Power Couples in Antiquity: Transversal Perspectives (Routledge Monographs in Classical Studies) [1 ed.] 9781138575264, 9781351272445, 1138575267

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Power Couples in Antiquity

Everyone can name a couple made up of famous, rich, or powerful partners, who cultivate a joint media image which is stronger than either of their individual identities. Since the 1980s they have been known as “power couples”. Yet while the term is recent, the concept is not. More than 2,000 years ago, Greeks and Romans became aware of the media potential of couples and used it as an instrument to reinforce political power. Notable examples are Philip II of Macedonia and Olympias, Cleopatra and Mark Antony, or the Emperor Augustus and his wife Livia. Power Couples in Antiquity brings together the reflections of ten specialists on Greek and Roman power couples from the fourth century B C E to the first century C E . It is focused on the birth and the development of the “ruling couple” in the Hellenistic Greek kingdoms and in Rome between the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Empire. By taking some emblematic cases, this book analyses the redistribution of public and private roles within these couples, examines the sentimental bonds or the relations of domination established between partners, explores how these relationships played out in private, and highlights the many common points between ancient and contemporary power couples. This book offers a fascinating insight into power dynamics in the ancient world, exploring not only the subtleties within these often complex relationships, but also their relationships with their subjects through the cultivation and manipulation of their joint public image. Anne Bielman Sánchez has been Professor of Ancient History at the University of Lausanne, Switzerland, since 2005. Her research focuses on social problematics, especially on female public activities in the Greek Hellenistic world and in the Republican Roman world:  queens, priestesses, female magistrates, and benefactors. Works include Inventer le pouvoir féminin: Cléopâtre I et Cléopâtre II, reines d’Egypte au IIe s. av. J.-​C. (2015, co-​authored with Giuseppina Lenzo) and Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome (2016, co-​edited with Isabelle Cogitore and Anne Kolb). From 2016 to 2019, she is leading a project funded by the Swiss National Fund for Scientific Research (FNS) that explores the phenomena of “couples” in Greco-​Roman antiquity.

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Routledge Monographs in Classical Studies

Titles include: The Greek and Roman Trophy From Battlefield Marker to Icon of Power Lauren Kinnee Rethinking ‘Authority’ in Late Antiquity Authorship, Law, and Transmission in Jewish and Christian Tradition Edited by A. J. Berkovitz and Mark Letteney Thinking the Greeks A Volume in Honour of James M. Redfield Edited by Bruce M. King and Lillian Doherty Pushing the Boundaries of Historia Edited by Mary C. English and Lee M. Fratantuono Greek Myth and the Bible Bruce Louden Combined Warfare in Ancient Greece From Homer to Alexander the Great and his Successors Graham Wrightson Power Couples in Antiquity Transversal Perspectives Edited by Anne Bielman Sánchez The Extramercantile Economies of Greek and Roman Cities New Perspectives on the Economic History of Classical Antiquity Edited by David B. Hollander, Thomas R. Blanton IV, and John T. Fitzgerald For more information on this series, visit:  https://​www.routledge.com/​ classicalstudies/​series/​RMCS

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Power Couples in Antiquity Transversal Perspectives

Edited by Anne Bielman Sánchez

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First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 selection and editorial matter, Anne Bielman Sánchez; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Anne Bielman Sánchez to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-​1-​138-​57526-​4  (hbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​351-​27244-​5  (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

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Contents

List of figures  List of contributors  Introduction: power couples: from antiquity to the contemporary world 

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1

AN N E B I E L MA N SÁ N C H EZ

1 An exceptional Argead couple: Philip II and Olympias 

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E L I Z AB E T H   CA R N EY

2 Looking for the Seleucid couple 

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MARI E   WI D M ER

3 A change of husband: Cleopatra Thea, stability and dynamism of Hellenistic royal couples (150–​129 BCE ) 

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MON I C A D ’AGO STI N I

4 Marital crises or institutional crises? Two Ptolemaic couples under the spotlight 

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AN N E B I E L MA N SÁ N C H EZ A N D V I RG I N I E JOLIT ON

5 The magistrate and the queen: Antony and Cleopatra 

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MARI E -​C L AI R E FER R I ÈS

6 Mark Antony and the women at his side 

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AN N -​C AT H RI N H A R D ER S

7 An exceptional and eternal couple: Augustus and Livia  F RAN C E SC A C EN ER I N I

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8 A love poet’s script for an Augustan power couple: Propertius 4.11 

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J U D I T H P.  H A LLETT

9 Claudius and his wives: the normality of the exceptional? 

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T H OMAS   S PÄTH

10 Power couples in antiquity: an initial survey 

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AN N E B I E L MA N SÁ N C H EZ

Index 

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Figures

3.1 Silver tetradrachm (32 mm, 16.85 g, 12h) from Ptolemais/​ Acco. Obverse: Jugate busts right of Cleopatra, in the foreground, wearing diadem, kalathos, and veil, and Alexander Balas, wearing diadem; cornucopia behind her shoulder; in field left, A above cornucopia. Reverse: ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΑΛΕΞΑΝΔΡΟΥ ΘΕΟΠΑΤΟΡΟΣ ΕΥΕΡΓΕΤΟΥ. Zeus seated on throne left, sceptre in his left hand, holding Nike standing facing with spread wings in his outstretched right hand. NAC Auction 29 Lot 220, 11. May 2005 (cf. https://​www.acsearch.info/​search.html?id=221994). Photo courtesy of Numismatica Ars Classica, http://​www. arsclassicacoins.com/​ 3.2 Silver tetradrachm (27 mm, 15.97 g., 12h) from Seleucia on the Tigris. Obverse: Jugate busts right of Demetrius I diademed, and Laodice draped and wearing stephane. Fillet border. Reverse: ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΔΗΜΗΤΡΙΟΥ. Tyche seated left on backless throne supported by winged tritoness, holding short sceptre in the right hand and cornucopia. Dotted border. Palm branch in outer left field and ΗΡ ligate and in outer right field Ρ retrograde. In exergue, ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ. NAC Auction 100 Lot 167, 29. May 2017 (cf. https://​www. acsearch.info/​search.html?id=3886009). Photo courtesy of Numismatica Ars Classica, http://​www.arsclassicacoins.com/​ 3.3 Gold stater (18.5mm, 8.54 g, 1g) from Ptolemais/​Acco. Obverse: Diademed and veiled bust of Cleopatra Thea right, wearing stephane and single-​pendant earring. Border of dots. Reverse: BAΣIΛIΣΣHΣ KΛEOΠATPAΣ (curving), filleted double cornucopia bound with diadem. Border of dots. CNG Auction Triton XIX Lot 2072, 6 January 2016 (cf. https://​www.cngcoins.com/​Coin.aspx?CoinID=301240). Photo courtesy of Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://​ www.cngcoins.com/​

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viii  List of figures 3.4

Gold stater (27 mm, 27.80 g, 12h) from Ptolemais/​Acco 251–​250 BC E . Obverse: Diademed and veiled head of Arsinoe II right, with stephane. Reverse: AΡΣINOHΣ ΦΙΛΑΔΕΛΦΟΥ (curving), filleted double cornucopia bound with diadem. In field, LE -​PT ligate Border of dots. NAC Auction 66 Lot 79, 17. Oct. 2012 (cf. https://​www. acsearch.info/​search.html?id=1390199). Photo courtesy of Numismatica Ars Classica, http://​www.arsclassicacoins.com/​ 4.1 The genealogical stemma for Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III 4.2a Upper register of the Raphia Decree stele (from Pithom), with Arsinoe III as Isis standing to the left of her brother-​ spouse Ptolemy IV mounted on horseback and pointing his spear at a prisoner. Cairo Museum. Photo G. Lenzo 4.2b Reconstruction drawing (freely inspired) of the upper register of the Raphia Decree stele. Drawing: Marquita Volken 4.3 Localisation of the representations of Arsinoe III at Edfu dating from the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator 4.4 Genealogical stemma of the Ptolemaic royalty in the second century; names in bold indicate involvement in the civil war of 132–​124 BCE 6.1 Aureus (22 mm, 8.01 g, 1 h), unknown mint, 39 B C E , M. Antonius. Obverse: M·ANTON·IMP·III·VIR·R·P·C. Head of M. Antonius, right; border of dots. Reverse: Head of Octavia, right. RRC 527,1. (Cf. http://​ikmk.smb.museum/​ object?id=18202297). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18202297. Picture by D. Sonnenwald 6.2 Sestertius, bronze (37 mm, 19.75 g, 6 h), from Corinth (?), 38–​37 BC E , M. Antonius and L. Sempronius Atratinus. Obverse: [M ANT IMP TER COS] DES ITER [ET TER III VIR -​R P C]. [ANT, MP ligated]. Head of M. Marcus Antonius, right. Vis-​à-​vis bust of Octavia, left. Reverse: [L ATRATINVS AVGVR] COS DE[SIG]. Quadriga of hippocamps, right, steered by Antonius and Octavia as Poseidon and Amphitrite; below one rectangular object (astragal?) and stamp Δ. RPC I 1453. (Cf. http://​ikmk. smb.museum/​object?id=18215869). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18215869. Picture by D. Sonnenwald 6.3 Tressis, bronze (31mm, 16.73 g, 6h), from Corinth (?), 38–​37 BC E , M. Antonius and L. Sempronius Atratinus. Obverse: M ANT IMP TER COS [DES ITER ET TER III VIR R P C]. [ANT, MP ligated]. Jugate busts of M. Antonius, in front, and C. Iulius Caesar (Octavianus), behind, right. Vis-​à-​vis bust of Octavia, left. Reverse: L ATRA-​TINVS AVGVR

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72 73 78 86

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List of figures ix COS DESIG. Three galleys under sail, right. Lituus above, below stamp Γ and triskeles. RPC I 1454,2. (Cf. http://​ ikmk.smb.museum/​object?id=18215870). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18215870. Picture by D. Sonnenwald 6.4 Cistophorus, silver (28 mm, 11.61 g, 12 h), from Ephesus (?), c. 39 B C E . Obverse: M ANTONIVS IMP COS DESIG ITER ET TERT. Jugate busts of M. Antonius, wreathed in ivy, in front, and Octavia, behind, right. Reverse: III VIR -​R P C. Dionysus standing on cista mystica, left, with a thyrsus in his left hand and a kantharos in his right hand; flanked by twisting snakes. RPC I 2202. (Cf. http://​ ikmk.smb.museum/​object?id=18200378). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18200378. Picture by L.-​J. Lübke (Lübke and Wiedemann) 8.1 The genealogical stemma for Paullus Aemilius Lepidus and his wife Cornelia

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Contributors

Anne Bielman Sánchez has been Professor of Ancient History at the University of Lausanne, Switzerland, since 2005. Her research focuses on social problematics, especially on female public activities in the Greek Hellenistic world and in the Republican Roman world: queens, priestesses, female magistrates, and benefactors. Works include Inventer le pouvoir féminin: Cléopâtre I et Cléopâtre II, reines d’Egypte au IIe s. av. J.-​C. (2015, co-​authored with Giuseppina Lenzo) and Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome (2016, co-​ed. with Isabelle Cogitore and Anne Kolb). From 2016 to 2019, she is leading a project funded by the Swiss National Fund for Scientific Research (FNS) that explores the phenomenon of “couples” in Greco-​Roman antiquity. Elizabeth Carney is Carol K.  Brown Endowed Scholar in Humanities at Clemson University, USA. Her scholarship has often dealt with Macedonian monarchy (King and Court in Macedonia: Rivalry, Treason and Conspiracy, 2015) and the relationship of royal women to Hellenistic monarchy (Women and Monarchy in Ancient Macedonia, 2000; Olympias, Mother of Alexander the Great, 2006; Arsinoe of Egypt and Macedon: A Royal Life, 2013). She is currently working on a study of the public role and image of Eurydice, mother of Philip II. Francesca Cenerini is Full Professor of Roman History and Epigraphy and Roman Institutions at the University of Bologna, Italy. Her main area of specialisation is Ancient History. In particular, her research interests address the representation of the female condition in the Roman Age by analysis of the epigraphic documentation. This line of investigation has produced many articles published both in scientific and informative journals, in miscellaneous volumes, in proceedings of conferences, and in two monographs: La donna romana. Modelli e realta (2002; 2nd ext. ed. 2009, repr. 2013); Dive e donne. Mogli, madri, glie e sorelle degli imperatori romani da Augusto a Commodo (2009). In 2016 she co-​ edited (with Francesca Rohr Vio, University of Venice) Matronae in domo et in re publica agentes. Spazi e occasioni dell’azione femminile nel mondo romano tra tarda repubblica e primo impero. In the same year she published an essay entitled “Il matrimonio con un’Augusta: forma

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List of contributors xi di legittimazione?”, in A. Bielman Sánchez, I. Cogitore, and A. Kolb (eds), Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome (2016). Monica D’Agostini is a Research Fellow at Sacro Cuore Catholic University of Milano, Italy, in the Department of History, Archaeology and History of Art. Dr D’Agostini also collaborates with the Waterloo Institute for Hellenistic Studies of Canada, where she has been several times as teaching and research fellow. After completing a PhD on Seleucid queenship, she focused her research on Hellenistic dynasties, power and diplomacy, in the Antigonid and Seleucid kingdoms. Dr D’Agostini’s published contributions in English and Italian concern ancient Greek and Roman historiography as well as Greek epigraphy and numismatics. Her most recent works are two book chapters: “Asia Minor and the many shades of a civil war: Observations on Achaios the Younger and his claim on the Kingdom of Anatolia”, in K. Erickson (ed.), The Seleukid Empire, 281–222 BC: War within the Family. Swansea, 59–82; “Representation and Agency of Royal Women in Hellenistic Dynastic Crises. The Case of Berenike and Laodike I”, in A. Bielman Sánchez, I. Cogitore, and A. Kolb (eds), Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome (2016). Marie-​Claire Ferries is a lecturer at the University of Grenoble (UGA), France. She was a member of the École française de Rome (2015/​2016). Her research focuses on the end of the Republic, especially the triumvirate era and the political elites. Her doctoral thesis, published in 2007 under the title Les partisans d’Antoine, consisted of a study of the social composition and the political history of the Roman party of Mark Antony. Her most recent publications study the transitions of the first century B C E , mainly in Rome and the Orient, with a juridical, numismatic, and prosopographical approach: Les confiscations, le pouvoir et Rome, co-​published in 2016 with C. Chillet and Y. Rivière; Auguste et l’Asie Mineure, copublished in 2017 with L. Cavalier and F. Delrieux. Judith P. Hallett, Professor of Classics and Distinguished Scholar-​Teacher at the University of Maryland, USA, holds degrees from Wellesley College, USA, and Harvard University, USA. She has published widely in the areas of Latin language and literature; women, the family, and sexuality in Greco-​Roman Antiquity; and the study and reception of Classics in the Anglophone world. A 2013 collection of essays from Routledge, Domina Illustris:  Latin Literature, Gender and Reception, edited by D.  Lateiner, B. Gold, and J Perkins,| celebrates her academic career. Ann-​Cathrin Harders is Lecturer in Ancient History at the University of Bielefeld, Germany. Her interests include kinship studies in Greek and Roman societies, the history of the Roman Republic, and Hellenistic monarchies. She is the author of Suavissima Soror. Bruder-​ Schwester-​ Beziehungen in der römischen Republik (2008), and of several articles on Roman prosopography, the Roman family, and Hellenistic royal couples.

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xii  List of contributors Virginie Joliton obtained a Master’s degree in Egyptology at the University Paul Valery-​Montpellier 3 in Montpellier, France, and then in 2015 became Doctor of Philosophy of the University of Lausanne, Switzerland, with a PhD dissertation entitled “Etude iconographique des représentations de la reine dans les temples de l’Egypte ptolémaïque”, earned at the Institute of Archeology and Sciences of Antiquity. This work received one of the Faculty Prizes in 2016. Specialising in the study of queens of Ptolemaic Egypt, she continues her research on the representation of these women in native temples, in particular in relation to the reality of their status and of their political power. Thomas Späth is Professor of Ancient Cultures and Constructions of Antiquity at the Center for Global Studies and the History Department of the University of Bern, Switzerland. His publications on gender history in Antiquity, ancient and modern historiography, and the reception of Antiquity in modern popular culture include Männlichkeit und Weiblichkeit bei Tacitus. Zur Konstruktion der Geschlechter in der römischen Kaiserzeit (1994). Together with V. Dasen, he is the editor of Children, Memory, and Family Identity in Roman Culture (2010); with T. Lochman and A. Stähli, of Antike im Kino/​L’Antiquité au Cinéma (2008); and with U. Schüren and D.  Segesser, of Globalized Antiquity. Uses and Perceptions of the Past in South Asia, Mesoamerica, and Europe (2015). Marie Widmer is currently postdoctoral researcher at Aix Marseille Univ, CNRS, TDMAM, LabexMed, France, working on a project on the ideal of the good Hellenistic ruler. Her research interests concern power distribution within the Hellenistic kingdoms. She is particularly interested in the Seleucid kingdom and the status of royal women, which she has investigated mainly by means of epigraphic evidence. She has published several articles in this field (including “Pourquoi reprendre le dossier des reines hellénistiques? Le cas de Laodice V”, in F. Bertholet et al., Egypte, Grece, Rome. Les différents visages des femmes antiques (2008) and “Apamé. Une reine au coeur de la construction d’un royaume”, in A. Bielman Sánchez, I. Cogitore, and A. Kolb (eds), Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome (2016). She is preparing the publication of a book based on her PhD thesis, concentrating on the political identities of the Seleucid queens.

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Introduction Power couples: from antiquity to the contemporary world Anne Bielman Sánchez

Power couple:  these two words may evoke Beyoncé and Jay-​Z, Brangelina, or Barack and Michelle Obama, two people of different sexes, both rich and famous, who officially live together, who willingly present themselves as a duo on the media scene, and who have an influence on millions of people. In tandem, the fame and influence of each partner reinforces, enhances, and supports that of the other, so that the couple acquires visibility which exceeds that of each individual partner. Even if the expression “power couple” is relatively recent, the phenomenon has existed for a long time1. In Greco-​Roman antiquity, there were such couples, in which both partners had significant personal wealth and/​or power and who promoted their partnership with the idea to benefit from it. The purpose of this chapter is to identify a certain number of these ancient power couples who lived between the end of the fourth century B C E and the first century C E , to analyse the processes they used to highlight themselves, to understand their motivations and their relational dynamics. This study of ancient power couples is part of a project carried out by a research team from the University of Lausanne and entitled “Regards croisés sur les couples dans l’Antiquité gréco-​romaine, IVe siècle av. J.-​C. -​IIe siècle ap. J.-​C.”.2 It aims to compare “ordinary couples” and “power couples” –​within and between each of the different ancient cultures and societies concerned. First, “ordinary couples” and “power couples” must be defined. We designate as “ordinary couples” all couples who cannot be considered as “power couples”. More precisely, the term “ordinary couples” refers to couples whose qualities, activities, and behaviours are similar to those of the majority of couples of their own status or class, and who do not appear to have any specific position or attributes among their peers; the members of these couples could thus belong as well to the lower strata of the population (slaves or freedmen) as to the middle classes or to the social elites (magistrates and priests of the Hellenistic cities, equestrian, senatorial, or consular families in Rome, etc.); they represented the large majority of the population. For its part, the term “power couple” has been reserved for partnerships which meet several criteria:

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2  Anne Bielman Sánchez

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​ hey are couples made up of an adult man and a woman,3 both alive,4 T who maintain a stable relationship, conjugal or not but with sexual relations implied on account of the existence of common children. ​They are couples in which at least one of the partners occupied permanently the head of an ancient state. The Hellenistic kings and queens, the triumvirs of Republican Rome and their partners, and the Roman emperors and empresses are therefore concerned in an exclusive way.

Limiting ancient power couples to political leaders may seem surprising when compared to contemporary power couples who are much more related to the arts, show business, and sport than to the political world. This limitation is based on two arguments. On the one hand, certainly, some Greek or Roman actors and musicians exerted an influence on leaders, in particular on certain Roman emperors, but their influence was discreet, unofficial, and little promoted; moreover, we know nothing of the couples to which these actors or musicians belonged, apart from the fact that they were in no way regarded as “power couples”. On the other hand, in antiquity, the political arena was the privileged marker of male individual power: the most powerful individuals –​whether their power came from military victories, money, and land, or from family social prestige –​chose first and foremost to express and assert their power by holding political office and responsibilities. Furthermore, even if the feminine members of these ancient power couples did not have political rights in the strict sense,5 both members of such couples were willing to form a particular entity which was active in the political sector. However, it would be reductive to consider the sphere of influence and authority of the ancient power couples to be concerned only with the political or administrative domain: in the Greek and Roman world, institutional and social structures enabled sovereigns and emperors to interfere in the religious domain (which impregnated everyday life) and also in the establishment of legal norms with consequences affecting each individual. Moreover, the wives of these leaders had powerful family and social networks that extended well beyond the walls of their homes. Finally, the names and portraits of the ancient power couples marked out urbanized spaces, sometimes encouraging the population to copy the hairstyles or bold clothing of these high-​ ranking people, in particular under the Empire where the empresses launched fashions. For all these reasons, while the couples discussed in this book are, from a certain point of view, “political power couples”, they are also much more than that. The chronological limits proposed here include the Hellenistic kingdoms (from Philip II of Macedonia and Alexander the Great, then the successors of the Conqueror), the Roman Republic, and the beginning of the Roman Empire. The choice of this chronological sequence is justified both by the presence of plentiful documentation, and also by the fact that mutual influences between the Greek and Roman worlds developed during these centuries.

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Introduction 3 Sociological, even psychological, aspects are central to our investigation of ancient power couples: we will be interested in the “real-​life experience” of these couples (insofar as one can know it); the possible relationship of domination established between partners; the sharing of public roles between the members of a duo; the legitimisation of one partner by the other; and the sharing of the financial, political, or social interests of each partner, but also in the trivial, ordinary, daily elements of the life of a power couple. We will also try to understand whether ancient power couples obeyed different social injunctions or legal norms to those of ordinary couples, and how mutual influences between the majority of couples and the couples of leaders might have played out. The ancient couple has so far attracted little attention from scholars. However, the theme overlaps with a series of studies that have appeared since the end of the 1970s and that deal with women in antiquity and with gender studies. These subjects of research were further developed at the end of the 1980s with studies that examine relations between men and women as social and cultural constructions.6 However, the specific interest of this project in couples gives it a slightly different angle of approach. Let us take the case of the Hellenistic queens and kings: while many recent works concern these historical figures and make optimal use of available documentation,7 they mainly treat the sovereigns as individual personalities. There is an absence of focused analyses on these individuals as members of a couple, on the internal dynamics of these couples, as well as on the complementarity or separation of roles between partners. Fashion phenomena in the official representation of royal couples belonging to the main Hellenistic dynasties (Antigonids, Lagids, Seleucids) or the reciprocal emulation between ruling couples of neighbouring kingdoms have not been sufficiently taken into account. We also lack reflections on the intimate, emotional, or sexual aspects of the relationship between royal partners and on the possibility which is given to us –​or not –​to access this kind of information in the absence of ancient paparazzi and of an effective “press”! Concerning the leaders of the end of the Roman Republic  –​Caesar, Mark Antony, Octavian –​and the women who were at their side, we notice that moderns have well understood the political role of the partners of these statesmen, namely, their capacity to mobilize their familial and social networks,8 but a comparative approach on the functioning of these few couples and on the development of political strategies as a duo is still lacking. For the first and second centuries CE scholars have already taken an interest in the partnerships between emperors and empresses, that is, in the notion of the “imperial couple”. The different couples of emperors and empresses were examined from the point of view of the power relations between partners, of their political and civic involvement, of their religious involvement, and of their representation as leadership couples.9 It is noted, however, that some of these studies neglected to focus on the interpersonal relationships established between the members of an imperial couple.

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4  Anne Bielman Sánchez Indeed, the study of the power couple  –​ancient or contemporary  –​is of course part of reflections on femininity and masculinity, but it adds the dimension of the emotional bond and relational dynamics. Such a study must integrate recent approaches to emotions, even if it is particularly difficult for us to grasp the emotional interactions and effects within various ancient power couples. The difficulties stem from the nature of the documentation we have pertaining to the specific category of couples. A large proportion of the testimonies comes from the classical authors. They have, however, introduced numerous biases in their descriptions of leading couples, either by resorting to stereotypes about the respective roles of men and women or by favouring an idealized and/​or normative vision of the conjugal relationship. The gap between these literary accounts and the reality of the relations within each ancient power couple is not easy to measure. Moreover, while ordinary ancient couples could freely express their attachment in a public way, notably on their funerary monuments, power couples had to take into account in each of their acts and statements the porosity between “private life” and “public life” or “political life”; the expression of their feelings –​that is love or hatred –​was controlled and calculated in the light of important political issues. The same could be said of contemporary political power couples.10 The official vectors of communication which, from the fourth century B C E to the second century C E , presented their active leaders to the population –​such as monumental inscriptions, bas-​reliefs, statues, or coins –​hardly allowed emotional spontaneity or passionate impulses. The official documents obey codes and patterns of representation that mask the real nature of feelings between partners of an ancient power couple. This book wishes to deal with the subject of ancient power couples from a broad diachronic perspective. Indeed, there is still no comparative study between the relational dynamics of the Hellenistic royal couples and those of the Roman rulers at the end of the Republic and during the Empire. However, the contribution of a transperiodic approach concerning social and gender issues is indisputable: such an approach highlights the evolution or immutability of several social aspects from one civilisation to another; it sometimes allows the relevance of modern terminology to be re-​evaluated, and often deemed anachronistic because it applies only to a given period and society. To implement these diachronic questions in the study of ancient power couples, a workshop with a dozen of specialists in gender studies was organized.11 Since we did not want to juxtapose scattered contributions, the approach was conceived from the outset in a collective and participatory manner. The specialists invited to the workshop received a list of questions that were considered to be particularly relevant and valid for many Greco-​ Roman power couples. Each speaker was asked to treat one or more of these transverse questions in his or her contribution. The aim was to identify some major characteristics of ancient power couples and to measure their permanence or evolution over several centuries and in culturally distinct societies. These shared questions provoked very diverse answers depending on

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Introduction 5 the ancient sources used, the power couple examined, the society in which a power couple evolved, and the methodology preferred by the speaker. Several exchanges and discussions promoted new interpretations and assumptions. This book, which follows the workshop, contains nine contributions organized in chronological order. The first four concern the Hellenistic kingdoms:  Elizabeth Carney deals with the two main royal couples of the Argead dynasty, Philip II-​Olympias and Philip III Arrhidaeus-​Adea Eurydice; Marie Widmer looks for Seleucid couples and identifies Antiochus III and Laodice as the first couple “active as such” in the dynasty; Monica D’Agostini examines which of the three Seleucid couples that involved the queen Cleopatra Thea might be considered power couples; Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton examine two Ptolemaic couples reputed to have experienced serious conjugal crises (Ptolemy IV-​Arsinoe III; Ptolemy VIII-​Cleopatra II). The other five contributions focus on Republican and Imperial Rome: Marie-​Claire Ferriès is interested in the dramatisation of the relationship of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII; Ann-​Cathrin Harders compares the different couples formed by Mark Antony and his Roman wives; Francesca Cenerini studies the evolution of the couple Octavian/​Augustus-​Livia between the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Principate; Judith Hallett demonstrates how the couple formed by L. Aemilius Lepidus Paullus and his wife Cornelia was particularly powerful; Thomas Späth discusses the character –​exceptional or not –​of certain power couples, through the unions of the emperor Claudius with Messalina, then with Agrippina.12 A summary chapter takes stock of our reflections and highlights the main divergences and convergences between the Greek and Roman worlds concerning power couples, viewed as a political, cultural, and social phenomenon. This final chapter also aims to re-​examine some societal values, some taboos, and some gendered behaviours of the Greco-​Roman world through the prism of power couples. In the discussions which followed, the workshop comparisons between ancient and contemporary power couples emerged frequently, as in the contributions of A.-​ C. Harders and J.  Hallett. Implicitly, we may have considered that the drivers of human behaviour in the face of power and money games are no different today than they were in ancient societies and that, consequently, similar strategies and mechanisms could be identified in ancient and in contemporary power couples. For this reason, we will now offer some general remarks on contemporary power couples in this introduction to this investigation of ancient power couples. The term “power couple” has recently appeared in English dictionaries. The Oxford English Dictionary (edition 2016)  defines it as “Two ambitious people with powerful careers who are married to each other”.13 The Oxford English Living Dictionaries offers this: “A couple consisting of two people who are each influential or successful in their own right”.14 Lastly, the Cambridge Dictionary describes a power couple as “Two people who are married to each

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6  Anne Bielman Sánchez other, or in a relationship with each other, and both have extremely successful careers, especially in politics or entertainment”.15 The example given by this dictionary refers to Mrs Clinton: “Hillary Clinton is part of the power couple that has dominated the Democratic party since the early 1990s”. In the examples provided by these various dictionaries, the expression is often supplemented by adjectives that underline the popularity of the couple or specify the reasons for their celebrity:  “a legendary Hollywood power couple”, “Hollywood’s hottest power couple”, “the indie rock power couple”, “a political power couple”.16 Several elements seem indispensable if a duo is to make the list of power couples that are in vogue: “They are the ultimate power couple: smart, wealthy, and deeply in love”.17 In her study, J. Hallett refers to a 2016 Huffington Post article which noted that this new term comes from the “netspeak” and reflects a social innovation –​and not, as is usually the case, a technological innovation (Hallett n. 2). These definitions are listed and detailed in the free online encyclopaedia Wikipedia, under the entry “Supercouple”. This entry exists in the English version of the encyclopaedia, as well as in the French version but in a very abbreviated form. In the English entry (faithfully translated in the French entry), such a duo is considered “popular or financially wealthy pairings that are widely admired in an intense or obsessive fashion and influence society’s expectations of what a great love story or relationship should be; they may or may not be romantic or high-​profile and interest in the pairings may be due to a combination of chemistry, physical attractiveness, or because they seem fated”.18 The two entries consider that the expressions “supercouple” or “power couple” are synonymous; they also trace their origins to the United States at the beginning of the 1980s, on the basis of the most popular couple of the American soap opera General Hospital, a TV series broadcast every week since 1963 and still in production.19 As Diana Reep points out, an essential feature of soap opera power couples is the love that the partners have for each other, a love “so perfect that nothing could interfere with [it] except an evil, outside force”.20 On this criterion of the loving relationship, several fictional duos evolving in soap operas or television series in prime time were qualified as supercouples, sometimes a posteriori. There are fewer film couples raised to this status than television couples. According to the online editors responsible for these Wikipedia entries, this can be explained by the fact that it is more difficult to make the public understand only in an hour and a half or two hours (i.e. the average duration of a film) how much two people love each other.21 However a few couples comprised of Hollywood actors benefited from this label as soon as the expression spread: Clark Gable and Carole Lombard were probably the first, followed by Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner, then by Richard Burton and Liz Taylor. Since the end of the 1990s, there have been countless duos of personalities defined as power couples.22 These people belong mainly to the field of cinema, theatre, music, and sport; they are beautiful, rich, and present in the media, and they stage their love affair.

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Introduction 7 Since the early 2000s, some of these couples were nicknamed by the media with a “portmanteau” (= “mot-​valise” in French):  Bennifer for Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, or Brangelina for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, for example.23 The fashion of the portmanteau applied to some privileged power couples and then spread outside the United States, to Japan or India in particular. In an article published in The Guardian in 2000, the English journalist Polly Vernon summarizes the advantages for two famous people of forming a power couple: “By hooking up with another, carefully selected celeb, you can eliminate your bad points […]. Attach yourself to someone smarter, prettier, more fashionable, hipper, funnier than you are, and you will automatically acquire these missing qualities by osmosis […]. Together, you are quite literally, the ultimate individual”.24 The title of the article, “The Power of Two”, combines  –​perhaps for the first time so explicitly  –​the notion of couple and that of power. The journalist analyses in an ironic and relevant way the reasons why “two stars are better than one”. From the fictional universe with couples intensely in love, we pass thus, in real life, to couples who exploit their affectionate relationship for the individual benefit of the partners. In P. Vernon’s remarks, we note the importance attached to the choice of partner, whose advantages and defects (physical, social, cultural, etc.) are carefully evaluated in terms of media coverage and popularity. Getting together in order to conquer or win back a media audience has indeed become a strategy since the late 1990s. For example, the top model Claudia Schiffer and the magician David Copperfield were suspected by the German newspaper Bunte in 1998 of being in a romantic relationship only to boost their popularity, Claudia in America and David in Europe.25 Let us note that what was reproached to the protagonists  –​in this case  –​was their attempt to mislead the public on the nature of their love feelings but not their attempt to use their coupling as a springboard for their careers. Because nobody denies it: the power couple can be a huge multiplier of popularity, especially when the partners belong to different cultural communities. One of the best examples is the relationship of Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck, who combined the Latino-​American community and the White-​American community. On the other hand, J. Hallett notes that one member of a political power couple can sometimes damage the image and reputation of his/​her partner (Hallett, n. 10). One of the few academic studies devoted to the contemporary phenomenon of celebrity couples confirms the importance of feeling in love for the popularity of contemporary supercouples.26 The stability of this bond is often dramatized with the birth of shared children, the offspring both confirming the permanence of the loving bond between the partners –​a central element of supercouples –​and also giving a new impetus to the media audience of the couple.27 Some supercouples thus become “superfamilies”: the Beckhams or the Kardashians excel in this staging of the family group. The twenty-​ first century thus overturns twentieth-​ century codes, according to which

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8  Anne Bielman Sánchez individualism was at the heart of the star system and celebrity.28 Perhaps it explains why The Crown, a recent American-​British television series, focuses on romantic relationships and feelings within the Windsor royal family.29 A successful reality show, Power Couples, aims to test the degree of complicity between partners of famous couples. Created by Israeli television, this program was sold in 2015 to various channels around the world, notably in India.30 The principle of the broadcast is simple:  ten celebrity couples are placed in an enclosed space, cut off from any communication with the outside world, and are confronted with more or less unpleasant situations where their intimate knowledge of each other is tested. According to an article in India Today, “the show can be hailed as the ultimate relationship test for couples, as it will highlight their compatibility and power as a team”.31 This broadcast focuses the public’s attention on the quality of the couple’s relationship: the winning duo of the show does not gain (or does not only gain) a power couple status based only on the fame and fortune of the partners but (also) on the strength of their sentimental bond. The depth of the romantic relationship thus remains a constant of contemporary famous couples, while the transformation of these duos into conquering couples, in search of increased media glory, is confirmed by the journalist Vincent Cocquebert in his article published in 2011, “You + Me = More Power. The New Reign of Power Couples”.32 It is now accepted that the fame of a power couple exceeds the simple addition of the popularity of each partner.33 However, there have been few critical reflections on a paradoxical point: the valorisation of a duo in a “star system” where individual narcissism dominates. Moreover, it would be appropriate to analyse from a sociological angle the processes used by certain stars to turn each of their successive unions into power couples.34 Several lists of power couples or supercouples circulate on the Web, notably in Wikipedia’s English and French entries. It is interesting to note that these lists do not match. Those offered on Anglo-​Saxon sites only list fictional couples (soap operas, prime time TV shows, films, comic books, toys, animation films).35 On the other hand, several real couples –​celebrities from the arts, entertainment, or sports are mentioned in the Wikipedia “Supercouples” English entry, but no list is proposed. There are also no political figures among the couples listed in the Wikipedia English entry, and the images associated with the English terms “supercouple” or “power couple” only very rarely refer to Anglo-​Saxon political figures:  here and there appear Barack and Michelle Obama, John and Jackie Kennedy, even Kate and William of England. And S. Cobb and N. Ewen point out the existence of the portmanteau Billary to casually name the Clintons.36 For its part, Wikipedia’s “Supercouples” entry in French offers two separate lists. The first entitled “Celebrities” includes a list of 100 Anglo-​Saxon couples, 95 per cent of whom come from the world of arts, entertainment, and sports, but there are still the Obamas, the Clintons, Bill and Melinda Gates,

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Introduction 9 the media magnate Rupert Murdoch and his wife, as well as the royals Kate and William.37 The second list concerns only the 14 French couples deemed worthy of belonging to this circle.38 However, if half of them are composed of actors, actresses, or jet-​setters, in the other half of the couples at least one of the members is a political personality (president of the French Republic or minister). François Hollande appeared twice, with Ségolène Royal on the one hand, with Julie Gayet on the other.39 Wikipedia thus suggests that France (or the French-​speaking world) would more readily admit couples of politicians into the pantheon of contemporary power couples. A.-​C. Harders, who takes as contemporary example of a power couple Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron, reinforces this impression (Harders). Yet let us avoid hasty conclusions:  J. Hallett’s study confirms that there is indeed a current in the United States which, since 1983, has recognised and admired political power couples (Hallett, n. 2 and 5). A book published in 2003 offers a selection of 23 power couples active in various fields.40 The author, Mary Abbott, addresses two ancient examples (Mark Antony and Cleopatra, then the Roman emperor Justinian and his wife Theodora), eight couples from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century and 13 duos from the twentieth century. However, the choice made by the author for the period 1900–​2000 is original:  in addition to two expected couples (Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor; David and Victoria Beckham), and two couples linked to the British monarchy (the Duke of Windsor and Wallis Simpson; Charles and Diana), we meet a couple of scientists (Pierre and Marie Curie), a couple of poets (Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath), and seven couples of whom at least one of the partners was involved in politics: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, Mao Zedong and his wife, Juan and Evita Peròn, Nelson and Winnie Mandela, John and Jackie Kennedy, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Tony Blair and his wife. The starting hypothesis of Mary Abbott is this: from antiquity to the twenty-​first century, the power couple is a social construction, at the basis of which we find a woman of character, a powerful woman. However, Abbott considers the power couple to be “a feature of modern life”41 in the sense that, in her view, women’s access to higher education since the 1960s favoured their husbands’ political careers. This statement probably explains why the share of political power couples is so important in the list that M. Abbott has constituted. J. Hallett in some ways supports this view by recalling that many of the female partners of contemporary American power couples who are active in politics had achieved a brilliant individual career before their marriage and constituted a sort of “trophy” for their husbands (Hallett). A collective anthropological reflection led by academics around a series of famous American, English, and Indian couples confirms the massive predominance in this group of people from film and television circles. The authors also point out in their introduction that the largest Anglo-​Saxon magazines have their own lists of celebrities, classified into subcategories, for example, “the highest-​earning celebrity couples”, “the world’s most powerful couples”,

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10  Anne Bielman Sánchez “the ten best power couples”, “the hottest celebrity couples”, and so on.42 All this shows that the definition of a power couple is neither univocal nor fixed, but that, nevertheless, in most contemporary Western societies (and particularly in the United States), politicians and their partners a priori may not form power couples; those who are considered as such constitute exceptions and not the rule. This observation is confirmed by the absence of global sociological studies on contemporary political power couples. It makes the comparison with ancient power couples –​whose power came from politics and was based on it –​more difficult. An interesting point concerns the mutual influences between contemporary power couples and ordinary couples in contemporary Western societies. Some members of famous couples claim their wish –​even their right –​to lead a life similar to that of any couple. A comment made by Zayn Malik, Gigi Hadid’s partner, during an interview for the Evening Standard was repeated by various media and websites: “But I can understand how it can look, that you’ve got these two people in a ‘power couple’. That’s not something I  want to be a part of. I’m with her [= Gigi Hadid] because I  like her, and I  hope she’s with me because she likes me. When we come home, we don’t really talk about that sh*t. We just spend time together as a normal couple, cook food, watch TV, have a laugh”.43 This is an attempt to erase the distance (at least in the intimate sphere) between a couple involved in the star system and anonymous couples. However, there is a paradox here since, according to Chris Rojek, “to be a celebrity is to be recognized as different”.44 When a power couple tries to minimize this difference, does it not risk damaging its image? Can a duo wish to be an extraordinary couple and an ordinary couple at the same time? An analysis of public reactions to similar situations would certainly be instructive. On the other hand, the importance of the emotional link between the partners and their ability to function as a team for the rating of supercouples has given rise to a current that tends to lead ordinary couples to believe that they too can become supercouples if they show the same qualities. A definition of these ordinary power couples can be found in the Urban Dictionary. “Power couple: a relationship between two people who are equally as cool as each other. They are as individually awesome and fun to be around as they are when they are together”.45 Online tests complete this definition and allow everyone to evaluate their own relationship in order to know if they belong to the circle of “total power couples”.46 Seen from this perspective, duos made up of two people remarkable for their wealth, their power, and their media fame, and duos made up of ordinary people whose good understanding and ability to highlight their relationship makes them remarkable, share a common point: they fascinate those who meet them, see them, admire them. We will have to take into account this mutual fascination between power couples and ordinary couples, as observed in contemporary Western societies, when we discuss, in the conclusion to this volume, the correlation between power couples and other couples in Greco-​Roman antiquity.

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Introduction 11 Finally, it is worth noting a particular meaning of the term “power couples” in sociological studies published during the past decades. The term refers to adults living as a couple (male-​female, male-​male, or female-​female), who have a higher education, usually a university degree, and who enjoy strong purchasing power.47 This category of power couples is not relevant for our survey of ancient leadership couples, but could be taken into account as a contemporary point of comparison in a subsequent study of ancient social elite couples. From these few observations on supercouples or power couples emerges an obvious fact: remarkable couples, whether contemporary or ancient, represent a new field of study, still underresearched but rich of potential. A  specific focus on couples allows us to take a fresh look at a society and at the place that individuals occupy within it, whether alone or in partnerships.

Notes 1 The expression made its appearance in 2016 in the Oxford English Dictionary. You can find below in the Introduction a short analysis of the contemporary concept of “power couples”. 2 This project, supported by the Swiss National Science Foundation, extends over the period 2016–​2019. It is led by a team comprised of Prof Anne Bielman Sánchez, Dr Claude-​Emmanuelle Centlivres Challet and a junior researcher, Charlotte Golay. Another junior researcher, Jana Hoznour, is connected to the project. 3 I use the term adult man or woman according to the criteria of Greco-​Roman antiquity. In Greece, as in Rome, girls were considered nubile as of 13–​14 years. For the Hellenistic kings, papyri and inscriptions attest that legal maturity was fixed at 14 years: at this age, a son’s king whose father was deceased could ascend the throne and make decisions beyond the control of his tutor; however, some Hellenistic princes were married by their father or their legal guardian before they were 14  years old:  thus Ptolemy VI (born around 186 B CE ) was married to his younger sister Cleopatra II (born around 185–​183 B CE ) in 175 B CE : see Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 21–​3. In Rome, during the centuries of interest to us, the minimal lawful age for marriage was fixed at 12 years for girls and 14 years for boys. On age criteria in Greco-​Roman antiquity, see Sève (2008); on the rites of passage from childhood to adulthood, see e.g. Derks (2012), Dolanski (2012), or Lefkowitz (1995), but there are many studies on this subject. 4 This means that we deliberately put aside the testimonies about honours given to a deceased member of a couple by its surviving partner, like Ptolemy II did in favour of his sister-​wife, Arsinoe II (deification, coinage, bas-​reliefs, etc.). 5 They had no right to vote, neither in Greece nor in Rome, and could not take part in the legislative assemblies. In Hellenistic Greece, however, some women from rich and prestigious families obtained civic magistratures, which was strictly forbidden in the Roman world. 6 See i.e. Downs (2004), Harich-​Schwarzbauer et al. (2005), Sebillotte Cuchet et al. (2007); Boehringer S.  et  al. (2011). See also “EuGeStA. European Network on Gender Studies in Antiquity”: http://​eugesta.recherche.univ-​lille3.fr. 7 For the Seleucids, see lastly Coşkun et al. (2016). For the Antigonids, see in particular Carney (2000). For the Lagids, some recent studies exist for each reign, but

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12  Anne Bielman Sánchez it would be too long to enumerate them. However, some recent titles propose a bibliography: Müller (2009), Clayman (2014), Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b). 8 The bibliography is given by Kunst (2016), 197–​216. 9 See in particular Delrieux et  al. (2016), 81–​118; Zanni (2008), 325–​43; Corbier (1995), 178–​93. 10 We think in particular of Bill and Hillary Clinton during “the Monica Lewinsky case”. 11 “Regards croisés sur les couples exceptionnels dans l’Antiquité gréco-​romaine”, 9–​10 November 2017, University of Lausanne. 12 In this book, references to these contributions will be made by indicating in the main text or in endnotes the name of the author in bold and between brackets. 13 English Oxford Dictionary [2016]: http://​www.oed.com/​ (consulted on 18 January 2018) 14 Oxford English Living Dictionaries:  https://​en.oxforddictionaries.com/​definition/​ power_​couple (consulted on 18 January 2018). 15 Cambridge Dictionary:  https://​dictionary.cambridge.org/​fr/​dictionnaire/​anglais/​ power-​couple (consulted on 18 January 2018). 16 Oxford English Living Dictionaries:  https://​en.oxforddictionaries.com/​definition/​ power_​couple (consulted on 7 February 2018). 17 Oxford English Living Dictionaries:  https://​en.oxforddictionaries.com/​definition/​ power_​couple (consulted on 7 February 2018). 18 https://​en.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Supercouple (consulted on 7 February 2018). In the Wikipedia entry in French, these remarks are made as follows: “supercouple ou power couple sont des expressions anglophones qui expriment la popularité ou la richesse d’un couple qui passionne le public d’une manière intense et parfois obsessionnelle […] et qui rejoint ou cristallise les attentes de la société“, https://​ fr.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Supercouple (consulted on 7 February 2018). 19 https://​fr.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Supercouple (consulted on 7 February 2018). This assertion on the origin of the expression “power couple” is supported by the reference to the article of Reep (1992), 96–​102. See also Anger (1999) and Scodari (2004), in part. 30. 20 Reep (1992), 98. 21 See Arcieri (2008). 22 The contemporary supercouples do not consist only of a man and a woman: in 2006, Ellen DeGeneres and Anne Heche, who were in relationship for many years, were introduced in the American media as “the world’s first gay supercouple”: see The Advocate –​the National Gay and Lesbian Newsmagazine, 29 August 2006. In Greco-​Roman antiquity, homosexual relationships were common, but they could not be transformed into a “couple relationship”. 23 See on this subject, Diaz (2015), 275–​94. Several synonyms were proposed for this concept of portmanteau:  blended name, uni-​name, combined name, composite, name-​mesh. The first portmanteau would have been forged in the 1920s for Greta Garbo and John Gilbert: the Gilbo; see Cobb et al. (2015), 1. 24 See Vernon (2000). 25 See the summary of the case by Döbler (1998). 26 Cobb et al. (2015). In a general way, academic studies on the phenomenon of power couples/​supercouples are still rare; the main sources are articles in newspapers. See however Williams (2012), 200–​19; Marshall (2014) devotes some remarks to the question of collective celebrity, in particular that of musical groups. 27 Cobb et al. (2015), 2–​3, and part 2 “Kinship”, 73–​150.

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Introduction 13 28 See on this subject the bibliographical references by Cobb et al. (2015), 4. 29 The Crown, created by P. Morgan, has been distributed on Netflix since 2016. 30 https://​en.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Power_​Couple_​(Indian_​TV_​series) (consulted 18 January 2018). See “Hit Israeli Reality TV Show ‘Power Couple’ Is Coming to India”. Huffington Post. 1 September 2015 (http://​www.huffingtonpost.in/​2015/​ 09/​01/​power-​couple-​india_​n_​8070252.html) (consulted on 18 January 2018). 31 “Is India Ready for Power Couple?”. India Today. 2 September 2015 https://​www. indiatoday.in/​television/​reality-​tv/​story/​is-​india-​ready-​for-​power-​couple-​260848-​ 2015-​09-​02 (consulted on 6 February 2018). 32 See Cocquebert (2011). 33 See Geraghty (2012). 34 We think in particular here of Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. 35 https://​en.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​List_​of_​supercouples;http://​tvtropes.org/​pmwiki/​ pmwiki.php/​Main/​SuperCouple. 36 Cobb et al. (2015), 1. 37 https://​fr.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Supercouple. 38 https://​fr.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Supercouple, “France” (consulted on 7 February 2018). The entry “Supercouples” on Wikipedia (in French) provoked several comments. We can see that the concept of “supercouple” is not familiar to the French-​speaking net surfers because many aspects are disputed: the definition of the word, the list of the couples proposed in the note, and even the presence of this entry in the French online encyclopaedia. See: https: /​fr.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​ Discussion:Supercouple (consulted on 9 February 2018). 39 On this couple, see Degois (2014). 40 Abbott (2003). The work is intended for a large public and does not correspond to scientific standards; it does not offer any bibliography and does not present any written testimony (historical documents, archives) in support of the assertions of the author. 41 Abbott (2003), 1. 42 Cobb et al. (2015), 3. 43 https://​www.teenvogue.com/​story/​gigi-​hadid-​zayn-​malik-​two-​year-​anniversary-​ surprise-​dinner-​date (consulted on 9 February 2018). 44 Roge (2001), 177. 45 Urban Dictionary: https://​www.urbandictionary.com/​define.php?term=Power%20 Couple (consulted 10 January 2018). The definition continues as follows: “Neither one depends on the other for their feelings of self-​worth; they know in their heart that they are just as valuable to the world as the other. Good looking, optimistic, and sparks a light in the world that people recognize that goes beyond a normal relationship. In a power couple, if one person is flawed, the other person makes up for their weaknesses in strength. Together they are the epitome of what anyone would desire in a relationship. They encourage goodness in the world and make it a better place by being together”. 46 https://​www.msn.com/​en-​us/​lifestyle/​love-​sex/​9-​signs-​youre-​a-​total-​power-​couple/​ ss-​BBlqhG8 (consulted on 18 January 2018). 47 In Oxford English LivingDictionaries, an example of use of the expression “power couple” refers to this definition, even if the latter is not explicitly given in the note: “They’re a comfortably bourgeois power couple, educated professionals with two children and ample material possessions”. For sociological studies using the expression “power couple” in this direction, see for example: Dribe et al. (2010); Compton et al. (2007).

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14  Anne Bielman Sánchez

Bibliography Abbott M. (2003) Power Couples. Harlow: Pearson Education Ltd. Anger D. C. (1999) Other Worlds: Society Seen through Soap Opera. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Arcieri J. (2008) “The Power of Cinematic Love: a Tribute to Supercouples”. http://​media. www.themhnews.com/​media/​storage/​paper999/​news/​2008/​02/​14/​Entertainment/​The-​ Power.Of.Cinematic.Love-​3212026.shtml (consulted 18 January 2018). Bielman Sánchez A. and Lenzo G. (2015b) Inventer le pouvoir féminin: Cléopâtre I et Cléopâtre II, reines d’Egypte au IIe s. av. J.-​C. Bern: Peter Lang. Boehringer S. and Sebillotte Cuchet V. (eds) (2011) Hommes et femmes dans l’Antiquité grecque et romaine. Le Genre: méthodes et documents. Paris: Colin. Carney E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman:  University of Oklahoma Press. Clayman D. L. (2014) Berenice II and the Golden Age of Egypt. Oxford/​New  York: Oxford University Press. Cobb Sh. and Ewen N. (eds) (2015) First Comes Love. Power Couples. Celebrity Kinship and Cultural Politics. New-​York/​London: Bloomsbury Publishing Inc. Cocquebert V. (2011) Gentlemen’s Quarterly 8, 72–​81. Compton J. and Pollak R. A. (2007) “Why are Power Couples Increasingly Concentrated in Large Metropolitan Areas?”. Journal of Labor Economics 25, 475–​512. Corbier M. (1995) “Male Power and Legitimacy through Women:  The domus Augusta under the Julio-​Claudians”. In Hawley R. and Levick B. (eds), Women in Antiquity: New Assessments. London/​New York: Routledge, 178–​93. Coşkun A. and McAuley A. (2016) Seleukid Royal Women. Creation, Representation and Distortion of Hellenistic Queenship in the Seleukid Empire (Historia Einzelschriften 240). Stuttgart: Steiner. Degois F. (2014) Quelle histoire! Ségolène Royal et François Hollande. Paris: Plon. Delrieux F. and Ferriès M.-​C. (2016) “Portraits de femmes, profils de reines ? Les femmes sur les monnaies provinciales romaines à la fin de la République et au début de l’Empire (43 av. J.-​C -​68 ap. J.-​.C.)”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I. and Kolb A. (eds), Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​ IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG, 81–​118. Derks T. (2012) “Les rites de passage dans l’Empire romain. Esquisse d’une approche anthropologique”. In Payen P. and Scheid Tissinier E. (eds), Anthropologie de l’Antiquité: anciens objets, nouvelles approches. Brepols: Turnhout, 43–​80. Diaz V. (2015) “Brad & Angelina: and now … Brangelina. A Sociocultural Analysis of Blended Celebrity Couple Names”. In Cobb Sh. and Ewen N. (eds), First Comes Love.Power Couples, Celebrity Kinship and Cultural Politics. New  York/​ London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 275–​94. Döbler M. (1998) Tagesspiegel, 22 June 1998. http://​www.tagesspiegel.de/​weltspiegel/​ die-​akte-​claudia-​schiffer/​47528.html (consulted 8 February 2018). Dolansky F. (2012) “Playing with Gender: Girls, Dolls and Adult Ideals in the Roman World”. Classical Antiquity 31.2, 256–​92. Downs L. L. (2004) Writing Gender History. London: Hodder Arnold. Dribe M. and Stanfors M. (2010) “Family Life on Power Couples. Continued Childbearing and Unions Stability Among the Educational Elite in Sweden 1991–​ 2005”. Demographic Research 23 (article 30), 847–​78.

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Introduction 15 Geraghty C. (2012) “Perfect Pairs. The New Power of Two”. Mail Online, 15 April 2012 http://​www.dailymail.co.uk/​home/​you/​article-​2128307/​Carey-​Mulligan-​Marcus-​ Mumford-​The-​new-​British-​power-​couples-​html (consulted 8 February 2018). Harich-​Schwarzbauer H., Späth T. and Hindermann J. (eds) (2005) Gender Studies in den Altertumswissenschaften:  Räume und Geschlechter in der Antike. Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier. Kunst Ch. (2016) “Formen der Intervention einflussreicher Frauen”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I. and Kolb A. (eds), Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG, 197–​216. Lefkowitz M. (1995) “The Last Hours of the Parthenos”. In Reeder E. D. (ed.), Pandora. Women in Classical Greece. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 32–​8. Marshall D. P. (2014) Celebrity and Power. Fame in Contemporary Culture. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Müller S. (2009) Das hellenistische Königspaar in der medialen Repräsentation: Ptolemaios II und Arsinoe II. Berlin: de Gruyter. Reep D. C. (1992) “The Siren Call of the Super Couple: Soap Opera Destructive Slice toward Closure”. In Frentz S. (ed.), Staying Tuned. Contemporary Soap Opera Criticism. Bowling Green: Bowling Green State University Popular Press, 96–​102. Roge Ch. (2001) Celebrity. London: Reaktion. Scodari Ch. (2004) Serial Monogamy. Soap Opera, Lifespan and the Gendered Politics of Fantasy. New York: Hampton Press. Sébillotte Cuchet V. and Ernoult N. (eds) (2007) Problèmes du genre en Grèce ancienne. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne. Sève M. (2008) “Les Grecs de l’Antiquité connaissaient-​ils leur âge?”. Le Portique. Revue de philosophie et des sciences humaines 21, 1–​9. Turner G. (2014) Understanding Celebrity. London: SAGE. Vernon P. (2000) “The Power of Two”, The Guardian, 25 May 2000 (https://​www. theguardian.com/​film/​2000/​may/​25/​2) (consulted 8 February 2018). Widmer M. (2011) “The Repudiation of Laodice III”. Lecture summarized in the rapport of Coşkun A.  “Seleucid Study Day I, 15.08.2011 Exeter”. H-​Soz-​Kult (https://​www.hsozkult.de/​), 27 October 2011. Williams L. R. (2012) “Brangelina:  Celebrity, Credibility and the Composite Ueberstar”. In Shining in Shadows. Movie Stars in the 2000s. London:  Rutgers University Press, 200–​19. Zanni D. (2008) “Felicitas Temporum und Kaiserpaar”. In Bertholet F., Bielman Sánchez A. and Frei-​Stolba R. (eds), Egypte-​Grèce-​Rome: Les différents visages des femmes antiques. Bern: Peter Lang, 325–​43.

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1  An exceptional Argead couple Philip II and Olympias Elizabeth Carney

This chapter focuses, primarily, on one and almost certainly the first exceptional Argead (the dynasty that ruled Macedonia from the seventh century BC E until 309 BC E ) couple, Philip II and Olympias, although it also examines a second, perhaps even more exceptional Argead couple, Philip III and Adea Eurydice. I  want to consider why and how the role of royal women in the late Argead and early Hellenistic monarchy changed in a way that made such public couples something of a norm and an important way monarchy and dynasty were pictured and understood.1 Initially, monarchy in Macedonia was not  –​judging by extant sources  –​ conceptualised as a series of royal couples but rather as a series of reigning males, each somehow descended from an earlier male Argead; biology required a couple but presentation apparently did not.2 Argead kings probably practiced polygamy from an early date.3 Whether a cause or consequence of this lack of focus on couples, no institutionalised chief wife or female title existed.4 When narrative sources mention very early royal women, they refer to royal daughters, widows, or mothers, not to wives. Admittedly, the paucity of evidence for this period could exaggerate the apparent lack of interest in royal pairings. Royal wives and their marriages became somewhat more visible during and to some degree because of the career of Eurydice, mother of Philip II (359–​ 336) and wife of Amyntas III (394/​3–​370/​69).5 Justin6 claims that Eurydice committed adultery with her son-​in-​law, plotted to murder her husband, and put her lover on the throne, but that Amyntas pardoned her, for the sake of their children. Justin7 also alleges that, undaunted, Eurydice later killed her two oldest sons. The scholiast for Aeschines 2.29 attributes only one murder to Eurydice, that of her eldest son, but he also claims that she acted in concert with her –​according to him –​second husband, Ptolemy, though whether that man was king or regent at the time or, for that matter, her husband, is uncertain.8 The monuments Eurydice herself erected commemorated her either as a mother or as a patron, and they employed her personal name and a patronymic. Her husband is not mentioned in her three known dedicatory inscriptions, two of which were found on the site of the Eucleia sanctuary

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An exceptional Argead couple 17 at Vergina/​Aegae. In addition, the survival of an inscribed statue base, at Palatitsia, indicates that a portrait of Eurydice once stood near Vergina; it too refers to her by patronymic alone. This base was apparently part of a statue group, but one too large to portray only a couple.9 The Philippeum, a building Philip decided to have constructed at Olympia after his great victory at Chareronea in 338, did include statues of Amyntas and Eurydice, apparently placed next to each other, to Philip II’s left, but their images form part of a three-​generational construct; they appear together as progenitors –​perhaps a first in itself –​not really as a couple. Five figures, in all, once stood in the Philippeum.10 Eurydice was an exceptional woman, but she was not portrayed nor did she portray herself as part of a couple, exceptional or no. This is not surprising since nearly everything we know about her comes from the period of her widowhood. Her career demonstrates that royal women had begun to be public figures, but in her case, this change first happened because of the battle to insure the succession and survival of her sons,11 and later because of the need to demonstrate that she and they were legitimate. If, as I believe, many of these “public appearances” of Eurydice date to the reign of her youngest son, Philip II, then they are also examples of Philip’s elevation of the royal family to prominence in monuments and public events, an elevation often including the women of his family. Apart from his desire to confirm his mother’s and thus his own respectability, Philip was certainly interested in showing his domination and that of his family. Our sources  –​of course, nearly all date to the Roman era  –​do indeed portray Philip and Olympias as a couple. One could argue that Plutarch (in the Life of Alexander but in some of the essays as well) virtually invented Olympias and Philip as a couple, a dysfunctional but certainly exceptional one. While Plutarch’s biographies often focus on the formative years of the person under consideration, the amount of attention Plutarch devotes to Olympias, as well as to Philip, is striking. Plutarch need not have treated them as a couple, particularly granted that Philip had six other wives, but the first part of the Alexander centres on Philip and Olympias as a pair, though primarily as a parental pair. Plutarch implausibly asserts that their marriage was a love match occasioned by their chance meeting, when both were young, at their initiation into the mysteries at Samothrace.12 Similarly, he describes Philip’s last marriage to the young Cleopatra as a love match,13 and that of Alexander and Roxane as well.14 Plutarch thus romanticises (and eroticises) marriages actually initiated as part of political alliances.15 He does seem to characterise these marriages as either the consequence of the previous existence of a couple, as in the case of Philip and Olympias, or as marking the creation of one. Plutarch treats the sexual union of Philip and Olympias as momentous yet rather frightening: before the marriage is consummated, Olympias dreams that a thunderbolt strikes her womb and causes a fire; later Philip has a prophetic dream about sealing his wife’s womb with the device of a lion, a dream

18

18  Elizabeth Carney that is interpreted to mean that Olympias is pregnant with a lion-​like son.16 Next Plutarch17 asserts that Philip stopped having sex with Olympias, or at least having sex with her often, because he peeked in and saw a snake sleeping beside her. Supposedly he concluded that this meant either that she might work magic on him or that she was sleeping with a greater being.18 Plutarch follows his story of scary royal sex with a description of Olympias’ enthusiasm for and patronage of festivals for women that were wild (and snakey) and frightened men. Plutarch does not tell us directly how Philip felt about this group religious experience Olympias sponsored, but his narrative connects the two stories. He comments, after the account of Philip’s sexual reluctance but before Plutarch describes the festival, that there is another story about these things –​Olympias and snakes presumably –​,19 so Philip’s reaction to the festival was probably negative. Plutarch20 next reveals that Philip had consulted the Delphic oracle after his prophetic dream, and that the oracle told him to sacrifice to and especially venerate the god Ammon, even though it warned that he would soon lose the eye he would have used to peep at Olympias sleeping with the snake. Citing Eratosthenes,21 Plutarch tells another tale, that before Alexander’s departure, Olympias confided in Alexander the secret of his origin and ordered him to be concerned with things worthy of his birth. Plutarch comments, however, that others say that she herself rejected this notion (of the divinity of Alexander’s father) and, if jokingly, implied that it was actually Alexander’s own idea. A long section follows in which Alexander demonstrates his precociousness and potential, sometimes in a kind of competition with his father.22 After recounting these stories of Alexander’s early promise, Plutarch then turns to the trouble developing between Alexander and Philip, trouble that involved Olympias. Plutarch23 faults Philip’s polygyny since he asserts that his marriages and affairs caused trouble in the royal household as well as accusations and major disagreements between father and son, but Plutarch also specifically blames Olympias. He describes her as difficult and ready to anger and notes that she encouraged her son to quarrel with his father. Plutarch’s diction implies that these two factors –​Philip’s many marriages and Olympias’ character –​were an issue even before Philip’s supposed love match with Cleopatra. He then goes on to describe the famous quarrel between father and son at a drinking party, during which the Philip’s new bride’s guardian, Attalus, encouraged the Macedonians to ask the gods for a legitimate heir born from Philip and Cleopatra. According to Plutarch, when Alexander threw a cup at Attalus in response to this apparent questioning of his legitimacy, Philip drew a sword on his own son, but was too drunk to do more. Alexander mocked him and then left, taking Olympias with him. Whereas in the Alexander, Olympias is simply taken along when her son quarrels with his father –​the quarrel he describes is between father and son –​in the Moralia,24 clearly in reference to this same episode, Plutarch twice says that Philip was having differences with his wife and son. In both works,25 Plutarch says that

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An exceptional Argead couple 19 Demaratus, Philip’s Corinthian guest-​friend, tells the king that Philip has caused discord and evils in his own household and so persuades Philip to a reconciliation; in the Moralia it is clear that this reconciliation involves Olympias as well as Alexander.26 Thus, Plutarch has to some degree pictured Philip and Olympias as a quarrelling couple and yet begun to link Olympias to her son rather than to his father. Plutarch alone27 recounts an incident –​the Pixodarus affair –​that he places after the public reconciliation (though it may have, in fact, happened before the reconciliation, while Alexander and Olympias were in exile),28 which pictures continuing strife between Philip and Alexander, strife that Olympias, though not alone, helped create. According to Plutarch, Alexander tried to replace his half-​brother Arrhidaeus as the groom in a marriage alliance Philip was negotiating with Pixodarus, satrap of Caria. Plutarch reveals that Olympias and Alexander’s friends had tried to convince him that the proposed marriage signified that Arrhidaeus was going to be Philip’s successor. When Philip discovered Alexander’s activities, he chastised his son and exiled Alexander’s friends. When Philip is assassinated, Plutarch29 seems to endorse the notion that Olympias egged the assassin on –​the implication is because of Philip’s actions at the drinking party  –​and notes that some blame Alexander too, though he adds that Alexander was angry with Olympias for her bad treatment of Philip’s wife Cleopatra.30 For the rest of the Life, Olympias recurs as a bad character, but one with whom Alexander is in frequent touch, and sometimes allows to act on her own. Thus the moment in which Philip and Olympias cease to be a couple, at least as far as Plutarch’s narrative goes, marks the regular appearance of a new couple:  the son Alexander and the mother Olympias begin to appear in his narrative until (and even after) Alexander’s death.31 Whereas Plutarch’s discussion of the married couple of Philip II and Olympias puts part, at least, of the blame for the collapse of their partnership on Philip and in effect, polygamy, though Olympias’ bad character is also a major focus of his criticism, Justin knows nothing of royal polygamy and Philip’s other wives. Justin’s narrative begins with a monogamous couple, Philip and Olympias, and he thinks that Philip divorced Olympias for adultery.32 Justin portrays Philip’s former male lover as his assassin, but, much more directly and enthusiastically than Plutarch, Justin endorses the idea that Olympias was behind the assassination of Philip and also that Alexander was complicit in the crime. Justin’s Olympias arranges the murder because she had been repudiated and Cleopatra, the new wife, preferred over her, and in Justin Alexander joins the plot because he fears that his succession is in jeopardy.33 Justin’s Olympias not only, along with her son, urged the assassin on but also tried to help him get away and wreathed the supposedly crucified assassin with a golden wreath and later secretly had him cremated over her husband’s tomb, and then had a tomb of his own constructed for the assassin. Later she killed Cleopatra’s child and forced her to hang herself, consecrated

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20  Elizabeth Carney the assassin’s sword to Apollo, and generally claimed responsibility for her husband’s death in a public way.34 Justin’s narrative centres on a failed couple, a monogamous pair, destroyed by the wife’s infidelity and her involvement and that of her son in the murder of Philip. Justin actually blames the quarrel with Cleopatra’s guardian on Alexander’s fears about his succession rather than implying, as Plutarch does, that the quarrel itself generated those fears. Whereas Plutarch’s exceptional couple is exceptional in good part because they are the parents of Alexander, the parenthood of Justin’s couple is largely irrelevant –​his Olympias seems, for instance, unconcerned about Alexander’s succession  –​and instead his is a tale of a royal couple destroyed by adultery, in effect, by a bad and unfaithful woman. Elsewhere in extant sources, indeed elsewhere in Plutarch, direct and indirect indications exist that Philip and Olympias sometimes functioned as a couple, or at least in concert, and not necessarily only as the parents of Alexander. Perhaps more important, these passages suggest that they were understood by contemporaries as part of a couple. In his Demetrius,35 Plutarch mentions that the Athenians, while at war with Philip, having seized some of Philip’s letters, opened all of them except those from Olympias, acting out of Philanthropia. Thus, Plutarch implies that the correspondence between the married pair was an intimate one. Indeed, in the Moralia,36 presumably massaging the same source as in the earlier passage, Plutarch says that the Athenians did not break the seal of private letter from the absent husband to an “affectionate” wife. Aeschines37 refers to shopping done for Olympias in Athens, arranged by the agents of her husband, perhaps as a cover for spying. Apparently, Philip and Olympias both had a role in Alexander’s education –​a relative of hers was chosen early on as Alexander’s tutor and mentor  –​38 and supposedly both Philip and Olympias worried about their son’s sexual education and employed a hetaera to have sex with him.39 Other evidence indicates that Olympias was Philip’s most prestigious wife, but does not conceptualise them as a couple. The attention Philip paid Olympias’ brother Alexander –​he put her brother on the Molossian throne in place of her uncle –​suggests that she was Philip’s most important wife. The narratives of Justin and Diodorus40 also indicate that she was publicly his most important wife, that he was confirming their shared roles in the public face of Macedonian monarchy. The Philippeum, as we have noted, contained images of Philip himself (in the centre), his parents Amyntas and Eurydice to his left, and on Philip’s right, Alexander and Olympias.41 This monument was primarily dynastic (we should note that while Amyntas and Eurydice appear side by side, Philip and Olympias do not). Still, Olympias was there and none of the other wives were. If those who believe that Tomb II at Vergina is the tomb of Philip II are correct, and the 14 or so ivory heads from a chryselephantine couch in the main chamber of Tomb II were intended to represent members of Philip’s court, then Olympias might once again have been depicted not as part of a royal pair but as a member of a wider group. If, however, the

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An exceptional Argead couple 21 surviving heads came from a hunting scene depicted on the couch, then this is less likely to be true.42 Alexander, of course, remained a popular subject for art and literature to the end of the ancient period and past. In the Roman era, Philip tended to fade from view and Olympias became more and more prominent, the mother-​ son pairing replacing the wife-​husband one. Alexander began this process by his belief that he was the son of Zeus-​Ammon, an idea that caused him political problems and also helped shape the Alexander Romance in which Alexander and Olympias are close, and in which Olympias is more prominent than Philip and the much more sympathetic figure of the two.43 While neither the St. Petersburg (also known as the Gonzaga) cameo nor the Vienna one  –​both depicting jugate heads of a male and female  –​likely represent Alexander and Olympias, it is interesting that they have often been assumed to do so.44 Two sets of third-​century C E medallions, one group from Aboukir (of 20 gold medallions) and one (of three gold medallions) from Tarsus, show Alexander, members of the Severan family, and Olympias and Philip. The images of Philip and Olympias, however, do not appear in the same sets, at least as they were discovered:  six versions of Olympias’s image (with slight variations) appear in the group originally found at Aboukir, and only one of Philip is part of the group from Tarsus. It is, however, possible that the medallions were originally produced at the same time and in the same place.45 Even though all the medallions had a common origin, Philip and Olympias were not portrayed as a couple, either in the same image or on the obverse and reverse of the same medallion, but rather as part of the broader series. The third-​century creators of the medallions did not conceive of them as a couple. The Alexander Romance became increasingly popular and influential. In the Greek version of the Romance, Philip and Olympias are an unhappy pair, though in this case, Philip rather than Olympias is the main source of the trouble; certainly, Olympias is a kind of heroin and Philip something of a villain, if a pathetic one. The only ancient image that portrays Philip and Olympias as a couple, if an unhappy one, is a fourth-​century mosaic from a villa in Baalbek. The villa’s floor displayed a number of scenes from the Alexander Romance, but one scene depicted (in the upper left), Olympias (so labelled), with the famous snake/​Egyptian magician and ex-​pharaoh/​Ammon sitting on her lap, and Philip (also labelled) uneasily sitting next to Olympias but pulling away. This scene probably illustrates an episode in the Romance when the snake’s sudden appearance convinces Philip that a divine snake actually did father Alexander.46 Thus far I have suggested that Philip and Olympias, conceived of as a pair, were primarily a Roman construct, but not entirely so. One reason this is likely is that, starting with Philip’s mother, and increasingly during his own reign and the period of Alexander and the Successors, royal women began to achieve greater and greater prominence. There were a number of factors that contributed to this evolution. Philip highlighted himself, but also his family, as witness the Philippeum and the way he turned his daughter’s wedding into

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22  Elizabeth Carney an international festival. Alexander’s long absence in Asia gave increasing importance to his mother and his full sister Cleopatra; they received some of his plunder, made dedications and served as patrons, and in his absence began to assert political power and influence.47 It is difficult to demonstrate, but likely that women in the Macedonian elite, again because of the long absence of males on the Asian campaign, also began to grow in importance.48 Some of these families would, of course, soon become ruling families. Once Alexander was dead, the importance of the remaining Argead women and of that of women in important families increased. Surviving Argead women served as potential –​and in the case of Thessalonice (a daughter of Philip II and later wife of Cassander), actual –​legitimizing factors. Antipater’s daughters were as much pursued –​arguably more so –​as Philip’s three surviving daughters. Long before the Successors took royal titles, they used their wives and mothers to buttress their control. Cities got named after them; they began to get private cults. They moved around the eastern Mediterranean, playing ceremonial roles but also bringing supplies, royal friends, and maintaining the children of the family, apparently developing courts and courtiers of their own in the process, though Olympias and her daughter had already probably gone some way down this path.49 Even though most of the Successors mimicked the polygamy of the Argead kings, they tended to develop a wife who was more important, the semi-​official other partner in a royal pair. This process happened at varying rates, but it was an observable phenomenon of the late fourth and the very early third century. The appearance of a female title, basilissa, signals this developing parallelism and, in effect the rise of, at least potentially, the somewhat institutionalised royal couple. This evolution occurred, primarily, because of the Successors’ need for legitimizing devices of any sort, anything that held out potential to assist in stabilizing the succession.50 The Hellenistic ideal of the harmonious royal couple took time to develop but, once that had happened, it had a long afterlife.51 I want to turn my focus to a second exceptional couple, the very last Argead couple, and to their possible part in the evolving role of exceptional, mostly royal couples. Perhaps I should call them the first Hellenistic exceptional couple:  Philip Arrhidaeus (III) and Adea Eurydice.52 This may seem an odd notion since their entire careers appear to be and in a way were grim footnotes or rather endnotes to a royal dynasty. Yet they were, in a peculiar and distinctive way, partners, this despite the fact that they could not lay claim to the most significant part of Philip and Olympias’s partnership. They were descendants of Philip but not of Olympias, never had a child, and certainly produced no male heir. In the end, Olympias defeated them and had both killed. The parallelism of their circumstances and careers, rather than their success or longevity, distinguishes them as a royal and definitely exceptional couple. Arrhidaeus was Alexander’s half-​ brother, the son of Philip II by the Thessalian Philinna.53 At the time of Alexander’s death, Arrhidaeus was in Babylon.54 Though the generals of Alexander, his close associates, had no

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An exceptional Argead couple 23 interest in making Arrhidaeus king after his half-​brother’s death because they believed he suffered from a mental disability, thanks to an infantry officer’s ability to manipulate the sentiments of the Macedonian army and their loyalty to the Argeads, the generals had to accept Arrhidaeus as co-​king along with the posthumous child of Alexander, Alexander IV.55 At some point in the process that led to his recognition as king, Arrhidaeus took his father’s name Philip.56 Though he was thus Philip III, historians often refer to him as Philip Arrhidaeus. He and his baby co-​king were always in the control of one or more of a succession of regents.57 Adea Eurydice also came from the line of Philip II:  her warrior mother Cynnane was a daughter of Philip by his Illyrian wife, Audata.58 Philip married Cynnane to his nephew Amyntas, the son of Perdiccas III.59 Their daughter Adea was, therefore, Argead on both sides. After Philip’s murder, Alexander eliminated Amyntas, supposedly because he was plotting against Alexander.60 Cynnane remained in Macedonia and brought up her daughter as something of a soldier.61 When Cynnane heard of Alexander’s death, she decided to head east, to the Macedonian army; she hoped to marry her young daughter to Philip Arrhidaeus. When Perdiccas, the first regent, discovered that Cynnane had arrived with her daughter and these marriage plans, he and/​ or his brother had Cynnane killed. The Macedonian army, however, angered at the murder of the daughter of Philip, forced Perdiccas to have the marriage take place.62 At some point in these events, Adea assumed the name of her great-​ grandmother, Philip’s mother, Eurydice.63 Again, for clarity’s sake, scholars tend to refer to her as Adea Eurydice. Rather remarkably, Adea Eurydice, despite her youth, attempted to woo the Macedonian army away from its generals and into her control, primarily by speaking in public to the army. Though she failed in the end, she nearly toppled Antipater before her efforts were suppressed.64 Then she, her husband, and Antipater (the latest regent) returned to Greece along with the young co-​king Alexander IV and his mother.65 After the death of Antipater, when Polyperchon had become regent,66 Adea Eurydice somehow escaped his control with her husband and returned to Macedonia. There, perhaps in response to Polyperchon’s apparent alliance with Olympias,67 Adea Eurydice allied herself with Cassander and may have offered him the regency, though at times she acted as though she herself were regent.68 Before Cassander returned to Macedonia, however, Polyperchon and Olympias brought an army into Macedonia, and when Adea Eurydice and Philip Arrhidaeus led the home Macedonian army out to meet them, it went over to Olympias and the royal couple were captured and imprisoned together, though they died separately.69 Diodorus gives Adea Eurydice a dramatic death scene in which she attends to the care of her husband’s corpse, calls down vengeance on Olympias, and then kills herself in tragic style.70 Subsequently, Cassander, having killed Olympias and imprisoned her grandson, buried Philip Arrhidaeus and Adea Eurydice (and the remains of Cynnane) at Aegae, with royal splendour, having honoured them with funeral games.71

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24  Elizabeth Carney The careers of the royal pair demonstrate an extraordinary degree of parallelism: both came from a strand of the Argead dynasty not connected to and in fact hostile to the tradition of Alexander (and thus Olympias); both were chosen by the army and resisted by the Macedonian elite; both took new names when they began their public careers, ones that alluded to the more traditional part of the dynasty; both received a royal burial, at the same time and possibly together, and were commemorated by funerary games. I might add that while Olympias did not kill them in the same way or at exactly the same time, in effect they died together and thus were linked in their deaths as well as in their lives.72 It is interesting that Diodorus refers to the husband and wife as βασιλεῖς.73 He, of course, wrote nearly two centuries after these events and may well not have employed contemporary terminology. Basilissa feminises the male title basileus. Currently, the first time the female title basilissa appears is in a Samian decree74 honouring a certain Demarchus, who is referred to as a guard in basilissa Phila’s entourage.75 Phila, the daughter of Antipater, was the wife of Demetrius Poliorcetes.76 This Samian decree is usually dated to the period of Demetrius’s siege of Rhodes, to about 305,77 thus to a date soon after basileus began to be employed to refer to both Demetrius and Antigonus, something that happened in 306/​5.78 No similar literary evidence survives about the date, circumstances, or possible ceremony relating to the initiation of the female title. The philoi of father and son may have initiated this practice for Phila just as they did that of employing the male title; conceivably the female title originated in Phila’s court.79 The wives of the other Successors apparently mimicked this practice soon after their husbands, following Antigonus and Demetrius, also began to employ the male title. But where did Phila’s usage come from and what did it signify? The meaning of basilissa remains uncertain:  the title is applied to some royal wives but not all, to daughters of some kings but not all, and sometimes to women who reign or co-​reign.80 Currently, no extant inscription refers to Adea Eurydice, but is it possible that she was the first to employ the female title, perhaps invented it, and that she did so because of her unique role as the Argead wife of a king who could not himself actually rule?81 My question is merely speculative, but the marriage of Philip Arrhidaeus and Adea Eurydice was a partnership, if an odd one, that makes my hypothesis at least plausible. Certainly, Adea Eurydice’s career generally demonstrates an unconventional and assertive approach to her situation. If my guess is correct, then, presumably, Antigonus and Demetrius and Phila could have borrowed and adapted this practice, for their own somewhat different purposes. The careers of Olympias and Adea Eurydice, and to some degree that of Olympias’s daughter Cleopatra, were transitional from that played by earlier women in the Argead dynasty to the developing role of women in the various Hellenistic dynasties; royal women began to serve a legitimizing role in monarchy, particularly in Ptolemaic and Seleucid dynasties where royal pairs played a far more important role than in the Antigonid dynasty. Close kin

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An exceptional Argead couple 25 marriages like that of the last Argead couple facilitated this process. Adea Eurydice and Philip Arrhidaeus in effect legitimised each other and in that sense alone, as well as others, functioned as an exceptional couple and also as a model for subsequent royal pairings.

