The Greek Slogan of Freedom and Early Roman Politics in Greece [1 ed.] 0195375181, 9780195375183

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t he g reek s logan of f reedom and e arly r oman p olitics in g reece

The reverse of this silver stater from Locri Epizephyri (BMC. Italy, no. 15 = Head, HN2, 103–104 = SNG. Oxford, no. 1570 = SNG. ANS, no. 531 = HN. Italy, no. 2347) shows Pistis (ΠΙΣΤΙΣ) crowning seated Roma (ΡΩΜΑ), allegedly commemorating the surrender of the Locrians to Rome in 277 b.c. (the date has been disputed). The obverse (not seen here) portrays the laureate head of Zeus. The question of the identification of Pistis on this coin, which has been associated either with Greek pistis (good faith) or with Roman fides (trust), closely relates to a general problem of how correctly the Greeks interpreted Roman political vocabulary, when they rationalized Roman politics within the traditional Greek system of values (see chapter 7).

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The Greek Slogan of Freedom and Early Roman Politics in Greece Sviatoslav Dmitriev

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Oxford University Press, Inc., publishes works that further Oxford University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education. Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam

Copyright © 2011 by Oxford University Press, Inc. Published by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 www.oup.com Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Dmitriev, Sviatoslav. The slogan of freedom and early Roman politics in Greece / Sviatoslav Dmitriev. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-19-537518-3 1. Greece—Politics and government—To 146 B.C. 2. Rhetoric—Political aspects—Greece. 3. Liberty—Greece—History. 4. Rome—Foreign relations—Greece. 5. Greece—Foreign relations—Rome. 6. Rome—Politics and government—265-30 B.C. I. Title. DF82.D56 2010 938—dc22 2009053923

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 21 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

Patri Carissimo Septuagenario

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Contents Acknowledgments Abbreviations Introduction

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part o ne | t he s logan of f reedom from the p eloponnesian w ar to the c oming of r ome 1. From the Peloponnesian War to the Enthronement of Philip II of Macedonia 15 2. The Macedonian Peace of Philip II and Alexander the Great 67 3. The Slogan of Freedom under and after the Successors 112 part t wo | e arly r oman p olitics in g reece 4. Rome and the Greeks from 229 to the Declaration of Flamininus 145 5. The Origin of the Roman Slogan of Greek Freedom 166 6. The Roman Slogan of Greek Freedom against Nabis and Antiochos III 200 part t hree | t he a ftermath: f rom the d efeat of a ntiochos iii to the d estruction of c orinth 7. Roman Policy in Greece and Asia Minor 227 8. Rhodes between Rome and Perseus 283 9. The Downfall of the Achaean League and Polybios’s History 313

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Contents

Epilogue: The Slogan of Freedom from the King’s Peace to the Pax Romana 351 Appendix 1. The End of the Theban Affiliation with the Second Athenian Confederacy 381 Appendix 2. Sparta’s Alleged Participation in the Athens Peace 391 Appendix 3. The “Peace of 367” (the Peace of Pelopidas) and Diodoros 399 Appendix 4. The Content of the King’s Peace and the “Territorial Clause” 407 Appendix 5. Philip’s Leadership of the Thessalians 411 Appendix 6. Demosthenes’s Macedonian Diplomacy in the Reign of Alexander 421 Appendix 7. Alexander’s Treatment of Individual Cities in Asia Minor 427 Appendix 8. The Expeditions of Heracleides and Dicaearchos 433 Appendix 9. Fides and (Roman and Foreign) Clientelae 437 Select Bibliography 445 Index of Inscriptions, Papyri, and Coins 467 Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 475 Index of Names and Subjects 499

Acknowledgments

i C hristopher P. J ones, Kent J. Rigsby, and Andrew Erskine were graciously eager to help my work on this project, as was Barbara M. Levick, an old friend whose letters have always been lessons in more than just ancient history. Oxford University Press has kindly accepted the manuscript for publication, and its friendly staff saw it through the production stage with the utmost courteous professionalism. This book is dedicated to my father Victor N. Dmitriev.

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Abbreviations

i w ith minor deviations to avoid possible confusion, abbreviations will abide by those accepted in the following editions. For works of ancient authors: Oxford Classical Dictionary (OCD), 3rd ed. (1996); for epigraphic publications: Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum (SEG); for papyrology: Checklist of Editions of Greek, Latin, Demotic, and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca, and Tablets, 5th ed. (2001). For modern journals, series, reference works, and multivolume publications, see AC Ager, Arbitrations

AHB AJA AJAH AJP AM ANRW BCH BICS Bull.ép. xi

L’Antiquité classique Sheila L. Ager, Interstate Arbitrations in the Greek World, 337-90 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996). Ancient History Bulletin American Journal of Archaeology American Journal of Ancient History American Journal of Philology Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Athenische Abteilung Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt Bulletin de correspondance hellénique Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Bulletin épigraphique (published annually in RÉG)

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Abbreviations

CAH C&M CP CQ EA GRBS HM

Holleaux, Études HSCP HZ JHS JJP JÖAI JRS LH MH NC NPauly OCD3

PCPS PP R&O

RE RÉ A RÉG RFIC RhM RIC

Cambridge Ancient History Classica et mediaevalia Classical Philology Classical Quarterly Epigraphica Anatolica Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies History of Macedonia, vol. 2, ed. Nicholas G. L. Hammond and Guy T. Griffith; vol. 3, ed. Nicholas G. L. Hammond and Frank W. Walbank (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1979–1988). Maurice Holleaux, Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques, 6 vols, ed. Louis Robert (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1938–1968). Harvard Studies in Classical Philology Historische Zeitschrift Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Juristic Papyrology Jahreshefte des Österreichischen Archäologischen Institutes in Wien Journal of Roman Studies H. H. Schmitt and E. Vogt, eds., Lexikon des Hellenismus (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2005). Museum Helveticum Numismatic Chronicle Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike Simon Hornblower and Antony Spawforth, eds., The Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3rd ed. (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1996). Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society Past & Present Peter J. Rhodes and Robin Osborne, eds., Greek Historical Inscriptions: 404–323 b.c. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft Revue des études anciennes Revue des études grecques Rivista di filologia e di istruzione classica Rheinisches Museum für Philologie The Roman Imperial Coinage, by Carol H. V. Sutherland and Robert A. G. Carson, vol. 1, rev. ed., C. H. V. Sutherland (1984);

Abbreviations

RIDA RPh Robert, OMS SCI SCO Sherk, Documents SO Staatsverträge TAPA ZPE ZRG

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vols. 2 and 3, ed. Harold Mattingly and Edward A. Sydenham (1926-1930) (London: Spink and Son). Revue internationale des droits de l’antiquité Revue de philologie, de littérature et d’histoire anciennes Louis Robert, Opera Minora Selecta, 7 vols. (Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1969–1990). Scripta classica israelica Studi classici e orientali Robert K. Sherk, Roman Documents from the Greek East (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969). Symbolae Osloenses Die Staatsverträge des Altertums, vol. 2, ed. Hermann Bengtson; vol. 3, ed. Hatto H. Schmitt (Munich: Beck, 1960–1969). Transactions of the American Philological Association Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte. Romanistische Abteilung

English translations of ancient texts come mostly from the Loeb Classical Library (with occasional modifications), unless noted otherwise.

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t he g reek s logan of f reedom and e arly r oman p olitics in g reece

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Introduction

i Nothing is better for the Greeks than freedom. In the spring of 196 b.c., speaking before the Greek audience attending a major sporting competition near the city of Corinth, the Roman general Titus Q. Flamininus declared the Greeks to be free and independent. His words caused an outburst of emotions: Plutarch, the later biographer of Flamininus, even said that the crows that were flying over the stadium dropped to the ground, dead, because of the noise of shouting and applause. This declaration of Greek freedom by Flamininus, which will receive a detailed examination later, best illustrates the appropriation of Greek diplomatic practices and vocabulary by the Romans, who were foreigners and, for many Greeks even centuries later, “barbarians.” If the Roman legions were instrumental in conquering new territories and peoples, it was diplomacy that helped the Romans to retain them. The success of the Roman diplomacy depended on the ability of the Romans to understand and use local practices, vocabulary, and traditions. The Greek audience reacted so positively to the declaration of Flamininus not just because he was speaking Greek, but primarily because his declaration used the concepts of “freedom” and “autonomy,” which were familiar to them, and they thus

1. I.Priene 19.18–20 (decree by phrouroi in Teloneia for phrourarchos Helicon, late third century b.c.?).

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immediately understood his message. However, it had taken the Greeks centuries to develop these practices and vocabulary. Such words as “freedom” (a traditional modern translation of Greek eleutheria) and “autonomy” (this is how Greek autonomia is habitually rendered) have been attested in Greek texts from the fifth century b.c. Later generations in ancient Greece borrowed not only the concepts created and refined by their forefathers but also the means and ways in which these concepts were used. The Romans did the same, eventually coming to employ Greek political terms and practices to promote their own interests in Greece. One of the main tasks of this book is to delineate the appearance and development of the Greek slogan of freedom, as well as several other political concepts that emerged— or happened to be used—together with it. The other main task is, consequently, to examine the ways in which the terminology and practices were employed by the Greeks and later the Romans, after they became engaged in Greek affairs in 229 b.c. This examination covers a period of about 300 years: from the time preceding the start of the Peloponnesian war (431–404) to the Roman demolition of the last remaining major Greek military alliance (the Achaean League), which culminated in the destruction of Corinth by the Romans in 146. As an event that engaged the entire Greek world in the same military and political activity for the first time, the Peloponnesian war brought panhellenic diplomacy to life. At that time, “autonomy” and “freedom” were used almost exclusively as political slogans by the two major parties in the conflict. Following the Peloponnesian war, these words became established terms that defined the relations between Greek political entities. In particular, “autonomy” and “freedom” were now declared objectives of treaties of peace that not only concerned the signatories of such treaties and their allies but extended to all other Greeks as well: the signatories pledged to protect the status—that is, autonomy and freedom—of all Greeks, thus putting a check on each other’s ambitions. Hence, on this and later pages such treaties are referred to as “Peace,” starting with the famous King’s Peace of 386, thus distinguishing them from “regular” treaties of peace that were valid only for the contracting parties and those that became subscribed to such agreements. As the number of cities participating in treaties of peace was growing over the course of the fourth 2. The panhellenization of Greek politics in connection with the Peloponnesian war: V. Martin, La vie internationale dans la Grèce des cités: VI–IV s. av. J.-C. (Paris: Recueil Sirey, 1940), 484–486; M. B. Sakellariou, “Panhellenism: From Concept to Policy,” in Philip of Macedon, ed. M. B. Hatzopoulos and L. D. Loukopoulos (Athens: Ekdotike Athenon S. A, 1980), 129; R. A. Billows, Antigonos the One-Eyed and the Creation of the Hellenistic State (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), 190. Certainly, the idea of panhellenism developed earlier than that: G. Dobesch, Der Panhellenische Gedanke im 4. Jh. v.Chr. und der “Philippos” des Isokrates (Baden bei Wien: im Selbstverlag, 1968), 3–14; G. Wirth, Philipp II (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1985), 97–99; C. Morgan, in Greek Sanctuaries: New Approaches, ed. N. Marinatos and R. Hägg (London: Routledge, 1993), 18–44; L. Mitchell, Panhellenism and the Barbarian in Archaic and Classical Greece (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2007), xv, xviii, xxi.

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century, these treaties would eventually include almost all Greek cities. Such treaties, therefore, turned into “common peace,” which was valid for Greece in its entirety, by both protecting the freedom of their participants and declaring the freedom of all Greeks in general. By then, both groups were composed of the same cities, as was demonstrated best by the Macedonian Peace of Philip II and his son Alexander III (the Great). The next major development in this field would be the use of the concepts of “freedom” and “autonomy” by Macedonian and Hellenistic rulers, when establishing the status of individual Greek cities that lay within the borders of their domains, in return for these cities’ loyalty. This practice was documented later in the fourth century and made up an important part of Hellenistic politics before the establishment of Roman control over Greece. The Romans also came to use the slogan of freedom in many ways, depending on the tasks they were faced with in Greece at any given time. These could range from securing a place for Rome in Greek affairs to justifying a military campaign against some Greek power to establishing relations with individual Greek cities. As the Romans adjusted to the realities of Greek politics, Rome’s own political practices and language also became modified. This initial phase in the Roman-Greek relationship ended with the establishment of direct Roman domination, which has generally been connected with the destruction of Corinth by the Romans in 146. The present book is not intended, however, as only a political or military history of Greece during these three centuries: many developments in this time, as well as their corresponding modern treatments, have been compressed or omitted if they did not contribute in any meaningful way to our understanding of the ways in which the Greek slogan of freedom developed and came to be used. Nor is this book merely a study in political terminology, even though such a study would be welcome: although relevant modern works have dealt with these problems in some detail, they have generally passed over the many ways in which Greeks used the slogan of freedom in the fifth and, especially, the fourth century. The scope of this book has been limited for the purpose of advancing a better vision of the development of many attributes and nuances of Greek politics and political vocabulary, which were then appropriated, transformed, and applied by the Romans. The main

3. E.g., K. Raaflaub, “Zum Freiheitsbegriff der Griechen: Materialen und Unetrsuchungen zur Bedeutungsentwicklung von ἐλεύθερος/ἐλευθερία in der archaischen und klassischen Zeit,” in Soziale Typenbegriffe in alten Griechenland und ihr Fortleben in den Sprachen der Welt, ed. E. C. Welskopf (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1981), 180–405; M. Ostwald, Autonomia: Its Genesis and Early History (Chico: Scholars Press, 1982); E. Lévy, “Autonomia et éleuthéria au Ve siècle,” RPh 57 (1983): 249–270; A. B. Bosworth, “Autonomia: The Use and Abuse of Political Terminology,” Studi italiani di filologia classica, ser. 3, 10 (1992): 122–152; K. Raaflaub, The Discovery of Freedom in Ancient Greece (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 149–160.

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goals of this book have correspondingly molded its organization and structure: it starts in the pre-Roman period, with the first part focusing on the concepts of “freedom” and “autonomy,” as they were refined in the course of the Peloponnesian war and as they developed further during its aftermath in the fourth century, taking the form of a series of treaties of Peace, before being employed by Philip and Alexander as well as their successors in what we call the Hellenistic period. The second and third parts deal with the ways in which the Romans appropriated and used these concepts and practices, which would eventually lead to the foundation of the new political order, or the pax Romana, in the Mediterranean world. Whereas the development of the Greek slogan of freedom and its many uses by the Greeks and, later, by the Romans have never become the subject of a special examination, specific aspects of these problems have attracted significant attention. One of them has been the ways in which the words “freedom” and “autonomy” helped the Greeks to define the status of individual cities as “free” or “subject.” The majority opinion has connected “autonomy” with a city’s sovereignty in its political, legal, and social life. References to ancient sources, both Greek and Roman, have presented “autonomy” as, first and foremost, the right of a city to use its own laws, whereas “freedom” in ancient Greece has generally been interpreted as the city’s independence of external domination. This is also how the “freedom” of individual cities under the empire would be understood. Both words, therefore, allegedly designated

4. E.g., E. Bikerman, Institutions des Séleucides (Paris: P. Geuthner, 1938), 133–156; C. B. Welles, “Greek Liberty,” JJP 15 (1965): 29–47; Holleaux, Études, 3:152–153; C. Wehrli, Antigone et Demetrios (Geneva: Droz, 1968), 104; R. Bernhardt, “Imperium und Eleutheria: Die römische Politik gegenüber den freien Städten des griechischen Ostens” (diss., Hamburg, 1971), 8; A. Manzmann, “Αὐτονομία,” in KlPauly 1 (1979): 782; A. B. Bosworth, “Alexander the Great: Part 2,” in CAH2 6 (1994): 868; M. H. Hansen, “The ‘Autonomous City-State’: Ancient Fact or Modern Fiction,” in Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis, ed. M. H. Hansen and K. Raaflaub (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1995), 43; S. Hornblower, “Autonomy,” in OCD3, 224; P. J. Rhodes, “Autonomia,” in NPauly 2 (1997): 360–361; K. Raaflaub, “Freiheit,” in NPauly 4 (1998): 651. 5. E.g., Cic. Ad Att. 6.2.4; Bekker, Anecd. I, p. 466. 6. S. Accame, Il dominio romano in Grecia (Rome: Signorelli, 1946), 21; M. Amit, Great and Small Poleis: A Study in the Relations between the Great Powers and the Small Cities in Ancient Greece (Brussels: Latomus, 1973), 39; A. Mastrocinque, “L’eleutheria e le città ellenistiche,” Atti dell’ Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Cl. di scienze morali, lettere ed arti 135 (1976–1977): 9, 11; D. Musti, Polibio e l’imperialismo romano (Naples: Liguori, 1978), 133 n. 5; D. Musti, “Città ellenistiche e imperium,” Mediterraneo antico 2 (1999): 454; T. Pistorius, Hegemoniestreben und Autonomiesicherung in der griechischen Vertragspolitik klassischer und hellenistischer Zeit (Frankfurt a. M.; New York: Lang, 1985), 158–161; Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 123–126; M. Domitilla Campanile, in I Greci: Storia, cultura, arte, società, ed. S. Settis, vol. 2, pt. 3 (Turin: Einaudi, 1998), 383; M. Sordi, “Panellenismo e ‘koine eirene,’” in ibid., 8; S. Ziesmann, Autonomie und Münzprägung in Griechenland und Kleinasien in der Zeit Philipps II. und Alexanders des Grossen (Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2005), 13–14, 16, and 17–22 (with an overview of bibliography). 7. See preceding note and Billows, Antigonos, 194–196; B. Virgilio, Lancia, Diadema e Porpora: Il re e la regalità ellenistica (Pisa: Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali, 1999), 18. 8. E.g., Procul. Dig. 49.15.7.1.

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“freedom to do something” and “freedom from being obliged to do something,” or the positive and negative aspects of freedom. For this reason, and because ancient texts often present the meanings of “freedom” and “autonomy” as very close, the conclusion has either been that the status of a free city was defined by using both “autonomy” and “freedom” together, or that these words were interchangeable. However, a question then arises about why both words continued to be used even into the Roman period. An important observation has been that the meanings of these words could change over time. As we shall see later, the transformation in the meaning of “freedom” not only provoked a corresponding change in the meaning of “autonomy” but also created a complex interrelationship between these two concepts, making it possible to connect them in more than one way. Hence the rise of new problems, such as, for example, whether “freedom” defined the status of a city as a whole or only represented one of its components. A debate has thus been waged about whether various rights, or “freedoms,” of a city, which were mentioned alongside this city’s freedom, only spelled out the corresponding privileges or whether they had been granted in addition to freedom. Some argued, therefore, that references to immunity together with “freedom” merely clarified the content of the latter, whereas for others “freedom” by itself did not offer the right of immunity that had to be mentioned separately and in addition to “freedom.” Among other things, such evidence also raises a question about whether Rome changed her approach to the status of individual cities after she got involved with the

9. Cf. Th. Mommsen, Römisches Staatsrecht3 (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1887–1888), 3:658; D. Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1950), 57; W. Orth, Königlicher Machtanspruch und städtische Freiheit (Munich: Beck, 1977), 4. 10. Mastrocinque, “L’eleutheria,” 3, 12–13; H. Beck, Polis und Koinon: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und Struktur der griechischen Bundesstaaten im 4. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1997), 236–238. 11. E.g., G. Busolt, Der Zweite Athenische Bund und die auf der Autonomie beruhende, hellenische Politik von der Schlacht bei Knidos bis zum Frieden des Eubulos (Leipzig: Teubner, 1874), 645, 698; Orth, Machtanspruch, 4–5; Lévy, “Autonomia,” 256–270; Pistorius, Hegemoniestreben, 165–166, 175; Raaflaub, “Freiheitsbegriff,” 322–324. 12. M. I. Rostovtzeff, The Social and Economic History of the Hellenistic World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1941), 525; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 6; Th. Figueira, “Autonomoi kata tas spondas (Thucydides 1.67.2),” BICS 37 (1990): 64–67, 85; K. Nawotka, “Freedom of Greek Cities in Asia Minor in the Age of Alexander the Great,” Klio 85 (2003): 18. 13. E.g., Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 4–10; Hansen, “The ‘Autonomous City-State,’” 36–51, 43. 14. E.g., J. Ma, Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 161–162. 15. E.g., Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30–34, 112 n. 122; R. Bernhardt, “Die Immunitas der Freistädte,” Historia 29 (1980): 190–207; Bernhardt, “Entstehung, immunitas und munera der Freistädte: Ein kritischer Überblick,” Mediterraneo antico 2 (1999): 55–58.

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Greeks, and, if the answer is positive, a further question arises about the date of this change. The latter question has received two answers: either in the mid-third century, in connection with the First Punic war (relying on the evidence we have about Roman dealings with Greek cities in southern Italy and Sicily), or only after 229. The complexity of this problem is further aggravated by the fact that such debates leave the relevant Greek evidence from the pre-Roman period out of the picture and therefore ignore the original development of the concept of the status of Greek cities in general, and of “freedom” as one of its components in particular. Hence, when these works probe the Roman approach to the freedom of individual Greek cities, they present the status of such cities as something that had been established once and for all time by the Greeks, but as not clearly defined, even in the early provincial period, by the Romans. Another major area of research, where the concept of freedom has received an extensive treatment, is the use of the slogan of freedom in 196 by Titus Quinctius Flamininus, the winner in the Second Macedonian war against Philip V, and by other Romans thereafter. This important aspect of Roman politics in Greece has been elucidated differently: some have explained this new stance by the gradual Roman understanding of “the power of Greek public opinion”; others pointed to the immediate political benefits that Rome could have received from acknowledging the freedom of the Greeks and claiming their support in return; yet others spoke of a conscious Roman policy of Greek freedom, going as far as advocating the existence of a Roman “principle of freedom.” These views, which all have some truth behind them, still leave many questions unanswered. For example, why did it take the Romans thirty years to understand the importance of

16. For an overview of this debate, see Bernhardt, “Entstehung,” 54–55. 17. E.g., J.-L. Ferrary, “La liberté des cités et ses limites à l’époque républicaine,” Mediterraneo antico 2.1 (1999): 78. 18. E.g., E. Badian, Roman Imperialism in the Late Republic2 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1968), 10. 19. E.g., A. Aymard, Les premiers rapports de Rome et de la Confédération achaienne, 198–189 av. J.-C. (Paris: Féret & fils, 1938), 277; Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 53–54; Magie, Rule, 104–105; M.-L. Heidemann, “Die Freiheitsparole in der Griechisch-Römischen Auseinandersetzung (200–188 v.Chr.)” (diss., Bonn, 1966), 36; F. Quass, Die Honoratiorenschicht in den Städten des griechischen Ostens: Untersuchungen zur politischen und sozialen Entwicklung in hellenistischer und römischer Zeit (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993), 125; M. Crawford, The Roman Republic2 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1993), 70; J. Briscoe, “Flamininus and Roman Politics, 200–189 b.c.,” Latomus 31 (1972): 45. 20. E.g., K.-E. Petzold, Die Eröffnung des Zweiten Römisch-Makedonischen Krieges: Untersuchungen zur spätannalistischen Topik bei Livius (Berlin: Junker und Dünnhaupt, 1940), 41 n. 54; J.-L. Ferrary, Philhellénisme et impérialisme: Aspects idéologiques de la conquête romaine du monde hellénistique, de la seconde guerre de Macédoine à la guerre contre Mithridate (Rome: École française de Rome, 1988), 99; E. W. Carawan, “Graecia Liberata and the Role of Flamininus in Livy’s Fourth Decade,” TAPA 118 (1988): 237.

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Greek public opinion? Why did they start courting Greek public opinion only after defeating Philip V and establishing themselves as the leading power in mainland Greece? And why only at that time did the Romans allegedly declare the “principle of Greek freedom,” thus both tying their own hands in Greek politics and demonstrating that they had no intention of keeping to this “principle” in the future? Finally, from where did this slogan come to the Romans, and why did they decide to use it in their policy toward the Greeks? The latter question concerns yet another problem, namely, that of the interrelationship between the meaning of “freedom” in general proclamations of freedom, such as that of Flamininus, and in Roman dealings with individual Greek cities that secured “freedom” from Rome as part of their status. Whereas general declarations of Greek freedom by the Romans quickly went out of use, “freedom” as a component of the status of individual Greek cities survived well into the imperial period. What made it possible for Rome to retain the latter use of “freedom” in her dealings with the Greeks? These questions can be answered only on the basis of our knowledge about the history behind the slogan of freedom before the coming of the Romans. However, because the use of this slogan by the Romans has always been explored only within the context of early Roman politics in Greece, such investigations only sporadically venture into the time before 229. This limited approach explains why the employment of the slogan of freedom by the Romans has traditionally been treated indiscriminately, without paying attention to the many attributes of this slogan and the many ways it was used, all of which developed in the pre-Roman period and were then borrowed by the Romans. For example, the general declaration of Greek freedom by Flamininus in 196 has been paired with the granting of the status of a free city to Heraclea by Latmus by the two Scipio brothers in 189, although the context and significance of these events were markedly different. Further attempts to rationalize the use of the slogan of freedom by the Romans have been similarly questionable, including presenting Flamininus’s declaration of Greek freedom in 196 as having been modeled on the declaration of Greek freedom that was issued on behalf of the Hellenic League of Philip V in 220.

21. The letter of the Scipio brothers to Heraclea by Latmus: Syll.3 618 (= Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15. This opinion: e.g., A. Heuss, Die Völkerrechtlichen Grundlagen der römischen Aussenpolitik in republikanischer Zeit (Leipzig: Dieterich, 1933), 95–98 (who put together several such episodes); E. Badian, Foreign Clientelae: 264–70 b.c. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1958), 88; Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 39. 22. The declaration of the Hellenic League: Polyb. 4.25.6–7. This opinion: Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 83–88; Crawford, Republic2, 64, 67; J. J. Walsh, “Flamininus and the Propaganda of Liberation,” Historia 45 (1996): 358.

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Such “parallels” have been offered to demonstrate that the Roman use of the slogan of freedom was rooted in Greek political tradition. However, although the idea about the Greek origin of the slogan of freedom is certainly correct, this evidence can hardly substantiate it: the declaration of the Hellenic League was issued to justify Philip’s forthcoming military campaign as if on behalf of those Greeks who had lost their freedom or were in danger of losing it, whereas Flamininus’s declaration formed a part of the postwar settlement, serving to maintain the military and political status quo in mainland Greece and western Asia Minor. Each of these declarations, therefore, was employing the slogan of freedom in a special way and for a specific purpose, which does not allow us to put them together or directly to trace the second to the first. This and other such cases reemphasize the importance of establishing the background of using the slogan of freedom in pre-Roman Greece, before examining its use by the Romans in the second century b.c. Other relevant issues have received less attention in modern historiography, including the use of “freedom” and “autonomy” in the Peloponnesian war and the application of the slogan of freedom in the power struggle during the late Republican period. Most disturbingly, however, even when they happen to be identified in modern works, these issues are examined separately, with only the slightest, if any, connection made to the general problem of the appearance and development of such concepts and their use by both the Greeks and the Romans. The same approach has characterized modern treatments of various aspects of the interrelationship between the Greeks and the Romans. The most comprehensive synthesis that exists today regarding the earliest phase of interaction between the Romans and the Hellenistic world goes into detail on Greek expectations and (political, cultural, and intellectual) reactions to the establishment of Roman domination, but it offers no indication of how the Romans came to appropriate and use Greek political vocabulary and practices. The most up-to-date, thorough examination of the possible influences of Greek philosophical and political ideas on Roman politics in Greece has been limited to the period from the Second Macedonian war to the Mithridatic wars, thus largely focusing on the second century and leaving the origins and early development of the slogan of freedom out of the picture. The

23. E. S. Gruen, The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1984), 316–356, 437–528, 731–744. 24. Ferrary, Philhellénisme. On Greek philosophical ideas as influencing and accommodating Roman military expansion in Greece: H. Volkmann, “Griechische Rhetorik oder römische Politik? Bemerkungen zum römischen ‘Imperialismus,’” Hermes 82 (1954): 465–476; K.-E. Petzold, “Griechischer Einfluss auf die Anfänge römischer Ostpolitik,” Historia 41 (1992): 212 (on the Greek origin of the Roman “policy of freedom”). All such discussions, however, covered only the Roman period.

Introduction

j 11

most detailed analysis, to date, on the establishment of Roman control in the Greek East not only has even narrower chronological limits (from the Achaean war to the war against Mithridates) but also neither does nor does it intend to explore the Roman political and administrative settlement of Greece and Asia Minor as being affected by Greek political practices and vocabulary. The general picture of the development of the slogan of freedom, and of the many ways in which it came to be used, is therefore missing. This situation has had a negative effect on the modern vision of Greek political history, in particular concerning the consistency of Greek politics from classical times to the Roman period; and of Roman history, including many aspects of Roman politics in Greece; and, finally, of various sides of the interrelationship between the Greeks and the Romans after 229, such as the Greeks’ resistance to Rome and the adjustment of Roman political practices and vocabulary to Greek realities. Hence, for example, no common ground exists for explaining the need for the treaties of Peace in the fourth century or for establishing a connection between Alexander’s policy toward Greek cities and that of his Hellenistic successors. For the same reason, traditional approaches to the Greco-Roman relationship during its first hundred years appear to have been not only one-sided but also, at times, incomprehensible. It is simply impossible, for instance, to understand and rationalize the position of Antiochos III in the early second century, or the stance of Rhodes during the Third Macedonian war, or the behavior of the leaders of the Achaean League in the 140s without seeing them all as being based on the principles of Greek politics, which had developed in the pre-Roman period. Greek politics, including the use of the slogan of “freedom,” represented a continuum from the fifth until at least the mid-second century, that is, when, following the destruction of Corinth, Roman domination over the Greek world became obvious and unchallenged. This is the premise from which we should examine the attitudes of the Greeks to Roman expansion and the transformation of Roman political practices and terminology after Rome became involved in Greek politics. This examination, therefore, will start with the appearance of panhellenic politics in Greece in the fifth century, which led to the emergence of “freedom” as a political concept.

25. R. M. Kallet-Marx, Hegemony to Empire: The Development of the Roman Imperium in the East from 148 to 62 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995).

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p art o ne The Slogan of Freedom from the Peloponnesian War to the Coming of Rome i by the time the Romans became involved in Greek affairs, which is usually dated to and connected with the beginning of the First Illyrian war (229 b.c.), the development of panhellenic political practices and terminology, including the slogan of freedom, had already become quite advanced. This development came in stages covering almost two hundred years.

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1 From the Peloponnesian War to the Enthronement of Philip II of Macedonia

i According to the “speech of Brasidas,” the freedom (eleutheria) of Greece was the original reason declared by the Spartans for starting the Peloponnesian war against the Athenians. Another ancient text confirms this view: in the words of Xenophon, tearing down the walls of Athens at the end of the war was presented by Sparta, and considered by many in Greece, as the beginning of Greek freedom. The advancement of panhellenic politics, which emerged during the Persian wars and significantly accelerated as a result of the whole of Greece participating in one way or another in the Peloponnesian war, brought about the further development of panhellenic diplomatic vocabulary and practices.

1. Thuc. 4.85.1–4.87.6; with 2.8.4, 3.32.2, 3.59.4. D. M. Lewis, Sparta and Persia: Lectures Delivered at the University of Cincinnati, Autumn 1976, in Memory of D. W. Bradeen (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 65. 2. Xen. Hellen. 2.2.23. The importance of the Persian wars for the development of panhellenism: e.g., J. Hall, Ethnic Identity in Greek Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 47–48; J. Hall, Hellenicity: Between Ethnicity and Culture (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 175–189; F. Pownall, in Alexander’s Empire: Formulation to Decay, ed. W. Heckel et al.: (Claremont, Calif.: Regina Books, 2007), 13–25.

15

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t he “ a utonomy c lause” and the s logan of f reedom The Spartans had already used the concept of autonomy with respect to individual Greek cities, as seen in the treaties from the fifth century We need to distinguish this practice from securing the autonomy of Greek cities by the Greeks in their conflicts against the Persians. During the negotiations preceding the Peloponnesian war, the Spartans demanded that the Athenians leave Potidaea and give autonomy to Aegina and, finally, said that they would make peace with Athens only if the Athenians gave the Greeks their autonomy. Pericles agreed to this, provided Sparta gave autonomia to her allies as well. “The Greeks” in the Spartan ultimatum are thought to have designated Athenian allies, whereas the nature of autonomia has been debated. Some suggested that there was not much difference between eleutheria and autonomia at that time, and that the Spartans and the Athenians had different understandings of autonomia; the former opinion has recently been extended to the fourth century. According to Thucydides, the Aeginetans claimed that Athens did not allow them to be “autonomous” in accordance with the treaty (autonomoi kata tas spondas). But a proposal that the Thirty Years peace treaty (446–445) had “some general clause” providing for “the autonomy of the allies on both sides” has ended

3. G. L. Cawkwell, “The Foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy,” CQ, n.s., 23 (1973): 52; E. Badian, “The King’s Peace,” in Georgica: Greek Studies in Honour of G. Cawkwell, ed. M. A. Flower and M. Toher (London: University of London, Institute of Classical Studies, 1991), 35–36; F. Quass, “Der Königsfriede vom Jahr 387/386 v. Chr.: Zur Problematik einer allgemeinen-griechischen Friedensordnung,” HZ 252 (1991): 44–46, 50–51; M. Jehne, Koine Eirene: Untersuchungen zu den Befriedungs- und Stabilisierungsbemühungen in der Griechischen Poliswelt des 4. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1994), 31–32, 43 n. 75, 269–270. 4. F. Nolte, Die historisch-politischen Voraussetzungen des Königsfriedens von 386 v. Chr. (Bamberg: Universität Frankfurt am Main, 1923), 9–10; L. Thommen, Lakedaimonion Politeia: Die Enstehung der spartanischen Verfassung (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1996), 137–141. 5. E.g., Diod. 12.4.5 (the autonomy of the Ionian cities, 449 b.c.). 6. Esp. Raaflaub, Discovery, 193–202 (“Sparta’s Freedom Propaganda”). 7. Thuc. 1.67.2, 1.139.1–3, 1.144.2. See in general Staatsverträge 2, no. 156. 8. E. J. Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA: Sur un passage de Thucydide (1,114,2),” RIDA, 3rd ser., 5 (1958): 319. 9. See in S. Hornblower, A Commentary on Thucydides (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 1:109–110. 10. E.g., Figueira, “Autonomoi,” 63–88; L. A. Tritle, A New History of the Peloponnesian War (Malden and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 32; see D. Musti, in RFIC, n.s., 128 (2000): 176–177. 11. Thuc. 1.47.2. 12. This date: Paus. 5.23.4; Thuc. 1.115.1–2. 446: Hornblower, Commentary, 1:109. 446–445: P. J. Rhodes, in CAH 5 (1992): 51, 54 (with the Chronological Table: p. 508). 445: E. Badian, From Plataea to Potideaea: Studies in the History and Historiography of the Pentecontaetia (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993), 137.

From the Peloponnesian War to the Enthronement of Philip II of Macedonia j 17

up with the conclusion that “the question is best left open.” Nor has a recent attempt to replace a “‘minimalist’ interpretation” of the reference to the autonomy of Aegina with a “general autonomy clause” been successful either. It is a matter of fact that Thucydides “not only fails to mention an autonomy clause when reporting the conclusion of the [Thirty Years peace] treaty, but he does not vouchsafe us any statement of the nature or extent of this clause.” The expression autonomoi kata tas spondas has received extensive treatment. Its significance, however, was undermined by the lack of historical context. Yet historical parallels are right at hand: for example, the so-called charter of the Second Athenian Confederacy proclaimed the right of Athenian allies to keep their same status and rights in the 370s, and the Hellenic League of Philip II, which emerged in the early 330s, had a similar clause that protected the status of Macedonian allies, keeping it the same as it had been at the moment they joined the alliance. The same should have been the case for Aegina: she was an ally whose status was claimed to have been damaged, in spite of the guarantees provided in her treaty with Athens. Every other argument for the presence of a “general autonomy clause” in the Thirty Years peace treaty likewise turns out to be no more than a learned guess: neither the evidence about Potidaea nor that about Samos, nor any other that we have (such as the words of Pericles), supports the presence of a “general autonomy clause” in this peace treaty. The people of Potidaea responded to the threat from Athens by opening negotiations with the Athenians and, at the same time, sending ambassadors to Sparta to explain the situation and request Spartan military help. The Spartans then warned Athens against attacking Potidaea, which reflected Sparta’s natural reaction to Potidaea’s request. All this diplomatic activity would 13. G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, The Origins of the Peloponnesian War (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1972), 293–294. 14. Badian, Plataea, 137–142. See Hornblower, Commentary, 1:109–110. 15. Badian, Plataea, 137. 16. Thuc. 1.67.2. See Figueira, “Autonomoi,” 63–88, and also a still very useful discussion by Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 38–40. 17. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = P. Brun, Impérialisme et démocratie à Athènes: Inscriptions de l’époque classique: c.500–317 av. J.-C. [Paris: Colin, 2005], no. 46).15–25 (see n. 158 below). 18. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = S. L. Ager, Interstate Arbitrations in the Greek World, 337–90 b.c. [Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996], no. 2).5–7 and 8–10 (see p. 89, n. 135, and p. 74, n. 38, respectively) and [Dem.] 17.10 (see p. 89, n. 136). 19. E.g., E. Badan, “The Peace of Callias,” JHS 107 (1987): 21 n. 38: “In addition to the standard case of Aegina, see Thuc. 1.58.1 for a Spartan promise to invade Attica if Potidaea were attacked (which prima facie implies that Sparta would regard this as a violation of the peace), and above all the striking example of Samos (see 1.40.5; 41.2; 43.1). . . . All these instances add up to a strong suggestion that there was a general clause stipulating the autonomy of certain cities (perhaps all those cities autonomous when the peace was concluded: see Pericles’s remark at 1.144.2).”

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be out of place if the “autonomy clause” had entitled the Spartans to interfere. Nor does Thucydides make any references in this episode to the Thirty Years peace treaty or the autonomia of Potidaea. Further in the text, Thucydides tells about the Spartan demand that the Athenians withdraw from Potidaea and give Aegina its autonomia. Here too he provides no indication that Potidaean autonomia was to be protected by the Spartans. Samos was mentioned in the speech of the Corinthians to the Athenian assembly: judging by what we learn from Thucydides’s text, they made it quite clear that the revolt of Samos, an Athenian ally, was not their concern because “each should discipline his own allies.” The Corinthians, therefore, had persuaded the Peloponnesians not to offer help to Samos. They now wanted Athens to repay them with the same coin, by offering neither help nor membership in the Athenian alliance to the Corcyreans. The Corinthians were arguing on the basis of the same idea that each should punish his own allies and were making it clear that this was in Athens own best interests. This also served to indicate Athens’ problems with her own allies. No reference was made to the autonomia of the Corcyreans (at least not in the text of Thucydides), and thus the whole debate again centered on the position of allies. The “general autonomy clause” has thus been “narrowed down” to Sparta’s and Athens’ allies, so that the situation returned to what it was when Bickermann proposed that the treaty of 446–445 may have protected the autonomy of allied cities, as they had at the moment when the treaty was signed. Thucydides uses both autonomia and eleutheria. As we have seen above, eleutheria was the declared slogan of the Spartans in the Peloponnesian war. However Thucydides’s text, which remains our most important source of information about this war, employs eleutheria in more than one way. This word was used as an indication of one’s personal status, such as the status of a free person, as opposed to that of a slave or a Helot; as a description of the personal freedom of action in daily life; as the freedom of a community from foreign authority; and as the

20. Thuc. 1.58.1 and 1.139.1, respectively. 21. Thuc. 1.40.5 (repeated in 1.43.1), 1.41.2. 22. Thuc. 1.43.1–4. 23. Badian, Plataea, 137–142; G. Cawkwell, The Greek Wars: The Failure of Persia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 283. Pace Tritle, A New History, 32, 37. 24. Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 321–322. 25. E.g., Thuc. 2.62.3; 2.63.1; 2.78.4; 2.103.1; 3.73.1; 4.118.7; 5.83.2; 5.99.1; 7.63.4; 8.28.4; 8.62.2; 8.73.5. 26. E.g., Thuc. 1.132.4; 4.26.5; 4.80.3; 5.34.1. 27. E.g., Thuc. 2.37.2; 2.40.5; 2.65.8; 6.57.1; 7.69.2; 8.84.2. 28. E.g., Thuc. 1.84.1 (Archidamos on Sparta); 2.36.1 (Pericles on Athens); 3.62.5 (Boeotia, after the victory of Thebes over Athens at Chaeronea), and 4.52.3; 4.64.5; 4.92.7; 4.95.3; 5.9.1; 5.112.2; 6.20.2; 6.40.2; 6.69.3; 6.76.4; 6.87.2; 6.89.6; 7.68.3; 8.45.4; 8.46.3–4; 8.52.1; 8.64.3; 8.71.1.

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freedom of Greece from oppression by the Persians (for which Sparta claimed the credit and which could be compared with the oppression of Greece by the Athenian arche or Spartan rule). When it comes to Greek politics and military engagements, Thucydides uses eleutheria in a general way; hence the theme of eleutheria receives a particular prominence in speeches found in his text. However, he defines the status of individual cities with the help of autonomia or its cognates: the Spartans declared (the restoration of) the autonomy of Athenian allies (who had it originally but lost it because of Athens) as their reason for the war. And Athenian allies are referred to as either “autonomous” or not, that is to say, “subject.” We also see this division in the speech of the Athenian Euphemus to the Sicilians: the allies of Athens are either “autonomous” (those who contribute ships for joint naval operations) or “subject” (those who are forced to pay tribute to finance such operations), and everybody else is free to join the Athenian forces of his own free will. Further in the text, Thucydides sums up the same situation, by saying that on the Athenian side “some took part in the expedition [against Sicily] as subjects, others in consequence of an alliance, although independent, and some were mercenaries.” He also makes a clear distinction between the first two groups: the “independent allies” were those who contributed ships but did not pay tribute, which is unlike all other “allies.” This division has been questioned, largely, it seems, because of doubts about whether it was observed in practice. But, first, the problem of whether Athenian allies can be distinguished into these two groups “de iure and de facto,” which has received no satisfactory solution, is not directly connected with how the Greeks understood the meaning of autonomia (which will be examined below). And, second, we also see this mode of the division of the Athenian allies in the

29. E.g., Thuc. 1.69.1; 2.71.2; 3.10.4; 3.54.4. Cf. 8.43.3. 30. E.g., Thuc. 1.69.1. Lewis, Sparta and Persia, 65 (with further references to Thucydides). 31. E.g., Thuc. 5.27.2: after Sparta made treaty with Athens, Corinth accused Sparta of enslaving the Peloponnese, with Hornblower, Commentary, 3:61. 32. E.g., Thuc. 1.69.1, 1.124.1 (the speeches of the Corinthians); 3.10–13 (the speech of the Mytilenaeans); 4.92.7 (the speech of Pagondas); 4.95.3 (the speech of Hermocrates). 33. E.g., Thuc. 1.97.1. W. Schuller, Die Herrschaft der Athener im Ersten Attischen Seebund (Berlin and New York: Gruyter, 1974), 54–55. 34. E.g., Aegina in Thuc. 1.67.2, 1.139.1. Cf. the Spartan ultimatum: Thuc. 1.139.3. 35. E.g., Thuc. 6.69.3 (Ἀργεˆι οι δὲ καὶ τῶν ξυμμάχων οἱ αὐτόνομοι). 36. Thuc. 6.85.2. E.g., G. L. Cawkwell, Thucydides and the Peloponnesian War (London and New York: Routledge, 1997), 119. 37. E.g., Thuc. 7.57.3–4, 7.57.7, with D. Blackman, in GRBS 10 (1969): 186, 193; A. French, in Historia 21 (1972): 4; P. J. Rhodes, in CAH 5 (1992): 37. 38. G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, “The Character of the Athenian Empire,” Historia 3 (1954–1955): 16–21, and de Ste. Croix, Origins, 34 n. 63, and 307 (see also p. 383, n. 13).

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time of the Second Athenian Confederacy and as late as the 350s and 340s, when some Greek cities were allies of Athens (or of Athens and the Confederacy), whereas others were members of the Confederacy itself (see Appendix 1). Finally, the “mercenaries” joined the Athenian army of their own free will, not as members of the alliance. We never encounter a reference to the autonomia of a city that was not allied with either Athens or Sparta, for the reason that autonomia was understood as the equality inside the alliance: this is what the Mytileneans told the Spartans, when explaining why Mytilene had decided to secede from Athens. And Cleon used the same approach, by referring to the Mytileneans as an “autonomous” city that was treated by Athens with respect. Later Brasidas would categorize Spartan allies as “autonomous,” thus favorably contrasting them with the allies of Athens; and once the people of Acanthus agreed to join Brasidas, they were to be treated as “autonomous allies.” Such instances show that references to autonomia, including those that speak about the loss of autonomia, could concern nobody else but allies. The Spartans, therefore, waged a war against Athens on behalf of a limited group of Athenian allies, whose autonomia, as the Spartans claimed, had been oppressed by Athens. The word autonomia, however, could also be applied in a broader sense, as, for example, (i) when the Spartans declared war for “Greece,” or “Greeks,” thus presenting the Spartan fight for autonomia in similarly broad terms as their alleged fight for Greek freedom; or (ii) when Pericles referred to the Spartans demanding autonomy for “the Greeks” from Athens, even though later in the same speech he reveals that the disagreement concerned the interests and the status of the allies on both sides; or (iii) when in 415–414, Hermocrates from Syracuse referred to his fellow citizens as having arrived from the “autonomous Peloponnese,” thus presenting the autonomy enjoyed by Spartan individual allies in the Peloponnese as the autonomy of the whole region. In these and other such cases, when the word

39. Thucydedides’s approach to the relationship among the non-Greeks seems to have been different: he opposed the “subjects,” who were obliged to participate in military campaigns, to those non-Greeks who were “independent” and, therefore, free to join these campaigns if they so wished: Thuc. 2.29.3; 2.96.1–2; 2.98.3–4; 2.101.3 (the Thracians), 6.88.4 (the Sicilians). 40. The Mytilenaeans: Thuc. 3.10.4–6; 3.11.1–3. Cleon: Thuc. 3.39.2. 41. Thuc. 4.86.1; 4.88.1. 42. As Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 328–330, 336–339; J. M. Balcer, “Miletos (IG I 22 [I 21]) and the Structures of Alliances,” in Studien zum Attischen Seebund, ed. J. M. Balcer et al. (Konstanz: Universitätsverlag Konstanz, 1984), 20–21; D. C. Gillone, “I Lacedemoni e l’autonomia degli alleati peloponnesiaci nelle Elleniche: Il caso di Mantinea,” in Il Peloponneso di Senofonte, ed. G. Rocchi and M. Cavalli (Milan: Cisalpino, 2004), 127–130. 43. Thuc. 1.140.3, 1.144.2, 6.77.1.

From the Peloponnesian War to the Enthronement of Philip II of Macedonia j 21

autonomia was used in a broad sense (especially in speeches), the meaning of this word closely resembled that of eleutheria. This is what we see in the speeches of the Corinthians and the Thebans and Gylippus, the general of the Syracusans, who all decried Athens for enslaving the Greeks; in the claim of the Syracusans to fight against Athens for the freedom of the Greeks; in the above-mentioned speech of Cleon, who referred either to the autonomia of Athenian allies or to their eleutheria once they had broken away from the Athenian alliance; and in the stance of the Spartans as liberators of Greece in the war against Athens, which they furthered by comparing the Athenian oppression of Greece to that of the Persians. In reality, such references to eleutheria appear to have concerned only allies, either those of Sparta (as when the Corinthians accused Athens of enslaving Spartan allies) or those of Athens, when the Mytilenaeans accused Athens of enslaving Athenian allies, intended to set free other Athenian allies as well, and, finally, invited Sparta to free the allies of Athens. The same conclusion follows from the speeches by Cleon and Diodotos to the Athenian assembly and by Brasidas, who spoke of allies of Sparta as “free” and those of Athens as “slaves.” Reading the text of Thucydides, therefore, leads to the three following observations. First, before and during the Peloponnesian war, autonomia defined the status of individual communities allied to either Athens or Sparta, as some have already observed. Distant echoes of this situation can be heard in later times. For example, the debate between Agesilaos and Epaminondas, before the conclusion of the Sparta Peace of 371, focused on the status of the allies of Sparta and Thebes. Whereas Plutarch speaks of this debate as one about the autonomy of “Boeotia” and “Sparta,” Pausanias presents it as demands for the allies of the other side to swear individually to the treaty of Peace. Neither Agesilaos nor Epaminondas formally undermined the right of the other party to have its own alliance, but they claimed autonomy for its individual members, which broke down the military efficiency of these alliances. In a similar case that happened later, members of Philip’s

44. The Corinthians: e.g., Thuc. 1.69.1; 1.124.1, 3. The Thebans: e.g., Thuc. 3.63.3. Gylippus: Thuc. 7.66.2. 45. E.g., Thuc. 7.56.2. 46. E.g., Thuc. 3.39.2 and 7. 47. E.g., Thuc. 2.8.4; 2.72.1; 3.32.2; 3.59.4. The claims of Brasidas: Thuc. 5.9.9 and n. 66 below. 48. E.g., Thuc. 1.69.1; 6.76.4. 49. Thuc. 1.69.1. 50. Thuc. 3.10.4, 3.13.1, 3.13.7. 51. Thuc. 3.39.7, 3.46.5–6, 5.9.9. 52. E.g., Thuc. 2.63.3; 6.85.1; 8.21.1; 8.91.3. H. Nesselhauf, “Die Diplomatische Verhandlungen vor dem Peloponnesischen Kriege,” Hermes 69 (1934): 287, 292; Figueira, “Autonomoi,” 63–64, 86–88. 53. Plut. Ages. 28.1–2; Paus. 9.13.2. See also nn. 219 and 222 below.

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League of Corinth were supposed to retain the same internal organization and political régimes that they had when they joined this League. The reason for such stipulations was an understandable fear that a city’s membership in a military alliance would lead to that city’s loss of autonomia. Second, since autonomia was exclusively concerned with allies, the Thirty Years peace treaty did not have a general “autonomy clause”: this treaty only provided autonomia for individual cities that were allies on either side. As limited as it is, the evidence at our disposal leaves no doubt that the Thirty Years peace established political stability in Greece not by acknowledging the autonomia of all Greek cities (which would serve as the basis of the King’s Peace and its subsequent reeditions, as we shall see below) but by defining the rights and responsibilities of those who participated or intended to participate in either alliance, or by establishing the status of certain territories. Thus, there were two main differences between the Thirty Years peace and the later King’s Peace. On the one hand, the Thirty Years peace acknowledged the existence of military alliances, which was incompatible with a general “autonomy clause” (as the King’s Peace would demonstrate), and regulated the existence of those alliances and protected Greek cities by offering them a chance to join either of them. Not surprisingly, the peace of Nicias in 421 (also between Athens and Sparta and their respective military alliances), which was the last major peace treaty in Greece before the King’s Peace, likewise had a clause safeguarding the autonomy of individual cities (as long as they continued to pay the fixed tribute). It has already been suggested that a similar clause existed in the Thirty Years peace as well. On the other hand, the Thirty Years peace contained the “territorial clause,” which recognized the control by some cities over other cities: in particular, the Athenians restored Nisaea, Pergae, Troezen, and Achaea to the Spartans. This arrangement was also incompatible with a general “autonomy clause” (see Appendix 4).

54. E.g., R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a).8–10 and 11–14 (338–337 b.c.; see pp. 74, n. 38, and 89, n. 135, respectively), and [Dem.] 17.8–10 (see p. 89, n. 136). 55. E.g., Nesselhauf, “Verhandlungen,” 291, on Thuc. 1.139.3: “Αὐτονόμους ἀφιέναι means rather to put an alliance on the basis of autonomy; but it no way denotes disbanding a league.” 56. Thuc. 1.35.1–5, 1.40.2. 57. Thuc. 5.18.1–9, with Lewis, Sparta and Persia, 69, and Hornblower, Commentary, 2:476–478, on autonomous cities paying tribute. For different interpretations of this clause: L. Kallet-Marx, Money, Expense, and Naval Power in Thucydides’ History 1–5.24.4 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1993), 180–182. 58. Thuc. 5.18.5. See D. M. Lewis, in CAH 5 (1992): 137, and Nesselhauf, “Verhandlungen,” 291 (see n. 55 above). 59. Thuc. 1.115.1; cf. Thuc. 5.31.5: the “agreement” stipulated that “whatever places any of the states had when they entered the war against Athens they should retain when they came out of it,” with Hornblower, Commentary, 3:73–74.

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The third, and final, observation to be drawn from the text of Thucydides is that his eleutheria appears to have been neither the synonym of autonomia nor a word of “broader meaning”; in the politics that Thucydides describes, eleutheria was freedom from an alliance. This situation also casts doubts on the idea that before eleutheria emerged as a separate concept, it had been included in, or covered by, autonomia. The word eleutheria reveals this meaning in two ways. First, those who allied themselves with the Athenians in the war of their own free will were neither “subject allies” nor “autonomous allies.” Instead, such states occupied a status that was close to that of the mercenaries; that is, they were free to join in or not. Therefore, all Athenian allies, irrespective of whether they were formally “subject” or “autonomous,” could be referred to as “slaves” of Athens, even by the Athenians. Thucydides himself summed up this situation when he said that the allies “cared nothing” for political régimes or “the hollow sham of law and order offered by the Athenians” but preferred to become free of Athenian alliance. And, second, eleutheria carries precisely this meaning, when applied to allies of the other party. Thus, when the Spartans and their followers claimed they had brought freedom to Athenian allies, this did not mean restoring the autonomia to the latter, because the autonomia only concerned one’s status inside an alliance, but detaching them from their alliance with Athens altogether. The slogan of autonomy was intended to weaken existing alliances but did not aim to actually break them apart; hence, the Spartans could proclaim freedom (eleutheria) for the Greeks, while retaining their own alliance whose members allegedly had autonomia. But the slogan of freedom served to demolish the Athenian alliance. Calls to “free” Athenian allies, which were made by Archidamos, the Corinthians, the Mytileneans, and—in an unmatched display blending arrogance and blackmail—by the Spartan general Brasidas, among others, served only this purpose.

60. This view, e.g., H. H. Schmitt, “Freiheit,” in LH, 350–351. 61. Thuc. 8.48.5; 8.64.4–5. 62. For this difference between eleutheria and autonomia: Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 330. 63. Raaflaub, Discovery, 149: “It seems clear that Sparta at this stage was striving, not to gain complete independence for Athens’ subjects, but to restore their original status within the symmachy.” 64. E.g., Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 343–344; Nesselhauf, “Verhandlungen,” 287, 292. 65. Pace H. Diller, “Freiheit bei Thukydides als Schlagwort und als Wirklichkeit,” in H. Diller, Kleine Schriften zur antiken Literatur (Munich: Beck, 1971), who saw a discrepancy between what he termed the Spartan “program of liberation” (467–469, 472) in the Peloponnesian war and the actual status of Spartan allies. 66. Archidamos: Thuc. 2.72.1; the Corinthians: Thuc. 1.124.1; the Mytileneans: Thuc. 3.13.1, 7. Brasidas: Thuc. 4.85.1, 6; 4.86.1; 4.87.2, 5, 6; 4.108.2; 4.114.3; 4.120.3; 4.121.1; 5.9.10, with Raaflaub, Discovery, 149–150 and Tritle, A New History, 105 (“freedom and autonomy from Athenian oppression”). Nor does Herodot. 8.140 offer any valid ground to equate eleutheria and autonomia (as Figueira,”Autonomoi,” 85): the proposal of Mardonios gave Athens the right to live under her own laws (autonomoi) and remain free in foreign affairs (eleutheroi), thus reflecting the traditional association of these words with the two main activities of a community (see nn. 69–71 below).

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The speech of Archidamos refers to Pausanias, who endeavored to make Greeks “free” and asserted the “independence” (autonomia) of Plataea, which allowed some to conclude that “both the Plataians and Spartans equate[d] autonomy and freedom.” However, the Plataeans received autonomia while remaining a member of the Athenian alliance (i.e., precisely in the same fashion as the Aeginatans wanted to preserve their autonomia), whereas eleutheria referred to those who had “sworn oaths to Athens and eventually became her subjects,” thus hinting at the wish of the Spartans to detach such cities from the Athenian alliance. Autonomia, which concerned the city’s internal independence, including the right of the city to use its own laws, could be quite compatible with the city’s membership in a military alliance, whereas eleutheria, which meant freedom of the city from external pressure, also defined freedom from participating in a military alliance. Thucydides’s examination of the Peloponnesian war, therefore, presents the meanings of these concepts in the same way as they have been established by those who have examined their application for the status of individual Greek cities: the traditional understanding of eleutheria as being relevant to the external activities of the city, whereas autonomia focuses on its internal organization, even though a debate about the meanings of the two words is still going on. The “autonomy clause” was introduced into the peace treaty between Sparta and Argos in 418. One of this treaty’s provisions was that “the cities of Peloponnese, both small and great, shall all be independent (autonomous) according to their hereditary usages.” This “autonomy clause,” therefore, concerned only the cities inside the Peloponnese; for the regions outside the Peloponnese, specific territorial arrangements were set up: the Argives agreed to evacuate Epidaurus, whereas the Spartan allies who lived outside the Peloponnese were expected to retain their territory, and a similar provision seems to have been implied for the Argive allies as well. The reason for the use of the “autonomy clause” has been acknowledged

67. Figueira, “Autonomoi,” 82. 68. Thuc. 1.67.2. 69. For the development of the meaning of autonomia from “independence” to “self-government combined with subordination to a supreme power”: Hansen, “The ‘Autonomous City-State,’” 41, followed by D. Grieser-Schmitz, Die Seebundpolitik Athens in der Publizistik des Isokrates (Bonn: Habelt, 1999), 73–74. 70. See bibliographical references: pp. 6–7, nn. 6–10. 71. E.g., Gillone, “I Lacedemoni,” 127–128; Grieser-Schmitz, Seebundpolitik, who amalgamated the two concepts, concerning the status of individual cities (165: “Freiheit der πόλις, Autonomie”) and membership in an alliance (76: “die autonome Freiheit der Symmachoi”). 72. Thuc. 5.77.5 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 194, with further observations and bibliography in Hornblower, Commentary, 3:199–200. 73. Thuc. 5.77.2 (Epidaurus) and the same “territorial clause” (τὰν αὐτῶν ἔχοντες) in 5.77.7 and 5.79.1.

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as the Spartan desire to “break up regional hegemonies in the Peloponnese like those of Elis or Mantinea.” A similar clause was likely included in the peace treaty established between Sparta and Mantinea in 418 or a little later. In the words of Thucydides, this treaty required the Mantineans to “give up their rule over the cities” and, thus, as Peter Funke put it, to “renounce control over extended parts of Arcadia.” Just as we have seen above, the “autonomy clause” did not necessarily break down military alliances but made them ineffective. However, although the application of the “autonomy clause” may have remained much the same as before, its use now expanded from individual cities to an entire region. This was not yet a general “autonomy clause,” however. The two regions covered by the treaty of 418 were arranged by the “autonomy clause” and the “territorial clause,” respectively. Both clauses served the same purpose, namely, to check the ambitions of the two parties. The “territorial clause” would also continue to be used on its own: we see it in the treaty between Sparta and Persia in 411, which made no reference to freedom and autonomy but only delimited respective territories, the chora of the King, in particular. The immediate outcome of the Peloponnesian war was the establishment of Sparta’s dominance in Greece for several decades. The “autonomy clause” was still applied with respect to individual cities: furthering their political interests, the Spartans demanded that Elis give autonomy to several subject cities in 400. The Elaeans naturally reciprocated by requesting that the Spartans likewise leave their subject communities alone. The use of the word autonomia (and of eleutheria at a later date) could hardly deceive the Greeks. The responses to the Spartans by Pericles and the Elaeans show that the Greeks understood the real meaning of

74. Figueira, “Autonomoi,” 65, with reference, in particular, to Sparta’s recognition of the autonomia of Lepreum (Thuc. 5.31.3–4) and of the Parrhasians (Thuc. 5.29.1, 5.33.3, and 5.81.1, with Hornblower, Commentary, 3:65, 207); P. Funke, “Between Mantinea and Leuctra: The Political World of the Peloponnese in a Time of Upheaval,” in The Politics of Ethnicity and the Crisis of the Peloponnesian League, ed. P. Funke and N. Luraghi (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press; London: Center for Hellenic Studies, 2009), 8–9, on the Mantineans as having established their “regional hegemony” in southwestern Arcadia. Cf. M. Pretzler, “Arcadia. Ethnicity and Politics in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BCE,” in ibid., 87, on “Mantinea’s small-scale imperialist tendencies in the fifth century.” 75. Thuc. 5.81.1 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 195 (418–417 b.c.?). See Funke, “Between Mantinea and Leuctra,” 7–11, who presented this “regional hegemony” of Mantinea as a possible explanation as to why the Spartans treated the Mantineans so harshly in 385–384. This looks like a more convincing explanation than a reference to the Spartan punishment of Mantinea as an “ally which had not been sufficiently loyal”: P. J. Rhodes, A History of the Classical Greek World, 478–323 b.c. (Malden: Blackwell, 2010), 247. We also see similar “regional hegemonies” established by other cities in the Peloponnese and elsewhere. 76. Thuc. 8.58.2–3 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 202. For the text of this treaty, as different from the previous two (summer 412 and winter 412): E. Lévy, in BCH 107 (1983): 229–232. 77. Xen. Hellen. 3.2.21–31; Diod. 14.17.4–12, and Paus. 3.8.3–7.

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Sparta’s declarations quite well. Although the Peloponnesian war submitted Greece to Spartan leadership, Greek cities were quick to recover. Having shaken off the yoke of the tyranny of the Thirty (404–403), Athens proceeded to rebuild its Confederacy. The Thebans restored the Boeotian Federation, thus reestablishing their hegemony over Boeotia. Spartan supremacy was soon challenged militarily. The Corinthian war (395–388) was waged against Sparta by a coalition of Greek states (including Athens, Thebes, Corinth, and Argos), with financial support from the King of Persia, Artaxerxes II. It seems he was not happy with unchallenged Spartan predominance in Greece, not to mention the Spartan support in 401–400 of royal claims by Cyrus the Younger. Added to that were Spartan military operations in Asia Minor at the turn of the fourth century, and, finally, Agesilaos’s campaign there in 396–394. In 392, in the midst of numerous conflicts on all fronts, a Spartan statesman Antalcidas made the following proposal to Tiribazos, a satrap of Artaxerxes II, at the Spartan-Persian conference at Sardis: “[T]he Spartans, he said, urged no claim against the King to the Greek cities in Asia and they were content that all the islands and other Greek cities should be independent (autonomous).” Antalcidas’s words meant that Sparta would not start a war against the Persians, so long as cities in Greece remained independent. Athens refused to subscribe to the Peace of 392, however, since the “autonomy clause” would deprive the Athenians of the three islands they considered to be theirs: Lemnos, Imbros, and Skyros; the Thebans withdrew because this clause would strip them of their control over Boeotia, and the Argives rejected this proposal for the reason that they would have to leave Corinth. The negotiations thus failed because major political powers rejected the “autonomy clause” that threatened to undermine their leading position among the Greeks.

78. Cf. the alliance between Athens and “the Boeotians” in 395: R&O 6 (= IG II 14 = GHI 101 = Syll. 122 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 223), with the commentary of Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 40. 79. Lists of allies: Xen. Hellen. 4.2.17, 4.3.15; Isocr. 14.28; Diod. 14.82.1. 80. Cyrus: Isocr. 8.98, 12.104. Spartan campaigns: S. Hornblower, in CAH 6 (1994), 65–68, and S. Hornblower, The Greek World: 479–323 b.c. (London and New York: Routledge, 2002), 213–214 (“the SpartoPersian War of 400–390”). Agesilaos: P. Briant, Histoire de l’empire perse de Cyrus à Alexandre (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 656–664. 81. Xen. Hellen. 4.8.14, and also 6.3.12. This approach looks similar to that of Philip II, whose campaign against Persia was caused, to a large extent, by Philip’s desire to secure his control over Greece (see pp. 94–95, nn. 160–162). A close stance: Hornblower, Greek World, 214: “strategically, any power which controlled the Anatolian seaboard and its harbors could thereby hold down the mainland of Greece with much greater ease.” 82. Xen. Hellen. 4.8.12–15. J. Wickersham, Hegemony and Greek Historians (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1994), 96–97.

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However, the idea of using the slogan of autonomy to influence the political situation in Greece as a whole was too attractive to be simply discarded. The declaration of Artaxerxes II in 387, which was the basis of the so-called King’s Peace (also known as the peace of Antalcidas) in the following year, made this clear enough by stating that “King Artaxerxes thinks it just that the cities in Asia should belong to him, as well as Clazomenae and Cyprus among the islands, and that the other Greek cities, both small and great, should be left autonomous, except Lemnos, Imbros, and Skyros. These should belong, as of old, to the Athenians. But whichever of the two parties does not accept this peace, upon them I will make war.” The restoration by the King of the three islands to the Athenians, in addition to the Spartan military pressure, made all the Greeks assent eventually to the King’s Peace in 386. Hermann Bengtson, who collected all the direct evidence available about the King’s Peace, also discussed, among other things, whether the King’s Peace was the “common peace” itself (and if the King’s Peace was the same as the edict of Artaxerxes II that was read to Antalcidas in Sardis), or whether the “common peace” (for this concept, see in more detail further in this chapter) was established on the basis of the King’s Peace. Both the former  and the latter opinion have received support, so that the debate is still going on. This debate is irrelevant for the present discussion, however, because the King’s Peace was never a “common peace,” at least not in the usual understanding of this phrase, as we shall see below, and because the significance of the “autonomy clause” remains the same in either case. The King’s Peace therefore emerged as a result of the development of several concepts: the “autonomy clause,” in particular, was expanded and used here in a general sense for the entire territory of Greece. This situation appears to have been

83. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31; see also Diod. 14.110.3 and Polyb. 4.27.5. 84. E.g., Bengtson, Staatsverträge 2, p. 192 ad no. 242. 85. E.g., T. T. B. Ryder, Koine Eirene: General Peace and Local Independence in Ancient Greece University of Hull: published by Oxford University Press, 1965), 28 n. 4, 35; R. Seager, “The King’s Peace and the Balance of Power in Greece, 386–362 b.c.,” Athenaeum, n.s., 52 (1974): 51; C. D. Hamilton, Sparta’s Bitter Victories: Politics and Diplomacy in the Corinthian War (Ithaca, N.Y., and London: Cornell University Press, 1979), 317; M. Munn, “Thebes and Central Greece,” in The Greek World in the Fourth Century: From the Fall of the Athenian Empire to the Successors of Alexander, ed. L. A. Tritle (London and New York: Routledge, 1997), 74; Hornblower, Greek World, 225. 86. E.g., U. Wilcken, Über Enstehung und Zweck des Königsfriedens (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1942), 19–20, who did not limit the King’s Peace to the “common peace” because the King’s Peace also established the subject status of Greek cities in Asia Minor; Bengtson (ad Staatsverträge 2, no. 242); Cawkwell, Wars, 149, 181. 87. E.g., Hamilton, Bitter Victories, 313–315 (who correctly connected this question with the problem of interrelationships between the conference at Sardis and a subsequent meeting at Sparta); L. S. Amantini, in Atti dell’Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, vol. 138 (1979–1980). Cl. di scienze morali, lettere ed arti, 469 n. 4.

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prepared by the post-war developments, including the Spartan campaign led by Agesilaos against Persia in 396–394 with its purpose that “the cities in Asia shall be independent (autonomous), as those in our part of Europe.” As a practical measure, the King’s Peace limited the power of major political players: the acknowledgment of the autonomy of Greek cities in “Europe” served to maintain Peace in the future, which is quite like the acknowledgment of the subject status of Greek cities in Asia. A refusal to accept the autonomy of Greek cities, which meant the refusal to accept the Peace thus offered a casus belli. We have already seen that the Spartans applied the “autonomy clause” to individual cities or specific regions, such as the Peloponnese and (probably) Boeotia. Scarce as it is, the evidence suggests that the initiative for using the slogan of autonomy belonged to the Spartans. Sparta, too, was behind the King’s Peace. The difference was that now the “autonomy clause” had been extended to all of Greece. However, this general “autonomy clause” retained some of the attributes of the slogan of autonomy that had been previously used only on a limited basis. For example, the general “autonomy clause” likewise neither could nor did contain any provisions about the actual status of individual Greek cities. The general “autonomy clause” similarly let the Spartans undermine military alliances in Greece, such as “Confederacies,” “Federations,” and “Leagues” which, as the Greeks knew all too well (the memory of the Peloponnesian war being still quite fresh), were based on forcing the weaker to follow the stronger. All these words are recent creations, which modern scholarship uses in retrospect, often indiscriminately. For example, the ancient Greeks are not known to have applied any special concept for “the Lacedaemonians and their allies,” whereas modern works customarily refer to “the Peloponnesian League.” Another concept unknown to the Greeks, that of “federalism,” has also been actively employed in modern discussions. Such studies focus exclusively on the internal organization of “federal states,” by contrasting them with each other and with individual cities, and largely ignore their interrelationship with Philip II, Alexander III, and Hellenistic

88. Xen. Hellen. 3.4.5. 89. On Boeotia, see M. Sordi, Scritti di storia greca (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 2002), 309–310. 90. Pace Quass, “Königsfriede,” 50–51; J. Buckler, Aegean Greece in the Fourth Century b.c. (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2003), 173, who therefore referred to Lemnos, Imbros, and Scyros as “the only exceptions.” 91. E.g., P. J. Rhodes, “Federal States,” in OCD, 591. 92. J. A. O. Larsen, Greek Federal States: Their Institutions and History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), with no definition for either “federal state” or “federalism”; Beck, Polis, 18–19; G. R. Stanton, in Hellenika: Essays on Greek Politics and History, ed. G. H. R. Horsley (North Ryde: Macquarie Ancient History Association, 1982), 183–190; C. Bearzot, in Giornata tebana, ed. F. Cordano (Milan: CUEM, 2002), 79–118, and C. Bearzot, Federalismo e autonomia nelle Elleniche di Senofonte (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 2004), 9–20.

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rulers. It appears to be totally futile to become engaged in debates about the meaning of these words, whereas the application of the concept of “federalism” to ancient Greece is clearly out of the question. The present book employs the words “League,” “Federation,” and “Confederacy” only for the purpose of convenience and out of respect to an established scholarly tradition. One of the most famous outcomes of the King’s Peace was the forcible reorganization of the political system of Mantinea by the Spartans, who split that city up into what purported to be its four or five constituent villages, even though some have followed Xenophon’s view that the Spartans’ motive was “mere desire to punish Mantineans for various past military offences,” rather than “any sincere anxiety to enforce the King’s Peace.” The case of Mantinea could be special, however, as it concerned a member of the Peloponnesian League. Whatever motive the Spartans might have had, the King’s Peace offered them a valid justification for their aggression: the Spartans most likely acted in the name of autonomia, because Athens’ refusal to help Mantinea was justified by the Athenians as a desire to not breach the provisions of the King’s Peace, and, once the Spartans were defeated at Leuctra in 371, the Mantineans claimed to have restored not only their city but also their autonomia. Elsewhere, the Spartan approach did not have to be that harsh. For example, while it has been commonly assumed that the Boeotian Federation was dissolved under pressure from the Spartans, no ancient text makes a direct reference to its dissolution. The effect of the “autonomy clause” made enforcing this measure 93. E.g., P. Salmon, in Federazioni e federalismo nell’Europa antica, ed. L. A. Foresti et al. (Turin: Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, 1994), 217–221; pace Hornblower, Greek World, 199–200. 94. Xen. Hellen. 5.2–3; Polyb. 4.27.5–6; Diod. 15.5.3–5; Paus. 8.8.7–10, 9.14.4; FGrH 70 (Ephoros) F 79; Isocr. 8.100. Ch. D. Hamilton, Agesilaus and the Failure of Spartan Hegemony (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1991), 125–126; Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 86; P. Funke, “Sparta und die Peloponnesische Staatenwelt zu Beginn des 4. Jahrhunderts und der Dioikismos von Mantineia,” in Xenophon and His World, ed. C. Tuplin (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2004): 427–435; P. Low, Interstate Relations in Classical Greece: Morality and Power (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 194. 95. Hornblower, Greek World, 228. 96. See Appendix 2; D. G. Rice, “Agesilaus, Agesipolis, and Spartan Politics, 386–379 b.c.,” Historia 23 (1974): 166–171; G. Bockisch, in Hellenische Poleis: Krise, Wandlung, Wirkung, ed. E. Ch. Welskopf (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1974), 1:212–213; R. K. Sinclair, “The King’s Peace and the Employment of Military and Naval Forces: 387–378,” Chiron 8 (1978): 38; H. M. Hack, in AJP 99 (1978): 219; Gillone, “I Lacedemoni,” 117–121, and a summary: Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 135 n. 49. See also Funke, “Staatenwelt,” 429–430. 97. Diod. 15.5.5 with P. J. Stylianou, A Historical Commentary on Diodorus Siculus, Book 15 (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 167, and Rhodes, History, 230, 247; Gillone, “I Lacedemoni,” 121 n. 26. See Appendix 1. 98. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.3, 5, 10–11. 99. E.g., Rhodes, History, 282–283.

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unnecessary: this clause was not supposed to break down the Theban alliance in the 380s (and the same was true for the Peloponnesian war, as we have seen above). By making the individual members “autonomous” of each other, the “autonomy clause” effectively undermined its military strength. This is what Xenophon means when he says that the Spartans made Boeotian cities “independent” of Thebes; he never mentions that the Spartans demanded the dissolution of the Boeotian Federation. Spartan insistence on autonomy for the Boeotian cities, in line with the provision of the King’s Peace, has been explained as having the aim “not to dissolve the Boeotian association but to weaken the power of Thebes.” It was the “autonomy clause” of the King’s Peace that Agesilaos used to remove the cities of Boeotia from the control of Thebes, thus fulfilling the old wish of the Spartans. The Thebans reestablished their effective control over Boeotia by the late 380s. In 382, however, the Spartans occupied the Cadmea, the citadel of Thebes, and made the Boeotian Federation ineffective once again. A Spartan garrison at the Cadmea was established in the name of the King’s Peace, even though this was clearly against the provisions of the King’s Peace. The Arcadian League was likewise reorganized in the name of protecting the independence of some Arcadians. We learn that after the Spartan defeat at Leuctra in 371, when some proposed to unite Arcadian cities into one League with a common assembly and a common council that had binding decisions (which, therefore, threatened the autonomia of its members), the Arcadians became divided into two warring camps, gravitating to Sparta and Thebes accordingly. Another alliance that was undermined by the “autonomy clause”—in fact, even before the formal conclusion of the King’s Peace—was that between the Argives and the Corinthians: the Argive garrison had to leave Corinth. The Spartans also changed the political régime of several other Greek cities. In 380, the Spartans

100. E.g., Xen. Hellen. 5.1.96. 101. As N. G. L. Hammond, in CQ, n.s., 50 (2000): 88 (with reference to Plut. Ages. 23.3: ὅπως .  .  . ἀσθενέστεροι γένωνται); Seager, “Balance,” 50. 102. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31 and 36; cf. 5.2.16. K. J. Beloch, Griechische Geschichte (Berlin and Leipzig: De Gruyter, 1922), 3(1):94–95; J. Buckler, “The Re-establishment of the Boiotarchia (378 b.c.),” AJAH 4 (1979): 50. 103. Xen. Hellen. 5.2.25–31, 35; 5.4.1, and 6.3.9; Diod. 15.20.1–2; Plut. Pelop. 5.2–3. R. J. Buck, Boiotia and the Boiotian League, 423–371 b.c. (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1994), 64–69. 104. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.6–9; Diod. 15.59.1–4; see p. 85, n. 107. For considerations of the possible date of the restoration of the Arcadian League, see Stylianou, Commentary, 415–416. 105. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.34–36. This alliance: M. Whitby, in Historia 33 (1984): 295–308. 106. E.g., Isocr. 4.126; Xen. Hellen. 6.3.7–9; Diod. 15.5.3; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 37–38; R. Sealey, A History of the Greek City States ca. 700–338 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1976), 406–408; C. Tuplin, The Failings of Empire: A Reading of Xenophon Hellenica 2.3.11–7.5.27 (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993), 87–96.

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expelled Neogenes, the tyrant of Histiaea on Euboea; and by 379 they had suppressed the power of the newly formed Chalcidian League in the northern Aegean. Whereas the Boeotian Federation and other alliances fell victim to the King’s Peace, the Peloponnesian League of Sparta survived, whether because its members were deemed autonomous (some think that the organization of the League was loose and the Spartan control over its members not so evident, as we know from the organization of the Peloponnesian League) or because Sparta administered the King’s Peace and thus had the final say, or for both reasons. Yet, although the members of the Peloponnesian League were formally independent, Spartan control actually appears to have been tight, as follows from various pieces of evidence, such as those relevant to the fate of Mantinea. We also know, however, about the refusal of the Corinthians and some other Spartan allies to sign the peace treaty of 421 or to participate in the Spartan campaign against “the men of the Piraeus” in 403. Irrespective of the precise nature of the Peloponnesian League in the early fourth century, what is clear is that the King’s Peace failed to create political balance among major Greek cities. By using the slogan of autonomy in their own political interests, the Spartans effectively established their control over Greece in the 380s, which some referred to as “slavery.” At that time, “the Spartan 107. Neogenes: Diod. 15.30.3–4. The Chalcidian League: M. Zahrnt, Olynth und die Chalkidier (Munich: Beck, 1971), 80–97; M. Zahrnt, “Chalkidike,” in NPauly 2 (1997): 1088. Whether the Chalcidian League itself was disbanded by the Spartans has been debated; see, e.g., S. Psoma, Olynthe et les Chalcidiens de Thrace: Études de numismatique et d’histoire (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2001), 228–230, who rejected the idea of the dissolution of that League in 379 b.c. 108. E.g., H. W. Parke, “The Development of the Second Spartan Empire (405–371 b.c.),” JHS 50 (1930): 70–71; Badian, “King’s Peace,” 44–45; cf. de de Ste. Croix, “Character,” 20–21; G. L. Cawkwell, in CQ, n.s., 43 (1993): 364; Rhodes, “Autonomia,” 361; Hornblower, Greek World, 226. 109. E.g., Ste. Croix, Origins, 97–99, 101–123; Pistorius, Hegemoniestreben, 87–93, 120–125. 110. E.g., P. Karavites, in RIDA, 3rd ser., 31 (1984): 187, and a close stance by M. A. Dandamaev, A Political History of the Achaemenid Empire, trans. W. J. Vogelsang (Leiden and New York: Brill, 1989), 294. 111. Mantinea: see nn. 94–98 above. Further evidence: Xen. Hellen. 5.3.11, 6.3.7–9; Diod. 15.28.2; Paus. 3.8.3. 112. The treaty of 421: Thuc. 5.30.2, 5.31.5. The Spartan campaign: Xen. Hellen. 2.4.30, 3.5.5. 113. E.g., the Panegyricos: Isocr. 4.176–177 (written probably around 380). 114. As E. W. von Stern, “Geschichte der Spartanischen und Thebanischen Hegemonie vom Königsfrieden bis zur Schlacht bei Mantinea” (diss., Dorpat, 1884), 23–24; Wilcken, Enstehung, 6; V. Martin, “Sur une interprétation nouvelle de la ‘Paix du Roi,’” MH 6 (1949): 129, 132; H. Bengtson, Griechische Geschichte von den Anfängen bis in die Römische Kaiserzeit (Munich: Beck, 1977), 272–273; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 31; Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 133–136; E. Baltrusch, Sparta: Geschichte, Gesellschaft, Kultur (Munich: Beck, 1998), 105; Buckler, Greece, 526. 115. Esp. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.7–9; Polyb. 4.27.5–6; Diod. 5.19.1–4; E. Lanzillotta, in Miscellanea Greca e Romana 7 (1980): 129–178; J. Radicke, Die Rede des Demosthenes für die Freiheit der Rhodier (Or. 15) (Stuttgart and Leipzig: Teubner, 1995), 11; Funke, “Between Mantinea and Leuctra,” 7. 116. E.g., Diod. 15.9.5.

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spear was dominant,” according to the inscription from the monument commemorating the Theban victory at Leuctra (371) that ended this period. The rest of Greece, therefore, had to be on guard: even if the Theban, Arcadian, and some other alliances formally survived, Sparta’s defense of the autonomia of their member states prevented these alliances from being effective military organizations. And, regardless of the nature of these Leagues all major cities in Greece were expected to participate in the King’s Peace on an individual basis. Of course this provision concerned, first and foremost, Athens and Thebes. However, these two, and some other Greek cities, would soon find ways to counteract the domination of Sparta. In 384–383, the Athenians established an alliance with Chios and probably Chalcis. Athens’ treaty with Chios specifically emphasized that this alliance constituted no infringement of the King’s Peace, which, according to this treaty, gave autonomia and eleutheria to the Greeks. As Bosworth has observed, “Freedom was not in itself a clause in the King’s Peace, but the Athenians pointedly associated the term with autonomy.” The rise in the use of the term eleutheria, which would later be retrospectively linked with the King’s Peace, may have been connected with the change in meaning of the word autonomia. Many have already noted that eleutheria and autonomia eventually related to different, largely “external” and “internal,” aspects of the life of Greek cities. What seems to have often been overlooked is that this situation came about as a result of the development that included the transformation of the meaning of autonomia as well. The power of Olynthus and its Chalcidian League was being resurrected in the late 380s as well: in 383, the ambassadors from Acanthus and Apollonia complained before the Spartans and Spartan allies of the expansion of Olynthus and the growth of its military alliance, into which Olynthus was forcing its neighbors, including the cities of Macedonia, which the Olynthians “freed” from the control of Amyntas III. The ambassadors urged the Spartans with the following words: “You should consider this question also, how you can consistently, after having taken

117. R&O 30 (= IG VII 2462 = GHI 130).2 (trans. Harding); Diod. 15.19.1. Parke, “Development,” 72–73. 118. E.g., Beck, Polis, 240, 244, on the Molossians, Thessalians, Achaeans, Acarnanians, and Phocians. Cf. Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 109: the King’s Peace “aimed at fostering reconciliation and autonomy among the Greek states.” 119. Chios: R&O 20 (= IG II 34 = GHI 118 = Syll. 142 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 248).17–23 (384–383 b.c.) with Tod ad loc. Chalcis: IG II 44 = GHI 124 = Syll. 148 (384–383 b.c.) with Xen. Hellen. 5.2.15: the Olynthians planned to establish alliances with the Athenians and the Thebans (383 b.c.). A proposed redating of IG II 44 = GHI 124 = Syll. 148 to 379–378 b.c. (see p. 382, nn. 9–10) thus puts the treaty between Athens and Chalcis among several other treaties concluded by Athens in the early 370s: Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 40–42. 120. Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 136. See, in general, Appendix 4. 121. See nn. 69–71 above.

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care in the case of Boeotia to prevent its being united, nevertheless disregard the gathering of a much greater power.” While the Spartans eventually managed to overcome the Chalcidian League, Athenian help allowed the Theban exiles to retake their city and liberate the Cadmea in 379. Whether the Athenians officially decreed their help to the Thebans has been debated. Diodoros says the Athenians made an official decision to help Thebes, but his information has been questioned. Plutarch even speaks about the alliance (symmachia) between Thebes and Athens at that time. He might have referred to the treaty of alliance between Athens and “the Boeotians” concluded in 395. However, this alliance, as well as the Boeotian Federation, should have been undermined by the King’s Peace in 386. Therefore, Plutarch’s words have been doubted as well, whereas, according to Xenophon, one of the Athenian generals who helped the Thebans was condemned to death by the popular assembly in Athens, while the other was forced into exile. Such doubts are strengthened by the evidence that shows that in 395 the Athenians concluded an alliance with “the Boeotians,” whereas the alliance that we see in the early 370s was one between Athens and Thebes. At any rate, Athens used this moment of Spartan weakness to strengthen her own position by establishing new military alliances with individual states.

122. Xen. Hellen. 5.2.11–19 (at 5.2.16) with Hornblower, Greek World, 230–231. It is interesting, but hardly surprising, that the Olynthians were also establishing their control over Macedonian cities under the slogan of giving them freedom from Amyntas III (the father of Philip II): Xen. Hellen. 5.2.12–13. For Olynthus’s negotiations with Athens and Thebes about forming a military alliance, see p. 382, n. 8. 123. See n. 107 above. 124. See Staatsverträge 2, no. 254; Buck, Boiotia, 72–78; J. DeVoto, in Daidalikon: Studies in Memory of Raymond V. Schoder, S.J., ed. R. F. Sutter (Wauconda: Bolchazy-Carducci, 1989), 101–116. 125. E.g., Busolt, Bund, 681–682; W. Judeich, “Athen und Theben vom Königsfrieden bis zur Schlacht bei Leuktra,” RhM 76 (1927): 175; P. Cloché, La politique étrangère d’Athènes de 404 à 338 avant Jésus-Christ (Paris: Alcan, 1934), 55–56; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 42; Buck, Boiotia, 83–87; E. Badian, “The Ghost of Empire: Reflections on Athenian Foreign Policy in the Fourth Century b.c.,” in Die Athenische Demokratie im 4. Jahrhundert v.Chr., ed. W. Eder and Chr. Auffarth (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1995), 87–89; M. Jehne, “Überlegungen zu den Auslassungen in Xenophons Hellenika am Beispiel der Gründung des Zweiten Athenischen Seebunds,” in Xenophon and His World, ed. C. Tuplin (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2004), 474 n. 40. 126. Diod. 15.25.4–15.26.2 with Hornblower, Greek World, 233. E.g., Stern, “Geschichte,” 59–60. 127. Plut. Pelop. 14; see p. 382, n. 8. This alliance: R&O 6 = IG II 14 = GHI 101 = Syll. 122 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 223 (see n. 78 above). 128. E.g., Bengtson (ad Staatsverträge 2, no. 254); Ch. D. Hamilton, “Diodorus on the Establishment of the Second Athenian League,” AHB 3 (1989): 97. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 5.4.9, 19. 129. E.g., A. P. Burnett, “Thebes and the Expansion of the Second Athenian Confederacy,” Historia 11 (1962): 3; C. Schwenk, “Athens,” in The Greek World in the Fourth Century, 20–21; Ch. D. Hamilton, “Sparta,” in ibid., 55.

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Some states already had treaties with Athens, as did Chios and Chalcis, whereas other states—such as Mytilene, Thebes, Byzantium, and Methymna— only concluded them in 378–377. Athens’ diplomatic activity signaled the resurrection of the Athenian Confederacy. One can debate as to what event provoked this resurrection. A recent suggestion has been that since the alliance between Athens and Chios resulted from the Chian embassy to Athens, “perhaps it was the Chians who had advanced the idea that defensive alliances were compatible with Peace.” Even if the idea came not from Athens but from elsewhere, one certainly needs to distinguish between the bilateral alliances of Athens with Chios and other individual Greek city-states on the one hand, and the Second Athenian Confederacy on the other: Chios had a treaty of alliance with Athens (and with the Second Athenian Confederacy), but Chios was not a member of the Confederacy. Irrespective of who initiated this development, Sparta could not ignore it. However, the Spartan attack by Sphodrias on the Piraeus in 378 was unsuccessful. The eventual acquittal of Sphodrias in Sparta refreshed the memory of the Greeks about the Spartan seizure of the Cadmea by Phoebidas only a few years earlier. Like Sphodrias, Phoebidas allegedly acted on his own initiative. Although he was formally fined, the Spartans retained control over the Cadmea and established their garrison there, so that the Greeks decided that Phoebidas had been acting under orders. Either way, Phoebidas’s attack was a Spartan reaction to the growing might of Thebes, and in particular the reestablished Theban control over (at least some part of) Boeotia. This attack, as well as the later Spartan assault on the Piraeus—regardless of whether the latter failed for some reason or had originally been conceived only

130. R&O 20 = IG II 34 and IG II 35 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 248 (384–383 b.c.); IG II 44 = GHI 124 = Syll. 148 (384–383 or early 370s b.c.; see n. 119 above). 131. Mytilene and Thebes: IG II 40; Byzantium: IG II 41 = GHI 121 = Syll. 146 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 256; Methymna: R&O 23 = IG II 42 with Hornblower, Greek World, 233–234 (379–378 b.c.). 132. S. Ruzicka, “The Eastern Greek World,” in The Greek World in the Fourth Century, 119; Burnett, “Thebes,” 3; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 40; Seager, “Balance,” 44. 133. Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 86. 134. See R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).15–25 (see n. 158 below and Appendix 1 with more detail). 135. Diod. 15.29.6 with Busolt, Bund, 679–680 (in the first half of 378 b.c.); Buckler, Greece, 221 n. 37: “anytime between April and the beginning of the campaigning-season in May”; and a recent thorough treatment by S. Hodkinson, “The Episode of Sphodrias as a Source for Spartan Social History,” in Corolla Cosmo Rodewald, ed. N. V. Sekunda (Gdansk: Foundation for the Development of Gdansk University, 2007), 43–65, incl. 43 (“in summer 378”). 136. Xen. Hellen. 5.2.32; Diod. 15.20.1–2; Plut. Ages. 23.3–24.1.

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as a show of force—reflected the fact that the political situation in Greece was changing in the late 380s and early 370s, and that Sparta was losing control over the Greeks, which she had been trying to maintain by diplomacy. One is tempted to compare Sphodrias’s attack on the Piraeus with the Spartan admiral Teleutias’s sailing into the Piraeus in 388, that is, when the Spartans were negotiating with the King for what would soon become the King’s Peace. The show of force was an effective argument; but in the case of Sphodrias, this show of force backfired after it had failed. Establishing a parallel between these two Spartan attacks further undermines the allegation, most prominent in the text of Xenophon, that it was the Thebans who had provoked Sphodrias’s attack. The increasing Spartan pressure on Greece in the late 380s should have been caused, at least in part, by the growing attempts of the Greeks to regain their former might and independence. In the words of Diodoros, Sparta’s intensified control revealed to many Greeks that the Spartans were acting in their own interests and contrary to the agreements of the King’s Peace (para tas koinas synthekas). According to Diodoros, therefore, Sphodrias’s raid on the Piraeus allowed the Athenians to vote that the Spartans had broken the “covenants” (tas spondas), with a clear reference to the King’s Peace. The results were immediate. Athens now had the right to offer military help to the Thebans, and Athens and Thebes established an alliance as a follow-up to Sphodrias’s attack. While accusing Sparta of breaching the King’s Peace, the Athenians did not speak against the King’s Peace as such. They now claimed to protect the King’s Peace. Athenian envoys traveled throughout Greece, and especially (quite understandably) to the cities allied with Sparta, speaking in defense of the King’s Peace and accusing Sparta of depriving the Greeks of their autonomy “against the oaths and

137. D. G. Rice, “Xenophon, Diodorus and the Year 379/378 b.c.,” Yale CS 24 (1975): 114–118; R. M. KalletMarx, “Athens, Thebes, and the Foundation of the Second Athenian League,” Classical Antiquity 4 (1985): 149–151; K.-W. Welwei, Das Klassische Athen: Demokratie und Machtpolitik im 5. und 4. Jahrhundert (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1999), 279; Buckler, Greece, 220–223; Rhodes, History, 249. Overviews: J.-C. Riedinger, Étude sur les Helléniques: Xénophon et l’histoire (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1991), 134–135; Badian, “Ghost,” 89 n. 33; Jehne, “Überlegungen,” 470, 476. 138. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.13–24. 139. Riedinger, Étude, 177–179, and Welwei, Athen, 417 n. 95 (both with an emphasis on Xenophon’s antiTheban stance); but see also Plut. Pelop. 14.3 and Hodkinson, “The Episode of Sphodrias,” 47–48. 140. Diod. 15.19.1 and 15.29.5, 7. 141. Xen. Hellen. 5.4.34; Diod. 15.29.7; Plut. Pelop. 15.1. Thebes and the Second Athenian Confederacy: Appendix 1. 142. Staatsverträge 2, nos. 254–255; Busolt, Bund, 683; Judeich, “Athen und Theben,” 178; Cloché, La politique, 58; J. DeVoto, in AHB 1.4 (1987): 82. See Appendix 1 for more detail. 143. For this important nuance: Lewis, Sparta and Persia, 147 n. 80; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 53.

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covenants.” The Athenians therefore, first, took over Spartan vocabulary and, second, propagated the slogan of freedom. The slogan of freedom quickly came to be presented throughout Greece as reflecting the principles of the King’s Peace. An Athenian decree, which belongs to the early 360s but has been interpreted as alluding to the conflict that broke out between Athens and Sparta in the 370s, presents the Athenians as fighting for Greek freedom and Spartans as acting “contrary to oaths and covenants.” This retrospective vision of the King’s Peace as proclaiming the freedom of the Greeks has been shared by modern authors as well. As a result, according to Diodoros, Chios, Byzantium, Rhodes, and Mytilene turned from Sparta to Athens, along with more and more Greek cities that were eager to follow the Athenians. The latter used this opportunity formally to establish the Second Athenian Confederacy. Therefore, the words of Diodoros have been interpreted as referring directly to the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy, which has been dated either before the attack of Sphodrias, that is, in line with the account of Diodoros, or, in the traditional view, after this attack. Indeed, none of these reconstructed events precludes the idea that the Second Athenian Confederacy was already “in the works” before Sphodrias’s attack, whereas the decree of Aristotle, or the “charter” of the Confederacy, could

144. Isocr. 14.17; Diod. 15.28.2. See Seager, “Balance,” 47, 49–50. 145. R&O 31 (= IG II 107 = Tod, GHI 131 = Syll. 164 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 51; 368–367 b.c.); see Kirchner: “intellegendum est bellum contra Lacedaemonios gestum a.378–371”; Tod, ad hoc, p. 97; T. Alfieri Tonini, “Atene e Mitileno nel 367 a.C. (IG II, 107),” Acme 42 (1989): 50; P. Debord, L’Asie Mineure au IVe siècle (412–323 a.C.). Pouvoirs et jeux politiques (Bordeaux: Ausonius; Paris: De Boccard, 1999), 289; Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 156. 146. A. Momigliano, Pace e libertà nel mondo antico. Lezioni a Cambridge: gennaio–marzo 1940, ed. R. Di Donato (Florence: Nuova Italia, 1996), 38; H. Gundel, “T. Quinctius Flamininus,” in RE 24 (1963): 1073; K. Bringmann, Studien zu den politischen Ideen des Isokrates (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1965), 45–47, 54; Seager, “Balance,” 47; Kallet-Marx, “Foundation,” 139; Stylianou, Commentary, 249–250, with Appendix 4. 147. Diod. 15.28.3. 148. Diod. 15.29.5–7. E.g., Busolt, Bund, 663, 739; Burnett, “Thebes,” 1–17; G. L. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas and Thebes,” CQ, n.s., 22 (1972): 259; Cawkwell, “Foundation,” 51–56; R. Garland, The Piraeus: From the Fifth to the First Century b.c. (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1987), 41–42; Hamilton, “Diodorus,” 95–97; cf. Cloché, La politique, 58–59, 64; A. MacDonald, in Historia 21 (1972): 38; KalletMarx, “Foundation,” 127–128, 147–149; Stylianou, Commentary, 250; M. Zahrnt, “Xenophon, Isokrates und die koine eirene,” RhM 143 (2000): 309; Hodkinson, “The Episode of Sphodrias,” 46 (with reservations). 149. E.g., Bringmann, Studien, 50; Rice, “Xenophon,” 129–130; Hamilton, Agesilaus, 169–170; Buck, Boiotia, 91–92; M. Jehne, “Iasons Symmachie mit Athen und das Mitgliederverzeichnis des 2. Athenischen Seebunds,” ZPE 89 (1991): 121; Schwenk, “Athens,” 8; Badian, “Ghost,” 89 n. 34; Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 100. An overview: F. Pownall, Lessons from the Past: The Moral Use of History in Fourth-Century Prose (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004), 67 (with notes).

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have been set up after the attack had taken place: the usual dating of this decree has been (February–)March 377. It is certainly noteworthy that Diodoros preceded his reference to Sphodrias’s attack on the Piraeus by mentioning the “common council,” into which Thebes would allegedly be admitted after this attack and which is generally understood to have been the council of the Confederacy. While his absolute chronology on these matters has been questioned, it could be that some sort of joint Greek anti-Spartan activity was being established before Sphodrias attacked, whereas the decree of Aristotle was set up in the wake of this attack. Some have expressed the opinion that the Confederacy was, in fact, based on treaties that Athens had concluded with individual city-states, and therefore even labeled Chios, Byzantium, Rhodes, and Mytilene as the founding members of the Second Athenian Confederacy. The adherents of this theory thus believe that “in 377 b.c. this core of allies expanded its ranks to form the Second Athenian Confederacy” and that “a system of alliances, with Chios, Byzantium, and various islands” developed as “the beginning of the Second Athenian Confederacy, whose origins should thus be placed in 379/8.” However, Greek texts make a clear distinction between members of the Confederacy on the one hand, and the allies of Athens (and of the Confederacy), such as Byzantium, Thebes, and Chios, on the

150. E.g., Jehne, “Überlegungen,” 466, 470 n. 27; M. Dreher, “Zum Eintritt Thebens und Methymnas in den Zweiten Athenischen Seebund,” Liverpool Classical Monthly 15.4 (1990): 51; M. Dreher, Athen und Sparta (Munich: Beck, 2001), 153; J. Buckler, “A Survey of Theban and Athenian Relations between 403 and 371 b.c.,” in Presenza e funzione della città di Tebe nella cultura greca, ed. P. A. Bernardini (Pisa and Rome: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali, 2000), 323. 151. E.g., Cloché, La politique, 59; Bengtson ad Staatsverträge 2, no. 257; Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 259. 152. Diod. 15.28.5, 15.29.6–7. See Appendix 1 for more detail. 153. E.g., A. MacDonald, in Historia 21 (1972): 39. 154. E.g., K. J. Beloch, Die Attische Politik seit Perikles (Leipzig: Teubner, 1884), 133–134: Athens’ alliance with Thebes meant Thebes’ entrance into the Confederacy; W. Judeich, Kleinasiatische Studien (Marburg: Elwert, 1892), 266–267; Busolt, Bund, 684, 743; Cloché, La politique, 59; J. Buckler, in Historia 20 (1971): 506–508; Hamilton, Agesilaus, 179–180; Hamilton, “Diodorus,” 98, 100; S. Perlman, “Greek Diplomatic Tradition and the Corinthian League of Philip of Macedon,” Historia 34 (1985): 159; P. Cartledge, Agesilaos and the Crisis of Sparta (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987), 375–376. See also Radicke, Rede, 11; Schwenk, “Athens,” 8; Hamilton, “Sparta,” 55; Ruzicka, “World,” 119;” Debord, L’Asie Mineure, 283–287; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 312 n. 32; cf. Pistorius, Hegemoniestreben, 165–166. 155. V. Ehrenberg, in Hermes 64 (1929): 322–330 = V. Ehrenberg, Polis und Imperium (Zürich and Stuttgart: Artemis, 1965), 321–327; Dreher, “Eintritt,” 51; M. Dreher, “Poleis und Nicht-Poleis im Zweiten Athenischen Seebund,” in Sources for the Ancient Greek City-State, ed. M. H. Hansen (Copenhagen: Muksgaard, 1995), 171; M. Dreher, in Symposion 1988 (1990): 167; Dreher, Athen, 153; Stylianou, Commentary, 252; Welwei, Athen, 280; Brun, Impérialisme, 97; Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 156; J. Buckler and H. Beck, Central Greece and the Politics of Power in the Fourth Century b.c. (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 37–38. 156. Buckler, “Survey,” 323; Hornblower, Greek World, 233; R. Seager, “The King’s Peace and the Second Athenian Confederacy,” in CAH 6 (1994): 166–167.

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other, as we can see in (i) the treaty of an alliance between Athens and Byzantium: “[L]et the Byzantines be allies of the Athenians and other allies; let them have the alliance similar to the Chians”; and (ii) the decree of Aristotle: “[I]f any of the Greeks or of the barbarians living in Europe or of the islanders, who are not the King’s, wishes to be an ally of the Athenians and their allies, he may be—being free and autonomous, being governed under whatever form of government he wishes, neither receiving a garrison nor submitting to a governor nor paying tribute, on the same terms as the Chians and the Thebans and other allies.” This distinction between the two groups of allies resembles the division into “subject” and “autonomous” Athenian allies as seen in the time of the Peloponnesian war. The same distinction survived until Philip II’s ultimate victory over the Greeks at Chaeronea: we still see “Athens and allies” making a treaty of alliance with the Arcadians, Achaeans, Eleans, and Phliasians in the late 360s and with Eretria in the late 340s. It would be safer, therefore, to interpret Diodoros’s words as broadly referring to those cities that preferred to follow Athens against Sparta. The decree of Aristotle had the same disclaimer as Athens’ treaty with Chios from 384–383. Both documents not only distinguished between members of the Second Athenian Confederacy and allies of Athens and the Confederacy, as seen above, but also claimed to observe the principles of the King’s Peace by guaranteeing “freedom and autonomy”—both to members of the Second Athenian Confederacy and to allies of Athens and the Confederacy The proceedings of the Second Athenian Confederacy were probably modeled on those of the King’s Peace, and some have even interpreted the Second Athenian Confederacy as a “Common Peace” and claimed that freedom and autonomy of Greek cities was “the confederacy’s fundamental aim.”

157. IG II 41 (GHI 121 = Syll. 146 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 256).4–7 (378 b.c.; my translation). 158. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).15–25 (377 b.c.; trans. in R&O 22). 159. A similar opinion: J. Cargill, The Second Athenian League: Empire or Free Alliance? (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1981), 68–69; cf. Seager, “Confederacy,” 170, on “allies of Athens who were never confederacy members.” Pace Busolt, Bund, 684; Judeich, Studien, 266–267; Pistorius, Hegemoniestreben, 23. 160. E.g., Thuc. 6.85.2 and 7.57.3 (see nn. 36 and 37 above). 161. R&O 41 (= IG II 112 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 290) (c. 362–361); IG II 230 (= Staatsverträge 2, no. 340) (341 b.c.); see G. L. Cawkwell, “Aeschines and the Peace of Philocrates,” RÉG 73 (1960): 433–434. 162. The organization of the Second Athenian Confederacy: Diod. 15.28.3–4. 163. R&O 20 (= IG II 34 = GHI 118 = Syll. 142 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 248).17–23 (see n. 119 above). 164. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).7–20 (377 b.c.). 165. As G. L. Cawkwell, “The King’s Peace,” CQ, n.s., 31 (1981): 71. 166. Perlman, “Tradition,” 159–163, and Seager, “Confederacy,” 169, respectively.

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The newly liberated Thebes was the other major anti-Spartan locus in Greece. The Thebans were obviously interested in restoring their control over Boeotia, to which task they immediately turned—after Pelopidas and his companions liberated Thebes in 379–378, the Thebans (unsuccessfully) attacked Thespiae in early 378 and proceeded to recover Boeotian cities. The Theban control over at least some part of Boeotia was reestablished very quickly: Diodoros refers to the “alliance of the Boeotians,” undoubtedly refounded and led by the Thebans, even prior to Sphodrias’s attack on the Piraeus. According to Diodoros and the decree of Aristotle, at that time the Thebans were allied with the Second Athenian Confederacy and, therefore, were not counted among its members. Diodoros says that the Thebans were admitted into the common council (epi to koinon synedrion) of the Second Athenian Confederacy after the attack of Sphodrias. The traditional interpretation of Diodoros’s words has been that Thebes thus became a member of the Second Athenian Confederacy. This interpretation, however, should be abandoned: neither the words of Diodoros nor the few other pieces of evidence that have been adduced to that end point to Thebes as a member of this Athenian military alliance (see Appendix 1). The exact date of the restoration of the Boeotian Federation has been debated, with suggested dates including 379–378, 378–374, the summer of 373, and even after the battle of Leuctra. This moment is unlikely to be established for certain, both because our evidence is quite limited and because the restoration of the Federation was a process that took place over time. No help comes from the evidence about the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy or the restoration of the boeotarchy. As for the first, Thebes did not participate in the Second Confederacy, and any chronological considerations that have been built on this

167. Xen. Hellen. 5.4.2–9; Plut. Pelop. 8–11, 13.1; Nepos, Epam. 10.3. 168. Thespiae: Diod. 15.27.4; Xen. Hellen. 5.4.14–18, 46. Cities: Xen. Hellen. 5.4.36, 6.1.1. Cf. Isocr. 14.8–9, 35. 169. Diod. 15.28.1: οἱ μὲν Βοιωτοὶ .  .  . κοινὴν συμμαχίαν ποιησάμενοι. As already Stern, “Geschichte,” 88. 170. Diod. 15.28.5; IG II 40 and 43 (= R&O 22 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).74–75, 79 (378–377 b.c.). Diod. 15.29.7. Cf. Burnett, “Thebes,” 4–10: just before Sphodrias’s attack on the Piraeus. 171. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 275–276 (see Appendix 1); S. C. Bakhuizen, in Phoenix 48.4 (1994): 307–330; A. J. S. Spawforth, “Boeotia and Boeotian Confederacy,” in OCD, 247; Th. Corsten, Vom Stamm zum Bund: Gründung und territoriale Organisation griechischer Bundesstaaten (Munich: Oberhummer Gesellschaft, 1999), 34–39, 47. 172. P.Cloché, Thèbes de Béotie: des origines à la conquête romaine (Namur: Secrétariat des publications, 1952), 121, 125, 134; Stern, “Geschichte,” 90; Bringmann, Studien, 48. 173. Seager, “Confederacy,” 176–178. 174. A. Aymard, Le monde grec au temps de Philippe II de Macédoine et d’Alexandre le Grand: 359–323 av. J.-C. (Paris: Centre de Documentation universitaire, 1976), 10–11.

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assumption are totally unfounded. As for the second, the restoration of the boeotarchy most likely also happened in stages, which would have reflected the restoration of Theban control over Boeotia: the evidence from the latter half of the fifth century and early fourth century indicates the presence of eleven boeotarchs, whereas the four boeotarchs that we see in 378 are thought to have been established solely by the city of Thebes. The same could still be true, at least in the opinion of Sordi, for the seven boeotarchs that have been documented at and after the battle of Leuctra. But even if the “restoration” of the Boeotian Federation with seven boeotarchs happened as a one-time event in 379, the resurrected Federation was not of the same size as before it fell to the Spartans. The simple fact that we again hear about the boeotarchs does not in itself indicate that the Boeotian Federation had been restored in the same form it had held before the King’s Peace. It would not be correct to judge solely by numbers because, among other things, it is not certain what basis was used for electing the boeotarchs, or if this basis remained the same after the Boeotian Federation reemerged following the liberation of Thebes. The evidence that we have, however, suggests that even by 371 the Thebans had not yet restored their control over all of Boeotia. Still, with more and more Greek states falling away from Sparta and going over to the Athenians, who now had their own Confederacy; with the might of Thebes being resurrected and the Boeotian Federation once again in place and growing to its former size; and with an ongoing war against the alliance of Thebes and Athens,

175. See Appendix 1 (with n. 32 on the use of such evidence for dating the restoration of the Boeotian Federation, and of the boeotarchy in particular, to after the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy). 176. E.g., Hellen. Oxyrh., London fr. 11.3; Thuc. 4.91; H. Swoboda, in Klio 10 (1910): 323–324; Sordi, Scritti, 316–317; G. Mafodda, Il koinon beotico in età arcaica e classica: Storia ed istituzioni (Rome: Bretschneider, 2000), 89–92; M. Bertazzoli, “Tebe e la beotarchia federale,” in Giornata tebana, ed. F. Cordano (Milan: CUEM, 2002), 120; S. L., Larson, Tales of Epic Ancestry: Boiotian Collective Identity in the Late Archaic and Early Classical Periods (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 172–173 (on the difficulty of interpreting the rôle and functions of this position in the sixth and fifth centuries). 177. E.g., Buckler, “Boiotarchia,” 56–57; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 87–98; cf. Paus. 10.20.3. 178. M. Sordi, “La restaurazione della lega beotica,” Athenaeum, n.s., 51 (1973): 81; Bertazzoli, “Tebe,” 120; cf. S. Fuscagni, in Rendiconti Istituto Lombardo, Cl. di Lettere 106 (1972): 423, 429. 179. Diod. 15.52.1; Paus. 9.13.7; Sordi, “Restaurazione,” 81. 180. Sordi, Scritti, 371. 181. Esp. J. H. Thiel, “De synoecismo Boeotiae post annum 379 peracto,” Mnemosyne, n.s., 54 (1926): 25 (who pointed not only to the change in the number of the boeotarchs, from eleven to seven, but also to the different method of their election, at the general popular assembly), and H. Beck, “Thebes, the Boiotian League, and the ‘Rise of Federalism’ in Fourth Century Greece,” in Presenza e funzione della città di Tebe nella cultura greca, ed. P. A. Bernardini (Pisa and Rome: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali, 2000), 334–335.

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the Spartans found themselves in a difficult situation. They had to offer a better treatment to their own allies. The Spartan policy toward allies is thought to become more moderate, judging on the basis of a change in Spartan military organization from 377 and Sparta’s two reforms of the Peloponnesian League in 383–377. Most important, the Spartans realized that the King’s Peace no longer worked. The new Peace was agreed upon in Sparta in 375. The Peace of 375 was presented as a renewal of the King’s Peace. Like the latter, the new Peace was initiated by the Persian King  The Peace of 375 has created a few problems, one of which is that this Peace was based on the principles of both autonomia and eleutheria, even though, as we have seen, the King’s Peace did not use the slogan of freedom. For example, Isocrates referred to the Peace of 375 in his Plataicus, when praising Athens not only for defending its own freedom and that of its allies in 378–375 but also for defending those who had been deprived of their autonomy “in violation of the oaths and covenants.” Earlier in the same text, the Plataeans complained that they did not partake in the “common freedom,” in spite of the prevailing “peace,” referring to the Peace of 375. For this reason, presenting the Peace of 375 as a faithful replica of the King’s Peace has furthered the perception of the latter by some authors, both ancient and modern, as already including the slogan of freedom, which, certainly, evolved from a later vision. Another problem posed by the Peace of 375 was that, according to the words of Diodoros and Cornelius Nepos, the Spartans recognized the supremacy of Athens on the sea in the Peace of 375. These words have always been interpreted as Sparta’s 182. Diod. 15.30.1–2, 31.1–2 and Stylianou, Commentary, 229, 281–285. 183. T. T. B. Ryder, “Spartan Relations with Persia after the King’s Peace: A Strange Story in Diodorus 15.9,” CQ, n.s., 13 (1963): 108–109, with reference to Sparta’s treatment of Phlius and Olynthus. But see Rice, “Agesilaus,” 171–179, with a more complex vision of this problem. 184. Rhodes, History, 250; E. Baltrusch, Sparta: Geschichte, Gesellschaft, Kultur (Munich: Beck, 1998), 105. 185. The choice between 375 or 374 makes no difference to the present examination, which adheres to 375 as the more traditional dating: e.g., Buckler, Greece, 259; V. J. Gray, “The Years 375 to 371 b.c.: A Case Study in the Reliability of Diodorus Siculus and Xenophon,” CQ, n.s., 30 (1980): 308, 315; Stylianou, Commentary, 349–351; V. Parker, “Ephorus and Xenophon on Greece in the Years 375–372 b.c.,” Klio 83 (2001): 363–366. 186. A. Momigliano, Terzo Contributo alla Storia degli Studi Classici e del Mondo antico (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1966), 437; F. Hampl, Die Griechischen Staatsverträge des 4. Jahrhunderts v. Christi Geb. (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1938), 13–14; S. Accame, La lega ateniese del sec. IV a.C. (Rome: Signorelli, 1941), 146, 153; G. L. Cawkwell, “Notes on the Failure of the Second Athenian Confederacy,” JHS 101 (1981): 43; Ryder, Eirene, 63; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 303, 308–309, 321; Briant, Histoire, 672; Schwenk, “Athens,” 24; Hamilton, “Sparta,” 55; Dreher, Athen, 155–156; Rhodes, History, 231. 187. FGrH 328 (Philochoros) F 151; Diod. 15.38.1; cf. Nepos, Timoth. 2; Paus. 9.13.2. Artaxerxes II’s initiative: Diod. 15.38.1. 188. Isocr. 14.17, 14.5. Pace Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 113, who thought that the Peace of Antalcidas was implied, because he misinterpreted the nature of the Peace of 375 (see next note).

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acknowledgment of the Second Athenian Confederacy. However, this interpretation can be countered on several grounds. First, an author from such a late time period as Nepos can hardly be considered an independent authority, whereas Diodoros supplied this information together with a reference indicating that the Thebans did not participate in the Peace of 375. This reference explains why, in the words of Diodoros, Athens and Sparta “yielded one to the other”: they preferred to cooperate with each other in the face of the rising might of the Thebans. But some say that while speaking about the Theban abstention from the Peace of 375, Diodoros “telescoped” the subsequent Sparta Peace of 371, in which the Thebans indeed did not participate. Others have criticized this view by arguing that Diodoros either “badly confuses this treaty and the next” or misinterprets his main source, the text of Ephoros. The latter argument has raised the important issues of the reliability of Diodoros’s evidence in general, and his use of Ephoros in particular. But even those who have accepted Diodoros’s idea about the rapprochement of Sparta and Athens, including the “acknowledgment” of the Second Athenian Confederacy by Sparta, at the same time reject his words about Thebes’ abstention from the Peace of 375, thus undermining Diodoros’s overall interpretation of this Peace. It is clear that the acknowledgment of Thebes’ participation in the Peace of 375 thus denies the reliability of Diodoros’s evidence and, therefore, implies that Boeotian cities were required to swear to this Peace

189. Diod. 15.38.4; Nepos, Timoth. 2.1–2. See Beloch, Politik, 142; Busolt, Bund, 780–781; Judeich, Studien, 17; Parke, “Development,” 75; Bengtson, Geschichte, 276; H.-J. Gehrke, Jenseits von Athen und Sparta: Das Dritte Griechenland und seine Staatenwelt (Munich: Beck, 1986), 72; Cartledge, Agesilaos, 378; Badian, “Ghost,” 92; Buck, Boiotia, 101; Buckler, Greece, 261; Stylianou, Commentary, 168, 272; Welwei, Athen, 283; Cawkwell, Wars, 182; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 41. Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 110, went much further, asserting that in 375 “the Athenians were appointed custodians of the Peace in place of the Spartans.” 190. Diod. 15.38.2–4; cf. Xen. Hellen. 6.2.1. 191. Busolt, Bund, 773–782; Stern, “Geschichte,” 94–99; Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 394–395; S. Lauffer, “Die Diodordublette XV 38 = 50 über die Friedensschlüsse zu Sparta 374 und 371 v.Chr.,” Historia 8 (1959): 315–348, followed by J. Roy, “Diodorus Siculus XV 40: The Peloponnesian Revolutions of 374 b.c.,” Klio 55 (1973): 136–137. 192. Rhodes, History, 231, and Stylianou, Commentary, 321–326, respectively. See also A. G. Roos, “The Peace of Sparta of 374 b.c.,” Mnemosyne 2 (1949): 269–271; Parker, “Ephorus,” 364. 193. E.g., R. Drews, in AJP 83 (1962): 383–392; A. Andrewes, in The Craft of the Ancient Historian: Essays in Honor of Ch. G. Starr, ed. J. W. Eadie and J. Ober (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1985), 189–197; G. Schepens, “Historiographical Problems in Ephorus,” in Historiographia antiqua: Commentationes Lovanienses in honorem W. Peremans septuagenarii editae (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1977), 101–102; Pownall, Lessons, 117–119, 139 (with n. 75); cf. D. Ambaglio, “Introduzione alla Biblioteca storica di Diodoro,” in D. Ambaglio et al., Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca storica. Commento storico. Introduzione generale (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 2004), 25: “the research has quickly revealed [Diodoros’s] dependence on books xi–xvi of Ephoros, but it is not immediately obvious if the text supports [this view],” 37. 194. E.g., Busolt, Bund, 773–774; Parke, “Development,” 75; T. T. B. Ryder, “Athenian Foreign Policy and the Peace-Conference at Sparta in 371 b.c.,” CQ, n.s., 13 (1963): 237–238; Buckler, Greece, 260–262.

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individually. In addition, Athens and her allies swore individually to the Sparta Peace of 371. Unless the position of the Second Confederacy had deteriorated considerably from 375 to 371, and this was hardly the case (even though Athens and her Confederacy experienced some problems during this time), one should expect that the Athenian allies swore individually to the Peace of 375 as well, which Diodoros also implied elsewhere. Second, the Athens Peace of 371, which warranted the Second Athenian Confederacy, was not recognized by the Spartans, even after their defeat at Leuctra. There is hardly a chance that the Spartans ever acknowledged the Second Athenian Confederacy during the Spartan political and military domination over Greece, namely, at the Peace of 375 and at the Sparta Peace of 371. There is no valid reason, therefore, to think that the Peace of 375, which was arranged by the Spartans in the likeness of the King’s Peace, recognized the equality of Sparta and Athens by acknowledging the Second Athenian Confederacy. A more balanced approach has been offered by Robin Seager, who thought that it was unlikely that “the peace contained a clause to this effect. The basis of the belief was probably no more than a tacit acceptance by Sparta that the continuing existence of the confederacy did not constitute an infringement of the autonomy clause.” The Peace of 375 probably reflected the Athenian naval supremacy as a matter of fact, as was also noted by Apollodoros in his speech against Neaera: in the 370s, the Athenians “ruled the sea.” Hence, Diodoros could have also projected, retrospectively to 375, the situation that emerged when Sparta and Athens concluded a military alliance in 369, which indeed, in a sense, divided their responsibilities on the land and at sea, respectively. Yet another problem accentuated by the Peace of 375 is that, even though equality between Sparta and Athens was something still to be attained, there were important irreversible changes in Greek politics that needed to be accommodated. The Athenians were now concluding treaties on behalf of “Athens and the allies,” thus declaring the existence of Athens’ military alliance as a matter of

195. E.g., Hampl, Staatsverträge, 13–14; Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 258, 260; Hamilton, Agesilaus, 190–191; M. H. Munn, The Defense of Attica: The Dema Wall and the Boiotian War of 378–375 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1993), 175; Buck, Boiotia, 101 (as an ally of Athens), 102–103; Wickersham, Hegemony, 104. 196. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19 (see n. 214 below); Diod. 15.50.4. Pace E. Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1958), 5:396. 197. E.g., Busolt, Bund, 737–782; Cloché, La politique, 73–93. 198. R. Sealey, in Phoenix 11 (1957): 109–111, with entertaining parallels from modern history. 199. Diod. 15.38.3–4. 200. Seager, “Confederacy,” 167. 201. [Dem.] 59.36. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.14; Diod. 15.67.1 (see n. 240 below).

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fact. Isocrates’s Plataicus, written after the fall of Plataea to Thebes in 373, spoke of Greek cities that had been “liberated” by Athens as having a “share in the council (synedrion) and in freedom (eleutheria).” The former word referred to the Second Confederacy, the latter to the Peace. Whether this was the Peace of 375 or the Sparta Peace of 371 depended on when the Plataicus was written: the usual dating for the Plataicus has been in the period from 373 to 371, that is, from the fall of Plataea to the battle of Leuctra, which leaves open a possibility that this speech could have been written at the time when the Sparta Peace of 371 was either being arranged or already in place. However, irrespective of precisely when it was written, the Plataicus offers no grounds for thinking that “not only the major states, such as Athens, Sparta, and Thebes were signatories to the treaty, but also smaller states, as Isocrates’s oration proves with regard to the Plataeans.” The Thebans, who continued to reestablish their own Federation in Boeotia, were becoming exceedingly powerful, threatening not only Sparta but also other Greek cities, including Athens. The growing might of Thebes was one of the considerations that led the Athenians to join in the Peace of 375, even though this meant that the Athenians would swear oaths alongside other Confederates, thus eliminating (at least in theory) the supremacy of Athens over her allies. Finally, the Peace of 375 appeared to be more than a mere renewal of the King’s Peace. In the words of Diodoros, the new Peace included not only the “autonomy clause” but also the “garrison clause,” which is an explicit demand that all garrisons were to be removed from Greek cities. The latter clause would survive, in a

202. E.g., R&O 24 (= IG II 96 = GHI 126 = Syll. 150 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 262 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 48).9 (alliance of Athens with Corcyra, Acarnania, and Cephallenia, 375); IG II 97 (= Syll. 151 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 263 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 49).33–35 (the oath of Corcyra, 375–374). Cawkwell, “Notes,” 43. 203. Isocr. 14.18 and 21. 204. See also Dem. 14.3: the Thebans sacked Plataea in “the time of peace.” 205. E.g., Isocrates I., trans. D. Mirhady and Y. Lee Too (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2000), 10. For 373: Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 421–455, followed by Roos, “Peace,” 273. 206. For the Plataicus as written shortly before or along with the Sparta Peace of 371: G. Mathieu, in Isocrates. Discours, vol. 2, ed. G. Mathieu and É. Brémond (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1961), 71; V. G. Mandilaras, in Isocrates, Opera Omnia, vol. 1, ed. V. G. Mandilaras (Leipzig: Saur, 2003), 3. 207. Hamilton, Agesilaus, 192. 208. Xen. Hellen. 6.2.1. As Cloché, Thèbes, 126–127, who dated both the resurrection of the Boeotian Federation and the next Peace to 374; Roos, “Peace,” 265–266. The growing might of the Thebans explains their original refusal to swear to this Peace alongside other Boeotian cities: e.g., Diod. 15.38.3–4: see n. 199 above and Appendix 1. 209. Diod. 15.38.3–4.

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modified form, in later treaties of Peace as well, so that both Greeks and some modern authors in retrospect thought of the “garrison clause” as allegedly already present in the King’s Peace. The “garrison clause” emerged because the “autonomy clause” alone was no longer enough to do away with military alliances. The “garrison clause” of the Peace of 375 was unlikely, however, to enforce political stability: Plato’s Republic, written in 373, still treats war as a “normal incident of political life.” The most visible “troublemakers” were the Thebans, whose activities eventually led to the breakdown of the Peace of 375. The year 371 produced two treaties of Peace. The first, the Sparta Peace, came before the Spartan defeat by the Thebans at Leuctra. Xenophon says that Sparta swore to that Peace on behalf of herself and her allies, while Athens and her allies swore individually. We are encouraged to think that the same had happened at the Peace of 375 as well. In the words of Diodoros, the Sparta Peace was concluded “in accordance with the covenants that the Greeks had formerly made.” Xenophon appears to be more specific, by mentioning the “autonomy clause,” the “demilitarization clause,” and the “garrison clause.” The presence of the “garrison clause” indicates that the Sparta Peace followed along the lines of the Peace of 375, which was the first Peace to have this clause. But the Sparta Peace of 371 went one step further, by introducing the “demilitarization clause,” which is disbandment of landed armies and naval forces. As with the “garrison clause” and the “territorial clause,” the “demilitarization clause” would also become associated with the King’s Peace in retrospect. However, the Thebans refused to join the Sparta Peace, thus openly challenging Spartan supremacy. We have two accounts of what happened. One of them is from Xenophon, who merely says that Agesilaos refused the Thebans’ wish to swear on behalf of Boeotian cities. Xenophon’s information implies that the requirement was the same as in the earlier treaties of Peace, that

210. The Peace of 375: Diod. 15.38.2; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 31; Ryder, “Policy,” 237; Cawkwell, “King’s Peace,” 73–76; Debord, L’Asie Mineure, 288. The Sparta Peace: Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18; Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 35–37. 211. E.g., Isocr. 8.16 (together with the “territorial clause”); Buckler, Greece, 172, 259. See Appendix 4. 212. Plato Rep. 2, 373e; 2, 734c; 2, 374d; 3, 404b; 4, 422d, etc., who emphasized the significant rôle of wars in his ideal communities: 3, 416de; 4, 422a; 4, 423a; 5, 452a; 5, 456a; 5, 460a; 7, 525c. G. Murray, in JHS 64 (1944): 2. 213. Esp. Cawkwell, Wars, 184–185, 194 n. 19. 214. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19. The Sparta Peace as authorized by the King: D.H. Lys. 12. 215. Diod. 15.50.4; Xen Hellen. 6.3.18. 216. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.35 with Stylianou, Commentary, 166–167. But see Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 36: the “inclusion in the Peace of 371 of a demobilization clause [sic] does not require us to postulate it for the King’s Peace of 387/6.” 217. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19–20.

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is, the King’s Peace and the Peace of 375: all cities were supposed to swear individually. According to Plutarch, when facing the demand of Agesilaos to give autonomia to the cities of Boeotia, Epaminondas had in turn demanded that the Spartans give autonomia to the cities of Laconia. But, in the words of Plutarch, Epaminondas made his speech on behalf of all Greece, thus employing the slogan of autonomia as a propaganda tool. This debate would continue even after the Spartans had started their preparations for a war against Thebes, and we still see this theme in the speech of the Athenian Autocles at the negotiations in 371, as pointing to the inconsistency of the Spartans who accused the Thebans of depriving Boeotian cities of their autonomia but themselves deprived Thebes of autonomy by the occupation of the Cadmea. Each of these two stories shows that the slogan of autonomia was purposefully used to weaken the enemy by undermining the effectiveness of its military alliance, which was, of course, a continuation of the policy that we see already in the fifth century. Not much information has survived about the organization of the resurrected Boeotian Federation, but its basic form has been described by Hans Beck as if the Thebans “dissolved the old syntelies and in return extended their own synteleia as far as the boundaries of Boiotia,” so that they established a new “panBoiotian structure, which was under their own hegemony, exclusively.” This description, even if tentative, reflects the most important principle of political arrangements by major powers in Greece at the time: local alliances were subverted, in the name of “freedom,” and replaced by individual membership in the alliance presided over by the major power. It is also clear that the actual status of Greek cities was of no concern to major political players: the “autonomy clause” neither had, nor could have, the purpose of protecting the autonomia of Greek cities as such. Pausanias says that an altercation, similar to the one between Agesilaos and Epaminondas, took place when the peace of Antalcidas was being discussed: Epaminondas agreed that Boeotian cities would swear to the peace individually, but only if Laconian cities were allowed to do the same. It could be that Pausanias projected the events of 371 back into the past. However, the fact that he connected the peace of Antalcidas with the use and misuse of the slogan of

218. Plut. Ages. 27.4–28.2. 219. Diod. 15.51.4; Xen. Hellen. 6.3.7–9. Cf. a similar speech by Epaminondas before the battle of Leuctra: Nepos, Epam. 6.4. For this contrast between Plut. Ages. 28.1–2 and Paus. 9.13.2, see also n. 53 above. 220. Beck, “Thebes,” 338. For this use of “freedom”: e.g., Isocr. 14.23–24. 221. Pace R. Urban, Der Königsfrieden von 387/386 v. Chr. Vorgeschichte, Zustandenkommen, Ergebnis und politische Umsetzung (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1991), 153, 169–170; Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 264–269; J. Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), 204. 222. Paus. 9.13.2 (see n. 53 above).

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autonomy is revealing: the major, if not the only, purpose of all treaties of Peace so far had been to maintain political balance in Greece by depriving leading political powers of a chance to establish control over other cities, which usually took the form of military alliances. Therefore, when the Spartans went against Thebes in 371, once again acting as if in defense of the autonomia of Greek cities, their main aim was to upset the Boeotian Federation, whereas the Thebans were now fighting for their eleutheria, that is, freedom from external domination, which, in practical terms, meant maintaining Theban control over Boeotian cities. The ensuing conflict ended up with the famous victory of the Thebans in the battle at Leuctra, which instantly sealed their rule over the cities of Boeotia. Other consequences of their unexpected victory were similarly important. In a reversal of the situation, the Thebans arrived in the Peloponnese, claiming they were there to protect the autonomy of Mantinea and other Arcadian cities, and using the same slogan of autonomy in Thebes’ own interest. If the Thebans defended the autonomia of the Greeks only by words before the battle of Leuctra, they now claimed to be the champions of Greek autonomia. In this way, the Thebans followed the Athenians by contesting the position that had been previously occupied by the Spartans. This new situation was well reflected by the inscription on the base of Epaminondas’s statue, which is said to have included the following two lines: “By the arms of Thebes was Megalopolis encircled with walls, and all Greece won independence and freedom.” The newly built walls of Mantinea transformed it into a “single city,” thus ending the period when the Mantineans lived in villages, which was another outcome of the King’s Peace. Here, too, the Boeotians were using the slogan of freedom. The situation with Megalopolis should have been the same: during the period of Spartan domination, Megalopolis was also divided into villages. But, as the Spartans had been doing while using the slogan of autonomy after the King’s Peace, the victorious Thebans proceeded to change local constitutions, even if unsuccessfully in the end, in Achaean cities in the

223. Xen. Hellen. 6.4.3; Plut. Pelop. 20.2. 224. The date: Plut. Ages. 28.5; Cloché, La politique, 94 (6 July); H. Beister, “Untersuchungen zu der Zeit der Thebanischen Hegemonie” (diss., Bonn: Habelt, 1970), 71–72; Buckler, Greece, 289–295. 225. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.22–25, 6.5.33–36; Plut. Ages. 31.1; cf. 34.3. C. A. Roebuck, “A History of Messenia from 369 to 146 b.c.” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1941), 31–34. 226. Paus. 9.15.6: Θήβης δ’ὅπλοισιν Μεγάλη πόλις ἐστεφάνωται, αὐτόνομος δ᾽Ἑλλὰς πασ᾿ ἐν ἐλευθερίῃ. On the terms used in this epigram: N. Luraghi, The Ancient Messenians: Constructions of Ethnicity and Memory (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 220. 227. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.3; cf. 5.2.7. The slogan of freedom: Funke, “Between Mantinea and Leuctra,” 1–6.

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Peloponnese. Other Greeks had a chance to form, or resurrect, military alliances, such as the Arcadian League, which has been dated to 371 or 370 (i.e., in connection with the refoundation of Megalopolis), and the Aetolian League. The Athenians, too, seized the opportunity and invited Greek cities to join in a new Peace. This Athens Peace of 371 has been considered a renewed Peace, in the sense that it replaced the King’s Peace (or its subsequent reeditions in the form of the Peace of 375 and the Sparta Peace of 371), so that the Athenians became champions of the King’s Peace, or, in other words, of Greek autonomy and freedom. The latter opinion is certainly correct. However, the Athens Peace was in fact a new Peace of its own: it coexisted with the Sparta Peace of 371 and the Peace of 375. The existence of more than one Peace at the same time has already been implied by those who suggested that the Spartan embassy to Athens in 369 (see Appendix 2) referred to the oaths of the Sparta Peace. The Spartans did not acknowledge the Athens Peace, and the Thebans, who stood out of both the Sparta Peace and the Athens Peace, had last sworn to the Peace of 375. Since the Spartans did not join the Athens Peace, in 369 they referred to the oaths of the Sparta Peace, which, therefore, they still thought to be valid, whereas Isocrates’s speeches accused the Thebans of acting contrary to “oaths and covenants,” with reference to the Peace of 375 (see Appendix 2). Thus the year 371 marked a new development. The Peace did not determine the political situation, but a change in the political situation brought to life a new Peace. Any major political power could now have its own Peace, which would not only acknowledge its military alliance but also undermine those of its enemies. In the

228. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.43 with further evidence in Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 142–143. 229. E.g., Xen. Hellen. 6.5.6, 6.5.22, 7.1.38; Paus. 8.27.8. 230. E.g., F. Hiller von Gaertringen, “Arkadia,” in RE 2.1 (1896): 1120; S. Dušanić, The Arcadian League of the Fourth Century (Belgrade: University of Belgrade Press, 1970), 281–286; Bengtson, Geschichte, 280; C. Lienau and E. Olshausen, “Arkades, Arkadia,” in NPauly 2 (1997): 1–3. 231. E.g., Bengtson, Geschichte, 279; D. Strauch, “Aitoloi, Aitolia,” in NPauly 1 (1996): 376. 232. The debate on who in Athens initiated the new Peace: S. Dušanić, in RÉG 92 (1979): 332–335. 233. Hampl, Staatsverträge, 16; Accame, La lega, 153; Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 174 (“renewal”), 175 (“a new adjustment”); Cawkwell, “Notes,” 45; K. Moritani, “Koinē Eirenē: Control, Peace, and Autonomia in Fourth-Century Greece,” in Forms of Control and Subordination in Antiquity, ed. T. Yuge and M. Doi (Tokyo and Leiden: Brill, 1988), 575; Wickersham, Hegemony, 97–98, 106; Seager, “Confederacy,” 185; Badian, “Ghost,” 93–94; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 312, 320; Buckler, Greece, 527; Funke, “Staatenwelt,” 429. 234. Esp. Stern, “Geschichte,” 150–151, and, e.g., D. M. Lewis, “The Athens Peace of 371,” in D. M. Lewis, Selected Papers in Greek and Near Eastern History, ed. P. J. Rhodes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 30. But it is hard for me to agree with his idea that Xenophon mentioned the oaths of the Sparta Peace in Hellen. 6.5.36 and those of the Athens Peace in Hellen. 6.5.37. Pace, e.g., Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 174: “the treaty concluded at the congress in Sparta  . . . had lost all value after Sparta’s crushing defeat.”

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words of Xenophon, “[T]he Athenians taking thought of the fact that the Peloponnesians still counted themselves bound to follow the Spartans, and that the latter were not yet in the same situation to which they had brought the Athenians, invited to Athens all the cities which wished to participate in the peace that the King had sent down.” Marta Sordi, among others, found this phrase enigmatic “because the premise does not justify the consequence, and the motive of the Athenians’ initiative remains incomprehensible.” Her interpretations of this phrase are hardly the only ones possible. It might as well be suggested that the Athenians expressly wished to put Sparta in the same position that they themselves had occupied before the battle of Leuctra, that is, when Athens swore to the Sparta Peace alongside her allies, whereas the Spartans made an oath on behalf of themselves and their allies. Now, having reserved a special place for the Athenian Second Confederacy as a whole, Athens expected all other Greek cities, including Spartan allies, to swear individually. It follows that after the battle of Leuctra, the Athenians were claiming the same position as had been occupied by the Spartans. Acting along the same lines and with the backing of the King the Thebans (unsuccessfully) tried to establish their own new Peace in 367, undoubtedly with the aims of legitimatizing their control of the Boeotian Federation and of undermining the military alliances of their main rivals. According to the provisions of this Peace, as revealed by the Thebans to the King the Spartans were to give up Messenia and the Athenians were required to draw their ships onto shore. This most likely reflected the division of responsibilities between the Spartans and the Athenians, who established their alliance in 369: the Spartans had leadership on land, whereas the Athenians were dominant at sea. The attention of the Thebans

235. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.1; Sordi, Scritti, 23. 236. Sordi, Scritti, 24 n. 1, interpreted the words of Xenophon (Xen. Hellen. 6.5.1) καὶ οὔπω διακέοιντο οἱ Λακεο-αιμόνιοι ὥσπερ τοὺς Ἀθηναίους διέθεσαν as “‘so that the Spartans were not yet reduced as the Athenians had been reduced  . . .’ (with an implicit reference to the end of the Peloponnesian war and the military disaster of Aegospotami, as a consequence of which the Athenian League was dissolved).” It was originally (RFIC, n.s., 23 [1951]: 578 n. 1) phrased as follows: “‘so that the Spartans were not yet organized in the same way as the Athenians had been . . .’ (with an implicit reference to the peace of Antalcidas, which the Spartans imposed on all others but did not respect themselves).” 237. Ryder, Eirene, 74 n. 2; Tuplin, Failings, 114–115. 238. Ryder, Eirene, 80–83; H. Beister, in Boiotika: Vorträge vom 5. Internationalen Böotien Kolloquium zu Ehren von Professor Dr. Siegfried Lauffer, ed. H. Beister and J. Buckler (Munich: Maris, 1989), 149–152: Thebes had no “hegemonial aspirations” prior to the conference at Susa. 239. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.33, 36, 39–40. The failed Peace of Pelopidas: Appendix 3. Cf. Beloch, Geschichte, 3(2):241, who thought that the “Peace Conference” in Thebes (see Xen. Hellen. 7.1.33, 36, 39–40.) took place in 366–365. The plan of the Thebans to build their own navy in the 360s, which quickly happened to be abandoned (Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 180–198), could have been connected with this short-lived attempt to establish the Thebes Peace. 240. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.14 and Diod. 15.67.1. The treaty of 369 between Sparta and Athens: Appendix 2.

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to the status of Messenia is hardly surprising: this was one of the most important topics in the conflict between Sparta and Athens during the 370s, and one of the consequences of the Athenian rapprochement with Sparta was Athens’ abandonment of her “traditional protectorate” of Messenia in the 360s. More important, the activity of the Thebans made it clear that, even if they planned a renewal of the King’s Peace for all, more than one Peace was possible in Greece at the same time, thus fueling a propaganda competition using the slogan of freedom. Just like Spartan and Athenian leaders in earlier times, Epaminondas also made a speech in defense of Greek freedom, which he pronounced before the battle of Leuctra as a reminder to all the Greeks of Spartan dictatorship. Similar situations would surface in later times as well. For example, in 335 Thebes and Alexander fought against each other, with either side claiming to defend the Peace of 375 and “common peace”; in 333–332 the Persians and their local supporters briefly reestablished control over some Aegean communities and made them cancel their agreements with Alexander in favor of the “King’s Peace”; and in 315–314 both Antigonos and Ptolemy issued declarations, pledging to protect Greek freedom. As we shall see, several such occasions would take place after the coming of the Romans as well. Another new development associated with the Athens Peace was the emergence of the “sanctions clause,” which required all participants to help militarily if one of them was being attacked. According to Xenophon, the oath of the participants of the Athens Peace read as follows: “I will abide by the treaty which the King put down, and by the decrees of the Athenians and their allies. And if anybody takes the field against any one of the cities which have sworn this oath, I will come to her aid with all my strength.” It is quite possible that the “sanctions clause” emerged because the “autonomy clause” was not enough to maintain political stability in Greece, that is, for the same reason as the “garrison clause,” which we first see in the Peace of 375, and the “territorial clause,” which would be added later. The growing sophistication of Peace treaties thus came about as a direct result of necessity. However, the Athens Peace appears to have occupied a special place in this development. On the one hand, the “sanctions

241. C. Grandjean, Les Messéniens de 370/369 au 1er siècle de notre ère: Monnayage et histoire (Paris: De Boccard, 2003), 66–67; Luraghi, Ancient Messenians, 210 (with n. 5). 242. E.g., Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 320; Stylianou, Commentary, 487. 243. E.g., M. Jehne, “Formen der thebanischen Hegemonialpolitik zwischen Leuktra und Chaironeia (371–338 v.Chr.),” Klio 81 (1990): 355. 244. Nepos, Epam. 6.4. 245. See chapters 2 and 3, respectively. 246. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2.

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clause” had the same significance as the “autonomy clause”: both justified the use of force in case political and territorial stability in Greece became undermined. On the other hand, these two clauses pertained to different types of organizations: the “autonomy clause” was typical of any treaty of Peace because it maintained the balance between major powers in Greece by protecting the autonomia of all Greek states, that is, including non-signatories to the Peace, whereas the “sanctions clause” was typical for military alliances because this clause required their member states to help each other. Should we, then, follow the opinion that holds the Athens Peace, which supposedly had both clauses, to have been a mere “expansion” of the Second Confederacy? The special character of the Athens Peace reveals itself in more than one way. First of all, the Peace and the alliance were organizations that differed in content and purpose. The decree of Aristotle, or the “charter” of the Second Confederacy, asserted that this alliance conformed to the principles of the King’s Peace. According to Isocrates, after the King’s Peace was renewed in 375, the allies of Athens shared both in the “council,” that is, the Second Confederacy, and in the Peace. The Second Confederacy was thus claimed to fit within the Peace of 375 or the Sparta Peace, depending on when the Plataicus was written. However, the members of the Second Confederacy not only upheld the general principles of the King’s Peace, including the “autonomy clause,” but also pledged to protect each other by introducing the “sanctions clause.” The simultaneous presence of these two clauses meant that the Athenians were then promoting the Peace and the alliance at the same time. Second, the Athens Peace was shared neither by Sparta and her allies nor by Thebes and her allies. Other Greek cities and states, such as Elis, stayed out of this Peace as well. This situation was hardly anything new: for example, Thebes stayed out of the Sparta Peace of 371. The novelty of the situation after the battle of Leuctra was that only Athens and her allies participated in both the Second Confederacy and the new Peace. This does not mean that the Second Athenian Confederacy and the Athens Peace were the same; it only means that the

247. See H. Swoboda, “Der hellenische Bund des Jahres 371 v. Chr.,” RhM 49 (1894): 321–322, 326, 333. 248. Isocr. 14.18 (for the dating of the Plataicus, see nn. 205–206 above). 249. H. O. Raue, “Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Korinthischen Bundes” (diss., Würzburg: Triltsch, 1937), 15. Cf. a recent discussion of this document by Polly Low, Interstate Relations, 185, who used it as part of her examination of the “norm of helping the wronged” in ancient Greece, noting that the “option of not helping is removed” from the “Common Peace of 371.” What made the difference certainly was that – unlike its predecessors – the Athens Peace protected members of the military alliance. 250. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.3. 251. A summary of opinions that either completely identified or completely separated this Peace and Athens’ military alliance: H. Berve, review of the books by F. Taeger and W. Schwahn, in Gnomon 9 (1933): 309.

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members of the Second Confederacy were those who shared in the new Peace. As members of a military alliance, those who joined the Second Confederacy pledged to protect each other. Aside from recognizing the Second Athenian Confederacy, the Athens Peace also upheld the same principles that had been laid down in the King’s Peace (and its subsequent reincarnations), that is, formally claiming to protect the autonomy of all Greeks, including non-participants in the Second Confederacy and non-signatories to the Peace. The Second Confederacy and the Athens Peace were thus guided by different principles and were operating on different levels. Protecting the autonomy of all Greeks offered a casus belli in case some other major power undermined the political balance by extending its control to other Greek cities. But the difference between the alliance and the Peace remained: when the Elaeans refused to recognize the autonomy of Marganeia, Scillus, and Triphylia (because their autonomy would undermine the Elaean League, just as it had under Spartan domination), no reaction came from Athens or any other signatory to the new Peace. The reason was not that the Athens Peace “was practically defunct” but that, similar to earlier treaties of Peace, the Athens Peace as such neither did nor could have the “sanctions clause” on its own. The latter clause was characteristic only of military alliances. It is tempting to suggest that these new developments—the presence of more than one treaty of Peace at the same time and the eventual success of the Athenians in combining the “autonomy clause” of the King’s Peace with the existence of their military alliance—alarmed the Persian King who tried to renew the King’s Peace in 367, in a similar fashion to what he had done in 375 and, probably, in the case of the Sparta Peace as well. According to Diodoros, in 367, as in 375, the King initiated a renewal of Peace (the koine eirene, in the words of Diodoros) because he needed Greek mercenaries, that is, not because of the Spartan and Theban activities in the late 370s, which effectively broke down the King’s Peace.

252. Cf. Berve, review of the books by Taeger and Schwahn, 304–306, who, however, spoke about the amalgamation of “peace” and “alliance,” which eventually culminated in the Athens Peace. However, not all Greeks participated in the Athens Peace, whereas Sparta and her allies considered the Sparta Peace to be still valid (see Appendix 3). 253. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2–3. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 3.2.25 (the Spartans broke down the League of Elis in 399 b.c.) with Diod. 14.34.1: the Elaeans gave in to the Spartans in 401 by letting neighboring cities become “independent” (autonomous); Xen. Hellen. 4.2.16: the Spartans included the Marganians among their soldiers in 394, thus dealing with their city directly and refusing to recognize the authority of the Elaeans over them. 254. Buckler, Greece, 301–302. 255. See also Sordi, Scritti, 24–25; Seager, “Balance,” 55. 256. Diod. 15.70.2; 15.38.1. Moritani, “Koinē Eirenē,” 576; Buckler, Greece, 315–316 (with the date in 369–368).

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However, the presence of the “garrison clause,” which first emerged in the treaty of 375 and required all cities to be free of foreign garrisons, implies that by proposing a new Peace in 375 the King wanted to restore political stability in Greece. The same consideration could have been on his mind when he came up with similar proposals in 371 (probably) and 367 (clearly). The attempt at the revival of the King’s Peace in 367, and the negative response this attempt received from Greek cities, might have been connected with the so-called Satraps’ Revolt. For this reason, the King could indeed have needed political stability in Greece, which would have helped him procure a significant number of Greek mercenaries. This connection has remained uncertain, however, because the precise dating of the Revolt is unknown and its usual interpretation as a concerted revolt by the satraps has been questioned. If the Satraps’ Revolt supposedly started around 372 or even 370, it postdated the Peace of 375 and significantly antedated the failed Peace of 367. If the beginning of the second, and most important, phase of the Satraps’ Revolt occurred in either 368 or 366, then the date of the Revolt was not too far away from the failed attempt at Peace in 367. But if the alleged concerted action (koinopragia) of the satraps (which some have considered to be the highest point in the Revolt) happened in 362–361, and if the fragmented inscription (which has been interpreted as reflecting the appeal of the revolted satraps to the Greeks) indeed belongs to c.362–361, then all such activities considerably postdated an attempt to establish a new Common Peace in 367. In other words, no clear evidence exists to support the idea of connecting the project of this Peace with what has been generally known as the Satraps’ Revolt.

257. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18; Diod. 15.38.2. 258. The King’s support for the Sparta Peace of 371: Diod. 15.50.4; Xen. Hellen. 6.3.12. 259. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.39–40. 260. M. Weiskopf, The So-Called “Great Satraps’ Revolt”: 366–360 b.c.: Concerning Local Instability in the Achaemenid Far West (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1989), 37–38, 45–64; Briant, Histoire, 674–694. 261. C.372: Hornblower, in CAH 6 (1994): 84–85. 370: R. A. Moysey, in RÉA 91 (1989): 108; Briant, Histoire, 679; Buckler, Greece, 315. See Appendix 3. 262. E.g., Judeich, Studien, 193 (368–358); S. Hornblower, Mausolus (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1982), 172–173; S. Hornblower, in CAH 6 (1994): 85. The revolt of Datames has been dated to either 368(–367): e.g., N. V. Sekunda, in Iran 26 (1988): 44, 51 (“the first round of satrapal revolts in 368–7”), or c.370–369: e.g., R. A. Moysey, in Historia 41 (1992): 158, 164. 263. Weiskopf, The So-Called “Great Satraps’ Revolt,” 37–38, 45–64; Briant, Histoire, 674–694; Cawkwell, Thucydides, 95; Buckler, Greece, 352; Hornblower, Greek World, 259. 264. The koinopragia of the satraps: Diod. 15.90.3. The inscription: R&O 42 = IG IV 556 = GHI 145 = Syll. 182 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 292 (see nn. 271 and 304 below). This view: Radicke, Rede, 92–93, 178–179; L. Breglia Pulci Doria, “Eforo: L’ottica cumana di uno storico ‘universale,’” in Le IVème siècle av. J.-C. Approches historiographiques, ed. P. Carlier (Nancy: ADRA, 1996), 52; Stylianou, Commentary, 523. Cf. R. A. Moysey, in RÉA 91 (1989): 107–139, and in Historia 41 (1992), 158–168, who distinguished between “Datames’ rebellion” (see n. 262 above) and “the general satrapal revolt” of 362–361.

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Regardless of whether there was any connection between the Satraps’ Revolt and attempts to establish a new Peace in Greece, Diodoros says that in the early 360s (i.e., before the Thebans came up with the idea of their own Peace), the Thebans disagreed with the King’s proposal of a new Peace because they would have lost control of Boeotia. Diodoros and Xenophon also say that the Spartans did not want to relinquish their control of Messenia. Such evidence shows that the new Peace was to be based on the “autonomy clause” as well. It was too late to go back, however. Greek cities had already learned the benefits of using and abusing the “autonomy clause” and the slogan of freedom. And each major political power could (claim to) establish its own Peace, which would legitimize its own military alliance, and refuse to recognize those of its competitors on the pretext of defending the eleutheria and autonomia of the Greeks. Although the King’s Peace fulfilled its objective of keeping the Greeks out of Asia until the 330s, the King’s Peace had played out in Greece by the 360s. Such was the situation by 360–359, when Philip (II) ascended the Macedonian throne.

t he p roblem of the “ c ommon p eace” From that time—the late 360s, if we rely on the traditionally accepted dating— comes the earliest documented evidence for the use of the expression koine eirene (κοινὴ εἰρήνη) which is usually translated as “common peace.” The conventional understanding of this expression has been the peace in which all, or almost all, Greek cities participated (certainly with the exception of those subject to

265. Diod. 15.70.2; Xen. Hellen. 7.1.27; cf. Diod. 15.90.2. 266. The “autonomy clause” itself did not have to be there: a reference to the King’s Peace was enough. Cf. the oath of the participants in the Athens Peace: Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2 (see n. 246 above). 267. Cawkwell, Wars, 169. 268. See Sordi, Scritti, 27–28; Seager, “Balance,” 60–63; cf. Buckler, Greece, 350. 269. Diod. 16.2.4. This date: U. Kahrstedt, Forschungen zur Geschichte des ausgehenden fünften und des vierten Jahrhunderts (Berlin: Weidmann, 1910), 39, 48. For 360: M. B. Hatzopoulos, in Philip II, Alexander the Great and the Macedonian Heritage, ed. W. Lindsay Adams and E. N. Borza (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1982), 21–42; J. R. Ellis, “Macedon and North-west Greece,” in CAH 6 (1994): 730; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 3. For 359: Bengtson, Geschichte, 295, 301; Buckler, Greece, 385–386; Ziesmann, Autonomie und Münzprägung, 44; Rhodes, History, 236, 332; I. Worthington, Philip II of Macedonia (New Haven, Conn., and London: Yale University Press, 2008), xv; but see 21: “a date of mid- to late 360 is possible.” This debate: J. Heskel, “The Foreign Policy of Philip II down to the Peace of Philocrates” (Ph.D. diss., Harvard University, 1987), 60–61 (360); E. N. Borza, Before Alexander: Constructing Macedonian Identity (Claremont, Calif.: Regina Books, 1999), 52 (359).

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Persia). The earliest inscriptional mention of koine eirene refers to one of the treaties concluded some time after the King’s Peace, probably that of c.362–361. It is hard, however, to establish both the date of this inscription and the precise meaning that it gives to the expression koine eirene. Diodoros and many modern authors have found it possible, in retrospect, to apply the designation “common peace” to all earlier treaties of Peace, including the King’s Peace. While some have searched for the philosophical foundation of this concept, others have attempted to uncover its historical roots. For example, Bickermann thought of the King’s Peace as a “common peace” that was embedded in the Greek public international law (“Völkerrecht”). Wilcken and Heuss, who also propagated the idea of the “common peace” as an aspect of the Greek “Völkerrecht,” interpreted the King’s Peace as establishing “common Greek autonomy status” in exchange for the abandonment of the Greek cities of Asia to the Persian king. The same idea has been upheld in a new way, by denying the “technical meaning” of the koine eirene and presenting this phrase as a “descriptive” and not as a “technical” term. However, the underlying principle of this distinction remains the same: the “true” koine eirene—irrespective of whether this phrase was “descriptive” or “technical”—is expected to have extended to all or almost all Greek cities.

270. E.g., B. Keil, Eirene (Leipzig: Teubner, 1916), 16; A. Heuss, “Antigonos Monophthalmos und die griechische Städte,” Hermes 73 (1938): 157–159, 187; Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 394, 457; G. T. Griffith, “The So-Called Koine Eirene of 346 b.c.,” JHS 59 (1939): 71; V. Martin, “Le traitement de l’histoire diplomatique dans la tradition littéraire du IVme siècle avant J.-C.,” MH 1 (1944): 19, 28; T. T. B. Ryder, “The Supposed Common Peace of 366/5 b.c.,” CQ, n.s., 7 (1957): 199; E. Aucello, “La genesi della pace di Antalcida,” Helikon 5 (1965): 380; Jehne, Eirene, 111–112, 269; O. Müller, Antigonos Monophthalmos und “Das Jahr der Könige” (Bonn: Habelt, 1973), 43; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 10, 72. 271. R&O 42 = IG IV 556 = GHI 145 = Syll. 182 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 292 (n. 304 below); Diod. 15.89.1–2; Plut. Ages. 35. Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 393, 405–406; Hampl, Staatsverträge, 29–30; Ryder, Eirene, 140–144; Jehne, Eirene, 96–115; Wirth, Philipp, 100; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 297; Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 212. 272. On Diodoros: esp. Badian, “King’s Peace,” 36, 44. See also Hampl, Staatsverträge, 8–12; Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 394–395; Momigliano, Pace, 35–36; Aymard, Le monde grec, 183; Martin, “Une interprétation,” 130–132, 138; Accame, La lega, 2, 162; Bringmann, Studien, 50; Seager, “Balance,” 51; Ryder, Eirene, 34–36; Perlman, “Tradition,” 156–157; M. Sordi, “Introduzione: Dalla ‘koinè eirene’ alla ‘pax Romana,’” in La pace nel mondo antico, ed. M. Sordi (Milan: Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, 1985), 5–9; J. Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks, and the King: 346–336 b.c.,” Illinois CS 19 (1994): 99, 102; C. Mossé, Guerres et sociétés dans les mondes grecs de 490 à 322 av. J.-C. (Paris: Vuibert, 1999), 87; Petzold, Eröffnung, 23–24; Rhodes, History, 226. 273. E.g., S. Dušanić, in Federazioni e federalismo, 87–106. But Plato never used this expression. 274. E. Bickerman, “Rom und Lampsakos,” Philologus 87 (1932): 282–283. 275. Wilcken, Enstehung, 10; Heuss, “Antigonos,” 161. 276. Raue, “Untersuchungen,” 40 n. 70; J. Buckler, “Philip’s Designs on Greece,” in Transitions to Empire: Essays in Greco-Roman History, 360–146 b.c., in Honor of E. Badian, ed. R. W. Wallace and E. M. Harris (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1996), 95 n. 52; Buckler, Greece, 170; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 247.

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Formally, however, the King’s Peace settled a bilateral conflict, the one between Athens and Sparta. And while the “autonomy clause” was applied to all Greek cities (except a few that were expressly referred to as subject), only some of them participated in the Peace. Among others, Ernst Badian noted that far from all Greek cities participated in the King’s Peace, which hardly allows us to consider it a “common peace” in its usual understanding, and very perceptively compared the situation in Greece after the King’s Peace with the political régime that was to be established in Greece if Philip II agreed to the second amendment suggested by the Athenians for the peace of Philocrates between Athens and Philip (see chapter 2), which guaranteed freedom and autonomy to all Greek cities, that is, including non-participants in this peace. In short, most Greek cities, whose autonomy the King promised to protect, were neither participants in the negotiations nor signatories to the treaty of Peace. Nor were they ever expected to act as such. The reason was quite obvious: major political players were not interested in the status of Greek cities per se. They used the slogan of the autonomy of Greek cities to put a check on each other’s ambitions, including, first and foremost, Athens, Argos, Sparta, and Thebes—the four cities whose unanimity (homonoia), according to Isocrates’s advice to Philip, would reconcile the entire Greek world. None of the ancient texts that we have about the King’s Peace refers to it as “common peace,” with the exception of the Library of Diodoros, who appears to have been the main proponent of this concept. He allegedly borrowed the idea of the “common peace” from Ephoros, a writer of the fourth century, even though no evidence exists to support this claim: none of 238 surviving fragments of Ephoros collected by Jacoby in FGrH 70 refers to “common peace.” Andocides applied this expression, in a very general sense, to the

277. Lewis, Sparta and Persia, 147; cf. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.35; Isocr. 8.16. According to Lewis (ibid., n. 79), he had failed to find anyone else who attached importance to the use of ὁπότεροι (“which of two”) in the text of the King’s letter; but see Hampl, Staatsverträge, 3–4, 9–10; Badian, “King’s Peace,” 31, 37; Urban, Königsfrieden, 107. The observation of Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 266, that the text of Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31 means that “the other Greek cities in Europe were also to be autonomous and that the King reserved to himself the right to ensure that autonomy” does not contradict Lewis’s idea: the King recognized, and promised to enforce, the autonomy of other Greek cities as a means of restraining the two most powerful states in Greece. 278. Badian, “King’s Peace,” 39–40, answering the criticism of Lewis’s view by Buckler, “Philip II’s Designs,” 83. 279. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.12. 280. Isocr. 5.30–31; Isocr. ep. 3.2, with Sakellariou, “Panhellenism,” 132. 281. E.g., Stern, “Geschichte,” 68; Roos, “Peace,” 282; Ryder, “Peace,” 199; Ryder, Eirene, xiv–xvi, 146; Stylianou, Commentary, 127–128, 164 (“doubtless”). See Busolt, Bund, 677, 774; Cawkwell, “King’s Peace,” 69. For the corresponding bibliography about Diodoros’s reliance on Ephoros, see n. 193 above. 282. This skepticism: Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 101.

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universal tranquillity that reigned in Greece in the late 390s, when the great powers ceased hostilities, and probably in connection with an attempt to establish Peace for all Greeks at the conference at Sardis, provided, of course, this speech is dated to the late 390s and refers to that time (see Appendix 4). However, we do not see this expression in the surviving works of Isocrates, even though he would be the most appropriate propagator of the idea of the “common peace”; he referred to some of the same events as Diodoros; and, in addition to everything else, he had been the teacher of Ephoros. Nor do we see this expression in the Hellenica of Xenophon, who also devoted much time to a discussion of the same events. As for inscriptions, the restoration of the phrase koine eirene in the decree of Aristotle is thought to have had no epigraphic basis, which makes the above-mentioned inscription from c.362–361 the earliest documented reference to this concept. Diodoros thus stands alone. His very specific understanding of “common peace” is revealed by comparing his description of peace treaties of the fourth century (including the King’s Peace) with those by Xenophon and Isocrates’s Plataicus. In one such instance, for example, narrating the developments of 375–374, Diodoros said that Artaxerxes II sent envoys to Greek cities, urging them to establish a “common peace.” However, the texts of Xenophon and Isocrates indicate that, first, these “cities” were solely the “great powers,” such as Athens, Thebes, and Sparta, and, second, the new Peace was to be concluded between Athens and Sparta, which is quite like the King’s Peace in 386. Therefore, it is plausible that in 375 the Spartans were again behind the King’s initiative. The signatories to the Peace of 375 swore to respect the status of other Greek cities as autonomous and free of garrisons, even though not all of these cities participated in the negotiations. For example, the Spartans claimed to protect the autonomy of Boeotian

283. King’s Peace: Staatsverträge 2, no. 242. Andoc. 3.17; 3.28, 3.34. Esp. Keil, Eirene, 51–56; Momigliano, Pace, 35, 126–127 (“il primo documento di una nuova terminologia”); Wilcken, Enstehung, 7. Cf. Aucello, “La genesi,” 360; Urban, Königsfrieden, 74 n. 264; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 297 n. 5. 284. E.g., Isocr. 8.16. P. Wendland, “Beiträge zu athenischer Politik und Publicistik des vierten Jahrhunderts,” Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, Nachrichten, Phil.-hist. Kl. 1910, 126. 285. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).13 (377 b.c.); Cargill, League, 11, 28–47. Pace L. Santi Amantini, in La pace nel mondo antico, 46 n. 5. 286. Diod. 15.38.2–4. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 6.2.1, 6.3.1–19, incl. 6.3.2. See Isocr. 14.10–12 and 38. On this Peace as a “common peace”: Meyer, Geschichte, 5:388; Hamilton, Agesilaus, 195; Dreher, Athen, 155–156. 287. See G. L. Cawkwell, “Notes on the Peace of 375/4,” Historia 12 (1963): 90; Hornblower, Greek World, 239–240. The Spartans likewise initiated a proposal for a new Peace in 368 (Xen. Hellen. 7.1.27; Diod. 15.70.2), which brought about a flow of embassies with similar proposals for the King from other Greek states in 367, when the Thebans eventually got the upper hand in this competition but failed to establish their own Peace in the end. 288. Diod. 15.38.1.

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cities, with the same aim of putting a check on Theban ambitions. Therefore, although at least “on paper” the Peace was intended for everybody, it was ratified by only a few Greek states, which hardly makes it a “common peace” in the traditionally accepted meaning. In another such case, narrating the events surrounding the Sparta Peace of 371, Diodoros says that the Thebans, who wanted to retain control over Boeotian cities and swear on their behalf, remained virtually isolated in their conflict with Sparta because other Greeks had agreed to the “common peace.” Since Thebes stood out of the Sparta Peace of 371, this peace could not be “common” in the sense that is typically attached to this word. Nor does Xenophon, who described the same events, use the expression “common peace.” In one more such case, while Diodoros said that in 367 Artaxerxes II sent ambassadors to “the Greeks,” Xenophon spoke of Persian messengers trying to establish peace, first and foremost, between the Thebans and their allies on the one hand, and the Spartans on the other. Negotiations failed because the main point of the controversy remained the same: the Spartans contested the right of Thebes to dominate the cities of Boeotia, whereas the Thebans denied the Spartans the right to hold Messenia. This was in addition to various minor controversies, such as the one between Elis and Arcadia over the Triphylian cities. As a result, in the words of Diodoros, “the common peace was not agreed to.” In another similar instance, according to Diodoros, Artaxerxes included the Messenians in the koine eirene on the same terms as other Greeks. However, the two nearly contemporary accounts by Xenophon provide different interpretations of this episode: in his Hellenica, Pelopidas asked Artaxerxes that Messenia should be independent (autonomon) of Spartan rule, whereas, according to Xenophon’s biography of Agesilaos, the Great King demanded that “Sparta gave up her claim to Messenia.” Writing two centuries after Diodoros, Plutarch, too, said that the Theban proposals stipulated that the Greeks should be “autonomous” and Messenia “inhabited.” Formally, therefore, Pelopidas’s proposals were formulated in conformity with the “autonomy clause.” Finally, whereas Diodoros elsewhere spoke of the “common peace” of 366–365, because of the relative tranquillity in central Greece

289. Diod. 15.38.3 and Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19. 290. Diod. 15.51.1 and Xen. Hellen. 6.4.1. The status of Boeotian cities: P. Roesch, Thespies et la Confédération béotienne (Paris: De Boccard, 1965), 46. 291. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.27; Diod. 15.70.2. Roebuck, “Messenia,” 41–46; Grandjean, Messéniens, 67. The Triphylian cities: Xen. Hellen. 7.1.26 with Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 141. 292. Diod. 15.90.2; Xen. Hellen. 7.1.35–36 and Ages. 2.29; Plut. Pelop. 30.5. A general discussion: J. Buckler, The Theban Hegemony: 371–362 b.c. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1980), 151–159. The position of Thebes: Lewis, Sparta and Persia, 147 n. 80, and Seager, “Balance,” 59. Y. Lafond, “Messana, Messene,” in NPauly 8 (2000): 46.

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and the Peloponnese at that time (i.e., quite like Andocides in the late 390s, also in connection with the ongoing peace negotiations), Xenophon referred only to separate treaties of peace concluded between Thebes and (former?) Spartan allies. Summing up, when he was referring to the “common peace,” Diodoros implied a general state of tranquillity that was beneficial to everybody. His understanding of this phrase is different from the one that has been traditionally accepted: his “common peace” was not the peace in which all Greek cities negotiated or participated. If Diodoros indeed borrowed the idea of the “common peace” from Ephoros, there is little to recommend Ephoros’s analysis of this expression in particular, and, it seems, of the state of the Greek world in general in the fourth century. Is it possible, then, to apply the definition “common peace,” in the sense of a peace in which all Greek states participated, to treaties of Peace concluded prior to the 360s, including the King’s Peace? Arnaldo Momigliano, among others, presented the Athens Peace, the peace treaties of 366–365 (which he interpreted as a “common peace”; see Appendix 3), and the “common peace” of c.362–361 as military alliances. Momigliano’s idea seems to have been quite obvious: if the peace was “common peace,” that is, the one in which everybody participated, this peace should have included the “sanctions clause,” which obliged participants to help those parties who had been wronged. George Cawkwell went even further, by postulating the presence of the “sanctions clauses of various sorts” in all “common peaces” from 386 to 362–361, with only the exception of 366–365, which he also considered a “common peace.”

293. Diod. 15.70.2 (369–368), 15.76.3 (366–365), 15.77.1 (365–364). This tranquillity: J. Roy, “Thebes in the 360s b.c.,” in CAH 6 (1994): 196–197; Rhodes, History, 234–235. Andoc. 3.17 (and n. 283 above). 294. Diod. 15.76.3; Xen. Hellen. 7.4.2–11 and Ages. 2.29. See Appendix 3. 295. Similar views: Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 101, 119–122; Buckler “Philip II’s Designs,” 95 n. 52; P. Sánchez, L’Amphictionie des Pyles et de Delphes: Recherches sur son rôle historique, des origines au IIe siècle de notre ère (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2001), 212–213. 296. Pace Stylianou, Commentary, 127–128. But see on Diodoros’s own creativity: S. Hornblower, in CR, n.s., 34 (1984): 263; K. S. Sacks, in Greek Historiography, ed. S. Hornblower (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 213–232. 297. E.g., Busolt, Bund, 841; Hampl, Staatsverträge, 10, 12; E. Bickerman, “Les préliminaires de la seconde guerre de Macédoine,” RPh 61 (1935): 70; Bringmann, Studien, 47, 61; N. Robertson, in Historical Reflections 3 (1976): 14; Jehne, Eirene, 369; Gillone, “I Lacedemoni,” 115. 298. Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 400, 402. The same view on the “koine eirene of 362–361”: F. Taeger, Der Friede von 362/1: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Panhellenische Bewegung im 4. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1930), 3; Jehne, Eirene, 96–115; Jehne, “Formen,” 344–345; Munn, “Thebes,” 94. 299. The “common peace of 366–365”: Momigliano, Pace, 36 (365); G. L. Cawkwell, “The Peace of Philocrates Again,” CQ, n.s., 28 (1978): 96; Cawkwell, Wars, 179; Stylianou, Commentary, 595; Hornblower, Greek World, 259. The “sanctions clause” in the Peace of 362–361: Jehne, Eirene, 101–115.

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One should not approach all treaties of Peace in this indiscriminate fashion, however. The King’s Peace did not have the “sanctions clause”: the King pledged to protect the Peace with the help of any Greek state that wished to join him. No evidence supports the presence of this clause in the Peace of 375 either; nor did the Sparta Peace of 371 have it. As we have seen earlier, the Athens Peace did not have this clause: the members of the Second Confederacy pledged to protect this Peace, by swearing to uphold the principles of the King’s Peace, and to help militarily all other members of the Confederacy in their time of need. The latter indeed took the form of the “sanctions clause,” but it was relevant only to Athens’ military alliance. It is possible, therefore, to question the conclusion that “the peace after the battle of Mantinea returned to a sanctions clause.” Further arguments supporting the presence of the “sanctions clause” in the treaties of “common peace” appear to be similarly questionable. One such example is Demosthenes’s speech for the people of Megalopolis (353), which might suggest that the Athenian obligation to help Megalopolis resulted from the “sanctions clause” of the “common peace.” However, this obligation can be explained in a more convenient way: the battle of Mantinea (362) was followed by the treaty of Athens, the Arcadians, the Achaeans, Elis, and Phlieius in 362–361. The text of this treaty presents it as an “alliance” and makes no reference to “peace,” much less “common peace.” Demosthenes likely refers to this alliance, which, as we know from the text of the treaty, obliged its participants to help each other. The words of Demosthenes, therefore, do not prove that the “common peace of 362–361” obliged the Athenians to help Megalopolis. Furthermore, narrating the events following the battle of Mantinea, Diodoros mentions “common peace” (which, as we have seen, he understands as the state of general tranquillity in Greece) and a military alliance side by side. The latter should have had the “sanctions clause,” which was typical for military alliances. However, no evidence exists to show that the “common peace” of 362–361 had a “sanctions clause.” Nor does the above-mentioned inscription, which contained the phrase koine eirene and allegedly concerned certain Persian satraps, make any reference to this clause. Additionally, the meaning of this phrase in the text remains unclear, nor can

300. The King’s Peace: Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31; Diod. 14.110.3. The Sparta Peace: Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18. 301. Cawkwell, “The Peace of Philocrates Again,” 96, with reference to Diod. 15.89.1 and Dem. 16.9–10. 302. Dem. 16.9–10; R&O 41 (= IG II 112 = GHI 144 = Syll. 181 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 290 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 58). 303. Diod. 15.89.1: the Greeks συνθέμενοι δὲ κοινὴν εἰρήνην καὶ συμμαχίαν, κατέταττον ἐν τῇ συμμαχίᾳ καὶ τοὺς Μεσσηνίους. Plutarch (Ages. 35.2–3) confuses the matter by speaking only of “peace.” 304. R&O 42 (= IG IV 556 = GHI 145 = Syll. 182 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 292) with bibliography in n. 271 above.

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the date and nature of this inscription be established with any certainty. Hence, this inscription alone can hardly serve as a valid ground for long-reaching conclusions. Referring to the Peace of 362–361, Diodoros spoke of the “koine eirene and symmachia” in a somewhat confusing manner, noting that the Messenians were included in an alliance and that, for this reason, the Spartans did not join in the peace. A little later, he said that the Messenians were included “by the King in the Peace “on the same terms as other Greeks,” though referring to the King’s sanction for the failed Thebes Peace of 367. Polybios noted that while the Spartans tried to prevent the Messenians from joining in the Peace of 362–361, the Megalopolitai and the entire Arcadian League both “received” the Messenians and “included” them in the treaty of Peace, thus also making a distinction between the alliance and the Peace. It is quite obvious that the idea of Peace became modified, starting in the late 370s, so that military alliances could be established, or revived, within the framework of a Peace. As a result, military alliances now posed as guarantors of peace and freedom both for their participants (hence, the presence of the “sanctions clause,” which was a necessary feature in the treaty of any military alliance) and for the rest of the Greeks (hence, the stress on compliance with the provisions of the King’s Peace, i.e., the “autonomy clause”). The Athens Peace of 371 thus marked a new development: it both upheld the principles of the King’s Peace, including the claim to protect the autonomia (and eleutheria, which was traced in retrospect to the King’s Peace) of all Greeks, and it provided a framework for Athens’ military alliance, whose members also pledged to protect the autonomia and eleutheria of each other. The latter pledge took the form of the “sanctions clause,” which, therefore, concerned only the cities participating in this military alliance. The failed Thebes Peace of 367, or the Peace of

305. E.g., Weiskopf, The So-Called GreatSatraps’ Revolt, 84–85; Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, pp. 214: “The stone has been lost, and the text transcribed contains no indication of date: all the interpreter can do is look for a context in which the text that can be reconstructed makes sense. Suggested dates have ranged from 386 to 338–334” and 215–216: “since we lack the beginning, we do not know what the status of this document is, to whom the man from the satraps went or who authorized this reply.” Pace Stylianou, Commentary, 524. 306. E.g., Cawkwell, Wars, 179, 188, 192 n. 2; Hornblower, Greek World, 259. 307. Diod. 15.89.1–2 (see n. 303 above), 15.90.2. The failed Thebes Peace: Appendix 3. Polyb. 4.33.8–9. 308. Hampl, Staatsverträge, 18–19, 30, referring to the evidence for Sparta’s support to the Athenian claim to Amphipolis (see Appendix 3), rejected the possibility that Sparta offered her support to Athens at the Sparta Peace (so Aeschin. 2.32) because this Peace did not oblige its participants to help the “wronged parties.” Hampl thus concluded that Sparta offered her support at the Peace of 375 and therefore that Peace was “the first κοινὴ εἰρήνη of genuine character.” The same conclusion: Bengtson, Geschichte, 276.

