The Fabii and the Gauls: Studies in historical thought and historiography in Republican Rome 9783515100403

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James H. Richardson The Fabii and the Gauls

historia

Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte | Revue d’histoire ancienne |

Journal of Ancient History | Rivista di storia antica

einzelschriften

Herausgegeben von Kai Brodersen, Erfurt |

Mortimer Chambers, Los Angeles | Martin Jehne, Dresden | François Paschoud, Genève | Aloys Winterling, Berlin Band 222

James H. Richardson

The Fabii and the Gauls Studies in historical thought and historiography in Republican Rome

Franz Steiner Verlag

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. Dieses Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. © Franz Steiner Verlag, Stuttgart 2012 Druck: AZ Druck und Datentechnik, Kempten Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Printed in Germany. ISBN 978-3-515-10040-3

PREFACE The following work began life as a doctoral thesis which was submitted and defended at the end of 2004. The subsequent conversion of the thesis into the present format was carried out almost entirely during a period of research leave which was granted to me in 2009, and I am extremely grateful to the University of Wales, Lampeter (as it was then; it is now, following its recent merge, the University of Wales, Trinity Saint David) for giving me an opportunity to carry out the necessary work. I should like to thank Professor Stephen Oakley, who not only examined the thesis, but who also took time out of a very busy schedule to read the revised version, and Dr. Federico Santangelo who similarly read the entire manuscript. Both made many helpful suggestions for improvement, for which I am most grateful. It hardly needs to be said that the remaining errors and overly conjectural arguments are all very much my own. Special thanks are also due to Professor Peter Wiseman for his expert and erudite supervision and for his unfailing support and encouragement. The original research on which much of this book is based was funded by a doctoral scholarship from the Foundation for Research, Science and Technology, and I should like to thank the Foundation for giving me the opportunity to continue my studies at the University of Exeter. No mere expression of thanks could ever be sufficient for conveying the depth of my gratitude to my wife, whose encouragement and extraordinary support have gone far beyond the call of duty. It is to her, and to my parents, that I dedicate this book. Lampeter, May 2011

J. H. R.

CONTENTS Introduction .......................................................................................................

9

I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography .........................................................................................

17

1. Introduction ................................................................................................ 2. Models of behaviour................................................................................... 1. L. Iunius Brutus .................................................................................... 2. P. Decius Mus ....................................................................................... 3. The patrician Claudii ............................................................................ 3. Thinking differently ................................................................................... 1. Modern approaches............................................................................... 2. Ancient paradigms ................................................................................ 4. Heirs, aspirations and expectations ............................................................ 5. General claims ............................................................................................ 6. Significance ................................................................................................

17 21 21 24 26 30 30 33 38 47 52

II. The traditions of the Fabii ............................................................................

57

1. Introduction ................................................................................................ 57 2. Q. Fabius Verrucosus, ‘the Delayer’........................................................... 58 3. The Fabii Vibulani and the concord of the state......................................... 65 1. The Fabii Vibulani (485–479 BC) ........................................................ 65 2. The Fabii and the concord of the state .................................................. 77 4. The battle of Cremera and the story of the sole survivor ........................... 81 5. The Fabii and the Sempronii ...................................................................... 83 6. Elderly fathers and rash sons...................................................................... 84 7. Q. Fabius Maximus Verrucosus and Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus .......... 94 8. The piety of the Fabii ................................................................................. 105 9. The Fabii and conspiracies against the state .............................................. 110 10. Conclusion.................................................................................................. 112

8

Contents

III. The Fabii and the Gauls .............................................................................. 115 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Introduction ................................................................................................ The sack of Rome....................................................................................... History and tradition................................................................................... Athens and Rome ....................................................................................... The Fabii and the Gauls ............................................................................. The Fabii and the consulship...................................................................... Conclusions ................................................................................................

115 116 123 130 139 153 159

Epilogue ............................................................................................................ 163 Bibliography ..................................................................................................... 165 Index ................................................................................................................. 175

INTRODUCTION Much has been written during the course of the last hundred years or so about the works of Rome’s republican historians. Livy’s methods, for instance, the manner in which he arranged his material, and the style in which he wrote have all received extensive treatment. As for his many predecessors, even though virtually all of their works have been lost, a great deal has nonetheless been written about them as well. It has, for example, been argued that Licinius Macer in his history may have sought to rationalise the mythical elements in the tradition of Rome’s past, and that he appears to have used his account of the conflict of the orders to comment upon contemporary politics. Valerius Antias, it has been suggested, may have inserted numerous Valerii into the tradition and may have even given them a prominent role in events. As Livy pointed out, Antias also tended to exaggerate, and Livy noted that Licinius Macer was not to be trusted when he wrote about his own family.1 A very great deal has equally been written about the source material that may (or may not) have been available to Rome’s republican historians and about the ways in which they may (or may not) have used that material. In contrast to all this, comparatively little attention has been given to those various things – beliefs and thoughts about human behaviour, and about the ways in which, and the reasons for which, events occur – that were common to all or most of Rome’s historians, and indeed to all or most Romans. It is the purpose of this work to discuss several Roman views and beliefs about human nature and about history and historiography, and to attempt to measure something of the impact that these seemingly common beliefs have had on the literary tradition. The principal contention is that the Romans often thought about human behaviour, and consequently about the events of the past and about what constitutes a plausible method for reconstructing and explaining those events, in ways that are profoundly different from the ways in which such things are thought about today, and that these differences in thinking have had a significant and, by modern standards, extremely detrimental effect on the value of the literary tradition. This may, however, seem like a rather obvious thing to say. After all, some aspects (for example, the Roman tendency to assume that the past was little or no different from the present) have been discussed at some length, and a considerable amount has been written on the subject of Roman attitudes towards history and historiography. It is now generally accepted that the literary tradition of republican Rome is above all a 1

On Macer as a rationalising historian, cf., e. g., Walt (1997) 150–69; on Macer and politics, e. g., Wiseman (2009) 19–80 passim; on Antias, e. g., Wiseman (1998) 75–89. For Livy’s views, cf., e. g., 3.5.12–13, 26.49.3, 30.19.11, 33.10.8, 34.15.9, 36.19.12, 36.38.6–7, 38.23.8, 39.41.6 on Antias, and 7.9.5 on Macer.

10

Introduction

social or ideological construct.2 But, despite all this discussion and debate, it is nonetheless quite striking just how often the literary tradition of Rome’s past is still treated as, essentially, a reasonably straightforward record of events, as a record of what actually happened. Almost everyone agrees that the tradition of Rome’s earliest history is extremely unreliable, and indeed wholly fictitious in a great many parts, and most people agree that the tradition has been embellished with all manner of unhistorical detail. Most people acknowledge that the attitude of many of Rome’s historians towards documentary evidence was, by modern standards at least, often seriously deficient. And yet the literary tradition (usually, but not always, with the exception of the tradition of Rome’s earliest history) is nonetheless still generally treated as, in essence, just an account of events. Peel away the embellishment (the ‘narrative superstructure’, as it has been called) and what is left (the ‘structural facts’ or the ‘historical core’) is basically a genuine – if perhaps a little patchy in places – record of what actually happened in ancient Rome.3 Behind this approach there lies a fundamental assumption, namely that, all their desires to embellish and elaborate, and all their literary pretensions and political agendas aside, Rome’s historians were basically not that different, or even in any way different, in their thinking from people today. What they produced was just literary history, literary history that was composed with varying degrees of poetic licence taken along the way, with the grinding of an occasional axe, the pushing of a political agenda or two, with a desire to entertain, with various gaps filled in and skeletal narratives fleshed out, and so forth. Modern debate about the value of the tradition therefore need only really focus upon the sources that may have been available to Rome’s historians, the ways in which Rome’s historians appear to have used those sources, the extent to which they could make up stories, the extent to which they could lie, and so on (all the while not infrequently supposing that modern definitions of invention, falsehood, the truth and the like were equally applica-

2 3

So, for instance, Cornell (1986a) 83: ‘The historical tradition of the Roman Republic was not an authenticated official record or an objective critical reconstruction; rather, it was an ideological construct, designed to control, to justify and to inspire’. For the distinction between the ‘structural facts’ and the ‘narrative superstructure’, see Cornell (1986a) 85–86, (2005) 53, 58, 61–62, (1995) 17–18, and (2004) 129; for the adoption of this approach by others, see, e. g., Smith (2006) who also talks of ‘structural facts’ (e. g., 198). The approach has been criticised, but not infrequently on the grounds that it is impossible to draw any such distinction, a response which still seems to assume the presence of something akin to a simple record of events. Harris (1990) 495–96, for instance, dismisses Cornell’s approach, but goes on to say: ‘No one, I hope, will claim that what we have in the literary sources on this subject is any better than a bare factual outline embedded in a mass of romance, error, propaganda and rhetoric’, and thus retains the assumption that the tradition is, in its most basic element, a record of events; cf. similarly Smith (2006a) 223: ‘One of the great difficulties for everyone who writes on early Rome is that the criteria for choosing what to keep as fact and what to jettison as invention are highly subjective’. The metaphor of the historical ‘core’ is one very commonly employed. The problem is, if the very thinking behind the tradition is, by modern standards, unhistorical (as will be argued here), then why should any ‘factual outline’ or ‘facts’ have been immune or impervious to the effects of this unhistorical thinking?

Introduction

11

ble in the ancient world).4 Modern debate has, in effect, concerned itself primarily with two things: the sources that Rome’s historians may have used, and the literary genre of history, its nature, its requirements and the limits of what was acceptable; it has concerned itself much less with Roman thinking and theorising, and how such things may have affected what the Romans actually wrote. Thus, while numerous histories of Rome begin rightly enough with a discussion of the sources, surprisingly few give much or indeed any consideration to the ways in which the Romans thought about human behaviour and in turn about the events of their past,5 and yet the ways in which they thought about these things must inevitably have had an enormous impact on what they actually wrote about their past. The following study considers two important and related phenomena. The first chapter (‘The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography’) looks at the Roman tendency to believe that members of the same gens behave in the same way and consequently do similar things, and at the possible effects that this belief may have had on Roman thinking about the past.6 Chapter II (‘The traditions of the Fabii’) continues to pursue this same theme and attempts to measure something of the impact which this belief has had on the literary tradition. It does so by means of a case study, a detailed examination of the presentation of the early members of the gens Fabia in the literary tradition. Chapter III (‘The Fabii and the Gauls’) examines – by means of a detailed analysis of the tradition of the 4

5

6

In fact, they do not appear to have been; see, e. g., Wiseman (1993), (1981) 387–90, (1979); Woodman (1988), who includes various references to, and discussion of, the work of those scholars who simply assume or who believe that modern ideas about the truth and about history and historiography were equally applicable in the ancient world; more recently, see Marincola (2009) 18–19, with some modifications and further bibliography. A full-scale attack on the views of Wiseman and Woodman can be found in Lendon (2009), who argues that the jejune notices in the early books of Livy prove that the tradition of Rome’s early history rests upon documentary sources (46–49), but the matter is not so straightforward; such an approach does not, for instance, explain the discrepancies that can be found in those notices, and in the consular and triumphal Fasti, and there are alternative explanations available (cf. Chapter I, section 5 for further details); nor does Lendon succeed, in the end, in proving that the ancient definition of the truth was no different from the modern. See, e. g., Ogilvie and Drummond (1989), an essay of twenty-nine pages devoted entirely to the sources for early Roman history, in which just a few paragraphs (on pages 26–27) are dedicated to the influence of Roman thought and theorising about the past and about human behaviour; the situation is similar in Bispham (2006), an essay of twenty pages, in which only a few sentences (on page 48) are dedicated to differences in approach and thinking, differences which are then played down in the subsequent paragraph; there is, in contrast, essentially nothing to be found in, to pick only a few examples, Astin (1989); Lintott (1994); Cornell (1995) 1–26; Forsythe (2005) 59–77. While it is not, strictly speaking, an historical work, note also Oakley (1997) 3–108, although relevant issues are touched upon in places. It should be noted from the outset that a distinction needs to be made between models of behaviour which were unique to specific gentes and general exemplary figures who embodied particular qualities (such as virtus, frugalitas or honestas). Although individuals may have aspired to behave in accordance with the standards set by some exemplar of frugality, for instance, this was, as will become clear, something very different from the emulation of ancestral models of behaviour, which was automatically expected and indeed simply taken for granted.

12

Introduction

Gallic sack of Rome – the Roman practice of incorporating material into their historical tradition simply because that material conformed with expectations, or fitted with generally accepted ideas and theories about what is plausible and what is appropriate to history and historiography. The effects of this practice can be seen most clearly in the standardised presentation of members of the same gens (the issue addressed in Chapters I and II), but they can also be seen elsewhere. They can be found, it will be suggested, in those episodes in the Roman historiographical tradition which appear to have been lifted from Greek tradition, or adapted to conform with Greek thinking (for historiography was, after all, a Greek invention). In all parts of the book, therefore, it is the repetition of events in the historiographical tradition which will be used as a means to gain some insight into Roman thinking about history and historiography. Events at different times and in different places can, of course, pan out similarly, and the individual members of a specific family can, from time to time, behave similarly and achieve similar things (and this is especially the case in a society where the range of activities that members of the nobility were expected to pursue was relatively restricted and where emulation of ancestral deeds was expected). Allowances must be made for this; the strength of the present argument lies in the extent of the repetition that is found in the tradition, and in the repetition of precise details and themes. It is necessary at this point to say a few words about the method that has been employed in attempting to discern repetition in the tradition. The approach that has been taken in Chapters II and III of the book has deliberately tended very much towards the inclusive. That is to say, an extremely wide range of possible parallels and repetitions has been explored. Inevitably this may well have resulted in some forced arguments and tenuous inferences, and some suggestions that may not appear to be entirely persuasive. There are two reasons why this approach has nonetheless been adopted. Firstly, an unpersuasive connection is as useful as a persuasive one, even if only in a negative way, as it allows for the limits of the repetition and patterning to be tested. What counts as persuasive will, moreover, inevitably vary from person to person and so an inclusive approach will allow readers to assess the evidence as they wish and to discard whatever they find unconvincing. However, allowances must be made for ancient thinking too, and this is the second (and more important) reason why this approach has been adopted. One of the principal theses of this book is that people in antiquity were considerably more alert and more open to seeing repetition in behaviour and parallels in events than people are today, and that people in antiquity were more likely and more willing to draw connections between events than people are today. Consequently what may seem forced to modern tastes need not have done so to ancient. It is worth illustrating this briefly with one example here.7 Consider for instance the discussion concerning Themistocles and Coriolanus that takes place between Cicero and Atticus in Cicero’s Brutus. Cicero draws the 7

Various other examples can be found in Chapter I, and elsewhere; see esp. Chapter I, section 3.2 (the discussion of the Furii, the Manlii and the Gauls) and also section 5. For another good example see Krebs (2006) on the story of the Roman military tribune who, according to the Elder Cato, did the same thing as Leonidas at Thermopylae.

Introduction

13

following parallels between the two men: they were near contemporaries; each was prominent in his state; each was driven from his state by an ungrateful people; each then went over to the enemy; each later died voluntarily, although Cicero notes that Atticus preferred a different version of Coriolanus’ fate. In response to all this, Atticus points out that, according to Thucydides, Themistocles died naturally and it was only suspected that he had poisoned himself; it was the later writers Clitarchus and Stratocles who invented the story that he had died after drinking the blood of a sacrificed bull.8 As for Coriolanus, it would appear that, in Fabius Pictor’s version of the story, Coriolanus did not commit suicide. Instead he lived to an old age in exile.9 In other accounts, there is a different version of his demise, according to which he was killed, but not by his own hand. Dionysius of Halicarnassus says that he was stoned to death by the supporters of Attius Tullius, that is, by some of the very people to whom he had defected.10 Once the elements of suicide are removed from the story of Coriolanus, the parallels with Themistocles that are left (or better, that had previously existed in the story) are merely prominence, then exile and defection. But these supposed parallels largely evaporate on closer inspection, partly because they are so very general, and partly because they are also rather forced (note, in particular, the idea that the people of Rome were ungrateful to Coriolanus, a man who was an outspoken opponent of the plebeians and who had, tradition claimed, actually sought to do them considerable harm; and Coriolanus’ achievements and prominence prior to his exile – which was voluntary in some accounts – are scarcely comparable with Themistocles’).11 The details of the careers of these two men are really quite different in a great many respects,12 and these differences far outweigh the few parallels that do exist between them. It is safe to say that no one today would ever consider making anything much of these parallels. And yet, to return to the Brutus, it would seem (even when allowances are made for the lighthearted nature of the exchange between Cicero and Atticus) that they were considered fairly comprehensive. For Atticus goes on to allow Cicero to attribute to Coriolanus precisely the same method of committing suicide that Themistocles was said by Clitarchus and Stratocles to have employed and, by doing so, to make everything the same for both men. Coriolanus, says Atticus, will thus plainly appear as a sec8 9 10 11 12

Cic. Brut. 41–43. Pictor fr. 17P = Livy 2.40.10–11; see Ogilvie (1965) 335: Pictor had himself already incorporated Greek elements into the story, although these had nothing to do with Themistocles. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.59.1; cf. also Plut. Cor. 39.4; App. Ital. 5.5; Dio fr. 18.12; and, with some confusion, Polyaenus Strat. 8.25.3. Coriolanus’ voluntary departure from Rome appears to have subsequently been changed into official exile: see, e. g., Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.1.2. Note that Plutarch paired Themistocles with Camillus, and Coriolanus with Alcibiades. Compare their different backgrounds as well as their very different relationships with the people; compare too their careers in exile. Themistocles was elected archon; Coriolanus was not elected consul but was instead, in some versions, rebuffed by the people (an important element – see, e. g., Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 7.21.2 – and a conspicuous difference, and one which may have been smoothed over at a later date: according to De vir. ill. 19.2, Coriolanus did hold the consulship).

14

Introduction

ond Themistocles!13 However thin or forced the parallels between Coriolanus and Themistocles may seem to modern thinking, they were evidently not so thin to ancient. Moreover, since the story of Coriolanus appears to have been modified to make his career appear more like Themistocles’, it seems safe to suppose that the parallels that had previously existed between their careers must have been even more tenuous still; and yet they must nonetheless have provided sufficient grounds for some comparison to be made, for it was this initial comparison that undoubtedly first stimulated the process of homogenisation. What counted as a noteworthy or plausible parallel or repetition of events in antiquity could obviously differ considerably from what would count as one today, and it is above all for this reason that what may seem like forced or tenuous connections have been included in the discussion in Chapters II and III, at least in those places where they may conceivably fit. All this does naturally make some elements of the argument difficult to judge. After all, the use of modern criteria of plausibility may necessitate the dismissal of certain parallels and repetitions (and any number of these may have been missed in the discussion in any case), but it is, on the other hand, scarcely possible to judge elements of the discussion by ancient standards, and any attempt to do so runs the risk of making the argument circular. There is no easy solution. The matter has, therefore, been left up to the reader to decide. Fortunately many of the suggested parallels and repetitions largely stand (or fall) on their own merits, and so specific elements can easily be dismissed here and there without significant damage to the fundamental argument. As for the origins of the various repetitions and parallels that will be discussed in Chapters II and III, the common practice of focussing on the contributions of individual historians has usually meant that individual historians have been held largely, if not entirely, responsible for them. Thus, if people in Livy’s history tend to conform to standard patterns of behaviour, that is primarily, if not only, because Livy himself has made them conform; he has done so for his own literary aims and purposes, and he has done so consciously throughout. If the story of the expulsion of the Tarquinii from Rome, for instance, contains episodes and ideas lifted from the tradition of the expulsion of the Pisistratids from Athens, or from other Greek narratives dealing with tyranny, that is only because someone like Fabius Pictor has consciously and deliberately incorporated those episodes into his narrative. Although individual historians obviously were responsible for such elements in the literary tradition, it is the thesis of this work that many of these elements are actually evidence of the way in which the Romans thought about human behaviour and about the past and the way in which events occur, and consequently about what constitutes a plausible explanation and a plausible narrative. These elements in the tradition, it will be suggested, are the result of perhaps widely held views and ideas, views and ideas which are, by modern standards, both deeply flawed and fundamentally unhistorical. If that is the case, then in many ways it matters much less 13

Cic. Brut. 43: qua re quoniam tibi ita quadrat omnia fuisse Themistocli paria et Coriolano, pateram quoque a me sumas licet, praebebo etiam hostiam, ut Coriolanus sit plane alter Themistocles.

Introduction

15

which individual was responsible for them; if not one historian, then some other would have incorporated such elements into the tradition. In sum, then, it is the aim of this work to try to show that the Romans often thought quite differently from the way in which people today think, and to show that these differences in thinking have had a significant effect on the literary tradition of Rome’s past. It is, consequently, not possible to talk blithely of ‘structural facts’, or to treat the literary tradition merely as an embellished, distorted and, in places, fabricated account of events simply because the very thinking that lies behind the creation of the entire literary tradition (all its supposed constituent parts, the historical cores, the structural facts, the rhetorical embellishment and whatever else, included) was different, and because allowances must first be made, in so far as they can, for these differences in thinking. Similarly, allowances must also be made for these differences in thinking in modern discussion of the aims, motives and intentions of individual Roman historians. Comparison can perhaps usefully be made with Roman republican portrait sculpture. This is often termed ‘veristic’ rather than ‘realistic’, as it does not provide an accurate or faithful reproduction of the physical appearance of the individual in question. Roman republican values, ideology and thinking drastically affected the manner in which the Romans depicted themselves.14 Precisely the same situation applies, mutatis mutandis, to the literary tradition.

14

See, for instance, the discussion in Gruen (1992) 152–82.

I. THE INFLUENCE OF NOBLE SELF-PRESENTATION ON HISTORICAL THOUGHT AND HISTORIOGRAPHy 1. INTRODUCTION The focus of this first chapter is the Roman gens, and in particular the behaviour of the members of a gens in the context of family traditions, and with respect to the behaviour and achievements of the ancestors. Gentiles (that is, the members of a gens) were expected (ideally, at least) to behave as their ancestors had, and were expected to hold similar views. Consequently they were expected to do and achieve similar things. As a result of these expectations certain patterns of behaviour came to be associated with specific gentes. So, perhaps inevitably, individuals from the past could, in turn, be supposed to have done similar things, and to have behaved in accordance with the relevant pattern; after all, if members of the same gens always behave similarly, then it would be logical to suppose that earlier members of a particular gens had also behaved in the same way. Before this important phenomenon and its influence on Roman historical thought are discussed any further, some brief consideration should be given first to what a gens actually was. Essentially a gens consisted of a group of individuals who claimed patrilineal descent from a common ancestor.1 By historical times, the ancestors from whom the members of various Roman gentes alleged descent appear to have mostly been, by modern standards, entirely fictional. Such, at least, is what the extant evidence would suggest. This may not be surprising, however, since in all likelihood the very notion that each gens had originated from one individual was itself a fiction (even if the Romans were not aware of this). Members of the gens Fabia, for instance, claimed that they were descended from a son of Hercules called Fabius (or something sufficiently similar to Fabius to allow for that name to be derived from it). Certain Calpurnii claimed descent from Calpus, a son of Numa Pompilius, Rome’s second king, while certain Aemilii claimed descent from Mamercus, who was supposedly a son of Pythagoras, and to whom the cognomen Aimilios had been given; and, most famously of all, certain Iulii claimed that they were the descendants of Iulus, the son of Aeneas.2 Perhaps not surprisingly, the real origin of these, and all

1 2

The discussion in this and the following paragraph simplifies a complex and difficult subject; on the definition and meaning of gens, cf. further Smith (2006) 13–20; succinct definition in Cornell (1995) 84. Fabius: Plut. Fab. 1.1; Calpus: Plut. Numa 21.1–2; Aimilios: Plut. Aem. 2.2; Paul. Fest. 22L (Aemylos); Iulus: e. g., Livy 1.3.2, and Ogilvie (1965) 42–43. ‘Certain’ members, because it cannot be assumed that every member of the gens made such claims, or that every member claimed descent from the same individual; hence, e. g., certain Aemilii (presumably) appear to have claimed that Aemylos was a grandson of Aeneas, Paul. Fest. 22L, others, that Mamercus,

18

I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography

the other gentes, and indeed the origins of the whole gentilicial system are simply unknown.3 Names like Fabius, Calpus, Aimilios and Iulus are obviously aetiological. This is because those gentiles who claimed descent from each of these eponymous Stammväter all shared a common nomen gentilicium, namely Fabius, Calpurnius, Aemilius and Iulius respectively. Each male member of the gens Fabia, for instance, was called Fabius, and each female member, Fabia. Different praenomina allowed for the individual male members to be distinguished from one another (a Fabius could be a Quintus, for example, or a Gaius) while different cognomina allowed, at a later date at least, when their use had become common, for the different branches of the gens to be distinguished from one another (so there were the Fabii Vibulani, the Fabii Maximi, the Fabii Buteones and so on), although the function of cognomina was certainly not restricted to this one use.4 It has of course long been observed that the individual members of a gens (or rather of certain gentes in particular) often tended to behave – or were often believed to have behaved, in the case of distant ancestors for whom no reliable evidence can have existed – in rather similar ways.5 Membership of the same gens alone, however, was not always a sufficient explanation, or justification, for this tendency. If an individual behaved, or intended to behave, in a manner akin to some specific ancestor in particular, a direct line of descent from that ancestor was sometimes necessary in order to justify this behaviour; and, if such a line of descent did not exist, or was open to challenge, then the invention of one was similarly necessary on occasion. But a direct line of descent was, it should be stressed, evidently not always so crucial. Circumstance and the nature of the action appear to have been important. Although a Roman noble might employ a number of different media (funeral speeches, inscriptions, coins and so on) to advertise his ancestry, and to advertise

3

4 5

like Calpus, was a son of Numa, Plut. Numa 21.1–2. On mythical genealogies, see, e. g., Wiseman (1974) 153–64; Hölkeskamp (1999); Smith (2006) 32–44; Farney (2007) passim. For a full and systematic discussion of the gentes, their origins, and related problems, see Smith (2006); for a different approach, see Kvium (2008). Note the attempts of Wikander (1993) 85–88 to trace various Roman gentes back to a single ancestor; none of the gentes Wikander considers would, on his calculations, be older than the sixth century, and a good many would have first appeared in that century. If anything, Wikander’s conclusions demonstrate the artificial and incomplete nature of the evidence, even if the gentes did develop at a later date than the Romans themselves supposed. Hölkeskamp (2004) 119. On the development of the system of tria nomina, see, e. g., Salway (1994) 124–28; on the development of the cognomen, see also Kajanto (1965) esp. 19–20. References to relevant work can be found throughout this chapter. The word gens is not consistently used in the ancient evidence in this context; Livy, for instance, sometimes uses familia (e. g., 2.56.7, 7.10.3), but, since the word gens is used on occasion (e. g., Livy 3.58.5, 31.48.12), it seems better to employ the more inclusive term here. The distinction between these two words (gens and familia) does not appear always to have been rigorous or systematic (cf. Hölkeskamp [2004] 118–19); a similar practice will be adopted here, if only for stylistic variation. It should be noted, however, that the meanings of the Latin word familia and the English word ‘family’ do not precisely coincide.

1. Introduction

19

the achievements of his ancestors, any claim that he may have actually behaved in a fashion akin to his ancestors is something which scholarship has in the past tended to associate first and foremost with literary historiography. In other words, if the individual members of a particular gens consistently appear in the literary tradition all behaving in a similar manner, this, it has quite often been supposed, is simply because some historian must have deliberately and consciously presented the various gentiles in this way.6 It is the purpose of this first chapter to suggest that this tendency to standardise the behaviour of gentiles, or of specific members of a particular gens, may not only, or even primarily, have been a literary and historiographical phenomenon. If it appears to have been one, that is only because the best and most explicit evidence for it is literary, and because, quite obviously, it was something which some historians chose to employ and develop for their own ends. When a Roman moneyer, for instance, advertised some famous exploit of an illustrious ancestor on the coins which he struck, was he simply celebrating the individual exploit itself, or was he also promoting some model of behaviour with which he was claiming a special affinity for himself and for his family? Was he even trying to suggest that he too, or perhaps one of his gentiles, would perform a similar deed, if given the opportunity? Naturally a coin on its own cannot provide answers to these questions, but there is good evidence which suggests that images on coins could be intended not simply to advertise past achievements, but also to make quite precise statements about family traditions as well as suggestions about possible future action.7 If that was the case with coins, then it almost certainly must have been the case with other media too.8 Another reasonably common, if unspoken, assumption, it would seem, is the idea that only the members of certain prominent gentes, and certain individuals in particular, were actually presented according to a standard pattern, and that consequently the effect that this phenomenon has had on the literary tradition is only minimal. Indeed the phenomenon is not infrequently ignored outside studies devoted to it and, although a more inclusive approach is taken from time to time, modern discussion of it often tends to focus on the Claudii, who were stereotypi6

7 8

E. g., Walsh (1961) 88: ‘Livy’s emphasis on specific moral attributes often causes his characters to lack individuality, to conform to definite types’; Alföldi (1965) 163: ‘[the] general attack against the Claudii is a literary invention’; Vasaly (1999) 513: ‘In Livy’s first pentad, people with the same names often act in the same way’; Vasaly (1987) 225–26; Oakley (1997) 98: ‘Such a consistent and rigid collective portrait can derive only from wilful distortions by the annalists’ (my emphasis); Oakley (2005) 357–58: ‘a major difficulty… is the tendency of writers in the Roman annalistic tradition to make members of the same family behave in the same way’, 361; cf. also, albeit in a different context, Kraus (1991) 314: ‘One of the techniques that Livy uses to give his voluminous history coherence is repetition’. See n. 11 below, and also nn. 68–70 on the origins of the tradition hostile to the patrician Claudii. Annalists may indeed have made ‘members of the same family behave in the same way’ (Oakley), but they (and note the plural) could only have done so if such a presentation was deemed plausible. Cf. the coins of M. Iunius Brutus discussed in section 2.1 below. Indeed, it was the case; cf. Gregory (1994) 89–93 for discussion and various examples, not all of which are immediately relevant in the present context; see also section 4 below. Note as well the practice of reviving early names, on which see Wikander (1993) 80–84 and section 4 below.

20

I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography

cally arrogant and opponents of the plebs, or on those several Decii Mures who devoted themselves in battle. It does so for a very good reason: the evidence here is absolutely unambiguous; but it does so at the risk of passing over other evidence, or of conveying the impression that the tendency to standardise behaviour was associated only or primarily with these and a few other specific examples. It is also the aim of this first chapter, but especially of the second, to argue that this phenomenon was far more widespread and far more pervasive (and, as a result, considerably more influential on the literary tradition) than is usually allowed. If this is not immediately apparent in the literary evidence, that may only be because some patterns of behaviour may not have been distinctive or unique (the model of the successful general, for example, or of the wise statesman would doubtless have been commonplace, and consequently is easily missed, or rather is usually undetectable); because some families were less influential, or were influential at times or in ways that did not require this sort of presentation (the rise of the office-holding nobility in the fourth century, most notably, must have represented something of a terminus post quem for the development of this phenomenon); because some families are not represented in the literary evidence in the same way or to the same extent as others; because the literary tradition has been rewritten and recast by successive generations of historians;9 because on occasion some record of what really happened may have got in the way;10 and so on. It is also remarkable that a phenomenon which is so extremely important, affecting as it potentially does the entire literary tradition of republican Rome, and of early and mid-republican Rome in particular, has received comparatively infrequent, often brief and generally rather one-sided treatment.11 Before all these and various other ideas are pursued further, it will be useful to discuss a few examples in detail first, to illustrate the phenomenon in question, and to establish some initial foundations on which subsequent discussion can build and to which subsequent discussion can easily refer. As will become clear, the examples chosen are different from each other in several respects. All three are, however, perfectly familiar territory and have been selected for that very reason.

9

10 11

See, e. g., Wiseman (1979) 99 on the presentation of the Claudii, less detectable in the later books of Livy, ‘where he had more varied sources to draw on’; Vasaly (1999) 529, although Vasaly supposes that Livy was himself responsible (as may have been the case) for the patterns which she discerns in the presentation of the Quinctii. Note too that some patterns of behaviour were such that the opportunity to behave in accordance with them was rare; cf. Lentano (2007) 133. E. g., Pais (1913) 178–79; Walsh (1961) 88–91, who focuses on Livy; Oakley (1997) 98–99; fuller discussion can be found in, e. g., Ducos (1987); Vasaly (1987), (1999); Bernard (2000) 167–96, but the focus in all four works is primarily on Livy; important general discussion can be found in Treggiari (2003); Walter (2003), (2004); Lentano (2007) passim, but note esp. 125–34, (2008), although not all of these works are concerned with the effect that this phenomenon has had on the literary tradition, or on Roman historical thought.

2. Models of behaviour

21

2. MODELS OF BEHAVIOUR 1. L. Iunius Brutus In the mid-first century BC, after some four hundred and fifty years of republican government, monarchy returned to Rome. In 44 C. Iulius Caesar was appointed dictator in perpetuity, and was thus made sole ruler of the state. The position was unconstitutional (traditionally a dictator was appointed for a specific purpose and could remain in office for no longer than six months) and it flew in the face of the republican ideals of power-sharing and collegiality. When one individual dominated the state, the ability of the nobles to compete for office, honour and prestige was inevitably retarded. No king could afford to tolerate a rival.12 Besides, monarchy and liberty were just incompatible.13 Rome had once, a long time previously, been ruled by kings. Her first had been her founder; and for two and a half centuries, monarchy had served the Roman state well. But all that changed when L. Tarquinius Superbus inherited the throne.14 According to the Romans, Superbus was an oppressive tyrant who abused his position. Prominent citizens were killed, while others were forced to toil on massive public works. The turning point came when Superbus’ son raped the virtuous Lucretia. A conspiracy was hatched, and the Tarquinii, away from Rome on campaign, were locked out of the city and forced into exile.15 The monarchy was quickly abolished and the republican constitution established. Two men would now lead the state; they would share power, and they would hold it only for a year. Never again would Romans suffer the abuses of a king.16 The instigator and leader of the conspiracy which had ousted Tarquinius Superbus was L. Iunius Brutus. His cognomen stood as a constant reminder of his cunning and of the role he played in the liberation of the Roman people. For Brutus had feigned stupidity (Brutus means ‘stupid’) and by doing so he had escaped Tarquinius’ suspicion. The dull and slow Brutus clearly constituted no threat or rival to the 12

13 14 15 16

Cf. Sall. Cat. 7.2: nam regibus boni quam mali suspectiores sunt semperque eis aliena virtus formidulosa est. When kings and tyrants rule, the tall poppies (i. e. the prominent citizens) must lose their heads: Livy 1.54.5–9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.56.1–4; Ovid Fast. 2.701–10; Zon. 7.10; cf. Hdt. 5.92.6 for the corresponding advice of Thrasybulus of Miletus. Note too the observations of Agrippa, Dio 49.4.2–4, and compare the fate of C. Cornelius Gallus who was appointed prefect of Egypt by Octavian, but whose self-promotion led to his recall and subsequent suicide. Cic. Flac. 25, Rep. 1.48, 2.43, 2.46, Brut. 53; Sall. Cat. 7.2–3; Livy 1.17.3, 1.48.9, 1.60.3, 2.1.1–3, 2.5.7, 2.15.3, 44.24.1; Val. Max. 5.8.1, etc. Cic. Rep. 1.62, 2.47, 2.52; Livy 2.1.2–3; for the idea that L. Tarquinius inherited the throne, see Livy 1.47.2–4, 1.48.2; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.29.2, 4.31.1–32.2, 4.37.3; note Poucet (2000) 254; Richardson (2008a) 630. Cic. Rep. 2.45–46; Livy 1.49–60; Dion. Hal. Ant Rom. 4.41–85, etc. Cf. Sall. Cat. 6.7; Livy 2.18.8; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.73.4; Plut. Publ. 1.4; Tac. Ann. 1.1; Flor. 1.9.2; Eutrop. 1.9.1; Wirszubski (1950) 22–23; Wiseman (1995) 103; Cornell (1995) 226; Richardson (2008) 328, (2008a).

22

I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography

king and consequently had been allowed to live, unlike the less astute members of his family.17 A good many years later, in the first century BC, there lived another Brutus, M. Iunius Brutus, a descendant, or so some claimed, of Rome’s great liberator; and, when monarchy returned to Rome, M. Brutus was expected to live up to his name and expel the new king. There was some additional pressure too, on account of his maternal ancestry. For M. Brutus’ mother, Servilia, was a descendant of Servilius Ahala, the man who had famously killed Sp. Maelius when the latter had sought to attain royal power at Rome.18 ‘If only you were alive now!’ was the provocative slogan inscribed on a statue of L. Brutus. Similar messages were left elsewhere, all intended to goad M. Brutus into action. Those who wrote them, Plutarch has Cassius tell Brutus, were demanding that he honour his lineage and bring about an end to Caesar’s tyranny.19 But Brutus was not simply a victim of circumstance and his own name. He fully appreciated the significance of his ancestry and had exploited it in the past. Ten years previously, when it had seemed as though tyranny might return to Rome, he had issued coins, on some of which he placed the busts of L. Brutus and Servilius Ahala, on others, the head of Libertas and L. Brutus as the first consul.20 At some stage too he commissioned T. Pomponius Atticus to research his lineage. In 45 Cicero saw the result, on proud display in the ‘Parthenon’, perhaps a room in Brutus’ house, or perhaps a building on one of his estates. There, clearly laid out, was M. Brutus’ ancestry, traced back not only to Lucius Brutus but also to Servilius Ahala.21 In 44 M. Brutus was urban praetor, and it appears that, in this capacity, he planned to show Accius’ Brutus (a play in which L. Brutus’ expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus was told) at the ludi Apollinares, for it was the task of the urban praetor to organise these games.22 The occasion may have had a special relevance. It was Apollo who had famously foretold to L. Brutus and two of Tarquinius Superbus’ sons that whoever should kiss his mother first would succeed the king and come to power. Only Lucius had correctly understood the prophecy: pretending to stumble, he had fallen to the ground and kissed the earth; and later, after Tarquinius had been 17 18 19 20

21 22

Cic. Brut. 53; Livy 1.56.7–8; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.68.2; Val. Max. 7.3.2; Plut. Publ. 3.4; Dio 2.11.10; De vir. ill. 10.1; Zon. 7.11. Cic. Phil. 2.26, 10.14, Brut. 331, Orat. 153; Plut. Brut. 1.5, Caes. 62.1; Crawford (1974) 455– 56, on no. 433, 2. Plut. Brut. 9.5–10.7 (10.6: para\ sou= de\ w9j o1flhma patriko\n th\n kata/lusin th=j turanni/doj a0paitou=ntaj), Caes. 62.4; Suet. Iul. 80.3; App. BC 2.112–13; Dio 44.12.1–3. Crawford (1974) 455–56, on no. 433, 1 and 2; Gotter (2000) 332; Welwei (2000) 53; Walter (2003) 273. On the influence of Brutus’ ancestry, see MacMullen (1966) 7–10; Flower (1996) 88–89; Gotter (2000) 330–33; Welwei (2000) 53–54; Walter (2003) 272–74; Lentano (2007) 127–34, (2008) 891–95; note also Bernard (2000) 183 on L. Brutus’ sons. Nepos, Att. 18.3; Cic. Att. 13.40.1. On Brutus’ Parthenon, see variously, Coulter (1940) 468; Balsdon (1958) 91; MacMullen (1966) 296 n. 7; Shackleton Bailey (1966) 388. For Brutus’ views on Caesar and monarchy, see, e. g., Cic. ad Brut. 1.16. Coulter (1940) 469–70; MacMullen (1966) 17; Weinstock (1971) 146–47; Nicolet (1980) 371– 72; Walter (2003) 272–73; cf. the discussion in Boes (1981); on Accius’ Brutus, cf. Gabba (1969); Dangel (2002) 15–17. See Cic. Att. 16.5.1.