Abbreviations SIG3 Dittenberger W. Sylloge inscriptionum graecarum. 3rd ed. Leipzig: Hirzel. 1915–​1924. Reed. Hildesheim: Olms. 1982.

Notes 1 Roy (1998), 111–​35. 2 For instance, Justin (7.4.1) refers to “Amyntas rex” and to his son and successor Alexander, but the name of Amyntas’s mother or his son’s is not given. Inscriptions did not refer to mothers and sometimes not even to fathers. See discussions in Greenwalt (1989), 22–​28; Ogden (1999), 3–​40; and Carney (2000), 23–​27. Müller (2014), 154–​62 concludes that Macedonian royal polygamy was probably borrowed from Persian practice, perhaps in the days of Alexander I and Perdiccas II. 3 Alexander III and Philip II certainly did and Amyntas III is almost certain. Satyr. ap. Ath. 13.557b; Arr. 4.19.5; Curt. 8.24–​26; Diod 17.36.5; Plut. Alex. 77.4. 4 Carney (2000), 32–​4 and 225–​8. 5 On Eurydice’s career, see Mortensen (1992); Carney (2000), 40–​6; Carney (2006), 50–​ 2; Molina Marin (2018), 75–​90; Howe (forthcoming) and Carney (forthcoming a). 6 Just. 7.4.7. 7 Just. 7.5.5. 8 See Müller (2016), 200–​35 for a recent overview of the order and events of this period and a discussion of the identity and role of Ptolemy, Eurydice’s supposed husband. 9 On the Vergina and Palatisia inscriptions, see Saatsoglou-​Paliadeli (2000), 387–​ 403. The corpus of Plutarch (Mor. 14c) preserves another dedicatory inscription of Eurydice’s, origin unknown. The first line of the inscription has been considerably emended. See discussion and references in Carney (2000), 41, n. 14. 10 Paus. 5.17.4, 20.9-​10. Palagia (2010), 33–​42 argues, primarily because of the corruption of the text of Pausanias at 5.17.4, that the image in the Phillipeum represented not Philip’s mother but his last wife, a person called “Eurydice” by Arrian 3.6.5 (this is the sole example of using this name for Philip’s last wife). I am not persuaded by her arguments because Philip commissioned the Philippeum right after Chaeronea, before his last marriage and before he had quarrelled with Alexander (and Olympias, indirectly) and so needed to be reconciled to both mother and son, and because Philip’s last wife had not yet produced a son. Moreover, Schultz (2007), 205–​10 presents compelling arguments that it was done all at once, not completed in phases. See further discussion and reference in Carney (2015a),  61–​90. 11 Aesch. 2.26–​29. 12 Plut. Alex. 2.1. 13 Plut. Alex. 9.4. 14 Plut. Alex. 47.4.

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26  Elizabeth Carney 15 Whereas most would concur that, despite Plutarch, the marriage to Olympias was part of a political alliance (see Carney (2006), 12–​16) and Plutarch himself asserts that Roxanne’s was partly political (see recent discussion in Müller (2013), 38–​9), not all would agree with me that the marriage to Cleopatra was a political alliance (see Carney (2015b), 167–​88). 16 Plut. Alex. 2.2. 17 Plut. Alex. 2.4. 18 Plut. Alex. 2.4. 19 Plut. Alex. 2.5. 20 Plut. Alex. 3.1. 21 Plut. Alex. 3.2. 22 Plut. Alex 4.5–​7.1, 9.3. 23 Plut. Alex. 9.3. 24 Plut. Mor. 70c, 179c. 25 Plut. Alex. 9.6; Mor. 70c. 26 Plut. Mor. 179c 27 Plut. Alex. 10.1–​3. 28 Ruzicka (2010). 29 Plut. Alex.10.4. 30 Plut. Alex. 10.4. 31 Plut. Alex. 16.8, 25.4, 39.5, 39.7, 68.3, 77.1-​3, 77.5. 32 Just. 9.5.9, 7.1–​14. 33 Just. 9.7.3. 34 Just. 9.7.1-​14. 35 Plut. Dem. 22.1. 36 Plut. Mor. 799e. 37 Aesch. 3.223. 38 Plut. Alex. 5.4. 39 Ath. 10.435a. 40 Just. 8.6.7-​8, 9.6.1; Diod. 16.72.1. 41 Paus. 5.17.4, 20.9-​10. On the placement of the statues in the Phillippeum, see Schultz (2007), 205–​33. 42 Andronikos (1984), 131, conceiving of the ivory heads as portraits, suggested that one head which he believed to resemble the head he identified as “Alexander” could be a portrait of Olympias, though he admitted there was little to base this conclusion on, considering the absence of confirmed portraits of Olympias. The “Olympias” heads on the Aboukir medallions (see below) have never been conceived as portraits. Currently, however, since the scene of which the heads were once a part has come to be regarded as a hunting scene showing male members of the court (e.g. Kottaridi (2011), 83–​8) and we have no evidence that women hunted, this view is not common. 43 See Carney (2006), 112–​14 for discussion and for references. In the Alexander Romance, Olympias does have sex with Nectanebo/​Ammon, but she is deceived into this relationship and Philip is portrayed as boorish. Some variants take a different point of view, and one collection of letters (see Carney (2006), 190, n. 39 for references) does actually picture Philip and Olympias acting together to discipline their son. 44 See discussion and references in Carney (2006), 114–​17 and Figures 6.1 and 6.2. 45 See Dahmen (2008), 493–​546 and Touratsoglou (2008), 479–​92, both of whom suggest that both sets of medallions were intended as donatives to high officials,

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An exceptional Argead couple 27 not as victory prizes in games. Dahmen argues for a common origin for both sets of medallions, at Veroia, likely inspired by paintings or statue groups there, and relates their development to the reign of Alexander Severus and the games in honour of Alexander held at Veroia in this period. For the Olympias images from Aboukir, see discussions in Pandermalis (2004), 34, Figure 13 and Carney (2006), 120–​2. See Pandermalis (2004), 32 and Figure 11 for a discussion and references to the Philip image. 46 Alexander Romance 10.1. See Carney (2006), 193, n.  98 for references to the mosaic. My interpretation follows Chehab (1958), 48. 47 Carney (2000), 82–​93. 48 The career of Phila, daughter of Antipater, whose husband Demetrius did not take a royal title until 306, is suggestive of the ways in which elite women helped their families, at this point many of whom were at a distance from each other. On Phila, see Wehrli (1964), 140–​6; Carney (2000), 165–​9; Harders (2013), 43–​50; Carney (forthcoming b). 49 For overviews of these developments, see Savalli-​Lestrade (1994), 415–​32; Carney (2000), 203–​33; Savalli-​Lestrade (2003), 59–​76; Bielman Sánchez (2003), 41–​64; Carney (2011), 195–​220; Müller (2013), 31–​42. See also Mirón Pérez (1997), 215–​ 35; Kunst (2007), 24–​38; Coşkun et  al. (2016a), 17–​22; Bielman Sánchez et  al. (2016), 141–​54. 50 Carney (2000), 225–​32 discusses this development. 51 Roy (1998), 111–​35. 52 On Adea Eurydice, see Carney (2000), 132–​7 and on Philip Arrhidaeus, see Carney (2001), 63–​89 for discussion and references. 53 Satyr. ap. Ath. 13.557d. 54 Curt. 10.7.2. 55 Just. 13.1.1-​4.4; Diod. 18.2.1-​4; Curt. 10.7.3-​10.20; Arr. FGrH 156 F1.1; Heidelberg Epitome FGrH 155F 1.1–​2. 56 Curt. 10.7.7. 57 Meeus (2008), 39–​82 provides a detailed analysis of the poorly attested events immediately after the death of Alexander. Romm (2011) and Anson (2014), 1–​124 offer recent overviews of the early period of the Successors. 58 Ath. 13.557c. 59 Polyaen. 8.60.4; Arr. FGrH 156, F 9.22. 60 Just. 12.6.14; Plut. Mor. 327c. Amyntas may briefly have been king after his father Perdiccas III’s death in battle and Philip II only regent (Just. 7.5.9-​10; Satyr. ap. Ath. 13.557b), or Philip may have been recognised as king right away (Diod. 16.1.3, 2.1). Inscriptional evidence indicates that Amyntas, at some point either early or late in his life, was termed king. See Heckel (2006), 23 for references. 61 Polyaen. 8.60; Duris ap. Ath. 560f. 62 Arr. FGrH 156, F 9.22–​23. 63 Greenwalt (1999), 459–​60 rejects the idea that either the regent Perdiccas or the army chose her name. I agree, but not because I doubt that the army knew much about Philip’s mother and her role, but rather because it is difficult to imagine an assortment of soldiers coming up with the idea. Adea Eurydice’s subsequent career tends to confirm the view that she purposely chose the name of her great-​ grandmother Eurydice. 64 Arr. FGrH 156 F9.30–​33; Diod. 18.39.1-​4. Though the accounts of Arrian and Diodorus already cited differ significantly, both give Adea Eurydice a significant

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28  Elizabeth Carney role involving defiance of various generals/​regents and Antipater himself. Polyaenus (4.6.4), however, omits all mention of her. See further Carney (2000), 132–​4. 65 Diod. 18.39.7. 66 Diod. 18.48.4. 67 Diod. 18.49.4, 57.2. 68 Just. 14.5.1-​4; Diod. 19.11.1. 69 Just. 14.5.8-​10; Diod. 19.11.1-​9. 70 Diod. 19.11.5-​7. 71 Diod. 19.52.5. 72 Since the discovery of Tomb II under the Great Tumulus at Vergina, some have thought that the tomb contained the remains of Philip Arrhidaeus and Adea Eurydice, whereas others continue to believe that Philip II and one of his wives (which one varying over time) were buried in the tomb. Granted varying analysis of the age of the woman buried in the antechamber of Tomb II and apparently contradictory literary testimony, it is currently impossible to make a determination. See Carney (2016), 109–​49 for a discussion of these issues and for references to varying interpretations. 73 Diod. 19.52.5. 74 SIG3 333.6–​7. 75 Harders (2013), 47 argues that Demarchus’s importance at Antigonus’s court confirms Phila’s importance 76 On Phila, see Wehrli (1964), 140–​6; Carney (2000), 165–​9; Harders (2013), 43–​50; Carney (forthcoming b). 77 Carney (2000), 225–​8. Paschidis (2008), 387–​9 makes an unconvincing attempt to down-​date the inscription to 299, arguing that it happened after Ipsus. Granted that Paschidis does agree that the women of the other dynasties imitated this practice of Phila’s soon after, his dating makes little sense since the other Successors had little reason to imitate Antigonid practice in the immediate aftermath of the disastrous Antigonid defeat. 78 Diod. 20.53.1-​4; Plut. Dem. 18.1-​2; App. Syr. 54. 79 Harders (2016), 30 wonders whether Phila’s own court initiated the practice and Demetrius simply accepted it. 80 Harders (2013), 47 and Coşkun et al. (2016b), 19 point out that not all kings’ wives bore the title. This means that it should not be translated “queen”. See Carney (1991), 156–​61; Carney (2000), 226–​7; Savalli-​Lestrade (2015), 189, especially n. 7 and 8. 81 Exactly what was “wrong” or different about Philip Arrhidaeus and the degree to which it was a problem is unclear, but the Macedonian elite, unlike the army that chose him as king, consistently treated him as though he needed a regent, and Adea Eurydice, as we have seen, after their escape from Polyperchon’s control, seems to have functioned like or as a regent. On the nature of Arrhidaeus’s perceived problems, see Carney (2001), 74–​82. As Daniel Léon suggested to me in a recent conversation, a re-​evaluation of Arrhidaeus’s capacities is in order in the light of recent work on the body and disability (e.g. Laes (2016)).

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30  Elizabeth Carney Harders A.-​C. (2013) “Ein König und viele Königinnen? Demetrios Poliorketes und seine Ehefrauen”. In Kunst C. (ed.) Matronage. Handlungsstrategien und soziale Netzwerke von Herrscherfrauen im Altertum in diachroner Perspektive, Internationale Tagung vom 22.–​24. März 2012 in Osnabrück. Rahden:  Verlag Marie Leidorf GmbH,  43–​50. Harders A.-​ C. (2016) “The Making of a Queen  –​Seleukos Nikator and His Wives”. In Coşkun A. and McAuley A. (eds) Seleukid Royal Women:  Creation, Representation and Distortion of Hellenistic Queenship in the Seleukid Empire. Stuttgart: Steiner,  25–​38. Heckel W. (2006) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great:  Prosopography of Alexander’s Empire. Oxford/​Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell. Howe T. (forthcoming) “A Founding Mother? Eurydike I, Philip II and Macedonian Royal Mythology”. In Pownall F. and Howe T. (eds) Ancient Macedonians in the Greek and Roman Sources. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Kottaridi A. (2011). Macedonian Treasures: A Tour through the Museum of the Royal Tombs of Aigai. Athens: Karon Editions. Kunst Ch. (2007) “Frauen im hellenistischen Herrscherkult”. Klio 89, 24–​38. Laes C. (ed.) (2016) Disability in Antiquity. London/​New York: Routledge. Meeus A. (2008) “The Power Struggle of the Diadochoi in Babylon, 323 BC”. Ancient Society 38, 39–​82. Mirón Pérez M. D. (1997) “Olimpia, Euridice y el origen del culto en la Grecia hellenistica”. Florentia Iliberritana 9, 215–​35. Molina Marín A. I. (2018) “Reina y madre. Eurídice I  y la concepción clánica del poder en Macedonia”. In Antela Bernárdez B., Zaragozà Serrano C. and Guimerà Martínez A. (eds) Dolor y Placer: las mujeres en la Antigüedad. Madrid: Universidad Alcalá de Henares, 75–​90. Mortensen K. (1992) “Eurydike:  Demonic or Devoted Mother?” Ancient History Bulletin 6, 156–​71. Müller S. (2013) “Das symbolische Kapital von Argeadinnen und Frauen der Diadochen”. In Kunst Ch. (ed.) Matronage. Handlungsstrategien und soziale Netzwerke antiker Herrscherfrauen. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf GmbH, 31–​42. Müller S. (2016) Die Argeaden: Geschichte Makedoniens bis zum Zeitalter Alexanders des Grossen. Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh. Ogden D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death: The Hellenistic Dynasties. London: Duckworth/​Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Palagia O. (2010) “Philip’s Eurydike in the Philippeum at Olympia”. In Carney E. D. and Ogden D. (eds) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. New York/​Oxford: Oxford University Press, 33–​42. Pandermalis D. (2004) “The Portraits of Alexander”. In Pandermalis D. (ed.) Alexander the Great: Treasures from an Epic Era of Hellenism, New York: Alexander S. Onassis Benefit Foundation, 15–​35. Paschidis P. (2008) Between City and King:  Prosopographical Studies on the Intermediaries between the Cities of the Greek Mainland and the Aegean and the Royal Courts of the Hellenistic Period (322–​190 B. C.) Paris: De Boccard. Romm J. (2011) Ghost on the Throne: The Death of Alexander the Great and the War for Crown and Empire. New York: Knopf. Roy J. (1998) “The Masculinity of the Hellenistic King”. In Foxhall L. and Salmon J. (eds) When Men Were Men: Masculinity, Power and Identity in Classical Antiquity. London/​New York: Routledge, 111–​35.

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An exceptional Argead couple 31 Ruzicka S. (2010) “The ‘Pixodarus Affair’ Reconsidered Again”. In Carney E. D. and Ogden D. (eds) Philip II and Alexander the Great: Father and Son, Lives and Afterlives. Oxford/​New York: Oxford University Press, 3–​12. Saatsoglou-​Paliadeli C. (2000) “Queenly Appearances at Vergina-​Aegae: Old and New Epigraphic and Literary Evidence”. Athens Annals of Archaeology 3, 387–​403. Savalli-​Lestrade I. (1994) “Il ruolo pubblico delle regine ellenistiche”. In Allessandri S. (ed.) Historie:  Studie offerti dagli Allievi Giuseppe Nenci in occasione del suo settantesimo compleanno, Congedo: Gallatina LE, 415–​32. Savalli-​Lestrade, I. (2003) “La place des reines à la cour et dans le royaume à l’époque hellénistique”. In Frei-​Stolba R., Bielman A., and Bianchi O. (eds) Les femmes antiques entre sphère privée et sphère publique. Bern: Peter Lang, 59–​76. Savalli-​Lestrade I. (2015) “Les adieux à la βασίλισσα, Mise en scène et intrigue de la mort des femmes royales dans le monde hellénistique”. Chiron 45, 187–​219. Schultz P. (2007) “Leochares’ Argead Portraits in the Philippeion”. In Schultz P. and von den Hoff R. (eds) Early Hellenistic Portraiture:  Image, Style, Context. Cambridge/​New York: Cambridge University Press, 205–​33. Touratsoglou I. (2008) “Tarsos, Aboukir, etc.: Before and after. Once again”. American Journal of Numismatics 20, 479–​92. Wehrli C. (1964) “Phila fille d’Antipater et épouse de Démétrios, roi des Macédoniens”. Historia 13, 140–​6.

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2 Looking for the Seleucid couple1 Marie Widmer

Introduction The emergence of various kingdoms characterised the Hellenistic world. The rulers in charge of territories inherited by Alexander the Great developed their authority concurrently. They built alliances and strengthened them through marriages. This political practice contributed to expanding the polygamous habit of the Hellenistic kings.2 The latter seemed indeed to prefer polygamy to serial monogamy in order to avoid alienating an ally, even a former one, with the dissolution of a marriage.3 Such was the case of the strategos Lysimachus, king of Thrace. He had four known wives whom he maintained simultaneously.4 First, circa 321 in the context of Triparadeisus, he married Nicaea, the daughter of Antipater, and then, circa 312, an Odysian royal woman, possibly the daughter of Seutes III.5 Next, circa 302, he married Amastris of Heraclea Pontica, a niece of Darius III, and finally in 300/​299, Arsinoe, the daughter of Ptolemy I.6 These numerous marriages of Lysimachus reflect the evolution of the geopolitical position of the Diadoch in the last quarter of the fourth century B C E . Such frenetic polygamy of the successors of Alexander the Great subsided, without however disappearing, when the Hellenistic kingdoms were formed and dynasties installed,7 notably within the Seleucid family. The first Seleucid ruler, Seleucus I, married Apama, the daughter of an eminent Bactrian, at a wedding in Susa in 324.8 Apama would be the first Seleucid basilissa (βασίλισσα). Twenty-​five years later, the king married Stratonice, the Antigonid descendant, to countervail the political alliance of Ptolemy and Lysimachus established after Ipsos.9 The state of our documentation does not allow us to confirm the polygamy of Seleucus,10 but that of Antiochus II, the grandson of Seleucus I, is a given. The third Seleucid king married Laodice, the daughter of Achaius, whose family was well established in Asia Minor Cistauric,11 before falling in with the Lagid dynasty by marrying Berenice, the daughter of Ptolemy II, as a consequence of the Second Syrian War.12 The two wives of the king coexisted for six years, until the death of their husband.13 Another example, from the end of the third century, is that of Antiochus III. Shortly after his enthronement, he married Laodice, his cousin and a descendant of the king of Pontus.14 Thirty years later, presumably during the

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Looking for the Seleucid couple 33 lifetime of his first wife, he married again, this time a young woman from Chalcis whom he renamed Euboia.15 In this polygamous context, which can be observed for many of the first Seleucid sovereigns, the king created at the same time several duos with various wives. This begs the question whether the couple is the most obvious form to represent Hellenistic power. In other words, did Hellenistic power think of itself as a couple acting with one voice?

The voice of the Seleucid couple In the Seleucid inscriptions on which this chapter focuses, the first expression of a power couple dates from 203, almost a century after the constitution of the Seleucid kingdom. It is indeed on this date that the city of Teos honoured Antiochus III and his wife Laodice in these terms: for having granted (ἀφέντες) that the city and the territory should be sacred and inviolate and having released us (παραλύσαντες ἡμας) from the tribute and having accomplished these actions as favours (χαρισάμενοι τᾶυτα) to the people and the corporation of the Dionysiac artists, they should receive (κωμίζωνται) from everyone the honours, as much as possible.16 Eminently political actions (the granting of asylia and sacrosanctity to a territory as well as the tax exemption) were here accomplished by the two sovereigns. The latter were presented, according to the wording of the city, as a power couple acting as a unified sum of several voices.17

The voices of the Seleucid rulers: a pair or a trio before being a couple Before this example of 203, the cities perceived the voices of Seleucid rulers as distinct, although they defended the same political line. Then, in 299, the Milesians personally honoured the basilissa Apama by means of a decree specifically dedicated to her in those terms: Resolved by the council and the people, Lycus son of Apollodotus [moved]; concerning the proposal submitted to the council by Demodamas son of [Aristeides], that Apama, wife of King Seleucus, should be honoured, resolved by the council and the people:  since Queen Apama has previously displayed (παρείχετο) all goodwill and [zeal] for those Milesians who served in the army [with] King Seleucus, and now, in presence of [the] ambassadors, whom [King] Seleucus had summoned [to talk] about the construction of the temple of [Apollo] at [Didyma], she [manifested] (ἐπ[οιήσατο]) no ordinary devotion.18 Apama was first identified as the wife of the king Seleucus and then as basilissa Apama when it came to expressing her past and present actions in

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34  Marie Widmer favour of the Milesians. The queen acted on her own, as shown by the verbs παρείχετο and ἐπ[οιήσατο], declined in the third person singular. Although the individual doings of the queen explicitly supported the politics of King Seleucus, the Milesians did not express their gratitude to a power couple as a whole but primarily to the basilissa, wife to the king. In that context, the title basilissa, attributed to Apama in the recitals of the decree, shows the effectiveness of the political support she brought to the king, the basileus (βασιλεύς). It does not reveal a term for a unified sum of distinct voices but a single political entity acting in accordance with the political line defined by the Seleucid king. This means that a basileus and a basilissa did not necessarily form a power couple. The decree, voted on between 268 and 262 by the Ionian League in favour of the Seleucid rulers (namely Antiochus, Stratonice and their son Antiochus), supported, in my opinion, this hypothesis. The decisions drawn up at the end of the decree stipulated that the delegates who are present from the cities shall offer a sacrifice to all the gods and goddesses and to kings Antiochus < and Antiochus > and to queen Stratonice (τοῖς β[α]σιλεῦσιν Ἀντιóχωι καὶ τῆι βασιλὶσσηι Στρατονικηι), and shall sacrifice perfect victims; and the delegates and all the others in the city shall wear wreaths. The priests and priestesses shall open the sanctuaries and burn incense, praying that the resolutions may bring advantage to kings Antiochus and Antiochus and to queen Stratonice and to [all] those who have a share in the honours.19 For the Ionian league, two kings (βασιλεῖς) and one queen (βασίλισσα) embodied the Seleucid power. Formally, nothing distinguished between the royalties of Antiochus I  and Antiochus II. They were both named basileus Antiochos (King Antiochus). This terminology stressed that the title, by itself, did not manifest a royal ideology but allowed the legitimacy of an action performed in accordance with Seleucid policy. These two examples (the decree voted on by the Milesians and the one approved by the members of the Ionian League) aimed to prove that the Seleucid power expressed itself through distinct voices. The three embodiments, at most, of the royal authority carried self-​sufficient voices, owing to the legitimacy that gave the royal title to them, and coherent voices, owing to the sharing of a common royal title whether in the masculine or the feminine. This is how the various actors, who interacted with the Seleucid authority, perceived its expression for a century. But its understanding changed during the reign of Antiochus III. Henceforth, the Seleucid power was also perceived as the unified voice of a couple of rulers. The addition of this joined-​up voice to the apparatus of the Seleucid political expression was certainly the symptom of a change in political representation: the conceptualisation of a Seleucid power couple.

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Looking for the Seleucid couple 35

What is a couple? In order to understand this modification, it is imperative to define in the first place the couple relationship as it may have been conceived of and theorised in the Hellenistic era.20 Aristotle, in the second part of the fourth century B C E , described this relationship in the Nichomachean Ethics. He developed his consideration of the marital couple in a part of his narrative devoted to the φιλία, namely the bonds of affection that unite people to each other.21 Its definition is as follows: the mutual affection (φιλία) between husband and wife appears to be a natural instinct; since man is by nature a “coupling” (συνδυαστικὸν) creature even more than he is a political (πολιτικόν) creature, inasmuch as the household (οἰκία) is an earlier and more fundamental institution than the city (πόλεως), and the procreation of offspring a more general characteristic of the animal creation. So, whereas with the other animals the association of the sexes (ἡ κοινωνία) aims only at continuing the species, human beings cohabit not only for the sake of begetting children but also to provide the needs of life; for with the human race division of labor begins at the outset, and man and woman have different functions; thus, they supply each other’s wants, putting their special capacities (τὰ ἴδια) into the common stock (τὸ κοινὸν). Hence the mutual affection (τῇ φιλίᾳ) of man and wife seems to be one of utility and pleasure combined. It may even develop through virtue, if the partners experiment their intellectual suitableness;22 for each has its own virtue, in which they may delight. Children, too, seem to be a bond of union (σύνδεσμος), and therefore childless marriages are more easily dissolved; for children are a good possessed by both parents (άμφοῖν) in common (κοινὸν ἀγαθὸν), and common property holds people together (συνέχει).23 In this text Aristotle noted that, unlike other living beings who mate only for procreation, the human being forms a couple for life and builds a relationship. The latter exists, according to Aristotle, since man and woman combine their different skills, which makes their daily life more pleasant. The philosopher added to this functional statement that the intellectual adequacy of the partners may strengthen the relationship, just like children are an asset they both have in common. Aristotle describes this relationship as philia (φιλία), namely the mutual affection that binds the spouses for a time more or less long according to the circumstances. A century earlier, we find a comparable definition of the couple under Euripides’ reed pen. In his play Alcestis, the dramatist evoked, in two verses, the bond of affection between the protagonist and her husband. Following the death of Alcestis, who sacrifices herself to save her spouse’s life when his parents refused to do so, the choir exclaims:  “τοιαύτας εἴη μοι κῦρσαι συνδύαδος φιλίας ἀλόχου”,24 which I literally translate: “may I find such signs of affection from a partner united in the couple!”

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36  Marie Widmer These two verses give a condensed explanation of the ideal couple according to Euripides. More specifically, they reveal what he and his audience believe to be a wife’s ideal attitude within the couple. The playwright described the wife in two words: ἀλόχος συνδυάς, which literally means “the bedmate making two with”. The name implies sexual intercourse and expresses the temporary intimacy of a man and a woman in order to procreate –​this is what Aristotle explained is common to living beings. As for the adjective συνδυάς, it expresses the union of two individuals (δύο) held together (σύν). A “pair” is therefore not sufficient to describe a couple. The preposition σύν should be added to point out the intricate relationship built over the long term and which produces philia and feeds on it  –​which, according to Aristotle, is a characteristic of the human being. To sum up, these two excerpts define the couple as a union for procreation purposes of a man and a woman who constitute a duo which lasts over the long term and develop a bond of affection. Having established this definition, let me now examine the Seleucid context and highlight reasons that could explain the emergence under the reign of Antiochus III, of the expression of political power in the form of a couple (synduo, σύνδυο) and not only in the form of a duo or a trio, as was the case until then.

Affection: a new political imagination Antiochus III became the head of the Seleucid kingdom after a troubled period. His grandfather, Antiochus II, died suddenly without his succession being clearly established.25 This situation led to troubles that spanned the entire reign of Seleucus II, the eldest son of Antiochus II. In 232, Antiochus III thus inherited a kingdom largely destabilised due to family conflicts. The main consequence of this imbalance was the loss for the Seleucids of territories fell under a more convincing authority. The priority of the young king was therefore more to control revolts than to reconquer lost territory. At this time, Antiochus III and the members of his entourage developed a political rhetoric that stressed the harmony of the royal household, in order to assert the stability of the Seleucid power, which was no longer in danger of breaking up due to family quarrels. The affection that united the members of this household (namely the royal family and its close friends) was stressed. This new political imagination appeared in a letter that Queen Laodice, the wife of Antiochus III, addresses in June 213 to the city of Sardis in gratitude for an honorary decree. The city of Sardis then recovers from the consequences of a conflict between the Seleucid king and Achaius. The latter had proclaimed himself king of Cistauric Asia Minor and had taken refuge within the walls of the city.26 Sardis, back in the Seleucid bosom, then voted honours for the king, the queen and their children. The Greek text states: “τῶι τ[ε] | βασιλεῖ καὶ τῆι βασιλίσσηι καὶ τοῖς τέκνοις αὐτῶν”.27 In her answer, the queen thanks Sardis and restates the honours that have been decreed. She

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Looking for the Seleucid couple 37 mentions a sacrifice offered to the poliad divinity of Sardis, Zeus Genethlios, namely the Zeus protector of the family, for the salvation of the king, the queen and their children. The Greek text states: “ὑπὲρ τῆς […] βασιλέως Ἀντιόχου καὶ τῆς ἡμετέρας καὶ τῶν παιδίων σωτηρίας”.28 When the queen designates her children, she does not use the term tekna (τέκνα), which was used by the inhabitants of Sardis, but the term paidia (παιδία). Here she employs a loving terminology that emphasises her attachment to her children.29 Furthermore, this political rhetoric of affection is very clearly expressed in a letter that the Seleucid power spread in 193 over the whole of its territory. It prescribed cultural honours for Queen Laodice in these words: King Antiochus to Anaximbrotus, greetings. Wishing to increase the honours of our sister, Queen Laodice, and thinking that this was a most necessary task for us, since she not only lives with us (συμβιοῦν) with tender love (φιλοστόργως) and care (κηδεμονι[κῶς]), but also since she is piously disposed towards the divine, we continuously do, with tender love (μετὰ φιλοσ[τ]ο[ρ]γιας), the things which it is fitting and just that she should receive from us.30 Antiochus III invokes straightforwardly the tenderness (philostorgôs/​φιλοστό ργως), the solicitude and the piety which the queen shows towards her close relatives as reasons for the necessary establishment of honours for Laodice. He further notes that he carries out his action with fondness. The affection shared here by the royal partners supported the representation of a strong political authority determined to maintain its influence. This imaginary, developed for political purposes, used the same codes that I pointed out in Aristotle’s and Euripides’ definitions of the couple. Indeed, the new Seleucid rhetoric stressed the living together of the rulers (συμβιοῦν), which, for Aristotle, was the specificity of couples formed by human beings. It also underlined the reciprocity of the affection (philostorgôs, meta-​ philostorgias/​μετὰ φιλοσ[τ]ο[ρ]γιας), which linked Antiochus and Laodice, and that, according to Aristotle, defined the couple relationship.

Conclusion The requirement to strengthen the Seleucid authority led to the creation of a new political imagination that highlighted the mutual affection (namely the φιλία) that bound the members of the royal family. It was this imagination that created the royal couple and gave them a voice and political visibility in order to publish the inseparable nature of this ideal relationship and thus the stability of the embodied power. It modified the expression of the Seleucid power even in the naming of the rulers. Henceforth, the reigning couple presented themselves as brother and sister.31 They thus created an immutable and eternal bond between them and in this way, ensured the permanence of their power couple, which was the basis of a united and harmonious ruler’s family.

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38  Marie Widmer

Abbreviations I. Erythrai    Engelmann H. and Merkelbach R. Die Inschriften aus Erythrai und Klazomenai. Bonn: Habelt. 1972–​1973. (Inschriften griechischer Städte ausKleinasien, 1–​2). I. Oriente greco  C  anali de Rossi F. Iscrizioni dello estremo Oriente greco: un repertorio. Bonn: Habelt. 2004. (Inschriften griechischer Städte ausKleinasien, 65).

Notes 1 This work has been produced at the University of Lausanne and within the framework of the Unit of Excellence LabexMed –​Social Sciences and Humanities at the heart of multidisciplinary research for the Mediterranean, which holds the following reference: 10—​LABX—​0090. 2 Plut. Comp. Dem. Ant. 4. Ἔτι Δημήτριος μέν, οὐ κεκωλυμένον, ἀλλ‘ ἀπὸ Φιλίππου καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρου γεγονὸς ἐν ἔθει τοῖς Μακεδόνων βασιλεῦσιν, ἐγάμει γάμους πλείονας, ὥσπερ Λυσίμαχος καὶ Πτολεμαῖος, ἔσχε δὲ διὰ τιμῆς ὅσας ἔγημεν· “Further, Demetrius, in making several marriages, did not do what was prohibited, but what had been made customary for the kings of Macedonia by Philip and Alexander; he did just what Lysimachus and Ptolemy did, and held all his wives in honour”. Translation:  B. Perrin (Loeb Classical Library Edition, vol. 9). Cambridge/​ Harvard (1920). 3 Cf. Ogden (1999), XIV–​XVII on the serial-​monogamy fallacy; Müller (2009), 34 points out that in the Hellenistic period the separation between rulers should not be overestimated and equated with a formal divorce. 4 Regarding Ogden (1999), 57. 5 On the marriage with Nicaea: Lund (1992), 54; Ogden (1999), 57–​8 with references on ancient texts; and Carney (2013), 34. Müller (2009), 32 dates the marriage back to 312. On the marriage with the Odrysian royal woman:  Lund (1992), 29–​30; Müller (2009), 33. Ogden (1999), 58–​9 dates the marriage back to circa 300 or before. 6 On the marriage with Amastris: Lund (1992), 75 stresses the strategic importance of the wedding; Ogden (1999), 58; Müller (2009), 32–​3 with references on ancient texts. On the marriage with Arsinoe:  Ogden (1999), 59–​61; Müller (2009), 33–​4 with references on ancient texts, and 38 on the political purpose of the wedding. Carney (2013), 31–​48 devoted a chapter to Arsinoe as the wife of Lysimachus. 7 Carney (2011), 203. Savalli-​Lestrade (2003a), 62 n. 9 asserts, on the contrary, that the Hellenistic kings quickly gave up polygamy. 8 Arr. An. 7.4.6. 9 Plut. Dem. 31. 5–​6 ; Nep. Reg. 3. 3. According to John Malalas, Chronographia, 198 (Dind.), Seleucus I fell passionately in love with Stratonice after having noticed her beauty. The Byzantine author places this event after the death of Queen Apama. Ogden (1999), 119 and 159 n. 9 indicates that it is certainly an anachronistic explanation due to the monogamous conceptions of the Christian author. 10 However, it is interesting to note that Queen Apama was highlighted by the Seleucid power when the king planned for his second marriage (between 300 and 299). Indeed, the unique epigraphic attestation of Queen Apama, which can be

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Looking for the Seleucid couple 39 dated, goes back to the spring of 299 and the building of the Syrian Tetrapolis, in which a city was named Apamea after the queen, and dated back to circa 300. Cf. Widmer (2016), 20. 11 On the setting of the Achaius family in Asia Minor, cf. D’Agostini (2013). 12 Porph. FGrH 260 F43. P. Cair. Zen. 2 59242 is a letter from Apollonius to Zeno (12 November 12–​11 December 253). The sender mentions the up-​voyage (ὁ ἀνάπλοους) of the king’s daughter, Berenice. 13 On the contradiction of the hypothesis of the repudiation of Laodice, cf. Martinez-​ Sève (2003), 693–​700. 14 Plb. 5.43.1-​4. 15 Plb. 20.8. On the bigamy of Antiochus III, cf. Ogden (1999), 137–​8. 16 The first Teian Decree for Antiochus III and Laodice was discovered in 1963 and edited for the first time by Herrmann (1965), 35–​6. The edition and translation used here are those of Ma (1999), 308–​11. ll. 47–​50: […] ὅπως ἀφέντες τὴμ πόλιν καὶ τὴν χώραν ἱερὰν | καὶ ἂσυλον καὶ [π]αραλύσαντες ἡμᾶς τῶμ φόρων καὶ χαρισ[ά]μενοι ταῦ|τα τῶι τε δήμ̣[ω]ι καὶ τῶι κοινῶι τῶμ περὶ τὸν ∆ιόνυσον τ̣ε̣χνιτῶν πα|ρὰ πάντων τ[ὰς] τιμὰς κομίζωνται κατὰ τὸ δ̣[υνατὸν] […]. 17 As shown by the plural aorist participles that I highlighted (ἀφέντες, παραλύσαντες, χαρισάμενοι). 18 The decree discovered at Didyma during the excavations of the Didymeion is comprised of two fragments. The edition of the text evolved in part, and I chose to follow here the recent edition of F. Canali De Rossi (I. Oriente greco.394); consequently, I modified the translation of Austin (20062), 108, ll. 1–​9: Ἒδοξε τῆι βουλῆι καὶ τῶι δήμωι· Λύκος Ἀπολλοδότ[ου εἰπεν·] | περὶ ὧν προεγράψατο εἰς τὴμ βουλὴν ∆ημοδάμας Ἀρ[ιστείδου,] | ὅπως Ἀπάμη ἡ Σελεύκου τοῦ βασιλέως γυνὴ τ[ιμηθῆι,] | δεδόχθαι τῆι βουλῆι καὶ τῶι δήμωι· ἐπειδὴ Ἀπά[μη ἡ βα]|σίλισσα πρότερόν τε πολλὴν εὔνοιαν καὶ προ[θυμίαν] | παρείχετο περὶ Μιλησίων τοὺς στρατευομένου[ς σὺν | τ]ῶι βασιλεῖ Σελεύκωι καὶ νῦν παραγενομέν[ων τῶμ | π]ρεσβευτῶν, οὕς μετεπέμψατο Σέλευκος [διαλεξόμενος | π]ερὶ τῆς οἰκοδομίας τοῦ ναοῦ τοῦ ἐν ∆ιδύμ[οις,][…]. 19 The decree engraved on a fragmentary slab is known only by a squeeze. Indeed the stone has since been lost. The edition used here is that of H. Engelmann and R. Merkelbach (I. Erythrai.504). The translation is that of Austin (20062), 169 with modifications, ll. 31–​40: […] τοὺς συνέδρους τοὺ | παρόντας ἀπὸ τῶμ πόλεων [συ]ντ ελέσαι θυσίαν τοῖς θε|οῖς πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις καὶ τοῖς β[α]σιλεῦσιν Ἀντιόχωι καὶ τῆι | βασιλίσσηι Στρατονίκηι, καὶ [θῦ]σαι ἱερεῖα τέλεια καὶ στεφα|νηφορῆσαι τοὺς τε συνέδρο[υς] καὶ τοὺς ἂλλους τοὺς ἐν | τῆι πόλει πάντας· ἀνοῖξαι δ[ὲ] τοὺς ἱερεῖς καὶ τὰς ἱερείας | τὰ ἱερὰ καὶ ἐπιθύειν ἐπευχομ[έ]νους συνενεγκεῖν τὰ δεδο|γμένα τοῖς τε βασιλεῦσι Ἀ[ν]τιόχωι καὶ Ἀντιόχωι καὶ τῆι | βασιλίσσηι Στρατονίκηι καὶ [πᾶσι τ]οῖς μετέχουσι τῶν τι|μῶν· 20 The historicity of the couple and the difficulty of its definition have been described by Bologne (2016), 12–​18. 21 Arist. EN 8.1.3 1155a stresses the reciprocity of the φιλία: φύσει τ’ ἐνυπάρχειν ἔοικε πρὸς τὸ γεγεννημένον τῷ γεννήσαντι καὶ πρὸς τὸ γεννῆσαν τῷ γεννηθέντι, οὐ μόνον ἐν ἀνθρώποις ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν ὄρνισι καὶ τοῖς πλείστοις τῶν ζῴων, καὶ τοῖς ὁμοεθνέσι πρὸς ἄλληλα, καὶ μάλιστα τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ὅθεν τοὺς φιλανθρώπους ἐπαινοῦμεν. “And the affection of parent for offspring and of offspring for parent seems to be a natural instinct, not only in man but also in birds and in most animals; as also is friendship between members of the same species; and this is especially strong in the human race; for which reason, we praise those who love their fellow men”. Translation

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40  Marie Widmer of Harris Rackham (Loeb Classical Library Edition, vol. 19). On the meaning of φιλία for Aristotle, cf. Fraisse (1974), 193–​202. 22 Unlike Harris Rackham, who translates the sentence in this way: “But it may also be based on virtue, if the partners be of high moral character”, I do not perceive any opposition in the Greek text. Aristotle, in my opinion, proposes here another possibility of the development of φιλία between spouses. 23 Arist. EN 8.12.7-​8 1162a. Revised translation of Harris Rackham (Loeb Classical Library Edition, vol. 19). ἀνδρὶ δὲ καὶ γυναικὶ φιλία δοκεῖ κατὰ φύσιν ὑπάρχειν· ἄνθρωπος γὰρ τῇ φύσει συνδυαστικὸν μᾶλλον ἢ πολιτικόν, ὅσῳ πρότερον καὶ ἀναγκαιότερον οἰκία πόλεως, καὶ τεκνοποιία κοινότερον τοῖς ζῴοις. τοῖς μὲν οὖν ἄλλοις ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον ἡ κοινωνία ἐστίν, οἱ δ‘ ἄνθρωποι οὐ μόνον τῆς τεκνοποιίας χάριν συνοικοῦσιν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν εἰς τὸν βίον· εὐθὺς γὰρ διῄρηται τὰ ἔργα, καὶ ἔστιν ἕτερα ἀνδρὸς καὶ γυναικός· ἐπαρκοῦσιν οὖν ἀλλήλοις, εἰς τὸ κοινὸν τιθέντες τὰ ἴδια. διὰ ταῦτα δὲ καὶ τὸ χρήσιμον εἶναι δοκεῖ καὶ τὸ ἡδὺ ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ φιλίᾳ. εἴη δ’ ἂν καὶ δι’ ἀρετήν, εἰ ἐπιεικεῖς εἶεν· ἔστι γὰρ ἑκατέρου ἀρετή, καὶ χαίροιεν ἂν τῷ τοιούτῳ. σύνδεσμος δὲ τὰ τέκνα δοκεῖ εἶναι· διὸ θᾶττον οἱ ἄτεκνοι διαλύονται· τὰ γὰρ τέκνα κοινὸν ἀγαθὸν ἀμφοῖν, συνέχει δὲ τὸ κοινόν. 24 Eur. Alc.  472–​3. 25 On this subject, see in particular Savalli-​Lestrade (2003b), 73–​6. 26 About Achaius, his usurpation and the reaction of the Seleucid power, see Chrubasik (2016), 101–​12, 119–​20 and 216. 27 The Sardian decree is engraved on a stone discovered during the excavation of the synagogue of Sardis (1963). Queen Laodice’s letter is inscribed after the decree. The edition used here is that of Ma (1999), 285–​7. Document A, ll. 3–​4. 28 Ma (1999), 285–​7. Document B, ll. 13–​15. 29 Ma (1999), 287. 30 The letter of Antiochus is engraved on a white marble stele broken into six fragments. It was discovered in November 1884 in Durdukar, a village in the South Phrygia. The stone is now in the Louvre Museum (MA 2936). The edition and (revised) translation used here are those of Ma (1999), 354–​6, ll. 12–​21: [βασιλε]ὺς Ἀντίοχος Ἀναξιμβρότωι χαίρειν· | [βουλόμεν]οι τῆς ἀδελφῆς βασιλίσσης Λαοδίκη[ς | τὰ]ς τιμὰς ἐπὶ πλεῖον αὔξειν καὶ τοῦτο ἀναγ|[καιό]τατον ἑαυτοῖς νομίζοντες εἶναι διὰ τὸ | [μὴ μ]όνον ἡμῖν φιλοστόργως καὶ κηδεμονι|[κῶς] αὐτὴν συμβιοῦν, ἀλλὰ καὶ πρὸς τὸ θεῖ|[ον ε]ὐσεβῶς δια[κ]εῖσθαι, καὶ τὰ ἄλλα μὲν | [ὅσα πρ]έπει καὶ δίκαιόν ἐστιν παρ‘ ἡμῶν αὐτῆι | [συνα]ντᾶσθαι διατελοῦμεν μετὰ φιλοσ|[τ]ο[ρ]γίας ποιοῦντε[ς] […]. 31 Cf. in particular Queen Laodice’s letter to the Sardians. Ma (1999), 285–​ 7. Document B, ll. 13–​15: ὑπὲρ τῆς ἀδελφοῦ ἡμῶν βασιλέως Ἀντιόχου […] σωτηρίας. “For the safety of our brother, King Antiochus”. And the letter of King Antiochus prescribing honours for Laodice. Ma (1999), 354–​6, ll. 13–​14:  [βουλόμεν]οι τῆς ἀδελφῆς βασιλίσσης Λαοδίκη[ς | τὰ]ς τιμὰς ἐπὶ πλεῖον αὔξειν […]. “Wishing to increase the honours of our sister, Queen Laodice […]”.

Bibliography Austin M. M. (20062, 19811) The Hellenistic World from Alexander to the Roman Conquest. A  Selection of Ancient Sources in Translation. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press. Boulogne J.-​C. (2016) Histoire du couple. Paris: Editions Perrin.

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Looking for the Seleucid couple 41 Carney E. D. (2011) “Being Royal and Female in the Early Hellenistic Period”. In Erskine A. and Llewellyn-​ Jones L. (eds) Creating the Hellenistic World. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 195–​220. Carney E. D. (2013) Arsinoe of Egypt and Macedon. A Royal Life. Oxford:  Oxford University Press. Chrubasik B. (2016) Kings and Usurpers in the Seleukid Empire. The Men Who Would Be King. Oxford: Oxford University Press. D’Agostini M. (2013) “La strutturazione del potere seleucidico in Anatolia. Il caso di Acheo il Vecchio e Alessandro di Sardi”. Erga-​Logoi 1, 87–​106. Fraisse J.-​Cl. (1974) Philia. La notion d’amitié dans la philosophie antique. Essai sur un problème perdu et retrouvé. Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin. Herrmann P. (1965) “Antiochos der Grosse und Teos”. Anadolu 9, 29–​159. Lund H. S. (1992) Lysimachus. A Study in Early Hellenistic Kingship. London: Routledge. Ma J. (1999) Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor. Oxford:  Oxford University Press. Martinez-​Sève L. (2003) “Laodice, femme d’Antiochos II: du roman à la reconstruction”. REG 116.2, 690–​706. Müller S. (2009) Das hellenistische Königspaar in der medialen Repräsentation. Ptolemaios II und Arsinoe II. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Ogden D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death. The Hellenistic Dynasties. London: Duckworth. Savalli-​Lestrade, I. (2003a) “La place des reines à la cour et dans le royaume à l’époque hellénistique”. In Frei-​Stolba R., Bielman A., and Bianchi O. (eds) Les femmes antiques entre sphère privée et sphère publique. Bern: Peter Lang, 59–​76. Savalli-​ Lestrade, I. (2003b) “Rumeurs et silences autour de la mort des rois hellénistiques”. In Boissavit-​Camus B., Chausson F., and Inglebert H. (eds) La mort du souverain entre Antiquité et Haut Moyen Age. Paris: Editions Picard, 65–​82. Widmer M. (2016) “Apamè. Une reine au cœur de la construction d’un royaume”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG, 17–​33.

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3  A change of husband Cleopatra Thea, stability and dynamism of Hellenistic royal couples (150–​129  B C E ) Monica D’Agostini Cleopatra, named after her Seleucid grandmother, was the daughter of the Egyptian king Ptolemy VI Philometor. She is known also by the epiclesis Thea, attested in the region of Ptolemais epigraphically in the 130s and numismatically after 126/​5.1 She was active in the Seleucid basileia from 150 until her death in 121 during the reign of four kings, Alexander I Balas, Demetrius II, Antiochus VII, and Antiochus VIII, and three usurpers, Diodotus Tryphon, Seleucus V, and Alexander Zabinas. A Ptolemaic princess by birth, she entered the Seleucid dynasty marrying three of these male rulers and leaders contending for the throne at the end of the second century.2 All of the unions, that with Balas and those with the Seleucid brothers Demetrius II and Antiochus VII, sprang from the need to achieve political and military stability in the Seleucid kingdom; nevertheless, they showed diverse features relative to the power dynamics of the couple, the role of the male and female monarchs in home and foreign management of the basileia, and the promotional image of the couple. The present study takes into account Cleopatra’s marriages between 151 and 129, because after the latter date the evidence on the queen is not related to her role as royal wife, but rather to her rule or co-​ rule as queen mother. Moreover, after 129, I believe, we cannot refer anymore to a Seleucid Empire but instead to a local rule of the Seleucid dynasty, whose political, military, and economic life is deeply influenced by the civic elites of Antioch and the Tetrapolis.3

The first marriage: the odd royal couple In 150, upon marrying Alexander Balas in Ptolemais, Cleopatra entered the dynasty with a huge dowry of gold and silver from her father, the king of Egypt, Ptolemy VI Philometor. She was the first Ptolemaic princess to marry in Syria since Berenice Syra’s wedding approximately one century earlier.4 Alexander Balas claimed to be the son of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. After Demetrius I’s enthronement, the purported prince and his sister Laodice had been raised in Asia Minor by former friends of Antiochus IV. They were then mentored by Heracleides of Miletus, the philos and treasurer of the deceased king, brother of the Seleucid usurper Timarchus. Owing to Heracleides’

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A change of husband 43 foreign political connections, Balas was brought in front of the Senate and obtained clearance from Rome to challenge Demetrius I’s Seleucid rule. The usurper was granted backing to raise an army and confront Demetrius I in the Levant, where he could count on the support of Antiochus IV’s former court,5 thanks to Heracleides’ manoeuvring.6 In 150 B C E , Demetrius died in battle and Balas became king of the Seleucid kingdom, despite not being able to prevail on the battlefield. Balas then asked to marry Ptolemy’s daughter.7 The first union lasted four years and resulted in the birth of one known son, Alexander.8 Three extant sources deliver information on it. Two sources are Jewish, the first book of the Maccabees (1Maccabees) and Flavius Josephus, and the third one is Appian. The religious and political intent of the Jewish sources in relating these events is renowned,9 yet it is actually thanks to their specific interest that evidence of the marriage has been preserved.10 1Maccabees and the more detailed account of Flavius Josephus, looking favourably to Balas, mention the marriage in the chapters on Jonathan’s efforts to obtain the Maccabean leadership of the Jewish people and as much autonomy as he could. Both sources present the wedding deal as aimed to consolidate Balas’ partnership with the Egyptian kingdom after the timely death of Demetrius. The other extant source, Appian, also stresses the connection between Balas’ royal claim and the Egyptian alliance, describing the Ptolemaic marriage as a direct consequence of his seizure of the Seleucid throne.11 The peculiarity of the political understanding between the parts emerges from the Jewish textual evidence of tradition on the wedding. Ptolemy is said to have happily replied to Balas’ proposal. In his letter the Egyptian king complimented him on his “victory”, and recognised him as the heir of the Seleucids. He also requested a meeting in Ptolemais, the main city of Coelesyria,12 in order to get acquainted. Notably, the Phoenician city of Ptolemais/​Acco had a peculiar past:  it was a Phoenician city, then colonised by the Greeks in an area defined as Palestinian Syria. Acco was a relevant centre already in Alexander the Great’s time, when the city minted coins with Alexander III’s name in Greek with older Phoenician monograms. It was renamed Ptolemais by Ptolemy II, who refounded and enlarged the city, boosting its importance as a commercial centre. Around 198 BCE , it was named Antioch (in Ptolemais) by Antiochus IV, who gave prominence to the city, granting several privileges to it and empowering the Hellenised component of the community. The latter name did not actually replace the other two:  the peculiar poly-​onomastics of the city reflected the rather complex local multicultural society. It was culturally a Phoenician city, and as such, the name Acco persisted longer than any of the others as well as the worship of Oriental deities. It had a strong Egyptian social component, as it had been colonised by the Ptolemaic establishment already in the third century. It was intensively Hellenised by the Seleucids in the second century. Finally, it was influenced by the neighbouring Jewish culture, although the city opposed firmly the Hasmonean revolution.

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44  Monica D’Agostini It was in such a multicultural centre that Ptolemy offered to give his daughter in marriage to Alexander Balas. The Egyptian king escorted his daughter Cleopatra there, and the Seleucid usurper received the princess in marriage.13 1Maccabees14 stresses the royal splendour of the wedding and the great amount of gold and silver Ptolemy gave to his daughter. Balas then invited the Jewish high priest Jonathan to Ptolemais where he offered gifts to both kings and was honoured by them both.15 The presence of the two kings at the official ceremony of enthronement of the new ruling couple in Ptolemais had the intended effect of displaying a double authority:  Jonathan pledged his loyalty to both kings, not exclusively to the Seleucid ruler or the new royal couple.16 This event was rather exceptional since, according to the extant descriptions of Hellenistic royal weddings, the king-​father did not accompany his betrothed daughter to meet her new king-​husband: rather, there were philoi entrusted to escort her.17 This was likely due to both practical and formal reasons. It was an unnecessary risk for a king to travel to another king’s territory to confirm a deal that was already made, unless the treaty was not yet steady enough. It was also formally ambiguous to have two kings together in the capital of a kingdom: the presence of two competing ruling authorities potentially undermined the intended display of power pursued by means of the wedding celebrations. This was even truer if the two kings were the Seleucid and Ptolemaic rulers and they were meeting in the land their dynasties have been fighting over for almost 200 years: Coelesyria. Ptolemy VI’s active participation in the power display of his son in-​law attests the degree of involvement in the Syrian politics demanded by the Egyptian king to Balas. Noticeably, the Seleucid usurper’s most trusted adviser, Heracleides, disappears from the sources henceforth. Conversely, a certain Ammonius acquired influence as the right hand of Balas:  his Egyptian name has induced some scholars to suggest he had been forced on the Seleucid ruler by Ptolemy VI.18 According to Livy, he managed the kingdom for Alexander Balas and organised a purge among the establishment to strengthen Balas’ rule. Specifically, he put to death all of the friends of Demetrius; his widowed queen, Laodice; and his son Antigonus, while his children Demetrius and Antiochus escaped the kingdom and the purge.19 It is uncommon for Western sources to record the death of a widow queen, unless it was politically relevant: she was the last princess of Seleucid lineage; thus, Ammonius, by killing her, eliminated the direct competitor of Cleopatra Thea for the role of basilissa.20 According to the examined circumstances, the wedding might be seen as a case of a three-​party marriage: Ptolemy VI-​Cleopatra-​Alexander Balas. The new queen symbolically displaced her father’s persona, of which the people of Coelesyria and Northern Syria were powerfully reminded by the dowry and the entourage personally brought by Ptolemy VI himself to his son-​in-​law’s reign. The peculiarity of the couple was reflected in their numismatic issues. On the jugate portraits on silver tetradrachms, on bronze coins from Ptolemais,

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A change of husband 45

Figure 3.1 Silver tetradrachm (32 mm, 16.85 g, 12h) from Ptolemais/​Acco. Obverse: jugate busts right of Cleopatra, in the foreground, wearing diadem, kalathos, and veil, and Alexander Balas, wearing diadem; cornucopia behind her shoulder; in field left, A above cornucopia. Reverse: ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΑΛΕΞΑΝΔΡΟΥ ΘΕΟΠΑΤΟΡΟΣ ΕΥΕΡΓΕΤΟΥ. Zeus seated on throne left, sceptre in his left hand, holding Nike standing facing with spread wings in his outstretched right hand. NAC Auction 29 Lot 220, 11. May 2005 (cf. https://​www.acsearch.info/​search.html?id=221994). Photo courtesy of Numismatica Ars Classica, http://​www.arsclassicacoins.com/​

and on a bronze issue from Seleucia on the Tigris, the queen Cleopatra is portrayed together with her husband, but precedes him. On the silver tetradrachms from Ptolemais she wears a veil and a diadem, with divine attributes, a kalathos on her head and a cornucopia, at her side, while Balas is in the background with only a diadem (Figure  3.1).21 The bronze issues from Ptolemais also preserve Cleopatra in the position of precedence in the jugate portrait on the obverse, with only a diadem and a veil, but not a kalathos or a cornucopia. Three out of four attested reverse types show Ptolemaic allusions: the cornucopia (SC 1843), a standing eagle (SC 1845), and the Isis headdress (SC 1846). The last reverse type shows an advancing Nike (SC 1845), the same as the bronze coinage of the royal jugate portrait from Seleucia on the Tigris.22 However, Seleucia also minted bronze coins showing the jugate busts of Alexander Balas in the foreground diademed and Cleopatra visible, but behind her king, diademed and veiled, with Apollo on the reverse standing left, testing an arrow and resting his hand on a grounded bow.23 Seleucid queens had appeared on seals since Laodice III, but only the two Seleucid queens Laodice IV and Laodice V, who were also the two sisters of their king-​husbands, were portrayed on coins.24 Laodice V was shown in jugate

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46  Monica D’Agostini

Figure 3.2 Silver tetradrachm (27  mm, 15.97 g., 12h) from Seleucia on the Tigris. Obverse: Jugate busts right of Demetrius I diademed, and Laodice draped and wearing stephane. Fillet border. Reverse:  ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΔΗΜΗΤΡΙΟΥ. Tyche seated left on backless throne supported by winged tritoness, holding short sceptre in the right hand and cornucopia. Dotted border. Palm branch in outer left field and ΗΡ ligate and in outer right field Ρ retrograde. In exergue, ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ. NAC Auction 100 Lot 167, 29. May 2017 (cf. https://​www.acsearch.info/​search.html?id=3886009). Photo courtesy of Numismatica Ars Classica, http://​www.arsclassicacoins.com/​

gold, silver, and bronze coins with and of Demetrius I, Balas’ opponent to the Seleucid throne: on some jugate issues of gold staters, silver tetradrachms and bronze coins minted by Seleucia on the Tigris the queen wore a stephane, yet was almost completely covered by her husband (Figure 3.2). On the reverse of the precious metal coins there was the legend ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΔΗΜΗΤΡΙΟΥ, ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ in exergue, and a female deity seated left on a backless throne supported by a winged tritoness, holding a sceptre and cornucopia, identified with Tyche, while on the bronze issue there was a Nike standing left, crowning the royal name.25 Thea was the first Seleucid queen to be shown on coins who was not a Seleucid princess herself. Her display in jugate portraits with Alexander I Balas could have been meant to promote the new royal couple challenging the former Laodice V-​Demetrius I. However, in the new couple the Ptolemaic princess was in a position of precedence, since she occupied the foreground, and her image was emphasised by the divine attributes of a fertility deity, identified with Tyche, and accompanied by Ptolemaic references such as the standing eagle. Additionally, the new king introduced heavily into Phoenicia and Coelesyria the standard Ptolemaic type and weight for the silver coinages (concurrently with the Attic weight used for the jugate tetradrachms):  as has been noted before, these were currencies designed to pay the Ptolemaic garrisons of those regions.26

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A change of husband 47

Figure 3.3 Gold stater (18.5mm, 8.54 g, 1g) from Ptolemais/​Acco. Obverse: Diademed and veiled bust of Cleopatra Thea right, wearing stephane and single-​ pendant earring. Border of dots. Reverse: BAΣIΛIΣΣHΣ KΛEOΠATPAΣ (curving), filleted double cornucopia bound with diadem. Border of dots. CNG Auction Triton XIX Lot 2072, 6 January 2016 (cf. https://​www. cngcoins.com/​Coin.aspx?CoinID=301240). Photo courtesy of Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://​www.cngcoins.com/

In light of a recent contribution by Sheila Ager, scholars should be careful in taking the large presence of the queen on coins as certain evidence of her political influence and agency as well as of her local support and popularity.27 The great visibility of the queen on the tetradrachms and bronze issues minted by Balas points with certainty to Balas’ political intent: it shows Cleopatra’s diplomatic role as embodiment of the agreement between Alexander Balas and Ptolemy, and her prominence references the subordination of the former to the latter. However, on a special gold stater (Attic weight) from Ptolemais, Cleopatra appears alone with the queenly attributes (the veil and the stephane) plus the diadem on the obverse, and the double cornucopia, with the diadem and the legend ΒΑΣΙΛΙΣΣΗΣ ΚΛΕΟΠΑΤΡΑΣ on the reverse (Figure 3.3).28 She was certainly the first basilissa to have her name and title in genitive on coins in the Seleucid realm: this gold was likely drawn from Cleopatra’s resources and meant to pay the local mercenary guard of the basilissa herself. The gold issues in Ptolemais show on the reverse the dikeras, the double cornucopia, and the Egyptian curving style of the legend, instead of the Seleucid.29 If Balas’ jugate issues display Ptolemaic rather than Seleucid allusions in the imagery, Cleopatra’s coins resemble specifically the type of Arsinoe II’s coinage (Figure  3.4). The double cornucopia was the personal badge of Arsinoe II, and it was shown on the reverse of her veiled portrait: both appeared on the coins issued by the Ptolemaic kings until Ptolemy VIII, although the image of Arsinoe on later coinages showed features of the current Egyptian queen.30

48

48  Monica D’Agostini

Figure 3.4 Gold stater (27  mm, 27.80 g, 12h) from Ptolemais/​Acco 251–​250 B CE . Obverse: Diademed and veiled head of Arsinoe II right, with stephane. Reverse: AΡΣINOHΣ ΦΙΛΑΔΕΛΦΟΥ (curving), filleted double cornucopia bound with diadem. In field, LE -​PT ligate Border of dots. NAC Auction 66 Lot 79, 17. Oct. 2012 (cf. https://​www.acsearch.info/​search. html?id=1390199). Photo courtesy of Numismatica Ars Classica, http://​ www.arsclassicacoins.com/

Considering the blatant alterity of the gold staters compared to Balas’ issues, it can therefore be suggested that the former were an action by the basilissa herself by virtue of her Egyptian lineage, and not by her husband. In Ptolemais, the new capital of the Seleucids, Cleopatra presented herself as the representative of the Ptolemaic power, emphasising the political weight of her lineage and home dynasty in her husband’s empire. Despite Balas’ effort to legitimise his kingship through his Seleucid lineage as the son of Antiochus IV, Cleopatra and Alexander I were not showing themselves as any of the previous Seleucid ruling couples in their jugate issues either in Phoenicia or Coelesyria. The new type was more prominent in the coastal area and in the cities of the Levant, but did not penetrate the whole Empire since Seleucia on the Tigris show on the bronze coinages an ideology of power alternative to that promoted by western iconography. Noticeably the dynastic capital in the east minted a bronze jugate issue of Balas and Cleopatra with the king in the front and the queen in the back, thus delivering a visual message concurrent with the Coelesyrian one. Seleucia on the Tigris had been –​as far as it is currently known  –​the sole mint to issue the currency showing Demetrius I-​Laodice, and circulating the image of the Seleucid couple with the king in the foreground and a Nike on the left on the reverse. Ten years later the portrait of the couple Cleopatra-​Balas, with Apollo on the left on the reverse, followed closely the Demetrius I-​Laodice jugate type previously issued by the Seleucia on the Tigris, by not placing the queen in the position of prominence. Therefore, the eastern coins show the perimeter and the limits of the new numismatic type

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A change of husband 49 broadcast from Ptolemais. They could be symptoms of a resistance to the Ptolemaic Levantine presence.31 According to western iconography, as far as Phoenicia and Coelesyria were concerned, Cleopatra and Balas were not the successors of the last two ruling siblings couple of the Seleucid dynasty but the symbol of a new power in the reign, the result of the Ptolemaic involvement in the core institution of the kingdom.32 Hitherto Ptolemy Philometor’s involvement in the basileia of Thea and Balas was limited to his indirect exertion of Egyptian influence on Seleucid Coelesyria. However, Ptolemy VI’s aspirations changed when Balas’ reign was threatened by Demetrius II.33 The son of Demetrius I  came from Crete to Cilicia to claim his father’s throne in 147, and sent one of his officers to attack the Jewish allies of Alexander Balas in Coelesyria, but was defeated. Balas then organised the counteraction with the aid of his father-​in-​law.34 At this time Josephus, in a rather philo-​ Ptolemaic passage, dates an alleged conspiracy against Ptolemy organised by Balas. In 146, Ptolemy VI led an army and a navy to Syria to the assistance of his son-​in-​law. The historian emphasises the king’s popularity and reveals that all the cities received him.35 However, while visiting Ptolemais, Josephus says that Ptolemy faced a plot against him by Ammonius, the philos of the king who had previously murdered all of Demetrius I’s party in 150. The officer had been appointed in control of Northern Syria by Balas, but had to be transferred from Antioch because he had been on poor terms with the local establishment. According to the historian, Balas refusal to punish the philos, in spite of Ptolemy’s pressure, showed that he himself designed the scheme against the Egyptian king.36 The whole plot as delivered by Josephus had the scope to offer a justification for Ptolemy’s betrayal of Balas:  the Egyptian ruler is said to have shifted his support from Balas to Demetrius II owing to the former’s protection of Ammonius. The breaking of the agreement with the Seleucid king corresponded to a rupture in the ruling couple:  Ptolemy took his daughter from Balas and gave her as wife to Demetrius II. He offered an alliance to the new Seleucid pretender and agreed to restore him as king. Ptolemy thus headed towards Antioch: the city had expelled Alexander I Balas and Ammonius to Cilicia, hence welcomed the Egyptian king and offered him the throne. The author states that he was pressured by the city to put on two diadems, those of Asia and Egypt, yet argues that Ptolemy, owing to his good nature and his consideration of the Roman opinion, refused the Syrian diadem. He instead persuaded Antioch to accept Demetrius II with his new queen Cleopatra as rulers, despite the city’s unfortunate relations with Demetrius I. Ptolemy VI then exhibited his aspiration to establish, with the Roman endorsement, a direct control on Coelesyria, which had been lost to the Lagids since the beginning of the second century. The king of Egypt committed himself to be a counsellor for the new Seleucid king, almost as a guarantor of his rule over Antioch. The account then carries on describing Ptolemy’s defeat of Balas with the aid of Demetrius and his death after seeing his enemy’s head.37 As Josephus, most of the Roman sources favour Demetrius II and oppose Balas. Livy38 justifies the treason of Ptolemy VI and calls into question

50

50  Monica D’Agostini Alexander Balas’ Seleucid kinship. Posidonius is likely behind this tradition,39 which enhances the good faith of Ptolemy VI and praises him for securing the new dominion over Syria for Demetrius II.40 None of the aforementioned sources refers to Cleopatra’s involvement in this impeachment. The omission of any complicity of Cleopatra in the Ptolemaic coup in Syria is even more peculiar in Appian and Justin, who are usually keen on women’s blame.41 Both authors ignore the Egyptian role in Demetrius II’s recovery of the Seleucid throne and do not allude to the Ptolemaic betrayal nor Ptolemy taking over and then renouncing the Syrian diadem. The Ptolemaic agency in Syria is well attested in the sole local tradition, that of the Maccabees, which also appears to be the most reliable. According to the source, Ptolemy arrived in Syria with his army and naval forces pretending to have peaceful intentions, and the cities welcomed him because of his kinship with the Seleucid rulers, but as soon as he entered the cities, he actually stationed garrisons in them. Even the Jewish high priest Jonathan came to greet him with royal honours. 1Maccabees accuses Ptolemy of seizing control of all the coast south of Seleucia by the Sea, and once there, of betraying Balas, offering his daughter Cleopatra as wife to Demetrius II. The Egyptian king then was openly at war with his former in-​law: he entered the Seleucid capital, Antioch; wore both the crown of Egypt and the crown of Syria; and threw blame on Balas to justify his acquisition of his kingdom. He invented the news of the plot against himself, delivered by Western sources, in order to achieve a new deal, “a covenant” with the 14-​to 15-​year-​old Demetrius II by the means of his daughter.42 The Ptolemaic forces defeated Balas on the Oinoparas River (modern Afrin River). He fled and was killed by the Arab chief Diokles/​Zabdiel, while Ptolemy VI died of battle wounds.43 1Maccabees’ bias favours Balas, since he had granted generous privileges to the Jews. Although this could endanger the reliability of the account, a fragment of Polybius and Diodorus’ account partially confirm the 1Maccabees version. Polybius says that when Ptolemy VI died he was the king of Syria; according to Diodorus, Ptolemy decided to keep Coelesyria as part of Egypt and leave the rule of Antioch and Northern Syria to Demetrius II. Diodorus defines Northern Syria as the ancestral dominion of Seleucids, with the exception of Coelesyria, which is instead meant to be rightfully Ptolemaic. Moreover, he is the sole source who states that two local officers, Hierax and Diodotus, caused the rebellion of Antioch and Syria against Balas, murdered Ammonius, and persuaded the city to offer to Ptolemy the Syrian diadem.44 In a second fragment, the historian also describes in detail the death of Alexander I Balas, mentioning a popular oracle linked to it: the Arab chief who offered protection to the king was already the guardian of the son Alexander Balas had had by Cleopatra. While he remained the tutor of the infant, he allowed the murder of the king to be perpetrated by his philoi.45 Ptolemy VI’s agenda was from the very beginning the recovery of Coelesyria. The Ptolemaic military occupation of Coelesyria was quick and opposition-​ free as far as Seleucia by the Sea, and took explicit advantage of Demetrius II’s

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A change of husband 51 landing in Cilicia. The rupture with Alexander Balas due to Ammonius’ alleged murderous plot came at an opportune time after Ptolemy controlled all of Coelesyria and was waiting to enter Antioch: the uprising of the capital and the elimination of Ammonius and Balas’ loyalists were timely, and the Egyptian claiming of the Syrian diadem was effortless thanks to the actions of Hierax and Diodotus. Cleopatra in 146 was in Seleucia at her father’s side and not at her husband’s in Cilicia: they had likely met in Ptolemais where she was conveniently living far away from the Seleucid capital, Antioch.46 The only apparent stalemate in Ptolemy VI’s successful Syrian enterprise was his fear of a Roman intervention to curb the excessive growth of his military power. The new betrothal of Cleopatra to Demetrius II in 146 and the agreement for the division of the kingdom were the political solution to a diplomatic impasse. The new wedding was not the result of a sudden change of heart but the catalyst for a well-​planned political scheme involving local supporters and forces, which succeeded in reclaiming the Coelesyria area for the Ptolemaic crown.47 As noted by B. Chrubasik, “Alexander Balas was the first usurper to compete with a Seleukid king who was not a child”. Thus, his royal image was built to attract as much domestic and foreign support as possible and distinguish him from Demetrius I, yet it still showed the uncertainty of his political claim. He emphasised the relationship with Alexander the Great on the one hand, and his father, Antiochus IV, on the other hand: with his onomastic formula, Alexander Theos Epiphanes or Theopator (Θεὸς Επιφανής or Θεοπάτωρ), and the numismatic iconography he established his own royal image, dissociating himself from the Seleucid royal formulae and symbols employed by Demetrius I and thus from the main dynastic line of Seleucus IV.48 Noticeably, the ambiguity of Alexander Balas’ claim affected the position of his wife: farther away from the area under Egyptian influence, Ptolemais and Phoenicia, there is almost no trace of Cleopatra’s queenship or of the royal couple. Specifically, the traces of the couple outside the area of Ptolemais, the two concurrent bronze emissions from Seleucia on the Tigris, confirm the deliberate oddity of the new ruling pair.49 It thus appears that the two rulers were never perceived throughout the Empire as the successors of the former Seleucid royal couples. On the contrary, Antioch’s promptness in 146 to substitute Balas’ issues with posthumous issues of Antiochus IV Epiphanes points towards the city’s perception of the ruler as a usurper and, above all, the lack of any recognition of Cleopatra’s Seleucid queenship.50

The second marriage of Demetrius II and the absence of the royal couple The sudden death of Ptolemy VI allowed Demetrius II to rapidly establish control over Coelesyria and expel the Egyptian garrisons from the cities, forcing the soldiers to retreat to Alexandria.51 As the Ptolemaic presence in Syria was diminished, the Ptolemaic party in 145 was weakened, and the queen was relegated to a back-​seat position both

52

52  Monica D’Agostini visually and politically.52 The sole extant public reference to the royal couple is in a severely damaged inscription from Nea Paphos in Cyprus.53 It is the dedication by Demetrius Theos Nicator Philadelphus of a statue to Ptolemy VI Philometor, father of his wife: 1 [βασιλέα Πτ]ολεμαῖον θεὸ[ν Φιλομήτορα] [βασιλεὺς] Δημήτριος θεὸς [Νικάτωρ] [Φιλάδελ]φος τὸν πατέρ[α τῆς γυναικὸς (?)] [εὐνοίας] ἕνεκα τῆς εἰς ἑ[αυτόν]. King Ptolemy Theos Philometor King Demetrius Theos Nicator Philadelphus54 the father of the wife (?) for the good will towards himself. Although the integration at l.  3 was originally thought to be uncertain by Wilken,55 from 1953  “of the wife” (τῆς γυναικὸς) became the commonly accepted version thanks to Mitford.56 Muccioli in 1995 welcomed the integration and published the photo of the base, which is broken in the middle.57 L.3 was integrated with “of the wife” (τῆς γυναικὸς), rather than with other words, in order to match the length of the integrated royal titles of l. 1–​2, Nicator and Philometor. “of Cleopatra” (Κλεοπάτρας) | “of the basilissa” (βασιλίσσης) | “of the basilissa Cleopatra” (βασιλίσσης Κλεοπάτρας) are too long to pair Nicator (Νικάτωρ) and Philometor (Φιλομήτορα). As a matter of fact, although there is no certainty that the inscription called Cleopatra “wife”, it appears unlikely that Cleopatra was honoured with any title or epithet. The position and the space left to Cleopatra is of minor importance compared to that of Ptolemy VI and Demetrius II, who are granted enough room to list at least two epithets each. After her father’s death Cleopatra remained Demetrius’ wife and could still count on the Syrian philo-​Ptolemaic party, which was likely behind the dedication of the aforementioned statue and inscription. Yet, in the inscription she is introduced with no title nor epithet, in a diminished role: she appears not to be a representative of the basileia, embodied in Demetrius and Ptolemy. The inscription stresses exclusively the affinity of the two kings: oddly enough for the second-​century Seleucid kingdom, the royal ruling couple is not present here or elsewhere between 145 and 139. The dynastic political structure appears not to be in place in the years of the first reign of Demetrius II, as the queen seems to have no official function in the basileia. Conversely, the friends of the king, his entourage, are very active and present in the sources. Josephus provides a detailed account of the rebellion of one of them, Diodotus Tryphon. He was likely the former philos of Alexander Balas, who stirred up Antioch against Balas himself and entrusted the city to Ptolemy VI. After the rise to the throne of Demetrius II, he became a general of the new king, yet he took advantage of the disaffection of the Seleucid army for the new ruler to incite a new rebellion in Antioch. Noticeably, Demetrius II had been

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A change of husband 53 recognised as king by the city because of Ptolemy’s reassurance, but after the death of the Egyptian king, the position of Demetrius II in the city was all but solid.58 According to the local tradition of 1Maccabees, Demetrius was able to regain the city at first with the help of Jewish troops, which however slaughtered part of the citizenship and looted Antioch, worsening the hatred of the capital for Demetrius II.59 Consequently, the city rebelled again after Diodotus obtained the guardianship of the son of Balas and Cleopatra, now Antiochus VI, from the Arab philos entrusted with raising the child. The support of the army and the guardianship of the child allowed the general to establish his own rule in the city for four years. However, under such circumstances the son of Balas could not survive long:  Antiochus VI died in a suspicious way in Antioch,60 while Diodotus gradually expanded his control at least as far as Cleopatra Thea’s former city, Ptolemais.61 Tryphon’s cause was likely helped by the rebellion of the Jews, who in 143/​2 claimed independence under the Hasmoneian dynasty. The situation worsened when Demetrius II was captured by the Parthians during his campaign east to recover Mesopotamia. Diodotus was proclaimed king by the troops, and expanded his control beyond Antioch. Diodorus describes Diodotus at war against all of the king’s philoi: he lists the satraps and generals and mentions Cleopatra, attesting that she was with one of the king’s philoi, Aischron.62 She was living with her children from Demetrius II, Seleucus V, Antiochus VIII, and Laodice, yet not in Ptolemais, which was under Tryphon, but in Seleucia in Pieria. Josephus also confirms the presence of Cleopatra and her children in Seleucia at the time of her husband and king’s capture. He states that the Seleucid army, or part of it, betrayed Diodotus and went over to Thea and Aischron.63 The philoi are also the active protagonists of the subsequent dynastic strife. According to Josephus, they together with Cleopatra developed a new political strategy: they looked for a new ally against Tryphon, a member of the Seleucid dynasty who could be accepted as king by the army. They thus advised Cleopatra to marry Demetrius II’s younger brother, Antiochus VII. He had just arrived in Syria to reclaim the land usurped by Diodotus, and was in need of the support of Demetrius II’s friends, since most of the cities did not recognise Antiochus’ legitimate authority and did not allow him to enter. Antiochus, therefore, came to Seleucia and by marrying Cleopatra secured the city and the throne.64 Based on the numismatic evidence,65 Antiochus VII was actually admitted as king and issuing authority on the coinage only from the 139/​8, after he accepted the marriage offer from Cleopatra and the Seleucid court in Seleucia.66 After Demetrius’ brother with his new supporters prevailed over Tryphon in battle, he was acknowledged as the Seleucid king throughout the kingdom, including Antioch (year 137/​8).67 Not all of the sources on these events refer to Cleopatra, only Diodorus and Josephus, yet neither refers to her role of basilissa of the Seleucid kingdom. Having lost her headquarters in Ptolemais to Tryphon and her Ptolemaic connections, and isolated in Seleucia, Cleopatra was deprived of the political and economic support of those civic establishments of Coelesyria, which had

54

54  Monica D’Agostini previously acknowledged her as their basilissa during Balas’ and Ptolemy VI’s reigns. Under the power and control of Demetrius II and of his philoi, who were running the leftover basileia, in 148 she feared losing the backing of Seleucia. During the reign of her second husband, Cleopatra appears not to be exerting queenship anymore nor to be a member of any royal couple, but to be acting as one of the members of Demetrius’ royal close court as a royal woman. In the years of the first reign of Demetrius II, there is no extant evidence, literary or documentary, of the royal couple, nor of the nuclear royal family as the political core institution of the kingdom, as it had been since at least the reign of Antiochus III. Notably, however, when the kingdom was endangered, as Demetrius was unable to rule, Cleopatra functioned as a vessel of legitimacy for the basileia, entering her third marriage with a new role.

