Rome and the Third Macedonian War 1316221636, 9781316221631

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Introduction

Polybius of Megalopolis, the second-century Greek historian,1 begins his account of the rise of Rome to great-power status with a rhetorical question: “is there anyone so worthless and lazy,” he writes, in his typical combative fashion, “who would not wish to know how and under what system of government nearly the entire world in less than fifty-three years has fallen under the sole rule of the Romans – something that has never happened before?” Perhaps less well known is his follow-up question: “or again, is there anyone so passionately consumed by other spectacles or studies that he regards anything of greater importance than this knowledge?”2 The end point of this fifty-three year period, and the point at which the Mediterranean world was changed forever, in his view, under the unipolar control of Rome, was the destruction of the kingdom of Macedon in 168– 167 at the end of the so-called Third Macedonian War The modern world indeed seems to have been “consumed by other … studies.” As the final stage on Rome’s journey to becoming the Mediterranean’s sole remaining superpower,3 the Third Macedonian War certainly deserves wider currency than it presently enjoys among students of history. Not only did it witness the destruction of the Macedonian kingdom – a going concern since the seventh century, the cradle of the ruling houses of the Temenids and Antigonids, birthplace of Philip II and Alexander the Great, and the crucible for Greco-Macedonian empires stretching east from the Balkans to the borders of modern Pakistan, and south to the Nile’s first cataract. The war also altered a de facto Mediterranean balance of 1 2

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All dates are bc unless otherwise stated. τίς γὰρ οὕτως ὑπάρχει φαῦλος ἢ ῥᾴθυμος ἀνθρώπων ὃς οὐκ ἂν βούλοιτο γνῶναι πῶς καὶ τίνι γένει πολιτείας ἐπικρατηθέντα σχεδὸν ἅπαντα τὰ κατὰ τὴν οἰκουμένην οὐχ ὅλοις πεντήκοντα καὶ τρισὶν ἔτεσιν ὑπὸ μίαν ἀρχὴν ἔπεσε τὴν Ῥωμαίων, ὃ πρότερον οὐχ εὑρίσκεται γεγονός, τίς δὲ πάλιν οὕτως ἐκπαθὴς πρός τι τῶν ἄλλων θεαμάτων ἢ μαθημάτων ὃς προυργιαίτερον ἄν τι ποιήσαιτο τῆσδε τῆς ἐμπειρίας; (Polyb. 1.1.5–6). Eckstein 2013: 89.

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power that had existed, more or less unchanged, since the death of Alexander. As Polybius recognized, what had been a Greco-Macedonian world for over 150 years had become, by 168, a Roman world. From this point on, he writes, “the growth and progress of Roman domination was now complete, and in addition, this was now the universal and inescapable fact of life – that from now on all had to listen to the Romans and obey their orders.”4 Despite having rethought the structure of his Histories as writing progressed, adding a further ten books to his original plan of thirty, in order to allow his readers to reflect and pass judgment on Roman rule between 167 and 146,5 Polybius never changed his mind about the world-historical significance of Rome’s final victory over Macedon. One might, of course, quibble with his view for a number of reasons, not least of which is his personal investment in the war and its outcome, having been an apparently reluctant participant while it was taking place, and then a political victim of its result. In 169, as Achaean League hipparchos (cavalry commander, second in command to the annually elected Achaean commander-in-chief, the stratēgos), Polybius tried to walk a fine line between actively supporting the Roman war effort, and keeping League troops (and resources) out of it.6 After the war was over, he was among the thousand Achaean “unreliables” who are said to have been rounded up and deported to exile in Italy.7 There, he was allowed to live in Rome, where he had access to eyewitnesses to and participants in the recent war. As will be seen later, his own personal experiences and those of his informants – to say nothing of his contempt for the Antigonid kings of Macedon, especially the last one, Perseus  – may have clouded his historical judgment at times. On the other hand, the historical reliability and integrity of Polybius’ account of the Third Macedonian War can only be assessed on the basis of the few fragments of it that remain. The lion’s share of what he originally wrote must be inferred from our main surviving historical source for the war, the lacunose and 4

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ὅ τε γὰρ χρόνος ὁ πεντηκοντακαιτριετὴς εἰς ταῦτ᾽ ἔληγεν, ἥ τ᾽ αὔξησις καὶ προκοπὴ τῆς Ῥωμαίων δυναστείας ἐτετελείωτο· πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ὁμολογούμενον ἐδόκει τοῦτ᾽ εἶναι καὶ κατηναγκασμένον ἅπασιν ὅτι λοιπόν ἐστι Ῥωμαίων ἀκούειν καὶ τούτοις πειθαρχεῖν ὑπὲρ τῶν παραγγελλομένων (Polyb. 3.4.2–3). Cf. Walbank 1974: 21: after Pydna, “Rome enjoyed virtual supremacy, and the balance of power was dead (as indeed Polybius wrote his Histories to demonstrate).” Polyb. 3.4–5.6. Rather than deliver Achaean League troops to Q. Marcius Philippus, the consul of 169, he merely showed him a copy of the League decree authorizing the full muster. Polybius also secured the authorization of Marcius (backed up by a senatus consultum of the previous year) to deny League troops to Ap. Claudius Centho in Epirus (Polyb. 28.12–13; below, Chapter 6). For Polybius’ advocacy of a “soft balancing” policy vis-à-vis Rome during the Third Macedonian War, see now Burton 2011: 183–4 and 213–16. Paus. 7.10.7–12.

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deeply corrupted text of the ninth and final extant pentad of Livy’s Ab Urbe Condita, which happens to survive in only a single manuscript. The story of Rome’s rise from a regional Italian power to an international power of the first rank has often been told and needs no extensive recapitulation here.8 Her victories over Carthage in the First and Second Punic Wars (264–241 and 218–201, respectively) upset the western Mediterranean de facto balance of power in Rome’s favor. Some of the spoils from those wars that fell to Rome included the islands of Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica, as well as two Spanish provinces. Through a series of on-again, off-again wars with her perennial Celtic foes in northern Italy, Rome had also come into possession of most of the rich and fertile Po Valley across Italy’s northern tier. The Romans’ attention had also been drawn eastward, toward Illyria and Greece beyond. They fought and won two short wars in 229 and 219 against the Ardiaean rulers of Illyria on Macedon’s western flank. As a result, and in contrast to the provincialization of the West, a group of hyper-vigilant Roman friends, amici, dotted the western shoreline of the Balkan peninsula, keeping the Roman senate abreast of developments there, especially those that threatened to endanger their own, and, by extension, Rome’s security and position.9 Internally, Rome remained an imperial Republic, as she had been for centuries before her transmarine expansion. The traditional rule of the mixed patricio-plebeian aristocracy had been affirmed and strengthened in the crisis of the Second Punic War. In that conflict, Hannibal had brought Rome to the edge of extinction, in Italy itself, but was kept at bay, and finally defeated, by Rome’s aristocratic, senatorial generals. The enormous manpower resources at their command in Italy helped immeasurably, of course, but the conservative, tradition-minded citizen-soldiers did not see it that way. For them, it was leaders like the brilliant tactician P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus who had brought them through the crisis – and conferred on them great spoils. The result was the popular cession of the majority of foreign policy decision-making to senatorial control. Declarations of war remained the people’s sovereign right, of course, and, as will be seen shortly, the people still could deny a consul’s first attempt to have an overseas war declared. But the day-to-day business of international relations – the dispatching of envoys and commissioners, the sanctioning of their activities and decisions, and the implementation of their advice 8 9

See, most recently (and brilliantly), Rosenstein 2012. On international amicitia generally, see Burton 2003 and 2011. On Rome’s Illyrian amici in particular, see now Burton 2011: 136–41.

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during the crucial escalation phase on the road to major wars – was now in the hands of a relatively tiny group of 300 senators. The rise of the promagistracy, designed to cope with the ever-increasing number of prouinciae (assignments, or commands, rather than concrete geographical zones of administration),10 made the traditional senatorial allotment of magisterial responsibilities a much higher-stakes procedure than before. Unlike the magistrates with imperium – the consuls, the praetors – the proconsuls and propraetors (to say nothing of the homines priuati cum imperio, such as Scipio Africanus had been when he was assigned the Spanish command in 210) were largely unaccountable to the people (as deputies of the senate or the consuls, they did not have to render an account of their conduct in office before the people at the end of their terms),11 and could dispense favors to their friends, hangers-on, and subordinates, and deliver punishments to their political rivals and enemies, at will. The stage had been set by the victory of Scipio Africanus over Hannibal. The competition for major war-time commands, through which one could achieve victory and glory, and of course, vast wealth through spoliation and plunder, intensified, with predictably dire consequences, in the view of the ancient literary sources, for Roman character and behavior. The story of late Antigonid Macedon is more opaque. This is not solely a function of our surviving literary sources’ hostility to Rome’s Macedonian antagonists, and their lack of interest in Macedonian institutions,12 but also owes something to the minefield that comprises the modern debate over Macedonian identity politics. In recent years, a significant scholarly by-product of this debate, the “new Macedonian history” movement, has revolutionized the study of the Macedonian kingdom in antiquity.13 One area of research in particular has raised important (and controversial) questions about the relationship of the Macedonian king to the disparate parts of his kingdom, its various administrative units/districts, and its cities. The traditional scenario of a unified kingdom under the firm control of a strong, centralized

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Richardson 2008. Accountability of promagistrates to senate or consuls: Lintott 1999: 113–15; accountability of consuls to the people: Polyb. 6.15.10. Hatzopoulos 1996: 265. Ma 2011: 524, describing Hatzopoulos 1996 and, more briefly, 2015. The main virtue of Hatzopoulos’ study is that it moves the discussion forward from the somewhat sterile debate over the nature of the Macedonian monarchy – whether it was “constitutional,” and thus limited, or “autocratic,” and therefore absolutist. For a recap, see Borza 1990: 231–52 and 1993: 31–5; Anson 2010: 9–10; King 2010: 374–5, 390–1 (all fairly partisan in favor of the autocratic position).

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monarchy has been complicated by more nuanced readings of the wellknown ancient literary and numismatic evidence in the light of recent epigraphic discoveries. The corpus of Macedonian inscriptions, some of them only recently published, may indeed point to a kind of two-tiered Macedonian “commonwealth.” From at least the time of Antigonus Gonatas (r. 277–239), these texts consistently refer to “the king and the [community/land of the] Macedonians.”14 This has compelled scholars to revisit the traditional dates assigned to coins struck by regional, apparently autonomous mints in Macedonia. These can no longer be assigned to the last days of Perseus’ reign, just before the Roman postwar settlement, but clearly belong to as early as the reign of Philip V – ca. 187, and perhaps even earlier.15 This, in turn, means that the division of Macedonia into four self-governing, semi-autonomous administrative units (merides) in 167 was not carried out by the Romans ex nihilo, but in fact reflects regional divisions within the kingdom going back to the reign of Philip II (Map 3).16 The people of the diverse Macedonian poleis (in the Old Kingdom and Chalcidice),17 sympoliteiai (groups of villages – komai – administratively joined to a metropolis, mostly in the “New Lands” west of the Axius River),18 and ethnē (politeiai, “regional groupings of rural communities,” mostly in Upper Macedonia),19

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IG XI 4.1097 (from Antigonus [Doson] and the Macedones); IG XI 4.1102 (from “the community of the Macedones,” τὸ κοινὸν Μ̣[ακε]δ̣ό̣ν̣[ων], to king Philip [V] ); SEG 29.795 (from Philip [V] and the Macedones); SEG 12.373 ll. 35–55 (Antigonus [Gonatas] and “the other Greeks and Macedonians,” τοὺς ἄλλους Ἕλληνας καὶ Μακεδόνας); SEG 12.373 ll. 18–34 (Antigonus [Gonatas] and the Macedonians); SEG 12.373 ll. 1–17 (“Antigonus [Gonatas], the city of the Cassandreans, and all the other Macedonians,” τὸν βασιλέα Ἀντίγονον καὶ τὴν Κασσανδρέων πόλιν καὶ πρὸς τοὺς λοιποὺς Μακεδόνας πάντας; τὸν βασιλέα Ἀντίγονον καὶ τὴν ἡμετέραν πόλιν καὶ Μακεδόνας πάντας); SEG 12.374 (“Antigonus [Gonatas], the people of Pella, and the rest of the land of the Macedonians,” τὸν βασιλέα Ἀντίγονον καὶ πρὸς Πελλαίους καὶ τὴν λοιπὴν χώραν τὴν Μακεδόνων; τὸν βασιλέα Ἀντίγονον καὶ πρὸς Μακεδόνας). Discussion:  Papazoglou 1983; Hatzopoulos 1996: 219–20. Koukouli-Chrysanthaki 1981: 240; Hammond 1989: 384–5, 388; Hatzopoulos 1996: 231–2, 245–7, 250–62 (dating Philip V’s minting reforms to 188/7 (260 n. 7)), and 2015: 337; Kremydi-Sicilianou 2007 and 2009; Dahmen 2010: 49 and n. 33. Meloni 1953: 75 n. 2 believed that Philip V tolerated local minting “to increase circulation and the income from the mines.” Hatzopoulos 1996: 42, 231–60, 473–86, and 2015: 321, 337. The traditional scholarly description of the Roman merides (called regiones and partes by Livy) as “Republics” is misleading (Hatzopoulos 1996: 229). Hatzopoulos 1996: 105–22. Hatzopoulos 1996: 51–75 (the example of Gazoros and nearby komai, based on the testimony of SEG 45.763, dated to either 216/15 (or 215/14) or 174/3). These were not tribal states, but “federations of self-governing villages and townships organized not on a ‘gentilic’ but on a local, geographical, basis”; see Hatzopoulos 1996: 77–104 (quotation from 103); cf. 220 (whence the quotation in the main text).

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enjoyed self-government at the local level, each with its own magistrates (epistatēs, politarchēs, etc.), council (boulē), and assembly (ekklēsia).20 Polybius’ suggestion, that the Macedonians “were freed by the Romans from significant civil strife and partisan massacres” that prevailed under the kings, incidentally confirms this picture of local political disputes, and thus, political self-determination beyond the complete control or concern of the kings.21 These communities were by no means fully autonomous – they had no independent foreign policy, for example,22 and the land they occupied was entirely subject to the king’s discretion as “spear-won land”23 – but the king, so far as we can tell, did not suppress their freedom of political expression.24 This stands to reason, for the king was answerable and, in traditional Macedonian fashion, accessible to his people. Twice a year, at Pella or Aegae (at the panegyreis marking the vernal and autumnal equinoxes), the king, together with “the leading men” (protoi, that is, his closest companions, Friends, and commanders), sitting formally as a probouleutic Council (synedrion), 20

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On the epistatēs/politarchēs as a local civic official, as opposed to a royal functionary (per Walbank 1984: 228; Hammond 1989: 391–5; Errington 1990: 230, 232–4), see Hatzopoulos 1996: 78–9 n. 2, 149–65, 372–429, 489, and 2015: 339. Koukouli-Chrysanthaki 1981 is agnostic on this point, but the inscription she discusses (SEG 31.614) proves Holleaux’s (1897:  452–55) hunch that such officials were not introduced by the Romans after Pydna (cf. also Hatzopoulos 1996: 134–38). On the local boulai and ekklēsiai, see Hatzopoulos 1996: 129–49 and 2015: 321–2. A good summary of the structure and function of local government is Hatzopoulos 2015: 332–7. Μακεδόνες … κατὰ πόλεις ἐκλυθέντες ἐκ μεγάλων στάσεων καὶ φόνων ἐμφυλίων διὰ τῆς [χάριτος, ὠφέλειας, uel sim.] Ῥωμαίων (Polyb. 36.17.13). As far as I can tell, no scholar has invoked this evidence in the debate over the pre-167 existence of the merides and the regional power structures within them. Hatzopoulos 1996: 365–9. For his powers see Arist. Pol. 1285b (who was, of course, in a good position to know); Dem. 1.4; cf. 18.235 (who was motivated to exaggerate, but fundamentally agrees with Aristotle). Hammond 1989: 389, 1993: 19–21, and 2000: 157–8, with sources there cited. An inscription, SEG 13.403, records Philip V’s transfer of land in Greia (in Elimia or Eordaea) from a certain metoikos Corragus to Nicanor the tetrarchēs and his men. This demonstrates as well as anything that all Macedonian lands were entirely at the disposal of the Macedonian king. Discussion: Rostovtzeff 1941:  1471 n.  39; cf. Hatzopoulos 1996:  95–101, 435 n.  7, who, however, denies royal ownership of all but the so-called “royal estates” (99–100 n. 4 and 2015: 333), and believes, despite the kings’ well-documented assertions to the contrary (mei regni, meae dicionis:  Livy 42.41.13 [Philip V]; τὰ βασιλικά:  Plut. Alex. 15.4 [Alexander the Great]), that the monarch was a mere caretaker of Macedonian communal property  – a mere “administrator of Crown property [but] not its real owner” (433). There is no evidence for the king interfering in the internal political affairs of the communities, unless the political leaders and their families that Philip V deported from the cities to the barbarian wilds of Emathia, discussed at Polyb. 23.10.1-11, is an oblique reference to stasis-correction. But it seems clear from the passage that the king was less worried about internal disputes than the potential defection of the cities and their leaders during his upcoming war against Rome. This is, once again (and incidentally), good evidence for the politarchs and epistatai being locally chosen officials rather than royal functionaries (above, n. 20; the passage is oddly overlooked by Hatzopoulos).

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consulted the will of the people in plenary sessions of the common assembly (koinē ekklēsia) of the Macedonians, in the first instance a civilian (as opposed to a military) organ of state.25 This reinterpretation of the organization and power structures in the kingdom of Macedon has forced a reconsideration of passages in the literary sources that have conventionally been overlooked and/or deliberately misinterpreted/emended to fit preconceived notions about the nature of the Macedonian state, and the level of innovation achieved by the Romans in the settlement of Macedonia in 167. The preamble to the treaty between Carthage and Philip V, struck in 215, and copied verbatim by Polybius, refers to the Macedonian side of the agreement as “king Philip, the Macedonians, and the allies.”26 The Isthmian decree, declaring the freedom of the Greeks in 196, refers to the Roman conquest of “king Philip and the Macedonians.”27 Closer to the concerns of this study is a passage in which Livy happens to mention delegations of the Macedonian cities (legationes ciuitatium Macedoniae) arriving at Citium in 171, where Perseus was busy assembling his forces on the eve of the Third Macedonian War. The ambassadors offered the king as much money and grain as they could supply for the war effort; the king duly thanked them, but refused the cities’ offers, instead requisitioning from them wagons to transport his vast war materiel.28 Taken together, and in light of the epigraphic and numismatic material, the evidence paints a far more complex picture of the nature of the Macedonian state than was apparent less than a half-century ago. The kingdom of Macedon was neither a fully integrated, unified state subject to the absolutist rule of a powerful king, nor a republican federation, such 25

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Hatzopoulos 1996:  261–322 (assembly), 323–59, 491–2 (council); cf. Hatzopoulos 2015:  331. Errington 1990: 220 doubts that the assembly had a political function, but this is probably due to gaps in our evidence (per Hatzopoulos). It is clear from Hatzopoulos’ discussion that outside the twice-yearly scheduled assemblies, the council carried on the day-to-day business of the kingdom, and when major crises supervened requiring popular consultation (e.g. when a king died), an assembly of available and accessible (i.e. nearby) Macedonians had to be hastily convened. If the crisis occurred on campaign far away from Macedonia (as when Alexander the Great died at Babylon in 323), then the assembly would consist largely of Macedonian soldiers, lending it the appearance of an exclusively military character. But it is equally clear that, if the crisis hit within the kingdom itself (as when Alexander succeeded to the throne upon the assassination of his father Philip II), the assembly would be summoned from among whatever Macedonians were nearby, whether under arms or not. Φίλιππος ὁ βασιλεὺς … καὶ Μακεδόν[ες] καὶ τῶν σύμμαχ[οι] (Polyb. 7.9.1). βασιλέα Φίλιππον καὶ Μακεδόνας (Polyb. 18.46.5). Many other passages from Polybius, Livy, and Diodorus are cited in the notes at Hatzopoulos 1996: 219–20, 261–2 n. 3; cf. Walbank 1984: 226; Hammond 1989: 382, 1993: 15, and 2000: 146. Livy 42.53.2–4.

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as the Aetolian and Achaean Leagues, but an amalgam of the two nestled within a bifurcated state framework: The kingdom of Macedon was constitutional and national as regards the relations between the king and the “Macedones,” in his realm, and … the rule of the king over the subject peoples of the spear-won lands was absolute.29 The epistatai and politarchai were no less civic magistrates than the mayors of modern France or Greece … [T]hey were answerable to the central authorities and even to their regional representatives … This situation results from the “federal” character of the Macedonian state and is independent of the monarchical … form of the central government.30 The royal versus the republican form of government is quite another question or criterion of constitutional distinction than that of the unitary versus the federal form of state. Both the King and the ethnos, the Makedones, represented the central authorities as against the particular cities and the other territorial units which constituted the Macedonian communities.31

None of this necessarily means, however, that the late Antigonids were significantly less powerful than Philip II had been in the first half of his reign, nor was Macedon a mere rump state, lacking in resources or real power in the Hellenistic East.32 True, the Antigonid kings could not possibly call upon state resources as enormous as the Ptolemies in Egypt could,33 nor was the kingdom of Macedon capable of fielding as many men as the polyglot armies of the Seleucids at their height.34 Nevertheless, as we will see, thanks to his father Philip V ’s and his own careful husbanding of Macedonia’s resources over the course of twenty-five years, Perseus had access to stockpiles of arms, money, and men, including eight million bushels of grain, and enough money to employ ten thousand mercenaries for ten years. By 171, the king was able to field an army of 43,000 men – perhaps larger than Alexander the Great himself ever commanded.35 L. Aemilius Paullus, the victor of Pydna, captured 6,000 talents of gold and silver from the royal Macedonian treasury, and displayed several hundred million sesterces in 29 30 31 32 33

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Hammond 2000: 159. Hatzopoulos 1996: 426–7. Hatzopoulos 1996: 491 (emphasis in the original); cf. Hatzopoulos 2015: 326. “A busted flush,” as one of the referees put it in his/her report on my original proposal for this study. Walbank 1984: 225, 228. According to Plutarch (Aem. 20.6), Perseus’ annual income was 200 talents. However, this was derived from land taxes, exclusive of revenues from the mines, port duties, the sale of timber and pitch, etc. Errington 1990: 223. According to Diodorus (16.8.6), the mines accounted for an annual revenue stream of a thousand talents under Philip II. Antiochus III fielded an army of 68,000 at Raphia in 217 (Polyb. 79.13), and perhaps as many as 70,000 at Magnesia in 190 (Livy 37.40, 44). See below, Chapter 5, p. 126.

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his triumph over Perseus.36 This also means, incidentally, that for all the emphasis the “new Macedonian history” places on institutions, regional units, local autonomy, and wider social forces, it remains the case that individual kings significantly influenced the shape and destiny of their kingdom, its resources, and its ends. The late Antigonids’ ace in the pack – the Macedonian phalanx – deserves more than a passing mention, for this is what the Seleucids and the Ptolemies lacked, and, by his own admission, gave Paullus the fright of his life at Pydna.37 For its initial impact, the Macedonian field army in this period still relied on the Macedonian cavalry – Alexander the Great’s weapon of choice – consisting of the elite sacred squadrons (sacrae alae) and the royal cavalry (regii equites), which, along with the regular cavalry, numbered around 3,000 in total.38 In set-piece battles, as at Pydna in 168, the Macedonian cavalry were deployed on the right, while Macedon’s allies, usually Thessalians or Thracians, held the left. The phalanx itself typically consisted of 16,000 men (although at Pydna, Perseus at first deployed a double phalanx of 12,000 men each), all native Macedonians. They carried the deadly sarissa, the long pike, which measured 16 feet or more and weighed up to 14 pounds, and round shields 30 inches in diameter by means of a strap, which allowed them to wield the sarissa with both hands. Well-trained and lightly armed, the phalangites could move fast against opposing armies, their long sarissae nullifying the enemy’s attempts to fight at close range. Deployed defensively, the phalanx was almost invincible; no soldier or horse wanted to go near the bristling wall of pikes. Meanwhile, the enemy would be steadily ground down by waves of attacks by the Macedonian cavalry, mixed units of skirmishers and archers, and the peltasts, an elite light-armed infantry unit of around 5,000 Macedonians which included the agēma, a hardened, older elite group, all armed with sarissae and smaller round shields 24 inches in diameter. 36

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Polyb. 18.35.4 (gold and silver). Vell. Pat. 1.9.6 records HS 200m, Livy 45.40.1 (from Valerius Antias), 120m, and Plin, NH 33.56, 300m (see now Briscoe 2012: 747–8). Paullus’ triumph, which took three days to complete, displayed the massive resources of the kingdom to the astonishment of all (Diod. Sic. 31.8.10–12; Livy 45.40.1–8; Plut. Aem. 32.2–34.8). Rostovtzeff 1941: 252 recognized that the kingdom “was certainly prosperous in the reigns of Antigonus Gonatas and his successors,” and (623) “the resources of Macedonia during the reigns both of Philip [V] and Perseus were still large. Both rulers did their best to develop them and derived an ample revenue from the [kingdom].” See also Gruen 1982: 259 (“the state had evidently accumulated staggering wealth in a mere thirty years”). For what it is worth, Polybius says (31.22.3) that Paullus died in (relative) poverty, even though he had access to the “massive treasure” (μεγίστων θησαυρῶν) of Macedon. Polyb. 29.17.1; Plut. Aem. 19.2. Their lack of access to a reliable supply of native Macedonian troops always put the Seleucids and Ptolemies at a disadvantage. Livy 42.51.9 (3,000), 58.8–9 (regii equites, sacrae alae).

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In attack mode, the phalanx was equally formidable, the relatively light weight of the phalangite panoply contributing to its momentum, which intensified its impact during the initial clash with the opposing, typically more heavily armed enemy infantry. That initial success could only be sustained, however, provided the ground was smooth enough and the men kept their tight formation, one of the keys to the phalanx’s success. If the formation broke up, opposing soldiers could insinuate themselves into the gaps, where the phalangites’ light armour, wicker shields, and daggers were no match for the heavily armed legionaries or hoplites armed with broad swords. As will be seen later – spoiler alert – at Pydna, unfortunately for Perseus, despite a fortuitous beginning, when the Macedonians almost effortlessly held off the Romans by standing their ground, the phalanx soon lost its formation by pursuing their advantage and advancing across uneven terrain, leading to disaster.39 Thus far the circumstances of the major protagonists. Something should also be said about the supporting cast in the story that follows. Ptolemaic Egypt and the Seleucid empire (often referred to, in overly reductionist fashion, as “Syria,” or “the Syrian kingdom” after its urbanized, Hellenized heartland) emerged, alongside Macedon, as two of the three major postAlexander Hellenistic kingdoms. These three major powers, differently resourced and strategically positioned in such a way that none was ever able to undermine one or both of the others completely, lived in a state of grudging de facto balance of power, and were in an almost constant state of war with each other.40 In the period covered by this study, Ptolemaic Egypt, in addition to having to deal with periods of native revolt, experienced unfortunate periods of weakness at the royal center, with childkings, feuding siblings, and powerful regents and advisors undermining the kingdom’s ability to grapple with its perennial enemies the Seleucids, particularly over possession of Coele-Syria (roughly modern Lebanon, Israel, and Palestine). The Seleucids, by contrast, enjoyed a resurgence in its fortunes after a long period of instability, beginning with the ascension to the throne of Antiochus III (r. 223–187). This vigorous 20-year-old went on to reconquer Alexander the Great’s empire to the borders of India and reclaim his ancestral possessions in Asia Minor and Thrace. His defeat by Rome in the Syrian War (192–188), discussed later, was a minor setback by comparison to the restored fortunes of the Seleucid house for which 39 40

On the Antigonid army see now Sekunda 2010: 459–64. In the 163 years between Alexander’s death and 160, there were only around five years in which none of the major kingdoms was involved in war: Eckstein 2006: 83.

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11

he bears responsibility. His son and eventual successor, Antiochus IV, was equally energetic in expanding Seleucid power and, as will be seen, may have played a major role in causing Rome significant consternation about developments in the eastern Mediterranean in the mid-170s. One area of Asia Minor the Seleucids were unable to restore to their control was the territorially small kingdom centered on the citadel of Pergamum in northwestern Anatolia. The dynasts of Pergamum had broken away from the Seleucid empire during the period of chaos before Antiochus III’s accession to the throne, but even Antiochus was unable to bring the ruling Attalid house to heel. In the fourth decade of his rule, Attalus I made a bold and fateful move, aligning his kingdom with an interloper in eastern affairs, the western state of Rome, currently fighting for its life against Hannibal of Carthage. In winter 209/8, Attalus became a Roman amicus, “friend,” and joined Rome’s fight against the Macedonian king Philip V, who had joined Hannibal in his war against Rome. The Pergamene kingdom was subsequently able to use its relationship with Rome as leverage in regional conflicts against local second-tier competitors, against the Seleucid empire, and against Macedon itself, of course. After receiving significant territorial gains in Thrace and Asia Minor from Rome in the settlement following the Syrian War, Pergamum, under Eumenes II, the son of Attalus I, made extensive territorial gains against regional rivals Bithynia and Pontus. In addition to Pergamum, Asia Minor was dominated by its main rival kingdom of Bithynia, located on the western end of the south coast of the Black Sea. It, too, was a kingdom that broke away from the control of the major Hellenistic powers, and in this period opposed Rome’s allies, especially Pergamum, rather than Rome directly. Other minor Anatolian states drift in and out of the story. The Galatians were eastern Celts who invaded Greece and Asia Minor in the 280s and 270s and eventually settled in central northern Anatolia at the invitation of Nicomedes I of Bithynia. Attalus I famously fended off a Galatian attack, declared himself king of Pergamum, and commemorated his achievement in the famous statue group featuring “the Dying Gaul.” The Galatians remained a good source of mercenaries for many states down to the period covered here. The island republic of Rhodes, off the southwest coast of Asia Minor, enjoyed diplomatic relations with Rome, according to one source, from ca. 306. During the Hellenistic period, the Rhodians fiercely protected their independence from the major Hellenistic powers but remained steadfastly loyal to Ptolemaic Egypt. The citadel and harbor of Rhodes famously survived an attempt to end Rhodian autonomy and the Ptolemaic connection once

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Rome and the Third Macedonian War

and for all when Demetrius, the son of Antiogonus the One-Eyed, unsuccessfully besieged them for a year, earning the ironic nickname Poliorcetes, “the Besieger.” The famous Colossus of Rhodes, a giant statue of Helios built to commemorate the victory, bestrode the harbor of Rhodes until it collapsed in an earthquake in 227/6. The Rhodians instinctively sided with Rome in its wars against Philip V and the Syrian War, earning significant gains in southern Asia Minor as a reward for their services in the latter war. Mainland Greece in this period was dominated by federal leagues, confederations of several states (city-states as well as rural groupings, ethnē) bound together by ethnicity, custom, religion, as well as geography, politics, and for the purposes of defensive advantage or geostrategic balancing. The Aetolian League had emerged from its heartland in northwest Greece on the north coast of Gulf of Corinth as a political force to be reckoned with after confronting Celtic invaders in Greece in the 270s and defending the sacred shrine of Delphi against their attacks. The Delphic Amphictyony, a religious league of twelve states of varying membership that managed the sanctuary (including the regions of Malis, Locris, Phocis, and Phthiotic Achaea in central Greece), enrolled the Aetolians as its most powerful member shortly thereafter. Aetolian influence expanded to Phocis and Locris and into the Peloponnese as well. This set the stage for their major rivalry, especially visible in the period covered here, with the Achaean League. The Aetolians, like Attalus I in 209/8, made a fateful decision in late 211 and became Rome’s first overseas ally, signing a treaty agreeing to participate in Rome’s war against Philip V. The Aetolians and their allies were traditional rivals of the Macedonians for various reasons, not least of which in this period because of the Macedonian alliance with Aetolia’s regional rival the Achaean League. As will be seen later, the Aetolians felt that the Romans left them in the lurch during the war against Philip, and made peace with him in 206 without consulting Rome, which caused the Romans deep resentment. Subsequent relations between Rome and the League were very rocky, with mutual accusations of bad faith made often and in public, until the Aetolians invited Antiochus III to liberate Greece – from Roman oppression, it was understood. The Romans defeated the Aetolians in the war that followed and their power was much reduced. The contemporary affairs of the Aetolians’ rival, the Achaean League, are particularly well documented thanks to the survival of the history written by one of its major second-century politicians, Polybius of Megalopolis. The League was transformed in the late 280s from a small confederacy of twelve cities in the northern Peloponnese to a significant

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Introduction

13

power after the collapse of Demetrius the Besieger’s power in Greece. The League expanded its power throughout the Peloponnese under the formidable statesman Aratus of Sicyon. After a long period of opposing Macedonian power in the Peloponnese, the Achaeans allied with Antigonus III Doson in 224, and went on to side with Philip V against Rome in the First Macedonian War. Under great pressure from the Romans, the League abandoned the Macedonian alliance in 198. Throughout the period that followed, the Achaeans completed their conquest of the Peloponnese while the Romans looked the other way. A significant bone of contention that caused endless irritation to the Roman senate was the issue of the status within the League of Sparta, its most reluctant member. During this time, according to Polybius, there emerged different factions of Achaean statesmen divided on the issue of the appropriate stance for the Greek states to adopt toward Rome, ranging from independence to subservience. These divisions seemed to intensify in all the major Greek states and federations for which any evidence survives during the 170s in the run-up to the Third Macedonian War. Other mainland Greek states that make an appearance in what follows include the Boeotians, who were united in a federated league under the dominance of Thebes in this period. The cities were apparently riven by factionalism and weighed down by a significant debt crisis in the 170s. North-central Greece was dominated by the Thessalians (Map 2), whose rich, fertile plains were, to their great misfortune, an object of envy and plunder, and often the scene of battle, but which also allowed them to become great horsemen. Organized as a league in the fifth century, all of Thessaly fell under Macedonian control, where it remained until it was lost to Philip V in the Roman settlement ending the Second Macedonian War. Also lost to Philip in that war were the Perrhaebians, located on Thessaly’s western border with Macedonia (Map 2), and previously subject to Macedon since the time of Philip II. In this period, they were an independent federated state, but were suffering from a severe debt crisis. To the southwest of Thessaly were the Dolopians (Map 2), a tribal people under the contested control of Macedon and the Aetolian League in the period covered here. As will be seen, they played a crucial role in the list of pretexts for the war against Perseus provided to the Romans. To the Dolopians’ east were the Athamanians (Map 1), who had broken away from Epirote control in the mid-third century, and reached their zenith in the period covered here under their greatest king, Amynander. Sandwiched between Thessaly and Boeotia south of the Malian Gulf were

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Rome and the Third Macedonian War

Phocis and Locris, in this period both federated states under the dominance of the Aetolian League. Turning to the west coast of the Balkan peninsula (Map 1), the northern areas were dominated by the Illyrian Ardiaei, who were just one among many tribal peoples identified as Illyrians who lived around the east coast of the Adriatic. The Ardiaei provided the proximate causes for Rome’s first direct military interventions in mainland Greece in 229 and 219. They were semi-Hellenized peoples to lesser or greater degrees, much like the inhabitants of the wild country of Upper Macedonia to their southeast. The Romans established relations of informal amicitia, “friendship,” with several key cities and tribal groups along the Adriatic coast as a result of the Illyrian wars, not setting up a Roman protectorate as such, as is usually assumed, but a string of friendly states who could keep Rome apprised of events transpiring across from Italy’s eastern shores. South of Illyria was the region of Epirus, one of whose tribal groupings, the Molossians, established a monarchy in the early fourth century. They tied their fortunes to the Macedonian ruling house in 357 when Philip II married Olympias, a niece of the Molossian king Arrybas; the most famous issue of the marriage was Alexander the Great. Later Molossian kings, Alexander, brother of Olympias, and Pyrrhus, grandson of Alexander, both launched unsuccessful campaigns of western conquest, in Italy and Sicily, in 334–330 and 280–275, respectively. Alexander apparently entered diplomatic relations with Rome while Pyrrhus defeated the Romans several times in battle, but these victories were “Pyrrhic,” that is, too costly to his expeditionary army when balanced against the staunchly loyal pan-Italian Roman alliance system and the nearly inexhaustible supply of troops for the Roman legions that resulted from it. At the beginning of the period covered here, the Molossian monarchy had just been deposed and a federal league established, which went on to support Macedon in its wars with Rome, during which it fell victim to Aetolian expansion. Epirus’ southern neighbors the Acarnanians were also deeply affected by the fall of the Molossian monarchy, setting up a new federal league centered on the capital Leucas. In the period covered here, the Acarnanian League fell afoul of Rome by siding with Teuta in the First Illyrian War and attacking Corcyra, and thereafter siding with Macedon against Rome’s ally Aetolia, Acarnania’s neighbor and perennial enemy. By the 170s, the League, as in Boeotia and elsewhere, was riven by pro- and anti-Roman factions. Finally, the peripheral peoples of the Greek world play a significant role in what follows. The territory of the Thracians extended in an arc from the Hellespontine region of the northern Aegean coast up around the northern reaches of Macedonia to the Danube and west to the Axius (Vardar) river

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15

(Map 3).41 Significant numbers of Thracian tribes had been conquered and loosely controlled by Philip II and Alexander the Great, and in the division of the Hellenistic kingdoms that followed Alexander’s death, Thrace fell to Lysimachus, one of the great king’s generals. After Lysimachus’ death in 281, several Thracian dynasts established minor kingdoms, and despite Antiochus III’s attempt, ultimately frustrated by the Romans, to reassert Seleucid ancestral claims in European Thrace in the 190s, the Thracian interior remained firmly in the orbit of Antigonid Macedon as a source of allies, manpower, and plunder. Across the Danube from Thracian lands lay the territory of the south-eastern Germanic tribe, the Bastarnae. They were virtually unknown until the period covered here, when they entered diplomatic relations with Philip V and Perseus, who attempted to use them against the Dardani and perhaps Rome. The Dardani, an Illyrian people on Macedonia’s north-western tier (Map 1), were involved in a perennial struggle for independence from Antigonid control. Right at the beginning of our period, in 229, they had soundly defeated Demetrius II, who died shortly afterward. *

*

*

Finally, a word about the format of this study and the scholarship upon which it is based. A book on the Third Macedonian War hardly requires extensive recapitulation of Roman–Macedonian relations, or a full account of Rome’s interventions in the East prior to the 170s. It nevertheless seemed appropriate, for context, to provide a summary of these events in the second and third chapters, as well as a final chapter and conclusion describing the consequences of the war with Perseus. These are comparatively brief and largely devoid of reviews of points of controversy and citations of earlier scholarship, for which I refer readers to the standard works. The heart of the book is contained in Chapters 4 through 6, which, along with their associated appendices, contain the kind of exhaustive scholarly apparatus one would expect in an academic monograph. This is not, however, due only to their containing the subject matter proper of the book, but also because this is the first study of its kind in English to attempt a full narrative and analysis of the Third Macedonian War, and, by extension, the reign of Perseus.

41

Abrupolis, who figures prominently among the pretexts for the war against Perseus, was king of the Sapaei, a Thracian tribe inhabiting the northern Aegean coastal region near the Greek city of Abdera.

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Rome and the Third Macedonian War

The last comparable work appeared in 1953 in Italian – Piero Meloni’s masterful and deeply learned Perseo e la fine della monarchia Macedone. I cannot pretend to have done as skillful and painstaking a job as Meloni did, and not just for reasons of narrative economy and the constraints of modern publishers’ budgets, although these have inevitably played a role in shaping the book. In any case, I think enough time has gone by since Perseo, and enough new discoveries, scholarly reinterpretations, and advances in the field of Macedonian studies generally have taken place, to justify a fresh look in a reasonably similar level of detail. Also, unlike Meloni, the world has only recently lived through a phase of history incomparably rich in parallels with the period of the Third Macedonian War and its aftermath, in which a single great power (Rome/the United States) experienced its “unipolar moment” of geopolitical passivity (188–171/ad 1990s–2001), before being shocked into action by threats perceived or made to seem existential (the resurgence of Macedonian power/9-11), and then yielded to the “hegemon’s temptation” to intervene with force (Third Macedonian War/ Afghanistan and Iraq Wars), and without restraint (Roman atrocities during 171–170, reprisals during 168–167/torture at Guantánamo Bay, CIA “black sites,” Abu Ghraib Prison, the extensive use of drones).42 As will be seen in the final chapter and conclusion to this study, Polybius identified the period that followed the Roman victory over Perseus and withdrawal from the East as a time of “trouble and disturbance,”43 when the Mediterranean was destabilized by micro-imperialisms, and Rome was compelled to fight a series of wars to reassert its authority. This has an eerie resonance with the situation that followed the withdrawal of US forces from Iraq in ad 2011, when the “threshold of asymmetry” had seemingly been firmly established, but ISIL-ISIS-Da’esh emerged to challenge it.44 The latter, like the pretender Andriscus conquering all of Macedon within four or five months after years of trying, scored a huge, unlikely success (sweeping away the Iraqi defense forces, and seizing a huge swathe of northern Iraq), but only after slow, mostly secretive beginnings (in the mid-2000s ad), and only seizing international attention in ad 2012 as a side-show to the Syrian civil war. These events prompted fresh superpower interventions, the “Fourth Macedonian War” in the Roman case, airstrikes, and the re-entry of “military advisors and support staff” in Iraq, in the case of the US. 42

43 44

On Rome’s “unipolar moment,” see Eckstein 2006: 1–2, 306, 314, and 2008: 1, 25–7, 336–81. On the “hegemon’s temptation,” see Eckstein 2010: 242–3, and 2013: 90, following Layne 1993: 28. ταραχὴ καὶ κίνησις (Polyb. 3.4.12). On the “threshold of asymmetry,” see Eckstein 2013: 91.

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In addition to Meloni’s work, I am, of course, also indebted to those shorter and specialized accounts of the reign of Perseus and the Third Macedonian War that appeared before and after Meloni’s monograph. The seminal works of Niese, De Sanctis, and Pareti remain particularly important to the study of the period, as do the more specialized studies of Kromayer, Heiland, Helly, and Pritchett, among others. The accounts of Benecke and Derow in CAH1 and CAH2, respectively, are distinguished by their erudition and readability, and the final chapters of Hammond’s History of Macedonia III (1988) provide the most up-to-date and informative account available in English. More recently, in fact as the first draft of this book was nearing completion, Robin Waterfield’s Taken at the Flood, a popularizing history of Roman intervention in the East between 229 and 146, appeared, containing several chapters relevant to the topic.45 But the “without which this book could not have been written” laurel must go to John Briscoe’s recent monumental Commentary on Livy, Books 41–45 (2012). This tome, by far the single most cited work in the pages that follow, has made the study of the Third Macedonian War and the reign of Perseus infinitely less perilous than it has hitherto been. I hope that this book marks only the beginning of a post-Briscoe resurgence of scholarly interest in its subject matter.

45

Waterfield 2014. Its utility, for the present study, is reduced by its dependence on older scholarship and rather unsophisticated treatment of the primary sources; for a review, see Burton 2015a.

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Rome and Macedon

It is sometimes easy to forget that the Romans and Macedonians were part of a vast, interconnected world, united by proximity to the Mediterranean Sea. The two states did not develop in isolation, but had a long history of interaction well before their first conflict in the late third century. In the early months of 323, Arrian reports, a Roman embassy appeared before Alexander the Great at Babylon.1 This unlikely tale alleges that the Macedonian conqueror, struck by their orderly appearance and straightforward manner of speaking, and learning about their republican political institutions, sagely predicted greatness for the Romans.2 There also exists a report that Alexander, and later Demetrius the Besieger, demanded that the Romans rein in some pirates from Etruscan Antium, who regularly harassed the western coastline of Greece.3 Alexander’s uncle on his mother’s side, Alexander I of Epirus (“the Molossian”), invaded southern Italy in 334 and struck a treaty with Rome in 332, while engaged in operations against the Lucanians and Bruttians on behalf of the Tarentines. Livy, our main source for these events, is deeply skeptical that Alexander would

1 2

3

Arr. Anab. 7.15.5. This torch-passing story seems too good to be true. Arrian refused to vouch for it, saying he could find no trace of it in his best sources, Aristobulus and Ptolemy, nor, even more astonishingly if it were true, in any Roman source. Arrian also thought it unlikely that the Romans would have sent a delegation to a foreign and distant king from whom they had nothing to gain or fear (Anab. 7.15.6). Arrian’s authorities for the story, Aristus and Asclepiades, are little more than names to us now and probably lived long after Rome was well known to the Greeks. On the other hand, the tale apparently appeared in Cleitarchus (cf. Plin. NH 3.57), who was perhaps writing early enough (i.e. before Rome’s involvement in the wider Mediterranean world) that he lacked a motive to make it up (unless, of course, POxy LXXI.4808 proves that Cleitarchus was writing in the late third/early second century; discussion: Prandi 2012). But it is in any case hard to explain why the story does not appear in the extant sources that used Cleitarchus’ lost account (Justin and Diodorus Siculus). Bosworth 1988: 83–93 (with other literature cited at 83 n. 96) believes the tradition of a Roman embassy to Alexander is based on fact, reported by Cleitarchus, but that the reaction of Alexander, and his prediction of future Roman greatness, were later elaborations by Aristus and Asclepiades. Strab. 5.3.5 (C232).

18

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Rome and Macedon

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have adhered to the pact:  had he not been killed in action against the Lucanians, the historian repeatedly notes, the Epirote king would eventually have turned his arms against Rome as well.4 Livy is of course looking ahead to the famous Italian invasion of Alexander’s nephew and successor, Pyrrhus of Epirus, himself a cousin of Alexander the Great. The man for whom the term “Pyrrhic Victory” is named – he won many battles against the Romans, but lost too many men in the process – introduced Rome to war elephants and the Macedonian phalanx, as well as to Hellenistic diplomatic protocols.5 Word of the Roman victory over the Epirote king soon reached the courts of the great Hellenistic kings, and in 273, the Egyptian pharaoh Ptolemy II Philadelphus sought, and was granted, amicitia, “friendship,” with the Romans.6

“The Storm Clouds Appearing from the West” In 229 and again in 219, the Romans fought two short campaigns in Illyria, just across the Adriatic Sea from Italy on the northwest coast of the Balkan peninsula. Polybius marked the significance of the first Roman crossing of the Adriatic in arms with an editorial comment: “this event should not be passed over in silence, but must be studied with great care by those wishing to grasp accurately both the purpose of this work and the formation and growth of Roman dominion.”7 The first war was directed against the Illyrian Ardiaei and their queen, Teuta, as a consequence of their statesponsored piratical activities against Italian shipping in the Adriatic.8 The second was provoked by the aggression of Demetrius of Pharos, who had been given a portion of the Ardiaean kingdom as a reward for his friendship with and loyalty to Rome during the first war.9 According to Polybius, 4 5 6

7

8

9

Livy 8.3.6, 17.9–10, 24; cf. Just. Epit. 12.2; Gell. NA 17.21.33. Plut. Pyrrh. 15.1–26.2; Livy Per. 13, 14; Dion. Hal. 20.1–12. Dio fr. 41; Zon. 8.6.11; Dion. Hal. 20.14.1–2; Val. Max. 4.3.9; Just. Epit. 18.2.9; App. Sic. 1; Eutrop. 2.15; Livy Per. 14. On the many problems surrounding the embassy, see Heuss 1933: 28–9; Holleaux 1935: 60–83; Dahlheim 1968: 141–46; Errington 1971: 8–9; Gruen 1984: 62–3, 673–5; Grainger 2002: 5–8; Eckstein 2008: 201–2; Burton 2011: 107–8. On Roman contacts with the East and eastern interest in Rome before the late third century, see Walbank 1963: 2–3. ἅπερ οὐ παρέργως, ἀλλὰ μετ᾿ ἐπιστάσεως θεωρητέον τοῖς βουλομένοις ἀληθινῶς τήν τε πρόθεσιν τὴν ἡμετέραν συνθεάσασθαι καὶ τὴν αὔξησιν καὶ κατασκευὴν τῆς Ῥωμαίων δυναστείας (Polyb. 2.2.2). Polyb. 2.2–12; App. Ill. 7; Dio 12.49; Zon. 8.19. The causes of the war are discussed in Harris 1979: 195–7; Gruen 1984: 17, 56–7, 360–8 (esp. 365–6); Eckstein 2008: 29–60; Waterfield 2014: 13 (bizarrely concluding that the Romans, because they were preoccupied with the Gallic War, “were almost looking for a casus belli” against the Illyrians). On the ancient Illyrians, see now Dzino 2010. Polyb. 3.16, 18–19; App. Ill. 8; Dio 12.53; Zon. 8.20. The causes of the war are discussed in Gruen 1984: 368–73; Eckstein 2008: 60–76; Burton 2011: 262–7.

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the Romans’ decision to take action against Demetrius in 219, even though he had been technically in breach of the treaty ending the first war for several years by then, was motivated not just by the need to secure Italy’s eastern flank before the impending war with Hannibal and Carthage, but also as a hedge against the increasingly prosperous Macedonian kingdom under its vigorous and dashing new teenage king, Philip V. Demetrius had fought alongside Philip V’s predecessor and cousin, Antigonus III Doson, at the Battle of Sellasia in 222.10 That smashing victory, which resulted in the downfall of Cleomenes III of Sparta, was, according to Polybius, the reason that Demetrius was “pinning all of his hopes on the royal house of Macedon” in his upcoming conflict with the Romans.11 In this he was to be disappointed. Philip was far too preoccupied with his war against the Aetolian League (the so-called “Social War”), and then the siege of Ambracus in Acarnania, to be of any help in Demetrius’ war.12 Following his defeat at the hands of the Roman legions, Demetrius nevertheless fled to Macedon where he spent the remainder of his life at Philip’s court.13 Although, according to Polybius, Rome had given some thought to Macedon in launching the war against Demetrius,14 this was probably the first time that Philip had given any thought to Rome. As a 9- or 10-yearold, in 229, he may have overheard discussions at court of Rome’s recent victory over Illyrian Ardiaei, kin to the inland Illyrians, with whom the Macedonians waged perpetual warfare on their northwestern borderlands. He may even have heard stories or read about Rome’s epic twenty-threeyear struggle with and victory over the Carthaginians in the First Punic War (264–241), which catapulted Rome into the exclusive club of firsttier powers in the Mediterranean. The presence of Demetrius at his court, smarting from his recent brush with Roman power, no doubt deepened Philip’s knowledge of and perhaps interest in Rome. 10

11

12 13 14

For the Sellasia campaign, see Polyb. 2.65–70 (with Demetrius’ presence noted at 2.65.4); cf. Plut. Cleom. 27–9, Philop. 6. Δημήτριον τὸν Φάριον … πάσας δ᾿ ἔχοντα τὰς ἐλπίδας ἐν τῇ Μακεδόνων οἰκίᾳ (Polyb. 3.16.2–3). Discussion: Burton 2011: 263. Polyb. 4.61.1–8. Polyb. 3.19.8. Supra and Polyb. 4.29.7:  Ῥωμαῖοι καὶ θεωροῦντες ἀνθοῦσαν τὴν Μακεδόνων οἰκίαν ἔσπευδον ἀσφαλίσασθαι τὰ πρὸς ἕω τῆς Ἰταλίας (“The Romans, seeing that the royal house of the Macedonians was flourishing, were hastening to secure the eastern flank of Italy”). Because the Romans did not punish Scerdilaidas, a formal ally of Macedon, unlike Demetrius (cf. Polyb. 4.29.7), for committing essentially the same treaty violations as Demetrius (raiding south of the Lissus line, etc.), Eckstein 2008: 66 takes this to mean that the Romans did not feel threatened by Macedon. But this could just as easily mean that the Romans did not want to provoke Philip into joining in the Illyrian war by attacking his ally Scerdilaidas.

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When news of the Roman military disaster at Lake Trasimene reached Philip at Nemea in late summer, 217, Demetrius saw his chance for revenge on Rome and his restoration to power in Illyria.15 He urged Philip to put an end to the Social War, and instead turn his attention to the conquest of Illyria and an invasion of Italy. This would be the first step, Demetrius argued, on the road to Philip’s conquest of the entire world. Demetrius recognized (and Polybius agrees with him) that the young king was particularly susceptible to such advice, being personally ambitious and “descended from a house that, more than any other, was always covetous of conquering the entire world.”16 Reinforcement came a few weeks later in the form of a speech delivered by the Aetolian League statesman Agelaus of Naupactus. Agelaus argued that Greeks should not continually wear themselves out in endless internecine conflicts, but present a united front against barbarian invaders – especially at the present moment, in view of the vastness of the armies and the greatness of the war taking place in the West. For it is obvious even now to all who pay even a little attention to politics that whether the Carthaginians defeat the Romans or the Romans the Carthaginians in this war, it is highly unlikely they will remain content ruling over their Italian and Sicilian subjects, but will surely come here and expand their designs and power beyond what is just and reasonable. Therefore I beg you all, and especially Philip, to secure yourselves at this particularly dangerous moment … If Philip yearns for action, let him consider it worthwhile looking to the West and focus on the war going on in Italy, so that when the time is right he might compete for mastery of the entire world … [In the meantime], I call upon you to defer your differences with the Greeks and your wars here until you have rested enough, and give special attention to this matter above all, so that you might have the power make war or peace with others whenever you wish. For if once you wait for these storm clouds appearing from the west to settle over Greek lands, I am indeed very worried that these truces and wars and in general the games which we now play with each other will turn out to be over for all of us, so that we will pray to the gods to grant us still the power of fighting and making peace with each other whenever we wish, and in general to have the power of disputing among ourselves.17 15 16

17

On Demetrius’ motives, see Polyb. 5.108.5–6. πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ἐξ οἰκίας ὁρμώμενον τοιαύτης, ἣ μάλιστά πως ἀεὶ τῆς τῶν ὅλων ἐλπίδος ἐφίεται (Polyb. 5.102.1). For Philip’s ambitions and sincere (though false) belief that he was descended from both the Temenid and Antigonid ruling houses, see Walbank 1993. Polyb. 5.104.2–11. On the speech, see Mørkholm 1967; Deininger 1973; Mørkholm 1974; Champion 1997; Champion 2004:  55–6; Eckstein 2008:  79, 83; Waterfield 2014:  1–2. I  accept Champion’s point that the speech is for the most part authentic, especially on the issue that matters here – the storm cloud metaphor. It was apparently memorable enough to be reprised at Sparta in 210: Polyb.

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All parties responded positively to the speech – especially Philip, who was now very eager for peace. Of course, Polybius notes, Agelaus’ words converged with Philip’s own impulse, the groundwork for which had been laid by Demetrius of Pharos.18 For Polybius, Philip’s shift in focus from East to West marks the critical moment in world history when the symplokē, “the intertwining,” first occurred: from this point forward, the affairs of Greece, Italy, and Africa became intertmingled, and embassies went back and forth between the eastern and western Mediterranean. This vast, interconnected world, in contact for centuries through trade, piracy, and warfare, was now, and for the duration of world history, intertwined politically.

Philip Joins the Fray Encouraged by Demetrius and Agelaus, Philip soon began laying the groundwork for a western expedition. His first task, de rigueur for Macedonian kings about to undertake wide-ranging major wars of conquest, was to secure the frontiers of the homeland. The Illyrian warlord Scerdilaidas, former ally of both Demetrius of Pharos and Philip (and now a Roman international amicus19), had been causing trouble on Macedonia’s northwestern frontier and made deep inroads into the kingdom itself.20 After driving Scerdilaidas from Macedonia during autumn 217, over the course of the following winter Philip began constructing a fleet of one hundred light galleys (lemboi) for the planned invasion of Italy. He launched the fleet in summer 216, but as he approached the territory of Rome’s amicus Apollonia on the Illyrian coast, it was reported to him that a Roman war-fleet was on its way from Rhegium to assist Scerdilaidas. Philip, not rating the chances of his little lemboi against Roman war-ships, reversed course and retreated into Macedonia. In the event, only ten Roman ships appeared off the Illyrian coast. It was an embarrassing debacle for Philip, but, as Polybius notes, he escaped with no losses – except for his dignity.21

18 19 20 21

9.37.10. Mørkholm 1967: 244–6 (cf. Waterfield 2014: 1) is sceptical that the speech is authentic since, among other reasons, it is suspiciously similar to Polybius’ symplokē scheme (on which, see below). Champion 1997 stresses that Polybius’s scheme (however exaggerated or premature) cannot on its own prove the speech inauthentic. Polyb. 5.105.1. On this status, see now Burton 2011. On Scerdilaidas, see above, n. 14. Polyb. 5.108.1–4, 8–10. Polyb. 5.109–10; Livy 24.40; Vitr. Arch. 10.16.9–10; Plut. Arat. 51.2; Zon. 9.4.3. Polybius (5.110.9–10) interprets Philip’s retreat as panicked rather than strategic, and criticizes the king for letting slip the opportunity to become master of Illyria by giving in to irrational fear; after all, the Romans were

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But Philip’s haste to break off Illyrian operations may also be explained by another bit of intelligence that probably arrived at the same time as the report of the mobilization of the Roman fleet. The Romans had been spectacularly beaten by Hannibal’s Carthaginians at the Battle of Cannae in southern Italy in late summer, 216.22 It was time to redouble his efforts to invade Italy, to become a second Pyrrhus. To do this he would have to make contact with the victorious Hannibal. Travel was notoriously slow in the ancient world; as the incident of the lemboi demonstrates, false rumor often outran reliable intelligence. It is perhaps not surprising, then, that the first contacts and negotiations between Hannibal and Philip took place over a matter of months rather than weeks. The only reason we know of their secret negotiations is because Philip’s chief negotiator, Xenophanes of Athens, was intercepted by the Roman fleet on his return journey to Macedon in the company of the Carthaginian legates Gisgo, Bostar, and Mago.23 The Roman authorities seized the treaty document, which Polybius later accessed in the Roman archives, and reproduced in full in his Histories. The treaty was both a mutual assistance and a mutual defense pact, but its terms slightly favored Hannibal, who was envisioned as the only party entitled to decide matters of war (in Italy, at least) and peace. The treaty was in part designed to keep Philip out of Italy rather than invite him in; with Rome within an ace of being defeated, Hannibal was serving notice that Italy would soon be his patch, and that it was with himself as its master that Philip would have to deal in future.24 All the treaty promised Philip was protection from future Roman aggression by means of a clause in the eventual peace settlement between Carthage and Rome.25 Given the set of hypotheticals upon

22

23

24

25

preoccupied with the aftermath of Cannae. But the Roman ships were a manifestation of that preoccupation – and Rome’s determination to dig in and mobilize her allies and friends rather than surrender to Hannibal. Hence, as Walbank 1940: 70 recognized, the need for Philip to restrategize and make contact with Hannibal, without whose help (especially at sea) Philip could not hope to succeed in his grand plan. Discussion: Badian 1952: 90; Hammond 1968: 16–17; Errington 1971: 111–12; Gruen 1984: 375–7; Eckstein 2008: 86; Burton 2011: 235–6; Waterfield 2014: 45 (who argues that Polybius’ antipathy toward Philip has turned an orderly strategic withdrawal into a panicked retreat). According to Polybius, 70,000 Roman and allied troops were lost, 10,000 were captured, and only 370 of 6,000 cavalry and 3,000 infantry survived (Polyb. 3.117.2–4), while Livy states that 91,000 infantry and 5,400 cavalry perished, and 3,000 infantry and 1,500 cavalry were captured (Livy 22.49.15–18). Livy 23.34.1–5; cf. App. Mac. 1. Livy (23.33.6) has Xenophanes intercepted on his way to Italy as well, but this may be an error. Rosenstein 2012: 145–6. The possibility of Philip coming to Italy was at least vaguely kept open by the clause mandating Philip’s help during the war with Rome if agreed upon (Polyb. 7.9.10–11). Polyb. 7.9.13. Demetrius of Pharos was promised more by the terms of the alliance: the return of some of his friends, evidently in custody in Italy since 219 (cf. Badian 1952: 87; Walbank 1967: 56), and the Roman renunciation of their interests and friendships in Illyria (Polyb. 7.9.13–14).

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which the treaty was founded, its terms were perforce left vague, its commitments loose:  a vague promise of mutual friendship here, another of mutual protection there, with the usual escape clauses and provisos (“if necessary,” “if agreed upon,” “if required”), in addition to the formulaic ban on betraying the agreement, and the commitment to having the same friends and enemies.26 This vagueness, plus the fact that things did not, in the event, conform to Hannibal’s expectations, perhaps explains why no clear evidence of joint Carthaginian–Macedonian operations survives in the historical record.27 The so-called “First Macedonian War” was a mostly desultory affair. Without a decent fleet (and help from the Carthaginians frustratingly remote), Philip could not realistically hope to cross to Italy. His options in Illyria were limited by the presence of a Roman naval contingent of fifty ships stationed at Brundisium, a mere 75 miles away across the Adriatic as the crow flies. For their part, the Romans’ involvement in the eastern front of the war with Hannibal could never amount to anything more than a defensive holding action.28 In 211, Roman envoys cast about for allies in the East, and ended up securing a treaty of alliance with the Aetolian League, perennial enemy of Macedon, with the option of other, non-aligned states joining in later.29 With these proxies thus engaged, the Romans could devote almost their full attention to the western front (encompassing Italy, Spain, and lately Sicily as well), and restrict their military activities in Greece to patrolling the Adriatic coastline with the fleet. On land, the “First Macedonian War” would come to resemble nothing more or less than a reignition of the Social War – or, as the Greeks themselves apparently called it at the time, “The Aetolian War.”30 A brief review of events is necessary. In late summer, 214, Philip raided the Illyrian coast with 120 lemboi, attacking and taking Oricum 26

27

28

29 30

Polyb. 7.9.4 (friendship), 5–7 (protection), 8 (ban on betrayal), 8–9 (same friends and enemies), 11, 15 (provisos). Additional sources for the treaty:  Livy 23.33.9–12; App. Mac. 1; Zon. 9.4.2–3. Discussion:  Walbank 1967:  42–56; Coppola 1993:  169–94; Bederman 2001:  185–9; Pfeilschifter 2005:  73–4; Eckstein 2008:  83–5; Scherberich 2009:  158–60 (with others listed at 159 n.  10); Waterfield 2014: 45–6. The “Macedonian Legion” that was said to have fought alongside Hannibal at Zama in 202 (Livy 30.33.5, 42.7) is an invention. A Carthaginian fleet appeared in Greek waters in 208, but retreated before it could make contact with Philip – if that was its purpose (Livy 28.7.17–18, 8.8). Few scholars follow Harris 1979: 205–8 or Rich 1984, the former arguing that Rome was eager to assert greater control in Greece during the war, the latter that Roman campaigning in the East was not as sporadic or half-hearted as Livy’s surviving account seems to indicate. For a critique of these theories, see now Burton 2011: 84 n. 24, and of Rich in particular, below, n. 42. Livy 26.24.8–14. A fragment of the treaty also survives on an inscription: SEG 13.382 = IG IX 12, 241. Eckstein 2008: 77, 102.

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and laying siege to Apollonia. The Roman propraetor in charge of the fleet, M. Valerius Laevinus, quickly recovered Oricum and sent a detachment of troops to Apollonia, which easily slipped into the city by night. Another night attack, this time on the Macedonian camp near Apollonia, followed. Thanks to the lassitude of the Macedonian sentries, over a thousand Roman troops were in the camp before being detected, and in the rout that ensued, the king was roused from his bed and forced to flee for his life, half-dressed and disheveled – an indecent state barely worthy of a common soldier, much less a king, Livy caustically remarks.31 Valerius dispatched the Roman fleet to the mouth of the Aous River to prevent the Macedonians escaping by sea. Philip, still not fancying his chances against Roman war-ships, hauled his light galleys ashore, set fire to them, and retreated overland back to Macedonia.32 The loss of Polybius’ original account of the subsequent eastern campaigns, and the inadequacy of Livy’s intermittent summaries of it, obscure the course of the war for the next few years. With the Roman fleet now in full control of the Illyrian coastline, Philip turned to land operations, first in Messenia in the western Peloponnese, and then on the western fringes of the inland Illyrian states. Rome remained passive until Philip once again pushed through to the Illyrian coast by subduing Lissus in 213/ 12.33 Roman negotiations with the Aetolian League soon followed, but it was a long time before the aforementioned treaty was finally struck in late 211. Some individual and joint Roman–Aetolian operations followed in Acarnania and on the island of Zacynthus, but Philip was by now considered sufficiently entangled in the war with his neighbors that the Romans could safely withdraw from the fight for the remainder of the campaigning season.34 In 210, the Aetolians and the Romans under their new Roman commander Sulpicius Galba captured the important coastal town of Anticyra on the north shore of the Corinthian Gulf in Phocis.35 The Romans then turned their attention to diplomacy in the Peloponnese, successfully bringing Elis, Sparta, and Messenia into the anti-Macedonian coalition as Roman amici.36 After thus reigniting internecine warfare across Greece, the 31 32 33 34 35 36

Livy 24.40.2–13. Livy 24.40.16–17. Polyb. 8.13–14. Livy 26.24.15–16. Livy 26.26.1–3. Provision was made for the inclusion of Elis and Sparta in the Aetolian treaty of 211 (Livy 26.24.9). No positive evidence for these informal alliances exists, but all states concerned were active against

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Romans were now content to withdraw to a defensive posture, guarding the Adriatic coast with the fleet, and leaving the land war in the hands of their Peloponnesian and Aetolian friends. The following year, the senate evacuated all Roman land forces from Greece.37 Philip then set to work securing a marching route along the Thessalian coastline in order to link up with his Peloponnesian allies. He was shadowed by the Roman fleet, lately joined by the fleet of a new Roman amicus, Attalus I of Pergamum.38 The joint Roman–Pergamene fleet tried to slow Philip’s advance southward, but to little effect.39 The king soon reached the Peloponnese, where his Achaean League allies drew him into conflict with its arch-enemy Sparta. The Roman fleet tried to distract Philip by raiding the Peloponnesian coast, but again achieved very little.40 Meanwhile, in 209, 208, and 207, several attempts by neutral powers to mediate between Philip and Aetolia failed.41 The war dragged on as Philip became increasingly bogged down in Peloponnesian military and political disputes. Finally, in 207/6, in the face of Philip’s considerable successes on land, and Rome’s apparent indifference even to naval operations in Greece,42 the Aetolians agreed to terms with the king. This “separate peace,” struck without the Roman senate’s knowledge or approval, would become a serious bone of contention between Aetolia and Rome in the years to come.43 The Romans, after one last-ditch attempt to reverse the result of the separate peace in summer, 205,44 decided to cut their losses and negotiate with Philip. They could do little else: pursuing the war in Greece without a major ally, especially now that the final showdown with

37 38 39

40

41 42

43 44

Philip during the war and appear as adscripti on the Roman side in the Peace of Phoenice in 205. On the amicus status of the adscripti, see now Burton 2013: 213 n. 26. Livy 26.28.3, 9. On the establishment of the Roman–Pergamene friendship, see now Burton 2011: 84–7. E.g. in 210 at Echinus across the Malian Gulf from Thermopylae (Polyb. 9.41), and in 209 at nearby Lamia (Livy 27.30.1–2). Philip was victorious in both encounters. The Romans raided the Peloponnesian coastline between Sicyon and Corinth in 208, but Philip soon drove them off (Livy 27.31.1–3, 33.2). The Romans managed to install a garrison at Cyllene in Elis and fend off a Macedonian attack (during which Philip was thrown from his horse, but recovered and fought on foot “with great courage,” according to Livy), but the king escaped laden with massive spoils and in possession of the Elean fort of Phyrcus (Livy 27.32). On these initiatives, see now Eckstein 2002 and 2008: 91–116. Livy states explicitly that the Romans paid little attention to Greek affairs for two years (Livy 29.12.1), and there is no record of any activity by the Roman fleet in eastern waters for 207 or 206. Rich 1984: esp. 137–43 denies a two-year gap existed, but this requires acceptance of his arbitrarily revised chronology, which flatly contradicts Livy’s statement and his account. See now Burton 2011: 270–8, with earlier discussions there cited. The proconsul P. Sempronius Tuditanus was despatched to Greece with 35 ships, 10,000 infantry, and 1,000 cavalry in spring, 205 (Livy 29.12.2).

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Hannibal was looming, would have been a dangerous division of their resources. The Peace of Phoenice was signed and ratified before the year was out.45 Despite the failure of his plan to reconquer all Illyria and invade Italy, and the ineffectiveness of his alliance with the Carthaginians, Philip emerged from the conflict relatively unscathed, and in a better position than before. He gained Atintania, former Roman amici, kept the parts of Illyria (including, perhaps, Lissus) he conquered in 213, and was confirmed in possession of the Dessaretian lands he seized from Scerdilaidas in 217.46 For the Romans, who, as the war with Hannibal showed, were culturally predisposed to accept nothing less than total victory, this was a disappointing result – and would require correction.

A War of Revenge? Within two years of the signing of the Peace of Phoenice, disturbing intelligence about Philip’s activities in the eastern Aegean began to make their way to Rome. In winter 203/2, Philip and the king of the Seleucid empire, Antiochus III, signed a secret pact to carve up the Ptolemaic empire, including Egypt itself, whose throne had recently been occupied by a 5-year-old boy, Ptolemy V Epiphanes.47 The pact was perhaps the worstkept secret in the Mediterranean world at that time, since most other states in the East soon knew about it, and were quick to inform the Romans of its existence.48 Soon Rome’s eastern friends began appearing before the senate to complain about Philip, who had been ravaging Asia Minor since 204. In 202, delegates from the Aetolian League arrived in Rome decrying the king’s attacks on Aetolian dependencies in Thrace and Asia Minor. The ambassadors were sternly rebuffed by the senate, still angry over the Aetolians’ separate peace with Philip.49 By late summer or autumn 201, ambassadors from Rome’s friends, the beleaguered states of Rhodes, Pergamum, Egypt, 45 46

47 48 49

Terms: Livy 29.12.13–14; cf. App. Mac. 3.2. See Walbank 1940:  103 (with earlier sources there cited); Badian 1958a:  61; Eckstein 2008:  113; Waterfield 2014: 56. On the pact, its scope, and effects, see now Eckstein 2008: 124–229; cf. Eckstein 2006: 271–5. Polyb. 14.1a.4 on the leaking of intelligence about the pact. App. Mac. 4.2; cf. Livy 31.29.4. Pace Badian 1958b: 208–11 (followed by Ferrary 1988: 51 and n. 26), this embassy appears to be authentic: Dahlheim 1968: 196 n. 45; Briscoe 1973: 130; Gruen 1984: 396– 7 n. 214 (the latter two citing older literature); cf. 79, 441; Twyman 1999: 1284 (dating the embassy to 201; cf. Briscoe 1973: 130 (with older literature there cited); Derow 1979: 7–8; Waterfield 2014: 62–3); Eckstein 2008: 211–17 (dating it to autumn 202, following Holleaux 1935: 293–7); Burton 2011: 270.

