Images and Insults: Ancient Historiography and the Outbreak of the Tarentine War 3515086897, 9783515086899

Citation preview

Christopher L. H. Barnes

Images and Insults Ancient Historiography and the Outbreak of the Tarentine War

Geschichte Franz Steiner Verlag

Historia Einzelschriften – 187

Christopher L. H. Barnes Images and Insults: Ancient Historiography and the Outbreak of the Tarentine War

HISTORIA Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte Revue d’histoire ancienne Journal of Ancient History Rivista di storia antica –––––––––––––––––– EINZELSCHRIFTEN Herausgegeben von Kai Brodersen/Mannheim Mortimer Chambers/Los Angeles Martin Jehne/Dresden François Paschoud/Genève Hildegard Temporini/Tübingen

HEFT 187

Christopher L. H. Barnes

Images and Insults Ancient Historiography and the Outbreak of the Tarentine War

Franz Steiner Verlag Stuttgart 2005

Bibliographische Information der Deutschen Bibliothek Die Deutsche Bibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliographie; detaillierte bibliographische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. ISBN 3-515-08689-7

Jede Verwertung des Werkes außerhalb der Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. Dies gilt insbesondere für Übersetzung, Nachdruck, Mikroverfilmung oder vergleichbare Verfahren sowie für die Speicherung in Datenverarbeitungsanlagen. © 2005 by Franz Steiner Verlag GmbH, Stuttgart. Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Druck: Printsrevice Decker & Bokor, München. Printed in Germany

For David and Sabine, sine quibus non…

CONTENTS A Note on the Transliteration of Greek Names.......................................

9

Acknowledgements .................................................................................. 11 Introduction .............................................................................................. 13 Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Pyrrhicum: Polybius, Ennius, and the Search for Kernels of Truth ....................... 21 Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio: Dionysius of Halicarnassus ............. Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’ ..................... Meton: The Fear Factor ................................................. The Question of Authorship ..........................................

30 35 48 53

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity ................ 60 Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I: the Periochae, Valerius Maximus, and Florus .............................................................................. The Periochae of Livy ................................................... Valerius Maximus .......................................................... Florus..............................................................................

68 68 72 78

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian ............................................. 84 Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’ ................................. 86 A Certain Philonides: The Reproach Lover Returns? .. 99 Chapter 6: Cassius Dio: New Exempla and Meton’s Final Appearance............................................................................ 105 Chapter 7: The Livian Tradition II: Eutropius and Orosius .................. 122 Eutropius ........................................................................ 122 Orosius ........................................................................... 124 Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome ............................................ 129 Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War................. 138

8

Contents

Conclusion ............................................................................................... 148 Select Bibliography.................................................................................. 152 Indices ...................................................................................................... 158

A NOTE ON THE TRANSLITERATION OF GREEK NAMES The choice of how to spell Greek words in English is not easy to make. In the case of the names of authors (Homer, Plato, Thucydides), historical figures (Antiochus), literary characters (Achilles) and most places (Pergamum, Cape Lacinium), I have opted for their Latinate and most commonly used English forms. Only Taras, to reflect its independence from Rome, and certain terms (kômos, dêmos, kotylê) have I transliterated so that they reflect the original Greek more accurately. This inconsistency of practice will not content all, and I ask the reader’s indulgence.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The present work had its genesis in a dissertation completed at the University of Michigan. The chapter whence it derives aimed at an exploration of when the topos of Tarentine tryphê arose and how it came to be used in subsequent literature concerned with the city and its citizens. Immediately noticeable was the way many extant texts tended to concentrate their narratives on resistance to Rome, first in the Bellum Tarentinum and later in the Second Punic War. The Tarentines, doomed to lose again and again at the hands of each generation of Roman historiographers, enjoy some consistency in their representations, but striking is the way the allies of Hannibal exhibit comparatively little of the color one encounters when meeting the characters responsible for the Pyrrhic War. Harder to detect were the pains individual authors took to differentiate their version of events from their predecessors. During the dissertation process, my interest in ascertaining or corroborating the ‘facts’ largely blinded me to the importance of rhetorical nuance. Orosius, for example, was relegated to a footnote, as I had not internalized, nor am I alone in this I fear, the sententia (Plin. Ep. 7.9.16), aiunt enim multum legendum esse, non multa. What made the writing of the manuscript possible, and more importantly what provided the time for reading, analysis, and contemplation, was a Mrs. Giles Whiting Fellowship. For that, I am deeply grateful to the Whiting Foundation and Brooklyn College, and to Roger Dunkle for nominating me. During that year (2002–3) and since, my colleague and corecipient Jocelyn Wills provided much needed encouragement. So too did David Potter and Sabine MacCormack. Since my days as a graduate student, both of them have continued to provide me with guidance and inspiration and it is to them I dedicate this book. One may also detect influence from John Pedley and Thelma Thomas, although I have not consulted them since finishing the dissertation. Foremost among those I must also thank is Cynthia Damon who commented on an early version of this work and made invaluable suggestions. Her professionalism is a marvel. Historia’s anonymous reader caught numerous errors and offered helpful criticisms, and I would like to thank Alexander Wensler for all of his assistance. John Marincola was kind enough to read a draft at a late stage and provided some excellent advice as well as a very thoughtful critique. Other debts of gratitude are owed to Nicholas Purcell and Angela Poulter. In Taranto, Dottoressa Antonietta dell’ Aglio and the staffs of the Soprintendenza of

12

Acknowledgements

archaeology, of the library in the Chiostro of San Domenico, of the Istituto per la Storia della Magna Grecia, and of the Biblioteca Comunale Acclavio were generous with their resources and immensely helpful. Similarly, Gerhard Hempel kindly shared his expertise, and both he and his family were extraordinarily gracious and welcoming to a forestiero. I should also like to express my appreciation to the American Academy in Rome for allowing me the privilege of working in its library for a short time. Last, and certainly not least, my thanks to Barbara, for her love and support. While I have sought to follow Quintilian’s advice (Ep. ad Tryph. 2) by completing this work refrigerato inventionis amore, whatever failings remain are strictly my own. I regret that I became aware of Laura K. McClure’s Courtesans at Table too late to make use of it in this study.

INTRODUCTION In 281 B.C., an embassy travelled from Rome to the Greek city of Taras to demand reparations.1 In the fall of the previous year, the Romans had lost five ships in a naval engagement in the Mar Grande of the southern Italian port.2 The squadron arrived while the Tarentines were celebrating a festival in their theatre. Initially whipped up by a demagogue called Philocharis, emboldened by wine, the Greeks attacked the intruders, then expelled the Roman garrison from the south Italian polis of Thurii. War, what would become the Pyrrhic War or Bellum Tarentinum, was now imminent unless the Tarentines acceded to Roman demands. Once escorted into the theatre, the senatorial legate L. Postumius Megellus delivered his message to the assembled dêmos. An unofficial reply came from a drunk identified as Philonides, who spoke not a word, but urinated on Postumius’ toga, or at least that is what some authors reported (some might even have believed it). This incomplete narrative can be reconstructed from the extant texts of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Plutarch, Appian, Florus, and Cassius Dio, among others.3 Yet, we should be wary about doing so or believing the additional details they make available. As has long been known, the story as recreated above is not trustworthy, yet there has been little sustained inquiry into how or why this is true.4 1 P. Wuilleumier, Tarente des Origines à la Conquête Romaine (1968) [henceforth Tarente], dates the embassy to the spring, 104. 2 A small Roman fleet was created in 311 B.C. under the command of duumviri navales, see T. J. Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome (1995) 388, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 410; H. H. Scullard, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 548–9, who gives the number of ships as twenty, ten per duumvir, based primarily on the evidence of Appian (Sam. 3.7.1); and J. H. Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War (1954) 9–10, 19–27. 3 Polybius, Valerius Maximus, the Periochae of Livy, Florus, Eutropius, Orosius, and Zonaras also furnish testimony for these events. A. Valente, La storia di Taranto (1899) 148–51; Wuilleumier, Tarente 102–5; P. R. Franke, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 457; and K. Lomas, Rome and the Western Greeks (1993) [henceforth RWG] 50–1, offer such reconstructions, albeit with varying degrees of skepticism. 4 Exceptions are the works of W. Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 11–24, and more recently G. Urso, Taranto e gli xenikoì strategoí (1998) [hereafter TXS] 113–28. Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 102–5; Franke, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 457; G. Brauer, Jr., Taras: Its History and Coinage (1986) [henceforth Taras] 122–6; and Lomas, RWG 14–5, 50. The episode has attracted interest as the first recorded instance of a Roman speaking Greek, see J. N. Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin Language (2003) 11.

14

Introduction

These incidents occurred well before any Romans were writing historical narratives, far enough in the past to put the accuracy of oral tradition into question.5 Whatever contemporary Greek sources recorded about how the war began quite likely did not resemble what was to come which has been viewed as the result of pro-Roman bias.6 By the Augustan age at least one detailed account had developed involving three suspicious episodes, all set in Taras and each centered around the figure of a Tarentine inimical to Roman mores. Philocharis the demagogue incited his unruly compatriots to a treacherous attack. The actions of Philonides need no further comment except that the story strains credulity, while a third man, Meton, served to highlight the faulty character and poor judgment of his fellow citizens. In his brief moment in the spotlight, this protagonist opposed the notion of summoning Pyrrhus to aid in the war against Rome by playing the part of a reveller; he entered the assembly wearing garlands accompanied by a flutegirl in order to register his disapproval.7 All three episodes were written in such a way as to highlight life at Taras which, at a minimum, served a twofold purpose. Blame for the conflict was laid squarely at the feet of the Greeks as one would expect. Fetial law guaranteed that once war began, the Romans were never at fault.8 Such an attitude poses certain challenges to the historian’s interest in cause and effect and the surviving accounts, almost all of which are imperial in date, need to be examined for any evidence which might reflect an unbiased view of the origins of the conflict or which might even put the Romans at fault. As written, the episodes not only blamed the Greeks, they also demonstrated why the Tarentines ultimately lost the war: their unstable democracy produced individuals devoid of morality who lacked the discipline necessary to defeat the Romans in the long run. As such, one argument holds that these hostile portraits derive from the work of an aristocrat incensed at the ruin brought upon his city by its democratic 5 On oral tradition, see R. Saller, G & R, 2nd ser., 27.1 (1980) 69–83. W. V. Harris, War and Imperialism in Republican Rome 327–70 B.C. (1979) [henceforth WIRR] 175– 6, offers the following: ‘Contemporary Roman perceptions of the Italian wars fought in the years 327–264 cannot be recovered … [sc. the period] is an almost complete blank, which writers from Livy to the present have filled with their own more or less informed imaginings’. 6 Lomas, RWG 14–5. If Taras produced any historians of its own, Polybius does not mention them, as he does, for example, the Rhodians Zeno and Antisthenes (16.14.6, 17.8). 7 The suspicious similarities were first noted by Wuilleumier who remarked in the case of Meton, ‘c’est la troisième scène burlesque montée par les auteurs anciens dans le théâtre de Tarente!’ His use of the words ‘burlesque’ and ‘montée’ are no accident, Tarente 105. 8 See below pp. 73–4.

Introduction

15

government. An alternative view sees only the creative talents of Roman annalists at work. Hoffmann combined the two and proposed that Livy put the received accounts in their classic form.9 Each of these arguments poses certain difficulties. For one thing, Livy’s second decade is not extant, thus we must look to the output of authors known to have drawn upon him to reconstruct his version of the events. Second, like Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Plutarch, and others, Livy selected material and cannot be viewed as the purest distillation of the content one might find in his sources. Next, while Taras was bound to have its share of demagogues, drunks, and bon vivants, Philocharis, Philonides, and Meton quite likely never existed. Their lack of historicity is detectable, in part, through questionable coincidences. For example, the theatre of Taras appears prominently as the location in which each of our players ‘struts and frets his hour upon the stage’. The consumption of wine, whether real or feigned, plays an important role and all three Tarentines correspond to stereotypes familiar from Greek literature. Fourth, no two accounts are identical in res or verba and our authors do not always agree upon the particulars. Appian called the demagogue Philocharis, whereas Dionysius possibly offered Ainesias, or perhaps even provided no name at all. Cassius Dio omitted this character entirely and was the only author to say that the Tarentines were drunk while celebrating the Dionysia when the Roman fleet appeared. A very real likelihood exists that some of these details were not the products of earlier annalists. Dio lived and worked later than Appian, more than 450 years after the events in question and 200 after Dionysius. Perhaps Appian and Dio deviate from Dionysius because they derived their information from sources no longer extant, the lost Book Twelve of Livy, or from something written by Timaeus or a contemporary. At the same time, this explanation gives little credit for content to individual authors, all of whom wrote their accounts adhering to the principles of inventio.10 This ancient historiographical practice has been the bane of many a modern scholar interested in ascertaining ‘what really happened’.11 According to one view of its tenets, the absence of evidence presented no problem. Authors could supply the necessary ‘facts’ based on verisimilitude drawn 9 Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 12, 14–22, and F. W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 2 (1967) 101, maintain the possibility that the report of internal dissensions within the community represents the work of the unknown Tarentine. Franke favors the annalists, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 457, a view rejected by Urso, TXS 102. 10 Cf. T. P. Wiseman, History 66 (1981) 388–92. 11 J. Marincola, Greek Historians (2001) 3–8 and esp. 111–2, where he observes, ‘the opposite of “research” is not “rhetoric”’.

16

Introduction

from rhetorical training, personal experience, and prior work.12 Such a position looks at Appian’s Philocharis and Dio’s Dionysia with frustration and dismisses them as flights of fancy, evidence of unreliability, or incompetence. Critics have long considered many historiographers of antiquity at best as literary artists more interested in rhetoric and entertainment than in ‘truth’ or ‘serious’ history. To complicate matters further, one prominent scholar has argued ancient claims of ‘truth’ signify a denial not of fabrication, but of bias.13 However, precisely this awareness of the importance of fabrication ‘like the truth’ and the different techniques employed to realize it point us in a new direction. Inventio assumed that every narrative had a truthful basis, or fundamenta, as Cicero (de Orat. 2.62–3) put it in a much discussed passage.14 The trick is to isolate the ‘kernel’ or ‘hard core’ of historical truth from each writer’s embellishment of it, the exaedificatio or exornatio, admittedly a difficult if not often impossible task for us.15 Many ancient writers seldom cited their sources.16 Quellenforschung has contributed to the realization 12 A. J. Woodman, ‘Self Imitation and the Substance of History’ in Creative Imitation and Latin Literature (1979), edd. D. West and A. J. Woodman, 143–55, and ‘Tacitus, Annals 15.36–7’ in Author and Audience in Latin Literature (1992), edd. A. J. Woodman and J. Powell, 173–188. Cf. T. J. Cornell, ‘The Value of the Literary Tradition Concerning Archaic Rome’ in Social Struggles in Archaic Rome (1986), ed. K. Raaflaub, 52–76. According to Cicero, memory corresponded to the foundation (Opt. Gen. 5), a statement open to a number of interpretations about content and veracity. 13 A. J. Woodman and C. S. Kraus, Latin Historians (1997) 6. On the issues and difficulties of writing history without bias, see J. Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography (1997) 158–74, esp. 160–2 where he equates an accusation of bias with one of invention. 14 Wiseman, History 66 (1981) 389, quotes D. A. Russell: ‘[Inventio] is not “invention” if by that we mean some degree of imaginative creation’. Cf. T. J. Cornell, ‘The formation of the historical tradition of early Rome’ in Past Perspectives (1986), edd. I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, 86; A. J. Woodman, Rhetoric in Classical Historiography (1988) [henceforth RhCH] 81–95; and D. S. Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian (1999) 12–8, 135–8. 15 R. Saller, G & R, 2nd ser., 27.1 (1980) 77–9; Woodman, RhCH 91–2; and J. von Ungern-Sternberg, ‘Formation of the “Annalistic Tradition”’ in Social Struggles in Archaic Rome (1986), ed. K. Raaflaub, 88. T. Späth, ‘Erzählt, Erfunden: Camillus. Literarische Konstruktion und soziale Normen’, in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique (2001), edd. M. Coudry and T. Späth, 346–9, offers a method based on narratology for dealing with the hundreds of passages concerning Camillus. Cicero (Q. fr. 2.16.4) speaks of exaedificatio in terms of circumstances (situs), the natures of things and of places (naturas rerum et locorum), customs (mores), peoples (gentes), battles (pugnas), and important personages (imperatorem). 16 Saller, G & R, 2nd ser., 27.1 (1980) 69–83. Cf. J.-M. David, ‘Les étapes historiques de la construction de la figure de Coriolan’ in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique (2001), edd. M. Coudry and T. Späth, 17, and F. Millar, A Study of

Introduction

17

that all too often we cannot be as confident as we would like about whom a given historiographer consulted.17 Even if we succeed in isolating rhetorical embellishment from the ‘core’, we usually lack an independent means of corroborating the truth of what was reported. Other difficulties arise from the reading done by each author. For example, Dionysius, Plutarch, or Appian could and probably did look at fourth- and third-century texts which described the Tarentines and their polis, but not necessarily the vicissitudes of the conflict. The works of the Roman annalists whom they consulted have survived only in fragments, all too often in paraphrase rather than in quotation. Furthermore, they incorporated references to texts which, although in some way germane, did not report information about the Tarentines, the Romans, or the war, but which served as indications of each author’s own education, sophistication, culture, and wit, with the desired end of improving his narrative’s readability and content. Historiography was after all competitive.18 With these caveats in mind, an aid in disentangling ‘core’ and exaedificatio comes from having a broad diachronic range of sources to compare. For these three episodes, we possess the accounts of authors from the time of Polybius in the mid-second century B.C. to Zonaras, private secretary of the Byzantine emperor Alexis I in the early twelfth century A.D. Although many of the surviving narratives are fragmentary or epitomes, the differences between them are substantial, allowing us an opportunity to assess the continuity of content and how exaedificationes were constructed, in what way they were ‘true’ or ‘factual’. Another help comes from a better understanding of how exornatores created increasingly elaborate accounts over time, a phenomenon familiar from Roman historical writing. Worrying a little less about the ‘truth’ and more about how historians produced their narratives, we must look to a larger arsenal of rhetorical techniques: word play, stereotyping, the use of the theatrical, enargeia (helping the reader to visualize the narrative), focalization, and not just the insertion of speeches.19 Similarly, we must consider a broader array of potential sources for material. Cassius Dio (1964) 34: ‘Hopeless uncertainties prevail in the field of source-criticism. Even where a historian quotes a writer by name it is not certain that he had read him, for the name could have come from an intermediate source’. 17 The criticisms are almost as old as the method itself. See A. Momigliano, Studies in Historiography (1966) 107; G. B. Miles, Livy: Reconstructing Early Rome (1995) 1– 7; and Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian 90–5. 18 Wiseman, History 66 (1981) 383. 19 Woodman, RhCH 99; G. Maslakov, ANRW 32.2 (1984) 440–1; A. Feldherr, Spectacle and Society in Livy’s History (1998) 4–5; Lomas, RWG 13–7; and A. Vasaly, Representations: Images of the World in Ciceronian Oratory (1993) passim. On enarge-

18

Introduction

Roman audiences expected a wide variety of allusions, as is well known from studies in Latin literature.20 Livy’s references to Homer, Herodotus, and Thucydides, or Tacitus’ to Cicero, Livy, and Vergil, demonstrate that the historian, like the poet or playwright, expected the same of readers or listeners who might very well have heard readings in the theatre ‘on working days but not during ludi scaenici’.21 Such intertextuality illustrates the complex phenomenon of imitatio or mimesis.22 Authors sought to recreate reality through vivid language and they imitated what they admired in great works of literature, unconsciously or not, through obvious stealing and more hidden references.23 Exempla were not just the literary models, ia, see J. Davidson, JRS 81 (1991) 10–24, and A. D. Walker, TAPA 123 (1993) 353–77. As Marincola, Greek Historians 76, has observed: ‘the varying of focalization allows the narrator to enter the “psychological” state of the historical actors, bringing out the immediacy of their feelings and perceptions (this is what ancient critics saw). Yet as Rood has shown, the use of focalization does much more than lend vividness: its also shows the historical participants in the very act of interpreting events around them (the same task demanded of the reader), and (just as importantly) how the perceptions themselves of events contributed to people’s response to the situations and choices before them’. 20 J. Griffin, Latin Poets and Roman Life (1985) 191. Woodman and Kraus, Latin Historians 110, mention the reader’s desire for variety. Wiseman, History 66 (1981) 384, cautions: ‘We moderns always forget the extent to which ancient literature was intended to be read aloud – not only among small groups of friends, as at a private dinner-party like those of Atticus, who never had any other sort of entertainment for his guests, but in more public places too’. 21 Woodman and Kraus, Latin Historians 97–102 provide further references. Wiseman, History 66 (1981) 385, is the source of the quote. 22 The nature of intertextuality is itself a matter of debate, on the complexities of which see S. Hinds, Allusion and Intertext (1998). He includes the warning of West and Rhodes that ‘similarities of word or thought or phrase can occur because writers are indebted to a common source, or because they are describing similar or conventional situations, or because their works belong to the same generic type of poem. Only patient scholarship and a thorough familiarity with the relevant material can reveal whether the similarities cannot be explained by any of these three reasons’, 19. P. J. Rhodes, Histos 2 (1998), www.dur.ac.uk/Classics/histos/1998/rhodes.html, represents a more skeptical position. Both Hinds and Rhodes acknowledge the theoretical position that an author’s intent is unknowable. 23 Along with the open (palam) and hidden (clam) references, Hinds, Allusion and Intertext 23–4, notes the topos, which ‘rather than demanding interpretation in relation to a specific model or models, like the allusion, …invokes its intertextual tradition as a collectivity, to which the individual contexts and connotations of individual prior instances are firmly subordinate’, 34. However, he demonstrates the problems with such a view and argues, ‘a discourse which is as circumscribed as is Roman poetry in its choices of genre, subject-matter and vocabulary is more sensitive, not less sensitive, to the need to confront its past utterances. The so-called commonplace, despite our name

Introduction

19

they were also the subjects treated therein and could be evoked to highlight change from one historical period to the next, particularly of a moral nature. All of this is evident in the depiction of the Tarentines. At least some of the ancient audience knew that inventio was an ongoing process as generation after generation of historiographers sought to distinguish their own narratives from those of their predecessors. Since the time of Hecataeus, historians made the distinction between the credulous and those properly skeptical or alert to the possibility of elaboration.24 The listener’s or reader’s role was and is paramount. If we dismiss authors as liars, we may be no different from ancient historians attempting to establish their own reputations. It is not enough to repeat accusations of overdramatization, mendacity, mistakes, and other shortcomings. These are representative of the dark side of inventio. Simultaneously, they hint at an alternative. The dark side is detectable because other evidence exists.25 Thus, when Appian provided a new name, or Cassius Dio added that the Tarentines were drunk in the theatre, it is important to ask why they introduced these new details. Rather than being incompetent, careless, or negligent, their accounts may assume a knowledge of earlier historiographers as a prerequisite for detecting how they adorned their works in new, interesting ways, not just through speeches. What some might perceive as lies or errors become mere exaggerations, tests to differentiate the persona docta from the hoi polloi in the evolving pattern of imperial historical narratives.26 for it, is not an inert category in this discourse, but an active one, with as much potential to draw poet and reader into, as away from, engagement with the specificities of its history’, 40. The same applies very well to topoi one encounters in Roman historiography. 24 Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography 225, and A. B. Bosworth, From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation (1988) 75. Cf. Späth, ‘Erzählt, Erfunden: Camillus. Literarische Konstruktion und soziale Normen’ and his quotation of Le Goff, 341. 25 Cf. A. B. Bosworth, Classical Antiquity 22.2 (2003) 171–2, who notes the importance of disagreements between sources. Where Aristobolus and Ptolemy did not concur presented Arrian with the opportunity to choose one or the other because of a narrative’s credibility, its moral value, or its entertainment potential. Arrian also selected items from other authors which, very much to the purpose here, were ‘intrinsically suspect, because they do not have first-hand authority, and they are used to embellish the narrative’. 26 In Cicero’s De Oratore (2.35), Scaevola distinguishes between the prudentes, ‘those aware’, and the stulti, ‘foolish’ among his audience. T. P. Wiseman, Clio’s Cosmetics (1979) 35, observed: ‘When a historian writes rhetorice, he is allowed to invent as an orator invents, to add point or conviction to his story, but the reader is expected to be able to recognize what he is doing – with a laugh, perhaps, like Atticus – and assess it accordingly. Scaevola’s distinction between the prudentes and the stulti applies to the historian’s audience as well as the orator’s’.

CHAPTER 1 BELLUM TARENTINUM OR BELLUM PYRRHICUM: POLYBIUS, ENNIUS, AND THE SEARCH FOR KERNELS OF TRUTH The first extant testimony regarding the events at Taras of 282–1 comes from Polybius (1.6.5) in the form of a pithy genitive absolute, Tarantivnwn dia; th;n eij" tou;" presbeuta;" Rwmaivwn ajsevlgeian kai; to;n dia; tau`ta fovbon ejpispasamevnwn Puvrron (the Tarentines, because of insulting the Roman ambassadors and because of the fear due to their actions summoned Pyrrhus). There is no naval battle, no names, no details, just the mention of an outrage or licentiousness (ajsevlgeian) in the treatment of the Roman ambassadors and the subsequent fear that induced the Tarentines to summon Pyrrhus. Equally vague, an excerpt (8.24) records that ‘the Tarentines summoned Pyrrhus the Epirote because of the arrogance caused by their prosperity’ (oiJ Taranti`noi dia; to; th`" eujdaimoniva" uJperhvfanon ejpekalevsanto Puvrron to;n H j peirwvthn). The two passages agree in attributing disreputable conduct to the Tarentines and that this was the reason for calling upon Pyrrhus. The question is to what extent they represent the ‘core’ derived from earlier authors and served as such for Polybius’ successors. It is crucial to ask how much more information was available to Polybius.1 Of course, he might not have had much interest in these events. His narrative is minimal until the beginning of the Second Punic War. Still, if the detailed accounts of Dionysius, Appian, Dio, and others represent the biased inventio of Roman annalists, it is important to attempt to establish whether the antics, even the existence, of Philocharis, Philonides, and Meton were likely to have been known to him. For the period under consideration, the early third century B.C., Polybius had access to the work of the first generation of Roman historians, Q. Fabius Pictor and L. Cincius Alimentus, who began to write in Greek 1 In a well-known article, E. Badian, ‘The Early Historians’ in Latin Historians (1966), ed. T. A. Dorey, 2, asserted that ‘the war with Pyrrhus and the First Punic War firmly established contacts between Rome and the Hellenistic World and provided what might seem suitable subject-matter for history’. We should be cautious in assuming that we have arrived on sounder historical footing for the beginning of the Tarentine War. Badian’s language is very telling. Note ‘the war with Pyrrhus’, not the Tarentine War.

22

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

around 200 B.C. They were followed many years later by C. Acilius, A. Postumius Albinus, and M. Porcius Cato, the first author to write a history of the Roman world up to his own lifetime in Latin. Unfortunately, none of these provides us with any direct testimony about the Tarentine War, or little else for that matter. However, if we may take what is known about Cato’s work as a rough guide, we cannot expect him, or the others, to have furnished much detailed information to Polybius regarding the beginning of the Bellum Tarentinum. Cicero (de Orat. 2.52) mentions the minimalism of the Origines. Cato’s first three books covered over 800 years of Roman and Italian history, up to the beginning of the First Punic War.2 The likelihood that the names of our three Tarentines would have appeared is rather remote. What is more, the brevity of the early Roman historians’ accounts suggests something about the interests of the Greek authors whom they, like Polybius, consulted, at least in so far as concerned the people of Taras. Certainly, a number of notable historiographers were alive at the beginning of the Pyrrhic War. Timaeus (d. 255), Hieronymus of Cardia (d. c. 250), Duris of Samos (d. c. 260), and Proxenus (d. ?) offered Polybius, Fabius, and other Romans a variety of works to choose from when writing their own histories. However, Duris probably did not write much, if anything, about the Tarentine War while Timaeus and Proxenus did not compose narratives of the conflict as a whole; they wrote about it as it pertained to the life of Pyrrhus.3 In other words, the accounts from this period, The seven books of his history covered events from presumably the time of the Trojan War to the year of his death in 149. His fourth book featured a new preface and treated the First Punic War up to a Second Punic War well under way, R. M. Ogilvie and A. Drummond, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 5. An added consideration is the political aim of Roman historiography, an admittedly controversial topic. As the province of Roman senators, with the exception of L. Cassius Hemina, ‘narratives of both early history and, particularly, recent events could provide a context for self-glorification and the denigration of rivals, which was also an important motive for the political activity of the Roman nobilis’, Feldherr, Spectacle and Society in Livy’s History 20, esp. n. 56. It is important here to note that the emphasis fell on domestic politics. 3 By this, I do not mean to suggest that any of these authors said nothing about how the war began or that their accounts were devoid of digressions or other information the authors deemed relevant. Also available were the treatises on tactics by Pyrrhus (FGrH 229) and his close associate Cineas. Pyrrhus may have written memoirs (D. H. 20.11.2). See P. Lévêque, Pyrrhos (1957) 15–77, and L. Pearson, Greek Historians of the West (1987) 255–9, who argued that the work of Timaeus would have been used primarily for Pyrrhus’ activities in Sicily. Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 99, and Franke, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 456–7. According to R. B. Kebric, In the Shadow of Macedon: Duris of Samos (1977) 52–3, Duris is unlikely to have deviated from his Macedonian history to follow the affairs of Pyrrhus, a view upheld by P. Pédech, Trois Historiens Méconnus: Théopompe–Duris–Phylarque (1989) 337, and F. Landucci Gattinoni, Duride di Samo (1997) 60–1. Phylarchus, another historian of the third century, began his account with Pyrrhus’ death in 272, see Pédech, ibid. 405. 2

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

23

including that of Hieronymus, a key source for Plutarch’s life, demonstrate a Pyrrhocentricity which is hinted at by the two passages of Polybius above.4 Here was a figure of great fascination for historians and poets alike. Pyrrhus’ arrival in May of 280 transformed the Bellum Tarentinum into the Bellum Pyrrhicum; his presence turned another prosperous Greek city into a place worthy of notice, even if disapproving. The very name ‘Pyrrhic War’ illustrates the principle that serious historiography focused its interest on ‘great men’, nor is this unique to antiquity.5 In the fourth century and afterward, Taras attracted attention by virtue of its association with prominent individuals, first the philosopher Archytas and then the various condottieri who came to its aid.6 In the case of Pyrrhus, this one compelling individual had a lasting impact on the writing of history in the broadest sense, visible also in the work of Polybius’ rough contemporary Ennius. As another potential source for later authors, his work too merits brief investigation. Born at Rudiae in 239, very near modern Lecce, and probably educated at Taras, Ennius included the ten-year conflict in his epic Annales, although the few surviving fragments appear much more concerned with the Bellum Pyrrhicum than the Bellum Tarentinum.7 Pyrrhus’ arrival provided the starting point to the sixth book which Ennius dedicated to the condottiere’s campaigns and the eventual Roman victory. One fragment (l. 167) foretold the ambiguous fortune of Pyrrhus, Aio te Aeacida Romanos vincere posse (I say that you, descendant of Aeacus, the Romans can conquer) while another (l. 197) referred to the ‘brutish clan of Aeacus’, stolidum genus Aeacidarum. Pyrrhus claimed Achilles as a direct ancestor and, like him, did not start the war in which he fought, but served as a leading champion as well as a major focus of attention. Ennius took advantage of this in relating what was truly an epic encounter, the descendant of Greek heroes battling the On Hieronymus as the main source for Plutarch, see Pearson, Greek Historians of the West 256. 5 E. Gabba, Dionysius and the History of Archaic Rome (1991) 78, in speaking of the influence of Theopompus on Dionysius observed: ‘The interest shown by Theopompus in famous personalities is typical of the Hellenistic age and accompanies the flowering of biography’. Modern scholars tend to talk more about Pyrrhus than the Tarentines. Witness Franke’s title ‘Pyrrhus’ in the CAH (above n.3) and Lomas, RWG, who refers to the Pyrrhic War. G. Shipley mentions Tarentum only in passing, The Greek World after Alexander 323–30 B.C. (2000) 142, 371, while Pyrrhus receives much more attention. As an indication of its marginalization, Taras/Tarentum does not appear in his index. Cf. Brauer, Taras 146–7. 6 These included Archidamus in 344, Alexander the Molossian around 334–1, Acrotatus in 315, Cleonymus in 302, and finally Pyrrhus, see Brauer, Taras 60–86, and Urso, TXS. 7 On Ennius’ background, see O. Skutsch, The ‘Annales’ of Q. Ennius (1985) 1. For the content of Book Six, ibid. 328–35. 4

24

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

heirs of Aeneas, nor was he alone in doing so. Lycophron also made such a comparison.8 Another line of the Annales (198), Bellipotentes sunt magis quam sapientipotentes (They are mightier in war than in wisdom), makes clear why this Aeacid, ‘powerful in war’, and the allied forces he led would lose. Achilles was unable to foresee all the consequences of his decisions. Similarly, Pyrrhus and the Greeks did not possess the wisdom of their opponents. In the end, the heirs of Aeneas ultimately proved sapientipotentiores and bellipotentiores and to the victors went the spoils. In addition to subjugating Magna Graecia, they had their names commemorated. Two Romans emerged most prominently in this regard, Gaius Fabricius Luscinus and Manius Curius Dentatus. Later authors would remember them as the embodiment of Roman ideals as well as for their deeds (e.g. Cic. Brut. 55 and Sen. 15–6; V. Max. 4.3.5a; Plin., Nat. 18.18; Plu. Cat. Ma. 2).9 Frequently mentioned along with these two, Appius Claudius Caecus also played an important part in the war. His speech persuading the Romans to resist Pyrrhus ‘was still frequently read in Cicero’s day and was regarded as the oldest document of its kind preserved in the Roman archives’.10 Ennius heightened the achievement of Roman victory by furnishing a worthy and noble opponent for these magni viri. While Pyrrhus might not have been as wise as the Romans and was descended from a stolidum genus, his portrait was not entirely negative. One fragment (183–90) reported his words in a famed meeting with Fabricius, the first three lines of which are: Nec mi aurum posco nec mi pretium dederitis: Non cauponantes bellum sed belligerantes Ferro, non auro vitam cernamus utrique. Gold I do not seek for myself, nor should you offer me a price. Not trafficking in war, but waging it By the sword, not with gold we decide a man’s life.

Fabricius had arrived in order to ransom Roman prisoners after the battle of Heraclea. Here, Pyrrhus spurned the offer in a manner worthy of a virtuous The genealogy is narrated by Plutarch (Pyrrh. 1). Naevius had noted the Romans’ Trojan lineage in his epic of the First Punic War (Carmen Belli Poenici), although Lycophron may have been the first to represent the Bellum Pyrrhicum as a new Trojan War, see F. W. Walbank, Polybius (1972) 53 n. 131. The dates of Lycophron (OCD s.v.) are contested, but the early second century is preferred. 9 C. Berrendonner ‘La formation de la tradition sur M’. Curius Dentatus et C. Fabricius Luscinus: Un homme nouveau peut-il être un grand homme?’ in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique (2001), edd. M. Coudry and T. Späth, 97–116; and A. Vigourt, ‘M’. Curius Dentatus et C. Fabricius Luscinus: Les grands hommes ne sont pas exceptionnels’ in ibid. 117–29. 10 Franke, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 471. 8

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

25

Roman of the Republic. The fact that he sought no gold, asked for no ransom, and did not judge a man’s life in terms of wealth illustrated his apparent frugalitas, simplicitas, and severitas, while his interest in war revealed a man concerned with virtus and gravitas. Ennius must have characterized Appius Claudius, M’. Curius, and G. Fabricius in similarly positive moral terms. There seems little room for a Tarentine demagogue, a drunk, or a symposiast, nor was there in the history of Polybius. What this evidence demonstrates is that the Bellum Pyrrhicum, the first clash between the Roman and Hellenistic worlds, was one of great men who furnished exempla for their contemporaries and posterity.11 We do not know what Ennius said about the Tarentines, but the structure of the work and the focus of the surviving fragments suggest not much. If the text of Polybius is anything to go by, Ennius too would have painted them with a broad brush, as a people notable for collective ‘arrogance deriving from their prosperity’ (dia; to; th`" eujdaimoniva" uJperhvfanon). He, and possibly Polybius too, knew about Tarentum and the reputation of its inhabitants from personal experience and observation.12 A number of Romans had fought there in the war against Hannibal just at the time when their own historiography began. However, Polybius posited Tarentine arrogance resulting from prosperity as the cause for the arrival of Pyrrhus in 280. To learn about this, Polybius had access to a variety of sources from which he could have garnered a general impression of the southern Italian Greeks about whom a number of topoi had developed. It is quite likely that in this regard fifth-century authors were not necessarily very helpful. Herodotus and Thucydides mentioned the Tarentines only in passing, depicting a people resistant to Persian tyranny and hostile to the Athenians, just as we would expect of a Spartan daughter-city.13 11 The Pyrrhic War has received considerable attention, see, for example, E. S. Gruen, The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome (1984), and J.-L. Ferrary, Philhellénisme et Impérialisme (1988). E. Ciaceri, Storia della Magna Grecia vol. 3 (1932) 40, citing a passage of Pausanias (1.12.1), described this as the ‘primo urto fra Ellenismo e Romanità’. 12 In the case of Polybius, Walbank agrees with the possibility of a visit, but remains skeptical of any certainty, Polybius 120. 13 Herodotus (3.136–38) told the stories of Democedes, a Crotoniate doctor, and Gillus, an exile from Taras. The Tarentine king Aristophilides aided the former in escaping his Persian escort. The latter helped and requested restoration to his native city as his reward. The Tarentines refused. Thucydides (6.34.4–6) gave the speech of the Syracusan Hermocrates who urged the use of Taras as a naval base against the Athenians, while another passage (8.91.2) mentioned the inclusion of Tarentine ships in a Peloponnesian fleet. The Tarentines refused anchorage to the Athenian fleet as they sailed to Sicily, (Th. 6.44.2; D. S. 13.3.4) and welcomed that of Gylippus on two different occasions in 414 (Th. 6.104.2).

26

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

Herodotus (7.170) recorded a grave defeat at the hands of the Iapygians in 473 B.C., the worst ever suffered by Greeks to that time. The calamity resulted in a change of government to democracy (Arist. Pol. 5.2.8 1303a), the system which prevailed at Taras until the war with Rome. Aristotle praised this well over a hundred years after its inception, a testament to its stability. In fact, the Stagirite recommended the Tarentines as a model for others to follow (Pol. 6.3.5 1320b): kalw`" d j e[cei mimei`sqai kai; ta; Tarantivnwn: ejkei`noi ga;r koina; poiou`nte" ta; kthvmata toi`" ajpovroi" ejpi; th;n crh`sin eu[noun paraskeuavzousi to; plh`qo": e[ti de; ta;" ajrca;" pavsa" ejpoivhsan dittav", ta;" me;n aiJreta;" ta;" de; klrhwtav", ta;" me;n klhrwta;" o{pw" oJ dh`mo" aujtw`n metevch/, ta;" d j aiJreta;" i{na politeuvvntai bevltion. It is a good idea to imitate the practices of the Tarentines. By making their possessions available to the needy for use, they make the majority benevolent. Furthermore, they have made all their magistracies of two kinds, one elected and one chosen by lot, the latter so that the people have a share in government and the former so that they govern better.

While not directly confirming the reputation seen in Polybius, one may infer that a stable political system contributed many benefits. Nevertheless, not everyone shared Aristotle’s positive view. Plato (Lg. 1.637b) related a conversation in which the Spartan Megillus complained, ‘in Taras among our colonists, I saw the entire city drunk during the Dionysia’ (kai; ejn Tavranti de; para; toi`" hJmetevroi" ajpoivkoi" pa`san ejqeasavmhn th;n povlin peri; ta; Dionuvs ia mequvousan).14 Such raucous behavior occurred much more often than during just one festival if we believe Theopompus of Chios (FGrH 115 F 233): hJ povli" hJ tw`n Tarantivnwn scedo;n kaq j e{kaston mh`na bouqutei` kai; dhmosiva" eJstiavsei" poiei`tai. to; de; tw`n ijdiwtw`n plh`qo" aijei; peri; sunousiva" kai; povtou" ejstiv. levgousi de; kaiv tina toiou`ton lovgon oiJ Taranti`noi, tou;" me;n a[llou" ajnqrwvpou" dia; to; filoponei`sqai kai; peri; ta;" ejrgasiva" diatrivbein paraskeuavzesqai zh`n, aujtou;" de; dia; ta;" sunousiva" kai; ta;" hJdona;" ouj mevllein ajll j h[dh biw`nai. The city of the Tarentines sacrifices oxen nearly every month and public banquets are held. The multitude of people is always at parties and carousal. The Tarentines say this kind of thing, that while some men prepare to live through industriousness and busying themselves with work, they themselves are not about to, but already do so through parties and life’s pleasures.

The frequency of public sacrifices and symposia scandalized him, as did Tarentine attitudes about work and pleasure. In this respect, the passage 14 Cicero refers (Leg. 1.15) to the dialogue between Megillus and Clinias. Plato’s seventh letter (326b–d) complained of the overeating, excessive drinking, and sexual indulgence of the Italian and Sicilian Greeks.

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

27

strikes a chord with what Polybius said about arrogance and prosperity at Taras.15 What is more, Theopompus offered a strong critique of democracy in this commonplace about the excesses of the multitude.16 To be fair, he did note (FGrH 115 F 100) that they limited their indulgent behavior to banquets and symposia: kai; tosou`ton ajswtiva/ kai; pleonexiva/ dienhvnoce tou` dhvmou tou` Tarantivnwn o{son oJ me;n peri; ta;" eJstiavsei" ei\ce movnon ajkratw`", oJ de; tw`n A j qhnaivwn kai; ta;" prosovdou" katamisqoforw`n diatetevleke. He (sc. the Athenian demagogue Eubulus) exceeds the people of Taras in both profligacy and greed in so far as while they only lack restraint in public banquets, he continued spending the Athenians’ revenues on mercenaries.

Had he lived beyond 320, he might have condemned the Tarentines, as he did Eubulus, for hiring mercenary generals on five separate occasions. From all of this testimony, a fairly consistent image of the democratic Tarentines begins to emerge. They enjoyed easy living, spent public monies on too many festivities, and drank to excess. Perhaps this could account for their defeat at the hands of the Iapygians in 473. Clearchus of Soli, a student of Aristotle, related how at least once before the war with the Romans, prosperity had gotten the southern Italian Greeks into trouble. As reported centuries later by Athenaeus (12.522d–f), the city had become strong and powerful, which led to moral decline:17 Tarantivnou" dev fhsi Klevarco" ejn tetavrtw/ Bivwn ajlkh;n kai; duvnamin kthsamevnou" eij" tosou`to trufh`" proelqei`n w{ste tovn o{lon crw`ta paraleaivnesqai kai; th`" yilwvsew" tauvth" toi`" loipoi`" katavrxai. Clearchus says in the fourth book of his Lives that the Tarentines have arrived at such a state of luxury once they gained strength and influence that they make their entire body smooth and began the practice of shaving now adopted by other people.

Depilation does not leap to one’s mind as the height of luxury and moral depravity, but it does suggest a people with a lot of time on their hands who did not use their leisure to productive ends, as already remarked upon by Of course, Polybius was intimately familiar with Theopompus’ work, see M. Flower, Theopompus of Chios (1994). Flower points out the wide reading reflected in Theopompus which shows familiarity with Homer, Herodotus, Gorgias, Lysias, Thucydides, Xenophon, Plato, and Isocrates, among others, 96. 16 Another passage (apud Athenaeum 12.526e–f) explicitly blames democracy for similarly dissolute public morals at Byzantion and spreading such practices to nearby Calchedon. Flower notes that Theopompus was not only critical of democracy, Theopompus 79. 17 Taras probably became hêgemôn of the Italiote League in the 390s at which point the city had become one of, if not, the wealthiest and largest in Italy, see Lomas, RWG 35. 15

28

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

Theopompus.18 According to the same passage of Clearchus in Athenaeus, later on, led by the corrupting influence of tryphê into hybris, (u{steron d j uJpo; th`" trufh`" eij" u{brin podhghqevnte"), the clean-shaven Tarentines attacked the Iapygians at Carbina, modern Carovigno.19 The gods punished them for the outrages they perpetrated, but what is more interesting for us is the way Polybius’ dia; to; th`" eujdaimoniva" uJperhvfanon echoes Clearchus and reveals a pattern. Moral decline led to acts of hybris and a comeuppance.20 The Tarentines got into trouble because of arrogance due to prosperity at Carbina, and it would happen again with the arrival of the Romans and the decision to summon Pyrrhus. The earliest evidence in our possession for the beginning of the Bellum Tarentinum shows the limited, but complex nature of that available to later authors. Contemporary Greek historians demonstrated an interest in Pyrrhus and are unlikely to have preserved much detail about the individuals at Taras we will meet or their actions, something we see reflected in the text of Polybius. For the Tarentines, one could look to a number of fourth-century accounts which characterized them as luxury-loving drunks, suffering from the moral decline resulting from prosperity, doubtless repeated, if not embellished, by third-century authors like Timaeus and Hieronymus, possibly by Duris and Phylarchus.21 During the first half of the second century, poets like Ennius and Lycophron contributed an epic cast to the conflict between Pyrrhus and the Romans as well as a tendency to write in terms of exempla. Almost all described general contexts more than any individual ‘facts’ about the war, or about the history of Taras. We see a portrait of the democratic citizens of the polis as a whole, not of particular individuals.22 This makes the narrative of our next author rather remarkable. One thinks of the way the Corinthians characterize the Athenians in Thucydides 1.70 as preferring ‘hardship and activity to peace and quiet’, undermined by Pericles in the Funeral Oration, 2.38. Another symptom of this unfortunate lapse into luxury were the men’s bordered robes which only women would wear by Athenaeus’ day. On the matter of depilation, Athenaeus (12.518a–b) provides Theopompus’ testimony that the barbarians of the west used razors and plasters to remove body hair and that the Italian Greeks picked up the custom from the Samnites and Messapians. 19 On the site, see J.-L. Lamboley, Recherches sur les Messapiens IV e–IIe siècle avant J.-C. (1996) passim, esp. 39–43. 20 Polybius made the same observation about the Capuans. A variation on the theme was that prosperity led to excessive freedom and the need for a master. In the third century, the man sought to reimpose order was Pyrrhus, see Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 2 101. 21 Lomas, RWG 14, provides the topoi regarding southern Italian Greeks. Duris would have shared Clearchus’ disdain for Tarentine behavior, Kebric, In the Shadow of Macedon: Duris of Samos 29. 22 The only named Tarentines in the surviving text of Polybius are Philemenus, 18

Chapter 1: Bellum Tarentinum or Bellum Phyrrhicum

29

Nicon, and Tragiscus (8.24–34), three aristrocrats involved in the plot to betray the city to Hannibal during the Second Punic War, and Heracleides (13.4.4–7), a corrupt and corrupting advisor of Philip V, see Brauer, Taras 187–94 and 204-5. Polybius (8.25.6) did condemn Philemenus for an excessive dedication to hunting and implied (8.27) that the Roman garrison commander Livius was corrupted by living at Taras, its feasting and drinking beginning early in the day (ajf j hJmevra"). For more on Polybius’ description of Heracleides, see n. 6 of the next chapter, p. 32.

CHAPTER 2 OUTRAGE AND INVENTIO: DIONYSIUS OF HALICARNASSUS Chronologically, the remaining fragments of Dionysius are the first to introduce us to three Tarentines: Philonides, Meton, and one without a name. Where Dionysius obtained this information, in the absence of any direct evidence from Greek sources and the Roman annalistic tradition, needs investigation. Whether he elaborated on the stories he discovered in these earlier authorities or simply repackaged what he found within them will continue to be important questions, with certain limitations. Even if subsequent authors appear to have responded to what we find in the pages of Dionysius, this is not conclusive proof that he originated the content. One could look to a Greek historian of the third century, Timaeus or Hieronymus of Cardia for example, as having offered a very full account from which their successors selected only parts. Alternatively, an earlier Roman annalist might have been responsible, virtually all of these falling under Hellenic influence in one way or another, from Fabius Pictor’s initial history written in Greek to the first embellished narrative, that of L. Coelius Antipater less than one hundred years later (De Orat. 2.54, where Cicero observed that Antipater was not doctus; Leg. 1.6). Nevertheless, speculating about who Dionysius’ sources might have been serves little purpose without first looking at his text. We begin with a relatively brief fragment from his penultimate book (19.4.2). Although it is not immediately apparent what role the unnamed figure played in the narrative, what attracts our attention is the level of detail in Dionysius’ account, far beyond what we have seen in Polybius:1 The reading of the text after Taranti`nov" ti" ajnh;r is disputed. The lone manuscript, the fifteenth-century Ambrosianus Q 13 sup., contains the personal name Aijnhsiva" or possibly Aijnhsivo". Jacoby preferred the former for his 1905 Teubner edition. Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 102. However, the early nineteenth-century editor Mai proposed ajnovsio". Post, on the other hand, suggested ajnaidh;", the reading included by Cary in his 1950 Loeb. After ajnh;r, personal names occur extremely rarely and one often anticipates an adjective, for example, ei|" dev ti" ajnh;r ejpieikhv", Mevtwn o[noma (Plu. Pyrrh. 13.3) and Filwnivdh" dev ti", ajnh;r geloi`o" kai; filoskwvmmwn (App., Sam. 3.7.2). Of 151 instances of the form ajnh;r in the Roman Antiquities, Dionsyius followed the word with a personal name only three times (1.79.9; 9.37.2; 15.1.1), the last two in 1

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

31

Taranti`nov" ti" ajnh;r ajnaidh;" kai; peri; pavsa" ta;" hJdona;" ajselgh;" ajpo; th`" ajkolavstou kai; kakw`" dhmosieuqeivsh" ejn paisi;n w{ra" ejpekalei`to Qavi". A certain Tarentine shameless and wanton in all pleasures was called Thais due to his licentiousness and because he foully prostituted his beauty among boys.

Such a one-sided depiction in and of itself ought to make us suspect deliberate exaggeration. Certainly, some influence from Polybius, Theopompus, and Clearchus is detectable in the references to pleasures and depravity. Since Dionysius did not cite sources here, typical of his work after Book One, we will have to think like the ancient audience, in terms of exempla, constantly on the alert for references to the works of other authors, in order to understand how he constructed this account.2 Of particular interest will be to ascertain why this person has been included in the narrative and has received such a negative portrait. Lest the mention of shamelessness, the wanton pursuit of pleasures, and licentiousness not suffice, the inclusion of the name ‘Thais’ leaves no room for further doubt about the man’s character. Because of the conduct of ‘our certain Tarentine’, Dionysius, or a source, has nicknamed him after the Athenian prostitute who is said to have urged Alexander the Great to burn the royal palace at Persepolis.3 According to some, it was she who made the vengeful suggestion at a symposium and Diodorus Siculus (17.72) condemned her for manipulating drunken youth, for her impiety, even for starting the fire.4 The reference could then connote that her Tarentine namesake was similarly guilty of inciting others to some disreputable action. What the two obviously share is their active engagement in debauchery. Dionysius underscored how inappropriate this was for a man through the adverb kakw`" and by noting his preferred company, boys, but a more subtle clauses of apposition at the end of a sentence. The pattern is similarly rare in Appian (one of 58 instances; B. C. 1.3.25) and Plutarch. An incomplete survey of the latter’s Parallel Lives produced one instance (Thes. 13.2, at the end of a sentence) out of 159 occurrences, with none (out of seven appearances) in the Pyrrhus, the work of immediate relevance here. 2 On Dionysius’ sources, see C. Schultze, ‘Dionysius of Halicarnassus and his audience’, in Past Perspectives (1986), edd. I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, 129. 3 Arrian (3.19) says Alexander decided of his own volition to burn the palace in retribution for the Persian invasion of Greece. Plutarch (Alex. 38) and Curtius Rufus (5.7) follow Diodorus in saying that Thais made the suggestion at a symposium. Athenaeus (13.576d–e) cites Cleitarchus, a coeval of Alexander and the likely source of the story. See Bosworth, From Arrian to Alexander 330–2, and P. Green, Alexander of Macedon 356–323 B.C. (1991) 319–21. 4 Diodorus (17.72.6) also says she was the first to set fire to the palace, not so Plutarch (Alex. 38) and Quintus Curtius Rufus (5.7).