The third marriage and Cleopatra’s first Seleucid royal couple Antiochus VII spent the following years reasserting his authority over the Syrian and Phoenician areas. Cleopatra’s third marriage is attested as an active player in the basileia after 135 when the crisis of the Jewish state advantaged the Seleucid power, and allowed Antiochus VII to establish his rule over Judaea. Around the same time, Antiochus VII appears on coins with the e­ pithet μέγας (Megas, “Great”),68 and as such is named in an inscription from the Phoenician area of Ptolemais/​ Acco,69 returned under the control of the main Seleucid dynasty after Tryphon’s death. This is a dedicatory inscription on a marble plate to Zeus Soter from the superintendent of Phoenicia and Coelesyria dated between 134 and 129:70 1 ὑ̣π̣ὲ βασιλέως μεγάλου Ἀν̣ τ̣ι̣ό̣[χου] Σ̣ ω̣[τῆρος(?)] Εὐεργέτου Καλλινίκου τοῦ ἐγ β̣ασ̣ ιλέ[ως] [Δημητρ]ίου Σωτῆρος μεγ̣ίστου καὶ βασιλίσσης [Κλεοπά]τ[ρ]ας Θεᾶς {ε̣ ․ς} Εὐετηρία̣ ς [καὶ] τ̣ῶν̣ π̣ α̣ ι̣δίων 5․․․ε̣ ․ς τῶν πρώτων φίλων καὶ [ἀρ]χι̣γραμματεὺς τῶν δυνάμεων, ἀπολελειμμένος δὲ καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν τόπων, Διὶ Σωτῆρι. For the Great king Antiochus Soter71 Evergetes Callinicus, son of the king Demetrius Soter the Greatest, and for the Queen Cleopatra Thea Eueteria and the children, […] of the first friends and head of the chancellery of the army appointed for the district, to Zeus Soter. The inscription honours the royal family according to the Seleucid dynastic formula as standardised already by Antiochus III (Widmer): it introduces the king, followed by the queen and the children. Cleopatra appears in her dynastic function as the basilissa, after the king and before the children: she is the female representative of the basileia.72

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A change of husband 55 The couple is associated with the deities: the king is linked to Zeus, whose epithet he shares, Soter, and the queen bears the epiclesis Thea.73 Cleopatra is the earliest Seleucid queen to have an epiclesis, as she was the first one to show divine attributes on coins.74 Moreover she is also honoured as Eueteria, a divine attribute connected to prosperity and fertility. Both the employment of Thea and the use of the epiclesis might be linked to the Egyptian lineage of Cleopatra. Yet, differently from the attestation of the queen during Balas’ reign, she is mentioned in her Seleucid dynastic function, with no evident reference to her kinship with the Ptolemies. She is inserted in the dedication after her husband and his father and before her children, as a member of the Seleucid dynasty.75 The two terms Thea Eueteria are thus likely to be read as a sole epiclesis, Goddess of Abundance. As the epithet of Soter linked the king with Zeus-​ Ba’al, the main deity of the dynasty76 and of the area, Cleopatra’s epiclesis might be evidence of the association of the queen with the local cult of the Goddess of Fertility.77 The early supreme divine triad worshipped in Acco and in the Phoenician area was composed by Ba’al, an all-​mighty celestial god; Astarte, a protective goddess of fertility; and Melkart, a youthful god moving between the world of the living and of the dead.78 The name could change across the Levant according to the local subculture, but the nature and roles of these deities did not.79 In the Hellenistic age this pantheon was assimilated to Zeus, Heracles/​Dionysus, and Asteria (Heracles’ mother)/​Aphrodite/​Tyche, and as such in the second century started to appear on royal issues.80 Since the reign of Antiochus IV, the divine ruling couple of the area of Palestinian Syria became Zeus-​Aphrodite, with the seldom addition of Heracles.81 Some of the attributes of the Palestinian Aphrodite had already appeared on Cleopatra’s coins during Balas’ reign: the kalathos headdress and the cornucopia. However, it was only with the marriage with Antiochus VII that Cleopatra broke her bond with the Ptolemaic kingdom and assumed her role of Seleucid queen. She granted legitimacy to the position of Antiochus VII, bringing him the Seleucid court, Demetrius’ army and heirs; henceforth, her persona assumed a public political dimension as representative of the Seleucid dynasty. Cleopatra with Antiochus VII was integrated into the Seleucid ideology of the royal couple of basileus and basilissa, as stabilised during Antiochus III’s rule. They, potentially accompanied by their offspring, were equated with the Levantine pantheon, owing to the shared epicleses of Soteria and Fertility.82 The royal couple also appears in two inscriptions from Delos dated shortly after 129, ID 1547 and ID 1548.83 Around 130, Antiochus VII attempted to reconquer Mesopotamia from the Parthians and free his brother.84 The initial Seleucid military success led to the reconquest of Babylonia, yet was endangered by the stalling of the negotiations: Antiochus VII demanded the release of his brother, the tribute, and the authority on those lands outside the Parthian homeland, but the Parthian king Phraates II refused. Phraates II secretly freed Demetrius II, and renewed the war against Antiochus VII, who was eventually killed.

56

56  Monica D’Agostini According to Porphyry through Eusebius, Cleopatra had five children from the third marriage but only one survived to adulthood:  the first and second daughters were both named Laodice. The third child, Antiochus, died of illness, as did his sisters. The fourth child, Seleucus, had accompanied Antiochus VII in his campaign, but when his father was killed and the army was left with no commander, the prince was captured by the Parthian king, together with his half-​ sister Laodice, the queen’s daughter by Demetrius II. While Demetrius II was coming back from his Parthian detention to re-​establish himself on the throne, Cleopatra sent her youngest son by Antiochus VII away, owing to the uncertain dynastic situation: the child was sent with his tutor Craterus to Cyzicus: The fifth child, Antiochus, also called Cyzicenus, was raised by the eunuch Craterus; out of fear of Demetrius he fled and went to Cyzicus with Craterus and other servants of Antiochus. His brother had died along with his sisters, so only Antiochus was left, the youngest that was for this reason named Cyzicenus.85 Two dedicatory inscriptions carved on a marble base of statue from Delos confirm the information delivered by the literary tradition: ID 1547

ID 1548

1 Κράτερον Κρατέρου Ἀντιοχέα τὸν τροφέα Ἀντιόχου Φιλοπάτορος τοῦ ἐγ βασιλέως Μεγάλου Ἀντιόχου καὶ βασιλίσσης Κλεοπάτρας, γεγονότα δὲ καὶ τῶν πρώτων φίλων βασιλέως Ἀντι-​ 5 όχου καὶ ἀρχίατρον καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ κοιτῶνος τῆς βασιλίσσης, Σωσίστρατος Σωσιστράτου Σάμιος, τῶν πρώτων φίλων, ἀρετῆς ἕνεκα καὶ εὐνοίας καὶ φιλοστοργίας τῆς εἰς ἑαυτόν, Ἀπόλλωνι, vv Ἀρτέμιδι, vv Λητοῖ. 10 Φιλότεχνος Ἡρώδου Σάμιος ἐποίει. Craterus son of Craterus from Antioch the tutor of Antiochus Philopator son of the King Antiochus the Great and of the Queen Cleopatra, who also was one of the close friends of the king Antiochus and doctor and chamber-​man of the Queen, Sositratus son of Sosistratus from Samos, one of the close friends, for the virtue and good will and affection towards himself, (dedicated) to Apollo, Artemis, Leto Done by Philotechnus son of Herodes from Samos.

1 Ἀντίοχον Φιλοπάτορα βασιλέως Μεγάλου Ἀντιόχου υἱὸν καὶ βασιλίσσης Κλεοπάτρας Σωσίστρατος Σωσιστράτου Σάμιος, τῶν πρώτων φίλων ἀρετῆς ἕνεκα καὶ εὐνοίας 5 τῆς εἰς ἑαυτόν, Ἀπόλλωνι, Ἀρτέμιδι, Λητοῖ. Antiochus Philopator son of the King Antiochus the Great and of the Queen Cleopatra, Sosistratus son of Sosistratus from Samos one of the close friends, for the virtue and good will and affection towards himself, (dedicated) to Apollo, Artemis, Leto.

The two inscriptions are the bases of two statues of Antiochus IX and his tutor Craterus. Craterus, an intellectual from Antioch, of the Syrian

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A change of husband 57 tetrapolis, was the archiatros (doctor) and the epi tou koitonos (chamberlain) of the queen, an appointment we can see already in the Achaemenid kingdom. He had been one of the friends (ton proton philon) of Antiochus VII before the king’s death. Owing to his status, Craterus became the tutor (tropheus) of Cleopatra’s and Antiochus VII’s youngest son, the future Antiochus IX.86 Cleopatra relied on Craterus’ loyalty enough to entrust him with her youngest son, her only free and living child.87 The courtier of the queen was not a Seleucid satrap, military officer, or bureaucrat, but a member of the Antiocheian establishment. He was an intellectual from the capital, and, at least in Cyzicus, had under his authority other courtiers such as Sosistratus son of Sosistratus from Samos.88 He was the dedicator of Craterus’ statue, of its inscription, and of the second statue for Antiochus IX.89 Sosistratus was likely to be one of the “other servants” mentioned in Porphyry’s summary. Neither inscription attributes to Antiochus IX the royal title, yet his epithet, Philopator, and the dynastic formula used to introduce him evidently emphasise his lineage. His royal status was established by the announcement of his parents, introduced with their own status but with no epicleses. This is indeed the same dynastic formula employed in the inscription from Acco/​Ptolemais, yet reversed: in the former document the addressees of the honours were the two parents, presented with their titles and epicleses, and the reference to the children completed the institutional image of the basileia; in the latter inscriptions, the stress was on the son, Antiochus IX, celebrated as Philopator, while the reference to his parents perfected the royal portrayal. Noticeably, Sosistratus highlighted the personal relation of Craterus not only with the child prince he had raised but also with both his parents: he was a friend of the basileus and a chamberlain of the basilissa. Although these inscriptions are dated to the beginning of the second rule of Demetrius II, they provide a consistent image of the Seleucid basileia of Antiochus VII and Cleopatra. King and queen were paired as rulers. They managed the Seleucid Empire through their personal relation with the elites, and they together were the source of legitimacy for the heir.

Concluding remarks Of the three weddings of Cleopatra, the first was politically limited by Ptolemy’s aspirations for Coelesyria and by Alexander I Balas’ “odd-​Seleucid” kingship. The Ptolemaic prominence in the royal couple as well as Balas’ innovation in the construction of the basileia affected the development of an actual institutional pair as an image of power consistent with the previous Seleucid experience. The second wedding was initially similarly affected by the Ptolemaic plans; however, the death of her father freed Cleopatra, as well as her husband Demetrius II, from Egyptian constraints. During this marriage for the first time since at least Antiochus III in the Seleucid dynasty, we have no evidence of the royal couple as an institution of the kingdom as basileus-​ basilissa. Demetrius II deliberately kept his wife and his children from the

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58  Monica D’Agostini public sphere, renouncing the promotion of a dynastic image of his basileia, despite the actual existence of a royal progeny.90 The third royal couple was certainly functional to the legitimisation of Antiochus VII as king in his brother’s kingdom, with his children and wife. The recovery of Phoenicia and Ptolemais from Diodotus might have provided Cleopatra once again with the means to be economically and politically active. With her third wedding with Antiochus VII, Thea was finally promoted as basilissa of the Seleucid Empire, and as a member of the royal couple according to the Seleucid protocol. She had queenly attributes connected to prosperity and fertility, as well as philanthropy and beneficence; she matched her husband’s attributes; and she was dynastically introduced in relation to her children. Integrated into the Seleucid royal couple, Cleopatra was an active contributor to the shaping her own image of queenship: the enhancement of the divine attributes and the innovative explicit association with the local pantheon through the use of epithets counteracted her lack of kinship with her husband and dynastic claim. As mentioned above, the previous Seleucid queens were also members of the dynasty, and the Seleucid royal couple had gradually established itself as a sibling couple, while Cleopatra not only belonged to a foreign dynasty but also to one that had long competed with the Seleucids. The innovation in the dynastic formula was thus, I suggest, a necessary reaction to the gradual nuclearisation of the Seleucid dynasty during the second century. On a broader level, it is clear that the royal couple was not a stabilised political structure of the Seleucid basileia, yet could be considered a deliberate choice of some rulers who decided to attribute public relevance and institutional power to the dynastic and familial royal core according to geographical, cultural, and political context and convenience.

Abbreviations ID    Inscriptions de Délos. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-​ Lettres. 1926–​1972. OGIS Dittenberger W. Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae. Leipzig: Hirzel. 1903–​1905. Reed Hildesheim: Olms. 1986. SEG  Supplementum epigraphicum graecum

Notes 1 I am grateful to Sheila Ager for the valuable insight she offered on the present contribution. Inscription: Landau (1961), 118–​26; SEG 19.904; Boffo (1994), 126–​32 and below. Coins:  Houghton (1988), 85–​93. During her sole reign:  Houghton et al. (2008), 466 and n° 2258; during the joint-​rule with Antiochus VIII 470 and n° 2271. 2 In general on the queen, see: Whitehorne (1994), 149–​63 and Muccioli (2003), 105–​ 16. See also Macurdy (1932), 93–​100 and Seibert (1967), 87–​90. 3 Martinez-​Sève (2004),  21–​41. 4 See D’Agostini (2016), 35–​60.

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A change of husband 59 5 He was also supported by the Jewish leaders, since he granted to the Maccabees more power and concession than ever before, and might have received Egyptian, Cappadocian, and Pergamenian aid:  1Macc. 10.1–​50 and Jos. AJ 13.2.1-​4. See Chrubasik (2016), 165–​9. See also Eckhardt (2016), 57–​87, who explores the relation between the Jewish leaders and the Seleucids, arguing that with Balas the Hasmonean high priest was integrated into the Seleucid administration. 6 Heracleides was one of the three ambassadors sent to Rome in 169 to support the Seleucid claims on Coelesyria against Ptolemy VI. After Antiochus’ death in 162, Heracleides was exiled, while his brother Timarchus, satrap of Antiochus IV, rebelled against the new ruler, Demetrius I, but was eventually defeated. Plb. 28.1.1; 33.18.5-​14; Diod. 31.27a and 31.32a; App. Syr. 45 and 47. Chrubasik (2016) 127–​30 and 162–​3. 7 The enterprise is mentioned in Plb. 33. 18.7–​14. On the support for Balas from other Hellenistic kings, see Diod. 21.32a; Just. 35.1.6. His acknowledgement as king in Babylon in 150 is attested in AD III 149B obv. 1; rev. 10.13. On Alexander Balas and his enterprise, see Will (1982), 377–​9; Hölbl (2001), 192–​3; Grainger (2010), 330–​5 and recently Chrubasik (2016), 162–​9 on the construction of his kingship. 8 Ogden (1999), 147. 9 The events are pivotal for the establishment of a Jewish independent state. On the Maccabees, see Yarrow (2006), 86–​7 and 133–​8: “1Maccabees was composed as a justification and glorification of the Hasmonean dynasty”. It is also favourable to Rome as a successful adversary of the Greeks (Hellenistic basileiai) and friend of the Hasmoneans. See also Troiani (2008), 347–​70. On Josephus, see Primo (2009), 212–​18. 10 Primo (2009), 218–​27 argues that Josephus inserted the Jewish events and tradition in the account received by a non-​Jewish source. This source was Polybius for the reign of Demetrius I and Posidonius from 145 onwards. 11 App. Syr. 68. Appian delivers a tradition favourable towards Demetrius I  and adverse to Balas and the Ptolemies, who are said to have helped Alexander Balas against Demetrius I.  Balas would also have been supported by Attalus II of Pergamon and Ariarathes V of Cappadocia: Diod. 31.32a; App. Syr. 67; Just. 35. 1. 6. Ehling (2008), 145–​53 and Chrubasik (2016), 129–​31. 12 See Kindler (1978), 51–​5; Kasher (1990), 16–​17; 34–​7 and 91–​110; Cohen (2006), 213–​21. 13 Jos. AJ 13.7.1-​2  (80–​3) 14 1Macc. 10.51–​60. 15 Jos. AJ 13.7.1-​2. 16 On the Jews and the wedding, see Kasher (1990), 191–​2. 17 In 253/​2, Berenice Syra was escorted by her father, Ptolemy II, no farther than Pelousion; in 222/​1, Mithridates II of Pontus entrusted his daughter Laodice III to Antiochus III’s escort; in the 170s, Seleucus IV did not accompany his daughter Laodice to marry Perseus. As far as I am aware, the only exception would be the possible participation of Antiochus III at the wedding in Raphia of his daughter Cleopatra I with Ptolemy V: the delicate circumstances of this wedding could confirm that it was not customary for the kings to meet on the wedding occasion (Liv. 35.13.4). On Hellenistic wedding ceremonies, see Ager (2017), 165–​88, and forthcoming a. 18 In favour of this argument, see Ehling (2008), 155; against Chrubasik (2016),  167–​8.

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60  Monica D’Agostini 19 Liv. Per. 50.4. On Ammonius’ and the Egyptian prominence in Balas’ reign, see Ehling (2008), 154–​6; Grainger (2010), 334–​6. Against Chrubasik (2016) 166–​9. 20 Confront with the circumstances of the murder of Berenice Syra:  D’Agostini (2016),  35–​60. 21 On the reverse there is Zeus enthroned, resting on sceptre and supporting a facing Nike who holds the thunderbolt. The legend in two lines is:  ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΑΛΕΞΑΝΔΡΟΥ ΘΕΟΠΑΤΟΡΟΣ ΕΥΕΡΓΕΤΟΥ. 22 Houghton (1988), 85–​93; Houghton et al. (2008), 242–​5: Silver tetradrachms n° 1841; bronze issues from Ptolemais n° 1843–​1846; from Seleucia 1860. On the Acco coins as indicative of Ptolemaic support, see Kindler (1978), 51–​5:  the scholar highlights the return of the Ptolemaic mint mark of Acco-​Ptolemais (renamed Antioch by Antiochus IV) on the coins of Alexander Balas. See also Fleischer (1991), 76–​7 and plates 43g-​h, 44a. On the iconography of the Acco issues, see Wright (2005), 67–​82 with previous bibliography. 23 Houghton et  al. (2008), n° 1861. On the issues form Seleucia on the Tigris, Houghton et al. (2008), 248–​9. 24 Iossif et  al. (2007), 63–​88. Specifically, Laodice IV appeared on a jugate issue from Antioch on the Orontes with her son Antiochus and on an isolated jugate issue with Antiochus IV from Tripolis:  Houghton et  al. (2008), 33–​9:  n° 1368; 79: n° 1441. 25 The marriage coins from Seleucia on the Tigris were likely struck over the tetradrachms of the usurper Timarchus and issued in the first years of reign of the royal couple. It is likely that the couple got married in Seleucia after Demetrius’ defeat of Timarchus in 161 BC E . Houghton et  al. (2008), n° 1683–​1684 (gold staters); n° 1686–​1989 (silver tetradrachms); n° 1691 (bronze coins). 26 Houghton et al. (2008), 212. 27 Ager (2015), oral communication. 28 Houghton et  al. (2008), 242–​3:  n° 1840. The issues were earlier attributed to Seleucia in Pieria. 29 On the Ptolemaic style of the issue, see also Ager and Hardiman (2016), 146–​72. 30 On Arsinoe II, see Carney (2013), 120–​4 with previous bibliography. 31 The issues could be coeval or one might have substituted the other. Regardless, they were presenting two competing and alternative power images. 32 The unhelpfulness of Balas at ruling his kingdom was already noted by Will (1982), 377. 33 The information about these events is delivered by the Jewish sources in connection with the strengthening of Jonathan Maccabeus’ power in Syria, as well as by some extant passages of Western historians. The Jewish leader’s position was threatened by the appointment of Apollonius as new governor of Syria by Demetrius II, but Apollonius was defeated, his lands looted, and Jonathan reconfirmed in his role: Jos. AJ 13.7.3–​4 (67–​88). 34 1Macc. 10.74–​89; Jos. AJ 13.7.1–​4 (91–​102). 35 Jos. AJ 13.7.5 (103–​2). 36 Jos. AJ 13.7.6 (106–​8). 37 Jos. AJ 13.7.7 (109–​15). 38 Liv. Per. 52. 39 Primo (2009), 159–​75, 210–​11, and 218–​26.

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A change of husband 61 40 Conversely, they are all very unsympathetic towards Demetrius II, who is clearly presented as not likeable by the Syrian people. To this same Posidonian tradition we can ascribe Strabo (16.2.8), who states that Ptolemy Philometor defeated Alexander Balas and died from the wounds. 41 App. Syr. 67 and Just. 35.2.1–​3. Likely delivering a Seleucid perspective on the events, Appian and Justin attribute the blame to Balas, who was an impostor and defended the rightful revenge of Demetrius II, glorifying his kingship. The brief chronographic account by Porphyry through Eusebius appears to be closer to this second Seleucid tradition than to the former Posidonian philo-​Ptolemaic one. Nevertheless, the events are only briefly listed without any comment that allows moderns to ascribe the account to a specific tradition. 42 Similar point of view Sulp. Sev. Chron. 2.24. 43 1Macc. 11.1–​3. 44 Plb. 39.7.1 and Diod. 32 fr. 9c; 9d; 10.1. On the accuracy and reliability of Diodorus’ tradition, see Santi Amantini (1974), 511–​29. On the insurrection, see Ehling (2003), 300–​36. 45 Diod. 32 fr. 9d; 10.1. 46 As did her unfortunate precursor Berenice Syra. 47 On these events Hölbl (2001), 193–​4; Will (1982), 377–​9; Ehling (2008), 159–​ 64; Grainger (2010), 340–​50; Chrubasik (2016), 132–​5. Ptolemy VI was consequently included in a list of deified rulers of the Seleucid dynasty on a marble basis from Teos. He is placed after Demetrius I  Theos Soter and Demetrius II Theos Philadelphos Nicator; the naming of Cleopatra I  in the inscription is a reference to the Seleucid lineage of Ptolemy: SEG 32.1207 (OGIS 246); see Piejko (1982), 129–​31 and Mastrocinque (1984), 83–​5. The issue of tetradrachms in Ptolemais by Ptolemy VI also fits into the scenario described by 1Maccabees and Diodorus:  see Santi Amantini (1974), 511–​29. See also Lorber (2007), 105–​17. Demetrius I apparently did not issue his own coins until the death of Ptolemy VI. Moreover, Chauveau (1990), 135–​68 shows that in 145 two dates appeared on P. dem. Fouad1: year 36 of Ptolemy’s reign in Egypt and year 1, which could be interpreted as Ptolemy’s reign in Syria. 48 Chrubasik (2016), 162–​5. 49 Babylonian Astronomic Diaries do not mention the queen, but only Demetrius, AD III 144 obv. The queen was not named either in the Babylonian documents recording Alexander Balas’ kingship AD III 149B. 50 Houghton et al. (2008), 257–​60: n° 1883–​1887. 51 Jos. AJ 13.120. 52 Muccioli (2003), 105–​16. 53 SEG 6.809 = 13.585: see also SEG 32.1379; 42.1314; 45.1863; 53.1756. 54 The epiclesis Philadelphos has been interpreted as a display of Demetrius II’s brotherly love for his younger sibling Antiochus VII: see Muccioli (2013), 213–​14 for full discussion. 55 SEG 6.809 based on Peristianis (1927), 63, who did not integrate with the “wife”, but with [ρα αὐτοῦ τιμῆς]. See also Otto (1934), 130. 56 Mitford (1953), 130–​71: in part. p. 146 note 33. Cf. Piejko (1982), 129–​31. 57 Muccioli (1995), 41–​56 with bibliography, picture, and inventory number. 58 Jos. AJ 13.5.1 (131–​2); App. Syr. 68 (357). Appian, in a summary of the events, accused the (sole) child to be the son of a bastard, denouncing the impurity of his

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62  Monica D’Agostini bloodline and the invalidity of his claim to the Seleucid throne. It is rather clear that the army recognised Antiochus VI as king and was willing to follow Diodotus as long as he was the guardian of the king. See also Porph. FGrH 260 F32.16. On the Seleucid Empire between 145 and 138, with particular attention to the numismatic evidence, see Chrubasik (2016), 135–​41. On the Antioch uprising against Demetrius, see also Ehling (2003), 300–​36. 59 According to the 1Macc. 11.38–​57 after the first rebellion of the Seleucid troops, Demetrius was able to regain control of Antioch thanks to the Jewish army, who looted the city and killed part of the population. On Diodotus’ rebellion, see Ehling (2008), 164–​78 and Chrubasik (2016), 154–​61. 60 According to 1Macc. 13.31, confirmed by Antioch numismatic issue, Antiochus VI died in 143/​2: Houghton et al. (2008), 315–​33. The other sources connect the death of Antiochus VI with Demetrius II’s capture by the Parthians in 140/​39: App. Syr. 68 (357), Just. 36.1.7 in a summary and Jos. AJ 13.7.1 (218–​20). 61 Ptolemais never minted any of Demetrius II’s coins, but began issuing royal coinage in 144 for Antiochus VI: Houghton et al. (2008), n° 2023–​2026. The city then minted for Tryphon, following the Ptolemaic use of dating coins by regnal years rather than the Seleucid Era:  Houghton et  al. (2008), n° 2045–​2048. On Ptolemais, Tryphon, and Antiochus VI, see Kasher (1990), 100–​10, and Cohen (2006), 214 for the history of Ptolemais in these years. 62 The author also places Dionysius the Mede in Mesopotamia, Sarpedon, and Palamedes in Coelesyria: Diod. 33.28. 63 As noted by Chrubasik (2016), 223 many of the details can be found in the surviving accounts of other usurpers. Jos. AJ 13.7.1 (220–​1). 64 Jos. AJ 13.7.1 (222). 65 It appears that not only was Diodotus in control of the Levant and Cilicia, but also that Sidon and Tyre continued minting for Demetrius II, not acknowledging Antiochus VII’s arrival. As convincingly suggested by Chrubasik (2016), 140–​1, Sidon and Tyre, and maybe some other cities, could not have been interested in allowing Antiochus VII in, owing to their newly acquired status as sacred and inviolable from Demetrius II. 66 Antioch and Seleucia: Houghton et al. (2008), n° 2063; 2064.1–​5; 2066.1; 2067.1-​ 2; 2068.1-​2. Tyre: n° 2108. 1; 2109. 1; 2110. 1; 2115. 1. 67 After fleeing again, Typhon was eventually captured and died in Apamea, as said by several literary sources. Tryphon’s latest coinages are dated to 139/​8: Houghton et al. (2008), n° 2046 and 2048.3. The account of the Tryphon-​Antiochus war is in 1Macc. 15. 10–​37; Jos. AJ 13.223–​4. See also App. Syr. 68 (358); Strab. 14. 5. 2 and 16.2.10; Just. 36.1 and Syncellus 351.18-​19 (553). See the reconstruction of the events by Will (1982), 410–​13, Kasher (1990), 110–​12 and the recent one by Chrubasik (2016), 141, which completes the information of the literary sources with the numismatic evidence. 68 The epithet is attested on an Antiochus VII gold stater from Antioch dated 179 SE  =  134 bce, which bears the legend ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΑΝΤΙΟΧΟΥ on the obverse, and ΜΕΓΑΛΟY ΕΥΕΡΓΕΤΟΥ on the reverse: Houghton et al. (1988), 401–​11 (404 n.  6), and Houghton et  al. (2008), 354 and 396–​7 (n° 2134). The title could be related to the king’s victories in Judaea rather than to his later Parthian campaign, as suggested by Boffo (1994), 126–​32 and recalled by Ehling (2008), 196–​7 and Muccioli (2013), 402. Contra Houghton et al. (2008), 352. The Jews were given autonomy on religious matters and no garrison was imposed on them, but they

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A change of husband 63 had to pay tribute and provide troops and hostages. Antiochus’ tolerance towards the Jewish religion and benevolence towards the people granted him the gratitude of the Jews and the epithet Eusebes. Whitehorne (1994), 154–​5 and Ehling (2008), 196–​8. See also Will (1982), 411 and Chrubasik (2016), 183–​4. 69 Landau (1961), 118–​ 26; SEG 19.904; Boffo (1994), 126–​ 32 with previous bibliography. 70 Boffo (1994), 126–​32 already dated the dedication to the middle-​late years of Antiochus VII’s reign since he bears the epithet “the Great”. See also Muccioli (2013),  401–​2. 71 On the use of the epithet Soter for Antiochus VII, see Muccioli (2013), 166–​7. 72 Likely those she had from Antiochus VII:  the two Laodices, Antiochus IX, Seleucus, and Antiochus. See Ehling (1996), 31–​7; See also Ogden (1999), 147–​52. 73 Josephus (AJ 13.222 and 13.271) also refers to Antiochus VII as Soter, owing, according to Muccioli (2013), 167, to his benevolence towards the Jews. On the notion of “Soter”and the Hellenistic kingship, see Chaniotis (2003), 431–​45 and Muccioli (2016), 199–​222. 74 Muccioli (2003), 105–​16; Muccioli (2013), 122. 75 Her title could be understood as reference to her husband(s) titles. If interpreted as two separate epithets, Thea could be connected to Demetrius II’s epithet Theos, and Eueteria to Antiochus VII’s Euergetes: the queen’s names would thus celebrate the queen’s devotion to her husband’s ruling models. We know that at least the youngest of their sons is also the sole Seleucid king to bear an epiclesis before coming to the throne, Philopator, in a very Ptolemaic custom. It has been suggested this was a way to protect him from his uncle after his father’s death. See Muccioli (2013), 228. 76 The line of descent from Antiochus IV Epiphanes adopted Zeus as the main dynastic god, differently from the line of Philopator that utilised Apollo, as it had been done since Seleucus I: Wright (2005), 67–​82 77 As also the cornucopia shown on her later tetradrachms might suggest: Houghton at al. (2008), 465–​7: n° 2258. 78 After Antiochus IV’s political intervention in the city, it became the most Hellenistic city in Gaza: Lifshitz (1963), 75–​81; Kindler (1978), 51–​5; Cohen (2006), 213–​21. 79 See Seyrig (1960), 233–​52 (248–​9) and Seyrig (1962), 193–​207. The Aramean Hadad was identified with Phoenician Ba’al and as such also was worshipped in Ptolemais/​ Acco. Hadad and Atargatis were also mentioned by name in Greek inscriptions by the second century BC. These cults were suppressed after the Hasomenean dynasty took full control of Acco, during the war between Antiochus VIII Grypus and Antiochus IX Cizycenus. See also Kasher (1990), 34–​7. 80 Wright (2005), 67–​82 in his pivotal study on Seleucid royal cults notices that “the Zeus and Tyche types employed on royal issues display syncretistic Greco-​Oriental deities whose origins may have dated back to pre-​Hellenistic times, but whose imagery under the Seleucids was, on the whole, grafted upon the recently arrived Hellenic gods”. The identifications with Hellenic gods were not as strict:  Ba’al Hadad could be associated with Zeus as well as Cronus; Astarte/​Atargatis/​Tyche with Asteria, Aphrodite, and Artemis; Melkart with Heracles, Dionysus, Hermes, Nabu, and Adonis. The triad represented the fundamental elements to survival in both the political and the physical realities of Hellenistic Syria. Atargatis/​ Tyche = soil and Zeus = rain, together create life, the son was the promise of a new life. According to Wright (2005), 67–​82 (82), “the images placed on the coins

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64  Monica D’Agostini were integrally linked to the religious and political situation in which they were minted […] the numismatic evidence suggests that the kings incorporated themselves within the existing indigenous (Levantine) cult and thereby stressed their divine right to rule”. Cohen (2006), 214–​15 states the importance in the city of the cult of Zeus and Tyche //​Hadad and Atargatis in the Hellenistic time among the population of the region, arguing for the worship of Oriental gods by the Hellenised community. 81 Wright (2005), 67–​82 argues that since Antiochus IV, the dynastic reverse type of Apollo was challenged by Greco-​Oriental deities. In particular Zeus was already associated with Baal-​Hadad, and Tyche was “likewise adaptable and absorbed within the cult of Atargatis”. The author emphasises that Antiochus IV pretended to take the goddess Artemis as his wife at Hierapolis; during the preparation of the banquet, he removed the vessels from the temple, and after the meal he took them as a dowry, but for one ring, which he left of all the offerings to the goddess: Granius Licinianus 28.5. 82 The association of Cleopatra Thea with a fertility goddess such as Aphrodite might be suggested by an inscription from Salamis of Cyprus now unreadable:  SEG 18.577 and Mitford (1937), 28–​37 n° 10:〚Ἕλενον, τὸν συνγενῆ καὶ τροφέα τοῦ〛|〚βασιλέως καὶ στρατηγὸν καὶ ναύαρχον〛|〚καὶ ἀρχιερέα τῆς νήσου καὶ ἱερέα διὰ βίου〛|〚βασιλίσσης Κλεοπάτρας θεᾶς Ἀφροδίτης〛|〚Εὐεργετίδος, Σίμαλος γυμνασιαρχῶν.〛The inscription on a large pedestal of dark grey marble is in honour of Helenus, the strategos and navarchos of the island. Helenus was appointed strategos by Ptolemy VIII Euergetes, thus the Cleopatra Thea Aphrodite cited in the inscription is usually identified with Cleopatra II or III. Cfr. OGIS 159. However, Houghton et al. (2008), 465–​7 do not exclude that the basilissa could be Cleopatra Thea, due to the political unsteadiness of the Ptolemaic and Seleucid kingdoms between 130 the end of the century. 83 OGIS 255 and 256. 84 Justin 38.10.2–​10. In the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries, Antiochus is recorded king in 129, confirming Justin’s account of the campaign: Del Monte (1997), 247. On the last events of Antiochus VII’s kingdom and the beginning of Demetrius II’s second reign, see Ehling (2008), 194–​206; Will (1982), 413–​16 and 432–​4; Whitehorne (1994), 156–​8; Grainger (2010), 369–​85. Antiochus VII is very positively described as ruler by Diodorus, both for his policy towards the Jews (34.5.1), and for his campaign in Parthia (34.5.15–​19). Diodorus describes also the mourning for the king in Antioch: Santi Amantini (1974), 511–​29. Josephus AJ 13.8.2–​4 (242–​53) had been very generous telling of the Jewish enterprise of Antiochus, yet he does not yield many details on the king’s Parthian expedition:  the historian’s positive tradition towards Antiochus Sidetes is ascribed by Primo (2009), 218–​26 to Posidonius. Justin 38.9.4–​10.11 is very detailed in the account of the Parthian campaign differently from the Posidonian sources: he provides specific information on the local politics, on Phraate’s plans for Syria and his scheme to undermine the Seleucid dynasty. This interest for Parthian politics suggests a source different from Posidonius, who was more focused on the events of Syria and of the Mediterranean than on Parthia and the eastern satrapies. Some of the information yielded by Justin is consistent with the brief account of the episode by Porph. FGrH 260 F32.19. 85 Porph. FGrH 260 F32.20. Appian Syr. 68 delivers similar information. Jos. AJ 13.10.1 (270–​2) also briefly says that Antiochus VII’s son had been brought up in Cyzicus.

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A change of husband 65 86 Savalli-​Lestrade (1998), 83–​4, n° 84, and 86, n° 88; Muccioli (2000), 251–​74 (268–​ 9); Muccioli (2001), 295–​318 (305–​9); Muccioli (2013), 228–​9. On intellectuals as Seleucid philoi, see also Istasse (2006), 53–​80 (66–​75); Primo (2009), 49–​51. 87 It should be noted that Craterus, an intellectual and Seleucid philos, after Antiochus  VII’s death decided to follow Cleopatra’s orders and accepted the role as guardian of Antiochus VII’s child:  this office certainly put him at risk, potentially placing him right in the middle of a power struggle between the queen Cleopatra and the king Demetrius II. 88 It should not also be surprising that Antioch could help the queen protect Antiochus VII’s son, since the city had never shown sympathy for Demetrius II: Mittag (2000), 411–​15 (on the third-​century insurrections); Ehling (2003), 300–​ 36; Martinez-​Sève (2004), 21–​41. Appian’s brief mention of the episode (Syr. 68)  states that Cleopatra had sent not just Antiochus IX to Cyzicus but also Antiochus VIII, son of Demetrius II, to Athens. Probably the information is to refer to different chronological moments; nevertheless, it is consistent with the other evidence in presenting the queen and Antiochus VII’s dynasty surrounded by a network of national and international connections. 89 OGIS 255; ID 1548. 90 For a similar case with Cleopatra Tryphaina, see Ager (forthcoming b).

Bibliography Ager S. (2015) “Dynastic Images: Queen’s Power or King’s Will?”. Oral communication at the conference “Building a New World Order? Hellenistic Monarchies in the Mediterranean World”. 24–​25 April 2015. Pennsylvania State University: State College, PA. Ager S. (2017) “Symbol and Ceremony:  Royal Weddings in the Hellenistic Age”. In Erskine A., Llewellyn-​Jones L., and Wallace S. (eds) The Hellenistic Court. Monarchic Power and Elite Society from Alexander to Cleopatra. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 165–​88. Ager S. (forthcoming a) “ ‘He shall give him the daughter of women…’ Ptolemaic Queens in the Seleukid House”. In Oetjen R. and Ryan F. (eds), Seleukeia: Studies in Seleucid History, Archaeology and Numismatics in Honor of GetzelM. Cohen.Berlin: De Gruyter. Ager S. (forthcoming b) “Despised and Reviled: The Infamy of Cleopatra Tryphaina”. In Faber R. (ed.) Celebrity, Fame and Infamy in the Hellenistic World. Toronto: University of Toronto. Ager S. and Hardiman C. (2016) “Female Seleukid Portraits:  Where Are They?”. In Coskun A. and McAuley A. (eds) Seleukid Royal Women. Stuttgart:  Steiner, 146–​72. Ashton S.-​A. (2003) The Last Queens of Egypt. London: Pearson Education. Bartels J. (2016) “The King’s Daughters:  Justin’s Story”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds), Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Bern: Peter Lang, 61–​80. Bielman Sánchez A. and Lenzo G. (2015) Inventer le pouvoir féminin: Cléopâtre I et Cléopâtre II, reines d’Egypte au IIe s. av. J.-​C. Bern: Peter Lang. Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds) (2016) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG.

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66  Monica D’Agostini Boffo L. (1994) Iscrizioni greche e latine per lo studio della Bibbia. Brescia: Paideia. Capdetrey, L. (2007) Le pouvoir séleucide:  territoire, administration, et finances d’un royaume hellénistique. Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes. Carney, E. (2013) Arsinoe of Egypt and Macedon. A  Royal Life. Oxford/​NewYork: Oxford University Press. Champion C. B. (2015) “Livy and the Greek Historians from Herodotus to Dionysius: Some Soundings and Reflections”. In Mineo B. (ed.) A Companion to Livy. Oxford/​Malden MA: Wiley Blackwell, 190–​203. Chaniotis A. (2003) “The Divinity of Hellenistic Rulers”. In Erskine A. (ed.) A Companion to the Hellenistic World. Oxford/​Malden MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 431–​45. Chauveau M. (1990) “Un été 145”. BIFAO 90, 135–​68. Chauveau M. (1991a) “Un contrat de ‘hiérodule’. Le P. dém. Fouad 2”. BIFAO 91, 119–​27. Chauveau M. (1991b) “Un été 145, Post-​scriptum”. BIFAO 91, 129–​32. Chrubasik B. (2016) Kings and Usurpers in the Seleukid Empire, The Men Who Would Be King. Oxford/​New York: Oxford University Press. Cohen G.M. (2006) The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria, the Red Sea Basin, and NorthAfrica. Berkeley/​Los Angeles/​London: University of California Press. Del Monte G. (1997) Testi della Babilonia ellenistica.Pisa/​Roma: Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici internazionali. D’Agostini M. (2016) “Representation and Agency of Royal Women in Hellenistic Dynastic Crises. The Case of Berenike and Laodike I”. In Bielman-​ Sánchez A.,Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome, IIIe s. av. J.-​C. –​Ier s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG, 35–​60. Eckhardt B. (2016) “The Seleucid Administration of Judea, the High Priesthood and the Rise of the Hasmoneans”. JAH 4, 57–​87. Ehling K. (1996) “Die Nachfolgeregelung des Antiochos VII. vor seinem Aufbruch in den Partherkrieg (131 v.Chr.)”. JNG 46, 31–​7. Ehling K. (2003) “Unruhen, Aufstände und Abfallbewegungen der Bevölkerung in Phönikien, Syrien und Kilikien unter den Seleukiden”. Historia 52, 300–​36. Ehling K. (2008) Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der späten Seleukiden (164–​63 v.  Chr.):  vom Tode des Antiochos IV.  bis zur Einrichtung der Provinz Syria unter Pompeius (Historia Einzelschriften 196). Stuttgart: Steiner. Fleischer R. (1991) Studien zur Seleukidischen Kunst I: Herrscherbildnisse. Mainz am Rhein: von Zabern. Grainger J. D. (2010) The Syrian Wars. Leiden/​Boston: Brill. Hölbl G. (2001) A History of the Ptolemaic Empire. London/​New York: Routledge. Hoover O. D. (2002) “Two Seleucid Notes. 2: Laodice IV on the Bronze Coinages of Seleucus IV and Antiochus IV”. AJN 14, 73–​87. Hoover O. D. (2007) “A Revised Chronology for the Late Seleucids at Antioch (121/​ 0–​64 BC)”. Historia 56, 280–​301. Houghton A. (1988) “The Double Portrait Coins of Alexander Balas and Cleopatra Thea”. SNR 67, 85–​93. Houghton A. and Le Rider G. (1988) “Un premier règne d’Antiochos VIII Epiphane à Antioche en 128”. BCH 112, 401–​11. Houghton A., Lorber C. and Hoover O. D. (2008) Seleukid Coins:  A Comprehensive Catalogue II. Seleukos IV Through Antiochos XIII. New York: American Numismatic Society. Iossif P. and Lorber C. (2007) “Laodikai and the Goddess Nikephoros”. AC 76,  63–​88.

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A change of husband 67 Istasse N. (2006) “Experts “barbares” dans le monde politique séleucide”. In Couvenhes J.-​C. and Legras B. (eds) Transferts culturels et politique dans le monde hellénistique. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 53–​80. Kasher A. (1990) Jews and Hellenistic Cities in Eretz-​Israel: Relations of the Jews in Eretz-​Israel with the Hellenistic Cities during the Second Temple Period (332 BCE-​ 70 CE). Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Kindler A. 1978. “Akko, a City of Many Names”. BASO 231, 51–​5. Kunst Ch. (2007) “Frauen im hellenistischen Herrscherkult”. Klio 89, 24–​38. Landau Y. H. (1961) “A Greek Inscription from Acre”. IEJ 11, 118–​26. Lifshitz B. (1963) “Sur le culte dynastique des Séleucides”. RB 70, 75–​81. Lorber C. C. (2007) “The Ptolemaic Era Coinage Revisited”. NC 167, 105–​17. Lorber C. C. (2016) “The Study of the Antioch Tetradrachms of Antiochus VII Euergetes”. Numismatic Chronicle 176, 21–​82. Macurdy G. H. (1932) Hellenistic Queens. A  Study of Woman-​Power in Macedonia, Seleucid Syria, and Ptolemaic Egypt. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Martinez-​Sève L. (2004) “Peuple d’Antioche et dynastie séleucide, B. Cabouret”. In Gatier P.-​L. and Saliou C. (eds) Antioche de Syrie. Histoire, images et traces de la ville antique (Topoi suppl. 5). Paris: De Boccard, 21–​41. Mastrocinque (1984) “Seleucidi divinizzati a Teo (OGIS 246)”. EA 3, 83–​5. Mitford T. B. (1937) “Contributions to the Epigraphy of Cyprus”. JHS 57, 28–​37. Mitford T. B. (1953) “Seleucus and Theodorus”. OpAth 1, 130–​71. Mittag P. F. (2000) “Die Rolle der hauptstädtischen Bevölkerung bei den Ptolemäern und Seleukiden im 3. Jahrhundert”. Klio 82, 411–​15. Muccioli F. (1995) “Gli epiteti di Demetrio II, re di Siria”. Simblos 1, 41–​56.Muccioli F. (2000) “Crisi e trasformazione del regno seleucide tra il II e il I secolo a.C.: titolatura, ruolo e competenze dei συγγενεις”. In Mooren L. (ed.) Politics, Administration and Society in the Hellenistic and Roman World. Leuven: Peeters, 251–​74. Muccioli F. (2001) “La scelta delle titolature dei Seleucidi: il ruolo dei fivloi e delle classi dirigenti cittadine”. Simblos 3, 295–​318. Muccioli F. (2003) “Cleopatra Thea, una regina tolemaica nella dinastia dei Seleucidi”. In Bonacasa N., Donadoni Roveri A. M., Aiosa S., and Minà P. (eds) Faraoni come dei. Tolemei come faraoni. Torino:  Museo Egizio di Torino/​Palermo:  Università degli studi di Palermo, 105–​16. Muccioli F. (2013) Gli epiteti ufficiali dei re ellenistici (Historia Einzelschriften 224). Stuttgart: Steiner. Muccioli F. (2016) “Poteri ereditari o sacralizzati nelle monarchie ellenistiche”. In De Luise F., Vegetti M., Canfora L., M. Giangiulio, Pazé V., Maffi A., Gastaldi S., Scrofani F., Piergiacomi E., and Zuolo F. (eds) Legittimazione del potere, autorità della legge:  un dibattito antico. Trento:  Università degli Studi di Trento, Dipartimento di Lettere e Filosofia,199–​222. Ogden D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death. The Hellenistic Dynasties. London: The Classical Press of Wales. Otto W. (1934) Zur Geschichte der Zeit des 6. Ptolemäers: ein Beitrag zur Politik und zum Staatsrecht des Hellenismus. München: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Peristianis I. K. (1927) Κυπριακά Χρονικά 6, 63. Piejko F. (1982) “Ptolemies in a List of Deified Seleucids from Teos, OGIS 246”. ZPE 42,  129–​31

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68  Monica D’Agostini Primo A. (2009) La storiografia sui Seleucidi.Da Megastene a Eusebio di Cesarea. Pisa/​ Roma: Fabrizio Serra. Rahlfs A. and Hanhart R. (2006) Septuaginta: id est Vetus Testamentum graece iuxta LXX interpretes. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft. Santi Amantini L. (1974) “Tolemeo VI Filometore re di Siria?”. RendIstLomb 108, 511–​29. Savalli-​Lestrade I. (1998) Les philoi royaux dans l’Asie hellénistique. Genève: Droz. Schlesinger A. C. (1959) History of Rome. Summaries, Fragments, Julius Obsequens. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Seibert J. (1967) Historische Beiträge zu den dynastischen Verbindungen in hellenistischer Zeit. Wiesbaden: Steiner. Seyrig H. (1960) “Antiquités syriennes, 78: Les dieux de Hiérapolis”. Syria 37, 233–​52. Seyrig H. (1962) “Antiquités syriennes, 80: Divinités de Ptolémaïs”. Syria 39, 193–​207. Svoronos I. N. (1904–​8) Τὰ νομίσματα, τοῦ κράτους τῶν Πτολεμαίων. I–​IV. Athens: Sakellarios. Thackeray H. St. J. (2014) De bello Judaico. English & Greek. The Jewish War. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Troiani L. (2008) “Note storiografiche sopra I  e II Maccabei”. Studi Ellenistici 20, 347–​70. Whitehorne J. (1994) Cleopatras. London/​New York: Routledge. Will E. (1982) Histoire politique du monde hellénistique II. Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy. Wright N. L. (2005) “Seleucid Royal Cult, Indigenous Religious Traditions, and Radiate Crowns: the Numismatic Evidence”. MedArch 18, 67–​82. Yarrow L. M. (2006) Historiography at the End of the Republic. Oxford/​New  York: Oxford University Press. Zervos G. T. (2014) “1 Makkabees”. In A New English Translation of the Septuagint and the Other Greek Translations Traditionally Included under That Title (NETS) online edition.

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4 Marital crises or institutional crises? Two Ptolemaic couples under the spotlight* Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton

Introduction This study examines two royal Ptolemaic couples who, according to some classical sources, were reputed to have experienced serious marital crises. The primary focus is on the couple Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III, who ruled during the end of the third century BCE . A point for comparison is provided by the couple Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II from the second century BCE . The methodology used here aims to compare the information provided by the literary sources –​which are much later than the marital crises mentioned –​with information from contemporary documentary sources concerning these rulers. The written sources consist of Greek and Egyptian inscriptions and papyri; the visual sources are from Egyptian temple bas-​reliefs and inscriptions. The comparison between both categories of sources should permit an evaluation of the historicity of the marital crises attributed to both couples and at the same time, question the reliability of the available documentation on this subject.

The royal couple Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III (220–​204 BCE ) Ptolemy IV Philopator and his sister Arsinoe III were the children of the Ptolemaic couple Ptolemy III and Berenice II (see Figure  4.1). Ptolemy  IV ascended to the throne in autumn 2221 and married his sister during the autumn of 220 BC E at the latest.2 Ptolemy IV, probably born in 244, was one or two years younger than his sister-​spouse.3 A child was born of this consanguine marriage in 210/​9 BCE , the future Ptolemy V; he became co-​ruler shortly after his birth.4 Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III died in 204 B C E in particular circumstances we will examine below The classical sources The classical sources provide heterogeneous and conflicting information about the royal couple’s relationship. These sources are presented in reverse chronological order; we start by analysing the most recent ones, which are most chronologically distant from the events, and then we go up the wire of time.

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70  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton Ptolemy III ∞ Berenice II

Ptolemy IV

∞

Arsinoe III

Ptolemy V

Figure 4.1 The genealogical stemma for Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III.

John of Antioch, a Greek Christian historian, active at the end of the sixth century or possibly at the beginning of the seventh century C E ,5 states that Ptolemy IV repudiated his sister-​spouse in favour of a courtesan named Agathokleia,6 but he does not say when this happened.7 Porphyry of Tyre, active in the second half of the third century C E , indicates that Agathokleia was a kithara player with whom Ptolemy IV fell desperately in love, while at the same time maintaining a sexual relationship with her brother Agathokles.8 In the fourth century, Justin, in his epitome of Pompeius Trogus’ Historiae Philippicae,9 declares that the king allowed himself to be seduced by Agathokleia after he murdered his sister-​spouse.10 Justin briefly mentions that the conjugal drama took place after the peace of Raphia (217/​6 B C E ). The impression given by these three authors from the late Empire and early Christian periods is that Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III had a discordant relationship during the greater part of their reign. Writing three centuries earlier, during the reign of the emperor Augustus, the Latin historian Livy does not refer to any marital disharmony within the royal couple. He mentions that the ambassador from the Roman Senate, sent to Egypt in 210/​09 BCE, brought presents for the king and the queen.11 This incident does not appear in Polybius’ text, one of Livy’s principal sources for the Hellenistic period.12 Livy may have obtained his information from the Senate’s archives, which could sustain his testimony. Livy’s text indicates in 210 BCE the queen was neither murdered nor repudiated. The fact that she received a gift befitting her royal status from the Senate –​a purple cloak and a palla –​, similar in value to the presents for Ptolemy IV, establishes that she had an official role at the court alongside her brother-​spouse. The Third Book of the Maccabees, written during the first century BCE, mentions Arsinoe III’s unusual intervention during the battle of Raphia (217 BCE), where Ptolemy IV’s army confronted the Seleucid troops of Antiochus III.13 The queen, invited by her brother-​spouse to the battleground, is reported to have exhorted the Ptolemaic troops to demonstrate proof of their courage. The 3Maccabees’ testimony is certainly inspired by Polybius’ Histories, written during the second century BCE and which mentions Arsinoe’s

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 71 presence at Raphia, as well as her speech to the soldiers.14 Polybius, the 3Maccabees and to a certain extent, Livy, therefore allow the reader to believe that Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III provided a clear image of a united couple who were mutually supportive during a critical moment for the kingdom. However, Polybius in his story about the court intrigues that followed the death of Ptolemy IV and led to the murder of Arsinoe III by some members of the court, offers a negative image of the queen’s life. Evoking the general feeling at Alexandria when the queen’s death was announced, Polybius declares, but concerning Arsinoe, when some recalled her orphanhood and others the insults and outrages inflicted on her during her whole life, and finally her unhappy death.15 The first part of this passage should raise the reader’s suspicion against Polybius’ testimony. Indeed, it is true that Arsinoe III lost her parents before marrying her brother, but she was 24 years old when her father died in 222 B C E , and her mother died the following year. At 24 to 25 years of age, Arsinoe was not a helpless child at the mercy of her brother, despite what seems to be suggested by the Greek author. In order to verify Polybius’ remarks about the outrages and cruel treatment that Arsinoe suffered, we propose now an examination of several documents from the reign of Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III. The papyrological documentation Written in Greek and in Egyptian demotic languages, the papyrological sources are extremely sparse in information about the conjugal relations between Ptolemy IV and his sister-​spouse, and about Arsinoe III’s status within the royal couple. Arsinoe is never mentioned in the papyri from the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator and is not associated with her husband as co-​ruler in the opening protocols.16 However, the papyri cite the queen alongside Ptolemy IV under the epithet “Theoi Philopatores” in the dynastic cult reorganised by the king in 216/​5 BCE.17 The fact that during her lifetime the queen was included in the dynastic cult testifies to Ptolemy IV’s desire to grant his sister-​spouse an official role and to indicate her presence as part of the royal couple presiding over the kingdom. In the later papyrological documentation, Arsinoe III appears as “mother of the king” in the opening protocols written in the reign of Ptolemy V Epiphanes.18 It is an usual title for a Ptolemaic queen. Arsinoe III is also mentioned in the official titles for her eponymic priestess, listed among the dynastic cult priestesses during her son’s reign19 and those of his successors.20 Apart from these references, we cannot extract information about Arsinoe III from the papyri. If we compare Arsinoe III’s situation with that of her predecessor, Berenice  II, wife of Ptolemy III Euergetes, certain elements become evident. In the demotic papyrological documentation dated from the reign of

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72  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton Ptolemy III Euergetes (246–​222 BCE), Berenice appears in only nine papyri. For the most part, they come from Upper Egypt, and in particular from Elephantine.21 She is identified as Pr-​ʿȝ.t, “Pharaoh” in the feminine form, in the opening protocols but also in the dedications within the documents. The documents present the rulers as:  “Pr-​ʿȝ (= Pharaoh) Ptolemy (III), son of Ptolemy (II) and Arsinoe (II) the Theoi Adelphoi”, and “Pr-​ʿȝ.t, (= Pharaoh in the feminine form) Berenice (II), the Theoi Euergetai”. This specific formulation for the two rulers, notably in the opening protocol, appeared for the first time.22 It may have reflected in the Egyptian language the establishment of a dynastic cult dedicated to both members of the royal couple. However, one can wonder why the same formulation was not used for Arsinoe III, who was also worshipped alongside Ptolemy IV Philopator in the dynastic cult of the Theoi Philopatores. It could be the Berenice II’s privileged position which provides the justification of the use of this feminised formulation of the multisecular title for the sole king of Egypt to qualify her. Indeed, in the Third Syrian War (246–​241 BCE), Berenice II temporarily ruled the kingdom during her husband’s absence and she became an equal to her husband for this time.23 In contrast, for Arsinoe III, the demotic papyri do not evoke an association of the royal wife with ruling powers, nor a particular status of the queen.

Figure 4.2a Upper register of the Raphia Decree stele (from Pithom), with Arsinoe III as Isis standing to the left of her brother-​spouse Ptolemy IV mounted on horseback and pointing his spear at a prisoner. Cairo Museum. Photo G. Lenzo.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 73

Figure 4.2b Reconstruction drawing (freely inspired) of the upper register of the Raphia Decree stele. Drawing: Marquita Volken.

The inscriptions on stone The Raphia Decree24 An important epigraphical document confirms Arsinoe III’s participation at the side of Ptolemy IV, at the battle of Raphia (see Figure 4.2a and b). The Raphia Decree, known from three steles, is recorded in three languages; hieroglyphic, demotic, and Greek.25 According to the surviving examples, the decree celebrating Ptolemy IV’s victory at Raphia and its subsequent benefits for the temples in the kingdom was to be inscribed in every temple in Egypt. The honours previously attributed to the king and queen were to be increased, and images of the king and queen, in Egyptian style, were to be erected in the most visible area of the temples.26 On the upper register, standing behind the king mounted on horseback27 is his sister-​spouse Arsinoe III as Isis.28 It is not the first time that the queen appears with her husband in the upper register of a stele of a synodal decree,29 but here we have an unusual representation among synodal iconography: the royal couple is shown alone, facing the enemy and the gods. This may attest the desire of Ptolemy IV to emphasise the couple –​comprised of himself and his sister-​wife –​and to promote the queen’s saving role for the kingdom. The message conveyed by this innovative representation may be as following:  it is he, Ptolemy Philopator, the king,

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74  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton who brought down the Syrian enemy, and in that, he was helped by the gods (pictured on the right corner of the upper register) and by the queen (in the left corner). In any case, it is not possible to detect the slightest sign of a conjugal crisis or a rejection of the queen, but rather quite the contrary. In contrast to the lack of references in the demotic papyrological sources, Arsinoe III is mentioned in the demotic version of the Raphia Decree (the only preserved section of the stone that mentions the queen) with her titles; she is qualified as sister and equally as Pr-​ʿȝ.t –​“Pharaoh” in the feminine form –​the same as Berenice II in the Canopus Decree.30 Thus, in the codified context of the decrees, Arsinoe III receives the same titles as her predecessor, and no distinction of status appears to have been made between these two women. The Greek inscriptions Inscriptions engraved by senior officials or from subjects of the Egyptian kingdom demonstrate that this royal message was understood, since the dedications were offered for both the king and his sister-​wife.31 Fifteen dedicatory inscriptions of this type were found in Egypt; they were offered by subjects bearing Egyptian or Greek names. Also, certain Ptolemaic officials were commended for their commitment to the royal couple.32 A  precise datation for these inscriptions is quite difficult, but the majority are engraved after 216/​5 B C E because they mention the sovereigns as Theoi Philopatores. Those containing references to the child Ptolemy V in association with his parents date after 210/​09 BCE . These documents therefore cover a large part of the reign of Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III. A remarkable light is shed on the couple Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III outside the Ptolemaic kingdom. Some inscriptions from Boiotia reveal the activity of the Ptolemaic rulers in this Greek region.

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At Thespiae, the Ptolemaic couple intervened in favour of the sanctuary of the Muses and the Mouseia festival. Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III provided 25,000 silver drachmae to the Thespians for purchasing land for the sanctuary.33 For her part, Arsinoe III sent a letter to the Thespians announcing her support for the Mouseia thymelic festival. Her letter was engraved on a stele, which also contains, below, a copy of a letter by Ptolemy IV who supported his sister-​spouse’s generosity.34 In addition to these inscriptions, we can mention a bronze coin with a woman’s head on the obverse and a crown and lyre on the reverse. According to A. Schachter, the woman’s head could be inspired from an Alexandrian type of Arsinoe II and the iconography could commemorate Arsinoe III’s generosity towards the Mouseia festival.35 Moreover, Pausanias describes a bronze statue of a queen Arsinoe seated on an ostrich, a statue erected in the sanctuary of the Muses at Thespiae: all the commentators of this text consider that this statue represents the queen Arsinoe II; however, in

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light of the epigraphical and numismatical sources linking Arsinoe III to Thespiae, it cannot be excluded that it represents the latter queen.36 A coin from Orchomenus, similar to the previous type from Thespiae, could be a proof –​according to A. Schachter –​of a donation from Arsinoe III in favour of the Charitesia festival at Orchomenus.37 The precise datation of the two inscriptions from Thespiae and of the coins from Thespiae and Orchomenus is still disputed, though current scholarship does indicate a period between 215 and 209 BC E .38 At the Amphiareion of Oropos, two inscriptions indicate that the royal couple were honoured with a statue, erected between 220 and 217 BC on the main road leading to the sanctuary.39 At Delphi, an Aetolian hipparchos (named Lamius) dedicated a statue base to Apollo Pythian in honour of Arsinoe III, Ptolemy IV, and their son.40 The mention of the royal child Ptolemy V shows that the monument has to be dated after 210/​09 BC E ; two Aetolian hieromemnones from Delphi, both named Lamius, are known at the end of the third century B C E : one was active between 209/​8 and 204/​3 B C E , the other between 205/​ 4 and 202/​01 BC E . The dedicatory inscription therefore dates between 209 and 204 B C E , the latter being the year Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III died.

These Boeotian documents are of a highly political nature; they attest the conjoint action of Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III. Through these interventions in Boeotia, the Ptolemaic sovereigns looked to secure allies in Central Greece in order to balance the rising power of the young Macedonian king Philip V. It should be noted that in this context the queen appears to have played a prestigious role, equal to or even superior to that of her brother-​spouse. Arsinoe’s letter for the Mouseia donation is engraved first on the Thespiae stele, above her brother-​spouse’s letter in which he demonstrates his approval for his sister’s actions. Arsinoe’s name is also first mentioned on the Delphian base. Absolutely nothing in these documents, which cover the larger part of the reign of Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III, raises a suspicion of strained relations between royal husband and wife, and even less an attempt of exclusion or repudiation of the queen. Around the Aegean Sea, outside the Ptolemaic possessions of Cyprus and Thera, we find several documents concerning the royal couple. A decree from Siphnos honouring an ambassador sent by a king Ptolemy –​identified as Ptolemy IV –​may be seen as one of the diplomatic consequences of the battle of Raphia.41 It could date from the years 217/​6 BCE, and could confirm the official role accorded to Arsinoe III immediately after Raphia, since the queen is mentioned three times in the inscription, always in association with the king and/​or with the Ptolemaic armies. At Kos, the queen received two statue bases in her own name; one consecrated by the inhabitants in thanks of her benevolence,42 the other consecrated by Kallimachus, an agonothetes from Alexandria and a disciple of the doctor Herophilus.43 On the first base Arsinoe is mentioned without her cult epithet, while she carries it on the

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76  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton second base; thus, one of these documents is anterior to 216/​5 BCE, and the other posterior. These three Aegean sources lead to the same conclusions as the Boiotian documents: an official role was given to Arsinoe III, at least from the battle at Raphia, and the queen contributed to the diplomatic and political strategies of her brother-​spouse among the Greek cities. In Asia Minor, an inscription from Ephesus, which is unfortunately extremely lacunar, appears to be the beginning of a letter conjointly addressed to the two Ptolemaic rulers.44 Finally, a dedication from Ilion  –​offered to the Gods of Samothrace by a woman from Pergamon for the salvation of Ptolemy IV, Arsinoe III, and their son –​confirms that outside Egypt the royal couple appeared to form a solid and harmonious union.45 The steles in Egyptian language Apart from the Raphia Decree, the Egyptian epigraphic documents concerning Arsinoe III and dating from the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator are rare. Indeed, to the author’s knowledge, there is only one from the period featuring Arsinoe III:  the stele EA 1054 in the British Museum, originally from Tanis.46 The design, directly inspired from the Egyptian temple religious reliefs, shows the royal couple dressed in a manner similar to that in the royal reception scenes.47 The couple directly faces the triad of Min, Harsiese, and Wadjet, though no specific ritual is being represented. The text contained in the upper register comprises epithets, royal and divine names. The stele’s central section lacks inscriptions. Thus, the stele is impossible to date, though the scene, strongly inspired by the ones from Egyptian sanctuaries, and the archaeological context confirm its use in a local cult within a geographically restricted area, or perhaps even a personal cult. The stele was indeed found in a niche within a small brick chapel. Far from presenting a marital crisis, this document appears to indicate the opposite and confirms the place of Arsinoe III at the side of Ptolemy IV Philopator in the steles erected for local and personal cults as well as in the royal decrees. We find the queen associated with her husband within a “small-​scale” piety, maybe in a context of personal piety. So her status as a full member of the deified ruling couple was well known to all inhabitants of Egypt and had reached all levels of the population, including outside the official cult established in the major centres of worship in Egypt. The temple reliefs: a special case In addition to the inscribed steles, there is another source of epigraphical information in the Egyptian language: the reliefs in the Egyptian temples. These provide a large quantity of theological and political information about the history of Egypt during the Ptolemaic period. It is therefore essential to include this particular type of documentation when considering Arsinoe III.48

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 77 The queen’s presence in the temples Arsinoe III is attested 98 times in Egyptian temples, and 92 date from the reign of Ptolemy IV. In comparison, Berenice I, wife of Ptolemy I Soter, is only represented three times in temple reliefs, with only one mention contemporary to the reign of Ptolemy I Soter.49 Arsinoe II, the Thea Philadelphos, is only mentioned 34 times in the sanctuaries or on stone blocks coming from temples, and less than half (18) of the scenes date from the reign of his brother-​spouse Ptolemy II Philadelphus. Finally, Berenice II appears 62 times in the temples, with 46 of these inscriptions dating from her reign with Ptolemy III Euergetes. Consequently, Arsinoe III is more attested than any of her predecessors. Arsinoe III is portrayed and cited in the major part of the Egyptian temples with her brother-​spouse Ptolemy IV Philopator, but the Temple of Horus at Edfu has the largest number of the queen’s attestations. The construction of this monument started indeed under the reign of Ptolemy III Euergetes (the father of Arsinoe III), and most of the interior of the temple’s naos decorations carry the name of Ptolemy IV Philopator.50 A quantitative and geographical study of all temples reliefs dating from the reign of Ptolemy IV and portraying Arsinoe III indicates that the image of the queen was used more than anyone before by the Egyptian priests, and that she was not excluded from any sanctuary. Importantly, among the 92 examples dating from the reign of her husband, Arsinoe III always appears as a living and ruling queen. In contrast, Arsinoe II is portrayed in the temples as a deified queen only, including on the reliefs made during the reign of her brother-​spouse Ptolemy II Philadelphus. Spatial analysis of the queen’s representations According to the “grammaire du temple”, a concept defined in the 1960s by Ph. Derchain,51 each ritual scene in a sanctuary carries its own signification. Moreover, the location and orientation of the reliefs one to another are strongly meaningful. Thus, it is useful to examine the positions of the ritual scenes portraying Arsinoe III in the temples, in order to identify the decorative principles that govern her appearance within the sanctuaries and to discern their possible ensuing signification. In the temples, Arsinoe III appears principally in two areas: on the walls and in the entrances.