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Pelopidas, was probably planned along the same two lines: Pelopidas envisaged it in the likeness of the King’s Peace, that is, as a tool he could use to neutralize the military alliances of Athens and Sparta in the name of “Greek freedom,” and to provide the framework for Thebes’ own military alliance with the Boeotian Federation at its base, which required the presence of the “sanctions clause.” In a similar fashion, if the “common peace” of 362–361 was expected to provide a framework for a military alliance, it did not necessarily deny the existence of a treaty that included the “sanctions clause” as well. In other words, once a military alliance claimed to secure Peace for all Greeks, the corresponding document could, at least in theory, include both the “sanctions clause” and the “autonomy clause.” The last step was the appearance of the expression “common peace,” which capped the development in the character of Peace over several decades: earlier treaties of Peace, starting with the King’s Peace of 386, protected the autonomia (and, then, eleutheria) of all Greek cities, including those that did not participate in these treaties, thus maintaining the political and military balance between several major powers; then the members of military alliances, such as the Second Athenian Confederacy, claimed to protect both their own security and the status of all other Greek cities (thus formally complying with the principles of the King’s Peace); and, finally, the expression “common peace,” which is first documented in the 360s, was applied to peace treaties, which protected only the participants. However, some ancient and modern authors employed this expression in retrospect to earlier treaties of Peace, thus blurring the distinction between peace treaties protecting the status only of Greek cities that directly participated in them and treaties of Peace that offered this protection to all Greek cities, irrespective of whether these cities were signatories to such treaties.

c onclusion It has been generally assumed that the Greeks had used the concept of eleutheria for many centuries before they started employing autonomia. The latter is thought to have been first documented in the 440s. While this opinion may have been true—even though Sophocles’s Antigone 821–822, which is the

309. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.36: Pelopidas offered to fight against those who did not agree to this Peace. See Appendix 3. 310. Hampl, Staatsverträge, 38, in fact noted the difference between the protection of the status of “all Greeks,” on the one hand, and of only participating Greek cities, on the other, but failed to explain it. See also p. 110. 311. E.g., Momigliano, Pace, 72–73; Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 339–343.

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usual reference, did not yet use the noun—what is similarly important is that no evidence exists in the fifth century for applying eleutheria to define the status of Greek cities in their relations to each other. Edmond Lévy has proposed to examine eleutheria as being used on the following three levels: (i) personal status: “free or slave”; (ii) the “internal régime” of the city: free or “subject to the authoritarian power (tyrant, despot, or dynastes)”; and (iii) the “independence of a city or a region of a foreign power.” It is only the last “level” that is relevant to the current examination. But, on the one hand, eleutheria in such cases meant a general slogan of freedom from foreign sway, that is, without any indication of the legal status of an individual city. On the other hand, for the fifth century, the word autonomia and its cognates are said to be encountered mostly in Thucydides. Why in Thucydides? Among other things, it seems, because he focuses on the Peloponnesian war and relations of Greek city-states: as we have seen earlier, he uses the word autonomia and its cognates to define the status of Greek cities, such as allies of Sparta and Athens, before and in the course of the Peloponnesian war. A similar use of eleutheria in Greek politics would only develop later: although Thucydides also applies the word eleutheria to individual cities, he employs this word in only a few cases, and mostly in a general sense, as “freedom from external domination.” The two words, therefore, had different fields of application. It is for only this reason that one may not speak about autonomia and eleutheria as synonyms. As a result, while the concept, and the use, of eleutheria in general terms might have appeared much earlier than that of autonomia, the former word was first applied to the status of individual Greek cities and their interrelationship later than autonomia. All treaties of Peace in the fourth century for which we have sufficient information (the King’s Peace, the Peace of 375, the Sparta Peace, the Athens Peace, and probably the failed Peace of Pelopidas) used the “autonomy clause” to put a check on the activity of the main political powers in Greece and to offer a casus belli 312. Soph. Antig. 821–822 (αὐτόνομος ζῶσα μόνη δὴ θνητῶν Ἀίδην καταβήσῃ. Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 343; M. Ostwald, Autonomia: Its Genesis and Early History (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1982), 10, 11 (“a metaphorical sense”); Raaflaub, Discovery, 119, 148 (“perhaps 442”). Cf. Lévy, “Autonomia,” 250 (“Αὐτόνομος .  .  . apparaît pour la première fois, sans doute en 442,” with reference to “Aeschylus’ Antigone 821–822”), 258, with Chr. Sourvinou-Inwood, in JHS 109 (1989): 139. 313. Lévy, “Autonomia,” 253. For eleutheria applied to the individual status prior to the Peloponnesian war: H. Schwabl, in Wiener Humanistische Blätter 16 (1973): 1–12; A. Heuss, “Herrschaft und Freiheit im griechisch-römischen Altertum,” in Propyläen Weltgeschichte: Eine Universalgeschichte, ed. Golo Mann et al. (Berlin: Propyläen, 1965), 79 (on the “freedom of citizens”); S. Lauffer, in Atti del XII Congresso Internazionale di Filosofia: Venice, 12–18 September 1958 (Venice: Sansoni, 1960–1961), 11:113–116; Momigliano, Pace, 72–73. 314. Lévy, “Autonomia,” 255 and 258. 315. This view: Lévy, “Autonomia,” 257–258 (with reservations).

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should these powers extend their influence to other Greek cities. The word “freedom” only made its entrance in Greek political documents in 384–383: we first see it in the treaty between Athens and Chios. It then also started to be used in declarations of Greek freedom. Because of the general nature of such declarations, they neither did, nor could they have, contained specific details regarding the status of individual cities whose autonomia and eleutheria they pledged to protect. In practical terms, such pledges forestall the attempts of powerful competitors to establish control over less important communities. There is no reason to view the “autonomy clause” as reflecting the “autonomy principle.” This clause only served a general political purpose and did not carry within itself any obligations with respect to the status of individual cities. The Athens Peace and those that followed also provided the framework for military alliances that, as military alliances always did, protected the status of member states, in addition to securing the autonomy of all Greek cities, that is, including those that did not directly participate in this Peace. This situation had already developed in its latent form in the time of the King’s Peace, which coexisted with Sparta’s Peloponnesian League. However, the Peloponnesian League managed to survive and endure in the Peace of 375 and the Sparta Peace, because of Sparta’s special position among other Greek cities and because of the force of tradition. The Athens Peace was a new development in the sense that it was established specifically to validate Athens’ own military alliance. The example was set up, so now any major power could have its own Peace together with its own military alliance. Not that the Peace determined the political situation, but a change in the political situation brought to life yet another Peace. The Thebans were eager to follow the Athenian example and establish the Thebes Peace, but they eventually failed. Major powers not only tried to set up their own Peace but also refused to recognize a Peace established by their rivals. Sparta did not endorse the Athens Peace or later treaties of Peace, including the one that would be established by Philip II (see chapter 2), whereas Thebes stayed out of the Sparta Peace and the Athens Peace. The reason was obvious: such treaties of Peace acknowledged only the military alliance of the power that established that Peace. All other cities were expected to participate individually. Joining a Peace treaty, therefore, meant acknowledging the “autonomy” (and, later, “freedom”) of all Greek cities, including one’s own allies, which major powers could not afford.

316. R&O 20 (= IG II 34 = GHI 118 = Syll. 142 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 248).17–23 (see n. 119 above). 317. Their proposed identification: e.g., Hamilton, “Sparta,” 54.

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As we have seen, a demand to give autonomy to allies was not the same as a demand to dissolve the alliance. However, the autonomy of the allies, which was reflected in their swearing one by one to the treaty of Peace, brought the military strength of such an alliance close to zero. This was the reason each major power wanted to have its own Peace—to acknowledge its own military alliance and undermine all the rest—so that more than one treaty of Peace appeared in Greece at the same time. This situation is in a sense reminiscent of what happened in medieval Europe at the moment of transition from the idea of the imperium, which could be only one and therefore had to be contested, to the idea of maiestas, which admitted the coexistence of several sovereign states at the same time. But neither eleutheria nor autonomia was adequate by itself to translate the concept of sovereignty, even though John Davies used the “charter” of the Second Confederacy and the King’s Peace to support a statement that “it is as if Greeks dimly perceived the notion of full sovereign independence, but their diplomats had extreme difficulty in finding an adequate formulation.” The latter is true, of course: the absence of an adequate concept should mean by itself that there was no clear idea of sovereignty either. The presence of more than one treaty of Peace in Greece from the late 370s, however, shows that the Greeks came quite close to this idea; yet no special concept was coined and, in fact, each major power recognized only the Peace established by itself. The “autonomy clause” in a Peace treaty was different from the “sanctions clause” in a military alliance: the former helped to maintain the political situation in Greece as a whole by protecting the status of non-participating cities and provided a casus belli in case this situation was threatened, whereas the latter protected the autonomy and political régimes of only member states that were obliged to help each other. But both clauses served the same purpose, namely, to check the competitor’s ambitions and to justify a military retaliation. Because the “sanctions clause” appeared only when the treaties of Peace started to warrant military alliances, and because military alliances always formally protected the status, that is, “freedom and autonomy,” of member states, there are no grounds for concluding either that the “sanctions clause” became more precise as time

318. Pace P. J. Rhodes, “Sparta, Thebes and Autonomia,” Eirene 35 (1999): 35, with reference to Spartan demands to give autonomy to Boeotian cities. 319. J. K. Davies, “On the Non-usability of the Concept of ‘Sovereignty’ in an Ancient Greek Context,” in Federazioni e federalismo, 61–62. While noting that “sovereignty” was a modern concept, Schmitt, “Freiheit,” 351, defined what could have been close to this idea in ancient Greece as a composite of several rights, including, besides eleutheria and autonomia, also aphrouresia (i.e., the freedom from being garrisoned) and aphorologesia (i.e., the freedom from paying taxes).

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went on or that the “autonomy clause” changed from 386 to the late 380s to include all Greek cities. As treaties of Peace became more refined, they included the “demilitarization clause,” “garrison clause,” and “territorial clause.” The emergence of such clauses shows that the “autonomy clause” ceased to be enough to maintain the political situation that was established in Greece by the King’s Peace. The final demise of the King’s Peace was revealed by the appearance of the phrase “common peace” that first emerged in the late 360s and has been applied in retrospect to all earlier treaties of Peace. The appearance of the phrase “common peace” reflected the idea of “common freedom,” which implied peace among all Greeks and their joint action against common enemies. This idea had already developed in the wake of the Peloponnesian war. Andocides promoted this idea in the late 390s. In 388 or 384, Lysias urged the Greeks to relinquish mutual warfare and to fight for “common freedom,” shaming those Greeks who betrayed the common cause and, therefore, deprived the entire Greece of “safety” (soteria). The inability of the King’s Peace and its subsequent (modified) reincarnations to defend the peace and freedom of all Greeks reinvigorated the ideas of “common peace” and “common freedom,” which were then used by Philip II for establishing his own domination over the Greek world.

320. Jehne, Eirene, 176: “The Greeks learned how to safeguard themselves against these implications of the ideas of autonomy and the threat of sanctions, by realizing the political opportunities of special provisions, as in 371 in Sparta, when the freedom of joining in the action was guaranteed, and in 371 in Athens, when the sanctions clause was definitely limited to the participants in the peace.” But this provision of the Sparta Peace was following those found in the King’s Peace and the Peace of 375, which forbade military alliances, whereas the Athens Peace, as the first Peace associated with the “sanctions clause,” both adhered to the principles of the King’s Peace and warranted the Athenian military alliance; Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2 (see n. 246 above). 321. E.g., Urban, Königsfrieden, 132–133 and 133–136, for his attempt to solve the puzzle that he himself had created. 322. Andoc. 3.17; Lys. 33.6–7.

2 The Macedonian Peace of Philip II and Alexander the Great

i The presence of several treaties of Peace—each warranting only the military alliance of the power that established this Peace and, therefore, not acknowledged by other major powers—reflected the state of political fragmentation of Greece around the mid-fourth century b.c. This was, then, the situation in Greece, which Philip II used to his advantage once he started establishing Macedonian control over individual Greek cities and alliances.

f rom the p eace of p hilocrates to p hilip’s l eague of c orinth there appear to have been three major aspects to Philip’s relations with the Greeks, each of which was directly connected with the use of the slogan of freedom. They were the events surrounding and following the peace of Philocrates (346) between Philip and Athens; the nature of Philip’s military alliance, the League of Corinth; and, finally, the effect of the Macedonian Peace, which Philip established after his victory at Chaeronea (338), on the political situation in Greece. These problems will be discussed here in turn. As for the first of them, a speech, usually ascribed to Hegesippus, about the conflict between Athens and Philip over the tiny island of Halonnesus (which largely precipitated the war that followed) mentioned amendments that had been 67

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proposed to the peace of Philocrates. The original treaty of 346 established peace and an alliance between the two parties: the Athenians and the Second Athenian Confederacy on the one hand, and Philip II and his allies on the other. It has been generally interpreted as a “common peace,” even though some have objected to this definition. The restless Philip, however, then captured the island of Halonnesus and the city of Pherae; he also sent an expedition against Ambracia, ravaged the territory of Elaean colonies in Epirus, got possession of several locales in Thrace, and, finally, became involved in affairs on Euboea and in the territorial dispute between the Athenian cleruchs and the people of Cardia in the Chersonese. The peace of Philocrates was, therefore, threatened. Philip did not break it, but his power was getting stronger, and the Athenians became alarmed. While we do not have to become engaged in a discussion on whether Philip was pursuing his own policy in Greece at that time or only reacting to being drawn into Greek politics through the conflicted interests among the Greeks (and these opinions are not mutually exclusive), it is clear that Philip wanted to keep the peace for the time being. He proposed that the Athenians modify it as they wished. The confusion concerning the authorship of the amendments to the peace of Philocrates could have been caused by the different rôles Philip and the Athenians played in the process: Philip proposed making changes to the treaty of peace, whereas the Athenians provided the substance for these changes—they came up with two successive amendments to their peace treaty with Philip. Those who believe that

1. Staatsverträge 2, no. 329; Aeschin. 3.54; D.H. Epist. ad Amm. 1.11; FGrH 328 (Philochoros) F 55; Dem. 6.2; [Dem.] 7.31; Dem. 12.22, 19.40–41, 47–49; see also G. L. Cawkwell, Philip of Macedon (London and Boston: Faber and Faber, 1978), 101–108; Cawkwell, “Aeschines,” 416–438; Worthington, Philip II, 118–119. 2. A. Momigliano, Filippo il Macedone: Saggio sulla storia Greca del IV secolo a.C. (Florence: Felice le Monnier, 1934), 122; F. Hampl, “König Philippos,” Neue Jahrbücher für antike und deutsche Bildung 1 (1938): 415; F. R. Wüst, Philipp II. von Makedonien und Griechenland in den Jahren von 346 bis 338 (Munich: Beck, 1938), 20–35; Wirth, Philipp, 96, 102. 3. E.g., Ryder, Eirene, 145–147; J. Buckler, Philip II and the Sacred War (Leiden and New York: Brill, 1989), 141; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 234. 4. Dem. 6.2 (344 b.c.); [Dem.] 7.32, 37, 39–45, with very correct observations by D. M. MacDowell, Demosthenes the Orator (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 326. Pace Cawkwell, Philip, 127, and G. L. Cawkwell, “Euboea in the Late 340s,” Phoenix 32 (1978): 42–67; Buckler, “Philip II’s Designs,” 85. 5. E.g., Kahrstedt, Forschungen, 142. 6. As correctly Wüst, Philipp, 64–77, and R. Sealey, “Philipp II. und Athen, 344/3 und 339,” Historia 27 (1978): 309 n. 37; cf. MacDowell, Demosthenes, 332, who also noted two amendments but believed that they were suggested at the same time, in 344; this does not make much sense, however, since the second amendment not merely complemented the first but aimed at putting Philip’s relationship with the Greeks on a new basis. P. A. Brunt, “Euboea in the Time of Philip II,” CQ, n.s., 19 (1969): 262, and Worthington, Philip II, xvii spoke of only one amendment, which they dated to 344.

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Philip suggested these proposals have relied on the same speech concerning Halonnesus, which, however, refers to two amendments introduced by Athens. Thus it states that the first amendment was suggested by the Athenians and conceded by Philip’s envoys: “Pytho urged public speakers not to attack the peace, but to amend any unsatisfactory clause, on the understanding that Philip was prepared to fall in with your suggestions.” Later, as the author of the speech claimed, Philip denied that he had ever agreed to that amendment. It was the author of the speech about Halonnesus who proposed this amendment, which, as he claimed, complied with earlier decrees and also kept the Athenian territory intact. His words reveal the nature of the first amendment: every side in the deal should keep to its own. The first amendment, which the Athenians proposed in 343, therefore, took the form of the “territorial clause” (ἑκατέρους ἔχειν τὰ ἑαυτῶν). Because Demosthenes’s On the False Embassy, which was delivered in the summer of 343, mentions this amendment, it likely emerged between (and probably in connection with) the impeachment of Philocrates in early 343 and the summer (August?) of that year. The effect of this amendment should have been quite negligible because Philip did not necessarily have to use force to extend his influence. As Demosthenes says in the same speech, Philip played on contradictions between local factions and politicians, so that “madness (paranoia) and insane frenzy (mania)” seized many Greeks, who, instead of uniting against Philip, “stained their hands with the blood of their own kindred and fellow-citizens.” This “infection” (nosema), continues Demosthenes, allowed Philip to destroy the predominance of the Thessalians, caused the massacres in Elis, turned Arcadian politics upside down, and even invaded Athens. In the words of Demosthenes, “Philip acquired his political supremacy and performed his most signal achievements” by “buying treachery from willing sellers, and by corrupting leading politicians and stimulating their

7. G. L. Cawkwell, “Demosthenes’ Policy after the Peace of Philocrates,” CQ, n.s., 13 (1963): 134, 200–203; Cawkwell, Philip, 125; Bengtson, Geschichte, 321; Sakellariou, “Panhellenism,” 138; Jehne, Eirene, 132– 139, 277. 8. [Dem.] 7.26 and 30; see nn. 11 and 24 below. 9. [Dem.] 7.22–23. 10. [Dem.] 7.25: τοˆι ς οὖσιν ἐννόμοις καὶ σῴζουσι τὴν ὑμετέραν χώραν. 11. [Dem.] 7.18–23 and 26: φησὶ (Philip) δ᾿Ἀμφίπολιν ἑαυτοῦ εἶναι· ὑμᾶς γὰρ ψηφίσασθαι ἐκείνου, ὅτ᾿ ἐψηφίσασθε ἔχειν αὐτὸν ἃ εἶχεν. 12. This dating: T. Thalheim, “Aischines,” in RE 1.1 (1893): 1056; T. Thalheim, “Demosthenes,” in RE 5.1 (1903): 175; Sealey, “Philipp II. und Athen,” 302; G. L. Cawkwell, “Aeschines,” in OCD, 25–26; G. L. Cawkwell, “Demosthenes,” in OCD, 457; MacDowell, Demosthenes, 334. 13. Dem. 19.116, 119, 245; G. L. Cawkwell, “The End of Greek Liberty,” in Transitions to Empire, 103; Worthington, Philip II, xvii. 14. Dem. 19.259–262.

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ambition.” In this way, Philip changed the political régimes in several Greek states, such as Elis, Megara, and Euboea. Abiding by the principles laid down in the Introduction, I do not intend to engage in a discussion here of whether Philip was the aggressor or if he was only responding to Athens’ actions. However, the question obviously arises as to why it was the Athenians who came up with amendments to the peace of Philocrates. What might have been relevant to this debate is that Isocrates’s address to Philip, which was written shortly after the conclusion of the peace of Philocrates, gives over the leadership of Greece to Philip. Isocrates envisages Philip as the “champion of [Greek] concord” (prostates homonoias), clearly reflecting on the sorrowful state of affairs in Greece and on Philip’s policy of interfering in Greek affairs as if in defense of wronged parties. Earlier, the leadership of Greece, and the status of the “champions of Greek freedom,” belonged to the Spartans and the Athenians. The same speech of Demosthenes also makes it clear that the first amendment to the peace of Philocrates was followed by a change in the political régime in Elis, which was to Philip’s liking. Therefore, a new amendment, proposed by the Athenians sometime in 343 or in 342, included a provision that “all other Greeks who are not parties to the peace should remain free and independent and if they are attacked, the signatories to the peace should render help.” Philip acknowledged the justice of this amendment and agreed to accept it in the letter to Athens, to which this speech was offered as a response. There are no grounds for following those who interpreted this new proposed amendment as a broadening of the number of participants in the treaty, that is, turning a bilateral treaty into a koine eirene in the sense of “common peace,” in

15. Dem. 19.300; see also Dem. 19.306 on persons “who were intriguing for Philip” in Arcadia, and Paus. 4.28.4–5 and 5.4.9, who refers directly to the factional strife at Elis as having been incited by Philip. 16. See preceding note and J. R. Ellis, in CAH 6 (1994): 768; MacDowell, Demosthenes, 352. 17. The latter: Cawkwell, “Euboea,” 42–67; Cawkwell, “Greek Liberty,” 106–107; Buckler, “Philip II’s Designs,” 85. 18. Pace Bengtson, Geschichte, 321, and, expectedly, Cawkwell (see n. 4 above); Buckler, “Philip II’s Designs,” 86–87. But cf. Buckler, Greece, 460: Philip “consented” to amending the peace of Philocrates, thus implying that this amendment, which Buckler dated to 343, had been suggested by the Athenians. 19. See his To Philip in 346: Isocr. 5.16, 50, 56, 127, 154. 20. E.g., Lysias, Olympic Oration [33] (c.388–384 b.c.); Isocrates, Panegyricos (4) (c.380 b.c.). See Bringmann, Studien, 100; Sakellariou, “Panhellenism,” 132. 21. Dem. 19.181, 294. 22. Griffith, in HM, 2:490; Jehne, Eirene, 132; cf. Kahrstedt, Forschungen, 84. 23. Beloch, Politik, 213; Bengtson, Geschichte, 321–322; Wendland, “Beiträge,” 297 n. 3, 305; Cawkwell, “Demosthenes’ Policy,” 134; Cawkwell, Philip, 125. 24. [Dem.] 7.30 and 32.

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which, according to their opinion, all Greek cities would participate. Further theoretical constructions that are based on this assumption should be adjusted as well. For example, if one adheres to this interpretation, then Hampl, Ryder, Borza, and Griffith were certainly right: if the second proposed amendment turned the peace of 346 into a “common peace” (koine eirene), then the peace of 346 was not originally a “common peace.” But neither of the two amendments (which are usually treated indiscriminately) established a “common peace,” at least not in the sense which Hampl and Griffith meant, that is, a peace in which almost all Greek cities participated. The first amendment introduced the “territorial clause,” whereas the second, which never came into effect, guaranteed the freedom and autonomy of all Greek cities, including non-participants in the peace of Philocrates. Because the latter amendment, which we can even if only for the sake of convenience put in 342, served the purpose of securing the freedom and autonomy of those cities that did not participate in the treaty, the treaty of 346 remained a bilateral agreement in 342. Both groups—the participants in the treaty and the

25. Beloch, Politik, 213; Heuss, “Antigonos,” 170; F. Hampl, “Zur angeblichen κοινὴ εἰρήνη von 346 und zum Philokrateischen Frieden,” Klio 31 (1938): 375; Griffith, “The So-Called Koine Eirene,” 72 n. 8; Griffith, in HM, 2:490; Bengtson, Geschichte, 321; Cawkwell, Philip, 124–125; Cawkwell, “The Peace of Philocrates Again,” 96; Brunt, “Euboea,” 262 n. 2; H. Klees, “Die Expansion Makedoniens unter Philipp II. und der Friede des Philokrates,” in Zu Alexander d. Gr.: Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86, ed. W. Will (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1987), 1:186 n. 207 (343); Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 103–104 (344); Buckler, Greece, 460 (343); Mossé, Guerres, 88–89; Perlman, “Tradition,” 166 (343); Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 145–146; Rhodes, History, 237; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 237 (“the Athenian suggestion to broaden the peace”); Worthington, Philip II, 112 (“towards the end of 344 or perhaps early in 343”); I. Wothington, “IG II 236 and Philip’s Common Peace of 337,” in Greek History and Epigraphy: Essays in Honour of P. J. Rhodes, ed. L. Mitchell and L. Rubinstein (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2009), 220. Cf. Sealey, “Philipp II. und Athen,” 307, 309 n. 37, who expressed his reservations as to whether the second amendment would have necessarily established a koine eirene, and MacDowell, Demosthenes, 332, who clearly and correctly pointed that the second amendment concerned Greek states not included in the treaty of Philocrates as allies of either Philip or Athens. 26. Hampl, Staatsverträge, 64–65; Hampl, “κοινὴ εἰρήνη,” 375, 377–380; Bengtson, Geschichte, 321; Ryder, Eirene, 148–149; E. N. Borza, “Philip II and the Greeks,” CP 73 (1978): 241; Griffith, “The So-Called Koine Eirene,” 72, followed by Sánchez, L’Amphictionie, 211. 27. E.g., Wüst, Philipp, 64–77; Cloché, La politique, 253–255, 260–261; Cawkwell, “Demosthenes’ Policy,” 133–134, 209; Cawkwell, Philip, 125; Brunt, “Euboea,” 262. Cf. E. M. Harris, Aeschines and Athenian Politics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 171, on only one “revision of peace” (of Philocrates), which he dated to 343 (as did Wendland, “Beiträge,” 297 n. 3; Buckler, Greece, 460, and others), i.e., just as he dated [Dem.] 7. The only person, to my knowledge, who clearly distinguished between these two amendments appears to have been Sealey, “Philipp II. und Athen,” 306–307. I agree with most of what he said on this matter, except that the second amendment did not oblige any state to help those that had been attacked. 28. Hampl, Staatsverträge, 1–8; Griffith, “The So-Called Koine Eirene,” 71. 29. Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 100, and Buckler, Sacred War, 141, similarly rejected the definition of the peace of Philocrates as a “common peace.”

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other Greek cities that did not participate in the treaty but whose freedom and independence were to be safeguarded by it—appear to have been clearly separated: the former were supposed to protect the freedom and independence of the cities in the latter group. By offering to protect the status of all Greek cities, the second amendment aimed to put a further check on Philip’s ambitions. There is no ground, however, to think that this new arrangement obliged Greek cities to militarily support each other, as follows from the opinions of Ryder, who believed the guarantee clause proposed by Athens required that “the rest of the participants should come to the assistance of the injured party,” and Bosworth, who asserted that “the Athenians suggested that the peace be open to all Greeks as a basis of freedom and autonomy and that all signatories should give assistance if any single participant were attacked. This is the classic Common Peace formula.” But, as we have examined in the first chapter, the “classic Common Peace formula” had been the protection of the “autonomy” (and “freedom”) of non-signatories to the Peace treaty, and this is precisely what we see in the speech on Halonnesus. It is also tempting to connect the Athenian proposal adding the “autonomy clause” to the peace of Philocrates with Philip’s being increasingly presented as the leader of all Greeks. This image of Philip was first aired by Isocrates in To Philip in 346, shortly after the end of the Sacred War. If Philip had accepted the obligation of protecting the autonomy and freedom of the Greeks, it would have made them more eager to welcome his leadership. However, Philip did not need to make this commitment in order to achieve leadership over the Greeks. The same speech, concerning the island of Halonnesus, also reminded the listeners of what Philip had accomplished in Greece after the peace of Philocrates. The author thus conveyed the idea that although Philip did not officially withdraw from the peace treaty, he had effectively undermined it because of interfering in the affairs of Greek cities, by using diplomacy and cunning. The two amendments to the peace of Philocrates, both of which were suggested by the

30. Ryder, Eirene, 149, with Sealey, “Philipp II. und Athen,” 307; Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 146, with reference to [Dem.] 7.30–32; Perlman, “Tradition,” 166. 31. [Dem.] 7.30 (see n. 24 above). 32. Isocr. 5.16, 50, 56, 127, 154 (see n. 19 above); U. Wilcken, Philipp II. von Makedonien und die Panhellenische Idee (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1929), 2, 7–9; Momigliano, Pace, 127; G. Dobesch, in Federazioni e federalismo, 234. 33. See [Dem.] 7.32. 34. Cf. Cawkwell, “Demosthenes’ Policy,” 200–203, 203–204, who, instead of Philip’s aggressions, preferred to speak about the “popularity” of, and “support” for, Philip in Greece; J. R. Ellis, “Philip and the Peace of Philokrates,” in Philip II, Alexander the Great and the Macedonian Heritage, 43–59: after the peace of Philocrates, Philip wanted to cooperate with Athens and to undermine the growing power of Thebes.

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Athenians, show that relations between Athens and Philip remained quite strained after 346. The first amendment, the “territorial clause,” appears to have had little effect, expressly because even when Philip did not overcome Greek cities by force, he found many opportunities to offer himself as a defender or an arbitrator to Greeks in their conflicts with each other. In this way he had a chance to interfere, and secure himself a place, in Greek affairs. Therefore, the second proposed amendment to the peace of Philocrates, the “autonomy clause,” was intended to put a further check on Philip’s ambitions by protecting the status of all cities, including those that did not participate in the peace of Philocrates. This amendment denied Philip the opportunity to extend his power by changing the political régimes in Greek cities and, in this way, created a casus belli for his opponents. Although not ratified by Philip, the amendment supporting the “autonomy clause” would have been taken quite seriously by the Greeks. In 340, it was Philip’s siege of Perinthus, and of Byzantium, that started the hostilities between him and the Greeks. Philip’s victory near Chaeronea was sealed by his peace treaty with the Greeks in 338–337. This treaty was followed by the foundation of the Corinthian League, which brings us to the second of the three above-mentioned problems. A speech from the Demosthenic corpus, but hardly by Demosthenes himself, says that Philip established a “common peace” and that the compact stipulated that all those sharing in the peace should help any other member state if it was being attacked. Although this speech was delivered under Alexander’s rule, its use as a source for understanding Philip’s politics has been justified. This speech is also paralleled by Aeschines’s reference to the “common peace” in place in Greece while under Macedonian rule and by a fragmented inscription (R&O 76a) stating that (i) the interests of those who “shared in the peace” were to be protected; (ii) their territorial and political integrity, including the possessions of Philip and his descendants,

35. D.H. Epist. ad Amm. 1.11 = FGrH 328 (Philochoros) FF 53–55a and Diod. 16.77.2, with the editorial commentary in The Story of Athens: The Fragments of the Local Chronicles of Attika, ed. and trans. Ph. Harding (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), 163. See esp. Beloch, Geschichte, 3(1): 555–556; cf. Beloch, Politik, 222–223; P. Cloché, Un fondateur d’empire: Philippe II, roi de Macédoine (SaintÉtienne: Dumas, 1955), 246–248; E. Badian, “Philippos II.,” in NPauly 9 (2000): 801; Hornblower, Greek World, 278. Philip’s siege of Byzantium put Athens’ grain supply at risk. However, the fact that the Athenians, acting on Demosthenes’s proposal, destroyed the marble stele that bore the text of their treaty with Philip (D.H. Epist. ad Amm. 1.11 = FGrH 328 [Philochoros] FF 53–55a.) suggests that the formal reason for declaring a war was that Philip had violated the treaty, as he besieged Byzantium. John Buckler and Ian Worthington (“IG II 236 and Philip’s Common Peace of 337,” 219 with n. 26) appear to be the only supporters of the theory that it was Philip who started a war against Athens. 36. [Dem.] 17.2, 4, 6. 37. E.g., Ryder, Eirene, 150–151, 159.

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were to be guaranteed; and (iii) each of the participants was obliged to go to a war against anyone undermining this agreement. Philip’s arrangement of Greek affairs has been presented as being only a “common peace” or only a military alliance, or as being a combination of both. Opinions on this matter have considerably disagreed, and no solution that would satisfy everybody has been found. The above-mentioned inscription (R&O 76a) indeed refers to the common council (synedrion) and the military leader (hegemon). Some have found it possible to view R&O 76a as being part of the charter of the Corinthian League, as did Buckler and Ager, who interpreted this text as both the “constitution” of the League of Corinth and a “common peace treaty.” But the same inscription also mentions the oaths that had already been sworn to in the peace of 338–337 and, therefore, makes a distinction between the peace treaty and Philip’s military alliance, which allowed Ryder to view this inscription and the speech on Halonnesus as concerning the same treaty of peace established by Philip. Later authors who wrote about Philip and his son reveal the same distinction between the treaty of peace and Philip’s military alliance. In the words of Plutarch, Phocion urged the Athenians to have their city participate

38. Aeschin. 3.254 (with reference to the treaty of 338–337 b.c.); R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2).8–10 and 19–20. Cf., however, Worthington, “IG II 236 and Philip’s Common Peace of 337,” 217, who interpreted R&O 76a as referring not to the Peace of 337 but to a bilateral treaty of peace between Philip and Athens, which they established after the battle of Chaeronea. 39. U. Wilcken, Beiträge zur Geschichte des korinthischen Bundes (Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1917), 5–8, and Wilcken, Philipp II., 299–300; Tod ad GHI 177, p. 227; Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 411–412; Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 70; Raue, “Untersuchungen,” 22–24; Hampl, Staatsverträge, 34–35, 47; C. A. Roebuck, “The Settlements of Philip II with the Greek States in 338 b.c.,” CP 43 (1948): 74; Welles, “Liberty,” 38; Ryder, Eirene, 151–154; Perlman, “Tradition,” 168–169; N. G. L. Hammond, in HM 3, 571; Jehne, Eirene, 152–157, 176–179; Beck, Polis, 244; Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 112; P. J. Rhodes, “Korinthischer Bund,” in NPauly 6 (1999): 742; J. B. Salmon, “Corinth, League of,” in OCD, 391; Ziesmann, Autonomie und Münzprägung, 82. 40. E.g., Hampl, “Philippos,” 419; Hampl, Staatsverträge, 48–54; Momigliano, Pace, 36; Aymard, Le monde grec, 182–183; Jehne, Eirene, 153–154, 157; Ryder, Eirene, 151, 153–154; J. R. Ellis, Philip II and Macedonian Imperialism (London: Thames and Hudson, 1976), 208–210; Gehrke, Jenseits, 73; Rhodes, History, 358; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 4, 40, and 250 (with bibliography). 41. Overviews: Schmitt, in Staatsverträge 3, p. 13; F. Schehl, “Zum Korinthischen Bund vom Jahre 338–337 v. Chr.,” JÖAI 27 (1931): 115; Roebuck, “Settlements,” 82 n. 60; K. Dienelt, “Der Korinthische Bund,” JÖAI 43 (1958): 250–252; Perlman, “Tradition,” 155–156. 42. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2). 43. Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 116; Ager, Arbitrations, 39–43. Cf. E. Poddighe, “Alexander and the Greeks: The Corinthian League,” in Alexander the Great: A New History, ed. W. Heckel and L. A. Trittle (Malden and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), 99: “this was a league of autonomous Greek states (excluding Sparta) that in early 337 proclaimed peace and autonomy for the Greeks.” 44. Cf. Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 114–115: “peace preceded the formal congress at Corinth,” 117. 45. Ryder, Eirene, 152. Cf. Momigliano, Filippo, 163–164: a “common peace” with the synedrion, referring to the (Athens) Peace of 371.

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in the Peace and the council of the Greeks. According to Arrian, after the battle of Gaugamela and the death of Darius, Alexander released the other Greeks who had served as mercenaries to the Persians prior to the Peace and the conclusion of the alliance between the Greeks and Macedonia. And Justin tells us that at Corinth, Philip laid down conditions of the Peace and established the common council of the Greeks. But the Peace and alliance established by Philip were neither independent of each other nor the same: the League of Corinth operated within the framework of the Macedonian Peace. This was nothing new, of course: the Peloponnesian League had acted within the framework of the King’s Peace (the Spartans swore on behalf of their allies in 386, 375, and 371); the Athens Peace both acknowledged the principles of the King’s Peace and warranted the existence of the Second Athenian Confederacy; and when the Thebans tried to establish their own Peace in the early 360s, they suggested that the people of Corinth and other cities join not only in the new Peace but also in an alliance with Thebes. Such similarities have already been noted, in particular by Buckler, who correctly observed that “the ‘Charter of the League of Corinth’ most closely resembles that of the Second Athenian Confederacy, which was also made within the framework of an existing peace.” However, the King’s Peace protected the autonomy and freedom of all Greek cities (except those subject to Persia), including those for whom oaths were given by the Spartans. The situation changed with the establishment of the Athens Peace of 371, which acknowledged a military alliance (that of Athens, of course) within the

46. Plut. Phoc. 16.4; Arr. 3.24.5; Iust. 9.5.2. See Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 409–412. As we shall see below, Philip’s choice of Corinth as the place of the headquarters of his Hellenic League would be followed by those who tried to resurrect the Hellenic League and made declarations of Greek freedom. However, Philip himself most likely chose Corinth because of its special rôle in the history of the Greek fight for freedom against Persia: e.g., Sakellariou, “Panhellenism,” 142. Pausanias, “the hero of Plataea,” brought the medizing Thebans to Corinth to be executed there (Herodot. 9.86, 88). Hence, the suggestion that Corinth served as the headquarters of the Greeks in their war against the Persians looks very probable: Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 82–83. See also Herodot. 7.195. Cf. M. Dixon, “Corinth, Greek Freedom, and the Diadochoi, 323–301 BC,” in Alexander’s Empire: Formulation to Decay, ed. W. Heckel et al. (Claremont, Calif.: Regina Books, 2007), 151, who asserted that in 480, “the Greeks met at the Isthmos of Corinth and established the Hellenic League,” with reference to Herodot. 7.145 that does not seem to offer that kind of information. 47. Different forms of the interrelationship between the Macedonian Peace and the League of Corinth have been suggested: Wilcken, Philipp II., 12; Bengtson, Geschichte, 327, and Schehl, “Bund,” 115– 145, and Dienelt, “Bund,” 263–264; W. Schwahn, “Zu IG II 160,” RhM 78 (1929): 189; Buckler, Greece, 511. 48. As also Raue, “Untersuchungen,” 22–24, 27. Cf. opinions about two stages in this development: e.g., N. G. L. Hammond, in HM 3, 572–574: a “common peace” and a military alliance, and Worthington, Philip II, xviii: “Philip’s Common Peace settlement” in 338, and “League of Corinth formally constituted” in 337. 49. Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 116 = Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 251.

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framework of the principles that had become associated, in retrospect, with the King’s Peace. Hence, the Athens Peace both upheld the “autonomy” and “freedom” of all the Greeks (because this is what the King’s Peace had claimed to support, as was seen from the late 370s) and protected the “freedom and autonomy” of the members of the Second Confederacy (because they were obliged to help each other as allies). The peace of 362–361 was probably of the same nature, even though, as has been said previously, there does not seem to be enough evidence to come to any definite conclusions on this matter. The appearance of the phrase koine eirene, first documented in the late 360s and usually translated as “common peace,” reflects this important change in the understanding of peace: it started to protect those who actually participated in it. This later understanding would then be projected retrospectively by some ancient and modern authors alike, who saw all earlier treaties of Peace (including the first and most important of them all, the King’s Peace) as treaties of “common peace.” There was an important difference, however, between earlier treaties of Peace (from the 380s and 370s) and a treaty of “common peace” (which first became documented in the late 360s): the former were bilateral agreements that, in addition to directly protecting the status of participants (both protagonists and their allies), also put a check on their ambitions by pledging to preserve the status of all non-participating cities as well; the latter only pledged to protect the status of the participants in a treaty, even though they could include almost all cities in Greece. These two kinds of treaties could protect almost all of the Greeks in the end. But since a “common peace” meant a “comprehensive peace” and only protected the participants (and this is how it has been traditionally understood), it would be inappropriate to extend this definition to the treaties from the 380s and 370s. The confusion concerning the nature of the Corinthian League appears to have emerged because the development of the idea of Peace reached its ultimate point after Philip’s victory at Chaeronea. Like every Peace since the King’s Peace, the Macedonian Peace of 338–337 claimed to protect the autonomy and freedom (the latter word would only later become associated with the King’s Peace) of all the Greeks. However, because all Greeks (with the exception of Sparta) shared in Philip’s Macedonian Peace, the latter Peace in fact protected the autonomy and freedom of only those Greeks who participated in it. For this reason, and because

50. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2 (see p. 50, n. 246). 51. Schwahn, “Zu IG II 160,” 196, very perceptively noted that “these were ἐλευθερία and αὐτονομία – sovereignty – which Hellenistic states guaranteed in the introduction of the peace treaty (εὐθὺς ἐν ἀρχῇ: Ps.-Dem. 17.8), just as in the introduction [of the charter] of the Second Athenian Confederacy.” 52. E.g., Iust. 9.5.3: soli Lacedaemonii et regem et leges contempserunt, servitutem, non pacem rati.

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the League of Corinth included all those who had sworn to the Macedonian Peace, the relationship between having the Peace and having a military alliance became transformed in two significant ways. First, the Macedonian Peace, in fact, protected only the freedom and autonomy of member states of the League of Corinth. Hence, some have even gone as far as to deny the existence of a military alliance between Philip and the Greeks. Second, the “sanctions clause,” which was a necessary feature for any military alliance, turned out to protect the Macedonian Peace established by Philip. In particular, the text that may have been the charter for the League of Corinth appears to have protected the political régimes of Greek cities, and of the Macedonian kingdom, as they were when the new Peace was established. A similar clause had already been present in the peace of Philocrates that also acknowledged a military alliance. This situation was indeed reminiscent of the Second Athenian Confederacy, whose “charter” protected the freedom and autonomy both of the members of the Confederacy and of all the Greeks in general: this “charter,” therefore, served as the founding document for a military alliance and, at the same time, upheld, if only as a formality, the principles of the King’s Peace. The principles on which the League of Corinth was founded were the same as those of the Second Athenian Confederacy: the peace and the alliance were separate, even though closely interconnected. The difference was that the Second Athenian Confederacy included only some Greek cities, and its political framework, the Athens Peace, was established later, whereas Philip first established his Macedonian Peace and then used it as the framework for the League of Corinth, which included almost all Greek states. Such evidence says neither that the Peace and the alliance were the same nor that they were concluded at the same time, but that they were now like two sides of the same coin. Not surprisingly, the Spartans, who refused to join the Macedonian Peace of 338–337, did not participate in the military campaign of the Corinthian League either. This situation is most visibly demonstrated by the inscription put up after the battle of the Granicus: “Alexander son of Philip and the

53. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2). 54. E.g., G. Dobesch, “Alexander der Grosse und der Korinthische Bund,” Grazer Beiträge 3 (1975): 76. 55. E.g., Schehl, “Bund,” 135; Ryder, Eirene, 151–154, 157–159. 56. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2).8–10. 57. Dem. 19.48, with further evidence in Staatsverträge 2, no. 329. 58. Cf. Dobesch, “Alexander,” 76–77; Rhodes, “Bund,” 742. 59. E.g., Raue, “Untersuchungen,” 26. Cf. G. L. Cawkwell, “The Crowning of Demosthenes,” CQ, n.s., 19 (1969): 167: the League of Corinth “may not have been founded until well on in 337.”

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Greeks, except the Spartans, set up these spoils from the barbarians dwelling in Asia.” The Macedonian Peace was, therefore, indeed a “common peace” in the meaning traditionally ascribed to this phrase, that is, by virtue of embracing all Greek states (with the exception of Sparta). But Philip continued to treat Greek cities individually: they swore to his new Peace “city by city,” just as they had to the King’s Peace and those that followed later, with the exception of Sparta and her allies in 386, 375, and (the Sparta Peace of) 371, and Athens and her allies in (the Athens Peace of) 371, of course. The rationale behind this treatment was always the same: by using the slogans of “autonomy” and, later, “freedom,” and thus formally protecting Greek states from each other, such Peace treaties undermined existing military alliances. This observation brings us to the last remaining of the three previously stated aspects of Philip’s relations with the Greeks. As we shall see, although our evidence about Greek alliances in the time of the Macedonian Peace is quite limited (which itself probably testifies to their suppressed position at that time), this evidence shows that Philip either stamped out or profoundly transformed such military alliances. Philip had already embarked on this policy before his victory at Chaeronea, by overcoming and abolishing the Chalcidian League in 348. If the Phocian League survived in the aftermath of the Third Sacred War (traditionally dated to 355– 346), it lost its former significance and became engaged, almost exclusively, in collecting tributes from its members. Philip razed Phocian cities (with the exception of Abae) and resettled the disarmed Phocians into villages no larger than fifty houses in number, each a stade apart. It was understood that the Phocians were

60. Arr. 1.16.7; Plut. Alex. 16.8; Hamilton, “Sparta,” 61. 61. Ael., VH 6.1, with Griffith, in HM, 2:604; Iust. 9.5.2, and important observations of A. Giovannini, Les relations entre États dans la Grèce antique du temps d’Homère à l’intervention romaine (ca.700–200 av. J.-C.) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 394. 62. Overviews: A. Aymard, “Un ordre d’Alexandre,” RÉA 39 (1937): 5–6; I. Worthington, “Hyper. 5 Dem. 18 and Alexander’s Second Directive to the Greeks,” C&M 37 (1986): 116–117). Cf. Hornblower, Greek World, 279–280, and Giovannini, Relations, 394 (who emphasized that by the time the League of Corinth was set up, Philip had already established bilateral agreements with many Greek cities, which would remain “the institutional base” of Philip’s hegemony in Greece). 63. Zahrnt, “Chalkidike,” 1088; U. Westermark, in Studies in Ancient History and Numismatics Presented to R. Thomsen ([Aarhus]: Aarhus University Press, 1988), 91–103; Psoma, Olynthe, 246–247, 251; Giovannini, Relations, 392; Worthington, Philip II, 78. 64. E.g., P. Green, in A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography, vol. 1, ed. J. Marincola (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 366. For dating the beginning of this war to the autumn or winter of 356: Sánchez, L’Amphictionie, 173, 189. His “high chronology” changes nothing in my argument. 65. Dem. 18.43; Diod. 16.60.1–2; Paus. 10.3.3, 10.33.8. See G. Busolt, Griechische Staatskunde. Bearbeitet von H. Swoboda (Munich: Beck, 1926), 2:1448–1449; Beck, Polis, 114, 118; Griffith, in HM, 2:592; O. Schmitt, Der lamische Krieg (Bonn: Habelt, 1992), 94–95; Roebuck, “Settlements,” 77–78.

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disarmed for the time they would spend repaying the damage to the sanctuary. It is probable that other conditions imposed on the Phocians, such as their new form of settlement, were based on the same provision. The immense amount of money that the Phocians had to repay made it clear, however, that Philip had established the new arrangement of Phocis for generations to come. Some such cities would be rebuilt by the Thebans and Athenians on the eve of the battle of Chaeronea, in which the Phocians were fighting against Philip. The Thessalian League was also reorganized by Philip, who subdued it by using the internal discord of the Thessalians and their war against the Phocians. He further weakened this League’s power by putting the Thessalian perioikoi under his control (thus ensuring their “protection”) and by establishing the tetrarchies, whose heads he appointed himself. Although we cannot be certain, it is tempting to connect Philip’s reorganization of the Thessalian League with the mocking words that Aeschines addressed to Demosthenes in 330: “You cause a revolt of the Thessalians? Could you cause the revolt of a village?” In a similar fashion, Philip resettled the Phocians in villages, thus breaking their unity. By dividing the Thessalian League into tetrarchies (or kat’ethne, in the words of Demosthenes), and by establishing direct relations with its constituent parts (such as cities and tribes), Philip effectively eliminated any chance of a joint action by the Thessalians. Aeschines’s words about the Thessalians as “villagers” should have been referring to Philip’s reorganization of Thessaly. Philip obviously continued the same policy in Thessaly after he established himself as the master of all Greece. We probably

66. E.g., Dem. 19.81 and 204; Diod. 16.60.1–2; Paus. 10.3.1–3. 67. See Appendix 5. 68. Isocr. 5.20–21; M. Sordi, La lega thessala (Rome: Istituto italiano per la storia antica, 1958), 285–286; H. D. Westlake, Thessaly in the Fourth Century b.c. (Groningen: Boekhuis, 1969), 179; Griffith, in HM, 2:291–293, 540. 69. FGrH 115 (Theopompos) FF 208 (= Harpocr. s.v. τετραρχία) and 209 (= Athenae. 6, p. 249c); see Appendix 5 ( 11 and 12, respectively). For the synonymity of tetrarchiai and tetradai: F. Gschnitzer, in Historia 82 (1954): 451–464. On these officials as tetradarchoi: B. Helly, L’État thessalien (Lyon: Maison de l’Orient Méditerranéen, 1995), 56–59. The date: Worthington, Philip II, xvii, 111 (344). See esp. Th. R. Martin, Sovereignty and Coinage in Classical Greece (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985), 67–68, 105–106, who seems to be the only one to question the dominant theory postulating that what Philip was doing was resurrecting the old administrative system of the Thessalians, and, therefore, to question the idea that the tetrarchs replaced the polemarchs. 70. Aeschin. 3.167 (Appendix 5,  14). Phocians: Dem. 18.43; Diod. 16.60.1–2; Paus. 10.3.3, 10.33.8 (see also n. 65 above). 71. Dem. 9.26; Polyaen. 4.2.19. The meaning of the “Council of Ten” (dekadarchia), which was introduced under Philip (Dem. 6.22; see Appendix 5,  7), has been debated. Westlake, Thessaly, 197–198, saw it as the internal reorganization of the Thessalian cities, whereas the tetrarchies were seen as the new organization of Thessaly. 72. Aeschin. 3.167 (see n. 70 above and Appendix 5,  14).

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see a remnant of this policy in 184–183, when, among other Greeks, the Thessalians sent to Rome “one general embassy and particular ones from each town.” Narrating the events that took place after Philip’s victory at Chaeronea, Pausanias says that the Second Athenian Confederacy was dissolved by Philip and that Philip took away Athens’ islands. A later source tells us, however, that after the victory of Philip at Chaeronea, Demosthenes “made a cruise in a trireme to the allied cities collecting money.” And, as we know, Athens retained Samos and several other islands until the death of Alexander, which might also cast doubts on Pausanias’s information regarding Philip’s putting an end to the Second Athenian Confederacy. No direct evidence exists to confirm the information from Pausanias. Even if the Second Athenian Confederacy did survive in some form, its political and military significance was close to zero, so that Athens had to build a new military alliance once the Lamian war was getting under way. As for the Achaean League, some think that it persisted throughout the reigns of both Philip and Alexander, and even survived unchanged. The evidence typically adduced in support of this idea is a fragmented passage from one of Hyperides’s orations: καὶ περὶ τοὺς κοινοὺς συλλόγους Ἀχαιῶν τε καὶ Ἀρκάδων καὶ Βοιωτῶν καὶ τῶν ἄλλων μῆ γίγνεσθαι (the text of the papyrus breaks at this point), referring to what has been plausibly interpreted as Alexander’s request for military levies from “the Achaeans, Arcadians, Boeotians, and the rest.” But such general comments cannot by themselves prove that these names referred to the Leagues as they existed in the pre-Macedonian period. For example, “the Boeotians” clearly did not include the people of Thebes, who rebelled and had their city destroyed by Alexander in 335. At that time, the council (synedrion) of Alexander’s Macedonian League included representatives of such Boeotian cities as Plataea, Orchomenus, and Thespiae,

73. Polyb. 23.1.10; cf. Liv. 39.46.7–8. 74. Paus. 1.25.2. The opinion that Philip dissolved the Athenian Confederacy: e.g., Ellis, Philip II, 199; Roebuck, “Settlements,” 73, 81; Buckler, Greece, 507; Worthington, Philip II, xviii (338 b.c.). 75. [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846A. 76. Lemnos: Arist. Ath.Pol. 61.6, 62.2. Samos: Arist. Ath.Pol. 62.2; Plut. Alex. 28; Diog. Laert. 10.1.1; Diod. 18.56.6–7. Scyros: Arist. Ath.Pol. 62.2. Imbros: Arist. Ath.Pol. 62.2. Delos: Arist. Ath.Pol. 62.2; IG II 1653 (332–331 b.c.). See also [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846A . 77. E.g., É. Will, Histoire politique du monde hellénistique (323–30 av. J.-C.) (Nancy: Berger-Leurault, 1966), 1:27–28; É. Will, “The Succession to Alexander,” in CAH 7.1 (1984): 30–32; Chr. Habicht, Athens from Alexander to Antony, trans. D. L. Schneider (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), 36–38. 78. Roebuck, “Settlements,” 73 n. 1, 83–84, 89; Griffith, in HM, 2:615; Worthington, “Hyper. 5 Dem. 18,” 115–121. 79. Aymard, “Un ordre,” 15; Jehne, Eirene, 142 n. 23; Corsten, Stamm, 164–165, 172. 80. Hyperid. 5.18; Worthington, “Hyper. 5 Dem. 18,” 115–121.

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who participated on an individual basis. According to Demosthenes, the independence of Boeotia from Theban control and the repopulation of Thespiae and Plataea had been among the topics agreed upon by Philip and the Athenian ambassadors during the negotiations that led to the peace of Philocrates in 346. Here the declared intentions of Philip and Athens coincided; although Philip then appeared reluctant to immediately implement this plan, Alexander can be viewed as following in Philip’s footsteps in this as well. The evidence for the survival of the Boeotian Federation by 324 in Hyperides has been questioned, largely on textual grounds, in connection with the reconstruction of his text. Arrian’s reference to the boeotarchs, which has been the other major argument in support of the survival of the Boeotian Federation, appears to be similarly indecisive, because he mentions them only in the context of the Theban revolt in 335. His words, therefore, leave it unclear whether the Boeotian Federation survived in its old form until Alexander demolished Thebes in 335 or had just been resurrected on a limited basis by the rebellious Thebans, as they did after they recaptured the Cadmea from the Spartans in 379. Evidence about the people of Plataea, Orchomenus, and Thespiae having participated in Alexander’s destruction of Thebes as “allies” of Alexander and as members of his council suggests that these cities had been restored by Philip. Their restoration should have been part of Philip’s transformation of the Boeotian Federation into an ethnos. The Boeotian Federation received the same treatment from both Philip and Alexander, as did the Thessalians in the 340s (see Appendix 5) and the Aetolians in the 330s (see below). Alexander’s destruction of Thebes appears, therefore, to have been quite in line with his father’s policy toward the Boeotians, or toward all Greeks for that matter: under the slogan of protecting the freedom of the Greeks, all existing alliances were dissolved and/or transformed into a conglomeration of “peoples” (ethne) and city-states, with

81. Aeschin. 2.104; Dem. 19.21, 112, 220. For the synedrion of Alexander, see n. 85 below. 82. Aymard, “Un ordre,” 7–9; Roebuck, “Settlements,” 80. 83. Arr. 1.7.11 with Momigliano, Filippo, 159; Hornblower, Greek World, 279. 84. See p. 40 with nn. 176–181. 85. Momigliano, Filippo, 159; Cawkwell, Philip, 167–168; B. Gullath, Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Boiotiens in der Zeit Alexanders und der Diadochen (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1982), 12–16; Jehne, Eirene, 142; H.-J. Gehrke, Stasis: Untersuchungen zu den inneren Kriegen in den griechischen Staaten des 5. und 4. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. (Munich: Beck, 1985), 183. 86. Gullath, Untersuchungen, 8–12; Cawkwell, Philip, 168, 205; Griffith, in HM, 2:615; Jehne, Eirene, 142 n. 24; Corsten, Stamm, 38, 60; Buckler, Greece, 507; H. Halfmann, “Die politische Beziehungen zwischen Griechenland und den Diadochen,” in Migratio et Commutatio: Studien zur alten Geschichte und deren Nachleben, Th. Pékary zum 60. Geburtstag am 13. September 1989 dargebracht von Freunden, Kollegen und Schülern, ed. H.-J. Drexhage and J. Sünskes (St. Katharinen: Scripta Mercaturae, 1989), 33–34.

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which the Macedonian king dealt on an individual basis. The Theban revolt against Alexander, which proceeded under the slogan of Greek freedom and with reference to the King’s Peace (as we shall see below), should have been accompanied by the Thebans’ attempt to reestablish their control over Boeotian cities. Hence, after the death of Alexander, the Boeotians—who had divided the land and property of the Thebans—would give their support to Antipater. The surviving evidence thus shows that the use of the same words does not imply the same meaning: the “Boeotians” of Hyperides referred not to the Boeotian Federation but to the “people” or “tribe” of the Boeotians. If we return to the Achaean League, therefore, Hyperides’s reference to the “Achaeans” (and to the “Arcadians,” whom he mentioned in this passage as well) should have had a similarly broad meaning. Further relevant evidence includes Polybios’s description of the political situation in Greece in the 280s. In his words, “after the death of Alexander and previous to the above Olympiad (i.e., the 124th) they (i.e., the cities of the Achaeans) fell, chiefly thanks to the kings of Macedonia, into such a state of discord and ill-feeling that all the cities separated from the League and began to act against each other.” André Aymard concluded that the Achaean League dissolved after the death of Alexander. Polybios, however, preceded that phrase with the following one: “down to the reigns of Alexander and Philip, their fortunes varied according to circumstances, but they (i.e., the Achaeans) always endeavored, as I said, to keep their League a democracy.” Why he mentioned the two kings in this order has been much debated. What is clear, however, is that their reigns constituted a separate period in the history of the Achaean League and that this League’s eventual demise resulted from the policy of Philip and Alexander. What was this policy? Most likely it was the same policy as the two kings pursued with respect to other Leagues, namely turning them into agglomerations of “peoples” or “tribes” or “nations” or individual cities, whose unity, if any, only concerned cultural and religious activities. Hence, there was discord among the Achaeans after the death of Alexander, when, as one might suspect, the unity of the Achaean League started to tighten in a way that went beyond the limits of mere cultural and religious cooperation. This appears to be similar to what would happen in Arcadia, as we shall see below.

87. For the revolt of Thebes, see the second part of this chapter. 88. Hyperid. 5.18 (see n. 80 above). 89. Polyb. 2.41.9. Aymard, “Un ordre,” 22: “the disappearance of the koinon thus postdates June 323.” 90. Polyb. 2.41.6. Aymard, “Un ordre,” 20–22 (on Polybios’s reference to “Alexander and Philip”) and 23. 91. Just as it happened to the Achaeans after the Roman suppression of Nabis’s power in 195; see chapter 9.

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A further piece of relevant evidence is seen in the use of the word “Achaeans” in the description of the Spartan revolt, under the leadership of Agis III in 331, by Aeschines (“the Elaeans and the Achaeans, all but the people of Pellene, had come over to [the Spartans], and so had all Arcadia except Megalopolis”) and by Dinarchos (“the Spartans took the field together and Achaeans and men of Elis were taking part in the campaign with ten thousand mercenaries also”). These passages have been interpreted as demonstrating that the Achaean League and Arcadian League had survived in their same forms at least until 331. Aeschines’s reference to Pellene also brings this information together with the evidence found in an oration from the Demosthenic corpus, which mentions “the Achaeans in the Peloponnese” in general terms, before proceeding to the city of Pellene as a particular example. The accusation of the author of this oration was that the political régime of Pellene had been changed by Alexander from what this city had enjoyed at the time it joined in the Peace, even though all cities were supposed to retain the same “constitutions” that they had at that moment. He obviously referred to the Macedonian Peace, which was established by Philip after the battle of Chaeronea and which protected the “constitutions” of Greek cities as they were at the time they signed the Peace. As we have seen above, however, the Greeks swore to the Macedonian Peace “city by city,” which allowed (Philip and) Alexander to treat Greek cities, such as Pellene, individually. “The Achaeans in the Peloponnese,” in the oration from the Demosthenic corpus, turns out to have had a general meaning, similar to “the Achaeans” in the above-mentioned passages of Aeschines and Dinarchos. No clear indication exists, therefore, that the Achaean League endured in its same form during the reigns of Philip II and his son. The Aetolians appear to have occupied a similar position in 335, when their ambassadors presented themselves to Alexander kata ethne, in the words of Arrian. The political unity of the Aetolians had given way to a representation either by three main tribes or by even smaller units. Therefore, although the Aetolian League seems to have survived under Philip and Alexander, it should have lost

92. Aeschin. 3.165; Dinarch. 1.34. 93. E.g., Aymard, “Un ordre,” 15 (with n. 2). 94. [Dem.] 17.10. 95. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2).8–10. 96. Ael., VH 6.1 (see n. 61 above); Iust. 9.5.2. Examining Aeschin. 3.165 and [Dem.] 17.10 together allows us to set 331 as the terminus ante quem for Alexander’s change to the political régime in Pellene. 97. Arr. 1.10.2: Αἰτωλοὶ δὲ πρεσβείας σφῶν κατὰ ἔθνη πέμψαντες. Pace Beck, Polis, 49 n. 28. For the meaning of presbeia in this context: Sordi, Scritti, 41, 49–50; Corsten, Stamm, 137 n. 136. 98. E.g., IG II 358.13: [— τὸ κοινὸ]ν τῶν Αἰτωλῶν (327–326 b.c.).

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both much of its political and military importance and much of its former cohesiveness. Here, too, Philip might have claimed that he had only restored what existed previously. However, while speaking about these three Aetolian tribes in earlier times (late fifth century), Thucydides refers to them as three “parts” of the Aetolians and as “unwalled villages,” which continued into the late fourth century. Philip thus divided the Aetolians and introduced, or resurrected, a village type of organization, that is precisely as he did for the Phocians and for the Thessalians. He similarly dismantled the Acarnanian League into pieces. In the period after the battle of Chaeronea until the death of Alexander, this League was mentioned only in a passage from Diodoros and in an inscription from Argos that listed ambassadors from Acarnanian cities at the regular celebration in honor of Asclepios. The Acarnanians, therefore, continued as a “people” (ethnos). However, no strategoi of the Acarnanian League have been attested from that time, quite unlike what we know about the periods preceding and following the Macedonian Peace. This silence suggests that the Acarnanian League either disappeared or lost any real political and military significance. Numismatic evidence leads to the same conclusion. Irrespective of whether the silver coinage of Leucae, which consists largely of restruck coins of Philip II and Alexander III, should be dated to 314 or after (Imhoof-Blumer) or to “around the second and third quarter” of the fourth century (Corsten), neither opinion had anything to say about the existence of the independent coinage of Leucae during the time of the Macedonian Peace. At the same time, Leucae most likely continued its membership in the Acarnanian League during this period, because the above-mentioned inscription from Argos listed Leucae among those Acarnanian cities that sent envoys to the festival of Asclepios around 330. For this reason, it seems possible to extend the observation about Leucae’s coinage to the Acarnanian League as a whole. Summing up, what we know about the Acarnanian League shows that Philip profoundly transformed it, just as he transformed the Boeotian Federation and several other Greek alliances.

99. Thuc. 3.94.4–5; Sordi, Scritti, 50. 100. The Phocians: Dem. 19.81, 204; Diod. 16.60; Paus. 10.3.3, 10.33.8 (see nn. 65–66 above); the Thessalians: Appendix 5. 101. P. Charneux, “Liste argienne de théarodoques,” BCH 90 (1966): 156–239 = SEG 23, 189 (c.330 b.c.). 102. Before: Thuc. 3.107.2, 3.109.1, 3.111.3. After: Staatsverträge 3, no. 480.22–24 (c.263–262?). 103. F. Imhoof-Blumer, Die Münzen Akarnaniens (Vienna: Kaiserl.-Königl. Hof- und Staatsdruckerei, 1878), 22–23; Corsten, Stamm, 129. Unfortunately, Ziesmann, Autonomie und Münzprägung, 79–85, did not discuss this matter. 104. As Corsten, Stamm, 132; Charneux, “Liste argienne,” 166, 178–179, 181 = SEG 23, 189 (c.330b.c.).

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Those who argue that the Arcadian League survived under the Macedonian rule usually refer to the above-mentioned excerpt from Hyperides’s oration. However, while this excerpt might indicate the continued existence of the Arcadian League in the time of the Macedonian Peace, it does not show its nature during that period. For example, Xenophon says that in 363–362 the Arcadians became divided into two factions that gravitated toward two major urban centers: those who lived in the north (Mantinea) and those in the south (Megalopolis), although individual cities of the Arcadians could still be engaged in various activities on their own. This division had surfaced several years earlier, after the Spartan domination over Arcadia collapsed following the battle of Leuctra. At that time, some proposed uniting all Arcadians into one League with a common assembly and a common council, so that their decisions (at least on matters of war and peace) would be binding for all. In practical terms, this proposal meant tightening external control over individual cities. The result was the division of the Arcadians into two factions, which started a war among themselves, and the subsequent intervention of the Spartans and the Thebans, each on behalf of a different faction. The Arcadian League seems to have been established, gradually, by the late 360s. However, its unity does not look to have been strong even at that time, thus undermining the idea that this League included all the Arcadians by 370, as advocated by Roy: “Xenophon says that Orchomenus refused to join the Arkadikon, thus making it clear that an Arcadian League had been created by the time Sparta attacked in late 370s b.c.” Xenophon also makes it clear, however, that not all Arcadians participated in this “League” and says that the Heraeans and Lepraeans were “serving with the Lacedaemonians against the Mantineans.” Thus the “League” originally included only a part of the Arcadians, before being extended to the rest. Internal conflicts between its members would still provoke interference from Sparta and Thebes. And Pausanias says that at the battle of Mantinea (362), the Mantineans rejoined the Spartan alliance “out of fear of Thebes.”

105. Hyperid. 5.18 (see n. 80 above); Jehne, Eirene, 146. Cf. no discussion of this League: Corsten, Stamm, 61–66. 106. Xen. Hellen. 7.5.1–6. Cf. IG IV.1, 94.I.b.39 (a citizen of Pythion served as theorodokos for Epidaurus), with Th. H. Nielsen, Arkadia and Its Poleis in the Archaic and Classical Periods (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002), 315 (c.365–311). 107. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.6–9; Diod. 15.59.1–4. See Gehrke, Stasis, 154–158. 108. Roy, “Thebes,” 190, with reference to Xen. Hellen. 6.5.10–11. But see next note and in the text. 109. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.11. 110. Xen. Hellen. 7.5.1–5; Diod. 15.82.2–5. 111. Paus. 8.8.10; see also Plut. Ages. 34.3.

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This was an interesting turn, because after the battle of Leuctra in 371 and the fall of Spartan domination, the Mantineans claimed they had restored not only their city but also their “autonomy.” The Thebans had been behind the rebuilding of Mantinea, as well as the foundation of Megalopolis, all of which formed part of Thebes’ anti-Spartan activities. In a similar fashion, the slogans of autonomy and freedom were used by Thebes against Sparta in Arcadia. However, the refoundation and strengthening of the Arcadian League after 371, which at that moment corresponded to Thebes’ interests, undermined the independence of the newly rebuilt Mantinea. Hence, Pausanias’s reference to Mantinea’s “fear of Thebes” and Xenophon’s words that, similar to the Elaeans and the Achaeans, the Mantineans suspected Thebes of a desire to “enslave” the Peloponnese. The slogan of autonomy was thus used by Sparta to break Mantinea into villages in order to better control Arcadia; by Thebes to rebuild Mantinea and the Arcadian League as a whole, which served to counterbalance the power of Sparta; and by the Mantineans themselves to protect the independence of their city from both the Thebans and the Arcadian League, first by joining the Spartan League, and then (resisting pressure from the Spartans), by going over to the Achaean League. The division among the Arcadians, however, would continue. For example, in 342, the Athenians made a treaty with several Peloponnesian states, including “the Arcadians that followed the Mantineans” and Megalopolis. In a way similar to the Thebans’ actions several decades earlier, Philip revitalized the Arcadian League as a counterbalance to Sparta. However, the Arcadian League was likely to retain its internal discord, which was further fueled by Philip, who obviously organized the Arcadian League on the same principles as other alliances in Greece, that is, by breaking them into smaller parts and claiming to protect their “freedom” and “independence” from each other. As a result, he placed himself above them all and dealt with each of them on an individual basis. This is what Polybios had in mind when he said that Philip assigned parts of Spartan territory to the Tegeans and Megalopolitans, thus setting up the Arcadians against Sparta and furthering the discord among the Arcadians themselves. These same divisions would survive

112. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.3, 5, 10–11. 113. Paus. 8.8.10, 9.14.4–5. 114. Xen. Hellen. 7.5.1–3. 115. Paus. 8.8.11. 116. See also Dušanić, League, 334–337, 345. 117. Schol. Aeschin. 3.83 and Staatsverträge 2, no. 337, with Luraghi, Ancient Messenians, 253 (with n. 12). 118. Beck, Polis, 79. 119. Polyb. 9.28.7, 18.14.7. Philip also distributed parts of this land to the Argives and the Messenians.

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during and after the rule of Alexander: for example, we know that, unlike other Arcadians, Megalopolis joined neither the Spartan revolt nor the Lamian war. Philip’s policy was a success, as the Arcadians continued to be divided still after Alexander’s death: unlike the rest of them, Megalopolis supported Cassander. Ultimately, therefore, by the end of Alexander’s reign “the Arcadians” could as well have meant a people, just as “the Boeotians” in the already mentioned passage of Hyperides. The evidence regarding the organization of the Greeks at the end of Philip’s reign appears to be limited and often imprecise, which hardly allows one to draw far-reaching conclusions. Not surprisingly, the basic texts on Greek “federal states” in the fourth century, Larsen’s States (1968) and Beck’s Polis und Koinon (1997), offer no analysis of Philip’s policy at all. The evidence still makes it possible to suggest, however, that even if Philip did not completely suppress all Greek alliances (and he did not always have to), those that survived after his victory at Chaeronea had no place in the political arrangement he established in Greece. Old Leagues, in reorganized form, could be used for facilitating military levies and meeting other obligations to Macedonia. However, Greek cities swore individually to the Macedonian Peace. The charter of the Corinthian League carried the provision that Greek cities were guaranteed the same political régimes they had had when they joined the Macedonian Peace, and the status of being “free and autonomous” cities. This clause seems to have been typical for treaties of alliance: we have already seen that in 432, the Aeginatans complained to Sparta that they were not allowed by Athens to be “autonomous in accordance with the treaty.” The author of the oration On the Treaty with Alexander accused Alexander of violating Greek freedom and autonomy (despite Alexander’s alleged commitment to the “common peace”) by overthrowing tyrannies in Antissa and Eressus, by helping to restore another one in Messana, and by changing the “constitution” of Pellene into what was, allegedly, a tyranny. Messana and

120. The revolt: Aeschin. 3.165 (see n. 92 above); Curt. 6.1.20, and Appendix 6. The Lamian war: Paus. 1.25.4–5. 121. Diod. 18.69.4–18.72.1. 122. Hyperid. 5.18 (see n. 80 above) with this explanation by Worthington, “Hyper. 5 Dem. 18,” 115–121; cf. Diod. 16.89.3: Philip “won the representatives [of the Greeks] over to war.” 123. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Staatsverträge 3, no. 403a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2).8–10; [Dem.] 17.8: ἐπιτάττει ἡ συνθήκη εὐθὺς ἐν ἀρχῃ ἐλευθέρους εἶναι καὶ αὐτονόμους τοὺς Ἕλληνας. 124. Thuc. 1.67.2 (see p. 17, n. 16). 125. [Dem.] 17.2, 4, 30. “Common agreements” (koinai homologiai) in [Dem.] 17.17, 29, have been interpreted as another designation for koine eirene by Martin, “Le traitement,” 28. 126. [Dem.] 17.7, 10; see [Dem.] 17.8, 14.

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Pellene were captured by the Athenians in 392, whereas Eressus is known to have participated in the Second Athenian Confederacy. Such evidence might explain the attention these cities received in a speech that was written in Athens. At any rate, the author thus implied that Alexander had broken the treaty more than once. The author, therefore, urged the Athenians not to tolerate such transgressions but to compel the king to respect the treaty, even if this required using force: the Greeks would know if force was needed in order to punish the original transgressor. Military alliances are known to have protected the freedom and autonomy of member states, as one can see in the treaty of alliance between Athens and several Peloponnesian states in 362–361 or between Athens and the Thessalians in 361– 360. If a military alliance was formed within a framework of Peace, this alliance could also claim to uphold the freedom and autonomy of all Greeks. For example, the charter of the Second Athenian Confederacy, while containing the “sanctions clause,” which protected its member states, also upheld the principles associated with the King’s Peace and, therefore, claimed to defend the freedom and autonomy of all Greeks as well. Then, a little later, the Athens Peace both accommodated the “sanctions clause,” which protected the status (i.e., freedom and autonomy) of member states of the Second Athenian Confederacy, and proclaimed the freedom and autonomy of all Greeks, because the Athens Peace formally adhered to the principles of the King’s Peace. In a similar fashion, the League of Corinth (as a military alliance) protected the freedom and autonomy of member states, whereas the Macedonian Peace upheld the freedom and autonomy of all Greeks. In practical terms, this meant that even if the Macedonian Peace, by itself, did not require its participants to use force in its defense, the Athenians could still act in accordance with the provisions of the charter of the League of Corinth. Because the same cities were participants in both the Macedonian Peace and the League of

127. Messana and Pellene: e.g., Diod. 14.94.4. Eressus: IG II 43 = R&O 22.117. 128. [Dem.] 17.16, 20, 22, 26. 129. [Dem.] 17.27–28, 30; see 17.18 and 19. 130. R&O 41 (= IG II 112 = GHI 144 = Syll. 181 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 290).24–26 and 29–34; R&O 44 (= IG II 116 = GHI 147 = Syll. 184 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 293).16–19 and 26–28. See also, e.g., Staatsverträge 3, nos. 476.74–81 (Athens and Sparta, 267–265 b.c.?) and 551 = Syll. 581 = IC III (Hierapytna), 3A (Rhodes and Hierapytna, c.201–200 b.c.?; with p. 434, n. 5), and TAM III.1, 2.8–18 (Termessus and Adabae, second century b.c.). 131. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).9–11 (377 b.c.). 132. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2 (see p. 50, n. 246). 133. Diod. 16.89.2–3; cf. Arr. 2.14.6, 7.9.5; Plut. Phoc. 16.4–5. Rhodes, “Bund,” 742; Badian, “Philippos II,” 802.

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Corinth, the author of the oration On the Treaty with Alexander found it possible to substitute one for the other: if the covenants are violated, the culprit becomes the enemy of “all participants in the peace.” What, then, does “freedom and autonomy” mean in On the Treaty with Alexander? Most likely, the author of this oration rephrased the clause that, in fact, was found at the very beginning of the surviving text of the charter of the Corinthian League, which served to protect the freedom and autonomy of Greek cities, as they had at the moment the treaty was signed. In another place, this speech comes very close to the original wording of this clause: “If any of the parties shall overthrow constitutions that were in the cities at the moment when they took the oaths to observe the peace, they shall be treated as enemies to all the parties to the peace.” A similar clause is thought to have been inserted at the beginning of the charter of the Hellenic League in 302, which has been viewed as a renewal of the League of Corinth. Because all Greek cities (with the exception of Sparta) appear to have shared in both the Macedonian Peace and Philip’s military alliance, protecting Greek freedom now meant protecting the “freedom” of alliance members, and vice versa: since any alliance was founded on the obligation of member states to “aid each other,” the member states were supposed to maintain the “freedom” and “peace” within the League of Corinth or, as it happened, in the Greek world as a whole. In practical terms, the collective responsibility enforced by Philip implied that leaving the Macedonian military alliance meant a breach of the Macedonian Peace (and, therefore, the violation of Greek freedom), which had to be punished by all other members of the alliance: in the end, Philip’s Greek allies protected his rule over themselves. The Macedonian king used the slogan of freedom as the basic principle of his new panhellenic order. Accordingly, Philip, and

134. [Dem.] 7.10. See also [Dem.] 7.16 and 19; [Dem.] 17.15–16: exiles from the states that adhere to the peace (ἐκ τῶν πόλεων τῶν κοινωνουσῶν τῆς εἰρήνης) should not bear arms against any of other member states (μηδεμίᾳ πόλει τῶν μετεχουσῶν τῆς εἰρήνης). Syll. 283 (= A. J. Heisserer, Alexander the Great and the Greeks: The Epigraphic Evidence [Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1980], 80), 11–13 (334–332 b.c.). 135. R&O 76a (= IG II 236a = GHI 177 = Syll. 260a = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 2).5–7: [οὔτ]ε ὅπλα. ἐπ.οί[σω ἐπὶ πημονῆι ἐπ᾿ οὐθένα τῶν] ἐ. μ. μ.ενόντων ἐν τ[οˆι ς ὅρκοις (?)], and 11–14: [οὐδὲ τ]ὴν βασιλείαν [τ]ὴν Φ[ιλίππου καὶ τῶν ἐκγόν]ων καταλύσω, οὐδὲ τὰ[ς πολιτείας τὰς οὔσας] παρ᾿ ἑκάστοις ὅτε τ[οὺς ὅρκους τοὺς περὶ τ]ῆς εἰρήνης ὤμνυον. As already Raue, “Untersuchungen,” 28–29, 32. 136. [Dem.] 17.10: ἐάν τινες τὰς πολιτείας τὰς παρ᾿ ἑκάστοις οὔσας, ὅτε τοὺς ὅρκους τοὺς περὶ τῆς εἰρήνης ὤμνυσαν, καταλύσωσι, πολεμίους εἶναι πᾶσι τοˆι ς τῆς εἰρήνης μετέχουσιν. 137. IG IV 1.68 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 446 = L. Moretti, Iscrizioni storiche ellenistiche, vol. 1 (Florence: Nuova Italia, 1967), no. 44, ll.144–145: καὶ οὐ[χ ὅπλα ἐποίσω ἐπὶ πημονῆι (?)—ἐπ᾿ οὐθένα τῶν ἐμ]μενόντων τα[ˆι ς συνθήκαις] and 146–147: [– οὐδὲ τὴν βα]σιλείαν τὴν Ἀν[τιγόνου καὶ Δημητρίου καὶ τῶν ἐκγόνων καταλύσω] (as restored by Schmitt). 138. For such bibliographic references, see p. 132, n. 114.

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Alexander after him, was the guarantor of freedom and autonomy for the Greeks by virtue of his being the general of the panhellenic military alliance.

t he s logans of f reedom and a utonomy under and after a lexander Once he succeeded Philip on the Macedonian throne, Alexander encountered several problems in Greece. None of them, except the revolt of Thebes which Alexander quickly put down, posed a danger to his rule over the Greeks. In one such case, as reported by Polyaenos, the “Thessalians” offered him resistance, but it is hard to say exactly what this word meant in the text. Polyaenos could well have been implying that only some of the Thessalians revolted. There was no unanimity among the Thessalians, and, as we have seen above, Aeschines ridiculed Demosthenes, when the latter claimed that he would instigate the uprising of the Thessalians, just as he (according to Demosthenes) had instigated the revolt of Agis III. The Thessalians quickly recognized Alexander’s leadership and agreed to pay to him the taxes they had been paying to his father. The ease with which Alexander kept Macedonian rule over Greece shows that Philip’s policy of transforming Greek alliances into conglomerates of smaller and weaker constituencies, which then needed his rule to protect their “freedom,” had proved to be very successful. The Peace established in Greece by Philip warranted Philip’s own military alliance and, therefore, the Macedonian Peace was of the same nature as the Athens Peace and, probably, the failed Peace of Pelopidas. The difference in Philip’s Peace was, first and foremost, quantitative: all Greeks, with the exception of Sparta, participated in it. However, quantitative changes tend to turn into qualitative ones: because those who shared in Philip’s Macedonian Peace were also members of his military alliance, and thus had to follow him on his campaign against Persia, Philip’s Peace (which upheld the “freedom” and “autonomy” of all Greeks) was both protected by and composed of all the Greeks who were also members of his League of Corinth. While the Macedonian Peace and the League of Corinth neither were nor could be the same, this arrangement allowed Philip to control the Greeks in two ways at once: as the protector of Peace (and, therefore, of Greek freedom) and as the leader (hegemon) of the panhellenic military alliance. Alexander inherited both positions. He also followed in his father’s footsteps, both in his relations with

139. Polyaen. 4.3.23; Sordi, Lega, 302–309; Westlake, Thessaly, 217–218. 140. Aeschin. 3.167 (see n. 70 above) and Diod. 17.4.1; see Appendix 5 ( 14 and 16, respectively).

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the Greeks and in the decorum of the arrangement. After ascending the throne, Alexander convened the Greek “representatives and council members” at Corinth, treating them individually, just as his father had done. Although all the Greeks were now members of the Corinthian League, which, as a military alliance, had the “sanctions clause” protecting the “freedom” of member states, the Macedonian Peace had to uphold the same slogan of Greek freedom as earlier treaties of Peace. Philip’s dissolution or transformation of military alliances in Greece fell within the old pattern of, and received justification from, these earlier treaties of Peace: each of them acknowledged only one military alliance, that is, the one controlled by the power that had established this Peace. The King’s Peace occupied a special position because it concerned all Greeks, without exception, and formally prohibited all military alliances, even though the Spartans managed to preserve their own military alliance. All other treaties of Peace appear to have had a much more limited force: the Peace of 375 de facto acknowledged the Second Athenian Confederacy (even though Athens and her allies swore individually to this Peace); the Sparta Peace of 371 was not endorsed by the Thebans, and, after the battle of Leuctra, the Athenians established their own Peace, which, in turn, was recognized neither by the Spartans nor by the Thebans. After Philip’s victory at Chaeronea, it looked as if the situation had returned to what it was in the mid380s: one Peace was acknowledged by all Greeks (Sparta had been on the political margins for several decades), and one political power was in charge of it. Not surprisingly, therefore, the Greeks contrasted the Macedonian Peace with the King’s Peace, which was the first and the most revered of all such arrangements (in spite of criticism by some, such as retrospective references by Isocrates). These propaganda wars echoed in later references to Philip as either the author or the “grave-digger” of Greek freedom. We see these wars as early as Alexander’s reign that produced several occasions showing the competition between the King’s Peace and the Macedonian Peace. In one such case, when Alexander was besieging Thebes under the pretext of furthering the Macedonian Peace in 335, the Thebans urged every Greek to join their city and the Great King in the fight against the “tyrant” and for the freedom of the Greeks. This was

141. Diod. 17.4.9; Iust. 11.2.5; Plut. Alex. 14.1. 142. For this criticism, see, e.g., Appendix 4. It would be interesting to trace the connection, if any, between Alexander’s announcement of the universal return of exiles in 324 (Diod. 17.109.1–2; Curt. 10.2.4–5) and a similar provision that might have been made a part of the King’s Peace; see Cawkwell, “Foundation,” 59. 143. Cf. Polyb. 9.33.6, 18.14.6, and Quintil. Decl. min. 339.10. For these different attitudes: Brunt, “Euboea,” 246; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 5. 144. Diod. 17.9.5. Welles, “Liberty,” 38.

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clearly a reference to the King’s Peace and its later reincarnations. Dinarchos noted that the Arcadians, who declined to join the Thebans, said that they had to serve Alexander with their bodies (which probably meant their participation in the League of Corinth), but in spirit they were with the Thebans and the freedom of the Greeks. The Theban slogan of freedom implied the right of the Thebans to control Boeotia. The only time we see a reference to the boeotarchs in the reign of Alexander occurs during the Theban revolt. At the same time, however, the Thebans claimed to stand by the King’s Peace, even though it did not recognize Greek military alliances. The Thebans either consciously misinterpreted the King’s Peace or chose to accept its later understanding, which made this Peace compatible with military alliances and associated it with the “territorial clause.” Alexander’s Macedonian Peace certainly acknowledged no other military alliance than the League of Corinth. Therefore, the destruction of Thebes by Alexander was not so much a result of his outrage, or his desire to give an example to all other Greeks, or his wish to placate his Boeotian allies (although such considerations were likely on his mind as well) but, first and foremost, a continuation of his father’s policy: the Macedonian Peace allowed only individual participation. The resurrection of the Boeotian Federation had posed a danger to the freedom of those Boeotian cities that had been restored under Macedonian rule, such as Plataea, Orchomenus, and Thespiae. They were now represented at the League’s council. The severity with which their citizens acted against the Theban uprising, particularly as noted by Diodoros, was due not only to their wish to settle old scores but also to the fear that the Thebans would restore their Federation. Alexander likely anticipated the decision of the League’s council regarding the fate of Thebes even before he put this matter on the council’s agenda. By destroying Thebes, he acted in the name of freedom for the Greeks, just as his father had done.

145. Dinarch. 1.20. 146. Arr. 1.7.11 (see n. 83 above). 147. See chapter 1 and Appendix 4. 148. See Gullath, Untersuchungen, 60–85. 149. Diod. 17.13.5; Arr. 1.8.8; Plut. Alex. 11.5; Iust. 11.3.8. For these cities, see nn. 81 and 85 above. 150. It is hard, therefore, to follow I. Worthington, “Alexander’s Destruction of Thebes,” in Crossroads of History: The Age of Alexander, ed. W. Heckel and L. A. Trittle (Claremont, Calif.: Regina Books, 2003), 65–86, and Worthington, Philip II, 80, who explained this revolt and the destruction of Thebes as stemming from this city’s traditional conflict with Macedonian kings and by the Theban desire to put another ruler (Amyntas, son of Perdiccas) on the Macedonian throne. There does not seem to be any evidence at all that would connect the Theban revolt with Amyntas’s possible claim to Macedonian rulership: the Thebans made a treaty with Philip (see p. 416, n. 33), thus acknowledging the legitimacy of his status, whereas Diodoros tells us that it was the Athenians who, “being hostile to Philip, were endeavoring to restore Argaeus to the throne (of Macedonia)”: Diod. 16.2.6.

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In another case showing the competition between the King’s Peace and the Macedonian Peace, we learn from Arrian how in 333–332 Pharnabazos accepted the surrender of the Mytileneans on the condition, among others, that they pull down the stelae that bore decrees allying them with Alexander and “become allies of Darius on the basis of the peace of Antalcidas with (the Persian) king [Darius].” At about the same time, Arrian continues, the Persians ordered the city of Tenedus to destroy the inscribed pillars of their agreement with Alexander and the Greeks, and “to observe the peace of Antalcidas [made with Darius].” These references to Darius as the person who set up the King’s Peace have been interpreted either as a scribal gloss or as Arrian’s own errors. The meaning was the same on both occasions, however: the Macedonian Peace was competing against the Peace that had been established and supported by the Great King. Each side claimed to protect the peace and freedom of the Greeks. We see one more such case later, when the Spartan revolt, led by Agis III in 331, was crushed by Antipater with the help of those members of the League of Corinth that remained loyal to Macedonia. The revolt of the Spartans, and their new alliance with Greek cities, undermined the Macedonian Peace that claimed to protect the Greek freedom. We learn that, at a much later date, Alexander allegedly wanted to replace Antipater with Craterus, so that the latter was to be in charge of Macedonia, Thrace, and Thessaly, and the “freedom of the Greeks.” These should have been the responsibilities of Antipater, after Alexander departed on his Persian campaign. In the words of Diodoros, the Spartans allegedly expected help from Darius III, whose money would have allowed the rebels to hire mercenaries. Diodoros does not say if the Spartans rebelled in support of the King’s Peace, as the Thebans had done earlier. However, provided the Spartans and their allies indeed planned to cooperate with Darius, the resurrection of the King’s Peace in one form or another would have been their obvious common ground against Alexander. As we have seen above, by protecting the “autonomy” of the Greeks, the King’s Peace, like the subsequent treaties of Peace (which started to include the slogan of freedom), only allowed individual participation.

151. Arr. 2.1.4: ξυμμάχους δὲ εἶναι Δαρείου κατὰ τὴν εἰρήνην τὴν ἐπ᾿ Ἀνταλκίδου γενομένην πρὸς βασιλέα [Δαρεˆι ον], 2.2.2: πρὸς Δαρεˆι ον δὲ ἄγειν τὴν εἰρήνην, ἣν ἐπὶ Ἀνταλκίδου [Δαρείῳ] συνέθεντο. 152. Cf. Brunt’s commentary ad Arr. 2.1.4 (Loeb) and A. B. Bosworth, A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 1:181–182, respectively. 153. The date of the revolt: E. Badian, “Agis III: Revisions and Reflections,” in Ventures into Greek History, ed. I. Worthington (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 272–277; E. I. McQueen, in Historia 27 (1978): 55, 58, dated the decisive battle of Megalopolis to August or September 331. The allies: Diod. 17.63.1. 154. Arr. 7.12.4. Cf. Diod. 17.17.5, 17.118.1, 18.12.1: Alexander left Antipater as “general of Europe.” 155. Diod. 17.62.1–3.

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This corresponds to what we know about the revolt of the Spartans: Diodoros indicates that the Spartan allies provided soldiers “according to the capacity of individual cities,” whereas Diodoros and Justin say that Agis and the Spartans led the Greek fight for freedom against the Macedonian rule. And Darius III was supposedly behind those Greeks who had opposed Alexander from the beginning of his reign: Demosthenes allegedly received money from Darius to finance antiMacedonian activities in Greece but withheld it after Alexander’s destruction of Thebes. If the rebellious Greeks (the Thebans, the islanders, and the Spartans with their allies) went against Alexander under the banner of “Greek freedom” and had plans to cooperate with Darius III, a different interpretation can be offered for the above-quoted words by Arrian about Mytilene and Tenedus having restored the peace of Antalcidas that they had established with “Darius.” Arrian’s words were likely to reflect the situation in which the Greeks proposed to resurrect the King’s Peace, or the Peace of Antalcidas, so that Darius III (who was helping them all with his money) would occupy the place of Artaxerxes II, as the champion of the King’s Peace. It appears, therefore, that the Greeks, Alexander, and Darius III were all using the slogan of freedom in this conflict. The above-mentioned evidence has allowed some to speak about a competition between Alexander and the Persian King for the position of “guarantor of peace.” If this interpretation is correct, the origin of the competition between the Macedonian and Persian monarchs should really be traced to the foundation of the Macedonian Peace by Philip II in 338–337. From this point of view, the Persian war of the Macedonian king was not so much to destroy Persia as such but to strengthen his control over the Greeks. Whereas the Macedonian campaign against Persia has been explained traditionally on the premise of either a panhellenic activity or a Macedonian desire for profit, what was equally, if not more,

156. Diod. 17.62.7: κατὰ δύναμιν τῶν πόλεων, and 17.63.2. Freedom: Diod. 17.62.1–17.63.3, incl. 17.62.1: the Greeks “decided that they should strike for their freedom while the Persian course was still alive”; Iust. 12.1.6–8. 157. Hyperid. 5.17; Dinarch. 1.10, 18–22; Aeschin. 3.238–240. Demosthenes’s diplomacy: Appendix 5. 158. E.g., Diod. 17.62.6–8. 159. Dobesch, “Alexander,” 97; Heisserer, Alexander, 132–133. 160. Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 117, and Buckler, Greece, 511–512, arguing that the “novelty” of Philip’s Peace “lay in its exclusion of the King from it.” But cf. Berve, review of the books by Taeger and Schwahn, 307: the Athens Peace of 371 was “a substitution of the King’s Peace with a self-based Greek regulation.” 161. For an overview: J. Seibert, “‘Panhellenischer’ Kreuzzug, National-Krieg, Rachefeldzug oder makedonischer Eroberungs-Krieg? Überlegungen zu den Ursachen des Krieges gegen Persien,” in Alexander der Grosse: Eine Welteroberung und ihr Hintergrund, ed. Wolfgang Will (Bonn: Habelt, 1998): 6–58.

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significant was that a victory over Persia would finally have sealed Macedonian rule over Greece. This also means that the controversy about whether Philip developed the idea of a war against Persia independently or borrowed it from Isocrates should be resolved in favor of the former opinion. Only one Peace was possible at any time, and so long as the Persian monarch continued to rule, he could always find eager supporters for his new Peace from among the Greeks. However, the Macedonian Peace was of a different nature: those who shared in the Macedonian Peace were also members of the League of Corinth. For this very reason, they appear to have had certain obligations to the king of Macedonia, as Alexander’s letter to Chios in 332 demonstrates. He followed in Philip’s footsteps in this as well: those who left the alliance threatened the Peace and had to be punished. This stance fully revealed itself when Alexander protected the “freedom” of the Boeotians by destroying Thebes and when, as he was leaving for Asia, he appointed Antipater as regent, entrusting him with the protection of the “freedom of the Greeks.” It was in the name of Greek freedom that Antipater put down the revolt of the Spartans, who were besieging Megalopolis in an attempt to add that city to their alliance. The status and responsibilities of Antipater, including his “protection” of “Greek freedom,” would later be inherited by Polyperchon and then by Antigonos. Therefore, the Greeks’ situation under Alexander remained the same as it had been under Philip. The Spartans, similarly, continued to stay out of the League of Corinth, just as they had done during Philip’s reign: if they swore to the Macedonian Peace, they would officially denounce their right to Messenia, as well as Megalopolis and other constituencies of their former League. It seems unlikely, therefore, that the Spartans joined the League of Corinth after Agis’s revolt was put down by Antipater.

162. As Cawkwell, Philip, 111–112, who, however, put an emphasis on the “concord” in Greece as a necessary prerequisite for Philip’s war against Persia. On the League of Corinth as Philip’s own design, see also n. 258 below. 163. R&O 84.A (= GHI 192 = Syll. 283 = Heisserer, Alexander, 80 = SEG 26, 1019 = 30, 1071).10–13: “of those who betrayed the city to the barbarians, as many as have escaped, these are to be exiled from all the cities that share in the peace (τῶν πόλεων τῶν τῆς εἰρήνης κοινωνουσῶν) and liable to arrest according to the decree of the Greeks” (trans. Heisserer) and interpretations: S. Dmitriev, “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” Klio 86 (2004): 362–366. 164. Arr. 7.12.4 (see n. 154 above). 165. Aeschin. 3.165 (see n. 92 above); Diod. 17.73.5. 166. See next chapter. Cf. Hornblower, Greek World, 289, on “the description of Antipater’s job” as “the merest euphemism, an early instance of the abuse of the term ‘freedom of the Greeks.’” Dixon, “Corinth, Greek Freedom,” 154, recently claimed that in the absence of Alexander, Antipater “also assumed the responsibilities of the League of Corinth’s hegemon.” 167. Cf. Plut. Inst.Lacon. 42, p. 240ab. 168. E.g., W. W. Tarn, in CAH 6 (1927): 445, and E. I. McQueen, in Historia 27 (1978): 57–58.

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Because every Greek city now shared in the Macedonian Peace and, in the absence of old military alliances, was treated individually by the king of Macedonia, who was the sole guarantor of this Peace, the importance of the slogan of freedom in panhellenic politics was diminishing. This slogan was certainly used in the war against Persia. However, the Greeks had already acknowledged the right of Persian Kings to the Greek cities of Asia Minor, which should have limited the use of the slogan of freedom in the eastern campaign of Alexander. The latter campaign concerns, among other things, two problems closely connected with the present investigation. One of them is the question of whether the cities of Asia Minor belonged to the League of Corinth. This problem is still being debated by those who have doubts about the participation of these cities in the League and those who asserted this participation, for the reason that there does not appear to be any decisive evidence for either opinion. What seems to be clear is that the Greek cities recovered by Alexander from Persian control were expected to partake in the Macedonian Peace, as did the people of Mytilene and Tenedus, in particular, according to the information given by Arrian and examined above. Because, as we have seen above, participants in the Macedonian Peace were also members of the Macedonian alliance, it is likely that, once they were admitted into the Macedonian Peace, the Greek cities of Asia Minor also became members of the League of Corinth. The other problem, which has been much better documented and which appears, in fact, to be more relevant to our examination, is that during the reign of Alexander, the slogan of freedom started to be used for defining the status of individual Greek cities. Because of Alexander’s having wrested Greek cities from Persian control, his reign offers us an opportunity to examine the use of the slogan of freedom with respect to individual cities. The problems regarding the status of Greek cities and the principles of their interrelationship with

169. E.g., Diod. 16.91.1; E. Badian, “Alexander the Great and the Greeks of Asia,” in Ancient Society and Institutions: Studies Presented to V. Ehrenberg on his 75th Birthday, ed. E. Badian (Oxford: Blackwell, 1966), 37; A. B. Bosworth, Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 250; M. Bertoli, in Gli stati territoriali nel mondo antico, ed. C. Bearzot et al. (Milan: V&P Università, 2003), 94. 170. A. J. Heisserer, in Historia 22 (1973): 193–196; R. Stoneman, Alexander the Great (London: Routledge, 1997), 28; cf. Hornblower, Greek World, 292 (see n. 189 below). 171. E. Bickerman, “Alexandre le Grand et les villes d’Asie,” RÉG 47 (1934): 348–349; F. Schachermeyr, Alexander der Grosse: Das Problem seiner Persönlichkeit und seines Wirkens (Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1973), 177; J. Seibert, Alexander der Grosse (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1990), 86–90; Bosworth, Conquest, 255–258; Bosworth, “Alexander,” 869–870. 172. Arr. 2.1.4 and 2.2.2 (see n. 151 above).

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Alexander have been debated for a long time. The majority opinion has been that Alexander treated Greek cities as he pleased. This idea, however, contradicts the available evidence. First, the Greek cities’ status differed among each other. Even after Alexander passed away, some Greek cities attached importance to the status they had held during his rule, as inscriptions from Priene and Erythrae demonstrate. Second, Alexander is said to have attracted Greek cities by his kind treatment and then to have given them “autonomy” and freedom from tribute, which also shows that the Greeks found it possible to combine the status of an autonomous city with the obligation of this city to pay tribute. Finally, the position of Greek cities worsened considerably after the death of Alexander: Polyperchon and other Macedonian generals, who issued the declaration of Greek freedom in 319, appealed to Greek cities by promising to restore the same mode of government as they had under Philip and Alexander and to return to the “original stance” (τὴν ἐξ ἀρχῆς προαίρεσιν) of Alexander. It is not clear if the word proairesis was used diachronically by Diodoros, who lived when the favorable stance (hairesis or proairesis) of the ruler was expected to be reciprocated by the political loyalty (eunoia) of cities. This word is not encountered in the surviving correspondence of Alexander with Greek cities. But the idea of quid pro quo was certainly there in the time of Alexander and later became underlined by Polyperchon. Therefore, Greek cities had a better position under Alexander than they had in the time immediately following his death, which undermines the idea that they all had the status of subject cities during his reign. Minor details speak to the same effect. For example, how could Ephesus decline Alexander’s request to dedicate the

173. The brief review by Badian, “Alexander,” 37–38, is still useful. See also Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 11–13; Bosworth, Conquest, 44–55; Bosworth, “Alexander,” 797–804; Nawotka, “Freedom,” 15–17. 174. E.g., Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 525; Badian, “Alexander,” 49–50, 59, 62 n. 13, with reference to the membership of the Greek cities of Asia Minor in the League of Corinth. 175. I.Priene 1 (letter of Alexander regulating affairs in Priene and Naulochon, “nach Mai 334 v.Chr.”) = R&O 86.B (334?) = GHI 185 (334) = OGI 1 (334) = SEG 30, 1358 (334 b.c.?) = Heisserer, Alexander, 145– 168 (“sometime after 334,” preferably 330–320); see also LW 188. I.Priene 2 (Priene honors Antigonos, 334 b.c.) = Syll. 278 (334) = Heisserer, Alexander, 162–164 (“330 or shortly afterward”). Reference to the kyrios syllogos (ll.3–4) allows us to date I.Priene 2 to the period from about 334 until the late fourth century: S. Dmitriev, City Government in Hellenistic and Roman Asia Minor (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 79–82, and since this inscription does not refer to Antigonos as “king,” its terminus ante quem can be raised to 306. 176. OGI 223 = I.Erythrai 31 = C. B. Welles, Royal Correspondence in the Hellenistic Period: A Study of Greek Epigraphy (New Haven, Conn., and Prague: Kondakov Institute, 1934), no. 15.22–23 (Antiochos II to Erythrae, 261–246 b.c.). 177. Diod. 17.24.1; Arr. 1.17.1–2. 178. Diod. 18.56.3. For the change of the overall political situation after the death of Alexander, see next chapter.

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temple of Artemis if this was a subject city? At the same time, Priene, which was “free” and “autonomous” under Alexander, allowed him, obviously in response to his request, to dedicate the temple of Athena Polias. This information subverts the idea that Alexander indiscriminately treated all Greek cities as subject communities. Such evidence prompts us to reexamine Alexander’s relations with Greek cities, by analyzing their status in his reign and reevaluating the evidence about how he treated them. The subject status of the Greek cities of Asia Minor has been seen in Alexander’s having changed their status, having imposed (or kept) tributes on them (often together with other contributions in money and kind), and having established garrisons within their walls. Accordingly, the three aspects used to define the status of Greek cities, which have been the usual subjects of these examinations and debates, are as follows: (i) the obligation of the city to pay tribute vs. the right not to pay it (aphorologesia); (ii) the obligation of the city to accept garrison vs.its right to be free from garrison (aphrouria); and (iii) the obligation of the city to use laws that have been enforced on the city vs. the city’s legal independence, that is, its right to use local laws (autonomia), even though the extent to which cities could use local laws probably varied from city to city. We have different sources regarding the status of Greek cities in the reign of Alexander. All such sources can be roughly divided into two groups: (i) contemporary or near-contemporary epigraphic evidence (Alexander’s letters and “decrees” to Greek cities, and responses of these cities); and (ii) literary texts, including the five main surviving continuous ancient expositions about Alexander’s reign and exploits, of which the earliest (that of Diodoros Siculus) dates to only the first century b.c. There is a gap, therefore, of about two hundred years between the two different groups of sources that we have. Yet both epigraphic and literary texts use the nouns “freedom” and “autonomy,” and their cognates, side by side, which implies that a certain difference in the meanings of the two words survived through these centuries.

179. Strabo 14.1.22, p. C 641. 180. I.Priene 2 = Syll. 278 = Heisserer, Alexander, 162–164 (see n. 175 above). Alexander’s dedication of the temple of Athena Polias at Priene: LW 187 = I.Priene 156 (“not long after the battle of the Granicus”) = GHI 184 (334) = Syll. 277 (334) = SEG 30, 1362 (334 b.c.?) = Heisserer, Alexander, 143–145 (“perhaps in late 331”). 181. E.g., Bickerman, “Alexandre,” 369–371; Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 525; Badian, “Alexander,” 38–39; D. Musti, in CAH 7.1 (1984): 206–207. 182. E.g., Bickerman, “Alexandre,” 369. Pace Nawotka, “Freedom,” 28–30. 183. Cf. Mastrocinque, “L’eleutheria,” 6, with reference to Diod. 20.107.2.

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As for the first two main aspects of the status of Greek cities, that is, imposing tributes (often alongside various other obligations) and introducing garrisons, Alexander’s approach appears to have been differential. At times he abolished the tribute the city had paid to the Persians: some he took for himself (in some cases even raising the amount of the tribute), as happened at Sardis, Soli, and Aspendus, and some he channeled in a different direction, as with Ephesus (the tribute Ephesus had paid to the Persian King was redirected to the temple of Artemis) and in the case of Alexander’s gift to Phocion. The status of a city as “free” or “autonomous” was irrelevant to the city’s obligation to pay tribute in the reign of Alexander; the situation in the fourth century was, thus, the same as in the fifth century. This idea has been recently challenged by Nawotka, who saw freedom from tribute as part of the free status of Greek cities in Asia Minor under Alexander. He qualified their payments as syntaxis, thus enlisting them all in the League of Corinth, because syntaxis has generally been understood as a regular contribution by an allied state, even though an argument has been made that a payment of a syntaxis does not by itself allow one to regard such cities as members of the League of Corinth. Nawotka then examined only two cases when tribute was paid: Ephesus and Aspendus. The first he rejected on the grounds that “in 334 and in fact even later, until the capture of the imperial treasuries of Persia, Alexander was in no position to incur expenses of rebuilding the Artemisium and also nobody would have referred to him as a god as early in 334.” However, Alexander dedicated the temple of Athena Polias at Priene in 334, which, as Nawotka himself postulated, “must have been accompanied by hefty subsidies toward building expenses.” It would have been even more fitting for Alexander to have requested the Artemisium be dedicated by himself, as it allegedly burned down the night he was born, and then to have claimed divinity in this way as well. Hence, the response

184. E.g., Diod. 17.24.1; Arr. 1.17.1–2. 185. Ephesus: Arr. 1.17.10. Alexander’s gift to Phocion: Appendix 7. 186. The fifth century: e.g., Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 38–40 (on Aegina’s membership in the Delian League). The reign of Alexander: e.g., OGI 223 = I.Erythrai 31 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 15 (letter of Antiochos II to Erythrae, 261–246 b.c.). 187. Nawotka, “Freedom,” 15–41. For the syntaxis: Nawotka, “Freedom,” 19, 26–29. 188. Badian, “Alexander,” 51–52, 55; G. Wirth, in Chiron 2 (1972): 94–95; Heisserer, Alexander, xxv–xxvi; Orth, Machtanspruch, 90; S. M. Sherwin-White, “Ancient Archives: The Edict of Alexander to Priene, a Reappraisal,” JHS 105 (1985): 84–86; Brun, Impérialisme, 16, 139, 322; Rhodes, History, 268. 189. Hornblower, Greek World, 292. 190. Nawotka, “Freedom,” 29. 191. Nawotka, “Freedom,” 31. For this dedication, see n. 180 above.

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of the Ephesians that it was “inappropriate for a god to dedicate offerings to god.” Aspendus, according to Nawotka, “agreed to submit a contribution, and Arrian’s wording suggests a negotiated covenant and not a unilateral decision imposed by Alexander.” This is hardly relevant to the question of tributes. After Aspendus refused but then, again, accepted the conditions imposed by Alexander (which undermines Nawotka’s idea of a “negotiated covenant”), exactions were increased, including a one-time contribution and tribute (see below). Nawotka then concluded that “the example of Aspendus is no gauge of Alexander’s policy since this city was punished after reneging on the previous agreement and not burdened with a heavy tribute as a matter of Alexander’s policy.” According to Arrian, however, it was during the first arrangement that Alexander “ordered” (κελεύει, which, again, does not look like a “negotiated covenant”) that the Aspendians give both fifty talents to his army, as pay, and the horses they had bred as tribute to the King. There was a difference, therefore, between a one-time contribution and a tribute, which we also see in the new arrangement between Alexander and that city. Nawotka’s second argument was that Aspendus “is in Pamphylia to which no attested declaration of autonomia and freedom from the tribute applies, hence it should not be expected to be treated in the same way as Ionia, Aeolia or Caria.” Although these two arguments seem mutually exclusive and imply a certain rigid policy on the part of Alexander, the approach of distinguishing between Greek and non-Greek cities has an appeal. Indeed, we have no definite evidence for Greek cities in Asia Minor having paid regular tribute to Alexander: his gift to Phocion might provide such evidence, but the lists of cities offered by Alexander to Phocion differ (see Appendix 7). The tribute of Ephesus was channeled to the sanctuary that belonged to the city, whereas Strabo says that Ilium was given “freedom” and “freedom from tribute”; his evidence is unique, and its interpretation depends, to a large extent, on whether Ilium was counted as a city before the arrival of Alexander, as we shall see below. What matters for the current examination is that Alexander and his contemporaries knew the difference between “freedom” and “freedom from tribute.”

192. The Artemisium: Plut. Alex. 3.5–7. The response: Strabo 14.1.22, p. C 641. 193. Nawotka, “Freedom,” 30, with reference to Arr. 1.26.3, and W. W. Tarn, Alexander the Great (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1948), 2:212. 194. Arr. 1.26.3. 195. Nawotka, “Freedom,” 30. 196. For this view, see also Hornblower, Greek World, 292, relying on the coinage from Aspendus. Cf. Plut. Alex. 34.1.

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The relevant evidence about tribute from the cities of Asia Minor can be summed up here as follows. According to Strabo, Alexander made Ilium “free” and “free from tribute.” Priene had “autonomy” and “freedom,” as well as freedom from the syntaxis. Erythrae later claimed to have been both “autonomous” and free from tribute under Alexander and Antigonos. Cities of Caria enjoyed “autonomy” and freedom from tribute. The information that we have about Alexander’s imposing, or keeping the exaction of, a tribute is limited to those cities that either were hardly Greek at that time or had been paying tribute to the Persians before the coming of Alexander. There is no evidence that Alexander imposed tribute on a Greek city. This was probably his conscious policy, which confirms the idea of Nawotka. It could well be, however, that all cities paid tribute to the Persians before his coming, and he originally freed only some of them from tribute. The Lydian Sardis, which was the former most important Persian outpost on the western coast of Asia Minor and not exactly a Greek settlement at that time, enjoyed “autonomy” and “freedom” but had to pay tribute. Aspendus, a Pamphylian city, surrendered to Alexander on condition that it was not to be garrisoned, while the Aspendians provided fifty talents as pay for Alexander’s army (most likely as a one-time contribution) “with the horses they bred as tribute to the King of Persia.” After briefly refusing to carry out the terms of this agreement but then becoming apprehensive of the might of the approaching army, the Aspendians surrendered anew. The terms now were different: they had to pay a double payment and a tribute, to give hostages, and to submit to the control of Alexander’s satrap, which turned Aspendus into a subject city. It follows, therefore, that Aspendus would pay tribute irrespective of whether it was “free” or “subject.” Soli, the city in Cilicia, also had to pay to Alexander, whereas we do not know whether this city was “free” and “autonomous” or not.

197. Strabo 13.1.26, p. C 593: ἐλευθέραν τε κρˆι ναι καὶ ἄφορον. Ilium could have paid tribute as a “village” before Alexander turned it into a city; ibid. See also F. Verkinderen, “The Honorary Decree for Malousios of Gargara and the κοινόν of Athena Ilias,” Tyche 2 (1987): 258–259, who connected Alexander’s promotion of Ilium to the status of a city with his grant of freedom and autonomy to Ilium. 198. I.Priene 1.3–4, 13–15, and 2.3–4. 199. OGI 223 (= I.Erythrai 31 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 15).22–23 (by Antiochos II to Erythrae, 261–246 b.c.). Cf., however, Verkinderen, “Decree for Malousios,” 265: “it is impossible to infer whether both Alexander and Antigonos accorded autonomy and exemption from tribute together, or the one some two decades after the other.” 200. Diod. 17.24.1. 201. Arr. 1.17.4. All the tributes collected from western Asia Minor were gathered in Sardis: Arr. 1.17.7, 3.6.4. 202. Arr. 1.26.2–3 and 1.27.2–4. See Badian, “Alexander,” 49; Bosworth, Conquest, 254–255. 203. Curt. 3.7.2.

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The difference between free and subject cities evidently lay in the way in which the tribute was collected. In the absence of any firm evidence to the contrary, we are left to assume that free cities collected tribute and taxes with the help of city officials, who then gave the money over to royal representatives. It is also clear that in imposing, or maintaining, tributes (often together with other contributions) on the Greek cities of Asia Minor, Alexander was guided by several considerations, such as (i) whether the tribute had been paid under the Persians; (ii) whether the stance of the city was favorable to the Macedonians; and, most important, (iii) whether the military situation required any extraction of money or other resources from the city. Not surprisingly, payments by Greek cities are thought to have ceased by 330, even though nothing indicates that these cities had changed their status by that time. It seems, therefore, that paying tributes was based on necessity rather than a city’s status, whereas the political situation in Anatolia had stabilized by 330, with Alexander receiving such new sources of income as Persian treasuries and Egyptian wealth. One can hardly doubt that Greek cities contributed money and received garrisons “as long as Alexander thought it necessary.” However, this was not a caprice of a ruler but a political and military necessity. Whether the liberation of a city by Alexander was “genuine” or “illusory” remains a largely rhetorical question. What is clear, however, is that the evidence from the reign of Alexander and the time immediately following his death allows us to make at least two observations: the status of Greek cities varied in the reign of Alexander, and the obligation of a city to pay tribute and accept a garrison had nothing to do with this city’s status as “autonomous” and “free.” The surviving information about garrisons in the cities of Asia Minor points in the same direction. Although Philoxenos, Alexander’s satrap in western Asia Minor, had to garrison Ephesus because of the city’s resistance to his arrest of the three tyrannocides, nothing indicates that Ephesus was deprived of its “autonomy” (see also below). “Free” and “autonomous” Priene probably had to accept a garrison, even if only for a short time. The most impregnable fortress in the region, but hardly a Greek city at that time, Sardis was the optimal spot for governing the entire coast: it was the place for political prisoners in the time of Alexander and for

204. The attitude toward villages was the same; see I.Priene 1 (= R&O 86.B = GHI 185).7–8 and 11–13 (334 b.c.). 205. Badian, “Alexander,” 49, 60. See Arr. 1.18.2. 206. Badian, “Alexander,” 49; cf. Bikerman, Institutions, 148. 207. Polyaen. 6.49. Pace Bosworth, “Alexander,” 870–871. 208. I.Priene 1.13–17.

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royal archives containing financial reports even to the reign of Antiochos II. Therefore, Sardis could not remain ungarrisoned, even though this city was “free” and “autonomous.” The city of Soli, of whose status we know nothing, had to accept Alexander’s garrison into its citadel. Having surrendered for the second time, Aspendus most likely had to receive a garrison, even though Arrian says nothing about this. Evidence from later times also shows that, similar to the obligation of a city to pay tribute (with or without other contributions), a city’s obligation to accept a garrison was irrelevant to its status as a “free” and “autonomous” city. Later in the fourth century, Demetrios acknowledged Rhodes as “autonomous,” ungarrisoned, and in control of her revenues. He also ordered Athens to be set “free,” the garrison expelled, and “autonomy” restored. Each attribute of the city’s status required, and received, a separate treatment from Demetrios. Ptolemy swore to preserve the status of Iasus as “autonomous,” “free,” and free from garrison and tribute. Even after he garrisoned Iasus, that city remained “autonomous” and “free.” The humiliating obligation of the city to pay tribute and accept garrison would, certainly, have influenced its position and relationship with other Greek cities. However, neither the imposition of a tribute nor the installation of a garrison meant, by itself, any interference in a city’s organization and administration. Surviving evidence regarding the remaining aspect of the status of Greek cities of Asia Minor during and after the reign of Alexander, their “autonomy”—the right of the city to use its own laws—can be divided into several groups. One of them concerns legal trials. Philoxenos, the Macedonian satrap in western Asia Minor, is known to have arrested a number of people in various cities of Asia Minor, including three brothers who had murdered a local “tyrant” named Hegesias in Ephesus and, as we know from Pausanias, the fugitive treasurer of Harpalos in Rhodes. The story of Pausanias has been doubted for the reason that Philoxenos was unlikely to operate on Rhodes and go there in person. But Pausanias

209. Plut. Phoc. 16–17; I.Didyma 492 (253 b.c.). 210. Arr. 1.17.4 and 7. 211. Curt. 3.7.2. 212. Arr. 1.26.2–3 and 27.2–4. See Badian, “Alexander,” 49; Bosworth, Conquest, 254–255. 213. Diod. 20.99.3 (304); Plut. Dem. 8.5. 214. Cf. I.Iasos 2.30–31, 50–51, 54–55 (undated); cf. I.Iasos 3.11–15, 21–25; see R. S. Bagnall, The Administration of the Ptolemaic Possessions outside Egypt (Leiden: Brill, 1976), 89–91, with H. Hauben, in EA 10 (1987): 4. Cf. I.Iasos 3.4–5 and, for later times, I.Iasos 4.49, 51 (c.195–190 b.c.). 215. Polyaen. 6.49. His arrest of the treasurer of Harpalos: Paus. 2.33.4–5. 216. I. Worthington, in Hermes 113 (1985): 123–125; I. Worthington, A Historical Commentary on Dinarchus: Rhetoric and Conspiracy in Later Fourth-Century Athens (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992), 75–76.

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says only that Philoxenos “seized” the treasurer of Harpalos and interrogated him about who had accepted money from Harpalos, and then sent a letter to Athens. Philoxenos did not have to come to Rhodes himself; if he did, he could as well have arrived in Athens to demand the surrender of Harpalos in person. However, Pausanias and Hyperides say only that Philoxenos sent his envoys to Athens. Philoxenos probably operated not within specific territorial limits but according to specific tasks, which allowed him to overstep regional borders. In the case of Harpalos, Philoxenos acted on his own initiative, which made it possible for Demosthenes to refuse both his request and that of Antipater. The three brothers, and probably the treasurer (though he was a slave and his treatment therefore could be different), were jailed at Sardis. Following Alexander’s death, Perdiccas sent Diodoros (who was the only tyrannicide remaining in captivity after his brothers had escaped) to be tried “by laws” in Ephesus. This act did not reflect the tacit acknowledgment that Philoxenos had overstepped his authority, but simply the absence of any need on the part of the royal administration to push such cases further. Incidents of high treason had been decided by Alexander himself, as also happened to the leaders of insurgent Spartiates. After Alexander passed away, the murder of Hegesias changed from an act of high treason into a purely local affair. A somewhat similar situation took place in 302, when a hundred Rhodian hostages held by Demetrios in Ephesus were sent back home after Lysimachos’s general Prepelaüs put an end to Demetrios’s domination over that city. Therefore, Diodoros was to be judged at Ephesus “by laws,” which certainly referred to local laws. The use of local laws seemingly helped Diodoros’s brothers to save him in the end. We also hear about four more prisoners (probably arrested on Philoxenos’s orders) who are known to have been kept in the citadel of Sardis as well and were also accused of high treason. Their fate was, therefore, to be decided by Alexander, but he freed all four after a personal intercession by Phocion. This information proves neither the theories about Alexander’s interference in internal affairs of Greek cities nor the absence of these cities’ “autonomy.”

217. Hyperid. 5.8; [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846B; Bosworth, Conquest, 217. See Appendix 6. 218. Polyaen. 6.49. 219. As Bosworth, Conquest, 257; cf. Nawotka, “Freedom,” 32, who considered this episode as one of “only two Macedonian interventions in internal affairs of a polis of Asia Minor.” The other one, according to him, was Alexander’s order to stop the carnage of oligarchs at Ephesus in 334. 220. Hammond, in HM, 3:78. 221. Diod. 20.107.4. For this Prepelaüs: I.Ephesos 1449 (c.302–301 b.c.), and L. Robert, Hellenica: Recueil d’épigraphie, de numismatique et d’antiquités grecques (Limoges: Bontemps, 1946), 3:79–85. 222. Plut. Phoc. 18.4–5; Ael. VH 1.25. See Badian, “Alexander,” 56.

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Further evidence comprises a variety of references, both contemporary and later, to the status of different Greek cities during the reign of Alexander. Decrees of Priene label this city “autonomous” from 334 up until at least 330. Only during the reign of Lysimachos, in what was likely an aftermath of Hiero’s tyranny, did Priene publish the “edict” of Alexander granting “freedom” and “autonomy” to that city. An inscription from Colophon spoke of the “freedom” that city enjoyed under both Alexander and Antigonos. This case should be put together not with that of Priene, where Antigonos acted on behalf of Alexander, but with that of Erythrae, which also claimed to have been “autonomous” and “free from tribute” during the reigns of Alexander and Antigonos. There is no reason to reject such evidence. The memory of Alexander’s reign was still fresh in the decades following his death, and Greek cities could hardly have deceived anybody with false statements. Likewise, the appeal to Greek cities by Polyperchon, who promised them a return to Alexander’s “original stance,” shows that the position of Greek cities had been better under Alexander than in the time immediately following his death. Finally, the right to use their own laws allowed Greek cities to offer grants of politeia (which is usually translated as “citizenship”), in the form of isopoliteia or sympoliteia, and to participate in international arbitration. The grants of politeia by Priene to Antigonos, the son of Philip; to Philaios, the son of Philistides, from Athens, and to judges from Phocaea show that Priene had “autonomy” in the reign of Alexander. Late in Alexander’s reign, or shortly after his death, Miletus concluded treaties of various forms, including isopoliteia, with several cities. At about the same time, several people, including Nikanor, the adopted

223. I.Priene 2 = Syll. 278 = Heisserer, Alexander, 162–164 (see n. 175 above). See I.Priene 1–6 in general. 224. I.Priene 37.80–85; cf. I.Priene 1 and 11. See Paus. 7.2.10 and Sherwin-White, “Archives,” 86–87. 225. I.Priene 37.80–85; cf. I.Priene 1. 226. B. D. Meritt, “Inscriptions of Colophon,” AJP 56 (1935): 361, col. I (= Maier, Mauerbauinschriften, 1:224–227, no. 69 = SEG 19, 698), ll.5–6, dated to 334 b.c. by Meritt and Verkinderen, “Decree for Malousios,” 264–265, and to 311–306 by L. Robert, OMS 2:1239–1240, followed by Maier, p. 227. 227. I.Priene 2 = Syll. 278 = Heisserer, Alexander, 162–164 (see n. 175 above). This opinion: e.g., F. Hiller von Gaertringen, Inschriften von Priene (Berlin: Reimer, 1906), xi; Badian, “Alexander,” 64 n. 39. Erythrae: OGI 223 (= I.Erythrai 31 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 15).22–23 (letter of Antiochos II to Erythrae, 261–246 b.c.). 228. Diod. 18.56.3 (see n. 178 above). Nor does Alexander’s Exiles Decree (324) demonstrate a neglect of, or a departure from, his earlier declared support for Greek freedom and autonomy; for such views, see, e.g., Dixon, “Corinth, Greek Freedom,” 154–155 (with notes), who, unfortunately, made no use of my “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” 348–381, which argues that this Decree violated neither the laws of the cities nor the covenants of the Corinthian League. 229. I.Priene 2 = Syll. 278 = Heisserer, Alexander, 162–164 (see n. 175 above), 6 (330–329 b.c.), 8 (328–327 b.c.). 230. Milet I 3, 135 (see VI 1, p. 169): eisaphixis with Sardis (334–323 b.c.); 136 (= Syll. 286): isopoliteia with Olbia (c.325–311 b.c.); 137 (see VI 1, p. 171): friendship with Cyzicus (334–323 b.c.); 142: isopoliteia with Phygela (334–317 b.c.).

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son of the philosopher Aristotle, received the politeia of Ephesus. Chios gave its politeia to the judges from Naxos and Andros. Samos acted in a similar fashion. Colophon and Aspendus offered grants of politeia as well. Further evidence includes the mediation of Cnidus and the Aetolians during the siege of Rhodes by Demetrios, and the use of the constitution of Cos in what was planned as the synoikismos of Teos and Lebedus. Such instances show, among other things, that the “autonomy” of Greek cities remained compatible with garrisoning and the imposition of tributes, even in the time following Alexander’s death. Communities that were controlled by royal representatives also offered their politeiai. In one such case, when Amyzon granted politeia to Bagadates and his son Ariarames, this grant was initiated by the royal satrap Asandros, who most likely made this proposal directly to the assembly of Amyzon. In a similar case, politeia was offered by the Koaranzes, who were then under the control of the same satrap Asandros. However, neither Amyzon nor the Koaranzes could be counted as cities. When such situations occurred in free cities, royal representatives had to go through administrative procedures established by those cities. Demodamas, a Seleucid general, brought forward proposals for decrees, in honor of members of the royal family, before the assembly in Miletus either as one of the synedroi—that is, one who had been elected by the assembly and was directly responsible to it—or by submitting his request to the council. In a similar fashion, the ambassadors of Ptolemy II were introduced to the Milesian assembly by the

231. I.Ephesos 1420 (c.350–321 b.c.), 1435 (c.322 b.c.), 1436 (c.322–313 b.c.), 1437 (322–321 b.c.), 1443 (c.307–306 b.c.), 1453 (300 b.c.), 1459 (late fourth century b.c.), 2004 (late fourth–early third century), 2011 (c.318 b.c.); SEG 39, 1151–1171 (c.326–275 b.c.). 232. N. M. Contoléon, in RPh 23 (1949): 10, no. 2.26–28 (c.320 b.c.). 233. See the famous honorific decree by Samos for Gorgos and Minnion: Syll. 312 (322 b.c.) = Heisserer, Alexander, 182–192 (322) = SEG 30, 1076 (322) = K. Hallof, in Klio 81 (1999): 392–396 = IG XII.6, 17 (“soon after 322”). See also (i) IG XII.6, 18 (“soon after 322”) = SEG 1, 350 = AM 44, 1919 [1920]: 5–6, no. 5F (c.322–306 b.c.), dated to c.320–c.315 b.c. by S. V. Tracy, in Chiron 20 (1990): 64; (ii) IG XII.6, 38 (“late 4th cent.”) = AM 72 (1957 [1958]): 190–191, no. 23 (306–301 b.c.); (iii) IG XII.6, 42a.ef = AM 72 (1957 [1958]): 157–158, no. 1 (321–319?); (iv) IG XII.6, 43 (“soon after 322”) = AM 72 (1957 [1958]): 164– 165, no. 2 (324–322 b.c.), with E. Badian, in ZPE 23 (1976): 289–294, and SEG 26, 1022; (v) IG XII.6, 44 (“soon after 322”) = AM 72 (1957 [1958]): 172–173, no. 5 (c.322–306 b.c.); (vi) IG XII.6, 59a (“late 4th century”) = AM 87 (1972 [1974]): 205, no. 5 (c.322–301 b.c.). 234. Meritt, “Colophon,” 377–378, no. III; 379–380, no. IV (late fourth century b.c.); SEG 17, 639.4–12 (c.301–298 b.c.). 235. Diod. 20.95.4–5, 99.3. 236. Syll. 344 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 3.59–64 (c.303 b.c.). 237. J. Robert and L. Robert, Fouilles d’Amyzon en Carie, fasc. 1 (Paris: De Boccard, 1983), 97, no. 2.1–3, and 110 (320 b.c.). 238. I.Stratonikeia 503.1–5, 9–11 (318 b.c.).

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college of the overseers. Therefore, one needs to distinguish the political dependence of a city on the ruler from the “autonomy” and “freedom” of that city. Even if a city had to bow to the ruler’s requests, this did not necessarily mean that the ruler could freely interfere in the city’s administrative organization and practices. After the death of Alexander, many Greeks united themselves in the so-called Lamian war against Macedonian oppression (323–322), which they waged under the slogan of freedom. The main ideas behind this war can be summarized as follows: (i) “Greek freedom” was to be achieved by having all Greeks act jointly: “common safety” (koine soteria) was only by the Greeks and for the Greeks; (ii) Greece, the “common fatherland” for all Greeks, had been enslaved by the “barbarians;” hence, the original name of this war was the “Greek war” (ho Hellenikos polemos); (iii) the fight for “Greek freedom” meant the fight against the Macedonian yoke; and (iv) all garrisons were to be withdrawn, which certainly concerned Macedonian garrisons, but there may also have been a nod to the “garrison clause” of the old treaties of Peace that undermined military alliances in Greece in the name of “Greek freedom.” According to Diodoros, in this war the allies of Athens were organized either as cities or as ethnic groups (ethne). Inscriptional and later literary texts provide similar information. An honorific decree for Euphron from Sicyon, which was set up only a few years after the Lamian war, refers to the cities of the Peloponnese as having joined the allies. The same follows from the evidence of Justin and Orosius, who mention that Sicyon, Argos, Corinth, and other cities in the Pelopon-

239. I.Didyma 479.1–2 (300–299); see L. Robert, in BCH 108 (1984): 467–472; I.Didyma 480.2 (299–298); Milet I 3, 139b.17–19, 19–20 (the envoys of Ptolemy II, 262–260 b.c.), with Dmitriev, Government, 69 n. 31, 295 n. 29. 240. Cf. Holleaux, Études, 3:152–153. 241. Diod. 18.10.2–5; Iust. 13.5.4; IG II 448.44–47 (318–317 b.c.), 467.6–12 (306–305 b.c.). E.g., E. Badian, “Harpalus,” JHS 81 (1961): 40; N. G. Ashton, “The Lamian War: stat magni nominis umbra,” JHS 104 (1984): 152–157; G. A. Lehmann, “Der ‘Lamische Krieg’ und die ‘Freiheit der Hellenen’: Überlegungen zur Hieronymianischen Tradition,” ZPE 73 (1988): 144–149; Schmitt, Krieg, 85–87. 242. Hyperid. 6.10, 11, 16, 39–40; IG II 448.44–45, 56 (c.318–317 b.c.); Syll. 327.6–8 (c.306–305 b.c.); Diod. 18.10.3, 18.12.3. Cf. Ashton, “The Lamian War,” 154 (on Greece and “freedom”). 243. Diod. 18.10.3; see 18.9.5; Iust. 13.5.17: the Greeks dispersed to their cities, after expelling the Macedonians beyond the “borders of Greece”; cf. Polyb. 9.35.4: the Macedonians live beyond the “borders of Greece.” The original name of the war: Ashton, “The Lamian War,” passim; Lehmann, “‘Lamische Krieg,’” 143–144. 244. Hyperid. 6.34; Paus. 1.25.3; Iust. 13.5.5. 245. Diod. 18.10.2. 246. Diod. 18.10.5. See also Diod. 18.17.6, 8; 18.38.3–4.

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nese were induced to the Athenian cause by Demosthenes, whereas Pausanias tells us that the allies were organized by cities, each with its own generals. Although the word ethnos could designate a “League,” this does not necessarily mean that the two words were always interchangeable. As Larsen noted a long time ago, “[E]thnos is used to describe any unit within the League that could not be classed as a city-state.” In many cases, ethne appears to have had a more limited application than koina. For example, Philip’s reorganization of the Thessalian League into tetrarchies in the 340s was performed kat’ethne, whereas the Aetolian ambassadors presented themselves to Philip kata ethne in 335: this expression then referred to the three main Aetolian tribes. The word ethne could have also had the same meaning during the time of the Lamian war: we know that while some Greek Leagues joined the war in their entirety, others were represented by only some of their members. Thus Aeschines tells us that the Achaeans participated except the people of Pellene and the Arcadians except Megalopolis, whereas in the words of Diodoros, the Thessalians participated except those from Pelinnaeum, the Oetaeans except those from Heraclea, the Achaeans of Phthiotis except those from Thebes, the Melians except those from Lamia. The Athenians might have had the slogan of “autonomy” in mind as well, since the Boeotians (who had partitioned Theban territory and property) appeared to be hostile to this Athenian stance. The Boeotians were, of course, afraid of the restoration of Thebes, as would eventually happen under the slogan of “autonomy.” Such evidence suggests, therefore, that the Lamian war was waged along the same principles and under the same slogans that had already been long established in Greek politics.

247. IG II 448.48–49 (318–317 b.c.); Iust. 13.5.10; Oros. 3.23.15; Paus. 1.25.4–5. 248. E.g., Sordi, Scritti, 35. Cf., however, E. Kornemann, “Κοινόν,” in RE, suppl. 4 (1924): 915. 249. J. A. O. Larsen, in CP 20 (1925): 321. 250. This problem: Kornemann, “Κοινόν,” 915; Chr. Habicht, “Eine Urkunde des Akarnanischen Bundes,” Hermes 85 (1957): 109 n. 2; H. W. Pleket ad SEG 38, 1462.21–24; S. Dmitriev, “The History and Geography of the Province of Asia during Its First Hundred Years and the Provincialization of Asia Minor,” Athenaeum, n.s., 93 (2005): 112–113. 251. Dem. 9.26; Arr. 1.10.2 (see n. 97 above). 252. Cf. the Aetolians: Diod. 18.13.4, 18.17.8; all the Dorians, the Locrians, the Phocians, and others: Diod. 18.11.1. 253. Aeschin. 3.165 (see n. 92 above); Diod. 18.11.1. The composition of the Greek alliance: N. G. Ashton, “Aspects of the Lamian War” (diss., University of Western Australia, 1980), 1:44–77. 254. Hyperid. 6.11; Diod. 18.11.3–4; Paus. 1.25.4; Schmitt, Krieg, 103–104; Gullath, Untersuchungen, 77–113. Cf. Diod. 9.54.1: Cassander “convinced” the Boeotians that the city should be restored. 255. Halfmann, “Beziehungen,” 21.

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c onclusion Philip carried the ideas of peace and freedom to their logical conclusion. On the one hand, similar to earlier treaties of Peace, his Macedonian Peace served as a framework for the military alliance, the League of Corinth. All other alliances were reorganized by Philip in the name of Greek freedom. Philip did not have to dissolve them all: his policy of protecting the “freedom” and “autonomy” of individual Greek cities or other entities was enough to paralyze any attempt at a joint resistance to his domination. Proclaiming the autonomy of member states undermined the effectiveness of such alliances in much the same way as it had done in the late fifth century and early fourth century. On the other hand, Philip rounded out the development of the slogans of peace and freedom by including all Greeks, first in his Peace and then in his alliance. Earlier treaties of Peace extended “autonomy” and “freedom” to nonparticipants as a way of containing the aspirations of the major powers that signed such treaties: if some power attempted to extend its control to other cities, a military retaliation was justified in the name of defending the autonomy and freedom of those cities. Because all the participants in the Macedonian Peace were also members of Philip’s alliance, maintaining the Peace took the form of participating in the alliance, whereas leaving the alliance meant breaking the Peace. Acting under the slogan of freedom, Philip used conflicts among the Greeks to offer himself as their defender and arbitrator. Philip’s division of Greek alliances into smaller units—that is, villages (as in the case of the Phocians) or cities or ethne, such as “tribes” or tetrarchies—was undoubtedly presented as his protection of the interests and freedom of all Greeks. Thus this was a traditional policy: the Spartans had been doing the same in Arcadia (the fact that they acted in defense of some Arcadians against others is demonstrated by the refusal of many Arcadians to join into one Arcadian League, once the Spartan domination was over), Boeotia (where the “freedom” and “autonomy” of Boeotian cities were protected by Sparta against Thebes), and seemingly elsewhere. As a result, while Philip’s League of Corinth was organized on an “ethnic” basis—as “Achaeans,” “Boeotians,” “Aetolians,” and so on— membership in the League was individual, so that the Macedonian king dealt with each member (cities, villages, tribes, tetrarchies, and so on) one-on-one. Even if some local Leagues survived, their nature

256. Cf. Iust. 8.1.1–2: “As for the Greek states, because of their individual desire to rule, they all destroyed their own sovereign power. Due to their headlong rush into mutual destruction, only when they became subject did they realize that their individual losses had brought about the ruin of them all.”

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was transformed by Philip. This form of organization, which allowed more effective control over Greece, would be inherited by Alexander, as we see in what remains of one of Hyperides’s orations. Therefore, Philip’s panhellenic Peace, which was protected by his panhellenic alliance, still required the “autonomy clause” that allowed Philip to suppress or transform military alliances in Greece. This unipolar political world looked very different from the situation found in the 370s and 360s (when Sparta, Athens, and Thebes competed for dominance by establishing their own treaties of Peace, which warranted their own military alliances) or after the death of Alexander, when Hellenistic kings tried to contain each other’s ambitions by issuing declarations of Greek freedom (see next chapter). Since all Greek cities now shared in one Macedonian Peace, the latter tended to be compared with, and contrasted against, the King’s Peace. Therefore, while the situation in Greece looked very similar on both occasions, many Greeks extolled the King’s Peace because it formally prohibited all military alliances and, thus, did not condone the domination of Greece by one power. The Macedonian Peace, however, acknowledged only one military alliance, which was presided over by the king of Macedonia. For this reason, it seems, some interpreted the Macedonian Peace as a reflection of political unification. Wilcken’s opinion was that Isocrates did not conceive of the idea of establishing a “national unified state.” Therefore, Wilcken continued, the League of Corinth did not come from Isocrates’s ideas but appeared to be Philip’s own work, which displayed Philip’s Macedonian “power politics.” Actually, neither Isocrates nor Philip had any idea of the “unified national state.” The Greeks had, and would continue to have, a predisposition for common activities, especially against “barbarians,” including the Macedonians (as in the Lamian war) or, at a later date, the Romans. This was hardly a drive toward a “unified national state,” however: Philip had no desire to unite the Greeks. He wanted to rule them, and his new organization of Greece cut across local affiliations and undermined old alliances. The Macedonian Peace put all Greeks on an equal footing, thus formally protecting the freedom of each entity but, in the end, leaving it alone against the strong and centralized kingdom of Macedonia. Although the League of

257. Hyperid. 5.18 (see n. 80 above). 258. Wilcken, Philipp II., 25–26 (“The idea of a national unitary state was alien to him [i.e., Isocrates], just like to earlier generations”); cf. Dobesch, Gedanke, 213–226. This debate: Bringmann, Studien, 15–16, 96–99. Pace Wüst, Philipp, 23–24; Wendland, “Beiträge,” 124–125. 259. Pace Raue, “Untersuchungen,” 25. 260. Cf. the opinion of Roebuck, “Settlements,” 80: as a result of Philip’s policy, “in central Greece a new balance of power among small, weak states was established,” which can be extended to all of Greece as well.

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Corinth embraced all Greeks and organized them as cities or ethne, membership in the League was only possible on an individual basis. Alexander continued along the same lines. His reign saw a new development, however, which we can largely observe because of Alexander’s campaign in Asia Minor, where he dealt with Greek, and non-Greek, cities wrested from the control of the Great King. This special situation, in which a whole region, with numerous cities, passed under the control of a new ruler in a relatively short period of time, highlighted the problem with the status of individual cities. As a result, this problem received a great deal of attention from our sources about Alexander. “Freedom” and “autonomy” were now used to define the status of individual Greek cities; the price they paid was their political loyalty to Alexander. Neither establishing a garrison in a city nor requesting a city to pay tribute (and/or to make a war contribution) was relevant to the status of the city as “subject” or “free.” Alexander’s attention to the status of Greek cities was obviously caused by his intention to work out the main principles and establish a permanent system of relations with them, which was only possible in a situation where no other power could dispute his control over the Greek world. However, the situation changed after he died.

261. See above and also Appendix 7.

3 The Slogan of Freedom under and after the Successors

i Once Alexander passed away, his great empire was divided among his generals, who would be known as the Successors. The division was carried out in Babylon, at a meeting presided over by Perdiccas, who both held the regency and administered the entire arrangement. Of the main regions, Macedonia and Greece were handed over to Antipater, Thrace was given to Lysimachos, Caria was assigned to Asander, Egypt went to Ptolemy, and Lycia and Pamphylia came under the control of Antigonos the One-Eyed. The Greeks, of course, tried to use the death of Alexander to shake off the Macedonian yoke. Antipater’s response was quick and resolute: he effectively suppressed the rebellion of the allied Greek forces, which came to be known as the Lamian war (323–322), and then established peace with individual cities, one by one. Although no direct evidence exists, the similarity between the approach used by Antipater and those previously undertaken by Philip and Alexander suggests that Antipater could have been employing the slogan of freedom to deal with the Greek cities as well, claiming to protect their freedom against each other. This would have been an adequate response from someone who had been appointed by Alexander to

1. Diod. 18.17.8-18.18.1. The conclusions of this chapter do not depend on adhering to either “high” or “low” chronology of the Diadochan period; the following dates are traditionally adopted in major works of reference. However, occasional disagreements on chronology have been marked in a few places below.

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keep watch over their freedom to the Greeks’ use of the slogan of freedom in this war. After the Lamian war, however, the main tension was found in the relationship among the Successors. Lacking legitimacy, they could be only temporary keepers of these large and, on the whole, loosely defined areas. Nevertheless, or probably for this very reason, the Successors immediately became engaged in conflicts among themselves, each trying to gain additional territory at the expense of the others and to win the Greek cities over to his side. The subsequent deaths of Perdiccas (321) and then Antipater, who held the regency after him (319), brought about further political instability. In this situation, the Successors had to deal both with their peers, by either attempting to extend control to new territories or defending their own against aggressions of others, and with Greek (and non-Greek) cities that lay within their reach. The slogan of freedom, therefore, served more than one purpose and adopted more than one form during this period, as we shall see.

t he s logan of f reedom under the s uccessors It was in the turbulent circumstances after the death of Antipater that the slogan of freedom was first used by Polyperchon, the next regent, and other Macedonian commanders. Their declaration (henceforth “Polyperchon’s declaration”), issued in the summer or autumn of 319, is considered to have been an attempt to elicit the support of Greek cities against Antipater’s son, Cassander, who claimed the position and power of his late father. According to Diodoros, “[I]t was decided to free the cities throughout Greece and to overthrow the oligarchies established in them by Antipater.” The declaration itself read as follows: “[K]now you that we, holding fast to the original policy, are preparing peace for you and such governments as you enjoyed under Philip and Alexander, and that we permit you to act in all other matters according to the decrees formerly issued by them.” By speaking of cities’ misfortunes after 323 and promising a return to the “original policy” (proairesis) of Alexander, Polyperchon’s declaration indicated that what had been taking place was a deviation from Alexander’s policy toward Greek cities. Thus the declaration was aimed at Greek cities and promised them that the situation would be restored to what it was when Alexander set off for Asia. Polyperchon also promised the return of the exiles, again in line with Alexander’s policy, thus indicating that not 2. Antipater’s special status: Arr. 7.12.4 (see p. 93, n. 154). For changes introduced by Antipater in Athens: J. M. Williams, “A Note on Athenian Chronology: 319/8-318/7 b.c.,” Hermes 112 (1984): 300–305. 3. The slogan of freedom in the Lamian war: e.g., Diod. 18.10.2-5; Iust. 13.5.4 (see chapter 2). 4. Diod. 18.55.2, 18.56.3 (see p. 97, n. 178).

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everybody observed Alexander’s decree about the restoration of exiles, which he issued shortly before his death. Internal factional struggles in the cities and the aspirations of satraps could have made this declaration attractive to Greek cities and prevented them from going against the Macedonians. This appears to have been the ultimate aim of Polyperchon’s declaration. For the Macedonians, the slogan of freedom provided a casus belli against anyone who had changed, or had attempted to change, political régimes in Greek cities. The results were instantaneous. According to Diodoros, late in 319 or early in 318, the Athenians appealed to “the kings and Polyperchon,” asking them to send aid against Nicanor, who was then the commander of Munychia, “in accordance with the edict (diagramma) that had been issued concerning the autonomy (autonomia) of the Greeks.” Diodoros uses the word diagramma, which meant a “general regulation” that took its place within the existing legal framework. Such regulations neither did nor could change political régimes in Greek cities; therefore, the aim of overthrowing tyrannies was added as a separate clause. The appeal of the Athenians to “the kings and Polyperchon” indicates that the declaration had been issued on behalf of the kings and in their interest. For this reason, it seems, Olympias also made a demand that Nicanor return that which he had taken from the Athenians. Her letter arrived after Nicanor had captured the Piraeus. The Athenians made a similar appeal to restore their autonomy, this time to Nicanor, referring to the “edict (diatagma) that had been issued.” Because Nicanor responded to Olympias by pledging to restore to the Athenians what he had seized from them, and, even more telling, the fact that the Athenians appealed to him by referring to Polyperchon’s declaration suggest that the declaration had been issued in the name of the kings and thus was formally binding for everybody. A little later, Polyperchon sent envoys to Greek cities in the Peloponnese, ordering changes in their governments and restoration of their “autonomy.” The overthrow of oligar5. Esp. Diod. 18.56.4-6; Dmitriev, “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” 348–381. 6. Diod. 18.56.7. 7. The date: Williams, “Chronology,” 300–305. 8. Diod. 18.64.3. Nicanor’s capture of Munychia immediately after Antipater’s death: Plut. Phoc. 31.1-2. 9. See C. B. Welles, in AJA 42 (1938): 250; E. Bickermann, in RPh 12 (1938): 295, 308, 311–312; Chr. Habicht, in AM 87 (1972 [1974]): 215. 10. Diod. 18.65.1. On the basis of this declaration, Dixon, “Corinth, Greek Freedom,” 160–161, speculated that Polyperchon “revived the League of Corinth,” just like Dixon conjectured that Antipater, who was left by Alexander to protect the “freedom of the Greeks,” assumed the responsibilities of the hegemon of the Corinthian League (154; see also p. 95, n. 166). But the connection does not seem to be so obvious; and, as we have seen earlier, declarations of Greek freedom started to be made long before Philip II founded the League of Corinth. 11. Diod. 18.64.5. 12. Diod. 18.69.3.

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chies reflected the intentions of Polyperchon and other Macedonian commanders, who issued the declaration of Greek freedom. Polyperchon besieged Megalopolis, which alone held on to its friendship with Cassander, thus highlighting the political character of Polyperchon’s declaration. Probably in 315, Polyperchon concluded an alliance with Antigonos and transferred the regency to him. The importance of this event was marked by the fact that Antigonos counted the years of his rule from 316–315 or 315–314 b.c. Thus, Cassander—over whose head Polyperchon had been made the regent by Antipater and who, for this reason, was Polyperchon’s enemy—became the enemy of Antigonos. The latter, therefore, spoke against Cassander by issuing a declaration in 315 according to which, in the words of Diodoros, “it was voted that Cassander was to be an enemy unless he destroyed these cities again (i.e., Cassandreia and Thebes), released the king and his mother Roxanê from imprisonment and restored them to the Macedonians, and, in general, yielded obedience to Antigonos the duly established general who had succeeded to the guardianship of the throne. It was also stated that all the Greeks were to be free, not subject to foreign garrisons, and autonomous.” Because this declaration was nothing but Antigonos’s ultimatum to Cassander, the slogan of Greek freedom appears to have been made part of their struggle for supremacy in the Greek world. As before, this slogan allowed the one who used it to go after his competitor as if in defense of the freedom of Greek cities, which did not change the status of Greek cities. In the following year (314), Ptolemy, another former general to Alexander and one of Antigonos’s main rivals, “published a similar decree himself, since he wished the Greeks to know that he was no less interested in their autonomy than was Antigonos.” 13. Cf. Diod. 18.55.2 and 18.69.3. 14. Alliances: Diod. 18.69.4; Megalopolis: Diod. 18.69.4–18.72.1 with Williams, “Chronology,” 305: spring 317. 15. Diod. 19.61.3. Beloch, Geschichte, 4(1): 120 n. 1; Billows, Antigonos, 114–115 (with notes); W. Heckel, The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire (London and New York: Routledge, 1992), 201; A. B. Bosworth, “Polyperchon,” in OCD, 1213. This important event was surprisingly neglected in interpretations of the subsequent Antigonos’s declaration of Greek freedom by Gruen, Hellenistic World, 134, and R. M. Errington, A History of Macedonia (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), 139–142. See further in the text and n. 25 below. 16. 316–315: S. Smith, “The Chronology of Philip Arrhidaeus, Antigonus and Alexander IV,” Revue d’assyrologie et d’archéologie orientale 1925, 186. 315–314: W. Otto, “Die Bedeutung der von Sidney Smith, Babylonian Historical Texts veröffentlichten Diadochenchronik,” Sitzungsberichte Bayern. Akad., Philos.-Phil. und Hist. Klasse 1925, Sitzung 7. November, p. 11, with criticism from Smith, “Chronology,” 187. 17. Diod. 18.55.2. 18. M. Sartre, L’Asie Mineure et l’Anatolie d’Alexandre à Dioclétien (IVe s. av. J.-C./IIIe s. ap. J.-C.) (Paris: Colin, 1995), 22. Pace W. Lindsay Adams, in Balkan Studies 34 (1993): 211; Hansen, “The ‘Autonomous CityState,’” 40. 19. Diod. 19.61.3–4 and 19.62.1, respectively. See Heuss, “Antigonos,” 150–151.

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It is hardly possible to disagree with the many people who have referred to such declarations as the political propaganda of the Successors. However, subtle nuances of this situation need to be highlighted. First, the declarations of Antigonos and Ptolemy have been grouped and studied together. The former is considered to have been modeled on that of Polyperchon. Antigonos’s move, in particular, has been interpreted as a predilection for freedom and autonomy, which resulted from his “effort to win Greek support, in expectation of eleutheria (that is freedom), for his military effort.” Similarities between the pronouncements of Polyperchon and Antigonos concerned their pledges to protect the interests of the throne and promises to restore the political situation to its previous state, that is, as it had been during the reigns of Philip and Alexander. Polyperchon issued his declaration soon after assuming the title of “the overseer of the kings and the general” in 319. Antigonos most likely inherited not only the responsibilities of the regent from Polyperchon but the slogan of freedom as well. For this reason, Ptolemy’s declaration neither did nor could have had the same effect as that of Antigonos. Not surprisingly, Ptolemy’s pronouncement received much less publicity, quite unlike the one made by Antigonos. We know that Ptolemy II made a proclamation of Greek freedom “in line with his ancestors,” either in the mid-260s or, according to more recent opinions, in the

20. Welles, “Liberty,” 42; R. H. Simpson, “Antigonus the One-Eyed and the Greeks,” Historia 8 (1959): 390; H. Hauben, “Rhodes, Alexander and the Diadochi from 333/332 to 304 b.c.,” Historia 26 (1977): 316; Orth, Machtanspruch, 14; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 134; F. W. Walbank, The Hellenistic World, rev. ed. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992), 93; Billows, Antigonos, 199–200; Sartre, L’Asie Mineure, 21–22. 21. E.g., P. Roussel, La Grèce et l’Orient des guerres médiques à la conquête romaine (Paris: Alcan, 1928), 388; Heuss, “Antigonos,” 150–154; Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 5; Wehrli, Antigone, 111; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 135; Lehmann, “‘Lamische Krieg,’” 137, 147; C. Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie: Zur Aussenpolitik hellenistischer Mittelstaaten (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 50; Dixon, “Corinth, Greek Freedom,” 172; R. M. Errington, A History of the Hellenistic World, 323-30 b.c. (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 31. 22. Roussel, La Grèce et l’Orient, 388; P. Cloché, “Remarques sur la politique d’Antigone le Borgne à l’égard des cités grecques,” AC 17 (1948): 104–105, 109; Wehrli, Antigone, 110. See Heuss, “Antigonos,” 193. 23. Simpson, “Antigonus,” 389; Will, “Succession,” 47; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 134; Ruzicka, “World,” 131. 24. Diod. 18.48.4; Plut. Phoc. 31.1. Beloch, Geschichte, 4(2): 238; Th. Lenschau, “Polyperchon (I),” in RE 21.2 (1952): 1799–1800; H. Bengtson, Die Strategie in der hellenistischen Zeit (Munich: Beck, 1937), 1:60–63, 81–87; W. Heckel, The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire (London and New York: Routledge, 1992), 193–194. 25. Müller, Antigonos, 34–36; E. Badian, “Polyperchon [1],” in NPauly 10 (2001): 75: in 315, Antigonos “took over the position of Polyperchon and his policy as guardian of the arrested royals and of the Greeks”; pace Billows, Antigonos, 203, distinguishing between Polyperchon, who “never committed himself to the principle of autonomy,” and Antigonos, with his “express commitment to autonomy and freedom,” and Dixon, “Corinth, Greek Freedom,” 170 (“Antigonos Monophthalmos was the first Diadochos to imitate Polyperchon’s declaration of Greek freedom”), 171 (“a conscious effort  .  .  .  to usurp from Polyperchon his claim to be the defender of Greek freedom”). 26. Syll. 434/435 (= Staatsverträge 3, no. 476).16–18, dated to 266–265 by Kirchner (ad IG II 687) and Dittenberger, and to “267, 266, or 265” by Schmitt.

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summer of 268. But Ptolemy II was likely to present this proclamation as conforming to the declaration of Greek freedom issued by Ptolemy I in Corinth in 308. And his “ancestors” should have included Philip II and Alexander, as Ptolemy I had claimed connection to the royal line of Macedonia. Second, as tools of international politics, such declarations neither promoted nor reflected the “principle of Greek freedom.” Polyperchon, Antigonos, and Ptolemy all used the freedom of Greek cities as a means of impeding the activities of their enemies and of securing a pretext for their own assault. As a result, the authors of such declarations violated no “principles” and retracted no commitments when they proceeded to sack Greek cities in the name of Greek freedom. Prior to 315, the interrelationship of the Successors with individual Greek cities did not include the topic of freedom, as we see in the assault of Arrhidaeos, nominally a satrap of Antigonos at that time, on Cyzicus and other cities in the Hellespont, in 319–318. While reprimanding Arrhidaeos for his assault on Cyzicus and removing him from the post, Antigonos himself (this future “champion of Greek freedom”) wanted to use Cyzicus as an important base for further military exploits. However, the forces of Antigonos arrived after Arrhidaeos had already retreated from Cyzicus. Although Antigonos made his goodwill toward the city public, in the words of Diodoros, “he did not achieve his entire object.” There was not a word about freedom, at least not in the account of Diodoros. His description of this episode allegedly relied on Hieronymos of Cardia, who had probably used Antigonos’s official statement. Nor was there any talk of freedom when Antigonos took over the cities of Lydia, which the Lydian satrap, Cleitus (an ally of Polyperchon), had garrisoned in anticipation of Antigonos’s advance. Another aspect of the declaration issued by Antigonos in 315 b.c. was that, in addition to “freedom” and “autonomy,” it also proclaimed that Greeks were not to

27. H. Heinen, Untersuchungen zur hellenistischen Geschichte des 3. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1972), 122–123, 133; F. W. Walbank, “Macedonia and Greece,” in CAH 7.1 (1984): 236; Habicht, Athens, 144; H. Cadell, in Le culte du souverain dans l’Egypte ptolémaïque au IIIe siècle avant notre ère: Actes du colloque international, Bruxelles, 1 mai 1995 (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 1. 28. As Suda s.v. Δημήτριος (see n. 103 below). 29. M. I. Rostovtzeff, “Progonoi,” JHS 55 (1935): 56–66. 30. E.g., W. W. Tarn, in JHS 53 (1933): 57–61; Ch. F. Edson Jr., in HSCP 45 (1934): 224 n. 2. 31. Pace, e.g., Hauben, “Rhodes, Alexander,” 316. 32. Diod. 18.51.1. Cyzicus: Diod. 18.51.2–7 and FGrH 239 (Marmor Parium) B, F 12. Other cities: Diod. 18.52.4. 33. Diod. 18.52.1, with J. Marincola, in A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography, vol. 1, ed. J. Marincola (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 177. 34. Diod. 18.52.4–6; FGrH 239 (Marmor Parium) B, F 13.

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be subject to foreign garrisons. This statement was quite in line with the content of Peace treaties from the earlier half of the fourth century. Antigonos’s slogan of Greek freedom was thus coupled with the “garrison clause”; both were intended to break down a military alliance that had been forged against him. This alliance was the Boeotian Federation, which Cassander seemingly tried to resurrect in its old form, as follows from his push to rebuild the city of Thebes in 316–315. Finally, the declaration of 315 transformed Antigonos’s relations with individual cities, thus revealing an additional purpose: “[S]ince autonomy depends in the first instance on Antigonus as benefactor, such oaths imply agreement to act to protect the benefactor—Antigonus—and not to harm him by, e.g., supporting his opponents.” Immediately after Antigonos issued it, he “sent men in every direction to carry the decree, for he believed that through their hope of freedom he would gain the Greeks as eager participants with him in the war.” Actions came next after words very quickly. In the following year, Antigonos’s general, Aristodemos, was about to free—“in accordance with the decree” (Antigonos’s declaration of 315)—the city of Aegium, contested by Ptolemy, but Aristodemos’s men got out of hand and sacked the city. We can deduce the real significance of these general statements in various other ways. For example, after making a similar declaration in 314, Ptolemy concluded a pact with Asander, Antigonos’s rebellious satrap of Caria, who, as Diodoros says, “was strong and had a considerable number of cities subject to him.” Having issued his declaration of Greek freedom, Ptolemy, therefore, saw nothing wrong in that subject cities retained their status for the future. The first proposed settlement between Antigonos and Asander had included the clause about the latter giving autonomy to the Greek cities in his satrapy, which is certainly reminiscent both of the Spartan ultimatum to the Elaeans in 400 and of the mutual demands of the Spartans and Thebans to give autonomy to Boeotia and Messenia, respectively, as we have already seen. Both then and now, employing the slogan of “autonomy” served to undermine the military strength of the enemy: the true reason for this standoff between Antigonos and Asander was the latter’s involvement in negotiations with Ptolemy and Seleucos. No wonder Asander refused to comply

35. Diod. 19.61.4: ἐλευθέρους, ἀφρουρητούς, αὐτονόμους. 36. Diod. 19.53.2, 19.54.1-2; FGrH 239 (Marmor Parium) B, F 14. See also n. 159 below. 37. Cf. Ruzicka, “World,” 133. 38. Diod. 19.61.4. 39. Diod. 19.66.3: τοˆι ς Αἰγεῦσι κατὰ δόγμα τὴν ἐλευθερίαν βουλόμενος ἀποκαταστῆσαι. 40. Diod. 19.62.2. 41. Xen. Hellen. 3.2.21-31 and Plut. Ages. 27.4-28.2 with Xen. Hellen. 6.3.7–9 (see pp. 25, n. 77, and 46, n. 219).

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with Antigonos’s demands. In the following year (313), Antigonos forced Asander to make a deal: their treaty included a clause obliging Asander to leave Greek cities “autonomous.” Antigonos also “dispatched a force both by sea and by land to liberate cities,” thus, again, promoting his interests with reference to the declaration of Greek freedom that he issued in 315. Then, in 313–312 or 312–311, Antigonos’s generals Medios and Docimos encouraged the people of Miletus to assert their freedom (eleutheria) by removing the garrison of Asander. All these words and deeds had nothing to do with the actual status of individual cities. Further evidence about the use of the slogan of Greek freedom for the immediate political aims of the Successors is provided by the activities of the two generals (and nephews) of Antigonos, who were vying for his favor. One of them, Telesphoros, was sent by Antigonos to the Peloponnese with the order to free local cities from the control of Polyperchon and his supporters because Antigonos hoped “by doing this to establish among the Greeks the belief that he truly was concerned for their independence (autonomia).” Telesphoros managed to remove the garrisons and set free (eleutherose) several cities, but not Sicyon and Corinth. “Freedom” and “autonomy” seem to have been used interchangeably on such occasions. The other nephew, Polemaeos, attempted to liberate Athens and managed to free Chalcis from the garrison of Cassander. Polemaeos “left the Chalcideans without a garrison in order to make it evident that Antigonos in very truth proposed to free (eleutheroun) the Greeks.” After the defeat of Antigonos’s forces in Egypt in 312, Telesphoros revolted. He fortified the citadel in Elis and “enslaved the city.” Polemaeos, who remained loyal to Antigonos until 310, leveled the citadel and “gave back their freedom (eleutheria) to the Elaeans.” In the last case, Diodoros makes no explicit reference to the slogan of freedom or to the declaration of 315. But Polemaeos likely used the slogan of freedom in the same way as Antigonos’s generals had done on various occasions after 315.

42. Diod. 19.75.1 and 3. 43. Diod. 19.75.4. Syll. 322 (= Milet I 3, 123). 2–4. Different systems of dating are those established by A. Rehm (ad Milet I 3, 123) and E. Cavaignac, respectively. For 313-312, see also Orth, Machtanspruch, 18 n. 6; W. Ameling, in Schenkungen hellenistischer Herrscher an griechischer Städte und Heiligtümer, ed. K. Bringmann and H. von Steuben (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1995), 1:324–326, no. 275 (= Syll. 322); Herrmann, Milet VI.1 (1997), 166 ad nos. 122 and 123; W. Günther, in Chiron 28 (1998): 23. For 312–311: E. Cavaignac, in Revue des Études historiques 90 (1924): 311; D. M. Lewis, in Πρακτικὰ τοῦ η´ διεθνοῦς συνεδρίου Ἑλληνικῆς καὶ Λατινικῆς ἐπιγραφικῆς, ed. A. G. Kalogeropoulou (Athens: Epigraphical Museum, 1984), 57 n. 11. 44. Diod. 19.74.1–2. Athens: R. H. Simpson, in Mnemosyne, ser. 4, 8 (1955): 34–37. 45. Diod. 19.78.2. Cf. Syll. 328 (306–305 b.c.). This name (not “Ptolemaeos”): Beloch, Geschichte, 4(1): 124 n. 3; Wehrli, Antigone, 51, 112; J. Seibert, Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Ptolemaios’ I. (Munich: Beck, 1969), 177; W. Ameling, “Polemaeus [1],” in NPauly 10 (2001): 2. 46. Diod. 19.87.2–3.

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In 313, Ptolemy captured and sacked several Greek cities that lay in Antigonos’s zone of control. He clearly did not consider himself bound by his declaration of 314 to preserve the freedom of Greek cities or to refrain from putting further limits on their status. In the following year, Antigonos established an alliance with the Rhodians, which secured him ten Rhodian ships fully equipped for war, presenting it as a defense of Greek freedom. Also in 312, Ptolemy defeated Demetrios, the son of Antigonos, thus giving another blow to his main rival. Although Antigonos partially recovered from this loss by capturing Syria and Phoenicia, the successes of Seleucos in Mesopotamia in 312 made him seek peace. The treaty of 311 stabilized the political situation. Along with the peace treaty of 311, the Successors issued a joint declaration that acknowledged the autonomy of Greek cities. This was a clear attempt to secure a political balance between the power held by Antigonos and the rest of them. Our main sources regarding this declaration are the text of Diodoros and the letter of Antigonos to Scepsis, a city in Asia Minor. According to Diodoros, “Cassander, Ptolemy, and Lysimachos came to terms with Antigonos and made a treaty. In this it was provided that Cassander be general of Europe until Alexander, the son of Roxanê, should come of age; that Lysimachos rule Thrace, and that Ptolemy rule Egypt; that Antigonos have first place in Asia; and that the Greeks be autonomous.” Antigonos’s letter to Scepsis read as follows: “Know then that the truce had been established and that peace is made. We have provided in the treaty that all the Greeks are to swear to aid each other in preserving their freedom and autonomy, thinking that while we lived in all human expectation these would be protected, but that afterward freedom would remain more certainly secure for all the Greeks if both they and the men in power are bound by oaths. For them to swear also to help to guard the terms of the treaty which we have made with each other, seems to us neither discreditable nor disadvantageous for the Greeks; therefore it seems to me best for you to take the oath which we have sent.” For the same reason of securing the political balance, the treaty of 311 explicitly referred to Antigonos as having rule “over all Asia,” thus leaving no place to

47. Diod. 19.79.4–7. See Sartre, L’Asie Mineure, 22. 48. Diod. 19.77.4: τὴν τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐλευθέρωσιν (312 b.c.). 49. The date: Beloch, Geschichte, 4(1): 129–130 and 4(2): 241–242. 50. J. K. Winnicki, “Militäroperationen von Ptolemaios I. und Seleukos I. in Syrien in den Jahren 312–311 v. Chr. (I),” Ancient Society 20 (1989): 65; Errington, Hellenistic World, 33–34. 51. Diod. 19.105.1: Ἀντίγονον δὲ ἀφηγεˆι σθαι τῆς Ἀσίας πάσης, τοὺς δὲ ῾ Έλληνας αὐτονόμους εἶναι. 52. OGI 5 (= Welles, Correspondence, no. 1 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 428).51–61 (trans. Welles). See also OGI 6 (honors to Antigonos from Scepsis, 311 b.c.). 53. Diod. 19.105.1 (see n. 51 above); Bengtson, Strategie, 1:117: as another way of στρατηγὸν εἶναι τῆς Ἀσίας.

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Seleucos’s rule, as modern scholarship has generally acknowledged. This attitude hardly resulted from the Successors’ having a low opinion of Seleucos, but because they knew that Seleucos was trying to take Mesopotamia from Antigonos and had no intention of confirming the existing borders. Hence, Seleucos was not mentioned in the treaty of 311, which was aimed at setting up territorial limits to be acknowledged by everybody. This situation, therefore, was quite different from those that occurred in 316–315, when the other Successors pressed Antigonos for territorial rearrangements and “demanded that Cappadocia and Lycia be given to Cassander, Hellespontine Phrygia to Lysimachos, and all Syria to Ptolemy, and Babylonia to Seleucus”; in 315, when the declaration of Greek freedom by Antigonos aimed to change the situation in his favor and served as the basis for subsequent war; and in 312, when Seleucos’s hopes were revived by Ptolemy. The reason Seleucos was included in, or left out of, some document adopted by the Successors thus depended more on the context and nature of this document than on whether he was “a negligible figure.” Nor was Seleucos himself interested in subscribing to the treaty of 311: the Seleucid era had begun either in October 312, in the Greek reckoning (probably in connection with the victory of Ptolemy and Seleucos over Antigonos’s forces at Gaza in either early or late 312), or in April 311, according to the Babylonian chronology. At any rate, this was before the Successors agreed to the terms of the treaty, later in 311. Plutarch probably referred to this moment when he said that Seleucos “dealt as king” (ὡς βασιλεύς) with the barbarians, even before other Successors accepted royal titles. This certainly means that Seleucos would have opposed any arrangement put forth by the Successors that did not accommodate his royal aspirations. Other Successors thought of Seleucos at best as an internal problem of Antigonos’s domain. The fact that Antigonos

54. A. Neppi Modona, in Athenaeum, n.s., 11 (1933): 3 n. 2; H. Bengtson, Herrschergestalten des Hellenismu (Munich: Beck, 1975), 48; Billows, Antigonos, 132 n. 66; Errington, Hellenistic World, 37. 55. Welles, Correspondence, 6–7; Walbank, Hellenistic World, 26, 54–56. 56. 316–315: Diod. 19.57.1. 315: Diod. 19.61.1–5. 312: App. Syr. 54. 57. Billows, Antigonos, 134. 58. Diod. 19.83-84, 19.85.3. Early 312: Beloch, Geschichte, 4(2): 241–242; Wehrli, Antigone, 143; A. Mehl, Seleukos Nikator und sein Reich (Louvain: [s.n.], 1986), 82, 93. Late 312: Winnicki, “Militäroperationen (I),” 59. 59. Otto, “Bedeutung,” 11; Smith, “Chronology,” 187–190: 311–310 b.c.; A. J. Sachs and D. J. Wiseman, in Iraq 16 (1954): 205–206; Bengtson, Herrschergestalten, 47; Winnicki, “Militäroperationen (I),” 71; S. M. Sherwin-White, “Seleucus (I),” in OCD, 1381; Errington, Hellenistic World, 39. 60. Diod. 19.105.1; Billows, Antigonos, 132. 61. Plut. Demetr. 18.2. Interestingly, another active participant in those events, Craterus, is also said to have been venerated “like a king” (οἷα βασιλέα) by his troops at that time: Suda s.v. Kράτερος = Arr. Succ. F 19. Such evidence reveals royal aspirations of the Successors before they assumed royal titles.

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joined in the appeal by all the participants in the treaty of 311 to Greek cities, encouraging them to preserve their freedom and thus the new political order, demonstrates that he considered the threat of Seleucos to be very serious. Although it was a blow to Antigonos’s plans for extending his rule over all parts of Alexander’s former empire, the peace treaty of 311 provided him with a chance to turn all his attention to Seleucos. This explanation would accommodate a popular view that Antigonos himself was behind making an arrangement among the Successors in 311. He was indeed facing a real challenge, judging by the fact that after several years Antigonos preferred to sign a peace treaty with Seleucos (308). In addition, by delimiting the territory of the Successors, the treaty of 311 allowed them to establish permanent relationships with the individual Greek cities that lay within their domains. It is difficult to say if it was Antigonos who came up with the idea of extracting oaths from Greek cities—such as in the above-mentioned case of Scepsis—as a means of securing them against the ambitions of other Successors. While Antigonos had suffered a major defeat in Syria and needed breathing space for dealing with Seleucos, other Successors wanted to obtain additional guarantees for the settlement that they had been trying to reach for so long. Therefore, the phrase from Antigonos’s letter to Scepsis, in which he referred to the Greek oaths for freedom as resulting from the agreement among all the participants in the treaty (γεγράφαμεν δὲ ἐν τῆι ὁμολογίαι ὀμόσαι τοὺς ῾ Έλληνας πάντας συνδιαφυλάσσειν ἀλλήλοις τὴν ἐλευθερίαν καὶ τὴν αὐτ[ον]ομίαν), probably reflected the existing situation correctly: the slogan of freedom, as well as that of autonomy, gave each of the Successors the right to defend his own territory against the rest in what continued to be the lack of any legitimate claim on anybody’s part. This observation also suggests that the interpretation of the treaty of 311 as a “common peace” does not stand, at least not in the sense that usually has been ascribed to this phrase, that is, a peace in which all, or almost all, Greek cities participated. Alfred Heuss, followed by many, interpreted Antigonos’s letter to Scepsis as an invitation to create a bond of oaths among Greek cities, which would

62. E.g., Seibert, Untersuchungen, 183. Pace Billows, Antigonos, 134. Cf., however, App. Syr. 54–55. 63. Müller, Antigonos, 43; Billows, Antigonos, 203; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 135; Ruzicka, “World,” 131, 133; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 48. 64. Otto, “Bedeutung,” 12; Bengtson, Geschichte, 377; Mehl, Seleukos, 131–134. 65. As Heuss, “Antigonos,” 157–158. 66. OGI 5 (= Welles, Correspondence, no. 1 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 428). 53–56. 67. For bibliographic references, see p. 55, n. 270.

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parallel the agreements of the Successors. Again, this interpretation was in line with his overall idea of viewing a “common peace” as an arrangement in which all Greek city-states took part. Greek cities did uphold each other: for example, Parium supported Cyzicus during the above-mentioned, ill-fated assault by Arrhidaeos in 319, whereas Cyzicus sent help to Byzantium when the latter was being besieged by Antiochos II. Several cities could set up a local military alliance (symmachia), as happened around the mid-second century. There is no evidence, however, that Greek cities exchanged oaths or joined mutually protective agreements of a universal character. Greek cities, whose independence and freedom the Successors had pledged to protect, were neither “contracting parties” (“Kontrahenten,” in the words of Heuss) in the treaty of 311 nor had they been acting as such in treaties of Peace signed earlier in the fourth century. The letter of Antigonos to Scepsis makes it quite clear that in 311 Greek cities were not expected to swear oaths to each other but to swear oaths to help jointly protect the “freedom” and “autonomy” of each other. As Welles put it, “[T]his was an ingenious way of involving the Greeks in a conflict otherwise neither welcome to nor important for them.” Each of the Successors now intended to establish his own Peace within his domain and to build a military alliance within the framework of that Peace. Antigonos also established the Hellenic League, or resurrected the Corinthian League, whose member cities were the allies (symmachoi) of Antigonos and his son Demetrios. This Hellenic League represented a different form of relationship between Antigonos and the Greek cities than did the oaths by individual cities, such as Scepsis, to Antigonos. In practical terms, the words of Antigonos meant that now, when the territorial possessions of the Successors had been acknowledged by a treaty and a joint declaration, each of them had the right to exact loyalty from those cities that lay within the borders of his domain, in exchange for an acknowledgment of those cities’ status,

68. Heuss, “Antigonos,” 158, 187; P. Klose, Die völkerrechtliche Ordnung der hellenistischen Staatenwelt in der Zeit von 280 bis 168 v. Chr. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Völkerrechts (Munich: Beck, 1972), 19–21; Ryder, Eirene, 163; Hauben, “Rhodes, Alexander,” 332; Errington, Hellenistic World, 35. 69. Heuss, “Antigonos,” 187; Momigliano, Pace, 36–37; Hauben, “Rhodes, Alexander,” 332–333; F. Landucci Gattinoni, “La pace del 311 a.C.,” in La pace nel mondo antico, 109–111. 70. Diod. 18.51.6; Aen. Tact. 12.3. J. M. Reynolds, Aphrodisias and Rome (London: Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies, 1982), no. 1 = I.Kibyra 2: Plarasa/Aphrodisias, Cibyra, and Tabae (shortly after 167?). See, in general, H.-L. Fernoux, in Les cités grecques et la guerre en l’Asie Mineure à l’époque hellénistique (Tours: Presses universitaires François-Rabelais, 2004), 115–172, mostly with evidence from the third century and the second century. 71. Welles, “Liberty,” 42. For this policy of Antigonos as aimed at securing the sympathies of the Greeks: Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 49 (“to win the affection of the Greeks”). 72. Diod. 20.46.1; Plut. Dem. 25.3 (see n. 113 below). 73. Pace Heuss, “Antigonos,” 189–193.