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and Athens, all came before the senate to complain of the pact and the violence of the kings.50 This Mediterranean “diplomatic revolution,” as Arthur Eckstein has rightly labeled it,51 made it harder for the Romans to ignore Philip’s activities in Asia Minor any longer. The consul P. Sulpicius Galba proposed to the citizen assembly a declaration of war on Philip, but the people, exhausted by their recent war with Carthage, flatly and unanimously rejected it at the instigation of a tribune, Q. Baebius. The latter was from a prominent consular family, which indicates that the senate, too, was divided over whether to support Rome’s friends against Macedon. Sulpicius then delivered a persuasive speech, warning the people not to wait for Philip to attack Italy, like another Pyrrhus or Hannibal, or to abandon their friends in their hour of need, lest it lead to another Saguntum, the ill-fated Spanish ally of Rome whose cries for help were ignored when the city was under siege by Hannibal in 219. The words of Sulpicius had their intended effect. The people voted in favor of the proposal, and envoys were dispatched to the East armed with a conditional declaration of war on Philip.52 One group of envoys soon appeared in Athens, currently under attack by Philip’s general Nicanor, demanding that Philip make war on no Greek state and submit his differences with Attalus of Pergamum to arbitration. Another embassy, headed by M. Aemilius Lepidus, met with the king himself while he was in the midst of besieging Abydus on the Hellespont. Aemilius demanded that Philip not wage war on any Greek state, nor interfere with Ptolemy’s possessions, and that he submit his differences with Rhodes and Attalus to arbitration. Philip, in turn, warned the Romans not to violate the Peace of Phoenice by siding with those who had already done so. The discussion was at an end, and a state of war came into being.53 50

51

52

53

Livy 31.1.9–2.2; Just. Epit. 30.3.5 (Athens, Pergamum, and Rhodes; cf. Paus. 1.36.5–6, 7.7.7–8; Flor. 1.23.4–5; Fest. 7.2 (Athens)); Just. Epit. 30.2.8 (Egypt); App. Mac. 4.2 (Rhodes and Athens). Egypt had been a Roman amicus since 273 (above, n. 6), and Athens since 209 or 208 (Burton 2013). Rhodes may also have been a Roman friend at this time since Polybius (30.5.6) records an amicitia dated to around 306, but some have regarded this as improbably early; discussion: Burton 2003: 356–7. Eckstein 2008: 181–270. It was revolutionary in the sense that the Hellenistic states behaved uncharacteristically by calling upon an outsider (i.e. Rome) to assist them, and witnessing traditional rivals, such as Rhodes and Pergamum, working together. The Roman decision to intervene was also revolutionary in that it contributed to a system in which great powers grew increasingly more powerful at the expense of second-tier powers, and the Polybian symplokē, the “intertwining” of eastern and western Mediterranean affairs, intensified. Livy 31.6.1–8.4; conditional declaration of war:  Polyb. 16.34.4, with Walbank 1967:  543–4; Rich 1976: 76–87; Eckstein 2008: 277. Polyb. 16.27.1–2, 34.1–4; Livy 31.18.1–5; Diod. Sic. 28.6 (Romans at Athens); Polyb. 16.34.1–7; Livy 31.18.1–4; cf. App. Mac. 4 (parley at Abydus). Philip’s reference to treaty-breakers is probably an allusion to the Athenians, whom Aemilius also mentions, and who had had two Acarnanians (allies of

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The impasse between Rome and Macedon marked the beginning of the war, but its causes had been bubbling under the surface for some time. The causes of the Second Macedonian War are a source of great scholarly controversy, bound up as they are with such insoluble problems as the nature of Roman imperialism and Roman ambitions in Greece in this period – to say nothing of the loss of most of Polybius’ account of the runup to the war.54 Roman greed was probably not a significant motivating factor: Sulpicius does not mention opportunities for plunder in his speech to the people, where one would expect to see an appeal to baser instincts. In fact, the consul builds his case on a moral argument:  one should, if possible, help and protect one’s friends, demonstrating fides, “good faith.”55 Sulpicius also plays on Roman fears and paranoia, beginning his speech by raising the specter of Philip becoming another Pyrrhus or Hannibal, attacking Italy by land and sea.56 Although he does not mention the revenge motive explicitly, his reference to Philip’s pact with Hannibal was surely designed to inspire such feelings in his audience. The revenge motive appears repeatedly in the sources, all of which ultimately descend from Polybius, and is bound up with the idea that the Second Macedonian War was a continuation of the First, a war that, for the Romans, was interrupted by a period of inconvenient but necessary peace.57 It was simply unacceptable that Philip’s predatory, opportunistic behavior during Rome’s darkest hour had resulted in net gains for the king.58 There can be little doubt that many Romans felt this way, although it is only natural that the bulk of the

54

55

56 57

58

Macedon) executed for violating the Eleusinian mysteries in mid-September, 201. See Burton 2013: 210–11. For Polybius’ famous division of causation into aitiai (“causes”), prophaseis (“pretexts”), and archai (“beginnings”), see his analysis of the outbreak of the Second Punic War at 3.6–30 (with Pearson 1952; Pédech 1964: 80–8; Walbank 1972: 157–60). Whether he subjected the outbreak of the Second Macedonian War to such formal analysis is difficult to know since no trace of it exists among the extant fragments or the post-Polybian historiographical tradition. See Bickermann 1945: 148; Pédech 1964: 118–19; Walbank 1963: 12; Derow 1979: 10–11. On fides in Sulpicius’ speech, see Burton 2011: 241 (ignored by Waterfield 2014: 68). On fides generally, see Burton 2011: 40–5 (in friendship between individuals) and 114–58 (in international friendships), with earlier scholarship there cited. Livy 31.8.4–10; cf. Zon. 9.15.2. Revenge: Livy 31.1.9, 11.9; 34.22.8; 45.22.7; Flor. 1.23.4. Contra Gruen 1984: 385, the fact that the specific grounds for revenge – that Philip provided financial and military assistance to Hannibal – are untrue does not mean that feelings of revenge for Philip kicking the Romans when they were down, and without provocation from Rome, did not exist. As Polybius says (3.32.7), “I regard [the war] with Philip … as resulting from that with Hannibal” (θεωροῦμεν … τὸν δὲ Φιλιππικὸν [πόλεμον τὰς ἀφορμὰς εἰληφότα] ἐκ τοῦ κατ᾿ Ἀννίβαν). The second war as a continuation of the first: Livy 31.1.8–10; App. Mac. 3.2; Just. Epit. 29.4.11; Zon. 9.15.1. This is why his Illyrian gains, recognized in the Peace of Phoenice, would be demanded back at the Nicaea conference in November 198 (Polyb. 18.1.14; Livy 32.33.3; below, p. 34).

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war-weary citizenry hesitated at undertaking a major war so soon after a particularly crippling and exhausting one had just ended. Rather than wait until the following summer, the senate dispatched the Roman fleet in September 200, under the command of the consul Sulpicius. Most of the fleet was docked at Corcyra for the winter,59 but a detachment of twenty ships under the command of C. Claudius Centho sailed around the Peloponnese, making for Athens.60 From his base in Demetrias, Philip heard that Claudius had also raided Chalcis, and so countered by marching against Athens. The Athenians, receiving advance intelligence about the king’s attack, barred the gates and firmed up their garrison. His plans upset, the king set about ravaging the Attic countryside and attacking Eleusis. Macedonian reinforcements soon arrived, but Philip’s plan to attack Athens was frustrated again when word reached him that the Roman ships had arrived in Piraeus.61 After a brief visit to the Achaean League, where he failed to secure any significant support,62 Philip returned to Attica and began ravaging the countryside again, sparing nothing, sacred or profane, from fire and sword.63 The king then returned to Macedonia to plan the following summer’s campaign. During this same winter, Sulpicius tried to bring the Aetolian League on side in time for his spring offensive.64 The consul’s strategy was to invade Macedonia from the west while the Dardanians and Illyrians did so from the northwest; the Aetolians were needed to invade from the south via Thessaly, while the Roman fleet would patrol the eastern coastline of Greece.65 The Aetolians, no doubt smarting from the senate’s rebuff of their pleas for help against Philip in 202, postponed a response until their next scheduled assembly meeting. Sulpicius proceeded with his plan anyway, entering Lyncestis in Macedonia in late spring. Here the first contact with Philip’s forces took place: a cavalry skirmish that ended in defeat for the Macedonians. Another skirmish, and another Macedonian defeat, soon followed.66 Sulpicius continued pushing east toward the Macedonian capital at Pella. He was met by Philip’s forces at Pluinna, in a narrow, rocky, and densely wooded pass (the modern Kirli-Derbend pass in northern 59 60 61

62 63 64 65 66

Livy 31.22.5. Livy 31.14.3, 22.5–8; Zon. 9.15.2–3. Livy 31.23; cf. Zon. 9.15.3 (Roman raid on Chalcis), Livy 31.24.1–25.2; cf. Diod. Sic. 28.7; Zon. 9.15.3 (Philip’s invasion of Attica). Livy 31.25.2–11. Livy 31.26.4–13. Livy 31.28.3, 29–32. Walbank 1940: 141. Livy 31.33.4–11; 36.7–37.12; cf. Dio fr. 58.1–3; Zon. 9.15.5–6; Plut. Flam. 3.1; Flor. 1.23.9; Ampel. 16.3.

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Greece). The king would have preferred to deploy his phalanx on level ground, but the consul, with his more agile legionary force, forced the issue. Perhaps not surprisingly, the Roman forces won the fight and took the pass. Sulpicius then turned south, where he was joined by an Aetolian contingent, and headed back toward Apollonia for the winter.67 Meanwhile, the Roman fleet took Oreus on the north coast of Euboea, denying Philip naval access to points south of Macedonia.68 Philip went on to achieve some successes against the Aetolians and Amynander and his Athamanians in Thessaly, while his general Athenagoras defeated the Dardanians on Macedonia’s northern tier.69 In early spring, 198, Philip decided to take the fight to the Romans, leaving Macedonia behind and entering the Aous River gorge in Epirus (Map 1), which he reckoned – correctly, as it turned out – the Romans would use to re-enter central Greece from the Illyrian coast.70 The Romans, under the command of one of the consuls of the previous year, P. Villius Tappulus, arrived in the Aous valley by early May, and set up camp opposite Philip. While Tappulus was debating whether to try to force his way through Philip’s defenses, his replacement, T. Quinctius Flamininus, consul of 198, arrived.71 Forty days of indecisive skirmishing followed before the neutral Epirotes (on whose land this skirmishing was taking place) convinced the leaders to sit down for talks.72 These quickly broke down after Flamininus demanded that Philip liberate Thessaly in addition to his other Greek possessions.73 The next day, the skirmishing continued, but the Romans soon gained the upper hand and forced the Macedonian phalanx to retreat via Thessaly. There Philip set about laying waste the towns and fields of his own subjects, probably in order to deprive the Romans of plunder and supplies.74 The Romans soon followed, but Philip stayed put in the Tempe pass north of Larissa in eastern Thessaly and refused to engage the enemy.75 Flamininus sacked and burned Phaloria, attacked some outposts of Aeginium, and laid siege to Atrax (Map 2). The latter, however, was 67 68 69 70 71

72 73 74 75

Livy 31.39.4–40.6; cf. Dio fr. 58; Zon. 9.15.5–6. Livy 31.46.6–16. Livy 31.40.7–43.7; cf. Diod. Sic. 28.2. Livy 32.5.8–13. Livy 32.6, 9.8; Plut. Flam. 3.3–4; cf. Zon. 9.16.1–2. Livy (32.6.5–8) implicitly rejects the story in one of his sources, Valerius Antias, that Villius defeated Philip and forced the pass before the arrival of Flamininus. Livy 32.10.1; Plut. Flam. 4–5 (a detailed account of the skirmishing). Livy 32.10.2–8; cf. App. Mac. 5; Diod. Sic. 28.11. Livy 32.10.9–13.9; Plut. Flam. 4–5.2; cf. App. Mac. 6; Zon. 9.16.1–2; Frontin. Str. 2.13.8; Flor. 1.23.10. Livy 32.15.9.

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stoutly defended by its Macedonian garrison, and the consul was forced to raise the siege before winter set in.76 Toward the end of the regular campaigning season, the consul scored a major diplomatic coup, convincing the Achaean League to abandon their Macedonian alliance and join Rome. He also took Elataea, as well as other places in Phocis. Both moves effectively deprived Philip of valuable footholds in central and southern Greece.77 While Flamininus was trying to force his way into Opus in eastern Locris (November 198), the king sought another parley. The two sides came to Nicaea on the Malian Gulf where Philip at first conducted talks from his ship, alleging that he feared for his life because of the presence of the Aetolians. The Romans demanded that the king evacuate Greece, return all the gains he had made in Illyria during the First Macedonian War, and return to Ptolemy all his Asia Minor possessions, which Philip had conquered between 204 and 200. Philip asked leave to send an embassy to Rome. Flamininus agreed to the delay, since he was still waiting to hear whether he would be reassigned the Macedonian command (and the glory of ending the war) for 197. With his agents skillfully working behind the scenes at Rome, Flamininus secured his reassignment, and when the time came for their senatorial audience, Philip’s ambassadors were surprised by the senate’s blunt question:  would Philip evacuate the “Three Fetters of Greece”  – the garrison points of Demetrias, Chalcis, and the citadel of Corinth? The envoys confessed they had no specific instructions on how to respond on this particular point, and so were dismissed.78 Over the course of the following winter, Philip levied troops throughout his exhausted and depopulated kingdom,79 while the Romans stripped him of all his remaining bases of potential support. The Spartan king Nabis, recently put in possession of Argos for the duration of the war as the price of an alliance with Philip, now blithely threw over his new ally and joined Rome.80

76 77

78

79

80

Livy 32.15, 17.4–18.3, 24; Plut. Flam. 5.3–4. Livy 32.19–23.3; Polyb. 18.13.8–10; App. Mac. 7; Plut. Flam. 5.3; Zon. 9.16.3; Paus. 7.8.2 (Achaean League sides with Rome); Livy 32.18.6–9, 24 (Phocis, Elataea). On the defection of the Achaean League, see Holleaux 1935: 230; Larsen 1968: 230, 392, 394; Errington 1969: 41, 43, 72, 87; Briscoe 1973: 200–12; Eckstein 1976: 138–4, 1987a: 278, 1987b, 1995: 200–2, and 2008: 281, 283–4; Gruen 1984: 442–7; Derow 2003: 60; Burton 2011: 102–5; Waterfield 2014: 86–7. Livy 32.32–7; Polyb. 18.1–12; Plut. Flam. 5.6, 7.1–2; App. Mac. 8; Zon. 9.16.4–5; Just. Epit. 30.3.8; Plut. Mor. 197A. Livy 33.3.1–5. By this point, he had been at war continuously since his accession twenty-four years earlier. Livy 32.38.2–40.4, 10–11 (cf. 34.31.5–32.19 (retrospective)); Zon. 9.16.5; cf. Polyb. 18.17; Just. Epit. 30.4.5. On Nabis, see now Burton 2015b.

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Thebes also joined the Roman cause.81 All Greece south of Thessaly was now solidly Roman. Philip realized that the only way he could maintain a hold on his remaining non-Macedonian possessions (and to keep the war away from his kingdom) was to march south and confront the Romans in Thessaly. Flamininus marched north along the east coast of Greece on the Thermopylae route. A minor cavalry skirmish broke out between the two armies around Pherae before Philip set off toward Scotussa to look for a suitable spot for a pitched battle where he could (finally) deploy the phalanx in its ideal setting. Both armies began to march west, separated only by the hills of Cynoscephalae (“Dog’s Heads”) (Map 2). Philip was forced by bad weather to make camp before he could reach the Roman camp, established at the Shrine of Thetis near the Pharsalus–Larissa road west of Cynoscephalae.82 The king then sent forward a detachment of men to seize the heights, but these were enveloped in a thick mist. Unable to see in the fog, Philip’s men blundered into a detachment of Roman troops on the ridge, which had been sent ahead by the proconsul to reconnoiter Philip’s position. The early skirmishing soon evolved into a battle, both commanders in the meantime drawing up their infantry ranks as best they could near level ground in front of Cynoscephalae. The Roman left soon drove Philip’s mercenaries on the right from the battlefield back toward the ridge, but the king had just arrived with half his phalanx. He arranged these in ranks sixteen men deep, with the remnants of his light-armed troops deployed to protect his right flank. Taking personal command at the front, the king charged down the hill and clashed with the Roman left, which soon broke under the weight of the Macedonian phalanx. Flamininus moved quickly to take charge of the right wing, and led it toward the ridge, where, thanks mostly to his elephants, he crushed the remainder of Philip’s forces. The coup de grâce came from an unnamed Roman military tribune on the right wing, who wheeled around from the pursuit of the Macedonian remnants and attacked the victorious Macedonian phalanx in the rear and left flank. Unable to cope with the hand-to-hand fighting, for which they were illequipped, and overburdened by their long pikes, the Macedonians began throwing down their shields and retreating, while Philip withdrew toward Tempe. The king now sued for peace.83 81 82 83

Livy 33.1–2; Plut. Flam. 6; Zon. 9.16.8. Here I follow the reconstruction of Hammond 1988: 437–40. Polyb. 18.18–27; Livy 33.3.11–10; Strab. 9.5.20; Plut. Flam. 7.2–8; Paus. 7.8.7; Dio fr. 60; Just. Epit. 30.4.5–16; [Euseb.] Chron. 243b; Oros. 4.20.5–9; Zon. 9.16.8–10.

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The terms laid down by the Roman commander were harsh, but not unduly so. The king was deprived of his fleet (which, in fact, was so insubstantial that it had not been a factor in the war at all), he was to set all his Greek possessions free, and was to pay an indemnity of a thousand talents.84 The implicit loss of Thessaly (through the declaration of Greek freedom) and Illyria (now firmly under the control of Rome’s friend Pleuratus III, son of Scerdilaidas) was a serious blow to the king, but his kingdom was left intact, and the indemnity was not large.85 The Aetolians accused Flamininus of accepting a bribe from Philip, so lenient did they consider the settlement.86 But he had good reason to go easy on the king at this time. Even before the war was over, the Seleucid king, Antiochus III, was trying to conquer Ptolemy V ’s possessions in Asia Minor, and had already attacked the territory of Rome’s amicus, Pergamum.87 If a showdown farther east against the formidable Antiochus was necessary (as it indeed turned out to be), there must be no risk of Philip rejoining his erstwhile ally. Humiliating him or angering him into thoughts of revenge would be highly imprudent at this moment.88 At the Isthmian Games in July 196, Flamininus declared “the Freedom of the Greeks.” All Greeks would be free, independent, and subject to their own laws henceforward. The Romans would leave no garrisons behind or demand any tribute.89 This did not mean that the Greek states would not be subject to Roman influence. As the guarantors of their freedom, and thus the superior partner in the relationship, the Romans naturally expected the Greeks to conform to Rome’s foreign policy agenda. Collective security, and especially Rome’s, was paramount. The Greeks surely understood this.90 They had been given their “freedom” in the same sense and for the same purposes as they had been granted it by Macedonian monarchs for well over a century before the Roman declaration.91 The difference was that Rome 84

85 86

87 88

89

90 91

The terms are contained in a later senatorial decree, which does not include all the details of the peace: Polyb. 18.44; Livy 33.30; App. Mac. 9.3; Plut. Flam. 10.1; Plut. Arat. 54.5; Paus. 7.8.7–8; Just. Epit. 30.4.17; Eutrop. 4.2.1; Zon. 9.16.10–11. Polyb. 18.47.7; Livy 33.34.7 (Thessaly); Polyb. 18.47.12; Livy 33.34.10–11 (Pleuratus). Polyb. 18.34.7–8; Plut. Flam. 9.4. On the Roman disputes with Aetolia during the negotiations, see now Burton 2011: 271–4. Livy 33.19.11 (Ptolemy); Livy 32.8.10, 37.1 (Pergamum). Flamininus apparently did not realize that alienating the Aetolians posed an even greater risk of bringing on a clash with Antiochus; as will be seen shortly, they invited him to Greece in 193, upsetting Roman arrangements there. Polybius identifies the anger of the Aetolians as the main cause of Rome’s war with Antiochus (Polyb. 3.3.3–4, 7.1); see below. Sources: Polyb. 18.46; Livy 33.32; Val. Max. 4.8.5; Plut. Flam. 10; Plut. Mor. 197B; App. Mac. 9.4; [Euseb.] Chron. 241c. Bibliography: Burton 2011: 224 n. 107. Burton 2011: 226. Gruen 1984: 132–57 gathers the evidence.

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would give the Greeks the genuine responsibility for safeguarding that freedom, while the Romans themselves would withdraw entirely across the Adriatic. To avoid any potential misunderstanding, Flamininus spelled out exactly what their freedom meant as he took his leave of the Greeks along with the last remaining Roman troops in 194: Use your freedom with moderation since it is a good thing when slightly restrained for individuals and states alike, but dangerous in excess. Let the leaders and the other social orders maintain harmony within their communities, and let all states take counsel together. Against men united by consensus no king or tyrant will be strong enough to do damage; but disharmony and sedition will furnish every opportunity for plotters, since a party that is worsted in domestic strife prefers to side with a foreigner than yield to his fellow-citizens. Defend and preserve in your care the freedom gained for you by force of foreign arms and returned to you by the good faith of an outsider; thus the Roman people will know that freedom was gained for men worthy of it, and their gift was well bestowed.92

By usurping the kingdom of Macedon’s traditional role as guarantor of Greek freedom, the Romans had significantly altered the de facto balance of power that had prevailed in Greece since the days of Philip II and Alexander the Great, and, along with that, the political calculus of every Greek statesman. Most seemed to understand this; others would need to be reminded.

The Syrian War Tension and unease marked Rome’s relationship with Antiochus III from the outset.93 Their first recorded diplomatic interaction, in 200, which likely resulted in the establishment of amicitia, was an attempt by Rome to reconcile Antiochus and Ptolemy, that is, to reverse the effects of Antiochus’ pact with Philip to destroy Ptolemy and carve up his kingdom and possessions.94 Roman embassies were sent east throughout the 190s to urge Antiochus to end his wars against Pergamum and Ptolemy, to relinquish cities belonging to Philip and Ptolemy, to respect the autonomy of the free Greek cities of Asia Minor, and to evacuate European Thrace. Despite occasional short-term conciliatory adjustments to his expansionary policies, Antiochus aggressively pursued what he regarded as his ancestral 92 93

94

Livy 34.49.8–11; cf. Diod. Sic. 28.13; Zon. 9.18.4. Grainger 2002 is the most comprehensive account in English, although one need not agree with his analysis, especially regarding Antiochus’ willingness to compromise in the run-up to the war. Burton 2011: 106; Polyb. 16.27.5.

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prerogatives in Asia and in European Thrace, and sought acknowledgment from Rome of his unfettered right to do as he pleased there by, for example, requesting a Roman treaty of alliance on equal terms.95 In Polybius’ judgment, none of these disputes has the explanatory force of the anger of the Aetolians in bringing about the Syrian War.96 Still smarting from what they regarded as the Romans’ failure to credit sufficiently the role they played in defeating Philip in the Second Macedonian War, and to reward them appropriately when the war was over,97 after the departure of the Romans from Greece in late 194, they saw an opportunity for revenge in the increasingly antagonistic Roman–Seleucid relationship. After several preliminary diplomatic overtures to Antiochus, in spring, 192, the Aetolians passed a decree declaring the king liberator of the Greeks and arbitrator of their differences with the Romans. The king crossed the Aegean and occupied Demetrias (earlier taken by the Aetolians) with 10,000 men in autumn, 192, and he was made League stratēgos for 192/191.98 What followed was a complete disaster for the Roman position in Greece: most of Thessaly, Boeotia, Euboean Chalcis, Elis, the major Acarnanian cities, and King Amynander of Athamania all went over to Antiochus.99 Around the same time, a detachment of Roman troops enjoying asylum at the shrine of Apollo at Delium near Tanagra in Boeotia was surprised and massacred by some of Antiochus’ men.100 The Roman declaration of war on the Aetolians and Antiochus soon followed; the official reasons cited by the Roman fetial priests were that the Aetolians had attacked Chalcis and Demetrias, an allied city, and invited the king to come to Europe for the purpose of making war on Rome.101 In mid-191, the consul M’. Acilius Glabrio crossed to Greece with his forces. In a coordinated campaign with M. Baebius Tamphilus the praetor and Rome’s new ally Philip V of Macedon, he recovered some of the cities in Thessaly. Acilius then moved toward Antiochus’ new position, which he had taken up in the pass at Thermopylae. The Romans dislodged the Aetolians guarding the flanking path west of Thermopylae that Xerxes had

95 96 97

98

99 100 101

On the diplomacy of the 190s, see now Eckstein 2008: 308–19; Burton 2011: 339–45. Polyb. 3.3.3–4, 7.1. On the escalating tensions between the Romans (and Flamininus personally) and the Aetolians, see now Burton 2011: 271–4. Livy 35.33.8 (decree); Livy 35.43; App. Syr. 12; Zon. 9.19.3 (crossing to Demetrias); Polyb. 20.1.1; Livy 34.45.9 (stratēgos). Gruen 1984: 476–8 (with sources); Eckstein 2008: 325–6. Livy 35.51.1–5. Livy 36.3.10–12. The war declaration was made before the Romans knew that Antiochus landed at Demetrias (Eckstein 2008: 327) or about the massacre at Delium.

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used to devastating effect against the Spartans in 480, and the legions soon broke through the phalanx guarding the pass. Antiochus and his small force were compelled to retreat to Asia.102 The new consul in charge of the war for 190, L. Cornelius Scipio (with his brother Africanus on staff as an advisor), decided on an amphibious assault on Antiochus’ Asia Minor possessions. Philip provided a military escort and supplies for the bulk of the Roman army, which marched overland through Macedonia and Thrace along newly purpose-built roads and bridges.103 Meanwhile, the combined Roman–Pergamene–Rhodian fleet confronted and defeated the formidable Seleucid navy (a portion of which was under the command of Hannibal of Carthage), in two battles at Side and Myonessus.104 With Roman supremacy at sea established, Lucius Scipio’s forces finally began crossing into Asia Minor in late summer. Antiochus attempted to negotiate a solution to the conflict, but the king’s offer to surrender a few places in Asia Minor and pay half the Romans’ war expenses was deemed most inadequate: the Romans stood firm that the king, as the one responsible for starting the war, must pay for it in full, and withdraw permanently from all lands subject to him west of the Taurus mountains.105 Negotiations failed and the war ground on. The final battle took place at Magnesia-ad-Sipylum in Lydia in December 190 or January 189. Antiochus at the head of the Persian cavalry managed to defeat the Roman left, but failed to wheel about to support his center and crumbling left, which Eumenes, in command of the cavalry massed on the Roman right, successfully turned, thus exposing the phalanx sufficiently for the legions to break it up. After suffering casualties numbering in the tens of thousands, Antiochus sued for peace.106 In the peace negotiations that followed, the Romans redrew the map of the Hellenistic East by senatus consultum, foedus, and senatorial commission. The Peace of Apamea, finalized in spring, 188, stipulated, among other things, that Antiochus must withdraw from all lands west of the Taurus Mountains and Halys River; pay 15,000 talents, 500 immediately, 2,500 102

103 104

105

106

Livy 36.13–14; App. Syr. 17; Zon. 9.19.5 (operations in Thessaly); Livy 36.17–19; Frontin. Str. 2.4.4; Plut. Cat. Mai. 13.1–14.2; App. Syr. 18–20; Oros. 4.20.20–1; Zon. 9.19.7–8 (Thermopylae). Livy 37.7.11–15; cf. App. Mac. 9.5. Livy 37.22–4; App. Syr. 22; Just. Epit. 31.6.9; Zon. 9.20.2 (Side); Livy 37.26–30; App. Syr. 27 (Myonessus). Polyb. 21.13–15; Diod. Sic. 29.7–8; Livy 37.34–6; App. Syr. 29–30; Dio fr. 62.2; Just. Epit. 31.7.4-9; Zon. 9.20.3. Livy 37.38–44.2; App. Syr. 30–7; Just. Epit. 31.8.5–8; Eutrop. 4.4.2; Zon. 9.20.4–7. The Aetolians, deprived of the support of their liberator, soon followed suit. They were eventually forced to sign a treaty pledging “to preserve the power and majesty of the Roman people without fraud” (Polyb. 21.32.2; Livy 38.11.2). Discussion and earlier scholarship: Burton 2011: 274–5.

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upon ratification of the peace, and 1,000 each year over twelve years; hand over Hannibal and other advisors, as well as twenty hostages; and give up all war-elephants, and retain no more than twelve war-ships. Antiochus’ former Asia Minor possessions were partitioned between Pergamum and Rhodes, with Rome acting as guarantor of the freedom of the remainder of the Greek cities of the region.107 *

*

*

At this stage, the Polybian symplokē, the “intertwining” of the events of the eastern and western Mediterranean, which, as was seen earlier, began with Philip of Macedon’s attention and ambitions being drawn westward in 217, while by no means complete, had at least passed the point of no return. Rome was now deeply enmeshed in the political life of not only Greece but also Asia Minor. Given the Romans’ positive response to the calls of their friends and allies when they were under pressure from the great Hellenistic kings in 201–200 and in the 190s, they could expect no end to the flow of embassies from the East whenever trouble arose in the coming decades. Indifference would not be an option. Rome’s major wars against the great Hellenistic powers over, at least for the moment, it was now time to manage the peace. Achieved with great violence and with enormous expenditure of blood and treasure, Rome’s unipolar hegemony had replaced the long-standing formal anarchy and never-ending interstate violence of the Hellenistic state system in fairly short order.108 Care and attention would be required for its maintenance over the long term. The remainder of this study is concerned with how the kingdom of Macedon adjusted, or rather failed to adjust, to this new reality.

107

108

Polyb. 21.24.6–8; Livy 37.55.5–6, 56.1–4 (senatus consultum); Polyb. 21.42; Livy 38.38–39.1; Diod. Sic. 29.11; App. Syr. 39; Zon. 9.20.8–9 (Peace of Apamea); Polyb. 21.45; Diod. Sic. 29.11; Livy 38.39.5–13 (senatorial commission). On unipolar hegemony and its effects, see now Eckstein 2006: 1–2, 306, 314, and 2008: 1, 25–7, 336–81.

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Philip Bounces Back As far as can be determined from his known actions, Philip V was a loyal Roman amicus for the remainder of his reign.1 He provided active logistical and material support to Rome during her wars against Nabis, tyrant of Sparta (195), and, as was seen at the end of the previous chapter, against Antiochus III and the Aetolian League.2 During the run-up to the latter war, the disgruntled Aetolians dispatched envoys to Philip to see if they could convince him to join them against Rome. They were met with complete indifference.3 Livy, probably reporting a fact that stood in Polybius’ original, now lost account, says that the Aetolian envoys to Antiochus told the king “a gratuitous lie” when they said that Philip was itching to get revenge for his defeat by Rome in the Second Macedonian War.4 Indeed, years later Philip recalled before Roman commissioners that Antiochus offered him 3,000 talents, forty ships, and the recovery of the Greek cities he had lost in 196 if he would side with the Seleucid king against Rome.5 The story may or may not be true, but that Philip could credibly retail it before Roman senatorial commissioners  – and make a considerable impression on them as a result – speaks volumes about the level of trust that had developed between Philip and the Romans. Indeed, as a reward for his loyal service, in 190 he was granted a remission of what remained 1

2

3 4 5

Gruen 1984: 399–402. As will be seen here and in the next two chapters, Polybius detected a pattern of hostility on Philip’s part – to the extent that he believed the king was secretly preparing for war against Rome since at least the 180s. War with Nabis: Livy 34.26.10; war with Antiochus III: Zon. 9.20; cf. Livy 36.8.6 (provision of intelligence); Livy 37.39.12 (provision of troops); Livy 37.7.11–15; cf. App. Mac. 9.5 (provision of escorts and supplies, building roads and bridges). Discussion: Burton 2011: 190–1. Philip also conducted joint operations with the Romans in Greece against the Aetolians: Livy 36.10.10–14, 13–14, 25; Plut. Flam. 15.3–4. Livy 35.12.1, 6, 10–14, 13.1. Livy 35.12.17; 36.7.12–13 (retrospective). Livy 39.28.6; App. Mac. 9.6.

39

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of his 1,000-talent indemnity (amounting to perhaps 250 talents), and the return of his younger son, Demetrius, who had been a hostage in Rome since 196.6 Over the fifteen years between the end of the Second Macedonian War and his death in 179, Philip restored his kingdom’s fortunes – and increased its subject territory. After the war with Antiochus was over, and in gratitude for his collaboration during that war, the Romans allowed Philip to keep some of his wartime conquests, including the important city of Demetrias, the entire Magnesian coastline of Thessaly, Athenaeum and Poetnetum in Athamania, portions of Dolopia and Perrhaebia, and several towns around the Malian Gulf, including Larisa Cremaste, Alope, Antron, and Pteleum (Map 2).7 Of course, he was denied the richer prizes of the strategically important Thessalian town of Lamia, as well as the Greek cities of Aenus and Maronea on the Thracian coast (Map 3).8 This was the natural consequence of having been a two-time aggressor against Rome and her allies, and of subsequently being the junior partner in an unequal friendship with Rome.9 He would not be allowed to harm Greek cities liberated at the Isthmia in 196, nor would the Romans allow him to interfere any longer in Greek affairs beyond his possessions in Thessaly. Cut off from expansion toward the east, west, and south by Roman power, Philip naturally turned to restoring his exhausted kingdom, replenishing his coffers by raising taxes on agriculture and port duties, and expanding silver mining. He also tried to rebuild the Macedonian population, devastated by more than a generation of constant warfare and his own recent losses against the Romans and their allies. He encouraged procreation among the native population and transferred entire communities from his Thracian possessions to Macedonia.10 To secure money and manpower, he also expanded eastward into Thrace,11 and tried, through skillful diplomacy with the Bastarnae, to neutralize the Dardanian threat to his kingdom’s northwestern frontier.12 Plutarch says that Philip stocked 6 7

8 9 10

11 12

Polyb. 21.3, 11.9; Livy 35.31.5; 36.35.13; 37.25.12; Diod. Sic. 28.15.1; App. Mac. 9.5. Livy 38.1.11, 2.2 (Athenaeum); 39.25.17 (Athenaeum and Poetnetum); 36.33.7 (Perrhaebia and Dolopia); 42.42.1, 56.7, 67.9–10 (Malian towns in Perseus’ hands during the next war with Rome). Livy 39.23.10–13 is a retrospective summary of Philip’s gains, some temporary, during the war against the Aetolians and Antiochus. Polyb. 20.11.3; Livy 36.25 (Lamia); Livy 39.33.4, 34; cf. Zon. 9.21. On unequal friendship, see now Burton 2011: 31, 63–75 and passim. Livy 39.24.1–4. On the depopulation of the Macedonian kingdom, see Livy 33.3.1–5 (and above, Chapter 2, p. 32 and n. 79). Polyb. 22.14.12; Livy 39.35.4 (184); cf. Plut. Aem. 8.4. Livy 40.57.4–9 (180); 41.23.12; 42.11.4 (retrospective). The plan involved encouraging the Bastarnae to migrate westward to the Dardanian lands and subdue its inhabitants. On Philip’s northern policy

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the cities and fortresses of the Macedonian interior with arms, money, and men, amassing eight million bushels of grain, enough arms to equip 30,000 men, and enough money to employ 10,000 mercenaries for ten years.13 The ever-pragmatic historian Polybius praises Philip for his vigor after 196 since the king “adapted himself to the reverses of fortune and faced the circumstances he found himself in with the greatest prudence.”14 Sheer pragmatism is not the whole story, however. In a later context, the historian further remarks on the king’s policy following his defeat in 196: When King Philip grew great and was powerful in Greece, he had the least regard of all men for good faith and law, but when the wind of good fortune changed, he was the most moderate of all men. For when he came entirely to grief in all his affairs, adapting himself to all contingencies, he attempted by every means to restore his kingdom to health.15

Philip’s behavior, in other words, was both morally and pragmatically commendable:  vigorous, adaptable, and above all, moderate. He also maintained, as far as he could, given the circumstances, his independence. Far from being a Roman lackey, Philip rebuilt the power of the Macedonian kingdom after his defeat, attempting to balance the Republic’s increasing power in the region, regardless of what the Romans’ strategic preferences might have been.

The Seeds of Future Conflict Independent behavior, however, can often be misconstrued as disloyalty, if not downright enmity. Like all nominally sovereign powers which are, in reality, locked in a hierarchical relationship imposed on them, Philip tested the boundaries of his freedom of action, kicking against the limitations established by Rome. This, of course, prompted the Macedonian kingdom’s natural enemies – its subjects and rivals (king Eumenes II of

13

14

15

generally (including the foundation of the city of Perseis, and the marriage of his eldest son to a Bastarnian princess), see Meloni 1953: 34–41; Walbank 1940: 237–8, 246. Plut. Aem. 8.4–5. Plutarch, following Polybius, attributes this activity to Philip’s alleged plan for a war against Rome; see below, Chapter 5, pp. 91–6. τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον χρὴ καὶ τὴν μετάνοιαν αὐτοῦ δηλῶσαι καὶ τὴν εὐστοχίαν, καθ᾽ ἣν μεταθέμενος τοῖς ἐκ τῆς τύχης ἐλαττώμασιν εὐλογιστότατα δοκεῖ κεχρῆσθαι τοῖς καθ᾽ αὑτὸν καιροῖς (Polyb. 18.33.7). ὅτι Φίλιππος ὁ βασιλεύς, ὅτε μὲν ηὐξήθη καὶ τὴν κατὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐξουσίαν ἔλαβε, πάντων ἦν ἀπιστότατος καὶ παρανομώτατος, ὅτε δὲ πάλιν τὰ τῆς τύχης ἀντέπνευσε, πάντων μετριώτατος. ἐπεὶ δὲ τοῖς ὅλοις πράγμασιν ἔπταισε, πρὸς πᾶν τὸ μέλλον ἁρμοζόμενος ἐπειρᾶτο κατὰ πάντα τρόπον σωματοποιεῖν τὴν αὑτοῦ βασιλείαν (Polyb. 25.3.9–10).

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Pergamum, in particular) – to flood the senate with complaints about the Macedonian king. The Romans, for their part, responded according to circumstances, and to their own diplomatic and strategic priorities of the moment, sometimes insulting and humiliating Philip, but at others turning a blind eye to his activities. Some tension in the relationship is detectable as early as mid-191, when Philip was collaborating with Rome in the war against the Aetolian League and Antiochus III. The Macedonian king and the Roman consul, M’. Acilius Glabrio, were undertaking joint operations around the Malian Gulf, Philip besieging Lamia and Acilius, Heraclea (Map 2). After Heraclea fell to the consul, he instructed the king to break off his siege of Lamia. According to Livy, Acilius wanted the glory of receiving the now inevitable capitulation of Lamia, informing Philip that “it was fairer that Roman soldiers, who had fought with the Aetolians in battle, should have the spoils of victory.”16 The gratuitously insulting reference to Philip’s absence (due to illness) from the crucial Roman victory over the joint Aetolian–Seleucid forces at Thermopylae in 191 must have rankled, but the king complied with the consul’s command and kept quiet for the moment. Roman wariness about Philip was reinforced shortly afterward, when Flamininus, Philip’s vanquisher at Cynoscephalae six years before, advised Acilius to stop wasting his time besieging cities while Philip was running amok, conquering entire nations and peoples. Displaying his usual acuity and flair for Realpolitik, Flamininus declared that “it is not so much in our interest to diminish the power and strength of the Aetolians as to ensure that Philip’s does not grow beyond measure.”17 Mistrust of Philip by the Roman high command is seen again in a strange anecdote from the following year. In 190, Philip was given the delicate task of providing for the Roman legions a secure marching route through Macedonia and Thrace toward the Hellespont for their final showdown with Antiochus III in Asia Minor. Scipio Africanus, accompanying his brother and consul for 190, Lucius Scipio, advised him to test Philip’s loyalty before entrusting the security of the Roman army to the king. Africanus’ friend Ti. Sempronius Gracchus was dispatched to Pella at lightning speed to surprise Philip and see whether he was planning some 16

17

Livy 36.25.5–8, with the quotation at §7 (aequius esse Romanos milites, qui acie dimicassent cum Aetolis, praemia uictoriae habere); 39.23.8–24.1 (where Livy, following Polybius, explicitly cites the incident as a cause of Philip’s anger, and thus, his preparations for war with Rome; see below, Chapter 5, p. 94); cf. Plut. Flam. 15.4. Atqui non tantum interest nostra Aetolorum opes ac uires minui, quantum non supra modum Philippum crescere (Livy 36.34.10). On Flamininus’ Realpolitik, see Badian 1970.

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treachery. In the event, all was well: Gracchus found the king quite relaxed (drunk, in fact), radiating nothing but goodwill toward the Romans. The next morning, Philip detailed to Gracchus everything he was preparing for the Romans’ journey. In the end, the king did all he promised – and then some: the legions marched through Macedonia and Thrace in safety and, thanks to Philip’s logistical arrangements, on smooth roads, over newly built bridges, and on full stomachs. Africanus soon rendezvous-ed with his brother across the Hellespont, clearly impressed by the king’s capability and natural charm.18 Despite Philip’s solicitude on this occasion, once the Romans’ focus turned to fighting Antiochus in Asia, they failed to provide him any support in mainland Greece. When the Aetolians and their allies, the Athamanians, began their spring offensive in 190, the remaining Roman troops in the area stayed put in their garrisons, leaving Philip to face his enemies alone. The Athamanians, tiring of Philip’s harsh rule, rose up against their Macedonian garrisons and drove them from the country. The combined forces of the Aetolians and Athamanians then defeated Philip and a Macedonian infantry force of 6,000 men, driving them back to Macedonia. Philip was then systematically stripped of all his acquisitions of the year before, as the Aetolians and Athamanians took control of Aperantia, Amphilochia, and Dolopia.19 Meanwhile, Amynander of Athamania began laying accusations against Philip before the Scipios in Asia.20 The Roman settlement with Aetolia in the following year was deeply disappointing to Philip. The king sent letters to the leading men in Rome, complaining that the Aetolians had unjustly taken Athamania and Dolopia from him, and asking them to speak against the Aetolian peace proposals in the senate.21 Evidently the patres were less circumspect about the king’s loyalty than the commanders in the field: Philip’s letters succeeded in hardening their hearts and minds against the Aetolians. Their resolve was temporary, however, and peace was soon struck.22 After the war with Antiochus was over, the booty-laden Roman army was marching back from Asia Minor through Thrace when it was suddenly ambushed. According to Livy, “it was thought that this was done 18 19 20 21

22

Livy 37.7.8–16. Polyb. 21.25.3–7; Livy 38.1.1–3.6. Polyb. 21.25.2; cf. Livy 38.3.2. Polyb. 21.31.3–4; cf. Livy 38.10.3 (who, however, embellishes Polybius by adding a Macedonian embassy to the senate, and Aetolian Amphilochia to Philip’s list of lands stolen from him). Polyb. 21.32; cf. Livy 38.11.

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not without the treachery of Philip.” Livy’s distancing of himself from the allegation (through the use of an impersonal construction) may reflect his – or perhaps his source’s – reluctance to vouch for the story.23 But the opinio probably resonated with those who were prepared to believe the worst of Philip. One of these was Eumenes of Pergamum. The Pergamene king benefitted handsomely from Rome’s victory over Antiochus, having been given sovereignty over the lion’s share of the Seleucid king’s former Asia Minor possessions, as well as control of the Thracian Chersonese, thus providing him with a toe-hold in Europe. This only exacerbated the longstanding Pergamene–Macedonian rivalry. Two bones of contention in particular – the Greek cities of Aenus and Maronea on the Thracian coastline – would prove to be one of the driving factors behind Philip’s growing resentment toward Rome. In their arrangements following the war with Antiochus, the Romans expelled the Seleucid garrisons from these cities, declared them free, and established as the frontier of Philip’s kingdom an inland road that ran through southern Thrace just behind Aenus and Maronea.24 Philip, however, clearly thought the cities belonged to him; his ambassadors would later allege that Acilius Glabrio handed them over to him when he was busy besieging Aetolian cities.25 Shortly after the inland road had been established as the southern boundary of his kingdom, Philip simply rerouted the road further south to the coastline in order to stake his claim to Aenus and Maronea and their fertile territories.26 This roused the ire of Eumenes, who thought that if anyone should possess these places, it was he. After all, he had been the main victim of the aggressions of Antiochus, and was rewarded by Rome with suzerainty over former Seleucid possessions in the Thracian Chersonese.27 To make matters worse, the populations of both cities were split between pro-Pergamene and proMacedonian factions, the latter perhaps encouraged by Philip.28 23

24 25

26 27

28

Opinio erat non sine Philippi Macedonum regis fraude id factum (Livy 38.40.8). By contrast, Appian (Mac. 9.5) says that the ambush demonstrated how great a service Philip had provided the Romans when they marched toward the Hellespont. Errington 1971: 196, 197 argues that Philip believed the incident demonstrated how precarious the safety of the coastal cities, particularly Aenus and Maronea, would be if they were set free. Livy 37.60.7 (liberation of Aenus and Maronea), 39.27.10 (establishment of frontier). Livy 39.24.12 (eas ciuitates here probably refers to all the places mentioned, including Aenus and Maronea, in §§7–11); cf. Polyb. 22.6.1–3. Livy 39.27.10. Polyb. 21.48.9; Livy 38.39.14 (the assignment of Antiochus’ former Thracian possessions to Eumenes); Polyb. 22.6.1–3; Livy 39.24.6 (envoys of Eumenes before the senate); Livy 39.27.2–6 (Eumenes’ claims). Polyb. 22.6.2, 6–7; Livy 39.24.8–9; cf. Plut. Aem. 8.4 (who speaks of Philip weakening the coastal cities, which may be an allusion to stasis between pro-Pergamene and pro-Macedonian factions there).

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Such were the complaints of ambassadors from Pergamum and Maronea, who arrived before the senate in winter 186/5, along with some Athamanian, Thessalian, and Perrhaebian envoys, who wanted to recover cities taken from them by Philip during the recent war with Antiochus. Envoys from Philip also appeared to defend the king against the Pergamene accusations. The senate empowered a commission of three to visit Macedon, to provide safe-conduct to those accusing Philip of wrongdoing, and to adjudicate the disputes.29 Arriving at Tempe by early spring, the three commissioners (Q. Caecilius Metellus, M. Baebius Tamphilus, and Ti. Sempronius Gracchus)30 set up shop to hear the accusations against Philip. Thessalian and Perrhaebian envoys complained that Philip’s acquisitions in their lands rested on illegitimate foundations since the king’s agreement with the Roman commanders during the Aetolian War, that he was to keep any Aetolian conquests he made, covered only those towns that were originally Aetolian, not Thessalian towns lately conquered by them.31 Philip responded to these obviously trivial and sophistic allegations in kind, but also uttered an ominous-sounding phrase (quoting Theocritus): “the sun of all my days has not yet set.”32 The commissioners decreed that Philip was to withdraw his garrisons from the Thessalian towns mentioned by the envoys (Philippopolis (Gomphi), Tricca, Phaloria, Eurymenae, and the cities nearby that had been conquered by the Aetolians), and to restrict his kingdom to its ancient boundaries.33 This was, at best, a paradoxical ruling: the first clause evidently left Philip in charge of Thessalian Demetrias, 29

30

31

32 33

Polyb. 22.6.1–6; Zon. 9.21.5; Livy 39.24.5–14. Livy’s account suffers from some embellishment; thus he has the Athamanian envoys complain that their entire kingdom has been taken over by Philip, but unless we posit a second Macedonian reconquest after 189, this conflicts with the fact that Philip lost most of his Athamanian gains of 191 in 189 (Livy 38.1 with above, p. 43). In contrast, Polybius’ Athamanians merely complain that they should get back the towns taken by Philip. This is surely a reference to Athenaeum and Poetnetum, still held by Philip after 189 (above, p. 40 and n. 7). Polybius’ account is to be preferred, especially since Livy (following Polybius) has the Athamanians refer only to Athenaeum and Poetnetum before the commissioners at Tempe later on (Livy 39.25.17). Mistakenly identified as “Tiberius Claudius” by Polybius’ epitomator (22.6.6); Livy 39.24.13 has the correct name, which must have stood in the Polybian original. Livy 39.23.10 (the agreement); Livy 39.25.4–5 (the Thessalian and Perrhaebian complaint). This bit of sophistry is strikingly reminiscent of Flamininus’ deliberate fudging of the terms of Rome’s 211 treaty with the Aetolian League. The treaty stated that the Aetolians could keep any towns captured from Philip, but Flamininus later alleged that it stated that the Aetolians could keep only those towns taken by force, and not those that surrendered to the Romans voluntarily. Inscriptional evidence proves that Flamininus was lying (sources and discussion: Burton 2011: 91 n. 38, 269–70). Could the Thessalian envoys’ position at Tempe in 185 be a stalking horse for the Romans’ own? Nondum omnium dierum solem occidisse (Livy 39.26.9). Livy 39.25–6; cf. Diod. Sic. 29.16.

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Magnesia, and Dolopia, in addition to his other gains around the Malian Gulf (Larisa Cremaste, Alope, Antron, and Pteleum), while the second seemed to imply that he should vacate all these as well. The decree’s opacity was probably deliberate – a stop-gap solution to an escalating, and increasingly delicate diplomatic situation. It was designed to appease Eumenes and the Thessalians by giving the impression of hostility to Philip without actually depriving him of anything of great significance.34 The commission, with Philip in tow, moved on to Thessalonica to hear complaints related to Philip’s activities in Thrace, particularly around Aenus and Maronea. The Pergamene envoys spoke first, saying that the Romans should ensure that these cities were truly rather than nominally free, or if that was not possible, to grant the cities to Eumenes, who was more deserving of them. The Maronean exiles then spoke, alleging that Philip had diverted the east–west Thracian inland road south to the coast, and that their city was now full of Macedonians and Philip’s lackeys, who controlled access to political office. Rather than defending himself on the specific charges, as he had done at Tempe, Philip now turned to a list of his grievances with the Romans. He lamented the Romans’ unfairness to himself, citing their protection of Macedonian cities that had defected from his rule during the Second Macedonian War, the interrupted siege of Lamia. during the war with Aetolia and Antiochus, and their questioning of his loyalty. It was at this point that Philip told the story of Antiochus’ failed bid to get him to side with him in his war with Rome. “If you insist on persecuting me as a personal enemy and a threat to your state,” the king concluded, “continue to act as you have done. But if some respect is owed me as an allied and friendly king, I beg you not to judge me worthy of such an injury.”35 Livy says that Philip’s words made a considerable impression on the commissioners, who once again took the soft, diplomatic option: the status of Aenus and Maronea would have to await a senatorial decision, but in the meantime, Philip must vacate those places.36 The following year, once again prompted by embassies sent to Rome by Eumenes and the Thracian exiles, the senate decreed that Philip was to vacate Aenus and Maronea, and 34 35

36

Errington 1971: 198. Livy 39.27–8, with the quotation at 28.12–13 (si tamquam inimicum et hostem insectari propositum est, pergite ut coepistis facere: sin aliquis respectus est mei ut socii atque amici regis, deprecor, ne me tanta iniuria dignum iudicetis). The stricture against punishing disloyal Macedonian cities, alleged by Philip at 39.28.2–3, is otherwise unreported in the extant texts. Philip’s resentment over being ordered to withdraw from the siege of Lamia is first reported here. Livy 39.29.1–2.

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that the entire Thracian coastline was to be set free.37 Philip then prompted the massacre of the partisans of Eumenes in Maronea, but disclaimed any responsibility for it before the newly arrived Roman commissioners in Greece. The latter flatly rejected the king’s claims, and demanded that he send the perpetrators to Rome to answer for their crimes.38 “And so Philip was therefore eager to resist and attack [the Romans] in every possible way,” Polybius concludes, “but because he lacked the forces to carry out some of the things he had in mind, he considered how he might engineer some delay and take time for his preparations for war.” The king decided to play his diplomatic trump card, dispatching his younger son Demetrius to Rome to clear him of the charges laid against him, and to placate the anger of the senate.39

A Domestic Tragedy Polybian scholar Frank W. Walbank famously described as “tragic” the surviving accounts, all of them derived ultimately from Polybius, of the last years of Philip V.40 Despite Polybius’ aversion to “tragic” history in his fellow historians, his own account of the end of Philip’s reign is suffused with “tragic paraphernalia,” as Walbank describes it: the gods, the furies, all-seeing Justice, and avenging Fortune (Tychē).41 For Polybius, all of these conspired to avenge the atrocities of the king’s early years by provoking him in his later years into irrational decision-making, including a secret plan to make war on Rome, and the murder of his younger

37 38

39

40

41

Livy 39.33.1–5. In the event, Philip successfully sought a reprieve for the architect of the massacre, his Thracian governor Onomastus, while the man responsible for implementing it, a certain Cassander, was conveniently done away with before he could reach Rome (Polyb. 22.14.5; cf. Livy 39.34.9–10). Polyb. 22.13–14, with the quotation at 14.8 (καθόλου μὲν οὖν πρόθυμος ἦν εἰς τὸ κατὰ πάντα τρόπον ἀμύνασθαι καὶ μετελθεῖν αὐτούς· πρὸς ἔνια δὲ τῶν ἐπινοουμένων ἀπόχειρος ὢν ἐπεβάλετο πῶς ἂν ἔτι γένοιτό τις ἀναστροφὴ καὶ λάβοι χρόνον πρὸς τὰς εἰς τὸν πόλεμον παρασκευάς); Livy 39.34.1–35.3. Cf. Walbank 1938: 66, who, however, tries to play down the clear implication of the passage that Philip was simultaneously aggressive and defensive vis-à-vis Rome (recognized by Gruen 1974: 232 n. 36). Walbank 1938. He did not mean that Polybius’ largely lost account (and the surviving Livian account, which demonstrably depends on it) is tragic in the formal sense, or based on tragic or novelistic accounts of Philip’s last years, but that he adopted the rhetoric and supernatural machinery of tragedy in order to make a moral point about Philip’s character and behavior. Walbank 1938: 64 (based on Polyb. 23.10). Walbank argues that Polybius’s account is not “tragic” in the sense for which he condemns others (see previous n.), since he avoids the chief vices of tragic history-writers  – inaccuracy, excessive sensationalizing, and melodrama. Polybius’ account, however, does share another significant flaw of “tragic” historians: excessive reliance on the divine to account for the causes of events.

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son Demetrius at the behest of the elder, Perseus, which ultimately doomed the Macedonian kingdom in the next generation.42 In so constructing his account, Polybius demonstrated a considerable (but rare) lapse in historical judgment, according to Walbank: “Polybius’ account of [the] last years of Philip [is] one of the least satisfying in his whole work.”43 Whether Walbank was justified in this view will be discussed in Chapter 5; for the moment, a presentation of the facts is necessary. Unfortunately, we have no idea how the rift between Philip’s sons, Demetrius and Perseus, began or developed. Perseus first appears on the historical stage during the Second Macedonian War: at 12 or 13 years of age, he was sent by his father, accompanied by various high-level Friends of the king, to occupy the passes of Pelagonia.44 He also saw action in his late teens in the war against the Aetolian League and Antiochus.45 Perseus’ younger brother Demetrius was handed over at 10 years of age as a hostage to the Romans following the Second Macedonian War.46 It was as a hostage, so Polybius asserts, that Demetrius became influential with the senate,47 which is why his father sent him to Rome in 184 to respond to complaints against him by Eumenes, various Thessalian cities, the Perrhaebians, Athamanians, Epirotes, and Illyrians. The young prince was given ample time to respond to the barrage of complaints, but was clearly out of his depth, and so the senators allowed him to consult his notes. Demetrius produced “a little notebook” (τι βυβλίδιον οὐ μέγα, a small scroll), but rather than having him read it, the senators asked him to summarize its contents. Demetrius reported Philip’s responses to each of the charges laid by the others and reiterated the king’s complaint about his treatment by the Romans. The senate responded, once again, diplomatically: they accepted Philip’s word, as reported by Demetrius, that the king had acted or would act justly, but would also send yet another commission to check on his compliance with their wishes. The latter was a sop to Eumenes, who was no doubt frustrated by the senate’s generous treatment of Demetrius and, by extension, his father. To 42 43

44 45 46 47

Polyb. 23.10. Walbank 1938: 67 and 1979: 205–9; cf. Meloni 1953: 70–2; Errington 1971: 207–8, 288–9 n. 30, 1990: 210; Harris 1979: 227; Gruen 1984: 402, 408; Hammond 1988: 490; Green 1990: 426; Rosenstein 2012: 216; Briscoe 2012: 13, 15. The origin of the allegation of Philip’s secret war-plans is the speech of Callicrates of Leontium in 175/4; see below, Chapter 5, pp. 91–6. Livy 31.28.5, 34.6; discussion: Meloni 1953: 16–23. Livy 38.5.10, 7.1, 10.3; discussion: Meloni 1953: 23–9. Polyb. 18.39.5; Livy 34.52.9, 35.31.5, 36.35.13. Polyb. 22.14.10.

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placate the Pergamene king further, the senate spelled out the reasons for its decision: it was because of their regard for Demetrius that they had done him the favor of trusting Philip – and not, by implication, because they trusted Philip himself.48 The consequences of the conspicuous favoritism shown by the senate towards Demetrius were no doubt devastating to his relationship with his brother,49 who perhaps may have already been troubled by his father conferring such an important diplomatic assignment on his younger sibling. Scholars have argued that this was precisely the senate’s intention; it was all part of their divide and rule policy in the East, applied to ruling families as well as states.50 As Gruen has observed, however, this is to confuse results with intentions, and besides, Philip got exactly what he wanted from his son’s mission – a favorable response.51 Note, too, that it was not the senate’s idea to send Demetrius on this mission. The senators’ expressions of favor for Demetrius contain no reference (implicit or overt) to Perseus, and their back-handed disparagement of Philip was designed to appease Eumenes, not to undermine the ruling house of Macedon. But what of another incident reported by Polybius, that Flamininus took Demetrius aside while he was in Rome and secretly intimated to him that the Macedonian throne was his for the taking? Flamininus also sent a letter to Philip, asking him to send Demetrius back to Rome with as many of his most useful Friends as possible. The letter, Polybius says, became the ground upon which Perseus convinced his father to have Demetrius executed later on.52 Unfortunately, Polybius’ account of the final tragedy of the house of Philip is no longer extant, but Livy, most likely following Polybius, reveals that another letter from Flamininus was procured by Philip’s Friends Philocles and Apelles in 181. It requested that the king forgive Demetrius for discussing with himself his desire for the Macedonian throne, and that Flamininus would never have advised the young man to do anything against his own family. This letter, if authentic (which Livy denies), is significant for what it does not say. It does not warn Philip to watch his back because his younger son is plotting a coup; it does not advise the king to replace Perseus with his younger brother in his succession plan. In fact, the letter was designed, 48 49 50

51 52

Polyb. 23.1–2; cf. Livy 39.46–7; App. Mac. 9.6; Just. Epit. 32.2.3; discussion: Meloni 1953: 30–1. As Polyb. 23.3.4–9; cf. Livy 39.48.1. E.g. Edson 1935: 193; Walbank 1940: 239, 241; Errington 1971: 199; Waterfield 2014: 162 (“Demetrius would be the Macedonian equivalent of Callicrates in Achaea”); contra Gruen 1984: 402. Gruen 1974: 234; cf. Green 1990: 425–6. Polyb. 23.3.7–9; discussion: Meloni 1953: 32–3.

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precisely, to allay such rumors, which had probably been making the rounds for years by then.53 This is to anticipate, however. When Demetrius returned from Rome early in 182, having had his head turned by the Romans’ solicitude and attention, his popularity among ordinary Macedonians increased significantly since he had successfully deflected Roman suspicions of Philip’s intentions, and thus ensured that peace with Rome would continue. Some also began talking about Demetrius as a possible heir to Philip since this would be a choice that would meet with Roman approval. Despite being younger than Perseus, it was said, Demetrius was at least a legitimate son of Philip, born of a legal wife, while Perseus was the bastard son of a concubine. Such talk made Perseus fear for his position as successor; indeed, Philip was heard to say that Demetrius was now a burden to him since his popularity with the Romans would leave him little choice but to make him his heir.54 Perseus began to play on his father’s suspicion of his younger son, his popularity, and his good relations with the Romans. By branding Demetrius a Roman stooge, Perseus stoked his father’s anger and resentment. Court politics then took their inevitable course: the king’s Friends, sensing the way the wind was blowing (and looking toward their own future security), began abandoning the (perceived) pro-Roman Demetrius in droves. They stoked the king’s anger and urged him to war with Rome, meanwhile engaging Demetrius in conversation about the Romans, hoping to catch him out in some treasonous statement. They attacked Roman customs, institutions, leadership, and even the appearance of the city, luring Demetrius into a defense of these. Soon he was shut out of his father’s counsels altogether, which gave Perseus exclusive access to Philip, with whom he discussed his Roman war-plans day and night, all the while filling the sick and enfeebled king’s paranoid mind with allegations that Demetrius was a Roman spy.55 53

54

55

Gruen 1974: 244. For a defence of the letter’s authenticity, perhaps in attenuated form, see Walbank 1940: 251 (followed by Meloni 1953: 51–2); cf. Heiland 1913: 12. Edson 1935: 200 does not think the letter is out of place in the context of Roman–Macedonian relations in the late 180s. Errington 1971:  200, 288 n.  28 reserves judgment. Pareti 1952:  742; Green 1990:  426; Waterfield 2014:  164 believe it is a forgery. Pareti also doubts (along with Benecke 1930: 252) that Flamininus had a secret conversation with Demetrius in Rome. Adams 1982: 243 n. 44 rightly points out that, regardless of Flamininus’ intentions, the effect on Demetrius’ paranoid brother and father was probably as Livy says it was. Livy 39.53.2–6. Perseus is variously said to have been born of a courtesan, an Argive seamstress called Gnathaenion, and Polycratea, daughter of Aratus of Sicyon. Sources and discussion: Heiland 1913: 9; Meloni 1953: 10–15; Ogden 2010: 234–5, 242 nn. 96–7; Waterfield 2014: 163. Livy 40.5.2–14; cf. Zon. 9.22.1; discussion: Meloni 1953: 32–3.

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Soon, the antipathy between the two brothers was manifested publicly, and violently, during the ceremonial purification of the Macedonian army in 182. The festivities traditionally culminated in a mock battle between contingents of the Macedonian army armed with wooden stakes. On this occasion, Perseus and Demetrius commanded the rival contingents. Soon the mock battle turned deadly serious, says Livy, as though the prize of the victory was the Macedonian throne itself. Demetrius had the best of it, but the king’s Friends reassured the aggrieved Perseus that this result could only help Perseus’ cause.56 Later that day, the princes each hosted rival banquets for their contingents since Perseus refused to dine with his brother. Heavy drinking soon led the men to recount their exploits of earlier in the day, in addition to some light-hearted mockery of their adversaries and their leaders. Perseus dispatched a spy to listen in on the conversation at Demetrius’ banquet. The spy was caught, however, and roughed up by some of Demetrius’ men. Demetrius apparently knew nothing of this, for he later suggested to his men that they should all head over to Perseus’ place to bury the hatchet. The men set off, those who had beaten up Perseus’ spy, fearing retaliation, carrying concealed swords. An informant told Perseus that the men were on their way, some of them with arms. Although the informant told Perseus the reason the men were carrying weapons, the prince decided to manufacture a scandal out of it anyway, ostentatiously locking his front door, barricading himself in an upper story of his house, and refusing entry to his brother’s men, claiming that they had been sent to kill him. Demetrius, in a drunken stupor, complained about being shut out, and returned to his own party, completely unaware that he had been tricked, or indeed that some of his retinue carried arms.57 The next day, Perseus told his father of the alleged assassination attempt. Livy’s account of what follows (probably based on Polybius’ original, now lost, version) resembles nothing so much as the middle act of a Greek tragedy. Philip summoned Demetrius to respond to the charges, and while he was waiting, with Perseus standing at a distance (downstage, as it were), the old king paced up and down in deep, brooding contemplation. When Demetrius arrived, Philip began his lament in tragic fashion: how miserable for him, in the autumn of his years, to have to adjudicate between his sons, one charging fratricide, the other accused of it. By the time he 56 57

Livy 40.6. Livy 40.7.

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finished speaking, all present were in tears.58 Perseus then delivered his indictment, carefully prefacing it with the (vaguely Oedipal) claim that despite his total and unconditional love for his father, his father felt no affection for him as a son. In addition to citing the previous day’s activities, Perseus based his claims against Demetrius on the letter of Flamininus to Philip: the Roman had summoned Demetrius to Rome to further corrupt him, and asked him to bring leading Macedonians along so the prince would have more supporters in his plot to dethrone Philip.59 When Perseus finished speaking, all looked toward Demetrius, but he could barely speak, his voice choked with tearful sobs. Ordered to speak, he protested his innocence, insisting that he was isolated and alone; he was the underdog and victim here, not Perseus. He lamented that the support of the Romans was more bane than boon, placing him under a dark cloud of suspicion. But if treason lurked behind his dealings with Flamininus, Demetrius continued, why did Perseus wait until the night before to create an elaborate farce to bring him down? And why should he be reproached with his friendship with the Romans? Did he ask to be sent as hostage, and later, ambassador to Rome? His relationship with Rome may not have done him credit, but it should not have been held against him. If it came to all-out war, he would be Rome’s deadliest enemy.60 Demetrius finished his speech, overcome by tears and loss of voice and breath. Philip deferred a decision for the moment, pledging to investigate the lifestyle and character of his sons.61 Following up on his vow to investigate matters further, Philip dispatched Philocles and Apelles to Rome, where they were to sound out any information they could on Demetrius’ conversations with the Romans, and especially whether Flamininus had discussed with him his ambitions for the Macedonian throne.62 Meanwhile, Demetrius lived in fear of Perseus’ machinations, and so watched carefully what he said and did. He did not 58

59 60 61

62

Livy 40.8. A fragment of Philip’s speech survives from Polybius’ account (23.11); its close resemblance to the analogous passage in Livy makes the Polybian derivation of Livy 40.8.1–16.3 a virtual certainty. Livy 40.9–11. Livy 40.12–15. Livy 40.16.1–3. Whether this confrontation took place is, of course, impossible to verify. Polybius’ informants may have been the Macedonian courtiers who were exiled to Italy, along with Polybius himself, in 168–167 (on these, see below, Chapter 5, pp. 81, 93). The speeches are almost certainly inauthentic. See Edson 1935: 196; Meloni 1953: 45; Gruen 1974: 240–1; Hammond 1988: 471–2 and 1989: 361–2; Hatzopoulos 1996: 311. Livy 40.20.3–4. Walbank 1940:  247 n.  4 (followed by Meloni 1953:  46–7; Adams 1982:  244 n. 52) rightly rejects Livy’s assertion (40.20.4) that Philocles and Apelles were Perseus’ agents in the plan to bring down Demetrius.

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dare mention or consort with the Romans, even refusing to accept correspondence from them, so as not to stoke his father’s anger further.63 Demetrius then accompanied Philip and Perseus on a family expedition to Mt. Haemus in Thrace. This project apparently had its origins in Philip’s restless energy for conquest – in Livy’s Latin version, his cupido. In Polybius’ original Greek version, the adjective used was likely pothos – that quality of yearning, of longing for something out of reach, which the ancients associated with Alexander the Great, from whom Philip believed himself descended.64 But Livy (no doubt following Polybius) once again puts the worst possible construction on the king’s actions: Philip wanted to keep his troops in good shape (for the coming war against Rome, it is implied), but also thought the expedition would allay any suspicion that he was preparing for war with Rome.65 He also believed, incorrectly, that from the peak of Mt. Haemus, one could see both the Adriatic and Black Seas, the Hister River, and the Alps; this would prove useful for plotting his invasion route to Italy.66 Before Philip began his ascent, however, he sent Demetrius home, ostensibly so that, if the expedition came to grief, the entire royal family would not be wiped out at a stroke, but in reality, says Livy, in order to exclude him from the king’s discussions of the invasion route to Italy and strategy for the war.67 Demetrius knew why he was being sent back, but could not object without further stoking his father’s suspicions. He was accompanied by Didas, one of Philip’s generals, and a fellow-conspirator with Perseus against Demetrius’ life. Perseus had instructed Didas to insinuate himself into his brother’s confidences so as to obtain more incriminating information.68 The plan worked. Didas flattered Demetrius, expressed sympathy for his plight, and offered to help him in any way he could. Demetrius revealed that he was planning to flee to Rome, and that his route would be through Paeonia, whose governor Didas happened to be. Didas reported back to 63 64

65

66 67 68

Livy 40.20.5–6. Livy 40.21–2; cf. Polyb. 24.4 (Mt. Haemus expedition; discussion: Heiland 1913: 24–7); Arr. Anab. 1.3.5, etc. (Alexander’s pothos); Dreyer 2013: 206 (Philip’s pothos); Walbank 1993, and above, Chapter 2, n. 16 (Philip’s beliefs about his origins). Skepticism about this motive: Meloni 1953: 47. Meloni also believes that this expedition was of a piece with Philip’s northern policy of recent years, to reduce the tribes on his northernmost frontier to obedience. He also suggests that the king was simply curious to see whether the rumors about what could be seen from the peak of Mt. Haemus were true. Livy 40.21.2, 7. Livy 40.21.5–9. Livy 40.21.9–11.