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In Edfu (Figure  4.3), where we find most of the scenes representing Arsinoe III, the reliefs portraying or mentioning the queen are located on doorways, where only initiated people could pass through. From a mythological point of view, the reliefs decorating the entranceways are distinctive because they contain a complete summary of the temple’s theology. The principal divinities of the temple are shown on the lintel and

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3

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2

2

2

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Position of the scene/text: Wall register (scene) Wall register (text) Other register than wall (text) Basement (scene) Basement (text) Entrance (scene)

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Entrance (text) Numbers point out the number of scenes and texts located in the same place in rooms but in different registers.

Figure 4.3 Localisation of the representations of Arsinoe III at Edfu dating from the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 79

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the most visibly accessible registers, while gods from neighbouring cultic centres are shown on other panels.52 Doorways thus play an important role in displaying and supporting the condensed theological message, and the king’s presence is essential since he is the first of the kingdom’s priests. Consequently, the highly visible presence of the queen in these areas  –​precisely  –​is an indication of her status as a part of the royal couple, ruling the kingdom and heading the state religion; this indication is similar to the message carried by the stele EA 1054 from the British Museum (see supra part The steles in Egyptian language). The scenes of the temple walls portraying Arsinoe III show that there is a different repartition for each room. At Edfu (Figure 4.3), the queen is mostly shown on the walls of the sanctuary and of the Hall of the Ennead (also called the central vestibule). Then comes the wabet53 and the Hall of Appearance (also called the inner hypostyle). Finally, the Offering Hall contains only one scene portraying the queen. Thus, Arsinoe III appears on the walls of rooms whose decorations have as a primary goal affirming and reinforcing the royal power of the ruling couple. Placing the pair of the Theoi Philopatores  –​and not the king alone  –​opposite the divine couple venerated in the sanctuary, the priests consolidated the equilibrium between the earthly powers opposite those of the heavenly powers.54 The queen’s presence next to her husband seems to be likewise necessary in order to ensure the stability and longevity of the royal power, by the satisfaction of the expanded local pantheon (scenes from the central vestibule) and the proper conduct of the important celebrations for the royal cult such as that of the New Year Festival (reliefs from the wabet and the inner hypostyle).55 Similar to the doors and entranceways, the reliefs from the temple walls confirm the queen’s role as a partner of the king in the exercise of power, and also as an element of legitimation and reinforcement of the royal Ptolemaic authority in both the political and the religious sphere.

Iconographical analysis of the portrayals of Arsinoe III Forty-​seven ritual scenes constitute the iconographical corpus dedicated to Arsinoe III and dated from the reign of Ptolemy IV; the majority of them show the queen next to her husband, more precisely, behind him. Most often, she participates with him in different offerings to the gods, but she is never the direct –​principal –​interlocutor with the deities and never has a specific offering. Arsinoe III accompanies the king in the ritual, but without taking an active part in it, and the king remains the main actor of the ritual performed. The queen is more rarely represented receiving offerings in the temples, and only within a particular context: the royal reception scenes. These scenes are fundamental for the ruling power; they attest that the Egyptian gods themselves conferred to the Ptolemaic sovereign the power to rule the country.56 In these representations, Arsinoe III is always near Ptolemy IV Philopator,

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80  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton receiving the honours and divine benefits at his side. Thus in these reliefs, this is the Ptolemaic couple –​and not the king alone –​who is legitimised by the Egyptian gods. The representation of Arsinoe III in the reliefs is typical for the Ptolemaic period: sheath dress, ousekh collar, uræus diadem, and basileion. The queen usually holds an ankh cross in one hand, and with the other she performs a gesture of protection or adoration:57 a classic combination for a Ptolemaic queen as a passive participant in rituals. In the scenes of the reception of royal power, Arsinoe III occasionally carries a papyrus scepter, an affirmation of her divine status in this type of reliefs.58 However, in general, her portrayals do not reflect any precise power, nor a particular religious and/​or political status, unlike the example of the specific crown created for the Arsinoe II as Thea Philadelphos. Titularies of the queen The titulature of the queen displayed in the temples shows that she was not designated by a specific title. In the reliefs dating from the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator, Arsinoe III is sȝ.t-​nsw.t, “daughter of the king”, sn.t-​ḥm.t-​nsw.t (wr.t), “sister and spouse (or great spouse) of the king”, or even ḥqȝ.t nb.t-​tȝ.wy, “ruler and mistress of the Two Lands”. These titles are generalised and quite common among Ptolemaic queens, and are a heritage from the dynastic period. Then, Arsinoe III did not receive a specific title like Arsinoe II, nor a name of Horus like Berenice II. Arsinoe III in the temple of Arensnuphis at Philae While the picture of Arsinoe III in temples takes shape, we must now examine a special case in order to have a complete and correct image of this queen. Indeed, two scenes from the temple of Arensnouphis at Philæ are remarkable because they represent Arsinoe III is portrayed alone, facing the god.59 One scene is within the temple, the other on a loose stone block in front of the temple.

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​ he title of the scene has been preserved, and thus the two reliefs can T be recognised as scenes of adoration of the goddess Hathor. The queen is described as nb(.t)-​tȝ.wy/​(Arsinoe)|, “mistress of the Two Lands/​ (Arsinoe)|”. This frequently used title does not provide more information about her status, but she has the rare priviledge of being the recipient of the divine words, as shown by the use of the female pronoun. The loose stone block presents no particular information: the titulature of the queen is identical to that in the scene on the south side of the east wall. ​The king is present in the close scenes or in the symmetrical scenes at the two reliefs. Additionally, the legend referring to the queen also mentions the king’s personal name. Thus, the context and the texts strongly link

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 81 Arsinoe III to Ptolemy IV Philopator, even if she is shown alone worshipping Hathor. This type of scene showing a ruling queen alone facing gods is attested 47 times in the Egyptian sanctuaries. The queens shown are Arsinoe III (2), Cleopatra II (2), Berenice III (1), and above all Cleopatra III (7)  and Cleopatra VII (25), who represent nearly 70 per cent of the queens portrayed in this situation. Ten examples cannot be attributed. According to G.  Hölbl, followed by M.  Minas, the real political role of the royal women most probably contributed to supporting their representation alone in front of the divinities.60 As previously mentioned, nearly 70 per cent of the reliefs are those of Cleopatra III and Cleopatra VII, the two queens who had –​without a doubt –​the most political power in the history of their lineage. In this context, one can be surprised to find the sister of Ptolemy IV Philopator represented alone, facing a goddess in chamber III of the temple of Arensnuphis. Indeed, according to ancient authors, as we have mentioned before, Arsinoe III did apparently not leave her mark on the political life in Ptolemaic Egypt, neither by her influence nor by any exercise of power. These two representations of the goddess Philopator officiating alone, in front of a divinity, seem to contradict the correlation of this type of scene and the real power of royal women –​unless we have to revise our vision of Arsinoe III’s political role during the reign of her brother, Philopator. In fact, in the years following her brother’s ascension to the throne, Arsinoe III appears to have had an important role at her brother’s side, as testified by her public intervention on the battlefield of Raphia,61 and by her interventions among the Greek cities including Thespiae. These unusual actions for a Hellenistic queen can indeed be interpreted as signs of an influential and privileged position of a female ruler in the political sphere. Perhaps this status led the priests to have her represented alone in front of the gods. The support of such a power base could also explain her murder in 204.62 In any case, we note that during the reign of Ptolemy Philopator this type of scene –​a queen alone facing the gods –​is only attested for Arsinoe III; no other previous dynastic or Ptolemaic queen had the honour of being shown alone in front of a divinity. Review: Arsinoe III in the Egyptian temples The study of the attestations concerning Arsinoe III in the native temples highlights a certain number of elements and lets us discern more precisely the role conferred on her by the Egyptian priests. This role seems clearly defined: she is the king’s partner in the exercise of the political and religious royal powers, although it remains evident that Ptolemy IV Philopator had the dominant position in the ruling couple. However, there are differences between Arsinoe III’s representations and those of her predecessors. The main one is, first and foremost, the increased frequency of her appearances

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82  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton in sanctuaries. In addition, other elements, more discreet and very punctual, highlight the importance of Arsinoe III as compared to the previous queens: the most remarkable one is the presence of the queen alone in front of the gods in the temple of Arensnuphis at Philae, as described previously (see supra part Arsinoe III in the temple of Arensnuphis at Philae). This element, combined with the increase in representations of Arsinoe III, confirms the idea that there was, at this time, a real desire to amplify and accentuate the queen’s role within the temple. If this was also used by the royal policy in order to reinforce the dynastic power,63 the influence of the queen on her brother and her privileged role can no longer be dismissed. Historical reality and marital crisis An overview of the contemporary documents of the royal couple shows that they do not confirm the allegations of some literary sources regarding the existence of a conjugal crisis between the spouses. On the contrary, the image transmitted by the primary sources about Arsinoe III is that of a politically active queen, present on the international scene and in the Egyptian kingdom, closely associated with the throne, with the strengthening of the dynasty, and participating in a staging of the royal couple. Moreover, the stelae and reliefs in the Egyptian language indicate that the status and influence of the queen at the side of her brother-​spouse seem to have been recognised by the individual subjects of the kingdom as well as by the Egyptian high priests. How then to explain the discordant remarks found in the literary testimonies? The rumor of marital problems may rest on some singular aspects of the conjugal relationship between Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III. Indeed, it is surprising, considering the predecessors and successors of this royal couple, that Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III –​who were married for at least 16 years –​produced only one child, and that only after at least ten years of marriage, occurring when the queen was regarded by the Greeks as (too) old to give birth: indeed, if Arsinoe III was born one or two years before her brother Ptolemy IV, who was probably born in 244 BCE, she would have been 35–​36 years old in 210/​09 BCE. Possibly courtiers or slanderers sought to explain this peculiarity by the fact that the king abandoned his wife and preferred extramarital affairs. In the light of current biological and genetic knowledge, we would be rather inclined to ask whether the consanguinity of the spouses, adding to the fact that they were born of parents who were cousins, might have had the effect of making one and/​or the other infertile. We note that even if Ptolemy IV was accused of repeated debaucheries and lustful behaviour, we do not hear of any illegitimate offspring –​notably from his mistress/​concubine Agathokleia –​, which is very surprising in the least. However, the main cause of these discrepancies appears to rest on Polybius, that is, on his confused account of the death of Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III and on the overall judgement he bears on the reign of Ptolemy IV. The exact circumstances of the sovereign’s death, probably in the summer of 204 BC E ,64 are not known since Polybius’ description appeared at the end

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 83 of book 14, which is lost. One of the major problems is to understand who died first: Arsinoe III or Ptolemy IV. In contrast to other modern scholars, Ch. Bennett supposes that the queen died shortly before the king.65 It is also very difficult to know how much time passed between the death of each sovereign. From Polybius, we may suppose that the duration may have been only a few days. In book 15,66 Polybius suggests that once Ptolemy IV had died, his counselors Agathokles and Sosibius had the queen Arsinoe assassinated by a certain Philammon, one of Agathokles’ henchmen. Only then would they have officially announced the death of the king and the queen to the people of Alexandria, before reading a false will, according to which the deceased king had appointed them both guardians of his son, the young Ptolemy V. Then they celebrated the funeral ceremony; however, while the king’s urn contained his ashes, the queen’s contained only aromatics.67 This ‘sleight of hand’ treatment of Arsinoe’s body is particularly difficult to explain. Some modern scholars suppose –​based on a passage of John of Antioch –​68 that the queen perished in a fire which ravaged the palace; therefore, her burned body could not be recovered. On the basis of incomplete and contradictory information provided by the sources, we judge that any attempt to understand what actually happened during the summer of 204 BCE at Alexandria is in vain. Nevertheless, the affair of the fake funerary urn –​whether true or false –​ is an interesting point since it reveals the climate of rumours and suspicions into which Alexandria was plunged, after the death of the king and queen. The probability of a conspiracy to eliminate either Ptolemy IV or Arsinoe III, or both, is relatively certain. Polybius explicitly speaks about Arsinoe’s assassination, without mentioning the motivation behind this act.69 Most modern historians assume that Agathokles and Sosibius led the conspiracy, but Ch. Bennett does not share this opinion and judges the two men loyal to their king: since he places Arsinoe III’s death before that of Ptolemy IV, he considers it perfectly legal for the king’s will to stipulate that the kingdom and the guardianship of young Ptolemy V would be given to Sosibius and Agathokles.70 Be that as it may, nothing in Polybius’ story supports the idea of a misunderstanding between Ptolemy IV and his wife at the end of their reign. That Agathokles and Sosibius obtained this tutelage just after the death of Arsinoe III and by the posthumous will of Ptolemy IV –​as postulated by Ch. Bennett –​or that they had Arsinoe III murdered and then produced a false will to obtain guardianship over the young Ptolemy V –​as says Polybius, followed by the majority of modern scholars –​, the king had probably planned to entrust the guardianship of the young crown prince to Arsinoe III if he died before her.71 W. Huss, who places the death of Arsinoe after that of the king, supposes that the queen received the support of the Ptolemaic army.72 Thus, despite its lacunary state, Polybius’ narrative evokes Arsinoe III’s political involvement, her place in the court, and her position in the kingdom. This is suggested by Polybius, who refers to the regret of a certain Dinon; this man knew something about the plot to assassinate Arsinoe, but he did not denounce it:

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84  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton it was perfectly in his power to report the criminal project and save the kingdom […] However, after the murder had been committed, Agathocles found out that he was always recalling his conduct, lamenting it to many people and expressing regret for the chance he had let slip.73 Polybius thus binds the salvation of Arsinoe with the salvation of the entire kingdom. The state of affliction into which, according to Polybius, the news of Arsinoe’s death plunged the inhabitants of the capital, is another indication of the queen’s popularity, and consequently of her engagement in the conduct of the kingdom’s affairs alongside her brother-​spouse.74 Polybius’ treatment of the queen is contradictory:  on the one side, he shows Arsinoe III as a queen respected by all inhabitants of Egypt and sometimes made to be the pivot of stability for the kingdom, while on the other side he portrays her as a helpless woman who was mistreated and abused, as previously cited: when some recalled her orphanhood and others the insults and outrages inflicted on her during her whole life, and finally her unhappy death.75 How can this contradiction be explained? The explanation rests probably on Polybius’ propensity to denigrate Ptolemy IV to the detriment of any objective analysis.76 The Greek historian is unforgiving in his hatred of this Egyptian king, attributing to him a panoply of vices and excesses; he certainly considers that the wife of this sovereign could only have had an unfortunate married life. Modern scholars recognise and denounce Polybius’ biased judgement of Ptolemy IV, thus partially discharging the king; however, the majority continue to portray Arsinoe III as an abandoned wife and as a queen deprived of political stature.77 It should be noted that Polybius (at least in his surviving work) draws no explicit conclusion from the role played by Arsinoe III in Raphia; nor does he wonder whether political elements might have motivated the murder of the queen in parallel with that of Ptolemy IV. He therefore does not envisage these two spouses sharing a common political vision and acting as partners on both the political and the conjugal level. Was the Greek historian unable to conceive such a situation, or did he deliberately refuse to consider it? It is interesting to examine how Polybius’ remarks have been echoed by his successors. While Hellenistic and Roman Republican sources contain the anecdote relating to Arsinoe III’s intervention at Raphia and admit her official role at court alongside her brother-​spouse, sources from the Imperial Roman Empire period and the Byzantine era have omitted this information. They focus on Ptolemy IV’s adulterous relationship and Arsinoe III’s conjugal setbacks. Justin does not hesitate to have her murdered by her husband,78 while John of Antioch places Arsinoe’s repudiation by her husband as an important point of the story. In his account, however, the Byzantine author linked the death of the queen and the destruction of something that had

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 85 to do with the royalty (basileiois).79 Yet modern scholars interpret the term basileiois as a substantive noun indicating “the royal palace” and suppose that a fire destroyed the building and killed the queen. On the contrary, we understand this word as a nominal adjective in the neuter plural and attribute its meaning as in the sense of “royal regime”, signifying that the death of Arsinoe affected the entire kingdom and its institutions. We think that John was directly inspired by the sentence of Polybius about Dinon, who did not try to prevent the queen’s death and its consequences:  “it was perfectly in his power to report the criminal project and save the kingdom (basileia)”.80 However, since John of Antioch did not mention the intervention of Arsinoe at Raphia or any other political action of the queen, the relationship between Arsinoe’s death and the end of the royal regime could not be understandable by John’s readers. In any case, neither the assassination of the queen by Ptolemy IV nor the repudiation resist an examination of the documentary sources which attest to the continuous presence of Arsinoe III with her brother-​spouse during their reign. In addition, the hypothesis of repudiation does not take into account the conclusions of recent studies on Hellenistic royalty:  regardless of the marital problems between two royal spouses, a queen maintained her rank at court and in the kingdom when she was the mother of the heir titular, a fortiori if the heir was already associated with the throne.81 The affirmation of John of Antioch about the repudiation of Arsinoe III can be viewed as anachronistic and resulting from a monogamous Christian conception of royal unions. Therefore, it appears that Roman writers of the Imperial and Byzantine periods have selected certain aspects of Polybius’ works, so as to reinforce their stereotyped vision of the dynamics of a royal couple82 and to hide –​consciously or not –​the genuine political reality: that of a queen to whom her husband granted an official and active public role. The story of these conjugal crises is used somehow to distract the reader and divert his attention.

The royal couple royal Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II during the civil war (132–​127 BCE ) The conjugal relations maintained by another Ptolemaic couple –​Ptolemy VIII Euergetes and his sister-​spouse Cleopatra II –​also aroused comments on the part of the classical authors. The latter, in their accounts of the Egyptian civil war (132–​127 BC E ), focused their attention on the emotional dimension of the couple relationship to the detriment of analysis of the political context. This file constitutes therefore an interesting point of comparison with the treatment of the relations between Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III by the Greco-​Roman literary sources. However, the “case Ptolemy VIII-​Cleopatra II” and the sovereigns’ portrayal by the literary sources was examined in some recent works.83 Thus, we shall just summarise here the conclusions of these studies, and then we shall

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Figure 4.4 Genealogical stemma of the Ptolemaic royalty in the second century; names in bold indicate involvement in the civil war of 132–​124 B CE .

put the accent on the common points between the ancient documentation on these two couples and on the ideological biases of the classical authors. Cleopatra II, daughter of Ptolemy V and Cleopatra I, married successively each of her two brothers: initially Ptolemy VI Philometor (from 175 to 145 BC E ), then after his death by accident, her younger brother Ptolemy VIII Euergetes (from 145 to 116 BCE ). The marriage between Cleopatra II and Ptolemy VI produced two sons, but only one was still alive when Ptolemy VI died in 145 BCE . The marriage between Cleopatra II and Ptolemy VIII produced an only child, Ptolemy Memphites (born in 144/​ 3 B C E ).84 In 141/0 B C E , Ptolemy VIII took a second wife, Cleopatra III, the daughter of Cleopatra II and Ptolemy VI. The arrival of this second wife did not lead to the banishment of Cleopatra II: she remained queen while maintaining her rank and prerogatives at the court and in the kingdom. During the years 145 to 132 BC E  –​even if Cleopatra II carried the title of “sister to the king” while Cleopatra III was generally called “the wife of the king”85  –​no indication of a major conjugal crisis between Cleopatra II and Ptolemy VIII appears in the contemporary sources: papyri, inscriptions, and bas-​reliefs mention or show together the queen Cleopatra and her brother-​spouse, or the royal trio comprised of the king and the two queens. However, in 132 BC E , a civil war broke out, with Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra  III siding against Cleopatra II. The queen had certainly hoped to form a joint reign with one of her sons, either with the surviving son she had with Ptolemy VI (he is named Ptolemy A  in the genealogical stemma Figure 4.4), or with Ptolemy Memphites, born from her union with Ptolemy VIII. This strategy did not succeed because Ptolemy VIII had both boys assassinated. The clash of power between Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II during the civil war is attested by documents of the period, notably the opening protocols.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 87 Several protocols indicate that between 132 and 131/​30 B C E . Cleopatra II remained alone on the throne of Alexandria, with the support of the Alexandrians, and controlled several cities in the south of the kingdom. For their part, Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra III fled to Cyprus, waiting until Ptolemy VIII could undertake the reconquest of Egypt, leaving from the Fayoum and regaining ground gradually. In 127 BCE , Cleopatra II left Alexandria and took refuge in Syria. The Egyptian capital was quickly besieged and consequently recaptured by Ptolemy VIII. The documentary sources do not leave any doubt about the exercise of supreme power by Cleopatra II between 132 and 127 B C E : she is mentioned alone in the opening protocols, and establishes a new cult title  –​Thea Philometor Soteira; she nominates the high priests for the dynastic cult in Alexandria and benefits from the support of certain military leaders, notably the strategos of Thebaid and the governor of Cyprus before the latter was dismissed by Ptolemy VIII.86 However, she does not appear on any temple reliefs, probably due to the briefness of her independent reign and also because the main Egyptian temples were located in troubled regions, and because the Egyptian high priests were loyal to Euergetes II, who had been generous towards the temples. In contrast, the literary testimonies –​Diodorus, Livy, Valerius Maximus, Justin (who based his information on Pompeius Trogus), and Orosius  –​ ­present a very different version of the queen’s power during the civil war of 132–​127 B C E . While they describe the facts and activities of Ptolemy VIII through several action verbs (often in the third person singular), they do not confer any political or military acts to his sister-​spouse Cleopatra II during the outbreak of the civil war or during her single-​handed supervision of the kingdom after Ptolemy VIII had fled. They do not attribute any political strategy to Cleopatra II and do not mention the possibility that she planned to form a joint reign with one of her sons. Rather, Cleopatra II is portrayed as a passive sister-​spouse, victim of the brutal actions of Ptolemy  VIII. The flagrant bias of these authors is evident when describing the murder of young Ptolemy Memphites on order of his father Ptolemy  VIII: the child was killed, dismembered, and the body parts placed in a basket sent to Cleopatra II as a birthday present. The authors explain this abominable act by the mutual hatred between Ptolemy VIII and his sister-​spouse.87 Cleopatra II’s reaction to this despicable crime is presented exclusively from an emotional angle: her grief, her mourning, her retreat to the palace, and the compassion she aroused among the people of Alexandria.88 They make absolutely no allusion to the political motive for this murder, namely to prevent Cleopatra II from establishing a joint reign with her son Ptolemy Memphites and thus to isolate the queen on the throne of Egypt, rendering more legitimate the reconquest of power by Ptolemy VIII.89 The couple Ptolemy VIII-​Cleopatra II is presented by the literary sources in a stereotypical manner:  action and political anticipation are the prerogatives of Ptolemy VIII as a man, a brother-​spouse, and a father, while Cleopatra II, as a woman, a sister-​spouse, and a mother, is confined to the emotional level

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88  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton and forced to suffer the negative effects of her male partner’s decisions and aberrant behaviours. Although it cannot be excluded that the conjugal relations between Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II were problematic (given that the king chose, as his second wife, the daughter of his first wife), this is not a sufficient reason to explain the outbreak of the civil war. This kind of event has to have political motivations, in particular when the population supports one of the camps. For Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II –​as for Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III –​the stereotypical and gender-​based comportment of the royal protagonists in the literary accounts is contradicted by the documentary evidence, which shows the queens (Arsinoe III or Cleopatra II) exercising a genuine political role.

Conclusion The documents dating from the reigns of Ptolemy IV-​Arsinoe III and of Ptolemy VIII-​Cleopatra II do not furnish any direct proof of the existence of marital crisis within these royal couples. This can be explained by the fact that the primary documentation was produced either by the royal power itself, or by subjects wishing to show their loyalty to this power, notably the high priests. Contemporary papyrological, epigraphic, or iconographic sources therefore constitute a type of “propaganda documentation”, in which it would have been unseemly to suggest the existence of marital problems. These sources are, however, not without interest for our purpose:

•

•

The sources attest that Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III presented themselves during their whole reign  –​in action and presence  –​as a couple governing the kingdom even if the queen does not appear in the opening protocols. The sources show that Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II (then with Cleopatra III) also attempted to present, for a dozen years, the appearance of a harmonious couple/​trio until the facade of their union deteriorated in 132. They also attest that during the reign of each of these two couples, important institutional changes took place, affecting the official role of the queen and her involvement in the political management of the kingdom.

On the other hand, in all the literary sources, from Polybius to John of Antioch, the institutional innovations that gave more power to the female partner of the ruling couple, as well as the political actions carried out together by the royal couple, are minimised or untold. The behaviour of the royal protagonists is presented in a stereotyped and gendered manner, especially in the Roman imperial sources: a queen who appears holding an official political role in the primary documentation is most often presented in the later literary sources as a humiliated wife, victim of the depravity of

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 89 her husband. We thus note a propensity of ancient writers to report abhorrent marital relations between such royal spouses or to highlight the deviant behaviour of the king towards his wife. This literary bias give evidence of the incapacity of the Hellenistic and Roman authors to consider that a royal couple could be composed of partners maintaining both a marital relationship and a political relationship. In addition, one can suspect the ancient writers to have tried to distract their readers from some institutional changes favourable to royal wives by focusing their remarks on private scandalous affairs, such as couples’ marital crises. In conclusion, if disagreements did certainly exist on a private level within both couples, they did not have the impact imparted by the literary sources:

• •

For Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III, the eventual conjugal tensions did not prevent the introduction of a program of dynastic consolidation, based on the official presentation of the royal couple, shown as stable and unified. For Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II, their private disagreements certainly existed but were concealed from public view from 145 to 132 BC and are not the origin of the civil war, which was based on political motives, particularly on Cleopatra II’s desire to form a joint reign with one of her sons and expel her brother-​spouse from the throne.

Therefore it appears that some literary sources have exploited certain marital tensions –​even minor –​in order to conceal state affairs and political strategies, and to avoid discussing the changes that affected the Ptolemaic institutions, making them more favourable to women. It is striking to note that the biases in the later period sources have greatly influenced present scholars in their perception of these royal couples and the role of the queens concerned.

Abbreviations I. Cret.   Guarducci M. Inscriptiones Creticae. Roma: Libreria dello Stato. 1935–​1950. I. Ephesos Börker Ch. and Merkelbach R. Die Inschriften von Ephesos. Bonn: Habelt. 1979. (Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien, 12). IG    Inscriptiones Graecae. OGIS     Dittenberger W. Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae. Leipzig: Hirzel. 1903–​1905. Reed. Hildesheim: Olms. 1986. SEG    Supplementum epigraphicum graecum. The abbreviations for the papyri are those used by Trismegistos (www. trismegistos.org).

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Notes * We would like to thank Marquita Volken, who translated the text, and Giuseppina Lenzo and Pierre Sánchez who carefully proofread our manuscript. 1 Regarding the date of death of Ptolemy III, see Bennett (2001–​ 2012), s.v. ‘Ptolemy  III’, n.  9. The accession to the throne of Ptolemy IV, elder son and logical heir, was not easy because of a rivalry with his younger brother Magas, supported by their mother Berenice. Magas was killed by an agent of Ptolemy IV in 222–​221 BC E ; see Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Magas’; Berenice died allegedly from poison: Plb. 15.25.2 and Zenob. 5.94. 2 Regarding the date of marriage between Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III, see Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Arsinoe III’, n. 5. 3 For the supposed birth dates of the two rulers, see Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Ptolemy IV’ n. 3, and ‘Arsinoe III’ n. 3. 4 The references for the antique documents are given by Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Ptolemy IV’ and ‘Ptolemy V’. 5 Concerning the identity and life of John of Antioch, we follow the conclusions of Roberto (2005), 11–​30. 6 John of Antioch, Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum (FHG) IV.558 F54. 7 Modern historians’ discussions concerning the date of death for Ptolemy IV are presented by Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Ptolemy IV’, n. 8. Polybius placed erroneously the death in 203 BC E , but it is attested by some papyrological sources that this event took place in 204 BC E . 8 Porph. FGrH 260 F45. 9 Justin’s abbreviated version of Pompeius Trogus’ Historiae Philippicae is quite problematical. First, the date attributed by scholars to his epitome fluctuates between the middle of the second and the end of the fourth century B C . Secondly, if scholars now accept that Justin was not content to slavishly summarise Trogus’ histories, the nature and extent of his personal contributions are uncertain. Finally, the period of activity for Pompeius Trogus –​probably under Augustus –​ has been largely debated as well as his unidentified Hellenistic sources. For further information about Justin and Pompeius Trogus, see particularly Bartels (2015), Bartlett (2014) (specifically 257 and 258 for the opinion of Justin and Trogus about Ptolemy IV), Yardley (2010), and Yardley et al. (1997), 1–​41. 10 Just. 30.1.7-​8. 11 Liv. 27.4.10. Livy  –​like Justin  –​is mistaken in identifying Arsinoe III as ‘Cleopatra’. Livy considers probably that ‘Cleopatra’ was the dynastic name of all the Ptolemaic queens. 12 See Champion (2015). 13 3Macc. 1.1 and 1.4. 14 Plb. 5.83. This act of public speaking by the queen at the battlefield is quite unique in the history of Hellenistic queens; see Bielman Sánchez (2012), 53–​5. 15 Plb. 15.25a.9:  Περὶ δὲ τῆς Ἀρσινόης, ἀνανεούμενοι τινὲς μὲν τὴν ὀρφανίαν αὐτῆς, ἔνιοι δὲ τὴν ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἐν τῷ ζῆν ὕβριν, ἣν ὑπέμεινε, καὶ τὴν αἰκίαν, σὺν δὲ τούτοις τὸ περὶ τὴν τελευτὴν ἀτύχημα. Transl. W. R. Patton, rev. F. W. Walbank and Chr. Habicht, LCL. 16 An ‘opening protocol’ is a formal preamble required for all juridical acts or commercial transactions conducted in the Ptolemaic kingdom. It must contain the name(s) of the ruler(s) current at the time the document was written.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 91 17 Concerning the reorganisation of the dynastic cult at this time, see Minas (2000), 107–​12. See also Joliton (forthcoming). This indicates that all of the documents containing the epithet ’Philopator’ in association with the king or the queen can be dated after 216/​5 BC E . 18 See, for example, P. BM 10830 = P. BM Andrews 3 or P. Hawara 7a and b. Cf. Andrews (1990), 25–​8, no 3 et pl. 8, 11–​13; Lüddeckens (1998), 77–​81. 19 See n. 18 above. 20 P. Hawara 7b bis, 8b, 9a and b in Andrews (1990), 90–​3, 98–​103, and 104–​12. 21 P. Hauswaldt 3 = P. Berlin 11330 (regnal year 2 of Ptolemy III); P. Eleph. Dem. 12 = P. Berlin 13554 (regnal year 3 of Ptolemy III); P. BM Reich 10079 B-​C = P. BM 10079 b-​ c, l. 6–​7 and 12–​13 (regnal year 17 of Ptolemy III); P. Eleph. Dem. 5 = P. Berlin 13529 (regnal year 23 of Ptolemy III); P. Eleph. Dem. 7 = P. Berlin 13513, l. 8–​9 (regnal year 23 of Ptolemy III); P. Lille Dem. I 29, l. 5 and 27 (regnal year 24 of Ptolemy III); P. Eleph. Dem. 4 = P. Cairo III 50163 + P. Berlin 13527 (regnal year 25 of Ptolemy III); P. Eleph. Dem. 11 = P. Berlin 13535 + 23677, l. 3 (no datation). See Cenival (1972), 3–​38; Manning (1997), 45–​52, no 3; Martin (1996), 360–​5; Spiegelberg, (1908), 16–​21 and pl. III, IV, VI; Vleeming (1998), 155–​70 and pl. IX. 22 Under the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, Arsinoe II is never mentioned in the opening protocols. She is cited in the text of hymns dedicated to her, tȝnṯr.t mr-​sn, ‘Thea Philadelphos’, and in the official title for her canephora. The queen did not carry the title of Pharaoh in the feminine form. See P. Phil. Dem. 14 tp 16 or P. Lille Dem. I 12 à 20 in El-​Amir (1959), 61–​76, no XIV–​XVI and pl. 14, 20–​23; Sottas (1921), 37–​41, no 12–​20 and pl. IV-​VII. 23 During the Syrian campaign of Ptolemy III Euergetes, Berenice II assumed the royal power during the king’s absence; this fact is testified by the coins struck at that period. See Herklotz (2000), 55–​6; Hölbl (2001), 46–​7. 24 The Raphia Decree is part of a corpus specifically concerned with synodic decrees. These constitute the transcription, on stone in two or three languages (Greek, hieroglyphic, and sometimes demotic), of the decisions taken during the synods; since the reign of Ptolemy III Euergetes, the king had summoned the priests from all over Egypt for meetings. On this subject, see Nespoulous-​ Phalippou (2015). 25 The stele from Tod (inventory number 257), the Memphis stele (CG 31088 a), and the stele from Pithom (Tell-​es-​Maskhoutah) (CG 50048). Concerning the Raphia Decree, see Bernand (1992), no 12 to 14; Gauthier et al. (1925); Huss (1991), 189–​ 208, notably no 8a-​c; Simpson (1996), 242–​57; Thissen (1966); Clarysse (2000), 42–​3, and the recent study by Preys (forthcoming). 26 This information is conserved in the demotic version on the Pithom stele. For the French translation of the complete document, see Bernand (1992), n° 12–​14. 27 The representation of the king on horseback, ready to spear the enemy, as specified by the decree, is an innovation in the portrayals of the king, notably among the upper registers of steles with trilingual decrees. See Thissen (1996), 71–​3. 28 The Memphis stele is in the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, Cairo: CG 31088. 29 See also the image of Berenice II behind Ptolemy III Euergetes in the upper register of the stele CG 22186, one of the examples of the Decree of Canopus (March 7, 238 BC). See Kamal (1904), pl. LIX. 30 Concerning the mention of Arsinoe III in the Raphia Decree, see Simpson (1996), 242, l. 24 M; 252, l. 8 M and S and l. 13 M, Q and S. For the mention of Berenice II in the Canopus Decree, see Simpson (1996), 224, l. 13 T or p. 232, l. 1 H and T.

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92  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton 31 See, for example, Bernand (1989), n° 307; Bernand (1977), n° 77 and 84; OGIS 83 and 729, etc. 32 From Cyrene: SEG 18.732 and 18.733; from Cyprus: Pouilloux et al. (1987), n° 74, and OGIS 84; from Thera: IG XII 3.1389 and I. Cret. III. IV.18; from Lesbos: IG XII Suppl. 122. 33 See Pernin (2014), n° 27, who provides the complete bibliography prior to 2014. 34 Concerning Arsinoe’s letter, see Roesch (2007–​2009), vol. IV no 152. Concerning Ptolemy IV’s letter, see Roesch (2007–​2009), vol. IV, n° 153. For both documents, see Knoepfler (1996), 141–​67. 35 Schachter (2015), 351–​2; the article supports and confirms the previous interpretation by the same author:  Schachter (1961), 67–​70. This interpretation by A. Schachter has been questioned by Guittet (2012), 82–​7, but Guittet’s proposi­ tion is –​in the present authors’ opinion –​less convincing than that of A. Schachter. 36 Pausanias 9.31.1. For the interpretation of the monument as Arsinoe II’s statue, see Moggi (2010). 37 Schachter (2015), 351. 38 The lease of the sacred land bought with Ptolemaic funds started under the Thespian archon Philon, who seems to have been in office during the mandate of the federal archon Lykinus, which was most likely between 211 and 209 BC. Knoepfler (1996), 141–​67, has shown that the foundation date for the quinquennial contest of the Mouseia was between 230 and 220 B CE , but that the festival was reorganised a few years later, in association with the introduction of an annual thymelic competition. The donation by Arsinoe III in favour of the Mouseia is probably in relation to this reorganisation of the Mouseia, which possibly dates from around 215–​210 BC E . 39 Petrakos (1997), n° 427 and n° 175. The date for the statue is provided by the mention of the federal archon Dionysius, active between 221 and 217 BC. 40 IG IX.12.202. 41 IG XII 5.481. For the identification of the ruler, see SEG 59.928. 42 Höghammar (1993), n° 63 (SEG 43, 561). 43 Höghammar (1993), n° 2 (SEG 33, 674). For the dedicator, see Stambolides (1982), 297–​310. 44 I. Ephesos II.199. 45 Frisch (1975), n° 44. 46 Walker et al. (2001), 76–​7 n° 56. 47 The ‘scenes of reception of royal power’ are specific to Egyptian temples: the ruler or the ruling couple is portrayed receiving the symbols for royalty, that is, the long years of their reign or their godly titles, from the tutelary gods of each of the sanctuaries. These scenes have been studied by Preys (2015), 149–​84. 48 This study is based on V.  Joliton’s conference paper titled ‘Arsinoe III dans les temples ptolémaïques, la légitimation d’une dynastie hellénistique’, presented at the international workshop ‘Les cultes aux rois et aux héros dans l’Antiquité. Continuités et changements à l’époque hellénistique’, held 10–​12 May 2017, at the University of Lausanne. 49 Cauville (1989), 56. The other two attestations are scenes evoking the king’s ancestors in place at the moment when the reliefs were carved. Cf. Edfou IX, pl. XXXVI a (left), the west stairway chamber, north wall, first register; Doorway of the Euergetes, pl. 18, external lintel of the pylon from the Karnak temple of Khonsu, upper register of the east side.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 93 50 On the chronology of the construction and decoration of the temple of Horus, at Edfu, see Cauville et al. (1984), 31–​55. 51 Derchain (1962), 31–​65. 52 Kaper (1995), 99–​114; Thiers (1997), 582–​3; Traunecker (1991), 84. 53 The wabet, which can be translated as the ‘pure room’, was a special room of the temple, reserved for the New Year’s festival, one of the most important ceremonies on the Egyptian religious calendar. For the festival and associated activities, see Alliot (1959), 303–​433; Daumas (1982), col. 466–​72; Fairman (1954), 165–​203, particularly  183–​9. 54 Edfou IX, pl. XIII b. On the subject, read Alliot (1959), 163. 55 For a detailed study, see Joliton (forthcoming). 56 Winter (1978), 153. 57 Some authors have interpreted this gesture, whose meaning is still somewhat vague, as one of veneration; others have seen it as a protective gesture or even sometimes as a salutation. See Chassinat (1935–​1938), 513; Grenier (1994), 250 and 254; Minas (2005), 141; Traunecker (2013), 186. 58 For a more detailed study on the queen’s clothing in these scenes, see Preys (2015),  170–​1. 59 The first scene is situated on the register on the east wall of the southern side of chamber III in the temple, and the second appears on a loose stone block currently sitting in front of the same sanctuary. Cf. SERaT Datenbank no 340053 and 340055. An identical scene showing the queen alone, making an offering to a god, has been identified at the Pantheon of Thebes at Qasr el-​Ghueita. The dates of the other reliefs from this site suggest that it is from the reign of Ptolemy IV; thus, another time we find Arsinoe III alone facing the gods. Unfortunately, the poor state of conservation of the bas-​relief does not permit a positive identification identification. Cf. SERaT Datenbank no 873342. 60 Hölbl (2003), 93–​4; Minas (2005), 143–​4. 61 3Macc.1.4; Plb. 5.83.1.3, see supra n. 13 and 14. 62 See infra part Historical reality and marital crisis. 63 On this point, see Joliton (forthcoming). 64 See supra n. 7. 65 Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Ptolemy IV’, n. 9. 66 Plb. 15.25a. 67 For the subsequent career of Agathokles and his dismal end: Plb. 15.26a-​35. 68 See infra n. 79. 69 Plb. 15.26a. See infra n. 73. 70 Bennett (2001–​2012), s.v. ‘Ptolemy IV’, n. 9. 71 This is what ensued after the death of Ptolemy V Epiphanes in 180 BC: Cleopatra I became the guardian of her young son and established a conjoint reign with him. See Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015a), 1–​29. 72 Huss (2001), 475. 73 Plb. 15.26a.1: ἐξουσίαν ἔσχε μηνῦσαι τὴν πρᾶξιν καὶ σῶσαι τὰ κατὰ τὴν βασιλείαν (…), πάντων ἐγένετο τῶν ἐπιγενομένων κακῶν αἴτιος, μετὰ δὲ τὸ συντελεσθῆναι τὸν φόνον ἀνανεούμενος καὶ πρὸς πολλοὺς οἰκτιζόμενος καὶ μεταμελόμενος ἐπὶ τῷ τοιοῦτον καιρὸν παραλιπεῖν, etc. Transl. W. R. Patton, rev. F. W. Walbank and Chr. Habicht, LCL. 74 Plb. 15.25a.9. 75 Plb. 15.25a.9, transl. W. R. Patton, rev. F. W. Walbank and Chr. Habicht, LCL.

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94  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton 76 Cf. Lefebvre (2009), 91–​101. 77 Thus Will (1982), 108 (Arsinoe was repudiated for Agathokleia); Hölbl (2001), 127 (marriage of Arsinoe III and Ptolemy IV), 128 (Ptolemy IV under the influence of Agathokleia), 135 (murder of the queen Arsinoe III). Only Huss (2001), 465, proposes to reinterpret the union between Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe III in light of the negative portrayal of the king established by Polybius. 78 Just., 30, 1, 7–​8. 79 John of Antioch, FHG IV.558 F54:  Ὄτι Πτολεμαίου {Ἀγαθόκλειαν} τήν ἑαυτοῦ γυναῖκα ἐκβαλόντος καὶ Ἀγαθοκλείᾷ μιᾷ τινι τῶν ἐταιρίδων συναφθέντος, εἶτα τελευτήσαντος Πτολεμαιίου, ἡ Ἁγαθόκλεια Ἀρσινόην διαφθείρει δόλῳ· καὶ ταύτης σὺν τοῖς βασιλείοις διαφθαρείσης, πολλῆς τε ταραχῆσης ἐντεῦθεν Αὶγυππίοις ἀναφθείσης. ‘Ptolemy repudiated his own wife and joined together with Agathokleia, a courtesan. Then, after the death of Ptolemy, Agathokleia put Arsinoe to death by trickery. And when the latter disappeared, consequently the royal regime (?) also fell, which was followed by an immense rebellion that blazed among the Egyptians’. Transl. A. Bielman. 80 καὶ σῶσαι τὰ κατὰ τὴν βασιλείαν (‘and save the kingdom’): Plb. 15.26a.1. For the whole passage, see supra n. 73. 81 Concerning the repudiation of Hellenistic queens, see infra Chapter 10. 82 Justin, in particular, has the habit of presenting in a positive light only women of royal rank who respected male authority, even if they were victims of the men around them, cf. Bartels (2016) and Carney (2000), 137–​8. 83 On the couple Cleopatra II-​Ptolemy VIII, see Bielman Sánchez et  al. (2015b), 191–​392; Bielman Sánchez (2017), 84–​114. 84 Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 185–​6. 85 On the couple Ptolemy VIII and Cleopatra II between 145 and 132 B CE , see Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 191–​271. 86 For the stages of the civil war, see Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 274–​340. For the relations between Cleopatra II and the governors of Cyprus, see Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 401–​16. 87 For ex. Diod. 34/​35.14. 88 Just. 38.8.13-​14; Diod. 34/​35.14; Val. Max. 9.2.ext.5. 89 A detailed analysis of these literary sources confronted with the documentary sources is proposed by Bielman Sánchez (2017), 84–​114.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 95 Bernand A. (1989) De Thèbes à Syène. Paris: CNRS. Bernand A. (1977) Pan du désert. Leiden: Brill. Bernand A. (1992) La prose sur pierre dans l’Egypte hellénistique et romaine. Paris: CNRS. Bielman Sánchez A. (2012) “Quand des reines transgressent les normes, créent-​elles l’ordre ou le désordre?”. Lectora 18, 51–​70. Bielman Sánchez A. (2017) “Stéréotypes et réalités du pouvoir politique féminin. La guerre civile en Egypte entre 132 et 124 av. J.-​C.”. EUGESTA 7, 84–​114. Bielman Sánchez A. and Lenzo G. (2015a) “Réflexions à propos de la régence féminine: l’exemple de Cléopâtre I”. Studi ellenistici 29, 1–​29. Bielman Sánchez A. and Lenzo G. (2015b) Inventer le pouvoir féminin: Cléopâtre I et Cléopâtre II, reines d’Egypte au IIe s. av. J.-​C. Bern: Peter Lang Carney E. (2000)Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman:  University of Oklahoma Press. Cauville S. (1989) “La chapelle de Thot-​Ibis à Dendera édifiée sous Ptolémée Ier par Hor, scribe d’Amon-​Rê”. BIFAO 89, 43–​66. Cauville S. and Devauchelle D. (1984) “Le temple d’Edfou: étapes de la construction. Nouvelles données historiques”. RdE 35, 31–​55. Cenival Fr. de (1972) “Les associations religieuses en Égypte d’après les documents démotiques”. BiÉtud 46, 3–​38. Champion C. B. (2015) “Livy and the Greek Historians from Herodotus to Dionysius: Some Soundings and Reflections”. In Mineo B. (2015) A Companion to Livy. Oxford/​Malden MA: Wiley Blackwell, 190–​203. Chassinat E. (1935–​ 1938) “Deux bas-​ reliefs historiques du temple d’Edfou”. In Mélanges Maspéro I/​2, MIFAO LXVI, 513–​23. Clarysse W. (2000) “Ptolémées et temples”. In Valbelle D. and Leclant J. (eds) (2000) Le décret de Memphis. Colloque de la Fondation Singer-​Polignac, à l’occasion de la célébration du bicentenaire de la découverte de la Pierre de Rosette. Paris:  De Boccard,  41–​62. Daumas Fr. (1982) Lexikon der Ägyptologie IV. Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz, col. 466–​ 72, s.v. “Neujahr”. Derchain Ph. (1962) “Un manuel de géographie liturgique à Edfou”. ChronEg XXXVII/​73,  31–​65. El-​Amir M. (1959) A Family Archive from Thebes. Demotic Papyri in the Philadelphia and Cairo Museums from the Ptolemaic Period. Cairo:  General Organisation for Govt. Print. Offices. Fairman H. W. (1954) “Worship and Festivals in an Egyptian Temple”. BJRL 37, 165–​203. Frisch P. (1975) Die Inschriften von Ilion (Inschriften aus Kleinasien 3). Bonn: Habelt. Gauthier H. and Sottas H. (1925) Un décret trilingue en l’honneur de Ptolémée IV. Le Caire: IFAO. Grenier J.-​Cl. (1994) “Deux documents au nom de ‘Césarion”. In Berger C., Clerc G., and Grimal N. (eds) Hommages à Jean Leclant III (BiÉtud, 106/​ 3). Le Caire: Imprimerie de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 247–​54. Guittet Ph. (2012) “Arsinoé, Thespies et Orchomène de Béotie. Un type monétaire régional?”. Bulletin de la société française de numismatique 67, 82–​7. Herklotz Fr. (2000) “Berenike II. Königin und Göttin”. In Lohwasser A. (ed.) (2000) Geschlechtforschung in der Ägyptologie und Sudanarchälogie. Beiträge eines Kolloquiums für Sudanarchölogie und Ägyptologie der Humboldt-​ Universität zu

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96  Anne Bielman Sánchez and Virginie Joliton Berlin (8.5. und 19.6.1999). IBAES II. online: http://​www2.hu-​berlin.de/​nilus/​net-​ publications/​ibaes2/​index.html,  43–​61. Höghammar K. (1993) Sculpture and Society. A  Study of the Connection between the Free-​Standing Sculpture and Society on Kos in the Hellenistic and Augustan Periods (Boreas. Uppsala Studies in Ancient Mediterranean and Near-​Eastern Civilisations, 23). Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis. Hölbl G. (2003) “Ptolemäische Königin und weiblicher Pharao”. In Bonacasa N. et  al. (eds) Faraoni come die, Tolemei come faraoni. Atti del V Congresso Internazionale Italo-​ Egiziano, Torino, Archivo di Stato  –​8–​ 12 dicembre 2001. Torino/​Palermo: Museo Egizio,  88–​97. Hölbl G. (2001) History of the Ptolemaic Empire. London/​New York: Routledge. Huss W. (1991) “Die in ptolemaiischer Zeit verfassten Synodal-​Dekrete der ägyptischen Priester”. ZPE 88, 189–​208. Huss W. (2001) Aegypten in hellenistischer Zeit. München: Beck. Joliton V. (forthcoming), “Arsinoé III dans les temples ptolémaïques, la légitimation d’une dynastie hellénistique”. In Lenzo G., Nihan Ch., and Pellet M. (eds) Les cultes aux rois et aux héros dans l’Antiquité : continuités et changements à l’époque hellénistique. (Orientalische Religionen in der Antike). Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Kamal A. Bey (1904) Stèles ptolémaïques et romaines (CGC) II. Le Caire: IFAO. Kaper O. E. (1995) “Doorway Decoration Patterns in the Dakhleh Oasis”. In Kurth D. (ed.) 3.Ägyptologische Tempeltagung Hamburg, 1.-​5. Juni 1994. Systeme und Programme der ägyptischen Tempeldekoration. ÄAT 33,1, 99–​114. Knoepfler D. (1996) “La réorganisation du concours des Mouseia à l’époque hellénistique: esquisse d’une solution nouvelle”. In Hurst A. and Schachter A. (eds) (1996) La montagne des Muses. Genève: Droz, 141–​67. Lefebvre L. (2009) “Ptolémée IV et la tradition historiographique”. ENIM 2, 91–​101. Lüddeckens E. (1998) Demotische Urkunden aus Hawara. Stuttgart: Steiner. Manning J.G. (1997) The Hauswaldt Papyri. A Third Century B.C. Family Dossier from Edfu. Sommerhausen: G. Zauzich. Martin C.J. (1996) “The Demotic Texts”. In Porten B., Farber J. J., Martin C. J., and Vittman G. (eds) (1996) The Elephantine Papyri in English. Three Millennia of Cross-​Cultural Continuity and Change. Documenta et Monumenta Orientis Antiqui. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 360–​5. Minas M. (2000) Die hieroglyphischen Ahnenreihen der ptolemäischen Könige. Ein Vergleich mit den Titeln der eponymen Priester in den demotischen und griechischen Papyri (AegTrev, 9). Mainz: von Zabern. Minas M. (2005), “Macht und Ohnmacht. Die Repräsentation ptolemäischer Königinnen in ägyptische Tempeln”. APF 51, 127–​54. Moggi M. (2010) Pausania. Guida della Grecia. Libro IX. La Beotia. Milano: Mondadori. Nespoulous-​ Phalippou A. (2015) Ptolémée Épiphane, Aristonikos et les prêtres d’Égypte. Le Décret de Memphis (182 a.C.). Édition commentée des stèles Caire RT 2/​3/​25/​7 et JE 44901 (CENiM, 12). Montpellier: ENIM. Ogden D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death: The Hellenistic Dynasties. London: Duckworth/​Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Pernin L. (2014) Les baux ruraux en Grèce ancienne. Lyon:  Maison des sciences de l’homme. Petrakos B. (1997) Hoi epigraphes tou Oropou. Athens: Archaiologikè Etaireia.

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Marital crises or institutional crises? 97 Pouilloux J., Roesch P., Marcillet-​ Jaubert J., and Darmezin L.(1987) Testimonia Salaminia. 2, Corpus épigraphique (Salamine de Chypre vol. 13). Paris: De Boccard. Preys R. (2015) “Roi vivant et roi ancêtre. Iconographie et idéologie royale sous les Ptolémées”. In Zivie-​Coche Chr. (ed.) (2015), Offrandes, rites et rituels dans les temples d’époques ptolémaïque et romaine. Actes de la journée d’études de l’équipe EPHE (EA 4519) «Égypte ancienne: Archéologie, Langue, Religion » Paris, 27 juin 2013 (CENiM 10). Montpellier, 149–​84. Preys R. (forthcoming) “Le culte des Ptolémées dans les temples égyptiens: les décrets royaux et la décoration des temples”. In Lenzo G., Nihan Ch., and Pellet M. (eds) Les cultes aux rois et aux héros dans l’Antiquité :  continuités et changements à l’époque hellénistique. (Orientalische Religionen in der Antike). Tübingen:  Mohr Siebeck. Roberto U. (2005) Ioannis Antiocheni Fragmenta ex Historia chronica. Introduzione, edizione critica e traduzione. Berlin/​New York: De Gruyter. Roesch P. (2007–​2009) Les inscriptions de Thespies, édition électronique mise en forme par Argoud G., Schachter A., Vottéro G., publiée sous l’égide de l’UMR 5189–​ HISOMA, 2007–​2009:  http://​www.hisoma.mom.fr/​sites/​hisoma.mom.fr/​files/​img/​ production-​scientifique/​IT%20IV%20%282009%29.pdf Schachter A. (1961) “A Note on the Reorganization of the Thespian Museia”. Numismatic Chronicle,  67–​70. Schachter A. (2015) Boiotia in Antiquity. Selected Papers. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press. Simpson R. S. (1996) Demotic Grammar in the Ptolemaic Sacerdotal Decrees. Oxford: Griffith Institute. Sottas H. (1921) Papyrus démotiques de Lille. Paris: Geuthner. Spiegelberg W. (1908) Demotische Papyrus von der Insel Elephantine I (DemotStud 2). Leipzig: Hinrichs. Stambolides N. (1982) Archaiologika Analecta ex Athenon, 15, 297–​310. Thiers Chr. (1997) Le Pharaon lagide «bâtisseur ». Analyse historique de la construction des temples àl’époque ptolémaïque II, thèse de doctorat inédite, Université Paul Valéry –​Montpellier III. Thissen H. J. (1966) Studien zum Raphiadekret, Meisenheim/​Glan: Hain. Traunecker Cl. (1991) “Observations sur le décor des temples égyptiens”. In Dunand Fr., Spieser J.-​M., and Wirth J. (eds) L’image et la production du sacré. Actes du colloque de Strasbourg (20–​21 janvier 1988). Paris: Méridiens-​Klincksieck, 77–​101. Traunecker Cl. (2013) “Thèbes, été 115 avant J.-​C. Les travaux de Ptolémée IX Sôter II et son prétendu ‘Château de l’Or’ à Karnak”. In Thiers Chr. (ed.) Documents de Théologies Thébaines Tardives (D3T 2) (CENiM 8). Montpellier, 177–​226. Vleeming S. P. (1998) “A Demotic Doppelurkunde”. In Verhoogt A. M.  F. W. and Vleeming S. P. (eds) The Two Faces of Graeco-​Roman Egypt (P.L.Bat 30). Leiden: Brill. Walker S. and Higgs P. (2001) Cleopatra of Egypt. From History to Myth. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Widmer M. (2011), “The Repudiation of Laodice III”. Lecture summarized in the rapport of Coskun A.  “Seleucid Study Day I, 15.08.2011 Exeter”. H-​Soz-​Kult (https://​www.hsozkult.de/​), 27.10.2011. Widmer M. (2016), “Apamé. Une reine au coeur de la construction d’un royaume”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds) (2016) Femmes

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5 The magistrate and the queen* Antony and Cleopatra Marie-​Claire Ferriès

Cleopatra VII, in her ultimate prayer, in words Plutarch attributed to her, said: In death, we are likely to change places; thou the Roman, lying buried here, while I, the hapless woman, lie in Italy […] do not […] permit a triumph to be celebrated over thyself in my person.1 These words attest to the depth of the link between Antony and Cleopatra, which was so close that their fates were exchanged. They appeared as the two faces of a single coin, a power couple. But this symbiosis does not cancel out their dramatic otherness: she stood as a Ptolemaic queen, and Antony, though he was buried in an Egyptian tomb, remained a Roman, even if he was considered a hostis, a magistrate of the Roman Republic. The originality of this power couple came from the fact that they were not leaders of the same state, or even of two similar states. To the contrary, they were allied in their persons, two political systems:  on the one hand, a kingdom centralised for a long time and governed by a monarch considered a divinity, and, on the other hand, a res publica, in which prevailed collegiality and collaborative management of the community and its possessions. Their private link created a bridge between two antithetical meanings of government. In addition, there was a hierarchical connection. Ptolemaic Egypt depended on Rome. Cleopatra reigned only because Gabinius, overriding the recommendations of the Senate, put Ptolemy XII on his throne, which he abandoned when he fled Alexandria. The relationship which bound together Antony and Cleopatra seemed quite different from the union between the queen and Caesar. The latter never showed any sign of willingness to remain in Alexandria; he never gave to his cohabitation with Cleopatra, even if it was patent, any official character. He might, perhaps, let Cleopatra designate her son Kaisar, but he did not make any official proclamation to recognise him as his son (if Ptolemy was born in his lifetime, which is dubious).2 On the other hand, the relationship of the triumvir and the queen extended for a long time, from 41 to 30 BCE, with pauses; it was an official, but non-​legal, union from the perspective of Roman law, and Antony recognised their common children like heirs apparent of

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100  Marie-Claire Ferriès kingdoms on Roman authority. Those Alexandrian Donations created a scandal in Rome because the events of 34 BCE seemed to be an inversion of the legitimate balance of power. My purpose is to clear up the nature of their relationship and to explain both points of view. Cleopatra’s strategy was the clearest, and Augustus used propaganda to blacken Antony’s reputation. However, the reasons why the triumvir remained faithful to a union which exposed him to unpopularity are not so obvious. The exact purposes of each member of this couple are difficult to understand because Antony and Cleopatra staged their own acts using it as a communication medium with the population they ruled.3 It is a trap for interpretation, setting aside the essential motivations of the couple, like the institutions, the material realities, and Antony’s colleagues, competitors, and collaborators. So, it is necessary to keep in mind that Antony was dealing with the Senate and the Roman people, whose legions of veterans were the finest part of his army, and that the seat of his legitimacy was Rome. For her part, Cleopatra did not reign unrestrictedly because the stability of her throne and her authority were based on the acquiescence of the population of Alexandria, on the obedience of her administration both its Macedonian and Egyptian components. The union of Antony and Cleopatra required the increased collaboration of two administrative functions and two political systems, known by each other for a long time, but fundamentally foreign one to another. How did this articulation work? Was it harmonious or not? Did it result from a thoughtful project or from an empiricist practise? The whole history of Antony and Cleopatra has to be understood in the light of the fundamental ambiguity of Roman policy at the end of the Republic. First, we consider whether the balance of power turned out to be an inversion of hierarchies, as Augustus’ propaganda pretended it was. Secondly, we examine how both courts and administrations collaborated. Third, we try to explain the true purpose of this political construction. The question of hierarchy raises the question of the ambiguous status of the free cities and kingdoms as exposed by A.  Suspène. On the one hand, their libertas or eleutheria permitted them to avoid the direct authority of a magistrate and, in legal terms, they were outside the provinces, which were the legal extension of Rome outside of Italy.4 On the other hand, far from being exempt from subordination to Rome and to its local representatives, they had many duties which reminded them that they depended on Roman benevolence. Roman magistrates, in their relationship with those entities, had to make clear, in each case, their way of ruling:  ostentatiously taking care of their privileges, but in fact obtaining from them as much as was possible. The system needed a subtle diplomacy because too much authority was considered tyranny, too much benevolence weakness. In Antony’s case, his guilty weakness was supposed to have driven him to high treason:  he submitted himself and, in doing so, the Rome that he ruled imperiously, to the fancy of the queen. In short, he appeared a slaver enslaved. The motive is well known and offered too much to the polemic to be fair. The tale was

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The magistrate and the queen 101 so simplistic that it appeared to be nothing else than a caricature. Was the balance of power so dramatically inverted? In Antony’s life, Plutarch located the beginning of their passion in Tarsus, in Cilicia, in the spring of 41 BCE ; however, both protagonists had known each other since 55 BC E . Cleopatra, who had followed her father to Rome and then to his eastern exile, was very familiar with Romans and their system of administration. Moreover, she stayed in Rome from 46 to 44 B C E .5 We have to examine carefully the official starting point of their relationship, giving it a political reading distinct from the Ptolemaic propaganda6 or from Octavian’s account. Then we will see that the chronology and the location of the couple’s encounters give indications of the hierarchical relationship and of the intensity of their collaboration. In fact, the meeting in Cilicia must be understood as a resumption of contact between politicians who knew each other in another context and whose balance of power, in a dramatically new world, was to be established on the basis of strength. Both of them had some weaknesses which needed to be hidden as well as arguments to present. Since 44 BC E , Cleopatra was wholly sovereign of her country as far as it was possible for a Roman socius. She even strengthened her place in the court system, as demonstrated by L.  Mooren,7 eliminating her second brother-​ husband. She triumphed at that time over Alexandrian rivalries. However, Ptolemaic kingdom, which had constituted a masterpiece of the new system that Caesar established in order to take control of the Pompeian East, to the detriment of the Senate’s diplomacy and in anticipation of the Parthian war, had suffered from successive reversals of Roman legitimacy in Syria: Dolabella, then Cassius, finally the triumvirs. Cleopatra’s position with Dolabella was less than clear. The queen furnished him some military help with an unfortunate outcome, but at the same time, her governor in Cyprus had openly worked for Cassius. The diversion of legions commanded by Allienus for the benefit of Cassius added to the confusion.8 Inside the kingdom, bad floods have weakened, for a time, the royal authority.9 Finally, Cleopatra restored her authority within through drastic decisions, and Cassius’ strategic necessities prevented him from trusting her kingdom, but the pitiful outcome of the naval raid to help the triumvirs tarnished the image of Alexandrian sea power.10 Those events moved Egypt from the centre of the Roman satellite system to its periphery. Then, Cleopatra had to re-​establish her international position, and the meeting with the new Roman leader was the occasion to demonstrate that her strength was not declining. Antony, for his part, was not in the same position as Caesar in 48 B C E . He eliminated the enemy forces in the East. He was haloed by the glory of Philippi’s victory, and too easily assimilated to Pharsalus. However, he was not his own master because he was collaborating in a collegial system whose relations with other Roman institutions remained to be explored. In addition, he also suffered from the failure of the system elaborated by his mentor, Caesar:  which had been destroyed once, and could be destroyed again.