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including their “freedom.” Such oaths would guarantee the status of the city on the one hand, and contribute to the stability of the peace treaty among the Successors on the other. The general phrase, that Greeks were expected to “swear to aid each other to preserve their freedom and autonomy,” is unfolded further in the text of the letter in the sense that the freedom of the cities and the stability of the treaty would be better protected if the cities and the “men in power” were bound by oaths. Antigonos, therefore, “invited” Scepsis to swear an oath to him, having kindly added the text of this oath to his letter. One can see Antigonos’s declaration in a better light, it seems, if one compares it with the declaration issued by Polyperchon, his predecessor as the regent of the kings and protector of “Greek freedom,” which read as follows: “Let all the Greeks pass a decree (dogma) that no one shall engage in war or in public activity against us, and that if anyone disobeys, he and his family shall be exiled and his property shall be confiscated.” Then this “decree,” which was another word for an oath of loyalty, was sent to “all the cities.” In a similar fashion, Antigonos’s letter shows that Greek cities’ oaths to preserve freedom served the purpose of guarding the terms of the treaty (or, in other words, preserving the balance of power in the Greek world), and that the slogan of freedom provided a framework for a political settlement among the Successors. Relations between Antigonos and Scepsis were now based on the oath of the city and, as one might expect, Antigonos’s pledge to protect the status of Scepsis in the future. No direct evidence exists stating that the slogan of Greek freedom was used as the basis for a permanent relationship between the Successors and individual cities prior to 311. There can be no doubt, however, that other Greek cities in the territories controlled by Antigonos were also required to swear an oath of loyalty to him after 311 and that these individual pacts between Antigonos and the Greek cities were concluded within the general framework of the declaration of 311. A fragmented inscription from Ios (dated to 306–301, because of its reference to Antigonos as “king”) speaks of his restoration of “freedom” and “ancestral laws” to the city, which the citizens reciprocated by honoring Antigonos in several ways, including, it seems, a display of political loyalty. A Colophonian

74. Diod. 18.56.7, 18.57.1. Wilcken, Beiträge, 3, 25–33, and Hampl, Staatsverträge, 114–115, thought of Polyperchon’s declaration as a revival of the situation that was established in 337. This declaration (Diod. 18.55.2–3) indeed offered to protect the status of all Greek cities as they had been “during the reigns of Philip and Alexander.” 75. Simpson, “Antigonus,” 392–393. The rôle of Antigonos for establishing the practice of using the slogan of freedom in relations between Hellenistic monarchs and Greek cities: Koehn, Krieg-DiplomatieIdeologie, 50. 76. IG XII suppl. 168.

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decree of 311–306 mentions Antigonos as having preserved the freedom of that city, like Alexander before him, with reference to the traditional “dignity” (doxa) of the “ancestors.” According to Rostovtzeff, a reference to “ancestors,” which is encountered in several inscriptions from this period, supposedly meant a link to earlier Macedonian kings, including Philip II and Alexander III. Another document that Rostovtzeff adduced in his examination of the meaning of this word was a letter by Antiochos the First (r.281–261) or the Second (r.261–246) to the city of Erythrae, in which the king confirmed the “autonomy” and freedom from taxes of that city, again with reference to such steps as conformed with those of his “ancestors.” Again following Antigonos, Ptolemy also approached individual Greek cities that lay within the borders of his domain. He exchanged oaths with Iasus in the treaty they concluded between 309 and 305, in which Ptolemy promised to preserve the “freedom” and “autonomy” of that city: “The people of Iasus swear to Ptolemy and Ptolemy to the people of Iasus. The oath will be as follows etc. Ptolemy swears the following oath to the people of Iasus: ‘I swear by Zeus, Ge etc. that I will protect the city of Iasus free, autonomous, ungarrisoned and not subject to tribute.’” Treaties concluded with individual Greek cities by military commanders similarly confirmed the freedom and autonomy of those cities, as demonstrated by oaths sworn by Eupolemos, the general of Ptolemy I, to Theangela, and by Aristoboulos and (later) Asklepiodotos, who were in charge of the local garrison in Iasus. The acknowledgment of the freedom of Greek cities came in return for their political obedience. Such treaties did not have, it appears, any direct effect on the cities’ legal status or on their administration. Therefore, this situation should be distinguished from those cases where rulers of the Ptolemaic dynasty “restored” freedom, laws, and “ancestral

77. Meritt, “Colophon,” 361, col. I (= Maier, Mauerbauinschriften, 1:224–227, no. 69 = SEG 19, 698), ll. 6–8 (dated by Meritt to 334 b.c. and by L. Robert, OMS, 2:1239–1240, to 311–306 b.c.). 78. Rostovtzeff, “Progonoi,” 56–66. 79. Rostovtzeff, “Progonoi,” 62. OGI 223 (= I.Erythrai 31 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 15).21–22 and 26–27 (c.270–260 b.c.). Cf. another version, or a copy, of the same letter (?) in I.Erythrai 30 (c.270–261 b.c.). 80. I.Iasos 2.47–53 (309–305 b.c.) with A. Giovannini, “Le traité entre Iasos et Ptolémée Ier et les relations entre les cités grecques d’Asie Mineure et les souverains hellénistiques,” EA 37 (2004): 75, 77–79. 81. L. Robert, Collection Froehner. I: Inscriptions grecques (Paris: Éditions des Bibliothèques nationales, 1936), 69–70, no. 52.22-29 together with his commentary on pp. 70–77. 82. I.Iasos 3.11-15 (c.309–305 b.c.) and 21–25 (after 305 b.c.). I have accepted Giovannini’s interpretation of the status of Aristoboulos and Asklepiodotos: Giovannini, “Le traité,” 77–79, which does not seem to have provoked any criticisms, unlike his idea of the status of Iasus; see Bull.ép. 2005, no. 428.

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constitution” to Greek cities, as we see in the decree by the Nesiotai, or the so-called Nikouria Decree, which has been dated to either the late 280s or the 260s. Other Successors were acting in the same manner as well. An inscription from Priene, which was set up some time after the tyranny of Hiero (c.300–c.297) was over, contains the edict of Alexander, granting “freedom” and “autonomy” to that city. If the traditional dating of this inscription to c.285 is correct, then it should probably be connected with another document, plausibly identified as the letter of Lysimachos to Priene and from c. 285 as well, which praises the fidelity of the city and fulfills its request: “Your envoys  . . . declared the good will (eunoia) that the people have toward us and [since we consider it] to our interest [that you should be friendly to us] as you have been before, [we grant] as [your envoys] requested.” It is difficult to judge what the city had requested for its loyalty: we really do not know if it concerned “tax-reduction or exemption” or a “rectification” of boundaries, or, as argued in a more recent study, “autonomy.” What is clear, however, is that such documents show that the Successors gradually started to employ Alexander’s approach, using the concept of freedom as the basis of the relationship between rulers and individual cities, and that the idea of a quid pro quo relationship was shared by both sides. Certainly, this form of relationship between a ruler and an individual city (which switched from using “freedom” as a general slogan to applying it to the status of the city with respect to the ruler) became possible only after the Successors had established and acknowledged the limits of their domains. One more example where such relations between Lysimachos and Greek cities could have been reflected is in the decree that was issued by the cities participating in the cult of Athena Ilias in honor of Malousios, son of Bachios, from Gargara, who financed the embassy to that king. According to the text of the

83. Syll. 390 (= IG XII.7, 506). 11–16. E.g., W. Dittenberger, ad loc.; Ph. Bruneau, Recherches sur les cultes de Délos à l’époque hellénistique et à l’époque impériale (Paris: De Boccard, 1970), 251; K. Buraselis, Das hellenistische Makedonien und die Ägäis (Munich: Beck, 1982), 180; E. G. Turner and H. Heinen, in CAH 7 (1984): 138, 417; W. Huss, Ägypten in hellenistischer Zeit, 332–30 v.Chr. (Munich: Beck, 2001), 212; G. Reger, Regionalism and Change in the Economy of Independent Delos, 314–167 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1994), 38. 84. E.g., I. L. Merker, in Historia 19 (1970): 149–150; R. A. Hazzard, Imagination of a Monarchy: Studies in Ptolemaic Propaganda (Toronto and Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 47–58, 168–175. 85. I.Priene 1 (c.285 b.c.?) = OGI 1 (undated) = Heisserer, Alexander, 146. 86. OGI 12 (= Welles, Correspondence, no. 6). 9–10 and 17–20 (trans. Welles). 87. Welles, Correspondence, 44; Sherwin-White, “Archives,” 85. 88. Cf. Polyperchon’s promising in 319 b.c. (Diod. 18.56.1–4) a return to Alexander’s stance (proairesis).

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decree, the embassy was concerned with the “freedom” and “autonomy” of participating cities. The declaration of 311 has been considered the reaffirmation of the right of the Greeks to autonomy. However, contrary to those of 319 and 315–314, which propagated a return to the old state of things (i.e., the restoration of the “original stance” of Philip and Alexander), the declaration of 311 was a collective statement by several parties. This declaration served to contain their ambitions and to stabilize the balance of power by maintaining the status quo, with the help of the slogan of Greek freedom. It is for exactly this reason that a “precise definition of ‘freedom’ and ‘autonomy’ was avoided.” It was not simply because the Successors did not care for the “genuine independence” of Greek cities. Of course, they did not. Nor were the Successors trying to deceive anybody by such a statement. Whom did they need to deceive? The declaration of 311 had a clear practical purpose: it provided a political framework for the peace treaty of the Successors in a situation in which none of them could deter the others by laying a legitimate claim to the territory that he controlled. In the absence of such legitimate claims, the idea of the unity of Alexander’s empire was still very much alive: the treaty of 311 was dated after the regnal years of Alexander IV, which continued to be used by demotic documents in Egypt even as late as 305–304. In spite of the peace treaty of 311, therefore, the political situation remained quite unstable. Not surprisingly, this treaty—similar to the King’s Peace, its renewal (in a modified form) in 375, the Sparta Peace and the Athens Peace in 371, and the amendment suggested in 342 to the peace of Philocrates (346)—was

89. Syll. 330 (= I.Ilion 1).23–27 (c.306 b.c.). Pace Verkinderen, “Decree for Malousios,” 255–257, 268–269, who suggested the dating of this inscription to 334 b.c., and thus put it together with Strabo’s evidence about Ilium (Strabo 13.1.26, p. C 593; see p. 101, n. 197) and the inscription from Colophon published by Meritt, which Verkinderen also dated to 334 (see p. 105, n. 226), as evidence about Alexander’s policy toward Greek cities of Asia Minor. However, Ilium could well have been a special case, whereas the inscription from Colophon was dated to 311–306 by L. Robert, who has been supported by others (see ibid.). Verkinderen’s idea of dating the honorific decree for Malousios of Gargara to 334 b.c. does not seem to have received any support either: see Ph. Gauthier, in Bull.ép. 1988, no. 419, and SEG 37, 1008. 90. Cloché, “Remarques,” 112–117; Wehrli, Antigone, 117–118, 120; Will, “Succession,” 51; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 135; G. Hölbl, Geschichte des Ptolemäerreiches (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1994), 19. 91. This explanation and these two opinions: Gruen, Hellenistic World, 135. 92. P.Dem. Louvre 2427, 2440. E.g., P. W. Pestman, Chronologie égyptienne d’après les textes démotiques, 332 av. J.-C.—453 ap. J.-C. (Leiden: Brill, 1967), 13; E. S. Gruen, in The Craft of the Ancient Historian: Essays in Honor of Ch. G. Starr, ed. J. Eadie and J. Ober (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1985), 258; E. Grzybek, Du calendrier macédonien au calendrier ptolémaïque. Problèmes de chronologie hellénistique (Basel: Reinhardt, 1990), 129 n. 31; Hölbl, Geschichte des Ptolemäerreiches, 13; Huss, Ägypten in hellenistischer Zeit, 227; Errington, Hellenistic World, 45 (“until 306/5”).

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guaranteed by the pledge of its participants to preserve the autonomous status held by non-participating Greek cities at the moment when these treaties were signed. Subject cities retained the same status, irrespective of who ruled over the territory in which they lay. Therefore, similar to earlier treaties of Peace, the peace treaty of 311 neither did nor could be intended to define the actual status of individual Greek cities: the independence of Greek cities, and their freedom, was never the final aim of such declarations. They pursued immediate political purposes. Any attempt to enlarge one’s dominion by taking control of a city was interpreted as an assault on the freedom of that city, which meant that the treaty was broken and retaliation was justified. It follows, therefore, that the general slogan of freedom continued to be used as a tool of containment by offering a casus belli in the early Hellenistic period. This significance of the declaration of 311 was seen very quickly. In the following year, as Diodoros reports, Ptolemy declared war against Antigonos, after accusing him of infringing the freedom of the Greeks: “Since the agreements common to the leaders provided for preserving the freedom of Greek states, Ptolemy, the ruler of Egypt, charged Antigonos with having occupied some of the cities with garrisons, and prepared to go to war.” In return, Ptolemy first captured Cilician cities that were subject to Antigonos. He then engaged in negotiations with the cities that were controlled by Cassander and Lysimachos, trying to bring them over into his camp. This evidence also shows that some cities remained subject, despite all the declarations of Greek freedom, and that their subject status was not supposed to be changed. Nor did it really matter to Ptolemy that it had not been Antigonos, but one of his rebellious generals, who had garrisoned those Greek cities. That fact alone gave Ptolemy a casus belli, which he was eager to use. Significantly, he justified his own military assault by referring to the protection of Greek freedom and not to the terms of the peace treaty of 311. Ptolemy was acting similarly to Antigonos, who in 313 had started a military campaign against the rebellious Asander: Antigonos claimed that he was defending the freedom of Miletus, which had been threatened by Asander, and therefore was acting in line with his (Antigonos’s) own declaration of 315. In 310, the conflict, with Ptolemy and his allies on the one side, and Antigonos and his family, on the other, took the form of wresting cities from each other’s control. It seems that the use of the slogan of Greek freedom by the Successors influenced the position of Rhodes, whose stance as the protector of Greek freedom

93. Diod. 20.19.3. Smith, “Chronology,” 193, explained Ptolemy’s “mysterious declaration” of war in 310 as a response to Antigonos’s campaign against Seleucos in Babylon. 94. Diod. 20.19.4–5.

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became very prominent in the third and second centuries (see chapter 8). In the beginning, the Rhodians assumed this stance because of their immediate needs— to preserve neutrality and independence from any of the Successors. In 307, when Demetrios (fulfilling his father’s orders) summoned the Rhodians to a war against Ptolemy, the Rhodians did not obey, “preferring to maintain a common peace with all,” according to Diodoros. As some have already noted, Diodoros’s “common peace” does not necessarily refer to the treaty of 311; this expression could just as well have simply reflected Rhodes’s desire to maintain good relations with every power in the region. This is what Diodoros meant when he said that, having failed to come to an agreement with Demetrios, the Rhodians “sent envoys to Ptolemy, Lysimachos, and Cassander, begging them to give aid and saying that the city was fighting the war on their behalf.” The latter expression implied that Rhodes suffered this siege because of her refusal to join with Antigonos and Demetrios against these three. We have seen earlier that Diodoros often used the phrase “common peace” in a very liberal way, usually as a reflection of the general state of peace created by the ceasing of military hostilities. The simple use of this phrase in his text, therefore, does not allow us to regard the peace treaty of 311 as a “common peace” in its usual understanding—a peace in which all, or almost all, Greek cities participated. However, as we have already seen, this treaty did acknowledge the territories held by the Successors as their own possessions, thus giving some legitimacy to their rule. The position of the Successors was further strengthened through the murder, allegedly organized by Cassander, of Roxanê and her son from Alexander, in 310–309, according to the Marmor Parium. Diodoros describes this situation in the following words: “[F]or henceforth, there being no longer anyone to inherit the realm, each of those who had rule over nations and cities entertained hopes of royal power and held the territory that had been placed under his authority as if it were a kingdom won by spear.” The way to royal titles was thus paved: Antigonos and Demetrios accepted the royal title in 307–306, Ptolemy in 305–304, and other Successors in the same year or soon afterward.

95. Diod. 20.46.6: κοινὴν εἰρήνην αἱρουμένων ἄγειν πρὸς ἅπαντας. See also Ager, Arbitrations, no. 12. 96. E.g., Hauben, “Rhodes, Alexander,” 322–334, who traced Diodoros’s use of this phrase to Hieronymos of Cardia. Pace Ryder, Eirene, 164. 97. Diod. 20.84.1: . . . ὡς τῆς πόλεως προπολεμούσης ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν. 98. See Müller, Antigonos, 41–42, 44. 99. FGrH 239 (Marmor Parium) B, F 18; Diod. 19.105.1–4. 100. These dates: Will, Histoire, 1:62, 74–75; H. Bengtson, Die Diadochen. Die Nachfolger Alexanders: 323–281 v. Chr. (Munich: Beck, 1987), 45, 59–62. Ptolemy: FGrH 239 (Marmor Parium) B, F 23. Seleucos in 305–304: Otto, “Bedeutung,” 11–12; A. J. Sachs and D. J. Wiseman, in Iraq 16 (1954): 205–206; cf. Müller, Antigonos, 75, and Mehl, Seleukos, 147–150: 306–305 or 305–304.

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The slogan of freedom was used on several more occasions during the Successors’ lifetime. One of them occurred when Ptolemy undertook a naval expedition to Greece—his only serious attempt to contest Europe with other Successors— during which he “liberated Andros and drove out the garrison.” In Diodoros’s words, Ptolemy “planned to free the other Greek cities as well, thinking that the good will (eunoia) of the Greeks would be a great gain for him in his own undertakings.” Suda, a late text whose reliability has been questioned by some, speaks of a treaty concluded between Ptolemy and Demetrios, with the alleged purpose of freeing Greece. If we still believe Suda, Ptolemy also made a declaration of Greek freedom at the Isthmian games (308), probably setting up a precedent for subsequent similar pronouncements at these games or in nearby Corinth, which we will examine later. However, after being opposed by the Peloponnesians, Ptolemy quickly made peace with Cassander (308), which acknowledged each of them as “master of the cities that he was holding.” After that, and before departing for Egypt, Ptolemy garrisoned Sicyon and Corinth. As tools of politics, declarations of Greek freedom, therefore, did not impede Ptolemy from establishing control over individual Greek cities. Although some have doubted the reliability of Suda’s evidence on such activities of Ptolemy, its information corresponds to what we know about the politics of other Successors at that time. In 307, Demetrios was dispatched by Antigonos with “instructions to free all the cities throughout Greece, but first of all Athens that was held by a garrison of Cassander. Sailing into the Piraeus with his forces, he at once made an attack on all sides and issued a proclamation.” Diodoros does not say what proclamation was issued, but we may presume that it concerned Demetrios’s liberation of Athens. Demetrios succeeded in his siege and “restored freedom” to Athens, as well as to Megara, Chalcis, and several other cities. His father, Antigonos, furthered this policy of support for the freedom of the Greeks by withdrawing a garrison from

101. Diod. 20.37.1–2. 102. Suda s.v. Δημήτριος· Δημήτριος ὁ Ἀντιγόνου καὶ Πτολεμαˆι ος ὡμολόγησαν φιλίαν σφίσιν ἔσπονδον εἶναι ἐπ’ ἐλευθερώσει τῆς Ἑλλάδος καὶ ἐπὶ τῷ τῇ ἀλλήλω ν ἐπιμαχεˆι ν with Staatsverträge 3, no. 433 (309–308?). For opinions about the date of this treaty, see, e.g., Seibert, Untersuchungen, 180–183 (with bibliography in n. 16): 298–297 b.c., followed by Billows, Antigonos, 145 n. 18, 201 n. 32, who reject both the information of Suda altogether and attempts to connect it with what we read in Diod. 20.37.1–2 (see preceding note). 103. Suda s.v. Δημήτριος· αὐτονόμους τε δὴ τὰς πλείστας τῶν Ἑλληνίδων πόλεων ἀφίησι καὶ τὰς ᾿Ισθμιάδας σπονδὰς ἐπήγγελλε κελεύων οἷα ἐπ᾿ ἐλευθερώσει θαλλοφοροῦντας θεωρεˆι ν εἰς τὰ Ἴσθμια. ἄρας δὲ ἐντεῦθεν ἀπέπλευσεν ἐπ’ Αἰγύπτου. 104. Diod. 20.37.2. See Staatsverträge 3, no. 434 (308 b.c.). 105. Diod. 20.45.1–2, and 20.46.1–3, 20.100.6, 20.102.2, 20.103.3–4, 20.110.2–6; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 15.

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the island of Imbros, only to surrender it to the Athenians. This was obviously done for the purpose of securing their goodwill toward him. Antigonos gave the island of Lemnos to the Athenians as well. Diodoros makes it clear that the slogan of Greek freedom, which Demetrios was still advertising in 303–302, continued to be interwoven in Demetrios’s fight against Cassander. Demetrios wanted to establish order among the Greeks because he believed that “making them autonomous will bring him great honor, and at the same time he thought it necessary to wipe out Prepelaüs and other generals of Cassander, before attacking Cassander.” At the same time, Demetrios was removing his competitors’ garrisons from individual cities: that of Ptolemy from Sicyon, and those of Cassander from Corinth, Larisa Cremastê, and Pherae. In 302, when Demetrios had been recalled by his father to Asia and had to make peace with Cassander, “it was written among the conditions in the agreement that the Greek cities were to be free, not only those of Greece but also those of Asia.” “Freedom” of Greek cities in itself was not the aim of the Successors: as before, the slogan of freedom served to maintain the balance of power. The treaties concluded between Ptolemy and Demetrios (309–308?), and between Demetrios and Cassander (302), and probably the one between Ptolemy and Cassander (308) as well, reflected a new stage in the use of the slogan of Greek freedom. The mutual agreement of 311 had been buried once and for all. It would never be resurrected. As Habicht noted perceptively, Demetrios’s campaign in 307 followed Antigonos’s proclamation of 315. The treaty of 311 could not justify Demetrios’s aggression because it had recognized the possessions of the Successors. In the years following 311, therefore, the slogan of Greek freedom started to be employed in dealings between individual rulers. The importance of using this slogan remained the same, however: it still served as a framework for political settlements. Any violation of Greek freedom, which in practical terms meant breaking the political balance by occupying Greek cities in territory that belonged to another ruler, was a casus belli for that

106. IG II 1492.B, 133 (305–304 b.c.); Diod. 20.46.4. 107. IG II 550 (314–313 b.c.), 1492.B, 133 (305–304); Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 8 (303–302), with the editor’s commentary (pp. 16–17) that Lemnos was already under Athenian control in 305–304 b.c. 108. Diod. 20.102.1. Demetrios propagating Greek freedom: e.g., IG II 558.14 and 559.6–10 (c.303–302 b.c.). 109. Diod. 20.102.1–2 (Sicyon), 20.103.3, 20.110.2, 20.110.6. 110. Diod. 20.111.2 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 448. 111. Habicht, Athens, 66. On the agreement of 311 as being abandoned in 309–308, see also Errington, Hellenistic World, 43.

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ruler. This situation has several interesting implications. One of them is that although the slogan of Greek freedom was now used by individual Successors, and thus reflected the division of Alexander’s empire as an accomplished fact, the continuing use of this slogan meant that their rule still lacked legitimacy. They did not rule their territories by inheritance, nor had they won their territories militarily. Legitimacy would only come in the early third century, when the Successors left royal power to their sons, who could then claim their kingdoms as ancestral possessions. Another implication, as seen earlier, is that the slogan of freedom could be used not only for preserving the status quo but also for justifying military assaults on territories claimed by other rulers. Finally, after the treaty of 311 delimited the domains of the Successors, the latter came to use the slogan of freedom as the basis of their interrelationship with the individual cities that lay within the borders of their domains. Such cities could preserve “freedom” and other rights in return for their loyalty and goodwill to the ruler. The interrelationship between Hellenistic rulers and individual cities was supposed to have a certain organizational form. The surviving fragments of the founding document of the Hellenic League, which was set up by Antigonos and Demetrios Poliorcetes in 302, and which has generally been viewed as a restoration, or renewal, of the League of Corinth, refer to an “alliance” and to “allies,” as well as to “common war” (koinos polemos), but never to “common peace” (koine eirene). Further evidence, such as the Athenian honorific decree for Adeimantos of Lampsacus, seems to point in the same direction. References to the Antigonid League as a military alliance might serve as further proof that its prototype and 112. Seibert, Untersuchungen, 181–183, referred to this “freedom-clause” as “astonishing” and said it implied a joint action by Ptolemy and Demetrios. He therefore suspected the reliability of the evidence regarding this treaty, because no such joint action took place, and proposed dating this treaty to 298–297. But if “freedom” was declared not as the aim, but as the means to maintain political and military balance, this consideration becomes unnecessary. 113. Plut. Demetr. 25.3 (with no precise indication of the date, of course); IG IV 1.68 = SEG 1, 75 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 446 = Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 44 = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 14; see SEG 25, 381. 114. E.g., W. W. Tarn, in JHS 42 (1922): 198–206; Wilcken, Philipp II., 12, 15; U. Wilcken, Zu der epidaurischen Bundesstele vom J. 302 v. Chr. (Berlin: [Sitzungsberichte der Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 26], 1927), 298–301; P. Roussel, in Revue archéologique, 5th ser., 17 (1923): 117–140; Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 70; Hampl, Staatsverträge, 59–61; Wehrli, Antigone, 121–122, 122–126; Bengtson, Herrschergestalten, 75; Billows, Antigonos, 228–230; Rhodes, “Bund,” 742; Rhodes, History, 358; Salmon, “Corinth,” 391; Ager, Arbitrations, 66; E. Badian, “Antigonos [1, Monophthalmos],” in NPauly 1 (1996): 753; Errington, Hellenistic World, 50. 115. IG IV 1.68 = SEG 1, 75 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 446 = Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 44 = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 14; see SEG 25, 381. “Alliance” and “allies”: ibid., ll.12, 26, 40, 47–48, 130, 140–150; “koinos polemos”: ibid., ll.71, 91. Schehl, “Bund,” 118–119 saw both a “common peace” and a military alliance here. 116. Th. R. Martin, in Transitions to Empire, 179–190.

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model, Philip’s League of Corinth, was a military alliance founded within the framework of the treaty of Peace. Similar to Philip’s League, the alliance of the Antigonids consisted of individual tribes and cities, which meant that no other military alliance was allowed. Also similar to Philip’s League, that of the Antigonids claimed to protect the interests both of member states and of all Greeks in general. The latter claim was connected with the professed Antigonid stance of protecting Greek freedom, both in general (e.g., Demetrios’s war against Cassander) and with respect to the individual cities that Demetrios wrested from Cassander: Athens, Sicyon, Pherae, and Miletus. The slogan of freedom had likewise accompanied an attempt to restore the League of Corinth by Polyperchon in 319. As always, the slogan of freedom served as a convenient tool for promoting one’s own political interests, such as breaking up existing military alliances. Whereas the new League of Antigonos and Demetrios was formed as a military alliance against Ptolemy, Rhodes (which had good trade relations with Egypt) refused to participate, claiming—in the above-quoted words of Diodoros—that the Rhodians wished to maintain a “common peace” with all. Therefore, Antigonos’s slogan of freedom received an adequate response from the Rhodians in the form of the slogan of peace. As we have already seen above, “peace” and “freedom” were two sides of the same coin in the treaties of Peace from earlier in the fourth century: Greek freedom was possible only when Greece was at peace. The understanding of “freedom” changed depending on whether this peace was maintained in the form of a precarious balance between major powers or as the panhellenic domination by one power. As in his descriptions of many episodes in the history

117. W. Schwahn, Heeresmatrikel und Landfriede Philipps von Makedonien (Leipzig: Dieterich, 1930), 36, doubted the reliability of Iust. 9.4.5 (pacem amicitiamque) and Diod. 16.87.3 (φιλίαν τε καὶ συμμαχίαν) with reference to Plut. Phoc. 16.5: τοὺς Ἀθηναίους μεταμελομένους, ὅτι καὶ τριήρεις ἔδει παρέχειν τῷ Φιλίππῳ καὶ ἱππεῖς. However, Plutarch’s words do not deny the existence of an alliance between Athens and Philip. 118. IG IV 1.68 (= SEG 1, 75 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 446 = Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 44 = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 14).78: μὴ{ι} ἀποκληρούσθωσαν (councilors) δ᾿ἑνὸ[ς πλείο]υς ἐξ ἔθνους ἢ πόλεως. See Giovannini, Relations, 396: “The hegemony of Antigonos and his son was, thus, based, similar to that of Philip and Alexander the Great, on bilateral agreements and its purpose was, as with the League of Corinth, to consolidate and legitimize this hegemony.” 119. E.g., Diod. 20.46.5. 120. Diod. 20.102.1, and 20.106.1, 20.107.1, 20.110.4; Syll. 342.15–18 and 343.14 (both from 303–302 b.c.). See Wilcken, Bundesstele, 298. 121. Athens: Syll. 328 (306–305 b.c.); Sicyon: Diod. 20.102.2; Pherae: Diod. 20.110.6; Miletus: Milet I 3, 123 (313–312 b.c.). 122. Schmitt correctly put such evidence together with that of Philip’s League of Corinth: Staatsverträge 3, no. 403. 123. Diod. 20.46.4–6, incl. 20.46.6 (see n. 95 above).

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of fourth-century Greece, here Diodoros also used the expression “common peace” in a very general sense. In this case, it was the alleged desire of the Rhodians to maintain peaceful relations with every Greek state. It is possible that the Rhodian response had, indeed, contained this expression that had belonged to the Greek political lexicon for at least six decades. It is likewise possible that, reflecting on the growing political stability found at the end of the fourth century, Rhodes was beginning to ascertain its position as the protector of Greek freedom, which it would hold until the mid-second century b.c.

t he s logan of f reedom in the p ost- s uccessor p eriod After the major Hellenistic dynasties had been established and had received their much-needed legitimacy, each of them continued to use the slogan of freedom as a tool for defining the status of individual cities and for binding them in this way to the dynasty in whose territory these cities lay. The seeming elusiveness of the status of a “free city” has been reflected by persistent doubts about whether “freedom” really meant anything for the cities that found themselves in the territories of Hellenistic kingdoms. “Freedom” in fact made a difference to Greek cities. Priene and Erythrae referred to their status as that of a “free city” during Alexander’s reign. And an anecdote, preserved by Sextus Empiricus (fl. c. late second through early third century a.d.), mentions a dancer Sostratos from Priene who refused to perform the dance of “Freedom” at the court of Antiochos (the First?), so long as his city remained “enslaved” by Antiochos. The latter then “freed” Priene. The status of cities was determined by grants (or confirmations) of “freedom,” often accompanied by other “freedoms,” such as freedom from paying tribute or from being garrisoned. In one such case, Antiochos the First, or the Second, confirmed the status of Erythrae as a city that was “autonomous” and “free from tribute,” which Erythrae had supposedly enjoyed under Alexander and Antigonos. Antiochos II helped to restore “freedom” and “democracy,” that is, the laws of the city, to the people of Miletus by aiding that city in overthrowing a local

124. See chapter 8. 125. I.Priene 1 (= R&O 86.B = GHI 185 = OGI 1 = SEG 30, 1358 = Heisserer, Alexander, 145–168) and I.Erythrai 31 (= OGI 223 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 15).22–23. See pp. 97, nn. 175–176, and 101, n. 199. 126. Sext. Emp. Adv.gramm. 293. The identification of the king: Orth, Machtanspruch, 110–111. 127. Tribute: Bikerman, Institutions, 148–149; Orth, Machtanspruch, 89–90. Garrison: Bickerman, Institutions, 149. 128. I.Erythrai 31 (= OGI 223 = Welles, Correspondence, no. 15).21–28, 26–27; and I.Erythrai 30.

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tyrant, Timarchos, in the very late 260s or early 250s. According to Appian, it is because of this act of liberation that the Milesians honored Antiochos II with the cognomen Theos (“Divine”) and later presented a “holy wreath from the sanctuary” to his son, Seleucos II Callinicos (r.246–226), in recognition of benefactions of Seleucos II’s father and “ancestors.” Seleucos II himself gave “freedom,” together with freedom from tribute, to Smyrna. Although the latter privilege, which is thought to have been rare, was probably more reflective of the weakening of the Seleucid dynasty at that time, such cases show that the complex understanding of “freedom” that had developed in the course of the fourth century had survived into later times as well. Seleucos II also confirmed, and swore to preserve, the freedom and “other rights” of Mylasa. This oath would then be acknowledged as valid by Philip V, who in this way reciprocated Mylasa’s goodwill toward his father. Seleucos II’s oath to Mylasa is reminiscent of Ptolemy’s oath to Iasus, which also included both the acknowledgment and the pledge to protect the freedom and other rights of that city. In a similar fashion, Antiochos III (r.223–187) confirmed, just as his ancestors had done, the “freedom” (and “autonomy”) as well as (“other benefits”) of Teos, in return for that city’s goodwill toward him. However, in addition to defining the status of individual Greek cities, the slogan of freedom similarly continued to be used for justifying political and military actions by Hellenistic rulers. In 272, Pyrrhos of Epirus invaded Sparta with the declared objective, as Pyrrhos himself told the Spartan ambassadors (in the words of Plutarch), “to liberate the cities which were subject to Antigonos. . . . With these fictions he beguiled those who came to meet him on his march, but as soon as he reached

129. OGI 226.5–7. Cf. Holleaux, Études, 3:153 n. 1: in such cases, “democracy” was equivalent to “autonomy”; A. Heuss, in Le monde grec: pensée, littérature, histoire, documents. Hommages à Cl. Préaux, ed. J. Bingen et al. (Brussels: Editions de l’Université de Bruxelles, 1975), 411 (with further references), 413 (“die staatliche Ordnung”). 130. App. Syr. 65. Rehm, Milet I 3, p. 264; Chr. Habicht, Gottmenschentum und griechische Städte (Munich: Beck, 1970), 104. 131. OGI 227.2–6, 11–12 (246–226 b.c.). For “ancestors,” see Rostovtzeff, “Progonoi,” 56–66. 132. OGI 228 (= F.Delphes III.4, no. 153).6–9 (246 or 242 b.c.?). 133. I.Labraunda I 3.7–10 and 25–32 (c.240 b.c.?); cf. 5.33–36 and 8.14. B. Virgilio, in RÉA 103 (2001): 429–442, while examining the rôle of the kings in the relations between Mylasa and the temple of Zeus at Labraunda, and Seleucos’s confirmation of the rights of the city, including the right to the temple’s proceeds, did not discuss its connection with the confirmation of the city’s freedom, even though he noted the latter. But Mylasa received such rights together with freedom: e.g., I.Labraunda I 7.8-11. 134. I.Labraunda I 5.31-48, 6.B.2-9, 7.8-14. 135. I.Iasos 2.47–53 (see n. 80 above). 136. SEG 41, 1004.11–13, 15–20. The generally accepted date of this inscription is c.204–202; only F. Piejko and S. Şahin have supported dating this inscription to c.197–196; see p. 434, nn. 9 and 13.

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Laconian territory he began to ravage and plunder it.” Pyrrhos used the slogan of freedom not for securing a balance with his opponents but for an aggression on behalf of those Greeks who had allegedly been deprived of their freedom. It is also possible that the slogan of Greek freedom was used by Ptolemy II at the beginning of the Chremonidean war (c.267–261): an Athenian decree concerning the treaty between Athens and Sparta refers to Ptolemy II as being zealous about the “common freedom of the Greeks,” so that he allegedly acted “in accordance with the policy of his ancestors and his sister.” Ptolemy’s motives for taking part in this war have been debated. The above-mentioned Athenian decree speaks of defending the freedom of Greek cities and fighting against those who broke their treaties with them. Ptolemy might have used the old Greek slogan of freedom as an attempt to thwart the rapprochement between Macedonia and the Seleucids, which threatened the political stability of the entire Greek world. At base, therefore, this was the same old approach: the slogan of freedom served to break down military alliances. Further evidence regarding the use of the slogan of freedom in the postSuccessor period concerns the Hellenic League, or the Symmachy, of Antigonos Doson. He either founded it anew or refounded it in c.223, depending on whether one takes into consideration the differences that have been noted in the organization and composition of the Corinthian League of Philip II and Doson’s Symmachy, respectively. Similar to that of Philip II, Doson’s Symmachy was formed of Leagues, or koina, and, like Philip, Doson was elected the commander in chief of his allies. Polybios’s interpretation of this arrangement as a “common peace” 137. Plut. Pyrrh. 26.10. 138. Syll. 434/435 (= Staatsverträge 3, no. 476).16–18 (see n. 26 above); Heinen, Untersuchungen, 122–123, 133; Walbank, “Macedonia,” 236. 139. A summary of opinions: Walbank, “Macedonia,” 237. 140. Syll. 434/435 (= Staatsverträge 3, no. 476).12–13, 31–33 (see n. 26 above). 141. E.g., M. Cary, A History of the Greek World from 323 to 146 b.c. (London: Methuen; New York: Barnes & Noble, 1951), 163. The date: S. Le Bohec, Antigone Dôsôn, roi de Macédoine (Nancy: Presses universitaires de Nancy, 1993), 385 (224 b.c.); D. Vollmer, Symploke. Das Übergreifen der römischen Expansion auf den griechischen Osten. Untersuchungen zur römischen Aussenpolitik am Ende des 3. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1990), 92 n. 26 (223–222); E. Badian, “Antigonos Doson,” in NPauly 1 (1996): 755; K. Scherberich, Koinè symmachia. Untersuchungen zum Hellenenbund Antigonos’ III. Doson und Philipps V. (224-197 v.Chr.) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2009), 15-16 (the autumn of 224). 142. Polyb. 4.8.4: symmachia (the Achaeans, the Epirotes, the Phocians, the Macedonians, the Boeotians, the Acarnanians, the Thessalians); cf. IG IV 1.68 = SEG 1, 75 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 446 = Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 44 = Ager, Arbitrations, no. 14 (see n. 118 above) and Polyb. 2.54.4: κατασταθεὶς ἡγεμὼν ἁπάντων τῶν συμμάχων. For a comparison between the positions of Philip II and Antigonos Doson, see also Appendix 5. Errington, Hellenistic World, 101, opposed the Hellenic League of Philip II and Alexander III as having been composed of “a large number of city states” to that of Antigonos Doson, which “was limited to representatives of much larger regional units.” But the two systems were quite compatible: the participation of individual cities could be organized according to their regional affiliation. Cf., e.g., Alexander’s request for military levies from “the Achaeans, Arcadians, Boetoians, and the rest” in Hyperid. 5.18 (see p. 80, n. 80).

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has been accepted. But such a reference could have merely been a reflection of the generally peaceful situation in Greece at that time, as in previously mentioned words of Andocides with respect to the late 390s or the words of Diodoros. The slogan of freedom should have been high on the agenda of Doson’s Symmachy: we know that the declaration of Philip V’s Symmachy, which Philip inherited from Doson, proclaimed the freedom of the Greeks (see below), and that, while addressing the Spartans in 211–210, the Acarnanian Lyciscos claimed that Doson and his Symmachy defeated King Cleomenes in 222 to free Sparta from a tyrant. Under the slogan of freedom, Doson and the Achaeans restored their “ancestral constitution” to the Spartans after the battle of Sellasia (222). Philip V probably used the slogan of Greek freedom from the very beginning of his reign (221–179), whether because, as Polybios noted, “it may be said of all kings that at the beginnings of their reigns they talk of freedom as of a gift they offer to all,” or because Philip was following the policy of Antigonos Doson, or for more than one reason. Philip mustered broad support for his war against the Aetolians. In 220, his Symmachy, which was then his military alliance of Greek states against the Aetolians, issued a declaration—again in Corinth (one can hardly doubt that he chose that place deliberately)—accusing the Aetolian League of depriving Greek communities of their freedom and promising to recover their former status. Polybios says that the Symmachy “subjoined a declaration that they would recover for the allies any city or land occupied by the Aetolians since the death of Demetrios, father of Philip , . . . and they pledged themselves that they should be reinstated in their ancient form of government, and should remain in possession of their cities and lands, without garrisons, exempt from tribute, and completely free, in the enjoyment of their traditional constitutions and laws.” Using the councils of the Greeks as officially adopting decisions of the leaders had been an established practice: official declarations by the synedrion of the League of Corinth validated Alexander’s decision to demolish the city of Thebes and Antipater’s resolve to put down the Spartan revolt. Here, too, the practical

143. Polyb. 4.3.8. See F. W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957–1979), 1:452; Schmitt, ad Staatsverträge 3, no. 507, pp. 213 and 216, and Scherberich, Koinè symmachia, 102, who distinguished between this reference and the evidence for the koine eirene (in its usual understanding) in the fourth century. 144. Andoc. 3.17, 28, 34 (see p. 57, n. 283); Diod. 15.38.2–4, 15.51.1, 15.70.2 (see pp. 57–58, nn. 286, 290, 291). 145. The declaration; Polyb. 4.25.6–7 (see n. 148 below). Lyciscos: Polyb. 9.36.3-4. 146. Tegea: Polyb. 2.70.4. Sparta in general: Paus. 2.9.2; Plut. Cleom. 30.1. 147. Polyb. 15.24.4; E. S. Gruen, in Ancient Macedonian Studies in Honor of Ch. F. Edson (Thessaloniki: Institute for Balkan Studies, 1981), 169–182. 148. Polyb. 4.25.6–7. 149. Diod. 17.14.1, 17.73.5.

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purpose of Philip’s declaration—to subvert Aetolian control over certain territories in Greece, such as Phocis—can hardly be doubted. Some think, therefore, that it was Philip V who pushed the Romans to use the slogan of Greek freedom. The adherents to this theory consider the Symmachy’s declaration to have been a model, if not a blueprint, for Flamininus’s subsequent pronouncement. However, the declaration of Flamininus was of a different nature from the one authored by Philip V in 220: Philip’s Corinthian declaration, quite similar to that of Polyperchon, offered a return to the previous state of things and, therefore, a political change, whereas Flamininus’s declaration claimed to maintain the status quo by offering to protect the freedom of those Greek cities that already held it at that time, including those that had just obtained it from the Romans. The slogan of freedom, therefore, received a different application and a different interpretation in each case, for the reason that the two declarations had different purposes: that of the Symmachy appeared during the war as a justification of Philip’s aggression, whereas Flamininus’s declaration was issued as part of a post-war settlement. Important questions therefore remain: Why did the Romans use the slogan of freedom in 196, and how was this step connected with diplomatic traditions and practices of the Greeks? The following three chapters will attempt to answer these questions. The remaining relevant evidence about the use of the slogan of freedom in the post-Successor period concerns Antiochos III (r.223–187) and comes from the time before the Romans deprived him of control over Asia Minor in 188. Antiochos is known to have “restored” freedom and laws to the people of Iasus and to have pledged to preserve them for the future, in return for this city’s friendship and alliance. In a similar fashion, Antiochos pledged to protect the “autonomy” and “freedom” of Lysimachea, which he had refounded and repopulated, in return for that city’s pledge to maintain a friendship and alliance with himself and his descendants. While the attribution of the latter inscription to Antiochos’s

150. G. A. Lehmann, “Elateia, Aitolien und Rom nach der Entscheidung des 2. Makedonischen Krieges,” ZPE 127 (1999): 71. 151. Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 23–31; Crawford, Republic, 64–67; P. S. Derow, “Philhellenism,” in OCD, 1160. 152. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 45–49, 83–88, and J.-L. Ferrary, “Traités et domination romaine dans le monde hellénique,” in I Trattati nel mondo antico: Forma, ideologia, funzione, ed. L. Canfora et al. (Rome: Bretschneider, 1990), 221; Walsh, “Propaganda,” 358; A. M. Eckstein, “Polybius, the Achaeans, and the ‘Freedom of the Greeks,’” GRBS 31 (1990): 66–67. 153. For Antiochos’s use of the slogan of freedom during his war against the Romans, see chapter 6 below. 154. I.Iasos 4.I and II (both from c.195–193 b.c.). 155. ZPE 17 (1975), 101 = I.Ilion 45.

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dealings with Lysimachea has been questioned, and it does not speak about “freedom,” the tenor and the content of this inscription reflect the general principles of the relationship between Hellenistic kings and the Greek cities that lay in their territories: these cities reciprocated the grants of the kings, including the grants of “freedom,” by pledges of loyalty and military support. Antiochos may have undertaken this policy (which had become traditional for Hellenistic rulers long before the coming of the Romans) prior to the declaration of Greek freedom by Flamininus in 196 (see next chapter), if the above-mentioned inscription containing his grants to Teos is dated to c.204–202. If one accepts the dissenting view of dating this inscription to c.197–196, it becomes tempting to interpret Antiochos’s grants to Teos as his response to the declaration of Flamininus. As we shall see, however, not much has been preserved about Antiochos’s policy of Greek freedom either before or during his conflict with the Romans, probably because history is written by the victors.

c onclusion The death of Alexander caused the political fragmentation of his empire. The borders of the regions controlled by Alexander’s Successors were neither clearly defined nor (at times) reasonably justified. Therefore, the Successors tried both to safeguard what they had and to enlarge their territories at the same time. The supreme position formally belonged to the regent of the kings, who also posed as the protector of Greek freedom. This task had been assigned to Antipater by Alexander, when the King set off on his campaign to Asia. Protecting Greek freedom meant securing political stability in Greece by undermining military alliances and dealing with Greek city-states on an individual basis. This is what Antipater did, by crushing the revolt of Sparta and her allies in 331 and, after the death of Alexander, supporting Boeotian cities against the resurrected might of Thebes.

156. E.g., Ma, Antiochos, 266–267. 157. SEG 41, 1004.11–13, 15–20 (see n. 136 above). 158. Arr. 7.12.4 (see p. 93, n. 154). 159. Sparta: Diod. 17.62–63. Boeotian cities: Hyperid. 6.11; Diod. 18.11.3–4; Paus. 1.25.4; cf. Diod. 9.54.1: Cassander rebuilt Thebes in 316–315, first, obviously as part of his struggle against Polyperchon and then against Antigonos. D. Knoepfler, in Recherches récentes sur le monde hellénistique: Actes du colloque international organisé à l’occasion du 60e anniversaire de Pierre Ducrey (Lausanne, 20–21 novembre 1998), ed. R. Frei-Stolba and K. Gex (Bern: Lang, 2001), 11 (316–315), 11–12, explained the restoration of Thebes by the “philhellenic propaganda,” which was practiced by all the Successors, and dated the reintegration of Thebes into the Boeotian Federation to a significantly later moment, namely, the earlier half of the 280s.

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This situation was possible because of the Macedonian Peace, which had been both inherited and furthered by Alexander. This Peace embraced all states then in Greece (with the exception of Sparta) and, seemingly, all those Greek states that Alexander delivered from Persian control in Asia, as demonstrated by the evidence of the competition between the Macedonian Peace and the King’s Peace in Mytilene and Tenedus. The position of the protector of Greek freedom became especially important after Alexander passed away, when this position was occupied by Antipater (after the death of Perdiccas), Polyperchon (from 319), and Antigonos (from 316–315 or 315–314), in succession. Not surprisingly, as soon as Polyperchon (in 319) and Antigonos (in 315) attained this position, they each issued a declaration of Greek freedom. Antigonos obviously ignored the interests of the Macedonian throne; he was using the slogan of freedom in the interests of himself and his son. The two declarations were quite similar in essence, however: the slogan of freedom was employed to undermine the military alliance of Cassander. Since Ptolemy (I) did not have the same status, his declaration of Greek freedom, which was issued in 314 in response to Antigonos’s declaration, neither did nor could have the same effect. A parallel development consisted of the attempts by military leaders of the late fourth century to build their military alliances. Hence, we find, among other things, Cassander’s resurrection of Thebes in 316–315 and (what has been claimed to be) the restoration of the Hellenic League by Antigonos and Demetrios. The state of general uncertainty had somewhat subsided by 311, when the most important of the Successors signed a treaty acknowledging each other’s territorial possessions. In the absence of any means to legitimize their claims to these territories, however, they also issued a joint declaration of Greek freedom, which served to thwart future aggressions. Their pledges to protect the freedom of Greek cities aimed to protect the territories in which these cities lay. While conflicts among the Successors continued, again in the name of Greek freedom, the territorial limits of Hellenistic kingdoms became more or less stabilized. The murder of Roxanê and her son allowed the Successors to assume royal titles. Finally, once the next generation of rulers came to power, in the first quarter of the third century, they could legitimately claim to rule these kingdoms by right of succession. Thus there was no longer a need for the general slogan of freedom. At the same time, the Successors were also establishing permanent relationships with the Greek cities that lay in their territories. Such evidence begins to emerge after the treaty of 311 and, as expected, grows in the third century. “Freedom” (as well as other rights and privileges) was used to determine the status of 160. E.g., Arr. 2.1.4 and 2.2.2 (see p. 93, n. 151).

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individual cities in return for their political loyalty to the king. Therefore, as the political situation settled, Hellenistic rulers dealt with the Greek cities within their domains according to the principles that had guided Alexander’s treatment of Greek cities within his empire. Honorific decrees by Greek cities for Hellenistic rulers show that the relations between cities and rulers were based on reciprocal obligations. The ruler’s personal stance was to correspond to that of his ancestors. This conformity became particularly visible at the moment of succession, when the new monarch confirmed the status of the city, including its freedom, and those privileges that had been given, or acknowledged, by his predecessors. Such confirmations were usually accompanied by the ruler’s pledge to maintain a similarly benevolent stance in the future, provided the city did not fail to support him and his dynasty. The city, obviously, pledged to remain loyal to the ruler, as it had been to his ancestor(s). Therefore, by the time of the coming of the Romans, the Greek slogan of freedom had acquired three major forms. In a situation of political instability it was used as a general slogan to help maintain the political status quo, when pledges were made to protect the freedom of the cities within a territory that could be claimed by someone else. Once stability had been established, the slogan of freedom was also employed as the basic principle of the relationship between the ruler and the individual cities that lay within the borders of his domain: freedom, as a component of the city’s status (which usually included other rights and privileges), was given in return for loyalty to the sovereign and his dynasty. Finally, throughout, the slogan of freedom was used as a pretext for aggression, aimed at undermining existing borders and at breaking down the established political order and stability, all in the name of restoring or protecting the freedom of the Greeks, of course.

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p art t wo Early Roman Politics in Greece

i historians generally remember the Roman patrician, senator, and general Titus Quinctius Flamininus for two reasons: his victory over the Macedonian king Philip V in the famous battle at Cynoscephalae in Thessaly in 197, and his declaration of Greek freedom, pronounced at the Isthmian games near Corinth in the following year. Titus was not the only Roman general to defeat a Hellenistic monarch; it is his declaration that has attracted the most attention from ancient and modern authors. This declaration has been considered the best display of a new Roman policy toward the Greeks. Prior to that, during a brief interlude to the Greco-Roman interrelationship, which lasted from the First Illyrian (229) to the Second Macedonian war (200–197), the relations between Rome and the Greeks

1. Polyb. 18.12.5. For Flamininus’s early career and campaign against Philip: Liv. 29–30; Plut. Flam. 1.3–8.5; E. Badian, in JRS 61 (1971): 108–110; A. M. Eckstein, “T. Quinctius Flamininus and the Campaign against Philip in 198 b.c.,” Phoenix 30 (1976): 119–126. 2. These achievements reflected the interests of Roman and Greek historiography, respectively: R. Pfeilschifter, Titus Quinctius Flamininus: Untersuchungen zur römischen Griechenlandpolitik (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005), 13–14. 3. The historiographical review in Badian, Titus Quinctius Flamininus: Philhellenism and Realpolitik, Lectures in Memory of L. Taft Semple, 2nd ser. (Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1970), 4–27, is still the best work of this kind, albeit outdated by now. See also Gundel, “Flamininus,” 1047–1100; Walsh, “Propaganda,” 344 n. 2; L.-M. Günther, “Titus Quinctius Flamininus: Griechenfreund aus Gefuhl oder Kalkül?” in Von Romulus zu Augustus: Große Gestalten der römischen Republik, ed. K.-J. Hölkeskamp and E. Stein-Hölkeskamp (Munich: Beck, 2000), 120–130; L.-M. Günther, “[I 14] T. Q. Flamininus,” in NPauly 10 (2001): 709–711.

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were significantly different. Flamininus’s declaration of freedom, therefore, has allowed some to speak about several distinct periods in the relations between Rome and the Greeks during the late third century and second century. Opinions still differ as to why the Romans adopted the slogan of Greek freedom and how the use of this slogan contributed to the overall Roman policy in Greece. Continuing disagreements on this and several other important attributes of early Roman politics in Greece justify the following reexamination of the corresponding evidence and historiography.

4 Rome and the Greeks from 229 to the Declaration of Flamininus

i The Romans came to Greek lands in 229 b.c., when they were chasing Illyrian pirates out of the Adriatic Sea and were also protecting their new allies in the eastern Adriatic against the oppression of the Illyrian king Agron, his wife and successor, Teuta, and other less significant local dynasts. The aggressive policy of the Romans toward the local population at the time is best demonstrated by the treaty they concluded with the Aetolians in 211, about which we know from several references in literary works and from an inscription that is thought to have been a copy of the text of the treaty. The question of the date of this

4. See E. Badian, Studies in Greek and Roman History (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1964), 1–10; R. M. Errington, “Rome and Greece to 205 b.c.”, in CAH 8 (1989): 85–90. Did the Romans have alliances with the Greeks who lived across the Adriatic Sea at that time? Relying on an inscription from Stari Grad (on the island of Hvar), P. Derow (ZPE 88 [1991]: 261–273) asserted the existence of an alliance between Rome and Pharos at the end of the First Illyrian war, even though L. Robert, the first editor of this inscription, had rejected such a possibility. Derow also believed (267–270) that other cities of the region (Corcyra, Apollonis, Issa, Epidamnus) were Roman allies already in the late third century. However, A. M. Eckstein, in CP 94 (1999): 395–418, has challenged this view, arguing, among other things, for a possible redating of this inscription to the 150s (see also 396–397 for a useful summary of opinions); but cf. a different interpretation in A. M. Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East: From Anarchy to Hierarchy in the Hellenistic Mediterranean, 230–170 b.c. (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 45–46. 5. G. Klaffenbach, Der Römisch-Ätolische Bündnisvertrag vom Jahre 212 v. Chr. (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1954), 9–10 = IG IX.1 241 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 536; and SEG 13, 382; Polyb. 9.39.3, 18.38.8–9, 21.32.13.

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treaty—212, or 211, or “212 or 211,” or “212/211”—is not directly relevant to the current examination, which adheres to 211 as the more established opinion. This treaty provided for the division of spoils, with the Aetolians getting all the captured cities and the Romans retaining movable property (accounts conflict as to how, exactly, the status of the cities was to be determined). The immediate result of this treaty was that the Romans sacked and pillaged Zacynthus, Oeniadae, Nasus, Anticyra, Aegina, Oreum, and a few other places in Greece. The surviving inhabitants of Anticyra and Aegina were sold by the Romans as slaves. In accordance with the treaty, after despoiling these cities, the Romans gave them to the Aetolians, who were free to deal with them as they pleased. The outrages committed by the Romans at that time would be remembered decades later. Publius Sulpicius Galba Maximus (cos. 211), who was then the Roman military commander in the region, became notorious among the Greeks for his cruelty. Roman behavior in Greece was similar to that elsewhere in the late third century. The Roman capture of Morgantina in Sicily (211), Tarentum in Italy (209), and Carthago Nova in Spain (209) was likewise accompanied by massacres and pillaging.

6. A. Heuss, “Amicitia: Untersuchungen zu den rechtlichen Grundlagen der römischen Aussenpolitik” (diss., Gräfenhainichen: Schulze, 1933), 37–39; R. Stiehl, “Der Vertrag zwischen Romern und Aitolern vom Jahre 212 v. Chr.,” Untersuchungen zur römischen Geschichte 1 (1961): 155; R. G. Hopital, “Le traité romano-aetolien de 212 avant J.-C.,” Revue historique de droit français et étranger 42 (1964): 22–25; G. A. Lehmann, Untersuchungen zur historischen Glaubwürdigkeit des Polybios (Münster: Aschendorff, 1967), 27–35; Lehmann, “Elateia,” 76, 78; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 190–191. 7. A. H. McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, JRS 46 (1956): 157; E. Badian, in Latomus 17 (1958): 197–198; E. Badian, review of Lehmann, Untersuchungen, HZ 208 (1969): 639–640; S. Accame, Roma alla conquista del Mediterraneo orientale (Naples: Liberia scientifica, 1966), 81, 212, 214; J. Muylle, “Le traité d’amitié entre Rome e la ligue étolienne,” AC 38 (1969): 427; Walbank, Commentary, 2:11–13; D. W. Baronowski, “Treaties of Military Alliance between Rome and Hellenistic States in the Last Three Centuries b.c.” (Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 1982), 169; F. Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie dal mondo greco a Roma in età repubblicana (Rome: Istituto italiano per la storia antica, 1997), 10–12; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 74–75. 8. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 17, 18, 377; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 24, 26, 49. 9. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 69–72; J. D. Grainger, The League of the Aitolians (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 1999), 306–310, relying exclusively on Livy; J. B. Scholten, The Politics of Plunder: Aetolians and Their Koinon in the Early Hellenistic Era, 279–217 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2000), 230–231. 10. See McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 153–157, and a further discussion in chapter 7 below. 11. The first three: Liv. 26.24.15. Anticyra: Polyb. 9.39.2, Liv. 26.26.3; Aegina: Polyb. 9.42.5–8, 22.8.9–10; Oreum: Polyb. 11.5.8; Liv. 31.46.9–16. See also Chalcis: Liv. 31.23; Andros: Liv. 31.45.1–7; and J. W. Rich, “Roman Aims in the First Macedonian War,” PCPS, n.s., 30 (1984): 133, 135. 12. E.g., App. Mac. 7. 13. E.g., F. Münzer, “Sulpicius (Galba), no. 64,” in RE 4 A.1 (1931): 802–808; T. Schmitt, “S. Galba Maximus, P.,” in NPauly 11 (2001): 1099. 14. Polyb. 10.15.4–8; Liv. 27.15–16. P. Wuilleumier, Tarente, des origines à la conquête romaine (Paris: De Boccard, 1939), 161–167.

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The Greek politicians, therefore, had the corresponding attitude toward the Romans. The peace between Philip V and the Aetolians in the so-called Allied war (220–217) was mediated by the Rhodians, with the help of the Chians. Their mediation was based on the same idea that Greek affairs were to be settled by the Greeks, thus leaving no place for Rome. The “pacifistic activity” (as in Holleaux) of Rhodes also displayed itself when Rhodes made another attempt at reconciling the Aetolians and Philip V in a series of negotiations that lasted from 209 to 206. Although the Aetolians were then allies of the Romans, Rhodes, and other mediators from among the Greeks, ignored Rome and tried to broker peace between only the Aetolians and Philip V. Both danger to the freedom of the Greeks and the threat from the Romans were even more pronounced this time: the continuing conflicts among the Greeks were making them all slaves to the Romans, as was emphasized by Greek representatives at the negotiations between Philip and the Aetolians, which took place in 209 (Phalara and Aegium), 208 (Elatea), and 207 (Heraclea). There does not seem to be enough evidence to present these negotiations as aiming at a “comprehensive peace,” that is, one that would comprise the Romans as well. The information that we do have about these negotiations, including the speeches of the mediators, shows that the peace between Philip and the Aetolians was supposed to establish the “safety of the Greeks” by expressly denying the Romans an opportunity to interfere in Greek affairs. What Appian says about the conference in 207 is that whereas the envoys convened to discuss the differences between the Romans, the Aetolians, and Philip, there was no expressed intention to include the Romans in the projected peace treaty, and the Roman envoy Sulpicius was shouted down by the crowd. The Romans were seen as a threat to peace among the Greeks and, therefore, to Greek freedom. The latter conference is particularly remarkable because of a speech by one of the ambassadors, who has traditionally been identified with the Rhodian

15. E.g., Polyb. 5.24.11, 5.29.1–2, 5.100.9. M. Holleaux, Rome, la Grèce et les monarchies hellénistiques au IIIe siècle avant J.-C. (Paris: De Boccard, 1935), 36–37; Ager, Arbitrations, no. 53. 16. Liv. 27.30.10. 17. See Holleaux, Rome, 35–36, followed by Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 77, 92 (and n. 56 with a list of bibliographic references), 102, 193. The rôle of Rhodes at the negotiations in 209–206: A. M. Eckstein, “Greek Mediation in the First Macedonian War, 209–205 b.c.,” Historia 51 (2002): 292–293. 18. Polyb. 10.25.2–5, Liv. 27.30.5, 10–14. J. Deininger, Der politische Widerstand gegen Rom in Griechenland: 217–86 v.Chr. (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1971), 29–31. 19. Liv. 28.7.13–15. A. M. Eckstein, “Rome, the War with Perseus, and Third Party Mediation,” Historia 37 (1988): 418 n. 22; Eckstein, “Mediation,” 276–281. 20. An overview: Eckstein, “Mediation,” 268–297. 21. E.g., Rich, “Aims,” 145–146; Ager, Arbitrations, 159; Eckstein, “Mediation,” 269. 22. App. Mac. 3.

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Thrasicrates. In a very forceful presentation, the orator told his audience that peace had to be restored not only for the sake of the belligerents but for the benefit of all Greeks; that the war between Philip and the Aetolians would lead to the enslavement of Greece to the Romans, who interfered on the pretext of helping the Aetolians but with the real aim of conquering Greek lands; and that the war should be stopped for the sake of the “freedom” (eleutheria) and “safety” (soteria) of the Greeks. Similar speeches are known to have been given by the Aetolian Agelaos, at Naupactus at the end of the Allied war in 217, and by the Acarnanian Lyciscos in 211 or 210. The same intertwining of these two ideas would be reinforced later, as we shall see, by Antiochos III at the conference at Lysimachea (autumn 196), when he suggested that his conflict with Lampsacus and Smyrna should be mediated not by Rome but by Rhodes; by the Aetolians, when Flamininus convened the Greeks to set them up against Nabis at the conference at Corinth (spring 195); and, in a more refined fashion, by the Rhodians, at the conference at Rome (189), after the defeat of Antiochos III. At this conference the Rhodians, referring to the fact that Rome had been fighting Antiochos for the freedom of the Greeks, urged the Romans to remain consistent and to let the Greeks have the freedom to set up their own affairs. The move to keep the control of Greek affairs with the Greeks was, once again, connected with the slogan of Greek freedom. Because these speeches come to us mostly from Polybios, there is, therefore, a question about whether we can rely on them. In particular, Otto Mørkholm argued against the authenticity of Agelaos’s speech by referring to (i) the prominence of the theme of Roman danger in this speech (and the absence of any reference to the Carthaginians, who were then fighting as equals against the Romans), and (ii) the

23. Polyb. 11.4–6; App. Mac. 3.1 and 4.1. The identification with Thrasicrates: K. H. Ullrich, “De Polybii Fontibus Rhodiis” (diss., Leipzig: Teubner, 1898), 33–34; Holleaux, Rome, 36; M. Gelzer, “Die Achaica im Geschichtswerk des Polybios,” in M. Gelzer, Kleine Schriften, vol. 3 (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1964), 141; Deininger, Widerstand, 32–34; H.-U. Wiemer, Rhodische Traditionen in der hellenistischen Historiographie (Frankfurt am Main: Clauss, 2001), 49–58; H.-U. Wiemer, Krieg, Handel und Piraterie: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des hellenistischen Rhodes (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2002), 271; Ager, Arbitrations, 160 n. 6; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 108–109, 116, 193 (following Holleaux here as well). Reservations as to the identitity of the speaker: F. W. Walbank, “Political Morality and the Friends of Scipio,” JRS 55 (1965): 2 = F. W. Walbank, Selected Papers: Studies in Greek and Roman History and Historiography (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 160; C. B. Champion, “Romans as Barbaroi: Three Polybian Speeches and the Politics of Cultural Interdeterminancy,” CP 95 (2000): 425, 433; C. B. Champion, Cultural Politics in Polybius’ Histories (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2004), 56 (with n. 87), 236. The date of this speech (summer of 207): B. Dreyer, Die römische Nobilitätsherrschaft und Antiochos III. (205 bis 188 v. Chr.). (Hennef: Clauss, 2007), 131 n. 161. 24. Polyb. 5.103.9–5.104.11. Gelzer, “Achaica,” 139–140; Deininger, Widerstand, 25–29; F. W. Walbank, in GRBS 5 (1964): 239–240. 25. Polyb. 9.32.1–9.39.7 with Deininger, Widerstand, 29–31 (29 n. 1 for the date). 26. 196: Polyb. 18.52.3; App. Syr. 3. 195: Liv. 34.23.11. 189: Polyb. 21.19.5, 21.23.7–12.

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“great fidelity” with which this speech “reflects the secret consultations between Demetrios of Pharos and Philip at the reception of the news concerning the Roman defeat at Lake Trasimene about a month earlier.” However, the first of these arguments has already been questioned. Polybios’s references to “barbarian invaders,” “the greatness of the war in the west,” and “clouds that loom in the west to settle on Greece” could have applied equally to both the Romans and the Carthaginians. Additionally, it was the Romans who were operating militarily in Greece, not the Carthaginians. The second argument of Mørkholm derived from his opinion that Philip’s plan to cooperate with Carthage was kept secret from the Greeks, whereas the speech of Agelaos (in Polybios’s rendition) refers to their cooperation as something well known. But it was not hard for the Greek politicians to see what Philip’s next step would be, after the Romans had been defeated at Lake Trasimene. Neither of these arguments allows us, therefore, to dismiss this speech as a later fabrication of Polybios or as “some clever forgery” that Polybios happened to use. It is also difficult to follow Mørkholm’s conclusion that the speech of Agelaos “cannot be used as historical evidence for the beginning of Greek resistance to Rome already in 217 b.c.” The speech of Agelaos hardly reflects any “resistance to Rome”: similar to such speeches from the late third century, it promoted the idea of Greek freedom, which was based both on peace among the Greeks and on their unity against non-Greeks, including the Romans. Neither Mommsen nor more recent authors had any reservations about the authenticity of Agelaos’s speech and its content.

27. O. Mørkholm, “The Speech of Agelaus at Naupactus 217 b.c.,” C&M 28 (1967): 248–250. So also Vollmer, Symploke, 154, and Errington, Hellenistic World, 187 (“The speech is not authentic, the foresight attributed to Agelaos has its origin in Polybios’ hindsight, and Polybios’ hindsight was conditioned by Roman fearful dreaming”). However, this speech focused not on (the Roman attitude to) a prospect of cooperation between Philip V and Hannibal but on the need of all the Greeks to unite, which was both an established thought for the Greeks (for whom the Romans, the Carthaginians, and the Macedonians were all “barbarians”) and an alien idea for the Romans. 28. E.g., J. Deininger, “Bemerkungen zur Historizität der Rede des Agelaos 217 v.Chr. (Polyb. 5.104),” Chiron 3 (1973): 105–106. 29. Polyb. 5.104.1–2, 10. As Holleaux, Études, 4:42 n. 1; B. Dreyer, “Die Thrasykrates-Rede bei Polybios (11, 4–6) und die Bezeichnung der ‘Opfer’ im römisch-aitolischen Vertrag von 212 v. Chr.,” ZPE 140 (2002): 36; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 127; Champion, Cultural Politics, 55. 30. Th. Mommsen, Gesammelte Schriften (Berlin: Weidmann, 1906), 4:51; Deininger, “Bemerkungen,” 106–108; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 78. 31. So Mørkholm, “The Speech of Agelaus,” 252 (without elaborating on the purpose of this “forgery”). 32. O. Mørkholm, “The Speech of Agelaus Again,” Chiron 4 (1974): 132. 33. Th. Mommsen, Römische Geschichte (Berlin: Weidmann, 1903), 1:624 (“der nationale Patriotismus”); G. W. Bowersock, review of Deininger, Widerstand, Gnomon 45 (1973): 576; P. S. Derow, “The Arrival of Rome: From the Illyrian Wars to the Fall of Macedon,” in A Companion to the Hellenistic World, ed. A. Erskine (Oxford and Malden: Blackwell, 2003), 56.

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In a similar fashion, Mørkholm did not find support in his references to Paul Pédech’s still-monumental work: on page 265, Pédech discussed not Agelaos’s speech but those of the Aetolian Chlaenias and the Acarnanian Lyciscos, both quite famous in their own right. The same two speeches were examined by Pédech on pages 268–269 (again, without any references to Agelaos). He mentioned Agelaos’s speech on the preceding page (264) but, as he did elsewhere in his book when referencing this speech, Pédech raised no doubts that its content reflected the contemporary attitudes of the Greeks. He obviously fitted Agelaos’s speech into Polybios’s plan of “universal history”—it was there at the council of Naupactus that Polybios began his “universal history,” with the aim of tracing the reasons for and the ways of the establishment of Roman rule over the Greek world (as well as other territories). Pédech, of course, made known certain reservations concerning Polybios’s choice of words and style for this speech, noting, in general, Polybios’s possible “personal touch” on some of the speeches in his text. However, such observations do not deny the authenticity of this speech or the main traits of its content, as we have it. More recently, this debate has been revitalized by Edmond Lévy and Craige Champion. Lévy ended up agreeing with the old idea that Polybios had summed up in his own words what was said by Agelaos in 217. Champion did not provide a broader historical and political context for the speech of Agelaos, by treating it separately from all other speeches delivered for the same purpose at the end of the third century, because, in Champion’s opinion, the conference at Naupactus “marked a change in world history in the mind of [Polybios].” Still, the view that the speech of Agelaos and other such speeches were “documents of panhellenic resistance to Rome” can be held as only partially true. All these speeches promoted the interests of all Greeks in common and, therefore, denied any non-Greek power the right to interfere into Greek affairs, regardless of whether it was the Romans or someone else. The “panhellenic aspect” of these speeches

34. Mørkholm, “The Speech of Agelaus,” 249 n. 4; P. Pédech, La méthode historique de Polybe (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1964), 102, 260, 280–282, 295–296. 35. Pédech, La méthode, 506; Walbank, Papers, 313–324. 36. E.g., Pédech, La méthode, 260, 269, 276. Pace Vollmer, Symploke, 96–107, who concluded his overview of this debate with the not so surprising acknowledgment that Agelaos’s speech played an important rôle in Polybios’s concept of symploke (on this, see also Champion’s articles: n. 38 below), which, quite unexpectedly, led Vollmer to doubt the authenticity of this speech (154). 37. E. Lévy, “Le discours d’Agélaos de Naupacte,” in Federazioni e federalismo, 36–37, 50. 38. C. Champion, in TAPA 127 (1997): 112–117; C. B. Champion, “Empire by Invitation: Greek Political Strategies and Roman Imperial Interventions in the Second Century B.C.E.,” TAPA 137 (2007): 267. 39. As Mørkholm, “The Speech of Agelaus Again,” 132; Deininger, Widerstand, 29, 32, 38.

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reemphasized the old idea of a connection between peace among the Greeks and the freedom of all the Greeks, which had developed long before the coming of the Romans: we can put all three speeches together as a reflection of the separation of the Greeks from all the rest (including the Romans) and as claiming Greek affairs only for the Greeks. Hence, the speeches that we see in Polybios, even if reflective of his writing style and presented with the help of his own words, were totally in line with the basic principles of Greek political philosophy of the late third century. In particular, as displays of panhellenism, these speeches can be, and already have been, put together with the attempt by Magnesia on the Maeander to establish the panhellenic festival of Artemis Leukophryene in the late third century. The situation, however, started to change quite soon. In what we usually refer to as the Second Macedonian war (200–197), the Romans began to solicit the support of the Greeks for the Roman side by refraining from pillaging and marauding the locals, and by both publicly declaring their good intentions and using the Greek language. From the late third century, philhellenism, or the “love of all things Greek,” was turning many Roman nobles into patrons, and even disciples, of learned Greeks who were now flocking to Rome in increasing numbers. Such evidence becomes more and more visible in the course of the second century. Prominent Romans excelled in Greek, became engaged in collecting Greek works of art and literature, and openly professed their admiration for the Greek style of life. The famous victor in the war against Hannibal (and, by the way, the plunderer of Carthago Nova), P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus Maior, exercised in the gymnasium of Tarentum and walked around in Greek clothes. His son made a name for himself by publishing a historical work in

40. As Deininger, Widerstand, 23–37, incl. 28: “ein panhellenische Solidarität.” 41. Pédech, La méthode, 260, 269, 276; Deininger, Widerstand, 26–27; Mørkholm, “The Speech of Agelaus,” 240. 42. See Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 141, 161; Walbank, Papers, 257. 43. I.Magnesia 16 with the magisterial review by P. S. Derow of Deininger, Widerstand, Phoenix 26 (1972): 305. 44. E.g., Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 33. 45. Among the most important recent works dealing with this subject: E. Rawson, in CAH 8 (1989): 434–435; E. S. Gruen, Studies in Greek Culture and Roman Policy (Leiden and New York: Brill, 1990), 79–123; R. MacMullen, “Hellenizing the Romans (2nd Century b.c.),” Historia 40 (1991): 419–438; and J.-M. David, La République romaine de la deuxième guerre punique à la bataille d’Actium: 218–31 (Paris: Édition de Seuil, 2000), 77–89. 46. Polyb. 31.24.7; A. Momigliano, Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), 20–21; Derow, “Philhellenism,” 1159–1160; Champion, Cultural Politics, 205–207.

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Greek. Q. Fabius Maximus transported a colossal statue of Heracles from Tarentum, strictly in order to establish it on the Capitoline Hill. C. Sulpicius Gallus, who probably served under Aemilius Paullus in Spain and then in Liguria early in the second century, was known for his studies of Greek texts. Tiberius Gracchus (cos. 177 and 163), the father of the two famous tribunes Tiberius and Gaius, made a speech in Greek before the Rhodians during one of his two embassies to the east, probably that of 165. At about that time, Aemilius Paullus appropriated the royal library of Pella and requested that the Athenians send him their most esteemed philosopher to educate his children, whereas a couple of decades later P. Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus Africanus recited Homer’s Iliad while watching Carthage being consumed by flames. A devotee of Homer, on hearing about the death of Tiberius Gracchus, he is also said to have quoted from The Odyssey (1.47): “So perish all who do the like again.” The appeal of Greek culture was so overpowering that even Cato, a pillar of old Roman virtues, succumbed to modern fashion: he learned the language of the Greeks well enough to make references to their works and, if we believe the stories about him, listened avidly to Greek philosophers in Tarentum. Some have already clarified the appointment of Flamininus to lead the Roman army in Greece with reference to his earlier contacts with the Greeks in southern Italy. For the present discussion, it is irrelevant exactly how Flamininus obtained the supreme command position in the Roman war against Philip. Still we can probably explain some of Flamininus’s unprecedented diplomatic success in Epirus by looking at his earlier command in Tarentum, the city that had requested the help of two Epirote kings in the past: Alexander the Molossian (late in the fourth

47. Africanus: Cic. Brut. 77. He visited Delphi (SEG 1, 144) and Delos, either in 193: Holleaux, Études, 5:200–205, or in 189: W. Dittenberger, Syll. 617. His son: W. Suerbaum, in Handbuch der lateinischen Literatur der Antike, vol. 1, ed. W. Suerbaum (Munich: Beck, 2002), 374–375. Maximus: Plut. Fab. 22.8. Gallus: Cic. Brut. 78 with J. Briscoe, in OCD, 1455; Lyd. De ost. 9. Gracchus: Cic. Brut. 79; Polyb. 30.27 with E. Badian, “Sempronius (RE 53) Gracchus (2), Tiberius,” in OCD, 1384. On the Romans speaking fluent Greek: Momigliano, Wisdom, 18–19. 48. Plut. Aem. 28.11 with P. Grimal, Le siècle des Scipions: Rome et l’hellénisme au temps des guerres puniques (Paris: Aubier, 1975), 251–254. His request: Plin. NH 35.135. 49. Polyb. 38.21–22 = App. Pun. 132. Plut. Ti.Gracch. 21.4. 50. Cic. De senect. 37–42 with A. E. Astin, Cato the Censor (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1978), 5, 160; J. G. F. Powell, Cicero Cato Maior De Senectute (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 182–184, 274–275. 51. E.g., Eckstein, “Flamininus,” 120–126; R. Schulz, Herrschaft und Regierung: Roms Regiment in den Provinzen in der Zeit der Republik (Padeborn: Schöningh, 1997), 63; pace Gruen, Hellenistic World, 207–208. 52. See esp. J. Briscoe, “Livy and Senatorial Politics, 200–167 b.c.: The Evidence of the Fourth and Fifth Decades,” in ANRW II 30.2 (1982): 1086.

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century) and Pyrrhos (early in the third century). Plutarch marks Flamininus’s good reputation, when the latter was the garrison commander in Tarentum, both “in administering justice” (i.e., among the Greeks) and “in the field” (i.e., among the Romans), which should have been contrasted, favorably for Flamininus, with the earlier harsh treatment of Tarentum by the Romans. Having defeated Philip V, Flamininus offered dedications in Greek to the sanctuary of Apollo in Delphi and also proclaimed himself to be of Trojan descent. The historical connection between Rome and Troy, certainly a component of the Roman propaganda at the time, was also reflected in the works of contemporary Roman sympathizers from among the Greeks. It was in early 196, when Roman philhellenism was well under way, that the ten commissioners elected from among the senators brought the senatus consultum to Greece, setting up the terms of peace after Philip V had been defeated by Flamininus. The senatus consultum included a clause about the freedom of all the Greeks, as we know from the following three main sources: (i) Polybios: “All the rest of the Greeks, both in Asia and in Europe, were to be free and subjected to their own laws, Philip was to surrender to the Romans before the Isthmian games those Greeks subject to his rule and the cities in which he had garrisons; he was to leave free, withdrawing his garrisons from them, the towns of Euromus, Pedasa, Bargylia, and Iasus, as well as Abydus, Thasos, Myrina, and Perinthus”; (ii) Appian: “[T]he senate decreed that all the Greek cities that had been under Philip’s rule should be free, and that he should withdraw his garrisons from them before the next celebration of the Isthmian games”; and (iii) Diodoros: “Flamininus replied

53. The importance of Flamininus’s command in Tarentum for his understanding of Greek realities: E. Rawson, Roman Culture and Society: Collected Papers (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 238. On Tarentum and Epirus: e.g., N. G. L. Hammond, Epirus: The Geography, the Ancient Remains, the History and the Topography of Epirus and Adjacent Areas (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), 569–570; P. Cabanes, L’Épire de la mort de Pyrrhos a la conquête romaine: 272–167 av. J.-C. (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1976), 100, 530; R. Werner, in Zu Alexander d. Gr. Festschrift G. Wirth zum 60. Geburtstag am 9.12.86, ed. W. Will (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1987), 1:339, 346, 352–353. 54. Plut. Flam. 1.4. Cf. Liv. 27.16.6–9; Plut. Fab. 22.4–6; pace Gruen, Hellenistic World, 208, and Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 280 n. 24: on Flamininus’s command as corresponding to the earlier Roman treatment of Tarentum. 55. Plut. Flam. 12.11–12. See also B. Tisé, Imperialismo romano e imitatio Alexandri: Due studi di storia politica (Galatina [Lecce]: Mario Congedo Editore, 2002), 23–42, on Flamininus’s supposed imitation of Alexander the Great. 56. E.g., Lycophr. 1226–1280 and 1439–1450, dated to the 190s by K. Ziegler, “Lykophron (8),” in RE 13.2 (1927): 2316–2318, with P. M. Fraser, “Lycophron (2),” in OCD, 896; B. Zimmermann, “Lykophron [4],” in NPauly 7 (1999): 569. See, in general, E. Weber, in Wiener Studien, n.s., 6 (1972): 213–225. 57. For the general background: e.g., P. S. Derow, “Rome and the Greek World from the Earliest Contacts to the End of the First Illyrian War” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1970); R. M. Errington, “Rome and Greece to 205 b.c.”, in CAH 8 (1989): 81–106.

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that he himself was under orders from the senate to liberate Greece, the whole of it, not merely a part.” At the Isthmian games, in April or May 196, Flamininus made his famous declaration through a herald, for which The Histories of Polybios is our main source: “The senate of Rome and Titus Quinctius the proconsul having overcome King Philip and the Macedonians, leave the following peoples free, without garrisons and subject to no tribute and governed by their countries’ laws—the Corinthians, Phocians, Locrians, Euboeans, Phthiotic Achaeans, Magnesians, Thessalians, and Perrhaebians,” and “by a single proclamation all the Greeks inhabiting Asia and Europe became free, ungarrisoned, subject to no tribute and governed by their own laws.” Not surprisingly, therefore, some have interpreted the senatus consultum and the subsequent declaration of Greek freedom as resulting from the philhellenism in Rome, in general, and of Flamininus in particular. Others, however, have disconnected philhellenism from Roman politics (including that of Flamininus) and, thus, rejected the idea of political philhellenism. Irrespective of such interpretations, the declaration of 196 is thought to have opened a special period in the interrelationship between Rome and the Greeks, which would last until the Roman destruction of Corinth in 146. The most important event that took place during this time was the Roman victory over Perseus, the last Antigonid ruler of Macedonia, at Pydna in 168. Some have considered this victory as a watershed in

58. Polyb. 18.44.2; App. Mac. 9.3; Diod. 28.11. 59. K. Schneider, “Isthmia,” in RE 9.2 (1916): 2249; P. A. Gallivan, in Hermes 101 (1973): 232; N. J. Richardson, in OCD, 772. In a calendar year, the Isthmian games preceded the other three major panhellenic games: Dem. 18.91. 60. Polyb. 18.46.5 (ἀφιᾶσιν ἐλευθέρους, ἀφρουρήτους, ἀφορολογήτους, νόμοις χρωμένους τοˆι ς πατρίοις) and 18.46.15 (ὥστε διὰ κηρύγματος ἑνὸς ἅπαντος καὶ τοὺς τὴν Ἀσίαν κατοικοῦντες Ἕλληνας καὶ τοὺς τὴν Εὐρώπην ἐλευθέρους, ἀφρουρήτους, ἀφορολογήτους γενέσθαι, νόμοις χρωμένοις τοˆι ς ἰδίοις). Other sources belong to later times: Liv. 33.32.5, 33.33.7; Plut. Flam. 10.4; App. Mac. 9.4; Val. Max. 4.8.5 (see n. 135 below). 61. Mommsen, Geschichte, 1:709–710; J. Vogt, “Divide et impera,” in Das Reich. Idee und Gestalt. Festschrift für Johannes Haller zu seinem 75. Geburtstag, ed. H. Dannenbauer and F. Ernst (Stuttgart: Gotta’sche Buchhandlung, 1940), 28; H. E. Stier, Roms Aufstieg zur Weltmacht und die griechische Welt (Cologne: Westdeutscher, 1957), 135; H. E. Stier, in Studium Berolinense, ed. H. Leussink et al. (Berlin: Gruyter, 1960), 622–624; Gundel, “Flamininus,” 1073; Accame, Roma, 232; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 34. 62. Badian, Flamininus, 33–34; Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 37; W. V. Harris, War and Imperialism in Republican Rome, 327–70 b.c. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 244; R. M. Errington, The Dawn of Empire: Rome’s Rise to World Power (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1972), 223; R. M. Errington, “Philhellenismus und praktische Politik,” in Rezeption und Identität: Die kulturelle Auseinandersetzung Roms mit Griechenland als europäisches Paradigma, ed. G. Vogt-Spira et al. (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999), 152–154; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 14–15. 63. J. A. O. Larsen, “Was Greece Free between 196 and 146 b.c.?” CP 30 (1935): 193–214; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 287.

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Greco-Roman relations, thus distinguishing the period from the Roman victory over Antiochos in 189 to the Roman victory over Perseus in 168, largely in connection with the new Roman philosophy of nova sapientia. This expression comes to us from Livy’s discourse that “the older men” did not approve of “the new and over-sly wisdom” of the senatorial ambassadors Q. Marcius and A. Atilius, who had deceived Perseus “by the truce and the hope of peace.” An attempt by Walbank to trace this information to Polybios’s text has not been a success: there is no indication that Polybios provided that sort of evidence, whereas Diodoros shows that while some senators welcomed Philippus’s solution, others were indignant because “it did not become Romans to ape the Phoenicians, nor to get the better of their enemies by knavery rather than bravery,” hardly indicating a change for a new policy. Still a lot has been made of this expression, and of the episode as a whole, in the last fifty years. This evidence is hardly worth such attention, however: glorifying the Roman mos maiorum reflected the growing involvement of Rome with other civilizations, which made it necessary for the Romans to construct their own “identity,” to use a fashionable modern concept. A connection established between sapientia and the mos maiorum has demonstrated that nova sapientia was something that deviated from the established moral norms. Hence, too, the Roman effort, which became particularly prominent in the second century, to create a retrospective vision of Roman foreign policy as traditionally selfless, disinterested, and based on high moral principles. Certainly, similar to Roman “philhellenism,” the nova sapientia was not something that could divide the

64. J. Briscoe, “Q. Marcius Philippus and Nova Sapientia,” JRS 54 (1964): 66–77; J. P. V. D. Balsdon, “T. Quinctius Flamininus,” Phoenix 21 (1967): 190; E. Gabba, “Aspetti culturali dell’imperialismo romano,” Athenaeum, n.s., 55 (1977): 71; see also Mommsen, Geschichte, 1:776; K.-E. Petzold, “Die Freiheit der Griechen und die Politik der nova sapientia,” Historia 48 (1999): 61–93; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 381–382. 65. Liv. 42.47.1, 9. Walbank, Papers, 161, 167, 181 n. 1, with reference to “Livy [P] XLII.47.4–9” and Diod. 30.7.1. 66. Esp. G. Zecchini, “Polybios zwischen metus hostilis und nova sapientia,” Klio 10 (1995): 219–232, and also W. Reiter, Aemilius Paullus: Conqueror of Greece (London and New York: Croom Helm, 1988), 74–75, 80–81. 67. G. Luck, “Zur Geschichte des Begriffs ‘sapientia,’” Archiv für Begriffsgeschichte 9 (1964): 212–213. 68. E.g., R. Pfeilschifter, in Mos Maiorum: Untersuchungen zu den Formen der Identitätsstiftung und Stabilisierung in der römischen Republik, ed. B. Linke and M. Stemmler (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2000), 112; G. Calboli, “Introduzione,” in Marci Porci Catonis Oratio pro Rhodiensibus: Catone, l’Oriente greco e gli imprenditori romani, ed. G. Calboli (Bologna: Pàtron, 2003), 108–109, 125, on Cato’s defense of the Rhodians (see chapter 8) as a form of the conflict between nova sapientia and mores antiqui. 69. E.g., Harris, War, 269 (and passim).

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senate. Others, therefore, spoke of the entire period from 189 to 167 as crucial in the transformation of a Roman approach to Greek freedom. In their opinion, the battle at Pydna only gave the final shape to the already changing policy of Rome toward the Greeks, largely because no one remained to challenge Roman supremacy in Greece. Another reason for this change in Roman attitude (subsidiary to the first, rather than of an independent value) was that the Romans, being allegedly tired of dealing with so many political entities in Greece, were not able to provide a balanced response to the Greeks’ conflicting interests. The next period in Greco-Roman relations is thought to have begun in 168, when Roman policy has been characterized as a much more cynical manipulation of Greek interests. The idea of a change in the Roman stance toward the Greeks after the final demise of the Macedonian kingdom, which some trace to Polybios’s own view, has raised few objections. Adrian N. Sherwin-White chose the year 168 as a starting point for his analysis of Roman foreign policy in the East, setting up this terminus post quem in accordance with the “attitude of Rome to the Greek kingdoms.” Peter S. Derow, in the most recent edition of the Cambridge Ancient History, referred to the Roman victory at Pydna as the beginning of “the end of Greek freedom.” The most visible consequences of this new policy were the suppressed revolt of the Macedonians in 150–148, which was followed by the organization of Macedonia as a province, and the similarly unsuccessful revolt of the Achaean League, with the subsequent destruction of Corinth in 146. Some have characterized this last as the end of Greek freedom. In the same year, the

70. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 534–535; Zecchini, “Polybios,” 223–224. Philhellenism: Badian, Flamininus, 33–34. 71. E.g., Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 158–186. 72. Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 206; Badian, Clientelae, 96–97, 113–115; P. S. Derow, “Polybius, Rome, and the East,” JRS 69 (1979): 4–5; Walbank, Hellenistic World, 98–99, 239; Crawford, Republic, 87–88. 73. Badian, Clientelae, 96–97. 74. Bengtson, Geschichte, 491; Will, Histoire, 2:238–239; Errington, Dawn, 229–256; F. W. Walbank, “Polybius between Greece and Rome,” in Polybe: Neuf exposés suivis de discussions, ed. E. Gabba (Geneva: Hardt, 1974), 21; Klose, Ordnung, 201; Gabba, “Aspetti culturali,” 70; Reiter, Paullus, 76, 84; Petzold, “Freiheit,” 61–93. 75. A. M. Eckstein, Moral Vision in The Histories of Polybius (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995), 229–230, 234. 76. As Gruen, Hellenistic World, 514–519: on the continuity of Roman politics in Greece after the battle of Pydna. 77. A. N. Sherwin-White, Roman Foreign Policy in the East: 168 b.c. to A.D. 1 (London: Duckworth, 1984), 1–2; P. S. Derow, “Rome, the Fall of Macedon and the Sack of Corinth,” in CAH 8 (1989): 303–323; Errington, “Philhellenismus,” 152–153; Badian, Clientelae, 100, 110–111. 78. Macedonia: Kallet-Marx, Hegemony, 11–41; R. M. Errington, “Makedonia, Makedones,” in NPauly 7 (1999): 732. Corinth: Polyb. 39.2–39.3.3. 79. E.g., Cary, History, 203–205; Bowersock, review of Deininger, Widerstand, 577, 580. Cf. E. Gabba, “La nascita dell’idea di Roma nel mondo greco,” Rivista storica italiana 109 (1997): 434.

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destruction of Carthage marked the establishment of Roman domination over the majority of the Mediterranean. The fall of Corinth should have carried a symbolic meaning for the Greeks. It was at Corinth that the Romans were first invited to participate in the Isthmian games (228), even though the historical significance of this event, including the problem of what extending the invitation to the Roman envoys to join in the Isthmian games actually meant in the relationship between the Greeks and the Romans, has been debated. Corinth, Chalcis, and Demetrias were known as “the three fetters” of Greece during the time they were occupied by Philip; and the Roman allies in Greece believed that only when Philip withdrew his garrisons from these cities would the Greeks be free. Finally, it was at the Isthmian games near Corinth that Flamininus made his declaration of Greek freedom in 196, only fifty years before the city would be destroyed by the Romans. What rôle did Flamininus’s declarations play in this general picture of several periods in the Greco-Roman relations, before the foundation of Roman provinces in Greece? Walbank has already noted that there was no administrative need for a public statement like that of Flamininus, since conditions for a future settlement had been laid down in the treaty between Rome and Philip, as well as in the senatus consultum. We do not know much about the actual content of the Roman treaty with Philip. Polybios is thought to have described the outcome of the war by referring to the text of the senatus consultum, not of the treaty, whereas Larsen and Ferrary suggested that Livy used not the senatus consultum but the terms of the treaty itself, albeit as a summary. Both pointed to Livy’s phrase: quorum ex consilio pax data Philippo in has leges est. However, these words could refer to the senatus consultum as approved by the people, which should have contained the same provisions as the treaty itself. At any rate, it is unlikely that the senatus consultum that followed and approved the signing of the treaty would have altered the text of this treaty in any significant way. According to

80. Polyb. 2.12.8. 81. Holleaux, Études, 4:43; Bengtson, Geschichte, 423; Petzold, Eröffnung, 26–29; Vollmer, Symploke, 65–66. 82. The “three fetters”: Polyb. 18.11.4–7, 13. The establishment of Macedonian control over these three places has been traced to the reign of Antigonos Gonatas: e.g., W. W. Tarn, Antigonos Gonatas (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 286, 289; Errington, Hellenistic World, 80, 83. 83. F. W. Walbank, Philip V of Macedon (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1940), 179–181; F. W. Walbank, “Alcaeus of Messene, Philip V, and Rome,” CQ 37 (1943): 8; Walbank, Commentary, 2:614; Errington, “Philhellenismus,” 152–153. 84. For the problems of the status of Lampsacus and the lists of the adscripti, see next chapter. 85. Polyb. 18.44.1–2; Liv. 33.30.1–2 with Walbank, Commentary, 2:610; J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy Books XXXI–XXXIII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973), 304; Holleaux, Études, 4:318–319. 86. J. A. O. Larsen, “The Treaty of Pace at the Conclusion of the Second Macedonian War,” CP 31 (1936): 342–348; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 138 n. 23. Liv. 33.30.1.

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Polybios and Appian, the senatus consultum set the next Isthmian games as the deadline for Philip’s evacuation of Greek cities, which the Romans then presented as their liberation of the Greeks. It would not be surprising if Flamininus’s declaration at the Isthmian games of 196 had been planned in advance as well. It is also unlikely that Flamininus’s declaration differed in any meaningful way from the senatus consultum. Some have concluded, therefore, that the declaration of Flamininus was issued because of immediate political reasons: in 197 another Hellenistic monarch, Antiochos III—following the defeat of Philip and clearly expecting to use it for his own ends—was advancing to the western shores of Asia Minor. He claimed these were his ancestral possessions. He wintered in Ephesus and began establishing his control over Asian cities in early 196. It was in the late spring of 196 that Flamininus made his declaration, which has thus been interpreted as another piece of Roman political propaganda in the face of Antiochos’s advance. Yet, as we have seen above, the majority opinion has held the declaration of Flamininus to be the most visible display of a new Roman policy toward the Greeks. But how can the declaration, which was only a propaganda maneuver with tactical aims, mark a whole period in Roman foreign politics? The opinion that Flamininus’s declaration was merely a political maneuver can be countered on several grounds. First of all, if we accept this declaration as Roman support for Greek freedom, its immediate political benefits for Rome were far outweighed by her commitment to protect Greek freedom—or, in practical terms, to respect the status of all free Greek cities—in the future. This would have been too heavy a burden for Flamininus, and for the Roman policy in general. Why should the Romans tie their hands by such a statement, even in the face of Antiochos’s approach?

87. Polyb. 18.44.2–4; App. Mac. 9.3 (see n. 58 above). 88. Opinions on the date of his advance: Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 135. His plans prior to 196: H. W. Rawlings III, “Antiochus the Great and Rhodes: 197–191 b.c.,” AJAH 1 (1976): 2–9, 21–22. 89. Polyb. 18.41a.2; Liv. 33.38.1. Also App. Syr. 1. 90. Holleaux, Études, 5:366; Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 277; Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 53–54; Magie, Rule, 104–105; Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 36; Bengtson, Geschichte, 477, 482; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 39; T. Yoshimura, “Zum römischen Libertas-Begriff in der Aussenpolitik im zweiten Jahrhundert von Chr.,” AJAH 9 (1984 [1990]): 12–13; Quass, Honoratiorenschicht, 125; Walbank, Hellenistic World, 98; Walsh, “Propaganda,” 344, 358, 362–363; Crawford, Republic, 70; Petzold, “Einfluss,” 230, 234, 242; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 211; Gabba, “La nascita dell’idea di Roma,” 434; Ager, Arbitrations, 213; H. Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms: Von Pyrrhoskrieg bis zum Fall von Karthago (280–146 v.Chr.) (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1997), 330–331; E. S. Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Roman Republic, ed. H. I. Flower (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 249; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 245–246, 286–287. 91. See Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 38, 50–51; Walsh, “Propaganda,” 357.

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Second, the declaration of Flamininus can hardly be presented as an example of his, or Roman, philhellenism. The latter had no decisive influence either on Roman politics or on the mode of behavior of Roman generals versus their Greek adversaries. Hence, Roman philhellenism would survive the fall of Macedonia and the destruction of Corinth, thus revealing that cultural and political loyalties were remarkably distinct. Prior to those events, Claudius Marcellus and Aemilius Paullus, older and younger contemporaries of Flamininus, adopted harsh measures toward the Greeks despite being known as enthusiasts of Hellenic learning and literature. Such attitudes are hardly surprising: as a cultural phenomenon, philhellenism did not bring any political commitments. There is no need to connect Flamininus’s declaration with his personal, or general Roman, philhellenism, especially when one remembers that this declaration essentially repeated the senatus consultum that had been issued a few months earlier. In a similar fashion, the Greek attitude toward the Romans continued to be ambivalent, all the declarations notwithstanding. The epigram of Alcaeos—in which he compared Flamininus with Xerxes as leaders of foreign armies that came to Greece, but opposed the second as coming to subjugate Greece to Flamininus who arrived to liberate it—was most likely a response to those Greeks who considered Flamininus and the Romans as just another group of foreign invaders. Such views were justified by Roman brutality, which is well documented in Greece before and after 196. In the latter period, Flamininus gave his consent for the murder of Brachylles, an influential Boeotian general, causing outrage among the Boeotians. After they killed about five hundred Roman soldiers, Flamininus had to send two Roman armies against them, which devastated local territory and terrorized its inhabitants, making them plead for mercy. Aemilius Paullus, no

92. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 250–260; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 589–615; A. Henrichs, in HSCP 97 (1995): 243–261. 93. Plut. Marcell. 1.2 and Plut. Aem. 29.2–5; Liv. 45.34.1–6, with S. C. Swain, in JRS 110 (1990): 131–132, 140–142 (Marcellus), 132–133 (Aemilius). For further such information (including evidence on Roman philhellenism in connection with Rome’s relations with Greeks in southern Italy), see earlier in this chapter. 94. Esp. Badian, Flamininus, 33–34. 95. Anth.Pal. 16.5 and Walbank, “Alcaeus,” 9 n. 9, with D. Kuijper, “De Alcaeo Messenio unius carminis bis retractatore,” in Studi classici in onore di Quintino Catandella ([Catania:] Università di Catania, Facoltà di lettere e filosofia, 1972), 255 (suggesting that “Xerxes” referred to Antiochos the Great); Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 86; Grandjean, Messéniens, 82 (with the date in either 196 or 193), and S. Accame, in RFIC, n.s., 75 (1947): 101–103, on alleged pro-Aetolian stance in this epigram; however, Roman-Aetolian relations were not as good at that time. Cf. Plut. Flam. 11.3–7, which likely went back to contemporary Roman propaganda: Walbank, “Alcaeus,” 145; Deininger, Widerstand, 66–108. Cf. Syll. 434 (266 b.c.) with Errington, Hellenistic World, 89: on Antigonos Gonatas as paralleled with Xerxes—both were presented as barbarians trying to oppress the Greeks. Many Greeks most likely viewed the Romans (including Flamininus) from the same perspective. 96. Polyb. 18.43; Liv. 33.28–33.29.10; Deininger, Widerstand, 54–58. For this event, see below.

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less a philhellene than Flamininus, saw nothing wrong with sacking seventy cities of Epirus and selling more than one hundred and fifty thousand people into slavery in 167, in response to what the Romans considered the withholding of political loyalty to Rome by the Epirotes. The threat of Roman intervention thus remained an important factor in Greek politics, even after Flamininus issued his declaration in 196. Finally, the declaration of Flamininus appears to have had no effect on the status of individual cities in Greece. The ten commissioners, who brought the senatus consultum to Greece, were empowered, together with Flamininus, to set the affairs of Greek cities in order after Philip’s control over Greece had been removed. It was up to them and to Flamininus to determine the status of each city. Immediately after the pronouncement of Greek freedom at the Isthmian games, the Ten decided to hand over several Greek communities to the control of various political powers, even including monarchs. According to Polybios, “[T]hey gave Corinth, Triphylia, and Heraclea to the Achaeans, and most members were in favor of giving Oreum and Eretria to Eumenes. However, Flamininus having addressed the board on that subject, the proposal was not ratified, so that after a short time these towns were set free by the senate as well as Carystus. To Pleuratus they gave Lychnis and Parthus, which were Illyrian but subject to Philip, and they allowed Amynander all the forts he had wrestled from Philip in war.” Livy, relying on Valerius Antias, adds that “the island of Aegina and the elephants were presented as a gift to Attalos, that the Rhodians were given Stratonicea and other cities in Caria which Philip had held, and the Athenians the islands of Paros, Imbros, Delos, and Scyros.” The commissioners appear not to have been concerned with the fact that in 198, Flamininus, then the consul, promised to restore Corinth to the Achaeans. It was only Flamininus’s personal interference, and certainly his desire to keep his word, that allowed the Achaeans eventually to obtain Corinth. Comparably, the Euboean cities of Oreum and Carystus, which the commissioners wanted to give over to Eumenes, received their freedom after Flamininus’s personal appeal, and

97. Polyb. 30.16; Liv. 45.28.6–7, 45.31.1–2, 45.34.1–6; Plin. NH 4.39 (with reference to Macedonia); Strabo 7.7.3, p. C 322; Plut. Aem. 29.2–5. Deininger, Widerstand, 202–204; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 531–565. 98. E.g., Derow, “Fall,” 290–303; Champion, Cultural Politics, 52, 54. Cf., e.g., the activities of the praetor C. Lucretius, who robbed temples and sold people as slaves in the Third Macedonian war, thus behaving “with arrogance, greed, and cruelty”: Liv. 43.7.8 (superbe, avare, crudeliter), 10 (170–169 b.c.). 99. Polyb. 18.42.5; Syll. 591 (= IGR IV 179).69–70: καὶ τοὺς δέκα τοὺς ἐ[πὶ τῶν (τῆς) Ἑλλάδος πραγμάτω]ν. 100. Polyb. 18.47.10–13; Liv. 33.30.10–11. 101. Polyb. 18.45.12, 18.47.10; Liv. 32.19.4.

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only by decision of the senate. In a similar display of authoritarian behavior, the commissioners decided that the Phthiotian Achaeans should join the Thessalian League, while the Phocians and Locrians had to join the Aetolian League. At the conference at Nicaea in 198, that is to say, even before his victory over Philip, Flamininus promised to return to Ptolemy V those Greek cities that Philip had taken from Egypt after the death of Ptolemy IV Philopator (204 or 203). Athenian territories that had been taken by Philip were kept by the Romans for some time, even though Livy claims they were returned immediately after the war against Philip was over. The Romans likewise established their control over the two remaining “fetters,” Demetrias and Chalcis, “until the anxiety about Antiochos should have passed.” It was not until three years later that Flamininus personally led garrisons from both places, and only when the Roman army was withdrawing entirely from Greece in 194. It is hard to explain the original Roman occupation of the “fetters” only by the growing menace from Antiochos and by the corresponding desire of the Romans to protect the freedom of Greece, since they evacuated the “fetters” after three years, despite the continuing uncertainty in Rome’s relations with Antiochos. It appears that had the Roman army stayed in Greece in 194, the Romans would have controlled the “fetters” as before. Anyway, the fact remains that after they issued what has generally been considered a universal declaration of Greek freedom, the Romans not only left the Macedonians under Philip’s rule and distributed many Greek communities into the control of various political powers and reorganized “constitutions” of many more, but also retained several cities, including two of the “fetters.” This did not look like freedom, all modern passionate repudiations notwithstanding. In this situation it does not really matter here if the Romans had

102. Polyb. 18.47.10–11; Liv. 33.34.10. 103. Polyb. 18.47.7, Liv. 33.34.7; Polyb. 18.47.9, Liv. 33.34.8. 104. Polyb. 18.1.14; Liv. 32.33.4; Holleaux, Études, 4:316–320; Crawford, Republic, 66 n. 1. The restoration of the Ptolemaic possessions as part of the Roman ultimatum to Philip V in 200: Polyb. 16.34.3–4. See next chapter. 105. Liv. 33.30.10. See Holleaux, Études, 5:107–108, with reference to Polyb. 30.20.7. 106. Liv. 33.31.11 and 34.51.1–4, respectively. 107. As Will, Histoire, 2:144; Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 35, 39; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 38–39; R. Seager, “The Freedom of the Greeks of Asia: From Alexander to Antiochus,” CQ, n.s., 31 (1981): 110. Cf. the skepticism of Badian, Flamininus, 55–56, and Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 98. 108. Macedonia: Iust. 30.4.17; “constitutions”: Gundel, “Flamininus,” 1074–1075, 1081. 109. Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 39: “Die Tatsache, dass Rom hier Anordnungen trifft, einzelne Städte Staaten und vorhandenen Städtebünden zuteilt, andere zu neuen Bünden zusammenschliesst, kann von Fanatikern schon als Durchbrechung des Freiheitsprinzips gedeutet werden.” But did the Romans have any “Freiheitsprinzip” at all?

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decided on the “ultimate evacuation” of Greece in advance. The idea of the Roman evacuation of Greece was probably already in the air, at least after the battle of Cynoscephalae: the Roman commissioners, who returned to Rome in early 195, pointed to the danger of Nabis once the Roman forces were withdrawn from Greece. It could well be that the Romans came to Greece with the plan of evacuating it after their victory over Philip in place, that is, as they had done in the two Illyrian wars. In this case, the idea of the evacuation did not come from Flamininus. But, irrespective of the plans of the Romans (if they had any), once they had defeated Philip, they both used the rhetoric of freedom and continued to control Greece for several more years. The accusations of the Aetolians, that Rome held the two “fetters” by using the “empty slogan of freedom,” probably reflected the opinion of at least some of the Greeks. In response to the claim of the Romans that they were fighting for Greek freedom, the Macedonians remembered that in 200, Rome’s intervention in Sicily had resulted in the enslavement of Greek cities there. And Minnio, one of Antiochos’s envoys to the negotiations of 193, accused the Romans of using “the plausible pretext of liberating Greek states”: ‘specioso titulo’ inquit ‘uti vos, Romani, Graecarum civitatium liberandarum video.’ If Plutarch’s information that all the “fetters” were freed by the Romans soon after the defeat of Philip came from an “annalistic” account, this might demonstrate that the Romans themselves felt uncomfortable with the obvious contradiction between their words and deeds. It is possible, therefore, that the Romans presented the evacuation of the “fetters” as complying with their declared intention to give freedom to the Greeks—of all the places in Greece where the evidence for honors to Flamininus survived, two are the “fetters”: Chalcis and Corinth. Other

110. As Badian, Clientelae, 73 n. 3; Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 334. Pace Will, Histoire, 2:145; Eckstein, “Polybius, the Achaeans,” 49–50; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 98; Errington, Hellenistic World, 211. Cf. Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 291–292, 318, who seems to have combined both opinions, by pointing out that the Roman evacuation of Greece repeated a well-established pattern (the Illyrian wars, the First Macedonian war), but the decision for the evacuation (which he termed as “a very short-sighted”) was adopted only after the Roman defeat of Philip. 111. Polyb. 18.36.3–5; 18.43.6; Liv. 33.24.5 and 33.44.8–9. For Rome’s relations with Nabis, see chapter 6 below. 112. See Badian, Studies, 10–11, 18. 113. As K. S. Sacks, in JHS 95 (1975): 102–103, and Grainger, League, 424; pace Seager, “Freedom,” 109: as a result of Greek pressure. Interestingly, all these opinions have relied on the same speech of Amynander (Liv. 33.12.2). 114. Liv. 34.23.8 (195 b.c.). 115. Seager, “Freedom,” 108; Liv. 35.16.2; cf. 34.41.5–6. 116. Cf. Plut. Flam. 10: before the declaration of 196, with Carawan, “Graecia,” 229. 117. IG XII.9, 931, with Plut. Flam. 16 (Chalcis) and Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 37 (Corinth).

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such places include Cos, Cytheum, Narthacium, Chyretiae, Argos, Scotoussa, Phanothea, and several more. Further problems remain. The inconsistency between the general character of the declaration and the status of individual Greek communities is connected with another problem that has already been noted above. How was it possible that Flamininus and the ten commissioners came up with such contradictory decisions? None of them could go beyond the terms laid down by the senatus consultum, yet each side still found it possible to act in its own way. Interpretations of this situation have referred to Flamininus’s personal ambitions or to his deliberate conflict with the commissioners, or to his status as the magistrate in possession of imperium. But none of these views has succeeded in winning the majority opinion. This situation can possibly be explained by the special responsibility (usually referred to as fides) given to a Roman magistrate, which provided him with a space to maneuver in situations that allowed for more than one possible solution. It is tempting to trace this practice back into the royal period, when the king was the general: for example, at the surrender of Collatia, the king accepted the people of that city and whatever they had in “meam populique Romani dicionem.” In the Republican period, the discretion of Roman officials has been confirmed on numerous occasions: the senatus consultum of 212 allowed M. Claudius Marcellus to take any course of action that he deemed fit for the interests of the Roman state and his own trust (e re publica fideque sua); Sicily was to be given to one of the consuls in 204, with permission to cross over to Africa, “if he considered it to be advantageous to the state” (si id e re publica esse censeret); the senatus consultum about philosophers and rhetoricians, which was issued in 161, ordered that

118. PH 128 = SGDI 3656 = IGR IV 1049, with Chr. Habicht, in Widerstand-Anpassung-Integration: Die griechische Staatenwelt und Rom. Festschrift J. Deininger, ed. N. Ehrhardt and L.-M. Günther (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2002), 103–108; Syll. 592; IG IX.2, 89b = Sherk, Documents, no. 9 (c.140 b.c.). 119. IG IX.2, 338 = Syll. 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33 (c.194 b.c.), with D. Armstrong and J. J. Walsh, “SIG 593: The Letter of Flamininus to Chyretiae,” CP 81 (1986): 32–46. 120. BCH 88 (1964): 570 (c.195–194 b.c.); RÉA 66 (1964): 309 (late 190s b.c.?); Chiron 1 (1971): 167–168. 121. E.g., Delphi: BCH 89 (1965): 214–224. Delos: e.g., I.Délos 439a.76–77, 442b.85–86, 1429a.I.21–22, etc. 122. E.g., C. Storm, in Grazer Beiträge 18 (1992): 66–70; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 200–201, 257, 277. 123. Esp. Will, Histoire, 1:144–146. 124. E.g., A. Passerini, “La pace con Filippo e le relazioni con Antioco,” Athenaeum, n.s., 10 (1932): 112–115; Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 173 n. 31; Balsdon, “Flamininus,” 185–186; B. Schleussner, Die Legaten der römischen Republik (Munich: Beck, 1978), 51–53, 58 n. 161. 125. A. M. Eckstein, Senate and General: Individual Decision Making and Roman Foreign Relations, 264–194 b.c. (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1987), 294–295. 126. E.g., Polyb. 28.1.9; Suet. Rhet. 25 (= TLL 679.13): praetor should take care ita ut ei e re publica fidesque sua videretur (SC de phil. et rhet.). See esp. R. Heinze, “Fides,” Hermes 64 (1929): 162–163. 127. Liv. 1.38.1–2.

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they should be expelled from Rome but left the way in which this was to be done to the discretion of the praetor M. Pomponius (e re publica fideque sua). A similar situation was probably implied after the failed conference at Rome in 197, when Flamininus was given full discretion regarding war and peace, as we read in Polybios (δοῦσα τῷ Τίτῳ τὴν ἐπιτροπὴν ὑπὲρ τῶν Ἑλληνικῶν) and Livy (Quinctio liberum arbitrium pacis ac belli permissum). The same practice survived through to the end of the Republic, judging by what we find in Cicero’s works. Niccolò Machiavelli noted this Roman practice with approval and collected such evidence under the heading “How the Romans Gave Free Commissions to Their Captains of Armies.” Roman generals in Greece appear to have had a similarly large degree of personal discretion. Aemilius Paullus informed the Greeks about both the decisions of the senate and his own considerations, whereas a letter of a Roman official, tentatively identified with P. Licinius Crassus (cos. 171), to Delphi mentioned his own benevolence and that of the Roman people. It would not be surprising if the senatus consultum, which prolonged the stay of Flamininus in Greece and authorized him to take care of the post-war settlement, similarly left much to his own discretion. Flamininus himself may have reflected this situation when, in the letter to the city of Chyretiae, he referred to his own “stance” (proairesis) and that of the Roman people. A little later, the people of Magnesia (in Greece) acknowledged, in the words of Livy, that they had received “freedom” from Flamininus and the Roman people. This, or a similar formula, would have likely been included in Flamininus’s declaration of “Greek freedom” and then replicated in documents concerning Roman dealings with individual communities, so that the Greeks could easily have interpreted the Roman fides as an equivalent to Greek “stance” (proairesis). Even

128. Liv. 25.7.4, 28.45.8; Gell. 15.11.1; cf. Suet. Rhet. 25 (see n. 126 above). 129. Polyb. 18.12.1; Liv. 32.37.6. 130. Cic. Verr. 5.106; Cic. Ad Quint. 1.1.27. 131. N. Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, trans. H. C. Mansfield and N. Tarcor (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 206–207. 132. Liv. 45.9.3; Sherk, Documents, no. 40; J. Bousquet, “Le roi Persée et les Romains,” BCH 105 (1981): 407–416. 133. Syll. 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33, ll.2–4 (197–194 b.c.) with Sherk’s commentary ad hoc and Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 112–117. 134. Liv. 35.31.14–15. 135. E.g., Polyb. 18.46.5: ἡ σύγκλητος ἡ Ῥωμαίων καὶ Τίτος Κοΐ ντιος στρατηγὸς ὕπατος, Liv. 33.32.5: Senatus Romanus et T. Quinctius imperator; Plut. Flam. 10.4; Val. Max. 4.8.5. 136. Cf. a similar approach to cities in Asia Minor; Liv. 37.45.3: Asiae civitates in fidem consulis dicionemque populi Romani sese tradebant. The deditio in fidem: chapter 7 and Appendix 9.

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if this explanation is correct, however, it only stresses the ambivalent nature of Flamininus’s declaration: the actual settlement of affairs in post-war Greece was to be founded, to a large extent, on the personal discretion of the Roman general and the senatorial commission.

c onclusion The essential question, therefore, remains as to the real value of, and the reason for, Flamininus’s declaration, as well as its place in Roman policy toward the Greeks before 168. If we follow those who think that Flamininus’s declaration was meant to be propaganda, with the aim of winning the Greeks over to the Roman side before the war against Antiochos started, how could the Romans so openly disregard the freedom of individual Greek cities? Others, like Erich Gruen, claimed that there was simply no connection between the universal declaration of freedom and the status of individual communities. According to him, this pronouncement was “not a cynical distortion in order to advance imperialistic aims, but a convenient mode of expressing magnanimity and evading direct commitments. The Roman declaration carried no precise legal meaning,” and “[freedom] had for a long time been quite consistent with the suzerainty of larger powers over smaller.” However, if the Romans did not make any direct commitments and did not change their politics in Greece, then the question arises as to why Flamininus announced his declaration only after the war against Philip was over. And if the declaration did not bring freedom to Greek cities, what meaning did this declaration have? Finally, why then, as Erich Gruen himself noted further in his text, had “the Greeks, with perfect sincerity, celebrated Rome’s victory as a liberation”?

137. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 146–147, and a close stance of Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 254, on the Roman “strategy of laisser-faire” and (323) on freedom as a rhetorical tool: “Freiheit war stets nur eine kosmetische Zutat gewesen.” 138. Vollmer, Symploke, 151: “Dies ist als taktisches Verhalten einzuschätzen und nicht als Änderung der Politik.”

5 The Origin of the Roman Slogan of Greek Freedom

i The winner was the Roman T. Quinctius Flamininus, a great friend of the Greeks. When and from where did the idea of using the Greek slogan of freedom come to the Romans? The Romans obviously used references to “freedom” in their international agreements prior to establishing relations with the Greeks. For example, the “freedom” of Saguntum was made part of the renewal of the peace treaty between Rome and Carthage. Here “freedom” was used in a different sense, however: first, it was added to the “territorial clause,” and second, both sides pledged to protect “freedom,” that is, it was not declared by only one side. Finally, in this instance, “freedom” concerned only some specific territory, i.e. the territory of just one city. It appears that the Romans did not have the idea of using the slogan of freedom at the beginning of the Second Macedonian war, which they allegedly started “on account of the injuries [that Philip] had inflicted and the war he had made on the allies of the Roman people.” Nor did the Romans have this idea in 200, that is, before Flamininus’s arrival in Greece, when they twice delivered an ultimatum to Philip V of Macedonia, warning him against assailing Greek cities. The first time this ultimatum was delivered, it was to Philip through his general Nicanor: either 1. Bengtson, Herrschergestalten, 212. 2. Liv. 21.2.7 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 503 (226–225 b.c.). See also Liv. 21.18.9 and Flor. 1.22.4. 3. Liv. 31.6.1, 34.22.8, 45.22.6; see also App. Mac. 4; Iust. 29.4.11, 30.3.5–10; Cic. De leg. Manil. 14.

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Philip refrained from making war on any Greek state or he would find himself at war with Rome. Later that year, after Philip had laid the siege of Abydus, the ultimatum was reissued and repeated to the king in person by M. Aemilius Lepidus, who was then the Roman general opposing Philip: “[M]eeting the king near Abydus he informed him that the senate had passed a decree, begging him neither to make war on any of the Greeks, nor to lay hands on any of Ptolemy’s possessions. He was also to submit to a tribunal the question of compensation for the damage he had done to Attalus and the Rhodians. If he acted so he would be allowed to remain in peace, but if he did not at once accept these terms he would find himself at war with Rome.”

t he d ate and a uthorship of the f irst u se of the s logan of g reek f reedom by the r omans The issuance of two Roman ultimatums to Philip in 200 marked Rome’s assertion of a new rôle for herself in the Greek world, irrespective of whether we accept the idea that Rome had always been interested in promoting her power in Greece or that the Romans only started planning such involvement later: both those who support the first opinion (Walbank; Derow) and those in favor of the second (most famously, Holleaux) agree that Rome had plans for Greece in 201. After this ultimatum was repeated to Philip, in person, at Abydus, the Romans began the war. Thus, Roman politics toward the Greeks now employed the idea of containing the enemy by preventing him from breaking the status quo through the domination of Greek cities. However, neither edition of the ultimatum of 200 ever used the word “freedom,” at least not in the text of Polybios. On both occasions the Romans were

4. Polyb. 16.27.1–3 (incl. 16.27.2: Ῥωμαˆι οι παρακαλοῦσι τὸν βασιλέα τῶν μὲν Ἑλλήνων μηδενὶ πολεμεˆι ν, τῶν δὲ γεγονότων εἰς῎Ατταλον ἀδικημάτων δίκας ὑπέχειν ἐν ἴσῳ κριτηρίῳ) and 16.34.3–4 (incl. 16.34.3: ἃς καὶ συμμίξας περὶ τὴν ῎Αβυδον διεσάφει τψ῀ βασιλεˆι διότι δέδοκται τῇ συγκλήτῳ παρακαλεˆι ν αὐτὸν μήτε τῶν Ἑλλήνων μηδενὶ πολεμεˆι ν μήτε τοˆι ς Πτολεμαίου πράγμασιν ἐπιβάλλειν τὰς χεˆι ρας, περὶ δὲ τῶν εἰς ῎Ατταλον καὶ Ῥοδίους ἀδικημάτων δίκας ὑποσχεˆι ν), respectively; cf. Pédech, La méthode, 452: the siege of Abydus occurred in August–September 200. Pace Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 200–201, 205. 5. Esp. Petzold, Eröffnung, 37; Derow, “Polybius,” 5; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 46; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 279. 6. E.g., in L. Raditsa, “Bella Macedonica,” in ANRW 1.1 (1972): 568–574; Derow, “Polybius,” 6–7. 7. Polyb. 16.33–35. E. J. Bickerman, “Bellum Philippicum: Some Roman and Greek Views Concerning the Causes of the Second Macedonian War,” CP 40 (1945): 139; A. H. McDonald and F. W. Walbank, “The Origins of the Second Macedonian War,” JRS 27 (1937): 195–197; F. W. Walbank, “Roman Declaration of War in the Third and Second Centuries,” CP 44 (1949): 15–19; Bengtson, Geschichte, 475–476; J. W. Rich, Declaring War in the Roman Republic in the Period of Transmarine Expansion (Brussels: Latomus, 1976), 86; Petzold, Eröffnung, 43. 8. See Badian, Clientelae, 69–71; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 33–34. Cf. Badian, Flamininus, 37.

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following along the same pattern—which they had developed in Italy, Sicily, Illyria, and Spain—by interfering as if on behalf of the “oppressed.” It is not surprising that whether this ultimatum reflected Roman practice or Hellenistic influence has been debated. However, whereas the Romans were not using the word “freedom” in 200, the appeals of Attalos and Rhodes to the Aetolians and to the Athenians in that same year show that the Greeks were then fighting Philip expressly for their freedom. At that time, therefore, the Romans were still insensitive to, or ignorant of, this important component of Greek diplomacy. Nor did the negotiations between Flamininus and Philip in 198 include the slogan of Greek freedom. During the first round of negotiations (at Aous), before their decisive battle, Flamininus ordered Philip to evacuate Greece and to make good the damage he had done to Greek cities. This claim goes further than the ultimatum of 200: “damage” is just another word for the “injuries” that Philip had inflicted on the Greeks and which he had to repay, and no arbitration between Philip and those he had “damaged” is implied (i.e., seemingly quite like the second ultimatum made by the Romans in 200), but now Philip was also ordered to evacuate Greece. Diodoros is the only ancient author who says that at the negotiations at Aous, Flamininus ordered Philip to “free” Greece. Diodoros, however, first repeats the same two conditions imposed on Philip by Flamininus, as we see in Appian’s description of the negotiations at Aous—that is, to evacuate Greece and repay the damage—and only then sums up Flamininus’s words as a demand to “free” Greece. Flamininus’s order to “free” Greece was, therefore, another way for Diodoros to refer to Philip’s evacuation of Greece. Diodoros’s use of this verb most likely reflected his knowledge of the subsequent use of the slogan of freedom by the Romans. This explanation is supported by the fact that no reference to

9. E.g., Errington, Dawn, 141; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 48–49; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 290. Cf., however, Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 150, who interpreted this ultimatum as Roman defense of the “fredom of the Greeks against Macedonian aggression” and connected this stance with later Roman “propaganda” of Greek freedom. 10. For this ultimatum as reflecting Roman practice: Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 47 (against E. Bickermann’s view). 11. The Aetolians: Liv. 31.15.10; the Athenians: Polyb. 16.26.6 (see nn. 193 and 194 below). A distant echo of this fight for freedom can still be heard in Plut. Flam. 9.4 and Iust. 30.3.7. 12. App. Mac. 5–6; cf. Polyb. 16.27.2, 16.34.3 (see n. 4 above). See Eckstein, “Flamininus,” 129; Ager, Arbitrations, 165, 193–194. 13. Diod. 28.11. Cf. Accame, Roma, 199, on the declaration of 196 as concerning the establishment of a Roman “protectorate” over Greece, tracing the origins of this policy to what Flamininus had said at the Aous negotiations, and Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 60: the Romans’ questioning Antiochos’s occupation of the “fetters” provides the “first secure mention of the idea of the ‘freedom of the Greeks’ in this context.” 14. As also Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 94 n. 7.

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“freedom” has been attested with regard to the second round of negotiations in 198 (at Nicaea), for which we have very similar accounts by Polybios and Livy. Both distinguish between the demand by the Romans—to evacuate Greece entirely (as well as to surrender all captives and fugitives, to restore to the Romans those parts of Illyria that the king had come to control since the first treaty of peace, and to restore those cities that Philip had captured from the Ptolemies)—and the demands by those Greeks who were fighting on the Roman side (or the “allies,” in the words of Livy), which essentially amounted to “damage” restoration. Philip, therefore, received the same demands at both Aous and Nicaea. Besides Diodoros’s reference examined above, of a general nature and made in retrospect, there is no evidence that the Romans used the slogan of Greek freedom prior to the battle at Cynoscephalae. Nor is there any such evidence for the time immediately following the battle: during the negotiations at Tempe, Flamininus declared that if Philip agreed to the conditions presented to him before the battle, the Romans would have readily made peace with him, after first consulting the senate. To the objections of the Aetolians, Flamininus responded that he would “manage the peace in such a way that Philip will not, even he wished it, be able to wrong the Greeks.” The latter phrase is clearly reminiscent of the vocabulary used by the Romans when they offered the ultimatum to Philip in 200: “freedom” was not yet on the mind, or tongue, of the Romans. The Greeks continued, however, to present their conflict with Philip as a fight for freedom and would describe it in these terms to the senate in the winter of 198–197. Similar to what we saw in the fourth and early third centuries, both sides in the conflict between Philip and the Aetolians claimed to defend the freedom of the Greeks and, therefore, their safety (soteria): the Symmachy of Philip announced this aim in its declaration in 220, whereas the Aetolians made the “safety” of the Greeks the purpose of their own war against

15. Polyb. 18.1.13–14 and 18.2–3, respectively, and Liv. 32.33.3–4 and 32.33.5–16, respectively. Pace Champion, Cultural Politics, 52, who dated the beginning of “Flamininus’s propagandist diplomacy, stressing the freedom of the Greeks” to the conference in Nicaea. 16. Carawan, “Graecia,” 218; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 94, 100–102. Pace Petzold, “Einfluss,” 211; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 67–68. Errington, Hellenistic World, 206, perceptively emphasized a major difference between these two conferences: at the conference in Nicaea, “a new and particularly threatening dimension of the Roman intervention emerged. Flamininus declared himself unable to make a decision on major issues without consulting the senate and urged all participants to send plenipotentiaries to Rome. It was the first time that events on the ground in Greece were made dependent on the detailed decision of the senate.” For a further illustration of this Roman policy, see on Rome’s relations with the Achaean League in chapter 8. 17. See also, e.g., App. Mac. 5. This view: Badian, Clientelae, 71–72; Yoshimura, “Libertas-Begriff,” 12. 18. Polyb. 18.37.4 and 10. 19. Polyb. 18.37.12. Cf. Polyb. 16.27.1–3 and 16.34.3–4 (see n. 4 above). 20. Polyb. 18.11.4, 18.11.7, 18.11.11. Liv. 33.12.4 (the Aetolians).

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Philip. Likewise, the Rhodians argued for peace between Philip and the Aetolians for the sake of “freedom” and “safety” of the Greeks, as we have seen in the speech by Thrasicrates at the negotiations in 207. Individual cities were similarly fighting for their “freedom” at that time: in one such case, the city of Lilaea was “freed” by its inhabitants, led by a certain Patron, from the occupation by the forces of Philip. The Romans, therefore, did not employ the slogan of freedom prior to their defeat of Philip nor for some time after it. When did they start using it? And for what reason? The defeat of Philip by Flamininus’s army at Cynoscephalae in June 197 was followed by Antiochos advancing to the western shores of Asia Minor in the autumn of that year. He extended his authority to Lycia and planned to establish control over the Greek cities of Asia before recovering Thrace; he thought them all to be his ancestral possessions. Two Greek cities in western Asia Minor, Lampsacus and Smyrna (and probably Alexandria Troas as well), are known to have sent embassies to the Romans, asking for help and protection, from Flamininus, according to Appian, and from the senate, in the words of Polybios and Diodoros, who probably described different steps in the negotiations between these cities and the Romans. Appian says that Antiochos “passed among Greek cities thereabout most of them joined him and received his garrisons, because they feared capture by him. However, the inhabitants of Smyrna and Lampsacus, and some others who still resisted, sent ambassadors to Flamininus, the Roman general, who had lately overthrown Philip.” Polybios distinguished the following two groups: (i) Smyrna and Lampsacus, to which he added Alexandria Troas, and (ii) several other cities in Aeolia and Ionia that “preferred the Roman cause.” Polybios’s version is likely to be closer to the truth because the same two groups will appear in descriptions of

21. The declaration of the Symmachy: Polyb. 4.25.6–7 (“freedom”). Thrasicrates: Polyb. 11.5.1 (see p. 148, n. 23). 22. Paus. 10.33.3; F.Delphes III.1, no. 523 (= SEG 16, 328 = Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 2, 31), ll.2, 7 (c.209–208?). 23. This date: G. De Sanctis, Storia dei Romani, vol. 4.1 (Florence: Nuova Italia, 1969) 79; E. Cavaignac, “Le calendrier romain vers 198,” RÉG 10 (1924): 167; Holleaux, Études, 5:82. Late May through early June: Holleaux, Études, 5:157; H. H. Schmitt, Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Antiochos’ des Grossen und seiner Zeit (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1964), 286, and Walbank, Commentary, 2:572–584; Accame, Roma, 137 (25 June); Eckstein, Senate, 285. 24. Ma, Antiochos, 82–84; A. Bresson, “Dédicace des Xanthiens à Antiochos III,” in Les cités d’Asie Mineure occidentale au IIe siècle a.C., ed. A. Bresson and R. Descat (Bordeaux: Ausonius; Paris: De Boccard, 2001), 237–240. 25. Ma, Antiochos, 26–38. 26. App. Syr. 2; Polyb. 21.13.3; Diod. 29.7; see Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 319. 27. App. Syr. 2: Σμυρναˆι οι δὲ καὶ Λαμψακηνοὶ καὶ ἕτεροι. This could be a projection of later developments into the past; cf. Liv. 34.57.2 and 34.59.4: during the negotiations in Rome in 193, the senate listened to the envoys ex universa Graecia et magna parte Asiae. Cf. Polyb. 21.14.1–2 (at the negotiations in 190).

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the negotiations between Antiochos and Rome in 193, and in Antiochos’s proposal to Rome after his defeat at Thermopylae and Myonnesus. It is generally believed that the negotiations between the Romans and two Greek cities, Smyrna and Lampsacus, began in late 197, in the aftermath of Antiochos’s advance to the western shores of Asia Minor in the autumn of that year. Some authors, however, preferred to place these negotiations in the following year. In particular, Maurice Holleaux connected the embassies of these two cities to Rome with Antiochos’s advance to the west in late 197 and early 196 but only spoke of the embassy of Hegesias from Lampsacus, whose presence in Rome was dated by Holleaux to 196. Our vision of these events thus to a large extent depends on how the problems of chronology are resolved. Such problems include the dating of the senatus consultum that rounded out the second Roman war against Philip, and of the arrival of the ten Roman commissioners in Greece for the purpose of settling Greek affairs. Some put the senatus consultum in late 197 with the ratification of peace by the comitia in November 197, so that when the Lampsacian embassy arrived in Rome later in 197, the Ten had already brought the senatus consultum to Corinth. David Magie thought that the negotiations between Lampsacus and the Romans began even before Antiochos took Ephesus, that is, in the autumn of 197, but that the senate, “evading responsibility for any possible inexpedient decision,” “referred this and the envoys’ other requests to the Roman commissioners then in Greece.” However, the commissioners were carrying the senatus consultum that had already been ratified by the assembly, and therefore the main decision had already been made, whereas the Lampsacenes would later claim that the aim of the embassy to Rome had been achieved and that the Romans guaranteed the freedom of Lampsacus by pledging to protect it in the future, as we see in the honorific decree of this city for Hegesias, who had been the leader of that embassy. The embassy, therefore, should have arrived in Rome before the popular assembly ratified the senatus consultum. Additionally, Magie’s conclusion that, according to Polybios’s version, the desire of the Lampsacenes to become a signatory to the treaty between Rome and Philip (in Magie’s interpretation) was not fulfilled does

28. Liv. 35.16.5; Polyb. 21.13.3 and Diod. 29.7 with App. Syr. 29. 29. Bickerman, “Rom,” 298; D. Magie, “Rome and the City-States of Western Asia Minor from 200 to 133 b.c.,” in Anatolian Studies Presented to W. H. Buckler, ed. W. M. Calder and J. Keil (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1939), 164; Magie, Rule, 947 n. 51; Schmitt, Untersuchungen, 290–293; Errington, “Rome,” 271; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 134–135. 30. Holleaux, Études, 5:141–142; so also J. D. Grainger, The Roman War of Antiochos the Great (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2002), 60–61, 68 (March 196). 31. Cavaignac, “Calendrier,” 167; Bickerman, “Rom,” 298; Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 55. 32. I.Lampsakos 4 = Syll. 591 = IGR IV 179 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 195–198, no. 236e.

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not fit well with the laudatory nature of the inscription in honor of Hegesias and other ambassadors, who are being praised in that text for having successfully accomplished their mission. Eugène Cavaignac thought that the Macedonian ambassadors arrived in Rome in September 197 and dealt with the consul-designate Marcellus until the latter assumed the consulship in mid-November. Cavaignac thus accused Polybios of an error, presenting a consul-designate as a consul, and referred to the “uncertainty” of Livy. However, Polybios clearly says that ambassadors from Philip and the legates sent by Flamininus and the “allies” on the subject of peace with Philip only arrived when M. Claudius Marcellus assumed the consulship (ἐπὶ Μαρκέλλου Κλαυδίου ὑπάτου παρειληφάτος τὴν ὕπατον ἀρχήν) and that after “prolonged deliberations in the senate” (λόγων δὲ πλειόνων γενομένων ἐν τῇ συγκλήτῳ), the senatus consultum on ending the war against Philip V was ratified by the people (ὁ δῆμος . . . ἐπεκύρωσε τὰς διαλύσεις). Immediately afterward (εὐθέως), the ten commissioners were selected and sent to Greece. There is no reason to doubt the reliability of Polybios’s evidence. The negotiations took place following the beginning of the consular year 196. When did this consular year start? Direct information is missing. Relevant evidence is available for the preceding and subsequent periods, however. The consular year 200 is thought to have started on 14 January, with that of 199 on 4 January. Some believe that the consular year 195 started on 24 November 196 and that of 194 on 14 November 195. Therefore, the beginning of the consular year 196 likely took place in December of the calendar year 197, as has been suggested by Patrick Marchetti, who put the beginning of consular year 196 on either 5 December or 27 December of calendar 197, depending on how many (from one to three) intercalary years occurred between 203 and 190. Livy says that after the consuls assumed their office, the imperium of Flamininus was prorogued. The ten commissioners officially brought this information to Titus, along with the decision of the senate that the Ten and Titus were supposed to supervise the post-war settlement of Greece together.

33. Magie, Rule, 105–106; Magie, “City-States,” 165. 34. Cavaignac, “Calendrier,” 167, 171. 35. Polyb. 18.42.1–8. 36. See also De Sanctis, Storia, 4.1, 375. 37. V. M. Warrior, The Initiation of the Second Macedonian War: An Explication of Livy Book 31 (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1996), 33–34, 105–107. 38. J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy Books XXXIV–XXXVII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981), 26; V. M. Warrior, in Transitions to Empire, 357–358, 370–371. 39. See also De Sanctis, Storia, 4.1, 84 n. 166. 40. P. Marchetti, in AC 42 (1973): 477, followed by Briscoe, Commentary, 20, 25. 41. Liv. 33.25.11. See Polyb. 18.42.5.

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The words of Livy do not imply that the prorogation of Titus’s imperium took place immediately after the consuls of the consular year 196 assumed power. The decision about the prorogation of Titus’s imperium was made after the peace had been ratified, following “prolonged deliberations” that took place after the beginning of the consular year 196. These deliberations were largely caused by the desire of new consul Marcellus to receive the imperium in Macedonia, which suggests that these deliberations occurred as the sortition of provinces for 196 was taking place. The senatus consultum regarding the peace treaty with Philip was then put forward by the senate and ratified by the people. The senatus consultum was therefore issued well after the negotiations between Rome and the Greek cities of Asia had begun. This means that the use of the slogan of freedom by the Romans, which is documented for the first time in this senatus consultum (and which was the basis for Flamininus’s declaration at the Isthmian games of 196), could have been suggested to the senate by the ambassadors of Lampsacus or Smyrna, or both of them, or by some other Greek city in western Asia Minor that had sent its ambassadors to Rome. The Ten were dispatched to Greece “immediately” following the ratification of the senatus consultum by the comitia centuriata. These two events have generally been placed in early 196. A few more details can be added to this picture. The ten commissioners came to Greece either at the very end of the Roman suppression of the Boeotian revolt, caused by the murder of Brachylles, or soon afterward. This revolt has been dated, very broadly, to the “winter” of 197–196. Evidence that the revolt broke out after Flamininus occupied winter quarters in Elatea provides a “seasonal reference.” Because a seasonal calendar could differ from year to year, this reference does not seem to be of much help. However, such evidence still points to a period that has generally been defined as lasting from November to March: the beginning of (Polybios’s) winter has been put in November, even

42. Liv. 33.25.4–5. See De Sanctis, Storia, 4.1, 84, 91; Passerini, “Pace,” 108–109; H. Tränkle, Livius und Polybios (Basel and Stuttgart: Schwabe, 1977), 64–65. 43. De Sanctis, Storia, 4.1, 91. 44. Cf. also Liv. 33.31.4. 45. Cf. Eckstein, Senate, 295–300; Eckstein, “Polybius,” 49; Will, Histoire, 2:142–145; Deininger, Widerstand, 62; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 148; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 81; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 245, 280, 285. 46. Polyb. 18.44.1; Liv. 33.30.1, with the analysis of the two accounts by Tränkle, Livius, 149–150. 47. See V. M. Warrior, “Livy, Book 42: Structure and Chronology,” AJAH 6 (1981 [1982]): 24, 26; Warrior, Initiation, 33–35. 48. Polyb. 18.43.1, 8; Liv. 33.27.5 with J. Briscoe, in Historia 26 (1977): 248–250, and Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 56. 49. U. Kahrstedt, “Zum Ausbruche des dritten römisch-makedonischen Krieges,” Klio 11 (1911): 424; Pédech, La méthode, 450, 462–463; P. Marchetti, in BCH 100 (1976): 405; Warrior, “Livy, Book 42,” 24–26; H.-U. Wiemer, “Der Beginn des 3. Makedonischen Krieges: Überlegungen zur Chronologie,” Historia 53 (2004): 35.

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though the autumn equinox and early December (if only with reference to Livy) have been suggested as well. An additional chronological indication (though still quite a broad one and, therefore, not of much help either) is that Flamininus advised the Boeotians to speak to Alexamenes, the Aetolian strategos. It is because the Aetolian strategoi were elected at the autumn equinox that Phaeneas, who was the strategos in the previous year (198–197), represented the Aetolian League at the conference of Nicaea late in 198. The same rule should have applied to Alexamenes, who, therefore, assumed office in October 197. We also know that the revolt of the Boeotians took place shortly after Brachylles was elected as one of the boeotarchs, and that this revolt lasted for quite some time. There should have been a certain (presumably, relatively short) period between the election of the boeotarchs for the next year and the moment when they assumed their office. As for the latter moment, Plutarch’s words (ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ μηνὶ παραδοῦναι τὴν βοιωταρχίαν ἑτέροις, ὃν Βουκάτιον ὀνομάζουσι) have been interpreted as if the boeotarchs assumed their responsibilities after the winter solstice (the majority opinion) or by the first new moon (i.e., the first day of the next lunar month) after the winter solstice (Busolt and, perhaps, Buckler and Bertazzoli). This evidence comes from an earlier period than the one that interests us here. However, although it is possible that the number of the boeotarchs could have changed over time, the moment when they assumed the office, which was fixed at the beginning of the year of the Boeotians, is likely to have remained the same. The election, therefore, most likely happened shortly before the winter solstice, that is, in November or early December. The ten envoys carrying the senatus consultum, which had been ratified by the people, thus arrived in Greece after the beginning of the consular year of 196, that

50. Holleaux, Études, 5:77–78, followed by Walbank, Papers, 183. 51. P. Heiland, “Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Königs Perseus von Makedonien (179–168)” (diss., Jena: Universitäts-Buchdruckerei, 1913), 48 n. 7. 52. Polyb. 18.1.4; Holleaux, Études, 5:77. Pace Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 193 (late September). 53. Cf. Pédech, La méthode, 456 n. 142: from September. 54. Polyb. 18.43.3; Liv. 33.28–29. 55. Plut. Pelop. 25.1. E.g., H. Bischoff, “Kalender,” in RE 10.2 (1919): 1576; Roesch, Thespies, 97; Pédech, La méthode, 455 n. 139, and P. Roesch, Études béotiennes (Paris: De Boccard, 1982), 33–45; P. Salmon, Étude sur la Confédération béotienne (447/6–386): Son organisation et son administration (Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique, 1978), 138; Wiemer, “3. Makedonischen Krieges,” 33. 56. Busolt, Staatskunde, 2:1418; Buckler, Hegemony, 139; Bertazzoli, “Tebe,” 121. The Boeotian lunar calendar: A. E. Samuel, Greek and Roman Chronology (Munich: Beck, 1972), 67–69. 57. For the number of the boeotarchs before and after the King’s Peace, see p. 40, nn. 176–180. 58. “Spätherbst”: Busolt, Staatskunde, 2:1418 n. 4: with reference to the evidence about the election of Brachylles (Polyb. 18.43.1, 3); K. J. Beloch, in Klio 15 (1918): 383: with reference to Flamininus’s winter quarters in Elatea.

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is, either at the very end of calendar 197 or, more likely (taking into account the chronology of the Boeotian revolt), early in calendar 196. The Ten met with Flamininus at his winter quarters in Elatea, which indicates that it was still “winter,” before they all proceeded to Corinth. In accordance with the decision of the senate, the ambassadors of Lampsacus followed the Ten to Corinth, where the ambassadors met with Titus. It is in Corinth that they were to discuss various particulars of the peace treaty and relations between Rome and the city of Lampsacus. There thus was neither need nor time for the “second embassy” of Lampsacus, as some have been suggested; needless to say, there is no evidence for this “second embassy.” Most likely, embassies from other Greek states also traveled to Corinth: decisions on their particular claims and interests had been left to the Ten as well. Flamininus’s declaration at the Isthmian games, dated to April or May 196, spoke of the freedom of the former Philip’s subjects as something that was already in place. We know that the senatus consultum, which formally ended the Second Macedonian war, had established “the next Isthmian games” as the deadline for Philip to remove his garrisons from all those Greek cities that had been subject to him and to surrender the cities to the Romans. This certainly required a protracted period of time, which also suggests that the treaty was ratified by the people in the winter of 197–196. The adoption of this new Roman policy toward the Greeks was thus prompted not by Flamininus, as some have believed, but by the senators, who were the first of the Romans to come up with the idea. The latter made its way into the senatus consultum that gave the Greeks both “freedom” and the right to use their own laws. According to Roman diplomatic practice, the right of a community to use its own laws was, by itself, a display of the community’s free status. The addition of the word “freedom,” which carried the same meaning, was thus due to Greek

59. Cf. Holleaux, Études, 4:318: peace in 197–196 and the senatus consultum in either 197 (p. 321) or 196 (pp. 314 n. 2; 322). See p. 369: the Ten arrived in about May 196, and the games took place in June and July of that year. 60. Polyb. 18.45.7; Eckstein, Senate, 299. Pace Accame, Roma, 185. 61. I.Lampsakos 4 (= Syll. 591 = IGR IV 179 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 195–198, no. 236e). 68–75. 62. E.g., Gruen, Hellenistic World, 621 n. 42; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 135 n. 12. 63. Polyb. 18.42.6–7; cf. 18.45.7–12. 64. Polyb. 18.44.3. Cf. Magie, Rule, 947 n. 51: “the signing of the treaty in the early summer of 196.” 65. E.g., Eckstein, Senate, 274–302; Walsh, “Propaganda,” 345; Günther, “Griechenfreund,” 129; Carawan, “Graecia,” 214. 66. As Holleaux, Études, 5:366; Badian, Clientelae, 70–71; Seager, “Freedom,” 109; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 145–146; Petzold, “Einfluss,” 212, 216, 230, 232–233; Ferrary, “Traités,” 221; Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 330; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 280–287. 67. R. Bernhardt, in Historia 24 (1975): 412; R. Bernhardt, in Historia 26 (1977): 68.

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influence. It is irrelevant whether the senatus consultum was an awkward combination of two different diplomatic practices or if the use of “freedom” implied a general approach, while the clause about the right to use one’s own laws was intended for individual Greek cities. It could be both. What matters is that the senatus consultum was adjusted to conform to Greek diplomatic practices. Finally, the slogan of freedom was then appropriated and publicly aired at the Isthmian games by Flamininus. Some have dated the senate’s borrowing of the slogan of Greek freedom to even before the battle of Cynoscephalae. Although the use of this word is documented before the battle, “freedom” was not yet being used as a political slogan. Nor is Flamininus documented as having used the slogan of Greek freedom before his proclamation at the Isthmian games. It is possible that he pondered offering the protection of the Greeks against Philip’s injustices as the basis of his treaty with Philip after the battle of Cynoscephalae. At least, this is what Polybios implies with reference to Flamininus’s own words. No indication exists, however, that Flamininus ever referred to “freedom” during the negotiations at Tempe. His vocabulary at that time corresponded to the one employed in the Roman ultimatums to Philip in 200. The idea that Flamininus had already come up with the slogan of Greek freedom in 198, that is, immediately after assuming command of the Roman army in Greece, has no evidential support either. This idea might have been based on an assumption that the war against Philip was started for the sake of the freedom of Greek cities. However, this vision has been based on later interpretations: for

68. E.g., most recently, Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 278–285, 292–293, and p. 351, n. 2. 69. For Greek influence on Roman diplomatic practices, including the understanding of “freedom,” see chapter 7. 70. A. H. McDonald, review of Badian, Clientelae, JRS 49 (1959): 149; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 145; Eckstein, Senate, 296; Derow, “Philhellenism,” 1160; R. Werner, in ANRW 1.1 (1972): 553–556; Vollmer, Symploke, 151. 71. As, correctly, Seager, “Freedom,” 108–109. His brief discussion of the post-Cynoscephalae period, however, left the question of how the Romans came to use the slogan of Greek freedom unanswered. Seager’s idea that the senate could be the first to come up with this slogan was buried under his general observation (p. 110) that “once both Flamininus and the senate had decided to pose as champions of Greek freedom, the possibility of broadening this stance to include the Greeks of Asia would immediately become obvious to them without any prompting.” 72. Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 32–33. 73. Polyb. 18.37.12 (see n. 19 above). 74. Polyb. 16.27.1–3 and 16.34.1–6, 16.35 (cf. n. 4 above). 75. Derow, “Philhellenism,” 1160. Cf. De Sanctis, Storia, 4.1, 75; Carawan, “Graecia,” 214; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 289–292. 76. G. Colin, Rome et la Grèce de 200 à 146 av. J.-C. (Paris: Fontemoing, 1905), 82; Petzold, Eröffnung, 36–37.

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example, Elias Bickermann claimed that the Romans were fighting for the freedom of the Greeks “during the war itself, and after”—with reference to the speech of Eumenes before the senate, following the defeat of Antiochos (from Polybios) and the reaction by the Greeks to Flamininus’s declaration at the Isthmian games (from Livy). Additionally, this assumption misses two key facts. First, Flamininus assumed the military command against Philip only after the war had already been in progress for some time. Second, Roman historians later claimed that Rome had started the second war against Philip V because of his collaboration with Hannibal and in defense of the Roman allies. This stance reflected Roman pretensions that the power of Rome had expanded because of a need to protect Roman allies, thus creating the image of Roman imperialism as “defensive” or “preemptive.” Therefore, the Roman version of the beginning of the second war between Rome and Philip V offers two explanations at once: the defense of Roman allies and the protection of Greek freedom. In either case, the Roman reason for starting another war against Philip depended on the nature of the peace of Phoenice (205). If the Romans had made the peace of Phoenice in the form of a koine eirene, it should have both protected all Greek city-states and justified the second Roman war against Philip (200–197) as the Roman defense of Greek freedom. But this view requires accepting the interpretation of pax communis as koine eirene, which Bickermann offered on the basis of Livy’s story that the Epirotes, reflecting everyone’s desire to make peace and, having already consulted the Romans, sent ambassadors to Philip “in regard to a general peace” (legatos de pace communi ad Philippum misere). Bickermann then traced the story of the “common peace” down from Andocides (in 392), putting together such treaties of peace as the King’s Peace (386), the two treaties of 371 and those of 366–365 and 361, as well as that of 346

77. Bickerman, “Bellum Philippicum,” 140; Polyb. 21.23.7; Liv. 33.33.6. 78. E.g., Liv. 31.6.1 (see n. 3 above); e.g., Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 60–61. See also below on Athens as allegedly being included on the list of the adscripti to the peace of Phoenice by the “annalistic tradition,” in order to justify the second Roman war against Philip as being waged on behalf of Roman allies. 79. E.g., Cic. De Off. 2.26; Flor. 1.3.6. These definitions of Roman, and modern, imperialism: S. Dmitriev, “(Re-)constructing the Roman Empire: From ‘Imperialism’ to ‘Post-colonialism.’ An Historical Approach to History and Historiography,” Annali della Scuola normale superiore di Pisa, ser. 5, 1 (2009): 140–141. 80. This appears to be the traditional dating of the peace of Phoenice: Holleaux, Rome, 258; Holleaux, Études, 4:70; F. Geyer, “Philippos V.,” in RE 19.2 (1938): 2310–2311; P. S. Derow, “Philip V,” in OCD, 1162; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 77; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 123 (again, following Holleaux). For 206: Rich, “Aims,” 149; Habicht, Athens, 195, and 204: Th. Wałek-Czernecki, “Les origines de la seconde guerre de Macédoine,” Eos 31 (1928): 369; cf. H. E. van Gelder, Geschichte der alten Rhodier (The Hague: Mayer & Müller, 1900), 121: 205 or 204. 81. Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 68–75 (see also in his “Bellum Philippicum,” 142); Liv. 29.12.8.

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(and subsequent amendments), and that of Antigonos Doson. While acknowledging “common peace” as a purely Greek practice, Bickermann interpreted it as “a general pact of non-aggression,” so that while the peace of Phoenice was made by only two parties, Rome and Macedonia, the pact of non-aggression was extended to “all the important states of Greece.” However, it is hard to build a valid argument on the basis of one’s interpretation of a single phrase, which we see neither in the rest of Livy’s surviving text nor in other known references to the peace of Phoenice, and Bickermann’s idea has already been criticized. More important, as we have already seen above, the original Greek idea of Peace implied the protection of the status not only of the signatories to the treaty and those states that were subscribed, as the adscripti, to this treaty on either side (i.e., those affiliated in this or that way with the signatories), but of non-participants as well. This is what the King’s Peace and the treaties that followed it claimed to enforce. Hence, the importance of the slogan of freedom in such treaties: this slogan protected those who were not directly covered by the treaty and helped to preserve the overall political balance by offering a casus belli in case the “freedom” of individual cities, including those that had not participated in the treaty, was seen as being violated. However, the peace of Phoenice protected only the security and status of the adscripti on both sides. If the peace of Phoenice offered protection only to the adscripti (socii, philoi) on both sides, then Rome started her second war against Philip on behalf of “allies.” Even if the Romans started the war not because of his violation of the treaty of Phoenice, but on “moral grounds, that is, as if on behalf of those whom Philip had damaged,” there is still no evidence for the use of the slogan of freedom by the Romans before the defeat of Philip in 197. The understanding that the Romans started their second war against Philip in defense of Greek freedom, therefore, only developed in later ancient texts in retrospect, and has since been preserved, in this or that way, even in some modern works. Some accepted the Roman claim that Rome started the second war against Philip for the sake of Greek freedom, as did Alfred Heuss. Others, like Bickermann, asserted that this version was alien to

82. Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 69–71, 73. 83. Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 69–71, 73. 84. Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 71. 85. E.g., Schmitt, ad Staatsverträge 3, no. 543; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 389. 86. Liv. 29.12.14; cf. App. Mac. 3.4 (μηδετέρους ἀδικεˆι ν τοὺς ἐκατέρωθεν φίλους). 87. E.g., Bickermann, “Les préliminaires,” 166; Walbank, Commentary, 2:543. 88. E.g., Liv. 45.22.6; Paus. 10.34.4. 89. A. Heuss, “Die römische Ostpolitik und die Begründung der römischen Weltherrschaft,” Neue Jahrbücher für antike und deutsche Bildung 1 (1938): 345, 348–349.

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the “annalistic tradition” and that Livy had added this interpretation himself, but “following in Polybius’ steps.” However, Polybios only inserted the idea of this “freedom” as being the ultimate aim of the second Roman war against Philip in the speech of the Rhodians before the senate in Rome after the Roman victory over Antiochos, probably relying on Rhodian sources. The uncertainty of the provenance of this information in the text of Polybios does not, by itself, negate the idea that the second Roman war against Philip would be reinterpreted as a Roman fight for Greek freedom only after the war was over. The opinion that it was Titus Flamininus who first suggested using the slogan of freedom has also remained quite attractive. However, there is only one form of direct evidence that can be, and has been, used in support of this opinion. These are several passages from Polybios, all of which speak of “freedom” with a very practical and narrow meaning, that is, as freedom from Antiochos’s alleged oppression. Nor can other observations, such as that the ten commissioners felt no obligation to free all Greek cities or that the “people ratified the treaty in accordance with Flamininus’s preference,” support the idea that it was Flamininus who proposed using the slogan of Greek freedom to the senate. The Ten agreed with Flamininus’s suggestion to free some cities, and clearly Flamininus was not going to free them all, whereas the cases they did not agree on were referred to the senate. Therefore, it is not the stance of the Ten, who disagreed with Flamininus on some of the Greek cities he felt should receive freedom, but the meaning of the slogan of freedom that needs to be the primary focus of our investigation. The words of Polybios about “Flamininus’s preference” certainly referred to Titus’s inclination toward making peace with Philip and, consequently, proroguing his imperium in Greece: Polybios’s phrase means that by ratifying the peace with Philip, the people did what was to Flamininus’s liking. The ratification of this peace came despite the objections of M. Claudius Marcellus, who wanted to go on with the war in order to receive the military command in Greece for himself. Such information, however, has nothing to do with using the slogan of Greek freedom. Finally, Flamininus and his brother were very unpopular with the Greeks in late 198 because of their destruction of Phaloria in

90. Bickerman, “Bellum Philippicum,” 140 n. 38, with reference to Liv. 33.33.6 (the rejoicing of the Greeks, as their freedom was being delivered to them by Flamininus’s speech in Corinth) and Polyb. 21.23.7. 91. See p. 283, n. 4. 92. Walsh, “Propaganda,” 351–353, 354: the Ten, and 355, with reference to Polyb. 18.42.4: οὐ μὴν ἀλλ’ ὅ γε δῆμος κατὰ τὴν τοῦ Τίτου προαίρεσιν ἐπεκύρωσε τὰς διαλύσεις. 93. Details of this arrangement: Polyb. 18.45.7–12; Eckstein, Senate, 299. 94. Marcellus: Liv. 33.25.4–5 (see n. 42 above) with Briscoe, “Senatorial Politics,” 1088.

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Thessaly, their sacking of Phthiotic Thebes and of Elatea in Phocis, and their plundering of Eretria on Euboea. The Achaean League is known to have turned to Flamininus (in late 198) because the Achaeans feared the Roman army. It would be surprising if Flamininus, unscrupulous as he was, appeared to be the person who came up with the slogan of freedom for the Greeks in such circumstances. After the treaty with Philip had been ratified by the people, the senate dispatched the ten commissioners to manage Greek affairs, in conjunction with Flamininus, and to “promote the freedom of the Greeks.” The treaty ordered Philip to evacuate his garrisons from all Greek cities that had been subject to him and to surrender these cities to the Romans by “the next Isthmian games.” The ten commissioners had been sent by the senate to Corinth, where negotiations between Rome, Macedonia, and representatives of the Greeks were to take place. The senate’s choice of Corinth was hardly incidental: this city’s history had been closely interwoven with the use of the slogan of freedom. The evidence regarding the course of events and the content of the senatus consultum suggests that the senate also planned to issue a proclamation of freedom for the Greeks at the Isthmian games, once all Philip’s garrisons were removed from Greece. Flamininus likely refined the senatus consultum (which proclaimed the Greeks to be “free and under their own laws”) into a declaration that sounded more familiar to the Greeks: the latter were to be “free, ungarrisoned, untaxed, and under their own ancestral laws.” Flamininus also may have been given certain liberties to adapt the senatus consultum to local realities. As we have seen above, Roman generals often received a considerable amount of leeway; according to Livy, the ten commissioners had been instructed to take such actions as were dictated by the public interest and their own good discretion with respect to Chalcis, Corinth, and Demetrias. However, it is not necessarily true that this refined form of the declaration “was in fact the direct outcome of [Flamininus’s] own discussions with

95. Paus. 7.8.1; Polyb. 18.38.5; Liv. 32.24.1–7; SEG 11, 1107, with Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 34; H. Volkmann, Die Massenversklavungen der Einwohner eroberter Städte in der Hellenistisch-römischen Zeit (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1990), 22–23. See Eckstein, “Flamininus,” 124–126; Eckstein, Senate, 278. 96. Liv. 32.19.6; Paus. 7.8.1–2; L. Homo, “Flamininus et la politique romaine en Grèce (198–194 av. J.-C.),” Revue historique 121 (1916): 272–273; Holleaux, Études, 5:356–357. 97. Polyb. 18.42.5, 18.44.3. 98. E.g., Polyb. 18.45.7; I.Lampsakos 4 (= Syll. 591 = IGR IV 179 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 195–198, no. 236e).70–71. 99. For this rôle of Corinth, see esp. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 86–88. 100. Liv. 33.31.5. Cf. Polyb. 18.47.10–13 and Liv. 33.30.10–11 (see p. 160, n. 100).

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the Ten, discussions in which he was the dominant voice.” One certainly needs to distinguish between the final wording of the declaration, which was most likely that of Flamininus (considering what we know about his dealings with the envoys of the Greeks and the Ten), and the original idea of the declaration itself. Nor should one forget that the ambassadors of Lampsacus and Smyrna, and probably other Greek cities as well, followed Flamininus and the Ten to Corinth, where they participated in, or were consulted in the course of, the deliberations of the Romans. In addition, neither Flamininus nor the Ten could change the senate’s decisions that had been ratified by the people; nor could they replace these decisions with their own views. This fact, again, suggests that the idea of using the slogan of freedom came from the senate and was then appropriated by Flamininus, who had the discretion to refine this slogan as he thought would best serve the Roman interests. What is clear is that the senatus consultum, which included the slogan of freedom (and, probably, a reference to the proclamation of the freedom of the Greeks at the next Isthmian games as well), would then be ratified by the Roman people and become the second treaty between Rome and Philip V of Macedonia.

t he s econd r oman t reaty with p hilip v Aside from the problem of the date and authorship of the first use of the slogan of freedom by the Romans, two more problems appear to be directly relevant to this aspect of the relationship between Rome and the Greeks. One of them is the above-mentioned negotiation between Rome and Lampsacus; the other is the content of the second treaty between Rome and Philip. These two problems, which are closely interconnected, will be discussed here in turn. The negotiations between the ambassadors of Lampsacus and the commander of the Roman navy, Lucius Flamininus, the brother of Titus, have been documented in the honorific decree of that city for Hegesias, the leader of the embassy. We know, therefore, that the people of Lampsacus wanted their status, specifically

101. Eckstein, Senate, 300, 316–317. The problem with this thesis is that it refers to the debates between Flamininus and the Ten (including those on the status of Corinth and other Greek cities), which occurred only after the declaration. If the senate planned the declaration of Greek freedom in advance, by establishing the Isthmian games as the deadline for Philip’s evacuation of Greece, then the authorship of the declaration also belonged to the senate. “Refinement” could come from Flamininus or, more likely, from those Greeks who accompanied the Ten to Corinth. 102. E.g., IG IX.2, 89b (= Syll. 674 = Sherk, Documents, no. 9).51–54: οὓ ς νόμους Τίτος Κοΐ γκτιος ὕπατος ἀπὸ τῆς τῶν δέκα πρεσβευτῶν γνώμης ἔδωκεν, καὶ κατὰ δόγμα συγκλήτου (SC de Narthaciensibus et Melitaeensibus, c.140 b.c.); Val. Max. 4.8.5: senatus populusque Romanus et T. Quinctius Flamininus imperator.

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their “autonomy” and “democracy,” to be acknowledged and to be given guarantees that would preserve this status in the treaties between Rome and her adversaries: (Lucius Flamininus) “undertook that if he made friendship or sworn agreement with anyone, he would include our city in the agreements, and that he would maintain the democracy and the autonomy and the peace,” “and when the ambassadors besought that we might be included in the agreements the Romans made with the king (ὅπως συμπεριληφθῶμεν [ἐν ταˆι ς συνθήκαις] ταˆι ς γενομέναις Ῥωμαίοις πρὸς τὸμ [β]α[σιλέα), the Senate included us in the agreements with the king, just as they themselves write.” Then, (Hegesias) “met with the general and the ten commissioners, and having spoken to them on behalf of the demos and having called upon them with the zeal to take thought on our behalf and to contribute to the preservation of our city as autonomous and democratic.” The inscription speaks only about the “autonomy” and “democracy” of Lampsacus, but Livy says that “Smyrna and Lampsacus were contending for their freedom.” As far as we can tell, the Romans did indeed offer their pledge to protect the freedom of Lampsacus, Smyrna, and possibly other Greek cities of Asia. This is what is implied in the honorific inscription by Lampsacus for Hegesias and, at a slightly later date, in the establishment of the cult of the goddess Romê by the grateful people of Smyrna in 195. How could the Romans protect the freedom of Lampsacus and Smyrna? Rejecting the approach that denied that the second Roman treaty with Philip included the list of the adscripti, the common opinion regarding the outcome of the negotiations between the Romans and Lampsacus has been that the latter city was listed among the Roman adscripti to the treaty. This list is thought to have been located either at the beginning of the treaty (so Frisch, in his edition of inscriptions from Lampsacus) or at the end (as has been most prominently advanced by Ferrary), which Polybios did not bother to mention, for some reason. Bickermann, and after him Ferrary, established parallels between Rome’s

103. I.Lampsakos 4 (= Syll. 591 = IGR IV 179 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 195–198, no. 236e).32–34, 63–67, 70–71 (196–195: P. Frisch; c.197–196: Canali De Rossi), with interpretations by A. Wilhelm, “Zu dem Beschlusse der Lampsakener, Sylloge 591,” Archiv für Papyrusforschung und verwandte Gebiete 15 (1953): 80–88. 104. Liv. 33.38.3: libertatem usurpabant. 105. Mommsen, Geschichte, 1:724–725; P. Desideri, “Studi di storiografia eracleota,” SCO 19–20 (1970– 1971): 503–505; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 135–136. Smyrna: Tac. Ann. 4.56; R. M. Errington, in Chiron 17 (1987): 100–101. 106. E.g., Homo, “Flamininus,” 272; Ager, Arbitrations, 217. 107. E.g., D. Balsdon, “Rome and Macedon, 205–200 b.c.,” JRS 44 (1954): 33; P. Frisch, in I.Lampsakos, 25. 108. P. Frisch, in I.Lampsakos, 25–26, and Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 134, 136–141, respectively.

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second treaty with Philip on the one hand, and the first Roman treaty with Philip, or the peace of Phoenice (205), along with the Roman peace treaty with Carthage (201) and Rome’s renewed treaty with Perseus, Philip’s son and successor on the other. It is true that the Roman treaty with the Aetolians, which was an equal military alliance (211), and the first Roman treaty with Philip (or the peace of Phoenice), which was a peace treaty (205), enumerated those Greeks that were adscripti to these treaties on the Roman side. However, do references to these treaties allow us to think of the second Roman treaty with Philip in the same terms? The idea that the Romans fulfilled Lampsacus’s desire to preserve its status by including the city on the list of Roman adscripti to the second Roman treaty with Philip, which for some reason has not survived, raises several questions. These include the question of the status of the Roman adscripti. Attempts to consider Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice as Roman allies with treaties of alliance have failed. One of the most prominent such attempts was based on the case of Athens: allegedly, the appeal of Roman allies—among them, Athens—drew Rome into the second war against Philip. Hence, the idea of the Athenian embassy supposedly being sent to Rome for help has been rejected by many, including Karl-Ernst Petzold, who spoke about the “Annalisten-Gesandschaft” and about “die appianische Tradition” which he opposed to the text of Polybios that makes no mention of the Athenian embassy. According to Polybios, however, Lepidus accused Philip V of having attacked Athens as well as some other cities, such as Chius and Abydus. Therefore, the embassy from Athens, which probably indeed took place, did not have to be connected with the peace of Phoenice: the Athenians could have asked Rome for help, irrespective of that treaty, thus giving the Romans an additional chance to put a check on Philip’s activities. And Appian tells us that Philip ravaged Attica and besieged Athens, “on the ground that none of these countries concerned the Romans.”

109. Bickerman, “Rom,” 289–292; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 136–139; Liv. 29.12.14, 42.23.4 (see also in Staatsverträge 3, no. 548), 42.25.4, respectively. 110. Liv. 31.1.10; App. Mac. 4, and also nn. 3 and 78 above. 111. Mommsen, Geschichte, 1:702; Bengtson, Geschichte, 476; Bickerman, “Bellum Philippicum,” 140–144. 112. App. Mac. 4.2; Paus. 1.36.6. See Holleaux, Études, 5:9–28 (who was the first to raise and examine this matter in detail) with a list of later bibliography, supplied by Robert (9 n. 1). 113. Petzold, Eröffnung, 73, 82, 110–113. Polyb. 16.27.2, 16.34.3. Pace A. M. Eckstein, Mediterranean Anarchy, Interstate War, and the Rise of Rome (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2006), 260–261. 114. Polyb. 16.34.5; App. Mac. 4.1–2. This embassy: Habicht, Athens, 198.

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Another reinterpretation concerns the inclusion of Athens on the list of Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice. This information has been similarly rejected as a retrospective fabrication of the “annalistic tradition.” Objections to this criticism have been made with reference to the text of Zonaras, a very late author, which tells us about the “friendship” (philia) between Rome and Athens in 228. But do we have to believe Zonaras? And what was the meaning of this “friendship” in Zonaras’s text? Livy’s information about generous Roman rewards to Rhodes and Athens after the Second Macedonian war has been labeled, therefore, an “annalistic” invention as well, which, in the opinion of Edwin W. Carawan, served a need of the Romans to counter accusations of having used the slogan of freedom in their own interests. However, if a reference to a generous reward to the Athenians by Rome was indeed an “annalistic” invention, this invention could as well have reflected a retrospective Roman desire to present the appeal of Athens as Rome’s main reason to go to war against Philip. In any case, it is very unlikely that Athens could have had a “formal treaty” with Rome at that time. And, even if listing Athens (and Ilium, as some thought) among the Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice was an invention of “annalistic tradition,” this explanation alone offers no indication as to the status of (other) adscripti on the same list. As for Asia Minor, besides Attalos I (the king of the Pergamene kingdom), only Ilium was mentioned, and only by Livy, in the peace of Phoenice. We do not know what the relationship was between Ilium and Rome at that time. In addition, as we have seen earlier, some have doubted the historical validity of this evidence and believed that Ilium was included on the list of the adscripti to the peace of 205 “in retrospect” and as a reflection of the myth about the origin of

115. Liv. 29.12.14. Homo, “Flamininus,” 271; Holleaux, Rome, 265–271; Wałek-Czernecki, “Origines,” 375, with Holleaux, Études, 4:43–48 and 5:25; A. Passerini, in Athenaeum, n.s., 9 (1931): 542; Heuss, “Ostpolitik,” 341, 345; J. A. O. Larsen, “The Peace of Phoenice and the Outbreak of the Second Messenian War,” CP 32 (1937): 18–22, 25; McDonald and Walbank, “Origins,” 180–182, 197–203; J.-L. Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans, la Grèce et l’Orient au IIe siècle av. J.-C.,” in Rome et la conquête du monde méditerranéen 264–27 avant J.-C., ed. Cl. Nicolet. vol. 2 (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1978), 736; Ch. D. Hamilton, in Ancient Macedonia (Thessalonika: Hidryma Meleton, 1989), 5(1):560; Habicht, Athens, 198; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 114, 210. 116. Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 68, 168; Bickerman, “Bellum Philippicum,” 142; Petzold, Eröffnung, 29, 71–73; Accame, Roma, 91–92. See also Balsdon, “Rome and Macedon,” 32–34; Raditsa, “Bella Macedonica,” 571–572. 117. Zonar. 8.19.7 (= 2, p. 170 Niebuhr). 118. Liv. 33.30.11. E.g., Homo, “Flamininus,” 271; Carawan, “Graecia,” 230, 252. 119. Further bibliography: Heuss, Grundlagen, 40 n. 1. See more recently, e.g., Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 114. 120. Pace Larsen, “Peace of Phoenice,” 25. But see p. 18 on the Roman adscripti without treaties.

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Rome. Nothing implies that the Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice had (or had to have) any formal treaty with Rome—the classification of Roman partners has been debated: some, following Mommsen, distinguish “friends” (amici), “allies” (socii), and “friends and allies” (amici sociique) as three separate classes, thus presenting “friends and allies” as a special category, whereas others think of “friends and allies” as another designation of “friends” and, therefore, as a “rhetorical pleonasm” that had no established legal content. Everybody seems to agree, however, that “friends” could either have had or not had treaties with Rome, whereas “allies” were supposed to have such treaties. Furthermore, Livy says that the Romans had no allied cities in Asia Minor in 205, and that Nabis established a friendship with Rome only in 197 and probably even later. The former statement by Livy, which undermines the idea that the Romans started their second war against Philip on behalf of Roman allies, has been dismissed as an “annalistic falsification.” It appears, therefore, that Livy both justified the Second Macedonian war by the help of Rome to her allies and rejected that the Romans had any allies in (Greece and) Asia Minor at that time, and that modern historiography would continue to share these contradictory opinions. As for Nabis, in 195 he claimed that a “most ancient treaty” existed between him and Rome, which Flamininus refuted by saying that the Romans only had amicitia et societas with Pelops. Here, too, amicitia et societas should have meant a “friendship” that did not necessarily have to be based on a formal treaty. Further in Livy’s text, Flamininus referred to both Sparta and Messenia as having become Roman

121. Heuss, “Amicitia,” 41. For this legend, see also, in general, E. S. Gruen, Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome (Ithaca, N.Y., and New York: Cornell University Press, 1992), 6–51 (“The Making of the Trojan Legend”); Habicht, Athens, 195–196 (incl. 195: the mention of Ilium in the peace of Phoenice was “an obvious interpolation”); A. Erskine, Troy between Greece and Rome: Local Tradition and Imperial Power (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 122. As Petzold, Eröffnung, 24–26. Pace Baronowski, “Treaties,” 188 (the adscripti to the peace of Phoenice were not “treaty-bound allies”). Useful summaries: Magie, Rule, 744–745; Will, Histoire, 2:81–82. 123. Mommsen, Staatsrecht, 3:591–597, 659–661. 124. L. E. Matthaei, “On the Classification of Roman Allies,” CQ 1 (1907): 182–204; Heuss, “Amicitia,” 26; Heuss, Grundlagen, 26; Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 195; Petzold, Eröffnung, 20–21; Magie, Rule, 960–961 n. 76; D. A. Bowman, in Classical Journal 85 (1990): 332, 336. 125. Heuss, “Amicitia,” 31, 36–37; Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 195; D. W. Baronowski, “Livy, Book 45: Historical Commentary on Study of Sources” (M.A. thesis, University of British Columbia, 1974), 141, 146; D. W. Baronowski, “Sub umbra foederis aequi,” Phoenix 44 (1990): 358–359; M. R. Cimma, Reges socii et amici populi Romani (Milan: Giuffrè, 1976), 21, 28–32, 81–83, 89–90, 169. 126. Liv. 29.11.1: Nullasdum in Asia socias civitates habebat populus Romanus, 32.39.10. 127. E.g., Accame, Roma, 91. 128. E.g., Liv. 31.6.1 (see n. 3 above). On this “annalistic tradition”: n. 115 above. 129. Liv. 34.31.5, 34.32.1. For Nabis’s status, see next chapter.