32

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

sign of disapproval comes through the participle’s passive form, dhmosieuqeivsh". A rhetorical touch of this kind implies the effeminate nature of the southern Italian Greek and perhaps jars the reader’s memory about an earlier occurrence of the verbal adjective in the first book of the RJ wmaikh; Ê ÊA j rcaiologiva. On the subject of famous prostitutes, one might recall the first example from Roman legend, Laurentia, whom Dionysius (1.84.4) described as dhmosieuouvsh/ pote; th;n sou` swvmato" w{ran (once prostituting the beauty of her body). The recurrence of words in similar contexts marked a rather pointed contrast, a moment of intratextuality, between Roman scortum and Greek hetairos/a.5 Whereas the Tarentine was corrupted absolutely, not so Laurentia.6 The fact that she only made the beauty of her body (th;n sou` swvmato" w{ran) available at one time (pote;) leaves the question of her inner core, her character, and morality open. The proto-Roman had depth and substance and there was more to her than just the superficial.7 Dionysius (1.87.4) related that Laurentia abandoned her former disreputable way of life and raised Romulus and Remus like their natural mother, neognou;" paralabou`sa ejxeqrevyato kai; mhtrov" oujc h|tton hjspavzeto (Taking the babies in her embrace she reared them and took joy in them no less than their mother). After Remus was killed, she comforted Romulus, who was A. Sharrock, ‘Intratextuality: Texts, Parts, and (W)holes in Theory’ in Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations (2000), edd. A. Sharrock and H. Morales, 10, informs us that ‘a classic intratextual move is the relating of apparently disparate parts of the text, in order to enhance the reading of each’. The phenomenon of intratextuality itself she defines as a close correlate of intertextuality, an interest in ‘how parts relates to parts, wholes, and holes’ that stems ultimately from an interest ‘in the way people read’, 5. 6 Polybius (13.4.5) provided something of a model for this with the Tarentine Heracleides, who openly prostituted himself in his youth (ajnafando;n tw`/ swvmati parekevcrhto kata; th;n prwvthn hJlikivan), but apparently abandoned this for more active ways of corrupting others, notably Philip V of Macedon (D. S. 28.9). On Heracleides and his representation, see Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 2 417–8. In his complaints regarding Timaeus, Polybius (12.15.2) mentioned how the former slandered Agathocles, the tyrant of Syracuse, in similar language: ‘he says that Agathocles spent his earliest youth as a common catamite, ready for even the most powerless, he was a jackdaw, a buzzard, for all those who wanting him for the future he was already there’ (fhsi; gegonevnai to;n jAgaqokleva kata; th;n prwvthn hJlikivan koino;n povrnon, e{toimon toi`" ajkratestavtoi", koloiovn, triovrchn, pavntwn tw`n boulomevnwn toi`" o[pisqen e[mprosqen gegonovta). In this accusation of prostituting one’s youth, we find a topos of Greek political slander, see Pearson, The Greek Historians of the West 231, who observed: ‘accusations of this kind were common enough in Greek politics, and Polybius appears to be surprised that any historian should take them seriously’. 7 This is something of a paradox since Dionysius’ larger argument was that the Romans were in fact Greek in origin (1.5). 5

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

33

persuaded by her to found Rome (deomevnh" kai; parhgorouvsh", tauvth/ peiqovmeno" ajnivstatai), thus confirming her good character, and the author’s creativity. This part of the story is not reported elsewhere and leads one to ask if it is Dionysius’ own contribution.8 For the unnamed Tarentine, he has drawn upon two exempla, those of Thais and Laurentia, via references both subtle and more overt, to add perspective to his portrait of this third individual.9 In fact, his language teems with potential allusions for the learned and alert reader. In this case, the courtesan’s name and dhmosieuqeivsh" lead one ultimately to consider stereotypes about Greeks and Romans. These are not the only instances in this passage, however. Before providing the nickname, Dionysius included an adjective describing Thais which more than likely referred to his shamelessness.10 One can understand the attraction of restoring this as ajnaidh;", a word with epic associations. Achilles used the term to insult Agamemnon (Il. l.158). Better for our context, ajnaidev" also described the suitors in Ithaca (e.g. Od. 1.254) with whom Thais’ licentious pursuit of pleasure shares much more in common. We have already seen Theopompus’ disapproval of the attitudes and habits of the Tarentines which informed Polybius’ eujdaimoniva. Allegedly, the Tarentines spent a great deal of their time at symposia and in satisfaction of their desires. In Homer, Eurymachus and Antinous only enjoyed such leisure for three years, until the return of Odysseus. The parallel is instructive. Leisure allowed for shameless and arrogant behavior which eventually led to one’s downfall. It also points to something missing in Ennius’ presentation of the Pyrrhic War, with its noble Romans and their 8 Livy (1.4.7) provides a brief treatment of Larentia, the wife of Faustulus, ‘to whom the boys were given for rearing’ (pueros … Larentiae uxori educandos datos), see R. M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy Books 1–5 (1965) 50. He continues, ‘There are those who think Larentia was called Lupa by the shepherds by offering her services’ (Sunt qui Larentiam vulgato corpore lupam inter pastores vocatam putent). Dionysius has used the Greek equivalent of vulgare and both he and Livy mention her nickname lupa, but Livy does not include the story about her comforting and advising Romulus, which appears to be Dionysius’ invention. Cf. H. P. Peter, Historicorum Romanorum Reliquiae (1993, reprint) [henceforth HRR] 60 (Cato, fr. 16), 238 (Valerius Antias fr. 1), and 298 (Licinius Macer, fr. 1). T. P. Wiseman, Remus (1995) 8, observes how Dionysius claimed that Romulus cheated in the twins’ competition for divine approval, along with the properly cautious remark that the story was also known to Plutarch who attributed it to ‘others’ (Rom. 9.5). Plutarch did not repeat the story of Laurentia’s advice. 9 The subtle and overt also allow the historian to appeal to different audiences, Wiseman, History 66 (1981) 387. Dionysius (1.8.3) had specified three separate groups to which he hoped to appeal through variatio. 10 Appian used the adverb aijscrw`" in describing this figure. See below pp. 84–6. Forms of ajnaidh;" appear throughout Dionysius’ work (4.9.8, 38.4; 5.8.3; 8.70.5, 73.4; 10.37.4, 39.3; 11.28.6).

34

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

equally noble and royal opponent. Homer peopled his world with negative examples, minor characters like Thersites, Melanthius, and Arnaeus/Irus, as well as aristocrats like the suitors. In suggesting the Tarentines behaved like Antinous and the others, Dionysius made the conflict simultaneously more epic, realistic, and complex. However, the arrogance of Thais probably did not manifest itself in consuming the property of another man and presuming to marry his wife. After noting his shamelessness, Dionysius pointed out that Thais was ‘licentious in every pleasure’ (peri; pavsa" ta;" hJdona;" ajselgh;"). Anyone interested in Taras and familiar with Theopompus and Clearchus would have some idea of what was implied in pavsa" ta;" hJdona;". The adjective ajselgh;" recalls Polybius’ outrage (ajsevlgeian) committed against the Roman ambassadors. At the same time, the two words used of licentiousness here, ajselgh;" and ajkolavstou, have associations with democracy. Aristotle (Pol. 1304b22) blamed the ajsevlgeian of demagogues for corrupting democracies: aiJ me;n ou\n dhmokrativai mavlista metabavllousi dia; th;n tw`n dhmagwgw`n ajsevlgeian (Democracies change most of all under the depraved influence of demagogues). Fourth-century Thais briefly played the part of inciting others to immoral acts at Persepolis with ruinous consequences. Perhaps her Tarentine counterpart urged the Greeks to attack the Romans. A j kolavstou supports this interpretation. Theopompus (FGrH 115 F 62) used the term to condemn the democracy of the Byzantines for spending too much time in the agora, around the harbor, and in drinking, and having sex in taverns.11 Readers of Herodotus (3.81), Euripides (Hec. 607), or Xenophon (An. 2.6.10) might remember that ajkovlasto" described unruly mobs, the dêmos, ochlos, and army respectively. Of these three, the sentiments found in the passage of Euripides are particularly apropos. Hecuba feared the Greek multitude because she wanted to protect the corpse of Polyxena from their touch: e[n toi murivw/ strateuvmati ajkovlasto" o[clo" nautikhv t j ajnarciva kreivsswn purov", kako;" d j oJ mhv ti drw`n kakovn. In the army’s countless numbers is a licentious mob and sailors’ anarchy more incendiary than fire. Bad is he who does nothing bad.

The language leaves no doubt about Hecuba’s anti-democratic sentiments. The mob lacked sufficient reason and self-control to govern effectively. 11

peri; de; Buzantivwn kai; Kalchdonivwn oJ aujtov" fhsi Qeovpompo" tavde: h\san de; oiJ Buzavntioi kai; dia; to; dhmokratei`sqai polu;n h[dh crovnon kai; th;n povlin ejp j ejmporivou keimevnhn e[cein kai; to;n dh`mon a{panta peri; th;n ajgora;n kai; to;n limevna diatrivbein ajkovlastoi kai; sunousiavzein kai; pivnein eijqismevnoi ejpi; tw`n kaphleivwn.

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

35

Meanwhile, the military context, the depraved crowd, the sailors not beholden to anyone or anything, influencing one another to base deeds, all could just as easily apply to the Tarentine attack on the Roman ships. Of course, there is no way to prove that Dionysius was deliberately trying to evoke this passage in the minds of his readers, but what we have already seen suggests that he did choose vocabulary to encourage the educated audience to make such literary connections.12 In the end, the text of Appian will make clear that Thais was the demagogue who incited his fellow citizens to man their warships, as the democratic overtones of ajselgh;" and ajkolavstou suggest.13 The elaborate fabrication of the fragment, the choice of vocabulary, and the inclusion of a nickname which can only have been supplied by someone familiar with the history of Alexander the Great, Dionysius himself perhaps, undermine the historicity of the details. In the meantime, Thais was not the only Tarentine guilty of licentious behavior. Whereas Polybius only mentioned a vague ajsevlgeian committed against the Roman ambassadors, Dionysius presented a fully developed and outrageous scene. PHILONIDES AND THE FABRICATION OF ‘TRUTH’ The text (D. H. 19.5) begins with the dispatch of the ambassador Postumius to the Tarentines (Postovmio" prevsbu" ejstavlh pro;" Tarantivnou"), charged with seeking reparations for the attack on the Roman ships. Although Dionysius did not provide the ambassador’s prae- or cognomen, it is natural to connect him with Lucius Postumius Megellus, consul three times (305, 294, 291), who appeared in earlier fragments (17–18.4–5) and acquired notoriety in Roman history as a figure of some controversy.14 By 281 he must have been in his mid-sixties, as was Q. Fabius Maximus when he captured Tarentum from Hannibal in 209.15 Once at his destination, he 12 Aristocratic Romans already considered the populus a collective of passions and base desires which needed the auctoritas and gravitas of magistrates to keep it in check. Thucydides’ resurgent popularity at Rome in the 40s B.C. meant that Dionysius could count on a readership familiar with the Athenian’s views on the troubles with democracy, Wiseman, Clio’s Cosmetics 112. 13 A later fragment of Dionysius (19.7) blames demagogues for the problems in democracies, not the dêmos itself. 14 T. R. S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic vol. 1 (1986) [henceforth MRR] 189–90. R. E. A. Palmer, Athenaeum 78 (1990) 15, has suggested that the cognomen derives from Greek mevga" with a diminutive Latin ending. The ‘Little Big Man’ was part of the second generation to receive Greek cognomina. B. Bravo and M. Griffin discuss evidence for Postumius’ career, Athenaeum 66 (1988) esp. 496–521. 15 I have calculated the age assuming that Postumius held the first consulship at the

36

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

found the Tarentines more interested in the imperfections of his Greek than in the demands delivered via this medium: kaiv tina aujtou` diexiovnto" lovgon oujc o{pw" prosei`con aujtw`/ th;n diavnoian h] logismou;" ejlavmbanon oiJ Taranti`noi swfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn kai; peri; povlew" kinduneuouvsh" bouleuomevnwn, ajll j ei[ ti mh; kata; to;n ajkribevstaton th`" E J llhnikh`" dialevktou carakth`ra uJp j aujtou` levgoito parathrou`nte" ejgevlwn. While he was making his speech, the Tarentines did not pay attention nor did they take stock of the situation as prudent men would take counsel when their city is in danger, but watching intently they laughed if something was said by him not in accordance with the most accurate style of the Greek language.

Ennius opined that the Romans were more sapientipotentes than Pyrrhus. In Dionysius the Tarentines were not any wiser, failing to consider the danger to their city (oujc … swfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn kai; peri; povlew" kinduneuouvsh" bouleuomevnwn). The descendants of the Spartan colonists laughed at the idea of a barbarian speaking Greek, a remarkable detail. While it is easy enough to imagine that the Roman ambassador might have made a few errors here and there while speaking as is normal with a non-native in such situations, the notion that the assembled citizens of Taras would snicker during the speech or hold him to the highest standard of linguistic competence is highly suspect.16 Dionysius, in a likely variation on the topos of mise en abyme, which has the reader imaginatively engaged like the spectators in the scene, encourages us to view the seated Tarentines from Postumius’ perspective as all eyes gazed upon him (parathrou`nte").17 age of 40. In 280, Appius Claudius Caecus who was probably just a few years older (cens. 312; cos. 307, 296; praetor 295) had to be carried to the forum in a litter and into the curia by family members (Plu. Pyrrh. 18.5–6). 16 Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome 467 n. 43, disagrees: ‘An interesting and certainly authentic detail is that Postumius spoke in Greek, and was jeered for his mistakes and funny accent’. Cf. J. Kaimio, The Romans and the Greek Language (1979) 96–7, and Palmer, Athenaeum 78 (1990) 15. On the meaning of carakth`r, see W. K. Pritchett, Dionysius of Halicarnassus: On Thucydides (1975) 49. 17 Parathrou`nte" could lead some to imagine themselves among the Greeks or to view the whole scene in its entirety at a remove, a position in line with the ‘didactic arena’ of Davidson, JRS 81 (1991) 16. Walker, TAPA 123 (1993) 361–3, discusses mise en abyme and at 370 problematizes Davidson’ view, adding, ‘Polybius dismisses as “unprofitable to the reader” precisely the sort of material that Dionysius might choose to work up into a dramatic narrative, “full of amazing and remarkable reversals”’. In the context of his analysis of the battle of the Curiatii and Horatii, he argues ‘on this reading of the historian as “spectator”, Dionysius’ spectators see what they want to see in the absence of precise details’, 372. On mise en abyme, see also D. Fowler, ‘Epic in the Middle of the Wood’ in Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations (2000), edd. A. Sharrock and H. Morales, 89–90, and T. Rood, Thucydides: Narrative and Explanation (1998) 11–4 and 294–6, on the complexities of focalization.

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

37

Meanwhile, Roman negotiations with Greeks were hardly novel.18 One might further wonder why an interpreter was not used in a matter of such grave importance.19 Even if Postumius did not speak flawlessly, he certainly had no trouble delivering his message effectively since ‘the Greeks became angry at his threats and called the Romans barbarians’ (kai; pro;" ta;" ajnatavsei" ejtracuvnonto kai; barbavrou" ajpekavloun).20 On these grounds, we are right to reject the details of this report. More convincing, however, is whence Dionysius got the idea to suggest that Postumius might not have spoken Greek well. He discovered no anecdote in the annalistic tradition, or at least not one about Postumius Megellus at Taras. Through this episode Dionysius furnished an explanation as to why ‘representatives of the Roman state employed only Latin in all official exchanges with foreign peoples and their spokesmen’.21 One might attribute a second, and far more subtle reason, to Dionysius’ knowledge of Roman historiography. To this day, he tests the breadth of his audience’s reading by recalling the introduction of the history written in Greek by A. Postumius Albinus c. 150 B.C.22 This Postumius apologized (in a vague, past general construction like that seen above?) for any mistakes he might have made since he was writing in a foreign tongue. For this, he earned the criticism of Cato the Elder (Gel. 11.8) and Polybius (39.1.4–9) who endorsed Cato’s position in language that shares some notable echoes with the account of Dionysius. 23 Polybius remarked on how inappropriate it was for Postumius Romans assumed protection of the Neapolitans in 327/326 although there were probably no direct meetings with the Tarentines at this point. Other reports of Romans receiving grain from the Syracusans in the fifth century, developing relations with the Massaliotes and Rhodians, not to mention visits to Delphi (D. S. 14.93), suggest at least irregular contact. Religion offered an important medium, see E. S. Gruen, Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome (1992) 227–30. More dubious traditions offered possiblities for direct negotiations between Romans and Tarentines, see below pp. 88– 92. Cf. Lomas, RWG 44–50. 19 Kaimio, Romans and the Greek Language 94–102, P. R. Franke, ‘Dolmetschen in hellenistischer Zeit’ in Zum Umgang mit fremden Sprachen in der griechisch-römischen Antike (1992), edd. C. W. Müller, K. Sier, and J. Werner, 85–96, and R. Weis, ‘Zur Kenntnis des Griechischen im Rom der republikanischen Zeit’ in ibid. 137–42. 20 All manuscripts read ajnastavsei" rather than ajnatavsei". Syllburg proposed the emendation which was adapted by Gabba in his Teubner edition. I have followed this reading. It is ironic that these ‘threats’ are the only hint of fetial procedure since Dionysius contains the best introduction to this in our possession, A. Watson, International Law in Archaic Rome (1993) 1–4. 21 Gruen, Culture and Identity 235. 22 Dionysius did not cite Postumius in the extant books, see Palmer, Athenaeum 78 (1990) 18: ‘We have no reason to believe that A. Albinus had left any impression on Roman literary culture’. 23 For Cato, see Peter, HRR 124–5. Gruen, Culture and Identity 257, provides more references to Postumius and Cato’s reaction. 18

38

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

to ask to be excused if he committed any barbarisms (paraitei`sqai suggnwvmhn e[cein, eja;n barbarivzh/, th`" aJpavsh" ajtopiva" ei\nai shmei`on). He went on to say such a man deserved to be laughed at (gevlwta to;n toiou`ton ojflei`n) as did historiographers of the same ilk (o{per e[dei kai; tou;" toiouvtou" iJstoriogravfou"). By making the ancestor an actual victim of the potential criticisms A. Postumius imagined for himself and the laughter Polybius condoned, Dionysius quite wittily demonstrated his knowledge of Roman historiography via this reference, although not at the expense of L. Postumius Megellus. If the senatorial legate at all erred during his oration, we are not told so.24 Rather, we read about the Tarentines who ‘watching intently laughed if something was said by him not in accordance with the most accurate style of the Greek language’ (ajll j ei[ ti mh; kata; to;n ajkribevstaton th`" E J llhnikh`" dialevktou carakth`ra uJp j aujtou` levgoito parathrou`nte" ejgevlwn), a reaction made up to suit the occasion according to the conventions of inventio and to focus our attention on the Greeks’ bad behavior.25 Furthermore, here is evidence that at least part of Dionysius’ account owed very little to sources contemporary with the Pyrrhic War. Since the time of Thucydides, authors coeval with the events which they related generally composed the speeches in their histories. We should therefore not be surprised that those who lived long after what they narrated provided details of this kind in a deliberate characterization. One could look to such authorities as Homer and Thucydides, to name but two, for models of reprehensible conduct and misplaced priorities. If Romans associated Greeks with negative qualities such as levitas thanks to their own direct experience, acquaintance with Greek literature would confirm that the observation was hardly original. Here is a beautiful illustration.26 Who else but a people dedicated to symposia and luxury would be so irresponsible as to fail to recognize the seriousness of a Roman legate’s visit, paying attention to everything but the content of his message and the consequences for their polis. Cf. Adams, Bilingualism 11–2. Polybius (39.1.4) used th`" E J llhnikh`" dialevktou in his discussion of Postumius Albinus. Dionysius (Pomp. 3) employs a similar phrase in discussing the chief virtue of historical writing, purity in words, and preserving the character of Greek dialect (hJ kaqara; toi`" ojnovmasi kai; to;n E J llhniko;n carakth`ra swv/zousa diavlekto"), which Herodotus and Thucydides did with Ionic and Attic respectively. Presumably, Gnaeus Pompeius would have gotten the reference. 26 Embracing aspects of instability, rashness, and irresponsibility, levitas connotes absence of good faith, honor, and trustworthiness. It is a prominent feature associated with Greeks in Cicero’s Pro Flacco, see N. K. Petrocheilos, Roman Attitudes to the Greeks (1974) 40–1. Polybius (39.1.10–2) in his critique of A. Postumius Albinus accused him of picking up the worst vices of the Greeks (ta; ceivrista tw`n E J llhnikw`n ). These included love of pleasure and aversion to toil. 24 25

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

39

Dionysius did not specify whether the entire embassy was heard in full or not, something of a shame since he had a golden opportunity to demonstrate his rhetorical talents by composing Postumius’ speech. We only know that the Tarentines became angry at what Postumius had to say and at last began to throw him out of the theatre (kai; teleutw`nte" ejxevballon ejk tou` qeavtrou), the specific mention of which performs several functions. From an historical standpoint, there is nothing unusual about this locale as the meeting place for the Tarentines or the hearing of a foreign embassy. At the same time, we are transported into the realm of the dramatic and the metahistorical.27 The theatricality of this episode is very tangible and manifests itself in a number of ways, through the location and the frequent mention of laughter. The inclusion of the crowd watching intently (parathrou`nte") and other similar clues suggest a performance of some kind, then lend credibility to the narrative by implying that there were witnesses to confirm what happened. Dionysius’ use of the imperfect tense, meanwhile, lets us know that as the Greeks were laughing, the scene was just getting started. While the Romans were making their exit (D. H. 19.5), apparently without too much Tarentine help, they encountered ‘Philonides, one of the Tarentines standing around the parodos’ (ajpiovntwn d j aujtw`n ei|" tw`n ejfesthkovtwn ejn th`/ parovdw/ Tarantivnwn, Filwnivdh" o[noma). At last, we have a name, and what a character. This Tarentine was thoroughly disreputable, described as a spermolovgo" a[nqrwpo", a very curious choice of adjective. We learn that he ‘spent his life drunk’ (o}" ajpo; th`" oijnoflugiva", h|/ para; pavnta to;n bivon ejkevcrhto) and as a result had earned the nickname, ‘Kotylê’, (proshgoreuveto Kotuvlh), which could mean ‘drinking-cup’, ‘ladle’, or ‘half-pint’. Here Dionysius clearly tapped into the stereotypes about Tarentine drinking derived from Plato and Theopompus, but more specifically the former. The Spartan Megillus had complained about excessive drinking at Taras during the Dionysia, the festival which also presumably featured the theatre as a central locale. Now, the Roman Megellus, not so obviously following his Spartan model and near-namesake given that the text makes no mention of Plato or of the cognomen, would have grounds to do much the same thanks to Philonides.28 27 Wuilleumier, Tarente 105, and Feldherr, Spectacle and Society in Livy’s History 165–217. 28 Equating Postumius’ experience with that of a Spartan implies that the Romans were the true heirs of the Lacedaemonians. On the roots of Laconism in Italy, see E. Rawson, The Spartan Tradition in European Thought (1991) 99. Strabo (5.4) accused the Tarentines of inventing a Spartan origin for the Samnites and Urso, TXS 50, includes references to the numismatic evidence. According to Servius (A. 8.638) Cato and Cn. Gellius identified the eponymous ancestor of the Sabines as the Lacedaemonian Sabus. Dionysius (2.49.2–5), however, distinguished between Cato, who claimed Sabus was

40

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

Since the extant work of Polybius reported none of this, we can only speculate where else, in Roman or Greek texts, Dionysius would have discovered not just Thais, but a second nickname at the end of the first century B.C., long after the alleged insult took place. One good possibility is that no annalist or third-century author had preserved or created Kotylê. Rather, Dionysius put his own talents to work. Given the propensities attributed to Philonides, such a nickname would be obvious in and of itself. The kotylê was a measure of about 8 oz./0.22 to 0.27 l.29 If this is the quantity Dionysius intended, the implication is that our Tarentine became quickly intoxicated and could not hold his liquor. The literary tradition provides other explanations. Athenaeus’ eleventh book abounds in references to cups and drinking. Diodorus the Grammarian’s testimony (11.478b) identified the kovt ulo", a deep drinking-bowl, as common among the Sicyonians and the Tarentines:30 KOTULOS … Diovdwro" d j ejn tw`/ pro;" Lukovfrona para; Sikuwnivoi" kai; Tarantivnoi" ejpipolavzein fhsi; to; e[kpwma, ei\nai d j aujto; louthrivw/ ejoiko;" baqei`. e[cei de; kai; ou\" ejniach`/. Kotylos … Diodorus in the Reply to Lycophron says that this drinking cup is prevalent among the Sicyonians and the Tarentines, it is similar to a deep louterios. Sometimes it also has a handle.

The notion that Philonides’ nickname was something like ‘deep cup’ better suits the stereotype of endless symposia. It is conceivable that the popularity of the shape persisted for hundreds of years or that representations of it may have survived, in the form of coins, for example. Although a very hypothetical conjecture, it is possible that Dionysius had seen one of these. Tarentine silver staters often portray a seated figure or dolphin-rider holding a large drinking cup, known to modern archaeologists as a kantharos.31 Notably, there is one example of a kantharos from Thespiai in the Louvre which is inscribed as a kotylos.32 This is, perhaps, the shape we should imagine at the mention of Philonides’ nickname. the son of the god Sancus, and other ‘native sources’ (ejn iJstorivai" ejpicwrivoi"), who gave a Spartan origin to the Sabines. H. Beck and U. Walter, Die Frühen Römischen Historiker I (2001) 185–7, say the conflict in our sources cannot be resolved owing to the brevity of each. 29 H.-J. Schulzki, Der Neue Pauly 6 (1999) 783. 30 That Diodorus actually wrote a work called the Pro;" Lukovfrona is questionable and probably represents a misunderstanding on the part of Athenaeus, s.v. Diodorus in Der Kleine Pauly. 31 For examples, see C. M. Kraay, Archaic and Classical Greek Coins (1976), plates 298 (rev.), 299 (rev.), 303 (rev.), 307 (rev.), and 309 (rev.). 32 G. Richter and M. Milne, Shapes and Names of Athenian Vases (1935) 26.

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

41

If the gender of the noun seems problematic, Diodorus (Ath. 11.478e) went on to mention that Homer called the kovt ulo" kotuvlh: Diovdwro" de; to;n parav tisi kovtulon kotuvlhn wjnomakevnai to;n poihthvn ‘puvrnon kai; kotuvlhn’. o}n kuvlika me;n oujk ei\nai, ouj ga;r e[cein duvo w\ta, paraplhvsion d j uJpavrcein louthrivw/ baqei`, pothrivou de; ei\do" ei\nai. Diodorus says that what some authors call the kotulos the poet (sc. Homer) called kotylê, ‘wheat-bread and a cup’. It is not the same thing as a kylix, since it does not have two handles, but is close to a deep louterios, yet the form is that of a drinkingcup.

Thus, the terms were interchangeable.33 Both the kovt ulo" and kotuvlh were sacred to Dionysus as literary sources in Athenaeus (Pamphilus and Polemon at 11.478c; Nicander at 11.479d) make clear. As for the feminine form chosen for Philonides, this implies his effeminate nature and inability to demonstrate virtus or aretê.34 A fragment of Aristophanes’ lost comedy Cocalus (Athen. 11.478d) mentions a group of older women undecorously drinking lots of Thasian wine from big cups (kotuvlai" megavlai"). The danger of alcohol in women’s hands was a well-known topos in the ancient world and Philonides’ actions would hardly have won him a place in the company of ‘real’ men. Ultimately, the point is that Dionysius combined a number of pre-existing traditions, concerning Tarentines and Greeks in general, to construct these elements of his narrative. Other fragments of his nineteenth book, which concern the foundation of Taras (19.1.2–4) and the settlement of Spartans at Callipolis (19.3), show that he had conducted wide reading in preparation for the events of the Pyrrhic War. Now that we have become acquainted with Philonides and how his nickname was created, we can turn to his condition and actions, in short to the elaboration of Polybius’ ajsevlgeian. Dionysius’ less than subtle characterization informs the reader that Kotylê was still in the midst of the previous day’s drunkenness (mesto;" w]n e[ti th`" cqizh`" mevqh"), an important detail given what was about to happen next. He approached the Roman only to lift up his clothing, arrange himself in a manner most shameful to see, and soil the ambassador’s sacred toga with an impure substance not fit to be spoken (ajnasuravmeno" th;n peribolh;n kai; schmativsa" eJauto;n wJ" ai[sciston ojfqh`nai, th;n oujde; levgesqai prevpousan ajkaqarsivan kata; th`" iJera`" ejsqh`to" tou` presbeutou` kateskevdase).35 Given such a de33 Dionysius (Amm. 2.10–11) complained about Thucydides’ tendency to change the genders of words. 34 ‘Kotylê and kotylos seem to refer to no fixed shape’, Richter and Milne, Shapes and Names of Athenian Vases 27. Cf. R. M. Cook, Greek Painted Pottery (1997) 225–6, who identifies the shape with the skyphos, but points out that the names are purely modern convention, 208. 35 One famous individual said to have urinated on others, in the same way he

42

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

scription, we must ask ourselves what the chances are that a town drunk just happened to be hanging around the theatre during a public assembly. Then, while still ‘full of yesterday’s drink’, he successfully managed to carry out an insult of this kind. The word ajnasuravmeno" attracts our notice because it occurs in two passages of Theophrastus, ‘shamelessness’ (ajpovnoia) and ‘obnoxiousness’ (bdeluriva) (Char. 6.3 and 11.2), in the latter of which the less than charming protagonist exposes himself, oi|o" ajpanthvsa" gunaixi;n ejleuqevrai" ajnasuravmeno" dei`xai to; aijdoi`on (the sort of man who, once he has encountered women of free status, raises his garment to display his genitals).36 Dionysius has supplied the kind of insult one would expect an ‘obnoxious’ drunk to deliver, since a speech was presumably out of the question. The dramatic touches, the fact that the affront was delivered from a most shameful posture (… ai[sciston ojfqh`nai) and in an impure form not fit to be spoken (th;n oujde; levgesqai prevpousan ajkaqarsivan), are meant to provoke our sense of outrage as we empathize with the Roman experience. Those familiar with Theophrastus would have appreciated the deft reference to his work. We also see the reason for including the information about the quantity of wine Philonides had consumed. At least once in the plays of Aristophanes, urinating on someone else served as a sign of impotence.37 Next, Dionysius made the reference to comedy more explicit by turning to the reaction of the Greek spectators: Gevlwto" de; katarragevnto" ejx o{lou tou` qeavtrou kai; sugkrotouvntwn ta;" cei`ra" tw`n ajgerwcotavtwn ejmblevya" eij" to;n Filwnivdhn oJ Postovmio" ei\pen: dexovmeqa to;n oijwnovn, w\ spermolovge a[nqrwpe, o{ti kai; ta; mh; aijtouvmena divdote hJmi`n. While laughter broke out from the entire theatre and the arrogant Tarentines applauded, Postumius looked at Philonides and said, ‘We accept the omen, you babbler, because you also give us that which we do not seek’. performed his other bodily functions in public, was Diogenes the Cynic, see D. Krueger, ‘The Bawdy and Society’ in The Cynics. The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and its Legacy (1996), edd. R. B. Branham and M.-O. Goulet-Cazé, 223 and 226. 36 Polybius (13.4.4) remarked that the Tarentine Heracleides (see n. 6 of this chapter), possibly an important model for those of Dionysius, possessed great superiorities, in shamelessness and self-indulgence/laziness/knavery (megavla d j ejschkevnai proterhvmata pro;" ajpovnoian kai; rJa/diourgivan). 37 J. Henderson, The Maculate Muse (1975) 194, notes that in Aristophanes, ‘urination is mentioned only infrequently, usually with a reference to incontinent old men’. Nevertheless, ‘to urinate on someone was to defile him, of course: thus Carion’s friend fears that the newly dominant women will katourhvsousiv mou (Ec. 832), that is, treat him like nothing. Similarly, the impotent poets of R 95 can merely defile Lady Tragedy (prosourhvsanta) …’.

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

43

Philonides’ actions met with laughter and applause. The crowd responded as if they were attending a humorous play rather than hearing an important matter of state. The participle ejmblevya", meanwhile, encourages the reader to view the action from Postumius’ perspective as he heard the clapping of the arrogant Greeks and looked upon Philonides to deliver his rebuke. The drunk’s shameful and disgusting actions elicited a notable reaction from their victim including the reprimand, dexovmeqa to;n oijwnovn, w\ spermolovge a[nqrwpe, o{ti kai; ta; mh; aijtouvmena divdote hJmi`n. This clever retort equates the perpetrator with a bird of omen (oijwnovn) while employing the adjective spermolovgo", literally ‘seed-gathering’, but metaphorically extended to mean ‘babbler’ or ‘gossip’, a bit odd since Philonides has said nothing.38 Aristotle (H. A. 592b) used the word for the rook, a European corvine. Earlier in the passage, the Tarentines were the ones ‘watching closely’ (parathrou`nte"), but Postumius proved superior at augury since he spotted the sign. The legate’s language metaphorically transformed the bird of omen, oijwnovn, into a raven, spermolovgo", whose croaks or caws, no doubt, would have been a welcome improvement in Roman eyes to the more physical and crude means of expression chosen by the Tarentine. Postumius himself changed from a man mocked for his Greek to one capable of easy fluency marked by artful construction, further evidence of Dionysius’ use of inventio throughout the episode. Megellus also appeared to demonstrate a knowledge of Greek literature one would not expect of a Roman before the Tarentine Livius Andronicus, himself taken to Rome at the war’s conclusion in 272, had translated the Odyssey into Latin. Spermolovgo" has comic associations witnessed by its appearance in Aristophanes’ play the Birds (232). This is the second time a form of it has occurred in the passage.39 Dionysius employed the word as the narrator to describe Philonides. Postumius’ prescient repetition with oijwnovn brings Aristophanes to the learned reader’s mind with good reason. Names in Greek comedy, in this case of the Athenian author’s hero, Peisthetaerus, like Kotylê, reflect their character’s conduct. Peisthetaerus (‘He who persuades companions’) was good at convincing others. Philonides/Kotylê played the part of a drunk all too well. Similar also is the fact that Peisthetaerus and Euelpides left Athens to escape their debts. One could say that the Tarentines were trying to do much the same at the appearance of the Another fragment of Dionysius (19.4) mentions OiJ spermologwvtatoi tw`n kata; th;n povlin kai; ajnagwgovtatoi (the biggest prattlers of those in the city and the most lacking in learning) probably referring to those responsible for inciting the attack on the Roman ships. 39 The surviving text of Polybius does not feature spermolovgo". While a Pandora search of the fragments of Timaeus, Hieronymus, Duris, and Phylarchus similarly produced no hits, the evidence is far too scanty to allow any conclusions. 38

44

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

Roman embassy. Finally, spermolovgo" appears to be an erudite allusion to the Tarentines’ own fluvake" comedies. Fluvax itself means ‘speaker of nonsense’ or ‘jester’ and thus serves as a synonym for spermolovgo".40 The references to phlyax comedies begin, appropriately enough, with the setting in the theatre of Taras where the plays were performed. Next there is the frequent mention of mockery and laughter throughout the whole episode, starting with Postumius’ entrance at which point Dionysius gave him no words to speak. After the insult had been perpetrated Postumius turned to the crowd, a questionable detail in and of itself since he was said to have been exiting the theatre, and displayed the soiled garment, described as ‘outraged’ (e[peita eij" to;n o[clon ejpistrafei;" kai; th;n uJbrismevnhn ejsqh`ta deiknuv"). In the liminal space of the parodos, the senatorial legate must have thought that he was leaving the comedy behind him. He expected now to find support, but met with further derision instead ‘when he learnt that still more laughter arose from everyone and he heard the voices of certain people exulting and praising the outrage’ (…wJ" e[maqen e[t i pleivona ginovmenon ejx aJpavntwn to;n gevlwta kai; fwna;" h[kousen ejnivwn ejpicairovntwn kai; th;n u{brin ejpainouvntwn). Postumius allows us not only to see, but to hear the voices (fwna;" h[kousen) of the Tarentines and to learn (e[maqen) just what kind of people these Greeks really were.41 Some of them were so morally corrupt as to praise hybris (th;n u{brin ejpainouvntwn). The irony is that the Tarentines’ laughter would ultimately lead to their tears. The whole scene is tragi-comic, precisely the way later sources described the fluvake" of Rhinthon.42 The allusion to this genre is completed by the final words of Postumius, who warned, ‘Laugh as long as you are able, men of Taras, laugh. For afterwards, you will weep much’ (Gela`t e e[fhsen e{w" e[xestin uJmi`n a[ndre" Taranti`noi, gela`t e: polu;n ga;r to;n meta; tau`ta crovnon klauvsete). Some of the Tarentines were not happy at the new threat (ejkpikranqevntwn dev tinwn pro;" th;n ajpeilh;n). Aware of this, Postumius added another: kai; i{na Brauer, Taras 100. It should be pointed out that this is the derivation offered by Hesychius. A. D. Trendall, Phlyax Vases, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement 19 (1967) 9, likes the suggestion by Radermacher that the word refers to the padding of the actors’ costumes. 41 Dionysius was influenced by Lysias’ ability to describe the surrounding circumstances (ta parakalouthonta), Schultze, ‘Dionysius of Halicarnassus and his audience’ 127. Of course, this interest in directing the viewer’s perception of the scene is hardly unique to either, see Davidson, JRS 81 (1991), and Walker, TAPA 123 (1993). 42 Rhinthon’s work was described as fluakografiva and iJlarotragwidiva . For references, see Wuilleumier, Tarente 618–21, and O. Taplin, Comic Angels (1993) 49– 52. T. P. Wiseman, Historiography and Imagination (1994) 11, argues this genre of ‘cheerful tragedy’ continued at Rome. 40

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

45

ge ma`llon, e[fhsen, ajganakthvshte, kai; tou`q j uJmi`n levgomen, o{ti pollw`/ th;n ejsqh`ta tauvthn ai{mati ejkplunei`t e (‘So that you are vexed all the more’, he said, ‘I say this to you: that you will wash this garment with much of your blood’), one of the great lines from the annals of Roman history, but more than likely not from an annalist. All of this was not bad for a man whose Greek was the subject of ridicule at the beginning of the passage. The speech was also not too rhetorically elaborate, as we would expect for a Roman during this period.43 Granted there are more connecting words than one would like, and the syntax may be too hypotactic. Three subordinate clauses appear. One might also object to the two instances of hyperbaton (polu;n, pollw`/), but, aside from being common in the speeches Dionysius composed, one could argue they are for emphasis, much like the repetition of the command to laugh.44 Touches of the latter sort also give the impression that Postumius was gathering his thoughts.45 Dionysius never described the ambassador’s mood or attitude, nor was this really necessary. In opposition to the conspicuous and ill-considered misbehavior of Philonides, the senatorial legate remained perfectly calm and upbraided his assailant in a manner which showed neither revulsion nor concern for the personal insult which had taken place. One wonders if the Spartan Megillus could have maintained his composure under such circumstances. Postumius acted exactly as the ideal Roman should; he was a model of gravitas, dignitas, and severitas who performed his diplomatic mission with seriousness of purpose and focus on the larger issues, with the kind of timing, rhetorical aplomb, and presence of mind few people would show in such circumstances. These were not the words or actions of a real Roman. They were those of a stereotype who found his opposite among the Tarentine dêmos. In fact, while the name Philônidas is attested at Taras and throughout the Greek-speaking world, I would suggest that the ‘son’ or ‘descendant of Philon’ also may be rendered as ‘lover of reproach’, Philooneidos, and that the episode was deliberately constructed to illustrate this pun.46 Dionysius had engaged in play on names before.47 Turnus (1.64) he

J. P. Lynch, G & R, 2nd ser., vol. 27.2 (1980) 170–9. S. Usher, ANRW 30.1 (1982) 828. 45 Lynch, G & R, 2nd ser., vol. 27.2 (1980) 171–2. 46 All four volumes of the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names attest to the popularity of Philonidas/-es in the Greek world. Volume 3a 463–4 has three listings for Tarentines with this appellation. Two may be the same individual and the third is our Kotylê. The RE vol. 20.1 col. 61–3 lists five Philonides; the second is the one with which we have been concerned. The third, meanwhile, was an Attic comic poet according to the Suidas, and the fifth was a mathematician and Epicurean. 47 See also below pp. 50–2. 43 44

46

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

transformed into ‘Etruscan’, Turrhnov".48 Even the cognomen of a fellow historian, L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi, could be used to rhetorical effect. In relating the story of Tarpeia (2.38–40), Dionysius presented alternate versions which disagreed on the young woman’s motivations for conferring with the Sabines. Q. Fabius Pictor and L. Cincius Alimentus accused her of betraying the city out of a desire for the gold ornaments worn by the Romans’ enemies. Piso disagreed (2.40.3) and argued that she wanted to trick the Sabines into handing over their shields rather than jewelry.49 This argument struck Dionysius as more true on the basis of what happened to the young woman later (e[oike de; ta; meta; tau`ta genovmena th;n Peivswno" ajlhqestevran poiei`n ajpovfasin). Both versions concur in her being bludgeoned to death by and buried under Sabine shields. Piso said that she was honored with a tomb on the city’s most sacred hill and that the Romans offered libations to her.50 Before Dionysius related Piso’s reasoning, he alerted his audience to the fact that he was repeating what the annalist had written, levgw de; a} Peivswn gravfei.51 Although Dionysius concluded this section by urging each person to judge for him- or herself, the parenthetical remark reinforced his finding that Piso’s account was more true. The name in Greek, Peivswn, corresponds in form to the future active participle of peivqw, the verb to persuade. Thus, the aside could also literally read, ‘I say what the man about to persuade wrote’. Admittedly, this is not as elaborate as constructing an entire episode around a pun. Nevertheless, the two examples illustrate the different ways Dionysius employed this rhetorical tool to meet his stated goal (1.8.3) of a varied narrative. In the account of the events at Taras, Postumius, the embodiment of the mos maiorum, met his foil in the eminently rebukable ‘lover of reproach’. Aristophanes included a Philonides in his Plutus (179, 303), ‘a clumsy blockhead with a voice like the braying of a jackass. But being rich, he became the lover of Lais the courtesan’.52 Of course, the two Philonides 48

31.

D. Musti, Tendenze nella storiografia romana e greca su Roma arcaica (1970)

49 In light of Tarpeia’s desire to acquire something in both versions, it would be interesting to know if Dionysius saw a connection between Tarp- and Greek tevrpw, ‘to delight’, which exhibits tarp- in middle and passive forms, s.v. LSJ. A. WallaceHadrill, JRS 76 (1986) 77, argues that P. Petronius Turpilianus minted coins featuring Tarpeia as a pun on his cognomen. 50 For further references, see G. Forsythe, The Historian L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi and the Roman Annalistic Tradition (1994) 155. J. D. Evans, The Art of Persuasion (1992) 121–3, provides an analysis of the visual evidence. 51 In his life of Marius (45.8), Plutarch spelled the historian Gaius Piso’s name Pivswn. 52 Henderson, The Maculate Muse 194. Athenaeus (13.592c–d) observed that Lais could have been the same as Nais, the courtesan mentioned in Lysias’ speech against Philonides.

Philonides and the Fabrication of ‘Truth’

47

were not parallel in every way nor need they have been. One knew a Lais and the other a Thais. They both enjoyed a certain eujdaimoniva, the Tarentine thanks to his citizenship and having the luxury of dedicating his efforts to procuring wine and insulting the Roman ambassador. The creation of Philonides’ character based on the testimony of Polybius and earlier sources, the complaints of Plato’s Megillus, a knowledge of literature, of stereotypes of Tarentines, and of Greeks in general, cannot help but to lead to the conclusion that he shared one other quality with his Aristophanic namesake: they were both fictionalized. One last clue is the Ionic form of the Tarentine’s name, Philonidas in Doric. Dionysius wrote about dialects on more than one occasion. He considered (1.90.1) the Latin of the Romans to be neither Greek nor barbarian, but rather a mixture of the two with a heavy Aeolic influence ( RJ wmai`oi de; fwnh;n me;n ou[t j a[krw" bavrbaron ou[t j ajphrtismevnw" E J llavda fqevggontai, mikth;n dev tina ejx ajmfoi`n, h|" ejstin hJ pleivwn Aijoliv"). He changed the Ionic of Herodotus into Attic (Comp. 3) to help his readers on one occasion and cited an inscription (1.19.3) seen by the obscure Lucius Mallios at Dodona which preserved one word recognizably Doric in form, na`so" (island). Doric names are harder to come by. A j rcivdamo" (Is. 9; Th. 36, 41), the king of the Spartans at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, furnishes the most prominent example, albeit not from the Roman Antiquities. Nevertheless, the infrequency of Doric names should come as no surprise given the subject matter of Dionysius’ history. He knew of the Tarentines’ origins (19.1) and could have provided the form ‘Philonidas’ had he so chosen. In keeping with the conventions of inventio, Dionysius finished Postumius’ mission by altering Polybius’ genitive absolute (Tarantivnwn dia; th;n eij" tou;" presbeuta;" Rwmaivwn ajsevlgeian … ) to reflect the passage he had created: tau`ta oiJ tw`n RJ wmaivwn prevsbei" uJbrisqevnte" uJpo; tw`n Tarantivnwn ijdiva/ te kai; dhmosiva/ kai; tauvta" ta;" fwna;" ejpiqespivsante" ajpevpleusan ejk th`" povlew". Having suffered these insults at the hands of the Tarentines, both public and private, once they had uttered these prophecies, the Roman ambassadors sailed away from the city.

The Roman ambassadors were now the main subject, not buried within two prepositional clauses. Next, Dionysius underscored the legates’ status as victims through the passive participle, uJbrisqevnte", which captured the idea of the ‘licentiousness’ committed against them as it recalled the evidence of the outrage (th;n uJbrismevnhn ejsqh`ta). The ajsevlgeian became a matter both public and private (ijdiva/ te kai; dhmosiva/), although only one person was subject to having his Greek potentially mocked or specifically

48

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

suffered an outrage. Postumius, however, got the last word, his prophecy to be realized over the next nine years. The Tarentines, like the suitors in the Odyssey, ignored the tragic consequences of scorning an omen, one that the fictionalized Postumius perceived, seen even better with Augustan hindsight. Dionysius embroidered the entire narrative in a manner which made reference to an array of Greek literature which characterized not only Tarentines, but negative Greek stereotypes in general. A moral tone was not unique to the Roman annalistic tradition, nor need it have been the product of pro-Roman bias. Dionysius, in criticizing objectionable conduct, followed a long-standing Greek tradition.53 We should not be surprised then that he did much the same with the next episode set at Taras. METON: THE FEAR FACTOR After narrating the debates at Rome which resulted in the decision to go to war (19.6), Dionysius recounted much the same for Taras. As one might expect, there is a studied contrast between the processes in each city. The Roman discussion took place over many days from dawn until dusk under the supervision of the consul Aemilius Barbula. Dionysius did not supply the particulars. The minimal depiction sufficed to portray Roman dedication to public service and virtue, particularly when sandwiched between Postumius’ treatment and the Tarentine debate about summoning Pyrrhus and his mercenary army. When the story resumed at Taras (D. H. 19.8.1–3), the dêmos had assembled to deliberate on its course of action. The Tarentines who wanted to call Pyrrhus from Epirus in the war against Rome drove those opposing them from the theatre (tw`n Tarantivnwn boulomevnwn ejk th`" H j peivrou Puvrron metakalei`n ejpi; to;n kata; RJ wmaivwn povlemon kai; tou;" kwluvonta" ejxelaunovntwn), suggestive of rifts in Tarentine society. Some have imagined that the anti-war group, hindered from expressing its view, corresponds to the wealthier, more aristocratic citizens of Taras, but what follows should make us hesitate about the reality of such conclusions.54 After the long genitive absolute, Meton suddenly appeared determined to grab the crowd’s attention: Cf. Lomas, RWG 13–7, and M. R. Lefkowitz, HSCP 64 (1959) 147–78. This is not to suggest that pro-Roman bias did not exist as with Livy’s account of Manlius Torquatus fighting the Gaul, see S. P. Oakley, A Commentary on Livy Books VI–X vol. 2 (1998) [henceforth Comm.] 115. Rather, I wish to suggest that the use of Greek sources problematizes its detection. 54 See n. 9 of the Introduction. Cf. Brauer, Taras 125, and Lomas, RWG 51. 53

Meton: The Fear Factor

49

Mevtwn ti" kai; aujto;" Taranti`no", i{na tuvcoi prosoch`" kai; didavxeien aujtou;" o{sa meta; th`" basilikh`" ejxousiva" eij" povlin ejleuqevran kai; trufw`san eijseleuvsetai kakav. A certain Meton, also a Tarentine himself, so as to gain attention and to teach them how many evils would be introduced to the free and luxurious city after the king was present.

Identified curiously as ‘a Tarentine himself’, he feared what was to come and took a role warning the others what the Epirote condottiere’s help would mean for their city. The presence of Pyrrhus would herald an end to freedom (ejleuqevran) and their luxurious living (povlin… trufw`san), bringing evils for all (kakav), something of an irony since the Epirote would later acquire a reputation for his mildness (V. Max. 5.1 ext.3a; Plu. Pyrrh. 8.4–5; Quint. Inst. 6.3.10). Meton’s argument demonstrates that he, or rather Dionysius, knew some Hellenistic political theory, particularly the work of Polybius (8.24) who used the example of the Tarentines to illustrate the principle of the anacyclosis. Prosperity led to excessive freedom and then the search for a master, here Pyrrhus, to restore order. Put another way, power led to luxury and then hybris.55 The descendant of Achilles became the last of five mercenary generals hired over a seventy-year period to defend the interests of Taras: parties and plucking hairs if we believe the stereotypes. Meton is a typical Tarentine in wanting to preserve the life of ease and in not possessing the wisdom to observe that this led to the circumstances of the debate. So far, Dionysius relied primarily on Polybius, the same literary stereotypes we saw in the Thais and Philonides passages, and verisimilitude to construct his account. Some kind of debate must have taken place, since the Tarentines had a democracy as Aristotle tells us. The Stagirites’ positive assessment increases the likelihood of public discussion, and Pyrrhus did respond to someone’s call. This does not mean any details survived for later 55 Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 20, discussed the progression of duvnami" – trufhv – u{bri" as applied to Taras, although he did not mention Clearchus. Cf. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 1 643–48, as it applies to the Romans, vol. 2 101 on the Tarentines, and Polybius, Rome and the Hellenistic World (2002) 193–211, as well as Lomas, RWG 14–6, and G. De Sensi Sestito, ‘Taranto post-Architea nel giudizio di Timeo. Nota a Strabo. 6.3.4 C280’. 11a Miscellanea Greca e Romana (1987) 84–113. Purcell CAH2 6 (1994) 389, 393, has observed that the perception of decline at Taras after the death of Archytas in the mid-fourth century B.C. corresponds to a pattern in the ancient literary tradition of a hero followed by unworthy successors. More broadly, one might also look to tragedy for similar ideas, see J. J. Helm, TAPA 134.1 (2004) 23–54, or even the instability of human fortune, see Marincola, Greek Historians 50–1. Put another way, the pattern is one of decline after a Golden Age, see P. Brown, The Making of Late Antiquity (1993) 27–8.

50

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

writers of Roman history or us to discover. No other Meton is known from Taras.56 There was, however, a man by this name from Athens, an astronomer who was later known to Diodorus Siculus (12.36). In the Birds (998), Meton identified himself by declaring his fame was such that ‘Greece knew him, and Colonus’ (… Mevtwn, o}n oi\den E J lla;" cwj Kolwnov").57 Aristophanes (Av. 992–1020) represented him as applying the techniques of urban planning and land survey to astronomy, ‘a regular Thales’ (a[nqrwpo" Qalh`"), and made him a target of the pro-war faction. Plutarch furnishes evidence as to why this was the case. In the lives of Nicias (13.5) and Alcibiades (17.4–5), Attic Meton earned a place by participating in a particular incident. He pretended to be mad and burnt down his house in an effort to hinder the Sicilian expedition, or more specifically the departure of his son.58 Tarentine Meton would also feign an altered state of mind in an effort to prevent his fellow citizens from what he felt was a bad decision.59 Now we know why Dionysius followed Meton’s name with the phrase kai; aujto;" Taranti`no". He wanted to be sure we do not confuse the Tarentine with the famous Athenian. Dionysius may also have chosen this name for one other reason. ‘Meton’ strikes the ear a bit like metuens, the participle of the verb of fearing.60 In a twist on what he did with ‘Philonides’, Dionysius, through the intermorpheme met-, provided a pun for the audience with a knowledge of Latin. Two further examples illustrate the phenomenon. While discussing the origins of the earliest inhabitants of Italy, Dionysius reported (1.10.1–2) how some writers called the Aborigines ( jAboriLGPN 3a 299. N. Dunbar, Aristophanes: Birds (1995) 554, in making the observation that ‘the alleged bathos of mentioning after Hellas a small area like Colonus … may not have existed for Ar.’s audience’ does not go far enough. The joke is not on Colonus, but rather on Meton’s sense of self-importance. Dunbar points out his pompous arrival and how Aristophanes represented him as ‘the comic stereotype of the intellectual ajlazwvn’, 551–2. Dunbar ultimately concludes that the reference to Colonus ‘must have been for some reason known to the audience’, 554–5. 58 See Dunbar, Aristophanes: Birds 551. Cf. A. H. Sommerstein, Aristophanes: Birds (1987) 264–5. 59 B. Niese, Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten vol. 2 (1899) 29, first pointed out the coincidences, noting that Athenian Meton recalled an anecdote about Solon (Plu. Sol. 8.1–2). Solon entered the agora pretending to be mad to urge the Athenians to go to war over Salamis. Niese deemed a Roman annalist responsible for the coincidences in the Tarentine’s story. Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 105 n.4. 60 Catullus had written Hellenized Latin for an audience literate in both languages, see T. P. Wiseman, Clio’s Cosmetics 167–9. F. Biville, ‘The Graeco-Romans and Graeco-Latin: A Terminological Framework for Cases of Bilingualism’ in Bilingualism in Ancient Society (2002), edd. J. N. Adams, M. Janse, and S. Swain, 87–102, esp. 101, provides more examples of such plays for a bilingual audience. 56 57

Meton: The Fear Factor

51

gi`ne") Aberrigines ( A j berrigi`ne") because they had arrived in the area as homeless ‘wanderers’ (plavnhta"). The uncited authorities responsible for the etymology changed the name to reflect more properly the aborigines’ fortunes (parallavttousi de; kai; th;n ojnomasivan aujtw`n ejpi; to; tai`" tuvcai" oijkeiovt eron). Only those with a knowledge of Latin would make the connection between aberr-, aberrare, and plavnhta". Similarly, after informing his audience (1.18.2) that Italy had once been called Saturnia (Satovrnia) and discussing how it came to be inhabited by diverse groups, Dionysius began a digression on the fertility of the country (1.36–38.1), which Kronos/Saturn had ruled. Romans would have recognized the play on satur and related words which convey the idea of abundance.61 Dionysius concluded: Oujde;n dh; qaumasto;n h\n tou;" palaiou;" iJera;n uJpolabei`n tou` Krovnou th;n cwvran tauvthn, to;n me;n daivmona tou`ton oijomevnou" ei\nai pavsh" eujdaimoniva" doth`ra kai; plhrwth;n ajnqrwvpoi", ei[te Krovnon aujto;n dei` kalei`n, wJ" {Ellhne" ajxiou`sin, ei[te Satovrnion, wJ" RJ wmai`oi … . It was no wonder then that the ancients considered this land was sacred to Kronos, thinking that this god was the giver and fulfiller of all prosperity for people, whether one should call him Kronos as the Greeks see fit to do, or Saturn, as the Romans do … .