2. Models of behaviour

23

forced out and the city liberated, L. Brutus did indeed come to power, for he was one of the first to be elected consul.23 In the end, however, Marcus’ plan to have Accius’ Brutus performed did not work out. By July, the month in which the ludi Apollinares took place, Marcus was no longer in the city. C. Antonius arranged for Accius’ Tereus to be performed instead, although that play, Cicero suggests, nonetheless provided sufficient occasion for Brutus’ supporters to make their views heard.24 Those who disapproved of M. Brutus’ role in the murder of Iulius Caesar claimed, Plutarch says, that Marcus cannot really have been a descendant of the L. Brutus who deposed Tarquinius. L. Brutus had executed his own sons when they conspired to restore the king, and he had no other children. Besides M. Brutus was descended from a plebeian, they said.25 Since the Iunii Bruti were plebeian, it is probable that a further element of this second argument can be found in Dionysius’ Roman Antiquities, for Dionysius states that L. Brutus was patrician.26 However this sort of opposition was evidently nothing new. One reply already existed. Sometime previously Posidonius had asserted that L. Brutus had, in addition to those sons which he put to death, another child, an infant. It was from this child that the subsequent Iunii Bruti were descended.27 Atticus had presumably employed the same solution, or something similar, in his work, and Cicero, who was glad to be rid of Caesar, was certainly keen to affirm in no uncertain terms that Marcus was indeed descended from Lucius. It clearly mattered that he was. The extent to which M. Brutus’ involvement in Caesar’s murder was justified seems to have depended, in some part at least, upon it.28

23 24 25 26

27

28

Cic. Brut. 53; Livy 1.56.5–12; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.69.2–4; Ovid Fast. 2.711–20; Val. Max. 7.3.2; Plin. HN 15.134; Dio 2.11.11–12; Serv. Aen. 3.96; De vir. ill. 10.2–3; note Wiseman (2003) 27–29. Cic. Att. 16.5.1, 16.2.3, Phil. 1.36, 2.31; although note App. BC 3.23–24, on which, cf. Flaig (2003) 241–42. Plut. Brut. 1.6. Dio 44.12.1 is presumably a little confused. Rawson (1986) 103; Mastrocinque (1988) 95–96; Welwei (2000) 54. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 5.18.1 (genea\n ou1te a1rrena katalipw\n ou1te qh/leian, w9j oi9 ta\ 9Rwmai/wn safe/stata e0chtako/tej gra/fousi, tekmh/ria polla\ me\n kai\ a1lla tou/tou fe/rontej, u9pe\r a3panta de/, o4 dusanti/lekto/n e0stin, o3ti tou= patriki/wn ge/nouj e0kei=noj h]n), 5.48.2. Hence this cannot stand as evidence that the Iunii were once patrician, or that there was once a patrician branch of the gens; see Richardson (2011). Plut. Brut. 1.7; Welwei (2000) 54; Lentano (2007) 128, (2008) 890–91. Accius too had presumably found a way around the story that L. Brutus had executed his sons; Münzer (1999) 446 n. 32. Posidonius may have followed Accius, or may have devised his solution himself; on invented genealogies and Hellenistic historians, note, e. g., Wiseman (1983) 450–52. Cic. Phil. 2.26: etenim si auctores ad liberandam patriam desiderarentur illis actoribus, Brutos ego impellerem, quorum uterque L. Bruti imaginem cotidie videret, alter etiam Ahalae?; Phil. 1.13, 10.14, also 3.8–11 and 4.7 on Decimus Brutus alone; and earlier De or. 2.225, Brut. 53, 331, Orat. 153 (Ahala), Tusc. 4.2, Att. 13.40.1. Note too Luc. 6.791–92. Cf. Lentano (2007) 127–34.

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I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography

2. P. Decius Mus In 340 BC, in the consulship of T. Manlius Torquatus and P. Decius Mus, the Romans went to war with the Latins. The first battle of the war took place near Veseris, in Campania. On the eve of the engagement, Livy reports, an apparition was said to have come separately to the two Roman consuls and to have informed them that one general and the army against which he fought were owed to the Manes and to Mother Earth. Victory would be guaranteed to that side which offered up its commander along with the legions of the enemy. The consuls conferred and agreed to make a sacrifice, to avert the anger of the gods, and so that the haruspices might examine the entrails. The entrails, however, only confirmed the apparition’s prophecy.29 Elsewhere, however, Livy seems to follow a different version of the story: the consuls sacrificed as was customary before the battle commenced; Manlius’ sacrifice was extremely successful, but the haruspex found an anomaly in the entrails of Decius’ victim: the liver’s head was cut on the pars familiaris, the part which applied to the performer of the sacrifice.30 The precise details of these stories do not matter. The very existence of the different versions is perhaps of greater significance. The variation suggests that this was an important episode, one which was variously and elaborately written up. Subsequent events, in any case, were certainly celebrated.31 For during the battle P. Decius Mus (who commanded the Roman left) carried out a devotio. He called M. Valerius, a pontifex, to his side, and Valerius directed him in the performance of the necessary rites. Under the pontifex’s instructions, Decius clad himself in a purplebordered toga, stood balanced on a spear, and made a prayer in which he dedicated himself, along with the Latin army, to the Manes and to Mother Earth. He then promptly rode into the enemy’s ranks, instilling fear wherever he went, until finally he was struck down and killed. His body, buried under a pile corpses, could not be found until the following day. The battle was not easily won, but Decius’ self-sacrifice had ensured that the Romans would be victorious.32 Almost half a century later, in 295, P. Decius Mus, the son of the Decius Mus who had devoted himself at Veseris, was elected consul for the fourth time. His colleague was the great Q. Fabius Rullianus, who was now holding his fifth consulship. Together with their armies, Decius and Fabius marched north, to Sentinum, and there they met in battle a combined force of Gauls and Samnites. According to some, there were Umbrians and Etruscans present too. During the course of the 29 30

31 32

Livy 8.6.9–13; cf. also Val. Max. 1.7.3; Plut. Par. min. 18; De vir. ill. 26.4–5; Zon. 7.26. Livy 8.9.1. Levene (1993) 220–21 supposes that Livy’s narrative simply progresses in stages; but the second sacrifice is inherently improbable, is largely unnecessary (it does not appear, for example, in Val. Max. 1.7.3), and is easily explained by the idea that Livy has related two different versions of, effectively, the same episode. There are no sacrifices at all in Zon. 7.26, nor in De vir. ill. 26.4–5, although both record the consuls’ dreams; there is a different dream entirely in Cic. Div. 1.51. The importance of the episode is also demonstrated by the very many references to it, for which see MRR I, 135. Livy 8.9.2–10.10.

2. Models of behaviour

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engagement, when he found himself deep behind enemy lines and in trouble, Decius (who was in command of the Roman left) knew what he had to do. He summoned the pontifex M. Livius, whom he had kept close at hand throughout the battle, and instructed him to guide him through the procedures required for a devotio. Then, when the rites – the very same which his father had performed at Veseris – had been completed, Decius rushed into the thick of the Gauls and was killed. Rome was victorious. Decius’ body could not be found until the following day.33 In 279 a third P. Decius Mus, the son according to Cicero and Zonaras of the Decius Mus who had devoted himself at Sentinum,34 was elected to the consulship. His colleague was P. Sulpicius. It was in this year that the Romans met King Pyrrhus of Epirus in battle at Ausculum. According to Dio and Zonaras, Decius had intended to perform a devotio during the battle, but was out-manoeuvred by Pyrrhus, who instructed his men to capture alive anyone clad in the distinctive garb of a devotus.35 According to Cicero, however, Decius was killed in the engagement; although Cicero does not explicitly say that Decius devoted himself, he clearly wanted his readers to conclude that he had.36 yet the idea that Decius did carry out a devotio is undermined by the fact that elsewhere Cicero speaks only of the devotiones of the father and the son, and makes no mention of the grandson (about whom Lucan, Pliny, Plutarch and Servius are similarly silent).37 The very idea that Decius died at Ausculum may not be entirely without difficulty. It has been argued, although on the basis of some rather difficult evidence, that a P. Decius Mus was made suffect consul in 265. The possibility that this Decius Mus was the same man who was consul in 279 has been entertained.38 If P. Decius Mus was alive and well in 265, then obviously he cannot have devoted himself in battle at Ausculum nearly fifteen years earlier. It is uncertain which, if any, of these episodes (or versions thereof, in the case of the third) are historical. It may be, for instance, that the earliest devotio, that which was said to have taken place at Veseris, was styled on a later, historical event, perhaps the devotio which allegedly took place in 295.39 The confused tradition of 33 34 35 36

37 38 39

Livy 10.28.6–18; further references in MRR I, 177; on the parallels between this devotio and the one performed at Veseris, see Oakley (2005a) 278. Cic. Tusc. 1.89, Fin. 2.61; Zon. 8.5. Dio fr. 40.43; Zon. 8.5. Cic. Tusc. 1.89: non cum Latinis decertans pater Decius, cum Etruscis filius, cum Pyrrho nepos se hostium telis obiecissent; Fin. 2.61: neque porro ex eo natus cum Pyrrho bellum gerens consul cecidisset in proelio seque e continenti genere tertiam victimam rei publicae praebuisset. Cic. Sest. 48, Paradoxa 1.12, Off. 3.16; Luc. 6.785; Plin. HN 28.12; Plut. Par. min. 18; Serv. Aen. 6.824. Cf. MRR I, 202 n. 2; Münzer (1901) 2285–86; more recently, Wiseman (1994) 46–47 appears to accept the equation of the two Decii. The only evidence for the supposed suffect consulship of 265 is De vir. ill. 36.2, on which see Fugmann (2004) 231–37. E. g., Münzer (1901) 2281. Forsythe (1994) 332 thinks that ‘the historicity of the second one [i. e. the devotio of 295]… is guaranteed by the report of the contemporary Greek historian Douris of Samos’. The matter is not so clear. Douris FGrH 76 fr. 56b calls Decius the colleague of Torquatus; but Torquatus was the colleague of the Decius who devoted himself in 340. As

26

I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography

events at Ausculum could very easily be the result of contamination: the death of the consul in battle may, in light of the tradition of events at Veseris and Sentinum, have been converted into an attempt to perform a devotio.40 On the other hand (but only if the literary tradition is worthy of such confidence, and it is most unlikely that it is), it may be that all three episodes are historical, and that the two subsequent Decii Mures sought to emulate the celebrated exploit of their ancestor. It is possible too that the third Decius Mus did indeed succeed in getting himself killed at Ausculum. However the idea that he performed a devotio would have inevitably been awkward. The Romans were not victorious at Ausculum. The unsuccessful outcome of the battle may, therefore, be the explanation for the confusion in the tradition.41 Regardless of how much, or how little, of all this is accepted as historical, the important point is that the ideas and expectations behind these three episodes are essentially identical: either all three Decii Mures did actually do the same thing, or perhaps tried to in the case of the third; or, if they did not all devote themselves, then they were at least believed to have done so, or to have tried. The idea that a Decius Mus should devote himself in battle, in the same way that a Iunius Brutus should oppose tyranny, was evidently quite firmly entrenched. 3. The patrician Claudii Attus Clausus was a migrant from the land of the Sabines. According to tradition he moved to Rome, took up residence there, changed his name to Appius Claudius and became a Roman. The more prevalent tradition claims that he did this in the early years of the republican period, but there was an alternative tradition in which he came to Rome when Romulus was king.42 Ap. Claudius’ family was enrolled amongst the patrician gentes after the move to Rome, and Appius throughout his career showed himself to be a staunch supporter of the patrician order and a fierce opponent of the plebeian cause. Thus, when consul for the first time in 495, and despite the promises of relief made to debtors by his colleague, P. Servilius, Appius took a hard line on debt. He did this, Livy says, both to undermine his colleague, and because of his innate arrogance, his insita superbia.43 Not surprisingly his activities engendered only the ire and opposition of the plebs, who subsequently refused to enlist when rumour of a Sabine at-

40 41 42 43

Forsythe notes, the tradition of the devotio in 340 was certainly established by Accius’ day; see also Dangel (2002) 239–42, 375–77. Beloch (1926) 373–74, 440–42, however, supposed that it was the attempted devotio at Ausculum which was the historical model for the earlier, unhistorical devotiones. Skutsch (1985) 354, with Cornell (1986) 248–49. For a thorough discussion of the whole subject, see Oakley (1998) 477–80; cf. also Walter (2004) 418–20; Bernard (2000) 176–77. Livy 2.16.4–5; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 5.40.3–5; Plut. Publ. 21.2–6, etc; variant tradition in Suet. Tib. 1.1 and elsewhere, see Wiseman (1979) 59–61. Livy 2.27.1, note also 2.23.15: Appius, vehementis ingenii vir; for Servilius’ conciliatory promises, see Livy 2.24.3–7.

2. Models of behaviour

27

tack reached the city. Appius ordered one of the instigators of this resistance to be arrested, and would have ignored the man’s subsequent appeal to the people had not the nobles persuaded him to do otherwise.44 Thereafter relations between the plebs and the senators deteriorated further, and the civil strife continued unabated into the following year. In order that the crisis might be brought to an end, Appius – severe in nature, says Livy, and made savage by his hatred of the plebs and the praises of the patres – proposed in the Senate that a dictator should be appointed. No one would oppose the will of a dictator, he said, for a dictator had the power to beat and behead, and the people had no right of appeal against his decisions. Many, Livy claims, thought Appius’ proposal both frightening and brutal (horrida et atrox).45 Finally, in his account of events which supposedly took place some years later (in 480), Livy has Appius assure the patres that potentially they could forever subvert the powers of the tribunes of the plebs by the simple expedient of persuading at least one of the tribunes to work with the consuls, and against his colleagues.46 This hostility towards the plebs was not unique to Ap. Claudius; in fact, Appius’ alleged behaviour was said to have been emulated by a good many of his descendants. Thus, for example, Livy introduces Appius’ son, who was also called Ap. Claudius, and who was consul in 471, as a man unpopular with, and hostile to, the plebs; and Livy has the tribune C. Laetorius denounce Appius and his family, which was, he said, the most arrogant and cruel (superbissima ac crudelissima) to the Roman people. Appius himself, Laetorius held, was an executioner appointed to harass and abuse the plebs.47 A heated encounter between the consul and the tribune soon followed in the Forum, but further conflict was precluded by Appius’ consular colleague, T. Quinctius, who managed to extricate Appius from the fray, and later by the senators who were able to silence him.48 Shortly afterwards Appius was sent into the field against the Volsci, and there his ferocity (saevitia) was given a freer reign. He exercised his command with severity; his soldiers responded with obstinacy and insubordination, of which the Volsci sought to take advantage, and they did so with success. After he had assembled his routed forces, Appius ordered many to be flogged and executed.49 In the following year he opposed the passing of an agrarian bill, and was later brought to trial, but before the matter could be concluded he fell ill and died.50

44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Livy 2.27.1–13. Livy 2.28.1–29.12; for Appius’ proposal, see 2.29.9–12; 2.29.9: Ap. Claudius, et natura immitis et efferatus hinc plebis odio, illinc patrum laudibus; 2.30.1: horrida et atrox… sententia. Livy 2.44.2–5. Livy 2.56.5–8; 2.56.5: invisum infestumque plebi; 2.56.7: familiaeque superbissimae ac crudelissimae in plebem Romanam; 2.56.8: carnificem ad vexandam et lacerandam plebem. Livy 2.56.10–57.4. Livy 2.58.4–59.11; 2.58.4: eadem in militia saevitia Appi quae domi esse, liberior quod sine tribuniciis vinculis erat; 2.58.5: odisse plebem plus quam paterno odio; 2.58.6: haec ira indignatioque ferocem animum ad vexandum saevo imperio exercitum stimulabat. Livy 2.61.1–9.

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In 451 Ap. Claudius51 was made decemvir, a position to which he was able to secure his reappointment for the following year. During his first term in office, Appius hid his true colours, Livy claims; during his second, however, he dispensed with the charade and revealed his genuine personality.52 To make matters worse, Livy says that Appius began to mould his colleagues after his own character. No longer now did the decemvirs conceal their pride (superbia). No longer now did they hold in turn the fasces, as the members of the first college had done in the previous year; instead they held them simultaneously, and thus appeared in the Forum like ten kings. At first all were afraid, but it soon became clear that the plebeians were the most imperilled, and they were treated both arbitrarily and cruelly (libidinose crudeliterque).53 Although the whole college of decemvirs had become oppressive in its rule, Appius was the most tyrannical of all its members. The tradition presents him as the stock tyrant, proud and lustful; and, just as with the Tarquinii, it was lust which brought about his downfall.54 Ap. Claudius Crassus was elected military tribune with consular power for 424. While his colleagues in office investigated a rumoured incursion by the Volsci, Appius – who, says Livy, hated both the tribunes and the plebs – remained in the city to secure the election of consuls for the following year, and thus hinder the efforts of the plebeians to get one of their number elected to the consular tribunate.55 A second Ap. Claudius Crassus was elected consular tribune for 403; like his namesake, he too remained in the city. He did so, Livy claims, in order that he might oppose the attempts of the tribunes to champion the welfare of the plebeians, who were at that time busy with the siege of Veii.56 This brief discussion of the behaviour of the patrician Claudii has so far been based entirely upon the evidence of Livy. It must be stressed, however, that this hostile presentation of them found in Livy (which is certainly not restricted to the few individuals and episodes discussed here) is not confined to him.57 It appears in a wide range of different sources, both sources that were independent of Livy’s 51 52 53 54

55 56 57

Ap. Claudius the decemvir is thought to be the same man as Ap. Claudius, cos. in 471, despite the tradition that the latter died in 470; see Wiseman (1979) 77; MRR I, 45. Livy 3.33.7, 3.36.1; secured his reappointment: Livy 3.35.3–10. Livy 3.36.1–7; on the treatment of the plebs, note also 3.37.1–8; on the corruption by Appius of his colleagues, Livy 3.41.8–9. See Livy 3.44.1–54.6 for the story of Verginia and the downfall of the decemvirs (see also Chapter III, section 6); Livy 3.56.1–57.6, 3.58.1–6 for the indictment and death of Appius (note 3.58.5: gentis Claudiae regnum in plebem sortitae); and 3.44.1 for comparison with the rape of Lucretia and the expulsion of the Tarquinii. On the presentation of Appius as a tyrant, see, e. g., Wiseman (1979) 80–81; Vasaly (1987) 217–21. Livy 4.35.4, 4.36.3–37.1; note 4.36.5: Ap. Claudium… ab incunabulis imbutum odio tribunorum plebisque. Livy 5.1.2, 5.2.13–7.1. See further Wiseman (1979) 57–103 for a full discussion of the evidence; note too Mommsen (1864) 287–318; Alföldi (1965) 159–64; Vasaly (1987); Bernard (2000) 183–84; Oakley (2005) 357–61, 665–69. No attempt has been made here to separate out all the different elements of the presentation of the Claudii; for a clear and systematic breakdown of the various elements, not all of which have been discussed here, see Oakley (2005) 358–60.

2. Models of behaviour

29

work, and sources that drew upon it. Perhaps not unexpectedly, the hostile presentation can be found in Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ Roman Antiquities. Thus Dionysius, like Livy, has Ap. Claudius, the consul of 495, adopt an uncompromising attitude towards debt and enlistment, and Dionysius describes Appius’ opinion on these matters as harsh and arrogant (au0sthra\ kai\ au0qa/dhj).58 Dionysius also introduces Ap. Claudius, the consul of 471, as an opponent of the plebs.59 He has him argue that the people should be kept in the field and busy with military operations so that they cannot cause trouble at home, and he gives Appius a lengthy speech in which he berates the plebs and denounces the powers of the tribunes, and consequently causes great offence.60 Like Livy, Dionysius has Appius clash with Laetorius in the Forum; he has Appius’ soldiers mutiny when on campaign against the Volsci; and he has Appius subsequently punish his men with great severity.61 Elements of the hostile presentation of the patrician Claudii can also be found in certain works of Cicero.62 They can be found too, for instance, in Valerius Maximus, in Florus and in the anonymous work, the De viris illustribus.63 Diodorus was evidently aware of the hostile presentation.64 Suetonius was also well acquainted with it,65 as was Tacitus: he describes Tiberius Nero as possessing the old, innate arrogance (insita superbia) of the Claudii.66 Not only, therefore, were the patrician Claudii quite consistently presented as arrogant and as vigorous opponents of the plebs, but this presentation of them was evidently widely adopted as well. To put it in general terms, not only was it claimed that numerous members of the same gens had consistently behaved in the same manner, generation after generation, it was also accepted that they had so behaved.67 It is one thing for someone to invent such a standardised presentation; it is another 58 59 60 61

62 63 64 65 66 67

Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 6.24.1–3; note too 6.26.3, 6.27.1 (Servilius called Appius au0sthro\n kai\ au0qa/dh kai\ tw=n paro/ntwn th=| po/lei kakw=n ai1tion), 6.29.1, 6.30.1–2. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.42.3 (pikro\n a1ndra kai\ miso/dhmon). Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.43.2, 9.44.1, 9.44.5–45.2; Appius’ speech was u9perh/fanon kai\ baru\n (9.44.5). Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.46.1–50.7; note, e. g., 9.47.2 (Laetorius addresses Ap. as w] misodhmo/tate kai\ turannikw/tate); 9.47.4 (skaio\n o1nta dia\ ge/noj kai\ pikro\n kai\ miso/dhmon kai\ to\ qhriw=dej u9po\ fu/sewj ou0de/pote e0chmerw=sai duna/menon). For a full discussion of Dionysius’ handling of the tradition, see esp. Wiseman (1979) 57–85; see Oakley (2005) 358 for references to all the pertinent sections of Dionysius’ work. Cic. Brut. 55, Nat. D. 2.7, Div. 2.20, 2.71. E. g., Val. Max. 1.1.17, 1.4.3, 6.1.2, 8.1.damn.4, 9.3.5, 9.3.6; Flor. 1.17.22.2, 1.17.24.2–3, 1.18.2.29; De vir. ill. 20.2, 21, 34. See Fugmann (1990), (1997) and (2004), who shows that the main source used by the author of the De vir. ill. was independent of the Livian tradition. Diod. 24.3; note esp.: kaqo/lou de\ dia\ th\n u9peroxh\n tou= ge/nouj kai\ th\n th=j oi0ki/aj do/can diefqarme/noj u9peroptiko\j h]n kai\ katefro/nei pa/ntwn; see also 20.36.1–6 on the censorship of Ap. Claudius Caecus. Suet. Tib. 2.1–4. Tac. Ann. 1.4.3: vetere atque insita Claudiae familiae superbia. Walsh (1961) 90 comments: ‘Livy omits to ask himself whether such consistent superbia is not too bad to be true’. However the same could be said of a good many others. The very failure to ask such questions (and not just about the Claudii) is in itself important evidence.

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thing for others simply to accept it. That is, unless behind both the invention and the acceptance there lies a similar attitude towards human behaviour, and especially towards human behaviour in the context of the gens and its traditions. These several examples (of the Iunii Bruti, the Decii Mures and the patrician Claudii) allow for two immediate and obvious conclusions to be drawn. Firstly, individuals could be expected to behave in a manner which was in keeping with the deeds of their ancestors, or with the deeds of one specific ancestor. Secondly, these examples demonstrate that others, people who did not belong to the gens in question, could claim, or more often simply accept, that certain members of the gens had behaved in a manner which was in keeping with the behaviour of their ancestors, or of some illustrious ancestor in particular. These other people are most often historians, but there is clearly no reason to believe that the making of such claims, or the acceptance of them, was restricted to historians. The difference is that the historians’ assumptions and claims have been preserved. The career of M. Brutus demonstrates quite clearly, however, that this is not simply a literary or historiographical phenomenon. The career of M. Brutus, and also the wide acceptance of this sort of presentation, suggest that this phenomenon was in fact due to something of a general mindset, an attitude towards the behaviour of gentiles, rather than merely due to some practice confined to those few individuals who composed historical works. This is an idea which needs to be pursued further. It has significant ramifications. 3. THINKING DIFFERENTLy 1. Modern approaches It is often supposed that the constant, generally uniform, and for the most part hostile presentation of the patrician Claudii was essentially the work of one individual historian. The supposition may at first sight seem to be a perfectly reasonable one, since all the evidence for the presentation is literary. Th. Mommsen suggested that the individual responsible may have been Licinius Macer.68 H. Peter, however, believed that it was Fabius Pictor, and Peter was ardently followed in this by A. Alföldi.69 T. P. Wiseman subsequently argued in favour of Valerius Antias, but further argued that, alongside the hostile presentation, there also exists an apologetic one, in which the Claudii are presented as wise conservatives rather than arrogant patricians. Wiseman attributed this apologetic interpretation to Q. Aelius Tubero.70 More recently, however, M. Humm has traced the origins of the hostile tradition not back to an individual historian, but rather to the pontifical records. He argues that Ap. 68 69

70

Mommsen (1864) 315–16. Peter (1914) xlviii–lii; Alföldi (1965) 154, 163–64; note as well Walsh (1961) 89–90 (‘probably to be attributed in part to Fabius Pictor’; although cf. 90, n. 1); Vasaly (1999) 526 on Ap. Claudius the decemvir (‘perhaps in the pages of Fabius Pictor’), although compare Vasaly (1987) 214, n. 32 where Alföldi’s (and Peter’s) argument is only noted in passing. Wiseman (1979) 113–39.

3. Thinking differently

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Claudius Caecus was the initial cause of this hostility towards his gens, for Caecus was said to have colluded with Cn. Flavius, who published the ius civile (hitherto kept secret by the pontifical college) and the Fasti, and he was also said to have opposed the passing of the lex Ogulnia, the law which opened up the pontifical college to the plebs. But Humm does not argue that the hostile tradition derived entirely from the pontifical records. He also argues for a subsequent process of development, in which others, especially Fabius Pictor, played a part.71 It may appear that there are certain difficulties involved in holding one individual annalist entirely or even largely responsible for the hostile presentation of the Claudii. After all, it would seem necessary to suppose that this individual’s work was so influential that the way in which one family was presented in it was adopted, and quite consistently so, not only by subsequent historians, but by various other people too. That is certainly not impossible, but it may seem unlikely. And it may seem especially so if it is further supposed that this presentation was something entirely new, something which, therefore, may have even been competing with an already established presentation. It may, consequently, seem far better to conclude that the tradition concerning the Claudii must have developed over some lengthy period of time, and that, if one individual work did have an important role to play in the development of that tradition, it was probably only because that work contained a systematic application of the various elements of the hostile presentation to most, if not all, of the members of the gens.72 If it all seems this way, that is only because, to the modern mind, the very idea that the individual members of a family should consistently behave in precisely the same way, generation after generation, seems simplistic, inevitably contrived and generally rather implausible, and because it has also been assumed that the Romans must have reacted to this idea in precisely the same way. Of course, the idea cannot simply be dismissed out of hand.73 It is well known that, for instance, certain patterns of behaviour may be repeated from one generation to the next (but usually only in the context of the nuclear family), and the extent to which a person’s character may be influenced by their genetic make-up, or by the way in which they were raised, remains a matter of debate. The Roman approach, however, is clearly something very different, and not just because much of the modern debate is based upon scientific advances which have only been made in comparatively recent times.74 As 71 72

73 74

Humm (2001) 76–96. Cf., e. g., Humm (2001) 76 on Wiseman’s thesis: ‘Même si l’on est prêt à accepter l’argument ex silentio pour abaisser la chronologie de l’œuvre de Valerius Antias, et même si celle-ci pouvait contenir une forte dimension anti-claudienne, comment admettre que celle-ci ait pu créer toute la tradition anti-claudienne de l’historiographie romaine entre 52 et 46 av. J.-C.?’; Cornell (1982) 205–6; Rich (2005) 141–42; and the discussion in Oakley (2005) 665–69. Oakley (1998) 132: ‘it is natural in all societies for children to wish to emulate the achievements of their ancestors and for others to compare them with their ancestors; but social conventions at Rome, where much of an aristocrat’s prestige was inherited, made this attitude very prominent’. Although ideas pertaining to both nature and nurture were, not unexpectedly, involved in ancient thinking; cf., for example, Treggiari (2003) 152–62; Walter (2004) 407–10; David (1992) 10–19; MacMullen (1966) 7–9.

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the career of M. Brutus shows, and as will be discussed in detail in the next section, Romans were expected, ideally, to behave like their parents and so consequently like their ancestors (since their parents should, according to this ideal, have behaved like their own parents before them, and so on). Romans were in fact expected to emulate their parents and their ancestors (who could of course, on these grounds, all be supposed to have behaved in the same way). This expectation, although it was an ideal, was evidently so ingrained in the Roman psyche that comparable behaviour could actually be taken as proof of legitimacy (this will be discussed below). According to this way of thinking, a son would behave like his father because he was his father’s son, and by behaving like his father, he proved that he was indeed his father’s son. It is worthwhile, therefore, giving some consideration to how a Roman mind might have reacted to the idea that the individual members of a gens might behave in a similar manner. Since the presentation of the Claudii appears in different sources, and so was evidently repeated and perpetuated; since there is no evidence to suggest that anyone really disapproved of this sort of thing; and since members of other families were similarly presented as behaving in a consistent manner, it seems perfectly reasonable to conclude that this repetition of behaviour may not have appeared at all artificial or unconvincing to the Romans. On the contrary, it would seem that it was in fact quite acceptable for the individual members of a family to be presented in such a standardised way. Indeed, it would seem that, not only was this sort of approach acceptable, but that it was even considered normal and right that the members of one family should behave, or could be supposed to have behaved, in a consistent fashion. Since the Romans expected that people would strive to emulate the deeds of their parents and ancestors, this is scarcely surprising. In addition to this, or perhaps as a consequence, the Roman mind actually appears to have been alert to such repeated patterns of behaviour.75 If all this is the case, then on the one hand the standardised presentation of the patrician Claudii need not have been simply, or entirely, a literary phenomenon, and that would, to a very large degree, rule out the need to hold one individual historian entirely responsible for it.76 On the other hand, if all the preceding is the case, then the evident willingness on the part of the Romans to accept the standardised presentation of the Claudii, as well as those of others gentes, could very well mean that

75 76

All these points will be pursued further below. There is some evidence which may suggest that the hostile presentation of the Claudii existed prior to the arrival of literary historiography at Rome: a fragment of Naevius’ Bellum Punicum (fr. 45M: superbiter contemptim conterit legiones), it has been argued, may contain a reference to Claudian superbia; the context of the fragment is, however, extremely uncertain; cf., e. g., Alföldi (1965) 164 (although Alföldi wrongly thinks that Naevius worked after Fabius Pictor); Gabba (2000) 28–29; Cornell (1982) 205; Humm (2001) 77–80; and Wiseman (1983a) 21–22, who questions the attribution. It is also possible that this fragment could refer to an historical instance of Claudian arrogance, i. e., the fragment could refer to an event which helped to shape the hostile presentation of the Claudii, rather than represent an example of that presentation (see below).

3. Thinking differently

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the way in which one family was presented in a single work could potentially alter the way in which that family was subsequently presented. 2. Ancient paradigms The career of M. Brutus, and the influence which the career of L. Brutus had upon it, have already been discussed. It is clear that M. Brutus played upon his ancestry and also came under pressure as a result of it. He was expected to emulate the behaviour of his most famous ancestor, and he lived up to that expectation. This is certainly not just some literary device or theme.77 As for the various stories concerning the Claudii and the Decii Mures, even if most of them are deemed to be unhistorical, that is simply unimportant, in the immediate context at least. Either the various individuals involved had actually behaved in a consistent manner, or it was just accepted that they had. Clearly this is not just an unhistorical approach to the past (although it is that) but it is also, before all else, a conception of behaviour, or rather a conception of how Romans should, and in some cases consequently did, behave. Obviously this conception is a construct, and one which may have had little real bearing on daily life, except on certain occasions or in self-conscious moments. Nevertheless it is a construct which clearly affected the ways in which the Romans thought about their behaviour, the ways in which they presented their achievements, and those of their ancestors, and, in turn, the ways in which they wrote about their achievements. It can be added at this point that the hostile presentation of the patrician Claudii is scarcely likely to be due to the Claudii themselves. The issue in this instance is not (as it may have been for the Decii Mures and unquestionably was for the Iunii Bruti) deliberate self-presentation, but rather the accepted notion that the members of a gens tend to behave, and so can be presented as behaving, in a similar manner. It is not necessary, therefore, to suppose that the hostile presentation of the Claudii is entirely a literary device or theme, or that it is entirely the product of some political agenda or family rivalry, as is often maintained. Instead, it may only be necessary to suppose that one or two memorable (or even just contemporary) acts performed by perhaps just a single member of the gens Claudia came to be treated as indicative of the way in which Claudii behave. Once the tradition of other, earlier members of the gens had been shaped or reshaped accordingly, the presentation would have quickly gained a life and momentum of its own, and as it did so, it would have become ever more plausible (to a Roman mind, at least). However, since the presentation of the early patrician Claudii is so strikingly uniform, it may be that the work of perhaps one individual historian did indeed contain a more comprehensive application of the various elements of the hostile presentation. Livy’s account of a debate which supposedly took place in the Senate in 200 BC provides some further evidence which is immediately relevant in this context. L. Furius Purpurio held the praetorship in that year, and he campaigned success77

Note too Plut. Cato min. 8.1–2 on the behaviour of Brutus’ contemporary, the younger Cato; Oakley (1998) 133; Walter (2004) 424. See also section 4 below.

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I. The influence of noble self-presentation on historical thought and historiography

fully against the Gauls. In doing so, however, he upset the consul C. Aurelius Cotta, to whom Italy had been allotted as his province. For Aurelius Cotta had arrived too late, and so had missed the campaign. Aware of Aurelius’ anger, and of his jealousy, Furius decided to return to Rome early, so that he could request a triumph in the consul’s absence. Since Furius had fought with another’s army, a debate in the Senate ensued. Livy sets forth the various arguments and opinions as he supposed them to have been. As he draws his account of the debate to a close, he has those in favour of allowing Furius to triumph claim that a certain destiny seemed to have given the Gallic wars to the gens Furia.78 The claim does not appear to add anything solid to the argument, and has every impression of simply being tacked on at the end, or of being made only in passing. It seems fairly safe to assume that it is probably Livy’s own contribution. To the modern reader of this section of Livy’s work the claim may seem a little unexpected, if not even confusing. The consul of the previous year, P. Aelius Paetus, had campaigned against the Gauls.79 C. Aurelius Cotta would have fought them in 200, had he moved faster; and even though he missed the main event, he still managed to conduct some operations against them.80 In 199 the praetor Cn. Baebius Tamphilus fought the Gauls, albeit unsuccessfully; he was replaced by the consul L. Cornelius Lentulus, who in the end achieved little as he was soon recalled to Rome to hold the elections.81 Sex. Aelius Paetus was consul in 198, and he received Italy as his province; although he achieved nothing memorable, or so Livy says, it was in Gaul that he failed to do anything worth remembering.82 Both consuls of 197, C. Cornelius Cethegus and Q. Minucius Rufus, also campaigned against the Gauls, and both did so successfully. Cornelius was rewarded with an official triumph, while Minucius had to settle for one on the Alban Mount.83 As for L. Furius Purpurio, he was consul in 196. In that year he again fought the Gauls, but so too did his colleague M. Claudius Marcellus, and Marcellus celebrated a triumph as a result of his successes.84 L. Valerius Flaccus campaigned against the Gauls in 195, although his colleague went to Spain.85 In the following year, as proconsul, Flaccus again engaged the Gauls in battle.86 Both consuls of 194, P. Cornelius Scipio and Ti. Sempronius Longus, fought the Gauls.87 L. Cornelius Merula, consul in 193, campaigned successfully against them, although he was refused a triumph.88 Then in 192 both consuls, L. Quinctius Flamininus and Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, re78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88

Livy 31.10–11.3, 31.21–22.3, 31.47.4–49.3; see 31.48.12: data fato etiam quodam Furiae genti Gallica bella. Livy 31.2.5–11. Livy 31.47.5. Livy 32.7.5–8. Livy 32.8.4, 32.26.1–3. Livy 32.28.8–9, 32.29.5–31, 33.22–23. Livy 33.25.10, 33.36.4–37.12. Livy 33.43.5, 34.22.1–3, 34.42.2. Livy 34.46.1. Livy 34.43.3–9, 34.46.4–48.1. Livy 34.55.6, 35.4–5, 35.6.8–10, 35.8.