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“friends” by “the one and the same right of treaty.” The latter expression (uno atque eodem iure foederis) has been interpreted in more than one way: Heuss saw it as a reference to the “treaty of Laevinus” (212) and connected this statement by Flamininus with the Roman claim that Rome had concluded a “friendship and alliance” not with Nabis but with Pelops, whereas Larsen presented this “treaty” as the treaty between Nabis and Rome and, more recently, Baronowski interpreted ius foederis as a clause in the Roman-Aetolian treaty. Heuss’s proposal cannot be confirmed by any further evidence. As for Larsen’s view (that Flamininus was speaking about the treaty between Rome and Nabis), why, then, did Flamininus also mention Messenia here? If we return to the words of Flamininus, as presented by Livy, the expression uno atque eodem iure foederis does not necessarily refer to “one and the same treaty,” which has been the accepted understanding of this phrase. Rather, these words emphasize that Sparta and Messenia held the same status with respect to Rome: both states had “one and the same right by a treaty” with Rome. Livy uses this expression elsewhere in the sense of “the scope of the treaty” (i.e., either “treaty rights” or “treaty obligation”), as, for example, when he deals with the status of Saguntum and with the treaty between the Aetolians and the Romans (which stipulated that if either side made a separate treaty with Philip V, the latter treaty should include certain “obligations” with respect to the other side as well); or when he asserts that Rome’s protection of her allies constituted “treaty obligations”; or when he refers to the island of Cephallania as being placed outside “the scope of the treaty” between Rome and the Aetolians in 189; or when he mentions how in 172 the Romans urged Perseus to leave those territories, which he allegedly held in circumvention of his treaty with Rome. Therefore, this phrase should be explained in its context: Flamininus accuses Nabis of having Sparta attack a state that had the same status with Rome as did Sparta herself. We see similar cases elsewhere. For example, the peace treaty between Rome and Carthage in 201 both acknowledged the Carthaginians as Roman “friends and allies” and prohibited them from attacking other Roman

130. Liv. 34.32.16: nam et Messenen, uno atque eodem iure foederis quo et Lacedaemonem in amicitiam nostram acceptam, socius ipse sociam nobis urbem vi atque armis cepisti. 131. Heuss, “Amicitia,” 44–45; D. Mendels, “A Note on the Speeches of Nabis,” SCI 4 (1978): 39: “this amicitia ac societas was renewed [in 197], according to Nabis,” with reference to Liv. 34.32.16 (see preceding note). 132. Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 210–212; Larsen, “Peace of Phoenice,” 16. See Grainger, War, 180; Baronowski, “Treaties,” 189–190 (with bibliography). 133. Liv. 21.19.1, 26.22.12–13, 38.9.11, 42.25.7. Cf., e.g., Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 56: the Spartans “joined the new alliance, as did the Messenians around the same time”; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 122 (“informal ties of friendship”), 123.

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“friends.” This clause would be used by the Romans in the mid-second century as the pretext to completely destroy Carthage. Another such episode occurred in 198, when the envoys of Attalos complained to the senate that, even while Pergamene forces were helping the Romans against Philip, Antiochos was invading the kingdom of the Attalids. The pompous response of the senate included the statement that Antiochos “would oblige the senate by keeping away from the kingdom of Attalos and refraining from war, and that it was proper that kings who were allies and friends of the Roman people should likewise be at peace with one another.” The fact that Antiochos and Attalos occupied the same status with respect to Rome does not mean, of course, that the Romans had established this status by one and the same treaty. A similar conclusion follows from Flamininus’s words to Nabis: Sparta and Messenia were not supposed to fight against each other because they had the same relationship with Rome; Flamininus does not say that this relationship was established by one and the same treaty. Allegedly, it is the fact that Sparta and Messenia occupied the same status that made it possible to put these two states on the list of the Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice. This interpretation, in turn, raises two closely connected problems: namely, whether Nabis had a treaty with Rome, and what status Nabis held with the Romans in 205 and in 195. It is hard to say whether Flamininus’s words (socius ipse sociam nobis urbem vi atque armis cepisti) implied that both Sparta and Messenia had the same status in 195 as they did in 205. Nor was it necessary for an adscriptus to have a formal treaty with Rome. Some chance exists, therefore, that Nabis could have made a treaty with Rome following the peace of Phoenice in 205. In this case, the treaty between Nabis and Rome could have been established in 197. The text of Livy provides somewhat ambiguous evidence, however. Livy refers to the “friendship” between Rome and Nabis, which was established in 197 or soon thereafter, and, at the same time, shows that Nabis’s only defense against Rome in 195 was the Roman fides socialis. Larsen’s idea that the treaty of 197 was “an agreement negotiated by Flamininus personally and not a formal treaty ratified with Rome” has no support either. In fact, further in his

134. App. Pun. 54 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 548, pp. 297–298. 135. Liv. 32.8.16. See S. Dmitriev, “Antiochos III: a friend and ally of the Roman people,” Klio 93 (2011), forthcoming. 136. Liv. 29.12.14. 137. Liv. 34.32.16 (see n. 130 above). 138. Heuss, “Amicitia,” 45 (“die Allianz”); Eckstein, Senate, 304, and R. Bernhardt, Rom und die Städte des hellenistischen Ostens (3.-1. Jahrhundert v. Chr.). Literaturbericht 1965–1995 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1998), 37. 139. Liv. 32.39.10–32.40.2 (197 b.c.) and 34.31.3–4 (195 b.c.; see p. 240, n. 84).

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text he noted that “when Nabis attacked Messene, both were Roman socii by virtue of existing treaties.” However, regardless of whether Sparta had the same status in 195 as in 205, or whether Nabis established a treaty with Rome in the period from 205 to 195, it is clear that he did not have a treaty with Rome in 205. Therefore, Nabis (as well as Messenia and probably at least some other Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice) was counted among those Roman “friends and allies” who did not have treaties with Rome. A similar status would be held by Attalos, the Rhodians, and Antiochos III. Nor does it necessarily follow that the treaty between Rome and Perseus, as we see it in the text of Livy, can help us to better understand the second Roman treaty with Philip. It is true that the treaty between Rome and Perseus protected Roman “allies” against potential Macedonian aggression, which corresponds with the declared objectives of the Second Macedonian war. Those who adhere to this line of thought have usually referred to Perseus’s expulsion of king Abroupolis from the latter’s kingdom in 179, as we read in the pre-war list of Roman accusations against Perseus and in the speech of Eumenes II before the senate in 172. In particular, Eumenes accused Perseus of having crossed the borders of the Macedonian kingdom in arms, which Eumenes presented as Perseus’s violation of the treaty that had been concluded between Rome and Philip V, and then confirmed by Perseus once he ascended to the throne of Macedonia in 179. Because this clause would serve to justify the Roman aggression against Perseus, such evidence has been interpreted as later “annalistic” interpolations. However, Roman foreign policy always accompanied limiting of vanquished political powers to their old geographic borders with the prohibition of such powers crossing these borders in arms. This is what we see in the Roman treaty with the Carthaginians in 306;

140. Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 202 n. 45, 211. 141. Attalos: Liv. 29.11.2. The Rhodians: Polyb. 16.35.1–2 (“friendship”), 30.31.20 (treaty). Antiochos III: Liv. 32.8.13–16 and 33.20.8: Antiochos as a “friend and ally of the Roman people” in 198; cf. Liv. 34.57.6 (with 34.57.7–9) and App. Syr. 12: Antiochos seeks a treaty with Rome in 193. See next chapter for more detail. 142. Liv. 42.25.4. 143. Liv. 31.6.1 (see n. 3 above); Iust. 30.3.6. 144. The restoration of this inscription, suggested by Alexander V. Nikitsky, was reproduced in Syll. 643 (= Sherk, Documents, no. 40.A).13–14 (171 b.c.). A different restoration, offered by G. Colin: F.Delphes III, 4, no. 75 (= Sherk, Documents, no. 40.B), does not concern this part of the text. 145. Liv. 42.13.5; followed by Bickermann, “Les préliminaires,” 74–75. 146. Liv. 42.13.4; see Liv. 42.25.4 and Polyb. 18.44 with Walbank, Commentary, 2:609–612. 147. E.g., Nissen, Untersuchungen, 146–147; Holleaux, Études, 5:104–120; Petzold, Eröffnung, 92; E. S. Gruen, “The Last Years of Philip V,” GRBS 15 (1974): 226; Rich, War, 89; Baronowski, “Treaties,” 355; J. Briscoe, in Livius: Aspekte seines Werke, ed. W. Schuller (Konstanz: Universitätsverlag Konstanz, 1993), 39.

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Roman agreements with the Illyrians in 228 and with the Carthaginians in 226 and 202; with Philip V in 197–196; with Antiochos III in 188; and with the Galatians, when their “freedom” and “autonomy” was confirmed by Rome in 166. Does this evidence alone prove that the second Roman treaty with Philip contained a list of adscripti and protected their status? We do not know how or when Perseus arranged the expulsion of Abroupolis: other existing accounts of this event—by Polybios and Diodoros—make no reference to a break in the treaty. Furthermore, we read elsewhere that Perseus refused to offer military help to those Greek cities (such as Coronea and Haliartus) that had requested it, thus doing his best to comply with the treaty, which he had inherited from his father. Perseus’s refusal to help Coronea and Haliartus was prompted by the previously mentioned clauses prohibiting the kings of Macedonia to cross the borders of their kingdom in arms. Thus it is still questionable whether the expulsion of Abroupolis by Perseus proves the presence of the list of adscripti in the second treaty between Rome and Philip V. Additionally, the treaty of 197 was renewed after the ascendancy of Perseus, that is, in or soon after 179, when the situation in Asia Minor, including the relationships between Rome and the local Greek cities, had been transformed considerably. Appian reports that Flamininus’s declaration was followed by Greek embassies to Rome, which came to offer golden crowns to the Capitoline gods and to enlist their cities as allies of the Roman state. It is only after this point in time that agreements between the Romans and the Greeks emerged in any significant numbers. The cities of Asia Minor only joined this trend later. Livy’s words, therefore, should be approached with caution: it is simply not certain as to what extent the treaty that Rome renewed with Perseus in, or soon after, 179 was similar to the second Roman treaty with Philip V. We now return to the second treaty between Rome and Philip V and, in particular, to the position of Lampsacus with respect to Rome. Bickermann, whom Ferrary also wanted to enlist among his supporters, had correctly admitted that neither Lampsacus nor any other Greek city of Asia is known to have been a

148. For 306: Serv. ad Aen. 4.628 with Schmitt’s commentary in Staatsverträge 3, no. 438. For 228: Polyb. 2.12.3, 3.16.3. For 226: Polyb. 3.29.3. For 202: Polyb. 15.18.1–8 and Liv. 30.37.1–6, 42.23.3 and C. Marek, in Chiron 7 (1977): 1–7. For 197–196: Liv. 42.13.4 and 42.25.4. For 188: Polyb. 21.42.4, 14, 24 with Liv. 38.38.3–4, 9 and App. Syr. 39. For 166: Polyb. 30.28. See also Badian, Clientelae, 82–83. 149. Polyb. 22.18.1–3 and Diod. 29.33. 150. Liv. 42.46.9–10. 151. Polyb. 25.3.1; Liv. 41.24.6, 42.30.10. 152. App. Mac. 9.4.

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“friend” or “ally” of Rome in 197–196. When, in response to the possibility of Antiochos’s advance in Greece in 193, Rome threatened to strengthen her existing “friendships” (amicitiae) with the Greek cities of Asia and to establish new ones, the word “friendship” was used in a general sense because, according to Livy, even Lampsacus asked for the Roman amicitia much later, in 170. Only then could the Lampsacenes expect to be specifically provided for in a treaty between Rome and her adversaries (in this case, Perseus). Since there were no serious threats to Lampsacus’s security at this time, some have questioned the validity of Livy’s words. This appeal to the Romans could have been a political move by the Lampsacenes, however: if we do not have a doublet, Lampsacus again offered the Romans a good casus belli, as we saw in the case of the Roman war against Antiochos and, similarly, asked for guarantees in case the Romans made a treaty of peace with their adversary. After his defeat at Thermopylae, Antiochos offered to retire from Lampsacus, Smyrna, and Alexandria Troas, as well as from those cities of Aeolis and Ionia that “had made a common cause with Rome.” None of these, nor any other Greek cities of Asia, is documented as having had any formal relations with the Romans even in 191. Thus the idea that they had such relations in 197–196 is even less likely. Another important problem to consider with regard to the negotiations between the Romans and Lampsacus and the content of the second Roman treaty with Philip has been the absence of any evidence for adscripti (including the people of Lampsacus) to this treaty, which has produced several major reinterpretations. One of them has been that Polybios and Livy used the text not of the treaty but of the senatus consultum. What Livy says is that “the ten commissioners arrived from Rome, and with their approval peace was granted to Philip on the following terms” (quorum ex consilio pax data Philippo in has leges est), which

153. Bickermann, “Rom,” 292–293; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 136. 154. Liv. 34.58.2–3; Badian, Clientelae, 74. 155. Liv. 43.6.9; V. Ferrenbach, “Die amici populi Romani republikanischer Zeit” (diss., Strassburg: Kayser, 1895), 64; Magie, Rule, 960 n. 76; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 222. 156. H. Nissen, Kritische Untersuchungen über die Quellen der vierten und fünften Dekade des Livius (Beriln: Weidmann, 1863), 257–258. 157. Holleaux, Études, 4:266–267; P. Meloni, Perseo e la fine della monarchia Macedone (Rome: Bretschneider, 1953), 266. 158. See Liv. 43.6.9: et, si pax cum Perseo fieret, exciperentur, ne in regiam potestatem reciderent. 159. Polyb. 21.14.2: ὅσαι τυγχάνουσιν ᾑρημέναι τὰ Ῥωμαίων. 160. There seems to have been a certain amount of confusion among the opinions. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 138 n. 23, allegedly following Larsen, argued that Livy used the text of the treaty itself. However, Larsen (“Treaty,” 342–344) thought that Polybios (18.44) and Livy (33.30) contained “summaries of a senatus consultum,” whereas Livy’s text alone (33.30.1) leaves it unclear whether Livy meant the treaty or the senatus consultum.

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does not necessarily refer to the senatus consultum. At the same time, Polybios, a Greek, actually spoke of the senatus consultum that the Ten brought to Greece. It is quite obvious, however, that the senatus consultum, as such, could not serve as a substitute for a peace treaty: first it had to be approved by the comitia. Polybios most likely inferred, therefore, that this senatus consultum had merely been approved by the people and thus the senatus consultum became a peace treaty in fact. For this reason, any major details and provisions included in the treaty came from the senatus consultum. Irrespective of terminological nuances, if Livy referred to the text of the second treaty between Rome and Philip, as Ferrary postulated (quite unlike Larsen, who seems to have sensed the potential danger of such a statement), why did Livy not provide us with the lists of the adscripti to this treaty, as he did for the first treaty between them, i.e., that of Phoenice in 205? Another such reinterpretation concerns the nature of the senatus consultum. Because Polybios (and Livy, according to Larsen) likely used the text of the senatus consultum, and even said that the Ten brought the senatus consultum to Greece, Larsen had to reinterpret the interrelationship between the senatus consultum and the treaty voted for by the comitia. Larsen tried to solve two alleged contradictions. The first was between the ratification of the “definite treaty” (in Larsen’s words) by the people and the fact that Flamininus and the Ten were required to cooperate “in drawing up the conditions of peace.” The second was between what should have been in the treaty (judging by the evidence concerning developments before and during the second Roman conflict against Philip V) but was not mentioned in the senatus consultum, as we know it. Larsen’s explanation was that the treaty of peace included “points that did not need clarification” (such as Illyria, “probably because Philip had already been expelled from the places in question”) and points that were “allowed to become dead letter” (such as Ptolemaic possessions, which could have been seized by Antiochos). Therefore, Larsen concluded, another senatus consultum existed, which “regulated application of the treaty” and “amplified the treaty when necessary.” But even if Philip had already lost control over these territories, their status needed to be established, and the final

161. Liv. 33.30.2; Polyb. 18.44.2, 18.45.1–3. 162. Cf. Liv. 33.25.7. 163. Liv. 29.12.14. 164. Larsen, “Treaty,” 343–344. The ratification by the comitia: Polyb. 18.42.4 (see n. 92 above); Liv. 33.25.4–7. Cf. Liv. 33.24.7 and 33.30.1. 165. Larsen, “Treaty,” 345. 166. Larsen, “Treaty,” 345, 348. Cf. a similar idea by Homo, “Flamininus,” 266–267.

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arrangement had to include Philip’s renouncing his claims to them. And, then, there is no evidence for the existence of a second senatus consultum, that is, one issued after the treaty was voted on by the people. It is reasonable to suggest that the senate laid down the main lines of the settlement in only one senatus consultum (which was brought to a popular vote and eventually became the treaty) and authorized Flamininus and the Ten to implement the treaty’s provisions in the way they thought best protected the interests of the Roman state. Livy uses the same language that appears in other such cases, when Roman officials received discretion (fides) for decision making, provided these decisions corresponded to the best interests of Rome: id e re publica fideque sua facere ac statuere iussi erant. Like the general, the Ten, who were elected “according to the ancestral custom,” had a certain degree of necessary leeway for adjusting the terms of the treaty to local realities. In both cases, such local arrangements were to be followed, eventually, by “formal senatorial ratification,” as happened with the measures implemented by Flamininus and the Ten in Greece, which were ratified by the senate in the spring of 193. Hence, we see the cause of future disagreements between Flamininus and the Ten (including those concerning the status of many Greek cities) and their appeals to the senate for arbitration. There are no grounds, therefore, to follow Larsen’s lead by concluding that “the clause in the senatus consultum concerning the freedom of the Greeks was not a part of the treaty.” Polybios also says that upon obtaining the popular vote, the senate elected ten commissioners and sent them to manage Greek affairs in conjunction with Flamininus and to help assure “the freedom of the Greeks.” Finally, Bickermann has offered another major reinterpretation of evidence, by establishing the meaning of συμπεριληφθῶμεν—from the previously quoted honorific decree by Lampsacus for Hegesias—as “taking part” or “participating,” which, in his opinion and in the opinion of those who have followed him, meant that Rome pledged to protect the independence and freedom of her allies by including them as signatories in the treaty. It is hardly possible, however, that

167. Polyb. 18.42.3: εἰς δὲ τὸν δῆμον εἰσενεχθέντος τοῦ διαβουλίου and 4 (see n. 92 above); Liv. 33.25.7. 168. As Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy Books XXXI–XXXIII, 295: “within the terms of the senatus consultum”; cf. IG IX.2, 89b (= Syll. 674 = Sherk, Documents, no. 96).51–54 (see n. 102 above). 169. Liv. 33.31.5. Cf. Liv. 25.7.4, 28.45.8; Gell. 15.11.1 (see p. 164, n. 128). 170. Liv. 33.24.7. The practice of appointing commissioners: Schleussner, Legaten, 9–100. 171. Eckstein, Senate, 294–295, 312–313; Liv. 34.57.1–2. 172. Larsen, “Treaty,” 348. Polyb. 18.42.5: καὶ βεβαιώσοντας τοˆι ς Ἕλλησι τὴν ἐλευθερίαν. 173. I.Lampsakos 4 (= Syll. 591 = IGR IV 179 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 195–198, no. 236e).63–67 (see n. 103 above). Bickerman, “Rom,” 280–281, 286–295; Magie, “City-States,” 165; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 621 n. 42; Wilhelm, “Beschlusse,” 84; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 198.

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the Lampsacenes expected the Romans to acknowledge Lampsacus as an equal party in the Roman treaty with the King. Nor do we have evidence to support this view. Whereas (συμ)περιλαμβάνειν was indeed a juridical term used by “Hellenistic chancelleries,” this word, quite like the Latin adscribere, designated “adding (someone) to” or “including (someone) in” the treaty, thus indicating the secondary status of this someone in comparison with the actual signatories to the treaty. In fact, all the evidence that we have for the use of this word, and we do not seem to have much, testifies to its designating a third party being added to the treaty, which was concluded between two main parties. For example, the proposed peace treaty between Athens and Philip II was to include the allies on either side (συμπεριλαμβάνοντας καὶ τοὺς ἑκατέρων συμμάχους), whereas Philip’s alleged letters to the people of Athens claimed that the Phocians and Selymbrians had not been included in his treaty with Athens. Likewise, Pyrrhos of Epirus offered to include the Tarentines in his treaty with Rome, in order to protect them against future Roman aggression. And the Romans themselves justified their stance concerning Saguntum by claiming that their treaty with Carthage offered protection to not only the allies that either side had at the moment when the treaty was signed but also to those that were to be added at a later date (τοὺς ὕστερον προσληφθέντας τούτων τῶν συνθηκῶν), since the treaty had no special clause denying protection to those who would join the Carthaginian or Roman allies afterward (μετὰ ταῦτα προσληφθησομένοις). The closest parallel to the Greek συμπεριλαμβάνειν appears to have been the Latin (foedere) comprehensum esse that we find in legal documents, such as the already quoted passage by Proculus, who distinguished between the community with an “equal treaty” with Rome and the one “subscribed” to the treaty. However, because the Lampsacenes claimed that “the senate included [them] in the agreements with the king, just as they themselves write,” without making reference to the text of the treaty itself, we simply do not know in what way the treaty protected their status. Surprisingly, what has not received any attention in debates about the contents of this treaty is that the presence or absence of the adscripti also depended on the nature of the treaty. An equal treaty could include (though it did not necessarily have to, of course) lists of the adscripti on both sides, thus making clear whose

174. Bickerman, “Rom,” 278; Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 66; P. Treves, in Les Études Classiques 9 (1940): 164 n. 3. 175. Dem. 18.29, 39, 77; App. Sam. 10.1 (see n. 179 below); Polyb. 3.29.5–7. 176. Procul., Dig. 49.15.7.1 (sive aequo foedere in amicitiam venit sive foedere comprehensum est). Baronowski, “Treaties,” 186, directly identified συμπεριλαμβάνειν ἐν ταˆι ς συνθήκαις with the Latin adscriptio. 177. I.Lampsakos 4 (= Syll. 591 = IGR IV 179 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 195–198, no. 236e).34.

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protection was to be secured (and offering a casus belli as well), as was the case of the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 211 and the treaty that sealed the peace of Phoenice in 205. However, the treaty that ended the Second Macedonian war was an outcome of Philip’s defeat. It is out of place to establish a parallel between this treaty and equal treaties (such as those that have just been mentioned) and to use this as the basis to argue for the existence of a list of adscripti on both sides in the treaty of 197. The latter treaty was an agreement between the victor and the vanquished. How could someone in Philip’s position have a list of adscripti, whose status and security were to be guaranteed by the treaty? It would be appropriate here to look at the proposal of a treaty that Pyrrhos made to the Romans (through his emissary), having twice defeated them in battle. According to Appian, “[H]e offered them peace, friendship, and an alliance with Pyrrhos, provided that they included the Tarentines in the same treaty (εἰ Tαραντίνους μὲν ἐς ταῦτα συμπεριλάβοιεν), left the other Greeks dwelling in Italy free under their own laws (ἐλευθέρους καὶ αὐτονόμους), and restored to the Lucanians, Samnites, Daunii, and Bruttians whatever they had taken from them in war.” It is quite obvious that Pyrrhos, who had been invited to Italy by the Tarentines, wanted to guarantee Tarentum’s security by specifically including it in his treaty with Rome. This provision did not mean, however, that Tarentum was to become a signatory of the peace treaty. Although a special status was suggested for them, the Tarentines were a third party, like others mentioned by Pyrrhos; hence Appius Claudius’s reference to Pyrrhos as “judge” and “arbitrator” for the Romans. Nor were the Romans supposed to have their own adscripti to the treaty with Pyrrhos, at least judging by Appian’s text, because, among other things, they had lost to Pyrrhos. Finally, Pyrrhos’s proposal reflected the old Greek diplomatic practice, in which the same arrangements could have included both the list(s) of the adscripti and a general declaration of “freedom” and “autonomy,” as was the case, for example, in the “charter” of the Second Athenian Confederacy or in Philip’s League of Corinth. Such alliances undertook to protect the status of their participating members and the status, that is, autonomy and freedom, of all Greeks in general. Because of the nature of his new status, Philip was not supposed to have his adscripti listed in his second treaty with Rome. It is still possible that this treaty

178. Liv. 26.24.8–15 and 29.12.14, respectively. 179. App. Sam. 10.1. 180. App. Sam. 10.2: Ῥωμαίοις δικαστὴν ἢ διαιτητήν.

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contained the list of the Roman adscripti (Roman treaties with defeated enemies could have included specific clauses protecting Roman allies). But the presence of such a list seems doubtful because we have no such evidence, and neither Lampsacus nor any other city in Asia Minor was known to be a Roman “friend” or “ally” at that time, probably with the exception of Ilium: this city is also mentioned among Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice, even though doubts were expressed by Bickermann, who still accepted this information, and Larsen and Habicht, who refuted this evidence. However, the Lampsacenes praised Hegesias for securing Roman protection to their city against “the kings.” Bickermann’s attempt to solve this puzzle by referring to the clause protecting Roman allies at the beginning of the treaty between Rome and Carthage does not convince: as he himself acknowledged, no Greek city of Asia, including Lampsacus, had established relations with Rome in 197–196. He, therefore, tried to explain the alleged discrepancy between the wishes of the Lampsacenes to have their autonomy guaranteed by Rome in her treaties with “the kings” (which, as far as we know from the inscription for Hegesias, they thought to have been fulfilled) and the actual context of the treaty or the senatus consultum (which, as Livy and Polybios inform us, spoke of Greek “autonomy” and “freedom” only in general terms) as a misunderstanding between Rome and Lampsacus. This statement can hardly be substantiated, however, on the basis of the existing evidence. The nature of the protection offered by the second Roman treaty with Philip to the people of Lampsacus can be explained by referring to earlier Greek treaties of Peace, including the King’s Peace, the Peace of 375, and the Sparta Peace. All of them safeguarded the status of individual cities that were neither signatories to nor participants in those treaties. Other treaties of Peace not only upheld the freedom and autonomy of all Greeks in general but also protected the freedom and autonomy of member states in the military alliance of the party that authorized that particular Peace. Such were the Athens Peace, probably the failed Thebes Peace (or the Peace of Pelopidas), the peace of Philocrates (if the second suggested amendment would have been implemented), and the Macedonian Peace established by Philip II and inherited by Alexander. The second Roman peace treaty with Philip V also both listed those cities that Philip had to evacuate and proclaimed the

181. E.g., the peace treaty between Rome and Carthage in 201: Liv. 42.23.4 and App. Pun. 54 = Staatsverträge, 3, no. 548, pp. 297–298 (see n. 134 above). 182. Bickermann, “Les préliminaires,” 68; Larsen, “Peace of Phoenice,” 16, 25; Habicht, Athens, 195–196. 183. Bickermann, “Rom,” 289, 294–298; P. Frisch, in I.Lampsakos (Bonn: Habelt, 1978), 26. 184. [Dem.] 17.8: ἐπιτάττει ἡ συνθήκη εὐθὺς ἐν ἀρχῇ ἐλευθέρους εἶναι καὶ αὐτονόμους τοὺς ‘Έλληνας.

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slogan of Greek freedom, which extended to all Greek cities that were “free” at that moment in time. The Lampsacenes, therefore, could claim the protection of their status by the Romans without either posing as Roman adscripti to the treaty or establishing any formal relations with the Romans. Because the Romans were using the slogan of freedom for the first time and protecting the interests of Lampsacus in this way, we are left to assume that it was the ambassadors of Lampsacus, probably together with those of Smyrna and other Greek cities, who had revealed to the Romans the advantages of using this slogan. One of the advantages pointed out should have been that the slogan offered more space for political maneuvering than formal agreements between Rome and individual Greek cities would have allowed. It might be that the cities themselves did not want either to provoke Antiochos’s displeasure by concluding formal agreements with his potential rival in the west or to bind their hands by any formal commitment to Rome. In the latter case, the Greek cities of Asia could occupy the same position as the Rhodians, who preferred to remain “friends” of Rome without establishing any formal treaty for as long as they could. At any rate, the absence of formal treaties was another reflection of Rome’s precarious position in Greek affairs in 197–191: the Romans claimed to be defending the freedom and independence of Greek cities that appear to have had no legal agreement with Rome. Because relations between Rome and Antiochos III remained uncertain, the peace treaty between Rome and Philip V in 197 was accompanied by a declaration of freedom, that is, similar to the peace treaty between Sparta and Athens, which acquired the form of the treaties of Peace in 386, 375, and 371 and which maintained the political balance in Greece by protecting the status of all Greek cities. This purpose could also have been implied, of course, but the Roman declaration of freedom was aimed primarily against Antiochos, as follows from two observations. The first of them is that this declaration was of a general nature and also applied to other Greeks, including those in Asia Minor who could hardly be threatened by Philip in those circumstances. The second observation concerns the actual Roman treaty with Philip, in 196, which protected the Greeks against Philip in a different way, namely, by requiring him to remove his garrisons from designated places, by establishing geographic limits to his rule, and by prohibiting him to cross them “in arms,” in the traditional Roman fashion. This was also the case of the

185. Liv. 45.25.9: nam ita per tot annos in amicitia fuerant (the Rhodians), ut sociali foedere se cum Romanis non illigarent: tunc utique petenda societas videbatur. 186. Hopital, “Traité,” 229 n. 68. 187. E.g., Polyb. 18.44; Liv. 42.25.4.

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next major peace treaty, between Rome and Antiochos in 188, which established political and geographic borders and imposed limits on Antiochos’s military activity. The Romans needed no declarations of Greek freedom at that time: they now had a firm foothold in Greek politics, and their domination of the Greek world was unchallenged. Lampsacus and Smyrna were God-sent to the Romans: they gave the Romans the idea of using the slogan of Greek freedom and offered themselves as Greeks of Asia whose freedom Rome declared to protect. Livy purposefully omitted the Romans’ unsuccessful attempt to use the complaints of Smyrna and Lampsacus at the conference at Lysimachea, which we see in Polybios’s text: Rome would present her later interference in the affairs of Asia as Rome’s unplanned and unselfish defense of Greek freedom. In particular, the Romans would later claim to have declared a war against Antiochos on behalf of Smyrna and Lampsacus, as well as Alexandria Troas, and Livy referred to Lampsacus and Smyrna as contending for their “freedom” during the war. The Roman claim to defend the freedom of the Greeks, as demonstrated by Flamininus’s declaration of 196 and his speech before the Greek representatives in 193 (as we shall see in the next chapter), served to legitimize the Roman war against Antiochos. This situation closely resembles what happened in 310, when Ptolemy started a war against Antigonos, accusing him of stepping on the freedom of Greek cities in violation of the declaration of 311, after Antigonos had garrisoned some of them for the purpose of protecting his territory in the conflict that everybody regarded as imminent. In both cases, it was the previously declared obligation to protect the freedom of the Greeks that justified starting a military action against one who was accused of having violated this freedom. The situation would change after the defeat of Antiochos, when no major power remained to challenge Roman leadership over the Greek world.

188. E.g., Polyb. 21.42. 189. Cf. Polyb. 18.52.1–5 (see pp. 207, n. 44, and 218, n. 115) and Liv. 33.39.2–33.41.5. Tränkle, Livius, 75–76, noted this discrepancy but left it without any explanation. He suggested that Livy concentrated on Smyrna and Lampsacus because their drive for freedom would justify later Roman intervention. Although correct on the whole, this statement does not explain why Livy omitted any reference to Smyrna and Lampsacus at the conference in Lysimachea. 190. Liv. 33.38.3–5; Polyb. 16.35.1–2 and 21.13.3. See also App. Syr. 1–2. Cf. Badian, Studies, 134, and Errington, Hellenistic World, 211, 215. 191. Liv. 33.38.3 (see n. 104 above). Cf. Errington, Hellenistic World, 209: “Defense of the free status of Smyrna and Lampsakos then became part of the Roman diplomatic arsenal towards Antiochos.” 192. Diod. 20.19.3.

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c onclusion The idea of Greek freedom was on the minds of many Greeks in the late third century. Attalos and Rhodes supported the Romans in their second war against Philip by using the slogan of Greek freedom in their appeal to the Aetolians to join the war. Before approaching the Aetolians, the Rhodians and Attalos had targeted Athens. When addressing the Athenians in his letter and urging them to join in the war against Philip, Attalos gave them his sworn assurance that “if they did not decide now upon nobly declaring that they shared the hostile sentiment of the Romans, the Rhodians and himself, but later, after neglecting this chance, wished to share in a peace (κοινωνεˆι ν βούλωνται τῆς εἰρήνης) due to the efforts of others, they would fail to obtain what lay in the interests of their country.” He coupled the idea of peace among the Greeks with the slogan of Greek freedom, thus following the traditional Greek approach that we had already seen in the fifth century b.c. Eumenes II and the Rhodians still connected “peace” and “freedom” when they spoke before the Roman senate following the final defeat of Antiochos, appealing to the Romans as authors of Greek freedom. Such evidence raises the question of whether the Romans and their supporters from among the Greeks shared the same vision as to the purpose of the Second Macedonian war and the principles of the post-war settlement. As far as we can tell from the available evidence, the Romans, who certainly were aware of the slogan of Greek freedom prior to 197, adopted the slogan into their policy in Greece only after the Second Macedonian war was over, whereas the Greeks were employing it from the very start. The idea of using the slogan of freedom came to the Romans from the Greeks, most probably during the negotiations between Lamspacus and Smyrna with Rome late in 197. Rome’s second peace treaty with Philip and the subsequent declaration of Flamininus were reflections of a change in Roman policy toward the Greeks. The Romans, who had neither justifiable grounds for interfering in Greek affairs nor formally established relations with any city in Asia Minor at that time, used the slogan of freedom to get a foothold in Greek politics while also securing the only possible casus belli against Antiochos’s advancement. The slogan of freedom thus served to maintain the political and

193. Liv. 31.15.10: si institissent Philippo, egregium liberatae per se Graeciae titulum habere potuissent. 194. Polyb. 16.26.6. Certainly nothing of this sort is reported in Livy’s description of the same event: 31.15.4, even though it has been generally agreed that Livy merely retold Polybios’s story: Ullrich, “De Polybii fontibus,” 40 (with 40–41 on the sources of Polybios’s account); cf. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy Books XXXI–XXXIII, 98. 195. Polyb. 21.19.5–9, 21.21.10, 21.23.7–12. For more detail, see chapter 8.

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military status quo, just as it had on many occasions when used in a similar fashion by the Greeks before the coming of Rome. The slogan of freedom was included in the senatus consultum that was ratified by the people, who thus turned it into a peace treaty. This treaty was different from the Roman treaty of alliance with the Aetolians (211) and the first Roman peace treaty with Philip, or the peace of Phoenice (205), in the sense that it did not have to include the list of adscripti. Philip, having been vanquished and sealed within the borders of the old Macedonian kingdom, could hardly have expected this treaty to offer any guarantees to his remaining allies (if any). As for the Romans, vowing to protect the freedom of the Greeks offered Rome a much better opportunity to have a say in Greek politics when the Romans had no treaties with the Greek cities of Asia Minor, and many Greeks questioned the right of the Romans to interfere in Greek affairs. The ten commissioners then delivered the senatus consultum to Flamininus. Philip was obliged to evacuate Greek cities by the “next Isthmian games” (i.e, in 196): it looks as if the senate intended to issue a public statement to the Greeks. Of course, we do not have to follow Plutarch in believing that Flamininus made an impromptu statement at the Isthmian games. Then Flamininus, who appropriated the slogan of Greek freedom, pronounced his famous declaration, which was essentially a repetition of the senatus consultum, that is, quite like his declaration in Rome in 193. Thus the Roman slogan of Greek freedom came into being; it proved effective and fulfilled its original purpose by eventually helping the Romans to overcome their last remaining major opponent in the east, the Great King Antiochos III.

196. So, e.g., E. S. Gruen, in Nomodeiktes: Greek Studies in Honor of M. Ostwald, ed. R. M. Rosen and J. Farrell (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993), 341 (“a startling statement”); Errington, Dawn, 154–155; Errington, Hellenistic World, 211: “In summer 196 the international games at the Isthmia near Korinth were due to take place, and Flamininus chose the occasion to make a major policy statement.” 197. See next chapter.

6 The Roman Slogan of Greek Freedom against Nabis and Antiochos III

i As we have already seen above, the slogan of freedom could be used in more than one way. In some situations, the slogan served to maintain the existing political and military balance, as it did in the King’s Peace, the Peace of 375, the Sparta Peace, and the Athens Peace, as well as in the declaration that accompanied the peace treaty of the Successors in 311. This was also the purpose for using the word “freedom” in the senatus consultum (and the peace treaty) of 197 that sealed the Roman victory in the Second Macedonian war, which Flamininus then reiterated in his declaration of 196. Referring to the freedom of the Greeks thus helped the Romans to deter the advance of Antiochos III to the west and to maintain the political status quo following the Second Macedonian war, and provided them with a casus belli once Antiochos resumed his push to the west in the late 190s. In other circumstances, the slogan of freedom served to cover what was, in fact, an aggression against some other power, as was the case in the declarations issued by Polyperchon (319), Antigonos (315), Ptolemy (314), Pyrrhos (at his invasion of Sparta in 272), and Philip’s Symmachy (220). For the same reason, in such situations the slogan of freedom had no direct relevance to the status of individual Greek cities. The Romans later employed “freedom” in this way against Nabis (195) and, less prominently, against Perseus (171–168) and the Achaean League 1. On later reflection, surely: the original King’s Peace used the word “autonomy” for this purpose. See chapter 1.

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(146). The evidence that we have about the Roman campaigns against Nabis and Antiochos shows, therefore, that the Romans had already come to appreciate these varying uses of the slogan of freedom soon after the beginning of the second century.

t he r oman w ar against n abis of s parta After the ten commissioners returned to Rome in early 195, they accused Nabis of holding Argos, the dominant stronghold in Greece, and decried him as a tyrant who threatened the freedom of Greece should the Roman army withdraw to Italy. In the words of Livy, the commissioners said that if Nabis “were allowed to hold Argos, which dominates the Peloponnese almost like a citadel, when the Roman armies were withdrawn to Italy, the liberation of Greece from Philip would prove to have been in vain.” This was an interesting statement on the part of those who had just retained Roman control over two out of three “fetters” and surrendered many Greek cities to the rule of Hellenistic Leagues and monarchs. This statement also shows that other Roman politicians were also appreciative of the political importance of the Greek slogan of freedom, irrespective of the fluid meaning of the word “freedom,” which happened to be interpreted depending on the situation. The fact that the senate left the whole matter of war against Nabis to Flamininus—who was actively building support for this war among the Greeks, presenting their conflict with Nabis exclusively as an internal Greek affair—has been explained by the insignificance of this conflict to the Romans. In particular, Erich Gruen asserted that “there was no rerum repetitio, no indictio belli, no formalities at all” and that the senate “declined to give official sanction” for this war. This conclusion can hardly be taken for granted. On the one hand, the evidence regarding the declaration of the Roman war against Nabis invites a different interpretation: it is possible to distinguish the presence of two traditions in the surviving evidence on how the decision about the war against Nabis was reached. On the other hand, the Roman practice of declaring wars had evolved from the regal period (it was allegedly Tullus Hostilius who established the formal procedure of declaring wars, including the denuntiatio and indictio belli, as well as the rôle of the

2. Liv. 33.44.9. 3. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 147, 451–453; cf. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 99 (the way the Romans started this war was “uncommon”), and Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 339–341, 345, for a more complex approach. 4. E.g., Liv. 34.22.5 and 34.35.2–3; Accame, Roma, 227–228.

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fetials) up to the late second century b.c. We know similar cases of wars declared by the Romans that invloved neither rerum repetitio nor indictio belli. One of them was the Roman war against Perseus, which could hardly be considered insignificant. It has also been proposed that there was “no separate rerum repetitio” in the Roman declaration of war against Philip, and that Lepidus delivered “both the rerum repetitio and the indictio belli.” Others have emphasized the discretion of Roman military commanders: John Rich put the Roman declaration of a war against Nabis together with several such cases, in which “the decision seems to have rested with the commander himself, though the senate had often given him some kind of mandate,” whereas Robert M. Errington attempted to explain this situation by stating that the senate made the ultimate decision about declaring the war, but left its timing and other particulars to the discretion of Flamininus. A similar situation seems to have occurred when peace was established after the defeat of Philip: whereas Polybios refers to the senatus consultum concerning the peace with Philip, Livy speaks of the ten commissioners who by their collective decision “in accordance with the ancestral custom” (more maiorum), supplied Flamininus with clauses of the peace. In the case of a war, too, the senate could have left the final decision to the discretion (fides) of the commander. It is hard to accept the idea of the insignificance of Roman conflict against Nabis also because the ten commissioners had already declared that Nabis posed a real threat to Roman interests in Greece, which was Rome’s primary political

5. E.g., Cic. De rep. 2.31. The authorship of this procedure has been debated, however: A. Zack, Studien zum “Römischen Völkerrecht”: Kriegserklärung, Kriegsbeschluss, Beeidung und Ratifikation zwischenstaatlicher Verträge, internationale Freundschaft und Feindschaft während der römischen Republik bis zum Beginn des Prinzipats (Göttingen: Duehrkohp & Radicke, 2001), 18, 69. 6. E.g., S. I. Oost, in AJP 75 (1954): 147–159; S. Albert, Bellum iustum: Die Theorie des “gerechten Krieges” und ihre praktische Bedeutung für die auswärtigen Auseinandersetzungen Roms in republikanischer Zeit (Kallmünz: Lassleben, 1980), 15–16; S. Claradetscher-Thürlemann, Polemos dikaios und bellum iustum: Versuch einer Ideengeschichte (Zürich: Juris, 1985), 144; J. Plescia, “The Roman ‘ius belli,’” Bullettino dell’Istituto di diritto romano 92–93 (1989–1990): 508–509, 516; Baronowski, “Sub umbra foederis aequi,” 364 n. 39; M. Kostial, Kriegerisches Rom? Zur Frage von Unvermeidbarkeit und Normalität militärischer Konflikte in der römischen Politik (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1995), 50–52; S. L. Ager, “Roman Perspectives on Greek Diplomacy,” in Diplomats and Diplomacy in the Roman World, ed. Cl. Eilers (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009), 18: “whatever the early fetial procedures of Rome and other Latin peoples were, by the time the Romans became involved in the Hellenistic Greek world, those procedures had been considerably modified, if not dropped altogether” (and n. 8 with extensive bibliography), 25. 7. E.g., Albert, Bellum, 122, 125. 8. A. R. Meadows, in Historia 62 (1993): 58. 9. Rich, War, 15 n. 10; Errington, “Rome,” 276; see also Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 201–202. 10. Polyb. 18.42.2–4, 18.44.1–2; Liv. 33.25.4–7, 33.30.1–5. For the evidence about the fides of Roman military commanders, see pp. 163–164, nn. 126–131.

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consideration. The decision of the senate to leave the whole matter to Flamininus probably came early in 195 because at this point Livy also talks about the allotment of provinces, showing that Flamininus had already spent the winter of 196–195 in Greece, courting Greek public opinion. And there was much more behind this move by the senate. No one doubted that Flamininus would opt for a war. The only question was how this war could be justified to the Greeks. Nabis was among the Roman adscripti in the treaty that had sealed the peace of Phoenice in 205, which does not, however, mean that he had a treaty with Rome at that time. Nabis then received Argos from Philip, but he quickly abandoned Philip and established a friendship (amicitia) with Rome in 197 b.c. Irrespective of whether he had a treaty with Rome in 197, after that time Nabis did not commit any acts that would justify Roman war against him. This fact created considerable difficulty for the senate: although the commissioners made it clear that Nabis posed a threat to Roman interests in Greece, the senate could not find a valid excuse to go to war against him. Being unable to reach a decision, the senate turned to Flamininus. The latter did not have any valid accusations against Nabis either. The most important allegation, such as Nabis’s control of Argos, was easily dealt with by Nabis, who referred to Rome’s acknowledgment of his rule in 205, when the Romans included him among their adscripti to the first treaty of peace between Rome and Philip. Livy mentions him in the list of the Roman adscripti to the peace of Phoenice (205) as Nabis Lacedaemoniorum tyrannus, which is certainly a reinterpretation in retrospect: in his address to Flamininus in 195, Nabis recalled that the Romans, including Flamininus, had earlier saluted him as king. By virtue of putting Nabis on the list of the adscripti to the peace of Phoenice, the Romans had already acknowledged him as a lawful ruler; they confirmed his status by establishing a “friendship” with him in 197. It could well be that from the point of view of some, Nabis’s rule over Sparta was not lawful and the Romans, therefore, were at least in part justified in declaring war against him. But what really

11. J.-G. Texier, “Un aspect de l’antagonisme de Rome et de Sparte à l’époque hellénistique: l’entreuve de 195 av. J.-C. entre T. Quinctius Flamininus et Nabis,” BCH 78–79 (1976–1977): 153. 12. For the problem of the status of the Roman adscripti in the peace of 205, see chapter 5. 13. E.g., Liv. 29.12.14, 32.38, 32.39.10 with Ferrenbach, “Die amici populi Romani,” 26–27, 55. 14. Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 133 n. 7, 140, 185–186. 15. See Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 199; P. Oliva, Sparta and Her Social Problems (Amsterdam: Hakkert; Prague: Academia, 1971), 288–289. 16. Liv. 29.12.14, 34.31.5–10, 34.32.16; Iust. 30.4.5. 17. Liv. 29.12.14. 18. Liv. 34.31.13: Tum me regem appellari a vobis memini, nunc tyrannum vocari video. 19. Mendels, “Note,” 39–44, and a detailed discussion by A. M. Eckstein, in GRBS 28 (1987): 213–233.

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mattered, and what Nabis put forth as the base of his defense in 195, was that the Romans had already acknowledged him as a ruler. Livy is probably referring to this rapprochement between Rome and Nabis when he says that the Achaean League turned to Flamininus in late 198 (or early 197?) because of fear of the Roman army and of Nabis. At least some of the Greeks also considered Nabis a lawful ruler (basileus), as documented by an honorific inscription to him from Delos. Modern interpretations have failed to find any valid support for the Roman allegation that the rule of Nabis and his control of Argos were illegitimate. It is hard to see how Livy’s words prove that a “wartime agreement between Flamininus and the Spartan gave de facto recognition of his right to Argos, but no juridical sanction.” It is similarly difficult to justify Flamininus’s accusation of Nabis not by the “legalities of past diplomacy” but by the “immorality of Nabis’s past behavior” and his “terrorism.” Why, then, did Flamininus need to convene the assembly of the Greeks and publicly withdraw from participating in discussions, thus leaving the decision about going to war against Nabis to the Greeks, as we shall see below? Flamininus’s claim that the Romans had made an earlier treaty not with Nabis but with Pelops, the lawful king of Sparta at that time, had no validity either. The only other source that mentions Pelops in this context is the Library of Diodoros, which claims that Nabis put Pelops to death. But Polybios, whose attitude toward Nabis is very negative, says nothing about this. Nor did it really matter that the Romans now tried to refer to Hagepolis as the “lawful king of Sparta,” since Flamininus himself had already acknowledged Nabis as king. Every other Roman accusation was likewise countered by Nabis without any difficulty. What remained was the slogan of freedom. Flamininus again demonstrated his enviable artistic talents by using this slogan in the declaration before

20. Liv. 32.19.6. This rôle of Nabis: Holleaux, Études 5:121–140; Oliva, Sparta, 285; pace Errington, Hellenistic World, 205, who thought that Nabis joined the Romans only after the Achaeans had abandoned Philip. Relations between Rome and the Achaeans: E. Badian, “The Treaty between Rome and the Achaean League,” JRS 42 (1952): 76–80. 21. Syll.3 584 = F. Dürrbach, Choix d’inscriptions de Délos, vol. 1 (Paris: Leroux, 1921), no. 58, with pp. 74–75; D. Mendels, in Athenaeum, n.s., 57 (1979): 316, 332. 22. E.g., Texier, “L’antagonisme,” 146. 23. Liv. 32.40.1–3 with Gruen, Hellenistic World, 450, and A. M. Eckstein, “Nabis and Flamininus on the Argive Revolutions of 198 and 197 b.c.,” GRBS 28 (1988), 229, respectively. See also C. Mossé, La tyrannie dans la Grèce antique (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1969), 184: “it was not legitimate that he was the ruler of Sparta, because he exerted only the absolute authority,” and 186–188. 24. Liv. 34.32.1–2. 25. Diod. 27.1.1; Polyb. 13.6. 26. Liv. 34.41.6; cf. 34.31.12–13. J. Mundt, “Nabis: König von Sparta (206–192 v. Chr.)” (diss., Cologne: [s.n.], 1903), 55–56; Eckstein, Senate, 305.

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the Greeks and, soon thereafter, in his speech to Nabis, surely in the presence of many spectators. Judging by the words of Livy, Flamininus declared that the Romans would restore to Sparta its “ancient freedom” and give it back its laws (in antiquam libertatem atque in leges suas). Flamininus used the slogan of freedom in place of valid arguments, precisely because of their absence. The declaration was made at the Nemean games (near Argos), and the slogan of freedom was used as a pretext for aggression on behalf of those whose freedom had allegedly been violated. It is not surprising, therefore, that in the war against Nabis, “the issue of freedom is even clearer,” in comparison with that found in the declaration of 196 and the events what followed it. Of course it is clearer: whereas the declaration of 196 was issued with the aim of maintaining the status quo after the war against Macedonia had ended, in the case of Nabis the slogan of freedom preceded and justified the military conflict. Flamininus first had to marshal the Greeks’ consent for the war by convening a conference of those Greek states that had resented Nabis’s control of Argos for a long time and had also accused him of tyranny. The participants included Eumenes’s royal father, Attalos I, who was much annoyed by Nabis’s control of Argos. What is interesting about this whole situation is that after Flamininus gained authorization from the senate to start a war, he left it to the Greeks to decide if they wanted a war against Nabis. How could this be? Flamininus should have been well aware of the outcome, because of the profound Greek displeasure with, and distrust of, Nabis. A complementary explanation is that the war against Nabis, who rejected Roman conditions (probably put before him in the form of rerum repetitio), was started by a denuntiatio belli. The latter had the full force of a declaration of war because the conditional authorization of the people and the senate had already been obtained.

27. Nabis: Liv. 34.31.1–19. Mundt, “Nabis,” 55–61. Flamininus: Liv. 33.44.8–9, 34.22.7–13, 34.32.1–20. Cf. another such occasion mentioned by Errington, Hellenistic World, 213: on Flamininus as “staging a dramatic evacuation of Roman troops, the garrison on the Akrokorinth marching out just as the Greek dignitaries had assembled in the lower city to hear the official announcement that withdrawal was imminent.” 28. Liv. 34.32.4. 29. E.g., Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 306. 30. Liv. 34.41; Plut. Flam. 12.5–6. 31. Eckstein, “Polybius,” 61; Harris, War, 218–219. 32. Attalos: Liv. 32.40.1–4. Conference: Liv. 34.22.6–34.23.11. 33. Liv. 34.22.5, 34.22.12–13. 34. Cf. Mundt, “Nabis,” 50–51; Petzold, Eröffnung, 103 n. 72. 35. See Liv. 34.35–37. Cf. n. 3 above. 36. E.g., Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 202; Walbank, “Declaration,” 15–19; Walbank, Papers, 186–190. The rerum repetitio: Holleuax, Études 5:16 n. 1; Heuss, Grundlagen, 18–22; Bickerman, “Bellum Philippicum,” 138–139; H. Hausmaninger, in Österreichische Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 11 (1961): 337–341; Kostial, Konflikte, 50–52, 60–62. None of them discussed the Roman war against Nabis.

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It was up to Flamininus’s discretion (fides) to begin a war against Nabis. But Flamininus first had to present the Roman war against Nabis as a Greek affair that was in the interests of the Greeks: the Romans still faced the fact that many Greeks (with the Aetolians being, probably, the most vocal) denied them a place in Greek politics. Flamininus’s task was not difficult at all: he used the Greek hostility toward Nabis as an incentive for a military campaign against the Spartan king. The official Roman position was to rationalize the military campaign against Nabis by using the slogan of freedom, as promoted by Rome in the declaration of 196. In Livy’s words, “[I]t seemed by no means consistent for the liberator of Greece to have left a tyrant, who was not only a burden to his own country, but a source of danger to all the cities in the neighborhood,” whereas Justin’s text established a parallel between Flamininus’s liberation of Greece from Nabis and his earlier liberation of Macedonia from Philip: senatus . . . scripsit Flaminino, si ei videatur, sicuti Macedoniam a Philippo, ita et Graeciam a Nabide liberet. Modern scholarly opinion has uniformly subscribed to this official Roman stance. However, the Romans first used the slogan of freedom only after their war against Philip V was over, so that the slogan of freedom in the declaration of 196 served to maintain the political balance in Greece and western Asia Minor as part of the post-war settlement, which was threatened by the advance of Antiochos from the east. Now the slogan of freedom was used to change this balance through military intervention. Therefore, although the Romans claimed to act as champions of Greek freedom on both occasions, in 195 the slogan of freedom was used in a different way and for a different purpose. In 195, Flamininus, too, followed in the footsteps of his Greek predecessors. In particular, Flamininus used this slogan as the justification for military aggression, which corresponded fully with what his former adversary, Philip, had done when he issued the declaration of his Symmachy in 220. Then Flamininus convened the conference of the Greeks and turned his negotiations with Nabis into

37. For the discretion (fides) of Roman generals in matters of war and peace, see chapter 4. 38. E.g., Holleaux, Études, 5:376. 39. Liv. 34.48.5–6; see also 34.32.1–13. Iust. 31.1.6. 40. Liv. 43.8.6. E.g., A. Passerini, in Athenaeum, n.s., 10 (1932): 327; V. Ehrenberg, “Nabis,” in RE 16.2 (1935): 1477; Aymard, Les premiers rapports, 188–189; Will, Histoire, 2:150; Oliva, Sparta, 288; B. Shimron, Late Sparta: The Spartan Revolution 243–146 b.c. (Buffalo: State University of New York, 1972), 92; P. Cartledge and A. Spawforth, Hellenistic and Roman Sparta: A Tale of Two Cities2 (London and New York: Routledge, 2002), 74; Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 33; Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy Books XXXI–XXXIII, 27; Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 335; K.-W. Welwei, “Nabis,” in NPauly 8 (2000): 659; Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 63; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 303–305, 313. Cf. Günther, “Flamininus,” 710. 41. So also Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 88. For this declaration, see chapter 3.

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another show. The choice of Corinth as the place for this conference was hardly incidental: championing Greek freedom gave the Romans their only justification for participating in Greek affairs, as Flamininus had declared at the Isthmian games in the preceding year. In practical terms, this meant that the Roman campaign against Nabis had to be connected with the declaration of freedom that Flamininus had issued in the same city a year earlier. Flamininus’s reason for presenting the impending war against Nabis as a purely Greek affair was also quite obvious: the Romans lacked the legitimacy to deal with Nabis on their own. Besides having no excuse for interfering in Greek affairs, they simply had no publicly justifiable grounds for declaring war against him. Nor did they have any grounds for keeping their forces in Greece. Not surprisingly, therefore, at the conference convened by Flamininus in the spring of 195, Alexander, the representative of the Aetolians, accused the Romans of using the “empty name of freedom,” while retaining two of the “fetters” (Demetrias and Chalcis), and using Argos and Nabis as their excuse for keeping the Roman army in Greece. He urged the Romans to transport their legions to Italy, saying that Nabis would then either leave Argos by his own will or be compelled to do so by the Greeks. In plain terms, the question was about whether the Romans had the right to interfere in the affairs of the Greeks. Antiochos had raised the same question during the negotiations at Lysimachea in the autumn of 196 when he suggested that the complaints of Lampsacus and Smyrna, that is, the cities that the Romans claimed to represent, should be arbitrated by a Greek community, such as Rhodes. This would have left no place in Greek politics for the Romans, and the negotiations fell apart. A similar idea would also be expressed by Minnio, one of Antiochos’s envoys, at the negotiations in Rome in 193. He, too, stated that the Romans were abusing the slogan of Greek freedom. For the same obvious reason, these negotiations ended with nothing as well. Staging war against Nabis for the freedom of the Greeks, therefore, offered an excuse to extend Flamininus’s military command to another year (consular year 195) and to prolong the Roman military presence in Greece. The Romans, once again, furthered their own interests by playing on the contradictions among the Greeks. The ambassador of the Athenians, who were the principal enemies of the

42. Liv. 33.45.2–3, 34.22.4–5, 34.23.1. 43. Liv. 34.23.5–11. See Oliva, Sparta, 288. 44. Polyb. 18.52.1–4; App. Syr. 3; Ager, Arbitrations, no. 77. 45. Liv. 35.16.2: “specioso titulo” inquit “uti vos, Romani, Graecarum civitatium liberandum video.” 46. Iust. 31.1.7. Previous prorogations: Liv. 32.28.9, 33.25.11; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 326, 335. 47. Liv. 33.43.6, 34.23.10; Oliva, Sparta, 288; Errington, “Rome,” 276; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 154.

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Aetolians, expressly thanked the Romans for offering their help even “without being asked.” It was clear to everybody that his speech was attacking the Aetolians, whereas the Aetolian Alexander, while accusing the Romans of using the “empty name of freedom,” blamed his fellow Greeks, primarily the Athenians (whom he referred to as “one-time champions and authors of freedom”: libertatis quondam duces et auctores), for forsaking the Greek common cause by siding with the Romans. Alexander’s words may have referred, in particular, to the time of the Lamian war, when the Greeks fought against Macedonian enslavement. They were then led by the Athenians, who propagated the idea that panhellenic freedom could be achieved by a panhellenic peace, which would come from a unified response by all Greeks against the “barbarians.” The slogan of freedom was, therefore, used by every side in the conflict. The fact that the Romans eventually allowed Nabis to remain in power also raises questions about their reasons for going to war against him. Rome’s treaty with Nabis came as the conflict between the Romans and Antiochos was escalating. This treaty was, therefore, guided by the same considerations that the Romans had used when they concluded their treaty with Philip in 197. The rule of Nabis was similarly limited: Roman “freedom” meant weakening Nabis by declaring “free” those cities that he had controlled and by forbidding him to establish military alliances. which, as we have seen, was the typical Greek method of political control. Such uses of the slogan of freedom belonged to Greek diplomatic practice: they were developed in the fifth century—most visibly in the demands of Sparta that Athens give “autonomy” to her “allies”—and were refined over the course of the fourth century. His surrender of coastal cities deprived Nabis of allies, which was the basis of his military strength. Damocritus, the Aetolian ambassador who negotiated with Nabis in 193, pointed to the weakening of Nabis’s “tyranny” from his loss of the coastal cities, because “thence he had drawn soldiers, thence ships and naval alliance.” The Romans had used the slogan of freedom to demolish Nabis’s power by depriving him of his alliance. After weakening him in this way, they found it possible to keep him on the throne. Not surprisingly, after the Romans left Greece in 194, Nabis, who (along with other Greeks) clearly understood the real meaning of Roman “freedom,”

48. Liv. 34.23.3–4. 49. Liv. 34.23.5. 50. See Diod. 18.9.5, 18.10.3, and chapter 2. 51. E.g., Holleaux, Études, 5:371–375, 375–380; pace Eckstein, Senate, 303, 308–309. 52. Liv. 34.35.3, 34.35.9–10; see also Liv. 35.12.6–7. 53. Liv. 35.12.7. Cf. Liv. 34.35.8.

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reestablished his control over the coastal cities in 193. These cities had been given over to the Achaeans by Rome, which was another indication that “freedom” did not necessarily equate with the actual status of those cities that were proclaimed to be “free.” As a result, the Achaeans declared war on Nabis. By joining in a common cause with the Aetolian League and Antiochos, Nabis completely shattered his treaty with Rome. Having been caught between two mighty opponents, he had no room to maneuver. His being knocked off the board could, therefore, be easily anticipated: Nabis was murdered by Alexamenos and his fellow Aetolians in 192. The immediate consequence of Nabis’s downfall was that the Achaean League absorbed Sparta and extended its influence across the entire Peloponnese: Elis and Messenia were added soon thereafter. The growth of the Achaean League at the expense of these territories, however, would give the Romans an opportunity to interfere in the League’s affairs, as if Rome were defending the freedom of the Achaeans’ newly acquired constituencies. The eventual result of this Roman policy was the crushing of the Achaean League by Rome. But this was yet to come. Meanwhile, Rome and the Achaeans had a common enemy, Antiochos III, who had allied himself with the Aetolians. Shortly after extending their League to include Sparta, the Achaeans declared war on Antiochos and his allies, expecting that Rome would join this conflict. It was indeed easy to deduce the Romans’ next move, based on how their relations with the King had been developing.

t he n egotiations of the r omans with a ntiochos i i i Following Flamininus’s victory over Philip at Cynoscephalae, the senate issued a senatus consultum, which was to serve as the basis for further actions by Flamininus and the commission of ten senators who were dispatched from Rome to put the affairs of Greece in order. The text of Polybios shows that the senatus consultum addressed two groups of the Greeks: “All the rest of the Greeks in Asia and Europe (τοὺς μὲν ἄλλους Ἕλληνας πάντας, τούς τε κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν καὶ κατὰ τὴν

54. Liv. 35.13.2, 35.22.1–2. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 463; Errington, “Rome,” 276–277. 55. Liv. 35.12.6–7, 35.13.1–2, 38.30.6–9, 38.31.1–2, 39.13.1–2. 56. Cf. Plut. Philop. 19.2: in 182, (some of) the Messenians still thought that Philopoemen had restored their freedom to them by expelling Nabis. 57. Liv. 35.25.2–35.30.13. 58. Liv. 35.12.6–7 and 17; 35.13.1–2. 59. Liv. 35.35.1–19, 35.36.1–10; Grainger, War, 184–185. 60. Sparta: Liv. 35.37.2. Elis and Messenia: Liv. 36.31.1–9. 61. See next chapter.

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Eὐρώπην) were to be free and subject to their own laws; Philip was to surrender to the Romans before the Isthmian games those subjects under his rule and garrisoned cities; he was to leave free, withdrawing garrisons from them, the cities of Euromus, Pedasa, Bargylia, and Iasus, as well as Abydus, Thasos, Myrina, and Perinthus.” In Polybios’s words, the senatus consultum first dealt with all those who had not been subject to Philip: their freedom was to be preserved. Second, it proclaimed the freedom of those who were now freed from Philip’s control. Other ancient accounts of this senatus consultum emphasized only one aspect of this arrangement—Appian spoke about its granting freedom to those who had been freed from Philip’s control, whereas Diodoros stressed that the senatus consultum guaranteed the continued freedom of all those Greeks who already had it at that time. The second part of the senatus consultum is quite clear: freedom was granted to those who had been freed from Philip by Rome. Ferrary has noted that the freed cities of Greece were to be given over to the Romans, while a few, all in Asia, were to be left free and ungarrisoned. This probably reflected the political situation: Rome did not take Asian cities, but she had overcome their former master and therefore had the right to determine their status. At the conference at Lysimachea, the Romans said that “the cities of Asia that had been part of the dominions of Philip should be left independent, for it was not right that Antiochos should seize places of which Rome had deprived Philip.” “Freedom” obviously implied freedom from being garrisoned: this provision, which had nothing to do with the actual status of the cities in question, prevented anyone from using these cities against Rome. As we have already seen, the “garrison clause” had served the same purpose well in the pre-Roman history of Greece. But what was the reason for proclaiming the freedom of those who already had it? It is quite possible that, to the Romans, the status of all free Greek cities, that is, those “originally free” (including those in Asia) and those that had just been freed from Philip’s rule, was the same—“free amici of Rome.” But the political importance of the two groups could have been different. This clause has been interpreted in different ways, that is, either as a counterweight to

62. Polyb. 18.44.2–4. Interpretations of what “all the rest of the Greeks” could have meant: Heuss, Grundlagen, 85; Will, Histoire, 2:143; Harris, War, 142 n. 1; Errington, “Rome,” 270. 63. Polyb. 18.44.2; App. Mac. 9.3; Diod. 28.11. 64. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 81. 65. App. Syr. 3. Cf. their similar stance in the negotiations with the Aetolian League in 197 b.c.: Liv. 33.13.8. 66. Badian, Clientelae, 74. Pace Holleaux, Études, 5:380–386; F. Hampl, Geschichte als kritische Wissenschaft, ed. I. Weiler (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1979), 3:106–107 n. 66.

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Antiochos’s slogan of Greek freedom or as defining the Roman sphere of interests. A comparison with Hellenistic declarations of freedom suggests that the senatus consultum used the slogan of freedom to contain the ambitions of Antiochos III, who was already advancing westward. As such, this clause in the senatus consultum was an effective ultimatum to Antiochos, providing the Romans with a casus belli in the case of his offense against the Greek cities of western Asia Minor. The declaration of Flamininus in 196 displayed a similar double approach: it proclaimed the freedom of those who received it after Roman victory over Philip and also guaranteed the freedom of those Greeks who had it at that moment. Flamininus, therefore, only reinforced what had been said in the senatus consultum: if Antiochos encroached on the freedom of Greek cities, Rome would protect their freedom by force. At the conference at Lysimachea later in 196, the Romans did not go any further than that: they ordered Antiochos to keep away from those Asian cities that had formerly been subject to Philip and Ptolemy, as well as from those that were already “autonomous.” The senatus consultum did not apply to, and the declaration of Flamininus was not concerned with, those Greek cities that were subject to Antiochos in Asia: “all the rest of the Greeks” were those who already had freedom, as opposed to those who had become free after the defeat of Philip. Antiochos’s subjects were not a concern for the Romans in 196. Both the senatus consultum and the declaration were aimed at securing a political balance in the region; therefore, freedom was guaranteed to those who already had it when the senatus consultum was issued. The senate was pledging to protect their freedom, which in practical terms meant that the violation of their status by Antiochos entitled Rome to respond with force. Hence, interpreting this stance as merely reflecting the senate’s wish to distract Antiochos from European affairs misses the mark. Like its Hellenistic models, the

67. Esp. Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 61–70. 68. E.g., Will, Histoire, 2:143; Errington, “Rome,” 270. 69. Polyb. 18.46.5 and 15. Cf. Liv. 33.32.5, 33.33.7; Plut. Flam. 10.4; App. Mac. 9.4; Val. Max. 4.8.5. 70. Cf. Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 36, 39. Pace Will, Histoire, 2:144, and Eckstein, “Polybius,” 50–52, who distinguished between the aims of the senatus consultum and of Flamininus’s declaration. 71. Polyb. 18.47.1–2. See Briscoe, “Senatorial Politics,” 1090 (“The conference [at Lysimachea] was a diplomatic disaster for the Romans”), and Errington, “Rome,” 275. 72. Cf. Polyb. 18.44.3; App. Mac. 9.3–4; Liv. 33.32.5–6; Val. Max. 4.8.5. 73. Pace Albert, Bellum, 73, 77; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 245, 311, 337; J.-L. Ferrary, “Rome et les cités grecques d’Asie Mineure au IIe siècle,” in Les cités d’Asie Mineure occidentale, 94; Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” 250. 74. As Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 56; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 37.

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declaration of Flamininus used the protection of Greek freedom to secure both the status quo and a casus belli in case of an enemy’s advance. The purpose of the declaration was practical: by that time, Antiochos had already started his march from the east and begun overtaking Philip’s former possessions in Asia Minor. He was unlikely to stop there, at least in the eyes of the Romans. Antiochos’s envoys were present at Corinth when Flamininus made his declaration. And the Romans immediately translated their ideological claims into a practical stance: as soon as the games were over, the Ten summoned the envoys of the King and informed them that the Romans “commanded” Antiochos to stay away from autonomous cities and those previously subject to Ptolemy and Philip, and not to cross to Europe with an army, “for none of the Greeks were any longer being attacked by anyone or the slaves (δουλεύειν) of anyone.” According to Polybios, at the conference at Lysimachea (later in 196), the Romans introduced the representatives of Smyrna and Lampsacus before the King, thus posing as arbitrators in the dispute between Antiochos and some of the Greek cities of Asia. Acting on behalf of Smyrna and Lampsacus allowed the Romans to secure a place in Greek politics. The Romans occupied a similar position in 200, by acting as mediators between Philip V on the one hand, and the Greeks and Ptolemy on the other: “[U]nder the circumstances the demand that Philip abstain from war against the Greeks amounted to a demand that he accept Rome as arbitor of his policy in Greece.” In 196, the Romans also offered themselves as mediators in the conflict between Antiochos and Ptolemy V Epiphanes. But although the Roman claim to protect Ptolemy’s possessions in Asia Minor was used to put a check on Antiochos’s advance to the west, mediators could only be chosen by the consent of both parties. And while Rome objected to his seizure of the former Ptolemaic territories and cities, Antiochos was entitled to ask what gave the Romans the right to interfere in his conflict with Ptolemy. Protecting the autonomy and freedom of Greek cities, which had themselves appealed to Rome, as did Lampsacus and Smyrna, put the Romans in a much better position.

75. Polyb. 18.47.1–2 (see n. 71 above). Cf. Badian, Studies, 118: “Thus Rome had reacted to Antiochus’ policy by launching a war of propaganda and once seizing the initiative in it.” 76. Polyb. 18.52.3. For these arrangements of Roman commissioners, see Grainger, War, 86. 77. Polyb. 16.27.1–3, 16.34.3–4. 78. Larsen, “Peace of Phoenice,” 30. 79. Polyb. 18.50.1; Liv. 33.39.1. 80. The second Roman ultimatum to Philip in 200 b.c.: Polyb. 16.34.3–4 (see p. 167, n. 4). The ultimatum to Antiochos’s envoys in Corinth: Polyb. 18.47.1. 81. Polyb. 18.51.10. Cary, History2, 208: Antiochos “completely out-argued” the Roman ambassadors.

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But here, too, Rome was far from the best choice of a mediator in a conflict that concerned only the Greeks. The King, allegedly annoyed by the insolence of the ambassadors of Lampsacus and Smyrna, and clearly perceiving the true intentions of the Romans, proposed to submit his dispute with these two cities to the arbitration of the Rhodians. This would have removed the only pretext, shaky as it was, for Roman involvement in the affairs of the Greek cities of Asia. A recent study has presented the arguments of Antiochos as “a face-saving gesture, for Rhodes was Rome’s ally, and was also a power notoriously sensitive to the autonomy of cities in the Hellespont region—she had gone to war with Philip on this very issue—and at the same time was only technically a friend of Antiochus.” The obvious question should be why, then, Antiochos referred the whole matter to the Rhodians after all. We can begin answering this question by pointing out that Rhodes was not an ally of Rome but merely a “friend” without a treaty: Rhodes established an alliance and formal treaty with Rome only in the aftermath of the Third Macedonian war. As “friends” without a treaty, the Rhodians had no obligation to Rome and could remain neutral in conflicts involving Rome, as they did as late as the time of the Third Macedonian war (see chapter 8). After that war, the Romans accused Rhodes of duplicity, saying that the Rhodians had not interfered in defense of those cities that were then being besieged by Perseus. This evidence shows that the Rhodians did not always interfere on behalf of Greek cities: they obviously took royal claims, as well as their own interests, into consideration. At that time, the Hellespont was vital to Rhodian trade, hence the remarkable sensitivity of Rhodians to that region, including the war they led against Byzantium in 220. Thus, by volunteering to submit his conflict against Smyrna and Lampsacus to the arbitration of the Rhodians, Antiochos showed the honesty and sincerity of his stance to all Greeks. Finally, and even more important, Rhodes had established herself among the Greeks as the defender of Greek freedom, especially against foreigners (see chapter 8). Antiochos had valid reasons to refer the whole matter to the Rhodians. By doing so, he once again revealed the precarious position of the Romans in Greece, who had no justification for meddling with what were exclusively Greek affairs, so that Antiochos’s suggestion “was pure propaganda, used in a particular situation to put the Romans out of

82. See Rawlings III, “Antiochus,” 13–16; Badian, Studies, 121. 83. Grainger, War, 96. 84. Polyb. 30.31.20. 85. Polyb. 4.47.3, 6; 4.48.1.

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countenance.” An attempt to present this episode as “another miscalculation” of Antiochos distorts our vision of what was going on. The Roman envoys simply had nothing to say in response to Antiochos’s proposal. The Romans thus rejected it, and the negotiations fell apart. Roman intentions became even clearer in 193, during Flamininus’s negotiations with the envoys of Antiochos in Rome. According to Livy, Flamininus offered Antiochos two solutions to avoid the conflict between the two powers: “[F]irst, that if he wishes us to have no interest in what concerns the cities of Asia, he too must himself keep entirely out of Europe; second, that if he does not keep himself within the limits of Asia, but crosses into Europe, the Romans too shall have the right both to defend the existing friendships with cities of Asia and to establish new ones.” Antiochos, certainly, could not abandon what he claimed to be his ancestral possessions in the Hellespont and Thrace. But the slogan of freedom was a powerful message, and the envoys were understandably hesitant about what to say in response. Dividing the spheres of interests was thus as effective as using the slogan of Greek freedom: in each case Antiochos’s movements could essentially be checked by the Romans. Flamininus was able to lay his cards on the table, as the negotiations in Rome were taking place behind closed doors. Demonstrating the same moral unscrupulousness as before, he was ready to forget about the “freedom” of Greek cities in Asia, if the conflict could be avoided in a more economic way—by defining the spheres of interest, which was a traditional Roman diplomatic practice. The Romans had laid down such clauses when dealing with the Illyrians in 228, who formally agreed never to sail armed for war south of the river Lissus; the Carthaginians in 306, 226 (the “Ebro clause”), and 201, when they were prohibited to wage

86. E. Badian, “Hegemony and Independence: Prolegomena to a Study of the Relations of Rome and the Hellenistic States in the Second Century b.c.,” in Proceedings of the VIIth Congress of the International Federation of the Societies of Classical Studies, ed. J. Harmatta (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1984), 1:403; cf. S. L. Ager, “Rhodes: The Rise and Fall of a Neutral Diplomat,” Historia 40 (1991): 24. 87. As Grainger, War, 133 (see n. 132 below). 88. Liv. 34.58.2–3 (ut et Romanis ius sit Asiae civitatium amicitias et tueri quas habeant et novas complecti). 89. Liv. 34.59.1. 90. See Liv. 34.59.2 for the words of the eldest of the Ten, Publius Sulpicius Galba: alteram ex duabus condicionibus, quae modo diserte a Quinctio latae sunt, legite aut supersedete de amicitia agere. 91. Badian, Studies, 126–127; Errington, “Rome,” 178. Cf. the similarly secretive talks between Flamininus and Philip V during the general conference in Locris in 198: Holleaux, Études, 5:53. 92. Esp. Holleaux, Études, 5:29–77: Flamininus was ready to sacrifice the Greeks, Philip, or even Roman political interests for that matter, to his personal advancement and ambition, and 354 for his phenomenal vanity; cf., e.g., his dedication to Apollo, in which he referred to himself as “godlike”: Plut. Flam. 12.7, and the coins with his portrait, which he issued himself: Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 92 n. 155, and Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 285 n. 42. His lust and cruelty: e.g., Liv. 39.43.1–3.

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wars beyond designated geographic limits, as was Philip V in 197–196 and, later, Antiochos III himself, who was required by the treaty of Apamea in 188 to vacate all of cis-Tauran Asia and to not sail for purposes of war beyond the promontories of the Calycadnus and Sarpedonium. In short, this kind of arrangement was familiar and easy for the Romans, and Flamininus started by suggesting to Antiochos’s ambassadors that they delimit the territories under Seleucid and Roman control, clearly preferring to keep the slogan of freedom until he had tried all other possibilities. Flamininus’s preferences probably reflected limited success for the Roman policy of championing Greek freedom. Here the Romans had to compete against Antiochos, who had established relations with Greek cities of Asia Minor based on the traditional principle of granting them, individually, “freedom” and “autonomy” in exchange for their goodwill toward him. An excellent example of this situation appears to have been his relationship with Teos, whose “freedom” [and “autonomy”], along with “the remaining benefits,” were confirmed by Antiochos either in c.204–202 or around 196. If one prefers the earlier date, this confirmation should have reflected the advance of Antiochos in western Asia Minor following the death of Ptolemy IV Philopator, whereas the second suggested date could have implied Antiochos’s response to Flamininus’s declaration and explained the subsequent appeals of Smyrna and Lampsacus to Rome. Irrespective of the date of, and the reason for, this confirmation, it reflected the usual practice of Hellenistic monarchs. And Antiochos had it in mind when, at the conference at Lysimachea in the autumn of 196, he said that Greek cities of Asia should receive freedom not by a Roman pronouncement (epitage) but by his grace (charis), clearly referring to Smyrna and Lampsacus. Antiochos’s stance might have been reflected in an inscription from Iasus, which is dated in the corpus of inscriptions from that city to the latter half of the 190s: the King pledged to protect the status of Iasus

93. For these and other such cases, see p. 189, n. 148. 94. E.g., Polyb. 21.42.4, 14, 24, with Liv. 38.38.3–4, 9 and App. Syr. 39. 95. Pace Grainger, War, 73: Antiochos “wished to establish his own grants of freedom in anticipation of those of the Romans,” thus implying that Antiochos and the Romans were acting in the same manner. See also Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 64–65, on Antiochos’s crossing into Greece as a display of the limited success of the Roman propaganda of Greek freedom. 96. SEG 41, 1004, as by Piejko in ll.11–13 and 17–20 (dated in SEG to c.196 b.c.). The date: P. Herrmann, “Antiochos der Grosse und Teos,” Anadolu 9 (1965): 93–97 (204–203); F. Piejko, “Antiochus III and Teos Reconsidered,” Belleten 55 (1991): 14 (197–196); K. J. Rigsby, Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 281–291 (203–202); Ma, Antiochos, 311–317 n. 18 (“203”?); Errington, Hellenistic World, 209 (“204/3”). 97. For the suggested dating of his death in the late summer or autumn of 204, see p. 346, n. 24. 98. Polyb. 18.51.9.

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(obviously in return for that city’s goodwill toward him), in the same way as Ptolemy had made pledges (personally and through his generals) to Iasus in the late fourth century and as other Hellenistic rulers had promised to other Greek cities elsewhere. Depending on how we date the inscriptions concerning a relationship between Antiochos and Iasus, his grant of freedom to that city could also have been based on “Antiochus’ own general statement at Lysimachea.” Flamininus could use the slogan of freedom only with respect to individual Greek cities, which either already had the status of free cities at that time (and did not necessarily need Roman protection) or had just been freed by the Romans from Philip’s control (in many cases only to be surrendered by Rome to someone else’s control, as we have seen earlier). The Romans clearly did not have as firm a foothold in Greek politics as Antiochos. Not much evidence has survived, however, about Antiochos either acting or presenting himself as a champion of Greek freedom. In one such instance, Minnio, one of Antiochos’s ambassadors to the negotiations at Rome in 193, is said to have accused the Romans of using the slogan of Greek freedom in their own interests and to have compared the status of the cities of Asia under Antiochos with that of Italian cities under Rome, which is quite reminiscent of the accusations exchanged in the fifth and fourth centuries by Sparta and Athens or by Sparta and Thebes, over the status of their “allies.” We also encounter further references to Greek accusations of the Romans having used the slogan of Greek freedom in Roman interests, which should have helped Antiochos to promote his own stance as the defender of Greek freedom. Finally, the Aetolians openly helped Antiochos to take the initiative into his own hands by publicly inviting him, in the spring of 192, to “liberate Greece and negotiate between the Aetolians and Rome,”

99. OGI 237, l.2 (195–190 b.c.) = I.Iasos 4, l.51 (195–193 b.c.). See also SEG 26, 1226.8–10 (the letter of Queen Laodike to Iasus), included by W. Blümel in the same dossier as the honorific inscription (I. Iasos 4) and thus dated to c.195–193. Cf. Ch. Crowther, in BICS 36 (1989): 136–138, and Ma, Antiochos, 329–335, no. 26, who presented this inscription as a separate document and dated it to c.196. 100. E.g., I.Iasos 2.47–53 and 3.11–15 and 21–25 (see p. 125, nn. 80 and 82). 101. E.g., Ma, Antiochos, 93 n. 150, who, however, dated (336, no. 28) both this inscription and SEG 26, 1226 (see n. 99 above) to “c.196.” 102. E.g., Liv. 34.48.2. 103. E.g., Polyb. 18.51.2, 20.8.1; Liv. 35.44.6, 36.9.4. See Schmitt, Untersuchungen, 96–99; Pédech, La méthode, 173–176; W. Dahlheim, Gewalt und Herrschaft: Das provinziale Herrschaftssystem der römischen Republik (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1977), 195; Seager, “Freedom,” 112; Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans,” 745–749; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 133, 147; Grainger, War, 190–191; Ma, Antiochos, 100; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 318–320 (with the conclusion that Antiochos’s policy of freedom was unsuccessful); Yoshimura, “Libertas-Begriff,” 12–13. 104. Liv. 35.16.2 (see n. 45 above) and 5 (Naples, Rhegium, Tarentum). 105. E.g., Polyb. 18.45.6 with Deininger, Widerstand, 63; Liv. 33.31.1, 34.23.8, 34.49.6, 35.16.2.

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although in Polybios’s words, this sentiment was promoted by Antiochos himself. The Aetolians followed this diplomatic step with military action, namely, by dispatching their forces to the Chalcidians, to “set them free from the Romans.” The Chalcidians’ denial that they were slaves to anybody also implies that the Aetolians had accused the Romans of enslaving Chalcis. As reported by Polybios, in the words of Athenaeos, once the war broke out, Antiochos consciously presented himself as defending the freedom of the Greeks. This stance should have been met with sympathy by many in Asia Minor, who were oppressed by Roman exactions. Polybios says that the promotion of Antiochos as a champion of Greek freedom by the Aetolians, and by the king himself, was the pretext for the war, whereas Antiochos’s entry into the harbor of Demetrias was its reason. Neither of these opinions can be taken for granted, but even the limited evidence we have shows that the political and military conflict between Rome and Antiochos assumed the ideological form of a fight over Greek freedom, in which the Romans were clearly on the defensive. The most interesting event happened on the following day, that is, after the closed-door negotiations between Antiochos’s ambassadors and Flamininus fell apart, when the Romans announced their decision to the representatives of the Greek states. We do not have a Polybios’s version, and the accounts of Livy, Diodoros, and Appian have produced different opinions concerning their provenance and interrelationships. Nor has it been clearly established exactly what the Romans said to the Greeks, and whether this message was consistent with the proposals that Flamininus had made to the envoys of Antiochos during the negotiations. In Livy’s words, Flamininus bade Greek representatives “carry word back to their states that with the same courage and the same fidelity with which the Roman people had won their liberty from Philip, they would win it from Antiochos if he did not retire from Europe.” Diodoros presents this answer as coming from

106. Liv. 35.33.8 with Grainger, League, 435; Liv. 34.46.6; Plut. Flam. 15.1; Polyb. 3.7.3; App. Syr. 12. 107. Liv. 35.38.9–10 and 35.46.9–13. See also App. Syr. 12. 108. Polyb. 20.8.1 = Athenae. 10, p. 439e: Antiochos made this statement shortly before the battle of Thermopylae. 109. E.g., Phocaea: Polyb. 21.6.2 and Liv. 37.9.1–5. 110. Polyb. 3.1.3. 111. For putting together the versions of Livy and Diodoros and tracing them to Polybios: Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 35; Balsdon, “Flamininus,” 188; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 248–249. Cf. Badian, Studies, 126, 137 (who put together the versions of Livy and Diodoros and opposed them to that of Appian), followed in general by Seager, “Freedom,” 111. See also Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 144 n. 41, on the difference between Livy and Diodoros. 112. Liv. 34.59.4–5: renuntiarent civitatibus suis populum Romanum, qua virtute quaque fide libertatem eorum a Philippo vindicaverit, eadem ab Antiocho, nisi decedat Europa, vindicaturum.

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the senate and as declaring that “if Antiochos interfered at all in European affairs, the Romans would bend every effort to liberate the Greeks in Asia.” According to Appian, the senate responded that if “Antiochos will leave the Greeks in Asia independent, and keep away from Europe, he can be the friend of the Roman people if he desires.” The account of Livy stands apart: he presents this message as having been delivered by Flamininus in person, unlike what we read in Diodoros and Appian; he refers to the Roman war against Philip V as having been waged for the freedom of the Greeks, thus reflecting a later reinterpretation of this war; and, finally, Livy says nothing about the status of the Greeks in Asia, in spite of Rome’s having established contacts with Lampsacus and Smyrna. His silence on this matter looks suspicious if one remembers that Livy also concealed the failed Roman attempt to interfere on behalf of Smyrna and Lampsacus during the conference between the Romans and Antiochos at Lysimachea in 196. Ferrary, who followed Livy’s version, ended up by saying that Flamininus “presented the Seleucid presence in Thrace as a threat to the freedom of Greece.” Ferrary thus interpreted the words of Flamininus as concerning only those Greek cities in “Europe,” so that Flamininus allegedly said different things to the Greeks from what he had said to Antiochos’s ambassadors and, therefore, displayed a Machiavellian stance. But declaring that the Romans would protect the freedom of Greek cities should Antiochos invade Greece was selfevident and quite in line with the senatus consultum and Flamininus’s own declaration. The versions of Diodoros and Appian focus on the status of Greek cities in Asia. At base, these versions presented the senatorial response as containing essentially the same terms that Flamininus had offered to the envoys of Antiochos behind closed doors: should Antiochos cross into Europe, the Romans would defend their existing friendships with cities of Asia and establish new ones. Diodoros, however, changed the meaning of Flamininus’s statement in the sense that

113. Diod. 28.15.4; τῇ ἐχομένῃ τοˆι ς Ἕλλησιν ἡ σύγκλητος εἶπεν ὡς ἐὰν Ἀντίοχος περιεργάζηταί τι τῶν κατὰ τὴν Εὐρώπην, Ῥωμαˆι οι μετὰ πολλῆς σπουδῆς τοὺς κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν Ἕλληνας ἐλευθερώσουσιν. 114. App. Syr. 6: ἐὰν Ἀντίοχος αὐτονόμους τοὐς Ἕλληνας ἐᾷ τοὺς ἐν Ἀσίᾳ καὶ τῆς Εὐρώπης ἀπέχηται, Ῥωμαίοις αὐτὸν ἔσεσθαι φίλον, ἂν ἐθέλῃ 115. Cf. Polyb. 18.52.1–5 (see also n. 44 above) and Liv. 33.39.2–33.41.5 (see p. 197, n. 189). 116. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 145–146; but see p. 144 n. 41 (see n. 111 above); Ferrary, “Rome et les cités grecques,” 95: in 193, the Romans offered to defend the freedom of all Greeks, including those in Asia, if Antiochos advanced into Europe. Errington, “Rome,” 279. 117. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 144–146. Pace Seager, “Freedom,” 111. 118. Liv. 34.58.2–3 (see n. 88 above).

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if Antiochos’s army entered Europe, Rome would forcefully liberate cities of Asia, whereas Appian highlighted the topic of the “friendship” between Antiochos and Rome that was being negotiated. Other than that, Diodoros and Appian leave little doubt that in the negotiations between the Romans and Antiochos’s ambassadors at Rome, the Romans pledged to resist Antiochos in “Europe” and to protect the freedom of the Greek cities in “Asia.” This is what the Romans repeated to the Greeks after the negotiations between Rome and Antiochos’s envoys ended with no result. What this message concealed was the Roman offer to Antiochos’s ambassadors of a choice between delimiting the territories under Roman and Seleucid control on the one hand, and protecting the freedom of Greek cities in Asia on the other. Protecting the independence of cities by defining territorial limits was not anything new for the Romans: they had, for example, declared a war on Demetrios of Illyria, claiming that he had sent his navy beyond the borders that had been established in the treaty between Rome and Teuta, and that he had attacked Illyrian cities that were under Roman protection. The problem was that since the Illyrian dynasts had been defeated by Rome, Demetrios had to observe the conditions of his treaty with the Romans, whereas Rome had neither defeated Antiochos nor made a treaty with him. Thus the only argument that the Romans could offer in the face of Antiochos’s advance was to protect the “freedom” of the Greeks. The negotiations between Rome and Antiochos’s ambassadors in 193, and the subsequent Roman message to the representatives of Greek cities, once again revealed the precarious position of the Romans in Greece. When, following Flamininus’s declaration at the Isthmian games of 196, three of the ten commissioners were sent to Antiochos, they disputed his claim to those Greek cities that had belonged to Philip and declared they would defend the autonomy and freedom of Greek cities, just as Antiochos did. But they could only wonder “on what pretext the King had crossed to Europe with such large military and naval forces. For anyone who judged correctly could not suppose that the reason was any other than that he

119. Balsdon, who leaned on Diodoros’s version, projected this misinterpretation into the preceding negotiations between the Romans and the envoys of Antiochos; Balsdon, “Flamininus,” 188: “[T]he Roman negotiators suggested that war could be avoided if Antiochus withdrew from Europe; if he refused, Rome would consider herself free to take aggressive action to free the Greek cities in Asia.” For this opinion, see also Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 35; Seager, “Freedom,” 111; Carawan, “Graecia,” 237; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 145–146; Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 337; Eckstein, Mediterranean Anarchy, 300–301. 120. Badian, Studies, 12. It does not matter here if Demetrios’s actions indeed constituted a breach of the treaty or were only interpreted as such by Rome; see ibid., 13–14. 121. Polyb. 18.50.6, 18.51.9.

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was trying to put himself in the way of the Romans.” This was, certainly, hardly a valid argument even in the eyes of those of the Greeks who did not belong to Antiochos’s supporters. The Romans simply lacked any legitimate grounds for stopping Antiochos’s advance. This weakness of the Roman stance might explain why the Romans preferred to leave Greece in 194, probably under pressure from the Greeks themselves. It is precisely because of the Romans’ precarious position in Greece that Flamininus wanted so badly for Antiochos to acknowledge the division between the territories under Roman and Seleucid control, during the negotiations behind closed doors in 193. Antiochos’s agreement would legitimize the presence of the Romans in Greece and their right to interfere in Greek affairs. It is no wonder that the King refused. In return, Antiochos came up with the proposal of establishing an alliance with Rome. It is difficult to say if this was his true intention or merely a tool of propaganda in front of the Greek ambassadors who had convened in Rome at that time. It could have been both: the memory of the Roman defeat of Nabis, who had been a Roman “friend,” was still fresh. Nabis would be granted the treaty of alliance only after his defeat, as the Romans were preparing for the advance of Antiochos. Another Roman enemy, Mithridates VI of Pontus, would also possess Roman “friendship,” both his own and that inherited from his father, which offered him no protection against Rome herself. Nor would this “friendship” protect Rhodes from the threat of a Roman war later in the second century: establishing a “friendship” did not necessarily result in a formal agreement or treaty, which should mean that the position of being Roman “friend” offered no protection from Rome. Therefore, in practical terms, while “friends” could expect Roman help against a third party, the Romans were not impeded in any way from going to war against their “friends.” As Montesquieu perceptively noted, “although the title of being their ally entailed a kind of servitude, it was nevertheless much sought after. Those holding it were sure to receive insults only from the Romans.”

122. Polyb. 18.50.8–9, 18.51.3–7. Cf., however, Grainger, War, 92: at the negotiations at Lysimachea, “the Romans could show that they understood his work in Thrace and that they had no objections to it.” 123. Seager, “Freedom,” 109. Cf. Badian, Studies, 124. 124. Polyb. 18.48.4; App. Mithr. 12. 125. Liv. 45.25.9. For their “friendship”: Polyb. 28.2.1–2; Liv. 42.19.8, 42.46.6. On Rhodes and Rome: chapter 8. 126. Esp. Heuss, “Amicitia,” 31, 44, 46–54, 58. 127. Charles de Secondat, baron de Montesquieu, Considerations on the Causes of the Greatness of the Romans and Their Decline, trans. D. Lowenthal (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press; New York: Free Press, 1965), 69.

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Antiochos, who was already referred to as a Roman “friend” in 198, hardly bore any illusions about the meaning of Roman “friendship.” Therefore, we can compare this step by Antiochos with the arrival of the Carthaginian ambassadors in Rome in 348, who also came to seek “friendship and alliance.” The war between these two powers was still about a hundred years away, but the tensions were already mounting. The new treaty, therefore, eventually served to provide each side with guarantees of security. The purpose of Antiochos’s envoys in 193 would likely have been similar: the King wanted to have a legally defined status in his formal treaty with Rome. Being just a “friend,” Antiochos had no treaty with Rome, nor would he obtain one before the war, of course. More important, this proposal, if implemented, would have had an extremely negative effect on the Roman position in the Greek world. Antiochos’s offer was to delimit not the territories, as Flamininus suggested during the negotiations in Rome in 193, but the spheres of responsibilities, which highlighted his advantage over the Romans. He was the King whose dynastic rights were recognized by the Greeks, and a Greek himself, whereas the Romans had nothing to substantiate their claim for interfering in Greek affairs. It is not surprising, therefore, that Antiochos tried to establish an alliance with Rome after the conference of Lysimachea, and that the Romans rejected such proposals. His negotiations with the Romans failed not because Antiochos had “misjudged” the situation at Rome but because his offer of a treaty (consciously) left the Romans with no leg to stand on in Greece. Antiochos, therefore, continued along the same lines as in 196, when, as noted a long time ago by Holleaux, the Roman “diplomatic offense was a complete fiasco.” No wonder Galba raised his voice to the King’s ambassadors, harshly ordering them to accept one of the two options offered to them earlier by Flamininus: the Romans simply had no other argument left. They refused to accept Antiochos’s proposal, not because they

128. Liv. 32.8.13–16 (implying that Antiochos was a “friend” of Rome even before Flamininus crossed over into Greece), 33.20.8 (referring to the “friendship” as already in place), with Heuss, “Amicitia,” 35 (who discussed Liv. 32.8.13–16); Holleaux, Études, 5:157, 163 (who did not discuss Liv. 32.8.13–16, and thus spoke of this “friendship” as only having begun in 197); Grainger, War, 190; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 311 (late 200). See now S. Dmitriev, “Antiochos III: a friend and ally of the Roman people,” Klio 93 (2011), forthcoming. 129. Ambassadors: Liv. 7.27.2; cf. Polyb. 3.24.3. Treaty: Staatsverträge 2, no. 326 (348 b.c.). 130. Cf. Liv. 34.58.2–3 (see n. 88 above). On Roman reasoning in 193, see Liv. 34.57.11. 131. Liv. 34.25.2. Grainger, War, 101–104, put Antiochos’s proposal of alliance before the war against Nabis. 132. Liv. 34.59.2 (see n. 90 above). Pace Grainger, War, 133: “Since the embassy failed, it is evident that Antiochus misjudged the situation at Rome”; cf. Badian, Roman Imperialism2, 7: “an eastern king, overconfident in his strength refused to settle”; Errington, Hellenistic World, 216: “Minnion talked tough, convinced, according to Polybios, that if it came to war Antiochos would be bound to win, so there was no need for a compromise on the diplomatic issue”; and Holleaux, Études, 5:375. Galba: Liv. 34.59.1–2.

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did not want to have an “equal alliance” with him, but because of the negative implications this alliance would have for Rome’s position in Greece. The fact that the Romans waited for their ambassadors to return from Antiochos before starting a war on Nabis shows that the Romans did not exclude the possibility of a military conflict against Antiochos at that time. However, they had then no reason, and no pretext, for such a war. The Great King could have overestimated his military potential, but his stance toward the Romans was hardly a result of a miscalculation: his dynastic rights to territories in “Europe” had to be acknowledged (even if solely for maintaining his prestige in the eyes of the Greeks), and he did not see any reason why the Romans should or could interfere in the affairs of the Greeks. Antiochos’s reasoning was totally in line with the old Greek political idea that connected Greek freedom with Greek unity and independence of non-Greek domination. Therefore, in 193 Antiochos again proposed an alliance, which was once again rejected by the Romans. But although the Romans had avoided making an alliance with Antiochos, the only response to Antiochos’s advance into Europe that Rome could make was to enforce their old “friendships” with the Greek cities of Asia and to establish new ones. The situation in 193 was the same as it had been in 196: the Romans had no valid excuse for interfering in Greek affairs. What Livy, followed by some modern authors, presented as a Roman diplomatic victory was in fact the poorly concealed acknowledgment that the only Roman justification for a place in Greek politics was their alleged defense of Greek freedom, which the Greeks did not believe in and could certainly do without. Not surprisingly, the status of individual Greek cities in Asia Minor was the most important point of the negotiations between the Romans and Antiochos in 193, even though the two sides approached this problem from differing perspectives. Another round of their negotiations, which took place in Ephesus later in 193, focused exclusively on this question. Here, too, Antiochos proposed a treaty to the Romans and agreed to leave several cities in Asia “independent,” but the Romans obviously refused:

133. So Grainger, War, 137, 158. Cf. a discussion of “formal alliances” in n. 140 below. 134. Liv. 35.20.13–14 and 35.22.1–2. 135. Cf. Liv. 35.22.2. 136. Liv. 34.57.6–11; Diod. 28.15.2–4; App. Syr. 6. 137. Liv. 34.58.2–3 (see n. 88 above). Badian, Studies, 137 n. 70, and Errington, “Rome,” 279 thought that Livy’s words nisi decedat Europa (34.59.4–5; see n. 112 above) contradict the rest of his description of Flamininus’s pronouncement to the Greeks in 193. 138. Esp. Albert, Bellum, 73. 139. Liv. 35.16–17 with App. Syr. 12.

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such a treaty was not on their minds. Antiochos then got involved in negotiations with the Aetolians. He made an alliance with them and became the commander in chief of their joint forces. His war against the Romans had finally begun. The formal reason for the Roman declaration of war against the coalition of the Aetolians and Antiochos was the Aetolian occupation of Demetrias, one of the three “fetters” that Flamininus himself had freed in 194. Judging by Livy’s words, it was the occupation of an allied city (sociorum urbem) that made the Romans declare war on the coalition led by Antiochos against Rome—there is not a word in the Roman interpretation of the events to indicate that the Romans became involved in the conflict because of Greek freedom. But as the war started and the Romans crossed into Asia, Antiochos tried to sue for peace and offered to evacuate Lampsacus, Smyrna, and Alexandria Troas, as he considered these cities to be the main cause of his conflict with Rome. These cities, as we have seen, had contended for their freedom since 197–196, and it was their freedom that the Romans had pledged to protect.

c onclusion The Greek slogan of freedom could be used in more than one way. One can hardly doubt that the claim to preserve the freedom of a few Greek cities in Asia Minor was a mere pretext for Roman involvement in Greek affairs. Its real purpose was to secure Roman control over Asia Minor. Like Philip II in earlier times, the Romans realized that their rule over Greece would always remain threatened, insofar as the Greek cities of Asia continued to be controlled by the Great King. By declaring that they had given freedom to cities in Greece and would protect the freedom of Greek cities in Asia (i.e., those that already had it and those that had been freed after the Roman defeat of Philip V), the Romans procured for themselves both a place in Greek affairs on both sides of the Aegean sea and a

140. Cf. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 23: “It hardly looks as if Rome welcomed formal alliances.” Much depended, of course, on the situation: a formal alliance with the Aetolians in 211 was a matter of necessity for the Romans (Liv. 25.24.8–15), and Nabis, who was left in power to counterbalance the Achaeans’ influence, now that his might had been reduced by the Romans, received a treaty (foedus) from Rome: Liv. 35.13.3; pace Gruen, Hellenistic World, 24. 141. App. Syr. 12; Liv. 35.45.9. 142. Liv. 36.3.11; cf. 34.51.2–3. See Badian, Studies, 132–134. 143. Polyb. 21.13.1–3; Diod. 19.7. 144. E.g., Liv. 38.8.8: non paucis urbibus eum, de quarum libertate certatum sit. 145. E.g., Polyb. 21.4.5.

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casus belli against Antiochos, who wished to use the Roman defeat of Philip V in his own interests. The Roman peace treaty with Philip V and, more visibly, Flamininus’s declaration were aimed against Antiochos. The slogan of freedom helped the Romans to contain his aspirations and then to declare war against him. Meanwhile, the Romans used this slogan to curtail the power of Nabis and to rearrange the political situation in Greece, thus positioning themselves as power brokers among the Greeks. They would use this position to eliminate what survived of the Macedonian kingdom and to tear apart the last remaining powerful military alliance in Greece, the Achaean League.

146. Albert, Bellum, 75, 77. 147. See chapters 8 and 9, respectively.

p art t hree The Aftermath: From the Defeat of Antiochos III to the Destruction of Corinth i although after the final defeat of Antiochos III no major power remained in the Greek world against which the Romans could use the slogan of freedom in the same fashion as they had in 196, they continued to employ that slogan in other ways. An examination of how the Romans handled the slogan of freedom after 196, and especially after 189, helps us to understand not only new aspects of Rome’s relationship with the Greeks but also the transformation of Roman diplomatic practices and vocabulary.

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7 Roman Policy in Greece and Asia Minor

i According to the provisions of the senate, which were then ratified by the comitia, Philip V had to evacuate his garrisons from Greek cities that had been subject to him and to surrender these cities to the Romans. It was these cities that Flamininus and the Ten were required to take care of. They divided themselves into groups so they could speed up the process by dealing with communities in different regions of Greece at the same time. Flamininus was still carrying out the reorganization of Thessalian cities on the eve of his withdrawal of Roman troops from Greece in 194. To some of these cities he gave laws that probably remained in force even half a century later. Strabo documents a similar activity by Roman commissioners in Sparta, obviously after Nabis had already met his demise; Strabo’s strategoi were likely some of the commissioners or their representatives. As the Romans were strengthening their unchallenged domination over the Greek world, their use of “freedom” extended to defining the status of individual Greek cities. The concern of the following pages is not to establish which Greek cities were free

1. Liv. 34.51.4–6. See IG IX.2, 89b (= Syll.3 674 = Sherk, Documents, no. 9).50–53: κατὰ νόμους τοὺς Θεσσαλῶν, οἷς [νό]μοις ἕως τα[ν]ῦν χρῶν[τ]αι, οὓς νόμους Τίτος Κοΐ γκτιος ὕπατος ἀπὸ τῆς τῶν δέκα πρεσβευτῶν γνώμης ἔδωκεν (c.140) and 338 (= Syll.3 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33) (Chyretiae). The dating of the latter text: Armstrong and Walsh, “Letter,” 42; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 112 (“winter 195/4”). 2. Strabo 8.5.5, p. C 365.

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after the defeat of Antiochos in 189. It is hardly possible to accomplish this task because, among other things, even if our sources used the word “freedom,” the meaning of this word still needs to be defined, as we shall see below, and because the status of Greek cities as “free” has often been argued by referencing words other than “freedom.” The task of this chapter, therefore, is to examine the ways in which the Romans defined the “freedom” of individual Greek cities and how the Romans adjusted their diplomatic and administrative practices in Greece.

t he “ f reedom” of i ndividual g reek c ities and t heir o ther r ights The Romans traditionally understood “freedom” (libertas) as political independence (sua potestate), as we see in legal and etymological documents and historical narrations, including Livy’s description of the most well-known example of the deditio formula, in which Tarquin asked the people of Collatia three questions: if they wished to surrender, if they were free (estne populus Collatinus in sua potestate), and if they surrendered themselves and everything they had to him and to the Roman people. Roman “freedom” did not include or imply other rights, such as the right to use local laws (“autonomy”) or freedom from tribute (“immunity”), and therefore differed from Greek “freedom” (eleutheria), as has long been noted by modern authors. The most common explanation of Roman policy in Greece has been that the Romans modified their traditional approach to defining the status of individual cities, thus changing their original understanding of “freedom.” This new Roman definition of the status of individual cities can be surmised from the evidence on what other rights these cities had received from the Romans, in addition to “freedom.” The declaration of Flamininus (made on the basis of the senatus consultum, it should be remembered) had already proclaimed the “freedom” of the

3. For such lists: e.g., E. Bickerman, “Notes sur Polybe. I: Le status des villes d’Asie après la paix d’Apamée,” RÉG 50 (1937): 235–239; Magie, Rule, 958–959 n. 75; Schmitt, Untersuchungen, 278–288; Will, Histoire, 2:191–193; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 54–71, 93–96; Wiemer, Traditionen, 137–149. 4. E.g., Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 95: Paus. 10.35.2 (“autonomy”); Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 127–136, 136–137. 5. Procul., Dig. 49.15.7.1; Varro L.L. 9.6. 6. Liv. 1.38.1–2. See W. Dahlheim, “Deditio und societas: Untersuchungen zur Entwicklung der römischen Aussenpolitik in der Blütezeit der Republik” (diss., Munich, 1965), 86 n. 2; W. Dahlheim, Struktur und Entwicklung des römischen Völkerrechts im dritten und zweiten Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Munich: [Vestigia], 1968), 103 n. 71; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30. 7. E.g., Serv. ad Aen. 3.20; Plin. NH 3.7; cf. 3.12; 5.29–30. 8. E.g., Mommsen, Staatsrecht3, 3:655–658; Welles, “Liberty,” 29–47; G. Crifò, Su alcuni aspetti della libertà in Roma (Modena: Società tipografica, 1958), 4, 27–28, 35–37. 9. E.g., A. H. M. Jones, “Civitates liberae et immunes in the East,” in Anatolian Studies Presented to W. H. Buckler, ed. W. M. Calder and J. Keil (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1939), 106.

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Greeks in general terms, in addition to other rights they received from Rome, such as “freedom from being garrisoned,” “freedom from taxes,” and “freedom to use ancestral laws,” which alone suggests that Flamininus’s declaration was modeled on earlier Greek pronouncements of Greek freedom. In fact, we see this situation even before the word “freedom” started to be used: according to the peace of Nicias (421), so long as the cities restored by the Spartans to the Athenians continued to pay the tribute that had been fixed in the time of Aristides, they were to remain “independent” (autonomous), whereas Artaxerxes II promised to the Greeks in 395 that they would remain “autonomous” so long as they carried on paying the old tribute. Later in the fourth century, the evidence for Greek cities having received the grants of “freedom” together with other rights emerged as part of the development of the idea of Peace. This situation is well documented in the decree of Aristotle, or the “charter” of the Second Athenian Confederacy, in 377; the Peace of 375; the Charter of the Corinthian League, founded by Philip II in 338–337, as renewed by Alexander in 336 and (unsuccessfully) by Polyperchon in 319; in Alexander’s policy with respect to individual Greek cities; and in the declaration issued by the Symmachy of Philip V in 220, which should have been based on the same principles laid down by Antigonos Doson when he refounded, as most seem to agree, the Hellenic League in c.223. In the Hellenistic period, as soon as a ruler’s power became secure and his rule over the territory that he controlled was recognized, he would proceed to establish relations with individual cities that lay within the borders of his kingdom: the ruler’s acknowledgment of the status of a city (which was defined by the use of “freedom” and other rights and privileges, or by their absence) was reciprocated by the city’s goodwill toward him. Additional rights, such as freedom from tribute or freedom from being garrisoned, could then be given (or withdrawn) independently from “freedom” by major political powers, including Macedonian and then Hellenistic rulers. The surviving evidence, relevant to Rome’s dealings with individual Greek cities in the 190s and afterward, reveals the same situation. One right that Greek cities could receive from Rome in addition to “freedom” was immunity, that is, the right to not pay taxes. Messala’s response to Menippos

10. The declaration in Polyb. 18.46.5; Liv. 33.32.5; Plut. Flam. 10.4; App. Mac. 9.4; Val. Max. 4.8.5: liberas atque immunes. The senatus consultum: Polyb. 18.46.15. See also Liv. 33.33.7; Val. Max., loc.cit. 11. As Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans,” 742. 12. Thuc. 5.18.5; Xen. Hellen. 3.4.25, 4.8.1. 13. See chapter 1. 14. R&O 22 (= IG II2 43 = GHI 123 = Syll.3 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257).15–25. 15. The Peace of 375: Diod. 15.38.2; the Corinthian League: [Dem.] 17.8, 15; Diod. 18.56.2–8. 16. Alexander: chapter 2 and Appendix 7. Antigonos: Polyb. 2.54.4–5; Diod. 19.61.4; the Symmachy: Polyb. 4.25.6–7.

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from Teos distinguished between the status of that city and its obligation to pay taxes as early as 193. In the same year, Antiochos’s ambassadors to the negotiations in Rome refuted—judging by their words in Livy’s rendition—the Roman claim as to which Greek cities Antiochos should make free, immune, or free from royal garrisons. This passage indicates that the Romans in Greece also made a distinction between Greek cities’ status as “free” and their obligation to accept garrisons. The Romans probably showed their awareness of the complexity of a city’s status before the Second Macedonian war, as demonstrated by Flamininus’s demand to Philip (on senatorial instructions) at the conference at Aous in 198 that all Greece should be left “ungarrisoned and autonomous.” However, since a more detailed account of Livy does not contain such evidence, the reliability of Diodoros’s text on this point has been questioned. His text could come from, or be related to, the now lost part of the text of Polybios, in contrast with Livy’s “annalistic tradition.” The fact that the Romans made a clear distinction between the “free” status of a city, the immunity of this city, and its freedom from being garrisoned can be seen several decades later, after the Roman victory over Perseus. In a similar fashion, the Romans distinguished between the “freedom” of individual Greek cities and the right of these cities to use their own property. The letter from the Scipio brothers to people of Heraclea by Latmus in 189 said as follows: “We grant to you freedom, as we have also to other cities that have surrendered absolutely to us, and [we grant to you], keeping all your possessions, to govern yourselves according to your own laws. We accept your kindness and your pledges of good faith and shall ourselves try to be second to none in the requital of favors.” This letter—like the senatus consultum on the peace treaty with Philip (197); Flamininus’s subsequent declaration (196); and his response to Nabis in 195 (though it is difficult to establish exactly what he said to the ruler of Argos, since the account by Polybios is lost)—also shows that Rome likewise acknowledged the difference between the freedom of Greek cities and their right to use their laws. Greek sources had marked a distinction between the “freedom” of Greek cities and their right to use their laws (this is how “autonomy” in such cases has been understood) long before the Romans became involved in Greek affairs.

17. Messala’s response: Syll.3 601 (= IGR IV 1557 = Sherk, Documents, no. 34 = Rigsby, Asylia, no. 153).19–21 (see also n. 278 below). Roman claim: Liv. 34.57.10. 18. Diod. 28.11; Livy 32.10. A summary of opinions: Eckstein, “Polybius,” 47 n. 12. 19. Liv. 45.26.12; Diod. 31.8.6. 20. Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15 (189 b.c.) with Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 151–152. The date: M. Wörrle, in Chiron 18 (1988): 429–430. 21. The SC: Polyb. 18.44.2. The declaration: Polyb. 18.46.5, 15. The response to Nabis: Liv. 34.32.4. 22. See, e.g., p. 6, n. 6.

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“Freedom” could be mentioned side by side with “autonomy,” as it was at Miletus when Antigonos’s generals aided that city in 313, or at Athens, as we can see from the honorific decree for Phaedros Sphettios around 275–274. However, when cities received “freedom” together with the freedom to use their laws, the latter privilege was specifically spelled out as the right of the city to use local laws, without employing the word “autonomy.” This happened when Alexander granted the Lydians the right to use their “laws of old” together with “freedom,” or when Antiochos I gave these rights to the cities of the Ionian koinon, or when Antiochos II restored “autonomy” together with “democracy” to Miletus, or when Philip’s Symmachy proclaimed that the Greeks “should remain in possession of their cities and lands, without garrisons, exempt from tribute, and free, in the enjoyment of their traditional constitutions and laws.” This evidence indicates that, like earlier Greek pronouncements, Flamininus’s declaration only confirmed the existing situation: this declaration neither intended nor expected to grant “freedom” and “autonomy,” as well as any other rights mentioned by Flamininus. Adapting the Greek approach, which treated the city’s “freedom” as a composite of several rights, gave the Romans a possibility of establishing and controlling the status of cities in a much more refined way: such rights could be given or withdrawn on an individual basis. It has recently been argued that “the three words αὐτονομία, δημοκρατία, or ἐλευθερία, used interchangeably or in combination, designate fully free government: they are used by truly independent states”; that “such phrases as ‘free and exempt from tribute,’ ‘free and exempt from garrisons’ spell privileges out, rather than imply that a city could be free, yet pay tribute”; and “that freedom and exemption from tribute are (or should be) synonymous emerges from a comparison of the Livian and the Polybian accounts of the Roman settlement of Asia Minor in 188.” However, as we have seen earlier, even before the coming of the Romans, the “freedom” of Greek cities coexisted with their obligation to pay tribute and accept garrisons. This situation continued into the Roman period. And, in fact, the evidence about the Apamean settlement shows that the freedom of a city was quite compatible with that city’s obligation to pay tribute. The above-mentioned letter from the Scipio

23. Diod. 19.75.3 (Miletus); Syll.3 409.35 (Athens). 24. Arr. 1.17.4; OGI 222.16–18 (280–261 b.c.); OGI 226 (261–246 b.c.); Polyb. 4.25.6–7 (220 b.c.). 25. Cf. Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 282–283, who came quite close to the problem of the historical development of the concept of freedom. See also the Epilogue. 26. Ma, Antiochos, 161 and 162, with reference to Liv. 37.56.4–6 and Polyb. 21.24.6–9, 21.45.2–3. Cf. Holleaux, Études, 3:153 n. 1, on the cases in which “democracy” was equivalent to “autonomy.” 27. E.g., Polyb. 21.45.1–12; Liv. 38.39.8–17, with Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30, 33, 34, 112 n. 122.

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brothers preserved the “freedom” and other rights of the people of Heraclea by Latmus in 189. Two years later, the consul M. Aemilius Lepidus made the successful motion that gave freedom and the right to use its own laws to Ambracia. After the Roman victory over Perseus, the Macedonians received freedom and the right to use their own laws, as well as the right to retain their possessions. The search for the moment when the traditional Roman approach to the status of individual cities started to change has been focused either on the early second century, sometimes with a specific reference to the Apamean settlement, or on the aftermath of the First Punic war. Some of the confusion surrounding this debate has been caused by applying the Latin phrase civitates liberae to Greek “free cities,” as we see in the works by Elias Bickermann, who used Roman terms (civitas foederata, civitas sine foedere libera et immunis) to define the status of Greek cities under Alexander the Great, and those that have been published more recently. This approach is, of course, quite misleading. First, the Latin expression conceals the difference between the status of, and the Roman approach to, “free cities” in the Latin West and the Greek East. Second, the status of “free cities” in the Greek East has been acknowledged as something not clearly defined: an opinion has been expressed that the Romans did not always have an established definition for “free cities” in the Greek East or that their understanding of the status of such cities evolved over time. Roman grants of “freedom” (eleutheria) together with “freedom from paying taxes” (aneisphoria) implied, however, that the former was compatible with paying taxes. This is what we see in Greece in the pre-Roman period as well. Therefore, by submitting (some) free Greek cities to this obligation, the Romans hardly introduced a new practice to the Greeks. Finally, one can hardly

28. Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–12 (see n. 20 above). 29. Liv. 38.44.4: in libertate essent ac legibus suis uterentur. 30. Liv. 45.29.4 (168). The Illyrians probably received the same “package”: Diod. 31.8.2 and Plut. Aem. 28.6. 31. E.g., Badian, Clientelae, 88–89 (190–189 b.c.; and n. 33 below); Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30–34, 112 n. 122. 32. Cf. Walbank, Hellenistic World, 237. 33. E.g., Badian, Clientelae, 37: “the concept” of the civitas libera “must date back to the First Punic war,” and 42: the future of the civitas libera “was really in the second century and in the East”; Bernhardt, “Entstehung,” 55. 34. Cf. E. Bikerman, in RPh 13 (1939): 335–349; Bikerman, Institutions, 148. 35. E.g., Badian, Clientelae, 37; Dahlheim, Gewalt, 186–190; Orth, Machtanspruch, 94; J. Rich, “Patronage and Interstate Relations in the Roman Republic,” in Patronage in Ancient Society, ed. A. Wallace-Hadrill (London and New York: Routledge, 1989), 121; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 6–10, and an overview by Bernhardt, Rom, 30–33. 36. Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30, 108–113; see also Mommsen, Staatsrecht3, 3:682–684. 37. For such evidence from classical Greece: Tritle, A New History, 32; from the late Republican and early imperial periods: Bernhardt, “Immunitas,” 190–207.

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speak about civitas libera as a generic concept, even as late as the mid-second century, where our investigation ends. “Free” cities in the Greek East had different rights and, therefore, a different status from those in the Latin West. The “process of the assimilation of various sorts of freedom” is thought to have started in the late second century, and the position of “free cities” in the Greek East was different from the position of civitates liberae in the Latin West, where we can indeed speak about a great deal of uniformity in the status of such cities. The discrepancy in this field between the east and the west shows that the Romans had no universally rigid approach to local communities. Nor is there any valid ground directly to connect the emergence of “free cities” in the Greek East with the establishment of Roman provinces. It is true, of course, that in later times, that is, in the late Republican and the imperial periods, the freedom of a city meant its freedom from the authority of the provincial governor. But this does not mean that free Greek cities appeared only at the foundation of Roman provinces. Nor is there any evidence to support the idea that civitates liberae in Sicily were founded on the basis of the lex provinciae. In fact, as we shall see shortly, the status of these cities, including their “freedom” and other rights, could have been established by individual agreements of various sorts. Also, Messala’s response to Menippos (193) and the letter of the Scipio brothers to Heraclea by Latmus (189) show that the Romans began to give “freedom” together with other rights to individual cities in Greece and Asia Minor long before the establishment of Roman provinces in those territories. The Romans obviously viewed such cities as “free” at that time, and there is no reason that we should not do the same. “Freedom” in pre-provincial times should have been, first and foremost, freedom from the imperium (or, in other words, freedom from coercion) of Roman military commanders. Summing up, if we leave aside the references to “freedom” and other rights that were offered in the general declaration of Flamininus in 196 (which was based on the senatus consultum of 197), then the earliest verifiable evidence for individual

38. It is necessary to stress here that the present investigation is not concerned with the problem of the status of civitates liberae in the late Republican and imperial periods. 39. Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 108–113. 40. Cf. Jones, “Civitates,” 109–112; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30, 97–100; Bernhardt, “Entstehung,” 49. 41. E.g., Syll.3 785.16–17 (Chios, a.d. 5–14). 42. E.g., Dahlheim, Gewalt, 215; A. Pinzone, Provincia Sicilia: Ricerche di storia della Sicilia romana da Gaio Flaminio a Gregorio Magno (Catania: Prisma, 1999), 1–37. 43. Messala’s response: Syll.3 601 (= IGR IV 1557 = Sherk, Documents, no. 34 = Rigsby, Asylia, no. 153).19–21 (nn. 17 above and 278 below); the Scipios’ letter: Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10– 15 (n. 20 above). 44. The declaration of Flamininus: Polyb. 18.46.5 (see n. 10 above and p. 154, n. 60, for other relevant sources).

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Greek cities receiving “freedom” together with other rights from the Romans belongs to the early 180s and consists of the letter of the Scipio brothers to Heraclea by Latmus in 189 and the reference by Cn. Manlius Vulso to the senate in 187 that established the freedom and immunity of Greek cities after Antiochos had been forced beyond the Taurus mountains. Similar information emerges, however, in the third century from southern Italy and Sicily. For example, the Sicilians and M. Claudius Marcellus agreed in 212 that “all that had anywhere belonged to the kings should belong to the Romans, that everything else should be secured to the Sicilians along with freedom and their own laws.” Two years later, the Roman opinion was still that Syracuse “should have been confirmed in the possession of its former laws and its freedom.” In the following year (209), another Greek city, Tarentum, negotiated with the Romans for peace with freedom and the right to use its own laws. The praetor sent by Scipio to the Locrians in 204 announced that their freedom and laws had been restored to them by the Roman people and the senate. According to the speech of L. Furius Purpurio at the Panaetolian congress in 200, the Romans had restored to the people of Rhegium their possessions, including their territory, as well as their freedom and laws. Such evidence can be coupled with Cicero’s later reference to the status of several Sicilian cities as “free” and in possession of their laws and territory, or as “free” and immune, which they allegedly received in the aftermath of the First Punic war. A debate has been waged, therefore, as to whether we should date the beginning of this change in Roman attitude to the late third century or the second century. The following observations can be made on the basis of the available evidence. First, what happened in southern Italy and Sicily in the third century were the origins of the future system used in Rome’s relations with individual cities, which both sides in this debate seem to have acknowledged. Second, our sources regarding Roman acknowledgment of the status of Greek cities in southern Italy and Sicily in the third century not only are few in number but also belong to much

45. The Scipios’ letter: Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15 (see n. 20 above); the reference by Cn. Manlius Vulso: Liv. 38.48.4. 46. Tarentum: Liv. 25.28.3, 26.32.2, 27.21.8. Locri: Liv. 29.21.7. Rhegium: Liv. 31.31.6–7. 47. E.g., Cic. Verr. 2.2.90 and 2.3.13. As, e.g., Badian, Clientelae, 39–40; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 54. 48. For the difficulty of interpreting such evidence, because of its limited amount and often ambiguous nature, see, e.g., K. Lomas, Rome and the Western Greeks, 350 BC–AD 200: Conquest and Acculturation in Southern Italy (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 77–84. 49. Cf. Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 30; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 11–12. However, Badian (Clientelae, 37) spoke about the emergence of “the principle” or “the concept” of the civitas libera after the First Punic war (see n. 33 above); cf. Dahlheim, Gewalt, 186–190 (“the starting point”).

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later times: all of the relevant information comes mostly from Cicero and Livy, roughly contemporaries, who lived in the first century b.c. Such references, therefore, could well have reflected a later vision of the status of individual Greek cities. Finally, and even more important, one needs to make clear the way in which Greek cities in southern Italy and Sicily obtained their “freedom” and other rights from Rome in the third century. If these cities received “freedom” and other rights as a result of surrendering to Roman discretion (deditio in fidem), so that “freedom” and other rights were granted by the Romans on their own initiative, this would mean that the Romans themselves had established such status for Greek cities in the third century. In other words, it means that the Romans had already developed the idea of the composite status of Greek cities by that time. We know that quite a number of Sicilian cities gave themselves to Roman fides in the late 260s and that at least some of them were mentioned by Cicero as liberae et immunes. There is no indication, however, that these cities ever received “freedom” together with other rights (e.g., immunity, freedom from being garrisoned, or the freedom to use the city’s own laws) as a result of their surrender in Roman fides. First, our evidence comes from a much later time, and we simply do not know exactly when these cities obtained their freedom and other rights. Their status could have been established at a later date, which may explain why their status varied from city to city in the early imperial period. For example, Pliny’s list of Sicilian communities (perhaps as a reflection of the situation in the first century a.d.) included Centuripini and Segestani among communities of the Latin right (Latinae condicionis), and Halasini and Halicuenses among tribute-paying communities (stipendiarii), whereas the status of Panormus on Pliny’s list remains unknown. Whether or not the change in their status could have been caused by Augustus’s policy, one can hardly deny that the Roman approach to defining the status of individual cities, as we see it in Pliny’s text, was different from that of the Greeks. Second, even if Greek cities in southern Italy and Sicily had indeed received their status in the course of, or as a result of, the First Punic war, the evidence we have shows that these cities obtained their status from the Romans in more than one

50. This question has been asked but left without answer by Rich, “Patronage,” 121: “The origin of the status of ‘free cities immune from taxation’ (civitates liberae et immunes) held by certain Sicilian cities remains obscure.” 51. E.g., Diod. 23.4.1. Alaisa and Centoripa, which surrendered to Rome in 263 (Diod. 23.4.1), were referred to by Cicero as having the status of a civitas sine foedere immunis ac libera; Cic. Verr. 2.3.13. 52. Plin. NH 3.90–91, with R. Bernhardt, in Historia 31 (1982): 348: the situation in the “East” was quite different. 53. As Bernhardt seems to have implied (pp. 351–352); see also R. J. A. Wilson, in CAH2 10 [1996]: 435–439.

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way. For example, Locri and Rhegium forged a common cause with Rome: the people of Locri fought side by side with the Romans and then found it possible to complain of maltreatment by Roman officers and soldiers in front of the Roman senate, whereas Rhegium asked for a Roman military contingent, which it needed for protection (hence, probably, Polybios’s reference to the people of Rhegium as Roman “allies”), and when the soldiers started to mistreat the locals, the city appealed to the senate against what was considered outrageous even by the Roman authorities. Both cases thus testify to the existence of certain agreements between these cities and Rome, which served as the basis for subsequent complaints. Other Greek cities in southern Italy and Sicily, which also appear to have had their “freedom” together with other rights, are known to have surrendered to the Romans on certain conditions, that is, in the form of a prearranged surrender, as did Syracuse in 212 and Tarentum in 209. These cities bargained with Rome to preserve their status in the way that was familiar to them, such as asking for “freedom” together with other rights. In particular, Syracuse, which the Romans attained after a three-year siege in 212, was both “captured” by force, and thus in the potestas of Rome, and “freed” from “foreign tyrants,” that is, Carthaginian agents Hippocrates and Epicydes. Bickermann established a parallel between the position of Syracuse in 212 and that of Heraclea by Latmus in 190, arguing that both were subject cities. However, the Syracusans had “freedom,” other rights, and the status of Roman “friends and allies” in 210, which they obtained as a result of their prearranged surrender to Marcellus in 212. The situation with Heraclea was different because Heraclea unconditionally surrendered to Roman fides and received her “freedom” and other rights by the Roman grace. It follows, therefore, that a mere reference to some city surrendering to the Romans is not enough by itself to clarify the subsequent status of that city and its relationship with Rome. Much depended on whether this was an unconditional surrender of the city to Roman trust (fides), when the status of the city was to be established by the Romans at their will, or if it was a prearranged surrender, where the city had negotiated its status, such as “freedom” and other rights, before surrendering to the Romans.

54. Liv. 29.6.17, 29.7.3. Complaints of the Locrians: Liv. 29.9.11, 29.19.1–2 (to P. Scipio), 29.16.4- 29.19.13, incl. 29.19.7: the Locrians were to be declared “allies and friends” (socios et amicos). 55. Liv. 31.31.6–8; Polyb. 1.7.12. 56. Liv. 25.28.3, 26.32.2; Eckstein, Senate, 159–160: “Marcellus’s agreement with Syracuse.” 57. Liv. 27.21.8: Tarentinorum legatis pacem petentibus cum libertate ac legibus suis. 58. Liv. 31.31.8. 59. E. Bikerman, review of Heuss, Grundlagen, AC 5 (1936): 472. 60. 210: Plut. Marcell. 23.4, 6–7. For 212, see Appendix 9. 61. Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15 (see n. 20 above).

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The latter case was not limited to the Romans, as one can see from the negotiations between Tarentum and Hannibal only three years before the Tarentines surrendered themselves to Rome. In the words of Livy, the city and Hannibal agreed that the Tarentines would remain free, with their own laws and possessions, enjoying freedom from tribute and freedom from being garrisoned. The people of Tarentum had thus extracted a pledge from Hannibal, preserving their freedom and other rights or, to put the same idea in other words, here, as on several other occasions, Hannibal adopted Greek diplomatic vocabulary when dealing with the Greeks and Italians. In a similar fashion, in the cases of Syracuse and Tarentum, the Romans merely adjusted their treatment of individual Greek cities in accordance with the existing diplomatic practices in southern Italy and Sicily. Therefore, this evidence offers us no grounds for thinking that it was a Roman habit to distinguish between the “freedom” and other rights of individual cities at that time. This also means that since the Greek cities often obtained their “freedom” together with other rights as a result of their surrender (deditio) to Rome, we need to have a look at the Roman practice of deditio as well.

“ f reedom” and d editio Deditio has been one of the most debated topics in Roman republican foreign politics, largely in connection with the following three closely interwoven problems: (1) the relationship between Latin fides and Greek pistis; (2) whether the meaning of fides in the expression deditio in fidem changed over time; and (3) the relationship between deditio and deditio in fidem. They will be examined here in turn.

The Relationship between Roman Fides and Greek Pistis The most frequently discussed episode, in conjunction with the relationship between Latin fides and Greek pistis, concerns the failed Aetolian surrender to Roman fides, which will be briefly summed up here. According to Polybios, the Aetolians considered surrendering themselves to Roman fides in 191 because they had

62. Hannibal and Tarentum: Liv. 25.8.8 (212 b.c.). For Hannibal and Italians, see, e.g., A. Erskine, “Hannibal and the Freedom of the Italians,” Hermes 121 (1993): 58–62, incl. 59: “In posing as liberators of Italy the Carthaginians were speaking the diplomatic language of the Greek world of the Hellenistic East.” Erskine, however, remained skeptical and believed that Polybios likely interpreted Hannibal’s actions in accordance with Greek diplomatic practices and vocabulary. 63. Cf. Diod. 14.93.5: when the Romans captured Lipara (in 252 or 251 b.c.?), they gave immunity from taxes and freedom to the descendants of Timasitheüs, whom they had honored with the right of public hospitality in 393.

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been deceived by this word and expected mercy from the Romans. In the words of Livy, who does not say anything about the deception of the Aetolians, they merely thought that the Romans would be ashamed to harm the supplicants, while expecting themselves to be free (sua potestate) from any obligations to Rome. However, the victorious consul M.’ Acilius Glabrio left no doubts that the act of deditio in fidem meant total unconditional surrender to the mercy of Rome, which put the Aetolians under the complete control of the Romans, who were free to treat them as they pleased. Soon afterward, at the beginning of 190, the Aetolian ambassadors received two options from the Roman senate: “either they should entrust themselves to the free discretion of the senate, or they should pay one thousand talents and consider the same peoples as friends and enemies,” according to both Polybios and Livy. A comparison of their texts reveals that liberum arbitrium de se permitterent had the same meaning as τὸ τὴν ἐπιτροπὴν δοῦναι, and that both expressions designated surrender to Roman fides or, in other words, deditio in fidem. The latter phrase, therefore, which Polybios translated with the help of pistis, meant unconditional surrender to Roman discretion. All enemies of Rome had to face this choice, including, for example, the Iberians in 205 b.c. and the Carthaginians before the ultimate demise of their city, as described by Mago in the words of Polybios. In the spring of 190, the two Scipio brothers contributed to another round of negotiations with the Aetolians; in particular, Publius told them about his kind treatment of those who had surrendered to him in Spain and Africa. His brother, however, ended up essentially repeating the message of the senate stating the two options from which the Aetolians had to choose. A new truce was established, so

64. Polyb. 20.9.11. 65. Liv. 36.27.8, who either did not know or did not want to acknowledge that Greek pistis attached a moral obligation to those who surrendered themselves, unless the Greek word was specifically used to translate the Latin fides (see below). His interpretation of the Aetolian position, therefore, was not necessarily correct but it did correspond to his overall picture of Aetolian perfidy (cf. Liv. 33.44.7; 35.34.4; 36.17.8), including making a treaty with Philip in 206 and thus, as the Romans claimed, breaking the treaty with Rome of 211 b.c. (see below). 66. Liv. 36.28.1, 36.28.4. Cf. Polyb. 20.10.7–8. Holleaux, Études, 5:418 (la “reddition à merci”). 67. Liv. 37.1.5 and Polyb. 21.2.4. 68. Pace those who saw epitrope as having a meaning similar to deditio, i.e., not to deditio in fidem: e.g., Musti, Polibio, 55, and G. Wirth, Rückschritte: Zur verlangten Dedition von 190 und den Schwierigkeiten des römisch-aetolischen Verhältnisses (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1995), 5 (with n. 11). See also G. Freyburger, “Fides et potestas, πίστις et ἐπιτροπή,” Ktèma 7 (1982): 177, 184, on epitrope as potestas. 69. Polyb. 20.9.11 (see n. 64 above); cf. Liv. 7.31.4 (the surrender of the Capuans in 343). The same expressions were used with respect to the responsibilities granted to Titus by the senate: Polyb. 18.12.1; Liv. 32.37.6. 70. Liv. 29.3.1–5; Staatsverträge 3, no. 544; Polyb. 36.5.5. 71. Polyb. 21.4.10–13.

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that the Aetolians could send another embassy to Rome. The senate responded as before: the Aetolians must either surrender to Roman discretion or have the same friends and enemies as the Romans (it was implied, it seems, that they also had to pay money). Finally, in 189 the new Roman commander M. Fulvius Nobilior presented an ultimatum to the Aetolians: “[H]e would not, he said, listen to the Aetolians treating for peace unless they were disarmed.” In the end, as a result of successful mediation by Athens and Rhodes, the Roman stance became less severe: the Aetolians had to pay 500 talents and had to have the same friends and enemies as the Romans. After the senators introduced certain amendments, the peace treaty was ratified. Because Polybios and Livy, our two main sources on this famous event, use pistis and fides, respectively, the traditional implication has been that the meanings of these words were the same or at least very close. Relying mostly on these two texts, Erich S. Gruen has suggested that (i) the Romans had used deditio in fidem in the same way before coming to Greece; (ii) the Greeks had a similar practice of the weaker surrendering to the pistis of the stronger; and, finally, (iii) Roman fides formed the “basis for Rome’s continuing championship of Greek libertas.” However, after the Aetolian ambassadors surrendered themselves and all the Aetolians to Roman fides and received Glabrio’s harsh demands in return, they exclaimed that this was “neither just nor Greek.” Glabrio then explained to them what it meant to surrender to Roman fides. Glabrio was of course speaking Latin; it can hardly be doubted that he was using the word fides. Narrating his response, Polybios again used the word pistis, even though, as one can see from his text, the purpose of Glabrio’s speech was to show that Roman fides was something quite different from Greek pistis. Roman negotiations with the Aetolians thus required a double explanation: first, by the Romans to the Aetolians and, then, by Polybios

72. Liv. 37.49.4. 73. Liv. 38.8.9. 74. E.g., Polyb. 21.25.10–11, 21.29–31; Liv. 38.3.7–8, 38.10.2–5. 75. Polyb. 21.30.1–5, 21.32.2–14; Liv. 38.9.9–12, 38.11.2–9. 76. See Diod. 29.9. A detailed summary: J. Linderski, “Cato Maior in Aetolia,” in Transitions to Empire, 378–391. 77. E.g., McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 155; Muylle, “Traité,” 408–409. For a similar conclusion on the basis of a philological analysis, see G. von Beseler, “Fides,” in Atti del Congresso Internazionale di diritto romano: Bologna e Roma, 17–27 aprile, 1933 (Pavia: Prem. tipografia successori F.iii Fusi, 1934), 1:150. 78. E. S. Gruen, “Greek πίστις and Roman fides,” Athenaeum, n.s., 60 (1982): 50–68; Rich, “Patronage,” 130–131. 79. Polyb. 20.10.2, 20.10.6; Liv. 36.27–28, incl. 36.28.4: quae moris Graecorum non sint. 80. Polyb. 20.10.7.

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to his readers. The explanations were obviously needed because although fides was not the same as pistis, pistis was the closest the Greeks, including Polybios, could find. In a similar fashion, the letter of the Scipios to Heraclea by Latmus, which is certainly a Greek translation of the Latin text, should have used [πίστις] in place of the Latin fides. The Greek phrase τὸ τὴν ἐπιτροπὴν δοῦναι in this letter rendered the meaning of the Roman deditio in fidem. Not surprisingly, both ancient and modern authors have used pistis as a translation of Latin fides, which, certainly, is not sufficient to prove that the two words had identical meanings. Livy offers another example of how the Greeks misinterpreted the meaning of fides. During Nabis’s conversation with Flamininus in 195, the Spartan king referred to the Carthaginians as having no respect for “a pledge of alliance” (societatis fides) and to the Romans as holding such pledges as most sacred, implying that he also had such a pledge (fides socialis) from Rome, which, he believed, would protect him against Roman aggression. Nabis’s words show that he did not have a treaty with Rome in 195; the peace of Phoenice in 205 listed him among the Roman adscripti without a treaty with Rome. His case was not the same as that of the Aetolians: Nabis never negotiated to surrender himself to Roman fides. Like the Aetolians in 191, however, Nabis, who was obviously speaking Greek and using the word pistis, misinterpreted the meaning of Roman fides: fides (socialis) put no obligations on the Romans, who started a war against Nabis soon after the above-mentioned conversation. A similar misunderstanding of the meaning of Roman fides likely happened at the attempted self-surrender of the Carthaginians, which occurred just prior to the final battle between Rome and Carthage: having surrendered themselves to Roman “discretion” (ἔδωκαν τὴν ἐπιτροπὴν περὶ

81. Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).8–9: παραγεγονότων ὑμῶν εἰς τὴν ἡμετέρα[μ πίστιμ] and 10–15 (see n. 20 above). See, e.g., Heuss, Grundlagen, 97–98; A. Piganiol, “Venire in fidem,” RIDA, 2nd ser., 5 (1948 [1950]): 342; Freyburger, “Fides et potestas,” 181, 183, and G. Freyburger, Fides: Étude sémantique et religieuse depuis les origines jusqu’ à l’époque augustéenne (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1986), 34. 82. See the same also in Polyb. 36.3.9, 36.4.1–3. 83. E.g., D.H. 5.68.4, 6.28.2; P. Boyancé, Études sur la religion romaine (Rome: École française de Rome, 1972), 91–103, 108, 112; L. Lombardi, Dalla “fides” alla “bona fides” (Milan: Giuffrè, 1961), 48–49; L. Harmand, Le patronat sur les collectivités publiques des origines au Bas-Empire (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1957), 87; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 41 n. 2; M. Dubuisson, Le Latin de Polybe. Les implications historiques d’un cas de bilinguisme (Paris: Klincksieck, 1985), 69–74; Koehn, KriegDiplomatie-Ideologie, 209. 84. Liv. 34.31.3–4. For the recurrent topic of fides Punica, see Boyancé, Études, 138–139; L. Prandi, in Contributi dell’Istituto di storia antica 6 (1979): 90–97; G. Brizzi, I sistemi informativi dei Romani: Principi e realtà nell’ età delle conquiste oltremare: 218–168 a.C. (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1982), 58; G. H. Waldherr, in Gymnasium 107 (2000): 193–222. 85. Nabis’s status with respect to Rome: chapter 6. 86. Such a possibility should not be excluded, however; cf. Liv. 34.40.3: Nabis’s envoy to Flamininus, Pythagoras, offered a complete submission to Roman discretion (arbitrio Romanorum).

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αὑτῶν), they appeared to be quite taken aback when faced with the Roman demand to give hostages and all their weapons to the Romans, so that Mago had to explain to them the real meaning of the Roman deditio in fidem. Finally, Polybios provides us with a story about the bitter response of Philopoemen to the Romans about 190. Philopoemen set Roman fides (or pistis, in the text of Polybios) toward Rome’s allies aside from “oaths” and “treaties,” thus implying that Roman fides did not carry with it either moral or legal obligations. The mere use of the words pistis and fides in the same or similar situations, therefore, does not allow us to hold the meanings of these words as identical, nor can we postulate that the Greeks and the Romans treated those who willingly surrendered to their mercy similarly. The reason Nabis had his hopes high in 195, and why the Aetolians were surprised four years later by what Roman fides actually meant, was that for the Greeks pistis was “good faith,” which implied one had a moral obligation with respect to those who had surrendered to his power. There is, certainly, such evidence from the pre-Roman period as well, and it concerns both those who surrendered and those to whom the surrender was offered. For example, once the Plataeans surrendered themselves to the Athenians (sometime in the late sixth century), the latter “had taken upon them many labors for the sake of the Plataeans”; it was the pistis of the Plataeans in Sparta in 427 that allowed them to think of the Spartans as Plataea’s “saviors” (soteres). The surrender of Amphipolis to Athens, even though the surviving sources do not use the word pistis, was undertaken to secure the safety (soteria) of the Amphiopolitai. The same principles later governed relations between Hellenistic rulers and Greek cities beginning in 311. Ptolemy (I) revealed this attitude toward Iasus: the city received his pledge (pistis) that its rights would be preserved so far as it remained loyal to him. Attalos I was particularly benevolent toward Smyrna because that city “had been most constant in its loyalty to him” (διὰ τὸ μάλιστα τούτους τετηρηκέναι τὴν πρὸς αὐτὸν πίστιν). For the same reason, this king

87. Polyb. 36.4–5. 88. Polyb. 1.7.12 and 24.13.3. 89. Pace M. Merten, “Fides Romana bei Livius” (diss., Frankfurt am Main, 1965), 34–37, 45, 47, on this episode as an example of the Romans’ neglect of fides, implying that fides could have had both moral and political obligations. 90. Plataea and Athens in Herodot. 6.108. The date of this event has been debated: according to Thucydides (3.68.5), the surrender of the Plataeans to the Athenians occurred in 519 b.c.; but the date of 509 has been suggested by Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 71–73 (with bibliography), 78. Plataea and Sparta: Thuc. 3.59.4. Cf. Xen. Hellen. 2.3.28: relations between Sparta and Athens in 404 were characterized by pistis kai philia and 29: “men make peace with enemies and become trusted by them (pistoi) again.” 91. FGrH 115 (Theopompos) F 42; Dem. 1.8; Syll.3 194; Isocr. 5.2–5; Aeschin. 2.70–72, 3.54; [Dem.] 7.27–28. 92. I.Iasos 2.49–51 (309–305 b.c.) and 3.2–4, 16–17, and 27 (after 305 b.c.).

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displayed a similar attitude toward Lampsacus, Alexandria Troas, and Ilium. The people of Gaza retained their “good faith” in Ptolemy V Epiphanes in 201, and the Dolopians did the same with respect to Philip V, before finally going over to the Aetolians in 189. Because it was based on moral duty, Greek pistis implied protection of the life and freedom of those who had surrendered. Xenophon narrates a story of the people who surrendered (sometimes with their families) to Agesilaos in the portion of his text where he speaks of Agesilaos’s unbroken reverence for religion and oaths. Although Xenophon says nothing about “good faith,” the context leaves no doubt that those who surrendered to Agesilaos expected to receive protection from him because of his moral obligation to the suppliants. The surrender of soldiers and rebels to the pistis of lawful kings, as was the case for the mutinous soldiers of Antiochos III in 220 or the Egyptian rebels against Ptolemy V in 197, was aimed at preserving their “life and freedom.” When describing how the people of the Phthiotic Thebes, captured by Philip V in 217, begged the Aetolians for refuge, Livy used the word fides, which was familiar to the Romans. Having established an alliance with Philip V, the Aetolians complained that Philip did not keep faith with them. The Greek pistis thus worked both ways: it committed those who asked for it and put certain obligations on those who offered it.

The Meaning of Fides in Deditio in Fidem Judging by the above-mentioned address of P. Scipio to the Aetolians, the Romans indeed gave kind treatment to those who had surrendered to Roman fides in Africa and Spain. As we have already seen, however, this fact alone offered no guarantees to the Aetolians. The letter of the Scipios to Heraclea by Latmus in 189 stated that the status and rights of all Greek communities that offered unconditional surrender to Roman “trust” were to be protected. The Latin original probably used fides in this place, which brings us to the second of the three problems

93. Attalos I: Polyb. 5.77.6, 5.78.6. Ptolemy V: Polyb. 16.22a.6. Philip V: Polyb. 21.25.6. 94. Xen. Ages. 3.1–4. 95. Polyb. 5.50.8 and 22.17.1; cf. 22.17.4 and 5: Ptolemy broke his word and eventually put the men to death. 96. Liv. 28.7.12. App. Mac. 4.2 (περὶ σφᾶς ἀπίστου γεγονότος). 97. Esp. S. Calderone, ΠΙΣΤΙΣ—FIDES: Ricerche di storia e diritto internazionale nell’ antichità (Rome: Tipografia S. Pio X, 1964), 45–52. 98. Polyb. 21.4.10–13 (see n. 71 above). 99. Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).8–9 (see n. 81 above) and 10–15 (see n. 20 above).

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noted above, namely, whether the meaning of fides always remained the same. This problem has received four interpretations, each based on a specific understanding of the interrelationship between the meanings of fides and pistis. The first interpretation, which holds that fides and pistis always had the same meaning, does not seem to have obtained any noticeable support. Another interpretation has been that Roman fides always carried within itself a moral obligation to those who voluntarily surrendered to Rome (the dediticii), whereas pistis, which did not have any such meaning originally, came to be modified in this sense only under Roman influence. The idea that fides always implied a moral obligation has long been expressed. However, as we shall see, although fides could have implied Rome’s moral obligation as part of her commitment to international treaties even in the earliest period of Roman history, no indication exists that fides ever referred to the guaranteed benevolent treatment of the dediticii, either at that time or later. This interpretation, therefore, cannot be accepted for the same reason as the first: it does not explain the confusion surrounding the surrender of the Aetolians. Why should the Aetolians have been surprised by the Roman explanation of fides? Why should they have called the Roman practice “unjust”? Why did Polybios have to provide a special explanation of the Roman practice? Finally, why should this controversy have emerged at all, if Roman fides guaranteed protection to the dediticii? The last two suggested interpretations argue for the change of the meaning of fides over time. According to one of them, Roman fides was originally associated with a commitment to the dediticii and then lost this meaning around the second century; the other claims that Roman fides implied no such commitment at first, but that its meaning became transformed as the Romans were more and more involved with the Greeks. The former opinion, most vocally expressed by André Piganiol, distinguishes between the evidence concerning the harsh treatment (“l’interpretation atroce”) of the dediticii in the second century (the Aetolians in 191, the Carthaginians in 147, and the Numantines in 133) on the one hand, and the benevolent treatment (“l’interpretation généreuse”) of the dediticii in earlier times, with reference to

100. The critique of this view: Merten, “Fides,” 3 n. 2; Freyburger, Étude, 246; Freyburger, “Fides et potestas,” 179–180. 101. Esp. Freyburger, Étude, 34–35; Freyburger, “Fides et potestas,” 180. 102. E.g., Boyancé, Études, 91, 92, 101–102, 126, followed by J. Heurgon, Rome et la Méditerranée occidentale jusqu’aux guerres puniques (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1969), 193, 320; Brizzi, I sistemi, 269, 273; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 156. 103. E.g., Piganiol, “Venire in fidem,” 343. 104. The Carthaginians: Polyb. 36.3.4–9. The Numantines: App. Iber. 95.

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Corcyra, Apollonia, and Issa on the other hand. Piganiol’s view is impossible to accept. Those who, like Piganiol, insist that the Roman fides was similar to the Greek pistis, even before the Romans came to Greece, refer to the ancient veneration of Fides in Rome and a coin from Locri Epizephyri. Evidence concerning the ancient veneration of Fides in Rome can be divided into three groups: (i). An excerpt from Agathocles of Cyzicus (fl. c. mid-third century b.c.) traces Rome’s name from Rhômê, Aeneas’s granddaughter, who founded the temple of Fides on the Palatine Hill. (ii). Several texts ascribe the beginning of the veneration of Fides in Rome to King Numa. Dionysios of Halicarnassus refers to the temple (hieron) of Fides publica (πίστεως δημοσίας) in Rome. Livy and Plutarch say the same thing. According to Plutarch, Numa taught the Romans that the oath by faith was the most solemn oath (τὴν μὲν Πίστιν ὅρκον ἀποδεˆι ξαι Ῥωμαίοις μέγιστον). Florus uses this episode to show that Numa civilized the Romans (religione atque iustitia gubernaret). (iii). The surviving part of Livy’s History mentions Numa as establishing the cult of Fides, with a yearly sacrifice and a “chapel” (sacrarium); and Julius Obsequens’s De prodigiis, while describing natural calamities that occurred after the appearance of the “Julian star,” reports that the strong wind tore bronze tablets (tabulae aeneae) “from the temple of Fides” (ex aede Fidei). This evidence indeed suggests that the Romans already had the idea of fides under the rule of the kings. Further evidence might point in the same direction. For example, Numa is also said to have given the Romans “the double-faced Janus, the trust (fides) of war and peace,” whereas the temple of Jupiter Fidius

105. Polyb. 2.11.5–6 (Corcyra), 8 (Apollonia), 10 (Epidamnus), 12 (Issa). Cf. Piganiol, “Venire in fidem,” 344, and, more recently, Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 121. 106. For its critique: e.g., J. Imbert, “Fides et Nexum,” in Studi in onore di V. Arangio-Ruiz nel XLV anno del suo insegnamento (Naples: Jovene, 1953), 1:345–347; J. Paoli, “Quelques observations sur la fides, l’imperium et leurs rapports,” in Aequitas und Bona Fides: Festgabe zum 70. Geburtstag von A. Simonius (Basel: Helbing & Lichtenhahn, 1955), 274–276. 107. FGrH 472 (Agathocles), F 5 = Fest., p. 269 (M). See M. Adriani, in Studi romani 4 (1956): 381–389; L. Richardson Jr., A New Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), 151, who distinguished between this temple (which is “never mentioned elsewhere”) and that of Fides publica that is examined below. 108. D.H. 2.75.2–3; Liv. 1.21.3; Plut. Num. 16.1; Flor. 1.1.2.1–4. 109. Liv. 1.21.3–4; Jul. Obs. 68. For the same event, see also D.C. 45.17.3. 110. Flor. 1.2.3: Ianumque geminum, fidem pacis ac belli.

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housed the shield with the text of the ancient treaty with Gabii from the reign of the last Tarquinius, even though we do not know exactly when the Romans placed this shield there. But does such evidence support the idea that Roman fides had always offered benevolent treatment to the dediticii? Fides (publica) regulated Roman international activity in the sense of Roman “loyalty” to, or “trust” in, treaties and other obligations. Fides, therefore, laid a claim to the traditionally just nature of Roman foreign policy. Roman historical and literary texts also use cognates of the word fides in many references to the pax fida (i.e., a “trustworthy peace” that was maintained unbroken by both sides), which was used by Livy with reference to the famed Etruscan king Lars Porsenna and to the senatorial response to the embassy from Privernum in 329; by Valerius Maximus with respect to the Mauretanians, Numidians, and other peoples of the region who were not able to establish a lasting peace because of their savagery; and in Tacitus’s description of the “long-lasting and trustworthy peace” (continua ac fida pax) with the Gauls. The opposite concept was that of the the pax infida, or a “treacherous peace” that could not be trusted and could turn into a war at any moment. Livy tells us about the Roman commander, who preferred a victory in battle against the Volsci to a “treacherous peace” with these people in approximately the mid-fifth century, and that the Romans considered the peace with Antiochos to be “untrustworthy” (pax infida) after the King crossed into Europe in command of his army in 195; Paterculus marks a “treacherous peace” as the one that did not preclude preparations for a war; Sallust speaks of the fear that the peace with Carthage was “untrustworthy”; and Italicus narrates on the “untrustworthy peace” with Carthage, whereas Tacitus speaks of the “sullen and untrustworthy peace” (infensa et infida pax) with the peoples of Britain. Such treaties of peace, whether “trustworthy” or “treacherous,” were expected to be maintained by both parties because they had been established as the result of agreements from both sides. The Romans used fides to emphasize the “trust” of the Romans in the treaties that they concluded, that is, their faithful observance of all their obligations, and, by extension, to present the Roman foreign policy, including declaring wars and maintaining peace, as always just and trustworthy. In this sense, fides publica would later resurface on imperial coinage, often accompanied by the images of two clasping hands, thus representing “trust” and “loyalty” between different

111. D.H. 4.58.4; Fest., p. 56 (M). 112. E.g., Varro, L.L. 5.86; Cic. De Off. 1.23: fides, id est dictorum conventorumque constantia ac veritas. 113. E.g., Cic. De Off. 3.104. 114. Liv. 2.15.7, 8.21.7; Val. Max. 7.2.60; Tac. Ann. 11.24. 115. Liv. 4.10.3, 34.33.12; Vell. 1.12.6; Sall. Hist. 1.11; Sil.Ital. Pun. 1.5; Tac. Ann. 12.31.7.

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social and political groups in Rome. In a similar fashion, we encounter references to fides exercituum and fides praetorianum, and the use of fides as a display of provincial loyalty. But this understanding of fides had no relevance to the way in which the Romans treated those who had surrendered to their discretion (fides). A similar conclusion follows from the evidence about the temple of Fides, which was supposedly built by Atilius Calatinus (cos. 258, 254) in the vicinity of the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, which Pierre Boyancé dated to 254 or 250 and labeled the “new temple.” There are no grounds to connect the erection of this temple with the merciful treatment of the dediticii. In particular, no evidence exists that Greek cities in Sicily or elsewhere surrendered to the fides of Atilius Calatinus: he took the cities of Hippana, Myttistratum, Camarina, and Enna by force during his first consulship, and that of Panormus during his second, so that the people of Panormus either bought their life and freedom for money or were sold as slaves. The erection of the temple of Fides by Atilius Calatinus might as well, therefore, be interpreted in a different way, namely, as the desire of the Romans to present their policy as consistent and trustworthy, especially after they became more closely involved with various peoples of the western Mediterranean in the mid-third century. Roman international treaties, which were deposited on the Capitol, were usually engraved on bronze tablets (tabulae aenae) and put on public display, as was the case of Roman treaties with the Jews, Antiochos III (189),

116. E.g., RIC I 239; II 16, 21, 60–61; cf. libertas publica: RIC I 239, 251; II 221, 223–225; felicitas publica: e.g., RIC I 251; II 73, 78, etc. Clasping hands: e.g., RIC II 16, 21, 60 (the reign of Vespasian), 130 (the reign of Titus); for later times: e.g., Claudius Mamertinus, Speech of Thanks to Julian 28.4: dexteram dedit, illam dexteram, immortale pignus virtutis et fidei (Mynors). For the application of this idea in Greek antiquity: J. Taillardat, in RÉG 95 (1982): 2–4. 117. E.g., RIC I 213, 270; II 67, 276, 295; III 114, 143, 144, etc., and, e.g., RIC I 213, 270, respectively. 118. E.g., RIC I 214 (in connection with the Gallic revolt, a.d. 69–70). 119. Cic. De nat. deor. 2.61; cf. Cic. De Off. 3.104. This information was not discussed by Mommsen, “Archivio federale e tempio della Fides sul Campidoglio,” in Gesammelte Schriften (Berlin: Weidmann, 1907), 3:303–309: his only reference (306 n. 3) to Cicero’s passage concerned the “recent” (proxime) renovation of Numa’s cult of Fides (publica), whereas Calatinus dedicated his temple of Fides before that. 120. Boyancé, Études, 338; R. Mellor, ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ: The Worship of the Goddess Roma in the Greek World (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975), 131–132; A. Ziolkowski, The Temples of Mid-Republican Rome and Their Historical and Topographical Context (Rome: Bretschneider, 1992), 28–29; K.-L. Elvers, “Atilius Calatinus (Caiatinus?), A.,” NPauly 2 (1997): 211. 121. E.g., A. Valvo, “Istituti di pace in Roma repubblicana,” in La pace nel mondo antico, 170. 122. Polyb. 1.24.10–13, 1.38.5–10; Diod. 23.18.3–5. 123. E.g., App. Syr. 39; Jos. A.J. 12.416, 14.266; Jos. B.J. 2.216. Specific references to the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol: e.g., OGI 762 (= I.Kibyra 1).12–13 (Cibyra, 189–167 b.c.); Syll.3 694 (= IGR IV 1692 = LSAM 15 = Canali de Rossi, Le ambascerie, 256–258, no. 299).24–25 (from Elaea?, c.129 b.c.).

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Heraclea Pontica (188), and various other documents, such as a dedication from Elaea (?) in c.129 and a copy of the senatus consultum de Asclepiade in 78. The bronze tablets (tabulae aenae) that the strong wind tore away from “the temple of Fides” on the Capitol after the death of Caesar were most likely copies of Roman treaties. Irrespective of whether “the temple of Fides” was that of Calatinus, the temple of Fides that he built in the mid-third century should have been a reflection of the growing concern of the Romans for presenting their international policy to the outside world as always being selfless and disinterested, which started to manifest itself as Roman might was spreading beyond the borders of Italy: “[C]ertain leading Romans attempted to present a positive interpretation of Rome’s policies and particularly of Roman wars. The process began in the second quarter of the third century, at the latest.” The other major argument of those who, similar to André Piganiol, support the theory that Roman fides was originally associated with a commitment to the dediticii and then lost this meaning around the second century has been their reference to a coin from Locri Epizephyri. This coin, which supposedly reflects the surrender of the Locrians to Rome in 277 (and whose image serves as the frontispiece of this book), raises two questions at once. The first is about its date, which could have been either “Pyrrhic” or “Hannibalic,” using the expressions of Momigliano. As a result, some (like Calderone and Ferrary) put this coin in the very beginning of the third century, whereas others (including Mellor) dated it to the

124. Jos. A.J. 12.416–417; App. Syr. 39; FGrH 434 (Memnon), F.18.10 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 214–215, no. 257, with a summary of opinions by A. Bittner, Gesellschaft und Wirtschaft in Herakleia Pontike: Eine Polis zwischen Tyrannis und Selbstverwaltung (Bonn: Habelt, 1998), 96. 125. Syll.3 694 (= IGR IV 1692 = LSAM 15 = Canali de Rossi, Le ambascerie, 256–258, no. 299).24–25; Sherk, Documents, no. 22.25, and, in general, for this practice: Suet. Vesp. 8. 126. Jul. Obs. 68 (see n. 109 above). 127. Harris, War, 171. See also M. Gelzer, “Römische Politik bei Fabius Pictor,” in M. Gelzer, Kleine Schriften, vol. 3 (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1964), 51–92; Petzold, Eröffnung, 87–88; Mellor, ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ, 131. 128. Liv. 29.6.17, 29.7.3 (see n. 54 above). This coin: A Catalogue of the Greek Coins of the British Museum. Italy, ed. Reginald S. Poole (London: Woodfall and Kinder, 1873), 365, no. 15 = Barclay V. Head, Historia Numorum: A Manual of Greek Numismatics2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1911), 103–104 = SNG. Vol. III. The Lockett Collection, pt. 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1938), pl. 21, no. 644 = SNG. Vol. V. Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, pt. 2: Italy, Sicily, Carthage (London: Published for the British Academy by Oxford University Press, 1969), pl. 28, no. 1570 = SNG. The Collection of the American Numismatic Society, pt. 3, Bruttium—Sicily: I (New York: American Numismatic Society, 1975), pl. 16, no. 531 = Historia Numorum. Italy, ed. N. K. Rutter et al. (London: British Museum Press, 2001), 181 (with pl. 38), no. 2347 (dated to c.275 b.c.). 129. A. Momigliano, Secondo Contributo alla storia degli studi classici (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1960), 440 n. 28 (the period from 289 to the beginning of the First Punic war). This debate: E. J. Haeberlin, in Corolla Numismatica: Numismatic Essays in honor of B. V. Head (London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1906), 144–145; M. H. Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 2:724 (“the time of the Pyrrhic war”).

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very end of that century. The other question is whether the Pistis that is crowning Rome on this stater is that of the Locrians, that is, of the Greeks, or of the Romans themselves. Barclay V. Head described this image in the following way: “Locri, as ΠΙΣΤΙΣ, standing, placing a wreath upon the head of Roma, ΡΩΜΑ, who is seated before her.” Since that time, however, Pistis on this coin has been usually identified with Roman fides. The following observations can be proposed more or less securely. First, this coin was produced by the Greeks, thus reflecting their vision of the Romans’ policy toward a Greek city and casting doubts on the conclusions that this image was Roman propaganda and self-promotion. Second, the personification of Rome on Roman coins is not thought to have developed into the goddess Romê until later; there was hardly an established Roman concept of Romê even in the second century. Some have found it possible, therefore, to suggest that in each of a few cases of early Roman coins bearing the image of (supposedly) Rome, we are dealing with an artist’s own interpretation. While noting that on the coin from Locri “she can hardly be other than the personification of Rome, which later developed into the goddess Roma,” Michael Crawford at the same time agreed that “in Latin the word ‘Roma’ is not used to express this concept, but rather ‘res publica’ or ‘patria’” and concluded that “it perhaps follows that the artists who placed Roma on the coinage of the Roman Republic and labelled her with the legend ROMA were expressing a Roman concept in their own way.” Because the official concept of ROMA did not exist at that time, the Greeks had even more latitude for their own interpretation. A similar explanation should be offered for the coin minted by the Greeks in Locri: irrespective of the datings suggested for this coin, studies on the goddess Romê have agreed that the image of Rome on this Locrian coin was a product of Greek

130. S. Calderone, “La conquista romana della Magna Grecia,” in La Magna Grecia nell’ età romana (Naples: Arte tipografica, 1976), 79; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 75; Mellor, ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ, 19, 132, 163. 131. Head, Historia Numorum2, 104, with M. Caccamo Caltabiano, “Nota sulla moneta locrese Zeus/Roma e Pistis,” in Studi in onore di A. Ardizzoni (Rome: Ateneo & Bizzarri, 1978), 103, 112 nn. 17–18. 132. E.g., Boyancé, Études, 100, 108; Heurgon, Rome, 142; Calderone, “Conquista,” 79; Mellor, ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ, 109, 163; C. Fayer, Il culto della dea Roma: Origine e diffusione nell’Impero (Pescara: Trimestre, 1976), 10 n. 1; Brizzi, I sistemi, 16–17; D. Nörr, Aspekte des römischen Völkerrechts: Die Bronzetafel von Alcántara (Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1989), 111; D. Nörr, Die Fides im römischen Völkerrecht (Heidelberg: Müller, 1991), 42; Freyburger, Étude, 246 (with Pl. XVIII); K.-J. Hölkeskamp, “Fides—deditio in fidem—dextra data et accepta: Recht, Religion und Ritual in Rom,” in K.-J. Hölkeskamp, Senatus populusque romanus. Die politische Kultur der Republik: Dimensionen und Deutungen (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 2004), 119; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 75. 133. E.g., Petzold, Eröffnung, 96 n. 35; U. Knoche, in Prinzipat und Freiheit, ed. R. Klein (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969), 488–516. 134. Crawford, Coinage, 2:725.

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interpretation. The same conclusion follows from the fact that while Roman coins from the early third century could have been intended for a Greek audience as well, these coins bore inscriptions in Latin. Once again, this shows that the Locrian coin offers an example of the Greek vision of the Greco-Roman relationship in the third century. If “Rome” on this coin was a product of Greek interpretation, then we can conclude that it is the same for “Pistis” as well. Finally, the fact that we have only a few such coins (and those made by the Greeks) also suggests that this sort of evidence cannot be used as proof that the Romans understood fides as designating humane treatment of the dediticii in the third century. The image on the coin from Locri and the information from the above-mentioned excerpt of Agathocles could have reflected attempts by some Greeks in the third century to rationalize Roman politics within the traditional Greek system of values, which again demonstrates that Roman fides was not the same as Greek pistis. Hence the scarcity of such evidence: the Romans were not interested in this idea, at least not before the early second century. A similar case seems to have been the veneration of the goddess Romê, which began as a Greek invention with obvious political objectives and only became incorporated in the Roman policy toward the Greeks at a much later date. The Greeks could have interpreted acts of Roman benevolence as resulting from Roman pistis, as seems to be the case of Locri. However, this was just a matter of Greek interpretation, which says nothing about either the Roman vision of the situation or the nature of Roman fides in the third century. Polybios offers no evidence about Roman obligations to Corcyra, Apollonia, or Issa, not to mention Roman treaties with them. The only numismatic reference to this special rôle fides played in Rome’s relations with other nations in the third century remains, after all, a local coin from Locri, a Greek community. It is also interesting to note that the earliest evidence we have about the Romans’ magnanimous treatment of the dediticii, that is, what Piganiol adduced in support of his “l’interpretation généreuse,” concerns only Greek communities. This fact gives credit to the other opinion, namely, that the Roman use of fides in

135. E.g., Mellor, ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ, 14, 109 (“I would interpret this Locrian coin as the earliest expression of the Greek phenomenon of the deification of Roma”), 111; Fayer, Roma, 9–11. 136. A. Alföldi, “The Main Aspects of Political Propaganda on the Coinage of the Roman Republic,” in Essays in Roman Coinage Presented to H. Mattingly, ed. R. A. G. Carson and C. H. V. Sutherland (London: Oxford University Press, 1956), 67. 137. Tac. Ann. 4.56; Mellor, ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ, 5–26, 81–82, 181–206; S. Mitchell, Anatolia: Land, Men, and Gods in Asia Minor (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 1:102–103. 138. Polyb. 2.11.5–12 (see n. 105 above).

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this way developed under the influence of the Greeks, in the course of the growing interaction between Rome and the Greek world. This, certainly, does not mean that the Romans treated all Greek communities in the same way or that each instance of Roman benevolent treatment of a Greek community necessarily reflected the Roman adoption of Greek political principles. The earliest discernible instance of the Romans’ use of such Greek diplomatic practices seems to emerge in the early second century when, at the Roman-Aetolian conference at Tempe in 197, Flamininus agreed to hand over Phthiotic Thebes to the Aetolians after this city had rejected submitting itself to Roman fides, causing the Romans to take it by force. He refused, however, to turn over Larisa Cremastê, Echinus, and Pharsalus to the Aetolians, because these cities had surrendered themselves to Roman fides. The argument over the fate of the Thessalian cities concerned two important and mutually connected problems, which are still being debated today, namely, whether the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 211 was void in 197 for the reason that, as claimed by the Romans as well as some modern authors, the Aetolians had made a separate peace with Philip in 206, and whether Flamininus had any legal grounds in 197 to deny these Thessalian cities to the Aetolians. As for the first, Livy stresses that the treaty of 211 contained a special clause that stipulated that even if either the Romans or the Aetolians made a separate peace with Philip, this peace should protect the other people and its allies as well as those subject to them. Livy’s information has generally been accepted as true. Heuss and Balsdon went even further, speaking of a specific clause in the treaty that prohibited a separate peace. However, first, the only evidence that we have for the treaty of 211—references by Polybios and Livy (mostly with respect to the debate at Tempe in 197), along with

139. E. Fraenkel, “Zur Geschichte des Wortes fides,” RhM 71 (1916): 191; Imbert, “Fides,” 343; Beseler, “Fides,” 166; M. Lemosse, in Studi in onore di P. de Francisci (Milan: Giuffrè, 1956), 46–52; Calderone, ΠΙΣΤΙΣ, 57. Cf. Lomas, Rome and the Western Greeks, 81: the Roman treatment of Locri was “more in line with that of a Hellenistic city than an Italian one.” 140. Resistance: Liv. 33.5.1–3; given to the Aetolians: Polyb. 18.38.4–5, 9; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 101 n. 128. 141. Polyb. 18.38.3–5 (ἐθελοντὴν σφᾶς εἰς τὴν Ῥωμαίων πίστιν ἐνεχείρισαν); Liv. 33.13.12. 142. For this dating, see p. 146, nn. 6–8. 143. As Mommsen, Geschichte9, 1:627–628; Muylle, “Traité,” 416; Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 78–79; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 441; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 134. 144. Liv. 26.24.12–13. E.g., Holleaux, Études, 5:28; Holleaux, Rome, 256–257; Hopital, “Traité,” 232; N. G. L. Hammond, in JRS 58 (1968): 18–19; Habicht, Athens, 198: on Rome “deserted by its Aetolian allies”; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 98. 145. Heuss, “Ostpolitik,” 341; Balsdon, “Rome and Macedon,” 32. See also M. R. Cimma, Reges socii et amici populi Romani (Milan: Giuffrè, 1976), 56 n. 73, and Errington, Hellenistic World, 189 (“Despite their treaty with Rome, they agreed to end hostilities [with Philip]”).

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a fragmented inscription, which is thought to contain the text of this treaty— does not support either of these views. Second, it appears to have been possible for the Greek states to conclude military agreements that included clauses prohibiting any of the involved parties to make peace separately from the rest. Each such case might have reflected a very special situation; still this idea was not anything new either in theory or in practice. However, it is also true that when the Romans accused the Aetolians of having made a treaty with Philip, they put the emphasis on the Aetolians acting without the Roman authorization, rather than on the break of the Roman-Aetolian treaty. It is still uncertain, however, whether her treaty with the Aetolians gave Rome the right to grant such permission to the Aetolians. What might look like a similar situation, which took place a little later, concerns the people of Chalcis who refused to conclude an alliance with Antiochos III and the Aetolians “except when authorized by the Romans.” However, the status of the people of Chalcis, who had received “freedom and peace” from the Romans, was different from that of the Aetolians in 211. Additionally, we do not know if Chalcis had a treaty with Rome. It could well be that the insistence of the Romans that the Aetolians should have sought the Roman authorization for making a separate peace with Philip reflected the Roman point of view rather than the actual content of the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 211. Finally, the Aetolians referred to their treaty with Rome as justification of their claim to the Thessalian cities, as we see in both Polybios and Livy. The latter, in particular, says that in 195, the Aetolians were ready to abandon their alliance with Rome (Aetolorum alienati ab societate Romana animi sunt) because they were prevented from recovering Thessalian cities “in accordance with the original treaty” (ex primo foedere). This evidence prompted Gustav A. Lehmann to deny that the Roman-Aetolian treaty could have had such a clause. If the treaty of 211 did not have this clause, then this treaty was still valid after 206. The fact that the Aetolians were not mentioned among the Roman adscripti

146. See SEG 13, 382 = IG IX.12, 241 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 536 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 10–12, no. 11 (211 b.c.), with, e.g., Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 88. 147. E.g., Thuc. 5.38.1–2 on the plan to establish such an agreement (between the Boeotians, the Corinthians, the Megarians, and the Thracians), which never materialized, and Staatsverträge 3, no. 552.21– 24 (a treaty of alliance between Rhodes and Olus, c.201–200 b.c.) with Giovannini, Relations, 242–243. Pace, e.g., Hopital, “Traité,” 234 n. 2, who thought that Greek diplomatic practice did not know the clause determining the conditions of a separate peace. 148. Liv. 31.29.4 (sine auctoritate). 149. Liv. 35.46.11–13 (nisi ex auctoritate); see p. 370, n. 91. 150. Polyb. 18.47.8 (κατὰ τὰς ἐξ ἀρχῆς συνθήκας); Liv. 33.13.10 (ita in foedere prima cautum est) and 33.49.8. 151. Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 105–106.

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in the treaty of Phoenice cannot argue by itself that the Roman-Aetolian treaty had been broken, as Walter D. Baronowski proposed: first, the Roman-Aetolian treaty was the treaty of equals, whereas the adscripti were seen as occupying an inferior position to that of the signatories; and, second, by that time the Aetolians had already established their own treaty with Philip. The appeal of the Aetolians to this treaty in 197 also suggests that at least some, beginning with the Aetolians, believed the treaty of 211 was valid. It is possible that, according to Appian, in 202–201, the Aetolians “repented” of their treaty with Philip and “asked to be inscribed again as Roman allies.” But this appeal could only have reflected a Roman decision to consider the treaty of 211 void and the desire of the Aetolians to make Rome change her mind, which does not necessarily mean that the Aetolians themselves thought the treaty was void after 206. We do not know how the Romans reacted to this appeal. Nor do we know the exact basis of Aetolian-Roman relations at the very end of the third century. We do know, however, that the Aetolians were struggling at that time to cope with Philip’s attacks and that, according to Pausanais, the senate dispatched an army to protect them as well as the Athenians. The Aetolians also actively participated in the Second Macedonian war on the Roman side, and at Roman bidding, which the Aetolians most likely did in the name of the treaty of 211. In a casual reference, Livy shows that (at least some of) the Romans thought that they had “friendship” (societas et amicitia) with the Aetolians still in 191. The whole issue of whether this treaty remained valid after 206 thus depends on the attitude of each side and becomes clouded by later, politically motivated, interpretations.

152. Baronowski, “Treaties,” 172. The appeal of 197: e.g., H. Horn, “Foederati” (diss., Frankfurt am Main: Voigt & Gleiber, 1930), 26–27; Heuss, “Amicitia,” 42–44. 153. App. Mac. 4.2. This date: G. T. Griffith, “An Early Motive of Roman Imperialism (201 b.c.),” Cambridge Historical Journal 5 (1935): 5; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 103, 106–109 (202 b.c.); Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 59 (201 b.c.); Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 213–216 (summer 202 b.c.). 154. Paus. 7.7.6–8. See Liv. 31.29.5, 31.31.20 (while Livy makes it clear that the Romans wanted the Aetolians as Roman allies in 200, he still implies that the treaty of 211 was void by that time); but cf. Liv. 33.49.8. See Horn, “Foederati,” 26; Griffith, “Imperialism,” 4; Petzold, Eröffnung, 57–66; T. A. Dorey, in Class. Review, n.s., 10 (1960): 9; Derow, “Polybius,” 11–12. 155. Liv. 36.3.8. The response of the fetials was that “friendship seemed to have already been broken off ” (amicitiam renuntiatam videri), because the Aetolians had seized Demetrias and invited Antiochos to Europe: Liv. 36.3.9–12. However, both these events took place in 192, implying that the Romans acknowledged their friendship with the Aetolians prior to that time. Whether this was the same relationship they established in 211 we do not know. A tangible problem is if this friendship was accompanied by a treaty: in the 190s, the Romans could consider their treaty of 211 with the Aetolians to have been broken, but they could still hold the Aetolians as “friends without a treaty.”