An additional play, as the title of Petronius’ Satyricon suggests, Saturnia would also have provoked some readers to think of satyrs and Italy’s reputation for good wines.62 Dionysius explained how the land had once been peopled by Oinotrians, led from the Peloponnese into Italy by their eponymous king Oinotros (Oi[nwtro"), whose name closely resembled the Doric word for the stake planted to support growing vines, oi[nwtron. Cato and C. Sempronius Tuditanus (D. H. 1.11) only said that Italy had been settled by Greeks without further elaboration. Dionysius looked to sources like Antiochus (1.12.3) and Pherecydes of Athens (1.13.1) to provide the stories about Oinotros and his people who eventually became the Sicels, Morgetes, and the Italietes (1.12.3). One cannot help wondering if he was doing much the same with his stories about events at Taras. If the parallel holds, Dionysius did not find Meton in any prior Roman annalist, he borrowed him from Greek comedy and historiography as he did the Oinotrians. The same audience members who caught the bilingual play Although the initial ‘a’ of the proper nouns (Saturnus, Saturnia) was long, while that of adjective and verbs (saturo) was short, the roots are related as the entry on Saturn makes clear, s.v. OCD, with further references. 62 On satyrs in Italy at a relatively early date, particularly at the site of Satricum, see Wiseman, Historiography and Imagination 76. A. Tchernia discusses the wines, Le Vin de Italie Romaine (1986). 61

52

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

in A j berrigi`ne" and Satovrnia would have appreciated the connection between Meton and metuere, ‘to fear’. Meton was afraid of a number of things: the decision the democracy was about to make, the arrival of Pyrrhus, the threats that the Epirote presented, the loss of freedom, and the Tarentines’ luxurious mode of living. If he was afraid of the Romans, he never said so, nor did he ever address the problem of what to do about them. The tragi-comedy simply continued. In keeping with the unfolding drama, once the audience had taken their seats (sugkaqhmevnou tou` plhvqou"), Meton arrived in the theatre (parh`n eij" to; qevatron) in costume, and a rather elaborate one at that. He wore a garland as if coming from a symposium (ejstefanwmevno" w{sper ejk sumposivou) and had acquired a flute-girl, a slave, to pipe him in through the parodos to the accompaniment of comic tunes (paidivskhn perieilhfw;" aujlhtrivda kwmastika; mevlh prosaulou`san), whether the music of Aristophanes’ or one of Rhinthon’s phlyax plays we do not know. Readers of Plato and Theopompus would appreciate the attire. This grand entrance produced the desired response from the assembled spectators. Meton’s arrival, like that of Philonides, dispelled the seriousness of the occasion into laughter (dialuqeivsh" de; th`" ajpavntwn spoudh`" eij" gevlwta). Some called out for him to sing a song and others wanted him to dance (kai; tw`n me;n a[/dein aujto;n keleuovntwn, tw`n de; ojrcei`sqai). Instead, much like Postumius, he surveyed the crowd and raised his hand to obtain quiet for himself (periblevya" kuvklw/ kai; th`/ ceiri; diashmhvna" hJsucivan aujtw/ parascei`n). Indeed, this portion of the narrative works on the analogy of a phlyax play in that the scene parodies that of the Roman ambassador just as phlyakes lampooned tragedies. When he silenced the din (ejpeidh; katevsteile to;n qovrubon) and had the attention of the audience, and ours too, Meton delivered his words of warning: ‘ A [ ndre"’, e[fh, ‘poli`tai, touvtwn w|n ejme; poiou`nta oJra`t e nu`n oujde;n uJmi`n ejxevsti poiei`n eja;n basileva kai; froura;n eij" th;n povlin eijselqei`n ejavshte’. (‘Fellow citizens’, he said ‘the things you see me doing now, you will not be able to do if you allow the king and a garrison to enter the city’.) Notable is the way this speech echoes the language of Postumius, who warned the Tarentines to laugh while they might (Gela`te e[fhsen e{w" e[xestin uJmi`n a[ndre" Taranti`noi). Postumius, however, was making his exit. Meton has just entered the scene causing his own chorus of laughter, while his initial warning managed to attract the attention of a good part of the audience: wJ" de; kinoumevnou" kai; prosevconta" ei\de pollou;" kai; keleuvonta" levgein, swvzwn e[ti to; prospoivhma th`" kraipavlh" ta; sumbhsovmena aujtoi`" hjriqmei`to kakav:

The Question of Authorship

53

When he saw who was moved and that many were paying heed and bidding him to speak, still maintaining the pretence of intoxication, he enumerated the evils about to befall them.

One can only imagine what threats to his polis a drunk would perceive or how he would articulate them. Dionysius actually spares us and his imagined audience the slurred delivery by simply remarking that Meton, still staying in character, enumerated the future ills to come. That many of the Tarentines would listen to him and not to the demands of a Roman consular continues to highlight the notion of their lack of wisdom, which manifested itself in more than one kind of misplaced priority. While some citizens shared Meton’s anxiety about an end to symposia, those who foolishly provoked war with Rome were only afraid of his speech and reacted accordingly. Apparently, he was not allowed to complete the list of his fears before the anti-Roman faction drove him from the scene. The pretend reveller was still speaking when those responsible for the evils befalling their city seized and threw him out of the theatre onto his head (e[t i de; aujtou` levgonto" oiJ tw`n kakw`n ai[t ioi sullabovnte" aujto;n kata; kefalh`" ejxwqou`s in ejk tou` qeavtrou). These final parodic elements contrast with the fate of Postumius in several ways. The Roman ambassador maintained his dignitas by having his say before walking out of the theatre under his own power. Furthermore, his speech was not only worth hearing, but prophetic as well, at least in the text of Dionysius. Meton, on the other hand, served to transform what ought to have been a grave discussion into a comic scene, from arrival through to his expulsion, the kind of ridiculous comeuppance appropriate for such a figure. What seemed a serious message in the end was not by either Greek or Roman standards. Our spurious symposiast only wanted to perpetuate a carefree life of parties and democratic indolence. To put it another way, his goal was to maintain a polis in which the likes of a Philonides could contribute to the irreverent ‘fun’ enjoyed by all in the theatre. For this reason, and thanks to Dionysius’ other textual cues, we can conclude that this man was not a real Tarentine. THE QUESTION OF AUTHORSHIP By now, the coincidences in just the Philonides and Meton episodes, their setting in the theatre, the drinking, the recurrence of certain words and phrases in speeches, the illustration of puns, the language evocative of exempla, the use of enargeia in creating dramatic touches as one scene parodies the other, and the focalization encouraging us to evaluate the events from the perspective of certain participants ought to be enough to cast all of the details into doubt. A more perplexing issue concerns who was

54

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

responsible for them, Dionysius or his sources.63 Absolute certainty on this matter is an impossibility; insufficient evidence survives. Likelihood constitutes a more attainable goal, raising the added and important consideration of originality. Increasingly, scholars have argued for the importance of considering an author’s individual merits and contribution to the ‘palimpsest of accumulated tendentiousness’ that is Roman history.64 Yet, prudence and uncertainty often lead to locating that tendentiousness in the past, leaving the perception of authors like Dionysius, Livy, and their successors as compilers rather than as historians eager to carve out their own reputations in accordance with the tastes of their contemporaries.65 To 63 In his first book, Dionysius names Q. Aelius Tubero, L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi, L. Cincius Alimentus, Licinius Macer, Fabius Maximus, Q. Fabius Pictor, M. Porcius Cato, C. Sempronius Tuditanus, M. Terentius Varro, and Valerius Antias. C. Acilius (3.67), Cn. Gellius (2.31 et al.), and Vennonius (4.15.1) appear later. Little is known about many of these and attempts to get at their substance become very quickly complicated by the fact that authors like Dionysius and Livy provide few if any direct quotes. 64 The quote comes from T. P. Wiseman, Roman Drama and Roman History (1998) 76. 65 As Wiseman, Roman Drama and Roman History 75–89, makes perfectly clear, the number of annalists striving to assert their primacy over Roman history leaves one to wonder exactly what new content a Livy or Dionysius could contribute. At the same time, in his search for the influence of Valerius Antias on the Roman historiographical tradition, several details emerge first in Dionysius which need not reflect the influence of Valerius Antias. These include Lucretia’s journeying to Rome by herself after being raped and the wounding of Horatius Cocles in his posterior by an Etruscan spear. P. Valerius appeared in the company of distinguished men, whether en route to Collatia or at Rome, who eventually heard Lucretia’s testimony. This does not necessarily mean that Antias had Lucretia travel to Rome. Horatius Cocles, rather than being ‘subtly denigrated’ and losing ‘his dignity so as not to outshine Valerius Publicola’, 83, could have just as easily suffered the wound for heroic reaons. As presented by Dionysius (5.24.3), not only was Horatius hurt in a number of places, he managed to swim across the river with a wound which would have rendered one leg useless and yet he did not drop a thing. In the Iliad, Meriones killed several opponents (5.66–8; 13.651–5) by striking them in the right buttock. Horatius did not succumb to such a grave wound and the whole scene works far more to his credit than to his shame. Cf. M. B. Roller, CP 99.1 (2004), 12–20. What is more, one would need to demonstrate that Valerius Antias had the agenda of promoting the Valerii at the expense of other Roman heroes rather than just an interest in promoting the importance of the gens. Dionysius, then, and not Valerius might very well have been the source for Plutarch (Publ. 16.6–7) and Appian (Reg. fr. 10) on this one aspect of the Horatius story. Notably, Wiseman, ibid. 86–7, attributes this kind of elaboration, which makes use of Homeric models seen in the Horatius Cocles episode, to an author as early as A. Postumius Albinus rather than to someone later, who, in this author’s humble opinion, would be a more likely candidate. Livy (2.10.11) reported that Horatius managed to swim across the Tiber unscathed as ‘a feat he dared that would be remembered by later generations more for its fame than for

The Question of Authorship

55

reduce Dionysius to more or less the sum of his predecessors does not change the fact that the scenes, as analyzed above, betray a small historical ‘core’ (an insult and a decision to invite Pyrrhus) which was ‘easily’ embellished with the right skills and knowledge. At this point it is worth remarking that the Tarentine or Pyrrhic War comprised a part of the Antiquitates Romanae which ended at the First Punic War. This in and of itself raises questions about the amount of information available to later historiographers, particularly one at the end of the first century B.C.66 In order to construct the Philonides and Meton episodes as presented by Dionysius, one would need to make the connection between Plato’s Megillus and the Roman Megellus. Also required was a good acquaintance with Aristophanes, Plato, Theophrastus, Rhinthon and/or other writers of phlyax plays, a knowledge of Tarentine customs and characteristics, available through an author like Diodorus the Grammarian, and a talent for enargeia. Dionysius (Lys. 7–8) greatly admired Lysias’ ability to convey vividness and to present characterizations, and his own tendency towards ‘fullness’, an ‘alternative sense of akribeia’, has been marked.67 Naturally, Hieronymus and Timaeus undoubtedly provided some information about how the Pyrrhic War began, but the elaboration detectable in the text of Dionysius helps us but little to envision what they said.68 Hellenistic historiography has often been criticized for its tendency towards the tragic, but never the tragi-comic.69 its reliability’ (rem ausus plus famae habituram ad posteros quam fidei). Perhaps Valerius is the one who first said that Horatius managed to swim across the river. Dionysius then restored Polybius’ testimony (6.55.1–4) that Horatius was wounded. 66 Cf. Walker, TAPA 123 (1993) 367: ‘This type of expansion is characteristic of Dionysius – his “fullness” – and it conveys an implicit conviction that a dramatic elaboration of material provides history with akribeia, compensates, as it were, for the paucity of “reliable” material that the historian is faced with in writing archaic history’. Strabo’s short treatment of Taras (6.3.1–4) also gives pause. After a relatively brief description of the city and the harbor, the majority of the discussion concerns the foundation of the polis followed by a summary of its history. While this reflects Plato’s observation (Hp. Ma. 285D) that men enjoyed hearing about ‘the genealogies of both heroes and of men, and of their settling’, the few references to Pyrrhus belie the amount of information that would have been available to him. That is less clear for the careers of the other condottieri who are not known to have written memoirs or to have had so many prominent historians writing about them as well as for Taras itself. 67 Walker, TAPA 123 (1993) 366–7, esp. n. 27. 68 Polybius (12.25i.3–5) criticized Timaeus for his inaccuracy in representing embassies because the Sicilian set forth all possible arguments. K. Meister, Der Neue Pauly vol. 5 (1998) col. 548, says of Hieronymus that he, ‘schrieb in einem schmucklosen und unpretentiösen Stil’. Of course, as Meister points out, that judgment is based on assessments of only 18 fragments. 69 Polybius famously complained (2.56) about the writing of ‘tragic history’. As A.

56

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

The Romans, annalists and not, who wrote before the age of Cicero are similarly unlikely to have constructed the episodes we have seen.70 Sometime after 121 B.C., L. Coelius Antipater (Cic. de Orat. 2.54) produced a rhetorically embellished narrative, the first Roman to do so, but he was not doctus. Cicero criticized (Leg. 1.6) Licinius Macer for not using Greek sources and chided (Leg. 1.7) Sisenna for only imitating one author, Cleitarchus. Early Roman historians such as Cato, Acilius, and Sempronius Tuditanus were interested in Greek settlement in Italy, but Dionysius himself pointed out how inadequate their work was. Annalists have been accused of inserting speeches and scenes which glorified their own ancestors and increased the scale of their histories, but never of introducing figures like a Tarentine drunk or a devoted symposiast into their narratives, much less deliberately creating episodes around such figures, and perhaps, most disturbingly from the modern historian’s perspective, supplying names for them.71 Naturally, there is no proof that someone like Valerius Antias or Q. Aelius Tubero, the dedicatee of Dionysius’ essay on Thucydides, or even Fabius Pictor, did not mention Philonides and Meton. However, the scale of their works alone does make this unlikely.72 We have already seen one example of how Dionysius used Greek authors to supplement the early history of Italy. Several other instances lead one to ask whether certain details are his invention, or those of his sources. H. McDonald, JRS 65 (1975) 4, has remarked: ‘Its influence can be seen in Livy and Tacitus, but is kept well under control’. Somewhat paradoxically, the tragic in ancient history was often disparaged for the pleasure it afforded, see F. W. Walbank, Polybius, Rome and the Hellenistic World 231–41. 70 Beck and Walter, Die Frühen Römischen Historiker 19–21, have recently challenged Cicero’s idea of the evolution of Roman historiography. Cf. Cornell, ‘The formation of the historical tradition of early Rome’ 86: ‘The introduction of rhetorical elaboration and philosophical moralizing, which came at a relatively late stage, had only a superficial effect on the development of the tradition’. Sempronius Asellio, military tribune at Numantia in 134–3 and author of a contemporary history, advocated history over annals not because of its rhetorical sophistication, but because it discussed causes and motivations (Gel. 5.18.8–9). 71 The two most commonly cited examples are those of Licinius Macer and Valerius Antias, see Cornell, ‘The historical tradition of early Rome’ 73–9, and Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy Books 1–5 7–16. 72 Cn. Gellius is said to have written 97 books, the Gallic sack appearing no earlier than the fourteenth book and events of 216 B.C. in the thirtieth or thirty third. Licinius Macer wrote sixteen books, but probably did not cover the Second Punic War, while Valerius Antias treated an incident dated to 136 B.C. in his twenty-second of seventyfive books. Q. Aelius Tubero related at least part of the First Punic War in his ninth book, Cornell, ‘The formation of the historical tradition of early Rome’ 70–1.

The Question of Authorship

57

The portent of the sow and her piglets seen by Aeneas in the Roman Antiquities takes on an aspect distinct from that of Fabius Pictor and especially from the scene rendered so beautifully by Vergil (A. 8.81–5), whose Trojans glimpse a flash of white through the trees along the banks of the Tiber. Fabius, as reported by Diodorus Siculus (7.4–5), said that the pig escaped Aeneas’ grasp during a sacrifice and fled to a hill where it gave birth, thus fulfilling an oracle that a four-legged animal would lead him to where he was to found a city.73 While Livy omitted the portent, Dionysius (1.56) absolved the Trojan hero of any responsibility for the sow’s escape; the priests were at fault. Recognizing the oracular sign, Aeneas, so as not to startle the pig from the ‘divine path’, followed at a safe distance for twenty-four stades inland, nearly three miles, until she collapsed from fatigue and gave birth on the next day. Dionsyius did say (1.56.5) that others mentioned the birth on the second day, but this leaves the newer elements of his narrative without a definite source or date. Asserting Diodorus knew of no other versions than that of Fabius Pictor does not help here, but turning to Vergil might. After finding the white sow and piglets lying under the evergreen oaks, Aeneas (A. 8.84–85) effortlessly sacrificed the pig to Juno, lending him a dignitas absent in the version of Fabius. The hero’s pietas, so emphasized throughout the Aeneid, manifested itself in the pages of Dionysius who portrayed an Aeneas devotedly pursuing his divine guide at a respectful distance, a supreme example of his officium and dedication to the foundation of Rome. Dionysius, then, combined the oldest tradition found in Fabius and the Augustan interest in Aeneas as a model of Roman virtue, a moral concern reflected in Livy’s decision to pass over the story, doubtless on the grounds that it was more suitable for poets than historians (praef. 6). Other examples of details found in Dionysius without a known antecedent include the advice Laurentia offered to Romulus (1.87.4), the cheating of Rome’s founder in the contest with his brother Remus to determine divine favor through augury (1.86.3), and the spear which hit Horatius Cocles in the buttocks (5.24.3).74 Such elaborations are relatively few and do not really alter the essential substance of the stories.75 Tradition made 73 Cassius Hemina seems to have made the portent appear to Romulus and Remus out of which they offered a sacrifice to the Lares Grundiles, see Beck and Walter, Die Frühen Römischen Historiker 66, 257. According to Cato, the sow and thirty piglets were found at the site of Lanuvium, ibid. 166. 74 Plutarch did not include Laurentia’s advice, but the other two details do appear (Rom. 9.4–10.1 and Publ. 16.4–7). Another possible innovation of Dionysius is combining the Etruscan Mastarna and Servius Tullius into the same person, see Musti, Tendenze nella storiografia romana e greca su Roma arcaica 26–8. 75 Cf. Cornell, ‘The formation of the historical tradition of early Rome’ 86, and

58

Chapter 2: Outrage and Inventio

Faustulus’ wife the mother of the twins, had Remus see birds flying before Romulus, and Horatius subjected to the blows of the Etruscans (Livy 2.10.11 and V. Max. 3.2.1 said he emerged from the Tiber unscathed). At the same time, the alterations may be read as part of a strategy to corrrect, highlight, or reinforce the accounts of one’s predecessors. What all of this evidence suggests is that the annalists were busily engaged in revising well-known stories involving famous incidents and famous people from Roman history, not fabricating narratives around two Tarentines of low status and reprehensible conduct. If I am right and Dionysius created the demagogue, Philonides, and Meton, my goal is not to discredit him as an historian, quite the opposite. Rather than feel discouraged at the absence of evidence available to an Augustan author on these topics, we should feel encouraged at the lengths to which he went to present a creditable narrative not elaborated ex nihilo or even from contemporary experience.76 Dionysius faced a daunting task given the amount of information available from histories which reported Pyrrhus’ involvement in the war. We have seen how inventio allowed him to supplement the evidence provided by Polybius and others, and thus to provide a more developed narrative for the period before the Epirote’s arrival. While he did not conduct research in our modern sense of the word, Dionysius did rely upon Greek literature and an impressive knowledge of erudite ‘commonplaces’ about Tarentines to fabricate a verisimilitudinous exornatio. The often dense and multi-faceted references create a richer, and, paradoxically, more convincing experience historically for those who can catch them and it was his work, not that of Livy, which influenced subsequent accounts of these events.77 We will have to turn to the work of later historiographers in order Wiseman, Roman Drama and Roman History 75–89, who provides other examples where Dionysius differs from other Roman authors, in some cases with clear sources. 76 Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography 113, has offered five reasons historians would write non-contemporary history. The second is particularly relevant here: ‘The historian will argue that previous works are not complete, and therefore the entire history is not known’. 77 J. E. Phillips, ANRW 30.2 (1982) 1038–9, reports a number of studies comparing the work of Livy and Dionysius. Notably, N. Erb’s 1963 Zürich dissertation, Kriegsursachen und Kriegsschuld in der ersten Pentade des T. Livius, found that ‘Dionysius rather monotonously makes clear whose is the responsibility for war in each case, while Livy goes into more elaborate detail in some early cases, setting out his views on the moral position of each side, and then leaves the reader to infer similar situations and similar moral judgments in the later instances’. W. Pabst, in a 1969 Innsbruck dissertation, Quellenkritische Studien zur inneren römischen Geschichte der älteren Zeit bei T. Livius und Dionys von Halikarnass, argued that while Livy and Dionysius drew upon the same sources, the latter ‘made the greater number of alterations and additions, with the result that his account is much longer than Livy’s or the sources’. Interestingly, Pabst also found that Dionysius displayed ‘a pronounced democratic bias’.

The Question of Authorship

59

to test this hypothesis. Of primary importance will be to look for inconsistencies. I will operate under the premise that the greater the number, the greater the likelihood that we are encountering the practice of inventio. As A. B. Bosworth has recently observed, an ancient historian could feel free to reject items he found in the work of a predecessor, ‘because they do not have first-hand authority, and they are used to embellish the narrative’.78 Although we are obviously at a disadvantage in regard to establishing the former, the variation in subsequent authors provides a potential means to compensate.

78

Classical Antiquity 22.2 (2003) 172.

CHAPTER 3 PLUTARCH: THE CONSEQUENCES OF PYRRHOCENTRICITY No Tarentine ever merited treatment as the main subject in one of the Parallel Lives. Nevertheless, Plutarch did talk about them as a group in his Pyrrhus on occasion. For example, they were unhappy at having mercenaries garrisoned in their polis once the war against Rome was under way (Pyrrh. 22.3). Meton’s warning that their life of luxury would end came true, no surprise since his likely creator lived so long after the events in question. His story proves the one exception to the generalized image Plutarch provides.1 The omission of the naval engagement and the Philonides episode ought to lead us to ask why these did not appear in the narrative. Plutarch’s focus on Pyrrhus might be the reason, but the possibility also exists that he recognized the exaedificatio of Dionysius.2 In his research, Plutarch had the benefit of access to, among others, the histories of Hieronymus of Cardia and Dionysius, both of whom he cited for the battles of Heraclea (17.4) and Ausculum (21.9). Notably, the latter more or less doubled the number of dead in each battle.3 The engagement at Ausculum The names of individuals are not that common in the Pyrrhus and tend to be those of men of substance. For example, Cineas (14, 15, 18.3, etc.); Pyrrhus’ son Ptolemy (6.1, 28.1, etc.); Leonnatus the Macedonian (16.8); Oplax, the leader of the Frentanians (16.10, Dionysius 19.12 calls him O j blavko" and additionally Ouvlsivnio", Florus (Epit. 1.13.7) gives the name Obsidius); Megacles, one of Pyrrhus’ companions killed by Dexoos (17.1–2); two important Syracusans, Thoenon and Sosistratus (23.4); Ameinias general of the Phocians (29.6), two leading men of Argos, Aristeas and Aristippus (30.1), the Spartans Acrotatus (28.2–3), his girlfriend Chilonis (28.3), Phyllius (28.4), the king Areus (29.6, 30.2) and Eualcus (30); the Romans Valerius Laevinus (16.3; 18.1), Gaius Fabricius Luscinus (18.1; 20.2–4, 21), Appius Claudius Caecus (18.3, 5; 19.5), Quintus Aemilius (21), and Manius Curius Dentatus (25) find explicit mention in the text. Many of these come from battle contexts. Some individuals mentioned, like the Argive wo-man who actually killed Pyrrhus with a roof tile in defense of her son (34), were not named. 2 C. B. R. Pelling, ‘Plutarch and Roman Politics’ in Past Perspectives (1986), edd. I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, 159, provides examples of Plutarch’s lack of ‘any interest in describing historical background’. His work will be of little help then in reconstructing what a Timaeus or Hieronymus wrote. 3 Lévêque, Pyrrhos 328, thinks that Dionysius reports a Roman annalist who wanted 1

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

61

he said lasted only one day while Plutarch complained that in reality it took two (21.9). Dionyius’ tendency to alter the facts, then, was well known to Plutarch. This might better explain why his account reflects some of the ideas of Polybius at first in so far as it concerned the events under discussion. Like the Megalopolitan, Plutarch did not relate how the Bellum Tarentinum actually began. Instead, he stated (Pyrrh. 13.2) that the Romans and Tarentines were already at war, but one quickly learns it was hardly an epic struggle: Ê ÊR J wmai`oi Tarantivnoi" ejpolevmoun: oiJ de; mhvte fevrein to;n povlemon dunavmenoi mhvte qevsqai qrasuvthti kai; mocqhriva/ dhmagwgw`n, ejbouleuvonto poiei`sqai Puvrron hJgemovna kai; kalei`n ejpi; to;n povlemon wJ" scolh;n a[gonta pleivsthn tw`n basilevwn kai; strathgo;n o[nta deinovtaton. The Romans were at war with the Tarentines. The latter were neither able to prosecute the war nor to settle it because of the rashness and depravity of the demagogues. They decided to make Pyrrhus their leader and to call him to the war since he was the king most at leisure at the time and was an awe-inspiring general.

Polybius said the Tarentines were arrogant in general and licentious on at least one occasion. Plutarch too depicted the southern Italian Greeks in an unflattering way, but through more elaboration and implication. Immediately, we see the Tarentines suffered from inactivity or inability to take action, thanks to the participle (dunavmenoi) and the negation of the two infinitives (fevrein, qevsqai). In a way, the dêmos was held static, powerless, caught between its own weakness and the negative influence of demagogues. The figures of real action were the Romans and Pyrrhus, between whose names the Tarentines are ‘trapped’. These two would prosecute the war and fight the notable battles.4 Although Plutarch observed that Pyrrhus happened to be at leisure (scolh;n a[gonta), this was but a temporary state. Like his alleged ancestor Achilles, the Epirote king could not abide being inactive, needing to cause suffering or to suffer himself (13.1).5 The Tarentines clearly needed direction and wanted to make him their leader (ejbouleuvonto poiei`sqai Puvrron hJgemovna) rather than simply callto make the Roman defeat less humiliating by increasing the number of opponents killed. However, the numbers are more or less doubled for both sides, not just the forces of Pyrrhus. 4 For the battle of Heraclea, Plutarch (17.5) says Pyrrhus was pleased to have defeated the Romans with only his troops and the Tarentines. During the engagement at Ausculum (21.5–10), they receive no specific mention at all nor for Beneventum (25), although it must be said that the treatments of both are brief. In any event, the Tarentines are relegated to a supporting role in all three battles. 5 Franke, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 468, is critical of this depiction implying the key to Pyrrhus’ nature was his opportunism.

62

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

ing upon him for help in the war as in Dionysius. Several chapters later, Pyrrhus (16.2) confirmed Plutarch’s analysis when he saw (oJrw`n) that the multitude without strong compulsion were capable of neither saving themselves, nor saving others (oJrw`n to; plh`qo" a[neu megavlh" ajnavgkh" mhvt e swvzesqai dunavmenon mhvte swvzein). As with Dionysius’ use of focalization, we are invited to gaze upon the Tarentines from an outsider’s disapproving perspective, here that of the Epirote. All the Tarentines wanted was to stay at home and enjoy their baths and symposia, leading Pyrrhus to close the gymnasia and to put a stop to their revelry. These familiar anti-democratic sentiments along with the focus on domestic affairs at Taras which did not strictly concern the Romans, much like in the Meton episode, have been thought to be those of a Tarentine aristocrat whose identity is lost to us.6 The phrase about the boldness and licentiousness of the demagogues (qrasuvthti kai; mocqhriva/ dhmagwgw`n), however, recalls Aristotle’s treatment of them (Pol. 1304b22), alluded to by the language of Dionysius (19.5), and need not be the testimony of an individual present to witness these events. In fact, by the Augustan age, Dionysius was not the only author to perpetuate negative stereotypes about the Tarentines for the use of later authors. Strabo (6.3.4), with embellishment on the testimony of Theopompus, reported that ‘their luxury later increased due to prosperity so that the Tarentines had more city-wide festivals than days in the year’ (ejxivscuse d j hJ u{steron trufh; dia; th;n eujdaimonivan, w{ste ta;" pandhvmou" eJorta;" pleivou" a[gesqai kat j e[to" par j aujtoi`" h] ta;" hJmevra").7 Plutarch must have known about this kind of reputation too. His criticism (Pyrrh. 16.2) followed that of Strabo, who, like Polybius (8.24), commented on the eujdaimoniva of the southern Greek polis which allowed its inhabitants the resources to hire mercenaries to fight on their behalf. Because of this prosperity, Plutarch implied that they acquired the defects of lethargy and laziness, which, in the progress of the anacyclosis, eventually contributed to the city’s downfall. Luxurious living was what Dionysius’ Meton wanted to preserve, oblivious of the larger consequences. Perhaps because of this, the later version was not the same. When we meet Plutarch’s Meton (Pyrrh. 13.3–5), the anti-war group has become specific. Older and pointedly sensible citizens (tw`n de; presbutevrwn kai; nou`n ejcovntwn politw`n), notably lacking in Dionysius’ account, opposed the plan to summon Pyrrhus and were losing out. Some of them resistant to the idea (sc. of hiring a leader) were driven out by the 6 Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 22, and Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 2 101. 7 Another possibility is that the elaborations were those of Timaeus, see Urso, TXS 147.

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

63

noise and violence of the pro-war party (oiJ me;n a[ntikru" ejnistavmenoi pro;" th;n gnwvmhn ejxevpipton uJpo; kraugh`" kai; biva" tw`n polemopoiw`n). The rest, observing the intimidation, left the assembly (oiJ de; tau`ta oJrw`nte" ajpevleipon ta;" ejkklhsiva"), seeing (ojrw`nte") that their cause was lost. Pyrrhus was not the only one with powers of observation, and the use of the participle invites us to bring ours to bear as well. One man remained, Meton, not merely ‘a certain Tarentine’ as in Dionysius, but now an upstanding individual (ei|" dev ti" ajnh;r ejpieikhv", Mevtwn o[noma), and thus worthy of inclusion in an historical work. The number one, ei|", and the dev indicate that he was the last such man remaining in the theatre since the others had just left. Dionysius served as a principal source, but this need not mean Plutarch believed every word he read or that he was only looking at the text of the Halicarnassan. E j pieikhv" (upstanding) has an interesting resonance with Aristotle’s Poetics (1452b), in which the adjective functions as the antithesis to mocqeirov" (depraved), the word Plutarch has just used in criticizing the demagogues of Taras. While it is impossible to know if he had this particular work in mind, the two words lead at least this reader to consider Aristotle’s judgment that a good tragedy did not feature a reputable man whose fortunes turned from good to bad nor bad people who suddenly prospered. The close occurrence of ejpieikhv" and mocqeirov" in the Pyrrhus functions well dramatically and politically, but by Aristotle’s definition this was not a good tragedy thanks to the characterization of our protagonists. In fact, it was not even good enough for the stage. Plutarch avoided the word ‘theatre’ for reasons which will become increasingly clear. In a way, he has changed the scene as we are now in an assembly. The mention of the impending decision concerning a public decree on the day in question and the seated dêmos leaves little room for speculation about the occasion or location (th`" hJmevra" ejkeivnh" ejn h| to; dovgma kurou`n e[mellon ejnstavsh" kai; tou` dhvmou kaqezomevnou). However, the characters prepared for their roles in much the same way as in Dionysius. Once again the spectators had taken their seats when Meton appeared in costume. Apparently his prop department outfitted him with the symbols of a symposiast, since he miraculously sported a garland showing wear from the night before and carried a torch (labwvn stevfanon tw`n eJwvlwn kai; lampavdion) to encourage the idea that he was drunk (w[sper oiJ mequvonte"). The flute-girl led him into the assembly (aujlhtrivdo" uJfhgoumevnh" aujtw/ pro;" th;n ejkklhsivan), a neat trick since Plutarch never said he left the theatre.8 We do not learn the flute-girl’s status or if she was playing a tune as It is possible that Meton did not initially attend the assembly, but that calls his dedication to Taras, and thus his reputation for being upstanding, into question. Perhaps, Plutarch did not smooth over the seams here as a means of tipping off his audience to the inventio. 8

64

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

in Dionysius. Plutarch dropped the prefix of perilambavnw because this Meton bore the accoutrements of the reveller rather than bringing along the slave. The emphasis fell on the man’s comic performance qua merry-maker (ejkwvmazen), instead of on his arrival as in the earlier version (parh`n). We must remember, however, that this Meton was ejpieikhv". The contrast between our upstanding citizen and the rest of the democrats of Taras becomes clear in the next clause: ‘whatever some saw they applauded, since in a mob democracy has no order. Others laughed. No one stopped him’ (oi|a de; ejn o[clw/ dhmokrativa" kovsmon oujk ejcouvsh" oiJ me;n ejkrovtoun ijdovnte", oij de; ejgevlwn, ejkwvlue de; oujdeiv"). Plutarch’s antidemocratic tone peaks here by expressing his disgust at the idea that no one tried to stop a drunk from entering the assembly, no matter how inappropriate his appearance and behavior. Quite the contrary, this was the last thing on their minds, reflected by the order of the three finite verbs (ejkrovtoun, ejgevlwn, ejkwvlue). Some of the disorderly rabble clapped when they saw him, since the democratic masses knew no proper conduct. Others laughed. Even worse, they called for the flute-girl to play a tune and, for Meton to sing, although not to dance (ajlla; kai; to; guvnaion aujlei`n kajkei`non a[/dein ejkevleuon). Right in front of everyone, Plutarch’s readers included, Meton advanced and seemed about to break out in song (eij" mevson proelqovnta: kai; tou`to poihvswn ejpivdoxo" h\n). We see why Plutarch deliberately omitted the word ‘theatre’. He sought to arouse the indignation of his audience by removing the ambiguity of place and by stressing the incongruity of what was happening. A theatre served a number of purposes for a Greek polis. The assembly, however, was the locus for serious discussion only, a point completely lost on the Tarentines, easily diverted by the opportunity for entertainment. Since they were quite clearly depraved (mocqeiroiv), the anticipation of a song led to silence (genomevnh" de; siwph`") and Meton had the chance to deliver his message. The speech, however, recalls not just Dionyius’ Meton story, but also that of the Philonides episode thanks to the intratextuality of the original, much as the anti-democratic sentiments reflect all three passages in Dionysius. The first words of Plutarch’s Meton, ‘Men of Taras’ ( A [ ndre" Taranti`noi), were the same Postumius used to address the crowd, whereas the first Meton addressed ‘citizens’ ( A [ ndre" … poli`tai). More ambiguous in reference is the admonition to allow people to make sport and celebrate the kômos as long as possible (kalw`" poiei`t e paivzein kai; kwmavzein, e{w" e[xesti, toi`" boulomevnoi" mh; fqonou`nte"), which Plutarch borrowed from both episodes. With these words Meton really got in character. There is a play in the syntax which at first makes it sound like he encouraged everyone to enjoy themselves while they could (‘You do well to joke and revel as long as possible’). The last four words, however, reveal that he did not

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

65

intend everyone to spend their time at parties. His message was not to make merry as long as possible, but rather not to begrudge symposia to those who wished to hold them (toi`" boulomevnoi" mh; fqonou`nte"). This Meton was indeed upstanding in his abstemiousness, but his tolerance meant that he possessed insufficient gravitas and auctoritas to furnish a model others would emulate, presaging his ultimate failure. He told the Tarentines that if they were wise (eja;n de; swfronh`t e), a limited possibility we realize, they would enjoy their freedom while they had it (kai; pavnte" ajpolauvsete e[ti th`" ejleuqeriva"). Dionysius had pointed out the Tarentines’ lack of wisdom at the beginning of his Philonides story, an idea implied by the first Meton when he warned his fellow citizens about losing their freedom. Rather than assume that we see evidence of a different source, I would argue that Plutarch has reworked what he found in the passage of the Roman Antiquities. The wise Tarentines should have recognized that their fortunes would change and they would have different lives with Pyrrhus’ arrival (wJ" e{tera pravgmata kai; bivon kai; divaitan e{xonte" o[tan Puvrro" eij" th;n povlin paragevnhtai). Luxury became just having life (bivon) and a mode of living (divaitan), quite a transformation. Meton’s words proved very persuasive, more so than in Dionysius, winning over many of the Tarentines, and were acknowledged as well spoken by the murmurs of the assembly (tau`ta rJhqevnta tou;" pollou;" e[peise tw`n Tarantivnwn, kai; qrou`" dievdrame th`" ejkklhsiva" wJ" eu\ legomevnwn). Just as the other Tarentines seemed on the point of adhering to his recommendations, not exactly a sign of their good judgment, the party fearing the Romans, the demagogues one can infer, intervened (oiJ de; tou;" RJ wmaivou" dediovte", mh; genomevnh" eijrhvnh" ejkdoqw`s i …). Dionysius portrayed a polis which decided to summon help because of its difficult circumstances. Here, a group actually feared Rome and the consequences of peace, a fascinating contrast. These anti-Roman Tarentines did not resemble the Achilles-like Pyrrhus who craved action. Nor were they true to their Spartan lineage, since they were not prepared for war. Rather, Plutarch extended the initial bilingual pun on Meton, via the clause of fearing, to a group too thick to appreciate the benefits of the pax Romana.9 Such a perspective was much better suited to a citizen of the Empire than to a Roman annalist of the early to mid-first century B.C. Plutarch’s choice of verb also merits comment. He did not opt for a form of paradivdwmi or prodivdwmi, words for surrender This accords nicely with Pyrrhus’ later observation (16.5) that the Romans were not average barbarians, ‘Tavxi" mevn’, ei\pe, ‘w\ Megavklei", au{th tw`n barbavrwn ouj bavrbaro", to; de; e[rgon eijsovmeqa’. (‘Megacles’, he said, ‘While that formation of the barbarians is not barbaric, we will know by its actions’). See Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 16. 9

66

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

which connote betrayal. Instead, he selected ejkdivdwmi which could imply admitting a wrong or giving over to the authority of someone else, an appropriate meaning here.10 The Tarentines who feared the Romans decided to resist, but would not do so themselves. They quickly resolved to summon help (Pyrrh. 13.12). In the meantime, they had to deal with Meton. In an interesting twist, the anti-Roman faction suddenly condemned Meton’s presence only because it suited their ulterior motives (tovn te dh`mon ejloidovroun eij fevrei prav/w" ejpikwmazovmeno" ou{tw" ajselgw`" kai; paroinouvmeno"). In keeping with the anti-democratic tone Plutarch set earlier in the passage, they reproached (ejloidovroun) the dêmos for the collective permissiveness in suffering the visit of someone cavorting so licentiously AND who was drunk (eij fevrei prav/w" ejpikwmazovmeno" ou{tw" ajselgw`" kai; paroinouvmeno"), precisely what Dionysius’ Postumius expected and did not meet. What is more, they did so in words which suited Philonides more than Meton or the members of the assembly, none of whom were actually intoxicated. A j selgw`" takes us back to Polybius and Aristotle, while paroinouvmeno" taps into the old stereotype of drunkenness used so effectively by Dionysius. The final reference to the Philonides episode comes in the choice of main verb for the expulsion of Meton (tovn te Mevtwna sustrafevnte" ejxevbalon). The aorist tense lets us know that the crowd completed the action. Dionysius, on the other hand, used a conative imperfect (ejxevballon) of the same verb for the intended ejection of Postumius, while his Meton was actually thrown out on his head (kata; kefalh`" ejxwqou`s in).11 Without the ambassador’s speech, there was no need for comic parody. Dionsyius had those responsible for all the ills that Taras would suffer grab their unfortunate fellow citizen, then toss him out (oiJ tw`n kakw`n ai[t ioi sullabovnte" aujto;n). The change in Plutarch from sullabovnte" to sustrafevnte" was no accident. This participle was used variously, of a whirlwind (A. Fr. 195; Ar. Lys. 975), of animals gathering themselves together to pounce (Pl. R. 336b), and, as appropriate here, of soldiers forming up (e.g. Hdt. 4.136, 9.18, etc.). When the Tarentines collected themselves for an attack, it was against a lone individual they perceived as a drunkard, not much of a threat. Through the military associations of sustrafevnte", Plutarch implied that there was little hope for them if they ever faced an opponent like a Roman legion, an imminent prospect given the prevailing opinion in the assembly. 10

See LSJ, paradivdwmi § I.2, prodivdwmi § II, and ejkdivdwmi.

11 It is this sort of intertextuality about which Rhodes, Histos 2 (1998) www.dur.ac.uk/

Classics/histos/1998/rhodes.html, professes his doubts. Yet the kinds of changes we see are not unlike those observed, for example, by Bosworth, Classical Antiquity 22.2 (2003) 172–5, in Livy’s use of Polybius.

Chapter 3: Plutarch: The Consequences of Pyrrhocentricity

67

The Meton story demonstrates how Plutarch detected as well as practiced inventio and how Dionysius provided him with essential evidence as he recast the narrative of the Tarentine War’s beginning. We have also seen words and phrases which recall Aristotle, Polybius, Theopompus, Plato, Clearchus of Soli, and Strabo in perpetuating stereotypes about Tarentines. These authors Plutarch does not name, but he does cite Dionysius, Hieronymus, Phylarchus (27.8), and Euripides (14.2) at various points in the life of Pyrrhus. In addition, he quotes Homer, but there was no need for a citation (13.2). We see then the broad reading of Plutarch as well as that expected of his audience, just as we did for Dionysius.12 However, by the late first century A.D., Plutarch had access to a number of Latin as well as Greek sources which he could have consulted. If we wish to demonstrate that the innovations in the texts of both Dionysius and Plutarch were truly theirs, and not the influence of someone else, we must investigate what other authors, such as Livy, had to say.

J. P. V. D. Balsdon, Romans and Aliens (1979) 126, wrote how Plutarch’s work ‘is littered indiscriminately with references to Greek and Roman history; the reader was expected to know quite a lot about the elder and younger Africanus, about Marius, Sulla, Pompey and the younger Cato’. This does not address which authors were essential for acquiring such a knowledge. For example, Livy (39.43.1) criticizes Valerius Antias for not read-ing Cato or Polybius. One would like to know how he arrived at such a conclusion. 12

CHAPTER 4 THE LIVIAN TRADITION I: THE PERIOCHAE, VALERIUS MAXIMUS, AND FLORUS Since the books of Livy’s second decade are no longer extant, scholars in the past have often looked to the works of Valerius Maximus, Florus, Appian, Eutropius, and Orosius, too often assuming that Livy was the primary and sole influence concerning the Tarentine War. It is important to remember that the text of Dionysius was also available and that at least ‘Appian and Cassius Dio used him extensively’.1 By looking at passages of all of the aforementioned authors, we can triangulate backward to obtain an idea of what one would have found in Livy. Admittedly, this has been done all along, but without sufficient attention paid to the influence of Dionysius or to the inventio that authors practiced themselves. In this chapter, after a preliminary consideration of the evidence for Livy’s version of events, we will turn to Valerius Maximus and Florus to assess the likely influence of the Patavian and Dionysius on their accounts. THE PERIOCHAE OF LIVY One place, albeit a problematic one, to begin any attempt to come to grips with the substance of Livy’s lost work is the Periochae. These summaries of Livy’s 142 books do not allow for a very detailed reconstruction of the content of any one. The Periochae are also known to reveal the influence of other authors and are late in date, the fourth century A.D. Nevertheless, what they say sheds some light on the progression of Livy’s narrative of the Tarentine/Pyrrhic War, not without implications, and as such they merit some investigation. His account of the conflict began in Book Twelve and ended with the surrender of Taras at the beginning of Book Fifteen. Books Thirteen and Fourteen in particular are devoted to narrating the course of the war, Pyrrhus’ name recurring fairly often. Book Twelve is another matter. Within its pages, one would have found a declaration of war against the tribe of Gauls known as the Senones who had killed Roman ambassadors. 1

Usher, ANRW 30.1 (1982) 837.

The Periochae of Livy

69

In a subsequent battle, the praetor L. Caecilius was killed.2 Next came the naval battle in 282, followed by the arrival of senatorial legates. War was declared against the Tarentines while the Romans also had problems versus the Samnites, Lucanians, Bruttians, and Etruscans whom they defeated through the leadership of many generals (compluribus ducibus).3 This report is particularly illuminating regarding Plutarch’s narrative. With the Romans engaged against so many opponents to the north and west of Taras, the Tarentines appear to have waited until the legions defeated their foes. When the Romans were successful, perhaps something of a surprise given the number they faced, only then did they call to Pyrrhus for help, as the Periocha makes clear. The book concluded with the arrival of a Campanian legion at Rhegion under the command of Decius Iubellius and the slaughter of the inhabitants. In other words, the Tarentines were hardly the principal focus. 2 This chronology is extremely problematic in conjunction with the end of the Periocha of Book Eleven. After mentioning the political activities and death of the ‘dictator’ Q. Hortensius who died in that magistracy, sometime prior to 285 B.C., the last sentence appears to relate events of at least three to five years later and reads that the eleventh book ‘contains additional campaigns against the Volsinii, likewise versus the Lucanians, against whom it was decided to bring help to the people of Thurii’ (res praeterea contra Vulsinienses gestas continet, item adversus Lucanos, contra quos auxilium Thurinis ferre placuerat). Pighius’ emendation Thurinis, ‘the people of Thurii’, for tyrrhenis in the ninth-century Palatinus Latinus 894 manuscript (N) and the equally hopeless tyrrinis in the twelfth-century Parisinus 7701 (P), while making sense of the immediate context – the Romans did indeed aid Thurii against the Lucanians – leads to a thornier problem. M’. Curius Dentatus celebrated an ovation over the Lucanians in 289, but there is no connection with Thurii, Harris, WIRR 257. The campaigns of C. Fabricius Luscinus against the Lucanians, Bruttians, and Samnites, which resulted in a triumph, are dated to 282, several years after Caecilius, the consul, not the praetor, was killed at Arretium by the Senones. For the sources, see M. R. Torelli, Rerum Romanarum Fontes (1978) [henceforth RRF] 78–90. Attributing the praetorship rather than the consulate to Caecilius appears to derive from ‘a mistaken translation of strathgo;" in (say) Polybius or Fabius Pictor as “praetor”’, W. V. Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria (1971) 81, and Polybius did use strathgo;" for consul, Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polbyius vol. 1 188. Roman triumphs over the Volsinii and Vulci are recorded for the consulship of Ti. Coruncanius in 280 B.C., Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria 82–4, the previous one reported over the Volsinii having been fourteen years earlier, that of M. Atilius Regulus, Cornell, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 363. Other difficulties here include the death of Caecilius before those of the legates sent to the Senones and the failure to note the Roman victory at Lake Vadimon. In light of the textual corruption and confusion the emendation brings to the order of events, it is preferable, in my view, to follow the testimony of Polybius as much as possible, see further below pp. 107–11. 3 Dionysius (19.6.2) mentioned concern about these opponents on the part of L. Aemilius Barbula, consul of 281. This appears to lump together the campaigns fought from 284 until the arrival of Pyrrhus.

70

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

As for what pertains to events at Taras, the summary of Book Twelve preserves the following: cum a Tarentinis classis Romana direpta esset, IIviro, qui praeerat classi, occiso, legati ad eos a senatu, ut de his iniuriis quererentur, missi pulsati sunt. ob id bellum his indictum est. When a Roman fleet had been plundered by the Tarentines and the duumvir who had been in command was killed, the ambassadors, sent to the Tarentines by the senate to make complaints concerning these damages, were expelled. On account of this, war was declared on them.

Livy described the attack on the Roman squadron, although where this occurred, under what circumstances, or in how much detail it is not said. The death of the commanding duumvir leaves little doubt that the outcome of the naval engagement was hardly favorable to the Romans. As we know, their embassy arrived subsequently to complain about the injuries suffered by their tiny navy. The Tarentines, however, were apparently uninterested in hearing the complaints, throwing the legates out of the city. This bit of information catches our interest in light of the ajsevlgeian seen in the texts of Polybius and Dionysius. Here the only injuries the Romans complained about were the death of the duumvir and whatever happened to their ships and men with no mention of the treatment of their ambassadors. It is possible that the Periocha fails utterly to convey what was a lively account in the pages of Livy which would have presented us with our three Tarentines, much like what we have seen in Dionysius and to a lesser extent in Plutarch. The synopsis also may not mention the scatalogical insult on moral grounds.4 When dealing with summaries, one must be cautious in basing arguments on such minimal text.5 However, much like the attack on Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) Niese, Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten vol. 2 and Franke, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 457, did not mention Philonides, presumably in part because they intended their work for a polite audience. An analogy may be found in the way the Cynic Diogenes’ behavior was treated both in antiquity and in modern scholarship. Krueger, ‘The Bawdy and Society’ 229, observes a squeamishness in twentieth-century scholarship: ‘The conception of an obscenity-free Cynicism, largely independent of the traditions of the shameless Diogenes, has proven particularly popular among scholars exploring affinities between Cynicism and the origins of Christianity’. M. Griffin, ‘Cynicism and the Romans: Attraction and Repulsion’ in The Cynics. The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and its Legacy (1996), edd. R. B. Branham and M.-O. Goulet-Cazé, 190–204, notes Roman prudishness about obscene language. 5 For example, the summary of Book Eight does not mention Alexander of Epirus, although Livy did on three separate occasions (8.3.6–7, 17.9, 24.4) and said that he made peace with Rome (8.17.9). Cf. Bravo and Griffin, Athenaeum 66 (1988) 516, which contains further references. On the reliability of epitomes, see P. A. Brunt, CQ n.s. 30 (1980) 487–94, who is quite critical of the Periochae and their chronological errors, 488. 4

The Periochae of Livy

71

the squadron and the death of its commander, the expulsion of the Roman ambassadors constitutes an ajsevlgeian in and of itself.6 The Tarentines were so arrogant they did not bother to hear what message the legates brought to them from Rome and drove them out of their city. In a way, both versions present an outrage of some sort; the question then is how it took place. My own answer would be that in the Periochae we have found an outline of what the Roman annalistic tradition preserved: a more or less minimal account of a naval battle, an embassy which suffered the insult of expulsion and nothing about Meton.7 For the sake of comparison, the work of another Augustan author, Pompeius Trogus, epitomized centuries later by Justin (17.3.22–18.1), mentioned nothing of these events, only the summoning of Pyrrhus.8 Justin (22.1.2–5) did, however, preserve Timaeus’ slanderous characterization of Agathocles, suggesting once again that history’s focus fell on great men.9 A very late source, the Byzantine author Zonaras (8.2) preserved not the name of Thais, Philonides, or Meton, but that of Agis, elected autokrator just prior to Pyrrhus’ arrival. This man was clearly of high status, notably ‘welldisposed to the Romans’ ( A \ gin toi`" R J wmaivoi" ejpithvdeion), and likely to have been mentioned by Pyrrhus or one of his biographers as the politician deposed at the arrival of the mercenary forces. In Books Five to Ten of his history, Livy did not often mention individuals associated with enemies of the Romans nor was there much interest in the domestic affairs of hostile cities.10 During his account of the Second Punic War, he singled out only Plutarch’s Appius Claudius Caecus (Pyrrh. 19.3) referring to the defeat suffered by the Romans at Heraclea says that Pyrrhus committed an outrage against them, u{brisen. 7 An eerie parallel to the battle in 282 is a naval engagement between the Romans and Tarentines in 210 during which the Roman commander was killed and his ship captured, others were sunk, and the rest managed to escape (Livy 26.39). For the relevant source passages, see Brauer, Taras 192–4. 8 Naturally, the same cautions about using summaries as evidence apply. Justin presented only a fifth or so of Pompeius Trogus’ original content, G. Forni and M. G. Angeli Bertinelli, ANRW 30.2 (1982) 1299. Brunt, CQ n.s. 30 (1980) 487, observed how: ‘Justin promised in the preface to his epitome of Trogus to excerpt whatever was most worth knowing and to omit what could give no pleasure or furnish no useful example’. 9 See Pearson, The Greek Historians of the West 231, and above p. 22–3 n. 6. 10 The betrayal of Palaeopolis/Neapolis to Rome was arranged by two men, Charilaus and Nymphius (8.25–26), but Livy states (8.25.9) they were of leaders of the state (principes civitatis) never mind their obvious pro-Roman leanings. During the Samnite Wars, Livy named Papius Brutulus (8.39.12–14), Gavius Pontius (9.1.2, 5.1, 10.8, 11.1, 12.3, 15.4, 15.8) and his father Herennius (9.1.2, 3.4, 3.13, 12.2, 15.4, 15.8). The Periocha for Book Eleven relates how Gavius Pontius was beheaded by the Romans after being led in triumph. Otherwise, the references are generally to ethnicities and to 6

72

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

Tarentine aristocrats, four by name, Phileas, Philemenus, Nicon, and Democrates (24.13, 25.7–11, 26.39, 27.16), all leaders in the resistance to Rome.11 The high status of those he mentioned makes the appearance of Thais, Philonides, and Meton extremely unlikely, never mind their questionable historicity given what we have seen in Dionysius and Plutarch. Nevertheless, Livy has been imagined to be the principal source for subsequent authors, particularly those who wrote in Latin. VALERIUS MAXIMUS In the case of Valerius Maximus, a supposition of this kind produces immediate controversy. His sources have been a matter of debate.12 Writing during the reign of Tiberius, Valerius concerned himself with moral exempla, naturally a subject of great interest to Livy, but also to Dionysius. One cannot forget the manner in which the latter related the visit of Postumius to Taras as a contrast in Roman gravitas and Greek levitas. Naturally, the Thais and Meton passages work the same way, but Valerius included neither the naval battle nor the debate about summoning Pyrrhus. His goal was not to compose a narrative of the war. Valerius (2.2.5) turned to the Roman embassy’s visit in 281 after a discussion of Q. Fabius Maximus, who served posterity as a shining example of the mos maiorum. He did not name the city the Romans called Tarentum, but the transition was natural enough. The story presented gravitas and severitas such as Fabius practiced and Fabius had strong associations with the place; it was he who relieved the Roman garrison besieged by Hannibal for three years. Curiously, we are not told the names of the Roman legates whose ‘amazing steadfastness’ deserved mention (offerunt se mirificae constantiae viri). We should already know of the involvement of at the citizen bodies of various towns. Cf. Livy’s discussion (8.22) of the Neapolitans, a people more vigorous in speech than in action, and to whom the fetials were sent to demand reparations. 11 Livy omits the story of a banquet reported by Polybius (8.27–8) at which Nicon, Tragiscus, and the Tarentines got the Roman garrison commander Livius drunk in order to let Hannibal into the city. Cf. Brauer, Taras 188. 12 W. M. Bloomer, Valerius Maximus and the Rhetoric of the New Nobility (1992); R. Combès, Valère Maxime. Faits et dits mémorables vol. 1 (1995) 20–3; and D. R. Shackleton Bailey, Valerius Maximus. Memorable Doings and Sayings (2000) 1–4, 9– 10. Valerius is not mentioned by Hoffmann. With regard to events in the theatre of Taras, Kaimio, Romans and the Greek Language 96, acknowledges the possibility that Valerius drew upon Livy, but also does not rule out the latter’s own practice of inventio. Following Hoffmann, he allows that Dionyius might have followed a source independent of the annalistic tradition.