3. Thinking differently

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ceived Italy as their province; Flamininus conducted operations against the Ligurians, and Ahenobarbus against the Boii.89 All these campaigns against the Gauls took place in a period of just ten years, and so the claim – made in the very context of this period of time – that the Gallic wars had been entrusted by fate to the Furii may, then, appear to be somewhat odd.90 Indeed, Livy’s statement seems to make no sense at all – according, that is, to modern standards and thinking. The claim is perfectly explicable, however, if it is placed not in the context of the events of these years, but rather if it is placed (as Livy naturally placed it) in the context of the traditions of the gens Furia. The most prominent and illustrious member of the family was M. Furius Camillus, the man who had, according to one version of the story, heroically intervened to rescue Rome, and the reputation of the Roman people, from the Gauls, who had captured the city and who were about to extract a humiliating ransom from the few remaining inhabitants. According to another version, Camillus defeated the Gauls after the ransom had been paid, but was still able to recover the Romans’ money.91 Camillus was said to have held a series of dictatorships and consular tribunates, and was said to have campaigned widely and with extraordinary success,92 but there can be little doubt that his rescue of the city from the Gauls was one of his most illustrious and defining achievements. Thus Livy has Camillus appointed to his fifth dictatorship (in 367) simply on account of a rumour of a Gallic invasion. As it happened, the rumour apparently turned out to be well founded; Camillus defeated the Gauls once again, and he was rewarded for this with another triumph.93 In addition to this, Livy has L. Furius Camillus, a son of M. Furius Camillus, take upon himself the direction of a campaign against the Gauls in 349. L. Camillus’ colleague, Ap. Claudius, had supposedly died in office, leaving Camillus in charge as sole consul. A dictator was not appointed, Livy claims, either on account of Camillus’ standing, or because his cognomen was a happy omen on the occasion of a Gallic invasion; and Livy says that Camillus assumed command against the Gauls himself, remembering his father’s virtus.94 89 90 91 92 93 94

Livy 35.20.1–7, 35.22.3–4, 35.40.2–4. Moreover, Briscoe (1973) 160, in his note on Livy 31.48.12, lists just three other Furii who campaigned against the Gauls. E. g., Livy 5.49.1–7; Diod. 14.117.5; further references in MRR I, 95; Ogilvie (1965) 736–37; for a fuller discussion of the tradition of the Gallic sack and the career of Camillus, see Chapter III, sections 2 and 3 in particular. See MRR I, 83–84, 85–86, 87–88, 89–90, 95, 97, 100–1, 102, 104, 112, 113 for details and references. Livy 6.42.4–8; further references in MRR I, 113; Oakley (1997) 716–17. Livy 7.25.10–12; 7.25.11: vel ob aliam dignationem haud subiciendam dictaturae vel ob omen faustum ad Gallicum tumultum cognominis; 7.25.12: memor paternae virtutis Gallicum sibi bellum extra sortem sumit. See Oakley (1998) 236; on the omen of Camillus’ cognomen, Oakley comments: ‘a notion that was pleasing to L[ivy], but one that was unlikely to have swayed the minds of any fourth-century Romans who doubted the competence of Camillus’; even though this detail in the tradition is unlikely to be historical, Oakley’s response seems a little too rational for a society that was prepared to allocate provinciae by lot; note also the election of Scipio Aemilianus as consul for 147 (for which, see section 4 below); see also Corbeill (1996) 72–73.

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Livy’s comment that Gallic wars were entrusted by fate to the Furii reveals, as does his story about L. Furius Camillus’ sole consulship, something of the way in which he at least thought about the actions of individuals. Certainly in the case of L. Furius Purpurio Livy does not appear to have given any consideration to the events of Purpurio’s own day, as a modern historian undoubtedly would.95 What mattered to him was rather the celebrated achievements of the most famous member of the gens Furia. That is to say, Livy interpreted the exploits of Furius Purpurio not in the context of the era in which Purpurio himself lived, but in the context of the achievements of Purpurio’s ancestors, or more precisely, in the context of the achievements of just one particular ancestor. There is, however, no reason to suppose that Livy’s approach was unique to the Furii, or that this approach was unique to Livy, or even to those Romans who composed historical works. The earlier discussions of M. Iunius Brutus, of the Decii Mures and of the patrician Claudii are enough to demonstrate this.96 As the brief summary above of the campaigns against the Gauls in the 190s shows, the Romans frequently went to war with these people. It is perhaps no surprise, therefore, that the Furii were not the only ones to have been associated with victory over the Gauls. Another hero of the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome was M. Manlius Capitolinus. It was he who, roused from his sleep by the noise of the agitated geese, had famously repulsed the Gauls from the Capitol hill.97 Nor was Capitolinus the only member of his gens to be associated so memorably with the Gauls. T. Manlius Torquatus was too; and, just as Manlius Capitolinus’ exploits against the Gauls on the Capitol had earned him his cognomen, so Manlius Torquatus’ exploits earned him his. For Titus had accepted a challenge, when no one else would, to fight in single combat with a Gaul. After he had killed the Gaul, Titus had stripped the torque from his defeated opponent’s body, which he had then donned himself. It was on account of this act that he was dubbed Torquatus.98 The aetiological nature of both these stories aside, the important point is, of course, that Manlius Torquatus, like Manlius Capitolinus, defeated a Gaul, and this is something to which Livy draws attention in his account of Torquatus’ exploit. Livy has Titus approach the dictator in charge of the Roman army to ask for permission to accept the Gaul’s challenge, so that, Livy has him say, he might show the Gaul that he was a member of that family which had thrown the Gauls from the Tarpeian 95 96 97 98

Compare Münzer (1910) 362, who finds in Purpurio’s campaign a doublet of the campaign of C. Cornelius Cethegus in 197, i. e. a repetition of a different kind, but one – most importantly – not confined to members of the same gens. See also the discussion in sections 4 and 5 below. E. g., Livy 5.47.2–8; on Capitolinus’ career, see variously Ogilvie (1965) 734–35; Wiseman (1979a); Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 63–75; Jaeger (1993); Kraus (1994) 146–218; Oakley (1997) 476–93, 515–68; Fugmann (2004) 50–67; Forsythe (2005) 259–62. Livy 7.9.6–10.13; further references in MRR I, 119; Oakley (1998) 113; for the possible family connections between Capitolinus (RE 51) and Torquatus (RE 57), see Münzer (1928) 1166; note Ogilvie (1965) 694. The torque was a badge used on the coins of several moneyers who were descended from the Manlii Torquati, see Crawford (1974) 308 on no. 295, 336–39 on no. 337, and 439 on no. 411.

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rock.99 This is certainly less direct than Livy’s explicit statement that fate seemed to have entrusted the Gallic wars to the Furii, but it nonetheless demonstrates once again that Livy was alert to repetitions of behaviour in the context of the family. But again, there is no reason to suppose that Livy was unique in this. Even less direct, but for that very reason important evidence, is a further allusion to the defeat of Gauls by the Manlii which Livy includes in a speech which he gives to Cn. Manlius Vulso, the consul of 189.100 Manlius Vulso campaigned against the Gauls of Asia Minor during his consulship, and in the speech, which he supposedly delivered near the territory of the Tolostobogii, Livy has him reassure his soldiers: not only have the Roman legions experienced the legions of the Gauls before, but Titus Manlius and Marcus Valerius have met them in single combat and have demonstrated that Roman virtus conquers Gallic fury; and M. Manlius, one man alone, threw the Gauls from the Capitol.101 In this instance Livy makes no attempt to draw attention explicitly to the repeated exploits of the Manlii, but that would scarcely suit his purpose. The speech is designed to encourage all the Roman soldiers, and so Livy very appropriately has Manlius Vulso emphasise Roman virtus, and has him go on to state that ‘our ancestors’ (maiores nostri) have defeated the Gauls.102 However the Manlian connection is nonetheless indisputably there: Livy could, after all, have had Manlius mention any number of different examples of Romans overcoming Gauls which did not involve the Manlii. Livy has instead left it up to his readers to notice the connection. Clearly it was safe for him to assume that they would. There may also be an allusion to Manlius Capitolinus’ career in Appian’s account of Manlius Vulso’s campaign. Appian has Vulso hurl Gauls from Mount Olympus in Mysia. In the same way, Capitolinus had hurled the Gauls from the Capitol, although he had himself also been thrown from that place after he had been found guilty of seeking royal power at Rome.103 Presumably Appian too could assume that his readers would notice the connection. 99 Livy 7.10.3: volo ego illi beluae ostendere… me ex ea familia ortum quae Gallorum agmen ex rupe Tarpeia deiecit, on which see Oakley (1998) 132–33; Lentano (2007) 122–23. 100 The speech is clearly pure invention, Livian or of one of his sources, pace Pais (1913) 179 n. 3 who comments: ‘L’esortazione che il console M. Manlio nella battaglia contro i Galli dell’Asia fa ai suoi soldati come discendente di Manlio Capitolino, anzichè da libera invenzione di Livio deriva probabilmente da un’orazione che questi ebbe sotto occhio…, la quale nella sostanza conteneva indicazioni storiche’. Livy 38.16 is a digression on the migration and settlement of the Gauls in Asia; in the speech (which immediately follows this digression; 38.17), Livy has Manlius Vulso argue (38.17.9–20) that the Gauls which the Romans are about to face were not born in their own land, and are consequently degenerate; i. e., there is a direct thematic link between the digression and the speech which comes straight after it. 101 Livy 38.17.8–9: non legionibus legiones eorum solum experti sumus, sed vir unus cum viro congrediendo T. Manlius, M. Valerius, quantum Gallicam rabiem vinceret Romana virtus docuerunt. iam M. Manlius unus agmine scandentes in Capitolium detrusit Gallos. 102 Livy 38.17.9: et illis maioribus nostris cum haud dubiis Gallis, in sua terra genitis, res erat. 103 App. Syr. 42 (katekrh/mnisen); the same verb is used by Diod. 14.116.7 in his account of Capitolinus’ exploit (although of the flight of the other Gauls down the Capitol); it is also used for Capitolinus’ death by Dio fr. 26.3.

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Roman nobles, men like M. Brutus, were expected to behave in certain ways. An inevitable corollary of this, it would seem, was that others were alert to, and so tended to notice, repeated patterns of behaviour amongst gentiles. Livy certainly drew attention to them (and even when they were not at all obvious – at least, that is, by modern standards), and it appears to have come quite naturally to him to do so. This can hardly be due to the fact that Livy was an historian; it is more likely to be due to the fact that Livy possessed a typical Roman mindset, and that he had also immersed himself in the Roman historical tradition. If that conclusion is correct, then it has some rather important implications for the nature of the literary tradition of Roman republican history, and for the assessment of the value of that tradition. To pick one obvious and yet extremely significant implication: as the stories told about the patrician Claudii, and almost certainly the stories told about the Decii Mures too, show, the invention of episodes in which individuals conformed to some family pattern was evidently an option, one available no doubt to the members of the gens in question, but one available also to others (including, most obviously or at least most visibly, historians). Naturally many Romans would have noticed these invented episodes (for the very reason that they were alert to such repetition of behaviour, and probably only for that reason), or they may have had their attention drawn to them, but it seems quite clear that they would not (since they did not) reject them, as a modern historian might, simply because, to their mind, such patterns were perfectly normal. After all, if a Roman expected that the members of a particular gens would have behaved in a particular way, he might well have noticed and even drawn attention to instances of such behaviour, but he would have been far less concerned to root them out as fictitious, not, that is, if those instances conformed with his expectations.104 4. HEIRS, ASPIRATIONS AND ExPECTATIONS If the tendency to assume that the individual members of a gens might behave in similar ways was a fairly commonplace way of thinking, as has been argued in the previous sections, then it may be useful to give some consideration to the origins of this tendency. As it happens, the likely origins are not at all difficult to find.105

104 Thus Cornell’s view that ‘the Roman annalists were not in a position to impose a fraudulent version of Rome’s history on their contemporaries and on succeeding generations of historians’ (see [2005] 49 and [1986a] 80, also [1982] 206) is problematic. On the subject of ‘doublets’, Oakley (1997) 103 asks: ‘Why not concoct gloria for one’s family in a different theatre of war? Or were the annalists so stupid that they regularly confused events fifteen or fifty years apart?’ If repetition of behaviour, and so often therefore of events was plausible to a Roman mind, then the presence of ‘doublets’ in the tradition becomes much easier to understand, and the devising of events in a different theatre of war would be less plausible (to a Roman mind) than the devising of them in the same theatre. 105 The relevant bibliography is immense; various important works are cited not just in this section but throughout the chapter.

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Every Roman was heir to the achievements of his ancestors and the traditions of his family. On no occasion was this made more explicit than at the funeral of a Roman noble. A Roman who had been elected to a curule office would have a wax mask (an imago) made of his face. After his death, this mask was proudly displayed in the atrium of the family house, along with those of his ancestors who had also attained curule office. Whenever a distinguished member of the family died, all these masks were taken down and were worn by actors who took part in the funeral procession, and who thus effectively resurrected the deceased’s ancestors. In the Forum, where the funeral procession culminated, the deceased’s son (ideally, although Polybius says that another relative would suffice if the deceased had no son, or if his son was not present) would give a speech in which he recounted the res gestae, the achievements, of all his ancestors represented on the stage.106 When not in use at a funeral, the imagines were, of course, always on conspicuous display in the atrium of the house.107 The achievements of his ancestors were evidently something which a Roman noble could readily exploit to his own advantage. They could, most notably, help him to secure election to office.108 Cicero observes that it was customary for newly elected magistrates, at their first contio, to give thanks to the people for electing them and also to give praise to their ancestors. While some are worthy of their ancestors, most, Cicero says, can only convey the impression that they owe so much to their ancestors that some of the debt remains to be paid by their descendants.109 In another speech, Cicero states that Calpurnius Piso owed his successful election to the busts of his ancestors, his imagines, with which he shared only a smoky com106 Polyb. 6.53–54 is the locus classicus; see Flower (1996) 91–127 on noble funerals and the role of the ancestors therein, and 128–58 on funeral and other speeches in which the ancestors played a part; cf. more recently, Flaig (2003) 49–98; also Walter (2003); Blösel (2003); Hölkeskamp (1996) 320–23, (2010) 112–15. Flower (1996) 115 suggests that the imagines may have ‘become somewhat standardised over time’; she goes on: ‘It seems plausible to think of ancestor masks in terms of a certain repertoire of characters, such as the wise old censor, the young warrior, the famous orator, or the learned judge’. 107 See Flower (1996) 185–222, esp. 220–21. The imagines themselves were not always visible, but the cupboards in which they were kept, along with the tituli below certainly were. 108 See Flower (1996) esp. 60–90 on the influence of ancestors on the electorate; Hölkeskamp (2000) 218, (2010) esp. 108–9; cf. also Treggiari (2003). The following discussion assumes that elections at Rome were highly competitive affairs, that campaigning was necessary, that the outcome of elections was not simply controlled (by, for instance, some supposed faction of nobles, through patronage, or by means of some agreement with the incumbent magistrates), and consequently could be uncertain in their outcome. On the nature of the Roman state, and the power of the electorate therein, and the nature and influence of the nobility (all of which obviously changed considerably during the history of the Republic; the primary focus here is inevitably on the period, long and complex in itself, after the development of an office-holding nobility, and above all on the period in which Rome’s republican historians flourished), cf., e. g., and variously, Brunt (1982); Hopkins (1983) 31–117; Millar (1984), (1986), (1989), (1998); North (1990), (1990a); yakobson (1992); Hölkeskamp (1993), (2000), (2010); Beck (2005) 22–28; all of which contain numerous references to further work. 109 Cic. Leg. agr. 2.1. On the custom, see also Cic. Fin. 2.74 and Suet. Tib. 32.1; Flower (1996) 18–19, 154–56.

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plexion. The people had elected Piso’s ancestors, Cicero states, not Piso himself.110 Cicero is, obviously enough, overstating the influence that Piso’s imagines had had on the electorate in order to make his point. Elsewhere he makes it quite clear that more was involved in securing election than family status, and that elections were unpredictable affairs.111 But the basic point nonetheless remains: noble ancestry could be of benefit at the polls. If it were not, Cicero’s comment about Piso simply would not work. The circumstances of the new man, the man without noble ancestors, stand in contrast to those of the noble.112 A new man could not, as a Calpurnius Piso could, rely upon the reputation of his ancestors. He had no ancestors about whose exploits he could boast, nor did he have any ancestral models that he could hold up (presumably with the promise, perhaps spoken or more likely merely understood, of emulation). The best a new man could manage was to lay claim to a spiritual ancestor, a celebrated hero of the past on whom he could style himself, but from whom he was not actually descended.113 Equally, a new man could criticise the nobles of his day and claim that he himself was in fact the true heir to their ancestors.114 On the other hand, he could just simply promote his own virtutes and res gestae. Thus Sallust has Marius claim that his military decorations and his scars are his imagines and his nobility (and note that military decorations and scars from wounds received in combat are evidence of behaviour).115 Similarly Cicero, who like Marius was also a new man, claims that, when the people elected him (in contrast to when they elected Piso), they were granting honour to him, not to his family; they were honouring his mores, not his maiores, his virtus, not his reputed nobilitas.116 And Cicero points out that he, after his election and at his first contio, cannot speak to the people about his ancestors, because they lacked the praise of, and the honours conferred by, the people.117 Later, in the same speech, Cicero notes that no ancestors made promises to the Roman people on his behalf; he gained the people’s trust himself. When he stood for 110 Cic. Pis. 1: obrepsisti ad honores errore hominum, commendatione fumosarum imaginum, quarum simile habes nihil praeter colorem; 2: nam tu cum quaestor es factus, etiam qui te numquam viderant, tamen illum honorem nomini mandabant tuo. aedilis es factus; Piso est a populo Romano factus, non iste Piso. praetura item maioribus delata est tuis. noti erant illi mortui, te vivum nondum noverat quisquam. Note too Cic. Verr. 2.5.180, Att. 4.8a.2; Asc. 23C: patrician birth has carried even idle men to high office. 111 See, e. g., Cic. Planc. 14–15; note Cic. Planc. 18: num dubitas igitur quin omnes qui favent nobilitati, qui id putant esse pulcherrimum, qui imaginibus, qui nominibus vestris ducuntur, te aedilem fecerint? equidem non dubito. sed si parum multi sunt qui nobilitatem ament, num ista est nostra culpa?; on which, cf. Paterson (1985) 28–29; also Cic. Planc. 59, on which, cf. Treggiari (2003) 146–47; see also the various works cited in n. 108 above. 112 See Wiseman (1971) 100–7. 113 Wiseman (1971) 107–9; Flower (1996) 150–51. See also David (1992). 114 Sall. Iug. 85.16, 85.22, 85.36–37, 85.41–43; cf. Wiseman (1971) 111–13; Flower (1996) 19, 21, 22–23, 64–64; Flaig (2003) 75–76; Walter (2003) 266–67; Blösel (2003) 70–71. 115 Sall. Iug. 85.29–30; note also 85.4–9, 85.13–14, 85.17–18, 85.24–25. Cf. the discussion in Leigh (1995). 116 Cic. Pis. 2. Cf. Wiseman (1971) 109–13. 117 Cic. Leg. agr. 2.1.

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office, no founders of his family recommended him. If he fails, Cicero says, he has no imagines which can intercede to help him.118 Cicero’s comments show quite clearly some of the uses which could be made of the imagines, and of the family traditions (the actual exploits as well as the reputed behaviour) which they evoked. The promoting of ancestral achievements in the effort to secure election to office would not have been at all influential on the voters, that is on the populus Romanus, had not the populus itself subscribed to some degree to the idea that individuals tended to behave in ways that were similar to their ancestors.119 There is however (in addition to the material discussed in the previous paragraphs) some quite direct evidence which shows that the people did in fact subscribe to this very idea. P. Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus was elected consul for 147; he was underage and had been standing only for the aedileship, but the people appointed him consul nonetheless. Although he was the biological son of Aemilius Paullus, Scipio Aemilianus had been adopted into the Cornelii Scipiones.120 He was, as a result, a Cornelius Scipio, and thus he shared the name and inherited the glory of the P. Cornelius Scipio (by adoption, his grandfather) who had defeated Hannibal at Zama and brought an end to the Second Punic War. Scipio Aemilianus was elected consul for 147, despite the legal impediments, precisely so that he could bring an end to the Third Punic War. It would appear that the people believed that a Cornelius Scipio was needed to conclude the current war with Carthage, since it had taken a Cornelius Scipio to conclude the previous one.121 Even if Aemilianus had to some degree engineered the event himself, as A. E. Astin suggests he might have done,122 he 118 Cic. Leg. agr. 2.100: nulli populo Romano pro me maiores mei spoponderunt; mihi creditum est… quem ad modum, cum petebam, nulli me vobis auctores generis mei commendarunt, sic, si quid deliquero, nullae sunt imagines quae me a vobis deprecentur; see also Sall. Iug. 85.4. 119 Treggiari (2003) 139–40: ‘Nobility, descent from high office-holders, was precisely ‘known virtue’, cognita uirtus… The voters were supposed to think they knew something about a man already: he would be like his ancestors, of whose deeds they were aware or likely to be reminded’; Flower (1996) 22: ‘[The imagines] serve as pledges to win the voters’ confidence in future results. The deeds of the ancestors are, it is implied, to be repeated by their descendants’; Farney (2007) 20–22. 120 Aemilianus did, however, still seek to emulate the deeds of his biological father, as Astin (1967) 76 shows; Farney (2007) 112–13. On adoption and ancestors, see Flower (1996) 103, who draws attention to Sen. Con. 2.1.17: adoption mixed families, and brought the imagines of one family into another (Fabriciorum imagines Metellis patuerunt; Aemiliorum et Scipionum familias adoptio miscuit). 121 See esp. App. Pun. 104, 109, 112; Vell. Pat. 1.12.3; Flor. 1.31.12; Eutrop. 4.12.1; Zon. 9.29; note Val. Max. 8.15.4: eidem senatus bis sine sorte provinciam, prius Africam, deinde Hispaniam dedit (although it was the people who gave Africa to Scipio, according to App. Pun. 112); further references to Scipio’s election in MRR I, 462; note also Livy 26.41.24–25 on the Scipiones in Spain. Cf. Lentano (2007) 126–27. For a further, if slightly different example, see Livy 5.18.1–6: the people elected P. Licinius after his father, for whom the people had been voting, introduced his son as the effigies atque imago of the Licinius who was first among the plebs to be elected consular tribune; Walter (2004) 408–9. 122 Astin (1967) 64, 69. This is not to say that he engineered his own election, but rather that Scipio Aemilianus himself may have helped to promote the idea that a Scipio was needed to defeat Carthage.

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could not so readily have done so, had the people not believed that he would repeat his grandfather’s exploits. The association of the Cornelii Scipiones with successful campaigning in Africa must have been reinforced considerably by Scipio Aemilianus’ destruction of Carthage in 146. Certainly the association endured. In the first century BC, during the Civil War, the Pompeian forces in Africa were placed under the command of Q. Caecilius Metellus Scipio. Metellus Scipio had been adopted by Q. Caecilius Metellus, but he was the biological son of P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica. For some, this was a good omen. Indeed, rumour of a prophecy circulated: the Scipiones could not be defeated in Africa. To counter the effects of this, Iulius Caesar enlisted in his army a Scipio of his own.123 Not only had the belief that a Scipio was needed to defeat Carthage prompted the Roman people to elevate Scipio Aemilianus to an early consulship, it also affected the morale of the soldiers stationed in Africa a century later. Family tradition was not just something which could be exploited for personal prestige and political advancement however. It was also something which had to be maintained. A Roman was expected to live up to, and ideally to improve upon, the achievements of his ancestors.124 While this expectation in itself need not automatically imply that he had to imitate his ancestors, it is nevertheless quite evident that imitation was in fact precisely what was required of him. In order to maintain the family’s status the heir to the family had, ideally, to emulate the deeds of his ancestors, and those of his father in particular.125 As Cicero says in his De officiis, those whose fathers or ancestors have achieved glory in some way or another generally seek to excel in the same field. Cicero illustrates this with two examples: Q. Mucius Scaevola, the son of the jurist P. Mucius Scaevola, sought glory in the law, and Scipio Aemilianus (Cicero calls him Africanus), the son of Aemilius Paullus, who had triumphed twice and had thrice been hailed imperator, in military endeavour.126 Cicero uses the example of Scipio Aemilianus a second time in his speech in defence of C. Rabirius Postumus, but on this occasion he adds to it the example of 123 Plut. Caes. 52.2–3, Cato min. 57.3; Suet. Iul. 59; Dio 42.57.5–58.1; also Hor. Carm. 2.1.27–28; Luc. 6.788–89; Sen. Ep. 71.10, 24.9–10. Pais (1913) 179; Weinstock (1971) 97–98, 269; Crawford (1974) 738; Lentano (2007) 127. 124 Cf., for example, Cic. Off. 1.121: optima autem hereditas a patribus traditur liberis omnique patrimonio praestantior gloria virtutis rerumque gestarum, cui dedecori esse nefas et vitium iudicandum est; cf. also, e. g., Cic. Flac. 25, Phil. 3.25, Planc. 51, Sull. 88; Sall. Iug. 4.5–6; Livy 6.6.13, 30.45.7; Plin. Ep. 5.17.6, 8.10.3; and Plaut. Trin. 641–59; Val. Max. 3.5; see Treggiari (2003) passim, Lentano (2007) 193–214 and (2008) 884–90, Hölkeskamp (2010) 121–23 on those who failed to live up to their family’s reputation, and on degeneration in general. Women too were expected to maintain the family’s reputation and standards, see Cic. Cael. 33–34. 125 On the emulation of ancestors, see, e. g., Treggiari (2003) passim, but esp. 155–57; Flower (1996) passim, see, e. g., 22, 221; Lentano (2007) passim; Oakley (2005a) 550–51; see also the various works cited n. 149 below. 126 Cic. Off. 1.116: quorum vero patres aut maiores aliqua gloria praestiterunt, ii student plerumque eodem in genere laudis excellere, ut Q. Mucius P. f. in iure civili, Pauli filius Africanus in re militari. On Paullus, see Flower (1996) 72–73.

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P. Decius, the consul of 340 who was imitated by his son. In this work Cicero also states once again, and more emphatically, that the members of a family which has won glory in a particular field strive to attain glory in that same field.127 In the De officiis Cicero claims that his son Marcus will inherit his father’s glory, as well as the duty to imitate his deeds.128 Elsewhere in the same work, he asserts that the maiores are to be imitated, although not their faults, and not if a descendant’s nature does not allow for it.129 At a much earlier date, in the second century BC, Cn. Cornelius Scipio Hispanus had declared in his elogium not only that he had added to the virtutes of his family, left offspring, maintained the praise of his ancestors, and that his honour had ennobled his stock, but that he had also aspired to the deeds of his father.130 Scipio Hispanus had not managed to reach the consulship; since he presumably could not boast of any military exploits, he had to make do with a simple assertion that he had achieved what was expected of him. According to Valerius Maximus, T. Manlius Torquatus supposed that the wax masks of the ancestors, along with the inscriptions which accompanied them, were placed in the atrium of the house not only so that descendants could read about their ancestors’ virtutes, but so that they could imitate them too.131 This thought, Valerius says, occurred to T. Manlius as he sat in the atrium in which was placed the imago of Manlius Torquatus Imperiosus. Torquatus Imperiosus had famously executed his own son for insubordination,132 while T. Manlius Torquatus ordered his from his sight on account of the corrupt manner in which he had governed Macedonia; T. Manlius’ son subsequently hanged himself, but Manlius did not attend the funer-

127 Cic. Rab. Post. 1.2: cum sit hoc generi hominum prope natura datum ut, si qua in familia laus aliqua forte floruerit, hanc fere qui sint eius stirpis, quod sermone hominum ac memoria patrum virtutes celebrantur, cupidissime persequantur, si quidem non modo in gloria rei militaris Paulum Scipio ac Maximus filii, sed etiam in devotione vitae et in ipso genere mortis imitatus est P. Decium filius. 128 Cic. Off. 1.78: licet enim mihi, M. fili, apud te gloriari, ad quem et hereditas huius gloriae et factorum imitatio pertinet. 129 Cic. Off. 1.121: sed quoniam paulo ante dictum est [cf. 1.116, 1.118: plerumque autem parentium praeceptis imbuti ad eorum consuetudinem moremque deducimur] imitandos esse maiores, primum illud exceptum sit, ne vitia sint imitanda, deinde si natura non feret, ut quaedam imitari possit; but note that Cicero also says (Q Rosc. 30) that good sons could not come from bad fathers. Even if strict imitation is, for some reason, not possible, it is still necessary to display qualities such as justice, good faith, generosity, humility and moderation (Off. 1.121); it is always possible therefore simply to act in accordance with the qualities of ancestors: cf. Cic. Phil. 10.25, 13.50. 130 ILLRP 316: virtutes generis mieis moribus accumulavi,/ progeniem genui, facta patris petiei./ maiorum optenui laudem ut sibei me esse creatum/ laetentur; stirpem nobilitavit honor. Note Lentano (2007) 163. 131 Val. Max. 5.8.3: effigies maiorum suorum cum titulis suis idcirco in prima parte aedium poni solere ut eorum virtutes posteri non solum legerent sed etiam imitarentur. 132 References in MRR I, 135–36; see also Oakley (1998) 436–39; Bettini (1991) 6–9; Bernard (2000) 179–81; Walter (2004) 420–23; Lentano (2007) 121–25, 194–96, (2008) 886–88; Feeney (2010).

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al.133 Torquatus Imperiosus’ son, it is worth adding, had engaged a Latin in single combat, in emulation of his father, for his father was the same Torquatus who had defeated a Gaul in single combat.134 He fought the Latin, however, contrary to the explicit orders of his father and it was for this violation that he was punished. In his Second Philippic, Cicero defends himself from the charge of having instigated Caesar’s murder. Quite apart from the fact that his name does not appear amongst those of the conspirators, Cicero asks if the Bruti, M. Iunius Brutus and D. Iunius Brutus Albinus, would have really needed his prompting. Both would have seen the imago of L. Brutus every day, and M. Iunius Brutus would have seen Servilius Ahala’s too. Similarly C. Cassius would not have needed Cicero’s encouragement to do away with Caesar, born as he was into a family which could not endure tyranny.135 The comment is a reference to the Sp. Cassius who was said to have executed his own son for attempting to obtain royal power at Rome.136 Cicero then goes on to mention the two Servilii Cascae, and asks if he should call them Cascae or Ahalae (for the two shared the same nomen as Servilius Ahala, and thus belonged to the same gens).137 Cicero’s argument in all three cases depends entirely upon the notion that Romans had to live up to the traditions of their families, and that, in order to do so, they had to emulate the achievements of their ancestors. As these various examples also show, just as a Roman was expected to emulate the deeds of his ancestors, so too could he refer to his ancestors’ actions in order to justify or explain his own (or someone else could, in the case of Cicero in the previous paragraph). It was partly for this reason that M. Brutus’ ancestry became such a topic of debate.138 T. Manlius Torquatus justified his treatment of his son and his failure to attend his son’s funeral with reference to the example of Torquatus Imperiosus, or so Valerius implies. In Plautus’ Persa the parasite Saturio announces that he preserves, maintains and cultivates with great care the old and venerable occupation of his ancestors, for there was not one of his ancestors who did not fill his stomach by being a parasite. For generations his ancestors ate other people’s food, and it is from his ancestors that Saturio has gained his profession.139 At a much later date, the emperor Claudius, according to Suetonius, justified his decision to make a freedman’s son a senator by declaring that Ap. Claudius Caecus, the founder of his 133 Val. Max. 5.8.3; Cic. Fin. 1.24 (note that, in the previous chapter, i. e. Fin. 1.23, Cicero discusses Torquatus Imperiosus and the two deeds for which he was famous, the defeat of the Gaul and the punishment of his son); Flaig (2003) 78–81. 134 Livy 8.7.13: ‘ut me omnes’ inquit [Manlius], ‘pater, tuo sanguine ortum vere ferrent, provocatus equestria haec spolia capta ex hoste caeso porto’, on which see Lentano (2007) 123–24; Zon. 7.26. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.79.2 may have known a version in which Torquatus’ son fought a Gaul like his father, rather than a Latin, that is, unless Dionysius has conflated the exploits of Torquatus’ son with the single combat of Torquatus himself. 135 Cic. Phil. 2.25–26. 136 References in MRR I, 20, 22; Ogilvie (1965) 337–39; cf. Pais (1913) 178–79. 137 Cic. Phil. 2.27. 138 See section 2.1 above on the controversy surrounding M. Brutus’ claims to be descended from L. Brutus. 139 Plaut. Pers. 53–61, on which, cf. Walter (2003) 262; Lentano (2007) 179.

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family, had himself enrolled sons of freedmen into the Senate.140 So great was the expectation that a Roman should emulate the deeds of his ancestors that it could evidently be used to justify actions in the present. The discussion so far in this section may suggest that the practice of emulating the deeds of ancestors, and the idea that gentiles tended to behave in similar ways, were purely (self-)conscious things. It has, however, already been argued in the previous section that what was often involved was a manner of thinking, a mindset. The purpose of this section is merely to trace the likely origins of this mindset. But to that earlier argument, a further point can be added here. Since Romans were expected to emulate their ancestors, and since that expectation had engendered a mindset, or was at least intimately connected with one, similar behaviour, it seems, could actually be taken as proof of legitimacy.141 This demonstrates, and very clearly so, that the idea that Romans should emulate their ancestors was not entirely, or not even, a conscious thing. In Plautus’ Truculentus, for instance, the soldier Stratophanes has been falsely led to believe that the meretrix Phronesium is pregnant with his child. As soon as he returns to Athens he asks Astaphium, Phronesium’s servant, if the baby has been born and, learning that it has, inquires if it takes after him. Astaphium, in order to fool Stratophanes into believing that the baby really is his, replies that, when it was born, the baby demanded a sword and a shield. Stratophanes is convinced: the baby must be his.142 One of the tactics employed by those who sought to provoke M. Brutus into taking action against Caesar was to question his legitimacy. He was not really a Brutus, they said.143 The implication, naturally, was that a real Brutus, a true descendant of L. Iunius Brutus, would not have tolerated Caesar’s rule and would 140 Suet. Claud. 24.1; see also Ryan (1993). 141 See Lentano (2007) to which the present discussion is heavily indebted; connected with this is the idea that character and qualities were inherited as well, cf. also Corbeill (1996) 76–78; Treggiari (2003) 152–57; Bernstein (2003). It is almost certainly in this general context that the success of those individuals who falsely claimed to be descended from prominent statesmen, individuals such as Ps.-Gracchus (for whom, cf. Lea Beness and Hillard [1990], with further discussion and detailed references) and Ps.-Marius (for whom, cf. Meijer [1986]), can be understood. Meijer (1986) 119 asks: ‘If this Marius was indeed an impostor, it is puzzling that he found such response in and outside Rome. To what could Marius have owed this authority? To the mere pretence of being the grandson of the great Marius? This seems highly unlikely in view of the fact that the prominent figures in Roman politics unanimously attempted to ruin him’, and goes on to argue (120): ‘If… we assume that Marius was indeed a grandson of the renowned general, then Valerius Maximus’ remark that the veterans, many citizens of Italic towns, and most members of the collegia committed themselves to Marius as patronus is brought out in full relief’. This is, however, to impose modern standards and expectations on antiquity; the behaviour of Ps.-Marius alone may have made his case a persuasive one; cf. David (1992) 16–17. 142 Plaut. Truc. 504–507: Strat. scio. sed peperitne, opsecro, Phronesium?/ As. peperit puerum nimium lepidum. Strat. ehem, ecquid mei similest? As. rogas?/ quin ubi natust machaeram et clupeum poscebat sibi?/ Strat. meus est, scio iam de argumentis. Note also 522: [Strat.] filium peperisti, qui aedis spoliis opplebit tuas. See Lentano (2007) 113–16 (with further examples). 143 Plut. Brut. 9.7: ou0k ei] Brou=toj a0lhqw=j; Plut. Caes. 62.4; App. BC 2.112: ou0d’ e1kgonoj ei] su\ tou=de; Dio 44.12.3. For further details, see the discussion above in section 2.1.

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have brought an end to it. Suetonius claims that nothing convinced Caligula more that Iulia Drusilla was his own daughter than her savagery, for she tried to scratch the faces and the eyes of the children who played with her.144 Obviously Caligula was himself a cruel and violent man. Suetonius also preserves a verse that was composed about Nero, whose ancestry was supposed to go back to Aeneas. ‘Who can deny’, the verse ran, ‘that Nero was descended from Aeneas? One did away with (sustulit) his mother, the other carried away (sustulit) his father’.145 Aeneas had carried his father from Troy; Nero killed his mother. Along with the pun on the verb sustulit – which, most importantly, serves to transform the very different deeds of Aeneas and Nero into the same deed – the verse relied upon the understood idea that behaviour comparable with an ancestor’s was proof of descent from that ancestor. This line of argumentation is, chronologically speaking, a two way thing. If a son should behave like his father because he is his father’s son, then equally a father should behave like his own father before him, because he is his son. Perhaps also relevant in this context is the Roman practice of giving to first-born sons the same name as their father, and to subsequent sons a name that usually differed only with respect to the praenomen (and the range of praenomina employed by most families was, furthermore, extremely restricted). Not only, according to this ideology, did a son behave like his father, he often had precisely the same name too. The result is that many families must have acquired almost a static quality, something which would undoubtedly have been useful for wooing voters, and which would undoubtedly have been useful too for appeals to the mos maiorum. This may, in turn, shed some light on the Roman practice of banning the use of names in particular families. After M. Manlius Capitolinus was condemned to death (in 385 or 384 BC), his gens resolved that henceforth no one was to be called Marcus Manlius.146 Consequently, in the future, there would be no M. Manlius, and so there could be no M. Manlius to emulate Capitolinus’ deeds. The gens Manlia removed the bad apple before it could spoil the whole bunch. At a considerably later date, in the early first century AD, when Scribonius Libo Drusus was condemned for maiestas, his family was forbidden to use the cognomen Drusus. Libo’s family was also banned from displaying his imago at family funerals. Henceforth there would be no Scribonius Libo Drusus, and henceforth no imago visible at funerals to inspire others to emulate Libo’s actions.147 Banning the name and restricting the use of the imago of 144 Suet. Calig. 25.4. See Lentano (2007) 116–17. 145 Suet. Nero 39.2. See Lentano (2007) 117–18. 146 Livy 6.20.14; Oakley (1997) 567 with further references and examples; Kraus (1994) 217. On the date, see MRR I, 101–2. 147 Tac. Ann. 2.32.1. Cf. also the fate of Cn. Calpurnius Piso; see the discussion in Flower (1996) 23–31 and Cooley (1998) 199–207; the Senate instructed Piso’s son to change his praenomen; in doing so, the Senate had two aims, Cooley (206) says, ‘One is to abolish all memory of Piso pater, and the other is to encourage his sons to adopt a pattern of behaviour completely different from that of their father’. On imagines as sources of inspiration, cf. Gregory (1994) 90–92 (with further examples); Lentano (2008); and, most famously, Polyb. 6.53.9–10; Sall. Iug. 4.5–6. Note, in this context, Cicero’s advice to Paetus, Cic. Fam. 9.21.2–3.