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As for the second major problem in this debate, that is, whether Flamininus had legal grounds to deny these Thessalian cities to the Aetolians, it has been modified into “on which clause in the treaty [of 211] Flamininus could have leaned in his handling of the three Thessalian cities” in 197. Differences in Polybios’s and Livy’s accounts of this event have always been acknowledged. However, after Günther Klaffenbach first published an inscription from Thyrrheum that purports to be the text of the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 211, their accounts of the debate at Tempe in 197 have generally been opposed to the text of the inscription by anyone who attempted to offer a reasonable explanation of this debate and the content of the Roman-Aetolian treaty, both by those who thought of Polybios as the source for Livy’s account, and by those who, like J. Muylle, traced Livy’s and Polybios’s accounts of this treaty to different sources, but still put them together as “la tradition littéraire.” This inscription says that the Romans indeed had to surrender all the cities that they would capture by force to the Aetolians. The implication should be that the Romans had the right to retain control of those cities that had surrendered to them voluntarily; this could have been implied further on in the text of the inscription. Some have already noted, however, that the inscription from Thyrrheum makes no mention of fides (pistis). What is even more interesting is that this inscription does make reference to the status of those people who surrendered of their own will. If we agree with the common opinion that this inscription reproduces the text of the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 211, then this treaty appears to be the first such case in Roman diplomacy: earlier Roman treaties did not differentiate between those who were subdued by force or who surrendered of their own will, as one can see, for example, in the second treaty between Rome and Carthage. The reason was simple: deditio in fidem neither offered any guarantees to the dediticii nor established their status, because from the Roman point of view there was no

156. Cf. Stiehl, “Vertrag,” 163. 157. Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag. This inscription: nn. 146 above and 160 below. 158. Holleaux, Études, 5:363; Hopital, “Traité,” 205–206, 240–244; McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 154–156; I. Calabi, in RFIC, n.s., 84 (1956): 395–397; Derow, “Polybius,” 11–12; Baronowski, “Treaties,” 176. 159. Muylle, “Traité,” 412, 415. 160. SEG 13, 382 (= IG IX.12, 241 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 536 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 10–12, no. 11).4–8 and 9–10 (211 b.c.), respectively. 161. E.g., Hopital, “Traité,” 205–206; Muylle, “Traité,” 427. 162. SEG 13, 382 (= IG IX.12, 241 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 536 = Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 10–12, no. 11).15–23. See Muylle, “Traité,” 427. 163. Polyb. 3.24.5= Staatsverträge 2, no. 326 (348 b.c.?).

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difference in the status of those who surrendered “willingly” or came to be captured by force. As a result, both those who had been defeated by Rome and those who had surrendered themselves to Roman trust found themselves subject to total Roman discretion. This situation supposedly changed as the Romans made the treaty with the Aetolians in 211, if we rely on this inscription. What, then, was the point of the Aetolians, who still claimed such cities for themselves in 197, referring to the treaty of 211? There can hardly be any doubt that they still intended this same treaty to be the basis of their settlement with Rome in 192, when the Aetolians invited Antiochos to arbitrate between themselves and the Romans. Finally, in 197, what was the point of Flamininus, who had rejected the Aetolians’ claims by denying that the treaty of 211 was still valid and, at the same time, insisted that the Roman obligation was to protect those who had surrendered to Roman fides? If the latter right of the Romans had been guaranteed by their treaty with the Aetolians, why did Flamininus (and Livy) so desperately try to present this treaty as void after 206? Further problems remain: the inscription from Thyrrheum appears to be a Greek translation of a Latin text; and whereas Livy says that the Aetolians set up their copy of the treaty at Olympia, the only inscription that we have comes from Thyrrheum (modern Hagios Vasilios) in Acarnania. These problems, which were noted as soon as the inscription was discovered, still wait to be addressed. For example, only Lehmann has offered a consistent attempt to solve the puzzle of the location of this inscription, proposing that it was transported to Acarnania as a spoil of war. But there is not enough evidence to support this theory either. Meanwhile, we should not rule out the possibility that the inscription from Thyrrheum belongs to a later period and results from a subsequent Roman reinterpretation of the treaty of 211: “[I]nscriptions can be re-engraved, and monuments can even be first set up, at a much later date.”

164. Badian, review of Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 640–641; so also Kallet-Marx, Hegemony, 45–46. Cf. Heuss, Grundlagen, 67–69, 80, and C. Becker, “Fides,” in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum 7 (1969): 812, on the difference between forced and voluntary surrender. 165. Cf. Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 17, who accepted the claims of the Aetolians to have been correct. 166. Liv. 35.33.4–8. 167. E.g., McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 154; Badian, review of Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 639; Muylle, “Traité,” 427; Baronowski, “Treaties,” 178; Dreyer, “Die Thrasycrates-Rede,” 35 n. 15. 168. Liv. 26.24.14; cf. Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 22–26, on Thyrrheum and the Aetolians. 169. Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 19–23; McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 154; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 17–18, 377–378; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 10. 170. Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 131–134; see Dreyer, “Die Thrasycrates-Rede,” 37. 171. E. Badian, in JRS 58 (1968): 243.

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What is clear is that the discovery of this inscription has not helped to bring about a better understanding of the nature of the Roman-Aetolian treaty and its relevance to the debate at Tempe. It appears, therefore, that the main problem that needs to be addressed is not the difference between “literary evidence” and the text of the inscription, but the difference between the texts of Polybios and Livy as to what right the Romans had to retain the three Thessalian cities. According to Polybios, in the eyes of the Greeks (including the Aetolians), the Romans had the right to retain those cities that had surrendered to them because they now had a moral obligation to them; this is what Flamininus made clear in his response to the Aetolians. As we can see from Livy’s text, the Roman “annalistic tradition” put a different emphasis on the whole story: for the Romans in 211, the right to those who surrendered to them was based on the principle of deditio in fidem, which certainly implied no moral obligations, and Livy says nothing about such obligations. He mentions the right of the Romans to retain those cities that had surrendered to Rome as something self-evident, and he bases his argument on rejecting the Aetolian claim to Phthiotic Thebes by emphasizing that the Roman-Aetolian treaty became void after the Aetolians made a separate peace with Philip in 206. But from the traditional Roman point of view, Phthiotic Thebes was in the same position as other Thessalian cities that had surrendered to the Romans because, as we have seen earlier, the Romans did not distinguish between the status of those who had surrendered willingly or were captured by force. Therefore, if Flamininus offered to surrender Phthiotic Thebes to the Aetolians but, at the same time, wished to retain other Thessalian cities under Roman control, he could hardly rationalize this step in Roman terms. Nor could he justify it with reference to the Roman-Aetolian treaty because he claimed that this treaty was not valid after 206. The problem of the discrepancy between Polybios’s and Livy’s interpretations has received two anticipated solutions: some (including Klaffenbach) put the responsibility for it on Polybios’s shoulders, whereas others (such as Stiehl, Hopital, and Muylle) found error with Livy. However, each of these solutions still tried to explain Flamininus’s rationale in 197 by using the treaty of 211 as its basis; hence, attempts to solve “inconsistencies” between the evidence that we have about the provisions of the treaty and about

172. This conclusion: Hopital, “Traité,” 204, 215; Stiehl, “Vertrag,” 160. 173. See also McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 153–157; K. S. Sacks, in JHS 95 (1975): 104. 174. Liv. 33.13.7, 8, 12. 175. E.g., Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 14–19 (summed up by Stiehl, “Vertrag,” 159); Stiehl, “Vertrag,” 162–170; Hopital, “Traité,” 205–206, 240, 241 n. 33; Muylle, “Traité,” 412.

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the negotiations at Tempe, respectively. But, first, we do not know if the treaty was still valid in 197; the Romans and the Aetolians most likely held different opinions on this matter (at least judging by what can be gathered from the surviving evidence), so that this question cannot have a definitive answer. Second, and most important, the only evidence of Flamininus’s appeal to Greek diplomatic practice (such as giving protection to those who willingly surrendered themselves) comes from Polybios’s account of the Tempe negotiations in 197, whereas the contents of the Roman-Aetolian treaty have been discussed based on Livy’s direct reference to this treaty as part of his narration of events in 212 and 211. It follows, then, that attempts to restore the content of the treaty of 211 on the basis of Polybios’s information about 197 have failed not because of inconsistencies in our sources but because Flamininus’s stance in 197 had no relevance to the treaty of 211. Claiming that the treaty of 211 was void allowed Flamininus to rationalize his actions in terms that were familiar to the Greeks: it was Greek diplomatic practice that the victor retained control over cities that had voluntarily surrendered to him. For example, we read that the Spartans did not want to take Plataea by storm in 427 because “if ever a treaty of peace should be made with the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians should consent that all the places each had taken in war should be given back, Plataea might not have to be given up, on the ground that its inhabitants had gone over to Sparta voluntarily”; and that when the Athenians demanded to be given Plataea back in 421, “the Thebans protested that they had obtained possession of the place, not by force, but because the Plataeans had come over to them by agreement and not through betrayal; and the Athenians claimed to have obtained Nisaea in the same way.” Flamininus, therefore, first had to insist that the treaty of 211 was void, and then he could declare that the Romans did not have to return those cities that had surrendered to them voluntarily or, in other words, had put themselves in Roman trust. The latter claim meant acknowledging that those who had surrendered of their own free will occupied a status different from those who had been captured by force. According to Polybios, responding to the Aetolian claims, Flamininus distinguished between the provisions of the Roman-Aetolian treaty, on the one hand, and the fate of the Thessalian cities, on the other, as if between two different topics: “[T]he alliance had been dissolved . . . and even if it still subsisted (εἴ τε καὶ μένειν ἔτι τὴν συμμαχίαν),

176. E.g., McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 156–157; Lehmann, “Elateia,” 76 n. 22, 78. 177. Polyb. 18.38.4–9; Liv. 26.24.4–14. 178. Thuc. 3.52.2, 5.17.2.

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they should receive back and occupy not the towns which had surrendered to the Romans of their own free will (τινες ἐθελουτὴν σφᾶς εἰς τὴν Ῥωμαίων πίστιν ἐνεχείρισαν), but any that had fallen by force of arms.” These words show that the treaty did not contain such a clause, and that the Aetolians were right when they claimed these cities on the basis of the treaty. Thus the change in the Roman approach did not happen in 211 but during the negotiations at Tempe in 197. After all, the Aetolians would still claim those Thessalian cities that had surrendered to Rome for themselves, by referring to the treaty of 211 (if this treaty was then valid, is another matter), and Livy’s account of this treaty reserves no special place to the dediticii (i.e., quite in line with the traditional Roman diplomatic practice). Using the Greek political practice in 197 allowed Flamininus to safeguard the right of the Romans to the three Thessalian cities, which they could not hold in other ways. An important follow-up to the argument over the fate of the Thessalian cities between Flamininus and the Aetolians at Tempe in 197 is the previously mentioned confusion concerning negotiations on the Aetolian surrender in the late 190s, which received very different treatment from Polybios and from Livy. As we have seen above, the difference in their accounts on these negotiations has given rise to much speculation about the nature of Roman fides and its relation to Greek pistis. Why did the Aetolians expect merciful treatment in return for their surrender to Roman fides? Polybios is the only author who claimed that the Aetolians had misunderstood the meaning of Roman fides. Why did they misunderstand it? Polybios can also provide us with the answer: he informs us that only six years earlier, during the debate over the Thessalian cities at Tempe, Flamininus insisted in front of the Aetolians that the Romans had the right to protect those cities that had surrendered to Roman fides (or pistis, in the words of Polybios) because this constituted a moral obligation on the part of the Romans. From Polybios’s text, it follows, therefore, that Flamininus himself appears to be the person who supplied the Aetolians with the idea that Roman fides was similar in

179. Polyb. 18.38.7–9. 180. Cf. Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 15–16 (“the assertion of Flamininus that in accordance with the provisions of the treaty of 212, the Aetolians had claim to only captured cities but not to those which willingly subjected themselves to the Romans”), who used this interpretation to allege a discrepancy between Flamininus’s words and the treaty of 211 and to explain this discrepancy by invalidating Polybios’s information. 181. As already Muylle, “Traité,” 427. 182. Polyb. 20.9.11; Liv. 36.27.8 (for both, see nn. 64–65 above). 183. Polyb. 18.38.4–9.

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nature to Greek pistis. In doing so, however, Flamininus misinterpreted the essence of Roman fides, so that the Aetolians had to be given a special explanation in 191 about what Roman fides actually meant. As a result, the debate in 197 contributed to the confusion in 191. This analysis of the debate at Tempe leads to yet another observation: it is quite possible that, just as he borrowed the Greek idea of a moral responsibility toward those who willingly surrendered to one’s trust, Flamininus could have borrowed the Greek slogan of freedom as well, whose use he would then suggest to the senate (maybe even together with the idea of making a general proclamation of freedom, which was familiar to the Greeks). This explanation would not be surprising, especially since Flamininus, who was conducting negotiations at Tempe both with the Aetolians and with the envoys of Philip, was likely assisted by proRoman politicians from among the Greeks. As we have already seen, however, Flamininus did not refer to freedom in his negotiations with Philip at Tempe: Flamininus was using the same terminology as the Romans had employed in their ultimatum to Philip in 200; and the earliest documented use of the Greek slogan of freedom by the Romans remains the senatus consultum from late 197. Therefore, although Flamininus could have been the first Roman to propose using the Greek slogan of freedom, right after the battle at Cynoscephalae (just as he appears to have been the first Roman to acknowledge the special status of, and treatment for, those who surrendered voluntarily, thus bringing the meaning of Roman fides closer to that of Greek pistis), there does not seem to be enough evidence to substantiate this suggestion. Finally, modern discussions of the nature of Roman fides as providing guarantees to the dediticii have also referred to the two cases when the maltreatment and sale of those who had surrendered to Roman fides caused a negative reaction on the part of the senators. Both cases come from the second century and deal with non-Greeks. In the first, the Ligurians, after surrendering to Roman fides in 173, were sold, together with their property, by M. Popilius Laenas. Livy describes the senate’s reaction in the following way: “[T]he actions seemed outrageous to the senate (atrox rex visa senatui), that the Statellates, who alone of the Ligurians had not made war on the Romans, who even on this occasion had been attacked although they had not begun a war, who had entrusted themselves to the Roman

184. So, very correctly, A. M. Eckstein, “Glabrio and the Aetolians: A Note on Deditio,” TAPA 125 (1995): 281. Cf. Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 204: the episode with the Thessalian cities taught the Aetolians about “a (definitely much more humane) type of Roman deditio.” 185. Polyb. 18.37.4, 10, 12; see p. 176, nn. 73–74. 186. Liv. 42.8.5–6.

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people (deditos in fidem populi Romani), should have been harassed and destroyed with every form of extreme cruelty” and “a fate which established the worst possible precedent and issued a warning that no one should ever dare in the future to surrender (ne quis umquam se postea dedere auderet).” The concern of the senators was for the Statellates, who had not been engaged in any anti-Roman activity and on whose territory the battle merely happened to take place. The senators did not decry the break of fides, since the Romans had obviously made no pledges to the Ligurians when the latter surrendered to Popilius, but the harsh treatment of the defenseless people, which, as the senators feared, could deter other peoples from surrendering to the Romans in the future. The second case concerns the Lusitanians who, after surrendering to Roman fides, were either killed or sold as slaves by S. Sulpicius Galba, whose actions were then criticized before the senate in 149. Appian, referring to the same event, says that while the Lusitanians were being slain, they “invoked the names of the gods and the pledges (pisteis) that they had received.” Opinions of the senators conflicted, however, and eventually Galba—who was being accused not of breaking fides but of harsh treatment of defenseless people—won the case. Appian’s reference to pisteis should have reflected a misunderstanding of Roman fides by the Lusitanians, thus revealing a situation similar to those of Nabis and the Aetolians several decades earlier. Such evidence has served to suggest that a break of fides was to be punished, which in turn implies that surrendering to fides carried obligations to the dediticii with it. However, we see no break of Roman fides in these cases: once again, they show that those who surrendered to Roman fides always put themselves at the mercy of the Romans. Hence no legal punishment existed for those who had mistreated the dediticii. The senators were only discussing the civility and human compassion of certain individuals. Besides being a reflection of political infighting, the criticism of such actions by the senators was aimed at maintaining a positive image of Rome. Summing up, no indication exists that Roman fides was originally associated with a commitment to the dediticii and then lost this meaning. The surviving evidence shows that Roman fides could only be interpreted as offering protection to the dediticii from the second century. Does this mean that the last of the four interpretations of the meaning of fides mentioned earlier is correct—namely, that Roman fides gradually started to imply a commitment to the dediticii and that this

187. Liv. 42.7.3 with Eckstein, Mediterranean Anarchy, 227–228, who discussed this episode among “similar accusations of unjustified warfare.” 188. Liv. per. 48–49; App. Iber. 60; Val. Max. 8.1.2; Cic. De orat. 1.227; Suet. Galba 3. 189. E.g., Nörr, Aspekte, 132–134.

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process developed under Greek influence? How, then, would we explain the mistreatment of the Ligurians and Lusitanians, who had surrendered themselves to the Romans later in the second century? The Capuans in 343, the Aetolians in 191, the people of Heraclea by Latmus in 189, the Gauls in 183, the Ligurians in 173, the Carthaginains in 147, and the Numantines in 133—all were required to do exactly the same: to surrender themselves, their arms, and their property to the Roman people. Both at the very beginning of Roman history and later, the act of deditio in fidem alone never established the status of the dediticii, which was determined only after the surrender took place, and this status could vary, depending on the situation. In practical terms, surrendering to Roman fides meant completely entrusting oneself to the mercy of the Romans, which constituted the essence of deditio in fidem. Once the surrender took place, the Romans could turn the dediticii into slaves, as happened to the people of Panormus who were given an opportunity to buy their freedom in 254, the Samians in 189, the Ligurians in 173, the Lusitanians in 149. It is not surprising, therefore, that after surrendering themselves and all Aetolians to the Romans in 191, the Aetolian ambassadors could have been treated as slaves, that is, in chains and with iron collars on their necks. Other options included giving the deditici the status of Roman “friends and allies” (which still did not establish any Roman obligations to such people) or giving them a treaty. Therefore, having finally surrendered to Roman trust in 338, the

190. E.g., Liv. 1.38.1–2: the surrender of Collatia (see n. 6 above). Further evidence: Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 1–6. 191. Esp. Imbert, “Fides,” 347; McDonald, review of Klaffenbach, Bündnisvertrag, 155; E. Badian, “Deditio,” in NPauly 3 (1997): 361: “The outcomes of deditio extended from (rare) extermination and enslavement to (usual, but accompanied by obligations in wartime) restoration of freedom and possessions and the reconstitution of communal organization, which could be followed by a treaty.” 192. Heuss, Grundlagen, 63: “deditio was not associated with any guarantee,” 112; J. Heurgon, Rechereches sur l’histoire, la religion et la civilisation de Capoue préromaine (Paris: De Boccard, 1942), 168; Imbert, “Fides,” 355, 363; Badian, Clientelae, 6; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 7–14; Linderski, “Cato,” 390, 407; Hölkeskamp, “Fides,” 119. 193. Welles, “Liberty,” 29; Badian, Clientelae, 4–7, 84; Badian, “Hegemony,” 411–412; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 41; W. Flurl, “Deditio in fidem: Untersuchungen zu Livius und Polybios” (diss., Munich, 1969), 1–2; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 72–81, 213–214. Cf. Heuss, Grundlagen, 69–73, 80–83; Lombardi, “Bona fides,” 47–50. 194. Diod. 23.18.4–5; Liv. 38.29.11 and 42.8.1–6; Cic. Brut. 89 with Liv. per. 49 and Val. Max. 8.1.2, 9.6.2; Th. Mommsen, “Die römische Clientel,” in Th. Mommsen, Römische Forschungen (Berlin: Weidmann, 1864), 1:363. A collection of such evidence: Flurl, “Deditio in fidem,” 58–79. The Aetolians: Polyb. 20.10.7–8. 195. Polyb. 2.11.5–6: Corcyra in 229 b.c.; cf. Polyb. 18.38.4 (on Phthiotic Thebes); Liv. 33.13.8. See Heuss, Grundlagen, 78–83; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 23–24, 29 n. 2. Pace Nörr, Fides, 8. 196. E.g., Capua in Flor. 1.11; Lucania in Liv. 10.11.13–10.12.1; Naples in Liv. 23.15.2 with Polyb. 6.14.8 and Cic. Balb. 21; the Campanians in Liv. 23.5.9. See, in general, Cic. De Off. 3.111.

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Campanians and the Latins received different treatment—some obtained Roman civitas and treaties; others retained their old rights, whereas the rest were deprived of them. In similar circumstances, the Gauls were ordered to leave Italy but were allowed to retain the movable property by the senate’s special grace; the Carthaginians received their freedom and possessions back but were ordered to give hostages, whereas the Aetolians and the Numantines rejected the Roman offer entirely. The Romans could turn the dediticii into Roman allies for political reasons. After surrendering themselves to Roman fides (εἰς τὴν τῶν Ῥωμαίων πίστιν, in the words of Polybios), the people of Saguntum posed as Roman “allies” in the treaty between Rome and Hannibal. A little later, Edeco, the prince of the Edetani, “surrendered not only his own person but his friends and relatives” to Roman fides. Edeco also expected to be treated as a “friend and ally” and promised to offer important services to the Romans in return. Polybios continued by saying that Scipio returned Edeco’s wife and children and made a (personal) friendship with him. Edeco’s case once again shows that the Roman deditio in fidem meant, first and foremost, the surrender of personal freedom and property. The former concerned the status of both peoples and individuals: after submitting to the Romans, the Illyrian king Gentius was sent to Rome together with his family; after the Aetolians agreed to surrender themselves to Roman fides, Glabrio demanded that they give up Dicaearchos and Menestratos of Epirus as well as the king Amynander and all the Athamanians; after Perseus had been persuaded to surrender himself to Roman fides, he was led in Paullus’s triumph. As to the latter, in some cases the dediticii were ordered to leave their territory, while retaining their movable property, as was the case of the Gauls in 183 and of the Carthaginians in 149.

197. Staatsverträge 2, no. 347 = Liv. 8.14.2–12. 198. The Gauls: Liv. 39.54.7–13. The Carthaginians: Polyb. 36.3.4–9, 36.4.1–3. The Numantines: App. Iber. 95. 199. Saguntum: Polyb. 3.29.10–3.30.3. Edeco: Polyb. 10.34.6–7, 10.35.1. 200. App. Lyb. 64: the Carthaginians (201 b.c.); Liv. 32.17.1–2: Carystus (198 b.c.), 40.49.4: the Celtibereans (179 b.c.), 42.21.5: the Ligurians (172 b.c.). 201. See also D.H. 2.35.4 (Romulus pledged to the Sabine women that he would take neither freedom nor property from their fellow citizens, nor anything else good that they enjoyed); Liv. 1.38.1–2 (Collatia), 7.31.4 (the Capuans in 343 b.c.), 34.57.7 (the speech of Antiochos’s envoys in 193); Caes. B.G. 2.3 (the Remi, a Belgian tribe). 202. Liv. per. 44; Polyb. 20.10.5; Vell. 1.9.5; Lombardi, “Bona fides,” 49–50; pace Nörr, Fides, 21: “the Minimal-Norm of deditio” as concerning life and freedom. 203. Liv. 39.54.7–13; Liv. per. 49.

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Rome, of course, protected the security of her “friends” and “allies”: that of Saguntum was detailed in the treaty with Carthage, while that of Nabis was spelled out in the Roman treaty with Philip. This protection was not the final aim, however. The Romans used fides (socialis) to maintain the political balance with a third party and as a way of securing a casus belli, in case the third party decided to break this balance. While fides (socialis) could thus be used by the Romans against a third party, it neither offered protection from Rome herself to those that were in her fides nor (in the absence of a treaty) did it oblige Rome to protect them. Surrendering to Roman fides still meant only surrendering to Roman discretion, which certainly allowed the Romans to become engaged in military conflicts on behalf of those who had put their trust in Rome. Therefore, in the field of international politics, Roman fides (socialis) played the same rôle as the Greek slogan of freedom. This slogan certainly had a much broader application than Roman fides because the latter concerned only individual communities, and then only those that had pledged their loyalty to Rome. In practical terms, however, neither a Greek declaration of freedom nor surrendering to Roman fides by itself guaranteed the “freedom” and other rights of individual communities. These similarities should have made it easier for the Romans to adopt the Greek practice. Such evidence does not prove, therefore, that the meaning of deditio in fidem changed over time. It does show that the Roman practice of surrendering to trust was different from that of the Greeks: surrendering to Roman fides put no legal or moral obligations to the dediticii on the Romans, even though it gave them an option to treat the dediticii in a benevolent fashion. Although fides itself never put any legal obligations on the Romans, further evidence—such as what we know about Flamininus’s stance at Tempe and about senatorial debates concerning the fate of the Ligurians and Lusitanians—reflects a growing Roman attitude toward fides as being associated with good treatment of the dediticii, which emerged in the second century and was extended not only to Greeks but to other peoples as well. According to Livy, while proceeding to the siege of Heracleum in 169, M. Popilius implored the citizens to experience the trust and forbearance of the Romans (fidem clementiamque Romanorum). In a similar fashion, as Sallust tells us, Jugurtha could expect good treatment due to the trust and forbearance of the Roman people (in fide et clementia populi Romani

204. Pace Merten, “Fides,” 10, on the moral obligation of Rome in such cases. 205. E.g., J.-M. David, The Roman Conquest of Italy, trans. Antonia Nevill (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997), 36. 206. Harris, War, 34–35, 189–190; Merten, “Fides,” 10–12, and, e.g., Liv. 34.59.4–5.

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magnam spem illi sitam), provided he agreed to cooperate. Cicero summed up this attitude by noting that the vanquished who appealed to the general’s fides were to be treated with indulgence. Therefore, on the one hand, fides gave the Romans the option to offer good treatment to the dediticii. Precisely for this very reason, the treatment of the dediticii was still a matter of Roman discretion. Thus, in legal terms, the situation remained the same: surrendering to Roman fides still put no obligations on the Romans. On the other hand, the moral aspect of how to treat those who had surrendered themselves to Roman trust now came to the surface, which brings us to the last of the three above-mentioned problems: the relationship between deditio and deditio in fidem.

The Relationship between Deditio and Deditio in Fidem The fact that the Romans treated the dediticii in very different ways has led to the idea that there was more than one type of deditio. In particular, deditio has been seen as a “simple surrender,” whereas deditio in fidem has been viewed as providing guarantees to the dediticii. The notable exception has been Ferrary, who presented prearranged surrenders as a form of deditio in fidem, thus following the later Roman understanding of this practice. But this interpretation immediately creates a problem when, in 190, L. Scipio refused to offer any guarantees to the Aetolians and requested that they surrender to Roman fides. What Scipio did was, of course, nothing special, because deditio in fidem was, and had always been, an unconditional surrender to the “mercy” of the Romans, who were under no obligation to the dediticii, whereas prearranged surrenders were a special case of deditio. However, Ferrary’s conclusion was that “the refusal of L. Scipio in 190 to grant the Aetolians such conditional surrender was another indication of the hardening of Roman attitude and of intransigence (at least, with respect to the Aetolians),

207. Liv. 44.9.1; Sall. Iug. 33.4; Cic. De Off. 1.35. 208. See also, e.g., M. M. Westington, “Atrocities in Roman Warfare to 133 b.c.” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1938), 126; Paoli, “Quelques observations,” 276: “The non-citizens lived totally in dicione, under the unlimited imperium which was not conditioned by the constitutional guarantees enjoyed by the citizens,” 281; Kallet-Marx, Hegemony, 45–46: the subjection alone, whether “by defeat, conquest, or surrender,” did not establish the formal status of one who became subjected: the conqueror had the “power of discretion.” 209. Eckstein, “Glabrio,” 288: “Though no legally binding assurance was ever given to the dediti, the Romans were sincere in their approach to deditio, and surrounded the ritual with an aura of ‘good faith.’” This is true, of course, provided we keep in mind that this outcome always remained at Roman discretion. 210. E.g., Nörr, Fides, 8–9, 22; Wirth, Rückschritte: Zur verlangten Dedition von 190, 7, 11, 13–14.

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which differs from the politics of preceding years,” which reverses Ferrary’s earlier idea that the Romans were changing their policy under Greek influence, in favor of the Greeks, and implies that the Roman policy was being changed in just the opposite direction. There is no reason, however, that the Aetolians should have been an exception. We have just seen cases of Roman mistreatment of those who had surrendered in fidem, even later in the second century. In addition, no evidence exists, of course, to show that the Roman treatment of the Aetolians went against traditional Roman political and military practices. This vision of the difference between deditio in fidem and “simple” deditio, with the latter allegedly offering no protection to the dediticii, has been extended to Roman politics in the imperial period as well. Some even thought that deditio in fidem instituted legal relations between the dediticii and the Romans. This interpretation of the difference between deditio and deditio in fidem is based on two main arguments. One of them is the alleged difference in meaning between the word deditio and various other expressions (such as venire in fidem, se dedere in fidem, and others), which resulted in a variety of interpretations. For example, Eugen Täubler asserted the development of dedere in dicionem into dedere in fidem, while arguing that a dediticius was in a better position than a captivus, even though their legal status was the same; Jacques Heurgon, while following Heuss by acknowledging deditio as unconditional surrender, still tried to differentiate the significance of se dedere in dicionem, se dedere in fidem, and venire in fidem; Jules Paoli advanced the theory about the “bridging the formulae se dedere in dicionem and venire in fidem” whereas Gérard Freyburger believed that just the opposite took place: while originally synonymous, “entering in fidem” and “an unconditional deditio” parted ways over time. Irrespective of many visions of the nature of the relationship between these concepts, the common perception has been that, unlike deditio, deditio in fidem offered a certain protection to the dediticii. According to a recent opinion, this was what misled the Aetolians in 191. But what, then, was the problem, if the Aetolians surrendered to Roman fides as both Polybios and

211. Polyb. 21.5.3–6; cf. 21.4.11 and 13. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 73, 77–78 (quoted at 78). 212. G. Wirth, in Federazioni e federalismo, 480. 213. A. von Premerstein, in RE 4.1 (1900): 26; E. Täubler, Imperium Romanum (Leipzig: Teubner, 1913), 16–17. 214. Täubler, Imperium, 17; Heurgon, Recherches, 168–169; Paoli, “Quelques observations,” 276; Freyburger, “Fides et potestas,” 181. 215. E.g., Flurl, “Deditio in fidem,” 11–12, 99; Becker, “Fides,” 812; Freyburger, Étude, 111; Merten, “Fides,” 39; Brizzi, I sistemi, 23; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 22–52. The criticism of this view: Boyancé, Études, 106; Nörr, Aspekte, 18. 216. Nörr, Fides, 25–27.

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Livy say? It follows, therefore, that the problem was not in the difference between surrendering in fidem or in dicionem (or other such like expressions), since there was not any difference in status between them, but in the meaning of Roman fides itself, which Polybios had to explain to his readers. The other major argument in favor of distinguishing between “simple” deditio and deditio in fidem is that the acceptance (receptio) of deditio in fidem created a bond between the two sides and thus provided guarantees to the one that had surrendered. As to the first of these arguments, the idea that deditio in fidem established an agreement of some sort between the Romans and the dediticii has already been convincingly refuted. Therefore, it is the persistent understanding of fides as “confidence,” “faith,” or “trust” that is still provoking attempts to interpret surrender to Roman fides as having offered certain guarantees to the dediticii, thus defining their position as close or similar to that of clients. However, first, as we have seen, Roman fides by itself did not offer protection to the dediticii. Even when fides started to become more associated with the merciful treatment of the dediticii by the end of the Republic, which was largely due to Greek influence, fides itself still carried no moral or legal obligations. Deditio in fidem thus neither established the status of the dediticii nor offered them any guarantees or protection: it only secured Roman potestas over the dediticii. As a result, the dediticii were still in the same position as those vanquished by Roman force: the fate of either group was to be decided at Rome’s discretion (fides or arbitrium). When P. Scipio told the Aetolians that the Romans had treated the dediticii in Africa and

217. E.g., Calderone, ΠΙΣΤΙΣ, 67–69, 70–71, 80; Nörr, Aspekte, 16–17; Nörr, Fides, 13–17; M. Sordi, in Responsabilità, perdono e vendetta nel mondo antico, ed. M. Sordi (Milan: Vita e pensiero, 1998), 162. Pace K.-H. Ziegler, “Deditio und fides im römischen Volkerrecht,” ZRG 108 (1991): 279–280; David, Conquest, 36. 218. Heinze, “Fides,” 147, 151, 155; Heuss, Grundlagen, 61–69; Heurgon, Recherches, 168–169, Badian, Clientelae, 5–6; Calderone, ΠΙΣΤΙΣ, 68, 73; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 15–18, 32, 41; K.-H. Ziegler, “Kriegsverträge im antiken römischen Recht,” ZRG 102 (1985): 52. 219. E.g., A. Juret, Dictionnaire étymologique grec et latin (Mâcon: Protat frères, 1942), 346–347; Th. G. Tucker, A Concise Etymological Dictionary of Latin (Halle an der Saale: Niemeyer, 1931), 96; von Beseler, “Fides,” 151–152, 160; A. Walde, Lateinisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch3, ed J. B. Hofmann (Heidelberg: Winter, 1938–1956), 1:494 s.v. “fides”: “Treue, Glaubwürdigkeit, Bürgschaft, Kredit, Schutzverhältnis, Vertrauen, Glaube”; A. Ernout and A. Meillet, Dictionnaire etymologique de la langue latine: Histoire des mots, 3rd ed. (Paris: Klincksieck, 1951), 1:414. 220. E.g., Piganiol, “Venire in fidem,” 346–347; Imbert, “Fides,” 347–348; Calderone, ΠΙΣΤΙΣ, 73–79; Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 103–104; Rich, “Patronage,” 128–129; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 41–42; Valvo, “Istituti,” 169–170; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 73–75; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 156. On such relations inside the Roman community: Mommsen, Staatsrecht3, 3:55–57, 65–66, incl. 56 n. 3: deditio in fidem as “eine mildere Auffassung der Dedition.” For fides and clientela: Appendix 9. 221. As Lombardi, “Bona fides,” 50, 53–55; von Beseler, “Fides,” 143; Calderone, “Conquista,” 78. 222. Cf. Livy’s description of the surrender of the Aetolians: Liv. 37.1.5 (see n. 67 above), 37.1.6, 37.49.4 (see n. 72 above), and Caes. B.G. 1.36.1.

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Spain benevolently, he in no way meant that the Aetolians were guaranteed the same treatment. In fact, his words implied that things could have turned out differently for these dediticii if not for his, Publius’s, own mercifulness. Then his brother Lucius, quite expectedly, came up with the same two options for the Aetolians: either surrender to Roman fides, that is, to the discretion of the Romans, or pay an unbearable indemnity and have the same friends and enemies as the Roman, or, in other words, cease to be an independent political entity. Because surrendering to Roman fides offered no guarantees to the dediticii but only established Roman potestas over them, the Aetolians correctly described their prospective new position as “slavery,” since to be in one’s potestas was to be non-free. Second, we have already seen above that deditio in fidem in the second century often led to a positive outcome for those who surrendered to Roman fides: these dediticii obtained benevolent treatment from the Romans, received Roman protection against a third party (like the three Thessalian cities, which the Romans refused to give away to the Aetolians), and, as the Scipios’ letter to Heraclea by Latmus demonstrates, obtained their freedom together with various other rights. All this was, once again, a matter of Roman discretion (fides). The word fides also retained its old meaning. It still defined the faithful observance of their obligations by the Romans. It was in this sense that Plautus used the word fides. In the Republican period, therefore, the word fides continued to reflect the moral aspect of observing treaties and other obligations. From the early second century, moral duty with no connection to a formal agreement began to be defined by a separate concept, bona fides. The latter expression was especially prominent in the plays of Plautus, none of which can be attributed to the third century with

223. Polyb. 21.4.10–13 (see n. 71 above). 224. Polyb. 20.9.11–20.10.8; Liv. 36.28.4. See Fraenkel, “Geschichte,” 193–194. Certainly, if one associates surrendering to Roman fides with Rome’s having had a moral obligation to the dediticii, then the Roman treatment of the Aetolians can be considered either a break in Roman diplomatic practices (see Merten, “Fides,” 41–43; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 78 [see n. 211 above]) or a sign of their transformation; see Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 51. 225. E.g., Procul., Dig. 49.15.7.1; Liv. 1.38.1–2 (see nn. 5 and 6 above), and Liv. 36.27.8 (see n. 65 above). 226. E.g., G. F. Franko, in TAPA 125 (1995): 155–176. 227. G. Schiemann, “Fides. II. Recht,” in NPauly 4 (1998): 508. 228. M. Horvat, “Osservazioni sulla ‘bona fides’ nel diritto romano obbligatorio,” in Studi in onore di V. Arangio-Ruiz nel XLV anno del suo insegnamento (Naples: Jovene, 1953), 1:431–435; A. Beck, in Aequitas und Bona Fides: Festgabe zum 70. Geburtstag von A. Simonius (Basel: Helbing & Lichtenhahn, 1955), 14–17. 229. Horvat, “Osservazioni,” 437–438; Schiemann, “Fides,” 508.

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any certainty. Some have denied the moral aspect of bona, interpreting it as “valid” or “giving credit,” in the sense that we would ascribe to the word “good” in the phrase “good knowledge.” However, even if this interpretation is correct, this usage of bona still implies a connotation of trust and confidence. Surrendering to Roman fides, therefore, neither put any obligations on the Romans nor established any sort of formal relationship between the Romans and the dediticii. The status of the latter was to be decided only after the deditio in fidem had taken place. The other major argument of those who distinguish between deditio as a “simple surrender” and deditio in fidem as having offered guarantees to the dediticii was, as we have seen above, the idea that acceptance (receptio) of deditio in fidem created a bond between the two sides. The usual and, as it appears, the only grounds for such claims is the reference by Livy that Tarquinius (Priscus) acknowledged the surrender of the people of Collatina by saying at ego recipio. According to Livy’s text, however, Tarquinius neither made any mention of fides nor offered any guarantees to the people of that city. The same information from Livy has been used as the basis for the idea that the Romans had only one “full deditio ceremony,” which has been advanced, as a counterargument against those who supported the existence of more than one type of deditio, most notably by Arthur Eckstein: “It is precisely because fides adhered, powerfully but only informally, to the deditio ceremony (as one can see in the phrase of the Roman commander: ‘At ego recipio . . .’), that there is no reason to posit the existence of two separate Roman versions of deditio, one version being deditio in dicionem (potestatem), the other (milder) form being deditio in fidem.” The latter opinion is true, of course, even though it does not follow directly from the text of Livy. However, whereas deditio in fidem and deditio in potestatem meant the same thing, this alone does not imply that any deditio had “a strong element of fides,” as asserted by Eckstein: a surrender (deditio) in fidem, or in potestatem, meant an unconditional surrender, although in some cases a surrender took place only after its conditions had been agreed upon, thus becoming a prearranged surrender. In the absence of such prearranged agreements, a simple surrender to Roman fides created no bond and no obligations on the part of the Romans. Livy reflects on this situation when describing the surrender of the city of Palaepolis and

230. The emergence of bonae fidei iudicia has been placed in the second century: Horvat, “Osservazioni,” 435; Becker, “Fides,” 810. Cf. F. Wieacker, in ZRG 80 (1963): 20 and 29–37. See also Appendix 9. 231. H. Krüger, in ZRG 11 (1890): 178–179; Lombardi, “Bona fides,” 15, 38. 232. Liv. 1.38.2. See Ziegler, “Kriegsverträge,” 52. 233. Eckstein, “Glabrio,” 271, 273, 275; with the quote at 276 n. 16. Cf. a similar approach by, e.g., Becker, “Fides,” 812, and W. Dahlheim, in Rechthistorisches Journal 10 (1991): 42, who saw no difference between deditio in fidem and deditio in dicionem.

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referring to Charilaus, one of the conspirators who planned to surrender that city in fidem, saying that “it depended upon the trust of the Romans whether having accomplished his intention, he should appear to have betrayed his country or to have saved it.” Since surrendering in fidem meant surrendering to Roman discretion, the Roman generals could receive surrender in fidem on their own behalf and that of the Roman people: such a receptio did not put any obligations either on generals or on the Romans. Hence, we encounter the references to cities and peoples surrendering to the fides of Roman commanders, and to Roman commanders maltreating those who had surrendered to their fides. No valid grounds exist, therefore, to support the idea asserting that deditio in fidem was a type of surrender that offered certain guarantees to the dediticii and, therefore, to oppose it to a “simple” deditio, which allegedly defined unconditional surrender. The relationship between deditio in fidem and deditio appears, in fact, to have been just the opposite. The former concept referred to the surrender to Roman fides (or “trust” or “discretion”) as unconditional surrender, whereas the word deditio designated instances of prearranged surrender, that is, those that offered certain guarantees to the dediticii. For example, Livy makes a distinction between the status of the Campanians, who received the protection of the Romans by surrendering to Roman discretion (per deditionem in fidem), and the Latins, who had a treaty with the Romans; and Appian distinguishes between post-war settlements following an unconditional surrender on the one hand, and those resulting from an agreement on the other. Attempts have been made to explain this evidence by a possibility of surrendering both with conditions and to Roman fides (pactum-fides), so that a prearranged surrender and deditio in fidem were essentially the same. However, a community that had surrendered itself ceased to be a “sovereign legal entity,” and thus it was no longer able to make treaties in its own right. This community, therefore, could not expect to have any guarantees; if any were given, they came only at Roman discretion (fides).

234. Liv. 8.25.11: eo facta, utrum a se prodita an seruata patria uideatur, in fide Romana positum esse (326 b.c.). 235. E.g., Liv. 24.48.9, 37.26.9, 39.42.12. 236. The most famous such cases are those of the Ligurians (Liv. 42.8.1–6) and Lusitanians (Cic. Brut. 89; Liv. per. 49; Val. Max. 8.1.2, 9.6.2), which have already been discussed (see nn. 186–188 above). See also on L. Calpurnius Piso Caesonius (cos. 148) in Diod. 32.18 and App. Lyb. 110. 237. See Appendix 9. Liv. 8.2.13; App. Lyb. 64. 238. Nörr, Aspekte, 41–43, 129 n. 1, 135. D. Kienast, in Sodalitas: Scritti in onore di A. Guarino (Naples: Jovene, 1984), 1:105–123, similarly referred to different forms of deditio indiscriminately. 239. As correctly Ziegler, “Deditio und fides,” 281; Eckstein, “Glabrio,” 276.

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Some such cases of prearranged surrender are documented in the third century. For example, the prearranged surrender of the Syracusans in 212 gave “freedom” and other rights, as well as the status of “friend and ally,” to that city. Another such instance was the donation of freedom and other rights by the consul M.’ Acilius Glabrio to Delphi. We do not see “freedom” together with other rights either in the honorific inscription, which accompanied his statue, or in the inscription listing honors that he received from Delphi, which are dated to c.191–190. Nor do we see them in his letter to Delphi from c.190. It appears that the earliest reference to “freedom” being mentioned as having been granted together with other rights to Delphi by the Romans is in the letter by the consul, popular tribunes, and the senate, which was sent to Delphi in 189 or later. However, the text of this letter shows that the rights and privileges offered by the Romans had been requested from them as a “package” by ambassadors from Delphi. This was not, therefore, a grant but rather a confirmation of the existing privileges, which is thus reminiscent of the cases of prearranged surrender of Greek cities, when the privileges of such cities, including their “freedom,” were confirmed by the Romans. In her dealings with the Greeks, such as defining the status of their individual communities, Rome was now using Greek practices and vocabulary. A similar situation occurred at the surrender of the Phocaeans to the same M.’ Acilius Glabrio. Gustav Lehmann has already noted that the surrender of the Phocaeans was accompanied by the restoration of their “city, lands, and laws.” He also observed that the same expression was present in an honorific decree from Stymphalis in northern Arcadia, which concerns the restoration of Phocian Elatea. The latter inscription refers to the embassy sent by the people of Stymphalis to the Achaeans, with the aim of making the Achaean embassy appeal to M.’ Acilius Glabrio for the restoration of Elatea. The request to restore the “city, lands, and laws” was obviously included in the petition, which received a positive response from the Romans. In a similar fashion, the restoration of the “city, lands, and laws” to the Phocaeans followed the deditio of that city, which had been

240. See Appendix 9. 241. Syll.3 607 (c.191–190), 608 (c.191–190), 609 (c.190), respectively. 242. Sherk, Documents, no. 1 (= Syll.3 612), Doc. A, ll.4–5: the asylia, eleutheria, autonomia, and aneisphoria of the sanctuary of Delphi, as well as of the city and the territory (189 b.c.) with G. J. Szemler, E. W. Kase, and M. P. Angelos, “The Donation of M.’ Acilius Glabrio, cos. 191: A Reinterpretation,” AHB 3 (1989): 68–77. 243. Sherk, Documents, no. 1 (= Syll.3 612), Doc. B, l.3 (189 b.c.). 244. Lehmann, “Elateia,” 74 n. 17. 245. SEG 25, 445.10–13 (187 or 186 b.c.).

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arranged by the Phocaeans and reflected their view of what they should receive from the Romans. It was, therefore, the Greeks who gave the Romans the idea of viewing the status of a city as a composite of several rights and privileges, including “freedom”: the Romans guaranteed this status to the Greeks before such prearranged surrenders happened to take place. A prearranged surrender was what the Aetolians had suggested during the talks in Rome, before the Scipio brothers joined into the Roman-Aetolian negotiations. Both Polybios and Livy report that the Aetolians tried to establish exactly what they would have to surrender to Roman discretion. The senate refused to offer any clarifications, which has been interpreted as a refusal to “define the deditio in fidem.” However, deditio in fidem meant surrendering unconditionally to Roman trust and, for this reason, required no definitions. Polybios is very clear in saying that the senate refused to establish the conditions (or a definition: diastole) of the Aetolian surrender or, in other words, to allow the Aetolians to surrender on prearranged conditions. The evidence seen in the cases of prearranged surrender by Syracuse in Sicily, Delphi in Greece, and Phocaea in Asia Minor shows that the Roman approach to the status of individual communities became modified in the late third and early second centuries. This practice was then extended to cases of unconditional surrender, that is, the deditio in fidem. If the Romans preferred to treat those who had unconditionally surrendered to Roman discretion mercifully, such dediticii could now also expect to receive “freedom” together with other rights, such as the right to their territory and possessions, as well as the right to use their own laws. The letter of the Scipios says that Heraclea by Latmus received “freedom” and other rights in 189, similar to other cities that had unconditionally surrendered to Roman discretion. Cornelius Scipio might have sent a similar message in his letters to at least two other Greek communities: Heraclea Pontica and Colophon. In a similar fashion, after surrendering to Roman fides in 147, the Carthaginians would be able to expect to receive back their “freedom,” laws, territory, and “all other possessions both public and

246. Polyb. 21.2.5; Liv. 37.1.6. E.g., K. S. Sacks, in JHS 95 (1975): 94; Briscoe, “Senatorial Politics,” 1096. 247. The Romans were offering, therefore, the same unconditional surrender in fidem. The interpretation of this episode by Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 78, who correctly noted the influence of Greek pistis on the development of Roman fides, but spoke of the Roman stance in 190 as a departure from earlier practices, is quite confusing. 248. Syll.3 618 (= SEG 2, 566 = Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15 (see n. 20 above). 249. FGrH 434 (Memnon), F 18.6–8; SEG 1, 440 (= Sherk, Documents, no. 36): in response to the embassy from Colophon, probably concerning the right of the asylia by the temple of Apollo Clarios (190–189 b.c.).

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private,” as long as Carthage agreed to Roman demands, including giving hostages. Because the Romans now gave merciful treatment not only as a result of prearranged surrenders but also to those who had offered deditio in fidem, later authors would interpret fides as offering guarantees to the dediticii, including preserving the status of Greek communities as a composition of freedom and several other rights. For example, whereas in 210 the Syracusans defended in front of the senate their rights that had been agreed upon before they surrendered their city to the Romans in 212, Livy later reinterpreted the latter act as a surrender of Syracuse in fidem clientelamque. The prearranged surrender of Gades in 206 was similarly reinterpreted as a deditio in fidem by Livy, who thus explained the Roman benevolent treatment of that city as resulting from Roman fides: “A concession was made to the people of Gades, who asked that no prefect should be sent to Gades contrary to what had been agreed upon with Lucius Marcius Septimus when they put themselves in the trust of the Roman people (in fidem populi Romani).” And writing about two hundred years after this event, Cicero noted that a “treaty” (foedus) concluded between Rome and Gades (supposedly in the same episode, as mentioned by Livy) was upheld by the “faith” of the people of Gades and the Roman sense of justice (fide illius populi, iustitia nostra). Another such case was the surrender of the Phocaeans (190), who had negotiated that they should not be treated as enemies. When the soldiers started plundering the city, the praetor first tried to stop them by saying that only captured cities could be plundered (and only with the general’s permission), not those that had surrendered. Livy thus made no distinction (or preferred not to make any distinction) between deditio as a prearranged surrender, which provided merciful treatment to the dediticii by terms of the arrangement, and deditio in fidem, which left the fate of the dediticii to the discretion (fides) of the Romans. One of the reasons a later reinterpretation might have been possible was that prearranged surrenders were based on the promises of Roman generals, such as the surrender of Elatea’s citadel in 198: the garrison, and the city of Elatea, surrendered on certain conditions, which were promised (fide data) by the Roman general. Although the garrison and the citizens did not

250. Polyb. 36.3.4–9, 36.4.1–4. 251. See Appendix 9. 252. Liv. 28.37.10: Gaditani Romanis deduntur (cf. Liv. per. 28: amicitia facta) and 32.2.5. Cic. Balb. 34. 253. Liv. 37.32.9–14, incl. 10: pacti ne quid hostile paterentur. 254. Liv. 37.32.12: captas, non deditas diripi urbes, et in iis tamen imperatoris, non militum arbitrium esse. 255. Liv. 32.24.7: fide in haec data post dies paucos arcem recepit. Cf. the surrender of the citadel of Argos in 195; Liv 34.40.7: the Argives let Timocrates of Pellene leave in safety (vivum fide data emiserunt).

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surrender to the fides of this general, he gave his assurance (fides) that the conditions of the surrender would be preserved. As we have seen earlier, fides had been used to designate the Romans’ commitment to observing treaties and other agreements, which the Romans claimed to have maintained from the earliest period of their history. For this reason, too, the later understanding of fides as being associated with good treatment of the dediticii was retrospectively projected into the past and applied to prearranged surrenders, including, among other instances, Camillus’s takeover of the city of Falerii in 394. According to the story, preserved for us by Livy, while the city was being besieged by the Romans, a local teacher, expecting a reward, treacherously brought a group of children to the Roman camp. Camillus restored the children to their parents, but, certainly, only after making a pompous speech about the justice of the Romans. Then, Livy continues, the Faliscans, being impressed by fides Romana and iustitia imperatoris, decided to surrender themselves to the Romans (dedimus nos vobis), believing that they would fare better under Roman rule than under their own laws, and thus expecting good treatment due to Roman fides, which had just been demonstrated to them. Half a century later the Romans received a surrender of the Campanians. Capua had been fought over by Rome and the Samnites. When it surrendered to the Romans, the Campanians expected protection because the deditio had turned their possessions into Roman possessions. No wonder that the Campanians revolted in 340, and that, even after more than a hundred years, they used the first opportunity to go over to Hannibal. Yet later Roman sentiment was that Rome had waged wars against Samnium on behalf of the Campanians: pro iis bellum adversus Samnites . . . gessissemus. Likewise, the surrender of Sicilian cities in the time of the First Punic war, which, to a large extent, should have taken the form of their prearranged surrenders to Rome, would then be reinterpreted in retrospect as having been their deditio in Roman fides. A similar situation could have been reflected in an inscription from Alcántara, also in Spain, in which the imperator L. Caesius restored to the people of Seano “freedom” and other rights. No evidence exists to support the idea that this was a deditio in fidem. Such prearranged surrenders were on the mind of Cicero when he said that the Romans had concluded treaties

256. For this story, see Liv. 5.27.5–12. 257. Staatsverträge 2, no. 335 (343 b.c.); Liv. 7.31.3–12. 258. Revolts: Liv. 8.11.12–13 and 31.31.12. This sentiment: Liv. 31.31.10. 259. E.g., Diod. 23.4.1: on the surrender of sixty-seven Sicilian cities. 260. Nörr, Aspekte, 23, ll.7–10 (104 b.c.), and 135: “eine normativ limitierte Kapitulation.”

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with their former enemies based on fides. These later reinterpretations of fides might have emerged as part of the general effort by the Romans, displayed in the second century, to present Roman foreign policy as always having been selfless and based on moral principles. But reinterpreting instances of prearranged surrender, which guaranteed certain rights and privileges to the dediticii, as instances of having surrendered to Roman fides was only possible because of the later understanding of fides as having a meaning close to that of pistis, that is, as providing all those who had surrendered with merciful treatment. The guarantees that accompanied prearranged surrenders, on the one hand, and the later retrospective vision of deditio in fidem as always offering merciful treatment to the dediticii, on the other, have created a distorted vision of the relationship between deditio and deditio in fidem. Summing up, the earliest time when the Romans acknowledged the status of Greek communities as a composite of several rights and privileges was in the third century. At that time, however, Rome allowed Greek communities to retain their status only because it was secured as a result of prearranged surrenders. The Romans, therefore, largely left everything as it had been. Later, in the second century, the status of Greek communities started to be established as a result of deditio in fidem, which did not put any legal or moral responsibilities on the Romans. It was now, therefore, a conscious policy of Rome to preserve the status of the dediticii and to guarantee it in the future in return for their political loyalty. The Romans thus adapted to Greek practices: Rome both acknowledged the status of Greek cities as consisting of several rights and privileges (including “freedom”) and guaranteed to preserve it in return for those cities’ pledge of trust (fides). The Greek practice of reciprocal obligation, which accompanied the act of surrender, should also have been of interest to the Romans because it established a moral bond between the two sides, without the need to assume the form of a legally binding agreement. The moral obligation of the city that had surrendered came in return for benevolent treatment, including the protection of the city’s “freedom” and other rights. Flamininus’s declaration was soon followed by a change of political régime, which Flamininus and the Ten introduced in many Greek communities. “Roman freedom” in practice, therefore, meant the demolition of pro-Philip factions in these cities, in favor of those groups that would support the Roman cause or, in other words, a new political arrangement in

261. Cic. De Off. 3.111; cf. Sall. Iug. 14.5 and App. Iber. 58, 60 (the Lusitanians in 151 b.c.). 262. See also p. 155, nn. 66–69.

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individual Greek cities. As a result, the idea of moral obligation was extended to individual cities as well. At the meeting with the Greeks from Magnesia (in Greece) at Rome in 192—as the tensions between Antiochos and the Romans were rising, and as the Aetolians were becoming increasingly anti-Roman, so that many Greeks started to waver—Flamininus “was so inflamed with wrath that raising his hands to heaven he implored the gods to witness the ungrateful and treacherous spirit (ingrati ac perfidi animi) of the Magnetes.” This one more public performance by the remarkable man also reflected what had already become a part of Greco-Roman relations by that time—the Greeks were expected to be obliged to Rome because she had given them “freedom.” Zeno, one of the leading citizens of Magnesia, admitted that the Magnetes “owed not merely their freedom but everything which man holds sacred and dear to Titus Quinctius and the Roman people (T. Quinctio et populo Romano).” The formulaic nature of the latter phrase suggests that Zeno did not speak in the typical showlike manner of Flamininus but rather with reference to an existing document. As we have seen, Roman officers could be given a considerable amount of personal discretion (fides), so that they made decisions on behalf of themselves and the Roman people. Appeals, therefore, were made to the fides of the general and of the Romans. Flamininus’s letter to the city of Chyretiae shows that the status and the rights of this city were determined by Flamininus and the Roman people (ἐπεὶ καὶ ἐν τοˆι ς λοˆι ποˆι ς πᾶσιν φανερὰν πεποιήκαμεν τήν τε ἰδίαν καὶ τοῦ δήμου τοῦ Ῥωμαίων προαίρεσιν). This formula can probably be traced to the original declaration of Greek freedom by Flamininus—the declaration was made on behalf of the senate and Flamininus, but the senatus consultum was expected to express the will of the Roman people; it was then repeated in his letters to individual cities and in their honorific decrees for him. It would not be a stretch to suggest that in the absence of formal agreements between Rome and individual Greek cities, their relations were founded on such letters and on honorific decrees for Flamininus, which were set up by numerous Greek cities. The Roman fides, therefore, became the basis of Greek freedom. Armstrong and Walsh compared Flamininus’s letter to the city of Chyretiae (c.196–194) with the letter written by Antiochos III to his satrap Anaximbrotos in

263. Liv. 34.48.2. 264. Liv. 35.31.8, 14, and 15. 265. For such evidence, see pp. 163–164, nn. 127–131. 266. E.g., Liv. 24.48.9, 37.26.9, 39.42.12 (see n. 235 above). 267. IG IX.2, 338 (= Syll.3 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33).2–4 (c.196–194 b.c.). 268. E.g., Polyb. 18.46.5 (see n. 10 above); Liv. 33.32.5; Plut. Flam. 10.4; Val. Max. 4.8.5 (see p. 164, n. 135).

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204. They concluded that Flamininus was using the same Hellenistic formulae, including the words hairesis and proairesis, which they translated as “policy.” Even a quick look beyond the chronological limits of Antiochos III’s reign shows that these two words were basic concepts in the interrelationship between Greek cities and Hellenistic rulers, and that their meaning was more specific than merely “policy.” Both words designated a “stance,” or a “choice,” of a conscious benevolent attitude by the ruler, and members of his family, toward Greek cities. The two words were usually used in the context of royal generosity, which was repaid by the “goodwill” (eunoia) of the city, meaning, first and foremost, its political loyalty. Examples include honors by Miletus to the future Antiochos I, to Ptolemy II, to an officer of Ptolemy III (?), and to Eumenes II; Iasus’s relations with Antiochos III and Eumenes II, as well as the granting, and the preservation, of “freedom,” “autonomy” and other benefits to Teos by Antiochos III. In Appian’s words, after Flamininus made his declaration of Greek freedom in 196, Greek cities “threw wreaths and fillets upon the general and voted statues for him in their cities. They sent ambassadors with golden crowns to the Capitol at Rome to express their gratitude, and inscribed themselves as allies of the Roman people.” Appian’s “wreaths and fillets,” as well as Livy’s “garlands and chaplets,” show that Flamininus was treated as the “savior” (soter) of the Greeks. Hence the references to him as “savior” in his honorific inscriptions by Greek cities and the evidence for his cult in Greece. A Greek city could reciprocate a grant, or restoration, of freedom by venerating the benefactor with honors that bordered on divine worship: the

269. Letter of Flamininus: IG IX.2, 338 (= Syll.3 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33).2–4 (see n. 267 above); letter of Antiochos: Welles, Correspondence, no. 36. On the proairesis: Armstrong and Walsh, “Letter,” 34–35; Gelzer, “Achaica,” 125 (“politische Gesinnung”); Deininger, Widerstand, 138, 190 (“Richtung”); Musti, Polibio, 131 (“linea politica generale”); Musti, “Città,” 453 (“la volontà del re”). See also Errington, Hellenistic World, 212: on (the language and tenor of) this letter and its reception by the people of Chyretiae as having followed the tradition of relations between Greek cities and Hellenistic rulers. 270. I.Didyma 479 (= OGI 213 = Schenkungen, no. 281).8–10 (300–299 b.c.); Milet I 3, 139c.35–36, 42, 51–52 (c.262–260 b.c.); Ph. Gauthier, in RÉG 116 (2003): 472, ll.9–11 and 16–17 (“l’attitude”) (246–222 b.c.); Milet I 9, 307.2–5 (c.163–159 b.c.). 271. I.Iasos 4.41–43 (195–193 b.c.), 6.13–15 (182 b.c.); SEG 41, 1003.I.4–6 (c.204–203 b.c.) and 1004.7–10, 23–29 (c.196 b.c.?). 272. App. Mac. 9.4; Liv. 33.33.2. 273. Esp. Syll.3 592 = IG V.1, 1165 (Gytheum, 195 b.c.)—although connected with a later war against Nabis, this inscription likely used an already well-established designation for Flamininus; Plut. Flam. 16.3–4, 17.1; Walbank, “Alcaeus,” 145 n. 1; L. Cerfaux and J. Tondriau, Un concurrent du christianisme: Le culte des souverains dans la civilisation gréco-romaine (Tournai: Desclées, 1957), 281–282; J. Ch. Balty, in MÉFRA 90 (1978): 674; Eckstein, “Polybius,” 51. For this veneration of Flamininus, see also p. 363, n. 63. For ruler cult in the Hellenistic world: e.g., Habicht, Gottmenschentum2, 11–126 (individual cases), and 138–242 (thematic observations); S. R. F. Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 23–40.

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grateful Milesians praised Antiochos II as “Divine” (Theos) and later offered a “holy wreath from the sanctuary” to his son, Seleucos II. Connecting “freedom” and “safety” (soteria) was similarly an old Greek idea, which the Romans also came to use. Roman benevolence was to be reciprocated with political loyalty, displayed by embassies to Rome. Their main task was to secure the status of their cities, as well as their other rights and privileges. This same idea of reciprocal obligations was implied in the letter by Flamininus to Chyretiae, which demonstrated benevolent Roman policy (proairesis) by “generously” restoring to the city that which had been appropriated by the Roman public domain, “esteeming good will and reputation above all else”; and in Flamininus’s address to the Greeks in 194, when he declared it was the policy (proairesis) of the Roman people that all the inhabitants of Greece should “be free, ungarrisoned, and governed by their own laws.” It was also found in the letter of M. Valerius Messala to Teos in 193, which was written in a manner typical for responses by Hellenistic rulers to Greek cities: “[W]e shall endeavor to increase our honors to the gods and our kindness (philanthropa) to you commensurately, if you faithfully maintain in the future as well your good will (eunoia) toward us”; in the honorific decree by the people of Argos for Cn. Octavius (cos. 165), which connected the Achaeans’ commitment to the Roman cause with the “stance” (proairesis) toward Achaea by the Romans in general, and by the honorand in particular; and in the letter of Q. Fabius Maximus to Dyme, written several years after the destruction of Corinth, in which that Roman dealt with an individual Greek community by referring in general terms to “Greek freedom” and “our stance.” Such evidence begins to emerge in the 190s. It is not surprising, therefore, that, according to Livy, after the final Roman victory over Antiochos III in 189, the Rhodians addressed the senate with the request to leave the Greek cities of Asia free because “it behooves you to maintain for all time this patrocinium of a people received in your trust (fides) and clientela.” Many have already noted that nothing of this sort can be found in Polybios’s reference to this episode, which spoke only

274. OGI 226.5–7 with App. Syr. 65; OGI 227 (see p. 135, nn. 129–131). 275. E.g., the speeches by Agelaos: Polyb. 5.104.1, 6 (217 b.c.), and Thrasicrates: Polyb. 11.6.8 (207 b.c.). 276. IG IX.2, 338 (= Syll.3 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33).2–4 (see n. 267 above) and 13 (c.196–194 b.c.). 277. Diod. 28.13.1. 278. Syll.3 601 (= IGR IV 1557 = Sherk, Documents, no. 34 = Rigsby, Asylia, no. 153).21–23 (trans. Lewis and Reinhold, slightly altered). 279. SEG 16, 255.1–10, incl. 3–5 and 8–10 (Argos, 170 b.c.). 280. Syll.3 684.15–16 (c.139 b.c.?) = Sherk, Documents, no. 43.15–16 (115 b.c.?) = Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 186–199 (144–143 b.c.).

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of “freedom.” Therefore, Livy’s information has been held suspect. However, Polybios, while describing the same negotiations in Rome, presented the Syrian and Rhodian envoys as addressing the Romans as rulers and masters of the world. Both Polybios and Livy write that the Rhodians spoke on behalf of the freedom of the Greeks in Asia: as the Romans had waged a war against Antiochos for the freedom of the Greeks, and as the Greeks praised the Romans as “common benefactors,” by virtue of their having given freedom to the Greeks (and the earliest known such evidence has been dated to 182), it would not be surprising to find that the idea of the Roman patrocinium of Greece developed in the 180s as well. If one can still argue for a discrepancy between Livy’s and Polybios’s descriptions of the position that the Romans now held in the known world, then this discrepancy is revealing, as it reflects not only the Greek ignorance of the practice of clientela but also the Roman apprehension of the new interrelationship between Rome and the Greeks in the early second century. The same conclusion likely follows from Livy’s description of the negotiations between the Chalcidians and the Aetolian representatives of Antiochos in the late 190s. According to Livy, the Chalcidians refused to conclude an alliance with the King, except when authorized (ex auctoritate) by the Romans. The word is significant because auctoritas was what defined a patron’s relationship to his client. The “goodwill” of a city (as in the case of Teos) and the willing and unconditional “surrender” of a city (as in the case of Heraclea and “other cities”) now implied a Roman moral commitment to reciprocate in a benevolent fashion. In this way, the Roman patronate over the

281. Liv. 37.54.17; Polyb. 21.23.10. See Tränkle, Livius, 125–126; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 176; Rich, “Patronage,” 125–126. Pace Holleaux, Études, 5:380–381; Accame, Roma, 94–95; Muylle, “Traité,” 421–422; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 44. The debate on the date of the establishment of the Roman patrocinium over Greece: Hampl, Geschichte, 3:105; S. Mandell, in Class. Bulletin 65 (1989): 89–94. 282. Polyb. 21.23.4 and 21.16.8, respectively. 283. E.g., Polyb. 21.22.7, 21.23.10. 284. If we accept a restoration of what is an honorific inscription accompanying the statue of Eumenes II, which was set up by the Delphic Amphictyons: Syll.3 630.17–18 (182 b.c.). The bibliography on common benefactors is large; see esp. (and also with reference to this inscription) Volkmann, “Rhetorik,” 467; Chr. Habicht, in AM 72 (1957 [1958]): 248 n. 126; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 125–126; and J.-L. Ferrary, “De l’évergétisme hellénistique à l’évergétisme romain,” in Actes du Xe Congrès international d’épigraphie grecque et latine: Nîmes, 4–9– octobre 1992, ed. M. Christol and O. Masson (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1997), 200. 285. Cf. J. Vogt, Tacitus als Politiker (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1924), 10, on corresponding new trends in Greek philosophy from c. mid-second century b.c., with reference to the ideas elaborated on by the “Scipionic circle.” Negotiations between the Chalcidians and the Aetolian envoys of Antiochos III: Liv. 35.46.11–13 (see p. 370, n. 91). For this view on auctoritas, see Procul., in Dig. 49.15.7.1: et quemadmodum clientes nostros intellegimus liberos esse, etiamsi neque auctoritate neque dignitate neque viribus nobis pares sunt.

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Greek world was established. Although the Romans had always had an option to treat those who had surrendered to Roman fides with mercy, the idea of a reciprocal commitment had only recently been borrowed from the Greeks by the Romans. While the Roman army was prepared to leave Greece in 194, in his speech “as from a father’s lips,” which caused “tears of joy from every eye,” Flamininus referred to “Greek freedom” as having been restored by the fides of the Romans, who now entrusted it to the Greeks’ own keeping. Flamininus’s alleged “fatherhood” might look ironic, since, in his mid-thirties at that time, he was speaking to the most prominent, and often elderly, representatives of the Greeks. Yet the position of the “father” had its political advantages. In practical terms, the Romans claimed that they were now entitled to interfere in Greek affairs in defense of Greek freedom, which was being threatened—or was presented as being threatened—by Antiochos. In another similar case, following the negotiations with Antiochos’s envoys at Rome in 193, Flamininus declared that the loyalty (fides) of the Romans made them maintain the patrocinium of Greek freedom. According to the hymn in praise of Flamininus by the Chalcidians, he would be remembered as the “savior” who restored Greek freedom with the help of Roman “good faith.” After the defeat of Antiochos, “good faith” would from then on be associated with the interrelationship between Rome and individual Greek cities. The status of a Greek city was acknowledged and protected so long as that city’s political loyalty to the Romans remained unbroken. In one such case, Colophon’s support of Rome brought the Colophonians the right to use their own laws; in another, a proconsular letter to Chios demonstrated that the right of the Chians to try Roman citizens by local laws was the result of Chios’s loyalty to Rome in the Mithridatic war. This quid pro quo interrelationship certainly also had the other side: Aemilius Paullus sacked numerous cities of Epirus because they had withheld their political loyalty to Rome by allegedly supporting Perseus. The Romans accepted an obligation to treat the Greeks in a merciful way and to respect the

286. See Appendix 9. 287. Liv. 34.49.11, 34.50.1. 288. Liv. 34.59.4–5. 289. Liv. 34.58.11; Plut. Flam. 16.4. 290. Colophon: L. Robet and J. Robert, Claros: Décrets hellénistiques (Paris: Éd. Recherche sur les civilisations, 1989), 1:64, Col. I (= SEG 39, 1244.I).40–48 and II (= SEG 39, 1244.II).2–5 (after 120–119 b.c.), 86–87; J.-L. Ferrary, “Le statut des cités libres dans l’empire romain à la lumière des inscriptions de Claros,” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres 1991, 574. Chios: SEG 22, 507 = Sherk, Documents, no. 70 (c. a.d. 4–5?). 291. Liv. 45.34.1–6; Plut. Aem. 29.2–5; Strabo 7.7.3, p. C 322. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 548–550. Pace Larsen, States, 481, who spoke of the Roman desire for profit; but see pp. 481–482.

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status of their cities, including their freedom, only when those cities had pledged loyalty to Rome for the future.

c onclusion The adoption of the Greek slogan of freedom by the Romans after they had defeated Philip had many important consequences, including the introduction of new principles in Rome’s relationship with the Greeks in general and with individual Greek cities in particular. The change the Romans made to local “constitutions,” which started soon after the end of the Second Macedonian war and continued until the evacuation of the Roman army from Greece in 194, fell within the traditional pattern of the use of the slogan of freedom in pre-Roman Greece: similar changes to local “constitutions” had followed the “liberation” of the Greeks by the Spartans after the King’s Peace; the Achaean cities in the northern Peloponnese by the Thebans (in the aftermath of the Theban victory at Leuctra); the Thessalians by Philip II; and the Spartans by Antigonos Doson. The fact that the ten commissioners, who had just arrived from Rome, actively participated in these “constitutional reforms” shows that the Romans very quickly came to appreciate the political benefits of this slogan, as does the fact that the Greek slogan of freedom continued to be used by the Romans after Flamininus left Greece (see next two chapters). Another such change was the new understanding the Romans had of the “freedom” of individual cities consisting of several components, such as the freedom to have one’s possessions, freedom from taxes, freedom from being garrisoned, and freedom to use one’s laws and “constitution.” This refined understanding of freedom emerged during the course of conflicts among the major powers in Greece, which were reflected by a series of Peace treaties in the fourth century, and which survived in the relationships between Hellenistic rulers and individual Greek communities in Greece and Asia Minor. The Romans then adapted this practice to their relations with individual Greek cities, starting in the early second century. The same system survived into later times. In the Roman period, both provinces and cities could be “free and immune”; and individual cities

292. E.g., IG IX.2, 338 = Syll.3 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33 (Chyretiae, c.196–194 b.c.). 293.The Spartans: Isocr. 4.126; Xen. Hellen. 6.3.7–9; Diod. 15.5.3. The Thebans: Xen. Hellen. 7.1.43 with Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 142–143. Philip II: Dem. 9.26 (see Appendix 5,  10); FGrH 115 (Theopompos) F 208 = Harpocr. s.v. τετραρχία (see Appendix 5,  11). Antigonos Doson: Paus. 2.9.2. 294.Cities: e.g., Caes. B.A. 7, 33. Province: e.g., Cic. Font. 27.

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could have received separate grants of immunity, the right to use their own laws, and the right of citizens to their own property, respectively. The cities of Plarasa and Aphrodisias received grants of “freedom” and “autonomy” by senatus consultum and a letter from Mark Antony. Nero’s famous speech (which he made during his tour of Greece in 66–68) at the Isthmian games was, certainly, modeled on that of Flamininus, as noted already by his contemporaries and indirectly supported by its archaizing style, even though Nero preferred to make the declaration not through a herald but by his own “divine” voice. In the words of Pausanias, Nero gave to Greece “complete freedom.” The inscription set up by the city Acraephia and surviving literary accounts show that Nero gave to the Greeks “freedom,” “freedom from taxes,” and the freedom to use local laws. The complex understanding of “freedom,” which the Romans took over from the Greeks, in turn led to a change in the Roman use of deditio in fidem. When a deditio in fidem was followed by the Roman benevolent treatment of the dediticii, “freedom” could be restored to them together with their other rights, as was the case of the Heracleans (in 189) or the Carthaginians (in 149). Defining the status of individual Greek cities began to include the modified idea of Roman fides as well: Roman fides, now more and more understood as “good faith,” was being transformed into the Roman intention to preserve the status of individual Greek cities in return for their loyalty to Rome. Therefore, while the meanings of fides and deditio in fidem remained the same, the use of fides expanded. The status of Greek cities (beginning with their “freedom”) now depended on their political stance and, more precisely, on their “good faith” in Rome. “Good faith” was thus pledged by both sides, constituting a bond of reciprocal obligations. This certainly was not the same general slogan of Greek freedom that had been announced by

295. E.g., Cic. Philip. 2.97; [Cic.] Ad Oct. 3 (third or fourth century a.d.?). 296. E.g., Cic. Ad Att. 6.2.4. Cf. Quintil. Decl. min. 329.1. 297. E.g., Liv. per. 81: after capturing Athens in 87–86 b.c., Sulla left the Athenians their “freedom” and property. 298. Sherk, Documents, no. 28 (39–35 b.c.) with Robert, OMS 6:92 n. 3 (39 b.c.). 299. Plut. Flam. 12.8; M. Holleaux, Discours prononcé par Néron à Corinthe en rendant aux Grecs la liberté (Lyon: Pitrat Ainé, 1899), 20; P. Gallivan, in Hermes 101 (1973): 230–234 (a.d. 67). 300. Paus. 7.17.3: ἐλεύθερον ὁ Νέρων ἀφίησιν ἁπάντων with Dmitriev, “Province of Asia,” 130–133: on “Greece” as the territory excluding Macedonia in the north from at least the time of the Lamian war. 301. Holleaux, Discours, 5 (= Syll.3 814 = ILS 8794), ll.12–15 and 42–45. See Plut. Flam. 12.8 and Plin. NH 4.22; the grant of autonomy was implied by Paus. 7.17.3–4. Pace C. Bearzot, Storia e storiografia ellenistica in Pausania il Periegeta (Venice: Cardo, 1992), 34, on Pausanias “assimilating” eleutheria with immunity, thus adopting the typical Roman approach to the status of that city as libera et immunis.

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Flamininus in 196. Because deditio in fidem now began to be associated with merciful treatment of the dediticii, fides was more and more understood as a “protection” or “guarantee,” in the sense of a moral commitment (thus coming closer to the meaning of Greek pistis), and later authors retrospectively projected this new understanding into the past. In addition to the above-mentioned examples, we see the words of encouragement by P. Cornelius Scipio to the Spaniards, because “they had come into the power of the Roman people (in populi Romani potestatem), which prefers to bind men by favor rather than by fear, and to keep foreign nations linked by loyalty and alliance (fide ac societate), rather than reduced to a harsh slavery,” which Livy probably copied from the work of Valerius Antias, and the words of “Papirius” (C. Papirius Maso? cos. 231), who accepted the surrender of the Faliscans in 241 and protected them from the wrath of the Romans by saying, in the text of Valerius Maximus, that “the Faliscans had committed themselves not to Roman power but to Roman faith (fidei).” For this reason, many authors, both ancient and modern, do not always make a distinction between deditio and deditio in fidem. However, deditio was not always deditio in fidem, because in some cases deditio came in the form of a prearranged surrender that provided certain guarantees to the dediticii and, therefore, did not leave their fate completely to the discretion (fides) of the Romans. As a result, contrary to what seems to have been the traditional opinion, deditio in fidem gave the Romans more power over the dediticii than a mere (often prearranged) deditio, precisely because deditio in fidem left everything to Roman discretion (fides). When fides started to become more and more associated with benevolent treatment and “protection,” and to form the foundation of the new political order in Greece, such cases or prearranged surrenders were reinterpreted (in the text of Livy, in particular) as instances of surrendering in fidem. The Romans posed as “common benefactors,” that is, the protectors of “Greek freedom,” following their victory over Antiochos in 189. The earliest known

302. Pace Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 71: the same “Roman politics of freedom.” 303. Liv. 26.49.8; Staatsverträge 3, no. 494 = Val. Max. 6.5.1. 304. As, e.g., Calderone, ΠΙΣΤΙΣ, 68. 305. Pace Linderski, “Cato,” 380–381, 390, on the Aetolians to surrender only with certain conditions as their failure “to comprehend the all-encompassing nature of deditio,” which amounted to proposing “to alter the legal nature of deditio.” In fact, just the opposite was true: deditio could be prearranged, whereas deditio in fidem (i.e., what the Romans wanted from the Aetolians) indeed meant an unconditional surrender to the mercy of Rome. 306. See Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 77: “it is true that the fides did not alter in principle the unconditional character of deditio.” But deditio could also refer to prearranged surrenders, which were not unconditional; and if there were no difference “in principle” between the two expressions, why did the Romans use both?

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reference to this expression dates to 182. Its appearance reflected the situation in which “freedom” changed from a political slogan of a general nature into the basis of Rome’s relations with individual cities. Hellenistic parallels are obvious here as well: although the Successors continued to use the general slogan of freedom in order to secure their borders and undermine each other’s strength after 311, they also started to put more emphasis on “freedom” in their relations with the individual cities that lay in the territory of their domains. In a similar fashion, after expelling Antiochos from western Asia Minor and securing their domination over this region and Greece, the Romans proceeded to deal with individual Greek cities, whose status was now defined either by “freedom” or by its absence, along with other rights. Both then and now, the status of a city was determined by its “good faith,” or loyalty, to the one in whose domain the city found itself.

307. Syll.3 630.17–18 (see n. 284 above). 308. See also I.Metropolis I A, II.13–14 and 18: the Romans, as “common benefactors,” gave freedom to individual cities in western Asia Minor, in accordance with the testament of Attalos III (c.131–130 b.c.?).

8 Rhodes between Rome and Perseus

i Similar principles guided the Apamean settlement that took place several years after the Romans freed the Greeks of Asia from the control of Antiochos III. Autonomous cities that remained faithful to Rome received immunity; those that had abandoned Roman “friendship” were required to pay the same tribute to Eumenes that they had paid to Antiochos. After Antiochos had been pushed beyond the Taurus range, a hearing concerning the organization of his former territorial possessions, including the status of Greek cities, took place in Rome at some time in the period from “the beginning of the summer following the victory of the Romans over Antiochos” to the return and triumph of P. and L. Scipio. The main debate occurred between two Roman supporters, the Rhodians and Eumenes II of Pergamum. Although the Rhodians made it quite clear that the fate of these cities was in the hands of Rome as the winner in the war, they also spoke for the freedom of the Greeks of Asia (πρεσβεύονται δὲ περὶ τῆς ἐλευθερίας τῶν τὴν Ἀσίαν κατοικούντων Ἑλλήνων), urging the Romans to be consistent and to give the Greeks their freedom, which had been the declared aim of the war. Eumenes’s passionate counterargument was that the grant of freedom to Greek

1. E.g., Polyb. 21.45.1–12; Liv. 38.39.8–17. 2. Polyb. 21.45.2–3. 3. Polyb. 21.18.1, 21.24.16–17. 4. Polyb. 21.22.14, 21.23.4, and Polyb. 21.19.5, 21.23.7–12, respectively.

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cities threatened his control over his own subject cities, ending with a very clear statement that instead of giving freedom to those who had been in servitude, the Romans would do better to confer a fitting token of gratitude on their true friends. Eumenes, certainly, meant himself; “a fitting token” being the former subject cities of Antiochos. The debate between the Rhodians and Eumenes II has usually been interpreted as the desire of each party to establish its own control over the territory that had just been taken away from Antiochos. This interpretation is certainly true. Even if the wording of the speeches was likely that of Polybios, there is no reason to doubt the general content of these speeches on the grounds that in the form presented by Polybios, they reflect Rome’s abandonment of the “principle of Greek freedom,” which the Romans, in fact, never had (see Epilogue). The situation thus appears to have been more nuanced than it might seem at first glance. Rhodes had been posing as the defender of Greek interests long before the Roman war against Antiochos III. The present examination will benefit from a summary of the evidence that we have about Rhodes’s stance as the champion of Greek freedom and safety, which this island is known to have claimed from the late fourth century. At that time, Rhodes refused to participate in the infighting of the Successors on any side, and once she had to make a deal with Demetrios, she insisted on certain conditions for her cooperation with the Antigonids. If we believe Diodoros, Rhodes “advanced to such strength that in behalf of the Greeks she by herself undertook her war against the pirates and purged the seas of these evil-doers.” An honorific inscription from Delos for the Rhodian nauarch Antigenes refers to him as the one who secured the safety of the Greeks and came, together with his fellow officers, to the “defense of the Greeks.” This clearly refers to the protection of the Cyclades against Egypt around the mid-third century. Rhodes’s special position in the Greek world might explain the generous help given to this island by the most prominent Hellenistic monarchs when Rhodes suffered a devastating earthquake in 227. Rhodes would also pursue the same policy of championing the interests of the Greeks, which allowed the Rhodians to

5. Polyb. 21.19.9, 21.21.10. 6. E.g., Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 52–53; Ferrary, “Rome et les cités grecques,” 96; D. W. Baronowski, “The Status of Greek Cities of Asia Minor after 190 b.c.,” Hermes 119 (1991): 454. 7. E.g., Bikerman, “Notes sur Polybe. I,” 234; Magie, Rule, 108 (“apocryphal”). 8. See chapter 3. Conditions: Diod. 20.99.3. 9. Diod. 20.81.3. 10. IG XI.4, 596 = Dürrbach, Choix, vol. 1, no. 39 = P. M. Fraser and G. E. Bean, The Rhodian Peraea and Islands (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1954), 158 n. 3, ll.2–9 (c.250–220), with Dürrbach commentary, Choix, 1:45 ad no. 38. 11. Wiemer, Traditionen, 35, 37, 46.

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play the dominant rôle in the Aegean in the latter half of the third century. When the Byzantines, having been pressed by the Galatians, levied duties on exports from the Pontus, it was to the Rhodians that the Greeks appealed for protection. Rhodes was roused to action because of both her own losses and those of other states in the same position. Therefore, in 220 the Rhodians formally declared war on Byzantium to protect the interests of the Greeks. Not surprisingly, the Byzantines appealed to Attalos of Pergamum for help. He was the most ardent opponent of Rhodes in Asia Minor. It is possible that the conflict between Rhodes and Byzantium also resulted for the reason that Byzantium claimed a similar rôle to herself to that of Rhodes, including protecting the Greeks against the pirates: together with Rhodes, Byzantium would help M. Antonius to fight pirates in Cilicia at the very end of the second century. At about the same time, Rhodes received an appeal for help from the people of Iasus, who were suffering wrongs at the hands of an officer in the service of the local dynast Olympichos of Alinda. Andrew Meadows, who republished and reinterpreted the corresponding evidence, responded to the question as to why Iasus turned to Rhodes, by asserting that “obviously the answer lies in the substantial local military and economic power wielded by Rhodes.” This explanation can hardly be disputed. It should be complemented, however, with reference to the special position occupied by Rhodes in the Greek world at that time. The Rhodians then mediated the peace between Philip V and the Aetolians in the late third century, appealing to the interests of all Greeks and connecting their freedom and safety with peace in Greece, thus opposing any foreign involvement in Greek affairs. Therefore, Rhodes once again posed as the champion of Greek freedom. The Rhodians also protected the Greeks from the piratic activities of the Cretans and the Aetolians. Such activities were being backed by Philip V, who was also behind the missions of Dicaearchos and Heracleides. These probably took

12. See Gelder, Geschichte, 112–113, 115, 121; D. Magie, “The ‘Agreement’ between Philip V and Antiochus III for the Partition of the Egyptian Empire,” JRS 29 (1939): 35; Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 230, 1372; H. Pohl, Die römische Politik und die Piraterie im östlichen Mittelmeer vom 3. bis zum 1. Jh. v. Chr. (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1993), 129; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 57, 155–159. 13. Polyb. 4.47.1 with Gelder, Geschichte, 115. See P. de Souza, Piracy in the Graeco-Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 49–50; Wiemer, Traditionen, 39–40. 14. Rhodes and Byzantium: Polyb. 4.47.3, 6 and 4.48.1. For this date: H. Heinen, in CAH2 7.1 (1984): 433, 440. Byzantium and pirates: V. Gabrielsen, “Economic Activity, Maritime Trade and Piracy in the Hellenistic Aegean,” RÉA 103 (2001): 231, 235; cf. Polyb. 4.50.3. M. Antonius: Will, Histoire, 2:390. 15. A. Meadows, “Four Rhodian Decrees: Rhodes, Iasos and Philip V,” Chiron 26 (1996): 251–265 (at 262), incl. 257 (“between c.220 and c.214 b.c.”) = I.Iasos 150. 16. For 217 and the subsequent period: e.g., Polyb. 5.24.11, 5.29.1–2, 5.100.9 with Ager, Arbitrations, no. 53; Liv. 27.30.10. For 207: e.g., Polyb. 11.4–6; App. Mac. 3.1 and 4.1.

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place in connection with the death of Ptolemy Philopator in the summer of 204 (see Appendix 8). The interpretation of the First Cretan war as bellum piraticum has been questioned; but, significantly, the Roman treaty with Philip in 197 expressly forbade him to establish alliances with the Cretans, and evidence exists that Philip supported the piratic activities of Dicaearchos and Heracleides. This evidence casts further light on Rhodes’s position as the champion of Greek freedom: Philip realized the need to neutralize the Rhodians in order to establish his control over the islands. It was Philip’s “enslavement” of Cius that, finally, unleashed a direct conflict between him and Rhodes: the latter once again acted in the defense of Greek freedom, by adding the islanders to the Rhodian alliance. Rhodes held the same stance when Antiochos arrived with his forces on the Aegean coast and was about to take over cities allied with the Ptolemies. The Rhodians declared their readiness to defend the freedom of Myndus, Halicarnassus, Samos, and Caunus. This information, which comes only from Livy, could have been provided to justify Rome’s later taking away Caunus (and Stratonicea) from Rhodes, over objections by the Rhodians. They claimed that these cities had come into their hands not as a result of the Apamean settlement in 188 but in other ways and thus constituted Rhodian possessions. According to a Roman version, however, Caunus became a tributary to Rhodes only after the Roman defeat of Antiochos, whereas Stratonicea was given to Rhodes by the Romans. A debate still continues on whether the Rhodians actually conflicted with Antiochos or established an agreement with him, as Rawlings III believed. The fact that the Rhodians did not help Rome when Antiochos crossed into Greece, which Rawlings III emphasized in support of his theory, hardly proves the existence of such an agreement. Irrespective of their course of action, the Rhodians achieved what they wanted: Myndus, Halicarnassus, Samos, and perhaps Caunus remained free: we see these cities among those mediating peace between Miletus and Magnesia (probably in 196), with Rhodes as the main force behind this mediation—hardly a

17. Wiemer, Krieg, 143–144; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 164. The treaty: Liv. 34.35.9. Dicaearchos and Heracleides: Wiemer, Krieg, 41–42, and Appendix 8. 18. As Magie, “‘Agreement,’” 35; Albert, Bellum, 102–103; E. Badian, “Philippos V.,” in NPauly 9 (2000): 804; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 188. 19. Polyb. 15.23.3: τὸν ἐξανδραποδισμὸν τῶν Κιανῶν. Bibliography: Wiemer, Traditionen, 74 n. 59. 20. Liv. 31.15.8, 10. 21. Liv. 33.20.1–3 and 11–12. 22. The Rhodian version: Polyb. 30.21.3, 30.31.5–6. The Roman version: App. Mithr. 23; Liv. 33.30.11. See now S. Dmitriev, “The Rhodian loss of Caunus and Stratonicea in the 160s,” HSCP 105 (2009 [2010]): 157–176. 23. Schmitt, Untersuchungen, 286, and Ma, Antiochos, 84–85. Rawlings III, “Antiochus,” 6–7 (early in 197).

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surprise given the old Rhodian conviction that war among Greeks meant Greek enslavement. Rhodes preserved the freedom of these cities for the reason that David Magie made clear a long time ago: “The ‘defense’ of the independence of these communities was, accordingly, the assurance of protection against any act of aggression such as the King committed in Cilicia and in Lycia.” Here, too, the Rhodians declared undertaking to protect the “freedom” of cities to forestall an aggression by a third party, which, as we have already seen, was an old tool of Greek politics. Thus the Rhodian slogan of freedom once again displayed its very practical purpose, which makes it hard to accept the idea of a “distinct break” in Rhodian foreign policy during the 190s. On the contrary, Rhodian foreign policy was stunningly consistent throughout this time. An appeal to Rhodes to protect the freedom (eleutheria) of Cius (?) has been dated to this time as well. The restoration of the “League of the Islanders,” or the Nesiotic League, under Rhodian leadership has been dated to about 196. However, Thrasicrates spoke on behalf of the islanders in 207, and Rhodes already controlled all of the islands (with the exception of Andros, Paros, and Cynthos, which were then being held by Macedonian garrisons) in 200. The establishment of the Second Nesiotic League was thus the culmination of a development of many years. Organizationally, however, the new edition of the League came in the aftermath of Philip’s defeat, and probably in response to the activity of the Attalids, as well as Antiochos III: Epicrates, another Rhodian nauarch honored by Delos, was probably the same “Epicrates the Rhodian” who had fought against Antiochos III under the banner of Greek freedom. As a result, Rhodes both organized her own allies as a League and proclaimed the

24. Syll.3 588 (= Milet I 3, 148).4–21, 58–59, 64–66, 69–73 (c.196 or after 185–184). P. Herrmann, “Milet au IIe siècle a.C.,” in Les cités d’Asie Mineure occidentale, 112, 114, placed this inscription after Milet I 3, 150 (= Syll.3 633), which he dated to c.185–184. See Rawlings III, “Antiochus,” 12, and Magie, Rule, 946 n. 49. 25. Rawlings III, “Antiochus,” 7. 26. Polyb. fr. 172 = Suda s.v. κατεξαναστάντες. See Wiemer, Traditionen, 73, and Wiemer, Krieg, 271: “since 200”; Gelder, Geschichte, 127–128 (199). This identification: Walbank, Commentary, 3:176; cf. Polyb. 15.23.3. 27. K. Sheedy, “The Origins of the Second Nesiotic League and the Defence of Kythnos,” Historia 45 (1996): 432. 28. For 207 b.c.: Polyb. 11.4.1–11.6.9. For 200 b.c.: Liv. 31.15.8; W. König, “Der Bund der Nesioten: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Kykladen und benachbarten Inseln im Zeitalter des Hellenismus” (diss., Halle a. S., 1910), 32, 41; D. V. Sippel, “Rhodes and the Nesiotic League” (Ph.D. diss., Cincinnati, 1966), 27–28, 43, 53. 29. Sheedy, “Origins,” 435, 449. 30. IG XI.4, 751 (= Dürrbach, Choix, no. 67).8–12 (c.200 b.c.); Liv. 37.13.11. As Sheedy, “Origins,” 432 n. 47. 31. E.g., Polyb. 21.42.16: one of the clauses in the Apamean settlement referred to the allies of the Rhodians.

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general slogan of Greek freedom, which undermined the effectiveness of other military alliances. This stance by Rhodes closely resembles that of major political powers, such as Sparta (with her Peloponnesian League), Athens (with her Second Confederacy) or Thebes (with her Boeotian Federation), all of which also claimed to protect the freedom of all Greeks as well. If we now return to the debate between the Rhodians and Eumenes II, following the Roman defeat of Antiochos III, the slogan of Greek freedom, as it was being advanced by the Rhodians, appears to have had a certain nuance attached to it, which has been passed over in relevant examinations. Rhodes defended Greek freedom and autonomy neither for the sake of the Greek cities themselves nor even simply to remove these cities from Eumenes’s control (which is the usual explanation), but to maintain the political status quo and contain possible future aggressions by Eumenes. The Rhodians had demonstrated a similar approach in their dealings with Antiochos III (see below). It appears, therefore, that in their debate against Eumenes, the Rhodians used the Greek slogan of freedom in the same way as it had been employed by Rome in 197–191. Thus the debate in Rome was conducted from two different perspectives: freedom of the Greeks (in general) as a political tool (the Rhodians) and freedom, or its absence, for individual Greek cities that had previously been subject to Antiochos (Eumenes). In the Rhodian interpretation (which is what the text of Polybios reflected), Eumenes was claiming control over autonomous cities as well. The king was most likely demanding, however, that some of the autonomous cities would have to pay tribute to him, which did not infringe their autonomy, because the status of an autonomous city was compatible with the obligation of this city to pay a tribute to the ruler. While it is uncertain whether the Rhodian slogan of Greek freedom acknowledged the obligation of Greek cities to pay tribute to Attalos, the Rhodian use of the slogan of freedom as a means of containment explains why there was no inconsistency between the proclamation of Greek freedom by Rhodes and the fact that the Rhodians eagerly assumed control over Carian and Lycian cities

32. As Gruen, Hellenistic World, 547; Ager, “Rhodes,” 27, with Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 207 n. 112 (“die rhodische Propaganda”). Cf. Holleaux, Études, 5:422. 33. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 157, noted this fact but explained the motives of the Rhodians only by their simple desire to remove these cities from the control of the Attalids and described their words as “anachronistic.” 34. On Rhodian origin of this story: Wiemer, Traditionen, 130–137, 149. Polyb. 21.22.10. 35. See Walbank, Commentary, 3:165–166 ad Polyb. 21.46.2–3, and a different approach by Koehn, KriegDiplomatie-Ideologie, 207 n. 112, who asserted that Eumenes had in mind only some Greek cities in that region. 36. Sherwin-White, Foreign Policy, 25.

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as a result of the negotiations. As we have already seen above, general declarations of freedom (from the King’s Peace to that of Flamininus) had never had any relevance to the status of individual cities. In the end, however, the Romans once again preferred to establish territorial delimitations rather than using the general slogan of Greek freedom: they gave the territory to the north of the river Maeander over to the Attalids, whereas the region to the south of this river, composed largely of Lycia and Caria, came to the Rhodians. The Rhodians continued to maintain their stance as champions of Greek freedom, even after the Apamean settlement. If we follow the dating suggested by Peter Herrmann, it was then that the Milesians and the Heracleans established a treaty that, among other things, forbade either party to act contrary to their alliance with Rhodes. Rhodes also mediated a peace treaty between Miletus and Magnesia on the Maeander, and their allies. Several indications show that the Romans employed the slogan of Greek freedom against King Perseus, before finally defeating him in the battle at Pydna in 168. For example, Q. Marcius Philippus managed effectively to neutralize the Boeotian Federation in 172, because this Federation had concluded a treaty of alliance with Perseus. This situation is reminiscent of the one that followed the King’s Peace and its later reincarnations, all of which served to undermine military alliances in the name of freedom. Further evidence is provided by a letter from a Roman official to the Amphictyons at Delphi. This letter accused Perseus of depriving the Greeks of their freedom, which the Romans gave to them after defeating his father Philip V. The Romans, therefore, employed the slogan of freedom against Perseus just as they had allegedly used it against his father, even though they actually adopted it after their war against Philip V was over. The author of this letter has been tentatively identified as P. Licinius Crassus (cos. 171), who had proconsular command in Greece in 170. If Crassus was indeed the

37. Pace Wiemer, Traditionen, 136; Wiemer, Krieg, 250–251, 251–271. For Rhodian control over Lycia: Ralf Behrwald, Der Lykische Bund: Untersuchungen zu Geschichte und Verfassung (Bonn: Habelt, 2000), 84–88. The debate on the status of Lycia and Caria from 188 to 167: Ullrich, “De Polybii fontibus,” 56; H. H. Schmitt, Rom und Rhodos (Munich: Beck, 1957), 97–108; Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 81–83; Wiemer, Krieg, 277–288. 38. The Attalids: Polyb. 21.45.10; Liv. 38.39.15–16. Rhodes: Polyb. 21.45.8, 22.5.2–4; Liv. 37.56.5–6, 38.39.13. 39. Milet I 3, 150 (= Syll.3 633; c.185–184?) and 148 (= Syll.3 588; c.196 or after 185–184). 40. Polyb. 27.1.2, 8; 27.2.12; Liv. 42.12.6. See Heiland, “Untersuchungen,” 33; Meloni, Perseo, 145–150. 41. Syll.3 643 = Sherk, Documents, no. 40A (following H. Pomtow, following A. V. Nikitsky), with a new restoration by G. Colin (= Sherk, Documents, no. 40B).19–21 (171–170: Sherk). Delphi was one of three places, together with Thebes and Delos, where copies of Perseus’s treaty with the Boeotians were set up: Liv. 42.12.6. 42. This identification: Bousquet, “Persée,” 416. Crassus’s proconsulate: Liv. per. 43.

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author of this letter, he nicely combined his pathetic statements about freedom with his plundering of Greek cities and selling their population as slaves. The letter mentions the “oaths” of Perseus, with a clear reference to Rome’s treaty with Philip V, which was later confirmed (probably in a modified form) by his son Perseus after he ascended to the Macedonian throne. The slogan of freedom resurfaced soon after the beginning of the war between Perseus and the Romans, when the latter tried to appease the Greeks by restricting the arbitrariness of Roman commanders in Greece and by reminding the Greeks that “the Roman people had declared war on Perseus and previously Philip, his father, to preserve the freedom of Greece.” Perseus appears to have acted along the same lines. Having first negotiated with the Romans in the autumn of 172, Perseus is said to have sent letters to “various Greek states,” detailing what happened during those talks, as well as describing his stance and that of the Romans. The Rhodians supposedly occupied a special place in this diplomatic démarche by Perseus: according to Polybios, Perseus’s letter was brought by two envoys. They then spoke before the Rhodian council with the aim of persuading the Rhodians, in the words of Polybios, “should the Romans attack Perseus and the Macedonians in violation of the treaty, they asked them to attempt to effect a reconciliation. This they said was in the interests of all; but the Rhodians were the most proper people to undertake this task. For the more they were champions of equality and freedom of speech, and the constant champions not only of their own freedom but of that of the rest of Greece, the more they should do all in their power to provide and guard against the victory of the opposite stance (proairesis).” According to Perseus, therefore, in the words of his ambassadors as we know them from Polybios, such a mediation would be in the interest of all, and the Rhodians were the best choice for this task because they had long been champions of Greek freedom. The “interest of all” thus meant Greek freedom, and the Rhodians were urged to defend it, which was quite in line with the traditional Rhodian position. Livy’s description of the same episode provides a somewhat different

43. Liv. per. 43; and Liv. 43.4.5, 43.6.3, on the activities of Crassus as consul in Greece; Zonar. 9.22; Volkmann, Massenversklavungen2, 25, 100. 44. See Polyb. 25.3.1; Liv. 42.25.4 and 10–11, 42.30.10, 44.16.5. 45. Liv. 43.8.6: pro libertate Graeciae. 46. Polyb. 27.4.1, 5–7. 47. There can hardly be a question that Perseus was following Antigonos Doson and Philip V, not only in his attempt to rebuild a panhellenic alliance but also in his use of the Greek slogan of freedom; cf. Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans,” 756, on Perseus as appealling to “the masses” in the same way as his two royal predecessors.

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emphasis: in his words, Perseus urged the Rhodians to negotiate in case a war broke out between him and the Romans, because “this was in the interest both of all states and especially of the Rhodians, in proportion as they were outstanding among other states in position and resources (dignitate atque opibus excellant); these blessings would be enslaved and in bondage (quae serva atque obnoxia fore), if there were no recourse to anyone but the Romans.” Livy thus stressed the selfishness of the Rhodians. However, since, in the version by Polybios, Perseus’s ambassadors spoke about the interest of the Greeks (and about the Rhodian stance as champions of Greek freedom), and since the same message was sent to “various Greek states” by Perseus, there can hardly be a doubt that Perseus was accusing the Romans of taking the stance (proairesis) “opposite” to supporting the idea of Greek freedom. We also know that on the eve of the war, Perseus directly appealed to the Rhodians. He urged them to protect the freedom of the Greeks by mediating peace between him and Romans, should Rome start a war. Perseus either publicly displayed his concern for Greek freedom in order to counter Rome’s position (so that the two sides became engaged in a sort of propaganda warfare), or he used the slogan of Greek freedom in the traditional way, that is, as a tool to contain the enemy’s advance and maintain the political status quo in Greece, or he could have been guided by both considerations at the same time. Rhodes’s attempt to mediate in the Third Macedonian war (171–168) has traditionally been interpreted as resulting from the victory of the pro-Macedonian party. Interestingly, and probably in line with the subsequent Rhodian attitude toward this conflict (as we shall see below), the Rhodians initially tried to avert the war: an unnamed Rhodian ambassador joined Harpalos, the envoy of Perseus, before the senate in 172, to plead the innocence of the king in any anti-Roman activity. Once the war broke out, and eventually turned into a stalemate, Rhodes proceeded with further actions of diplomacy. In 169, the Rhodians sent two

48. Liv. 42.46.4. 49. E.g., N. D. Fustel de Coulanges, Questions historiques, revues et completées d’après les notes de l’auteur, ed. C. Jullian (Paris: Hachette, 1893), 174; B. Niese, Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten seit der Schlacht bei Chäronea (Gotha: Perthes, 1899), 3:157; F. Geyer, “Makedonia,” in RE 14.1 (1928): 762; F. Geyer, “Perseus,” in RE 19.1 (1937): 1019; F. Hiller von Gaertringen, “Rhodos,” in RE, suppl. 5 (1931): 796; B. Janzer, Historische Untersuchungen zu den Redenfragmenten des M. Porcius Cato: Beiträge zur Lebensgeschichte und Politik Catos (Würzburg and Ausmühle: Triltsch, 1937), 69–70; Meloni, Perseo, 346; Schmitt, Rom, 151; Colin, Rome, 456; Deininger, Widerstand, 190; Baronowski, “Livy,” 135; E. S. Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes in the Second Century b.c.: A Historiographical Inquiry,” CQ, n.s., 25 (1975): 58, 75; V. Gabrielsen, “Rhodes and Rome after the Third Macedonian War,” in Centre and Periphery in the Hellenistic World, ed. P. Bilde et al. (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1993), 135; L.-M. Günther, “Perseus [2],” in NPauly 9 (2000): 615. 50. App. Mac. 11.3; cf. Liv. 42.14.3–6.

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embassies to the Roman authorities. The first, composed of Hagesilochos and two other people, went to Rome. The second, which included Hagepolis and two other Rhodians, was sent to the Roman military leaders in Greece, namely, the consul Q. Marcius Philippus and the naval commander C. Marcius Figulus. Hagepolis and other ambassadors approached Quintus Marcius “according to their instructions.” After being treated kindly by him and even more so by Gaius Marcius, they returned to Rhodes and, in accordance with the request of Philippus, proceeded to mediate between Antiochos IV and Ptolemy VI Philometer, who were waging what has been known as the Sixth Syrian war. By referring to Polybios’s statement that Philippus requested the Rhodians to mediate in “the current war” (τὸν ἐνεστῶτα πόλεμον), some have suggested that Philippus had asked the ambassadors for Rhodian mediation in the war between Rome and Perseus. Others have questioned the historicity of this episode, thus reformulating the entire debate, whereas still others proposed (as a sort of compromise, perhaps) that Philippus urged the Rhodians to mediate in both wars. The only argument made for interpreting Polybios’s words as a Roman request for mediation in the war between Rome and Perseus is a passage from Appian’s Makedonika. However, although Appian indeed spoke about Philippus’s request for Rhodian mediation between Rome and Perseus, there is no basis for following those who think that he borrowed (either directly or by way of misinterpretation) this idea from Polybios. Appian’s account could be one of several (later, and not necessarily correct) versions of what was said during the negotiations between Philippus and the Rhodian ambassadors. In spite of numerous attempts to interpret Polybios’s text—either by suggesting explanations or emendations or by referring to Appian’s words—Polybios shows unambiguously that the Rhodians were asked to mediate in the Sixth Syrian war. The Rhodians should have been

51. Ambassadors: Polyb. 28.16.3–6, 28.17.1. Mediation: Polyb. 28.17.2–3, 4–5, 10. 52. Polyb. 28.17.4. Mommsen, Geschichte9, 1:776; U. Wilcken, “Agepolis,” in RE 1.1 (1893): 780; Gelder, Geschichte, 149; T. Frank, “The Diplomacy of Q. Marcius in 169 b.c.,” CP 5 (1910): 358–361; Geyer, “Perseus,” 1019; Colin, Rome, 432–433; Meloni, Perseo, 317–318; Deininger, Widerstand, 189–190; Walbank, Commentary, 3:350–351; Schmitt, Rom, 145; Briscoe, “Nova Sapientia,” 69–70; Baronowski, “Livy,” 134; Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 71–73; Petzold, “Freiheit,” 64–65; Errington, “Philhellenismus,” 152; Wiemer, Traditionen, 169; Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 69; P. J. Burton, “Clientela or Amicitia? Modeling Roman International Behavior in the Middle Republic (264–146 b.c.),” Klio 85 (2003): 362 (and n. 117 with further bibliography). 53. Eckstein, “War with Perseus,” 429–430. 54. Will, Histoire, 2:232–233, 250; Hammond, in HM, 3:530, 533. 55. App. Mac. 17. 56. Colin, Rome, 432; Schmitt, Rom, 145; Briscoe, “Nova Sapientia,” 69; Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 73–74.

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eager to offer this mediation because their well-being was at stake. In addition, the Rhodians would never refer to having been provoked by Philippus or any other Roman—whether with malicious intentions (i.e., as reflecting the Roman nova sapientia)or not—into mediating between Rome and Perseus, and thus suffering in the end because of Roman malice in general and Philippus’s alleged perfidy in particular. More recent scholarship has been less emotional but still inclined to see Philippus among those who proposed a war against Rhodes after Perseus had been done away with, often with reference to “party politics” in Rome in 167. However, neither Livy (who relied on Polybios here) nor other authors mentioning such proposals refer to Philippus. Livy tells the following: “[T]he chief enemies of the Rhodians were those who had been conducting the war in Macedonia as consuls, praetors, or staff-officers.” Party politics (if any) aside, Philippus had no reason to declare war on Rhodes; he greeted and parted with the Rhodian embassy in 169 in a very friendly way. Livy’s words were most probably connected with the Rhodian embassy to the camp of L. Aemilius Paullus, several days before the battle of Pydna. The words of Rhodian ambassadors greatly angered the Roman officers, who, as a result, could have pondered a military retaliation and put forward such proposals in Rome after Perseus had been defeated. These officers had a say in Roman politics, as revealed in Livy’s story that during his visit to Rome in the aftermath of Perseus’s defeat, Prusias II of Bithynia “was aided by the good will of all those who had been commanders in Macedonia (omnium, qui in Macedonia

57. Polyb. 28.17.14–15. For the dependence of Rhodes on grain imports, see n. 67 below. 58. For this concept, see pp. 155–156, nn. 64–73. 59. Cf. Nissen, Untersuchungen, 261; Colin, Rome, 431–434, 454–455; Meloni, Perseo, 318; Champion, Cultural Politics, 145. Polybios’s negative bias toward Philippus: Frank, “Diplomacy,” 359–361; Ager, “Rhodes,” 34; Calboli, “Introduzione,” 105, 107. 60. E.g., Briscoe, “Senatorial Politics,” 1119; P. S. Derow, “Perseus (2),” in OCD3, 1143; cf. Baronowski, “Livy,” 134: Philippus tried to set pro-Macedonian and pro-Roman factions on Rhodes against each other. For “party politics”: Briscoe, “Nova Sapientia,” 69–70, 74–75; Briscoe, “Senatorial Politics,” 1075–1076, 1120–1121; H. H. Scullard, Roman Politics: 220–150 b.c. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1951), 287. 61. For Polybios as Livy’s source here: e.g., Nissen, Untersuchungen, 275. See Polyb. 30.4.4; Diod. 31.5.3. 62. Liv. 45.25.2. 63. Reviews of Scullard’s Roman Politics: Hampl, Geschichte, 2:260–271, and A. Heuss, in HZ 182 (1956): 593–597. For further criticism of this theory, see also C. Simon, in Historia 37 (1988): 222–240; P. A. Brunt, “Clientela,” in P. A. Brunt, The Fall of the Roman Republic and Related Essays (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 385; M. Bonnefond-Coudry, Le Sénat de la république romaine de la guerre d’Hannibal à Auguste: Pratiques délibératives et prise de décision (Rome: École française de Rome, 1989), 605–617 (with p. 612 on nova sapientia); K.-J. Hölkeskamp, in International Journal of the Classical Tradition 8 (2001): 92–105; K.-J. Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman Republic. An Ancient Political Culture and Modern Research. Trans. H. Heitmann-Gordon (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2010), 38–39. 64. Liv. 44.35.4–8. So also Eckstein, “War with Perseus,” 432; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 232–233.

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imperatores fuerant, favore est adiutus). Consequently, all but one of his requests were granted.” Whatever aims and expectations the Romans and the Rhodians might have had for the Rhodian mediation in the Sixth Syrian war, the Rhodians were following the course set by the Romans, as they had been doing from the beginning of the Third Macedonian war, in spite of Perseus’s entreaties. The Rhodians also depended on the export of Egyptian grain. They became concerned with the decline of trade in grain from Egypt because of the Sixth Syrian war, and the Rhodian embassy to Rome (169) discussed the possibility of the Rhodians’ trading in grain from Sicily. Philippus’s reference to Rhodes as the best party to mediate reflected Rhodes’s interest in establishing peace between Egypt and Syria. More important, the way in which the Rhodians eventually attempted to mediate between Rome and Perseus makes it unlikely that they were fulfilling a request from the Romans. However, the kind treatment of the embassy and the Roman request for Rhodian mediation in the Sixth Syrian war could also have incited some of the Rhodian politicians to think of the Romans’ weakness. Elsewhere, the idea that the Romans needed peace with Perseus might have led Eumenes to enter into negotiations with Perseus. The pro-Macedonian party on Rhodes, headed by Deinon and Polyarates, became more vocal. Their agent, Metrodoros, declared to Perseus that the Rhodians “were ready for war.” Officially, however, the Rhodians again decided to send two embassies. This time, however, the first embassy, headed by Hagepolis, departed for Rome, whereas the second went to visit both Perseus and L. Aemilius Paullus, the new Roman general in Greece. Rhodes thus stepped in as the mediator in the conflict between Perseus and Rome. Polybios refers to the purpose of these embassies in very general terms, as working to bring the war to an end. Livy’s account is much different. He says that the Rhodian ambassadors to the senate, after arrogantly (superbe) reviewing the services of the Rhodian people to Rome, complained that the war that had been going on for three years had become impossible to bear any longer. They informed the senate that they had sent an embassy to Perseus as well, urging

65. Liv. 45.44.9–10. 66. Rhodian expectations: Polyb. 28.17.5–8. Rhodian pro-Roman course: Polyb. 27.4.8–9; Liv. 44.14.9. 67. Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 225–227, 692–693, 1250–1252; L. Casson, in TAPA 85 (1954): 171–174, 180–185; R. M. Berthold, Rhodes in the Hellenistic Age (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1984), 99–100. 68. Embassy: Polyb. 28.2.6, 28.16.8; Schmitt, Rom, 144. Philippus’s reference: Polyb. 28.17.4. 69. See Badian, Clientelae, 102–104. 70. Polyb. 28.17.14 and 29.11.2. Liv. 44.23.10: (Metrodoros) adfirmabat Rhodios paratos ad bellum esse, which has often been interpreted as a Rhodian pledge to help Perseus; e.g., Baronowski, “Livy,” 135.

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him to make peace with Rome, and declared that “if either party was responsible for preventing the ending of the war, the Rhodians would deliberate as to what action they ought to take against this party.” Livy’s describing the embassy that took place in 169 in this way creates a confusion, because the Rhodian embassy of 169 is known to have received “the kindest possible reception” and to have obtained the senate’s permission to export grain from Sicily. Livy’s description certainly concerned the embassy led by Hagepolis to Rome in 168. The irritation of the senators was mirrored by Aemilius Paullus and other Roman officers in Greece, who were visited by the other embassy, informing them of Rhodes’s desire to stop the war, even if this required forcing the belligerents into making peace. Neither the senate nor Aemilius Paullus could publicly denounce the Rhodian appeal for peace. Ultimately, they each reacted in the same way. In Livy’s version, the senate did not give any response to the ambassadors (they received it only after the battle of Pydna), whereas the consul announced that he would give his reply in two weeks’ time. After several days, Aemilius Paullus defeated Perseus near Pydna and thus eliminated the problem of having to respond to the ambassadors from Rhodes at all. Polybios speaks about only one meeting between the embassy of Hagepolis and the senate, which took place soon after the battle of Pydna was over. Polybios’s timing is not all that surprising because the other embassy, which had to travel a much shorter distance (even though visiting Perseus’s camp on the way), learned about the outcome of the battle within only a few days of meeting with Paullus. According to Polybios, when speaking before the senators, Hagepolis and other Rhodian envoys said that they had come to bring the war to an end (διαλύσοντες τὸν πόλεμον), acting according to the decision of the Rhodian people, because the war had been unprofitable to all Greeks (πᾶσιν μὲν τοˆι ς Ἕλλησιν ἀλυσιτελής), as well as to the Romans themselves, due to high expenditures. Now that the war was over, the ambassadors congratulated the Romans on their victory and retired soon afterward. The senate made a reply that Livy and Polybios summed up in the

71. Polyb. 29.10.1–5; Liv. 44.14.8–12. 72. Polyb. 28.15.9, 28.2.5. 73. As Nissen, Untersuchungen, 261; Eckstein, “War with Perseus,” 426; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 226, 229; Baronowski, “Livy,” 135. 74. Liv. 44.14.13, 44.35.4–8. 75. Paullus’s response: Liv. 44.35.6. The date of the battle (21 or 22 June 168): Niese, Geschichte, 3:161 n. 4; Pédech, La méthode, 453 n. 126; cf. P. Marchetti, in BCH 100 (1976): 402–426, and Warrior, “Livy, Book 42,” 26–39. The usual argument in favor of this date is Livy’s reference (44.37.8; see also Lyd. De ost. 9) to the lunar eclipse on the eve of the battle. 76. Polyb. 29.19.3–5.

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same terms (Livy most probably followed Polybios here because this is the first time that Livy mentioned Hagepolis by name, whereas Polybios had mentioned Hagepolis’s name in his accounts of both the embassy of 169 and that of 168): the senate accused the Rhodians of duplicity because they had not intervened on behalf of peace until after Perseus had been surrounded and had no escape. Polybios’s version has generally been accepted as true, while Livy’s has been rejected as a fabrication by the so-called annalistic tradition, which, according to some, was intended to justify the Romans’ subsequent harsh treatment of the Rhodians. Livy also says that after the battle of Pydna, the senate summoned the ambassadors, who had not yet been dismissed following the announcement of victory, as if “mocking their foolish arrogance.” His words imply that the embassy of Hagepolis had already delivered its message to the senate or, at least, had made the content of its message public before Perseus was defeated. Neither of Livy’s two claims is historically correct. As we have seen above, the embassy sent by Rhodes to Rome in 169 was well received and achieved its purpose, while that of 168 spoke before the senate only after the defeat of Perseus. Livy, of course, offered only a Roman version of the events, which is quite different from what we encounter in the text of Polybios. The Rhodian envoys made no secret of the purpose of their mission, and the senate did not have to give the Rhodians a formal audience in order to learn their intentions, so that there exists no valid grounds to think that the Rhodian ambassadors “seem to have already discussed peace negotiations at an earlier audience with the senate.” And it is hard to explain the “arrogance” of Hagepolis, who had always been on good terms with the Romans. However, following the “annalistic tradition,” Livy prefers to speak of the arrogance of the ambassadors. This theme, as well as that of the Rhodian inclination toward Perseus during the war, would be used to justify Romans’ harsh treatment of Rhodes later.

77. Polyb. 29.19.5–11 (see 30.4.1); Liv. 45.3.6–8. 78. Gelder, Geschichte, 151–152; Colin, Rome, 454; Schmitt, Rom, 150; Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 59–60; Tränkle, Livius, 65–66; Deininger, Widerstand, 191; Berthold, Rhodes, 192; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 226. 79. Schmitt, Rom, 214; Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 76 n. 6; Hammond, HM, 3:530; Ager, “Rhodes,” 33; Ager, “Roman Perspectives,” 36; Calboli, “Introduzione,” 113. 80. Liv. 45.3.3. 81. See also Deininger, Widerstand, 191; Eckstein, “War with Perseus,” 431. 82. E.g., Eckstein, “War with Perseus,” 431. 83. Baronowski, “Livy,” 135. 84. Ullrich, “De Polybii fontibus,” 59; Nissen, Untersuchungen, 261, 273; A. Klotz, Livius und Seine Vorgänger (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1940), 95–96. 85. Cf. the “arrogant demeanor” of Harpalos, the envoy of Perseus to the senate in 172; Liv. 42.14.3. Harpalos was joined by the leading man of the Rhodian embassy, who was also accused of “insolence”: Liv. 42.14.6.

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We can surmise the purpose of the Rhodian ambassadors in 168 from bits of information scattered in different texts. There can be little doubt that both embassies, that is, the one that was dispatched to Rome and the one that visited the Macedonian and Roman armies in Greece, carried the same message. They proposed to establish peace between Rome and Perseus, claiming to act on behalf, and in the interest, of all the Greeks, that is, in a similar fashion to the Rhodians’ previous behavior, during the deliberations in Rome in 188–187. After Pydna, the Romans responded to the Rhodians in a similar fashion, asking them why Rhodes did not interfere sooner, when Perseus “for two years was besieging some Greek cities and alarming others with the threat of attack.” The “annalistic version” also insists that the Rhodians requested the withdrawal of Roman forces from Macedonia. All of this put together—as well as the fact that, unlike in 169, the other Rhodian embassy was sent not only to Roman commanders in Greece but also to Perseus—allows us to suggest that the Rhodians came to Rome claiming to protect Greek freedom and autonomy in the conflict between Rome and Perseus. It is in connection with this stance that the Rhodians declared that they would go against any party that did not want to establish peace: Livy’s evidence about the words from Metrodoros to Perseus is paralleled by that of Polybios, whose text has been acknowledged as Livy’s source for this episode. There is no reason to consider that the Rhodians dispatched two embassies in 168 as a result of the victory of the pro-Macedonian, or anti-Roman for that matter, faction on Rhodes. Nor is there any reason to discard Polybios’s information. The Rhodians’ claim that they wished to mediate the conflict on behalf of Greek freedom should be connected with Perseus’s embassy to Rhodes on the eve of the Third Macedonian war. Perseus urged the Rhodians to make every effort in mediating peace if the Romans started hostilities against the Macedonians. As we have seen above, the difference between this and the Roman version of the appeal by Perseus to Rhodes is subtle but significant. Livy says that the

86. Polyb. 29.19.7; Diod. 30.24.1; Liv. 45.3.4, 6. 87. Liv. 45.3.7. 88. Liv. 44.15.3–8. 89. Liv. 44.23.10 (see n. 70 above); Polyb. 29.4.7: ἔπεισε δὲ (sc. ὁ Περσεύς) καὶ τοὺς Ῥοδίους συμβαίνειν εἰς τὸν πόλεμον. Nissen, Untersuchungen, 271; Calboli, “Introduzione,” 110. 90. As Meloni, Perseo, 346; Deininger, Widerstand, 190; Baronowski, “Livy,” 135; cf. Wiemer, Krieg, 310–311. 91. E.g., Nissen, Untersuchungen, 16: the “Gedankenlosigkeit der Schreiber”; Schmitt, Rom, 148 n. 2: Polyb. 29.4.7 “natürlich eine unzutreffende Bemerkung des Exzerptors”; Walbank, Commentary, 3:365: “a hastily abbreviated version of a passage represented by Livy, 44.23.10,” even though Polybios’s text has already been acknowledged as Livy’s source for this information: Nissen, Untersuchungen, 264. 92. Polyb. 27.4.5; Liv. 42.46.3.

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ambassadors from Perseus declared that the Rhodians “must act to prevent authority and power over everything coming into the hands of single people. This was to the interest both of all states and especially of the Rhodians (cum ceterorum id interesse, tum praecipue Rhodiorum), in proportion as they were outstanding among other states in position and resources; these blessings would be enslaved and in bondage, if there were no recourse to anyone but the Romans.” Although Livy also says that Rhodian mediation was expected to benefit all Greeks, accents are placed differently in his account. Livy presents Perseus’s appeal as aiming not at the protection of Greek freedom but against Rome becoming the only dominant power in Greece. Perseus would supposedly use this argument in seeking support from Antiochos IV and Eumenes II after the war had begun. There is no way, however, that he could come out publicly with this idea before the war. Whatever Perseus had on his mind prior to his conflict with the Romans, he was too cautious to make such statements at that time. We know, for example, that when the cities of Coronea and Haliartus asked him for garrisons in order to shield themselves against Thebes (which, if Perseus consented, meant a breach of his treaty with the Romans), he advised them to “protect themselves as best they might against the injustice of the Thebans in such a way as not to offer the Romans an excuse for harshness against them.” Livy also puts the emphasis on Rhodes’s attention to her own freedom, well-being, and special position in Greece, thus downplaying Rhodian concerns for Greek freedom. A similar attitude toward Rhodes’s position in the war would be expressed by Cato, who would later explain the actions of the Rhodians by their desire to avoid the domination of one power and their concern for protecting the freedom of Rhodes. Because such evidence comes to us from both Cato and Livy, this was likely the prevailing Roman explanation of the event. Perseus came up with the idea of protecting Greek freedom not only to please the Rhodians but also to remind the Greeks that he was mindful of their freedom. In the words of Polybios, “all Greeks” had their hopes on Perseus from the beginning of his reign, which reflected his policy of courting Greek public opinion. A speech by Eumenes II before the senate, on the eve of the Third Macedonian war, emphasized the joy many Greeks felt at the marriage between Perseus and Laodike, the daughter of Seleucos IV, and between Perseus’s sister and Prusias

93. Liv. 42.46.4 (see also n. 48 above). 94. Polyb. 29.4.9–10; Liv. 44.24.6. See also n. 122 below. 95. Liv. 42.46.9–10. But Nissen, Untersuchungen, 252, 256, spoke of Polybios as the source for Liv. 42.46. 96. Cato fr. 164 = Gell. 6.3.16. 97. E.g., Polyb. 25.3.1 and 27.9–10 = Liv. 42.63.1–2.

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of Bithynia. The unity of the rulers was fundamental to peace and, therefore, to the freedom of the Greeks. No wonder it was the Rhodians who transported Laodike to her royal groom. Logically, this panhellenic policy would have included the use of the Greek slogan of freedom, as probably was the case in Perseus’s negotiations with the Achaean League during the generalship of Xenarchos (175–174). Because no Macedonians were allowed into the Peloponnese, Perseus had to send a letter instead of an embassy. Perseus’s short letter to the Achaean League dealt with the problem of runaway slaves. However, behind this simple matter there was a question of a rapprochement between Perseus and the League. The opposite views were presented by Callicrates and Archon, brother of Xenarchos. As we read in Livy, the first of them spoke of Perseus’s letter as a way to establish an alliance with the Achaeans, which would break down their treaty with the Romans, which some modern commentators have accepted as true. How could Perseus’s alliance with the Achaeans break down the treaty between the latter and Rome? The only possible explanation is that the Roman war against Macedonia was inevitable. This is what we see in the speech by Callicrates, as provided by Livy, which reflected the version supported by Roman historiography. This interpretation, which certainly was the result of later reflection, has led some to believe that the idea of a war against Perseus had already formed in the minds of Roman politicians in 173. In particular, W. Lindsay Adams referred to “the tenor of the new age of politics and the generation which was coming to power,” that is, using another phrase for nova sapientia. But Roman historiography also provides us with a different version about the beginning of the Third Macedonian war, which presented the above-mentioned speech of Eumenes before the senators in 172 as the catalyst of the war. This version, too, has been supported by modern authors. Livy then indirectly confirms the latter version when he says that Archon rejected the thought of an imminent war between Rome and Perseus, declaring that “the Romans were not to be offended if the Achaeans, who followed

98. Liv. 42.12.4. Perseus’s marriage: Polyb. 25.4.8–10; App. Mac. 11.2. 99. The date: Deininger, Widerstand, 143–144. 100. Liv. 41.23.1–2, 6. 101. Liv. 41.23.3, 41.24.16 and 19. 102. Liv. 41.23.9; H. Nottmeyer, Polybios und das Ende des Achaierbundes (Munich: Editio Maris, 1995), 55, 58. 103. Liv. 41.23.9: bellandum Romanis cum Perseo esse. Cf. Liv. 39.23.5, 39.29.3. 104. W. Lindsay Adams, “Perseus and the Third Macedonian War,” in Philip II, Alexander the Great and the Macedonian Heritage, 249. See also A. Giovannini, “Les origines de la 3e guerre de Macédoine,” BCH 93 (1969): 858–859; Nottmeyer, Polybios, 55–56; Calboli, “Introduzione,” 102–103. 105. Cary, History2, 200; E. Bikerman, in RÉG 66 (1953): 492–499; Heiland, “Untersuchungen,” 19, 29, 31–32; Albert, Bellum, 121; Nottmeyer, Polybios, 55–56; Kahrstedt, “Ausbruche,” 427; Rich, War, 23 n. 14.

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them in waging war, would now follow them likewise as authors of peace (pacis auctores).” Like the Rhodians, (at least some of) the Achaeans advanced the idea of Greek peace and freedom. Therefore, here, too, it makes sense to suggest that Perseus should have come up with the idea of the Greeks themselves protecting their peace and freedom. Much like the Rhodians, many of the Achaeans happened to be receptive to this idea: the speech by Archon was met with much enthusiasm, and the leadership of the Achaean League hardly managed to get the matter dropped. This information also undermines the idea that Perseus addressed his bid to the Achaeans’ upper class—Livy unambiguously says that the commoners shared an anti-Roman sentiment and were inclined toward Perseus, just as they had supported Philip and Antiochos, whereas Polybios is clear on popular support for Perseus in Boeotia, which was reminiscent of the discontent of the Boeotians because of the murder of Brachylles. It is probably not surprising that Perseus succeeded in establishing a treaty only with the Boeotians. Because this treaty created a potentially dangerous situation for the Romans, they neutralized the Boeotian Federation (in the autumn of 172) by making its cities establish their relations with Rome on an individual basis. The Romans likely acted as if they were defending Boeotian cities against the oppression of Thebes: Rome had been approached by such individual cities as Coronea, Haliartus, and (possibly) Thisbe. However, although the Romans broke down the military strength of the Boeotian Federation, some cities—including Coronea and Haliartus—are said then to have contacted Perseus, and even to have been eager to espouse the Macedonian cause, provided he gave them military support against Thebes. The Roman demolition of the Boeotian Federation, therefore, neither brought, nor intended to bring forth, peace and freedom for the Boeotian cities.

106. Liv. 41.24.7. 107. Liv. 41.24.19–20, 42.12.6. 108. E. S. Gruen, “Class Conflict and the Third Macedonian War,” AJAH 1 (1976): 34. 109. Liv. 42.5.1–2, 42.30.1. Philip: Liv. 34.32.8; Antiochos: Liv. 35.34.3, 37.9.1–4; see Geyer, “Perseus,” 1006–1007; J. Briscoe, “Rome and the Class Struggle in the Greek States 200–146 b.c.,” PP 36 (1967): 6; A. Bastini, Der achäische Bund als hellenische Mittelmacht: Geschichte des achäischen Koinon in der Symmachie mit Rom (Frankfurt am Main and New York: Lang, 1987), 130–134; Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans,” 756 (see n. 47 above). 110. Polyb. 27.2.10; cf. 18.43.8–9. 111. Polyb. 27.1.8; Liv. 42.12.5–6. 112. Polyb. 27.2.4–10. Wallbank, Commentary, 3:290–292; Briscoe, “Nova Sapientia,” 68; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 513–514; Reiter, Paullus, 82–83: on differences between Polybios’s and Livy’s descriptions of this event. 113. Liv. 42.46.7. 114. Polyb. 27.5.4–8; Liv. 42.46.9–10 (see n. 95 above), who, however, presented this as Perseus’s initiative.

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As we have seen, by referring to the provisions of his treaty with the Romans, Perseus also denied these cities any help. On the one hand, therefore, Boeotian cities were mainly trying to secure their own independence of Thebes by appealing to both Rome and Macedonia, and, probably, by playing on conflicts between them. On the other hand, neither Rome nor Macedonia was interested in the status of these cities as such: each party used “freedom” only as a political slogan to promote its own interests. The diplomatic activity that Perseus undertook before, and most probably in anticipation of, his war against Rome was based on the old ideas of panhellenic unity and Greek freedom. Although Perseus’s efforts to establish relations with various political powers in Greece were, undoubtedly, a concerted policy, the surviving relevant evidence consists of only a few disparate references. Polybios, reflecting on the aftermath of the Third Macedonian war, said the following: “But in Rhodes, in Cos, and in several other cities there were some who shared the ideas of Perseus, and those who dared to speak in their communities about Macedonian affairs and criticize those of the Romans and to recommend joint actions with Perseus, but who were not able to make their communities join in alliance with Perseus.” Polybios’s statement could have referred to different political factions. However, he particularly mentioned the brothers Hippocritus and Diomedon in Cos, and Deinon and Polyarates in Rhodes. He then proceeded to show how their correspondence with Perseus was maintained until it was intercepted, and how they were punished as a result. This reference might create an impression that such relations were formed during the war, and that these people were pressing their communities to make military alliances with Perseus, thus acting against Rome. However, first of all, evidence shows that Perseus had established such contacts with Rhodes and Achaea prior to the war and, if we can rely on the above-quoted excerpts from Polybios, the same can be suggested for Cos and “several other cities.” Because Perseus’s correspondence with Greek communities started before his war against Rome began, this exchange of letters and embassies could hardly have been openly anti-Roman. Judging by what we know about Perseus’s antebellum dealings with Rhodes and Achaea, he promoted the Greek slogan of freedom. While

115. Liv. 42.46.9–10 (see n. 95 above). 116. Cf. Liv. 42.63.3–11: Haliartus, supported by the people of Coronea, offered resistance to the Romans. 117. Polyb. 30.7.9–10 and 30.8–9. Hippocritus and Diomedon: Chr. Habicht, in Studii clasice 24 (1986): 91–92 = Chr. Habicht, The Hellenistic Monarchies: Selected Papers (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2006), 148–153. 118. Cf. Deininger, Widerstand, 205: “[the] correspondence between Perseus and anti-Roman politicians on Rhodes.”

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this certainly went against Roman interests in Greece, such activities cannot be considered anti-Roman. After the hostilities between Perseus and Rome broke out, this correspondence likely continued along the same lines. Second, these observations cast a new light on Polybios’s words that the captured emissaries from both sides—that is, Perseus and the Greek cities—“refused to yield and to give away but continued to argue.” What was the point of “arguing”? They could hardly argue directly against the Romans or for Perseus, especially after Perseus had been defeated. Nor were they ever accused of saying or doing anything overtly anti-Roman. Because they had nothing to repent, they were defending their ideas rather than their actions. The slogan of freedom, which protected the interests of the Greeks and had nothing per se against the Romans, was what was most likely on their minds. Finally, Polybios’s statement that such people “recommended joint actions with Perseus” does not necessarily imply their desire for a military alliance with the Macedonian king, even though there were probably those among the Greeks who suggested supporting Perseus militarily. One can hardly doubt that by attempting to make the Rhodians agree to mediate peace should a war break out, Perseus tried to engage them in some sort of a common action against the Romans. The Rhodians appear to have been conscious of Perseus’s intentions, however: their response to Perseus’s ambassadors begged the king not to request that Rhodes do anything that would “go against the wishes of the Romans.” According to Polybios, therefore, the expectations of the ambassadors were not fulfilled. This is clearly reminiscent of the negotiations between Perseus and the Achaean League, as we have seen above. In Livy’s version, the people of Rhodes voted that “if there were war, the king must not expect or ask anything of the Rhodians which would destroy the ancient friendship between them and the Romans.” After the war started, Perseus appealed to Eumenes II and Antiochos IV, urging them either to mediate peace or to “help” him, that is, in a similar fashion to how he had approached the Rhodians on the eve of the war. Both then and now, Perseus was probably advocating the idea of Greek freedom, which was an effective tool of

119. Polyb. 30.8.2: οὐχ οἷοι’ τ’ ἦσαν εἴκειν οὐδ’ ἐκποδὼν ποιεˆι ν ἑαυτούς, ἀλλ’ ἀκμὴν ἠμφισβήτουν. 120. The word koinopragia, which Polybios used, certainly implied a “common action,” but it did not mean any binding agreement, such as a treaty; cf. Polyb. 5.107.5; Petzold, Eröffnung, 18–19. 121. Polyb. 29.4.9–10; Liv. 42.46.6. An overview of the debate on when Rome and Rhodes established friendship: Burton, “Clientela or Amicitia?” 357 (with n. 108). 122. Polyb. 29.4.9 (see n. 94 above), 10; Liv. 44.24.6. Cf. Günther, “Perseus [2],” 615: Perseus’s “Appellen an monarchischen Solidarität.” 123. For the Attalids as the champions of Greek freedom: Polyb. 18.41.9 (the post-mortem laudation of Attalos I).

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diplomacy: none of the major political powers in Greece could have presented itself as ignoring the slogan of freedom. As the war dragged on, the Rhodians, finally, risked assuming their traditional stance as champions of the freedom and autonomy of the Greeks, even if this required the use of force. On the one hand, formally, Perseus was in the right: he had adhered to the peace and in the case of a war he would be a wronged party. Therefore, if a war broke out and the Rhodians were to restore peace, they were destined to face the Romans. It is possible that Perseus had planned that Rhodian interference in his conflict with Rome would be to his advantage, which is very much how it was later presented by the Romans. The Rhodian readiness for “war,” about which Metrodoros, on behalf of Deinon and Polyarates, allegedly spoke to Perseus, was likely connected with the above-mentioned negotiations between Perseus and Rhodes on the eve of the war. In the end, when the Rhodians finally decided to mediate peace between Perseus and Rome, their decision corresponded completely to the wishes of Perseus, which he had expressed before the war. Hence, Polybios’s phrase that Perseus had finally “convinced” the Rhodians probably meant that the Rhodians were now doing what Perseus had been asking them to, that is, the Rhodians stepped in to defend the interests of the Greeks. There neither was nor could have been any talk of Rhodian military support for Perseus. On the other hand, the Rhodians did not come out with the slogan of Greek freedom to protect Perseus. Nor were they intervening simply to defend Greek “freedom” and “autonomy.” The immediate motive of the Rhodians was most likely the deteriorating financial and economic position of their island. Some have already noted perceptively that Hagepolis, who led the Rhodian embassy to the Roman commanders in Greece in 169 and received a very kind reception from them, was the same person who headed the unfortunate Rhodian embassy to Rome in 168. Such evidence has been interpreted as supporting the “notion that divergent opinions in Rhodes were not so sharp as our tradition maintains . . . it entailed no evident break with previous policy—Rhodes had never been ardent for the war. Nor was there any incongruity in the fact that men like Hagepolis and Hagesilochos could express support for Rome and also serve as intermediaries for peace. The Rhodian mission of 168 does not represent the triumph of anti-Romanism.” The latter idea is certainly true: political affiliations

124. Liv. 44.23.10 (see n. 70 above). 125. Polyb. 29.4.7 (see n. 89 above). 126. Cf. Wiemer, Krieg, 317. 127. For 169: Polyb. 28.16.6–7, 17.1–2. For 168: Polyb. 29.19.1–3, Liv. 45.3.4. 128. Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 76, followed by Gabrielsen, “Rhodes,” 135.

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can hardly be established simply with reference to serving on embassies, and we do not have to believe that the Rhodian embassy of 169 to Roman commanders in Greece, that is, the one led by Hagepolis, was controlled by the pro-Macedonian party, precisely because it was also Hagepolis who led the disastrous Rhodian embassy to Rome in 168. This interpretation does not explain everything, however. There was indeed a strong division between the pro-Roman and pro-Macedonian parties on Rhodes, for which we have enough information from Polybios, who tells us about a failed attempt of the pro-Perseus party to pull people over to the side of the king and about a death penalty inflicted on those who had supported Perseus, after the Roman victory. If the embassy of 168 was not a display of “anti-Romanism,” why did Polybios refer to the Rhodian attempt at mediation as a “mistake” (agnoia)? Why, then, did the Rhodian ambassador Astymedes, in his speech in Rome in 165 or 164, speak of the “mistake” (agnoia) and “foolishness” (alogia) of his compatriots during the Third Macedonian war? He was referring to the embassy of 168, because the relations between Rome and Rhodes were quite friendly in 169. Some have proposed that in such cases Polybios was relying on Rhodian, or pro-Rhodian, sources. What we see in his text, therefore, is one way in which the Rhodians explained their stance in the war. However, “foolishness” and “mistake” would hardly be appropriate words to describe the Rhodians’ support for Perseus, even if we drop accusations that Rhodians being ready to join Perseus were invented by the “annalistic tradition.” Nor could this “mistake” be arrogance in the language and behavior of the ambassadors, as distortions in Livy’s text demonstrate. The only “foolish mistake” of the Rhodians was their attempt to mediate between Perseus and Rome: not because it was badly timed (in this case the attempt as such would not have been a “mistake”) but because the Rhodians

129. As Baronowski, “Livy,” 134. Cf. Schmitt, Rom, 139–140, who did not mention Hagepolis when pondering the composition of the pro-Roman and pro-Macedonian parties on Rhodes. 130. As Deininger, Widerstand, 184–191, 204–208; Briscoe, “Nova Sapientia,” 69; Wiemer, Krieg, 307–308: on the “polarization” of Rhodian politics in the time of the war; Calboli, “Introduzione,” 100–101. 131. Polyb. 27.7.11 and 13; Polyb. 30.31.14, 20; cf. Liv. 45.10.12–15. 132. Polyb. 29.19.1–2 and 30.31.9, 14, respectively. 133. E.g., Nissen, Untersuchungen, 275–276; Gruen, “Rom and Rhodes,” 60–61; Wiemer, Traditionen, 187–188. 134. Cf. Polyb. 29.19.2 and Liv. 45.3.3 (see n. 80 above). A different version of these events has been provided by Livy, who (45.25.4–6), probably following Cato, put the liberation of Caria and Lycia after the embassy of Philocrates but before the Rhodian vote of a golden crown to Rome. 135. E.g., Cary, History2, 214; Schmitt, Rom, 149; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 566; Sherwin-White, Foreign Policy, 31; Eckstein, “War with Perseus,” 431, 433, 443; Ager, “Rhodes,” 10; Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” 254; Errington, Hellenistic World, 260. Pace, rightly, Wiemer, Krieg, 324.

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placed Rome on equal footing with Perseus, and themselves above both of them. The fact that the same Rhodian embassy in 168 was sent to visit both Perseus’s military camp and that of the Romans shows that Rhodes was equally unsympathetic to both parties. It comes as no surprise that the decision by the Rhodians to mediate peace—and even to use force if so required for the protection of peace and the freedom of the Greeks—was easily presented by Livy as resulting from an anti-Roman stance by Rhodes (which had allegedly revealed itself even before the war) and was accepted as such by some modern authors. A later summary of Livy’s book went even further and ascribed to the Rhodians the intention to support Perseus militarily if the Romans did not make peace and friendship with him. It is obvious, however, that the Rhodian ambassadors did not say this: the senate never accused the Rhodians of having an intention to join Perseus, and Astymedes spoke of the Rhodians’ neutrality, as did Cato, who, however, “charged the Rhodians with having wished to make war on the Roman people.” Cato’s words show that the Rhodians might have indeed contemplated the use of force against the Roman army in Greece. However, the Rhodian threat of military force was addressed to anyone who opposed ending the war and establishing peace in Greece, not only the Romans. The Rhodians, therefore, were primarily defending Greek freedom. They had no desire to fight against Rome as such. No evidence exists that the Rhodians were going to join Perseus either; nor does Cato speak about this. Therefore, the version of the “annalistic tradition” tells us only part of the story. By the 160s, the senators could hardly have misunderstood either Greek diplomatic practices or the intentions of the Rhodians. But this made little difference—the official Roman interpretation was that the Rhodians threatened not only to break away from the Roman course in the war but even to use force against the Roman army.

136. Cf. Badian, Clientelae, 100–101: “for the client had no business to offer arbitration to the patron, who had come to expect nothing but unquestioning support”; Wiemer, Krieg, 316, 324–325. But as “friends” without a treaty with Rome, the Rhodians were not supposed to have any obligations to Rome, much less to think of themselves as her clients. Nor does this interpretation alone explain why they found it possible to impose conditions on the belligerents. See also Ager, “Roman Perspectives,” 15–43, who explained Rome’s averse attitude toward a third-party meditation (and, thus, a harsh Roman punishment of Rhodes in the 160s) by the Roman approach to declaring and conducting a “just war.” 137. Liv. 42.26.8, 44.23.10 (see n. 70 above); e.g., Colin, Rome, 456. 138. Liv. 44.14.12 (see n. 71 above) and Liv. per. 44. Cf. Gell. 6.3.3. 139. Cato fr. 164 (= Gell. 6.3.16) and fr. 166 (= Gell. 6.3.35–36); Liv. 45.22.4, 45.23.6, 45.24.1. 140. Liv. 44.14.8–12 (see n. 71 above). 141. E.g., Cato fr. 164 = Gell. 6.3.16. Pace Meloni, Perseo, 154; Baronowski, “Livy,” 85–86; Wiemer, Krieg, 313.

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Arrogance (superbia) was thus the first of the charges against the Rhodians in the senate. Having reminded the Romans that Rhodes never publicly aided Perseus during the war, Cato summed up this situation in one (rhetorical, as it appeared) question: “Are you to be angry simply because someone is more arrogant than we are?” This phrase by Cato meant that intentions were not to be punished before they were turned into actions,—another indication that the Rhodians had, in fact, contemplated, or tried to influence the Romans with, the prospect of using military force. We have seen, however, that as champions of Greek freedom, the Rhodians remained impartial to both parties in the conflict. Although this was not to the Romans’ liking, this Rhodian stance alone was not enough to justify punishing Rhodes. The subsequent Rhodian shock at their treatment by Rome proves Rhodian neutrality in the war, as do the words of Cato, even though some still believe that Rhodes was punished because of her strife for more independence. Rhodian neutrality was not by itself an offense against the Romans: their attitude toward Rhodes remained friendly after the Rhodian embassy of 169, even though Rhodes had made her neutrality apparent at that time as well. The Rhodian ambassador Astymedes had every reason to wonder in 165 (or 164) what it was that the Rhodians needed to clear themselves of in order to be pardoned by the Romans. Certainly, neither Astymedes nor Cato said anything about the arrogant behavior and language of previous Rhodian ambassadors: first, because the arrogance of the Rhodian ambassadors would emerge only retrospectively in Roman interpretation and, second, because these ambassadors appeared before the senate only after the defeat of Perseus at Pydna. Thus the situation changed after the Rhodians declared that, in the words of the Roman Livy, “if either party was responsible for preventing the ending of the war, the Rhodians would deliberate as to what action they ought to take against this party.” However, even if we believe Livy, this declaration only reflected the traditional stance of the Rhodians as champions of Greek freedom, which they chose to

142. Gell. 6.3.48. 143. Cato. fr. 169 = Gell. 6.3.50. 144. Gell. 6.3.47. 145. Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 78–81; H. Sonnabend, “Rhodes,” in NPauly 10 (2001): 998. 146. Liv. 45.24.1 (quid igitur superat, quod purgamus?). 147. See Liv. 44.15.1–2 with reference to Claudius. The attitude of the “annalistic tradition” toward Rhodes and the interrelationship between Rhodes and Rome in the Third Macedonian war: Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes,” 59–60. 148. Liv. 44.14.8–12 (see n. 71 above).

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assume in 168, in the same fashion as they had on many earlier occasions. Anyone who ventured to step up in defense of Greek freedom was expected to make this statement, including the Successors, the Hellenistic kings, or even the Romans when they faced Antiochos. It follows, then, that the Roman confirmation of the freedom of Caria and Lycia was not just a punishment to Rhodes, but an elaborate diplomatic retaliation: Rome paid Rhodes with the same coin. The stance of the Rhodians as the champions of Greek freedom explains why Polybios is so charmingly vague about what exactly the next Rhodian embassy (165 or 164) to Rome (consisting of Philocrates, Philophron, and Astymedes) apologized for. The speech of Astymedes, in which he referred to the Rhodian “fault” (hamartia), “foolishness” (alogia), and “mistake” (agnoia), has recently been rejected as unlikely. It is worth quoting a portion of an earlier speech by Astymedes in Rome, from 167, as preserved by Livy: “We sent envoys at the same time both to you and to Perseus on the subject of peace. This unhappy plan, through a madman, as we heard later, who was spokesman, became something extremely foolish (quod infelix consilium furiosus, ut postea audivimus, orator stultissimum fecit). . . . But nevertheless this error, whether it should be called arrogance or folly (ea sive superbia sive stultitia appellanda est), was no different before you (apud vos) from what it was before Perseus.” In either speech, both “arrogance” (or “fault”) and “foolishness” (or “mistake”) refer to the Rhodian mediation between Rome and Perseus. Although the speeches of Astymedes were three years apart, the second reiterated essentially the same idea as the first, balancing between the Roman and Rhodian interpretations of what had happened. On the one hand, the Rhodian version obviously emphasized

149. Ager’s analysis (“Rhodes,” 10–41) of the Rhodian mediation in the Third Macedonian war passes over this and several other important details. This is not only because their investigation was not among her declared objectives (p. 10) but also because, it seems, while she rightly examined this mediation within a broader framework of Rhodes’s diplomatic activities and the established reputation of Rhodes as an international arbitrator, she only casually raised the question of the Rhodian defense of Greek freedom (e.g., p. 13; note the absence of any discussion of the speech of Thrasicrates; see p. 148, n. 23). It would have been impossible, however, to explain the sort of evidence that we have in Liv. 44.23.10 and Liv. 44.14.12 (see nn. 70 and 71 above) without discussing the history of the Greek slogan of freedom. 150. E.g., Wiemer, Krieg, 322. 151. Polyb. 25.5.3: the Lycians as fighting for their “autonomy and freedom” against Rhodes. 152. Polyb. 30.4.1–30.5.16. 153. Polyb. 30.31.3, 13 and 30.31.9 and 14 (see n. 132 above). Gabrielsen, “Rhodes,” 141: “could Astymedes actually have admitted as a fact the Rhodians’ offence (hamartia: 30.31.3, 13; cf. also agnoia: 30.31.9) against Rome and stated (30.31.14) that the few perpetrators of this folly (alogia) had been executed at Rhodes?” 154. Liv. 45.23.11–13.

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that Rhodes had treated Perseus and Rome in the same way, which demonstrated the impartiality of the Rhodians, who were eager to protect the freedom of the Greeks against anybody. On the other hand, the Romans put a stress on the military challenge posed by Rhodes to Rome. The debate, therefore, was being conducted from two different perspectives. “Arrogance” (superbia) was a matter of concern for the Romans: it is not surprising that Polybios refers to a Rhodian “mistake,” while Livy—either providing a Roman interpretation of the text of Polybios or using a source based on the “annalistic tradition”—speaks of Rhodian “arrogance.” The idea that the Rhodians were punished by Rome because they tried— at least according to their officially declared stance—to protect the peace and freedom of the Greeks was hard to convey to Greek readers. This might also explain why the senate appeared reluctant to start a war against Rhodes: an attempt by some Roman politicians to bypass the senate on this matter indicates that the senators did not support the idea of the war, and that Cato’s speech was not as decisive in averting the war as presented by some modern authors, as well as, most probably, by Cato himself. Surviving excerpts from the text of Diodoros about the Rhodian embassy to Rome in 167 have allowed some to conclude that Diodoros was following the version of Polybios. However, these excerpts refer to the Romans’ displeasure at the alleged Rhodian inclination toward Perseus during the war. Therefore, although Diodoros clearly knew Polybios’s text, as demonstrated by Diodoros’s reference to the saying about the swan song (which Polybios also mentioned when talking about the same episode), he was likely following the Roman interpretation of the events, that is, similarly to Livy, Velleius, Sallust, and Gellius. The themes of the arrogance of the ambassadors and of Rhodian readiness to join Perseus were

155. Cf. correspondingly different descriptions of the senate summoning the Rhodian ambassadors after the Roman victory at Pydna, as if for a punishment, by Polyb. 29.19.2 and Liv. 45.3.3 (see n. 80 above). For Polybios as relying on Rhodian source(s) here: Ullrich, “De Polybii fontibus,” 60–61. 156. Another such example was the Roman idea of the “ingratitude” of the Aetolians, who had made peace with Philip on their own; see Badian, Clientelae, 85. It did not matter to the Romans that none of the Greek mediators between the Aetolians and Philip V took Rome, although an ally of the Aetolians, into account at that time. 157. Janzer, Untersuchungen, 75–76; F. della Corte, Catone Censore: La vita e la fortuna2 (Florence: Nuova Italia, 1969), 73–76. This rôle of Cato: Mommsen, Geschichte9, 1:776; Deininger, Widerstand, 267; Errington, Dawn, 252; Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 383; Wiemer, Krieg, 320; Calboli, “Introduzione,” 120. Pace Astin, Cato, 274–276, with a much more cautious stance. 158. Polyb. 30.4; cf. Diod. 31.5.1–6; see F. R. Walton, Diodorus of Sicily with an English Translation, vol. 11 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1957), 319 n. 1; Walbank, Commentary, 3:419. 159. See Gelder, Geschichte, 139–140; Tränkle, Livius, 158. 160. Vell. 1.9.2; Sall. Cat. 51.5; Gell. 6.3.1–5.

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developed by the “annalistic tradition,” as was the idea of the Rhodians wavering even before the war. These themes removed the emphasis from the real “arrogance” of Rhodes in the eyes of the Romans of that time, namely, her plan to coerce Rome and Perseus into making peace if this was necessary to defend freedom of the Greeks. Summing up, although there indeed were pro-Roman and pro-Macedonian factions on Rhodes, and the latter might have wished for Rhodes to join Perseus, the Rhodian mediation attempt in 168 cannot be viewed as a victory of the proMacedonian forces. Formally, this attempt was a neutral act of a third party, which corresponded to Rhodes’s traditional stance as the champion of peace and freedom in Greece. Such an attempt could be, and was in fact, later used by Rome against Rhodes, but this was a matter of interpretation. Many other Greeks occupied a similarly neutral position at the beginning of Rome’s war against Perseus, and their position was likewise interpreted as anti-Roman. In Boeotia, the “Great Purges” that followed the defeat of Perseus resulted in the demand by the Roman general C. Lucretius Gallus that the pro-Roman faction (qui Romanorum partis erant) be rewarded, whereas, in the words of Livy, “the estates of the men of the opposing faction and of the supporters of the king and the Macedonians [were to] be sold at auction.” The “anti-Roman” faction, therefore, was not necessarily composed of supporters of Perseus and Macedonia: such people simply refused to follow the Roman cause (i.e., to belong to the Romanorum pars) and to accept Roman interference in their affairs, which was then judged by Rome as an antiRoman stance. The Epirotes, under the leadership of Cephalos, also acted justly, according to their treaty with Rome, and tried to preserve their own freedom and neutrality in the conflict. However, Charops, a member of a prominent Epirote family who had spent his youth in Rome and become well connected there, presented those of Cephalos’s activities that went against the wishes of the Romans as resulting from deliberate malice. When Cephalos saw three Aetolian leaders being arrested and transported to Rome without any grounds (alogos), but merely on the accusations of Lyciscos (the latter, according to Polybios, played the same rôle in Aetolia that Charops was playing in Epirus), Cephalos eventually found himself on Perseus’s side. The Aetolians, therefore, probably tried to preserve their neutrality and then paid for what was actually their attempt to remain free.

161. E.g., Colin, Rome, 458 n. 4. 162. Liv. 42.26.8. 163. See Diod. 31.5.1 and Gell. 6.3.3. 164. Liv. 42.63.12. 165. Polyb. 27.15.12–14.

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Roman interpretations of the behavior of the Greeks during the war thus had their own practical reasons. The multiplicity of interpretations of why Rome punished the Rhodians cannot conceal that it was not simply the Rhodians striving for peace, or Rhodes’s neutrality, or even her attempt to mediate that angered the Romans. All of this, although present and important, was secondary to the Rhodians’ stance as the champions of Greek freedom, which determined the course and form of their actions and, accordingly, their punishment by the Romans. They were repaid with the loss of Caria and Lycia, which became confirmed as “free” by the Romans. “Freedom” was also the slogan under which the Romans demolished the Macedonian state and divided it into four regions. Each of these regions received its own legislation and administration, for the sake of preserving the freedom that the Romans gave to Macedonia in “healthy moderation.”

c onclusion It is not possible to classify the activity of the Rhodians in the Third Macedonian war as simply being pro- or anti-Roman, even though such factions certainly existed on Rhodes in the second century. An anti-Roman stance in the war by the Rhodians was impossible to prove, and formal accusations were never aired. The Rhodians came out in defense of Greek freedom; whether this stance, traditional for the Rhodians, went against Roman interests is a different matter. Even though defending Greek freedom meant treating all belligerents, including Rome, in the same way, the Rhodians did not expect such a severe punishment from Rome. Nor could the Romans punish those who were acting in defense of Greek freedom. The punishment of the Rhodians, therefore, officially came in return for their “arrogance” and their “inclination” toward Perseus before and during the war. Both charges were matters of Roman interpretation. The “arrogance” was obviously the attempt by the Rhodians to mediate between Perseus and Rome, thus acting as power brokers and positioning themselves above both parties. But the

166. Schmitt, Rom, 148–149, 153; Will, Histoire, 2:251; Baronowski, “Livy,” 137. 167. Liv. 45.18.4–8; Iust. 33.2.7. Details: A. Aymard, in CP 45 (1950): 96–107. 168. E.g., Deininger, Widerstand, 204–208. 169. For attempts to examine the failed Rhodian mediation between Rome and Perseus against the background of Rhodes’s traditional stance as the champion of the Greeks: Calboli, “Introduzione,” 119–120, who focused on Rhodes’s rôle as a “sea-policeman” that maintained a “balance of power,” without discussing the topic of Greek “freedom.”

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official Roman explanations for punishing Rhodes were the “arrogance” of the Rhodian ambassadors to Rome in 168 (or 169, as in Livy) and the alleged Rhodian declaration that they would use force against any party that was unwilling to make peace. The former accusation was a later fabrication. The latter, which was an obvious and traditional component of the defense of Greek freedom, was (consciously) misinterpreted by the Romans as an anti-Roman stance. Although the Rhodians made an official decision not to join or support Perseus and did nothing to help him, the pro-Perseus faction on Rhodes became vocal, and later Rhodian activity in defense of peace and freedom in Greece (advocated by Perseus on the eve of the war) played into Perseus’s hands in the end. This stance presupposed that Greek affairs were to be settled only by the Greeks. Quite like all those who had used the Greek slogan of freedom in earlier times, the Rhodians acted in their own interests first and foremost: this slogan helped Rhodes to undermine alliances of her enemies, while allowing her to build and maintain her own military alliance. The earliest such evidence seems to come from the time of Rhodes’s war against Byzantium in 220: the Rhodians conducted diplomatic missions with, and on behalf of, their allies. They then deployed naval contingents of their allies and concluded peace treaties on behalf of themselves and their allies. The allies thus became Rhodian adscripti to the peace between Rhodes and Byzantium. The Romans, however, accused Rhodes of inconsistency (by pointing out that Rhodes did not interfere when Perseus was overtaking Greek cities) and retaliated by confirming the “freedom” of the Lycians and the Carians. Having always presented themselves as champions of Greek freedom, the Rhodians could hardly say anything against this decision. The possibility should not be ruled out that by assigning Lycia and Caria to Rhodes as part of the Apamean settlement, the Romans had secured an effective tool for themselves for interfering in Rhodian affairs on the pretext of protecting the freedom of the Lycians and Carians in the future. In the same fashion, Rome would claim to protect the freedom of the peoples of the Peloponnese, which had been assigned by the Romans to the control of the Achaean League. The Rhodian stance in the war has usually been examined as an individual event in the history of Roman dealings with the Greeks. But the Rhodian attempt to mediate in the Third Macedonian war, and the subsequent Roman treatment of Rhodes, were quite characteristic of the overall Roman-Greek relationship in the

170. Polyb. 4.47.3, 4.50.5, 4.52.5. On Rhodian allies: V. Gabrielsen, in C&M 51 (2000): 175–177. 171. See next chapter.

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second century. One can easily put this episode together with the Greek mediation (209–206) in the conflict between the Aetolians and Philip V, which left no place for Rome in Greece. Half a century before the Rhodians voiced their opinion in defense of Greek freedom, a similar position was occupied by the Aetolians, who dared, as one can see from the speech of Agelaos at Naupactus at the end of the Allied war in 217, to prefer Greek interests (including their own) to those of the Romans. There can be little doubt that the speech prepared by the Rhodians for the Roman senate in 168 had the same basic idea of connecting “peace” with “freedom,” even if without pointing to the danger of Roman slavery, as had the speech of Agelaos. The Roman interpretation of the Aetolian stance was the same one that the Romans would give to the stance of the Rhodians in 168. The speech of the Aetolian ambassadors in front of the senate, which acknowledged no blame on the part of the Aetolians, was therefore considered “insolent” by the senators. As with the Rhodians a few decades later, the Romans urged the Aetolians to admit either their “fault” or “mistake” (culpae seu errori). The vocabulary was, therefore, the same on both occasions. Neither occasion produced anything anti-Roman per se: like the Aetolians before them, the Rhodians simply did what, in their opinion, would be most beneficial for the Greeks, including the Rhodians themselves. This attitude implied not only neutrality, which was tolerated by Rome, but independence of Roman foreign policy, which was not. Although this stance went against Roman interests in Greece, no military retaliation followed because, among other things, the Romans did not have any valid arguments against the Rhodians that would justify a Roman war against the champions of Greek freedom, in the eyes of other Greeks. After Rhodes had been economically and politically weakened, Rome granted her a treaty in 164.

172. The speech: Polyb. 5.103.9–5.104.11 (and pp. 148–151, with nn. 24 and 27–42). See Eckstein, “Mediation,” 273–275 and 294–295, concerning negotiations and mediation in 209–206 b.c., incl. p. 295: “The interests of the mediating states simply did not parallel to the interests of Rome, and the mediating states pursued those interests energetically in this period even when they ran contrary to those of Rome.” These immediate reasons could well be true. Yet the theme of the safety (soteria) of the Greeks, which was so prominent at these negotiations and a few others that took place in the late third century (see chapter 4), should have served as an ideological framework that was acceptable to all Greeks. 173. Liv. 37.49.1–2: offenderunt aures insolentia sermonis. 174. Liv. 36.22.1 and 37.49.1: ut confitendo seu culpae seu errori veniam supplices peterent. 175. E.g., Polyb. 30.31.20; Liv. per. 46. Schmitt, Rom, 168–172; Wiemer, Krieg, 325–328.

9 The Downfall of the Achaean League and Polybios’s History

i At the beginning of the Second Macedonian war, the Achaeans generally remained neutral, being only slightly inclined toward Philip V. In addition to Philip’s antiSpartan activity in the Peloponnese, the Achaeans might have been attracted to him by military considerations, along with the long-standing idea of unity of the Greeks. As we have seen above, this idea became especially prominent in the late third century, when the representatives of different Greek states were negotiating peace between Philip V and the Aetolians in the face of, as many Greeks thought, an imminent Roman assault on Greece. The Achaeans then changed their position and sided with Rome (in 198–197), thus giving themselves an opportunity to establish control over Corinth and do away with Nabis. The presence of Roman military forces and the fresh memory of Roman atrocities in Greece probably also

1. E.g., Polyb. 16.35.1–2 (the Achaean embassy to Rhodes following the capture of Abydus by Philip), 16.38, with Errington, Hellenistic World, 204: “The Achaian League under Aratos had only accepted Macedonian leadership reluctantly in the 220s.” 2. E.g., Polyb. 18.14.6–9. 3. See Errington, Hellenistic World, 204–205, on the division among the League’s leadership. 4. For speeches delivered at these negotiations, see chapter 4. 5. Polyb. 18.13.8–9. M. Feyel, in RÉG 56 (1943): 235–236; Deininger, Widerstand, 42–46; A. M. Eckstein, in CQ, n.s., 37 (1987): 140–150; Koehn, Krieg-Diplomatie-Ideologie, 181; Champion, “Romans as Barbaroi,” 438–439; Champion, Cultural Politics, 53, 228–229; J.-D. Gauger, “Achaier(bund),” in LH, 12. 6. Liv. 32.19.4; cf. Polyb. 18.45.12. Homo, “Flamininus,” 245–247; Eckstein, Vision, 200.

313

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played their part in making the Achaeans change sides and ally themselves with the Romans. The benefits of switching the sides were obvious and immediate: Nabis and his own military alliance stood in the way of the Achaeans fulfilling their old dream of establishing the Achaean dominance over the entire Peloponnese. Not surprisingly, the Achaeans vehemently supported the Roman propagandistic and military campaigns against Nabis. They then came to control the coastal cities that Nabis had to give away, as a result of his peace treaty with Rome. Therefore after the departure of the Roman forces from Greece in 194, when Nabis staged a comeback in 193 (with Aetolian support) and reestablished control over these coastal cities, the Achaeans had to respond immediately. After the death of Nabis, Philopoemen made Sparta a member of the Achaean League (with acknowledgment by the Romans) and then prevented what might have been an attempt of the Spartans to secede. With the encouragement of Philopoemen, the Achaeans declared war against Antiochos and the Aetolians four months before Roman forces crossed into Greece. The Achaeans would later present this move as proof of their pro-Roman stance, even though their declaration of war could hardly have been more than the protection of their own interests and the expectation of new gains, in anticipation of Rome’s imminent involvement in this conflict.

f rom the r oman w ar against a ntiochos i i i to the t hird m acedonian w ar Because they gave help to the Romans against the Aetolians and Antiochos, the Achaeans looked forward to being rewarded by Rome in return. However, Roman reward was hardly an example of magnanimity. Although the Romans 7. Liv. 32.19.6; Paus. 7.8.1–2. E.g., Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 60. 8. The Achaeans’ long-standing desire for domination over the entire Peloponnese: Niese, Geschichte, 3:35; Holleaux, Études, 5:427; Champion, Cultural Politics, 124 (with n. 82), 126. Pace Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 229. Cf. Polyb. 2.37.9 (see n. 180 below). 9. For the Achaean propaganda, with reference to the “tyranny” of Nabis: e.g., Liv. 39.37.1–4. For the echo of anti-Nabis propaganda in Polybios: Gelzer, “Achaica,” 142. 10. E.g., Liv. 35.12.7 (see p. 208, n. 53), 35.13.3. 11. E.g., Liv. 35.13.3, 39.36.9–11. 12. Liv. 35.37.1–3, 39.37.10, 12, 15; Plut. Philop. 15.3, 16.2. See Polyb. 23.17.5–23.18.5. Cf. Koehn, KriegDiplomatie-Ideologie, 155 (“[die] Achäer Sparta annektiert hätten”). 13. E.g., Polyb. 39.3.8; cf. Liv. 35.50.2. 14. Pace Grainger, War, 173; R. M. Errington, Philopoemen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 99; Errington, Hellenistic World, 217–218. The problem of whether the Achaeans started hostilities before or after the Romans declared war on Antiochos can hardly be resolved because of the state of our evidence: e.g., Baronowski, “Treaties,” 220–221. 15. E.g., Liv. 37.4.6.

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acknowledged Achaean control over the coastal cities (thus merely restoring the situation to its previous status, following Nabis’s defeat in 195), their response on the status of the Spartans was so ambiguous that the latter even expected a Roman intervention on behalf of Sparta. When the Messenians, after being pressed by the Achaeans in 191, preferred to surrender to Flamininus (“as the author of their freedom,” in Livy’s words), he arranged for their admission into the Achaean League, at the same time inviting them to come to Rome whenever they chanced to have any problems. Of course, no grounds exist for thinking that after the Messenians surrendered to Flamininus he became their patronus. In fact, deditio did not by itself establish a patron-client relationship (see Appendix 9), and although the deditio of the Messenians secured them a special status in the Achaean League, they had no Roman patrocinium. Still, in this way the Romans reserved the right to interfere in the affairs of the Achaean League on the pretext of protecting the freedom of its individual members, not only because the Romans had arranged the admission of Messenia into the Achaean League in 191 but also because the Romans claimed to have given freedom to the Messenians and the Spartans. Although Sparta and Messenia formally belonged to the Achaean League, both regions were thus acknowledged as having a special relationship with Rome. Therefore, even before the period that began when the alliance between Rome and the Achaean League was established, and ended when the war broke out between them, the Romans had an effective tool for interfering in the affairs of this League, or for provoking it into an open conflict if necessary. This situation has already been noted by many, including Mommsen, who spoke of “the true hydra of internal discord,” and Niese, who mentioned the Roman desire to destroy the political life of Achaea by setting party factions against each other. Our earliest evidence of the alliance between the Achaean League and Rome dates to 184. The establishment of this alliance is thought to have occurred

16. Liv. 38.31.1–2 and 38.32.8–10. 17. As K. Harter-Uibopuu, Das Zwischenstaatliche Schiedsverfahren im Achäischen koinon: Zur friedlichen Streitbeilegung nach den epigraphischen Quellen (Cologne: Böhlau, 1998), 186. 18. The Messenians: Liv. 36.31.1–9; Ager, Arbitrations, no. 86, interpreted this episode as an example of Flamininus’s arbitration between the Achaean League and Messenia. The Spartans: e.g., Polyb. 21.1.1. 19. Polyb. 18.42.6–7; Liv. 32.23.2. 20. Mommsen, Geschichte9, 1:750; Niese, Geschichte, 3:61; G. A. Lehmann, Ansätze zu einer Theorie des griechischen Bundesstaates bei Aristoteles und Polybios (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 47. Pace Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 122–123, and Errington, Hellenistic World, 219 (“Achaia thus became, thanks to Roman support, the single major state remaining in southern Greece, and was now also rewarded by the senate with a treaty on equal terms to seal the excellent relationship”). 21. Liv. 39.37.10 and 13 (see n. 38 below). See Liv. 32.23.1–2, 35.50.2 (192 b.c.), 38.32.8 (188 b.c.).

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at an earlier date, however: all the suggested datings fall within the period from 198–197 to 189. As the Spartans became restless in 189, probably in the aftermath of the Roman victory over Antiochos, they appealed to the Romans in the name of Greek freedom (as the Messenians had done in 191). The Spartans broke their alliance with the Achaeans and tried to recover the coastal towns. A declaration of war by the Achaeans followed, and the Roman general M. Fulvius Nobilior, after giving an ambiguous reply, made both sides send ambassadors to Rome. By acknowledging the right of the Romans to arbitrate among different members of the Achaean League, the Achaeans were put on equal footing with other members of their League. The Romans were also able to capitalize on disagreements within the Achaean leadership. The same M. Fulvius Nobilior was invited by some of the League’s leading men to participate in a debate about whether Aegium should be the permanent meeting place of the League. Some (represented by Diophanes) entrusted all decisions to the Romans, whereas others (such as Lycortas and Philopoemen) insisted that internal matters of the League should be decided solely by the Achaeans. Philopoemen, who clearly saw the danger in allowing the Romans to have a say in the Achaeans’ internal affairs, appealed to the Romans to give the Achaeans the freedom that the Romans claimed to have authored: ut Achaeis . . . libertatemque sibi illibatam, cuius ipsi auctores essent, praestarent. He elaborated on how certain checks could be put on the arbitrary conduct of the Romans by using, in the words of Polybios, “Roman fidelity to oaths, treaties, and contracts with allies.” One might hear in these words an echo of what Nabis had said to Flamininus just a few years earlier, about the Roman attitude toward treaties and pledges with allies, as “the most sacred of human ties.” The Achaeans were then pushing Rome against Nabis; now they were using the same argument against the

22. 198–197 or 196: Sherwin-White, Foreign Policy, 61–62; Giovannini, Relations, 407 (198). 196: Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 214. 194–193: Bastini, Bund, 50, 67, and 233 n. 29; Baronowski, “Treaties,” 226 (following the view of A. Aymard). 192–191: Badian, “Treaty,” 79–80; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 95; Ferrary, “Traités,” 222; Baronowski, “Sub umbra foederis aequi,” 367 (and n. 44 with a bibliographic survey); Grandjean, Messéniens, 227; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 348. 189: Briscoe, “Class Struggle,” 8; Horn, “Foederati,” 31–34. “Soon after 189”: Gruen, Hellenistic World, 33–34. See, in general, Deininger, Widerstand, 45 n. 25; Bernhardt, Rom, 37. 23. Liv. 38.30–31. 24. Liv. 38.32.1–5; E. Badian and R. M. Errington, in Historia 14 (1965): 13–17. 25. Badian and Errington, in Historia 14 (1965): 13–17; cf. Liv. 38.30.2–5-. For the special rôle of Aegium in the Achaean League: e.g., Polyb. 5.1.7; Lehmann, Ansätze, 51; Champion, Cultural Politics, 127. 26. Plut. Philop. 17.2–3; Errington, Philopoemen, 157–159; Nottmeyer, Polybios, 43. 27. Esp. Niese, Geschichte, 3:36, 42. 28. Liv. 38.32.6–8, 39.37.9–17.