Valerius Maximus

73

least L. Postumius Megellus from our prior reading. Not mentioning identities spared Postumius and his descendants the humiliation of being associated with what was to happen. Still, the reasons for Valerius’ silence merit further thought. There is the possibility that no records existed. Plutarch did not report the embassy. The inclusion of names might also be considered superfluous, a distraction from the emphasis on morality and the remarkable conduct of the legates. In keeping with Polybius’ outrage (th;n eij" tou;" presbeuta;" R J wmaivwn ajsevlgeian), this is the story of an insult perpetrated against the entire Roman delegation (offerunt se… viri). As the narrative continues, we learn immediately the reasons for sending the embassy, qui legati a senatu Tarentum ad res repetendas missi, cum gravissimas ibi iniurias accepissent (the legates were sent to Tarentum by the senate to demand reparations, although they (sc. the Romans) had received serious injuries there). Valerius omitted any reference to the Romans speaking in Greek, perhaps an indication that only Dionysius had said this before.13 As with the names of the legates, Valerius did not describe the nature or extent of the iniurias, stating only that they were gravissimas. We should presumably know that they resulted from a naval battle or know where to look for the information. Both Livy and Dionysius would have been obvious choices. The phrase legati a senatu coincides with the Periocha’s legati ad eos a senatu, and suggests Valerius’ use of Livy or a common source. More importantly, ad res repetendas allows an identification of the diplomatic mission the legates were carrying out and why they are nameless. The rerum repetitio, or demand of reparations, was a part of fetial procedure.14 By the early third century B.C. such a process was becoming unwieldy and impracticable, all the more to the injured Romans’ credit given the distances involved, over 500 kilometers between Taras and Rome.15 A fetial delegation included two of the college’s twenty members 13 Kaimio, Romans and the Greek Language 96. The next part of the sentences makes clear that the cum introduces a clause of concession rather than of cause. 14 The initial embassy was followed by a thirty-day waiting period, with requests granted for deliberation every ten days, at least in theory (D. H. 2.72.8). If satisfaction was not obtained, the fetials prayed to the gods for success in war, known as testatio, and on the thirty-third day, a spear was thrown into enemy territory, thus declaring war, see D. S. Potter, ‘Roman Religion: Ideas and Actions’ in Life, Death and Entertainment (1999), edd. D. S. Potter and D. M. Mattingly, 141–3, and Watson, International Law 20–30. As for the actual demands, see Harris, WIRR 167–8: ‘Though the rerum repetitio had formal similiarities to legal procedures, it was closely akin to blackmail. This is the case at least when reliable details are known. The rerum repetitiones were in a precise sense non-negotiable demands, and they were usually set at an unacceptable level. In fact it must normally have been expected that the demands would be refused’. 15 Harris, WIRR 166–70, 267–9, argues that at this time senatorial legates began to be used instead of the fetials because the three journeys which the fetials were required

74

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

and a declaration of war required multiple trips to enemy territory. With so many individuals potentially involved in such a laborious process, we should not be surprised that names were commonly omitted in historical accounts, particularly when the goal was to eliminate controversy and put the Romans clearly in the right, at least as far as the gods were concerned.16 The irony here is that Dionysius, not Livy, contains the best introduction to the fetials in our possession and we do not have enough of his text to determine how he treated the circumstances leading up to the embassy’s arrival.17 We do know what he said about their treatment at Taras and Valerius’ account is more or less in agreement. As the legates were led into the theatre in accord with Greek custom, one of our nameless Romans suffered the same fate as Postumius, only more explicitly (unus etiam urina respersus esset, in theatrum, ut est consuetudo Graeciae, introducti). The etiam serves to include the insult among the ‘serious injuries’, the casualties in men and materiel suffered in the naval engagement, while the remainder of the clause implies that this was the worst of all since we actually learn its nature. Valerius specified the offending substance (urina) which Dionysius considered too foul to name (th;n oujde; levgesqai prevpousan ajkaqarsivan), while the Roman’s assailant, whom Dionysius’ readers would know, was also unidentified. Perhaps we should infer that in the new version more than one Tarentine ‘spattered’ the ambassador who had not yet uttered a word, much less been thrown out of the theatre. While Valerius might, intentionally or not, have spared the legates any further humiliation by not including their names, that cannot have been his intent for the Tarentines. A number of plausible arguments can account for Philonides’ absence. To introduce him would have been too much of a distraction. Such a base figure merited no attention, particularly when we are interested in the shining examples set by Romans. A final prospect is that to make in order to declare war had become too burdensome. Watson concurs, International Law 55–6. Both attest the evidence of Servius who told how a soldier of Pyrrhus was constrained to buy a plot of land near the temple of Bellona. One other consideration is Dionysius’ testimony that Postumius sailed away which would imply that he had also come to Taras by ship. Ordinarily, fetials arrived by land. Part of the ritual (D. H. 2.72.6–7) involved stopping before entering enemy territory to call the gods to witness and then calling upon the first person met. This raises the question of whether the ritual could in fact be carried out when approaching by sea. 16 Oakley, Comm. 312–3. Livy mentions priests or legates by name on only three occasions (1.24.6; 3.25.6–8; 9.10.11) and in the last of these because the fetial is addressed in a speech. Dionysius’ surviving text has prevsbei" or a synonym for the five passages Oakley cites. Harris, WIRR 166, suspects ‘the procedure was probably used more often than Livy tells us’. 17 Watson, International Law 1–4.

Valerius Maximus

75

Valerius recognized that Philonides was not real, but a creation of Dionysius not found in the text of Livy or other Roman authors. He included the insult because it provided an excellent reason for not sending fetials such a long distance. It also offered an opportunity for a Roman to make a joke about the Tarentines. Although his intention was moral and serious, Valerius included an apparent word play of sorts regarding the treatment of ambassadors. Before one sees introducti, the reader has the impression that not just Tarentine, but Greek standard procedure was to spatter foreigners with urine in the theatre. Only the participle allows one to conclude that the normal protocol was in fact to bring embassies into the theatre where they could address the assembled citizens. Dionysius’ Tarentines made fun of the Romans. Valerius took the initiative and turned the tables for his audience. As for the embassy’s message, much like in Dionysius we are not told its specific content. Rather the narrative points up the ‘amazing steadfastness’ of the men who delivered the Romans’ demands which Valerius accomplished with more word play: legationem quibus acceperant verbis peregerunt, de iis quae passi erant questi non sunt, ne quid ultra ac mandatum esset loquerentur, insitusque pectoribus eorum antiqui moris respectus dolore, qui ex contumelia gravissimus sentitur, convelli non potuit. They discharged their diplomatic mission with the words they had heard, but concerning what they had suffered, they did not complain, lest they say something which was more than instructed. Reverence for ancient custom, deeply ingrained within them, could not be undermined by the pain which they felt most heavily as a result of the insult.

The sense of the first clause changes dramatically with the fourth word. The first three, legationem quibus acceperant, might lead the reader to think the content would concern ‘what the delegation sustained’ and to consider, if only momentarily, the insult from the recipient’s perspective, a response conditioned by the phrase about the original injuries suffered at the hands of the Tarentines (gravissimas ibi iniurias accepissent). The next two words, verbis peregerunt, resolve the ambiguity about the meaning of legationem, and about what was received, altering the sense of the whole to ‘they discharged their diplomatic mission with the words they had heard’. Asyndeton marks a contrast between the mission and the insult, the implication being that while the Romans accepted the former, that would not prove true of the latter. However, they said nothing about what they suffered not just because of fear that they would deviate from their sacred duty. Valerius appears to have modelled the scene in part on the famous Roman embassy to Carthage at the beginning of the Second Punic War as depicted by Livy (21.18.1–14).

76

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

Sent to the Punic capital in 218 B.C., the Roman delegation consisted of men chosen for their age and experience, M. Livius, L. Aemilius, C. Licinius, Q. Baebius, and the senior member, Q. Fabius. Upon being granted an audience with the senate, Fabius asked of the Carthaginians (21.18.3) nothing further than the one question which had been assigned to them (nihil ultra quam unum quod mandatum erat percontatus esset), language very similar to that used by Valerius. Both he and Livy shared an interest in representing the officium of the men of the Republic. In addition to stressing the sense of duty felt by admirable figures like Fabius, the embassy to the Tarentines offered Valerius the opportunity to contrast the character of Roman, Greek, and, through the additional reference, Carthaginian. The Second Punic War began formally through diplomacy which functioned as it ought. The ambassadors arrived at Carthage, inquired about Carthaginian intentions, and heard a reply. Fabius then made a fold in his toga which he said contained war and peace. The Carthaginians were to choose which one he shook out and they shouted out no less fiercely that Fabius should make the choice (haud minus ferociter daret utrum vellet, succlamatum est). When he declared war, they all answered that they accepted and that they would wage war in the same spirit with which they had accepted (accipere se omnes responderunt et quibus acciperent animis iisdem se gesturos). Thus, while they served as an honorable opponent for the Romans, the Tarentines neither treated the legates properly nor did they demonstrate any evidence of the spirit one would expect of a worthy adversary. Instead, it was Postumius and the other fetials who, like Fabius, related only their instructions, nothing further. Yet, although they had suffered something which might have caused even the ambassador to Carthage to utter some rebuke, they kept their emotions under control. The mention of pain deeply felt underscored Roman toughness, unity, and like-mindedness; the mos maiorum was too deeply ingrained within them, too much respected and a part of their fiber to allow any one of them the reply that Dionysius gave to Postumius (insitusque pectoribus eorum antiqui moris respectus dolore, qui ex contumelia gravissimus sentitur, convelli non potuit). A real Roman, in Valerius’ view, would not have complained. With that in mind, Valerius ‘corrected’ the account of Dionysius by delivering the reproach to the Tarentines not through a fetial, but rather himself as the narrator:18 finem profecto fruendarum opum, quibus ad invidiam diu abundaveras, Tarentina civitas, quaesisti: nam dum horridae virtutis in se ipsum convexum stabilimentum nitore fortunae praesentis inflata fastidiose aestimas, in praevalidum imperii nostri mucronem caeca et amens irruisti. 18 I borrow the term from R. F. Thomas, ‘Virgil’s Georgics and the Art of Reference’, HSCP 90 (1986) 171.

Valerius Maximus

77

You certainly sought an end to the enjoyment of the wealth which you had long in abundance to the envy of all, Tarentine city: For while you, puffed up by the excellence of attendant fortune, rated disdainfully the mainstay of raw courage concentrated together, you rushed blind and witless onto the mighty blade of our empire.

In penning this rebuke, Valerius doubtless relied on the general fama the Tarentines had acquired which we have seen utilized and embellished by the likes of Dionysius and Strabo during the Augustan age. At the same time, he avoided the stereotype of drunkenness and employed a few rhetorical touches of his own. The position of finem stresses the ‘quick’ end to the Tarentines’ eudaimonia brought about by the conflict with Rome, a bit of an exaggeration since the war would drag on for ten years. The rest of the sentence shows a good awareness of the polis’ wealth. Fruendarum’s four syllables invite the audience to linger on the importance of enjoying the city’s resources, much as abundaveras, or indeed the whole relative clause, reflects their extent. The position of fruendarum leaves no doubt that opum cannot be a syncopated form of opus and thus reinforces the notion of the Tarentines’ aversion to work, an idea familiar since the fourth century B.C. Interestingly, Valerius did not elaborate on what was being enjoyed. He expected the reader or listener to know. Wine and banquets leap immediately to mind. Such a favorable situation led to the envy (invidiam) of others and Valerius next punned on this word. The roots of invidia, in and video, imply that the Tarentines looked upon things in their possession that others only dreamed of. Simultaneously, with their eye toward pleasure, their polis was blind (caeca) to the fact that resistance to Rome would prove futile. They underestimated the power of virtus. Who had time for training with so many parties? Blinded by the gleam of fortune (nitore fortunae praesentis) which had attended their prosperity, the Tarentines’ inability or refusal to recognize their situation rendered them mindless, amens.19 In combination with their restricted vision and the subtle implications of drunkenness, they rushed or, maybe better, stumbled onto the empire’s sword. The Romans meanwhile would be urged to resist the Tarentines and Pyrrhus by a blind old man, Appius Claudius Caecus, the embodiment of Republican virtues. Such careful rhetorical construction, with its puns and references, must surely be the work of Valerius and not just a rephrasing of what one would have found in the pages of Livy or of anyone else. On several occasions, the text responds directly to that of Dionysius, explicating ‘the substance too foul to mention’ and correcting the delegates’ reaction. What Valerius 19

The phrase caecus et amens occurs in Cicero (Sest. 17).

78

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

passed over in silence, Postumius’ speech in Greek, the names of the legates, the iniurias suffered by the Romans, the mention of Philonides, the opes of the Tarentines, are all things the reader of Dionysius would know something about with the exception of the identities of the fetials which do not appear to have been ordinarily included. This last point has interesting implications for the Philonides episode. If we believe Dionysius, Postumius had the distinction of being the first senatorial legate to issue the rerum repetitio by travelling to the enemy’s territory, and at an advanced age no less.20 I would rather not imagine that he was included because of the A. Postumius Albinus reference and the possibility that he was still alive in 281. The significance of the occasion marks it as worthy of attention not normally accorded to fetial procedure. The Tarentines had no equivalent college of their own and one wonders how they handled the arrival of a Roman representative demanding reparations for a naval battle. Postumius’ ejection is easy enough to understand, verbal insults too, but there is no good reason to think that a Philonides actually perpetrated an insult of the kind we saw in Dionysius. Much of what Valerius relates appears to be because of its novelty to a Latin-speaking audience, the Greek custom of introducing foreign delegations into their theatres for example, or the conduct of the Roman delegation at Taras which, thanks to the treatment it received, adhered more staunchly to the mos maiorum than did the ambassadors to Carthage. When one of their number found himself spattered with urine, the very real possibility exists that only Dionysius had related this version of the story before, in Greek. Both accounts provide a practical excuse for seeking alternatives to sending fetials abroad. Whether Dionysius really created Philonides to account for this change must remain, alas, unknown. For Valerius, indeed, for any author under the influence of inventio, key motivations in creating the exaedificatio were to provide a compelling account and something worth telling because the audience would most likely not have heard it before, in terms of style and/or content. This does not necessarily mean the discovery of new facts or information through research. A similar practice is observable in the work of another author who did make extensive use of Livy. FLORUS Possibly a contemporary of Plutarch, Florus composed a more complete summary of the beginning of the conflict than Valerius. He included the 20 Alternatively he was the last fetial to begin the procedure, but this is perhaps not as likely, see above p. 73–4 n. 15.

Florus

79

first extant account of the circumstances of the naval battle but related neither personal names nor the Meton episode. After a chapter on wars against the Samnites, Etruscans, and Gauls (Epit. 1.12), the Bellum Tarentinum follows (sequitur Bellum Tarentinum) which, contrary to expectation, de-emphasizes the role of Taras throughout the conflict.21 Although the name of the war suggests that the Romans only had to contend with the eponymous foe, this belies the many opponents they faced and the many victories they won (unum quidem titulo et nomine, set victoria multiplex). We learn that all Italy, Campanians, Apulians, and Lucanians, fought beside the Greeks, along with the renowned king of Epirus, Pyrrhus (Campanos, Apulos atque Lucanos et caput belli Tarentinos, id est totam Italiam, et cum iis omnibus Pyrrhum, clarissimum Graeciae regem). Where Valerius had minimized the Tarentines’ role by making the Romans the subjects of every sentence until he addressed the Tarentina civitas directly, Florus achieved the same effect in several ways. The Tarentines were one of many Roman opponents in the accusative, one of whom, the Campani, were not mentioned by other authors.22 Florus did acknowledge the Tarentine instigation of the conflict (caput belli), but the guilty party did not hold the fascination of the ‘really famous’ (clarissimum) Pyrrhus. Even so, the war involved them all equally as if in one and the same ruin, with the result that the entirety of Italy was consumed by war at the same time and looked ahead to Roman victories overseas (una veluti ruina pariter involvit, ut eodem tempore et Italiam consummaret et transmarinos triumphos auspicaretur), beginning with the conquests of the Punic Wars. In fact, the war was not so much about the Tarentines or Pyrrhus, but about the future Roman empire. After such an introduction, with the outcome assured, Florus turned to a description of Taras. We learn of its position at one time as the hêgemôn of Calabria, Apulia, and Lucania (Tarentum, Lacedaemoniorum opus, Calabriae quondam et Apuliae totiusque Lucaniae caput). This depiction appears designed to represent the Tarentines as possessing an empire the Romans overthrew, not historical reality. Throughout the fourth century, the leader of the Italiote League fought with the Lucanians, Apulians, and Messapians, but could never be said to have led these peoples, much less the Campanians. We must wonder if Florus repeated something he read in Livy, Dionysius, one of their shared sources, or if he reached this conclusion from his own 21 For Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 13, the Periochae and Florus were the two chief sources for reconstructing the Livian account. 22 Lévêque, Pyrrhos 304, thinks that Florus multiplied the enemies of the Romans and cannot be taken seriously. He observes that Florus had a strange conception of Campania since he located Heraclea there.

80

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

reading. He described the topography of Taras in a manner suitable for the capital of an anti-Roman empire. It was noble, both in its size and in its port and walls, and amazing in its location, since its harbors sent ships everywhere, to Istria, Illyricum, Epirus, Achaia, Africa, and Sicily (cum magnitudine et muris portuque nobilis, tum mirabilis situ. quippe in ipsis Hadriani maris faucibus posita in omnis terras, Histriam, Illyricum, Epiron, Achaiam, Africam, Siciliam vela dimittit). Up to this point, Florus shows a knowledge of the city obtainable from the likes of Polybius (10.1) and Strabo (6.3.1). After mentioning the port, he observed that the city’s theatre commanded a view of the sea (inminet portui ad prospectum maris positum theatrum). Not content with the topographical description, he added that this was the source of all the city’s woes (quod quidem causa miserae civitati fuit omnium calamitatum), a natural conclusion for anyone familiar with Philonides and Meton or with Valerius Maximus’ version of events. What comes next probably represents Florus’ own innovation rather than a borrowing from Livy or some other source. He identified the theatre not only as the site of the insult to the ambassadors, but as the place from which the war really started.23 The Tarentines were celebrating a festival (ludos forte celebrant), no coincidence if we believe Strabo’s claim that these ‘solemnities’ exceeded the number of days in the year. From the theatre, once the Greeks saw the Roman fleets rowing toward the shore and sallied forth having decided they were the enemy, they mocked them without question (cum adremigantes litori Romanas classes vident, atque hostem rati emicant, sine discrimine insultant). One wonders how much of this information was in the text of Livy. Florus has provided a location for the encounter. We see no duumvir and look at the Roman arrival from the Tarentine perspective. As the Greeks perceived fleets rowing towards shore, the plural classes itself a decided exaggeration, they jumped to the conclusion that the Romans were enemies. Without any attempt to determine if this assumption was correct, they attacked. In combination with sine discrimine, insultant could apply to the treatment of Postumius in Dionysius. The Tarentines were consistent in both texts, or rather they were not. Florus highlighted their irrationality as he blamed them for beginning the war. 23 The location of the theatre is disputed and remains an open question, E. M. De Juliis, Taranto (2000) 77–9. Cf. Taplin, Comic Angels 14. E. Lippolis, Fra Taranto e Roma (1997) 138–9, prefers a site overlooking the Mar Piccolo, the inner harbor. This has interesting ramifications for the naval battle. Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War 24, accepts De Sanctis’ argument that the battle must have taken place in the outer harbor or Mar Grande. It is hard to imagine the Tarentines could have successfully manned their ships in time for an engagement to take place had the Romans sailed into the inner harbor, Wuilleumier, Tarente 248–9.

Florus

81

The Greeks’ mockery manifested itself in qui enim aut unde Romani? (Who were the Romans and where were they from?), rhetorical questions expressing indignation at Roman presumptuousness. Interrogatives of this kind were expected in Homeric meetings.24 Florus has evoked the world of epic, the kind of thing that drew the rebuke of his contemporary Lucian (Hist. Conscr. 8). Last seen in the text of Dionysius, references of this sort are also not unfamiliar from Livy. The latter (1.1.5–11) offered two versions (duplex … fama) of Aeneas’ arrival in Italy. One was violent with the Trojans fighting the hostile inhabitants. In the other (1.1.8), Latinus greeted Aeneas by asking, qui mortales essent, unde aut quo casu profecti domo quidve quaerentes in agrum Laurentem exissent (Who on earth are you? Where are you from or why did you set out from your home? What do you seek now that you have arrived in the fields of Laurentium?). The questions recall examples found in the Odyssey, while the inclusion of such a reference is perfectly in keeping with the nature of the episode, an epic conflict between Greek and Trojan/Roman.25 However, Homer did not treat Aeneas’ arrival in Italy, and Latinus’ queries in Livy are more elaborate than the simple wording of Florus. The reference could very well be to another famous author. Vergil provided several well-known encounters between Trojans and Greeks. The first of these, Sinon’s capture by the Trojans, was not the sort of occasion for such questions. The Greek deceived the Dardanians by bemoaning his fate, wondering aloud where he might find a home. Although in the position of stranger or guest, he subverted the convention of greetings by asking the questions first (A. 2.69–72). In the second instance, the meeting between Pallas and Aeneas, we find marked similarities to Florus’ phrasing. As the Trojan ships sailed up the Tiber approaching Pallanteum, Pallas espied them and called out (A. 8.112) qui genus? unde domo? The situation is analogous to the Roman arrival at Taras with one notable exception. Pallas remembered to ask the intentions of the strangers he met, pacemne huc fertis an arma?, something the Tarentines were apparently too ill-mannered to do.26 Florus expressed his indignation at Nestor calls out to Telemachus and Athene (Od. 3.69–74). Diomedes inquires after Glaukos’ identity at Il. 6.123–43. Off the battlefield, strangers could expect to be offered food and drink before being asked their name and the purpose of their visit. On the conventions of such meetings, see A. Webber, TAPA 119 (1989) 1–13. The earliest historiographical model, for which I owe thanks to John Marincola, comes from Herodotus (5.105) when Darius asked who the Athenians were. 25 C. Murgia, ‘Language and Style of Livy’ in Livius: Aspekte seines Werkes (1993), ed. W. Schuller, 96. Hesiod made Latinus the son of Odysseus and Circe (Theog. 1011– 6). 26 One might also expect the question ‘Are you pirates?’ which Thucydides (1.5.2) 24

82

Chapter 4: The Livian Tradition I

their presumptuousness through the powerful but brief condemnation of Tarentine actions, nec satis (nor was this enough). The laconic formulation suits the rhetorical conventions of Republican oratory, but also hints that the Romans, like Dionysius’ Postumius, shared more in common with the Spartans than their former colonists. Some claimed that, like the Tarentines, they too were descended from the Lacedaemonians.27 However, the Spartans had a reputation for hesitating, particularly in their foreign affairs.28 Such an accusation could never be made against the Romans.29 Their ‘representatives arrived at Taras without delay bringing a complaint’ (aderat sine mora querellam ferens legatio). Now, we have a clear connection with the Periocha of Book Twelve, Livy, Valerius Maximus, and Dionysius. At the same time, Florus did not copy anyone verbatim. His word for the ambassadors was a singular noun, legatio. He omitted the demand for reparations and the iniurias suffered as a result of the naval engagement, and his legates complained (querellam ferens legatio), unlike those of Valerius, leaving the damages to the imagination of his audience, or to the memories of the well-informed. The emphasis falls on the outrage the Tarentines committed against the hastily dispatched Roman delegation, hanc quoque foede per obscenam turpemque dictu contumeliam violant (this they also violated shamefully through an insult lewd and foul to mention). Florus opted to lose the precision of Valerius who named the offending substance in an act the latter also labeled a contumelia. This term could very well be the one used by Livy, a natural enough assumption since this is an obvious translation of Polybius’ ajsevlgeian. However, the fact that the insult is obscenam turpemque dictu echoes Dionysius’ ‘impurity not fit to be spoken’. Similarly, its character both ‘lewd’ and ‘foul’ suggests the two-part description which first had Philonides expose himself and take a position ‘shameful to see’ before the coup de grâce. Although leaving far more to the imagination of the reader than Dionysius, Florus formulated an insult which managed to hint at the essence of the Philonides episode without being a simple translation or an attempt to embellish the scene further. says was asked of seafarers in the ancient poets, see S. Hornblower, A Commentary on Thucydides vol. 1 (1991) 23–4. 27 Rawson, The Spartan Tradition in European Thought 99–115. 28 Thucydides has the Corinthians accuse the Spartans of this (1.69.4) followed by Archidamus’ repetition of the popular perception (1.84). The words of a Rhodian in the second century as reported by Livy (45.23.14–16) show the continuity of the reputation. 29 According to Dionysius (15.10.1), the Samnites made the mistake of thinking that the Romans would be slow to begin hostilities. Notably, after the fetials returned to Rome and reported the reply of the Samnites, a vote was held to declare war and the consuls invaded enemy territory, thus beginning the Second Samnite War.

Florus

83

As we have seen in the texts of Plutarch and Valerius, Florus had no interest in copying the work of his predecessors word for word nor did the scope of his narrative allow for this. War followed immediately (et hinc bellum), without debate at either Rome or Taras. The Periocha of Book Twelve mentioned the Romans’ formal declaration, but nothing about the Tarentines’ discussion. If the latter were an element from the annalistic tradition which Florus has simply omitted, we expect to find some evidence in another author who made extensive use of Livy. Just such an historiographer was Appian, whose account happens to be the most complete to come down to us. He also makes more details available than Dionysius, Valerius, or Florus. As such, his history has been the one relied upon most by modern scholarship for the narrative of these incidents, but without an attempt to assess how much of the narrative results from Appian’s own practice of inventio.30

See Brauer, Taras 122-5, and Lomas, RWG 50–1. Curiously, Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 13–4, argues that Appian and Dionysius of Halicarnassus are the least dependent on the annalistic tradition. 30

CHAPTER 5 THE LIVIAN TRADITION?: APPIAN Writing in the second century A.D., Appian’s first relevant fragment (Sam. 3.7.1) reports the naval battle and offers details more reminiscent of Dionysius than of Florus. At the same time, the passage very likely reflects information preserved by the annalistic tradition, although just how much remains an open question:1 Kornhvlio" ejpi; katafravktwn devka new`n ejqea`to th;n megavlhn Ê E J llavda. kaiv ti" ejn Tavranti dhmagwgo;" Filovcari", aijscrw`" te bebiwkw;", kai; para; tou`to kalouvmeno" Qaiv", palaiw`n tou;" Tarantivnou" ajnemivmnhske sunqhkw`n: mh; plei`n JRwmaivou" provsw Lakiniva" a[kra", paroxuvna" te e[peisen ejpanacqh`nai tw`/ Kornhlivw/. kai; tevssara" me;n aujtou` nau`" katevdusan oiJ Taranti`noi, mivan de; e[labon aujtoi`" ajndravsin. Cornelius was viewing Magna Graecia with ten warships. There was a certain demagogue in Taras, Philocharis, who lived shamefully and was called Thais because of this. He reminded the Tarentines of an ancient agreement that the Romans not sail farther to the Lacinian promontory. He persuaded them to attack Cornelius by goading them. While the Tarentines sank four of the Roman’s ships, they captured one with its crew.

We learn the name of the Roman commander, Cornelius, followed by the number and type of ships in which the Romans were sailing.2 There were ten in the squadron, hardly the fleets reported by Florus, and these were katafravktai or decked, in other words, warships. Appian provided a pretext for the presence of the Roman squadron in Magna Graecia; they I have omitted the initial {Oti which begins several of the passages contained within the present volume. The subordinating conjunction indicates that such texts (Plb. 8.24.3; D. H. 19.5.1; D. C. 9.39.1, 3, 5, 10 below) derive from Byzantine excerpta and that the initial syntax was adjusted for the new construction, see P. A. Brunt, CQ n.s. 30 (1980), and Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian 72–4. The sentences are otherwise faithful to their originals. 2 Cornelius was the commander of a Roman squadron operating in Campania in 310. Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War 23–4 n. 60, considers the appearance of the name a mistake: ‘Probably the commander of this little squadron was anonymous in the original tradition: among the younger annalists one will simply have given him the name of his predecessor of 310, a rather stupid contrivance, because there had been some thirty years between the two expeditions …’. 1

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

85

were on a voyage of inspection, although he did not provide their exact destination.3 The main verb ejqea`to, another touch of focalization, serves to underscore that Cornelius and his men were innocent victims of Greek treachery, mere sightseers and nothing more. Whether this is an exegetical remark Appian has supplied is impossible to determine since we have neither Livy nor Dionysius for comparison. Clearer examples of his own elaboration emerge throughout the narrative. This begins with the quick change of scenes. The audience is transported to Taras where Philocharis urged his fellow citizens to attack the Romans. Florus’ account would lead us to believe that the Tarentines were in their theatre watching a performance when the Romans approached their shores. Philocharis, then, would have risen at the appearance of the squadron and urged repulsing the intruders. However, Appian related no such locale or arrival and it was the Romans who were doing the watching. Similarly, we are not told where the demagogue began to address the Tarentines. Although it is not obvious at first, it will soon become clear that we have met Philocharis before. Dionysius described a man called Thais who was thoroughly bereft of morality (Taranti`nov" ti" ajnh;r ajnaidh;" kai; peri; pavsa" ta;" hJdona;" ajselgh;" ajpo; th`" ajkolavstou kai; kakw`" dhmosieuqeivsh" ejn paisi;n w{ra" ejpekalei`to Qavi"). Appian introduces us to a figure similarly corrupt, a certain demagogue at Taras, Philocharis, who lived in a shameful manner and because of this was called Thais (kai; ti" ejn Tavranti dhmagwgo;" Filovcari", aijscrw`" te bebiwkw;", kai; para; tou`to kalouvmeno" Qaiv"). He wisely avoided trying to add to Dionysius’ already elaborate characterization, but the obvious parallels and the shared nickname cannot be coincidence.4 We only wish that more of Dionysius’ text survived to allow for a detailed analysis of the changes between the two narratives. However, the brevity of Appian’s account suggests that we are not missing that much. No longer ajselgh;", Thais still lived shamefully (aijscrw`" te bebiwkw;"), without any specifics as to how he was corrupted, not that Dionysius 3 Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War 24–5, calls this explanation, ‘an impudent invention of the annalists who wanted to exculpate the Romans and to represent them as the innocent and artless victims of the Tarentine aggression’. He then provided three, oft-repeated explanations for the presence of the Roman fleet: 1) they were on their way to recently established colonies on the Adriatic, 2) they were intended to occupy Taras by surprise in cooperation with the conservative aristocrats of the city, and 3) they were there in connection with the Roman garrisons at Rhegion, Locri, and Thurii. It was the latter explanation which Thiel found most acceptable. 4 I. Hahn and G. Németh, ANRW 34.1 (1994) 396, comment on Appian’s avoidance of moral judgments about events and people.

86

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

offered lots of details. Both authors worked through insinuation. We must read into what Appian meant by the adverb and participle. Although one needs no literary background to supply an interpretation, someone familiar with Plato, Theopompus, Clearchus of Soli, and Strabo, or even Dionysius and Plutarch, would have a much better idea. Similarly, Appian furnished no hint à la Dionysius as to the proclivities of this Thais or explanation as to why the man had earned the nickname. The word ‘demagogue’ substitutes for the phrase about prostitution without the blunt sexual disapproval. If we are operating in the world of moral exempla as found in Livy, Dionysius, and Valerius Maximus, the accusation of being a rabble-rouser conjures up a number of potential stereotypes concerning the state of affairs at Taras. We have seen how Plutarch made good use of this, particularly since there is no reason to doubt the presence of popular agitators there. A notable difference between Appian and his sources, however, is the inclusion of the demagogue’s name. Appian called Dionysius’ ‘certain Tarentine’ Philocharis. PHILOCHARIS: THE ‘LOVER OF FAVOR’ This demagogue has been accepted as a real figure who prompted the Tarentines to begin the ten-year war with Rome. It is possible that he did exist and that this is the name preserved by Dionysius, Livy, or some earlier source both of these authors drew upon. However, in light of what we have seen so far, such an argument should seem tenuous. This is the first time Philocharis has appeared, some 500 years or so after the events in question. While it is certainly possible that Dionysius called him this, we will want to consider possible objections to such a conclusion. Dionysius created two episodes set at Taras in which he punned upon perfectly good Greek names, of individuals who also happened to be characters in the comedies of Aristophanes, to highlight the differences between Tarentines and Romans. With citizens like Philonides and Meton inhabiting his version of the polis, the defeat of the Greeks was an obvious outcome of the war. Both were interested in little more than wine and a life of ease. Appian has illustrated these very ideas through his choice of name for Philocharis which can be interpreted as ‘lover of favor’ or more loosely ‘lover of luxury’. The latter certainly fits the Thais we saw in the text of Dionysius, while the former befits a demagogue. The fact that our second version ‘lives shamefully’ shows the continuity of the Tarentine reputation into the second century A.D. The nature of Thais’ political role confirms his objectionable character. The only trouble is that in his choice of name, Appian demonstrates how brilliant Dionysius was in punning. Whereas

Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’

87

Philonides or Philonidas was a common name in the Greek world and Meton less so, but attested famously nonetheless, not so Philocharis. The four volumes of the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names list only two individuals, a Rhodian (vol. 1, p. 471) and our Tarentine (vol. 3a, 462). The PaulyWissowa Real-Encyclopedia (vol. 19, col. 2434) contains an entry for only one, the second of the two. No known comedy featured a character called Philocharis. Perhaps Appian picked the name because the astute reader would be alerted to the pun by its newness and rareness, an overt clue not unlike Dionysius’ use of Thais and the spelling of Philonides.5 A potential parallel comes from Appian’s narrative of events in Spain leading up to the Second Punic War. Hannibal sent the complaint to Carthage that the Saguntines were wronging peoples loyal to Carthage, but if he knew their identities, Polybius (3.15.8) did not name the victims. Livy supplied these, the Turdetani (21.6.1, 12.5; 28.39.11) and the Turduli (28.39.8). Only Appian (Ib. 10) reported Hannibal’s conspiracy with the Turbuletes (Torbolhvta") who were to lodge a complaint with their ally that their neighbors the Saguntines ‘were attacking them and committing many other injustices’. These Turbuletes are otherwise unknown and one can understand why.6 Given their role in stirring up turmoil to help Hannibal initiate the war, Appian derived the name from the Latin turbulentus which accurately describes the Spaniards’ behavior and, once modified, does not seem out of place among the Turduli and Turdetani. Livy (21.6.1–2) implicated the latter in Hannibal’s plot and it is possible that Appian was aware of the geographical difficulties this created. Authors like Ptolemy (2.4.9) and Strabo (3.1.6, 2.15) made the distance between the Turdetani and Saguntum clear. The Edetani actually lived close enough to play the desired part. However, the Turbuletes, fictional only in name, reflected the role attributed to the Spaniards by the historical tradition and eliminated what Appian introduced new names on other occasions. His narrative of the Second Punic War (Hann. 7.6.32) features a Tarentine called Konwneu;" whom Polybius (8.24– 34) and Livy (25.8–11) both called Philemenus. In his narrative of the Illyrian War, he offered another name, Kleemporos, not attested by Polybius, which many scholars accept as genuine owing to its appearance in an inscription. Appian provided an account very different from that of Polybius and which has earned considerable favor. For citations, see R. M. Errington, CAH2 8 (1989) 87. Cf. Harris, WIRR 195–6, esp. n. 4. As for the bearing of these arguments and evidence on Philocharis, the Illyrian War occurred some fifty years after the beginning of the Tarentine War, a period when literature had begun to be written at Rome. The first Roman historians actually lived through the Illyrian War, a crucial difference, while Kleemporos, as an ambassador to the Romans, was an important and presumably reputable individual, most unlike Appian’s Philocharis. 6 The Turdetani lived too far from Saguntum to be considered neighbors, see H. H. Scullard, CAH2 8 (1989) 33. 5

88

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

appeared to be an error. From Appian’s perspective, the names of the Celtic tribes were losing their significance in a Spain which had furnished two emperors during his lifetime, both from Italica in the territory of the Turdetani. Appian might have thought he was ‘removing’ a certain embarassment over the relationship between Hannibal and the Iberians of the future Hispania Ulterior. Of course, the names of the real Spanish tribes as well as the story of the plot could still be found in the geographers and Livy. Calling Thais Philocharis was really no different. The recurrent reference to the ‘companion’ of Alexander the Great suggests an unwarlike character and a lack of masculine virtue. Not surprisingly, Philocharis’ role was to incite the Tarentines to attack the ten Roman ships.7 One can imagine that he would not have participated in the actual combat he fomented by reminding all of an old treaty forbidding the Romans to sail past the Lacinian promontory (palaiw`n tou;" Tarantivnou" ajnemivmnhske sunqhkw`n mh; plei`n RJ wmaivou" provsw Lakiniva" a[kra"). Four factors make this alleged agreement particularly suspicious. Appian is our only source, once again raising the question whence he derived this information. We feel the loss of Dionysius acutely in this case, but not of Livy. The latter’s Books Eight, Nine, and Ten contain references to the Tarentines, but to no explicit pact between them and the Romans, especially with the terms Philocharis stipulated. Second, the demagogue’s description of the treaty as ‘ancient’ leads one to ask exactly when the negotiations took place.8 Estimates have ranged from 348 to 303/2 B.C., the date around which there has been the most scholarly consensus.9 Third, the treaty features familiar but odd language, particularly its unparalleled use of provsw. Finally, and most problematic, Philocharis gives the Tarentines a legitimate reason for attacking the Romans. As such, this fascinating tidbit can only fit within the Roman annalistic tradition as a deliberate fabrication in an effort to cast the Tarentines in a negative light and to hold them responsible for the war. The temptation to view it as a legitimate sign of Appian’s objectivity and the survival of a Greek source should be resisted. Nevertheless, the agreement has been accepted as genuine and efforts to date it have tended to focus on conflicts reported in our sources.10 The Hoffmann, Hermes 71 (1936) 15, who only uses the name Thais, implies that although the details concerning Philocharis help explain why the Tarentines attack, this information was not included in Livy. Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 102 n. 5. 8 Thucydides (1.20.1) used palaiav to describe an agreement thirty years old (1.23.4) at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, Wuilleumier, Tarente 95. Thus, the word itself need not bother us. 9 Oakley, Comm. 681 n. 1: ‘All attempts to date Appian’s treaty are conjectural, and hence it is unwise to use it in any reconstruction of the period’. 10 H. H. Schmitt, Die Staatsverträge des Altertums vol. 3 (1969) 60–1; Brauer, Taras 68–71; Franke CAH2 7.2 (1989) 456–7; Lomas, RWG 42–3; and Urso, TXS 102– 3. For further references, see Torelli, RRF 99. 7

Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’

89

Romans did sign treaties with the defeated, but the search for an agreement resulting from hostilities serves to highlight the limited evidence available for this period. From among the five condottieri the Tarentines hired to fight on their behalf, it is the second of these, Alexander the Molossian, who is first reported to have had contact with the Romans. Livy (8.17.10) related that, once in Italy at the Tarentines’ behest (334–330), he made peace with the Romans (Alexander … pacem cum Romanis fecit) after defeating the Samnites and Lucanians in battle.11 Sufficient evidence exists to put Livy’s testimony regarding the agreement seriously in doubt, if not to reject it outright.12 Ordinarily, pax was made (facere) with the defeated (e.g. the Sabines, 1.37.6) or granted (dare) to those who asked for help, language which reflects an ideology of dominance inappropriate in this case.13 The Epirote condottiere never fought the Romans nor did he seek their alliance against a common threat, a position which would imply his inferiority and desire for Roman leadership (as with the Latins at 7.12.7). According to Justin (12.2.12), Alexander made treaties (foedus amicitiamque) with the Metapontines, the Poediculi, an Apulian people otherwise called the Peucetians (Strabo 6.3.1), and the Romans, but mentioned no Samnites or battle at Poseidonia. Clearly, a tradition existed in the first century B.C. that Alexander made or sought one or more agreements with various cities and peoples in Italy including the Romans.14 However, even if he did communicate with the Romans, it is difficult to imagine why he would have negotiated a clause prohibiting them from sailing east of the Lacinian promontory. Similarly, as hêgemôn of the Italiote League, Tarentine interests c. 331 concerned Greek cities from Taras to Neapolis and the decision to draw a boundary at such a point remains puzzling.

On the dating of the Molossian’s arrival in Italy, see Oakley, Comm. 406–7, and Urso, TXS 23–8, 39–44. 12 Schmitt, Die Staatsverträge des Altertums vol. 3, does not include it nor does Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome 363. A. B. Bosworth, in the OCD, s.v. Alexander (6), expresses skepticism. Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 81–8; Purcell, CAH2 6 (1994) 391; Brauer, Taras 68–71; Lomas, RWG 42–3; and Urso, TXS 30–7. 13 See Harris’ comment, WIRR 35: ‘The Romans seem in any case to have conceived of pax as a condition that could only result from successful war’. Oakley, Comm. 589, notes that Livy’s ‘use of the term pacem (with its implication of earlier fighting) is loose’, but nevertheless argues for its authenticity. 14 Wuilleumier, Tarente 87, interprets a passage of Strabo (5.3.5) which has an unqualified Alexander and then a Demetrius complain to the Romans about the piracy of the Antiates as referring to Alexander the Molossian. P. De Souza, Piracy in the GrecoRoman World (2002) 52, identifies the two figures as Alexander the Great and Demetrius Poliorcetes I and relates some doubt about the historicity of Strabo’s testimony. 11

90

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

Livy (8.17.9) called Alexander’s fidelity into question (incertum qua fide culturus … pacem) and one has to ask whose interests the Molossian represented more, his own or those of the Tarentines. By contrast, Livy’s narrative of Alexander’s exploits (8.24.4–18) pitted the condottiere mainly against Bruttians, Lucanians, Messapians, and Apulians, traditional Tarentine opponents in the Mezzogiorno. He died in battle at Pandosia (Str. 6.1.5), just to the west-northwest of Heraclea, far from Roman territory. After naming (Str. 6.3.4) his opponents as Messapians and Lucanians, Strabo told of strife between the Tarentines and Alexander which contributed to his death and also problematizes the notion of the mercenary general negotiating on his employer’s behalf. Indeed, Justin (12.2.12), the epitomator of Pompeius Trogus, alleged that the Molossian aspired to rule Italy, Sicily, and Africa, an exaggerated attempt to make Alexander, who was the uncle of Alexander the Great, a rival of his nephew. More to the point, if he aspired to the rule of Italy, prohibiting the Romans from sailing past Croton rather than somewhere along the Tyrrhenian coast makes little sense. Aulus Gellius (17.21.33) claimed that the condottiere intended to wage war against Rome, owing to the Romans’ reputation for valor and luck, but died before he had the chance.15 What such evidence attests is a fascination with Alexander the Great and a Roman wistfulness at not having had the opportunity to defeat this much admired figure.16 The Italian successes of Alexander the Molossian, a kind of substitute Alexander the Great, must have made him the subject of speculation about the outcome had he actually taken the field against the Romans. Livy’s ‘peace’ between the mercenary general and the Romans is true in a sense if only because the two likely never came into contact. Our sources agree that Alexander did not proceed north of Lucanian Poseidonia at a time when Roman intervention in Campania had not yet reached south of Cumae or Neapolis, the latter still an independent Greek city.17 While it is tempting and certainly accurate to 15 Brauer, Taras 69: ‘The Molossians’ reputation may have been overstressed by modern scholars as well as by Aulus Gellius. It is perhaps too tempting to apply hindsight: to look at the spectacular progress of Alexander the Great from 334 on and assume that his uncle must have been tremendously envious’. Cf. Oakley, Comm. 591. 16 Livy’s final words (8.24.18) about Alexander the Molossian reveal such an attitude, ‘Concerning the sad fate of Alexander of Epirus, although fortune restrained him from war with Rome, nevertheless, because he waged war in Italy, may it be enough to have said these few words’ (haec de Alexandri Epirensis tristi eventu, quamquam Romano bello fortuna eum abstinuit, tamen, quia in Italia bella gessit, paucis dixisse satis sit). 17 Cf. Lomas, RWG 42: ‘By moving into Campania, he had entered into territory contested by both Rome and the Samnites. He attempted to safeguard his position against the Samnites by making a treaty with Rome …’. This argument attributes ambitions to Alexander which the evidence does not really support. Moreover, the area of the

Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’

91

think of shifting coalitions vying for power and dominance within what is now the Italian peninsula, we must beware anachronistic attempts to project Roman preeminence into such a scenario.18 The next opportunity for a treaty between Rome and the Tarentines occurred when the latter are said (Livy 9.14) to have interceded in an attempt to prevent war between the Samnites and Romans at Luceria, c. 320, a story which should be dismissed as annalistic invention.19 Luceria, near modern Foggia, lies over 223 kilometers distant from Taranto. It is hard to imagine how a group of Tarentines, representatives (legati), not an army, could have been dispatched in time to intercede in a battle between Romans and Samnites so far to the north, beyond Ausculum, or what they might have hoped to accomplish had they actually been present.20 The last evidence of Tarentine-Roman conflict prior to 282 comes from an enigmatic fragment of Diodorus (20.104) and Livy (10.2). According to the former, the Romans, Lucanians, and Tarentines were at war in 303. It would be natural enough to conclude that the hostilities resulted in some kind of treaty, were it not for the fact that the rest of the account (20.104-5) concerns only Greeks and Lucanians.21 Livy, meanwhile, presented two modern region of Campania was disputed by more than Romans and Samnites c. 334–330. 18 The Latins had only been subdued in 338 while the Etruscans, Samnites, and Lucanians would offer resistance until the Pyrrhic War. 19 Wuilleumier, Tarente 91–2; E. T. Salmon, Samnium and the Samnites (1967) 229–30; Cornell, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 371, who says, ‘the details of the victory at Luceria are obviously imaginary’; and Oakley, Comm. 656, who notes that the story ‘appears in one of the most unreliable portions of Livy’s history’. Cf. Brauer, Taras 74–5, and Lomas, RWG 49–50, who lend more credence to the accounts. Urso, TXS 53–67, sees the battle at Luceria as the incident that provoked the Second Samnite War and dates it to 326. 20 De Sanctis described this episode as a ‘commedia’, see C. Giannelli, ‘Gli interventi di Cleonimo e di Agatocle in Magna Grecia’, CS 11 (1974) 357, who prefers to date the episode to 315. The idea of comedy suggests Livy’s treatment of the incident as an interesting analogy for the way that he and Dionysius handled their material involving the Tarentines, the minimalism of the former in contrast with the detailed scenes of the latter. 21 According to Diodorus, Cleonymus collected enough troops to influence the Lucanians to abandon their hostilities with the Tarentines. He then urged the Italians to attack the Metapontines as did he with his own forces and planned to invade Sicily. Withdrawing to Corcyra which he established as a base of operations for incursions into Greece, he returned to Italy upon learning that the Tarentines had revolted. After meeting with two setbacks against unspecified barbarians, he returned to Corcyra. The Romans never play a role in any of these events. Nevertheless, K. Meister, CAH2 7.1 (1984) 406, has written that the Lucanians and Romans were allied against the Tarentines in 303/2 which led the Greeks to appeal to Cleonymus for assistance. Franke,

92

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

largely irreconcilable versions of what happened. The first (10.2.1–2) claimed that a consul, Aemilius, defeated Cleonymus in one battle and drove him back into his ships from a place called Thurias in Sallentinis, which continues to defy attempts to locate it. If Thurii was meant, that was not in the territory of the Sallentini since this group lived in a part of southern Apulia Roman armies had not yet reached in 303.22 In the second (10.2.3– 15), the dictator Iunius Bubulcus was sent to deal with Cleonymus who withdrew from Italy before a battle was fought. The length of this account leaves little doubt about which version Livy preferred, perhaps because the Spartan king raided the area around Patavia where he met with defeat, far from Thurii, the Sallentini, or Taras. Most importantly, this conflicting testimony fails to provide any certain occasions for negotiations between the Tarentines and the Romans. Let us now consider the source of our information about the terms of the alleged treaty and by that I do not mean Appian, but rather a person within his narrative. The character Thais is consistent in both Dionysius and Appian. Both authors make clear that this man had no credibility and was devoid of morality. Why then should we believe anything he said? The officiallooking prohibition (mh; plei`n RJ wmaivou" provsw Lakiniva" a[kra") fools us thanks to historical verisimilitude.23 Polybius had reported treaties between Rome and Carthage, the first (3.22.5) forbidding the Romans of the newly created Republic and their allies from sailing beyond the ‘Fair Promontory’ (mh; plei`n RJ wmaivou" mhde; tou;" RJ wmaivwn summavcou" ejpevkeina tou` Kalou` ajkrwthrivou).24 Notably, such an agreement and its restrictions did not result from war nor did subsequent treaties with Carthage (Plb. 3.22–5; Liv. 7.27.2, 38.2; 9.43.6; cf. D. S. 16.69.1) prior to the First Punic War. CAH2 7.2 (1989) 458, seems to combine the competing Livian traditions and says that the Romans drove Cleonymus out of Italy who turned to brigandage in the Adriatic. According to Urso, TXS 70, Livy’s testimony puts Cleonymus mainly in the Veneto, but also makes reference to campaigning in Magna Graecia. Purcell, CAH2 6 (1994) 392, urges skepticism about Roman involvement. Cornell, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 372–7, is tellingly silent. 22 Triumphs celebrated at this time over the Anagnini and the Hernici (306), the Samnites (305), the Aequi and Samnites (304), the Aequi (302), and the Etruscans and Marsi (299) suggest that Roman campaigns focused on the central peninsula. Cf. Urso, TXS 95–7, who identifies Thurii with Turi di Bari, but contradicts himself (p. 115) by saying that the silence of the sources leads one to rule out Roman intervention in southern Italy prior to 285. 23 The infinitive substituted for the third person in legal language and had ‘a solemn force’ in prose (Smyth 2013b). On the identification of this cape, see Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 1 341–2. 24 See Scullard, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 517–37, and R. E. A. Palmer, Rome and Carthage at Peace (1997) 17–30.

Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’

93

Thus, efforts to date Philocharis’ ‘ancient’ compact to the period when our sources mention the Romans and the Tarentines in close context, in other words, possibly at war with one another, could very well have been carried out in vain.25 The historical tradition never speaks of Greeks from Taras, unlike the Carthaginians and the Massaliotes, making a visit to Rome which resulted in treaties. Meanwhile, the striking similarities in Appian’s and Polybius’ language ought to arouse our suspicions that rather than a legitimate clause from a treaty we are confronting deliberate imitation of a text which was not ‘anything like a verbatim record’.26 The two clauses evidence similar syntax as well as some key differences in terminology. Both begin with the same words (mh; plei`n RJ wmaivou"), although Appian’s prohibition does not refer to any allies. One wonders if this is intended to suggest an archaic Roman state less powerful than the one seen in Polybius, whose first two treaties referred to the Romans and their allies (3.22.4–5, 24.3). The phrases which indicate the limit beyond which the Romans were not permitted to sail follow the same construction, preposition and place name in the order adjective (Kalou`, Lakiniva"), substantive (ajkrwthrivou, a[kra"). In fact, Lakiniva" a[kra" is unique to Appian, making only one other appearance in reverse order (a[kra/ Lakiniva/) on the occasion when Sextus Pompeius robbed the temple of Hera there (BC 5.133).27 Rather than opting for Lakivnion or to; Lakivnion as in Polybius (3.33.18, 56.5; 15.1.11; 34.11.9, 10) and Strabo (6.1.11, 3.5), a clear reference to the renowned sanctuary, Appian appears to have modelled his Lakiniva" a[kra" on the former’s Kalou` ajkrwthrivou in the famous first treaty between Rome and Carthage.28 One other reason for selecting the 25 While the Roman historical tradition lends a certain degree of plausibility to the agreement by reporting contact with the Massaliotes, the Cumaeans (D. H. 5.26.3), the Syracusans (D. H. 7.1.4–6), and the Rhodians (Plb. 30.5.6) for the fourth century and earlier, at least three of the four (Massalia, Syracuse, Rhodes) have been called into question as anachronistic, see M. Cary, JPhil 35 (1920) 170–2, and A. Drummond, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 134. Justin’s (43.3.4) amicitia between the future Massaliotes and the Romans as the Phocaeans landed near Rome en route to founding their colony in southern France at the beginning of the reign of Tarquinius Priscus, c. 600 B.C, should be rejected and is often dated to the reign of Tarquinius Superbus instead, see A. T. Hodge, Ancient Greek France (1998) 64–5, who omits the story and notes Justin’s lack of reliability, and A. Momigliano, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 111. Significantly, none of these relationships involved the imposition of restrictions on where the Romans could sail. 26 Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 1 338. 27 Diodorus Siculus (8.17.1) reports an oracle in which the Lacinian promontory occurs in the masculine Lakinivou a[krou and how the Athenian fleet sailed past the temple of Lacinian Hera and doubled the promontory ‘Dioscouriada’, th`" te Lakiniva" ÊH { ra" to; iJero;n parevpleusan kai; th;n Dioskouriavda kaloumevnhn a[kran uJperevqento. 28 Latin authors use Lacinium and Lacinium promunturium (Liv. 36.42.2; Plin. Nat. 3.43, 96, 97, 99; Mela 2.68).