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someone found guilty of treason would have been wise precautions for an emperor to take. Similar precautions were said to have been taken a long time previously by the Roman people, shortly after the expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus and the establishment of the republican regime: the consul L. Tarquinius Collatinus was, according to some versions of the story, sent into exile simply on account of his name, for the name Tarquinius had become synonymous with monarchy.148 Inevitably Tarquinius Collatinus would have constituted a threat to the Romans’ newly won liberty, and so he had to be removed. If generally accepted ideology and thinking maintained that a Roman son behaved like his father (who, in turn, had behaved like his father before him, and so on back through the family tree), it becomes very easy to understand how the Romans could have come to expect that members of the same family might tend to behave in the same way. Not only, therefore, did all these ideas about the emulation of ancestral deeds and the confirmation of legitimacy which that emulation provided affect the ways in which people were expected to behave, and the ways in which they did behave from time to time, but they would, in turn, have inevitably and quite naturally also affected the ways in which people were believed to have behaved in the past. The potential consequences of this on the literary tradition are obvious. Any annalist who wished to write more expansively about Rome’s past, or who wished simply to fill in gaps in the tradition, could quite easily and plausibly have fleshed out or developed his narrative by the simple expedient of supposing that early members of various gentes had behaved in the same manner as later or even contemporary members,149 and, as was argued at the end of the previous section, no one would have been concerned to excise the results of such an approach, if they conformed with everyone’s expectations. 5. GENERAL CLAIMS The fact that the Furii and the Manlii (as discussed in section 3.2 above) were both associated with the Gauls is significant. It shows that similar models could be employed by more than one gens, or could be applied to more than one gens. Just as 148 Cic. Rep. 2.53, Brut. 53, Off. 3.40; Livy 2.2.3–11; Plut. Publ. 7.4; Bernard (2000) 189–91. In contrast to this, note the practice of reviving old names which had supposedly fallen into disuse, cf. Wikander (1993) 80–84. 149 Cf. Quint. Inst. 5.10.24 who says that it is possible to base an argument on a person’s birth, nam similes parentibus ac maioribus suis plerumque creduntur. Wiseman (1979) 25: ‘A Decius once deliberately sacrificed his life to win victory for the Romans; a Manlius once had his own son executed for disobeying an order; a Valerius once gave the people the rights of appeal. All those were genuinely ancient stories, whatever their historicity; but in the later historical tradition, self-devotion can be attributed to any Decius, over-strict discipline to any Manlius, and care for the rights of the citizen to any Valerius’; Rawson (1971) 75–76, (1985) 219; Walter (2003), (2004). Of course, it may not have always been a matter of simply writing more expansively, for example, see Ogilvie (1965) 9–10; Oakley (1997) 92, 372, 692–93; Wiseman (2009) 19–23 and also 33–57 on the Licinii and the politics of Licinius Macer.

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Livy claimed that fate had entrusted the Gallic wars to the Furii, so equally he could very well have said that fate had entrusted them to the Manlii. A Decius Mus or a Iunius Brutus could draw attention to, and hold up as a model of behaviour, a very famous and distinctive ancestral exploit and, as that exploit was so very distinctive, any emulation of it by another member of the gens would be (and still is) immediately obvious. Consequently no one today hesitates to discuss the parallel nature of the exploits of the Decii Mures, the father, son and possibly even grandson who were said to have devoted themselves, or of the two Iunii Bruti who overcame tyranny for the very reason that the parallel nature of these exploits is so very striking. A modern historian would, however, be far less likely to draw attention to the fact that the Furii or the Manlii fought Gauls on several occasions, simply because such exploits are far less distinctive and so are less remarkable. Attention can only really be drawn to these parallels because ancient writers did so, and yet even these parallels are distinctive to a certain degree. What happens, however, when family traditions do not contain exploits which are distinctive or unique? The most obvious and basic claims that any noble gens would be likely to make for its members would be election to office and service to the state, service which culminated, ideally, in military victory. For some families, it may have been victory over a particular enemy, or victory achieved in a particular way, but the straightforward claim to victory is the essential point. Associated with these ideals were the various standard characteristics which a Roman noble was expected to exhibit. He was, for instance, expected to act in good faith, and he was expected to display qualities such as virtus, constantia and pietas; he was expected to aspire to possess dignitas, auctoritas and gravitas.150 These are all obviously things which could quite easily be claimed, but which are not in themselves strikingly distinctive, and they are certainly not things which were unique. One of the characteristics that were associated with the patrician Claudii was stern opposition to the plebs. While it is not impossible that numerous members of the gens shared precisely the same political outlook and attitude towards the people, generation after generation, it does seem inherently improbable. It is almost certain that some, at least, of the episodes in which the Claudii so conspicuously opposed the plebs are unhistorical, and it is quite likely that most of them are (note, for instance, how most of the early episodes presuppose that the plebs and the patricians were static and clearly defined groups, and were groups which had existed from the outset; that is, the presentation of the early Claudii is based upon an unhistorical model). But what if the Claudii, rather than displaying such hostility to the plebs, something which is quite distinctive, had supposedly displayed instead good military leadership, or tactical ability in the field? There are no difficulties involved at all in drawing attention to the political views of the Claudii, and to their opposition to the plebs, and discussing them as part of a presentation, or as elements of a model of behaviour to which numerous members of the gens were supposed to have ad150 On the importance of office-holding, see recently Beck (2005) 9–21; on aristocratic values, Rosenstein (2006); cf. also the works cited in n. 155 below.

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hered, but in actual fact probably did not. It would, in contrast, be a considerably more difficult thing to draw attention to a series of military victories, and to highlight those victories as a presentation, or as part of a model of behaviour which various members of the gens were supposed to have emulated. As it happens, a further element of the hostile presentation of the Claudii was the claim that they were poor commanders, an element which is noteworthy (or even able to be noted) perhaps only because it too is unusual.151 Consider, in contrast, the Valerii. According to the Fasti triumphales, the very first triumph of the republican period was celebrated by P. Valerius Publicola (in 509 BC). The second triumph of the republican period was celebrated a few years later (in 505) by M. Valerius Volusus. In the following year P. Valerius Publicola triumphed for a second time. Ten years after that (in 494) M’. Valerius Maximus celebrated a triumph, and throughout the rest of the fifth century, members of the gens Valeria triumphed on at least three further occasions (in 475, 449 and 437), and in the fourth century, on at least five occasions (in 346, 343, 335, 312 and 301).152 yet, despite all these triumphs and the successful campaigns which they imply, military success is not something with which the Valerii are especially associated. It is, however, frequently noted that the Valerii are consistently presented in the tradition as the champions of the people’s cause and that they are often also presented as the opponents of the Claudii.153 But this latter presentation is obviously something quite distinctive, and consequently it is very easy to argue that it represents a model of behaviour, one to which the various members of the gens were supposed to have consistently adhered. No one, on the other hand, has argued that successful military campaigning was a typical characteristic of the gens Valeria in the same way that the championing of plebeian interests was, and yet there is no reason whatsoever why it may not have been.154 What all this inevitably means is that, if an individual member of a gens has been styled after an ancestor, or in accordance with some family model of behaviour, this may not always be discernable in the literary tradition, especially if that 151 Cornell (1982) 205 defends the tradition that the Claudii were poor commanders (this is ‘a historical fact based on the Fasti’; but on the Fasti, see n. 154 below). While an individual can deliberately speak or act in the manner of an ancestor, military campaigning is a completely different matter; the ability, or inability, to command an army successfully is not something that automatically runs in a family; it is certainly not something which is genetically predetermined; and, of course, the role of luck can never be underestimated. 152 Degrassi (1947) 65–73; the triumph of 437 is problematic, see MRR I, 58 and 59 n. 1; so too that of 301 (a ‘dictator year’), see MRR I, 170–71 (Livy 10.5.13 places the triumph in the previous year). 153 See, e. g., Livy 2.8.1–2, 3.18.6, 3.55, 7.32.13–16, 7.40.7; Walsh (1961) 88–90; Wiseman (1979) 113–17; Vasaly (1987) 203; Oakley (1997) 99; Bernard (2000) 181–82; Lentano (2007) 130– 31. 154 Note too that the Fasti (both consulares and triumphales) are themselves late documents, documents which are not independent of the historiographical tradition, cf., e. g., Pais (1906) 5–8, 277–78, (1913) 13–19; Wiseman (1979) 13–16, (1995) 104–5, (2008) 235; Oakley (1997) 56; this means that the tradition of the Valerii’s magistracies and triumphs is similar in nature and origin to the tradition that they defended the people’s interests.

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ancestor’s career or the family model was not distinctive. Furthermore, given the relatively narrow range of things to which a Roman noble had ideally to aspire (namely election to office and service to the state), it is highly likely that many family models were not in the least bit distinctive. Conformity must have almost always been the safest option, and indeed even the most distinctive patterns of behaviour are usually safely within the boundaries of what was acceptable.155 As a consequence the literary tradition could potentially contain numerous episodes which have been altered, and in some cases even invented outright, by families seeking to establish for themselves a reputation for a particular type of achievement. The whole matter is, however, extremely difficult. Rome’s nobility was fiercely competitive, and since family status was inherited, the achievements of the ancestors were of considerable significance to a family’s standing. Consular ancestry brought with it nobility. The further back in time those consular ancestors, the older the family’s nobility;156 the more numerous those consular ancestors, then the greater the frequency with which the populus Romanus must have recognised the qualities and virtues of the individual members of the family and rewarded them with election to the state’s highest office. Successful service to the state, and military achievement in particular, were great sources of glory. The more numerous those achievements, and the greater, then the greater the prestige and nobility of the family.157 In an environment such as this the temptation to lay claim to false achievements, and to invent consular ancestors, or family connections to illustrious people from the past must have been considerable, and there is good evidence that these things happened. At the end of his eighth book, when he was relating the events which were said to have taken place in the consulship of Q. Fabius Rullianus and L. Fulvius Curvus (322 BC), Livy reported a problem: his different sources contained different, and irreconcilably so, versions of events. It was evidently not an uncommon problem, but this time Livy chose to elaborate upon the matter. He supposed that the cause of such discrepancies was funeral speeches and the inscriptions which accompanied the imagines in which families sought to claim military victories and

155 Cf., in this context, the idea, and the nature and influence, of the ‘collective memory’ of the Roman nobility, on which see, e. g., Hölkeskamp (1996), (2006); Flaig (2003) 69–98; Blösel (2003). 156 Although this could be a double-edged thing, if recent members of the family had failed to do well, cf. Cic. Mur. 16: only historians and the well educated were aware of Ser. Sulpicius Rufus’ nobility; Asc. 23C: since neither his father, grandfather nor great-grandfather had attained office, Scaurus needed to work as hard as a new man, says Asconius, even though he was from a patrician family; Wiseman (1971) 106; Hopkins (1983) 38–39; Hölkeskamp (2010) 109–15. 157 The importance of service to the Republic, and the importance of popular election are easily seen in the general absence of ancestors of the noble republican families from the traditions of the Regal period (cf. Wikander [1993] 88–89): there was presumably little to be gained from inserting ancestors into the traditions of the Regal period, in part because association with the kings may have had a detrimental effect, but also because the ideals of the Republic could obviously not have existed under the kings (cf. section 2.1 above).

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magistracies which they had never actually won.158 Significantly, Livy was not the first to suggest that Rome’s historical traditions had become corrupted by the false claims of Roman families. Cicero, in his Brutus, complains about the same problem: funeral speeches in which things which had never happened were related as though they had, and in which families claimed descent from individuals to whom they were not related in the least.159 One specific example which Cicero gives of the first sort of distortion is the claim to false triumphs, and that is what Livy records too: according to one of the versions which he found of the events of 322, the dictator A. Cornelius Arvina won a triumph but, according to the other, it was instead the two consuls who triumphed.160 Livy also came across two different explanations for the very appointment of a dictator in this year. One involved military activity, but the other did not.161 The great difficulty is, of course, distinguishing between false claims that were intended simply to enhance a family’s standing, and false claims that were designed to establish, or to provide confirmation of, a pattern of achievement and behaviour for a family, a pattern which, it could be supposed or promised, future members of the gens would emulate. It may be, however, that there is no distinction to be made. A record of glorious military exploits would inevitably bring prestige, and it would also establish a reputation, and along with it, expectations amongst the voters. In a world where sons were expected to emulate their fathers, just as their fathers had (ideally, and according to generally accepted ideology) emulated their own fathers before them, a long list of consular ancestors and a series of military victories would represent invaluable capital.162 Livy and Cicero both knew that Rome’s historical traditions had been affected by spurious claims made in funeral speeches and in the inscriptions which accompanied the imagines. If neither commented on the standardising effects that these sorts of claims inevitably had on family traditions, that is no surprise. A standard158 Livy 8.38–40; note as well 4.16.4, 10.7.11, 22.31.11, 27.27.13; not uncommon problem: see, e. g., Ridley (1983); Oakley (1997) 13–15, 79–83, 108; Forsythe (1999). Cornell’s treatment (see [1995] 10) of Livy 8.40.4–5 (and the comparable evidence of Cicero, for which, see the next note) is inadequate, see Wiseman (1996) 315; note too Wiseman (1983a) for further critique of Cornell’s arguments elsewhere. Reactions like Cornell’s are not unprecedented, see Ridley (1983) 372–73. Forsythe (2005) 76–77 manages to do nothing with this same evidence, but his hands are tied by his complete (but unwarranted) faith in the value of the consular Fasti (see 153–66). 159 Cic. Brut. 62, but note Cic. Tusc. 1.38. Cf. also Suet. Iul. 6.1: Caesar laid claim to divine and regal ancestry in the funeral speech which he gave for his aunt (see section 1 above on legendary genealogies); Suet. Calig. 35.1, on which see Farney (2008) 385–86; Plin. HN 35.8, and 7.139–40, on which, cf. Wiseman (1985) 3–10; Flower (1996) 145–50; Oakley (1997) 30–33, however, seems to want to play down the effects of such false claims. 160 Livy 8.39.15–40.1; the compiler of the Fasti triumphales has both consuls triumph (Degrassi [1947] 71) although, since he too was a late writer who, like Livy, relied upon the work of earlier historians (see n. 154 above), his version is ultimately no more valuable. 161 Livy 8.40.2; note also Zon. 7.26. 162 On the idea of capital, see, e. g., Hölkeskamp (2000) 217–18, (2010) 107–24; Gotter (2000) 331–32; Flaig (2003) esp. 49–68. See n. 119 above.

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ised presentation was probably just what they expected. That outcome was not at all problematic, at least for them. 6. SIGNIFICANCE The Iunii Bruti deposed kings and established liberty; the Cassii too were opposed to tyranny; the Decii Mures devoted themselves in battle; the patrician Claudii were arrogant and hated the plebs; the Valerii were the people’s champions, and so were often also the opponents of the Claudii; the Furii fought the Gauls, as did the Manlii, but the Manlii were also known for their severity; the Mucii Scaevolae practised law; while the Cornelii Scipiones were victorious in Africa. Further examples, not hitherto mentioned, can easily be added: the Servilii were subordinate characters, or seekers of political compromise and concord; the Sempronii could be rash; the Minucii too, and consequently could find themselves in need of rescue; the Icilii were the opponents of the patricians; while the Fabii, as will be discussed in the next chapter, delayed and saved the day by doing so, and also often put the welfare of the state before all else; and so on.163 The Roman tendency to suppose, and in turn to claim, that members of the same gens behave in similar ways is clearly no minor or trivial phenomenon. It appears to be a central component of the way in which the Romans thought about families and about human behaviour in the context of the family, and consequently of the way in which they thought about the past. All this is certainly not just some literary device or theme. This is first and foremost a way of thinking. It is all too easy just to assume that people in antiquity thought about the past, about human behaviour, about family continuity, and so on in ways which are similar to those in which such subjects are viewed today, but such assumptions are obviously extremely dangerous. The dangers involved with these sorts of assumptions can be illustrated very easily. The city of Rome was, according to tradition, founded by Romulus. Livy imagines that it was indeed a city which Romulus built. So that his big city might not be empty, Romulus devised schemes to increase the population. He threw the city open to asylum seekers, and he organised the abduction of the Sabine women.164 Since Romulus had founded a state, he also needed to set up all the appropriate append163 On the Servilii, see Walsh (1961) 90–91 (subordinate); Vasaly (1987) 203 (seekers of compromise, etc); on the Sempronii, Walsh (1961) 90; Oakley (1997) 99; Chapter II, section 5; on the Minucii, Walsh (1961) 90, and Chapter II, section 2; on the Icilii, Ducos (1987) 164; Santoro L’Hoir (1990) 229; Oakley (1997) 99; Bernard (2000) 179; Walter (2004) 414. Further examples can be found in the works listed already, and also in Pais (1913) 178–79; Rawson (1985) 89–90; Vasaly (1999); Treggiari (2003); Farney (2007) passim, although for Farney the key issue is ethnicity; cf. the list of family and other patterns in Bernard (2000) 194–95. 164 See, e. g., Livy 1.8.4–5: crescebat interim urbs munitionibus alia atque alia appetendo loca, cum in spem magis futurae multitudinis quam ad id quod tum hominum erat munirent. deinde, ne vana urbis magnitudo esset; 1.8.5–6 (asylum); 1.9–13 (rape of the Sabine women and the events which ensued).

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ages of a state. Thus, according to tradition, he established the Senate, the patrician order, the curiae and the tribes, drew up a law code and enlisted Rome’s first army.165 It is not necessary to consult the archaeological evidence for the first human settlement on the site of Rome, and for the development of a unified community, and subsequently a city, to see just how artificial and unhistorical the tradition concerning the foundation of Rome really is. What lies behind this wholly anachronistic tradition, and is ultimately the cause of it, is a failure on the part of the Romans to appreciate that the past is usually different from the present, and is often profoundly and unpredictably so. The effects of this failure were in some instances exacerbated by a belief in the cyclical nature of history and in the unchanging nature of humanity. It is quite clear that many Romans tended to assume, if not actively believe, that the past was essentially the same as the present. Hence Romulus’ city-state, and hence too the general failure to realise that the city and its institutions had actually developed over a very lengthy period of time.166 Although, it is true, some Romans did claim that Romulus’ Rome was simple and rustic, this was not because they were aware that it had actually been so. Such claims were made simply because they served some purpose of those who were making them.167 As with the tendency to assume that members of the same gens would have behaved in similar ways, the tendency to assume that the past was little different from the present was equally not just a literary or historiographical phenomenon, even though the best evidence for it is likewise literary. Evidence for such unhistorical thinking can also be found in other media, such as the visual arts.168 The obvious consequence of this unhistorical approach to the past is that the literary tradition of early Rome is profoundly anachronistic. It is very easy to dismiss Romulus’ large, empty city as wholly unhistorical. It is much more difficult, however, to try to untangle the evidence for the development of such things as the comitia centuriata or the comitia tributa, not to mention the magistracies of the republican state. At what point does anachronism give way to something resembling historical reality? It is usually impossible to tell. However, it is absolutely 165 E. g., Livy 1.8.1 (law code); 1.8.7 (Senate and patrician order); 1.13.6–8 (30 curiae and the Ramnenses, Titienses and Luceres, equestrian centuries according to Livy, but elsewhere referred to as tribes, e. g., Varro Ling. 5.55; Plut. Rom. 20.1–2); Livy 1.10.4 (Romulus’ army; for the creation of it, see, e. g., Plut. Rom. 13.1); further references in Richardson (2008) 330 n. 9; on Dionysius’ account of Romulus’ constitution, see Wiseman (2009) 81–98. 166 See, e. g., Wiseman (1979) 41–53, (2008) 15; Cornell (1986a) 83–84, (2005) 59–60; Gabba (1991) 80–85, 159–66; Timpe (1996) 281–82; Oakley (1997) 86–88; Richardson (2008); cf. also Woodman (1979) 153; Reinhold (1985) on ancient theories about the cyclical nature of history and about the constancy of human nature; note too the influence of Roman ideas concerning the mos maiorum: Wallace-Hadrill (2008) 227; Richardson (2008a) 628 n. 6. The career of Romulus may seem like an easy and obvious example of this problem, but it illustrates the problem well and clearly demonstrates that it is necessary to be wary of this sort of unhistorical approach elsewhere, and especially in those places where it is less blatant and therefore easily missed. 167 See Wiseman (1979) 42, (2000) 287–88. 168 Small (1991) esp. 247–50; further example in Richardson (2008b) esp. 421.

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essential that anyone who seeks to understand early Rome appreciates just how anachronistic the literary tradition really is. Any failure to do so, and any failure to realise that the Romans thought about the past in ways that are, by modern standards, often wholly unhistorical will almost inevitably lead to a mishandling of the evidence and to conclusions that are likely to be as anachronistic as the tradition upon which they are based. A second, rather different example may also be useful. The Romans conquered a vast number of peoples and acquired an expansive empire as a result. How did this come about? What motivated them to go to war year after year? One thesis which held a dominant position throughout much of the twentieth century maintained that Roman imperialism (of the mid-republican period in particular) was primarily defensive in nature. According to this thesis, the Romans went to war almost every single year in order to defend themselves and to defend their friends and allies from aggressive and hostile neighbours. The possibility that the Romans may have been a little paranoid perhaps strengthens the argument. It was primarily as a result of this desire to defend themselves that the Romans managed to acquire their massive empire.169 That argument, at least in the slightly simplified and somewhat sweeping terms in which it is presented here, may not seem especially convincing. However, if consideration is given to the era in which it was most popular (namely the first part of the twentieth century, the time, most notably, of the First and Second World Wars and the decades after), then it is possible to see how such an argument may have appeared far more persuasive.170 However improbable may be the idea that the Romans acquired such an extensive empire simply out of a desire to defend themselves and their friends (and so essentially by accident), the argument for defensive imperialism seems much less improbable if it is assumed that the Romans thought about war in the same way as those scholars who, living during and soon after the First and Second World Wars, did.171 169 See, e. g., Errington (1971) 3: ‘Rome’s rise to world power was one of the most important accidents in European history… Rome’s empire was not created by any initial desire to rule or to exploit others. Rather it evolved through a continual process of responding to threats, real or imagined, to Rome’s ever-widening sphere of interests. Expansion proceeded by a series of steps which aimed to achieve, first and foremost, merely the security of Rome… Thus the process which produced the Roman empire overseas was accidental in the sense that it was not deliberately begun with the aim of achieving empire or (in the early stages) deliberately continued. It was not dissimilar to the way in which, since the Second World War, the security interests of the USA have spread, half unwillingly, to embrace the greater part of the so-called ‘free’ world’. 170 The argument for defensive imperialism actually originated in the nineteenth century; see Linderski (1984) on the historical and intellectual contexts in which it developed. Other explanations for Rome’s expansion are plentiful; see the brief overview in Gruen (1984) 5–7. 171 Note, for instance, Errington’s comparison with the USA (see n. 169 above); cf. also the comparisons made by Sherwin-White (1980) 180: ‘As for the second Punic war, H[arris] never considers the Punic side of the matter. If Saguntum was a pretext for Rome it was equally a pretext for Hannibal, who, bent on destroying Rome, mobilized faster than the Romans, as H[arris] explains. That the Roman Senate then set about the war with immense zeal and all

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People’s views about war may not have changed a great deal since the early and mid-twentieth century, but what has changed since then is the way in which Roman attitudes towards war are viewed. For the Romans, it has since been demonstrated, war was a potential source of glory, prestige and wealth. War was not something to be abhorred and to be avoided at all costs; it was something to be actively sought out.172 Since it is now appreciated that the Romans thought about war quite differently from the way in which most people do today, it is consequently possible to understand Roman imperialism in ways in which it could not previously be understood. So what about conceptions of human behaviour? Clearly it would be extremely dangerous simply to assume that the Romans thought about human behaviour in a manner which is at all similar to the way in which people do now. If an author were today to write a narrative of a certain period of history, or indeed even a work of fiction, and present individual members of the same family in the same way, and have them all behave in the same fashion, few would find the narrative plausible or convincing. In antiquity, that clearly was not the case. This difference is not just due to a difference in attitudes towards history and what counts as plausible narrative, it is also due to a difference in attitudes towards human behaviour, and above all, towards human behaviour in the context of the family and the deeds of ancestors. These differences meant that the Romans were happy to accept, as people today are far less likely to be, the idea that different members of the same gens might have performed the same exploits on repeated occasions. These differences also meant that the Romans were in turn able, in a way that people today are not, to try to reconstruct a plausible (to their mind) narrative of the past by discerning or by devising parallels and patterns in the behaviour of the distant ancestors of various gentes. If it is accepted that the Furii are fated to fight the Gauls, then it is easy to create a plausible campaign for an early Furius for whom no good evidence exists. If the tendency to present gentiles according to a standard model was not just a literary phenomenon, but was rather the result of a different attitude towards human behaviour, then evidence for this tendency ought to be quite pervasive in the literary tradition. A good many examples of standard models and repeated behaviour have been discussed already. The next chapter offers a detailed case study, an attempt to discern how this attitude towards human behaviour has affected the traditions of just one family in particular, and an attempt to demonstrate that the effects of this attitude on the tradition are far more persistent than is usually allowed.

available forces does not make the Senate the war-monger, any more than Churchill in our own times’; 181: ‘These advanced agricultural and commercial economies [viz. Carthage and Egypt] had much the same effect on the Roman mind as American industrial economy has on the Kremlin’. Although only analogies, these comparisons may nonetheless be suggestive of underlying assumptions that have been made about Roman attitudes. 172 Harris (1979) is of fundamental importance; see also North (1981).

II. THE TRADITIONS OF THE FABII If the name Fabius has to be remembered, then think of that delayer, Q. Fabius Verrucosus. It is not possible to forget him. Quintilian1

1. INTRODUCTION Chapter I looked at Roman attitudes towards human behaviour in the context of the gens and its traditions; it considered the effect that these attitudes had on the way individual Romans behaved, as well as the effect that they had on the traditions of the past. If an individual member of a particular gens acted in a certain way, that may have been because he was consciously styling himself on a famous ancestor, or because he was merely living up to the expectation that he would behave as that famous ancestor had. Thus, for instance, M. Iunius Brutus brought an end to Caesar’s tyranny because that was precisely what a Iunius Brutus was expected to do. The pattern of behaviour had been firmly established by Marcus’ famous ancestor, L. Iunius Brutus. The expectation that members of the same gens would conduct themselves in a similar manner did not, however, just affect the ways in which people from time to time actually did behave; it also affected the ways in which earlier members of the same gens were supposed, or assumed, to have behaved. After all, if it is expected that a particular individual should have behaved in a certain way simply because he belonged to a specific gens, or to a particular branch of that gens, then it becomes comparatively easy to devise a plausible reconstruction of that individual’s actions. If the individual in question belonged, for example, to the gens Claudia, it could easily and plausibly be supposed that he must have behaved arrogantly and that he must have been an opponent of the plebs, simply because all the patrician Claudii, stereotypically, behaved arrogantly and were, stereotypically, the opponents of the plebs. The purpose of this second chapter is to explore the consequences of this mode of thought further and in greater detail, and more precisely, to examine the extent to which Roman ideas and ideals about human behaviour may have actually affected the traditions of their past. The focus will be on the gens Fabia, and, to a large degree, on how the presentation of early members of this gens has been affected by the career of one very illustrious member of it, namely Q. Fabius Verrucosus, the great 1

Quint. Inst. 11.2.30: ut in nominibus, si Fabius forte sit tenendus, referamus ad illum cunctatorem, qui excidere non potest.

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hero of the war with Hannibal. Scholarship has, by and large, tended to focus on the patrician Claudii, the Decii Mures and so on, simply because the standardised nature of the presentation of the various members of these families is so very obvious. A detailed study of the traditions of the Fabii will be especially useful because the Fabii have received comparatively little attention in this context. They have done so precisely because the standardised nature of the presentation of various members of this gens is not always immediately apparent, and so therefore has been largely missed. Since the primary concern is the effect that Verrucosus’ career has had on the traditions of his ancestors, it will not be necessary to look at the careers of those Fabii who came after him. If a subsequent Fabius was said to have acted in a manner reminiscent of Verrucosus, this could conceivably be because he was consciously seeking to emulate him, perhaps in a manner akin to the way M. Iunius Brutus emulated his ancestor. As for those Fabii who lived at a much earlier date, if they were said to have behaved as Verrucosus did, that can only be because the tradition concerning them has been recast, or simply created, sometime after Verrucosus’ career and in the light of it. An examination of the traditions of the early members of the gens Fabia should, therefore, allow for an assessment of the extent to which the tradition of Rome’s past has been affected by Roman ideas about human behaviour. The gens Fabia of course produced others besides the hero of the Hannibalic War who also enjoyed illustrious careers, and so perhaps inevitably Verrucosus did not constitute the sole model of behaviour for the other members of his gens. Different patterns of behaviour and other devices are readily discernable too and will also be discussed. Nonetheless, a brief overview of the most important and distinctive of Verrucosus’ achievements will help to establish some of the more significant and more easily recognised patterns. 2. Q. FABIUS VERRUCOSUS, ‘THE DELAyER’ In 218 BC Hannibal arrived in Northern Italy and in two early engagements, at Ticinus and at Trebia, he defeated the Romans. He then encamped for the winter. The following year, the consul C. Flaminius determined to destroy him; but Flaminius, according to the sources, set out in haste and neglected to perform the necessary rites owed to the gods.2 In haste too he marched, on a foggy morning, along the shore of Lake Trasimene and into the ambush which Hannibal had laid for him. Flaminius’ army was nearly wiped out and Flaminius himself was killed.3 News

2

3

Livy 21.63.2–15 (Flaminius avoided Rome altogether, afraid that the Senate, with which he had fallen out, would impede and so delay him; he ignored both the Senate’s recall and the customary religious rites), 22.1.5–7, 22.3.4–5, 22.3.11–14, 22.9.7; Plut. Fab. 2.4–3.1, 4.3; also Cic. Div. 1.77, Nat. D. 2.8. For the battle of Trasimene and the consul’s death, see the references in MRR I, 242.

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of the defeat, when it reached Rome, caused panic. A dictator was appointed, the first to be so for many years. The man chosen was Q. Fabius Verrucosus.4 Plutarch claims (but he is probably not to be believed) that Fabius had earlier urged the Romans, before Flaminius had departed from the city, to be patient and to delay. Hannibal’s army was reportedly small and not well supplied. There was no need to engage him in battle; his cause would soon burn out. But Flaminius had ignored Fabius’ advice. Nor had Flaminius given any consideration, when his horse had reared and thrown him to the ground, to what this omen might mean.5 Fabius, upon being appointed dictator and after M. Minucius Rufus had been chosen as his magister equitum, first busied himself with religious matters. Flaminius had neglected these and so naturally he had been unsuccessful. The Sibylline books were consulted; sacrifices were made, or vowed; prayers were offered, and games and temples promised.6 Fabius then set out against Hannibal, but not to fight him. For Fabius’ policy was to avoid pitched battle. Hannibal was too skilled and his army too experienced. Instead, Fabius planned to shadow his opponent, to impede him, to deny him access to whatever materials he could, and, but only when conditions favoured it, to skirmish with his men. It was to be a war of attrition.7 The great, decisive battle could be put off for it entailed only needless risk.8 Fabius’ policy, however, was not popular, and his reluctance to fight was taken to be evidence of cowardice. His men were unhappy and Minucius Rufus, his magister equitum, only encouraged the soldiers’ contempt for their general.9 Hannibal alone, Plutarch claims,10 appreciated the wisdom of Fabius’ policy, but he too was unable to provoke the dictator into giving battle. He set out for Campania, and hoped that, by laying waste to the land there, he could encourage Fabius to fight. Instead he succeeded only in getting himself trapped, for the dictator was able to secure the pass out of the region into which Hannibal had advanced. It did not, however, do Fabius’ reputation any good at all when his opponent succeeded in escaping during the night, employing a herd of cattle with burning timbers tied to their horns as a diversion.11 Hannibal was also quick to capitalise on his success. Aware of the growing resentment at Rome towards Fabius’ strategy, when he re4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

MRR I, 243. The precise nature of Fabius’ dictatorship is a little uncertain (see the discussion in Beck [2005] 284–86), but that does not matter here; Fabius’ behaviour is the essential issue. Plut. Fab. 2.5–3.1. Livy too has Flaminius thrown from his horse, but places this slightly later, 22.3.11. Livy 22.9.7–11.1; Plut. Fab. 4.3–5. Although not according to all accounts, see Erdkamp (1992) 137–40. It is not necessary to attempt to untangle the different explanations of Fabius’ policy (for which, see n. 8), and historical reality is also less important here; see n. 31 below. Polyb. 3.89–90.6; Livy 22.12.3–10, 22.39.9–15; Val. Max. 3.8.2; Sil. Pun. 7.90–130, 219–52; Frontin. Strat. 1.3.3; Plut. Fab. 2.5, 5, 19.3–4, Apophth. Fab. 1, 3; App. Hann. 12–13; Polyaenus Strat. 8.14.1; Dio fr. 57.9–10, 11; De vir. ill. 14.6, 43.2; Eutrop. 3.9–10; Zon. 8.25–26. Polyb. 3.90.6, 3.92.4; Livy 22.12.11–12, 22.14.4–15, 22.15.5; Plut. Fab. 5.2–5; App. Hann. 12. Plut. Fab. 5.3. Polyb. 3.90.7–94.7; Livy 22.13.1–18.4; Plut. Fab. 6–7.1; Zon. 8.26.

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sumed his pillaging and burning, he made sure that Fabius’ land alone was left unharmed.12 The dictator’s property may have been safe with the enemy, but his reputation was now coming under increasing fire at home. Whether by coincidence or by design, it was shortly after that Fabius was recalled to the city. There were religious rites that required his presence. Before he set out for Rome, he instructed his magister equitum, who was to remain with the army, not to engage Hannibal in his absence, but Minucius paid no heed to this order and prepared to confront the enemy.13 Subsequent events are important and require more detailed discussion. Minucius had been outspoken in his opposition to Fabius’ tactics. Livy gives him a lengthy speech in which he challenges the dictator, inquires whether they are merely spectators, or are there to fight, and recalls heroic feats of the past, achieved without delay.14 Minucius was himself eager to meet Hannibal in battle and so, when Fabius was subsequently called away to Rome, he seized the opportunity to do so. Readily ignoring the dictator’s explicit orders to the contrary, he engaged the enemy. An encounter of some description took place (the details do not matter), the outcome of which was apparently in Rome’s favour; it was, however, a report of unmitigated victory which was said to have reached the city.15 This welcome news provided all the ammunition that Fabius’ opponents needed. Chief amongst the dictator’s critics in the city was the tribune of the plebs M. Metilius, whose magistracy, Plutarch says, granted him immunity from Fabius’ authority. According to Livy, Fabius defended his strategy of delay, but he did so only in the Senate. He also added that Minucius must face charges of disobedience. To avoid further involvement in the whole dispute, Livy says, Fabius then slipped away at night and set out for his army. This last detail may be significant. In contrast to this, Plutarch has Fabius speak only about the need to perform his religious duties quickly, so that he could return to the camp and punish his magister equitum for violating orders.16 The tribune Metilius proposed (or would have proposed, Livy says) that Fabius should be deprived of his command. In the end, the people passed a bill which gave Minucius Rufus an equal share in the command, and thus he effectively became a dictator alongside Fabius, an unprecedented event.17 It is important to note, how12 13 14 15

16 17

Livy 22.23.4; Plut. Fab. 7.2; Dio fr. 57.15. Polyb. 3.94.9–10; Livy 22.18.8–10; Plut. Fab. 8.1. Livy 22.14.4–15; on Minucius’ choice of historical examples, see Chaplin (2000) 43–44. Polyb. 3.101.1–103.1; Livy 22.24.1–14 (noting as well the alternative version of quidam auctores); Plut. Fab. 8.1–3; App. Hann. 12; Sil. Pun. 7.504–5 has rumour of a victory circulate; Zon. 8.26 knew a tradition of events according to which Minucius was actually defeated, and was saved only by some Samnites (who are also mentioned in Livy’s alternative version). Livy 22.25.1–16 (22.25.12–16 is Fabius’ reaction and departure from Rome); Plut. Fab. 8.3– 9.2 (Fabius’ reaction is at 9.1; for Metilius’ immunity, 9.2; for Fabius’ departure from Rome, 10.3). Polyb. 3.103.1–4, albeit with no mention of Metilius and no details about events in Rome; Nepos Hann. 5.3; Livy 22.25.10, 22.25.17–26.5 (Livy introduces C. Terentius Varro as the only advocate of the bill, 22.25.18: unus inventus est suasor legis C. Terentius Varro; the use of unus is ironic, see below on Enn. Ann. fr. 363 Skutsch); Val. Max. 5.2.4; Plut. Fab. 9.2–3; App.

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ever, that while Fabius’ policy of delay was unpopular, and while the citizens of Rome were elated by the news of Minucius’ victory, what motivated them to elevate Minucius to a position of equality with the dictator was above all, tradition claims, the desire to protect him from whatever punishment Fabius intended to administer for his disobedience.18 Rather than share the command on alternate days, Minucius and Fabius resolved to divide the army between them, so that both could be in command at the same time. With their forces divided, the two commanders also pitched camp separately. Aware of these developments and seeking to exploit Minucius’ desire to fight, Hannibal laid an ambush for him. Hiding soldiers in the gullies that were strewn across a certain plain, he sent a small and thus temptingly weak detachment of men to occupy a hill which stood in the centre of the plain. Against this small detachment Minucius dispatched forces of his own, and when Hannibal brought up reinforcements, Minucius led his entire army down into the field. The two sides met, and shortly after they had done so Hannibal gave the signal for the rest of his soldiers to come out of concealment and join the battle. Minucius and his men were soon surrounded.19 As soon as he heard the noise of the battle and saw the plight of Minucius and his soldiers, Fabius Verrucosus quickly advanced with his own army. His arrival alleviated Minucius’ difficulties and soon forced Hannibal to call off the engagement. Thus Fabius successfully rescued his colleague. Later that same day, conscious now of the wisdom of Fabius’ strategy and aware of his own shortcomings, Minucius led his men back to Fabius’ camp. There he addressed Fabius as ‘father’, and placed himself once more under his command, while his soldiers addressed Fabius’ troops as patroni. At Rome, Fabius was lauded.20 Polybius’ account of these events is succinct and straightforward. He hints at the domestic conflict following Fabius’ return to Rome and after Minucius’ victory, but provides no details, and he has comparatively little to say about the quarrel between the dictator and his magister equitum.21 Nor does Polybius write in any detail about Fabius’ rescue of Minucius, and he passes over Minucius’ behaviour af-

18 19 20

21

Hann. 12; Dio fr. 57.16; De vir. ill. 43.3; Zon. 8.26. On Minucius’ position, see Dorey (1955); Walbank (1957) 434. Plut. Fab. 9.1–3; cf. Livy 22.25.13, 22.27.3; Dorey (1955) 94. This does not come through in Polyb. 3.103.1–4, but Polybius has played down the conflict; see below. Polyb. 3.103.5–105.4; Livy 22.27.1–28.14; Val. Max. 5.2.4; Frontin. Strat. 2.5.22; Plut. Fab. 10.3–11.4; App. Hann. 13; Dio fr. 57.17; Zon. 8.26. Polyb. 3.105.5–10; Livy 22.29.1–30.8; Val. Max. 5.2.4; Plin. HN 22.10; Sil. Pun. 7.730–50; Frontin. Strat. 2.5.22; Plut. Fab. 12.1–13.5; App. Hann. 13; Dio fr. 57.19–20; Zon. 8.26; the episode was also recorded on Fabius’ elogium in the Forum of Augustus, for which see Beck (2005) 270–72; the elogium reads: dictator magistro equitum Minucio, quoius populus imperium cum dictatoris imperio aequaverat, et exercitui profligato subvenit et eo nomine ab exercitu Minuciano pater appellatus est. For Fabius as a father (again, not in a biological sense), note also Plut. Fab. 27.2. Domestic conflict: Polyb. 3.103.1–4; disagreement between dictator and magister equitum: Polyb. 3.90.6, 3.92.4, 3.94.8–10, 3.103.7, 3.104.1.