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Perseus, who then informed Philip. Demetrius’ friend Herodorus was arrested while Demetrius himself was placed under heavy surveillance. Philip awaited the return of Philocles and Apelles from Rome before taking any action, however. Upon their return, they produced the letter from Flamininus to Philip mentioned earlier – a forgery, according to Livy – urging him to free Demetrius from suspicion.69 In the end, the intent of the letter yielded the opposite result: the king was now even more suspicious of his younger son. Perseus then revealed his brother’s plot to escape to Rome through Paeonia, and the fact that he had bribed some of his associates to accompany him. Philip sent Demetrius in Didas’ company to Astraeum in Paeonia, ordering his general to kill his son during the trip. The hapless young man was poisoned by Didas, and then finished off by a certain Thyrsis of Stuberra and a Beroean called Alexander, who smothered Demetrius in his coverlets.70 The denouement to this domestic tragedy came a short time later. Antigonus, son of Antigonus Doson’s brother Echecrates (and Philip’s second cousin, once removed), revealed (or alleged) that Philocles and Apelles had forged the letter that Perseus had used to convince his father to condemn Demetrius to death. A certain Xychus, who knew the truth about Perseus’ plot, was arrested by Antigonus and brought before Philip. Threatened with torture, Xychus revealed his own role in the plot to bring down Demetrius. Apelles, getting wind of Xychus’ revelations, fled to Italy; Philocles’ fate is unknown.71 Perseus, his crimes fully revealed, exiled himself from Macedon. Philip did not live long enough, however, to secure the throne for his newly chosen successor, the informer Antigonus. The king died a broken-hearted, anxiety-ridden insomniac, his sick mind haunted by the ghost of Demetrius and racked with guilt over his lifetime of cruelty. Perseus, summoned by Philip’s doctor before the king breathed his last, surprised everyone by arriving in Macedon from Thrace so soon after his death. The throne was his by August or September 179. Livy concludes, laconically, “Perseus seized the kingdom, secured for him by a crime.”72 69 70 71 72

Livy 40.23.1–8. Livy 40.23.9-24; cf. Zon. 9.22.1. Diod. Sic. 29.25 claims that Philip had both men put to death. Livy 40.54–57.1; cf. Polyb. 23.10.13; Plut. Aem. 8.6; Arat. 54.3; Diod. Sic. 29.25; Zon. 9.22.1. The date: Meloni 1953: 460–1. The denouement is largely fictional, based on rumor and gossip: Heiland 1913: 12–13; Edson 1935: 199–200; Walbank 1940: 253; Meloni 1953: 55–9; Derow 1989: 295 n. 12 (against e.g. Benecke 1930: 254–5); Hatzopoulos 1996: 310–12. Meloni (57) has the best, albeit speculative, argument against authenticity: why would Philip, who had carefully nurtured his kingdom’s resources since 196, perhaps with a view to further foreign conquests, have left behind a situation that virtually guaranteed those same resources would all be squandered in civil war between two rival contenders for the throne? This does not necessarily invalidate the episode’s depiction of the

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Conclusion The decade and a half separating Philip’s second war with Rome from his death was marked by a transformation in Roman foreign policy, largely as a result of their success against Philip and his erstwhile ally Antiochus III. Rome’s intrusion into the Hellenistic world and the affairs of the Greeks was, by 180, irreversible. Philip accommodated himself to these drastically changed circumstances by pressing his independence of action as far as it could go without provoking Roman military reprisals. During Rome’s wars with Nabis, and with Antiochus III and the Aetolian League, he was a valuable collaborator and was duly rewarded with modest gains. But he was also frustrated by the limitations imposed on his freedom of action by Roman commanders, and by Roman arrangements in the East. His hands were also increasingly tied by a plethora of Roman allies who needed little prompting to complain to the senate of the king’s activities. When a senatorial commission invited complaints against Philip by all and sundry in the mid-180s, his reaction is as would be expected of a proud and vigorous self-proclaimed descendant of Philip II, Alexander the Great, and Antigonus the One-Eyed: proclaiming “the sun of all my days has not yet set,” he delayed the ordered surrender of Aenus and Maronea for two years, and when he could do so no longer without inviting reprisals, instituted a massacre on a portion of the population of Maronea as he withdrew, before dispatching a placatory embassy to Rome led by his son Demetrius. Philip, in other words, in the post-Cynoscephalae era tried to walk a fine line between independence and appeasement, defiance and deference, coolness and collaboration. It was the only option available to a proud, independent-minded Hellenistic monarch caught in an unequal friendship with a victorious former enemy. Philip’s son and successor would attempt to do the same, but with very different results.

operation of court politics, especially as regards how Apelles’ exile from Philip’s presence and downfall play out (Ma 2011: 522–3).

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4

The Reign of Perseus

Introduction This chapter and the next are primarily concerned with Macedonian affairs before the outbreak of the Third Macedonian War and are, therefore, focused on the activities of Macedon’s new king Perseus throughout most of the 170s. A great deal of what he achieved in this period, one way or another, and largely retrospectively, found their way into the Roman justification for the declaration of war on the king in 171. The main purpose of these two chapters (and the key concern of this study) is to establish the most important likely causes of the Third Macedonian War in order to clarify the nature and evolution of Roman imperialism during the middle republican period. Our view of the Romans as imperialists will differ significantly if, for example, they eagerly and aggressively pursued the war option against Perseus as soon as suitable pretexts presented themselves or if, on the contrary, they ignored Perseus’ activities and all such pretexts until other factors forced them to act at the last minute. The evidence must be handled carefully and critically, and the analysis of possible causes carried out reasonably free of interpretative bias. I have, therefore, decided to step into the same river twice. This chapter is meant to be a simple recapitulation of the chronology and the relevant facts, insofar as they can be known, from the beginning of Perseus’ reign in late 179 to the Roman declaration of war on him shortly after the beginning of consular 171. Chapter  5 then shows how this same material has been used by historians, both ancient and modern, to build their theories about the causes of the Third Macedonian War. These theories will be subject to analysis in terms of modern theories of imperialism. I will then tentatively offer my own explanation for why the war broke out when it did, and the implications of this for the nature of Roman foreign policy and imperialism in the middle Republic. Casual readers, those who have already made their minds up about the nature of Roman imperialism, and 56

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those uninterested in such matters can safely skip the next chapter without losing the thread of the story.

Perseus Rex Among Perseus’ first acts as ruler was to renew his father’s friendship, amicitia, with the Romans, and to request that the senate formally recognize him as king of Macedon.1 He also, apparently, had Philip’s alleged last-minute successor and replacement for himself, Antigonus, son of Echecrates, executed.2 Polybius claims that Perseus immediately began courting popularity in Greece, recalling fugitive Macedonian debtors and exiles, and promising them safety and the restoration of their property. These decrees were backed up by propaganda and publicity: lists of those repatriated were erected at Delos, Delphi, and one of the sanctuaries of Itonian Athena, probably the one at Coronea in Boeotia. Within the Macedonian kingdom itself, Perseus declared an amnesty for those in debt to the crown.3 Philip’s death could not have come at a worse time for his scheme to transfer the Bastarnae away from their homeland north of the Danube near the western shore of the Black Sea to the lands of Macedon’s perennial enemies, the Dardani. Philip had apparently not provided supplies for the massive numbers of Bastarnae now crossing the Danube, nor had he prepared the ground diplomatically with the Thracians, through whose lands the Bastarnae were bound to travel. Livy says that the Macedonian general 1

2

3

Polyb. 25.3.1; RDGE 40 l. 15; Livy 40.58.9; 41.19.6; 42.25.4, 10, 40.4, 41.9–11, 46.3; 44.16.5; 45.9.3; App. Mac. 11.5–6; Zon. 9.22.2; Diod. Sic. 29.30 (implying that the senators renewed the amicitia knowing full well that Perseus, like his father, was planning a war against Rome; Meloni 1953: 70–2, against e.g. Pais 1926: 555; Pareti 1952: 753–4 and 1953: 38 thinks this implausible). Contra Hammond 1988: 492–3, 601–10 (cf. Meloni 1953: 69 and n. 3; Hammond 1989: 363), the amicitia being renewed (actually, confirmed) was an informal relationship, there being no such thing as a formal “treaty of friendship” as such. The “treaty” referred to by Appian, if not a complete distortion, probably refers to the treaty of peace struck with Philip that ended the Second Macedonian War (Gruen 1973; Walbank 1979: 275; Dmitriev 2011: 188–9; Goukowsky 2011: 139 n. 78, 146 and n. 119, 197 n. 121). As has now been shown (Burton 2011: 79–84), the efficacy of the long-term relationship, amicitia, was dependent on the ongoing observance of a peace treaty’s terms by both parties. In formal terms, therefore, Perseus was bound only by the terms of the peace imposed on Philip in 196, but, pace Briscoe 2012: 235, the treaty itself was not renewed at the start of Perseus’ reign. Hammond 1988: 491 suggests that Antigonus was tried for treason and executed by the Macedonian army assembly (in Hammond 1989: 363 he is executed for treason or incompetence). Polyb. 25.3.1–3; discussion:  Mendels 1978:  55–9. Which sanctuary of Itonian Athena is meant is unknown: Giovannini 1969: 855; Walbank 1979: 276 nominate the one near Halus in Thessaly, but given Perseus’ later interest in extending his influence in Boeotia, culminating in a Macedonian treaty with the Boeotian League, and the fact that Coronea would be the last of the pro-Macedonian Boeotian cities to capitulate to Rome, Hammond 1988: 493 is probably right to argue for the one at Coronea in Boeotia.

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Antigonus (not the executed son of Echecrates) and Cotto, a Bastarnian leader, had got as far as Amphipolis, on their way to oversee the Danube crossing, when word of Philip’s death reached them. They returned to Macedonia, taking their army with them. Perseus himself quit Thrace at the same time, taking his troops with him.4 Clashes broke out between the hungry, leaderless Bastarnae and the Thracians, which soon escalated into all-out war. The Thracians abandoned their homes and made for Mt. Donuca, with the Bastarnae in hot pursuit. Then a fierce rainstorm broke out, striking terror into the Bastarnae, and in the confusion that followed, the Thracians attacked. The Bastarnae fled back to their camp to regroup, after which a contingent of 30,000 under the leadership of Clondicus pressed on toward the Dardanian lands, while the remainder returned home.5 Meanwhile, before Perseus’ renewal of amicitia with Rome had been formalized,6 the king of the Thracian Sapaei, Abrupolis, broke into Macedonia, making his way as far south as Amphipolis. After plundering the countryside and the mines of Pangaeum, he returned to his kingdom with an abundance of slaves and cattle. Perseus soon counterattacked, defeated Abrupolis, and drove him out of his kingdom.7 Perseus’ amicitia with Rome was probably formalized before spring, 178, and the senate officially recognized him as king of Macedon.8 Soon after this, he married Laodice, the daughter of Seleucus IV,9 his Bastarnian wife having recently died.10 Probably around this same time, Perseus betrothed his sister Apame to Prusias II of Bithynia.11 Meanwhile, his “charm 4 5 6

7

8 9 10

11

Livy 40.57.2–4. Livy 40.58. App. Mac. 11.6 establishes the correct order of events (τὸ μὲν δὴ περὶ Ἀβρούπολιν καὶ πρεσβύτερόν ἐστι τῶν συνθηκῶν); cf. Polyb. 22.18.2 (μετὰ τὸν τοῦ Φιλίππου θάνατον … with Meloni 1953: 68 n.  1). Meloni 1953:  460, with 61–7, dates the Abrupolis affair to August or September 179, i.e. around the time Perseus became king. Polyb. 22.18.2–3 (prospective); RDGE 40 ll. 15–17; Livy 42.13.5, 40.5, 41.11; cf. Diod. Sic. 29.33; App. Mac. 11.2, 6 (retrospective). Pausanias (7.10.6–7) is the only remaining source that reports the event in “real time,” but he fails to note that Abrupolis invaded Macedonia before Perseus attacked him (hence Pausanias’ extraordinary claim that the Romans declared war on Perseus specifically to avenge the Sapaei). SEG 31.614 mentions Perseus’ campaigns in Thrace; this may refer to the expulsion of Abrupolis: Koukouli-Chrysanthaki 1981: 233. Livy 40.58.8, 45.9.3. The date: Meloni 1953: 461, with 68–73. Polyb. 25.4.8; cf. Livy 42.12.3. The date: Meloni 1953: 461, with 119–20. For his marriage to the Bastarnian princess, see Livy 40.5.10 and above, Chapter 3, n. 12. For her death, see Livy 42.5.4, but we need not believe the rumor reported there that Perseus killed her (cf. Meloni 1953: 79 n. 2). Livy 42.12.3, 29.3; App. Mac. 11.2 (cf. Mithr. 2); the date: Meloni 1953: 461, with 120. The literary sources do not record the name of Perseus’ sister, but an inscription from the Athenian Piraeus (IG II2 3172 = I.Apameia und Pylai 89 T12) does: Meloni 1953: 121 n. 1 (with earlier literature there cited).

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offensive” toward the Greeks continued apace.12 Polybius describes the king at the outset of his reign as capable, physically fit, serious, composed, and of modest appetites, particularly as regards his father’s favorite vices, drink and women. As a result, many Greeks had high hopes for his kingship.13 Perseus established good relations with the island republic of Rhodes early in his reign; Rhodian sailors had escorted the Seleucid princess Laodice to Macedonia since the Seleucid navy was forbidden, by the terms of the Peace of Apamea (188), to sail beyond Cape Sarpedon or to march through Asia Minor. In reward for their service, Perseus gave a golden tiara to each sailor who served in the princess’s naval escort. Even before this, Perseus had given the Rhodians a significant amount of Macedonian ship timber, with which they had refitted their fleet in magnificent style.14 The Amphictyones of Delphi also embraced the new king, for in 178, Macedon is one of the twelve states on the Amphictyonic Council with two officials (hieromnemones) in attendance – a significant shift from the organization’s earlier antiMacedonian stance.15 Behind this move, significantly, lay the Aetolians.16 Around this time, and for unknown reasons, the Aetolian League was in the grip of a major debt crisis.17 According to a passage in Diodorus Siculus, perhaps derived from Polybius, by late 177, debts were cancelled not only in Aetolia, but also in Thessaly and Perrhaebia. Diodorus, perhaps preserving some information from Polybius’ lost account, states that the senate suspected that Perseus was behind this move.18 Confirmation of this

12

13 14

15

16 17

18

The word Polybius uses (25.3.1) is ἑλληνοκοπεῖν “to court the favour of the Greeks” (cf. App. Mac. 11.4, 7: φιλέλλην). It is used in a different, pejorative sense at Polyb. 20.10.7, where M’. Acilius Glabrio mocks the Aetolian Phaeneas for “playing the Greek” (Walbank 1979: 81, 275; cf. LSJ s.u.). Derow 1989: 301 argues that ἑλληνοκοπεῖν contains “something of both” definitions. Given the prevailing pro-Perseus tone of this passage, I disagree with Goukowsky 2011: 159–60 and n. 185 that the word is used pejoratively here. Polyb. 25.3.4–8. Polyb. 25.4.7–10; cf. App. Mac. 11.2; Livy 42.12.3 (retrospective). Giovannini 1969: 855 believes that there was no Rhodian–Macedonian rapprochement since this was a purely commercial transaction, born of necessity. While it is true that the Rhodians were the logical (if only) choice to perform the task (Macedon lacking a navy, and the Seleucids forbidden to sail beyond Cape Sarpedon), and the Macedonian refitting of the Rhodian fleet could be seen as compensation for their help, Giovannini’s argument cannot explain the gift of golden crowns to each Rhodian crew member. SIG 636 ll. 5–6 with Meloni 1953: 94–104; Walbank 1977: 89–90 (vs. Giovannini 1970, who believes Macedon retained influence on the council throughout); Hammond 1988: 493–4. Hammond 1988: 494 n. 1. Livy 41.25.1–7; 42.4.5, 5.7, 10–12. The causes may have been the punishing indemnity exacted after the Roman–Aetolian War in 189, or a long period of peace in the Greek East, which deprived the Aetolians of their traditional sources of income – booty and employment as mercenaries. See De Sanctis 1923: 263–4; Meloni 1953: 105; Gruen 1976: 35. ἡ σύγκλητος ὑπέλαβεν ἐκ τοῦ Περσέως γεγονέναι τὴν σύγχυσιν (Diod. Sic. 29.33; Polybian derivation: Meloni 1953: 149 n. 2; Hammond 1988: 494).

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is lacking, however. Perseus later admitted only to installing a garrison in Aetolia, perhaps at the League’s request.19 This, rather than a Macedonianbrokered cancellation of Aetolian debts, may have been the quid pro quo for Aetolian support for Macedonian representation on the Amphictyonic Council. Perseus’ connection to the abolition of debts in Thessaly and Perrhaebia can only be confirmed by a passage in Livy, where it is embedded in Eumenes’ list of accusations against his Macedonian rival.20 To this same period may be assigned the alliance between Perseus and Cotys, chieftain of the Thracian Odrysians.21 The precise extent of Perseus’ influence in Thrace is unknown, but Appian implies it was substantial.22 At the time of his defeat at Pydna, the king was apparently in charge of Cypsela, less than fifteen miles inland from the north Aegean coast close to the river Hebrus.23 He also held villages, towns, and forts east of the river Nessus behind Abdera, Aenus, and Maronea on the coast.24 That is, along with his connection to Byzantium (see below) and Cotys, Perseus may fairly be said to have brought large parts of eastern Thrace, particularly in the sensitive and strategically valuable Hellespontine and Bosphoran regions, under his sway. A few years later, in autumn 175, Perseus marched with his army to Delphi, spending three days there before returning to Macedonia through Phthiotic Achaea and Thessaly, taking care not to do any damage to Greek property en route. He sent letters and ambassadors to all the peoples along his marching route, asking them to forget about their differences with his father, and pledging to initiate friendly relations with them.25 One state he courted particularly diligently was the Achaean League. Late in 198, after switching alliances from Macedon to Rome, the League had imposed a blanket ban on Macedonians from entering its territory, the effect of which was to prevent any Achaeans from entering Macedonia as well.26 As a result, 19

20

21 22

23 24 25 26

Livy 42.42.4. The fact that the Aetolian debt crisis still existed in 173 (cf. Livy 42.5.7: ingentem uim aeris alieni) suggests that Perseus did not cancel Aetolian debts in 177, and may vitiate the reliability of Diod. Sic. 29.33 altogether. Briscoe 2012: 168 attempts to reconcile the evidence by arguing that a blanket cancellation of all debts may not have taken place in 177. Livy 42.5.8–10 (Thessalian and Perrhaebian crisis); Livy 42.13.8–9 (Perseus’ abolition of Thessalian and Perrhaebian debts); the date: Meloni 1953: 461, with 104–9. Livy 42.29.12 (retrospective); the date: Meloni 1953: 461, with 90. App. Mac. 11.1 (“in possessing Thrace, he held a great stronghold,” Θρᾴκην κατακτῷτο, μέγα ὁρμητήριον), perhaps an exaggeration (as Hammond 1988: 497). Discussion: Bickermann 1953: 493 (with references); Meloni 1953: 62; Hammond 1988: 496–7. Livy 45.29.6; Diod. Sic. 31.8.8 (retrospective), with Hammond 1988: 497 and 611–12. Livy 41.22.4–8, with Meloni 1953: 131–5. Livy 41.23.1–3; cf. 42.6.2, where the ban is called uetus decretum. For the literature on and discussion of this question, see now Briscoe 2012: 119.

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says Livy, whenever slaves fled their Achaean masters, they made straight for Macedonia. Perseus rounded up a group of these fugitives and wrote to the Achaeans, promising to restore them, and asking them to take care that such escapes did not happen in future. Early in his magistracy, Xenarchus, the pro-Macedonian stratēgos of the League for 175/4, read out Perseus’ letter, but the pro-Roman Callicrates rose to deliver a speech advising against a rapprochement with Macedon, alleging that Perseus was preparing for war with Rome. Archon, brother of Xenarchus, spoke against Callicrates, reminding his audience that Perseus was an amicus of the Roman people, and urging them not to allow vague rumors and speculation about Perseus’ intentions to obscure what was in full view – that the king was committed to peace. The matter was deferred, but it was ultimately decided not to receive Perseus’ ambassadors when they approached Achaea late in 174.27 Although the chronology is obscure, due largely to the fragmentary state of Livy’s ninth pentad, it was probably also in 174 that Perseus directed his attentions to Boeotia and Byzantium. It is only in retrospective passages condemnatory of the king’s actions that we hear about these events. Boeotia had been struggling with debt and economic hardship (as well as demographic decline and lawlessness) since at least the late 190s.28 The region was indeed riven by faction. A democratic, slightly anti-Roman bloc of “federalists,” who wanted to strengthen the Boeotian confederacy, were locked in a struggle with the pro-Roman oligarchic separatists, who wished to abolish it. Perseus intervened on the side of the democratic federalists, and struck a treaty with the members of the confederacy. The new relationship was loudly publicized: copies of the treaty were set up at Delphi, Thebes, and perhaps Delos.29 At some point in 174, Perseus also sent military assistance to Byzantium.30 27

28

29

30

Livy 41.22.8–24.20. The debate belongs earlier than late 174, where Livy sites it, for it takes place during Xenarchus’ strategia (175/4):  Livy 41.23.4. Meloni failed to notice this, which vitiates his chronology of this and surrounding events (1953: 461–2, with 110–11, 136–41, and below, nn. 29–30). Hammond 1988: 494, with Polyb. 20.6.1–6. Polybius’ parti pris account of the decline and decadence of Boeotia (20.4–7) may be exaggerated, but is not altogether false (as Walbank 1979: 66). Livy 42.12.5–6 (Madvig emends the uncertain text to read Delium (in Boeotia), but given Perseus’ habit of publicizing his philanthropy at international shrines (cf. Polyb. 25.3.2, with above, p. 57 and n. 3), Delos works equally well, perhaps better); cf. Livy 42.38.5, 40.6, 43.5–6 (retrospective). Fragments of the treaty have recently been discovered at Dium: Hatzopoulos 1998: 1194–5. Discussion: Meloni 1953: 145–8, although I disagree with his preferred date of 173 (462, with 146 n. 1), since it is based on the absence of any mention of Perseus’ involvement in Boeotia in the Achaean League debate, which he places, incorrectly, in late 174 (above, n. 27). Livy 42.13.8, 40.6, 42.4; App. Mac. 11.1 (retrospective). Discussion: Meloni 1953: 148–9, although, once again, I disagree with his preferred date of 173 (462, with 148; cf. Heiland 1913: 27–9 (late 173);

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While all of this diplomatic activity was going on, Perseus undertook several military projects designed to please his Macedonian constituents, as well as the Greeks. After the Bastarnian resettlement scheme fell apart in the chaos following the death of Philip V, Perseus may have assisted those 30,000 Bastarnae, led by Clondicus, who had chosen to continue to march against the Dardanian lands after the rest of the Bastarnae returned home in 179/8, for Polybius reports a Dardanian embassy to Rome to complain about the attacks of Perseus and the Bastarnians in 177. An embassy from Thessaly supported the Dardanian complaints, and a senatorial embassy was dispatched to look into the matter.31 The envoys returned to Rome in 175, and confirmed that indeed there was a war in progress in Dardania; the omission of any mention of Perseus’ involvement was perhaps a tacit acknowledgment that they could find no evidence of it.32 They reported that they had visited the Bastarnae, presumably to ask them to make peace with the Dardani, as well as Macedonia, where they witnessed Perseus’ war preparations. The king was fortifying the country, they alleged, laying in large stores of weapons, and drilling his troops.33 Around the same time envoys arrived from Perseus, protesting that the king was in no way involved in the war. “The senate,” says Livy, “neither absolved the king from blame nor pressed it upon him; they only ordered him to consider himself warned to take care again and again that he appear to hold sacred the treaty he had with the Romans.”34 Meanwhile, the Bastarnae blithely ignored the Roman request for peace. Clondicus’ men, now reinforced by their Scordiscian and Thracian allies, were pressing more heavily against the Dardani. In late 176,35 the Dardani mustered at a town about twelve miles from the main Bastarnian camp, believing that the Scordisci and Thracians would probably return home for the winter. This they did, and the Dardani launched a two-pronged

31

32 33

34

35

Koukouli-Chrysanthaki 234 n. 17 (between 174 and 172)), since it depends on his incorrect dating of the Achaean League debate (above, n. 27). It should be noted that it is only at Livy 42.42.4, in Perseus’ speech in defence of his conduct, that military assistance to Aetolia and Byzantium is specified:  Aetolis et Byzantiis praesidia misimus. None of the king’s accusers explicitly charge him with this. Polyb. 25.6.2–6. The campaign against the Dardani and Thracians must have occurred in spring and/or summer, 178: Meloni 1953: 461. Meloni 1953: 82–3; Errington 1971: 204; cf. Goukowsky 2011: 144. Livy 41.19.4 (ambassadors’ report); App. Mac. 11.1 (visit to Bastarnae); App. Mac. 11.1; cf. Livy 41.19.4 (visit to Macedonia). It is uncertain whether the same Roman embassy visited both Macedonia and the Bastarnae: Meloni 1953: 85; Walbank 1979: 282 (with previous scholarship there cited); Briscoe 2012: 16. Senatus nec liberauit eius culpae regem neque arguit; moneri eum tantum modo iussit, ut etiam atque etiam curaret ut sanctum habere foedus quod ei cum Romanis esset, uideri posset (Livy 41.19.6). Here I follow the dating of Meloni 1953: 461, with 82–3 (against Hammond 1988: 496 (175/4)).

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assault on the Bastarnian camp; one contingent was to attack it directly, while the other was to approach it from the rear via a remote pass. The plan ultimately succeeded, but probably not as the Dardani intended. Their frontal assault on the camp failed, and the Bastarnae pursued them back to their town and surrounded them there. Meanwhile, the Dardanian encircling contingent seized the enemy camp, and probably took the Bastarnian women and children hostage. Unfortunately, a large lacuna follows in Livy’s account, but a later passage reveals that the Dardani were ultimately victorious, for the Bastarnae, probably in exchange for the members of their families, returned home.36 In late winter 175, the Bastarnae launched another attack against the Dardani, allegedly with Perseus’ help, but the Danubian ice collapsed under the weight of their massive forces, and most of them perished.37 Whatever his involvement in these events, by 174, Perseus had brought all the Dolopians under his authority (ius iudiciumque). The reason he did this, Livy says, is because some of them wanted to refer their internal disputes to the Romans rather than to Perseus himself, who evidently assumed they were de iure under his control.38 The situation was certainly ambiguous: technically freed by the Isthmian declaration of 196, the Dolopians had been reconquered by Philip, with Rome’s blessing, in 191, but may have been reliberated by the senatorial commission’s judgment, in 185, that Philip’s kingdom should be restricted to its ancient boundaries.39 However that may be, in 174, Perseus probably gambled – rightly, it turned out, at least for the moment – on the senate’s ongoing indifference to his military and diplomatic initiatives, and interpreted his prerogatives under Roman amicitia as he saw fit.40 After subduing the Dolopians, Perseus marched peacefully across Mt. Oeta to Delphi, returning, as was seen earlier, to his kingdom via Thessaly and Phthiotic Achaea, without doing harm to any of the Greeks or their property.41

36 37 38

39

40

41

Livy 41.19, 23.12 (retrospective). See Hammond 1988: 496 and n. 2. Oros. 4.20.34–5. See Hammond 1988: 496 and n. 3. Livy 41.22.4; cf. 41.23.13; Polyb. 22.18.4; and perhaps (see below, Chapter 5, p. 80) RDGE 40 ll. 19–20 (retrospective). Livy 33.34.6 (liberation of Dolopians, 196); 36.33.7 (conquest by Philip, 191); 39.26.14 (senatorial commission’s judgment, 185). On these events, see above Chapter 3, pp. 45–6, and below, Chapter 5, pp. 80, 83–5. On the inherent flexibility of interpretation of the parameters of amicitia by its participants (which is also fertile ground for the growth of disputes between them), see Burton 2011: 99, 113, 163, 212, 223, 234–44, 259, 331–2, 344, 353. Livy 41.22.5–6; cf. Livy 41.23.13–14; Polyb. 22.18.4; RDGE 40 ll. 6–13 (retrospective). Discussion of Dolopian campaign and visit to Delphi: Meloni 1953: 131–5.

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Perseus and Rome, 179–172 Despite the scrupulously pacific nature of his journey to Delphi and back to Macedonia, Livy says that Perseus’ sudden appearance in central Greece struck great terror into the surrounding population, some of whom sent envoys to Eumenes II of Pergamum. Thus began the process of Perseus’ undoing: within just over two years, and largely at Eumenes’ instigation, Rome and Perseus would be in a formal state of war with each other. It will be appropriate to pause here and review the evidence for the Roman perspective on Perseus’ actions since the beginning of his reign. Unfortunately, the view is obscured by rumor and innuendo in the sources, most of it originating ultimately in anti-Macedonian Pergamene propaganda, and Polybius’ thesis, to be discussed later, that Perseus inherited his father Philip’s secret plans for a war of revenge against Rome. As was seen earlier, the Romans gladly renewed their amicitia with Macedon and acknowledged Perseus as king at the outset of his reign. After the Dardani and Thracians complained to the senate of Perseus’ involvement in the attacks of the Bastarnae on them, the senatorial embassy that was sent to investigate allegedly discovered that all the resources of Macedon were being mobilized for war. Significantly, Appian, probably following Polybius, does not say against whom this mobilization was directed. Of course, Eumenes would later allege that Rome itself was the intended target. But this need not have been the senate’s view in 175, as disturbing as Perseus’ war preparations may have seemed. Indeed, the senate’s official response to Perseus’ defense of his actions points in this direction. The patres refused to exonerate or condemn the king, and asked him to take care to give the appearance of adhering to their treaty. The studied ambiguity of the first part of the reply was meant to assuage Perseus’ accusers without alienating the king unduly. The emphasis on the appearance of compliance with the terms of his father’s peace treaty with Rome was formulated with an eye to Rome’s watchful allies. The senate was requesting of Perseus that he not give the latter even the slightest grounds for complaint. This was purely for reasons of self-interest: to stem the flow of embassies of grievance to Rome, avert the tedium of listening to endless ambassadorial speeches, and avoid the expense, in terms of time and resources, of sending senatorial embassies out to far-flung and potentially dangerous places.42 42

Livy 41.19.4-6, with Gruen 1984: 406. On the similarly studied ambiguity of the senatorial commission’s judgment in 185 that Philip should restrict his territory to Macedon’s ancestral boundaries (Livy 39.26.14), see above, Chapter 3, pp. 45–6. The senate’s warning that Perseus not give the

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In 174, Massinissa, the king of Numidia, alleged that there had been an exchange of ambassadors between Perseus and Rome’s old enemy, Carthage, and that the Macedonian envoys met with the Carthaginian senate under cover of night in the temple of Asculapius. Massinissa, of course, had his own reasons for sowing suspicion against Carthage in the minds of the senators. He was, after all, the main beneficiary of the Roman victory over Carthage in the Second Punic War, and spent the rest of his life chipping away at Carthaginian territory and power, while Rome looked the other way, and, as Polybius asserts, always decided against the Carthaginians, not because theirs was an unjust cause, but because it suited Roman interests to decide against them.43 In 174, however, the senate knew what Massinissa was about, and rather than seizing on his report as evidence of Macedonian treachery, or a pretext to declare war on Perseus, the patres sent out a fact-finding embassy to Macedonia.44 The ambassadors returned in 173, and reported that Perseus refused to hear them, and that some of his courtiers tried to excuse the king on the grounds of him being absent or ill. Nevertheless, the ambassadors continued, they had seen clear evidence of Perseus’ preparations for war, which was now imminent.45 Around this same time, Roman envoys who had been sent to Aetolia in the previous year to look into the situation there returned to Rome and made their report. As was seen earlier, in 177 Perseus intervened in Aetolia, which was wracked by a debt crisis, and installed a garrison. By 176, civil strife had abated somewhat, the Aetolians began to negotiate among themselves, and invited the Romans to broker a lasting agreement. By the time the Romans arrived in the closing months of 174, however, the

43

44 45

appearance of anti-Roman behavior is precisely the same as that issued to Philip in 184/3 (Polyb. 23.9.7, see below, Chapter 5, n. 68) – and served the same purpose, i.e. to stem the flow of embassies of complaint to Rome. This interpretation is certainly preferable to the vague and paradoxical formulation of Hammond 1988: 496, that “Rome had no specific complaint against [Perseus]. But the warning was emphatic.” Waterfield 2014: 167 over-translates Livy (“Perseus was warned … not even [sic] to give the appearance of transgressing the terms of their treaty”; compare the Latin text quoted above, n. 34), thus changing the senate’s meaning entirely and adding an inappropriate tone of menace to the decree’s language. Polyb. 31.21.6. On Rome’s relationship with Carthage and Massinissa between 200 and 146, see now Burton 2011: 307–23, with references. Livy 41.22.1–3. Livy 42.2.1–2. Briscoe 2012: 16 (with e.g. Nissen 1863: 241; Bickermann 1953: 506, against e.g. Pais 1926: 555 and n. 42; Meloni 1953: 143) argues that this passage is probably an annalistic invention since it seems to imply (in contradiction to Livy [P] 41.22.3 and 41.25.5–6) that it was the same set of envoys that visited Thrace and Aetolia. Gruen 1984: 407 (contra Meloni 1953: 144) thinks it unlikely that Perseus refused to hear the ambassadors because he was tired of Rome’s incessant meddling. Only one prior embassy of this nature to Perseus – the one concerning the Bastarnae – is recorded (Polyb. 26.6.2–6; cf. Livy 41.19.4–5; App. Mac. 11.1).

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situation in Aetolia had degenerated considerably; Livy alleges “massive slaughter, approaching genocidal proportions, on both sides.”46 The followers of Eupolemus, who had been League stratēgos in 176/5, had, in 175/ 4, massacred eighty aristocrats in the faction of his rival, Proxenus, former League stratēgos for 183/2.47 The Romans met with delegates from the League at Delphi, perhaps because the Aetolian cities themselves were too violent and dangerous. Livy produces two versions of what followed.48 In the first, Proxenus gets the better of a highly contentious debate, because of the superiority of his oratory, and of his cause, but is poisoned a few days later by his wife Orthobula, who was eventually tried and condemned for the act, and sent into exile. In the second version, Livy states that the two sides argued their cases as fiercely as they had fought their civil wars, and were equally matched in outrageousness and rashness.49 The head of the Roman delegation, M. Claudius Marcellus (cos. 183?),50 refused to settle the matter, asking both factions to lay aside their quarrels and end the bloodshed. As a sign of good faith, they exchanged hostages, who were to reside at Corinth. Whichever account is the truer, the outcome was the same: unlike his colleagues, who managed to settle the debt crises in Thessaly and Perrhaebia,51 Marcellus achieved nothing. He had to admit that the Romans had lost complete control of the situation: the principals of the warring factions could no longer be restrained by Roman authority.52 Before returning home to deliver his report, Marcellus crossed to Achaea to congratulate the League for its wisdom in not bowing to Macedonian pressure to lift the ban on Macedonians entering their territory.53 46

47

48

49

50 51

52 53

Aeotolorum in semet ipsos uersus furor mutuis caedibus ad internecionem adducturus uidebatur gentem (Livy 41.25.1). Livy 41.25.1–4. On the chronology, see Meloni 1953: 142–3; Briscoe 2012: 132. Here I follow Briscoe (against Meloni) that Eupolemus orchestrated the massacre of Proxenus’ followers after his stratēgia of 176/5 since Livy calls him princeps ciuitatis, “a leading man of the state.” Livy’s usual Latin formulation for stratēgos is praetor (cf. 35.12.4, 44.1; 38.8.1, etc.). Livy 41.25.5–6; 42.4.5, 5.8–12. Briscoe 2012:  16, 131, 165 (following Nissen 1863:  243–4) argues Polybius is the source of 41.25, and that 42.4.5, a doublet of 42.2.2, signals Livy’s transition from his annalistic source back to Polybius for 42.5. Aetolorum causas M. Marcellus Delphis per idem tempus iisdem hostilibus actas animis quos intestino gesserant bello cognouit. Cum certatum utrimque temeritate atque audacia cerneret … (Livy 42.5.10–11, with Ruperti’s emendation of quos for quas in the MS, and Madvig’s addition of iisdem, which does not appear in the MS. These solutions seem as reasonable as any for the highly corrupt text that has come down to us. See Briscoe 2012: 169–70). Briscoe 2012: 169 for the conjecture. The leadership of these communities was criticized by the Romans, who then ordered that only just debts should be paid, and in ten annual instalments (the creditors having charged illegally high interest on the original loans): Livy 42.5.7–10. Livy 42.2.2. Livy 42.6.1–2, and above, pp. 60–1.

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Late in 173, Eumenes arrived in Rome, perhaps stimulated by the delegations from the Greek states that had been sent to Pergamum after Perseus marched south with his army to Delphi in late 174. Eumenes handed over a memorandum of charges against Perseus and, in the early months of 172, was given the privilege of addressing a closed-door session of the senate. Livy says that what transpired in the chamber only came to light after the war with Perseus was over. Eumenes, who Livy (following Polybius) says was a far more beneficent king to the Greeks than Perseus, pious toward his relatives, just toward his subjects, and munificent toward all men (as opposed to Perseus, who had killed his own wife, his subjects, and various foreigners),54 delivered a scathing indictment of his Macedonian rival.55 A few days later, an audience was granted to envoys from Perseus. The senate rejected the king’s excuses and pleas, laid out by leader of the embassy, Harpalus, who reacted with excessive arrogance (ferocia nimia), according to Livy, arguing that the king had said and done nothing hostile to Rome. Mars was impartial, warned Harpalus, and the chances of war were unpredictable; if the Romans were thought to be seeking a pretext for war against Perseus, the king would bravely defend himself.56 A Rhodian ambassador was also present, who suspected that Eumenes had laid accusations against Rhodes, and was angry at not being allowed to be present when Eumenes made his speech. He attacked Eumenes in the most vicious terms, accusing him of stirring up Rhodes’ Lycian subjects against the island republic, and stating that Eumenes was a bigger enemy than Antiochus III had ever been.57 “The speech,” says Livy, “was offensive to the senate and unhelpful to the ambassador and to the Rhodian state.”58 Harpalus returned to Macedonia and informed the king that although the Romans were not yet preparing for war, their open hostility to Perseus 54 55

56

57 58

Livy 42.5.4–6. Polybian derivation: Meloni 1953: 153; Briscoe 2012: 165. Livy 42.11–14.1; cf. Diod. Sic. 29.34.1; Val. Max. 2.2.1; Plut. Cat. Mai. 8.12–13; App. Mac. 11.3. Appian says that the senators criticized Eumenes for warmongering based on his private fears and grudges, while Livy (42.14.1) says the king’s words “moved” the senate (haec oratio mouit patres conscriptos). Gruen 1984: 409 is probably right to query, “how far and to do what?” A year later, Rome’s war preparations were still not complete. For a detailed analysis, see next chapter. Livy 42.14.2–4; cf. App. Mac. 11.3. Diod. Sic. 29.34.1 says that Harpalus did not deliver a speech in reply, perhaps misinterpreting his ignorance of the content of Eumenes’ closed-door speech as silence. See Briscoe 2012: 198–9. Livy 42.14.7–8. Inuisam senatui inutilemque sibi et ciuitati suae (Livy 42.14.9). Appian (Mac. 11.3) adds that the Rhodian spokesman was intemperate, but not necessarily untruthful. Livy 42.14.6 seems to be a summary of some of the material in App. Mac. 11.3; it may be a gloss. On the decline of Roman– Rhodian relations, see below, Chapter 5, pp. 84–5, and Chapter 7, pp. 178–81.

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indicated they would not put it off much longer. Perseus, says Livy, was so eager for war, thinking he was at the height of his power (and, it should be added, thinking that the Romans were unprepared), that he decided to precipitate it by attempting to kill Eumenes as he was returning from Rome, via Delphi, to his kingdom. He dispatched a Cretan mercenary captain called Evander, along with three Macedonian assassins to Praxo, a friend of Perseus and a very influential woman at Delphi. The assassins set up their ambush at a spot on the steep incline leading up to the sanctuary, where the passage was so narrow that visitors could only walk single-file. As Eumenes passed by, in conversation with Pantaleon the Aetolian, the assassins rained down huge boulders from atop the cliff onto the passageway below. Eumenes was struck on the head and shoulder, and would have met his end under a hail of stones had not Pantaleon shielded him from their blows. The assassins, reckoning it unnecessary to verify that they had finished Eumenes off, retreated to Parnassus, killing a particularly sluggish member of their own party in the process, lest he be captured and used as a source of information about the plot. The assassins escaped, but Eumenes soon recovered, to the surprise of everyone  – including his brother Attalus, who, amid the confusion of rumors about the king’s death, attempted to marry his wife, Stratonice.59 Meanwhile, a Roman embassy sent to Greece and Macedon in late 173 had completed its investigation of the state of Perseus’ kingdom.60 The head of the delegation, C.  Valerius Laevinus, reported to the senate in mid-172 that his findings confirmed all of Eumenes’ charges. He brought with him Praxo of Delphi, who had housed Eumenes’ would-be assassins, as well as Rammius of Brundisium. The latter was a prominent citizen of his hometown, and often entertained Roman ambassadors and generals when they passed through. He was also an intimate of Perseus, who had recently pressured him into agreeing to poison the Roman dignitaries who visited his house, promising to furnish the poison himself. Rammius was afraid that, if he refused, he would be the poisoner-king’s first victim, and so he made contact with Valerius Laevinus near Chalcis, and travelled with him to Rome rather than return to Brundisium.61 59

60 61

Livy 42.15–16; cf. 42.29.2, 40.8; 44.1.10; 45.5.4–5, 11; RDGE 40 ll. 29–35; Polyb. 22.18.5; 27.6.2; Diod. Sic. 29.34.2; App. Mac. 11.4 (retrospective). Plutarch (Mor. 184A-B, 489D–490A) believes that Attalus actually took the crown, married Stratonice, and had intercourse with her, producing the future Attalus II. This is probably untrue: Walbank 1979: 217; cf. 417–18; Briscoe 2012: 209 (against e.g. Pais 1926: 556 n. 45). The story nevertheless demonstrates the cut-throat nature of Hellenistic court politics. Livy 42.6.4–5. Livy 42.17; cf. 42.40.9, 41.4 (retrospective). Rammius is called Erennius in App. Mac. 11.7, but the actual name is unknown due to corruption in the MSS:  Meloni 1953:  165 and n.  5; Briscoe 2012: 210–11.

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At this stage, according to Livy, Perseus was declared an enemy (hostis), and discussion of the war was placed on the agenda for the first senate meeting after the election of the consuls for 171. Eumenes, after recuperating on Aegina, returned to his kingdom to begin his war preparations, and the Romans sent an embassy to Pergamum to congratulate the king on his recovery. Envoys from various Thracian tribes then arrived in Rome seeking friendship and an alliance. The senate was only too happy to oblige, says Livy, because of their proximity to Macedonia.62 The senate then dispatched Ti. Claudius Nero and M. Decimius to the Aegean islands and Asia, with a view to testing the loyalties of the Cretans and Rhodians in particular.63 Livy next reports an embassy from the Greek island state of Issa, an old Roman amicus of almost sixty years’ standing.64 The Issaei complained of attacks by the Illyrian king Genthius on their territory, and accused him of collaborating with Perseus on his plans for war on Rome. Genthius must have known what the Issaei were going to accuse him of, for an Illyrian delegation was also present, whom the Issaei accused of being spies, sent to Rome by Perseus. The Illyrians claimed, probably truthfully, that their king was not collaborating with Perseus, but the senate refused to listen to them as official ambassadors since they had failed to follow diplomatic protocol when they arrived in Rome. They had apparently failed to inform a Roman magistrate of the purpose of their visit, or to secure official lodging and entertainment. The senate then dispatched an embassy to Genthius to inform the king that he was doing wrong by attacking Rome’s Issaean allies.65 Meanwhile, a five-man embassy under the leadership of the consular Q.  Marcius Philippus was dispatched to Greece, along with a thousand Roman infantry, to visit various Greek states and reaffirm loyalties.66 62

63

64 65 66

The motives of these Thracian peoples is unknown. Briscoe 2012: 219 speculates that they may have been disturbed by Perseus’ march to Byzantium, his alliance with Cotys, Eumenes’ propaganda, or some combination of the three. Livy 42.19.6–8. The names of the Thracian tribes involved are hopelessly corrupt in the only surviving MS of Livy’s ninth pentad; for possible solutions, see Meloni 1953: 168–9; Briscoe 2012: 218–19. For the problematic embassy of Cn. Servilius Caepio, Ap. Claudius Centho, and T. Annius Luscus to Macedon (Livy 42.25), see Appendix A. On the Roman-Issaean amicitia, established in 229, see now Burton 2011: 136–41, 229. Livy 42.26.2–7. For the chronology of what follows, see Appendix B. Gruen 1984: 411–12 quite rightly regards this activity as being designed “to present [Perseus] with a formidable coalition that could induce compliance,” and “to establish Hellenic solidarity and to demonstrate the isolation of Macedonia.” The parallel with the situation in 200, before the war with Philip, is undeniable, but diplomatic activity in 172 was on a much larger scale – a probable result of the deepening of Roman interests there after 196, and especially after 188, when the maintenance

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While they were still at Corcyra, a letter from Perseus arrived asking why the Romans had brought troops over and were garrisoning cities. The ambassadors replied that they had brought the troops for the protection of the cities.67 They then split up and visited their several destinations. L. Decimius went to Genthius to remind him of his amicitia with Rome, and to induce him to provide active support in the upcoming war with Perseus. P. and Ser. Cornelius Lentulus were sent to Cephallenia so they could cross to the Peloponnese and sail down its west coast before winter. Marcius, along with the ex-praetor A. Atilius Serranus, were to visit Epirus, Aetolia, and Thessaly before crossing to the Peloponnese to rendezvous with the Lentuli.68 The visit of the latter did not go as smoothly as they had hoped. Despite unanimous declarations of support for Rome in the upcoming war, the Achaean League leadership was upset that the Romans made separate visits to the Elaeans and the Messenians, since this subtly undercut the League’s authority over these peoples.69 Marcius and Atilius were more successful, securing the loyalty of the Epirotes, Aetolians, and Thessalians. Delegations from Acarnania and a group of Boeotian exiles came to the Romans while they were visiting Thessaly. To the Acarnanians the Romans extended the benefit of the doubt for their siding with Philip V and Antiochus III in Rome’s previous wars with those kings, allowing that they may have been deceived by royal promises. Because the Romans had been merciful toward them on these earlier occasions, when they clearly did not deserve it, the ambassadors were urging them now to experience Roman generosity by deserving well of it by siding with Rome in the upcoming war. The Boeotians were faulted for their recent alliance with Perseus, and when the exiles objected that it was all the fault of a single individual (Ismenias, stratēgos of the Boeotian confederacy in 173/2), who had coerced various

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of stability and the prevention of the emergence of any hegemonic rivals were paramount Roman concerns. Meloni 1953:  182; Rich 1976:  90; Gruen 1984:  412 (against e.g. Kahrstedt 1911:  428; De Sanctis 1923:  274; Broughton 1951:  413, 415 n.  8)  note that the Roman delegation had no brief to visit Perseus, its purpose being to demonstrate the isolation of Macedon (see n. 66). Marcius only agreed to meet with him after Perseus himself requested it (Rich), and after confirming the loyalty of the Greek states, “when he,” Marcius, “had stronger cards to play” (Gruen). Livy 42.37.1–6. Livy 42.37.7–9. What transpired in Achaea is more complicated than this, but the passage is hopelessly corrupt. Livy should thus not be held responsible for the apparent Achaean (false) assertions that the League had sided with Rome from the very beginning of the Macedonian wars (the League had, in fact, sided with Macedon in the First Macedonian War, and did not join Rome until 198, two years into the Second), or that Elis and Messenia had sided with Philip V against Rome in the First and Second Macedonian Wars (which is simply untrue). For various emendation attempts, non liquet, see now Briscoe 2012: 274–5.

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cities into joining in, the Romans replied that they would soon have the power of deciding about themselves, thereby signaling their intention to break up the confederacy.70 Marcius then met with envoys from Perseus. Both sides acknowledged the mutual hospitium and amictia that existed between their fathers, and on that basis agreed to meet in the Vale of Tempe in eastern Thessaly at the earliest convenient opportunity. After some preliminary negotiations, Perseus crossed the Peneus River, agreeing with Philippus’ joke that the younger/inferior son should cross over to the elder/superior father.71 The talks began with Marcius listing Perseus’ previous violations of his treaty with Rome:72 he had driven from his kingdom Abrupolis, a socius et amicus populi Romani; given shelter to the assassins of Arthetaurus, the most faithful of all the kings of Illyria toward Rome (omnium Illyriorum fidissimum Romanis regulum); crossed through Thessalian and Malian territory to Delphi in arms, sent military aid to Byzantium, and made an alliance with Boeotia  – all contrary to the treaty; had a hand in the deaths of the Theban ambassadors Eversa and Callicritus; stoked the civil war and slaughter of the principes in Aetolia; made war on the Dolopians; and tried to kill Eumenes at Delphi, and Roman senators through his proxy Rammius of Brundisium.73 Perseus attempted to defend himself even though, he said, Marcius was both prosecutor and judge. He pointed out the absurdity of Eumenes’ and Rammius’ claims on the grounds that the former had many enemies, and the latter was simply beneath his (or any honest man’s) notice; he pointed out that Eversa and Callicritus died in a natural disaster – a shipwreck – and he was simply following the law of nations when he respected the exile of 70

71

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73

Livy 42.37.7–38.7. The story of the disputed election of Ismenias, and his subsequent imposition of the death penalty on the pro-Roman leadership (the exiles here visiting Marcius), is told, in flashback, at Livy 42.43.7–9. The point of the joke being that Philippus’ name was the same as Perseus’ father, King Philip V, with whom he shared hospitium and amicitia as well. But Philippus was also making a point about the nature of the Roman-Macedonian amicitia; see below, Chapter 5, p. 116. That is, the conditions of the peace imposed on his father in 196 (as opposed to Perseus’ “treaty of friendship,” renewed in 179, which did not exist: above, n. 1). That the terms of the peace of 196 are being referred to here is shown by Marcius’ list of charges, several of which violate the formulaic pledge, common to all such treaties, that the parties will have the same friends and enemies. See Libero 1997. Livy 42.38.8–40.11. Livy’s Marcius says that Perseus’ ambassadors responded to the senate about this last charge, but no such embassy is recorded, and Livy is probably exaggerating here. See Briscoe 2012: 287. Gruen 1984: 412–13 doubts that Livy, following Polybius, accurately reports what Marcius actually said here, since a meeting with Perseus was not envisioned by the senate when they dispatched the embassy (above, nn. 66–7), and Marcius therefore had no specific instructions on what to say at such a meeting.

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the assassins of Arthetaurus, and in the end banned them from Macedonia anyway; about Abrupoils and the Dolopians, Perseus defended himself on the grounds of self-defense against the former, and of Macedonian sovereignty (previously acknowledged by Rome) over the latter, after they had killed the Macedonian governor Euphranor; he had also, he insisted, done no damage to any Greek state on his trip to and from Delphi; and as for his military assistance to Aetolia and Byzantium, this had been cleared by the Roman senate itself, and had only become a cause for complaint since the visit to Rome of Eumenes, who was a far worse tyrant than Antiochus III had ever been. Marcius then suggested that Perseus send envoys to Rome, a plan congenial to both, since Marcius knew that the Romans’ war preparations were not yet complete, and the king thought peace might still be achieved.74 The Romans now moved on to Boeotia. Evidently Marcius’ earlier comment to the Boeotian exiles, that the individual cities of the region would soon have the power to decide their fate for themselves, did its work: the confederacy was already breaking apart.75 Civil strife between the proRoman and pro-Macedonian factions continued to blaze in Thebes over the question of whether to maintain the treaty with Perseus. The men of Coronea and Haliartus came to Thebes to shift sentiment in favor of the treaty, but a certain Olympichus of Coronea persuaded the Thebans to abandon it. Dicetas was dispatched to Marcius to apologize for making the treaty, while the pro-Macedonians Neon and Hippias were expelled. The Theban assembly voted honors to the Romans, and ordered their magistrates to work on making an alliance with Rome, dispatch envoys to Marcius, surrender Thebes to Rome, and bring the pro-Roman exiles back.76 Meanwhile, Lases and Calleas of Thespiae, along with the proMacedonian former Boeotian stratēgos Ismenias, accosted the Roman delegation on its way to Chalcis, the Thespians offering to surrender their city to Roman discretion, and Ismenias offering to surrender all the cities of the confederacy. The latter offer was refused, says Polybius, since it was in 74

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Livy 42.41.1–43.4; cf. App. Mac. 11.5–8 (misplaced and wrongly attributed to an envoy of the king before the Roman senate after Eumenes’ closed-door session, albeit for Appian’s own artistic reasons: Goukowsky 2011: 161–2; cf. Rich 1976: 97–8; Warrior 1981: 47 n. 68; Gruen 1984: 413 n. 82; Briscoe 2012: 11 n. 39, 287–8, but for all that, based on Polybian material: Briscoe 2012: 288; cf. Rich 1976: 98 n. 139). Gruen 1984: 413 doubts Marcius’ motive for wanting a breathing-space before the war began. Livy 42.38.5, 43.5. Polyb. 27.1; cf. Livy 42.43.4–44.4 (including the background to the civil strife at Thebes; see above, n. 70).

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the Romans’ interest to break up the confederacy.77 Marcius froze Ismenias out, but treated the delegates from the individual cities in a kindly manner. The latter physically attacked Ismenias, forcing him to seek shelter at the Romans’ headquarters.78 At Chalcis, the Romans were greeted by the news of the triumph of the pro-Roman faction at Thebes, which in turn sparked a movement among the other Boeotian states to the Roman side. The pro-Roman exiles at Chalcis appointed a certain Pompides to begin building the indictment against Ismenias, Dicetas, and Neon. The Romans were unable (or unwilling) to restrain the violence of the mob against Hippias and the other proMacedonians. Marcius then received the Thebans, advised them to allow the exiles to return, and ordered the delegations from the rest of the cities to go to Rome to announce their surrender to Roman discretion. Having achieved their twin design, says Polybius, of breaking up the Boeotian confederacy and destroying the goodwill of the many towards the ruling house of Macedon, Marcius and Atilius departed for the Peloponnese, leaving Ser. Lentulus in charge of Chalcis, to be joined later on by a garrison of a thousand Achaean League troops. Neon fled to Macedonia, while Ismenias and Dicetas were imprisoned, and later committed suicide.79 The two-man embassy that had been sent to Asia and the Aegean verified the loyalty to Rome of Ptolemy VI, Antiochus IV (both of whom had rejected Perseus’ overtures), and of all the Greek allies.80 Polybius says they spent most of their time at Rhodes, for which there was little need, for the pro-Roman Hagesilochus, who was then prytanis of the Rhodians, had already successfully urged his countrymen to support the Roman cause, and arranged for the preparation of forty ships before the Roman envoys arrived. This was seen as a prudent course of action, says Polybius, since if the ships were required, they would be ready to go, thus avoiding the hassle of rushing about at the 77 78 79

80

Polyb. 27.3.3, with Walbank 1979: 292, on Polybius’ meaning here. Polyb. 27.1.4–6; cf. Livy 42.44.2. Polyb. 27.2; cf. Livy 42.44.5–8. Chalcis, as one of “Three Fetters” of Greece, was obviously strategically far too valuable for the Romans to abandon at this stage, when hostilities with Perseus seemed inevitable, and Boeotia had been so destabilized by recent events. The request for the Achaean garrison, incidentally, is a strong argumentum ex silentio that Cn. Sicinius’ advance forces had not yet crossed the Adriatic. See Appendix B. Livy 42.26.7-9; for the dispatch of this embassy, see Livy 42.19.6-8, with above, p. 69. At 42.26.7–9, Livy’s ambassadors report to the senate that the Rhodians were wavering, but this ill suits the thrust of Polybius’ account of the Roman visit to Rhodes: the Rhodians needed little persuading to take up the Roman cause, and the Roman ambassadors thought very highly of the goodwill of the Rhodians (below, from Polyb. 27.3.2–3, 5). Livy omits this from his version of Polybius’ report at 42.45 (a doublet of the annalistic Livy 42.26.7–9), and instead substitutes further arguments by the Rhodian Hagesilochus (see n. 81).

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last minute to prepare them.81 The Roman envoys departed Rhodes, pleased with what they had witnessed. While all this Roman activity was going on, Perseus was taking steps to shore up his support in Greece. He sent envoys with letters to the Byzantines and Rhodians, among others, outlining his exchange with Marcius, constructing his account in such a way as to make it appear that he had had the best of the dispute. The Rhodians were treated to more than just a letter; Perseus’ envoys, Antenor and Philippus, also addressed the Rhodian boulē, asking its members to remain neutral for the moment, but if the Romans did attack Perseus, contrary to the treaty, then to try to reconcile the warring parties. The Rhodians in particular were suited to this task, the ambassadors argued, since insofar as they were the best protectors of equality, freedom of speech, and of their own political freedom and that of the Greeks, it was all the more appropriate that they especially should look out for and resist with all their power the opposite result.82 In other words, they must see to it that the power and rule over everything not be handed over to a single people.83 The envoys’ words, while pleasing to everybody, were ultimately ineffective since all were restrained by their goodwill toward Rome, and the pro-Roman policy prevailed.84 The 81

82

83

84

The other arguments put in Hagesilochus’ mouth at Livy 42.45, based upon but missing from Polyb. 27.3, are that the Rhodians should prepare their fleet to fend off accusations of Rhodian disloyalty by Eumenes, and that the Roman alliance is the only stable one left in the world in terms of good faith and strength. I have earlier argued that the Polybian account is to be preferred to the annalistic version (Burton 2011: 176), but now think the entire question of Rhodian disloyalty to Rome during the Third Punic War is too mired in post euentum propaganda and speculation by the ancient sources to permit such certainty (see below, Chapter 5, pp. 84–5, and Chapter 7, pp. 178–81). The annalistic version at least has the virtue of being consistent with Rome’s attempt to humiliate Rhodes in 177; see below, Chapter 5, p. 84. Polyb. 27.4.7. Livy reduces Polybius’ lofty ideals of “equality, free speech, and … political freedom” (τῆς ἰσηγορίας καὶ παρρησίας … καὶ ἐλευθερίας) to “esteem and strength” (dignitate atque opibus), but glosses Polybius’ “the opposite condition of freedom” (ἐλευθερίας … τὴν ἐναντίαν προαίρεσιν) as serua, “slavery,” thus retaining the idea of freedom. See Briscoe 2012: 311. For the use of the slogan of Greek freedom here by Perseus’ envoys, see below, Chapter 7, n. 32. This sentence is a paraphrase of Livy 42.46.4, the previous one of Polybius 27.4.6–7. The latter is more allusive, while Livy spells it out, perhaps recalling a passage or passages in Polybius, e.g. Polyb. 30.6.5–8, where he discusses the strategic calculus of Greek politicians, like himself, who were not happy with the supremacy of one power resulting from the war with Perseus, and so tried to avoid supporting or opposing Rome, or 1.83.3–4, where Polybius praises Hiero II for trying to balance Carthage and Rome. Livy knew about this Polybian sentiment, and used it elsewhere: Livy 37.35.5, and, in the context of the war with Perseus, 42.30.5–6. Cf. also Cato ORF3 Cato fr. 164 (= Gell. NA 6.3.16), who argued that the Rhodians, like many nations, did not want the Romans to be victorious over Perseus since there would be no state left for the Romans to fear, resulting in their enslavement to Rome’s sole rule. Briscoe 2012: 311 lists the relevant parallels except for Polyb. 1.83.3–4. Polybius writes (27.4.9) that τοῦ βελτίονος prevailed. Livy 42.46.5 took this to mean “the better men,” the pro-Roman faction (partis melioris), which, according to Walbank 1979: 297, is what Polybius meant. However, Briscoe 2012: 311 believes that τοῦ βελτίονος means “the better policy,”

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envoys were asked to petition Perseus not to request of them anything that might seem to go against Roman wishes. A separate Macedonian embassy, led by a certain Antigonus, son of Alexander, was sent to Boeotia since Perseus had learned that some towns there were still favorable toward him.85 Antigonus visited Coronea, Thisbe, and Haliartus, begging those places to stay loyal to Macedon.86 All three towns sent envoys to Macedonia, and Antigonus returned to make his report to Perseus. Upon their arrival at court, the Boeotians pleaded with Perseus to send help to the pro-Macedonian towns since the Thebans were harassing them to align with the Romans. Perseus responded that his hands were effectively tied during a period of truce with Rome, and advised them to fight the Thebans as best they could, but not to fight the Romans.87 Meanwhile, back in Rome, mobilization had begun. The praetors were ordered to refit, assemble, and man the Roman and allied fleets; to raise troops from the Latin allies, transfer a legion and some more Latin troops from Liguria; and to assemble them all at Brundisium five days before the

85

86

87

and that Livy misunderstood Polybius. Given that modern theories that discern a class warfare/ social revolution dimension to the conflict between Perseus and Rome have no basis in the ancient evidence (Gruen 1976; Mendels 1978; cf. below, Chapter 5, pp. 118–19), Briscoe’s reading is probably to be preferred here. Polyb. 27.5.1. Livy 42.46.6 has the embassy of Antenor and Philippus, rather than Anitgonus, visit Boeotia on a circuitous route from Rhodes back to Macedon. Livy, perhaps “for reasons of composition” (Walbank 1979:  297, followed by Briscoe 2012:  311:  “for literary motives”), has altered Polybius, who is to be preferred here. The Polybian MSS unanimously read Θήβας instead of Θίσβας at Polyb. 27.5.3, but Mommsen 1872:  287–8 recognized that the former lectio facilior must have replaced the latter in the transmission of the text. This may have happened early enough for Livy to read Θήβας in his text of Polybius since the Livian MS has the Macedonians visit Thebas et Coroneam et Haliartum (42.46.7), and Livy (42.46.9) tries to resolve the inconsistency between this and the Thebans’ reckless arrogance (impotentem superbiam) in attacking the pro-Macedonian Boeotians by inserting a sentence (42.46.8, not in Polybius) about Theban intransigence and anger before the Roman envoys (Thebani nihil moti sunt … suscensebant Romanis), and by having only Haliartus and Coronea send envoys to Macedonia (42.46.9). See Meloni 1953:  200 n.  3 (with earlier literature there cited); Gruen 1976: 59 n. 159; Walbank 1979: 298; Briscoe 2012: 312 (against e.g. Heiland 1913: 36–7, who rejects Mommsen’s emendation; Tränkle 1977: 39–40 n. 72, who argued that a lacuna, corresponding to Livy 42.46.8, followed Polyb. 27.5.3, but this makes nonsense of Livy [P] 42.44.5–6, where the proRoman group is firmly in the saddle at Thebes). Polyb. 27.5; cf. Livy 42.46.7–10 (modifying Polybius:  Perseus tells the Boeotians not to give the Romans an excuse to attack them). The “truce” (indutiae in Livy, αἱ ἀνοχαί in Polybius) is also mentioned at Livy 42.43.2–4 and 47.1, 3, 10. The term is legally problematic since it was declared by Marcius, a legatus without imperium, before war had been declared or begun. This may, however, be convenient shorthand to describe what was, in fact, a more complicated situation (“an agreement to refrain from hostilities”: Gruen 1984: 413 n. 83; “a postponement of hostilities”:  Walbank 1941:  86 and n.  35; “standstill”:  Hammond 1988:  510 and n.  2; cf. Bickermann 1953: 497 and n. 2; contra Frank 1910: 358–61; Warrior 1981: 6, 10, 22). See further Appendix B.

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consular elections on (Varronian) 18 February, ready for transshipment to Apollonia. Commissioners were also sent to Apulia and Calabria to secure grain supplies for the army at Brundisium.88 At the end of the year the consul C. Popillius Laenas returned to Rome to preside over the consular elections for 171. P. Licinius Crassus and C. Cassius Longinus were returned, and the senatus consultum advising the declaration of war on Perseus, citing the king’s armed attacks on Rome’s allies, and his long-standing plans for war and military buildup for that purpose, was successfully passed in the centuriate assembly.89 After some dispute between the consuls over which of the two was more entitled to be assigned command in the war against Perseus, the lot determined that Licinius would undertake the task, with two extra-strength legions, 16,000 allied infantry, and 8,000 allied cavalry added to the forces already mustered at Brundisium.90 *

*

*

Perhaps as many as eighteen months had passed between Eumenes’ presentation of a list of Perseus’ crimes and misdemeanors to the Roman senate and the Roman declaration of war on the Macedonian king in April, 171. According to Livy, even before Eumenes’ arrival in Rome in late 173, war with Macedon was already in expectatione, and before the king addressed the senate in early 172, it was said to be “imminent.”91 Despite this, the consuls of 172 had to be content with Liguria as their province, though both desired a Macedonian command.92 After 88

89

90 91 92

Livy 42.27, 36.8–9; cf. Zon. 9.22.4. Pace Briscoe 2012: 19–20 (cf. Rich 1976: 96–7), just because Livy (42.27.4) implausibly claims that the former praetor A. Atilius Serranus was to send the troops across to Macedonia (Macedoniam mitteret: to whom? And why not to Apollonia, the usual Roman destination on the other side of the Adriatic?), this does not mean the entire notice is to be rejected as inauthentic. Given that the senate had already declared Perseus a hostis, and knew the discussion of the war would take place very shortly after the consuls entered office (Livy 42.17.1–2), some advance preparation makes perfect sense at this stage. Marcius, for one, was concerned about Rome’s lack of preparedness for the war (Livy 42.43.2–3), so it is the tardiness of the mobilization, not the mobilization itself that requires explanation (see further, Appendix B). I suspect that, in his rush to get to the war itself, Livy has merely made some poor word choices (as Polybius, followed by Livy, or his source had on the matter of the “truce”: see n. 87) (see further, Appendix A). The other problem Rich identifies, that the troop numbers assigned to Sicinius at Livy 42.27.3–5 are too large compared to the figure given at 42.36.8, is not a problem either, once it is recognized that Livy was probably following two different accounts. See Appendix B. Livy 42.28.4–5 (consular election), 30.10–11; cf. 42.33.4; Diod. Sic. 30.1 (declaration of war; discussion: Rich 1976: 90–2). Livy 41.31.2–4 (troop numbers), 33.1–4 (the dispute between the consuls). Livy 42.2.3, 10.11 (imminente Persei bello). Livy 42.10.11. The senate’s refusal to allow a Macedonian command is partly to be explained by internal politics, as Livy says: because the consul C. Popillius Laenas (supported by his colleague P. Aelius Ligus) vowed to oppose any senatorial decree related to the massacre of the Ligurians by his brother Marcus in the previous year, the senate refused to decree Macedonia a province.

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Eumenes’ speech, we are told that anticipation of the war was raised to fever pitch,93 and “war had been decided upon (although not yet declared).”94 By mid-year, Perseus was even declared an enemy (hostis),95 and an embassy had been sent to Macedon to break off amicitia with him,96 and yet discussion of the war, to say nothing of its conduct, was simply left for the consuls of 171 to deal with; “the Macedonian war was put off for a year.”97 So runs Livy’s account: a paradoxical combination of senatorial eagerness for a preemptive war and reluctance to do anything about it even after it has been decided upon. Polybius’ account, as will be seen in the next chapter, is paradoxical for a different reason. In his view, Perseus inherited from his father Philip secret preparations for a war of revenge on Rome – a war which had been perhaps as long as two decades in the planning when Rome anticipated Perseus by declaring war on the king in 171. And yet, as has been seen in this chapter, Perseus seemed a most reluctant avenger, asking Marcius Philippus for one last chance to send envoys to Rome, hoping to preserve peace to the last. And, as will be seen in Chapter 6, even after he won the first significant engagement of the Third Macedonian War, Perseus offered to make peace with Rome and pay an indemnity – as though he had lost. Clearly something has gone terribly awry in the source tradition(s), and it is the task of the next chapter to discover what, and why. The problems and paradoxes outlined here are intimately bound up with the question of the causes of the Third Macedonian War, to which attention must now be turned.

93 94 95 96 97

Livy 42.20.1 (in suspensa ciuitate ad expectationem noui belli). Livy 42.19.3 (in expectatione senatus esset bello etsi non indicto). Livy 42.18.1. Livy 42.25.1, with Appendix A. Livy 42.18.2, 6 (Macedonicum bellum in annum dilatum esset).

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5

The Causes of the Third Macedonian War

Introduction Determining the causes of events, as Polybius well knew, is the historian’s most difficult task. He writes that simply listing the events that happened in the past, while interesting, is not terribly informative; it is only when causation is studied that history becomes useful.1 But determining causation is also fraught with peril for what should be the historian’s cardinal quality – objectivity. What should be included, what should be excluded? The process of selection itself – of events to relate, of emphasis, of prior opinion – is inherently subjective. And how can the construction of causation, no matter how diligently and dispassionately carried out, avoid assigning blame for such potentially world-changing events as major wars? The historian should want to avoid over-simplification, and recourse to “the unexplainable” – or fate, or the will of God or the god(s), or, as Polybius most frequently characterizes it, Tyche, or divine Fortune.2 Assessing the myriad causes of the Third Macedonian War proffered by historians is a particularly perilous exercise – as indeed it was in antiquity. For one thing, the war is at the heart of the debate over the nature of Roman imperialism. Opinions – and they are little more than that – about its most important causes tend to cluster around the extreme ends of the spectrum of belief about the Romans as a people – were they essentially (or exceptionally) aggressive, proactive, and agentic, or essentially (or 1

2

ἐπεὶ ψιλῶς λεγόμενον αὐτὸ τὸ γεγονὸς ψυχαγωγεῖ μέν, ὠφελεῖ δ᾽ οὐδέν:  προστεθείσης δὲ τῆς αἰτίας ἔγκαρπος ἡ τῆς ἱστορίας γίνεται χρῆσις (Polyb. 12.25b.2). On Thucydides’ concept of “the incalculable element,” ὁ παράλογος, see esp. Thuc. 2.61.3 (describing the great plague of Athens). There is a rich and growing bibliography on Polybius and Tyche: Walbank 1972: 58–65 and 1994; Eckstein 1995: 254–71; Brouwer 2011; Maier 2012: esp. 210–48; Deininger 2013.

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exceptionally) defensive, reactive, and passive imperialists?3 Taking a position along this continuum of opinion is made no easier by the tattered state of our few remaining, largely retrospective sources – to say nothing of modern, western sensitivities about war and imperialism (these are bad things), which are markedly different from those of the ancients (bigger is better, war is glorious, military victory brings undying fame). The most important task of the present chapter is to set out, as clearly and dispassionately as possible, the causes of the Third Macedonian War that have been identified and argued for since antiquity, beginning with Perseus’ contemporaries.

The Specific Charges Against Perseus To begin with the ancient sources, there are at least five extant discussions, of varying length, depth, and quality, of the charges laid against Perseus by his adversaries in the run-up to the Third Macedonian War.4 The most important discussions are Polybius’ in propria persona comments on the causes of the war (22.18), the speech of Eumenes and its aftermath as related by Livy (42.11–18), and an inscription, probably recording a letter of ca. 171 from a Roman magistrate to the Delphic Amphictyones laying out the Roman case for war against Perseus (RDGE 40). The latter is a remarkable document, a vivid contemporary witness to how Rome publicly justified the war not just to the Amphictyones but to the Greeks in general.5 Unfortunately, however, the stone is badly damaged, and in places the text has been heavily restored from material borrowed directly from the literary sources; where this has occurred, the inscription obviously cannot be said to represent independent evidence. As will be seen in some of the notes that follow, multiple conjectures are possible at crucial points in the document, and different reconstructions have been proffered by its various editors. 3

4

5

The case for aggression was strongly put by Harris 1979, recently revived by Waterfield 2014, but challenged by Sherwin-White 1980, and, to some extent, by Gruen 1984. Eckstein 2006 and 2008 challenges the conventional view that the Romans were exceptionally bellicose. The two not tabulated here (but referred to in the notes to the table and in the subsequent discussion) are the speech of the Callicrates at Livy 41.23.6–18, and the comparison of Eumenes and Perseus at Livy 42.5.4–6, both drawn from Polybius (below, Appendix A, pp. 200–1, and above, Chapter 4, n. 54). Bousquet 1981:  413; Goukowsky 2011:  140. As Bousquet shows, Syll.3 613B is actually the Roman magistrate’s (consul’s?) cover letter to RDGE 40, expressing his concern that the indictment against Perseus should be inscribed and set up at Delphi for the edification of all the Greeks.