94

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

phrase might involve the kind of wordplay we have seen in Dionysius’ text, no surprise given his importance as a source, much less the rhetorical conventions of ancient literature, or as we have seen Appian carry out with the Spanish Torbolhvta" and the Tarentine Philocharis. When reading his text, the alert Latin speaker would hear Lacinia sacra(s) and sacra(e) Lacinia(e) (Sikeliva" a[kra/ Lakiniva/) respectively, the order emphasizing the boundary at Hera’s temple so important to the Greek demagogue and Pompey’s violation of the sacred through thievery. One last alteration to the Polybian model resulted from changing the preposition ejpevkeina, ‘beyond’, found in both the first and second agreements between Rome and Carthage, into the more difficult provsw, ‘far from’ or ‘far into’, hence not a synonym for the original word. In fact, Polybius avoided the term as did Thucydides, although it can be found as a preposition in Herodotus, Xenophon, and in Dionysius of Halicarnassus.29 None of these examples provides the required sense nor do the five other instances of provsw in Appian.30 If he was working from memory, it is possible that he did not properly recall the text of Polybius. Presumably, Philocharis was meant to say that the Romans were not to sail farther than the Lacinian promontory. What Philocharis really seems to have reminded his fellow citizens of is an agreement that the Romans not sail further into the Lacinian promontory, in other words, that they should not run aground. Plato, Demosthenes, and Isocrates also avoided provsw. Herodotus used the term twenty-seven times, although far less as a preposition, for example (2.11.1) ‘not far from Egypt’ (Aijguvptou de; ouj provsw) and (5.13.2) ‘the Strymon is not far from the Hellespont’ (oJ de; Strumw;n ouj provsw tou` E J llhspovntou). Xenophon employed provsw thirty times, e.g. (An. 3.2.22) ‘if (sc. the rivers) are not fordable even far from their sources’ (h]n kai; provsw tw`n phgw`n a[poroiv w\si); (An. 4.1.3) ‘It is said that the sources of the Euphrates are not far from the Tigris’ (kai; tou` Eujfravtou de; ta;" phga;" ejlevgeto ouj provsw tou` Tivgrhto" ei\nai); (An. 4.3.29) and ‘do not go far into the river’ (mh; provsw de; tou` potamou` probaivnein). Only one instance survives in the text of Dionysius (D. H. 1.50.2), ‘making the voyage from Cythera not far from the Peloponnese’ (ajpo; de; Kuqhvrwn poiouvmenoi to;n plou`n ouj provsw th`" Peloponnhvsou). 30 Three of these occur in the common phrase ej" to; provsw as at Ib. 20 ‘(sc. he ordered) those below to push the siege engines forward’ (tou;" de; kavtw ta;" mhcana;" wjqei`n ej" to; provsw); Hann. 15 ‘Once he gathered them, he led them forward’ (kai; aujtou;" sunagagw;n ajph`ren ej" to; provsw); and BC 1.9.79 ‘He himself called the troops and led them onward’ (aujto;" d j ajnasthvsa" to;n strato;n h\gen ej" to; provsw). Another is strictly adverbial, BC 1.10.86 ‘having called the troops, Sulla moved forward laying waste all hostile territory’ (ajnasthvsa" Suvlla" ejcwvrei provsw ta; polevmia pavnta dh/w`n). The last, Ib. 17, offers another common usage, provsw introduced by an article, ‘While Hannibal was devastating the distant areas of Italy …’. ( A j nnivbou porqou`nto" ta; provsw th`" Ij taliva" … ). One would like to find an example of provsw introducing a genitive of comparison. I have found no other such usage, although Hippocrates (Ep. 4.38) used it comparatively in a temporal sense. 29

Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’

95

This may be a wry joke about the Roman self-image as a nation of farmers, Greek arrogance, and an allusion to Tarentine superiority at sea. After all, Polybius (1.20.12) claimed that the Romans did not have a fleet before the First Punic War, while the Tarentines are said to have had the strongest in that part of Italy (Str. 6.3.4) and became a part of the socii navales at the conclusion of the Pyrrhic War.31 The fact that Livy (9.30.4) and Diodorus (23.2.1) refer to a Roman navy created prior to 264 makes it unlikely that Appian, or possibly Dionysius if he is the source, believed the Megalopolitan’s hyperbole. In imitating Polybius’ language, Appian would have encountered no difficulties. Furthermore, this is not the only occasion on which he reported treaty terms not found in any other source. Polybius (3.2.8) related an agreement, also mentioned by Livy (31.14.5) and Justin (30.2.8), between Philip V and Antiochus III to divide the Egyptian empire which the death of Ptolemy IV Philopator and the youth of his successor, Ptolemy V Epiphanes, made possible. Justin, and his source Pompeius Trogus, said that the Alexandrians had sent ambassadors to Rome to complain about the pact. Only Appian (Mac. 4) claimed to have known of a story or rumor (lovgo" te h\n) that a Rhodian delegation informed the Romans about the agreement and provided its details.32 Unlike Polybius, who indicated that Antiochus would help Philip further his interests in the Aegean, Caria, and Samos while Philip would assist his Seleucid associate in Coele Syria and Phoenicia, Appian’s Rhodians alleged that Antiochus was interested in Egypt and Cyprus while Philip was said to have laid his designs on Cyrene, the Cyclades, and Ionia.33 The Rhodians (Liv. 31.2.1–2) did in fact send a delegation to Rome along with Attalus of Pergamum during the autumn of 201 in the hopes of gaining help against the aggression of Philip who had captured Thasos, Cius, Milêtos, and Samos, and attacked Pergamum.34 Appian’s attribution of the details of the pact between Philip and Antiochus to the Rhodians improves upon Justin’s Alexandrian embassy which finds no separate corroboration. Indeed, this ‘attempt to fit flesh onto Polybius’ skeleton’ could be more than ‘a simple schematic carve-up of the eastern Mediterranean lands by someone who had a map but not much actual political knowledge’.35 It should be viewed as a deliberate attempt at See A. Milan, CS 10.2 (1973) 193–221. R. M. Errington, Athenaeum 49 (1971) 346. 33 Polybius’ text has been emended by Niebuhr from toi`" kat j Ai[gupton, which Polybius knew Philip never attacked, to toi`" kat j Aijgai`on, see Errington, Athenaeum 49 (1971) 339–40. 34 R. M. Errington, CAH2 8 (1989) 244–56. 35 Errington, Athenaeum 49 (1971) 353. Cf. Harris, WIRR 213 n. 2. Errington builds on Magie’s argument that the terms of the pact disclosed at Rome derived from a 31 32

96

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

rhetorical characterization which in and of itself cannot tell us much about Appian’s awareness of affairs in the eastern Mediterranean c. 201 B.C. Appian presented his audience with a rumor, one which suited the occasion very well, but which was detectable as a fabrication by virtue of its appearance in only his work. As with all convincing rumors, it contained enough of the truth to sound plausible. The Rhodians, in an effort to gain Roman help, would have doubtless exaggerated the threat posed by Philip and Antiochus to the balance of power in the Mediterranean. Simultaneously, rumors, as anyone who has played ‘telephone’ knows, frequently get the facts wrong. As such, the claim that Philip was interested in Cyrene and Ionia and Antiochus in conquering Egypt and Cyprus could be interpreted in several ways. If one did not choose to accept the account on the grounds that it put the two kings in conflict over Ionia, one could believe that the ambassadors had deliberately exaggerated the terms of the pact, or that the Rhodians, regardless of the diplomatic message, were the source of the story, or that the rumor as related by some other source had gotten the message of the Rhodians’ actual embassy to Rome wrong. Appian quite cleverly availed himself of a rhetorical stratagem in introducing the terms of the pact in this way. The alteration of Polybius’ content also need not reflect badly on the historical Rhodians who faced a very real threat in Philip and Antiochus as Appian doubtless knew. One may not say the same about how we should view the fictionalized Philocharis, the Tarentine demagogue. Where the Rhodians sought to cultivate a relationship with Rome, Thais was actively hostile, or rather that is how Appian chose to depict him. A figure of this sort was necessary to foment the conflict which ensued. However, just as with the details of the Rhodians’ embassy, their identification as a logos, and the deviations from the Polybian account, certain clues in the text alert us to the fabrication within. Appian described Philocharis/ Thais as a disreputable man of base morals who ‘lived shamefully’. The demagogue then ‘reminded’ his fellow citizens of an ‘old treaty’ which could be interpreted as meaning that the Romans were forbidden from running aground on the Lacinian promontory, a play on the Polybian terms between Rome and Carthage. Philocharis’ reference to a palaiw`n sunqhkw`n has already been viewed as a demogogic attempt to manipulate an ignorant populace.36 The fact that Roman historians recorded many agreements and treaties struck with various peoples before the First Punic War added contemporary Rhodian source, possibly Zeno or Antisthenes. In my view, the fact that there were such possible sources only makes Appian’s invention more plausible. One might well take note that no such names survive of Tarentine historians who would have been writing coevally with or shortly after the Bellum Tarentinum. 36 Wuilleumier, Tarente 95.

Philocharis: The ‘Lover of Favor’

97

plausibility to the existence of such a pact, even with the conspicuousness of the new treaty. Justin and Livy recorded a peace, whether true or not, made between Alexander the Molossian and the Romans. However, none of these derived from an individual labelled as untrustworthy, attempting to motivate the equally shameful hoi polloi to a base and unprovoked attack. In this case, we must resist the tendency, stemming from the desire, even the necessity, of believing that our sources do not lie, to view the terms of this treaty as the ‘truth’. Simultaneously, Appian should not be condemned or dismissed as incompetent or as a liar on the basis of this evidence. What we see, in this and in the Rhodians’ embassy, is an example of a difference between ancient and modern historiography, the use of rhetorical characterization advocated by the likes of Cicero (de Orat. 2.115) and Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Lys. 8). Obviously, on occasion, this was not restricted to the composition of speeches in direct discourse.37 The truthful presentation of a demagogue paradoxically necessitated putting lies in his mouth. Under false pretext, Philocharis succeeded in persuading his fellow citizens to sail out and attack Cornelius’ flotilla (paroxuvna" te e[peisen ejpanacqh`nai tw`/ Kornhlivw)/ . The ignorant mob actually believed his fabrications. They did not know their own history of foreign relations nor did they know how to treat strangers who approached their shores, possibly a nod to Florus. Appian’s implicit criticism of democracy recalls the contrasts between Greeks and Romans in Dionysius and Plutarch. The language does not just evoke these two historiographers, however. The use of paroxuvna" and e[peisen in close context is similar to a well-known passage of Thucydides (1.84). Early in the Peloponnesian War, Archidamus reminded his fellow Spartans, ‘if someone goads us through accusation, we, being no more bothered, are not persuaded’ (kai; h[n ti" a[ra xuvn kathgoriva/ paroxuvnh/, oujde;n dh; ma`llon ajcqesqevnte" ajnepeivsqhmen). Goading, as a rhetorical technique, would fall well within the arsenal of the adept demagogue. Quite the opposite of the Spartiates, all the Tarentines required was the unsubstantiated claim of a Philocharis to spur them into action. They manned their ships and headed out to meet the Roman squadron, although precisely where, in the harbor of Taras or farther away in the Gulf of Tarentum, remains unclear. Four of Cornelius’ cataphracts were sunk and one captured with its crew (kai; tevssara" me;n aujtou` nau`" katevdusan oiJ Taranti`noi, mivan de; e[labon aujtoi`" ajndravs in). The Tarentines then proceeded to Thurii where they drove out the prominent citizens, captured the In his history of the Civil Wars, Appian made extensive use of indirect discourse which ‘served the dual function of dramatizing the situation and of allowing the reader to obtain a more intimate insight into the various protagonists’, A. M. Gowing, The Triumviral Narratives of Appian and Cassius Dio (1992) 229–30. On characterization, see Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography 128–33. 37

98

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

city, and expelled the Roman garrison, complaining that the people of Thurii, although Greeks, had turned to the Romans instead of them and that they had been responsible most of all for the Romans overstepping their bounds (e[" te Qourivou" ejgklhvmata poiouvmenoi, o{t i E { llhne" o[nte" ejpi; ÊR J wmaivou" katevfugon ajnti; sfw`n, kai; parelqei`n aujtou;" ejpevkeina ai[t ioi mavlista ejgegevnhnto). The appearance of ejpevkeina here instead of provsw reminds us of the text of Polybius, while parelqei`n provides variatio for plei`n and simultaneously implies transgression (LSJ s.v. parevrcomai § IV) from the Tarentine point of view. With plenty of good reasons for demanding reparations, Roman ambassadors arrived at Taras seeking redress and Appian furnished the details.38 The legates urged the return of their prisoners saying that the Tarentines had not taken warriors, but mere sightseers (tou;" me;n aijcmalwvtou" keleuvonte", ou}" ouj polemou`nta", ajlla; qewmevnou" e[labon, ajpodou`nai). Other demands included allowing the Thurians to return home and a restoration of property if the Tarentines desired friendship with the Romans. Thanks to Appian, we know the ‘threats’ which made Dionysius’ Greeks so angry (pro;" ta;" ajnatavsei" ejtracuvnonto). We also recognize the fetial procedure first explicitly extant in Valerius. Some of this information may be the handiwork of Appian explicating his sources. Without Livy’s narrative, however, there can only be speculation. The legates encountered difficulties of a nature which clearly looks to Dionysius above all. As we have seen once before, the Tarentines did not want to listen to the ambassadors whom they scarcely led before the assembled citizenry (oiJ de; tou;" prevsbei" movli" pote; ejpi; to; koino;n ejphvgagon). When they did introduce them into their midst, they mocked the new arrivals if they did not speak Greek well (kai; ejpelqovnta" ejcleuvazon, ei[ ti mh; kalw`" eJllhnivseian). Much like what he did with Dionysius’ description of Thais, Appian compressed a denser sentence into more simple language with some changes in syntax and vocabulary. Where Dionysius concluded with the apodosis of a condition which had the Tarentines watching and laughing (parathrou`nte" ejgevlwn), Appian’s spectators laughed at or mocked (ejcleuvazon) the Romans not for the utmost accuracy, but for the vaguer notion of speaking well. His apodosis came first and all the Romans spoke Greek, not just Postumius. The disappearance of a verb of observing or watching also produced some notable differences from Dionysius’ version of the story. Appian’s Postumius would not call Philonides ‘spermolovge a[nqrwpe’ or say that he had seen a bird of omen. Thus, it was unnecessary to include 38 The Periocha of Livy for Book Eleven mentioned the Roman presence at Thurii, see Lomas, RWG 51.

A Certain Philonides: The Reproach Lover Returns?

99

a participle about the Greeks eyeing Postumius closely. Dionysius’ paradoxical irony is thereby lost, but Appian introduced something new. Originally, the Tarentines attempted to watch for linguistic errors instead of listening, while Postumius was the one whose powers of observation proved more keen. Appian, taking a cue from parathrou`nte", had his Tarentines find only visual targets for their mirth. Their jesting hit upon the Roman garments, and they japed at the clavus, or broad purple stripe of the toga (e[skwpton de; kai; th;n stolh;n aujtw`n, kai; to; ejpipovrfuron). This jesting alone would furnish Postumius ample reason for warning that their blood would stain the garment they mocked, a point made all the more ironic by Clearchus of Soli’s assertion that the Greeks themselves wore clothing that featured a border, quite possibly of the color purple.39 We next see Philonides approach and insult the Roman representative, much as in Dionysius. A CERTAIN PHILONIDES: THE REPROACH LOVER RETURNS? The ti" added after the name, Filwnivdh" dev ti", suggests that Philonides was apparently only one of several if not many such men among the Tarentines. One wonders if the ti" functioned as a means of indicating that a figure had appeared in the accounts of previous historians or other authors. Dionysius introduced ‘a certain Meton’ (Mevtwn ti") so that we would not confuse him with his Athenian namesake and appended kai; aujto;" Taranti`no" to make the point absolutely clear.40 Appian adopted the same strategy so that he could alter the character of Philonides, as he did with ‘a certain Philocharis’. With multiple Philonides at Taras, Appian’s did not have to be a drunk. He was a joker and an amusing character (ajnh;r geloi`o" kai; filoskwvmmwn), again apparently only one of many to judge by the amount of jesting and laughter taking place in the theatre. The two words geloi`o" and filoskwvmmwn, the latter another pun suggestive of fivlo" kwvmwn or ‘friend of the revels’, acknowledge two key aspects of Dionysius’ account, the references to old and phlyax comedy, and the stereotype of Tarentines as symposia-loving.41 Only the Greeks in the theatre seemed to appreciate Philonides’ sense of humor, however. Athenaeus (12.522e), the source of this information, dismissed these items with their diaphanous weave as suitable only for women in his day, and by implication the same should have applied to the fourth century: ejfovroun dev, fhsivn, kai; parufh;n diafanh` pavnte", oi|" nu`n oJ tw`n gunaikw`n aJbruvnetai bivo". 40 The original Philonides was just ‘one’ of the guys hanging around the parodos (D. H. 19.5). 41 On Dionysius’ influence on later authors including Plutarch, Josephus, and Appian, see Gabba, Dionysius and the History of Archaic Rome 213–6. 39

100

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

Not ‘full of yesterday’s drink’, the jester perpetrated the same insult as his Dionysian counterpart: Postoumivw/ tw`/ th`" presbeiva" hJgoumevnw/ proselqw;n, ajpestravfh te kai; ejpikuvya" th;n ejsqh`ta ajnesuvrato th;n eJautou` kai; tou` presbeutou` kathschmovnhsen. Philonides approached Postumius, the leader of the embassy, both turned around and, once he had bent over, lifted up his own garment, and soiled that of the ambassador.

The formulation is shorter and vaguer than that of Dionysius except for the fact that Appian explained what his predecessor meant by ‘having arranged himself in a manner most shameful to see’ (schmativsa" eJauto;n wJ" ai[sciston ojfqh`nai). Philonides turned around and bent over (ajpestravfh te kai; ejpikuvya") before lifting up his garment. Aristophanes used both words in the context of preparation for anal penetration.42 Dionysius had said that Postumius faced about to display the offended garment and to reprimand Philonides. In Appian, the legate never turned around to express his indignation, thus obviating any implications about the Roman’s motives, not that they were ever in question. The idea to have Philonides strike such a pose might well have come from Dionysius’ description of Thais who prostituted his beauty among boys. For the insult itself, Appian chose the verb kathschmovnhsen, far more vague than the kateskevdase of Dionysius and the urina respersus of Valerius. This has led at least one modern scholar to conclude that Philonides ‘walked over to Postumius, turned his back on the Roman, bent over, lifted up his own robe behind, and shit (sic) on Postumius’ toga’.43 Not only does this seem anatomically implausible, it is an unnecessary stretch of the imagination. Although Appian described the physical posture more graphically, there is no reason to conclude that he deviated radically from previous accounts. Philonides used the same substance seen in Dionysius and Valerius to foul the Roman’s toga. Given the rather prominent phalloi seen in the padded costumes of Greek comedy and the context of the passage, we can imagine the stance adapted by Philonides would have presented no particular problems while conjuring up a truly ridiculous image very much in keeping with a comic character on the stage. We might also wonder if Appian had seen such costumes either in the theatre or, much less likely, on something like the phlyax vases of the fourth century, not that visual evidence of this kind was necessary.44 Plenty of written information existed concerning the com-

Henderson, The Maculate Muse 180, 183. Brauer, Taras 124. Cf. A. S. Bradford, With Arrow, Sword and Spear (2001) 170. 44 For examples, see Taplin, Comic Angels passim. 42 43

A Certain Philonides: The Reproach Lover Returns?

101

edies of Aristophanes and others and literary evidence would have been the historian’s primary tool in reconstructing the past.45 After Philonides soiled the Roman ambassador’s toga, the Tarentines, amused by what they had seen, continued to make jokes as if at a comedy (kai; to; me;n qevatron e[paizen wJ" ejpi; geloivw)/ , or as if at a funny character, the implication being that Philonides in reality was not nor ought the situation to have been. Postumius then had a dramatic moment of his own when he held forth the soiled article (proteivna" to; memolusmevnon) before delivering a curt rebuke. Yet again, we find that what was vague in Dionysius has gained precision in Appian. Rather than just ‘having shown the offended article’ (th;n uJbrismevnhn ejsqh`ta deiknuv") to the spectators in the theatre, Postumius now held it out so that all could see the stain. The change not only helps us to imagine the scene, we can sense a certain revulsion as the legate extended his arm to hold the garment away from his body. When he reproached the Tarentines, ‘ejkplunei`t j’, e[fh, ‘tou`to ai{mati pollw`/, toiouvtoi" ajreskovmenoi gevlwsin’ (‘you will wash this out’, he said, ‘with much of your blood, you who delight in this kind of laughter’), Appian altered the speech, which, intentionally or not, more accurately reflects the idealized prose of an upstanding man of the middle Republic.46 We do not anticipate that historians would repeat the speeches composed by their predecessors verbatim, even the truly memorable.47 As Appian did all along, he simplified Dionysius’ language, here to true artistic effect. Postumius spoke only once, not three times. Men of the Republic were of few words. He did not address Philonides directly. There was no command to laugh as long as possible, no threat that the Tarentines would weep long after. Gone were the references to phlyax plays. Postumius did not need any time to gather his thoughts or to come up with a final threat to Lefkowitz, HSCP 64 (1959) 151, and Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian 79–119. 46 Since rhetorical education stressed the importance of characterization (e.g. Quint. Inst. 10.1.101; Lucian Hist. Conscr. 58), it is not unreasonable to assert that Appian approached the task with the intent and the requisite tools. Certainly, the speeches of figures like Appius Claudius Caecus (Sam. 3.10.2) and Fabricius (Sam. 3.10.4) when compared with those in Plutarch and Dionysius present simpler, more direct language. The speech of Appius takes up about half of the space it does in Plutarch (Pyrrh. 19.1– 3), while that of Fabricius is reduced to one brief quote and a sentence reported in indirect discourse as compared with the four lengthy chapters of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (19.15–19.8). Plutarch (Pyrrh. 20.3–4) gave Fabricius three short utterances. At the same time, Appian was ‘fond of reproducing snippets of conversation or brief remarks that hardly constitute full-fledged orations’, Gowing, The Triumviral Narratives of Appian and Cassius Dio 227 n. 6. 47 Saller, G & R, 2nd ser., 27.1 (1980) 69–83, and Gowing, The Triumviral Narratives of Appian and Cassius Dio 226. 45

102

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

vex the Greeks. Appian stressed the idea of how the Tarentines would pay for their outrageous behavior by placing the imperative first (ejkplunei`t j), where Dionysius offered pollw`/ th;n ejsqh`ta tauvthn ai{mati ejkplunei`te. The mention of blood, and lots of it, provides a vivid image, but the catchall word for garment (th;n ejsqh`ta) is not as evocative as Appian’s ‘stained article’ (to; memolusmevnon), the antecedent of the tou`to which one finds after the command. Since we have been told shortly before that this was a purple-bordered garment, the demonstrative pronoun serves as a final reminder of the vestment and its condition before we turn to the shedding of the Tarentines’ blood. Dionysius had emphasized the quantity of the red fluid to be lost by beginning Postumius’ final warning with ‘much’ (pollw`/). Perhaps the resultant hyperbaton, the second use in the speech, sounded a little too rhetorically polished. Appian, by placing the adjective after the noun it modifies (ai{mati pollw`/), eliminated this little problem, although he apparently could not bear to have two dative noun-adjective pairs in a row. After ‘much blood’, Postumius left the Tarentines literally delighting in such laughter (toiouvtoi" ajreskovmenoi gevlwsin). The participle falls between the demonstrative pronoun and the noun, an artistic effect which spared Appian and Postumius any subordination in his terse pronouncement. The episode ended with the return to Rome. The ambassador displayed the outrage, unwashed from the garment (oJ de; Postouvmio" th;n u{brin, ejk th`" ejsqh`to" oujk ajpopluvna", ejpevdeixe R J wmaivoi"), a ridiculous detail in and of itself. Dionysius’ embassy sailed away after prophesying a bloody war and many tears for the southern Italian Greeks. Upon arrival in Rome, they showed (D. H. 19.6) the garment of Postumius as evidence that they spoke the truth (th;n ejsqh`ta tou` Postomivou pivstin tw`n lovgwn parecovmenoi), a less dramatic scene than having the insulted party show not the garment, but the outrage itself, preserved on the long journey from Taras back to Rome. True to form, Appian omitted much of what Dionysius said about the circumstances following Postumius’ report, the public debate at Rome about the proper course of action and the enumeration of potential opponents they faced. In his version, we find the consul Aemilius fighting the Samnites right after Postumius showed the Romans his unwashed garment. It is no surprise that the people were incensed at the treatment suffered by their representatives (3.7.3: kai; oJ dh`mo" ajganaktw`n), language which recalls the reaction of Dionysius’ populus (19.6: ajganakthvsew" de; megavlh" ejx aJpavntwn genomevnh"). The Augustan author related that the Romans voted for war and then the text breaks off. After three fragments, the narrative resumed with the debate at Taras. Then Meton appeared to deliver his warning. No such figure interrupted the decision-making in Appian.

A Certain Philonides: The Reproach Lover Returns?

103

After the Romans saw Postumius’ toga, they ordered Aemilius to invade the territory of the Tarentines and to repeat Postumius’ terms. If the Tarentines did not agree, he was to attack, but one cannot help noticing how the Romans continued to show restraint like models of gravitas, severitas, and just behavior. This exceeded the requirements of fetial procedure for a bellum iustum, the thirty-day waiting period having undoubtedly lapsed before the instructions of the Roman people reached the consul. Now it was Aemilius as general, not senatorial legate, who held something out to the Tarentines and this time they did not laugh because they still saw his army (oJ me;n dh; tavde prouvteine toi`" Tarantivnoi" oiJ de; oujk ejgevlwn e[ti th;n stratia;n oJrw`nte"), rather than a former consul displaying a stain (proteivna" to; memolusmevnon). Appian effectively redeployed the verb proteivnw to briefly evoke the Postumius scene, as Aemilius, at last, got a proper reaction from the Greeks. The repetition of the image recalls the way Dionysius modelled the Meton episode on that of the legate in the theatre, although obviously not to the point of developing a parallel narrative. Appian shifted immediately to the Greeks’ discussion about how to deal with a very real physical threat, no longer just demands. The Tarentines were equally divided in their opinions (ajll j ejgivgnonto tai`" gnwvmai" ajgcwvmaloi) as to what they should do, but this vague formulation does not turn out as one might expect. Rather than being pro- or anti-war, in favor of seeking help or not, or even split along the lines of those favorable to Rome and those hostile, the schism occurred in a way which resembled Plutarch’s description of the beginning of the war. Some were at a loss as to what to do while others had definite ideas until an unnamed man spoke to them (mevcri ti" ajporou`s i kai; bouleuomevnoi" e[fh). Appian avoided identifying the two groups more specifically although it is tempting to assume that the former corresponds to the dêmos and the latter to the demagogues. Then again, the lack of specificity in bouleuomevnoi" supports the idea of confusion and indecision. Those not at a loss did not have to agree about what they thought was best. In the midst of this chaos, the lone anti-Meton counselled summoning allies and Pyrrhus to lead the war effort. His view prevailed unopposed, a far cry from the debate seen in Dionysius and Plutarch. Without a Meton, the only things to fear were the Romans, a lack of leadership, and one consequence of defeat or concession, the loss of liberty, all of which the speaker pointed out. Symposia furnished no argument and found no audience. In composing his narrative of these events, Appian did not draw upon all of the same stereotypes as Polybius, Dionysius, Valerius, Plutarch, and Florus. Postumius’ treatment involved comic references, but no explicit allusions to phlyax plays, and one can understand why Appian did this. He needed his work to resonate with that of his predecessors, but not to copy

104

Chapter 5: The Livian Tradition?: Appian

them. While Valerius Maximus and Florus certainly had a flair for the dramatic and the epic nature of the events involved, they and the Periochae constructed no narratives around individual Tarentines, nor did the idea of mockery or laughter find a place. These came from Dionysius and it was his work above all which Appian summarized, supplemented, corrected, and explicated, not unlike what we have seen in Plutarch and the others. Dionysius was the Augustan historian who served as a key source for these episodes rather than Livy who did not include Philocharis, the name more than likely Appian’s invention, and whom we would not expect to have mentioned Philonides or Meton, or to have referred to phlyax plays.48 In fact, Philocharis and Philonides would not appear again in any later authors, although the same was not true for Meton. Appian’s omission of the pretend reveller meant that his-story was ready for revision. All that was needed was the right author to come along.

A. Scafuro, Helios 16.2 (1986) 119–42, has argued that the comic in Livy is unusual, although not alien to Roman literature of the first century B.C. The borrowing from comedy which she sees occurs in diction, plot stratagems, stereotypical characterizations, and a domestic plot with a happy ending, 125–7. It must be said, however, that the focus of the study, the Bacchanalian affair in 186 B.C., offers little that is actually funny. On comedy in Roman literature in the first century, see K. A. Geffcken, Comedy in the Pro Caelio (1973), and Wiseman, Roman Drama and Roman History. A useful study would analyze common scenes in Livy and Dionysius looking for innovation and the comic. 48

CHAPTER 6 CASSIUS DIO: NEW EXEMPLA AND METON’S FINAL APPEARANCE Around the beginning of the third century A.D., Cassius Dio started work on his history of the Roman world. Like Appian, and the others, he sought to say something new concerning the outbreak of the Tarentine War, apparent from the first two surviving passages. To what degree this meant changes in style rather than in content will be of interest here.1 Dio produced more of an introduction than what we have seen thus far. The Romans (9.39.1–2) were aware that the Tarentines and some mysterious others prepared for war against them (puqomevnwn tw`n R J wmaivwn wJ" Taranti`noi kai; a[lloi tine;" povlemon ajrtuvousi kat j aujtw`n).2 In the next fragment (9.39.3), we find that ‘the Tarentines, although they themselves caused the war, were nevertheless sheltered from fear’ (oiJ Taranti`noi, kaivper to;n povlemon aujtoi; paraskeuavsante", o{mw" ejn skevph/ tou` fovbou h\san). Obviously, in Dio’s view the Greeks foolishly provoked war with Rome. In order to understand what goes unsaid here, it helps to notice that the last clause, a striking phrase, Dio borrowed from Herodotus (1.143). The exemplum offered him more than just vocabulary; it set up a stunning analogy. The Milesians were a wealthy people ‘sheltered from fear’ of Cyrus and the Persians (oiJ Milhvs ioi me;n h\san ejn skevph/ tou` fovbou). The reasons for this were manifold. They had made a treaty with Cyrus and their islanders had little to fear. The Persians were not sailors and the Phoenicians were not yet subject to Persian authority, living far from its capital of Susa. In 499, the Milesians Histiaeus and Aristagoras fomented the Ionian revolt. Five years later, the Persians arrived at Milêtos, sacked the city, and reduced its people to slavery, the subject of Phrynichus’ all too successful tragedy (Hdt. 6.18–21). The parallels with Taras were obvious. Cf. Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio 28: ‘the essential thing was not the discovery of new facts but the retelling of known facts in a certain style. Not only the literary taste of his own age but also other more elementary considerations, the time available for composition and the intended length and scope of the work, shaped what a historian wrote at any given point’. 2 On the circumstances and the dating, see Torelli, RRF 89. 1

106

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

The Tarentines were wealthy and we recall that Polybius blamed the arrogance that resulted from their prosperity for causing the war with Rome. Authors from Dionysius to Appian appear to have attached the blame more specifically to their demagogues, who were no better or successful than the Milesian tyrants. In both cases, the leaders of one city-state organized resistance against an empire which would ultimately prove unsuccessful. Taras itself was remote from Rome, its acropolis easily defended.3 Meanwhile, the Romans, like the Persians, were not sailors. Not much later in Dio’s narrative they would demonstrate that they were better off on land against the Tarentines. As to whether the Greeks had made some sort of treaty in the face of Roman aggression, there was the testimony of Appian’s Philocharis, even if the demagogue’s terms strain credulity. The Romans took Taras, but after ten years, not five. Better remembered is the Roman sack of the city in 209 when 30,000 slaves were led away, along with works of art and, allegedly, 83,000 pounds of gold.4 Nevertheless, Florus (Epit. 1.13.27) recorded the rich booty carted away by the Romans for a triumph in 272, ‘gold, purple, statues, paintings, and Tarentine delights’. A tragedian would have known better than to describe either one. Cassius Dio, following Appian’s lead, opted more for comedy in narrating the war’s opening. The effect of ‘truthfulness’ he achieved in the same manner as Dionysius and the others, by showing the breadth of his learning. Readers who caught the reference to Herodotus could meditate on the parallels between the Tarentines and the Milesians and why the Greeks did not hesitate to initiate hostilities. For those who had no time to pause, who perhaps heard Dio’s work read aloud, or who might have missed the analogy, the accusation that the Tarentines caused the war and were sheltered from fear led to an elaborate explanation of why this was the case: oiJ ga;r R J wmai`oi hj/sqavnonto me;n ta; prattovmena uJp j aujtw`n, ouj mevntoi kai; prosepoiou`nto dia; ta; parovnta sfivsi. meta; de; dh; tou`to nomivsante" gou`n h] diafugei`n h] pavntw" ge lanqavnein, o{ti mhd j e[gklhma ejlavmbanon, ejpi; plei`on ejxuvbrisan kai; a[konta" auJtoi`" tou;" RJ wmaivou" ejxepolevmwsan, w{ste kai; ejpalhqeu`sai o{ti kai; aiJ eujpragivai, ejpeida;n e[xw tou` summevtrou tisi; gevnwntai, sumforw`n sfisin ai[tiai kaqivstantai: proagagou`sai ga;r aujtou;" ej" to; e[kfron (oujde; ga;r ejqevlei to; sw`fron tw`/ cauvnw/ sunei`nai) ta; mevgista sfavllousin, w{sper pou kai; ejkei`noi uJperanqhvsante" ajntivpalon th`" ajselgeiva" kakopragivan ajntevlabon. The Romans recognized what was being done by them, but of course pretended they did not because of their circumstances. Then after this, the Tarentines, having reckoned at least either on getting away with it or on escaping notice entirely, During the Second Punic War, a Roman garrison managed to hold out from 212 until the city was retaken by Fabius Maximus in 209, see Brauer, Taras 187–95. Appian (Hann. 7.6.33) gives the number of Romans in the acropolis as 5000. 4 Brauer, Taras 200 n. 31. 3

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

107

because they did not receive a complaint, behaved all the more outrageously and waged war against the Romans, even though they were unwilling, so as to verify also that even success, whenever someone enjoys it beyond measure, establishes the reasons for their misfortune. Its attainment, leading them into folly (for wisdom does not like the company of the conceited) brings about the downfall of the greatest, just as they too, having become excessively prosperous, received misfortune commensurate with their licentiousness.

Dio began with more practical analysis. Naturally, the Romans knew about Greek preparation for conflict, although of what this consisted or how they were able to learn about it, we cannot say. A distinct possibility is that Dio constructed his narrative blaming the Tarentines for attacking before they actually did so, an example of hysteron-proteron, a rhetorical strategy put to very effective use. Like his predecessors, he too, as we shall see, drew a contrast between the moral rectitude of the non-aggressor and the reprehensible arrogance of the Greeks throughout the episodes which contributed to the outbreak of war. His claim that the Romans were aware of Tarentine plots carried out a complex function. It allayed any audience member’s indignation, anxiety, or fears by portraying the burgeoning imperial power as something verging on omniscient or at the least remarkably tolerant. The notion of invincibility inherent in this depiction suggested an inevitable outcome rather than accurately representing the uncertainty of the historical situation. A little exaggeration of Roman might and influence is perfectly understandable for a man who first came to Rome around A.D. 180/1 and who saw the empire survive numerous challenges until his death, possibly around A.D. 231. Without a complete account to examine, we cannot be certain if Dio ever related real undertakings which the Tarentines were confident would have had no negative repercussions for them. In part, the Greeks ‘were sheltered from fear’ due to Roman inaction because of concurrent difficulties (dia; ta; parovnta). The prepositional phrase serves as a minor test of whether we were paying attention to our reading.5 Unfortunately, his audience then was in a much better position to appreciate what obstacles confronted the Romans c. 282 B.C. Only one fragment remains for us which serves to cause more problems than it solves. Dio (9.39.1–2) had explained that the Romans faced revolts and trouble with the Etruscans, Umbrians, and Gauls before the onset of the Pyrrhic War: Florus (Epit. 1.12), before his narration of the Bellum Tarentinum, related the wars fought by the Romans against the Etruscans, Samnites, and Gauls. Plutarch (Pyrrh. 13.2) merely says the Romans and the Tarentines were at war. The Periocha of Book Twelve spoke of troubles with the Senones, Samnites, Lucanians, Bruttians, and Etruscans (mentioned by Dionysius, 19.6.2). Fragments of Appian (Sam. 3.6.2) mention only the Senones and Etruscans. 5

108

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

puqomevnwn tw`n RJ wmaivwn wJ" Taranti`noi kai; a[lloi tine;" povlemon ajrtuvousi katÊÊ j aujtw`n, kai; presbeuth;n Fabrivkion ej" ta;" povlei" ta;" summacivda", o{pw" mhde;n newterivswsi, steilavntwn, ejkei`novn te sunevlabon, kai; pevmyante" pro;" tou;" Turshnou;" kai; O j mbrikou;" kai; Galavta" sucnou;" aujtw`n, tou;" me;n paracrh`ma tou;" d j ouj pollw`/ u{steron, prosapevsthsan. When the Romans learnt that the Tarentines and other peoples readied war against them, they sent Fabricius to allied cities so that they would not revolt. They both arrested him and, sending to the Etruscans, Umbrians and Gauls, caused many of them to revolt too, some immediately and others not long afterward.

The loss of intervening narrative between this first fragment of Book Nine and the second which appears to refer back to it leaves much unexplained and raises chronological concerns. Fabricius’ embassy to the allied cities and his arrest are only attested here. Consequently, they should be viewed with some suspicion.6 Because of the conflicting evidence for this period, his mission has been variously dated from 285 to 283.7 Of particular interest is to establish both the identity of the allies who seized the Roman representative and when they summoned the Etruscans, Umbrians, and Gauls to revolt. At least one scholar has assumed this was the Tarentines, although it is difficult to justify the argument on the grounds that one could hardly call the hêgemôn of the Italiote League a Roman ally prior to the conclusion of the Pyrrhic War.8 Furthermore, the Romans would have needed to defeat the Tarentines in order for the latter to have revolted.9 Meanwhile, much of Fabricius was remembered for his victory over the Bruttians and Lucanians at Thurii (D. H. 19.13, 20.4; V. Max. 1.8.6) and for relieving Rhegion of its brutal Campanian garrison (D. H. 20.5.4–5; App. Sam. 3.9.3), for his embassy to Pyrrhus (Cic. Brut. 55 and Sen. 43; Liv. Per. 13; D. H. 19.13–18.8; Luc. 3.160; Plu. Pyrrh. 20–1; D. C. 9.40.29–38), for warning the Epirote about a plan to poison him (Cic. Off. 1.40, 3.86; Liv. Per. 13; Sen. Ep. 120.6; Fron. Str. 4.4.2; Gel. 3.8), for defeating Pyrrhus (Verg. A. 6.844; Col. 1. pr. 14), for expelling Cornelius Rufinus from the senate for owning too much silver plate (Cic. de Orat. 2.268; Liv. Per. 14; D. H. 20.13; V. Max. 2.9.4; Juv. 9.142; Gel. 4.8, 17.21), and for his poverty and refusal to accept money (Cic. Parad. 12– 13, 48 and Tusc. 3.56; Sen. Con. 2.1.8; Sen. Dial. 1.3.4 and Ep. 98.13, 120.6, 19; Plin. Nat. 33.153; Luc. 10.152; Fron. Str. 4.3.2; Quint. Inst. 7.2.38; Mart. 11.5.8; Apul. Apol. 18; Gel. 1.14). 7 The events are dated to 283 B.C. by Broughton, MRR 188, accepted by Torelli, RRF 89, who provides references to earlier opinions. Urso, TXS 113, favors the same date. Lomas, RWG 51, advocates 285, as did Wuilleumier, Tarente 101, on the basis of Livy’s Periochae. 8 F. Münzer, RE vol. 6, col. 1931–2, noted Niese’s skepticism that the Tarentines succeeded in getting the Etruscans and Gauls to fight the Romans and considered the story Roman invention, Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten vol. 2 28 n.1. Cf. Urso, TXS 114 n. 4. 9 No evidence of such a favorable conflict exists and we have Pausanias’ statement (1.11.7) that ‘no Greek waged war with the Romans before Pyrrhus’ ( R J wmaivoi" de; 6

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

109

what Dio related here better fits the circumstances of the Gallic Wars which began two years before the Bellum Tarentinum. Livy (Per. 12) and Appian (Sam. 3.6) agree that the Romans fought the Senones before the naval engagement with the Tarentines. The latter of these two authors also shares interesting similarities with the passage of Dio above. According to Appian, the Gauls received Roman ambassadors whom they executed. The unidentified legates were to complain about the violation of treaty terms; the Senones had been serving as mercenaries against the Romans. In retaliation for the deaths of their representatives, a consul, Cornelius (P. Cornelius Dolabella) devastated their territory while his colleague Domitius (Cn. Domitius Calvinus Maximus) defeated a coalition of Gauls and Etruscans.10 Fabricius played no role in these proceedings, but we do have a Roman ambassador, more than one actually, sent to what could be interpreted as allies who rebelled. The trouble is that the Gauls slew these men and could hardly have urged themselves to revolt. Luckily, Polybius provides some assistance towards unraveling these difficulties.11 According to his chronology, the Senones defeated the Romans at Arretium where the Roman commander L. Caecilius Metellus Denter was killed (2.19.8). To ransom their prisoners (2.19.9), the Romans sent ambassadors whom the Gauls killed thereby violating a treaty (paraspondhvsante" ejpaneivlonto tou;" prevsbei"). Dio uses ejpanairevw to mean ‘choose’ (45.34.5), ‘take up’ (46.7.1, 56.6.6), and ‘take away’ (72.4.6), the last of which need not necessarily mean kill, although the word has that signification in Polybius and in other authors such as Appian (e.g. BC 4.15).12 It is possible, however unlikely, that Dio, or perhaps one of his Latin sources, chose to interpret ejpaneivlonto as meaning that the Gauls violated the treaty by ‘taking the Romans away’, in other words arresting rather than murdering them. oujd°eva Puvrrou provteron polemhvsanta i[smen {Ellhna) which could be broadly interpreted to include the naval engagement. Notably, when the Tarentines did attack the Romans, they did so in warships, which enjoyed a decided superiority. 10 Broughton, MRR 188. 11 For the problems that arise as a result of following the Polybian narrative, see Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria 78–84, and Torelli, RRF 80–9. Cf. Cornell, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 381: ‘The events of the Gallic War of 284/3 B.C. are difficult to reconstruct in detail’. 12 The passage concerns the victims of Commodus, Claudius Pompeianus, Lucilla, and Crispina. Dio uses forms of ajpovllumi, ajpokteivnw, and ajnairevw to indicate actual killings. In Appian (Sam. 3.6.1), Bitomaris hacked the Romans into many pieces and scattered their remains (katavtemen ej" polla; kai; dievrriyen), alleging his own father had been killed by the Romans (ajnhv/rhto uJpo; RJ wmaivwn). This dismemberment could be another example of Appian’s inventio.

110

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

The other difficulty, that the Gauls could not summon themselves to revolt, could have arisen from confusion about which group the Romans fought. While Appian and Livy speak only of the Senones, Polybius also refers to the Boii. In his version of events, after the death of Caecilius, M’. Curius Dentatus was appointed to fight the Senones. At the successful conclusion of this campaign, the Boii feared they would suffer the same fate and called upon the Etruscans to help them (2.20.1–3). These two armies were defeated by the Romans, possibly under the consul P. Cornelius Dolabella, the same commander who defeated the Senones according to Livy and Appian.13 Dio was confronted with two conflicting traditions involving two different groups of Gauls, one of whom clearly summoned help from neighboring Etruscans, all of whom rose up at different times, the Boii once they saw the fate of Dentatus’ opponents. His phrase ta;" povlei" ta;" summacivda" allows him to avoid contradicting Livy and Appian regarding the confusion over the identity of the Gauls while following the outline of Polybius’ chronology which preserved the revolt of two groups, some immediately (paracrh`ma) and others afterward (u{steron).14 As for the Umbrians whom Dio mentioned, their inclusion presents no particular problems given their proximity to both the Etruscans and the Gauls with whom they had been in league before, most prominently in the war which culminated at Sentinum in 295 (Liv. 10.21, 27, 31.13).15 The Tarentines, meanwhile, were not involved nor do any other sources give that impression. This does not explain why Fabricius appears in the narrative, but by making him the Roman representative to the Senones who obviously survived the ordeal thanks to his arrest, Dio could have been following an

Broughton, MRR 189, thinks that the Roman commander at Lake Vadimon was Q. Aemilius Papus, consul in 282. Cf. Torelli, RRF 86-92. 14 Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria 80–1: ‘some sources give Dolabella as the successful commander in the battle against the Senones, but that was as a result of what happened at Vadimon. Polybius says that it was the Boii who lost the Vadimon battle, while Florus and Appian make it clear that they thought it was the Senones. They simply failed to make the relatively subtle distinction between different varieties of Gauls that was familiar to Polybius’. Both Polybius (2.19.10–13) and Appian (Sam. 3.6.3–4) refer to poleis of the Senones. 15 Near the beginning of Florus’ narrative (Epit. 1.12) of the Bellum Etruscum Samniticum Gallicum, one finds the Umbri, ‘still whole at that time’ (in id tempus intacti) and a very ancient people of Italy (antiquissimus Italiae populus). Given that one only encounters the names of the Roman generals who fought at Sentinum, Fabius Maximus and Decius, and not the name of the site where the battle took place, this passage is truly a test of one’s knowledge of Roman history. Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus and P. Decius Mus were consuls thirteen years before hostilities with the Tarentines broke out. 13

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

111

alternate tradition or conflating the experience of a man later famous for his diplomacy and the embassies in question.16 Presumably, Dio went on to relate Fabricius’ victories over the Samnites, Bruttians, and Lucanians in 282, the same opponents he defeated in 279/8 (Liv. Per. 13) while his colleague Q. Aemilius Papus continued operations in Etruria, quite possibly against the Etruscans and Boii.17 These could very well be the same as the campaigns seen in the Periocha of Livy’s twelfth book which depicted the Romans defeating the Samnites, Bruttians, Lucanians, and Etruscans after the naval battle against the Tarentines. The absence of Gauls could be explained through the notice that war had been declared against them although no conclusion of the hostilities is mentioned. To add to the potential confusion, in 281 L. Aemilius Barbula (D. H. 19.6) was concerned about the Samnites, Lucanians, Bruttians, and Etruscans and his colleague Q. Marcius Philippus celebrated a triumph over the Etruscans.18 In other words, making sense of the reports of so many wars against the same foes at roughly the same time that hostilities began with the Tarentines was no mean feat. To return to our immediate concern, what all this evidence shows is that under such circumstances, the consuls’ preoccupation with subduing non-Greeks was one more reason the Tarentines were ‘sheltered from fear’. The Greeks were also not afraid because the Romans made no complaints about their preparations for war, a situation which would change drastically when the Tarentines, no longer satisfied with planning, ‘acted all the more hybristically’ and attacked the unwilling Romans (ejpi; plei`on ejxuvbrisan kai; a[konta" aujtoi`" tou;" R J wmaivou" ejxepolevmwsan). Apparently, the very idea of maintaining independence from Rome was an outrage from Dio’s perspective. Before turning to the combat and subsequent events, he was apparently unsatisfied with these reasons for the lack of fear and offered a broader theory regarding the origins of the kind of hybris that affected an entire polis. Since the Tarentines had not moved beyond the stage of plotting, Dio’s explanation embraced general grounds which ought to sound very familiar. The argument set forth the notion that prosperity, when it exceeds reason16 Fabricius appears in the excerpts of the De Virtutibus et Vitiis (V. 21, p. 586) and the De Sententiis (M. 78 and 79 p. 166) which are considered fragments of Dio’s eighth book fr. 40.1 and fr. 36.33. Both concern Fabricius and Rufinus, the same Rufinus it would appear whom Fabricius, as censor, expelled from the senate in 275, see above p. 108 n. 6. Furthermore, the references to war and money better fit Fabricius’ embassy to Pyrrhus to ransom Roman prisoners after the battle of Heraclea. 17 See Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria 81–2, and Torelli, RRF 90–5, 176–91. Cf. Broughton, MRR 189. 18 See Broughton, MRR 190.

112

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

able measure, establishes the causes for misfortune (o{ti kai; aiJ eujpragivai, ejpeida;n e[xw tou` summevtrou tisi; gevnwntai, sumforw`n sfisin ai[t iai kaqivstantai). We have heard of Tarentine wealth before from a number of sources. It was this very prosperity which led people into senselessness (proagagou`sai ga;r aujtou;" ej" to; e[kfron), primarily because of the negative effect success had on behavior, both individual and collective. They became arrogant, and wisdom did not like the company of the conceited (oujde; ga;r ejqevlei to; sw`fron tw`/ cauvnw/ sunei`nai). The mention of wisdom (to; sw`fron) reminds us of Ennius, Dionysius, and Plutarch who attributed a lack of it to Pyrrhus and the Tarentines. Without this essential quality, success resulted in the overthrow of even the greatest (ta; mevgista sfavllousin). Tarentine success set off a chain reaction. Their arrogance resulted in licentiousness which met with equal misfortune (w{sper pou kai; ejkei`noi uJperanqhvsante" ajntivpalon th`" ajselgeiva" kakopragivan ajntevbalon). In other words, we have encountered the anacyclosis seen in Polybius (8.24), Strabo (6.3.4), and Plutarch (Pyrrh. 13.2, 16.2). For the specific misfortune/ill-doing (kakopragivan), a wonderfully ambiguous word, Dio had a broader array of authorities available who narrated the Tarentines’ misdeeds as well as their city’s downfall. This all started with the arrival of the Roman fleet in 282. Dio very quickly leaves the learned reader in some confusion. For the Roman naval commander, he named (9.39.4) a Lucius Valerius, rather than the Cornelius seen in Appian (Louvkio" Oujalevrio" nauarcw`n te RJ wmaivoi" kai; staleiv" poi uJp j aujtw`n), dispatched to an unnamed destination by an unspecified them. The next fragment will make the mission clear. Without testimony earlier than Appian or Dio, it is impossible to determine why the latter changed the nauarch’s name or if it is simply a mistake.19 Whatever the name of the commander, Cornelius or Valerius, the Romans ordered (9.39.5) their duumvir to Taras (Louvkio" ajpestavlh para; R J wmaivwn ej" Tavranta), something not claimed by Florus or Appian, although Dionysius Wuilleumier, Tarente 102 n. 5, thinks that Dio has confused this individual with the losing general at Heraclea. Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War 23–4, argues neither Cornelius nor Valerius is correct and he imagines that the Valerius is the handiwork of Valerius Antias, a difficult conjecture. Roman records are likely to have recorded the death of a man prominent enough to hold such a position, particularly when he died in the battle which started such a long and difficult war. Little is known of P. Decius Mus, the consul of 279, but Cicero ( fin. 2.61; Tusc. 1.89) says he died at Ausculum, a story not believed, in part, on the authority of Dio (10.43), see Skutsch, The ‘Annales’ of Q. Ennius 353–5. It is certainly possible that Dio was reading Valerius Antias here, but just as likely that Dio either did not like the Cornelius in Appian and corrected it based on information found elsewhere or that he suspected Appian of inventing the information and thus felt free to change it. 19

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

113

had used similar language for the dispatch of L. Postumius to Taras ( {Oti Postovmio" prevsbu" ejstavlh pro;" Tarantivnou"). The confusion could be attributed to the Byzantine excerptors of both Dionysius and Dio who would have encountered two Lucii in relatively close proximity, Lucius Postumius and Lucius Valerius. As for the order to visit Taras, Dio might have objected to Appian’s description of a Roman squadron engaged in mere sightseeing. In his account, the Roman ships approached at the time of the Dionysia (oiJ de; Taranti`noi Dionuvs ia a[gonte") and one wonders how Dio was able to be so precise. Appian said nothing about the circumstances of the Roman arrival or its location, only that Philocharis urged his fellow citizens to attack. According to Florus, the Tarentines were celebrating a festival in the theatre, but he did not specify which one. Only Dio stated the exact circumstances. His claim that one afternoon the citizens were sitting in the theatre intoxicated (kai; ejn tw`/ qeavtrw/ diakorei`" oi[nou to; deivlh" kaqhvmenoi) allows us to take the remark about the Dionysia with a grain of salt.20 Seeing the Romans approaching their polis, Dio’s Tarentines suspected that the Romans were sailing against them (plei`n ejpi; sfa`" aujto;n uJpotovphsan), in an act of piracy apparently, and attacked immediately out of anger and also persuaded by their drunkenness (kai; paracrh`ma di j ojrgh`", kaiv ti kai; th`" mevqh" aujtou;" ajnapeiqouvsh", ajntanhvcqhsan). Dio did not provide this information because he consulted a source which furnished the date or actual circumstances of the battle. He knew the passage of Plato’s Laws in which Megillus the Spartiate complained about the Tarentines’ excessive intoxication during the Dionysia. Doubtless, he perpetuated this stereotype just as his predecessors had done. It is otherwise hard to imagine how Greeks, ‘saturated with wine’ (diakorei`" oi[nou) and motivated by irrational anger and their drunkenness, managed to man their triremes and sail out, much less fall upon the Roman fleet. This is literally what Dio had the Tarentines do, or rather they fell upon Valerius, prospesovnte" aujtw`/. In addition to the sense of attack, the verb could mean dropping prostrate at the duumvir’s feet (LSJ s.v. prospivptw § III), but the intoxicated Greeks were no suppliants. Unfortunately, Valerius had no way of knowing this. Appian’s claim that the Romans were mere ‘sightseers’ on a voyage of inspection represented men of the Republic as idly passing their time. Dio corrected this image by elaborating on the idea of their innocence.21 As the duplicitous Tarentines ‘fell upon him’, Valerius neither raised a hand nor 20 Brauer, Taras 123, likes to imagine that the Tarentines were watching a play of Rhinthon. 21 Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 102.