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terwards.22 He makes no reference whatsoever to the speech in which Minucius addressed Fabius as ‘father’. It would, however, almost certainly be wrong to conclude from Polybius’ muted account that his handling of this episode is in any way reflective of the manner in which it was treated in the source he consulted for these events – most probably Fabius Pictor – simply because it was Polybius’ normal practice to omit precisely this sort of material.23 It seems improbable that Fabius Pictor would have made light of this episode, and there is good reason to believe that he may have drawn a contrast between the dictator’s prudent caution and the temerity of his magister equitum,24 and it is quite likely that he may have told how Minucius humbly admitted the error of his ways and addressed his saviour as ‘father’. A brief digression may be justified here. M. Minucius Rufus was not the only member of his family to be rescued. One of the consuls of 458 was L. Minucius, and he campaigned against the Aequi. He did so with little success however, for he remained within the defences of his camp, and the Aequi were able to trap him there. At Rome, a dictator was appointed. The man chosen was L. Quinctius Cincinnatus. Cincinnatus assembled an army, set out from the city and quickly rescued the beleaguered consul. Afterwards, he stripped Minucius of his magistracy and appointed him as a legate instead, while Minucius’ men voted the dictator a golden crown and hailed him as their patronus.25 The episode is important for several reasons. Firstly, it provides further evidence of the Roman practice of attributing comparable behaviour to members of the same family. But it is also useful because the reaction of L. Minucius and his men in 458 may, to some small degree, be indicative of the reaction of M. Minucius and his men in 217, that is, if the events of 458 have been modelled on those of 217, as appears to have been the case. As soon as his term in office had expired, Fabius Verrucosus stepped down. The consuls of the year, Cn. Servilius and M. Atilius Regulus (who was the suffect consul elected after the death of Flaminius) then took over the command. According to Livy the two consuls conducted operations with great harmony, and in accordance with Fabius’ strategy.26 With the consuls of the following year (216), however, there came a change in strategy, for one of them, C. Terentius Varro was said to have displayed characteristics which are reminiscent of Minucius Rufus: he was one of Fabius’ critics, he was rash and he was eager to meet Hannibal in battle.27

22 23 24 25

26 27

Polyb. 3.105.5–10. Momigliano (1975) 26–27. The contrast is certainly made by Polybius, 3.105.8–9, note also 3.104.1. Livy 3.26.3–29.3; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 10.22.3–25.2; Val. Max. 2.7.7; Flor. 1.5.12; Dio fr. 23.2; De vir. ill. 17.1–2; Oros. 2.12.7–8; Zon. 7.17. Note that only in Livy’s account was Cincinnatus labelled patronus by Minucius’ soldiers; cf. also Pais (1915) 164; Vasaly (1999) 519–20. Note too the appearance of several Fabii in the tradition of these events, MRR I, 40. Livy 22.31.7, 22.32.1–3 (see 22.32.1 for their summa concordia, an important theme, on which, see below); Plut. Fab. 14.1; App. Hann. 16; Dio fr. 57.21; Zon. 8.26. On Varro, see Livy 22.25.18–26.4, 22.34.2, 22.38.6–13, 22.40.2, 22.41.1, 22.41.3–4, 22.42.3– 4, 22.42.7–12; Val. Max. 4.5.2; Plut. Fab. 14.1–2; App. Hann. 17–19; Oros. 4.16.1.

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Varro’s colleague was L. Aemilius Paullus, and there was a tradition that, before the consuls departed from the city, Fabius addressed Paullus and urged him to adopt a strategy of delay, and to attempt to restrain his colleague.28 But, as the two consuls commanded on alternate days, Varro was nonetheless able to pursue his plan and meet Hannibal in battle. The results were disastrous. Varro himself escaped the massacre, but Paullus, thrown from his horse (as Flaminius had been from his) did not. Along with him, some 70,000 Romans died.29 For the first time since his arrival in the peninsula, cities in Italy now began to defect to Hannibal, an outcome which in the end proved to be more of a hindrance to him than a help.30 Since their numbers were limited, Hannibal’s men could operate in only a few places at once, and Hannibal himself in just one; before long the Romans had several armies in the field and so could easily campaign where the Carthaginians were not, as well as hinder them wherever they were. The wisdom of Fabius’ strategy of delay had been revealed once more, and dramatically so, by the disaster at Cannae,31 and the Romans did not engage Hannibal in a major set battle again while he remained in Italy. Just as Fabius had predicted, Hannibal’s chances of victory slowly faded, and his campaign petered out. ‘One man saved our state by delaying’ (unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem). So wrote Ennius about Q. Fabius Verrucosus in his Annales, his great historical epic.32 The line became both famous and influential. Livy used it when he wrote his obituary of Fabius Verrucosus (and elsewhere too), and Virgil did so as well in his catalogue of Roman heroes in the sixth book of the Aeneid, an employment which further guaranteed the line’s fame. Cicero quoted the verse on several separate occasions, and indeed so well known was it that Augustus could happily modify it, presumably taking it for granted that everyone would be well aware of the allusion.33 28 29

30 31

32 33

Livy 22.38.13–39.22, and 22.49.10 for Paullus’ final words; Plut. Fab. 14.3–4, and 16.7. Dio fr. 57.23–25 and Zon. 9.1 compare the two consuls. Livy 22.41.2–3, 22.44.5–45.5, note also 22.49.7; Val. Max. 3.4.4; Plut. Fab. 15.1 (16.4: Paullus thrown from his horse), Aem. 2.3–4. Polyb. 3.107.7–113.1 does not give a speech to Fabius, and says little about Terentius’ character (cf. 3.110.3, 3.112.4), but he does have the consuls clash (3.110.3–4); and Terentius was in command on the day of the battle (3.113.1, 3.116.13). For the battle of Cannae, see the references in MRR I, 247; the figure of 70,000 comes from Polyb. 3.117.4. Cf., e. g., Livy 26.16.13, 26.38.1–2. Plut. Fab. 17.3–5; for Fabius Verrucosus as Rome’s ‘shield’, see Plut. Fab. 19.3, Marc. 9.4 (= Posidonius FGrH 87 fr. 42). Erdkamp (1992) has argued that Livy’s account emphasises the success of Fabius’ strategy (although this distortion did not originate with Livy). For present purposes, this matters little; what does matter is what Verrucosus was believed to have done, for it was not what he actually did, so much as what the Romans later thought that he had done that would have affected the presentation of earlier members of his gens, as well as the behaviour of later. Cf., for instance, M. Iunius Brutus, and what his entirely fictitious ancestor was believed to have done. Enn. Ann. fr. 363 Skutsch. Livy 30.26.9 (unum hominem nobis cunctando rem restituisse, sicut Ennius ait), elsewhere: see below; Virg. Aen. 6.846 (unus qui nobis cunctando restituis rem); Cic. Sen. 10, Off. 1.84, Att.

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According to later tradition, Q. Fabius Verrucosus was dubbed ‘Cunctator’, the ‘Delayer’, as a result of the tactics which he employed against Hannibal. The title was originally intended to be pejorative, given to him as it was by his opponents. Subsequently, however, after the wisdom of his policies had become apparent, the nature of the title changed and it became honourable.34 ‘Cunctator’ does not appear to have been a cognomen, but it does appear to have been treated as one at a much later date.35 Although later tradition supposed that Verrucosus was labelled ‘Cunctator’ during his own lifetime, as he may possibly have been, it is not at all inconceivable that the appellation in fact owed its origin to Ennius’ line.36 yet, even if Verrucosus only came to be called ‘Cunctator’ after Ennius’ Annales had been composed and as a result of the fame of this one verse, that does not necessarily require a significantly later date for the development and use of the title. Ennius wrote his epic in the early second century BC. The section of his poem in which Verrucosus was said to have saved Rome by delaying could well have played an important role in developing and shaping Fabius’ reputation, and along with it, more general ideas about Fabian behaviour. Ennius’ verse also provided, if the title ‘Cunctator’ had not already done so, a convenient and specific word that could be used to describe precisely what it was that Verrucosus, and – as will be discussed below – several other Fabii did: they delayed, they hesitated, they moved slowly, cunctantur. Naturally such behaviour could also be emphasised most dramatically when it was juxtaposed with behaviour of an opposite nature, behaviour that was speedy, rash and full of temerity, behaviour that was just like Minucius Rufus’.37 These then are the fundamental elements of the model (although others will be noted below): caution, delay, adherence to initially unpopular policies, and the rescuing of colleagues. The effect that this specific model has had upon the traditions of the Fabii can now be discussed.

34

35 36 37

2.19.2; Suet. Tib. 21.5: unus homo nobis vigilando restituit rem; Stanton (1971) 53; Beck (2005) 270. For further references and possible allusions, see Skutsch (1985) 529; Stanton (1971) 52–56. Frontin. Strat. 1.3.3: Cunctatorisque nomen et per hoc summi ducis meruit, 3.9.2; Flor. 1.22.27: hinc illi cognomen novum et rei publicae salutare Cunctator; Ampel. 18.6: alter Fabius Hannibalem mora fregit, ex quo Cunctator est cognominatus, 46.6; De vir. ill. 14.6: Q. Fabium Maximum, qui Hannibalem mora fregit, Cunctator ab obtrectatoribus dictus, 43.1; Zon. 8.25; cf. Quint. Inst. 8.2.11, 11.2.30; although compare Livy 22.12.12, 30.26.7–9. Stanton (1971) 49–52; Beck (2005) 270. Cf. Beck (2000) 90, (2005) 269–70. Hence too the joke in Virg. Aen. 6.845–46: quo fessum rapitis, Fabii? tu Maximus ille es,/ unus qui nobis cunctando restituis rem.

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3. THE FABII VIBULANI AND THE CONCORD OF THE STATE 1. The Fabii Vibulani (485–479 BC) The Fabii do not appear in the literary tradition of republican Rome until 485 BC, but when they do finally appear, they appear in force. Each year, from 485 to 479, one of the two consuls was, according to tradition, a Fabius. These consulships were shared in turn by three brothers, Q. Fabius Vibulanus, K. Fabius Vibulanus and M. Fabius Vibulanus, the sons of a certain Kaeso.38 The events of these years, and the several consulships of the Fabii, require close treatment, for they are frequently discussed, but rarely in detail. Several important themes pertinent to the gens can be found in the sources, and in Livy’s account in particular. In 485 two Fabii held office. Q. Fabius Vibulanus was consul with Ser. Cornelius Maluginensis, while his brother K. Fabius Vibulanus was quaestor. Kaeso’s colleague was L. Valerius. It was in this year that Sp. Cassius was tried and condemned on charges of perduellio. The fullest account of Cassius’ demise is given by Dionysius whose narrative very clearly incorporates elements drawn from a postGracchan source.39 There were evidently two main versions of events, and Dionysius sets forth both. In the first, Cassius was brought before the people by the quaestors; he was charged, tried and then executed. After that, his house was demolished. In the second, it was Cassius’ father who, in private, tried his son and then put him to death.40 These two versions, it would appear, could be combined: Cicero, in his De re publica, has Cassius accused by a quaestor, but condemned on the evidence given by his father.41 K. Fabius Vibulanus was one of the quaestors in this year. His participation in these events, however, is not intrinsic, especially given the variation in the tradition, and F. Münzer was almost certainly correct when he suggested that Kaeso’s involvement is an artificial element grafted onto the tradition concerning Sp. Cassi38

39 40 41

They are RE 164, 159, 160 and 158 respectively; MRR I, 21–25. Brothers: Livy 2.42.7, 2.46.6, 2.47.10–11; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.77.1, 8.82.5, 9.11.3, 9.13.3–4, 9.14.1, 9.16.3, 9.22.5, 9.59.1; for their father, see Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.83.1, 8.87.2, 8.90.5; Münzer (1909) 1873 calls him the ‘Stammvater’, but this is not certain. Sources in MRR I, 22; cf. Gabba (2000) 129–39; Ogilvie (1965) 339; Forsythe (1994) 298–99 on the Gracchan influences. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.77.1–79.4; the two traditions were noted also by Livy 2.41.10–11, and can be found in Val. Max. 5.8.2, 6.3.1b. Cic. Rep. 2.60. Pace Ogilvie (1965) 338–39 who believes that Cicero’s version (which Ogilvie argues came from Pictor, but that is far from certain; Cicero’s phrase ut audistis suggests that no specific source should be sought: the details of the story were common knowledge) is the earliest, and that the two separate traditions derived from it, because (339) ‘research… revealed a legal contradiction – a prosecution by a quaestor being terminated by the father acting on his own authority’. But Ogilvie’s legal contradiction is scarcely a contradiction at all; the natural reading of Cicero’s account (which Ogilvie abridges and thus distorts) is that Sp. Cassius was accused by a certain quaestor and then, having been found guilty on the evidence presented by his father, was put to death by that same quaestor with the people’s consent. There is nothing to suggest that the father acted ‘on his own authority’; the father merely revealed his son’s guilt.

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us.42 It was supposed that Sp. Cassius had been tried by a quaestor; in some versions, this quaestor was given a colleague, perhaps in an attempt to bring the tale into compliance with presumed historical reality (on the assumption that Cassius’ trial would have been conducted by duoviri perduellionis);43 and, although it was possible to leave the prosecutor(s) unidentified (as Cicero does in his account), names may have been deemed desirable, if only to add detail, and to give the tradition a firm historical context and thus confer upon it greater historical legitimacy. The assertion that a Fabius was involved would not have been unjustifiable, given the supposed dominance of the family in the tradition of the following years.44 However, from the outset the patrician status of the Fabii receives some emphasis, and the Fabii are presented as persistent supporters of the patrician order. The involvement of K. Fabius in the demise of Sp. Cassius, who could be presented as an aspiring demagogue, a champion of the oppressed plebs, is not without further significance. The role of K. Fabius in this event was not forgotten.45 Dionysius follows his account of the trial and execution of Sp. Cassius with a notice of further domestic conflict, this time regarding land distribution. The champions of the aristocracy grew more overbearing, he says, and the people were further repressed, for the consuls, that is Q. Fabius and Ser. Cornelius (although Dionysius does not name them), did not establish a decemvirate for the allocation of land in accordance with senatorial decree. This led to civil unrest. The tribunes attempted to demand compliance from the consuls, but with no success. Enemy incursions into Roman territory provided a pretext for war, and the war, a distraction from civil proceedings. Initially the people refused to enlist, but relented for fear that Ap. Claudius would be appointed dictator.46 All this may be more relevant to the downfall of Sp. Cassius than it is to the Fabii, but the fact that one of the consuls involved was a Fabius fits extremely well with the trends that are discernable in the tradition of this and the following few years. The Fabii were no benefactors of the people.47 Moreover, the Senate’s broken promise of land reform reappears in Di42

43 44 45 46 47

Münzer (1909) 1873; Münzer’s argument is supported by the unexpected involvement of a Valerius (Kaeso’s colleague), for the Valerii are usually depicted as the people’s champions. Staveley (1983) 47, Drummond (1989) 184 and Richard (1990) 182 associate the story of Sp. Cassius’ demise with the series of seven consulships held by the Fabii, but their argument requires that both are historical, when it is likely that neither is. Cf. Ogilvie (1965) 339, 344–45; Latte (1936) 26. Cf. Münzer (1909) 1873: ‘In Wahrheit dürfte er zu den spätesten Bestandteilen der Cassiusgeschichte gehören, und besonders die Namen der Quaestoren sind gewiß einfach den Consularfasten der beiden folgenden Jahre entlehnt’; cf. also Gabba (2000) 145. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.3.1, cf. 9.1.1, 8.82.5; note also Val. Max. 9.3.5; L. Valerius was also hated for his part in Cassius’ downfall: Livy 2.42.7; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.87.2, 8.89.3. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.81.1–4. Pace Ogilvie (1965) 346 who argues that the structure of Livy’s narrative runs: ‘The plebs agitate for the law [i. e. the passing of land reform legislation]: the patres resist: the Fabii attempt unavailingly to reconcile the two sides and restore Concordia (47.12): a sudden invasion saves the day’; Ogilvie’s selective referencing is misleading: 2.47.12 refers to events at the end of 480, at which point Livy has only just narrated the reconciliation of the Fabii with the plebs, a result of M. Fabius’ policy as consul in that year. The structure is rather: the plebs agitates for

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onysius’ narrative of subsequent years. It was apparently the cause of further civil unrest and further hostility towards the Fabii. Livy states explicitly that a great odium became attached to the Fabian name in 485 on account of the actions of Q. Fabius the consul,48 for while Quintus campaigned successfully against the Volsci and the Aequi, he, and Livy implies in collusion with the Senate, sold the booty (either himself, or as Dionysius believed, through the agency of the quaestors, one of whom was his brother Kaeso) and deposited the proceeds in the treasury.49 On account of this deed, the Fabii fell into great disrepute with the plebs; yet, because they were the champions of the patricians, they were able to secure the election of K. Fabius as consul for the following year. Indeed, K. Fabius’ election is presented as a victory for his order.50 Dionysius provides further details: the patres had observed the unhappiness of the people, who regretted their role in the trial and execution of Sp. Cassius, and were fearful that the people might attempt to elevate a demagogue to office. Instead, in disgust at the blatant display of patrician dominance exhibited by the election of K. Fabius and L. Aemilius, Dionysius states, the plebs boycotted the Campus and the elections altogether.51 Livy claims that the ensuing sedition led to the Volscian and Aequian uprising in 484.52 However, that the oppressively pro-patrician status of the gens Fabia and the concomitant hostility of the plebeians are themes developed here by some historians but evidently not by others is revealed later, when Dionysius narrates the re-election of Q. Fabius to the consulship: the people conceded to this because he had inflicted no ills upon them during his previous term.53 The civil strife which arose as a result of the election of K. Fabius as consul is presented by Livy as the cause of the insurrection amongst the Volsci and the Aequi. The threat that this posed however precluded further sedition; the two orders united and, with L. Aemilius in command, engaged the enemy and put down the uprising.54 In all this, K. Fabius played no part. In fact, Livy does not mention Kaeso’s campaign at all; Dionysius is the only source of any evidence concerning this, although even he furnishes no details.55 Livy also records a further attempt by the people to pass land reform legislation; the patres opposed this and, with the aid of

48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

land reform; the Fabii lead the patrician resistance; internal discord ensues, and this often prompts the enemy to take up arms; the need to defend Roman and allied territory prevents further strife; only later do the Fabii become the champions of concordia. Livy 2.42.2 (quoted in n. 50 below); this comment may confirm that the involvement of Kaeso in the prosecution of Sp. Cassius is indeed a later addition. Livy 2.42.1–2; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.82.1–4. Livy 2.42.2: invisum erat Fabium nomen plebi propter novissimum consulem; tenuere tamen patres ut cum L. Aemilio K. Fabius consul crearetur; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.82.4–5. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.82.4–6. Livy 2.42.3. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.90.5–6. Livy 2.42.3–4. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.84.1: the allotment of provinces; 8.87.1: Fabius left his camp to return to Rome to hold the elections; cf. also Diod. 11.40.5.

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the consuls, the proposal was quashed.56 That Livy is here pursuing the theme of the Fabii as malefactors of the plebs, presumably in accordance with his source, is again revealed by Dionysius who states that there was no civil discord in 484; external threats precluded it in its entirety;57 and Dionysius makes no mention of any attempt at land reform in this year. Dionysius’ account of the military action of 484 appears to contain themes pertinent to the gens Fabia. The army of L. Aemilius, contrary to what Livy claims, fared poorly against the Volscians, and Aemilius soon found himself in trouble.58 Fabius planned to go to the aid of his colleague, but was prevented from doing so on account of prohibiting auspices; instead, he settled for dispatching some of his best troops to relieve Aemilius.59 Concern and respect for the auspices and the gods on the part of a Fabius is a theme made famous by Fabius Verrucosus, most conspicuously in 217 after the defeat of C. Flaminius at Trasimene,60 and the rescue of a colleague by a Fabius is similarly evocative of Verrucosus and his celebrated rescue of Minucius Rufus in that same year. The recurrence of both these parallels in subsequent years serves to support the idea that, rather than being merely coincidental, they are due to the Roman tendency to assume that members of the same gens behave in similar ways. These parallels are therefore either a product of direct intervention in the tradition at a date subsequent to 217, or are evidence that the tradition of events in 484 was created after 217. Livy presents the election of M. Fabius Vibulanus to the consulship for 483 as yet another victory for the patres, as does Dionysius.61 However Livy immediately follows this up with an extremely vague and ambiguous notice. There was conflict with the tribunes in this year, although about what, Livy does not say; the events of the preceding year may suggest land reform. Whatever the tribunes’ proposal was, nothing came of it, Livy states, and its supporters soon fell from favour. In contrast the Fabii now found themselves held in high regard, and for the next four years the honour of the consulship was bestowed upon the clan.62 This tradition of apparent rehabilitation is absent from Dionysius’ account of 483. Since Livy’s account is so sparse any explanation must remain conjectural, but given the context and the role of the Fabii in preceding years, it may not be unreasonable to suggest that it may have been through opposition to land reform legislation that they were supposed to have won repute, and Dionysius’ account may support this for he tells of conflict with the people over land reform.63 The idea of an unpopular policy which is supported by the Fabii to their detriment, but which – presumably – turns out in the end to be sound and of great benefit to the state, thus 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63

Livy 2.42.6–7. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.83.1–4. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.84.1–86.9; compare Livy 2.42.3–4. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.86.7–8. See section 8 below on the piety of the Fabii. Livy 2.42.7; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.87.1. Livy 2.42.8. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.87.3–8; 8.88.1–89.3 is Dionysius’ account of L. Valerius’ campaign; Dionysius says nothing about Fabius’ activities.

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bringing redemption to its supporters, possibly calls to mind Fabius Verrucosus’ policy of delay and its initial unpopularity (and, note, with the tribunes too). Ennius’ famous verses about Verrucosus are relevant here as well, for Ennius also says that Fabius put safety ahead of public opinion.64 This is certainly a theme which can be found elsewhere, and that this is a theme, one perhaps developed by Livy or, more likely, carried over from his source, is again revealed when Dionysius not only records electoral difficulties at the year’s end but also further conflict over the allotment of land in the following year; indeed Livy himself is soon once again relating tales of domestic conflict over land distribution.65 More significantly, Dionysius continues to assert that the Fabii not only remained unpopular with the plebs but also remained the champions of the patricians, and in contradiction to his own comments, Livy soon does so again too.66 The very idea that the Fabii were, from the outset, opposed to the distribution of land may also owe something to the career of Fabius Verrucosus, for in his day land distribution had been an issue. C. Flaminius, when he was tribune of the plebs, had proposed that land in Gaul be divided up and allocated to the people. According to tradition (which is hostile to him), Flaminius carried his measure despite strong senatorial opposition, and with unfortunate consequences.67 Significantly Cicero says that Fabius Verrucosus, who was consul at the time, opposed Flaminius and his bill, but that his colleague, Sp. Carvilius, did not assist him in this opposition.68 If earlier members of the gens Fabia also opposed the distribution of land (despite their colleagues), it is consequently quite conceivable that they were said to have done so simply because Fabius Verrucosus had been a prominent opponent of such a measure, and had been so within living memory of Rome’s first historians. That is, Verrucosus may have provided the historical model for Fabian opposition to land reform, a model which later historians may have copied and adapted in the effort to produce a plausible narrative of the political activities of Verrucosus’ early ancestors. According to the tradition Dionysius follows, there was some considerable conflict surrounding the elections for 482. Livy, on the other hand, having only just 64 65 66 67 68

Enn. Ann. fr. 363 Skutsch: unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem./ noenum rumores ponebat ante salutem; e. g., Plut. Fab. 5, 7.2–3, 8.3–4 (note esp. the arguments of the tribune Metilius), 17.3–5, 19.3–4. See also section 2 above. Electoral difficulties: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.90.1–6 (interreges: MRR I, 23; Broughton places these under 482; they were responsible for the election of the consuls for that year); agitation for land reform: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.91.3, 9.1.3–2.2, 9.5.1; Livy 2.43.1, 2.43.3–4, 2.44.1–6. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.90.5–6, 9.1.1, 9.3.1–4.3; cf. Livy 2.43.6–11. Polyb. 2.21.7–8, on which, see Walbank (1957) 192–93; Cic. Inv. 2.52, Acad. 2.13, Brut. 57, Leg. 3.20, on which, cf. Dyck (2004) 496–97; Livy 21.63.2; Val. Max. 5.4.5; note also Cato fr. 43P = fr. 2.14 Chassignet (= Varro Rust. 1.2.7). Cic. Sen. 11: qui consul [Q. Fabius] iterum Sp. Carvilio conlega quiescente C. Flaminio tribuno plebis, quoad potuit, restitit agrum Picentem et Gallicum viritim contra senatus auctoritatem dividenti. Cicero’s chronology is different from Polybius’; on this matter see Walbank (1957) 192; MRR I, 225 and n. 1; Feig Vishnia (1996) with discussion of earlier arguments, but on which see Dyck (2004) 497 n. 65; indeed, Feig Vishnia’s own argument is not persuasive.

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claimed that the Fabii were enjoying great popularity, records no difficulties. The senators, Dionysius states, wanted Ap. Claudius to be elected, but the plebs, who loathed the Claudii, had its own favourites. Whenever the consuls attempted to convene the centuries, the tribunes intervened, and vice versa; some in the Senate favoured the appointment of a dictator, but others successfully organised an interregnum. This resulted in the appointment of Q. Fabius to his second consulship with C. Iulius Iullus as his colleague.69 The fact that the conflict stemmed from popular fear of the gens Claudia suggests that a source more interested in the presentation of the patrician Claudii could very well be behind Dionysius’ narrative; perhaps Livy, whose narrative of these years is highly condensed, has either omitted this episode as contradictory to his comments about Fabian popularity at this date, for in it Q. Fabius is presented, like Ap. Claudius, as a member of the aristocratic party,70 or perhaps he was simply following a different source, presumably the same one from which he took the notice of Fabian popularity. Similarly, Livy records no difficulties for the election of K. Fabius and Sp. Furius as consuls for 481; Dionysius, in contrast, notes minor conflict which was resolved with a compromise: the election of K. Fabius, the Senate’s choice, and Sp. Furius, the people’s, as the consuls.71 It would appear that Livy is still following the same source as the one he used for his story about the rise to popularity of the gens Fabia. From 2.42.8 to 2.43.2 Livy (unlike Dionysius) gives no details concerning domestic strife, and the Fabii are treated positively, or at least neutrally; from 2.43.3 onwards, however, domestic strife returns and is narrated by Livy in comparative detail; and, along with this strife, the hostility of the plebs towards the gens Fabia also soon resurfaces.72 The tribune who provoked this conflict in 481 was, according to Livy, Sp. Licinius. His attempt to force through land reform legislation failed, for his colleagues did not support him, but rather assisted the consuls in conducting the levy.73 Dionysius includes a speech by Ap. Claudius in which Appius advised the Senate on how to play the tribunes off against one another so that their power would be neutralised. Livy has the same speech, but places it in the following year, for both he and Dionysius record further agitation for land reform in 480, this time organised by a certain Tiberius Pontificius.74 69 70 71 72

73 74

Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.90.1–6. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.90.5. Livy 2.43.1; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.1.1. Livy 2.42.8: Fabii rise to a reputable position; 2.42.8–9: war with Veii and the Volsci; 2.42.10– 11: series of portents indicating divine wrath; Vestal punished for unchaste behaviour; 2.43.1: election of new consuls; eo anno non segnior discordia domi et bellum foris atrocius fuit (no further information is given); arms taken up by Aequi, and Veientes raid Roman territory; 2.43.2: election of K. Fabius and Sp. Furius. Livy 2.43.3–4; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.2.1–3 (giving the tribune a different name). Speech of Appius: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.1.4–5; Livy 2.44.2–4. Tiberius Pontificius: Livy 2.44.1–6; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.5.1; cf. Münzer (1909) 1875: ‘der Name des Tribunen, Tib. Pontificius, ist auffällig und macht die Erzählung hier noch besonders verdächtig’. The name is, at any rate, proof that Livy and Dionysius are here following the same tradition.

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In their accounts of the events of 481 both Dionysius and Livy bring to the fore an issue only vaguely referred to in preceding years. Hitherto domestic discord had been halted by military expediency, but in this year it spilled over onto the battlefield and found expression in disobedience and mutiny. There was an early suggestion of this in 483: Livy comments that resources were squandered because of quarrelling, while Dionysius records rumour of a reluctance to fight on the part of the soldiers under the command of L. Valerius, on account of Valerius’ role in the demise of Sp. Cassius.75 In 482 Dionysius again mentions a threat of discord.76 In 481, however, the theme is developed openly and at length, and in both Livy and Dionysius the discord centres around K. Fabius, the man who, as quaestor, had charged and tried Sp. Cassius. It is almost as if the theme has been held in check,77 in anticipation of Kaeso’s consulship. There are textual difficulties in Livy concerning the allocation of provinces for 481, but the identity of the enemy is unimportant. Of considerable importance, however, is a comment which Livy makes about K. Fabius’ role as commander. Livy declares that that one man, the consul himself, preserved the state which the army on account of its hatred of the consul would, as much as it could, have betrayed (unus ille vir, ipse consul, rem publicam sustinuit, quam exercitus odio consulis, quantum in se fuit, prodebat). The allusion to Ennius’ famous line about Verrucosus (unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem) can hardly be missed.78 The several parallels are just too blatant. yet, while Livy’s comment must inevitably be seen as honorific, the significance of the allusion to Fabius Verrucosus is not at all obvious.79 While it is possible that this may be evidence of nothing more than the automatic and indeed unthinking application of one of the essential elements of the model of behaviour which Verrucosus’ career provided, it is equally possible that later events may offer something of an explanation for Livy’s presentation of Kaeso’s campaign. In the meantime, it is sufficient to note that this shows that the tradition has been embellished at some stage subsequent to the career of Verrucosus (and the career of Ennius), and conceivably in this instance by Livy himself. K. Fabius was a Fabius, and so perhaps inevitably he, as one man alone, could be supposed to have preserved the state, as Fabius Verrucosus had done. 75 76 77

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Livy 2.42.9 (but with no details); Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.89.3. On the depiction of L. Valerius, and on his involvement in Sp. Cassius’ downfall, cf. nn. 42 and 44 above. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.91.3. Note Dionysius’ account of Valerius’ campaign in 483 (Ant. Rom. 8.88.2–89.3): the commanders of both armies long adopted defensive tactics; eventually an inconclusive battle took place, after which neither side offered battle again; but insubordination in Valerius’ camp was only rumoured. Livy 2.43.6. Ogilvie (1965) 351 notes only the parallel with Livy’s obituary notice for Q. Fabius Verrucosus (30.26.9), where Livy again adapts Ennius’ line; Oakley (1997) 99; Santoro L’Hoir (1990) 231–32. Santoro L’Hoir (1990) 231 says: ‘As R. M. Ogilvie observes [a charitable comment, since Ogilvie does not observe this], the tribulations of K. Fabius foreshadow those of Q. Fabius, who, despite the hostility of his own troops, rem restituisse’. The difficulty is, Kaeso did not rem publicam sustinuit in any obvious way.

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Livy, like Dionysius, offers praise specifically for K. Fabius’ generalship in 481, but states that his efforts were in vain for the people so hated him that they would not obey his orders and so refused to pursue their fleeing enemy, routed after a single well planned cavalry charge.80 Instead, the soldiers returned to camp, and when K. Fabius found himself unable to rally them, he had no alternative but to lead them home.81 Dionysius gives essentially the same account. He adds the additional detail that some attempted to hail Fabius as imperator, but were shouted down, and also that Fabius’ soldiers returned to Rome so unexpectedly that those defending the city’s walls initially feared that they were the enemy; it was only with the onset of day that the soldiers were recognised.82 More significant, perhaps, is the variant found in Zonaras: the unexpected and clamorous arrival of Fabius’ army at Rome actually led to an attack by the Etruscans (incongruously, in the following year).83 This may perhaps recall Livy 2.42.3: civil discord attended the election of K. Fabius as consul for 484 and this prompted an uprising amongst the Volsci and Aequi. Zonaras’ account, however, is both severely truncated and slightly confused. It is in 480, in the second consulship of M. Fabius, that the theme of plebeian hostility towards the Fabii finally reaches its conclusion in Livy’s narrative. Livy had earlier claimed, in his account of 483 when M. Fabius was consul for the first time, that the Fabii had finally won the esteem of the plebs, but by the time he came to relate the events of 481 he had reverted to the tradition of plebeian hostility towards the gens Fabia, and so he presents the election of M. Fabius as consul for 480 as an achievement of the patres.84 In contrast, Dionysius’ narrative displays greater uniformity: the Fabii were the continuing champions of the patrician order. In both Livy’s and Dionysius’ narratives of 480, the consuls embarked upon their campaign, against an enemy seeking to capitalise on the internal strife at Rome, with great trepidation, lest the plebeians repeated their mutinous deeds of the previous year.85 When in hostile territory, therefore, they refused to give battle, remained in their camp and forced their army to endure the enemy’s taunts. This policy proved to be successful, and before long the soldiers were keen to fight and seek vengeance for the insults they had received. That M. Fabius was the instigator 80 81 82 83

84 85

Praise: Livy 2.43.7, 2.43.10; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.3.1. Disobedience and insubordination: Livy 2.43.8–9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.3.1–5; Val. Max. 9.3.5. Livy 2.43.11; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.3.4–4.1; Zon. 7.17. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.3.4, 9.4.1–2. Zon. 7.17: a0lla\ kai\ to\ strato/pedon e0klipo/ntej ei0j th\n po/lin h]lqon kai\ e0qoru/boun, e3wj oi9 Turshnoi\ tou=to maqo/ntej e0pexei/rhsan au0toi=j. That the battle took place in the following year is revealed when Zonaras claims that, during the engagement, the consul Manlius was killed. Manlius was consul, and died, in 480; cf. MRR I, 24. Zonaras’ account is confused, for after this, he adds that the people elected Manlius for the third time, but he must mean that the people elected K. Fabius, who was consul III in 479. Livy 2.43.11. Livy 2.45.1; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.5.5. At 2.44.7–12 Livy crosses the lines to give the Etruscans’ assessment of Rome’s situation: they believed that civil discord had sundered the state, and they were confident that victory would be attainable now that discipline was lacking in Rome’s army.

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of this strategy is implied by the speech given to him by both Livy and Dionysius,86 and for this reason Frontinus’ summation of events is especially significant. He says that the consuls M. Fabius and Cn. Manlius, when sedition in the army prevented it from fighting, simulated a policy of delay (simulaverunt cunctationem) until the soldiers, provoked by the enemy’s taunts, demanded battle, and swore that they would return victoriously. Frontinus’ vocabulary is immediately evocative of Fabius Verrucosus.87 It shows unequivocally that Frontinus (or his source perhaps), when he related this episode involving M. Fabius, had Verrucosus’ career in mind, and it shows too that he assumed that other Fabii must have behaved as Verrucosus had done. Verrucosus represented for Frontinus, here at least, the model for Fabian behaviour; as a consequence, it was plausible to suppose that other Fabii had behaved as he. It was, therefore, perfectly reasonable to claim that M. Fabius had secured victory in 480 by employing a policy of delay.88 Livy brings his theme of plebeian animosity towards the gens Fabia near to its climax in his narrative of the ensuing battle with the Etruscans, for it was not so much the delaying tactics employed in this year which caused the popular rehabilitation of the gens Fabia, as it was the exploits of the brothers Quintus, Kaeso and Marcus in the battle itself.89 The three Fabii were so prominent in the engagement, Livy states, that when Quintus was killed, the repercussions were felt by both sides, and the Romans hesitated; Marcus, jumping to the defence of his fallen brother’s body, attempted to spur the soldiers on, but Kaeso informed him that words would be insufficient, that they must motivate the soldiers with deeds, deeds appropriate to the patrician status of the Fabii and to the name Fabius itself. With that, they both rushed forward, carrying the Roman line with them.90 On the other wing, Manlius the consul was similarly leading from the front when he too was struck down by the enemy. Again, the Romans wavered, but again Marcus rallied them, rushing to inform them that Manlius was wounded but not dead, and when Manlius returned to the battle, the soldiers’ fervour was rekindled.91 While these events happened out on the field, the Roman camp was infiltrated by a detachment of enemy soldiers. 86 87 88

89 90 91

Livy 2.45.2–16; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.5.5–10.6; Fabius’ speech: Livy 2.45.12–13; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.9.1–9. Fabius’ colleague was a Manlius and, as Feeney (2010) 211 notes, there may also be a hint of Manlian severity in Livy’s account. Frontin. Strat. 1.11.1. Livy’s vocabulary is no less suggestive of Verrucosus’ policy: 2.45.7: remorando, 2.45.12: tergiversantur, 2.46.2: mora. Livy’s comment about K. Fabius (2.43.6: unus ille vir, ipse consul, rem publicam sustinuit) may have been much better deployed here. Ogilvie (1965) 355 finds another link to the Second Punic War in the oath which the soldiers supposedly swore at this time (Livy 2.45.13–14; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.10.2–4); the link is tenuous, and any connection with Fabius Verrucosus circumstantial; even if Ogilvie were correct, the episode, apparently concerned with providing a precedent for an oath sworn in 216, may not therefore be a part of the presentation of M. Fabius or his brothers. It would, however, be further proof that the tradition has been modified in the light of much later events. Livy 2.45.16. Livy 2.46.4–7 (note the ‘one man’, unius viri at 2.46.5; Santoro L’Hoir [1990] 231); Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.11.2–5; cf. also Oros. 2.5.7. Livy 2.47.1–4; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.11.5–6; Manlius did not return to the battle in Dionysius’ account; the Roman right was saved by the Fabii alone.