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The charges as they are found in the three texts may be tabulated as follows: Charge

Polyb. 22.18

Expulsion of Abrupolisa Attack on the Dolopiansb Trip to Delphid Attack on Eumenes

22.18.2–3 (pretext) 22.18.4 (pretext) 22.18.4 (pretext) 22.18.5 (beginning) 22.18.5 (beginning) 22.18.10–11

Killing of Boeotian envoys Eversa and Callicrituse Inheritor of Philip’s planned war on Romef

Livy 42.11-18

RDGE 40

42.13.6 42.13.8

ll. 14–17 ll. 19–20 (?)c ll. 6–13 ll. 29–35

42.13.6

ll. 17–19

42.11.4–5

ll. 27–8 (allusive)

Marriage to Laodiceg Marriage tie with Prusias IIh Boeotian Treatyi Overtures to Achaeaj Cancelling Aetolian debt/providing military assistance to Aetoliansk Military buildupl Assassination of Arthetaurus and granting asylum to his killersm Assistance to Byzantines contrary to the treatyo Interference in civil strife in Thessaly and Doris

42.12.3–4 42.12.3–4 42.12.5 42.12.6 42.12.6

Cancellation of debts in Thessaly and Perrhaebiap Transfer of Bastarnae south of the Danubeq

42.13.9

ll. 19–25 (allusive) ll. 19–27

42.11.4

ll. 10–12

ll. 19–25 (allusive)

42.12.7 42.12.7–10 ll. 27–9 (?)n 42.13.6 42.13.7

a

Cf. App. Mac. 11.1 (Perseus possessed in Thrace a great base of operations), 2; Diod. Sic. 29.33. Cf. Livy 41.23.13. c This reading (accepted by e.g. Hammond 1988: 501, but not by Goukowsky 2011: 146) was a conjecture by the inscription’s first editors and commentators, Pomtow and Nikitski. Colin rejected the reference to the Dolopes in his 1930 edition of the text of the inscription. Full references: Sherk, RDGE 233. d Cf. Livy 41.23.13–14. e Cf. Livy 42.5.5 (allusive). f Cf. Livy 41.23.9–11, 16; App. Mac. 11.1; Plut. Aem. 8.4–7. g Cf. App. Mac. 11.2. h Cf. App. Mac. 11.2. i Cf. App. Mac. 11.1. j Cf. Livy 42.23.15–16; App. Mac. 11.1 (allusive). k Cf. App. Mac. 11.1; Diod. Sic. 29.33. l Cf. App. Mac. 11.1. m Cf. App. Mac. 11.2; Livy 42.5.5 (allusive). n A conjecture by Colin, but Pomtow and Nikitski saw a reference to Genthius rather than Arthetaurus in this lacuna. As will be seen below, n. 56, there is good reason for rejecting Colin’s proposed reading. o Cf. App. Mac. 11.1. p Cf. App. Mac. 11.1 (here referred to as causing civil strife when they wanted to send embassies to Rome); Diod. Sic. 29.33. q Cf. Livy 41.23.12 b

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Modern scholars have described some or all of these charges as “absurd,” “comic,” “fabricated,”6 “facile,”7 “factitious,”8 “fantastic,”9 “farfetched,”10 “feeble,”11 “flimsy,”12 ludicrous,”13 and “spectacular and patently ridiculous.”14 Most were not even held against Perseus at the time they occurred, but only raked up by his enemies later on, when a case against him was being constructed, and a pattern of hostility going back to the beginning of his reign was being sought. After the war, the argument continues, charges brought by Polybius and his informants, men who had been profoundly and catastrophically affected by the king’s downfall, were tainted by self-interest and retrospective bias. It has been suggested that the proliferation of such charge-sheets, to say nothing of the pilingup of the charges themselves, may in itself be a damning indictment of a fatally weak case.15 None of this is by any means self-evident, however, and the apparent absurdity of the individual charges demands careful scrutiny. Beginning with Abrupolis, the king of the Sapaei and apparently an amicus populi Romani:16 he failed to receive Roman protection against a Macedonian attack in 179, which resulted in his ejection from his kingdom. But, it should be noted, Perseus had not received Roman aid against Abrupolis’ earlier invasion of Macedonia, and his overrunning of the Macedonian mines around Mt. Pangaeum.17 Roman passivity and sluggishness were not malicious or self-interested in either case, of course. It was pattern behavior – especially as concerned fast-moving events taking place far from Rome, or beyond the senate’s immediate concerns.18 This 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

16

17 18

Gruen 1984: 409. Errington 1971: 208. Harris 1979: 228. Gruen 1984: 410. Gruen 1984: 409; Green 1990: 428; Waterfield 2014: 175. Harris 1979: 230. Waterfield 2014: 173. Gruen 1984: 412. Adams 1982: 253. Gruen 1984: 409: “the very quantity of alleged misdeeds undermines their credibility.” Cf. Green 1990: 427: “just how uneasy Rome was about the justice of this war may be determined from [the] Delphic inscription listing Macedonia’s alleged offenses.” Errington 1971: 207; Koukouli-Chrysanthaki 1981: 234 n. 15 are skeptical of Abrupolis’ prior amicus status (contra Bickerman 1953: 506; Meloni 1953: 63–4, 149, 186; Pédech 1964: 134; Mendels 1978: 55 and n. 2 (socius); Harris 1979: 232; Green 1990: 495, citing Diod. Sic. 29.33). Polyb. 22.18.2. Gruen 1984 passim. So, to take only the best known example, Spanish Saguntum’s repeated pleas for Roman protection against Carthaginian aggression in the 220s fell on deaf ears; even after the city was under siege, the Romans were very slow to act. For discussion, see most recently, and with full bibliography, Burton 2011: 238–42.

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is precisely why the informal amicitia tie was so appealing to the Romans (and their international partners too, of course): its obligations were loose and ill-defined, which allowed for a broad range of responses to calls for help, including complete indifference.19 For their part, both Perseus and Abrupolis may have been in breach of, if not the letter of amicitia (there were no such rules), then its spirit, summed up in the term fides; the Romans, after all, preferred their international amici to settle their differences peaceably rather than fight each other.20 But the evidence for Roman passivity as their friends repeatedly went to war with each other, and Roman acquiescence in the faits accomplis emerging from those conflicts, is overwhelming.21 So in this case too. After Perseus’ expulsion of Abrupolis from his kingdom, the Romans renewed their amicitia with Macedon without mentioning the war at all. Later, when the Abrupolis affair was held against him, Perseus tried to defend himself citing the Romans’ earlier indifference – to no avail.22 Timing, chronology, and history itself were apparently powerless in the face of the inherent flexibility of amicitia.23 Polybius was thus perhaps right to identify Perseus’ expulsion of Abrupolis from his kingdom as a pretext (prophasis) – a stated reason for going to war. But he certainly did not intend his readers to think Perseus was innocent on this score, and the Romans rank hypocrites. Nor did the Romans think that 19

20

21

22

23

See now Burton 2011: 162, 163, 185, 265–6, and passim. Treaties, which typically mandated mutual support during times of danger, where possible, were inherently less flexible – if one party under attack insisted upon the activation of the mutual assistance clause, which was not always the case. A principle established e.g. in Ptolemy V’s embassy to Rome in early 200, seeking to know whether he, a Roman amicus, could provide help to Athens, another Roman amicus, against Philip V, still a Roman amicus; the senate requested that he not do so (Livy 31.9.1–4, with Burton 2011: 208–9). On the informal nature of amicitia, governed only by the spirit of fides, see Burton 2011: 38–45. E.g. the Achaean League’s conquest of the entire Peloponnese in the 190s and 180s; when the Messenians complained of the League’s attack on them to Flamininus, and surrendered to his discretion, he simply ordered them to join the League. Discussion of this and several other cases: Burton 2011: 209–23). App. Mac. 11.6, based on Polybian material (above, Chapter 4, n. 74). Livy, for patriotic reasons, omits this argument from his version of Perseus’ defence (Livy 42.41.10–12), stressing instead Perseus’ sovereign right to defend his kingdom. Despite the assertion of Eumenes (Livy 42.13.8), the Roman envoys to Perseus in mid-172 (Livy 42.25.4), and Marcius (Livy 42.40.6), Philip’s treaty with Rome in 196 did not forbid the king from waging war outside Macedonia without the senate’s permission. That clause, at Livy 33.30.6, is a spurious addition to Polybius’ list of the treaty’s terms (at 18.44; cf. 18.47). Discussion: Täubler 1913: 230; De Sanctis 1923: 95–6 n. 185, 246 n. 27; Meloni 1953:  73, 189 and n.  2; Mastrocinque 1975/6:  36; Briscoe 1973:  7, 306 (with previous scholarship there cited) and 2012: 13, 197, 290–1; Goukowsky 2011: 145 and n. 113. It should also be noted that the anti-Macedonian speech of Callicrates at Livy 41.23, based on Polybian material (below, n. 74), makes no mention of the ban on Macedonian warfare beyond the kingdom. A good parallel here is the Romans’ making an issue of the Achaean League’s treatment of Sparta in the run-up to the Achaean War – thirty-five years after acquiescing in Sparta’s forcible incorporation into the League, and washing their hands of the situation (Burton 2011: 347–8, with references).

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they would be so regarded by anyone except the Macedonians, or else they would never have added the Abrupolis incident to the list of Perseus’ delicts. After all, in the noua sapientia debate that followed Marcius’ return from Macedon, to be discussed shortly, the sharp practice that the older senators criticized was the use of deception in diplomatic negotiations, not hypocrisy or the invention of flimsy pretexts. I am not suggesting that modern scholars are wrong to call Rome’s use of the expulsion of Abrupolis from his kingdom “facile” or “absurd”; merely that this modern, cynical view may be at odds with ancient perceptions of amicitia and its obligations. The validity of the next charge, Perseus’ campaign against the Dolopians in 174, is somewhat more complicated. When Marcius, following Eumenes’ lead, raised the matter with Perseus in 172, the Macedonian king defended himself on the grounds that the Romans had placed the Dolopians under Macedonian sway during his father’s reign, and the Dolopians had murdered the Macedonian governor of the region in 174.24 The Dolopians probably came under Macedonian sway in the late third century.25 They were removed from Macedonian control in 196 as part of the settlement in the Second Macedonian War, but returned to Philip by the Romans in 188 in gratitude for the king’s help in the Aetolian War.26 As has been seen, however, the senatorial commission of 185 confined “Macedonia to its ancient boundaries” (antiquis Macedoniae terminis).27 Were the Dolopians included in or excluded from the “ancient boundaries”? The answer is by no means clear, but Macedonian control over Dolopia could just be considered ancient by 185 if it had been incorporated into the kingdom in 210 or 207.28 On the other hand, “the ancient boundaries of Macedonia” could just as easily refer to the kingdom as it stood under Philip II, the immediate successors of Alexander the Great, in the time of Alexander I, or indeed even earlier. Alternatively, because the Dolopians were usually thought of as ethnic Thessalians, or at least certainly not Macedonians, by antiquis Macedoniae terminis, the commissioners may have been referring to an ethnic restriction; that is, Philip was allowed to control only 24

25 26 27

28

Livy 42.13.8 (Eumenes raises the matter), 40.8 (Marcius raises it with Perseus), 41.13 (Perseus’ response); cf. App. Mac. 11.6 (who adds the detail about the murder of Perseus’ governor). 210 or 207 (Walbank 1967: 617). Polyb. 18.47.6. Livy 39.26.14; cf. Diod. Sic. 29.16, and above, Chapter 3, pp. 45–6. Errington 1971: 204 (cf. Adams 1982: 239) conflates the text of the commissioners’ decree with the terms of the treaty of 196 (“the exact status of Dolopia may not have been precisely defined in the treaty with Rome which confined Macedon to her ‘traditional boundaries’ ”). Cf. Livy 34.31.5, where Nabis could characterize Sparta’s amicitia with Rome, established between 210 and 207, as a uetustissima foedus in 195.

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the ancestral lands of the Macedones, located within the four merides of Macedonia – the areas around Amphipolis, Amphaxitis, Bottia, and Upper Macedonia.29 In the end, probably none of this matters. As has been noted, the commissioners were being deliberately vague when they restricted the Macedonian kingdom to its ancient boundaries in 185. In 174, moreover, when the invasion of Dolopia occurred, the Romans issued no objection to Perseus’ activity, nor did they object when Perseus refused the Dolopian request to refer their dispute to Rome.30 The presence of a Macedonian governor in Dolopia in 174, and presumably since 188, when the region was returned to Philip, was apparently not a problem either; so far as is known, it was never mentioned after the “ancient boundaries” ruling of 185. But after Eumenes raised the matter in the senate in 172, it figured repeatedly in the list of charges against the king, including, perhaps, the official justification for war as found in the Delphic charge-sheet inscription. Perseus was probably justified in arguing that the Dolopians were his subjects. So, too, was Polybius in labeling Perseus’ attack on the Dolopians a Roman pretext for war, rather than a cause.31 As in the case of the expulsion of Abrupolis, however, it is Rome’s amicitia with Macedon that was the decisive factor in prompting the Romans to add the Dolopian invasion to their indictment. As has been demonstrated elsewhere, amicitia both giveth and taketh away:  those in possession of rewards or gifts for prior services to Rome – whether these were grants of territory or even political freedom – enjoyed only precarious tenure. The Romans decided when and under what circumstances to “de-gift” friends they regarded as having betrayed trust, or being perceived to have done so, by doing something, or being perceived to have done something, contrary to Roman interests.32 Only a few years before, in retaliation for aiding Perseus in his nuptials, the Romans tried to deprive the Rhodians of their sovereignty over their Lycian subjects, granted them by Rome in 188 in recognition of their assistance in Rome’s war against Antiochus III.33 In 29 30 31

32

33

See below, Chapter 7, pp. 173–4. Livy 41.22.4 (cf. 24.8), 23.13. Bickermann 1953: 89–90; Errington 1971: 20; Harris 1979: 228 n. 4 are hesitant to accept that Perseus was completely in the right. Cf. Bickermann 1953: 490: “selon les principes et la pratique constante des Romains, une parcelle de leur empire ne pouvait être cédée à un tiers seulement qu’en usufruit et seulement à titre précaire” (perhaps too legalistic). Livy 41.6.8–12 (see below, p. 97). On the Romans “de-gifting” many cities and peoples of their freedom, which had been granted them by Rome in the Isthmian Declaration of 196, see Burton 2011: 227.

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time, and for a perceived betrayal of Rome, Rhodes would be deprived of its empire in Lycia and Caria altogether, as well as its port duties when Rome diverted Aegean trade through Delos, once it was declared a free port under Athenian sovereignty.34 As in the case of Abrupolis, the Romans would not have added Perseus’ Dolopian campaign to its list of charges unless they felt they had a moral, as opposed to a legal, leg to stand on. They had no interest in making themselves look ridiculous. Where modern, post-Christian, western conventional morality might see hypocrisy, and what used to be called, in accordance with acceptable moral conventions of an earlier day, “Indian-giving,” ancient Mediterranean people may have viewed things differently. In the moral economy of international relations in antiquity, where the prime imperative was to help friends and harm enemies,35 Roman behavior in this case may have seemed eminently justifiable – indeed, expected – once they became convinced of Perseus’ hostility. The next charge on the list is Perseus’ trip to Delphi in 174, which he undertook immediately after subduing the Dolopians, accompanied by the army he used to conquer them. Livy says that Perseus “struck great terror into the neighboring cities,”36 but was scrupulously careful “not to do any damage or injury to the people through whose territory he marched,”37 as even his enemy Callicrates later could not deny.38 Eumenes later raised the stakes, alleging before the senate that Perseus had traversed Thessaly and Doris in order to aid the worse side and attack the better in their civil wars.39 Marcius embellished further before Perseus himself, claiming that the king “had come with his army through Thessaly and Malis to Delphi contrary to the treaty.”40 Perseus defended himself on the ground that his 34 35 36 37 38

39 40

See now Burton 2011: 289–91. Blundell 1999. Finitimis … urbibus terrorem praebuit (Livy 41.22.5). Sine damno iniuriaque eorum, per quorum fines iter fecit (Livy 41.22.6). Thessaliam deinde peragrauit … sine ullius eorum quos oderat noxa (“Then he travelled through Thessaly … without doing harm to anyone of those he hates”; Livy 41.23.14). On Perseus’ marching route, see below. Livy 42.13.8. Per Thessaliam et Maliensem agrum cum exercitu contra foedus Delphos isti (Livy 42.40.6). Note that the Delphic charge-sheet inscription does not say Perseus’ trip was contrary to the treaty (παρὰ τὰς συνθήκας, uel sim.), but “inappropriate” (παρὰ τὸ καθῆκον: RDGE 40 l. 7) – a moral, rather than a juridical distinction. See Goukowsky 2011: 141 n. 86, 145. An annalistic source added the accusation that Perseus captured a number of Thessalian cities (Thessaliae aliquot urbes captas: Livy 42.36.4), but this detail is missing from the Polybian doublet at Livy 42.48.1–4 (on which, see Appendix B). It is best discarded (cf. Meloni 1953: 208; Mendels 1978: 55 n. 6; Gruen 1984: 417 n. 103; Briscoe 2012: 269; Goukowsky 2011: 138–9 n. 137, who believes it is an anticipation of Perseus’ initial moves once the war broke out).

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soldiers had done no harm to anyone on the march around the Malian Gulf via Larisa Cremaste, Antron, and Pteleum, and challenged Marcius to call a conference of the Greeks through whose territory he marched, and challenge them all to claim otherwise.41 Again, because the Romans made no complaint about Perseus’ journey in 174, and it only became an issue after Eumenes’ visit in 172, Polybius is perhaps right to label this charge a pretext rather than a cause of the war. A few questions remain, however. Was Marcius correct in claiming that by traversing Thessalian and Malian territory, Perseus was in breach of the treaty? As was seen earlier, by the terms of the Roman settlement after the Aetolian War, Philip had been allowed to keep the Magnesian coastline of Thessaly, including Demetrias, as well as several towns around the Malian Gulf,42 and these lay, precisely, on the indirect route Perseus scrupulously followed on his way to Delphi. But, like the Macedonian claim on Dolopia, this was complicated by the Roman commissioners’ decree of 185 that Macedon should be confined to its ancient boundaries. And, if the decree was intended to deprive Philip of more than just Aenus and Maronea (the main bones of contention the commission of 185 was meant to resolve), then Thessaly had even less claim than Dolopia to be within Macedonia’s ancient boundaries. It may also be significant that, unlike his defense of his actions involving Abrupolis and the Dolopians, Perseus did not defend his trip to Delphi under arms on the ground that it was not forbidden by the treaty, but because his army had done no harm. This may have been a tacit admission that he knew he had no legal leg to stand on in this case – what amounted to a Macedonian military invasion, albeit a peaceful one, of a foreign land. The result is that modern scholars have taken Perseus’ trip to Delphi a bit more seriously than Polybius’ other two pretexts, the expulsion of Abrupolis and the attack on the Dolopians. And for good reason. The king’s journey deep into central Greece with an army of perhaps 43,000 men,43 while perhaps not technically contrary to the treaty (but complicated by the commissioners’ decree of 185), was certainly provocative to those predisposed to suspect the worst of Perseus, and to put the worst possible 41 42 43

Livy 42.42.1–3. Above, Chapter 3, p. 40. Livy 42.51.11 (the figure). Admittedly this was the size of the Macedonian army in 171, but even if it had not reached this size in 174, it must have been large enough to cause “great terror” (magnum … terrorem:  Livy 41.22.5) when it suddenly appeared in central Greece. This was the same army that had just subdued all of Dolopia (41.22.4), and so is not likely to have been a minor expeditionary force.

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construction on his desire to extend his influence over the Greeks.44 Such a one was Eumenes, to whom the terrified cities of central Greece sent embassies when Perseus passed through with his army. The now unpopular Pergamene king regarded Perseus’ action as hostile towards himself, but would later spin it as being directed against Roman influence in Greece.45 The next item on the charge-sheet – the attempted murder of Eumenes at Dephi – was not, of course, mentioned by Eumenes in his meeting with the senators because it occurred on his return journey from Rome to Pergamum. It is hard to know whether to credit this story, in whole or in part. It does seem a bit far-fetched since it depends on the idea that “Perseus now even wished for war, thinking he was at the height of his power,” as Livy says in the context of Eumenes’ visit to Rome in late 173/ early 172,46 which contrasts so sharply with almost everything Perseus himself said and did during the run-up to the Third Macedonian War, and even after it had begun, which indicated that the king wanted to avoid war, not bring it on.47 Most scholars who have dealt with the story believe that what was probably a perfectly natural and easily explained event (a rockslide) may have been worked up in retrospect as an assassination attempt, and an additional charge against Perseus.48 Some scholars, however, seem reluctant to dispense with the story as it stands.49 The appearance of specific and detailed information, such as the name of the woman, Praxo, at whose house in Delphi the would-be assassins stayed, and of the Cretan mercenary captain and leader of the mission to kill Eumenes, Evander, lends an air of authenticity, as does Valerius Laevinus’ introduction into the senate of Praxo, as well as Rammius of Brundisium. On the other hand, as Peter Green notes, “The specificity of the charges … does not per se validate them.”50 It is also strange that the

44 45

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Errington 1971: 204–5. On Eumenes’ lack of popularity, see Livy 42.5.1–6. On the significance of the choice of Eumenes rather than Rome as a source of help, see below, pp. 121–2. [Perseus] iam etiam [bellum] uolebat, in flore uirium se credens esse (Livy 42.15.2). Harris 1979: 230; Adams 1982: 255; Gruen 1984: 416–17; Errington 1990: 214; Green 1990: 428. As we will soon see (below, Chapter 6, p. 132), after defeating Rome at Callicinus, Perseus offered to negotiate on humiliating terms, as though he had lost the battle. Bickermann 1953: 499; Errington 1971: 208; Gruen 1984: 409; Hammond 1988: 499 and n. 1; Green 1990: 427; Briscoe 2012: 202–3. Pais 1926: 556; Benecke 1930: 258; Hansen 1971: 110; Walbank 1979: 207; Adams 1982: 252–3. Meloni 1953: 164 (following Benecke 1930: 259; De Sanctis 1923: 274) accepts that it was an assassination attempt, but that Perseus had nothing to do with it; the assassin was most likely a fanatical antiPergamene nationalist. Similarly Heiland 1913:  32–3, who adds that Eumenes may have stagemanaged the entire thing. Green 1990: 841 n. 132.

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senate apparently did not order Praxo to produce Perseus’ letter to her asking her to house Evander and his team of assassins. Stranger still is the idea that Perseus would have committed such matters to writing. As Green says, all this was “scraping the bottom of the barrel with a vengeance” in the search for charges – any charges – that could be used against the king.51 The circumstantial details may indeed have been grafted on to the story of the rock-slide at Delphi precisely in order to lend verisimilitude to the claim by Perseus’ enemies that the king was behind it. But it should be remembered that Polybius, who was closer in time and place to these events than us, chose to believe the story, not making it a cause of the war, to be sure, but part of its beginning. It was also convincing to enough senators to earn it a place on the Delphic charge-sheet inscription. These same senators certainly did not intend themselves to be thought of as credulous dupes of Eumenes by endorsing, in so public and prominent a fashion, the story of Perseus’ assassination attempt on Eumenes. An attack on Eumenes by paid assassins of Perseus, while not beyond the realm of possibility, was not terribly likely. It was believable enough to many intelligent people at the time, however, or at least they so alleged. The other beginning Polybius identifies  – the killing of the Boeotian envoys Eversa and Callicritus – is perhaps best discussed in conjunction with the other assassination in the charge-sheet, that of Arthetaurus the Illyrian. Eumenes alleged that the Boeotian envoys were killed for speaking out against Perseus in the Boeotian council, and vowing to report the king’s activities to the senate, while Arthetaurus, a friend and ally of Rome, was assassinated for corresponding with the Romans, presumably about Perseus’ activities.52 In his later parley with the king, Marcius merely insinuated that Perseus arranged for the murder of Arthetaurus, and added that the king hosted his murderers.53 He was similarly coy about the identity of the Boeotians’ killer, saying “I prefer to inquire as to who killed them rather than to make an accusation.”54 Perseus shrewdly used Marcius’ coyness against him, saying that everyone knew that the Boeotians died by shipwreck, and, since Marcius did not accuse him of plotting the assassination of Arthetaurus, he would answer only to the charge of harboring his assassins. Perseus pointed out that granting asylum to exiles charged with crimes of this nature was common to all nations, including Rome. He also 51 52 53 54

Green 1990: 427. Livy 42.13.6–7. Livy 42.40.5. Quaerere malo quis interfecerit quam arguere (Livy 42.40.7).

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revealed that when the Romans told him Arthetaurus’ assassins were in Macedonia, he caught them, ejected them from his kingdom, and placed a ban on them returning there.55 Unfortunately, we have no way of verifying this last claim, but the fact that Polybius does not list the assassination of Arthetaurus among either the pretexts or the beginnings of the war – and most certainly will not have considered it a cause, about which he is certain (see below) – probably means that we need not take it seriously either. Marcius’ reluctance to accuse Perseus outright of being behind the assassination of Arthetaurus, a friend and ally of the Roman people, is a particularly damning indictment of the validity of the charge. The contrast with the Roman condemnation of Perseus’ expulsion of Abrupolis, another friend and ally of the Roman people, cannot be starker.56 The assassination of the Boeotian envoys raises the issue of the deepening factionalism within the Greek states in this period, and it is perhaps best to deal with the charges relevant to the issue as a group. Perseus was accused of interfering in the internal politics of several Greek states  – Boeotia, Aetolia, Achaea, Thessaly, Doris, Perrhaebia, and Byzantium, most, if not all, roiled by civil strife between, to a lesser or greater degree, creditors and debtors, and pro-Roman and pro-Macedonian factions.57 Marcius alleged before the king that his military aid to Byzantium was contra foedus,58 and that his “separate alliance [with Boeotia] was not permitted.”59 But Marcius is again evasive about making Perseus himself responsible for the slaughter of the confederacy’s principes, instead asking, “who, aside from your men, can seem to have done this?”60 Further, he does not even mention the king’s attempt to reach an accommodation with Achaea, 55 56

57

58

59

60

Livy 42.41.5–8. This inclines me to disagree with Colin’s conjecture that the plot against Arthetaurus should be restored to ll. 27–9 in RDGE 40. See above, note n in the table. As will be seen shortly, it is not necessary to equate the parties of the poor with the pro-Macedonians or the parties of the rich with the pro-Romans. Livy 42.40.6. I agree with Meloni 1953: 148 that the appearance of Macedonian troops in Asia Minor, while not legally problematic (i.e. contrary to any treaty), was certainly a cause for concern to some living there. The last time a Macedonian army was there was when Philip V rampaged through between 204 and 200. Secretam … societatem quam non licebat (Livy 42.40.6, with Briscoe 2012: 286 on the meaning of secretam here). Frank 1914: 203 accepts Marcius’ allegation that the alliance was forbidden; contra Briscoe 2012: 287: “nothing in the peace treaty of 196 forbad the making of such an alliance; if it had, Philip V would not have sought to do so,” referencing that king’s attempt to establish amicitia with the Boeotians related at Livy 42.12.5. Philip would have at least queried such a ban had it existed, and we would have heard about it, if not among the fragments of Polybius’ book 18, then at least in Livy’s fully extant narrative. Per quos, nisi per tuos, factae uideri possunt? (Livy 40.20.7), with Gruen 1976:  36:  “hardly a firm conviction.”

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his interference in civil strife in Thessaly and Doris, or his cancellation of debts in Aetolia, Thessaly, and Perrhaebia  – all on Eumenes’ chargesheet. Again, these evasions reveal the weakness of Marcius’ case. Perseus’ response, if true, seems reasonable: military aid to Aetolia and Byzantium, to say nothing of amicitia with Boeotia, were all declared and defended before the senate in Rome at the time they occurred.61 Again, verification of this claim is not available in either Livy’s or Polybius’ fragmentary narrative. Nevertheless, Polybius’ silence on the charges examined here, combined with Marcius’ evasiveness, suggests they are not to be taken very seriously. In addition, the alleged treaty violations – aiding Byzantium and the amicitia with Boeotia  – apparently did not appear on the Delphic charge-sheet inscription. The remaining charges – Perseus’ marriage alliances with the Bithynian and Seleucid royal houses, his military buildup in Macedon, and his inheritance of his father’s war-plans (including the population transfer of the Bastarnae)  – are best left until the next section since they are so intimately bound up with more complex theories of the causes of the Third Macedonian War discussed there that extensive anticipatory discussion here would be unduly tedious. It will be appropriate to round out the present discussion of the specific charges with a few observations. Some of the items in the indictment, closely analyzed within their proper ancient context, appear not to be as ridiculous as most modern scholars allege them to be. The Romans would not have raised them publicly if they thought they would be mocked for doing so. The validity of some of these charges, moreover, emerges from the dynamics of the amicitia bond, which governed the Roman–Macedonian relationship. Some of the less plausible charges (the assassination of Arthetaurus and the Boeotian envoys) are those Marcius could only raise in a roundabout way with Perseus, and that concerning Arthetaurus fails to appear in Polybius or (likely) on the Delphic charge-sheet inscription. The truly baseless charges may be identified as those Marcius refused to reiterate from Eumenes’ list of accusations before Perseus himself, those that are missing from Polybius’ discussion of the causes, pretexts, and beginnings of the war, and several of those missing from the Delphic inscription; in this category belongs the notion that Perseus’ military buildup and marriage alliances were directed against Rome. Finally, the outright ridiculous charges that appear in the narrative tradition of the run-up to the war fail to appear on the charge-sheets at all; thus Massinissa’s report that Carthage and Perseus had exchanged 61

Livy 42.42.3–4. App. Mac. 11.1 inflates the amicitia with Boeotia into military assistance.

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embassies with sinister, anti-Roman intent. Such an exchange, assuming Massinissa was telling the truth, was not in breach of Roman amicitia, since, as has been seen, both Carthage and Macedon were Roman amici.62

Complex Causation (i) Defensive/Preemptive Theories As was seen in Chapter  3, Polybius’ thesis that Philip V, his house, and his kingdom were destroyed by divine Fortune in revenge for the crimes and sacrileges of his early career has been branded inadequate as historical analysis  – if it can be so characterized at all. But what of the corollary embedded within this scheme, that Philip spent the last part of his life secretly planning a war of revenge against Rome, the preparations for which Perseus inherited upon his succession? In his analysis of the causes of the war, Polybius forcefully, unapologetically, and without embarrassment proclaims: Just as I said that Philip, son of Amyntas, conceived and intended to bring to completion the war against the Persians, and that Alexander took up what his father had decided and became the executor of the design, so now too I say that Philip, son of Demetrius, first took the notion to fight the last war against the Romans and held in readiness everything necessary for the assault, but when Philip died, Perseus became the executor of the design. If these things are true, the other is also clear. For it is impossible that the causes came into existence after the death of the man who decided upon the war and planned it.63

This is the one element Polybius plucked from the speech of Eumenes, and elevated to the level of the single (most important?) cause, aitia, of the Third Macedonian War.64 As a consequence, it pervades all the extant

62

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Livy 41.22.1-3, and above, Chapter 4, p. 65. Gruen 1984: 407 wonders why this charge is omitted from the indictments. Meloni 1953: 127–9 assumes the exchange of embassies is an invention, either of an annalist or of Massinissa, since it would have been regarded as overt anti-Roman behavior at a time when Perseus was scrupulously trying not to provoke Rome, thus forgetting the fact that Rome, Carthage, and Perseus were all amici at the time. If the story is true, Waterfield 2014: 167 may be right that it was “a probably innocent exchange of diplomatic courtesies.” Polyb. 22.18.10–11. The thesis recurs consistently throughout the extant sources (Polyb. 22.14.7–8; 23.10.4; Livy 36.25.5–8; 39.23.5, 8–10, 24.1, 29.3, 35.2; 40.16.3, 21.2, 57.2, 6–9 (cf. Just. Epit. 32.3.5; Trog. Prol. 32); 41.23.9; 42.52.3, 7; Plut. Aem. 8.4, 6; App. Mac. 9.6; Zon. 9.21.5). On the relationship between Polyb. 22.18 and Livy 39.23.5–29.3, see Werner 1977. itaque Persea hereditarium a patre relictum bellum (“and so the war has been left to Perseus as an inheritance by his father”; Livy 42.11.5). Actually, if Livy is to be trusted, Callicrates was the first to

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ancient accounts of the run-up to the war. But the schematicism of the first part of Polybius’ statement, while clearly appealing on the level of literary symmetry – and to Polybius personally (after all, his pet theory about the Hannibalic war was that it had been conceived and planned by Hamilcar, and inherited by his son Hannibal) – has been condemned, like Polybius’ notion that Philip was punished by the divine for his crimes, as rather less than satisfying as historical analysis.65 In fact, the theory that Philip secretly planned, and Perseus inherited a war of revenge on Rome is unanimously rejected by scholars, either tacitly or overtly. As was seen at the end of Chapter 3, Philip may have occasionally tested the limits of his independence within his unequal relationship with Rome, for example by refusing to comply with Roman orders to evacuate Aenus and Maronea for two entire years, and massacring a portion of the Maroneans before finally doing so. But such behavior cannot on its own prove plans for a war of revenge. In the absence of actual evidence for Philip’s war-plans, the ancient sources report that Philip complied with Roman orders in order to avoid giving the appearance of hostility, so he could continue carrying out his war preparations in secret.66 Absence of evidence for the plot thus becomes evidence for it. Marcius Philippus also alleged before the senate in 183 that Philip would take the first opportunity to act against Rome, which seems at odds with his earlier statement that Philip had complied with Rome’s orders to evacuate Aenus and Maronea.67 Despite Philippus’ warning, there is no evidence that a majority of senators ever felt threatened by Philip after 196. What vexed them most was the constant trooping of ambassadors from the Greek world to Rome in order to subject them to lengthy speeches that simply dredged up the same old issues again and again. The patres tried to stem this flow, as was noted earlier, by asking Philip (and later, Perseus) to avoid giving the appearance of being hostile toward Rome, that is, to avoid giving even the hint of a pretext for Rome’s allies to send more embassies of complaint to the senate.68 Perseus, it seems, was even more careful than his father to do or say nothing overtly hostile against the Romans, complying with each and

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publicize the thesis in 175/4: below, pp. 94–6. Note that in the official Roman declaration of war, the war-plans are attributed to Perseus, not Philip (Livy 42.30.10). Eckstein 2010: 239 and n. 63, and 2013: 88; cf. Werner 1977: 157–8. On the divine punishment of Philip, see above, Chapter 3, pp. 47–8. Polyb. 23.8.2; cf. Livy 39.53.11–12; App. Mac. 9.6; Zon. 9.21. Polyb. 23.9.6–7; cf. Livy 40.3.1–2. Polyb. 23.9.7, with Gruen 1974:  238, and above, Chapter  4, n. 42, for the comparison with the response to Perseus. Waterfield’s paraphrase of the senate’s response to Philip – “not even the appearance of disobedience would be tolerated” (2014: 160) – distorts its meaning.

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every Roman request right down to the eve of the Third Macedonian War, and scrupulously avoiding giving the Romans even the slimmest plausible pretext for declaring war. So, as was seen earlier, when he traveled to Delphi in 174, he took a roundabout route, through what he construed as his own territory, and during the period of the “truce” in 172, he told the pro-Macedonian Boeotians that he could do nothing to help them during the truce, and advised them not to harm the Romans. As will be seen later, even after the war began, following the Macedonian victory at Callicinus, Perseus acted as though he lost the battle, suing for peace on terms worse than those imposed in 196 on his father, who had actually been soundly defeated by Rome at Cynoscephalae. Polybius’ worst-case construction of Philip’s and Perseus’ actions and motivations in these years was no doubt retrospective, conceived shortly after Perseus’ defeat by Rome and the destruction of the Macedonian monarchy in 168–167. Polybius himself was obviously in no position to verify any of it; he was a mere teenager in Megalopolis when events unfolded behind the closed palace doors at Pella in the 180s. Nor did he have access to Philip’s private thoughts and secret plans. So where did the Polybian thesis come from? Scholars suppose that his informants were highly placed Macedonians at the courts of Philip and Perseus, some of whom were eventually exiled to Italy, along with Polybius himself.69 Polybius was no doubt impressed by their former closeness to the kings and access to their innermost thoughts and plans; he placed a high value on such eyewitness evidence.70 He must have known, however, that these men were highly motivated to distance themselves from the last two kings of Macedon by putting the worst possible construction on their actions, and attributing to them private plans and conversations that would exonerate Rome for going to war against Perseus. Like Polybius himself and the other Achaean detainees, the Macedonian exiles probably worked hard throughout the 160s and 150s to convince the Roman authorities to allow them to return to their homeland and families.71 They therefore had a vested interest in distancing themselves from the deeds and policies of Rome’s recent enemy Perseus and his father – especially when talking to Polybius, who had unique access to members of the Roman senatorial aristocracy.72 69

70 71

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Livy 45.32.3–7. For Polybius’ consultation with the Friends of Perseus, see Polyb. 29.8.10 (explicit). For the scholarship, see below, n. 72. Cf. Polyb. 4.2.2–3; 12.4c.2–5, 25g.4, 28a.7, etc. Cf. Polyb. 32.3.14–17; 33.1.3–8, 3, 7.14; 35.6; Paus. 7.10.11–12 (embassies seeking the repatriation of the Achaean hostages). These arguments are refinements of Walbank 1938:  65 and 1957:  33–4; Meloni 1953:  41; Gruen 1974: 224–5; Harris 1979: 227–8.

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If Polybius corrected for the potential biases of his Macedonian eyewitnesses, as he surely must have done as a highly self-conscious critical historian, he must have also convinced himself that what they were telling him approximated the truth. It was, of course, not unbelievable that Philip may well have resented the Romans, perhaps as early as 191, when he was ordered to call off the siege of Lamia, and particularly after 186/5, when the ten commissioners began to stymie his projects, reduce his realm, and embarrass him on the world stage. For a proud and restless Hellenistic monarch, plotting a war of revenge would be an appropriate response – and certainly understandable to Polybius. It is also just conceivable that this resentment was handed down to Perseus, which was made all the more credible to Polybius by the apparent antagonism between him and his brother Demetrius, to say nothing of the indisputable fact of the latter’s execution. This is not to say that what Polybius’ Macedonian informants told him is to be accepted in all its particulars; merely that the historian deemed what they said to be sufficiently plausible in explaining the known facts of the last years of Philip’s reign.73 Consider this, as well. Polybius’ theory was shared by Callicrates of Leontium, whom Polybius despised not only for his political views, but because he was personally responsible for Polybius’ own downfall and exile. If Livy is to be trusted, Callicrates was the first to suggest publicly, at an Achaean League council meeting in 175/4, that Philip had been planning a war against Rome before he died.74 This could suggest one of two possibilities. First, Polybius could not possibly blame Perseus (who had always been conciliatory and inclined to peace) or the senate (perforce, given Polybius’ position as a hostage) for starting the war, so he fixed on Philip, and amplified the implausible and no doubt fictional notion that that king had planned the war from the start.75 The second possibility is

73

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On Polybius’ plausibility test, see Polyb. 12.7.4 (in the absence of the true facts, plausibility must suffice, and of two historians aiming at plausibility, the account of the one who is elsewhere guilty of overt bias will be less plausible). Livy 41.23.9. Callicrates’ speech may be based on Polybian material (Mendels 1978: 66 n. 58; Goukowsky 2011: 142; Briscoe 2012: 120–1) – indeed, Polybius may even have been present at the meeting where it was delivered. But, as Briscoe warns, Livy altered his source material as he saw fit, and so may well have inserted the charge that Philip planned a war against Rome. We need not go so far as Meloni 1953: 137 n. 1, 138, who argues that Livy may have invented the entire speech, since Polybius would never have credited his mortal enemy Callicrates with giving good, pragmatic advice that was ultimately vindicated by its success. This gives too little credit to Polybius as a conscientious historian. For the idea that Polybius suppressed his true beliefs for fear of enraging his Roman masters, see Harris 1979: 227–8.

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that Polybius really believed in Philip’s secret preparations, to such a degree that he was willing to hold his nose and side with his nemesis Callicrates, and also with Eumenes, whose conduct during the war he condemns as foolish, grasping, and most wicked.76 The second possibility may lend support to “the wrath of Philip, as inherited by Perseus” thesis. Polybius must have had good historical grounds, beyond mere congeniality to his own literary pretensions and pet theories about the origins of wars, to associate himself with the allegations made by such shady characters as Callicrates and Eumenes. In other words, his research into the allegations about Philip’s secret war-plans made by Callicrates and Eumenes, as well as by the Macedonian exiles in Italy after the war, when set against the known facts, at least satisfied the historian’s plausibility test, though perhaps falling just short of being able to be established as hard fact. We can go further. So confident must Polybius have been in his thesis that he included a speech in response to Callicrates’ by the Achaean politician Archon of Ageira, future colleague of Polybius in the stratēgia of the Achaean League for 170/69, protégé of Philopoemen, a man Polybius revered, and political ally of Polybius’ father Lycortas.77 His speech contained the devastating reply to the Polybian theory: we have no idea what Philip would have done had he lived; we can only judge Philip’s, and Perseus’, plans and states of mind by what takes place in plain sight, that is, by their actions.78 No historian could have put it better. It is also, incidentally, testimony to Polybius’ historical integrity that he included the speech of Archon at all, a man congenial to him politically, but whose words on this occasion were so uncongenial to his thesis. This tends to undermine the first possible explanation, noted above, for Polybius’ adoption of the idea that Philip planned the war – that he willfully or under duress distorted the historical record to absolve the Romans from appearing to be the instigators of the war. If he were so comfortable with playing fast and loose with the truth, why include Archon’s speech at all, which only tended to undermine his thesis? He did so in the interest of preserving the historical record, and because he believed his thesis was sufficiently resilient to sustain the challenge represented by Archon’s words. In other words, after careful research according to self-imposed historiographical principles, 76

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Polyb. 29.8.2 (πανουργοτάτου, “most wicked”), 8 (πανουργίᾳ, “wickedness”), 9 (φιλαργυρίας, “grasping”), 10 (κακίας, φιλαργυρία, “wickedness,” “grasping”), 9.2 (ἄγνοιαν ἀμφοτέρων τῶν βασιλέων, “foolishness of both kings”), 11 (ἐκφανοῦς ἀλογιστίας, φιλαργυρία, “blind foolishness,” “greed”). For discussion, see now Burton 2011: 292–9. Polyb. 22.10.8; cf. Deininger 1971: 177–84. Livy 41.24.5.

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Polybius became convinced that the idea that Philip planned the war was sufficiently historically plausible to account for why the war ultimately broke out. It was not simply a preference based on personal bias. We need not agree with Polybius, however. His thesis makes the anger and aggression of Philip, not Perseus, the main cause of the Third Macedonian War. Polybius apparently did not credit Perseus, whose attempted execution of his father’s plans ended in catastrophe, with the native ability or organizational skills to pull it off. With the exception of his positive description of Perseus at the outset of his reign,79 Polybius’ view of the king is almost entirely negative. At one point, he describes him as “far inferior to his brother Demetrius not only in terms of his good will towards Rome, but also in terms of everything else due to his nature and native ability.”80 Plutarch, reflecting the same tradition, describes the king as not being up to the task given him because of his meanness of character, incapacity, and especially his avariciousness.81 Mommsen largely followed Polybius in this, making the cause of the war Perseus’ flawed character: he lacked the kingly qualities of geniality and vigor; he pursued his goals tirelessly and persistently, but when the time came to act, he shrank from the grandeur of his own vision; his smallness of spirit caused him to stockpile resources for the war against Rome, but when the Romans were in his lands, he could not be separated from his money; “a dime-a-dozen king,” Perseus was not the man to restore the fortunes of the Antigonid house, a task a better man might have found inspiring.82 It is now time to confront the necessary corollary of Polybius’ thesis: did the Romans have good reason to mistrust or fear Perseus, who, as a dutiful son, was committed to carrying out his father’s designs? We may safely leave aside Perseus’ alleged ineptitude and character flaws, as most scholars now do.83 All agree that the senate mistrusted Perseus; the only thing at issue is when this mistrust began.84 Some argue that it began as early 79 80

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Polyb. 25.3.4–8. See above, Chapter 4, p. 59. ὁ δὲ Περσεύς, οὐ μόνον ἐν τῇ πρὸς Ῥωμαίους εὐνοίᾳ παρὰ πολὺ τἀδελφοῦ λειπόμενος, ἀλλὰ καὶ περὶ τἄλλα πάντα καθυστερῶν καὶ τῇ φύσει καὶ τῇ κατασκευῇ … (Polyb. 23.7.5). Plut. Aem. 8.6–7. The charge of avariciousness comes from the Polybian tradition (above, n. 76). Mommsen 1856:  733–4 (I am indebted to my colleagues, Prof. Hans Kuhn and Dr Gabrielle Schmidt for their aid in translating “einen Kӧnig vom Dutzendschlag,” “a dime-a-dozen king”). Cf. Heiland 1913: 13, 57: Perseus lacked his father’s willpower, endurance, and determination, and was hesitant and indecisive; Raditsa 1972: 579–80: Perseus was inept, feeble, avaricious, indecisive, prone to anger, and always laboring in the shadow of his beloved father, and after his death, with his ghost looming behind him. See e.g. the critique of Giovannini 1969: 857. In addition to the literature cited below, see Mommsen 1856: 739; De Sanctis 1923: 270–9; Meloni 1953: 148–9, 158–9, 444–51; Badian 1958: 95; Walbank 1977a.

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as before his enthronement, the catalyst being the execution of his proRoman brother Demetrius,85 while a very small minority believes it was only after Eumenes’ speech to the senate that the Romans woke up to the king’s untrustworthiness.86 The former argument may be supported by Perseus’ specific request upon his accession that the senate recognize him as the legitimate king of Macedon, which could be taken as an implicit acknowledgment that he knew the senate mistrusted him.87 On the other hand, he may have done this because the succession was in dispute – if the denouement to the tragedy of Philip’s last days, including his grooming of a new successor, Antigonus, son of Echecrates, nephew of Antigonus Doson, is accepted as fact.88 Another possible confirmation of Roman suspicion of Perseus from the outset of his reign may be seen in the senate’s very public pronouncement against the Rhodians in 177 in their dispute with their Lycian subjects. After an embassy from Lycian Xanthus came to Rome to complain of the Rhodians’ treatment of themselves and the rest of the Lycians, the patres sent a letter to Rhodes, ordering that state to treat the Lycians as allies rather than subjects.89 But it was not just the Rhodian mistreatment of the Lycians that provoked the Roman response. Polybius also says the letter was sent in retaliation for the Rhodians’ naval escort of the Seleucid princess Laodice to her nuptials in Macedon, and for Perseus’ generous gifts to them.90 Of course, the senate’s order was the mildest of responses, and was without effect in any case: the Rhodians continued to oppress the Lycians for years to come.91 But that does not affect the point being made here, that the Romans may have harbored suspicions of Perseus – and those who helped him – as early as 177. As will be seen shortly, however, this argument depends partly on the assumption, by no means self-evident, that Perseus’ dynastic policies in themselves were a cause of concern for Rome. Did the Romans have legitimate cause to fear Perseus, and if so, when did this fear originate? According to Appian: The senate, in reality because they did not prefer to have on their flank a stable and industrious king, beneficent toward all, and who attained

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Benecke 1930: 255; Edson 1935: 201; Badian 1958: 95; Errington 1971: 201; Green 1990: 426; Waterfield 2014: 166. Contra Bickermann 1953: 483: this was a “rivalité banale entre deux hériteurs présomptifs.” Gruen 1984: 416–17; Eckstein 2013: 89. Livy 40.58.8, with the interpretation of Adams 1982: 245. See above, Chapter 3, p. 54. Hammond 1988: 491–2 accepts the idea of a disputed succession. Polyb. 25.4.1–5; cf. Livy 41.6.8–12 (with embellishment); discussion: Meloni 1953: 124–5. Polyb. 25.4.7–8. Livy 41.25.8.

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Where did this tradition, seemingly so at odds with the Polybian thesis of Perseus’ incompetence, originate? Unfortunately, certainty is unattainable because of the tattered state of Polybius’ text. Nevertheless, it resembles the positive tradition about Perseus at the outset of his reign found in Polybius.93 As was seen earlier, the historian describes Perseus as capable, physically fit, serious, composed, and of modest appetites, particularly as far as women and drink are concerned. The case for Polybius as Appian’s source here may be strengthened by his use of ἐν πλευραῖς ἔχειν, “on their flank” in the passage. Elsewhere Polybius uses πρὸς ταῖς πλευραῖς, “near their flank,” to describe Roman strategic thinking in the 220s in reference to the Celtic threat: the Romans chose to deal with the latter as a matter of priority, says Polybius, since the danger was near their flank, which necessitated turning a blind eye toward the extension of Carthaginian power in Spain.94 Appian’s statement thus likely originated in Polybius, whom we know Appian followed closely for his account of eastern affairs.95 The notice should be treated as authentic: the Roman senate had reason to fear the growth of Macedonian power.96 92

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ἡ [σύγκλητος] δ᾽ ἔργῳ μὲν οὐκ ἀξιοῦσα βασιλέα σώφρονα καὶ φιλόπονον καὶ ἐς πολλοὺς φιλάνθρωπον, ἀθρόως οὕτως ἐπαιρόμενον καὶ πατρικὸν ὄντα σφίσιν ἐχθρόν, ἐν πλευραῖς ἔχειν, λόγῳ δ᾽ ἃ προύτεινεν ὁ Εὐμένης αἰτιωμένη, πολεμεῖν ἔκρινε τῷ Περσεῖ (App. Mac. 11.3). Polyb. 25.3 (see above, Chapter 4, p. 59), with Adams 1982: 251 n. 99. Polyb. 2.22.10. I owe this suggestion to Arthur Eckstein. Briscoe 2012:  288; cf. Rich 1976:  98 n.  139, and now Rich 2015, who convincingly argues that Polybius was the source for the first two-thirds of Appian’s Syriakē. Meloni 1955: 134–3 believed the anti-Roman-sounding material at Mac. 11.3 came from an unknown Greek source using a combination of Polybius, an annalist, and an anti-Roman Greek source (119–21). Gabba 1956: 100–6 (a review of Meloni 1955), followed by Mastrocinque 1975/6: 34–40 (cf. Bickermann 1953: 481), argued that Appian was following two annalistic sources, one strongly pro-Catonian. While these theories have their attractions (Gabba/Mastrocinque/Bickermann e.g. finds strong support in Livy 42.11.1, where the historian refers to several competing annalistic traditions about the Pergamene embassy of 172), they are both ultimately based on silence, and thus unverifiable. Meloni’s theory is especially problematic since it posits multiple unknown authors in an unnecessarily complicated chain of transmission to account for the anti-Roman-sounding material at App. Mac. 11.3. Such material, however, may have come from Polybius directly, whom we know preserved elements of the proPerseus tradition (thus, as we have seen, Polyb. 25.3; cf. Pais 1926: 554 n. 31). We should also heed the words of Goukowsky 2011: 127 n. 17 that “tous les adeptes de la Quellenforschung” overlook the real possibility that the source favorable to Perseus may be Appian himself. He was not, after all, a mindless copying-machine. Even Harris 1979: 230, who believes the statement is “exaggerated,” cannot deny it contained “part of the truth.” Eckstein 2010: 241 argues that, although Perseus scrupulously avoided giving judicial grounds for complaint, he was altering the balance of power through his military buildup – and he knew it.

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A few more hints of Rome’s fear of Perseus survive in the sources. During the dilectus for the upcoming war, the consul Licinius Crassus urged that everything must be done to encourage enlistment in “the new war, so close to Italy, against a most powerful king.”97 Of course, it could be that Licinius was simply exaggerating the Macedonian threat out of self-interest, that is, to ensure the levy produced a large enough army to defeat Perseus under his leadership. His words, nevertheless, must have seemed plausible to his audience, whom he was trying to persuade to follow his lead. And in the event, the levy was unusually large, and the consul was allowed to draft veterans and centurions past the legal age limit, and to choose his own military tribunes – all good indications, as John Lendon has shown, that the Romans knew the Macedonian war would be “great and terrible.”98 One further item bears notice. Livy states that Philip’s purpose in transferring the Bastarnae to the lands of the Dardani was to clear a path to the Adriatic, whence they would be sent to plunder Italy, distracting the Romans from Philip, who would then recover his Greek possessions.99 Eumenes confirmed to the senate that this plan was inherited by Perseus, and the accusation duly appears in the Delphic charge-sheet inscription. How likely was it that the Romans took this intelligence seriously, either when the Dardani and Thracians reported it in 177, or when Eumenes brought it up in 172? Seriously enough, apparently, to publicize it prominently at Delphi.100 Most scholars now agree that the idea that Philip, and then Perseus, planned to use the Bastarnae to attack Italy is “false and fantastic,” “absurd,” “pure invention,” “almost impossible,” and besides that, “impracticable,” and “a logistic absurdity, since Perseus had no navy.”101 This is no doubt all true, but what matters here is whether the senate believed this was the Macedonian plan, either in 177 or 172. On the former occasion, at least, the Romans were concerned enough to send ambassadors

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Nouo bello, tam propinquo Italiae, aduersus regem potentissimum (Livy 42.33.5). Lendon 2005: 193. Evidence and further discussion: below, p. 114, Chapter 6, p. 138. Livy 40.57.5–9. Pais 1926: 550–1 n. 9 argues that the Romans established a colony at Aquileia in 181/ 180 because they suspected Philip or his proxies would soon invade Italy. Although there it is the Greeks who are under threat rather than Italy. This is only natural in a decree aimed at a Greek audience. As Goukowsky 2011: 150 observes, the inscription represents Perseus as trying to use the barbarians to enslave Greece – a perversion of Macedon’s traditional role, which was to serve as a buffer between the barbarians and Greece. Mastrocinque 1975/76: 36; Errington 1971 (“false and fantastic”); Harris 1979: 229; cf. 231 (“logistic absurdity”); Gruen 1984: 417 n. 106 (impossible because of Perseus’ lack of a navy); Hammond 1988: 468 n. 2 (“impracticable”), 471 (“almost impossible”); Hammond 1989: 361 n. 16; Goukowsky 2011: 143 (“pure invention”); cf. Waterfield 2014: 161 (“against all likelihood”).

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on a distant and dangerous mission into the barbarian wilds beyond the northern frontier of the kingdom of Macedon. They were gone for almost two years.102 A later defensive/preemptive theory is a creation of modern scholarship: that Rome was deeply suspicious of a “coalition of kings” developing on its eastern flank in the 170s. In its original form, the theory stated that the Romans feared an anti-Roman coalition when Perseus, at the outset of his reign, married the Seleucid princess Laodice, and betrothed his sister Apame to Prusias of Bithynia.103 Its critics noted that the theory could not account for Roman indifference toward Perseus at the time the marriages took place.104 In 1953, however, Elias Bickermann offered a refinement of the “coalition of kings” thesis, arguing that the broader geopolitical significance of Perseus’ marriage alliances – and true Roman fear of them – only became apparent in the later 170s. The timing of the transformation of Roman fear into action against Perseus, Bickermann argued, is best explained in the context of the Sixth Syrian War: the Romans feared that the eventual victor in that conflict would link up with Perseus, and his undefeated army of 43,000 men, in order to destroy Rome’s hegemonial position in the East, and so decided to take out Perseus before that could happen. Thus, the Roman war on Perseus was preemptive, that is, fundamentally defensive.105 Bickermann’s thesis appeared to be entirely discredited in 1977 by Frank Walbank, who argued that it depended on a chronological impossibility. Walbank noticed a passage in Livy, derived from Polybius, which stated that Antiochus was waiting for the Roman war with Perseus to break out before beginning his own war against Egypt.106 Thus, [i]f the imminence of the Third Macedonian War was a factor encouraging Antiochus to make war on Egypt, the Senate can hardly have been led to declare war on Perseus because Egypt and Syria were themselves at war – as Bickermann alleges.107 102

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Livy 41.19.4; App. Mac. 11.1. Reinach 1910: 265; Pareti 1952: 741, 750; Meloni 1953: 158–9; Papazoglou 1978: 161–3 accept the historicity of Philip’s plan. Hammond 1989: 361 notes that the Dardanians enjoyed Roman amicitia, which originated in their collaboration against Philip in the Second Macedonian War (cf. Livy 31.40.7, 43.1–3; Zon. 9.15.5). This is probably why they were given the courtesy of a Roman fact-finding mission into the activities of the Bastarnae. Niese 1903:  82–3, 100; Meloni 1953:  122–5; Schmitt 1957:  134–7; Errington 1971:  202–3; Hopp 1977: 35. Giovannini, 1969: 855; Gruen 1975: 66–7 and 1984: 404. Bickerman 1953: 501–5 (with 481–2: preventive war); cf. Will 1967: 227. Livy 42.29.5–6 (quoted below, n. 121). Polybian derivation: Nissen 1863: 248–9; Walbank 1979: 23, 290; Briscoe 2012: 246. Walbank 1977a: 84.

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A Coalition of Kings Redux Since Walbank’s apparent demolition of Bickermann’s thesis few scholars have been willing to entertain the Roman fear of a Syrian–Egyptian war as a serious explanation for the Romans’ decision to go to war against Perseus.108 In an attempt to salvage something from the wreckage, Adams suggested, quite reasonably, that Perseus’ connections to Prusias, the Rhodians, and the Seleucids were directed primarily at Eumenes, who was by the mid170s completely isolated and surrounded by potentially hostile states and kings.109 This was precisely why, in late 175, he helped Antiochus IV secure the Seleucid throne after the assassination of Seleucus IV: it was a deliberate attempt to undermine Perseus’ coalition.110 The plan worked: Eumenes got his Seleucid alliance.111 Erich Gruen further noted that all of this was done without reference to the Romans; it was Hellenistic dynastic politics as usual. The Romans, therefore, had nothing to fear from a “coalition of kings” in the 170s – Eumenes did, and so did something about it.112 It has apparently escaped notice, however, that Walbank’s demolition of Bickermann’s thesis was based on a misrepresentation of it. Bickermann did not argue that fear of the outcome of the Sixth Syrian War motivated Rome to act against Perseus, but fear of its outbreak. Bickermann writes: On the eve of the war against Perseus, Antiochus IV Epiphanes was menacing Egypt. He assumed that the Romans, preoccupied with the Macedonian conflict, would not stand in the way of his plans. The war between Egypt and Syria only began in 170/169, precisely because the courts of Alexandria and Antioch were awaiting the start of hostilities between Pella and Rome. But everyone was expecting war since 173 or 172. The ministers of Ptolemy VI declared openly and loudly that with Egyptian money they would buy off the Syrian garrisons and win over the cities of Coele-Syria. Not only would they reclaim this province, but committed themselves to acquiring all of Antiochus’ kingdom. The Roman embassy that visited the courts of the East in 172 informed the senate of this. As in the run-up to the war

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Cf. Harris 1979: 230; Gruen 1984: 417 n. 106, against e.g. Green 1990: 246. Adams 1982: 246; cf. Goukowsky 2011: 160–1, who notes that Perseus also threatened Eumenes’ position in Thrace, thanks to his expulsion of Abrupolis, his alliance with Cotys, and his possessions in eastern Thrace (on which, see above, Chapter 4, pp. 58, 60). App. Syr. 45 (Eumenes and his brother Attalus drive out Seleucus’ assassin Heliodorus, then install Antiochus); OGIS 1.248 ll. 15–18 (the Pergamenes escort Antiochus to the Syrian frontier, give him money, an army, a diadem, and other insignia of royalty). Discussion: Zambelli 1960: 372–89 (we need not accept his timeline, however); McShane 1964: 163–4; Mørkholm 1966: 41–2; Mittag 2006: 42–4. Although, in the event, it did him little good, for Antiochus soon ingratiated himself with all and sundry, enemy of Perseus or not. See below, pp. 103–4. Gruen 1984: 555–56; cf. Hansen 1971: 107–108; Adams 1982: 246–47.

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Rome and the Third Macedonian War against Philip, the political and military equilibrium in the Aegean basin was in peril again.113

So as early as 173 or 172, a renewal of the perennial Syrian–Egyptian conflict over Coele-Syria was eminently predictable, and indeed even inevitable, with potentially dangerous consequences for Roman arrangements in the East. It was not so much a coalition of kings that threatened, but the opposite: another destructive and destabilizing war between the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kingdoms, with significant adverse ripple effects throughout the eastern Mediterranean. For Rome, as will be seen, the timing was not ideal, as relations with Perseus were beginning to deteriorate; by mid172, he was already declared a hostis. And, of course, should one of the belligerents in the ongoing fight over Coele-Syria emerge victorious this time, as seemed likely, Rome’s unipolar hegemony in the East, established in 188 and carefully maintained for a decade and a half, would be destroyed at a stroke. Contributions to scholarship since Bickermann’s article appeared have allowed for further refinement of his basic insight. Recently, John Grainger has shown that, whenever one or both of the Seleucid and Ptolemaic rulers died, the treaty that ended the most recent war in the series over Coele-Syria was typically considered to be no longer binding, and the successor(s), almost as a matter of course, started strategically positioning themselves for the resumption of hostilities.114 And, of course, the other states of the eastern Mediterranean held their collective breath, knowing it was only a matter of time and opportunity before war broke out afresh. This was the situation after April or May 176, when the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra Syra, daughter of Antiochus III, died, thus depriving her children by Ptolemy V (dead since 181), all of them under the age of 12, of a responsible regent.115 As long the Dowager Queen was at the helm, there had been little chance of war 113

114

115

Bickermann 1953: 502. Cf. Will 1967: 265: everyone in the East was expecting the war to break out from 172 at the latest. Grainger 2010: 115 (establishing the paradigm: “by 261 Antiochus was dead, and the PtolemaicSeleukid peace of 271 no longer applied”; the Second Syrian War broke out almost immediately), 151, 186–7, 236 (the most obvious instance: Ptolemy IV dies and the boy-king Ptolemy V succeeds in 204; in 204, Philip V is in Asia Minor, attacking Ptolemaic possessions; by winter 203/2, Philip has struck a pact with Antiochus III to dismember the Egyptian kingdom; and by spring 202, Antiochus is attacking Coele-Syria). Grainger 2010: 282 (following Ray 1976: 79, based on the Demotic archive of Hor of Sebennytos) on the date of Cleopatra Syra’s death (also recorded at Porph. In Dan. fr. 49a). The ages of her children at the time of her death were 11 (Cleopatra II), 9 (Ptolemy VI), and 6 (the future Ptolemy VIII Physcon).

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with Syria since it was very unlikely she would make war on her own brother, Seleucus IV.116 But as soon as she died, two courtiers – Eulaeus, a eunuch, and Lenaeus, a Syrian former slave – immediately seized control, stockpiled all the wealth they could lay their hands on, staged the marriage of Ptolemy VI and his sister Cleopatra, and put on massive public banquets.117 From the outset of their regime, rumors were rife that the two ministers were preparing not just to recover Coele-Syria, but to conquer the entire Seleucid empire.118 Eulaeus and Lenaeus, that is, behaved as though the treaty between Antiochus III and Ptolemy V that had ended the Fifth Syrian War in 195 had been nullified in 176/5 by the death of Cleopatra Syra. The danger of a renewal of the war over Coele-Syria intensified after Antiochus IV seized the Seleucid throne late in 175.119 Although the new king took no overt steps to instigate a war at the time, his coup put him in control of resources and manpower unsurpassed in the region.120 Livy, following Polybius, says that before the war with Perseus broke out, “Antiochus was already threatening Egypt, despising the youth of the king and the laziness of his ministers; he thought that by raising the issue of Coele-Syria he would have a justification for war, and he could conduct it without hindrance once the Romans were preoccupied with the Macedonian war.”121 Antiochus also immediately started consolidating support, mounting, as Perseus had done at the start of his reign, an aggressive charm offensive toward the states of Asia Minor, Athens, Delos, the Boeotian confederacy, 116 117

118 119

120

121

Mittag 2006: 94 and 152. Diod. Sic. 30.15; 2 Macc. 4:21–2, with Mørkholm 1966:  68 n.  18; Gruen 1984:  686; Grainger 2010: 282, 287. Diod. Sic. 30.16. Grainger 2010: 282–3: after Seleucus IV was killed, “he was succeeded by a younger brother under circumstances which destabilized the Seleucid kingdom once more, and this encouraged those in Egypt keen to reopen the conflict over Koile Syria, and thereby opened the way to a new war.” Diod. Sic. 30.15. Ptolemy V, following the usual pattern (above, n. 114), had evidently been planning a war of revenge against Syria after the death of Antiochus III, which may be the source of Antiochus IV’s considerable resources and manpower (Diod. Sic. 29.29). Antiochus imminebat quidem Aegypti regno, et pueritiam regis et inertiam tutorum spernens; et ambigendo de Coele Syria causam belli se habiturum existimabat gesturumque id nullo impedimento occupatis Romanis in Macedonico bello (Livy 42.29.5–6). Bickermann, as we have seen, dates Antiochus’ calculations mentioned here to 173 or 172, i.e. before the Roman embassy to Asia and the Aegean, which affirmed the loyalty of the kings (42.19.6–8), since Livy syntactically connects the Seleucid king’s strategic thinking to his promise to help Rome in its war with Perseus with tamen at 42.29.6. What Livy seems to say is that Antiochus was threatening Egypt, and was thinking he could provoke war by raising the issue of Coele-Syria, but wanted to wait and see how the Rome–Perseus business (revealed by the embassy of 172) played out, knowing that if it came to war he could attack Ptolemy without interference from a preoccupied Rome; that was what he was thinking, but nevertheless promised the embassy in 172 that he would provide everything Rome needed for the war with Perseus.

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and various cities in the Achaean League.122 Polybius remarks that, at the outset of his reign, Antiochus’ generosity toward cities and temples of the gods throughout Greece was unsurpassed.123 The volatility in the eastern kingdoms in the mid-170s, to say nothing of the Egyptian regime’s open preparations for war, imperiled the stability of the eastern Mediterranean; thus far Bickermann, supplemented by later scholarship. When or whether any of these events aroused Roman suspicion and fear is a different question entirely. The Romans certainly knew about Egypt’s preparations for war by 174, when a Roman embassy visited the East.124 The purpose of the embassy was to look into the state of the Seleucid kingdom, recently rocked by the assassination of King Seleucus IV, the enthronement of his 4- or 5-year-old son Antiochus by Seleucus’ prime minister and killer Heliodorus, the coup engineered by Eumenes and Antiochus IV, and the odd compromise that made Antiochus IV co-ruler with the younger Antiochus, as well as his regent and adoptive father.125 Even though the envoys were satisfied that the pro-Roman Apollonius of Miletus was Antiochus’ leading advisor,126 and that the king himself was behaving in Roman fashion, canvassing his subjects in a toga and sitting in a curule chair,127 they may still have had some misgivings about him. He was, after all, a different sort of man from his predecessor, Seleucus IV, a virtual pacifist by comparison. An armed coup brought Antiochus to 122

123

124

125

126 127

The primarily epigraphic evidence is gathered in Mørkholm 1966: 56–63, but unfortunately much of it is undated. Polyb. 26.1 (below) helps to date this activity to early in the reign, while a key inscription, SIG3 644/645, a decree honoring Eudemus of Seleucia for his services, provides a rough terminus ante quem of 172 (Mittag 2006: 101 and n. 21). Polyb. 26.1.10–11. In 169/8, Lycortas (with his son Polybius in attendance) remarked on Antiochus’ remarkable generosity before the Achaean League council (Polyb. 29.24.13). The report of the embassy is recorded at Livy 42.6.12, but its dispatch is unrecorded; it probably fell into the large lacuna following Livy 41.28: Briscoe 2012: 175. The date: Mørkholm 1966: 64–5 n. 3; Mittag 2006: 99; Briscoe 2012: 175. This arrangement would last until mid-170, when the child was killed by Antiochus. Discussion: Zambelli 1960; Mørkholm 1964; Mørkholm 1966: 36, 40–60; Walbank 1979: 284–5; Gruen 1984:  646–7; Mittag 2006:  157–8; Grainger 2010:  284–7, 292–3. On the purpose of the Roman embassy of 174, see Grainger 2010: 288 (“mainly investigative”), vs. Mørkholm 1966: 64 (“purely formal – to establish contact”); Mittag 2006: 99 (“gratulierte dem neuen seleukidischen König”). Livy 46.6.12. On the identity of Apollonius, see Mørkholm 1966: 47–8; Mittag 2006: 63. His behavior caused some of his subjects to label him Epimanes, “madman,” a play on his honorific “Epiphanes” (Polyb. 26.1a-1 = Diod. Sic. 30.32; cf. Livy Per. 41). Antiochus had no doubt picked up his Roman habits while a hostage in Rome for thirteen years (App. Syr. 39, 45; he seized the Seleucid throne when he was on his way back to Syria after being replaced as hostage by his brother Seleucus’ eldest son Demetrius). Antiochus would later use a Roman architect, Cossutius, to help him in his attempt to complete the Temple of Olympian Zeus at Athens (Vitr. Arch. 7 pr. 15). The king must have died while the project was underway since it was left unfinished for Hadrian to complete three centuries later: Mørkholm 1966: 58; Mittag 2006: 116–17.

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power, he was in possession of massive resources and manpower, and he was young, vigorous, and ambitious.128 In the next generation, if Polybius is to be believed, the senate preferred to have Antiochus IV’s son Antiochus V, a boy of 8 or 9, on the Seleucid throne rather than Demetrius, the capable and vigorous 23-year-old son of Seleucus IV.129 The patres may have felt the same in 174. One reason the Romans may have been happy to discover that Apollonius was influential with Antiochus IV was because he was part of a court faction that was loyal to the boy-king Antiochus.130 As long as the co-rulership held, the potential for internal Seleucid instability existed, which made Syrian aggression against their neighbors less likely, and thus less likely to undermine the Roman-supported order in the East. But how long could a young, vigorous, ambitious king, who needed to establish his prestige and legitimacy as early as possible, be content with mere co-kingship and regency? After all, the longer he waited, the closer his young nephew moved toward majority, and to staking his claim to the throne that rightfully and solely belonged to him.131 It did not bode well that by 173/2, the senior Antiochus began styling himself Theos Epiphanes, “god manifest,” thus elevating himself above his younger co-ruler – as well as the rest of mankind.132 Roman ambivalence toward Antiochus IV, who, after all, had seized power in a coup, may explain why renewal of the Roman–Seleucid amicitia was not on the agenda of the embassy of 174. The normalization of relations with the new Seleucid regime had to await the return of the Roman embassy, and the arrival in Rome of the follow-up embassy of Antiochus’ advisor Apollonius in 173. On that occasion, Apollonius no doubt reported what he witnessed at Alexandria on his way to Rome: the opulent celebrations mounted by Eulaeus and Lenaeus, and perhaps their preparations for a new war over Coele-Syria.133 Apollonius also brought with him the 128

129 130 131

132

133

Like Perseus, Antiochus was at this time in his late 30s: Mørkholm 1966: 38; Mittag 2006: 32–7. On his ambition, see Mørkholm 1966: 48, and below. Polyb. 31.2.6–7; discussion: Burton 2011: 219; cf. 300. Mørkholm 1966: 48. In the event, Antiochus did away with his co-ruler and nephew in 170:  Zambelli 1960:  363–5; Mørkholm 1966:  42–3, 71; Mittag 2006:  157–8; Grainger 2010:  293 (based on an entry in the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries); cf. above, n. 125. But this was, of course, all in the future, and thus did not affect the elder Antiochus’ strategic calculus in 174. Mørkholm 1966:  48, based on numismatic evidence. As Mørkholm (47 n.  35)  also notes, the younger Antiochus is not mentioned in Appian’s account of Antiochus IV’s accession (Syr. 45), or in the Athenian decree recording the same events (OGIS 1.248, with above, n. 110). 2 Macc. 4:21–2, with Livy 42.6.6–12, and Gruen 1984: 686–7; cf. above, p. 103. Mørkholm 1966: 65 n. 5 doubts that discussion of the Egyptian situation took place at all, and (68 n. 18) that there is no way of determining whether Apollonius visited Egypt before or after he visited Rome. It makes

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final instalment of Antiochus III’s indemnity from the Syrian War,134 as well as lavish gifts of golden vases. The Romans renewed their amicitia with the Seleucid kingdom, and gave Apollonius himself 100,000 asses, as well as a house in Rome for his enjoyment.135 A congenial outcome for all concerned, no doubt, but the paying off of the indemnity may have raised concerns in some quarters. Here was a tangible sign of resurgent Seleucid prosperity, and worse, of a state that no longer regarded itself as an inferior to Rome, but an equal, the most graphic symbol of its inferiority – the indemnity – having been removed.136 However that may be, after Apollonius’ visit, the Romans had confirmation of the prosperity of the Seleucid kingdom, and probably further intelligence on the Egyptian regime’s preparations for war. It makes sense, then, that a fresh batch of ambassadors was dispatched to Asia and the Aegean in 172, with special instructions to sound out the attitude of the kings. In the event, they reported back that Perseus had already tried to make alliances with both Antiochus and Ptolemy, but he had been rebuffed.137 In all this there is a vague sense of déjà vu. In 172, the Romans renewed their amicitia with the Syrian kingdom, whose new king, Antiochus, had effectively seized power in an armed coup after the assassination of Seleucus IV, and had the resources (as the payment of the indemnity and the gift of golden vases proved), capability, and motivation to attack Ptolemy. Similarly, at the outset of Perseus’ reign, the Romans renewed their amicitia with Macedon, even though they were already suspicious of Perseus because of the death of his brother Demetrius (a preemptive coup?), and his aggression against Roman amici (Abrupolis and the Dardanians). Both renewals of amicitia probably contained an element of defensiveness; that is, they were in part designed to assure the Romans that their eastern flank would remain stable in the short, if not the long term – which we know was a source of concern for them.138

134

135 136

137

138

no difference to the argument presented here since the Romans most likely already knew about the Ptolemaic regime’s activities, thanks to the intelligence gathered by the Roman embassy sent to the East in 174. The payment was long overdue, the final instalment having been scheduled for 177 (Mørkholm 1966: 65). Livy 42.6.6–12. Compare the situation after 151, when Carthage made its final indemnity payment from the settlement of 201: Burton 2011: 310, 315–16, 322. While the Romans occasionally remitted indemnity balances (as with Philip in 190: above, Chapter 3, pp. 39–40), they frowned upon any attempts at voluntary early payments: Livy 36.4 (Rome rejects Carthage’s attempt – in 191 – to pay off the balance of their indemnity imposed in 201). Livy [P] 42.45.8; App. Mac. 11.4 (Livy 42.19.7–8, 26.7–9 is evidently an annalistic doublet of the Polybian report: Mørkholm 1966: 66 n. 6; Luce 1977: 126–7, 132 and n. 40; Briscoe 2012: 17). App. Mac. 11.3, and above, pp. 97–8.