114

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

did he actually suspect any hostility (mhvt e cei`ra" ajntairomevnw/ mhvq j o{lw" polevmiovn ti uJpotopoumevnw/), language that evokes Thucydides (3.32). During the Peloponnesian War, the Samians told the Spartan Alcidas that he would not free Greece fittingly, if he killed people who neither attacked nor were enemies (e[legon ouj kalw`" th;n E J llavda ejleuqerou`n aujtovn, eij a[ndra" dievfqeiren ou[te cei`ra" ajntairomevnou" ou[t e polemivou" …). Whereas Alcidas heeded what he recognized as good advice, the Tarentines were naturally oblivious to the reference nor did they succeed in keeping themselves or Magna Graecia independent of Roman rule. Dio’s portrait hardly cast them in a favorable light, yet it is not exactly flattering to the Romans either except for the contrast in behavior between the debauched festival attendees and Valerius’ sober devotion to his duty. Perhaps we are to imagine that the guileless duumvir and his squadron were overwhelmed by superior numbers, tricked into thinking the Tarentines were friendly until it was too late. This does not change the fact that they lost a naval engagement to a bunch of drunks. The entire narrative is very tongue in cheek and Dio continued to add embellishments. Rather than specify the exact number of Roman losses as Appian had done, he reported that the Tarentines sank Valerius and many others (katevdusan kajkei`non kai; a[llou" pollouv"). The vagueness lends itself easily to a more exaggerated idea of the action and of the number of ships sent to the bottom. Not surprisingly then, the Romans (9.39.6) took the news of their defeat hard, as was fitting in the author’s opinion (puqovmenoi de; tau`q j oiJ R J wmai`oi calepw`" mevn, w{sper ou\n eijkov", e[feron). They decided not to send an army against the Greeks immediately (ouj mh;n kai; strateu`sai ejp j aujtou;" eujqu;" hjqevlhsan), preferring an embassy. Evidently, fetial procedure was not so familiar to audiences of the third century A.D.22 Dio had previously said the Tarentines thought Roman inaction or silence meant they would get away with their outrages. The next sentence made clear to the audience that there was nothing to worry about. The Romans sent the embassy to avoid the appearance of keeping quiet about their losses and prevented the Greeks from becoming overly bold (prevsbei" mevntoi, tou` mh; katasesiwphkevnai dovxai kajk touvtou qrasutevrou" aujtou;" poih`sai, e[steilan). Strangely, the fates of any prisoners of war were not addressed as they were in Appian. Where this author liked to clarify the vague in what he had read, Dio offered explanations all the while promoting confidence in the Romans’ aims and abilities. When their delegation arrived at Taras, they were not well received nor did the Greeks send them away with an appropriate reply (kai; aujtou;" oiJ Dio (72.33.3) had heard a story about Marcus Aurelius declaring war by hurling a bloody spear housed in the temple of Bellona into enemy territory. 22

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

115

Taranti`noi oujc o{pw" kalw`" ejdevxanto, h] trovpon gev tina ejpithvdeion ajpokrinavmenoi ajpevpemyan). Before the Romans had spoken a word, the Tarentines immediately made objects of derision of ‘both everything else and their dress’ (ajll j eujquv", pri;n kai; lovgon sfivs i dou`nai, gevlwta ta; te a[lla kai; th;n stolh;n aujtw`n ejpoiou`nto). Dionysius and Appian made the Tarentines ridicule Postumius’ attempts to speak Greek. Now, the embassy’s entrance was itself comic and did little to dispel the idea that the Romans were not quiet. The legates did not have the opportunity to open their mouths, so dismissive was the atmosphere in the theatre. Or, perhaps better, these Greeks lacked the sophistication to appreciate much beyond the simplest humor. Just the Romans’ appearance sufficed to start them laughing, although Dio took the trouble to specify the actual targets. First there was the rather vague everything else (tav te a[lla), what we should know from the other two historiographers, but especially Appian who listed the demands of the fetials. Then, Dio, like the second-century author, turned to the Roman’s garb, the stolhv. Apparently, this was new enough material that Dio did not mind borrowing it, or better because it was new, although he did not focus on the purple border or repeat what Appian said. Enargeia was not his primary aim. Rather, we are told (9.39.7) the type of garment in question and why they had put it on: h\n de; hJ ajstikhv, h|/ kat j ajgora;n crwvmeqa: tauvthn ga;r ejkei`noi, ei[t j ou\n semnovthto" e{neka ei[te kai; dia; devo", i{n j e[k ge touvtou aijdesqw`sin aujtouv", ejstalmevnoi h\san. It was city wear, that which we use in the Forum. They were wearing this, whether for the sake of dignity or even for awe, so that the Greeks would respect them at least on account of it.

The ambassadors were wearing the toga, the folds of which had been put to good use in the famous declaration of war at Carthage (Plb. 3.33; Liv. 21.18.13–14). Unlike the Greeks, the Carthaginian senators did not laugh either at the toga or when Fabius told them he carried peace and war. They knew from arduous experience what the appearance of such a garment portended, not so the Tarentines. Too foolish to realize that they were not watching a comedy, but real ambassadors on a serious mission, they failed to appreciate the ‘august’ or ‘awe-inspiring’ character of the toga.23 Gath23 Dio’s own identification with the importance and symbolic value of the toga are reflected in his language. After pointing out that he himself wore it, he introduces the next sentence with the demonstrative referring to the garment, followed by varied syntax (disjunctive conjunctions, purpose clause, different prepositions) and language ending in a periphrastic verb form. While the latter with eijmiv is certainly known in Classical Greek (see Smyth 1961–2), the use of stevllw in this way is not and its position lends the whole a certain Latin feeling, consonant with Dio’s status as a Roman senator.

116

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

ered in bands of revellers, the Tarentines jeered at the Romans (kata; sustavsei" te ou\n kwmavzonte" ejtwvqazon). Of course, the legates arrived during yet another festival. Dio seems to have taken Strabo literally although he did not name the occasion this time (kai; ga;r kai; tovt e eJorth;n h\gon), nor did he specify the location of the celebration. We only know that the Tarentines, true to form, still did not demonstrate any wisdom and preferred acts of hybris to proper conduct (uJf j h|" kaivtoi mhdevna crovnon swfronou`nte" e[ti kai; ma`llon u{brizon). Dio repeated an old stereotype along with his earlier accusations which were about to find confirmation. Finally, a particular individual approached Postumius, bent over, relieved himself, and fouled the Roman’s clothing (kai; tevlo" prossta;" ti" tw`/ Postoumivw/ kai; kuvya" eJauto;n ejxevbale kai; th;n ejsqh`ta aujtou` ejkhlivdwvse). If this assailant was a drunk or a joker, the narrative does not say. The lone ti" identifying him might signify the notoriety of Philonides amongst the literati. Dio omitted the threats which angered Dionysius’s Tarentines and the res repetitas listed by Appian. In fact, the Romans never state their demands. These Greeks were so shameless, just the presence of the barbarians provoked them to licentiousness. Dio’s Tarentine did not turn around or lift up his garment as in Dionysius and Appian. He dropped the reference to Theophrastus’ obnoxious and shameless characters here. Nevertheless, this new exornatio contained clear references to the older ones. The brevity and certain words (ti", kuvya", th;n ejsqh`ta) recall Appian, especially the assailant bent over. Dionysius and Plutarch used ejkbavllw for the expulsion of the Romans and Meton from the theatre. Dio employed the verb reflexively of the Tarentine relieving himself (eJauto;n ejxevbale). When the nameless Greek fouled the ambassador’s garment (th;n ejsqh`ta aujtou` ejkhlivdwse), Dio managed to find a new verb although the expression is as vague as the kathschmovnhsen of Appian. The insult (9.39.8) produced an uproar from all present (qoruvbou de; ejpi; touvtw/ para; pavntwn tw`n a[llwn genomevnou) rather than Dionysius’ laughter or Appian’s jokes. The crowd praised the perpetrator as if he had done something wonderful (kai; to;n me;n ejpainouvntwn w{sper ti qaumasto;n eijrgasmevnon), a borrowing from Dionysius who had the more arrogant Tarentines applaud immediately after the insult, then laugh again as Postumius appealed to their sense of justice by displaying the offended article. Some of the spectators shared their approval and praised Philonides’ hybris (ejnivwn ejpicairovntwn kai; th;n u{brin ejpainouvntwn), which Dio toned down by having the Tarentines praise him rather than the act of arrogance itself. Not to be outdone, however, he related that the mob sang irreverent (ajselgh`) anapaests to the Romans, while clapping and walking in time (ej" de; dh; tou;" R J wmaivou" polla; kai; ajselgh` ajnavpaista ejn rJuqmw`/ tou` te krovtou

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

117

kai; th`" badivsew" aj/dovntwn …).24 This is the behavior one would expect of Roman soldiers during a triumphal procession (D. H. 7.72.11). The Tarentines might not have shouted out Fescennine verses. Nonetheless they unwittingly treated the Romans as triumphatores. Dio underscored the Tarentines’ lack of wisdom through this ironic omen of the eventual Roman victory. The theatre, however, was not an appropriate location for a triumph. We see why Dio has failed to mention where the insult took place. Postumius, treated like a triumphator, did not display or hold up his soiled toga; such a gesture would have been inappropriate, but not so the opportunity to break the physical silence the Romans had kept to this point. Amidst the din of laughter, he reprimanded the Tarentines using much the same language as the incarnation of Postumius in Dionysius, ‘gela`t e’, e[fh, ‘gela`t e, e{w" e[xestin uJmi`n: klausei`sqe ga;r ejpi; makrovtaton, o{tan th;n ejsqh`ta tauvthn tw`/ ai{mati uJmw`n ajpopluvnhte’. (‘Laugh’, he said, ‘Laugh as long as you can. For long shall you weep when you wash this garment with your blood’). Dio’s quote features a few significant alterations. Klauvsete becomes middle passive (klausei`sqe), a form used in tragedy. Strabo was not the only author to provide a reason for setting the scene at a festival. In Sophocles’ most famous play, Oedipus (OT 1490–1) wondered aloud of his daughters, ‘to what sort of public occasions (sc. will you come, h{xete), whence not in tears will you come home in spectacle’s stead?’ (poiva" d j eJortav", e[nqen ouj keklaumevnai/ pro;" oi\kon i{xesq j ajnti; th`" qewriva";), the implication being that someone would say something to send them away from the festivities.25 Postumius made just such a comment, which, had the Tarentines been wiser or moral, ought to have put an end to their irreverent celebration. However, this public rite cum triumpho was tragicomic and the imperative to weep had the additional function of restoring the reference to phlyax plays, omitted by Appian.26 Dio also took inspiration from his more immediate predecessor. He apparently shared Appian’s concern about hyperbaton and transformed Dionysius’ polu;n ga;r to;n meta; tau`ta crovnon into ejpi; makrovtaton. Similarly, he reduced Postumius’ original three utterances to one and the fetial did not address the ‘men’ of Taras. However, Appian began with a prediction and ended with the mention of laughter. Dio first repeated the command to laugh, then changed Postumius’ prediction slightly from the ejkplunei`t e of both Dionysius and Appian to ajpopluvnhte. Brauer, Taras 125, imagines the theatre filled with members of the anti-Roman democratic, or popular, party. 25 Sir R. C. Jebb, Sophocles. Oedipus Tyrannus (1981) 153, remarks on sensitivity to comments of this sort at public festivals. 26 It is unclear whether this shows awareness of the genre or just of Dionysius. 24

118

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

We have seen that the insulted delegates left Taras under slightly different circumstances, depending upon whom one reads. Dionysius’ Romans, outraged publicly and privately, sailed away (19.5.5) after prophesying their victory. Appian (Sam. 3.7.1) related that the embassy left without ever hearing a reply from the Tarentines. When the third version of Postumius delivered his final reproach, the Tarentine response (9.39.9), once they had heard him, was to cease jesting ( A j kouvsante" tou`t j ejkei`noi tw`n me;n skwmmavtwn ejpevscon). The legate succeeded in altering the mood, but not in ending the festival. The assembled Greeks did nothing in apology for the hybris they committed (ej" de; th;n paraivthsin tou` uJbrivsanto" oujde;n e[praxan). They were actually so arrogant as to presume that because they had sent the Romans away safe, they had done a good deed (ajll j o{t i kai; sw`" aujtou;" ajfh`kan, ejn eujergesiva" mevrei ejtivqento). It is exactly these sorts of epexegetical comments which distinguish the narrative of Dio from that of his sources. Unfortunately, this is the point where the text breaks off. When it resumes, Meton has undertaken a new effort (9.39.10). Unfortunately, the Byzantine epitome does not indicate whether Dio represented Meton as an upstanding citizen or as just another Tarentine. When he failed to persuade the Tarentines not to wage war with Rome, he left the assembly (Mevtwn, wJ" oujk e[peise Tarantivnou" to; mh; RJ wmaivoi" ejkpolemwqh`nai, e[k te th`" ejkklhsiva" uJpexh`lqe). The political occasion demonstrates that Dio read Plutarch’s version of the story, although he did not agree with all of the particulars. Plutarch said that the Tarentines convened an assembly to debate whether or not to invite Pyrrhus, many of them resolved to make him their hêgemôn. The trouble was that he did not explain how Meton found the accoutrements of a symposiast once the discussion started. The last upstanding man in the theatre just happened to find a flute-girl and garland, some sleight of hand Plutarch must not have intended. Dio corrected this with the speaker’s brief exit. When Meton returned, he wore the garlands, accompanied by a flute-girl and some companions not seen before, fellow revellers (kai; stefavnou" ajnedhvsato, sugkwmastav" tev tina" kai; aujlhtrivda labw;n uJpevstreyen). In ignoring the status of the flute-girl, Dio followed Plutarch. Like Dionysius, he used lambavnw to refer to the people Meton brought with him rather than the symbols of the party-goer that he carried. Innovations, in addition to the accompanying symposiasts (Dio must have thought that one should not drink alone, and a Tarentine certainly never would), included the separate main verb for putting on the crowns (ajnedhvsato), and in Meton’s performance itself. When the spurious, stereotypical Tarentine re-entered the theatre, he sang and danced the cordax (a[/donto" de; aujtou` kai; kordakivzonto"). Plutarch mentioned no dancing; the spectators called upon the flute-girl to play and Meton to sing (to; guvnaion aujlei`n kajkei`non a[/dein ejkevleuon).

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

119

Dionysius, meanwhile, related that some of the Tarentines bade Meton sing while others called for him to dance (kai; tw`n me;n a[/dein aujto;n keleuovntwn, tw`n de; ojrcei`sqai). In both earlier versions, once Meton had the crowd’s attention, he quieted them down and began to speak. He never really sang or danced, nor did either author provide anything so specific as the type of steps Meton executed. To find the source of this information, we must remember the kind of figure that the Tarentine represented, for example, the embodiment of shamelessness. Theophrastus (Char. 6.3) described a number of disagreeable practices typical of an individual who exhibited shamelessness (ajpovnoia). Among these, one expected to find that such a person suffered from insouciance, both able to dance the cordax sober and wearing a mask in a comic chorus (ajmevlei dunato;" kai; ojrcei`sqai nhvfwn to;n kovrdaka kai; proswpei`on e[cwn ejn kwmikw`/ corw/). The irony that one ought to have peformed this dance drunk made Meton a perfect exemplar of ajpovnoia, since he only pretended to be intoxicated in order to get the Tarentines’ attention. Dio has drawn upon Theophrastus here to lend more details the ring of truth and, presumably, credibility to his narrative. The discerning reader would also be pleased to note a further reference in that ajpovnoia can mean madness, the quality feigned by Athenian Meton in the effort to prevent his son from going on the Sicilian expedition. The decision to include this information is particularly interesting in light of the fact that Dionysius, in creating a ‘full’ narrative, referred to Theophrastus’ passages on obnoxiousness (bdeluriva) and shamelessness (ajpovnoia) in elaborating the story of Philonides, but not in the case of Meton. Since Appian followed suit with a form of ajnasuvrw, Dio avoided redundancy by not having Postumius’ assailant expose himself. The conspicuous reference to the cordax, its appropriate appearance in comedy, and the low probability that contemporary historians would have commited such a detail to paper make it stand out as ahistorical.27 So too is the crowd’s reaction. The dêmos stopped discussing public business (ejxevsthsan tw`n prokeimevnwn). Plutarch set Meton’s arrival in the assembly to underscore the Tarentines’ levitas, much as Dionysius introduced him to provide comic relief in an otherwise serious discussion. Neither made his character such a show stopper that the other Tarentines forgot about the debate in order to whoop and clap along (kai; ejpebovwn kai; ejpekrovtoun). Dio even added that this sort of thing was perfectly normal in such a situation (oi|a ejn tw`/ toiouvtw/ filei` givgnesqai), as if everyone ordinarily dropped what they

27 Herodotus (6.129) did not name the dances that Hippocleides performed in a famous incident.

120

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

were doing to accompany a dancing drunk, especially one who had burst in upon an assembly. The relative clause appeals to our sense of the likely, as earlier prose writers had employed it in explanations (e.g. Hdt. 8.128 and Th. 7.79). Through the artful juxtaposition of a typical historian’s phrase and exaggerated content, Dio sought to smooth over the liberties he had taken. Having won the crowd’s attention, Meton quieted them (kai; o}" sigavsa"). He needed no gesture as in Dionysius nor did the anticipation of his song produce a hush. Our new Meton was such an engaging performer, he enthralled the mob. When he spoke, not surprisingly, the content of his message recalled the speeches of both of his previous incarnations. Dionysius’ version had warned his fellow citizens they would no longer be able to do what they saw him doing once Pyrrhus brought his garrison to town (‘ Ê ÊA [ ndre"’, e[fh, ‘poli`tai, touvtwn w|n ejme; poiou`nta oJra`t e nu`n oujde;n uJmi`n ejxevsti poiei`n eja;n basileva kai; froura;n eij" th;n povlin eijselqei`n ejavshte’). The audience knew what he meant because Dionysius had described Meton’s attire, companion, and conduct. Plutarch responded to Dionysius’ vague demonstrative pronoun, relative clause, and verb of seeing (oJra`te) by specifying the activity, joking around, and celebrating a kômos (‘ A [ ndre"’, e[fh, ‘Taranti`noi, kalw`" poiei`te paivzein kai; kwmavzein, e{w" e[xesti, toi`" boulomevnoi" mh; fqonou`nte"’). However, while his Meton was as upstanding as a Tarentine could be, not so Dio’s. When the third and final incarnation addressed the crowd, he enjoyed being drunk and merry-making like the rest of them urging all, himself included, to do both for as long as possible (nu`n me;n kai; mequvein kai; kwmavzein e[xestin h`mi`n). Dio changed Dionysius’ original ‘you’ (uJmi`n) to ‘us’ (h`mi`n), perhaps because Meton would prefer to be at a symposium rather than speaking to an assembly. He also delivered the shortest warning of all. Namely, if the Tarentines carried out what they planned, they would become slaves (a]n d j o{sa bouleuvesqe ejpitelevshte, douleuvsomen), although whether of Pyrrhus or of the Romans rather than to their accustomed pleasures remains unclear. In reality, defeat was not as bad as that. Taras remained an independent polis until it was brought under direct control as a result of supporting Hannibal in the Second Punic War. Meton’s message served as just one more example of a Tarentine’s lack of wisdom, easy for Dio, a Roman senator, to write centuries later. The real challenge for him was to create a new exaedificatio. He achieved this in part by explicating the vague and unclear and through the occasional correction. Dio avoided details repeated several times or recently enough by other authors, such as the names Philocharis and Philonides, evidence perhaps of Appian’s popularity in his lifetime. Dio also showed an awareness of the work of Dionysius, Plutarch, Florus, and Polybius, not to mention Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato, Theophrastus,

Chapter 6: Cassius Dio

121

Strabo, and possibly Sophocles.28 Several of these contributed new exempla or new details to the narrative. What Dio reinterpreted were elements of innovation in his predecessors, although his episodes often maintained similar tones. The few speeches were never identical, but the sentiments were the same as was a certain brevity. Established stereotypes played a key role in this process and helped preserve the air of truth and accuracy. Taras had an air of carefree luxury which resisted the serious. The Tarentines lacked wisdom and loved drink and the easy life. Dio had clearly done his homework, but much of this did not involve Livy or earlier writers in the annalistic tradition.

28 This comes in sharp contrast to later books of his history which ‘suggest a devaluation of the document as source’, Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian 85. However, it does go some way to corroborating Dio’s claim at the beginning of his history: ‘While I have read everything, so to speak, which has been written by someone about them, I did not include everything, but only as much I saw fit’. ( A j nevgnwn me;n pavnta wJ" eijpei`n ta; peri; aujtw`n tisi gegrammevna, sunevgraya de; ouj pavnta ajll j o{sa ejxevkrina.) To what specific works and authors he referred remains a matter of speculation.

CHAPTER 7 THE LIVIAN TRADITION II: EUTROPIUS AND OROSIUS Where Dio’s work exhibited a number of influences from a variety of writers, this is much harder to detect in the case of our next two historians, both of whom relied heavily on Livy, and/or an epitome of his work. In particular, we are interested to see what they suggest about the content of their famous and influential predecessor. Also at issue, as with the previous accounts we have examined, will be to differentiate between an author’s own rhetorical embellishment and the content derived from his sources. EUTROPIUS In stark contrast to the more developed narratives we have seen thus far, Eutropius summarized the beginning of the war in two sentences, a necessity because of the vast scope of his work. He produced a history of the Roman world from Romulus to the reign of Jovian, over 1000 years, in just ten books, a principal source for which was the Epitome of Livy.1 Despite its brevity, his account finds some of its value in the way it reflects the various exornationes which preceded it. Naturally, we cannot expect much about the start of the Bellum Tarentinum but what Eutropius chose to relate proves very interesting in light of what other authors have said: Eodem tempore Tarentinis, qui iam in ultima Italia sunt, bellum indictum est, quia legatis Romanorum iniuriam fecissent. hi Pyrrum, Epiri regem, contra Romanos auxilium poposcerunt, qui ex genere Achillis originem trahebat. At the same time, war was declared against the Tarentines, who now live in farthest Italy, because they had injured the Roman legates. These people asked Pyrrhus, the king of Epirus, for help against the Romans. He traced his lineage back to the family of Achilles. The issue of Eutropius’ sources is, naturally, contentious. Disputes center on whether or not Eutropius consulted an epitome of Livy or the actual text and the extent to which he supplemented the use of Livian material through the consultation of authors including Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Plutarch, and Appian, see J. Hellegouarc’h, Eutrope. Abrégé d’Histoire Romaine (1999) xxv–vi. Cf. H. W. Bird, The Breviarium Ab Urbe Condita of Eutropius (1993) xlv–vii, and D. Rohrbacher, The Historians of Late Antiquity (2002) 53–4. 1

Eutropius

123

Unlike Florus, Appian, and the Periochae, Eutropius mentioned no naval battle, beginning the narrative (2.11), such as it is, with an ablative absolute ‘at the same time’ (eodem tempore). We should know this meant during the consulships of L. Aemilius Barbula and Q. Marcius Philippus, i.e. 281 B.C. Eutropius continued stating that ‘the Romans declared war on the Tarentines’, described as ‘living in farthest Italy’. Florus had offered a few observations regarding the city’s import and topography, but nothing about its actual location. However, rather than serving as evidence of the poor geographical knowledge of his audience or of a serious decline at Tarentum which resulted in its unimportance, Eutropius’ relative clause prompts us to remember the geopolitical realities of the third century B.C., significantly different from those of his own lifetime some 600 years later. Saying that Tarentum lay in ‘farthest Italy’ would have only made sense from the perspective of someone in a more northern part of the peninsula. Eutropius thereby reminded the reader or listener that Rome was once the center of its universe, without a rival imperial seat in Constantinople.2 A causal clause provided the familiar pretext for the declaration of war. The Tarentines had done harm to Roman legates (quia legatis Romanorum iniuriam fecissent), although who these were or why they were sent is unclear. The phrase stands out because of its divergence from the text of the Periochae, raising the question of whether we catch a glimpse here of the content of Livy’s twelfth book or the influence of authors, such as Appian or Florus. The Periochae had the legates complain about the death of the duumvir and the loss of ships and manpower (ut de his iniuriis quererentur). Valerius Maximus, however, only related the ‘most serious injuries’ suffered by the nameless ambassadors (cum gravissimas ibi iniurias accepissent), while Florus said that the Tarentines ‘violated’ the Roman legatio (hanc … violant), which had swiftly arrived to complain about the Greeks’ misdeeds. If we do see evidence here of Livy’s text, it suggests that the Patavian only altered slightly what he had read in Polybius, iniuria as open to interpretation as the original ajsevlgeian. Dionysius would still be the author of the elaborated episodes. Alternatively, Eutropius could have produced the passage under the influence of Florus or Appian, the latter of whom certainly worked closely with the text of Dionysius. The relative agreement of so many authorities also must have contributed to some perceived reliability in their content. Unfortunately, there is no way to be certain about the exact texts Eutropius consulted and we are better served to look at the rhetoric of his sentences.

Rohrbacher, The Historians of Late Antiquity 54, observes: ‘Eutropius also brings a distinctly fourth-century approach to his interpretation of the earlier periods’. 2

124

Chapter 7: The Livian Tradition II: Eutropius and Orosius

One difference between his version of events and that of his predecessors is that the Romans in Valerius Maximus, Florus, and the Periochae complained about the injuries they had suffered, i.e. syntactically they were the subjects of their respective sentences and clauses. Eutropius made the Tarentines the nominative agents of the subordinate clause lest there be any doubt about who was at fault or innocently acted upon. In a way, his first sentence reflects the influence of inventio more than it helps us in reconstructing the text of Livy. The second shows that in the grand scheme of things, Pyrrhus, a real historical figure, proved of much more interest than a few fictional Tarentines. If he knew of a debate about summoning the Epirote, Eutropius provided no indication, not unlike Florus and the Periochae, or even the minimal account of Appian. The southern Italian Greeks simply ‘summoned the king of Epirus, who was descended from Achilles, to help them against the Romans’ (hi Pyrrhum, Epiri regem, contra Romanos auxilium poposcerunt, qui ex genere Achillis originem trahebat). On balance, both sentences are reminiscent of Polybius’ genitive absolute, although Polybius probably felt no compulsion to comment on Pyrrhus’ lineage via the passing reference to the hero of the Iliad.3 Then again, the Megalopolitan lived less than a century after the events in question. For Eutropius, the Pyrrhic War was almost as temporally remote as the Trojan War was for Pyrrhus. The connection between epic and the condottiere harkens back to Ennius and Lycophron, but without the naval battle or the spectacles in the theatre and in the assembly Eutropius can only help so much as a control regarding the content of Livy. One final author offers promise in that regard. OROSIUS Orosius composed his narrative (4.1.1–2) in the early fifth century A.D., drawing upon sources which included Livy, Florus, Eutropius, and some Greek authors.4 In light of what we have seen, a somewhat cursory look at his text reveals what one might be tempted to view as mistakes and dramatic exaggerations: Anno ab urbe condita CCCCLXIIII Tarentini Romanam classem forte praetereuntem, spectaculo theatri prospectam hostiliter invaserunt, quinque tantum navibus vix per fugam elapsis; cetera retracta in portum classis et profligata est; praefecti navium trucidati, omnes bello utiles caesi, reliqui pretio venditi sunt. Continuo 3 I do not mean to suggest that Eutropius consulted the text of Polybius directly. There is simply the coincidence of content. 4 M.-P. Arnaud-Lindet, Orose. Histoires (Contre les Paiens) (1990) xxv–ix.

Orosius

125

missi Tarentum a Romanis legati, ut de inlatis quererentur iniuriis, pulsati ab isdem auctas insuper iniurias rettulerunt. His causis bellum ingens exortum est. 464 years after the foundation of Rome, the Tarentines attacked a Roman squadron, which as luck would have it was passing by and was seen from the theatre during a show. Only five ships narrowly escaped in flight. The rest were drawn into the harbor and destroyed. The prefects in charge of the ships were slaughtered, all men fit for duty massacred, the remainder sold for a price. At once, ambassadors were sent by the Romans to Tarentum to complain about the injuries suffered, but these driven out by the same reported new outrages. A great war arose from these causes.

Orosius got the date wrong (A.U.C. 464=290 B.C.) and said Roman commanders, called prefects, not duumviri, died, plural instead of one. He erred in number and terminology and claimed all able-bodied men were slaughtered and the remainder sold into slavery, the first extant author to do so.5 His contention that the Roman fleet only happened to be sailing by when met by Greek treachery hits upon a formulation which sounds more innocent than the rowing towards shore in Florus and in Dio or Appian’s voyage of inspection.6 Like all of his details, these were designed to provoke a sense of outrage and to justify the ten-year war which would ensue. No wonder such a short and overly dramatized account has attracted so little interest.7 The harsher critic sees an incompetent copyist at work, a traditional conclusion in Quellenforschung, or blames inventio since ‘the truth could not be recovered and the details did not seem to matter’.8 The trouble with such a view is that the details did matter. Orosius was responsible enough to repeat the term legati and other aspects of his account echo the testimony of earlier authors. The choice to call the squadron commanders praefecti instead of duumviri might reflect the usage of his audience and tells us Cf. Wuilleumier, Tarente 102–3, and Brauer, Taras 123. P. S. Derow, Phoenix 27 (1973) 124, observed that Orosius and Florus also exaggerated the number of Roman ambassadors killed at the beginning of the Illyrian War. Perhaps, Orosius was merely following Florus’ lead in that case. Regarding Campanian soldiers around the time of the Pyrrhic War, Bleckmann, Chiron 29 (1999) 127, has remarked how Orosius transformed legio Campana, a phrase which only appears in later sources, into the ‘Eighth Legion’. 6 Cf. Urso, TXS 118, who calls this claim baseless and opts to follow Dio. 7 Cf. R. W. Burgess, BMCR 2004.03.49, in which he dismisses Orosius as a ‘a tendentious hack who tried to shoe-horn world and especially Roman history into a preconceived theological interpretation (pre-Christian/republican history: bad, Christian/ imperial history: good) all the while epitomizing Justin, Livy, Jerome, Suetonius, and Eutropius (for the most part) and badly extricating himself from unpainted corners. Even Augustine, who commissioned the work, repudiated it’. 8 Badian, ‘The Early Historians’ 16, says this of L. Coelius Antipater and his tendency to dramatize his accounts. 5

126

Chapter 7: The Livian Tradition II: Eutropius and Orosius

nothing about whether or not he knew the correct term. In a way, substituting praefecti works very well to Orosius’ advantage. To say that both duumviri were killed would imply that the Roman navy was tiny. His goal, however, was to stress the extent of Roman losses. In accordance with this strategy, Orosius, unlike Appian, never stated how many ships arrived at Taras, implying that the Romans actually had a fleet and not just a squadron. The tallies of the two authors work out the same. Five ships did not escape. However, Orosius altered the casualties, originally four ships sunk and one captured, to five destroyed. Calling the commanders prefects, then, comprised only a part of his inventio. Of course, some might have taken him literally, but the learned reader recognized what was new, knew where to check the facts, and understood the exaggeration for dramatic purposes, possibly even agreeing with the technique. The same individual might have owned the very books Orosius used to construct his account, Eutropius, Valerius Maximus, Plutarch, or Florus, among others, although Orosius cited none verbatim. Since Dionysius more or less doubled the losses reported by Hieronymus for both sides during the Pyrrhic War, one could conjecture that he was responsible for the exaggerations here. In the absence of his text and that of earlier annalists, however, we cannot be certain. It is important for us to remember that in this respect, we are at a decided disadvantage. Rather than sloppy history, a close examination of the text sees an artfully constructed account which assumed much from the audience. After situating us temporally, Orosius literally set the stage, a tactic long clichéd. He marked a strong adversative contrast by juxtaposing Tarentini and Romanam and by concluding the clausula with a main verb, invaderunt, which left the relationship between the two in no doubt. The word order invites us, like the Tarentines in the theatre, to gaze upon a Roman fleet passing by chance before our eyes, an effect enhanced by the number and quantity of syllables and reinforced by the word after praetereuntem, spectaculo.9 Of course, the spectacle was not just the unexpected sight (prospectam) of the Roman ships. The Tarentines staged some sort of performance themselves, although we are not told what that was (Rhinthon? Aristophanes? Euripides?).10 Florus had said they were celebrating games and Cassius Dio the Dionysia. Orosius’ choice of verb for the attack, invadere, lacks the nuance of Florus’ insultant, since it misses the reference to mockery in the theatre. However, the adverb hostiliter which might seem clumsy and unnecessary From Tarentini to praetereuntem, 13 of the 16 syllables are long by nature or by position. 10 Evidence for what the Tarentines watched on the stage may be found on Apulian vases, see Taplin, Comic Angels. 9

Orosius

127

before invadere not only leaves us in no doubt as to who the real aggressor was, it emphasizes how the Tarentines reacted at the interruption of their entertainment. These were clearly a passionate, irrational people, slavishly devoted to their own pleasures, something Orosius counted on us to recognize as we sit in their midst. Surveying the scene and the responses of our fellow theatregoers, a technique Dionysius, Plutarch, Appian, and Cassius Dio had employed, we should feel shock, horror, and outrage at what happened next to the Roman flotilla. What we should not experience is surprise at the persistence of a stereotype derived from the likes of Plato, Theopompus, and Strabo, although we cannot tell which if any of these Orosius had read. Whether under the influence of alcohol or no, the Tarentines attacked the unsuspecting squadron in accordance with a topos of Greek behavior familiar to everyone who recalled Vergil’s depiction of Sinon in Book Two of the Aeneid: their shamelessness knew no bounds. While the Romans were intent on getting away, as indicated by the narrow (vix) escape of only (tantum) five ships, the Tarentines fell upon their victims, literally dragging them back into the harbor (retracta). Florus and Dio are the only other extant authors to set the engagement specifically at Taras, although neither of them related such a detail. Retracta would appear to be a reaction to the direpta seen in the Periocha of Livy’s Book Twelve. Both portray the Romans as the prey of pirate-like Greeks, not to mention a certain semantic similarity in the two words. Orosius’ invention, meanwhile, did not stop with continual reminders of Roman innocence. The ships were not prizes of war; they were all destroyed (profligata). The men aboard able enough to fight for their lives found no mercy. Those injured were sold into slavery, although one wonders who would buy a maimed slave. Perhaps we are supposed to imagine that the men would recover from their wounds and go on to lead productive lives for their masters. However, Appian had stated the Tarentines took prisoners whose return the Roman ambassadors demanded. An alternative solution, then, is that Orosius, with his unablebodied slaves, provided a hint to his innovation, which was clearly intended to cast the Tarentines in a worse light than that of the prior tradition. The Roman delegates who subsequently arrived to complain about the unprovoked attack faired little better. Although Orosius did not state what happened to this embassy, we know that they suffered some sort of new injury at the hands of the Tarentines and it was because of this that the war commenced. In the last two sentences, we find the closest parallels to the language of Valerius, the Periochae, and, presumably, Livy. Florus had said that the fetials arrived in Taras ‘without delay’ (sine mora), which might account for the ‘immediately’ (Continuo) at the sentence’s beginning. The remainder of the first clause

128

Chapter 7: The Livian Tradition II: Eutropius and Orosius

shares a number of elements in common with Valerius and the Periocha of Book Twelve. The former had mentioned ‘legates sent to Tarentum by the senate’ (legati a senatu Tarentum … missi), as had the summary (legati ad eos a senatu … missi). Orosius altered the word order, changed ‘senate’ to ‘Romans’, and retained Valerius’ Tarentum as the destination rather than the vague prepositional phrase of the Periocha. This kind of variation makes it all but impossible to determine what the original text of Livy would have looked like. If anything, Orosius’ next clause and final sentence would appear to respond to the summary most closely so as to avoid repeating the information verbatim. The core syntax remains the same. A purpose clause related the Roman complaints followed by the legates’ expulsion and a short sentence about the declaration of war. Orosius substituted a few words with equivalents and made a few additions. The war became ‘huge’ (ingens). To the fetials’ ejection he appended a new main verb so that they could report the injuries they had suffered, precisely what Dionysius’ and Appians’ legates did. One must ask if these are Livian elements which the Periocha omitted or the inventio of Orosius under the influence of these other two authors. In light of the clear cases of exaggeration (the two praefecti, the fate of the crews, the number of ships sunk, the ‘huge’ war), the careful construction of the passage, and the discrepancies between this text and that of Florus and the Periocha, the changes in the last two sentences must be the handiwork of Orosius who sought to distinguish his narrative from that of his predecessors.11 He did so in a familiar way: sometimes establishing clear verbal echoes with earlier texts, shortening that which was more elaborate in the work of others (spectacula in the theatre, the indeterminate size of the Roman fleet, and the insult itself) and introducing new elements to the narrative. In this case, however, the new did not come from Tarentine stereotypes, nor was the language specific enough to point to exempla in any one author. One final characteristic shared with the Periocha of Livy and Florus is that Orosius did not tell us that, because of these incidents, the Tarentines debated summoning Pyrrhus to lead their war effort.12

We see the same process at work in the Arab world, see M. Penelas, ‘The Arab Historian and the Christian Sources: the Historiae of Orosius’, in La verdad tamizada: cronistas, reporteros e historiadores ante su publico. (2001), edd. A. P. Jiménez and G. Cruz Andreotti, 179–200. 12 At 4.1.5, the Epirote suddenly appears helping the Tarentines, who had been supported by the many garrisons of their neighbors, greatly (Continuo Tarentinos, plurimis finitorum praesidiis fultos, maxime Pyrrhus auxit). 11

CHAPTER 8 ZONARAS: INVENTIO AND EPITOME Some seven centuries after Orosius, Zonaras, imperial secretary to the Byzantine emperor Alexis I Komnenos and the commander of the bodyguard, retired to Mount Athos, probably because of involvement in a failed plot to make Anna Komnena empress in 1118. While there, he composed an ÊE j pitomh; Ê IJ storiw`n, a history of the world in eighteen books. Three of these, numbers seven to nine, recounted Roman history from the arrival of Aeneas to 146 B.C. at which point Zonaras (9.31) stated that his authorities failed him. Given the amount of material to be covered in such a brief space, one may be tempted to conclude that, as with Eutropius, the epitome offers little on the Bellum Tarentinum. However, the work does contain some valuable testimony not found elsewhere. As the title implies, Zonaras wrote a compilation, relying heavily on Cassius Dio and supplementing this through the consultation of other authors including Plutarch, Appian, and Herodotus.1 At the same time, the beginning of his narrative (8.2) concerning the outbreak of the war suggests that he was more than a copyist: Ê \Hrxan de; tw`n polevmwn oiJ Taranti`noi, Turshnou;", kai; Galavta", kai; Samnivta", kai; a[llou" prosetairisavmenoi pleivona". A j lla; tou;" me;n a[llou" oiJ R J wmai`oi sumbalovnte" diafovroi" mavcai" ejnivkhsan, kai; uJpavtoi" a[llote a[lloi". OiJ de; Taranti`noi, kaivtoi aujtoi; to;n povlemon paraskeuavsante", o{mw" ou[pw pro;" mavchn ajntikatevsthsan fanerw`". The Tarentines began the wars. They associated with the Etruscans, Gauls, Samnites, and many other peoples. The Romans defeated the others meeting them in various battles under diverse consuls at different times. The Tarentines, although they themselves had prepared for the war, nevertheless did not yet offer opposition openly in battle.

The formulation blaming the Tarentines for the onset of multiple hostilities is more blunt and exaggerated than in an any author we have seen thus far. According to Plutarch, the Romans and Tarentines were merely at war, 1 Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio 2–3; A. Momgliano, s.v. Zonaras in the OCD; and E. Cary’s introduction to the Loeb of Dio, vol. 1 (1914), xxiii–iv. When reading Zonaras, it is important to bear in mind that the influence of Dio might be more present than the epitomised fragments preserved in the Excerpta Constantiniana, Florilegium, and Bekker’s Anecdota Graeca indicate.

130

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

Ê Ê RJ wmai`oi Tarantivnoi" ejpolevmoun, without any attempt to identify the responsible party. Then again, Plutarch did not include the naval battle or the visit of Postumius at Taras, much less Roman campaigns against Samnites, Etruscans, and Gauls. Only Dio stated explicitly that the Tarentines were preparing for war and his influence is perceptible here as one would expect, particularly in the third sentence. Zonaras borrowed much from the original (oiJ Taranti`noi, kaivper to;n povlemon aujtoi; paraskeuavsante", o{mw" ejn skevph/ tou` fovbou h\san), altered the word order of the first clause slightly, and changed kaivper to kaivtoi. He also parallelled the sentence’s syntactical structure by introducing the next part with o{mw", although rather than stating that the Tarentines were sheltered from fear, or explaining why that was true, he preferred to comment on their cowardice in not meeting the Romans in battle. The latter notably had already demonstrated their virtus by defeating the Etruscans, Gauls, and Samnites under a number of leaders at different times and places (diafovroi" mavcai" ejnivkhsan, kai; uJpavtoi" a[llote a[lloi"). However, Dio, in so far as the remaining text allows us to ascertain, did not accuse the southern Italian Greeks of instigating the Romans’ wars with these three other peoples. Zonaras, by attributing such influence and organizational abilities to the Tarentines, not to mention the potential implication of imperial ambitions, demonstrates familiarity with the city’s reputation for wealth and power.2 Simultaneously, this representation is not consonant with the concept of the anacyclosis seen in both Plutarch and Dio. Taras, the city whose influence and power were in decline as the Pyrrhic War began, was able to organize a coalition willing to fight under Pyrrhus, but many of its members clearly responded to their new leader rather than to his employer.3 If the Tarentines were ultimately responsible for Roman victories over Etruscans, Gauls, and Samnites before the naval engagement, one might well ask which wars Zonaras intended. Dio had said that the Tarentines were plotting while the Romans were occupied with the Gauls, presumably both Boii and Senones, the Umbrians, The Byzantine emperor Nikephoros II had refounded the city in A.D. 967, but it was taken by the Normans about one hundred years later, see F. Porsia and M. Scionti, Taranto (1989) 29–34. 3 Evidence of this included the city’s decision to hire mercenaries to defend itself from the Messapians, Lucanians, and Bruttians in the second half of the fourth century and finally to hire Pyrrhus to deal with the Romans. Even more conclusive proof of the waning of Tarentine power and the expansion of Roman interests came via the installation of Roman garrisons at Thurii (App. Sam. 3.7.1), Locri (Just. 18.1.9), Rhegion (D. H. 20.4), and Croton (Zonar. 8.6), all members of the Italiote League. Plutarch reports various peoples sending to Pyrrhus separately and the Samnites deciding not to fight with him (Pyrrh. 22, 23.5, 25). 2

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

131

and the Etruscans. Undoubtedly, Zonaras was referring in part to the Gallic Wars as well as to the campaigns in Etruria, some of which occurred when the Tarentines began the war with Rome. At the same time, the occurrence of Etruscans, Gauls, and Samnites in that order bears a similarity to Polybius’ quick summary (1.6.4) of the conflicts leading up to the Pyrrhic War. The sentence preceding the report that the Tarentines summoned Pyrrhus from fear because of their arrogant treatment of the Roman ambassadors related how ‘the Romans waged war with the Etruscans, then the Gauls, and next the Samnites, people who lived both to the east and to the north of the borders of Latium’ (ejpolevmoun Turrhnoi`", e[peita Keltoi`", ejxh`" de; Saunivtai" toi`" prov" te ta;" ajnatola;" kai; ta;" a[rktou" suntermonou`s i th`/ tw`n Lativnwn cwvra/). This vague report could apply to the period from Sentinum until Pyrrhus’ arrival.4 Zonaras’ text (8.2) adds a little precision to this since prior to his assertion that the Tarentines began the wars, he related troubles at Rome on debts usually dated to 287 B.C. The notice about wars with Etruscans, Gauls, and Samnites, then, is intended to fill the multi-year gap between these domestic affairs and the beginning of the Bellum Tarentinum in 282, if not until the arrival of Pyrrhus two years later. Zonaras did say that the Tarentines did not openly oppose the Romans in battle and there was no need as long as the latter were otherwise occupied. The situation changed when the Greeks took the initiative and attacked the Roman squadron, one more way of suggesting their lack of ajrethv since no one doubted their numerical superiority at sea. The contrast was heightened by stressing Roman innocence which emerged increasingly in the accounts of Florus, Appian, Dio, and Orosius. Once again, Zonaras offers new variations on what we have previously seen: Nauarcou`nto" de; Loukivou Oujalerivou, kai; trihvresi prosormivsai boulhqevnto" ej" Tavranta, ejpei; ajphv/ei o{ph/ su`n aujtai;" ajpestavlh, fivlion th;n cwvran hJgouvmeno": oiJ Tarantivnoi kat j aujtw`n uJpotophvsante" to;n Oujalevrion plei`n ejk tou` suneidovto" w|n e{drwn, met j ojrgh`" ajntanhvcqhsan, kai; prospesovnte" aujtw`/ mhde;n polevmion ejlpivsanti, katevdusan ejkei`novn te kai; a[llou" pollouv": kai; tou;" aJlovnta", tou;" me;n kaqei`rxan, tou;" de; kai; ajpevkteinan. Lucius Valerius, the naval commander, wanted to bring his ships to anchor near Taras, since he departed for where he was sent with them, thinking that the country 4 Florus offered a similar synopsis preceding his narrative of the Bellum Tarentinum, see above p. 79. Zonaras’ notice about Roman victories (diafovroi" mavcai" ejnivkhsan, kai; uJpavtoi" a[llote a[lloi") is also reminiscent of the Periocha of Livy’s twelfth book (aliquot proeliis a conpluribus ducibus bene pugnatum est), although one finds no Gauls, but rather Lucanians and Bruttians in addition to the Samnites and Etruscans. I do not want to suggest that Zonaras knew Latin or consulted Latin sources, but rather that his testimony could result from consulting epitomes or abbreviated histories on matters of chronology.

132

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

was friendly. The Tarentines suspected that Valerius had sailed against them on seeing him from their seats. They attacked with anger and fell upon him who was expecting no hostile act. They sent him to the bottom and many others. Some of those captured they imprisoned, some they killed.

The differences between Zonaras and the epitomes of Dio in the Excerpta Constantiniana are often subtle.5 Both agree that Valerius, the nauarch, was deliberately sent to Taras, although here the naval commander wanted to bring his triremes to anchor, not to come to shore as Dio and Florus had reported, nor were the Romans sailing by as in Orosius. Appian had identified the warships as katafravktwn, ‘decked’, and specified how many were ‘inspecting’ Magna Graecia. Dio, who omitted the number, left the audience’s imagination free to picture a larger fleet arriving in the harbor, however anachronistic that might be. Zonaras too passed over this detail in favor of taking care to characterize the officium of Valerius who dutifully led his ships where he was sent. He was unaware of why the Tarentines would want to attack him, actually thinking that the land belonged to a friendly power (fivlion th;n cwvran hJgouvmeno"), a means of stressing that the Romans would end up fighting an unprovoked and purely defensive war.6 The influence for this can be found where Dio had stated that Valerius did not actually expect any hostitilies (mhvq j o{lw" polevmiovn ti uJpotopoumevnw/). Zonaras repeated the notion that it was the Greeks who espied the newly arrived Romans from their seats and perceived them as a threat, greatly simplifying Dio’s clause about people sitting in the theatre one afternoon saturated with wine (ejn tw`/ qeavtrw/ diakorei`" oi[noi to; deivlh" kaqhvmenoi). He did not name the occasion, time, or location, nor did he give the Tarentines the excuse of too much alcohol. They attacked only in anger falling upon a Valerius who, instead of not raising a hand, merely expected no hostile act (met j ojrgh`" ajntanhvcqhsan, kai; prospesovnte" mhde;n polevmion ejlpivsanti). The bulk of the vocabulary Zonaras lifted straight out of Dio as he did the the next sentence about the Tarentines sending the Roman commander and many others to the bottom (katevdusan ejkei`novn te kai; a[llou" pollouv":). The Constantinian Excerpts, however, did not mention the fate of the crews who were captured (kai; tou;" aJlovnta"). This raises an interesting question about where Zonaras obtained the information concerning the imprisonment of some and the execution of others (tou;" me;n kaqei`rxan, tou;" de; kai; ajpevkteinan). The only similar, but more exaggerated, report we have seen is Orosius’ claim that the Tarentines killed all able-bodied men and sold the rest into Cf. Urso, TXS 117. Another reading would view the Tarentine land as being dear. In other words, Valerius saw how attractive it was for conquest, and was not so naive after all. 5 6

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

133

slavery. When we compare this with the prisoners of war demanded by the Roman legates and the rather humane treatment given to the Roman garrison expelled from Thurii as reported by Appian, the notion that some of the captured were slaughtered, particularly in light of the fact that only the crews of four sunken and one captured ships were involved, can only be deliberate invention. Much more problematic is to ascertain the responsible party. It is possible that some source earlier than Livy and Dionysius, or perhaps the latter with his penchant for exaggeration, could be the culprit. In lieu of absolute certainty, it is reasonable to assume that Zonaras here reports the substance of Dio absent in the Excerpta Constantiniana, and that this is not an example of his own creative powers at work. The same is no doubt true for the bulk of the next passage. Much like Dio, after the narration of the naval battle, Zonaras turned to the Roman reaction and dispatch of legates charged with demanding reparations: Puqovmenoi de; tau`q j oiJ R J wmai`oi, hjganavkthsan me;n, prevsbei" d j o{mw" ajpevsteilan, ejpegkalou`nte" aujtoi`" kai; divka" ajpaitou`nte". OiJ de; ouj movnon aujtoi`" oujde;n ejpieike;" ajpekrivqhsan, ajlla; kai; ejtwqavzon, wJ" kai; th;n ejsqh`ta tou` Loukivou Postoumivou tou` proevconto" khlidw`sai tw`n prevsbewn. Qoruvbou de; ejpi; touvtw/ genomevnou, kai; tw`n Tarantivnwn ejpikagcazovntwn, oJ Postouvmio", Gela`te, e[fh, gela`te, e{w" e[xestin uJmi`n: klauvsesqe ga;r ejpi; makrovtaton, o{tan th;n ejsqh`ta tauvthn tw`/ ai{mati hJmw`n ajpopluvnhte. When the Romans learnt these things, they were vexed, but nevertheless sent ambassadors, bringing charges against them and seeking justice. The Tarentines, not at all upright men, not only did not answer them, but they even mocked them, so that they fouled the garment of the man in charge, Lucius Postumius. When a din arose at this, and the Tarentines laughed aloud, Postumius said, ‘Laugh, laugh, as long as you are able. For long afterward shall you weep, when you wash this garment with your blood’.

The first participial clause through R J wmai`oi agrees verbatim with the Byzantine excerpts of Dio. When the Romans became vexed, but nevertheless sent ambassadors, Zonaras offered something new.7 In his view, the Romans were such a just people, they did not retaliate immediately by sending an army, but sent representatives to demand that the wrongs done them be redressed. Apparently, the technicalities of fetial procedure were Dionysius used the verb, ajganaktevw, as Postumius decided to irritate the Tarentines further by telling them they would wash his toga with their blood and the related substantive when describing the reaction at Rome to Postumius’ return. It is tempting to assert that Zonaras knew the passage and introduced the term here so that Postumius could turn the tables on the Tarentines. However, there is insufficient evidence to demonstrate that Zonaras consulted Dionysius, particularly when Appian too used the verb in reference to the reaction of the populus at the sight of Postumius’ toga. 7

134

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

unfamiliar to the Byzantine historiographer or he might have thought that the Tarentines had refused the terms of the rerum repetitio. We know that Appian provided a list of the requested reparations, which Zonaras could have read. A possibility also exists that he offers an important snippet of Dio omitted by the Excerpta Constantiniana. However, none of these but Zonaras affords the same image of Roman restraint. In fact, the Byzantine epitome of Dio explained that the decision to send ambassadors was meant to show that the Romans were not passive and to prevent the Greeks from becoming bolder. Once at Taras, the legates demonstrated their self-control by remaining silent until the Tarentines unwittingly hailed them as triumphant victors. Zonaras, on the other hand, has implied restraint immediately because the Romans were allowed to speak. The affinities between the two Byzantine sources for Dio continue through the remainder of the passage. Notable echoes include the Greeks not giving a suitable reply to the Romans (a form of ajpokrinovmai), their mocking (ejtwvqazon) the ambassadors, and fouling Postumius’ toga (a form of khliovw). There are, however, two exceptions. In the first, perhaps with a nod to Plutarch who portrayed Meton as the last upstanding man in the theatre, the Tarentines in Zonaras were not at all reputable (oujde;n ejpieike;"). The second occurs in conjunction with the perpetration of the insult. When Zonaras called Megellus the ‘man in charge’, the syntax of the clause offers a verbal play. The word used to designate Postumius’ status as head of the delegation, proevcw, literally means to ‘hold forth’. The participle finds a natural direct object in the garment which occurs before his name (th;n ejsqh`ta tou` Loukivou Postoumivou tou` proevconto"), so that one has the impression upon first meeting the infinitive that the Tarentines soiled the garment held forth by Postumius. Only the appearance of the ambassadors after the infinitive (khlidw`sai tw`n prevsbewn) lets the reader know that the actual meaning is that the Greeks soiled the toga of the man leading the delegation. Although hardly conclusive proof, it suggests that Zonaras knew the text of Appian who used a less ambiguous synonym, proteivnw, to great effect. There is also a resemblance to a sentence of Dionysius at the point when the ambassadors who returned to Rome displayed Postumius’ toga to the populus as proof of what they said (th;n ejsqh`ta tou` Postomivou pivstin tw`n lovgwn parecovmenoi). The last few lines again parallel the Excerpta Constantiniana. The din in the theatre and Postumius’ speech are identical. Only the genitive absolute relating laughter aloud (tw`n Tarantivnwn ejpikagcazovntwn) offers variation, but in this one can see that Zonaras sought to put his own stamp on what he read, however subtle the change. For the next section of his text, the Excerpta Constantiniana fail us, but there is no reason to believe that we are seeing anything other than varia-

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

135

tions on the text of Dio, although Zonaras may have had other sources at hand: ÊE j panelqovntwn ou\n tw`n prevsbewn oiJ R J wmai`oi ta; pracqevnta maqovnte" h[lghsan, kai; strateu`sai ejpi; tou;" Tarantivnou" Louvkion Aijmivlion to;n u{paton ejyhfivsanto. o]" eij" Tavranta proscwrhvsa" lovgou" aujtoi`" ejpithdeivou" e[pemye, nomivzwn eijrhvnhn ejpiv tisi metrivoi" aiJrhvsesqai. When their ambassadors returned, the Romans, once they learnt what had been done, were grieved and voted that the consul Lucius Aemilius wage war against the Tarentines. As he approached Taras, he sent them a suitable message, reckoning that they would choose peace in a certain reasonable measure.