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Manlius returned to the camp, but was killed.92 The enemy however soon fled from the Roman camp, only to stumble into M. Fabius, the other consul now returning from the field.93 Upon his return to Rome, the Senate offered Marcus a triumph, but, with his family in mourning for Quintus, and with his colleague dead, he deemed it inappropriate. Livy comments that his refusal won him more prestige than any triumph could.94 In its basic outlines, Dionysius’ account of these events agrees with Livy’s. Dionysius does however add a prominent religious element,95 and his account of the battle itself is given a more technical quality and so inevitably the heroic, Homeric aspect of Livy’s narrative is absent.96 Thus, for example, Quintus was killed while commanding the left wing, and when Marcus rescued the body of his brother, he did so not alone, but with a detachment of picked troops. There are further discrepancies too. After Manlius was slain, it was M. Fabius who led the attempt to drive the enemy from the Roman camp, and the battle itself continued after the camp had been recaptured. But the most remarkable difference occurs at the year’s end. M. Fabius stepped down as consul two months before the end of his term as he was confined to bed by a wound suffered during the engagement. This led to an interregnum.97 The absence of this last detail in Livy’s narrative is perhaps explicable. Livy emphasises that the deeds of the Fabii in this year facilitated their reconciliation with the plebs.98 He adds that, having returned to Rome, M. Fabius billeted the plebeian wounded with patrician families, and especially with his own, where they received the most tender care. This, Livy states, he did as part of his policy of winning the affections of the plebeians, a policy which he apparently implemented with success.99 It is, moreover, conceivable that this sort of behaviour came to be deemed characteristic of the Fabii thanks to the actions of Fabius Verrucosus, who was said to have displayed similar care and attention to the soldiery of Rome. When the Senate refused to pay the money required to ransom Roman prisoners of war from Hannibal, Verrucosus sold his own farm to raise the necessary funds, and paid the ransom himself.100 92 Livy 2.47.4–9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.12.1–6; cf. also Oros. 2.5.7. 93 So Livy 2.47.9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.12.3–13.1: Manlius was killed trying to recover the camp; M. Fabius then left the battle with a group of men, recaptured the camp, and returned to the battle. 94 Livy 2.47.10–11; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.13.4; Oros. 2.5.7. 95 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.6.1–7: the Romans initially established two camps, but when the camp of Cn. Manlius was struck by lightning, Manlius abandoned it and joined M. Fabius in his camp; the Etruscans summoned the aid of their augurs to interpret this omen. 96 Ogilvie (1965) 353–57 notes a number of Homeric parallels in Livy’s narrative; he argues that the battle is presented as a battle of champions, and that there is ‘much in common with the account of Lake Regillus’. For the battle of Lake Regillus, see Ogilvie (1965) 285–89. 97 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.13.4–14.1. 98 Livy 2.45.16, 2.47.12. 99 Livy 2.47.12. 100 Livy 22.23.5–8; Val. Max. 3.8.2, 4.8.1; Plut. Fab. 7.3–5, comp. Per. et Fab. 3.3; Dio fr. 56.15, 56.35; De vir. ill. 43.7; cf. also Frontin. Strat. 1.8.2.

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The care and attention that M. Fabius was said to have devoted to the wounded soldiers had the desired effect. Accordingly, when the elections came around, Livy claims that the people readily elected K. Fabius consul. In Dionysius’ account, where the tradition of reconciliation is absent, K. Fabius was made consul by an unnamed interrex.101 Livy opens his account of 479 with an unexpected claim. The Fabii, once bitter foes of the plebs and champions of the patrician order, have now managed to reconcile themselves with the people. That reconciliation has resulted in the enthusiastic election of K. Fabius, the man who, according to Livy, had been responsible for the trial and execution of Sp. Cassius, the man whose very election as consul for 484 had led to sedition, and the man who as consul had opposed land reform in 484 and again in 481. But now, in 479, Livy claims, it was this very same man who proposed that the Senate fairly allocate captured land to the people. Apparently he suggested that the Senate do this for the sake of harmony, and before one of the tribunes took the initiative himself.102 Although the senators mocked the proposal and it was discarded, the reversal of policy on the part of the Fabii, and K. Fabius in particular, could not be more complete. The absence of this episode in Dionysius’ narrative may offer a clue to its interpretation. While Dionysius clearly followed a similar tradition to Livy for his narrative of these years, he did not find, or, if he did, he chose not to follow, the tradition of a reconciliation between the Fabii and the plebs. In contrast, although Livy claimed that the rift between the gens Fabia and the people was healed in each of the two consulships of M. Fabius, it was only in the second that he developed this idea in full. There is, in any case, a conspicuous pattern: 485 Q. Fabius cos. I 484 K. Fabius cos. I 483 M. Fabius cos. I

The Fabii are reconciled with the plebs.

482 Q. Fabius cos. II 481 K. Fabius cos. II 480 M. Fabius cos. II

The Fabii are reconciled with the plebs.103

It is after the second reconciliation that Livy records the proposal of land reform by K. Fabius, and it may be that Kaeso’s proposal is simply a part of the tradition of reconciliation in 480. There are, however, other possible explanations for this quite obviously unhistorical story (for what record would have been kept of a proposal rejected during a meeting of the Senate in the early fifth century?). The first of these explanations is the more conjectural. In 483 Livy records, in a somewhat ambiguous manner, that the Fabii won favour and were henceforth allowed to retain the consulship. The context of this no101 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.14.1. 102 Livy 2.48.1–4. 103 In 483 the reconciliation, which is only implied by Livy, took place domi (Livy 2.42.8), in 480 (Livy 2.45.16, 2.47.12) largely, but not entirely, militiae. Other differences too between the two groups make the repetition less obvious, but it is noteworthy nonetheless.

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tice in Livy’s text may imply that the catalyst for this change was opposition to land reform, and Dionysius’ account seems to support this. As suggested, this may possibly be evocative of Fabius Verrucosus’ policy of delay, which was likewise initially unpopular, but later came to be the basis of his fame. If so, the subsequent proposal of land reform by Kaeso may perhaps in some way represent a continuation of that idea and may be a remnant of the same presentation. That is, perhaps, the Fabii were not opposed to land reform per se, but wanted to ensure that any reform that did take place was delayed until a more opportune time. It should be noted however that there is nothing explicit in the tradition to support this interpretation. On the one hand, while the military situation in 479 scarcely makes this year seem any more suitable than 483 for land reform, on the other, Livy comments that Kaeso made his proposal with the express purpose of securing concord. During Kaeso’s previous consulship, political discord, which had been carried out into the field, had brought his campaign to a premature end. This naturally leads to the second possible explanation for this story: the interest in concord which K. Fabius was said to have displayed introduces for the first time a theme which recurs in numerous later episodes, and which will be discussed shortly. The Fabii are often presented as having an interest in preserving the concordia ordinum, and as putting the needs of the state before everything else. The campaigning season of 479 began, and Kaeso’s colleague T. Verginius soon found himself in difficulties. This was, Livy says, on account of his rashness, and Verginius’ army, Livy claims, would have been destroyed had not Kaeso come to his rescue.104 Dionysius narrates the episode in some greater detail.105 In his account, the Veientes attacked while Verginius’ soldiers were dispersed, out looting; their plight was initially alleviated by the legate T. Siccius, whose arrival with additional forces allowed the Romans to regroup on a hilltop. They were soon surrounded, however, and trapped, and a lack of provisions forced Verginius to give battle. It was at this moment that Fabius arrived. Earlier, in his account of 484, Dionysius had credited Kaeso with the rescue of the army of L. Aemilius. Now, for a second time, Kaeso rescues his colleague, as Fabius Verrucosus later rescued his. Once may not have been especially noteworthy, but twice is highly suspicious. There can be little doubt that the tradition has been tampered with, and to some considerable extent, or was simply devised at some point after the Hannibalic War, and in light of the events of that war. It may be worth noting as well that the very vocabulary Livy chose to employ in his narrative of Verginius’ disastrous campaign is evocative of Minucius’. For, as with Minucius, it was Verginius’ temeritas which was the cause of his troubles.106

104 Livy 2.48.5. 105 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.14.2–6. 106 Livy 2.48.5: at a Veiente hoste clades accepta temeritate alterius consulis, actumque de exercitu foret, ni K. Fabius in tempore subsidio venisset. Compare Livy 22.27.8: Q. Fabio haudquaquam id placere: omnia fortunam eam habitura quamcumque temeritas collegae habuisset;

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The evident desire to associate K. Fabius with Fabius Verrucosus may provide an explanation for Livy’s decision to adapt Ennius’ line and apply it to Kaeso during the latter’s consulship of 481. The desire to associate Kaeso with Verrucosus may very well have affected the entire presentation of Kaeso’s career, but that may in itself be an insufficient explanation for Livy’s decision. K. Fabius was not the only one of the three brothers to be associated with Verrucosus. A more precise explanation for Livy’s decision, it would seem, is needed. That explanation may perhaps be found in a further variant tradition. It was in this year, 479, that the Fabii embarked upon their great expedition to Cremera, to wage war against the Etruscans of Veii. In Dionysius’ narrative both Marcus and Kaeso proposed in the Senate that the resources of the gens Fabia be employed to guard Rome’s northern frontier against the Veientes, and both Marcus and Kaeso organised their forces, even though Dionysius explicitly says that Marcus was the leader of the expedition.107 In Livy, all this was done by Kaeso alone,108 and it is Livy who adapts Ennius’ line to Kaeso: unus ille vir, recalling unus homo. By making Kaeso the leader of the famous Fabian expedition, Livy inevitably turns him into one of the great Fabian generals. As a great Fabian general he must behave (or rather, must have behaved) accordingly, and that, it would appear, meant behaving like Fabius Verrucosus. Note as well that, in Livy’s account, when news of the proposed expedition to Cremera spread, the Fabii were ‘lauded to the heavens’, just as was Fabius Verrucosus when news that he had rescued Minucius Rufus reached Rome.109 2. The Fabii and the concord of the state This detailed analysis of the traditions of the events of 485–479 is necessary not only because several of the episodes certainly, and possibly some of the others, reveal the effect that the career of Fabius Verrucosus, and his policy of delay in particular, have had on the presentation of earlier members of his gens. It is also necessary because it introduces another important theme, one which crops up on several occasions in 22.28.2: nam et liberam Minuci temeritatem se suo modo captaturum; 22.29.1: [Fabius] ‘Ita est’ inquit; ‘non celerius quam timui deprendit fortuna temeritatem’. 107 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.15.2–3: oi9 du/o Fa/bioi… h9gei=to d’ au0tw=n Ma/rkoj Fa/bioj. 108 This variation was essentially discarded by Mommsen (1879) 252 n. 35: ‘Livius freilich 2,48. 49 und ebenso, vermuthlich nach ihm, die Schrift de viris ill. 14 machen den Consul Kaeso Fabius zum Führer des Zuges; was vielleicht nichts ist als eine nachlässige Zusammenfassung desselben Berichts, den wir bei Dionysios lesen’; Ogilvie (1965) 361: ‘It is more effective that the consul, K. Fabius, should command’; Richard (1990) 176 conflates: ‘C’est alors que, par la bouche du consul Kaeso (Liv. 2,49,9) ainsi que de son frère Marcus (Dion. Hal. 2,15,2), la gens Fabia aurait proposé au Sénat d’assumer à elle seule et privato sumptu la responsabilité et le poids du bellum Veiens’; although, cf. Richard (1990a) 249–51. The variant also appears in De vir. ill. 14.1, on this, cf. Fugmann (1997) 72–73 (this is ‘eine Version, die der Einstufung des Geschehens als Privatangelegenheit (coniuratio) widerspricht’); cf. Wiseman (1995a) 13 on the Kaesones of the gens Fabia. 109 Livy 2.49.1: Fabios ad caelum laudibus ferunt, 22.30.7: Maximum laudibus ad caelum ferre; Bernard (2000) 187.

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the traditions of these events and of events subsequent. This theme is the concern of the Fabii for concordia, especially concordia ordinum, and, alongside this, their concern for the welfare of the state and the damage that is done to it by internal division. Although the three brothers, Quintus, Kaeso and Marcus, are repeatedly presented in the tradition as the champions of the patrician cause, they begin to display an interest in (or perhaps learn the importance of)110 establishing and maintaining domestic harmony and concord between the orders. Although some later members of the gens are also presented on occasion as the champions of the patricians, the theme of the Fabii’s interest in concord appears frequently in the tradition. Firstly, there is Kaeso, whose concern for concord has been discussed already. While his brother Marcus was determined to reconcile his family with the plebs, Kaeso’s proposal of land distribution was designed to secure harmony in the state. Some years later, in 467, Q. Fabius Vibulanus was consul with Ti. Aemilius Mamercus.111 Aemilius had already demonstrated in his previous consulship, Livy says, that he was in favour of the distribution of land to the plebs. In 467 the tribunes sought to capitalise on this, to the consternation of the landowners, who were mostly patrician. The potentially explosive situation was defused, however, by Q. Fabius who proposed a measure that was agreeable to all, namely that a colony should be sent to Antium. Thus the plebs would be able to obtain land, and thus there would be concord in the state. Fabius’ proposal was implemented, and Fabius himself appointed the triumviri who were to distribute the territory in question.112 Events in 462 are similarly noteworthy for the role played by Q. Fabius Vibulanus in resolving domestic conflict. In this year, according to Livy, C. Terentilius Harsa, a tribune of the plebs, sought to pass a bill to define and curb the powers of the consuls. This provoked some considerable distress amongst the patricians, especially since both consuls were absent from the city. Q. Fabius, the praefectus urbi, then intervened and summoned the Senate. There, in a lengthy speech, he berated Terentilius and implored the other tribunes to bring their colleague’s plans to a halt. During the course of his speech Fabius argued that Terentilius’ actions were making the powers of the tribunes, which had been reconciled with the patres, hateful and intolerable once more. Livy concludes his narrative by stating that the matter, ostensibly deferred, had actually been quashed.113 But that conclusion is scarcely accurate, as further debate over Terentilius’ bill caused considerable discord and for a good many years to come.114 Livy’s claim that the matter was finished with in 462 110 Cf. Livy 2.44.7–12 on the dangers of discordia (mentioned explicitly at 2.44.7). 111 This Q. Fabius Vibulanus is RE 165. 112 Livy 3.1.1–6; 3.1.4: atrox certamen aderat, ni Fabius consilio neutri parti acerbo rem expedisset; 3.1.5: ita sine querellis possessorum plebem in agros ituram, civitatem in concordia fore. Comparison with Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.59.1–2 shows how Livy’s account focuses on Fabius (whose role is played by the Senate in Dionysius’ version) and on concord (according to Dionysius, the plebs was not pleased with the Senate’s proposal). 113 Livy 3.9.1–13; 3.9.13: agunt cum Terentilio tribuni, dilataque in speciem actione, re ipsa sublata, consules extemplo arcessiti. 114 The dispute resumes in Livy’s narrative at 3.10.2, and ultimately continues until the establishment of the decemvirate in 451.

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is not at all in accordance with his own narrative of subsequent events, and this may reveal that the story of Fabius’ successful intervention in that year is a late addition, that Livy changed his source, or that it was simply plausible to suppose that the intervention of a Fabius must have had harmonious results. Awkward though it is, the inconsistency certainly does serve (even if inadvertently) to emphasise Q. Fabius’ ability to preserve concord. In 406 N. Fabius Ambustus was consular tribune; his colleagues were P. and Cn. Cornelius Cossus and L. Valerius Potitus. In this year the Senate wished to declare war on Veii. The move was unpopular as the war with the Volsci had not yet been completed, and when the tribunes stirred up further discontent, the Senate was forced to postpone its plan. While Cn. Cornelius remained in Rome, the other consular tribunes set out against the Volsci. At first they campaigned separately. Fabius marched to Anxur, laid siege to the place and captured it; but he ordered his soldiers to leave the spoils untouched until his colleagues had come, for they, he said, by distracting the Volsci, had contributed to the capture of the town. As soon as P. Cornelius and L. Valerius had arrived, Anxur was plundered. This generosity of the commanders, Livy says, first reconciled the plebs with the patres. Although Livy refers to the commanders in the plural, his narrative focuses entirely on Fabius’ campaign, and it was Fabius who delayed the sack, so that all the soldiers might participate in the plundering.115 The Licinio-Sextian legislation, which was passed in 367, saw (among other things) the abolition of the consular tribunate and the restoration of the consulship; the legislation also saw the opening up of the consulate to the plebs. Thus, says Livy, after their long dispute the orders were finally reconciled.116 A temple of Concord was said to have been vowed and built in this same year too.117 This legislation which had brought an end to this stage of the conflict of the orders and which had established concord in the state had in fact been first proposed by M. Fabius Ambustus. It was he who had rallied C. Licinius Stolo and L. Sextius, and it was he who was the author of the legislation, the passing of which Licinius and Sextius had only overseen.118 Q. Fabius Rullianus was censor in 304. According to Livy, as censor Rullianus confined the ‘Forum crowd’ to the four urban tribes, and he did this, Livy says, for the sake of concord, and so that the humble people might not control the elections.119 Fabius Rullianus’ colleague in 304 was the plebeian P. Decius Mus, with 115 Livy 4.58.6–4.59.10; 4.59.10: qui ubi venerunt, oppidum vetere fortuna opulentum tres exercitus diripuere; eaque primum benignitas imperatorum plebem patribus conciliavit; but for Fabius’ role, cf. 4.59.8: a cetera praeda Fabius militem abstinuit, donec collegae venirent. 116 Livy 6.42.12. 117 Ovid Fast. 1.641–44; Plut. Cam. 42; discussion in Richardson (1992) 98–99; Wiseman (1995) 108, who argues that the theme of concordia derives in this instance from the history of Licinius Macer. 118 Livy 6.34.11, 6.36.7; for the domestic background to Fabius’ activities, see Livy 6.34.1–4. The story of Fabius Ambustus’ two daughters is discussed in detail in Chapter III, section 6. 119 Livy 9.46.14: Fabius simul concordiae causa, simul ne humillimorum in manu comitia essent, omnem forensem turbam excretam in quattuor tribus coniecit urbanasque eas appellavit. Note

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whom he shared a number of magistracies. On several occasions Livy has Fabius draw attention to this, and even request that P. Decius be elected alongside him. At the elections for 297, Fabius asked that Decius, with whom he had enjoyed concord while in office, be elected as his colleague;120 and, at the elections for 295, Fabius repeated his request. Nothing, he said, was better for the protection of the state than concord between colleagues in office. On this occasion L. Volumnius, the incumbent consul who was presiding over the elections, drew attention to the good things that came when there was concord between the consuls, and the bad things that came from discord.121 Although Fabius and Decius were said to have clashed in 295 over the allocation of provinces, this was, Livy says, due more to the conflict of the orders than to any quarrel between the two, and the disagreement did not last.122 Moreover, Livy notes that there was a variant tradition of these events, according to which there was no dispute between the consuls. They both simply set out together on campaign at the beginning of the year.123 There is one final episode which can be mentioned here.124 Although it does not involve the subject of concord, it illustrates well the concern of the Fabii to do away with internal division, however difficult that may be. In 325 BC Q. Fabius Rullianus clashed with the dictator L. Papirius Cursor. The story of their dispute is important and will be discussed in section 6 below. A decade and a half later, when the consul C. Marcius had been wounded in battle, the Senate wished to appoint L. Papirius Cursor as dictator once again. The problem was, the other consul, C. Marcius’ colleague, was Q. Fabius Rullianus. The Senate was aware that Rullianus had a private feud with Cursor, and so the senators decided to send a special embassy to him, to persuade him to put the good of the state ahead of personal enmity. And that, although it grieved him immensely, is precisely what Fabius Rullianus did. That very night he appointed Cursor dictator in accordance with the Senate’s request.125 Some time ago B. Combet Farnoux argued that the theme of the concordia ordinum, as it appears in the tradition of Rome’s early history, originated with the historian Fabius Pictor.126 A similar view appears to have been held by P. G. Walsh. Nearly a decade before Combet Farnoux’s paper appeared, Walsh wrote simply that ‘it is not fanciful to suppose that the activities of the gens Fabia, whose representatives show a similar unselfishness in the development of civic harmony, owe something to the embellishments of Fabius Pictor’.127 Although there is no direct evi-

120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127

that Fabius Verrucosus also held the censorship (in 230 BC), and that he too may have carried out measures which affected Rome’s assemblies, see Beck (2005) 277–80; although, on the significance of what Livy says about Fabius Rullianus at 9.46.14, see Richardson (forthcoming). Livy 10.13.12–13; note Oakley (2005a) 181 on Livy’s phrase consensu civitatis victus. Livy 10.22.2–7. Livy 10.24.1–18. Livy 10.26.5. For other stories in which the Fabii display concern for the state, see section 7 below; sections 8 and 9 are not irrelevant. Livy 9.38.7–14; Dio fr. 36.26. Oakley (2005) 486, 489–90. Combet Farnoux (1970). Walsh (1961) 89.

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dence to support this hypothesis, it is certainly possible that Pictor was responsible for incorporating this theme into the tradition, and the association of the Fabii with concordia in the several episodes discussed here may lend some support to the idea. It is not, however, necessary to hold Pictor responsible. As for Pictor’s (or whoever’s) motives and model, Combet Farnoux points first and foremost to Q. Fabius Verrucosus, to his concern for cohesion, and to his practice of putting the good of the state first.128 If he is correct, then these many episodes in which the Fabii are concerned above all with domestic harmony and with the welfare of the state may owe something to Fabius Verrucosus’ attitude and behaviour. Even if they do not, there is enough repetition here to allow for the conclusion that these episodes in all likelihood constitute further proof that the Roman belief that members of the same gens behave like one another has had a significant impact on the literary tradition. If some prominent Fabius demonstrated an interest in internal harmony, then it would be plausible to suppose that any number of other Fabii may have done so too. 4. THE BATTLE OF CREMERA AND THE STORy OF THE SOLE SURVIVOR In 479 BC the military situation was, according to tradition, extremely serious. War was looming on multiple fronts. Dionysius says that the Senate planned, but could scarcely afford, to maintain a standing garrison on Rome’s northern frontier. The Senate’s concerns were alleviated however when Marcus and Kaeso Fabius volunteered the resources of their gens.129 The following day the Fabii assembled, three hundred in number, along with an additional 4,000 men, clients and friends, and set out from the city. Upon reaching the River Cremera, the Fabii established a fort, from which they launched raids into the territory of Veii and protected the border from enemy incursions. They did this successfully for two years until, in 477, they were all destroyed and their fort was taken.130 Only a single member of the entire gens survived, a small boy too young to fight and for this reason left at home.131 128 Combet Farnoux (1970) 81–82; he writes (81): ‘Or implicitement toute l’action du Cunctator est une leçon d’union et de cohésion, chacune de ses interventions dans des crises graves illustra éloquemment la nécessité de mettre fin aux divisions internes pour affronter le péril étranger’. For various examples see, e. g., Claud. Quad. fr. 57P (= Gell. NA 2.2.13): Fabius and his son enjoyed maxima concordia; Livy 22.26.5–6, 28.40.10; Val. Max. 3.8.2, 4.8.1; Sil. Pun. 7.516–17, 7.555; Plut. Fab. 10.1–2, 12–13, 17.5, 20, 24.2 (on which episode, see section 7 below); App. Hann. 13; Dio fr. 57.16; again, note Ennius’ verses about Verrucosus, for which see n. 64 above. Cf. also n. 26 above. On Fabius’ character, and Plutarch’s presentation and handling of it in particular, see Scuderi (2010). 129 War threatening: Livy 2.48.6–7; Senate’s plan: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.15.1; Fabii volunteer: Livy 2.48.8; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.15.2. 130 Sources and discussion in Münzer (1909) 1877–80. 131 Livy 2.50.11, 3.1.1; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.22.1–6, 9.59.1; Ovid Fast. 2.239–40; Fest. 174L; Eutrop. 1.16.3; De vir. ill. 14.6; Serv. Aen. 6.845; Zon. 7.17.

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This is a basic outline of the famous events at Cremera. There are, however, several alternative versions and there is much minor variation in the sources too. A few of these discrepancies and different versions will be noted elsewhere in this chapter, and the episode as a whole will be discussed in detail in Chapter III. The primary focus here is the final element in the tradition, the story of the sole survivor. The idea that just a single member of the gens survived and thus ensured the continuation of his line is inherently improbable and obviously unhistorical. The story does not fit at all well with the tradition of subsequent events either. Q. Fabius Vibulanus, the boy who was allegedly too young to fight in 479, was said to have been consul in 467. Even if he was supposed to have held the consulship at a very young age, 467 may seem perhaps just a little too soon after 479 for the story of his youth, or for the story of his first consulship, to appear plausible.132 More significantly, Diodorus records the appointment of a certain M. Fabius Vibulanus (who would presumably have to be the child of the sole survivor) to the consulship in 457.133 This tradition can be found nowhere else; it may be an element from a rival version of events,134 or an inconvenient detail for the most part swept under the carpet.135 Dionysius deemed the story of the sole survivor fit for the stage and his comment has prompted the suggestion that the episode may indeed have originated in, or formed the basis of, a stage play.136 Whether or not that was the case, the several difficulties with the story suggest that it has been incorporated into the tradition from some other source, at a later date, or just carelessly or incompletely.137 As Münzer notes,138 the story of the sole survivor served a unifying purpose, as it meant that all the subsequent members of the gens Fabia could trace their ancestry back to one common forebear. This idea can be taken a step further. Not only was each subsequent Fabius inevitably a direct descendant of this one individual, this lineage could in turn be presented as reaching its culmination with Fabius Verrucosus.139 This is done explicitly by Ovid, Servius and the author of the De viris 132 MRR I, 32; Diod. 11.74.1; Livy 3.1.1; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.59.1; Mommsen (1879) 260. Obviously the age at which magistracies could be held in the early fifth century is unknown; but equally, even the very existence of the consulship in the fifth century is uncertain (see Chapter III, section 6 below). The tradition as a whole quite probably presupposes the conditions of much later times. 133 Diod. 12.3.1; MRR I, 41; he is RE 161. 134 Cf. Diodorus’ version of the battle of Cremera (11.53.6): the Romans fought a large battle at Cremera and were defeated; among the fallen were 300 members of the gens Fabia; on this version, cf. Richard (1989a). 135 Cf. Mommsen (1879) 260–61; Münzer (1909) 1880–81. 136 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.22.3; cf. Wiseman (1998) 4; Richard (1989) 321; Münzer (1909) 1880: ‘ganz unwahrscheinlich die Ansicht, daß der Stoff wirklich von einer römischen Tragödie verwendet worden sei’. 137 Pinsent (1964) argues that the story was invented by the historian L. Cincius Alimentus in order, among other things, to accuse the Fabii of ingratitude. His case is highly conjectural, and the evidence for it is, at best, only circumstantial. 138 Münzer (1909) 1741. 139 Cf. Richard (1990) 185: ‘Q. Fabius, si c’est bien de lui qu’il s’agit, est le maillon irremplaçable de la chaîne qui, des 306 Fabii, conduit au Temporisateur’, (1992) 420–21.

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illustribus, and Livy hints at it also.140 The idea that one individual survived the otherwise complete destruction of his gens so that he could ultimately beget the great hero of the Hannibalic War not only unifies the gens Fabia, but, given the juxtaposition of the survivor and the hero, unifies the gens around both figures. Servius’ account of this story is especially noteworthy because he calls the surviving child Fabius Maximus. Münzer discards this as a simple mistake on Servius’ part, but that it was made at all shows the extent to which Fabius Verrucosus had come to dominate the traditions of his family. Servius in fact appears to conflate the survivor and Verrucosus, and the several sources for this episode all employ the word unus to refer to the child, a word which, given the context and the association with Verrucosus, inevitably calls to mind Ennius’ famous unus homo.141 The use of the word unus suggests that, when the various authors came to write about this one Fabius, the sole survivor, they had in mind the most famous of the Fabii, Fabius Verrucosus, and Ennius’ description of him. It is, therefore, no wonder that Servius could come to conflate them. Naturally enough, this Q. Fabius Vibulanus was said to have behaved appropriately too: in 467 and again in 462 he ensured that there was harmony in the state.142 5. THE FABII AND THE SEMPRONII Q. Fabius Vibulanus was elected consul for 423 BC. His colleague was C. Sempronius Atratinus. The tradition attributes little to Fabius, for the lot awarded the only military action of the year to his colleague. Sempronius did not campaign with much success, however, and while Livy does not state that he was defeated, he does claim that his actions came under scrutiny, both prior to and on his belated return to Rome. Attempts were made to prosecute him, but they were abortive; it was only some years later, in 420, that Sempronius was tried and subsequently fined.143 140 Ovid Fast. 2.239–42: nam puer impubes et adhuc non utilis armis/ unus de Fabia gente relictus erat;/ scilicet ut posses olim tu, Maxime, nasci,/ cui res cunctando restituenda foret; note also Ovid Pont. 1.2.1–4; Serv. Aen. 6.845: unus tantum superfuit, Fabius Maximus, qui propter teneram adhuc pueritiam in civitate remanserat. hic postea cum Hannibalis impetum ferre non posset, mora eum elusit; De vir. ill. 14.6: unus ex ea gente propter impuberem aetatem domi relictus genus propagavit ad Q. Fabium Maximum, qui Hannibalem mora fregit, Cunctator ab obtrectatoribus dictus; Livy 2.50.11: trecentos sex perisse satis convenit, unum propter impuberem aetatem relictum, stirpem genti Fabiae dubiisque rebus populi Romani saepe domi bellique vel maximum futurum auxilium; cf. also Zon. 7.17. On De vir. ill. 14.6, cf. Fugmann (1997) 70, 80–82; on Ovid Fast. 2.241–42, cf. Montanari (1973) 31–33; Harries (1991) 160– 61; Barchiesi (1997) 151–52. 141 See the previous note; also Livy 3.1.1: hic erat Fabius qui unus exstinctae ad Cremeram genti superfuerat; Fest. 174L; Eutrop. 1.16.3. Although the phrase unus vir was applied by Livy to others, people who belonged to different families, it was associated above all with the Fabii, cf. Santoro L’Hoir (1990) 231–32. 142 See section 3.2 above. 143 This Q. Fabius is RE 166; election: MRR I, 68; Fabius appears to have stayed at home: Livy 4.40.2. For Sempronius’ campaign: Livy 4.37.6–39.9; Val. Max. 3.2.8; his campaign under

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In the interim, N. Fabius Vibulanus had held the consulship (in 421). While he gives no details, Livy comments that N. Fabius campaigned with some success against the Aequi, although he did not, Livy says, receive his due reward; denied a triumph, he was nonetheless permitted to celebrate an ovatio. This was because, Livy claims, his victory had gone some way to alleviating the odium of Sempronius’ defeat. The claim, it should be noted, is completely contrived: Sempronius was said to have campaigned against the Volsci, while N. Fabius fought the Aequi.144 As R. M. Ogilvie has argued, the tradition of Sempronius’ campaign in 423 appears to have been styled upon another. ‘Incidental details [in his campaign] are borrowed’, Ogilvie observes, ‘from that other clades Semproniana, the defeat of Ti. Sempronius at the Trebia in 218 B. C. The consul’s negligence and foolhardiness, the fatal division of the forces into two groups, the providential escape of the surrounded detachment, all are foreshadowed in the later battle (21.52–54). Furthermore, the dismounting of the cavalry to fight on foot is taken from Cannae (22.49.3)’. To this can perhaps be added the reaction at Rome to the news of Ti. Sempronius’ defeat, and the comparable reaction to the rumour of Atratinus’.145 This episode, then, appears to provide further evidence of the Roman tendency to attribute similar behaviour to members of the same gens. What makes this significant in the present context is the fact that a Fabius was said to have made amends for Sempronius Atratinus’ campaign, and, what is more, was said to have done so despite the fact that he fought some years after Sempronius and against a different opponent. Presumably Fabius Verrucosus’ role in the war against Hannibal, and in particular his delay tactics (which helped to make amends for those earlier defeats which the Romans had suffered, including the defeat at Trebia), have influenced the presentation, or the development, of N. Fabius Vibulanus’ campaign in 421. 6. ELDERLy FATHERS AND RASH SONS According to Livy, when L. Furius Camillus, one of the consuls for 325, was taken gravely ill he was forced to surrender his command and appoint a dictator in his stead. Furius nominated L. Papirius Cursor, and Cursor selected Fabius Rullianus as his magister equitum.146 Once he had organised his forces, Cursor set out for Samnium, the province which had been allotted to Furius, but he was soon forced to return to Rome in order to retake the auspices, for they had been uncertain at the first reading. Before descrutiny: Livy 4.40.4–41.9; attempted prosecution: Livy 4.42.3–9; Val. Max. 6.5.2; trial in 420: Livy 4.44.6–10. 144 N. Fabius is RE 163; for his campaign: Livy 4.43.1–2. Livy tries to get around the problem that Sempronius fought the Volsci, but Fabius the Aequi by asserting that the Aequi essentially claimed the uncertain victory of the Volsci (4.42.10: non diutius fortuna Aequis indulsit, qui ambiguam victoriam Volscorum pro sua amplexi fuerant); Ogilvie (1965) 597 infers a change of source. 145 Ogilvie (1965) 592; reaction at Rome: Livy 4.40.1–2 and 21.57.1. 146 Livy 8.29.8–9; MRR I, 147–48.

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parting, he instructed his magister equitum neither to move the camp, nor engage the enemy while he was away.147 But Fabius Rullianus paid no heed to Cursor’s words. Noting that the Samnites were exposed and scarcely prepared for combat, he advanced as far as Imbrinium, and there met and routed the enemy in a pitched battle.148 Livy says that the engagement was an unmitigated success. The Roman foot excelled, and so determined were the cavalrymen that, having charged the enemy lines without success, they untacked their horses and rushed forward with such pace that their onslaught was irresistible. Some 20,000 Samnites were killed on that day, Livy reports.149 There was evidently more than one version of Rullianus’ campaign. Livy notes that some of his sources credited Fabius with two successful battles; the oldest, however, recorded only the one engagement; while some omitted the episode entirely.150 Valerius Maximus, it seems, drew upon a very different source for one of his two anecdotes concerning this episode. For Valerius claims that Fabius fared poorly, and it was only due to the heroic efforts of the cavalry, who stripped the bridles from their horses and ferociously charged the enemy, that looming defeat was turned into victory.151 The successful outcome of the engagement resulted in the capture of much booty but Rullianus allegedly burnt it all. Livy comments that he may have done this in accordance with some vow, or, and for this explanation Livy cites Fabius (that is, presumably, Fabius Pictor) as his source, to prevent the dictator from appropriating the glory earned by his magister equitum and from inscribing his name on the weapons or displaying them in his triumph.152 Rullianus also sent a report to the Senate, but not to Papirius Cursor, and Livy concludes from this that he cannot have wished for his commander to share in the glory of the victory. The report was well received by all in Rome, except the dictator, who was furious; and Cursor promptly set out for the camp, bemoaning the damage done to the majesty of the office of dictator and the breach of military discipline. News of his coming, and his mood, preceded his arrival at the camp.153

147 Livy 8.29.6 (allotment of provinces), 8.30.1–2; Val. Max. 2.7.8, 3.2.9; Frontin. Strat. 4.1.39; De vir. ill. 31.1, on which see Fugmann (2004) 139–42; Eutrop. 2.8.2. 148 Livy 8.30.3–4 (note 8.30.4: Fabius was a ferox adulescens); Val. Max. 2.7.8, 3.2.9; Eutrop. 2.8.3; De vir. ill. 31.2. 149 Livy 8.30.5–7; Val. Max. 2.7.8; Frontin. Strat. 4.1.39: prospere pugnaverat; Eutrop. 2.8.3: felicissime dimicavit et Samnitas delevit; De vir. ill. 31.2. 150 Livy 8.30.7: auctores habeo bis cum hoste signa conlata dictatore absente, bis rem egregie gestam; apud antiquissimos scriptores una haec pugna invenitur; in quibusdam annalibus tota res praetermissa est. Oakley (1998) 711 believes that antiquissimos auctores is a reference to Fabius Pictor, as it may very well be; so too Forsythe (1999) 60; see Northwood (2000) esp. 53. 151 Val. Max. 3.2.9; no mention of this at 2.7.8. 152 Livy 8.30.8–9: seu credere libet Fabio auctori eo factum ne suae gloriae fructum dictator caperet nomenque ibi scriberet aut spolia in triumpho ferret (= Fabius Pictor fr. 18P = fr. 24 Chassignet; cf. further Beloch [1926] 396; Frier [1979] 269). 153 Livy 8.30.10–13.

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Livy builds the ensuing clash between dictator and magister equitum into a substantial episode with lengthy speeches on both sides, both direct and indirect. Prior to Cursor’s return, Rullianus called an assembly of the soldiers to rally support for his defence, and to raise doubts about the dictator’s character, motives and intentions.154 Cursor arrived shortly afterwards. He instructed the assembly to convene and then challenged Fabius to justify his actions, carried out in violation of a direct order and under troubled auspices.155 Fabius strove to defend himself, but Cursor angrily ordered him to be stripped and the rods and axes readied. Rullianus managed to escape only by fleeing into the ranks of the triarii.156 The whole army then united in defence of its magister equitum; those near the dictator pleaded with him, while those afar spoke more rebelliously.157 The youth had been sufficiently reprimanded, the legates claimed. Besides, it would not be fitting for someone from such an eminent house to be further cast down in humiliation, and no one would blame Fabius if the army rose in mutiny. The punishment of Fabius was just not in the interests of the state.158 But such words, Livy claims, served only to aggravate the dictator further.159 The fall of night ended the first encounter, and the cover which it provided allowed Rullianus, on the advice of his supporters, to slip away to Rome. He was not able to depart unnoticed, however, and Cursor set out in hot pursuit. Upon arriving in the city, and with the consent of M. Fabius Ambustus his father, Rullianus summoned the senators to the Curia, an act for which no precedent exists in the extant evidence.160 As soon as they had gathered, he began to address the patres, but he was interrupted by the bustle of Cursor’s arrival. The dictator immediately ordered his magister equitum to be seized. The senators sought to intervene, but futilely, for Cursor was stubborn and would not be swayed. Undaunted, Fabius Ambustus then stepped forward and championed his son’s right of provocatio and a hearing before the people, and so all hurried to the Rostra.161 Once there, further chaos ensued, as Cursor had Rullianus removed from his place on the speaker’s platform, and a great clamour of angry voices arose. Ambustus alone managed to make himself heard, and he rebuked the dictator at length for his pride, cruelty and lack of moderation:

154 155 156 157 158 159 160

161

Livy 8.31.1–32.1. Livy 8.32.1–8. Livy 8.32.9–11. Livy 8.32.12–13; cf. Eutrop. 2.8.3: tanta Papirio seditione commota, ut paene ipse interficeretur, on which, see Münzer (1909) 1800: ‘übertreibend’. Livy 8.32.13–18; note the emphasis on Rullianus’ youth: 8.32.15: satis castigatam adulescentiam Fabi esse, satis deformatam victoriam; ne ad extremum finem supplicii tenderet neu unico iuveni neu patri eius, clarissimo viro, neu Fabiae genti eam iniungeret ignominiam. Livy 8.33.1. Livy 8.33.2–4. The Senate was not again called to assemble by a magister equitum until 216, in the wake of the defeat at Cannae: Livy 23.24.5, 23.25.2; although, according to Varro, ap. Gell. NA 14.7.4, magistri equitum did not possess the authority to convene the Senate; on Cic. Leg. 3.10, see Dyck (2004) 472. Livy 8.33.4–9; on the appeal, see Oakley (1998) 728–29.