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102  Marie-Claire Ferriès Finally, and most importantly, he found the East in a worse financial and military situation than after Pharsalus. The consequences of the extraordinary taxation and the disorganisation of commercial networks might have had a greater impact on the real Roman authority under the provincials than a military victory. Antony needed to assume Caesar’s legacy and to institute his own authority in the East. So, he did not rush to the Middle East. The policy he directed during the end of the year 42 and the beginning of 41 B C E should be seen from that point of view. As a magistrate endowed with extraordinary powers, he devoted his time to taking back the provinces, Achaia and Asia, from the Liberators. In both cases, he ostentatiously used clementia. He began the policy of repair on the battlefield of Philippi with regard to the Romans and also cities. That equanimity in no way excluded punishment, as the cities of Asia learned. His behaviour gave useful indications to the diplomacy of the Ptolemaic crown. Cleopatra undoubtedly noted with interest the peculiar care Antony took to redefine cordially the link with the autonomous entities, the free cities, like Athens, or with the relay of provincial power like the koinon of Asia.11 Antony finally came to the Middle East in the second half of 41 B C E . In order to prepare for his meeting with the queen, he had sent to Cleopatra an ambassador, Q. Dellius, whose personality was itself a message, and less than ambiguous: he first belonged to the staff of Dolabella, and then he was forced to transfer to Cassius, and finally he was forgiven by Antony. Should Cleopatra see in this choice a pledge of clementia or a reminder of the disappointing nature of the help she brought to Caesar’s heirs? According to Plutarch, the organisation of the meeting had fallen to Cleopatra, at Dellius’ instigation, so that it appears to have been a premeditation of both parties. After that, Q. Dellius served Antony until Actium, and he was also his ambassador to Herod’s dynasty and to the king of Armenia. He commanded troops as well and finally negotiated the surrender of Amyntas to Octavian. He was a specialist in Oriental courts and could be considered a kind of Talleyrand. If Antony thought he was the underdog in this diplomatic game, he would not have employed Dellius for so long, especially on missions of confidence. The staging was thus prepared by both diplomatic parties in order that neither power would lose face.12 Cleopatra was summoned to provincial territory, which was intended to remind her of her subordination to Rome. She was therefore asked to make a symbolic deditio in fidem. The staging initially pointed to this intention:  Antony was waiting for her at the agora, the political centre of the city, sitting on a curule chair upon a rostrum.13 The great pomp of Roman imperium indicated the intention of questioning her favoured rank. One point for Antony. But Tarsus was not an insignificant choice:14 the city was linked to the myth of Triptolemus,15 whose Farnese Cup16 and the silver patera of Aquileia17 indicated the city’s importance in the programmatic discourse of the dynasty. Antony was far from misunderstanding such mythological allusions. In addition, the meridian course of Cydnus, the river which crosses Tarsus, recalled

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The magistrate and the queen 103 in a reverse way the Nile, the base of the wealth of Egypt and the Ptolemaic power.18 Cleopatra’s travel upriver on a ship tabernacle turned this trip into a monarchical procession. Cleopatra brought with her the symbolism of the Nile and by staying on the ship she maintained the privilege of extraterritoriality. The unfolding apparatus reminded that she had her own legitimacy, in spite of the decisions of the Romans, because she embodied the continuity and the greatness of the Ptolemaic dynasty. She argued that the strength of this tradition could bring to a Roman power that must find, again, a foothold in the region. She was an interlocutor fully controlling her kingdom, unlike Arsinoe IV, whose restoration would be an adventure that the Romans could not afford. One point for Cleopatra. She also managed time very well as a good Hellenistic sovereign. In Plutarch’s view, she let the magistrate wait, obliging him to repeat his formal demands that turned the convocation into an invitation.19 Another point for Cleopatra? It is rather doubtful:  Antony’s agenda was overbooked too, and the choice of the date was probably the result of peculiar negotiations between both courts. However, two anecdotes can suggest, at first glance, that the queen won the battle: the arrival of Cleopatra drained people from the agora, isolating Antony on his rostrum, and then Antony accepted to have dinner on her boat the first day, since he had a superior power.20 Indeed, the order of the dining invitation actually revealed the political hierarchy. If we refer to the diplomatic feasts between Roman leaders, as in 39 BCE for the Misenum agreement, we can see the importance of etiquette: initiative and reciprocity are weighed to a fine scale. For example, at Misenum, to get out of potential stagnation, Antony, Sextus Pompey, and Caesar Octavian had drawn lots for the privilege of the first dinner.21 Moreover, the second day at Tarsus, Antony, according to Plutarch’s account, despite all his efforts, displayed for his own feast a poor pageantry that smelled of the roughneck soldier. This was done on purpose. Antony was familiar with the Hellenistic courts. For example, Archelaus, former commander of Mithridates and husband of Berenice IV, was Antony’s friend and host.22 The latter was already surrounded by an organised court, in Rome.23 Like the Ptolemaic dynasty, he controlled very well this meaning of communication as evidenced by his solemn arrival in Ephesus, a limpid message for the Hellenised populations.24 So, choosing to be below the queen and to go after her, he playacted a scene. In the presence of a sovereign, he would not behave as a king because his legitimacy was elsewhere. His brutality put in the spectator’s mind the Roman strength, the Rhomè, and the diffuse threat of a pure and simple annexation. The characters played their role, but the scenario was not simplistic. The meaning of the sketch was on two levels. At first glance, Antony, disturbed by the grace of the queen, renounced the idea of any sanction. On the contrary, he prompted Cleopatra to make a display of splendour, to give proof of the prestige and opulence of the Ptolemaic household, but he managed to have the last word, and so to make the decision. This ostentatious

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104  Marie-Claire Ferriès complacency saved the face of the freedom of the Egyptian kingdom in spite of the rough convocation on Roman ground. Cleopatra’s solemn entry, by sea and river, symbolised Alexandrian naval supremacy subordinated to Rome, and her display of power, offered to Rome, enhanced Antony’s prestige. Moreover, this production prepared hieros gamos, the second level of the discourse. Aphrodite was coming to meet Dionysus. This sacred marriage was the result desired by both sides from the beginning. On the one hand, it is not necessary to explain once more the meaning of homoiosis theo and its rich signification in the Ptolemaic power communication.25 The mystic amplification of a union with Antony was for Cleopatra the way to materialise and ensure the very privileged link between her kingdom and Roman rule. On the other hand, that solution was of some interest for Antony too. He was familiar with such divine identifications. He claimed to be a descendant of Hercules in agnatic lineage26 and of Venus and Mars in female lineage, since he belonged to the elder branch of the Iulii by his mother. So, a long time before the Tarsus’ sacred marriage, he pretended to have a favoured relationship with Venus/​IsisCybele (was he not carried in a chariot pulled by lions after Pharsalus?)27 as well as to be an incarnation of the Roman figure of Dionysus-​Liber.28 The latter divinity was, etymologically and historically, attached to the Libertas, an essential concept in this period of the civil war, an ideal that both camps pretended to preserve with divergent definitions. By the way, he concentrated on his person exceptional virtues and a legitimacy which took its origin from the birth of Rome. The marriage with Cleopatra-​ Isis was the climax of his policy to reorder the Roman East. This new organisation was consolidated through a personal relationship with each entity of this space. Like Pompeius and then Caesar, Antony attached to his own authority a respect due to the Roman power in general. Between 41 and 37 BC E , Antony’s rule in the East, especially in the Levant, came to take a more personal turn in general. For example, since Gabinius, he was the only Roman magistrate who included his portrait on provincial coins, and it was associated with his wives, first Fulvia, and then Octavia and Cleopatra. Another fact which Arnaud Suspène has pointed out, seemed to go a little further: the title of Tarkondimotus of Cilicia, one of the monarchs left in power by the triumvir. The king named himself Philantonios. For the first time, a royal epithet took a construction associating philein and a Roman name. It anticipated Herod’s title of Philokaisaros, he took after after 31 and perhaps before 27 BC E , and all the kings naming themselves philosebastos29. The transformation of the relationship between Rome and the satellite kingdoms into an interpersonal friendship did not shock Roman opinion. It reflected a policy already well established at least since the Pompeian conquest. Moreover, the union of two invincible divinities was a pledge for an efficient alliance at the highest level. This was the Roman point of view. For the Alexandrian crown, the equation Dionysus-​Osiris gave a place to Antony in the dynastic tradition:  Dionysus was the figure of the Ptolemaic king. In a symbolic sense, but without any effect, the hieros gamos made him a sort of

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The magistrate and the queen 105 morganatic prince of Egypt. So, the sacred marriage was an end because it was the conclusion of a pact. But it was also a beginning because it ushered in a period of intense collaboration during the winter 41/​0 and resulted in the birth of twins, Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene.30 Before attempting to understand how circumstances influenced this dialogue, it is necessary to briefly examine the long stay which Antony made in Alexandria during winter 41 BCE ; this stay was representative of this new relationship. Antony was then the host of the queen and he complied with the rituals of the court. More precisely, the court bent to his will because Cleopatra organised all the entertainment around him. The birth of the thiasos of amimetobioi was the most famous example of the complacent Ptolemaic court, and it also shows Antony’s intention to play a part in the power games in Alexandria, provided he still had the leading role.31 As can be seen in Roman courts as well as in Taranto’s meeting between Octavian and Antony, the various jokes had an agonistic dimension and were considered an omen. They indicated the exact scale of the authority and provided also a figurative way of delivering political messages.32 In this play, Antony played two opposite roles. For the people of Alexandria, he wanted to express his authority in symbolic terms in order to mitigate its weight. This tactic did not mislead the Alexandrians, however, who evoked both masks of the Imperator, the tragic one for the Romans, the comic one for themselves; this Janus appeared as both faces of a single power, whose potential danger they did not forget. Indeed, Antony’s enduring presence in Alexandria revived the threat of increasing intervention by the Romans in internal affairs. According to the account of the author of Bellum Alexandrinum, in 48 BCE, the rebellion against Caesar and Cleopatra was caused by the fact that the people of Rome were endeavoring by degrees to assume the possession of Egypt; […] that Caesar was now among them with a considerable body of troops, nor had they gained any thing by Pompey’s death; that Caesar should not prolong his stay; that if they did not find means to expel him, the kingdom would be reduced to a Roman province.33 The destruction of a part of the city for the war of winter 48/​7 did not leave good memories for the Alexandrians. So, in that light, we can understand well the warning of the smoked herring fishing scene. Cleopatra organised a fishing party and Antony, intending to outclass the other fishers, cheated: some of his servants dived into the lake to put a fish on his hook. But Cleopatra ordered a slave to put a smoked herring on Antony’s hook instead of a fresh one. His cheating uncovered, Antony seemed downcast and Cleopatra said pleasantly: Imperator, hand over thy fishing-​rod to the fishermen of Pharos and Canopus; thy sport is the hunting of cities, realms, and continents.34

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106  Marie-Claire Ferriès Antony agreed, laughing. Far from being a child’s game, the joke expressed a moral, and it furnished the occasion to show the Roman leader the limits of his power in Egypt. Cleopatra and Ptolemy XV were confirmed as the masters of Egypt provided they recognised the superiority of the imperator and they supported his hegemonic policy elsewhere than in the Ptolemaic sphere. Elsewhere, he was a conquering imperator (the tragic mask), but in Alexandria, he was a friend and host imperator of the Ptolemaic crown (the comic mask). This pleasant tale was told  –​and maybe invented  –​for the Alexandrian court and people. But when it was reported to another public, the Roman one,35 the damage done to Antony’s reputation was considerable. The closeness of their own entourage during the phases of the couple’s common life must have been a thorny question. The famous anecdote known as “the bet of the pearl” testified that, in 37 B C E , both courts were quite distinct. Antony first treated Cleopatra to dinner, and then the queen invited him back the day after.36 Reciprocal banquets proved that they lived separately in two places, so each of them had to go to the palace of the other to dine with their escort and procession. Indeed, both courts coexisted but did not merge. This was the normal organisation for a Roman magistrate staying in Alexandria: Antony, like Caesar, did not live in the royal palace but with his troops, perhaps in Pharos. However, the construction of the mole of the Timoneion and its small palace in front of the Palace district, separated from the city by a long embankment, easy to defend, revealed Antony’s will to maintain a significant distance between their entourages and with the city, even in the final period.37 In this organisation, banquets and associations like thiasoi were the modalities through which both circles mingled.38 In a way, the banquet was a common space where each one could deal with the common affairs on an equal footing and in perfect transparency. In that light, the Geminius affair in 32 BCE can be understood better. This emissary of the remaining Roman supporters of Antony had the mission to convince his leader to repudiate Cleopatra because of the catastrophic impact of this union on Roman opinion. But he failed to meet Antony in private. He was only allowed to see him during the banquets, and he had no way to avoid a public declaration of the motives of his embassy. Did this symbolise the carefree life of Antony? Not at all: it was a demonstration of his loyalty to the queen, who also expressed her satisfaction at seeing the matter treated openly: “you did well Geminius to speak before you are tortured”.39 Court life and married life therefore appeared as forms in which Antony and Cleopatra described their collaboration. It remains, in the last part of this chapter, to understand the real nature of their agreement and the aim they pursued. The couple Antony and Cleopatra was based on a thought and a calculated contractual political relationship. It was a political construction to express the favoured relations between the Ptolemaic kingdom and the Triumvirate. The main reproach his opponents addressed to Antony was his excessive leniency towards the queen. From a Roman point of view, Antony betrayed his patria

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The magistrate and the queen 107 by giving up Roman property to the Ptolemaic crown; that was the most serious stain on his memory. Antony was warned of the perils of this policy. Since he was aware of it, he only answered to his detractors, but he never gave up this union. Why? The first point to explore is the sense and the successive steps of his donation’s policy. Between 41 and 37 BC E , in spite of the birth of their twins, Antony and Cleopatra never met. At the end of 37 B C E , a second encounter was planned. Antony summoned Cleopatra to Syria. This meeting was fruitful for the queen, who was gratified by a significant enlargement of her kingdom:  Cyprus, Coelesyria, and a part of Cilicia. At the same time Antony began to build his dynastic project since the twins, Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene, were recognised by him. Antony and Cleopatra briefly renewed a common life, while he fathered their third child. Contrary to appearances, the price of this alliance was not so outrageous as sources have alleged. Far from being an isolated act, this deal with the queen appeared as one of the many measures taken in the course of the year 37 by the triumvir in order to protect his rear on the eve of the ambitious Parthian war. Moreover, in this set of decisions, the most important was not taken in Syria but in Italy, in Taranto,40 where the triumvirate pact was strengthened. It was the same ambassador, Fonteius Capito,41 who negotiated both agreements: in Taranto’s conference, because he was related to both parties by a deep friendship to Antony and by adfinitas to Octavian, and in Alexandria because he had been a fair messenger. Before coming to Syria, Antony had settled in Athens and in Asia the questions of the Roman Eastern provinces. In this new geopolitical balance, the most important parts were provinces and cities. Governors and legates were not left to the free choice of the Senate and the people but peculiarly dispatched by Antony. For example, in Syria, he left the consular L. Munatius Plancus, formerly Caesar’s supporter, with a political and military scope that made him a valuable interlocutor for the queen as much as a watchful guardian of the interests of Rome. Through the deal with Cleopatra, Antony completed a vast reorganisation of Roman rule from the Pontus to the Nile, via the Macedonia region. In this context, Antony gave to Cleopatra the first rank among the friend kings. Then, he sent her back to Egypt. But she was endorsed with the responsibility of peace in her new sphere. She ruled it in his authority (and through him, Roman authority). The turning point in Antony’s policy was the failure of the Parthian campaign. Antony summoned the queen to go to Leuke Kome, between Beirut and Sidon, in her domain, for the first time, to bring money, food, and clothing to his army. Antony’s impatience and Cleopatra’s delay found a good explanation in the critical situation of the Roman army and in the difficulties of a heavily loaded fleet in full mare clausum. Indeed, Antony was at a crossroads. The help brought by Cleopatra in this difficult period was the duty of a client, but it was so precious that it inaugurated a new stage in their relationship, and led to Antony staying again in Alexandria. However, he made beforehand a detour in Media, to conclude a prior agreement with the king,

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108  Marie-Claire Ferriès the engagement of Iotape with Alexander Helios, an agreement completed in 33 when Iotape came to Alexandria. The pursuit of dynastic policy by the triumvir enforced his power system in view of the next campaign against the Armenian king, but it also confirmed Cleopatra’s central position in the East. Antony’s turn after his victory over Armenia in 34 B C E made, for a year, Alexandria the capital of the Roman rule in the East. After a solemn arrival, he organised the Donations ceremony there. The enchainment, the form, and the content of those two performances were all criticised in Augustus’ propaganda.42 The relevant points of his attack were: first, the triumphal character of his adventus, which deprived his own citizens of pomp and a tribute (the financial aspect was also important) only due to Rome; second, the fact that the victory which they celebrated came to a relinquishment of Roman territories; third, the gymnasium, where the ceremony took place, because it was a central institution for the Graeculi and a high place of the Ptolemaic pomp and circumstance; fourth, the presence of two golden thrones on a rostrum, a symbol of monarchy and recognition of an equal power, and, of three small thrones, down below, showing Antony’s dynastic construction. But it was a negative interpretation of both ceremonies intended to blacken their initial sense. In Octavian’s report to the Senate and the Roman people, several points could find an inverse interpretation.43 First, the solemn arrival meant to the Alexandrian people that, for the very first time, Antony came into their city not as host of the Ptolemaic crown44 but endowed with his whole authority to obtain crucial decisions. This ceremony did not prevent him from going to Rome to celebrate a Roman triumph. On the contrary, in 32 B C E , the consuls, at his insistence, asked a Senate’s acknowledgement for his acta, the first stage to get a triumph. Further, the organisation of Alexandrian Donations was purely decided by Antony, who disposed of the Ptolemaic capital and symbolic places as an owner. He behaved as an equal ruler as Ptolemy XV and Cleopatra in their own country, an exorbitant claim counterbalanced by the importance of the gifts offered to the queen. The third point was that the ceremony was intended to speak to the Greeks of Alexandria, so he chose the gymnasium. It was not for the Romans. As usual, Antony handled threats and promises skilfully: the increasing Roman intervention in Egypt was balanced by a closer association of mutual interests. But from the Roman point of view, how can this be explained? Antony went to a union which, if not a iustum matrimonium from the Roman perspective, still had the appearance of a marriage,45 and he founded a dynasty which linked to his person Oriental kingdoms, beyond the Greco-​Roman world. Antony’s policy can be explained in the light of the recent history of the country. For the East, 62 B C E was a turning point. The outcome of the Mithridates war and especially the Pompeian annexations modified the relations between Rome and its satellite states:  henceforth, Roman governors with powerful armies were the immediate partners of the kings closely watching them. Kings’ help was often required, and annexation seemed always possible, as demonstrated by the last Seleucid’s fate. Egypt maintained a special rank in this new world

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The magistrate and the queen 109 which appears uncomfortable. Rome theoretically inherited the kingdom but preferred to preserve a dynasty which, from the Roman point of view, was no longer the mistress of her country because, to express it in Roman law terms (admittedly inappropriate), the king held the possessio but not the dominatio of his country.46 The Senate’s thought about Egypt’s individuality was openly expressed in the debate about Ptolemy’s restoration: his kingdom had a geographical specificity; it was, after Rome, the largest economic power of the Mediterranean. Alexandria, an unruly capital, seemed to be another Carthage. Moreover, the Senate was reluctant to interfere in Alexandrian affairs because making Egypt a province appeared dangerous and of too high a price, given that the glory of the success would dramatically trouble the political elite’s balance of power. Restoring Cleopatra’s father in Alexandria, Gabinius, with his young tribune, Antony overcame those careful decisions, so Gabinius paid for his rashness by exile. The wealth of a province or a satellite kingdom did not make the Roman leaders happy. On the contrary, they feared that prosperity would make provinces or kingdoms too powerful, and that consciousness of their power would give them ideas of rebellion. For a power such as Egypt, many guarantees were needed. The fate of Pompey and the war of Alexandria permitted Caesar to see the importance of having a leader of Cleopatra’s calibre for ruling the kingdom. The fact she was a queen also allowed a conjugal relationship which enforced the link between Roman rule and the Ptolemaic country. There was, in this solution, many advantages: first, the alliance went beyond the simple amicitia, and it gave a favoured place to the Egyptian collaboration, in fine. Rome had only an interlocutor which ruled the kingdom for its own benefit. Antony exploited Caesar’s legacy and went further: through the children and the creation of a Romano-​Ptolemaic dynasty, he got the pledge of a long-​lasting collaboration and, as pater familias, he secured himself increasing control over the Egyptian crown. Marriage, therefore, was explained as a form of closer friendship, and the dynastic construction as a desire for a long-​lasting relationship. But the reasons for the territorial sessions and the title Queen of Kings seemed to be a step more difficult to justify. This requires some further explanation. On the one hand, the Lagids, like other allies of Rome, had great difficulties with the Roman Republican management because there are too many interlocutors in Rome. The magistrates changed every year and the competition among the leading elite increased dangerously. Thus, kingdoms and cities were always at the mercy of an agreement’s revision. In short, for them, the ideal was a single and stable ruler, and they thought he had been found with Pompey, and then Caesar.47 On the other hand, the interest of the Romans, like the Orientals, was to have, on decisive questions, the maintenance of order and a constant diplomacy, a unique and reliable interlocutor. In Antony’s case, the vacancy of power occasioned by trips to the West or by military expeditions, could cause

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110  Marie-Claire Ferriès some trouble in his rule. He needed an authorised representative who assumed in his absence the international diplomacy of the East. A Roman magistrate would be a competitor. It would seem better to rely one of the most important Oriental kings, Herod or Cleopatra, to keep in sight the small kings and cities. As Cleopatra was powerful and had a personal interest in assisting Antony’s policy, she received increasing authority, and the title of Queen of the Kings traduced her pivot position, interposing herself between Roman power and allies or foreigners. A remark of Plutarch points to this interpretation.48 He admired Cleopatra’s linguistic abilities and described the queen as dealing directly with Parthian or Ethiopian ambassadors. That Cleopatra spoke the Aramaic language remains doubtful, but this report shows that she normally received embassies, even those of any states hostile in Rome. In the Roman ruling system, it would be inconceivable that she could receive them on her own account. In these audiences, she represented the Roman order in the region. In matters of defence, the analysis of the monetary production of Antony and Cleopatra in the Levant, led by J. Olivier and X. Aumaître, highlighted the importance of the state and military control exercised by Cleopatra on the road from Beirut to Damascus via Chalcis. In this area, she took over pacification and fought brigandage from the tetrarchs of Chalcis. In 41/​0 B C E , Malichus the Nabatean, Antiochus of Commagene, and Lysanias of Chalcis made common cause with the Parthian enemy. In 37 B C E , Antony conferred on her their principalities, a piece of the Nabataean kingdom, taken back from its previous rulers as a reprisal for their pact with the Parthians in 41/​0.49 On the eve of a great expedition against the latter, Antony could not afford to leave such an impending danger at his rear. This solution offered in Rome a single contact person, completely reliable. Moreover, the expedition against Palmyra showed that the control of interior, caravan, or strategic roads was an important concern of Antony’s policy.50 For Cleopatra, this role may have been prestigious and given free rein to her political talents. However, there were some counterparts. Antony, having a patria potestas on their common children, could decide, without taking any notice, the fate of the dynasty. He also had a form of guardianship of Ptolemy XV Caesar (also known as Caesarion), who was at the same time the pharaoh beside his mother.51 Over the last few years of their history, the Ptolemaic dynasty appeared as an extension of his own policy. Increasingly, Antony was at home in Egypt. As gymnasiarchos of Alexandria, he took part in networks of sociability of the Ptolemaic capital, but his political weight, without any equivalence, distorted the relationship. His long stays in the city, the fact that he used at will public places, and that he built his palace in the Ptolemaic capital showed him in a role of master.52 However, this reality was concealed by the absolute lack of his name in the administration of the kingdom. The official acts and texts passed over his role in Egypt in silence. Antony did not need to appear directly in internal questions, and probably did not want that anyway.53 His policy involved acting through the queen. But, in fact, the relationship of the couple reflected the beginning of the control of Egypt by

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The magistrate and the queen 111 Roman rule and, by the way, it might have laid the groundwork for the annexation of Caesar Octavian. The marriage of Egypt to the Roman people was a step towards the transformation into a province. Why did Caesar Octavian not assume Caesar’s and Antony’s legacy in Egypt, like in the other countries of the East? The answer is quite simple: he himself had bound his hands by declaring war on Cleopatra and presenting the marriage as a betrayal of Roman interests. But for him, like his predecessors, Egypt remained impossible to control by the ordinary means of the Roman Republic, because of its economic weight, its particular administration, and its political and religious identity. So, the country had to stay apart from the whole provincial system.54 In Egypt, without a queen acting as a screen, Augustus needed to be a pharaoh, whereas elsewhere he wanted to appear as a magistrate. This duality, very delicate to explain to Roman public opinion, had to remain far from the eyes of the senators and the Senate. To defuse the danger of an attack on his policy –​he was in position to know how easy misinterpretation could be —​he invented an original status of the new pearl of the empire, with a double face, a Roman form to the Romans, a traditional aspect for the natives. The prefect, the prohibition on senators and wealthy knights to stay there were signs of an annexation under close surveillance. Our political and Roman reading of Antony and Cleopatra as a couple has thus left aside all the sentimental and psychological motivations. Maybe wrongly: they probably played a role. However, it seems more interesting to point out that the triumvir Antony could have solid and coldly calculated reasons for uniting his destiny with the queen of Egypt. While historical tradition showed all the advantages of this relation for the last Ptolemaic sovereign, this reconstruction tried to demonstrate that the privileges were a counterpart of a takeover, and that Antony was the main winner of this solution. Thus, the Roman amor, as amicitia, was a way to make pleasant unequal collaboration and to mitigate the inconvenience of a takeover. The marriage was a solution for maintaining the Roman authority over such a vast and complex space. The inhabitants of Tarsus spoke the truth: Cleopatra came to collaborate and to banquet with Antony for the good of the East. The doings of this power couple left to Augustus a reordered space where Roman rule played a role in keeping internal peace. Annexation of Egypt was perhaps not a break so clear as one might think, with the difference being that Augustus won the dowry without the wife and the wedding.

Notes * I am indebted to the participants of the meeting and the Chambery’s monthly seminar of Ancient History for their precious remarks. I am also very grateful to Clément Chillet, who had the patience to review these pages. 1 Plut. Ant. 85.6–​7. Translated by B. Perrin (Loeb Classical Library Edition, vol. 9). Cambridge/​Harvard (1920).

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112  Marie-Claire Ferriès 2 Suet. Caes. 52. 2. Chauveau initially placed Ptolemy XV Caesarion’s birthdate in 47 BC (23 June): Chauveau (1997), 32, but in fine [(1998), 118] he prefers another chronology and thinks that we have to identify Ptolemy Caesarion with the boy born in 45/​4 BCE , founding his conviction on Cicero’s letter (Att. 14. 8.1). Indeed, it seems more likely that the birthday took place during summer 44 BCE because the balance of probabilities (Cicero’s letters, the date of Ptolemy’s access to the epheby, and the ambiguities of Caesar’s will) is in favour of that hypothesis: Eller (2011), 479–​84. 3 Plutarch’s vocabulary often insists on the histrionic character of the meetings (Ant., 26.4; 29.4; 53.5-​10; 56.7-​10). Official banquets were the place where small sketches took place which expressed some political messages (Vell. 2.83.2). 4 Suspène (2010), 37. 5 Chauveau (1998), 47–​51. 6 Here, the term ‘propaganda’ is to be understood only as a strategy of public communication intended to convince a population or a social group of the goodness of a political orientation. 7 Jos. AJ 15.89; Mooren (1985), 217 and 220–​1; Chauveau (1998), 54. 8 Dio 47.31.5. 9 The flooding of the Nile River did not occur during the tenth and the eleventh year of Cleopatra’s reign, (Sen. Nat. 4a.11.16, OGIS 194.10). Chauveau (1998), 56–​7. 10 App. Civ. 4. 74.314; 82.346 and 5.8.32; Chauveau (1998), 58–​9. 11 Plut. Ant. 23.2; 24.1; App. Civ.  5.4–​7. 12 Peremans et al. (1968), n° 14 752 = 14 816; Ferriès (2007), 391 n° 60. 13 Plut. Ant. 26.4. 14 For Antony, Tarsus was also important:  he rewarded it for its heroic defense against Cassius (Dio 47.31.1-​4 and App. Civ. 5.7.30) 15 Strab.14.12. 16 La Rocca (1984). 17 Möbius (1964), 34–​6. 18 Weill-​Goudchaux (2000), 128–​9. Strab. 14.10. 19 Plut. Ant. 26.1; Dio 48.38. 1.  Cassius Dio explained that the first dinner was aboard Sextus’ ship and was proof of his superior power. 20 But we can note that in Alexandria, Cleopatra left to Antony the same priority, which supposed that, in their mutual etiquette, the one staying on the other’s ground had to invite the first. 21 Plut. Ant. 22.3 and 8. 22 Plut. Ant. 3.10; Archelaus had friendly relationship with Gabinius, too (Strab. 17.11) 23 Cic. Phil. 2.58–​59; 13.3. 24 Plut. Ant. 24.4. He wanted to be considered Dionysus Charidotes or Meilichios. Socrates of Rhodes declared that Antony proclaimed himself Neos Dionysos in all the Eastern cities (Athenodor. Tars. 4.148 C = Jacoby, FGrH 2.B, n° 192, 929). 25 Sauron (1994), 232–​3. The homoiosis theo plunged her roots into Platonism, Aristotelianism, and Stoicism. The ‘likeness to a god’ as a way to reach the sovereign Good was developed in Rome by Antony’s contemporaries and it had a political significance. In this regard, the Alexandrian Areius Didymus, who was close to Antony before becoming an adviser to Octavian, made the decisive step, Levy (1990), 50–​65. In the Hellenistic world, many princes and kings assimilated themselves to a god, like Cleopatra’s father. 26 Plut. Ant. 4 .2.

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The magistrate and the queen 113 27 Cic. Att. 10.13.1. (49 BC, May 7th); Plut. Ant. 9.8 and Plin. Nat. 8.55, after Pharsalus. 28 Vell. 2.82.4. 29 Suspène (2009), 47–​8. 30 Their nicknames, Helios and Selene, in other terms, Sol and Luna, did not reflect Ptolemaic habits; they came from Sabine and Roman traditions and reflected Antony’s will to inscribe the twins in a Roman legitimacy: Arnaud (1993), 131–​2. 31 Plut. Ant. 28. 5–​6. Ptolemy’s cook had to keep the meals warm until Antony’s good pleasure allowed the queen and her hosts to banquet. 32 Plut. Ant. 33.2–​5. 33 Bell. Alex, 2–​4. Translated by A. McDevitte and W. S. Bohn (1908). London: Bohn’s Classical Library. 34 Plut. Ant. 29.7. Translated by B. Perrin (Loeb Classical Library Edition, vol. 9). Cambridge/​Harvard (1920). 35 Swain et  al. (2010), 240:  in fact, Antony had three facettes, Dionysus for the Greeks, Osiris for the Egyptians, and a magistrate, triumvir, and imperator for the Romans. 36 Plin. Nat. 9.121; Macr. Sat. 3.17.16. 37 According to Strabo (17.1.9), this palace was built in the last period, after Actium, but Plutarch said that Antony lived there just after Actium and left it during the spring of 30 BC to return to the district of the palace (Ant. 71. 2–​3). This building could be finished in 32 BC; the date of the beginning of the construction site remains uncertain, but it could be argued that the work began, at least, two years earlier. 38 On the organisation of the thiasoi known by the sources (Plut. Ant. 28.2 and 71.4), those of amimetobioi and that of apothanoumenoi, we are scarcely informed. Only two Roman parasitoi endured:  a knight, Albius (Ael. Frag. 222, p.  456; Ferriès (2007), 319 n°  4], and an anonymous personage revealed by an inscription of Alexandria (0GIS, 195; [Ferriès (200)7, 493 n° 144). But, in fact, Dellius was probably part of the first thiasos of amimetobioi [Ferriès (2007), 391 n° 60]. He was expelled from the group around 32 BC. L. Munatius Plancus integrated the thiasos probably in 37 because he arbitrated the challenge of the pearl and during another dinner, he played the role of Glaucus the fisher (Vell. 2.83.2: cum caeruleatus et nudus caputque redimitus arundine et caudam trahens, genihus innixus Glaucum saltasset in convivio; Ferriès (2007), 443 n° 100. It was a play staging Antony and Cleopatra in the respective roles of Dionysus and Ariana, Cresci-​ Marrone (1999), 111–​20. On the Roman side, the thiasos had a variable geometry which was to be representative of the developments of the Antony’s party. What are these associations for, apart from organising banquets to facilitate dialogue between the two circles? They are groups of decision-​making elites to contribute to the public expression of the policy of both leaders. They were at the heart of the arcana imperii, like Plancus and Titius, witnesses of Antony’s testamentary wishes [Ferriès (2007), 252–​6 and 285–​6]. 39 Plut. Ant. 49.2; Ferriès (2007), 415 n° 77. 40 Swain et al. (2010), 237–​8. 41 He was consul in 33 BC. Peremans et  al. (1968), n° 14878; Ferriès (2007), 401–​3 n° 69. 42 Plut. Ant. 55.1.

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114  Marie-Claire Ferriès 43 Plut. Ant. 55. 2.  But no detailed explanation of the ceremony can be found in ancient texts. 44 Unlike it happened during the winter of 41 BC, App. Civ. 5.11.43. 45 Guarino (1980), 103–​4. 46 Suspène (2010), 51. 47 Suspène (2009), 45. 48 Plut. Ant. 27.4-​5: Ethiopian, Persian, Syrian, and ‘Troglodytic’ languages. Some of them, like the so-​called Troglodytic dialect, seemed to be a chimera (its first mention was in Her. 4.183) and the Parthian ambassadors used the Aramaic in their diplomatic exchanges. Did Cleopatra speak fluently Semitic languages, like Aramaic, Syrian, and Hebrew? It remains doubtful. 49 Olivier et  al. (2017), 110–​ 11. Analysis of the mint showed a repartition in Syria: only Antony’s portrait appeared on the coinage of Antioch (RPC I n° 4135), Balanea (RPC I  n°4456), and Marathus (RPC I  n° 4494–​4499); on Ptolemaïs’ coinage, Antony was on the right and Cleopatra on the reverse (RPC I n° 4740–​ 4742), Dora’s showed jugate busts of both rulers (RPC I n° 4752–​4753), but in Chalcis, the queen was the only ruler (RPC I n° 4771–​4773). Since 37 BC, Chalcis used a new Ptolemaic era. There were three administrative statuses: the Roman province (ruled by Antony), territory administered by delegation, and the queen’s domain. 50 App. Civ. 5.9.37-​39 51 Arnaud (1993), 132, notes that Alexander Helios, Cleopatra Selene. and Ptolemy Philadelphus had a special status:  like the Roman Antony’s children they were educated at Octavia’s home, under Augustus’ control and potestas (Octavia was married sine manu). He thinks that this solution means they were recognised by Antony according to Roman law. 52 The so-​called Timoneion was built on a mole in the middle of the harbour booked for the royal family, Strab.17.1.9; Plut. Ant. 71.2. In 30 B CE , Antony’s birthday was celebrated with more ostentation than Cleopatra’s (Plut. Ant. 73.5). It was the greatest honour: in the Ptolemaic calendar, the king’s birthday was the more important date because it symbolised the renewal of the dynasty and the kingdom, Savalli-​Lestrade (2010), 71, 73, and 82–​3. 53 Goyon (1993), 17: ‘L’étranger qu’est Marc Antoine n’a pas à être connu des vrais Égyptiens, pour qui ce que l’on ne peut nommer n’a pas d’existence, surtout les hommes dont on ne sait pas comment ils s’appellent’. 54 Julien (1993), 19–​26. Barbentani (2010), 247–​51.

Bibliography Arnaud P. (1993) ‘Alexandre Helios et Cléopâtre Sélénè, origine et postérité romaines d’un couple cosmique’. In Marc Antoine, son idéologie et sa descendance. Lyon: Société Jacob Spon, 127–​41. Barbantani S. (2010) ‘Idéologie royale et littérature de cour dans l’Égypte lagide’. In Savalli-​Lestrade I. and Cogitore I. (eds) (2010) Des rois au Prince. Pratiques du pouvoir monarchique dans l’Orient hellénistique et romain. Grenoble:  ELLUG, 227–​51. Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds) (2016) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG.

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The magistrate and the queen 115 Chauveau M. (1997) L’Égypte au temps de Cléopâtre: 180–​30 av. J.-​C. Paris: Hachette Littératures. Chauveau M. (1998) Cléopâtre: au-​delà du mythe. Paris: L. Levi. Cresci Marone G. (1999) ‘Orazio, Munazio Planco e il “vecchio del mare” ’. Athenaeum 87, 111–​20. Eller A. (2011) ‘Césarion: controverse et précisions à propos de sa date de naissance’. Historia, 60(4), 474–​83. Goyon J.-​C. (1993) ‘Hors d’Alexandrie, un personnage inconnu des sources égyptiennes: Marc Antoine’. In Marc Antoine, son idéologie et sa descendance. Lyon: Société Jacob Spon,  9–​17. Guarino, A. (1980) ‘Ineptiae iuris romani, IV’, Atti della Accademia Pontaniana, 93–​104. Julien E. (1993) ‘Marc Antoine, le pharaon impossible, Auguste le pharaon obligé‘. In Marc Antoine, son idéologie et sa descendance. Lyon:  Société Jacob Spon,  19–​26. La Rocca E. (1984) L’Età d’Oro di Cleopatra. Indagine sulla Tazza Farnese (Documenti e Ricerche d’Arte alexandrina, V). Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Levy C. (1990) ‘Cicéron et le moyen platonisme: le problème du souverain bien selon Platon’. REL 68, 50–​65. Möbius (1964) Alexandria und Rom. München: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenchaften. Mooren L. (1985) ‘The Ptolemaic Court System’. Chronique d’Égypte 60, 214–​22. Olivier J. and Aumaître H. (2017) ‘Antoine, Cléopâtre et le Levant, le témoignage des monnaies’. In Bricault L., Burnett A., Drost V., and Suspène A. (2017) Rome et les provinces: monnayage et histoire. Mélanges offerts à Michel Amandry. Bordeaux: Ausonius, 105–​22. Peremans W., Van ‘t Dack E., and Mooren L. (eds) (1968)Prosopographia Ptolemaica. Part VI:  La cour, les relations internationales et les possessions extérieures, la vie culturelle, n° 14479–​17250. Louvain: Publications universitaires de Louvain. Savalli-​Lestrade I. (2010) ‘Les rois hellénistiques, maîtres du temps’. InSavalli-​Lestrade I. and Cogitore I. (eds) (2010) Des rois au Prince. Pratiques du pouvoir monarchique dans l’Orient hellénistique et romain. Grenoble: ELLUG, 55–​83. Suspène A. (2009) ‘Les rois amis et  alliés face au Principat:  rapports personnels, représentation du pouvoir et nouvelles stratégies diplomatiques dans l’Orient méditerranéen’. In Christol M. and Darde D. (eds) (2009) L’expression du pouvoir au début de l’Empire. Autour de la Maison Carrée à Nîmes. Nîmes: Errance, 45–​51. Suspène A. (2010) ‘L’empire, le royaume, des territoires inconciliables?’. In Savalli-​ Lestrade I. and Cogitore I. (eds) Des rois au Prince. Pratiques du pouvoir monarchique dans l’Orient hellénistique et romain. Grenoble: ELLUG, 37–​53. Swain H. and Davies M. E. (2010) Aspects of the Roman History 82 BC–​AD 14, a Source-​Based Approach. London/​New York: Routledge. Weil-​Goudchaux G. (2001) ‘Cleopatra’ Subtle Religious Strategy’. In Walker S. and Higgs P. (eds) Cleopatra of Egypt:  from History to Myth. London:  The British Museum Press, 128–​36.

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6 Mark Antony and the women at his side* Ann-​Cathrin Harders

Power and couples? The election of the president of the French Republic in May 2017 was spectacular in several ways:  Emmanuel Macron was the youngest candidate since Napoleon Bonaparte and campaigned with his newly hatched party, La République En Marche!, to become head of state. He was prominently supported by his wife, Brigitte Macron, née Trogneux, who had been his teacher at high school and is 24 years his senior. The difference in age, however, did not so much raise controversy as Macron’s promise to create an office for his wife in case that he should be elected. Macron’s plan for a formal role for La Première Dame de France aimed not only at bringing transparency but above all recognition for a position that is –​not only in France –​undefined, unrewarded, and often unrewarding. Yet, already during his campaign this plan received backlash. It was argued that only the president was to be elected and not his wife, and in an online petition voters vetoed institutionalising this position and providing official funding.1 Up to now the Première Dame has faced the dilemma to be there and subordinate her life to her husband’s office and to represent France at his side, yet in a constitutional sense she does not exist; no law defines her role nor the resources granted to her. In modern republics there seems to be an unspoken and unofficial necessity for a head of state to have a partner, ideally a wife, to co-​represent the state. During a campaign spouses lend a touch of humanity to the candidates; they are “avatars of normality” as Anne Perkins notes in the Guardian: “they exist in a kind of penumbra, sometimes the indeterminate shadow cast by the more important other, sometimes magnifying their strengths and expanding their insights as the backbone and driving force”.2 Although the partner is important to represent and humanise the candidate or office holder, officially he or she is a nonentity. Monarchies, be they ancient or modern, do not seem to have the same problem, as their kings and queens usually are not elected by their subjects and thus not beholden to them when it comes to their consort. Due to a dynastic principle a spouse is a necessity to forge political intra-​as well as interstate alliances and to provide for an heir. A royal consort is (often) recognised by his or her own title and insignia, a specific role and function in

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 117 protocol and ceremonies. To be ruled by a couple seems easier to accept than to elect a couple in the first place. In this chapter, I  turn to Roman society in a period of political strife and change and discuss couple constellations during the transition from an aristocratic-​republican political system to a monocracy. The focus is on Mark Antony, whose four marriages prove to be instructive to explore not only how Roman republican society viewed the relationship between couples and power in general but also especially how different couple constellations corresponded to political development. Whereas his former triumviral colleague, brother-​in-​ law, and then opponent, Octavian, had to create a whole new political system after Actium to incorporate his de facto monarchical powers into an existing republic and took care that no Augusta mirrored his turning into Augustus (Cenerini), Mark Antony did not need to define the role of the woman at his side. Yet, he ingeniously exploited the idea of the couple to promote his interests and represent his power –​which, however, did not happen without altercations.

A republic of power couples Before turning to the case study of Mark Antony, the relationship between power and (marital) couples in Roman society needs to be explored. Power as in potestas was a political and legal concept; it was clearly defined who was able to exercise this power over whom and to what extent. Power was also a gendered concept and an important marker to define masculinity: only a male Roman citizen was able to wield power, potestas, over other citizens. A Roman woman was able to own property and to be “on her own right”, sui iuris, and thus handle her own affairs to some extent. Yet, for larger legal transactions as, for example, drawing up her will, potestas was needed and a woman had to defer to her male tutor to conduct her business. As a woman, she was not able to wield potestas over other free persons, even her own children. She held no translational power that could be transmitted to another generation; rather, she was “the beginning and end of her own familia”.3 But neither would every male have potestas:  on the forum, only elected magistrates were invested with potestas magistratus and were able to exercise coercitio, the authority to compel obedience from their fellow citizens.4 In the domus, the paterfamilias was the only person within the familia who was legally independent and liable; as pater he was the only one with patria potestas, the legal authority over his legitimate children and his wife (if married in manus) as well as the family’s property. Although the term evokes paternity, the position of paterfamilias was not dependent on being a father. It was seen as a legal position which could be claimed by underage boys as well as men unable or unwilling to sire children in wedlock. Furthermore, a man could only become pater once his own pater died; patria potestas was not transferred during the pater’s lifetime. It was therefore possible (though for demographic reasons not probable) that a Roman male would defer to patria

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118  Ann-Cathrin Harders potestas for his whole life, never becoming legally independent and thus a “whole” Roman male himself.5 As already mentioned, paternity was no requirement for becoming a paterfamilias. The same has to be said for marriage; a man did not need to be married in order to be paterfamilias. The term materfamilias, therefore, does not describe a position complementary to the pater. Though some sources use the term exclusively for the wife of the paterfamilias, according to Gellius only a woman who had furthermore contracted a manus marriage and was thus in potestate of her husband was a proper materfamilias. Others use the term synonymously with matrona to describe respectable married women in general.6 Apart from the variety of definitions, it is clear that the materfamilias was not defined by maternity but by her marital status. But whereas a woman as materfamilias was defined as being part of a couple, the paterfamilias was defined neither by his wife nor by paternity.7 Furthermore, if we look at the religious activities and obligations of the paterfamilias within the household, he also acted on his own. He was responsible for monitoring the rites for the dead and protecting the domus from evil spirits. Next to the lares and penates, the genius of the paterfamilias was worshiped and made offerings to. The Juno of the materfamilias, however, was neither included nor did the materfamilias herself take a stipulated part next to the pater to protect the household.8 Though social norms praised concordia between married couples,9 on a legal and sacral level the Roman familia was strangely “uncoupled”. Furthermore, the different types of marriage allowed a certain legal and economic distance, so to speak, between the married couple. By marrying cum manu, the wife entered her husband’s familia and his potestas. A marriage sine manu, on the other hand, implied that the wife legally stayed in her own natal familia. It also meant that she could become legally independent and hold her own property the moment her pater died, whereas at the same time her husband might still be filius familias.10 The consequences of these different forms of marriage were probably irrelevant for the average Roman couple, but among the aristocracy the notion of a legally and especially economically independent wife could prove to be both an advantage and a liability as a socially and economically superior wife might threaten the husband’s authority. Martial wryly remarks that he would not marry a rich wife as he would not become “his wife’s wife”.11 The paterfamilias was an autonomous figure that was clearly not defined by his wife over whom he might not even have legal power. The same, unsurprisingly, can be said for the magistrate. A magistrate’s position and his potestas were not defined by women. Furthermore, a consul’s wife did not have to cope with the same obligations of representing the state as modern First Ladies do. There is a short remark by Cicero in a letter to Atticus where he uses a specific term for a consul’s wife, consularis, and mentions that such a consularis was able to secure special seats at the gladiatorial games for her entourage.12 But apart from this privilege, the wives of the consuls neither took any stipulated part in the ceremonies when their husbands took office nor in their political or

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 119 religious duties.13 The office itself as well as potestas magistratus was an exclusively male affair; the magistrate just like the paterfamilias was an autonomous male figure. The exceptions proving this rule are the flamen Dialis and the flaminica.14 Serving Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the flamen Dialis was the highest-​ranking priest among the flamines. Unlike his colleagues, however, the life of the flamen Dialis was subjected to many restrictions and prohibitions that forced the flamen to constantly pay attention to his duties. Like the Vestals, he was cotidie feriatus, everyday keeping holiday.15 A requirement for this office was being married, namely in manu. The flamen was not permitted to divorce and had to resign his office when his wife died.16 The assistance of the flaminica was essential in the performance of some rites. On other holidays the couple performed complimentary offerings:  whereas the flamen sacrificed a sheep to Jupiter on the ides of every month, the flaminica offered a ram on the nundinae.17 Just like the flamen, the flaminica was subjected to certain rules and had to dress in a certain way, which made flamen and flaminica stand out from other priests, but also from other married couples.18 It is extraordinary that the rites for Rome’s most important god had to be performed by a couple, which made the Greek Plutarch wonder why: Why did the priest of Jupiter resign his office if his wife died, as Ateius has recorded? Is it because the man who has taken a wife and then lost her is more unfortunate than one who has never taken a wife? For the house of the married man is complete, but the house of him who has married and later lost his wife is not only incomplete, but also crippled. Or is it because the wife assists her husband in the rites, so that many of them cannot be performed without the wife’s presence, and for a man who has lost his wife to marry again immediately is neither possible perhaps nor otherwise seemly?19 Plutarch does not give a definite answer but counters this puzzle with another question. It seems that the concept of a “whole household” (oikos teleios) provides the key to understanding this specific priesthood. Modern scholarship stresses how “togetherness and wholesomeness”20 were promoted through this couple who was acting complementarily. Furthermore, the flaminica had to be married in manu, and thus she was legally and sacrally dependent on her husband. Whereas marriage sine manu became the norm during the second and first centuries BC E , flamen and flaminica presented the rare married couple that formed a legal und sacral union and as thus acted on behalf of all Roman households to serve Rome’s highest deity.21 The notion of the couple, of husband and (legally subordinated) wife acting together, thus found a rare, but important, religious expression. Nonetheless, it became harder to find suitable candidates for this office as aristocratic brides would no longer choose manus marriage. The emperor Tiberius, eventually, had to create a legal loophole: a flaminica would transfer in manu mariti only during

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120  Ann-Cathrin Harders the performance of the rites, but would otherwise stay sui iuris.22 The rites thus demanded the presence of a specific couple constellation that no longer existed in real life. To sum up to his point: power in the form of potestas was never defined, performed, or symbolised in the form of a male-​female couple. Whereas the materfamilias was defined by her marital status and thus in relation to a man, a paterfamilias in legal terms was an autonomous male position. Also, magistrates were in no way represented by their wives; there are no ceremonies or situations in which the wife of a consul entered the political stage as part of her husband’s office. Flamen Dialis and flaminica are the only exceptions: this couple symbolically acted on behalf of the res publica –​but like the Vestals, their status was a Roman peculiarity.23 However, Roman society and Roman politics did not work on the clear-​cut concept of potestas alone, but depended on much more amorphous concepts of social power as well, like existimatio, auctoritas, and nobilitas.24 And when it comes to analysing the social fabric that was so important for Roman politics  –​like the web of kinship, friendship, and patronage interlinking the Roman elite with the rest of the populus as well as aristocratic peers to each other25 –​women played an immensely important part. As wives, sisters, mothers, and daughters of Roman aristocrats they established and cultivated these links. Supported by their own fortune and their family connections they took an active part within these networks as agents for their male relatives, and as gatekeepers they provided access to their husbands, sons or brothers.26 Their genealogical prestige was important when it came to matchmaking and was showcased after their death during the pompa funebris where at last a dead woman was presented with the various successful office holders of her family.27 When the means and modes of display of their social power were threatened, as in the cases of the Lex Oppia in 216 or the triumviral taxation in 42 BC E , the matrons famously even crowded the forum and argued for their repeal.28 The many ways and opportunities for Roman aristocratic women to influence and to execute their auctoritas are rarely passed down in our source material. They were acting conspicuously behind the stage, yet it is doubtful that this was a clandestine affair for Romans.29 Rather, it was obvious, important, and necessary to rely on women. The often-​quoted incident of Servilia, mother of Brutus and sister of Cato, who was able to change a senatus consultum30 in 44, might be an example of a woman of extraordinary social and political means, and there were probably not many men who would have been able to achieve this. Yet Cicero, to whom we owe this information, only casually remarks upon Servilia’s political clout and does not seem to be surprised or irritated by this at all. Instead, he rather complained that she interrupted one of his monologues –​and unlike her meddling in the Senate’s decisions, cutting off the former consul was not done at all. The purpose of an aristocratic wife was not confined to running a household and bearing her husband’s children. Of course, Roman women were not

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 121 able to hold high-​ranking elective and appointive political offices alongside their husbands and thus do not fit into the modern concept of a power couple (Hallett).31 But every aristocratic marriage more or less served to cultivate this very special Roman social fabric which generated political clout,32 and thus every wife to a different degree –​depending on her familial and financial resources as well as her individual talents and determination –​was part of such a Roman power couple. Yet the relevance of these couple constellations changed during the first century BCE . Power –​ potestas as well as auctoritas –​ was no longer spread more or less equally within the Roman elite; there was no longer an annual redistribution of honores following the elections. Due to the political disintegration of the elite at the end of the Republic, some individuals gained more power than others.33 In regard to the social relations attached to the domus, where the influence and power of women was most relevant, this meant that some domus were more powerful than others, making some couples significantly more relevant than others. Rolf Rilinger describes this evolution as the emergence of “proto-​courts” that could no longer be rivalled by customary aristocratic domus as they became the new political centres with their very own hierarchies.34 For the wives of these new potentates, this meant that their position was also more prominent. They were associated with both the growing auctoritas of their husbands as well as their longer claim to potestas –​a situation that, as I have argued above, was never intended and which violated Roman notions of potestas as an all-​male affair. It was up to both husband and wife to decide how they would handle this new-​found position as a growingly exceptional and unrivalled power couple.35 Mark Antony and the women at his side are instructive examples to explore this evolution. His different marriages showcase both the possibilities and limitations of Roman power couples, which ultimately even led to Antony’s downfall.

Mark Antony and the (Roman) women at his side The marriage career of Mark Antony is various and illustrious:36 only due to Cicero’s rantings in the Philippics is Antony’s first marriage to Fadia, the daughter of Quintus Fadius, a manumitted slave, known. Marriage between the scion of a down-​on-​its-​luck aristocratic family and an ex-​slave’s daughter was not forbidden, but was unusual and clearly not considered an adequate match. It is not clear whether Fadia came with an impressive dowry, which might have been a reason for the match, but she did not play any important part in Antony’s career. She is only mentioned by Cicero as her inferior social status ridicules her husband and their progeny.37 Antony’s second marriage was to a social peer, namely to his cousin Antonia, daughter of C. Antonius Hybrida. Antonia remains a shadow like her predecessor:  the couple had one daughter, who was betrothed in 37 to the son of Antony’s triumviral colleague Lepidus. Yet their marriage was already ended through divorce in 47 as Antony blamed his wife’s affair with Dolabella.38

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122  Ann-Cathrin Harders Antony’s subsequent marriages are of special interest in this context as exceptional couple constellations were evolving. His third wife was Fulvia who, like Antony, had been married twice before. Fulvia’s first husband had been the infamous Publius Clodius Pulcher, tribune of the plebs in 58. Fulvia seems to have been an exemplary wife to him who bore him two children and usually accompanied Clodius on his travels, but otherwise not much is known about her. She made the greatest political impact after her husband’s murder in January 52. Fulvia’s appearance as his widow and her public mourning triggered an enormous public response as the corpse was brought to the forum and put on a spontaneously built pyre. Her spectacular lament and the cremation are responsible for many of the political problems of this year.39 Fulvia later married her husband’s friend and another tribune, the Caesarian Gaius Scribonius Curio, who died in Africa in 49. They also had a son.40 Thus, when Fulvia and Antony married in 46, they had known each other for circa 15 years. Unlike his former wives, Antony now married a mother of three who moved in the same social and political orbit and was well known and active in Roman politics.41 Just as Antony became one of the major political players after Caesar’s assassination, Fulvia as his wife gained social and political importance, which she used to promote her husband’s interests.42 That in itself was rather expected of Roman matrons, as mentioned above, but Antony and Fulvia no longer formed a regular power couple but were “the” Roman power couple –​ an exception that was treated as such. It was disparaged from the beginning as it not only challenged aristocratic peer policy but also Roman conceptions of who was able to wield potestas to begin with. It was perceived that Fulvia was too strongly and uncontestably associated with her husband’s power.43 In his Philippics, Cicero paints Antony as a man enthralled by his wife who was able to use this for a renaissance of Clodian politics and that clearly boosted his greed and cruelty: she is said to have been behind the 10 million-​sestertii deal with Galatian king Deiotarus and the forging of Caesar’s acta, and she even travelled to Brundisium to see the execution of mutineers.44 Yet after fortune changed, Fulvia stayed loyal to Antony and, together with his mother, tried to convince the senators not to condemn Antony as a hostis publicus during the Bellum Mutinense.45 After the pact of Bononia and the founding of the triumvirate, Fulvia once again wielded influence  –​and now as the wife of a man who, for the moment, was more or less the most powerful man in Rome. Her actions during the proscriptions are described in the vein of Cicero’s rantings in the Philippics: Appian reports that Fulvia actively proscribed one Rufus to enrich herself, and Cassius Dio lets her obscenely disfigure the head of Cicero.46 While Octavian and Antony pursued Cassius and Brutus in the east, Cassius Dio further bemoans how Fulvia was dominating Roman politics and that neither the consuls nor the Senate or the people were able to act against her wishes.47 However, due to the focus on the male power players and the sources’ bias clearly favouring victorious Octavian’s point of view, we do not know

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 123 how Antony and Fulvia communicated with each other after Antony left Rome for the East and whether the couple ever formulated a “couple policy” that entailed sharing certain political tasks to speak of. As Antony tried to re-​establish Roman rule in the East after Philippi (Ferriès), his brother Lucius and his wife defended his interests in Italy against Octavian, who was to organise the veteran’s pensions.48 The conflict climaxed in the Perusine War in 41/​40, during which a militarised Fulvia raised eight legions against Octavian.49 Ultimately Octavian won after besieging Perusia. Fulvia herself had been in Praeneste and fled with her children to Athens, where she met with Antony and died shortly afterwards in Sikyon. Antony, however, sailed forth to Italy to settle matters with his colleague.50 It is not quite clear whether and how Antony was involved in the Italian conflict. Lucius and Fulvia clearly counted on the support of Antony’s legions in Gaul which never came. Appian reports that Antony was upset by his wife’s actions and berated her. According to Plutarch, he even shifted all the blame on Fulvia in order to come to terms with Octavian.51 The Perusine War is clearly portrayed as the action of a power-​hungry and jealous wife who would go to extremes to capture the attention of a husband who was philandering in the East.52 Martial cites an epigram written by Octavian who thus depoliticises the whole conflict: “Because Antony fucks Glaphyra, Fulvia has arranged this punishment for me: that I fuck her too”.53 Fulvia’s power is vulgarly mocked and broken down into gender stereotypes: she is the petty, out-​of-​control wife who would start a war because of her husband’s infidelities. This does not, however, explain and rather obscures why Fulvia was able to wield so much power in the first place. The women in Octavian’s family who served as a foil to the transgressive Fulvia demonstrate how females in such positions were expected to behave. Whereas both the sister and the mother of Octavian listened to the matrons’ pleas to avoid taxation in 42 B C E , a spiteful Fulvia turned them down.54 This episode shows the importance of women as part of the evolving proto-​courts. Their association with the male family members had always been important, but now due to the men’s extraordinary position within the res publica Romana their importance was correspondingly increasing. The trouble with Fulvia, however, was that she would not hide her growing importance within these couple constellations but did openly act on it –​and thus was able even to raise military support for her husband’s cause. Fulvia was not only determined to use her power, but also more importantly others were willing to follow her lead. Antony’s last marriage to Octavia is, in a way, the opposite of the Fulvia-​ Antony constellation:  on the one hand, this alliance was formed by and celebrated before the Roman troops, the Senate, and the people to symbolise and to guarantee political stability. It was thus unique, a state marriage that was neither performed before nor repeated afterwards.55 Although Octavia thus was far more prominent than Fulvia, she, however, never abused her power in a way that could be criticised but rather downplayed the possibilities of this constellation.

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124  Ann-Cathrin Harders Their marriage was part of the pact of Brundisium in October 40. The troops and officers on both sides forced Antony and Octavian to come to an understanding that not only rearranged the political spheres and assignments of the de facto duumvirate but also stipulated a marriage between the newly widowed Antony and Octavian’s sister Octavia, who also had recently lost her husband. The imperial authors praise this marriage as the key point of the whole pact: Vergil dreams of the beginning of the Golden Age; Plutarch feels Tyche’s hand in the arrangement; Appian describes how the troops started to cheer only after the betrothal had been announced; and Cassius Dio sets the entire matchmaking in the context of the potentates’ return to Rome with the whole populus Romanus wooing for the match. Even the Senate was needed to grant Octavia remarriage before the end of her mourning.56 The marriage was celebrated in a quasidynastic way. It is not comparable to Julia’s marriage to Pompey, which helped strengthen the bond between Pompey and Caesar. The so-​called first triumvirate had been an informal alliance, and Caesar and Pompey were not yet sole masters of the Imperium Romanum. Brundisium, however, set the stage for a state marriage with the whole res publica Romana being involved in the arrangement. The marriage itself was deemed responsible for guaranteeing political stability, which put high hopes not so much in Antony as a spouse but in Octavia’s capacities to maintain peace between brother and husband. Politics and romance are clearly (and unconvincingly) intertwined in Plutarch’s account: For they hoped that Octavia, who, besides her great beauty, had intelligence and dignity, when united to Antony and beloved by him, as such a woman naturally must be, would restore harmony and be their complete salvation.57 Octavia’s personality, her “Romanness” (as Plutarch contrasts her to “Oriental” Cleopatra),58 and her love are presupposed to make not only this marriage but also the whole political situation work –​a task that was impossible and unlikely to be performed. Unlike Octavian, Antony used Octavia to promote this new constellation and –​at least for the time being –​his willingness to adhere to this situation. Whereas in the coinage issued by Octavian after Brundisium, unity was presented by depicting Concordia and the heads of both commanders, Antony integrated the picture of his wife into his coinage (Figure 6.1). On the aurei that were issued in 39, the avers shows an “official” Antony with references to his acclamation as imperator and his office. The revers shows the bust of Octavia with a modish nodus coiffure. Antony clearly broke with Roman pictorial conventions and adopted forms of representation used by Hellenistic royal couples instead. Octavia is not portrayed in a stylised version, like the Victoria of Fulvia or the Concordia and Libertas of (probably) Claudia Pulchra and Porcia before, but as herself.59 The physical

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 125

Figure 6.1 Aureus (22 mm, 8.01 g, 1 h), unknown mint, 39 B CE , M. Antonius. Obverse: M·ANTON·IMP·III·VIR·R·P·C. Head of M. Antonius, right; border of dots. Reverse:  Head of Octavia, right. RRC 527,1. (Cf. http://​ikmk.smb. museum/​object?id=18202297). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18202297. Picture by D. Sonnenwald.

resemblance to her sibling is stressed; thus, by putting Octavia on his coins, Antony also referred to his brother-​in-​law and colleague Octavian. This “throuple-​constellation” was pushed forward after the meeting of the duumviri in Tarentum in 37. Conflict had arisen again as Octavian did not sufficiently support Antony’s campaign to Parthia. A confrontation between the colleagues and brothers-​in-​law was apparently prevented by Octavia, who helped to mediate a new understanding. Especially Plutarch emphasises her role: it is Octavia who –​with Antony’s consent –​approaches Octavian on her own, pregnant, and quite publicly in his camp and, by referring to her double role as sister and wife, is able to sway Octavian.60 The stability of the Republic thus not only lay in the individual relationship of the married couple but also

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Figure 6.2 Sestertius, bronze (37  mm, 19.75 g, 6 h), from Corinth (?), 38–​37 B CE , M. Antonius and L. Sempronius Atratinus. Obverse: [M ANT IMP TER COS] DES ITER [ET TER III VIR -​R P C]. [ANT, MP ligated]. Head of M. Marcus Antonius, right. Vis-​à-​vis bust of Octavia, left. Reverse: [L ATRATINVS AVGVR] COS DE[SIG]. Quadriga of hippocamps, right, steered by Antonius and Octavia as Poseidon and Amphitrite; below one rectangular object (astragal?) and stamp Δ. RPC I  1453. (Cf. http://​ikmk.smb.museum/​object?id=18215869). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18215869. Picture by D. Sonnenwald.

depended on the affective strength of the brother-​sister relationship –​in both cases it was presented as an affair that strongly depended on the individual efforts to make it work. Next to the literary sources, it is yet again Antony who stresses Octavia’s role in stabilising this special relationship and thus internal peace (Figure 6.2). The so-​called fleet coinage presents sestertii with Antony and Octavia facing each other on the obverse. On the reverse Antony and Octavia are portrayed as Neptune and Amphitrite on a quadriga towed by hippocamps (Figure 6.3).

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 127

Figure 6.3  Tressis, bronze (31mm, 16.73 g, 6h), from Corinth (?), 38–​ 37 B CE , M. Antonius and L. Sempronius Atratinus. Obverse: M ANT IMP TER COS [DES ITER ET TER III VIR R P C]. [ANT, MP ligated]. Jugate busts of M.  Antonius, in front, and C.  Iulius Caesar (Octavianus), behind, right. Vis-​à-​vis bust of Octavia, left. Reverse:  L ATRA-​TINVS AVGVR COS DESIG. Three galleys under sail, right. Lituus above, below stamp Γ and triskeles. RPC I 1454,2. (Cf. http://​ikmk.smb.museum/​ object?id=18215870). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18215870. Picture by D. Sonnenwald.

The couple is widened to a “throuple” on a tripondius where Octavian and Antony are joined in a double portrait facing Octavia, who thus is presented as the important link. Octavian, once again, did not integrate Octavia into his coinage –​the dynastic side of the de facto duumviral situation was not pictured.61 In his coinage, Antony clearly adopted modes of royal representation which had been practiced since the early Hellenistic age. But also in his personal

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128  Ann-Cathrin Harders interaction with Greek cities and local rulers he switched between a more formal Roman approach –​acting as magistrate –​and a more affable Greek approach, which can be seen as a strategy to appease the Greek world that had had to suffer over the Roman civil wars since the time of Sulla. Especially in Athens, he took pains to look and act more like a philhellene than a Roman conqueror, appearing in Greek dress and visiting religious festivals and scholars. His philathenism sent out a signal, valid beyond Athens, that he was approachable, and that the School of Hellas should not be punished but treated generously and according to its rank and identity as a polis.62 In this context, Antony also brought his wife into play during their stay in Athens in 39/​38. She took on the role of a quasi-​basilissa along his quasi-​basileus. The demos reacted to the couple as it had reacted to real royal couples before:  together, Antony and Octavia received divine honours identifying Antony with Neos Dionysos and Octavia with Athena Polias.63 An honorific inscription names both of them Theoi Euergetai, a title which was based on the honours for Antigonus Monophthalmus and Demetrius Poliorcetes but above all on the honours for Ptolemaic ruling couples.64 Antony also made Octavia part of his association with Dionysus and had their initiation into the (probably Eleusinian) Mysteries represented on cistophori of the year 39/​ 8 (Figure 6.4).65 The reaction of the Greek city states was not uncommon: in their dealings with Roman governors and patrons in the course of the first century B C E , the poleis frequently included wives and daughters in the honours, even if these women had not actually left Italy.66 The exceptional aspect of Antony’s stays in Athens, however, was the fact that he took on the role of royal benefactor to the polis in a particular way, and, moreover, that he integrated his wife into his Greek persona. Unlike Plutarch, who presents Octavia as a Roman matrona and a foil to Cleopatra, Appian emphasises the structural similarities in Antony’s treatment of the two women before the public of the polis.67 There is no surviving evidence of criticism from Rome at that time and from Octavian, whose sister was the first Roman woman to be given godlike honours –​only Antony’s appearance as Neos Dionysos later became a political issue. From 37/​6 onwards this changed as Cleopatra increasingly took on the role of female companion to Antony (Ferriès). In comparison to Octavia, the Ptolemaic ruler fulfilled this function in a way that was structurally similar but of a different quality: she was a “genuine” basilissa; she came from a diadoch dynasty which claimed descent from Philip II of Macedon;68 and she was the regent of the most important and wealthiest kingdom in the East. Cleopatra represents the culmination and the final step in Antony’s assimilation of the representation of a basileus.69 Although this might have helped Antony in the East, at the same time it threatened the couple constellation with Octavia, which was seen as the guarantee to stabilise the relationship to Octavian and thus peace in Rome. Antony’s final divorce in 32 thus went hand in hand with Octavian’s declaration of war on Cleopatra.70

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 129

Figure 6.4 Cistophorus, silver (28  mm, 11.61 g, 12 h), from Ephesus (?), c.  39 B CE . Obverse: M ANTONIVS IMP COS DESIG ITER ET TERT. Jugate busts of M.  Antonius, wreathed in ivy, in front, and Octavia, behind, right. Reverse: III VIR -​R P C. Dionysus standing on cista mystica, left, with a thyrsus in his left hand and a kantharos in his right hand; flanked by twisting snakes. RPC I  2202. (Cf. http://​ikmk.smb.museum/​object?id=18200378). Photo courtesy of Münzkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, object no. 18200378. Picture by L.-​J. Lübke (Lübke and Wiedemann).

Conclusion It was not the Roman power couple itself that was the exception; rather, this was the norm. But a couple constellation at the head of the state was exceptional as it violated the gendered notions of potestas in Rome and aristocratic equality. Mark Antony’s marriages to Fulvia and Octavia demonstrate the political development from an aristocracy to a monocracy, albeit in different ways. The example of Fulvia clearly shows the prominent position of the female as part of an exceptional power couple and the evolvement of proto-​ courts. As such Fulvia was able to derive her own power and even a military

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130  Ann-Cathrin Harders following through her husband’s position. The case with Octavia is more complex. In Antony marrying his colleague’s sister, everyone involved –​the troops and officers, the Senate, and the people, and maybe even Octavian and Antony themselves –​put faith in an extraordinary couple constellation to found and to keep inner peace. This marriage exaggerated in a way the social function that every aristocratic marriage served, namely to cultivate the social fabric of Rome and help strengthen the aristocracy as a group. Yet, no sole marriage and no sole couple would have been able to fulfil these notions, and neither Vergilian hope for a Golden Age nor Antony’s issuing of coins celebrating “throuple-​ness” could change that course. Furthermore, during his stay in Athens, Antony converted his already prominent marriage to the pattern of Hellenistic kings and queens. Just as he presented a philhellene face to communicate with the Greeks, he presented his Roman wife like a Hellenistic queen along with his persona of a Hellenistic king. As Roman magistrate, he actively promoted a couple constellation that the Greek cities were acquainted with, and accordingly Octavia was honoured alongside her husband. Nonetheless, this couple presentation backfired:  the constellation itself was not capable of guaranteeing political stability. It was only a cypher for a temporary understanding of two potentates. Furthermore, Antony’s form of representation came under attack as it shifted from Octavia to Cleopatra. With a Hellenistic queen being part of the couple, this was interpreted as an attack on Rome itself. In the end Octavian’s machinations bore fruit and his propaganda against Antony and the new woman at his side was successful.71 However, his victory did not make things easier for Octavian himself, who had to find a role not only for himself but also for his wife, and he had to ponder the question how to make the exceptional power couple unexceptional again.

Abbreviations CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. Berlin: Akademie der Wissenschaften. 1863-​ RPC Burnett A., Amandry M., and Ripolles P. P. Roman Provincial Coinage. London-​Paris. Bibliothèque nationale. 1992. RRC Crawford M. Roman Republican Coinage. London: Cambridge University Press. 1971.

Notes * I would like to thank the organisers and participants of the original conference, the editor, and Andrew van Ross (Bielefeld/​Essen) for their suggestions and criticism. 1 The online petition was set up by T.  Valette and was rated as successful on 6 September 2017 with 319,529 supporters (https://​www.change.org/​p/​contre-​le-​ statut-​de-​premi%C3%A8re-​dame-​%C3%A0-​brigitte-​macron; last access 26 April 2018). According to a YouGov poll initiated by the French Huffington Post, a majority of 68% opposed the idea of an official status for the Première Dame

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 131 in France (https://​www.huffingtonpost.fr/​2017/​05/​10/​exclusif-​brigitte-​macron-​ premiere- ​ d ame-​ 6 8-​ d es-​ f rancais-​ s ont_​ a _​ 2 2079467/​ ? utm_​ h p_​ ref=fr-​ b rigitte-​ macron; last access 26 April 2018). 2 A. Perkins, “Emmanuel Macron Is Right to Want Brigitte to Be France’s First Lady”. The Guardian, 8 August 2017, (https://​www.theguardian.com/​ commentisfree/​2017/​aug/​08/​emmanuel-​macron-​brigitte-​france-​first-​lady; last access 28 April 2018). 3 Ulp. Dig. 50.16.195.5: mulier autem familiae suae et caput et finis est. See also Ulp. Dig. 50.17.2pr. On this subject, see the essential contributions by Thomas (1993) and (1996); see also Harders (2008), 73–​8; Martin (2009b), 335–​43. 4 See v. Lübtow (1953); Kunkel and Wittmann (1995), 21–​8. 5 See Sacher (1953); Harders (2008), 72–​5; Harders (2013). Späth (1994), 318–​19 suggests the terms “werdender” or “virtueller Mann”. 6 Gell. 18.6.4 in contrast to Caes. Bell. Gall. 1.50.3; 7.26.3; 7.47.5; Liv. 39.53.3; Suet. Aug. 69. 7 Thomas (1993), 146–​8. 8 Harders (2014a), 20–​5. 9 Treggiari (1991), 251–​3. 10 See Treggiari (1991), 16–​36 on manus and matrimonium and its effects. 11 Mart. 8.12: Uxorem quare locupletem ducere nolim, /​Quaeritis? Uxori nubere nolo meae. See also Gell. 17.6.1. See Martin (2009a), 318–​9. 12 Cic. Att. 2.1.5. On the expression, see McDermott (1972). 13 See e.g. Pina Polo 2011, 17–​18. The wife of a high-​ranking magistrate like the praetor or consul had to organize the rites for Bona Dea, but this was a female-​ only rite and no representation of a civil or political couple. 14 There is some discussion that the rex sacrorum is complemented by a regina as well, but sources for the rex sacrorum are scarce. On the flamen and the flaminica, see Harders (2014a), 26–​31. 15 Gell. 10.15.16. 16 Gai. Inst. 1.109; 1.112; Gell. 10.15.22-​23; Plut. Mor. 276D  =  Quaest. Rom. 50; Serv. Aen. 4,103. 17 Ov. Fast. 1.587-​588; Macr. Sat. 1.15.16; 1.16.30; Serv. Aen. 4.262. 18 Gell. 10.15.27-​28; Serv. Aen. 4.137; 4.262. 19 Plut. Mor. 276D = Quaest. Rom. 50 (Transl. F. C. Babbitt): ‘διὰ τί ὁ ἱερεὺς τοῦ Διός, ἀποθανούσης αὐτῷ τῆς γυναικὸς, ἀπετίθετο τὴν ἀρχήν, ὡς Ἀτήιος ἱστόρηκε;’ πότερον ὅτι τοῦ μὴ λαβόντος ὁ λαβὼν εἶτ᾽ ἀποβαλὼν γυναῖκα γαμετὴν ἀτυχέστερος; ὁ μὲν γὰρ τοῦ γεγαμηκότος οἶκος τέλειος, ὁ δὲ τοῦ γήμαντος εἶτ᾽ ἀποβαλόντος οὐκ ἀτελὴς μόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ πεπηρωμένος. ἤ συνιερᾶται μὲν ἡ γυνὴ τῷ ἀνδρί, ὡς καὶ πολλὰ τῶν ἱερῶν οὐκ ἔστι δρᾶσαι μὴ γαμετῆς συμπαρούσης, τὸ δὲ γαμεῖν εὐθὺς ἑτέραν ἀποβαλόντα τὴν προτέραν οὔτ᾽ ἴσως δυνατὸν οὔτ᾽ ἄλλως ἐπιεικές; See Harders (2014a): 28–​30. 20 Takács (2008), 114; on the complementary aspect, see Scheid (2003), 143. 21 This picture is complemented by the camilli assisting the couple; the camilli had to be matrimi patrimique, that is, children whoseboth parents were still alive: Festus 82.113 (Lindsey); Serv. Georg. 1.31; see Harders (2014a), 30. 22 Tac. Ann. 4.16; see Berger (1925). 23 On the Vestals, see Harders (2014a), 31–​8. 24 See Hellegouarc’h (1963). 25 See Meier (2015); Walter (2017), 17–​20. 26 See Harders (2008), 313–​21; Brennan (2012), 359 and 362–​3; Harders (2014b).

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132  Ann-Cathrin Harders 27 See Flower (1996), 122–​5; Flaig (2003), 62–​6; Harders (2017), 206. 28 See Hemelrijk (1987). 29 See Hillard (1989) and (1992). 30 Cic. Att. 15.14.1-​2; 15.15.1; see Brennan (2012), 361; Harders (2014b), 90–​1. 31 Bielman, Introduction and Hallett (in this volume) give a definition and examples of modern power couples; Hallet presents a case study of Cornelia, wife of Paullus Aemilius Lepidus. 32 See Dettenhofer (1994); Kunst (2016); Harders (2017). 33 See Walter (2017), 90–​7 and 231–​8. 34 Rilinger (1997). See also Foubert (2016), 132–​8 focusing on women. 35 The growing importance of women is most obvious during the triumviral period:  according to Appian, in August 43 the senate tried to get hold of Atia and Octavia as hostages in order to persuade Octavian against marching on Rome (App. Civ. 3.92; see Harders [2008], 273–​4). During the proscriptions, sisters, mothers, and wives of the triumviri were beseeched to intercede on a tax decree (App. Civ. 4.32; Dio 47.7.4-​5). 36 On Antony’s marriages in general, see Huzar (1986). 37 Cic. Phil., 2.3; 3.17; 13.23; see Münzer (1909); Halfmann (2011), 53. On the criteria for choosing a partner: Treggiari (1991), 83–​124; Harders (2008), 44–​50. 38 Cic. Phil. 2.99; Plut. Ant. 9.  See Klebs (1894); Halfmann (2011), 53. Antonia’s betrothal: Dio 44.53; she later was married to Pythadorus of Tralles. 39 Cic. Mil. 28.55. On Fulvia, see Münzer (1910); on her marriage to Clodius and his murder, see Babcock (1965); Fischer (1999), 8–​18; Tatum (1999), 60–​1 and 239–​40; see also Brennan (2012), 357; on Fulvia’s lament: Ascon. Mil. 32 (ed. Clark); see Flaig (2003), 140–​1. 40 On Fulvia’s marriage to Curio, see Babcock (1965); Fischer (1999), 19–​24. 41 On Antony’s marriage to Fulvia, see Babcock (1965); Fischer (1999), 25–​47; Halfmann (2011), 54–​5. They had two sons:  Marcus Antonius, called Antyllus (47–​30 BC), and Iullus Antonius (45–​2 BC). 42 See Delia (1991); Dettenhofer (1994), 138–​40 and 149. 43 Cf. Halfmann (2011), 54. In 41/​0, supporters of Antony even renamed the Phrygian polis Eumenia “Fulviana” in her honour; see Brennan (2012), 358. 44 Cicero’s portrayal of the marriage is inconsistent:  first, he lets Antony marry Fulvia only for her money; then he scolds Antony as a besotted fool who left a military post to deliver a love letter to his wife (Phil. 2.99; 2.77.8). On her general capriciousness and cruelty:  Cic. Phil. 2.44.113. On the acta Caesaris:  Cic. Phil 5.4.11; Att. 14.12.1; on Deiotarus:  Cic. Phil. 2.95-​97; on Brundisium:  Cic. Phil. 3.4; 5.8.22; 13.8.18 –​see also Dio 45.13.2; 45.35.3. On Cicero’s portrayal: see Hallett (2015), 254–​8. On Clodian politics, see Welch (1995). 45 Cic. Phil. 12.12; Nep. Att. 9.2-​7; App. Civ. 3.51. 46 App. Civ. 4.29 (cf. Val. Max. 9.5.4 who does not mention Fulvia); Dio 47.8.3-​4. 47 Dio 48.4.1. 48 Dio 48.5.4; 6.2-​7,4; App. Civ. 5.14; 5.33. 49 App. Civ. 5.33. Fulvia as dux femina: Dio 48.10.1-​13.6; Plut. Ant. 28; Liv. Per. 125; 127; Flor. Epit. 216; Vell. 2.74.2-​3; Oros. 6.18.17-​19; see Hallett (2015). 50 On the Perusine War, see Fischer (1999), 40–​7; Halfmann (2011), 126–​9. 51 App. Civ. 4.52; Plut. Ant. 30.3. 52 App. Civ. 4.59; 5.19. Fulvia as dux femina: see supra n. 49.

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 133 53 Mart. 11.20.3-​4:  Quod futuit Glaphyran Antonius, hanc mihi poenam /​Fulvia constituit, se quoque uti futuam. See also the infamous Perusinae glandes: CIL XI 6721, 1–​42; see Hallett (2015), 249–​54. 54 App. Civ. 4.32; see Kunst (2016), 207–​8. 55 The marriage between Scipio’s daughter Cornelia and Gracchus is not a precedent, but is narrated by Livy (38.57.2-​8) in a similar vein; see Harders (2017), 208–​9. 56 Verg. Ecl. 4.8-​9; Plut. Ant. 31.1-​2; App. Civ. 5.64; Dio 48.31.3; see Harders (2008),  276–​8. 57 Plut. Ant. 31.2 (Transl. B.  Perrin):  ἐλπίζοντες τὴν Ὀκταουίαν ἐπὶ κάλλει τοσούτῳ σεμνότητα καὶ νοῦν ἔχουσαν, εἰς ταὐτὸν τῷ Ἀντωνίῳ παραγενομένην καὶ στερχθεῖ σαν, ὡς εἰκὸς τοιαύτην γυναῖκα, πάντων πραγμάτων αὐτοῖς σωτηρίαν ἔσεσθαι καὶ σύγκρασιν. 58 See also Plut. Ant. 53.3-​5; 57. 59 RRC 527/​1 (aureus); 528 and 529. See Harders (2008), 279. On Fulvia: RPC I 512–​ 13; 3139; see Fischer (1999), 141–​70. On Claudia and Porcia: J. Fabricius “Bilder besetzen. Zu Strategien symbolischer Konkurrenz in der späten Republik”. Unpublished paper given at Bielefeld, 28 November 2017. 60 Plut. Ant. 35.3; see also App. Civ. 5.93-95; Dio 48.54.3; see Harders (2008), 281–​5. 61 RPC I  4088–​ 4093 (Bibulus); 1453–​ 1458 (Atratinus); 1462–​ 1467 (Capito); see Harders (2008), 285–​7 with further literature. 62 Plut. Ant. 23. See Halfmann (2011), 106; Harders (2015), 184–​6. 63 See Raubitschek (1946), 146–​7 = AE 1952, 199. 64 Raubitschek (1946), 148–​ 9. See Kajava (1990), 71; Alonso Troncoso et  al. (2009),  19–​23. 65 Coins of the year 39/​8 BC: RPC I 2201; 2202; RRC 533/​3. On the series, see Alonso Troncoso et al. (2009), 21–​2; Halfmann (2011), 140. 66 See Kajava (1990). 67 App. Civ. 5.76. Cf. Alonso Troncoso et al. (2009), 12–​3 and 19. 68 Curt. Ruf. 9.8.22; Paus. 1.6.2. 69 See Halfmann (2011), 228; Harders (2015), 188–​90. App. Civ. 5.76. Cf. Ferriès in this volume. 70 See Harders (2008), 288–​97. 71 See Harders (2015), 191–​8.