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But the sense of history repeating goes deeper than this. Some of the older senators, including Cato, no doubt recalled a time when events in the Hellenistic East threatened to upset the precarious balance of power there, when a coalition of formidable and vigorous kings united against an unstable regime with a child on the throne.139 In 203/2, Antiochus III Megas, fresh from his reconquest of Alexander’s eastern empire, ganged up with the expansionist Philip V, who believed the blood of Alexander the Great flowed through his veins, against the terribly weakened Egyptian kingdom, rocked by a nativist insurrection and with a child, Ptolemy V, on the throne, a virtual hostage to his ministers.140 In 174 (and perhaps earlier), there existed the potential for a similar configuration. An impotent child subject to the whims of his ministers sat on the Egyptian throne, while the other two major Hellenistic kingdoms were ruled by vigorous and ambitious kings in the prime of life, related by marriage, and each possessing vast amounts of manpower and resources that could be brought to bear against Ptolemy. Adding to the danger was the fact that Ptolemy was controlled by ministers with their own ambitious agenda, which was known to include the reignition of the war over Coele-Syria.141 The situation in the East was very volatile in the mid-170s. Both the Seleucid and Ptolemaic regimes were highly motivated to go to war with each other over Coele-Syria, and indeed, seemed to be taking steps in that direction. If provoked by an attack from a severely weakened (and delusionally overconfident) Ptolemaic regime, Antiochus was certainly strong enough on his own to deal with it, but he could virtually guarantee preponderance, and victory, by calling upon his relatives Prusias and Perseus (Antiochus’ friend Eumenes might also be persuaded to hold his nose and join in). Antiochus, moreover, had all the moral and legal cover he needed to attack Egypt preemptively, if necessary: as uncle and closest surviving competent blood relation of the young Ptolemies, he could claim that he was well within his rights to rescue them from the pernicious control of their evil ministers.142 None of this matters, of course, unless the Romans could foresee the potential dangers of the situation from 173, as Bickermann claims. As Walbank correctly saw, the parallels between 203/2 and the mid-170s are by no means precise.143 Neither Perseus nor Antiochus IV were the men 139 140 141 142

143

Bickermann 1953: 504. Sources and discussion: Eckstein 2008: 129–80 (cf. 2006: 271–5) (definitive). Cf. Grainger 2010: 287. He would later claim to be Ptolemy VI’s protector in an attempt to undermine the influence of the ministers in Alexandria: Mørkholm 1966: 84; Grainger 2010: 299. Walbank 1977a: 83: “History can of course repeat itself; but rarely so soon, or so precisely.”

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their fathers had been; the latter were great conquerors, while the former merely possessed the potential (the resources and manpower) to be so. And, crucially, there was as yet no sign, beyond their marriage tie itself, that Perseus and Antiochus intended to create a grand coalition to take out Egypt.144 The family connection between Perseus and Antiochus IV may also have been a far less potent catalyst for collaboration than Philip and Antiochus’ secret pact of 203/2, which was struck for the very purpose of destroying Ptolemaic power. There was certainly no sense in the mid-170s that a latent coalition, arising from the marriage bond between Perseus and Antiochus, would automatically be activated should Antiochus choose to attack or retaliate against Ptolemy VI. On the other hand, if history does not repeat, as Mark Twain is alleged to have said, it at least rhymes. If, as turned out to be the case, the Ptolemaic regime began preparing for war against Antiochus over Coele-Syria in the mid-170s; and if, as turned out to be the case, Egypt was weak and vulnerable in the mid-170s, with a child on the throne in thrall to ministers with no experience of war themselves, and no competent military advisors;145 and if, as turned out to be the case, those ministers foolishly decided to go to war against Antiochus, who had more resources and manpower than his nearest competitor;146 and finally, if, as Livy (following Polybius) recognized, Antiochus, while taking no overtly hostile steps against Egypt, was predisposed to raise the issue of Coele-Syria, and thus provoke a war with Ptolemy as early as 173;147 then it was not at all unlikely that Perseus would be drawn into the conflict somehow, most probably on the side of his relative Antiochus, who, moreover, was clearly much stronger than Ptolemy.148 The war between Perseus and Rome prevented this possibility from becoming a reality. This brings us back to the geostrategic view of our ancient sources, and in particular Polybius. If the outbreak of a major war between the Seleucid and Ptolemaic regimes in the late 170s was a mere possibility based on a scenario that did not actually come to pass, does this mean Rome had nothing to fear from what was happening in the East? Walbank’s critique of Bickermann, with which this discussion of the situation in the eastern 144

145 146 147 148

Although the decree honoring Eudemus of Seleucia for his services (above, n. 122) hints at Antiochus’ early connections to Perseus’ friends and allies Byzantium and the Boeotian confederacy. Diod. Sic. 30.15. Diod. Sic. 30.15. Livy 42.29.5–6, quoted above, n. 121. Walbank 1977a: 83: “admittedly, we are here dealing with ‘ifs.’ ” But deal with them we must, once they have been raised.

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Aegean began, actually contains the necessary ancient evidence to lend greater plausibility to the idea that such geostrategic thinking was in the air for Rome to consider in the late 170s. Recall that Walbank argued Bickermann’s argument was fatally flawed because the outbreak of the Third Macedonian War antedated the Sixth Syrian War, and, according to Livy, motivated Antiochus to attack Egypt. Thus dismissed, the Livy passage receives no further analysis. Walbank thus fails to appreciate its true significance. It reveals, as Bickermann recognized, complex historical analysis that saw an intimate geostrategic connection between Rome’s war with Perseus and the Sixth Syrian War. The connection, in fact, originates with Polybius, who ends his account of both wars as follows: Fortune thus passed judgment on the affairs of Perseus and the Macedonians in such a way that Alexandria and the whole of Egypt, having been brought into extreme danger, were set to right again by the decision about Perseus’ fate coming first. For had this not happened or been confirmed for him, Antiochus, it seems to me, would never have obeyed the Romans’ orders [to withdraw from Egypt].149

This is just another way of saying, as indeed Livy does (in the passage Walbank uses to attack Bickermann), that Antiochus was planning to attack Egypt whenever the Roman war with Perseus broke out, so that he could wage war on Ptolemy without Roman interference.150 In sum, the Romans were not so much afraid of the dynastic connections between Perseus, Prusias, and Antiochus IV, but what those connections might mean in the context of a further, likely, and indeed imminent round of the ongoing Syrian – Egyptian wars over Coele-Syria. By 174, or 173 at the latest, the Romans were alerted to the situation in the East, and concerned enough about it to send two embassies, in 174 and 172, to look into Seleucid and Ptolemaic affairs. Although Antiochus IV apparently made no move to transform his marriage connection with Perseus into a grand coalition of kings to bring to bear against the Ptolemaic regime, it would surely have entered Rome’s foreign policy calculus that such a move was possible as Syria and Egypt edged closer to war. For the Romans, moreover, the situation in the Hellenistic East in the mid-170s was also 149

150

τῆς τύχης οὕτω βραβευούσης τὰ κατὰ τὸν Περσέα πράγματα καὶ τοὺς Μακεδόνας ὥστε καὶ πρὸς τὸν ἔσχατον καιρὸν ἐλθόντα τὰ κατὰ τὴν Ἀλεξάνδρειαν καὶ τὴν ὅλην Αἴγυπτον παρὰ τοῦτο πάλιν ὀρθωθῆναι, παρὰ τὸ φθάσαι κριθέντα τὰ κατὰ τὸν Περσέα πράγματα: [13] μὴ γὰρ γενομένου τούτου καὶ πιστευθέντος, οὐκ ἄν μοι δοκεῖ πειθαρχῆσαι τοῖς ἐπιταττομένοις Ἀντίοχος (Polyb. 29.27.12–13). The latter statement refers to the famous “Day of Eleusis,” on which, see below, Chapter 7, pp. 177–8. Livy 42.29.5–6, quoted above, n. 121.

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disconcertingly similar, in some aspects, to that in the late third century, but with the crucial difference that they themselves were now more deeply enmeshed in eastern affairs by virtue of being the protector of Greek freedom, established by the Isthmian decree of 196.151 Another important difference from the situation in 203/2:  Syria and Egypt were equally belligerent at this point. The Romans had also expended considerable amounts of blood and treasure in the Macedonian and Syrian Wars to establish a stable unipolar hegemony over the East, and this could be upset at a stroke if, as seemed likely, Antiochus crushed Ptolemy’s ministers in war. As what would become the Sixth Syrian War moved ever closer to becoming reality, the Romans reacted in 171 pretty much as they had done in 200: they responded positively to a request for help by an amicus, attempted to isolate Macedon diplomatically and compel it to obedience, and when that failed, went to war against the kingdom, and tried to resolve the war between Egypt and Syria through diplomacy. Although Bickermann perhaps exaggerated Rome’s fear of a coalition of kings, in other words, he was probably correct to suggest that the manifest instability in the East and rapidly approaching Syrian War directly threatened Rome’s arrangements and geostrategic position there. Pace Walbank, it is not implausible that this situation caused anxiety for Rome in the late 170s, and may have played a role in the decision to declare war on Macedon in 171, just as it had done, in roughly similar circumstances, in 200. (ii) Theories of Roman Aggression Because hardly anyone is willing to credit Polybius’ thesis that Perseus inherited a war long planned by his father Philip, and because Perseus seemed to want to avoid war at all costs, it is perhaps not surprising that causal theories predicated on Roman aggression currently hold the field. The roots of this view lie in the ancient sources, and in particular in the “new wisdom” (noua sapientia) debate that took place in the senate following the return of the Roman embassy to the East led by Marcius Philippus.152 Livy says that Marcius and Atilius Serranus prefaced their 151 152

I owe this observation to Arthur Eckstein. Livy 42.47 (based on Polybian material: Nissen 1863: 250; Briscoe 1964: 68 n. 32; Walbank 1974: 10–11, 23; Gabba 1977: 68; Eckstein 1995: 109 n. 90 and 2010: 243; Briscoe 2012: 313). Discussion: Meloni 1953: 202–3; Briscoe 1964; Errington 1971: 210–12; Derow 1989: 309–10; Eckstein 1995: 109. The authenticity of the debate has been challenged (cf. Adams 1982: 256; Gruen 1984: 414–15), but there is nothing inherently false or unlikely about it, and indeed it makes perfect sense in this context since there are parallel instances when the senate debated the morality of undertaking a

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report with a boast that they had deceived the king by making the truce and giving hope of peace (decepto per indutias et spem pacis rege). They explained that because Perseus was fully armed and ready, but the Romans were by no means prepared, the king could have had a significant strategic advantage, but the truce period would deprive him of this, allowing the Romans to mobilize and begin the war on equal terms. They also reported that they had broken up the Boeotian confederacy so that it could never be used to support Macedon again. A  large section of the senate, says Livy, approved of the embassy’s success as displaying the height of reason (summa ratione), but the older senators, mindful of the old ways and the Roman character (antiqui moris … Romanas … artes), disapproved. The Romans of old, they said, did not wage war with ambushes, night attacks, or feigning retreat, only to turn back against the enemy, nor did they take more pride in their cleverness than in true courage (nec … astu magis quam uera uirtute gloriarentur). Roman fides compelled their ancestors to declare war before waging it, sometimes even informing the enemy of the time and place of battle. The Roman sense of right was unlike the cunning of the Carthaginians or the cleverness of the Greeks (religionis haec Romanae … non uersutiarum Punicarum neque calliditatis Graecae), who prided themselves on deceiving the enemy instead of overcoming him by force (fallere hostem quam ui superare gloriosius). Deceit (dolo), skill (arte), and chance (casu) may overcome the enemy in the short term, but only courage (uirtute), and a trial of strength in war waged justly and according to sacred principle (iusto ac pio … bello), can crush the enemy’s spirit and force him to accept defeat on a permanent basis. The older senators, Livy concludes, were displeased by Marcius’ new and overly clever wisdom (noua ac nimis callida … sapientia), but the greater part of the senate, preferring expediency to honor (potior utilis quam honesti cura), approved of his actions. The older senators, who disapproved Marcius’ deception, can safely be identified with Cato and others of the generation who remembered the threats posed by Hannibal, Philip V, and Antiochus the Great. They did not necessarily disapprove of declaring war on Perseus per se, and may indeed have seen in his military buildup, his charm offensive in Greece, and maybe the deteriorating relations between Ptolemy and Antiochus in the East as threats, perhaps not comparable to the earlier ones, but threats nevertheless. Who made up the magna pars of the senate that approved of Marcius’ conduct, and was eager to bring on the war? H.H. Scullard, potentially risky and/or lengthy war (e.g. before the First Punic War: Burton 2011: 128–33). It also fits with the tradition of the debate following Eumenes’ visit in 172, on which, see below, pp. 114–15.

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adopting a prosopographical approach, suggested plebeian noui homines who had missed out on the spoils of victory in Rome’s earlier wars. Two such men, C. Popillius Laenas and P. Aelius Ligus, were consuls in 172, and wanted Macedonia assigned as a province, but the senate refused after Popillius refused to discuss his brother Marcus’ massacre of the Statellate Ligurians the year before.153 The consuls for 171, P.  Licinius Crassus and C. Cassius Longinus, were both plebeians as well, and became involved in an unseemly competition to secure Macedonia as their province. Cassius tried to declare Licinius ineligible for the command since as praetor in 176 he had sworn an oath that he could not take up his command for religious reasons, which, Cassius argued, was still the case now that Licinius was consul. The senate rejected Cassius’ claim and the lot decided: Licinius got Macedonia, Cassius Italy.154 After the war was underway, Cassius blithely left his province and entered Illyria, exposing Italy’s northern flank. The senate had a hard time bringing him to heel. He ordered the Alpine tribes friendly to Rome to supply guides for his march into Macedonia, but turned back in the middle of his march and raped, pillaged, enslaved, and plundered his way through their lands. Cassius then turned around and resumed his journey to Macedonia, becoming a military tribune under A.  Hostilius, Licinius’ consular replacement in the Macedonian command in 170.155 All of these men – the Popillii, Cassius, Licinius, Aelius – belonged to a “violent plebeian clique … who looked for glory in war,” according to Scullard, and in the late 170s had overwhelmed “the more cautious elements in the Senate.”156 In 1964, John Briscoe began the necessary task of chipping away at such party-political explanations for Roman aggression:  “a more revealing link [than these men’s family connections],” Briscoe argues, “lies in the pattern of their behavior,” which, in Marcius’ case, was “subtle and deceptive,” while the other men were simply “harsh and unfeeling.”157 In 1979, William Harris dismissed prosopographical explanations as completely “fallacious,” for, plebeian arrivistes or not, “for the most part they behaved as members of the 153

154 155 156

157

Livy 42.10.8–12; on M. Popillius Laenas’ massacre of the Statellate Ligurians, see Livy 42.8, with Burton 2011: 326–8. Livy 42.32.1–5. Livy 43.5. Scullard 1950:  194–200 (quotations from 198); cf. Frank 1914:  190–2; Bickermann 1953:  500–1 (“arrivistes”); Meloni 1953: 150; Will 1967: 224; Mastrocinque 1975/6: 30–4 (who believes that “the entrepreneurial class – bankers, merchants, money-lenders [ – who] sought to expand their businesses by opening up new sources of gain” were behind the electoral victories of “the plebeian interventionist party”). Briscoe 1964: 74, 75. Badian 1958: 95 n. 4 had simply dismissed the prosopographical approach without argument.

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aristocracy had behaved for centuries” – that is, with an exceptionally large appetite for warfare and conquest.158 Party-political explanations for Roman aggression in the run-up to the war have by now gone completely out of fashion.159 For Harris, Roman aggression and bellicosity was innate and systemic, a function of a competitive aristocratic regime that valued winning gloria in war above all else. So, in the case of the Third Macedonian War, because the wars in Spain were over and the Ligurian War was winding down by 172, “a new theatre [for Roman aggression] was in a sense needed”; Roman commanders were now “seeking a new target.”160 Errington believes that a terrible failure of Roman character had set in by the late 170s: “brutal war mongering” had become the norm, a legacy of the long and bloody wars in Spain and Liguria, which gave free rein to “innate Roman brutality and ruthlessness.”161 Roman diplomacy had become “so single-minded, so extraordinarily brutal,” that Perseus did not stand a chance in the face of “the brutal determination of the majority in the Roman senate to destroy a state in which they saw the opportunity of making rich booty.”162 Harris too stresses the greed of the men volunteering for service against Perseus since they had missed out on the booty from the wars against Philip and Antiochus.163 It is, of course, impossible to deny that some Romans were motivated by the desire for glory and/or plunder, but there are problems with the idea that the Romans were so exceptionally brutal and greedy that additional causes beyond this need not even be sought.164 For one thing, if an overwhelming majority of Romans were eager for war from as early as late 173, as indeed Livy’s account maintains,165 and for the reasons Harris

158

159

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162 163 164

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Harris 1979: 231 (critique of Scullard’s thesis in n. 6 and Additional Note XVIII, 270–1, whence “fallacious”). Cf. Giovannini 1969: 868 and n. 4; Adams 1982: 249–50 (the dispute was a generational rather than a gentilic problem); Errington 1990: 214 (competition for gloria was endemic). Harris 1979: 231–2 (cf. Hammond 1988: 502 on gloria). As Green 1990: 428 points out, however, the Romans were more likely exhausted from the wars in Spain and Liguria rather than feeling at loose ends and needing a new war to occupy them. The recruitment difficulties during the initial dilectus for the war with Perseus (on which, see below, p. 114, Chapter 6, p. 138) seem to support this. Errington 1971: 289 n. 30 (“brutal war mongering”) and 1990: 214; cf. Waterfield 2014: 18 (“warmongering”), 58 (“brutal”). Errington 1990: 215. Harris 1979: 233, with Livy 42.32.6; cf. Hammond 1988: 502. Critique of Harris 1979, especially of his thesis of Roman exceptionalism in terms of aggression:  Burton 2009:  249–50. For an extensive analysis showing that Roman militarism was not exceptional in the ancient Mediterranean, see Eckstein 2006: 37–117. See above, Chapter 4, pp. 76–7.

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and others state, it is strange that war was not declared until more than a year after Eumenes’ visit, and Roman troops did not cross to Greece in any substantial numbers until several months after that.166 One reason for this was problems with the levy. There appears to be more evidence in Livy for attempts to avoid and interfere with the dilectus in 171 than for the purported floods of volunteers flocking to the standards out of sheer greed for easy plunder. In order to cope with the larger sized legions authorized by the senate for the war against Perseus, Licinius was permitted to enroll former centurions and veterans up to 50 years old. The seriousness of the war mandated a further significant change: by senatorial decree, the right to choose military tribunes was transferred from the people to the consuls and praetors.167 The consuls conducted the levy with greater care than usual, but their chosen military tribunes disregarded the former rank of ex-centurions when enrolling them.168 The matter was brought before the tribunes, with former consul M. Popillius Laenas advocating for the ex-centurions being restored to their former rank, while Licinius advised the people not to hinder the levy or the consul’s right to assign rank as he saw fit.169 Spurius Lugistinus, a former centurion, then made an emotional appeal to the people, after which Licinius recommended him to the senate, and restored him to his former rank. The other centurions gave up their protests and enrolled according to the senate’s decree.170 These arguments over who should not serve and in what capacity those who had to serve should do so suggest the opposite of a greed-induced rush to the standards in the hope of easy money and plunder. In terms of glory-seeking senators, as has already been seen in the context of the noua sapientia debate, senatorial opinion about the wisdom of undertaking the war against Perseus was by no means monolithic even as late as the beginning of consular 171. Precious evidence from Appian shows that senatorial opinion was divided after Eumenes laid out his indictment of Perseus in the closed-door meeting of the senate in early 172. Some senators criticized the king for warmongering based on his private fears and grudges.171 This is of a piece with (and probably belongs in the same context as) a notice in Plutarch in which Cato the Elder criticizes Eumenes 166

167 168 169 170 171

Gruen 1984: 414, 416; Rosenstein 2012: 216. The salience of this argument depends in part on careful attention to chronology. See Appendix B. Livy 42.31.2–5. Livy 42.32.6–8. Livy 42.33. Livy 42.34–35.2. For trouble with the levy, see Warrior 1981: 8. τῶν δὲ βουλευτῶν πολλοὶ τὸν Εὐμένη δι’ αἰτίας εἶχον ὑπὸ φθόνου καί δέους αἴτιον τοσοῦδε πολέμου γενόμενον (App. Mac. 11.3).

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and the senators who fawn over him, for “a king is by nature a carnivorous beast.”172 Elsewhere, Polybius cites with approval the comments of Cato on the decline of morality in the Republic, which he dated to the destruction of Macedon and the influx of wealth that resulted.173 It stands to reason that there would have been intense debate and division within the senate over the wisdom of undertaking a potentially lengthy, dangerous, and expensive war with the kingdom of Macedon, especially when there were grave doubts about Eumenes’ evidence and motives. The eagerness with which some senators sought important commands in recent years must have concerned some of their peers that the competition for commands in the Macedonian war would be incredibly fierce and could lead to violent disputes among the magistrates. It is important to remember in this context that the senate refused to declare a Macedonian province in 172 knowing full well how desperately the consuls of that year wanted it. Senatorial consensus on a Macedonian war had to be built up gradually as individual senators’ misgivings were overcome by argument, persuasion, and, most importantly, verifiable intelligence and hard evidence. Other possible motives for Roman aggressive intervention against Perseus suggested by modern scholars include Roman resentment at their influence being displaced by Macedon’s in the East.174 The idea actually goes back over a century to Tenney Frank, an advocate of the thesis that the Romans were defensive imperialists.175 Around the same time, Paul Heiland argued that the Romans could not tolerate their replacement by Perseus as the Greeks’ benefactor.176 As Harris argues, the rise of Perseus’ auctoritas among the Greeks irritated the Romans, but they did not act until Eumenes explained it to them.177 Derow and Eckstein likewise regard Perseus’ charm offensive toward the Greeks as a threat to the Romans’ own auctoritas in the East, and to the arrangements they made (at great expense and sacrifice) to stabilize relations among the Greeks. Gruen concurs: after Eumenes pointed out to the senators that Perseus regarded their 172

173

174 175 176 177

Plut. Cat. Mai. 8.6-7, with the quotation at §7 (… φύσει τοῦτο τὸ ζῷον ὁ βασιλεὺς σαρκοφάγον ἐστιν). Polyb. 31.25.5–7; discussion:  Eckstein 1995:  78 n.  82, 183 n.  85, 264–5, 1997:  esp.  192–8, and 2010: 243; cf. Briscoe 1964: 76. This suggests, pace Meloni 1955: 140–2, that Polybius is the likely source behind App. Mac. 11.3 (above, n. 95). Cf., among the others cited below, Hammond 1988: 495, 497; Rosenstein 2012: 216. Frank 1914: 203; cf. Errington 1971: 204–5; Walbank 1977a. Heiland 1913: 18–19. Harris 1979: 231, with Livy 42.27.6; cf. Giovannini 1969: 863, 857, 860. Green 1990: 427 points out that, rather than untangle the complex intrigues of the Greeks, the Romans simply believed the man they trusted – Eumenes of Pergamum – when he told them they were gradually being replaced by Perseus as arbiter of eastern affairs.

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passive acquiescence in his activities as proof they had ceded their authority in the East to him, they suddenly became concerned about their reputation (their dignitas, in other words); they feared that Rome would appear a “helpless, pitiful giant” if they failed to act any longer.178 The Romans therefore resented Perseus becoming the “alternative focus for Greek political attention,” and stepped in to reverse the trend.179 Related to this is the thesis that the Romans could not tolerate Perseus behaving like an independent power, equal to themselves – a “peer competitor.”180 This is sometimes couched in terms of foreign clientela: Perseus forgot his place as a dutiful, inferior client, and comported himself as a status equal to Rome.181 Macedon was not, of course, a Roman cliens, but an amicus.182 It is, nevertheless, plausible that the Romans were annoyed by Perseus’ pretensions to equality, which they took steps to correct and recalibrate in several of their other international friendships.183 This was precisely why, before he would consent to talks with Perseus, Marcius insisted that the king come to him as his inferior (minor), and demanded hostages – a tangible demonstration to Rome’s allies that the king did not have equal status (pari dignitate) with Rome.184 Neither of these theories – that the Romans resented being replaced as the focus of the Greeks’ political attention, and that they needed to remind 178

179

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181 182 183

184

Gruen 1984: 418, with Livy 42.13.10 (“Since [Perseus] did these things with the Romans’ permission and silence, and he saw that Greece had been given to him by them …,” haec cum uobis quiescentibus et patientibus fecerit et concessam sibi Graeciam esse a uobis uideat …). Note how damaging Eumenes’ criticism of Roman inaction is to causal explanations for the Third Macedonian War based in Roman aggression, which assume a high level of Roman interference and interventionism in the East. As Gruen points out, it is to be preferred to the analysis of App. Mac. 11.1, where it is asserted that the Romans are hated because of the actions of their generals. The passage is probably annalistic: Mastrocinque 1975/6; contra Meloni 1955: 119–21: anti-Roman Greek source. Derow 1989: 303 and 2003: 67, followed by Eckstein 2010: 241 and 2013: 89; cf. Briscoe 2012: 14; Rosenstein 2012: 218; Waterfield 2014: 176. Eckstein 2010: 241 and 2013: 89; cf. Rosenstein 2012: 217; Waterfield 2014: 175; and earlier, Pareti 1953: 43 (reduced to a secondary power, Macedon was now flourishing economically and demographically, with a young, vigorous king on the throne with a social policy opposed to Roman interests); Meloni 1953: 190 (Perseus’ mistake was twofold: he forged an independent foreign policy designed to recalibrate the balance of power in the East to his advantage, and he raised his kingdom to the status of a first-tier power both economically and militarily). Errington 1971: 212; Walbank 1977a: 93–4. Burton 2003 and 2011; cf. Walbank 1977a: 93: Perseus “did not know his place as an amicus.” E.g. with Pergamum and Rhodes after the war with Perseus (Burton 2011: 278–99, and below, Chapter 7, pp. 178–82). Note that Livy does not assimilate this inferior status to clientela. For him, there is no contradiction between Macedon’s inferior status and its standing as an amicus of Rome, or between Perseus’ inferiority and his status as a personal amicus and hospes of Marcius (Livy 42.38.9). When the two men meet at the Peneus river, after establishing Perseus’ inferior status, they greet each other hospitably and warmly (hospitalis ac benigna: Livy 42.39.8).

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a status inferior of his proper place in their relationship  – are inherently implausible in and of themselves as causes of the Third Macedonian War. But they are less able to account for the timing of the Roman decision to declare war, or the significant delays in mobilizing and launching the Roman war machine.185 The Romans surely knew that Perseus had been steadily chipping away at their authority in the East throughout the 170s, long before Eumenes brought it to their attention; the mild rebuke to Rhodes for helping Perseus in 177 is enough to show that. They also knew about Perseus’ interventions in the debt crises in Aetolia, Thessaly, and Perrhaebia in the early 170s, and his attempt at rapprochement with Achaea in 175, for they tried to counter the former with their own intervention in 173,186 and the Achaean debate over the latter was a matter of public record as early as 175/ 4, when Callicrates dissuaded the League from détente with Macedon, for which the Romans later commended the League.187 The Romans were also well aware that Perseus was behaving like an independent Hellenistic king of old as far back as 177, when the Dardani alleged before the senate that Perseus was involved in the Bastarnian attacks on their lands, and, of course, his dynastic marriages in 178 were no secret. The Romans would also surely have heard about Perseus’ conquest of Dolopia, immediately followed by his march through Greece to Delphi in 175, with an army of perhaps 43,000 men at his back.188 In short, the Roman resentment and status-adjustment causal theories cannot account for the timing of Rome’s reaction to Perseus’ activities. They knew his status was rising in the Greek East throughout the 170s, but instead of taking any action to adjust it downward, let their resentment (if resentment there was) fester for a long time before taking any action. (iii) Systemic Theories Neither purely defensive/preventive nor aggressive theories suffice to explain both the motivation behind and timing of the Roman declaration 185

186 187 188

As has been seen (above, 112 and Chapter 4, p. 76), despite Livy’s insistence that war had been decided in early 172, the senate refused to declare Macedonia a province in that year, and by the beginning of consular 171, Roman military preparations for the war were still incomplete. Harris 1979: 229 seems to accept Livy’s thesis since he argues that Appian’s evidence (Mac. 11.3) that the senate was dismissive of Eumenes and his congeries of pretexts “implies perhaps correctly that [the senate] had in effect already decided on war.” This assumes that the senate was unable to come up with any pretexts of its own until Eumenes pointed the way, but this is unlikely (below). Livy 42.5.7–12. Livy 41.22.5–24; 42.6.1–2, and above, pp. 94–6 and Chapter 4, p. 61. App. Mac. 11.1 says the Romans knew about Macedon’s military buildup as early as the return of the embassy from the Dardanians and Macedonia in 175: above, Chapter 4, p. 64.

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of war on Perseus. Some modern scholars have therefore turned to modern theories that may be broadly labeled “systemic,” in that agency is attributed to unseen social and political forces rather than individuals. The earliest such theory, first suggested by Mommsen, stresses the economic dimension of the antagonism between Macedon and Rome.189 In its fully developed form, the theory proposes that one of the side-effects of the preponderance of Roman power in the East was the polarization of the rich and the poor in the Greek city-states, largely as a result of the well-known Roman preference for aristocratic over democratic governments. The social revolutions in the city-states in the 170s, several of them supported by Perseus, “the red king,”190 eventually drew negative Roman attention to the situation in the East. Alfredo Passerini and Michael Rostovtzeff put this situation in the context of a middle Hellenistic decline and eventual disappearance of the Greek middle class (“moderate democrats” in Passerini’s formulation, “the bourgeoisie” in Rostovtzeff’s), and an increasing wealth gap between rich and poor, largely as a result of the economic uncertainty generated by continuous warfare and revolution.191 Adalberto Giovannini argued that the economic problems intensified around 173, which explains the timing of the Roman intervention against Perseus.192 But even Passerini recognized the problem with his thesis that eventually became fatal to it: the Romans did not necessarily support the landowning classes against the poor in all cases.193 Their solution for the Thessalian and Perrhaebian debt crises, for example, was to cancel some debts, expand the schedules for repayment, and declare illegal the high interest rates charged by creditors.194 The other side of the coin, and a good counter to the “red king” thesis, is that Perseus’ promise to return the fugitive Achaean slaves in exchange for the League lifting the ban on Macedonians entering their territory could only have benefitted the slaveowning class of the Achaean League.195 The notion that Greek economic problems divided Greek support for Rome and Perseus along class lines, 189 190 191

192 193

194 195

Mommsen 1856: 738–9; cf. Pais 1926: 554–5. Bickermann 1953: 500. Passerini 1933:  324–35; Rostovtzeff 1941:  603–30, esp.  617–18, 621–2, 625–6, 762–3 (cf., earlier, Frank 1914: 201–3), followed by Bickermann 1953: 494, 500; Meloni 1953: 119, 141–5; Will 1967: 218; Giovannini 1969: 860. Giovannini 1969: 860. Passerini 1933:  326 (dismissed by Giovannini 1969:  869 n.  2); cf. Rostovtzeff 1941:  612. See the extensive critiques by Gruen 1976 (with earlier literature listed at 48–9 nn. 1–4); Mendels 1978; cf. Walbank 1977a: 87. Livy 42.5.7–10; discussion: Gruen 1976: 39–40. Gruen 1976: 33–4, with Livy 41.23.4.

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and thus contributed to the outbreak of the Third Macedonian War, is therefore deeply problematic. The social revolution thesis may, however, contain a more plausible systemic explanation. There can be no denying that the fact of Roman hegemony in the East caused political polarization within the city-states. Polybius carefully documented not just the complex internal divisions around the Roman question within his own Achaean League, but also in Epirus, Boeotia, and elsewhere on the eve of the Third Macedonian War.196 The causes of this polarization are complex, but the psychology of the imperial relationship is probably among the most important. The exercise of imperial power, whether soft or hard, tends to create collaborators (less generously, flatterers) and resisters (less generously, subversives). Flamininus intuited this dynamic when taking leave of the Greeks in 194, warning them to preserve consensus lest seditious plotters divide the community, opening the door for kings and tyrants to deprive them of their freedom, that is, to disrupt and overthrow Roman hegemony.197 With their victories over Philip V and Antiochus, the Romans had created a unipolar Mediterranean system, intensifying their hold over the East, or at least depriving lesser states of viable system competitors to turn to as alternatives to Rome.198 As recent history has shown, lesser states, even allied and friendly ones, tend to chafe under a system dominated by a single superpower, even one that exercises its imperial power as lightly as the United States does on most of the rest of the world. The discontent of lesser powers, or at least significant factions within them, only intensifies when the hegemon is seen to “throw its weight around,” yielding to the “hegemon’s temptation” to employ a harsh assertiveness in dealing with other states, whether friends or foes.199 In the early 1970s, Leo Raditsa developed an interesting psychological explanation for the Third Macedonian War based precisely on this dynamic. Starting with Mommsen’s idea that the Romans declared war on Perseus because he decided to turn Macedon’s formal sovereignty into political reality,200 Raditsa noted that in the zero-sum atmosphere created by Roman supremacy, any independent action could only be construed as rebellious hostility toward and defiance of Rome. Large numbers of the Greek and Macedonian populations unconsciously and independently 196 197 198 199 200

The evidence is conveniently gathered by Deininger 1971: 135–91. Livy 34.49.8–11, quoted above, Chapter 2, p. 35. Eckstein 2006: 1–2, 306, 314, and 2008: 1, 25–7, 336–81. Eckstein 2010: 242–3 and 2013: 90, following Layne 1993: 28. Mommsen 1856: 739.

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thought this way because the psychology of the imperial relationship was the same everywhere. Roman unipolarity rigidified and simplified political behavior, creating “a situation of increased intolerance to sovereignty, to independent movement and initiative and therefore of increasing instability.” “It seems to have been a time,” Raditsa concludes, “in which it was difficult to be one thing without being against another.”201 Once again, there are too many problems with such arguments for them to be fully compelling. The fact is, Rome did not choose to regard independent behavior, whether by Perseus or anyone else, as defiance or hostility (to say nothing of rebellion) at the time this behavior took place. Perseus’ expulsion of Abrupolis from his kingdom, his campaign against the Dolopians, and his marriage alliances did not provoke Roman reprisals until much later on. The Rhodians’ defiance of Rome’s order to treat their Lycian subjects as allies is another powerful counter-example to Raditsa’s zero-sum thesis.202 And, once again, it was not Rome’s oppressive presence in the East that caused problems in the 170s, but, as Eumenes pointed out, Rome’s absence and lack of interest.203 Despite Raditsa, not even Eumenes’ indictment, which alleged a pattern of independent, and indeed, antiRoman behavior, was enough to spur enough of the senators to take action against the king, at least not right away. One final systemic thesis attempts to account for the timing of Roman intervention against Perseus through a pericentric explanation.204 Arnold Toynbee noted that the Romans sent a remarkable thirteen diplomatic missions to the East between 174 and 171, thus revealing a dynamic in which peripheral states were largely responsible for drawing Rome into deeper involvement, and ultimately, war against Perseus.205 Raditsa notes that the evacuation of Roman troops from the East in 194 “acted paradoxically to incite further involvement in the East,” first against the Aetolian League and Antiochus in 192, and again in 171 against Macedon.206 Eckstein would push this dynamic further back, to 201, when Pergamum, Rhodes, and Athens called on Rome to intervene against Philip V. In 171, Eckstein argues, “Rome was again being drawn into conflict by a second-tier state, just as in 200.”207 The call for intervention against Perseus did not come 201 202 203 204 205 206 207

Raditsa 1972: 578 (citation of Mommsen), 581–2 (whence the quotations). Above, p. 97. Above, pp. 115–16. On pericentric explanations for empire, see Doyle 1986: 25–6. Toynbee 1965: 467 n. 8 (after Colin 1905: 390–1; cf. Pais 1926: 555 n. 44). Raditsa 1972: 585. Eckstein 2010: 242 and 2013: 89.

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until Rome’s collaborator on the periphery, Eumenes, addressed the senate in 172. The pericentric explanation – with the corollary moral implication that the Romans became involved in the war because of its fides towards an amicus – thus accounts for the timing of Rome’s war against Perseus. Such explanations, however, like the metrocentric theories predicated on Rome’s resentment at its auctoritas being replaced by Perseus’ in the East, and its desire to cut a status inferior back down to size, cannot account for Rome’s lack of interest in eastern affairs since at least as far back as the early 170s, when the city-states were in turmoil due to various debt crises. Why did the Romans not intervene in force in 174, when they became diplomatically involved in trying to resolve Aetolian League stasis, or in 175/4, after Callicrates (another collaborator on the periphery) publicized Perseus’ attempt at détente with the Achaean League, and put the worst possible spin on his actions to date? And, of course, why were a majority of senators not convinced of the threat posed by Perseus even after Eumenes’ address in early 172? As usual, pericentric explanations can tell only part of the story.

Conclusion and Synthesis In this chapter I have tried to present the explanations, by both ancient and modern historians, for why and when the Third Macedonian War broke out as dispassionately and agnostically as possible, both for the sake of clarity, and to encourage readers to make up their own minds. It will not have escaped notice, however, where the author’s preferences lie. This is unavoidable for an historian with his own views on the causes of the war with Perseus. The majority of scholars who have given any significant thought to this issue agree, if not on a particular set of causes, then at least on a relatively precise point in time when the war against Perseus suddenly became more likely than before, if not quite inevitable. The tipping point appears to come around 175 or 174. It was the combination of events taking place in these years, and intelligence reaching the Romans about earlier events in 175 and 174 that may have first raised some concerns at least among some Roman senators. The first reports of the military buildup taking place in Macedon reached Rome in early 175, when senatorial ambassadors returned from their mission to Dardania and Macedonia. Later that same year, Perseus, fresh from conquering the Dolopians and accompanied by a large conquering army, suddenly appeared in Greece on his way to Delphi. This was sufficiently disturbing to enough central Greek states for them to send embassies to

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Eumenes, seeking the king’s protection. The choice is significant: Eumenes was an engaged, vigorous, militarily successful king, a viable challenger to Macedonian power. Rome, on the other hand, had proved a passive and indifferent “helpless, pitiful giant.” The next year, 174, the Romans had their first glimpse into the chaos that the debt crisis had unleashed throughout Greece when a senatorial mission intervened in the civil strife in Aetolia. The presence of a Macedonian garrison,208 and the evidence for the massacres that had taken place on its watch, must have been a cause for concern. By late 175/early 174, Callicrates had publicized Perseus’ attempt to interfere in Achaean League policy, and painted his earlier acts in similarly lurid colors, culminating in the charge that Perseus inherited a plan to make war on Rome that his father had been working on for some time. By mid-174, a Macedonian army suddenly appeared in Asia Minor for the first time since 200. By the time the Romans finally turned their attention to the Aetolian debt crisis in the closing months of 174, Perseus’ ambassadors were probably on their way to or at the borders of Achaea, trying to change League policy toward Macedon. Around the same time, the stability of Rome’s arrangements in the eastern Aegean were on the verge of being thrown into turmoil by the outbreak of war that was daily expected between Antiochus IV and an aggressive Egyptian regency government. So by late 174/early 173 at the latest, a growing number of Roman senators had likely become more concerned about the potential destabilization in the East, and the erosion of the Roman position there. The thirteen senatorial embassies sent out to the East between 174 and 171 (compared to the paltry three sent out in the first half of the decade) are a sure indication of this rising concern. The disturbances on the periphery were slowly drawing the Romans into an increasingly dangerous situation there, which if not brought under control diplomatically, could force a potentially costly and bloody military intervention in order to shore up Rome’s hegemonial position. Despite strong diplomatic posturing, including the declaration of Perseus an enemy of Rome (hostis) and breaking off amicitia with him by mid-172, the senate balked at declaring Macedonia a consular prouincia that year, and waited well over a year after the arrival of Eumenes in Rome before declaring war, and mobilizing significant forces and dispatching them across the Adriatic. Why? As is well known from the escalation phase in other Roman wars, Rome was willing to attempt diplomatic solutions up until the very last minute;209 after all, a new major war in the East was an expensive proposition, 208

209

There is no evidence that the garrison installed by Perseus (Livy 41.25.1–6), evidently with Rome’s blessing (Livy 42.42.4), had been ejected before the Roman visit. Burton 2011: 332–53.

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especially after the exhausting ordeals of the recent Spanish and Ligurian wars. Many senators needed convincing that such an effort was worthwhile or even necessary. A new major war in the East might also intensify aristocratic competition over the Macedonian command to an unacceptably high level, resulting in civil disobedience at home – as indeed turned out to be the case. The recent defiance of the senate by the Popillii showed that aristocratic consensus was indeed breaking down. Finally, as Erich Gruen has shown, Roman willingness to pursue a diplomatic solution was especially strong in the run-up to the war against Perseus, since the king had acquiesced to every Roman demand hitherto: “the senate had every reason to expect that he would bow to bullying.”210 That he did not, but strenuously defended his actions first before Marcius Philippus, and then in his follow-up embassy to Rome, rather than do what the Romans demanded – to give satisfaction on all points – was only to be expected for a proud Hellenistic monarch who had dedicated his career to pushing the limits of independent action under Roman hegemony.211 For the Romans, Perseus’ defensiveness smacked of intransigence – further proof of what Eumenes had earlier alleged, and what they feared most: that their auctoritas in the East was rapidly disappearing. Sometime after the noua sapientia debate in March 171, and the departure of the Roman fleet for Apollonia some weeks later, enough of a consensus had emerged among the senators that a Macedonian war was now advisable. The specific arguments used to tip the balance in favor of the war option are, unfortunately, unknown, but presumably many, if not all of them found their way into the Delphic charge-sheet inscription, and the literary-historical tradition. Most of these, as Polybius well knew, and as this chapter has attempted to show, should not be equated to causes of the war with Perseus. These latter were deeply embedded, to a lesser or greater degree on both sides of the conflict, in mental and emotional states, and psychological and culturally determined predispositions. Fear, mistrust, pride, resentment, anger, and perhaps healthy doses of greed, vanity, and glory-seeking as well have all left traces in the historical record of the runup to the Third Macedonian War.

210 211

Gruen 1984: 417. Polyb. 27.6.1–4; Diod. Sic. 30.1; App. Mac. 11.9; Livy 42.48.1–4 (the final Macedonian embassy to Rome; despite Niese 1903: 111 n. 1; Heiland 1913: 38–9; Benecke 1930: 260, Livy 42.36.1–7 is a doublet; see Meloni 1953: 207–8 n. 4, and below, Appendix B). On the senate’s demand, see Livy 42.25.1, 7, “the senate thought it just that satisfaction be given for these injuries,” ad res repetendas, pro his iniuriis satisfieri senatum aequum censere).

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The Third Macedonian War

The First Year: Opening Maneuvers Despite his decade-long charm offensive throughout the Greek world, when the Third Macedonian War began, Perseus stood alone.1 One of his brothers-in-law, Prusias II of Bithynia, opted for neutrality in the upcoming conflict, and the other, Antiochus IV, remained solidly on the side of Rome. Four years of intensive diplomacy and coalition-building by the Romans (along with some robust political intervention, particularly in Boeotia, but also in Aetolia, Thessaly, and Perrhaebia) thoroughly undermined the most significant foreign policy achievement of Perseus’ reign, the recovery of Greek goodwill toward Macedon. Even worse, by the time his envoys returned to Macedonia and reported that war with Rome was now unavoidable, the king had squandered whatever strategic advantages time and advance preparations had initially afforded him. Thanks to the machinations of Marcius Philippus, and Perseus’ apparent eagerness to avoid war at this point, in the diplomatic lull that followed the dispatch of his final embassy to Rome, Roman war preparations had caught up to his own. His prospects for success seemed fairly bleak. By this time, Roman troops were already on the ground in Greece. Cn. Sicinius and his advance force had crossed in January or February 171 (Julian), and were now based at Apollonia.2 2,000 of Sicinius’ men had already been dispatched to hold the forts in Dessaretian and Illyrian territory. The thousand men who had accompanied Marcius’ embassy in September 172 (Julian), had probably stayed on in Greece after he returned

1

2

Mommsen 1856:  741; Niese 1903:  119–23; Colin 1905:  405, 413, 414–15; Kromayer 1907:  236–40; Heiland 1913: 51–6; De Sanctis 1923: 279–88; Pais 1926: 557–8; Benecke 1930: 261; Pareti 1953: 52–5; Meloni 1953: 211–30; Errington 1971: 213–14; McDonald 1981: 246–7; Hammond 1988: 511–17; Helly 2007: 131–64; Waterfield 2014: 182. He was accompanied by 5,000 infantry and 300 cavalry, or a significantly larger number. See Appendix B, n. 22.

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to Rome, and been added to Sicinius’ forces. In early April 171 (Julian), before the final Macedonian embassy was heard, according to Livy’s chronology, the former praetor A. Atilius Serranus crossed to Greece, and was ordered to take 2,000 of Sicinius’ men to garrison Larissa in Thessaly before Perseus could seize this strategically vital stronghold. P. Cornelius Lentulus, a military tribune, was dispatched across the Adriatic as well; he was to take 300 of Sicinius’ men to Thebes to ensure Boeotia stayed loyal to Rome. Marcius was sent back to Greece with perhaps a handful of quinqueremes with the open-ended task of doing whatever seemed most advantageous for Rome.3 After the order was given to Perseus’ envoys to depart Italy within thirty days, Licinius Crassus the consul began to gather the troops. The praetor C.  Lucretius Gallus took forty quinqueremes across from Brundisium,4 and sent his brother to requisition one trireme from Rhegium, two from Locri, and four from Uria.5 When Lucretius arrived at Dyrrhacium, he was joined by seventy-six lemboi supplied by the allies, and then moved on to Cephallenia via Corcyra.6 The praetor arrived at Cephallenia five days later to await the transports and supply ships.7 At this point, according to Polybius, Lucretius sent a letter to the Rhodians asking them to send ships. After vigorous debate before the Rhodian assembly, the people agreed to dispatch five quadriremes. Lucretius warmly greeted the Rhodians, along with the other allied naval contingents (the Carthaginians, the Pontic Heracleotes, the Samians, the Chalcedones), but released them from service since no naval operations were in prospect, the Macedonian fleet remaining docked at Demetrias, and Roman supremacy at sea having been established between the dispatch of the letter to Rhodes and the arrival of the fleet.8 Licinius the 3

4

5 6

7 8

Livy 42.47.9–12. For the chronology, see below, Appendix B. Briscoe 2012: 317–18 quite reasonably suggests that the thousand escorts were added to Sicinius’ forces, that Licinius took his 300 men from Sicinius, and that the best restoration of the number of Marcius’ quinqueremes (missing in the MS) is quinque, which was omitted by haplography with quinqueremibus at §9. In an earlier, annalistic section (Livy 42.27.1), Lucretius was ordered to refit fifty ships. Livy’s comment here (42.48.5) that the consul decided to leave ten ships behind may be his attempt to reconcile the conflicting figures given by his annalistic source and Polybius (so Briscoe 2012: 320). On the other hand, what Livy says at 42.48.5 may have actually happened (so Meloni 1953: 212 n. 1). The reading is uncertain; see Meloni 1953 212 n. 3; Briscoe 2012: 320–1 for discussion. Fifty-four of the lemboi belonged to Genthius whose loyalty was still in doubt (cf. Livy 42.29.11, 45.8); the ships were thus probably taken without his knowledge or approval (Meloni 213 n.  1; Walbank 1979: 337; Gruen 1984: 420 n. 119; Briscoe 2012: 321, against e.g. Niese 1903: 141 n. 3; Thiel 1946: 387–8 n. 728). Livy 42.48.3–10. Polyb. 27.7 (the identity of the other allied contingents – condensed to πάντας by Polybius’ excerptor at 27.7.16  – is supplied by Livy 42.56.7). Walbank 1979:  305 (cf. Waterfield 2014:  194)  suggests Lucretius dismissed the Rhodian ships in a fit of pique, given that the Rhodian Hagesilochus

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consul arrived at Apollonia, probably in late April (Julian), accompanied by perhaps as many as 30,000 men.9 A few days before the consul’s arrival, Perseus met with his advisors to determine his next move. Those in favor of appeasing the Romans with further concessions lost to the “more defiant” (ferocioris) majority in favor of war. The latter pointed out that Perseus would probably be ordered to abandon his kingdom if he surrendered to Rome without a fight. Perseus summoned all his forces to muster at Citium – a total of 43,000 men, half of them phalangites under the command of Hippias of Beroea, the rest auxiliary troops from Thrace and Gaul, Greek mercenaries, and 4,000 cavalry. Although Livy claims that no Macedonian king, except Alexander the Great, had ever possessed an army so large, this one may have been even greater than Alexander’s.10 After hearing that the Romans had begun their eastward march from Apollonia, Perseus met with delegations from the Macedonian cities, which offered funds and grain for the war. The king confidently refused these, citing the full royal stores (but commandeered some wagons from the cities to transport his vast amount of materiel),11 and then set off for Thessaly via Eordaea, heading due west. His plan was to secure the two main passes into Macedonia, the Volustana leading into Perrhaebia, and Tempe leading to the plains of Thessaly.12 He camped at Lake Begorritis before turning

9

10

11

12

had earlier promised forty ships (Polyb. 27.3.3). But Lucretius dismissed all the allied contingents, and there is no indication he was angry with them; to the contrary, he greeted all, including the Rhodians, warmly. The best reason for the dismissal is that given by Livy and Polybius. On Roman naval supremacy having been established at this point, see Hammond 1988: 513. Livy 42.49.10. For the numbers, see Livy 42.31.3, 52.8. The troop numbers are conjectural. The 16,000 Latin allies (Livy 42.31.3) is a MS restoration (Briscoe 2012: 255), while Livy’s “extra strength” Macedonian legions of 6,000 (Livy 42.31.2) may be an error, since Polybius (3.107.11; 6.20.8) says the extra-strength legions of the Hannibalic War period had 5,000 infantry (up from the usual 4,000). De Sanctis 1923: 280; Meloni 1953: 196; Pareti 1953: 46 accept Livy’s figures, which total 29,400 men; Kromayer 1907: 239, 343 rejects Livy’s extra-strength number, estimating 25,000 men; and Briscoe 2012: 255, estimating the number of allies proportionally from Livy’s extra-strength legionary numbers (which he accepts), replaces 16,000 Latin allies with 17,300 (a 15% increase), yielding a total for Licinius’ forces of 30,700. Livy 42.50–1. Briscoe 2012:  326 for the translation of ferocioris at Livy 42.50.4. For the size of Perseus’ army, Livy 42.51.11 (cf. Niese 1903:  119–20; Eckstein 2010:  240 and 2013:  89; Kromayer 1907:  231:  larger than Alexander’s). Walbank 1967:  371–2 compiles the estimates for Alexander’s expeditionary army in the sources, which range from 34,000 to 48,500, not counting later reinforcements. Hammond 1988: 515 believes that the description of the muster at Citium, including the figures, comes from the King’s Journal, and is thus reliable, assuming Polybius and Livy excerpted the information accurately. Hatzopoulos 1996: 114–15 n. 5, 319 emends Titium in the MS to Cyrrus rather than Citium, against all editors (cf. Briscoe 2012: 330, oddly not citing Hatzopoulos here, but a later, derivative work). Livy 42.53.2–4. For the loose dependence of the cities on the Macedonian king, and the significance of this piece of evidence for this, see above, Chapter 1, p. 7. Hammond 1988: 516.

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south into Elimea, crossing the Haliacmon River and marching through the Volustana pass between the Cambunian mountain range and Mt. Olympus (Map 3), and pushed south into Perrhaebia. There, the cities of Tripolis (Azorus, Pythium, and Doliche) (Map 2), despite having furnished hostages to the Roman forces at Larissa, quickly surrendered to the king out of fear. Perseus then received the voluntary surrender of one Perrhaebian city, and took Chyretiae after a brief siege. He was then forced to lay siege to Mylae for four days, before his troops managed to enter the city via the main gate after a careless sally by the townspeople. The city was sacked and reduced to rubble, and all the inhabitants were killed or sold into slavery.13 Perseus then marched east along the Titaresios River to Phalanna, where he made camp before traveling northeast, and arriving the next day at Gyrton in the western foothills of Mt. Ossa.14 Hearing that a Roman legate, T.  Minucius Rufus, along with a Thessalian general called Hippias, had already garrisoned the town, Perseus pressed ahead to Elatia and Gonnus at the eastern end of the Tempe pass.15 Surprised by the king’s unexpected arrival, the towns surrendered to him out of fear. The garrison in Gonnus was strengthened, and a triple ditch and a rampart were built around the town’s perimeter. The army then marched around Mt. Ossa to the southern foothills, and encamped at Sycurium, whence they were sent to gather supplies from the Thessalian countryside to the south.16 Perseus had succeeded in his plan to secure both the Volustana and Tempe passes, through which his armies could now easily be supplied by wagon and ship from Macedonia.17 Meanwhile, the consul Licinius made his way from Apollonia to Larissa via forced marches through Epirus and Athamania, whose difficult terrain considerably delayed the arrival of the legions at Gomphi.18 Here the consul rested his men for a few days before setting off toward Larissa. Three miles distant from there, he pitched his camp at Tripolis, also called Scaea, overlooking the Peneus River.19 Presently joining him there were 13

14 15 16 17 18 19

Livy 42.53.5–54.6; cf. Zon. 9.22.4. The name of the Perrhaebian city that surrendered voluntarily to Perseus has fallen into a lacuna, and the cities of Tripolis have had to be restored from the corrupt MS reading at Livy 42.53.6 (Adzorus, Pytolum et Doscen). See Briscoe 2012: 342–3. On the location of these places, see Helly 2007: 131–2 n. 9 (Gyrton), 198 (Phalanna). On the location of these places, see Briscoe 2012: 346. Livy 42.54.6–11. Hammond 1988: 517. On his route, see Hammond 1988: 513 n. 2; Helly 2007: 145–6. The exact names and location are disputed due to MS corruption. See Briscoe 2012: 349 (against Helly 2007: 148–54).

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King Eumenes of Pergamum and his brother Attalus, accompanied by 4,000 infantry and 1,000 cavalry. The Romans were also joined by auxiliary forces from Apollonia, the Achaean and Aetolian Leagues, and the Thessalians, totaling 100 heavy and 1,500 light infantry, and 1,100 cavalry.20 The Romans also began naval operations in Greece. The Pergamene fleet that brought Eumenes and his brothers Attalus and Athenaeus across the Aegean had put in at Chalcis, where Athenaeus remained with 2,000 infantry while his brothers joined the consul at Tripolis Scaea.21 The praetor C. Lucretius dispatched the fleet under the command of his brother around the Peloponnese to Chalcis, while the praetor himself sailed to Boeotia via the Corinthian Gulf. P. Cornelius Lentulus, the military tribune who had been charged with protecting Boeotia with 300 men, was ordered to break off the siege of Haliartus, which he had apparently undertaken without authorization. The praetor’s brother Marcus brought up from Chalcis 10,000 Roman marines, along with Athenaeus and his 2,000 Pergamene troops, and restarted the blockade of Haliartus in earnest. Marcius Philippus then arrived at Chalcis with his ships, after having captured Alope and attacked Larisa Cremaste in Phthiotic Achaea.22 A  more efficient Roman supply route than the trans-Adriatic one had thus been established. The Roman armies could be supplied at Chalcis by cargo ships sailing south around the Peloponnese, or across the Aegean from ports on the Black Sea.23

The Battle of Callicinus Back in Thessaly, Perseus attempted to lure the Romans away from their base at Tripolis Scaea into the Pelasgian plain by attacking Rome’s Thessalian allies, particularly Pherae.24 When that failed, he allowed his soldiers to feast on the cattle and grain they had plundered from round about. Both king and consul then held war councils with their respective advisors. Perseus was urged 20

21 22 23 24

Livy 42.55. It is unclear in Livy’s text (§8) whether any or all of the Greek contingents assembled at Tripolis Scaea or at Chalcis. My paraphrase is meant to capture this ambiguity. See Briscoe 2012: 349–50. Livy 42.55.8. Livy 42.56.1–7. Hammond 1988: 513. Mommsen 1856: 741–2; Niese 1903: 123–4; Colin 1905: 412; Kromayer 1907: 240–6; Heiland 1913: 56–7; De Sanctis 1923: 288–90; Pais 1926: 558; Benecke 1930: 261–2; Meloni 1953: 223–40; Pareti 1953: 55–8; Errington 1971: 214; McDonald 1981: 247–8; Hammond 1988: 517–19; Derow 1989: 310; Helly 2007: 170–86; Waterfield 2014: 182–3. The Livian MS has Callicinum at Livy 42.58.5, which was emended by Madvig to Callinicum to yield a meaningful Greek toponym (“[the place of the] beautiful victory”). This is unnecessary (so Briscoe 2012: 357–8, whose commentary, however, prints Callinicum ad loc. and “Callinicus” across the top of the right-hand pages between 357 and 371).

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to attack the Roman camp, while the consul was feeling some pressure, particularly from the Pheraeans, to protect allied property by taking to the field. While Licinius was locked in discussions with Eumenes and Attalus, among others, a messenger arrived saying the enemy was at hand with a large column of troops. The order was given to the men to arm themselves, and some cavalry and skirmishers were sent from the camp to harass the king’s column. Perseus halted his march about a mile from the Roman camp, and led an advance force of light infantry and Macedonian and allied cavalry to reconnoiter the Roman position. Having spied the Roman cavalry and light infantry outside the camp, at around 8 o’clock in the morning the king ordered up from the column detachments of Macedonian and allied troops to an amount equal to the number of Romans in the field. The subsequent skirmishing ended in a draw, and Perseus withdrew to Sycurium. For several days afterward, at the same time of day, Perseus marched the twelve miles from Sycurium to the Roman camp and back again, the Roman cavalry and light-armed troops only emerging to attack the retreating Macedonian column. According to Livy, the Macedonian cavalry got the best of these engagements.25 One night, Perseus moved his camp westward to within five miles of the Roman position at Tripolis Scaea, and deployed his army as he had on previous days, but this time at sunrise. The Romans were alarmed by the sudden appearance of large amounts of dust on the plain at such an early hour. Confusion and panic broke out in the camp; the men thought that the entire enemy force was suddenly upon them. Half a mile from the camp, Perseus took up his position on the hill of Callicinus. King Cotys of the Odrysian Thracians was placed in charge of the left wing with his 1,000 cavalry and light-armed skirmishers, while Meno of Antigonea commanded the right with the Macedonian cavalry, aided by Cretan skirmishers under the command of Midon of Beroea. Next to the wings came the royal horsemen and the mixed auxiliary elite cavalry under the commands of Patrocles of Antigonea and Didas, governor of Paeonia. Perseus held the center with the elite cavalry and the Sacred Squadron, behind two divisions of slingers and javelin-throwers under the command of Ion of Thessalonica and a Dolopian leader.26 The consul Licinius drew 25

26

Livy 42.56.8–57.12. The numbers involved in the fighting are uncertain. The hundred cavalry and hundred javelin-throwers sent out by Licinius at Livy 42.57.5 is much smaller than the Roman forces mentioned at 42.57.7, and the numerical equivalents of Livy’s alae, turmae, and cohortes (§§7–8) are unclear. The name of this person is hopelessly corrupt. The agēma (which I have here identified as “elite cavalry”) is probably not to be conflated with the alae sacrae – whatever that was (Livy’s use of the term is a hapax in the extant evidence). Briscoe 2012: 359.

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up his infantry behind the rampart, and sent out his cavalry and lightarmed infantry. On the right, he placed his brother, C. Licinius Crassus, in command of the Italian cavalry, interspersed with the light infantry; on the left was the ex-praetor M. Valerius Laevinus commanding the Greek allied cavalry and light troops; and former consul Q. Mucius Scaevola held command in the center with the Roman and allied select cavalry, including 200 Galatian light horse, and 300 of Eumenes’ Cyrtian skirmishers.27 400 Thessalian horsemen were stationed not far beyond the left wing, and Eumenes and Attalus drew up the Pergamene cavalry between the rampart and the rear line. 28 The two sides clashed. For the Roman side, the shock of the Macedonian attack was overwhelming: First of all the Thracians, little different than wild beasts confined to their cages for a long time and then suddenly released, attacked the Italian cavalry on the right wing with such violent force and with such a great shout that despite their inborn fearlessness and experience in war, they were thrown into utter confusion … Perseus, attacking the center of the column, turned back the Greeks at the first charge. The enemy pressed hard on them as they scattered in retreat.29

The Greeks fled toward the 400 Thessalians and the reserve line of Pergamenes, who absorbed them into their ranks. These then began advancing against the enemy. At this point, with Perseus’ men scattered about the battlefield in pursuit of the fleeing Roman forces, Hippias the Beroean and the Macedonian commander Leonnatus brought up the Macedonian phalanx on their own initiative, hoping to drive the victory home. The king himself hesitated, however, and Evander (the Cretan who allegedly ambushed Eumenes at Delphi), seeing the Roman infantry standards approaching, persuaded the king to call off the battle.30 It was a clear 27

28

29

30

Briscoe 2012: 359 places the Roman cavalry, not otherwise mentioned in Livy’s description of the Roman deployment, in the center with the “allied select cavalry” (Briscoe’s translation of Livy’s delectis equitibus extraordinariis at 42.58.13). Livy 42.58. Hammond 1988: 518 n. 1 believes that the contingents and commanders come from the King’s Journals. Livy 42.59.1–4. Because of a fairly substantial lacuna and a corrupted text at Livy 42.59.3, the account of the opening melée is lost. The Greek allied cavalry is in the center in this passage, although earlier Livy had placed them on the left (42.58.12). Briscoe 2012: 362 assumes Livy has made a mistake, but the delectis equitibus extraordinariis Livy places in the center (42.58.13) may have included some elite Greek units. Doubted by Hammond 1988:  518 n.  1, who believes that Perseus independently and prudently decided to keep his powder dry rather than risk the integrity of his phalanx by besieging a fortified camp. Waterfield 2014: 186 oddly believes that Perseus “had offered [a single decisive battle] at Callinicus [sic] in 170 [sic] but had been refused.”

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victory for the Macedonians. On the Roman side, 200 cavalry and 2,000 infantry were lost, and 600 infantry were captured, while Perseus lost just 20 cavalry and 40 infantry.31 The Romans, depressed and fearful of a Macedonian attack, retreated into their camp. Eumenes advised shifting camp to the north bank of the Peneus River. Licinius worried about appearing weak and losing face, and was unwilling to abandon Larissa since doing so would be tantamount to abandoning the entire Thessalian plain (and its crops) to Perseus. In the end, however, reason prevailed, and the Romans crossed the Peneus in the dead of night. After the camp was safely established, Licinius held a war council where all the chiefs of the allied contingents placed the blame for their defeat squarely on the Aetolians, who, they said, were the first to panic and flee, followed by the rest of the Greek contingents. Two former Aetolian League stratēgoi, Nicander and Lochagus, along with an Aetolian called Hippolochus and two others, who had been the first to turn tail, were accused by their political rival Lyciscus, stripped of command, and dispatched under guard to Rome. The Thessalians, by contrast, were praised by Licinius before the assembled troops, and their leaders rewarded with gifts for the uirtus they displayed in battle.32 Meanwhile, the triumphant Macedonian side returned to its camp after the battle, the Thracians singing songs and bearing the severed heads of their enemies. The next day, when Perseus rode up to the Romans’ previous position, on the south bank of the Peneus, he realized he had made two mistakes: the first was not pressing his advantage the day before in battle, and the second, greater mistake was his failure to be vigilant during the previous night, for using only his light troops he could have inflicted mass slaughter on the Romans as they tried to get across the river. Returning to camp at Sycurium, Perseus set about dividing the spoils. He distributed horses, finely wrought arms, and prisoners to some of his men, and to the rest over 1,500 shields, 1,000 coats of mail and breastplates, and a larger number of helmets, swords, and missiles. Perseus addressed his men, predicting ultimate victory, the recent battle being but a foretaste of the war’s 31

32

Livy 42.59–60.1; cf. Enn. Ann. 17.429–33 W (431–4 Sk.); Just. Epit. 33.1.4; Zon. 9.22.4; Eutrop. 4.6.3; Oros. 4.20.37. Plut. Aem. 9.2 records 2,500 Roman dead, and at Mor. 197F, 2,800 dead and captured, which matches Livy’s figures. Livy 42.60.3–4, 7–10. Polybius (27.15.14) says the Aetolian leaders were falsely accused by the proRoman Lyciscus. Livy, “by using oratio obliqua … reflects Polybius’ scepticism” (Briscoe 2012: 365). Appian (Mac. 12)  has Licinius himself lay the false charges against the Aetolians and the other Greeks.

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outcome. He then shifted his camp to Mopselus, a hill above the Tempe pass, lying halfway between Gonnus and Larissa.33 The Romans now shifted their camp away from the bank of the Peneus to safer ground, where they were met by Misacenes, son of the Numidian king Massinissa, who delivered a particularly welcome gift:  twenty-two elephants, along with a thousand infantry and a thousand cavalry.34 Shortly afterward, Perseus’ envoys Pantauchus, son of Balacrus, and Midon of Beroea, arrived at the Roman camp to discuss peace on the same terms that had been imposed on Philip V in 196, that is, the king offered to pay a 1,000-talent indemnity and give up those places Philip had been told to relinquish.35 Such a comparatively minor loss as they had suffered at Callicinus, however, only increased the Romans’ determination to prevail. This was not 205, when the Romans, unable to sustain a war on four fronts, were forced to sign the unsatisfactory Peace of Phoenice with Perseus’ father Philip V. The consul’s response – that the king must surrender unconditionally to the discretion of the senate – mystified some, and frightened others, not least, we are told, Perseus himself. The king attempted to bribe the Romans into softening their position by raising the proffered indemnity by ever greater amounts, but to no avail. Perseus gave up and withdrew to his previous camp at Sycurium.36 As was seen in Chapter 5, throughout the Polybian and Polybian-derived ancient accounts of Perseus’ reign, there always lurks in the background an implicit, negative contrast between the king and his father, Philip V. This appears no more strongly than it does here, where Perseus’ timidity and failure to press his strategic advantage is implicitly contrasted with Philip’s well-known boldness and tenacity. Whereas Philip’s early successes in the Social War proved his dashing, Alexander-like daring and capability as a commander,37 Perseus’ hesitation and failure to follow up his initial success at Callicinus showed the opposite. Whereas Philip’s wolf-like survival of a blockade of his forces in winter 201/0 at Bargylia in Asia Minor showed his vigor and resourcefulness in adversity,38 Perseus, by contrast, was unwilling, 33

34 35

36 37

38

Livy 42.60.5–6, 61. For the place names and location in a corrupt portion of the MS, see Helly 2007: 134, 189–91; Briscoe 2012: 367. Livy 42.62.1–2. The spelling of the Numidian’s name is uncertain (Briscoe 2012: 249). Appian (Mac. 12)  exaggerates, claiming that Perseus offered to make concessions his father had refused (πολλὰ δώσειν ὑπισχνεῖτο ὧν ὁ πατὴρ Φίλιππος οὐ συνεχώρει) – unless he is alluding to the fact that Perseus offered repeatedly to raise the indemnity amount (below). Few will agree with Appian (Mac. 12) that Perseus tried to negotiate as a test of or a joke on the consul. Polyb. 27.8; cf. Livy 42.62.3–15; Just. Epit. 33.1.5; Eutrop. 4.6.3. On Philip’s character and reputation at the outset of his reign, see Polyb. 4.77.1–3; 5.102.1; 7.11.1–9, 14.4. Polyb. 16.24, 28, with discussion at Eckstein 1995: 226–7.

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even in victory, to risk his considerable resources any further. Perseus was no Philip V.39 As the previous chapter also showed, however, this could be partly illusory, a function of Polybius’ thesis that Philip carefully planned the war that Perseus incompetently lost. But if Perseus’ squandering of his initial strategic advantage, by trying to make peace long after this was possible, proved to the satisfaction of Polybius and others the king’s lack of selfconfidence and strategic insight, his loss of nerve at Callicinus must have removed all doubt.40 At Callicinus, Perseus made his second grave strategic error of the war. If too many more followed, disaster would surely ensue.