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Romans. Philopoemen’s appeal to the Romans to deliver freedom—the proclaimed goal of the Roman war against Antiochos—and his intention to hold the Romans to their word are also clearly reminiscent of a similar stance by the Rhodians, which they assumed in front of the Roman senate, after the war against Antiochos was over. The Rhodians, while rebuffing claims by Eumenes II, urged the Romans to keep their word and to give freedom to the cities of Asia Minor. Therefore, once Antiochos was defeated, appeals to the Romans to deliver freedom to the Greeks came from different corners of the Greek world, and for different reasons. Such appeals, which reflected the desire of the Greeks to preserve their freedom and to keep their affairs to themselves, were easily interpreted by Rome as anti-Roman: just as accusations (unsubstantiated, in the end) of anti-Roman behavior would be filed against the Rhodians after the Third Macedonian war, so Philopoemen, too, was to be considered an enemy to Rome. The Romans also used the slogan of freedom, by claiming to protect new members of the Achaean League. The (purposefully) ambiguous reply of the senators made this task even easier. When, soon afterward, Philopoemen tore down the walls of the Spartans, executed some of them, resettled some others in Achaea, and changed the old “Lycurgan constitution,” the Roman envoys (led by Q. Caecilius Metellus, on the way home from Macedonia in the mid-180s) criticized the Achaeans for their harsh treatment of the Spartans. The speech by Metellus once again revealed, and was probably delivered with the knowledge of, a profound disagreement among the Achaean leadership: Diophanes of Megalopolis accused his political opponents of a harsh treatment of the Messenians and, in particular, upbraided Philopoemen for “interference” with the “edict (diagramma) of Flamininus.” The word diagramma could not designate the declaration of Flamininus as such. Therefore, Diophanes used this word with reference either to Flamininus’s edicts, which were sent to individual Greek cities following the declaration, or to Flamininus’s arrangement after the Messenians surrendered to him and were introduced by him (on certain conditions) into the Achaean League. In either case, the “edict” had to be based on the principles of Flamininus’s declaration, and, therefore, Diophanes’s accusations came as if in defense of

29. Polyb. 24.13.1–7. Nabis: Liv. 34.31.1–4 (see p. 240, n. 84). 30. Polyb. 21.19.5, 21.23.7–12 (see p. 283, n. 4). 31. Philopoemen: Polyb. 24.13; cf. Liv. 38.32.8. Niese, Geschichte, 3:42. On Rome and Rhodes, see chapter 8. 32. Liv. 38.33.1–38.34.9; Plut. Philop. 16.3–5; G. Niccolini, La Confederazione Achea (Pavia: Mattei, 1914), 148–149. 33. Polyb. 22.10.1–2; Liv. 39.33.5–8. This date: R. Werner, in Grazer Beiträge 6 (1977): 207, 209. 34. Polyb. 22.10.6. 35. Cf. Liv. 36.31.1–9 (which also dealt with exiles).

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Greek freedom. Metellus also wanted to undermine the structure of the Achaean League by appealing directly to the assembly, against the decisions of its magistrates. But the Achaean leadership ultimately managed to prevent the Romans from addressing the Achaean assembly, by denying their request on procedural grounds. Not surprisingly, the next Roman embassy, led by Appius Clauidus Pulcher, encouraged the Spartans to send a separate delegation to Rome. Pausanias (or his source) referred to this as a violation of the agreement between Rome and the Achaean League, which forbade any city of the League to send a deputation to Rome on its own. However, as we have seen above, this had already happened in 189, so the Romans were simply following along the same lines. Pulcher’s embassy included two Spartan representatives, Areus and Alcibiades, whom the Romans had made equal participants in the negotiations between Rome and the Achaeans. According to Livy, Lycortas uttered the following phrase: “The treaty, you say, looks as if it were between equals: in fact, among the Achaeans freedom (libertas) is a thing bestowed as a favor, among the Romans it amounts even to sovereignty (imperium)” Lycortas’s question as to why Rome put the Achaeans on an equal footing with the Spartans could only be a rhetorical one. His words, in Livy’s rendition, showed that although the Achaean-Roman alliance formally represented an equal partnership, the freedom of the Achaeans was actually like the freedom of those who had surrendered themselves to the trust (fides) of the Romans and then received their freedom from Rome as a gift that could be taken away at any time. But the freedom of the Romans appeared to be the freedom to do as they pleased. The superiority of Rome allowed the Romans to pressure the Achaeans, as if they were acting in defense of the Spartans. Roman threats to use force, which would be repeated after the Third Macedonian war, show that the Roman stance toward Achaea remained consistent throughout this entire period, as we shall also see below. A little further in his text, while describing the escalating tensions between Rome and Achaea, Polybios noticed that, even at that time, the Achaeans expected to receive equal treatment from the Romans because the Achaeans had kept their “good faith” (pistis) with Rome from the moment they sided with the Romans in the wars against Philip V, Antiochos III, and the Aetolians. 36. Polyb. 22.10.10–12; Badian, Clientelae, 89 and 90 with n. 1. For the personal reasons that Diophanes could have had for making this speech: Errington, Philopoemen, 167–168. 37. Paus. 7.9.3–4; cf. Polyb. 23.4.3. 38. Liv. 39.37.13. 39. Paus. 7.9.4; Liv. 39.37.14. See Ager, Arbitrations, 301. 40. A debate concerning the origin and authencity of this information: Nottmeyer, Polybios, 45 n. 86. 41. E.g., Liv. 39.37.19–21; Polyb. 23.4.14.

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Lycortas’s words and Polybios’s statement point in the same direction: the “equality” of the Achaeans (or, in other words, their freedom) depended, in the end, exclusively on their continued “good faith” with Rome. The stance of the Achaeans in the 190s and 180s, as reflected by Lycortas and Polybios, should be kept in mind because the same considerations were offered by Critolaos and Diaios in 147–146, on the very eve of Rome’s final assault on Achaea: thus the Achaean policy remained consistent during all this time as well. The real nature of the Roman-Achaean alliance was fully revealed in 183–182, when the Achaeans asked Rome for help against the revolting Messenians and the senators flatly refused. Their refusal has been explained as the senate simply not being interested. Thus it is quite important that the relevant passage of Polybios be quoted here in full: When the Achaeans begged them, if it were possible, to send a force in virtue of their alliance (symmachia) to help them against the Messenians, or if not, to see to it that no one coming from Italy should import arms or food to Messenia, they paid no attention to either request and only replied that not even if the people of Sparta, Corinth or Argos deserted the League, should the Achaeans be surprised if the senate did not think it concerned them. Giving full publicity to this reply, which was a sort of proclamation that the Romans would not interfere with those who wished to desert the Achaean League, the senators continued to detain the envoys, waiting to see how the Achaeans would get on at Messenia. The Roman-Achaean treaty, therefore, left it to the discretion of the Romans to decide if they wished to interfere in support of the Achaeans. The wording of the Achaean appeal, as reported by Polybios, made it quite clear that the Romans could decide either way. The publication by the senators of their decision shows that what they did was one of the options. The Roman-Achaean treaty was not, therefore, a binding alliance. It would not be out of place to suggest that Nabis and other adscripti to the peace of Phoenice occupied a similar position with respect to Rome in 205 as the Achaeans did in 183–182.

42. Polyb. 24.10.9; Paus. 7.9.7. For this concept in more detail, see chapter 7. 43. Polyb. 38.10.9–13 (see n. 214 below). 44. Nottmeyer, Polybios, 50–51; E. S. Gruen, “The Origins of the Achaean War,” JHS 96 (1976): 59; HarterUibopuu, Schiedsverfahren, 183; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 348 n. 23 (on the stance of the senate as aiming to “effect a more moderate Achaean policy”). Cf. Niese, Geschichte, 3:51, on the revolt of the Messenians as ultimately having been provoked by Roman policy. 45. Polyb. 23.9.12–14.

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The senate’s response also shows that it is not that the Romans merely “lacked the interest” but that they purposefully declined to help the Achaeans. By refusing to interfere militarily, and by leaving all the matters to be settled by the peoples of the Peloponnese themselves, the senators pushed the Greeks to appeal for Roman arbitration. The recommendation of Q. Marcius Philippus, duly seconded by the senate, was that the Romans had done all in their power for the Spartans, and if the Spartans would only resolve themselves to the Messenian mindset, then the Achaeans would become eager to abandon their independent stance and turn to the Romans as arbitrators. In practical terms, this meant that if the Spartans wanted the Romans to become arbitrators in their conflict with the Achaean League, they should join the Messenian revolt, and then the Achaeans themselves would beg the Romans to arbitrate. The policy of the senate was hardly one of ambiguity and deception: in fact, this policy was quite consistent in its focus on undermining the unity of the Greeks, by first provoking them to go against each other, so that that they would then appeal to Rome for arbitration. Such appeals gave the Romans the right to interfere and to settle each matter as they pleased, under the pretext of protecting the freedom of the Greeks. By giving “full publicity” to their reply, the senators thus turned it into a declaration intended for the Messenians, Spartans, Argives, and other members of the Achaean League, who could ponder the possibility of restoring their freedom by withdrawing from the League. Whether the Spartans had the same right as the Messenians, to appeal directly to the senate, is uncertain. Formally, in compliance with the League’s regulation, the Spartan embassy could go to Rome only if the Achaeans sent their embassy as well. Therefore, because the Spartans were relying on Roman support, when they managed to dispatch their ambassadors, the Achaeans had to do the same; this was partly to observe and counteract the activities of the Spartan envoys and partly to comply with the above-mentioned regulations specifying that only the League had the right to send embassies to Rome. Still, although the Spartans took the lead, their internal squabbles undermined their attempts to forge a united front against the Achaeans: four different Spartan

46. Polyb. 23.9.9–10. 47. So Niese, Geschichte, 3:55–56; Briscoe, “Nova Sapientia,” 67. 48. So correctly P. S. Derow, “ Polybios and the Embassy of Kallikrates,” in Essays Presented to C. M. Bowra (Oxford: Alden Press for Wadham College, 1970), 14. Pace M. Bonnefond-Coudry, in Ktèma 12 (1987): 92, on the senators as if they were forced to become arbitrators in the conflict between Sparta and the Achaean League. 49. See Niese, Geschichte, 3:55–56. 50. Cf., e.g., Paus. 7.9.4 (185–184 b.c.) and 7.12.4–6 (150–149 b.c.; see n. 132 below).

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political factions were simultaneously presenting various matters before the senators in 183, the question of Sparta’s membership in the Achaean League being only one of them. Of course, the Achaean ambassadors were in Rome to deal with, among other things, the question of Spartan membership in their League as well. The senate’s deliberations resulted in the decision to send yet another senatorial commission to the Peloponnese, again led by Pulcher. The investigation of this commission and the senate’s decision brought about an agreement between the Achaean League and Sparta, which was signed by both sides, and in which they were once again posed as equal parties. On the one hand, Sparta remained a member of the Achaean League; on the other, she still maintained a special status in the League, which offered the Romans an excuse for further interference and arbitration. The outcome has been acknowledged as a “heavy breach of sovereignty of the [Achaean] League.” This settlement could only be of a temporary nature. The situation with Messenia turned out much more successfully for the Achaeans, even in spite of Rome’s flat refusal to help them against the Messenian revolt, and in spite of the senatorial declaration that provoked the Messenians and other members of the Achaean League to secede. The Achaeans quickly, and relatively easily, put down the Messenian revolt (their only major loss being the death of old Philopoemen), and the Romans could hardly conceal their displeasure that this conflict had not been brought to them for arbitration. Rome’s resentment was quite obvious: whereas earlier the Messenians had entered the Achaean League by order of the Romans (to whom the Messenians had surrendered and who, for this reason, had the right to “protect” the Messenians by virtue of Roman fides), now the Achaeans themselves had conquered Messenia, and the Romans had no grounds to interfere in their relations with the Messenians. The Achaeans’ next step was also quite obvious. They undermined the strength of the Messenians by dealing directly with their cities: Abia, Thuria, and Pharae joined the Achaean League by separate agreements.

51. The embassy of the Spartans: Polyb. 23.4.1–8, 14. The embassy of the Achaeans: 23.4.12–13. 52. Liv. 39.48.1–4; cf. Polyb. 23.4.8–16. 53. Horn, “Foederati,” 36. 54. Polyb. 23.17.3–4; cf. 24.1.6–7. See also Liv. 39.50.9; Paus. 8.51.8. Pace Errington, Hellenistic World, 240: “Messene was subsequently reintegrated into the League, probably with some territorial adjustments, but at great cost in manpower, destruction of crops, and prestige.” 55. Cf. Merten, “Fides,” 18–19. This Roman practice: Harris, War, 34–35, 189–190, with chapter 7 and Appendix 9. 56. Polyb. 23.17.1–2. Niccolini, Confederazione, 162; N. Deshours, “Les institutions civiques de Messène à l’époque hellénistique tardive,” ZPE 150 (2004): 134–135. Grandjean, Messéniens, 228: with the aim of totally isolating Messenia, as well as Sparta, from the sea.

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One can hardly doubt that the Achaeans clearly understood the aims of Roman policy in Greece, and so did their best to give the Romans as little an opportunity to interfere as possible. In a speech delivered in 180, which concerned the Achaean pacification of Messenia in the late 180s, Callicrates referred to Metellus’s attempts to bring the relations between the Achaeans and the Messenians to the arbitration of the Romans and noted that those Messenians who had appealed for Roman arbitration were subject to particularly harsh treatment by the Achaeans. Acting along those same lines, after returning from Rome, Callicrates restored both Spartan and Messenian exiles, thus formally claiming neutrality but, in fact, undermining the political stability of Sparta and Messenia and provoking them to seek the Achaean arbitration. In particular, the restoration of Spartan exiles, which certainly formented political instability in Sparta, is thought to have solved the problem of the relationship between Sparta and the Achaean League for the next sixteen years. The Achaeans also reassigned parts of the same territories to different cities, thus provoking conflicts between these cities and securing the status of mediators for themselves, along with an opportunity to interfere in the affairs of the individual members of the League. By surrendering part of the territory of Thuria to Megalopolis, the Achaeans followed in the footsteps of Philip II, who gave portions of Spartan territory over to Tegea, Megalopolis, Argos, and Messana: in each case, the benefactor also became the arbitrator in the imminent territorial disputes. The policy of the Achaeans and the Romans thus appears to have been guided by the same rationale: the Achaeans preferred to deal with Messenian and Spartan cities on an individual basis, just as the Romans preferred to deal directly with the Messenians and Spartans, that is, in contravention of the Achaean League. Both parties acted as if they were defending the freedom of individual entities against domination by the central power. Not surprisingly, therefore, through the efforts of Lycortas, the city of Sparta was then admitted into the League on an individual basis, over the objections of the Spartans. Even the death of Philopoemen did not hinder the rise of the Achaean League. However, both the Achaeans and the Spartans resolved to send embassies to Rome to defend their positions, which means that even in this moment of triumph the Achaean League still had to acknowledge Rome’s right to arbitrate between the League and (some of) its constituent parts. The situation

57. Polyb. 24.9.12–13. 58. Polyb. 24.10.15; Syll.3 634 (dated to 179–178 b.c.). 59. E.g., Errington, Philopoemen, 203, 205; Harter-Uibopuu, Schiedsverfahren, 176. 60. The Achaean League: Polyb. 23.17.1–2. Philip II: Polyb. 9.28.7, 18.14.7 (see p. 87, n. 119). 61. Polyb. 23.17.1–23.18.2.

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of the League was not a simple one. On the one hand, the Achaean League extended to the entire Peloponnese, thus fulfilling what should have been the ultimate goal of the Achaeans. On the other hand, although the Achaean League formally included Sparta, Messenia, Elis, Corinth, and Argos by the time of the beginning of the Third Macedonian war, the interrelationship between the Romans and the Achaean League was always conditioned by Rome’s claim to the right to protect the freedom of the League’s individual members. Another good illustration of this situation concerns the episode when the Achaeans extended their laws to Sparta and therefore eliminated the “Lycurgan constitution,” or the Spartan legislation that was preserved by the Spartans even in the time of the Macedonian Peace, when they refused to participate in the League of Corinth and in the military campaigns of Philip and his son. The Achaeans did this for the obvious reason that the unity of the Achaean League had to be based on the use of the same laws. But claiming to protect the interests and freedom of the Spartans, the Romans exempted the Spartans from trials concerning capital punishment by the Achaeans and permitted them to restore their traditional “constitution.” Although this response seemed to protect the Spartans against maltreatment by the Achaeans, the immediate political outcome was that the unity of the Achaean League was once again undermined. The Spartans would try to use this decision to further their legal independence of the Achaean League. In diplomatic terms, the acknowledgment of the “Lycurgan constitution” by the Romans meant another blow to the Achaean hegemony over the Peloponnese: Rome reclaimed her right to arbitrate between the Achaeans and the Spartans. Roman embassies to Achaea were followed by embassies from the Achaeans and Spartans to Rome, as had happened after the embassy of Metellus and after the embassy of Pulcher. The slogan of freedom was an effective tool for the Romans in their dealings with powerful allies. Rome similarly approached individual cities of the Achaean League when she was beefing up Greeks’ support, or at least ensuring their friendly neutrality, on 62. Polyb. 2.37.8–2.38.9. Cf. Paus. 8.30.5. Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans,” 750. See n. 8 above. 63. Polyb. 22.7.5–6, 23.9.13; Liv. 35.37.2, 36.31.1–9, 36.35.7, 42.37.9. 64. Esp. Niccolini, Confederazione, 174. Pace Gruen, Hellenistic World, 521: “Intra-Peloponnesian quarrels formed the centerpiece, an ancient Hellenistic dispute neither fashioned nor fostered by Rome.” 65. Plut. Inst.Lacon. 42, p. 240ab, and chapter 2. 66. Polyb. 23.4.1–14; Paus. 7.9.5. 67. Liv. 39.36.1–39.37.21; Plut. Philop. 16.6. 68. Paus. 7.12.4. 69. Following Metellus’s embassy: Polyb. 22.11.5–22.12.10; Paus. 7.9.2; Liv. 39.33.5–8. Following Pulcher’s embassy: Paus. 7.9.4–5; cf. Liv. 39.37.13–14. 70. See Horn, “Foederati,” 37.

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the eve of the Third Macedonian war. P. Cornelius Lentulus and Servius Cornelius Lentulus, who came to Greece as part of the senatorial delegation in 172, toured the Peloponnese “exhorting all cities indiscriminately to help the Romans in the war against Perseus.” Quite understandably, the Achaeans were displeased that Rome was putting them, once again, on equal footing with the peoples of Messenia and Elis. The Lentuli negotiations with individual cities have been interpreted as the abandonment of formal diplomacy by Rome, which was allegedly caused by the Romans’ mistrust of the Achaean League on the eve of the war. Such interpretations arise from later reflections of the harsh treatment the Achaean League received from the Romans after the Third Macedonian war was over, when the Romans demanded hostages from the Achaeans. This alleged change in the Romans’ attitude has been connected with the tensions that preceded the war. It is hard, however, to see anything new in Roman treatment of the Achaean League either before or after the war. First, the Achaeans rejected Perseus’s overtures. Although the negotiations with Perseus revealed his many sympathizers among the “commoners” and the profound division among the Achaean leadership (which was not anything new either), the League continued to occupy an unambiguously pro-Roman position. The Achaeans certainly learned the lesson of the Boeotian Federation, which had been neutralized by the Romans and effectively transformed by them into a conglomerate of individual cities because this Federation had established a treaty with Perseus. It has already been suggested that the Boeotian Federation did not dissolve because the Romans introduced “a formal ban” but because they dealt with individual Boeotian cities one-on-one. If the information provided by Polybios elsewhere does not contradict this idea, then the Romans could have used the “autonomy clause” to effectively neutralize the Boeotian Federation without actually ordering its dissolution. This step, therefore, looks similar to the treatment that various Greek alliances received from the Spartans in the early fourth century and from Philip in the 350s through the 330s, as well as to what the Romans themselves would do in the case of the Achaean League in 146, as we shall see below. Meanwhile, however, the Achaeans did not necessarily need to learn the lesson of the Boeotians. Eumenes II indeed spoke ill of the Achaean League before the senate, but he also accused the Boeotians, who received

71. Liv. 42.37.7–8. 72. E.g., Nottmeyer, Polybios, 62, 161–162. See earlier Larsen, States, 459–460. 73. Bastini, Bund, 110–115, 117–119. Negotiations: chapter 8. 74. Polyb. 27.1.3 and 8: the alliance of the Boeotians with Perseus, 27.2.10 and 12; Liv. 42.12.6. 75. Kallet-Marx, Hegemony, 77–78, with reference to Polyb. 27.2.6–7 and Paus. 7.16.10. 76. As, e.g., Polyb. 27.1.3, which Kallet-Marx did not discuss.

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much harsher treatment from Rome than the Achaeans. Nor did the election of Archon, who had been favorably disposed to Perseus’s proposals in 175–174, as the general of the League in 172–171 send any “negative signals” to the Romans, even if the fact that Archon was elected by the assembly (“multitude,” hoi polloi) was probably reflective of the sympathy that the Achaean assembly had earlier extended to the proposals by Perseus. The Achaeans kept their pro-Roman stance in the war against Perseus and offered the Romans military help, on the proposal of Archon and with the active participation of the hipparch Polybios. It is uncertain whether the Achaeans had anticipated that the Romans would reject their offer of help. Nor are there any reliable grounds to viewing the rejection of the Achaean offer by the Romans as a sign of growing Roman displeasure with the Achaean League: this view has also been influenced by our knowledge about the conflict that would ultimately happen between Rome and the Achaeans. More important, the treatment that the Achaean League received from the Roman envoys in 172 reflected the Roman attitude adopted since the beginning of the second century: Rome had always preferred direct interaction with individual peoples and cities of the Peloponnese. Livy’s description of the Achaean League as consisting of “peoples,” such as those of Messenia or Elis, is reminiscent of the evidence from the period of the Macedonian Peace that describes Greek Leagues as consisting of ethne. The Romans only continued the policy of their predecessors, undermining Greek military alliances in this way. The next Roman embassy to the Peloponnese, led by C. Popilius Laenas and Cn. Octavius in the autumn of 170, similarly addressed individual cities first, before speaking in front of the general assembly of the Achaeans. Their messages obviously differed depending on the audience. Judging by the evidence, the envoys did not say anything of importance to the League, apparently because the League was not engaged in military operations: they merely urged the Achaeans to preserve their “friendship and alliance” with the Romans. The message of Popillius and Octavius to individual Achaean cities was probably similar to what they had said to the Thebans earlier in

77. Nottmeyer, Polybios, 62, with reference to Liv. 42.12.6–7. 78. So Nottmeyer, Polybios, 70. The generalship of Archon: Polyb. 27.2.11, 28.7.3–6. 79. E.g., Liv. 41.24. For this concept, see below. 80. Polyb. 28.12.1–28.13.6, 29.24.2. 81. Walbank, Commentary, 3:344–345; Nottmeyer, Polybios, 74, 76. 82. Liv. 42.37.8. The ethne: Dem. 9.26 (the Thessalians); Arr. 1.10.2 (the Aetolians); and chapter 2. 83. Polyb. 28.3.3–8 (28.3.7 for the assembly); Liv. 43.17.2–4; SEG 16, 255 (see next note). Polybios’s reference to the Achaean assembly has been questioned: Larsen, States, 469; Walbank, Commentary, 3:331. 84. SEG 16, 255.7–8 (honors to Cn. Octavius in Argos, 170 b.c.). The date of this inscription: P. Charneux, in BCH 81 (1957): 196–202; Walbank, Commentary, 3:329.

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the same mission: the Romans urged the people of Thebes to maintain their loyalty (eunoia) to Rome. The status of each city was obviously at stake; this status, including freedom, was conditioned by the city’s loyalty to the Romans.

f rom the t hird m acedonian w ar to the d estruction of c orinth The state of our sources for the period that followed the Third Macedonian war leaves much to be desired: Livy’s continuous narrative is missing after 167, whereas Polybios’s description of these events survives in an increasingly fragmented and biased form. As a result, the significance and even the sequence of events in about the next twenty years (from the defeat of Perseus to the sack of Corinth) need to be reconstructed to a large extent. The Third Macedonian war revealed a profound division among the Greeks, many of whom appeared to be sympathetic to Perseus, or at least to the cause of “Greek freedom” that he claimed to support. The latter did not necessarily imply an overtly anti-Roman stance. However, the fate of the Rhodians, who interfered in the conflict as a third party working to protect the interests and freedom of all Greeks against both Perseus and Rome, shows that the Romans did not see, or pretended not to see, the difference. Arrests and punishments for those who were accused of anti-Roman sentiment during the war also occurred elsewhere, including Achaea. The Achaean politicians took advantage of this opportunity to settle their own scores. But the Achaeans neither did nor could press such cases too far because no valid evidence existed against those people accused of an anti-Roman stance in Achaea during the war. In Polybios’s own words, “[I]n Achaea, Thessaly, and Perrhabia numerous men were accused, owing to their inaction, of awaiting the development of events and being favorably inclined to Perseus”; but none of them was punished because of the lack of evidence. Again unlike the Rhodians, the Achaeans had assumed a manifestly pro-Roman position in the war, which should have also eased the tensions once this war was finally over.

85. Polyb. 28.3.1–2. Rome’s relations with individual cities: chapter 7. 86. Cf. Polybios’s biased treatment of Critolaos (see below) and Callicrates: Derow, “Embassy,” 17; I. Didu, La fine della confederazione Achea: Lotta politica e rapporti con Roma dal 180 al 146 a.C. (Cagliari: Istituto di storia antica, 1993), 12–14. 87. For Rhodes, see chapter 8. See also Fustel de Coulanges, Questions, 178; Badian, Clientelae, 96–97. 88. See Nottmeyer, Polybios, 99–106: on Callicrates and Lycortas. 89. Polyb. 30.7.5 and 6; so also Polyb. 30.13.10. 90. See, e.g., Syll.3 649: the Achaean League’s honors to Q. Marcius Philippus.

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The Romans had their own ideas, however, and demanded to be given Achaean hostages. This demand has been explained by the allegedly worsening relations between Rome and the League. However, there is no evidence that Roman attitudes toward the Achaeans had changed in any meaningful way since before the war. And looking at the Rhodians, who had good relations with Rome before the war, shows that it is not necessary to search too deeply for the Romans’ rationale. Just as she had in the case of the Rhodians, Rome judged the Achaeans according to their behavior during the war. When reflecting on the opinion of the Achaean leadership at the beginning of the war, Polybios noted that Lycortas felt that rendering help to the Romans would have been “disadvantageous to all the Greeks, as he foresaw how strong the victors in the war would be, while he thought it dangerous to act against Rome.” The rest of the Achaean leaders seem to have been of the same opinion: overtly anti-Roman actions were to be avoided, nor should any pretext be given to the Romans (the “enemies,” in the text of Polybios) for accusing the Achaeans of disloyalty. Polybios put the words of Lycortas, who was speaking on behalf of the interests of all Greeks, together with the speeches of Agelaos in 217 and Lyciscos in 211 (or 210). There was more behind all these words, however, than just the common interests of all Greeks. The latter two speeches emphasized the unity of the Greeks against the “barbarians” (including the Romans), thus propagating that peace among the Greeks was necessary for Greek freedom and pointing to the danger of Roman enslavement of Greece. Several such pronouncements were made at the end of the third century, when the Romans came to Greece, while the Greeks were fighting against each other. One of them, which was delivered by the Rhodian Thrasicrates at Heraclea in 207, defended the commonality of the Greeks, who had to live in peace with each other in order to protect their freedom and safety. Therefore, the opinion of Lycortas (the “old right hand” of Philopoemen and the father of Polybios), so far as we can surmise from Polybios’s text, contained the same idea that Greek unity was the basis of Greek freedom. This idea implied that they should preserve their neutrality (or, better, volunteer to mediate) in conflicts among the Greeks. This message became even louder in conflicts between Greeks and non-Greeks: Greek interests were to be actively defended. This is what the

91. See also Nottmeyer, Polybios, 92. 92. Polyb. 28.6.4–8. 93. Nottmeyer, Polybios, 68 n. 102. For these speeches, see chapter 4. 94. Agelaos: Polyb. 5.103.9–5.104.11. Lyciscos: Polyb. 9.32.1–9.39.7. 95. Polyb. 11.4–6. For this and other such speeches, see chapter 4. 96. Grandjean, Messéniens, 228.

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Rhodians attempted to do when the war between Rome and Perseus dragged on for too long. Perseus had propagated the same idea and found support among many Greeks, including the Achaeans. His alliance with the Boeotian Federation was based on the idea of Greek freedom as well. Although the slogan of Greek freedom left no place for the Romans in Greek affairs, it was not anti-Roman per se. Nor did this slogan necessarily imply direct military activity against Rome. Archon and Polybios next became engaged in collecting a military force, which they would offer to use to help the Roman army. Unlike Rhodes, the Achaeans occupied a distinctly (even if not genuinely) pro-Roman stance in the Third Macedonian war, and they did not express any intention to protect panhellenic interests by the use of force. As a result, Rhodes and the Achaean League received different treatment from Rome following the war against Perseus. In either case, however, the Greeks who had been inclined toward neutrality (which was a reflection of a panhellenic stance in that situation) were then accused by the Romans and their local supporters of holding an anti-Roman position during the war. By transporting them as hostages to Italy, “Rome rewarded her favorites by literally removing their opponents.” Deporting hostages, therefore, continued the Roman policy of supporting partisans from among the Achaeans, which emerged after the Antiochian war and has been attributed to Callicrates. It still remains uncertain, however, whether one can refer to Callicrates’s activities as simply “pro-Roman” or whether they were dictated by factional considerations based on a different vision of the priorities of the Achaeans in that situation. The present investigation is not concerned with the debate about whether Callicrates’s policy was “positive” (Badian) or “negative” (Derow) for the Greeks, which seems out of place, because all such approaches are totally founded on Polybios’s personal view of Callicrates’s policy. 97. Cf., e.g., Polyb. 28.6.4–8 (see n. 92 above). 98. Such Roman accusations (totally unfounded): Polyb. 30.7.5–6, 30.13.10; Paus. 7.10.7–10. 99. Derow, “Embassy,” 23; cf. Briscoe, “Class Struggle,” 15, and Larsen, States, 483. 100. Esp. A. Passerini, in Athenaeum, n.s., 11 (1933): 327 (the “perfidious counsel of Callicrates”); Badian, Clientelae, 91; Deininger, Widerstand, 142–143; Lehmann, Untersuchungen, 187 n. 81; Walbank, “Polybius between Greece and Rome,” 7–8; Derow, “Embassy,” 13; Eckstein, Vision, 223; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 368–369 (“Callicrates began a shift in Roman-Greek relations towards a worse, i.e. more oppressive, situation”); Gauger, “Achaier(bund),” 13; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 383; Errington, Hellenistic World, 250–251; pace Briscoe, “Class Struggle,” 14–15. 101. E.g., Polyb. 24.10.8 with Walbank, “Polybius between Greece and Rome,” 7–8. Cf. Errington, Philopoemen, 202–204; Didu, La fine, 9–33 (“Il ‘tradimento’ di Callicrate”); J.-L. Ferrary, in I Greci: storia, cultura, arte, società, ed. S. Settis, vol. 2, pt. 3 (Turin: Einaudi, 1998), 819 (the “demonization” of Callicrates allowed Polybios to turn the blame away from the Romans); cf. C. B. Champion, in A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography, vol. 1, ed. J. Marincola (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 361 (on Callicrates as “Polybius’ political enemy”), and Champion, “Empire by Invitation,” 259, who, nevertheless, asserted “Callicrates’ complete submission to Roman authority.”

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What matters is that both camps in this debate agree that Callicrates highlighted the pro- and anti-Roman factions among the Achaean leadership, and in this way effectuated Rome’s commitment to her partisans from among the locals. But, first, the traditional interpretation of Callicrates’s steps derives from the misunderstanding of the Roman rôle in Greek affairs: in fact, it was the Romans who fostered, or furthered, the feuds of Greek politicians, thus provoking them to appeal to Rome and, in this way, establishing Roman control over Greek politics. Callicrates’s activities, therefore, resulted from Roman policy. And, second, Callicrates was only continuing the policy that had been started before him; it has been possible, therefore, to put Callicrates together with Hyperbatos and present both as having followed the trend adhered to by Aristaenos and Diophanes in the preceding period. At the same time, the situation in Achaea was similar to that found elsewhere in Greece, even though we happen to know more about Achaea thanks to Polybios’s account. For instance, some of the Boeotian politicians are known to have urged Flamininus to protect the Boeotian friends of Rome by having the boeotarch Brachylles killed. Thus Callicrates’s stance only reflected what was a general situation in Greece in the early second century, which the Romans used to their own advantage. The Roman policy also extended to all Greeks when it came to the deportation of Greek hostages to Italy following the Third Macedonian war: the Romans similarly deported hostages from other regions in Greece (such as Epirus and Aetolia), thus untying the hands of their supporters there and revealing that the Roman policy in Achaea was only a reflection of the overall Roman attitude toward the Greeks at that time. Quite predictably, after the Romans defeated Perseus, they continued to treat the Achaean League in the same way, in particular by approaching its members individually. Here, too, a parallel can be established with Rhodes, whose subjects, the Lycians and Carians, received individual treatment from the Romans following the end of the war. Gustav Lehmann proposed that Polybios “foresaw” the examination of the growth of Rhodian might as a “parallel” to his detailed treatment of

102. Niese, Geschichte, 3:59; Errington, Philopoemen, 202–204. 103. Niese, Geschichte, 3:59; Deininger, Widerstand, 135–137. Nor was Callicrates responsible for a change in Roman policy: Derow, “The Arrival of Rome,” 67. 104. Esp. Deininger, Widerstand, 135–136, 143, 175–177. 105. Polyb. 18.43.9. 106. See Fustel de Coulanges, Questions, 134–135, 170–171. 107. E.g., Polyb. 27.15.14, 32.5.6–7, with Deininger, Widerstand, 191, 195, 199–200, 213, 217 (“the ‘Great Purges’”). See also Liv. 45.34.9, 45.35.1; Zonar. 9.31.1. In a similar fashion, the Achaean hostages would later be returned, like hostages from other parts of Greece: Deininger, Widerstand, 214 n. 29. 108. Deininger, Widerstand, 199, 203, 208: the triumph of the “radical pro-Roman factions” in Greece.

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Achaean history, even though Lehmann was uncertain if Polybios truly thought of examining what Lehmann termed as “the Achaean politics of federalist integration in the Peloponnese” side by side with the “brutal force and the hegemonial régime of the republic of Rhodes.” But whereas the Achaean treatment of Sparta was as brutal as it could have been, recent studies have presented the Rhodians’ treatment of Lycia and Caria as more moderate than earlier acknowledged. And, as we shall see, just as they did with Rhodes, the Romans would later attempt to set as many members of the Achaean League free as possible. Meanwhile, C. Sulpicius Gallus and M.’ Sergius, who had earlier been dispatched by the senate to inquire into the activities of Antiochos and Eumenes, were expected in the mid160s or soon afterward to arbitrate a border dispute between two members of the Achaean League, Megalopolis and Sparta. Once the political opposition to Roman supporters had been removed from among the Achaean leadership, the situation in Achaea remained stable for about the next twenty years. This situation, rather than the state of our sources, explains why we do not hear anything worth noting during this period and why Greek hostages, including Achaeans, were finally allowed to return to Greece in 150, allegedly thanks to Cato’s intervention. During this time, C. Sulpicius Gallus was dispatched by the senate to arbitrate another dispute, this time between the Spartans and the Argives. The novelty of this situation was that Gallus turned the whole matter over to Callicrates. Gallus’s decision has been presented as an example of Roman non-interference in Achaean affairs, because of a lack of interest. However, Gallus’s mission shows first that, irrespective of whether the initiative for this arbitration was Roman or local, the Romans were arbitrating a dispute between two members of the Achaean League and, therefore, were interfering in this League’s internal affairs, over the heads of the Achaean leadership. Thus the Romans were adhering to the same policy they 109. Lehmann, Ansätze, 48–49. 110. See Grandjean, Messéniens, 226. 111. M. Zimmermann, “Bemerkungen zur rhodischen Vorherrschaft in Lykien (189/88–167 v.Chr.),” Klio 75 (1993): 110–130; A. Bresson, in Hellenistic Rhodes: Politics, Culture, and Society (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1999), 106–120. 112. Polyb. 31.1.6–8; Syll.3 665 (“post a. 164”). Galus, i.e., not “Gallus”: D. Allen Bowman, “Roman Ambassadors in the Greek East: 196 to 146 b.c.” (Ph.D. diss. Chapel Hill, 1987), 193–194; Didu, La fine, 76; pace Niese, Geschichte, 3:318 (“Gallus”), who dated this embassy to 165. 113. Polyb. 35.6.2 = Plut. Cato Mai. 9; Paus. 7.10.12. Cf. Janzer, Untersuchungen, 78–80; Badian, Clientelae, 112 (151). This episode offers another parallel with what happened to the Rhodians in the aftermath of the Third Macedonian war: the Rhodians were allegedly similarly saved by a speech of Cato (Liv. 45.25.2–3; Gell. 6.3). But see chapter 8. 114. Paus. 7.11.1–3; Gruen, “Origins,” 50–51. 115. Larsen, States, 485; Gruen, “Origins,” 50.

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had been pursuing from the early second century. Second, one could hardly imagine a better solution to the problem than the one suggested by Gallus: the Romans avoided any responsibility for the arbitration and rewarded their supporters, while at the same time they demonstrated their overall control over the Achaean League. The final decision still rested with the Romans: their refusal to arbitrate themselves does not deny, of course, the fact of Roman interference. In a similar fashion, Hellenistic kings, who entrusted the arbitration of such disputes to third parties, still retained the ultimate authority, which they demonstrated by, among other things, their choice of the arbitrator. When the Aetolians who lived at Pleuron expressed to Gallus their desire to secede from the Achaean League, he referred them to the senate, which granted their request. Pausanias said that the senators also authorized Gallus to detach as many cities as he could from the Achaean League. Those who think that the senate maintained a policy of non-interference have questioned the reliability of this story because “Pausanias alone mentions it” and because “Pausanias muddled the facts and anticipated events twenty years hence.” However, Pausanias explicitly states that Gallus was on a mission to Greece; if there was any “misunderstanding,” it was not that of Pausanias: Gallus (with M.’ Sergius) had arbitrated a similar dispute between Megalopolis and Sparta, while on his way to Asia in about 164–163. And one would need to come up with very strong arguments to prove that Pausanias, who had abundant evidence about the history and geography of Achaea at hand, either misinterpreted the facts or had a motive to fake a part of the story. It is surely worth noting that Polybios, who had his own prejudices against Gallus, did not mention this episode. Polybios’s text, indeed, speaks neither about Gallus’s arbitration between the Spartans and the Argives nor about his decision to entrust the whole matter to Callicrates, against whom Polybios carried a bias. Whether Polybios omitted the whole episode or whether this episode is simply missing

116. E.g., Welles, Correspondence, no. 3.29–30, 51–52, 57–61 (Lebedus and Teos, c.303 b.c.); see Ager, Arbitrations, 61–64; Welles, Correspondence, no. 7 = IG XII.6, 155 = Ager, Arbitrations, 89–93 (Priene and Samos, 283–282 b.c.); Tac. Ann. 4.43.1–3 = Ager, Arbitrations, 140–142 (Messenia and Sparta, c.222 b.c.). See also the treaty between Gortyn and Cnossus: IC IV (Gortyn), no. 181 (first half of second century b.c.) = Ager, Arbitrations, 356–359 (c.167 b.c.); Robert, OMS, 5:152–153, on such cases as “nombreaux témoignages de l’intervention des souverains.” 117. Paus. 7.11.1–3; Gruen, “Origins,” 51, 59. Nottmeyer’s chronological table (Polybios, 150) made no mention of Gallus’s mission. 118. Paus. 7.11.1. Niese, Geschichte, 3:319 n. 1 (“Dies muss Missverständnis sein”). Arbitration: Polyb. 31.1.6–8; Syll.3 665. 119. For example, Gruen, “Origins,” 50. 120. Badian, Clientelae, 91. Derow (“Embassy,” 17–23), whose view on Callicrates’s policy differed from that of Badian, did not dispute Badian’s opinion of Callicrates’s treatment by Polybios.

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from his surviving text we do not know. What we do know is that in speaking about further developments in the Achaean League, including the ultimatum presented to the Achaeans by the embassy of L. Aurelius Orestes in 147 (which we shall see below), Polybios denied the opinion (undoubtedly shared by many, if not most, of the Greeks) that Orestes’s pressure on the Achaeans resulted from Rome’s desire to dissolve their League. Similarly, the senatorial instructions to Gallus did not fit very well into the picture that Polybios tried to offer his readers, namely, that the future collapse of the Achaean League was due solely to the “madness” of its demagogues and frenzied social dregs. Therefore, although Pausanias happens to be our only source about this episode, this fact alone provides no grounds for refuting his evidence or downplaying its significance. Two more observations should not be overlooked. First, Pleuron, an Aetolian settlement, had been added to the Achaean League by the Romans after the Third Macedonian war: this Roman gift (probably conditioned by the Roman right to protect the “freedom” of Pleuron in the future, i.e., as the Romans had done in the case of Sparta and Messenia) hardly contributed to the concord inside the Achaean League. Second, Roman policy was the same elsewhere. For example, when the Athenians sacked Oropus in 158, the senators decided that an injustice had taken place. Eventually, by turning this case to Sicyon, they had a heavy fine (later reduced) imposed on Athens. Oropus has been acknowledged by modern scholars as having been an independent city from 171 to 158, and major discussions of the Athenian sack of Oropus have been based on the acknowledgment of the city’s independence. However, all the evidence we have about Oropus’s independence concerns its independence of the Boeotian Federation (which was either neutralized or dissolved by the Romans on the eve of the Third Macedonian war), which had nothing to do with the relations between this city and Athens. The only basis

121. Polyb. 38.9.1–8. 122. Niccolini, Confederazione, 144. Pace Ager, Arbitrations, 304: the Romans had no intention to arbitrate between Messenia and the Achaean League, precisely because Messenia was a member of this League. 123. E.g., J. Wiesner, “Oropos,” in RE 18.1 (1939): 1174; Bastini, Bund, 187; Hornblower, Commentary, 1:279 (with a brief but highly informative overview of sources and bibliography); Habicht, Athens, 264–265. 124. Larsen, States, 486–487; Gruen, “Origins,” 51–53; implied by A. Aymard, Les assemblées de la confédération achaienne: Étude critique d’institutions et d’histoire (Bordeaux: Féret & fils; Paris: De Boccard, 1938), 26–28. 125. See bibliographic references in n. 123 above. For the Boeotian Federation, see nn. 74–76 above. 126. Cf. Hornblower, Commentary, 1:279: “Even after it (i.e., Oropus) became independent for the second time in 171 it continued in dispute with Athens on its own account.”

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for claiming the independent status of Oropus in 158 appears to be a passage by Polybios, who describes the same situation—even if in a very general fashion—as does the above-mentioned part of Pausanias’s text. But Pausanias speaks unambiguously of Oropus as having been subject to Athens when it was sacked by the Athenians. Rome’s interference came, therefore, on behalf of a subject city and in return for that city’s direct appeal to the senate. Provided we accept that Oropus was subject to the Athenians when it was sacked by them, by interfering in Athens’ relations with Oropus and, furthermore, by requesting that Sicyon impose a fine on Athens (which probably implied Sicyon’s right to arbitrate in this conflict), the Romans undermined Athens’ control of her subject city, just as they had undermined the leading status of the Achaeans within their own League. An inscription by Oropus for Hieron, son of Telecleos, from Aegirae, who negotiated in this conflict, shows that the matter was debated by the general assembly of the Achaeans at Argos, which listened to the envoys from Athens and Oropus. A conclusion that by choosing Sicyon, the Romans left the decision to the entire Achaean League could well be correct. However, Pausanias says that Rome chose Sicyon to impose an appropriate fine on Athens and that after the Athenians did not appear in time for the trial, the Sicyonians imposed a fine of five hundred talents. The Sicyonians were solely responsible for the trial and the amount of the imposed fine, and the trial, therefore, probably took place in Sicyon. Could it be that the honorific inscription for Hieron, which mentions the Achaean assembly at Argos, and Pausanias’s story, which tells about Sicyon’s arbitration, reflect different stages of this trial? It is possible that the Roman choice of appointing a city that belonged to the Achaean League as an arbitrator in this conflict may also have been guided by certain political considerations, about which we know nothing. But, at any rate, the Romans were interacting directly with an individual member of the Achaean League, that is, over the head of the League’s leadership, continuing the Roman policy of interfering in the affairs of the Achaean League.

127. Polyb. 32.11.5; Paus. 7.11.4–5: Ἀθηναίων δὲ ὁ δῆμος διαρπάζουσιν Ὠρωπòν ὑπήκοόν σφισιν οὖσαν and καταφεύγουσιν οὖν ἐπὶ τὴν Ῥωμαίων βουλὴν οἱ Ὡρώπιοι. Cf. Habicht, Athens, 265, on the text of Pausanias as containing “some errors and misunderstandings,” without going into any specific details, however; Errington, Hellenistic World, 252: “Oropus became independent, but sometime later, around 158/7, it was pressured to attach itself to Athens. Subsequent dissatisfaction with its treatment by the Athenians induced the Oropians to appeal to Rome.” 128. Syll.3 675.12–13: δόξαντος δὲ τοˆι ς Ἀχαιοῖς συναγαγεˆι ν σύνκλητον ἐν῎Aργει περὶ τούτων (c.154–149). 129. Didu, La fine, 81. For σύγκλητος: Aymard, Les assemblées, 29–34; A. Giovannini, in MH 26 (1969): 1–17. 130. Paus. 7.11.4–5. 131. Pace Gruen, “Origins,” 51–52.

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When the senatorial instruction, issued to Gallus in 150, was made public, the Spartans became restless. Not surprisingly, the subsequent assault on Sparta by Diaios, the general of the Achaean League in 150–149, was based on the old regulation that constituent members of the League had no right to dispatch individual embassies to the Roman senate. The message was quite clear: if the Achaeans did not think it necessary to send an embassy to Rome, the Spartans were not expected to send theirs either. The risk remained the same as before: relying on Roman support, Sparta would make a separate appeal to the Romans, thus offering them another pretext for interference and arbitration. This new round of conflicts between the Spartans and the Achaeans ended in the traditional fashion: each side sent its own embassy to Rome. As before, the senate responded by promising to send a commission to investigate. However, the uprising of the pretender Andriscos in Macedonia delayed the whole matter. While awaiting the Roman envoys, the Achaeans extracted loyalty (eunoia) from several towns surrounding the Spartans’ territory and introduced their garrisons in those towns. The defeat of P. Iuventius Thalna by Andriscos in 149 probably made the Achaeans more determined to enforce their will on the rest of the Peloponnese. In the following year, Sparta declared her secession from the League. Q. Caecilius Metellus (Macedonicus), who arrived in Macedonia at the head of the Roman force to be engaged in the war against Andriscos in 148, requested that Roman envoys on their way to Asia urge the Achaeans to wait for a senatorial commission that would negotiate in their conflict with the Spartans. However, the Achaeans had already started a war against Sparta by that time, probably thinking that the continued Roman military engagement in Macedonia would detract Rome from what was taking place to the south. Indeed, Rome refrained from communicating with the Achaean League during these two years. After the rebellion of Andriscos had been put down, the senate issued a declaration that Sparta, Corinth, Argos, Heraclea by Mount Oeta, and Orchomenus were to secede from the Achaean League. In 147, Roman envoys, including L. Aurelius Orestes, appealed directly to the representatives of individual cities, once again, obviously, on the pretext of protecting their interests. The senate justified its resolution by stating that all these peoples were only later additions to the League. This explanation was hardly valid, since the Romans had already recognized their

132. Paus. 7.12.4–6. 133. Paus. 7.13.6. 134. Liv. per. 50. 135. War against Sparta: Polyb. 38.12.1; Paus. 7.15.1–2. Roman stance: e.g., Derow, “Fall,” 321. 136. Paus. 7.14.1, 7.15.2.

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membership in the Achaean League. Modern authors see the senate’s decision either as having been planned in advance (and, therefore, merely put off because of Andriscos’s uprising) or, more probably, as having been reached in connection with the uprising, which was followed by Rome’s new organization of Macedonia and, by extension, all of Greece. Generally, however, the Roman policy at this time, especially the message of secession brought by the embassy of Orestes in 147, has been presented as marking a new course in the interrelationship between Rome and the Achaean League. Rome’s direct support of Sparta has similarly been considered a new development: when Sparta seceded from the League, the Achaeans attacked the Spartans, which eventually led to Roman military intervention in the form of the Achaean war. However, Rome’s course of dismembering the Achaean League first emerged three years earlier, when Gallus supported Pleuron in its desire to secede from the League and then received the senate’s blessing for detaching as many members of the Achaean League as he could. The restlessness of Sparta in 150, which would eventually bring about an open conflict between the Achaean League and Rome, was likely caused by the publication of these instructions from the senators to Gallus. But we can regard even Gallus’s mission as only a continuation of Roman policy toward the Achaean League, which began before the Third Macedonian war and targeted individual members of that League. It is no wonder that, after listening to Orestes’s message, the Achaeans refused to accept what, in plain terms, meant the dissolution of their League. On later reflection, Polybios said that by giving instructions to Orestes, the senators “did not wish to dissolve (diaspasai) the League, but to alarm the Achaeans and to deter them from acting in a presumptuous and hostile manner.” This explanation could hardly have convinced the Greeks, and there is no indication that it came from the Romans. Polybios

137. Esp. Harris, War, 242. 138. First: Will, Histoire, 2:329. Second: Bernhardt, “Imperium,” 88–90 (dating the provincialization of Macedonia to 148); cf. Derow, “Fall,” 322. 139. Nottmeyer, Polybios, 112, 155; J. Briscoe, in Historia 18 (1969): 59; M. Gwyn Morgan, “Metellus Macedonicus and the Province Macedonia,” Historia 18 (1969): 435; Deininger, Widerstand, 239; Dahlheim, Gewalt, 125–126; Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 422; Grandjean, Messéniens, 229. Cf. Ager, Arbitrations, 408–409. 140. Polyb. 3.5.6. Nottmeyer, Polybios, 163. 141. Paus. 7.11.1–3 (see n. 117 above). As Derow, “Fall,” 320. 142. Horn, “Foederati,” 38; Niccolini, Confederazione, 174; Larsen, States, 466: “Rome would appreciate secession and dissolution of the Confederacy,” with reference to the Lentuli’s mission in 172 (Liv. 42.37.7; see n. 71 above). 143. Polyb. 38.9.6, followed by Gauger, “Achaier(bund),” 13–14. 144. Harris, War, 241 n. 2.

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offered this explanation by way of his retrospective interpretation that the demise of the Achaean League resulted from the recklessness of its leadership, which has been accepted by some modern commentators. To the Achaeans the Roman message was quite clear: an outburst of popular outrage resulted in the persecution, and murder, of the Spartans, some of whom sought to find refuge in the tents of Roman envoys. The envoys were allegedly mistreated during such attacks as well. Roman envoys were working with the Spartan representatives and, clearly, as if on behalf of protecting Sparta, which was a traditional Roman approach. Once the negotiations failed, the envoys left for Rome and accused the Achaeans of arrogance and maltreatment. This is reminiscent of the Romans’ recent punishment of Rhodian “arrogance,” which was still fresh in everybody’s memory: the treaty between Rome and Rhodes had only recently been established. Therefore, if such accusations were made against the Achaeans, they most likely carried not only personal but also political considerations. Even the vocabulary was the same: in Polybios’s words, the senators accused the Achaeans of a “mistake” (agnoia) and demanded the punishment of the authors of the offense (hamartia). A new senatorial commission was sent, led by Sextus Julius Caesar. It made no reference to any Achaean maltreatment of the previous Roman embassy, which suggests that there had been none, and, in the words of Polybios, used “the most courteous language.” Polybios’s view of the conciliatory nature of Caesar’s embassy has been accepted and repeated by many. However, what fits Polybios’s overall interpretation of the reasons for the eventual demise of the Achaean League does not necessarily reflect the actual state of things. Roman advice to the Achaeans “not to give any further offense either to the Romans or to the Spartans” suggests that the Roman “defense” of the Spartans remained the basis of Roman policy toward the Achaean League. Acting along these lines, the Romans invited the Spartans to join Caesar’s embassy at Tegea in a common action with respect to the Achaeans, that is, exactly the same as the previous embassy of Orestes had

145. E.g., Niese, Geschichte, 3:337–338; Bengtson, Geschichte5, 502; Gruen, “Origins,” 48–50; Derow, “Fall,” 322. For such views, see n. 171 below. 146. Liv. per. 52; cf. Strabo 8.6.23, p. C 381. 147. Cf. Spartan participation in Pulcher’s embassy: Paus. 7.9.4; cf. Liv. 39.37.14 (see n. 39 above). 148. Polyb. 38.9.1–3; Liv. per. 51. 149. Polyb. 30.31.20. See next note. 150. Polyb. 38.9.5. The Romans had used precisely the same language (agnoia, hamartia) with respect to the Rhodians following the Third Macedonian war: Polyb. 29.19.1–2, 30.31.9 and 14 (see p. 304, n. 132). 151. Polyb. 38.10.4–13. 152. E.g., Larsen, States, 489: “a conciliatory attitude”; Gwyn Morgan, “Metellus,” 436: this embassy “attempted conciliation”; Gruen, “Origins,” 58: “a remarkably mild response”; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 521: “gentle rebuke”; Harter-Uibopuu, Schiedsverfahren, 179: “a compromise.”

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done. The “most courteous language” did not change the Roman stance in any way: Sparta had to leave the Achaean League. Unwilling to comply with Roman demands, and probably fearing another outburst of violence, the Achaean general Critolaos broke down negotiations. The Roman treatment of the Achaean League, therefore, remained consistently provocative, as it had been for the entire time, beginning with the defeat of Antiochos III in 189. Rome pursued the same policy toward other states, as demonstrated by her intervention in the relationship between Rhodes and the Lycians: in 177, responding to complaints of the Lycians, the senate not only issued a pompous statement about Roman protection of the freedom of all those “who had been born in freedom” but also entrusted the Lycians with a letter that contained this statement, to be delivered to the Rhodians. Ten years later, the senate finally removed Rhodian control over Lycia. In a likely fashion, the Romans acknowledged the “autonomy” of the Galatians in 166, thus undermining the strength of the Attalid kingdom. In fact, the Roman attitude with respect to suspect Hellenistic monarchs was similarly consistent. For example, when Demetrios, the younger son of Philip V, came to Rome on an official visit in 184, he received a special welcome from the senate, and none other than Titus Flamininus raised his hopes of securing the Macedonian throne for himself, that is, in circumvention of his elder brother Perseus. And when Attalos, the younger brother of Eumenes II, visited Rome on an official mission in 167–166, Roman politicians gave him special treatment and privately offered him royal power, by proposing to establish a separate principality for him, obviously at the expense of the Attalid kingdom. The idea that Flamininus approached Demetrios on his own initiative has been firmly rejected by those who believe that Flamininus’s “policy” was an extension of that of the senate. Such episodes have been presented as reflecting “the

153. Polyb. 38.11.4–11; Paus. 7.14.4–5. Harris, War, 241–242. 154. Cf., e.g., Bowersock, review of Deininger, Widerstand, 577: “the provocative demand” of L. Aurelius Orestes. 155. The Lycians: Liv. 41.6.11–12. See chapter 8 for more detail. The Galatians: Polyb. 30.28; cf. Polyb. 30.30.6 (“freedom”). 156. Demetrios: Polyb. 23.2.1–11, 23.3.4–9 with Fr. Witek, Die “Bühne des Schicksals”: Demetrios von Makedonien in Historiographie und Drama (Salzburg: Horn, 2001), 11–25. Attalos: Polyb. 30.1–3; Liv. 45.19 with S. Dmitriev, “Attalus’ request for the cities of Aenus and Maronea in 167,” Historia 59 (2010): 106–114. 157. E.g., Niese, Geschichte, 3:31; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 358–361. 158. E.g., Mommsen, Geschichte9, 1:756; Ch. F. Edson Jr., in HSCP 46 (1935): 193, 200–201; Errington, Hellenistic World, 242–243; J. Briscoe, “Polybius, Livy, and the Disaster in the Macedonian Royal House,” in Corolla Cosmo Rodewald, ed. N. V. Sekunda (Gdansk: Foundation for the Development of Gdansk University, 2007), 117–118, even though he marked discrepancies between Polybios’s and Livy’s descriptions of this episode and noted that “Livy suppresses criticisms of Flamininus or remarks which appear to place him in bad light.”

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senatorial policy in the years following the Third Macedonian War of fostering divisions within Hellenistic states.” Erich Gruen attempted to downplay the significance of the episode with Demetrios (without discussing that of Attalos), by describing Roman policy toward Philip’s Macedonia after 196 as “gentle and generous,” “far from bellicose,” and “aimed at compromise,” so that even if the Roman senate adopted decisions that went against Philip’s interests, “Rome’s implementation of expressed wishes was decidedly negligent,” noting, however, at the same time, that the return of Demetrios from Rome “brought relief and joy to the Macedonians.” However, Rome obviously preferred to use diplomacy instead of military force so far and whenever she could. Roman arbitration between Philip and Greek cities, such as Moronea (which Philip would finally have to abandon) was conducted along the same lines as Roman arbitration between the Achaean League and the Greek cities of the Peloponnese. If Rome preferred to refrain from using force, she could still use it anytime she felt it necessary, as one can see in the case of both Macedonia and the Achaean League. Therefore, neither Roman arbitration nor Rome’s temporary abstention from using military force proves Roman good treatment. It is no wonder that this reconstruction of events ended up with the idea that what happened to Demetrios was the work of Tyche, which was also used to explain the collapse of the Achaean League—again following Polybios’s opinion, as we shall see shortly. In the face of this consistent Roman push, the Achaean reaction also remained consistent: the Romans were not welcomed to mediate in what the Achaeans considered to be their internal affairs. Critolaos then visited different cities of the Achaeans, to build support for his policy. Polybios’s language describing Critolaos and his actions is the same as he had used when speaking of the Rhodian ambassadors to the Romans in 168 and the behavior of the Rhodians during the war: Critolaos was also guilty of making a “mistake” and of “madness.” Pausanias likewise spoke of Critolaos’s “utterly unthinking passion to make war against the Romans.” Erich Gruen, who did not see the similarity in the Romans’ treatment of Rhodes and Achaea, explained the eventual collapse of the Achaean League as “a classic case of ἀτυχία,” again with reference to Polybios. However, Polybios’s 159. Briscoe, “Senatorial Politics,” 1107, 1119; Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 24–25. 160. Gruen, “Last Years of Philip V,” 227, 231, 233, 234, 237, 245. 161. Gruen, “Last Years of Philip V,” 239, 246 (see also n. 166 below). 162. Polyb. 38.11.1–6. 163. Polyb. 38.11.7–11; Paus. 7.14.5–7. 164. Polyb. 38.11.6, 38.13.8; Paus. 7.14.4. 165. Cf. the Rhodian embassy in 168: Polyb. 29.19.1–2; the behavior of the Rhodians: Polyb. 30.31.9, 14. 166. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 523.

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view of the rôle of Tyche has not been seen as firmly established. While in some instances Polybios seems to have considered Tyche as an independent force, which acted on its own, elsewhere he is thought to have viewed Tyche as reflecting on one’s attributes and qualities: Polybios’s Tyche “penalizes arrogance,” punishes wrongdoing, and emerges as “a binder of retribution.” It appears, therefore, that Polybios’s “Fate,” unlike that of Livy, is closely connected with, if not conditioned by, one’s personal qualities and actions, so that “Polybius did not really distinguish between τò δαιμóνιον and τύχη, and many instances are to be found in his history of Tyche punishing wrongdoing and sacrilege.” What is even more disturbing is that if we follow Polybios, it looks as if certain Greek politicians, and even whole Leagues, at times turned into madmen, and for some reason wanted to go to war against Rome. Polybios’s views have been shared by his modern colleagues, who eagerly described Greek politicians of that time as extremists or madmen. The populace appeared to have been surprisingly receptive to the speeches of such madmen. When the Boeotians backed Perseus, they behaved, in the words of Polybios, “inconsiderately” (paradoxos) and “unreasonably” (alogistos), so that the Romans effectively neutralized their Federation. Local assemblies and the general assembly of the Achaeans vehemently supported Critolaos. What did he tell them? As he was in his critique of Rhodian behavior in the time of the Third Macedonian war, here, too, Polybios is pleasingly vague: “[O]n the pretext that he wished to inform the people of the language he had used to the Spartans and the Roman envoys at Tegea,” Critolaos “in reality” accused the Romans and gave “the worst sense to all that they had said.” Pausanias did not bother to offer any explanation at all of Critolaos’s “madness.”

167. E.g., K. Ziegler, “Polybios,” in RE 21.2 (1952): 1540–1541; K. Meister, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1990), 158–159. 168. E.g., Ziegler, “Polybios,” 1534–1536; Walbank, Commentary, 1:20–21. 169. Walbank, Commentary, 1:20 n. 6, 20–21, 147. See also F. W. Walbank, “Polybius,” in Latin Historians, ed. T. A. Dorey (New York: Basic Books, 1966), 57–58; F. W. Walbank, in A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography, ed. J. Marincola, vol. 1 (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 350–352, 354. 170. Tränkle, Livius, 95–98, and Stylianou, Commentary, 12, respectively. Pace Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” 246, on the alleged contradiction between Polybios’s references to Roman successes as resulting from the “superiority of institutions, training, and experience” or from Roman tyche. 171. E.g., Cary, History2, 204; Bengtson, Geschichte5, 502; Walbank, “Polybius,” 42; Eckstein, Vision, 219, 267; Champion, Cultural Politics, 166–168. 172. Polyb. 27.2.10. For the fate of this Federation, see nn. 74–76 above. 173. Local assemblies: Polyb. 38.11.7–11. The general assembly: Polyb. 38.12.2–11; Paus. 7.14.5. 174. Polyb. 38.11.7–9.

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The way in which Polybios described events in Achaea again raises the old question about his own stance. Polybios obviously spoke on behalf of all of Greece, or in the interests of all the Greeks, as his chronological references demonstrate. It is hard, however, to see him as a “historian-‘citoyen’” (at least, in the sense that has been attributed to this phrase), because his pro-Greek stance was profoundly influenced by his own political views and (secondary to this) by his conscious accommodation of Roman interference in Greek affairs. On the one hand, Greek public opinion about the rôle of Rome in Greece was divided: some Greeks appealed to Rome against other Greeks, thus securing a place in Greek affairs for the Romans; while the populace seems to have had an anti-Roman sentiment (which was fed by the old and popular view separating the Greeks from the “barbarians”), certain Greek politicians and intellectuals, including Polybios, were trying to forge various forms of common policy with the Romans. On the other hand, such views were hardly limited to the Romans. For example, Polybios displays the same positive attitude toward Philip II’s rule over Greece, which has been explained by “the liberal and attractive model of Philip’s hegemony” or by Philip’s kind treatment of Megalopolis. However, what seems to have mattered to Polybios was the stability and unity of the Greek world that Philip created. Of the two opposite views about Philip’s rôle in Greek history, the positive one praised him for being the “author of Greek freedom”—for securing peace among the Greeks and bringing them together against external dangers and treating them all equally and magnanimously—whereas when given the chance, Greek city-states always tried to advance their own position, thus failing to work for the “common freedom” of all the Greeks. Polybios’s lament that “while many have attempted in the past to induce the Peloponnesians to adopt a common policy, no one ever succeeding, as each was working not in the cause of general liberty (tes koines eleutherias), but for his own aggrandizement,” can be extended to those elsewhere in Greece as well.

175. Interests of all Greeks: e.g., Polyb. 2.7.4, 2.71.1–2. His chronological references: e.g., Polyb. 1.6.2, 3.22.1–2. 176. E.g., G. A. Lehmann, “The ‘Ancient’ Greek History in Polybios’ Historiae: Tendencies and Political Objectives,” SCI 10 (1989–1990): 69 (with further references). 177. Esp. Fustel de Coulanges, Questions, 121–211; Ziegler, “Polybios,” 1558–1560, focusing, first of all, on Polybios’s attitude to the Roman war against the Achaean League; P. Friedlander, in AJP 66 (1945): 346; A. M. Eckstein, “Polybios, Syracuse, and the Politics of Accommodation,” GRBS 26 (1985): 265–282. 178. E.g., Polyb. 18.14.5–9, 15. F. W. Walbank, “Polemic in Polybius,” JRS 52 (1962), 2; Lehmann, “Greek History,” 72, 77; Champion, Cultural Politics, 151. 179. Polyb. 9.33.6: the Acarnanian Lyciscos at the negotiations in 211 or 210 b.c.; and the opposite view by the Aetolian Chlaeneas (18.14.1–6). Both obviously reflected the two sides of Greek public opinion about Philip, who was by then a distant historical figure, and, as so often happens, politics turned to rhetoric. For these attitudes toward Philip, see also p. 91, n. 143. 180. Polyb. 2.37.9; cf., e.g., Arist. Polit. 4.11.9, 1296b.1–2.

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Nor was it just about Megalopolis: Polybios’s positive outlook on Roman policy in Greece suggests that his stance was not merely reflective of parochial interests. The Achaean revolt and the uprising in Macedonia were “a general disaster” for the Greeks because they continued along the same lines of separatism and fratricide. This infighting was stopped by the Romans, so that in Polybios’s own times (en tois kath’ hemas kairois), the whole Peloponnese had become prosperous and united. Polybios is also conscious of distinguishing between the relationship among the Greeks on the one hand, and between the Greeks and an outside dominant force (such as Philip II or the Romans) on the other. He is cognizant that the Romans are the masters of Greece. It is true, of course, that “Polybius’ intended audience was made of political men; his avowed purpose was to prepare such men for political action in the real world.” It is also true that in Polybios’s time the “real world” was under Roman domination. As a sensible statesman, Polybios had to establish priorities: for him, peace and freedom among the Greeks was worth more than the domination of Greece by the Romans, who could work out some sort of arrangement with local Greek politicians. For this reason, he believed that going directly against Rome was “madness.” Therefore, Polybios’s desire to accommodate the reality of Roman domination, which was reflective of the opinion of some of his Greek contemporaries, was only a part of his (and their) overall view: the ultimate purpose was peace, stability, and freedom in Greece. If this was to be achieved only under Roman rule, Polybios conceded to this rule and tried to influence the Roman stance as best as he could. This does not mean, of course, that Polybios encouraged subservience to Rome. However, the benefits of Roman rule accrued when Greeks were more compliant with it, thus playing into the hands of the Romans as well. To define Polybios’s stance strictly as an attempt to maintain the balance of power would be an oversimplification. The Romans themselves would bring 181. Polyb. 3.5.6 (to koinon atychema) and 2.37.10–11, respectively. 182. E.g., Polyb. 3.4.2–13, 21.16.8, 21.23.4. 183. Eckstein, “Politics of Accommodation,” 265. 184. E.g., F. W. Walbank, review of Greek Historiography, ed. S. Hornblower (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), Histos 1 (1997): para. 2; J. Davidson, review of Eckstein, Vision, JRS 88 (1998): 191–192. 185. Cf. Polyb. 39.8. 186. Here, as well as on several general matters, I agree with Eckstein, “Politics of Accommodation,” 273 (“he accepts cooperation with Rome out of political necessity, combining this with a countervailing stress on avoiding unnecessary capitulating to Roman power”), 281, even though I disagree with him on a few particular details and on the rôle of the topic of freedom in Greek politics, as reflected by Polybios; see, e.g., pp. 277 (on “irrational politicians”) and 281–282 (leaving out Perseus’s propaganda of Greek unity and Greek freedom). 187. So also, e.g., Eckstein, “Politics of Accommodation,” 271–272, who argued, however, from different premises.

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forward this interpretation of the Greek stance as a form of accusation against the Greeks, as they did, for example, in the case of the Rhodians. The same idea was likely to be discussed by Achaean politicians in their debates about whether the Achaeans should help Rome against Perseus. However, these occasions did not merely reflect a desire of some Greeks to prevent any political power from becoming too strong. Both the Rhodians and the Achaeans had constructed their relations with Rome from the premise of protecting the interests and freedom of all the Greeks. Polybios was advocating a similar stance, except that he had no place for Greek freedom: in his view, the fight for freedom had weakened Greece and would lead to the fall of the Achaean League. Peace among the Greeks (and, therefore, their freedom) only appeared under Roman rule. Hence the vision behind Polybios’s approach to Roman rule as salutary for the entire Greek world. According to Pausanias, near the enclosure sacred to Lycaean Zeus in Megalopolis, there was a relief with the image of Polybios accompanied by elegiac verses saying that Polybios “became the ally of the Romans and stayed their wrath against the Greek nation (to Hellenikon).” “Whenever the Romans obeyed the advice of Polybios,” continues Pausanias, “things went well with them, but they say that whenever they would not listen to his instructions they made mistakes.” Elsewhere, in the “sanctuary of the Mistress” close to Acacesium, there appears to have been another relief with the image of Polybios, accompanied by the words that “Greece would have never fallen at all, if she had obeyed Polybios in everything.” There was also a statue of Polybios in Pallantium and another marble slab with his image in Tegea. Arcadia, of course, took special pride in her son: Pausanias makes no mention of Polybios while narrating the history of other regions of Greece. However, the way he refers to Polybios reflects if not a popular attitude toward Polybios’s stance, then at least the message that Polybios tried to convey to all: compromise and cooperation with the Romans were essential for the stability and safety of Greece under Roman rule. Pausanias’s contemporaries, Plutarch and Dio, who were both engaged in local politics, followed along the same lines. Plutarch reminded his fellow Greek politicians about the boot of the Roman soldier over their heads, in this way urging them to be moderate in public life, whereas both he and Dio spoke of the Greeks as “naughty children” who needed their Roman masters to bring them to order. When giving instructions to young politicians, Plutarch also praised peace, both among the Greeks and on the borders, saying

188. E.g., Liv. 42.46.4 and Cato fr. 164 = Gell. 6.3.16 (see p. 298, nn. 93 and 96, respectively). 189. E.g., Polyb. 28.6.4–8 (see n. 92 above). 190. Paus. 8.30.8 and 8.37.2. 191. Paus. 8.44.5, 8.48.8. See also 8.9.1–2.

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that “the best thing is to see to it in advance that factional discord shall never arise” among the Greeks and that “the greatest blessings that cities can enjoy are peace, freedom, prosperity, populousness, and concord. As far as peace is concerned the people have no need of political activity, for all war, both Greek and foreign, has been banished, and has disappeared from among us. Of freedom the people enjoy as much as our rulers allot them, and perhaps more would not be better.” Plutarch also noted that “the Romans themselves are most eager to promote the political interests of their friends; and it is a fine thing also, when we gain advantage from the friendship of great men, to turn it to the welfare of our community, as Polybios and Panaetios, through Scipio’s good will toward them, conferred great benefits upon their fatherlands.” One can hardly label this position “Machiavellian.” Arthur L. Burd, whose article remains the most detailed examination of what ancient texts Machiavelli might have used as sources for his Art of War, singled out the work of Polybios only twice: once in connection with Machiavelli’s reference to the Roman war against Carthage (Polybios, Book 1), and, again, for the organization and equipment of the Roman army and of the Macedonian phalanx (Polybios, Book 6). It is uncertain, however, if Machiavelli relied on the text of Polybios even in such cases. Machiavelli never makes a single reference to Polybios, whereas Polybios was primarily known, and used, as the source for the history of Greece and the Greco-Roman relationship; for information about the Punic war and the organization of the Roman army, Machiavelli could easily have relied on some other ancient text(s), which either had or had not used the work of Polybios as their original source. Similar observations can, and should, be extended to other works by Machiavelli, which never mention the name of Polybios. Hence attempts, such as the one by Sasso, to establish parallels between the works of Polybios and Machiavelli neither did nor could go beyond conjecture. Momigliano, who still acknowledged Polybios as one of Machiavelli’s sources, conceded that “[Machiavelli’s] actual use of Polybios’s texts (never explicitly quoted) is very restricted”; and Millar has summed the essence of the problem by saying that “it remains tantalizingly uncertain

192. Plut. Praec.ger.reip. 17, 813e, with C. P. Jones, Plutarch and Rome (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 133. Greeks as “naughty children”: see p. 367, n. 81. Plut. Praec.ger.reip. 32, 824c and 17, 814cd, respectively. 193. L. Arthur Burd, “Le fonti letterarie di Machiavelli nell’ ‘Arte della guerra,’” Atti della R. Accademia dei Lincei, ser. 5, Cl. di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche, vol. 4 (1896 [1897]): 188, 210. 194. Burd, “Le fonti letterarie,” 191–196, 206, 208, 221–222, 229–231. 195. Cf., e.g., Burd, “Le fonti letterarie,” 211 (Liv. 28.14.5 = Polyb. 11.22), 222 (Polybios as “the principal authority” of Livius, from whose text Machiavelli derived his information), 230, and 231 (the text of Polybios does not have everything that we see in the work of Machiavelli). 196. Gennaro Sasso, Studi su Machiavelli (Naples: A. Morano, 1967), 161–280.

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whether Machiavelli’s discussion of Rome was informed by Polybius’ analysis or not.” In this situation, any claim that Machiavelli used the text of Polybios to substantiate his own observations remains questionable at the very least. Even more important, Polybios’s work has consistently been used by those who tried to uphold morality in (early) modern politics, which leaves no place for Machiavelli’s theoretical constructions. As Critolaos was inciting the Achaeans and other Greeks to “madness,” according to Polybios, Metellus (Macedonicus) sent his own envoys to the Achaeans. Amazingly, they happened to arrive just in time for the general assembly of the Achaeans. What we do not see in the text of Polybios, however, is that the Romans had already dispatched a military force against the Achaeans, both naval and infantry, under the command of L. Mummius (cos. 146), and that Metellus started to march with his army from Macedonia to the south, trying to deal with the Achaeans before the arrival of Mummius. Whether this silence should be explained by a lacuna in Polybios’s text remains a suggestion at best. Elsewhere Polybios implies that Metellus was moving to the south as part of his plan. In the words of Polybios, Metellus’s envoys put forward the same “conciliatory terms” that had been offered by Caesar and other legates at Tegea, while simultaneously “employing every effort to prevent the Achaeans from proceeding to acts of declared hostility toward Rome.” In plain terms, the Achaeans received the same message from Rome as before, that Sparta and several other states should leave the Achaean League, while the Achaeans themselves were expected to remain friendly to the Romans. This was another Roman provocation. Since the Spartans were just a tool of the Romans, the Achaean conflict with the Spartans could be easily presented as the conflict of the Achaean League with Rome. This is precisely what Polybios does by saying that the war, which Critolaos had urged the

197. A. Momigliano, Essays in Ancient and Modern Historiography (Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1977), 83 and 88, respectively. F. G. B. Millar, The Roman Republic in Political Thought (Hanover, N.H., and London: University Press of New England, 2002), 72 (even though formally following Momigliano). 198. I. Casaubon, Polibio, ed. G. F. Brussich (Palermo: Sellerio, 1991), 92, 94, 98, 100, 108, 112; A. Momigliano, Storia e storiografia antica (Bologna: Mulino, 1987), 314; G. Chinard, in Journal of the History of Ideas 1 (1940): 38–58; R. M. Gummere, The American Colonial Mind and the Classical Tradition: Essays in Comparative Culture (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1963), 174–178. 199. Polyb. 38.12.1–11; Paus. 7.15.1–2; Zonar. 9.31.2. Niccolini, Confederazione, 196. 200. Walbank, Commentary, 3:705 (ad Polyb. 38.12.1): between 38.11.11 and 38.12.1. E.g., Polyb. 38.13.9. 201. Polyb. 38.12.2–3; Paus. 7.15.2. Cassius Dio (21.72.1) put all these Roman missions together as having the same aim: “to disrupt the Greek alliance in some manner, so that the members might be weaker.” 202. Pace Cary, History2, 204 (“Metellus sent a conciliatory message from Macedonia”) and, quite expectedly, Gruen, whose interpretation has been that of Polybios: “Origins,” 63, and Gruen, Hellenistic World, 521 n. 199.

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Achaeans to declare, was “nominally against Sparta but really against Rome.” This view corresponds to the overall interpretation of the Achaean war that Polybios, helped by some modern authors, tries to convey to his readers. Still, there is no reason to think that the Achaeans expected to fight against the Romans at this time, and several observations allow us to question Polybios’s overall interpretation of what was going on. First, Polybios consistently presents the people who supported Critolaos and jeered at the Roman envoys, as rabble, a “pack of artisans and common men.” Many have accepted this view as correct: Fustel de Coulanges spoke of “the popular party” and “the aristocracy,” which were inclined toward Macedonia and Rome, respectively; Max Cary saw them as “the revolutionary element, whose chief strength lay in the proletariat of Corinth”; whereas Jürgen Deininger considered the polloi to have been members of the “lower stratum” as opposed to political élites. However, this same “rabble” approved Perseus’s panhellenic views, which likely included the slogan of Greek freedom, and upheld the Rhodian stance in the Third Macedonian war only a quarter of a century earlier. Even prior to that, as Polybios and Appian narrate, the “multitude” of the Aetolians had shouted down P. Sulpicius Galba at the conference of 208, while supporting speeches that decried the discord among the Greeks as being conducive to the enslavement of Greece by Rome. Both authors make it clear that the plethos was composed of the members of the Aetolian assembly. Then, a few years afterward, the “multitude” refused to negotiate with Rome, while endorsing Antiochos’s claim to “restore the affairs of Greece to their former glory” on the basis of “freedom” (libertas), insisting that the Romans “should not even be admitted” to the pan-Aetolian council. Now the idea of “Greek freedom” emerged once again. Critolaos declared that he did not want the Romans to be his masters (despotai), thus pointing to the menace of Roman slavery over all Achaea, and that those most dangerous to the Achaeans were not the Spartans or the Romans but those “among ourselves” who cooperated with the “enemy” by favoring the Romans and Spartans over “our own interests.” Nothing suggests that only the “social dregs” were proponents of such views. Polybios himself shows that the views

203. Polyb. 38.13.6 and 8 (see n. 215 below), again followed by Gauger, “Achaier(bund),” 14. 204. Polyb. 38.11.9: τοˆι ς ὄχλοις, 38.11.11: τὸ πλῆθος, 38.12.2: τὰ πλήθη, 38.12.4: οἱ πολλοί, 38.12.5: πλῆθος ἔργαστηριακῶν καὶ βαναύσων ἀνθρώπων, 38.12.10: τοὺς ὄχλους. 205. Fustel de Coulanges, Questions, 158; Cary, History2, 204; Deininger, Widerstand, 18–19, 101–102, 107, 159–160, 183, 218–219, 217–241; see also Niccolini, Confederazione, 192–193. 206. Perseus: e.g., Liv. 41.24.19; Polyb. 27.2.10 (on the Boeotian support to Perseus). 207. Polyb. 20.10.14–15; App. Mac. 3 (on P. Sulpicius Galba). 208. Liv. 35.32.10 and 35.33.1, supposedly a translation from Polybios: Holleaux, Études, 5:386. 209. Polyb. 38.12.8–38.13.3.

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expressed by Critolaos were shared by the majority of the Achaeans who attended the general assemblies of the League, while those who would later be executed by L. Mummius included “cavalrymen” from Chalcis. Therefore, Critolaos’s followers cannot be delimited according to class distinctions. Second, Critolaos received enthusiastic support from beyond the Peloponnese: the Boeotians, Phocians, Euboeans, Locrians, Chalcis, and several Greek cities held a common cause with the Achaeans. His words that some kings and states shared his designs were not mere bragging. The reason for this common movement certainly was not that the Greeks wanted the Achaeans to dominate the Peloponnese, or that they were so reckless as to go openly against the Romans. Critolaos’s declaration urged the Greeks to act together for the purpose of maintaining their freedom, and found a wide response. The “frenzy” of the Achaeans was due to the slogan of freedom: in the words of Florus, who probably relied on earlier accounts of the Achaean war, Critolaos “used against the Romans the freedom which they themselves had granted.” The Greeks thus, once again, tried to hold the Romans to their word. Polybios, who says nothing of all of this, is clearly uncomfortable when he has to narrate what was going on. Judging by what we know of his text, instead of describing the common cause of the Greeks, Polybios refers to the “common misfortune” of the Greeks, who “brought on their heads all this trouble.” Finally, in practical terms, Critolaos upheld the freedom of the Achaeans by besieging the Heracleans – they refused to stay in the Achaean League and probably expected help from Metellus, who was then moving with his army to the south. There is no evidence that Critolaos was planning a military action against 210. Polyb. 38.12–13, 39.6.5. See A. Fuks, in JHS 90 (1970): 86–88; Derow, review of Deininger, Widerstand, 305–310; G. A. Lehmann, in ZPE 51 (1983): 244; Ferrary, “Rome, les Balkans,” 762: “οἱ πολλοὶ, τὸ πλῆθος, as well as οἱ ὄχλοι do not necessarily bear a social significance, which is evident enough in plebs, and often simply designate the majority of those who emerge from the midst of an assembly” with similar interpretations of this word by B. D. Hoyos, “Polybius’ Roman οἱ πολλoί in 264 b.c.,” LCM 9.6 (1984): 93 and E. Parmentier-Morin, “Recherches sur le vocabulaire politique d’Aristote: demos et plethos dans la Constitution d’ Athènes et dans le livre III de la Politique,” Ktèma 29 (2004), 99, 104. The understanding of the same words (plethos, polloi) is also likely to have differed geographically and chronologically; cf. W. P. Merrill, in CQ 41 (1991): 16–25, who was “unable to find convincing evidence to support the meaning of to plethos as ‘federal assembly’” (20) in Greek sources of the fifth century and early fourth century. It could well be, therefore, that such references by Polybios reflected “further Greek appeals to Roman conservative class prejudices”: Champion, “Empire by Invitation,” 262, 269. However, the evidence about the spread of such opinions among different social groups as well as about the eventual punishment meted out by the Romans to people of different social status in Achaea and elsewhere in Greece suggests that Polybios’s vocabulary reflected rather his attempt to present the anti-Roman movement as having been limited to only those who were uneducated and irrational. 211. Paus. 7.14.6, 7.15.3–4; Liv. per. 52; Oros. 5.3.3; Niccolini, Confederazione, 195–196. 212. Polyb. 38.12.11. 213. Flor. 1.32.2: qui libertate a Romanis data adversus ipsos usus est. Polyb. 38.3.9–11.

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the Romans. Polybios himself reports that Critolaos’s and Diaios’s opinion was that the Romans would refrain from any direct interference in Achaean affairs, owing to their gratitude for what the Achaeans had done for Rome. This opinion certainly contradicts Polybios’s own words that the Achaeans declared a war “nominally against Sparta, but really against Rome,” and that “Critolaos . . . set himself to intrigue against and attack the Romans.” This opinion would be understandable, however, if the Achaean stance was rooted in the slogan of Greek freedom, which postulated that Greek affairs were to be settled by the Greeks. No wonder, then, that Critolaos appears to have been surprised when his forces were threatened by the advance of Metellus’s army. But Critolaos’s siege of Heraclea was an open challenge to Roman control over the Greeks and, therefore, a display of freedom of action, which the Romans could not tolerate. The victory over the Achaeans by Q. Caecilius Metellus at Thermopylae followed and then, at Scarpheia in Locris, when Critolaos disappeared and would never be seen again. After (what we might think of as) the death of Critolaos, the generalship of the League was temporarily handed over to Diaios, who would be formally acknowledged in office by the Achaean assembly in the summer of 146. The measures that Diaios undertook in anticipation of an imminent Roman offense were obviously not enough. His forces were soon defeated by L. Mummius. Mummius certainly presented himself as the author of Greek freedom. Parallels with 196 were too obvious to be missed. Like Flamininus, Mummius visited numerous Greek cities, which expressed their gratitude to him. His dedications,

214. Polyb. 38.10.9–13. 215. Polyb. 38.13.6 and 8, followed by, e.g., Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 424, and C. B. Champion, in HSCP 102 (2004 [2005]): 204 (“the disastrous Achaean War against Rome”). This time Polybios’s explication has turned out to be a stretch even for Gruen (Hellenistic World, 522): “the clash with Rome had been unforseen by Achaea, the calamitous results unexpected and unplanned”; cf. 523 n. 206: “Polybius’ view, modified and distorted so as to pin blame on Greek demagogues.” It would be interesting to examine Polybios’s attempt to accommodate (i.e., to provide his interpretation of) Roman policy in Greece in the 150s and 140s as the real reason he would eventually continue his History beyond its originally established chronological limit. 216. Paus. 7. 15.3; Polyb. 38.14.3 (= Oros. 5.3). J. Deininger, in Philologus 113 (1969): 287–291: if two fragments of Polybios’s text (38.16.11 and 12) refer not to Diaios but to Critolaos, then the latter and the Achaeans had neither a desire to fight against the Romans nor a plan for such a military campaign. Pace Deininger, Widerstand, 222, 224: Diaios and Critolaos were pursuing an anti-Roman policy even before the summer of 147. 217. See Nottmeyer, Polybios, 146–149. 218. Critolaos: Paus. 7.15.4; Vir. Ill. 60.1; Zonar. 9.31.2. Diaios: Polyb. 38.15.2–3, 38.17.1. 219. Polyb. 38.15.1–11; A. Fuks, in JHS 90 (1970): 79–84; Deininger, Widerstand, 235. 220. Critolaos: Paus. 7.15.4; Vir. Ill. 60.1; Zonar. 9.31.2. Diaios: Polyb. 38.15.2–3, 38.17.1. 221. E.g., Zonar. 9.31.3. 222. Polyb. 39.6.1–5; I.Olympia 319 = Syll.3 676; F. Münzer, “L. Mummius (7a),” in RE 16.1 (1933): 1202.

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all in Greek, are known in many cities as well. Also similar to Flamininus, Mummius followed his “liberation” of the Greeks by changing their “constitutions” where necessary, likewise on the basis of property qualification. He even refrained from enriching himself by participating in the spoilage of Corinth: the spoils that he carried away from that city, he would dedicate at Delphi, Olympia, and elsewhere. Irrespective of whether Mummius consciously modeled his behavior on that of his famous predecessor, Mummius’s activities were an obvious continuation of the policy inaugurated by Flamininus (with the senatorial blessing) at Corinth in 196. The Achaean war, including the destruction of Corinth, rounded off this period of Greco-Roman relations: it took the Romans fifty years to convert the Greek slogan of freedom into the pax Romana in Greece.

c onclusion Provided the Achaean war is examined within the broader context of relations between the Achaeans and Rome after the Antiochian war, it would be hard to deny that the Achaean war made up only one part of a consistent Roman policy that was aimed at undermining the unity and strength of the Achaean League. Whether the Romans wanted to dissolve the League or simply weaken it by depriving it of Messenia, Sparta, and other important territories (which corresponds with Polybios’s interpretation) is a rhetorical question. Rome would always choose to rule through her partisans from among the locals and through arbitration, insofar as the use of military force was not required. Individual circumstances—including the Third Macedonian war (which left Rome as the undisputed master of Greece) or the revolt of Andriscos (which temporarily focused Roman attention on Macedonia)—added different dimensions to Roman policy, which was constantly being adjusted to the current situation, but did not affect its

223. E.g., IG V.2, 77 (Tegea); IG VII 433 (Oropus), 1808 (Thespiae), 2478–2478a (Thebes); Paus. 5.10.5, 5.24.4. 224. Cf. Liv. 34.51.4–6 (Flamininus) and Paus. 7.16.9 (Mummius; see n. 237 below). Whether this was a temporary measure has been debated: cf. Kallet-Marx, Hegemony, 70, and Deshours, “Institutions,” 135. 225. Liv. per. 52; Polyb. 39.6.1–3; Cic. De Off. 2.76; Cic. Verr. 2.1.55; Vir.Ill. 60.2; cf. Strabo 8.6.23, p. C 381. 226. The spoils: e.g., Paus. 7.16.8; Liv. per. 51. Dedications: Polyb. 39.6.1; CIL I2 626–632. 227. Pace Gruen, “Origins,” which remains the most detailed treatment of this problem but does not go beyond the Third Macedonian war; cf. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 523: in 146, “the Republic intervened out of exasperation and ire, its decisions made ad hoc after long foot-dragging, certainly not a calculated design to bring Hellas into submission.” Gruen’s views do not seem to have received any notable support; see Hellenistic World, 520 n. 193. 228. First: Deininger, Widerstand, 226. Second: Gruen, “Origins,” 48–50; Derow, “Fall,” 322. 229. E.g., D.C. 21.72.2.

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consistency: the Romans always preferred to approach members of the Achaean League individually. The analysis of Achaeo-Roman relations in the period from 189 to 146 reveals obvious similarities in the policies of the Achaeans on the one side, and the Romans on the other. Both parties used the slogan of freedom: the Romans acted as if they were protecting the freedom of individual members of the Achaean League, which allowed them to interact with the individual members, in circumvention of the League’s council, and to set them up against the League’s authorities. This consistent Roman stance, which we see not only in Achaea but also elsewhere, undermines the idea that the Romans were not necessarily pursuing a policy of the “political atomization of Greece.” It is certainly true that “Flamininus and the senatorial commission had not hesitated previously to turn over ‘freed’ cities, and even whole ‘freed’ regions, to Rome’s Greek allies.” But Rome still reserved for herself the right to interfere in the affairs of the Greeks, by claiming to protect their freedom and dealing separately with each of their entities. The Achaeans behaved as if they were defending freedom that was only for the Greeks and in the interests of the Greeks as a whole, which, in practical terms, meant the freedom to force the cities of the Peloponnese into the Achaean League and to break local alliances: Sparta lost coastal cities, and Messenia was deprived of several of its own allies, which were admitted in the Achaean League on an individual basis. In the words of Pausanias, after the war the Romans temporarily suspended the Achaean League and several other koina, but then allowed them to be resurrected again as if “out of pity for Greece.” However, Roman pity, quite like Roman “philhellenism,” had its well-defined limits. Neither those who argue for the survival of the Achaean League nor those who believe that it was temporarily dissolved (and these opinions are not mutually exclusive, of course) have paid any notable attention to the problem of the different nature of the Achaean League before and after the Third Macedonian war. Additionally, by the time it was resurrected, the Romans had already reorganized the administration of Greek

230. As already Montesquieu, Considerations, 71. 231. Eckstein, Senate, 304; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 303–304. 232. Polyb. 23.17.1–2. 233. Paus. 7.16.9–10. 234. E.g., Th. Schwertfeger, Der Achaiische Bund von 146 bis 27 v. Chr. (Munich: Beck, 1974), 20–26; Dahlheim, Gewalt, 125; Bastini, Bund, 218; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 525. 235. E.g., Larsen, States, 489; A. Aymard, in CP 45 (1950): 97; Kallet-Marx, Hegemony, 77–78. 236. But see D. W. Baronowski, in Klio 70 (1988): 457, and E. Badian, “Mummius (RE 7a, vol. 16. 1192ff.), Lucius,” in OCD3, 1000: Mummius “dissolved the confederacy as a political unit.”

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cities and introduced governments based on property qualifications. Macedonia had been reorganized in a similar fashion: the Roman gift of “freedom” to the Macedonians, which we hear about from more than one source, in fact meant undermining the unity of Macedonia and, therefore, her military strength, that is, just like what happened to the Achaeans. Such policies were conducted from the overall premise, which was repeated by Q. Fabius Maximus in a letter to Dyme soon after the destruction of Corinth: the Romans gave freedom to the Greeks. It is this claim of being the authors of Greek freedom that allowed the Romans not only to use force against the Greeks but also to introduce various administrative and political rearrangements affecting the organization of Greek Leagues, including that of the Achaeans. Nor did the Romans abandon their stance of interfering in the internal affairs of these Leagues, and of dealing directly with their individual members. Immediately after the end of the war, the Roman consul negotiated with individual Achaean cities. The reorganization of the Achaean League did not change, therefore, the principles of Roman dealings with the Greeks, which, as before, targeted individual cities and “tribes.” Here, too, the Romans followed in the footsteps of their predecessors: the Spartan demand for the “autonomy” of Athenian allies and of Boeotian cities in the late fifth century and early fourth century ; the policy of promoting the “autonomy” and “freedom” of individual Greek political entities by Philip II and Alexander III in the latter half of the fourth century; and the individual approach by Roman generals to members of the Achaean League in the first part of the second century—all of this made the dissolution of Greek alliances as such unnecessary. Being weakened from within by the “autonomy” of their members, or being effectively neutralized by the slogan of freedom, these alliances lost their military significance and plunged into quarrels and arguments among themselves, thus offering the Romans an opportunity to control them through arbitration, without necessarily using force.

237. Paus. 7.16.9: ἀπὸ τιμημάτων (see n. 224 above). 238. Macedonia: Liv. 45.18.4–8; Iust. 33.2.7 (see p. 310, n. 167). Maximus’s letter to Dyme: Syll.3 684.15–16 (c.139 b.c.?) = Sherk, Documents, no. 43.15–16 (115 b.c.?) = Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 186–199 (144–143 b.c.), and Champion, Cultural Politics, 215–216, and Champion, “Empire by Invitation,” with no discussion of the slogan of freedom by either side in the conflict. 239. Polyb. 39.4.1–39.5.5; Zonar. 9.31.3. Gruen, Hellenistic World, 523–524.

Epilogue The Slogan of Freedom from the King’s Peace to the Pax Romana

i “They tried to hold Greece in a similar manner to the Spartans, by granting it freedom and letting it live under its own laws. This was unsuccessful, so they were forced to destroy many cities in that country, in order to maintain their hold over it,” said Machiavelli about the Romans’ policy toward the Greeks. On later reflection, it appears he was right even if he did not go into specific details. Likewise, one can hardly disagree with those who say that the Roman use of the slogan of freedom followed an established Hellenic pattern. This slogan had a long history: evidence exists of its use by the Greeks in the fifth century, when we see this slogan forming the ideological background of the Peloponnesian war. It was only in the early fourth century, however, that “freedom” became a basic concept of Greek interstate relations. The main steps and ways in which the slogan of freedom developed into a characteristic feature of Greek diplomacy and politics can be identified and summed up here as follows. In the latter half of the fifth century, the slogan of freedom was applied by Sparta and Athens, but only with respect to each other’s allies, that is,

1. N. Machiavelli, The Prince, trans. Russell Price (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 18. 2. As Momigliano, Pace, 88; Holleaux, Études, 5:370; Heuss, “Ostpolitik,” 348; Petzold, Eröffnung, 37; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 142; Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” 249; Sordi, “Introduzione,” 9; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 83, 96, 99; Bernhardt, Rom, 18, 101. 3. E.g., Nolte, Voraussetzungen, 9–10; Thommen, Lakedaimonion Politeia, 137–141, and chapter 1.

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just as they used the slogan of autonomy. The former slogan propagated freedom from being a member of an alliance, which the Greeks considered to be a form of political and military domination, whereas the slogan of autonomy, even though it was not directly against alliances, effectively undermined their military strength by formally protecting the status, rights, and privileges of each member. At that time the autonomy of Greek cities appeared to be compatible with an obligation to pay tribute and accept a garrison: in 395, Artaxerxes II promised (through his chiliarch Tithraustes) autonomy to Greek cities in Asia Minor, as long as they paid “the old tribute,” and in 394, Pharnabazos and Conon, while fighting against the Spartans, announced that eastern Greek cities were to be autonomous and ungarrisoned. The word “freedom” was not used. Nor was it used in the treaty of Peace that Sparta and Athens concluded, with the help of the Great King, in 386. This “King’s Peace” contained the “autonomy clause,” which obliged the signatories to respect the autonomy of all Greek cities (with the exception of those that were directly subject to the King). The extension of the slogan of autonomy from only allies to all Greek cities helped to secure the political balance in Greece: this slogan now justified military retaliation if some major power wanted to form a military alliance, thus depriving its members of their “autonomy.” Quickly, however, the King’s Peace was reinterpreted as having given “freedom” and “autonomy” to the Greeks: first, as far as the surviving evidence allows us to say, in the treaty of the Athenians with Chios (384–383) and then in the so-called charter of the Second Athenian Confederacy, which has also been known as the decree of Aristotle (377). This reinterpretation probably had a very practical purpose in a situation where the Spartans were not only subverting military alliances in Greece but also reorganizing the “constitutions” of many Greek cities in the name of the King’s Peace, while Sparta’s own military alliance survived intact. The rising importance of the slogan of freedom and its retrospective association with the King’s Peace show that the “autonomy clause” failed to maintain the status quo in Greek politics. Both reacting to Sparta’s domination and following her example, major Greek powers had quickly found a way to combine the “autonomy clause” with establishing their own military alliances and controlling

4. For more detail, see chapter 1. 5. Xen. Hellen. 3.4.25, 4.8.1; R. Seager, “Thrasybulus, Conon, and Athenian Imperialism, 396–386 b.c.,” JHS 87 (1967): 101. 6. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31; Diod. 14.110.3. 7. R&O 20 (= IG II2 34 = GHI 118 = Syll.3 142).17–23; R&O 22 (= IG II2 43 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257).7–20. Cf. Polyb. 4.27.5: the King’s Peace proclaimed the “freedom” and “autonomy” of the Greeks. Raaflaub, “Freiheitsbegriff,” 323–324.

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many smaller communities. Another way to counter Sparta’s dominance of Greek affairs was by using the slogan of freedom which, as we have seen, became retrospectively associated with the King’s Peace. However, its effectiveness proved to be limited as well. For this reason, in addition to “freedom” and “autonomy,” the decree of Aristotle also contained the “territorial clause”: whereas the King’s Peace did not mention it separately for the Greeks, the right to one’s territorial possessions now became an important tool in the struggle between Sparta and the rest of the Greek world. Then “freedom,” together with the right to keep territorial possessions, was included in bilateral treaties between Thebes on the one hand, and Corinth as well as several other (former?) Spartan allies on the other (366–365); in the projects of Isocrates (c.355) and of the Spartans (353); and in the amendment suggested in 342 to the peace of Philocrates (346). Finally, for the same reason, panhellenic peace treaties started to also include the “garrison clause,” that is, the clause that protected the freedom of Greek cities from being garrisoned, which first emerged in the treaty of Peace in 375 and then made its way into the Sparta Peace of 371. The addition of the “garrison clause” was also aimed at subverting the effectiveness of military alliances and, therefore, at undermining the military strength of major Greek powers in their struggle against each other. Similar to the above-mentioned subsequent additions, the “garrison clause” would be reinterpreted as having formed a part of the King’s Peace as well, although such clauses only appeared later. The introduction of these new clauses, which reflected the adjustment of the King’s Peace to changing realities, brought along a whole series of treaties of Peace in the aftermath of the King’s Peace, including the Peace of 375, the Sparta Peace and the Athens Peace (both in 371), and (probably) the Peace of 362–361 (though the evidence is inconclusive). The sophistication of the content of these treaties reflected the inability of the “autonomy clause,” and the slogan of freedom for that matter, to maintain political stability in Greece. Major political powers managed to establish military alliances, while formally upholding the principles of the King’s Peace. The best proof that the King’s Peace was dead in the 360s is that Sparta and Athens had established their own treaties of Peace by that time and refused to recognize the Peace of the other, whereas Thebes, while failing to establish her own Peace in 367, acknowledged neither the Sparta Peace of 371 nor that of Athens.

8. R&O 22 (= IG II2 43 = GHI 123 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257).7–20. See p. 409, n. 16. 9. Bilateral treaties: e.g., Xen. Hellen. 7.4.10 (see p. 401, 16). Projects: Isocr. 8.16; Dem. 16.16–17. Amendment: [Dem.] 7.26 (see p. 408, n. 10). 10. Diod. 15.38.2. The Sparta Peace: Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18. 11. E.g., Isocr. 8.16 (see pp. 408–409, nn. 7, 10, 14, 20).

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Still, even while the political situation was unstable (which is demonstrated by the presence of more than one treaty of Peace in Greece at the same time), the slogan of freedom had been used and refined for several decades before the rulers of Macedonia made it the foundation of their policy, with respect to Greeks in general and individual Greek cities in particular. Not much information has survived about the treatment of Greek cities by Philip II. What we do know allows us, however, to suggest that by using the slogan of freedom, he broke existing Greek alliances into smaller political entities (down to individual cities) with which he dealt directly, as if protecting their freedom. He also used this slogan to maintain his own League of Corinth, whose declared purpose was to protect the freedom of all the Greeks in general (because it claimed to have been based on the same principles as the King’s Peace and other such subsequent treaties) and individual members of the League in particular (because it was a military alliance that had to have the “sanctions clause” protecting the safety and original status of its members). The military might of Macedonia can hardly be the only explanation of Philip’s success. In fact, there were just a few Greek cities that Philip actually subdued by force, even though, of course, Philip’s diplomatic success was largely conditioned by the strength of his army. Still, diplomacy and military actions need to be distinguished. However, Philip succeeded not just because he “realized that he could turn Greek, especially Athenian, factiousness to his own ends,” but because he claimed to give the Greeks freedom from each other’s oppression, thus maintaining that they all were free. Philip’s propaganda worked well: when the Acarnanian Lyciscos urged for unity among the Greeks in the face of the growing Roman menace in the late third century, he praised Philip as the author of “Greek freedom.” Lyciscos’s reference to Philip was not out of place: by uniting all Greeks, Philip established the Macedonian Peace, which ended all hostilities among the Greeks and gave them freedom from both each other’s and foreign oppression. Like everything else, political stability came at a price: as Philip was breaking down Greek military alliances in the name of freedom for its individual members and all other Greeks, his domination over Greece became largely undisputed. Once Philip undermined the political and military cooperation of the Greeks on the pretext of protecting their freedom, the slogan of freedom started to be

12. As Cawkwell, “Greek Liberty,” 108, 112. 13. E.g., T. T. B. Ryder, “The Diplomatic Skills of Philip II,” in Ventures into Greek History, ed. I. Worthington (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1994): 229–230. 14. Buckler, “Philip II’s Designs,” 92. 15. Polyb. 9.33.6. Halfmann, “Beziehungen,” 21.

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used by Macedonians in their relations with individual Greek cities and other entities. The Macedonian advance into Asia Minor made their policy with respect to Greek (and other) cities more visible in one sense, because these were the cities that Alexander took away from Persian control and treated on an individual basis. Alexander’s grants of “freedom” to these cities might, or might not, have been accompanied by additional rights, such as freedom from tribute, freedom from being garrisoned, or freedom to use local laws. As we have seen, such clauses developed in the course of refining the idea of peace in a series of treaties that were established earlier in the fourth century. The old debate about whether the freedom of Greek cities under Alexander was “real freedom” or a whim of the King is not our concern here. The result was that the status of the city not only depended on this city’s loyalty to the ruler but also consisted of several rights and privileges, in addition to “freedom” as such. But “freedom” was guaranteed to Greek cities, whereas non-Greek communities did not receive it automatically, which once again shows that Alexander merely extended the Greek practice of using the slogan of freedom to cities in Asia Minor. His campaign fully revealed a different use of “freedom,” by employing it to define the status of individual cities. Later in the fourth century, as the political situation in the Greek world destabilized following Alexander’s death, general declarations of freedom once again became prominent. By inheriting the position that had been held by Antipater, as the regent of the kings and the protector of Greek freedom (this responsibility had been given to Antipater by Alexander), the Macedonian general Polyperchon was entitled to issue the declaration of Greek freedom (319), with the aim of undermining Cassander’s nascent military alliance. Having occupied Polyperchon’s position, Antigonos the One-Eyed immediately used the slogan of freedom in his own declaration (315), which was also aimed against Cassander. Ptolemy, who quickly recognized the significance of this step, responded by issuing a similar declaration in the following year (314). However, because Ptolemy did not have the same status as Antigonos, Ptolemy’s declaration neither had nor could have had the same effect as that of Antigonos. But, irrespective of the status of the one who issued such declarations, everybody understood that in a situation where territorial and political pretensions could not be supported by the right of succession or by any other legitimate claim, the slogan of freedom served as an effective, and perhaps

16. See chapter 2; cf. Schol. 159 in Dem. 18.89 and Arr. 1.18.1–2. 17. See, e.g., Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 525; Badian, “Alexander,” 38–39, 49–50, 59, 62 n. 13. 18. E.g., Schol. 159 in Dem. 18.89 (1, p. 219 Dilts). 19. The position of Antipater: Arr. 7.12.4; Diod. 17.118.1 and 18.12.1.

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the only, diplomatic tool to contain the aspirations of rivals. This slogan, therefore, offered a casus belli against anyone who attempted to denounce the existing borders (however ill-defined they were at that time) by forcing Greek cities into his military alliance and thus endangering the political balance. After the war of the Successors was ended by the treaty of 311, which acknowledged their territorial possessions, they issued a joint declaration of Greek freedom. This served as a political framework for the new territorial settlement, in the absence of any other legitimate means to maintain the balance of power in the Greek world at that time. The declaration of the Successors specified their intention to protect the freedom of Greek cities in the future, thus serving to secure a balance of power among themselves. Therefore, this declaration, which was quite similar to such declarations made in the past, neither could nor did intend to change the status of individual Greek cities by “promoting the idea of autonomy.” Unlike the declaration of 311, other declarations of freedom—including those of Polyperchon (319), Antigonos (315), Ptolemy (314), Pyrrhos (272), and the Symmachy of Philip V (220)—were meant not to maintain the political status quo but to change the existing situation. It is for this reason that the declaration of the Symmachy could not be a model or even a blueprint for that of Flamininus, who only needed a casus belli for the Romans in case Antiochos III continued his advance by overcoming the Greek cities of western Asia Minor. Alexander’s practice of establishing the status of Greek cities as a composite of several rights, including “freedom,” in return for their loyalty similarly survived after his death. Such grants (or their confirmations) became the acknowledged form of establishing relations between Hellenistic rulers and Greek cities, obviously with certain modifications and adjustments. We have already seen this situation in general declarations of freedom. For example, Antigonos’s declaration of 315 promised “freedom” to the Greeks, plus “freedom from being garrisoned” and

20. E.g., Rostovtzeff, Hellenistic World, 11; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 134; Billows, Antigonos, 189. 21. Pace, e.g., Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 83–88; Walsh, “Propaganda,” 358. 22. E.g., Jones, “Civitates,” 104–106; Mastrocinque, “L’eleutheria,” 13, on eleutheria as consisting of “freedom from garrison,” “freedom from tribute,” “autonomia (the use of one’s own constitution),” and “the possession of the territory.” Interestingly, although Mastrocinque acknowledged the difference between eleutheria and autonomia, by referring to cases when “autonomous” cities did not have “freedom” (11, 15, 22), he refused to acknowledge the distinctiveness of “freedom” and other “freedoms,” such as “freedom of the city from being garrisoned” or “freedom from tribute” (6–7). He thus insisted that the “freedom” of the city was possible only as the sum of such individual “freedoms.” But, as we have seen, “freedom” could be granted to Greek cities with or without such individual “freedoms.” As a result, the understanding of what constituted the “freedom” of Greek cities changed over time; for this historical approach: Orth, Machtanspruch, 4–5 (see, in general, Introduction).

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“autonomy” (i.e., freedom to use local laws). Once the political situation stabilized as a result of the joint declaration of the Successors in 311, general declarations of freedom once more went out of use. The Successors were now employing the slogan of freedom primarily as a basis for establishing relations with the individual Greek cities that lay within the borders of their domains, and this practice would be followed by subsequent rulers of Hellenistic kingdoms. The earliest such case that we know of was Antigonos’s letter to the city of Scepsis, which followed immediately after the declaration of 311. Antigonos’s letter connected the loyalty of Greek cities with their “freedom and autonomy.” Scepsis was obviously not the only Greek city in Antigonos’s territory that was required to swear an oath of loyalty to him. Likewise, Ptolemy offered to preserve “freedom,” “autonomy,” freedom from being garrisoned, and freedom from tribute to the city of Iasus in exchange for that city’s goodwill toward him. A text that reflects the relationship between Ptolemy and Iasus a few years later misses the “garrison clause” and suggests that the city was expected to fulfill certain financial obligations, even though “freedom” and “autonomy” were guaranteed as before. A comparison between these two texts shows that “freedom,” as such, did not always imply and include all other “freedoms” for the city. The situation was still the same when the Romans became engaged in Greek affairs. The declaration of Philip V’s Symmachy in 220 included the “territorial clause” and the “garrison clause,” in addition to promising the Greeks freedom from tribute and freedom to use local laws. In 202, the people of Thasos agreed to surrender to Philip V, but only with the provision that he would let them remain free from being garrisoned, free from tribute, with no soldiers quartered in the city, and free to be governed by their own laws. Because of immediate political necessity, the Romans started with a general pronouncement of Greek freedom. Flamininus’s declaration of 196, which was essentially repeating the senatus consultum from the preceding year, confirmed the newly gained freedom of the former subjects of Philip V, as well as the freedom of all those who already had it at that time, and pledged to protect the existing situation in the future. Other than that, neither his declaration nor the senatus consultum addressed the status, including “freedom,” of individual Greek cities as such: their status would be decided by Flamininus and the Ten on an individual basis. Like earlier Hellenistic declarations of freedom, Flamininus’s declaration

23. Diod. 19.61.3: εἶναι δὲ καὶ τοὺς Ἕλληνας ἅπαντας ἐλευθέρους, ἀφρουρητούς, αὐτονόμους. 24. OGI 5 (= Welles, Correspondence, no. 1 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 428).51–61 (see p. 120, n. 52). 25. I.Iasos 2.47–53 (309–305 b.c.) and I.Iasos 3.11–15 (c.309–305 b.c.), 21–25 (after 305 b.c.). 26. The declaration of the Symmachy: Polyb. 4.25.7; Thasos: Polyb. 15.24.2.

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was not intended as a shrewd device to conciliate the “principle of the freedom of the Greeks with the reality of the dominance of a foreign power.” The whole idea of the “principle of freedom” (which will be discussed in more detail below) is closely connected with the same general question of what constituted “freedom” or, in other words, whether “freedom” existed (and could be given) alongside, or together with, other rights and privileges, to Greek cities (such as freedom from being garrisoned, freedom from paying tribute, and such like), or if “freedom” subsumed all such other rights. The former situation (which, I think, correctly reflects the relationship of Greek cities with Hellenistic and Roman rulers) has made it possible for some to combine what they still label the “principle of freedom” with the domination of these cities by the Hellenistic monarchies and, at a later date, Rome. But the slogan of freedom could be used for different purposes. By using the slogan of Greek freedom, Flamininus’s declaration was aimed at containing the aggression of the approaching Antiochos, and thus to maintain a political and military balance in the Greek world at a time when Rome lacked legitimacy for interfering in Greek affairs. In practical terms, therefore, the slogan of Greek freedom provided a casus belli for the Romans when Antiochos started taking over Greek cities in western Asia Minor. The old debate between those who followed the “idealistic” or the “Machiavellian” view on Roman politics in Greece appears to be irrelevant—there was no Machiavellism in Flamininus’s declaration, at least not in the sense that has been put forward by some modern authors, and, even more important, like earlier Greek declarations of freedom, that of Flamininus carried with itself no obligations. The Greeks, who knew perfectly well the real value of this pronouncement, still appreciated the restoration of freedom to former subjects of Philip and the establishment of some sort of political stability in Greece. It is unnecessary, therefore, to search for any legal rights that the Romans had, or needed to have, to declare the Greek cities of Asia “free and autonomous” in 196, or for precise definitions of these “freedom” and “autonomy,” just as it

27. E.g., Musti, “Città,” 450–453. 28. E.g., Musti, “Città,” 450–451; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 282–283, 285, 292–293; Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 363. 29. Badian, Flamininus, 12–21; Hampl, Geschichte, 3:49; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 110–111; Bernhardt, Rom, 20. 30. E.g., K. Meister, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung: Von den Anfängen bis zum Ende des Hellenismus (Stuttgart and Berlin: Kohlhammer, 1990), 165; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 99 and 105: “le prétendu machiavélisme de Flamininus.” However, The Prince makes not a single reference to Polybios (see chapter 9). 31. E.g., Heuss, Grundlagen, 95–96; Desideri, “Studi,” 499. See Yoshimura, “Libertas-Begriff,” 14; KalletMarx, Hegemony, 50 (“the debate over what precisely the nature of this ‘freedom’ was seems tiresome and fruitless”)—about the “freedom” of Greece in 146, but with reference to the declaration of Flamininus in 196.

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is unnecessary, and futile, to reconstruct “detailed provisions” of the King’s Peace in 386. Neither concerned the status of individuals, or of individual cities per se. In a similar fashion, the Romans would claim that they waged the second war against Philip, and many subsequent wars, in defense of the freedom of their allies. Whereas such a vision of the Second Macedonian war emerged only in retrospect, this claim has often been held to be true. But, similar to Philip II, Rome used the slogan of freedom for interfering in local affairs of the Greeks and for protecting her interests against third parties, which had nothing to do with the actual freedom, or the legal status in general, of individual Greek cities. After the Second Macedonian war, the status of these cities was to be established by Flamininus and the Ten, and “freedom” was not always their choice. For the same reason, it is out of place to argue about the transformation (and its stages) of the Roman attitude toward the slogan of Greek freedom, or about the Romans’ eventual abandonment of the “principle of Greek freedom.” For some, this “abandonment” first emerged with the Romans’ treatment of Nabis. However, at that time the Romans were using the slogan of Greek freedom in a different way and for a different purpose: not for containment but for aggression. The rule of Nabis, although a source of great displeasure to the Greeks and of much concern for the Romans, did not go against the general declaration of Greek freedom as pronounced by Flamininus in 196. Others have dated the Roman abandonment of the “principle of Greek freedom” to 193, with reference to the negotiations between Rome and the envoys of Antiochos, when Flamininus was ready to forsake the Greeks of “Asia,” provided Antiochos agreed to leave “Europe” to Rome. Another such option has been the division by the Romans of Antiochos’s former territory in Asia Minor between Rhodes and the Attalids. In particular, Marie-Luise Heidemann considered the deliberations that accompanied this settlement as a starting point in the change of the Roman approach to “Freiheitsprinzip.” More recently, Ferrary proposed that the Romans abandoned the slogan of Greek freedom after their final victory over Antiochos, whereas Bastini suggested that Roman “political philhellenism”

32. Cf. Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 29, and Cawkwell, Wars, 175, 193–196. Pace Rhodes, “Sparta, Thebes and Autonomia,” 35–40, who eventually ended up with the idea of “degrees of autonomia.” 33. Esp. A. N. Sherwin-White, review of Harris, War, JRS 70 (1980): 177–181. On the retrospective interpretation of the Second Macedonian war, see chapters 5 and 6. 34. Pace, e.g., Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 31. 35. E.g., Will, Histoire, 2:188; Carawan, “Graecia,” 237; Errington, “Rome,” 287–288. 36. Heidemann, “Freiheitsparole,” 76; Holleaux, Études, 5:422; Will, Histoire, 2:196–197. Pace Magie, Rule, 108.

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was over by the late 180s, and Larsen argued for 146. As we have already seen, some connect this change with the Roman victory over Perseus at Pydna in 168, and it is here that, according to Errington, the “political phase” of Roman philhellenism ended. All such deliberations would be perfectly legitimate if only the Romans had this “Freiheitsprinzip.” But they had neither “political philhellenism” nor the “principle of (Greek) freedom”: the Romans’ uses of “freedom” in their relations with the Greeks were many, and each had its own practical purpose. Nor did the Spartans have this “principle” in the 380s and 370s: their declarations were quite compatible with Sparta’s policy of domination (up to a certain point, of course), quite similar to what we see with the Romans. The Romans came to appreciate the political importance of the slogan of freedom only after they defeated Philip in 197. One might see the ultimatum that they presented to Philip twice (with some modifications on the second occasion) in 200 as a preliminary step to their use of the slogan of freedom: Roman generals forbade Philip to attack Greek cities. This prohibition would be repeated even after the Romans defeated Philip and started to employ the slogan of freedom: the slogan was still a novelty for the Romans, who preferred to keep their traditional methods in politics. Their immediate reason for using the slogan was to counteract Antiochos. Therefore, the Romans applied “freedom” in this way neither because they did not know of other ways to use it, nor because they did not want to, but because this way of using “freedom” best corresponded to Roman interests at that moment and was quite familiar to the Greeks.

37. Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 155; Bernhardt, Rom, 22; Bastini, Bund, 120; Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” passim. 38. See chapter 4. Errington, “Philhellenismus,” 152. 39. As Balsdon, “Flamininus,” 187; Magie, Rule, 108; Petzold, “Einfluss,” 212; Petzold, Eröffnung, 41 n. 54; Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 144, 156; Seager, “Freedom,” 110–112; cf. Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 289: “Flamininus’ doctrine of ‘the freedom of the Greeks.’” 40. E.g., Badian, Flamininus, 33–34; Harris, War, 244; E. S. Gruen, Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1992), 224–227, 269–271. Pace Derow, “Philhellenism”; K.-L. Elvers, “[I 32] Ae. Paullus, L.,” in NPauly 1 (1996): 182. 41. Cf. Badian, Clientelae, 80–81, who correctly refers not to “the Roman principle of the freedom of the Greeks” but to “the Roman claim of the freedom of the Greeks,” 87–89; McDonald, review of Badian, Clientelae, 149; Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 127 n. 102, who rejected the idea that Flamininus was in any way concerned with “the principle of Greek freedom,” but only because Pfeilschifter interpreted (322) the Roman use of “freedom” as rhetoric. 42. Pace Hamilton, “Sparta,” 53–54, and also 41. 43. Polyb. 16.27.2, 16.34.3 (see p. 167, n. 4), and Polyb. 18.47.1–2, respectively. 44. Cf. Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 205: after the Second Macedonian war, “in applying their system, however, the Romans discarded one of the best features of earlier models,” with reference to military alliances.

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The political system established by the Romans after the Second Macedonian war, indeed, looked the same as we saw in Greece after the King’s Peace: the slogan of freedom (not in the original King’s Peace but attributed to it in its later editions) maintained the political balance, putting a check on all major powers. In a similar fashion, the second Roman war against Philip would later be presented as a fight for Greek freedom, but this retrospective interpretation was guided by political considerations. The latter also meant that Roman assertions of defending Greek freedom were countered by similar claims made by Rome’s opponents. Not much evidence has survived about these wars of words. As the Romans were beefing up Greek support for a campaign against Nabis in 195, however, they were accused (by the Aetolians) of using the slogan of Greek freedom in their own interests. Similar accusations of Roman misuse of the slogan of freedom would also come in 193 from the envoys of Antiochos, who was invited by the Aetolians in 192 to “free Greece.” The same slogan was probably a part of Perseus’s propaganda campaign, playing a big rôle in his negotiations with the Greeks. The Achaeans, too, when forcing Sparta and Messenia to join their alliance, claimed freedom from foreign interference in their internal affairs. Such propaganda campaigns, posing as if in defense of Greek freedom, occurred in the pre-Roman period as well, starting as early as the fifth century. These included the argument between Sparta and Athens in the time of the Peloponnesian war, and a similar argument between Sparta and Elis in 400. Philip II would be remembered as both the author and the “grave-digger” of Greek freedom—a distant echo of the propaganda wars of his time. Alexander’s claim of waging war for the freedom of the Greeks was answered by similar claims from his opponents, such as the Thebans and the Persians. Antigonos’s declaration of freedom was almost immediately followed by a similar pronouncement by Ptolemy. Political instability and

45. Among those who have noted this similarity: Täubler, Imperium, 434; Bengtson, Geschichte5, 479; Larsen, “Was Greece Free?” 205. This is, of course, an old observation; cf., e.g., Machiavelli, Prince, 18 (see n. 1 above). 46. Esp. Holleaux, Études, 5:383–384. 47. The Aetolians: Liv. 34.23.5–11. The envoys of Antiochos: Liv. 35.16.2. The invitation: Liv. 35.33.8. 48. E.g., with the Rhodians: Polyb. 27.4.6–7; see also what seems to be the same case concerning the Achaean League: Liv. 41.24.19 and the Boeotian Federation: Polyb. 27.1.8 and Liv. 42.12.5–6. 49. Cf., e.g., the appeal of Philopoemen (Liv. 38.32.6–8; Plut. Philop. 17.2–3), the words of Lycortas to the Romans (Liv. 39.37.13), and the declaration of Critolaos on the eve of the conflict: Polyb. 38.12.8–38.13.3. 50. The Peloponnesian war: Thuc. 1.67.2, 1.69.1, 1.124.3, 1.139.1, 1.144.2; Isocr. 12.97–98. Sparta and Elis: Xen. Hellen. 3.2.21–31; Diod. 14.17.4–12; Paus. 3.8.3–7. 51. Cf. Polyb. 9.33.6 and Quintil. Decl. min. 339.10 (see p. 91, n. 143). 52. Thebes: Diod. 17.9.5; Dinarch. 1.20; Plut. Alex. 11.4. The Persians: Arr. 2.1.4 (Mytilene), 2.2.2 (Tenedus).

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military conflicts that undermined the existing borders made the slogan of freedom a necessary diplomatic tool. This slogan, therefore, could also have been used in this same fashion later in the second century as well, when western Asia Minor was shaken by the revolt of Aristonicos, and also early in the first century, when the slogan provided the ideological basis for the campaign against Mithridates VI—both events caused relatively short periods of political instability in the Greek East. The Greeks, therefore, were consistently using the slogan of freedom against the Romans, just as they had used it in the pre-Roman period for political infighting among themselves. It was the slogan of Greek freedom and the idea of Greek unity that made Greek opposition to the Romans coherent and continuous. The slogan of Greek freedom and “Realpolitik” were not at all mutually exclusive: using this slogan was, in fact, the real politics of Rome. However, while general declarations of freedom largely went out of use in the aftermath of Antiochos’s defeat by the Romans, “freedom” continued to be employed by the Romans in other ways. They used this slogan, first and foremost, against Greek military alliances. We have seen above that subverting military alliances was the purpose of the King’s Peace and its later reincarnations. We have also seen that major Greek political powers eventually managed to accommodate the general slogans of autonomy and the freedom of all Greeks with maintaining their own military alliances. The Romans quickly understood the importance of using the slogan of freedom for subverting Greek military alliances: their treaties prohibited Philip V and Antiochos III from establishing military alliances. Then Philippus neutralized the Boeotian Federation in 172 by using the slogan of freedom and, therefore, by pleading formally to protect the freedom of its individual members. The real reason was a treaty of alliance that had been concluded between this Federation and Perseus. The eventual downfall of the Achaean League was a natural outcome of the same policy: the Romans kept on interfering in the affairs

53. E.g., I.Metropolis I A, ll.14–18, with reference to the Romans as “common benefactors” and “saviors.” Such designations had already been connected with the rôle of the Romans as authors of Greek freedom. 54. E.g., Syll.3 742.I (= I.Ephesos 8).17–22: Ephesus declares war on Mithridates VI in the name of the Roman leadership and “common freedom.” 55. Pace Bowersock, review of Deininger, Widerstand, 577 and 580, denying any such coherence and consistency. 56. As Pfeilschifter, Flamininus, 296. 57. For Philip, see above. For Antiochos: e.g., Polyb. 21.43.25 (188). 58. Polyb. 27.1.2 and 12; Liv. 42.12.6.

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of this League, as if they were protecting the “freedom” of some of its members against others. The other very important way in which the Romans continued to use the slogan of freedom—especially after removing the major opponents to Rome in Greece and after laying claim to control of the affairs of the Greeks, by virtue of having given them “freedom”—was by employing “freedom” in Roman dealings with individual Greek cities. Similar to what had happened in Greek politics in earlier times, once the political situation on the whole became stabilized and the territorial arrangement was in place (quite like what Flamininus had wanted in 193, even though with different borders), the dominant power was turning its attention to establishing formal relations with the individual Greek cities that lay within the territory that this power controlled. Following Rome’s victory over Philip, Flamininus and the Ten visited numerous Greek cities and modified their “constitutions.” These laws remained in use half a century later. After the Messenians surrendered to Flamininus in 191, he instructed them to recall their exiles: a familiar measure in the grants of freedom. His correspondence with at least one Greek city used the word proairesis, which reflected traditional Hellenistic diplomatic vocabulary. Flamininus’s accusations that the Magnetes were not appreciative enough of the grant of “freedom” they had received from the Romans indicate that Rome’s claim of being the author of Greek freedom served as the foundation of her relations with Greek cities, even prior to 192. Honorific inscriptions that praised Flamininus as the “savior” also show that, in the absence of formal treaties after Flamininus’s victory over Philip (and even after such treaties were established between Rome and the Greeks in the aftermath of this victory), “freedom” was the basis of Rome’s relationships with individual Greek cities. In return for their “freedom,” the Greeks were expected to adhere to the Roman cause, whereas the Romans did not assume any obligations to the Greeks. The Romans controlled Greek cities by right of being the victors, as the Greeks themselves acknowledged, and even in the

59. See chapter 9 for more detail. 60. E.g., Liv. 34.51.4–6. See IG IX.2, 89b (= Syll.3 674 = Sherk, Documents, no 9).50–53 (senatus consultum de Narthaciensium et Melitaeensium litibus, c.140 b.c.). 61. Liv. 36.31.4–9; cf. Polyb. 22.10.6. 62. IG IX.2, 338 (= Syll.3 593 = Sherk, Documents, no. 33).2–4 (Chyretiae, c.196–194; see p. 274, n. 267). 63. The Magnetes: Liv. 35.31.14–15 (see p. 274, n. 264). Inscriptions: e.g., PH 128 = SGDI 3656 = IGR IV 1049 (Cos); Syll.3 592 = IG V.1, 1165 (Gytheum, c.195 b.c.) with SEG 11, 923.11–12: the continued veneration of Titus Flamininus, now together with the members of the imperial family (Gytheum, c. a.d. 15); IG XII.9, 931.5 (Chalcis); J. Bousquet, in BCH 88 (1964): 607–609 (Corinth, early second century b.c.). 64. See the words of the Rhodians at the hearings in Rome in 188: Polyb. 21.22.14 and 21.23.4.

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180s laid claim to being the “common benefactors” of the Greeks, by virtue of having given them “freedom.” The status of individual Greek cities was established by Rome as a composite of several rights and privileges (with “freedom” as only one component) and was to be protected so long as the city remained faithful to Roman leadership. The Romans had learned about the complexity of the status of Greek cities in the third century, when they were dealing with Greek cities in southern Italy and Sicily. The Romans then pledged to preserve the status of these cities as the result of prearranged surrenders, that is, when the surrender (deditio) of Greek cities to the Romans was preceded by setting up certain conditions that concerned, first, the status of the surrendering cities. These Greek cities bargained to preserve their status on their own terms, as happened with Syracuse (212) and Tarentum (209). The same was probably true for various other cities, such as Phocaea, which received “freedom” and “autonomy” but had to accept a Roman garrison and pay tribute to Rome (190). In the course of their expansion to the Greek East, however, the Romans started to assume reciprocal obligations to Greek cities, which now formed the basis of Roman domination over the Greek world. Roman interaction with Greek cities was thus turning into a patron-client relationship: “freedom” and other rights, which constituted the status of individual Greek cities, were now purposefully granted by the Romans not only as a result of prearranged agreements but in return for these cities’ unconditional surrender (deditio in fidem) and oaths of loyalty to Roman leadership. The earliest attested indication of this reciprocity appears to be in the letter of the Scipio brothers to Heraclea by Latmus in 189, in which the two brothers referred to “freedom” and other rights of Greek cities (including freedom to keep their possessions and freedom to use local laws) as having been granted and preserved by

65. For this concept and the date of its emergence, see n. 108 below. There was no contradiction, therefore, between the fact that Rome borrowed the practices and vocabulary of freedom from the Greeks and that she used them for establishing the Roman hegemony over the Greek world; cf. Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” 260: “The years from the late third to the mid second century witnessed an increasingly conspicuous role for Rome in the affairs of the Greek East. But it is misleading to refer to the development as the application of a Roman empire or hegemony. In fact, the institutions, traditions, and practices of the Greeks provide the real structure for understanding the relationship between the Republic and the Hellenistic states.” This idea itself is, of course, true. But our examination of the institutions, traditions, practices, and vocabulary of pre-Roman Greek politics shows that the use of the slogan of freedom was aimed specifically at establishing, or maintaining, political hegemony. 66. Syracuse: Liv. 25.28.3, 26.32.2; Plut. Marcell. 23.4, 6–7. Tarentum: Liv. 27.21.8. See chapter 7 and Appendix 9. 67. Liv. 37.32.9, 14; cf. App. Syr. 22, 25, and also Baronowski, “Status,” 460–461. Garrisoning and tribute: Polyb. 21.6.1; Liv. 37.9.2, 37.32.14. See Bernhardt, “Immunitas,” 196–201.

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the Romans, in return for the cities’ unconditional surrender and pledge of loyalty to Rome. The Roman use of the Greek slogan of freedom, therefore, acquired a new dimension. The Romans used “freedom” for maintaining the political balance in Greece (when Roman interference in Greek affairs could not be justified on any other grounds, as was the case when Philip had just been defeated and Antiochos was advancing to the west); changing the political situation in Greece (when protecting the “freedom” of the Peloponnesians served as the pretext for the war led by the Romans against Nabis); and, finally, defining the status of individual Greek cities (when “freedom” was given either separately from, or together with, the other rights and privileges of these cities). Now the Romans used “freedom” as the basis of their entire system of building relations with the Greeks, which required a corresponding adjustment in Roman concepts. For example, because the unconditional surrender (deditio in fidem) was now regularly followed by the benevolent treatment of those who had surrendered (dediticii), Roman fides was more and more often being associated with Greek pistis, thus causing a number of misunderstandings: whereas pistis guaranteed protection and safety to those who had surrendered to someone else’s trust, fides still put neither legal nor moral obligations on the Romans with respect to the dediticii. According to Plutarch, even in his time the hymn of praise to Flamininus was still being sung after the sacrifice and libations in Flamininus’s honor in the Delphinium, which had been dedicated to Flamininus and Apollo in Chalcis, one of the “three fetters.” The hymn contained the following words, as quoted by Plutarch: “And the Roman faith we revere, which we have solemnly vowed to cherish; sing, then, ye maidens to great Zeus, to Romê, to Titus, and to the Roman faith (pistis).” It was the same “faith” in Rome (in fact, it was the unconditional surrender and pledge of loyalty for the future) that the Scipio brothers generously reciprocated in their letter to Heraclea by Latmus, by granting (in fact, allowing them to keep in place) “freedom” and other rights to that city. This form of interrelationship between Rome and individual Greek cities would last for several centuries, serving as the foundation of the new political order. The same situation was still reflected in letters to Greek cities written by Roman emperors in the third century a.d. In one such letter, Gordian III wrote the following words to Aphrodisias:

68. Syll.3 618 (= Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15. 69. See chapter 7 for more detail. 70. Plut. Flam. 16.4: πίστιν δὲ Ῥωμαίων σέβομεν and ἅμα Ῥωμαίων τε πίστιν.

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It was appropriate, Aphrodisians, to the antiquity of your city, to its good will (eunoia) and friendship (philia) toward the Romans, for you to be disposed toward my reign as you have shown in the decree addressed to me. In return for which, and in response to your local disposition, I maintain securely the enjoyment of all your existing rights which have been preserved up to the time of my reign. A little later, the letter of Decius and Herennius to this city contained essentially the same message: It was natural for you in view of the goddess after whom your city is named and of your friendship and good faith (pistis) to the Romans, to rejoice at the establishment of our reign, and to offer the proper sacrifices and prayers, so that we preserve your existing freedom (eleutheria) and all the other privileges which you have gained from the emperors before us, being willing to reward your hopes in the future as well. The idea that the Greeks were obliged to remain loyal to Rome, in return for the freedom they had received from the Romans, can probably be traced to Flamininus. However, this reciprocity between the Roman guarantee of the status of individual cities (including their “freedom” and other rights) and the loyalty of these cities to Rome only developed in the early 180s b.c. Another development that survived from earlier times into the imperial period, but which acquired a new understanding along the way, was the vision of Greek freedom as guaranteeing the right of the Greeks to settle their own affairs by themselves by first establishing peace among themselves. This connection between “Greek freedom” and “Greek peace” is what we see in the powerful speeches of many Greeks in the late third century b.c., including the Aetolian Agelaos at Naupactus at the end of the Allied war in 217, and the Rhodian Thrasicrates at Heraclea in 207. Both stressed that conflicts among the Greeks led to the enslavement of Greece by the Romans. Soon afterward the Rhodians, helped by the Chians, reconciled Philip and the Aetolians, on the understanding that peace would benefit all Greeks, even though this meant ignoring the interests of the

71. Reynolds, Aphrodisias, 131, no. 20 (c. a.d. 239?). 72. MAMA VIII 424 (a.d. 250). 73. Cf., e.g., Flamininus’s negotiations with the Magnetes: Liv. 35.31.8–15 (see p. 274, n. 264). 74. Agelaos: Polyb. 5.103.9–5.104.11. Thrasicrates: Polyb. 11.4–6. Cf. App. Mac. 3.1, 4.1. See chapter 4.

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Romans, who were the Aetolians’ allies at that time. Then the Aetolians accused Rome of using the slogan of Greek freedom for her own ends. Antiochos suggested that his conflicts with Greek cities should be settled not by the Romans but by an arbitrator from among the Greeks, such as Rhodes. After the defeat of Antiochos, the Rhodians urged Rome to be consistent with her declared slogan of Greek freedom and to let Greek cities arrange their affairs as they wished. Rhodes continued to play her traditional rôle as the protector of Greek freedom by attempting to mediate between Rome and Perseus in the Third Macedonian war, which the Romans interpreted as an anti-Roman stance. Finally, the Achaean League tried to establish control over the Peloponnese by using the slogan of Greek freedom and protecting the right of the Greeks to settle their own affairs by themselves, that is, without Roman interference. The Romans put a check on the activity of the Achaean League by claiming to protect the freedom of its individual members. The Romans would ultimately use this same claim to demolish the alliance of the Achaeans in the 140s. This conflict of interests would survive into the imperial period, when, in the opinion of Greek intellectuals, Rome used discord among the Greeks in order to control them. Dio’s speech to the Nicomedians On Concord with the Nicaeans mentioned how Roman governors used local factionalism as an excuse for interfering in local affairs. Dio Cassius, most likely reflecting the realities of his own times, referred to the alleged advice of Maecenas to Augustus about promoting the mutual rivalries of Greek cities over pride and “empty titles.” As a result, said Maecenas, Greek cities would readily submit “in this and every other matter” to the Roman leader. Plutarch and Dio noted that Rome kept watch over the Greeks as if they were “naughty children.” When Dio speaks of the Greeks as “schoolchildren” and the Romans as their “masters,” he does not forget to say that any misbehavior of the “children” was immediately reported by other Greeks to their “masters.” Dio’s pronouncement thus casts a new light on the words of Aristides about “the greatest and most influential men of any city,” who were guarding their

75. E.g., Polyb. 5.24.11, 5.29.1–2, 5.100.9. 76. The accusations of the Aetolians: Liv. 34.23.8. Antiochos: Polyb. 18.52.1–4; App. Syr. 3. 77. The Rhodian appeal to Rome: Polyb. 21.19.5, 21.23.7–12. The mediation of the Rhodians: Polyb. 29.10.1– 5; Liv. 44.14.8–12 (see chapter 8). 78. E.g., Philopoemen in Liv. 38.32.6–8, 39.37.9–17; Critolaos in Polyb. 38.12.8–38.13.3 (see chapter 9). 79. Dio Or. 38.33–37 with S. Swain, Hellenism and Empire: Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, A.D. 50–250 (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 221. 80. D.C. 52.37.10. Cf. I.Ephesos 1489 = 1490 = Syll.3 849: the letter of Antoninus Pius to Ephesus concerning the titles of Smyrna and Pergamum. 81. Plut. Praec.ger.reip. 17, 814a; Dio Or. 32.71–72, 46.14.

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native places and thus relieving the Romans of the need to garrison them. Herodian summed up this situation when he said that intercity strife had sapped the vitality of Greece and, in this way, made it an easy victim for Macedonian domination and Roman enslavement. His reference to Macedonian domination was not at all out of place: Philip, and then Alexander, similarly maintained the Macedonian Peace by playing on conflicts among the Greeks and by using the slogan of freedom to undermine Greek military alliances, claiming to protect the freedom of their members. The many ways in which the Romans used the Greek slogan of freedom (all of which had already developed in pre-Roman Greece) speak against the usual indiscriminate approach to such evidence. The manner in which the Greeks and the Romans employed the slogan of freedom depended on individual circumstances. The end result of the Romans’ using the Greek slogan of freedom was the establishment of an elaborate system of relationship between Rome and Greek cities, which was already in place in the second century, and which—following the examples from the pre-Roman period of Greek history—may be labeled the Roman Peace or the pax Romana. The establishment of the pax Romana has typically been associated with the early imperial period—which is when we first encounter this expression—and interpreted literally, that is, as a state of peace, enforced and maintained by Rome. This opinion can be countered on at least two grounds. First, wars would continue throughout the imperial period, both on the borders and inside the empire. Hence presenting the pax Romana as the state of peace has required various sorts of interpretations. For example, one of them has tried to prove that Roman military activity had already slowed down before Augustus came to power; another has defined the pax Romana as the “comparative peace” and declared that

82. Dio Or. 40.5; Aristid. Or. 26.64. 83. Hdn. 3.2.8. 84. E.g., A. Heuss, Stadt und Herrscher des Hellenismus in ihren Staats-und Völkerrechtlichen Beziehungen (Leipzig: Dieterich, 1937), 217; Briscoe, “Flamininus,” 39; K. Raaflaub, “Freedom in the Ancient World,” in OCD3, 610; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 138: the terminology of liberation “was thrown about with ease”; Yoshimura, “Libertas-Begriff,” 14; S. Hornblower, in JHS 115 (1995): 67; Schmitt, “Freiheit,” 351. 85. E.g., Sen. Dial. 1.4.14, 11.15.1; Plin. NH 27.3; Martial. 7.80. 86. E.g., L. Waddy, Pax Romana and World Peace (New York: Norton, 1951), 8, 26–68 (on Augustus as the “architect of the age of peace”), 69; P. Petit, Pax Romana (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1976), 13–45 (“from 31 b.c. to the accession of Marcus Aurelius”); T. Cornell, “The End of Roman Imperial Expansion,” in War and Society in the Roman World, ed. J. Rich and G. Shipley (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 142; G. Wolf, “Roman Peace,” in ibid., 171–191 (“a world free from war”), who correctly referred to the pax Romana (179) as “a by-product of empire” and as one of the Romans’ “structures of domination”; P. Kehne, “Pax (‘Frieden’),” in NPauly 9 (2000): 454: “the Roman organization of peace.”

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the Roman expansion became “sporadic” under the Empire. This is, of course, quite impossible: the reigns of Augustus and later Roman emperors were filled with wars on the borders and with military conflicts inside the empire. All such attempts to explain the presence of the pax Romana during the centuries of wars and conquests would be unnecessary if one sees it as being not merely a state of peace but, first and foremost, a system of political order in the formation of a network of mutual obligations and rights, which was quite compatible with military conflicts. Second, the vision of the pax Romana as only having emerged in the imperial period results largely from identifying it with the pax Augusta, which would indeed appear only with the foundation of the Principate. However, the pax Romana was not a state of peace but a network of relationships, so that the presence of warfare neither proves nor disproves the existence of the pax Romana. The same is true for the pax Augusta (we know that military conflicts would continue both within and on the borders of the Roman Empire) and for the pax Americana, for that matter; the latter consists of relationships of duties and responsibilities, which have no direct relevance to the state of war and peace. As a form of political order under Roman domination, the pax Romana had already emerged before the beginning of the imperial period. With respect to the Greek world, the establishment of the pax Romana can be dated to the early second century b.c., in connection with the Roman use of the Greek slogan of freedom. As we have seen above, the Greeks had used the idea of “peace” as a prerequisite for “freedom” from at least the time of the Peloponnesian war. The pax Romana followed along the same lines: after the Roman victory over Philip V in 197, Greek cities were said to have received both “peace” and “freedom.” The latter came as a result of the “peace” established by the Romans and implied that Roman control over both the political situation and the balance of power in

87. Cornell, “Expansion,” 142–150, and H. Sidebottom, in Historia 54 (2005): 315–330, respectively. 88. Cf., e.g., Momigliano, Pace, 30–31, 53. 89. E.g., Passerini, “Pace,” 114; Sordi, “Introduzione,” 12. Cf. Heftner, Der Aufstieg Roms, 361, who dated the establishment of the pax Romana to the time following the defeat of Antiochos and connected it with the rôle of Rome as the “hegemonic and organizing power in the Greek East”; Eckstein, Mediterranean Anarchy, 188, who tied this process with the establishment of Roman administration in those places (“It is important to understand that in many regions of the Mediterranean the pax Romana came into existence not late but rather at a quite early point, and that most Roman high officials became administrators rather than generals at a quite early point”) and with the end of Roman expansion; A. M. Eckstein, “Conceptualizing Roman Imperial Expansion under the Republic: An Introduction,” in A Companion to the Roman Republic, ed. N. S. Rosenstein and R. Morstein-Marx (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), 574, 581 (who dated the origin of the pax Romana to the turn of the second century b.c. and conceptualized it as a state of peace), and Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 350 (with n. 34). 90. E.g., Liv. 33.34.3, 34.22.4, 35.46.11.

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Greece was the only way of maintaining this “peace.” An adequate illustration of the situation in the late 190s is provided by Livy’s description of the failed negotiations between the Chalcidians and the Aetolian representatives of Antiochos, who had just crossed over into Greece, presenting himself as the “champion of freedom” (vindex libertatis). Having praised the peace and freedom that their city enjoyed due to the Romans, the principal men of Chalcis sent the Aetolian envoys away, noting that the Chalcidians would not conclude an alliance “except when authorized (ex auctoritate) by the Romans.” The situation in other Greek cities was undoubtedly the same. The “Roman authority” could, but did not necessarily, imply formal relations between Greek cities and Rome: it was Rome’s special status that allowed her to have the final say. It is this “Roman peace” that Cicero refers to with admiration when—in the turbulent times of the mid-forties—he claims that formerly the power of the Roman people (imperium populi Romani) had “maintained itself by benefactions, not oppression” (beneficiis tenebatur, non iniuriis); “wars were waged in defense of the allies or to safeguard Roman supremacy” (bella aut pro sociis aut de imperio gerebantur); “the senate served as the haven of refuge for kings, tribes, and nations” (regum, populorum, nationum portus erat et refugium senatus); and “magistrates and generals strove to seek the highest honor from only one thing, that is, if only they protected provinces and allies with justice and good faith” (magistratus imperatoresque ex hac una re maximam laudem capere studebant, si provincias, so socios aequitate et fide defendissent). By posing as protectors and defenders in the midst of numerous conflicting parties—and, therefore, as benefactors to each such party and all of them together—the Romans laid claim to maintaining their imperium in the form of a protectorate (patrocinium) of the world. We first witness this attitude with respect to individual Greek cities in the above-mentioned letter of the Scipios to Heraclea by Latmus in 189. Whether he was following his sources or reflecting contemporary views, Livy spoke in general terms about the establishment of the Roman patrocinium over the Greek world in the early second century. He expressed this idea, first, in the promise of Flamininus (in 193) to maintain the protectorate of Greek freedom and, then, in the speech of the Rhodian ambassadors to Rome, following the defeat of Antiochos in 189. Livy then rounded up his description of the Roman victory

91. Liv. 35.46.11–13: cum pacem eiusdem populi Romani beneficio et libertatem habeant and ne societatem quidem ullam pacisci nisi ex auctoritate Romanorum. 92. Cf. Liv. 32.27.1: Antiochos retreats from the Pergamene territory legatorum Romanorum auctoritate. 93. Cic. De Off. 2.26–27 (itaque illud patrocinium orbis terrae verius quam imperium poterat nominari). 94. Syll.3 618 (= Sherk, Documents, no. 35).10–15 (see n. 68 above). 95. Liv. 34.58.11 and 37.54.17. For modern interpretations of these instances, see chapter 7.

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over Perseus by declaring that the Macedonians and the Illyrians were now “free” and that the senate wished nations that were free to consider their freedom as assured and lasting “under the protection of the Roman people” (sub tutela populi Romani). Rome thus claimed the right to control the affairs of the Greeks by virtue of having given them freedom and promising to maintain it for the future. The same rôle would later be assumed by Roman emperors (starting with Augustus), who for at least the first two centuries of the empire generally tried to present their position as that of the “champion of freedom” (vindex libertatis) and their power (imperium) as the “authority” (auctoritas) that guaranteed “freedom” (libertas) and “safety” (securitas) to all Romans. The same idea, which had so far been applied to dealings between the Romans and other nations, was now extended to the field of Roman internal politics as well. As Ronald Syme noted a long time ago, “[T]he Roman had once boasted that he alone enjoyed libertas while ruling others. It was now evident that obedience was the condition of empire.” The Roman Peace now concerned everyone who lived in the empire. On the one hand, therefore, for non-Romans, the pax Romana implied compliance with Roman rule, which put limits on the freedom of local political entities. For instance, Virgil’s famous words—“But you, o Roman, should rule with a sovereign power over the nations; those are your arts: to establish the custom of peace (pacisque imponere morem), to spare your subjects, and to crush those who rebel”—did not grant freedom to local “arrogance.” And the choice of trading freedom for peace, which the Gauls received from Rome, as we read in Tacitus (libertas an pax placeret), was the same choice that the Romans gave to everybody else. This was nothing new, of course: we saw the same situation in the time of the King’s Peace or the Sparta Peace or the Macedonian Peace. Many, including Polybios, who accused his Greek contemporaries of “madness” and welcomed the establishment of Roman rule as always putting an end to the discord among the Greeks, would have subscribed to Cicero’s idea of Roman rule

96. Liv. 45.18.1–2. 97. L. Wickert, “Der Prinzipat und die Freiheit,” in Prinzipat und Freiheit (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969), 114: “He is the restitutor and conservator rei publicae, the vindex libertatis, the princeps civium, whose position in the state is based more on auctoritas than on potestas”; K.-W. Welwei, “Augustus als vindex libertatis: Freiheitsideologie und Propaganda im frühen Prinzipat,” in K.-W. Welwei, Res publica und Imperium: Kleine Schriften zur römischen Geschichte, ed. M. Meier and M. Strothmann (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2004), 217–229. 98. R. Syme, The Roman Revolution (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952), 517. 99. Virg. Aen. 6.851–853. 100. Tac. Hist. 4.67; cf., e.g., Lucan. b.c. 4.227 (si bene libertas umquam pro pace daretur). See H. Fuchs, Der geistige Widerstand gegen Rom in der antiken Welt (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1938), 48.

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as patrocinium. This term implied Roman patronage over free people, as acknowledged by the Romans of the late Republic: it was Rome’s mandate, according to Virgil, to “supplement peace with law,” whereas for Cicero imperium, pax, and libertas could only exist together. Hence the obvious connection in his thinking between “freedom” and “laws.” This idea was also familiar to the Greeks. The rule that overcame internal discord and brought along peace did so by securing freedom for everybody. In philosophical interpretations, order gave freedom. In political terms, the one who established order, by securing and guaranteeing freedom to all others, placed himself above them all and dealt with each of them on an individual basis, thus protecting the freedom of all. It would be an oversimplification, therefore, to say that the pax Romana excluded the idea, and the presence, of freedom. But the pax Romana offered freedom from each other’s oppression, not from the Roman control. Therefore, while the “chiefs of Gaul” (principes Galliae) went against Rome as “championing the course of freedom for Gaul” (Galliam in libertatem vindicent) and German communities (civitates) fought “in the hope of freedom” (spe libertate) for Germany, on the other side of the coin, as Tacitus makes quite clear, the strongest local powers wanted to establish their own domination (cupidine imperitandi) over their neighbors. The situation was the same in the Peloponnese, where, in the words of Polybios, local communities were “ambitious for supremacy and fond of liberty, and by their nature were constantly fighting against each other, unceasingly vying for the first place.” Thus Roman rule, which itself proceeded from cupido imperii and libido dominandi, both put a check on the freedom of local communities and protected their freedom from each other. In short, “the pax Romana thus

101. Virgil: Gruen, “Rome and the Greek World,” 242. See, e.g., Cic. Philip. 2.113: pax est tranquilla libertas. Cf. A. Michel, in Problèmes de la guerre à Rome, ed. J.-P. Brisson (Paris: Mouton, 1969), 175. We might even try to trace this connection of “peace” and “freedom” in the foreign policy of Rome to the early Republic; cf. Liv. per. 15 (victis Tarentinis pax et libertas data est), unless the Romans were borrowing the Greek approach or Livy was using the vocabulary of his own time. 102. E.g., Cic. Pro Cluent. 146 (on laws as the fundamentum libertatis and the fons aequitatis) and 155; Cic. De leg. agr. 2.102 (libertas in legibus [consistit]); Cic. Tusc. Disp. 4.43. See also H. Kloesel, “Libertas” (diss., Breslau: Nischkowsky, 1935), 25–26, 87; A. U. Stylow, “Libertas und liberalitas: Untersuchungen zur innenpolitischen Propaganda der Römer” (diss., Munich, 1972), 25; J. Bleicken, Gesammelte Schriften (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1998), 1:205–206, 209. 103. E.g., R. Syme, Roman Papers, vol. 4, ed. A. R. Birley (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 63; J. Straub, “Imperium—Pax—Libertas,” in J. Straub, Roms Kaisertum und Reich im Spiegel der heidnischen und christlichen Publizistik (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1986), 32; J. Webster, in Roman Imperialism: Post-Colonial Perspectives, ed. J. Webster and N. J. Cooper (Leicester: University of Leicester Press, 1996), 9. 104. Caes. B.G. 7.1; Tac. Hist. 4.25; Polyb. 5.105.5. 105. Liv. 1.23.7; Sall. Cat. 2, referred to in August. De civ. Dei 3.14.

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became associated with good administration keeping the peace between peoples subject to the same authority.” The Roman Peace, or the pax Romana, of 196 was, therefore, the same in nature as the King’s Peace of 386, the Sparta Peace of 371, and the Macedonian Peace of 338. Rostovtzeff ’s maxim that “in the ancient world, the sole deciding force was might” still holds true. But, as most recent events have confirmed, military might alone is not enough for establishing longlasting political settlements. It was diplomacy, including a skillful adaptation to local political practices and vocabulary, that allowed the Romans to establish their military domination and, then, to convert it into their political control over the Greeks. Having given freedom to all Greeks, the Romans took on the responsibility for preserving peace throughout the Greek-speaking world by posing as their “common benefactors” from 182, as far as we know. The pax Romana as a general idea was based on Rome’s relations with individual cities, forming a complex system of obligations and commitments: the status of Greek cities, which consisted of “freedom” and particular “freedoms,” was determined by these cities’ acceptance of “peace” and “freedom” from the Romans. The Romans pursued the same policy elsewhere into the imperial period. Hence the continuing accusations that they employed the slogan of freedom in their own interests: the words of the Aetolian Alexander, who accused the Romans of using the “empty title of freedom” in 195 b.c., are echoed by the words of Buduica of Britain, who rebuked the Romans of Nero’s time for using the “empty titles of freedom” in a.d. 61. As we have seen above, however, the Romans employed the slogan of freedom in different ways on different occasions. Therefore, when Nero declared the “freedom” of the Greeks by removing them from the control of the provincial governor or, in other words, from obligations to the Roman state (only to be quickly restored by Vespasian),

106. E.g., G. Zampaglione, The Idea of Peace in Antiquity, trans. R. Dunn (Notre Dame, Ind., and London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1973), 136–137. 107. See recently, Eckstein, “Conceptualizing Roman Imperial Expansion,” 579. 108. Syll.3 630.17–18 (koinoi euergetai). E.g., Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 125–126; Ferrary, “De l’évergétisme hellénistique à l’évergétisme romain,” 200; Bernhardt, Rom, 23. Cf., however, G. Reger, in Hellenistic Rhodes: Politics, Culture, and Society, ed. V. Gabrielsen (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1999), 97 n. 51, who dated the origin of this expression to the immediate aftermath of the Roman victory over Antiochos. The idea itself could, of course, develop over time; cf., e.g., Polyb. 2.11.6–8: the Romans fought against the Illyrians as the “common enemies” of all and then reported to the Greeks on what they had achieved. 109. The Aetolians: Liv. 34.23.8 (vano titulo libertatis) and n. 76 above; cf. Livy’s reference to the considerations of Hegesianax, the ambassador of Antiochos to Rome in 193; 34.59.1 (nec infitiari posset honestiorem causam libertatis quam servitutis praetexti titulo). Buduica: D.C. 62.3.3 (κενῶν ἐλευθερίας ὀνομάτων).

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this step was hardly a “sentimental revival of the old slogan.” Nero’s “freedom” was not the same as Flamininus’s “freedom,” even though Nero allegedly modeled his pronouncement on the famous declaration by Flamininus. Did this really matter to Nero and his contemporaries, who hardly understood the real significance of Flamininus’s declaration, which had been issued two hundred and fifty years earlier? Still, once employed, the slogan of freedom continued to be used by the Romans, even if in other ways. In the late Republican and imperial periods, freedom was a reward for political loyalty and orderly behavior under Roman rule: in the words of Philostratus, the emperor rebuked the Spartans for “unruliness incompatible with their freedom,” and Vespasian would soon deprive the Greeks of freedom, “giving as his reason their quarrels (staseis) and other charges.” On the other hand, as we have already seen, the Romans soon found themselves in a similar situation. First, “freedom” was the slogan of the political struggles in the late Republic, so that eventually “peace” could be traded for “freedom” among the Romans as well, which made up the substance of Cicero’s accusation against Mark Antony and his supporters. Second, the power (imperium) of the emperor was usually—at least in the first two centuries of the empire—presented as his “authority” (auctoritas), which guaranteed peace and safety by overcoming factional struggles. The earliest visible reference to this situation in the imperial period has been provided by Augustus, who, in the very first lines of his Res Gestae, claimed that he “championed the freedom” (libertatem vindicavit) of the Roman state by removing the tyranny of a faction. The latter reference indicates that the idea of the authority of the vindex libertatis emerged in the factional struggles of the late Republic: a political leader claimed auctoritas by championing freedom for the Roman people. Hence the posture by Octavian (future Augustus) as the

110. So Welles, “Liberty,” 45 n. 89. This opinion has been borrowed from later Greek and Roman writers; e.g., Plut. Flam. 12.8. Cf. a similar approach, even if from a different perspective, in M. Sartre, Histoires grecques: Snapshots from History, trans. C. Porter (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2009), 319: “Nero offered a new version of Flamininus’ gesture, all the more dazzling in that, while Flamininus had simply chosen not to take control of the Greeks, Nero had control and chose to give it up.” 111. For further differences in the content of the pronouncements by Flamininus and Nero, see Massimiliano Pavan, “Nerone e la libertà ai Greci,” La parola del passato 39 (1984): 353–356; Musti, “Città,” 458–461. 112. Philostr. V.A. 4.33, 5.41.1. 113. E.g., Cic. Philip. 12.7, 13.1. 114. Cic. Philip. 8.12; Welwei, “Augustus,” 217–229. Cf. Lucan. b.c. 4.227 and Tac. Hist. 4.67 (see n. 100 above). 115. Res Gestae Divi Augusti 1.1: rem publicam dominatione factionis oppressam in libertatem vindicavit. 116. Cf. Cicero’s reference (Philip. 2.30) to Brutus and his followers as “champions of freedom” (vindices libertatis).

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“champion of freedom” (vindex libertatis), which would be inherited by subsequent emperors, and the connection between “freedom” (libertas) and “safety” (securitas), which would be so prominent in the imperial period, when it formed part of the official ideology. Octavian’s most conspicuous display of this idea was on his coins from 28 b.c., in the aftermath of his victory over Mark Antony at Actium and when he was about to receive the title of Augustus as a reflection of his outstanding authority among the Romans. Ensuring freedom and safety for the entire state gave special authority to the emperor, as Augustus himself made clear, and put him above the rest, thus securing his right to control everybody and everything. The pax Romana, therefore, became absolute—it covered the entire world, centering on the figure of one person as the champion of freedom and peace: universal freedom and peace now meant universal acknowledgment of his rule. A parallel between this stance by the emperor in the Roman world and the stance of the Romans with respect to the Greeks has already been noted. We could take a step further into the past and remember the evidence from preRoman Greece, when “freedom,” as a natural outcome of “peace,” was directly associated with the “safety” (soteria) of the Greeks. Some, however, have connected the position of the Roman emperor as the “champion of freedom” (vindex libertatis) with Rome’s internal political development, also noting that Augustus presented himself as the “liberator of the entire populus Romanus.” The latter idea is, certainly, correct. Questions remain, however. Where did this idea of freedom come from? What, then, was the foundation of Augustus’s own authority (auctoritas)? The “freedom” that Augustus gave to the Romans appears to have had more than one dimension, including individual, or personal, freedom; “political

117. E.g., RIC I2 79—Avers: Imp. Caesar divi f. cos. VI libertatis p. R. vindex; Avers: the image of the Goddess of Peace (Pax); cf. [Cic.] Ad Oct. 4. The use of the slogan of freedom as part of imperial propaganda up to the end of the empire in the west: Wickert, “Freiheit,” 94–108, and 114 (see n. 97 above). 118. E.g., Tac. Agr. 3.1; Plin. Paneg. 27.1; Hdn. 7.7.4. 119. E.g., ILS 533.5–8 (the reign of Valerian). Wickert, “Freiheit,” 114 (see n. 97 above). 120. RIC I2 79 (see n. 117 above) with F. Millar, in La révolution romaine après R. Syme: Bilans et perspectives, ed. A. Giovannini (Geneva: Hardt, 2000), 5–6, 17. 121. Res Gestae Divi Augusti 6.34. 122. For the connection of the ideas of the vindex libertatis and custos libertatis in the figure of the emperor, see, e.g., Welwei, “Augustus,” 225. But the Romans already practiced the same approach in Greece in the second century. 123. E.g., J. Rehork, in Die Araber in der alten Welt, ed. F. Altheim and R. Stiehl (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1965), 2:393–398 (with reference to Flamininus’s declaration at the Isthmian games). 124. Welwei, “Augustus,” 224, 228; G. A. Lehmann, in ZPE 148 (2004): 152–153; J. Straub, in J. Straub, Regeneratio Imperii: Aufsätze über Roms Kaisertum und Reich im Spiegel der heidnischen und christlichen Publizistik (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972), 21.

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freedom”; “freedom before the law”; or “aristocratic freedom.” One such dimension, for example, was freedom from foreign threat and domination. Another was freedom from brigandage. One more dimension of Augustus’s freedom was freedom from internal fights; this is how he starts his Res Gestae. The auctoritas of Augustus was his rôle, and success, in freeing the Romans from internal discord and giving them peace as a result: Augustus’s rule finally ended what had been a hundred years of civil wars. Ideologically his rule derived from this period as well: military leaders of the first century b.c. typically claimed the position of the “champion of freedom.” This was accompanied by a “war of words,” with each side accusing the other of being the oppressor libertatis. Hence the prominence of the slogan of the pax Augusta during the civil wars in the 60s. Those who vied for imperial power after Nero’s fall also promoted the slogan of the Aequitas Augusti and the Securitas Populi Romani, thus claiming that they would restore stability and peace by overcoming internal discord. The connection between “freedom” and “law” and “equality,” on the one hand, and “peace,” on the other, was integral to Roman thinking in the late Republic. This was an old idea, of course: we see such connections in Greece during the first half of the fourth century, when major political powers presented themselves as “champions of freedom” while establishing peace to their liking. The same position of the vindex libertatis, by virtue of overcoming local infighting, had been held by the Romans in Greek lands from the early second century b.c. We do not know if Augustus was consciously modeling his policy on that of the Romans in Greece. The principles were the same in both cases, however, and what we see under the rule of Augustus is the eventual extension of the same practice to the entire Roman state. There was no public display of the slogan of the pax Romana on imperial coins, at least not in the first century of the history of the Roman Empire. General

125. For this complex understanding of “freedom” (libertas) in late Republican Rome, see, e.g., Crifò, Su alcuni aspetti, 18–21, 25, 50; Brunt, The Fall of the Roman Republic, 281–283; Bleicken, Gesammelte Schriften, 1:197–198, 200, 202, 206–207, 219, 226, and 2:664, 677–678, 681–682. 126. E.g., Welwei, “Augustus,” 218 n. 4. 127. E.g., Zampaglione, Idea of Peace, 135. 128. Res Gestae Divi Augusti 1.1. See n. 115 above and in the text. 129. E.g., Stylow, “Libertas,” 23, 28, 29, 34. Cf. Cic. Philip. 2.30 (see n. 116 above). 130. Caes. b.c. 1.22.5; Cic. Pro Rabir. 13; Cic. Ad Fam. 12.12.2; [Cic.] Ad Oct. 1; Ampel. Lib. mem. 29.3, with Bleicken, Gesammelte Schriften, 1:199. 131. E.g., RIC I2 246–247, 251–252, etc. 132. The Aequitas Augusti: e.g., RIC I2 238, 255 (Galba), 274, 276 (Vitellius). The Securitas Populi Romani: e.g., RIC I2 256 (Galba), 260 (Otho), 277 (Vitellius). 133. For the first, see Cicero’s works and other texts from the late Republican and early imperial periods (see nn. 101–102 above); for the second, see, e.g., Kloesel, “Libertas,” 27–30; Stylow, “Libertas,” 24, 49.

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peace, that is, the peace that extended throughout the entire Roman state, was the peace under the rule of one emperor, which could be referred to as Pax orbis terrarum, as on Otho’s coins. The stability of imperial rule meant the stability of the state as a whole: the pax Augusta and the pax Romana became one and the same. The imperial rule guaranteed freedom to the inhabitants, both non-Romans and Romans; in the latter case, “freedom” meant the rule of law in peace, thus, once again reflecting the intricate connection between peace and freedom. Most of today’s political terminology derives from the ancient world. Many newly coined terms and concepts are mostly composites or reincarnations of Greek or Latin expressions, even though they do not necessarily retain their original meanings. Interestingly, however, the ways in which such concepts are being used in modern politics have remained similar to those that we have seen in the ancient world. The guise of “mutual benefit” and “common peace” still hides political pretensions. The “cold war” between Rome and Antiochos (if we apply the famous expression of Ernst Badian) was a preventive measure begun by the Romans in the name of “freedom,” that is, much like the most recent cold war in human history: in both cases, each side attempted to establish control over what could not be controlled by any legally justifiable means. “Freedom” and “peace” are not, by themselves, legal terms. Hence, these slogans are still used for interfering in the affairs of sovereign nations and for neutralizing or breaking down their military alliances, whenever this cannot be achieved by “traditional diplomacy” that has to abide by legal conventions. In international politics, therefore, such slogans are used not in the interests of those whose rights (such as “freedom”) are claimed to be protected but as tools in the interests of third parties. Defense of “human rights” or “human values” (the most recent product of modern democracy), for example, has become an effective weapon for undermining the foundational principles of international diplomacy, such as non-interference

134. E.g., RIC I2 260. 135. See Heuss, “Herrschaft und Freiheit,” 109–110: “However, the empire was not a total negation of freedom … libertas was a rule, which should prevent such mishaps, and below it there was concealed, first and foremost, the respect which the imperial power should have for the senatorial aristocracy and public opinion,” which, of course, was not (p. 117) “political freedom.” 136. See also, e.g., M. Strothmann, Augustus: Vater der res publica (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2000), 57–60, on the connection between libertas and laws in the pax Augusta, with reference to the novae leges of Augustus himself. As the guardian of peace, the emperor was also in charge of generosity: e.g., Momigliano, Pace, 96 (“Libertas e liberalitas si riducevano ad uno”); Stylow, “Libertas und liberalitas,” 58–88. 137. E.g., E. Badian, “Rome and Antiochus the Great: A Study in Cold War,” CP 54 (1959): 81–99, with Dreyer, Nobilitätsherrschaft, 388, 392; cf. S. K. Eddy, “The Cold War between Athens and Persia: c.448–412 b.c.,” CP 68 (1973): 241–258, and L. Piccirilli, in Annali della Scuola normale superiore di Pisa 35 (1973): 717 (on the “cold war” between Athens and Sparta in the fifth century).

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in the internal affairs of sovereign states. Since direct state interference is strongly condemned, various sorts of (formally “non-governmental” but usually subsidized by other states) “democracy-monitoring foundations,” “human rights watch groups,” “freedom funds,” and other such organizations effectively serve the same purpose: to establish an outside authority over the political life of individual countries by claiming to protect the “freedom” of certain social groups or individuals in these countries. Governments that set up these organizations severely limit such activities within their own territory, using them, first and foremost, as tools of foreign policy. Just like twenty-five centuries ago, it is not always possible to come up with convincing arguments to counter claims of protecting the “freedom” of the “oppressed.” This practice is old—the Greeks and the Romans also used the slogan of freedom to play on the internal conflicts of their enemies. They did it specifically for the purpose of weakening and breaking them from within, claiming to act in defense of the “independence” and “freedom” of the “oppressed.” Rome concluded a similar treaty with the Jews, offering them Roman support against the “oppressing” Seleucid kingdom in the 160s, at the same time as Rome was working against Perseus (as if in defense of Greek freedom) and was acting against the Achaean League (as if in defense of the freedom of its individual members). “Machiavellianism” is typically understood as provoking, and capitalizing on, disorder and disunity inside an enemy’s ranks. The Roman policy of divide et impera has traditionally been seen as practiced by the Romans long before they got involved in Greek affairs. The Greek slogan of freedom, therefore, fell on

138. I Macc. 8. 139. E.g., Holleaux, Études, 5:382; Ager, “Rhodes,” 18 (with n. 27): on the Rhodian policy of keeping the Cretan states divided. Cf., e.g., Machiavelli, Prince, 9 (“anyone who rules a foreign country should take the initiative in becoming a protector of the neighboring minor powers and contrive to weaken those who are powerful within the country itself”); 10 (on securing allies within the country to be conquered); 16 (speaking on why it is hard to conquer the Turkish kingdom: “there is no possibility that princes of the kingdom will seek aid from a foreigner”); 18–19 (a ruler who conquered some territory and deprived its inhabitants of their freedom and ancient institutions should either “forment internal divisions or scatter the inhabitants”). 140. E.g., Vogt, “Divide et impera,” 21–44. Pace Hampl, Geschichte, 3:117, and J. Linderski, “Si vis pacem, para bellum: Concepts of Defensive Imperialism,” in The Imperialism of Mid-Republican Rome: The Proceedings of a Conference Held at the American Academy in Rome, November 5–6, 1982, ed. W. V. Harris (Rome: American Academy in Rome, 1984), 151, who doubted that the Romans used this slogan in the early Republic. However, what seems to be important is that even Hampl (Geschichte, 3:117) established parallels between Roman treatment of the Latins in the fourth century and of the Macedonians and Greeks in the second century, and that those who do not discuss the Roman use of the Greek slogan of freedom in Greece see nothing wrong in referring to the policy of the Romans as one of “divide and rule”: e.g., Gualtiero Calboli, in Marci Porci Catonis Oratio pro Rhodiensibus: Catone, l’Oriente greco e gli imprenditori romani2, ed. Gualtiero Calboli (Bologna: Pàtron, 2003), 128.

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well-prepared soil: this slogan helped the Romans to “divide and rule,” and provided them with various political and social benefits as well. One can thus label the use of the slogan of freedom by the Greeks and the Romans as a Machiavellian stance: but, as we can see, Machiavelli himself only noted what has always been a matter of fact.

141. Cf., e.g., Montesquieu, Considerations, 69–70: “[W]hen they allowed a city to remain free, they immediately caused two factions arise within it. One upheld local laws and liberty, the other maintained that there was no law except the will of the Romans. And since the latter faction was always the stronger, it is easy to see that such freedom was only a name.”

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Appendix 1

the end of the theban affiliation with the second athenian confederacy

i Thebes’ participation in the Second Athenian Confederacy has commonly been acknowledged from interpreting several pieces of evidence. One of them is a passage from Diodoros’s text; the other three are epigraphic sources: (i) the “charter” of the Second Athenian Confederacy; (ii) a decree by the synedrion of this Confederacy; and (iii) a list of Athenian ships, in the form of the tabula curatorum navalium, from 373–372. On close inspection, none of them provides definite proof of Theban participation in the Second Athenian Confederacy. Diodoros says that the Thebans were an ally of Athens and of the Second Confederacy, and that after the attack of Sphodrias they were admitted into the common council (synedrion) of the Second Confederacy “on equal terms,” which has been commonly interpreted as implying membership for Thebes in the Second Confederacy. Diodoros, however, does not say this: his reference to the Thebans being admitted “on equal terms,” in fact, underlines the special position held by the Thebans. They expressly received a status that was equal to that of members in the Confederacy’s synedrion, precisely because they were not members of the Confederacy. The other two written accounts of these events do not support Thebes’ membership in the Second Confederacy either. When reflecting on the aftermath of Sphodrias’s attack, Xenophon only says that after the attack and the subsequent acquittal of Sphodrias, the Athenians furnished the Piraeus with gates, set about building ships, and “gave aid to the

1. Among the most important works: Parke, “Development,” 75; Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 110 (the Second Athenian Confederacy was “based on the alliance between Athens and Thebes”); Bengtson, Geschichte, 276 (“nominally”); Cargill, League, 102; Cartledge, Agesilaos, 375–376; Buck, Boiotia, 93; Seager, “Confederacy,” 168; Dreher, “Poleis,” 171, 173; Cawkwell, Thucydides, 103; Stylianou, Commentary, 246, 252, 322; Welwei, Athen, 280; Debord, L’Asie Mineure, 285, 286–287; Buckler, Greece, 225–226, 238, 300; Rhodes, History, 265, 267; Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 38, 42, 138. 2. Diod. 15.28.5 (before the attack of Sphodrias), 15.29.7 (after this attack). See preceding note.

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Boeotians with all zeal.” Xenophon, who disliked the Thebans, would have been eager to point to Thebes’ participation in the Confederacy led by Athens. However, he says nothing about this matter in the Hellenica, whereas elsewhere he speaks broadly about the Athenian “leadership”: “[D]id not the Thebans place themselves under the leadership of the Athenians (ἡγεμονεύειν αὑτῶν ἔδωκαν Ἀθηναίοις) in return for our good offices? Yet once again, it was not the effect of coercion on our part, but of generous treatment, that the Lacedaemonians permitted the Athenians to arrange the leadership as they chose (ἐπέτρεψαν Ἀθηναίοις περὶ τῆς ἡγεμονίας θέσθαι ὅπως βούλοιντο).” The latter phrase refers to the alliance concluded between Athens and Sparta, and their respective allies, in 369. Xenophon uses the word hegemonia here, therefore, in a very broad sense, probably reflecting the fact that the proposal for this alliance came from the Spartans. Thus, we should not put too much weight on the Athenian hegemonia in the first phrase either: here, too, the “Athenian leadership” referred to the treaty of alliance. According to Plutarch, after Sphodrias’s attack, the Athenians “with the greatest zeal renewed their alliance with the Thebans” and became active on the sea. Neither Diodoros nor these two authors thus say that the Thebans ever became a member of the Second Confederacy. Plutarch’s words about Athens’ “renewal of the alliance with Thebes” might refer to their alliance of 395, which obviously had to be dissolved after the King’s Peace. However, Diodoros makes a clear distinction between those Greeks who allied themselves with Athens and her allies on the one hand, and members of the Athenian alliance (i.e., the Second Confederacy) on the other. It was possible, therefore, to be an ally of Athens (or of Athens and her Confederacy) without being a member of this Confederacy. This was obviously the status of those cities that had made an alliance with Athens before the emergence of the Second Confederacy, that is, in the late 380s (such as Chios and probably Chalcis) and early 370s (such as Mytilene, Byzantium, and Methymna), which were mentioned together with several other cities in the “charter of the Second Athenian Confederacy” under the heading “The Allies of Athens.” The same document

3. Xen. Hellen. 5.4.34. 4. Cf. Xen. Poroi 5.7. 5. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.1-14 (see Appendix 2). 6. Plut. Pelop. 15.1. 7. R&O 6 = IG II 14 = GHI 101 = Syll. 122 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 223, with Cawkwell, Thucydides, 94. See also FGrH 328 (Philochoros) F 148 with Harding, in The Story of Athens, 143, who believed that this excerpt from Philochoros referred to the treaty of alliance between Athens and “the Boeotians” in 395. 8. E.g., Plut. Pelop. 14.1 with J. C. Trevett, “Demosthenes and Thebes,” Historia 48 (1999): 189, on Athens and Thebes already “acting in concert” in Chalcidice in 382, and Xen. Hellen. 5.2.15 on the Athenians and “Boeotians” negotiating with Olynthus about an alliance in 383–382. On Thebes and Olynthus: Hornblower, Greek World, 231. On the symmachia (?) between Athens and Thebes: IG II 40 (= Staatsverträge 2, no. 255). 1–10 (378–377 b.c.). 9. Chios: R&O 20 (= IG II 34 = GHI 118 = Syll. 142 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 248) (384–383 b.c.). Chalcis: IG II 44 = GHI 124 = Syll. 148 (384–383 b.c.), but see next note. 10. Mytilene and Thebes: IG II 40 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 255 (378–377). Byzantium: IG II 41 = GHI 121 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 256 (378 b.c.). Methymna: R&O 23 = IG II 42 = GHI 122 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 258 (378–377 b.c.?), and probably Chalcis, depending on the dating of this inscription: IG II 44 = GHI 124 = Syll. 148 (with Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 40–42: 379–378 b.c.) = Staatsverträge 2, no. 259 (377 b.c.) with Stylianou, Commentary, 227, 270 (“midsummer 377”) and the same opinion in Brun, Impérialisme, no. 47. 11. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).78–83 (377 b.c.).