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134  Ann-Cathrin Harders Dettenhofer M. (1994) “Frauen in politischen Krisen zwischen Republik und Prinzipat”. In Dettenhofer M. (ed.) Reine Männersache? Frauen in Männerdomänen in der antiken Welt. Köln/​Weimar/​Wien: Böhlau, 133–​57. Fischer R. A. (1999) Fulvia und Octavia. Die beiden Ehefrauen des Marcus Antonius in den politischen Kämpfen der Umbruchszeit zwischen Republik und Principat. Berlin: Logos. Flaig E. (2003) Ritualisierte Politik. Zeichen, Gesten und Herrschaft im Alten Rom. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Flower H. (1996) Ancestor Masks and Aristocratic Power in Roman Culture. Oxford: Clarendon. Foubert L. (2016) “Crowded and Emptied Houses as Status Markers of Aristocratic Women in Rome: The Literary Commonplace of the domus frequentata”. EuGeStA 6, 129–​50. Halfmann H. (2011) Marcus Antonius. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Hallett J. P. (2015) “Fulvia. The Representation of an Elite Roman Woman Warrior”. In Fabre-​Serris J. and Keith A. (eds) Women and War in Antiquity. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 247–​65. Harders A.-​C. (2008) Suavissima Soror. Untersuchungen zu den Bruder-​Schwester-​ Beziehungen in der römischen Republik. München: Beck. Harders A.-​C. (2013) “Paterfamilias”. EAH, 5081–​3. Harders A.-​C. (2014a) “Eine Frage von Herrschaft: Religion und Geschlecht im alten Rom”. In Stollberg-​Rilinger B. (ed.) “Mann und Frau schuf er sie”. Religion und Geschlecht. Würzburg: Ergon, 17–​45. Harders A.-​C. (2014b) “Kann man(n) Frauen vertrauen? –​Zur Rolle und Bedeutung von Frauen in aristokratischen Nahbeziehungen während der römischen Republik”. In Feickert S., Haut A., and Sharaf K. (eds) Faces of Communities. Social Ties between Trust, Loyalty and Conflict. Göttingen: v&r unipress, 77–​96. Harders A.-​C. (2015) “Consort or Despot? –​How to Deal with a Queen at the End of the Republic and the Beginning of the Principate”. In Börm H. (ed.) Antimonarchic Discourses in Antiquity. Stuttgart: Steiner, 181–​214. Harders A.-​ C. (2017) “Familienbande(n). Die politische Bedeutung von Verwandtschaft in der römischen Republik”. In Haake M. and Harders A.-​C. (eds) Politische Kultur und soziale Struktur der Römischen Republik. Bilanzen und Perspektiven, Akten der internationalen Tagung anlässlich des 70. Todestages von Friedrich Münzer (Münster, 18.–​20. Oktober 2012). Stuttgart: Steiner, 197–​214. Hellegouarc’h J. (1963) Le vocabulaire latin des relations et des partis politiques sous la République. Paris: Belles-​Lettres. Hemelrijk E. (1987) “Women’s Demonstrations in Republican Rome”. In Blok J. and Mason P. (eds) Sexual Asymmetry. Studies in Ancient Society. Amsterdam: Gieben, 217–​40. Hillard T. (1989) “Republican Politics, Women, and the Evidence”. Helios 16, 165–​82. Hillard T. (1992) “On the Stage, behind the Curtain:  Images of Politically Active Women in the Late Roman Republic”. In Garlick B., Dixon S., and Allen P. (eds) Stereotypes of Women in Power. Historical Perspectives and Revisionist Views. New York: Praeger,  37–​64. Huzar E. G. (1986) “Mark Antony: Marriages vs. Careers”. CJ 81.2, 97–​111. Kajava M. (1990) “Roman Senatorial Women and the Greek East. Epigraphic Evidence from the Republican and Augustan Period”. In Solin H. and Kajava

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Mark Antony and the women at his side 135 M. (eds) Roman Eastern Policy and Other Studies in Roman History. Proceedings of a Colloquium at Tvärminne 2–​3 October 1987. Helsinki:  Societas Scientiarum Fennica, 59–​124. Kunkel W. and Wittmann R. (1995) Staatsordnung und Staatspraxis der römischen Republik. Zweiter Abschnitt: Die Magistratur. München: Beck. Kunst C. (2016) “Formen der Intervention einflussreicher Frauen”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I., and Kolb A. (eds) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe siècle avant J.-​C.-​Ier siècle après J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG, 197–​216. Lübtow U. v. (1953) “Potestas”. RE XXII,1, 1040–​6. Martin J. (2009a) “Das Vaterland der Väter. Familia, Politik und cognatische Verwandtschaft in Rom”. In Martin J. Bedingungen menschlichen Handelns in der Antike. Gesammelte Beiträge zur Anthropologie. Stuttgart: Steiner, 311–​27. Martin J. (2009b) “Die Bedeutung der Familie als eines Rahmens für Geschlechterbeziehungen”. In Martin J. Bedingungen menschlichen Handelns in der Antike. Gesammelte Beiträge zur Anthropologie. Stuttgart: Steiner, 329–​44. McDermott W. (1972) “Cicero Att. 2.1.5”. CPh 67, 294–​5. Meier C. (2015) “Die Ordnung der Römischen Republik”. HZ 300, 593–​697. Münzer F. (1909) “Fadius Nr. 3”. RE VI,2, 1958. Münzer F. (1910) “Fulvius Nr. 113 (Fulvia)”. RE VII,1, 281–​4. Pina Polo F. (2011) The Consul at Rome. The Civil Functions of the Consuls in the Roman Republic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Raubitschek A. E. (1946) “Octavia’s Deification at Athens”. TAPhA 77, 146–​50. Rilinger R. (1997) “Domus und res publica. Die politisch-​ soziale Bedeutung des aristokratischen ‘Hauses’ in der späten römischen Republik”. In Winterling A. (ed.) Zwischen “Haus” und “Staat”. Antike Höfe im Vergleich. München: Oldenbourg, 73–​90. Scheid J. (2003) “Les rôles religieux des femmes à Rome. Un complément”. In Frei-​ Stolba R., Bielman A., and Bianchi O. (eds) Les femmes antiques entre sphère privée et sphère publique. Actes du Diplôme d’Etudes Avancées, Universités de Lausanne et Neuchâtel, 2000–​2002. Bern: Peter Lang, 137–​51. Späth T. (1994) Männlichkeit und Weiblichkeit bei Tacitus. Zur Konstruktion der Geschlechter in der römischen Kaiserzeit. Frankfurt/​New York: Campus. Takács S. A. (2008) Vestals, Virgins, Sibyls, and Matrons. Women in Roman Religion. Austin: University of Texas. Tatum W. J. (1999) The Patrician Tribune. Publius Clodius Pulcher. Chapel Hill/​ London: University of North Carolina Press. Thomas Y. (1993) “Die Teilung der Geschlechter im römischen Recht”. In Schmitt Pantel P. (ed) Geschichte der Frauen 1: Antike. Frankfurt/​M.: Fischer, 105–​71. Thomas Y. (1996) “Rom: Väter als Bürger in einer Stadt der Väter (2. Jh. v. Chr. bis 2. Jh. n. Chr.)”. In Burguière A. (ed.) Geschichte der Familie 1: Altertum. Frankfurt/​ M.: Campus, 277–​326. Treggiari S. 1991, Roman Marriage. Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Walter U. (2017) Politische Ordnung in der römischen Republik. Berlin/​Boston:  de Gruyter Oldenbourg. Welch K. E. (1995) “Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 47 B.C.” G&R 42.2, 182–​201.

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7  An exceptional and eternal couple Augustus and Livia Francesca Cenerini

Before discussing the couple comprised of Augustus and Livia, I  believe a brief biography of these two characters should be provided. The history of C. Octavius, subsequently called C. Julius Caesar Octavian Augustus, is too well known to dwell on for long. Legally adopted by Caesar in 44 B C E as his son and heir, with a wave of his hand, and thanks to a number of wise alliances, preparations, dismissals, and reparations, he succeeded in taking absolute power right after the famous victory of Actium over Antonius and Cleopatra in 31 B BCE .1 These alliances also included a key political marriage, which he undertook, as every noteworthy republican would have done, for both familial and political gain. His first wife was Clodia, daughter to the tribune of plebs, Clodius, and Fulvia, who later became wife to Marcus Antonius: Octavian divorced Clodia in 41 BCE , before the battle of Perugia against Lucius Antonio, brother to Marcus Antonius, stating that Clodia had remained a virgin.2 Quite conveniently, as suggested by Cassius Dio, Octavian preferred to let people believe his fight was more against Fulvia than Antonius (who remained a fearsome and powerful enemy). In 40 B C E , Octavian married Scribonia, daughter to Scribonius Libo,3 devotee and father-​in-​law to Sextus Pompeius.4 This marriage was needed to contrast the increasingly close ties between Sextus and Antonius with the aim of creating a coalition among the devotees of Pompeius Magnus’ son. The marriage, due to political circumstances, was soon destined to change, lasting only a little over a year, but it nevertheless resulted in the birth of Octavian’s only daughter, Julia, in 39 BC E . Sources say Scribonia was repudiated the same day she gave birth to Julia.5 The third and last marriage with Livia Drusilla sealed the final alliance of Octavian with the so-​called republicans. Third wife to Augustus, Livia’s life was characterised by some important and exceptional events that can be explained, as I see it, by the fact that Livia was the life companion to an extraordinary figure, or rather, the founder of the empire.6 Ancient sources, as is well known, have provided us with different portraits of this woman. Velleius Paterculus referred to her as follows: “Livia, daughter to the very noble and valorous Claudius Drusus, was the noblest, most honest and most beautiful of all Roman women; wife to Augustus,

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An exceptional and eternal couple 137 she became Augustus’s priestess and daughter once he was made one of the Gods”.7 Instead, the portrait of the same Livia proposed by Tacitus is quite different. The historian wrote in the Annali8 that in 29 BCE the by now extremely elderly, aetate extrema,9 Iulia Augusta, had yielded to death (she was probably born on 30 January10 59 BC E ), noble both by birth and adoption. In 44/​3 B C E , she first married Tiberius Claudius Nero, a renowned pro-​republican politician who was exiled and fled abroad with his wife and his son (the future emperor Tiberius), in the aftermath of the previously mentioned battle of Perugia (41 B C E ). He then returned to Rome following the peace treaty signed between Sextus Pompeius and the triumvirs Octavian, Antonius, and Lepidus. Tacitus stated that not long after that Octavian, mad with the desire to make the beautiful Livia (cupidine formae) his very own, kidnapped her from her husband. Nobody knew if this act was consensual or not (incertum an invitam), but Octavian was so impatient to have her that he led her to his home without even giving her time to give birth to the second son of her first husband. It must be said that this source registers the lack of information concerning Livia’s acceptance of this marriage and the subsequent divorce from her first husband. To better understand her personality, it should not be forgotten that in the terrible years of civil war she was forced to flee from Rome with her first husband, as a result of their exile. Although the marriage between Livia and Augustus did not result in children, she had some grandchildren in common with him, who were born from the marriage between Agrippina the Elder and Germanicus. Agrippina the Elder was, as we all know, daughter to Julia, the only daughter of Augustus; Germanicus was son to Drusus the Elder, the second child that Livia had with Tiberius Claudius Nero, whom she was pregnant with at the time of her marriage to Octavian. In accordance with ancient custom, Tacitus affirmed that Livia led an impeccable domestic life (sanctitate domus priscum ad morem) and was more obliging than usual (comis ultra quam antiquis feminis probatum); furthermore, she was an overbearing mother (mater impotens) and an amenable wife (uxor facilis), which was perfectly in line with the shrewdness of her husband and the hypocrisy of her son (et cum artibus mariti, simulatione filii bene composita). This is the portrait of Livia that Tacitus provided us with. Therefore, if we were to draw conclusions about the relationship of the couple based on the information provided by Tacitus, we might think of a woman ready to benefit from the opportunities offered up by her husband, who is also aware of the fact that she is subject to his will. We might also think this portrait served to confirm the discredit ascribed by Tacitus to the principality and the resulting presence of women at the emperor’s court (Späth). The marriage between Augustus and Livia continued for many long years and was interrupted only by the death of Augustus in 14 C E . Although it did not produce children, their desire to become parents remained strong, as mentioned by Suetonius.11 Furthermore, this non-​prolific marriage was contrary to the laws passed by Augustus himself on the criminalisation of

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138  Francesca Cenerini adultery and the encouragement of prolific marriages (leges Iuliae de adulteriis coercendis and de maritandisordinibus, which were fully approved in 18/​7 BC ).12 Apparently, the political motivations behind this marriage attributed by the Tiberian Fasti Verulani on 17 January 38 B C E ,13 were stronger than the marriage’s sterility.14 As Werner Eck wrote: “considering the attitude of the most powerful families in Rome, in terms of their dynastic genealogy, her position (scil. Livia) could have had the highest importance in reinforcing political ties”.15 What Suetonius stated is also noteworthy:16 [Augustus] dilexit [Livia] et probavit unice ac perseveranter (loved her and he proved it with uncommon determination). Apparently, Augustus found the right woman for him in every respect on his third try.17 In the case of Livia, her privileged position, which she exploited wisely, clearly allowed her to become a stabilising factor in the power structure.18 It must be said that Augustus, to get around the problem of a lack of male heirs, did not hesitate to promote the career of his familiares, also for dynastic purposes, as was clearly confirmed by the numerous marriages of his daughter Julia: her first attempt was with Claudius Marcellus, the son of his sister Octavia, who remained devastated by his untimely death in 23 B C E . Livia might even have been considered a suspect in the death of Marcellus, but the same Cassius Dio, who was also the one to have reported it, was sceptical of the plausibility.19 In 17 BCE , Augustus adopted the children of his daughter Julia and of Agrippa, in other words his grandchildren by blood, Caius and Lucius Caesaris, thereby ensuring their succession, which was abruptly cut off by their premature deaths in 2 and 4 BCE . Even in this case, the sources, specifically Tacitus20 and Cassius Dio,21 once again speculated about Livia’s involvement: mors fato propera vel novercae Liviae dolusabstulit and τὴν Λιουίαν […] ὑποπτεuθῆναι. Such suspicions, however, were completely unfounded, since as confirmed by Cassius Dio,22 Lucius died of an illness in 2 C E in Marseille and Caius died in 4 C E from battle wounds. Instead, these suspicions were clearly corroborated in a recent monography by Lorenzo Braccesi,23 where Livia is accused of being responsible for all of the deaths of Augustus’ heirs. It seems quite plausible to me, when considering their relationship as a couple, that if the slightest suspicion had crossed the mind of Augustus concerning Livia’s homicidal intentions towards his progeny, which is completely improbable, their marriage would not have lasted so long. Furthermore, Augustus did not hesitate to open his doors to many young fatherless aristocrats, supporting both their military and civil careers, with the aim of favouring the entrance of representatives from his domus into the ruling class of the new principality.24 His choice turned out to be a winning one when it came to Tiberius and his brother Drusus the Elder. This was not so much the case with Iullus Antonius, son to Marcus Antonius and Fulvia, raised by Octavia, and husband to Marcella the Elder, praetor in 13, consul in 10, and proconsul in Asia between 7 and 6 BC E , as well as the leading member of an opposition movement against Augustus, together with the daughter of August Julia.25 Instead, in the case of Publius Quintilius Varus, who would

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An exceptional and eternal couple 139 die in Teutoburg, it was a very bad decision: Varus was the husband of the daughter that Agrippa had from the daughter of Titus Pomponius Atticus (Pomponia Caecilia Attica) or from Marcella the Elder, daughter of Octavia.26 As is well known, Augustus wanted to marry Livia when she was still pregnant with her first husband’s child.27 If we go beyond the more or less creative reconstruction of modern historians,28 sources clearly say that Drusus Claudius, or rather Drusus the Elder, was born of Livia in the house of Caesar.29 It was actually not such an unusual practice;30 moreover, Octavia, widow of Claudius Marcellus, was probably pregnant with Marcella the Younger when she married Antoniius in 40 BCE ,31 thereby violating the tempus lugendi as confirmed by Plutarch. These violations of the tempus lugendi could be explained within the framework of the civil wars, which were defined in a word by Tacitus32 as a period when there was no mos, or ius:deterrima quaeque impune ac multa honesta exitio fuere, and there were no ethics or concept of right anymore. The worst crimes were committed with impunity and many honest actions led to disaster. It is also interesting to note that Velleius33 as a writer was instead favourable to the establishment of the principality and presented the marriage between Augustus and Livia in a context of good omens that supported the res publica. A strange episode was reported by Suetonius:34 an extremely private banquet (secretior), that later on would commonly be referred to as the dinner of (vulgo) “the twelve gods”, during which Octavian turned up in the guise of Apollo, while the other 11 guests dressed the part of the other divinities. This dinner became known as the wedding banquet of Octavian and Livia.35 Modern archaeologists who did excavations on the Palatine were able to pinpoint the place where the banquet would have taken place, namely the triclinium of peristyle A, which was located on the ground floor of the luxurious house of Octavian on the Palatino.36 Octavian was rebuked by his political opponents, including both the most radical republicans and the supporters of Caesar, for having had a sumptuous dinner while the people of the city of Rome were starving because of food shortages resulting from the battles at sea undertaken by Sextus Pompeius, son of Pompeius Magnus. According to the interpretation of Giovannella Cresci,37 in 33 BCE , when the conflict between Antonius and Octavian would have reached a point of no return, Antonius criticised Octavian for his marriage to Livia when she was pregnant with her first husband’s child. Antonius perfectly understood that this marriage had sealed the agreement between Octavian and the conservative aristocracy and tried to turn these negative aspects, which were also contrary to the mos maiorum, against him. In this way, Antonius’ propaganda labelled Octavian a typical despot and ascribed a despot’s typical behaviour to him, including the kidnapping of attractive wives from their legitimate spouses. Recently, similarities were made between the narration of the event of Lucretia in Livius (the matron who killed herself because she could not live with the disgrace of rape, and who, through this action, caused the fall of the monarchy) and the marriage between Octavian and Livia in Tacitus:  if, on the one hand,

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140  Francesca Cenerini Livius emphasised the fact that the dictatorship of Tarquinius collapsed as a consequence of the rape and the resulting reactions of the Roman nobility to such an abuse of power, on the other hand, Tacitus also underlined how the principality was founded on the Roman nobility’s acceptance of the new despot’s “abduction” of a married woman.38 However, if we attempt to analyse this story, removing all defamatory propaganda from it, we could assume that husband and wife shared, at least at the beginning of their marriage, an aristocratic lifestyle of Hellenistic imprint, which was also confirmed by the building of the monumental mausoleum of Augustus near the place where, starting from 13 BCE , the ara Pacis would be built, the public monument where both the male and female relatives of Augustus would be placed for the very first time.39 A strange rapport, which contradicted the dictates of the mos maiorum, characterised the relationship between Augustus and Livia, but also the familial ties between Augustus and his sister Octavia. In fact, in 35 B C E Octavian decided to confer sacrosanctitas to his wife Livia and sister Octavia, most likely because of a new provision of the Senate (senatus consultum), and after a triumph granted to Octavian, that he postponed, as affirmed by Cassius Dio.40 In addition to sacrosanctitas, he also granted exemption from protection and ius imaginum to them.41 In other words, together with the sacrosanctitas, they were also granted the right to manage their own assets and to build sculptures in their own honour. Different explanations have been provided for these actions taken by Octavian: John Scheid42 correctly pointed out that Livia and Octavia were not honoured because of an action directly undertaken by them or because of their rank, but because their husband and brother had respectively obtained triumph:  therefore, the honour they were granted was by extension of this result. This observation was without a doubt acceptable, but it can also be noted that Octavian felt the need to protect his women, or rather, the women who could deliver his heirs, through the sacrosantitas, the safety and the inviolability of which had already been granted to the tribunes of plebs, as Cassius Dio in particular underlined:43 the writer used the word ἀδεές, which referred to the sphere of security, and the word ἀνύβριστος, which meant no offence. Therefore, Octavian wanted to ensure both his wife and sister had special guarantees and distinctions (in terms of their assets) that would have put them on a separate level from other noble women of that same period.44 Furthermore, the eminent Julii family began to be identified, unlike other families, with the entire public body and, substantially, the wealth of its representatives coincided with the good of the state. So, it is not far-​fetched to consider this measure as “the first step towards the formation of the concept of domus Caesaris”.45 As is well known, the right to public image (ius imaginum) and ius trium liberorum (i.e. exemption from feminine protection) would be reconfirmed only to Livia in 9 B C E ,46 since Octavia died in 11 BCE .47 This is what sources tell us regarding the public representation of the life of this couple, which would become the “ancestral couple” of Roman

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An exceptional and eternal couple 141 imperial power when, after the deification of Augustus in the aftermath of his death, also Livia would be deified in 42 CE by her nephew Claudius. We might wonder: did this husband and wife talk about politics? Cassius Dio, even though he sometimes confused Livia with Julia,48 ascribed the decision to adopt her son Tiberius to Livia’s influence. I think that this was a unilateral decision taken by Augustus (as contemporary Roman aristocrats would have likewise decided) that, however, had serious repercussions for his wife’s life, after the death of Augustus. In fact, with this unusual action, which was at the same time revolutionary and which remained a sort of unicum on the Roman political and institutional panorama, Livia was adopted by Augustus through his last will and testament. After Augustus’ death, Livia became daughter to Augustus and, as such, assumed the name Iulia Augusta as recorded by the official epigraphy, which includes for example tabula Siarensis,49 and s.c. de Cn. Pisone patre,50 thus confirming, without a doubt, that Iulia Augusta played a key role in the gradual establishment of a divine domus Augusta. In his testament, Augustus ordains that his wife Livia and stepson Tiberius are his heirs (Tiberium et Liviam heredes habuit), in particular, Livia in familiam Iuliam nomenque Augustumadsumebatur.51 Suetonius52 speaks of the division of the estate and the obligation to bear his nomen: heredes instituit primos Tiberium ex parte dimidia et sextante; Liviam ex parte tertia, quos et ferre nomen suum iussit (his first heirs are accordingly Tiberius for half of the estate plus a sixth, while Livia is granted a third, with the obligation to bear his name). Cassius Dio53 instead speaks of two-​thirds of the estate left to Tiberius, with the remainder going to Livia, as stated in some accounts, were the remarks of the writer. He also adds that Augustus was forced to ask the Senate for a waiver allowing him to leave her such a sizeable estate. This adoption technically fell within the category of the adoptions by testament which, however, as Anthony Barrett observed,54 was never completely defined by jurists, making it very “difficult to understand what the consequences were from a strictly legal standpoint”. The political consequences were also unclear, and there is no unanimity among researchers on the real institutional role (or not) of Livia in the aftermath of Augustus’ death,55 which was completely logical if we consider the real or supposed political influence exerted by the wife on her husband during their relationship. If, on one hand, condicio nominis ferendi would lead to the belief that such adoptions by testament were real adoptions, with all the related legal consequences,56 serious doubts remain, on the other hand, regarding the real purpose of this kind of adoption.57 If it is important to be prudent when formulating hypotheses based on uncertain or incomplete documentation, as rightly underlined by Christiane Kunst58 many times, in my opinion it is clear that in the case of Livia, both the political and dynastic interests at stake play a part in the adoption. The adoption of Livia was recognised by a senatus consultum and was submitted to the formal approval of the people’s assembly in order to have an effective legal value: as per the customs of that

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142  Francesca Cenerini time period, the Senate approved the building of an ara adoptionis for commemorative purposes, which, however, Tiberius did not allow to be built, in a move that underlined his strong desire to drastically limit feminarum honores.59 According to Suetonius,60 in fact, Tiberius accused his mother of wanting to share in his power (partes sibi aequas potentiae vindicantem). According to Cassius Dio,61 in contrast, Livia, after the death of Augustus and the transfer of power to her son Tiberius, would have aspired to acquire not only a formal acknowledgement but also one of substance in the empire’s government,62 with the aim of bringing about a real co-​regency. A historian from the third century C E in fact confirms that proof of it could be found not only in her general behaviour but also in her official correspondence. This assessment of Cassius Dio was completely anachronistic, and it is possible that the historian was actually influenced by the role that Julia Domna played at the court of the Severi at the beginning of the third century B C E , a court with which Dio had some familiarity.63 As I see it, Augustus did not want and could not create a bona fide institutional power for Livia, since it completely conflicted with the Roman mentality of that period.64 In practice, instead, it is clear how fundamental Livia’s role was, as already seen in the intentions of her husband-​ foster father, in the gradual creation of a divine domus Augusta, which served as the basis of a dynastic cult and recognition of imperial power, where the apotheosis bestowed upon Augustus, in the aftermath of his death, introduced a fundamental element that the successors of Augustus were forced to deal with.65 It is no surprise that Iulia Augusta was the first priestess of the divine cult of Augustus, which was key in legitimising the power of her natural son Tiberius, who was also the adoptive son of Augustus, as underlined by Giuseppe Zecchini.66 Ovid67 defined her as a wife and priestess (coniunxque sacerdos), whilst Velleius68 referred to her as a priestess and daughter (sacerdotem ac filiam). Cassius Dio69 wrote that after the apotheosis of Augustus, Livia, who was already called both Julia and Augusta, was elected official priestess of his cult, with the option of using a lictor during sacred services. Such female priesthood, which was independent from the flamen divi Augusti, was organised on the model of the flaminica, the wives of flamen Dialis, the Vestal Virgins, and the sacerdos publica of Ceres, allowing a formal position of recognition to be conferred to AugustaLivia, as perfectly described by Regula Frei-​Stolba.70 As stated above, Tiberius, in part, was opposed to the feminarum honores granted to Livia, but admitted in 23 C E that Livia could sit among the Vestal Virgins and could use the carpentum, a two-​wheeled cart usually reserved for stately occasions. Finally, her nephew Claudius would divinise her on 17 January 42 C E , the same day of her wedding anniversary.71 There could be different explanations for the adoption of Livia, maybe all of them even plausible. In any case, as I  see it,72 the most important element was the transfer of the cognomen of Augustus, which became, from that moment on and up to the reign of Nero, the exclusive and

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An exceptional and eternal couple 143 absolute prerogative of the Julius-​Claudia gens,73 by which Livia would be remembered, as already stated, on all official documents dated after 14 C E .74 The media of that period, in the age of both Augustus and Tiberius, celebrated dynastic continuity: the Julius-​Claudia family, which no longer made any more distinctions, “was structured and defined as a reference for the regular transfer of power”.75 In literary sources, instead, her name varies: in Velleius Paterculus, for example, Drusus Livius was defined as Iuliae Augustae pater,76 while in other sources she was referred to as Livia.77 As I see it, it must be said that within a few decades the new name of Augusta was in a certain sense “normalised”, insofar as Plinius the Older78 stated Liviae Drusillae quae postea Augusta matrimonii nomen accepit, thereby associating the assumption of this name with the marriage, as had become customary starting from Claudius and Nero.79 The succession of Tiberius undoubtedly benefited from this adoption,80 which, in this way, saw him pronounced the natural son of Iulia and adoptive son to Augustus. However, it must also be considered that the adoption of Livia by Augustus would have benefited Livia’s position, not only in terms of her assets but also in the court’s hierarchy. Livia appeared, as we already saw, to hold a prominent position in official documentation, for example, in the tabula Siarensis, and she was daughter to sacerdos divi Augusti. So, the public role that the flaminica would have had in the public life of cities was pre-​ empted, as demonstrated also by the initiatives of public character, including for example the feasts dedicated to matrons, which were promoted by Livia (and by Julia, before she ran away from Rome) on the ludi saeculares.81 Another important moment in the history of the Augustan age describes an occurrence where Livia heavily influenced Augustus’ decision. According to the report of Cassius Dio,82 anonymous informers brought accusations against Cornelius Cinna, nephew of Pompeius Magnus, before Augustus, and Cinna, summoned by the prince, confessed his subversive action. Persuaded by the highly articulate speech of his wife, Livia, who urged clementia over severitas, Augustus forgave Cinna, who even obtained the position of consul the following year in 5 C E . Today, critics tend to scale down the importance of this supposed conspiracy and to consider it, instead, a ploy cleverly organised by Augustus himself to strengthen his bonds with the Senate aristocracy, who by now were an essential element in reinforcing his governmental policy of conciliation, either presumed or real.83 The same and very clear involvement of Livia underlined these politics of conciliation:  their marriage inaugurated the so-​called politics of oblivion, which favoured the participation of Octavian’s longstanding adversaries in the new regime. Did Livia share in these values, or was she just a political mouthpiece? The long speech that Cassius Dio reports on her having made was fully rhetorical and typical of the suasoriae, but were there some parts that reflected in a certain sense her personality or the couple’s dynamics? The context was decisive and, for example, already present in Plutarch’s narration of the events regarding Caesar’s killer, Brutus, and his wife, Porcia:84 Augustus was unable

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144  Francesca Cenerini to sleep, and Livia asked him why: this is the portrait of a wife who shared intimacy with a possessor of power. Augustus explained the reason to her, and Livia answered that it was a normal consequence for those who were in possession of a power that, in this context, was anachronistically defined as absolute (αὐταρχία),85 and which was lamented by Augustus as the cause of his loneliness. Livia, always in the narration of Dio, asked Augustus not to blame her if she, despite the fact she was only a woman, permitted herself to make a suggestion to him that no one else, including not even his closest friend, would have dared. Livia decided to speak, because she said she was able to maintain her role as queen (ἂρχουσα)86 only as long as Augustus was safe, but if Augustus fell into danger, she was bound to fall to ruin together with him. Livia was therefore aware of the fact that she shared the same destiny as her husband. Livia was a passionate supporter of the politics of clementia and of courteousness,87 and Augustus, persuaded by her words, listened to her. The context, as we said, is fully rhetorical and anachronistic, but it cannot be excluded that Augustus’ policy of gradually building up political power might have been shared by Livia, who precisely because of her political origins (conservative republicans) was married to Augustus. In any case, Livia was granted through the will of Augustus a porticus on the Esquilino, which would be imitated by representatives of the municipal aristocracy as a symbol of concordia Augusta and pietasAugusta. The same Augustus, in fact, had promoted the restoration and construction of two buildings which he dedicated to both his sister and wife, respectively the porticus Octaviae,88 and the porticus Liviae:89 within this porticus, Livia dedicated an aedes to Concordia, which must have been similar to the ara Pacis of Campo Marzio. From this, one might conclude that Livia shared in the conciliatory politics of Augustus, since she herself was an example of the need for reconciliation between the men, women, and ordines in a Roman society that, as already stated, had been torn asunder by a century of civil wars. Were they in love? We do not know. Certainly, Augustus did not divorce her, despite the sterility of their marriage, but we can wonder if, in light of the political scene characterising that period, Augustus could have aspired to a better wife than Livia. Suetonius wrote that Augustus on his deathbed supposedly pronounced the following words as he was held by Livia: “Livia, nostri coniugii memor vive, ac vale!” What could have been the meaning of such words: were they the farewell of a dying old man to a beloved wife or the desire to reiterate that Livia should never forget she was wife to Augustus and that she should always behave accordingly? Indeed, we must keep in mind that if it were not for her husband, Augustus, we would know nothing about Livia.90

Notes 1 Regarding Augustus, see Canfora (2015); Marcone (2015). 2 Suet. Aug. 62; Dio 48.5.2-​3.

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An exceptional and eternal couple 145 3 Regarding the relationship (sister or daughter) with Scribonius Libo see PIR2, Scribonia, Berolini-​ Novi Eboraci (2006), 107, n.  274 and M.  Strothmann, Scribonia (1), Der neue Pauly, 11 (2001), 302. 4 Fantham (2006), 17. 5 Dio 48.34.3. 6 See also Cenerini (2013b). Bartman (1999) is still essential in the iconography of Livia. 7 Vell., 2.75.3. 8 Tac. Ann. 5.1.3; in 4.8.3 the historian spoke about the extrema senectus of Augusta. 9 See also Dio 58.2.1: Livia died in 29 BC E at the age of 86 years. 10 Barrett (2006), 412–​13; Kienast D., Eck W. and Heile M. (2017), 83: 30 January 58 B C E . 11 Suet. Aug. 63.1: cum maxime cuperet. 12 Aug. RGDA.8:  legibus novis /​multa exempla maiorum. See Spagnuolo Vigorita (2013 2010 20103 FC); Spagnuolo Vigorita (2012); Coppola Bisazza (2016), with considerations that cannot be completely shared; Mentxaka (2016) specifically on the commentarius to the lex Iulia de maritandisordinibus. Regarding the Res Gestae of Augustus, see now Arena (2014). 13 Augusta nupsit divoAugustus: see Kienast, Eck and Heile (2017), 62; Bruni (2014), 30. On the problems raised by this notation in the Fasti Verulani, see Barrett (2006), 423. Braccesi (2016), 35 speculated that the indication of these Fasti could not be correct. 14 Suet. Aug. 63.1, wrote that ex Livia nihil liberorum tulit, cum maxime cuperet. Infans, qui conceptus erat, immaturus est editus. 15 Eck (20102), 25–​6. The familial ties of Livia prior to her marriage to Octavian explained the rise of some families at the time of Augustus (for example, the Volusii Saturnini), according to Huntsman (2009). 16 Suet. Aug. 62.3. 17 Regarding the political choices that led Octavian to this marriage, see now Rohr Vio (2016), and the previous bibliography. 18 Temporini-​Gräfin Vitzthum (2002), 96–​7. 19 Dio 53.33.4. 20 Tac. Ann. 1.3.3. 21 Dio 55.10.10. 22 Dio 55.10. 8–​10. 23 Braccesi (2016). 24 See Hurlet (2015). 25 See Rohr Vio (2000); Rohr Vio (2007) and the previous bibliography. 26 See Raepsaet-​Charlier (1987), 633.1. 27 Suet. Aug. 62.3: pregnantem abduxit. 28 See Barrett (2006), 416–​17; Braccesi (2016), 34–​6. 29 Vell. 2.95.1. 30 On previous, see Rohr Vio (2016), 60–​2. 31 Plut. Ant. 31.5. 32 Tac. Ann. 3.28.1. 33 Vell. 2.79.2. 34 Suet. Aug. 70.1–​2. 35 Flory (1988).

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146  Francesca Cenerini 36 Carandini et al. (2008). 37 Cresci Marrone (2002). 38 See Strunk (2014). 39 See La Rocca (2009). 40 Dio 49.38.1. 41 Valentini (2011), 222–​4. 42 Scheid (2003). 43 Dio 49.38.1. 44 Cenerini (2009b), 20. 45 Cosi (1996), 262. 46 Dio 55.2.5:  the specific source that such acknowledgements would have been granted to Livia to comfort her (παραμουθία) for the loss of her second-​born son, Drusus the Elder. 47 Regarding Octavia, see now Cid López (2016) and previous bibliography. 48 Dio 55.13.1a. 49 González and Arce (1988); Eck, Caballos, and Fernandez (1996); González (2008); Cipollone (2012). 50 Potter and Damon (1999); Zecchini (1999); Pani (2000). 51 Tac. Ann. 1.8.1. 52 Suet. Aug. 101.2; see also Vell. 2.75.3; Dio 56.46.1. 53 Dio 56.32.1. 54 Barrett (2006), 219. 55 Cf. Barrett (2006), 225–​34. 56 Salomies (1992). 57 Lindsay (2009), 86. 58 Kunst (1996); see in general Kunst (2005); Kunst (2008), 188–​214. 59 Tac. Ann. 1.14.1. 60 Suet. Tib.50.3. 61 Dio 56.47.1. Likewise, Tiberius refused to let an arch in honour of his mother be built: Dio 58.2.3. 62 According to Salazar Revuelta (2016), Livia effectively took part in the government of the empire, even if from a non-​official position, but such a statement cannot be shared. 63 See Barrett (2006), 336–​7. 64 See Yakobson (2003). 65 See Kolb (2010). 66 Zecchini (2003). 67 Ov. Pont. 4.9.107. 68 Vell., 2, 75, 3. 69 Dio 56.46.1. 70 Frei-​Stolba (2008). 71 Dio, 60.5.2. 72 See Cenerini (2014), 79–​81. 73 Regarding the choice of this cognomen, which represented also the politics of the imperium and the religiosity of the auctoritas, see Zecchini (1996); regarding the value of the auctoritas in particular, see Todisco (2007); Wallace-​Hadrill (2016); for a reading in a historical and religious key, see Santi (2016). 74 See Barrett (2006), 223. 75 So Marcone (2015), 247.

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An exceptional and eternal couple 147 76 Vell. 2.71,2. 77 For ex. Vell. 2.75.3; 79.2; 94.1; 95.1. 78 Plin. Nat. 15.136. 79 See Cenerini (2009b), 79. 80 See Zecchini (2003). 81 See Cenerini (2006); Cenerini (2013a). 82 Dio 55.14.1-​22,3. 83 See Rohr Vio (2011), 101–​7 and previous bibliography. 84 See Cenerini (2012). 85 Dio 55.15.1. 86 Dio 55.16.2. 87 See Rohr Vio (2011), 106. 88 Octavian Augustus restored the porticus Metelli from the profits of the war waged against the Dalmati in 33 BC and named it after his sister: see D’Alessio (2012), 510. Octavia dedicated to the memory of her son Marcellus the corresponding library divided into two sections, Greek and Latin, with dedicated personnel. Once again, in memory of Marcellus, Augustus erected the theater that is still named after him: Plut. Marc. 30.11. 89 Between 15 and 7 BCE, Augustus erected the porticus, naming it for his wife Livia in the area which was previously occupied by the domus of Vedius Pollio. The domus was inherited by Augustus and was demolished to further the politics of Augustus against excessive private luxury. Within the porticus, Livia dedicated an aedes Concordiae, which must have been similar to the ara Pacis of Campo Marzio: Fraioli (2012), 312. 90 See also Cenerini (20092a).

Bibliography Arena P. (ed.) (2014) Augustus, Res Gestae. I miei atti, Bari: Edipuglia. Barrett A. A. (2006) Livia. La First Lady dell’impero, Roma:  Edizioni dell’Altana (Livia. First Lady of Imperial Rome; London/​New York: Routledge, 2002). Bartman E. (1999) Portraits of Livia. Imaging the Imperial Woman in Augustan Rome. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Braccesi L. (2016) Livia, Roma: Salerno Editrice. Bruni S. (2014) “I calendari e la rivoluzione di Augustus”. In Paris R., Bruni S., and Roghi M. (eds) Rivoluzione Augustus. L’imperatore che riscrisse il tempo e la città, Milano: Electa,  20–​45. Canfora L. (2015) Augustus figlio di Dio. Roma/​Bari: Laterza. Carandini A. and Bruno D. (2008) La casa di Augustus. Dai “Lupercalia” al Natale di Roma, Roma/​Bari: Laterza. Cenerini F. (2006) “Spazi pubblici femminili:  teoria o realtà?”. In Angeli Bertinelli M.G. and Donati A. (eds) Misurare il tempo, misurare lo spazio. Atti del Colloquio AIEGL-​Borghesi 2005. Faenza: Fratelli Lega Editori, 274–​86. Cenerini F. (20092a) La donna romana. Modelli e realtà. Bologna: Il Mulino. Cenerini F. (2009b) Dive e donne. Mogli, madri, figlie e sorelle degli imperatori romani da Augustus a Commodo. Imola: Angelini. Cenerini F. (2012) “Vivo igni devorato (Vell., II, 88, 3): gli strani suicidi di Porcia e di Servilia”. In Corda A. and Floris P. (eds) Ruri mea vixi colendo. Studi in onore di Franco Porrà. Ortacesus, CA: Nuove Grafiche Puddu, 101–​20.

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148  Francesca Cenerini Cenerini F. (2013a) “The Role of Women as Municipal Matres”. In Hemelrijk E. and Woolf G. (eds) Women and the Roman City in the Latin West. Leiden: Brill, 9–​22. Cenerini F. (2013b) “Il ruolo delle donne nel linguaggio del potere di Augustus”. Paideia 68, 105–​29. Cenerini F. (2014) “L’adozione in età romana”. In Garbellotti M., Rossi M. C. and Pellegrini M. (eds) Figli d’elezione. Adozione e affidamento dall’età antica all’età moderna. Roma: Carocci editore, 69–​84. Cid Lopez R. M. (2016) “Octavia. La noble matrona de la domus de Augustus”. In Rodríguez López R. and Bravo Bosh M. J. (eds) Mujeres en tiempo de Augustus: realidad social e imposición legal. Valencia: Tirant Humanidades, 307–​30. Cipollone M. (2012) “Un frammento del senatus consultum de honoribus Germanici al Museo archeologico di Perugia”. Epigraphica 74, 83–​108. Coppola Bisazza G. (2016) “La posizione giuridica della donna in epoca augustea. Aspetti innovatori”. In Rodríguez López R. and Bravo Bosh M. J. (eds) Mujeres en tiempo de Augustus: realidad social e imposición legal. Valencia: Tirant Humanidades, 27–​51. Cosi R. (1996) “Octavia. Dagli accordi triumvirali alla corte augustea”. In Pani M. (ed), Epigrafia e territorio. Politica e società. Temi di antichità romane, IV. Bari: Edipuglia, 255–​72. Cresci Marrone G. (2002) “La cena dei dodici dei”. RCCM 1, 25–​33. D’Alessio M. T. (2012) “Regione IX. Circus Flaminius”. In Carandini A. (ed) Atlante di Roma antica. 1. Testi e immagini. Milano: Electa, 493–​541. Eck W. (20102) Augustus e il suo tempo. Bologna: Il Mulino (Augustus und seine Zeit; München: Beck, 2003). Eck W., Caballos A., and Fernandez F. (1996) Das Senatus Consultum de Cn. Pisone Patre. München: Beck. Fantham, E. (2006) Julia Augusti. The Emperor’s Daughter. London/​New  York: Routledge. Flory M. B. (1988) “Abducta Neroni uxor:  The Historiographical Tradition on the Marriage of Octavian and Livia”. TAPhA 118, 332–​46. Fraioli F. (2012) “Regione III. Isis et Serapis”. In Carandini A. (ed) Atlante di Roma antica. 1. Testi e immagini. Milano: Electa, 307–​22. Frei-​Stolba R. (2008) “Livie et aliae: le culte des diui et leurs prêtresses; le culte des diuae”. In Bertholet F., Bielman Sánchez A., and Frei-​Stolba R. (eds) Egypte  –​ Grèce –​Rome. Les différents visages des femmes antiques. Travaux et del III incontro internazionale di storia antica (Genova, 23–​24 novembre Bern: Peter Lang, 345–​95. González J. (2008) “Epigrafía política imperial y propaganda en provincia bética: Tabula Siarensis y s.c. de Cn. Pisone patre”. In Angeli Bertinelli M. G. and Donati A. (eds) La comunicazione nella storia antica. Fantasie e realtà. Atti del III incontro internazionale di storia antica (Genova, 23–​24 novembre 2006). Roma: Edizioni Giorgio Bretschneider, 117–​38. González J. and Arce J. (eds) (1988) Estudios sobre la Tabula Siarensis. Madrid: CSIC (Centro de Estudios Históricos). Huntsman E. D. (2009) “Livia before Octavian”. Ancient Society 39, 121–​69. Hurlet F. (2015) “L’idéologie dynastique sous les Julio-​Claudien: origines, évolution, modes d’expression et modalités de sa diffusion”. In Zecchini G. (ed) L’Augusteum di Narona. Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 117–​43. Kienast D., Eck W., and Heile M. (2017) Römische Kaisertabelle. Grundzüge einer römischen Kaiserchronologie: Darmstadt: Wissenshaftliche Buchgesellshaft.

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An exceptional and eternal couple 149 Kolb A. (2010) “Augustae und Politik. Augustae –​Zielsetzung, Definition, Überblick”, in Kolb A. (ed) Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herrschaftsstrukturen und Herrschaftspraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich 18.-​ 20.9.2008. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1–​23. Kunst C. (1996) “Adoption und Testamentsadoption in der späten Republik”. Klio 78, 87–​104. Kunst C. (2005) Römische Adoption. Zur Strategie einer Familienorganisation. Hennef: Clauss. Kunst C. (2008) Livia. Macht und Intrigen am Hof des Augustus. Stuttgart: Klett-​Cotta Verlag. La Rocca E. (2009) “La dedica dell’Ara Pacis”. In Greco E. (ed) Patrasso colonia di Augustus e le trasformazioni culturali, politiche ed economiche della Provincia di Acaia agli inizi dell’età imperiale. Atti del Convegno internazionale, Patrasso, 23–​24 marzo 2006. Atene: Scuola Archeologica Italiana di Atene, 307–​24. Lindsay H. (2009) Adoption in the Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Marcone A. (2015) Augustus. Il fondatore dell’impero che cambiò lastoria di Roma e del mondo. Roma: Salerno Editrice. Mentxaka R. (2016) “Apunte sobre la legislación matrimonial de Augustus con base en la lex municipii Troesmensium”. In Rodríguez López R. and Bravo Bosh M. J. (eds) Mujeres en tiempo de Augustus: realidad social e imposición legal, Valencia: Tirant Humanidades,  51–​6. Pani M. (2000) “Principato e logica familiare nel s.c. su Gneo Calpurnio Pisone”. In Paci G. (ed) Epigraphai. Miscellanea epigrafica in onore di Lidio Gasperini, II. Tivoli: Editrice Tipigraf, 685–​93. Potter D. S. and Damon C. (1999), “The ‘senatus consultum de Cn. Pisone patre’”. AJPh 120, 13–​42. Raepsaet-​Charlier M.-​T. (1987) Prosopographie des femmes de l’ordre sénatorial (Ier–​II e siécles). Leuven: Peeters. Rohr Vio F. (2000) Le voci del dissenso. Octavian Augustus e i suoi oppositori. Padova: Il Poligrafo. Rohr Vio F. (2007) “Reviviscenze dell’eredità politica Caesarisana nello scandalo del 2 a.C.” In Cresci Marrone G. and Pistellato A. (eds)Studi in ricordo di Fulviomario Broilo. Padova: Sargon, 531–​48. Rohr Vio F. (2011) Contro il principe. Congiure e dissenso nella Roma di Augustus. Bologna: Pàtron. Rohr Vio (2016) “Le nozze di Augustus tra azione politica e strategie propagandistiche”. In Luciani S. and Zuntow P. (eds) Entre mots et marbre. Les métamorphoses d’Auguste. Bordeaux: Ausonius, 53–​65. Salazar Revuelta M. (2016) “Livia. Modelo de princesa imperial en el marco del poder de la dinastía Julio-​Claudia”. In Rodríguez López R. and Bravo Bosh M. J. (eds) Mujeres en tiempo de Augustus: realidad social e imposición legal. Valencia: Tirant Humanidades, 331–​65. Salomies O. (1992) Adoptive and Polyonomous Nomenclature in the Roman Empire. Helsinki: Societas scientiarum Fennica. Santi C. (2016) “Il titolo di Augustus: materiali per una definizione storico-​religiosa”, in Baglioni I. (ed) Saeculum Aureum. Tradizione e innovazione nella religione romana di epoca augustea. I. Roma: Quasar, 117–​30.

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150  Francesca Cenerini Scheid J. (2003) “Les rôles religieux des femmes à Rome. Un complement”. In Frei Stolba R., Bielman A., and Bianchi O. (eds) Les femmes antiques entre sphère privée et sphère publique. Bern: Peter Lang, 137–​51. Spagnuolo Vigorita T. (20103) Casta domus. Un seminario sulla legislazione matrimoniale augustea. Napoli: Jovene. Spagnuolo Vigorita T. (2012) “Joersiana IV:  Livia, Augustus e ilplebiscito Voconio”. Index 40, 257–​70. Strunk T. E. (2014) “Rape and Revolution: Livia and Augustus in Tacitus’ Annales”. Latomus 73, 126–​48. Temporini-​Gräfin Vitzthum H. (2002) “Frauen neben Augustus und Tiberius”. In Temporini-​Gräfin Vitzthum H. (ed) Die Kaiserinnen Roms. Von Livia bis Theodora. München: Beck, 21–​102. Todisco E. (2007) “Il nome Augustus e la `fondazione´ ideologica del principato”. In Desideri P., Moggi M., Pani M. and Lazzeretti A. (eds) Antidoron. Studi in onore di Barbara Scardigli Forster. Pisa: ETS, 441–​62. Valentini A. (2011) “Novam in femina virtutem novo genere honoris: le statue femminili a Roma nelle strategie propagandistiche di Augustus”. InAntonetti C., Masaro G., Pistellato A., and Toniolo L. (eds) Comunicazione e linguaggi. Contributi della Scuola di Dottorato in Scienze Umanistiche. Indirizzo di Storia antica e Archeologia: Padova: Sargon, 197–​238. Wallace-​Hadrill A. “The Naming of Augustus”. Maia 68, 264–​71. Yakobson A. (2003) “Maiestas, the Imperial Ideology and the Imperial Family: The Evidence of the Senatus Consultum de Cn. Pisone patre”. Eutopia 3, 75–​107. Zecchini G. (1996) “Il cognomen ‘Augustus’”. Acta Class. Univ. Scien. Debrecen. 32, 129–​35. Zecchini G. (1999) “Regime e opposizioni nel 20 d.C.: dal S.C. ‘de Cn. Pisone patre’ a Tacitus”. In Sordi M. (ed) Fazioni e congiure nel mondo antico. CISA, 25. Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 309–​35. Zecchini G. (2003) “Il fondamento del potere imperiale secondo Tiberio nel S.C.de Cn. Pisone patre”. Eutopia 3, 109–​18.

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8  A love poet’s script for an Augustan power couple Propertius 4.11 Judith P. Hallett

This chapter analyses, through a gendered and historicist lens, a renowned literary text by the Augustan love elegist Propertius:  the eleventh and final poem in his fourth book, the so-​called regina elegiarum,“queen of the elegies”.1 I  view Propertius’ text as testimony to the political status and influence of the noblewoman whom Propertius represents as the elegy’s first person speaker, the emperor Augustus’ stepdaughter Cornelia, wife of Lucius Aemilius Lepidus Paullus (also known as Paullus Aemilius Lepidus). Indeed, on the basis of other ancient evidence as well as Propertius’ elegy, I characterize Cornelia and her husband Paullus as what we Americans call a political “power couple”. First attested in 1983, but only added to the Oxford English Dictionary in 2016, the term “power couple” is used to describe two ambitious people with politically influential careers who are married to one other. It was evidently coined to refer to the marriage of two specific individuals then holding high-​ranking elective and appointive American political offices. The husband, Robert J.  Dole, a disabled World War II veteran, was, in 1983, a Republican serving his third term as a US Senator from Kansas who had made an unsuccessful run for the US vice presidency seven years earlier. His wife, Elizabeth, also known as Liddy, 13 years his junior, was the US Secretary of Transportation, in the cabinet of a Republican president, Ronald Reagan.2 In 1998, after serving from 1985 through 1996 as US Senate Majority Leader, and running unsuccessfully for the US presidency against the Democratic incumbent, William J. “Bill” Clinton, Elizabeth’s husband –​who habitually referred to himself in the third person as “Bob Dole” –​became a commercial spokesperson for, inter alia, Viagra, the best-​known pharmaceutical remedy for erectile dysfunction in the United States. Meanwhile, from 1989 through 1993, Liddy Dole had joined the cabinet of Reagan’s Republican successor, George H.  W., Bush as Secretary of Labor. In 2002, three years after her husband launched his lucrative campaign for Viagra, she was elected, as a Republican, to the US Senate from North Carolina, serving in that office for one term, from 2003 through 2009.3 Along with establishing why Cornelia and her husband, Paullus, like the Doles, merit the label political “power couple”, I consider the complications

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152  Judith P. Hallett arising from reliance on the love poet Propertius as a historical source, owing to his distinctive literary agenda in the fourth book of his elegies. Propertius’ choice of details in Cornelia’s literary portrait has political implications, stemming from Propertius’ decision to spotlight some but not all of her male family members. Yet these details also connect and at the same time contrast her portrait with that of his own beloved Cynthia in the seventh elegy of Book 4. While the political achievements of Cornelia’s husband, Paullus Aemilius Lepidus, hardly equalled those of Bob Dole, he and his two sons did occupy powerful political positions under Augustus, in and outside of the imperial family circle, as you can see in Figure 8.1. Nephew of the triumvir Lepidus, Paullus, consul suffectus in 34 BC E , was later appointed censor in 22 B C E . After Cornelia’s death, he married the younger Claudia Marcella, daughter of Augustus’ sister Octavia. One of his and Cornelia’s sons, Lucius Aemilius Paullus, wed the younger Julia, daughter of Augustus’ own daughter and hence Cornelia’s own niece. This younger Paullus then went on to hold the consulship with his wife’s brother Gaius Caesar in 1 C E . His brother Lepidus was consul later, in 6 C E .4 (See Figure 8.1.) Cornelia, of course, did not, and could not, hold elective or appointive political office in her own right. In this major regard she differs from Liddy Dole, and from other female members of political “power couples” in our country. These women include Hillary Rodham Clinton, a Democrat who formerly served as US Senator from New York and later Secretary of State under Barack Obama, and current Secretary of Transportation and former Secretary of Labor Elaine Chao, a Republican. Chao is married to a US Senator from Kentucky, fellow Republican Mitch McConnell, who currently serves as Senate Majority Leader.5 Nor do Propertius and other ancient sources describe Cornelia as engaging in the traditionally masculine activities of public oratory or warfare in support of her husband. In this regard she contrasts sharply with Fulvia, an elite Roman woman of the previous generation, whose youngest son, Iullus Antonius, like Cornelia and her immediate kin, was absorbed, as it were, into Augustus’ own extended family. Asconius’ commentary on Cicero’s Pro Milone remembers Fulvia’s powerful words before the Roman public that stirred up sympathy for her first husband, the plebeian tribune Publius Clodius Pulcher, after his murder in 52 BCE . So, too, do Velleius Paterculus, Plutarch, Cassius Dio, Appian, a bawdy epigram by Augustus, and several lead sling bullets inscribed with abusive obscenities testify to Fulvia’s military leadership at the battle of Perusia in 41/​0 BCE , to aid the cause of her third and final husband, Mark Antony.6 Cornelia differs from Hortensia, daughter of the celebrated Roman orator Quintus Hortensius Hortalus as well. Valerius Maximus, Quintilian, and Appian all hail Hortensia for her public oratory, evinced by pleading successfully, in 42 B CE , on behalf of women, against financial burdens imposed on the rank of respectable matrons, by the three men who formed Rome’s

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newgenrtpdf

M. Aemilius Lepidus (consul 78 BC)

L. Aemilius Paullus (consul 50 BC) G. Claudius = Octavia Marcellus (Octavian/Augus sister)

M. Aemilius Lepidus (consul 46 BC, triumvir 43-36 BC )

P, Cornelius (? Scipio) (2) = (consul suff. 35 BC)

Scribonia (3) = Octavian/Augustus (the Emperor)

Claudia Marcella = (2) Paullus Aemilius Lepidus (1) = Cornelia (consul 34 BC)

P. Scipio (consul 16 BC) M. Vipsanius = Julia (the Elder) Agrippa

M. Aemilius Lepidus (consul 6 AD)

Julia Drusilla = M. Aemilius Lepidus daughter) ( ) (

L. Aemilius Paullus = Julia (the Younger) (consul 1 AD)

Aemilia Lepida = Drusus Caesar (Germanicus son)

Aemilia Lepida = M. Junius Silanus (consul 19 AD)

Figure 8.1 The genealogical stemma for Paullus Aemilius Lepidus and his wife Cornelia.

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154  Judith P. Hallett second triumvirate: Lepidus, Mark Antony, and the man who would become Augustus. While Hortensia’s words, like those of Fulvia after the murder of Clodius, have not managed to survive, at least these sources attest to their moving delivery. Appian even provides a Greek translation.7 The words of Cornelia in this elegy, a literary script placed in her mouth by her contemporary Propertius, are totally fictitious. Indeed, they resemble those that Propertius assigns to his beloved Cynthia earlier in the seventh elegy of Book 4, inasmuch as Cornelia supposedly speaks them from beyond the grave, at the time of her death in 16 BCE . While Cornelia’s words in this poem evoke those of Latin funerary epitaphs, they also adhere to certain requirements of public, political speech by living Roman males.8 In addition, even if Cornelia merely employs Propertius’ own fictitious words in speaking for herself, Propertius depicts Cornelia as a serious Rome political player. Here, too, she immediately differs from female members of today’s American political power couples in yet another major respect. Such women rarely and sparely acknowledge any kind of dependence on their husbands, and with good reason. Elizabeth Dole and Elaine Chao are their husbands’ second (and one might say “trophy”) wives. They wed Dole and McConnell, both already US senators at the time, when they were 39 and 40 respectively, after enjoying successful if not high-​profile careers in public service before their marriages. Chao, unlike Liddy Dole and Hillary Clinton, still uses her birth name rather than that of her husband McConnell professionally. To be sure, Hillary Clinton has been her husband’s only wife and he her only husband. Like both Chao and Dole, and Propertius’ Cornelia, she is what the Romans termed a univira. Unlike Chao and Dole, however, Clinton wed at the considerably younger age of 28, only a few years after graduating from law school; Bill Clinton, a law school classmate one year her senior, had yet to seek high political office. Upon relocating from Washington, DC, to her husband’s native Arkansas, she tried to identify herself her by birth name, Rodham, in pursuing an independent legal career and supporting her husband’s political ambitions, only to encounter serious opposition. Her bid, at that time and again decades later, for a public identity apart from her husband’s appears to have been richly justified. Many regard Bill Clinton as having inflicted serious damage on his wife’s presidential prospects: by, for example, meeting on a private airport tarmac with Loretta Lynch, US attorney general under Barack Obama, while Lynch was overseeing an investigation by the Federal Bureau of Investigation into his wife’s emails.9 Spousal ties have also created conflicts for female members of power couples in their dealings with other politically influential males. When the president in whose Cabinet she serves, Donald Trump, publicly chastised her husband for his failure to pass a health care bill, Elaine Chao was forced to proclaim, publicly, in Trump’s presence, “I stand by my man, both of them”.10 Propertius’ Cornelia, however, makes much of her ties to her husband Paullus, mentioning not only a highlight of his own political career but also a major achievement by one of his similarly named male ancestors. For she

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Love poet’s script 155 twice recalls that her husband occupied the office of censor in 22 B C E , six years prior to her death: remarking in line 41 me neque censurae legem mollisse, “that I never relaxed a regulation of the censorship”, and addressing her in 67 specimen censurae nata paternae, “the test of your father’s censorship”. In lines 39–​40, she recalls the military conquest 152 years earlier, in 168 B C E , by an earlier leader who shared her husband’s name, Lucius Aemilius Paullus, over the Macedonian king Perseus: calling him as witness to her moral excellence with et Persen proavi stimulantem pectus Achilli/​quique tuas proavo fregit Achille domos, “Perseus, rousing his spirit with thoughts of his ancestor Achilles, and his ancestor Hercules who smashed your halls, Avernus, river of the underworld”. Furthermore, in the poem’s very first line Propertius has Cornelia address Paullus, ordering him to stop burdening her grave with tears: Desine Paulle, meum lacrimis urgere sepulcrum. In lines 11–​12, she voices a rhetorical question to lament that her marriage to him failed to protect her from death:  Quid mihi coniugium Paulli […]/​profuit? “what was the advantage to me of my marriage to Paullus?”. In lines 33–​36, she speaks of her marriage ceremony and, addressing Paullus again, announces that she will be “read on her tombstone” as a univira:  mox, ubi iam facibus cessit praetexta maritis/​vinxit et acceptas altera vitta comas,/​iungor, Paulle, tuo sic discessura cubili/​ut lapide hoc uni nupta fuisse legar, “Soon, when the purple-​striped robe of a young girl gave way to the torches of marriage, and another hair ribbon bound my gathered hair, Paullus, I was joined to your bed, about to leave it in this way: I will be read on this stone as having been wed to you alone”. In lines 45–​46, immediately after invoking the accomplishments of her own forbears as well as those of her husband, she claims that her life remained distinguished in the years between her marriage and death: nec mea mutata est aetas, sine crimine tota est;/​viximus insignes inter utramque face, “Nor was my life changed, it was entirely without charges of immorality; we lived as distinguished individuals between the torches of marriage and death”. Finally, in lines 73–​98, Cornelia addresses her husband again and then orders her children to support him in the years to come, whether he remarries or not. The lengthy passage, provided largely in translation, furnishes vivid evidence for her efforts to control him in death as well as to identify with him in life: And now I  entrust our children, shared commitments (communia pignora), to you: this concern still breathes, seared into my ashes. Father, perform maternal duties (fungere maternis vicibus): that entire crowd of mine must be sustained on your neck. When you will give your kisses on them as they weep, add those of a mother: the whole house now has begun to be your burden. And, if you will grieve about anything, do that in their absence! When they will be present, give deceptive kisses with dry cheeks. May there be a limit to the nights for you, Paullus, which you exhaust in thinking about me, and to the dreams often resulting in my

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156  Judith P. Hallett appearance: and when you speak secretly to my face, utter each and every word as if I were about to answer. If, however, our household door will change the marriage couch across from it, and a watchful stepmother will occupy our bed, children, praise and endure your father’s marriage:  if won over by your ways she will give her hands to you. Do not praise your mother too much: compared to an earlier wife, she will turn your freely spoken words into criticisms of her. But if he, remembering me, will remain satisfied by my shade and will consider my ashes of importance, learn to lighten his old age, already approaching, and let no path lie open for the griefs of an unmarried man. Let the time taken from my life be added to your years:  thus let it be pleasing for Paullus to be an old man with my offspring. And it is a good thing: never as a mother did I wear the clothes of mourning: all of my children came to my funeral rites (et bene habet:  numquam mater lugubria sumpsi:/​venit in exsequias tota caterva meas). Yet Cornelia seemingly distinguishes and distances herself from her husband, and asserts a right to inherited political eminence herself, when enumerating the achievements of, and identifying with, her aristocratic, politically achieving paternal family, the Cornelii Scipiones. As Gregory Hutchinson aptly comments (and as we shall see), “Cornelia speaks as a Scipio, in lines 101 and 102”; “she even approaches Scipionic near-​divinity to end a book which has in its central figures set mortal women against male gods”.11 And at lines 11–​12, Cornelia also asks, rhetorically, how the currus, triumphal chariot, of her ancestors, as well as her marriage to Paullus, and her children, famae pignora tanta meae “trustworthy witnesses to my respectable reputation”, protected her from death: quid currus avorum/​profuit? By triumphal chariot, Cornelia is presumably referring to the military triumphs of such Scipionic forbears as Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus in 202 BC E , and Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, the so-​called younger Scipio Africanus, in 146 and 133 BC E . In lines 29–​32, moreover, Cornelia mentions both her paternal Scipionic kin and the Scribonii Libones, her mother Scribonia’s ancestors, asserting si cui fama fuit per avita tropaea decori,/​ nostra Numantinos signa loquuntur avos:/​ altera maternos exaequat turba Libones, /​et domus est titulis utraque fulta suis, “if, through ancestral trophies, a good reputation has served as a source of glory to anyone, our statues tell of forebears who conquered Numantia; another throng elevates my mother’s Libones to the same level; and each side of my household is supported with its own laudatory inscriptions”.12 The Scipio to whom Cornelia alludes in 30 is the younger Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus Africanus, adopted grandson of the elder Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus, conqueror of Carthage, since it was the younger Scipio who decimated the Spanish town of Numantia in 133 B C E . But she also invokes both adoptive grandfather and adopted grandson, and their African military achievements, in the next two lines, 37 and 38. There she asserts testor

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Love poet’s script 157 maiorum cineres tibi, Roma, verendos,/​sub quorum titulis, Africa, tunsa iaces, “I call to witness the ashes of my ancestors, to be cherished by you, Rome, under whose engraved words of praise you, Africa, lie crushed”. It is in the next couplet, 39–​40, that she mentions Lucius Aemilius Paullus’ victory over Perseus in 168 B C E . I remarked that Cornelia’s invocation of her Scipionic ancestors seemingly distinguishes her and her own family from the ancestors of her husband, Paullus. I used this adverb because over a century earlier, her own Scipionic family had forged familial ties with her husband’s ancestral Aemilii Paulli: first through the marriage of the Macedonian conqueror’s sister Aemilia to the elder Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus; then through the adoption of the Macedonian conqueror’s son by the son of the Carthaginian conqueror and his wife Aemilia, as a result of which the adoptee was subsequently called Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilanus. Not only did this marriage and adoption blur distinctions between Cornelii Scipiones and Aemilii Paulli. The change of name, attendant upon the adoption of Aemilius Paullus’ son into the household of the Cornelii Scipiones, also arguably conferred more distinction, or at least attention, on the Cornelii Scipiones than on the Aemilii Paulli, natal family of the adoptee.13 Hutchinson rightly observes that both Cornelia and her husband Paullus, as children of adoptees into these noble families, could not technically claim biological descent from the earlier Scipiones or the Aemilii Paulli cited by Cornelia.14 But he might have noted that Paullus’ ancestor Scipio Aemilianus set a precedent for these non-​biological ties, as himself was an adoptee into the Scipiones. We should also note the significance accorded by Propertius in this poem to kinship ties through women, both among the ancestors invoked by Propertius’ Cornelia and within the household of Augustus, credited for embracing Cornelia herself. As observed, the son of the Macedonian conqueror Lucius Aemilius Paullus owed his adoption into the Scipionic family to the marriage of his father’s sister Aemilia to the elder Scipio Africanus. Propertius pays further heed to familial connections through women in lines 50–​54. There he has Cornelia state:  turpior assessu non erit ulla meo/​vel tu, quae tardam movisti fune Cybellen,/​Claudia, turritae rara ministra deae,/​vel cui, iuratos cum Vesta reposceret ignes,/​exhibuit vivos carbasus alba focos, “no woman will be more shamed from having me sit beside her, neither you, Claudia, the exceptional attendant of the tower-​crowned goddess Cybele, who moved the Great Goddess’ slowly travelling statue by a rope, nor Aemilia, whose white robe proved that the hearth was still lit, when the goddess Vesta demanded the fires you had sworn to sustain”. According to our sources, these two women, Claudia and Aemilia, had their moral respectability called into question, and were not always judged the paragons of virtue that Cornelia here purports to be. But heavenly signs eventually exonerated them both, rendering each –​at least in Cornelia’s opinion –​ an exemplar of sexual probity. And Cornelia can claim one of them, the Vestal Virgin Aemilia, another of Paullus’ putative kinswomen, as her kinswoman

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158  Judith P. Hallett too:  again, through the marriage of another female Aemilia, sister of the Macedonian conqueror, to her father’s adoptive kinsman Scipio Africanus, and the adoption of this Aemilia’s nephew, the Macedonian conqueror’s son, into Cornelia’s ancestral Scipiones. All of the Aemilii, the women as well as the men among them, are kin to Cornelia, too, adoptive to be sure but kin no less. This Claudia, moreover, is said to have towed to shore a ship, stuck on a sandbar in the Tiber River, conveying an image of the Great Goddess Cybele from Asia Minor to Rome in 204 BC E ; she thereby, in Hutchinson’s words, gave “divine proof of her disputed chastity”.15 Yet even if this Claudia was not one of Cornelia’s own female ancestors, Augustus’ wife Livia, the daughter of Marcus Livius Drusus Claudianus, an adoptee into the Claudian family, could claim her as a forbear. So could Livia’s two sons: their father, Tiberius Claudius Nero, belonged to the Claudii from birth.16 For that matter, the daughters of Augustus’ sister Octavia by her first husband, Gaius Claudius Marcellus, also belonged to the same family. One would marry Cornelia’s widower, while the other had by 16 BCE wed the aforementioned Iullus Antonius (whose mother, the aforementioned Fulvia, had “Claudian” children herself, one of them the first wife of Augustus himself, from her first marriage to Publius Clodius Pulcher).17 These familial ties to and through women –​the Aemilia married to Scipio Africanus, Augustus’ wife Livia, Augustus’ nieces the Claudiae Marcellae –​ deserve emphasis because it is through her mother, Scribonia, Augustus’ second wife and mother of his only child Julia, that Cornelia seeks recognition as a member of Augustus’ extended family. As we have seen, at 31 Propertius has her salute her mother’s paternal ancestors, the Scribonii Libones, by imputing them with a stature equal to that of the Cornelii Scipiones. In 55–​60, Propertius has her address her mother, proclaiming Nec te, dulce caput, mater Scribonia, laesi:/​in me mutatum quid nisi fata velis?/​maternis laudor lacrimis urbisque querelis,/​defensa et gemitu Caesaris ossa mea./​ille sua nata dignam vixisse sororem/​increpat, et lacrimas vidimus ire deo, “Nor, mother Scribonia, sweet person, have I  injured you:  what would you wish changed about me other than my fate? I  am praised by my mother’s tears and the laments of the city; and my bones were championed by the groaning of Caesar. He says bitterly that a sister worthy of his own daughter has lived, and we saw tears emerging from a god”. Although Cornelia’s mother and Augustus had been divorced for over 20 years at the time of Cornelia’s death, Propertius nonetheless depicts her as beloved by her half-​sister Julia’s father, regarded by him as of his own daughter’s calibre, and as part of his own capacious household. So, too, Propertius underscores Cornelia’s personal qualities that embody Augustan, and earlier Republican, ideological values. Indeed, I  would ascribe Cornelia’s political authority and influence largely to her apparent possession of traits associated not only with her male and female republican Scipionic ancestors but also with the princeps himself. Admittedly,

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Love poet’s script 159 Propertius portrays Cornelia as meriting honour in the afterlife mainly by reason of her spotless moral reputation, which she adduces repeatedly, as well as the glorious deeds of her ancestors, validated by her virtue. At line 17 she asserts, huc non noxia veni, “I have come here, blameless”; at lines 41–​ 42, as we saw, me neque censurae legem mollisse neque ulla/​labe mea nostros erubuisse focos, “that I never relaxed a regulation of the censorship, nor did our hearths blush owing to my fall from grace”; at lines 43–​44 non fuit exuviis tantis Cornelia damnum:/​quin et erat magnae pars imitanda domus, “Nor was Cornelia a loss to such military spoils: why she was even a part to be imitated of a great house”, at lines 45–​50 nec mea mutata est aetas, sine crimine tota est:/​viximus insignes inter utramque facem./​mi natura dedit leges a sanguine ductas, ne possem melior iudicis esse metu, quaelibet austeras de me ferat urna tabellas:/​turpior assessu non erit ulla meo, “Nor was my life changed, it was entirely without charges of immorality; we lived as distinguished individuals between the torches of marriage and death. Nature gave me laws sustained by my blood, that I not be better merely by fear of a judge, whatever urn may bring harsh voting tablets about me, no woman will be more shamed from having me sit beside her”. At lines 51–​54 she compares herself favourably to the morally vindicated Aemilia and Claudia; at lines 71–​72 she declares haec est feminei merces extrema triumphi,/​laudat ubi emeritum libera fama rogum, “this is the ultimate reward of a woman’s triumph, when unbiased speech praises her bed, its service complete”. Cornelia’s references to her three children deserve notice as well, as do her references to her politically achieving brother. She first mentions her offspring at line 12, calling them famae pignora tanta meae, “trustworthy witnesses to my respectable reputation”; cites them again in lines 61–​63 ettamen merui generosos vestis honores,/​nec mea de sterili facta rapina domo/​tu, Lepide, et tu, Paulle, meum post fata levamen/​condita sunt vestro lumina nostra sinu, “And nevertheless I earned the honourable rewards of a robe, nor did my snatching away occur from a home without offspring; you, Lepidus, and you, Paullus, my consolation after death/​my eyes were closed in your embrace”; and orders her daughter in lines 68–​70 fac teneas unum nos imitata virum/​et serie fulcite genus: mihi cumba volenti/​solvitur aucturis tot mea facta meis, “make sure that you, having imitated me, cling to one husband. And support our family by your children; with me willing the boat sets sail with so many of my family about to increase my deeds”. At lines 65–​66, Cornelia recalls vidimus et fratrem sellam geminasse curulem;/​consule quo, facto tempore rapta soror, “we have also seen my brother twice obtain the curule chair/​made consul at the time his sister was snatched away”. Cornelia’s mother Scribonia and half-​sister Julia, whom she specifically mentions, and such female forbears as Scipio Africanus’ wife Aemilia and daughter Cornelia, whom I have mentioned, share a common feature: all four, like Cornelia, had given birth to at least three children. By 16 B C E , Augustus’ moral and marital legislation was rewarding freeborn women with three children by exempting them from the control of a legal guardian. Although only

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160  Judith P. Hallett those women alive at this time could enjoy this benefit, their proven fecundity further associates them with Cornelia and her claims to moral excellence.18 Strikingly, Scipio Aemilianus, whose adoption into the Cornelii Scipiones had blended the families of Cornelia and her husband Paullus during the mid-​ second century BCE , produced no issue in his troubled marriage to Sempronia, daughter of Aemilia’s daughter Cornelia.19 On this front, therefore, Cornelia and Paullus had proved themselves superior to these particular ancestors. As for the success of Cornelia’s consular brother, even though Propertius does not have Cornelia refer to any other elite woman in her role as sister to a politically ambitious male, he thereby implies that good names, and good works, were expected from female siblings within and beyond the confines of Roman aristocratic families, and accrued to the credit of their politically aspiring brothers. I have elsewhere likened Cornelia’s self-​presentation, albeit as scripted by Propertius, to that of Augustus himself in his, considerably later, Res Gestae Divi Augusti. Both works are written in the first person, employ a self-​righteous mode of self-​description, and share the aim of justifying their subject’s life and enumerating their subject’s contributions to the Roman state; they utilize some of the same vocabulary and address some of the same topics as well. At the very least one may conclude that the two works belong to the same Roman aristocratic sepulchral tradition, by this point in time a tradition that glorified both sexes for many of the same qualities and deeds. The themes common to both include an emphasis on their devotion to older kin, concern for acting with proper respect towards their parent of the same sex, and their involvement with their offspring’s preparation for adulthood.20 The words that figure in both Propertius 4.11 and the Res Gestae include pignora, here in the sense of “pledges”, which Cornelia twice applies to her own children, and that Augustus uses at RGDA 32 for the sons of the Parthian king entrusted to his keeping. Cornelia’s final statement, sim digna merendo, “may I be worthy of being judged deserving”, resembles Augustus’ claim at RGDA 34 that he received his name pro merito meo, “in accordance with what I deserve”. Meriting scrutiny, too, are Cornelia’s reference to herself at line 44 as magnae pars imitanda domus, “part of a great household which must be imitated” and command to her daughter at line 68, fac teneas unum nos imitata virum; “make sure that you, having imitated me, cling to one husband”. At RGDA 8.5, Augustus similarly takes credit, with the verb imitari in the passive periphrastic, necessity construction also employed by Cornelia, for leaving posterity with multarum rerum exemplaimitanda, “instances of many things that must be imitated”. Both Cornelia and Augustus, therefore, claim to command political reverence because of their exemplary, meritorious moral conduct, which includes responsibility for protecting children. Curiously, children do not bulk large in the public images of our US political power couples. Liddy Dole and Elaine Chao are both childless.21 Hillary and Bill Clinton only have one child, Chelsea, a political activist in

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Love poet’s script 161 her own right who has recently given birth to two children. Although she has at times attracted attention for her involvement in her parents’ political undertakings, she has played a far more circumscribed role than that accorded to three of Donald Trump’s children, and Trump’s son-​in-​law, during the Trump campaign and administration. Needless to say, the male members of both Roman and contemporary American power couples primarily exercise power by holding elective and appointive positions that control public activities overseen by the Roman state (or, in the case of Bob Dole’s pitching for Viagra, attempt to increase private erotic activity by elderly males). Propertius depicts Cornelia as furnishing an admired model of Roman behavioural conduct, rather than as holding an office that passes or administers laws. Yet he does portray her as dictating to her husband and children how to interact with one another after her death, and thereby exerting control over individuals residing in a household at the centre of Roman political power. Again, Cornelia does not utter her own words but rather performs the script of a love elegist. This script, inserted as a “cold closing”, without context, appears at the end of a poetic book devoted to pondering and redefining Propertius’ own literary accomplishments and legacy, by engaging with early and contemporary Roman history as well as Callimachean aetiology.22 And Propertius invites his readers to compare Cornelia in 4.11 with his innamorata Cynthia at 4.7.13–​96 by portraying both as speaking to their male partners from beyond the grave. Propertius depicts Cynthia as expressing love for him, in, for example, lines 69–​ 70, sic mortis lacrimis vitae sanamus amores:/​celo ego perfidiae crimina multa tuae, “thus with the tears of death we cure the loves of life, I hide many charges of your faithlessness”, and as attesting to their mutually gratifying physical passion. In lines 19–​20, he recalls saepe Venus trivio commissa, et pectore mixto/​fecerunt tepidas pallia nostra vias, “often the act of lovemaking was performed at the crossroads, and our coverings warmed up the streets after our upper bodies had blended together”; in lines 93–​94 she asserts nunc te possideant aliae: mox sola tenebo;/​mecum eris, et mixtis ossibus ossa teram, “now let other women possess you: soon I alone will hold you, and I will grind down our bones after our bones have been blended together”. He thus represents her as more to his liking than Cornelia, who does neither in addressing Paullus.23 But Cornelia resembles Cynthia by attempting to control the conduct of those still abiding in the world they left behind. For in lines 71–​76 she dictates to Propertius how to treat surviving members of her household, stating sed tibi mandata damus, si forte moveris,/​si e non totum Chloridos herba tenet./​nutrix in tremulis ne quid desideret annis/​Parthenie; potuit nec tibi avara fuit; deliciaeque meae Latris, cui nomen ab usu est/​ne speculum dominae porrrigat illa novae, “But we entrust you with orders, if by chance you are moved, if Chloris’ drug-​ plant does not bewitch you completely. May my nurse Parthenie not lack anything in her trembling years: she could have acted greedily towards you, but she did not. And may my darling slave Latris, whose name reflects her role of service, not hold out a mirror to a new mistress”.