Dionysius (19.6.1–3) reported a lengthy debate at Rome which lasted several days and ended with a vote authorizing the consul Lucius Aemilius to wage war with the Tarentines. Appian (Sam. 3.7.3), on the other hand, said that Aemilius was already campaigning against the Samnites when the delegation led by Postumius returned to Rome. The populus ordered him to invade Tarentine lands and issue the Roman demands one last time, exceeding the required waiting period of fetial law before attacking. Both passages agree in presenting Romans who were the embodiment of just behavior and appreciated the gravity of the situation. From this passage, however, it is impossible to determine if Dio was following one of these more closely. We do not learn the whereabouts of the consul. Aemilius’ opinion that the Tarentines would opt for peace contains a rare phrase (ejpi; metrivoi") which invites the alert reader to ponder an analogy with Thucydides (4.22.3), whom Dio admired and imitated.8 The Athenian historian used the expression only once when he related the visit of Spartan representatives to Athens after their hoplites were trapped on Sphactêria. Their offer of peace in an attempt to negotiate the return of their citizens was rejected in large part thanks to the demagogue Cleon. He urged (4.21.3) the Athenians to demand first the surrender of the Spartans at Pylos who were to be brought to Athens and then the return of territories the Athenians had conquered, but given up. When the Spartans (4.22.1–2) asked to meet with a committee to discuss the terms, Cleon accused them of dishonest intentions. The Spartans subsequently withdrew thinking that the Athenians would not ‘carry out in reasonable measure what they proposed’ (tou;" A j qhnaivou" ejpi; metrivoi" poihvsanta" a} proukalou`nto). The Athenians felt they had the upper hand not realizing the twenty years of warfare that lay ahead which would come at a tremendous price and leave their polis defeated and occupied by the Spartans. Aemilius, expecting that the Tarentines, like the Athenians would choose peace ‘in a certain reasonable measure’, exhibited the innocence of a man incapable of recognizing that 8

See Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio 42.

136

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

anyone could not follow the moral and just course of action. The concept of a democracy with all of its potential for unruliness was foreign to a patrician who had always known a political system guided by aristocrats, or so this representation would have us think. Like the Spartans, Aemilius left without attaining his goal. However, the Romans would defeat the Tarentines and their allies in less time and at less cost than it took the Spartans to best Athens. They could thank the young and poor within the citizenry of the polis. In his representation of the political divisions within the Tarentine community, Zonaras might reflect some influence of Plutarch and several other well-known authors: oiJ de; tai`" gnwvmai" ajllhvloi" hjnantiwvqhsan: kai; tw`n me;n presbutevrwn kai; eujpovrwn th;n eijrhvnhn speudovntwn, tw`n d j ejn hJlikiva/ kai; ojlivga h] mhde;n ejcovntwn povlemon aiJroumevnwn, ejkravthsan oiJ newvteroi. fobouvmenoi de; o{mw", to;n Puvrron to;n H j peirwvthn eij" summacivan ejbouleuvsanto proskalevsasqai, kai; prevsbei" aujtw`/ kai; dw`ra pepovmfasin. They opposed one another in their opinions. While the older men and the wealthy urged peace, the young and those who owned little or nothing chose war. The younger men prevailed. Nevertheless, they were still afraid and resolved to summon Pyrrhus the Epirote into an alliance. They sent both ambassadors to him and gifts.

The first-century biographer reported a split in the Tarentine assembly, the older men and the sensible citizens (tw`n de; presbutevrwn kai; nou`n ejcovntwn politwvn) opposing those who favored war and making Pyrrhus hêgemôn. However, this occurred in a debate about whether or not to summon Pyrrhus. Zonaras, and Dio, had these two groups debate their response to Aemilius’ terms. The substitution of the wealthy for the sensible reflects an old aristocratic bias, perfectly in keeping with the latter’s own status as a wealthy member of the senatorial class. A possible reference to Polybius is to be found in the attitude and decision of the party whose view won the day. Long before Dio set stylus to papyrus, Polybius had said that the Tarentines summoned Pyrrhus because of fear at what they had done (to;n dia; tau`ta fovbon ejpispasamevnwn Puvrron). The idea that the Tarentines were afraid of the consequences of their arrogance gives them credit for some common sense. This would change. According to Zonaras, or more probably Dio, the decision to vote for war did not eliminate their trepidation. Still afraid (fobouvmenoi), the Tarentines wanted to call Pyrrhus into an alliance (to;n Puvrron to;n H j peirwvthn eij" summacivan ejbouleuvsanto proskalevsasqai). However, they would appear to have transferred their fear from their conduct to a more fitting subject, the people who would defeat their mercenary general and subjugate them. They even went so far as to send gifts and ambassadors, as if Pyrrhus were Achilles sitting out of the

Chapter 8: Zonaras: Inventio and Epitome

137

fray in Book Nine of the Iliad. Plutarch had said the king was most at leisure and a very awe-inspiring general (scolh;n a[gonta pleivsthn tw`n basilevwn kai; strathgo;n o[nta deinovtaton), both accurate with regard to Achilles. Now, Dio represented him as if he were sitting beside his ships playing the lyre, only this time, the offered gifts were persuasive and no question of leadership divided the Greek army. With this quick decision to summon Pyrrhus, nothing of the Meton episode is preserved in Zonaras. Nevertheless, his work does give us still other details about events at Taras not preserved in any other source. Only his epitome (8.2) relates Aemilius’ activities in and around Taras, the Roman devastation of the countryside and the taking of prisoners. Tarentine resistance to the invaders, as one would expect, brought no relief. It also should come as no surprise that Aemilius was kind to his Greek captives and this prompted the election of a pro-Roman stratêgos, Agis, who sought a reconciliation with the consul. Good sense could not prevail in such a polis, however. The arrival of some of Pyrrhus’ troops led to Agis’ deposition. Pyrrhus himself befriended another Tarentine aristocrat, Aristarchus, who, suspecting that he was being manipulated by Pyrrhus to political ends, defected to Rome. These are the names of the Tarentines Zonaras preserves, aristocratic, pro-Roman, and likely to have been included in sources for their relationship to Pyrrhus. Not so the demagogue, drunk, and bon vivant who all played their parts in the condottiere’s arrival, but not in a Byzantine epitome or in any historical reality.

CHAPTER 9 HISTORIOGRAPHY AND THE CAUSES OF THE ‘JUST’ WAR Annals cannot effect anything of value, neither making men more eager to defend the Republic nor slower to commit wrong. Moreover, to write under which consul a war began and under which it ended and who earned a triumph from it, and in that book not to say what deeds were done in war or furthermore what the senate decreed or what law or bill was passed, and not to relate by what plans matters were carried out: that is to tell stories to children, not to write histories. 1 Sempronius Asellio (Gel. 5.18.9)

By working through the available evidence, one can reconstruct a basic narrative of how the Tarentine War began. The Greeks and Romans fought a naval engagement, the outcome of which led to the expulsion of the Roman garrison from Thurii. Senatorial legates were then sent to Taras to complain about the injuries suffered and to demand the return of any prisoners. When they too met with expulsion, the Romans declared war, while the Tarentines sent to Pyrrhus for aid. However, as the above quotation of Sempronius Asellio makes clear, ancient historiography was interested in more than just the basic facts (cf. Cic. de Orat. 2.52–3). History, whether written by Greeks or Romans, was a complex process which required analyses of cause and effect.2 While we see this to greater and lesser extents in our sources for the initial phases of the Bellum Tarentinum, the historical Nam neque alacriores ad rempublicam defendundam, neque segniores ad rem perperam faciundam annales libri commovere quicquam possunt. Scribere autem bellum initum quo consule et quo confectum sit et quis triumphans introierit ex eo, et eo libro quae in bello gesta sint non praedicare aut interea quid senatus decreverit aut quae lex rogatiove lata sit neque quibus consiliis ea gesta sint iterare: id fabulas pueris narrare, non historias scribere. 2 J. Cobet, ‘Herodotus and Thucydides on war’ in Past Perspectives (1986), edd. I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, A. J. Woodman, 2, quotes Momigliano who observed about ancient historians: ‘They were interested in the causes of wars, not in causes of war as such’. 1

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

139

tradition fails us surrounding the first link in the chain of events, the naval battle. Consequentially, the evidence needs to be re-examined for clues as to why this happened, with full awareness of the inherent tension between the facts and an historian’s presentation of them.3 Any analysis of what precipitated this first hostile action encounters a number of obstacles, for example the practice of inventio and the fragmentary state of our sources. We cannot even determine exactly how many authors described the battle or in what kind of detail several known to have written about it did so. Of no less importance is the impact of ideology on historiography. Whatever motivated the Romans to go to war so often throughout their history, and this has generated considerable debate, historians in antiquity invariably represented the reasons for doing so as just.4 Fetial procedure guaranteed that the Romans were blameless, at least from the time that the priests or senatorial legates made the first journey to enemy territory. We have seen no different here; the Tarentines were consistently represented as unprovoked aggressors, prompted by their love of tryphê. As such, these exemplars of levitas and poor judgement served as foils for the Romans who were depicted as models of upright conduct. Nevertheless, every story has two sides and the Romans were undoubtedly not the only ones convinced that they were doing right at the time. If we are to come to grips with why the Bellum Tarentinum began, some attempt must be made to penetrate the rhetoric of the ‘just’ war. What grievances the Tarentines might have had do emerge from the surviving evidence, although the narration of the events in question does not always make them obvious. It is noteworthy that our earliest extant source does not appear to have reported the naval engagement at all. Polybius (1.6.5; 8.24) blamed Tarentine prosperity and the resultant arrogance or licentiousness which led to the mistreatment of Roman representatives and fear. These are more profound explanations for the origins of the conflict which seek to understand patterns of human behavior. In a way, Polybius almost exculpates the Greeks for what they did through the concept of the anacyclosis. In the competitive world of the ancient Mediterranean, their downfall was inevitable and served as a warning to the Romans who, from his perspective, had not yet been spoiled by success. The fact that Polybius only mentioned the mistreatment of the ambassadors on one occasion raises the possibility that what occurred was so notorious, so egregious, that nothing further needed See Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian 130. See J. Rich, ‘Fear, greed, and glory: the causes of Roman war-making in the middle Republic’ in War and Society in the Roman World (1993), edd. J. Rich and G. Shipley, 38–44, and Harris, WIRR 163–254. 3 4

140

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

to be said. Conversely, if the Tarentines refused to listen to the legates and expelled them from their city, the event becomes memorable because the Romans tried to give the Greeks an opportunity to make amends and they refused to act honorably. Guilt was now clearly established and no insult of the kind seen in the pages of Dionysius was necessary. At the same time, Polybius implied the Tarentines were also culpable for something which required the dispatch of an embassy. The surviving testimony of Florus, Appian, Cassius Dio, the Periochae of Livy, Orosius, and Zonaras tell us what that something was, although much of this evidence concerning why the Tarentines attacked is colored by inventio. We have seen how each author represented an increasingly innocent Roman squadron that fell prey to Greek anger, treachery, even drunkenness, and suffered ever greater losses. Orosius increased the number of commanders killed and claimed the no longer able-bodied were sold into slavery, casualties no other author had reported. Motives for the presence of the Roman ships in southern Italy varied from Appian’s voyage of inspection to an unspecified mission to Taras in Dio and Zonaras. Florus never offered an explanation as to why the Roman squadron was rowing towards shore, while Orosius said the ships were merely sailing by to an unnamed destination. In other words, none of these authors really seem to have known why the Romans were there. Rather, they were intent on fixing blame for the war squarely on the Greeks. To the present day, most scholars have followed Appian’s testimony that what led the Tarentines to attack was the violation of a treaty which stipulated the Romans could sail no farther than the Lacinian promontory. If my argument thus far is correct, both the demagogue Philocharis and his alleged agreement were historically fictional and must be rejected on the grounds that they are examples of rhetorical characterization. Appian made good use of reports (Just. 12.2.12; Liv. 8.17.9) of a treaty Alexander the Molossian was said to have reached with the Romans and added a clause, a lie of the sort a demagogue was likely to use to manipulate the masses. However, he does furnish more promising testimony which hints at why the Greeks would have willingly gone to war. Appian is the only source to mention the presence of a Roman garrison at Thurii which the Tarentines expelled after the battle at sea. One can easily imagine the threat this would have posed to the hêgemôn of the Italiote League. Taras had seen Neapolis ally itself with the Romans in 327/ 6 and must have feared the inexorable Roman encroachment on Magna Graecia.5 A crucial bit of evidence missing in all of our sources is when the people of Thurii asked for the Roman troops. One estimate, following the Periocha of Livy’s eleventh book, dates the arrival to c. 285 B.C. on the 5

See Lomas, RWG 44–7, and Oakley, Comm. 640–5.

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

141

grounds that Livy mentioned a campaign against the Lucanians in aid of the Greeks before going on to relate war with the Senones and the naval battle (Per. 12).6 However, Thurinis is not the reading in the two extant manuscripts. Rather, one encounters tyrrhenis, and no other evidence corroborates the accepted emendation of the corruption. A more serious problem arises if the Romans actually helped the people of Thurii in 285 and left some of their forces behind. The Tarentines would have tolerated the incursion of Roman power into what they considered their sphere of influence for at least three years without any complaint. While this might seem attractive given their reputation for enjoying luxury, such a languorous response is not consistent with the surviving evidence which depicted them as taking action quite decisively. In fact, they are said to have acted hastily, passionately, without contemplating the consequences of their actions, in some authors an impossibility because of their drunken anger. The deliberate exaggeration we have seen in these portraits might give one pause in accepting any of the information, not just the idea that the Tarentines reacted quickly to the presence of Romans at Thurii. Nevertheless, the arrival of Roman ambassadors at Taras in 281 and of Pyrrhus in 280 lend credibility to this aspect of the narrative. The leader of the Italiote League took decisive action when feeling threatened. Rather than choose 285 as the year in which the Romans established a new garrison in southern Italy, I would suggest 282. This is when C. Fabricius Luscinus concluded his successful campaigns against the Samnites, Bruttians, and Lucanians in relief of Thurii. It is also the only reliable evidence of Roman military intervention so far south to that date.7 The 6

115.

Wuilleumier, Tarente 101. Cf. Torelli, RRF 78–9; Lomas, RWG 52; and Urso, TXS

7 Pliny (Nat. 34.32) stated that the first statue dedicated by foreigners at Rome was that of the people of Thurii who thanked the plebeian tribune C. Aelius for a law against the Lucanians or, more specifically, against their leader. It remains unclear what this law was meant to accomplish, although Salmon, Samnium and the Samnites 283 n.1, thought that it should be attributed to the consul of 286, not to the tribune of 285. Cf. Broughton, MRR 187, and Torelli, RRF 78–9. The only evidence to link Aelius, about whom nothing further is known, to the tribunate of that specific year is the Periocha of Livy’s eleventh book with its mention of Roman campaigns against the Lucanians before the wars with the Senones in Book Twelve. Harris, WIRR 257, argued that Aelius could very well have waged war against the Lucanians. However, he noted the disparities in the evidence and nothing except the corrupt text of the Periocha supports the idea of actual military campaigns in the area of Thurii before the consulate of Fabricius. Aelius’ law might have resulted in Fabricius’ campaign in which case the Lucanian attacks on Thurii probably occurred c. 283, the year of the tribunate in question. Some confusion also exists around the identity of the Lucanian leader. Pliny named Sthennius Stallius who attacked Thurii twice before Fabricius came to the city’s aid later. Valerius Maximus

142

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

successful outcome, the Greeks there dedicated a statue in honor of Fabricius (Plin. Nat. 34.32), provided suitable conditions for the establishment of a garrison, even if no sources actually mentioned its installation. One can easily imagine that the request for Roman protection would have been controversial among the Greeks of Magna Graecia, much as Appian (Sam. 3.7.1) represented the outrage of the Tarentines. In general, Roman sources did not specify when the various poleis sought Roman defenders as several other examples make clear. Garrisons are noted, much after the fact, for Locri (Just. 18.1.9) and Croton (Zonar. 8.6), both in conjunction with the defections of their host cities to Pyrrhus some time prior to their recapture in 277.8 Rhegion proves the only exception, although questions exist about the date of the arrival of the city’s new defenders, as well as about their reasons for being there. According to Polybius (1.7.6–7), the Rhegines requested Roman troops at the time when Pyrrhus was to arrive in Italy, c. 280, fearing both what he might do and a Carthaginian attack from the sea. Livy (Per. 12; 28.28.2; 31.31.6) and Diodorus (22.1.2–3) concurred with him on when this happened. Dionysius (20.4.1–2) offered an alternative explanation which many have taken as evidence of a garrison in 282: Rhegion, like Thurii, sought protection from the Lucanians and Bruttians and held suspicions about Tarentine motives.9 There are certain chronological inconsistencies within his account, however. According to Dionysius (20.4.2–3), C. Fabricius left 1200 Sidicini and Campanians in Rhegion under the command of one Decius. Since Fabricius was consul in 282 and campaigned in modern day Calabria, this offers one possibility for Decius and his men to have taken up quarters. Whether the timing is correct is another matter and no other extant source connects Fabricius with Rhegion at this point in time nor did Dionysius indicate whether he had read this in another historian or made an inference of his own. His narrative related that prominent Rhegines demonstrated their hospitality by inviting the garrison commander to dine with them. At first, (1.8.6) identified Statius Statilius as the Lucanian commander whom Fabricius captured in 282. Münzer, RE, second series, vol. 3 col. 2140, dated Stallius to 285, but noted that he very well could be the same individual as Statilius. 8 See Torelli, RRF 95, 194–5. Cf. Scullard, CAH2 7.2 (1989) 539; Urso, TXS 115–8; and B. Bleckmann, Chiron 29 (1999) 127–37. Wuilleumier, Tarente 101, argued that the Romans are likely to have installed a garrison at Hipponion in 282, which the Bruttians had taken from the Greeks and the Romans renamed Vibo Valentia when they captured it (Str. 6.1.5) at an uncertain date. 9 See Torelli, RRF 97. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius vol. 1 52–3, provides a lucid explication of the problems presented by our sources. Dio (9.40.7) said that the Rhegines asked the Romans for a garrison, but did not offer a pretext.

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

143

their guest congratulated them on their prosperity, then envied them as unworthy of it, and finally plotted against them as if they were enemies. Decius called a council of his soldiers and announced to them that he had learnt that certain leading men of Rhegion had heard of Pyrrhus’ crossing into Italy and planned to kill the garrison and betray the city to him. The Epirote’s arrival dates these events to later than the spring of 280 in which case the Campanians and Sidicini had been in place for two years. One also notices that by this chronology, Decius was very slow to change his view of the people he protected nor is this the only difficulty. During the meeting (20.4.5), a messenger arrived with a letter containing the news that Pyrrhus sent a body of his soldiers to occupy Rhegion. One tradition held that Decius forged the letter himself. Other unnamed sources (20.4.6) said that the sender was none other than the consul C. Fabricius Luscinus. This crucial bit of testimony would date the conspiracy of Decius to 278, the only possibility since Pyrrhus was not in Italy prior to 280 and Fabricius had only been consul once before in 282.10 If the first-time consul left Decius in command of the garrison, now his subordinate needed four years to conspire against the Rhegines, while the hosts, who were supposed to have just learnt of Pyrrhus’ crossing, were accused of plotting to kill the Sidicinians and Campanians stationed in their city after the battles of Heraclea and Ausculum. In view of the problems encountered in the text of Dionysius, the date of 282 should be rejected, since most of the evidence in his own narrative supports a garrison at Rhegion after 280 rather than before. The inclusion of Lucanians and Bruttians (D. H. 20.1) in the coalition led by Pyrrhus gave the Rhegines ample reason to fear the forces of the condottiere and mistrust Tarentine motives as did the experience of Thurii. In all probability, this former, primarily Athenian colony first received ‘Roman’ troops whom Fabricius, in his consulate of 282, quartered there. How soon afterward Locri and Croton got their own garrisons remains something of a mystery. What Appian tells us is that the Tarentines reacted immediately to the Roman presence at Thurii. This was the cause of the attack on the Roman naval squadron. It also raises an interesting possibility about the site of the engagement. Florus, Dio, Orosius, and Zonaras set the battle at Taras, but we have seen the agenda behind what should be viewed as their choice of setting. All of them depicted the Tarentines as sitting in their theatre when they saw the Romans approaching or even just sailing past. These details had little to do with the destination of the Roman squadron and far more to do with the effective use of stereotypes derived from the likes of Plato, Theopompus, and Strabo in an effort to convey 10

Cf. Torelli, RRF 180–1, and Bleckmann, Chiron 29 (1999) 133–5.

144

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

Roman innocence. Historians had to take account of what their predecessors had said, but the increasing embellishment in the narratives we have seen suggests that very little was written for the better part of two centuries after the Roman duumvir was killed. The Periocha of Livy’s Book Twelve informs us that a battle took place and that the Romans suffered losses, but does not provide a site much less a reason for the Romans to have been in southern Italy or for the Tarentines to have attacked. Only the surviving text of Appian offers explanations for the Greeks to have initiated hostilities and once again his work can perhaps help us determine the duumvir’s destination when he and his squadron were intercepted. Like the Periochae, Appian did not specify an exact location. The Roman ships were inspecting Magna Graecia which could have put them virtually anywhere in or near the Gulf of Tarentum. Some have speculated that they were on their way to newly established Roman colonies on the Adriatic or even planned to support an attempt to overthrow the democracy at Taras. A more attractive proposal attaches the duumvir and his ten ships to a consul. Thus, the squadron was already operating around or sailing en route to Thurii in support of Fabricius.11 Meanwhile, at Taras Philocharis incited his fellow citizens to attack, although Appian did not say if it was the sight of Roman ships approaching which caused this reaction. Similarly, we are not told if the demagogue interrupted a performance in the theatre or spoke in the agora or somewhere else. Philocharis simply reminded his fellow citizens that the Romans were not supposed to sail past the Lacinian promontory which they would have passed en route to Thurii on the other side of the Gulf of Tarentum. He then successfully roused the Tarentines to send forces to Thurii, by land and by sea. The naval engagement resulted, maybe even unexpectedly, followed by the expulsion of the Roman garrison and of the leading men of the city. The erstwhile Athenian colony was sacked. This kind of treatment could very well have inspired pro-Roman elements at Locri, Croton, and Rhegion to seek protection from the violent threat now posed by the Tarentines, in addition to their traditional foes, the Lucanians and Bruttians. The fate of Thurii would have persuaded those less favorably disposed to go along, particularly when the Tarentines did not respond to the invasion of the consul Aemilius Barbula in 281 as they awaited the arrival of Pyrrhus. This chronology makes sense if Appian proves reliable concerning these events, arguably a questionable conclusion given the extent of embellishment detectable in his narrative. Nevertheless, one important factor Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War 24–5. Cf. R. E. Mitchell, ‘The Historical and Historiographical Prominence of the Pyrrhic War’ in The Craft of the Ancient Historian (1985), edd. J. W. Eadie and J. Ober, 305. 11

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

145

supports the credibility of his testimony. Appian’s inexactness about where the naval engagement took place or about the circumstances under which the Tarentines decided to attack typifies writers working in the annalistic tradition who ‘rarely give extensive accounts of the preliminaries to Rome’s early wars’.12 Where these sources were not silent involve wrongs suffered by the Romans, although not all injuries received the same attention. Multiple authors reported the naval battle, Roman losses, and the mistreatment of the senatorial legates. More scattered and infrequent was information regarding garrisons. Among the extant accounts, Justin (18.1.9), and thus Pompeius Trogus, recorded the Locrians betrayal of their Roman defenders in defecting to Pyrrhus. Similarly, Zonaras (8.6), and therefore very likely Cassius Dio, mentioned this in passing and preserved the same information about Croton. Appian alone related the fate of the garrison at Thurii solely because of its expulsion, a detail doubtless found in one of his predecessors and not evidence of his invention. While the Romans must have known that quartering soldiers in one or more Greek cities could very well have been perceived as indicative of ambitions to bring all poleis of Magna Graecia under their control, we should hesitate before concluding that the absence of reports regarding their installations and on-going presence is representative of suppression in a deliberate attempt to avoid blame for provoking war, particularly in an era when no Romans were writing history. Garrisons in and of themselves were no more interesting than the routine guard duty their soldiers carried out day after day. What gave them significance was not the quotidian, but when something happened to them, such as when revolts brought Greek cities out of the Roman sphere of influence, if only temporarily. In the case of Rhegion, what made its garrison noteworthy was the savage treatment the Campanians and Sidicini, led by Decius, wrought upon its citizens.13 More to the point, the perpetrators did not go unpunished as several accounts make clear. Diodorus, Dionysius, and Appian (D. S. 22.1.2–3; D. H. 20.5; App. Sam. 3.9.2–3) agree that for his part Decius was blinded by a doctor.14 Dionysius and Appian further relate that Fabricius restored order and had 12 Oakley, Comm. 640. G. De Sanctis, Problemi di Storia Antica (1932) 233, complained of the deficiencies with regard to site and course of action in the battle narratives of Sallust, Livy, and Tacitus, the latter of whom received a defense from K. Wellesley, ‘Tacitus as a Military Historian’ in Tacitus (1969), ed. T. A. Dorey, 63–97. 13 For references, see J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy Books XXXI–XXXIII (1973) 132, and Lomas, RWG 52 n. 80 14 Dionysius is the only author to give the doctor a name, Dexicrates, the meaning of which, ‘fortunate power’, ‘clever power’, suits the context very well. I am tempted to suggest the name be seen as a possible play on ‘power over Decius’. Cf. Bleckmann, Chiron 29 (1999) 140–1.

146

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

the conspirators taken to Rome where they were executed, while Decius committed suicide. Thus, rather than serving as an example of how the Romans suffered wrong, Rhegion demonstrated Rome’s concern with fair and just treatment of allies.15 Furthermore, the conduct of Decius offered subject matter fit for dramatic narrative, attracting historians’ interests in a way the garrisons of Thurii, Locri, and Croton apparently did not. In the end, our sources do make a reconstruction of how and why the Bellum Tarentinum began possible, including determining the likely cause of the naval battle, but only if we avoid half of the evidence which purports to represent the Greek perspective. Appian’s report that the Tarentines were angered when the people of Thurii turned to Rome for help against the Bruttians and Lucanians rather than to them suggests a real cause of the war, even if one of his sources or he himself supplied the sentiment. The hêgemôn of the Italiote League attempted to resist the diminution of its power and the collapse of the organization itself. Thurii, doubtless reassured by Roman successes further north against Gauls, Etruscans, Samnites, and Lucanians, wanted and received protection which lasted as long as the consular army was present. As for Roman motivations, most surviving accounts are content with the notion of the ‘just’ war. Wronged on two separate occasions, the Romans were portrayed over the course of time as increasingly innocent victims whose multiple and patient attempts to seek redress were spurned. In part, these depictions must reflect a paucity of evidence from the period, tempered in addition by the fact that history is so often written by the victor. Also at work was the conviction that Rome entered its wars justly, a view bolstered by the testimony of Polybius who blamed Tarentine licentiousness, particularly in connection with his mention of the treatment of the Roman ambassadors. Later historians chose to embellish the naval battle and what L. Postumius Megellus suffered. What they did not do, contrary to the historian’s interest in the analysis of causes, was to elaborate on what Rome stood to gain from its conflict with Taras and its allies. Quite the opposite, they emphasized Roman virtues which in turn supported the ideology of the ‘just’ war. For a modern analogy, one might very well look to the Bush administration’s rhetoric regarding the war in Iraq which has consistently sought to minimize the number of reasons for invasion. Resolution 1441 was intoned again and again before coalition forces entered the Dionysius (20.5) claimed that the senate dispatched a general in aid of the Rhegines as soon as they learnt their fate at the hands of Decius and his cohorts. While this smacks of exaggeration, one need not doubt Roman sincerity or interest in punishing the wrong-doers. More troublesome is his report that Fabricius dismissed the entire garrison, a view contradicted by Livy (31.31.6–7) who related that it remained in place for ten years. Cf. Lomas, RWG 52. 15

Chapter 9: Historiography and the Causes of the ‘Just’ War

147

country. When weapons of mass destruction failed to appear, the good done by eliminating a tyrant supplanted them as a justification for operation ‘Iraqi Freedom’. Charges of imperialism and economic gain continue to be denied as the appearance of the ‘just’ war demands. Perhaps in the Roman world, the potential rewards of warfare were so obvious as to not merit comment, particularly for historians who lived after the tremendous successes of the third and second centuries B.C. Anyone familiar with the Iliad knew that Achilles went to Troy for the honor of the Atreides (1.149–60), or at least that is what he said in anger, but they would also know of the fantastic wealth he and the other Greek heroes expected to take home. As such, we must be suspicious of silence regarding the benefits of waging war. However, historians did not keep quiet about what the Romans won once Taras succumbed to defeat in 272. The state profited handsomely as exemplified by the richest triumph to date (Flor. Epit. 1.13.27–8). Postumius, meanwhile, had earned renown for his stoic devotion to duty almost ten years before, the only reward suitable for the appearance of the ‘just’ war.

CONCLUSION In Cicero’s De Oratore (2.62), M. Antonius asked who was ignorant of the first law of history: not daring to tell lies (Nam quis nescit, primam esse historiae legem, ne quid falsi dicere audeat?). Next, he endorsed daring to say something true (Deinde ne quid veri non audeat?), an indication of the courage necessary to write history because of the disagreement, criticism, and disfavor one could incur, but also an indictment of those who suppressed truth in favor of flattery. Along the same lines, Antonius stressed avoiding any suspicion of favoritism or of rivalry (Ne qua suspicio gratiae sit in scribendo? Ne qua simultatis?). These were the foundations of history known to all (haec scilicet fundamenta nota sunt omnibus). However, flattery and partiality were hardly issues for the historiographers we have seen, many of whom were writing more than a few centuries after the Tarentines’ absorption into the Roman empire. What they needed were explanations to account for the Greeks’ defeat beyond what happened on the battlefields. These were abundant enough, to be found in a range of authors from Plato to Polybius. By basing narrative on such testimony, one could avoid violating Antonius’ injunction of not daring to tell lies. This is exactly what Dionysius of Halicarnassus was, in my view, the first to do for these specific events. However, this is putting the cart before the horse. As we have seen, ancient historians were also interested in the causes that led to war. Polybius provided the first extant evidence in this matter with a brief notice of an insult to Roman ambassadors which resulted in the Tarentine decision to summon Pyrrhus. Analysis of subsequent and more elaborate narratives shows how precious little information survived for historians of the Augustan age and later. The annalistic tradition related a naval battle, Roman losses, the expulsion of fetials sent to southern Italy to demand reparations, and the Roman decision to go to war. Doubtless, these accounts presented a pro-Roman perspective, but we should not expect that it was particularly elaborate or very interested in the Tarentines. This ‘kernel’ or ‘core’ is detectable for several reasons. Thanks to our fortuitous possession of a number of sources on the beginning of the Bellum Tarentinum, in spite of the less than ideal condition of most, we can compare them for consistency in content and language, the all important res et verba (de orat. 2.63) of each historian’s exaedificatio. For example, recurrent words and phrases in Latin give us some idea of the

Conclusion

149

language Livy is likely to have used, although the variations preclude any certainty about the appearance of his actual text. Recent scholarship has raised awareness of the different techniques and aims employed in the construction of exaedificationes. Enargeia, focalization, stereotyping, inter- and intratextuality, punning, all helped in the creation of vivid narrative which allowed the audience to experience what a particular author wrote, often with a moral point in mind. Inventio was an on-going, dynamic process which, in this case, began relatively late and resulted from the paucity of contemporary sources. This practice also meant that an author like Dionysius was not without resources when confronted with the difficulty of producing a readable, rhetorically polished account. There was nothing historically unlikely about the denizens of Taras including a demagogue, a drunk, and a man opposed to the idea of summoning Pyrrhus in their number. To create such characters, a knowledge of Aristotle and Thucydides sufficed in the first instance, Plato and Theopompus in the second, and any number of authors in the third, among them Timaeus, Hieronymus, Duris, Proxenus, and Polybius. All one needed to know is that the Tarentines had a democracy and called Pyrrhus to their aid. What might be surprising is the extent to which Dionysius drew upon a wider literature for exempla and to lend additional details and ‘truth’ to his account. Diodorus, or some other source on Alexander, told the story of Thais. A. Postumius Albinus, uncertain regarding the fluency of his Greek (in a statement of false modesty?), served as a model for L. Postumius Megellus, his own ancestor, who exposed the Tarentines’ lack of gravitas. However, Megellus would complain of Tarentine drunkenness just as the Spartan Megillus did in Platos’ Laws. Plato and more particularly Theopompus described behavior which was reminiscent of the Odyssey’s suitors. Ennius and Lycophron, meanwhile, had characterized the conflict between Rome and Pyrrhus as a new Trojan War. Thus, references to epic were not out of place. Clearchus of Soli too portrayed a Tarentine polis dedicated to luxury and together with Plato and Theopompus contributed to the creation of Thais, Philonides, and Meton. Theophrastus helped Dionysius to imagine the particular actions of one of Taras’ most shameless denizens. After all, Aristotle’s praiseworthy democracy was demonstrably a failure since it could not defend itself successfully. Authors like Thucydides, Euripides, Xenophon, and Theopompus offered plenty of extra commentary in this regard. Critical attitudes towards other Greeks hardly originated among the Romans. Finally, the phlyax plays of Rhinthon or some other Tarentine provided a setting for the events Dionysius chose to elaborate, their tragi-comic character particularly well suited to the task. References to the abovementioned authorities illustrate a paradox: the desire to tell a truth which was strictly speaking unknowable, at least in any

150

Conclusion

way which made history worth telling, issues of objectivity aside. They also show that a knowledge of literature, historical and otherwise, was essential in both creating and spotting the exaedificatio. There is a danger that we equate the theoretical nature of the fundamenta with the ‘facts’, with ‘what really happened’. In reality, there was more than one way to tell the truth, and the historical ‘core’ is more complex than it might at first appear. Exaedificatio provided an opportunity to demonstrate one’s erudition and rhetorical prowess through the construction of a densely allusive narrative as one member of an educated elite writing for others. These were the individuals who would have perceived, among other things, the puns on the names of Philonides and Meton. As a part of this group, subsequent historiographers had to decide how to respond to Dionysius’ account, and then to each new one that came along before them. The process is not unlike the theme and variation seen, and heard, in musical forms from baroque to jazz to flamenco. Granted a composer such as J. S. Bach wrote all twenty-one variations of his ‘Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor’ (BWV 582) so admired by Robert Schumann. Similarly, the Piobaireachd of the Scottish Highland bagpipe involves increasingly elaborate embellishment of a ground. However, many composers and musicians in a myriad of styles ‘purloin’ and quote phrases, melodies, and rhythms from a wide variety of genres, especially when it comes to creating a theme and elaborating on it.1 As Stravinsky supposedly observed, ‘a good composer borrows; a great composer steals’. One must know the ground before one can improvise a variation. To return to ancient historiography, recognition of inventio meant that one was free to engage in the same practice, rejecting some elements and retaining others. Normal scrutiny for accuracy and reliability still applied. Persistent res et verba in multiple accounts hint at a historical ‘core’, but not all do. Philonides himself stands out as a shining example. His reappearance and that of Meton may be explained by the authority of Dionysius. One did not want to be charged with ignorance by failing to acknowledge One might look to the example of Flamenco which sought to infuse new life into what was becoming a stale music for tourists by the 1960s. Through the study of classical guitar technique and drawing upon jazz, Latin music, and even the blues and rock for inspiration, musicians/composers like Paco de Lucia, Pata Negra, and Ketama have breathed new life into the framework of the traditional forms, see T. Mitchell, Flamenco Deep Song (1994) 216–27. Brown, The Making of Late Antiquity 8, included the rhetoric-music analogy of Henri-Irenée Marrou who: ‘likened the impromptu performances of the master rhetoricians of the late classical age to the virtuoso techniques of a Hot Jazz trumpeter; they could bring out themes deeply embedded in their own memory and held at readiness for themselves and their hearers by centuries of tradition and could weave such themes into new. These new combinations often had a topical relevance all the more cogent for being expressed in ancient, easily intelligible terms’. 1

Conclusion

151

his work.2 At the same time, Dionysius told great stories. However, as learned and elaborate as his accounts were, they were not perfect nor were anyone else’s. Consequentially, authors developed several strategies, consciously or not, to distinguish their narratives from those of others. What was already elaborated or embellished often became summarized or shortened. Appian omitted any details of Thais’ licentiousness, for example. What was vague historiographers explicated. Valerius Maximus stated the substance used in the insult of Postumius clearly, while later authors opted for less precise terminology. They also corrected one another’s accounts. Dionysius’ Postumius did not quite measure up to the mos maiorum he embodied. Therefore, Valerius’ Roman delegation said nothing beyond the demands they had been instructed to deliver. Plutarch’s Meton was an upstanding citizen, and thus worthy to be written about while Cassius Dio’s version did not drink alone. What Tarentine would? Historiographers also introduced new elements and exempla into their narratives. In some cases, these derived from a close reading of a predecessor’s account. Appian called his Thais Philocharis, quite likely a new pun à la Dionysius which demonstrated his awareness of Tarentine stereotypes. He and Dio made the citizens of Taras pay close attention to Roman attire, a reaction to Dionysius’ participle parathrou`nte" which had the Greeks watching Postumius closely. Other innovations came from wider readings. Valerius Maximus modelled the behavior of the senatorial legates on Livy’s representation of the men sent to Carthage at the beginning of the Second Punic War. Florus made reference to Vergil in a phrase which should have led one to contemplate Pallas’ manners and the Tarentines’ lack thereof. Dio offered the Milesians as an analogy for the Tarentines. The appearance of a striking phrase borrowed from Herodotus tips off the audience to the exemplum. Unfortunately, not all references were so obvious or specific as Dio’s to Plato when the former depicted the Tarentines as drinking one afternoon during the Dionysia. Some authors provided more clues than others, Dio more than Appian for example. Some words do not evoke any one text or model. In the end, we are better at observing how the exaedificatio shifted and changed than at always determining precise sources, or the specifics of the historical ‘core’ about the war’s beginning. Nevertheless, we have a better understanding of how these exaedificationes could be constructed. Long-held suspicions about considerable embellishment were well founded, but the added details turn out to be more true than many suspected. Cf. Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography 106: ‘It is true that an historian may reject this or that detail, but he does not abandon the framework already established by his predecessors. This is why, to take one example, Quintus Curtius remarks that he reports more than he believes: he wants to show himself a reliable and knowledgeable recorder of the tradition’. 2

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY Adams, J. N., Bilingualism and the Latin Language (Cambridge, 2003). Arnaud-Lindet, M.-P., Orose. Histoires (Contre les Paiens) (Paris, 1990). Badian, E., ‘The Early Historians’, in Latin Historians, T. A. Dorey, ed. (New York, 1966). Balsdon, J. P. V. D., Romans and Aliens (Chapel Hill, 1979). Beck, H. and Walter, U., Die Frühen Römischen Historiker I (Darmstadt, 2001). Berrendonner, C., ‘La formation de la tradition sur M’. Curius Dentatus et C. Fabricius Luscinus: Un homme nouveau peut-il être un grand homme?’, in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique, M. Coudry and T. Späth, edd. (Paris, 2001), 97–116. Bird, H. W., The Breviarium Ab Urbe Condita of Eutropius (Liverpool, 1993). Biville, F., ‘The Graeco-Romans and Graeco-Latin: A Terminological Framework for Cases of Bilingualism’, in Bilingualism in Ancient Society, J. N. Adams, M. Janse, and S. Swain, edd. (Oxford, 2002), 77–102. Bleckman, B., ‘Rom und die Kampaner von Rhegion’, Chiron 29 (1999), 123–46. Bloomer, W. M., Valerius Maximus and the Rhetoric of the New Nobility (Chapel Hill, 1992). Bosworth, A. B., From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation (Oxford, 1988). ‘Plus ça change … . Ancient Historians and their Sources’, Classical Antiquity 22.2 (2003), 167–97. Bradford, A. S., With Arrow, Sword and Spear (Westport, 2001). Brauer, Jr., G., Taras: Its History and Coinage (New Rochelle, 1986). Bravo, M. and Griffin, M., ‘Un Frammento del libro XI di Tito Livio?’, Athenaeum 66 (1988), 447–521. Briscoe, J., A Commentary on Livy Books XXXI–XXXIII (Oxford, 1973). Broughton, T. R. S., The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, vol. 1 (Atlanta, 1986). Brown, P., The Making of Late Antiquity (Cambridge, 1993). Brunt, P. A., ‘On Historical Fragments and Epitomes’, CQ n.s. 30 (1980), 477–94. Cary, M., ‘The Early Roman Treaties with Tarentum and Rhodes’, JPhil 35 (1920), 165–73. Ciaceri, E., Storia della Magna Grecia, vol. 3. (Milan, 1932). Cobet, J., ‘Herodotus and Thucydides on war’, in Past Perspectives, I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, edd. (Cambridge, 1986), 1–18. Combès, R., Valère Maxime. Faits et dits mémorables, vol. 1 (Paris, 1995). Cook, R. M., Greek Painted Pottery (New York, 1997). Cornell, T. J., ‘The Value of the Literary Tradition Concerning Archaic Rome’, in Social Struggles in Archaic Rome, K. Raaflaub, ed. (Berkeley, 1986), 52–76. ‘The formation of the historical tradition of early Rome’, in Past Perspectives, I. S.

Select Bibliography

153

Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, edd. (Cambridge, 1986), 67–86. ‘The Conquest of Italy’, CAH2 7.2 (Cambridge, 1989), 351–419. The Beginnings of Rome (New York, 1995). David, J.-M., ‘Les étapes historiques de la construction de la figure de Coriolan’, in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique, M. Coudry and T. Späth, edd. (Paris, 2001), 18–25. Davidson, J., ‘The Gaze in Polybius’ Histories’, JRS 81 (1991), 10–24. De Juliis, E. M., Taranto (Bari, 2000). De Sanctis, G., Problemi di Storia Antica (Bari, 1932). De Sensi Sestito, G., ‘Taranto post-Architea nel giudizio di Timeo. Nota a Strabo 6.3.4 C280’, 11a Miscellanea Greca e Romana (1987), 84–113. De Souza, P., Piracy in the Greco-Roman World (Cambridge, 2002). Derow, P. S., ‘Kleemporos’, Phoenix 27 (1973), 118–34. Drummond, A., ‘Rome in the fifth century I: the social and economic framework’, CAH2 7.2 (1989), 113–71. Dunbar, N., Aristophanes: Birds (Oxford, 1995). Errington, R. M., ‘The Alleged Syro-Macedonian Pact and the Origin of the Second Macedonian War’, Athenaeum 49 (1971), 336–54. ‘Rome and Greece to 205 B.C.’, CAH2 8 (Cambridge, 1989), 81–106. Evans, J. D., The Art of Persuasion (Ann Arbor, 1992). Feldherr, A., Spectacle and Society in Livy’s History (Berkeley, 1998). Ferrary, J.-L., Philhellénisme et Impérialisme (Rome, 1988). Flower, M., Theopompus of Chios (Oxford, 1994). Forni, G. and Angeli Bertinelli, M. G., ‘Pompeo Trogo come fonte di storia’, ANRW 30.2 (Berlin, 1982), 1298–362. Forsythe, G., The Historian L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi and the Roman Annalistic Tradition (Lanham, 1994). Fowler, D., ‘Epic in the Middle of the Wood’, in Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations, A. Sharrock and H. Morales, edd. (Oxford, 2000), 89–113. Franke, P. R., ‘Pyrrhus’, CAH2 7.2 (1989), 456–85. ‘Dolmetschen in hellenistischer Zeit’, in Zum Umgang mit fremden Sprachen in der griechisch-römischen Antike, C. W. Müller, K. Sier, and J. Werner, edd. (Stuttgart, 1992), 85–96. Gabba, E., Dionysius and the History of Archaic Rome (Berkeley, 1991). Gattinoni, F. Landucci, Duride di Samo (Rome, 1997). Geffcken, K. A., Comedy in the Pro Caelio (Leiden, 1973). Giannelli, C., ‘Gli interventi di Cleonimo e di Agatocle in Magna Grecia’, CS 11 (1974), 353–80. Gowing, A. M., The Triumviral Narratives of Appian and Cassius Dio (Ann Arbor, 1992). Green, P., Alexander of Macedon 356–323 B.C. (Berkeley, 1991). Griffin, J., Latin Poets and Roman Life (Chapel Hill, 1985). Griffin, M., ‘Cynicism and the Romans: Attraction and Repulsion’, in The Cynics. The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and its Legacy, R. B. Branham and M.-O. GouletCazé, edd. (Berkeley, 1996), 190–204.

154

Select Bibliography

Gruen, E. S., The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome, 2 vol. (Berkeley, 1984). Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome (Ithaca, 1992). Hahn, I. and Németh, G., ‘Appian und Rom’, ANRW 34.1 (1994), 364–402. Harris, W.V., Rome in Etruria and Umbria (Oxford, 1971). War and Imperialism in Republican Rome 327–70 B.C. (New York, 1979). Hellegouarc’h, J., Eutrope. Abrégé d’Histoire Romaine (Paris, 1999). Helm, J. J., ‘Aeschylus’ Genealogy of Morals’ TAPA 134.1 (2004) 23–54. Henderson, J., The Maculate Muse (New Haven, 1975). Hinds, S., Allusion and Intertext (Cambridge, 1998). Hodge, A. T., Ancient Greek France (London, 1998). Hoffmann, W., ‘Der Kampf zwischen Rom und Tarent im Urteil der antiken Überlieferung’, Hermes 71 (1936), 11–24. Hornblower, S., A Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 1. (Oxford, 1991). Jebb, Sir R. C., Sophocles. Oedipus Tyrannus (Bristol, 1981). Kaimio, J., The Romans and the Greek Language (Helsinki, 1979). Kebric, R. B., In the Shadow of Macedon: Duris of Samos (Wiesbaden, 1977). Kraay, C. M., Archaic and Classical Greek Coins (London, 1976). Krueger, D., ‘The Bawdy and Society’, in The Cynics. The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and its Legacy, R. B. Branham and M.-O. Goulet-Cazé, edd. (Berkeley, 1996), 222– 39. Lamboley, J.-L., Recherches sur les Messapiens IVe-IIe siècle avant J.-C. (Rome, 1996). Lefkowitz, M. R., ‘Pyrrhus’ Negotiations with the Romans, 280-278 B.C.’, HSCP 64 (1959), 147–78. Lévêque, P., Pyrrhos (Paris, 1957). Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1987–2000). Lippolis, E., Fra Taranto e Roma (Taranto, 1997). Lomas, K., Rome and the Western Greeks (New York, 1993). Lynch, J. P., ‘Laocoön and Sinon: Virgil, Aeneid 2.40–198’, G & R, 2nd ser., vol. 27.2 (1980), 170–179. Marincola, J., Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography (Cambridge, 1997). Greek Historians (Oxford, 2001). Maslakov, G., ‘Valerius Maximus and Roman Historiography’, ANRW 32.2.1 (1984), 437–96. McDonald, A. H., ‘Theme and Style in Roman Historiography’, JRS 65 (1975), 1–10. Meister, K., ‘Agathocles’, CAH2 7.1 (Cambridge, 1984), 384-411. Milan, A., ‘I «socii navales» di Roma’, CS 10.2 (1973) 193–221. Miles, G. B., Livy: Reconstructing Early Rome (Ithaca, 1995). Millar, F., A Study of Cassius Dio (Oxford, 1964). Mitchell, R. E., ‘The Historical and Historiographical Prominence of the Pyrrhic War’, in The Craft of the Ancient Historian. Essays in Honor of Chester G. Starr, J. W. Eadie and J. Ober, edd. (Lanham and London, 1985), 303–30. Mitchell, T., Flamenco. Deep Song (New Haven, 1994). Momigliano, A., Studies in Historiography (New York, 1966). ‘The origins of Rome’, CAH2 7.2 (Cambridge, 1989), 52–112.

Select Bibliography

155

Murgia, C., ‘Language and Style of Livy’, in Livius: Aspekte seines Werkes, W. Schuller, ed. (Konstanz, 1993), 89–109. Musti, D., Tendenze nella storiografia romana e greca su Roma arcaica (Rome, 1970). Niese, B., Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten, vol. 2 (Gotha, 1899). Oakley, S. P., A Commentary on Livy Books VI–X, vol. 2 (Oxford, 1998). Ogilvie, R. M., A Commentary on Livy Books 1–5 (Oxford, 1965). Ogilvie, R. M. and Drummond, A., ‘Sources for Early Roman History’, CAH2 7.2 (1989), 1–28. Palmer, R. E. A, ‘A New Fragment of Livy Throws Some Light on the Roman Postumii and Latin Gabii’, Athenaeum 78 (1990), 5–18. Rome and Carthage at Peace (Stuttgart, 1997). Pearson, L., Greek Historians of the West (Atlanta, 1987). Pédech, P., Trois Historiens Méconnus: Théopompe–Duris–Phylarque (Paris, 1989). Pelling, C. B. R., ‘Plutarch and Roman Politics’, in Past Perspectives, I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, edd. (Cambridge, 1986), 159–87. Penelas, M. ‘The Arab Historian and the Christian Sources: the Historiae of Orosius’, in La verdad tamizada: cronistas, reporteros e historiadores ante su publico, A. P. Jiménez and G. Cruz Andreotti, edd. (Madrid, 2001), 179–200 Peter, H. P., Historicorum Romanorum Reliquiae (Stuttgart, 1993). Petrocheilos, N. K., Roman Attitudes to the Greeks (Athens, 1974). Phillips, J. E., ‘Current Research in Livy’s First Decade’, ANRW 30.2 (New York, 1982), 998–1057. Porsia, F. and Scionti, M., Taranto (Rome, 1989). Potter, D. S., ‘Roman Religion: Ideas and Actions’, in Life, Death and Entertainment, D. S. Potter and D. M. Mattingly, edd. (Ann Arbor, 1999), 113–67. Literary Texts and the Roman Historian (New York, 1999). Pritchett, W. K., Dionysius of Halicarnassus: On Thucydides (Berkeley, 1975). Purcell, N., ‘South Italy in the Fourth Century B.C.’, CAH2 6 (Cambridge, 1994), 381– 403. Rawson, E., The Spartan Tradition in European Thought (Oxford, 1991). Rhodes, P. J., ‘“Epidamnus is a City”: On Overinterpreting Thucydides’, Histos 2 (1998), www.dur.ac.uk/Classics/histos/1998/rhodes.html. Rich, J., ‘Fear, greed, and glory: the causes of Roman war-making in the middle Republic’, in War and Society in the Roman World, J. Rich and G. Shipley, edd. (New York, 1993), 38–68. Richter, G. and Milne, M., Shapes and Names of Athenian Vases (New York, 1935). Rohrbacher, D., The Historians of Late Antiquity (New York, 2002). Roller, M. B., ‘Exemplarity in Roman Culture: The Cases of Horatius Cocles and Cloelia’, CP 99.1 (2004), 1–56. Rood, T., Thucydides: Narrative and Explanation (New York, 1998). Rowland, R. J., ‘Rome’s earliest imperialism’, Latomus 42 (1983), 749–62. Saller, R., ‘Anecdotes as Historical Evidence for the Principate’, G & R, 2nd ser., 27.1 (1980), 69–83.

156

Select Bibliography

Salmon, E. T., Samnium and the Samnites (Cambridge, 1967). Scafuro, A., ‘Livy’s Comic Narrative of the Bacchanalia’, Helios 16.2 (1986), 119–42. Schmitt, H. H., Die Staatsverträge des Altertums, vol. 3 (München, 1969). Schultze, C., ‘Dionysius of Halicarnassus and his audience’, in Past Perspectives, I. S. Moxon, J. D. Smart, and A. J. Woodman, edd. (Cambridge, 1986), 121–41. Scullard, H. H., ‘Carthage and Rome’, CAH2 7.2 (Cambridge, 1989), 486–572. ‘The Carthaginians in Spain’, CAH2 8 (Cambridge, 1989), 17–43. Shackleton Bailey, D. R., Valerius Maximus. Memorable Doings and Sayings (Cambridge, 2000). Sharrock, A., ‘Intratextuality: Texts, Parts, and (W)holes in Theory’ in Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations, A. Sharrock and H. Morales, edd. (Oxford, 2000), 1–39. Shipley, G., The Greek World after Alexander 323–30 B.C. (New York, 2000). Skutsch, O., The ‘Annales’ of Q. Ennius (Oxford, 1985). Sommerstein, A. H., Aristophanes: Birds (Warminster, 1987). Späth, T., ‘Erzählt, Erfunden: Camillus. Literarische Konstruktion und soziale Normen’, in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique, M. Coudry and T. Späth, edd. (Paris, 2001), 341–412. Taplin, O., Comic Angels (Oxford, 1993). Tchernia, A., Le Vin de Italie Romaine (Rome, 1986). Thiel, J. H., A History of Roman Sea-Power Before the Second Punic War (Amsterdam, 1954). Thomas, R. F., ‘Virgil’s Georgics and the Art of Reference’, HSCP 90 (1986), 171–98. Torelli, M. R., Rerum Romanarum Fontes (Pisa, 1978). Trendall, A. D., Phlyax Vases, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement 19 (London, 1967). Ungern-Sternberg, J. von, ‘Formation of the “Annalistic Tradition”’, in Social Struggles in Archaic Rome, K. Raaflaub, ed. (Berkeley, 1986), 77–104. Urso, G., Taranto e gli xenikoì strategoí (Rome, 1998). Usher, S., ‘The Style of Dionysius of Halicarnassus in the “Antiquitates Romanae”’, ANRW 30.1 (1982), 817–38. Valente, A., La storia di Taranto (Taranto, 1899). Vasaly, A., Representations: Images of the World in Ciceronian Oratory (Berkeley, 1993). Vigourt, A., ‘M’. Curius Dentatus et C. Fabricius Luscinus: Les grands hommes ne sont pas exceptionnels’, in L’Invention des grands hommes de la Rome antique, M. Coudry and T. Späth, edd. (Paris, 2001), 117–29. Walbank, F. W., A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 1–2 (Oxford, 1957–67). Polybius (London, 1972). Polybius, Rome and the Hellenistic World (Cambridge, 2002). Walker, A. D., ‘Enargeia and the Spectator in Greek Historiography’ TAPA 123 (1993), 353–77. Wallace-Hadrill, A., ‘Image and Authority in the Coinage of Augustus’, JRS 76 (1986), 66–87. Watson, A., International Law in Archaic Rome (Baltimore, 1993).