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no military failure had ever led to such dire punishment,162 and Rullianus had been victorious. The people were celebrating and offering sacrifices to the gods in thanks, and yet the one responsible for this was to be scourged before those very gods whom he himself had twice invoked when joining battle.163 This last detail is not without significance. It may cast some light on Livy’s source. Ambustus claimed that Rullianus twice invoked the gods for help;164 but, apart from the tradition that Rullianus burnt the spoils in accordance with some vow, there is no mention of his turning to the heavens for support even once during the engagement. Presumably these invocations were simply those made upon the commencement of battle. If so, two such invocations would imply two battles. Livy noted earlier that, while the oldest sources recorded only a single engagement, some claimed that Rullianus had fought twice. It would seem that Livy is here following one of these latter, and presumably later, sources.165 Ambustus closed his speech in tears, and Livy asserts that the senators, the people and their tribunes, and the soldiers in their distant camp all supported the two Fabii. The dictator, however, retorted instead with an appeal to the harsh discipline of T. Manlius, who executed his own son for disobedience, and the commitment of L. Brutus, who killed his two sons when they threatened the fledgling Republic, and he lamented the licence of contemporary times. Without discipline, he asserted, the army would fail, and posterity would only blame those who had allowed Rullianus to go unpunished.166 The tribunes hesitated at these words, but the people did not. They implored Cursor to yield to their will; and, sensing the prevailing mood, the tribunes soon joined in the appeal. Quintus and Marcus threw themselves at the dictator’s feet. To all this, Cursor replied with an assertion of Rullianus’ guilt, but, since the people sought his indulgence, he said, he would allow Fabius to go unpunished, and he judged that the lesson which the incident offered had been learnt. Everyone then crowded around and congratulated both dictator and magister equitum.167 This episode is, at least in a very general sense, evocative of the clash between the dictator Fabius Verrucosus and his magister equitum, Minucius Rufus. Just like 162 Note Ambustus’ very first historical example (8.33.14): dictatorem Quinctium Cincinnatum in L. Minucium consulem ex obsidione a se ereptum non ultra saevisse quam ut legatum eum ad exercitum pro consule relinqueret. Note too that Livy emphasises Fabius’ age (he calls him senex at 8.33.11; cf. also 8.33.7). 163 Livy 8.33.9–21; Dio’s version (fr. 36.1–5) of Ambustus’ speech is pure rhetoric, cf. Millar (1964) 79; on the supplicationes, cf. Oakley (1998) 735: ‘our passage [Livy 8.33.20] must be a fiction’. 164 Livy 8.33.21: deosque ab se duobus proeliis haud frustra advocatos! 165 Livy 8.30.7; cf. Forsythe (1994) 336; Oakley (1998) 736; Chaplin (2000) 111. 166 Livy 8.34.1–11 (note the references to the old and the young at 8.34.3); according to Dio, fr. 36.6–7, Cursor’s unflinching severity was a ploy designed both to instruct Rullianus and to win popularity for the dictator when, in due course, he issued his pardon. Cursor evidently developed a reputation for severity, cf. Livy 9.16.14–16; and he used the fear of capital punishment on other occasions too, cf. Livy 9.16.17–18; Plin. HN 17.81; Dio fr. 36.24; Amm. 30.8.5; De vir. ill. 31.4. 167 Livy 8.35.1–9 (for Rullianus’ youth: 8.35.2–3).

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Fabius Rullianus, Minucius Rufus disobeyed explicit orders not to engage the enemy when the dictator had to return to Rome for religious reasons.168 There are, of course, obvious and significant differences. The two Fabii play opposite roles: in 217 Fabius Verrucosus was the disobeyed dictator, whereas in 325 Fabius Rullianus was the disobedient magister equitum. While Fabius Verrucosus slipped away from Rome during the night, Fabius Rullianus fled there during the night. Verrucosus’ magister equitum was saved from punishment by the tribunes and the people, who gave him authority equal to the dictator’s, while Papirius Cursor’s magister equitum, initially sheltered by the soldiers, was saved by flight, and by the intervention, above all, of his father (but also of the tribunes and the people). This last detail, the involvement of Rullianus’ father, is particularly important, for something comparable is found in several other episodes, all of which involve the Fabii, and all of which are, in their fundamentals, remarkably similar to the story of Rullianus and Cursor. The first of these is found in a variant tradition which is preserved only in Diodorus.169 When an army of Gauls laid siege to the Etruscan city of Clusium, the Romans dispatched ambassadors to spy upon it (391 BC). Although Diodorus does not name them, the tradition is unanimous in maintaining that the ambassadors were all members of the gens Fabia. When the ambassadors saw that a battle had commenced between the Gauls and the Clusini, they decided, more bravely than wisely, says Diodorus, to join in. During the fighting, one of the ambassadors (Q. Fabius, according to other sources for the episode) killed an important Gallic chieftain. When the Gauls discovered this, they sent ambassadors of their own to the Roman Senate, to demand that the culprit be surrendered to them. So far, Diodorus’ account is generally consistent with other versions of the story; it is the rest which is essentially unique. The Senate, Diodorus says, first tried to bribe the Gauls but, when this did not work,170 it agreed to surrender the ambassador. At this point, the ambassador’s father, who happened also to be one of the consular tribunes, appealed to the people. He was an influential man, Diodorus claims, and so he was able to persuade the people to overturn the Senate’s decision. Diodorus concludes 168 Münzer (1909) 1801, 1821–22; Pais (1920) 214; Salmon (1967) 220 n. 4; Montanari (1973) 95 n. 108; Frier (1979) 244, 269 n. 42; Chaplin (2000) 114–15; Beck and Walter (2001) 121–22; the parallel is essentially dismissed by Oakley (1998) 696. 169 Diod. 14.113.4–7. The story and other versions of it are discussed in Chapter III, sections 2 and 3. Montanari (1973) 89 n. 105 notes the parallel: ‘L’episodio relativo al contrasto tra Q. Fabius Rullianus e Papirius Cursor…, illustra il perdurare in piena guerra sannitica…, dell’attribuzione di un certo modello di comportamento ai membri della gens Fabia…. Anche in questo caso, infatti, abbiamo un Fabio che si slancia temerariamente contro i nemici: come i Fabii della legazione chiusina avevano violato lo ius gentium nell’attaccare i Galli, così Fabius Rullianus viola la disciplina militaris… come il Q. Fabius Ambustus della legazione chiusina, secondo la versione di Diodoro…, compirà, infine, una provocatio ad populum venendo difeso, in tale occasione, da suo padre…. Ma anche stavolta l’«errore» di un Fabio si risolverà in una felix culpa: l’assoluzione del Fabio da parte ad popolo comporterà infatti, da allora in avanti, l’annullamento del divieto di opporre la provocatio ad populum nei confronti del dictator’. On the differences in the other accounts of this episode, see Luce (1971) 273 and n. 14, 277. 170 The story of the attempt to buy off the Gauls is also found in App. Celt. 3.

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by noting that this was the first occasion on which the people began to revoke senatorial decisions. The next relevant episode took place a century later, in 292 BC, in which year Q. Fabius Gurges, the son of Fabius Rullianus, was consul. According to the epitome of Livy’s eleventh book, Fabius Gurges campaigned against the Samnites, but he did so unsuccessfully and for this reason the Senate debated whether or not he should be deprived of his command. His father, Rullianus, then intervened on his son’s behalf, to save him from such ignominy. The Senate was swayed when Rullianus promised that he would join his son in the field and serve under him as his legate. Thereafter Gurges defeated the Samnites and triumphed.171 A slightly different version of these events can be found in Zonaras.172 He says that Rullianus was supposed to have left Rome with his son at the beginning of the campaign, but that his son departed early. Zonaras describes how Gurges rushed into battle with the Samnites and, because of his great haste and lack of care, was defeated. As a result he was recalled to Rome to stand trial. His father Rullianus then came forward and spoke on his son’s behalf; he recounted his own achievements and those of his ancestors, and he blamed the disaster on Gurges’ youth. Rullianus’ speech soothed the people, and the consul returned to the field with his father to continue operations. The two campaigned with such great success, capturing the Samnite camp and winning much booty, that Gurges was made proconsul for the following year. Rullianus remained with him in the field, and he carefully orchestrated matters so that the glory of their successes went to his son. One final story is also worth noting here, although it involves neither any threat of punishment nor the intervention of a father. In 302 BC the dictator M. Valerius Maximus, while on campaign in Etruria, was forced to hasten back to Rome to retake the auspices; in his absence, his magister equitum, while out foraging, was ambushed and driven back to camp. During the conflict, the standards were lost, Livy claims.173 There were evidently two different traditions concerning the identity of Maximus’ magister equitum. According to one, he was M. Aemilius Paullus, but according to the other, he was Fabius Rullianus. Livy himself opts for Paullus because Rullianus, he thinks, would not have been made subordinate to Valerius at such a late stage in his career and he would not have been so disgracefully defeated, and because, after the incident involving Cursor, Rullianus would never again have offered battle in such circumstances unless on the order of the dictator.174 Livy sug171 Livy Per. 11; cf. also Val. Max. 5.7.1, who stresses Rullianus’ advanced age (ultimam senectutem), and Gurges’ youth (on this, note also Val. Max. 2.2.4a); Eutrop. 2.9.3; Oros. 3.22.6–10 (referring to Rullianus as senex). 172 Zon. 8.1; some details in Dio fr. 36.30–31; cf. Polyaenus Strat. 8.15 for what may be yet another version. Both Dio and Zonaras also draw attention to Rullianus’ age (Dio fr. 36.30: o9 de\ ge/rwn, 36.31: ou0de\n tou= gh/rwj feido/menoj; Zon. 8.1: o9 de\ ge/rwn… mhde\n tou= gh/rwj feido/menoj), and Gurges’ youth (Dio fr. 36.30: th\n h9liki/an tou= ui9e/oj probalo/menoj; Zon. 8.1: th\n tou/tou neo/thta pro\j to\ a0tu/xhma probalo/menoj); the same contrast can be found in Polyaenus’ story too. 173 Livy 10.3.6; on the episode, and Livy’s account of it, see Oakley (2005a) 70–72. 174 Livy 10.3.3–4, 10.3.7–8.

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gests that confusion may have arisen on account of the cognomen Maximus, common to both Valerius and Fabius, but his argument does not really work. Valerius was not the magister equitum.175 Although the variation in the tradition inevitably raises serious misgivings about the credentials of this last story,176 it can hardly be doubted that the version involving Rullianus immediately calls to mind the tradition of events in 325. It is reasonable to suggest either that some story involving Rullianus was modelled on, and perhaps even prompted by, the better known legend of his clash with Cursor in 325, or that the variant in which the magister equitum was Fabius Rullianus arose on account of the similarities between this story and that of 325. Either way, the tendency to assume that individual members of a gens, and so also therefore the individuals themselves, behave in consistent ways may well be responsible for this episode, or at least for one version of it. The manner in which Livy criticises the tradition may also be significant. What may seem to be the strongest argument for dismissing the version involving Rullianus (namely that the story appears to owe too much to the tradition of events in 325) does not appear even to have occurred to Livy. The pattern behind these several episodes (the variant tradition of the events of 302 aside) is clear. A youthful Q. Fabius behaves rashly; when he is about to be punished in some way for his behaviour, his father intervenes on his behalf and rescues him. In most accounts, a contrast is made at some stage between the youth of the son and the age of his father.177 This contrast is important, as it reveals the nature of the pattern. young Fabii behave rashly; elderly Fabii do not, and must also intervene on behalf of their rash sons. The fact that it is age, rather than personality, circumstance or some such thing, which is the issue here is demonstrated by the career of Fabius Rullianus. In 325 he was the rash youth, but in 292 he played the role of the elderly father who intervenes to save his rash son. The repetition of behaviour found in these stories undoubtedly owes its existence to the Roman belief that members of the same gens tend to behave in similar ways. There is no other obvious explanation for the repetition involved. It would be 175 Livy 10.3.4. 176 Note too that the variation in the tradition may have gone deeper than the magister equitum’s identity; Livy may have combined two different versions of the campaign: hence, perhaps, a foraging expedition under the command of a magister equitum, and in which the standards were lost; cf. Harris (1971) 65: ‘Livy explains why he prefers to think that Aemilius rather than Fabius was Valerius’ magister equitum:… Fabius would not have fought [the battle] dictatoris iniussu in the first place – but he has just said that the magister equitum found himself in battle involuntarily’. On variant traditions, note the comments of Bettini (1991) 61–62; on this story, cf. also Chaplin (2000) 112. Walt (1997) 282 suggests that Rullianus may have here been confused with his son Gurges; if so, then Gurges may have behaved as his father had. 177 See nn. 148, 158, 162, 166, 167, 171 and 172 above; note that Papirius Cursor is only a peritus dux (Livy 8.36.5): the theme of age and youth does not involve him. Chaplin (2000) 108–14 draws attention to the contrast between youth and age; since her discussion is limited only to Livy’s narrative, she inevitably misses the appearance of this theme in other sources and in other episodes (such as that of 292); while the contrast may have been something which Livy exploited, it was clearly an established part of the tradition.

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difficult to argue (and impossible to prove) that a common source lies behind these several traditions, and perhaps even more difficult to find some suitable motive (other than, that is, the belief that gentiles behave similarly) that would explain why anyone should have wished to devise such a theme.178 As for the ultimate model for this behaviour, a case can be made for Q. Fabius Verrucosus. Not only does Fabius Rullianus provide an example of a rash young Fabius, but he also provides an example of an elderly Fabius who rescues his son, and the tradition about him is helpfully full and detailed. As will be discussed in the next section, in the latter part of his life Rullianus is frequently depicted by the sources in a manner which is immediately evocative of Fabius Verrucosus. When he was older, Rullianus quite clearly behaved like Verrucosus, and it was when he was older that he pleaded on his son’s behalf. While there is no story in which Verrucosus rescued his son as Rullianus was said to have rescued his in 292, Ambustus his in 325, or Diodorus’ Fabius his in 391,179 there are nonetheless several pertinent parallels to be found in the tradition of his career. Most obviously, Fabius Verrucosus rescued Minucius Rufus when the latter’s rash behaviour got him into trouble, and afterwards, Minucius addressed Verrucosus as ‘father’.180 It is quite possible that this incident provided the model for the Fabius who rescues a son; it is evident that other episodes in the tradition have been based upon it. The contrast between the elderly Fabius and the rash youth can also be found in Livy’s account of the senatorial debate regarding P. Cornelius Scipio’s planned invasion of Africa, to which Verrucosus was opposed.181 But perhaps the most important parallel of all comes in a story which may involve the young Fabius Verrucosus. Plutarch, concerned as he is with character, depicts Verrucosus as something of a delayer from his youth. However, Plutarch provides no stories as such from Verrucosus’ childhood to illustrate this trait and it is quite likely that the depiction is his own.182 Little is known about Verrucosus’ youth, and his career appears to have 178 Compare, for instance, the various motives that have been suggested for the creation of the anti-Claudian tradition (see Chapter I, section 3.1). But to whose benefit is a story about a rash son saved from punishment by his own father? 179 Verrucosus did, however, deliver one speech for his son, viz. his funeral eulogy, Cic. Sen. 12, Nat. D. 3.80, Tusc. 3.70; Plut. Fab. 1.5, 24.4. Note too Dio fr. 57.10. 180 See n. 20 above. Note Chaplin (2000) 115–16. 181 Livy dramatises the debate with lengthy, paired speeches, first that of Fabius, and then Scipio’s reply; in Livy’s version, Fabius noted Scipio’s youth (28.40.9, 28.40.12) and his own age (28.40.10, 28.40.13; note 28.40.7 on his delay), and warned against rash and hasty action (28.41.16–17, 28.42.7: non semper temeritas est felix, an extremely apt sententia); Plut. Fab. 25.2; cf. Beck (2000) 90. Pais (1920) 214 argues for a parallel here with Fabius Rullianus’ expedition into the Ciminian forest. 182 Plut. Fab. 1.3–4 is confined to generalities; the only exception is found in the explanation of Verrucosus’ name Ovicula, given to him on account of his gentle nature; cf. De vir. ill. 43.1: Ovicula a clementia morum; Beck (2005) 270. Pace Feig Vishnia (2007) 25–26 who suggests that Plutarch’s uninformed discussion reflects Fabius Pictor’s account, which sought to cover up certain details: it is difficult to argue that a specific cause is responsible for such silence, as it is common for little to be known about the childhood and early careers of Roman nobles, especially those who lived in such early times; other gaps are easily explained by the wealth of

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been delayed for some reason. Certainly, by the time he implemented his strategy of delay against Hannibal, he was already an old man.183 The cause of that delay in his career, and along with it the model for the rash young Fabius, may possibly be found in a rather poorly attested story. Sometime in the first half of the third century BC the Greek city of Apollonia sent ambassadors to Rome. These ambassadors were, according to the summary of book fifteen of Livy, assailed by certain youths, who were subsequently surrendered to the Apollonians.184 The names of these youths are preserved in Valerius Maximus’ account. They were Q. Fabius and Cn. Apronius, who were both former aediles.185 During the course of some quarrel, Fabius and Apronius assaulted the Apollonian ambassadors; when the senators learnt of this, Valerius says, they immediately surrendered the two offenders to the injured Apollonians. Valerius adds a further, and important, detail: to prevent the relatives of the offenders from intervening, a quaestor was sent to accompany and protect the ambassadors as they made their way to Brundisium.186 Finally, there is Dio’s version of the incident. Ac-

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184 185 186

material available from Verrucosus’ later career (on which Plutarch naturally focused, and it evidently provided sufficient insight into Verrucosus’ character; it is quite clear that Plutarch has chosen to concentrate on Verrucosus’ exploits during the war with Hannibal). Feig Vishnia (2007) 20–23. It has been argued that the existence of an additional generation of Fabii should be inferred, so that Verrucosus would be Fabius Rullianus’ great-grandson rather than his grandson (see, e. g., Beck [2005] 272–73), and would therefore be a much younger man at the time of Hannibal’s invasion, but there is no good reason to reject the tradition concerning the chronology of Fabius Verrucosus’ career (see Rüpke [2008] 676 n. 5; note Münzer [1999] 55–56, who argued for an additional generation, but nonetheless retained a more traditional chronology for Verrucosus’ career). Verrucosus died in 203 BC, thirty years after his first consulship. If he was c. 40 years old at the time of his first consulship, then he would have been c. 70 when he died. This, however, does not quite fit with those sources which emphasise his advanced age (Cic. Sen. 10; Livy 28.40.9–13, 30.26.7; Val. Max. 8.13.3; Plut. Fab. 11.1 [217 BC], 24.1). Nor does it fit with the claim that he was an augur for some 62 or 63 years (Livy 30.26.7; Val. Max. 8.13.3; Plin. HN 7.156); he is hardly likely to have been appointed at the age of just seven, and Val. Max. 8.13.3 says that he was in fact appointed at a mature age (Q. autem Fabius Maximus duobus et sexaginta annis auguratus sacerdotium sustinuit, robusta iam aetate id adeptus. quae utraque tempora si in unum conferantur, facile saeculi modum expleverint, which might even suggest he was about forty; that may seem unlikely, but the claim is at least evidence of the belief that he lived to a very old age). If ten years are added to his life, then he was augur at 17, cos. I at 50, and dead at 80; if twenty years, then he was augur at 27, cos. I at 60, and dead at 90. This last reconstruction would mean that he was born c. 293 BC; thus he could have been the son of Fabius Gurges and the grandson of Rullianus, as Livy says he was (30.26.8). This would also fit neatly if he was appointed augur after Gurges had died in 265 (see MRR I, 201–2), and thus he would have been augur for 62–63 years. Plutarch’s claim (Fab. 1.2, 24.3) that he was Rullianus’ great-grandson is understandable: given the long chronology of Verrucosus’ career, it may well have seemed a reasonable assumption to make. Livy Per. 15: cum legatos Apolloniatium ad senatum missos quidam iuvenes pulsassent, dediti sunt Apolloniatibus. MRR I, 200–1, suggesting a date of 267 BC for their terms in office. Feig Vishnia (2007) 26 suggests a date of around 266 for the embassy from Apollonia. Val. Max. 6.6.5: quaestoremque cum his Brundisium ire iussit, ne quam in itinere a cognatis deditorum iniuriam acciperent.

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cording to this, there was only one offender, Q. Fabius, a senator; he was handed over to the Apollonians, but they returned him unharmed.187 The themes here are familiar: there is the rash young Q. Fabius, and the intervention of his family (his father?) is hinted at by Valerius Maximus when he says that a quaestor was sent to escort the ambassadors to Brundisium, to protect them from injury at the hands of the offenders’ families. The episode also recalls the story of the Q. Fabius who killed the Gallic chief in 391 and who was very nearly surrendered to the Gauls as a result; indeed, this incident from the third century may have even contributed to the development of the tradition of that earlier episode.188 The story therefore provides further examples of these various patterns of behaviour, but it is especially significant because, as R. Feig Vishnia has recently suggested, the Q. Fabius who attacked the Apollonian ambassadors may have been the young Q. Fabius Verrucosus.189 It may have been on account of this incident that his career was delayed. If the equation is correct, and it seems perfectly possible, then the career of Q. Fabius Verrucosus provided the model not only for the old Fabius who rescues his son and who, among other things, delays, but it may also have provided the model for the rash young Fabius.190 Q. Fabius Verrucosus was one of the most celebrated members of his gens, and unlike the other great hero of the family, Q. Fabius Rullianus, he lived in historical times (or at least very close to them). His career appears to have been treated as a model of Fabian behaviour, and he himself appears to have been treated as the exemplary Fabius. And, if members of the same gens tend to behave in the same way, then it would be perfectly plausible to suppose that earlier members of the gens Fabia must have behaved as Verrucosus did. Of course, even if the Q. Fabius who assaulted the Apollonian ambassadors was not Fabius Verrucosus, the repetition in behaviour found in the several stories discussed here remains. It is still evidence of the belief that members of the same gens behave similarly, and it is still proof that this belief has had a significant impact on the content and value of the literary tradition, even if the model for these incidents was not provided by Verrucosus himself. 187 Dio fr. 42; Zon. 8.7. 188 Feig Vishnia (2007) 34 n. 91 suggests that it may have been the other way around, that the events of 391 may have influenced those of over a century later, but it is better to assume that the tradition of an early, and in this instance unhistorical, episode has been affected by a later, historical event. 189 Feig Vishnia (2007) passim, stated explicitly at 28–29, 33; but unpersuasive is her reconstruction of Fabius’ motives (esp. her attempt to revive the arguments of E. S. Staveley), and of his personality, as ‘a sharp-tongued, condescending individual who never hesitated to abuse his contenders verbally’ (see 29–33; 31 for the quote); for Verrucosus’ personality, see n. 128 above. 190 Moreover, if that is the case, then Fabius Verrucosus’ career cannot have represented a radical change in, or departure from, the behaviour, ideology and traditions of the Fabii, as has been argued by, e. g., Ruggiero (1984) 293–94; Arcella (1995), e. g., 237 n. 62 on Fabius Rullianus: ‘Il ruolo di questo personaggio è simmetrico – con inversione di caratteristiche – a quello del Cunctator’ (which is untrue, even if Feig Vishnia’s argument does not work; see below for Rullianus the delayer), 239.

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7. Q. FABIUS MAxIMUS VERRUCOSUS AND Q. FABIUS MAxIMUS RULLIANUS Q. Fabius Rullianus was the grandfather, or possibly the great-grandfather, of Q. Fabius Verrucosus.191 Like Fabius Verrucosus, Rullianus held the consulship five times and was one of the leading figures of his day. Like Fabius Verrucosus, he was made princeps senatus.192 Like Verrucosus, as an old man he was said to have served under his son as a legate. Like Verrucosus, he was said to have been given the cognomen Maximus. According to Livy, and Valerius Maximus who clearly follows him, Fabius Rullianus had been awarded the cognomen Maximus for the changes which he made while censor (in 304 BC) in the distribution of certain people throughout the voting tribes. Livy adds that this was an honour which even Rullianus’ many victories in the field had not been able to secure for him.193 While they differ over the details, Plutarch and Ampelius both also claim that Fabius received the cognomen Maximus on account of the measures which he carried out during his censorship. Perhaps recalling Livy’s comment that Rullianus’ many victories had not won him such an honour, Plutarch offers this, in a brief digression in his Pompey, as proof of his statement that the Romans do not always award honorific titles for military success alone: the great deeds of statesmen are also so rewarded.194 In contrast, the author of the De viris illustribus states that Rullianus earned the title on account of his virtue or courage (ob virtutem).195 Plutarch, in his biography of Fabius Verrucosus, claims that Rullianus was called Maximus simply because the title was appropriate; and Livy elsewhere associates the cognomen with Rullianus’ military achievements.196 What makes this disagreement in the sources especially significant is Polybius’ explicit statement that Q. Fabius Verrucosus was the first member of his gens to be named Maximus.197 Although F. W. Walbank in his commentary on Polybius claims that Polybius was mistaken, his evidence cannot be so easily discarded.198 Polybius 191 See n. 183 above. 192 Verrucosus: Livy 27.11.9–12, 29.37.1; Rullianus: Plin. HN 7.133 (who notes that Rullianus’ father and son were also principes senatus, a striking instance of similar honours, and perhaps too of similar behaviour, real or supposed); Pais (1920) 212. 193 Livy 9.46.14–15; Val. Max. 2.2.9b. 194 Plut. Pomp. 13.6–7; Ampel. 18.6. 195 De vir. ill. 32.1: Quintus Fabius Rullus, primus ex ea familia ob virtutem Maximus; the author of the De vir. ill. was, however, well aware of the tradition concerning Fabius’ acts as censor: 32.2: censor libertinos tribubus amovit. 196 Plut. Fab. 1.2: pollou\j de\ kai\ mega/louj th=j oi0ki/aj e0cenegkame/nhj a1ndraj, a0po\ 9Rou/llou tou= megi/stou kai\ dia\ tou=to Maci/mou para\ 9Rwmai/oij e0ponomasqe/ntoj te/tartoj h]n Fa/bioj Ma/cimoj, peri\ ou[ ta/de gra/fomen; Livy 10.3.7: si qua alia arte cognomen suum aequavit, tum maxime bellicis laudibus. 197 Polyb. 3.87.6; so too Polyaenus Strat. 8.14.1, although Münzer (1909) 1815 deems Polyaenus’ evidence here ‘wertlos’. 198 Walbank (1957) 422; so too Oakley (2005) 642; Beck (2005) 274 n. 24; but others have accepted Polybius’ claim, cf. Stuart Jones and Last (1928) 532 n. 1; Münzer (1909) 1806; see Pais (1920) 182, 213.

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was well acquainted with the writings of Fabius Pictor and, if the title Maximus had indeed been bestowed on Rullianus, and for a specific act, it is not unreasonable to suppose that Pictor would have mentioned it; furthermore, although he came to Rome some time after Verrucosus’ death, Polybius got to know men who had themselves known Fabius Verrucosus. His was quite probably an informed opinion. While it is perfectly possible that Rullianus may have been awarded the name on account of his achievements, or on account of one act in particular, it is just as possible that the title may have been bestowed upon him (and obviously at a much later date) simply because it was evocative of Verrucosus. As was discussed in Chapter I, names were especially important, and, as will be seen in this section and as has been argued already in the previous one, Rullianus was, in the tradition of the later part of his career in particular, repeatedly presented in a manner which is immediately evocative of Verrucosus. In fact, on occasion the two men were treated as though they were the same person. It is apparent that the tradition of Rullianus’ career has been embellished with all manner of episodes and events which have been adapted from the tradition of Verrucosus’ career. This should not be surprising. Both were members of the gens Fabia, and if members of the same gens were supposed to behave similarly, then the borrowing of episodes and anecdotes from the career of one Fabius in order to flesh out the tradition of another may have constituted (indeed, evidently did constitute) an acceptable method for devising plausible detail and plausible narrative. In the previous section a basic framework for the presentation of Fabius Rullianus’ career was established. In his youth, Fabius Rullianus was rash and needed to be defended by his elderly father; with age, came the duty of defending his own rash son. With age came too, as will be seen shortly, the adoption of Fabius Verrucosus’ delay tactics; and the tradition of Rullianus’ later years is, as has been said already, filled with episodes which have clearly been inspired by the tradition of Verrucosus’ career, or have just been lifted from it and adapted for their new environment. The youthful Rullianus was rash; the elderly Rullianus was a delayer. It may be that the contrast between rash and cautious, and between swift and slow can also be associated, and certainly in Livy’s work, with the role of the cavalry (and this may be evocative of the rashness of Minucius Rufus, Verrucosus’ magister equitum). Fabius Rullianus behaved as the rash young Fabius most explicitly in 325 BC. At the time he was magister equitum and the cavalry was said to have played an important role in the battle which he fought with the Samnites. The cavalrymen removed the bridles from their horses so that they could attack with greater speed.199 This connection between Fabius Rullianus, the cavalry and speed can be found most directly in the establishment, by Rullianus during his censorship of 304, of the transvectio equitum, the equestrian parade in which the Celeres (‘an elite corps of aristocratic cavalry’ whose name means the Swift or the Quick) processed from the temple of Mars which stood outside the city on the Appian way to the temple of 199 Livy 8.30.6; Val. Max. 3.2.9.

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Castor in the Forum.200 Fabius Rullianus was, in contrast to this, associated with Fabius Verrucosus’ delay tactics most explicitly nearer the end of his career, in 295 BC, in which year he held his fifth and final consulship. This was the year in which the battle of Sentinum took place. The tradition of this battle is extremely important, as it shows quite clearly the extent to which the literary tradition has been affected by the belief that Rullianus must have behaved in a manner akin to his gentilis, Fabius Verrucosus. In this battle Rullianus’ relationship with the cavalry is noticeably different too. Rullianus was elected consul for 295, with P. Decius Mus as his colleague, expressly because the military situation was severe.201 The tradition of events prior to the consuls’ departure from the city is extremely difficult, but there are some elements in it which may be worth mentioning. Livy’s account of events in this year is in several respects reminiscent of events in 205, the year in which P. Cornelius Scipio (the man who brought the war with Hannibal to an end) held his first consulship. The patricians, Livy says, wished to assign Etruria to Fabius without the customary casting of lots; likewise Africa was, according to rumour at least, to be assigned to Cornelius Scipio without the casting of lots.202 In 295 as in 205 lengthy debate about the allocation of provinces took place; in both years a Fabius was involved (Rullianus in 295, Verrucosus in 205).203 During the course of the debate of 295 Decius Mus suggested that he might end the war which had been begun by Rullianus, just as Scipio proposed that he might finish the struggle with Hannibal.204 After the debate had been concluded, Fabius departed for Etruria with volunteers, just as Scipio departed for Sicily with volunteers.205 These several parallels may perhaps give some further significance to something which Livy has Rullianus say. For, according to Livy, Fabius declared that, when one man planted a tree, it was not right that another man should harvest its fruit.206 The comment is, to a certain extent, applicable to the events of 295,207 but 200 Livy 9.46.15; Val. Max. 2.2.9; Wiseman (1995) 126–27, 140 (whence the description of the Celeres), (1995a) 11–12. A different route for the parade is found in De vir. ill. 32.3, on which, see Fugmann (2004) 159–62 (note the suggestion that Cicero may have got Rullianus and Verrucosus confused); Beck (2005) 276–77, 299–300. Rullianus’ association with swift cavalry action may have come to an end in 297 (see Livy 10.14.10–16); it is essentially over by 295 (see below), by which time Rullianus has become a delayer. On the Fabii and the cavalry, cf. also Montanari (1973) 71–75. 201 MRR I, 177; on his election, for which a parallel may be found in Verrucosus’ career, see below. 202 Livy 10.24.3 (also 10.24.10–12, 10.24.16, 10.24.18, 10.26.5), 28.40.1. 203 Livy 10.24.1–18 (but note also 10.25.11–26.6), 28.40.2–45.11. 204 Livy 10.24.13, 28.40.1. 205 Livy 10.25.1–4, 28.45.13–46.1. Wheeler (1988) 184–85 also finds an ‘echo’ of the events of 217 in Livy’s account of the early events of 295. 206 Livy 10.24.5: Fabius, quam arborem consevisset, sub ea legere alium fructum indignum esse dicere. 207 Or rather, is made to be applicable: Livy 10.24.5 has Fabius refer to his expedition into the Ciminian forest in Etruria, but the Romans fought the Gauls and the Samnites in particular at Sentinum; and since these peoples had united against the Romans, the latter did not need to be able to cross Etruria to meet them in battle.

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it is also very easy to see how the comment (especially since it is put into the mouth of a Fabius) could be applied to the Hannibalic War. It was thanks to Fabius Verrucosus’ delay tactics that Hannibal had been neutralised and Rome’s forces preserved; Scipio, by invading Africa and bringing the war to an end, it could be argued, merely harvested the fruit from the tree which had been planted by Verrucosus.208 Fabius Rullianus’ comment is also significant because of the manner in which he was said to have waged war in this year: he secured victory by delaying. Despite the disagreement about the allocation of provinces, in the end Fabius Rullianus and Decius Mus both set out on campaign together. Near Sentinum, in Umbria, they met and fought a large army comprised of Gauls and Samnites, and, according to some, Umbrians and Etruscans as well. The latter peoples are not, however, mentioned by Polybius, and Livy, in his account, includes a rather contrived story of a diversion to explain why the Etruscans and Umbrians were not in the end present at the battle.209 According to Livy, whose account is by far the fullest extant, the Gauls were drawn up on the right-hand side of the field; opposite them was Decius Mus with the fifth and sixth legions. On the left were the Samnites, against whom Fabius Rullianus led the first and third legions.210 The battle commenced, and from the outset the exploits of the two consuls stood in stark contrast.211 Fabius adopted a policy of delay, ordering his men to defend rather than attack, so that the enemy soldiers might exhaust themselves.212 This is, of course, the very same tactic which Fabius Verrucosus employed against Hannibal, and Livy later makes the parallel explicit. Rullianus, he says, prolonged the battle cunctando, by delaying.213 It is Livy’s use of this particular word which makes the connection with Verrucosus’ strategy so exceedingly obvious. However, even if Livy had not used this word, it is still abundantly clear that his whole account of the battle and Rullianus’ part in it has been extensively written up, precisely so that Rullianus is made to behave in a manner which is immediately evocative of Fabius Verrucosus. Inevita208 Cf. Polyaenus Strat. 8.14.2; Livy has Fabius address the accusation that it was on account of jealousy that he was opposed to Scipio’s invasion of Africa: 28.40.8–14, cf. also 28.41.3, 28.41.8; Plut. Fab. 25.3–4. 209 Livy 10.27.5–6: the consuls arranged for Etruscan territory to be ravaged; this resulted in the Etruscans setting out to defend their land; presumably the Umbrians went with them (cf. 10.27.11), according to Frontin. Strat. 1.8.3 and Oros. 3.21.3 they did (Orosius has the Umbrians’ land attacked too). For exaggerated claims about the battle, see Livy 10.30.4–7. Polyb. 2.19.5–6 speaks only of Gauls and Samnites. On the peoples involved, see also n. 223 below, on Fabius’ triumph. 210 Livy 10.27.10. 211 Livy 10.28.1 draws attention to this. 212 Livy 10.28.2–5; Frontin. Strat. 2.1.8: hostem mora fatigarent. 213 Livy 10.29.8: Fabius in dextro primo, ut ante dictum est, cunctando extraxerat diem; Harris (1971) 73; Oakley (2005a) 290, 326. Wiseman (1995) 108–11, 139–40 argues that rashness was a patrician characteristic; if so, Rullianus’ delay tactics in 295 are that much more striking. For Chaplin (2000) 113 age is the crucial theme in Livy’s narrative of Sentinum, but in order to focus on this, Chaplin passes over the presentation of Rullianus as Verrucosus (who was, as noted earlier, an old man at the time of Hannibal’s invasion).

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bly therefore the speed, the temerity and the rashness which had earlier characterised Rullianus’ career are entirely absent. Nor did Rullianus’ cavalry charge. It was instead Rullianus’ colleague, Decius Mus, who rushed headlong into battle, and it was he who ordered the cavalry to charge. For Livy, this is a sign of Decius’ youth, and the cavalrymen with whom he dashed into the midst of the enemy are similarly described as youthful.214 Although Decius’ audacity at first brought some success,215 before long it resulted in his downfall. For he and the other cavalrymen were soon surrounded, deep inside the Gallic ranks; and the enemy, attacking from chariots and wagons, broke the Roman cavalry and inflicted considerable damage on the infantry.216 Decius tried to halt the ensuing flight, but was unable to do so. Therefore, summoning to his side M. Livius, a pontifex with whom he had gone into battle, Decius Mus did what any Decius Mus would plausibly have done in his situation. He devoted himself.217 Livy makes much of Decius’ devotio, and it is for him the turning point of the battle on the left wing: discipline was restored amongst the Romans while the Gauls were allegedly struck dumb. M. Livius, to whom Decius had entrusted his command, then rallied the soldiers and, reinforced by reserves which had been sent by Fabius (the Fabii always try to rescue their colleagues), renewed the attack on the Gauls, who were now massed behind their shields.218 At this point, Livy crosses back to the Roman right. The contrast is immense. With his policy of delay Fabius had worn out his opponents and, seeing this, he ordered the cavalry, not to charge, but to circle the Samnites and attack them in the flank. He himself instructed his infantry to push forward gradually.219 The tactics were a resounding success, for as soon as Fabius gave the signal and the push began, the Samnites broke and fled to their camp.220 Learning of Decius’ demise, Fabius sent the Campanian cavalry along with the principes of the third legion to dispatch the last of the Gauls.221 He himself then promised the spoils of the battle (which, after its conclusion, he burnt) and a temple to Jupiter Victor, and set out for 214 Livy 10.28.6–7: ferocior Decius et aetate et vigore animi, quantumcumque virium habuit certamine primo effudit. et quia lentior videbatur pedestris pugna, equitatum in pugnam concitat et ipse fortissimae iuvenum turmae immixtus orat proceres iuventutis, in hostem ut secum impetum faciant: duplicem illorum gloriam fore, si ab laevo cornu et ab equite victoria incipiat. In contrast, Livy’s Fabius has elsewhere made much of his age: Livy 10.13.6, 10.24.6, cf. also 10.15.9 and 10.22.2. 215 Livy 10.28.8. 216 Livy 10.28.8–11. 217 Livy 10.28.12–18; see Chapter I, section 2.2. 218 Livy 10.29.1–7; 10.29.5: L. Cornelius Scipio et C. Marcius, cum subsidiis ex novissima acie iussu Q. Fabi consulis ad praesidium collegae missi. 219 Livy 10.29.8–9, 10.29.9: praefectis equitum iussis ad latus Samnitium circumducere alas, ut signo dato in transversos quanto maximo possent impetu incurrerent, sensim suos signa inferre iussit et commovere hostem. 220 Livy 10.29.10–11; note that the cavalry made its charge only after the Samnites had first been worn out by Fabius’ tactics of delay; Oakley (2005a) 280. 221 Livy 10.29.12–13.