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162  Judith P. Hallett In lines 77–​78, she orders him to destroy his verses about her, demanding et quoscumque meo fecisti nomine versus/​ure mihi:  laudes sine habere meas, “and burn for me whatever verses you have composed that name me:  stop claiming honours belonging to me”. In lines 81–​86, she even demands that he post an elegiac couplet honouring her memory on a pillar in Tibur by the Anio: ramosis Anio qua pomifer incubat arvis,/​et numquam, Herculeo numine, pallet ebur,/​hoc carmen media, dignum me, scribe columna,/​sed breve, quod currens vector ab urbe legat:/​’sed tiburna iacet hic aurea Cynthia terra;/​accessit ripae laus, Aniene, tuae. “where the fruit-​bearing Anio broods over branch-​ shaded fields, and ivory never grows yellow, owing to Hercules’ divine presence, in the middle of a column write this verse, worthy of me, but brief: here lies golden Cynthia on Tiburtine land, honour accrues to your bank, Anio”. As Hutchinson underscores, Propertius represents Cornelia as not only extolling her male Scipionic ancestors and their tomb but also as speaking as a Scipio. For she evokes the final line of the poet Ennius’ epitaph for Scipio Africanus, mi soli caeli maxima porta patet, in the elegy’s final couplet: “even heaven (caelum) has lain open (patuit) to virtuous ways: may I be worthy of being judged deserving, whose bones may be conveyed to honored ancestors”.24 Yet Propertius never has Cornelia mention her own biological father. Scholars are not even clear who he was.25 Furthermore, Propertius’ portrayal of Cornelia as seeking to be identified publicly with certain deeds by certain men in her family –​most notably the lamentation of her stepfather Augustus –​rather than those of others, such as the father she never acknowledges, resembles his depiction of Cynthia in 4.7. There Propertius characterizes Cynthia as opting to be associated with him for eternity, claiming in line 53 that she has kept faith with him (me servasse fidem), and demanding to be publicly commemorated after her own death by him: not, however, by the body of poems he has written in her honour, earning him praise through her, but by a new, single elegiac couplet that does not credit him as its author. Finally, in contrasting the sexually repressed and respectable matron Cornelia with his erotically demanding and unconventional inamorata Cynthia, Propertius also points up the restrictions imposed on Cornelia’s emotional existence and mode of self-​expression by her social circumstances. Abiding by these restrictions, of course, enabled Cornelia to function successfully as the wife in an Augustan power couple. For Propertius depicts Cornelia as constantly harping on her moral perfection as an ideal Augustan matron, and never claiming to love her husband and children. Strikingly, her half-​ sister, Augustus’ daughter Julia, apparently took these restrictions far less seriously, conducting herself more like an elegiac puella, as personified by the fictionalized figure of Propertius’ Cynthia or the actual, historical, nobly born female love elegist Sulpicia.26 Indeed, on the matter of control, Propertius testifies to Augustus’ conduct as an all-​controlling paternal figure to his stepchildren, nieces and nephews as well as his biological offspring throughout his principate, limiting the power available to any Augustan power couple.

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Notes 1 For Propertius 4.11 as regina elegiarum, “queen of the elegies”, see, for example, Huebner (1877), in a volume honouring Theodor Mommsen. It is also Mommsen who is credited with labelling the Res Gestae Divi Augusti, to be discussed below, “Queen of Inscriptions”; see, for example, Lewis and Reinhold (1955), 9. 2 For the term “power couple”, see Crum (2016): “To the likely chagrin of language traditionalists, a bunch of edgy new words were added to the Oxford English Dictionary last month. Notable among the new [2016] OED editions, which were dominated by netspeak, was a phrase that’s relatively new even though it’s not tied to technology: power couple. The phrase stands out, and not just because it’s a two-​word entry […] What’s interesting about ‘power couple’ is that it marks a change not in technological advancement, but in social advancement. Although powerful men and women have been envied and revered in the past –​and certainly ambitious couples existed long before this dictionary addition, if we’re to include Sonny and Cher, Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, etc. –​there doesn’t seem to have been a word to describe a pairing of romantic partners who are each successful in their own right. ‘I think you would expect this word to come about in the late 20th century’, Martin said. ‘We’re seeing two ambitious people with powerful careers being married to each other’ ”. The first recorded use of the word, according to the OED, is from the US periodical Newsweek in 1983. The sentence reads, “Robert and Elizabeth Dole have become a Washington power couple, heirs to all the attention and mystique the title implies”. For the pre-​and post-​1983 political careers of Robert and Elizabeth Dole, see their respective entries in Wikipedia as well as Dole (2005). 3 For Dole as a public spokesperson for erectile dysfunction remedies, see Dole and Jones (2003), to which Dole wrote the foreword, as well as Dole’s Wikipedia entry. 4 On Paullus Aemilius Lepidus, consul suffectus in 34 B CE , censor in 22 B CE and nephew of the triumvir Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, and his sons, Lucius Aemilius Paullus, consul in 1 C E , and Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, consul in 6 CE , see, for example, Syme (1986), 28, 34, 41, 69, 95, 109–​11, 126, 131, 147, 150–​2, 153, 166, 167, 205, 246, 262, 399, and 429. See also Hallett (1986), 73–​88 and Hutchinson (2006),  230–​2. 5 For Hillary and Bill Clinton, see their Wikipedia entries as well as Clinton (2005); for Chao and McConnell, see their Wikipedia entries as well as MacGillis (2014). 6 For Fulvia as orator in 52 BC E after the death of Clodius, see Gladhill (2018); for sources on Fulvia as warrior, see Hallett (2015). 7 For our ancient sources on Hortensia’s speech in 42 B CE , see, for example, Hallett (2018). 8 For scholarly studies on Propertius 4.11, see Hutchinson (2006), 232, whose text I follow here. 9 See the reporting of Watkins (2006) on this episode, characterized as “causing headaches for Hillary”. 10 See Killough and Gray (2017); Chao of course quoted a 1969 country song about wifely loyalty popularized by Tammy Wynette. 11 Hutchinson (2006), 231, who calls attention to the physical tomb of the Scipios, “important for the family”, in contextualizing Cornelia’s words as an “aetiological expansion of an epigram on an object”, in this instance a funerary epitaph.

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164  Judith P. Hallett 12 See Hutchinson (2006), 238–​9, who observes that in this passage “Africa (Carthage) is contrasted with Rome by the apostrophe, and with the Scipios, also ‘dead’, by colendos (37) and iaces. A metaphorical tomb of Carthage is evoked, strikingly in this poem, with the Scipios’ deeds written above the dead instead of the grave inscription”. 13 For the natal and adoptive families of Scipio Aemilianus, see Astin (1967), 12–​14. 14 Hutchinson (2006), 231: “C. apparently claims to descend from the Younger Scipio and so from Aemilius Paullus. Both claims are impossible (there is a light reminder at 97), like Paullus’ claim to descend from Aemilius Paullus (29–​30, 39–​40 nn). Paullus did not even belong by descent to the Aemilii Paulli […] C.’s membership of the Cornelii Scipiones is made problematic by her brother, apparently from the same marriage”. 15 For ancient sources on this Claudia, see Hutchinson (2006), 241. 16 For the Claudian connections of Augustus’ wife Livia and her two sons, see Syme (1986), 20, 37, 94, 99, 100, 199, and 257. 17 For the Claudian connections of Augustus’ sister Octavia and her two daughters by her first husband, Gaius Claudius Marcellus, see Syme (1986), 58, 141–​4, 147–​ 9, 150–​3, 166, and 399. For Fulvia’s “Claudian children” from her first marriage to Publius Clodius Pulcher, see Syme, 149 and 398. 18 For Augustus’ moral and marital legislation, which rewarded freeborn women with three children by exempting them from the control of a legal guardian, see Treggiari, (1991), 60–​80 and 277–​98; she dates the marriage law to 18 B CE , and argues that the adultery law must have come into effect by 16 B CE . 19 For the childless marriage of Scipio Aemilianus, see the discussion of Astin (1967), 235–​6, who also emphasizes that Scipio, who had been adopted himself, could have adopted a son, and speculates as to why. 20 See Hallett (1986), 82, who adds, “The resemblances between the two works may, of course be coincidental; parallels in other funerary texts indicate that Augustus may not have had Propertius’ Cornelia-​ elegy in mind when composing the RGDA. But […] circumstances immediately suggest Cornelia’s personal value to Augustus: as female symbol of her patrilineage, and as close kindred to himself and his favored relations”. 21 Bob Dole, however, has a daughter by his late first wife, Phyllis Holden Dole Buzick Macey, a physical therapist; McConnell has three offspring by his first wife, Sherrill Redmon, retired director of the Sophia Smith Collection of Women’s manuscripts and archives at Smith College, and collaborator with legendary feminist and Smith alumna Gloria Steinem. 22 See the discussion of Hutchinson (2006), 1–​21, on the Callimachean and other distinctive features of Book 4, as well as its contemporary, Propertian and elegiac contexts, and structural “shape”. 23 See the discussions of Hallett (1973) and Hutchinson (2006), 175 and 188. 24 See Hallett (1986), 78, for Cornelia’s evocation of Ennius’ epitaph for Scipio Africanus, A sole exoriente supra Maeotis paludes/​Nemo est quo factis aequiperare queat/​. Si fas endo plagas caelestum ascendere cuiquam est/​Mi soli caeli maxima porta patet. “From the sun rising up above the swamps of Maeotis there is no one of the caliber to equal his accomplishments. If it is right for anyone to climb up to the expanses of the immortals, the greatest gate of the sky lies open to me alone”. 25 On the disputed identity of Cornelia’s biological father, see Syme (1986), 246–​7. 26 For the conduct of Cornelia’s half-​sister Julia, see, for example, Richlin (1992).

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Bibliography Astin A. E. (1967) Scipio Aemilianus. Oxford: Clarendon Press. https://​enwikipedia. org/​wiki/​Elaine_​Chaohttp://​enwikipedia.org/​wiki/​Bill_​Clinton Clinton B. (2005) My Life. New  York:  Vintage Books. http://​enwikipedia.org/​wiki/​ Hillary_​Clinton Crum, M. (2016) “How Did ‘Power Couple’ Become the New Standard for Relationship Success?” Huffington Post, 16 July. https://​enwikipedia.org/​wiki/​Bob_​Dole Dole B. (2005). One Soldier’s Story: A Memoir. New York: Harper Collins. Dole B. and Jones J. (2003) Overcoming Impotence:  A Leading Urologist Tells You Everything You Need to Know. Amherst, NY:  Prometheus Books. https://​ enwikipedia.org/​wiki/​Elizabeth_​Dole Gladhill B. (2018) “Women from the Rostra: Fulvia and the Pro Milone” In Gray C., Balbo A., Marshall R. M.  A. and Steel C. E.  W. (eds) Reading Republican Oratory:  Reconstruction, Contexts, Receptions. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 265–​308. Hallett J. P. (1973) “The Role of Women in Roman Elegy: Counter-​Cultural Feminism” Arethusa 6.1, 103–​24. Hallett J. P. (1986) “Queens, Princeps and Women of the Augustan Elite: Propertius’ Cornelia Elegy and the Res Gestae Divi Augusti”. In Winkes R. (ed.) The Age of Augustus. Louvain-​la-​Neuve/​Providence: Center for Old World Archaeology and Art,  73–​88. Hallett J. P. (2015) “Fulvia: The Representation of an Elite Roman Woman Warrior”. In Fabre-​Serris J. and Keith A. (eds) Women and War in Antiquity. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 247–​65. Hallett J. P. (2018) “Oratorum Romanarum Fragmenta Liberae Rei Publicae: The Letter of Cornelia, Mater Gracchorum, and the Speeches of her Father and Son”. In Gray Ch., Balbo A., Marshall R. M.  A., and Steel C. E.  W. (eds) Reading Republican Oratory:  Reconstruction, Contexts, Reception. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 309–​18. Huebner E. (1877) In Commentationes Philologae in honorem Theodori Mommsen scripserunt amici. Berlin: Weidmann, 98–​113. Hutchinson G. (ed.) (2006) Propertius:  Elegies Book IV. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press. Killough A. and Gray N. (2017) “Elaine Chao on Trump’s Criticism of McConnell: ‘I stand by my man -​both of them’” CNN 15 August. Lewis N. and Reinhold M. (1955) Roman Civilization. Volume II:The Empire. New York: Columbia University Press. MacGillis A. (2014) The Cynic:  The Political Education of Mitch McConnell. New York: Simon and Schuster. https://​en//​wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Mitch_​McConnell Richlin A. (1992) “Julia’s Jokes, Galla Placidia, and the Roman Use of Women as Political Icons”. In Garlick, B., Allen P., and Dixon S. (eds), Stereotypes of Women in Power: Historical Perspectives and Revisionist Views. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press,  65–​91. Syme R. (1986) The Augustan Aristocracy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Treggiari S. (1991) Roman Marriage: Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Watkins E. (2016) “Bill Clinton Meeting Causes Headaches for Hillary”. CNN 30 June.

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9  Claudius and his wives The normality of the exceptional? Thomas Späth

In the context of the general problem which orients the case studies of the present volume, I would like to question the notion of exceptionality of the couples studied. For my contribution, I have chosen a rather more anthropological than political approach, in order to consider these couples from the point of view of their practices of married life instead of their institutional positions. Thus, the ensuing reflections consider the question as to whether an extraordinary social and political situation necessarily leads to an out-​ of-​the-​ordinary conception of marriage. The examined “cases” are those of the Roman emperor Claudius (10 BCE –​54 C E ) and his marriages to Valeria Messalina (ca. 25–​48 C E ) and Julia Agrippina (15–​59 C E ).1 The first part of this contribution leads us to the heart of the discussion about the ideal wife for the Prince that Tacitus puts into the mouths of the freedmen of Claudius after the death of Messalina and before his marriage to Agrippina the Younger.2 The year 48 CE is a pivotal moment for Claudius and the course of his marriages, a moment that allows us to look backwards to the years with Messalina in the third section and then take a prospective look forward to the years with Agrippina. However, the contest between freedmen recalls the earlier arguments related by Tacitus, that is, the debate of the year 21 C E . This debate, which, precisely for the contradictions it contains, is rich in explanations regarding marriage in collective representations, is discussed in the second section of this chapter. Finally, in my “conclusion”, I try to transform the contradiction of the title of this contribution into some hypotheses open for discussion.

The ideal wife for the Prince: Tac. Ann.  12.1–​9 At the very beginning of the twelfth book of the Annals, Tacitus notes: The murder of Messalina shook the imperial household: there followed a contest among the freedmen, who should select a consort for Claudius, with his impatience of celibacy and his subordination to the orders of wives.3

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Claudius and his wives 167 The narrative then presents the three freedmen Narcissus, Callistus, and Pallas, who discuss the advantages and the disadvantages of the three possible candidates to succeed Messalina at the emperor’s side. As Judith Ginsberg notes in her posthumous publication Representing Agrippina,4 the debate is a parody of a consilium principis. Similarly, Ronald Syme uses this passage as an example for defending his postulate that there is humour in Tacitus’ works, referring to it as the “mockery of a cabinet council”.5 Obviously, one is not obliged to follow Syme’s statement nor consider Tacitus a particularly humorous author. However, if Tacitus uses the textual style of the parody, we can use it also for our interpretation, as the parody is a form of intertextuality and necessarily transforms pre-​existing texts. When Tacitus stages a debate between the freedmen of whom each one strives to override the others in his recommendations for a certain woman as Claudius’ future wife, he places the stereotypes of the good wife in their mouths. This is precisely my point of interest in this fictive debate, and the one we can retain from the first nine chapters of the twelfth book of the Annals. Here, we also encounter a former consul and censor touting, before the senators, the future merits of Agrippina the Younger for the imperial couple. Let us examine more closely what is expected of the wife of the Prince and the life of the imperial couple. The three contenders for a new marriage with Claudius are Aelia Paetina, Lollia Paulina, and Iulia Agrippina. Narcissus supports Aelia Paetina, who was already married to Claudius. According to Suetonius, Claudius separated from her ex levibus offensis (“for trivial offences”).6 She was the daughter of a former consul and Claudius’ second wife. The two had a daughter named Antonia. Lollia Paulina, the candidate of freedman Callistus, also belonged to a consular family. The emperor Claudius married her in 38 CE, only to repudiate her the following year. Lastly, there is Iulia Agrippina, or Agrippina the Younger, who was supported by the freedman Pallas. She was the sister of the emperor Caligula and therefore the niece of Claudius by her father Germanicus. She married Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus in 28 CE at the age of 13 and gave birth to their son L. Domitius Ahenobarbus, the future emperor Nero, in 37 CE. Her husband died when she was 25 years old. She remarried,7 but was widowed again shortly after.8 Here are the arguments for the best qualities for the wife of the princeps, as outlined by Tacitus: Narcissus discoursed on his early marriage, on the common daughter (for Antonia was Paetina’s child), on the fact that no innovation in his domestic life would be entailed by the return of an accustomed spouse, who would regard Britannicus and Octavia  –​next in dearness to her own  –​with anything rather than stepmotherly aversion. Callistus held that she was disqualified by her longstanding divorce, and, if recalled, would by the very fact be inclined to arrogance. A far wiser course was to bring in Lollia, who, as she had never known motherhood, would

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168  Thomas Späth be immune from jealousy, and could take the place of a parent to her step-​children. Pallas gave the highest praise for Agrippina, because she brought with her the grandson of Germanicus, who fully deserved an imperial position: it would be plainly honourable that the imperial fortune unite to himself a famous stock, the posterity of the Julian and Claudian families, and it would ensure that a princess of tried fecundity, still in the vigour of youth, should not transfer the glory of the Caesars into another family!9 In this debate of the freedmen,10 Aelia Paetina’s recommendation by Narcissus is based on: 1) the vetus matrimonium, the habitude of the preceding marriage and 2) the common daughter, which 3) presents the advantage that nothing would change with Aelia Paetina, the first wife or sueta coniux (“accustomed spouse”), who would not be a hateful stepmother to Britannicus and Octavia, the children that Claudius had with Messalina, as they are close kin to her daughter. Callistus is opposed to this union, asserting that the long-​standing divorce disqualifies Aelia Paetina, and arguing that she might become vain if Claudius takes her back. Putting forward the third argument mentioned by Callistus, he proposes Lollia Paulina, for, being childless, she would have no jealous feelings towards the children of Claudius. For the first two freedmen in Tacitus’ account, the spectre of the mean stepmother11 seems to play a central role. Pallas, however, does not even take a position on this argument and the two other candidates but rather promotes Agrippina for reasons of dynastic politics.12 Indeed, she would bring the grandchild of Germanicus into the imperial household, the worthy descendant who would reunite the Iulian and Claudian families. He backs his argument by drawing attention to the fact that Agrippina, having proved her fecundity and being in the prime of her life, should be prevented from taking the prestige of the Caesars into another domus. The deliberation of the freedmen is not the only narrative element in Tacitus’ staging of the new marriage of Claudius. He also mentions that the women themselves “caught fire”–​the word used is exarserant13–​ comparing their nobilitas, forma, opes, that is, the “nobility” of their lineages, their “beauty” and their “prestige”, in order to prove their worthiness of tanto matrimonio, of “such a marriage”. A third element must be added to this catalogue of qualities required of the wife of this “extraordinary couple”, namely, the speech given by Lucius Vitellius in front of the Senate. As marriage between an uncle and his niece is a transgression of the traditional prohibition of union up to the sixth degree of kinship,14 Vitellius, who has been consul several times and who has just been censor alongside Claudius, has taken the responsibility of securing the Senate’s approval of this transgression. First, he asks Claudius to accept the orders of the Senate and the people for the marriage to Agrippina,15 then, at the beginning of the year 49 C E , he speaks to the Senate as follows:16

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Claudius and his wives 169 The extremely onerous labours of the princeps, which embraced the management of a world, stood in need of support, so that he might pursue his deliberations for the public good, undisturbed by domestic anxiety. And what more decent solace to that truly censorian spirit than to take a wife, his partner in weal and woe, to whose charge might be committed his inmost thoughts and the little children of a Prince unused to dissipation or to pleasure, but to submission to the law from his early youth? […]17 Since it was the universal advice that the emperor should marry, the choice ought to fall on a woman distinguished by nobility of birth, by experience of motherhood, and by purity of character. No long inquiry was needed to convince them that in the lustre of her family Agrippina came foremost:  she had given proof of her fruitfulness, and her moral excellences harmonized with the rest. But most extraordinary was that, by the providence of the gods, the union would be between a widow and a prince with experience of no marriage but his own”.18 The three elements of this dossier concerning the ideal wife for the extraordinary couple formed of the Prince and his wife, that is, the opinion of the freedmen, the women outlining their qualities and Vitellius’ speech before the Senate, reveal the following requirements: 1) the wife of an emperor must come from a family belonging to nobility in the strict sense defined by Matthias Gelzer, that is, of consular ancestry.19 2)  Beauty and opes  –​ ops both in the meaning of material wealth and, figuratively, of prestige –​are advantages that the women display. 3) The candidate must have proved her fecundity and, in the best case, produced an heir who can guarantee the continuity of the lineage. 4) In spite of her status as a mother, the candidate is expected to show a motherly attitude towards the children already born and not the typical hatred of the stepmother. This is particularly important in the family situation of the domus Augusta and, more generally, in the senatorial aristocracy in which stepfamilies are the rule rather than the exception.20 5) The organisation of the domus is the wife’s duty, thus relieving her husband of the burden of household concerns so that he can devote himself to political matters. 6) Furthermore, the wife of the princeps also relieves her husband by taking care of the children. 7) The wife must be a socia, which can only be translated into “partner”, despite the necessarily hierarchical character of the Roman understanding of marriage,21 for the “intimate thoughts” of the husband, to whom she is a companion “for better or for worse”. 8) The wife of an emperor must demonstrate exemplary virtuous behaviour, which, of course, includes her pudicitia, that is, the restriction of her sexuality solely to intercourse with her husband.

The marriage of the Prince: a marriage like all others? The surprising point of this catalogue of qualities of an ideal wife for the imperial couple is that it consists of a commonplace list of collective representations of marriage among the Roman elite.22 In the famous senatorial

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170  Thomas Späth debate on magistrates’ wives being forbidden to accompany their husbands on their trips to the provinces, the marital life of an aristocratic couple is largely described by the same characteristics. In this senatorial debate under the reign of Tiberius in the year 21 CE , Tacitus depicts the senator Aulus Caecina Severus (suffect consul during the year 6 CE ) in the third book of the Annals, as he proposes the ban:23 he begins his speech by repeating numerous times that he is on good terms –​concordia –​with his wife and presents her as being exemplarily fecund, having borne six children. He continues by stating that he applies the same rules in his domus as he demands for the res publica. His wife has always stayed in Italy while he, for 40 years, has served in several provinces. Caecina continues his speech by listing the disastrous consequences of the presence of women among “the allies and the foreign peoples”. The speech culminates with the following statement that is often cited as an example of alleged Roman misogyny:24 noninbecillum tantum et imparem laboribus sexum, sed, licentia adsit, saevum ambitiosum, potestatis avidum. (“the [feminine] sex is not only weak and unable to efforts; give it scope, and it turns savage, ambitious, avid for power”). It is anachronistic to qualify this sentence as misogynistic; rather it is an expression of the discourse on gender in the Roman society –​however, the precise explanation of this remark would divert us from our subject.25 Let us look instead at the expectations of the married couple that M. Valerius Corvinus Messalla –​backed by the vast majority of the Senate –​ sets against the proposition of Caecina in his answer. After having underlined the fact that, fortunately, the provinces are no longer enemy lands and that the presence of wives does not require much higher additional costs, he states:26 Certainly, he who set about a war must gird up his loins; but, when he returned after his labour, what consolations more legitimate than those of his wife? But a few women had lapsed into intrigue or avarice. Well, were not too many of the magistrates themselves vulnerable to temptation in more shapes than one? Yet governors still went out to governorships! […] It is vain to label our own inertness with another title: the fault lay with the husband, if the woman broke bounds. Moreover, it would be unjust that, through the weakness of one or two, married men in general should be deprived of their companionship (consortia27) in fortune and misfortune, while at the same time the sex frail by nature was left alone, exposed to its own voluptuousness and the appetites of others. Hardly by surveillance on the spot could the marriage-​tie be kept undamaged: what would be the case if, for a term of years, it were forgotten as by divorce? […] Drusus added a few sentences upon his own married life: […] He had himself made an excursion to Illyricum; and, if there was a purpose to serve, he was prepared to go to other countries –​but rarely with equanimity, if he were separated from the well-​beloved wife who was the mother of their many common children. The comparison of the list of qualities necessary to be a good wife for the imperial couple (supra, first section) and the considerations of the senators on

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Claudius and his wives 171 what makes a good marriage, provides us with a basis for the hypothesis indicated in the title of this contribution, “the normality of the exceptional”. Indeed, it appears that the requirements for the marital life of the “power couple” formed by the Prince and his wife are nothing extraordinary. On the contrary, they are the same as for any other couple of the Roman elite. However, up until now we have taken normative statements into consideration used in fictive debates between freedmen, as well as the speech before the Senate staged by the historian Tacitus in the Annals. In my opinion, there are good reasons not to doubt the reality of these norms as part of the collective imaginary of the Roman elite, at least at the time when he wrote these texts. Tacitus did not write a treatise on marriage, such as Plutarchus did far from Rome.28 Therefore, he is not reflecting on the best rules determining marital bliss. Instead, he uses commonplace and widespread ideas, not to say truisms, on marriage and married life, resorting to them in order to integrate them into a narrative in which the argumentation pursues a completely different objective. For these reasons, I postulate that said norms and requirements are in accordance to reality –​but, as I would like to specify, to a normative reality, of which the practical application in a social reality might well lead to results only partially corresponding to them. In order to understand certain aspects of this reality, I would like to take a look back at Messalina and her marriage to Claudius, and then examine more closely the couple formed by Claudius and Agrippina for a certain time.

Claudius and Messalina: reading between the lines Obviously, from the outset there are narrow boundaries for the attempt to study the marital practices of Messalina and Claudius. On one hand, the literary sources do not say much about what happens in the marital chamber or, for that matter, in the household. On the other hand, the loss of the books of the Annals by Tacitus that deal with the years 37 to 47 C E deprives us of the historian’s commentaries. However, these texts may well not have offered us much insight into everyday life of the imperial couple. Indeed, the second difficulty for the needs of my considerations is the use that ancient authors make of the wives. From Tacitus to Cassius Dio, and including Suetonius, not to mention the satirist Juvenal, the wives of emperors only occur in their narratives with a specific argumentative function. Sandra Joshel analysed this use of female figures in her article “Female Desire and the Discourse of Empire: Tacitus’s Messalina” published more than 20 years ago and in which she notes: “Tacitus’s Messalina is a representation that enables the historian to draw a difficult distinction between present and past, good empire and bad. As such, Messalina functions as a sign in a discourse of imperial power that simultaneously informs, if not determines, her image”.29 This observation can be expanded to more women than solely Messalina, as it characterises the female figures of the domus Augusta depicted by Tacitus in his narrative as a whole, and  –​with the necessary adaptations  –​it also encompasses the treatment of the wives, the concubines, the daughters, and

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172  Thomas Späth other female relatives of the emperors by other authors. What we find in these texts are actually constructed images of the past that are necessarily used as a dark and negative background upon which the present time of writing stands out in its new brightness. Current research is confronted by the fact that the female figures do not interest the authors as such, but are used solely as an argument against the incompetence and the abuse of power by the Princes to whom these female figures are tied. Still, we can try to read “between the lines” in order to obtain some fragments of factual information on the everyday married life of Claudius and Messalina. First, what is most notable is the consistent image of Messalina as the “greatest nymphomaniac in history”;30 Juvenal’s sixth satire31 is not the only text to depict such a portrait of the meretrix Augusta (“Augustan whore”), since Cassius Dio adds that Messalina even transformed the imperial palace into a brothel, forcing many women within to have multiple sexual contacts.32 W. Eck, a historian who is certainly not contaminated by postmodern theories on gender nor by deconstructionist reading methods, comments on these stories as follows: “Vor allem die Berichte bei Iuvenal und Cassius Dio tragen so offensichtlich die Zeichen des Unwahrscheinlichen an sich, dass sie, zumindest im Detail, nicht ernst genommen werden dürfen. Für eine Charakterisierung Messalinas als grösste Nymphomanin der Geschichte fehlen ganz sicher die notwendigen verlässlichen Quellen. Alles, was in diesem Sinne berichtet wird, hat keine zuverlässige Basis”.33 Such stories “with no reliable basis” cannot be taken into consideration here, nor can the pornographic image of Messalina or her alleged marriage to C. Silius.34 Instead, let us try to gather the scarce fragments of information concerning the relationship of the imperial couple. Thus, we can state that the wife of the Prince fulfilled her childbearing function, since she gave birth to Octavia in 39 or 40 C E , and to Britannicus shortly after Claudius’ accession to power in the year 41 C E .35 There are also several testimonies regarding her care to secure the position of prospective successor for this common son. A certain number of the murders, the instigation of which is attributed to Messalina, are motivated by the social obligation of a mother to ensure her son’s future. Likewise, according to particular sources, certain people in the entourage of the Prince strived to maintain a good relationship with Messalina, such as the praetorian prefects Lusius Geta and Rufrius Crispinus as well as Lucius Vitellius.36 This concern does not come as a surprise, since every woman of the Roman aristocracy could exert influence on her husband. This kind of influence was well accepted, as long as it was exercised inside the domus and, outside of the home, the decisions appeared to be taken by the husband.37 In the case of important figures of Claudius’ entourage seeking to have a good relationship with his wife, this indicates either that the amicitia with the princeps required the same with Messalina or that a good relationship with her might be able to provide, or at least facilitate, access to the princeps. Accordingly, such an influence of the wife on Claudius could only succeed if there were regular communication between husband and wife.

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Claudius and his wives 173 If one reads between the lines, one anecdote, by which Suetonius intends to illustrate Claudius’ stupidity and his feeble-​mindedness, confirms that the imperial couple apparently had the habit of eating meals together: thus, after the murder of Messalina, Claudius, reclining to eat, inquired as to why the domina did not come to eat.38 Furthermore, we can consider another detail, even if it is taken from Juvenal’s portrayal of Messalina, that is, Messalina’s regular getaways to her lupanar (“brothel”) are introduced by the circumstantial expression dormire virum cum senserat uxor, “when his wife realised her husband was asleep”. We can conclude that, even to the author of the most despicable portrayal of Messalina, it seemed obvious that the imperial couple shared the same bed at night. This short analysis of what can be found behind the scandalous image of Messalina has no claim to comprehensiveness. However, it gives an idea, or at least a hint, of what the everyday life of this exceptional couple may have been like.

Agrippina in action Lastly, I would like to provide an overview of what we know about the relationship between Agrippina and Claudius, based on the analysis of the narrative sequences in the Annals of Tacitus in which Agrippina is the active subject. I undertook this research in order to critically discuss the “power” allegedly exercised by the fourth wife of Claudius.39 The actions of Agrippina described in the Annals pursue three objectives: a) her marriage to Claudius, b) the establishment of Nero as successor, c) the maintaining of her influence over her son after he took the imperial throne (this last point will not be taken into consideration here). The instruments used by the figure of Agrippina in the Annals in her undertaking of actions are either those of erotic seduction or of motherly love, the second of which the text deems as sincere with respect to Nero and as hypocritical with respect to the three older children of Claudius. As a third instrument, Agrippina allegedly also resorted to intrigues in the sense that she would gain the support of influential people by persuasion, by means of payment of money, or by having certain positions attributed to her partisans, who would then carry out actions she could not undertake by herself. In the Annals, the only direct actions mentioned as undertaken by her regarding her husband, take place either before her marriage to him or immediately before his death. Thus, by her frequent visits to her uncle Claudius, she was able to lure him by her charms,40 and, prior to their marriage, they maintained an amor illicitus.41 As for his murder, both Cassius Dio and Tacitus, unlike Suetonius, state that Agrippina herself chose the poison and administered it to Claudius. The presence of Agrippina by the side of Claudius at performances or the reception of delegations is frequently mentioned and almost always presented as proof of her ambition for power, never as an aspect of representing the domus Augusta by mutual agreement with Claudius. Finally, Tacitus and Cassius Dio

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174  Thomas Späth always attribute the numerous intrigues in the aforementioned sense to the figure of Agrippina as an active subject (albeit described as acting in a hidden manner and behind the walls of the domus), and although they do not mention Claudius as the intermediary, he certainly was in the cases where Agrippina had no means of implementing these decisions by herself, without the final say of her husband (as, for instance, the nomination of a praetorian prefect or the recall of Seneca from exile). The record of Agrippina’s actions and of the events for which cooperation between husband and wife was clearly indispensable, even though Claudius is not mentioned, is long. But still, despite possessing a significantly greater amount of information than for Messalina, we are not really better informed about the relationship between Agrippina and her imperial husband in regards to their everyday marital life. We may have to accept the finding of J. Ginsburg published in her book on Agrippina, that is, that Tacitus used well-​established stereotypes to construct a portrait of the figure of Agrippina, which forms a screen behind which the historic persona disappears. Her critical study of the textual and material sources comes to the conclusion “that we may never know much about her as a historical individual”.42

Ordinary couples in an extraordinary position If one ignores the value judgements and the argumentative function of the figures of the two wives which I have tried to approach, as well as the scandalous stories –​which are “implausible” and “with no reliable basis” in the terms of W. Eck –​, then one could claim that these are two images of female personas who are trying to obtain, preserve, and defend a position as wife and mother of Princes. The women are pursuing this goal in the context of the domus and the family and friendship ties within it. Thus, they are acting within the female norms that restrict a woman’s scope of action to the household and the positions of a wife and a mother. It cannot be denied, however, that the domus in which Messalina and Agrippina operate is not just any aristocratic domus. When the wife of a senator convinces her husband in any kind of affair, he will bring it before his peers without any guarantee of obtaining their consent. By contrast, the Prince is able to take a decision, possibly insinuated by his wife, without having to submit it to long negotiations. Nevertheless, it appears to me that one question remains open, namely, whether the usages of marriage and of married life are changed by the exceptionality of the domus in which they take place.43

Notes 1 Concerning Claudius and his wives, cf., among the numerous publications available, in particular Eck (2002); Hurley (2008); Joshel (1997); Levick (1990); Mehl (1974); Ronning (2011); Santoro L’hoir (2006), 111–​57; Wood (1992).

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Claudius and his wives 175 2 Tac. Ann. 12.1–​9. 3 Tac. Ann. 12.1.1:  Caede Messalinae convulsa principis domus, orto apud libertos certamine, quis deligeret uxorem Claudio, caelibis vitae intoleranti et coniugum imperiis obnoxio. Edition and translation of the Annals by John Jackson: Tacitus III, Loeb Classical Library 249, Cambridge, MA, 1931; Tacitus IV, Loeb Classical Library 312, Cambridge, MA, 1937; Tacitus V, Loeb Classical Library 322, Cambridge, MA, 1937. I have partially modified certain passages for the purpose of bringing the translation closer to the Latin text. 4 Ginsburg (2006), 17. 5 Syme (1958), 539. 6 Suet. Claud. 26.2 (ed. and transl. by J.C. Rolfe, Loeb Classical Library 38, Cambridge/​MA, 1914, rev. ed. 1997). 7 Marriage to C. Sallustius Passienus Crispus (presumably in 41 CE ), the adoptive son of Sallustius Crispus known for his wealth and for being a counselor to Augustus and Tiberius (cf. Tac. Ann. 3.30.2–​3) and who himself had been adopted by his grand uncle, the historian C. Sallustius Crispus. 8 The biographical details and sources concerning Agrippina have been collected by Barrett (1996). 9 Tac. Ann. 12.2.1-​3: Narcissus vetus matrimonium, filiam communem (nam Antonia ex Paetina erat), nihil in penatibus eius novum disserebat, si sueta coniunx rediret, haudquaquam novercalibus odiis visura Britannicum, Octaviam, proxima suis pignora. Callistus inprobatam longo discidio, ac si rursum adsumeretur, eo ipso superbam; longeque rectius Lolliam induci, quando nullos liberos genuisset, vacuam aemulatione et privignis parentis loco futuram. At Pallas id maxime in Agrippina laudare, quod Germanici nepotem secum traheret, dignum prorsus imperatoria fortuna:  stirpem nobilem et familiae luliae Claudiaeque posteros coniungeret, ne femina expertae fecunditatis, integra iuventa, claritudinem Caesarum aliam in domum ferret. 10 Cf. Ginsburg (2006), 10–​17. 11 Cf. the studies on the motive of the stepmother in Roman culture by Gray-​Fow (1988) and Watson (1994); for Tacitus on Livia, cf. the short commentaries by Barrett (2001). 12 Ginsburg (2006), 17–​18. 13 Tac. Ann. 12.1.1. 14 Bettini (1988). 15 Tac. Ann. 12.5.2: percunctatusque Caesarem, an iussis populi, an auctoritati senatus cederet, ubi ille unum se civium et consensui imparem respondit […]. 16 Tac. Ann. 12.5.3–​6.2. 17 Tac. Ann. 12.5.3: Gravissimos principis labores, quis orbem terrae capessat, egere adminiculis, ut domestica cura vacuus in commune consulat. Quod porro honestius censoriae mentis levamentum quam adsumere coniugem, prosperis dubiisque sociam, cui cogitationes intimas, cui parvos liberos tradat, non luxui aut voluptatibus adsuefactus, sed qui prima ab iuventa legibus obtemperavisset. 18 Tac. Ann. 12.6.1–​2: quando maritandum principem cuncti suaderent, deligi oportere feminam nobilitate puerperiis sanctimonia insignem. Nec diu anquirendum quin Agrippina claritudine generis anteiret:  datum ab ea fecunditatis experimentum et congruere artis honestas. Id vero egregium, quod provisu deum vidua iungeretur principi sua tantum matrimonia experto. 19 Gelzer (1983 [1912]); cf. Burckhardt (1990). 20 Corbier (1995).

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176  Thomas Späth 21 I would like to thank Michel Aberson for raising the question during the discussion of my presentation at the colloquium in November 2017 as to whether, in the Roman tradition of the treaties with the socii (oftentimes, during the expansion of Rome in the fourth to third centuries, cities converted to allies), the socius was rather an expression used to designate unequal relations. I referred the question to Pierre Sánchez, historian and specialist of intra-​communitary relations and of alliance treaties in the Roman world, cf. the recent publications Sánchez (2016a), Sánchez (2016b). He answered that, originally, in the context of economic or commercial relations, socius designates a business partner (for example, in the publican societies), without connotation –​hierarchical or equal –​of the nature of the relation. In the course of the expansion, the Romans used the term socii for their military allies of which they expected unequivocal obedience. However, up until the Ciceronian period, the meaning was extended to the partners of Rome as a whole, regardless of their status. I would like to thank Pierre Sánchez for this clarification. Given the dominant significance of equality between two partners of the word societas, there may be a semantic evolution which could be a euphemisation of the term. The term socius with its egalitarian connotation may be used to hide an actual unequal relation, in the same manner as a powerful aristocratic patron always addresses his younger protégé by the term amicus and never by cliens, cf. Saller (1989). 22 As the matrimonium iustum is essentially important for the transmission of the patrimony to the legitimate children, the question arises as to whether marriage was much less common among the popular classes who did not really have a patrimony to pass on. There must have been numerous couples whose legal status excluded the right to conubium (couples of freedmen and freedwomen under Junian law, peregrines or slaves or couples of mixed legal status), and therefore different forms of concubinage would have been common practice; cf. Gardner (1997); Veyne (1978), 39–​40; Veyne (1985), 45–​7. 23 Tac. Ann. 3.33.1:  Inter quae Severus Caecina censuit ne quem magistratum cui provincia obvenisset uxor comitaretur, multum ante repetito concordem sibi coniugem et sex partus enixam, seque quae in publicum statueret domi servavisse, cohibita intra Italiam, quamquam ipse pluris per provincias quadraginta stipendia explevisset. 24 Tac. Ann. 3.33.3. 25 Cf. Späth (2012), 441–​3, for a more detailed commentary on this passage. 26 Tac. Ann. 3.34.2-​6:  Bella plane accinctis obeunda; sed revertentibus post laborem quod honestius quam uxorium levamentum? At quasdam in ambitionem aut avaritiam prolapsas. Quid? ipsorum magistratuum nonne plerosque variis libidinibus obnoxios? Non tamen ideo neminem in provinciam mitti. […] Frustra nostram ignaviam alia ad vocabula transferri:  nam viri in eo culpam si femina modum excedat. Porro ob unius aut alterius imbecillum animum male eripi maritis consortia rerum secundarum adversarumque. Simul sexum natura invalidum deseri et exponi suo luxu, cupidinibus alienis. Vix praesenti custodia manere inlaesa coniugia: quid fore si per pluris annos in modum discidii oblitterentur? […] Addidit pauca Drusus de matrimonio suo; […] se quoque in Illyricum profectum et, si ita conducat, alias ad gentis iturum, haud semper aequo animo si ab uxore carissima et tot communium liberorum parente divelleretur. 27 The word con-​sortium means literally: “company in fate”. 28 Cf. Pomeroy (1999), and in particular the contributions of Lisette Goessler, 97–​ 115, and Jo Ann McNamara, 151–​61. 29 Joshel (1997), 223.

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Claudius and his wives 177 30 Eck (2002), 118. 31 Juv. 6.113-​132 (ed. and transl. by Susanna Morton Braund. Loeb Classical Library 91. Cambridge/​MA, 2004). 32 Dio 60.31.1; cf. also Dio 60.18.1–​3. The edition and translation of Dio Cassius, Roman History, are from Earnest Cary, Loeb Classical Library 176, Cambridge, MA (1925). 33 Eck (2002), 119. 34 Francesca Cenerini refers to this marriage as being a “fatto oscuro”, cf. Cenerini (2010), 180. 35 Suet. Claud. 27.1–​2; Dio 60.12.5. 36 Cf. Tac. Ann. 12.42.1 for the praetorian prefects; L.  Vitellius is an extraordinarily adaptive figure in the ancient texts, with good relations to Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero and also to Messalina and Agrippina, cf. Tac. Ann. 6.32.4 for a general (negative) characterisation and 11.2–​4, 11.33, and 11.35 for his relations to Messalina; cf. also Suet. Vit. 2.4–​3.1. 37 Eck (2002), 125. 38 Suet. Claud. 39.2; that Suetonius has Claudius say the word domina in this particular situation is certainly not unintentional. 39 For more precise information, cf. my study Späth (2000). 40 Tac. Ann. 12.3.1. 41 Tac. Ann. 12.5.1. 42 Ginsburg (200), 132 (the conclusion was added by Beth Severy-​Hoven). 43 I am very grateful to Jeannette Kraese for her attentive translation of my French prose, and to Leigh Westerfield for the careful reading and editing of the text.

Bibliography Barrett A. A. (1996) Agrippina. Mother of Nero. London:  Batsford [title of the American edition: Agrippina. Sex, Power and Politics in the Early Empire, London/​ New York: Routledge]. Barrett A. A. (2001) “Tacitus, Livia, and the Evil Stepmother”. RhM 144, 171–​5. Bettini M. (1988) “Il divieto fino al ‘sesto grado’ incluso nel matrimonio romano”. Athenaeum 66, 69–​98. Burckhardt A. L. (1990) “The Political Elite of the Roman Republic: Comments on Recent Discussion of the Concepts nobilitas and homo novus”. Historia 39, 77–​99. Cenerini F. (2010) “Messalina e il suo matrimonio con C.  Silio”. In Kolb A. (ed.) Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herrschaftsstrukturen und Herrschaftspraxis II: Akten der Tagung in Zürich, 18.-​20.9.2008. Berlin: Akademie Verlag (SEBarc 8), 179–​91. Corbier M. (1995) “Male Power and Legitimacy through Women:  the domus Augusta under the Julio-​Claudians”. In Hawley R. and Levick B. (eds) Women in Antiquity: New Assessments. London/​New York: Routledge, 178–​93. Eck W. (2002) “Die iulisch-​claudische Familie: Frauen neben Caligula, Claudius und Nero”. In Temporini-​Gräfin Vitzthum H. (ed.) Die Kaiserinnen Roms von Livia bis Theodora. München: Beck, 103–​63. Gardner J. (1997) “Legal Stumbling-​ Blocks for Lower-​ Class Families in Rome”. In Rawson B. and Weaver P. (eds) The Roman Family in Italy. Status, Sentiment, Space, Oxford/​New York: Oxford University Press, 35–​53.

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178  Thomas Späth Gelzer M. (1983) [1912] Die Nobilität der römischen Republik, Stuttgart: Teubner [first publication Leipzig/​Berlin: Teubner 1912]. Ginsburg J. (2006) Representing Agrippina. Constructions of Female Power in the Early Roman Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gray-​Fow M. J. G. (1988) “The Wicked Stepmother in Roman Literature and History. An Evaluation”. Latomus 157, 741–​57. Hurley D. W. (2008) “Claudius”. In Barrett A. A. (ed.) Lives of the Caesars. Oxford/​ Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 84–​106. Joshel S. R. (1997) “Female Desire and the Discourse of Empire: Tacitus’s Messalina”. In Hallett J. P. and Skinner M. B. (eds) Roman Sexualities. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 221–​54. Levick B. (1990) Claudius. London: Batsford. Mehl A. (1974) Tacitus über Kaiser Claudius: Die Ereignisse am Hof. Munich: Fink. Pomeroy S. B. (ed.) (1999) Plutarch’s Advice to the Bride and Groom, and A Consolation to His Wife. Oxford/​New York: Oxford University Press. Ronning Ch. (2011) “Zwischen ratio und Wahn. Caligula, Claudius und Nero in der altertumswissenschaftlichen Forschung”. In Winterling A. (ed.) Zwischen Strukturgeschichte und Biographie. Probleme und Perspektiven einer neuen Römischen Kaisergeschichte, 31 v.Chr.–​192 n.Chr. München: Beck, 253–​76. Saller R. P. (1989) “Patronage and Friendship in Early Imperial Rome: Drawing the Distinction”. In  Wallace-​Hadrill A. (ed.) Patronage in Ancient Society, London/​ New York: Routledge,  49–​62. Sánchez P. (2016a) “Latini, id est foederati: le statut juridique des colonies latines sous la République”. Athenaeum 104, 50–​82. Sánchez P. (2016b) “Quand Rome se cherchait de nouveaux alliés:  les accords de coopération militaire négociés à l”initiative des Romains sur le théâtre des opérations (IVe-​IIIe s. av. n.è.)”. Ktèma 41, 165–​90. Santoro L’hoir F. (2006) Tragedy, Rhetoric, and the Historiography of Tacitus” Annales. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Späth Th. (2000) “Agrippina minor: Frauenbild als Diskurskonzept”. In Kunst Ch. and Riemer U. (eds) Grenzen der Macht. Zur Rolle der römischen Kaiserfrauen. Stuttgart: Steiner, 115–​33. Späth Thomas (2012) “Masculinity and Gender Performance in Tacitus”. In Pagán V. A. (ed.) A Companion to Tacitus, Oxford/​Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 431–​57. Syme R. (1958) Tacitus. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Veyne P. (1978) “La famille et l’amour sous le Haut-​Empire romain”. Annales ESC 33, 35–​63 [reprinted in: Veyne P. (1991) La sociétéromaine, Paris: Seuil, 88–​130]. Veyne P. (1985) “L’empire romain”. In Ariès Ph. and Duby G. (eds), Histoire de la vie privée. Vol. 1. Paris: Seuil, 18–​224. Watson P. A. (1994) Ancient Stepmothers. Myth, Misogyny and Reality. Leiden/​ New York: Brill. Wood S. E. (1992) “Messalina, Wife of Claudius: Propaganda, Successes, and Failures of his Reign”. JRA 5, 219–​34.

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10  Power couples in antiquity An initial survey Anne Bielman Sánchez

The first question we asked ourselves at the outset of this survey was whether the concepts of “power couple” or “political power couple” had been formalised as such in antiquity. The various studies gathered above provide a nuanced answer to this question. Indeed, while it is clear that no specific term or expression in Greek or Latin matches the concept of “power couple”,1 the cases examined show the desire of several ancient leaders to put the couple at the heart of their political strategies and propaganda: from the end of the third century BC E at the latest, the couple was viewed as a useful instrument for the reinforcement of supreme power, whether dynastic or personal. On the other hand, the methods used to exploit and enhance these couples of leaders varied according to the circumstances and the ancient societies concerned. Despite the diversity of contexts, it is possible to highlight a number of characteristics common to ancient power couples. This is the focus of this chapter. However, since the analysis of ancient couples is still in its initial stages, we cannot present here a real synthesis of the question. We thus limit ourselves to reflections drawn from the studies gathered in this book, without aiming at an exhaustive analysis of all ancient power couples.

Greek and Roman sources on power couples Let us start with a few words about the sources of information we have on ancient power couples. The nature of the sources and their date of production certainly affect the information transmitted as well as its reliability. Inscriptions, papyri, and coins are contemporary documents of each couple of leaders. When they emanate from the source of power itself, they reflect the image that the spouses wished to give of themselves, the official facade of the couple and dynastic propaganda. They provide a reliable overview of the official hierarchical relationship between the partners, as is the case with the Seleucid coins of Cleopatra Thea and Alexander Balas (D’Agostini, Figure 2). They can also illustrate, through dedications or marks of veneration, the way in which the ruling duo was perceived by the population. All this is part of a staging of the power couple –​a careful scenography, skilfully elaborated and undoubtedly quite far from the couple’s daily life. It is obvious, for example,

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180  Anne Bielman Sánchez that the Egyptian theologians who elaborated the iconographic programme of the temples during the Ptolemaic period were not interested in the marital crises between the rulers they represented, at least as long as these tensions did not break apart the couple and lead to the death of one of the partners, which would have had a direct influence on the content of the temple bas-​reliefs. The ancient authors whose works have been preserved today often lived long after the power couples they described, but they frequently had first-​ hand information that has subsequently been lost. They therefore inform us about the political or military actions of the leaders but also transmit several anecdotes (more or less true) about the private life of some power couples which humanise these leading figures. However, the approach of the ancient writers is subjective and strongly tinged with ideology; this is particularly the case with regards to the gendered distribution of roles in marital unions, to women’s behaviour, and to their participation in public life alongside their husbands. Reporting marital incidents or talking about a leader’s submission to one of his mistresses allowed the classical authors to report deviant behaviour compared to prevailing gender norms. The accounts of a literary author therefore often say more about the conception of couples at the time of the author than about the power couple that the author is dealing with. Plutarch illustrates this very well with his portrait of Octavia: as an image of the ideal Roman wife, she lives at home, receives the supporters of Mark Antony, raises the many children of her husband and his previous wives, and tries to ease the tensions between her brother and her husband (Harders). Similarly, Justin ascribes to Philip II the marital behaviour of a Roman emperor:  far from practicing polygamy, the Macedonian ruler divorced Olympias, who was accused of adultery, before marrying the young Cleopatra (Carney). These processes of literary construction serve as much to idealise certain figures as to demonise others, such as the two wives of the emperor Claudius –​Messalina then Agrippina (Späth) –​or Olympias, whose aggressive and difficult character (according to Plutarch) or adulterous behaviour (according to Justin) are responsible for the break-​up of the couple she formed with Philip II. By contrast, in the Greek version of the Alexander Romance, it is Philip II’s misbehaviour which is blamed for the marital failure (Carney). A common literary bias among ancient writers was to emphasise the sentimental dimension of a couple’s relationship or some of its emotional aspects, while leaving the political issues of these conjugal unions in the shadows. Plutarch is particularly inclined to envisage love marriages, for example between Philip II and Olympias or between Philip II and his last wife, Cleopatra (Carney), or to dramatise the love affair between Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII (Ferriès). He is also interested in matrimonial quarrels, for example between Philip II and Olympias (Carney), while other authors, such as Justin, focus on the marital crises of the Hellenistic rulers (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton). By multiplying perspectives on the couples through a comparison between documentary sources and literary sources, it is possible to identify these

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Power couples in antiquity 181 patterns of narrative construction and thus to question the validity of certain information provided by the literary texts: Claudius’s or Mark Antony’s weakness in front of female figures (Ferriès and Späth respectively) are good examples. One who considers ancient power couples needs to be aware of a triple overlapping of images: the image forged by the couple itself to shape public opinion, the reception of this image by the contemporaries of the couple –​ either in official documents (decrees of cities, acts of the Roman Senate) or in more personal testimonies (private dedications to a power couple, for example)  –​and finally the successive reinterpretations of this image by later ancient writers. In addition to the initial propaganda, which enables the leading couple to promote an idealised vision of itself, were added over time literary biases, filters, and stereotypes, which were linked to constantly evolving cultural and social values. The role of the Ptolemaic queens Arsinoe III and Cleopatra VII within their respective relationships is a good example:  contemporary documents (inscriptions or temple bas-​reliefs) show Arsinoe III as a queen involved in the management of the kingdom’s affairs alongside her brother-​husband, and Cleopatra VII as a skilful sovereign, capable of ensuring her kingdom great political stability in a world undergoing huge change. For their part, the Latin authors make Arsinoe III the unfortunate victim of the sexual outbursts of King Ptolemy IV (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton) and Cleopatra VII a “femme fatale”, a dangerous seductress corrupting the best Roman generals (Ferriès). The experiences of ancient power couples are particularly difficult to trace because the first-​hand documents (inscriptions, papyri, coins) say almost nothing on this subject or attest to it only indirectly: for example, it is by the official mention of the children of a power couple that one can know that partners maintained sexual relations and deduce for how many years these relations spanned.2 But the daily exchanges within the couple, their emotional relationships, the sharing of living spaces, the interactions between the couple and their children, all this escapes us or is attested in literary texts whose reliability is often questionable. Finally, in the search for ancient power couples it is important to remember the biases introduced by modern scholars in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries: the monogamous Christian conception of marriage has influenced the way specialists analyse questions concerning the polygamy of kings or the repudiation of their wives; the lack of interest in the role of women as actors in history, as well as in the emotional aspects of human relations, has for a long time distorted the view of relations between the partners of ruling couples; the belief that ancient sources had no literary bias  –​a belief that prevailed until around the middle of the twentieth century  –​led scholars to uncritically accept classical authors” statements concerning Greek and Roman couples and their mode of functioning. And if ancient power couples now seem to be a worthy subject of interest, it is because they are in tune with contemporary concerns: sensitivity to gender relations, the questioning

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182  Anne Bielman Sánchez of traditional relations of domination, the desire to detect in ancient sources emotions, taboos, unspoken words, and silences.

The public face of Greco-​Roman power couples How and why did certain ancient couples become power couples? Antiquity knew dozens of leaders. The majority were married,3 mostly to women from wealthy and influential families, with whom they conceived children. However, only some of these leaders can be defined as part of a power couple. This means that the union of two people from rich and prestigious families did not automatically give rise to a power couple. It must therefore be admitted that the formation of such a couple was the result of a voluntary process aimed at transforming the conjugal union into a power couple recognised as such. In the absence of explicit sources on this subject, it can be assumed that the male partner of the couple was frequently the driving force behind such a transformation, insofar as he was the person  –​as the holder of political authority  –​who was supposed to benefit the most from the creation of a power couple. However, to make a couple, two people are required: without some form of consent from the female partner4 –​without her active participation in the project and also in its implementation (including through official and public activities) –​the transformation of the couple into an official duo would not have been successful. Moreover, in Hellenistic society from at least the third century BCE , and in Roman society from the end of the first century B C E , it was accepted that a woman could ennoble her husband through her own prestigious lineage, like in the case of Cornelia and her husband L. Aemilius Lepidus Paullus (Hallett). The couple then became a “social marker” for men in the upper classes of the Greek and Roman societies; that “social marker” came in second place just after the political career and had the same importance as the family wealth. Cicero in a letter to Mr. Licinius Crassus evokes –​in this order –​the flourishing situation of his correspondent, then his wife who prevailed over all the other women (praestantissima omnium feminarum, uxor tua), and finally his children.5 Moreover, the female partner could also find political advantages in the creation of a power couple:  we may think of Cleopatra Thea (D’Agostini) or Cleopatra VII, for example. Nothing prevents us to think that, in certain cases, the female partner of the duo suggested the enhancement of the couple and its transformation into a power couple:  Arsinoe III, older than her brother Ptolemy IV and perhaps more aware of the political problems of the Ptolemaic kingdom, could have conceived such a strategy, since it helped reinforce the dynasty and her own position at the court (Bielman Sánchez/ Joliton). In this respect, J.  Hallett gives a very relevant definition of “power couple”:  “two ambitious persons with common intentions and projects in

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Power couples in antiquity 183 political areas” (Hallett). The construction of a leading duo thus presupposed an agreement between the partners on common objectives, aims, and projects. All this implies that both the man and the woman of a given couple had a certain political sense, and that this political sense was accepted and recognised by the other partner. The role of the entourage in the creation of a power couple should not be underestimated:  the presence of experienced courtiers and  –​in the case of young leadership couples  –​the advice of parents could have been decisive. M. D’Agostini highlights the role of certain courtiers in the conclusion of the union between Cleopatra Thea and Antiochus VII (D’Agostini). Octavian’s role in the staging of the couple formed by his sister Octavia and Mark Antony is well known: this role is reflected in the coin representing the trio formed by Mark Antony, Octavia, and Octavian, and is underlined by the physical similarity between Octavia and Octavian (Harders). And in the accounts given by Roman sources on the emperor Claudius” choice of his wife, we note the influence of the Prince’s Council (Späth), in this case unusually constituted by freedmen, whereas in Rome, it was normally up to the matrons to choose a good wife for their son. Finally, the responsibility for the initiative of creating a power couple was perhaps sometimes shared between the partners of the ruling couple and the public/​their subjects:  when the Teians present the actions of Antiochus III and his wife Laodice through verbal forms in the third person plural (Widmer, n.  15), do they reflect official propaganda that already used the plural and aimed to promote the royal spouses as a couple? Or do they send a message to the rulers to encourage them to assert themselves now as a political duo? In any case, it is clear that the ruling couple based its legitimacy and power in part on the positive reception of the message by the inhabitants of the territory under its authority. Another observation emerges from the contributions presented in this book:  the creation of an ancient power couple was politically motivated. Inspired by some remarks about Mark Antony and Cleopatra (Ferriès), one could say that an ancient power couple was a political organisation in the form of a duo. This definition applies particularly to Hellenistic royal couples since, at the time the partners were matched, one of them –​usually the man –​ was already at the head of a kingdom or could hope for a royal destiny. From then on, conjugal unions were arranged in ways that took into account this political dimension, whether it was a union concluded within the dynasty (endogamic marriage) or a union with someone from a neighbouring dynasty (exogamic marriage). Also in Rome, the choice of the emperor’s wife sometimes inspired strategic reflections (Späth). When conceived from this political perspective, matrimonial unions between leaders have generally been transformed into power couples.6 Indeed, the promotion of the ruling couple via various media could give the rulers a more positive image and, consequently, make their power stronger. The Seleucid king Antiochus III developed an official rhetoric that

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184  Anne Bielman Sánchez underlined the “mutual affection” (philostorgia) between him and his wife Laodice in order to assure that the Seleucid power would not be destroyed by familial quarrels (Widmer). The kind relations within the ruling couple were sometimes presented as an echo of the relations between the ruler and his people: the marital concordia between Livia and Augustus was supposed to be a model for the civic concordia (Cenerini). According to Tacitus, the consul Aulus Caecina Severus underlined his concordia with his wife and stated that he wished the same rules at home and for the res publica (Späth). The stability of the couple was therefore intended to guarantee the stability of the political system. In this political construction in duo, the “power” of men (resulting from their paternal and maternal ancestry, their social position, their financial means, their political responsibilities as well as sometimes their military skills) and the “power” of women (resulting from their paternal and maternal kinship, their social origin, their wealth, their network of influence, even the number of their children) combined and were reinforced by the individual charisma of the partners. The place of the latter element in the notoriety of certain power couples is very difficult to measure on the basis of surviving documentation, but it certainly should not be neglected. Enhancing a power couple in antiquity: practices and strategies The process of making an ancient power couple required the use of media strategies that sometimes were common to the Greek world and to the Roman Republican or Imperial periods, and that other times were specific to each of these societies. There were certain key steps in the political instrumentalisation of the couple by particular leaders between the fourth century B C E and the first century C E . As far as the Greek world is concerned, the rise of the royal regimes under the impetus of Macedonia in the second half of the fourth century B C E did not have an immediate impact on the media coverage of the couple formed by the king and his wife. In fact, according to E.  Carney, the royal couple obtained no official recognition in the Argead monarchy of the fifth century and the first half of the fourth century BCE , even though some queens –​such as Eurydice, the mother of Philip II –​began to be recognised as public figures (Carney). The couple Philip II and Olympias can be seen as a precursor to later power couples:  in particular, we can detect in this duo the seed of the desire to pursue common political objectives, such as the legitimation of their heir. However, it is the duo of Philip III Arrhidaeus and his wife Adea Eurydice that E. Carney considers as the first exceptional Hellenistic couple (Carney). The attribution of the royal title to the wives of the diadochs from the end of the fourth century BCE could have favoured the media coverage of the ruling couples, but this opportunity was hardly exploited, with the exception of Philip Arrhidaeus and Adea Eurydice, and then also Demetrius I Poliorcetes

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Power couples in antiquity 185 and Phila I. Ptolemy II was the first Hellenistic king to consider the couple as a pillar of the royal propaganda; however, the most notable elements of his approach came after the death of his sister-​wife Arsinoe II (around 270 B C E or shortly afterwards).7 For his part, as early as 246 B C E , Ptolemy III honoured his wife and the relationship they fostered during their lifetime: the granting of the title of “Pharaoh” (in a feminine form) to Berenice placed the queen on an equal footing with her male partner, “Pharaoh”, and went hand in hand with the establishment of a dynastic cult for both spouses (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton).8 Around 200 BC E at the latest, and probably under the influence of mutual emulation, both the Seleucids and the Lagids conceived the royal couple as an instrument of strengthening royal power: that is, as a means of giving the sovereigns more visibility and a more solid foundation. In the Hellenistic world, from the third century B C E onwards, the formalisation of the royal couple and its official recognition were facilitated by several media procedures, employed either alone or jointly, in addition to the recurrent granting of the title of queen (basilissa) to royal wives: (a) The artificial creation of bonds of brotherhood between royal spouses. Among the Lagids, perhaps under the influence of the consanguineous couple Ptolemy II-​Arsinoe II, the title of “sister (of the king)” had been conferred on Berenice II, the cousin and wife of Ptolemy III.9 It is not, however, an innovation of this sovereign:  the use of family terms to describe one of the royal partners was already widespread in pharaonic Egypt. We have no clear evidence among the Seleucids that the title “king’s sister” was used before the very beginning of the second century BC E , perhaps under the influence of the Lagids; in a letter dated 193 B C E and prescribing honours for his wife, Antiochos III describes his wife Laodice (who was actually his cousin) in this way (Widmer, n.  30 and 31). Whatever the origin and age of this usage, its symbolic significance is strong: the relationship uniting the members of the couple was made immutable and definitive, equal to a blood relationship. This symbolic significance was especially valuable in royal dynasties which practiced polygamy, and so needed to distinguish the main wife of the king (generally the mother of the heir) and the dominant couple that the latter formed with the sovereign. (b) The valorisation of the public action of the queen-​wife. She is presented as a member of a ruling couple and as a wife acting in concert with her male partner. (c) The use of words belonging to the semantic register of affection when one of the partners mentions the other in a public document. On this score, M.  Widmer notes similarities between Aristotelian reflections on philia (“affection”) in couple relationships and Seleucid epigraphic documents dating from the reign of Antiochus III and underlining the philostorgia (“mutual affection”) between the king and his wife (Widmer).

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186  Anne Bielman Sánchez (d) The use of verbal forms in the first or third person plural in Greek documents mentioning royal benefits, as well as the use of plural or dual terms to designate sovereigns in Egyptian language documents. However, the fact that leaders spoke and presented themselves as a couple did not prevent the expression of individual voices –​that of the king or the queen –​either of whom could speak in their own name or on behalf of the couple. (e) The joint representation of sovereigns on different media, such as the upper register of an Egyptian stele, statues side by side in temples, or jugate monetary portraits (D’Agostini). (f) The elaboration of storytelling, textual or iconographical, aimed at giving the couple a status close to that of the divinity. We think here in particular of the presence of the serpent in the conjugal bed of Olympias and Philip II (Carney), the divine epithets of Cleopatra Eueteria Thea (D’Agostini), the dressing up of Mark Antony and Cleopatra like Dionysus and Ariadne or like Dionysus and Isis/​Aphrodite (Ferriès), or the wedding banquet of Octavian and Livia for which the new husband dressed as Apollo (Cenerini). One can put in relation with this the theatricalised scenography of the official meetings between Mark Antony and Cleopatra (Ferriès). From the end of the fourth century BC E to the beginning of the second, it took the Hellenistic dynasties more than a century to conceive the couple as a political instrument worthy of interest. And if the phenomenon of the power couple emerged among the Lagids and the Seleucids in parallel, the modes in which the couples developed are not strictly identical in the two dynasties. These different modes show that the cultural uses were different in both societies: thus, the Lagids –​who regularly used the walls of temples and the upper register of steles for political messages under an iconographic shape –​largely exploited the joint representation for power couples (see point (e) above). In contrast, the Seleucids rarely used joint representation and when they did, it was generally under the influence of queens of Ptolemaic origin married to Seleucid kings (D’Agostini). Conversely, in the Greek cities of the Seleucid kingdom which are used to engrave monumental inscriptions, the textual rhetoric of the couple was developed to a greater extent. Moreover, while the Ptolemaic rulers of the first century BCE , in particular Cleopatra VII, excelled in the art of staging power couples, several of the last Seleucid rulers did not take advantage of this propaganda tool:  this is true for Demetrius II, who alienated his wife Cleopatra Thea from public life, and it is also true of his successors from Antiochus VIII Grypus. Thus, the way of highlighting a power couple reflected some social and cultural patterns. Finally, power couples among the Antigonids experienced a reverse evolution to that of the Ptolemaic and Seleucid couples. Philip II and Olympias, and especially Philip Arrhidaeus and Adea Eurydice, can be considered precursors of this phenomenon. At least one Antigonid duo was inspired by

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Power couples in antiquity 187 their example: Demetrius I Poliorcetes and Phila I (Carney).10 The latter was the daughter of Antipater, the man who had ruled Macedonia in the absence of Alexander the Great, and the sister of one of the diadochs, Cassander. She married Demetrius in 321 BCE ; the latter took the royal title (basileus) in 306 B C E, and Phila received the title of queen (basilissa) shortly thereafter. Although Demetrius I married several women in parallel to this union, Phila was “the first of all in consideration and dignity”, according to Plutarch.11 Endowed with an unusual intelligence and a great political sense, in Diodorus’ estimation, Phila was sent as an ambassador to his brother Cassander (in 299) to negotiate an agreement in favour of Demetrius.12 The granting of the royal title to Phila testifies that Demetrius exploited the family’s origin and the fame of his wife to legitimise his own power. Even if it is not impossible that Philip Arrhidaeus and Adea Eurydice preceded Demetrius and Phila in taking the royal title as a couple (Carney), Demetrius and Phila can be considered a true political couple. However, Demetrius’ successors gradually moved away from this model, as the Lagids and the Seleucids made the couple one of the pillars of royal propaganda. The causes of this Antigonid specificity would deserve further investigation. Were the processes developed among the Lagids and the Seleucids to emphasise the ruling couples the same in the Roman Republican or Imperial world? Not exactly, because Roman society had cultural customs different from those of the Greek world. Moreover, while there was a dynamic of emulation and reciprocal borrowing between the Hellenistic kingdoms concerning the power couples (titles granted to the queens –​notably that of “the king’s sister” –​or public staging of ruling couples), Rome remained focused on itself from a sociocultural point of view. In the Roman world, the rise of prominent couples began at the end of the Republican period, in the second half of the first century BC E . And the concept of the power couple was developed and formalised only from 27 BCE , under the influence of the emperor Augustus and his successors. The case of Mark Antony is particularly ripe for analysis, and it is not a coincidence that we have devoted two studies to him (Ferriès and Harders). Indeed, during his lifetime the triumvir was a partner in three power couples, one of which functioned in the Hellenistic way (with Cleopatra) and two in the Roman way (with Fulvia, then with Octavia). The couples formed in parallel by Mark Antony and Cleopatra on one side, and Mark Antony and Octavia on the other allow us to date the switch from Greek conceptions of power couples to the Roman one to the years 40–​30 B C E .

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​ ith Cleopatra, Mark Antony established a political alliance through W the creation of a couple. This alliance was possible because it was based both on the ancient conception of leaders’ interpersonal relations as the basis of diplomacy, and on the Ptolemaic conception that a leader could be a woman. Mark Antony, despite his Roman origin, fully accepted this Ptolemaic definition of power and took full advantage of it. He was

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not the first Roman to take note of the official place given to the wife in Ptolemaic royal couples: at the end of the third century B C E , the Roman Senate had sent gifts to Ptolemy IV and his sister-​wife Arsinoe III; however, the purple gown and ivory seat were intended for the king only; they were marks of power and a sign that the Senate considered him –​and him alone –​as the holder of authority and power (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton). By making Cleopatra both his sexual partner and his political interlocutor, Mark Antony went much further in his understanding of the Hellenistic royal systems. ​Through his marriage with Octavia, Mark Antony also established a political alliance with his brother-​in-​law, Octavian. Octavia, in keeping with the role of women in Roman conjugal unions, favoured rapprochement between male individuals belonging to two family clans. The coin that puts her on stage alongside her husband and brother perfectly illustrates this function of the Roman woman in the Republican power couple (Harders).