Select Bibliography

157

Webber, A., ‘The Hero Tells his Name: Formula and Variation in the Phaeacian Episode of the Odyssey’, TAPA 119 (1989), 1–13. Weis, R., ‘Zur Kenntnis des Griechischen im Rom der republikanischen Zeit’, in Zum Umgang mit fremden Sprachen in der griechisch-römischen Antike, C. W. Müller, K. Sier, and J. Werner, edd. (Stuttgart, 1992), 137–42. Wellesley, K., ‘Tacitus as a Military Historian’, in Tacitus, T. A. Dorey, ed. (London, 1969), 63–97. Wiseman, T. P., Clio’s Cosmetics (Totowa, 1979). ‘Practice and Theory in Roman Historiography’, History 66 (1981), 375–93. Historiography and Imagination (Exeter, 1994). Remus (Cambridge, 1995). Roman Drama and Roman History (Exeter, 1998). Woodman, A. J., ‘Self Imitation and the Substance of History’, in Creative Imitation and Latin Literature, D. West and A. J. Woodman, edd. (London, 1979), 143–55. Rhetoric in Classical Historiography (Portland, 1988). ‘Tacitus, Annals 15.36–7’, in Author and Audience in Latin Literature, A. J. Woodman and J. Powell, edd. (Cambridge, 1992), 173–88. Woodman, A. J. and Kraus, C. S., Latin Historians (Glasgow, 1997). Wuilleumier, P., Tarente des Origines à la Conquête Romaine (Paris, 1968).

INDEX Aborigines: 50–2 Achaia: 80 Achilles: 23–4, 33, 49, 61, 124, 136–7, 147 Acilius, C.: 22, 54 n. 63, 56 Acrotatus: 23 n. 6 Aelius, C.: 141 n. 7 Aelius Tubero, Q.: 54 n. 63, 56, 56 n. 72 Aemilius (cos. 303): 92 Aemilius, L.: 76 Aemilius Barbula, L. (cos. 281 B.C.): 48, 69 n. 3, 102–3, 111, 123, 135–7, 144 Aemilius Papus, Q. (cos. 282 B.C.): 60 n. 1, 110 n. 13, 111 Aeneas: 24, 57, 81, 129 Aequi: 92 n. 22 Africa: 80, 90 Agamemnon: 33 Agathocles: 32 n. 6, 71 Agis: 71, 137 Ainesias: 15, 30 n. 1 Alcidas: 114 Alexander the Great: 31, 31 n. 3, 35, 88, 89 n. 14, 90, 90 n. 15, 149 Alexander the Molossian: 23 n. 6, 70 n. 5, 89, 89 nn. 11 & 14, 90, 90 n. 15– 7, 97, 140 Alexandrians: 95 Alexis I: 17, 129 allusion: 18, 33, 42–4, 61, 81, 95, 97, 105–6, 114, 119, 124, 135, 149–50 anacyclosis: 49, 49 n. 55, 62, 111–2, 130, 139 Anagnini: 92 n. 22 Annalists, Roman: 15, 15 n. 9, 17, 21, 30, 40, 45, 48, 50 n. 59, 51, 54 n. 65, 56, 58, 60–1 n. 3, 65, 71, 72 n. 12, 83–4, 84 n. 2, 85 n. 3, 88, 91, 96, 121, 126, 145 Antinous: 33 Antiochus: 51 Antiochus III: 95, 96 Antisthenes of Rhodes: 14 n. 6, 96 n. 35

Antonius, M.: 148 Appian: 13, 13 n. 2, 15–17, 19, 21, 31 n. 1, 33 n. 10, 35, 54 n. 65, 68, 83, 83 n. 30, 84–6, 87 n. 5, 88, 92–7, 97 n. 37, 98–9, 99 n. 41, 100–1, 101 n. 46, 102–6, 106 n. 3, 107 n. 5, 109–10, 110 n. 14, 112, 112 n. 19, 113–8, 120, 122 n. 1, 123–9, 131–3, 133 n. 7, 134–5, 140, 142–6, 151 Apulians: 79, 90 Archidamus: 23 n. 6, 97 Archytas: 23, 49 n. 55 Aristagoras: 105 Aristarchus: 137 Aristobolus: 19 n. 25 Aristophanes: 41–2, 42 n. 37, 43, 46, 50, 52, 55, 86, 100–1, 126 Aristotle: 26–7, 49, 62–3, 66–7, 149 Arnaeus/Irus: 34 Arretium: 69 n. 2, 109 Arrian: 19 n. 25, 31 n.3 Athenaeus: 27–8, 28 n. 18, 40, 40 n. 30, 41, 46 n. 52 Athenians: 25, 28 n. 18, 81 n. 24, 135 Attalus of Pergamum: 95 Ausculum, battle of: 60–1, 61 n. 4, 112 n. 19, 143 Bacchanalian affair (186 BC): 104 n. 48 Baebius, Q.: 76 Bitomaris: 109 n.12 Boii: 110–1, 130 Bosworth, A.B.: 59 Bruttians: 69, 69 n. 2, 90, 107 n. 5, 108 n. 6, 111, 130 n. 3, 131 n. 4, 141–2, 142 n. 8, 143–4, 146 Byzantion/Byzantines: 27 n. 16, 34, 34 n. 11 Caecilius, L.: 69 Caecilius Metellus Denter, L.: 109–10 Calabria: 79, 142 Calchedon: 27 n. 16, 34 n. 11

Index Callipolis: 41 Calpurnius Piso Frugi, L.: 46, 54 n. 63 Campania: 79 n. 22, 90, 90–1 n. 17 Campanians: 69, 79, 108 n. 6, 125 n. 5, 142–3, 145 Capua/Capuans: 28 n. 20 Carbina: 28 Caria: 95 Carthage/Carthaginians: 75–6, 87, 92–4, 96, 115, 142, 151 Cassius Dio: 13, 15–6, 19, 21, 68, 105–7, 109, 109 n. 12, 110–2, 112 n. 19, 113–4, 114 n. 22, 115, 115 n. 23, 116–21, 121 n. 28, 122, 125, 125 n. 6, 126–7, 129, 129 n. 1, 130–7, 140, 142 n. 9, 143, 145, 151 Cassius Hemina, L.: 22 n. 2, 57 n. 73 Cincius Alimentus, L.: 21, 46, 54 n. 63 Cineas: 22 n. 3, 60 n. 1 Cius: 95 Claudius Caecus, Ap.: 24–5, 36 n. 15, 60 n. 1, 71 n. 6, 77, 101 n. 46 Clearchus of Soli: 27–8, 28 n. 21, 31, 34, 67, 86, 99, 149 Cleitarchus: 31 n. 3, 56 Cleon: 135 Cleonymus: 23 n. 6, 91–2 n. 21, 92 Coele Syria: 95 Coelius Antipater, L.: 30, 56, 125 n. 8 comedy: 41–4, 51–3, 64, 86–7, 91 n. 20, 99–101, 104 n. 48, 106, 115, 119 Cononeus: 87 n. 5 Constantinople: 123 Corcyra: 91 n. 21 cordax: 118–9 Corinthians: 28 n. 18, 82 n. 28 Cornelius (naval commander): 84, 84 n. 2, 85, 97, 112, 112 n. 19 Cornelius Dolabella, P.: 109–10 Cornelius Rufinus: 108 n. 6, 111 n. 16 Croton: 90, 130 n. 3, 142–6 Cumae/Cumaeans: 90, 93 n. 25 Curius Dentatus, M’.: 24–5, 60 n. 1, 110 Curtius Rufus, Q.: 31 nn. 3–4 Cyclades: 95 Cyprus: 95–6 Cyrene: 95–6 Cyrus: 105

159

Decius Iubellius: 69, 142–3, 145–6, 146 n. 15 Decius Mus, P.: 110 n. 15, 112 n. 19 Demetrius Poliorcetes: 89 n. 14 Democrates: 72 Demosthenes: 94 n. 29 Diodorus the Grammarian: 40, 40 n. 30, 41, 55 Diodorus Siculus: 31, 31 nn. 3–4, 50, 57, 91, 91 n. 21, 93 n. 27, 145, 149 Diogenes: 42 n. 35, 70 n. 4 Dionysia: 15–6, 26, 39, 113, 126, 151 Dionysius of Halicarnassus: 13, 15, 17, 21, 23 n. 5, 30, 30 n. 1, 31, 31 n. 2, 32, 32 n. 7, 33, 33 n. 8–10, 35, 35 n. 12–3, 36–7, 37 nn. 20 & 22, 38, 38 n. 25, 39–41, 41 n. 33, 42, 42 n. 36, 43, 43 n. 38, 44–6, 46 n. 49, 47–54, 54 n. 63, 54–5 n. 65, 55–7, 57 n. 74, 58, 58 n.n. 75 & 77, 60, 60 n. 3, 61–8, 69 n. 3, 70, 72, 72 n. 12, 73–82, 82 n. 29, 83, 83 n. 30, 84–6, 88, 91 n. 20, 92, 94, 94 n. 30, 95, 97–9, 99 n. 47, 100– 101, 101 n. 46, 102–4, 104 n. 48, 106, 112–3, 115–7, 117 n. 26, 118– 20, 122 n. 1, 123, 126–8, 133, 133 n. 7, 134–5, 139–40, 142–3, 145, 145 n. 14, 146 n. 15, 148–51 Domitius Calvinus Maximus, Cn.: 109 Duris of Samos: 22, 22 n. 3, 28, 43 n. 39, 149 Edetani: 87 Egypt: 95–6 enargeia: 17, 17–8 n. 19, 44, 44 n. 41, 53, 55, 115, 149 Ennius, Q.: 23, 23 n. 7, 24–5, 28, 33, 36, 112, 124, 149 Epic: 18, 23–5, 28, 33–4, 57, 61, 81, 136–7, 149 Epirus: 80 Etruscans: 58, 69, 69 n. 2, 79, 91 n. 18, 92 n. 22, 107, 107 n. 5, 108, 108 n. 8, 109–11, 130–1, 131 n. 4, 146 Eubulus: 27 Euripides: 34, 67, 126, 149 Eurymachus: 33 Eutropius: 13 n. 3, 68, 122, 122 n. 1, 123–4, 124 n. 1, 126, 129

160

Index

exaedificatio, exornatio: 16, 16 n. 15, 17, 58, 60, 78, 116, 120, 122, 148–51 Excerpta Constantiniana: 129 n. 1, 132– 3 exempla: 18, 24–8, 31–5, 39, 45, 53–5, 61–76, 81–2, 85–86, 97, 105–6, 114, 117, 119–21, 127–28, 135–7, 147, 149, 151 Fabius Maximus, Q.: 35, 54 n. 63, 72, 76, 106 n. 3, 115 Fabius Maximus Rullianus, Q.: 110 n. 15 Fabius Pictor, Q.: 21–2, 30, 46, 54 n. 63, 56–7, 69 n. 2 Fabricius Luscinus, C.: 24–5, 60 n. 1, 69 n. 2, 101 n. 46, 108, 108 n. 6, 109– 11, 111 n. 16, 141, 141 n. 7, 142–5, 146 n. 15 Fescennine verses: 117 fetial law/procedure: 14, 37 n. 20, 73, 73 n. 14, 73–74 n. 15, 74, 78, 78 n. 20, 82, 98, 103, 114, 116, 133–5, 139, 148 fetials: see under Romans Florus: 13, 13 n. 3, 68, 78–9, 79 nn. 21– 2, 80–5, 97, 103–4, 107 n. 5, 110 n. 15, 112–3, 120, 123–5, 125 n. 5, 126–8, 131, 131 n. 4, 132, 140, 143, 151 focalization: 17, 18 n. 19, 36, 36 n. 17, 39, 42–4, 44 n. 41, 52–3, 62–3, 80, 85, 126–7, 132, 149 fundamenta: 16, 148, 150 Gauls: 68, 79, 107, 107 n. 5, 108, 108 n. 8, 109–11, 130–1, 131 n. 4, 146 Gellius, A.: 90 Gellius, Cn.: 39 n. 28, 54 n. 63, 56 n. 72 Gorgias: 27 n. 15 Hannibal: 25, 29 n. 22, 35, 72 n. 11, 87– 8, 120 Hecataeus: 19 Hecuba: 34 Heraclea, battle of: 24, 60, 61 n. 4, 71 n. 6, 79 n. 22, 111 n. 16, 112 n. 19, 143 Heracleides: 29 n. 22, 32 n. 6, 42 n. 36 Hernici: 92 n. 22 Herodotus: 18, 25, 25 n. 13, 26, 27 n. 15,

34, 38 n. 25, 81 n. 24, 94, 94 n. 29, 105–6, 119 n. 27, 120, 129, 151 Hieronymus of Cardia: 22–3, 23 n. 4, 28, 30, 43 n. 39, 55, 55 n. 68, 60, 60 n. 2, 67, 126, 149 Hippocrates: 94 n. 30 Hipponion/Vibo Valentia: 142 n. 8 Histiaeus: 105 Hoffmann, W.: 15 Homer: 18, 27 n. 15, 33–4, 38, 67, 81 Horatius Cocles: 54–5 n. 65, 57–8 hyperbaton: 45, 102, 117 Iapygians: 26–8 Illyricum: 80 intertextuality: 18, 18 n. 22–3, 33, 38, 42, 43, 63–6, 66 n. 11, 97, 105–6, 114, 119, 135, 149 intratextuality: 32, 32 n. 5, 64, 149 inventio: 15–6, 16 nn. 13–4, 17, 19, 21, 30–1, 33 n. 8, 35, 38, 39 n. 28, 43, 47, 53, 56–9, 63 n. 8, 66–7, 72 n. 12, 73, 78–8, 83, 85, 88, 91, 93, 95–9, 101–4, 108 n. 8, 109 n. 12, 112 n. 19, 113, 118–21, 123–8, 133–4, 139–40, 144–6, 148–53 Ionia: 95–6 Isocrates: 27 n. 15, 94 n. 29 Istria: 80 Italietes: 51 Italiote League: 27 n. 17, 79, 89, 108, 130 n. 3, 140–1, 146 Iunius Bubulcus: 92 Josephus: 99 n. 41 Jovian: 122 ‘just’ war: 14, 14 n. 8, 73–4, 103, 135, 138–47 Justin: 71, 71 n. 8, 90, 93 n. 25, 95, 97, 145 Kotylê (Philonides): 39–41, 43, 45 n. 46 Kleemporos: 87 n. 5 Lacinian promontory: 88–9, 93, 93 nn. 27–8, 94, 96, 140, 144 Lais: 46, 46 n. 52, 47 Latins: 91 n. 18 Latinus: 81, 81 n. 25

Index Laurentia: 32–3, 33 n. 8, 57, 57 n. 74, 58 Licinius, C.: 76 Licinius Macer: 33 n. 8, 54 n. 63, 56, 56 nn. 71–2 Livius Andronicus: 43 Livius, M.: 76 Livy: 15, 18, 33 n. 8, 48 n. 53, 54, 54 nn. 63 & 65, 57–8, 58 n. 77, 66 n. 11, 67, 67 n. 12, 68, 70, 70 n. 5, 71, 71–2 n. 10, 72 nn. 11–2, 73–4, 74 n. 16, 75–9, 79 n. 21, 80–3, 85–8, 88 n. 7, 89–90, 90 n. 16, 91, 91 n. 20, 92, 92 n. 27, 95, 97–8, 104, 104 n. 48, 109– 10, 121–2, 122 n. 1, 123–4, 127–8, 133, 140–1, 141 n. 7, 142, 144, 145 n. 12, 146 n. 15, 149 Locri: 85 n. 3, 130 n. 3, 142–4, 146, 149 Lucanians: 69, 69 n. 2, 79, 89–91, 91 n. 18 & 21, 107 n. 5, 108 n. 6, 111, 130 n. 3, 131 n. 4, 141, 141 n. 7, 142–4, 146 Luceria: 91, 91 n. 19 Lucian: 81 Lycophron: 24, 24 n. 8, 28, 124, 149 Lysias: 27 n. 15, 44 n. 41, 46 n. 52, 55 Mallios, L.: 47 Marcius Philippus, Q. (cos. 281): 111, 123 Marsi: 92 n. 22 Massalia/Massaliotes: 37 n. 18, 93, 93 n. 25 Mastarna: 57 n. 74 Megillus: 26, 26 n. 14, 39, 45, 47, 55, 113, 149 Melanthius: 34 Messapians: 28 n. 18, 79, 90, 130 n. 3 Metapontum/Metapontines: 89, 91 n. 21 Meton (Athenian) : 50, 50 n. 57 & 59, 119 Meton (Tarentine): 14, 14 n. 7, 15, 21, 30, 48–53, 55–6, 58, 60, 62–3, 63 n. 8, 64–7, 71–2, 79–80, 86–7, 99, 102– 4, 116, 118–20, 134, 137, 149–51 Milêtos/Milesians: 95, 105–6, 151 Morgetes: 51 Naevius: 24 n. 8 Nais: 46 n. 52

161

Neapolis/Neapolitans: 37 n. 18, 71–2 n. 10, 89–90, 140 Nicon: 29 n. 22, 72, 72 n. 11 Oinotros/Oinotrians: 51 Orosius: 13 n. 3, 68, 124–5, 125 n. 5, 126–9, 131–2, 140, 143 Pallanteum: 81 Pallas: 81–2, 151 Pandosia: 90 Patavia: 92 Peisthetaerus: 43 Pergamum: 95 Periochae: 13 n. 3, 68, 70, 70 n. 5, 71, 79 n. 21, 82–3, 98 n. 38, 104, 107 n. 5, 108 n. 7, 111, 123–4, 127–8, 131 n. 4, 140, 141 n. 7, 144 Persepolis: 31, 34 Persians: 25, 31 n. 3, 105–6 Peucetians/Poediculi: 89 Pherecydes of Athens: 51 Phileas: 72 Philemenus: 28–9 n. 22, 72, 87 n. 5 Philip V: 29 n. 22, 32 n. 6, 95, 95 n. 33, 96 Philocharis: 13–6, 21, 85–7, 87 n. 5, 88, 88 n. 7, 93–4, 96, 104, 106, 113, 120, 140, 144, 151 Philonides/Philonidas: 13–5, 21, 30, 39– 43, 45, 45 n. 46, 47, 49–50, 53, 55–6, 58, 64–66, 71–2, 74–5, 78, 80, 82, 86–7, 98–9, 99 n. 40, 100–101, 104, 116, 119–20, 149–50 phlyax plays: 44, 44 n. 42, 52, 55, 99, 101, 103–4, 117, 149 phlyax vases: 100, 126 n. 10 Phocaeans: 93 n. 25 Phoenicia/Phoenicians: 95, 105 Phrynichus: 105 Phylarchus: 22 n. 3, 28, 43 n. 39, 67 Plato: 26, 27 n. 15, 39, 47, 52, 55, 55 n. 66, 86, 94 n. 29, 113, 120, 127, 143, 148–9, 151 Pliny: 141 n. 7 Plutarch: 13, 15, 17, 22, 23 n. 4, 23, 24 n. 8, 31 n. 1 & 3–4, 33 n. 8, 50, 54 n. 65, 57 n. 74, 60, 60 n. 2, 61–2, 63 n. 8, 64–7, 67 n. 12, 69, 70, 71 n. 6, 72–

162

Index

3, 78, 83, 86, 97, 99 n. 41, 101 n. 46, 103–4, 107 n. 5, 112, 116, 118–20, 122 n. 1, 126–7, 129–30, 130 n. 3, 134, 136–7, 151 Polybius: 13 n. 3, 14 n. 6, 17, 21–25, 25 n. 12, 26–7, 27 n. 15, 28, 28 n. 20, 28–9 n. 22, 29–31, 32 n. 6, 33–5, 37– 8,38 nnn. 25–6, 40, 41, 42 n. 36, 43 n. 39, 47, 49, 55 nn. 65 & 68, 58, 61, 66, 66 n. 11, 67, 67 n. 12, 69 n. 2, 70, 73, 80, 82, 87 n. 5, 92–5, 95 n. 33, 96–8, 103, 106, 109–10, 110 n. 14, 120, 123–4, 124 n. 1, 131, 136, 140, 142, 146, 148–9 Polyxena: 34 Pompeius, Sextus: 93–4 Pompeius Trogus: 71, 71 n. 8, 90, 95, 145 Porcius Cato, M.: 22, 22 n. 2, 37, 37 n. 23, 39 n. 28, 51, 54 n. 63, 56, 57 n. 73, 67 n. 12 Poseidonia: 89–90 Postumius Albinus, A.: 22, 37, 37 nn. 22–3, 38, 38 nn. 25–6, 54 n. 65, 78, 149 Postumius Megellus, L.: 13, 35, 35 n. 14, 35–6 n. 15, 36–7, 38–9, 39 n. 28, 42– 5, 47–8, 52, 55, 64, 66, 72–3, 76, 78, 78 n. 20, 80, 82, 98–103, 113, 115–9, 130, 133 n. 7, 134–5, 146–7, 149, 151 Proxenus: 22, 149 Ptolemy: 19 n. 25, 87 Ptolemy IV Philopator: 95 Ptolemy V Epiphanes: 95 Punic Wars: First: 21 n. 1, 22, 22 n. 2, 24 n. 8, 55, 56 n. 72, 79, 92, 95–6; Second: 21, 22 n. 2, 25, 29 n. 22, 56 n. 72, 71, 75–6, 79, 87, 87 n. 5, 106 n. 3, 120, 151 puns: 45–7, 50–2, 65, 77, 86–7, 94, 145 n. 14, 149–51 Pyrrhus: 14, 21, 21. n. 1, 22, 22 n. 3, 23, 23 n. 5–6, 24, 28, 28 n. 20, 36, 48–9, 52, 55, 55 n. 66, 58, 60 n. 1, 60–1, 61 nn. 3–5, 62–3, 65, 65 n. 9, 68–9, 71, 71 n. 6, 72, 74 n. 75, 77, 79, 103, 108 n. 6, 111 n. 16, 112, 118, 120, 124, 128, 130, 130 n. 3, 131, 136–41,

142–5, 148–9 Quellenforschung: 16, 125 Remus: 32, 57, 57 n. 73, 58 Rhegion/Rhegines: 69, 85 n. 3, 108 n. 6, 130 n. 3, 142, 142 n. 9, 143–6, 146 n. 15 Rhinthon: 44, 44 n. 42, 52, 55, 113 n. 20, 126, 149 Rhodes/Rhodians: 37 n. 18, 82 n. 28, 87, 93 n. 25, 95–7 Rome: 13–4, 33, 48, 53, 54 n. 65, 57, 60, 71 n. 10, 73, 77, 82 n. 29, 83, 86, 90 n. 17, 91, 93, 95–6, 102, 106, 118, 123, 131, 146 site of debate about war with Tarentines: 48, 102, 135 temple of Bellona: 74 n. 15, 114 n. 22 tomb of Tarpeia: 46 Romans: passim ambassador(s)/legate(s): 13,13 n. 1, 21, 35–9, 41, 43–4, 47, 52, 68–9, 70– 1, 72 n. 10, 72–4, 74 n. 16, 75–6, 78, 82 n. 29, 98, 101–2, 109, 114–8, 123, 125 n. 5, 126–9, 131, 133–5, 138–41, 145–6, 148, 151 diplomatic relations: 37, 37 n. 18, 76, 88–93, 93 n. 25, 94–7, 106, 140 fetials: see ambassador(s)/legate(s) garrison(s): 13, 29 n. 22, 72, 85 n. 3, 98, 106 n. 3, 130 n. 3, 133, 140–2, 142 nn. 8–9, 143–6, 146 n. 15 innocence: 85, 85 n. 3, 113–4, 131, 140, 144, 146 navy: 13, 13 n. 2, 15, 35, 70, 80, 84, 84 n. 2, 85, 88, 93–5, 97, 112–4, 125–8, 131–2, 140, 143–4 prisoners: 24, 98, 109, 111 n. 16, 114, 127, 132–3, 138 speaking Greek: 13 n. 4, 36 n. 16, 36–7, 37 n. 19, 38, 43–5, 47, 73, 78, 98, 115, 149 Romulus: 32, 33 n. 8, 57, 57 n. 73, 58, 122 Rudiae: 23 Sabines: 39–40 n. 28, 46, 89

Index Sabus: 39 n. 28 Saguntum/Saguntines: 87, 87 n. 6 Sallentini: 92 Sallust: 145 n. 12 Samians/Samos: 95, 114 Samnites: 28 n. 18, 39 n. 28, 69, 69 n. 2, 79, 82 n. 29, 89, 90–1 n. 17, 91, 91 nn. 17–8, 92 n. 22, 102, 107 n. 5, 111, 130, 130 n. 3, 131, 131 n. 4, 135, 141, 146 Sancus: 40 n. 28 satyrs: 51, 51 n. 62 Saturnia: 51–2 Scaevola: 19 n. 26 Sempronius Asellio: 56 n. 70, 138 Sempronius Tuditanus, C.: 51, 54 n. 63, 56 Senones: 68, 69 n. 2, 107 n. 5, 109–10, 110 n. 14, 130, 141, 141 n. 7 Sentinum: 110, 110 n. 15, 131 Sicels: 51 Sicyonians: 40 Sicily: 22 n. 3, 25 n. 13, 80, 90, 91 n. 21 Sidicini: 142–3, 145 Sinon: 81, 127 Sisenna: 56 Sophocles: 117, 121 Spain: 87–88 Sparta/Spartans: 25, 36, 39–40 n. 28, 41, 47, 60 n. 1, 65, 82, 82 n. 28, 97, 135– 6 Sphactêria: 135 Statius Statilius: 142 n. 7 stereotypes: 15, 17, 25–9, 33–4, 36, 39– 40, 42 n. 36, 45, 47–9, 53, 55, 58, 62, 65, 75–7, 86, 95, 99, 103, 112–3, 116, 118, 121, 127–8, 143, 149, 151 Sthennius Stallius: 141–2 n. 7 Strabo: 39 n. 28, 55 n. 66, 62, 67, 77, 80, 86–7, 89 n. 14, 93, 116–7, 121, 127, 143 suiturs: 33–4, 48, 149 Susa: 105 Syracuse/Syracusans: 32 n. 6, 37 n. 18, 60 n. 1, 93 n. 25 Tacitus: 18, 145 n. 12 Taras: 13–5, 21, 23, 25 n. 13, 26–8, 29 n. 22, 34, 37, 39, 44–6, 48–51, 55 n. 66,

163

62–4, 73, 74 n. 15, 79–83, 85, 85 n. 3, 89, 92, 97–9, 113, 118, 123, 126– 7, 130, 130 nn. 2–3, 137–8, 140–1, 143, 149; harbor(s): 13, 80, 97, 113–4, 127, 132; theatre: 13, 14 n. 7, 15, 19, 36, 39, 44, 48, 52–3, 63–4, 72 n. 12, 74–5, 80, 80 n. 23, 85, 98–9, 102–3, 113, 115– 8, 121, 124, 126–8, 132, 134, 143 Tarentum: 25, 35, 72, 73, 123, 128, 130 n. 2 Tarentines: passim arrogance: 25, 27–8, 33–4, 43–4, 61, 71, 95, 106–7, 111–2, 116, 118, 131, 136, 139 democracy: 13–4, 26–8, 34–5, 48–9, 52, 61–6, 86, 97–8, 103, 118–20, 136, 144, 149 diplomacy with Rome: 37 n. 18, 88– 93, 140 drinking/drunkenness: 15, 19, 26–8, 29 n. 22, 33, 38–40, 52–3, 56, 62–3, 65–6, 77, 99, 103, 113, 119–21, 132, 140–1, 149 festivals: 13, 15, 26–7, 39, 62, 80, 113, 116, 118 lack of wisdom: 36, 38, 49, 53, 65, 112, 114, 116–7, 120–1 laughter/mockery: 36, 38, 43–5, 47, 52, 64, 80–1, 98–9, 101–4, 115–8, 120, 126, 134 levitas: 38, 38 n. 26, 72, 119, 139 licentiousness: 21, 31, 33–5, 41, 47, 61, 70–1, 73, 82, 85, 112, 116, 123, 139, 146 luxury (tryphê): 26–8, 33, 38, 49, 52, 60, 62, 65, 86, 121, 139, 141, 149 naval battle with Romans: 13, 21, 35, 43 n. 8, 60, 69–71, 71 n. 7, 72–3, 78–80, 84–5, 88, 97, 109, 109 n. 9, 111–114, 123–4, 126–7, 130–2, 138– 41, 143–6, 148 prosperity (eudaimonia): 21, 25, 27– 8, 33, 49, 62, 77, 106, 111–2, 130, 139 summoning Pyrrhus: 21, 28, 48–9, 61–2, 71, 103, 118–20, 124, 128, 136, 148–9

Index writing history: 14 n. 6, 15 n. 9, 96 n. 35 Tarpeia: 46, 46 n. 49 Tarquinius Priscus: 93 n. 25 Tarquinius Superbus: 93 n. 25 Terentius Varro, M.: 54 n. 63 Thais (hetaera): 31, 31 nn. 3–4, 33–4, 88, 149 Thais (Tarentine): 31–5, 40, 47, 49, 71–2, 85–6, 88, 88 n. 7, 92, 96, 98, 100, 149, 151 Thasos: 41, 95 Theophrastus: 42, 55, 116, 119–20, 149 Theopompus: 23 n. 5, 26–7, 27 nn. 15–6, 28, 28 n. 18, 31, 33–4, 39, 52, 62, 67, 86, 127, 143, 149 Thersites: 34 Thucydides: 18, 25, 25 n. 13, 27 n. 15, 28 n. 18, 35 n. 12, 38, 38 n. 25, 41 n. 33, 56, 81–2 n. 26, 82 n. 28, 88 n. 8, 94, 114, 120, 135, 149 Thurias: 92 Thurii: 13, 69 n. 2, 85 n. 3, 92, 92 n. 22, 97–8, 98 n. 38, 108 n. 6, 130 n. 3, 133, 138, 140–1, 141 n. 7, 142–6 Tiber: 81 Timaeus: 15, 22, 22 n. 3, 28, 30, 43 n. 39, 55, 55 n. 68, 60 n. 2, 62 n. 7, 71, 149 toga: 13, 15, 41, 44, 76, 99–103, 115, 115 n. 23, 117, 133 n. 7, 134 topos/topoi: 18–9 n. 23, 25, 28 n. 27, 32 n. 6, 34, 36, 40–2, 42 n. 36, 55, 62, 77, 134 treaties: 88–9, 92–3, 96–7, 140 between Philip V and Antiochus III: 95–6

Tragiscus: 29 n. 22, 72 n. 11 Trojans: 81 Tullius Cicero, M.: 16, 16 n. 12,18, 26 n. 14, 30, 56, 56 n. 70, 97, 112 n. 19, 148 Tullius, Servius: 57 n. 74 Turbeletes: 87, 94 Turdetani: 87, 87 n. 6 Turnus: 45–6 Turduli: 87–8 Umbrians: 107–8, 110, 110 n- 15, 130 Vadimon, Lake: 110 n. 13 Valerius, L. (duumvir 282?): 112, 112 n. 19, 113–4, 132, 132 n. 6 Valerius Antias: 54 n. 63, 54–5 n. 65, 56, 56 nn. 71–2, 67 n. 12, 112 n. 19 Valerius Maximus: 13 n. 3, 68, 72, 72 n. 12, 73–80, 82–3, 86, 98, 100, 103–4, 123–4, 126–8, 141–2 n. 7, 151 Vennonius: 54 n. 63 Vergil: 18, 57, 81, 127, 151 word play: 17, 45, 50 n. 60, 51, 75, 77, 93–4, 134, 145 n. 14 Xenophon: 27 n. 17, 94, 94 n. 29, 149 Zeno of Rhodes: 14 n. 6, 96 n. 35 Zonaras: 13 n. 3, 17, 71, 129, 129 n. 1, 130–1, 131 n. 4, 132–3, 133 n. 7, 134–7, 140, 143, 145

INDEX OF SOURCES Abbreviations follow those of LSJ and the OLD. Aeschylus. fr. 195: 66 Appian. B. C. 1.3.25: 31 n. 1, 1.9.79: 94 n. 30; 1.10.86: 94 n. 30; 4.15: 109; 5.133: 93 Hann. 7.6.32: 87 n. 5: 7.6.33: 106 n. 3 15: 94 n. 30 Ib. 10: 87; 17: 94 n. 30; 20: 94 n. 30 Mac. 4: 95 Reg. fr. 10: 54 n. 65 Sam. 3.6: 109; 3.6.1: 109 n. 12; 3.6.2: 107 n. 5; 3.6.3–4: 110 n. 14; 3.7.1.: 13 n. 2, 84–5, 88, 92–4, 97– 98, 118, 130 n. 3, 142; 3.7.2: 30 n. 1, 98–102, 134; 3.7.3: 102–3, 135; 3.9.2–3: 108 n. 6, 145; 3.10.2: 101 n. 46; 3.10.4: 101 n. 46 Apuleius. Apol. 18: 108 n. 6 Aristophanes. Av. 992–1020: 50 Lys. 975: 66 Pl. 179: 46, 303: 46 Aristotle. HA 592b: 43 Po. 1452b: 63 Pol. 1303a: 26; 1304b22: 34, 62; 1320b: 26 Arrian. 3.19: 31 n. 3 Athenaeus. 11.478b–c: 40–1; 11.479d: 41; 12.518a-b: 28 n. 18; 12.522d-f: 27, 99 n. 39; 12.526e–f: 27 n. 16; 13.576d–e: 31 n. 3; 13.592c–d: 46 n. 52 Cassius Dio. 1.1: 121 n. 28; 9.39.1: 84 n. 1, 9.39.1–2: 105–7; 9.39.3: 84 n. 1, 105, 111–2; 9.39.4: 112; 9.39.5: 84 n. 1, 105, 112–4, 132; 9.39.6: 114–5, 133; 9.39.7: 115–6; 9.39.8: 116;

9.39.9: 118; 9.39.10: 84 n. 1, 118– 20; 9.40.7: 142 n. 9; 9.40.29–38: 108 n. 6; 10.43: 112 n. 19; 45.34.5: 109; 46.7.1: 109; 56.6.6: 109; 72.4.6; 109; 72.33.3: 114 n. 22; fr. 36.33: 111 n. 16; fr. 40.1: 111 n. 16 Cato. (Peter) fr. 16: 33 n. 8 Cicero. Brut. 55: 24, 108 n. 6 Fin. 2.61: 112 n. 19 de Orat. 2.35: 19 n. 26; 2.52: 22; 2.52–3: 138; 2.54: 30, 56; 2.62–3: 16, 148; 2.115: 97; 2.268: 108 n. 6 Leg. 1.15: 26 n. 14; 1.6: 30, 56; 1.7: 56 Off. 1.40: 108 n. 6; 3.86: 108 n. 6 Parad. 12–13: 108 n. 6; 48: 108 n. 6 Q. fr. 2.16.4: 16 n. 15 Sen. 15–16: 24; 43: 108 n. 6 Sest. 17: 77 n. 19 Tusc. 1.89: 112 n. 19; 3.56: 108 n. 6 Columella. 1 pr. 14: 108 n. 6 Curtius Rufus. 5.7: 31 n. 4 Diodorus Siculus. 7.4–5: 57; 8.17.1: 93 n. 27; 12.36: 50; 13.3.4: 25 n. 13; 14.93: 37 n. 15; 16.69.1: 92; 17.72: 31, 17.72.6 31 n. 4; 20.104.5: 91; 22.1.2–3: 142, 145; 23.2.1: 95; 28.9: 32 n. 6 Dionysius of Halicarnassus. 1.5: 32 n. 7; 1.8.3: 33 n. 9; 1.10.1–2: 50; 1.11: 51; 1.12.3: 51; 1.13.1: 51; 1.18.2: 51; 1.19.3: 47; 1.36–38.1: 51; 1.50.2: 94 n. 29; 1.56.5: 57; 1.64: 45; 1.79.9: 30 n. 1; 1.84.4: 32; 1.86.3: 57; 1.87.4: 32–3, 57; 1.90.1: 47; 2.31: 54 n. 63; 2.38–40: 46; 2.40.3: 46; 2.49.2–5: 39

166

Index of Sources

n. 28; 2.72.6–7: 74 n. 15; 2.72.8: 73 n. 14; 3.67: 34 n. 63; 4.9.8: 33 n. 10; 4.15.1: 54 n. 63; 4.38.4: 33 n. 10; 5.8.3: 33 n. 10; 5.24.3: 54 n. 65, 57; 5.26.3: 93 n. 25; 7.1.4–6: 93 n. 25; 7.72.11: 117 8.70.5: 33 n. 10; 8.73.4: 33 n. 10; 9.37.2: 30 n. 1; 10.37.4: 33 n. 10; 10.39.3: 33 n. 10; 11.28.6: 33 n. 10; 15.1.1: 30 n. 1; 15.10.1: 82 n. 29; 17–18.4–5: 35; 19.1.2–4: 41, 47; 19.3: 41; 19.4: 43 n. 38; 19.4.2: 31– 4, 85, 100; 19.5: 35–9, 41–5, 47, 62, 66, 74, 82, 84 n. 1, 98, 99 n. 40, 100– 2, 113, 116–8; 19.6: 48, 102, 111, 134–5; 19.6.2: 69 n. 3, 107 n. 5; 19.7: 35 n. 13; 19.8: 48–9, 52–3, 66, 99, 119–20; 19.12: 60 n. 1; 19.13: 108 n. 6; 19.13–18.8: 108 n. 6; 9.15– 19.8: 101 n. 46; 20.1: 143; 20.3–4: 101 n. 46; 20.4: 108 n. 6, 130 n. 3, 142–3; 20.5.4–5: 108 n. 6, 145, 146 n. 15; 20.13: 108 n. 6 Amm. 2.10–11: 41 n. 33 Comp. 3: 47 Is. 9: 47 Lys. 7–8: 55; 8: 97 Pomp. 3: 38 n. 25 Th. 36, 41: 47 Ennius. (Skutsch) l. 167: 23; ll. 183–90: 23–4; l. 197: 23; l. 198: 24 Euripides. Hec. 607: 34 Eutropius. 2.11: 122–4 Florus. Epit. 1.12: 79, 107 n. 5, 110 n. 15; 1.13.3–5: 79–83, 127; 1.13.7: 60 n. 1; 1.13.27–8: 106, 147 Frontinus. Str. 4.3.2: 108 n. 6; 4.4.2: 108 n. 6 A. Gellius. 1.14: 108 n. 6; 3.8: 108 n. 6; 4.8: 108 n. 6; 5.18.8–9: 56, 138, 138 n. 1; 11.8: 37; 17.21: 108 n. 6; 17.21.33: 90 Herodotus. 1.143: 105; 2.11.1: 94 n. 29; 3.136–8: 25 n. 13; 3.81: 34; 4.136:

66; 5.105: 81 n. 24; 5.13.2: 94 n. 29; 6.18–21: 105; 6.129: 119 n. 27; 7.170: 26, 8.128: 120; 9.18: 66 Hesiod. Theog. 1011–6: 81 n. 25 Hippocrates. Ep. 4.38: 94 n. 30 Homer. Il. 1.158: 33; 1.149–60: 147; 5.66–8: 54 n. 65; 6.123–43: 81 n. 24; 13.651–5: 54 n. 65 Od. 1.254: 33; 3.69–74: 81 n. 24 Justin. 12.2.12: 89–90, 140; 17.3.22– 18.1: 71; 18.1.9: 130 n. 3, 142, 145; 22.1.2–5: 71; 30.2.8: 95; 43.3.4: 93 n. 25 Juvenal. 9.142: 108 n. 6 Licinius Macer. (Peter) fr. 1: 33 n. 8 Livy. praef. 6: 57; 1.1.5–11: 81; 1.1.8: 81; 1.4.7: 33 n. 8; 1.24.6: 74 n. 16; 1.37.6: 89; 2.10.11: 54–5 n. 65, 58; 3.25.6–8: 74 n. 16; 7.12.7: 89; 7.27.2: 92; 7.38.2: 92; 8.3.6–7: 70 n. 5; 8.17.9: 70 n. 5, 90, 140; 8.17.10: 89; 8.24.4: 70 n. 5; 8.24.4–18: 90; 8.24.18: 90 n. 16; 8.25–6: 71 n. 10; 8.39–12.4: 71 n. 10; 9.1.2: 71 n. 10; 9.3: 71 n. 10; 9.5.1: 71 n. 10; 9. 10. 11: 74 n. 16; 9.10.8–12.3: 71 n. 10; 9.14: 91; 9.15: 71 n. 10; 9.30.4: 95; 9.34.6: 92; 9. 43.6: 92; 10.2: 91–2; 10.21: 110; 10.27: 110; 10.31.13: 110; 21.6.1–2: 87; 21.12.5: 87; 21.18.1–14: 75–6, 115; 24.13: 72; 25.7–11: 72, 87 n. 5; 26.39: 71 n. 7, 72; 27.16: 72; 28.28.2: 142; 28.39.8: 87; 28.39.11: 87; 31.2.1–2: 95; 31.14.5: 95; 31.31.6–7: 142, 146 n. 15; 36.42.2: 93 n. 28; 39.43.1: 67 n. 12; 45.23.14–6: 82 n. 28 Per. 11: 69 n. 2, 71 n. 10, 98 n. 38, 140, 141 n. 7; 12: 68–70, 107 n. 5, 109, 111, 123, 127–8, 131 n. 4, 141, 141 n. 7, 142, 144; 13: 68, 108 n. 6, 111; 14: 68, 108 n. 6

Index of Sources Lucan. 3.160: 108 n. 6; 10.152: 108 n. 6 Lucian. Hist. Conscr. 8: 81; 58: 101 n. 46 Martial. 11.5.8: 108 n. 6 Mela. 2.68: 93 n. 28 Orosius. 4.1.1–2: 124–8; 4.1.5: 128 n. 12 Pausanias. 1.11.7: 108–9 n. 9; 1.12.1: 25 n. 11 Plato. Lg. 1.637b: 26 Ep. 7 326b-d: 26 n. 14 Hp. Ma. 285D: 55 n. 66 R. 336b: 66 Pliny. Nat. 3.43,97–7, 99: 93 n. 28; 18.18: 24; 33.153: 108 n. 6; 34.32: 141 n. 7, 142 Plutarch. Alc. 17.4–5: 50 Alex. 38: 31 nn. 3–4 Cat. Ma. 2: 24 Marius 45.8: 46 n. 51 Nic. 13.5: 50 Publ. 16.4–7: 57 n. 74; 16.6–7: 54 n. 65; Pyrrh. 1: 24 n. 8; 6.1: 60 n. 1; 13.1: 61; 13.2: 61–3, 107 n. 5, 112, 130, 136–7; 13.3: 30 n. 1, 119; 13.3– 5: 62–6; 13.12: 66; 14: 60 n. 1; 15: 60 n. 1; 16.2: 62, 112; 16.3: 60 n. 1; 16.5: 65 n. 9; 16.8: 60 n. 1; 16.10: 60 n. 1; 17.1–2: 60 n. 1; 17.4: 60; 17.5: 61 n. 4; 18: 60 n. 1; 18.5–6: 36 n. 15; 19.1–3: 101 n. 46; 19.3: 71 n. 6; 19.5: 60 n. 1; 20–1: 60 n. 1, 61 n. 4, 101 n. 46, 108 n. 6; 21.9: 60–1; 22: 130 n. 3; 22.3: 60; 23.4: 60 n. 1; 23.5: 130 n. 3; 25: 60 n. 1, 61 n. 4, 130 n. 3; 28.1 60 n. 1; 28.2–4: 60 n. 1; 29.6: 60 n. 1; 30: 60 n. 1; 34: 60 n. 1 Rom. 9.5: 33 n. 8; 9.4–10.1: 57 n. 74; Sol. 8.1–2: 50 n. 59; Thes. 13.2: 31 n. 1 Polybius. 1.6.4: 131; 1.6.5: 21, 34, 41,

167

47, 61, 73, 136, 139, 148; 1.7.6–7: 142; 1.20.12: 95; 2.19.8: 109; 2.19.9: 109; 2.19.10–13: 110 n. 14; 2.20.1– 3: 110; 2.56: 56 n. 69; 3.2.8: 95, 95 n. 33; 3.15.8: 87; 3.22.5: 92–4; 3.24.3: 93; 3.33.18: 93, 115; 3.56.5: 93; 6.55.1–4: 55 n. 65; 8.24: 21, 25, 27–8, 29 n.22, 49, 61–2, 84 n. 1, 87 n. 5, 112, 139; 8.25.6: 29 n. 22; 8.27: 29 n. 22, 72 n. 11; 10.1: 80; 12.15.2: 32 n. 6; 12.25i.3–5: 55 n. 68; 13.4.4: 42 n. 36; 13.4.5: 32 n. 6; 13.4.4–7: 29 n. 22; 15.1.11: 93; 16.19.6: 14 n. 6; 16.17.8: 14 n. 6; 30.5.6: 93 n. 25; 34.11.9–10: 93; 39.1.4–9: 37–8, 38 n. 25; 39.10–12: 38 n. 26 Ptolemy. 2.4.9: 87 Quintilian. Inst. 7.2.38: 108 n. 6; 10.1.101: 101 n. 46 Seneca. Con. 2.1.8: 108 n. 6 Seneca. Dial. 1.3.4: 108 n. 6 Ep. 98.13: 108 n. 6; 120.6: 108 n. 6; 120.19: 108 n. 6 Servius A. 8.638: 39 n. 28 Sophocles. OT 1490–1: 117 Strabo. 3.1.6: 87, 3.2.15: 87; 5.3.5: 89 n. 14; 5.4: 39 n. 28; 6.1.5: 90, 142 n. 8; 6.1.11: 93; 6.3.1–4: 55 n. 66, 62, 80, 89, 90, 95, 112; 6.3.5: 93 Theophrastus. Char. 6.3: 42, 119; 11.2: 42 Theopompus. (FGrH 115) F 62: 34; F 100: 27; F 233: 26 Thucydides. 1.5.2: 81–2 n. 26; 1.20.1: 88 n. 8; 1.23.4: 88 n. 8; 1.69.4: 82 n. 28; 1.70: 28 n. 18; 1.84: 82 n. 28, 97; 2.38: 28 n. 18; 3.32: 114; 4.21.3: 135; 4.22.1–3: 135; 6.34.4–6: 25 n. 13; 6.44.2: 25 n. 13; 6.104.2: 25 n. 13; 7.79: 120; 8.91.2: 25 n. 13

168

Index of Sources

Valerius Antias. (Peter) fr. 1: 33 n. 8 Valerius Maximus. 1.8.6: 108 n. 6; 2.2.5: 72–7, 82, 100, 123, 128; 2.9.4: 108 n. 6; 3.2.1: 58; 4.3.5a: 24 Vergil. A. 2.69–72: 81, 127; 6.844: 108 n. 6; 8.81–5: 57; 8.112: 81

Xenophon. An. 2.6.10: 34; 3.2.22: 94 n. 29; 4.1.3: 94 n. 29, 4.3.29: 94 n. 29 Zonaras. 8.2: 71, 129–31, 131 n. 4, 132– 7; 8.6: 130 n. 3, 142, 145; 9.31: 129

GREEK INDEX ÊA j berrigi`ne": 51–2 Ê jAborigi`ne": 50–1 ajganaktevw: 45, 102, 133, 133 n. 7 ai[sciston: 42, 100 aijscw`": 33 n. 10, 85 ajkaqarsiva: 42, 74 ajkovlasto": 31, 34–5, 85 ajnaidhv": 30 n. 1, 31, 33, 33 n. 10 ajnasuvrw: 41–2, 100, 119 ajnatavsei": 37, 37 n. 20, 98 ajpovnoia: 42, 42 n. 36, 119 ajpopluvnw: 102, 117 ajsevlgeia, ajselgh;", ajselgw`": 21, 34–5, 41, 47, 66, 70–1, 73, 82, 85, 116, 123 bdeluriva: 42, 119 gela`te: 44, 52, 117 gevlw": 38, 42, 44, 52, 101–2, 115 geloi`o": 99, 101 dialevktou carakth`ra: 38, 38 n. 25 dhmosieuqeivsh", dhmosieusuvsh/: 32–3 ejgevlwn: 38, 64, 98 ejqea`to: 85 ejkbavllw: 39, 66, 116 ejkdivwmi: 66, 66 n. 10 ejkplunei`te: 45, 101–2, 117 (ejp-)ejkrovtoun: 64, 119 ejmblevya": 43 ejn skevph/ tou` fobou: 105, 130 ejxwqou`sin: 53, 66 ejpanairevw: 109 ejpevkeina: 92, 94, 98 ejpieikhv": 63–4, 134 ejpi; metrivoi": 135 ejsqh`ta: 44, 47, 101–2, 116, 134 ejtwvqazon: 116, 134 eujdaimoniva: 25, 28, 33, 47, 62 ejcleuvazon: 98 katafravktai: 84, 132 katevdusan: 97, 114, 132 kateskevdase: 100 kathschmovnhsen: 100, 116

khlidovw: 116, 134 klauvw: 117 kotuvlh, kovtulo": 39–41 (ejpi)kuvya": 100, 116 (peri-)lambavnw: 63–4, 97 Lakiniva" a[kra": 92–3 memolusmevnon: 101–3 mh; plei`n RJ wmaivou": 88, 92–3 mocqeirov": 63–4 oijwnovn: 43 oi[nwtron: 51 oJravw: 62–3, 103, 120 palaiav, palaiw`n: 84, 88, 88 n. 8 paradivdwmi: 65–6, 66 n. 10 parathrou`nte": 36, 36 n. 17, 39, 43, 98– 9, 151 paroxuvna": 84, 97 peivqw: 46, 97 plavnhta": 51 polu;n, pollw`/: 45, 102 prevsbu", presbeiva", prevsbei", presbeuta;": 21, 35, 47, 73, 74 n. 16, 98, 100, 109, 113–4, 133–5 prodivdwmi: 65–6, 66 n. 10 prospivptw: 113 pro;sw: 88, 94, 94 nn. 29–30, 98 proteivnw: 103, 134 spermolovgo": 39, 43, 43 nn. 38–39, 44, 98 stolhv: 99, 115 sullabovnte": 53, 66 scolh;n a[gonta: 61, 137 ti": 30 n. 1, 31, 49, 63, 99, 116 Torbolhvta": 87, 94 Turrhnov": 46 u{brin: 28, 44, 102, 116 (ejx-)ujbrivzw: 44, 47, 71 n. 6, 101, 111, 116, 118 uJperhvfanon: 21, 25, 28 filoskwvmmon: 99

LATIN INDEX aborigines, aberrigines: 50–2 ad res repetendas: 73 bellipotentes: 24 dignitas: 45, 53, 57 direpta: 127 doctus: 30, 56 duumvir(i) navales: 13 n. 2, 70, 80, 112– 4, 123, 125–6, 144 frugalitas: 25 genus stolidum: 23–4 gravitas: 25, 35 n. 12, 45, 65, 72, 103, 149 hostiliter: 126 iniuria(s): 73, 75, 78, 82, 123 insultant: 80, 126 introducti: 74–5 invadere: 126–7 invidia: 77 Lacinium, Lacinia sacra: 93 n. 28, 94 legati, legatio: 73, 75, 82, 91, 123, 128 levitas: 38, 38 n. 26, 72, 119, 139 metuens/metuere: 50, 52

obscenam turpemque dictu contumeliam: 82 officium: 57, 76, 132 pax: 82, 89, 89 n. 13, 90 pietas: 57 praefecti: 125–6, 128 praetereuntem: 126 profligata: 127 rerum repetitio: 73, 73 n. 14, 78, 116, 134 retracta: 127 sapientipotentes: 24, 36 satur: 51 scortum: 32 simplicitas: 25 severitas: 25, 45, 72, 103 Thurias: 93 Thurinis: 69 n. 2, 141 turbulentus: 87 tyrrhenis: 69 n. 2, 141 urina: 74, 100 virtus: 25, 41, 77, 130

The Pyrrhic or Tarentine War, the first contest between the burgeoning Roman Empire and the powers of the Hellenistic world, attracted a great deal of attention in antiquity. Modern scholars have long been wary of accounts relating to how this conflict began; with good reason, because the blame for the initiation of hostilities fall squarely upon the Greeks, a result of the Roman belief in the ‘just’ war.

Three crucial episodes contain a number of suspicious details, all set in the polis of Taras. These serve as the focal point for this case study of inventio in historiogra­ phy which examines the aims and techni­ ques of authors from Polybius to Zonaras. Although our sources offer varying versi­ ons of events and although new details emerge over the course of time, it is im­ portant to see how these prove historical for understanding the construction of Roman history and of its narratives.

www.steiner-verlag.de Franz Steiner Verlag

ISBN 3-515-08689-7

9 7 83 5 1 5 086899