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expressly claims that future allies of Athens and her Confederacy will be in the same position as Chios and Thebes, thus implying that the latter two were not among the members of the Confederacy: ἐπὶ δὲ τ[οˆι ς] αὐτοˆι ς ἐφ’ οἷσπερ Χˆι οι καὶ Θηβαˆι οι κα[ὶ] οἱ ἄλλοι σύμμαχοι. When one looks at this grouping of Athenian allies, it is tempting to view it as a continuation (though not necessarily a direct one) of the practice that had existed in the time of the Athenian arche in the fifth century, when the allies of Athens were divided (at least nominally) into (i) “independent (autonomous) allies,” that is, those that contributed ships for joint operations and were thus equal in status to Athens; and (ii) “subject allies” that were subordinate to Athens and contributed (sometimes, as a result of the use of force) tribute to the Athenians. The first group comprised the allies of Athens, whereas the second comprised the members of her alliance. The prominence of Chios in both the Athenian arche in the fifth century and in the Second Confederacy seems to be significant—the most important allies of Athens were big naval powers: according to Aristotle, Chios, Lesbos, and Samos occupied a special position in the Athenian arche. Isocrates shows that Athenian allies were divided into the same two groups in the 350s, that is, those that helped her militarily, and those that paid contributions (syntaxeis) and obeyed orders. Epigraphic evidence confirms that some Athenian allies, such as Andros, contributed the syntaxis in the 350s. The book by Patrice Brun, the only existing specific treatment of the syntaxis, did not distinguish between Athenian allies that paid this contribution and those that did not, probably because Brun believed strongly that all Athenian allies were members of the Second Confederacy, as he also demonstrated elsewhere. In his opinion, therefore, even the Thebans, who are only attested as having contributed ships for joint naval campaigns with Athens, were expected to pay the syntaxis as well, because he thought that Thebes was a member of the Second Confederacy. But this can hardly be considered a valid argument. Aeschines confirms that the same two groups of Athenian allies were still present in the 340s, whereas epigraphic sources show that the syntaxis continued to be contributed as late as

12. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).23–25 (377 b.c.). Cf. Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 83, who made a close conclusion, when they spoke of “two stages in the evolution of the Athenian League, in the first of which individual states allied themselves with Athens on the same terms as had the Chians and Thebans. Next, a number of other states created their broad alliance on equal terms.” 13. E.g., Thuc. 6.85.2 (see p. 19, n. 36). This division is thought to have been ignored in practice: de Ste. Croix, “Character,” 16–21; de Ste. Croix, Origins, 34, 307; Bickerman, “AUTONOMIA,” 328–330; M. Dreher, Hegemon und Symmachoi: Untersuchungen zum Zweiten Athenischen Seebund (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1995), 19–20. 14. Arist. Ath.Pol. 24.2. See also L. J. Samons II, Empire of the Owl: Athenian Imperial Finance (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2000), 91 (with n. 40): on the status of Athenian allies in the 450s as reflected by their presence on, or absence from, the quota list. He discussed the latter case, which concerned the allies that contributed not cash but ships, with reference to Samos, Chios, and Lindos. For their special status, see also p. 105. 15. Isocr. 7.1–2, dated to 358 or 357 b.c.: R. W. Wallace, in HSCP 90 (1986): 78. 16. IG II 123 (= GHI 156).11-12 (c.357–356 b.c.). 17. P. Brun, Eisphora—syntaxis stratiotika: Recherches sur les finances militaires d’Athènes au IVe siècle av. J.-C. (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1983), 74–76. 18. Brun, Eisphora—syntaxis stratiotika, 89; Brun, Impérialisme, 16, 139, 322. 19. The syntaxis: Brun, Eisphora—syntaxis stratiotika, 91–92; cf. p. 111 n. 3; the membership: ibid., 137.

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the 330s. The presence of the two groups of Athenian allies in the 340s is also revealed by the peace of Philocrates, which was concluded between “the Athenians and their allies” on the one hand, and Philip II of Macedonia on the other. According to Demosthenes, the Athenian envoys “had failed to draw the treaty, as they first tried to do, that is with a clause excepting the Halians and the Phocians (ὡς ἐπεχείρησαν οὗτοι τὸ πρῶτον “πλὴν Ἁλέων καὶ Φωκέων” γράψαι), and Philocrates had been compelled by you to erase those words and write expressly, ‘the Athenians and the allies of the Athenians’ (Ἀθηναίους καὶ τοὺς Ἀθηναίων συμμάχους).” This evidence has caused a great deal of controversy, because, as Kahrstedt correctly noted, there was no need to specifically mention Halys and Phocaea, irrespective of whether or not these two cities were Athenian allies. Kahrstedt’s “allies,” of course, meant members of the Second Athenian Confederacy because the Athenian allies that swore to the peace of Philocrates in 346 are thought to have included only the members of the Second Athenian Confederacy. If Halys and Phocaea were members of the Confederacy, the general clause would have covered them anyway. If they did not belong to the Second Athenian Confederacy and, therefore, received no protection from the peace arranged between Athens and Philip, that is, even if they might have been allies of Athens alone, why were they the only two cities to be mentioned? An argument can be made that Halys and Phocaea, although not members of the Confederacy, were represented at the synderion with a status similar to that of the members. This situation seems to have been close to what had happened in 371, when Athens specifically invited Thebes to join in the new (Sparta) Peace, whereas the members of the Second Athenian Confederacy, although expected to swear individually to this Peace, were supposed to merely follow Athens. The fact that the two groups of Athenian allies continued to be organized on the same principles in the 370s, 350s, 340s, and 330s (although their rights and responsibilities were not necessarily the same as those of the Athenian allies in the fifth century) certainly once again raises a question about the nature of this document, which was referred to as the “Prospectus of the Second Athenian League” in the recently published authoritative corpus of Greek inscriptions. The presence of Thebes in this document neither does nor is able to prove, therefore, Theban participation in the Second Athenian Confederacy. At best, we can speak about a Theban affiliation with that Confederacy. It is also noteworthy that we hear of “the Boeotians” immediately after the liberation of the Cadmea, both before the attack of Sphodrias on the Piraeus (when Diodoros speaks of the “unity” of the Boeotians around Thebes) and after this attack (when Xenophon refers to resumed military cooperation between Athens and Thebes). Such evidence allows us to

20. Aeschin. 2.86, 3.74; Brun, Eisphora—syntaxis stratiotika, 76–83. 21. Dem. 19.159; see also 19.278. 22. See a summary of opinions in Staatsverträge 2, pp. 314–318, and, more recently, Worthington, Philip II, 98–99. 23. Kahrstedt, Unteruschungen, 132–133. 24. E.g., N. Sawada, in Kodai. Journal of Ancient History 4 (1993): 23, 25; MacDowell, Demosthenes, 321. 25. As A. Efstathiou, in Historia 53 (2004): 391–392. 26. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.2 (see n. 46 below). 27. Diod. 15.38.3. 28. Cf. Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 100: “a prospectus, inviting states outside the area reserved in the Peace of Antalcidas for Persia to join an already existing League” (italics added). 29. Diod. 15.28.1; Xen. Hellen. 5.4.34 (see n. 3 above).

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suggest that the resurrection of the Boeotian Federation began very soon after the liberation of the Cadmea. Still, when it comes to the alliance that was (re)established with Athens and the affiliation with the Second Athenian Confederacy, our sources—both literary (such as the texts of Diodoros and Plutarch) and inscriptional (the decree of Aristotle)— speak only of “the Thebans.” This evidence has been used for dating the restoration of the Boeotian Federation, and of the boeotarchy in particular, to after the foundation of the Second Athenian Confederacy. The above-mentioned literary evidence implies, however, that the use of either “the Thebans” or “the Boeotians” should not necessarily be explained only in chronological terms. On the one hand, the Athenians obviously did not want to acknowledge the Boeotian Federation by making a treaty with it as a whole; for the same reason, a few years later the Athenians would strongly disagree with Thebes’ attempt at swearing on behalf of her allies to the Peace of 375. On the other hand, the Second Athenian Confederacy allowed only individual participation, and the Thebans, of course, did not want to be listed alongside Theban allies; they would assume this same stance at the debates of the treaties of Peace in 375 and 371. References to “the Thebans” and “the Boeotians” concerned, therefore, different political entities: the Boeotian Federation began to be refounded soon after the liberation of the Cadmea, hence references to “the Boeotians.” However, since the Thebans did not want to abandon their leadership of Boeotia by swearing to the Athenian Confederacy alongside their Boeotian allies, and since Athens did not want to acknowledge the Boeotian Federation, the only alliance that the Thebans could make was that between their city and Athens; hence ancient sources make references only to “the Thebans.” The next piece of evidence that has been used to prove the participation of Thebes in the Second Athenian Confederacy is an inscription from 372 b.c. It was discovered in 1936, published by Oliver, and then republished by Wilhelm and Accame. This inscription is thought to have consisted of two decrees: one by the Athenians and the other by the synedrion of the Second Confederacy. The second decree, which interests us the most, reads as follows:

30. For suggested datings, see p. 39, nn. 169–172. 31. Diod. 15.28.5, 15.29.7; Plut. Pelop. 15.1 (see nn. 2 and 6 above); R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).23–25 (see n. 12 above) and 74–75, 79 (377 b.c.), with Thiel, “De synoecismo Boeotiae,” 22. Cf. Dem. 14.34, 38–39: on the prospect of “the Thebans” changing sides and allying themselves with the Spartans. 32. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 275–276; Dreher, “Poleis,” 178. Pace B. Bleckmann, Fiktion als Geschichte: Neue Studien zum Autor der Hellenika Oxyrhynchia und zur Historiographie des vierten vorchristlichen Jahrhunderts (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006), 83, on “Boeotians” and “Thebans” in such places as de facto synonyms. 33. Cf. Diod. 15.38.2-4. 34. Cf. Buckler, “Survey,” 324, and Rhodes, History, 283: “perhaps the Thebans were trying to join the League in the name of Boeotia, and Athens was resisting.” However, what prevented the Thebans from changing their status as representing all the Boeotians later on (and eventually leaving the Confederacy altogether, if they were not allowed to do so), i.e., similar to what they did at the Peace conference in 375 and, again, in 371? 35. J. H. Oliver, “Inscriptions from Athens,” AJA 40 (1936): 461–463, no. 2; A. Wilhelm, Vier Beschlüsse der Athener (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1940), 3–12, no. 1; Accame, La lega, 230. 36. SEG 31, 67.14-23 = R&O 29.ii.

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ἐπὶ Ἀ[σ]τ[ε]ί[ο] ἄρχοντος, Σκιροφο− [ριῶνος] ἕνηι κ.α.. ὶ [νέα]ι, ἐ[πιψηφί]ζοντος [.]υ[ . . . Θ]ηβαίο, ἔδοξεν τ[οˆι ]ς [συ]μμάχοις· [μ]η.δ. [έν]α. οἴκω[ν] ἤκ.λ.[ήρο] ἐ.[ξελάσ]α.ι καὶ μη− · δ. ὲν. [πρᾶ]ξαι βίαιο[ν] π.α.ρ.[ὰ] τάδε· ἐ[ά]ν τις ἀ− ποκ[τείν]ηι, [τ]ε. θ.[ν]ά.[ν]αι καὶ τ[ὸ]ς α[ἰ]τίος τ− õ θα[νάτ]ο. υ. κ.ρ.[ˆι ]ν.αι [δῆ]μον καὶ [βο]λὴν κατ− ὰ τὸς [θ]εσμός· ἐ.[ὰν] δ.[έ] τ.ις [ἐξελ]α.ύ.[ν]ηι ἢ φυ− γαδε.[ύ]η. ι [τιν]ὰ. π.αρὰ τ.ὸ[ς θεσ]μὸς καὶ τὸ [ψ−] [ή]φι[σμα τ]ό.[δ]’ ἄ.[τιμ]ος [ἔ]σ[τω . . . ]ανες [..] This inscription has been interpreted by Oliver and those following him as referring to a decision of the Second Confederacy, which was adopted at the synedrion presided over by a Theban. This interpretation can hardly be the only possibility, however. There is no indication in this text that the Theban who made the proposal was a member of the synedrion, much less its “president,” even though this is possible if, as we have seen above, the Thebans had been admitted into the synderion “on equal terms.” Oliver referred to this inscription as “the first of its kind to be preserved.” It has remained the only such document of this type since then because, it seems, the proposal was put forward not by a regular member of the Confederacy but by an ally and was then accepted by the “confederates” (ἔδοξεν τ[οˆι ]ς [συ]μμάχοις). The content of this proposal, which served to protect the political and economic stability of individual cities, may have reflected the growing tensions between Thebes and Athens in the late 370s, when each of them tried to pull the allies of the other over to her side (see below). If this interpretation is correct, this decree offers another insight into the uneasy relationship between Athens and Thebes at that time. In the end, the decree only confirms what we have read in Diodoros: the Thebans participated in the synedrion on equal terms with the members of the Second Confederacy. Like the text of Diodoros, and those of Xenophon and Plutarch, this decree offers no concrete proof that Thebes was a member of the Second Confederacy. Finally, a list of Athenian ships, in the form of the tabula curatorum navalium, from 373–372, refers to two ships “returned” by “the Thebans.” The regular, and therefore quite ordinary,

37. Oliver, “Inscriptions,” 463: “a Theban put the decree to a vote in the Synedrion of the Allies”; Accame, La lega, 231–235; J. A. O. Larsen, Representative Government in Greek and Roman History (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1955), 61; Larsen, States, 176; Cargill, League, 163–164 (with his translation of ll.17–23); Rhodes and Osborne, ad R&O 29.ii (see next note); Rhodes, History, 267. 38. Diod. 15.29.7 (see also n. 2 above). Cf., e.g., the commentary by P. J. Rhodes and R. Osborne ad R&O 29.ii (on p. 149): “the synedrion was presided over not by an Athenian but by one of its own members.” 39. Oliver, “Inscriptions,” 463. 40. Cf. Bengtson in Staatsverträge 2, no. 268: “Beschluss der Bundesgenossen des 2. Attische Seebundes (372, Sommer),” who avoided discussing the presence of a Theban in this text. 41. A similar view has been offered by Accame (La lega, 235–244) and accepted by Cargill, League, 163–165, who, however, interpreted both decrees as referring to the secession of member states from the Second Confederacy and believed that Thebes belonged to the Second Confederacy as well. 42. IG II 1607.49: [nomen triremis τῶν ἀνεπ]ικληρώτων· ταύτην ἀπέδοσ[αν] Θηβα[ˆι ]οι ἀν[επίσκευον—] and 155: Ἀφροδισία, ἣν Θ[ηβαˆι οι ἀπ]έδοσαν· ταύτη[ι δεˆι τὰ ξύλινα] σκεύη Χαλκ[ιδέα παραθεˆι ναι] καὶ ἐπισκ[ευάσαι τὴν ναῦν—] (373–372 b.c.).

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type of this document; the use of the verb ἀποδίδωμι, and the reference to “the Thebans,” that is, not “the Boeotians,” all suggest that this information should be taken at its face value: at some point in the past the Thebans returned these ships to Athens, as the two sides had previously agreed. This tabula may have reflected Thebes’ participation in Athenian naval operations: a speech from the Demosthenic corpus mentions payments the Athenian made to the “Boeotian trierarchs.” Judeich, Cloché, and, more recently, Dreher and Stylianou have interpreted this information as reflecting the events of 373 and as concerning Thebes’ membership in the Second Confederacy. In their opinion, therefore, Theban membership in this Confederacy lasted until at least 373. However, this evidence can also pertain to the Theban refusal to contribute money for joint naval operations, which, together with other reasons, eventually led the Athenians to subscribe to the Peace of Sparta in 375, as Xenophon says. On the eve of the Sparta Peace of 371, according to Xenophon, the Athenians specifically contacted Thebes concerning Athens’ plan to establish peace with Sparta. Surprisingly, this passage from Xenophon has been ignored in debates dealing with the problem of Thebes’ participation in the Second Confederacy, even though Georg Busolt pointed to it a long time ago as proof that Thebes was not a member of the Confederacy by early 371, thus assuming Theban membership in the Confederacy prior to that time. But these words by Xenophon show that Thebes and Athens continued to cooperate closely, which would be unlikely if Thebes had just departed from the Second Confederacy. This cooperation, therefore, existed within the framework of their own alliance, as Cloché suggested in a later work. In sum, the debate about when Thebes ceased to be a member of the Second Confederacy becomes problematic in itself because—in the absence of any clear and direct information to the contrary—one can just as easily postulate that Thebes never became a member of the Second Confederacy at all. It is certain, however, that the Thebans were Athenian allies, and as such they were affiliated with the Second Confederacy. After all, the decree of Aristotle mentions them together with other allies of Athens and the Second Confederacy. It is possible, therefore, to ask a question about the date when the Thebans’ alliance with Athens and their affiliation with the Second Confederacy came to an end. Meyer, Marshall, and Hornblower thought that the Thebans left the Second Confederacy when they refused to subscribe to the Sparta Peace in 371. The Thebans wanted to swear to that Peace on behalf of other Boeotian

43. So also, e.g., Dreher, Hegemon, 30–31. 44. [Dem.] 49.14, 48-54; Judeich, “Athen und Theben,” 183, 185; Cloché, La politique, 74; Dreher, Hegemon, 21–24, 32–34; Stylianou, Commentary, 322. See also MacDowell, Demosthenes, 104 and 105-106 (on the date of the speech: either the early or the late 360s). 45. Xen. Hellen. 6.2.1; see also Diod. 15.38.3–4 (see n. 51 below). Cf. Bengtson, Geschichte, 276–278, who presented the Peace of 375 as an anti-Theban arrangement of Sparta and Athens. Pace Buckler, “Survey,” 324. For conflicts between Athens and Thebes concerning naval operations: Hornblower, Greek World, 239. 46. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.2. Busolt, Bund, 786–787. 47. Cloché, Thèbes, 117–126, on Thebes “supplying several ships to the Athenians” in 373 (with reference to [Dem.] 49 and IG II 1607), 137, carefully avoiding any mention of Thebes’ participation in the Confederacy. 48. A summary of the evidence: Dreher, Hegemon, 84–86. 49. Also Brunt, “Euboea,” 245, on Athens and Thebes as allies “from 395 to 386, and again from 378 to 371,” without referring to Thebes’ participation in the Confederacy. 50. Meyer, Geschichte, 5:396–397; F. H. Marshall, The Second Athenian Confederacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1905), 73–74; Hornblower, Greek World, 242; cf. Buckler, Greece, 285. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19-20.

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cities; this move was opposed by the Athenians. Yet the Athenians had made similar protests at the Peace of 375 as well. This whole episode has been reinterpreted by those trying to establish some sort of causal connection between a city’s participation in the Second Confederacy and this city’s partaking in the Peace of 375. For example, V. J. Gray argued that “Thebes was a member of the Athenian Confederacy in 373 which would have been impossible if she had not sworn to the peace of 375,” and John Buckler believed that “as a free ally of Athens and its other allies [sic], Thebes retained its autonomy and freedom, and thus could sign in its own right.” But this is precisely what the Thebans did not want to do: they preferred to sign treaties of Peace on behalf of the Boeotians, whereas the Peace of 375 denied them this right by formally protecting the “freedom” and “autonomy” of Greek cities, including those of Boeotia, which were required to join this Peace on an individual basis. For the reason that every city was supposed to swear individually, the fact that the Thebans signed the Peace of 375 only in their own name does not offer an indication about Thebes’ relationship with either Athens or the Second Athenian Confederacy. The same would happen in 371: all cities were required to swear individually to this new Peace, because the Peace of 371 (quite like those of 386 and 375) protected the “freedom” and “autonomy” of all Greek cities, including those of Boeotia. The Thebans eventually refused: swearing to this Peace only for themselves would have meant rejecting their claim to control Boeotia. It is clear that the refusal of Thebes to join the Sparta Peace of 371 had no relevance to Thebes’ affiliation with Athens and the Second Confederacy. Two more relevant episodes need to be examined. One of them is that after the establishment of the Sparta Peace of 371 but prior to the battle of Leuctra the Thebans sent their families to Athens for safety. Admittedly, this fact by itself neither proves nor disproves the existence of a formal treaty between the two cities: in what looks like a similar case, many Thebans fled for refuge to Athens when Phoebidas occupied the Cadmea in 382, that is, when it was unlikely that there was any formal treaty between Athens and Thebes. Still, the information about the retreat of Theban families to Athens in 371 demonstrates cordial relations between the two cities on the eve of the battle of Leuctra, which would have been out of place if Thebes had just left the Second Confederacy. The second such episode is the refusal of Athens and other members of the Second Confederacy (as we know them from the decree of Aristotle) to help the Thebans at Leuctra, which can be explained by the fact that the Sparta Peace, similar to the King’s Peace and the Peace of 375, did not acknowledge military alliances. Although they were Theban allies, the Athenians preferred to not break the Sparta Peace; they had behaved in the same way in 387, when they refused to help the Thebans against Sparta and renounced their alliance with Thebes, and in 385, when the Athenians had declined to help Mantinea against the Spartans, even though Athens and Mantinea had a treaty of alliance: had the Athenians provided help to Thebes or to Mantinea in the mid-380s, it would have been a breach of the King’s Peace. On both occasions, therefore, Athens was formally in the right. 51. Diod. 15.38.3–4. 52. Gray, “A Case Study,” 310 n. 15; Buckler, “Survey,” 324. 53. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19; Diod. 15.50.4. 54. See, e.g., the argument between Agesilaos and Epaminondas (p. 21, n. 53). 55. Diod. 15.52.1. Schwenk, “Athens,” 8, referred to the Thebans as an ally of Athens at the time of Leuctra. 56. Xen. Hellen. 5.2.25-5.2.31; Isocr. 14.28; IG II 37; Plut. Pelop. 6.2–3 for Theban exiles who were outlawed. 57. Thebes: Plut. Pelop. 14.1 (see n. 8 above). Mantinea: Diod. 15.5.5 (see p. 29, n. 97); their alliance, which also included Argos and Elis, required military help if member states were assaulted: Staatsverträge 2, no. 193 (420); Seager, “Confederacy,” 156–157.

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Cargill and Buckler have suggested that “Thebes’ definitive separation” from the Second Confederacy resulted from the signing of the Athens Peace, reasoning from the fact that, according to Buckler, the Second Confederacy “had refused to protect [Thebes] in the face of the Spartan threat.” But this rationale is valid only if one assumes that Thebes participated in the Second Confederacy. And the Sparta Peace, to which Athens had just sworn, forbade military alliances, as did the Peace of 375 to which Thebes had subscribed earlier. The Athenians, therefore, had no formal obligation to help Thebes militarily, that is, just as they were not obliged to help Thebes and Mantinea in the mid-380s. The Athens Peace and the Second Confederacy were certainly two different matters. How could the provision about compulsory help to the “wronged parties” (which Cargill and Buckler associated with the Athens Peace) alienate Thebes from the Second Confederacy if Thebes were a member of the Second Confederacy (which, according to the decree of Aristotle, obliged its members to help each other) and if Thebes did not participate in the Athens Peace? Another argument has been that while reference to the Thebans has been preserved in the decree of Aristotle (ll.24–25, 79), one to Jason, the tyrant of Pherae in Thessaly and an ally of Athens, is absent. If the name of Jason was erased after his death in 370, as some have suggested, the Thebans could have remained affiliated with the Confederacy even after 370. Of course, this is just a possibility. We do not know if Jason was mentioned in this place at all, and if he was, much depends on whether Jason was a member of the Second Confederacy or a separate ally of Athens. The possibility that Jason had a separate alliance with Athens has already been examined. Political developments after the battle of Leuctra show that the relationship between Athens and Thebes was finally severed in 370. Soon after that battle and the establishment of the Athens Peace, the Arcadians and the Elaeans appealed to Athens, suggesting that an alliance against Sparta be formed. On receiving no response, they turned to the Thebans, who arrived and established their own domination in the Peloponnese. According to Xenophon, it was at this point that the Athenians realized that the balance was being tipped to the Theban side and gave floor to the ambassadors from Sparta and her allies. Debates followed, and the decision to help Sparta against Thebes was reached. The Athenians would later consider their refusal to help the Arcadians in 370 to have been one of their biggest mistakes, one that furthered the position of Thebes.

58. Cargill, League, 165, 192; Buckler, Greece, 300. But see Buckler and Beck, Central Greece, 42–43: “by refusing to agree to the Spartan Peace of 371 the Thebans had put themselves outside of the Confederacy.” 59. The death of Jason: Xen. Hellen. 6.4.20–32; Diod. 15.54.5. This opinion: Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 444, who dated the alleged erasure of Jason’s name from the stele to “before 371”; Jehne, “Symmachie,” 133; Dreher, “Poleis,” 175, 186; Hornblower, Greek World, 240; S. Sprawski, Jason of Pherae: A Study on History of Thessaly in Years 431–370 b.c. (Krakow: Jagiellonian University Press, 1999), 84–89. 60. E.g., Gray, “A Case Study,” 312–313 (with reservations); Jehne, “Symmachie,” 123, 125–126 (whose idea that Jason participated in the Second Athenian Confederacy was largely based on his a priori acknowledgment of Thebes’ membership in this Confederacy: 124, 132–134); Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 105. 61. Cargill, League, 83–87; J. Cargill, in Ancient World 27 (1996): 49–50; Seager, “Confederacy,” 177; Sprawski, Jason, 89, 93; with bibliography in Cargill, ibid., 49 n. 55. 62. Athens: Dem. 16.12 and Diod. 15.62.3. Thebes: Xen. Hellen. 6.5.19-20, 6.5.22-32. Cf. Paus. 8.6.2. 63. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.33-49. See also Appendix 2. 64. Dem. 16.12; see Cloché, La politique, 100–102; Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 265–266.

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Xenophon’s words also mean that the embassy of the Spartans and their allies was already in Athens at the time of the Theban invasion of the Peloponnese. However, the ambassadors were invited to speak only after the Theban invasion, which shows that the Athenian attitude toward Thebes changed only when it became clear that the Thebans wanted not only to demolish the dominance of Sparta but to establish their own in its place. Something else that the Athenians probably considered before allying themselves with Sparta was the threat from Thebes to the Second Confederacy. This surfaced in 370 when Euboea, a former member of the Second Confederacy, supplied its military contingents to Thebes. Another former Athenian ally, the Acarnanians, went over to Thebes at the same time. The Thebans built a hundred triremes as well as dockyards and made Rhodes, Chios, and Byzantium friendly to Thebes by forcing the Athenian general Laches to sail away with his fleet. The alliance led by Thebes was eclipsing the Second Confederacy, thus provoking an open competition between the two military alliances. It is hard, therefore, to consider the decision of the Athenians to establish an alliance with Sparta as a “short-sighted, wasteful, and politically dangerous” policy. In a similar fashion, the Athenians tried to pull away Spartan allies in 371. The Thebans would attempt to do the same by inviting Spartan allies to join the (failed) Thebes Peace in 367 (when the ambassadors of Thebes went first to Corinth) before establishing separate treaties of peace with them in 366–365. For these reasons, it is possible that the affiliation of Thebes with the Second Confederacy lasted, at least nominally, until 370, that is, as Cawkwell has suggested, even though he referred to Thebes’ “membership” in the Second Confederacy, of course. In 369, Athens and Thebes stepped onto a collision course over Thessaly, so that the Athenians sent the expedition of Iphicrates to Amphipolis and concluded an alliance with Sparta.

65. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.33. 66. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.23 on the Arcadians, Argives, Eleans, Euboeans, Locrians, Acarnanians, Heracleots, Malians, and Thessalians as on the side of the Thebans after Leuctra. Brunt, “Euboea,” 247, and Buckler, Greece, 297, thought that the Euboeans (as well as Chalcis, Eretria, Carystos, and Histiaia) seceded from the Second Confederacy and joined the Theban side immediately after Leuctra, i.e., in 371; pace Busolt, Bund, 796; Cloché, La politique, 131; Cawkwell, “Euboea,” 45: the Euboeans left the Confederacy by the winter of 370–369; and J. Buckler, in Polis & Politics: Studies in Ancient Greek History (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2000), 438: on the Acarnanians joining the Boeotian Federation in 370 b.c. 67. Diod. 15.79.1 with Debord, L’Asie Mineure, 297–299. 68. Roy, “Thebes,” 188–189. 69. E.g., Nepos, Epam. 6.1-2. For this alliance, see Appendix 2. 70. Buckler, Greece, 310, 312. 71. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.1 and 7.1.40, respectively. See Appendix 3. 72. Hornblower, Mausolus, 195–196; Buckler, “Survey,” 328: “The formal end of the alliance [sic] came with Epaminondas’ first invasion of the Peloponnesos, when the Athenians entered into a formal alliance with Sparta against Thebes.” The expedition of Iphicrates: Aeschin. 2.27; Dem. 23.149. See Appendix 2.

Appendix 2

sparta’s alleged participation in the athens peace

i There is no direct evidence that Sparta joined the Athens Peace of 371 after the battle of Leuctra as an individual participant, even though such has been the dominant opinion. What is usually referred to as proof of the Spartan participation in this Peace are (i) the Spartan embassy of 369 to Athens, when the Spartan request for military help was eventually fulfilled with reference to “oaths”; (ii) the interrelationship between Sparta and Mantinea after the Spartan defeat at Leuctra; and (iii) the Athenian honorific decree of 368 for Dionysios I of Sicily and his sons. For the present investigation, the problem of whether the Spartans participated in the Athens Peace is important, first and foremost, because it leads to a better understanding of how the King’s Peace had degenerated by the 360s. The Spartans who addressed the Athenian assembly in 369 did not refer to any oaths, at least not in the text by Xenophon. After the Spartan ambassadors had completed their speeches, Xenophon noted that “the majority opinion was that they should help according to the oaths.” This phrase has been considered ambiguous with respect to whose “opinion” this was, as it could refer either to the ambassadors or to the Athenians. The first person mentioned by Xenophon individually as having referred to the “oaths” of Athens was a Corinthian Cleiteles, who spoke of Athens’ responsibility to help not Sparta but Corinth. According to him, the Corinthians had not done anything wrong since the conclusion of the peace, but their land and property were being damaged by Thebes. The implication was that, although the

1. E.g., Cloché, La politique, 96–98; Sordi, Scritti, 3–4; Amit, Great and Small Poleis, 175; Buckler, Hegemony, 253; Buckler, Greece, 305; Tuplin, Failings, 115; Jehne, Eirene, 75; Riedinger, Étude, 32 n. 1; Seager, “Confederacy,” 186; Badian, “Ghost,” 93; Rhodes, History, 271; cf. Cawkwell, Wars, 185: “uncertain but probable,” 292-299. Pace Dienelt, “Bund,” 267–269. 2. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.36. Lewis, “Athens Peace,” 30.

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Athenians were not obliged to intervene, the Peace had been broken by Thebes, and the Athenians had a duty to help restore it. Cleiteles’s next phrase—“you yourselves took care to have all of us swear to all of you”—was, therefore, hardly enigmatic: it referred to the oath sworn to the Sparta Peace by the Spartans on behalf of the Peloponnesian League. This is why the Spartan embassy had arrived in Athens along with the remaining allies of Sparta: it was only natural that the ambassadors were going to appeal to the Sparta Peace, since the Spartans had sworn to this peace on behalf of themselves and their allies. Not surprisingly, therefore, the next person to speak, according to Xenophon’s description, was Procles from the city Phliasos (another ally of Sparta), who reiterated the same two points: by joining into the alliance with Sparta, Athens would help the Spartan allies and would act on behalf of all of Greece. “Oaths” were mentioned, as we can see from Xenophon’s text, but only by the Spartan allies. Although Athens had sworn to the Sparta Peace, that Peace did not oblige its participants to help wronged parties. The irony of the situation was that this provision—which made up the essence of the treaty of Peace that formally protected the “autonomy” and “freedom” of the Greeks in this way as well—had surely been supported, if not enforced, by Sparta herself, for the purpose of making her control over Greek cities more secure. Suggestions have been made that this provision was introduced specifically to protect the interests of Athens and against Sparta. But, first, partaking in the Peace and being a member of a military alliance were two different things (so that this provision, if implemented, undermined the existence of military alliances as such), and, second, the provision that participants in the Peace were not obliged to help “wronged parties” had already been included in the King’s Peace and in the Peace of 375, for the simple reason that these treaties did not recognize the existence of military alliances, which was then in Sparta’s best interests. This provision in the Sparta Peace of 371 was probably modeled on a similar clause of the King’s Peace, which laid down the principles that every subsequent treaty of Peace would claim, if only formally, to uphold. But it backfired after Leuctra: in the debates that took place in the Athenian assembly, “there [were] appeals to χάρις and to self-interest, but nowhere the slightest suggestion that Athens has any legal obligation to Sparta.” The reaction of the Athenians to the appeals of Sparta and her allies absolutely corresponds to this provision of the Sparta Peace, as recorded by Xenophon: “[A]ny which so desired might aid the injured cities, but any which did not so desire, was not under oath to be the ally of those who were injured.” Despite this, following the speeches of ambassadors and deliberations in the assembly, the Athenians decided that it was in their interests to help Sparta and other “injured cities.” Where, then, do the “oaths” mentioned by Xenophon belong? The following explanation can be proposed. Any Peace required oaths from its participants, regardless of whether they 3. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.37: ὅπως πᾶσιν ὑμˆι ν πάντες ἡμεˆι ς ὀμόσαντες. 4. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.33. Their possible identification: Lewis, “Athens Peace,” 30. 5. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.44. 6. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18. 7. Ryder, “Policy,” 293; Ryder, Eirene, 68; Stylianou, Commentary, 168: “against the Spartan habit of forcing unwilling allies to campaign against states accused of alleged breaches of the Peace”; cf. Hornblower Greek World, 242: the Sparta Peace of 371 “contained a new and interesting clause: those who did not want to fight to defend the peace were not bound to do so.” 8. Cf. the threat of the Great King to those who were going to break the King’s Peace in Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31. 9. Lewis, “Athens Peace,” 31. 10. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18. 11. Cf. Ryder, “Peace,” 199.

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were obliged to help each other. If there was such an obligation, the oath probably had to be modified accordingly, such as the oath of the participants in the Athens Peace. Xenophon’s reference to the Sparta Peace shows that although its participants were “not under oath” to help each other, they still were bound by oaths to respect the Peace. Another such example is, of course, the King’s Peace itself: although Greek cities were required to swear oaths that they would respect it, they were not under oath to provide military help to each other—the Great King (nominally) and the Spartans (in fact) were the champions of this Peace. Thus even though the “oaths” were mentioned during the negotiations, they did not oblige the Athenians to help Sparta or her allies. Because the oaths of the Sparta Peace did not require its participants to offer military assistance to wronged parties and, therefore, could not serve as the basis for military cooperation between Athens and Sparta, a military alliance had to be established through a separate treaty, which they did in the spring of 369. This treaty would have been unnecessary if Sparta shared in the Athens Peace, whose participants were obliged to protect each other militarily. The fact that the Spartans did not attack Mantinea after its citizens had decreed that they would restore its walls can be explained by Sparta’s weakness and low prestige immediately after Leuctra, as well as by the support that Mantinea received from other Greek cities. After the Mantineans assaulted their perennial foe, the city of Tegea, in 370, the Spartans decided to start a campaign against Mantinea κατὰ τοὺς ὅρκους, because the Mantineans had attacked Tegea παρὰ τοὺς ὅρκους. An opinion that these “oaths” were relevant to the Athens Peace derives, of course, from the acknowledgment of Sparta’s participation in this Peace. But the “oaths” did not necessarily have to be those made at the most recent Peace. On the one hand, the old oaths might still be valid, or could be claimed to be valid, a long time after they had been made. In a similar fashion, the “speech of Archidamos,” written by Isocrates as if for the congress at Sparta in 366, accused the Thebans of plans to colonize Messenia “contrary to the oaths and covenants.” In another speech, written about ten years later, Isocrates refers to the Thebans as having seized Thespiae, Plateae, and other cities “contrary to their oaths.” To what “oaths” and “covenants” could these be referring, if the Thebans had stayed out of the Sparta Peace and the Athens Peace in 371, while the Greeks had refused to subscribe to the Thebes Peace, or the Peace of Pelopidas, in 367? Most probably these were “oaths” and “covenants” of the King’s Peace, or the treaty of alliance between Thebes and Sparta in 386, or the Peace of 375, although, according to Diodoros, the Thebans did not participate in the Peace of 375 either. Some alliances (symmachiai) could include clauses containing, and acknowledging, territorial claims, as was the case of Athens’ alliance with three rulers from northern Greece in the mid-350s. But Sparta hardly needed such an acknowledgement in 386, and the existence of

12. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.18. 13. E.g., Isocr. 8.17 and 14.44: Thebes, 14.17: Athens. 14. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31 and 5.1.36; Isocr. 4.175. 15. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.1, 14; cf. Diod. 15.63.2, 15.67.1. See Accame, La lega, 166–167; Lewis, “Athens Peace,” 29. Cf. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 273; Beloch, Geschichte, 3(1):179: early summer 369. 16. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.5 and 6.5.10-11. E.g., J. Roy, in Historia 20 (1971): 571; Roy, “Thebes,” 190. 17. Isocr. 6.27, 8.17. 18. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.39–40 (see p. 399, n. 5). 19. Diod. 15.38.1–4. For further details, see p. 42, nn. 190–194. 20. R&O 53 = (IG II 127 = GHI 157 = Syll. 196).44–45 (356–355).

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an alliance between Thebes and Sparta in 386 has been questioned, whereas most modern authors speak in favor of Theban participation in the Peace of 375. The “speech of Archidamos,” therefore, most likely referred to the King’s Peace, either the original (386) or in its renewed and modified form (375). The same is true for the other speech of Isocrates, in which he accused the Thebans of holding Greek cities against “oaths” they had made. His On the Peace (355?) urged the Greeks to conclude a new Peace in the likeness of the King’s Peace—even though Isocrates provided his own interpretation of the King’s Peace— whereas his Plataicus (usually dated to 373–371), written in the follow-up of the destruction of Plataea in 373, said that even after the Athenians helped the Thebans to liberate their city in 379, the Thebans were ready to become slaves to the Spartans once again and to remain true to the oaths they had sworn. His words have generally been interpreted as referring to the King’s Peace, as, for example, by Cawkwell and Rhodes. Buckler has argued, however, that these “oaths” had nothing to do with the Theban oaths sworn in ratification of the King’s Peace because “the basis of the Common Peace was the concept of the autonomy of all Greek states (no matter how much the ideal, as articulated in the stipulation of the treaty, might be ignored in practice); and no treaty enjoined on participants the requirements or the obligations of alliance with the champion (prostates) of the Peace.” According to him, therefore, the Thebans would have been no more obliged to follow Sparta than was Athens or any other signatory to the peace and, thus, there is no reason to accept Cawkwell’s view that the oaths were connected with the King’s Peace.” However, Isocrates’s words about the “readiness of the Thebans to become slaves of Sparta once again” did not necessarily mean that the Thebans wished to establish an alliance with Sparta. Isocrates does not say anything about such an alliance. Nor do these words have the same meaning as Isocrates’s phrase about the desire of the Thebans to “remain true to the oaths that they had sworn.” The latter phrase meant that the Thebans continued to support the “autonomy clause” of the King’s Peace, which theoretically guaranteed them protection from outside interference in their affairs. They, therefore, refused to throw themselves behind the power of Athens and, proceeding to rebuild their own military alliance, hurried to declare their adherence to the principles of the King’s Peace (i.e., in the same way as the Athenians were doing at that time) by sending an embassy to the Spartans, who were acknowledged as the “champions” (prostatai) of the King’s Peace among the Greeks. Patriotically minded Athenians, such as Isocrates, could well interpret this position of Thebes as “treachery” and

21. Staatsverträge 2, no. 243, with Buckler, “Boiotarchia,” 52, and J. Buckler, Eranos 78 (1980): 179–185; Buck, Boiotia, 63. Doubts, however, remain: Kallet-Marx, “Foundation,” 145 n. 79; Munn, “Thebes,” 75. 22. See p. 42, nn. 192 and 194. 23. Isocr. 8.16 (see pp. 408–409, nn. 14 and 20). 24. Early 373 as the date of the destruction of Plataea: Busolt, Bund, 785; cf. Beck, “Thebes,” 337: “373/2.” 25. Isocr. 14.27: after the Corinthian war, the Thebans abandoned the Athenians and entered into the alliance with Sparta, and 29: after the Athenians helped the Thebans to retake their city, the Thebans sent ambassadors to Sparta, “showing themselves ready to be slaves and to alter in no respects their agreements with Sparta.” 26. The King’s Peace: Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 275; Rhodes, History, 284. Cf. as the Peace of 375: Hampl, Staatsverträge, 13. Rice, “Xenophon,” 104, interpreted this Theban step as a demonstration that Thebes “was willing to live in peace with Sparta.” 27. Buckler, “Boiotarchia,” 53. 28. E.g., Xen. Hellen. 5.1.36.

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“slavery,” but this was hardly the case from the Thebans’ point of view. After the failed attack of Sphodrias on the Piraeus in 378, the Athenians, while accusing Sparta of breaching the King’s Peace, propagated the slogans of “freedom” and “autonomy” with the help of their embassies throughout Greece, thus now presenting themselves as the prostatai of the King’s Peace. The Athenians, therefore, offered their support to the principles of the King’s Peace. The Thebans, who most likely considered the Spartans’ seizure of the Cadmea a violation of the King’s Peace, obviously tried to keep to this Peace as well. As a result, after the liberation of the Cadmea, the oaths sworn by the Thebans to the King’s Peace were still held as valid. In addition, the oaths made by Thebes in 375 were still held as valid in the 360s, because the Peace of 375 was the last Peace to which the Thebans swore oaths: Thebes did not join the Sparta Peace or the Athens Peace in 371, and her attempt to establish her own Peace failed in 367. In a similar fashion, the Spartans, who last swore to the Sparta Peace in 371 and did not join any other treaty of Peace after that, could still have accused the Mantineans of breaking the oaths of the Sparta Peace in 366. But the Spartans swore to the Sparta Peace on behalf of their allies. This implies that Spartan allies, including Mantinea and Tegea, made no oaths of their own and, therefore, could not break oaths to this Peace. At the same time, both Mantinea and Tegea were members of the Peloponnesian League and remained such, or could have been considered such by Sparta, until some time after the battle of Leuctra in 171. We know that both cities were among the Spartan allies that provided military support to Sparta following her defeat of Leuctra. Participants in military alliances typically swore an oath that they would not assault other members, which made up part of the “sanctions clause.” In the case of such an assault, the Spartans could retaliate in defense of the “oaths.” As a result, of the two explanations offered by Lewis for the Spartan campaign against Mantinea κατὰ τοὺς ὅρκους following the Mantineans’ attack on Tegea παρὰ τοὺς ὅρκους—that is, the oaths of the Sparta Peace or the oaths of the Peloponnesian League—the latter looks preferable. In sum, the Spartan attack on Mantinea κατὰ τοὺς ὅρκους in 366 offers no valid grounds for thinking that Sparta participated in the Athens Peace of 371. The last major argument in favor of Sparta’s participation in the Athens Peace has been the honorific decree of Athens for Dionysios I and his sons (368), which says that they “helped” the “King’s Peace that had been concluded by the Athenians, the Lacedaemonians, and other Greeks.” More than one identification has been offered for the “Peace” mentioned in this decree, namely (in chronological order), the King’s Peace itself, or the Sparta Peace of 371, or the Athens Peace of 371. As for the first, the honorific decree of Athens for Dionysios I and his sons did indeed make mention of the King’s Peace, in the same terms as we see in the alliance between Athens and Chios (384). But a similar phrase is also encountered in the text of Dionysios from Halicarnassus when referring to the Sparta Peace. This shows that one can

29. E.g., Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19; Diod. 15.50.4. 30. Xen. Hellen. 6.4.18. It is important to note that in the civil discord among the Arcadians that soon followed (e.g., Xen. Hellen. 6.5.10-11), the Spartans supported Mantinea against Tegea in 370–369 (Diod. 15.59.1–4) and in 363–362 (Xen. Hellen. 7.5.1-5; Diod. 15.82.2-5). 31. The most appropriate example is, certainly, the Second Athenian Confederacy: R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 46).7-20. 32. As also Lewis, “Athens Peace,” 30. 33. R&O 33 (= IG II 103 = GHI 133 = Syll. 159 = Brun, Impérialisme, no. 53.A).21-26. 34. E.g., Rhodes and Osborne, in R&O, p. 164. 35. R&O 20 (= IG II 34 = GHI 118 = Syll. 142).11-12. D.H. Lys. 12.

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hardly build a valid argument on the basis of only one piece of evidence. The identification of the “Peace” mentioned in the honorific decree of Athens for Dionysios I and his sons as being the Sparta Peace also looks plausible (see below). There is no clear-cut evidence that substantiates the identification of this “Peace” with the Athens Peace, whereas some evidence speaks against this identification. On the one hand, our written sources leave little doubt that during the time of Epaminondas’s second invasion of the Peloponnese in the autumn of 369, Dionysios (who did not participate in either the Sparta Peace or the Athens Peace) sent military aid to Sparta, his traditional ally. In 369, both Dionysios and Athens were allies of Sparta. For this reason, among others, it seems likely that after the Athenians concluded a military alliance with Sparta in early 369, they made a similar alliance with Dionysios in the archonship of Nausigen (368–367). On the other hand, Sparta did not participate in, nor did the King sanction, the Athens Peace. This Peace merely claimed to be based on the principles “sent down by the King,” acknowledging the autonomy of Greek cities, as it had been “put down by the King.” As a result, the “Peace” that was “helped” by Dionysios I in 369—who aided the Spartans in the spirit of Peace—could not have been the Athens Peace. It could only have been the King’s Peace, the Peace of 375, or the Sparta Peace. Several further observations also speak against Sparta’s participation in the Athens Peace. First, the Spartans would not recognize the presence of the Second Confederacy in the treaty, just as they had not recognized the claim of the Thebans to swear on behalf of the Boeotian cities to the Peace of 375 or to the Sparta Peace of 371. It made no sense for the Spartans to join the Athens Peace, which acknowledged the autonomy of Messenia, and even less to send Agesilaos to dissuade the Mantineans from building city walls at the same time. It was their refusal to acknowledge the independence of Messenia that would make the Spartans decline to join the Peace in 367 and stand out of the Peace of 362–361. Second, the Athens Peace reserved a special place for the members of the Second Confederacy, which was also an antiSpartan undertaking. Third, if Sparta had joined the Athens Peace, which allegedly had a

36. E.g., I. Kirchner, IG II 103 ad loc., with bibliography in Hampl, Staatsverträge, 21 n. 1. 37. As Hampl, Staatsverträge, 21–23; Tod ad GHI 133.23-26; Seager, “Balance,” 55; K. F. Stroheker, Dionysios I. (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1958), 142; Sordi, Scritti, 11–12, 17–18, 22–24; Jehne, Eirene, 75; M. Jehne, “Die Anerkennung der athenischen Besitzansprüche auf Amphipolis und die Chersones,” Historia 41 (1992): 279 n. 39. 38. Beloch, Geschichte, 3(2):247. 39. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.20; Diod. 15.70.1. Cf. Sparta’s help to Dionysios (Diod. 14.10.2, 14.62.1) and Dionysios’s aid to the Spartans in the Corinthian war (Xen. Hellen. 5.1.26-28) and in 368 (Xen. Hellen. 7.1.28). Dionysios and Sparta: Stroheker, Dionysios I., 136–137, 140–141, 235 n. 60; Alfieri Tonini, “Atene e Mitileno,” 55 n. 41; M. Sordi, La “Dynasteia” in Occidente (Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1992), 112–113. 40. R&O 34 (= IG II 105 = Syll. 163).8-12. 41. See Xen. Hellen. 6.5.2 and 6.5.3, respectively. As already Dienelt, “Bund,” 269–270. 42. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.3-5. 43. The negotiations in 367 failed because the Thebans did not agree to Spartan control of Messenia: Diod. 15.90.2, Xen. Hellen. 7.1.27. The Peace of 362–361: Diod. 15.89.1; Plut. Ages. 35.3. 44. E.g., Marshall, Confederacy, 1–22; Cawkwell, “Foundation,” 47–60; Cawkwell, “Euboea,” 44; Ryder, Eirene, 57; Ryder, “Relations,” 108; Rice, “Xenophon,” 124–125; Hornblower, Mausolus, 186–187; Quass, “Königsfriede,” 54; Hamilton, “Sparta,” 55; Welwei, Athen, 280; Dreher, Athen, 152–156; Rhodes, History, 273. Significantly, both the foundation of the Second Confederacy and the Athens Peace followed major Spartan setbacks caused by Thebes, i.e., Sparta’s failed attempt to restore its own power over Thebes (Diod. 15.28.1-4) and the defeat at Leuctra, respectively.

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“sanctions clause,” the lengthy deliberations that took place at Athens in 369 would have been unnecessary. Finally, the treaty of 369 was concluded between Sparta and her allies on one side, and Athens and her allies on the other. This arrangement, therefore, would have been impossible within the framework of either the Sparta Peace, which was still adhered to by Sparta, or the Athens Peace, which was being upheld by Athens. Each of these Peace treaties authorized only one military alliance, namely, of whichever power had sanctioned that Peace. The coexistence of two treaties of Peace was yet another display of the fact that the period of the King’s Peace was over by the 360s. Therefore, the treaty of 369 established a separate military alliance. The situation in 369 thus returned to what it was before the King’s Peace, during the time of the Peace of Nicias (421), which was sworn by Athens and her allies on the one hand, and Sparta and her allies on the other. This fact demonstrates once again that by the 360s the King’s Peace was already in tatters.

45. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.33-48. 46. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.1-14. 47. Thuc. 5.18.1–9 (see also Appendix 4 on the eventual return to the use of the “territorial clause” in Greek diplomatic documents by the 350s). Cf. a continuation of this practice at a later date: Staatsverträge 3, no. 476.70-81 (a treaty of friendship and alliance between Athens and Sparta and their repective allies, c.267–265?).

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Appendix 3

the “peace of ” (the peace of pelopidas) and diodoros

i As George Cawkwell noted a long time ago, the Peace of 367 is a dark affair. It is indeed, for at least two clear reasons. One of them is that our evidence about this peace is very limited. The other is that this evidence is contradictory. The latter concerns, among other things, the question of the dating of the Peace, which depends largely on (1) personal interpretations of what marked its beginning, that is, either the embassy of Pelopidas to Persia in 367—which established the conditions for the foundation of the new peace—or the Peace congress at Thebes in 366, or the Theban treaties with Corinth and several other cities in late 366 and 365, which, as we shall see, have been interpreted by some as constituting the new Peace; and (2) the date of Isocrates’s Archidamos. Whereas Cawkwell refers to this speech as one of the sources about the “peace of 366/365,” common opinion has dated Archidamos to 366. As the evidence stands, Xenophon narrates unsuccessful attempts by Thebes to establish (with the backing of the King) her own Peace in 367, that is, similar to those of Sparta in 386, 375, and 371, and that of Athens in 371. According to Xenophon, the Theban attempt failed because Greek cities refused to join the Peace that Pelopidas was offering to them. But soon

1. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 273, referring to it as the “peace of 366/365.” 2. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.39–40 and 7.4.6–11; Isocr. 6 (Archidamos); Diod. 15.76.3; Plut. Pelop. 30.7, 31.1. 3. Xen. 7.1.33–38; Diod. 15.81.3; Plut. Pelop. 30.1–5. 4. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 269. É. Brémond, in Isocrate: Discours, vol. 2, ed. and trans. G. Mathieu and É. Brémond (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1961), 173; M. Weissenberger, “Isokrates,” in NPauly 5 (1998): 1140; D. Mirhady et al., “Introduction,” in Isocrates. I, trans. D. Mirhady and Y. Lee Too (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2000), 10; V. G. Mandilaras, in Isocrates: Opera omnia (Leipzig: Saur, 2003), 1:5. Cf. V. Azoulay, in RÉG 119 (2006): 506–507; K.-W. Welwei, “Archidamos [2],” in NPauly 1 (1996): 991: as if pronounced at the peace conference in Sparta in 366. 5. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.39–40.

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afterward, in 366–365, Corinth and some other allies of Sparta made individual treaties of peace with Thebes. This, of course, also raises the question of the status of Corinth and these other cities—according to some, by making a treaty with Thebes, they brought the Peloponnesian League to an end and, thus, ceased to be its members. But this League was a military alliance, whereas the most that Thebes managed to achieve was to make peace. Our source is, once again, the text of Xenophon. He says that Thebes also offered Corinth and other cities her alliance (symmachia), but they refused to go any further than the treaties of peace. We, therefore, have two problems at once. The first is the interrelationship between Xenophon’s references to a failed Theban attempt at the new Peace in 367 and to the treaties of peace concluded between Thebes and the above-mentioned individual cities (including Corinth) in 366–365. The second is the interrelationship between Xenophon’s latter reference to individual treaties of peace and the words of Diodoros about the “common peace” that was established in 366–365. The first of these two problems has generally been interpreted as if Corinth and other (former?) allies of Sparta finally decided to accept the earlier offer from Thebes, which thus became (probably in a modified form) the basis of what has been understood by some as the new “common peace.” This interpretation, which implies that the initiative had originally come from the Thebans, also counters the argument that it was the Corinthians who came to Thebes with the proposal of peace. This stance affected the vision of the second problem. Since the traditional understanding has been that the Thebans achieved in 366–365 what they had failed to gain in 367, that is, the establishment of a new Peace, Xenophon’s account that the Thebans concluded separate treaties of peace only with several individual cities (including Corinth) in 366–365, has been presented as wrong or, at least, “incomplete,” as Cawkwell put it. The main argument in support of rejecting Xenophon’s interpretation has been Diodoros’s alleged reference to the treaties of 366–365 as establishing the “common peace,” even though attempts have been made to present the accounts of Diodoros and Xenophon not as contradicting but as complementing each other. However, it is extremely unlikely that Xenophon offered a twisted description of the events, even if we acknowledge his dislike of Thebes. The two problems have to be separated, and each should be approached individually. The Peace (i.e., the King’s Peace, the Peace of 375, or the Sparta Peace of 371) was theoretically incompatible with the existence of military alliances. The “autonomy clause” could be an effective tool, if necessary, to subvert military alliances, which,

6. E.g., P. A. Cartledge, “Peloponnesian League,” in OCD, 1133; Welwei, Athen, 291; Rhodes, History, 235, 251, 428–429. Cf. Seager, “Thrasybulus,” 97: the Peloponnesian League “disintegrated” after Leuctra and Dušanić, League, 300 n. 87: “the cities formally remained the allies of Athens and Sparta.” 7. Xen. Hellen. 7.4.6–11. 8. Diod. 15.76.3. 9. G. De Sanctis, “La pace del 362-1,” RFIC, n.s., 12 (1934): 149–152; Ryder, “Peace,” 204; Ryder, Eirene, 81–83; Jehne, Eirene, 89–90; Munn, “Thebes,” 90; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 318–319; Cawkwell, Wars, 187–188, 295–296. 10. This argument: J. B. Salmon, Wealthy Corinth: A History of the City to 338 b.c. (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1984), 379–381. This interpretation: Buckler, Greece, 338. 11. For bibliography: Ryder, “Peace,” 201–203; Buckler, Hegemony, 251–255; Roy, “Thebes,” 200. 12. G. L. Cawkwell, “The Common Peace of 366/5 b.c.,” CQ, n.s., 11 (1961): 80–82; Jehne, Eirene, 86–90; Jehne, “Formen,” 324–325; Rhodes, History, 234–235 (who spoke about one treaty), 289. 13. E.g., Meyer, Geschichte, 5:437, 441, 450; Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 80–82; Roy, “Thebes,” 200 n. 14. 14. E.g., Ryder, “Peace,” 204; Stylianou, Commentary, 451–452, 485–489.

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as the Greeks knew all too well, were a form of political and military domination. The reality was somewhat different, however. Sparta kept its military alliance under the King’s Peace, the Peace of 375, and the Sparta Peace. The Athenians took this one step further in 371 when they established their own Athens Peace specifically to be a framework for the Second Athenian Confederacy. Now, in 367, the Thebans undoubtedly wanted to do the same, which makes it impossible to accept the idea that in 366–365 the Thebans wanted to transform peace into an alliance. The Thebans already had their own alliance. Their task in 367 was to establish a new Peace that would legitimate this alliance, exactly as the Athenians had done in 371, thus attempting to seal their leading position in Greece. In practical terms, the peace and alliance that were offered by Thebes to Corinth and the other cities implied their participation in a future war against Sparta, which they refused. As a result, Corinth and these other cities established only individual treaties of peace with the Thebans. The Corinthians and representatives of other cities therefore upheld the old principle that a Peace was incompatible with an alliance, which, at least in theory, was absolutely correct. But this also means that the Thebes Peace was not ratified. The confusion between these individual treaties of peace and the (failed) Thebes Peace in 367 has affected not only the vision of what happened in the 360s but also the understanding of the idea of a Peace in general. For example, since Cawkwell interpreted the treaties of 366–365 as a “common peace,” he asserted that “there was no sanction clause of the sort to be found in every Common Peace since that of 386” and that “the Common Peace had sanction clauses of various sorts, providing for actions against those who attacked any subscribing state. The explicit cases are the peaces of 372/1 and 371/0. Such a clause is to be presumed for the King’s Peace . . . the Peace of 366/5 was an exception.” But if the “sanction clause” meant the obligation of the participants to help “wronged parties,” this clause appears to have been missing in the King’s Peace, which the King pledged to protect with the help of those Greeks who wished to join him; the Peace of 375; and the Sparta Peace. And if we speak about the obligation to help “wronged members,” this clause first appears in the Athens Peace, which served as the framework for a military alliance, that is, the Second Confederacy, while the first documented inscriptional reference to a “common peace” is the Peace of 362–361. This again demonstrates that the idea of the “common peace” developed only gradually and that earlier treaties of Peace did not contain clauses that we see later. The first argument that the treaties of 366–365 represented a “common peace” was the reference to Isocrates’s Archidamos, which is thought to have undermined Xenophon’s interpretation of the events of 366. But although this speech offers no indication about the

15. Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 399. 16. Xen. Hellen. 7.4.10. 17. As Bringmann, Studien, 55; Bengtson, Geschichte, 282; Hamilton, Agesilaus, 237–238, 241–242; Buckler, “Philip II, the Greeks,” 105; Buckler, Greece, 332 n. 40. 18. Cawkwell, “Epaminondas,” 273 (with reference to Xen. Hellen. 7.4.10); Cawkwell, “The Peace of Philocrates Again,” 96. It is interesting that this argument was built on Xenophon’s account about separate treaties of peace in 366–365. 19. Cf. his words in Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31: τούτοις ἐγὼ πολεμήσω μετὰ τῶν ταῦτα βουλομένων. 20. Which is also demonstrated by negotiations between the Spartans and Athenians in 369 (see Appendix 2). 21. Staatsverträge 2, no. 292. 22. E.g., Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 83: “the Archidamus shows that Xenophon’s account is in some degree not to be trusted, and offers no ground for arguing that Athens and Persia were not involved”; Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 319.

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involvement of Persia and Athens in these events—as Cawkwell postulated a long time ago— there is similarly nothing in this speech that would refer to the treaties of Thebes with Corinth and the other cities as being reflective or constitutive of a “common peace.” At the end of the speech, “Archidamos” pronounces the following words: “[N]ot every people can adopt the same measures in the same situation, but each must follow the principles which from the very first they have made the foundation of their lives. No one, for example, would reproach Epidaurians or Corinthians or Phliasians if they thought of nothing else than to escape destruction and save their own lives; we men of Lacedaemon, however, cannot seek our deliverance at all costs” (90–91). It is hard to see how this phrase can confirm that the treaties made by these cities and Thebes in 366–365 represented a “common peace,” especially since Sparta herself clearly remained uninvolved in this peace treaty. Further argument for the existence of the “common peace of 366–365” has been based on the evidence acknowledging Athens’ right to Amphipolis and the Chersonese, which comes from the speeches of Aeschines and Demosthenes and can be summed up here as follows: (1) Aeschin. 2.32: “For at the congress of the Lacedaemonian allies and other Greeks, in which Amyntas, the father of Philip, being entitled to a seat, was represented by a delegate whose vote was absolutely under his control, he joined the other Greeks in voting for Athens to recover possession of Amphipolis.” (2) Dem. 19.253: “This man (i.e., Aeschines) gave away and sold Amphipolis, a city which the King and all Greeks recognized as yours, speaking in support of the resolution moved by Philocrates.” (3) Dem. 9.19: “when he (i.e., Philip) sends mercenaries to the Chersonese, your claim to which has been recognized by the King and all the Greeks.” The question of when Athens’ right to Amphipolis was acknowledged has been much debated, and several dates have been offered. The present examination is interested in the date of the confirmation of Athens’ right to Amphipolis only in relation to the problem of whether this date can support the interpretation of the treaties of peace in 366–365 as a “common peace.” Suggested dates for the acknowledgment of Athens’ right to Amphipolis have been as follows: (i) The Peace of 375 and the Sparta Peace of 371. The reference made by Diodoros that the Sparta Peace was authorized by the King has been doubted by those who

23. Cf. Zahrnt, “Xenophon,” 320–321. 24. See also [Dem.] 7.28–29. 25. See also Dem. 19.136–137. 26. Cf. Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 83: “. . . the decree about the Chersonese is very likely to belong to a Common Peace in 366”; Hornblower, Mausolus, 195. 27. See Staatsverträge 2, no. 265: Bengtson included Aeschin. 2.32 (=  1 above) (Amyntas allegedly acknowledged Athens’ right to Amphipolis) among evidence regarding the Peace of 375 and Hampl, Staatsverträge, 18–19, 30, who, however, continued by saying that the Peace of 375 was the first “common peace” (koine eirene). Cf. Buckler, Greece, 330 n. 38, who considered Dem. 9.16 and 19.253 to be falsifications. 28. The usual references have been Aeschin. 2.32 (Amphipolis) and Dem. 9.16 (the Chersonese); see  1 and 3, respectively. See Busolt, Bund, 790, 797; Cloché, La politique, 91; Accame, La lega, 155; Meyer, Geschichte, 5:395; Beloch, Geschichte, 3(1):162; Bengtson, Geschichte, 276; Hamilton, Agesilaus, 240–241; Psoma, Olynthe, 231.

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share the old assumption that Diodoros “telescoped” the information concerning the Sparta Peace (in particular, the fact that the Thebans did not join in that Peace) to the Peace of 375. Siegfried Lauffer also found a contradiction in the acknowledgment of Athens’ right to Amphipolis, as presented in Aeschines 2.32 (see  1 above), and the fact that the Sparta Peace did not have the “sanctions clause.” He concluded, therefore, that Athens’ right to Amphipolis was acknowledged not by the Sparta Peace but by the Peace of 375 (or 374, as in Lauffer). First, however, the Peace of 375 did not have the “sanctions clause” either. In addition, the acknowledgment of one’s right to some territory did not necessarily imply an obligation to help him in recovering that territory. Second, Diodoros, in fact, makes it clear that the Thebans stood out of the Peace treaty “as before,” thus distinguishing the Peace of 375 and the Sparta Peace of 371 as two separate events. Third, Dionysios of Halicarnassus confirmed (probably relying on Philochoros) that the Sparta Peace was authorized by the King. Finally, what would have been the point in the Spartans’ acknowledging Athens’ right to Amphipolis at the time of the Sparta Peace which made giving help to “wronged parties” optional for other participants? (ii) The Athens Peace. The King did not authorize this Peace, nor did the Spartans participate in it, which contradicts the information of Aeschines and Demosthenes. (iii) The spring of 369. In this case, the “acknowledgment” could have been a decree by Sparta and her allies. Athens had finally established an alliance with Sparta in early 369, and one of the incentives for the Athenians, in addition to condoning the growth of Thebes, could have been Sparta’s acknowledgment of Athens’ right to Amphipolis. Alliances are known to have acknowledged the territorial claims of their participants. But what rôle did the Great King, who is mentioned by Demosthenes ( 2 and 3) play in the treaty of alliance between Sparta and Athens? According to Cawkwell, the recognition of the right of Athens to Amphipolis and the Chersonese should have been made shortly before Athens started campaigns to recover them. Therefore, because Athens did not begin her campaign to take Amphipolis until 368, “the decree of the Greeks about Amphipolis” was dated by Cawkwell to the spring of 369.

29. Diod. 15.50.4. This assumption: p. 42, n. 191. 30. Lauffer, “Diodordublette,” 324. Aeschin. 2.32 (=  1 above in the text). 31. Diod. 15.50.4 (ὥσπερ καὶ πρότερον). D. H. Lys. 12 (see p. 395, n. 35). 32. E.g., Hampl, Staatsverträge, 18–19, 30; R. Sealey, Demosthenes and His Time (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 75. 33. E.g., Sealey, Demosthenes, 74–76; Badian, “Ghost,” 94; E. Badian, “Amyntas [3] III.,” in NPauly 1 (1996): 636; Klees, “Expansion,” 134; Rhodes, History, 233. 34. Buckler, Greece, 300, 330 n. 38 (see n. 27 above), 356, 376, doubted the authenticity of the evidence. 35. Accame, La lega, 155–156, 164–166; Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 80–81; G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, in CQ, n.s., 13 (1963): 112 n. 1; Sealey, History, 429–430; Sealey, Demosthenes, 77–83; Hornblower, Mausolus, 195; Jehne, “Anerkennung,” 274. 36. Xen. Hellen. 7.1.1, 14. For this alliance, see Appendix 2. 37. Esp. Sealey, History, 430. 38. Cf. Athens’ alliance with rulers from northern Greece: IG II 127 (= GHI 157 = Syll. 196). 44–45 (356–355). 39. Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 81. See also Jehne, “Anerkennung,” 276 nn. 24–25.

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Another argument in favor of this consideration has been that, according to Aeschines (2.32; see  1 above), those who acknowledged Athens’ right to Amphipolis included Amyntas, an ally of Athens, who died in 370–369. Therefore, the latter date has been accepted as the terminus ante quem for this acknowledgment. In this case, however, this acknowledgment may not be used as evidence in support of the alleged “common peace of 366–365.” Additionally, Demosthenes’s reference (=  2 above) to the acknowledgment of Athens’ right to Amphipolis by the Great King and “all Greeks” would hardly have referred to either the failed Peace of Pelopidas (367) in which the Greeks, including the Athenians themselves, refused to participate, or to the treaties of peace between Thebes and several individual cities (including Corinth) in 366–365. (iv) The conference at Susa in the autumn of 367 or the “second Athenian embassy” to the Great King, which has been dated to 366. But our sources speak of the acknowledgment of Athens’ right to Amphipolis by the Great King, “all Greeks,” and the “Spartan alliance,” which just does not fit in any of these contexts. Also, the failed Peace of Pelopidas, which he was promoting in 367, that is, after the Athenians started their campaign for Amphipolis, denied Athens the right to have a navy, which would also deny her the right to Amphipolis and the Chersonese. If, as Cawkwell thought, the “peace of 366–365” was a resurrected version of the Peace of Pelopidas, then the “peace of 366–365” was meant to have also rejected Athenian claims for Amphipolis and the Chersonese. The fact that Pelopidas had Amphipolis on his mind is shown by the inclusion of this city, albeit for only a short time, on the list of friends and allies of the King. Finally, Amyntas had been dead for at least two years by 367. In sum, dating the acknowledgment of Athens’ right to Amphipolis and for the Chersonese poses two major problems. The first is the authorship of this acknowledgment, which creates an alleged contradiction between the accounts of Aeschines and Demosthenes. The second problem is about the datings—whether Athens’ right to the Chersonese and Amphipolis was acknowledged at the same time and whether Athens’ wars for the Chersonese and Amphipolis started simultaneously with the acknowledgment of her right to these territories. If they did

40. Aeschin. 2.32 (=  1 above in the text). Amyntas’s alliance with Athens: Staatsverträge 2, no. 264; this date of his death: Diod. 15.60.3. 41. E.g., Hornblower, Greek World, 249–250. Pace Buckler, Hegemony, 253: “Since Amyntas died in 370/369, Accame’s suggestion (i.e., that the right of Athens for Amphipolis was acknowledged when Athens allied with Sparta in 369, S.D.) must be ruled out.” However, the alliance was formed in the spring or early summer of 369 (see Beloch, Geschichte, 3[1]:179), and there is no direct contradiction in the surviving sources against the evidence of Aeschines 2.32 (=  1 above in the text) about this alliance. 42. As Judeich, Studien, 199; Ryder, Eierene, 81; Buckler, Greece, 328. Cf. Schwenk, “Athens,” 26. 43. J. Heskel, The North Aegean Wars, 371–360 b.c. (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1997), 101–114. Cf. Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 83 (see n. 22 above), and Hornblower, Greek World, 252. 44. Dem. 19.137. See Xen. Hellen. 7.1.36–37; Isocr. 6.27; Diod. 15.81.3 and 15.90.2; Plut. Pelop. 30.7 and 31.1 with Bengston’s comments ad Staatsverträge 2, no. 282, and Buckler, Greece, 328–329, 357. 45. E.g., Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 84, 85–86. 46. As Cawkwell, Wars, 187 (“the Athenians were to cease their efforts to recover Amphipolis”). 47. Dem. 19.137.

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not, then this would undermine the idea that this acknowledgment was grounded in the “common peace” of 366–365 and, by extension, the idea of this “common peace” as such. As for the first of these problems, the reference to the Spartans and their allies might seem to set the account of Aeschines (=  1 above) against that of Demosthenes (=  2 above), since the former thus referred to a military alliance, whereas the latter spoke about the acknowledgment by the King and “all Greeks,” which surely points to a Peace conference. However, there really was no contradiction between the two texts, since Aeschines’s συμμαχίας Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ τῶν ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων συνελθούσης referred to the Sparta Peace, which was sanctioned by the King and sworn by Sparta and her allies (all together), on the one hand, and by representatives of other Greeks (individually), on the other. Although, chronologically, the Athens Peace would be the closest to the Athenian campaign to recover Amphipolis, it was neither authorized by the King nor joined by Sparta. The excerpts of Aeschines and Demosthenes therefore complement each other: both speak of the Sparta Peace. As for the second problem, Demosthenes refers to the acknowledgment of the right of Athens for the Chersonese by the King and “all Greeks” (Dem. 9.16; see  3 above). According to Cawkwell, since Athens started a campaign to take the Chersonese in 365, the only “Common Peace congress” that took place “in the relevant period” was that referred to by Diodoros: “Diodoros provides what is required” to explain the phrase of Demosthenes. As a result, the only support for the existence of the Peace of 366–365, and for Diodoros’s version of the “common peace” of 366–365, is what Cawkwell himself termed “an economical hypothesis.” This view has been rightly criticized, even though not all of this criticism should be accepted. For example, Jehne argued on the basis of the presence of the “territorial clause” in treaties of Peace before 366–365 as well, which would make the use of the “peace of 366–365” unnecessary for Athens in order to claim her rights to Amphipolis and the Chersonese. However, in 366–365 this clause was inserted in the separate treaties sworn to by Thebes and several other individual cities (including Corinth), and there is no direct evidence for the presence of this clause in any Peace prior to the amendment suggested in 342 to the peace of Philocrates (see Appendix 4). A reference to the “territorial clause,” therefore, cannot by itself refute Cawkwell’s argument. It would be easier to suggest that the acknowledgment of the right of Athens for the Chersonese came at the same time as that for Amphipolis, that is, at the Sparta Peace, so that the reference to the King becomes understandable. Since it took Athens several years after the Sparta Peace to claim her right to Amphipolis, one should not be surprised that it took her several more years in the case of the Chersonese. Another objection—that is, that the Sparta

48. E.g., Heskel, Wars, 40, 53–54: Athens’ war for Amphipolis started in the autumn of 369, whereas that for the Chersonese broke out “some time after late summer 365,” and Cawkwell, Thucydides, 95: Athens began her struggle to recover Amphipolis in 368, and the Chersonese in 365. 49. As Sealey, Demosthenes, 75. 50. As Beloch, Geschichte, 3(1):179. See also Buckler, Hegemony, 253: a “Common Peace.” 51. Esp. Xen. Hellen. 6.3.19. 52. Xen. Hellen. 6.5.1. Momigliano, Terzo Contributo, 398: the Athens Peace was the first Peace concluded without the initiative, and participation, of the King. 53. Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 82, followed by Hornblower, Greek World, 252. Cf. Worthington, Philip II, 59: the Athenian right to the Chersonese was recognized in 365 by “a decree of the Greek states,” with no reference to “common peace.” 54. E.g., Ryder, Eirene, 83, 138–139; Jehne, “Anerkennung,” 280.

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Peace made giving help to “wronged parties” optional for other participants—does not take into consideration that the acknowledgment of one’s right to some territory did not have to be accompanied by an obligation to help in recovering this territory. In a similar fashion, oaths sworn to confirm a treaty did not necessarily mean that the one who swore to it had to defend this treaty by force of arms. The best such example is, of course, the King’s Peace: in spite of their oaths to this Peace, Greek cities had a choice of whether or not they wished to join the King (and the Spartans) in protecting this Peace by force. Finally, all this being said, it is still possible that the acknowledgment of Athens’ rights to Amphipolis could have come at a different time than the acknowledgment of her right to the Chersonese. The assault of the Athenians on the Chersonese, led by Timotheos, started only after Timotheos had occupied Samos in 366–365. He took Samos after arriving with the ostensible aim of helping Ariobarzanes, satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia, and discovering that Ariobarzanes was in revolt. Thus the Athenian assault on the Chersonese was hardly an event that had been planned long in advance. In such a case, the recognition of Athens’ right to the Chersonese did not have to be chronologically close to Timotheos’s seizure of the Chersonese. Finally, Cawkwell’s hypothesis certainly does not solve the problem of the alleged contradiction between the evidence provided by Xenophon and Diodoros. A more plausible explanation seems to be that Xenophon was referring to two different things: the failed attempt by Thebes to establish a new Peace in 367, and individual treaties of peace that were established between Thebes and several individual cities in 366–365. The confusion was created by Diodoros, who erred not on the chronology of the “peace” (it was indeed five years after the battle of Leuctra) but on its character. As on several other occasions, Diodoros again presented a general state of tranquillity, which came about because of the individual treaties of peace between Thebes and several cities, including Corinth, as a “common peace.”

55. E.g., Hampl, Staatsverträge, 18–19, 30; Sealey, Demosthenes, 75. 56. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31 (see n. 19 above). 57. E.g., Heskel, Wars, 53–54 (see n. 48 above) and 111–112: Athens’ right to the Chersonese was recognized at the “Common Peace congress” in 362–361. However, the Great King did not authorize the Peace of 362–361; see Diod. 15.89.1–2 and R&O 42 (GHI 145 = Syll. 182 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 292). Additionally, cf. Heskel, Wars, 113: “Ariobarzanes’ recognition of the Athenian claim to Chersonese on behalf of the King belongs in late 368.” 58. Isocr. 15.111–113; cf. Diod. 18.18.9; Cawkwell, “Common Peace,” 81; Radicke, Rede, 169–182, who (173–174) sided with Xenophon and questioned the reliability of Diodoros’s account about the “common peace” of 366–365. 59. Dem. 15.9; Hornblower, Mausolus, 198. 60. Diod. 15.76.3. 61. As Buckler, Hegemony, 255; cf. Ryder, “Peace,” 202–203. See also Hampl, Staatsverträge, 62–64; Cartledge, Agesilaos, 388 (undecided) and the Chronological Table, who saw no “common peace” in the treaties of 366–365, and Dreher, Athen, 161 (“ein Separatfriede”). For the meaning of Diodoros’s “common peace” as a general state of tranquillity: Diod. 15.70.2, 15.76.3, 15.77.1 (see pp. 58–59, nn. 291–293).

Appendix 4

the content of the king’s peace and the “territorial clause”

i The “territorial clause,” that is, the acknowledgement of one’s right to one’s own territorial possessions, existed before the King’s Peace, but solely with respect either to the territories recognized as the possession of the Great King, as, for example, in the Spartan-Persian treaty of 411, or to individual cities whose autonomy and territorial possessions were to be protected. Andocides’s On the Peace with the Spartans, which has generally been dated to the late 390s, mentions the “territorial clause” but only, it seems, concerning the Spartans. Whether the speech was delivered in 392–391, as seems likely, or whether it refers to the King’s Peace, as has also been suggested, matters little for the present discussion because this speech uses the

1. Thuc. 8.18.1, 8.37.1, 8.58.1–2 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 202, with Hornblower, Commentary, 3:801–802. 2. Ryder, Eirene, 122–123 and Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 29–30, both with reference to Thuc. 2.71.2 and 5.79.1. However, Thuc. 2.71.2 described the territory of Plataea as an individual city in 479, and Thuc. 5.79.1 was about the fifty-year alliance between the Spartans and the Argives, and their respective allies, in 418 (see Hornblower, Commentary, 3:201–202); see also Thuc. 5.79.2. 3. W. Judeich, in Philologus 81 (1926): 141–154 (early 392); Martin, “Une interprétation,” 135–136 (390); U. Albini, in Andocide. De Pace. Introduzione e commento (Florence: Felice le Mounier, 1964), 12 (“392/1”); Aucello, “La genesi,” 358–362; Badian, “King’s Peace,” 29 (“about 392/1”); Rhodes, History, 228 (“392/1”). 4. Andoc. 3.19: τοιαῦτα δ’ ἔργα ἐπιδειξάμενοι [τοˆι ς Ἕλλησι] τὴν εἰρήνην εἰσὶν ἕτοιμοι ποιεˆι σθαι τὴν ἑαυτῶν ἔχοντες, οἰ ἐνίκων μαχόμενοι, καὶ τὰς πόλεις αὐτονόμους. Only two manuscripts include τοˆι ς Ἕ λλησι, which makes it possible to suggest that this was a later addition. Cf. Oratores Attici ex recensione Immanuelis Bekker, vol. 1 (Berlin: Reimer, 1823), 139. 5. E. M. Harris, in Polis and Politics: Studies in Ancient Greek History, ed. P. Flensted-Jensen et al. (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2000), 479–505, arguing largely on the basis of “the cumulative weight of the evidence,” as, for example, Andocides’s reference to the Corinthian war as being under way for “four years,” which Badian, “King’s Peace,” 29, termed as “clearly a round figure.” Further criticism of this view: Albini, in Andocide. De Pace. Introduzione e commento, 13.

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“territorial clause” in a strictly limited sense, and the King’s Peace still did not have this clause, as will be examined below. The King’s Peace left the possession of Lemnos, Imbros, and Skyros to the Athenians, but these islands were set aside as an exception. The “territorial clause” has been suggested by Jehne as having been used in the Peace of 375, but there is no evidence that would vindicate this view: one of his two references to Isocrates concerns the King’s Peace, which mentions the “territorial clause” as reflecting the position not of the Greeks but of the King (whose right to Greek cities in Asia Minor was directly acknowledged in this Peace), whereas the other appears to be irrelevant to this problem. The treaties of 366–365 between Thebes and several (former?) allies of Sparta, such as Corinth, that contained a similar clause, were individual treaties. As such, they constituted neither the failed Peace of 367 (or the Peace of Pelopidas) nor the alleged “common peace” of 366–365. Thus the general application of the “territorial clause” surfaced only in the 350s: in c.355, Isocrates proposed to insert it in the “common peace” of all Greeks, and in 353 Sparta invited all Greek states to use this clause in their interests, trying to restore Messenia back under the Spartan control in this way. Then, finally, the same clause was suggested as another amendment to the peace of Philocrates in (most probably) 342. But the surviving evidence for the original peace of Philocrates has no such clause; the only exception is the late scholia to the speech on the island of Halonnesus from the Demosthenic corpus. It appears, therefore, that neither earlier diplomatic arrangements nor later evidence supports the opinion that the King’s Peace already contained the “territorial clause” with such a general meaning. There are only two instances that have allowed some to suggest that the King’s Peace included the “territorial clause”: the decree of Aristotle (377) and the text of Isocrates’s On the Peace, probably written in the mid-350s. Some have also adduced a passage from Justin as another proof that the King’s Peace included the “territorial clause.” However, Justin merely says that the King established freedom for Greek cities in Greece and restored “their own” to them, which is too broad to justify specific conclusions. The decree of Aristotle, or the “charter” of the Second Athenian Confederacy, which was clearly aimed against Sparta, most likely provided its own interpretation of “autonomy” in the King’s Peace. According to the decree of Aristotle, Athens invited all Greeks to become her allies so that “the Spartans may leave the Greeks free and autonomous and in peace, possessing their own land in security.” This would be understandable in light of the Spartans’ aggressive policy in Greece in the

6. Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31. 7. E.g., Jehne, Eirene, 60, 91. Isocr. 8.16, 14.23–25. 8. Xen. Hellen. 7.4.10. 9. See Appendix 3. Pace Heuss, “Antigonos,” 166 n. 1; Ryder, “Peace,” 203–204; Ryder, Eirene, 137; Jehne, Eirene, 89, 91, 94–95; Jehne, “Anerkennung,” 280. 10. Isocr. 8.16; Dem. 16.16–17; [Dem.] 7.26. Two suggested amendments to the peace of Philocrates: chapter 2. 11. Schol. Hegesipp. ad [Dem.] 7.18 and 24 (see Staatsverträge 2, no. 329, p. 314). 12. So, e.g., Perlman, “Tradition,” 158–159; Ryder, Eirene, 122–123; Buckler, Greece, 526. 13. E.g., Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 30; Seager, “Confederacy,” 169; D. Asheri in I Greci: Storia, cultura, arte, società, ed. S. Settis, vol. 2, pt. 2 (Turin: Einaudi, 1997), 183. 14. Isoc. 8.16; for the date: e.g., P. Orsini, in Pallas 12 (1964): 9–18 (356); P. Roth, Der Panathenaikos des Isokrates: Übersetzung und Kommentar (Munich and Leipzig: Saur, 2003), 276–277 (355). 15. Martin, “Le traitement,” 26. Iust. 6.6.1: civitatibus libertatem suaque omnia restituit.

Appendix 4

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late 380s. In a similar fashion, the Athenians would reinterpret the “autonomy clause” of the King’s Peace: both the treaty of Athens with Chios and the decree of Aristotle speak of “autonomy” and “freedom” as having been offered by the King’s Peace, even though the King’s Peace is not documented to have employed the slogan of freedom. In order to establish exactly what Isocrates meant in On the Peace, it is necessary to first look at his Panegyricos, which was written several years after the conclusion of the King’s Peace, probably around 380. There, Isocrates complains that the Greek envoys to the negotiations held prior to the King’s Peace should have clearly stated their views, whether it was that each party should have retained its territory, or extended its sovereignty over all that it had acquired by conquests, or kept its control over what it had when peace was declared. However, instead, Isocrates says, “[T]hey assigned no honor whatsoever to our city or Lacedaemon, while they set up the barbarian as lord of all Asia.” In other words, Isocrates is concerned with the fact that whereas the King’s Peace used the “territorial clause” to acknowledge the rule of the King over Asia (and, therefore, over the people who lived in Asia), the territorial integrity of Athens and other Greek cities was not clearly defined. As a result, the “autonomy clause,” being too vague, failed to protect Greek cities from Spartan aggression, as Isocrates says earlier in the same speech. Xenophon and Diodoros also refer to the King’s Peace as only offering the “autonomy clause” to the Greeks, whereas the territorial possessions of the Great King were acknowledged directly. Isocrates’s On the Peace urged that a new peace be made on the same principles as the King’s Peace, which, according to Isocrates, included the “territorial clause” and the “garrison clause.” A highly rhetorical work, On the Peace reflected a popular, later vision of the King’s Peace, which allegedly included every clause that came to be associated with the idea of Peace in the 370s and later. Neither Xenophon nor Diodoros said anything about the “territorial clause” in the King’s Peace. However, Isocrates would hardly have forgotten what he had said in the Panegyricos. His On the Peace might have referred to the “territorial clause” that guaranteed the right of the Great King to the territory of Asia Minor. This right had always been defined with the help of the “territorial clause.” The Spartans, of course, could not use this clause to protect their rights to mainland Greece; hence the King’s Peace had both the “territorial clause,” which protected the interests of the Great King, and the “autonomy clause,” which safeguarded the interests of major Greek powers (in theory) and of Sparta (in reality). Since the “autonomy clause” of the King’s Peace did not work, Isocrates proposed establishing the “territorial clause” for Greek cities as well, so that their interests would be protected in the same way as those of the King. This is what the Athenians and their allies had in mind when

16. R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257).7–20. This explanation of the “territorial clause” in the decree of Aristotle: Sinclair, “King’s Peace,” 30, 53; Jehne, Eirene, 76, 91. 17. R&O 20 (= IG II 34 = GHI 118 = Syll. 142 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 248).17–23 (384–383); R&O 22 (= IG II 43 = GHI 123 = Syll. 147 = Staatsverträge 2, no. 257).7–20 (377). See pp. 32, n. 119, and 38, nn. 163–164. 18. Isocr. 4.176–177. 19. E.g., Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31 and 35; Diod. 14.110.3. 20. Isocr. 8.16. 21. Isocr. 4.178. E.g., Xen. Hellen. 5.1.31 and 35, and Diod. 14.110.3. 22. Cf., e.g., in earlier negotiations between the Spartans and the King (see n. 1 above). 23. A similar idea is also seen at a later date in his Panathenaicos, which is usually dated to 342; Isocr. 12.106.

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drawing the decree of Aristotle: they extended the effect of the “territorial clause,” which secured the possessions of the King in Asia Minor, to mainland Greece. Since Isocrates had always been critical of the King’s Peace, he proposed more than a simple “renovation” of the King’s Peace; he proposed a modification. What he said was obvious to the Greeks: the “autonomy clause” had failed to enforce political stability in Greece; hence the use of the “garrison clause” and the “territorial clause.” The latter shows the demise of the King’s Peace and the restoration of earlier diplomatic principles.

24. As Jehne, Eirene, 116. On later treaties of Peace as “renewals” of the King’s Peace: Wickersham, Hegemony, 97–98; Cawkwell, Wars, 185. 25. A possibility still exists, however, that Isocrates (and Justin) referred to the Peace of 375 (which was a modified version of the King’s Peace), since the Peace of 375 was the first to have the “garrison clause.” Summaries of opinions: W. E. Thompson, in CQ, n.s., 33 (1983): 75; Bosworth, “Autonomia,” 137. 26. Cf., e.g., Thuc. 1.140.2: ἔχειν δὲ ἐκατέρους ἃ ἔχομεν in the Thirty Years peace; 5.31.5: the peace of Nicias in 421 (see p. 22, n. 59); 5.77.7 and 5.79.1: τὰν αὐτῶν ἔχοντες in the treaty between Sparta and Argos in 418 (see also p. 24, n. 73); 8.58.2 (= Staatsverträge 2, no. 202): in the treaty between Sparta and Persia of 411 (see p. 25, n. 76, and n. 1 above), with Hornblower, Commentary, 3:928–929, on the treaties using either poleis or chora. For the breakdown of the King’s Peace by the 360s, see also Appendix 2, which deals with the resurrection of military alliances.

Appendix 5

philip’s leadership of the thessalians

i The Thessalians were always, of course, born traitors. Thessaly had a very important key position in between Macedonia and Greece; the one who ruled Thessaly, was simultaneously also to interfere in Greek affairs. Two datings have been offered for when Philip became the official leader of the Thessalians. Some put this event in the late 340s, usually in the time from 344 to 342, even though the period between the Olynthian war and Philip’s use of Thessalian troops in Thrace, that is, from 349–348 to 341, has also been suggested. However, after Marta Sordi opted for 352, the moment when Philip became the official leader of the Thessalians has been put either shortly before Philip’s victory over Onomarchos in the battle of the Crocus Field (summer 352) or in

1. Dem. 1.22. H. Bengtson, Die Inschriften von Labraunda und die Politik des Antigonos Doson (Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1971), 29. 2. 344–343: Beloch, Geschichte, 3(1):529; Hampl, “Philippos,” 414. 344: Roebuck, “Settlements,” 75. 344 or 342: Bengtson, Geschichte, 320. 344 or later: Momigliano, Filippo, 140. 342: Walbank, Commentary, 2:165. 3. Westlake, Thessaly, 200, with reference to Dem. 8.14. 4. Sordi, Lega, 249–260; cf. 334–339, and Sordi, Scritti, 257, 562. 5. E.g., G. T. Griffith, “Philip of Macedon’s Early Interventions in Thessaly (358–352 b.c.),” CQ, n.s., 20 (1970): 73–80; Griffith, in HM, 2:285–295 (in or after 352); Cawkwell, Philip, 62, and Ellis, Philip II, 16, 83 (353 or 352); Buckler, Sacred War, 80; Buckler, Greece, 419 (354–353); Helly, L’État thessalien, 60 (353); Gehrke, Stasis, 195, and Hornblower, Greek World, 272–273 (before or in 352).

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the aftermath of this battle. These dates are obviously not mutually exclusive: a recent authoritative analysis, while noting that “the date of the election [of Philip to the supreme position in Thessaly] is unknown,” put this “election” after Philip’s victory over Onomarchos, thus leaving open the possibility of a date in the 340s. This confusion largely derives from the different chronological systems employed in such studies, including attempts to use the “high chronology” for dating the battle on the Crocus Field to 353. In a similarly ambiguous fashion, the status of Philip has been identified as either that of the tagos, which is generally thought to have been the traditional name of the leader of the Thessalians, or the archon. Some have used the words tagos and archon indiscriminately. Although the interrelationship between the two words has been debated, everybody seems to agree that Philip’s new position ensured his control over the financial and military resources of the Thessalians. The same evidence has engendered more than one view. Therefore, the different opinions offered are hardly anything more than individual interpretations of this evidence. The only person, to my knowledge, who spoke unambiguously against the idea of Philip’s official leadership over the Thessalians has been Edward M. Harris. As I have developed the same opinion independently, my argument differs from that of Harris on a few, albeit minor, points. For these reasons, and because the corresponding evidence is relatively limited, it would be appropriate to sum up this evidence (without claiming chronological consistency, which is unattainable) as follows: (01) Iust. 8.2.1-2: “Against Onomarchos the Thebans and the Thessalians chose as general (ducem elegunt) not one of their own citizens—they were afraid that the

6. M. M. Markle III, “The Peace of Philocrates: A Study in Athenian Foreign Relations: 348–346 b.c.” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1967), 7; Bengtson, Geschichte, 314; H. Bengtson, Philipp und Alexander der Grosse: Die Begründer der hellenistischen Welt (Munich: Callwey, 1985), 62; Martin, Sovereignty and Coinage, 91; Wirth, Philipp, 105; Gehrke, Stasis, 195; N. G. L. Hammond, The Macedonian State: Origins, Institutions, and History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 185; Ryder, “Skills,” 247–248; A. B. Bosworth, “Philip (1) II,” in OCD, 1161; Rhodes, “Federal States,” 591; Rhodes, History, 343; Beck, Polis, 132; H. Beck, “Thessaloi, Thessalia,” in NPauly 12/1 (2002): 449; Welwei, Athen, 300; Badian, “Philippos II.,” 800; G. A. Lehmann, Demosthenes von Athen: Ein Leben für die Freiheit. Biographie (Munich: Beck, 2004), 108; Worthington, Philip II, xvi. 7. Ellis, “Macedon and North-west Greece,” 745. 8. E.g., Walbank, Commentary, 2:165; Sakellariou, “Panhellenism,” 135; Th. R. Martin, “Diodorus on Philip II and Thessaly in the 350s b.c.,” CP 76 (1981): 199–200; Sánchez, L’Amphictionie, 194–195. 9. E.g., Sordi, Lega, 249–260; M. Sordi, in Storiografia locale e storiografia universale: Forme di acquisizione del sapere storico nella cultura antica (Como: New Press, 2001); Sordi, Scritti, 559–566; Hornblower, Greek World, 97. 10. E.g., Hampl, “Philippos,” 414; Roebuck, “Settlements,” 75; Momigliano, Filippo, 140–141; Walbank, Commentary, 2:165; Sakellariou, “Panhellenism,” 135, 138, 144; Buckler, Greece, 419–420; Beck, Polis, 131–132; Welwei, Athen, 300, 314; Lehmann, Demosthenes, 108; Rhodes, History, 343; Worthington, Philip II, xvi, 65, 103, 111. 11. E.g., Ellis, Philip II, 16, 83; Larsen, States, 26; Hornblower, Greek World, 272, 287. 12. E.g., Helly, L’État thessalien, 49, 52–55, 66–67; Beck, “Thebes,” 339. 13. E.g., Cawkwell, Philip, 62; Walbank, Commentary, 2:165; Buckler, “Philip II’s Designs,” 90; Buckler, Greece, 419–420; Gehrke, Stasis, 195; Ryder, “Skills,” 247–248; Beck, Polis, 132; Rhodes, History, 343; Giovannini, Relations, 392; Worthington, Philip II, 65. 14. Harris, Aeschines, 175–176. But see also Badian, “Philippos II.,” 798–803, and Heskel, “Foreign Policy,” who seem to have preferred to pass over this matter.

Appendix 5

(02)

(03) (04)

(05)

(06)

(07)

(08)

(09)

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power victory gave such a man would be more than they could put up with—but Philip, king of Macedonia, and they freely submitted to a foreigner power as they feared to see in the hands of their own people.” Dem. 1.22 (349): “I have also been informed that they will no longer hand over to him the profits of their harbors and markets, on the ground that this sum ought to be applied to the government of Thessaly and not find its way into Philip’s coffers. Now if he is deprived of this source of revenue, he will be hard put to it to pay for the maintenance of his mercenaries.” Schol. Dem. 1.22: “being in agreement with him, the Thessalians gave him Pagasae in disposal as well as money dues from harbors and market places.” Polyb. 9.28.2-3: “Philip, by selling its inhabitants (i.e., of Olynthus) into slavery and making an example of it, not only obtained possession of the Thracian cities, but intimidated the Thessalians into submission.” Isocr. 5.20 (346): “Has he not converted the Thessalians, whose power formerly extended over Macedonia, into an attitude so friendly to him that every Thessalian has more confidence in him than in his own fellow-countrymen (ἢ τοˆι ς συμπολιτευομένοις)? And as to the cities which are in that region, has he not drawn some of them by his benefactions into an alliance with him; and others, which sorely tried him, has he not razed to the ground?” Polyaen. 4.2.19: “He supported rather than destroyed factions, took care of the weak, brought down the more powerful, was a friend of the people, and cultivated the popular leaders. By these stratagems Philip mastered Thessaly, not by arms.” Dem. 6.22 (344): “‘And what of the Thessalians? Do you imagine,’ I said, ‘that when he was expelling their despots, or again when he was presenting them with Nicaea and Magnesia, they ever dreamed that a Council of Ten would be established among them, as it is today, or that the same man who restored to them the Amphictyonic meeting at Thermopylae would also appropriate their own revenues.’” Diod. 16.69.8: “Then he marched into Thessaly, and by expelling tyrants from the cities won over the Thessalians through gratitude. With them as his allies, he expected that the Greeks too would easily be won over also to his favor; and this is just what happened. The neighboring Greeks straightway associated themselves with the decision of the Thessalians and became his enthusiastic allies.” Dem. 8.14 (342–341?): “He is now established in Thrace with a large force, and is sending for considerable reinforcements from Macedonia and Thessaly, according to the statements of those on the spot.” Dem. 9.26 (341–340?): “But how stands the case of the Thessalians? Has he not robbed them of their free constitutions and of their very cities, setting up tetrarchies in order to enslave them, not city by city but tribe by tribe?”

15. See also Iust. 18.4.4. Translations of Justin’s text are those by J. C. Yardley (slightly modified). 16. It is hard to accept Griffith’s proposal (“Interventions,” 74), which does not seem to have received any support, that the second sentence in this passage pertains not to Thessaly but to Macedonia. Isocrates (8.118) earlier referred to the disunity among the Thessalians as well (355). 17. Polyaen. 4.2.19 (trans. Krentz and Wheeler).

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(11) FGrH 115 (Theopomp.) F 208 (= FHG II, Aristotle, F 145 = Harpocr. s.v. τετραρχία): “Philip established an archon over each of these parts (καθ᾿ ἑκάστην τούτων τῶν μοιρῶν ἄρχοντα κατέστησε).” (12) FGrH 115 (Theopomp.) F 209 (= Athenae. 6, p. 249c): “Philip established Thrasydaios as tyrant over his compatriots.” (13) Plut. Demosth. 18.2: After Philip occupied Phocis, Demosthenes urged the Athenians to cling to Thebes and was sent, together with several other Athenians, to that city. Philip sent his own embassy, which consisted of Amyntas and Clearchos of Macedonia and Daochos and Thrasydaios of Thessaly. (14) Aeschin. 3.167 (330): “You cause a revolt of the Thessalians? Could you cause the revolt of a village?” (15) Dem. 18.43: “Those vile Thessalians and those ill-conditioned Thebans regarded Philip as their friend, their benefactor and their deliverer”; and 18.147: Philip was elected by the Thessalians and Thebans as their “leader” (ἡγεμὼν αἱρεθ ῇ) (330). (16) Diod. 17.4.1: “First he (i.e., Alexander) dealt with the Thessalians, reminding them of his ancient relationship to them through Heracles and raising their hopes by kindly words and by rich promises as well, and prevailed upon them by formal vote of the Thessalians to recognize as his the leadership of Greece which he had inherited from his father (ἔπεισε τὴν πατροπαράδοτον ἡγεμονίαν τῆς Ἑλλάδος αὐτῷ συγχωρῆσαι κοινῷ τῆς Θετταλίας δόγματι).” (17) Iust. 11.3.2: “The Thessalians had listened eagerly to all this and, like his father before him, Alexander had been appointed supreme commander of their entire people, all their taxes and revenues being made over to him (dux universae gentis creatus erat et vectigalia omnia reditusque suos ei tradiderant).” After the death of Alexander of Pherae (358), the position of the Thessalian supreme official (tagos) was held by several people in quick succession; each of them murdered his predecessor in the name of freedom from tyranny. This situation of permanent political instability was what brought about the first contacts between Philip and Thessaly. The date of Philip’s earliest interference into the affairs of the Thessalians has been debated: some propose that Philip’s earliest campaigns in Thessaly took place only in the late 350s. For example, Diodoros says that—after Philip razed the city of Methone (traditionally dated to 354), losing an eye during this campaign—“Philip in response to a summons from the Thessalians (ὑπὸ Θετταλῶν μετακληθείς) entered Thessaly with his army, and at first carried on a war against Lycophron, tyrant of Pherae, in support of the Thessalians,” whereas, in the words of the

18. For more on Thrasydaios, see also n. 67 below. 19. This dating: Westlake, Thessaly, 156–159; A. B. Bosworth, “Alexander of Pherae,” in OCD, 59–60; W. Schmitz, “Alexandros von Pherai,” in NPauly 1 (1996): 476–477. 20. Esp. Xen. Hellen. 6.4.33–35. 21. Esp. Griffith, “Interventions,” 67–73: Gehrke, Stasis, 194; Ryder, “Skills,” 247; E. Badian, “Xenophon the Athenian,” in Xenophon and His World, ed. C. Tuplin (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2004), 34. For an earlier history of relations between Macedonian and Thessalian rulers, see Cloché, Fondateur, 80–82; Wirth, Philipp, 47–48; Buckler, Sacred War, 58–59; Buckler, Greece, 392–393. 22. E.g., Cloché, Fondateur, 83, 87; Chr. Ehrhardt, in CQ, n.s., 17 (1967): 296–301; Martin, “Diodorus,” 188–201; Heskel, “Foreign Policy,” 99–108; Buckler, Sacred War, 60; Lehmann, Demosthenes, 107; Worthington, Philip II, xvi.

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scholiast of Demosthenes, in 353, Philip was summoned by the children of one of the Aleuadae and helped them to get rid of the “tyranny” of their father. However, Diodoros’s use of μετακληθείς and the words of the scholiast that Philip was summoned “for the sake of alliance” indicate that contacts between Philip and the Thessalians had been established before the late 350s. This conclusion is strengthened by the words of several ancient authors (including Diodoros) that in the early 350s, Philip helped the Aleuadae to overthrow the tyranny of the brothers of Thebe, the widow of Alexander, thus indebting the Thessalians to himself by having brought them “freedom.” It is quite possible, therefore, to agree with the views that Philip might have undertaken more than one campaign in Thessaly in 358–356 and that he could have established an alliance with the Thessalians prior to 355. Not surprisingly, Philip presented his interference as gestures of goodwill: “[W]hen the Pelinnaeans were at war with the Pharsalians, the Pheraeans were at war with the Larisaeans, and the other Thessalians had taken sides, he always responded positively to requests for aid.” Therefore, Philip used the growing internal discord among the leading men of the Thessalians to his own advantage. Irrespective of suggested datings, Philip’s policy of allying himself with different sides was well reflected by Polyaenos, who spoke about Philip’s stratagems (06), and Isocrates, who said that Philip held more trust among the Thessalians than some of their fellow countrymen (05). Now, Philip, once again, used the slogan of freedom, which allowed him to interfere in the internal affairs of the Thessalians as if he were protecting them from each other. Then they, in the words of the scholiast (03), decided to give to him revenues from harbors and markets. Therefore, the “revenues,” mentioned by Demosthenes (02), came to Philip not because he was the ruler of Thessaly but as part of his alliance with the Thessalians (these revenues had been designated to pay mercenaries: 02), which, judging by the scholiast’s words (μετεπέμψαντο πρὸς συμμαχίαν τὸν Φίλιππον), was probably in place even before 353. Hence Demosthenes’s attention to the issue of revenues (02 and 07), including the possibility of Philip being deprived of them (02): all this talk would have been irrelevant if Philip had been entitled to these revenues by virtue of having been elected to the life-long official leadership of the Thessalians.

23. Diod. 16.35.1 with Kahrstedt, Forschungen, 42, 49, on Philip’s siege of Methone, which preceded his campaign in Thessaly, as described twice by Diodoros: Diod. 16.31 (354: accepted by Kahrstedt as correct) and 16.34 (353), who, therefore, dated Philip’s campaign in Thessaly to 353. Schol. Dem. 1.22. 24. Diod. 16.14.2 (357–356); see the same story in Xen. Hellen. 6.4.35–37 (358–357) and Plut. Pelop. 35.3-7. 25. Westlake, Thessaly, 166–168; see also Martin, Sovereignty and Coinage, 89–90. For this ambiguity, see, e.g., D. H. Kelly, in Antichthon 14 (1980): 78–79, who noted that “the Thessalians were driven to resort to Philip for help against the tyrants” in 358, but dated “Philip’s first intervention in Thessaly” to 354. 26. E.g., Kahrstedt, Forschungen, 43; Hornblower, Greek World, 269, 272. 27. Polyaen. 4.2.19 (trans. Krentz and Wheeler). 28. See also Westlake, Thessaly, 160–195; Markle III, “Peace of Philocrates,” 56; Griffith, in HM, 2:227–230. These words of Isocrates undermine Worthington’s idea (Philip II, 65) that Philip “may have been made a citizen of Larisa.” 29. Harris, Aeschines, 176, very pointedly noted that “it was not unusual for one member of an alliance to pay some contribution to the dominant member in return for protection,” with reference to Thuc. 7.28.4: the Athenians collected harbor dues from their allies. For such evidence from later times, see also below.

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The usual arguments in favor of Philip’s having occupied the official leadership of the Thessalian League have been three: (i) the above-mentioned reference by Demosthenes to Philip’s disposal of revenues from harbors and markets in 349 (02); (ii) Philip’s reorganization of Thessaly (10-12); and, finally, (iii) the words of Justin that, similar to his father before him, Alexander was created dux universae gentis by the Thessalians and was given “all their taxes and revenues” (17). However, as we have seen above, Philip’s disposal of these revenues did not imply that he held any official position in Thessaly. As for the second argument, Philip’s reorganization of Thessaly obviously reflected the aspirations of the Thessalians themselves, who were divided into factions that had been set apart (and against each other) by Philip (06), who thus claimed to protect their freedom. Tetrarchies are thought to have been a traditional form of organization for the Thessalians; therefore, Philip could claim to have been resurrecting their old practice. He introduced similar administrative reorganizations elsewhere, that is, in Phocis, Achaea, and Aetolia (see chapter 2), where Philip also did not hold any official position. Finally, the previously quoted words of Justin lead to two observations. First, when Diodoros described this episode, he (16) said that the Thessalians confirmed Alexander’s “leadership of Greece, which he inherited from his father” (τὴν πατροπαράδοτον ἡγεμονίαν τῆς Ἑλλάδος). Justin may have simply misinterpreted his sources by limiting the meaning of this expression to Alexander’s (and Philip’s) leadership of only the Thessalians. Second, Justin (01) used the same word, “leader” (dux), when he narrated the election of Philip, as general, by the Thessalians and Thebans in the war against Onomarchos. As we have seen above, Philip’s alliance not only with the Thessalians but with some of the Greeks (which most likely included the Thebans) has been indicated by Justin (01) and Demosthenes (15), and implied by Diodoros (08). The alliance between Philip and Thebes has been quite well documented. Ancient authors date this alliance to the time of the Third Sacred war, even though they attribute it to different periods: for example, Pausanias put it after Philomelos died and Onomarchos became the leader of the Phocians, whereas Diodoros dated it closer to the end of the war. But we also see references to Philip’s having an alliance with the Thebans and the Thessalians by Demosthenes, Aeschines, and Justin. And this alliance has been accepted as a matter of fact.

30. E.g., Sordi, Lega, 250–252; Walbank, Commentary, 2:165; Griffith, “Interventions,” 73–80; Griffith, in HM, 2:285; Buckler, Sacred War, 80; Buckler, Greece, 419–420, 420 n. 41. 31. Buckler’s idea (Greece, 420 n. 41) that Harris’s reliance on Thuc. 7.28.4 (see n. 29 above) and Iust. 11.3.1–2 (see 17) was a “mistake” and that “both passages actually stand against his point” does not seem to give justice to Harris’s argument. Thucydides’s words are clear. And one can easily establish a parallel between the financial obligations of Athenian “allies” (ὑπήκοοι) and those of Philip’s Thessalians (cf. 04: Θετταλοὺς ὑφ᾿ αὑτὸν ἐποιήσατο), whereas Justin’s phrase about Alexander’s status in Thessaly (17) should be examined together both with another passage from his text (01) and with what Diodoros says about Alexander and the Thessalians (16). 32. There are no grounds for thinking that Diodoros added τῆς Ἑλλάδος by mistake: F. Rühl, “Vermischte Bemerkungen,” Neues Jahrbuch für Philologie und Pädagogik 1 (1888): 114; Sordi, Lega, 250 n. 2. Nor is there any reason to believe that “Alexander persuaded the Thessalian League to grant him the double title of hegemon and archon”: Poddighe, “Alexander,” 101. 33. Dem. 18.211–213, 19.85; Diod. 16.59.4. 34. Dem. 23.181–183; Paus. 10.2.5; Diod. 16.58.2–3, 16.59. 35. E.g., Dem. 2.7; 5.14 and 20; 6.14; 18.166; 19.318, 321; Aeschin. 2.104, 136–137, 140–141; Iust. 18.4.4. 36. E.g., P. Treves, in Les Études Classiques 9 (1940): 161; Sánchez, L’Amphictionie, 201–204.

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Therefore, attempts to connect Justin’s mentions of dux to Philip’s official position in Thessaly have been quite a stretch. Justin also makes it clear that this title was not allotted by the Thessalians alone. Harris, who rightly pointed to this fact, interpreted Justin’s words (01) as referring to “Philip’s position as leader of the Amphictyons.” Of course, Philip used his place on the council of the Amphictyons in various ways. On the one hand, however, if one accepts Harris’s view, then Philip’s leadership was unofficial, because Philip is thought to have been admitted to the Amphictyonic council only by the mid-340s. Pausanias and Diodoros put the transfer of votes at the Amphictyonic council from the Phocians to Philip after the end of the “Phocian war,” or the Third Sacred war (355–346), even though Pausanias dated its end to 348. And Demosthenes said that the Thessalians and Philip’s envoys asked the Athenians to vote for Philip’s admission to the Amphictyonic council. Philip’s admission to the Amphictyonic council could take place only after the establishment of the peace of Philocrates (346) because Athens then had formally to acknowledge the new status of Philip and Macedonia. On the other hand, Philip would hardly have needed such a request if he were the official leader of Thessaly, which already belonged to the Amphictyons. But Philip did not simply receive this position, and the outcome of his election to the Amphictyonic council was still uncertain: Demosthenes was encouraging the Athenians to vote in such a way that “Philip should have no share in the Amphictyonic business.” All this uncertainty would have been out of place if Philip had assumed the official leadership of the Thessalians, which would have automatically entitled him to a place on the Amphictyonic council. Finally, we also know that the Amphictyons elected Philip as their commander in chief (strategos autokrator) against the people of Amphissa. Such evidence shows that Philip had not been elected to the official leadership of the Thessalians, but as the supreme commander of the allied forces of the Thessalians and the Boeotians in the war against the Phocians. Demosthenes reflected on this situation even in 330 (15). It follows that after the death of Philip, the Thessalians, like other Greeks, confirmed Alexander as the “leader (dux) of Greece,” that is, as the general of the Corinthian League,

37. E.g., Sordi, Lega, 250; Griffith, “Interventions,” 73. 38. Harris, Aeschines, 175. 39. Wirth, Philipp, 95; Borza, “Philip II,” 241; F. Lefèvre, Documents Amphictioniques (Paris: De Boccard, 2002), 64–66. 40. Diod. 16.60.1–2; Paus. 10.3.1–3. This date: e.g., F. Lefèvre, in Le IVe siècle av. J.-C. Approches historiographiques, ed. P. Carlier (Nancy: ADRA, 1996), 122–124; Hornblower, Greek World, 275. 41. Dem. 19.111. See also Diod. 16.59.4–16.60.4. 42. E.g., Roebuck, “Settlements,” 77–78; Giovannini, “Les origines,” 854; Cawkwell, Philip, 106, 112–113; Buckler, Sacred War, 114 n. 1; P. J. Rhodes, “The Polis and the Alternatives,” in CAH 6 (1994): 588; Rhodes, “Amphiktyonia,” in NPauly 1 (1996): 612; Ellis, “Macedon and North-west Greece,” 759; A. B. Bosworth, “Philip,” in OCD, 1161; Lefèvre, Documents Amphictioniques, 64. Cf. G. Roux, L’Amphictionie, Delphes et le temple d’Apollon au IVe siècle (Lyon: Maison de l’Orient; Paris: De Boccard, 1979), 7 (summer 346), 53, 165–167. 43. Cf., e.g., Isocr. 5.79; Aeschin. 2.116; Dem. 19.50. 44. Dem. 5.19, 19.181. For the transfer of the Phocian votes to Philip, see n. 40 above. 45. Dem. 18.155 and P. Treves, in Les Études Classiques 9 (1940): 164. 46. As Roux, L’Amphictionie, 165–166; Th. R. Martin, in HSCP 86 (1982): 63 n. 27; Rhodes, “The Polis and the Alternatives,” 588. 47. As Harris, Aeschines, 176. Thessaly’s participation in the Corinthian League: IG II 1.236 (338–337).

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and as their ally, which entitled him to the revenues that had been given by all the Greeks (except the Spartans), including the Thessalians, to his father. Philip’s position with respect to the Thessalians in the 340s is reminiscent of the status of several people in Greek history. One of them was Alexander I the Molossian, who became the hegemon of the Molossian forces and of their allies, in the same way as Pyrrhos (the Great), who was referred to as the hegemon of the Epirotes and of the Tarentines. Another person who occupied a similar position in Greek history was Antigonos Doson. Having been twice approached by the Achaeans, who were desperate to secure his military help, Antigonos was able to make the best deal he could: his treaty of alliance with the Achaeans secured him both Corinth and Acrocorinth, made him “leader with full powers (autokrator hegemon) by land and sea,” established his control over the Achaeans, who were prohibited to write or send an embassy to any other king against the wishes of Antigonos, and also obliged the Achaeans to furnish supplies and pay for the Macedonian troops. A similar obligation to provide payment to the Macedonian troops is encountered in treaties of alliance between Antigonos and the cities of Eleutherna and Hierapytna, which demonstrates that such clauses were not rare in treaties of military alliances. These same principles were extended by Antigonos when he established his military alliance (significantly, in Aegium, which was the traditional meeting place of the Achaeans at that time), thus becoming not so much a tool of fighting against a common enemy as for controlling the alliance as such. Antigonos was proclaimed the general (hegemon) over all the allies, that is, of almost all of Greece, and his status in the Symmachy was similar to the one that he had in his treaty with the Achaeans. Just as Antigonos’s alliance with the Achaeans served to polish the principles that would then be applied to his Symmachy, Philip II’s alliance with the Thessalians had played the same rôle for his Corinthian League. Not surprisingly, therefore, some have proposed that Antigonos could have been elected as the hegemon of the Achaean League. Both the Symmachy and Antigonos’s treaty with the Achaeans, which required the Achaeans to provide payment for the Macedonian troops, would then be inherited by Philip V, who thus could also expect to continue receiving payment from the Achaeans. Similar cases seem to have been the alliance formed by the Greeks against Alexander, which was presided over by Agis III, and the alliance between Antiochos III and the Aetolian League. In the latter case, the Great King was elected the strategos autokrator (Appian) or imperator (Livy) of the allied forces, which most certainly did not entitle him to supreme

48. E.g., Hammond, Epirus, 534–535 (who also noted that “Philip and Alexander of Macedon had an analogous position in regard to Macedonia and the Greeks”), 549 and 570, respectively. 49. Le Bohec, Antigone, 364–367. 50. Plut. Arat. 45.1; Polyb. 2.52.4, 2.54.1. 51. Plut. Arat. 38.6; Polyb. 2.54.4: ἡγεμὼν ἁπάντων τῶν συμμάχων. 52. Plut. Arat. 45.1. 53. Plut. Arat. 45.2: τρέφειν τε καὶ μισθοδοτεˆι ν ἡναγκάζοντο τοὺς Μακεδόνας. The evidence: Staatsverträge 3, no. 506. The debate on the date: Schmitt, ad Staatsverträge 3, no. 506 (summer 224); Bengtson, Labraunda, 40 (early 224); F. W. Walbank, in CAH 7.1 (1984), 465–467 and Le Bohec, Antigone, 367–368 (225–224). 54. Staatsverträge 3, nos. 501.31–34 and 502.22–32 (both c.227–224?), respectively. 55. Le Bohec, Antigone, 402. Aegium: Liv. 38.30.2–4; Aymard, Les assemblées, 284–285. 56. Polyb. 2.54.4. The tentative list of members of the League: Le Bohec, Antigone, 378, 390. 57. E.g., Walbank, Commentary, 1:256 (ad 2.54.4). Pace Vollmer, Symploke, 92 n. 26. 58. Polyb. 4.82.5.

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rule over the Aetolians. In all such cases, an outsider was invited to be the commander in chief of his allies. However, returning to Philip and the Thessalians, the First (02) and Second Olynthian orations mention Demosthenes’s attempt to incite the Thessalians against Philip in 349(– 348). His Third Olynthian oration, which is generally thought to have been delivered a little later, makes no such reference. Polybios (04) noted that the fate of Olynthus, which was captured by Philip in 348, intimidated the Thessalians into submission. This did not mean, however, any change in Philip’s status in Thessaly. He remained an ally of the Thessalians in 346, as mentioned by Isocrates (05) and supported by Diodoros (08). As an ally, Philip engaged the Thessalians during his campaign in Thrace later in the 340s (09). Although the words of Polybios have been labeled a “simplification,” Philip’s success with Olynthus obviously strengthened his position and allowed him to introduce certain changes in Thessaly, such as the dekadarchia that is first attested in 344, while continuing to receive Thessalian revenues (07). Tetrarchies, which Philip introduced in the late 340s, allowed Demosthenes (10) to classify the position of the Thessalians as “servitude” in 341. The division of Thessaly into tetrarchies was accompanied by the establishment of an archon (and, therefore, separate administration) over each such territory (11). Philip’s establishment of Thrasydaios as a tyrant of Thessaly (12; cf. 13) probably also came about either closer to the end of the 340s or at a later date. Philip’s stratagems meant that he used the Thessalians’ own internal discord to establish his rule over them. “The Thessalians” did not necessarily designate the Thessalian League, and

59. Agis III: Diod. 17.62.6–8. Antiochos III: App. Syr. 12; Liv. 35.45.9. Cf. Bengtson, Herrschergestalten, 203: the Aetolians elected Antiochos III to be the general of their league. 60. Dem. 2.11. Ian Worthington (Philip II, xvi) dated the two speeches to 349. 61. As Sordi, Lega, 264; Westlake, Thessaly, 184. The date of the Third Olynthiac speech: Kahrstedt, Forchungen, 58, 60–61, 122 (349); Cloché, La politique, 213, 217, and Martin, “Diodorus,” 199 (349–348 or 348); Worthington, Philip II, xvi, 77 (348). Cf. Martin, Sovereignty and Coinage, 98, who also noted this difference between the first two and the third speech but doubted its importance, since, in his opinion, there is no way to establish beyond doubt that the third speech was delievered later, and MacDowell, Demosthenes, 238, who put all three Olynthiacs in 349–348. 62. Cf. Buckler, Sacred War, 70: “after the battle of the Crocus Plain .  .  . Philip assumed full control of Thessalian politics,” 79–80. 63. Cf. Westlake, Thessaly, 200, on this passage as evidence for Philip’s official leadership over Thessaly. 64. Walbank, Commentary, vol. 2 ad Polyb. 9.28.2–3 (= 04). 65. Philip’s reorganization of the Thessalian League has been dated to the late 340s: Kahrstedt, Forchungen, 85 (343); Roebuck, “Settlements,” 75 n. 14 (342); Momigliano, Filippo, 140–141; Wüst, Philipp, 99–101 (344–342); Sordi, Lega, 275 (344–342); Westlake, Thessaly, 181 (by 341); Griffith, in HM, 2:288 (344–342), 533–535 (c.342); Beck, Polis, 132–133 (344); Gehrke, Stasis, 195, 376–377; Ryder, “Skills,” 248 (342), 249 (343 or 342). A summary of opinions: Walbank, Commentary, 2:165–166. 66. See Dem. 8.62. 67. See also Dem. 18.48 and 295. It is curious that he was omitted by Polybios in the latter’s rendering of Demosthenes’s list of the “betrayers of Greece,” who joined Philip: Polyb. 18.14.2–4; for various lists of such “betrayers,” see J. Cargill, in Ancient World 11 (1985): 82–83. Ellis, “Macedon and North-west Greece,” 764, referred to Thrasydaios as one of the tetrarchs, thus dating his establishment to the very late 340s, and explained this reference as a hyperbole. However, the original text reads Θρασυδαˆι ον τὸν Θεσσαλὸν καταστῆσαι τῶν ὁμοεθνῶν τύραννον, which allows us to think that this appointment could have concerned Thessaly as a whole (see 13).

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Philip was dealing not with the Thessalian League but with the different groups among the Thessalians, which he set against each other. Therefore, he could hardly have held the official leadership of the Thessalians in the late fifties and early forties. And he neither needed nor wanted the official leadership at a later date,that is, once he had already established his overall control over the Thessalians and had their political and social system reformed in the late 340s. Philip’s establishment of the tetrarchies probably reflected the state of Thessaly at the time. Formally, Philip guaranteed autonomy and freedom to all major groups among the Thessalians. However, the actual outcome was that the divided Thessalians were much easier to deal with for Philip, who ruled the strong Macedonian kingdom.

68. Demosthenes’s list of the “betayers of Greece” (see preceding note), which mentions “betrayers” from among the Thessalians, along with those from the Arcadians, Argives, Elaeans, and other political entities in Greece, also ipso facto suggests that none of these regions, including Thessaly, was under Philip’s direct administration.

Appendix 6

demosthenes’s macedonian diplomacy in the reign of alexander

i Even if Philip’s smashing defeat of Athens and her allies at Chaeronea in 338 did not make Demosthenes realize that an open conflict with Macedonia would signal Athens’ doom, he should have understood the realities of Macedonian might after narrowly escaping his own surrender to Alexander and then witnessing the rebellious Thebes being razed to the ground in 335. Forming an anti-Macedonian military alliance was now out of the question: any political power in Greece was expected to deal with Macedonia one-on-one. Demosthenes’s rejection of an openly anti-Macedonian stance has already been noted by many, even though the ways of and the reason for this change have been debated. Demosthenes, who led Athenian diplomacy in the reign of Alexander, switched from an overtly anti-Macedonian stance to using favorable circumstances in the interests of Athens to bargain with Macedonia. Two of the most prominent occasions of this new policy were the Spartan revolt of Agis III in 331 and the Harpalos affair in 324. There is little doubt as to Demosthenes’s rôle in instigating the Spartan revolt. Athens, however, remained uninvolved, and Demosthenes refrained from urging the Athenians to join

1. Cf. Plut. Dem. 23.1–5. 2. Cawkwell, “Crowning,” 168; P. Carlier, Démosthène (Paris: Fayard, 1990), 238–241. 3. E.g., Cawkwell, “Crowning,” 168; I. Worthington, “Alexander and Athens in 324/323: On the Greek Attitude to the Macedonian Hegemony,” in Ancient Macedonia: An Australian Symposium. The University of Melbourne, 8–13 July 1991 [Mediterranean Archeology 7] (Sydney: University of Sydney, 1994), 48–49; J. Witte, Demosthenes und die patrios politeia: Von der imaginären Verfassung zur politischen Idee (Bonn: Habelt, 1995), 14, 16; Worthington, Philip II, 71, 114. 4. Aeschin. 3.167.

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the rebellion. After his appeal to Athens ended in vain, Agis probably became engaged in a verbal duel with Demades, one of the leading Athenian politicians of that time. Interestingly, Plutarch’s story about these events makes no mention of Demosthenes, who continued to rally anti-Macedonian forces in Athens. In the following year, the proposal of Ctesiphon to honor Demosthenes with a golden crown for his unfailing service to the city was opposed by Aeschines. He accused Demosthenes of only pretending to be working against Alexander: according to Aeschines, while Demosthenes bragged that he had organized the Spartan uprising and was bringing about the uprising of the Thessalians and the Perrhaebi, he did not use such favorable occurrences against Alexander’s power. Aeschines’s words, however, revealed only a part of the story. The envoys from Athens are known to have met with Alexander sometime in early 331. The two major sources about this meeting disagree. Curtius put it after Alexander’s visit to the oracle of Ammon. As the king was already on his way back to the east, Alexander “gave audience to the envoys of the Athenians, the Rhodians, and the Chians; the Athenians congratulated him on his victory and begged that the Greek prisoners should be restored to their country; the Rhodians and the Chians made complaints of their garrisons. The requests of all seemed just and were granted.” Arrian also says that after Alexander returned from visiting the oracle, “many embassies reached him from Greece, and he sent away no one disappointed in his request.” Arrian gives no details, but his words have been understood as referring to the same embassies mentioned by Curtius. However, Curtius speaks not of “many” but only of three embassies, including the one from Athens. Arrian, after describing the “many embassies” that met with Alexander in Egypt, singularly refers to the Athenian embassy that arrived after Alexander had left Egypt and reached Tyre, and when the “spring [of 331] began to show itself,” that is, when the revolt of Agis is generally thought to have begun. The Athenian envoys “achieved all the objects of their mission,” including the restoration of those Athenians captured at the Granicus. Immediately afterward, says Arrian, “on learning that there was a movement of revolt against him in the Peloponnese,” Alexander took the necessary steps against it. Two Athenian missions to Alexander within several months, both with the same aim and both equally successful, were unlikely. Our accounts disagree on details. In particular, Curtius describes how, having returned from the oracle of Ammon, Alexander dealt with captured tyrants, including Aristonicos of Methymna, prior to addressing the requests of the envoys from Greece. According to Arrian, Alexander had dealt with Aristonicos and other tyrants before his visit to the oracle of Ammon, and this visit was followed by Alexander’s dealings

5. Aeschin. 3.165–167; Plut. Dem. 24.1. D. S. Porter, “IG II 399: Evidence for Athenian Involvement in the War of Agis III,” ABSA 79 (1984): 229–235, argued for the Athenian support to Agis III, on the basis of the honorific decree for Eurylochus of Cydonia (IG II 399 = Moretti, Iscrizioni, vol. 1, no. 2: 320–319 b.c.?) and circumstantial evidence. 6. Cf. Plut. Reg.imp.apopht. 191e and Plut. Apopht.Lac. 216c. 7. Aeschin. 3.167. 8. Curt. 4.8.12–13. 9. Arr. 3.5.1. E.g., Brunt ad hoc in the Loeb’s edition of Arrian’s Anabasis. 10. Arr. 3.6.1–3. For the commonly accepted view of dating the start of Agis’s revolt to the spring of 331, see, e.g., Badian, “Agis III,” 268–271. 11. Curt. 4.8.11; Arr. 3.2.3–7.

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with Greek embassies. Curtius most probably put together events that occurred at different times. Irrespective of their disagreements on details, both Curtius and Arrian appear to be in accord that Alexander learned about the Spartan revolt only after the arrival of the Athenian envoys (and when he had already left Egypt), probably from these envoys. Athenian envoys succeeded in their mission to Alexander because the Athenians refused to join the Spartan revolt (and probably happened to be the first to inform Alexander about it). Diodoros, who does not seem to mention the Athenian embassy to Alexander, says that at the time of the Spartan revolt, “the Athenians, who had been favored by Alexander beyond all the other Greeks, kept quiet.” Alexander’s “favors” probably meant those fulfilled “requests” and “objects” of the Athenian embassy that were mentioned by Curtius and Arrian. George Cawkwell has also connected Agis’s revolt with the Athenian embassy to Alexander. But, according to him, the revolt of Agis occurred “later in the year” and “continued into 330,” which obscures the significance of the embassy that happened in the spring of 331. In addition, Cawkwell argued that by advocating neutrality at the revolt of Agis, Demosthenes “chose the safe course,” as he had expected Darius to crush Alexander, and this was the reason that Demosthenes’s policy eventually ended in disaster: neither Sparta nor Persia was left to put a check on Alexander’s might. However, first, the synchronism of the battles of Megalopolis and Gaugamelae has already been rejected, as was noted by Cawkwell himself and supported by others. Second, if Demosthenes was behind this Athenian embassy, as seems likely, he used the Spartan revolt—that he himself had helped to instigate—not to further the cause of Greek freedom, which he probably thought hopeless at that time, but to make a better bargain for Athens, especially in such a delicate matter as the restoration of Alexander’s prisoners of war. A similar situation occurred in 324, when Alexander’s fugitive treasurer Harpalos found refuge in Athens at about the time when Nicanor, an emissary of Alexander, announced the latter’s Exiles Decree at the Olympian festival. This Decree restored all Greek exiles (with a few exceptions) to every place in the Greek world. We do not have precise dates either for Harpalos’s arrival in and departure from Athens or for Nicanor’s journey to Olympia. Nor do we know when in 324 the Olympian festival took place. It is not certain, either, exactly when the Athenian sacred embassy to this festival departed and came back. The sequence of major events, however, seems to be clear. First, Harpalos arrived and was eventually admitted by the Athenians, who promptly put him under arrest. Then the Athenian “sacred embassy,” which was probably elected about the time of Harpalos’s arrival (the news of his arrival could have spread through Greece in advance), set off to Olympia. Finally, soon after the “sacred embassy”

12. Arrian 3.6.3. (with direct reference); Curtius 4.8.15: Alexander then sent his admiral Amphoteros to liberate Crete, most of which was occupied by Persian and Spartan forces. But Arrian reports that Alexander sent Amphoteros to the Peloponnese, so that he could help those of the Peloponnesians that were “quite sound as regards the Persian war and were not inclined to listen to the Lacedaemonians.” 13. Diod. 17.62.7. 14. Cawkwell, “Crowning,” 177–180. 15. E.g., K. L. Noethlichs, in Zu Alexander d. Gr. Festschrift G. Wirth, ed. W. Will (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1987), 1:395–396; Badian, “Agis III,” 272–277. 16. So Cawkwell, “Crowning,” 177. 17. See Cawkwell, “Crowning,” 168. 18. A summary of opinions about these dates: Dmitriev, “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” 368–369.

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returned to Athens, Harpalos made his way out of Athens to Crete, where he was quickly murdered. The question that emerges is why Demosthenes had himself elected as the president of this “sacred embassy,” for the opportunity of negotiating with Nicanor at Olympia. The main topic of their negotiations was likely to be the Exiles Decree, which threatened Athens with the loss of Samos. There was obviously no way Demosthenes and the Athenians could resist or reject this Decree. Why, then, did Demosthenes offer himself as the president of this embassy? Although a true citizen of Athens, Demosthenes would not knowingly ruin his political career by volunteering to lead an embassy doomed from the very beginning. It is possible, therefore, that when he was pushing for his election as the president of the “sacred embassy,” Demosthenes already knew about not only the Exiles Decree, as did many in Greece, but also the forthcoming arrival of Harpalos. Additionally, in the absence of precise chronological indicators, we should not exclude the possibility that when the “sacred embassy” was being elected, not only had Nicanor arrived in Greece, but Harpalos had already been admitted, or was about to be admitted, into Athens as well. Demosthenes proposed a decree, approved by the people, to restore the money brought to Athens by Harpalos back to Alexander. He also proposed a decree, similarly approved by the people, that a guard should be posted over the person of Harpalos. We do not know exactly when these decrees were ratified by the people. Nor do we know how much time it took to introduce the decrees or if they were ratified at the same time, which could have given us some idea about how much time passed between Harpalos’s admittance in Athens and the departure of the “sacred embassy” to Olympia. However, before the embassy traveled to Olympia, Demosthenes made a speech in which he urged the people not to surrender Harpalos (and the money) to the envoys sent by Philoxenos, one of Alexander’s generals. The argument put forth by Demosthenes, judging by Hyperides’s words, was that “Alexander must not be left with any cause for complaint, on [Harpalos’s] account, against the people [of Athens].” This explanation is not at all convincing: What complaint could Alexander have had if the Athenians surrendered his fugitive treasurer and the stolen money to one of his generals? If Philoxenos’s envoys were not good enough, Harpalos could be surrendered to the envoys sent specifically for this purpose by Olympias and Antipater (Alexander’s viceroy in Greece), as the Athenians wanted to do. Yet the decree proposed by Demosthenes kept Harpalos (and the money) under Athenian control. Demosthenes was playing for time. Why? Some of the Athenians thought, at least on later reflection, that Demosthenes wanted to appropriate part of Harpalos’s money. This opinion could be true, especially since ultimately only half of the originally declared sum that Harpalos had brought to Athens appeared: three hundred and fifty talents talents against seven hundred talents. We do not

19. E.g., Badian, “Harpalus,” 42–43; I. Worthington, “The Chronology of the Harpalus Affair,” SO 61 (1986): 66. 20. Dinarch. 1.81 and 82: “when it was reported that Alexander was restoring the exiles and Nicanor came to Olympia, he (i.e., Demosthenes) offered himself to the council as president of the sacred embassy.” 21. Dinarch. 1.68, 70, 89; Hyperid. 5.11; [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846B. 22. Hyperid. 5.8. 23. [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846B. 24. Hyperid. 5.9; cf. Plut. Dem. 25.5–6. 25. Hyperid. 5.10; [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846B (with reference to Philochoros).

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know how much money Harpalos himself gave to influential Athenian politicians, however. Nor do we know when, if ever, Demosthenes received his “commission,” that is, before or after negotiating with Nicanor at Olympia. Although found guilty of taking twenty talents from Harpalos, Demosthenes could have fallen victim to later attacks by his political enemies: the speech of Hyperides against Demosthenes was pronounced about six months after the events took place. There is another possible explanation, quite compatible with the first, as to why Demosthenes refused to surrender Harpalos (and the money) to Philoxenos and proposed putting the man and the money under guard until the return of the Athenian embassy from Olympia. Demosthenes was planning to use Harpalos and the money as a bargain to offset the negative effects of the Exiles Decree on Athens. There is no evidence to support modern opinions that when Harpalos arrived in the summer of 324, Athens was on the brink of rebellion against Alexander. Accusations against Demosthenes were raised only several months after the Harpalos affair. However, although we do not know which of them came to Greece first, we do know that Harpalos and Nicanor arrived at approximately the same time. According to Dinarchos, Demosthenes was elected to lead the sacred embassy after Nicanor had come to Olympia. Harpalos was either already in Athens or about to be admitted into the city. Then quite some time passed from the arrest of Harpalos to the departure of the Athenian “sacred embassy” to Olympia. During this time, decrees concerning Harpalos were initiated by Demosthenes and adopted by the people, such as those to apprehend Harpalos and not to surrender him either to Olympias and Antipater or to Philoxenos. Demosthenes had enough time, therefore, to work out how he could use Harpalos’s detention in Athens in the best interests of the city and to offer himself as the leader of the “sacred embassy.” Were the negotiations between the Athenians and Nicanor successful? Harpalos either escaped from Athens or was ordered by the assembly to leave the city. Curiously, only the first version is usually remembered, probably because Hyperides later accused Demosthenes of purposefully ignoring the fact that control over Harpalos had become loosened, which allowed him to escape. Even if this charge is not true, it still implies that Harpalos left Athens after the return of the “sacred embassy” from Olympia. In whatever way Harpalos left Athens, his departure was connected with the results of negotiations between Demosthenes and Nicanor at Olympia. Nicanor could hardly have allowed the Athenians to free Harpalos, so therefore his escape, which offered an acceptable compromise, is a higher probability. However, the Athenians could have expelled him on their own initiative because Alexander, who was outraged that Harpalos had found refuge at Athens, planned a military campaign against the

26. Hyperid. 5.12, 24. 27. Hyperid. 5.10; Diod. 17.108.8; Plut. Dem. 25.4; Iust. 13.5.9. 28. As already Bosworth, “Alexander,” 857 (without any details). 29. A summary of opinions: Dmitriev, “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” 373–375. 30. Hyperid. 5.18; Badian, “Harpalus,” 43. 31. Dinarch. 1.82 (see n. 20 above). 32. Cf. Hyperid. 5.12; [Plut.] Vita X Orat. 846B and Curt. 10.2.3; Plut. Dem. 25.7; Diod. 17.108.8. 33. P. Cloché, Démosthènes et la fin de la démocratie athénienne (Paris: Payot, 1957), 270; Badian, “Harpalus,” 43; Worthington, “Chronology,” 66–67; Worthington, Commentary, 62; Sealey, Demosthenes, 265; Bosworth, “Alexander,” 857; Habicht, Athens, 32; D. Whitehead, in Hyperides: The Forensic Speeches, with introduction, translation, and commentary by D. Whitehead (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 358; Harding, in The Story of Athens, 167.

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Athenians. Therefore it appears that although Demosthenes managed to get some money out of the incident with Harpalos, he could have lost in the game of politics in the end. The Harpalos affair did not help Athens, and Demosthenes’s diplomacy precluded any possibility of using Harpalos’s money and military force for overt anti-Macedonian activity. Quite predictably, Demosthenes was then accused of having failed, or having been unwilling, to use the Harpalos affair against Macedonia. Yet, and this has always puzzled scholars, Athens managed to retain control over Samos for a year after the Exiles Decree had been published, that is, until after the death of Alexander. The Decree somehow appears to have had no effect on the Athenians’ control of Samos. The probability that the Harpalos affair had something to do with this should not be ruled out. If this idea is correct, then Demosthenes’s diplomacy could actually have worked out well. Summing up, helping to promote anti-Macedonian activities elsewhere in Greece and then abandoning them in favor of good deals with Alexander seems to have been the best policy that Demosthenes could afford himself during these years.

34. FGrH 126 (Ephippos) F 5 = Athenae. 12, p. 538b. See Curt. 10.2.1–7 and Iust. 15.5.7: both chronologically flawed: Dmitriev, “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” 368 and 373. 35. Dinarch. 1.96. 36. R. M. Errington, in Chiron 5 (1975): 51–57 with Errington, Hellenistic World, 2; K. Rosen, in Historia 27 (1978): 33–39; G. Shipley, A History of Samos, 800–188 b.c. (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 165–168; Habicht, Athens, 31–35. 37. Another similar case highlighting Demosthenes’s policy during the reign of Alexander could have been in connection with the revolt of Thebes in 335. Accounts differ as to what extent Athens helped the Thebans (see a brief summary of opinions: Trevett, “Demosthenes,” 199), but they all reflect the active rôle of Demosthenes; cf. (i) Aeschin. 3.238–239: Athens officially refused to support Thebes, but Persian ambassadors left gold with Demosthenes; (ii) Diod. 17.8.5–6: Demosthenes sent “a free gift of weapons” to Thebes and influenced the Athenians to vote in favor of sending military help, but the Athenians “failed to send out their forces, waiting to see how the war would develop”; and (iii) Plut. Alex. 11.3: on Demosthenes’s ideological campaign in support of Thebes’ revolt. Demosthenes would later be accused of not channeling Persian money to Thebes, as he was expected to be doing: Aeschin. 3.239–240; Dinarch. 1.21; Hyper. 5.17.

Appendix 7

alexander’s treatment of individual cities in asia minor

i The conclusion that all Greek cities were subject to Alexander has often been based on evidence that is not relevant to whether the status of these cities was “free” and “autonomous.” Debates about Alexander’s treatment of the Greek cities in Asia Minor have relied on several such instances, which will be examined on the following pages. (1) One of them is Alexander’s gift to Phocion. Aelian and Plutarch each reported, independently, an anecdote that Alexander gave Phocion the opportunity to choose one of four cities in Asia Minor. Although the sources are late and their lists of cities differ, the story itself could well be true. This anecdote has been taken as proof that Alexander treated communities in Asia Minor as his personal property. Some cities during the Hellenistic period were regarded as gifts (dorea) and disposed of according to the will of the king, as, for example, Telmessus in the time of Ptolemy II. But the legal significance of “gifts” has been debated, including a proposal by Ivana Savalli that while royal grants of cities as dorea did not mean the transferral of royal authority over these cities to the beneficiaries, the latter were not merely recipients of money due from these cities but also exercised some sort of political authority over them, which supposedly could vary, depending on several circumstances, such as the status of the beneficiary. 1. See the second part of chapter 2. 2. Plut. Phoc. 18.5: Cios, Gergithus, Mylasa, Elaea; Ael. VH 1.25: Cios, Elaea, Mylasa, Patara (and n. 9 below). A summary of opinions: Bosworth, Conquest, 257–258. 3. As Bickerman, “Alexandre,” 349; Bosworth, Conquest, 257; Th. Corsten, in Inschriften von Kios (Bonn: Habelt, 1985), 31. 4. M. Wörrle, in Chiron 8 (1978): 201–202 (= SEG 28, 1224), and his commentary on pp. 207–212, 216–225. 5. E.g., M. Wörrle, in Chiron 8 (1978): 209 n. 36: “rechtsvergleichende Untersuchung der δωρεά gibt es noch immer nicht,” 224–225; I. Savalli, in Annali della Scuola normale superiore di Pisa, ser. 4, 17 (1987): 135–137.

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Further observations should be added. Persian Kings are also said to have followed a similar practice: one of them, Xerxes or his son, is documented as having presented three (or five, according to other ancient accounts) cities to Themistocles in order to satisfy the latter’s various personal needs. According to Thucydides, Themistocles appears to have been the royal satrap over the territory to which the cities that were “given” to him belonged (ταύτης γὰρ ἦρχε τῆς χώρας). Thucydides could have referred to the territory of the cis-Tauran Asia Minor, which constituted a separate region in first the Persian and then the Seleucid administration. The accounts that we have about this “gift” imply that what Themistocles received was revenue, in the form of tribute from those cities, which was supposed to cover his specific expenses. If these cities were royal property, it was unlikely that the “gift” meant surrendering royal control over them to Themistocles. For example, Pierre Briant insisted that to both the Persians and the Greeks, such royal donations meant the donations of revenues that were due from these cities (or territories) and did not lead to the surrender of royal sovereignty over them. Briant provided a similar interpretation of Alexander’s grant to Phocion. But these could also have been autonomous cities that were obliged to pay tribute to the King. In either case, therefore, what Themistocles received was the city’s tribute: Aelian openly renders this story as Alexander’s desire to offer Phocion the right to appropriate revenues from any of the four cities, and modern translators of Plutarch’s account interpret his words in a similar fashion. Diverting revenues from a city to cover specific expenses, often those of members of royal families (as their “girdle-money”), appears to have been the customary habit of Persian Kings and Egyptian pharaohs. Alexander, therefore, could have been maintaining this tradition after he assumed control over Egypt and Asia. In this way, he was presenting himself as a genuine Persian ruler and making a political statement as well. Then, again, Alexander’s gift to Phocion could also have meant that the tribute previously paid to the King was to be channeled in a different direction as a simple financial transaction. In a similar fashion, the tribute of Aspendus was appropriated by Alexander himself, whereas that of Ephesus went to the sanctuary of Artemis. Alexander’s gift to Phocion, therefore, did not necessarily have to reflect Alexander’s borrowing of eastern royal practices. Irrespective of which of these opinions is right, it follows that a city that, for whatever reason, had to pay tribute to Alexander would have had to pay this tribute to Phocion instead, which had nothing to do with the status

6. Thuc. 1.138.5. This territory: S. Dmitriev, in AJAH, n.s., 2.1 (2003): 40–42. This donation to Themistocles: Plut. Them. 29.7 (with reference to different versions that spoke of either three or five cities) and Athenae. 1, pp. 29f–30a. 7. P. Briant, “Dons de terres et de villes: L’ Asie Mineure dans le contexte achéménide,” RÉA 87 (1985): 56–58. 8. The possibility of this arrangement: Xen. Hellen. 3.4.25: Artaxerxes II’s declaration as delivered to the Greeks by Tithraustes in 395 (see p. 352, n. 5) and Badian, Plataea, 141. Cf. the peace of Nicias: Thuc. 5.18.1–9. 9. Ael. VH 1.25. For Plutarch’s text, see translations by B. Perrin (LCL): “he ordered him to turn over to Phocion the revenues from whichever one of four cities in Asia he might select” and I. Scott-Kilvert (Penguin Classics). 10. Xen. Anab. 1.4.9 and 2.4.27 (the village of the King’s mother); Athenae. 1, p. 30a: Cyrus the Great presented several cities to Pytharchos of Cyzicus. This practice: Briant, “Dons,” 53–72. 11. E.g., Plat. Alcib. 1, 123b–e. 12. Aspendus: Arr. 1.26.2–3 and 1.27.2–4 (see p. 101, n. 202). Ephesus: Arr. 1.17.10.

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of that city, or Alexander’s right to interfere in city affairs. We encounter a similar situation at a later date, when Antiochos II sold what seems to have been revenues of a village to his divorced wife, Laodike. It is true that a “gift” could also refer to the unconditional surrender of a city by a ruler, as happened in the case of Myus, which Philip V then presented to the people of Magnesia. However, in this case, the city became a gift to another city, so that the former lost its status of a city as a result. (2) Another such case is the alleged disappearance, or unification, of local coinage in the Greek cities of Asia Minor during the reign of Alexander. This argument, particularly advanced by Bickermann, implies that all these cities held subject status (or, in Bickermann’s words, did not have “full independence”) at that time. Bickermann contrasted this situation with that under the Persians when, as he said, coin emissions of Greek cities were “abundant.” However, he also spoke of these cities as having been subject to the Persians and, therefore, saw no change in their status after the coming of Alexander. But if the status of Greek cities remained the same under the Persians and under Alexander, it is hard to see what the status of these cities had to do with the allegedly changing patterns of city coinage. It is quite possible that some Greek cities of Asia Minor were deprived of the right to their own coinage, as could also be the case of cities that Alexander took by force. At some not precisely determined point in time, though clearly after (and in connection with) establishing himself as the King of Asia—and with a view on his campaign farther to the east—Alexander set up several royal mints in Asia Minor. They are thought to have totaled seven by the time of his death: Lampsacus, Abydus, Miletus, Magnesia, Sardis, Teos, and Colophon. Although the location of Alexander’s mints in Asia Minor has been agreed upon by almost everybody, the dates suggested for their foundation differ, largely because of the difficulty in interpreting evidence from coins and because Alexander may have continued to exploit royal mints that were already operating in some of these cities under the Kings of Persia. The overall situation regarding city coinage in Asia Minor during the reign of Alexander could be similar to what it was under Persian rule. The very complex problem of sovereignty

13. OGI 225 (254–253) with Bikerman, Institutions, 176–178. Cf. Xen. Anab. 2.4.27 (see n. 10 above). 14. Polyb. 16.24.9; Athenae. 3, p. 78f. 15. Cf., e.g., the measures of Septimius Severus, who deprived Antioch and Byzantium of their status as cities and put them under the control of the Laodiceans and the Perinthians, respectively: Hdn. 3.6.9 and D.C. 75.14.1–3. 16. Bickerman, “Alexandre,” 349–350. 17. E.g., Bickerman, “Alexandre,” 355. 18. E.g., B. Deppert-Lippitz, Die Münzprägung Milets vom vierten bis ersten Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Aarau: Sauerländer, 1984), 51–53, on a possible gap in the coinage of Miletus from c.332 (330?) to 323 b.c. 19. E.g., A. R. Bellinger, Essays on the Coinage of Alexander the Great (New York: American Numismatic Society, 1963), 10–11, 48; M. Thompson, Alexander’s Drachm Mints (New York: American Numismatic Society, 1989–1991), 1:42, 67–68, and 2:39, 64; M. J. Price, The Coinage in the Name of Alexander the Great and Philip Arrhidaeus (Zurich: Swiss Numismatic Society; London: British Museum Press, 1991), 211, 226, 248–249, 255, 264–265, 278, 321; O. Mørkholm, Early Hellenistic Coinage, ed. Ph. Grierson and U. Westermark (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 50; G. Le Rider, Alexander the Great: Coinage, Finances, and Policy, trans. W. E. Higgins (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 2007), 107. 20. Price, Coinage, 320: Colophon and Magnesia, and probably Sardis.

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and local coinage has been hotly debated. Judging by the surviving evidence, a ruler’s dominance over a city did not always undermine the right of that city to have its own coinage. And, while gold coins are said to have been a royal monopoly, royal coinage could coexist with that of a city. Enough evidence exists to prove that Priene and several other Greek cities in Asia Minor had their own coinage in the reign of Alexander. His introduction of standard silver coins of small denomination that coexisted with the coins of individual cities is thought to have come about as a response to practical necessity, and only around 330. While what evidence we have for the coinage of Greek cities during the reign of Alexander is scarce and hardly representative, it is possible to assume that a city’s right to have its coinage was not necessarily directly relevant to the status of that city. Such standard coins do not prove, therefore, that all Greek cities of Asia Minor had subject status in the reign of Alexander. (3) Those who argue for the subject status of Greek cities in Asia Minor under Alexander also refer to numerous legal and political rearrangements effected by him in these cities. The indiscriminate nature of such references makes them look as if they reflect the overall policy of Alexander toward Greek cities. However, both epigraphic and literary sources show, first, that Alexander’s interference was not ubiquitous and, second, that his relations with Greek cities reflected particular circumstances. Alexander’s use of the slogan of demokratia served to counterbalance the threat from Persia. It was, therefore, neglected when the need receded. There is no evidence that he enforced demokratia everywhere. Hegesias remained a tyrant, or an influential nobleman, in Ephesus after the arrival of Alexander’s forces. Ada, a woman of the ruling house in Caria who submitted to Alexander, had the control over Caria (to which she had been otherwise entitled by her origin) restored by him. Similar to Greek cities in mainland Greece and the Aegean, the cities of Asia Minor received differential treatment from

21. E.g., Robert, OMS, 6:135; Martin, Sovereignty and Coinage, 114–131; O. Picard, “Philippe II et le monnayage des cités,” RÉG 103 (1990): 1–15; Chr. Howgego, in NC 150 (1990): 1–25; G. Le Rider, La naissance de la monnaie: Pratiques monétaires de l’Orient ancien (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2001); Ziesmann, Autonomie und Münzprägung, 22–28, who argued for the absence of any direct link between the city’s autonomia and that city’s coinage, and concluded (24) that this whole problem has been brought to life by identifying the modern idea of autonomy with ancient Greek autonomia. 22. Bellinger, Essays, 40, and E. V. Hansen, The Attalids of Pergamon (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1971), 216–220; Martin, Sovereignty and Coinage, 220, 226, 241, respectively. 23. K. L. Regling, Die Münzen von Priene (Berlin: Schoetz, 1927), 4, 26–30, 57 (bronze). It is hard to date such coins precisely; therefore, they received “wide datings” from Regling. There is no doubt, however, that at least some coins such as these appeared during the lifetime of Alexander; see Dmitriev, Government, 337–341. 24. E.g., Erythrae: P. Kinns, “Studies in the Coinage of Ionia: Erythrae, Teos, Lebedus, Colophon, c.400–30 b.c.” (diss., University of Cambridge, 1980), 41 (a “free” city after 332 and for the next three decades), 44–46 (Erythraean coins after the arrival of Alexander, though influenced by royal coinage), 80–84, 87, 125 (a royal mint in Teos, but with a “parallel production” of Tean silver and bronze coins), 243–245 (Lebedus), 315–323 (Colophon); Le Rider, Alexander the Great, 109–110 and 155–156 (on local coinage in Cilicia). 25. E.g., Bellinger, Essays, 58. 26. E.g., Bosworth, “Alexander,” 869. For demokratia designating “popular rule” as opposed to the “rule of one”: Ferrary, Philhellénisme, 163 n. 122. The formula πόλις ἐλευθέρα καὶ δημοκρατουμένη: Milet I 3, 150.84 (treaty with Heraclea by Latmus, c.185–184?) with Herrmann (Milet VI 1, p. 186); Holleaux, Études, 3:153 n. 1; D. J. Geagan, in Hesperia 40 (1971): 104 n. 29, with J. Robert and L. Robert, in Bull.ép. 1972, no. 101. 27. Polyaen. 6.49; Arr. 1.23.7–8; Diod. 17.24.2–3; Strabo 14.2.17, p. C 657.

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Alexander. Arrian, who tells about such rearrangements most explicitly, refers to these cities as subject to the Persians, which means that a change in their political régimes came as part of Alexander’s military campaign against the Persians, and from their supporters among local Greeks. He says that after ordering the overthrow of oligarchies, Alexander also restored “old laws” to these cities. Ephesus, where demokratia replaced the pro-Persian oligarchia, was another such case: Alexander merely acknowledged what was already in place once the oligarchs had left Ephesus (prior to his arrival). Furthermore, our evidence, scarce as it is, allows us to see that Alexander’s approach to the political, administrative, and legal status of the Greek cities of Asia Minor changed over time. The most telling example is offered by two acts of restoration of exiles during Alexander’s dominance over Asia Minor. The first took place immediately after he had freed those cities from Persian rule and then overcame a brief restoration of pro-Persian supporters in some places. The second came in the form of the Exiles Decree issued by Alexander approximately a year before he died. Both restorations of exiles have been considered a reflection of his interference in the internal affairs of Greek cities. But there was a clear difference between them. The first restoration of exiles came as part of a new political arrangement in the aftermath of Alexander’s victorious march to the east, when he changed the political régimes of many cities. However, by 331 Alexander considered Greek cities to have been liberated. After his decisive victory over Darius at Gaugamelae, Alexander proclaimed to the Greeks that all tyrannies were abolished and that the Greeks might live under their own laws. On a political level, “freedom” meant freedom from Persian rule. On the level of individual cities, however, the removal of Darius and the establishment of Alexander’s rule over Persia made the possibility that old political régimes were restored in the Greek cities of Asia Minor at that time very unlikely. This change had probably already happened in the late 330s, either after the battle of Issus (332) or with the proclamation of Alexander’s kingship over Asia in 331, after the battle of Gaugamelae. In the second restoration of exiles, Greek cities were expected to use their own laws, which explains why the restoration of exiles could take different forms. (4) Finally, the fact that, following Alexander’s death, the division of the empire among the Successors did not make a special provision for Greek cities cannot by itself argue for the subject status of all Greek cities. The division of territories as a political act had nothing to do with the legal status of those individual cities that lay within these territories. Alexander neither established treaties with Greek cities nor made reciprocal oaths with them (this practice

28. E.g., [Dem.] 17.7. 29. Oligarchies: Arr. 1.17.1–2. Ephesus: Arr. 1.17.10. 30. Plut. Alex. 34.2. 31. See Raaflaub, “Freedom in the Ancient World,” 610. 32. This change in Alexander’s attitude: U. Wilcken, Alexander the Great, trans. G. C. Richards (New York: Norton, 1967), 106–107, with reference to Arr. 2.14.4–9: Alexander’s request that Darius address Alexander as King of Asia. 33. E. Fredricksmeyer, in TAPA 127 (1997): 97–107: after the battle of Gaugamelae; E. Fredricksmeyer, in Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction: A Symposium Held at the University of Newcastle (NSW, Australia) July 1997, ed. A. B. Bosworth and E. J. Baynham (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 136–166, on the proclamation of Alexander’s kingship over Asia (331) and on distinction between the titles “King of Asia” and “King of Persia.” 34. See Dmitriev, “Alexander’s Exiles Decree,” 375–377. 35. Diod. 18.3.1–3; Phot. Bibl. 82, 64.a21–b32; Badian, “Alexander,” 61.

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would develop only after his death), but not because of their subject status. Such steps would have put him on equal footing with the Greek cities. The Great King was not supposed to establish equal treaties with anybody. Likewise, the surviving correspondence makes no mention of his having a clearly defined “stance” (hairesis or proairesis) toward Greek cities: the use of these words would have implied some sort of obligation. The absence of treaties between Alexander and Greek cities certainly does not mean that all Greek cities were in the same position, that is, subject to Alexander. Some Greek cities in Asia Minor would later claim special treatment from the Hellenistic rulers, with the various rights and privileges that these cities had enjoyed in the time of Alexander. However, because Alexander made no such treaties with Greek cities, and because many more inscriptions from Greek cities refer to relations with the Successors than with Alexander, we are left to believe that it was the Successors who laid the foundation for relations between Hellenistic rulers and the individual Greek cities of Asia Minor.

36. Bickerman, “Alexandre,” 360–362. 37. See, e.g., pp. 97, nn. 75–76; 101, nn. 198–200; 105, nn. 225–227. 38. On Antigonus as the father of this policy: Billows, Antigonos, 189. The policy of the Successors: chapter 2.

Appendix 8

the expeditions of heracleides and dicaearchos

i Philip V is thought to have offered support to the Cretans in their war against Rhodes. This war, which has been known as the Cretan war, is generally thought to have started in 204 or 205 or, according to a more recent opinion, 206. At some point during this war, Philip provided the Aetolian Dicaearchos with a fleet against the Rhodians. Philip also sent a certain Heracleides of Tarentum on a secret mission to Rhodes at some unspecified date, but clearly before 202–201 when open hostilities between Philip and Rhodes had broken out. Heracleides pretended that he had broken with Philip and even showed the Rhodians what he claimed were Philip’s letters, in which the king plotted against the Rhodians, who were formally his allies at that time. Heracleides apparently managed to convince the Rhodians and even received certain privileges from them. As soon as the dust settled down, he set the Rhodian dockyards and arsenal on fire. After destroying thirteen ships in this way, he escaped back to his master.

1. For 206: Gabrielsen, “Economic Activity,” 229. For 205: H. van Effenterre, La Crète et le monde grec de Platon à Polybe (Paris: De Boccard, 1948), 221; Holleaux, Études, 4:139 n. 1, 165 n. 4; König, “Bund,” 35; P. Brulé, La piraterie crétoise hellénistique (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1978), 44; Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 248; S. Kreuter, “Die Beziehungen zwischen Rom und Kreta vom Beginn des zweiten Jahrhundert v.Chr. bis zur Einrichtung der Römischen Provinz,” in Rom und der Griechische Osten: Festschrift für H. H. Schmitt zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Ch. Schubert and K. Brodersen (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1995), 140. For 205–204: Bengtson, Geschichte, 425. For 204: Hiller von Gaertringen, “Rhodos,” 787; Bickerman, “Les préliminaires,” 162; Griffith, “Imperialism,” 4; Sippel, “Rhodes,” 19; Rawlings III, “Antiochus,” 18; Errington, Hellenistic World, 192. 2. Syll. 567–570; Diod. 27.3, 28.1; Polyb. 18.54.8–12. Gelder, Geschichte, 121; Sippel, “Rhodes,” 14–15. 3. Polyb. 13.4–5; Polyaen. 5.17.2; Wiemer, Traditionen, 64–67. The open conflict between Rhodes and Philip: Polyb. 15.23.6; Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 252–254.

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Philip’s sudden push into the Aegean has been explained by the fact that the ongoing Cretan war gave him the “chance of a cheap intervention.” This explanation, however, leaves questions about the reasons for Philip’s intervention unanswered. The opinion about the date and reason for Philip’s advance into the Aegean largely depends on when the Cretan war took place. The precise chronological limits of this war are hard to establish, however. As we have seen above, the datings of its beginning differ within the period from 206 to 204. The date of its end has also been debated. The Rhodian victory in this war has generally been connected with the treaty between Rhodes and Hierapytna, which is traditionally dated to about 201–200. But the suggested datings of this treaty, and of the end of the Cretan war, are approximations. In his recent examination of the treaty between Rhodes and Hierapytna, Pierre Brulé opted for 205–204. Although he provided quite a convincing argument against what had been an authoritative dating up until then, the date that he offered instead is based on indirect evidence and can hardly be accepted without proof. Establishing the date of this treaty, however, appears to be of little importance to the present discussion because, even according to Brulé, the Cretan war continued after Rhodes and Hierapytna drew a separate deal. When did it end? Brulé connected the end of the war with the decrees of several Cretan cities confirming the grant of inviolability (asylia) to Teos by Antiochos III (the Great). Earlier this grant had been dated to the very end of the third century. But Peter Herrmann, who published the inscription bearing Antiochos’s grant of asylia to Teos, has established its date as 204–203. Brulé thus tentatively put the end of the Cretan war at 204–203. However, Herrmann left open the possibility of 202 as being the date of Antiochos’s grant of asylia to Teos. The confirmation from Cretan cities could have followed the grant by Antiochos even after some interval: decrees acknowledging the asylia of Teos by the Aetolians and Delphi have been dated to 205–201, with those by Cretan cities to c.200. The date of 204–203 remains, therefore, only one of several options for the end of the Cretan war. 4. Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 252–254, with Errington, Hellenistic World, 192 (the Cretan war started “at a time when Philip was in any case on the lookout for new opportunities”); Sippel, “Rhodes,” 19, 21–22. 5. Syll. 581 = Staatsverträge 3, no. 551 = IC III (Hierapytna), 3A with datings ad hoc. See also Effenterre, La Crète, 222; Brulé, La piraterie, 51; Souza, Piracy, 82; Kreuter, “Beziehungen,” 140. 6. Brulé, La piraterie, 51–56, followed by Pohl, Piraterie, 131. Earlier bibliography: Bengtson, Geschichte, 425. 7. Brulé, La piraterie, 53–54. 8. E.g., Holleaux, Études, 4:193–196 (201). 9. Herrmann, “Antiochos,” 93–97 = SEG 41, 1003.I.18, 47–48; A. Giovannini, in MH 40 (1983): 181–184; R. E. Allen, The Attalid Kingdom: A Constitutional History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), 47–52; Rigsby, Asylia, 281, and most of the rest. Pace Piejko, “Antiochus,” 14: 197–196, i.e., as Antiochos advanced on the Attalids; S. Şahin, “Piratenüberfall auf Teos: Volksbeschluß über die Finanzierung der Erpressungsgelder,” EA 23 (1994): 13, 35. 10. Brulé, La piraterie, 40 and 41: 204–203 (with a question mark), 51. 11. Herrmann, “Antiochos,” 96–97; Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 252. 12. Teos Inscriptions, ed. D. F. McCabe and M. A. Plunkett (Princeton, N.J.: Institute for Advanced Studies, 1985) nos. 1–2 and 3–15, respectively. See Holleaux, Études 4:195 n. 1 (c.200); Rawlings III, “Antiochus,” 18–19 (190s). 13. Şahin, “Piratenüberfall,” 35, dated the Cretan war to 205–204 by following Brulé. But Brulé thought that the Cretan war continued even after the separate deal between Hierapytna and Teos in 205–204 and tentatively put the end of the war in 204–203. Nor was he certain about the date of Dicaearchos’s expedition. Furthermore, Brulé suggested the latter dating on the basis of Antiochos’s grant of asylia to Teos, which he dated after Herrmann to 204–203, whereas Şahin dated this grant following Piejko, to 197–196. See also Wiemer, Krieg, 172 (before 201).

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In practical terms, all this means that the expedition of Dicaearchos, and most probably the mission of Heracleides, could have taken place any time before 203, or maybe even after that year, since the Cretan war could have lasted past 203. Bengtson, Effenterre, Gelder, Holleaux, Benecke, Will, and (hesitantly) Brulé have been inclined to date the expedition of Dicaearchos to 205 simply because, among other things, they dated the beginning of the Cretan war to that year. The grounds of this dating are very shaky, however. The expedition of Dicaearchos did not have to take place at the very beginning of the Cretan war, and the war could have continued after 204. Therefore, others have dated the expedition of Dicaearchos to late 204 or early 203, or even to 202. It seems impossible to establish the precise dating for this expedition. On the one hand, Diodoros spoke of Dicaearchos’s expedition before referring to Philip’s campaign against the Dardanians (205–204). The latter reference was added, however, to round out a description of Philip’s personal qualities; therefore, one would hardly expect chronological coherence in this case. On the other hand, later in the text, Diodoros allegedly connected the story about Dicaearchos’s expedition with what has been interpreted as a reference to Hannibal’s return to Africa, which is dated to 203–202. The connection is far from obvious, however, especially with respect to the chronological proximity of the two events. Holleaux, followed by some, advanced the idea that the purpose of Dicaearchos’s expedition was to collect money for the construction of Philip’s fleet. The building of Philip’s fleet is said to have been completed in 202 and therefore, was probably started not long before. But Philip appointed Dicaearchos the “commander of all his fleet,” saying only that the task entrusted by Philip to Dicaearchos was to attack the Cyclades and the cities of the Hellespont. In short, the expedition of Dicaearchos could have taken place any time during the Cretan war. The date of Heracleides’s mission is similarly uncertain: the date of 205 (or 204), although suggested by Holleaux and Brulé and accepted (or not contested) by everybody else, has hardly been established once and for all. The accounts by Polybios and Polyaenos refer to the mission of Heracleides as having taken place sometime before the open conflict between Philip and Rhodes broke out in 202-201. Other than that, there is no direct indication about the

14. Cf. H. Benecke, “Die Seepolitik der Aitoler” (diss., Hamburg: Kleinert, 1934), 41–42, on Dicaearchos as in the service of Ptolemy Epiphanes “from 203.” But Polyb. 18.54.6–11 offers no proof for this statement. 15. 205: Bengtson, Geschichte, 425; Effenterre, La Crète, 221; Gelder, Geschichte, 121; Holleaux, Études, 4:125, 139 n. 1; P. Ducrey, Le traitement des prisonniers de guerre dans la Grèce antique des origines à la conquête romaine (Paris: De Boccard, 1999), 182; Benecke, “Seepolitik,” 41; Will, Histoire, 2:89–90; Brulé, La piraterie, 44, 134 (with reservations), followed (without reservations) by Şahin, “Piratenüberfall,” 35, and Souza, Piracy, 82. 16. 204 or early 203: Griffith, “Imperialism,” 4, 7; Walbank, Philip V, 110; Walbank, Papers, 55; Sippel, “Rhodes,” 19; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 384 (204–201); Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 248; Pohl, Piraterie, 109; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 193. 203–202: Petzold, Eröffnung, 31–32. 202: Niese, Geschichte, 2:581; König, “Bund,” 36–37; Geyer, “Philippos V.,” 2313. 17. Diod. 28.1, 10; see König, “Bund,” 36–37, who thus put Dicaearchos’s expedition in 202. 18. Holleaux, Rome, 285 n. 5, 287 n. 2; Griffith, “Imperialism,” 8; Walbank, Philip V, 112; Sippel, “Rhodes,” 23. See also Souza, Piracy, 82, and Niese, Geschichte, 2:583: Philip’s fleet was built by 201. 19. Polyb. 18.54.8. 20. Cf. König, “Bund,” 36. 21. Holleaux, Études, 4:138–139; Brulé, La piraterie, 45. 22. Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 252.

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timing of the affair. For example, Holleaux put it in 205 simply because this was his date for the beginning of the Cretan war, whereas Walbank proposed that Heracleides’s affair could have taken place in 203. Nothing prevents us from dating the expedition of Dicaearchos, and the mission of Heracleides, to 204–203, as has been the majority opinion. If the Cretan war started in 205 (or 206), the explanation for why Philip sent Dicaearchos against the Rhodians in 204 or 203, or even later, should be sought elsewhere. It seems logical to connect Philip’s sudden push into the Aegean, which included the missions of Dicaearchos and Heracleides, with the death of Ptolemy Philopator (probably in late summer or autumn of 204) and Philip’s desire to appropriate Ptolemaic possessions in the Aegean, using the fact that Ptolemy Epiphanes was too young to offer effective resistance. It is still unclear, however, if Philip instigated the Cretan war or if he simply reinvigorated it because of the death of the Egyptian king. The former opinion has been indirectly supported by those who disconnected Philip’s activity in the Aegean from the death of Philopator.

23. See Polyb. 13.4.1–2. Walbank, Philip V, 111. Cf. Diodoros’s Library 28.2, 9: Heracleides’s mission paralleled the expedition of Dicaearchos; so also Mommsen, Geschichte, 1:697–698; Petzold, Eröffnung, 31–32. 24. Griffith, “Imperialism,” 4; Bengtson, Geschichte, 425; Herrmann, “Antiochos,” 96; Will, Histoire, 2:92–96; Errington, “Rome against Philip and Antiochus,” 251; Habicht, Athens, 196; W. Ameling, “Ptolemaios IV. Philopator” and “Ptolemaios V. Epiphanes,” in NPauly 10 (2001): 539; Badian, “Philippos V.,” 804; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 125, 142. 25. App. Mac. 4.1. This idea: Mommsen, Geschichte, 1:696; Petzold, Eröffnung, 32; Magie, “Agreement,” 34–35 (who dated Philopator’s death to late 205); Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 251–252; H. Heinen, “Die politische Beziehungen zwischen Rom und dem Ptolemäerreich von ihren Anfängen bis zum Tag von Eleusis (273–168 v.Chr.),” in ANRW I 1 (1972): 643 (who was uncertain as to how far this agreement could have gone); Badian, “Philippos V.,” 804; Eckstein, Rome Enters the Greek East, 118, 129–131, 178–179, 182. 26. As Magie, “Agreement,” 35; Hiller von Gaertringen, “Rhodos,” 78. 27. E.g., Gelder, Geschichte, 121 (who dated the beginning of Dicaearchos’s expedition to immediately after the “peace of Phoenice,” which he put in either 205 or 204); Niese, Geschichte, 2:582; Petzold, Eröffnung, 31; Will, Histoire, 2:89–90; Walbank, Philip V, 112.

Appendix 9

fides and (roman and foreign) clientelae

i While the fundamental understanding of fides has always remained the same (“confidence,” “faith,” “trust”), its particular meanings and applications could differ depending on individual situations. The majority opinion has been, however, that the status of dediticii, that is, those who surrendered to the fides of the Roman people, was similar to that of clients. The latter are thought to have been under the protection of their patrons, which they received in return for their loyalty and service. A still classic definition has been offered by Ernst Badian: “The client may be described as an inferior entrusted, by custom or by himsef, to the protection of a stranger more powerful than he, by rendering certain services and observances in return for this protection,” so that “the various classes of clientela are united by the fact that they comprise relationships admittedly between superior and inferior.” We also know, however, of cases where the dediticii received cruel treatment from the Romans, which makes this general identification of dediticii with clients questionable. Fides was, of course, a necessary component of the Roman clientela. What is important to make absolutely clear, however, is that fides alone did not constitute the totality of the

1. See chapter 7. 2. E.g., Fraenkel, “Geschichte,” 198; Badian, Clientelae, 1; Lombardi, “Bona fides,” 4–5, 15–16. 3. E.g., B. Paradisi, in Studi di storia e diritto in onore di A. Solmi (Milan: Giuffrè, 1941), 1:291–293; Piganiol, “Venire in fidem,” 346; Imbert, “Fides,” 347–348; Heurgon, Rome, 193; Muylle, “Traité,” 408–409; I. E. M. Edlund, in Klio 59 (1977): 135–136; Valvo, “Istituti,” 169; Bernhardt, Rom, 25; Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman Republic, 33–34. 4. Badian, Clientelae, 1, 11. Cf. J.-M. David, Le patronat judiciaire au dernier siècle de la république romaine (Rome: École française de Rome, 1992), 50: “le patronus, défenseur de son client.” 5. The Ligurians: Liv. 42.8.1–6; the Lusitanians: Cic. Brut. 89; Liv. per. 49, with p. 260, n. 194.

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client-patron relationship. On the one hand, “(dis)loyalty” and “(un)faithfulness” are, first and foremost, qualities of clients: as Peter Brunt has noted, the “patron is never said to be ‘in fide clientis.’” Hence, fides, as an unconditional pledge of loyalty, came only from the one who surrendered himself. We see fides clientum in Plautus early in the second century b.c., or fidos domino clientes in Statius at the end of the first century a.d. Sallust speculated that Piso was killed by Pompey’s clients, who remained loyal to their patron; Valerius Maximus referred to L. Villius Annalis, who died during the proscriptions of 42 b.c. and failed to be saved by his client’s loyalty; and, at a later date, Fronto compared clients to loyal freedmen. On the other hand, to surrender to someone’s fides was the same as to entrust oneself to that person or, in other words, to put oneself in that person’s trust, as both Terence (early second century b.c.) and Ampelius (fourth century a.d.) confirm. This does not mean, however, that the trust (fides) of the one who thus surrendered himself was automatically going to be reciprocated. The patron-client relationship included, therefore, not only the trust (fides) of the inferior partner but also the offer of protection (patrocinium) by the senior partner. In this sense, Cicero referred to the “protection of province” (patrocinium provinciae) and the “protection of peace” (patrocinium pacis), whereas Apuleius spoke of heaven’s “protection,” which came in return for “innocence and loyalty” (fides). Hence, the relations between patron and client were defined as clientela et fides: for example, Terence’s Thaïs pledged her submission and trust (in clientelam et fidem) to the father of Chaereas, and Cicero referred to his contemporaries who did exactly the same. Only by extending patrocinium to the one who had entrusted himself to one did the latter person become his patron, thus establishing an agreement between the two that implied mutual obligations, as we see in the Law of the Twelve Tables. There was no contradiction between the meaning of fides as complete, or unconditional, trust and patrocinium, the protection that clients and wards received from their patrons and guardians, respectively: once fides was accepted and reciprocated, an agreement was established, and the one who had surrendered himself to someone else’s fides was expected to receive protection from the latter person.