The Campaigns in Boeotia and Thessaly, and the End of the First Year of the War If Perseus thought that halting the Battle of Callicinus and offering peace terms to the Romans would gain him allies (Livy 42.59.10), he was wrong.41 he was wrong. Sympathy he certainly gained. As Polybius explains, using the metaphor of a boxing match, human nature being what it is (cf. 27.9.5, 10.5: φύσει), the crowd always unthinkingly favors an underdog when he takes on a seemingly invincible champion. Their support grows stronger if the underdog can score a blow or two off his stronger opponent.42 The crowd even begins to taunt and make fun of the former champion. So it was after Callicinus: “when after the victory of the Macedonians,” the historian writes, “the report of the cavalry battle was spread throughout Greece, the disposition of the majority toward Perseus, which hitherto had been for the most part concealed, blazed forth like fire.”43 39

40

41

42 43

Mommsen 1856: 742: “allein Perseus war ein guter Soldat; aber kein Feldherr wie sein Vater.” Cf. McDonald 1981: 248: “we may regard him as a sound strategist but indeterminate in the field,” 251, 254: “a good soldier, slow but steady, and consistent in his policy [to produce a stalemate]”; Eckstein 1995: 261: “Perseus is … an altogether less vigorous figure than Philip.” Hammond 1988: 518 believes that Perseus’ decision to hold back his phalanx was strategically prudent: he was unwilling to risk his “once-for-all army, irreplaceable if it suffered a severe defeat” (515) on a siege of the Roman fortified camp (cf. Kromayer 1907: 245 “Ein Kampf auch mit einem stark erschütterten Gegner unter dem Schutz seiner Wälle und im Bereich der feindlichen Geschosse bot wenig Aussicht und viel Gefahr eines kräftigen Rückschlages”). Per contra Heiland 1913: 57 (on Perseus’ “Unentschossenheit, Warten und Zögern”). Mommsen 1856: 742; Niese 1903: 124–8; Kromayer 1907: 246–54; Heiland 1913: 58–9; De Sanctis 1923: 290–2; Pais 1926: 558; Benecke 1930: 262–4; Pareti 1953: 58–64; Meloni 1953: 240–51; Derow 1989: 310–11; Hammond 1988: 519–20; Helly 2007: 194–208; Waterfield 2014: 183. Polyb. 27.9–10. Livy’s summary of this passage (42.63.1–2) is a crude approximation at best. ὅτι τῆς κατὰ τὴν ἱππομαχίαν φήμης μετὰ τὴν νίκην τῶν Μακεδόνων εἰς τὴν Ἑλλάδα διαγγελθείσης ἐξέλαμψε καθαπερεὶ πῦρ ἡ τῶν πολλῶν πρὸς τὸν Περσέα διάθεσις, τὸν πρὸ τούτου χρόνον ἐπικρυπτομένων τῶν πλείστων (Polyb. 27.9.1).

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As events unfolded in Thessaly, the praetor Lucretius Gallus pursued operations in Boeotia, continuing the siege of Haliartus with the greatest violence (summa ui), according to Livy, while the men of the town, aided only by some young men from Coronea, mounted a spirited defense. When parts of the city walls collapsed, the defenders simply rebuilt them from the rubble, and mounted bold sallies against the siege works, especially the battering ram, which they weighed down with lead and other materials whenever and wherever it threatened the walls. Lucretius countered by having the scaling ladders brought up against the walls at all points except the portion where the swampy shore of Lake Copaïs girded the city. When two towers and the wall between them collapsed, the praetor brought up 2,000 picked men to scale the rubble, but those inside rallied to oppose them, heaving bundles of dry kindling onto the debris and threatening to set it all alight, so that behind this fiery barrier they could construct a new inner wall. A heavy rainstorm intervened, however, and the townspeople now had to defend as best they could the collapsed section of wall against the Romans, who were pulling the faggots aside, scrambling over the broken masonry, and entering the town. Meanwhile, those on the ladders successfully scaled the other sections of the wall, which were now almost completely denuded of defenders since all were now feverishly trying to repair the collapsed portion. As they entered the town, the Romans cut down the old and young men. In the chaos that followed, 2,500 armed defenders managed to flee to the acropolis. Seeing that further resistance was hopeless, they surrendered the next day, and were promptly sold into slavery. Haliartus itself ceased to exist:  the city was looted and razed to the ground. Lucretius marched thence to Thisbe, where he took over the city, overthrew the government favorable to Perseus, and installed the proRoman faction in its place. The praetor also confiscated and sold at auction the estates and slaves (and perhaps the wives and children as well) of the leaders of the pro-Macedonian party. He then returned to the fleet.44 Meanwhile, when it was reported to Perseus that the Romans had reaped the grain of the fields surrounding their camp north of the Peneus, and that the camp itself was full of dry straw from the husking of the grain, the king decided that the conditions there were right for a conflagration. The 44

Livy 42.63.3–12; cf. Strabo 9.2.30 (411C); Paus. 9.32.5; 10.35.2. On Thisbe (the MS reads Thebas, an error Livy transmitted from his copy of Polybius, in which Θίσβας will have already been corrupted into Θήβας at the point corresponding to Livy 42.63.12; see above, Chapter 4, n. 86), see also Syll.3 646, a senatus consultum resolving some outstanding issues arising from Lucretius’ arrangements for the city (his attack is mentioned at ll. 22–4). This and similar decrees relating to Coronea and Abdera are discussed in the next section and in Appendix C.

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Macedonians’ approach was anything but stealthy, however: they caused a massive uproar and panic by attacking the outposts, thus alerting the Romans in the camp to their presence. The Romans were able to arm and man the ramparts and the gates in plenty of time before the Macedonians arrived. Perseus ordered the retreat. Out of shame over the botched operation, says Livy, the king insisted on being the last to withdraw, knowing full well that he would have to bear the brunt of any Roman attacks on the rear of the column. He sent the baggage and the infantry ahead while he stayed behind with the cavalry until the rest were safely away. After some skirmishing with the pursuing Roman light troops, the Macedonians got safely back to their camp at Sycurium.45 The Romans now shifted their position to Crannon, south of the Peneus but a little farther west of their original position at Tripolis Scaea. Although they initially felt safe at this distance, and did not have to worry about supplies since they were surrounded by abundant grain ready for harvesting, they were surprised at dawn one morning by the sudden appearance of the Macedonian cavalry and light troops in command of the heights around Crannon. When the Romans could not be enticed into battle, Perseus ordered the infantry, which had been stationed in a nearby plain, to return to the Macedonian camp at Sycurium, while he remained behind to see if the Romans would react. Some Roman cavalry did come out and followed at a cautious distance while Perseus withdrew, but no fighting took place since Perseus’ men kept formation and there were no stragglers to pick off.46 The king then moved his camp again to Mopselus, closer to the Roman position, while the Romans, after stripping the territory around Crannon of all its grain, moved on to Phalanna. Upon being informed by a deserter that the Romans were scattered about everywhere, reaping the harvest without armed guards, Perseus took a force of cavalry and 2,000 mixed Thracian and Cretan skirmishers on a quick march to the fields surrounding Phalanna. He captured around 600 men and almost a thousand wagons, some of them fully loaded with grain, together with their teams. He set 300 Cretans to guard the booty, while he himself gathered the cavalry and the rest of the infantry together to lead an attack on the closest Roman guard force. A certain L. Pompeius, the military tribune in charge of the 800-strong guard force, withdrew to a nearby hill, and formed his men 45

46

Livy 42.64.1–6. A fragment of Appian (Mac. 13), describing the Romans threshing grain in their camp and Perseus doing the same in the fields, probably belongs in this context. Livy 42.64.7–10.

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into a tightly packed circle. Behind the relative safety of their close-packed shields, they managed to fend off most of the incoming missiles from the Macedonians surrounding the hill, but endured many direct hits whenever they broke rank to try to push back against those of the enemy who were now attempting to scale the hill. Perseus tried to convince the beleaguered guardsmen to surrender, to no avail.47 Then the tide turned. When some of the foragers reported to the consul what was going on, he quickly assembled the cavalry and Roman and allied light infantry, attaching to them the recently arrived Numidian troops and elephants, and marched out of the camp against the Macedonians, leaving orders for the legions to assemble and follow. Perseus awaited the enemy and sent orders for the phalanx to be brought up. Licinius, protected on his flanks by Eumenes, Attalus, and Misacenes, joined battle straightaway. The Macedonians stood their ground initially, but after sustaining the loss of 300 infantry and 24 of the best horsemen of the Sacred Squadron, including their commander, they began to retreat.48 Meanwhile, tragedy soon devolved into farce: The phalanx, summoned by an alarmed messenger, was hastily being led up when it first encountered in the narrows the column of prisoners, and became entangled with the wagons loaded with grain. Then there was great irritation on both sides, with no one waiting until somehow the column could be disentangled, but the armed men were hurling headlong down the steep slope the wagons – for the road could not otherwise be cleared – while the pack-animals, as they were being goaded, were raging against the crowd. Hardly had they disentangled themselves from the disordered column of prisoners when they ran into the royal column and the defeated cavalry. Then indeed the shouting of men ordering retreat also created panic almost similar to complete disaster.49

The consul, satisfied with his modest success, returned to camp. On the Macedonian side, 8,000 men were killed, 2,800 were taken prisoner, and 27 military standards were captured; on the Roman side, over 4,300 men and 5 standards were lost.50 47

48 49 50

Livy 42.65.1–11. Polyb. 27.11, a description of a new weapon, the kestros, or sling-dart, which was an innovation of this war and used to great effect against Pompeius and his men, roughly corresponds to §§9–10 of the Livian passage, but the source of Polyb. 27.11, Suda s.u. κέστρος, may not reproduce Polybius’ ipsissima uerba, which Livy apparently misunderstood or abbreviated. Discussion: Walbank 1979: 308–10; Briscoe 2012: 379–80. L. Pompeius, incidentally, is the earliest known possessor of that famed gentilician name in the historical record. Livy 42.65.12–66.5. Livy 42.66.6–8. Livy 42.66.9–10.

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Such was the Battle of Crannon  – if indeed it be worthy of such a name. Livy certainly had his doubts: he distances himself from those writers, most likely Roman annalists, who proclaim, in stentorian tones, that “a great battle was fought that day.”51 Legion had yet to come to grips with phalanx, and so it was an inevitably small affair, and a large number of the casualties must have fallen in the confusion in the narrows. The result, nevertheless, buoyed the Romans’ spirits after their pitiful performance at Callicinus. And while perhaps not in the category of a major error, Perseus’ generalship at Crannon appeared erratic at best, and at worst, incompetent, perhaps betraying his lack of experience or strategic nous. The campaign of 171 wound down with Perseus abandoning Mopselus, garrisoning Gonnus, and returning to Macedonia. He dismissed Cotys with honorable gifts when it was reported that a Thracian chieftain along with Corragus, Eumenes of Pergamum’s governor in the Chersonese and southeastern Thrace, had attacked and seized a portion of Cotys’ territory.52 During the winter, Timotheus, one of Perseus’ governors, was to try to entice, from his base at Phila, the peoples of the Magnesian coastline south of the Peneus to join the Macedonians. Before retiring for the winter, the consul Licinius took and sacked Malloea in Perrhaebia; recovered Tripolis and the rest of that region; and in Macedonian-held Phthiotic Achaea pressed on with the Roman attack on Larisa Cremaste, destroyed Pteleum, and received the surrender of Antron. The consul also dismissed Eumenes and Attalus, and assigned Misacenes and his men winter quarters in the Thessalian towns near Larissa. Roman troops were scattered throughout Thessaly for the winter near the cities, while 2,000 legionaries were sent with Licinius’ legate Q.  Mucius Scaevola to hold Ambracia. The consul himself, debating whether to attack the Macedonian fleet’s base at Demetrias before the campaigning season was over, was summoned by the Thebans, who currently were being harassed by the people of Coronea, the last remaining pro-Macedonian stronghold in Boeotia. The consul decided to accept the Thebans’ invitation rather than attack Demetrias since it was preferable to winter in Boeotia rather than Magnesia.53 *   *   *

51 52 53

Sunt qui eo die magno proelio pugnatum auctores sint (42.66.9). A fragment of Polybius praising Cotys (27.12) may have been part of his lost narrative of this event. Livy 42.67; cf. Zon. 9.22.4 (“Crassus … captured a few towns, and some of these he razed to the ground and sold the captives into slavery,” ὁ Κράσσος … ἔστι δ᾿ ἃς ἐχειρώσατο καί τινας κατασκάψας τοὺς ἁλόντας ἀπέδοτο). Errington 1974: 83–5 is probably correct to date the fall of

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For both sides, the first year of the war yielded mixed results. Perseus, despite being able to steal a march or two on the Romans, seizing the two main passes into Macedonia and taking control of parts of Perrhaebia and Thessaly well ahead of the enemy, missed at least two spectacular opportunities to deliver a morale-crushing blow to Roman arms early on in the piece. It is possible that the king was still hoping for peace;54 after all, he offered everything short of full deditio after Callicinus to secure it. But this was a later decision. Immediately after the victory, he promised his men that their success in the cavalry battle was but a foretaste of the victory to come.55 What stands out more starkly from the accounts of the first year of the war is a pattern of strategic incompetence and indecisiveness on the part of the king, whether one thinks of his hesitation to deploy his phalanx at Callicinus, his failure to prevent the Romans from shifting their camp beyond his reach in the aftermath, his failed surprise attack on the Roman camp at Crannon, and the farcical movement of his phalanx, prisoners, and supplies after the Battle of Crannon. The Romans’ lack of success in the first year of the war has been variously put down to Licinius Crassus’ lack of familiarity with the terrain,56 and the rawness of the Roman legionary recruits, which bears some relation to the difficulties of conducting the levy for the war discussed earlier.57 Because Perseus had effectively established what would be the theater of conflict (Perrhaebia and Thessaly) well in advance of the Roman arrival in central Greece, Licinius was unable to bring about a decisive battle on ground of his own choosing. It would have been unwise for him to test his tironem exercitum against Perseus’ battle-hardened phalangites on ground of the king’s choosing, especially after an exhausting forced march from Illyria to Thessaly through the rough country of Epirus and Athamania.58 This, in part, accounts for Licinius’ seeming lack of initiative and failure to accomplish much once he arrived in central Greece. What is truly puzzling about Roman strategy in the first year of the war, however, is their failure to use their fleet more effectively. This was,

54 55 56 57

58

Coronea to autumn 171 (contra Meloni 1953: 250 and n. 2 (with earlier literature there cited): winter). See further, Appendix C. Livy’s epitomator erroneously calls Licinius a proconsul at Per. 43. This will have been either a slip on the epitomator’s part (so Errington 1974: 84 n. 4), an error made by Livy himself, or by his source, Polybius. For the last possibility, see below, n. 82. So Meloni 1953: 251. Livy 42.61.4–8. Benecke 1930: 263. Benecke 1930: 261; Hammond 1988: 515. On the problems with the levy, see above, p. 114 and Chapter 5, p. 99. Benecke 1930: 263; Meloni 1953: 251. Livy 42.55.3 (tironem exercitum).

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after all, the Roman military arm whose supremacy was unchallenged in the East in 171. The fleet could have provided a valuable distraction in Perseus’ rear by attacking the Magnesian coastline of Thessaly, or indeed, raiding the Pierian plain or the Lower Macedonian heartland of coastal Bottia and Amphaxitis, which must have been poorly defended if the king had his entire army with him. It was apparently deemed more important to use the fleet to secure sea-borne supply routes by clearing out the last remaining southernmost pockets of Macedonian control and influence in Boeotia and around the Malian Gulf. Sheer greed for plunder may also have played a role as well. As has been seen, the praetor in charge of the fleet, C. Lentulus, ordered the military tribune Cornelius Lentulus to stop the siege of Haliartus in Boeotia so that he himself could bring 12,000 marines in to do the job properly. As will be seen shortly, the Boeotians, as well as Rome’s friends and allies, were to suffer terribly at the hands of Roman troops and their commanders over the winter 171/0. In sum, a mixture of lack of preparedness, an inexperienced army, unfamiliarity with the terrain, a conservative strategy, especially on sea, and a burgeoning cruelty and greed accounts for the Roman performance in the first year of the war.

The Second Year Surviving testimony of the events of 17059 is a stark reminder of just how precarious is the state of our knowledge for the history of mid-Republican Rome. Our fullest surviving account is book 43 of Livy, but in the sole surviving MS of books 41–45, a massive lacuna opens up after 43.3.7 as a result of a loss of four quaternions of text – the equivalent of around thirty-five pages of modern printed text. A significant proportion of Res Macedoniae for 170 are missing, and must be reconstructed from scattered bits and pieces of evidence drawn from Polybius, Diodorus, Plutarch, the Livian Periocha of book 43, and from Livy’s later compilers and epitomators. When Livy’s text resumes, one of the first things we learn about the Roman campaigns of late 171 and 170 in Greece is the extraordinary greed and cruelty of the Roman commanders.60 After Coronea surrendered to 59

60

Mommsen 1856: 742–4; Niese 1903: 128–44; Colin 1905: 411, 414, 415–30; Kromayer 1907: 255–67; Heiland 1913: 58–62; De Sanctis 1923: 292–300; Pais 1926: 558–60; Benecke 1930: 264; Meloni 1953: 251–84; Pareti 1953: 64–9; Errington 1971: 214–19; McDonald 1981: 248–9; Hammond 1988: 520–3; Derow 1989: 311–12; Waterfield 2014: 183–6. Crudelius auariusque in Graecia bellatum et ab consule Licinio et ab Lucretio praetore erat (“The war in Greece was fought with great cruelty and greed by the consul Licinius and Lucretius the praetor”; Livy 43.4.5, cf. 11). Their conduct was probably a function of the frustrations and losses of the

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Licinius in autumn 171, the consul treated the inhabitants very badly, sparking an embassy from the city, and the passage of a senatus consultum.61 The praetor Lucretius collected enormous amounts of booty from the allies, and apparently both he and his successor, L. Hortensius, inflicted much violence upon them.62 Both in their turn plundered and abused the cities along the Thracian shoreline, but when they were shut out of enemy cities (Emathia, Amphipolis, Maronea, and Aenus), they turned on the Romans’ allies and friends.63 They plundered their own naval base at Chalcis, Lucretius despoiling the shrines, and he and Hortensius both kidnapping and selling Chalcidians into slavery, and billeting the sailors in private houses, with grim consequences for the resident women and children.64 Hortensius also attacked Abdera, a Roman amicus, after the townspeople asked for time to discuss his demand for money and grain with the consul and the senate. The envoys had barely reached the consul when the praetor’s men stormed the town, beheaded the leading men, and sold the rest of the inhabitants into slavery.65 By late summer or early autumn, delegations from Abdera and Chalcis, and perhaps, if they had not done so earlier, Thisbe as well, arrived in Rome to complain about their treatment at the hands of the Roman commanders. The senate passed senatus consulta, based on that passed earlier on behalf of Coronea, and issued orders that those who had been improperly enslaved by the consul of 170, A. Hostilius Mancinus, and Hortensius the praetor should be recovered and restored to free status. Lucretius was tried and unanimously condemned by all thirty-five tribes at Rome, and had to pay a fine of one million asses.66 Meanwhile, Perseus was able to attack the Roman fleet at Oreus on Euboea, seize twenty supply ships with their cargo, sink the rest with their

61 62

63

64 65 66

previous campaigning season; the Romans, now humiliated and angry, were ready to pounce at the slightest hint of perceived disloyalty – as they had done to the Aetolian commanders after Callicinus (Errington 1971: 214–15). The Greeks’ secret sympathy for the underdog Perseus after that battle was probably not lost on them either. Livy 43.4.11–13. For the content of the s.c., see Appendix C. Livy 43.4.6–7, 7.10 (booty); Per. 43 (“many things were done violently against the allies by the prefects of the Roman fleets,” a praefectis classium Romanarum multa impotenter in socios facta). Lucretius’ treatment of the Thisbeans has already been mentioned, above, p. 134. Livy 43.7.10; cf. Zon. 9.22.5 (“Crassus attacked the Greek cities subject to Perseus, and was shut out from most of them,” ὁ Κράσσος δὲ ταῖς πόλεσι ταῖς Ἑλληνικαῖς ταῖς ὑπὸ τοῦ Φιλίππου κατεχομέναις προσέβαλε, καὶ τῶν μὲν πλειόνων ἀπεκρούσθη). Livy 43.7.5–11. Livy 43.4.8–10. Livy 43.4.11–13 (Abdera), 8.4–8 (Chalcis), 8.1–3, 9–10 (trial of Lucretius). The mistreatment of Thisbe, which also resulted in an embassy of complaint to Rome and an s.c. (see Appendix C), was probably reported by Livy, but fell into the lacuna after 43.3.7.

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grain, and capture four quinqueremes besides.67 In early 170, some Molossian Epirotes, recently allied to Perseus, plotted with him to kidnap the newly arrived Roman consul Hostilius, who only narrowly escaped.68 Hostilius tried and failed to penetrate Macedonia via the Thessalian coast,69 and was then defeated in battle by Perseus as he tried to penetrate Macedonia from Elimea.70 Hostilius eventually entered the kingdom via the Thessalian coast, but declined battle when challenged by Perseus, choosing instead to spend the campaigning season foraging in the Macedonian countryside.71 Perseus, for his part, ignored the Roman army, invaded Perrhaebia and Thessaly, and besieged and captured many towns.72 So confident in the security of the southern battlefront did Perseus feel that at one point he marched north to confront the Dardanians. He killed 10,000 and captured enormous booty.73 He also resumed relations with the Bastarnae, perhaps reviving his father’s old plan to have them invade Italy.74 Livy’s text resumes with his account of embassies to the senate, including those of the Abderites and Chalcis, discussed earlier. A delegation from Athens reported that, in the previous year, although the consul Licinius and the praetor Lucretius had refused any military assistance from them, they had requested 100,000 modii of grain, and the Athenians provided it, even though their land was largely barren. Nevertheless, they pledged to provide whatever was needed in the future. Ambassadors from Miletus promised to provide anything that was needed for the war as well. Envoys from Alabanda reported the construction of a new temple in their city and the initiation of a new religious festival in honor of Urbs Roma. They also had with them a gold crown to deposit in the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitol, as well as 300 cavalry shields to dedicate. The latter the senate ordered to be brought to the consul Hostilius in Macedonia.75 A gold crown was also

67 68

69 70 71

72 73 74 75

Plut. Aem. 9.3; Oros. 4.20.38 (allusive). Polyb. 27.15–16; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.5–5a; Zon. 9.22.5. As had occurred in Boeotia in 172, disputes over whether to back Rome or Macedon split the Epirote League. The Molossians, led by Charops, backed Perseus (Polyb. 27.15–16), while the other states, under the leadership of the Thesprotians and Chaonians, remained loyal to Rome (Livy 43.21.4; cf. Polyb. 27.16.4–5). Livy 44.2.6 (retrospective). Plut. Aem. 9.4; cf. Livy 43.11.9 and Oros. 4.20.38 (allusive). Plut. Aem. 9.4; cf. Livy 44.2.6, 36.10 (alluding to previous consuls wasting the summer marching around Macedonia). Polyb. 29.17.7; Livy 45.3.7; cf. Zon. 9.22.7. Livy Per. 43 (cf. 43.19.14, 11.9 (allusive)); Plut. Aem. 9.5; cf. Polyb. 28.8.2; (perhaps) Diod. Sic. 30.4. Plut. Aem. 9.5. An inscription recording the renewal of Alabanda’s amicitia with Rome (REG 11 (1898): 256–66) may date from this period, although it may just as likely belong to the early 180s, after the war with Antiochus, or from the Mithridatic War in the 80s. Discussion: Gruen 1984: 733–5.

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brought by ambassadors from Lampsacus, who reminded the senators that when the Romans first entered Macedonia, they had abandoned Perseus, despite having been Macedonian subjects since his father Philip’s time.76 They also reminded the senate that they had furnished everything required for the war effort, and all they asked in return was to be admitted to friendship with Rome. They were enrolled in the “list of Roman allies,” the formula sociorum.77 Envoys from Carthage and Numidia also arrived. The former reported that they had brought down to the African coast a million modii of wheat and half a million modii of barley, offering to deliver it wherever the senate decided, while King Massinissa offered the same amount of wheat, 1,200 cavalry, and twelve elephants, offering to supply whatever else the senate should require. The envoys were told to have all they offered brought to the consul Hostilius. Cretan ambassadors arrived to report that in the previous year they sent as many archers to the consul Licinius as he had requested, but, upon being questioned about it, they could not deny that a larger number of Cretans were serving with Perseus. They were instructed to make an effort to recall those Cretans serving with Perseus at the earliest possible moment.78 Next, the senate ordered eight war-ships to be sent to the naval legate C. Furius at Issa, with 2,000 newly conscripted soldiers aboard, while the consul Hostilius sent Ap. Claudius Centho with 4,000 men to the Illyrian coast to protect Rome’s amici there (he gathered another 8,000 from the allies on the journey). The reason for these moves, writes Livy, is that the senate was increasingly concerned about what Genthius, the king of the Illyrian Ardiaei, might do. They had good reason not to trust him, of course. Two years earlier, the king’s envoys had received a cool reception from the patres after his attacks on Issa, a Roman amicus. A Roman embassy expressing the senate’s displeasure was sent shortly afterward. In 172, when Marcius Philippus’ mission fanned out across the Greek world, L. Decimius had to be dispatched to Genthius to remind him of his amicitia with Rome, but failed to secure his support in the war.79 76 77

78

79

Not true (Meloni 1953: 266 n. 3, with earlier literature there cited; cf. Walbank 1957: 606–7). Livy 43.6.1–10. On the formula sociorum (also called the formula amicorum and the formula sociorum et amicorum), see now Burton 2011: 82–3, to which add now Snowdon 2014. Livy 43.6.11–7.4. The Cretans serving on both sides were probably mercenaries. Whether any Cretan state could withdraw its mercenaries from service may be doubted (Briscoe 2012: 410) – hence the senate’s order that they “make an effort” (dare operam: 7.4) to recall them, rather than that they must do this. A token effort was all that was required to show their friendship and loyalty to Rome. On such gestures among international amici, see now Burton 2011: 200 (on the senate’s offer, at the Rhodians’ request, to have Soli transferred from Antiochus to Rhodes in 188). On all this, see above, Chapter 4, pp. 69, 70. As was seen earlier in this chapter (n. 6), the fifty-four Illyrian lemboi that the Romans commandeered were probably taken against

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At some point late in the year, Hostilius sent the former consul C. Popillius Laenas and Cn. Octavius on a diplomatic mission to reassure the Greek allies, and to undo some of the damage he and the praetor Hortensius had done to Rome’s reputation earlier in the campaigning season. At Thebes they thanked the Thebans for their loyalty and urged them to maintain it. In the Peloponnese, they quoted from the recent senatus consultum, which forbid Roman commanders in the field from requisitioning supplies from the Greek allies without senatorial permission.80 They also said they could distinguish those who were eager to support Rome from those who were reluctant. This, like Marcius Philippus’ comments to the Boeotian envoys in 170, telegraphing his intention to break up the Boeotian confederacy, and punish those responsible for defection to Perseus, had the desired effect: the Greeks were now anxious about how to speak and act so as to show their loyalty to Rome. At the Achaean League council meeting at Aegium, the Romans, says Polybius, were about to accuse Polybius himself, his father Lycortas, and Archon of waiting on events, but had no grounds to do so, and so made a brief statement, and moved on to Aetolia.81 At the Aetolian League assembly meeting at Thermum, the Romans asked for hostages. Mutual recrimination followed, as various Aetolian politicians protested their loyalty and accused their rivals of betraying the Roman cause. The meeting ended in a near-riot when anti-Roman politicians began stoning their former political ally Thoas, who had since turned to the Roman side. The envoys departed, apparently without taking the hostages, and arrived at Thyrreum in Acarnania, where an assembly was taking place. The pro-Roman faction asked for Roman garrisons to prevent treachery. Their opponents objected on the grounds that they had never done anything against the Romans. The matter was dropped, no garrisons were installed, and the envoys returned to Larissa to report back to the consul.82

80

81

82

Genthius’ will. On the failed Roman attempt(s) on Uscana, which chronologically belongs here, see Appendix D. Livy 43.17.3. Polybius omits the substance of the decree in the parallel section, probably having already quoted it in an earlier part of his text, now lost (but paraphrased at Polyb. 28.13.11 and 16.2). Whether Polybius had any certain knowledge that the envoys were about to accuse him, his father, and Archon may be doubted. It is perhaps an embittered inferential reflection based on what happened to him and his faction after the war was over. On the other hand, although there were no grounds to suspect Polybius and Archon, who advocated a policy of complete cooperation with Rome, their association with Lycortas, who advocated neutrality in the war, despite the League’s treaty with Rome, may have caused the Romans to suspect them of time-serving as well. On the policy split within the Lycortas faction at this time, see Eckstein 1995: 5 and n. 20. Polyb. 28.3–5; cf. Livy 43.17.2–9. Polybius mistakenly refers to Hostilius as a proconsul at 28.3.1 and 5.6 (Meloni 1953: 271 n. 1 (with earlier literature there cited); Walbank 1979: 329). Hammond

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Meanwhile, Perseus was eager to follow up his diplomatic success in Epirus and his military successes against the Dardani with a winter campaign in Illyria, which might also entice Genthius to join the Macedonian cause. Waiting until winter was truly advanced, when the passes from Thessaly into Macedon are blocked with snow,83 he set out around the time of the winter solstice with 10,000 infantry, 2,000 light troops, and 500 cavalry. He stopped at Stuberra to take on supplies and siege equipment, and then proceeded to Uscana, which was occupied by a mixed RomanIllyrian force. The city resisted fiercely until the people saw Perseus’ siege sheds being brought up to the walls, and realized they did not have enough grain to hold out much longer. The Romans requested that they be allowed to leave with their possessions and arms, or, alternatively, with their lives and freedom. The king agreed to the first request, but then stripped the soldiers of their arms, took them into custody, and marched them back to Stuberra. The Illyrian cohort and the townspeople he sold into slavery.84 Perseus then marched back to the Penestae region and made for Oaeneum, a strategically important town on the route to the Labeates, Genthius’ stronghold. On the way, he captured Draudacum and eleven other forts, mostly without a fight, and took 1,500 Roman soldiers prisoner. Moving on to Oaeneum, Perseus set to work on besieging the place. He built a mound right up against the wall, and at the same time that his men began climbing the mound, the ladders were brought up as well. The town was taken, the adult males were killed, the women and children were taken into custody, and the booty was distributed to Perseus’ men. The king returned to Stuberra with his victorious army, and immediately sent envoys to Genthius to report on his great successes that year, and to urge him to join the Macedonians. With great difficulty the ambassadors made their way across Mt. Scordus and down to the Illyrian coast, alighting at Scodra (Map 1), whence they were summoned by Genthius to Lissus. The king was favorable to the Macedonian cause, but needed money. When this was reported to Perseus at Stuberra, he sent a follow-up embassy to urge Genthius again to join him, but avoided any discussion of money.

83

84

1988: 523 is surely right to conclude that “the tactics of Hortensius’ envoys must have offset any goodwill which the senatorial decrees were designed to excite.” This would ensure against the Romans making a winter-time incursion into his kingdom. Hostilius had already withdrawn from Macedonia for, as has been seen, he was at Larissa when his envoys reported back to him late in the year. Livy 43.18–19.2; cf. Livy 43.11.9 (allusive); Zon. 9.22.7 (possibly confusing Illyricum with Epirus). The number of Roman prisoners given in the MS (4,000) is probably too large (Pareti 1953: 65 n. 3; Briscoe 2012: 453). On Uscana, see Appendix D.

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After reinforcing Uscana and the other forts among the Penestae, Perseus returned to Macedonia.85 At this point, L.  Coelius sent M.  Trebellius of Fregellae to take hostages from the Penestae who remained loyal to Rome, and from the Parthini, also Roman amici, and send them to Epidamnus and Apollonia. Meanwhile, Ap. Claudius Centho tried to besiege Phanote, an Epirote fort, with 6,000 men, but the Macedonian garrison was too strong. Then, hearing that Perseus was marching to Stratus, Claudius withdrew,86 with the Macedonian garrison under Cleuas in hot pursuit. His men killed around 1,000 Romans and took 200 prisoner. Claudius encamped in the Meleon plain, while Cleuas directed his forces to plunder the territory of Antigonea. Armed men poured out of the city and attacked the scattered Macedonians, killing at least a thousand and capturing a hundred. They then encamped close to Claudius in the plain, who then dismissed the Epiorote contingents, sent the others into winter quarters among the Parthini, and himself returned to Illyricum with his Italian troops, and thence to Rome to offer sacrifices.87 After purifying his army at Elimea, Perseus, at the invitation of some Epirote exiles, marched with 10,000 infantry and 300 cavalry across difficult terrain in harsh winter conditions to Stratus in Aetolia. He met Archidamus on the Aetolian frontier, who promised to betray Stratus to the king. But when Perseus arrived at the town the next day, he found the gates shut and a Roman garrison of a thousand men under the command of C.  Popillius inside. Soon Dinarchus, the Aetolian hipparchos, arrived with 600 infantry and some cavalry, originally intended for Perseus, says Livy, but now handed over to the Romans. Perseus attempted a parley but failed as the Romans rained down missiles on the Macedonians. Perseus withdrew five miles away across the Petitarus River, and held a council. It was decided not to test the weather conditions any further by continuing the winter campaign, but to return to Macedonia. On the difficult journey back, Perseus received the surrender of Aetolian Aperantia, and installed Archidamus with a garrison of 800 men there. The king later sent 1,000 infantry and 200 cavalry to garrison Cassandrea, and continued 85

86

87

Livy 43.19.2–20.4; Polyb. 28.8–9; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.9; Plut. Aem. 9.6; Dio fr. 66.1; Zon. 9.22.9 (on negotiations with Genthius). It is at this point that L. Coelius perhaps tried to recover Uscana. See Appendix D. On Perseus’ miserliness, see also Polyb. 29.8–9, discussed at Eckstein 1995: 73, 261, and below, p. 60. Perhaps to attack Perseus rather than to flee him (so Briscoe 2012:  462). For Perseus’ march to Stratus, see below. Livy 43.21.1–5, 23.1–6.

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to exchange envoys with Genthius, never giving in to the Illyrian king’s requests for money.88 Meanwhile, at Rome, Sex. Digitius, a tribune of the soldiers, made an informal report to the senate on the progress of the war. The patres, fearing further disgrace, dispatched M. Fulvius Flaccus and M. Caninus Rebilus to investigate. Upon their return, shortly after the consular elections for 169, they reported on Perseus’ spectacular successes, and the panic among Rome’s allies because the king had taken control of so many cities. The consul’s army, they continued, was in disarray because leave was granted too generously by Hostilius, hoping to secure his soldiers’ political support. So the military tribunes. The consul, in turn, blamed the military tribunes. The senate placed discussion of the Macedonian situation first on the agenda of the inaugural senate meeting of the new consular year.89 *   *   *

As the senate’s reaction to Sex. Digitius’ report makes clear, the second year of the war witnessed the gradual erosion of the Roman position in Greece to the benefit of Perseus. The king displayed enormous energy, both diplomatically and militarily, throughout the year and, most strikingly, deep into the winter months. He succeeded in chipping away at the hitherto secure Roman position in Illyria, as well as making further gains in Perrhaebia, Thessaly, and even in Aetolia. He was victorious in battle against the Dardanians, and against the Romans themselves, and succeeded in winning over the Molossian Epirotes. Roman frustration with the mixed results of the first year of the war manifested itself in an orgy of cruelty and violence against friend and foe alike. Even a senatus consultum designed to mollify the allies and begin the task of rebuilding these relationships was delivered by the Roman command in Greece in such a way as to bully and intimidate. Clearly the humiliations and continuing lack of progress of the campaign of 170 – the near-kidnapping of the consul Hostilius, the destruction of Roman ships and supplies at Oreus, the Macedonian victory over the Roman army in battle, the Roman failure to come to grips with Perseus thereafter – had only redoubled Roman frustration and anger. They now saw treachery and sabotage everywhere. And so they resorted to beheading leaders of friendly states they suspected of wavering (as at Abdera), garrisoning allied cities

88 89

Livy 43.21.5–23.1, 7–8. Livy 43.11.1–2, 9–12.

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to keep an eye on things (as at Stratus – and with good reason, of course), and taking hostages from loyal amici to ensure good behavior (the Penestae and Parthini). The senate’s reaction to the ignominia of the campaign of 170 – sending a commission to investigate – is a clear indication that enough senators felt that things had gone terribly wrong.90 The commissioners’ report discovered a serious morale problem in the army: too many men had been seeking leave, and too many officers, and the consul himself, had been willing to grant it to gain political popularity. The fact that Hostilius lost a battle to Perseus (the details of which are, unfortunately, wholly unknown), and failed to penetrate Macedonia twice by land could indicate that a failure of generalship or the rawness of the soldiery, or some combination of the two, was responsible for the lackluster performance.91 The consul’s refusal to accept battle when it was offered subsequently, on ground chosen by the king, could indicate a lack of confidence in himself or his troops as well. Lack of progress in the war due to poor performance by the Republic’s generals and/or its armies easily explains why the people next chose as a potential commander in the Macedonian war a man of great military experience, who had already led consular armies to victory, a man with deep knowledge about the East, the geography of Macedon, and the character of its king. On 28 January Q. Marcius Philippus was elected consul for 169 alongside Cn. Servilius Caepio.92

The Third Year 93

At the start of the new year, the Roman levy was conducted with great difficulty. Evidently greed for plunder was still no match for the desire to avoid the rigors of service, or the fear of facing the formidable Macedonian phalanx. Echoing the accusations the military tribunes in the field made against Hostilius, two of the recently elected praetors, M.  Claudius Marcellus and C. Sulpicius Galus, argued that the consuls were unwilling, for political reasons, to conscript anyone who displayed any reluctance to serve, and offered to conduct the levy themselves. The new censors, 90 91 92 93

Livy 43.11.2, 11 (ignominia). Pareti 1953: 64; Hammond 1988: 521. Livy 43.11.6. Mommsen 1856:  744–5; Niese 1903:  144–51; Colin 1905:  421–2, 431–7; Kromayer 1907:  267–94; Heiland 1913:  62–4; De Sanctis 1923:  300–6; Pais 1926:  560–3; Benecke 1930:  264–7; Meloni 1953:  285–326; Pareti 1953:  69–73; Pritchett 1969:  164–76 and 1991:  101–36; Errington 1971:  219; Helly 1972; McDonald 1981:  249–50; Hammond 1988:  526–30; Derow 1989:  312–15; Waterfield 2014: 186–7.

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C. Claudius Pulcher and Ti. Sempronius Gracchus, added a new military oath to the existing censorial oath, and ordered that all soldiers who had been ordered to serve from 172 on should present themselves to the censors in Rome, and swear the new oath before returning to their posts.94 Marcius Philippus was allotted Macedonia as his province. He departed Rome with 12,000 mixed Roman and allied legionary reinforcements, and 550 mixed Roman and allied cavalry.95 The praetor C.  Marcius Figulus (Philippus’ cousin), who was to command the Roman fleet, accompanied him.96 Once landed in Greece at Actium, the port of Acarnania, the consul quickly gathered his troops and marched overland to Thessaly, while Figulus rounded the Peloponnese, put in at Creusa in the Gulf of Corninth, and marched overland to rendezvous with the fleet at Chalcis. The consul met his predecessor Hostilius at Palaepharsalus. He had spent the winter months toughening up his soldiers and protecting the allies, and was now to stay on with Philippus.97 The new consul addressed his men and immediately called a war council. He was joined by the praetor Figulus, just arrived from Chalcis. An amphibious assault on Macedonia was decided upon: Philippus would lead his forces overland through one of the passes, while Figulus would attack the Macedonian coastline with the fleet. On the march, there was some controversy over which pass to take, but the consul ultimately decided upon the route through the lower Olympus range past Lake Ascuris.98 Meanwhile, Perseus, aware of the Romans’ approach, decided to occupy all the passes into his kingdom. He dispatched 10,000 light infantry under the command of Asclepiodotus to the Cambunian Mountains above the Volustana pass; 12,000 troops under Hippias to occupy Lapathus fort near Lake Ascuris; another unnamed commander to encamp near Otolobus; while the king himself encamped 94 95

96 97

98

Livy 43.14, 15.6–8. Livy 43.12.3, 15.3. The figures given here are far larger than the 5,000 reinforcements that accompany Marcius to Greece recorded at Livy 44.1.1 (Polybian). This is the preferred number of Kromayer 1907: 345. But the smaller number may be corrupt, since 5,000 reinforcements seems far too small for the Macedonian theater, especially given all the recent Roman defeats and desertions (so Briscoe 2012: 465–6). De Sanctis 1923: 299 n. 73; Meloni 1953: 288 are unconcerned by the apparent contradiction since the 5,000 will have been used to fill gaps in the existing legions, exclusive of the 12,000 new reinforcements. Pareti 1953: 69–70 estimates 24,000 to be the total number of men Marcius took with him. Livy 44.1.3. Livy 44.1.7 (and perhaps his source, Polybius) mistakenly calls Hostilius a proconsul. If the senate had prorogued him, Livy would have recorded it at 43.15 (so Briscoe 2012: 467; contra Meloni 1953: 290). On Polybius’ habit of misidentifying commanders as pro-magistrates, see above, n. 82. It was probably during deliberations over which route to take that Polybius, hipparch of the Achaean League for 170/69 (Polyb. 28.6.9), along with some colleagues, joined the consul (Polyb. 28.13.1). On Philippus’ route, see Appendix E.

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at Dium near the Petra pass in the Pierian plain with the remainder of his forces, from where he could keep watch on the Pierian coastline between Dium, Heracleum, and Phila (Map 3).99 Philippus now began his invasion of Macedonia, sending his son, Q. Marcius, and M. Claudius Marcellus with 4,000 men to occupy strategically important advance positions. Their journey was long and arduous over steep and broken terrain. They barely covered twenty-two miles in three days before reaching a high defensive position opposite Hippias and the Macedonians (Figure 6.1).100 A messenger was sent to the consul to say that he should follow on with the rest of the army since the advance forces had succeeded in occupying a safe and convenient location. Philippus brought the army up to the Roman position, from where they could see the enemy camp across a ridge, as well as Dium, Phila, and the entire Macedonian coast. The consul then rested his men for a day.101 When Hippias spied the Roman camp from his base at Lapathus, he prepared his men for battle, and marched out with his light infantry, encountering Philippus’ column on the march. The battle began straightaway with the Macedonians hurling their weapons. After taking a few casualties, both sides withdrew, only to return the next day in greater numbers. But the narrowness of the mountain ridge upon which they fought permitted the deployment of only three units, and so both sides deployed their light infantry again, with the heavily armed men looking on. The battle continued until nightfall, both sides sustaining more wounded than killed, before it was called off. Philippus decided on the third day that he could no longer maintain his position on the ridge, cut off as he was from his supply lines, but retreat was not an option either. He chose a different, considerably bolder alternative: to make his way through the Callipeuce forest, and from there descend through one of the gorges to the coastal plain of Pieria. Livy remarks on Perseus’ wandering about the shoreline, refusing to reinforce his light troops at Lapathus a mere twelve miles away, or to appear on the battlefield himself. “Had the consul had for an enemy a man similar to the ancient kings of Macedon,” he says, “a great disaster might have followed.” The 99

100

101

Livy 44.1.3–3.2. On the location of Lapathus and Otolobus, see Appendix E. Contra Livy 44.2.12 (followed by Hammond 1988: 526), Perseus was not running up and down the coast to no end, like a crazy person, but was monitoring the area for landings by the Roman fleet: Kromayer 1907: 281, 291 n. 1; De Sanctis 1923: 305 n. 183; Meloni 1953: 297; Briscoe 2012: 471. For the controversy over the exact location of the Macedonian and Roman positions around Lake Ascuris, see Appendix E. Livy 41.3.2–10.

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Figure 6.1 Camp Sites on Mt. Metamorphosis

consul, by contrast, labored with great energy and vigor, despite being over 60 and overweight.102

102

Livy 44.4.1–10 (with the quotation from §9: si hostem similem antiquis Macedonum regibus habuisset consul, magna clades accipi potuerit); cf. App. Mac. 14 (on Philippus’ energy despite his age and physical condition); Diod. Sic. 30.10.1 (on Perseus’ refusal to engage the enemy). Perseus’ decision not to reinforce his light troops at Lapathus is defended by Kromayer 1909: 279–81; Meloni 1953: 297–8.

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Philippus detailed M. Popillius Laenas to guard the ridge, and Attalus and Misacenes to guard the soldiers sent ahead to clear a pathway through the forest, while he himself, after sending the cavalry and baggage ahead, brought up the rear with the legions. They made their way through the Callipeuce forest without much trouble, but the descent via the Karavidha gorge was a grim ordeal (Figure 6.2). After four miles, the Romans were about ready to give up since great damage had been done to the pack animals and their loads, while the elephants caused enormous confusion and panic among the horses as they tried to negotiate the steep downward slope, trumpeting fiercely and throwing off their mahouts. A series of descending, tilting platforms or bridges had to be built in order to transport the elephants down the steep slopes of the gorge: From solid ground an elephant would proceed onto a bridge; before he could reach the edge of it, the posts holding it up were cut away and the bridge inclining down forced him to slide down gently to the start of the next bridge. Some of the elephants would slide standing on their feet, others would squat on their haunches. Whenever another level expanse of a bridge intercepted them, they were again carried down by a similar collapse of the lower bridge, until they arrived at a more level valley.

After four days, having covered barely twelve miles, the army finally arrived at the coastal plain, and encamped between Heracleum and Libethra.103 The sudden appearance of the Roman legions in the Pierian plain took Perseus completely by surprise. He is said to have leaped out of his bath, shouting that he had been beaten without a fight.104 The king gave orders for the royal treasure to be removed from the royal citadel at Pella and dumped into the sea, the dockyards at Thessalonica to be torched, and for all Macedonian forces to be evacuated from the Volustana and Tempe passes, as well as from Lapathus.105 The king himself removed the gilded 103

104 105

Livy 44.4.11–5.13; cf. Flor. 1.28.5; Ampel. 16.4; Zon. 9.22.8. For the marching route down from the Callipeuce forest, see Appendix E. On Libethra, the town (and not Libethrum, the area, as Meloni 1953: 300–1 n. 3) being the correct location here, see Briscoe 2012: 481. Waterfield 2014: 187 locates the place where the Roman army debouched in “the north Thessalian coastal plain,” but clearly it was in Macedonia, north of the Peneus River. The description at Livy 44.5.12–13 of the exact disposition of the Roman camp(s) in the plain is beyond recovery (Briscoe 2012: 481–2). Livy 44.6.1–2. Cf. App. Mac. 15; Diod. Sic. 30.10.2 (with variants on Perseus’ exclamation). The details have dropped out here, but can be restored (thus Madvig) from Livy 44.7.8, 10.1–4; Diod. Sic. 30.11 as follows: ex praesidiis reuocat omnisque aditus aperit bello (“he recalled Asclepiodotus and Hippias and all the soldiers with them from their garrisons, and opened all the passes to warfare”; Livy 44.6.1–2). Although Tempe is not explicitly mentioned among the passes evacuated at 44.6.2, it is covered by omnis aditus aperit bello. Livy’s counter-factual argument later on in this passage (44.6.5–12, discussed below) also depends on Tempe having been abandoned by Perseus.

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Figure 6.2 Lower Olympos Range

statues from Dium, evacuated and abandoned the city, and moved everything to Pydna, thus abandoning the Petra pass as well. Livy faults Perseus for all of these decisions, attributing them to the panic of a timorous mind. The dumping of the treasure may well be apocryphal, however, and the torching of the dockyards, if that be authentic, may have been designed to deprive the Roman fleet of a possible landing place for an amphibious assault.106 Perseus’ abandonment of the passes is more difficult to explain. Livy says that had the king stood his ground at Dium and maintained control of the Tempe pass, the only viable route of retreat and supply available to the Romans would have been the way they came, through the Callipeuce forest and past Lake Azuris.107 This would probably have resulted in disaster since the Macedonians could have harassed the slow-moving column as it made its way through the treacherous Karavidha gorge. Better, too, says Livy, had Perseus fortified the narrow ground in the Pierian plain between 106

107

Kromayer 1907: 291 n. 1; Meloni 1953: 302; Pareti 1953: 72 n. 1; McDonald 1981: 250; Hammond 1988: 528 n. 2 (both stories apocryphal). Access to the Volustana and Petra passes would have been blocked by the Macedonian presence at Dium, at the head of the Petra pass. According to Kromayer 1907: 277, followed by Heiland 1913: 63 and n. 2; Meloni 1953: 294 and n. 1, despite Livy’s silence, Perseus must have had a small garrison in the Petra pass.

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Mt. Olympus and the coast. In that case, the Romans would have been bottled up along the coast south of Olympus, with no safe line of retreat or supply. To break out, they would have been forced either to fight their way north through the coastal fortifications and past Dium into the heartland of the enemy,108 or to try their luck fighting their way through the heavily fortified and garrisoned Tempe pass back into Thessaly.109 Whatever the reasons for his actions, Perseus soon came to his senses, and realized how foolish he had been. He publicly blamed Hippias and Asclepiodotus before his assembled troops for abandoning their posts.110 Fortunately for the king, Livy says, Andronicus had second-guessed his order to burn the dockyards at Thessalonica, and Nicias recovered the royal treasure from the sea floor. Perseus nevertheless allegedly put these two to death, as well as the divers who retrieved the royal treasure, in order to remove any witnesses to his shameful cowardice.111 Philippus, finding all ways open to him, sent a message to the legate Sp. Lucretius at Larissa, ordering him to seize the enemy forts in the Tempe pass, and sent Popillius to reconnoiter the situation at Dium (Map 3). He then proceeded to Dium himself and pitched camp next to the temple of Zeus. A few days later, he advanced to the Mitys River and beyond, bypassing Pydna, and eventually reaching Agassae and other Macedonian communities in the area northwest of Pydna. He received their surrenders, took hostages, but otherwise gave them their freedom, imposing no garrisons and taking no tribute. Philippus then advanced further north to the Ascordus River, but sensing his supply lines were being stretched too thin, returned to Dium. The fleet soon arrived, but, to the consul’s chagrin, carried no grain at a time when supplies were quickly running out. Fortunately, word soon came that the Tempe pass as well as the town of Phila were securely in Roman hands, and supplies would soon be forthcoming. The consul moved south to Phila – a controversial move, since it allowed Perseus to recapture Dium, refortify it, and encamp five miles 108

109

110 111

Livy confusingly calls the coast route into Macedonia a saltus (OLD, s.u., 1–2a), as though it is a mountain pass like Tempe. A superficial reading would suggest he meant the Petra pass, but this is clearly not intended since that route would have been blocked had Perseus remained at Dium. Livy 44.6.2–17; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.11; App. Mac. 18.3; Flor. 1.28.6. The Livy passage is highly corrupt and perhaps riddled with misunderstandings of his source, Polybius, but the gist of what he says is nevertheless fairly straightforward, and can be reconciled with the topography and known physical remains in the area (Pritchett 1969: 176). It is curious that Livy does not consider that the Romans could have been supplied by the fleet operating freely in coastal waters south of Dium. Livy 44.7.8–9. Polyb. 28.10 mentions only Hippias. Livy 44.10.1–4; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.11; App. Mac. 16. McDonald 1981: 250; Briscoe 2012: 498 (against e.g. Meloni 1953: 302 n. 2) doubt that Perseus had Nicias and Andronicus killed.

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distant on the north bank of the Elpeus River, which was very difficult to cross in winter, and could thus act as another line of fortification against the Romans to the south.112 Philippus then dispatched Popillius with 2,000 men to see if he could take Heracleum. After his request for a voluntary surrender was rejected (the townspeople could see Perseus’ camp fires across the Elpeus), Popillius began a joint siege with the praetor Figulus and the Roman fleet. The town was taken when the wall was surmounted with the aid of a maniple of young soldiers in testudo formation. The consul now brought up his camp, as though he intended to eject the king from Dium and penetrate further into Macedonia, but instead began his preparations for winter, improving the roads out of Thessaly, organizing grain dumps, and building lodging houses for those transporting supplies.113 At this point, according to Polybius, he and his colleagues, who had been in the consul’s retinue since before the invasion of Macedonia, requested an interview with Philippus. They showed him the Achaean League decree pledging their full military support for the Roman cause, and declared that they had unhesitatingly complied with all Roman requests and communiqués thus far in the war. The consul released the Achaeans from the burden of service, and all returned home save Polybius, who was later sent by Philippus back to Achaea to prevent the dispatch of 5,000 League troops to Ap. Claudius Centho in Epirus. Polybius wonders whether the consul so requested in order to stymie a political rival or out of regard for the Achaeans, but Philippus was clearly honoring the spirit of senatorial policy, implemented the previous year, which forbid Roman commanders from requisitioning anything from the allies without senatorial authorization. Philippus was evidently aware that the Romans still had a lot of work to do to recover their reputation among the Greeks. In the event, Polybius, rather than revealing that he was acting under the consul’s instructions, and not wishing to defy Claudius publicly (and thus provide ammunition for his political enemies), cited the senatus consultum of the previous year, and prevented the dispatching of troops to Claudius, thus saving the Achaeans over 120 talents.114

112 113

114

Livy 44.7.1–7, 10–8.7. Livy 44.8.1–9.11; cf. Polyb. 28.11 (on the testudo); Zon. 9.22.8. Philippus was not preparing to go into winter quarters – after all, it was only July (Meloni 1953: 465–6). Polyb. 28.13. His political calculus failed, according to the historian (§14), since his enemies now had the perfect pretext for accusing him before Claudius. Discussion: Gruen 1984: 509 and n. 130 (with earlier literature there cited; cf. Walbank 1979: 346–7); Eckstein 1995: 6–7.

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After the capture of Heracleum, the praetor Figulus crossed the Thermaic Gulf to Chalcidice (Map 3), disembarked his soldiers near Thessalonica, and set about ravaging the surrounding territory. The Romans managed to drive back several sorties from the city, but could not endure the projectiles (mostly stones) that were hurled by machines from atop the walls, striking down the besiegers, and even those still on the ships. The praetor called off the siege and took ship to Aenea, fifteen miles south. After ravaging the fertile land thereabout, Figulus sailed further south to Antigonea, and began plundering the territory there. The Macedonians then attacked the raiders scattered about, killing 500 and capturing an equal number. When the Romans reached the shore, they turned about, and, reinforced by their comrades on the ships, killed 200 and captured 200 of the enemy. Figulus then sailed on to the Pallene peninsula, and was ravaging the territory around Cassandrea when Eumenes arrived with twenty ships, and Prusias (evidently beginning to reconsider his position of neutrality) with five. Confident that with this support he could take Cassandrea itself, Figulus began constructing siege works across the narrow neck of the peninsula to prevent further reinforcements coming down from Macedonia. The Romans also began filling in a moat cut by Perseus to aid in the defense of the town. Figulus spied brick arches in the walls where the soil from the moat had been deposited, and decided to concentrate his attack on these, which were thinner than the rest of the fortifications, diverting attention from what he was doing by sending troops with siege ladders to other parts of the wall. The Romans easily pierced the brickwork, but failed to muster enough men to make an entry into the town feasible. The garrison commanders, Pytho and Philip, alerted to what was going on, sallied out with their Illyrian and Agrianian units, and attacked the disorganized and scattered Romans, who were now shifting their positions from the walls to the arches. 600 were driven into the moat and killed, and all between the moat and the wall received injuries. Figulus abandoned his assault on the brickworks, beefed up his defenses across the peninsula, and brought up the siege works. However, some picked Gallic auxiliaries aboard Macedonian scout-ships slipped into Cassandrea at night, forcing the praetor to abandon the siege as hopeless. Figulus then sailed east against Torone, but it was too well defended to attack. He finally abandoned the Chalcidice altogether, sailed to Demetrias (Map 2), which was also well defended, and landed at Iolcus. Euphranor, one of Perseus’ generals, having successfully driven back an attack by Popillius with 5,000 troops on Meliboea in the foothills below Mt. Ossa, slipped into Demetrias by night, and added to the difficulty of taking the place by

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siege. Figulus called a halt to operations, sent part of the fleet into winter quarters at Sciathus, off the southern tip of Magnesia, and himself went with the rest to Oreus, whence he could supply the armies in Thessaly and Macedonia. Eumenes sailed to Phila to congratulate Philippus on a successful campaign before returning to Pergamum.115 When the campaigning season was over, the senate in Rome received several embassies from the East. Envoys from King Prusias, who had lately joined the Romans with a handful of ships, had promised Perseus that he would try to broker a peace with Rome, and so was now entreating the Romans to end the war.116 The Rhodian embassy, led by the pro-Roman Hagesilochus, was introduced next. He requested the renewal of Rhodes’ amicitia with Rome, as well as permission to export grain from Sicily, and protested Rhodian loyalty against some recent accusations by their enemies. The senators gave them a very kind reception, the amicitia was probably renewed, and Rhodes was given permission to export 100,000 medimnoi of corn from Sicily.117 At around the same time, writes Polybius, Rhodian ambassadors visited Philippus at Heracleum in order to protest their loyalty and friendship. Philippus responded that he paid no attention to rumors of Rhodian disloyalty put about by their enemies. He then took aside Hagepolis, the leader of the embassy, and asked why Rhodes had not tried to broker a peace between Rome and Perseus. Hagepolis evidently took the consul’s words to heart, for a Rhodian embassy would later appear in Rome, offering their services as mediators in the war.118 Back in Rome, dispatches from Philippus were read out. He recounted his invasion of Macedon, and his success in securing supplies for the winter, much of which came from the Epirotes, who should be appropriately compensated. The consul also requested clothing for the army, and 200 horses, mostly Numidian. A decree authorizing the fulfillment of Philippus’ requests was passed, and the urban praetor C. Sulpicius Galus let out contracts for the transshipment to the front of 6,000 togas, 30,000 115

116 117

118

Livy 44.10.5–13.11; cf. Polyb. 29.6.1 (Demetrias); Diod. Sic. 30.12 (perhaps a reference to the skirmishing around Antigonea); Zon. 9.22.8. Livy 44.14.5–7. Polyb. 28.16. Livy 44.14.8–15.8 (cf. Dio fr. 66.2; Zon. 9.22.10), a report of a very hostile exchange between the senate and the Rhodian ambassadors, is an annalistic fabrication, designed to justify Rome’s post-war treatment of Rhodes. See now Burton 2011: 280–1 n. 61, with earlier scholarship there cited (to which add now Dmitriev 2011: 296; Briscoe 2012: 507–508). On Rome’s post-war treatment of Rhodes, see below, Chapter 7, pp. 178–81. Polyb. 28.17; cf. App. Mac. 17. On Philippus’ request to mediate “the present war” (τὸν ἐνεστῶτα πόλεμον: §4) – most likely a reference to the war with Perseus rather than the Sixth Syrian War – see now Burton 2011: 282 n. 61, with earlier scholarship there cited (to which add now Goukowsky 2011: 204 n. 194; Dmitriev 2011: 292, who argue against it being a reference to the Macedonian war).

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tunics, and 200 horses, and arranged the reimbursements for the Epirotes. Then a Macedonian noble, Onesimus, son of Pytho, addressed the senate. He said that he had persistently urged Perseus to make peace, and having fallen under suspicion of disloyalty to the king, had defected to the Romans and tried to make himself useful to the consul.119 The senate decreed that Onesimus should be enrolled in the formula sociorum, provided with lodging and entertainment, granted 200 iugera of ager publicus in the territory of Tarentum, and have a house purchased for him in Tarentum.120 Several months before the end of the year, the consular elections were held. L. Aemilius Paullus was elected consul for the second time, and was allotted the Macedonian command. He immediately arranged for the dispatch of a senatorial commission of three to reconnoiter and report on the Roman and Macedonian dispositions at the front. Cn. Octavius was allotted the fleet for the upcoming campaign against Macedon.121 *   *   *

The third year of the war, while certainly an improvement on the previous two years, was not an unqualified success for the Romans. Thanks to Philippus’ personal energy, fine generalship, and knowledge of the local terrain, a durable Roman presence had finally been established in Macedonia itself.122 Treatment of the allies, moreover, had greatly improved. But the consul failed to come to grips with Perseus, and his toe-hold in Macedon was at the extreme southern edge of the kingdom, at Heracleum. Despite attempting to do so, Philippus also failed to coordinate effectively with the Roman fleet, which almost led to disaster in terms of supply, and cost him dearly in terms of strategic advantage. He had advanced well past Pydna, making for the heart of Macedon itself, and perhaps a showdown with Perseus when, in fear of his thinly stretched supply lines, he withdrew first to Dium, where the fleet failed 119

120 121

122

To prove his bona fides, and to contrast the bellicose Perseus with the peaceful Philip V, Onesimus says the latter used to read through his treaty with Rome twice a day, every day, until he died (Livy 44.16.5). If Polybius is right that Philip was planning a war of revenge (above, Chapter 5, pp. 91–6), then he may have done this in order to “maintain the rage” (to use a common Australianism) rather than reinforce his dedication to peace with Rome. Briscoe 2012: 514 cites the instructive parallel of the Persian shah Darius after the Athenian sack of Sardis, who had a servant remind him three times before dinner each day of what the Athenians had done to him (Hdt. 5.105). Livy 44.16.1–7. Livy 44.17–18.5; cf. CIL 11.1829 (the elogium Paulli); Vell. 1.9.3 Val. Max. 1.5.3; Plut. Aem. 6.8–7.1, 10; Plut. Mor. 197F–198A; Just. Epit. 33.1.6. Plutarch insists (Aem. 10.5–6; cf. Mor. 197F; Just. Epit. 33.1.6; cf. Meloni 1953: 319–20 n. 4) that the people conferred the command of the war on Paullus, but this is probably wrong. The lot, nevertheless, may not have been completely arbitrary on this occasion. Benecke 1930: 264; Pareti 1953: 72.

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to supply him, forcing him to move south to Phila, where he could be supplied by land through Tempe. This allowed Perseus to recover Dium and his position in the Pierian plain – precisely the same position he was in when the campaigning season began. All the king had lost was control of the passes into Macedonia. The sense of stalemate persisted. It is perhaps no wonder that in the course of this year Prusias and Rhodes had been emboldened to offer to mediate the war, and Genthius was finally preparing to get off his fence.123

The Final Year of the War and the Battle of Pydna Within days of the new consuls taking office, the senatorial commissioners returned from the front and presented their report.124 They said that the Romans had been led through mountain paths at greater risk than the strategic gains justified; little separated the legions from the enemy camp other than the Elpeus River; Perseus refused to offer battle, while the Roman forces were too weak to compel him to; the Roman troops were sitting idle with supplies about to run out;125 Ap. Claudius had been prevented from opening up a second front against Perseus, and was now in danger with so few troops so close to hostile territory; the fleet was under-manned due to disease and desertions, and the sailors that remained had not been paid and were poorly clothed; Eumenes had come and gone with his fleet without cause; and Perseus was determined to fight on. The allegations were no doubt prompted well in advance by the consul Paullus himself, whose 123 124

125

Hammond 1988: 530. Mommsen 1856: 746–7; Niese 1903: 159–69; Colin 1905: 437–8; Kromayer 1907: 294–348; Meyer 1909; Heiland 1913: 65–70; De Sanctis 1923: 318–33, 369–76 (chronology); Kromayer and Veith 1924: 600–8; Pais 1926: 563–8; Benecke 1930: 267–72; May 1946: 52–4; Pareti 1953: 73–7, 81–96; Meloni 1953: 326–440; Lehmann 1969; Pritchett 1969: 145–63; Errington 1971: 220–1; Walbank 1979: 376–91 (far more than just a commentary!); McDonald 1981: 252–4; Hammond 1984 and 1988: 539–60; Reiter 1988: 39, 51–4, 99–100, 134–5; Derow 1989: 315–16; Lendon 2005: 193–211; Dzino 2010: 55–7; Goukowsky 2011: 205–8; Waterfield 2014: 187–90. Our main source is Livy (following Polybius, for the most part), but Plut. Aem. fills some Livian lacunae. Polybius will have had many eyewitness sources to the Pydna campaign, including Paullus himself, his sons, Scipio Aemilianus and Fabius Maximus (both of whom were intimates of Polybius), and Cato the Elder (whose son fought at Pydna). He may have spoken to Scipio Nasica, or at least have been familiar with his memoir, which Plutarch used as a source (see Appendix F). Polybius’ informants about the Macedonian side of the conflict will have been those courtiers of Philip who were later interned in Italy, like Polybius himself (above, Chapter 5, pp. 93–4). Concerning the amount of supplies, the Livian MS reads sex followed by a gap at 44.20.4. Editors have variously supplied dierum, mensium, and modium. Briscoe 2012: 528 now believes sex is corrupt as well, and would obelize it. The meaning is clear, however: the soldiers were sitting idle and consuming their quickly dwindling supplies. This is absurd, of course, since Roman supply lines through Tempe were now wide open.

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upcoming campaign could only benefit, in propaganda terms, by comparison with that of Marcius Philippus in the previous year.126 Military dispositions for the coming year were then taken in hand. Paullus’ colleague C. Licinius Crassus was ordered to enroll and send to his colleague in Macedonia 7,000 citizen infantry, 200 citizen cavalry, 7,000 Latin infantry, and 400 Latin cavalry, and to order the proconsul in Gaul, Cn. Servilius Caepio, to enroll 600 cavalry. With these, the two existing Macedonian legions were to be brought up to a strength of 6,000 infantry and 300 cavalry each, and the rest were to be distributed as garrisons. L.  Anicius Gallus, the praetor peregrinus, was ordered to replace Ap. Claudius in the Illyrian theater with much larger forces, now that Genthius was confirmed to be in alliance with Perseus.127 Anicius was to transport, in addition to the troops enrolled by Crassus, two legions of 5,200 infantry and 300 cavalry each, as well as 10,000 infantry and 800 cavalry from the allies. 5,000 sailors were enrolled for the eastern fleet as well.128 Before he departed, Paullus addressed the Roman people at a contio, warning them not to be misled by rumors, or to trust the pronouncements of armchair generals. The latter, the consul said, are in no position to say where a camp should be established, where garrisons should be installed, by what passes Macedonia should be invaded, where grain dumps should be placed, by what routes on land and sea supplies should be brought, or when to engage in battle. Such criticism of Rome’s generals was unfair to the troops and bad for morale. Shortly after the celebration of the Latin Festival, the consul and praetor Cn. Octavius departed Italy.129 126

127

128

129

Livy 44.20. Alternatively, Livy has simply adopted the very positive portrait of Paullus from his source, Polybius. In any case, little of what he says corresponds to reality (so Briscoe 2012: 527, against e.g. Meloni 1953: 324, who says the report contains some inaccuracy, but is substantially acceptable). Polyb. 29.3–4.7, 9.13, 11.3; Livy 44.23.1–4, 7–9, 26.2, 27.8–12; Val. Max. 3.3.2; Plut. Aem. 13.1–2; App. Mac. 18.1, Ill. 9; Dio fr. 66.1; Flor. 1.29.1 (where the Illyrians serving with Perseus are called mercenaries). The alliance was struck before winter, according to Polybius (29.3.1). Perseus promised Genthius 300 silver talents, but in the end only had to deliver ten, deciding to withhold the rest after Genthius publicly committed himself to the Macedonian cause by jailing some Roman ambassadors (see below, p. 162). Livy 44.21.4–11. The figure of 7,000 citizens at §5 is uncertain; the MS figure of 100,000 is absurd as it stands, but it may be a confusion for the total number of Roman forces in the field in the East (so Niese 1903: 153; Pais 1926: 564; Meloni 1953: 325 and n. 1, 336; Hammond 1988: 539–40). The net effect of the supplementary troops (Livy 44.21.7) is unknown, and so the total number of Roman troops in the East cannot be estimated with accuracy (Briscoe 2012: 589). Pareti 1953: 83 puts the number of troops accompanying Paullus at 30,000–35,000. Livy 44.22; cf. Polyb. 29.1; Plut. Aem. 11. Livy provides two dates for the Latin Festival – 31 March (pridie idus Apriles: 44.19.4) and 12 April (pridie kal. Apriles: 44.22.16).

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Perseus had not been inactive over winter months. He came close to receiving the support of 10,000 horsemen and 10,000 infantry with cavalry skills from the Bastarnae, but his reluctance to part with money got the better of him in the end, and he refused to pay the amount originally agreed upon for their services.130 Perseus tried but failed to secure the support of Antiochus IV as well,131 and despite promising beginnings, ultimately failed to secure the alliance of the Rhodians, who opted to mediate the war instead.132 Perseus also tried to bring Eumenes on side through a series of private negotiations, but the money the Pergamene king demanded as the price of his neutrality for the duration of the war failed to materialize, and negotiations broke down because Eumenes proved too deceptive, and Perseus too miserly.133 Polybius, for one, found Perseus’ greed baffling. Here was a king who, in the best case scenario, could have secured peace with Rome through Eumenes’ agency, and the survival of himself and his kingdom; in the worst case, regardless of whether he won or lost the war, he would have exposed Eumenes’ perfidy to the Romans, and thus have had his revenge on the Pergamene king for provoking the Romans into making war on Macedon in the first place.134 His reluctance to expend his treasure, however, was of a piece with his reluctance to risk his phalanx in the first three years of the war, despite being within an ace of victory several times. He was not the bold risktaker his father had been. After his embassy returned from Pergamum, Perseus sent forty lemboi and five smaller ships under the command of Antenor and Callippus from Cassandrea to Tenedos in order to protect Macedonian grain ships 130

131 132 133

134

Livy 44.26.2–27.7; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.19, 21.3; Plut. Aem. 13.1 (where the Bastarnae are called Gauls, but Bastarnae at Plut. Aem. 9.6–7, 12.4–7); App. Mac. 18 (where the Bastarnae are called Getae); Dio fr. 66.1 (where the Bastarnae are called Thracians); cf. Polyb. 29.9.13 (where the Bastarnae are called Galatians). They were, in fact, Bastarnae: Meloni 1953: 329–35; Pareti 1953: 75; Walbank 1979: 369; Ma 2011: 540; Briscoe 2012: 550. Their leader is variously called Clondicus (Livy 44.26.11, 27.2; perhaps the same man who took a contingent of 30,000 Bastarnae to attack the Dardani in 178 (Livy 40.58.8; see above, Chapter 4, pp. 58, 62–3); cf. Pareti 1953: 75–6 n. 1; Meloni 1953: 330), or Cloelius (App. Mac. 18.2–3). The figure of 100,000 Bastarnae, given by Plut. Aem. 12.7, is clearly absurd. The figure of 20,000 will have come from Polybius. Polyb. 29.4.8–10; Livy 44.24.1–7. Polyb. 29.3.7–9, 4.7, 10.1–11.6; Livy 44.23.4–6, 10, 29.6–8; discussion: Dmitriev 2011: 294, 303. Polyb. 29.4.8, 5.1–9.12; Livy 44.13.9–10, 12–14, 24–26.1, 27.13; App. Mac. 18.1; Dio fr. 66.1. The figure given in Polybius (29.8.5) as the price for Eumenes’ neutrality – 500 talents – is to be preferred to Appian’s 1,000 talents (Mac. 18.1) (Pais 1926: 563; Pareti 1953: 74; Meloni 1953: 339 and n. 1; contra Waterfield 2014: 195). On the historicity of these negotiations, see Burton 2011: 293–4, and below, Chapter 7, pp. 181–2. Polyb. 29.9.7–11. Eumenes’ belief (not Polybius’, contra Walbank 1979: 368; Briscoe 2012: 546) that the Romans had made no progress in the war (Polyb. 29.7.5) before 168 is patently wrong.