From the end of the Republic, the system favoured by the Romans for highlighting ruling couples was the granting of legal privileges to the wives of the most prominent politicians. Thus, in 35 B C E , Livia –​Octavian’s wife –​ and Octavia –​Mark Antony’s wife and Octavian’s sister –​obtained by plebiscite the privileges of inviolability (sacrosanctitas) and liberation from legal guardianship imposed on women (Harders and Cenerini). Livia received other legal privileges during her husband’s reign. Then upon Augustus’ death she obtained the title of Augusta. Unlike the Hellenistic dynasties, which valued royal couples (including the female partners of these couples) essentially through texts or images presented in the public space, Rome used private law to honour women belonging to power couples. However, this privileged path was not exclusive, and the Romans (since Octavian/​Augustus) also highlighted the wives of their rulers: Livia and Octavia received the right to be honoured by statues bearing their effigy, and Octavia appeared on coins alongside Mark Antony and Octavian (Harders and Cenerini). The differences in the procedures for highlighting Greek and Roman couples essentially derive from the political regimes in which these couples lived. In the Ptolemaic and Seleucid kingdoms, rulers were trained from an early age to distinguish themselves from their subjects; they lived in sumptuous palaces surrounded by courtiers, received honours identical to those of the divinities, and shared the temples of the latter. Their strategies for staging their relationships reflect this unique position. On the other hand, Roman Republican leaders were not predestined to rise above fellow citizens who belonged to the same social elite. Their means of action, their networks, the springs of patronage or friendship were similar to those of the other members of the senatorial class. They had to take care not to appear too different from their fellow citizens, including in the way they presented their couple relationships. Mark Antony was punished for not paying enough attention

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Power couples in antiquity 189 to this:  that is, for having ignored Roman Republican customs in matters pertaining to his relationships. These precautions in the staging of couples concerned the triumvirs of the end of the Republic, Augustus and the first successors of Augustus. In his study, T.  Späth emphasises how much the emperor, at the time of the Julio-​Claudians, should not live or present himself in an exceptional way but should, on the contrary, preserve an ordinary appearance, maintain a facade of normality, including in his conjugal relations (Späth). In Rome at the end of the Republic and at the beginning of the Empire, efforts were made not to stage the lives of leaders or their relationships in spectacular ways, contrary to what was sought in the Hellenistic courts. T. Späth’s study shows that Roman mentalities evolved very slowly during the first and second centuries C E . It was only from the Severi, at the beginning of the third century C E , that a new conception of the imperial regime developed that was reminiscent in certain ways of the ancient Hellenistic courts. A comparison between these political regimes in terms of the place reserved for power couples would undoubtedly be instructive, but it is beyond the chronological scope of our survey. Augustus, however, approached the Hellenistic rulers through a particular process: the doubling of the conjugal bond by an artificial biological kinship bond (cf. supra process (a) identified for the Hellenistic power couples). Indeed, Augustus adopted his wife Livia through his last will and testament. She then became his daughter and took both the gentilice of Augustus, Iulius-​Iulia, and also his cognomen, Augustus-​Augusta. With regard to Hellenistic precedents, the circumstances differ, since the artificial biological link was established only after the death of the husband. The legal ins and outs of this act are debated by scholars: F. Cenerini considers it a political act and an essential stage for the establishment of the imperial house and of the dynastic cult (Cenerini n. 56–​ 66). Symbolically, the impact of this legal manoeuvre was similar to what had happened to Hellenistic couples:  it made the relationship between the two former conjugal partners immutable and definitive –​even beyond death. This measure was perhaps stronger since divorces and remarriages were permissible and frequent among the Roman social elites. This posthumous adoption between spouses, which marked a desire to emphasise the role of the couple in the new imperial regime, was a unique case that was not imitated by Augustus’ successors. However, as F.  Cenerini points out, it had such an impact that, from the time of Claudius and Nero, the emperors’ wives took the title of Augusta at the moment of their marriage (Cenerini). Did the Augustus-​Livia couple use divine elements to magnify their relationship, following the example of certain Hellenistic couples (see above process no.  6 identified for Hellenistic power couples)? Yes, but only after Augustus’ death and divinisation:  Livia’s appointment to the priesthood (flaminica) of the cult of her late husband (and foster father) appears as a form of commemoration of the exceptional couple that she made with Augustus. This impression of a couple bound beyond death is reinforced by the fact that Livia was the only one to perform the cult in memory of her husband,

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190  Anne Bielman Sánchez whereas in the traditional Roman religion, the flaminica was always accompanied by a male colleague (flamen). The posthumous divinisation of Livia in 42 C E , on the anniversary of her marriage to Augustus, once again reminds us just how fundamental this matrimonial bond was for the stabilisation of the imperial regime. Beyond the different processes that were used to highlight the couple, one common point is consistent: the control of various codes of communication by the leaders, and their capacity to inform public opinion so that the two partners were thought to act in concert, and were therefore affirmed as a power couple. Marriage, repudiation, divorce, and power couples The staging strategies of the ancient ruling couples, as well as the relationships between the partners, depended very much on cultural customs and legal norms regarding marriage. The Hellenistic dynasties, following the Macedonian dynasty of the Argeads, practiced polygamy, more precisely polygyny. We understand these terms to mean that the male partner had several wives at the same time and not several successive wives.13 Polygamy was a privilege of kings. Ordinary citizens, including among the elite of Greek cities, were monogamous in the sense that each man could enter into only one legitimate union at a time, a union likely to produce future citizens.14 This means that only power couples were confronted with the positive and negative effects of polygyny in Hellenistic times. The polygamous system assured the Hellenistic kings sufficient production of heirs, but it also created rivalries between royal children born from different mothers15 and certainly also rivalries between the wives themselves. The creation of a power couple made it possible to limit these rivalries –​at least during the king’s lifetime –​through the special highlighting of one of the royal wives. Within the power couple formed by Antiochus III and his first wife, Laodice, this privileged bond was expressed through granting the title “sister (of the king)” to Laodice and also by the official use of terms within the semantic register of affection (Widmer). Nothing like this is attested for Antiochus III’s second wife, Euboia (Widmer). In principle, each Hellenistic king distinguished only one of his wives during his reign as forming with him the official royal couple, from whom his heirs came and around whom the dynastic propaganda was built.16 The processes of development of the Hellenistic power couples illustrate thus the capacity of innovation of these dynasties. The polygamy of kings had many political advantages owing to the various origins of the royal wives: exogamous marriages between neighbouring dynasties made it possible to strengthen political alliances, while endogamous marriages (notably with one or more of the king’s sisters) strengthened the dynasty by giving double legitimacy to the children of these consanguineous

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Power couples in antiquity 191 unions and limiting the birth of nephews who could have been rivals to the king’s sons in adulthood. However, the right of Hellenistic kings to take several wives did not mean that all unions gained the same degree of legitimacy. Thus Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII were not considered the ruling couple in Egypt (“Pharaoh” and “Pharaoh” in the feminine form) –​even though they publicly characterised their relationship as a hierogamy (“divine marriage”) between Osiris/​ Dionysus and Isis/​Aphrodite, and even though their union ensured that their children were officially recognised. As only the blood of the ancestral line could confer legitimacy on the Pharaoh,17 it was Cleopatra VII and her son Caesarion –​connected by his mother to the Ptolemaic dynasty –​who held legitimate power in the eyes of their Egyptian subjects. Moreover, in general, it can be assumed that a king’s legitimising capacity in favour of his partner was greater than that of a queen in favour of her partner, even if the queen bore the title of “Pharaoh” or “Queen of the Kings”.18 By creating two parallel power couples, one in the East with Cleopatra VII and the other in Italy with Octavia, Mark Antony fully exploited the political advantages of the Hellenistic polygamic system, but deviated from Roman customs in two ways:  on the one hand, monogamy constituted an essential part of the Roman matrimonial system;19 on the other hand, the Roman rulers refused any exogamic union –​that is with non-​Roman women –​ because the rules of the political game imposed marriages between Roman aristocratic families.20 Mark Antony’s union with Cleopatra therefore could not be recognised as a matrimonium iustum (“legal marriage”) under Roman law. By conferring the privilege of sacrosanctitas (“inviolability”) on Octavia in 35 BC E , Octavian wanted to emphasise that in the eyes of the Romans, Octavia was THE only legal wife of Mark Antony. If traditional Republican ideology defended the univariate system (that is, the fact that a woman had only one husband during her lifetime), this ideology was little followed by the Roman aristocracy, which preferred “serial monogamy”. In this system of successive unions, each new marriage was concluded after the breakdown of the previous matrimonial contract, either following the death of one of the spouses or following a divorce. Serial Roman monogamy generated fewer rivalries between matrilineal lines than Hellenistic polygamy, while allowing the regular renewal of political alliances within the Roman ruling class through marriage. The law of Augustus enacted in 18 BCE (Lex Iulia de maritandis ordinibus) re-​evaluates the institution of marriage by granting privileges to married persons and prohibiting misalliances in the senatorial class. This law was supplemented a few years later by benefits granted to the wives of citizens who had had more than three children (ius trium liberorum). Augustus’ provisions thus encouraged marriages and remarriages, especially within the Roman ruling class, and promoted the system of serial monogamy. Augustus himself had twice divorced before marrying Livia (Hallet and Cenerini). Serial monogamy allowed a man or a woman to be a partner of several successive political power couples during his/​her life –​such as in the case of

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192  Anne Bielman Sánchez the emperor Claudius examined above (Späth), but the emperors Tiberius and Nero also practiced serial monogamy –​whereas the Hellenistic polygamous kings generally highlighted only one power couple during their reign. On the other hand, some Hellenistic queens participated in several successive power couples following the disappearance of their previous spouse(s): an emblematic case is that of Cleopatra II.21 Modern scholars debate the evidence of the repudiation of previous wives when Hellenistic kings were entering into new unions; the most recent works conclude that there is practically no attestation of repudiation of a Hellenistic queen –​in the sense of a dissolution of the matrimonial union –​ and, on the contrary, we have evidence of non-​repudiation.22 On the other hand, some queens may have been removed from the residence of the king and his new wife, but without necessarily entailing a loss of power and prestige for the previous wife.23 The non-​repudiation of a wife made it possible to maintain the alliances and the political advantages resulting from this union. Similarly, Mark Antony tried to reconcile his alliances both in the Eastern Mediterranean and in Rome by maintaining his two parallel unions with Cleopatra and Octavia. He resolved to divorce Octavia only when Octavian had declared war on him:  that is, when he was cornered and had no other choice. In Rome, divorce was required before any new union. Thus, in 39 B C E Octavian had to divorce his first wife, Scribonia, to marry Livia, who herself had just obtained a divorce from her first husband of whom she was expecting a baby (Cenerini). It should be noted, however, that in the event of a divorce, the bonds of friendship between the ex-​ father-​ in-​ law and his ex-​son-​in-​law were not broken; ex-​spouses could also maintain good relations.24 Among the Julio-​Claudian emperors, several divorced:  by order of Augustus, Tiberius separated with regret from his wife Vipsania to marry Julia, Augustus’ daughter; Caligula divorced two of his four wives; Claudius divorced Messalina, and Nero his wife Octavia. Marriage between members of dominant families, and the making of power couples through this practice, appear as major cultural phenomena. Consequently, the customs that governed the creation of power couples and their identification as such differed between the Hellenistic world and the Roman Republican and Imperial world. In the Hellenistic world, intermarriages between members of different royal families were common:  Lagids, Seleucids, and Antigonids used them frequently, as did the kings of Pontus, Cappadocia, or Epirus. However, although exogamous, these unions were concluded between partners who claimed to belong to a common Greco-​Macedonian culture; they therefore could not be considered as “multicultural” unions. In Rome, cultural identity was very restrictive: the Romans refused any legal status to exogamous marriages. The coupling of Mark Antony and Cleopatra, which constituted both an exogamic and a multicultural union, could not hope for legitimacy either in Egypt or in Rome.25

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Power couples in antiquity 193 The official role of the woman in an ancient power couple Since matrimonial systems were based on cultural characteristics, could it be inferred that the role of the female partner varied according to whether she belonged to a Hellenistic or to a Roman power couple? Yes, at least in part. Let us start with the domestic virtues. They seem not to have played an important role in the appreciation of the Hellenistic queens and their role within the couple. Only the Attalids highlighted the maternal tenderness of the queen Apollonis.26 An epigraphic document notes the interest that Laodice, wife of Antiochus III, took in her husband’s household (oikos),27 but whereas the oikos (“house”) of an ordinary Greek citizen extended to his family, house, fields, and slaves, a king’s oikos included the court, the kingdom, and his subjects. Consequently, a division of competences between Laodice and her royal husband seems to have been established, and it was the queen who handled the social programs (famines, dowries of poor girls, marriages and demography, etc.).28 In contrast, in Rome, the appreciation of a power couple’s female partner took domestic qualities into account. Thus Octavia, model of the perfect Roman bride, took care of all of Antony’s children, as well as her own from her previous marriage and those of the previous marriage of Fulvia, the ex-​wife of Mark Antony (Harders). In the portrait which Plutarch makes of her, Octavia becomes a kind of “romantic” heroine: while her husband was in Alexandria with Cleopatra, she stayed in Rome in his home, receiving the husband’s supporters, even though she was about to become his ex-​wife: “she is the one who is loving, who is Roman, who is giving this marriage her all”.29 Because of Octavia’s excessive idealisation in Roman sources, it is difficult to realistically determine her role in the couple she formed with Mark Antony. If we move on to political competences, we see that they are gradually attributed to the kings’ female partners. In the fourth century B C E , the Athenians were not concerned about the content of the letters exchanged between Philip II and Olympias, because they were convinced that these letters could not contain any political information (Carney). Recognised as early as the third century BCE as political partners of the king, queens gradually became an important element of royal duos. This changed the political dimension of ruling couples and the modes of official representation of royal duos and queens. Rome took note of this Hellenistic peculiarity but was hardly inspired by it: Mark Antony tried to take advantage of this through Cleopatra; Fulvia –​ the woman Mark Antony had married before Octavia –​developed a political action comparable to that of a Hellenistic queen, but the behaviour of both (Mark Antony and Fulvia) was exceptional and seen as a transgression of Roman customs (Harders and Hallett). However, a change occurred under the influence of Octavian/​Augustus: from Republican society, where women were expected to stay at home and provide children for their husbands, the Roman upper class moved to a system of

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194  Anne Bielman Sánchez couple enhancement, in which the leader’s wife had a specific role to play, notably in embodying and developing moral values and an ideology: harmony between conjugal partners and harmony between political partners. Octavia embodies this new female role by bringing Antony and Octavian together after the treaty of Brindisium (40 BCE ); Livia symbolises conjugal harmony and harmony between the emperor and the Roman people (Cenerini and Harders). F. Cenerini demonstrates that Livia’s influence on her husband was verified through Augustus’ acts of clemency (Cenerini). In spite of Augustus’ contribution, the traditional/​ideal vision of the Roman couple did not disappear. It is confirmed in the debates that took place in the Senate (21 C E ) concerning magistrates’ wives being forbidden to accompany their husbands on their trips to the provinces (Späth). The Roman woman  –​member of a power couple or not  –​was perceived as a minor in legal terms and frail by nature. But as consortia (“companion”) of an important man, she needed an education that could enable her to participate in the social life of her home, to support and to honour her husband. This ideological conception led the Latin authors to stereotype the Hellenistic queens as the antithesis of the idealised Roman wife: sometimes the role of a queen as political partner of a Hellenistic king is ignored and she is presented as the victim of his depraved husband; sometimes a queen is described as a subversive shrew who escaped the control of her husband or as a dangerous seducer.30 When the same woman was married several times, we see that she did not always have the same role in her different relationships, and that not all these relationships became power couples. The phenomenon is particularly interesting to observe in the Hellenistic dynasties, since both spouses were always from royal lineages and thus benefited from favourable conditions to form a power couple. Excessive domination by the wife’s father or mother seems to have been a factor that could prevent a royal couple from becoming an active and visible power couple. The union of Cleopatra Thea and Alexander Balas is a good example: this young couple, created and controlled by Ptolemy VI, Thea’s father, was never able to free itself from this guardianship. On the coins that present the jugate portrait of Thea and Balas, the queen is in the foreground because she embodied Ptolemy VI’s authority over Coelesyria rather than because she was a part of an autonomous royal couple (D’Agostini, Figure 1). This also applies to Thea’s marriage to Demetrius II, a marriage arranged again by Ptolemy VI. On the contrary, Thea’s third union, contracted after her father’s death, led to the creation of a power couple between the queen and the Seleucid king Antiochus VII (D’Agostini). Mothers could also use their influence to prevent the forming of a power couple. Thus, the Seleucid ruling duo of Cleopatra Thea and her son Antiochus VIII overshadowed the couple formed by the young king and his cousin Cleopatra Tryphaina: it should be noted that Tryphaina’s mother was the authoritarian Ptolemaic queen Cleopatra III and that Cleopatra Thea was her aunt: the young queen was probably not free to act.31

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Power couples in antiquity 195 Ancient power couples: between norms and particularities First, let us clarify what we mean by “norms”. We include under this term both legal norms, defined by a legislative arsenal, and social norms that correspond to the set of customs, usages, and behaviours followed by the majority of the members of a society. Social norms do not depend on a legal framework, since they often concern secondary aspects that were of little interest to legislators. As regards couple relations in the Greco-​Roman world, one could cite as an example the different ways of offering signs of affection to one’s partner, whether in private or in public. The question that should be asked is whether ancient power couples –​or at least some of them –​obeyed contemporary legal and social norms, or were free from any normative constraint, or followed certain norms specific to power couples of a dynasty, an era, or a political system. In the Ptolemaic and Seleucid kingdoms, the rulers automatically placed themselves above their subjects, including the members of the court or the elites of the cities. They received divine honours, behaved more or less as if on an equal footing with the gods, and were even considered gods, especially in Egypt. They were therefore not submitted to the legal or social norms that governed the lives of ordinary couples. Thus, the Hellenistic kings who took several wives simultaneously were able to distinguish themselves from their monogamous subjects. However, they were inspired by their predecessors, the kings of Macedonia. By following a practice that was linked to the royal function, they therefore did not contravene society’s expectations. Moreover, to our knowledge, none of the male members of the royal families was polygamous before acceding to the throne, a sign that polygamy was a royal privilege, one that was accepted and recognised by all. Besides polygamy, royal brothers and sisters of the Ptolemaic and Seleucid dynasties also married each other, and some queens obtained guardianship over their minor sons on the death of their husband.32 The disrespect of common norms on these points was all the more accepted since the Ptolemaic and Seleucid sovereigns could invoke as models the gods or their royal predecessors, that is, the Egyptian pharaohs or the Persian kings.33 The Antigonids, on the other hand, could not refer to the behaviour of their predecessors on these points because the rulers of the Argead dynastic had not developed a court protocol, and had hardly distinguished themselves in their way of life from the companions who made up the general staff of the Macedonian army, except on the question of polygamy. This could perhaps explain the Antigonids’ reluctance to highlight royal couples and to transform them into power couples. In spite of the Antigonid exception, the Hellenistic dynasties offered a much greater potential for innovative adaptation in matters concerning power couples, their official position, and the relations between partners in these couples than was the case in Rome. Indeed, in Republican Rome the triumvirs and their wives had to conform to the nobilitas norms so as to avoid distinguishing themselves from

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196  Anne Bielman Sánchez members of their social class; these norms particularly concerned the roles of men and women in the couple. Hellenistic behaviour, such as polygamy or political action led by a wife, was not tolerated:  that is why the couple Mark Antony and Fulvia was considered transgressive (Harders and Hallett). This obligation of normality also applied to the first emperors, since in the imperial system established by Augustus as early as 27 B C E , the Princeps was only the primus inter pares. However, Roman rulers gradually drew closer to the divinities: by dressing up as Dionysus, Mark Antony made himself similar to the god and gave his actions a superhuman dimension (Ferriès); Augustus had his adopted father, Caesar, divinised, and was then associated during his lifetime with a cult rendered to the goddess Rome before being divinised after his death. The increasing closeness of some Romans and the gods sometimes allowed behaviour that deviated from the norm, including in couples. Thus, the adoption of Livia by her late husband Augustus was a singularity, even if it did not contravene any provision of Roman law. Non-​ compliance with the norms seems to have sometimes unleashed popular outrage or vindictiveness. The first Ptolemaic consanguine marriage between Ptolemy II and his sister Arsinoe II provoked reactions among the Greco-​Macedonian population of Alexandria; the authorities tried to stifle this criticism and justify the union by appealing to divine models, Zeus and Hera or Isis and Osiris.34 Ptolemy XI Alexander, who had murdered his wife and partner on the throne, Berenice III, after only 18 or 19 days of marriage, was put to death by the Alexandrians, who were very attached to the queen.35 On the other hand, the murder of the young Ptolemy Memphites by his father Ptolemy VIII  –​who acted, according to later Latin sources, out of hatred towards the child’s mother, his sister-​wife Cleopatra II  –​aroused the sympathy of the Alexandrians for the queen, but they had no means of acting against the king, who had taken refuge in Cyprus (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton).36 It is unfortunate that we have so little evidence of popular reactions to royal deviations from societal norms. Moreover, most of these testimonies concern the Alexandrian crowd, which raises suspicion as to their veracity; they could be the reflection of a prejudice of the classical authors concerning the “uncontrollable nature” of the Alexandrians.

The private side of ancient power couples In this part of the survey, we would like to take a look behind the official facade of power couples and try to access a more intimate side of their relationships. We discuss successively the emotional relationships between partners, the relationships of domination within certain power couples, several aspects affecting daily life and sexual relations between these spouses, and finally the role of motherhood within the leading couples. Before going any further, it should be stressed that we have little information on the private, intimate relationships maintained by the partners of ancient power couples. The joint mention of a couple and their children is sometimes the only proof

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Power couples in antiquity 197 of a conjugal life or of a family life. And if ancient sources do not report any marital crisis, we too often deduce that affectionate feelings existed between partners. In short, we do not know and we will never know if Mark Antony and Cleopatra were really happy in marriage! Emotional relationships within the couple Several couples of ancient leaders established explicitly a correspondence between conjugal harmony and political harmony (Widmer and Cenerini): philia, which Aristotle presents as the ideal bond between conjugal partners –​a lasting bond based on mutual affection37 –​seems to be at the heart of the royal propaganda elaborated by Antiochus III and his wife Laodice (Widmer). Was this royal philia (or philostorgia) only a hollow speech, or did it correspond to a daily reality? We cannot definitively answer this question owing to the lack of documentation. The loving relationship between Mark Antony and Cleopatra symbolised the amicitia (friendship) between Rome and Egypt: both between the individuals and between the countries the relationship was not perfectly equal and the advantage was on the Roman side (Ferriès). For the couple Augustus and Livia, a strong parallel was created between marital concordia and civic concordia (Cenerini). In Rome during the Empire, a legal term was sometimes used to describe the personal relationship between the partners of a power couple: the emperor’s wife was called a socia (“associate”), and as such, she was allowed to share the intimate thoughts of her husband and was required to sustain him through her adoption of exemplary behaviour (Späth). It is difficult to know whether this term “socia” had concrete resonances, but the sources report, for example, that Augustus agreed to be influenced on political subjects by his wife Livia (Cenerini n. 83–​4). Some of the relationships among leaders may have been born of mutual attraction: this seems to be so of Ptolemy I and his fourth wife, Berenice I, who was a relative of the king’s previous wife and was probably his mistress before becoming his wife. However, cases of “love at first sight” between leaders seem rare. Poppaea was also Emperor Nero’s mistress before she became his wife, but it is difficult to know whether she really felt an attraction towards him or whether she was forced to give in to his insistent advances.38 In any case, some couples were able to stage the feeling of love; thus, the Ptolemaic rulers Ptolemy III and Berenice II transformed the affair called “the lock of Berenice” into an advertising product concerning love between royal spouses:39 the queen had sacrificed to the divinity a lock of hair for the salvation of her husband during a Ptolemaic campaign in Syria. The lock disappeared, but a Ptolemaic astronomer found it among the stars, an indisputable sign of the divinisation of the queen. Berenice thus became the symbol of the perfect wife and lover, while the royal couple acquired a divine aura and a glamorous touch.40 For his part, Octavian was so in love with Livia and so eager to make her his wife that he kidnapped her and took her to his home while

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198  Anne Bielman Sánchez she was expecting a baby of her first husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, whom she quickly divorced. However, marrying a woman while she was pregnant with her previous husband’s child was not so unusual in Rome (Cenerini). The sources do not say anything of Livia’s feelings regarding this situation, and the presumed words Augustus pronounced 53 years later on his deathbed to Livia (“Live mindful of our wedlock, Livia, and farewell”)41 hardly help us understand the nature of the emotional ties between these spouses (Cenerini). The majority of couples involving an ancient ruler, however, were the result of marriages of reason, which fulfilled political imperatives. Some of these unions worked harmoniously (at least in appearance) but without the spouses publicly showing affection: M. D’Agostini notes how difficult it is to know what Cleopatra Thea and Antiochus VII felt towards each other (D’Agostini). Other imposed unions, on the other hand, have given rise to feelings of hatred between partners. Thus, according to literary sources which are very critical towards Ptolemy VIII, the king had his son killed and dismembered out of hatred for her sister (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton). Cleopatra Thea refused to open the doors of the fortress of Akra to shelter her husband Demetrius II when he was pursued by enemies, thus condemning him to death.42 As seen above, Ptolemy XI murdered his wife Berenice III after 18 or 19  days of marriage. These ancient couples who experienced marital tensions or episodes of paroxysmal violence have one thing in common: the female partner had political power; thus, each partner represented a potential threat to the other, a threat that had to be contained or eliminated by any available means. Relationships of domination within the couple Greek and Roman societies were patriarchal. Hence one would expect that in power couples  –​as in ordinary couples  –​the male partner would have systematically dominated his female partner. This was true for many power couples. At the beginning of the Roman Empire, the emperor’s ability to control the actions of his wife, who was required to support her husband, was carefully scrutinised. The weakness of Claudius towards first Messalina, then Agrippina, contrasted with societal expectations and was one of the criticisms that was addressed to the emperor. However, couples such as Antiochus III-​ Laodice or Augustus-​ Livia expressed a form of equality between partners through philostorgia or concordia (Widmer and Cenerini). Aristotle said that intellectual equality between partners and their capacity to combine their respective skills may reinforce the marital bond (Widmer). This could have been the case for these two couples in particular. Other couples allowed the female partner to occupy a position that was slightly superior to that of the male, at least in practice if not officially. This pertains, for example, to the couples Adea Eurydice-​Philip Arrhidaeus (Carney) and Ptolemy IV-​Arsinoe III (Bielman Sánchez/Joliton), both for particular reasons: Philip Arrhidaeus was probably mentally disabled; Ptolemy IV was younger than his sister-​wife and was perhaps endowed with

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Power couples in antiquity 199 less political sense, at least during the first years of their reign. This second duo illustrates an element of ancient power couples that greatly influenced the relationship of domination: the respective ages of the spouses and their life experience at the time the union was entered into. Certainly, not everyone in antiquity knew his or her precise age, but significant age differences were noticeable. Moreover, it was not so much age as such that mattered, but the life experiences that preceded the forming of the couple. If the woman was older and more mature than the man on certain levels (sexually or politically), or if she had several networks from her previous unions, she had greater standing in front of her male partner and took more initiative in the couple. Yet, in the ruling spheres, women who were related to powerful families were heavily courted; they remarried almost systematically after widowhood or divorce. It was therefore not uncommon for them to be older and to have entered into more unions than their husbands. Thus, in the couple formed by Demetrius Poliorcetes and Phila, at the time of their union in 321 BCE, the wife was about 30 years old whereas the husband was only 17 years old; and Phila had already been married to a powerful diadoch, Craterus, while Demetrius was in his first union and was not yet king of Macedonia (Carney). Similarly, Cleopatra Thea, born in 167 BCE at the earliest,43 was married in 150 BCE to Alexandre Balas and in 146 to Demetrius II, then 14 or 15 years old (D’Agostini). In her second marriage, the queen was therefore both older and more experienced in conjugal matters than her husband. An extreme example is that of Antiochus X and Cleopatra Selene: at the time of their marriage, the queen was at least 40 years old and the king only 17 or 18; Cleopatra Selene was also the mother-​in-​law of her young husband and had already been married three times. This atypical union gave rise to mockery among contemporaries.44 The Roman world did not present such caricatural situations. Nevertheless, before marrying Mark Antony, Fulvia had been married to two prominent members of the nobilitas, Clodius Pulcher and Scribonius Curio, and had been politically active with each of them. Mark Antony had previously had one or two wives, but with Fulvia he discovered that a wife could be a political interlocutor (Harders). Plutarch indirectly confirms the unusual power relations that were established between Mark Antony and Fulvia by noting the triumvir’s attraction to dominant women (Harders). The relationship between Cleopatra and Mark Antony was even more complex. In Egypt, the triumvir had no official status and was only Cleopatra’s host, whereas Cleopatra occupied the dominant institutional position according to the Ptolemaic system. Moreover, Mark Antony had probably no legal potestas over his children from Cleopatra, as they have not been conceived in a legal Roman marriage (Harders). However, he may have behaved towards them, socially and emotionally, as a paterfamilias. And the Alexandrian Donations showed he considered the children as his heirs (Ferriès). The age and maturity of the woman thus made it possible for male domination to occasionally be reversed, or in any case, for the balance of power within the couple to be modified. Marital dynamics could be transformed and sometimes escape social norms.

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200  Anne Bielman Sánchez Within the intimacy of couples The private lives of ancient leaders are rarely mentioned in the sources. We find some allusions here and there to the attentions that one partner might pay to the other, or discussions between spouses concerning the education of their children, even in the couple Philipp II-​Olympias (Carney). In addition, two elements are presented by ancient literary sources as evidence of an intimate relationship, that is, a close and exclusive relationship between two persons: sharing private correspondence and a common bed.

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​ he Athenians did not open the letters exchanged between Philip II and T Olympias and made this known:  it was a way of showing their respect towards the conjugal relationship of the king and his wife (Carney). According to Diodorus and Plutarch, Phila’s attachment to her husband Demetrius Poliorcetes is confirmed by the fact that when Demetrius besieged the city of Rhodes, the queen sent him letters, clothes, and blankets.45 ​Sharing the same bed was the distinctive sign of a consummated marriage. According to Euripides, the wife is the bedmate of her husband, “the bedmate making two with” (Widmer). Plutarch put three facts side by side: Philip II no longer or only rarely had sexual relations with Olympias; there was a snake in the queen’s bed; Olympias was attracted to an Orphic or Dionysian cult reserved for women. From Plutarch’s account, one gets the impression that only religious fears prevented Philip, as husband and dominant member of the couple, from requiring to spend the night with his wife (Carney). The ancient authors considered it normal for spouses to share a bed, even when the king was polygamous. This conception of conjugal relations also applied to Republican and Imperial leaders: Livia was worried when Augustus slept badly (Cenerini), and, according to Tacitus, Messalina waited until Claudius was asleep in their shared bed before getting up discreetly and going back to her lovers (Späth). It seems, moreover, that Roman emperors had to preserve an appearance of normality in their daily way of life and to respect Roman norms concerning relationships, including sharing the conjugal bed (Späth). However, ancient power couples lived in spacious residences, even palaces: did each member of such a couple have a particular room where he or she retired after the sexual act? If this were the case, they would have distinguished themselves from the ordinary couples who –​due to lack of space –​spent the whole night together. ​Sharing the intimate thoughts of the partner was perceived as another sign of a deep relationship and could allow the wife to be considered a socia (“partner, companion”) of her husband (Späth).

If certain power couples adopted a form of partnership in their public actions and a particular way of presenting themselves in public, we may suppose that in their sexual relations they maintained the traditional hierarchy

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Power couples in antiquity 201 between dominant man and dominated woman, which was at the foundation of all patriarchal societies. Was it the same for couples in which the wife was older and more experienced sexually than her spouse? Probably yes, but we cannot be sure. By comparing the respectable matron Cornelia and the (probable) courtesan Cynthia, Propertius highlights how much the former had to restrict her sexuality in order to ensure that her feelings and emotions obeyed the rules imposed by society and by the emperor Augustus, rules that were omnipresent even in the intimacy of power couples (Hallett). The virginity of the wife was not an essential criterion in the formation of a power couple: we saw previously that several powerful couples benefited from the previous marriages of the female partner and the social or political experience she had acquired within it. Adultery, however, was the worst crime a ruler’s wife could commit, as it seriously damaged her husband’s authority and image, as well as the legitimacy of her descendants. Augustus paid great attention to this question in a law enacted in 16 BCE (Lex Iulia de adulteris et de pudicitia): adultery was now considered a public offence (and no longer a private matter), and the charge brought against the adulteress, as well as her punishment, could be brought by persons other than the holders of patria potestas, namely persons other than the father and the husband. The law was particularly restrictive for women of the social elites, those who were intended to form a power couple with their husband. Shortly before enacting this law, Augustus had promulgated other legal provisions to encourage remarriage and motherhood (Lex Iulia de maritandis ordinibus, 18 BCE ) (Cenerini and Hallett). Thus, it was not a problem if a woman in a power couple had several husbands in succession, but it was fundamental that she saw only one man at a time. T. Späth examines in his study the case of Messalina, who was accused of having had several lovers while she was the wife of the emperor Claudius (Späth). Maternity and power couples While female virginity was not especially important for a power couple, motherhood was crucial. The fact that a ruler’s wife had children –​preferably sons, therefore heirs –​strengthened her position and encouraged her husband to integrate her into a dynastic propaganda strategy. Generally, motherhood did not create the power couple, but it reinforced its stability and image. Moreover, Aristotle saw procreation as an essential aspect (maybe the essential one) of the life of a couple (Widmer). By contrast, the infertility of a woman was a potential cause for divorce: it is in any case the reason invoked by the emperor Caligula for separating from his second wife, Lollia Paulina.46 A spicy fact: some years later, Lollia’s sterility was seen as an asset in the eyes of Claudius’s freedmen when they were looking for a second wife for the divorced emperor:  they felt that it would ensure that Claudius’s son, Britannicus, would have no rival (Späth).47 One sign of power couples’ interest in the birth of children is the replacement of biological motherhood by artificial motherhood in cases of necessity.

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202  Anne Bielman Sánchez When Arsinoe II married her brother Ptolemy II, around 273/​2 B C E , she was over 40 years old and could no longer give birth, but around 260 B C E , a few years after the death of Arsinoe II and her divinisation by her brother-​ husband, Ptolemy II revised the official Ptolemaic genealogy so as to make the late Arsinoe II the mother of the children he had had with his first wife.48 However, some counterexamples lead us to relativise somewhat the importance of motherhood in the creation of a power couple. Thus, Cleopatra III’s sons, Ptolemy IX and Ptolemy X, married several times and fathered children with their wives,49 yet so long as their dominant mother was alive, she formed the ruling partnership with one or the other of these two kings. The motherhood of the royal wives could not overthrow the family hierarchy. The case of Cleopatra Thea, who prevented her son Antiochus VIII and her daughter-​ in-​law Cleopatra Tryphaina from forming a power couple, was evoked previously50. We note that Cleopatra III and Cleopatra Thea, who represented two exceptional cases of dictatorial mothers, were sisters! Augustus, for his part, introduced a new paradigm. He had not succeeded in having children with his wife Livia, whereas Livia had previously had two sons. Despite this he did not separate from her or renounce the idea of creating a power couple with her. On the contrary, he highlighted their conjugal harmony. In doing so, Augustus made it known to the public and the senators that what Livia brought to his couple was, in his eyes, more important than the children that another woman could have given him. He indicated that a wife was not reduced to her maternal function, that her role in a couple extended well beyond her reproductive mission and could concern the political sphere (Cenerini, n. 17–​18). To replace the children he could not have with Livia, Augustus chose heirs among his relatives:  Claudius Marcellus first, then the sons of his daughter Julia and Agrippa, and finally Tiberius, the younger son of Livia. As Mireille Corbier has clearly shown, through divorce, remarriage, and adoption, Augustus reshaped his family, introduced new inheritance practices, and suggested new ways of functioning for the ruling couple and for the couples who were related to him.51 However, Augustus’ laws granting privileges to mothers of three or more children remind us that motherhood remained a goal that every good Roman wife should seek to achieve; Propertius’ emphasis on the offspring of Cornelia  –​L.  Aemilius Lepidus Paullus’ wife  –​confirms this point (Hallett). The importance of motherhood is underlined in the debate about the future second wife of the emperor Claudius (Späth).

Conclusion. Power couples: a social phenomenon We have tried to sketch above an initial survey of current reflections and studies on ancient power couples. It underlines the extent to which this particular form of association between two partners was dependent on the society that had brought them to its pinnacle: society imposed on them its cultural and moral values, its prohibitions and margins of tolerance, its institutions,

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Power couples in antiquity 203 its legal norms, and its practices –​in particular those relating to marriage and divorce, thus polygamy or monogamy –​and finally its political organisation. This is the reason why important differences appear between the power couples of the Hellenistic period, those of the end of the Roman Republic, and those of the beginning of the Roman Empire. These differences particularly affect the way couples are highlighted, since what was legal or encouraged in one kingdom when wishing to glorify the relationships of rulers was not necessarily the same in another political system, or even in a neighbouring kingdom. They also concern the official position of the couple’s female partner, since current legislation and practices relating to the status of women in each of these societies had to be taken into account. The power couples thus had to conform to the pre-​existing norms and customs of the society in which they exercised their power; they could not deviate from it without risking losing their legitimacy. Such as was the case with the Roman Mark Antony, guilty of copying the polygamy of the Hellenistic sovereigns. Some power couples, however, dared to innovate:  we think of Augustus, who adopted his wife and made her the sole priestess of his posthumous cult, thus conferring on her an incredible prestige in front of the other matrons. The boundary between an intolerable deviation from the norm and an accepted evolution sometimes seems tenuous to us, and the reasons which pushed the ancients to classify such behaviour in one category or the other are not always obvious. On the other hand, some constants are found at various points in times and therefore mitigate diachronic variations. We think in particular of the scenography of the couple –​systematically conceived as a political strategy designed to reinforce the power of one or both partners –​of the parallelism established between the harmony existing within the ruling couple and the harmony between the leaders and their people, of the frequent highlighting of the emotional links –​real or fictional –​uniting the partners. On the one hand, the desire to give the male member of the power couple a dominant role and position, and, on the other hand, the possible disturbances caused by the failure to respect this gendered hierarchy, also stand out as recurring elements. However, this last point is questionable, given that the extent of these disorders varies greatly according to the sources of information that are available to us: it can vary from no disorder at all, according to official documents that were contemporary to the events, to a major political crisis, according to classical authors who wrote many decades or centuries after the facts. Hence there are many contradictions between the different categories of sources dealing with ancient power couples. These discrepancies result from successive filters and biases. Indeed, each power couple gave itself an official image corresponding to a precise media strategy. This official image was adapted to the public for which it was primarily intended; however, like any media product, the original, official image was gradually interpreted and reshaped, first by the contemporaries of the leaders, then by successive generations. The information we have is often incomplete and only rarely

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204  Anne Bielman Sánchez allows us to compare testimonies from the same period on the same power couple. It is therefore impossible to precisely reconstruct how the image of each ancient ruling duo evolved over several centuries. In addition, we lack reliable information about the intimacy of ancient power couples and their personal relationships outside their official appearances together in public. It might have seemed futile and artificial to propose, as an introduction to this volume, some reflections on contemporary Western power couples (twentieth and twenty-​first centuries) in view of the abyss that separates us from Greco-​Roman antiquity in terms of social organisation, political systems, laws, the place reserved for women, religious beliefs, or moral codes. But yet, mutatis mutandis, ancient and contemporary power couples often seem to play on the same media strategies: the importance given to feelings of love and/​or mutual affection, the carefully calculated staging of each public appearance, the perception of the couple as an instrument for multiplying the individual network of each partner, even the will to give sometimes to the power couple an appearance of normality –​all this finds echoes in several power couples of today. The place reserved for the family and children could also be an interesting point of comparison: for the Greco-​Roman power couples, children were expected of the leading duo and were part of their public staging. On the contrary, in European and American democracies, children do not loom large in the public image of political power couples, with the exception of Donald Trump’s first three children and son-​in-​law (Hallett, n.  21). But the situation is different for contemporary power couples known in fashion, sport, or cinema who have built part of their media popularity on their children, such as Victoria and David Beckham or Brangelina: in this way, these couples are quite the heirs of antique behaviour.52 This survey on Greco-​Roman power couples is part of a research project that focuses more broadly on the phenomenon of the couple in ancient societies. A second book resulting from this project and devoted to ordinary Greek and Roman couples should be published within one or two years. It will take as elements of comparison certain aspects that we have noted here: the expression of emotional ties between spouses, the place of motherhood and children in the stability of a couple, the respective roles of men and women in the internal dynamics of the couple and in the image that the couple wishes to give of itself in public. This future study will bring answers to an unsettled question:  did ancient power couples resemble ordinary couples in certain aspects, or were they exceptional in all respects?

Notes 1 Nor is there a single term in Greek or Latin for “couple”, but rather a series of expressions specifying the nature and quality of the relationship between a man and a woman. 2 And even that is doubtful, because the legitimacy of these children is never absolutely certain.

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Power couples in antiquity 205 3 No single leader is certified; however, some were widowers when they came to power and did not remarry, such as the Roman emperor Vespasian, who ruled in the second half of the first century BC E . 4 We can certainly imagine pressure exerted on the female partner in this context. Therefore, it cannot be doubted that if the female partner were to act unwillingly, it could lead to the failure of the couple’s transformation process. 5 Cic., Ad Fam. 5.8. 6 Some exceptions exist; they will be examined infra, part The official role of women in an ancient power couple 7 On this subject, see Caneva (2016), chap.  4. “Ptolemy II and Arsinoe II: configurations of the dynastic couple”, 130–​78; Müller (2009). 8 The conjugal relations between Ptolemy III and Berenice II would undoubtedly merit a thorough study. See however Clayman (2014); Carrez-​Maratray (2014). 9 On this queen, see more recently Clayman (2014) and Carray-​Maratray (2014). 10 On this couple, see also Ogden (1999), 173–​76; Carney (2000), 164–​9; Harders (2013); Carney (forthcoming). 11 Plut. Dem.14.2. 12 Diod.19.59.4 et Plut. Dem.32.4. 13 A debate arose between modern scholars on the conception of polygamy/​polygyny of the Hellenistic kings. Among the authors convinced of the polygamy of the Hellenistic kings and the simultaneous existence of several wives of a king are Ogden (1999), Carney (2011), 195–​220, Widmer (2011), and Carney n. 3. in this volume. On the discussion, see Widmer n. 2 and 6 in this volume. 14 This legal monogamy did not prohibit a man from maintaining a concubine or having temporary relations with courtesans or prostitutes. The judicial orations transmitted by Athenian speakers from the fourth century B CE provide an illustration of the variety of individual situations. 15 Ogden (1999) showed the negative impact of these conflicts between rival mothers (amphimetric conflicts) on the stability of the Hellenistic kingdoms. 16 Some exceptions are known, as that of Cleopatra II and Cleopatra III in the “throuple” they formed with Ptolemy VIII (141/​0–​132 and 124–​116 B CE ): one had the title “Sister (of the king)”, the other the title “Wife (of the king)”, but both had an official and prestigious position beside the king. See Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 245–​72 and 341–​92. 17 See Renucci (2015), n. 43–​4. 18 Hellenistic kings who married women from other Greek dynasties never encountered difficulties in legitimising their union and making their wives queens and partners in a power couple. However, no Hellenistic king ever married a Roman woman or tried to legitimise her as queen. 19 On marriage in Rome, see e.g. Hersch (2010). 20 Cf. the previous note. 21 See Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b). 22 As evidence of non-​repudiation, we may think of the two wives of Ptolemy VIII, Cleopatra II and Cleopatra III, who appear side by side in the Ptolemaic protocols (see Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 215–​44), or Apama and Stratonice, the two wives of Seleucos I (see Widmer (2016)). On the issue of repudiation, see in particular the remarks of Widmer (2011). Let us mention, however, one dubious case: Arsinoe I, the first wife of Ptolemy II and mother of the future Ptolemy III, could have been set aside from the court when Ptolemy II decided to marry his

206

206  Anne Bielman Sánchez sister Arsinoe II (273/​2 BC E ?); we know from a scholiast of Theocritus that she was sent to reside at Coptos, in Thebaid, Schol. Theocr. 17.129. However, it is not explicitly said that this exile was linked to the marriage of Ptolemy II and Arsinoe II, and some modern scholars place the separation of Arsinoe I in 279 B CE already, notably Ogden (1999), 74 and 107 n. 44. 23 The case of Antiochus II’s first wife, Laodice II, whose land and network extended after the king remarried to the Ptolemaic princess Berenice Phernephorus, is discussed by Widmer (forthcoming). 24 However, the issue would merit systematic study. 25 We note however that there are also few contemporary examples of multicultural couples of leaders. 26 See on this subject Polybius’ portrait of the queen Apollonis: Plb.22.20. 27 Letter from Laodice to the inhabitants of Iasos. Ma (1999), no 26A, 180–​2 and 196–​8, ll. 25–​26: γινομένοις θ’ ὑμῖν εἴς τε τὸν ἀδελφὸν καὶ καθόλου τὸν οἶκον ἡμῶν οἵους καθήκει. 28 We can see this in Laodice’s letter to the inhabitants of Iasos, cf. the previous note. For an analysis of the document, see Ma (1999), no 26A, 180–​2 and 196–​8; Bielman (2002), 161–​5. 29 Remarks said by A.-​ C. Harders during the workshop of 9–​ 10 November 2017, UNIL. 30 See the remarks supra, part Greek and Roman sources on power couples. 31 See Ogden (1999), 87 and 153–​4. 32 This was the case of Cleopatra I at the death of Ptolemy V: Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015a), 157. 33 For example, concerning the Lagids, the Alexandrian poet Theocritus justifies the consanguine marriage between Ptolemy II and his sister Arsinoe II by drawing a parallel with Zeus and Hera (Theoc. Idylls 17.130–​3), while the Egyptian priest and historian Manethon of Sebennytos presents the political role of royal women as a habit of the previous pharaohs, see Grzybek (2008), 25–​38. 34 Thus Theoc. Idylls 17.127–​34. 35 See Bennett (2001–​12), s.v. “Ptolemy XI” and “Berenice III”. 36 On this case, see also Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 278–​85. 37 Philia implies the reciprocity of the affective bond: Konstan (1996), 75. 38 On the triangle Nero (lover) –​Othon (husband) –​Poppea (mistress and wife), see Devillers (2009). 39 See Carrez-​Maratray (2008). 40 This episode was told by Callimachus, the famous poet of the Alexandrian court, and it also inspired the Latin poet Catullus (Carmina 66, c. 79–​88). See Carray-​ Maratray (2014), 91–​102, and Clayman (2014), 97–​104. 41 Suet. Aug. 99. 42 Just. 39.1.7; Jos. AJ 13.9b.3 (267); App. Syr. 68. 43 According to Bielman Sánchez et al. (2015b), 164–​5. 44 Ogden (1999), 157, assumes that the union of the adolescent with his mother-​in-​ law allowed a leviratic legitimisation of the young king. 45 Plut. Dem. 22.1; Diod. 20.93.4. 46 Suet. Calig. 25,2. 47 Tac. Ann. 12.1. 48 See Bennett (2001–​12), s.v. “Ptolemy II”. 49 See Bennett (2001–​12), s.v. “Ptolemy IX” and “Ptolemy X”.

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Power couples in antiquity 207 50 See supra n. 31. 51 Corbier (1995) and (2007). 52 Moreover, the instrumentalisation of children in the media by one or both partners of a power couple going through a break-​up or divorce provides another point of comparison between ancient and contemporary situations: while Ptolemy VIII stages the dismemberment of the body of his son Ptolemy Memphites to punish Cleopatra II for having broken the conjugal and political alliance, Brangelina appeal to the public on the question of the guardianship of their numerous children.

Bibliography Bennett Ch. (2001–​ 12). The Ptolemaic Dynasty. ​www.trismegistos.org/​calendar/​ Bennett/​ptolemies/​ptolemies.htm or www.instonebrewer.com/TyndaleSites/Egypt/ ptolemies/ptolemies.htm. Bielman A. (2002) Femmes en public dans le monde hellénistique, IVe-​Ier s.  av. J.-​C. Paris: SEDES. Bielman Sánchez A. and Lenzo G. (2015a) “Réflexions à propos de la ‘régence’ féminine hellénistique. L”exemple de Cléopâtre I”. Studi ellenistici 29, 145–​74. Bielman Sánchez A. and Lenzo G. (2015b) Inventer le pouvoir féminin: Cléopâtre I et Cléopâtre II, reines d’Egypte au IIe s. av. J.-​C. Bern: Peter Lang. Caneva S. (2016) From Alexander to the Theoi Adelphoi. Foundation and Legitimacy of a Dynasty. Leuven/​Paris/​Bristol: Peeters. Carney, E. D. (2000) Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. Norman:  University of Oklahoma Press. Carney E. D. (2011) “Being Royal and Female in the Early Hellenistic Period”. In Erskine A. and Llwellyn-​ Jones L. (eds) Creating a Hellenistic World. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 195–​220. Carney E. D. (forthcoming) “The First Basilissa: Phila, Daughter of Antipater and Wife of Demetrius Poliorcetes”. In Tsouvala G. and Ancona R. (eds). Oxford/​ New York: Oxford University Press. Carrez-​Maratray J.-​Y. (2008) “A propos de la boucle de Bérénice. La publicité des reines lagides”. In Bertholet F., Bielman Sánchez A. and Frei-​Stolba R. (eds) Egypte-​Grèce-​Rome. Les différents visages des femmes antiques. Bern: Peter Lang, 93–​116. Carrez-​Maratray J.-​Y. (2014) Bérénice II d’Egypte. Une reine dans les étoiles. Paris: Ellipses. Clayman D. L. (2014) Berenice II and the Golden Age of Ptolemaic Egypt. Oxford/​ New York: Oxford University Press. Corbier M. (1995) “Male Power and Legitimacy through Women:  the domus Augusta under the Julio-​Claudians”. In Hawley R. and Levick B. (eds) Women in Antiquity: New Assessments. London/​New York: Routledge, 178–​93. Corbier M. (2007) “Parenté et pouvoir à Rome”. In Genet J.-​Ph. (ed.) Rome et l’Etat moderne européen (Collection de l’Ecole Française de Rome, 377)  Rome:  EFA, 173–​96. Delrieux F. and Ferriès M.-​C. (2016) “Portraits de femmes, profils de reines? Les femmes sur les monnaies provinciales romaines à la fin de la République et au début de l’Empire (43 a.C-​68 p. C.)”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I. and Kolb A.(eds) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. Grenoble:  ELLUG, 81–​118.

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208  Anne Bielman Sánchez Devillers O. (2009) “La relation entre Néron, Othon et Poppée:  parcours de l’information”. In Croisille J.-​ M. (ed.) Ars pictoris, ars scriptoris:  peinture, littérature, histoire. Mélanges offerts à Jean-​Michel Croisille (Erga 11). Clermont-​ Ferrand: Presses universitaires Blaise Pascal, 327–​37. Grzybek E. (2008), “Le pouvoir des reines lagides. Son origine et sa justification”. In Bertholet F., Bielman Sánchez A. and Frei-​Stolba R. (eds) Egypte-​Grèce-​Rome. Les différents visages des femmes antiques. Bern: Peter Lang, 25–​38. Harders A.-​C. (2013) “Ein Kőnig und viele Kőniginnen? Demetrios Poliorketes und seine Ehefrauen”. In Kunst C. (ed.) Matronage  –​Handlungsstrategien und soziale Netzwerke von Herrscherfrauen im Altertum in diachroner Perspektive, Internationale Tagung vom 22.–​24. März 2012 in Osnabrück. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf GmbH, 43–​50. Hersch K. K. (2010) The Roman Wedding. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Konstan D. (1996) “Greek Friendship”. American Journal of Philology 117.1, 71–​94. Kunst C. (2016) “Formen der Intervention einflussreicher Frauen”. In Bielman Sanchez A., Cogitore I. and Kolb, A. (eds) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. Grenoble: ELLUG, 197–​216. Ma J. (1999) Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor. Oxford:  Oxford University Press. Mueller S. (2009) Das hellenistische Königspaar in der medialen Repräsentation. Ptolemaios II und Arsinoe II. Berlin/​New York: De Gruyter. Ogden D. (1999) Polygamy, Prostitutes and Death. The Hellenistic Dynasties. London: Duckworth/​Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Renucci P (2015). Marc Antoine. Un destin inachevé entre César et Cléopâtre. Editons Perrin: Cairn.Info. Widmer M. (2011) “The Repudiation of Laodice III”. Lecture summarized in the report of Coşkun A.  “Seleucid Study Day I, 15.08.2011 Exeter”. H-​Soz-​Kult (https://​www.hsozkult.de/​), 27 October 2011. Widmer M. (2016) “Apamé. Une reine au coeur de la construction d’un royaume”. In Bielman Sánchez A., Cogitore I. and Kolb A. (eds) Femmes influentes dans le monde hellénistique et à Rome. IIIe s. av. J.-​C.-​IIe s. ap. J.-​C. Grenoble: ELLUG, 17–​33. Widmer M. (forthcoming) BASILISSA. Les identités politiques des reines séleucides (305–​150 av. n. è.) (Studia Hellenistica). Leuven: Peeters.

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Index

N.B. The figures are indexed (page number in italics) and also the tables (page ­number in bold). On the other hand, the endnotes are not indexed, unless the word or name concerned does not appear in the main text. Acco see Ptolemais acting as a couple 87–​88, 119, 144 Adea Eurydice 5, 16, 22–​5, 184, 186–​7, 198 adoption (between conjugal partners) 141–​3, 189, 196, 202 adultery 16, 19–​20, 138, 164n18, 180, 201 Aemilia (sister of Paullus Aemilius Lepidus) 153, 157–​60 Aemilius Lepidus Paullus (L.) see Paullus Aemilius Lepidus Affleck, Ben see “Bennifer” Agathokleia (mistress of Ptolemy IV) 70, 82 Agrippina the Elder (A. Major, granddaughter of Augustus, wife of Germanicus) 137 Agrippina the Younger (A. Minor, last wife of Emperor Claudius) 5, 166–​9, 171, 173–​4, 180, 198 Alexander IV (Macedonian king) 23 Alexander Balas (Seleucid king) 42–​58, 45, 179, 194, 199 Alexander Helios (son of Cleopatra VII) 105, 107–​8 Alexander Romance 21, 180 Alexandria 51, 71, 74–​5, 83, 87, 99–​100, 105–​110, 193, 196 Alexandrian Donations 100, 108, 199 Ammonius (philos of Alexander Balas) 44, 49, 50–​1 Amyntas III (Macedonian king) 16–​17, 20 Antioch 42–​3, 49, 50–​3, 56

Antiochus I Soter (Seleucid king) 34 Antiochus II Theos (Seleucid king) 32, 34, 36 Antiochus III the Great (Seleucid king) 5, 32–​4, 36–​7, 54–​7, 183, 185, 190, 193, 197–​8 Antiochus IV Epiphanes (Seleucid king) 42–​3, 48, 51, 55–​6 Antiochus VI Dionysus (Seleucid king) 53 Antiochus VII Sidetes (Seleucid king) 42, 53–​8, 183, 194, 198 Antiochus VIII Grypus (Seleucid king) 42, 53, 186, 194, 202 Antiochus IX Cyzicenus (Seleucid king) 56–​7 Antiochus X Eusebes (Seleucid king) 199 Antonia (second wife of Mark Antony) 121 Antony (M. Antonius, triumvir) see Mark Antony Apama (first wife of Seleucus I) 32–​4, 205n22 Aphrodite 55, 104, 186, 191 Apollonis (Attalid queen) 193 Appian 43, 50, 122–​4, 128, 152, 154 Aristotle 35–​7, 197–​8, 201 Arsinoe I (first wife of Ptolemy II) 205n22 Arsinoe II (Macedonian then Ptolemaic queen) 32, 47, 48, 74, 77, 80, 92n36, 185, 196, 202 Arsinoe III (Ptolemaic queen) 5, 69–​85, 70, 72, 73, 78, 88–​9, 181–​2, 188, 198 Asteria 55

210

210 Index Atagartatis see Aphrodite auctoritas (and couple) 120–​1 Augustus (Roman emperor) see Octavian/​Augustus Beckham (Victoria and David) 7, 9, 204 bed: bedmate 36, 200; conjugal 18, 36, 155–​6, 159, 173, 186, 200 “Bennifer” (Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez) 7 Berenice I (Ptolemaic queen) 77, 197 Berenice II (Ptolemaic queen) 69, 70, 71–​2, 74, 77, 80, 185, 197 Berenice III (Ptolemaic queen) 81, 196, 198 Berenice IV 103 Berenice Syra (Seleucid queen) 32, 42 Beyoncé and Jay-​Z 1 “Brangelina” (Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie) 1, 7, 204 brother-​sister artificial bond 37, 185, 187, 190; brother-​sister conjugal bond 42, 44, 45, 48, 69–​89, 185, 187, 190, 195–​6, 198; see also marriage with close kin Burton, Richard see Taylor, Liz Caecina (Aulus Caecina Severus, Roman statesman) 170, 184 Caesar (C. Iulius Caesar, Roman dictator) 3, 99, 101–​2, 104–​6, 109, 111, 122, 124, 136, 139, 143, 196 Caesar Octavian (Julius Caesar Octavianus, i.e. Emperor Augustus) see Octavian/​Augustus Caesarion see Ptolemy XV Caligula (Roman emperor) 167, 192, 201 Cassius Dio 122, 124, 136, 138, 140–​3, 152, 171–​4 Chao, Elaine 152, 154, 160 child and power couple 2, 7, 16, 19, 22, 35–​7, 44, 53–​8, 69, 74–​5, 82, 86–​7, 99, 106, 109–​10, 122–​3, 137–​9, 155–​62, 168–​9, 173, 180–​2, 190–​1, 193, 196, 198, 199–​202, 204; see also motherhood Cicero 112n2, 118, 120–​2, 152, 182 Cilicia 49, 51, 101, 104, 107 Claudia Marcella (second wife of Paullus Aemilius Lepidus) 139, 152, 153, 158 Claudius (Roman emperor) 5, 141–​3, 166–​174, 180–​1, 183, 189, 192, 198, 200–​2

Cleopatra (last wife of Philip II) 17–​9, 20, 180 Cleopatra I 59n17, 61n47, 86, 93n71, 206n32 Cleopatra II (Ptolemaic queen) 5, 69, 81, 85, 86, 86–​9, 192, 196 Cleopatra III (Ptolemaic queen) 81, 86, 86–​8, 194, 202 Cleopatra VII (Ptolemaic queen) 5, 9, 81, 99–​111, 124, 128, 130, 136, 180–​3, 186–​8, 191–​3, 197, 199 Cleopatra Selene (daughter of Cleopatra VII) 105, 107 Cleopatra Selene (Ptolemaic then Seleucid queen) 199 Cleopatra Thea (Seleucid queen) 5, 42–​58, 45, 47, 182–​3, 186, 194, 198–​9, 202 Cleopatra Tryphaina (Ptolemaic then Seleucid queen) 65n90, 194, 202 Clinton (Hillary Rodham and William Jefferson) 6, 8, 9, 151–​2, 154, 160 Copperfield, David see Schiffer, Claudia Craterus (diadoch, first husband of Phila) 199 Craterus (tutor of Antiochus IX) 56–​7 Coelesyria see Syria consul’s wife 118–​120, 152, 170, 184 Cornelia (wife of Paullus Aemilius Lepidus) 5, 151–​162, 153 Cornelii Scipiones 156–​8, 160 court: and conspiracy against a royal couple 70, 83–​85; Council of the Prince 167, 183; courtiers 22, 57, 82, 183, 188; Hellenistic 20, 22, 24, 43, 53–​5, 57, 69–​89, 99–​111, 182–​3, 188–​9, 193, 195; philoi of a sovereign 42, 44, 49–​50, 52–​4, 57; Roman 121, 129, 137, 142–​3; thiasos of amimetobioi 105 crisis (conjugal) 69–​71, 75–​6, 82–​9 Cynnane (sister of Alexander the Great) 23 Cynthia (lover of the Latin poet Propertius) 152, 154, 161–​2, 201 Dellius, Quintus (friend of Mark Antony) 102 Demetrius I Poliorcetes (Antigonid king) 24, 128, 184, 187, 199–​200 Demetrius I Soter (Seleucid king) 42–​4, 46, 48, 49, 51, 54

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Index 211 Demetrius II Nicator (Seleucid king) 42, 44, 49, 50–​7, 186, 194, 198 Diodotus Tryphon (usurper, Seleucid king) 50–​3, 56 Diodorus 20, 23–​4, 50, 53, 87, 187, 200 Dionysus 55, 104, 128, 129, 186, 191, 196 divine assimilation (homoiosis theo) 104 divine sonship 17–​21 divorce 19, 119, 121, 128, 136–​7, 144, 158, 167–​8, 170, 180, 189, 190–​2, 198–​9, 201–​3 Dole (Elizabeth and Robert) 151–​2, 154, 160–​1 domus 18–​9, 121, 137–​8, 156, 159–​60, 168–​70, 172, 174; domus Augusta 141–​2, 169, 171, 173–​4; domus Caesaris 14; see also household dynamics of couple: age of the partners 11n3, 50, 69, 71, 82, 144, 156, 167, 182, 199, 201–​2; domination between partners 1, 3, 182, 194, 196, 198–​9; see also auctoritas; crisis; feelings; potestas dynastic cult and power couple 72–​3, 76–​82, 87, 142, 185, 189; dynastic monument and power couple 20–​1 Edfu 77, 78, 79 Euboia (second wife of Antiochus III) 33, 190 Euripides 35–​7, 200 Eurydice (wife of Philip III Arrhidaeus) see Adea Eurydice Eurydice (wife of Amyntas III, mother of Philip II) 16–​17, 20, 23, 184 Eusebius 56 Fadia (first wife of Mark Antony) 121 family and power couple 2, 7, 8, 17, 21–​2, 36–​7, 54, 117, 120, 123, 143, 152, 156–​9, 162, 167–​69, 174, 182–​3, 185, 188, 193, 197, 202, 204 feelings between partners 197–​8; affection 7, 20, 35–​7, 184–​5, 190, 195, 197–​8, 204; amicitia 109, 111, 172, 197; concordia/​concord 118, 124, 144, 170, 184, 197–​8; hatred 4, 87, 196, 198; philia 35–​6, 185, 197; philostorgia 37, 184–​5, 197–​8; see also murder between partners flamen Dialis and his flaminica 119–​20 Flavius Josephus 43, 49, 52–​3 Fonteius Capito (C., friend of Mark Antony) 107

Fulvia (wife of Mark Antony) 104, 122–​4, 129, 136, 138, 152, 154, 158, 187, 193, 196, 199 Gabinius (A., Roman statesman) 99, 104, 109 Gable, Clark (and Lombard, Carole) 6 Gardner, Ava see Sinatra, Frank Gates (Bill and Melinda) 8 Geminius (C., emissary of Roman supporters of Mark Antony) 106 Hadid, Gigi (and Malik, Zayn) 10 Heracles/​Hercules 55, 104, 155, 162 Hollande, François 9 household 18–​9, 35–​6, 103–​4, 118–​20, 156–​8, 160–​1, 166, 168–​9, 171, 174, 193; see also domus; family infertility of a couple 22, 35, 135, 137, 160, 167–​8, 201–​2; see also motherhood innovation about couple 6, 36–​7, 58, 88–​9, 167, 185, 190 Jay-​Z see Beyoncé Jolie, Angelina see “Brangelina” John of Antioch 70, 83–​5, 88 John Malalas 38n9 Julia the Elder (daughter of Augustus) 136–​8, 141, 143, 153, 158–​9, 162, 192, 202 Julia the Younger (Julia Vipsania, granddaughter of Augustus, daughter of Julia the Elder, wife of L. Aemilius Paulllus) 152, 153 Julia Agrippina, see Agrippina the Younger Justin 16, 19, 50, 70, 84, 87, 180 Juvenal 171–​3 Kardashian (family) 7 Kennedy (John and Jackie) 8, 9 king: Hellenistic/​basileus 16–​25, 32–​37, 42–​58, 69–​89, 103–​6, 108–​10, 116, 130, 181, 184–​7, 190–​203; “Queen of the Kings” 110; “Sister of the King” 185–​8, 190 Laodice (daughters of Cleopatra Thea) 53, 56 Laodice II (Seleucid queen, wife of Antiochus II) 206n23

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212 Index Laodice III (Seleucid queen, wife of Antiochus III) 5, 32–​3, 36, 37, 45, 183–​5, 190, 193, 197–​8 Laodice IV (Seleucid queen, sister-​wife of Antiochus IV) 45 Laodice V (Seleucid queen, sister –​and wife? –​of Demetrius I Soter) 42, 44, 45, 48 law: laws of Augustus on marriage and adultery 137, 164n18, 191, 201–​2; laws about women or couples 99–​100, 116, 159, 169, 188, 191, 196, 199, 202, 204 Livia Drusilla (then Julia Augusta, third wife of Octavian/​Augustus) 1, 5, 136–​144, 158, 184, 186, 188, 189–​92, 194, 196–​8, 200, 202 living together 1, 7, 10–​11, 35–​7, 85–​6, 119, 173, 181, 200 Livy 44, 49, 70–​1, 87 Lombard, Carole see Gable Clark Lopez, Jennifer see “Bennifer” Lysimachus (king of Thracia) 32 McConnell, Mitch 152, 154 Maccabees (books of the): 1Maccabees 43–​4, 50, 53; 3Maccabees 70–​1 Malik, Zayn see Hadid, Gigi Mark Antony (M. Antonius, triumvir) 1, 3, 5, 9, 99–​111, 116–​130, 125, 126, 127, 129, 152, 154, 180–​1, 183, 186–​8, 191–​4, 196–​7, 199, 203 marriage: with close kin 22–​5, 32–​33, 69–​89, 121, 185, 194; Hellenistic 16–​25, 32–​37, 42–​58, 69–​89, 99–​111, 179–​204; hieros gamos 104; and legitimation of the imperial power 136–​144; matrimonium iustum 108, 118–​121, 176n22, 191; Roman 116–​130, 136–​144, 151–​162, 166–​174, 179–​204 maternity see motherhood media and power couples 1, 6–​10, 143, 183–​6, 203–​4 Messalla (M. Valerius Corvinus, Roman statesman) 170 Messalina (Valeria, wife of the emperor Claudius) 5, 166–​8, 171–​4, 180, 192, 198, 200–​1 monogamy 191–​2; serial monogamy 32, 191, 203

motherhood and power couple 118, 167, 169–​70, 172, 182, 184, 191, 196, 201–​2, 204; see also child murder: between partners 16, 19–​20, 70–​1, 83–​4, 173, 196, 198; of a power couple 71, 81, 83–​4 Murdoch, Rupert 9 Neos Dionysos 113n24, 128 Nero (Tiberius Claudius, Roman emperor) 142–​3, 173, 189, 192, 197 network of a power couple 3, 101, 110, 120, 184, 188, 199, 204 norms for couples 23, 118, 171, 174, 180, 190, 195–​6, 199–​200, 203 Obama (Barack and Michelle) 1, 8, 152, 154 Octavia (wife of Mark Antony) 104, 123–​8, 125, 126, 127, 129, 129–​30, 138–​40, 144, 152, 153, 158, 180, 183, 187–​8, 191–​4 Octavian/​Augustus (Julius Caesar Octavianus, i.e. Emperor Augustus) 3, 5, 101–​3, 105, 107–​8, 111, 117, 122–​5, 127, 128, 130, 136–​144, 151–​2, 153, 154, 157–​8, 159–​60, 162, 183–​4, 186–​8, 189–​94, 196–​8, 200–​3 Olympias (Macedonian queen) 1, 5, 16–​25, 180, 184, 186, 193, 200 Osiris 104, 191, 196 paterfamilias 118–​121 Paullus Aemilius Lepidus (also known as L. Aemilius Lepidus Paullus) 5, 151–​162, 153, 182, 202 pharaoh (male and female form) 72, 74, 185, 191 Phila (wife of Demetrius I Poliorcetes) 24, 185, 187, 199–​200 Philae 80, 82 Philip II (Macedonian king) 1–​2, 5, 16–​25, 128, 180, 184, 186, 193, 200 Philip III Arrhidaeus (Macedonian king) 5, 16, 22–​5, 184, 186–​7, 198 Philippeum 17, 20–​1 Pitt, Brad see “Brangelina” Plutarch 17–​20, 99, 101–​3, 110, 119, 123–​5, 128, 139, 143, 152, 171, 180, 193, 199–​200 Polybius 50, 70–​1, 82–​5, 88, 206n26 polygamy 16, 19, 22, 32, 180–​1, 185, 190–​1, 195–​6, 203

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Index 213 Poppaea (mistress then wife of the emperor Nero) 197 Porphyry 56–​7, 70 potestas 118–​121 Propertius 151–​162, 201–​2 protocol (opening) and power couple 71–​2, 86–​8 Ptolemais 42–​5, 47–​9, 51, 53–​4, 57–​8 Ptolemy I Soter (Ptolemaic king) 16, 32, 77, 197 Ptolemy II Philadelphus (Ptolemaic king) 32, 43, 72, 77, 185, 196, 202 Ptolemy III Euergetes (Ptolemaic king) 69, 70, 72, 77, 185, 197 Ptolemy IV Philopator (Ptolemaic king) 5, 69–​86, 70, 72–​3, 78, 88–​9, 181–​2, 188, 198 Ptolemy V Epiphanes Eucharistos (Ptolemaic king) 69, 70, 71, 74–​5, 83, 86, 86 Ptolemy VI Philometor (Ptolemaic king) 42–​4, 47, 49, 50–​5, 57, 86, 86, 194 Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II (Ptolemaic king) 5, 47, 69, 85–​9, 86, 196, 198 Ptolemy IX Soter II (Ptolemaic king) 86, 202 Ptolemy X Alexander I Philometor (Ptolemaic king) 86, 202 Ptolemy XI Alexander II (Ptolemaic king) 196, 198 Ptolemy XV Caesar Philopator Philometor (nicknamed Caesarion, Ptolemaic king) 99, 106, 108, 110 Ptolemy Memphites (son of Cleopatra II and Ptolemy VIII) 86–​7, 86, 196 queen: and cult epithet 52, 54–​5, 58, 72, 76, 186; Hellenistic/​basilissa 16–​25, 32–​37, 42–​58, 69–​89, 99–​111, 116–​130, 185, 187; and title 16, 22, 24, 34, 47, 52, 57, 72, 74, 80, 86–​7, 109–​10, 116, 128, 184–​5, 187–​91 Raphia: battle of 70–​4, 72–​3, 75–​6, 81, 84; decree of 72–​3, 73–​4, 76 representation of a power couple: bas-​relief 4, 11, 69, 86, 180–​1; coin 4, 44–​8, 45–​8, 55, 74–​5, 91n23, 99, 104, 124–​7, 125–​7, 130, 179, 181, 183, 188, 194; decree 24, 33–​4, 36, 73–​4, 72–​3, 75–​6, 181; jugate heads 21, 44–​7, 46–​8, 60n24, 114n49, 127, 129, 186, 194; medaillon 21; staging of the

couple 6–​8, 10, 17, 24, 45, 57, 82, 86, 99, 102, 113n38, 124, 128, 168, 179, 183, 186–​90, 197, 204, 207n52; statue 4, 17, 52, 74–​5, 186, 188; stele 40n30, 72–​3, 73–​79 repudiation 19, 39n13, 70–​1, 75, 84–​5, 136, 167, 181, 190–​2 Res Gestae Divi Augusti 145n12, 160 role of man or woman in a power couple 1, 3–​4, 16, 20, 22, 24, 42, 55, 117, 125–​6, 128, 130, 141–​2, 161, 180–​1, 188–​9, 194, 196, 202–​4; diplomatic role of the woman 47; official role 116–​17, 143, 193–​4; political role of the woman 44, 52–​3, 70–​1, 73–​6, 80, 82–​5, 88–​9, 99–​111, 128, 144, 181 Schiffer, Claudia (and Copperfield, David) 7 Scipio Aemilianus 156–​7, 160 Scribonia (second wife of Octavian, mother of Cornelia, the wife of Paullus Aemilius Lepidus) 136, 153, 156, 158–​9, 192 Seleucus I Nicator (Seleucid king) 32–​4 Seleucus V Philometor (Seleucid king) 42, 53 Senate of Rome: and couples 70, 123–​4, 130, 141–​2, 168–​70, 188, 194; and Egypt 70, 99, 101, 108–​9, 111; and Mark Antony 100–​1, 107–​8; and women 120, 122, 124, 140–​1, 167–​8. Servilia (mother of M. Iunius Brutus) 120 Sinatra, Frank (and Gardner, Ava) 6 stability (matrimonial and political) 7, 36–​7, 79, 84, 100, 123–​5, 130, 181, 184, 201, 204 Stratonice (wife of Seleucus I then of Antiochus II) 32, 34, 205n22 Suetonius 137–​9, 141–​2, 144, 167, 171, 173 Syria 42–​4, 46, 48–​9, 50–​1, 53–​5, 57, 87, 101, 107, 194, 197 Tacitus 137–​40, 166–​8, 170–​1, 173–​4, 184, 200 Tarsus 21, 101–​4, 111 Taylor, Liz (and Burton, Richard) 6, 9, 163n2 terminology about couple: consort/​ consortia 116, 166, 170, 194; portmanteau 7–​8; socia 169;

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214 Index supercouple 6–​8, 10–​11; superfamily 7; synduo 36 Thespiae: city and/​or sanctuary of the Muses 74–​5, 81 Tiberius (Roman emperor) 119, 137–​8, 141–​3, 170, 192, 202 Tiberius Claudius Nero (first husband of Livia Drusilla) 137, 158, 198 trio of rulers/​throuple 33, 36, 86, 88–​9, 125, 127, 130, 183, 205n16 Tyche 46, 46, 55, 124

Velleius Paterculus 136, 139, 142–​3, 152 Vipsania Agrippina (first wife of Emperor Tiberius) 192 widowhood 16–​17, 44, 122, 124, 139, 158, 167, 169, 199 Windsor: Kate and William 8, 9 Zeus 21, 37, 45, 54–​5, 196