6. Pace J. Imbert, “De la sociologie au droit: La ‘Fides’ romaine,” in Droits de l’antiquité et sociologie juridique: Mélanges H. Lévy-Bruhl (Paris: Sirey, 1959), 407–409; Brunt, “Clientela,” 385; David, Le patronat, 57, who limited his research only to the “patronat judiciaire”; Hölkeskamp, “Fides,” 112, 115–117; Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman Republic, 34. 7. E.g., Sall. Iug. 71.5 and further examples in nn. 9–11 below. 8. Brunt, “Clientela,” 406. See, e.g., Fraenkel, “Geschichte,” 194–196; Freyburger, Étude, 153–154, on the fides of clients to patrons. Cf. Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman Republic, 34: a holder of imperium accepted the vanquished “into his fides by the formal act of deditio.” 9. Plaut. Menaech. 576; Stat. Silv. 3.3.110. 10. Sall. Cat. 19.5; Val. Max. 9.11.6; Front. Ad verum imp. 2.7.2. 11. Ter. Eunuch. 886; Ampel. Lib. mem. 49.3. Cf. The Oxford Latin Dictionary, ed. P. G. W. Glare (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982), s.v. fides: (1) “the condition of having trust placed in one, trust, tutelage.” 12. Cic. Scaur. 26 and Cic. Philip. 7.3; Apul. Metam. 11.16.9. 13. Ter. Eunuch. 1039; e.g., Cic. Rosc.Amer. 93: in cuius fide sint et clientela, 107. 14. FIRA I, no. 7, 8.21. Imbert, “Fides,” 352, 354; David, Le patronat, 83–89, on the diligentia of patronus. 15. Pace Imbert, “Sociologie,” 407–408, 411–412, who attempted to explain this resulting protection by the social context of such relations. It is true, of course, that surrendering to someone else’s trust, or mercy, was not defined by itself in legal terms; or, in other words, this act alone did not establish any legal relationship between the two sides. But then the question is what it was in such cases that guaranteed protection to a client or a ward. Protection implied reciprocity and some sort of agreement

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In one of the two well-known Roman definitions of fides, Cicero interpreted this word as unquestionably “good faith,” which implied a moral obligation. As “truth and fidelity to promises and agreements,” fides was the foundation of “justice” (iustitia). The violation of one’s oath was the violation of fides. In Cicero’s words, an oath was the best way to guarantee fides. He also referred to treaties in which fides was pledged “even to the enemy.” Two centuries later, Aulus Gellius, while trying to establish the hierarchy of obligations (de gradu atque ordine officiorum), came up with the following observations, which were clearly based on earlier texts and also reflected the opinion of Gellius’s contemporaries: “[I]n accordance with the usage of the Roman people (ex moribus populi Romani) the place next after parents should be held by wards entrusted to our faith and guardianship (fidei tutelaeque); that second to them came clients, who also committed themselves to our faith and protection (in fidem patrociniumque); that then in the third place guests; and finally relations by blood and by marriage.” Cicero’s fides as “good faith” existed only within the framework of agreements and obligations (whether written or oral, such as oaths), whereas for Gellius only fides tutelaque or fides patrociniumque constituted obligations. Not surprisingly, bonae fidei iudicia consisted only of agreements that were based on mutual obligations, including tutelae. Both authors thus drew the same conclusion in two different ways: the fides of the one who surrendered himself to someone else did not by itself constitute an agreement between the two parties. A particular understanding of fides depended, therefore, on the situation in which fides was used or, more precisely, whether or not the two sides had an agreement of some sort between themselves. Because in surrendering to someone else’s power, fides did not, by itself, establish any sort of agreement—and, therefore, did not result in any obligations to the dediticius— neither Cicero nor Gellius mentioned deditio to the fides of the Roman people. The reason they passed over such cases is simple: a deditio in fidem only meant that the dediticii “entrusted” themselves to the Romans. Since the relations between the Romans and the dediticii were not determined by either law or custom, the Romans had no moral, much less legal, obligations to the dediticii and could treat them as they pleased. Fides thus designated the “trust” of the dediticii in Roman discretion to decide their fate, without implying any commitment from the Roman side. This fides could not be “broken” by the Romans because it did not constitute any sort of agreement between the Romans and the dediticii. Only after the act of deditio in fidem took place did the Romans determine the status of the dediticii by establishing some sort of relations with them. Here, too, the Roman attitude was far from certain because deditio could result in several options: from enslaving the dediticii to giving them amicitia or establishing a treaty with them.

between the two sides, for which an “habitual social behavior” was simply not enough. Not surprisingly, when discussing protection that came in return for fides, Imbert himself mentions such agreements, including the Law of XII Tables, the Institutes, and the Digest. 16. Cic. De Off. 1.23: fundamentum autem est iustitiae fides, id est dictorum conventorumque constantia et veritas. 17. Cic. De Off. 3.104: qui ius igitur iurandum violat, is fidem violat. 18. Cic. De Off. 3.111; Gell. 5.13.1–2; Gaius 4.62. 19. See also Mommsen, “Clientel,” 363. 20. Cf. M. Gelzer, The Roman Nobility, trans. R. Seager (Oxford: Blackwell, 1969), 62–69, incl. 65–66: “the nature of fides is revealed in passages where it is combined with other concepts: patrocinium, clientela, praesidium, amicitia, hospitium.” The use of fides with each of these words indicated a special case, however, that reflected this or that form of reciprocal obligations. 21. Esp. Badian, “Deditio,” 361 (see p. 260, n. 191).

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Therefore, Livy’s words about the Roman patrocinium over Greek cities after the Roman defeat of Antiochos probably reflected the changing attitudes of the Romans, who now indeed regarded the Greeks as their clients. As patrons of the Greeks, the Romans now offered them patrocinium. This same system was extended elsewhere as well. In Florus’s words, the Numidian kingdom was in the “trust and protection” (fide et clientela) of the senate and the people of Rome by the time of the Jugurthine war. In the forties, Cicero no longer labeled Roman rule as imperium, but as patrocinium, because, in his words, Roman magistrates and generals (magistratus imperatoresque) strove to defend provinces and allies with justice and loyalty (aequitate et fide). He was obviously referring to those territories and people that had established relations with Rome: aequitas implied the presence of some sort of mutual agreement, and we also know that ius est ars aequi et boni, according to the famous phrase of Celsus. The patron-client relationship could also be established as a private mutual agreement on the basis of some legal enactment. In one such case, the Spaniards as allies (socii) complained to the senate about the avarice and arrogance of Roman magistrates (de magistratuum Romanorum avaritia superbiaque), and a senatus consultum was issued (171) that gave the Spaniards an opportunity to choose whomever they wished as advocates (“patrons”). The senatus consultum served as the legal basis of the relationship between the clients and patrons. Surely the understanding was that the chosen persons would agree to act as advocates for the Spaniards. A couple of decades later, the lex repetundarum, which made provisions for selecting patrons for those people who wished to prosecute under this law but could not be heard in court because of their non-citizen status, gave such clients an opportunity to repudiate their patrons, but only because their relations with clients had to be established on the basis of this law. Cicero’s vision of Roman rule as patrocinium was probably derived, at least in part, from numerous individual cases of patronage over foreign communities, such as those that we see in a series of inscriptions from approximately the same time. Here, too, the relationship was based on reciprocal obligations: once a community asked someone for patronage and this person agreed, he extended to this community his “allegiance and protection” (fidem clientelamque), thus turning himself into its patron. A hundred years later, Pliny the Younger described how the envoys from the province of Baetica complained about

22. Liv. 34.58.11 (193 b.c.) and 37.54.17 reproducing the speech of the Rhodian ambassadors to the senate (hoc patrocinium receptae in fidem et clientelam vestram universae gentis perpetuum vos praestare decet), but reflecting, first and foremost, the Roman understanding of what constituted the clientela (188 b.c.). More detail: chapter 7. 23. Flor. 1.36.3: quorum in fide et clientela regnum erat. 24. Cic. De Off. 2.27: itaque illud patrocinium orbis terra verius quam imperium poterat nominari. 25. Anonym., Dig. 1.1.1.1. 26. Liv. 43.2.3 and 4: vocatis in curiam legatis recitatum est senatus consultum, iussique nominare patronos. 27. Roman Statutes, ed. M. Crawford et al. (London: Institute of Classical Studies; University of London, 1996), p. 66, no. 1, ll.11–12, incl. l.11: eum que[i e]x h(ace) l(ege) patronus datus erit (the Lex repetundarum, c. middle or late second century b.c.?). This and other such evidence has been discussed by Gelzer (Nobility, 63–65, 70–86) as “patronage in the courts,” which implied a commitment on both sides. 28. ILS 6093–6115, incl., e.g., 6098.4–7 and 8–10 (a.d. 6) and 6100.4–11 (a.d. 27). See, in general, J. Nicols, in ANRW II 13 (1980): 535–561 on the period from 50 b.c. to a.d. 250.

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their former governor before the senate and asked that Pliny be appointed their advocate. The senate adopted such a decision, provided Pliny agreed. Then Pliny said the following: “They begged for my loyalty (implorantes fidem meam), which they experienced when I was their counsel against Baebius, and alleged their claim upon me by referring to the agreement of patronage (adlegantes patrocinii foedus).” A patron’s fides could only be begged for, and only when the agreement of patrocinium existed. It was the combination of the decision of the senate and Pliny’s own consent that constituted such an agreement in this case. Because the establishment of a patron-client relationship implied not only the surrender of the inferior but also the agreement of the superior to extend his patrocinium in return for loyalty, the question arises about when foreign clientelae came into being. If we follow a broad definition of clientela, such as “relationships between superior and inferior,” then the origin of foreign clientelae should indeed be dated to the moment when Rome began spreading her power outside of Italy, that is, the First Punic war—and this is where Badian’s famous investigation began. From this point of view, the status of Sicilian cities, the Illyrian wars, the relationship between Saguntum and Rome, and the Roman-Aetolian treaty—all represented different aspects of the extension of Rome’s foreign clientela. But if we avoid such a broad definition of clientela, Rome did not necessarily take on obligations with respect to the status and privileges of those communities that had surrendered to her fides. The Romans only offered their “protection” to these communities against third parties. We can hardly consider this “protection” by itself a valid proof of the existence of patron-client relations—if Rome chose to “defend” the dediticii against some other power, this was only to safeguard Roman interests. It provided no guarantees to the dediticii against Rome herself. The Romans thus used deditio in fidem to promote their own political interests by claiming to protect the dediticii against third parties, that is, in the same way various Greek political powers had used the slogan of freedom both before and after the coming of the Romans.

29. Plin. Ep. 3.4.4: ut darer provincialibus patronus, se ab ipso me impetrassent. 30. A similar case of the patrocinium of a province in Cic. Scaur. 26 (see n. 12 above). 31. David, Le patronat, 68; T. Cornell, “Cliens,” in OCD, 348. Harmand, Le patronat, 34–39, distinguished this form of relationship as only one of several ways of “acquisition de patronat.” But the extension of patronage was, of course, not the same as a receptio of surrender to fides. 32. As Badian, Clientelae, 11 (see n. 4 above). Cf. Brunt, “Clientela,” 383 (“relations of dependence”) and 387 (on “clientship in the strict sense”). 33. Badian, Clientelae, 39–40, 43–47, and 49–50, respectively. Saguntum: Polyb. 3.14.9–10, 3.20.5–6, 3.30.1 (the Saguntines had placed themselves in Roman trust: εἰς τὴν τῶν Ῥωμαίων πίστιν, but the Romans had no obligations to Saguntum). Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 212, on the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 189 as “Klientelvertrag.” 34. The criticism of Badian’s theory, by those who wished to see amicitia where Badian saw clientela, seems to have passed over Badian’s broad definition of clientela: e.g., P. J. Burton, in Klio 85 (2003): 333–369. 35. Pace Harmand, Le patronat, 27–33, who distinguished “the patronage over a city, consequence of a mission of civil or military character” as one of the “ways of acquiring patronage”; Dahlheim, “Deditio,” 279–280. 36. For Rome turning the dediticii into “allies” and assuming their protection against other powers, see chapter 7. 37. Esp. Harris, War, 34–35, 189–190.

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Marcellus’s relations with Syracuse have been considered the earliest case of Roman “patronage by conquest” over a Greek community (and the “classic example” of deditio in fidem), or maybe even the earliest case of Roman patronage in general, if the Samnite clientela of C. Fabricius Luscinus was a later invention, as some have thought. Several ancient texts speak of Marcellus’s relations with the Syracusans. Livy’s evidence, which has been the basis for the examination of this problem, consists of two references. The first deals with the embassy of the Syracusans to Marcellus in 212, at a time when a part of the city had already been taken by the Romans and the rest of its citizens preferred to negotiate their surrender. According to Livy, one of the Syracusan ambassadors, while trying to protect his city, spoke to Marcellus as follows: “Hand down Syracuse unscathed to your family to be kept in the clientela and protection (sub clientela tutelaque) of the name of the Marcelli.” The reliability of such evidence, which was clearly based on Livy’s knowledge about this family’s patronage of the Sicilians, has been rightly doubted. These doubts have been strengthened because, after some time, the Syracusans accused Marcellus of harsh treatment and requested the restoration of the property they lost when he captured their city. The senators, however, approved of whatever Marcellus had done to Syracuse, and when the decree of the senate was read, the Syracusan envoys “threw themselves at Marcellus’ feet, begging him to forgive the complaints they had made in trying to mitigate their calamity, and asked that he accept them and their city Syracuse in his fides and clientela. Having been confirmed by the senate decree, he spoke to them kindly and let them go.” On neither of the two occasions does Livy say that Marcellus became the patron of Syracuse. If the Syracusans made him another offer, this would mean that he had not accepted the first one (or that it was not made at all). Since Livy offers no details, there is every reason to believe that Marcellus did not become patron of Syracuse after the second offer either, if such an offer was ever made. It has recently been argued that here, too, “patronage has been imported into a context where it did not originally appear.” Livy’s reference to the Syracusans allegedly begging Marcellus to accept them in fidem et clientelam is certainly reminiscent of the same formula being actively used in the establishment of patron-client relations between the Romans and various communities in Livy’s own time, as we have seen above. Such agreements

38. Mommsen, “Clientel,” 361 n. 10 (who, however, quite appropriately spoke of “the patronage of the Marcelli over Syracuse and other Sicilian cities”); E. Albertini, in Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 24 (1904): 252; Harmand, Le patronat, 14; Badian, Clientelae, 7, 157; David, Le patronat, 74; Rawson, Roman Culture and Society, 107 n. 28; Canali De Rossi, Le ambascerie, 645; C. F. Eilers, Roman Patrons of Greek Cities (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 51: “the locus classicus of patronage by conquest.” 39. G. Forni, in Athenaeum, n.s., 31 (1953): 177–178; Badian, Clientelae, 7, 157; J. Bleicken, review of Badian, Clientelae, Gnomon 36 (1964): 183–184; Gruen, Hellenistic World, 163. Eilers, Patrons, 57–58, argued that M.’ Curius Dentatus (cos. 290) had the Samnites as his clients. Even if this was the earliest example of Roman “patronage by conquest,” it is irrelevant to this investigation, which is concerned with Greek communities. 40. Liv. 25.29.6. 41. Eilers, Patrons, 52. The Marcelli as the patrons of the Sicilians: Cic. Verr. 2.3.45, 2.4.89–90; Ps.-Ascon. 187 (Stangl.). But M. Claudius Marcellus is never referred to as the patron of Syracuse (and Mommsen rightly spoke in general terms; see n. 38 above). 42. Liv. 26.32.7–8. Cf. Val. Max. 4.1.7: et orantes ut ab eo in clientelam reciperentur clementer excepit. 43. Pace Gruen, Hellenistic World, 163: in 210, Marcellus accepted Syracuse in fidem clientelamque. 44. Eilers, Patrons, 54, and 53–56 in general. 45. Liv. 26.32.8 (see n. 42 above). Cf. ILS 6093–6115 (see n. 28 above).

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required the voluntary consent of both parties and had nothing to do with “patronage by conquest.” Nor did the alleged appeal of the Syracusans for Marcellus’s fides clientelaque, which Livy put in 210, have any connection with their surrender (sub clientela tutelaque nominis Marcellorum, according to Livy) in 212. Another interesting detail about the Syracusan embassy to Rome in 210, which does not seem to have received any noticeable attention so far, is that the Syracusans complained of harsh treatment and loss of property against Marcellus before the senate, which would be out of place if the city had been taken by force or surrendered to the mercy (in fidem) of the Romans. The Syracusans probably had some justifications to have filed such a complaint. Plutarch’s text helps us to clarify the matter. According to his Life of Marcellus, in 210, the Syracusans came to Rome to complain of terrible acts committed against them in circumvention of a “treaty” (δεινὰ καὶ παράσπονδα πεπονθότας)—although “friends and allies” (σύμμαχοι καὶ φίλοι) of Rome, they were treated like enemies (τῶν πολεμίων). Judging by the answer of Marcellus, their complaint concerned the harsh treatment they received after Syracuse was taken by the Romans, which Marcellus explained by the necessities of war. The senators voted in favor of Marcellus, and the envoys “fell at his feet, begging him with tears to remit his wrath against the embassy there present, and to take pity on the rest of the city.” Then the reconciliation took place. The Syracusans thus claimed that they had the status of “friends and allies,” which Valerius Maximus also seems to confirm, as he ended his description of what happened in 210 by praising Marcellus’s moderation “toward our allies” (adversus socios). The appeal of the Syracusans reveals that some sort of treaty (sponde) with Rome already existed prior to surrendering their city to Marcellus in 212. This was the basis of their accusations in 210. Because in 210, after acquitting Marcellus, the senate confirmed “the freedom, which he had restored to them, as well as their laws and what they kept of their possessions,” all of this should have been included in the agreement which the Syracusans and Marcellus established before the Romans entered Syracuse in 212. Therefore, we are dealing with a prearranged surrender of the city. Other such cases include the surrender of Tarentum in 209 and the second surrender of Phocaea in 190. The people of Tarentum sued for peace “with freedom and their own laws.” The Phocaeans had bargained to have the same conditions that they received when they surrendered the first time and that they should not be treated as “enemies.” Then, however, Roman soldiers began plundering the city, and Phocaea eventually suffered the same fate as Syracuse had in 212. The evidence that we have about Marcellus’s relations with Syracuse in the late third century thus supports neither the idea of his patronage over that city, whether “by conquest” or through the deditio in fidem, nor the idea that he, in fact, became the patron of that city at all. There is no reason, therefore, to think that Plutarch’s account “corresponded” to that of Livy.

46. But see David, Le patronat, 74, and J. B. Rives, in CP 88 (1993): 33 (in 210, the Syracusans “accused Marcellus before the Senate of violating the terms of surrender”), neither of whom, however, elaborated on this point. 47. Plut. Marcell. 23.1, 4. 48. Plut. Marcell. 23.4–5 and 6, respectively. Cf. Liv. 26.32.7. 49. Val. Max. 4.1.7. 50. Liv. 27.21.8: cum libertate ac legibus suis. 51. Liv. 37.32.9–14, incl. 10: pacti ne quid hostile paterentur. 52. A. Klotz, in RhM 83 (1934): 305–309, on various other differences in the two accounts, who explained them by Plutarch’s following a different (Latin) source, which Klotz tentatively identified as the text of Antias.

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Chronologically, the next of the known Roman patrons of the Greeks were one Marcellus, who was mentioned as “patron” in an honorific inscription from Delphi that has once been dated to 173, and L. Aemilius Paullus, who allegedly established a “clientela by conquest” after his victory at Pydna in 168. These two instances can be questioned, however: the inscription from Delphi has been redated to the first century b.c. and connected with another Marcellus, whereas Plutarch’s evidence about Paullus hardly points to him as patron of the Greeks. Plutarch says only that after Aemilius’s death, the Iberians, Ligurians, and Macedonians, “who chanced to be present,” participated in some way in his funeral and “called aloud upon Aemilius as benefactor and savior of their countries.” Not surprisingly, Plutarch’s words have been found insufficient to prove Paullus’s patronage over the Macedonians. It looks as if no reliable evidence exists to support the idea of Roman patronage over Greeks by the mid-second century. However, we do see how this patronage emerged in the 180s, as demonstrated by the letter of the Scipio brothers to Heraclea, which has been surprisingly neglected in discussions on foreign clientelae. The Romans pledged to preserve the status of Heraclea, and other Greek cities, in return for their loyalty: Roman patrocinium reciprocated Greek fides, thus signaling the beginning of Roman patronage in Greece. While the name of Flamininus was associated by some of the Greeks with fides, there is no indication that Flamininus was the author of this new form of interrelationship between the Romans and Greeks—no evidence exists concerning T. Quinctius Flamininus’s patronage over the Greeks either, even though Flamininus was also praised as “savior” by the Greeks. In sum, deditio in fidem alone did not create Roman foreign clientelae. Nor did a prearranged deditio, even though—unlike deditio in fidem—as an agreement established before the surrender took place, a prearranged surrender offered certain guarantees to the dediticii and, therefore, instituted a sort of agreement between the two sides. Foreign clientelae, like any clientela, were established only when the fides of the dediticii, who had surrendered themselves to the trust (fides) of the Roman people (or, in other words, surrendered unconditionally), was reciprocated by an offer of patrocinium, which safeguarded the status and rights of the dediticii. Such evidence emerged only in the early second century b.c., namely, in the course of the Roman war against Antiochos III. Therefore, on the basis of the available evidence, this should be considered the time of the foundation of Roman clientelae in the Greek East.

53. Harmand, Le patronat, 32, 73, with reference to BCH 6 (1882): 449 no. 78 (173 b.c.) = Syll. 774a (23 b.c.); cf. Dittenberger ad hoc (M. Marcellus, the first husband of Julia) and Eilers, Patrons, 198–199 C13 (M. Claudius Marcellus [cos. 51 b.c.]), both of whom were thus inclined to date this inscription to the first century b.c. 54. Mommsen, “Clientel,” 361 n. 10, and Harmand, Le patronat, 14, with reference to “Plut. Aem. 39.” 55. Plut. Aem. 39.8. See Eilers, Patrons, 50–51. 56. No reference to this letter has been made by Badian or Eilers. Harmand, Le patronat, 73 n. 68; 75 n. 81, noted this instance under “Patronat et Proxenie.” Dahlheim, Gewalt, 194 n. 54, referred to it in passing. 57. E.g., the hymn of praise to Flamininus: Plut. Flam. 16.4; the speech of Flamininus in 194: Liv. 34.50.1. 58. E.g., Syll. 592 = IG V.1, 1165 (Gytheum, c.195 b.c.) and IG XII.9, 931.5 (Chalcis); Plut. Flam. 16. 59. Gelzer, Nobility, 86–101 (“Patronage and community”) went no further into the past than the second century b.c.

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index of inscriptions, papyri, and coins

i Ager, Arbitrations no. 2 17, 74 (2), 77 (2), 83, 87, 89 no. 12 129 no. 14 132 (2), 133, 136 no. 53 147, 285 no. 77 207 no. 86 315 AM 44 (1919 [1920]) 5–6, no. 5F 106 72 (1957 [1958]) 157–158, no. 1 106 164–165, no. 2 106 172–173, no. 5 106 190–191, no. 23 106 87 (1972 [1974]), 205, no. 5 106 BMC. Italy, no. 15 247 Brun, Impérialisme no. 46 17, 34, 38 (2), 39, 57, 88, 382, 383, 385, 395 no. 47 382 no. 48 44 no. 49 44 no. 51 36 no. 53.A 395 no. 58 60

Bull.ép. 1972, no. 101 430 1988, no. 419 127 2005, no. 428 125 Canali de Rossi, Le ambascerie 10–12, no. 11 251, 253 (2) 195–198, no. 236e 171, 175, 180, 182, 192, 193 214–215, no. 257 247 256–258, no. 299 246, 247 CIL I2 626–632 348 Contoléon, “Inscriptions de Chios,” 10, no. 2 106 Dürrbach, Choix, vol. 1 no. 39 284 no. 58 204 no. 67 287 F.Delphes III.1, no. 523 170 III.4 no. 75 188 no. 153 135 FGrH 239 (Marmor Parium) B F 12 117

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FGrH (Continued) F 13 117 F 14 118 F 18 129 F 23 129 FIRA2 I, no. 7 438

34 35 37 40 41 42 43

Gauthier, “Deux décrets hellénistiques de Colophon-sur-mer,” 472 275 GHI 101 26, 33, 382 118 32, 38, 64, 352, 382, 395, 409 121 34, 38, 382 122 382 123 17, 34, 38 (2), 39, 57, 88, 229, 352, 353, 382, 383, 385, 395, 409 (2) 124 32 (2), 34, 382 (2) 126 44 130 32 131 36 133 395, 396 144 60, 88 145 53, 55, 60, 406 147 88 156 383 157 393, 403 177 17, 22, 74 (2), 77 (2), 83, 87, 89 184 98 185 97, 102, 134 192 95 Heisserer, Alexander 80 89, 95 143–145 98 145–168 97, 134 146 126 162–164 97, 98, 105 (3) 182–192 106 Hellen. Oxyrh., London fr. 11.3 40 Historia Numorum. Italy, no. 2347 247 Holleaux, Discours prononcé par Néron, 5 IC III (Hierapytna), 3A 88, 434 IV (Gortyn), no. 181 331 IG II2 1 417 14 26, 33, 382

280

32, 34, 38, 64, 352, 382, 395, 409 34 388 34, 39, 382 (2) 34, 38, 382 34, 382 17, 34, 38 (2), 39, 57, 88 (2), 229, 352, 353, 382, 383, 385, 395, 409 (2) 44 32 (2), 34, 382 (2) 96 44 97 44 103 395, 396 105 396 107 36 112 38, 60, 88 116 88 123 383 127 393, 403 230 38 236a 17, 22, 74 (2), 77 (2), 83, 87, 89 358 83 399 422 448 107 (2), 108 467 107 550 131 558 131 559 131 1492.B 131 (2) 1607 387 1653 80 IV 556 53, 55, 60 IV2. 1 68 89, 132 (2), 133, 136 94.I.b 85 V.1, 1165 275, 363, 444 V.2, 77 348 VII 433 348 1808 348 2462 32 2478–2478a 348 IX.12 241 145, 251, 253 (2) IX.2 89b 163, 181, 192, 227, 363 338 163, 227, 274, 275, 276, 279, 363 XI.4 596 284 751 287

Index of Inscriptions, Papyri, and Coins XII.6 17 106 18 106 38 106 42a.ef 106 43 106 44 106 59a 106 155 331 XII.7, 506 126 XII.9, 931 162, 363, 444 XII suppl. 168 124 IGR IV 179 160, 171, 175, 180, 182, 192, 193 1049 163, 363 1557 230, 233, 276 1692 246, 247 ILS 533 375 6093–6115 440, 442 6098 440 6100 440 8794 280 I.Délos 439a 163 442b 163 1429a.I 163 I.Didyma 479 107, 275 480 107 492 103 I.Ephesos 8 362 1420 106 1435 106 1436 106 1437 106 1443 106 1449 104 1453 106 1459 106 1489 367 1490 367 2004 106 2011 106 I.Erythrai 30 125, 134 31 97, 99, 101, 105, 125, 134 (2) I.Iasos

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2 103, 125, 136, 216, 241, 357 3 103 (2), 125, 216, 241, 357 4 103, 138, 216, 275 6 275 150 285 I.Ilion 1 127 45 138 I.Kibyra 1 246 2 123 I.Labraunda I 3 135 5 135 (2) 6.B 135 7 135 (2) 8 135 I.Lampsakos 4 171, 175, 180, 182, 192, 193 I.Metropolis I A 282, 362 I.Olympia 319 347 I.Priene 1 97, 101, 102 (2), 105 (2), 126, 134 1–6 105 2 97, 98, 101, 105 (3) 6 105 8 105 11 105 19 3 37 105 (2) 156 98 LSAM 15 246, 247 LW 187 98 188 97 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften, 1:224–227, no. 69 105, 125 Meritt, “Inscriptions of Colophon” 361, Col. I 105, 125 377–378, no. III 106 379–380, no. IV 106 Milet I3 123 119, 133 135 105 136 105 137 105 139b 107

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Milet (Continued) 139c 275 142 105 148 287, 289 150 287, 289, 430 I 9, 307 275 Moretti, Iscrizioni vol. 1 no. 2 422 no. 8 131 no. 37 162 no. 44 89, 132 (2), 133, 136 vol. 2, p. 31 170 OGI 1 97, 126, 134 5 120, 122, 357 6 120 12 126 213 275 222 231 223 97, 99, 101, 105, 125, 134 (2) 225 429 226 135, 231, 276 227 135, 276 228 135 237 216 762 246 Oliver, “Inscriptions from Athens,” no. 2 P.Dem. Louvre 2427 127 2440 127 PH 128 163, 363 R&O 6 26, 33, 382 20 32, 34, 38, 64, 352, 382, 395, 409 22 17, 34, 38 (2), 39, 57, 88 (2), 229, 352, 353, 382, 383, 385, 395, 409 (2) 23 34, 382 24 44 29.ii 385 30 32 31 36 33 395 34 396 41 38, 60, 88 42 53, 55, 60, 406

385

44 88 53 393 76a 17, 22, 73, 74 (3), 77 (2), 83, 87, 89 84.A 95 86.B 97, 102, 134 Res Gestae Divi Augusti 1.1 374, 376 6.34 375 Reynolds, Aphrodisias and Rome no. 1 123 no. 20 366 RIC I 213 246 (2) 214 246 239 246 (2) 251 246 (2) 270 246 (2) I2 79 375 (2) 238 376 246–247 376 251–252 376 255 376 256 376 260 376, 377 274 376 276 376 277 376 II 16 246 (2) 21 246 (2) 60 246 60–61 246 67 246 73 246 78 246 130 246 221 246 223–225 246 276 246 295 246 III 114 246 143 246 144 246 Rigsby, Asylia, no. 153 230, 233, 276 Robert, Collection Froehner I, 69–70, no. 52 125

Index of Inscriptions, Papyri, and Coins Robert, Jeanne, and Louis Robert, Fouilles d’Amyzon, 97, no. 2 106 Robert, Louis, and Jeanne Robert, Claros, 1:64 Col. I 278 Col. II 278 Roman Statutes, p. 66, no. 1, ll.11–12 440 Schenkungen hellenistischer Herrscher 1 no. 275 119 no. 281 275 SEG 1 75 132 (2), 133, 136 144 152 350 106 440 270 2, 566 230, 232, 233, 234, 236, 240, 242, 270 11 923 363 1107 180 13, 382 145, 251, 253 (2) 16 255 276, 325 (2) 328 170 17, 639 106 19, 698 105, 125 22, 507 278 23, 189 84 (2) 25 381 132 (2) 445 269 26 1019 95 1022 106 1226 216 (2) 28, 1224 427 30 1071 95 1076 106 1358 97, 134 1362 98 31, 67 385 37, 1008 127 39 1151–1171 106 1244.I 278 1244.II 278

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41 1003 275, 434 1004 135, 139, 215, 275 SGDI 3656 163, 363 Sherk, Documents no. 1.A 269 no. 1.B 269 no. 9 163, 181, 227, 363 no. 22 247 no. 28 280 no. 33 163, 164, 227, 274, 275, 276, 279, 363 no. 34 230, 233, 276 no. 35 9, 230, 232, 233, 234, 236, 240, 242, 270, 365, 370 no. 36 270 no. 40 164 no. 40.A 188, 289 no. 40.B 188, 289 no. 43 276, 350 no. 70 278 no. 96 192 SNG. ANS, no. 531 247 SNG. Oxford, no. 1570 247 Staatsverträge 2 no. 156 16 no. 193 388 no. 194 24 no. 195 25 no. 202 25, 407, 410 no. 223 26, 33, 382 no. 242 27, 57 no. 243 394 no. 248 32, 34, 38, 64, 382, 409 no. 254 33 nos. 254–255 35 no. 255 382 (2) no. 256 34, 38, 382 no. 257 17, 34, 37, 38, 38, 39, 57, 229, 352, 353, 382, 383, 385, 395, 409 (2) no. 258 382 no. 259 382 no. 262 44 no. 263 44 no. 264 404 no. 265 402 no. 282 404 no. 290 38, 60, 88

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Staatsverträge (Continued) no. 292 53, 55, 60, 401, 406 no. 293 88 no. 326 221, 253 no. 329 68, 77, 408 no. 335 272 no. 337 86 no. 340 38 no. 347 261 3 no. 403 133 no. 403a 17, 22, 74 (2), 77 (2), 83, 87 no. 428 120, 122, 357 no. 433 130 no. 434 130 no. 438 189 no. 446 89, 132 (2), 133, 136 no. 448 131 no. 476 88, 116, 136 (2), 397 no. 480 84 no. 494 281 no. 501 418 no. 502 418 no. 503 166 no. 506 418 no. 507 137 no. 536 145, 251, 253 (2) no. 543 178 no. 544 238 no. 548 183, 187, 195 no. 551 88, 434 no. 552 251 Syll.3 122 26, 33, 382 142 32, 38, 64, 352, 382, 395, 409 146 34, 38 147 57, 88, 229, 382, 383, 385, 395, 409 (2) 148 32 (2), 34, 382 (2) 150 44 151 44 159 395 163 396 164 36 181 60, 88 182 53, 55, 60, 406 184 88 194 241

196 393, 403 260a 17, 22, 74, 77 (2), 83, 87, 89 277 98 278 97, 98, 105 (3) 283 89, 95 286 105 312 106 322 119 (2) 327 107 328 119, 133 330 127 342 133 343 133 344 106 390 126 409 231 434 159 434/435 116, 136 (2) 567–570 433 581 88, 434 584 204 588 287, 289 591 160, 171, 175, 180, 182, 192, 193 592 163, 275, 363, 444 593 163, 164, 227, 274, 275, 276, 279, 363 601 230, 233, 276 607 269 608 269 609 269 612 269 (2) 617 152 618 9, 230, 232, 233, 234, 236, 240, 242, 270, 365, 370 630 277, 282, 373 633 287, 289 634 322 643 188, 289 649 326 665 330, 331 674 181, 192, 227, 363 675 333 676 347 684 276, 350 694 246, 247 742.I 362 774a 444 785 233 814 280 849 367

Index of Inscriptions, Papyri, and Coins TAM III.1, 2

88

Welles, Royal Correspondence no. 1 120, 122, 357 no. 3 106, 331

no. 6 126 no. 7 331 no. 15 97, 99, 101, 105, 125, 134 (2) no. 36 275 Wilhelm, Vier Beschlüsse, no. 1 385

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index of ancient authors and texts

i Ael. VH 1.25 104, 427, 428 6.1 78, 83 Aen. Tact. 12.3 123 Aeschin. 2. 27 390 32 61, 402 (3), 403 (2), 404 (3) 70–72 241 86 384 104 81, 416 116 417 136–137 416 140–141 416 3. 54 68, 241 74 384 83 86 165 83 (2), 87, 95, 108 165–167 422 167 79, 90, 414, 421, 422 238–239 426 239–240 426 238–240 94 254 74

Ampel. Lib. mem. 29.3 376 49.3 438 Andoc. 3.17 57, 59, 66, 137 3.19 407 3.28 57, 137 3.34 57, 137 Anth.Pal. 16.5 159 App. Iber. 58 273 60 259, 273 95 243, 261 Lyb. 64 261, 268 110 268 Mac. 3 147, 345 3.1 148, 285, 366 3.4 178 4 166, 183 4.1 148, 285, 366, 436 4.1–2 183 4.2 183, 242, 252

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App. (Continued) 5 169 5–6 168 7 146 9.3 154, 158, 210 9.3–4 211 9.4 154, 189, 211, 229, 275 11.2 299 11.3 291 17 292 Mithr. 12 220 23 286 Pun. 54 187, 195 132 152 Sam. 10.1 193, 194 10.2 194 Syr. 1 158 1–2 197 2 170 (2) 3 148, 207, 210, 367 6 218, 222 12 188, 217 (2), 222, 223, 419 22 364 25 364 29 171 39 189, 215, 246, 247 54 121 54–55 122 65 135, 276 Apul. Metam. 11.16.9 438 Arist. Ath.Pol. 24.2 383 61.6 80 62.2 80 (5) Polit. 4.11.9, 1296b.1–2 340 Aristid. Or. 26.64 368 Arr. 1.7.11 81, 92 1.8.8 92 1.10.2 83, 108, 325 1.16.7 78 1.17.1–2 97, 99, 431 1.17.4 101, 103, 231 1.17.7 101, 103

1.17.10 99, 428, 431 1.18.1–2 355 1.18.2 102 1.23.7–8 430 1.26.2–3 101, 103, 428 1.26.3 100 (2) 1.27.2–4 101, 103, 428 2.1.4 93, 96, 140, 361 2.2.2 93, 96, 140, 361 2.14.4–9 431 2.14.6 88 3.2.3–7 422 3.5.1 422 3.6.1–3 422 3.6.3 423 3.6.4 101 3.24.5 75 7.9.5 88 7.12.4 93, 95, 113, 139, 355 Succ. F 19 121 Athenae. 1, pp. 29f–30a 428 1, p. 30a 428 3, p. 78f 429 6, p. 249c 79, 414 10, p. 439e 217 12, p. 538b 426 August. De civ. Dei 3.14 372 Bekker, Anecd. I, p. 466

6

Caes. B.A. 7 279 33 279 B.C. 1.22.5 376 B.G. 1.36.1 265 2.3 261 7.1 372 Cato fr. 164 298, 305 (2), 342 166 305 169 306 Cicero and the Ciceronian corpus Ad Att. 6.2.4 6, 280 Ad Fam. 12.12.2 376 Ad Oct.

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Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 1 376 3 280 4 375 Ad Quint. 1.1.27 164 Balb. 21 260 34 271 Brut. 77 152 78 152 79 152 89 260, 268, 437 De leg. agr. 2.102 372 De leg. Manil. 14 166 De nat. deor. 2.61 246 De Off. 1.23 245, 439 1.35 263 2.26 177 2.26–27 370 2.27 440 2.76 348 3.104 245, 246, 439 3.111 260, 273, 439 De orat. 1.227 259 De rep. 2.31 202 De senect. 37–42 152 Font. 27 279 Philip. 2.30 374, 376 2.97 280 2.113 372 7.3 438 8.12 374 12.7 374 13.1 374 Pro Cluent. 146 372 Pro Rabir. 13 376 Rosc.Amer. 93 438 Scaur. 26 438, 441 Tusc. Disp. 4.43 372 Verr. 2.1.55 348 2.2.90 234 2.3.13 234, 235 2.3.45 442 2.4.89–90 442 5.106 164

Claud. Mamert. Paneg. Iul. 28.4 Curt. 3.7.2 101, 103 4.8.11 422 4.8.12–13 422 4.8.15 423 6.1.20 87 10.2.1–7 426 10.2.3 425 10.2.4–5 91

246

D.C. 21.72.1 344 21.72.2 348 45.17.3 244 52.37.10 367 62.3.3 373 75.14.1–3 429 D.H. Epist. ad Amm. 1.11 68, 73 (2) Lys. 12 45, 395, 403 Rom. Ant. 2.35.4 261 2.75.2–3 244 4.58.4 245 5.68.4 240 6.28.2 240 Demosthenes and the Demosthenic corpus 1.8 241 1.22 411, 413 2.7 416 2.11 419 5.14 416 5.19 417 5.20 416 6.2 68 (2) 6.14 416 6.22 79, 413 7 71 7.10 89 7.16 89 7.18 408 7.18–23 69 7.19 89 7.22–23 69 7.24 408 7.25 69 7.26 69 (2), 353, 408

478 i

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Demosthenes (Continued) 7.27–28 241 7.28–29 402 7.30 70, 72 7.30–32 72 7.31 68 7.32 68, 70, 72 7.37 68 7.39–45 68 8.14 411, 413 8.62 419 9.16 402 (3) 9.26 79, 108, 279, 325, 413 12.22 68 14.3 44 14.34 385 14.38–39 385 15.9 406 16.9–10 60 (2) 16.12 389 (2) 16.16–17 353, 408 17.2 73, 87 17.4 73, 87 17.6 73 17.7 88, 431 17.8 76, 87, 88, 195, 229 17.8–10 22 17.10 17, 83 (2), 88, 89 17.14 88 17.15 229 17.15–16 89 17.16 88 17.17 87 17.18 88 17.19 88 17.20 88 17.22 88 17.26 88 17.27–28 88 17.29 87 17.30 87, 88 18.29 193 18.39 193 18.43 78, 79, 414 18.48 419 18.77 193 18.89 355 (2) 18.91 154 18.147 414

18.155 417 18.166 416 18.211–213 416 18.295 419 19.16 402 (2), 405 19.21 81 19.40–41 68 19.47–49 68 19.48 77 19.50 417 19.81 79, 84 19.85 416 19.111 417 19.112 81 19.116 69 19.119 69 19.136–137 402 19.137 404 (2) 19.159 384 19.181 70, 417 19.204 79, 84 19.220 81 19.245 69 19.253 402 (2) 19.259–262 69 19.278 384 19.294 70 19.300 70 19.306 70 19.318 416 19.321 416 23.149 390 23.181–183 416 49 387 49.14 387 49.48–54 387 59.36 43 Dig. Anonym. 1.1.1.1 440 Procul. 49.15.7.1 7, 193, 228, 266, 277 Dinarch. 1.10 94 1.18–22 94 1.20 92, 361 1.21 426 1.34 83 1.68 424 1.70 424 1.81 424

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 1.82 424, 425 1.89 424 1.96 426 Dio Or. 32.71–72 367 38.33–37 367 40.5 368 46.14 367 Diod. 5.19.1–4 31 9.54.1 108, 139 12.4.5 16 14.10.2 396 14.17.4–12 25, 361 14.34.1 52 14.62.1 396 14.82.1 26 14.93.5 237 14.94.4 88 14.110.3 27, 60, 352, 409 (2) 15.5.3 30, 279 15.5.3–5 29 15.5.5 29, 388 15.9.5 31 15.19.1 32, 35 15.19.1–4 31 15.20.1–2 30, 34 15.21.1 40 15.25.4–15.26.2 33 15.27.4 39 15.28.1 39, 384 15.28.1–4 396 15.28.2 31, 36 15.28.3 36 15.28.3–4 38 15.28.5 37, 39, 381, 385 15.29.5 35 15.29.5–7 36 15.29.6 34 15.29.5–7 36 15.29.6–7 37 15.29.7 35 (2), 39, 381, 385, 386 15.30.1–2 41 15.30.3–4 31 15.31.1–2 41 15.38.1 41 (2), 52, 57 15.38.1–4 393 15.38.2 45, 53, 229, 353 15.38.2–4 42, 57, 137, 385

j 479

15.38.3 58, 384 15.38.3–4 43, 44 (2), 387, 388 15.38.4 42 15.50.4 43, 45, 53, 388, 395, 403 (2) 15.51.1 58, 137 15.51.4 46 15.52.1 40, 388 15.54.5 389 15.59.1–4 30, 85, 395 15.60.3 404 15.62.3 389 15.63.2 393 15.67.1 43, 49, 393 15.70.1 396 15.70.2 52, 54, 57, 58, 59, 137, 406 15.76.3 59 (2), 399, 400, 406 (2) 15.77.1 59, 406 15.79.1 390 15.81.3 399, 404 15.82.2–5 85, 395 15.89.1 60 (2), 396 15.89.1–2 55, 61, 406 15.90.2 54, 58, 61, 396, 404 15.90.3 53 16.2.4 54 16.2.6 92 16.14.2 415 16.31 415 16.34 415 16.35.1 415 16.58.2–3 416 16.59 416 16.59.4 416 16.59.4–16.60.4 417 16.60 84 16.60.1–2 78, 79 (2), 417 16.69.8 413 16.77.2 73 16.87.3 133 16.89.2–3 88 16.89.3 87 16.91.1 96 17.4.1 90, 414 17.4.9 91 17.8.5–6 426 17.9.5 91, 361 17.13.5 92 17.14.1 137 17.17.5 93

480 i Diod. (Continued) 17.24.1 97, 99, 101 17.24.2–3 430 17.62–63 139 17.62.1 94 17.62.1–17.63.3 94 17.62.1–3 93 17.62.6–8 94, 419 17.62.7 94, 423 17.63.1 93 17.63.2 94 17.73.5 95, 137 17.108.8 425 (2) 17.109.1–2 91 17.118.1 93, 355 18.3.1–3 431 18.9.5 107, 208 18.10.2 107 18.10.2–5 107, 113 18.10.3 107 (2), 208 18.10.5 107 18.11.1 108 (2) 18.11.3–4 108, 139 18.12.1 93, 355 18.12.3 107 18.13.4 108 18.17.6 107 18.17.8 107, 108 18.17.8–18.18.1 112 18.18.9 406 18.38.3–4 107 18.48.4 116 18.51.1 117 18.51.2–7 117 18.51.6 123 18.52.1 117 18.52.4 117 18.52.4–6 117 18.55.2 113, 115 (2) 18.55.2–3 124 18.56.1–4 126 18.56.2–8 229 18.56.3 97, 105, 113 18.56.4–6 114 18.56.6–7 80 18.56.7 114, 124 18.57.1 121, 124 18.64.3 114 18.64.5 114

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 18.65.1 114 18.69.3 114, 115 18.69.4 115 18.69.4–18.72.1 87, 115 19.7 223 19.53.2 118 19.54.1–2 118 19.57.1 121 19.61.1–5 121 19.61.3 115, 357 19.61.3–4 115 19.61.4 118 (2), 229 19.62.1 115 19.62.2 118 19.66.3 118 19.74.1–2 119 19.75.1 119 19.75.3 119, 231 19.75.4 119 19.77.4 120 19.78.2 119 19.79.4–7 120 19.83–84 121 19.85.3 121 19.87.2–3 119 19.105.1 120 (2), 121 19.105.1–4 129 20.19.3 128, 197 20.19.4–5 128 20.37.1–2 130 (2) 20.37.2 130 20.45.1–2 130 20.46.1 123 20.46.1–3 130 20.46.4 131 20.46.4–6 133 20.46.5 133 20.46.6 129, 133 20.81.3 284 20.84.1 129 20.95.4–5 106 20.99.3 103, 106, 284 20.100.6 130 20.102.1 131, 133 20.102.1–2 131 20.102.2 130, 133 20.103.3 131 20.103.3–4 130 20.106.1 133

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 20.107.1 133 20.107.2 98 20.107.4 104 20.110.2 131 20.110.2–6 130 20.110.4 133 20.110.6 131, 133 20.111.2 131 23.4.1 235 (2), 272 23.18 268 23.18.3–5 246 23.18.4–5 260 27.1.1 204 27.3 433 28.1 433, 435 28.2 436 28.9 436 28.10 435 28.11 154, 168, 210, 230 28.13.1 276 28.15.2–4 222 28.15.4 218 29.7 170, 171 29.9 239 29.33 189 30.7.1 155 30.24.1 297 31.5.1 309 31.5.1–6 308 31.5.3 293 31.8.2 232 31.8.6 230 Diog. Laert. 10.1.1 80 Fest. p. 56 (M) 245 p. 269 (M) 244 FGrH 70 (Ephoros) 56 F 79 29 115 (Theopompos) F 42 241 F 208 79, 279, 414 F 209 79, 414 126 (Ephippos), F 5 426 328 (Philochoros) FF 53–55a 73 (2) F 55 68 F 148 382

F 151 41 434 (Memnon), F 18 247, 270 472 (Agathocles), F 5 244 FHG II, Aristotle, F 145 414 Flor. 1.1.2.1–4 244 1.2.3 244 1.11 260 1.3.6 177 1.22.4 166 1.32.2 346 1.36.3 440 Front. Ad verum imp. 2.7.2 438 Gaius 4.62 439 Gell. 5.13.1–2 439 6.3 330 6.3.1–5 308 6.3.3 305, 309 6.3.16 298, 305 (2), 342 6.3.35–36 305 6.3.47 306 6.3.48 306 6.3.50 306 15.11.1 164, 192 Harpocr. s.v. τετραρχία 79, 279, 414 Hdn. 3.2.8 368 3.6.9 429 7.7.4 375 Hom. Od. 1.47 152 Hyperid. 5.8 104, 424 5.9 424 5.10 424, 425 5.11 424 5.12 425 (2) 5.17 94 5.18 80, 82, 85, 87, 110, 136, 425 5.24 425 6.10 107 6.11 107, 108, 139 6.16 107 6.34 107 6.39–40 107

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Isocr. 4 70 4.126 30, 279 4.175 393 4.176–177 31, 409 4.178 409 5.2–5 241 5.16 70, 72 5.20 413 5.20–21 79 5.30–31 56 5.50 70, 72 5.56 70, 72, 241 5.79 417 5.127 70, 72 5.154 70, 72 6 399 6.27 393, 404 7.1–2 383 8.16 45, 56, 57, 353 (2), 394, 408 (3), 409 8.17 393 (2) 8.98 26 8.100 29 8.118 413 12.97–98 361 12.104 26 12.106 409 14.5 41 14.8–9 39 14.10–12 57 14.17 36, 41, 393 14.18 44, 51 14.21 44 14.23–24 46 14.23–25 408 14.27 394 14.28 26, 388 14.35 39 14.38 57 14.44 393 15.111–113 406 ep. 3.2 56 Iust. 6.6.1 408 8.1.1–2 109 8.2.1–2 412 9.4.5 133 9.5.2 75, 78, 83 9.5.3 76

11.2.5 91 11.3.1–2 416 11.3.2 414 11.3.8 92 12.1.6–8 94 13.5.4 107, 113 13.5.5 107 13.5.9 425 13.5.10 108 13.5.17 107 15.5.7 426 18.4.4 413, 416 29.4.11 166 30.3.5–10 166 30.3.6 188 30.3.7 168 30.4.5 203 30.4.17 161 31.1.6 206 31.1.7 207 33.2.7 310, 350 Jos. A.J. 12.416 246 12.416–417 247 14.266 246 B.J. 2.216 246 Jul. Obs. 68 244, 247 Liv. 1.21.3 244 1.21.3–4 244 1.23.7 372 1.38.1–2 163, 228, 260, 261, 266 1.38.2 267 2.15.7 244 4.10.3 245 5.27.5–12 272 7.27.2 221 7.31.3–12 272 7.31.4 238, 261 8.2.13 268 8.11.12–13 272 8.14.2–12 261 8.21.7 244 8.25.11 268 10.11.13–10.12.1 260

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 21.2.7 166 21.18.9 166 21.19.1 186 23.5.9 260 23.15.2 260 24.48.9 268, 274 25.7.4 164, 192 25.8.8 237 25.24.8–15 223 25.28.3 234, 236, 364 25.29.6 442 26.22.12–13 186 26.24.4–14 256 26.24.8–15 194 26.24.12–13 250 26.24.14 254 26.24.15 146 26.26.3 146 26.32.2 234, 236, 364 26.32.7 443 26.32.7–8 442 26.32.8 442 26.49.8 281 27.15–16 146 27.16.6–9 153 27.21.8 234, 236, 364, 443 27.30.5 147 27.30.10 147, 285 27.30.10–14 147 28.7.12 242 28.7.13–15 147 28.14.5 343 28.37.10 271 28.45.8 164, 192 29–30 143 29.3.1–5 238 29.6.17 236, 247 29.7.3 236, 247 29.9.11 236 29.11.1 185 29.11.2 188 29.12.8 177 29.12.14 178, 183, 184, 187, 191, 194, 203 (3) 29.16.4–29.19.13 236 29.19.1–2 236 29.19.7 236 29.21.7 234 30.37.1–6 189 31.1.10 183

31.6.1 166, 177, 185, 188 31.15.4 198 31.15.8 286, 287 31.15.10 168, 198, 286 31.23 146 31.29.4 251 31.29.5 252 31.31.6–7 234 31.31.6–8 236 31.31.8 236 31.31.10 272 31.31.12 272 31.31.20 252 31.45.1–7 146 31.46.9–16 146 32.2.5 271 32.8.13–16 188, 221 (3) 32.8.16 187 32.10 230 32.17.1–2 261 32.19.4 160, 313 32.19.6 180, 204, 314 32.23.1–2 315 32.23.2 315 32.24.1–7 180 32.24.7 271 32.27.1 370 32.28.9 207 32.33.3–4 169 32.33.4 161 32.33.5–16 169 32.37.6 164, 238 32.38 203 32.39.10 203 32.39.10–32.40.2 187 32.40.1–3 204 32.40.1–4 205 33.5.1–3 250 33.12.2 162 33.12.4 169 33.13.7 255 33.13.8 210, 255, 260 33.13.10 251 33.13.12 250, 255 33.20.1–3 286 33.20.8 188, 221 33.20.11–12 286 33.24.5 162 33.24.7 191, 192

j 483

484 i Liv. (Continued) 33.25.4–5 173, 179 33.25.4–7 191, 202 33.25.7 191, 192 33.25.11 172, 207 33.27.5 173 33.28–29 174 33.28–33.29.10 159 33.30 190 33.30.1 157, 173, 191 33.30.1–2 157 33.30.1–5 202 33.30.2 191 33.30.10 161 33.30.10–11 160, 180 33.30.11 184, 286 33.31.1 216 33.31.4 173 33.31.5 180, 192 33.31.11 161 33.32.5 154, 164, 211, 229, 274 33.32.5–6 211 33.33.2 275 33.33.6 177, 179 33.33.7 154, 211, 229 33.34.3 369 33.34.7 161 33.34.8 161 33.34.10 161 33.38.1 158 33.38.3 182, 197 33.38.3–5 197 33.39.1 212 33.39.2–33.41.5 197, 218 33.43.6 207 33.44.7 238 33.44.8–9 162, 205 33.44.9 201 33.45.2–3 207 33.49.8 251, 252 34.22.4 369 34.22.4–5 207 34.22.5 201, 205 34.22.6–34.23.11 205 34.22.7–13 205 34.22.8 166 34.22.12–13 205 34.23.1 207

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 34.23.3–4 208 34.23.5 208 34.23.5–11 207, 361 34.23.8 162, 216, 367, 373 34.23.10 207 34.23.11 148 34.25.2 221 34.31.1–4 187, 317 34.31.1–19 205 34.31.3–4 187, 240 34.31.5 185 34.31.5–10 203 34.31.12–13 204 34.31.13 203 34.32.1 185 34.32.1–2 204 34.32.1–13 206 34.32.1–20 205 34.32.4 205, 230 34.32.8 300 34.32.16 186 (2), 187, 203 34.33.12 245 34.35–37 205 34.35.2–3 201 34.35.3 208 34.35.8 208 34.35.9 286 34.35.9–10 208 34.40.3 240 34.40.7 271 34.41 205 34.41.5–6 162 34.41.6 204 34.46.6 217 34.48.2 216, 274 34.48.5–6 206 34.49.6 216 34.49.11 278 34.50.1 278, 444 34.51.1–4 161 34.51.2–3 223 34.51.4–6 227, 348, 363 34.57.1–2 192 34.57.2 170 34.57.6 188 34.57.6–11 222 34.57.7 261 34.57.7–9 188 34.57.10 230

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 34.57.11 221 34.58.2–3 190, 214, 218, 221, 222 34.58.11 278, 370, 440 34.59.1 214 34.59.1–2 221 34.59.2 214, 221 34.59.4 170 34.59.4–5 217, 222, 262, 278 35.12.6–7 208, 209 (2) 35.12.7 208, 314 35.12.17 209 35.13.1–2 209 (2) 35.13.2 209 35.13.3 223, 314 (2) 35.16–17 222 35.16.2 162, 207, 216 (2), 361 35.16.5 171 35.20.13–14 222 35.22.1–2 209, 222 35.22.2 222 35.25.2–35.30.13 209 35.31.8 274 35.31.8–15 366 35.31.14 274 35.31.14–15 164, 363 35.31.15 274 35.32.10 345 35.33.1 345 35.33.4–8 254 35.33.8 217, 361 35.34.3 300 35.34.4 238 35.35.1–19 209 35.36.1–10 209 35.37.1–3 314 35.37.2 209, 323 35.38.9–10 217 35.44.6 216 35.45.9 223, 419 35.46.9–13 217 35.46.11 369 35.46.11–13 251, 277, 370 35.50.2 314, 315 36.3.8 252 36.3.9–12 252 36.3.11 223 36.9.4 216 36.17.8 238 36.22.1 312

36.27.8 238, 257, 266 36.27–28 239 36.28.1 238 36.28.4 238, 239, 266 36.31.1–9 209, 315, 317, 323 36.31.4–9 363 36.35.7 323 37.1.5 238, 265 37.1.6 265, 270 37.4.6 314 37.9.1–4 300 37.9.1–5 217 37.9.2 364 37.13.11 287 37.26.9 268, 274 37.32.9 364 37.32.9–14 271, 443 37.32.10 271 37.32.12 271 37.32.14 364 (2) 37.45.3 164 37.49.1 312 37.49.1–2 312 37.49.4 239, 265 37.54.17 277, 370, 440 37.56.4–6 231 37.56.5–6 289 38.3.7–8 239 38.8.8 223 38.8.9 239 38.9.9–12 239 38.9.11 186 38.10.2–5 239 38.11.2–9 239 38.29.11 260 38.30–31 316 38.30.2–4 418 38.30.2–5 316 38.30.6–9 209 38.31.1–2 209, 315 38.32.1–5 316 38.32.6–8 316, 361, 367 38.32.8 315, 317 38.32.8–10 315 38.33.1–38.34.9 317 39.33.5–8 323 38.38.3–4 189, 215 38.38.9 189, 215 38.39.8–17 231, 283

j 485

486 i

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Liv. (Continued) 38.39.13 289 38.39.15–16 289 38.44.4 232 38.48.4 234 39.13.1–2 209 39.23.5 299 39.29.3 299 39.33.5–8 317 39.36.1–39.37.21 323 39.36.9–11 314 39.37.1–4 314 39.37.9–17 316, 367 39.37.10 314, 315 39.37.12 314 39.37.13 315, 318, 361 39.37.13–14 323 39.37.14 318, 336 39.37.15 314 39.37.19–21 318 39.42.12 268, 274 39.43.1–3 214 39.46.7–8 80 39.48.1–4 321 39.50.9 321 39.54.7–13 261 (2) 40.49.4 261 41.6.11–12 337 41.23.1–2 299 41.23.3 299 41.23.6 299 41.23.9 299 (2) 41.24 325 41.24.6 189 41.24.7 300 41.24.16 299 41.24.19 299, 345, 361 41.24.19–20 300 42.5.1–2 300 42.7.3 259 42.8.1–6 260, 268, 437 42.8.5–6 258 42.12.4 299 42.12.5–6 300, 361 42.12.6 289 (2), 300, 324, 362 42.12.6–7 325 42.13.4 188, 189 42.13.5 188 42.14.3 296

42.14.3–6 291 42.14.6 291, 296 42.19.8 220 42.21.5 261 42.23.3 189 42.23.4 183, 195 42.25.4 183, 188 (2), 189, 196, 290 42.25.7 186 42.25.10–11 290 42.26.8 305, 309 42.30.1 300 42.30.10 189, 290 42.37.7 335 42.37.7–8 324 42.37.8 325 42.37.9 323 42.46 298 42.46.3 297 42.46.4 291, 298, 342 42.46.6 220, 302 42.46.7 300 42.46.9–10 189, 298, 300, 301 42.47.1 155 42.47.9 155 42.63.1–2 298 42.63.3–11 301 42.63.12 309 43.2.3 440 43.2.4 440 43.4.5 290 43.6.3 290 43.6.9 190 (2) 43.7.8 160 43.7.10 160 43.8.6 206, 290 43.17.2–4 325 44.9.1 263 44.14.8–12 295, 305, 306, 367 44.14.9 294 44.14.12 305, 307 44.14.13 295 44.15.1–2 306 44.15.3–8 297 44.16.5 290 44.23.10 294, 297, 303, 305, 307 44.24.6 298, 302 44.35.4–8 293, 295 44.35.6 295 44.37.8 295

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 45.3.3 296, 304, 308 45.3.4 297, 303 45.3.6 297 45.3.6–8 296 45.3.7 297 45.9.3 164 45.10.12–15 304 45.18.1–2 371 45.18.4–8 310, 350 45.19 337 45.22.4 305 45.22.6 166, 178 45.23.6 305 45.23.11–13 307 45.24.1 305, 306 45.25.2 293 45.25.2–3 330 45.25.4–6 304 45.25.9 196, 220 45.26.12 230 45.28.6–7 160 45.29.4 232 45.31.1–2 160 45.34.1–6 159, 160, 278 45.34.9 329 45.35.1 329 45.44.9–10 294 per. 15 372 per. 28 271 per. 43 289, 290 per. 44 261, 305 per. 46 312 per. 48–49 259 per. 49 260, 261, 268, 437 per. 50 334 per. 51 336, 348 per. 52 336, 346, 348 per. 81 280 Lucan. B.C. 4.227 371, 374 Lyd. De ost. 9 152, 295 Lys. 33 70 33.6–7 66 I Macc. 8 Nepos Epam. 6.1–2

378

390

6.4 46, 50 10.3 39 Timoth. 2 41 2.1–2 42 Oros. 3.23.15 108 5.3 347 5.3.3 346 Paus. 1.25.2 80 1.25.3 107 1.25.4 108, 139 1.25.4–5 87, 108 1.36.6 183 2.9.2 137, 279 2.33.4–5 103 3.8.3 31 3.8.3–7 25, 361 4.28.4–5 70 5.4.9 70 5.10.5 348 5.23.4 16 5.24.4 348 7.2.10 105 7.7.6–8 252 7.8.1 180 7.8.1–2 180, 314 7.9.2 323 7.9.3–4 318 7.9.4 318, 320, 336 7.9.4–5 323 7.9.5 323 7.9.7 319 7.10.7–10 328 7.10.12 330 7.11.1 331 7.11.1–3 330, 331, 335 7.11.4–5 333 (2) 7.12.4 323 7.12.4–6 320, 334 7.13.6 334 7.14.1 334 7.14.4 338 7.14.4–5 337 7.14.5 339 7.14.5–7 338

j 487

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Paus. (Continued) 7.14.6 346 7.15.1–2 334, 344 7.15.2 334, 344 7.15.3 347 7.15.3–4 346 7.15.4 347 (2) 7.16.9 348, 350 7.16.9–10 349 7.16.10 324 7.17.3 280 7.17.3–4 280 8.6.2 389 8.8.7–10 29 8.8.10 85, 86 8.8.11 86 8.9.1–2 342 8.27.8 48 8.30.5 323 8.30.8 342 8.37.2 342 8.44.5 342 8.48.8 342 8.51.8 321 9.13.2 21, 41, 46 (2) 9.13.7 40 9.14.4 29 9.14.4–5 86 9.15.6 47 10.2.5 416 10.3.1–3 79, 417 10.3.3 78, 79, 84 10.20.3 40 10.33.3 170 10.33.8 78, 79, 84 10.34.4 178 10.35.2 228 Philostr. VA 4.33 374 5.41.1 374 Phot. Bibl. 82, 64.a21–b32 431 Plat. Alcib. 1, 123b–e 428 Plaut. Menaech. 576 438 Pliny the Elder, NH 3.7 228 3.12 228 3.90–91 235 4.22 280

4.39 160 5.29–30 228 27.3 368 35.135 152 Pliny the Younger Ep. 3.4.4 441 Paneg. 27.1 375 Plutarch and the corpus Plutarcheum Aem. 28.6 232 28.11 152 29.2–5 159, 160, 278 39.8 444 Ages. 23.3 30 23.3–24.1 34 27.4–28.2 46, 118 28.1–2 21, 46 28.5 47 31.1 47 34.3 47, 85 35 55 35.2–3 60 35.3 396 Alex. 3.5–7 100 11.3 426 11.4 361 11.5 92 14.1 91 16.8 78 28 80 34.1 100 34.2 431 Apopht.Lac. 216c 422 Arat. 38.6 418 45.1 418 (2) 45.1 418 45.2 418 Cato Mai. 9 330 Cleom. 30.1 137 Dem. 8.5 103 18.2 414 23.1–5 421 24.1 422 25.3 123 25.4 425

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 25.5–6 424 25.7 425 Demetr. 18.2 121 25.3 132 Fab. 22.4–6 153 22.8 152 Flam. 1.3–8.5 143 1.4 153 9.4 168 10 162 10.4 154, 164, 211, 229, 274 11.3–7 159 12.5–6 205 12.7 214 12.8 280 (2), 374 12.11–12 153 15.1 217 16 162, 444 16.3–4 275 16.4 278, 365, 444 17.1 275 Inst.Lacon. 42, p. 240ab 95, 323 Marcell. 1.2 159 23.1 443 23.4 364, 443 23.4–5 443 23.6 443 23.6–7 236, 364 Num. 16.1 244 Pelop. 5.2–3 30 6.2–3 388 8–11 39 13.1 39 14 33 14.1 382, 388 14.3 35 15.1 35, 382, 385 20.2 47 25.1 174 30.1–5 399 30.5 58 30.7 399, 404 31.1 399, 404 35.3–7 415

Philop. 15.3 314 16.2 314 16.3–5 317 16.6 323 17.2–3 316, 361 19.2 209 Phoc. 16.4 75 16.4–5 88 16.5 133 16–17 103 18.4–5 104 18.5 427 31.1 116 31.1–2 114 Praec.ger.reip. 17, 813e 343 17, 814a 367 17, 814cd 343 32, 824c 343 Pyrrh. 26.10 136 Reg.imp.apopht. 191e 422 Them. 29.7 428 Ti.Gracch. 21.4 152 Vita X Orat. 846A 80 (2) 846B 104, 424 (3), 425 Polyaen. 4.2.19 79, 413 (2), 415 4.3.23 90 5.17.2 433 6.49 102, 103, 104, 430 Polyb. 1.6.2 340 1.7.12 236, 241 1.24.10–13 246 1.38.5–10 246 2.7.4 340 2.11.5–6 244, 260 2.11.5–12 249 2.11.6–8 373 2.11.8 244 2.11.10 244 2.11.12 244 2.12.3 189 2.12.8 157 2.37.8–2.38.9 323 2.37.9 314, 340

j 489

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Polyb. (Continued) 2.37.10–11 341 2.41.6 82 2.41.9 82 2.52.4 418 2.54.1 418 2.54.4 136, 229, 418 (2) 2.54.4–5 229 2.70.4 137 2.71.1–2 340 3.1.3 217 3.4.2–13 341 3.5.6 335, 341 3.7.3 216 3.14.9–10 441 3.16.3 189 3.20.5–6 441 3.22.1–2 340 3.24.3 221 3.24.5 253 3.29.3 189 3.29.5–7 193 3.29.10–3.30.3 261 3.30.1 441 4.3.8 137 4.8.4 136 4.25.6–7 9, 137 (2), 170, 229, 231 4.25.7 357 4.27.5 27, 352 4.27.5–6 29, 31 4.33.8–9 61 4.47.1 285 4.47.3 213, 285, 311 4.47.6 213, 285 4.48.1 213, 285 4.50.3 285 4.50.5 311 4.52.5 311 4.82.5 418 5.1.7 316 5.24.11 147, 285, 367 5.29.1–2 147, 285, 367 5.50.8 242 5.77.6 242 5.78.6 242 5.100.9 147, 285, 367 5.103.9–5.104.11 148, 312, 327, 366 5.104.1 276 5.104.1–2 149

5.104.6 276 5.104.10 149 5.105.5 372 5.107.5 302 6.14.8 260 9.28.2–3 413, 419 9.28.7 87, 322 9.32.1–9.39.7 148, 327 9.33.6 91, 340, 354, 361 9.35.4 107 9.36.3–4 137 9.39.2 146 9.39.3 145 9.42.5–8 146 10.15.4–8 146 10.25.2–5 147 10.34.6–7 261 10.35.1 261 11.4–6 148, 285, 327, 366 11.4.1–11.6.9 287 11.5.1 170 11.5.8 146 11.6.8 276 11.22 343 13.4.1–2 436 13.4–5 433 13.6 204 15.18.1–8 189 15.23.3 286, 287 15.23.6 433 15.24.2 357 15.24.4 137 16.24.9 429 16.26.6 168, 198 16.22a.6 242 16.24.9 429 16.27.1–3 167, 169, 176, 212 16.27.2 167, 168, 183, 360 16.33–35 167 16.34.1–6 176 16.34.3 168, 183, 360 16.34.3–4 161, 167, 169, 212, 212 16.34.5 183 16.35 176 16.35.1–2 188, 197, 313 16.38 313 18.1.4 174 18.1.13–14 169 18.1.14 161

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 18.2–3 169 18.11.4 169 18.11.4–7 157 18.11.7 169 18.11.11 169 18.11.13 157 18.12.1 164, 238 18.12.5 143 18.13.8–9 313 18.14.1–6 340 18.14.2–4 419 18.14.5–9 340 18.14.6 91 18.14.6–9 313 18.14.7 87, 322 18.14.15 340 18.36.3–5 162 18.37.4 169, 258 18.37.10 169, 258 18.37.12 169, 176, 258 18.38.3–5 250 18.38.4 260 18.38.4–5 250 18.38.4–9 256, 257 18.38.5 180 18.38.7–9 257 18.38.8–9 145 18.38.9 250 18.41.9 302 18.41a.2 158 18.42.1–8 172 18.42.2–4 202 18.42.3 192 18.42.4 179, 191 18.42.5 160, 172, 180, 192 18.42.6–7 175, 315 18.43 159 18.43.1 173, 174 18.43.3 174 (2) 18.43.6 162 18.43.8 173 18.43.8–9 300 18.43.9 329 18.44 188, 190, 196 18.44.1 173 18.44.1–2 157, 202 18.44.2 154, 191, 210, 230 18.44.2–4 158, 210 18.44.3 175, 180, 211

18.45.1–3 191 18.45.6 216 18.45.7 175, 180 18.45.7–12 175, 179 18.45.12 160, 313 18.46.5 154, 164, 211, 229, 230, 233, 274 18.46.15 154, 211, 229, 230 18.47.1 212 18.47.1–2 211, 212, 360 18.47.7 161 18.47.8 251 18.47.9 161 18.47.10 160 18.47.10–11 161 18.47.10–13 160, 180 18.48.4 220 18.50.1 212 18.50.6 219 18.50.8–9 220 18.51.2 216 18.51.3–7 220 18.51.9 215, 219 18.51.10 212 18.52.1–4 207, 367 18.52.1–5 197, 218 18.52.3 148, 212 18.54.6–11 435 18.54.8 435 18.54.8–12 433 20.8.1 216, 217 20.9.11 238 (2), 257 20.9.11–20.10.8 266 20.10.2 239 20.10.5 261 20.10.6 239 20.10.7 239 20.10.7–8 238, 260 20.10.14–15 345 21.1.1 315 21.2.4 238 21.2.5 270 21.4.5 223 21.4.10–13 238, 242, 266 21.4.11 264 21.4.13 264 21.5.3–6 264 21.6.1 364 21.6.2 217

j 491

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Polyb. (Continued) 21.13.1–3 223 21.13.3 170, 171, 197 21.14.1–2 170 21.14.2 190 21.16.8 277, 341 21.18.1 283 21.19.5 148, 283, 317, 367 21.19.5–9 198 21.19.9 284 21.21.10 198, 284 21.22.7 277 21.22.10 288 21.22.14 283, 363 21.23.4 277, 283, 341, 363 21.23.7 177, 179 21.23.7–12 148, 198, 283, 317, 367 21.23.10 277 (2) 21.24.6–9 231 21.24.16–17 283 21.25.6 242 21.25.10–11 239 21.29–31 239 21.30.1–5 239 21.32.2–14 239 21.32.13 145 21.42 197 21.42.4 189, 215 21.42.14 189, 215 21.42.16 287 21.42.24 189, 215 21.43.25 362 21.45.1–12 231, 283 21.45.2–3 231, 283 21.45.8 289 21.45.10 289 21.46.2–3 288 22.5.2–4 288 22.7.5–6 323 22.8.9–10 146 22.10.1–2 317 22.10.6 317, 363 22.10.10–12 318 22.11.5–22.12.10 323 22.17.1 242 22.17.4 242 22.17.5 242 22.18.1–3 189 23.1.10 80

23.2.1–11 337 23.3.4–9 337 23.4.1–8 321 23.4.1–14 323 23.4.3 318 23.4.8–16 321 23.4.12–13 321 23.4.14 318, 321 23.9.9–10 320 23.9.12–14 319 23.9.13 323 23.17.1–2 321, 322, 349 23.17.1–23.18.2 322 23.17.3–4 321 23.17.5–23.18.5 314 24.1.6–7 321 24.9.12–13 322 24.10.8 328 24.10.9 319 24.10.15 322 24.13 317 24.13.1–7 317 24.13.3 241 25.3.1 189, 290, 298 25.4.8–10 299 25.5.3 307 27.1.1 204 27.1.2 289, 362 27.1.3 324 (2) 27.1.8 289, 300, 324, 361 27.1.12 362 27.2.4–10 300 27.2.6–7 324 27.2.10 300, 324, 339, 345 27.2.11 325 27.2.12 289, 324 27.4.1 290 27.4.5 297 27.4.5–7 290 27.4.6–7 361 27.4.8–9 294 27.5.4–8 300 27.7.11 304 27.7.13 304 27.9–10 298 27.15.12–14 309 27.15.14 329 28.1.9 163 28.2.1–2 220

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 28.2.5 295 28.2.6 294 28.3.1–2 326 28.3.3–8 325 28.3.7 325 28.6.4–8 327, 328, 342 28.7.3–6 325 28.12.1–28.13.6 325 28.15.9 295 28.16.3–6 292 28.16.6–7 303 28.16.8 294 28.17.1 292 28.17.1–2 303 28.17.2–3 292 28.17.4 292, 294 28.17.4–5 292 28.17.5–8 294 28.17.10 292 28.17.14 294 28.17.14–15 293 29.4.7 297 (2), 303 29.4.9 302 29.4.9–10 298, 302 29.10.1–5 295, 367 29.11.2 294 29.19.1–2 304, 336, 338 29.19.1–3 303 29.19.2 304, 308 29.19.3–5 295 29.19.5–11 296 29.19.7 297 29.24.2 325 30.1–3 337 30.4 308 30.4.1 296 30.4.1–30.5.16 307 30.4.4 293 30.7.5 326 30.7.5–6 328 30.7.9–10 301 30.8–9 301 30.8.2 302 30.13.10 326, 328 30.16 160 30.20.7 161 30.21.3 286 30.27 152 30.28 189, 337

30.30.6 337 30.31.3 307 (2) 30.31.5–6 286 30.31.9 304, 307 (2), 336, 338 30.31.13 307 (2) 30.31.14 304 (2), 307 (2), 336, 338 30.31.20 188, 213, 304, 312, 336 31.1.6–8 330, 331 31.24.7 151 32.5.6–7 329 32.11.5 333 35.6.2 330 36.3.4–9 243, 261, 271 36.3.9 240 36.4.1–3 240, 261 36.4.1–4 271 36.4–5 241 36.5.5 238 38.3.9–11 346 38.9.1–3 336 38.9.1–8 332 38.9.5 336 38.9.6 335 38.10.4–13 336 38.10.9–13 319, 347 38.11.1–6 338 38.11.4–11 337 38.11.6 338 38.11.7–9 339 38.11.7–11 338, 339 38.11.9 345 38.11.11 344, 345 38.12.1 334, 344 38.12.1–11 344 38.12.2 345 38.12.2–3 344 38.12.2–11 339 38.12.4 345 38.12.5 345 38.12.8–38.13.3 345, 361, 367 38.12.10 345 38.12.11 346 38.12–13 346 38.13.6 345, 347 38.13.8 338, 345, 347 38.13.9 344 38.14.3 347

j 493

494 i Polyb. (Continued) 38.15.1–11 347 38.15.2–3 347 (2) 38.16.11 347 38.16.12 347 38.17.1 347 (2) 38.21–22 152 39.2–39.3.3 156 39.3.8 314 39.4.1–39.5.5 350 39.6.1 348 39.6.1–3 348 39.6.1–5 347 39.6.5 346 39.8 341 fr. 172 287 Ps.–Ascon. 187 (Stangl.)

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts Strabo 7.7.3, p. C 322 160, 278 8.5.5, p. C 365 227 8.6.23, p. C 381 336, 348 13.1.26, p. C 593 101, 127 14.1.22, p. C 641 98, 100 14.2.17, p. C 657 430 Suda s.v. Δημήτριος 117, 130 (2) s.v. κατεξαναστάντες 287 s.v. Kράτερος 121 Suet. Galba 3 259 Rhet. 25 163, 164 Vesp. 8 247 442

Quintil. Decl. min. 329.1 280 339.10 91, 361 Sall. Cat. 2 372 19.5 438 51.5 308 Hist. 1.11 245 Iug. 14.5 273 33.4 263 71.5 438 Schol. Aeschin. 3.83 86 Schol. Dem. 1.22 413, 415 18.89 355 Schol. Hegesipp. ad [Dem.] 7.18 408 7.24 408 Sen. Dial. 1.4.14 368 11.15.1 368 Serv. ad Aen. 3.20 228 4.628 189 Sext. Emp. Adv.gramm. 293 134 Sil. Ital. Pun. 1.5 245 Soph. Antig. 821–822 63 Stat. Silv. 3.3.110 438

Tac. Ann. 4.43.1–3 331 4.56 182, 249 11.24 245 12.31.7 245 Agr. 3.1 375 Hist. 4.25 372 4.67 371, 374 Ter. Eunuch. 886 438 1039 438 Thuc. 1.35.1–5 22 1.40.2 22 1.40.5 18 1.41.2 18 1.43.1 18 1.43.1–4 18 1.47.2 16 1.58.1 17, 18 1.67.2 16, 17, 19, 24, 87, 361 1.69.1 19 (3), 21 (3), 361 1.84.1 18 1.97.1 19 1.115.1 22 1.115.1–2 16 1.124.1 19, 21, 23 1.124.3 21, 361 1.132.4 18 1.138.5 428

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 1.139.1 18, 19, 361 1.139.1–3 16 1.139.3 19, 22 1.140.2 410 1.140.3 20 1.144.2 16, 20, 361 2.8.4 15, 21 2.29.3 20 2.36.1 18 2.37.2 18 2.40.5 18 2.62.3 18 2.63.1 18 2.63.3 21 2.65.8 18 2.71.2 19, 407 (2) 2.72.1 21, 23 2.78.4 18 2.96.1–2 20 2.98.3–4 20 2.101.3 20 2.103.1 18 3.10.4 19, 21 3.10.4–6 20 3.10–13 19 3.11.1–3 20 3.13.1 21, 23 3.13.7 21, 23 3.32.2 15, 21 3.39.2 20, 21 3.39.7 21 (2) 3.46.5–6 21 3.52.2 256 3.54.4 19 3.59.4 15, 21, 241 3.62.5 18 3.63.3 21 3.68.5 241 3.71.1 18 3.73.1 18 3.94.4–5 84 3.107.2 84 3.109.1 84 3.111.3 84 4.26.5 18 4.52.3 18 4.64.5 18 4.80.3 18 4.85.1 23

4.85.1–4.87.6 15 4.85.6 23 4.86.1 20, 23 4.87.2 23 4.87.5 23 4.87.6 23 4.88.1 20 4.91 40 4.92.7 18, 19 4.95.3 18, 19 4.108.2 23 4.114.3 23 4.118.7 18 4.120.3 23 4.121.1 23 5.9.1 18 5.9.9 21 (2) 5.9.10 23 5.17.2 256 5.18.1–9 22, 397, 428 5.18.5 22, 229 5.27.2 19 5.29.1 25 5.30.2 31 5.31.3–4 25 5.31.5 22, 31, 410 5.33.3 25 5.34.1 18 5.38.1–2 251 5.77.2 24 5.77.5 24 5.77.7 24, 410 5.79.1 24, 407 (2), 410 5.79.2 407 5.81.1 25 (2) 5.83.2 18 5.99.1 18 5.112.2 18 6.20.2 18 6.40.2 18 6.57.1 18 6.69.3 18, 19 6.76.4 18, 21 6.77.1 20 6.85.1 21 6.85.2 19, 38, 383 6.87.2 18 6.88.4 20 6.89.6 18

j 495

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Thuc. (Continued) 7.28.4 415, 416 7.56.2 21 7.57.3 38 7.57.3–4 19 7.57.7 19 7.63.4 18 7.66.2 21 7.68.3 18 7.69.2 18 8.18.1 407 8.21.1 21 8.28.4 18 8.37.1 407 8.43.3 19 8.45.4 18 8.46.3–4 18 8.48.5 23 8.52.1 18 8.58.1–2 407 8.58.2 410 8.58.2–3 25 8.62.2 18 8.64.3 18 8.64.4–5 23 8.71.1 18 8.73.5 18 8.84.2 18 8.91.3 21 TLL 679.13 163 Val. Max. 4.1.7 442, 443 4.8.5 154, 164, 181, 211 (2), 229 (2), 274 6.5.1 281 7.2.60 245 8.1.2 259, 260, 268 9.6.2 260, 268 9.11.6 438 Vell. 1.9.2 308 1.9.5 261 1.12.6 245 Vir. Ill. 60.1 347 (2) 60.2 348 Virg. Aen. 6.851–853 371 Xen. Ages.

2.29 58, 59 3.1–4 242 Anab. 1.4.9 428 2.4.27 428, 429 Hellen. 2.2.23 15 2.3.28 241 2.4.30 31 3.2.21–31 25, 118, 361 3.2.25 52 3.4.5 28 3.4.25 229, 352, 428 3.5.5 31 4.2.16 52 4.2.17 26 4.3.15 26 4.8.1 229, 352 4.8.12–15 26 4.8.14 26 5.1.13–24 35 5.1.26–28 396 5.1.31 27, 30, 56, 60, 352, 392, 393, 401, 406, 408, 409 (2) 5.1.34–36 30 5.1.35 45, 56, 409 (2) 5.1.36 30, 393, 394 5.1.96 30 5.2–3 29 5.2.7 47 5.2.11–19 33 5.2.12–13 33 5.2.15 32, 382 5.2.16 30, 33 5.2.25–31 30, 388 5.2.32 32 5.2.35 30 5.3.11 31 5.4.1 30 5.4.2–9 39 5.4.9 33 5.4.14–18 39 5.4.19 33 5.4.34 35, 382, 384 5.4.36 39 5.4.46 39 6.1.1 39 6.2.1 42, 44, 57, 387 6.3.1–19 57

Index of Ancient Authors and Texts 6.3.2 57, 384, 387 6.3.7–9 30, 31 (2), 46, 118, 279 6.3.9 30 6.3.12 26, 53, 56 6.3.18 45 (2), 53, 60, 353, 392 (2), 393 6.3.19 43, 45, 58, 388, 395, 405 6.3.19–20 45, 387 6.4.1 58 6.4.3 47 6.4.18 395 6.4.20–32 389 6.4.33–35 414 6.4.35–37 415 6.5.1 49 (2), 390, 405 6.5.2 50, 54, 66, 76, 88, 396 6.5.2–3 52 6.5.3 29, 47, 51, 86, 396 6.5.3–5 396 6.5.5 29, 86, 393 6.5.6 48 6.5.6–9 30, 85 6.5.10–11 29, 85, 86, 393 6.5.11 85 (2) 6.5.19–20 389 6.5.22 48 6.5.22–25 47 6.5.22–32 389 6.5.23 390 6.5.33 390, 392 6.5.33–36 47 6.5.33–48 397 6.5.33–49 389 6.5.36 391

j 497

6.5.37 48, 392 6.5.44 392 7.1.1 393, 403 7.1.1–14 382, 397 7.1.14 43, 49, 393, 403 7.1.20 396 7.1.26 58 7.1.27 54, 57, 58, 396 7.1.28 396 7.1.33 49 (2) 7.1.33–38 399 7.1.35–36 58 7.1.36 49 (2), 62 7.1.36–37 404 7.1.38 48 7.1.39–40 49 (2), 53, 393, 399 (2) 7.1.40 390 7.1.43 48, 279 7.4.2–11 59 7.4.6–11 399, 400 7.4.10 353, 401 (2), 408 7.5.1–3 86 7.5.1–5 85, 395 7.5.1–6 85 Poroi 5.7 382 Zonar. 8.19.7 9.22 9.31.1 9.31.2 9.31.3

184 290 329 344, 347 (2) 347, 350

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index of names and subjects

i Famous personalities, including Roman emperors, are referred to by their most well-known name. Roman citizens are listed by their nomen, where available. The Greeks, other than Roman citizens, are mentioned by their first name. Abroupolis 188, 189 Abydus 153, 166, 167, 183, 210, 313, 429 See also “Alexander III (the Great)” Acanthus 20, 32 Acarnania; the Acarnanians 32, 44, 84, 136, 254, 390 Achaea; the Achaeans 22, 32 the Achaean League 4, 11, 313–350 the general assembly 318, 325, 333, 339, 344, 346, 347 and Messenia 315–317, 319–323, 325, 327, 332, 348, 361, 363 and Sparta 83, 137, 209, 314–324, 330, 332, 334–337, 344, 347, 348, 361 the composition and organization of 82, 108, 160, 318, 320, 321, 325, 335, 344 the divided Achaean leadership 316–317, 324, 329 and Antigonos Doson; see “Antigonos Doson” and Athens 38, 60, 332–333

and Elatea 269 and the Lamian war 108 and Nabis; see “Nabis” and the Peloponnese 171, 314, 323 and Perseus; see “Perseus” and Philip II; see “Philip II” and Philip V; see “Philip V” and Rhodes 313, 336 and Rome alliance with 171, 299, 300, 313, 315, 319, 320, 325 furthering the division inside the Achaean League 315–350 hostages taken to Italy and returned later 324, 326–330 in the Roman war against Antiochos III and the Aetolians 314, 318 in the settlement after the Roman victory over Antiochos III 154, 160 purges after the Third Macedonian war 324, 329

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Achaea; the Achaeans (Continued) Roman interference in the form of arbitration 315–350 Roman push to dissolve the League 331–332, 334–335, 349 Roman war against the Achaeans (in 146) 11, 156, 341, 344–348 sack of Corinth; see “Corinth; the Corinthians” and Thebes 47–48, 86, 108, 279 defense of Greek freedom 315, 316, 318, 322, 327–328, 342, 345–347 See also “Aegium,” “Aurelius Orestes, L.,” “Caecilius Metellus (Macedonicus), Q.,” “Callicrates,” “Philip II,” “Porcius Cato, M.” “Philopoemen,” “Phthiotian Achaea,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans,” “Sulpicius Gallus, C.” Acilius Glabrio, M’. 238, 269 Ada (noble woman from Caria) 430 Adscriptio, adscripti 177, 178, 182–185, 187–190, 193–196, 199, 203, 240, 251–252, 311, 319 alleged Greek equivalents of 193, 194 See also “Lampsacus; the Lampsaceni,” “Philip V: peace treaty (first: the “peace of Phoenice”),” “Philip V: peace treaty (second)” Aegina; the Aeginatans 16, 17, 24, 87, 99, 146, 160 Aegium 118, 316, 147, 418. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “the Achaean League” Aelian 427, 428 Aemilius Lepidus, M. 167, 232 Aemilius Paullus, L. 152, 164, 293, 295 and Perseus 261, 295 his alleged patronage of the Macedonians 444 his treatment of Epirus 159–160, 278 See also “Perseus,” “Rhodes; the Rhodians” Aeschines 73, 79, 83, 90, 108, 383, 402–405, 422 Aetolia; the Aetolians the Aetolian League 64, 81, 83, 174 and Antiochos III 209, 216–217, 223, 361, 418–419 and Nabis 208–209, 314 and Philip V

conferences aimed at their reconciliation 147, 148, 312, 313, 366 military conflicts with 137–138, 168, 198 peace with 147, 242 Rhodian mediation between 147, 285 and Rome after the Second Macedonian war 162, 169, 206–208, 210, 274, 361, 366–367 debate at Tempe; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” hostages taken to Italy 309, 329 negotiations on surrendering into Roman fides 237–243, 260, 261, 263 264–266, 270, 281 treaty with Rome (211) content 146, 186, 212, 250–256 dating 145–146, 183 its interpretations after 206 250–256, 257, 308 treaty with Rome (189) 186, 441 as a member of the Achaean League 331, 332 defense of Greek freedom 169–170, 217, 345, 366, 373 See also “Antiochos III (Megas),” “Chalcis; the Chalcidians,” “Deditio,” “Fides,” “Philip II,” “Philip V,” “Quinctius Flamininus, T.,” “Rome (state); the Romans” Africa 163, 238, 242, 266, 435 Agathocles of Cyzicus 244, 249 Agelaos speech at Naupactus 148–151, 276, 312, 327, 366. See also “Lyciscos,” “Thrasicrates” Agesilaos 21, 26, 28, 30, 45, 46, 58, 242, 396 Agis III 83, 90, 93, 95, 418, 419, 421–423. See also “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Agron 145 Alcaeos 159 Alexander III (the Great) the Exiles Decree 80, 91, 105, 113–114, 423–426, 431 and individual cities 80, 82, 83, 87, 88, 90, 92, 96–98, 100, 101–102, 104–106, 111, 113, 124, 127, 229, 232, 355, 356, 425–426, 427–432 Abydus 429 Amyzon 106

Index of Names and Subjects Aspendus 99, 100, 101, 103, 106, 428 Athens 80, 103, 107–108, 422–426 Chios 95, 106 Colophon 105, 106, 124, 127, 429, 430 Ephesus 97, 99, 100, 102–104, 106, 428, 430, 431 Erythrae 97, 101, 105, 134, 430 Ilium 100, 101, 127 Lampsacus 429 Magnesia on the Maeander 429 Methymna 422 Miletus 105, 106, 429 Mytilene 93, 94, 96, 140, 361 Orchomenus 80, 81, 92 Plataea 80, 81, 92 Priene 97, 98, 99, 101, 102, 126, 134, 430 Rhodes 103, 104, 106 Sardis 99, 101, 102, 104, 429 Soli 99, 101, 103 Sparta 77, 93, 95, 104, 422–423 Tenedus 93, 94, 96, 140, 361 Teos 429, 430 Thebes 50, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91–92, 94, 95, 137, 421, 426 Thespiae 80, 81, 92 and the League of Corinth 90–93, 95–96, 99, 110, 111, 136, 137, 229 and the slogan of freedom against the Persians 50, 91, 93, 94, 96, 140, 361, 431 with respect to the Greeks 81–82, 91–92, 93–98, 111, 112, 355, 368 and the Thessalians 90, 414, 416, 417 his gift to Phocion 99, 100, 427–429 as a reflection of this practice in Egypt and Persia 428 See also “Demosthenes,” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Gaugamelae, battle of,” “Harpalos,” “Phocion,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans,” “The syntaxis,” “Thebes (city, state; in Boeotia); the Thebans,” “War: the Lamian war” Alexander IV 115, 120, 127, 129, 140 Alexander of Pherae 414–415 Alexander the Molossian 152, 418 Alexandria Troas 170, 190, 197, 223, 242 Ambracia 68, 232

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Ampelius, L. 438 The Amphictyons (at Delphi) 277, 289 See also “Philip II” Amphipolis 61, 69, 241, 390, 396, 402–406 Amphissa 417 Amphoteros 423 Amyntas III 32, 33, 402, 404 Amyntas (an alleged pretender) 93, 414 Amyzon; see “Alexander III (the Great)” Andocides 56, 59, 66, 137, 177, 407 Andriscos 334, 348 Andros 106, 130, 146, 287, 383 The “annalistic tradition” 162, 177, 179, 184, 185, 188, 230, 255, 296, 297, 304–306, 308, 309. See also “Historiography, Roman on,” “Livy” Antalcidas 26. See also. “Treaties of Peace: the King’s Peace” Anticyra 146 Antigonos (the One-Eyed) 97, 101, 105, 112, 115, 118–120, 122, 128–130, 131, 134, 139, 140, 197 and the treaty of 311 120–122, 128 the Hellenic League 123, 132, 133, 136, 140 his declaration of Greek freedom; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” his relations with Scepsis 123–125 See also “Demetrios (Poliorcetes),” “Seleucos,” “The slogan of freedom,” “Treaties of Peace” Antigonos Doson 135, 136, 137, 178, 279, 418 his use of the slogan of freedom 137, 229, 290 See also “League: the Symmachy,” “The slogan of freedom” Antigonos Gonatas 157, 159 Antiochos I (Soter) 125, 134, 231, 275 Antiochos II (Theos) 97, 99, 101, 103, 105, 123, 125, 134, 135, 231, 276, 429 Antiochos III (Megas) advance from the east after the battle of Cynoscephalae 158, 161, 170, 197, 200, 206, 210–212, 286, 356, 365 alleged secret pact with Philip V 436 and the Aetolians 209, 216–217, 223, 251, 252, 254, 277, 314, 361, 370, 418 and individual Greek cities Iasus 216, 275 Lampsacus with Smyrna 148, 170, 190, 197, 207, 212, 213, 215, 223

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Antiochos III (Megas) (Continued) Lysimachea 138, 148 Teos 135, 139, 215, 275, 434 and the Ptolemies 191, 212, 215 and the Romans conference in Ephesus 222–223 conference in Lysimachea 148, 207, 212–213, 215, 218, 221 conference in Rome 171, 214, 216–222, 359, 373 defeated by the Romans 177, 179, 190, 197, 198, 228, 276, 337 “friend and ally” of Rome 187, 188, 220–221 the postwar arrangement (the “Apamean settlement”) 138, 188, 189, 197, 215, 234, 282, 362 proposals of alliance 188, 220–222 as the champion of Greek freedom 138–139, 215–217, 300, 361 claim for western Asia Minor and “Europe” 158, 170, 210, 214 See also “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Rome (state); the Romans” Antiochos IV (Epiphanes) 292, 298, 302. See also “War: Syrian war, the Sixth” Antipater 82, 93, 104, 112, 113, 115, 424, 425 his position as the protector of Greek freedom 93, 95, 114, 139, 140, 355 his use of the slogan of freedom 95, 112–113, 139 Antissa 87 Antoninus Pius 367 Antony (Mark Antony) 280, 374, 375 Aous; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.: negotiations with Philip V” the “Apamean settlement”; see “Antiochos III (Megas)” Aphrodisias 123, 280, 365–366 Apollodoros 43 Apollonia 32, 244, 249 Appian 135, 147, 153, 158, 170, 183, 189, 194, 210, 217–219, 252, 259, 268, 292, 345, 418 Apuleius, L. 438 Arcadia; the Arcadians 25, 32, 38, 47, 58, 60, 69, 80, 82, 83, 85, 92, 108, 109, 136, 269, 342, 389, 390, 395, 420. See also “League: the Arcadian League,”

“Mantinea,” “Megalopolis,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” The Arche (Athenian) 19, 383. See also “Athens (city, state); the Athenians,” “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy” Archidamos 18, 23, 24, 393, 394, 401. See also “Isocrates” Archon 299, 300, 325, 328. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Argos; the Argives 24, 26, 30, 56, 84, 87, 107, 163, 201, 203, 204, 207, 230, 271, 276, 319, 320, 322, 323, 325, 330, 331, 333, 334, 388, 390, 407, 420. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “Nabis,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Aristodemos 118 Aristotle, the decree of 36–39, 51, 57, 229, 352, 353, 385, 387, 388, 389, 408–410. See also “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy” Aristotle (the philosopher) 106, 383, 414 Aristonicos of Methymna 422 the pretender 362 Arrian 75, 81, 83, 93, 94, 96, 100, 103, 422, 423, 431 Arrhidaeos 117, 123 Artaxerxes II 26, 27, 41, 57, 58, 94, 229, 352, 428. See also “Treaties of Peace: the King’s Peace” Asander 112, 118–119, 128 Aspendus; see “Alexander III (the Great)” Athenaeos 217 Athena Ilias, cult of 126 Athena Polias, temple of 98, 99 Athens (city, state); the Athenians and the Aetolians 208, 239, 252 and Hellenistic rulers 114, 119, 130–132, 183 and her allies 16–20, 23, 24, 36–38, 43, 45, 51, 61, 78, 87, 91, 107, 351, 352, 382–384, 390, 409–410, 415–416 and Mantinea 29, 388, 389 and Mytilene 20, 21 and Persia 27, 56, 408 and Philip II 56, 67–73, 80, 81, 133 and Samos 17, 18, 80, 383, 406, 424, 426 and Sparta 15, 16, 19, 20, 22, 35, 36, 41–43, 48–50, 56, 57, 88, 136, 196, 216, 229,

Index of Names and Subjects 351–353, 361, 382, 389–390, 391–397, 421–422 and Thebes 18–21, 33, 35, 39, 40, 44, 47, 72, 108, 381–390, 394–395 and Rome 152, 160, 161, 183, 184, 207–208, 239, 252, 332–333 and the “peace of Phoenice” 177, 184 as a mediator for the Aetolians 239 her alleged appeal to Rome 183 in the Lamian war 80, 107, 208 the use of the slogan of freedom 41, 44 See also “Amphipolis,” “The Arche (Athenian),” “Autonomy (autonomia),” “Demetrios (Poliorcetes),” “War: the Lamian war,” “Oropus,” “Philip V,” “The Piraeus,” “Plataea,” “Samos,” “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy,” “Sicyon,” “Treaties of alliance, between,” “Treaties of Peace: the Athens Peace of 371” Atilius Calatinus, A. 246, 247 Attalos I (Soter) 160, 168, 184, 187, 188, 198, 205, 241, 242, 285, 288, 302, 337 Attalos III (Philometor Euergetes) 282 Attalos (younger son of Attalos I) 337 Augustus 235, 367–369, 371, 374, 375, 376 the pax Augusta 369, 376, 377 the Res Gestae 374, 376 Aurelius Orestes, L. 332, 334–337. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Autonomy (autonomia) and “democracy” (in grants to individual cities) 135, 182, 231 and freedom 3–7, 10, 16, 18, 23–25, 32, 63, 65, 76, 98, 111, 119, 125, 126, 194–195, 230–231, 279 and tribute 22, 97, 99, 101, 103, 228, 269, 288, 352, 364 as the status of allies 17–21, 23–25, 65, 87, 88, 195, 383 in the League of Corinth 88–90, 109, 194 in the Second Athenian Confederacy 38, 76, 77, 194 in the status of individual cities 25, 46–47, 63–64, 87, 231, 356, 407 under Alexander the Great 98–106, 134, 427–432

j 503

under Hellenistic rulers 101, 103, 105, 106, 114–120, 122–123, 125–127, 134, 138, 215, 231, 275, 288, 356–357 under the Romans 189, 195, 211, 212, 219, 230, 279, 358–359, 364 the definition of 3–4, 6–7, 23–25, 66, 98, 230 the slogan of autonomy used at the negotiations in 392 26 by Agesilaos againt Persia 28 by Athens against Sparta 35–36, 41, 395, 396 by Demetrios against Cassander 131 by the Lycians against Rhodes 307 by Polyperchon in the Peloponnese 114 by Rhodes against Eumenes II 288 by Rome against the Achaean League 350 by Rome against Rhodes 337 by Rome against Thebes 324 by Sparta against Arcadia 30 by Sparta against Argos 30 by Sparta against Athens 16, 19, 20, 24, 28, 208, 228 by Sparta against Elaea 25, 52, 118 by Sparta against Mantinea 29, 31, 86 by Sparta against Thebes 21, 29–31, 46–47, 57–58, 109, 118 by Thebes against Sparta 46, 47, 58, 86, 118 in the King’s Peace 27–32, 51–52, 54, 56, 61, 75, 88, 93, 352, 394, 407–410 in negotiations and treaties of Peace 26, 41, 44, 51–52, 54, 56, 57, 61, 62, 64, 65, 72, 76–78, 88, 120, 127–128, 195, 388, 392, 396, 400 in the peace of Philocrates 72–73 the so-called general autonomy clause 16–18, 22, 25, 28 See also “Athens (city, state); the Athenians,” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “League: the League of Corinth,” “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Bargylia 153, 210 The Boeotian Federation; the Boeotians and the Macedonians 80, 81, 82, 84, 87, 92, 95, 109, 118, 139, 289, 300, 324, 328, 339, 345 and the Romans 159, 173, 174, 289, 300, 324, 329, 350, 362, 417 and the Spartans 29–31, 33, 57–58, 109

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Index of Names and Subjects

The Boeotian Federation (Continued) and the Thebans 26, 30, 34, 39–40, 44–47, 58, 62, 81, 82, 92, 108, 109, 139, 300, 385, 388, 396 the boeotarchs, election of 81, 173–174, 385 See also “Athens (city, state); the Athenians,” “Brachylles,” “Perseus,” “Philip II,” “Rome (state); the Romans” Brachylles 159, 300, 329 Brasidas 15, 20, 21. 23 Byzantium; the Byzantines 34, 36, 37, 38, 73, 123, 213, 285, 311, 382, 390, 429. See also “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy,” “Rhodes; the Rhodians,” “Treaties of alliance, between” Buduica 373 The Cadmea occupied by the Spartans 30, 34, 46, 388, 395 freed by the Thebans 33, 81, 384–385 See also “Phoebidas” Caecilius Metellus (Macedonicus), Q. 317, 318, 322, 323, 334, 344, 346, 347. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Callicrates 299, 322, 326, 328–331. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Camillus; see “Furius Camillus, M.” Campania; the Campanians 260–261, 268, 272 Cappadocia; the Cappadocians 121 Capua; the Capuans 238, 260–261, 272 Caria; the Carians 100, 101, 112, 118, 160, 430. See also “Rhodes; the Rhodians” Carthage; the Carthaginians and Rome 148–149, 151, 152, 156–157, 166, 183, 186–189, 193, 195, 214, 221, 238, 240, 243, 245, 253, 260, 261, 262, 270–271, 280, 343 and Syracuse 236 and Tarentum 237 See also “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Treaties of peace” Carthago Nova 146, 151 Carystus 160, 261 Cassander 87, 113, 115, 119, 120, 121, 128–131, 133, 140, 355 the refoundation of Thebes (and of the Boeotian Federation) 108, 118, 139, 140 See also “The slogan of freedom” Cassius Dio 344, 367 Caunus 286

Cephalos 309 Chaeronea, battle of; see “Philip II” Chalcis; the Chalcidians and Rome 251, 278, 346, 365 failed negotations with the Aetolians 217, 251, 277, 370 treaty with Athens 32, 34, 382, 390 See also “The ‘fetters,’” “League: the Chalcidian League” Charops 309 The Chersonese 68, 402–406 Chios; the Chians and the Romans 233, 278 and the Second Athenian Confederacy 34–38, 382, 383 and Thebes 390 treaty with Athens 32, 34, 37–38, 64, 352, 382, 383, 395, 409 under the Successors 106 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy” Chyretiae; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Cibyra 123, 246 Cicero, Marcus T. 164, 234, 235, 246, 263, 271, 272, 370–372, 374, 376, 438–440 Cilicia 101, 128, 285, 287, 430 civitas libera; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” Clazomenae 27 Claudius Marcellus, M. 159, 163, 172–173, 179, 234. See also “Syracuse,” “Tarentum” Clauidus Pulcher, Appius 318, 321, 323, 336 Clientela and client-patron relationship 277, 364, 437–439 and foreign clientela (in the Greek east) 277, 364, 440–444 and the “patronage by conquest” 442, 444 and Roman patrons of Greek cities 440–442 as not established by deditio alone 265, 271, 315, 437, 444 as not equal to fides alone 271, 276, 437–438, 444 See also “Claudius Marcellus, M.,” “Deditio,” “Fides,” “Patrocinium,” “Syracuse” Cnidus 106 Collatia 163, 228, 260, 261 Colophon 105, 106, 124–125, 127, 429, 430 and Rome 270, 278 See also “Alexander III (the Great)”

Index of Names and Subjects The “common peace” (koine eirene) 5, 50, 54–55, 62, 66, 76, 129, 408 and military alliances 59, 60, 74, 75, 132 and Rhodes 129, 133, 134 the definition of 5, 54–55, 58–59, 66, 70–71, 72, 76, 78, 129, 401 in Diodoros 56–59, 129, 133, 134, 400, 406 in Polybios 136–137 the modern understanding of 51, 54–56, 58, 59, 70–71, 123, 177–178, 377, 394, 401, 402 of 362–361 59, 60, 62, 401, 406 of 366–365 58–59, 400, 401, 402, 404, 405, 406, 408 of the King’s Peace 27, 55, 56, 57, 59, 66, 76, 177, 401 of the (failed) Peace of 367 53, 58 of the Macedonian Peace 73, 74, 75, 78, 87 of the Peace of 375 402 of the peace of Philocrates 68, 71 of the Second Athenian Confederacy 38 of the Sparta Peace of 371 58 of the treaty of 311 122, 129 See also “Diodoros (the Sicilian),” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Safety (soteria),” “Treaties of peace,” “Treaties of Peace,” “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Conon 352 Corcyra 18, 44, 145, 244, 249, 260 Corinth; the Corinthians and Argos 26, 30 and Athens 107 and Hellenistic rulers 130, 131, 418 and Rome 154, 160, 313, 319, 334 negotiations after Philip’s defeat 171, 175, 180, 181 participation in the Isthmian games 157 sacked by the Romans 4, 5, 11, 156, 157, 276, 326, 348, 350 ultimatum to Antiochos’s envoys 212 and Sparta; see “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” and Thebes; see “Thebes (city, state; in Boeotia); the Thebans” conference of the Greeks and Romans against Nabis; see “Rome (state); the Romans” Flamininus’s declaration at; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” Philip V’s declaration 137, 138

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Ptolemy (I)’s declaration 116–117, 130 See also “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “The ‘fetters,’” “The Isthmian games,” “Mummius, L.,” “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Coronea 189, 298, 300, 301 Cornelius Lentulus, P. 324 Cornelius Lentulus, S. 324 Cornelius Nepos 41, 42 Cornelius Scipio, L. 263 Cornelius Scipio, L. and P. 283 their letter to Heraclea by Latmus 9, 230, 231–232, 233, 234, 240, 242, 266, 270, 364, 365, 370, 444 their negotiations with the Aetolians 238, 263, 266, 270 Cornelius Scipio, P. 236, 238, 242, 266, 270, 281 Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus Africanus, P. 152 Cornelius Scipio Africanus Maior, P. 151 Cornelius Sulla, L. 280 Cos 106, 163, 301, 363 and Hippocritus and Diomedon 301 Crete; the Cretans 423, 424, 433. See also “Rhodes; the Rhodians,” “War: the Cretan war” Critolaos 319, 326, 327, 338, 339, 344–347, 361, 367. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” The Crocus Field, the battle of 411, 412 Curtius Rufus, Q. 422, 423 Cynoscephalae; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Cyprus 27 Cyrus (the Great) 428 Cyrus the Younger 26 Cyzicus 105, 117, 123, 244, 428 Darius III 75, 93, 94, 423, 431 Datames 53 Deditio and the status/treatment of the dediticii 235, 243, 245–249, 253–254, 255, 260–263, 264, 268, 273, 315, 365, 437, 439 as a prearranged surrender 237, 268–270, 273, 281, 364, 444 deditio in fidem 228, 235, 237–241, 253–254, 257, 258–263, 263–268, 270, 273, 280–281, 364–365, 439, 441, 444 followed by the maltreatment of the dediticii 258, 268, 437, 439 the Ligurians 258–260, 262, 268, 437 the Lusitanians 259–260, 262, 268, 437

506 i

Index of Names and Subjects

Deditio (Continued) See also “Aetolia; the Aetolians,” “Clientela,” “Fides,” “Historiography, Roman,” “Patrocinium,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Syracuse,” “Tarentum” Delos 80, 126, 160, 163, 204, 284, 287, 289 Delphi 152, 153, 163, 164, 269, 270, 289, 348, 434, 444. See also “The Amphyctions (at Delphi)” Demades 422 The “demilitarization clause”; see “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Demetrias (one of the “fetters”) 157, 161, 180, 207, 217, 223. See also “The ‘fetters’” Demetrios of Illyria 149, 219 Demetrios (Poliorcetes) 103, 120, 123, 129, 130, 132, 140 and Rhodes 103, 104, 106, 129, 284 using the slogan of Greek freedom 103, 130, 131, 133 See also “Autonomy (autonomia),” “The slogan of freedom” Demetrios, son of Philip V; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Demokratia (“democracy”) 134, 135, 182, 231, 430, 431 Demodamas 106 Demosthenes 60, 69, 70, 73, 79–81, 90, 94, 108, 384, 402–405, 414, 415–417, 419, 420 and Alexander III (the Great) 94, 104, 421–426 and the “Harpalos’s affair”; see “Harpalos” and his list of the “betrayers of Greece” 420 and the revolt of the Thebans 426 and the Spartan revolt led by Agis III; see “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” as the leader of the “sacred embassy” to Olympia 424–425 on Philip in Thessaly 79, 90, 414–417, 419 See also “Agis III,” “Alexander III (the Great),” “Hyperides” Diaios 319, 334, 347. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Dicaearchos 285, 286, 433–436 Dinarchos 83, 92, 425 Dio Chrysostom 342, 344, 367 Diodoros (the Sicilian) 33, 35, 36, 38, 39, 41, 56–57, 84, 92–94, 97, 98, 104, 107,

108, 118, 119, 155, 170, 189, 204, 210, 217, 218, 284, 391, 405, 406, 409, 413–416, 435, 436 on Antigonos and Demetrios 115, 117, 119, 120, 128–131 on Flamininus’s speech to Greek representatives in 193 on koine eirene 52, 55–57, 58–59, 60, 61, 129, 133–134, 137, 400, 405, 406 on the Peace of 375 41–43, 44–45, 52, 57, 393, 403 on the (failed) Peace of 367 52, 54, 57, 58, 399–406 on Polyperchon 113, 114 on Ptolemy (I) 128, 129, 130 on Rhodes 308 on Roman negotiations with Antiochos III 217–219 on Roman negotiations with Philip V 153, 168–169, 170, 230 on the Second Athenian Confederacy 35–37, 39, 42, 381–382, 385, 386 on the Sparta Peace of 371 45, 58, 402–403 on Thebes 33, 35, 37, 42, 39, 58, 92, 384, 386, 393 See also “Treaties of Peace” Diodotos 21 Diomedon 301 Dionysios I of Sicily 391, 395, 396 Dionysios of Halicarnassus 244, 395, 403 Diophanes of Megalopolis 316–318, 329. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Discretion; see “Fides” Dyme 276, 350 Edeco 261 Egypt 102, 112, 119, 120, 127, 128, 130, 133, 161, 242, 284, 294, 422, 423, 428, 436 Elatea (in Phocis) 147, 173, 174, 175, 180, 269, 271 Elis; the Elaeans 25, 60, 69, 70, 83, 119, 209, 323, 324, 325, 388 and Arcadia 58, 60 and Athens 51, 60, 388 and Sparta 24–25, 52, 83, 361 See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Emperor 365, 366, 369, 374 as “champion of freedom” 371, 374–375, 377 Epaminondas 47, 396 as “champion of Greek freedom” 50

Index of Names and Subjects his argument over autonomia against Agesilaus 21, 46 Ephesus 171, 222, 362 and Rome 158, 362, 367 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Hegesias” Ephoros 42, 56–57, 59 Epidaurus; the Epidaurians 24, 85, 402 Epirus; the Epirotes 68, 136, 418 and Rome 152, 153, 159–160, 177, 261, 278, 309, 329 See also “Aemilius Paullus, L.,” “Alexander the Molossian,” “Pyrrhos,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Eressus 87–88 Eretria 38, 160, 180, 390 Erythrae and Alexander the Great 97, 99, 101, 105, 134, 430 and Hellenistic rulers 97, 99, 101, 105, 125, 134 See also “Alexander III (the Great)” Euboea; the Euboeans 31, 68, 70, 154, 160, 180, 346, 390 Eumenes II 160, 205, 275, 277, 283, 324, 330, 337 against the Rhodians 177, 198, 283–288, 317 and Perseus 188, 294, 298–299, 302 Eunoia; see “Loyalty (eunoia)” Euromus 153, 210 Fabius Maximus, Q. 152, 276, 350 Fabricius Luscinus, C. 442 The “fetters” (Chalcis, Corinth, Demetrias) 157, 161, 162, 168, 180, 201, 207, 223, 365 Fides and “loyalty” 245–246, 278 and Numa 244, 246 as discretion of Roman officials 163–165, 180, 181, 192, 202, 206, 268, 271–272, 274, 290 as observance of agreements 243, 245, 266, 272 bona fides 266–267, 280, 439 changing Roman attitude to 262–263, 265, 266, 270, 280–281, 437 fides publica 244–246 fides punica 240 fides socialis 187, 240, 262 and the Greek slogan of freedom 262, 274, 280

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and patron-client relations 265, 277–278, 280, 437–444 misinterpreted as pistis by the Greeks 164, 237, 241, 365 the Aetolians; see “Aetolia; the Aetolians” the Locrians 244, 247–249 Nabis 240, 241 misinterpreted by the Carthaginians 240–241 misinterpreted by the Lusitanians 259 modern (mis-)interpretations of 239–240, 241, 243–260, 365 pistis 238–242, 249, 257–258, 365 reinterpreted by the Romans 271–274 surrendering in fidem 235, 236, 318 the temple of Fides; see “Rome (city)” toward Roman allies and dediticii 235, 238, 240, 241, 243, 245, 246, 249–250, 254, 257, 259–263, 265–268, 271–272, 280–281, 321, 439 See also “Clientela,” “Deditio,” “Historiography, Roman,” “Loyalty (eunoia),” “Patrocinium,” “Quinctius Flamininus, T.: negotiations with the Aetolians at Tempe,” “Rome (state); the Romans” Flamininus, see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Florus, L. Annaeus 244, 346 Freedom (eleutheria) and “loyalty” 111, 125, 140–141, 276, 279, 326, 356, 365, 366, 371, 374 and military alliances 61, 62, 78, 81–82, 89, 90, 107, 133, 139, 195, 208, 362 and the “sanctions clause” 65–66, 88, 91 and peace 133, 251, 300, 312, 341, 371, 372, 373, 376 peace as precondition of freedom 133–134, 147, 149, 169–170, 198, 285, 291, 299, 327, 366, 369 urge for peace among all Greeks 147, 149, 151, 208, 327, 341, 354 and the Roman concept of civitas libera 228, 232–235 and the Roman patrocinium 276–278, 370–371, 372, 440, 444 and safety (soteria) 66, 107, 147, 148, 169–170, 276, 284–285, 327, 374–376 and the status of individual cities 5–6, 8–9, 63, 64, 111, 128, 132, 200, 223, 262, 289, 300, 301, 358, 359

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Index of Names and Subjects

Freedom (eleutheria) (Continued) freedom as a composite status 7, 63–64, 96, 128, 134, 175, 356, 231, 232–236, 262, 269–271, 279, 280, 355, 356–357, 364 freedom from garrison 65, 117–118, 134, 210, 229–231, 235–237 freedom from tribute /taxes 7, 65, 97, 99–101, 125, 134, 154, 228, 229, 231, 232, 234–237, 288 freedom to keep (territorial) possessions 73, 230, 232, 236–237, 261, 269, 270, 279, 353, 364, 443 freedom to use the laws of the city 6, 98, 124, 125, 137, 138, 154, 175, 176, 180, 194, 228–232, 234, 235, 237, 269, 270, 276, 278–280, 355, 357, 364, 443 in the reign of Alexander III 73, 80–84, 87–89, 90–108, 126, 231, 355, 356, 427–432 under the Romans 160, 164, 165, 196, 200, 210, 223, 227–230, 232–237, 262, 269, 270, 275, 279, 282, 326, 348, 362, 363, 365, 366 under the Successors 122, 124, 126, 131, 132, 134, 135, 140–141, 357 and the unity of the Greeks the idea of Greek freedom 41, 44, 47, 56, 66, 89 the idea of Greek unity as opposed to all non-Greeks 63, 148, 149, 208, 213, 285, 291, 302, 312, 317, 326–328, 354, 362, 366 “common freedom” 4–5, 41, 47, 66, 124, 136, 208, 340 declarations of Greek freedom by Antigonos (the One-Eyed) 50, 95, 115–121, 124, 128, 130–131, 133, 140, 197, 200, 355, 356 Flamininus at the Isthmian games 3, 8, 9, 143, 157, 158, 162, 164, 165, 175, 196, 207, 211–212, 231, 274, 275, 280, 281, 357, 374 at the Nemean games 205 based on the senatus consultum 153, 175–176, 180–181, 192, 198–199, 210–211, 228, 357

Nero 280, 373–374 Philip V 9–10, 137–138, 169, 206, 229, 231, 356–357 Polyperchon 97, 113–117, 124, 140, 355, 356 Ptolemy (I) 50, 115–117, 130, 356 Ptolemy II 116–117, 136 Pyrrhos 135–136, 200, 356 the Successors (311 B.C.) 120, 123, 124, 127, 128, 140, 197, 356, 357 the definition of 3–4, 15, 16, 18–19, 21, 23, 24, 25, 32, 44, 47, 61–65, 119, 148, 228, 232, 280, 356, 366 in relations of rulers with individual cities Antigonos (the One-Eyed) 117, 118, 119, 124, 128, 130–131, 357 and Athens 130–131, 133 and Colophon 124 and Elis 119 and Ios 124 and Miletus 119, 128, 231 and Scepsis 120, 122, 123, 124 Antiochos I and Erythrae 134 and Priene 134 Antiochos II and Erythrae 134 and Miletus 134–135, 231 Antiochos III 215, 216, 222 and Iasus 138, 216 and Lampsacus with Smyrna 215 and Lysimachea 138 and Teos 135, 139, 215, 275 Lysimachos 126–127, 128 and Priene 105, 126 Philip V 357 and Thasos 357 Ptolemy (I) 118, 120, 125, 130, 357 and Andros 130 and Iasus 125, 135, 357 and Theangela 125 Seleucos II and Mylasa 135 and Smyrna 135 as ancestral stance of rulers 116–117, 124–125, 135–136, 141 in the Republican Rome 372–377 the “principle of freedom,” the theory of 8–9 by the Hellenistic rulers 116–117, 357–358 by the Romans 284, 357–358, 359–360

Index of Names and Subjects See also “Autonomy (autonomia),” “Deditio,” “Fides,” “Loyalty (eunoia),” “Panhellenism,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Safety (soteria),” “The slogan of freedom,” “Stance (hairesis, proairesis),” “Treaties of Peace” Friendship as Greek philia 105, 138, 241, 397 as Roman amiticia 185, 190, 220, 439 of Rome with the Achaeans 325 the Aetolians 252 Antiochos III 187, 188, 190, 218, 219, 220, 221 Athens 184 the Attalids 188 Carthage 221 Edeco 261 Greek cities 190, 195, 210, 214, 236, 269, 283, 366 Messenia 185–186 Mithridates VI 220 Nabis 185, 187, 203, 220 Rhodes 188, 196, 213, 220.302 Sparta 185–186 See also “Rome (state); the Romans” Fulvius Nobilior, M. 239, 316 Furius Camillus, M., and Falerii 272 Furius Purpurio, L. 234 Gades 271 The Galatians 189, 285, 337 Gaugamelae, battle of 75, 423, 431 Gaul; the Gauls 245, 260, 261, 371, 372 Gaza 121, 242 The “garrison clause”; see “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Gellius, A. 308, 439 Gentius 261 “Good will”; see “Loyalty (eunoia)” Gordian III 365 Hagepolis of Rhodes 292, 294, 295, 296, 303, 304 of Sparta 204 Hairesis; see “Stance (hairesis, proairesis)” Haliartus 189, 298, 300, 301 Halicarnassus 244, 286, 395, 403 Halonnesus 67, 68, 69, 72, 74, 408

j 509

Halys 384 Hannibal 149, 151, 177, 237, 247, 261, 272, 435 Harpalos (the envoy of Perseus); see “Perseus” Harpalos (the official of Alexander) 103, 104, 421, 423–426. See also “Demosthenes” Hegesianax 373 Hegesias (of Ephesus) 103, 104, 430 Hegesias (of Lampsacus) 171, 172, 181, 182, 192, 195 Heraclea by Latmus 9, 236, 260, 277, 280, 289, 439, 444 and the Scipio brothers 230, 232–234, 240, 242, 266, 270, 364, 365, 370, 444 Heraclea by the Oeta 108, 147, 334, 346, 347 Heraclea Pontica 247, 270 Heraclea Trachinia 327, 366 Heracleides 285, 286, 433–436 Heracles 152, 414 Hierapytna 88, 418, 434. See also “Rhodes; the Rhodians,” “War: the Cretan war” Hiero 105, 126. See also “Priene” Hieronymos of Cardia 107, 117, 129 Historiography, Roman on deditio in fidem 270–273, 281 Roman fides 271–273 Roman war against Antiochos III 197 Roman war against Perseus 186, 188–189, 289, 290 Roman war against Rhodes 295–296, 297–298, 306–310, 311–312 Second Macedonian war 167–169, 173, 176–179, 185, 206, 218, 289, 359, 361 Homer 152 Hyperides 80, 81, 82, 85, 87, 104, 110, 424, 425 Iasus 153, 210, 275, 285 and Antiochos III 138, 215, 216, 275 and Ptolemy I 103, 125, 135, 216, 241, 357 Ilium 100, 101, 127 and Hellenistic rulers 241–242 and Rome 184, 185, 195 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Troy” Illyria; the Illyrians 145, 160, 167, 169, 189, 191, 214, 219, 232, 261, 371, 373. See also “Demetrios of Illyria,” “Teuta,” “War: the two Illyrian wars” Imbros 26, 27, 28, 80, 131, 160, 408

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Index of Names and Subjects

Imperium 233 and sovereignty 65, 318 of the Roman emperor 371, 374 of Roman officials 163, 172, 173, 179, 233, 438 of the Roman people 370, 372, 440 Isocrates and the “autonomy clause” 394, 410 and the “common peace” 57, 408 and the “garrison clause” 409 and the “territorial clause” 353, 408–410 on the Peace of 375 41, 48, 51, 57, 410 on the King’s Peace 51, 91, 394, 408, 410 Archidamos 393, 394, 399, 401 On the Peace 353, 394, 408, 409 Panathenaicos 409 Panegyricos 70, 409 Plataicus 41, 44, 57 See also “The ‘common peace’ (koine eirene),” “Philip II,” “Treaties of Peace,” “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Isopoliteia; see “Politeia” Issa 145, 244, 249 The Isthmian games 130, 143, 153, 154, 157, 158, 160, 173, 175–177, 180, 181, 199, 207, 210, 219, 280, 375. See also “Corinth; the Corinthians,” “Freedom (eleutheria)” Italy; the Italians 167, 201, 207, 216, 237, 247, 261, 319, 441 the Greek hostages in Italy 328–330 the Greeks in southern Italy 8, 146, 152, 159, 194, 234, 235–237, 364. See also “Sicily; the Sicilians” Iuventius Thalna, P. 334 Janus 244 Jason of Thessaly 389 The Jews 246, 378 Julius Caesar, C. 247 the “Julian star” 244 Julius Caesar, Sex. 336, 344 Julius Obsequens 244 Justin 75, 94, 107, 206, 408, 410, 413, 416, 417 The King’s Peace; see “Treaties of Peace” The Koaranzes 106 Koine eirene; see “Peace” Koinon; see “League”

Lacedaemon; see “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” The Lamian war; see “War” Lampsacus; the Lampsaceni 132, 148, 157, 170, 171, 173, 175, 181–183, 189, 190, 192, 193, 195–197, 207, 212, 213, 215, 218, 223, 242, 429 and Alexander III; see “Alexander III (the Great)” and Antiochos III; see “Antiochos III (Megas)” and Rome; see “Rome (state); the Romans” Laodike (wife of Antiochos II) 429 Laodike (wife of Antiochos III) 216 Laodike (wife of Perseus) 298–299 Larisa Cremastê 131, 250, 415 Latium; the Latins 261, 268, 378 League as a modern concept 28–29 the Acarnanian League; see “Acarnania; the Acarnanians” the Achaean League; see “Achaea; the Achaeans” the Aetolian League; see “Aetolia; the Aetolians” the Arcadian League 30, 32, 48, 61, 83, 85–87, 109. See also “Arcadia; the Arcadians” the Chalcidian League and Philip II and Hellenistic rulers 78–79, 119, 130 and Sparta 31–33 See also “Chalcis; the Chalcidians” the Elaean League; see “Elis; the Elaeans” the Hellenic League (of Antigonos the OneEyed and Demetrios) 89, 123, 132 the League of Corinth 29, 67, 73–77, 92, 354, 417 and the cities of Asia Minor 96, 97, 99 and the Macedonian Peace 64, 73–78, 87–89, 90, 95, 110, 133 attempted restoration by Polyperchon 114, 133, 138, 229 the charter 74, 75, 87, 89–90, 133, 229 the council (synedrion) 92, 137 the membership 17, 21–22, 92, 95, 96, 109–111, 136, 323, 417 the Peloponnesian League; the Peloponnese 20, 24, 28, 29, 47–49, 58–59, 64, 83, 86, 88, 107, 114, 119,

Index of Names and Subjects 130, 201, 209, 279, 288, 299, 311, 313, 314, 320, 321, 323–325, 330, 334, 338, 340, 341, 346, 349, 365, 367, 372, 389, 390, 392, 395, 396, 400, 422, 423 the nature of 31, 41, 64, 75 See also “Mantinea” the Phocian League; see “Phocis; the Phocians” the Second Athenian Confederacy allegedly acknowledged by the Peace of 375 41–43, 91 and the Athens Peace 50–52, 60, 62, 75, 76, 396, 401 and Philip II 68, 75, 77, 80 as abiding by the principles of the King’s Peace 38, 51–52, 60, 62, 75–77, 88, 408 the charter of; see “Aristotle, the decree of” the common council (synedrion) of 39, 44, 381, 385–386 the foundation of 26, 36–37, 39, 396 the status of allies and members 17, 20, 34, 37–38, 49, 51–52, 88, 352, 381–384, 386, 390, 391 Sparta’s alleged participation 391–397 Thebes’ alleged participation; see “Thebes (city, state; in Boeotia); the Thebans” the Symmachy (of Antigonos Doson and Philip V) 9, 10, 136–138, 169, 170, 200, 206, 229, 231, 356–357, 206 the Thessalian League; see “Thessaly; the Thessalians” See also “The Arche (Athenian),” “The Boeotian Federation; the Boeotians,” “Philip II,” “Treaties of alliance, between,” “Treaties of Peace: the Macedonian Peace” Lebedus 106, 331, 430 Lemnos 26–28, 80, 131, 408 Lepidus; see “Aemilius Lepidus, M.” Lesbos 383 Leucae 84 Leuctra, the Spartan defeat at 29, 30, 32, 39, 40, 43–47, 49–51, 85, 86, 91, 279, 388–390, 391–393, 395, 396, 400, 406 Lex provinciae 233

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Lex repetundarum 440 Licinius Crassus, P. 164, 289 Liguria; the Ligurians 152, 258–259, 260, 261, 262, 268, 437, 444 Livy 185, 186, 192, 202, 235, 326, 237, 337–338, 418 about Rome and Philip V 157, 160, 161, 164, 169 on their second treaty 172–174, 178, 190, 191, 195, 202 on the post-war settlement 180, 184–185, 190–191, 203 about Rome and the Aetolians 250–255, 257, 370 on the Achaeans 299–301, 315, 318, 325 on Athens 184 on deditio and fides 228, 242, 244, 245, 258, 262, 267, 268, 271, 272, 281 of the Aetolians 238–240, 257, 264–265, 270 of Nabis 240 on Ilium 184 on nova sapientia 155 on Perseus 188, 189, 296–298, 299–300, 302, 305, 370–371 on Rhodes 184, 198, 276–277, 286, 290–291, 293, 294–298, 305, 306–307, 308, 309, 311 on Roman dealings with Antiochos III 214, 217, 218, 222 on Roman freedom to the Greeks 164, 168–169, 177, 276–277, 370 in the declaration of Flamininus 177, 275 in the peace of Phoenice 178–179, 203 in the Second Macedonian war 178, 185, 198 in the status of cities 230, 370, 440 in the war against Antiochos III 218, 222, 223, 230, 276–277, 373 in the war against Nabis 185, 187, 201, 203–206 on Lampsacus and Smyrna 182, 190, 195, 197, 218 on Sparta 185, 186, 205 on Syracuse 270, 271, 442–443 See also “The ‘annalistic tradition,’” “Historiography, Roman on,” “Polybios”

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Index of Names and Subjects

Locri; the Locrians 108, 154, 161, 214, 234, 346, 347, 390 Locri Epizephyri 236, 247, 250 the coin with the image of Pistis 244, 247, 248–249 “Loyalty” (eunoia) loyalty in Roman politics 245, 246, 281, 327, 437–438, 440, 441, 444 loyalty, or “good will,” of Greek cities to Macedonian kings/Hellenistic powers 5, 97, 111, 123, 124, 126, 132, 139, 141, 241, 275, 334, 355, 356, 357 to Rome 160, 262, 273, 276, 278–279, 281, 282, 326, 327, 364–365, 366, 374, 444 See also “Fides,” “Freedom (eleutheria)” Lucania; the Lucanians 194, 260 Lucretius Gallus, C. 309 Lycia; the Lycians 112, 121, 170, 287. See also “Rhodes; the Rhodians” Lyciscos 137, 148, 150, 309, 327, 340, 354. See also “Achaea; the Achaean League” Lycortas 316, 318, 319, 322, 326, 327, 361. See also “Achaea; the Achaean League” Lydia; the Lydians 101, 117, 231 Lysimachea 138, 139, 148, 197, 207, 210–212, 215, 216, 218, 220, 221. See also “Antiochos III (Megas)” Lysimachos 104, 105, 112, 120, 121, 126, 128, 129 Machiavelli; Machiavellism 164, 218, 343, 344, 351, 358, 378, 379. See also “Rome (state); the Romans” Maecenas 367 Magnesia (in Greece); the Magnetes 154, 164, 274, 413 Magnesia (on the Maeander); the Magnetes 151, 286, 289, 429. See also “Alexander III (the Great)” Manlius Vulso, Cn. 234 Mantinea 85, 393–396 alliance and conflict with Sparta 25, 393–396 and Thebes 47, 86 the battle of 60, 86 broken into villages by the Spartans 29, 31, 47, 86 restored as a city after the battle at Leuctra 29, 47, 86, 393–395 See also “Arcadia; the Arcadians,” “Athens (city, state); the Athenians,”

“League: the Arcadian League,” “League: the Peloponnesian League,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Marcius Figulus, C. 292 Marcius Philippus, Q. 155, 289, 320, 326, 362 See also “Rhodes; the Rhodians,” “Rome (state); the Romans” Marcius Septimus, L. 271 Mardonios 23 Megalopolis; the Megalopolitai 47, 48, 60, 61, 83, 85–87, 95, 108, 115, 317, 322, 330, 331, 340–342 battle of 93, 423 See also “Arcadia; the Arcadians,” “League: the Arcadian League,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Megara 70, 130 Menippos (from Teos) 229–230, 233 Messana 88, 322 Messenia (state, country); the Messenians 49, 50, 54, 58, 61, 87, 95, 118, 393, 396, 408 and the Achaean League 209, 315, 317, 319–323, 324, 325, 332, 348, 349, 361 and the Romans 185–188, 315, 316, 317, 319–323, 324, 332, 348, 363 See also “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Methymna 34, 37, 382, 422. See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Treaties of alliance, between” Miletus 105, 106, 119, 128, 133–135, 231, 275, 289, 429. See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Freedom (eleutheria)” Minnio 162, 207, 216, 221 Morgantina 146 Mummius, L. 344, 346–349. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Mylasa 135, 427 Myndus 286 Mytilene 20, 23, 34, 36, 37, 93, 94, 96, 140, 361, 382. See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy,” “Treaties of alliance, between” Myus 429

Index of Names and Subjects Nabis and the Achaeans 204, 208–209, 313–314, 315 and the Aetolians 207–209 and the Greeks 148, 204–207, 361 and the Romans 162, 185–187, 188, 200–209, 220, 223, 224, 240–241, 259, 275, 314, 316–317, 359, 361, 365 his status in the “peace of Phoenice” 187, 188, 203, 220, 230, 240, 262, 319 negotiations with Flamininus; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” See also “Argos; the Argives,” “Fides (socialis),” “Pelops,” “Philip V,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Naupactus 148, 150, 312, 366 Nero; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” The Nesiotic League; see “Rhodes; the Rhodians” Nicaea 161, 169, 174, 367, 413 negotiations between Flamininus and Philip; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Nicanor (different people) 114, 166, 423–425 Nisaea 22, 256 Nicias, peace of; see “Treaties of peace” nova sapientia; see “Marcius Philippus, Q.,” “Rome (state); the Romans” Numa; see “Fides” The Numantines 243, 260, 261 Octavian; see “Augustus” Octavius, Cn. 276, 325 Olympia 254, 347, 348, 423–425 Olympias 114, 424, 425 Olympichos of Alinda 285 Olynthus; the Olynthians 32, 33, 41, 382, 411, 413, 419 Onomarchos 411, 412, 416. See also “Thessaly; the Thessalians” Orchomenus 80, 81, 85, 92, 334. See also “Alexander III (the Great)” Oreum 146, 160 Oropus 332, 333, 348. See also “Athens (city, state); the Athenians” Panhellenism 4, 11, 13, 15, 90, 94, 96, 110, 133, 150, 151, 154, 208, 290, 299, 301, 328, 345, 353. See also “Freedom (eleutheria)”

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Panormus 235, 246, 260 Papirius Maso, C. 281 Parium 123 Paros 160, 287 Patrocinium in patron-client relations 438, 439, 441 of Rome in Greece 276, 277, 278, 315, 370, 371–372, 439, 440, 444 See also “Clientela,” “Deditio,” “Fides,” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Rome (state); the Romans” Pausanias (the author) 21, 46, 80, 85–86, 103–104, 108, 252, 280, 318, 331–333, 338, 339, 342, 349, 416, 417 Pausanias (the Spartan) 24, 75 The pax Romana; see “Rome (state); the Romans” Pedasa 153, 210 Pella 152 Pellene 83, 88, 108, 271 Pelopidas 39, 49, 58, 62, 90, 195, 393, 399, 404, 408 the (failed) “Peace of Pelopidas”; see “Treaties of Peace” The Peloponnese; the Peloponnesians; see “League: the Peloponnesian League; the Peloponnese” Pelops 185, 186, 204. See also “Nabis” Perdiccas 92, 104, 112, 113, 140 Pergae 22 Pergamum (city; kingdom) 184, 187, 283, 285, 367, 370. See also “Attalos I,” “Attalos III,” “Eumenes II” Pericles 16, 17, 18, 20, 25 Perinthus; the Perinthians 73, 153, 210, 429 Perseus and the Greeks Abroupolis 188, 189 the Achaeans 299, 300, 302, 324, 325, 326, 328, 341 Antiochos IV 302 the Boeotians 289, 300, 309, 324, 328, 339, 345, 362 Cos 301 Epirus 278, 309 Eumenes II 188, 299, 302 Lampsacus 190 Prusias 298–299 the Rhodians 290–311, 328, 367

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Perseus (Continued) the Thessalians 326 and Laodike 298 and the Romans and nova sapientia 155 and the slogan of freedom 200, 230, 289, 290, 371, 378 claims innocence before the Romans 186, 188, 189 confirms his father’s peace treaty with Rome 183, 188, 189, 289, 290, 298, 301 the mission of Harpalos 291, 296 war and defeat at Pydna 154, 155, 202, 213, 230, 261, 289, 295, 296, 304, 306, 324, 329, 360 his defense of Greek freedom 290, 291, 297–298, 301, 302, 303, 326, 328, 341, 345, 361 See also “Aemilius Paullus, L.,” “Macedon, Macedonia,” “Rhodes; the Rhodians,” “Rome (state): the Romans,” “War: Macedonian war, the Third” Pherae; the Pheraeans 68, 131, 133, 389, 414, 415 Phaloria 179 Pharnabazos 93, 352 Pharsalus 250 Philhellenism as the alleged reason for Flamininus’s declaration 153–154, 159 as love of all things Greek 151–152 divorced from Roman politics 154, 155–156, 159–160, 349, 359–360 in Greek politics 139 See also “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Philip II and the Amphyctions 413, 417 and Athens 67–73, 80–81, 87, 133, 193, 384 and Greek alliances 78, 87, 90, 91, 95, 109, 324 the Acarnanian League 84 the Achaean League 82, 83 the Aetolian League 84 the Arcadian League 83, 85–87 the Boeotian Federation 81, 92 the Chalcidian League 78 the Phocian League 78–79 the Second Athenian Confederacy 80

the Thessalian League 69, 79–80, 108, 279, 411–420 and Isocrates 56, 70, 72, 95, 110, 415, 419 and Thebes 86, 92, 414, 416, 417 his image in later propaganda of Greek freedom 340, 354, 361 his use of the slogan of Greek freedom 66, 69, 70, 72, 89–90, 109, 350, 354, 359, 368 his victory at Chaeronea 38, 67, 73, 76, 78–80, 83, 91 See also “League: the League of Corinth,” “Thessaly; the Thessalians,” “Treaties of peace: the peace of Philocrates,” “Treaties of Peace: the Macedonian Peace” Philip V alleged secret pact with Antiochos III 436 and the Achaeans 204, 313, 318, 418 and the Aetolians; see “Aetolia; the Aetolians” and the Cretans 285–286, 433–436. See also “Dicaearchos,” “Heracleides,” “War: the Cretan war” and the Greeks and individual Greek cities 135, 242, 313, 338, 357, 429 and the Rhodians 168, 285–287, 366 the Allied war; see “War” and the Romans the ultimatum of 200 (two editions) 166–169, 258, 360 negotiations with Flamininus; see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” negotiations in Rome 171–173 peace treaty (first: the “peace of Phoenice”) 177, 178, 183, 186, 203. See also “Athens (city, state); the Athenians” peace treaty (second) provisions 153–154, 157–158, 160, 161, 175, 176, 180, 182, 188–191, 193–196, 199, 209–210, 227, 357, 362 the the senatus consultum 153–154, 157–158, 171–173, 175, 180, 181, 191–192, 202, 209 his defense of Greek freedom 137, 138, 169–170, 300 his military alliance; see “League: the Symmachy”

Index of Names and Subjects See also “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Quinctius Flamininus, T.,” “Perseus,” “Rhodes; the Rhodians,” “War: Macedonian war: the First,” “War: Macedonian war: the Second” Philochoros 403, 424 Philopoemen 209, 241, 314, 316, 317, 321, 322, 327, 367. See also “Achaea; the Achaeans” Philoxenos 102–104, 424, 425 Phlieius 60 Phocaea (in Asia Minor); the Phocaeans 105, 217, 269, 270, 271, 364, 443 Phocis; the Phocians 32, 78–79, 84, 108, 109, 136, 138, 154, 161, 180, 193, 346, 414, 416, 417 Phocion 74, 99, 100, 104, 427–428. See also “Alexander III (the Great)” Phoebidas 34, 388. See also “The Cadmea,” “Sphodrias” Phoenice, peace of; see “Philip V” Phthiotian Achaea 108, 154, 161 Phthiotic Thebes 108, 180, 242, 250, 255, 260 The Piraeus 31, 34, 35, 37, 39, 114, 381, 384, 395. See also “Sphodrias” Pistis; see “Fides” Plataea and Athens 24, 41, 241, 256 and Philip II 81 and Sparta 24, 241, 256 and Thebes 41, 44, 256, 394 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Plato 45, 55 Plautus, T. Maccius 266, 438 Pleuron 331, 332, 335. See also “Sulpicius Gallus, C.” Plutarch 3, 21, 33, 46, 58, 60, 74, 121, 133, 135, 153, 162, 174, 199, 244, 342, 343, 365, 367, 382, 385, 386, 422, 427, 428, 443, 444 Polemaeos 119 Politeia (“citizenship”) 105, 106 Polyaenos 90, 415, 435 Polybios 155, 164, 236–238, 249, 261, 292, 302, 326–328, 329–330, 331–332, 333, 341–344, 419 and Appian 157–158, 170–171, 183, 210, 217, 292, 301

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and Diodoros 137, 153–154, 170, 189, 204, 210, 217, 308 and Greek freedom 135–136, 137, 167–168, 176, 179, 192, 195, 197, 209–210, 341–343, 276–277, 284, 301–303, 307–308, 316, 327, 328, 340, 341–342, 345–346 and Livy 157, 160, 169, 183–184, 190–191, 195, 198, 202, 217, 230, 238–240, 250–251, 253, 255–257, 264–265, 270, 276–277, 293, 294–296, 297, 298, 300, 302, 307–308, 337, 339 and Roman rule 326–328, 329, 339–343, 371–372 and symploke 150 on the Achaeans 82, 241, 316, 318–319, 325–330, 332, 335–337, 338, 340, 344–348 on the Aetolians 137, 217, 237–240, 243, 250–251, 253, 255–257, 264–265, 270 on the Boeotians 300, 324, 339 on Flamininus 153, 154, 176, 177, 179, 192, 253, 256 on Lampsacus 170–173, 182–183, 195, 197, 212 on Macedonian kings 82, 86, 135–136, 137, 156, 290–292, 295–296, 298, 300, 301–303, 308–309, 326, 339, 340, 419, 435 on Nabis 204, 230 on the Rhodians 179, 276–277, 284, 288, 290, 292, 293–296, 297, 303, 304, 307–309, 435 on Rome and Antiochos III 167, 177, 179, 212, 217, 276–277 on Rome and Philip V 157, 158, 160, 164, 169, 176, 179, 182, 202, 209–210 on the Spartans 61, 86 on the speech of Agelaos 148–151 See also “The ‘annalistic tradition,’” “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “Machiavelli; Machiavellism,” “Rhodes; the Rhodians” Polyperchon his status 95, 115, 124 his declaration of Greek freedom; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” Popilius Laenas, C. 325 Popilius Laenas, M. 258, 259, 262

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Porcius Cato, M. 152, 308 and the Achaeans 330 and the Rhodians 298, 304–306, 308, 330 Potidaea 16, 17, 18 Prepelaüs 104, 131 Priene 97–99, 101, 102, 105, 126, 134, 331, 430 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Hiero” Proairesis; see “Stance (hairesis, proairesis)” Ptolemy I (Soter) 50, 112, 115–117, 118, 120, 121, 125, 128–133, 140, 197, 200, 241, 355–357, 361 and Iasus 103, 125, 135, 216, 357 his declaration of Greek freedom; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” Ptolemy II (Philadelphos) 106, 116, 117, 136, 275, 427 Ptolemy IV (Philopator) 161, 211, 212, 215, 286, 436 Ptolemy V (Epiphanes) 161, 167, 169, 191, 212, 242, 435, 436 Ptolemy VI (Philometer) 292 Pyrrhos and Tarentum 152–153, 194, 418 proposed treaty with the Romans 193, 194 See also “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Quinctius Flamininus, L. 181, 182, 266 Quinctius Flamininus, T. and the Achaeans 180, 204, 315, 317 and the Boeotians 159, 174, 329 and Demetrios, son of Philip V 337–338 and Nabis conference on Nabis 148, 205–207 negotiations with Nabis 185–188, 201–204, 240, 316 and the ten commissioners 160–161, 163–164, 171–175, 179–181, 191–192, 199, 202, 209, 212, 214, 227, 273–274, 337, 349, 357, 359, 363 attitude of the Greeks 159, 175, 179–180, 207–208 early career 143, 152–153 his declaration of Greek freedom; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” his love for pompous pronouncements 204–205, 206–207, 274

his lust and cruelty 179–180, 214 his military command in Greece 143, 172, 173, 177, 179, 203, 207 his philhellenism 153, 154–155, 159–160 his unscrupulousness 180, 214, 359 his vanity 153, 214 honors by Greek cities 162–163, 275, 363, 365, 444 letter to Chyretiae 164, 274, 276 negotiations with the Aetolians at Tempe 250, 253–258, 262 negotiations with the envoys of Antiochos in Rome; see “Antiochos III (Megas)” negotiations with the Magnetes 274, 363, 366 negotiations with Philip V 172 at Aous 168, 169, 230 at Nicaea 214 at Tempe 169, 176 relations with individual Greek cities 9, 160–161, 164–165, 170, 176, 211, 227, 231, 273–275, 278, 289, 317, 348, 349, 357–358, 359, 363, 366 victory over Philip V at Cynoscephalae 8, 143, 152, 153, 170, 209 withdraws Roman army from Greece 161–162 See also “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “The ‘fetters,’” “Fides,” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Philhellenism,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “The slogan of freedom” Rhegium 216, 234, 236 Rhodes; the Rhodians against the pirates 284–285 and the Achaeans; see “Achaea; the Achaeans” and the Aegean 284–285, 286, 434 and the Aetolians 285 and Antigonos I 120, 133 and Antiochos III 288 and Athens 36, 37 and the Attalids 285, 288 and Byzantium 213, 284–285, 311 and Caria and Lycia 288–289, 304, 307, 310, 311, 329, 330, 337 and the Cretans 285. See also “Crete; the Cretans,” “War: the Cretan war”

Index of Names and Subjects and Egypt 284, 294 and Hierapytna; see “Hierapytna” and individual Greek cities (incl. Caunus and Stratonicea) 285, 286, 289 and the Nesiotic League 126, 286, 287–288 and Perseus 290–291, 297–302, 307 Metrodoros 294, 297, 303 the pro-Perseus party (incl. Deinon and Polyarates) 294, 301, 303, 304, 309, 311 and Rome ambassadors to the Romans Astymedes 304, 305, 306, 307 Hagepolis 292, 294, 295, 296, 303, 304 Hagesilochos 292, 303 Philocrates 304, 307, 353 Philophron 307 and L. Aemilius Paullus 293, 294, 295 and Q. Marcius Philippus 292, 293, 294 friendship with Rome 213, 220 Roman interpretation of the Rhodian stance 213, 295–297, 305–309, 311 as defending the freedom of the Greeks 128–129, 134, 213, 284–285, 287–291 after the Roman victory over Antiochos III 283–284, 288 against Philip V 184, 198 at the negotiations of Philip V and the Aetolians 147–148, 170, 327, 366 in the Third Macedonian war 297–298, 303–307 as a mediator between Philip V and the Aetolians 147–148, 170, 285, 366 between Rome and the Aetolians 239 between Rome and Perseus (allegedly suggested by Philippus) 293–294 between Rome and Perseus (eventually undertaken by Rhodes) 11, 291–295, 304–307 in the Sixth Syrian war 292–294 suggested by Antiochos III in his conflict with Lampsacus and Smyrna 148, 207, 213 as preserving her neutrality 129, 213, 305

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See also “Alexander III (the Great)” “Demetrios (Poliorcetes),” “Dicaearchos,” “Heracleides,” “Perseus,” “Philip V,” “Porcius Cato, M.,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy,” “Thrasicrates” Rome (city) the Capitol 152, 189, 246, 247, 275 the temple of Fides 244, 246, 247. See also “Atilius Calatinus, A.,” “Numa” the temple of Jupiter Fidius 244 the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus 246 Rome (state); the Romans and Antiochos III; see “Antiochos III (Megas)” and Carthage 146, 148, 149, 151, 152, 157, 166, 183, 186–189, 193, 195, 214, 221, 236, 238, 240, 243, 245, 253, 260–262, 270, 271, 280, 343. See also “Carthage; the Carthaginians” the battle at Lake Trasimene 149 and the Greeks and the Achaeans; see “Achaea; the Achaeans” and the Aetolians; see “Aetolia; the Aetolians” and the Boeotians; see “The Boeotian Federation; the Boeotians” and Caria and Lycia 288, 289, 304, 307, 310, 311, 329 and the freedom of individual Greek cities; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” and their rights and privileges (“constitutions”) interpreted as consisting of several periods 155–157 negotiations after the defeat of Philip V 175, 181 purges following the Third Macedonian war 309, 328–329 Roman policy as “Machiavellian” 343, 358, 378–379 Roman policy and philhellenism; see “Philhellenism” Romans as “common benefactors” 277, 281–282, 362–364, 373

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Rome (state) (Continued) and Lampsacus the embassy of Hegesias 170, 171, 173, 175, 181–183, 189, 190, 192–193, 195, 196, 197, 215 in the second Roman treaty with Philip V 157, 182–183, 189, 190, 192–193, 195, 196 and Macedonia; see “Andriscos,” “Perseus,” “Philip V” and Smyrna 170, 171, 173, 181–183, 190, 197, 212, 215 diplomatic practices and vocabulary influenced by the Greeks 3–6, 10–11, 176, 229–234, 237, 250, 257–258, 269, 273, 281, 305, 362, 364–365, 373 the pax Romana 6, 348, 368, 369, 371–373, 375, 376 Roman policy of interference as if in defense of freedom 207, 212, 278, 320, 326, 349, 350, 358–359, 362–363, 377–378 of interference in the form of arbitration 167–168, 197–198, 209, 212, 218, 221–222, 309, 311, 315, 320–322, 330–331, 333, 334 of fostering divisions among the Greeks 311, 315, 319, 333, 334, 340, 367 of nova sapientia 155, 293, 299 presented as always just and selfless 155, 197, 247, 273 See also “Clientela,” “Deditio,” “Fides,” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Friendship,” “Machiavelli; Machiavellism,” “Quinctius Flamininus, T.,” “Patrocinium,” “Philip V,” “The slogan of freedom,” “Stance (hairesis, proairesis),” “Treaties of alliance, between” Romê, the goddess 182, 248, 249 Roxanê 115, 120, 129, 140 “Safety” (soteria); see “The ‘common peace’ (koine eirene),” “Freedom (eleutheria)” Saguntum 166, 186, 193, 261, 262, 441 Sallustius Crispus, C. 245, 262, 308, 438 Samnium; the Samnites 194, 272, 442

Samos; the Samians 17, 18, 80, 106, 260, 286, 331, 383, 406, 424, 426. See also “Athens (city, state); the Athenians” The “sanctions clause”; see “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Sardis 26–27, 57, 99, 101, 102–105, 429. See also “Alexander III (the Great)” The Satraps’ Revolt 53, 54, 60, 61, 406 Scarpheia 347 Scepsis 120, 122–124, 357 Scyros 28, 80, 160 Sellasia, battle of 137 Seleucos I Nicator 106, 121, 129 and Antigonos the One-Eyed 118, 120–122, 128 Seleucos II Callinicos 135, 276 Seleucos IV Philopator 298 Sempronius Gracchus, Ti. 152 Sergius, M’. 330, 331 Sicily; the Sicilians 19, 20, 146, 163, 233, 234, 294, 295, 442 Rome and the Greek cities of 8, 146, 162, 167, 233, 234, 235–237, 246, 270, 272, 364, 441 See also “Dionysios I of Sicily,” “Syracuse” Sicyon 107, 119, 130, 131, 133 and the trial of Athens 332, 333 The slogan of freedom 131–132, 141 as justification of aggression or political disobedience by the Achaean League against Rome 316, 317, 342, 345–346, 347 by the Aetolians against Rome 162, 207, 208, 216, 312, 345, 361, 367 by Alexander against Thebes 92, 95 by Antigonos against Asander 128 by Antigonos against Cassander 115, 131, 133, 140, 355 by Antigonos against Ptolemy 131 by Antigonos against Telesphoros 119 by Antigonos Doson against Cleomenes 137 by Antiochos III against Rome 139–140, 216, 345, 367 by Antipater against the Greeks in the Lamian war 112–113 by Antipater against the Spartans 95 by Athens against Macedonia 87–88, 208

Index of Names and Subjects by Athens against Sparta 351 by Attalos I against Philip V 168, 198 by the Carians against Rhodes 307 by Corinth against Athens 21, 23 by Corinth against Sparta 19 by Demetrios against Cassander 131, 133 by Eumenes II against Philip V 198 by the Lycians against Rhodes 307 by Mantinea against Thebes and the Arcadian League 86 by Mytilene against Athens 21, 23 by Olynthus against Amyntas III 33 by Philip II against the Arcadian League 86 by Philip II against the Thessalians 415–416, 420 by Philip V against the Aetolian League 137, 356 by Polyperchon against Cassander 114, 355 by Ptolemy (I) against Antigonos 50, 115–116, 128, 355 by Ptolemy II against Macedonia 116, 136 by Pyrrhos against Antigonos Doson 135 by Pyrrhos against Sparta 135–136, 200, 356 by Rhodes against Antiochos III 286–288 by Rhodes against Eumenes II 283, 288, 317 by Rhodes against Philip V 168, 198, 286 by Rhodes against Rome 297–298, 304–306, 308–312, 326, 342, 367 by Rome against the Achaean League 315, 317, 320, 323, 332, 350, 362–363, 378 by Rome against Antiochos III 148, 159, 161, 196–198, 210–212, 215, 217–219, 223, 274, 277, 278, 307, 317, 358, 360, 367, 370, 373 by Rome against Macedonia 350 by Rome against Nabis 200–209, 365 by Rome against Perseus 289–290, 378 by Rome against Philip V (in retrospect) 167–169, 173, 176–179, 185, 206, 218, 289, 359, 361 by Rome against Rhodes 307, 337

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by Sparta against Alexander III 94 by Sparta against Athens 15–16, 21, 23, 351 by Sparta against Thebes 109 by Syracuse against Athens 21 by Thebes against Alexander 82, 91, 92, 94 by Thebes against Athens 21, 61 by Thebes against Sparta (before and after Leuctra) 47, 50, 61, 86, 279 See also “Autonomy (autonomia),” “War: the Peloponnesian war” as a measure to maintain the status quo the treaties of Peace (from 386 to 371); see “Treaties of Peace” the treaty of the Successors (311) 120–122, 127, 128, 131, 140. See also “Autonomy (autonomia),” “Freedom (eleutheria)” as part of propaganda war by both sides in the conflict between the Achaean League and Rome 318, 322, 346, 349, 367 between the Aetolians and Philip V 169 between the Aetolians and Rome 207, 208 between Alexander III and the Persians 93, 94, 361 between Alexander III and Sparta 93, 94 between Alexander III and Thebes 82, 91–92, 361 between Antigonos and Ptolemy (I) 50, 115–116, 361 between Antiochos III and Rome 139–140, 216, 370 between Antipater and the Greeks 107, 112–113 between Eumenes II and Rhodes 283, 288 between Perseus and Rome 289–291, 298, 301–303 between Philip II and Persia 91–92, 94, 95, 223 between Rome and Antiochos III 217–219, 222, 223, 361 between Rome and Aristonicos 362 between Rome and Mithridates VI 362 between Rome and Perseus 200, 289, 290, 378

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Index of Names and Subjects

The slogan of freedom (Continued) between Rome and Rhodes 307, 311 between Sparta and Athens 15, 48, 70 between Sparta and Elis 361 between Thebes and Sparta 30, 47, 50 used by the Romans the origin of the Roman slogan of freedom 9–10, 138, 156, 166–199, 229, 233–234, 258, 279, 360–361, 368 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Philip II,” “Quinctius Flamininus, T.,” “Treaties of Peace,” “War” Smyrna 135, 148, 170, 171, 173, 181, 182, 190, 196–198, 207, 212, 213, 215, 218, 223, 241, 367. See also “Lampsacus; the Lampsaceni,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Romê, the goddess” Soli; see “Alexander III (the Great)” Spain; the Spaniards 146, 152, 167, 238, 242, 266, 272, 281, 440 Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans and the Achaean League; see “Achaea; the Achaeans” and Arcadia 30, 85, 86, 87, 109, 389 and Argos 24, 26, 30, 407, 410 and Athens 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 33–34, 35, 48–49, 57, 61, 64, 136, 196, 216, 241, 350, 361, 369, 387, 390, 403–405, 408, 423 negotiations after Sparta’s defeat at Leuctra 48, 369, 390, 391–397 Sparta’s alleged participation in the Athens’ Peace; see “Treaties of Peace” and Chalcis 32, 33 and Corinth 18, 19, 21, 26, 30, 353 and Elis 25, 52, 118, 361, 389 and Epirus 135–136, 200 and her allies 20, 21, 25, 35, 41, 58, 353, 390, 400–401, 408 and Macedonia 76–78, 86–87, 89–90, 93–95, 137, 140, 279, 313 and Mantinea 25, 29, 31, 85–86, 388 and Megalopolis 47, 86, 87, 95, 331 and Messenia 49–50, 54, 58 and Persia 18, 25–28, 407, 409 and Plataea 241, 256 and Rome 185–188, 204, 227, 315–324, 332, 334–337, 344, 348, 374

and Thebes 29–30, 46–47, 49–50, 57–58, 81, 85–86, 109, 118, 216, 350, 400–401, 408 the “Lycurgan” (or “ancestral”) constitution 137, 317, 323 the use of the slogan of freedom 15, 21, 93–95, 136, 350 See also “Agis III,” “Alexander III (the Great),” “Autonomy (autonomia),” “War: the Corinthian war,” “Demosthenes,” “League: the Peloponnesian League,” “Leuctra,” “Nabis,” “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Treaties of alliance, between,” “Treaties of peace” Sphodrias 34–37, 39, 381–382, 384, 395. See also “The Piraeus” Stance (hairesis, proairesis) as ancestral policy of Hellenistic rulers 125–127, 133, 135, 136, 141, 215–216, 275, 290, 291 in the declaration of Polyperchon 97, 105, 113, 126, 138 in the reign of Alexander the Great 97, 105, 113, 126, 127, 431–432 of the Romans toward the Greeks 164, 275, 276, 280, 363 See also “Freedom (eleutheria)” The Statellates (a tribe) 258, 259 Status of individual cities; see “Freedom (eleutheria)” Strabo 100, 101, 127, 227 The Successors and royal titles 121–122, 129, 132, 140 the declaration of 311 120–123, 128, 129, 140, 200, 356–357 policy toward individual cities 117, 123–124, 126–127, 140–141, 431–432 references to Philip II and Alexander III as “ancestors” 116–117, 124–125, 135, 136, 141 the use of the slogan of freedom 113, 115–116, 119, 123–124 See also “Freedom (eleutheria),” “Peace, treaties of,” “The slogan of freedom” Sulla; see “Cornelius Sulla, L.” Sulpicius Galba, S. 259 Sulpicius Galba Maximus, P. 146, 214, 221, 345

Index of Names and Subjects Sulpicius Gallus, C. 152, 330–332, 334, 335 See also “Achaea; the Achaeans,” “Pleuron” The Symmachy; see “League” Sympoliteia; see “Politeia” Syntaxis 99, 101, 383–384 Syracuse 20 and Claudius Marcellus, M. 234, 236, 364, 442–443 prearranged surrender to the Romans 234, 237, 270, 271, 364 See also “Claudius Marcellus, M.,” “Deditio,” “Fides” Syria 120–122, 277, 292, 294 Tacitus (Cornelius Tacitus, C.?) 245, 371, 372 Tagos; see “Thessaly; the Thessalians” Tarentum 433 and M. Claudius Marcellus 234, 364 and Hannibal 237 and T. Quinctius Flamininus 152–153 prearranged surrender to the Romans 146, 216, 234, 236, 237, 364, 443 place of Greek culture and philosophy 151, 152 See also “Claudius Marcellus, M.,” “Deditio,” “Fides,” “Pyrrhos” Tarquinius (different people) 228, 245, 267 Tegea; the Tegeans 86, 137, 322, 336, 339, 342, 344, 393, 395 Telesphoros 119 Telmessus 427 The Ten (commissioners); see “Quinctius Flamininus, T.” Tenedus; see “Alexander III (the Great)” Teos 106, 276, 277, 331, 434. See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Antiochos III (Megas),” “Freedom (eleutheria)” Terence (Terentius Afer, P.) 438 Tetrarchies (in Thessaly); see “Thessaly; the Thessalians” Teuta 145, 219 The “territorial clause”; see “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Thasos 153, 210, 357 Thebes (city, state; in Boeotia); the Thebans and Athens 18, 21, 33, 35, 40, 42, 79, 81, 382–385, 387–390, 394–395, 426 and Athenian allies 390

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and the Second Athenian Confederacy 34, 35, 37–40, 381–390 and “the Boeotians” 384–387 and Corinth 75, 353, 390, 399–402, 404–406, 408 and Persia 49, 54, 58, 61, 426 and Philip II 81, 86 and Philip V 298, 301 and Rome 300, 301, 326 and Sparta 21, 30, 45, 86, 393–395 and Spartan allies 21, 58, 47, 59, 75, 216, 353, 408 and the Thessalians 412, 414, 416 the refoundation of Thebes 92, 108, 115, 118, 139, 140 the use of the slogan of freedom 30, 46, 47, 82, 86, 91–92, 279 See also “Alexander III (the Great),” “Athens (city, state); the Athenians,” “Autonomy (autonomia),” “The Boeotian Federation,” “The Cadmea,” “League: the Second Athenian Confederacy,” “Leuctra,” “Mantinea, the battle of,” “Plataea,” “The slogan of freedom,” “Sparta (country, city, state); the Spartans” Thebes (city in Phthiotis); see “Phthiotic Thebes” Themistocles 428 Thermopylae 171, 190, 217, 347, 413 Thespiae; the Thespians 39, 80–81, 92, 348, 393. See also “Alexander III (the Great)” Thessaly; the Thessalians 32, 80, 88, 90, 93, 108, 136, 143, 389, 390, 411, 413–414, 422 and Alexander III; see “Alexander III (the Great)” and Rome 143, 161, 179, 227, 326 argued over with the Aetolians 250, 251, 253, 255–257, 258, 266 internal discord 79, 80, 90, 108, 325, 413–415 Philip II’s activity 69, 81, 84, 108, 279, 411–420 the battle of the Crocus Field 411, 412, 419 Philip’s status in Thessaly 79, 411–420 the tetrarchies 79, 108, 109, 413, 419, 420

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Thessaly; the Thessalians (Continued) tagos 412, 414 See also “Demosthenes,” “League: the Thessalian League,” “Onomarchus” The Thirty, the tyranny of 26 Thisbe 300 Thrace 68, 93, 112, 120, 170, 214, 218, 220, 411, 413, 419 Thrasicrates 147–148, 170, 287, 327, 366. See also “Agelaos” Thrasydaios 414, 419 Thucydides 16–25, 63, 84, 241, 416, 428 Thyrrheum 253, 255. See also “Aetolia; the Aetolians” Timotheos 406 Tiribazos 26 Tithraustes 352, 428 Treaties of alliance, between Antigonos Doson and the Achaeans 418 Antigonos Doson and individual cities 418 Athens and the Achaeans 38, 60 Athens and Aegina 17, 18, 87 Athens and the Arcadians 38, 60, 86 Athens and “the Boeotians” 33, 382 Athens and Byzantium 34, 36–38, 382 Athens and Chalcis 32, 34, 382 Athens and Chios 32, 34, 38, 64, 352, 383, 409 Athens and Elis 38, 60 Athens and Megalopolis 60, 86 Athens and Mantinea 29, 86, 388 Athens and Methymna 34, 382 Athens and Mytilene 19, 34, 36, 37, 382 Athens and the Peloponnesian states 86, 88 Athens and Phlieius 38, 60 Athens and Sparta 49, 136, 391–397, 403 Athens and Thebes 34, 35, 40, 382–385 Athens and the Thessalians 88 Perseus and the Boeotians 289, 300, 324, 328, 362 Rhodes and Hierapytna 434 Rome and the Aetolian League; see “Aetolia; the Aetolians” Thebes and Philip II 92, 412–413, 414, 416 Thebes and Sparta 393 See also “Philip II,” “Rome (state); the Romans”

Treaties of peace between Antigonos and Seleucos 122 between Athens and Philip II 74, 87–88 between Athens and Sparta 19, 31 between Demetrios and Cassander 131 between Miletus and Heraclea by Latmus 430 between Miletus and Magnesia 286–287, 289 between Philip V and the Aetolians 147, 313, 366 between Ptolemy (I) and Cassander 130, 131 between Ptolemy (I) and Demetrios 130, 131, 132 between Rome and Carthage 166, 183, 186–187, 188, 189, 193, 195, 214, 245, 253, 262 between Rome and the Illyrians 169, 189, 214, 219, 232 between Rome and Philip V (first: the “peace of Phoenice”); see “Philip V” between Rome and Philip V (second); see “Philip V,” “Perseus” between Rome and Syracuse 443 between Sparta and Argos 24, 410 between Sparta and Mantinea 25 between Sparta and Persia (411) 25, 407, 410 between Thebes and Corinth (the “peace of 366–365”) 59, 177, 353, 390, 399–402, 404–406, 408 the peace of 311 120–123, 127–129, 131, 132, 140, 356 the peace of 362–361 55, 57, 59–62, 76, 353, 396, 401, 406 the peace of Nicias 22, 31, 229, 256, 397, 410, 428 the peace of Philocrates 67–71, 73–74, 77, 81, 193, 384, 408, 417 as allegedly a “common peace” 68, 71, 72 the first amendment 67–68, 70, 71 the second amendment 56, 68, 70–73, 127, 195, 353, 405, 408 the Thirty Years peace 16–18, 22, 410 See also “Rome (state); the Romans,” “Treaties of Peace,” “Treaties of Peace, clauses in”

Index of Names and Subjects Treaties of Peace the Athens Peace of 371 48, 50, 63, 64, 200, 353, 389, 403, 405 the abstention of Elis 51 the abstention of Sparta 43, 48, 51, 91, 391–397, 403, 405 the abstention of Thebes 48, 51, 64, 91, 353, 393, 395 and the “sanctions clause” 50, 61, 66, 88, 401 and the Second Athenian Confederacy 43, 51, 52, 59–61, 64, 75–78, 88, 195, 389, 396, 397, 401 as allegedly a “common peace” 74 the oath of 50, 54, 392–393 the (failed) Peace of 392 26, 177, 407 the (failed) Peace in the early 360s 53, 54, 58, 396 the (failed) Thebes Peace (the Peace of Pelopidas) of 367 49, 57, 61– 64, 75, 90, 195, 353, 390, 393, 395, 396, 399–406, 408 the King’s Peace (the “peace of Antalcidas”) of 386 4, 22, 27, 28, 40, 41, 44–46, 47, 48, 50–55, 56, 61–66, 75–78, 82, 88, 93, 94, 127, 140, 174, 177, 178, 195, 200, 279, 289, 352–354, 359, 361, 371, 373, 384, 388, 393, 395, 397, 407–410 and military alliances 22, 28–31, 33, 45, 52, 75, 78, 91, 92, 110, 289, 352–353, 362, 382, 392, 400, 401 as allegedly a “common peace” 27, 55–59, 66, 75–76 championed by Athens 35–36, 38, 48, 70, 395 championed by the King and the Spartans 28, 35, 60, 70, 94, 392–394, 406, 409 later reinterpretations 32, 36, 38, 41, 60, 75–76, 92, 110, 200, 352, 353, 361, 394, 395, 408, 409 the Macedonian Peace 5, 67, 73–77, 83, 87, 90, 91, 110, 133, 195, 354 the abstention of Sparta 76, 77, 95, 140, 323 and military alliances 77–90, 92, 96, 325, 368 as allegedly a “common peace” 3–74, 78, 87

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competing against the King’s Peace 50, 82, 90–95, 110, 140 the membership 76–78, 83, 87, 89, 92, 96, 109, 110, 140 the Peace of 375 41, 43–46, 50, 53, 60, 63, 127–128, 195, 196, 200, 229, 353, 387, 388, 395, 396, 399, 408, 410 the alleged abstention of Thebes 42, 48, 385, 388–389, 393–396, 403 and the King’s Peace 41, 44, 46, 48, 51–52, 394 and military alliances 43, 64, 66, 75, 78, 385, 388, 389, 392, 400, 401 as allegedly a “common peace” 57, 61 championed by the King and the Spartans 57, 61, 402–403 the status of Athens and Sparta 41–42, 43, 91, 387 Diodoros’s information about 42–43, 45, 52, 57, 393, 402–403 the Peace of the Successors (311) 120, 124, 127–128, 129, 131, 132, 197, 356 as allegedly a “common peace” 122–123, 129 the Sparta Peace of 371 43–45, 48, 51, 52, 60, 61, 63, 127–128, 195, 200, 353, 371, 373, 384, 388, 392, 393, 395–397, 402, 403 the abstention of Thebes 45, 48, 51, 58, 64, 91, 353, 387, 388, 393, 395 as allegedly a “common peace” 58 as backed by the King 45, 52, 53, 403, 405 and military alliances 21, 45, 49, 64, 66, 78, 384, 388, 389, 392, 395, 397, 400–401, 405 See also “The ‘common peace’ (koine eirene),” “Isocrates,” “League: the League of Corinth,” “Rome (state); the Romans: the pax Romana,” “Treaties of Peace, clauses in” Treaties of Peace, clauses in the “autonomy clause” 18, 24–30, 43–46, 50–52, 54, 56, 58, 61–66, 72, 73, 110, 324, 352, 353, 394, 400, 409, 410. See also “Autonomy (autonomia)” the “demilitarization clause” 45, 66 first in the Sparta Peace of 371 45 the “garrison clause” 44, 45, 50, 53, 66, 107, 118, 210, 353, 357, 409, 410 first in the Peace of 375 45

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Treaties of Peace, clauses in (Continued) the “sanctions clause” 50–52, 59–62, 65, 66, 77, 88, 91, 354, 395, 397, 403 first in the Athens Peace of 371 50 the “territorial clause” 22, 24, 25, 45, 66, 69, 71, 73, 92, 166, 353, 357, 397, 405, 407–410 Triphylia 52, 58, 160 Troezen 22 Troy 153, 185. See also “Ilium” Tullus Hostilius 201 Tyche 338, 339, 341 Ultimatum by Rome to Philip V in 200; see “Philip V” Valerius Antias 160, 281, 443 Valerius Maximus 245, 281, 438, 443 Valerius Messala, M. 229, 230, 233, 276 Velleius, Paterculus M. 245 Villius Annalis, L. 438 Virgil 371, 372 War the Achaean war; see “Achaea; the Achaeans” the Allied war 147, 148, 312, 366 between Sparta and Thebes (371) 29, 31, 40, 43, 45–47, 49–51, 85, 86, 91, 388 the Chremonidean war 136 the Corinthian war 26, 394, 396, 407 the Cretan war 286, 433–436 the two Illyrian wars 13, 143, 145, 162, 214, 441 the Lamian war (the “Hellenic war”) 80, 87, 107, 108, 110, 112, 113, 208, 280 Macedonian war, the First 162 Macedonian war, the Second 8, 10, 143, 151, 166, 175, 184, 185, 188, 194, 198, 200, 230, 252, 279, 313, 359, 361

reinterpreted as a war for Greek freedom 167–169, 173, 176–179, 185, 206, 218, 289, 359, 361. See also “Aetolia; the Aetolians,” “Philip V” Macedonian war, the Third 11, 160, 213, 291, 294, 297–299, 301, 304, 306, 307, 310, 311, 317, 318, 323, 324, 326, 328, 329, 330, 332, 335, 336, 339, 345, 348, 349, 367. See also “Perseus,” “Rhodes; the Rhodians” the Peloponnesian war 4, 6, 10, 15, 18, 20, 21, 24–26, 28, 30, 38, 63, 66, 351, 369 the propaganda warfare between Athens and Sparta 16, 18, 20, 21, 361 Punic war, the First 8, 232, 234, 235, 247, 272, 442 Punic war, the Second 149, 166, 183, 186, 193, 195, 253, 262 Punic war, the Third 152, 156–157, 187, 240–241, 270–271 Roman war against Antiochos III; see “Antiochos III (Megas)” Sacred war, the Third 72, 78, 416, 417. See also “Philip II” Syrian war, the Fifth 167, 169, 191, 212, 215, 285–286, 436 Syrian war, the Sixth 292, 294. See also “Rhodes; the Rhodians” See also “Rome (state); the Romans” Xenophon 15, 29, 30, 33, 35, 45, 46, 48–50, 54, 57–59, 85, 86, 242, 381, 382, 384, 386, 387, 389–393, 399–401, 406, 409 Xerxes 159, 428 Zacynthus

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