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scattered throughout the Aegean.135 At Tenedos, the fleet encountered some Rhodian ships, which the commanders sent away unharmed and with kind words. Antenor surprised some Pergamene war-ships on the other side of the island, which were currently blockading fifty Macedonian cargo ships. The war-ships fled, and Antenor dispatched the cargo ships to Macedonia under escort of ten of his lemboi. He rejoined the rest of the fleet at Sigeum near the Hellespont before sailing down to Subota off the southern tip of Chios.136 In the narrow straits between Chios and the Asia Minor coast, the Macedonian lemboi intercepted thirty-five Galatian horse transports that had been dispatched by Eumenes to his brother Attalus, who was in Macedonia with the Roman forces. Some of the Galatians swam for it, and others beached their ships on Chios and fled. The Macedonians killed 800 and captured 200, and hamstrung whatever horses had not been lost at sea, reserving the twenty finest specimens to be sent, along with the prisoners, to Thessalonica. The Macedonian fleet then sailed for Delos.137 Because of the sacredness of the site, no hostile action could be taken against the Macedonians. When a Roman embassy on its way to Alexandria called in at Delos and encountered the lemboi and the Pergamene quinqueremes there, they did nothing. Instead, the Macedonian fleet made brief forays into the Cyclades to attack any cargo ships not bound for Macedonia, and then one of the ambassadors, C. Popillius Laenas, would sail out with Roman or Pergamene ships to try to effect a rescue. He was outwitted by the Macedonians, who only sailed by night in groups of two or three ships.138 In late February (Julian), the consul Paullus arrived in Macedonia, the praetor Cn. Octavius met the fleet at Oreus, and the praetor L. Anicius Gallus arrived in Illyria to fight Genthius. The latter was holding Lissus with 15,000 men, whence he dispatched his brother Caravantius with 1,000 infantry and 50 cavalry to attack the Cavii, while he himself marched against the city of Bassania, a Roman ally. Caravantius received the surrender of Durnium, but ravaged the territory of Caravandis when that town shut its gates to him. Some of his men were killed by farmers still in their fields. Meanwhile, Genthius was besieging Bassania when Ap. Claudius marched out with his forces, augmented by auxiliaries of the 135

136

137 138

Appian (Mac. 18.4) wrongly states that the fleet’s purpose was to prevent grain from reaching the Roman army. Not the more famous Sybota islands off the coast of Epirus, of course, but probably the tiny island of Venetico (so Briscoe 2012: 558). Livy 44.28; cf. Polyb. 29.11.3; App. Mac. 18.4. Livy 44.29.1–5.

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Bullini, as well as citizens of Dyrrachium and Apollonia, and encamped by the Genusus (Shkumbi) River (Map 1). Three days later, the praetor Anicius arrived in camp, having added 2,000 infantry and 200 cavalry of the Parthini, amici of the Romans since the First Illyrian War in 229. His lifting of the siege of Bassania was delayed by reports that eighty Illyrian lemboi were ravaging the coastal area around Apollonia and Dyrrhachium. Some of these Anicius captured, and then went on to defeat Genthius in battle, and shut him up in a fortress.139 After this, the townspeople of the cities under Genthius’ control surrendered to the praetor. Anicius then marched against Genthius’ capital Scodra. The inhabitants marched out and engaged the Romans, but 200 were cut down while trying to exit through the city gate. Genthius sent envoys to Anicius to seek a truce. Three days were granted, during which time the king waited for his brother to arrive with reinforcements. When these failed to materialize, at the end of the three days, Genthius arrived at the Roman camp and surrendered. He then dined with the praetor, after which he was placed in the custody of C. Cassius, a tribunus militum. Anicius freed the Roman ambassadors Genthius had earlier jailed, L. Petilius and M. Perpenna, and sent Perpenna to arrest the members of Genthius’ family. Perpenna was then dispatched to Rome to report that the Illyrian war was over within thirty days of the praetor’s arrival, and a few days later, Genthius, his mother Etleva, her two children Pleuratus and Scerdilaidas, and the king’s brother Caravantius were sent to Rome under guard.140 At this time, Perseus was reinforcing strategic points around the coastal areas of his kingdom (Map 3). He sent a force to camp near the dockyards of Thessalonica, adding to the existing garrison of 2,000 light infantry in the town, 1,000 cavalry to protect the coastal area around Aenea, and 5,000 troops to garrison the Petra pass. The king himself began fortifying the bank of the Elpeus River, which was now dry, and thus crossable by enemy forces. The consul Paullus soon arrived at the Elpeus from his position at Phila, and was immediately faced with the problem of water supply. He ordered his soldiers to dig wells near the sea, suspecting that fresh water flowed beneath the sands. No sooner had they started to dig than 139

140

Because a large lacuna opens up at the end of Livy 44.30, the closing details are supplied by App. Ill. 9. Polyb. 29.13, a description of Genthius’ character, including his drunkenness, corresponds to Livy 44.30.2. For the Illyrian king’s alcoholism, see further Aelian VH 2.41. On drunkenness in Polybius generally, see Eckstein 1995: 285–9. Livy 44.31–32.5; cf. Plut. Aem. 13.3; Flor. 1.29.2; App. Ill. 9 (20 days); Fest. Brev. 7.5; Eutrop. 4.6.4; Zon. 9.24.1. Meloni 1953: 358 and n. 4 accepts Appian’s 20 days against the vast majority of scholars (Colin 1905: 436; Heiland 1913: 65; De Sanctis 1923: 318; Pais 1926: 565 (four weeks); Pareti 1953: 84; Niese 1903: 159 splits the difference (three to four weeks)).

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jets of fresh water burst forth. The consul then ordered the soldiers to ready their weapons, while he himself with the tribunes and the six senior centurions reconnoitered the Elpeus bank for likely crossing places. He then improved the system for the conveyance of orders down the battle line, and ordered soldiers on sentry duty not to carry a spear (which was often used as a prop for catnaps), and the soldiers at the outposts to be relived at midday by fresh guards (to avoid the exhaustion of horses and men, who had to stand around all day in full panoply under the blazing sun).141 An odd lull enveloped the two camps, now facing each other across the dry riverbed of the Elpeus.142 News of Anicius’ victory over Genthius arrived, lifting the spirits of the Romans, and causing panic among the Macedonians. A Rhodian embassy arrived at the Roman camp offering to broker a peace, and despite calls for them to be thrown in chains or driven out of the camp, Paullus said he would give them his response later on.143 He then held a council of war at which various suggestions were canvassed: that the army should march across the riverbed and storm the Macedonian fortifications; or that the fleet should be sent to ravage the coast near Thessalonica, thus forcing the king to divide his forces and thin out the defenders of the riverbank opposite. Neither of these appealed to the consul, and he dismissed the council. He then summoned two Perrhaebian merchants, Coenus and Menophilus by name, and inquired into the state of the passes into their native territory. They said that Perseus had regarrisoned Pythium and the Petra pass with 5,000 men (Figure 6.3).144 Paullus assigned the task of dislodging the garrison and taking Pythium and Petra to one of his sons, Q. Fabius Maximus, and P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica. He then ordered Octavius to bring the fleet to Heracleum with ten days’ worth of cooked rations for a thousand men. He dispatched Scipio and Fabius with 5,000 men to Heracleum in order to deceive the Macedonians into thinking their task was to board the ships, and sail toward Thessalonica to ravage the Chalcidicean coastline. The Romans were to collect the rations 141

142

143

144

Livy 44.32.5–34.1; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.20.1; Val. Max. 2.7.14; Plut. Aem. 12.1, 13.4–14.2, Galb. 1.2 and Mor. 198A; Zon. 9.23.1–2. Livy (44.33.8) says Paullus forbid sentries from carrying a shield, Plutarch, in one passage, a spear (Aem. 13.7), and in another passage, a spear and sword (Mor. 198A). Plut. Aem. 13.7 is likely correct (so Briscoe 2012: 574). On the chronology of this part of the campaign, see De Sanctis 1923: 369–76; Meloni 1953: 376–7 and 1954; Pédech 1964: 453 n. 126; Pritchett 1969: 145 n. 1; Walbank 1979: 381, and below, n. 153, against Oost 1953. He probably did not specify the fifteen days that appears at Livy 44.35.5 (Livy clearly imported the figure from 45.41.5, where Paullus claims to have completed the war in fifteen days), but gave the Rhodians a rough timeframe within which he was certain he would be victorious. See Appendix E.

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Figure 6.3 The Turning Movement by Scipio Nasica

Octavius brought, and begin their journey toward Pythium at nightfall.145 Meanwhile, to further distract the enemy, at dawn the next day Paullus engaged with the Macedonian outposts in the middle of the riverbed. Both sides took considerable casualties before the Romans withdrew around midday. The consul did the same the next day, but after reaching the far bank

145

On Scipio’s route, see Walbank 1979: 381 (with bibliography), where three possibilities are canvassed. I think Pritchett 1969: 159–60 (against Kromayer 1907: 303, among many others) is probably right that the route via Tempe is too circuitous, and not really opposite the sea at Heracleum (per Plut. Aem. 15.8). The Romans knew about the Lake Ascuris route via the Callipeuce forest, which they used to such great effect in 169, and so this is the best candidate. Scipio marched “from Skotina past Nezero [near Lake Ascuris] towards Kallithea [near Oloosson]” (Pritchett 1969: 160). For the completion of the flanking maneuver, see below, n. 149.

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of the riverbed, was forced to retreat after taking even greater losses than on the day before. On the third day, the Romans did not venture out of their camp.146 By this point Scipio, Fabius, and their force of 5,000 men had surprised in their beds and overwhelmed the 5,000-man Macedonian garrison at Pythium in the Petra pass.147 When Perseus heard about this, fearing he would be trapped in his current position on the north bank of the Elpeus, marched further north to Pydna, taking up his position a little over a mile away from the city (Figure 6.4). The ground was flat and smooth – perfect for deploying his phalanx – and flanked by some hills, which would give his skirmishers cover when they retired from harassing the Roman wings. There were also two rivers, the Aeson and the Leucus, which, though shallow (this being early summer), would nevertheless cause some trouble for the Romans.148 Paullus rendezvous-ed with Scipio, who had marched around the foothills of Mt. Olympus along a goat-track,149 and then moved north with the legions, where they encountered Perseus’ army massed in a double phalanx before Pydna.150 The consul, surprised by the Macedonians’ battle-readiness and dismayed by the phalanx’s deployment on ground of the king’s choosing, had to devise a way to convince his weary, yet eager men (and especially Scipio) not to rush into battle precipitously, but to wait until the next day, after they were fresh and rested.151 He ordered the centurions of the first rank to lay out the camp while he himself rode through the ranks delivering a lengthy battle exhortation. The ruse worked: as the time approached high noon, and Paullus kept talking, the heat of the sun sapped the men’s spirits and strength. Once the camp was laid out, Paullus quietly began withdrawing his men from the 146

147

148

149

150

151

Livy 44.34.10–35.24; cf. Polyb. 29.14.1–3 (= Plut. Aem. 15.3–5), 4 (on Ligurian shields); Plut. Aem. 15.1–7 (with exaggerated numbers for Scipio’s force, see Appendix F); Zon. 9.23.2–3. Plut. Aem. 16.1–3 (with the dubious epic battle with Perseus’ 12,000 men, see Appendix F). Unfortunately, Livy’s Polybian account has disappeared into a large lacuna after 44.35.24. There is some controversy as to the exact location of Perseus’ camp. See Kromayer 1907: 310–16 with Karte 9; Meyer 1909; Heiland 1913: 69; Benecke 1930: 269; Meloni 1953: 394; Pareti 1953: 87; Pritchett 1969: 152–3 with map on 147; Walbank 1979: 385; McDonald 1981: 252; Derow 1989: 316 (between the modern Pelikas (= Aeson) and Mavroneri (= Leucus) Rivers), vs. Hammond 1984: 37, with map on 34, and 1988: 552, with map on 554 (= my Figure 6.4) (north of the Yeoryios River, nearer to the coast). Pacuv. Paulus 5 (apparently a reference to the goat track by which Scipio skirted Mt. Olympus). For his route back to the coast (not via Vrondi to Kalivia Fteri but via Petra through the Petra pass), see Hammond 1984: 36 with map on 32 (= my Figure 6.3) (decisive against Kromayer 1907: 306; Meloni 1953: 369). For the location of Perseus’ camp, see Figure 6.4 and above, n. 148. For the double phalanx, see Front. Str. 2.3.20, which Hammond 1984: 39 and n. 28, 42–3 convincingly argues was Perseus’ initial deployment, which the Romans first encountered before withdrawing to their camp for a few days. On the day of the battle itself, only a single phalanx nearly a mile long was used. See further n. 155. No doubt Scipio’s eagerness to fight is another bit of self-promotion from his memoir (see Appendix F). His words included the patently false claim that all previous Roman commanders shrank from battle with Perseus. This was only true of Marcius Philippus; Licinius Crassus and A. Hostilius had both engaged the Macedonians and been defeated.

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Figure 6.4 The Roman and Macedonian First Positions before Pydna

field, starting with the reserve units, followed by the middle lines, and then the front line, one maniple at a time, beginning with the right wing. When Perseus figured out what was going on, he ordered the phalanx to advance, forcing Paullus to order the cavalry to gallop across the front of the phalanx. The cavalry and light troops only withdrew after Perseus, realizing he had lost the initiative, sent his men into camp as well.152 That night (21 June), a lunar eclipse took place. The Romans were overjoyed for the same reason that Perseus’ men

152

Frontin. Str. 2.3.20, who, however, unduly exaggerates the effect of the Roman cavalry maneuvers, saying they broke off the points of the enemy sarissae, forcing the Macedonians to break and flee (Hammond 1984: 43).

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were deeply disturbed by the phenomenon: it was regarded as an omen portending the fall of Macedon.153 Paullus purposely delayed deploying the legions early the next morning. Indeed, because the strategic situation still favored Perseus, he would have let the day pass without action, despite the eagerness of his men for battle. But then fortuna, according to Livy, took a hand: Around the ninth hour, a pack-animal slipped out of the hands of its grooms and fled to the opposite bank. While three soldiers were chasing it through the river, which was almost knee-deep, two Thracians captured the animal and were dragging it from the middle of the stream to their bank. The Romans then gave chase, killed one of the men, recaptured the animal, and returned to their post. There was a guard of 800 Thracians on the enemy bank. At first a few of these, infuriated that one of their fellows had been slaughtered before their eyes, crossed the river to pursue the killers, then more followed, then finally the entire force.154

Hearing the commotion, Perseus and Paullus hastily deployed their armies. The king’s Paeonian auxiliaries and mercenary troops clashed with the Roman advance guard while the phalanx was drawn up behind. The Roman skirmishers were driven back to within a quarter of a mile of their camp. By the time Paullus brought his two legions up, Perseus had deployed his phalanx, sixteen ranks deep and nearly a mile long, with the Thracians, mercenaries, and the Macedonian peltasts on the left, and Perseus himself with 3,000 Macedonian horse, and 10,000 mixed Gauls, Cretans, Greeks, and more peltasts on the right.155 The phalanx advanced on the Roman light infantry, mostly Paeligni and Marrucini, with devastating effect. The long sarissae of the phalangites penetrated the shields and armor of the Italian cohorts, who, because of the length of the sarissae, could not get near enough to the Macedonians and use their swords against them. In an attempt to break the stalemate, a heroic Italian leader and his men made the ultimate sacrifice: Salvius, the commander of the Paelignians, grabbed the standard of those under his command and cast it into the enemy ranks. Then the 153

154 155

Polyb. 29.16. Other sources discussed in Appendix F. The dates of the eclipse and of the battle (22 June) seem to be confirmed by an Athenian inscription honoring a certain Calliphanes (ISE 35). The inscription also confirms, incidentally, that both Attalus and Athenaeus, Eumenes’ brothers, served with the Romans at Pydna (only Attalus is mentioned at Livy 44.36.8). Livy 44.40.7–10; cf. Zon. 9.22.5 (against Plut. Aem. 18.1, 3). See Appendix F. For the deployment, see Hammond 1984: 39 and n. 28, 42–3 (above, n. 150), against e.g. Walbank 1979: 388 (with earlier scholarship there cited). The Roman numbers are not recorded. Kromayer’s estimates (1909: 343–4) of 33,400 infantry, 4,200 cavalry, and 22 elephants are as good as any. Meyer 1909: 786 suggests 30,000–35,000; Pritchett 1969: 158, 38,000; Hammond 1984: 46, “short of 40,000.”

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Rome and the Third Macedonian War Paelignians – for the Italians consider it neither righteous nor allowed by the gods to abandon a standard – rushed toward the place where it was, and terrible losses were suffered and inflicted on both sides. For the Italians tried to knock aside the Macedonian sarissas with their swords and press them back with their shields, or to take hold of them with their very hands and turn them aside, but the Macedonians, strengthening their spear-thrust using both hands ran through those who fell on them … The Paelignians and Marrucini with the fury of wild beasts threw themselves onto the blows that met them, and certain death. Thus they were cut to pieces.156

The remnants of this contingent soon withdrew to Mt. Olorcus. Paullus, horrified by the slaughter of the Italians, almost despaired when he saw the legions begin to withdraw slightly before the bristling wall of sarissae. But then he noticed that as portions of the extended enemy line began to advance at an uneven rate over undulating terrain, the integrity of the phalanx began to deteriorate, and gaps were beginning to open up in the lines. He first ordered the elephants to be brought up on the right wing and sent them in against the enemy; a charge of the Latin allies followed, and the Macedonian left crumbled.157 Paullus then focused on the center, and ordered his main cohorts to penetrate the gaps in the Macedonian lines. This was the beginning of the end: As soon as the Romans plunged into the enemy ranks and separated them, they attacked some of the Macedonians in their unprotected flank, and cut off others by encircling them in the rear. The strength and general effectiveness of the phalanx, thus broken up, was now lost. The Macedonians [cast aside their sarissae and] were forced to fight either man to man or in small groups; they could only put up a poor resistance, hacking with their small daggers at the solid and tall shields of the Romans, and opposing with their wicker shields the Roman swords, which, through their weight and momentum, penetrated through all their armor to their bodies.158

The Macedonian center was routed. Perseus fled to Pella with Cotys and his cavalry not far behind, followed by the Macedonian cavalry.159 The 156 157

158 159

Plut. Aem. 20.1–5. Why Perseus’ elephantomachae – specially trained troops equipped with shields and helmets studded with sharp nails (Zon. 9.22.7)  – were not deployed against the Roman right is unknown. Polybius (29.17.2; cf. Livy 44.41.4) remarks on their absence from the battle. Discussion: Walbank 1979: 389, with earlier scholarship there cited. Plut. Aem. 20.9–10; Livy 44.41.6–9. Perseus is said to have departed the battlefield early on, either through fright (per Polybius), or because he had been kicked on the leg by a horse the day before, and was then seriously injured by an iron javelin grazing his left side (per a contemporary historian, Posidonius). Plut. Aem. 19.4, 7–10 reports both versions, indicating his preference by devoting more space to Posidonius’ (not, of course, the more famous Posidonius of Apamea, fl. ca. 135–51). In any case, “the story of an early

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Romans continued chewing up what was left of the phalanx from all sides. Those few Macedonians who managed to escape dropped their weapons and ran for the shore before Pydna town. They swam out toward the boats deployed by the Roman fleet, thinking they would be taken prisoner, but the Roman marines instead began slaughtering them where they swam. The survivors turned tail and swam back toward the shore, but the elephants, recently brought up by their mahouts, trampled and crushed them as they emerged onto the beach. In the end, the Romans killed 20,000 men and took 11,000 prisoner. Roman losses amounted to fewer than a hundred, mostly Paeligni, with many more wounded. Perseus’ army of 43,000 men, a formidable fighting force that had been built up over twenty-five years, first by Philip V, and then by Perseus himself, had been destroyed in less than an hour.160 Meanwhile, Perseus reached Pella, but afraid of being betrayed by his men, escaped with his closest companions, Evander the Cretan, Neon the Boeotian, and Archidamus the Aetolian, to Amphipolis. The king sent envoys to Paullus to seek peace, and then departed the city for the sacred island of Samothrace, taking what treasure he had left with him.161 By this time, Beroea, Thessalonica, and Pella had surrendered to Paullus, and Pydna had been thoroughly plundered after shutting its gates to the consul. Paullus then dispatched Scipio to Amphipolis to interfere as best he could with the king’s movements, and to plunder Sintica. The praetor Octavius captured and plundered Meliboea near Mt. Ossa, and the legate Cn. Anicius was sent to attack Aeginium in

160

161

withdrawal [by Perseus] is to be treated with suspicion” (Walbank 1979: 390; cf. Pareti 1953: 92 and n. 2; McDonald 1981: 254, against e.g. Meloni 1953: 398; Hammond 1984: 46; Eckstein 1995: 37 and n. 35). Pareti 1953: 92 n. 2 rejects both Posidonius’ and Polybius’ versions; Meyer 1909: 802–3; De Sanctis 1923: 326 try to harmonize the two; Hammond 1988: 557 accepts Posidonius’ version; Meloni 1953: 385 and n. 4 rejects it. It could be that the battle lasted such a short time that any withdrawal by Perseus before it was over may have seemed premature in retrospect. Sources for the battle: Pacuv. Paulus 1–4; Polyb. 29.17.1–4; Diod. Sic. 30.22.1; Livy 44.40.2–42.9, 44.1–3; Plut. Aem. 18–22.1 (who says 25,000 of the enemy were killed); Vell. Pat. 9.1.4; Frontin. Str. 2.3.20, 4.5.20; Plut. Cat. Mai. 20.10–11, Mor. 70A–B; Flor. 1.28.8–9; Just. Epit. 33.2.1–4; [Euseb.] Chron. 239.2; [Vict.] Vir. Ill. 58.1; Eutrop. 4.7.1; Oros. 4.20.39; Zon. 9.23.5–7. Plutarch Aem. 21.1–5; Cat. Mai. 20.10–11 (cf. Just. Epit. 33.2.1–4) is an account of an aristeia by the son of Cato the Elder, who lost his sword in the battle but fought bravely to retrieve it. Livy 44.44.1–3 (cf. Plut. Aem. 22.3–9; Diod. Sic. 30.22; [Vict.] Vir. Ill. 58.10) records Paullus’ anxiety when his 17-year-old son, Scipio Aemilianus, briefly went missing. Livy 44.43, 45.1–2, 12–15; Diod. Sic. 30.21.1–2; Plut. Aem. 23; Zon. 9.23.7. The story of the Macedonian governor Diodorus tricking his Thracian garrison into departing Amphipolis, lest they make trouble following the announcement of the result of Pydna (Livy 44.44.4–8; Frontin. Str. 3.16.5 (where the governor is called Diodotus)), may be apocryphal, for the Thracians are still in the city at Livy 45.13 (so Briscoe 2012: 603 against e.g. Meloni 1953: 403; Pareti 1953: 93).

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Thessaly, where he killed 200 of the townspeople when they sallied out against him.162 Paullus soon reached Pella (Map 3), but found the royal treasury empty, except for the 290 talents that had been held back from Genthius. There he received congratulatory embassies, most of them from Thessaly. Upon hearing that Perseus was on Samothrace, he left for Amphipolis, where the Romans were welcomed with open arms. Paullus then marched northwest to Sirae, where he was met with envoys bearing a letter from Perseus. Witnessing the envoys’ low rank, shabby appearance, and tears, Paullus contemplated the lot of man, and, shedding a few tears himself, briefly felt sympathy for Perseus. The mood passed, however, when the consul read Perseus’ opening salutation, in which he called himself “King of the Macedonians.” The envoys were dismissed without a response. Perseus soon stopped using his title in subsequent letters to the consul, but peace negotiations kept foundering because he insisted on retaining his title, while Paullus would not be budged from his position that Perseus must surrender himself and his kingdom to Rome’s complete discretion. In the end, it was the praetor Octavius who secured the surrender of the king. Livy, perhaps following Polybius, who, as was seen in the previous chapter, may have heard about Perseus’ last days from his former courtiers in exile in Italy, reports that the king was gradually abandoned by most of his friends, he had Evander the Cretan assassinated (thus profaning a sacred sanctuary with the blood of the man who had allegedly profaned Delphi by attacking Eumenes there in 172), and was betrayed and abandoned by Oroandes, another Cretan, who absconded with the king’s treasure. When Octavius announced an amnesty for the royal pages and any other Macedonians on Samothrace if they surrendered immediately, Perseus was left alone with his eldest son Philip. He soon surrendered, and was sent to the consul at his camp near Amphipolis, where he was treated kindly and entertained by Paullus.163 162

163

Livy 44.44.4–7, 46.1–3. The relationship of this Anicius to the praetor is unknown. It is likely that Aeginium defected to the pro-Macedonian Molossian Epirotes, whose land bordered the town (so Briscoe 2012: 606). At 45.27.1–4, Livy records that Paullus sent his son Fabius Maximus to plunder Aeginium and Agassae, and L. Postumius Albinus to plunder Aenus. This could be a doublet or a continuation of the same operation recorded at Livy 44.46.3. On the identity of the town Postumius was sent to attack (Aenus rather than Aenea), see Briscoe 2012: 691 (contra Hammond: 1988: 563; Meloni 1953: 409, who apparently forgot that Aenus refused to open its port to the Roman fleet in 171 and 170; cf. above, p. 140). Polyb. 29.20–1; Cic. Tusc. 5.118; Livy 44.46.4–9; 45.4.2–8.8; Diod. Sic. 29.25.1; Vell. Pat. 1.9.4–5; Val. Max. 5.1.8; Plut. Aem. 26–7; Dio fr. 66.3–4; Flor. 1.28.9–11; Eutrop. 4.7.2; Ampel. 16.4; Zon. 9.23.7–10. The story of the murder of Evander may be apocryphal; he may have committed suicide

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Conclusion The Battle of Pydna, like the war itself, was a near-run thing. It could have all been over for the Romans shortly after the heroic sacrifice of the Paeligni and Marrucini when, Plutarch says, Paullus rent his garments as he witnessed his legions falling back before the devastating onslaught of the Macedonian phalanx. The phalanx was, he would later say, the most terrifying thing he had ever seen in his life.164 Fortunately for the Romans, the extended phalanx lost its formation as it advanced across the plain to more uneven ground. But why had the war itself been such a long and difficult affair, which often enough threatened to end in disaster for Rome? No senator, of course, expected the war to be easy; division of opinion and the lengthy period of deliberation before war was declared are enough to show that. There is enough evidence, however, to show that by the end of the second year, there was genuine confusion in Rome as to why the war had not yet been won. The dispatch of a senatorial commission of inquiry to the East in 170 and, shortly afterward, the election of the experienced Marcius Philippus as one of the consuls of 169 cannot be otherwise explained. By the time Paullus had been put in charge of the war, he could refer to the war before the Roman people as “long and drawn out.”165 The explanations for the length and difficulty of the war, as has been seen, need not lie entirely on the Roman side of the ledger. Perseus’ men were obviously well trained and drilled. The king enjoyed home ground advantage, which he seized early on and controlled for longer than expected. The Romans may have underestimated their antagonist. He showed incredible energy and daring, mounting winter campaigns, waging war on multiple fronts simultaneously, and quickly seizing opportunities when they presented themselves. But he was also hesitant, often made mistakes, and sometimes exhibited erratic behavior. When faced with the Romans, he was inconsistent; when left to his own devices, he approached the strategic brilliance and daring of his father. On the Roman side, failures of command and control recur throughout the war, from the defeats of Licinius and Hostilius in battle, through the failure of Marcius to hold Dium due to problems of supply, to Paullus being forced

164 165

of his own accord (so Briscoe 2012: 623), or after being sentenced to death by Perseus (so Meloni 1953: 406). On the denouement to Pydna, especially in terms of how the king’s Friends “decoupled” themselves from him, see Ma 2011: 527–8, 542–3. Polyb. 29.17.1; Plut. Aem. 19.2. [Bellum] diu trahitur (Livy 44.22.3).

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to fight on ground favorable to the enemy. Three problems in particular stand out above all: the failure of the Romans, more often than not, to make effective use of their fleet; the inexperience and indiscipline of the Roman soldiery, a consequence of recruitment problems; and the inability (or unwillingness) by Roman commanders to restrain themselves or their troops from giving in to anger and frustration, with grim consequences for friend and foe alike. The first problem is a genuine puzzle, although the fragmentary state of our sources may be responsible for concealing a more coherent naval policy. As it stands, however, the tradition seems to indicate that the Roman navy functioned as little more than a pirate fleet, transporting raiding and plundering parties into southern Boeotia in 171, Euboea and the Thracian coast in 171 and 170, and the Chalcidice in 169. This may link the first problem with the second and third, which are themselves connected. The difficulties of recruitment should put paid to the idea that simple (or exceptional) Roman greed explains why the Romans undertook the war against Perseus. Plundering certainly took place, and on a massive scale. But greed for plunder was less a cause than a consequence of service. The fact that Roman commanders felt compelled, usually at the end of frustrating campaigning seasons, to unleash their troops on enemy (and sometimes friendly) cities, or, as in the case of Hostilius, to provide generous leave to their men, is further proof that the consuls had great difficulty finding enough recruits. Men of experience were especially hard to recall to the standards. In the field, the generals pandered to their men because they saw them as an increasingly rare and valuable commodity. The result was a serious imbalance in the traditional commander–soldier relationship: the auctoritas of the imperator was no longer met with the commensurate level of disciplina and obedience from the miles. This is why Paullus insisted on sending a senatorial commission to investigate the state of the military before he departed Rome, and told the Roman people (some of whom, presumably, would be accompanying him to Macedonia as soldiers) not to lower morale by trusting the analysis of armchair generals. Still, this did not exempt him from pressure from his own troops to fight Perseus on ground unfavorable to themselves or, as will be seen in the following chapter, to unleash them on the hapless cities of Macedonia and Epirus in the war’s aftermath.

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7

Aftermath

The Crackdown The short-term consequences of the Roman victory in the Third Macedonian War were predictably devastating for Rome’s enemies, starting with the Macedonians themselves. King Perseus was dispatched from the consul’s camp near Amphipolis to Rome, where he would later be displayed in a cage during Paullus’ triumph. The last of the Antigonids was then thrown into a dank and smelly underground prison at Alba Fucens, around sixty miles east of Rome. According to one tradition, he endured these conditions for seven days until Paullus convinced the senate to intervene and place him under house arrest in more comfortable conditions. Perseus lingered on at Alba Fucens until 165, when, according to Plutarch, most authorities said he starved himself to death. Some sources, however, recorded that he somehow offended his guards, who then slowly killed him through sleep deprivation, since they had been forbidden to injure him physically. The former king of Macedon was given a state funeral.1 The kingdom of Macedon, as is well-known, ceased to exist. The traditional four administrative units/regions (merides) of the Macedonian kingdom were formally restructured into four semi-autonomous states (Map 3).2 To the first meris, consisting of the districts around Amphipolis between the Nessus and Strymon Rivers, were added some of Perseus’ former Thracian holdings east of the Nessus (excluding the free cities of 1

2

Sources for Perseus’ death: Polyb. 36.10.3; Sall. Hist. 4.67.7; Diod. Sic. 31.9.1–5; Vell. Pat. 1.11.1; Val. Max. 5.1.1 (public funeral); Plut. Aem 37.2–4; [Euseb] Chron 239.2 (who dates his death to 162); Zon. 9.24.5. The ban on injuring him (so Plut. Aem. 37.3) may have arisen from the fact that he was taken into Roman custody before the gods of Samothrace, which resulted in a pledge not to kill him (so the Sallust passage). Diodorus and Plutarch are the source of the story of Paullus securing Perseus’ family’s transfer from prison to house arrest (cf. Velleius, who characterizes Perseus as a prisoner on parole). See above, Chapter 1, p. 5. Given the Macedonian origin of the merides, I fail to see how the Romans behaved “rather sinisterly” in perpetuating these arrangements, as Waterfield 2014: 193.

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Aenus, Maronea, and Abdera).3 The second Meris, Amphaxitis, consisting of the lands between the Strymon and the Axius Rivers, was expanded to encompass the part of the Antigonid stratēgia of Paeonia on the right bank of the Axius.4 The third meris, Bottia, containing the lands between the Axius and Peneus, was unchanged, while the fourth, Upper Macedonia, stretching to the borders of Illyricum and Epirus, included the western part of Paeonia (which, along with Derioppus, was called Pelagonia).5 In terms of the legal framework for the new states, the Macedonians were to be free, self-governing, and in full possession of their laws, cities, and lands; they had to elect annual magistrates, and were to pay to the Romans half the annual taxes (on land) they paid to their kings – amounting to 100 talents.6 Each meris was to have its own assembly, which would meet at its capital (Amphipolis in the first meris, Thessalonica in the second, Pella in the third, and Heraclea Lyncestis in the fourth), gather the tax revenue, and elect its magistrates.7 The bi-annual gatherings of the entire assembly of the Macedones at Pella or Aegae were abolished.8 Intermarriage between citizens of different merides (ius connubium) was declared legally invalid, as were the sale and trade of land and buildings (ius commercium).9 The first, second, and fourth merides were to have their own garrison units, stationed along their frontiers with the Thracians, Illyrians, and Dardanians. The gold and silver mines were shut down, and the importation of salt was forbidden. The Macedonians were no longer allowed to use their forests to cut ship timbers, or to permit others to do so.10 In a process resembling “de-Ba’athification” after the ouster of Saddam Hussein from Iraq in ad 3

4 5 6

7

8 9

10

Hatzopoulos 1996: 248 doubts that the other addition to the first meris mentioned by Livy – the Bisaltae and Heraclea Sintica on the right bank of the Strymon – was a Roman innovation, but in fact reflected the traditional Antigonid boundary. Hatzopoulos 1996: 253. Livy 45.29.5–9; Diod. Sic. 31.8.8; Strabo 7 fr. 47, with Hatzopoulos 1996: 248–50. Livy 45.18.7, 29.4; Diod. Sic. 31.8.3, 5; Eutrop. 4.7.3; Suda, s.u. Αἰμίλιος; cf. Plut. Aem. 28.3–5 (reporting the figure of 100 talents); Just. Epit. 32.3.7. The leges that Paullus foreshadows he would establish (Livy 45.31.1) may refer to alterations to the legibus suis at Livy 45.29.4 to bring the existing law-codes into line with the new Roman restrictions on connubium, commercium, etc. (see below). Livy 45.29.9 (where the assemblies are called concilia; cf. 45.18.7 (consilia, necessarily emended to concilia by most editors: Briscoe 2012: 663)). The identity of the capital of the fourth meris is uncertain. Livy writes Pelagonia, which is a region, not a city. Hammond 1988: 565 n. 4; Hatzopoulos 1996: 254 opt for “the Pelagonians,” Benecke 1930: 274 n. 2; Briscoe 2012: 705, for Heraclea Lyncestis. Livy 45.29.6–7. On the important distinction between legally invalid, as opposed to illegal, in these circumstances, see Briscoe 2012: 705. Livy 45.29.10–11, 14. The s.c. also forbid the leasing of mines and rural estates, which, according to Livy (45.18.3–5), would require publicani to oversee the process, resulting in seditiones and certamina. This may be an anachronistic back-projection of a problem that would affect the province of Asia later on in the century. See Briscoe 2012: 659–61.

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2003, all former Macedonian officials and associates of Perseus  – pages, Friends, military commanders, officeholders, even ambassadors  – were purged. They were ordered to quit Macedonia and make their way to Italy, or be put to death.11 Livy tells us that arrangements similar to those mandated for Macedonia were to be implemented in Illyricum – similia his et in Illyricum mandata.12 L. Anicius Gallus, the praetor of the previous year, and now on the fiveman commission for settling the affairs of Illyricum, divided Genthius’ former kingdom into three parts (Map 1):  the first, southernmost part encompassed the coastline from Pistum, roughly twenty miles northeast of Dyrrachium, to the borders of the Labeatae; the second contained the core Labeate territory of the former kingdom, including the old royal capital at Scodra; and the third stretched along the coastline from Olcinium, including Rhizon, the Agravonitae, and their neighbors, north to the Naro River, forty miles northwest of Epidaurus.13 The citizens of the new Illyrian states were declared free and without garrisons. Immunity from taxation was granted to Issa, Rome’s oldest amicus in the area, the Taulantii, as well as the Dessaretian Pirustae, Rhizon, and Olcinium, the last three having joined Rome while Genthius had yet to be defeated, and the Daorsi, who likewise abandoned Genthius’ half-brother Caravantius. The remainder, including the people of Scodra, the Dessarenes, and the Selepitani, would pay half what they had paid in annual tax to their former king.14 Perseus’ Epirote allies were also punished. Anicius marched into Chaonia, receiving the surrender of Phanote, and then moved into the heartland of pro-Macedonian sentiment, Molossia (Map 1). All the cities here, except for Passaron, Tecmon, Phylace, and Horreum, surrendered without a fight. At Passaron, two anti-Roman politicians, Theodotus and Antinous, tried but failed to induce their fellow-citizens to resist Anicius, and committed suicide by rushing out of the city gate and throwing themselves onto the waiting swords of the Roman soldiers. At Tecmon, Cephalus, the Epirote leader who had abandoned the Roman cause soon after Callicinus, locked the gates, but was killed by the townspeople, who then received the

11 12 13 14

Livy 45.32.3–7, with Briscoe 2012: 716 for the de-Ba’athification parallel. Livy 45.18.7. Livy 45.26.15, with Hammond 1988: 562–3 n. 3; Briscoe 2012: 690–1 on the geography. Livy 45.26.12–14; Diod. Sic. 30.8.2, 3. The Roman garrisons that were withdrawn had been stationed at Rhizon, Scodra, and Olcinium (Livy 45.26.1–2). The Illyrians Paullus sent his son Fabius and Scipio Nasica to plunder later on for helping Perseus in the war (Livy 45.33.8) probably do not include the peoples of the new Illyrian states, but those in the borderlands with Macedonia. See Briscoe 2012: 720.

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Romans. Shortly afterward, Phylace and Horreum chose to surrender as well.15 Paullus, under secret orders from the senate, then sent instructions to the ten leading citizens from each of seventy Molossian towns to gather up all the gold and silver and pile it up in the city center, and then to make their way to his headquarters at Passaron. He then sent centurions to the towns to announce, falsely, that they were there to oversee the liberation of the Epirotes, as had been granted to the Illyrians and Macedonians, and to remove the Roman garrisons. Paullus soon dispatched cohorts to the cities, timing their marches so that they would all arrive at their destinations on the same day. As dawn broke, the centurions collected the gold and silver, but around 9 o’clock, the signal was given for the soldiers to rape and pillage at will. The walls of the cities were torn down, and 150,000 captives were sold into slavery.16 The region of Epirus that nurtured the first eastern potentates to invade Italy, Alexander the Molossian in the late fourth century and Pyrrhus of Epirus in the third, was now a deserted, smoking ruin. Of course, there were greater reasons, having to do with more recent history, that the Epirote Molossians, rather than the Illyrian Ardiaei, for example, were the victims of the single greatest post-war Roman atrocity. They were the only Roman ally – and the earliest in the war – to defect to the Macedonian cause as a result of the Roman defeat at Callicinus. The timing of the defection made the Molossians appear not just traitors, but particularly opportunistic ones, unlike Genthius, who sat on his fence for a long time. Moreover, two Molossians – Theodotus and Philostratus – were responsible for a plot to kidnap Hostilius, the consul of 170. This humiliation was only narrowly avoided through the Roman receipt of some last-minute intelligence. By unleashing his men on the Molossian Epirote towns in 167, Paullus achieved the double goal of rewarding his hard-working soldiery, and of avenging those perceived to have been the most egregious traitors to the Roman cause during the war.17 15 16

17

Livy 45.26.3–10. Livy 45.33.8–34.9; Plut. Aem. 29.1–30.1; App. Ill. 9.3; cf. Polyb. 30.15.1; Strabo 7.7.4 (322C); Plin. NH 4.39 (72 Macedonian cities – a slip); Dio fr. 67; Eutrop. 4.8.1. Molossian defection and kidnap attempt: Polyb. 27.15–16; cf. Diod. Sic. 30.5–5a. Polybius explains that Cephalus of Epirus tried to adhere to the best policy (complying with the Roman alliance and not being subservient to Rome) for as long as possible. But when he heard that the Aetolian generals were sent to detention in Rome after Callicinus on the basis of accusations by their political enemy Lyciscus, he feared that the accusations of anti-Roman behavior made against him by his rival Charops might result in a similar fate for himself, and so was forced to side with Perseus. Such explanations matter less than Roman perception, which probably knew nothing of Cephalus’ deliberations – not that the circumstances under which he betrayed the Roman alliance likely would

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Meanwhile, Aulus Baebius, a Roman garrison commander, had overseen the massacre of 550 leading Aetolians at the instigation of the pro-Roman politicians Lyciscus and Tisippus. Others had been forced into exile, and the property of the dead and exiled was confiscated. Paullus upbraided Baebius for allowing his men to participate in the slaughter of the Aetolian principes, but the killers themselves were let off, while the exiles were confirmed as such, the only criterion used to adjudicate their cases being which side they had supported in the recent war.18 All over Greece, pro-Roman politicians supplied the names of their allegedly pro-Macedonian rivals to Paullus. He rounded up politicians from Aetolia, Acarnania, Epirus, and Boeotia, who would accompany the legions on their return home to stand trial in Rome. It is said that over a thousand Achaean League politicians, Polybius among them, were rounded up, destined to be sent into custody in Italian towns throughout Italy.19 The Acarnanians were stripped of their most important city, Leucas, thus restricting their access to the coast, and hobbling their confederacy. Q. Fabius Labeo, one of the ten commissioners for the settlement of Macedonia, was dispatched to Lesbos to depopulate Antissa and raze the city to the ground  – this in retaliation for the Antissans giving safe harbor to the ships of the king’s admiral Antenor during the war, and providing him with supplies. Paullus ordered the beheading of two prominent politicians – Andronicus the Aetolian and Neon of Thebes, the latter for being the architect of the Boeotian alliance with Macedon.20 Special humiliations were reserved for Rome’s amici Antiochus IV, Rhodes, and Eumenes of Pergamum. Immediately after Pydna, the Seleucid king’s aggression toward Ptolemaic Egypt came to a sudden end. He had come within a mile of the Canopic Gate of Alexandria, at a place called Eleusis, when a Roman embassy, headed by the former consul of 172, C. Popillius Laenas, approached him. Popillius refused to greet him as an amicus populi Romani by shaking his hand, but rather handed him a copy of the senate’s decree ordering him to end his war against Ptolemy. Antiochus said he would consult with his Friends before responding, but

18

19

20

have made much difference in the post-war treatment of the Molossians anyway. See the sole criterion used by the Roman to adjudicate the cases of the Aetolian exiles, below. Livy 45.28.6–8, 31.1–2. Diod. Sic. 31.8.6 adds the detail that Amphilochia was detached from the Aetolian League at this time. Livy 45.31.9–11; cf. Polyb. 31.23.5; Paus. 7.10.5–12 (Achaeans); Just. Epit. 33.2.8 (Aetolians); Polyb. 32.5.6 (Epirotes); Zon. 9.31.1 (Greeks generally). Unlike the Macedonian officialdom, these men were not to make their own way to Rome. See Briscoe 2012: 713–14. Livy 45.31.12–15.

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the Roman drew the proverbial line – or rather, circle – in the sand with the staff he was carrying, ordering the king to respond to the senate’s decree before stepping out of it. The king agreed to do as the senate ordered, even though Popillius had no troops with him, and Antiochus may have already achieved, or had at least come within an ace of achieving, the 130-year-old Seleucid dream of taking control of Egypt. Such was the seismic effect of the Roman victory at Pydna.21 The long saga of Rome’s strained relationship with Rhodes was about to come to an end. To recap: Roman suspicion of the Rhodians first arose early in Perseus’ reign, when they provided a naval escort to Macedonia for the king’s Seleucid bride – an act for which Perseus richly rewarded them, and which prompted the senate, in 177, to issue a letter instructing the Rhodians to treat their Lycian subjects as allies. The Rhodians ignored the order, and later made an offensive speech in the senate against Eumenes, but the Romans were in general pleased with their attitude on the eve of the Third Macedonian War when an eastern embassy confirmed they had prepared forty ships for the Roman war effort.22 When Perseus sought their help, he was politely rebuffed. The Romans refused Rhodian offers of material assistance during the war itself, and in 169 they responded warmly to a Rhodian request to renew amicitia and to be allowed to export Sicilian grain.23 At this same time, Rhodian ambassadors to the consul Marcius Philippus were invited to mediate in the war with Perseus. 24 When Perseus approached the Rhodians for an alliance just before the Pydna campaign, they refused, adhering to their plan to mediate in the war instead. After Pydna, the Rhodians passed a decree condemning to death anyone who had said or done anything in favor of Perseus and against the Romans during the war. Those who did not flee into exile or kill themselves were tried at Rhodes and brought to Rome.25 Meanwhile, the Rhodian mediation embassy was in Rome awaiting an audience with the senate when the news of Rome’s victory over Perseus at Pydna arrived. The ambassadors told the patres that they had initially 21

22

23

24 25

Polyb. 29.27.1–9; Livy 45.12.1–6, 34.14 (for a full list of later sources and discussion, see Gruen 1984: 658–60; sources also listed at Briscoe 2012: 638). Porph. FGH 260 F 49a says Antiochus IV had actually already been crowned king of Egypt at Memphis, but this is in dispute (Mørkholm 1966: 82–3; Walbank 1979: 358; Briscoe 2012: 638; contra Mittag 2006: 171–6). Livy’s report that Rhodian loyalty was reported to be wavering at this time is a fabrication: above, Chapter 4, n. 80. Livy’s report of an angry, threatening Rhodian embassy is likely an annalistic fantasy: above, Chapter 6, n. 117. Not the Sixth Syrian War: above, Chapter 6, n. 118. Livy 45.10.14–15, 22.9, 24.6; Dio fr. 68.1; cf. Polyb. 30.31.14, 20 (retrospective).

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come to offer their services as mediators in the war, but now had the pleasure of offering their congratulations for the Roman victory. The senate’s response was a total shock to the Rhodians: their offer of mediation had been designed to benefit Perseus, not Rome, since it had been made when Perseus was on the defensive, with Roman troops holding the passes into Macedonia, and not when the king had been successful and ravaging Greece earlier in the war.26 When did Rome’s attitude toward Rhodes change for the worse? Relations were outwardly cordial in 172, when the Romans witnessed Rhodian war preparations, and in 169, when the Rhodians renewed their amicitia with Rome and were permitted to export grain from Sicily. That same year, Marcius Philippus encouraged the Rhodians to mediate in Rome’s war with Perseus. According to Polybius, however, this was done so that it might “give the Romans a sensible starting point for deciding about [the Rhodians] whatever seemed good to them.”27 Whether Polybius’ thesis is true is neither here nor there. If the Romans were suspicious of Rhodian disloyalty as far back as 177, then Polybius may indeed be right. But the real significance of his statement is that he believed that statesmen – probably not just Roman statesmen  – made such calculations when dealing with foreign states. As has been seen often in this study (not least in the run-up to the Third Macedonian War itself ), the Romans did not forget slights and offenses, and sometimes chose to avenge them – but only at their convenience. This is a function of “the uncertainty principle,” or “the problem of other minds,” in international relations. Because states are opaque, that is, one state’s knowledge of other states’ intentions is imperfect, intent can only be guessed at from public actions alone, both physical and verbal.28 These crumbs of information are seized upon and filed away until a plausible pattern of intent emerges from the data (whose significance may have been magnified in the interim).29 When perceived intent crosses the threshold from minor worry to credible threat, action is taken – but only if the 26 27

28 29

Livy 45.3.3–8. τοῦτο πράξαντας δοῦναι τοῖς Ῥωμαίοις ἀφορμὰς εὐλόγους εἰς τὸ βουλεύεσθαι περὶ αὐτῶν ὡς ἂν αὐτοῖς φαίνηται (Polyb. 28.17.8). For similar cynical sentiments by Polybius, see Walbank 1972: 166–73 with passages there cited (as at Walbank 1979: 521). For similar senatorial treatment of Demetrius of Syria, see above, p. 105. See Eckstein 2008: 242–4. This is why Marcius Philippus recited his list of Perseus’ delicts at his parley with the king in late 172, and why Popillius Laenas, on his visit to Rhodes just after Pydna, “recited everything that had been said or done with hostility [toward Rome] in the recent war, either by individuals or by the whole state [of Rhodes]” (omnia enim Popillius quae singuli uniuersique eo bello hostiliter dixerant fecerantque rettulit; Livy 45.10.7).

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threatened state has the time, energy, and resources to deal with the danger. Thus Philip V’s hostility and resentment toward Rome simmered away from at least the mid-180s, when he was publicly humiliated by a Roman commission of inquiry and was forced to give up Aenus and Maronea. The Romans, for their part, took note of Philip’s stubborn refusal to give up these places, and his involvement in the massacre of the pro-Pergamene faction in Maronea before finally doing so. Similarly, Perseus’ delicts were noted and filed away throughout the 170s until the threat threshold was crossed, sometime in 174, as has been argued in Chapter 5, by the end of which year Perseus had secured his alliance with the Boeotian confederacy, brought the Dolopes under his control, and then marched his 43,000-man army into the heart of Greece. This dovetailed with a highly fluid situation in the Near East when another, perhaps decisive war between the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kingdoms seemed to be on the horizon. It was no wonder, then, that the Romans were so pleased when the Rhodians were found to be loyal when the Third Macedonian War was imminent, and remained so, at least in terms of their overt actions, while it was ongoing. Relief that the pro-Roman faction was in power – and that Rome would not have to deal with that problem at a very busy time for her – is palpable in Polybius’ version of the embassy of 172 and those of 169.30 So, in 168, freed from both the war with Perseus and the fear that Antiochus IV might conquer Egypt, Rome could now turn to a problem that had been a source of concern for her for almost a decade – the problem of Rhodian loyalty. Had the problem crossed the threat threshold? Of course not, but Pydna had, in its immediate aftermath at least, shifted the goalposts significantly, expanding the criteria for what constituted a threat to Rome.31 The Roman victory had also expanded the moral and political gulf separating them from their friends, constraining the ability of the latter to comport themselves as status equals of the conquerors of Macedon. Rome had succeeded against Perseus after great difficulties, yielded to the “hegemon’s temptation,” and regarded an assertive, brutal response to minor transgressions and suspect behavior as fully proportionate in these circumstances. That the Rhodians did not see things this way was, of course, their prerogative as Roman amici. They could interpret

30

31

Polybius’ thesis – and that is all it is – that the senators in 169 “pretended” to be ignorant of the anti-Roman sentiments of some Rhodian politicians, and of the rumors of Rhodian double-dealing (28.2.3–5) does not affect the interpretation offered here. Indeed, overlooking a minor problem when preoccupied by a greater crisis is pattern behavior by states, as has been argued here. On what follows, see now Burton 2011: 283–9 (with references).

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their standing relative to Rome’s however they wished. That this conflicted with the senate majority’s view was unfortunate, but not at all unpredictable, given the dynamics and phenomenology of friendship. Because the Rhodians could not see for themselves that the relationship had changed, with their own status having decreased in direct proportion to the increase in the Romans’ by virtue of the Pydna victory, the Romans would have to provide a tangible demonstration of that fact. Seen in this light, Rome’s declaration of war on Rhodes, and the senate’s later diversion of their revenues from the slave trade by declaring Delos a free port under Athenian control, and liberation of their subjects in Lycia and Caria, do not seem at all surprising. Not all senators felt this way, of course. It was largely thanks to Cato’s censure of the hawkish senators for trying to punish alleged Rhodian intentions rather than actions that they were spared a Roman war.32 Finally, Eumenes II of Pergamum also experienced the wrath of the senators.33 Recall that, during the war, a rumor circulated that Perseus had tried to make a deal with the Pergamene king, offering him 500 talents to remain neutral, and 1,500 talents to broker a peace. The deal broke down amid mutual deceit and avarice. The damage, however, was done, and rumors of the deal soon reached Rome. Polybius claims that he himself could scarcely believe the rumors were true at the time, but they were confirmed for him by Perseus’ Macedonian Friends in exile in Italy after the war. That, plus the fact that it would explain Rome’s shoddy post-war treatment of Eumenes, sufficed for Polybius to believe the negotiations actually occurred. Scholars are divided on whether Polybius was deliberately deceived by the Macedonians  – and whether his own ex post facto rationale meets the criteria for good historiographical practice. But this is all beside the point. What matters here is Roman perception: from the 32

33

Dmitriev 2011: 290–312 for the most part concurs with this analysis, but further argues that the Rhodians deployed the slogan of Greek freedom in defense of their policy of ending the war, and thus tried to usurp Rome’s position as the guarantor of Greek freedom, which was the immediate source of Roman hostility. But at no point between 172 and 168 did the Rhodians claim they were defending Greek freedom through their policy; it was only Perseus’ envoys who claimed this on their behalf in late 172 to try to persuade them to mediate. The Rhodians themselves only ever claimed to offer mediation for primarily self-interested financial reasons (and, secondarily, for the financial health of other Greeks, and of the Romans) (cf. Polyb. 29.19.3; Livy 44.14.10; 45.3.5; Diod. Sic. 30.24.1). Pace Dmitriev, Cato argued that the Rhodians were concerned only with their own freedom (libertatis suae causa: ORF3 Cato fr. 164 (= Gell. NA 6.3.16)), and indeed, they persistently complained that the other Greeks were falsely accusing them of disloyalty (Polyb. 28.2.2, 16.7; 30.4.12–14; Livy 45.20.9). They were unlikely to concern themselves with the freedom of their calumniators. On what follows, see now Burton 2011: 292–9 (with references).

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patres’ point of view, that the man who was the catalyst for the war against Perseus, and for whom the Romans undertook this dangerous and, in the end, difficult and expensive task, should have attempted to betray their cause – and for filthy lucre, at that – was a moral outrage worthy of censure and punishment. Eumenes thus put the senators in a very awkward position when he arrived in Italy in winter 167/6 to offer his personal congratulations. If the patres now reproached him publicly, they would be exposed as poor judges of character, since they had been touting the king as being among their greatest friends. On the other hand, if they held their noses and treated him kindly, they would appear to be overlooking his shameful behavior, and thus would damage their own reputation, and indicate to their other amici that they could act as Eumenes had with impunity. The patres hit upon a brilliant solution, passing a decree banning all kings from Italy, and dispatched a lowly quaestor to Brundisium to show the senatus consultum to the king, and to order him to quit Italy as soon as possible if he had no requests to make of the senate.34 At the time, Eumenes was fighting the Galatians – a side-effect of the outcome of the war with Perseus, according to Polybius.35 Once the senate’s snub of Eumenes became public knowledge, again according to Polybius, the Galatians would fight him with greater determination.36 Although the king eventually succeeded in gaining the upper hand against them, the Galatians were declared free by the Romans precisely at the moment of Eumenes’ victory over them. Punishment thus followed humiliation. Of a piece with this is the fact that the Romans also began cultivating Eumenes’ brother Attalus at the king’s expense, treating him with great kindness, thus highlighting, by contrast, the dim view they took of Eumenes. On the other hand, the senate refused to grant Attalus’ request, on behalf of his brother, that Aenus and Maronea be restored to Pergamene control.37 Eumenes, moreover, continued to fight the Galatians, with no response forthcoming from their Roman amici, and proceeded from strength to strength for the remainder of his reign, recovering his high reputation among the Greeks.38 After some initial humiliation and punishment of Eumenes, Roman anger, and interest, eventually ebbed away – to the benefit of the Pergamene king. 34 35

36 37

38

Polyb. 30.19. Polyb. 29.22.4. The revolt may have been occasioned by the heavy losses the Galatians had sustained in fighting on the side of Pergamum and Rome during the war (cf. Livy 42.57.9; 44.28.7–14). Polyb. 30.19.12. Polyb. 30.1.7–3.7; cf. Livy 45.19–20.2 (who, however, does not say that the two cities were denied him). Polyb. 32.8.

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The Withdrawal Indeed, the point can be made more generally. After a brief post-Pydna orgy of interventionism and brutal assertiveness, the Romans withdrew their attention from eastern affairs. This was, of course, pattern behavior: they withdrew their forces, and interest, from the eastern Adriatic after the First and Second Illyrian Wars; they were very reluctantly (and halfheartedly) drawn back to the East after the Carthaginian–Macedonian alliance was struck in 215, but thereafter ignored the region until recalled by their eastern amici in 201–200; and they withdrew their attention, and troops, in 194 after the Second Macedonian War, and again in 188 after the Syrian and Aetolian Wars. Coincidentally enough, almost precisely the same amount of time – seventeen years or so – would pass between 167 and the next Roman deployment to the East, in 150, as had passed between the evacuation of 188 and the first deployments against Perseus in late 172. Not that the post-167 period would be a rerun of the post-188 period – and for one crucial geopolitical reason:  the absence of a viable regional hegemonic power in the East, particularly in the Balkan area. The sudden disappearance of the Macedonian kingdom, structurally predisposed toward imperial expansion, along with its ruling house, its ideology of conquest, its enormous resources, and its 43,000-strong army significantly altered the power configuration in the eastern Mediterranean. This opened up for the remaining first- and second-tier powers in the region potential new opportunities for asserting their interests, which Rome would have to attempt to check with greater rigor than in the post-Apamea period if stability in the East were to be maintained, and Roman arrangements there protected. Perhaps not surprisingly, this was most difficult to achieve in places farthest away from Italy  – Asia Minor and Syria. As has been seen, despite Rome’s attempt to free the Galatians from Attalid aggression, the rulers of Pergamum continued to wreak havoc against them, as well as the kingdom of Bithynia. The Attalids also instigated regime change in Syria and Cappadocia, thus upsetting, with impunity, arrangements formally mandated by Rome.39 The Seleucid Demetrius I Soter fled captivity in Rome, returned to his ancestral kingdom, and deposed and killed Rome’s favored candidate on the throne, Antiochus V.  According to Polybius, the senators “could not do anything about it even if they wanted to.”40 Demetrius then went on to replace Rome’s amicus Ariarathes 39 40

See now Burton 2011: 221–2 for sources and discussion. ἅμα δὲ προορώμενοι τὸ βουληθέντες κωλύειν ἀδυνατῆσαι (Polyb. 31.15.8).

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V with Orophernes on the Cappadocian throne.41 In all this Rome was not completely passive or idle. After Demetrius’ coup, in 162, a senatorial commission under the leadership of Cn. Octavius discovered Seleucid violations to the treaty of Apamea, and so torched Seleucid ships and hamstrung the regime’s elephants of war.42 Rome also attempted to undermine Pergamene power, not least by encouraging Eumenes II’s brother Attalus to depose the king, and favored sycophants like Prusias II of Bithynia.43 True, such measures lacked effect even in the short term.44 But that such measures were taken at all bears notice – as does the fact that the microimperialisms playing out on the periphery of Rome’s imperium at no point directly affected Roman security arrangements in the East. The increasingly hermetic kingdom of the Ptolemies, the shrinking Seleucid empire, and the monarchies of Asia Minor, perpetually wearing themselves out in war against each other, suited the Romans just fine. Much closer to Rome, politics in Greece resumed their normal course. The Achaeans continued to lord it over their defeated rivals the Aetolians,45 and the most hated and reluctant member of their own League, Sparta. Elsewhere, the pro-Roman politicians who had been responsible for slaughtering and exiling their political rivals from even before the Third Macedonian War broke out continued to victimize their opponents. Lyciscus the Aetolian harried his political enemies until his death, ca. 158, as did Mnasippus of Coronea in Boeotia, and Chremas in Acarnania.46 Charops of Epirus, either on his own or through proxies, executed some of his enemies in the agora and in their homes, before turning to proscription and property confiscation.47 Such people continued to be in very bad odor among their own people. So despised were the Achaean Callicrates and the League politicians in his faction, for example, that (according to Polybius, anyway) everyone avoided bathing in the same tub with them at the public baths, and insisted that the bath attendants drain the tubs and put in fresh water after they left. They were catcalled and booed whenever they were proclaimed victors at public festivals. Even street urchins would yell “traitor!” after them whenever they passed by.48 Polybius says that when the 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

See now Burton 2011: 219–22 for sources and discussion. Polyb. 31.2.9–14; App. Syr. 46; Zon. 9.25. Polyb. 30.1.4–10 (Attalus), 19.1–6 (Prusias). Gruen 1984: 579–92. Paus. 7.11.3. Polyb. 32.4.1–5.2. Polyb. 32.5.4–6.9; Diod. Sic. 31.31. Polyb. 30.29.2–7. Some (but probably not much) skepticism is in order here because of Polybius’ deep personal hatred for Callicrates, who was instrumental in ending his career and having him deported to Italy.

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Romans discountenanced the activities of Charops, and promised to send a commission of inquiry to investigate his crimes, the Greek community in Rome was overjoyed.49 But this sort of non-violent protest was really the only option left for the critics of Rome and their supporters throughout Greece; their spirits were crushed, their mood nearing despair, says Polybius.50 No wonder, then, in a pattern reminiscent of Perseus’ increasing popularity during the pre-war 170s, the Greeks increasingly turned to anyone exuding even the faintest whiff of Roman disfavor. So Eumenes, Polybius alleges, grew more popular among the Greeks in direct proportion to how badly the Romans treated him.51 However that may be (and the point is in any case moot after Eumenes’ death in 159), Roman suppression of pro-Macedonian factions in places like Boeotia before the Third Macedonian War began, followed by the purges and mass exile of Greek politicians perceived to be unreliable when it was over, seems to have done its work. Fear of Rome’s agents and sycophants compelled self-censorship in the councils, assemblies, and marketplaces. Robust and unfettered political debate in mainland Greece seems to have come to an end. By contrast, factional strife of an uncertain nature seems to have occurred in the new Macedonian states. Unfortunately, the failure of the full text of Livy’s history after 167 makes it very difficult to document the history of the merides between 167 and the late 150s. Nevertheless, a stray notice among the fragments of Polybius happens to reveal that stasis gripped the Macedonian governments within only four years of their foundation.52 We also hear that a Macedonian called Damasippus massacred members of the plenary Council at Pella in 162.53 In 154 the Macedonians invited Scipio Aemilianus (who apparently inherited his biological father Paullus’ patronage of the Macedonian people) to come and settle their staseis, but he chose to fight in Spain instead.54 What impact the reopening of the gold and silver mines four years earlier, in 158, had on this civil strife is unknown.55 Whether stasis plagued the merides throughout this period, and the fragmentary notices, therefore, are the only visible indicators of 49

50 51 52 53 54 55

Polyb. 32.6.6. The commission was probably sent, but the results are unknown (Walbank 1979: 525). Another was sent two years later, in winter 157/6, at the request of the exiles (Polyb. 32.14). Polyb. 30.32.11. Polyb. 31.6.6. Polyb. 31.2.12 (quoted below, n. 57). Polyb. 31.17.2. Polyb. 35.4.11. Cassiod. Chron. 596. If the Macedonian elite, rather than Roman publicani, held these concessions (so Gruen 1982: 263–4 and 1984: 427 n. 161), this may have increased the wealth of a few, and intensified competition among the Macedonian leadership and stasis in their communities.

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a persistent problem, cannot of course be known for sure. But Polybius’ statement that the Macedonians were freed by the Romans from serious civil strife and partisan massacres should counsel caution.56 As the historian indicates elsewhere, what was going on in the merides was what would be expected from new democracies: robust political debate that, due to the inexperience of the participants, periodically spun out of control into fullblown stasis.57 Whatever the case, factional strife had very little to do with the next serious security crisis in mainland Greece, when it appeared like a bolt from the blue in the late 150s.

“The Fourth Macedonian War” Andriscus was a poor citizen of Adramyttium in the Troad in Asia Minor.58 Styling himself Philip, son of Perseus, he publicized an elaborate back-story, involving buried treasure, secret instructions from a dead relative, foster parents, and a deathbed revelation of his true identity, to explain his origins.59 He entered Macedonia in force in 153, but was driven out by local troops, presumably a concentration of the garrison forces the Romans permitted to be raised in the first, second, and fourth merides to prevent incursions on Macedonia’s northern and western frontiers. In 151, Andriscus sought help from Demetrius, the Seleucid king who had fled Rome some years before and usurped the throne. The choice was only natural; after all, Andriscus was posing as Philip, son of Perseus and Laodice, who was the daughter of Seleucus IV, and therefore sister to Demetrius, making the latter Andriscus’ “uncle.” Demetrius, having no interest in securing the recovery of the false Philip’s inheritance, had him arrested and sent to Rome under guard. The patres, good aristocrats as they were, felt nothing but contempt for him as a commoner of no distinction, and released him. Andriscus then went to Miletus, where he was imprisoned, but upon the advice of some (probably Roman) ambassadors there, was again released. He escaped to Pergamum, and made contact with Callippa, a former concubine of Perseus, who fitted 56 57

58

59

Polyb. 36.17.13, quoted above, Chapter 1, n. 21. συνέβαινε γὰρ τοὺς Μακεδόνας ἀήθεις ὄντας δημοκρατικῆς καὶ συνεδριακῆς πολιτείας στασιάζειν πρὸς αὑτούς (“for it happened that the Macedonians, being unused to democratic and republican government, engaged in civil strife”; Polyb. 31.2.12). Hatzopoulos 1996: 222–3, 365 n. 6, 494 is skeptical of Polybius’ reasoning here. What follows is based on Polyb. 36.10, 17; Diod. Sic. 32.9a–b, 15; Livy Per. 49–50; Vell. Pat. 1.11.1–2; Flor. 1.30; Porph. FGH 260 F 3.19–20; Eutrop. 4.13; Oros. 4.22.9; Ampel. 16.5; Zon. 9.28.1–8. The real Philip, son of Perseus, had died in custody in 163:  Polyb. 36.10.3. Waterfield 2014:  219 believes Andriscus was an illegitimate son of Perseus, based on his apparently striking resemblance to the dead king.

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him out in royal attire and a diadem, and gave him money and slaves. He then entered Thrace, where various Thracian chiefs, including Teres, who was married to a granddaughter of Perseus, gave him troops. With these he re-entered Macedonia in 150, but was repulsed and driven back to Thrace. On his third attempt, Andriscus was successful: he fought and won two battles against the Macedonians, one on either side of the Strymon River. Arriving at Pella, Andriscus declared himself king, and took the dynastic name Philip (VI). He then went on to conquer most of Thessaly.60 With their state arrangements annulled by the forcible restoration of the Macedonian monarchy, the senators finally decided to act, and sent Scipio Nasica (probably the same man who executed the flanking movement around Olympus before the Battle of Pydna in 168)  to see what was going on, and to try to settle matters peacefully. When Nasica discovered just how far things had progressed, he wrote back to Rome, and in the meantime advanced through Thessaly as far as Macedonia with Achaean League troops. A Roman army led by the praetor P.  Iuventius Thalna was sent against Andriscus in 149, but was soundly defeated, and its commander killed. The remnants of the legions had to withdraw under cover of darkness. Andriscus went on to recover Thessaly and launched a diplomatic offensive in Thrace, probably during the winter of 149/8, and began the slaughter of his Macedonian (mostly upper-class) opponents. In summer, 148, another Roman army, under the command of the praetor Q. Caecilius Metellus, arrived in the East. At some point, Andriscus’ general Telestes defected with the Macedonian cavalry, but, in an eerie replay of the events of the war with Perseus, we also hear that a (different?) troop of Macedonian horsemen won an initial cavalry skirmish against the Romans, as had occurred at Callicinus in 171. Andriscus then divided his army in two and sent one half to ravage Thessaly while he remained with the other half, near Pydna, to confront Caecilius. Caecilius defeated Andriscus in the second Battle of Pydna, and won over the rest of his army. Andriscus fled to Thrace, but was handed over to Caecilius by Byzes, a Thracian prince. Yet before the Roman commander could return to Rome and a well-earned triumph, he had to chase down yet another pretender who had occupied some territory around the Nessus River, and began styling himself King Alexander (V), son of Perseus.61 The pretender fled as far 60 61

He also minted coinage. See de Callataÿ 2011: 58–9 with pl. 8 no. 1 (with Roman overstrikes). The real Alexander, son of Perseus, became an expert in fine metal work and embossing, learned Latin, and became a secretary for the local magistrates of Alba Fucens: Plut. Aem. 37.4. The date of his death is unknown.

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as Dardania, and then vanished, never to be heard from again. Caecilius then returned to Rome, “King Philip” was paraded in a cage in his triumph, and the praetor adopted the honorific “Macedonicus.” The merides continued to exist, but Macedonia was made tributary, Roman armies were from this point a permanent presence in the region, and a Roman provincial administration gradually coalesced.62 Macedonian independence was at an end. How had this happened so suddenly, and at the instigation of such an unlikely individual, part con artist, part huckster? For his part, Polybius was entirely flummoxed as to how the “false Philip who fell from the skies” could possibly have been so successful so quickly.63 He put the whole sorry episode down to the mysterious workings of Fortuna, or the wrath of the gods. He could not figure out why the Macedonians fought so valiantly for Andriscus, who exiled, tortured, and killed so many of them, against the Romans, who had rescued them from servitude and granted them their freedom, among other benefits.64 “Nationalism,” or its nearest ancient Greek equivalent (φιλοπατρία), apparently did not occur to him, nor did a nostalgic yearning on the part of the Macedonians for their kings. Polybius was probably right to avoid such explanations. Modern scholars, on the other hand, have been considerably less cautious. The conventional explanation may be summarized as follows:  the new Roman dispensation had failed to inspire a sense of independence and merisloyalty in the Macedonians, who longed for the glory days of the monarchy; this nostalgia, combined with a short-sighted, and ultimately self-defeating weakening by the Romans of the Macedonians’ ability to defend themselves, caused the merides to be “swept away … with ease” as soon as Andriscus appeared.65 Such reconstructions are highly problematic for several reasons – not least of which is that there is not a shred of evidence to support them, and much circumstantial evidence to the contrary. First of all, as Hatzopoulos has shown, these local foci of loyalty were not innovations of the Romans, but had in fact been going concerns for perhaps as long as two centuries, after they had been established by Philip II. This is probably why, as was noted above, the troops of the Macedonian meris governments expelled Andriscus from their lands – twice – in 153, 62

63 64 65

There was no sudden declaration of a province, no lex prouinciae: Gruen 1984: 433–6; Kallet-Marx 1995: 11–41. ἀεροπετής Φίλιππος (Polyb. 36.10.2). Polyb. 36.17.12–15; cf. 36.10.5–6. Eckstein 2010: 246–7; cf. Gruen 1984: 433; Derow 1989: 318 (a “fragile conception”); Eckstein 2013: 94. Others listed at Kallet-Marx 1995: 33 n. 94, to which add now Waterfield 2014: 219–20.

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and again in 150.66 The Macedonians also chose to fight two pitched battles against the pretender rather than voluntarily cede their states to his control. This would suggest that a Macedonian longing for monarchy, to say nothing of the Antigonids, is an illusion, as is the notion that the merides were bland, uninspiring, artificial creations imposed on an unwilling and resentful populace. They fought hard to preserve the independence of their states against the restoration of the monarchy. Is there perhaps a class-based explanation for the low-born pretender’s ultimate success in crowning himself King Philip?67 The civil disputes in the Macedonian merides may have had a class warfare aspect to them, but, as with the civil disputes in the Greek states leading up to the war with Perseus, it was more a case of aristocrats struggling against each other for political influence and debt relief. The common people, if they played a role at all, were merely swept along in these disputes. This should be kept in mind as well: Andriscus, despite being a commoner himself, evidently did not promote himself as a “red king” – no more than Perseus had68 – when he was trying to penetrate Macedonia. It was only after his victories in battle over the local troops that he posed as a populist. And for good reason: he needed money to defend himself against the inevitable Roman reprisals, and proscription, with its attendant confiscation of property, seemed as good a solution as any. If enthusiasm there was among the people for the pretender, it was only the enforced sort that follows from military success.69 It is thus no surprise that Andriscus’ army abandoned him for the Romans when the tide turned against him at Pydna. What about the Macedonians’ attitude toward Rome? Not wanting monarchy back and enjoying their traditional local self-government are not necessarily the same as having great affection for the Romans. If Walbank is right in his reading of a highly corrupt passage in Polybius, the Greek historian probably wrote something to the effect that “after Pydna the Macedonians had abandoned their former ill will towards the Romans.”70 Another passage may clinch it: it was commonly agreed by all, ὁμολογουμένως – including, presumably, the Macedonians themselves – that the Romans had benefitted the Macedonians immensely by freeing 66

67 68 69 70

Kallet-Marx 1995: 34–6 argues that the Thracian associates of Andriscus alienated the Macedonians. This is possible, but Kallet-Marx (31) is too quick to allege the “instability” of the merides. Per Bernhardt 1985: 14–15. See above, Chapter 5, p. 118. “Victory changes minds, of course” (Kallet-Marx 1995: 35). Walbank 1979: 682.

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them from servitude to their kings.71 If true, this makes perfect sense of the picture of the Macedonians resisting Andriscus to the utmost. Why else, moreover, would the Macedonians have called upon their Roman patron, Scipio Aemilianus, in 154, when civil strife broke out, instead of, say, the Achaean League, as was their prerogative as free citizens of free states? The reopening of the mines in 158 should also be mentioned in this context. If these concessions belonged to the Macedonians themselves, then this is a good indication that much goodwill and trust had been built up between Rome and the Macedonians over nine years of relative stability.72 Finally, did the Romans purposely leave the merides virtually defenseless, to be swept away by the first serious effort to invade Macedonia? Surely not. Aside from the persistent and stout resistance of the local levies to Andriscus already mentioned, note that when debating what to do about Macedonia before the settlement of 167, the Elder Cato confessed that the country should be free since Rome could not defend it.73 Cato did not say that the Macedonians could not defend themselves  – and indeed may have implied that they could do a better job of it than the Romans. This may be supplemented by an additional argument, admittedly one from silence, but nonetheless suggestive for all that. We only hear of civil strife in the merides after Pydna, and never about military disasters suffered by the Macedonians at the hands of frontier tribes. Nor, apparently, were Roman troops ever called upon to supplement the local levies, despite relentless pressure by the external tribes.74 That the Romans would leave their Macedonian arrangements, to say nothing of the rest of Greece, virtually undefended against the perennial threat of invasion on the Macedonian frontiers is hardly believable.75 The last thing the Romans wanted to do (as Cato’s comment indicates) was to allow a power vacuum to suck them back into the East to undertake routine (and unprofitable) frontier defense duties against impoverished tribal peoples. The Romans no doubt authorized the governments of the first, second, and fourth 71

72

73 74 75

Polyb. 36.17.13. Walbank’s (1979: 681) skepticism (“P. fails to envisage a Macedonian view which could be quite different”) is out of place, based as it is on the demonstrably flawed conventional scholarly view of the Macedonian attitude toward Rome and the merides before Andriscus appeared. Briscoe 2012: 660. See above, n. 55, for the mines likely being run by the Macedonians rather than Roman publicani. Macedonas liberos pronuntiauit, quia teneri non poterant (ORF3 Cato fr. 162 (= SHA Hadr. 5.3)). Documented in Kallet-Marx 1995: 38–40. As e.g. Kallet-Marx 1995: 40: “Clearly, some more effective force than the local levies, which had failed to stave off Andriscus and his Thracian friends, was needed in order to protect Macedonia from the incursions that, as he and further pretenders showed, were a dangerous source of internal instability and could even cause trouble for Greece.”

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merides to raise troops in sufficient numbers to ensure a robust frontier defense, while at the same time avoiding dangerous concentrations of military power. They were used to such balancing acts in their own polity, where military force was traditionally split between at least two (and often more) imperium-wielding magistrates as a hedge against tyranny. And as was the case with the Roman military, there was nothing preventing the individual meris armies taking coordinated action in the face of significant threats, such as a Dardanian invasion or Andriscus’ incursions. The merides were stripped of ius commercium and ius connubium, but nothing apparently forbade the unification of their armies to deal with hostile incursions when and where they occurred. The traditional scholarly view of the rapid sweeping away of Rome’s Macedonian arrangements after Pydna is untenable. It is, in part, an unfortunate by-product of the false impression created by the exiguous remaining evidence for the war with Andriscus, and a misinterpretation of Polybius’ comments on it. What surprised him was not so much the eagerness with which the Macedonians threw off the Roman yoke, or the ease with which the governments of the merides were swept away, but how Andriscus, a most unlikely (that is, common, undistinguished, royal in physiognomy only) character, could have succeeded in conquering Macedonia so quickly. What started off as an amusing rumor about some crackpot commoner with a hare-brained scheme to pass himself off as Philip, son of Perseus – when everyone knew that Philip was already long dead – had evolved, within a few years, into something far more dangerous: all of Macedonia was in his hands, and he was now going after Thessaly. This is what Polybius meant by “the false Philip who fell from the skies.”76 Pretenders would occasionally reemerge in the period following. One such, styling himself King Philip (VII), made a bid for power in Macedonia in 143 or 142, but was easily defeated by a quaestor, Tremellius Scrofa.77 A  bizarre story in Diodorus indicates that, as late as 90, there were still some ambitious adventurers willing to have a tilt at reviving the Macedonian monarchy.78 Pretenders came and went, in other words, but the merides, with Roman security arrangements in place, endured. 76

77 78

Polyb. 36.10. At Polyb. 36.17.12–14, he does not fault the Macedonians for going over to Andriscus so quickly, but for valiantly defending him after he exiled, tortured, and killed so many of them in such a short space of time, i.e. after he had defeated them in battle. Polybius is being a bit unfair here: as if they had a choice but to fight for Andriscus after he conquered them! The alternative was to suffer exile, torture, or death. Livy Per. 53; Obseq. 22; Eutrop. 4.15; Varro, RR. 2.4.1–2. Diod. Sic. 37.5a.

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Conclusion The Pydna victory marks a watershed in ancient geopolitics. The de facto balance of power between the three major Hellenistic kingdoms that had dominated the eastern Mediterranean for over 150 years had been shattered in an instant. The infamous meeting of C. Popillius Laenas and Antiochus IV at Eleusis is the starkest illustration of this:  that a mere ambassador, unaccompanied by troops, could order arguably the most successful of Alexander’s epigonoi to stand down at the moment he was poised to become ruler over all the East, including Egypt, is striking testimony to Pydna’s world-changing significance. The war’s denouement was shaped by this new reality. Not only would Rome’s enemies, real or perceived, be punished (some, like the Molossian Epirotes, on a genocidal scale), but friends, such as Eumenes and Rhodes, who had been perceived to have betrayed the Roman cause, would feel Rome’s wrath as well. Rome’s friends had to be taught that the status gap separating them from the conquerors of Macedon had just been widened, and practical demonstrations to that effect would be necessary. The purges of pro-Macedonian politicians all over the Greek world before, during, and after the war would serve to limit dissent and debate in the post-war period. Roman authority and power would certainly not go unchallenged, especially in faraway Asia Minor and Syria, but it also bears notice that when the first serious threat to Roman security arrangements in the East materialized after Pydna, in the person of Andriscus, it was completely unpredictable and lacking the support of all but the Thracians.

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Conclusion

At some point after the mid-140s, Polybius decided to revise the original plan of his Histories. He added a further ten books to the original thirty, in part to allow his readers to pass judgment on Roman foreign policy, and to decide whether Roman rule over the conquered peoples in the post-Pydna period deserved praise or blame.1 He was inspired to do this because of a time of “trouble and disturbance”2 that followed the Third Macedonian War, including the wars and coups in Asia Minor and Syria, and the Roman wars against Andriscus and Achaea in the East, Carthage in North Africa, and the Celtiberi and Vaccaei in the West.3 Polybius did not, nevertheless, revise his original thesis that the result of Pydna had established Roman supremacy in the Mediterranean: he stood firm that, as a result of the defeat of Antigonid Macedon, “the advance of Roman power had reached completion,” and “henceforth, all would have to heed the Romans and obey their orders.”4 Polybius was right not to correct himself. As was seen in the previous chapter, despite superficial appearances to the contrary, something world-changing had taken place in the Mediterranean basin as a result of the Third Macedonian War. True, Rome had acquired no new territory; the Macedonians and Illyrians had been granted their freedom, as the Greek poleis and Leagues had in the past; Rome’s loyal friends were praised and rewarded, and her enemies chastised and punished; and Roman forces were withdrawn west of the Adriatic within a year or two of the war’s end. 1

2 3 4

Polyb. 3.4.1–5.6 (revised plan); discussion: Walbank 1972: 173–83 and 1977b: 145–50, 159–62; Eckstein 1995: 10–11. ταραχὴ καὶ κίνησις (Polyb. 3.4.12). Polyb. 3.5.1–6. προκοπὴ τῆς Ῥωμαίων δυναστείας ἐτετελείωτο· πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ὁμολογούμενον ἐδόκει τοῦτ᾽ εἶναι καὶ κατηναγκασμένον ἅπασιν ὅτι λοιπόν ἐστι Ῥωμαίων ἀκούειν καὶ τούτοις πειθαρχεῖν ὑπὲρ τῶν παραγγελλομένων (Polyb. 3.4.2–3).

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On the other hand, not just Roman enemies, but (perceived) disloyal friends were punished as well. Most of Rome’s Greek opponents and critics were either in exile or dead, rounded up or liquidated by the Romans themselves or by their regional political rivals. Great swathes of valuable agricultural land in Greece, especially in Thessaly, Epirus, and Boeotia, had been devastated and would probably be unproductive for the short to medium term, with predictable consequences for the health and wellbeing of the inhabitants and the local economy. And perhaps most importantly, Rome’s closest system competitor, in terms of both geography and power, had been eliminated. Rome no longer had any challengers to its nearly global rule, as Polybius recognized.5 The final war Rome fought in mainland Greece clearly demonstrates how things had changed.6 The year 150 was a watershed year for the Achaean League. The Achaean exiles deported at the end of the Third Macedonian War were finally returned, and Scipio Nasica called upon League forces to protect Greece against the pretender Andriscus since the Romans themselves had no troops there at the moment. These moves signaled to two League politicians, Diaeus and Critolaus, that Achaean status equivalence with Rome had been restored; the restoration of the exiles removed the final symbol of Achaean subordination to Rome, and the Achaean provision of troops to Scipio indicated a Roman status deficit relative to Achaea. Diaeus and Critolaus were thus emboldened to begin harassing Sparta again, even though they knew this would be met with Roman disapproval. The Roman struggle against Andriscus followed, Roman military defeats further emboldening the Achaean leaders. The Romans tried for a number of years to resolve the Sparta problem diplomatically, but to no avail. They could not understand, any more than Polybius could, why the Achaeans persisted in their futile intransigence: “the whole land must have fallen under an evil spell.”7 In the end, the Achaeans were of course no match for the Roman legions, Corinth was destroyed, and the League was dismembered. Far from being a resurgent threat to Roman power in mainland Greece, the Achaean War was the project of two delusionally overconfident politicians in the last remaining viable middling power in the region. Unlike resurgent Carthage, the Achaean League never stood a chance in a contest 5

6 7

Ῥωμαῖοί γε μὴν οὐ τινὰ μέρη, σχεδὸν δὲ πᾶσαν πεποιημένοι τὴν οἰκουμένην ὑπήκοον αὑτοῖς (“The Romans have made subject to themselves not some portion, but almost the entire world”; Polyb. 1.2.7; cf. 1.1.5). On what follows, see now Burton 2011: 345–51. πάντα δ᾽ ἦν πλήρη παρηλλαγμένης φαρμακείας (Polyb. 38.16.7).

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with Rome. The Romans knew this, and pleaded with the Achaeans to curb their arrogance and hostility since they had no desire to go to war against a loyal ally which could only lose in such a contest.8 Diaeus and Critolaus were on their own from the beginning; there were no potential allies available, nor did they seek any. The Roman purges in Greece, and now the Roman military presence in Macedonia, had ensured that the Achaean League stood alone. The contrast with, for example, the Aetolian League and its alliance with Antiochus III against Rome in the late 190s, and the constellation of Greek states that flocked to the Seleucid’s banner after he crossed to Greece in winter 192/1, could not be starker. There was, quite simply, no other viable first-tier power in the eastern Mediterranean that disgruntled states could use as leverage against Roman hegemony. There had not been since 167. This is what Polybius means when he says Roman power was complete by this date. If, as appears to be the case, Polybius is justified in claiming that the Third Macedonian War secured Rome almost global power, does this also mean he is correct that the conquest of Macedon was but a stage in Rome’s “plan of universal aggression”?9 For Polybius, the result of the Hannibalic War, the most important, decisive step in their plan for world conquest, was that the Romans reached out for the rest, starting with the legions that crossed to Greece to fight Philip V in the Second Macedonian War.10 But as has been seen in this study, Roman motivations in the wars against Philip, and especially in the war against his son, defy such simplistic analysis. One wonders whether Rome would have made war on Philip in 200 if the latter had not struck a treaty with Hannibal in 215 to destroy Rome. The Second Macedonian War was declared, in part, for the sake of protecting the friends and allies the Romans had made during the first war against Philip. The settlement of 196, unless desperate arguments about the Romans deliberately leaving traps for Philip and his successor to blunder into are resorted to,11 seems antithetical to the idea that the Romans sought to take out Macedon as the next stage on a fully planned journey toward world domination. Over two decades of Roman–Macedonian cooperation, accommodation, and coexistence followed before a very complex 8 9

10

11

Polyb. 38.9.8. ἔννοιαν σχεῖν τῆς τῶν ὅλων ἐπιβολῆς (Polyb. 3.2.6; cf. 1.3.6, 10, etc.). The meaning of “the assault on the whole [world]” (τῆς τῶν ὅλων ἐπιβολῆς), translated here as “universal aggression,” clearly refers to the acquisition of a world (or large) empire. Polyb. 1.3.6. Cf. Polyb. 3.32.7, where Polybius regards the war with Philip resulting from that with Hannibal. Elsewhere (15.20.8), he regards Tyche as responsible for raising the Romans up against Philip in punishment for his pact with Antiochus to destroy Ptolemy. As e.g. Dmitriev 2011: 201–9 does in his analysis of Nabis of Sparta.

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and frightening geopolitical situation – one which Perseus apparently had no qualms about contributing to – stirred the Romans to action against Macedon again. For various reasons  – the difficulty and danger of the war for Rome, the demonstrated vulnerability of Roman arrangements in Greece to the Macedonian kings’ pathological addiction to warfare and expansion, Roman pride and desire for revenge – at war’s end, the kingdom of Macedon would no longer be allowed to exist. This was not in view in 215, much less in 200 or 196, and probably not even in 171. It was a product of more recent experience. The Third Macedonian War was the final trial of Macedonian arms against those of another first-tier Mediterranean power. Perseus failed, but his failure was not inevitable. Historiographical convention and the perspective of most of our surviving sources have limited its significance to what it reveals about Roman imperial ambitions. As I  hope to have shown in this study, this is only half the story. The Third Macedonian War, especially its context and causes, reveals as much, if not more, about late Antigonid Macedonian power and imperial aspirations as it does about the nature and evolution of Roman imperialism.

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Appendi x  A

The Embassy of Cn. Servilius Caepio, Ap. Claudius Centho, and T. Annius Luscus to Macedon (Livy 42.25) Between the report of the dispatch of the Roman embassy to Asia, Crete, and Rhodes at 42.19.7–8 and the arrival in Rome of the embassy from the Issaei and the dispatch of the embassy to the Illyrian king Genthius at 42.26.2–7 in mid-172, Livy records the return of a Roman embassy to Perseus, whose purpose was to demand satisfaction and renounce friendship (ad res repetendas … renuntiandamque amicitiam: 42.25.1). There is, however, no record of the dispatch of this embassy, nor would a formal demand for satisfaction (rerum repetitio) be appropriate at this point, for, as Livy (following Polybius) had previously said, the discussion and preparations for war (including the indictio belli), were deferred until after the election of the consuls for 171 (belli administratio ad nouos consules reiecta est: Livy 42.18.2; cf. 42.26.2: cum Macedonicum bellum expectabatur).1 A further problem is caused by Livy’s assertion that the Roman ambassadors demanded that Perseus respond to each and every charge made against him by Eumenes II of Pergamum ([legati] exposita deinde ab se ordine, quae ipsi nuper in senatu Eumenen uera omnia et comperta referentem audissent: Livy 42.25.5). Elsewhere, Livy says that the specifics of the Pergamene king’s indictment only leaked out after the war against Perseus was over (bello denique perfecto, quaeque dicta ab rege quaeque responsa essent emanauere (Livy 42.14.1). And Perseus’ own envoy, Harpalus, was certainly excluded from the closed-door senate audience granted to Eumenes (App. Mac. 11.3, explicit), and could report nothing to the king upon his return to Macedon, beyond the fact of Eumenes’ meeting with the senate, and Roman hostility toward Macedon (Harpalus … nuntiasset regi … Romanos … infestos: Livy 45.15.1–2). In addition, the king’s tone in the passage at Livy 42.25 is uncharacteristically intemperate, compared to his other diplomatic exchanges with 1

Polybian derivation: Briscoe 2012: 9. Falsity of the rerum repetitio: Rich 1976: 89–90.

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the Romans in the run-up to the Third Macedonian War. The king rails at the ambassadors out of anger (regem … accensum ira inclementer locutum, frementem, multum ac diu uociferatum, accensum … uoce clara), accusing the Romans of being greedy and arrogant (auaratiam superbiamque obicientem), and complaining about the repeated embassies sent to spy on him (alii super alios legati uenirent speculatum dicta factaque sua). He insisted on a new treaty based on equality (ex aequo foedus), then quickly stormed off, failing to engage in any of the usual diplomatic courtesies. The Romans then renounced the friendship and alliance, at which the king stopped short, rounded on the ambassadors, and ordered them to depart his kingdom within three days (Livy 42.25.8–13). The king’s obstreperous demeanor and harsh tone here fit ill with his later conciliatory behavior before Roman officials. His demand for an equal treaty is out of kilter with Perseus’ envoys’ later offer to give satisfaction, at the senate’s discretion, for injuries he had done to Rome’s allies (regem de inuriis, si quas sociis factas quererentur, arbitratu senatus satisfacturum esse: Livy 42.36.3). After war had been declared on him, Perseus was perfectly cordial toward Marcius Philippus, agreeing, at the Roman’s suggestion, to cross over as the younger/inferior son to his elder/superior father (ioco etiam Marcius cunctantes mouit: Minor, inquit ad maiores et – quod Philippo ipsi cognomen erat – filius ad patrem transeat. Facile persuasum id regi est). Instead of hostages, Marcius demanded (and Perseus provided) “a pledge of good faith … so that it might appear to the allies that the king was meeting the Roman envoys on by no means equal terms” (pignus fidei … ut appareret sociis nequaquam ex dignitate pari congredi regem cum legatis). The two men then greeted each other not like enemies, but with great warmth and kindness (salutatio non tamquam hostium sed hospitalis ac benignia fuit: Livy 42.39.5–8). After Marcius suggested that Perseus send envoys to the senate, the king still believed that “everything should be tried to the very end, that no hope [for peace] should be overlooked,” to the extent that his “counsels were blinded by a vain hope for peace” (cum experienda omnia ad ultimum nec praetermittendam spem ullam censuisset rex … spes uana pacis occaecasset consilia: 42.43.1, 3). This cost him whatever strategic advantage he may have enjoyed at that moment, since the Romans were still in the midst of their war preparations – which is, of course, why Marcius encouraged the dispatch of ambassadors to Rome in the first place. During this “truce” period (see above, Chapter 4, n. 87), Perseus begged the Rhodians to remain neutral, or if war broke out, to strive as hard as they could to re-establish peace (Polyb. 27.4.4–6; Livy 42.46.3–4). He also

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refused to help the pro-Macedonian Boeotian cities, citing the truce, and warned them not to attack the Romans (Polyb. 27.5.7–8; Livy 42.46.6, slightly modifying Polybius: above, Chapter 4, n. 87). Later still, after his victory over the Romans at the Battle of Callicinus, Perseus tried to negotiate as though he were in the weaker position, offering to accept the conditions of the treaty imposed on his father in 196, including the payment of a 1,000-talent indemnity (Polyb. 27.8.1–5; Livy 42.62.3–10). When that failed, and the Roman commander P. Licinius Crassus demanded that Perseus surrender himself and his kingdom to the senate’s discretion (Polyb. 27.8.7–8; Livy 42.62.11–12), the king sent delegation after delegation to the consul, offering to raise the indemnity by ever-increasing amounts (Polyb. 27.8.13; Livy 42.62.14; cf. App. Mac. 12, who is, however, overly cynical in his interpretation of Perseus’ offers). Perseus’ desire for peace and conciliatory attitude was trumped by the Romans’ refusal to accept defeat, and in fact only redoubled their determination to fight on. The account of the Roman embassy to Perseus at Livy 42.25 is thus deeply problematic, at odds, as it is, with what we know of Perseus’ behavior and attitude around this time. It may go too far, however, to dismiss it entirely as a fiction, as the majority of scholars who have dealt with it do.2 The fact that Livy does not record the dispatch of the embassy is not in itself damning, especially in an author who is inclined to summarize material and omit details. In the previous book, Livy admitted that the great labor involved in recording the history of the Romans is justification enough for not recording in detail the disputes of foreigners (sed externorum inter se bella, quo quaeque modo gesta sint, persequi non operae est satis superque oneris sustinenti res a populo Romano gestas scribere: Livy 41.25.8). Although the dispatch of the Roman embassy that returns at Livy 42.25 does not fit this criterion stricto sensu, the fact that it is related to the rivalry between Eumenes and Perseus may just account for its absence. At the very end of his account of the Roman embassy to Macedon at 42.25, moreover, Livy, seemingly in haste to get to the war itself and not wanting to lose his focus on it, quickly mentions that the senate heard delegations from the Aetolians and Thessalians – without even reporting what

2

Nissen 1863: 246–7, 254; Kahrstedt 1911: 421; Münzer 1920: 152 n. 1; Heuss 1933: 50–1; Klotz 1940: 67– 8; Walbank 1941: 90 n. 60 and 1949: 18 n. 19; Scullard 1950: 200 n. 1, 203 n. 1; Bickermann 1953: 506; Meloni 1953: 177–9; Rich 1976: 89–90; Luce 1977: 123; Harris 1979: 230 n. 2; Warrior 1981: 16–17; Gruen 1984: 410–11; Hammond 1988: 512 n. 1; Goukowsky 2011: 154; Briscoe 2012: 17–18; Waterfield 2014: 258 n. 16. Contra Niese 1903: 111 n. 1; Colin 1904: 379–80, 391; Pais 1926: 556; Benecke 1930: 260; Broughton 1951: 413–14, 415 nn. 8–9; Pareti 1953: 45–6.

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they said (42.25.14; it probably concerned their ongoing debt problems rather than their relations with Perseus). In the very next sentence, he says that the consuls achieved nothing worth mentioning that year (42.26.1), before resuming with cum Macedonicum bellum expectaretur (42.26.2), and reporting the embassies stimulated by Perseus’ activities. The fact that Livy does not report the dispatch of the embassy that returns at 42.25 is therefore not damning in and of itself. The contradictions in Livy’s narrative regarding the rerum repetitio and the report of Eumenes’ specific charges to Perseus need not cause too much trouble either; Livy (or his source) may simply have been getting carried away with his own rhetoric, or the momentum of his narrative, and was thus inadvertently anticipating events here. Related to this, it is not at all inappropriate for the senate to have dispatched an embassy to Macedonia at this point. It stands to reason (and is indeed pattern behavior) that the senate would send a fact-finding embassy to Macedonia to investigate the allegations just made by Eumenes before the senate. Parallel cases are all too numerous to choose from. To take but one example that this study has treated in detail, an embassy was sent in 177 to investigate the complaints of the Dardani and Thracians against the Bastarnae (Polyb. 25.6.2–6; above, Chapter 4, pp. 62, 64, Chapter 5, pp. 99–100). There is thus nothing inherently unlikely about a Roman embassy being sent to Perseus to investigate Eumenes’ complaints; Livy’s stated reasons (ad res repetendas … renuntiandamque amicitiam: 42.25.1) are simply an exaggeration or an anticipation. That leaves Perseus’ intemperate tone and overt hostility to the Roman ambassadors, which seem so out of kilter with his otherwise consistently conciliatory behavior. An angry reaction, however, is only to be expected of a proud monarch suddenly confronted by a charge-sheet from a despised rival. The mutual hatred and rivalry of Eumenes and Perseus are well attested. Livy (42.5.1–6) preserves a Polybian comparison of the two, where their competition to benefit and ingratiate themselves with the Greeks is strongly marked. Perseus, naturally, comes off second best in Livy’s view, but he is equally clear that by the late 170s, the vast majority of the Greek states favored him over Eumenes. Since coming to the Macedonian throne, Perseus had done significant damage to Eumenes’ popularity and reputation among the Greeks, which guaranteed that Eumenes would try to strike back at him any way he could (for example, stoking Roman suspicions of him). This toxic rivalry Livy calls a uetus odium (42.29.2) in the context of the run-up to the Third Macedonian War. In the specific context of the diplomatic exchange under scrutiny here, just before the Roman

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embassy recorded at Livy 42.25 arrived, Harpalus, we are told, had already stoked Perseus’s anger against Eumenes in particular ([Perseus] Eumeni ante omnes infestus erat:  Livy 42.15.3) with his news of the Pergamene king’s presence in Rome. Perseus might well have still been in this state when he faced Servilius Caepio, Claudius Centho, and Annius Luscus in spring, 172, especially if Eumenes’ name (to say nothing of his accusations) was mentioned by them.3 And, of course, there are some other possibilities that must be left open: Perseus was having a bad day, he found the ambassadors personally repugnant, or some combination of the two. In sum, the material at Livy 42.25 may have started out as an unadorned report of a Roman embassy being dispatched to Macedonia, perhaps to sound out Perseus’ attitude in light of the accusations made by Eumenes, but then simply grew in the telling. It was in this somewhat embellished form that the story of the embassy was set down in the historical record after the war was over, perhaps with an eye to bolstering the Roman case for a iustum bellum against Perseus.

3

Perseus, like his father, may have been naturally prone to anger in any case; cf. Polyb. 23.7.5, Livy 40.6.7, etc., in addition to 42.15.3, quoted in the text. Perseus’ anger in 172 is not necessarily contradicted by what Polybius describes as Perseus’ kingly manner, composure, and seriousness at the outset of his reign (Polyb. 25.3.4–7: προστασίαν τὸ τῆς βασιλείας ἀξίωμα … ἐπισκύνιον καὶ τάξιν; see above, Chapter 4, p. 59). Appian’s general statement, in the context of Eumenes’ visit in 172, that Perseus was industrious and self-controlled (σώφρονα καὶ φιλόπονον: Mac. 11.3), is not specific to that situation, since in the same passage Appian also refers to Perseus’ sudden prominence (ἀθρόώς οὕτως ἐπαιρόμενον), which implies that the comment is drawn from same tradition as Polyb. 25.3.4– 7, and thus concerns only the beginning of Perseus’ reign.

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Appendi x  B

The Chronology of 172-171 and the Timing of the Dispatch of Cn. Sicinius (pr. 172) to Epirus

The chronology of events of the years 172 and 171 is very confused, thanks not only to the increasing disjuncture between the Roman calendar and the solar year, but also to Livy’s rather unskillful blending of Polybius’ account with annalistic sources (betrayed by the doublets at 42.26.7–9 and 42.45.1–7, 42.36.1–7 and 42.48.1–4, and the overlapping variants at 42.18.2–3 and 42.27.3–8, and 42.35.3 and 42.48.5).1 It would be pointless to recapitulate here the ongoing scholarly controversy over the absolute (Julian) chronology of the various events leading up to the outbreak of the Third Macedonian War, none of which can be definitive,2 or the insoluble question of which source(s) Livy was following when.3 The only issue that needs resolving here, since it impinges directly on the question of the causes of the war, and whether the Romans were the aggressors in the conflict, is the date of the dispatch of Cn. Sicinius, praetor in 172, across the Adriatic.

1

2

3

I should state right at the outset that this does not make Livy a bad historian; we have all made such mistakes when we have lost control of our irreconcilable source material. Luce 1977 and Warrior 1981, who disagree with the reconstruction of Kahrstedt 1911 and Walbank 1941, which I follow here, seem to assume, rather defensively, that those who side with Kahrstedt and Walbank are excessively uncharitable to Livy. However, accepting Warrior/Luce is no less damning of Livy’s chronology than agreeing with Kahrstedt/Walbank (see below). I am fully sympathetic with Luce’s view (134–5) that Livy did the best anyone could have done in “combining two accounts that clashed on many important points of fact and interpretation.” See, most recently, Briscoe 2012: 5–8 and 21–9 against Bennett 2005. Earlier discussions include Kahrstedt 1911; Walbank 1941; Meloni 1953: 461–3, with 61–209; Oost 1953; Derow 1973; Rich 1976: 92–7; Warrior 1981; Gruen 1984: 414 n. 86; Bennett 2004 and 2005; Wiemer 2004; cf. Michels 1967: 102–3; Hannah 2005: 112. The Quellenforschung argument assumes that all annalistic sources are inherently untrustworthy, and all Polybian material the opposite. The best summary of the different scenarios that have been offered (chiefly Nissen 1863: 243–9 vs. Walbank 1941) is Luce 1977: 124–9, who comes down on the side of Nissen.

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Before turning to this problem, it will be useful to tabulate the chronology adopted in Chapters 4 and 5 of this study, showing both Varronian and Julian dates.4 Varronian

Julian

Nov. 172 Dec. 172/Jan. 171 Jan.–Feb. 171 Jan.–Feb. 171 Jan.–Feb. 171 13 Feb. 171 18 Feb. 171 15 Mar. 171 Mar. 171 Mar.–Apr. 171 early June 171 early June 171 early June 171 late June 171 (?)

Sept. 172 Oct./Nov. 172 Nov.–Dec. 172 Nov.–Dec. 172 Nov.–Dec. 172 11 Dec. 172 18 Dec. 172 12 Jan. 171 Jan. 171 Jan.–Feb. 171 early April 171 early April 171 early April 171 late April 171 (?)

Marcius’ embassy departs Romea Marcius meets with Perseus/“truce”b dissolution of the Boeotian Leaguec arrival of embassy to Aegean and Asiad Perseus sends envoys to Rome, Asiae Cn. Sicinius at Brundisiumf consular electionsg consuls enter officeh return of Marcius/report/debatei departure of Cn. Siciniusj hearing of Macedonian envoysk war declaration/levyl departure of Lucretius with fleetm departure of Licinius with armyn

a

Livy 42.37.1. Livy 42.37–43.3. c Livy 42.43.4–44 (cf. Polyb. 27.1–2). d Livy 42.45 [42.26.7–9] (cf. Polyb. 27.3). This is the embassy whose dispatch is recorded at Livy 42.19.6–8, even though the personnel listed is different: Walbank 1979: 294–5; Briscoe 2012: 17. Contra Warrior 1981: 15. e Livy 42.46 (cf. Polyb. 27.4–5). f Livy 42.27. g Livy 42.28. h Livy 42.29.1. i Livy 42.47. j Livy 42.36.8–9. k Livy 42.48.1–4 [42.36.1–7] (cf. Polyb. 27.6; Diod. Sic. 30.1; App. Mac. 9). l Livy 42.30.10–31.4. m Livy 42.35.3. n Livy 42.48.5–49. b

When did Sicinius depart Brundisium for Epirus? I  have anticipated my own view by placing it after the return of Marcius’ embassy to Greece, his report to the senate, and the noua sapientia debate at the beginning of 4

I have chosen, not completely arbitrarily (although the lack of any definitive solution to the chronological problem would permit it), to follow Kahrstedt 1911; Walbank 1941: 82–6; Meloni 1953: 462–4, with 171–209 (with modifications); Bennett 2004 and 2005. In the citations that follow, items in square brackets indicate doublets.

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consular 171. In this, I am following Walbank 1941/Kahrstedt 1911 against, for example, Warrior 1981: 8–14, 23. As I indicated earlier, a definitive solution to controversy is unobtainable. The problem boils down to which of two phrases in Livy one chooses to reject:  paucis post diebus at 42.37.1 or principio hiemis at 42.44.8. A review of the relevant passages is necessary: Livy 42.27.3–6; cf. 42.18.2–3: Sicinius is instructed to prepare ships and gather 8,400 Latin troops, perhaps send some of them to the ex-praetor A. Atilius Serranus (pr. 173) at Brundisium, enrol 12,100 troops and, after his command is prorogued, hold the province of Macedonia until his successor should arrive in early 171. Livy 42.27.6:  Sicinius’ praetorian imperium had to be prorogued for another year before he crossed to Epirus. Livy 42.36.8–37.1: Sicinius had already crossed to Epirus and garrisoned some places on the Illyrian coast when, “a few days later” (paucis post diebus), Marcius’ embassy arrived at Corcyra. Livy 42.37.3: P. and Ser. Cornelius Lentulus are told to circumnavigate the Peloponnese “before winter” (ante hiemem). Livy 42.37.5; cf. 42.40.1: Perseus asks why the Romans came with troops and are garrisoning cities. Livy 42.44.8:  Marcius’ embassy returns to Rome at the beginning of winter (principio hiemis). Polyb. 27.2.11–12: Marcius asks the Achaeans to garrison Chalcis until the Roman army arrives; Marcius’ embassy carried out its business during the winter (κατὰ χειμῶνα). Livy 42.47.10–11: 2,000 of Sicinius’ troops are sent to garrison Larissa after Marcius’ embassy returns to Rome. Livy 42.43.8; cf. 42.47.2: at the time of Marcius’ interview with Perseus, the Romans were not prepared militarily for the war; the Roman army has not yet crossed to Greece and garrisoned convenient locations. Polyb. 27.4.3–5: Perseus asks the Rhodians to mediate the war with Rome should the Romans attack Macedon. Walbank (following Kahrstedt) argued that Livy’s statement that Marcius’ embassy arrived at Corcyra “a few days after” (paucis post diebus) Sicinius crossed to Epirus, and garrisoned some places on the Illyrian coast, is annalistic and “nothing more than a loose copula without chronological significance.”5 The “loose copula” here was a function of Livy unskillfully fusing 5

Cf. De Sanctis 1923: 398: “è una forma di transizione cronologica introdotta autoschediasticamente ed erroneamente da Livio per collegare due racconti di provenienza diversa i cui rapporti cronologici in realtà Livio non si è studiato di chiarire”; Briscoe 2012: 10: “autoschediasm.”

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together the information from his annalistic source(s) with Polybius.6 T.J. Luce raised the intriguing possibility that paucis post diebus is tied not to Sicinius’ crossing to Epirus, but to his departure from Rome earlier in the month.7 In any case, on the Walbank/Kahrstedt reading, Perseus’ objection to Roman troops garrisoning cities must refer to the activity of the 1,000 troops that accompanied the ambassadors in Greece (Livy 42.37.1), and not to Sicinius’ occupation of Illyrian forts, and the king’s failure to refer to Sicinius’ significant expeditionary force (at least 5,000 men) “is a strong argumentum ex silentio that [Sicinius] in fact had not yet crossed.”8 Finally, Polybius’ report that Marcius’ embassy did its work “during the winter” should be preferred to Livy’s view that the embassy returned to Rome “at the beginning of winter.” After all, the task of P. and Ser. Cornelius Lentulus was to circumnavigate the Peloponnese ante hiemem. Because Polybian winter begins around the time of the autumn equinox (after which sailing becomes riskier), Marcius’ embassy must have arrived in Greece in (Julian) September 172, which allows a good four months for the envoys to carry out their rather complex diplomatic tasks.9 Walbank concludes that the pattern of a Roman embassy, designed to isolate the potential Roman enemy, followed by advance forces wintering on the Illyrian coast has solid parallels from the Antiochene War and the Second Macedonian War. It also makes better chronological sense of Sicinius sending 2,000 men to garrison Larissa after Marcius’ embassy returned to Rome.10 6

7 8

9

10

Cf. also Aymard 1945: 335; Briscoe 1964: 68. Contra Nissen 1863: 246, 250; Meloni 1953: 181, 193 (who oddly cites De Sanctis 1923: 398 (previous n.), despite explaining the problem differently, that Livy simply had trouble synchronizing Polybian Olympiads with Varronian consular years); Walbank 1955: 194. Luce 1977: 126. Walbank 1941: 84. Even Warrior 1981: 23 must admit that the reference to troops could be to the 1,000 men who escorted Marcius’ embassy. It is of no concern to the present argument whether Sicinius was in command of 5,000 infantry and 300 cavalry (as Livy 42.36.8), or a significantly larger amount (18,100, as Livy 42.27.3, 5). Most agree that the lower figure is the correct one, since it comes from Polybius, and has the support of Zon. 9.22.4, where Sicinius’ advance force is described as being “small” (ὀλίγης): Kromayer 1907: 233 and n. 1; Heiland 1913: 20, 40–4; De Sanctis 1923: 275 and n. 1; Walbank 1941: 82 and 1979: 294; Meloni 1953: 193–4 n. 5; Rich 1976: 96–7; Warrior 1981: 42; Hammond 1988: 506. Contra Kahrstedt 1911 (who accepts the numbers reported at Livy 42.27.3, 5); Pareti 1953: 46–7 and n. 1 (who argues that the 5,300 was the portion of the 8,400 mentioned as the advance force at Livy 42.27.3 that Sicinius dispatched to various places in Illyria, keeping the remaining 3,100 with him at Apollonia); Brunt 1972: 659 (who posits a lacuna at Livy 42.36.8 where the rest of the 18,100 of Livy 42.27.3, 5 will have been accounted for). Briscoe 2012: 20–1 remains agnostic. In my view, this is further evidence for Livy’s unskilful blending of multiple sources of information (vs. Warrior’s view of “Livy’s powers of combining his skills as a literary artist and as a historian” (18)). Here Walbank follows Holleaux 1923: 354 and 1932: 533–4 (cf. also Heiland 1913: 50, 71) against e.g. De Sanctis 1923: 398, and later, Pédech 1964: 461–4, who argue that the ancients believed that winter began at the dawn setting of the Pleiades, that is, in early November. Meloni 1953: 180 and n. 1 follows Walbank. Warrior 1981: 26 pushes the arrival of Marcius in Greece to as late as early December or even the winter solstice. Walbank 1941: 84–5 and 1979: 294.

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Erich Gruen added in support to Walbank/Kahrstedt’s arguments that Sicinius’ praetorian imperium had to be prorogued for 171 before he could cross to Epirus, which indicates that his departure from Brundisium occurred after the inauguration of the new consular year 171. Moreover, Marcius had to ask the Achaeans to garrison Chalcis until the Roman army crossed (thus indicating that Sicinius’ army was not yet in Greece), and Perseus asked the Rhodians to try to mediate should the Romans attack Macedon, which indicates that “Roman mobilization still lay in the future.”11 The alternative view,12 which defends Livy’s chronology that has Marcius’ embassy crossing to Greece after Sicinius took his troops across, depends on accepting a late winter date for Marcius’ embassy, thus dismissing Livy’s chronology at 42.44.8, which has Marcius’ embassy returning to Rome at the beginning of winter, and Polybius’ chronology at 27.2.12 (on whom Livy depends here), which has the embassy doing its business during the winter.13 This interpretation must also assume that a literal truce (as opposed to a pause in the escalation of hostilities: above, Chapter 4, n. 87) was granted by Marcius to Perseus,14 and that the legatus Marcius was actually invested with imperium,15 for which there is no precedent or parallel, and is therefore highly unlikely. I prefer the view of Walbank/Kahrstedt, that Sicinius crossed after Marcius’ embassy returned to Rome, since it only requires rejecting the possible autoschediasm at Livy 42.37.1 (paucis post diebus), or, if Luce is right that that chronological marker is tied to Sicinius’ departure from Rome, rejecting none of the evidence at all. This is far preferable to rejecting a host of other evidence that suggests no Roman forces of any significance were on the ground in Greece before late winter/early spring 171.

11

12

13

14 15

Gruen 1984: 413–14 n. 85. Cf. also Meloni 1953: 179–81; Briscoe 1964: 68 and 2012: 10–11; Errington 1979: 209. Kromayer 1907: 233; Heiland 1913: 20, 42–3; Benecke 1930: 259; Pareti 1953: 46–7; Warrior 1981: 8– 14, 23; cf. Rich 1976:  95–6; Luce 1977:  123–6; Hammond 1988:  506 and n.  1, and 1989:  366; Wiemer 2004. The apparent contradiction between Livy’s chronology and Polybius’ may be explained in various ways: either Polybius’ excerptor has distorted what stood in his original text and Livy is correct (so Rich 1976: 94–5, followed by Warrior 1981: 45–6 n. 53), or Livy was trying to reconcile his narrative with his earlier chronological marker ante hiemem (42.37.3) (so Wiemer 2004: 28–9). It is a minor issue and does not affect the main problem under discussion here: the dating of Sicinius’ crossing to Greece with his forces. Warrior 1981: 6, 10. Warrior 1981: 6, 10, 22.

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Appendi x  C

Three Senatus Consulta

Two inscriptions relevant to the Roman treatment of the Boeotian cities in 171–170 survive:  one contains a mere fragment from an s.c. de Coronaeis (SEG 19.374), of unknown date, and the other a complete s.c. de Thisbensibus (Syll.3 646),1 issued on 14 October 170. The text of the former matches very closely a portion of the latter, suggesting a close relationship between the two.2 The decrees record the privileges granted to the restored pro-Roman factions in the cities. Those who remained Rome’s friends before the consul P.  Licinius Crassus brought his army to their walls are confirmed in their possession of what was formerly theirs; they are allowed to fortify the acropolis and live there;3 and at Thisbe, at least, they are granted control of all sanctuaries, revenues, and magistracies for ten years. The Thisbe decree records in addition sanctions against some individuals from the pro-Macedonian party, as well as other matters of dispute that are now obscure. At 43.4.11–13, Livy records that the senate, in response to complaints by the city of Abdera about Roman atrocities committed there in 170, issued an s.c. de Abderitis on the same terms as that issued de Coronaeis the year before.4 This implies that this s.c. de Coronaeis was in response 1 2

3

4

Oddly misidentified by Hammond 1988: 522 n. 1 as SEG 19.374. The Thisbe decree also mentions Coronea in l. 59: the senate will give friendly letters to the Thisbenses and to the Coroneans to the Aetolians and Phocians, and to anyone else they request. There is no reason for the Coroneans to be mentioned here other than as an indicator that the s.c. de Coronaeis was the model for the s.c. de Thisbensibus, which the surviving text of the former would suggest is true. All that survives of the relevant clause in the s.c. de Coronaeis is το περὶ ἄκρας [———————— ————] | τειχίζειν (ll. 10–11). This appears to match the clause permitting the fortification of the citadel in the s.c. de Thisbensibus, but whether the pro-Romans of Coronea were allowed to live there cannot be known. Robert 1938: 287–9 suggested restoring something like the Thisbean decree’s τὴν ἄκραν αὐτοῖς ὅπως τειχίσαι ἐξῆι καὶ ἐκεῖ (ll. 28–9). As Errington 1974: 79–86 argues, there is no reason to doubt Livy’s date since previous challenges to it were based on a misreading of Livy 42.67.11, which does not say that Licinius marched against Coronea in the winter, but that he decided to march against Coronea, Boeotia being a better place to spend the winter. Licinius knew before he started out that a siege might be necessary to bring

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to similar complaints about Roman mistreatment of them. Coronea (as well as Malloea and Pteleum: above, Chapter 6, pp. 137, 139–40) will therefore be among the complures in Graecia urbes that Livy’s epitomator claims Licinius attacked and cruelly plundered during his consulship.5 It is, therefore, quite possible that the s.c. de Coronaeis mentioned by Livy is the very same decree as the epigraphic s.c. de Coronaeis, whose date will therefore be sometime late in 171. A somewhat more vexed question is whether the epigraphic text will have contained a clause or clauses relating to the restoration of the wrongly enslaved inhabitants of Coronea, implicit in Livy 43.4.11–13. Assuming that Coronea is included among the complures in Graecia urbes at Per. 43, whose inhabitants were captured and sold by the consul but later restored ex s.c.,6 this might seem likely. On the other hand, the fully extant epigraphic s.c. de Thisbensibus, whose language resembles that of the extant portion of the epigraphic s.c. de Coronaeis, contains no such provision. It may be that, despite Per. 43 (which also erroneously calls Licinius a proconsul), the restoration of the enslaved, who will have been supporters of Perseus, was not carried out ex s.c. at all, as indeed Livy states in the extant portion of book 43:  “two legates, C.  Sempronius Blaesus and Sextus Julius Caesar, were sent to restore the Abderites to freedom. And they were further ordered to announce to the consul Hostilius and the praetor Hortensius that an unjust war had been brought against the Abderites, and that all who were in servitude should be recovered and restored to liberty.” The senate’s orders to the praetor and consul were to be delivered orally, and were not, apparently, backed up by an s.c.7

5 6

7

Coronea to heel, and so would not have been so foolhardy as to start this process in the winter months. He therefore will have departed for Boeotia in late summer or autumn, 171, which gave him just enough time, if necessary, to besiege Coronea, and then winter in Boeotia. That Coronea surrendered without a fight is likely, given that the other Boeotian city that chose to fight, Haliartus, was destroyed, while Thisbe, which we know surrendered sine certamine (Livy 42.63.12), was not. But there was no way Licinius could have predicted a swift surrender when he set off for Boeotia. The quick surrender of Coronea allowed plenty of time for Licinius to abuse the inhabitants, for the latter to send a delegation to Rome, and for an s.c. to be issued on their behalf, all before the end of consular 171. Livy’s dating of the s.c. de Coronaeis to 171 should stand. Livy Per. 43, with Licinius erroneously called a proconsul (above, Chapter 6, n. 53). P. Licinius Crassus … ob id captiui, qui ab eo sub corona uenierant, ex s.c. postea restituit; cf. Zon. 9.22.6, perhaps following Polybius, who does not mention an s.c., has Licinius Crassus receive a fine, and limits the freeing of the enslaved to those who were in Italy (τόν τε Κράσσον ὕστερον ἐξημίωσαν χρήμασι καὶ τὰς ἑαλωκυίας πόλεις ἠλευθέρωσαν καὶ τοὺς πραθέντας ἐξ αὐτῶν καὶ ἐν τῇ ᾽Ιταλίᾳ εὑρεθέντας τότε παρὰ τῶν ἐωνημένων αὐτοὺς ἐξεπρίαντο). Briscoe 2012: 403 suggests that these activities may have been the subject of a separate s.c. to the one granting privileges to the pro-Romans. Legati duo, C.  Sempronius Blaesus Sex. Iulius Caesar, ad restituendos in libertatem Abderitas missi. Iisdem mandatum, ut et Hostilio consuli et Hortensio praetori nuntiarent, senatum Abderitis iniustum

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209

A good parallel from the same year involves Chalcis. Like Abdera in 170, and Coronea, Malloea, and Pteleum in 171, Chalcis had been brutalized by the Romans, and a Chalcidian delegation sought redress from the senate. Livy writes that “the senators would send a letter to the praetor L. Hortensius saying that the senate was displeased at what the Chalcidians complained about; that if any free persons had been sold into slavery, at the first possible moment he should make every effort that they be recovered and restored to freedom.”8 These commands, in other words, were to be delivered in a letter, and not in a formal decree. I think it stands to reason that material critical of Roman magistrates would not have been enshrined in formal senatorial decrees, especially in time of war. The Romans knew full well that the Greek cities affected by Rome’s harsh treatment would proudly publicize such material in the usual way, in monumental inscriptions set up in public places, since the documents demonstrated Roman benevolence toward themselves. This was bad publicity for Rome in a time of war, and also a potential risk to the political arrangements made by Roman commanders in the cities concerned. Publicizing Roman benevolence to pro-Macedonians wrongly enslaved after surrendering to Rome’s good faith might alienate the pro-Roman faction newly ensconced in power. It might even reignite factional squabbling since the pro-Romans now had to reintegrate their former political enemies into civic life. That trouble might be expected is indicated by the fact that the s.c. de Thisbenses and (perhaps) the s.c. de Coronaeis granted the pro-Roman factions the exclusive right to occupy and fortify the citadels of Thisbe and Coronea. The extant epigraphic s.c.s de Thisbenses and de Coronaeis, like the s.c. de Abderitis mentioned by Livy, most likely only recorded new privileges granted to those peoples, and did not mention explicitly the punishments and humiliations inflicted on them by previous Roman commanders. Those latter were communicated orally or through letters to current Roman commanders on the ground.

8

bellum illatum conquiri omnes, qui in seruitute sint, et restitui in libertatem aequum censere (Livy 42.4.12–13). Unfortunately, the key words, nuntiarent, senatum, are corrupt in the MS. Briscoe 2012: 403 argues that censere indicates a senatorial decree (as e.g. LSJ s.u. II B 1), but here it could just as easily refer to an opinion expressed by a vote (equivalent to sententiam dicere in post-classical Latin) (LSJ s.u. II A 1). The tribune M.  Iuventius Thalna said, litteras se ad L.  Hortensium praetorem daturos esse, quae Chalcidenses querantur acta, ea senatui non placet; si qui in seruitutem liberi uenissent, ut eos conquirendos primo quoque tempore restituendosque in libertatem curare … Haec Hortensio iussu senatus scripta (Livy 42.8.7).

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Appendi x  D

Two Failed Roman Assaults on Uscana in 170?

In an annalistic portion of his text, Livy (43.10) writes that Ap. Claudius Centho was lured into a trap by the people of Uscana, an Illyrian town garrisoned by a small force of Cretan archers in the service of Perseus, and lost 10,000 of his men.1 Later on, in a Polybian section of book 43 (21.1), Livy records another failed Roman attempt on Uscana, this time under the command of L. Coelius, with the town itself being garrisoned by Macedonians rather than Cretans. Despite the significant differences between the two accounts, some scholars suspect a doublet because of the similarity of the names of the Roman commanders (Claudius, Coelius), and some striking verbal similarities between the passages describing their attacks.2 On the other hand, an intervening passage (Livy 43.18.5–11) has the Romans garrisoning Uscana instead of Cretans or Macedonians. Complicating matters further is a passage from Orosius that has Perseus attacking an otherwise unknown town in Illyria called Sulcamum (in some MSS, Sulcanium), which is sometimes emended to read “Uscana” in order harmonize Orosius’ report with Livy’s account of Perseus’ attack on the Roman garrison there at 43.18.5–11.3 The only way to harmonize all the evidence is to reconstruct as follows: Claudius attacked Uscana in late 170 and initially failed to take it (per Livy 43.10); he then attacked it again, this time successfully, eliminating the Cretan garrison (not recorded); Perseus successfully attacked 1

2

3

Claudius brought with him 4,000 Romans and Italians, and gathered 8,000 more allies on the way (Livy 43.9.6–7), and returned to his camp at Lychnidus among the Dassaretii with barely 2,000 men (Livy 43.10.6–7). On Lychnidus, see Briscoe 2012: 419. Briscoe 2012: 419, 424, following Nissen 1863: 60; cf. Kromayer 1907: 261 n. 1; De Sanctis 1923: 296 n. 160; Meloni 1953: 279 n. 2; Walbank 1979: 340. Oros. 4.20.38. The canonical English translation of the Orosius’ Aduersus Paganos by R.J. Defarrari in the Catholic University Press of America edition prints “Uscana”: Defarrari 1964: 167. The most recent English translation confidently notes “In fact Uscana” after printing “Sulcamum” (Fear 2010: 200 n. 292). So, too, the most recent Latin text: Arnaud-Lindet 1991: 68 (Sulcamum), 249 n. 34 (“erreur d’Orose pour Uscana”).

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and took the town back from the Romans (per Livy 43.18.5–11), installed a Macedonian garrison there (per Livy 43.21.1), and also assaulted another Roman-held town called Sulcamum or Sulcanium (per Oros. 4.20.38);4 the Romans attacked Uscana again under Coelius, and failed to retake it (per Livy 43.21.1).5 Whether this is what actually happened cannot be determined, but it should be noted that there is nothing unusual, in a highly lacunose historical tradition, about some material, such as a successful Roman assault by Claudius on Uscana, dropping out. It is perhaps the case that this reconstruction does less violence to the surviving evidence than the alternative, which requires discarding as false the identity of one Roman legate (Claudius or Coelius) and one garrison force (Cretans or Macedonians) – to say nothing of emending Oros. 4.20.38 without any MS authority for doing so. A successful Roman assault on Uscana under Claudius Centho, not reported in the extant tradition, must remain an open possibility.

4

5

The order may be reversed if Sulcamum is among the eleven Illyrian forts Perseus takes at Livy 43.19.5, after his success at Uscana. Cf. Hammond 1988: 522–3, assuming, based on Livy’s mention of Illyriorum cohors of 500 at 43.18.11, that the town’s Illyrian inhabitants rose up against the Cretan garrison after Claudius’ failed attack, and invited the Romans in. If I read him correctly, Pareti 1953: 66 n. 1 suggests that Claudius was subordinate to Coelius, who was in charge of Roman forces in Illyria; Coelius, in other words, sent Claudius to attack Uscana, and Livy 43.10.1–8 and 21.1 refer to the same event, and “Coelius” at 21.1 is metonymical for “Claudius.”

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Appendi x  E

The Roman and Macedonian Positions near Lake Ascuris and the Route of Marcius Philippus through the Lower Olympus Range in 169 The Roman and Macedonian positions near Lake Ascuris are highly controversial. Kromayer located the Macedonian encampment, called Lapathus by Livy (44.2.11), at Agios Elias (512MASL), south of Rapsane, four and a half miles southeast of Lake Ascuris (mod. Lake Nezero, mostly drained).1 Pritchett, however, initially located the camp on Mt. Analipsis (1,365MASL), about a mile north of the lake.2 He then changed his mind, placing the Macedonian camp on Mt. Kolikoumiakou (also called Leake’s Fort) (1,398MASL), four miles northeast of Mt. Analipsis.3 All scholars after Kromayer, including Pritchett in 1969, placed the Roman camp on Mt. Metamorphosis (also called Pinakia, Katé-ti-Vrysi, Durjana, and Livadaki) (1,590MASL), a little under two miles east of Lake Ascuris.4 Pritchett then reconsidered his former view and located the camp on Palaiostathmos (1,398MASL), a little under two miles north of Mt. Metamorphosis,5 but this required rejecting the parenthesis Lapathus uocatur locus at Livy 44.2.11 as an intrusive gloss.6 Nevertheless, his revised view of the location of both camps, and the ridge on which the two armies clashed, is based on autopsy, and makes good sense of the rest of Livy’s account. The location of the mountain variously called Ottolobum, Octolobum, Attalobum, and Octolophum in the MSS of Livy (31.36.6, 31.40.9, 44.3.1), by which Marcius marched toward Lake Azuris, is also controversial.7 1

2 3 4 5 6

7

Kromayer 1907: 272–3 (followed by Meloni 1953: 296 and n. 7; Helly 1972: 281). On the identification of Ascuris with the modern Nezero, see Kromayer 1907: 270 n. 1; Meloni 1953: 291 and n. 3; Pritchett 1969: 170; Briscoe 2012: 469. On what follows, see above, Chapter 6, Figures 6.1 and 6.2. Pritchett 1969: 164–9, with pls. 153, 158–9. Pritchett 1991: 109–12, with fig. 7 on p. 115. Kromayer 1907: 272 and n. 2; Meloni 1953: 296; Pritchett 1969: 173, with pl. 153; Briscoe 2012: 473. Pritchett 1991: 112–16, with Fig. 7 on p. 115 (= my Fig. 6.1, above, Chapter 6, p. 150). Pritchett 1991: 110–11, apparently on the grounds that Livy locates the similarly named Lapathous (also known as Charax) in the Tempe pass (44.6.10–11). Meloni 1953: 295 n. 4 was unsure of its location.

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Pritchett suggested that the actual name of the mountain was Otolobus, “Earlobe,” and found a likely candidate in Mt. Kokouli (1,141MASL), the profile of whose peak contains a concave dip resembling the outline of an earlobe.8 The dux regius, mentioned by Livy (44.3.1), who held this position in 169 cannot be Hippias, according to Briscoe, since his camp was located at least fifteen miles away as the crow flies, near Lake Ascuris.9 A robust debate also surrounds the route by which Marcius descended from the Callipeuce forest into the plains to the east of the foothills of Olympus. There are two possible candidates: the gorge through which the Ziliana River flows, or the Karavidha gorge to its south. Kromayer and his followers opted for the former, but Pritchett has twice defended the latter, on the ground that the Ziliana was easier to traverse, and so would have been blocked by Macedonian garrisons in 169 (Perseus blocked “all the passes,” omnis saltus (Livy 44.2.9)).10 The Karavidha, by contrast, was a far more difficult route, especially for an army with baggage and elephants. “The Romans,” therefore, “hoped to use [the Ziliana route] when they were blocked by the Macedonians at the top of the pass. It follows that … the southern route was not guarded and was … in antiquity a [less] viable way down” – and this was the one Marcius, perforce, chose.11

8 9 10

11

Pritchett 1969: 171–4, with pl. 148, and 1991: 102–4. Briscoe 2012: 471–2. Pritchett 1969:  174, with pl. 143, and 1991:  126–8 (against Kromayer 1907:  277, 283; Meloni 1953: 300). Pritchett 1991: 124.

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Appendi x  F

The ἐπιστόλιον of Scipio Nasica and the Battle of Pydna in 168

Knowledge of the Battle of Pydna suffers not only from the loss of Polybius and the large lacuna in the sole surviving MS of Livy book 44, but also from partisan accounts written by participants after the event. The most important of these is a memoir written by Scipio Nasica Corculum (cos. I 162, cos. II 155), a first cousin once removed of Paullus’ brother-in-law, Scipio Africanus Maior, and addressed to a king, probably Massinissa of Numidia. Traces of the memoir survive most prominently in Plutarch’s Life of Aemilius Paullus, and much of this material conflicts with what we know (or think we know) stood in Polybius’ original account, and the surviving Polybian-derived material in Livy book 44. The most important discrepancies are: 1. The number of Roman troops that accompanied Scipio on his flanking maneuver around Olympus. 2. The number of Macedonian troops guarding the Petra pass. 3. The timing of Perseus’ garrisoning of the Petra pass. 4. The mood in the Roman camp on the night of 21 June, during the eclipse of the moon. 5. How the Battle of Pydna began.1 Scipio’s account has been variously accepted as fact, rejected as selfglorifying propaganda, reconciled with other surviving accounts, and cherry-picked for seemingly reliable data, with the rest discarded.2 In my 1

2

There are several more discrepancies, which may be traceable to Scipio’s memoir, including the negotiations for Perseus’ surrender at Samothrace, and Paullus’ treatment of the captured king (see, conveniently, Lehmann 1969: 405–10). On the modern scholarly controversy over Scipio’s marching route around Olympus, see above, Chapter 6, nn. 145 and 149. Skeptics include Niese 1903: 160–1 n. 5; Lehmann 1969; Hammond 1988: 544, 545 and n. 3, 546; optimists include Pritchett 1969: 159–60; harmonizers include Kromayer 1907: 305 n. 1; Meyer 1909: 783– 4 and nn.; Heiland 1913: 66–7; De Sanctis 1923: 321 n. 321; Meloni 1953: 367; Pareti 1953: 85–6 n. 1, 87, 89–90 n. 3, 90 n. 1; Hammond 1984: 42; pickers and choosers (understandably overlapping to some extent with the previous category) include Kromayer 1907: 303 n. 1, 304 n. 1; Benecke 1930: 268; Walbank 1979: 380, 383; Hammond 1984: 41, 42. The only agnostic is Pais 1926: 566 n. 114.

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own account of the Pydna campaign in Chapter 6, I strived to avoid crediting the Scipionic version of events since I believe it to be highly tendentious, and it contradicts what we know from other, what I judge to be more reliable – that is, less transparently politically motivated, and more self-consciously historical – sources.3 In terms of the first problem, Scipio claimed that he was accompanied by 8,200 infantry and 120 cavalry on his flanking maneuver (Plut. Aem. 15.5–6). We know that Polybius had a different number, for Plutarch states explicitly that the 8,320 men Scipio says he took with him “is not as many as Polybius says.”4 Frustratingly, Plutarch does not say what that number is; it has also partially disappeared into a lacuna in Livy’s Polybian-derived account. Perhaps not surprisingly, then, the vast majority of scholars accept the only extant figures, that is, Scipio’s.5 The relevant Livy passage (44.35.14) reads quinque delectorum militum, five men, in the MS  – an absurdly small number. Briscoe restores this as quinque delectorum/is militum, 5,000 men, demanded by Plutarch’s different Polybian number.6 Hammond argues that the mission would have required no more than a few hundred men, and so perhaps Briscoe’s figure is too high.7 As Briscoe points out, however, the easiest way to explain the problem is to assume that ū (where ū = 5,000) once stood in the Livian exemplar, but the macron over the u was lost in transmission – a fairly common corruption – and became u (where u = 5). For Lehmann, what matters most is that Polybius’ integrity must be assumed to be higher than Scipio’s, and so rejects the latter’s figure of 8,320 men on the principle of quo accuratius, eo falsius.8 The second and third problems are interrelated. Whereas Livy, following Polybius, wrote that a garrison of perhaps 5,000 Macedonians was in the Petra pass at Pythium and Petra before Scipio left Heracleum,9 Scipio 3

4

5

6 7 8 9

I include Polybius among the latter, even though he may have fallen victim to his Macedonian informants, who tried to distance themselves from Perseus and his regime, resulting in Polybius’ perhaps excessively hostile picture of the king (above, Chapter 5, pp. 93–4), and was close to Paullus’ son Scipio Aemilianus Africanus Minor. On the other hand, as Lehmann 1969: 401–2, 412 has shown, Polybius knew of Aemilianus’ relative Scipio’s version of events, but firmly rejected some parts of it. ἡσθεὶς οὖν ὁ Αἰμίλιος δίδωσιν αὐτοῖς οὐχ ὅσους Πολύβιος εἴρηκεν, ἀλλ᾽ ὅσους αὐτὸς ὁ Νασικᾶς λαβεῖν φησι (Plut. Aem. 15.3). Kromayer 1907:  303 n.  1; Meyer 1909:  470 and n.  1; Heiland 1913:  65; Pais 1926:  566; Benecke 1930: 268; Pareti 1953: 88; Meloni 1953: 365–6 and n. 4; Walbank 1979: 380; Hammond 1984: 41. Briscoe 2012: 580. Hammond 1984: 41. Lehmann 1969: 391–3. Briscoe 2012:  570, on the same principle as enunciated in his emendation at Livy 44.35.14 (see above), argues that the milia (or, more likely, the macron over the u in the exemplar) between

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Appendix F

said that the pass was empty when he entered, but then a Cretan deserter informed Perseus about the Romans’ entry, and the king installed a garrison of 12,000 men, against whom Scipio and his men fought a fierce battle after surprising them in their sleep.10 Leaving aside the self-glorifying elements in this tale (Scipio fought from his horse an aristeia against a giant Thracian, and killed him with his cavalry lance), despite the best efforts of scholars, beginning with Plutarch himself, there is no plausible way to reconcile Scipio’s evidence with Polybius’. The timeline, for one thing, cannot work. Scipio’s men made it from Heracleum to Pythium, a distance of more than twenty miles over rough, hilly terrain, in a single night (Plut. Aem. 15.8). The Cretan deserter who reported Scipio’s marching route to Perseus will have had to make his way back along Scipio’s route to the king at Dium to make his report to Perseus, and Perseus will have had to send his 12,000 men over fifteen miles from Dium to Pythium and Petra (Livy 44.32.9), where the soldiers will have had enough time to encamp and sleep – all of this before Scipio launched his assault on the sleeping soldiers at Pythium, when the great struggle ensued (Plut. Aem. 16.3). Modern scholars, trying to salvage Scipio’s account, are forced to invent alternative scenarios, whereby Scipio surprised the Macedonians at Pythium and either began slaughtering them before a great battle ensued, or slaughtered them where they slept, and then moved on to Petra, where the great battle against another group of Macedonians ensued.11 Because of the unreliability of the self-serving Scipionic memoir, I prefer to reject what cannot be reconciled with Livy’s Polybian account:  Scipio and his men surprised the Macedonian garrison that had earlier been installed in the pass, and slaughtered them where they slept. Turning to the fourth point, four versions of what happened in the Roman camp on the night of the lunar eclipse of 21 June exist. The earliest, but incomplete version, in Polybius (29.16; cf. Just. Epit. 33.1.7), simply contrasts the mood in the Roman camp during the eclipse – joy and elation at the portended fall of Macedon – with the panic among the Macedonians. Cicero (Rep. 1.23–4; cf. Val. Max. 8.1.1), reports that the learned Sulpicius

10

11

quinque and Macedonum at Livy 44.32.9 dropped out in the process of transmission, and thus restores quinque Macedonum. Zon. 9.23.3, following Livy or Polybius, reports that “a very small guard,” ἐλαχίτην … ϕρουράν, was holding the Petra pass. Plut. Aem. 16.1–3. Rejected, along with the skeptics, by Kromayer 1907: 304 n. 1; Benecke 1930: 268; Walbank 1979: 383; Hammond 1984: 42. Meyer 1909: 783–4 and nn.; Heiland 1913: 66–7; De Sanctis 1923: 321 n. 321; Meloni 1953: 367; Pareti 1953: 85–6 n. 1, 89–90 n. 3, 90 n. 1; cf. Kromayer 1907: 305 n. 1; Meyer 1909: 784; Pareti 1953: 87; Hammond 1984: 42.

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Galus, in 168 a tribunus militum in Paullus’ service, explained to the terrified men the morning after the eclipse the scientific reason for the incident, thus calming everyone down. Livy (44.36–37.9; cf. Plin. NH 9.53; Quint. 1.10.47; Front. Str. 1.12.8) has Sulpicius predict the eclipse before the assembled soldiers, and explain the phenomenon, and so on the following night all was calm in the Roman camp, while widespread panic gripped the Macedonians. The version preserved in Zonaras (9.22.4–5, via Dio, probably annalistic) has Paullus predict the eclipse before the assembled soldiers. Plutarch’s account (Aem. 16.7–13) lacks any prediction, by Sulpicius or Paullus, and instead has the Roman soldiers follow their usual practice during an eclipse of the moon – clashing bronze utensils together in order to call the moon back, and wielding torches and firebrands. Paullus, though he understood the scientific explanation for the phenomenon, nevertheless, because he was a pious man, sacrificed eleven heifers as the moon began to re-emerge. In the morning, he sacrificed twenty oxen before the twenty-first predicted victory if he remained on the defensive. He then ordered his men to prepare for battle, and calmly sat in his tent until late in the day, so the sun would not be in his men’s eyes when they joined battle. Most scholars now reject the historicity of Sulpicius’ involvement for a number of reasons, the most important of which is that Polybius apparently did not know of it, and so it must come from an annalist.12 It may be, however, that Polybius’ account is simply too fragmentary at this point or compressed by his excerptor to exclude the possibility that Sulpicius played a role similar to that in Cicero, our earliest Latin source, that is, that the military tribune explained the eclipse to the men the next morning. Moreover, Polybius disliked Sulpicius – he describes him as “a man who had lost his wits”13 – and so may have maliciously scrubbed him from the eclipse episode. But if Zonaras, perhaps following a different annalist from the one Cicero used, is correct in saying that Paullus predicted the eclipse to his men before it occurred, then what are we to make of Plutarch’s elaborate and detailed account, where Paullus knows the scientific explanation for the phenomenon, but does not share it with his men, and instead performs a sacrifice out of piety? In 1969, Lehmann made the intriguing suggestion that, like a lot of other variants surrounding the Pydna story, the allegation of Sulpicius’ involvement ultimately goes back to Scipio’s account.14 12

13

14

De Sanctis 1923:  270–1; Meloni 1953:  377; Walbank 1979:  386–7; Hammond 1988:  552; Briscoe 2012: 584–5. παρεστηκὼς ἄνθρωπος τῇ διανοίᾳ (Polyb. 31.6.5; on the meaning of διάνοια here, see LSJ, s.u. B 6). Lehmann 1969: 399–400 and n. 38, 400–1.

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Appendix F

This would seem to make sense since the logical consequence of the story – that Paullus was eager to bring on battle (our fifth problem) – must also depend on Scipio. In Plutarch, Paullus, as a consequence of the eclipse, sacrifices ox after ox until he gets the prediction of victory in a defensive clash, and then calmly sits in his tent until late in the day, when the position of the sun will not affect his men. Then, toward evening, the consul brings on the battle by arranging for a draught animal to bolt across the riverbed toward the enemy lines (Plut. Aem. 17.11–18.1). Plutarch then reports a variant tradition at Aem. 18.2 (derived, perhaps, from Posidonius, the other source he consults for Pydna: above, Chapter 6, n. 159), according to which some Thracians under a certain Alexander attacked Roman foraging parties, and 700 Ligurians retaliated, thus beginning the battle. Plutarch then reverts to the source he followed at Aem. 17.11–18.1, describing Paullus calmly leaving his tent and encouraging the soldiers, and then – and here is Lehmann’s damning evidence for Plutarch’s account of the eclipse – Scipio rides out to the skirmishers, and sees the enemy advancing, among whom are the Thracians who, Plutarch says, Scipio described in his account as most fearsome in appearance (Aem. 18.3–5). And, of course, the subsequent Roman victory vindicates Scipio’s advice to Paullus the day before – that he should not wait for Perseus to withdraw deeper into Macedonia, but take the fight to the enemy straightaway (Livy 44.36.8–14, 38.1–3 (where Paullus describes Scipio as “an outstanding young man,” egregius adulescens), Plut. Aem. 17.3–4). All of this is, once again, a Scipionic whitewash. Nobody predicted the eclipse, it did not seem to agitate the Romans, the battle began the next day by accident, Paullus was not planning to fight that day, and in fact was caught unawares when the fighting broke out.15 In sum, where it conflicts with other evidence, the evidence that is explicitly attributed or likely traceable to Scipio’s self-aggrandizing ἐπιστόλιον is probably to be rejected – the practice I have followed in my account of the Pydna campaign.

15

As Lendon 2005:  204–5, 208 points out, Paullus hoped to delay as long as possible since the Macedonian phalanx was deployed on ground of Perseus’ choosing and most suited to it; the consul believed that, if he waited long enough, he could lure the Macedonians onto the more uneven ground in front of the Roman camp. For the record, most scholars believe that the battle started as Livy says, that is, by accident (Kromayer 1909: 316–28 and 1924: 600–8; Meloni 1953: 385; Hammond 1984: 44). As Meloni points out, Paullus’ victory monument at Delphi seems to represent a bolting horse in a prominent position, but the surviving fragments surrounding the horse cannot tell us whether this was by accident or prearranged by the consul. The belief of Niese 1903: 162, and Meyer 1909: 791, that Perseus actually brought on the battle, has found no followers.

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