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the Samnite camp, which he soon captured.222 Thereafter Fabius returned to Rome and celebrated a triumph over the Gauls, the Etruscans and the Samnites.223 Fabius Rullianus’ victory in the battle of Sentinum was almost certainly the most illustrious moment of his career. The battle of Sentinum was undoubtedly the most important battle that the Romans had ever fought. If there had previously been any doubts about Rullianus’ credentials as one of the greatest generals of his day, those doubts must have been well and truly dispelled by this victory. Moreover, Fabius Rullianus was also one of the greatest generals that the gens Fabia ever produced. As he was a great Fabian general, it would have been quite plausible (to a Roman, that is) to suppose that he must have behaved as great Fabian generals do. When Rome’s first historians began to write, and for some considerable time after that, the best and most familiar example of a great Fabian general was Fabius Verrucosus. It was perhaps inevitable therefore that Verrucosus’ behaviour should have come to serve as the model on which the tradition of Rullianus’ behaviour was based. Once Rullianus had begun to behave as Fabius Verrucosus did, there could be no going back, as the tradition of the rest of his career shows. Q. Fabius Verrucosus was made suffect consul in 215 BC, after the death of the consul L. Postumius Albinus in Gaul and after the election of Albinus’ replacement, M. Claudius Marcellus, had been deemed to be invalid. Thunder had been heard as Marcellus entered office; the augurs had been consulted and they had declared that Marcellus’ election was defective. The patres were of the opinion, claims Livy, that the gods did not approve of the appointment of two plebeian consuls (Albinus’ colleague was the plebeian Ti. Sempronius Gracchus, and Claudius Marcellus was likewise a plebeian). Marcellus abdicated and the patrician Q. Fabius Verrucosus was made consul in his place.224 Later in that same year, in his capacity as consul, Fabius Verrucosus oversaw the consular elections. The voting began, and the first century to cast its vote did so for T. Otacilius and M. Aemilius Regillus. At this point, Livy says, Fabius called for silence and addressed the people. In his speech he insisted upon the importance of electing a consul suitable for the current crisis, the war with Hannibal; against Hannibal, there was no room for error; the Romans therefore needed to elect a man who was his equal; M. Aemilius Regillus was not suitable as he was the flamen Quirinalis, while T. Otacilius had shown during his recent naval operations that he was just not up to the task in hand. Urging the voters to elect capable generals, Fabius ordered that the voting begin again, and then sent his lictors to silence the protests of Otacilius. The final outcome was the appointment of Q. Fabius Verrucosus to his fourth consulship and M. Claudius Marcellus to his third. As far as Fabius was 222 Livy 10.29.14–18. 223 So Livy 10.30.8, and so also the Fasti triumphales, Degrassi (1947) 73; quite different is the account of the De vir. ill. 32.1: tertio de Gallis, Umbris, Marsis atque Tuscis triumphavit, although note 27.3 and 34.5; cf. Beloch (1926) 443; Salmon (1967) 265; Harris (1971) 71–73; Fugmann (2004) 154–55. 224 Livy 23.31.12–14; Plut. Marc. 12.1.

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concerned, the needs of the state were more important than any unpopularity that he might acquire from the incident.225 The dictator Q. Fulvius Flaccus presided over the election of consuls for 209. The first to vote did so for Fulvius himself, and for Fabius Verrucosus, and the rest, Livy claims, would have voted similarly. Two of the tribunes intervened, however, as they were opposed to the continuous holding of office by the same men, and to the idea that the magistrate conducting the elections should preside over his own appointment. In reply, the dictator drew attention to a resolution passed earlier, which allowed the people, so long as there was war in Italy, to elect former consuls, and to do so as often as they wished. Fulvius Flaccus also pointed out that Fabius Verrucosus would not have allowed himself to be elected to office again, were it not in the interests of the state. As far as the senators were concerned, Livy says, the current situation (namely the war with Hannibal) called for the election of experienced and skilled commanders. Q. Fulvius Flaccus and Q. Fabius Verrucosus were then duly elected.226 Several stories somewhat reminiscent of these were also told about Q. Fabius Rullianus. None of the stories involving Rullianus is at all likely to be historical,227 and so they may conceivably owe their existence to the tendency to attribute to Rullianus, in the later part of his career especially, behaviour noticeably akin to Verrucosus’. Not all the parallels between these two sets of stories are, by modern standards at least, direct or explicit, but there are some common themes that may be significant. They are certainly worthy of consideration, not least because, as was discussed in the Introduction to this book, ancient views regarding legitimate parallels and noteworthy points of comparison could differ significantly from modern. These several stories, therefore, may well constitute further evidence which suggests that Verrucosus’ behaviour and career provided a model of behaviour for the gens Fabia, with the result that various earlier members of the gens could naturally and quite plausibly (to a Roman mind, that is) be supposed to have behaved as Verrucosus had done. According to Licinius Macer and Aelius Tubero, Fabius Rullianus was nearly made consul for 299 BC. He was not a candidate, but all the centuries chose him nonetheless. Rullianus then addressed the voters and urged them to elect him as consul in a more bellicose year; at present, he would be of more use, he said, if he held an urban magistracy. As a consequence, he was elected curule aedile.228 The 225 Livy 24.7.11–9.3, 24.9.11: quin laudabant potius magnitudinem animi quod, cum summo imperatore esse opus rei publicae sciret seque eum haud dubie esse, minoris invidiam suam, si qua ea re oreretur, quam utilitatem rei publicae fecisset. 226 Livy 27.6.2–11. 227 See Oakley (2005a) 141–43 on these episodes; Münzer (1909) 1807–8; also Forsythe (1994) 347–49; Raimondi (1995), who argues that Livy has drawn upon the work of an annalist who wrote during the age of Marius and Sulla, and who projected the issues of that time into the past. 228 Macer fr. 19P and Tubero fr. 7P (= Livy 10.9.10–11); his colleague was Papirius Cursor; but none of this is certain, Livy says, for Piso (fr. 28P = fr. 38 Forsythe = Livy 10.9.12) had named as aediles for this year the plebeians Cn. Domitius Calvinus and Sp. Carvilius Maximus (whose cognomen, common to Carvilius and Rullianus, Livy suggests, was the cause of the confusion).

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several parallels with the election of 215 BC, and the reversals, are obvious: the misplaced votes of the centuries; the address made by Fabius during the course of the voting; the need to choose suitable candidates; the idea that a Fabius should be elected consul when the military situation required that a Fabius be in command; and finally, the election of a Fabius to office even though he was not a candidate. Shortly afterwards, at the elections for 297,229 the Romans again turned to Fabius Rullianus, for the coming year promised to be extremely bellicose. Rullianus was again not standing for office and, Livy says, actually declined to do so. He was old, he said, or so Livy reports, and finished with such labours and their rewards;230 besides, while Fortune had hitherto been favourable, to continue would be to invite the scrutiny of the gods; and other men stood ready. His moderation, however, only encouraged his supporters. Fabius then ordered that the law which forbade iteration of the consulship within a ten year period be read aloud (a detail which may confirm that the story is a later fabrication).231 The people, Livy claims, shouted this down and the plebeian tribunes promised to arrange dispensation for him. Still Fabius refused, and he chastised those who so readily discarded the laws of the state. Despite his protests, all the centuries elected him anyway. Finally forced to concede to victory at the polls, Fabius addressed the Roman citizens and requested that P. Decius Mus be made his colleague, and so the remaining centuries to cast their vote did so for Fabius and for Decius Mus. Once again, there are similar themes here: the misplaced votes of the centuries, or so Fabius thought; Fabius’ address to the voters during the course of the election, who again follow his recommendation (to elect Decius Mus, at least, if not his initial requests); the appointment of a Fabius when the military situation looked bleak; and the election of a Fabius, even though he was not standing. The discussion of the legislation regarding the iteration of office may also be significant. At the end of his term in office Fabius Rullianus was charged with supervising the consular elections for 296.232 yet again, the first centuries to vote did so for him. On this occasion, however, it was Ap. Claudius Caecus, one of the candidates, who intervened. Appius sought to secure his own election alongside Rullianus, and thus 229 Livy 10.13.2–13. 230 Livy’s immediate source here may have been neither Macer nor Tubero; see Raimondi (1995) 154: ‘Inoltre, l’annotazione di Licinio Macro (e di Tuberone) secondo cui Fabio stesso avrebbe suggerito di rimandare la sua elezione in bellicosiorem annum (10,9,10) sembra un poco in contrasto con la caratterizzazione del Rulliano, vecchio e privo di energia che ritroviamo a 10,13 (nec corporis nec animi vigorem remanere eundem)’. It is, however, difficult to know what Livy himself has added at this point. Note also the possible parallels here with Verrucosus’ speech in 205, Livy 28.40.9–13. 231 Presumably the reference is to the lex Genucia of 342 (Billows [1989] 114 n. 3 and 129 n. 31). Billows (1989) convincingly argues that the ban on iteration of the consulship within a ten year period was not imposed until c. 200; this appears to be confirmed by those numerous earlier instances of iteration (listed by Billows [1989] 116 n. 8; Oakley [1998] 25, in contrast, argues that this persistent iteration can be explained away on the basis of military needs). 232 Livy 10.15.7–12; allowances must be made in this episode for the presentation of Ap. Claudius Caecus, a controversial figure (on whom cf., for instance, Chapter I, the first paragraph of section 3.1); see Humm (2001) 88–89; Wiseman (1979) 89.

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the election of two patrician candidates. But Fabius objected, and repeated his arguments of the previous year. All the nobility, Livy claims, then gathered around Fabius’ seat and urged him to restore the consulship to its former dignity. At this point, Fabius called for silence. He was not opposed, he said, to the idea of two patrician consuls,233 but only if someone other than himself were to be chosen; he would not, however, allow himself to be elected, as it was contrary to the law and would set an undesirable precedent. Thus the patrician consul elected to office was Ap. Claudius Caecus; his colleague was the plebeian L. Volumnius Flamma. The themes in this episode are again similar, but there is obviously a further element to this particular story, one which may possibly have some relevance to such themes as the concordia ordinum and the good of the state. M. Claudius Marcellus’ election as suffect consul in 215 was deemed invalid by the augurs, amongst whom, it should be noted, was Q. Fabius Verrucosus; the problem, the patres claimed, with Marcellus’ appointment was that it meant that two plebeians were holding office. Here the situation is reversed. It was not the appointment of two plebeian consuls that was the issue, but of two patrician. If Verrucosus the augur had indeed played a role in annulling Marcellus’ appointment, it may be significant that in 297 it was Fabius Rullianus who opposed the appointment of himself, and thus ultimately prevented the election of two patrician consuls, even if Livy had made him say that he was not opposed to the idea. It is, however, necessary to take the involvement of Ap. Claudius Caecus into account; the presentation of the patrician Claudii may be a more influential element in this particular story. L. Volumnius Flamma, the consul of 296, oversaw the elections for 295,234 the year in which the great battle of Sentinum took place, the battle in which Fabius Rullianus secured victory by delaying. By the time of the elections it was quite apparent that the military situation was severe, and Volumnius, according to Livy, addressed the people before they voted. They were choosing now consuls who would be fighting four different peoples; but, he said, were it not for the fact that he was convinced that the people would elect as consul the one man who was without doubt the foremost leader of the day, then he would have himself appointed that man dictator. There was, however, Livy says, no doubt that Rullianus would be elected, and the first centuries to cast their votes all did so for him. Once again, Fabius repeated his speech of two years earlier, but the people paid him no heed, and again, he gave way before their will and simply requested that P. Decius be made his colleague.235 Livy then gives Fabius an indirect speech in which he spoke of the harmony between himself and Decius. Volumnius concurred with Fabius, and 233 As Münzer (1909) 1807 notes, there is a parallel here with the behaviour of Rullianus’ father (RE 44); see Livy 7.17.10–18.1, 7.19.5–6, 7.22.1–3, 7.22.10; note too 7.18.9–10 on the election of M. Fabius Ambustus to his third consulship: the story is reminiscent of the election of K. Fabius for 484. 234 Livy 10.21.13–22.9. 235 Pais (1920) 213 n. 3: ‘La tradizione a noi pervenuta cercava del resto provare che Q. Fabio Verrucoso Cunctator aveva accettato l’iterazione del consolato per il 214, non per ambizione personale, ma nel puro interesse dello Stato… Lo stesso contegno si attribuiva a Fabio Rulliano’.

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spoke also of the perils of discord; he praised Fabius and Decius and concluded with an attack on Ap. Claudius and his civil arts. When the elections were finally held, Fabius and Decius were selected as consuls, Ap. Claudius as praetor, and all three were elected in absentia, although Livy does not say where Fabius and Decius were. Once more the themes here are familiar: the military situation was serious; a capable general was needed; a Fabius was elected. Just as Fabius Verrucosus’ speech in 215 about the need to appoint capable generals had led to his election, so Volumnius’ speech in 296 led to Fabius Rullianus’ election; and, in their consulships, Verrucosus continued with his policy of delay, while Rullianus adopted one. Although it does not come through explicitly in Livy’s account, it is worth considering the possibility that P. Decius Mus, mentioned several times in these episodes, is to be seen here as a foil for Fabius Rullianus, in the same way as M. Claudius Marcellus, Rome’s ‘sword’ against Hannibal, was a foil for Fabius Verrucosus, Rome’s ‘shield’.236 In 215 Verrucosus’ speech led to the election of himself and, as his colleague, M. Claudius Marcellus. In 297 and in 295 Rullianus’ colleague was P. Decius Mus, and, at the battle of Sentinum, while Fabius secured victory by delaying, Decius rushed forth and was killed. It is not inconceivable that there may be something of a parallel here with Marcellus; certainly, in his account of 214, in which year Verrucosus and Marcellus held the consulship together, Livy has the old men of Rome remember the consular pair, Rullianus and Decius Mus.237 Moreover, if there is any such parallel here, it must be something pertinent to the Fabii, since the two other men involved, Decius and Marcellus, were from different families. Finally, a similar episode is found in Valerius Maximus.238 A certain Fabius Maximus, almost certainly Rullianus,239 but possibly Verrucosus, having himself been elected as consul five times, his father, grandfather, great-grandfather and other ancestors having often been consuls, spoke out when the election of his son to that same office seemed imminent and requested that his family be given some respite from the magistracy. He did not doubt the merits of his son, but at the same time he did not wish for the highest office of the state to be held so frequently by one family. This story, which is much less reminiscent of anything told about Fabius Verrucosus, is consistent in many respects with the several stories told about Rullianus, in which reluctance to hold office is a recurring theme. The author of the De viris illustribus, in his biography of Rullianus, adds another such example: Rullianus refused to be made censor a second time; he said that it was not in the interests of the state for the same men to hold the censorship too often.240 The theme of concern for the interests of the state has been discussed already. The further themes 236 For Marcellus as the ‘sword’ and Fabius as the ‘shield’, see n. 31 above; note esp. Plut. Fab. 19.1–5. 237 Livy 24.9.7–8; although the old men also recalled the pairing of Papirius and Carvilius. 238 Val. Max. 4.1.5; cf. Polyaenus Strat. 8.15. For a rather elaborate discussion of Valerius’ story, see Borghini (1989). 239 Münzer (1909) 1808 dates this to 292 BC; so too Pais (1920) 212–13 n. 2. 240 De vir. ill. 32.2; see Fugmann (2004) 157–58 on this.

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of moderation and appropriateness can perhaps be found also in the story, discussed earlier, of M. Fabius Vibulanus’ refusal of a triumph.241 Other episodes demonstrate much more clearly the extent to which the tradition of Fabius Rullianus’ career appears to have been affected by, indeed modelled on, the career of Fabius Verrucosus. In 213 BC Q. Fabius Maximus, the son of Fabius Verrucosus, was consul. Despite his age and the many honours which had accrued to him, Fabius Verrucosus served under his son as his legate. A famous story was told about this. Fabius Verrucosus approached his son, the consul, on horseback. As he drew near – or, following Livy’s account, as he rode past the consul’s lictors – Fabius Maximus sent one of his lictors to order his father to dismount. In Livy’s account, Verrucosus’ response reveals that he was merely testing his son, to make sure that he was aware that he was consul. In Plutarch’s, Fabius Maximus’ order caused offence to those present, but Verrucosus in contrast was pleased and approved of his son’s behaviour. It demonstrated that he appreciated both the nature of the office which the Roman people had entrusted to him, and that the good of the state came before parents and children.242 Plutarch then immediately follows this with another story of a similar nature. This story, however, involves Fabius Rullianus. In 292 Q. Fabius Gurges, the son of Fabius Rullianus, was consul. Despite his age and the many honours which had accrued to him, Fabius Rullianus served under his son as his legate. Later, at his triumph, Rullianus’ son entered the city riding in a four-horse chariot, but Rullianus himself merely followed behind on horseback with the rest. However illustrious his career, Rullianus remained subservient to the law and to an elected magistrate of the state.243 While the precise details are different, the behaviour of both father and son in these two episodes, and the sentiment of both stories, are all essentially identical. Valerius Maximus also relates the episode of 213, but he handles it in a slightly different manner and, as a result, compares it with a different story, but one nonetheless involving Gurges and Rullianus. It was customary, Valerius says, that no man should ever come between a consul and the lictor nearest to him. Thus, when Fabius Rullianus was invited by his son Gurges, who was then consul, to walk between him and his lictor so that none of the Samnites with whom they were about to meet might push him, Rullianus refused. Valerius then goes on to relate the story involving Verrucosus and his son. He essentially follows Livy’s version, in which Verrucosus rode past eleven of his son’s lictors and was stopped only by the last of them, the one standing nearest to the consul.244 Both these stories therefore are used by Valerius to illustrate the custom that no one should come between a consul and his nearest lictor. Again, while the details of the stories are different, the behaviour of the elder Fabius in each is identical. Verrucosus was one of the two greatest he241 See n. 94 above. 242 Claud. Quad. fr. 57P (= Gell. NA 2.2.13), in which version Verrucosus was proconsul; Livy 24.44.9–10; Plut. Fab. 24.1–2, Apophth. Fab. 7. For Valerius Maximus’ version, see below. 243 Val. Max. 5.7.1; Plut. Fab. 24.3. Münzer (1909) 1810–11; Pais (1920) 213; Salmon (1967) 274–75; Walter (2004) 413. 244 Val. Max. 2.2.4a–b.

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roes of the Fabian house; Rullianus was the other. Inevitably they must have behaved in a similar fashion. The belief that they had meant that events from Verrucosus’ career could be recast and adapted as a means of devising plausible detail with which the tradition of Rullianus’ career could be fleshed out and embellished. There is one further element in Valerius’ account which should be noted. Valerius actually conflates Rullianus and Verrucosus.245 While this is presumably nothing more than a simple error, it shows very clearly that the similarities in the presentation of these two men were such that, in a moment of carelessness, Rullianus and Verrucosus could be treated as the same person. The final element in the tradition of Rullianus’ life which, in all probability, owes its existence to the career of his most famous descendent concerns his funeral. After Verrucosus died, the people contributed money (Valerius says, in a competitive spirit) to pay for his funeral. Similarly, after Rullianus died, the people contributed money, enough to allow for Rullianus’ son to distribute meat and hold a public feast. The tradition concerning Verrucosus’ funeral is found in Valerius Maximus and in Plutarch’s biography, the tradition concerning Rullianus’ in the late, anonymous work, the De viris illustribus only.246 It is more likely that the story of Rullianus’ funeral has been styled upon the tradition of Verrucosus’,247 although the two stories could equally be later inventions. However the parallel may have come about, the motive for its fabrication is obvious enough. Here is yet further evidence which shows how the Roman belief that individual members of the same gens lead similar lives and behave similarly has had a significant (and, by modern standards, extremely detrimental) impact on the literary tradition. 8. THE PIETy OF THE FABII Numerous members of the gens Fabia were said to have displayed a conspicuous concern for the gods and for the proper observance of religious custom.248 Several of the relevant episodes have been discussed already and others will be considered later, in Chapter III. Most of the episodes, therefore, need only be summarised here, although a few do require slightly fuller discussion. 245 Val. Max. 2.2.4a is the story involving Rullianus; 2.2.4b, the episode involving Verrucosus, begins idem… 246 Val. Max. 5.2.3; Plut. Fab. 27.2; De vir. ill. 32.4, on which, cf. Fugmann (2004) 162–63. 247 Fugmann (2004) 163 argues: ‘gegen eine Entlehnung aus der Biographie des Cunctators spricht einerseits das Schweigen des Livius in seiner abschließenden Würdigung des jüngeren Fabiers, andererseits daß die Viri illustres in ihrem Informationsgehalt (visceratio und epulum) deutlich über Valerius Maximus und Plutarch hinausgehen’; but it is dangerous to build any argument on Livy’s silence (and even more so since his account of Rullianus’ funeral is lost), and the inclusion of additional detail is of no great importance; it only serves to emphasise the esteem in which Rullianus was held; see instead, Münzer (1909) 1811; Pais (1920) 213. 248 See Walter (2003) 267: ‘So erscheinen in der historiographischen Tradition fast alle Claudier als Reaktionäre und Plebeierfeinde, die Valerier hingegen als volksfreundliche Vorkämpfer von libertas; die Manlier waren besonders streng, die Fabier überaus fromm’.

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First, there is the probable model. Again, it is Q. Fabius Verrucosus, a man who was, unusually, both an augur and a pontiff.249 As was discussed in section 2 above, after the defeat of Flaminius in battle on the shores of Lake Trasimene, Fabius Verrucosus was appointed dictator. After his appointment, his first measures were concerned with ensuring the correct performance of religious rites, many of which Flaminius was supposed to have neglected. This display of piety was not simply due to the need to curtail despair and salvage hope after the destruction of a Roman army and the death of a consul. Verrucosus was said to have been careful to pay due attention to divine matters on other occasions too. Thus, for instance, during his campaign of 217 he was forced to return to Rome, and leave Minucius Rufus in charge of the army, in order to perform certain religious observances; despite the military situation, religious obligations still had to be honoured. Perhaps the next most pertinent example of his pious behaviour is found in a story associated with his escape from a trap set for him by Hannibal. The latter was said to have forged letters which he sent to Fabius; these letters ostensibly came from Metapontum, and claimed that the city would be surrendered to Verrucosus, should he come. Deceived by this ruse, Verrucosus planned to set out for Metapontum. Before he did so, however, he consulted the auspices. They were unfavourable and so he did not go. Shortly afterwards, it was discovered that the letters had been forged.250 In 484 K. Fabius planned to set out to rescue his colleague L. Aemilius. Before he did so, he consulted the auspices. They were unfavourable and so he did not go. However, since the Fabii also rescue their colleagues, K. Fabius nonetheless dispatched a contingent of men to assist Aemilius.251 According to the more widely attested version of events, the three hundred Fabii who set out for Cremera in 479 were killed when they were lured into an ambush laid by their opponents.252 An important variant tradition is found in Dionysius’ account. He says that the Fabii were destroyed as they made their way back to Rome in order to carry out an important religious rite, the performance of which fell upon the gens. On the road they were ambushed and wiped out.253 It is not impossible that this story can be associated with another alternative tradition. According to this, the three hundred Fabii were not killed on the eighteenth of July, as the predominant tradition claimed, but on the thirteenth of February.254 The festival of the Lupercalia took place on the fifteenth of February, and since one of the two groups of Luperci (the Luperci Fabiani) was associated with the Fabii, it has been sug249 Livy 23.21.7, 30.26.7–10; Rüpke (2008) no. 1595 (with further references). An elaborate hypothesis about, among other things, the piety of Fabius Verrucosus (and Fabius Pictor) can be found in Arcella (1995). 250 Livy 27.16.11–16; Plut. Fab. 19.6; no mention of unfavourable auspices in Zon. 9.8. 251 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.86.7–8. 252 Livy 2.50.3–11; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.20.1–21.6; Ovid Fast. 2.213–36. 253 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.19.1–3. 254 Ovid Fast. 2.193–96; Ogilvie (1965) 360–61 argues that the variant date is discernable in Livy’s account; Ogilvie’s argument is accepted by Harries (1991) 153, but is rightly rejected by Richard (1992) 418. See Chapter III, section 5 on the significance of the better attested date of the eighteenth of July.

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gested that, in Dionysius’ variant, the Fabii may have been returning to Rome to participate in this festival.255 Regardless of whether or not this reconstruction is correct, Dionysius’ variant tradition clearly constitutes in itself a further illustration of Fabian piety, and it may also be evocative of Verrucosus’ return to the city in 217 from his campaign, for that too was for religious reasons. Despite the military situation, religious obligations still had to be honoured. After the defeat of the Romans in the battle of Cannae, an ambassador was sent to Delphi, to consult the oracle. The man chosen for this duty was Q. Fabius Pictor, the historian.256 His selection is widely viewed as evidence of his philhellenism,257 but the theme of Fabian piety should not be overlooked, especially since, according to tradition, he was not the first member of his gens to visit the Delphic oracle. The siege of Veii was a protracted affair which was said to have lasted for ten years. During the eighth year of the siege (398 BC), the waters of the Alban Lake inexplicably began to rise, and this was something which the Romans took to be an omen.258 The tradition contains two stories concerning the interpretation of this omen. According to the first,259 a soothsayer of Veii revealed the significance of the omen; he was tricked by a Roman soldier and forced to explain all in the Senate. According to the second,260 the Romans sent ambassadors to Delphi to ask the oracle what the omen meant. One of the ambassadors was Fabius Ambustus.261 The interpretation of the omen is the same in both stories (namely that Veii would fall only when the waters of the Alban Lake no longer reached the sea), although the Delphic oracle requested a gift and added that an ancient ritual which had been neglected by the Romans should also be restored. While these two stories are usually combined by the ancient authorities and made to complement one another, they are not universally treated in this way,262 and omens do not often require two such stories to explain their meaning. 255 For the Luperci Fabiani, see Ovid Fast. 2.375–78; Paul. Fest. 78L; Rüpke (2008) no. 3160 and no. 3480. Ogilvie (1965) 360: ‘It is held that in choosing this date [Ovid] is deferring to the private chronology of the Fabii who associated it with their festival of the Lupercalia’. There are some difficulties with these ideas however; see the discussion in Richard (1988) 220–22, who rightly points out that Ovid follows the version in which the Fabii were tricked and ambushed; he does not have the Fabii return home to perform any religious rite (Fast. 2.213–36), and Richard (1992). Lefèvre (1980) argues that Ovid’s date for the disaster at Cremera is of Ovid’s own devising; Fraschetti (1998), in contrast, connects Ovid’s date with the parentationes of the gens Fabia. 256 Livy 22.57.5, 23.11.1–6; Plut. Fab. 18.3; App. Hann. 27. 257 E. g., Badian (1966) 2; Momigliano (1966) 56, (1990) 88, but Momigliano also notes his reputation for piety; Gruen (1992) 230–31, 242; Beck and Walter (2001) 57; see Arcella (1995) esp. 248–50 on Pictor’s embassy and the theme of piety. 258 Cic. Div. 1.100; Livy 5.15.1–3; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 12.10(11); Val. Max. 1.6.3; Plut. Cam. 3; Zon. 7.20. 259 Cic. Div. 1.100; Livy 5.15.4–12; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 12.11(13)–12(15); Val. Max. 1.6.3; Plut. Cam. 4.1–3; Zon. 7.20. 260 Livy 5.15.3, 5.16.8–11; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 12.10(12), 12.12(16); Val. Max. 1.6.3; Plut. Cam. 4.4–5; Zon. 7.20. 261 Plut. Cam. 4.4. 262 Cf. Cic. Div. 1.100.

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The story of the omen itself and the stories of its interpretation are clearly unhistorical.263 While it is quite conceivable that the tradition of the Delphic expedition of 398 was invented in order to provide a parallel and, above all, a precedent for Fabius Pictor’s expedition after Cannae, the tradition inevitably provides further evidence, not just for the theme of Fabian piety, but also for the belief that members of the same gens tend to behave in similar ways and consequently often end up doing similar or even the very same things. Two stories associated with the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome need be noted only briefly, as they will be discussed in more detail in Chapter III. Before the Gauls took the city, the pontifex maximus led, and joined, the old men of Rome in carrying out a devotio. According to one version, the pontifex maximus was a certain ‘Fabius’.264 Later, when the city was occupied by the Gauls, and the Capitol hill placed under siege by them, Fabius Dorsuo nonetheless performed important religious rites which were due. According to one version, the rites he performed were for Vesta, according to another, they were rites which fell upon the gens Fabia.265 In both versions, however, Dorsuo had to leave the safety of the Roman defences on the Capitol and march through the lines of the besieging Gauls. Once he had completed the rites, he resumed his position on the Capitol. Despite the military situation, religious obligations still had to be honoured. C. Fabius Ambustus was consul in 358. The Tarquinienses had been plundering Rome’s territory, and so C. Fabius and his colleague declared war on them. The ensuing campaign was allotted to Fabius.266 But, Livy says, he engaged his foe with neither care nor caution, and so was defeated.267 Greater disaster soon followed. Three hundred and seven of the Romans under Fabius’ command were captured and offered up by the Tarquinienses as a sacrifice.268 It has been well noted that this episode offers something of a parallel with the deaths of the three hundred Fabii at Cremera,269 and C. Fabius’ lack of care may conceivably be another instance of Fabian rashness. Four years later, in 354, M. Fabius Ambustus was consul. During this year another battle was fought with the Tarquinienses, although Livy does not say by which consul, M. Fabius or his colleague. This time the Romans were victo263 Pace Ogilvie (1965) 659, 660–61; Forsythe (1994) 316–17. The story of the tunnels used to drain the lake is obviously aetiological, and there is variation in the tradition surrounding the dedication at Delphi (compare Diod. 14.93.2–5; Livy 5.16.11, 5.21.2, 5.25.4–6, 5.28.1–5; Plut. Cam. 7.5–8.5; App. Ital. 8; Zon. 7.21). 264 Plut. Cam. 21.3. Livy, however, calls him Folius; see Chapter III, n. 39. 265 Vesta: Cass. Hem. fr. 19P = fr. 23 Santini = App. Celt. fr. 6; family rites: Livy 5.46.2; see Chapter III, sections 2, 3 and 4. Cf. Richard (1990) 186–87. See Montanari (1973) 122–23 on the parallels between the story of Fabius Dorsuo and Dionysius’ variant tradition concerning the defeat of the Fabii at Cremera. 266 Diod. 16.23.1 (M. Fabius); Livy 7.12.6. C. Fabius is RE 40; see Oakley (1998) 156. 267 Livy 7.15.9: Fabius… incaute atque inconsulte adversus Tarquinienses pugnavit. 268 Livy 7.15.10. 269 Cf. variously Pais (1906) 174, (1915) 153–54; Münzer (1909) 1752; Beloch (1926) 361; Hubaux (1958) 330; De Sanctis (1960) 242; Ogilvie (1965) 359; Torelli (1975) 84–85; Oakley (1998) 173. Note too the story of the 300 Romans under Fabius Verrucosus who were killed fighting Hannibal, Plut. Parall. min. 4.

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rious. Three hundred and fifty-eight Tarquinienses were taken to Rome, scourged and beheaded in punishment for the earlier sacrifice of the three hundred and seven Romans.270 Although no source says that M. Fabius was in charge of these proceedings,271 it is worth drawing attention to them. The execution of the Tarquinienses stands in stark contrast to the Tarquinienses’ impious sacrifice of the Romans. If the theme here is proper religious conduct, then a further example of it may be found in the tradition of events in 356. In this year M. Fabius Ambustus had been consul, and he had similarly campaigned against the Tarquinienses. Upon the commencement of battle, Livy says, the enemy had inspired great dread and turmoil among the Roman soldiers, for they had sent forth a number of priests bearing flaming torches and carrying serpents, and these had rushed at the Romans like Furies. The soldiers were brought back into order when they were taunted for their childish behaviour by their commander and his officers.272 Presumably M. Fabius Ambustus could discriminate between proper religious practice and the fraudulent use of sacred imagery. In 298, when Fabius Rullianus realised that he was about to be elected as consul for the coming year, even though he was not running for office, he protested against this. One reason he gave for not standing was that he was afraid of Fortune, and the possibility that some god might judge that he had been too fortunate. After he had been elected, despite his protests, Fabius prayed that the gods might approve of what the Roman people had done.273 Subsequently, when he was nearly elected as consul for the following year, he repeated the same arguments, Livy says, which he had used in 298; and he repeated these arguments once more the year after that.274 These displays of religious scruple are in perfect keeping with the theme of Fabian piety. Finally, one of the measures which Fabius Verrucosus had taken in 217, after the defeat of Flaminius, was to vow a temple to Venus Erycina. In 215 he was made duumvir in order to dedicate this temple (his fellow duumvir was T. Otacilius who dedicated a temple to Mens, a temple which had also been vowed in 217).275 Fabius 270 Livy 7.19.2–3; Diod. 16.45.8, according to whom only 260 Tarquinienses were executed; cf. Münzer (1909) 1754–55. 271 According to the Fasti triumphales (Degrassi [1947] 69), Fabius celebrated a triumph over the Tiburtes, so it may be that he was not in charge; Livy records this triumph (7.19.2), but he does not say who celebrated it; cf. Beloch (1926) 362; Torelli (1975) 86. The events of this year are remarkably similar to the events of 356, in which year the same M. Fabius was said to have fought the Tarquinienses, but his colleague the Tiburtes (and one variant tradition gave Fabius the same colleague in both years, Livy 7.18.10; MRR I, 124). Fabius defeated the Tarquinienses in 356, but inexplicably did not punish them. As Münzer (1909) 1755 notes: ‘daß die Hinrichtung der Gefangen in Tarquinii und in Rom unter den Consulaten von Fabiern erfolgt ist, dürfte kein bloßer Zufall ist’. Note also Livy 24.20.6: Fabius Verrucosus was responsible for the scourging (in the Forum) and execution of 370 deserters. 272 Livy 7.17.2–5; Frontin. Strat. 2.4.18. 273 Livy 10.13.6, 10.13.12. 274 Livy 10.15.9, 10.22.2. 275 Livy 22.9.7–10, 22.10.10, 23.30.13–14, 23.31.9.

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Verrucosus was not the only member of his gens to have dedicated a temple to this goddess. Fabius Gurges was also said to have constructed a temple to Venus. Since the existence of the temple itself would presumably have ensured that some accurate record of Gurges’ act was preserved, it may be that this tradition is historical, in which case Verrucosus, in choosing to dedicate the temple to Venus, may have been deliberately modelling himself on his ancestor. On the other hand, however, there is some serious disagreement in the sources about Gurges’ temple. According to Livy, in 295 Gurges imposed fines on a number of women convicted of adultery; with the money which he raised from these fines, he built a temple to Venus near the Circus. It has been suggested that Gurges held an aedileship at the time.276 Servius, however, preserves a somewhat different account, which implies that Gurges (presumably during his consulship of 292 or his proconsulship of the following year) vowed a temple to Venus when he was fighting the Samnites.277 It is, naturally, much safer to conclude that the Fabii may have had some special association with Venus,278 that there was merely some confusion in the sources about Gurges’ temple,279 and that these two events provide, at best, evidence of similar pious behaviour. However, it is not completely impossible that the tradition of Gurges’ temple may owe something to Verrucosus’ dedication.280 Note that the capacity in which Gurges erected his temple is nowhere specified. If his name had been recorded in any dedicatory inscription or anywhere else for that matter, then the office which he held at the time ought to have been recorded as well. 9. THE FABII AND CONSPIRACIES AGAINST THE STATE One final episode may be worth noting. The issue in this instance is perhaps not so much the practice of casting members of the same gens in the same roles, as it is the practice of projecting later events into the past. Nonetheless, the episode is still relevant, as the former practice may have lent credibility to the results of the latter, if members of the same gens were involved. In 331 BC Q. Fabius Rullianus was curule aedile. A single story is associated with his term in office. According to Livy, and Livy did not find the episode in all the sources he consulted,281 many leading citizens were taken ill in this year; yet the cause was no disease, as had been assumed, but rather poison. This was revealed 276 Livy 10.31.9; MRR I, 178; Münzer (1909) 1798: ‘Offenbar war F[abius Gurges] im J. 459 = 295 curulischer Aedil’. For another instance of action taken against women by a Fabian curule aedile, see section 9 below. 277 Serv. auct. Aen. 1.720. 278 Cf. Münzer (1999) 77–78; Arcella (1995) 244–45; Oakley (2005a) 343. 279 Münzer (1909) 1798 and Richardson (1992) 409 conflate the two accounts: a temple begun in 295 and dedicated c. 292/291; Oakley (2005a) 343 also entertains this idea. The method of conflating rival traditions is, however, extremely dangerous; cf. Richardson (2008c). 280 So, it seems, Pais (1920) 214 n. 2. 281 Livy 8.18.1–13; 8.18.2: nec omnes auctores sunt.

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when a servant approached Rullianus and informed him that she would make known the origin of the crisis if he would grant her immunity from any repercussions that might arise. Rullianus instead passed the matter on to the consuls, and they in turn on to the Senate; the latter swore to ensure the woman’s safety, and she revealed that the ill were afflicted by the effects of poisons brewed by certain matrons. The woman then led the authorities to where the matrons were at work, and some twenty, having been caught, were summoned to appear in the Forum. There the matrons were charged to drink their own concoctions, for two of their number, Cornelia and Sergia, had asserted that they were purely medicinal. They all then drank, and they all died. The attendants of the deceased matrons then revealed the identity of everyone involved, and Livy claims that one hundred and seventy women were subsequently found guilty.282 Quite surprisingly, this tale has been widely accepted as historical.283 Fabius’ role may not appear to be intrinsic; indeed Valerius Maximus does not name him in his account, nor do Augustine and Orosius in theirs.284 The primary characters of the tale are the anonymous informer, Cornelia and Sergia, and these last two names betray the origins and original context of the whole fiction: the conspiracy of L. Sergius Catilina and P. Cornelius Lentulus.285 That context, in turn, explains the involvement of Fabius Rullianus, for Catilina’s own plans in 63 were exposed when the Allobroges revealed all to Q. Fabius Sanga. Like Fabius Rullianus, Fabius Sanga lost no time in forwarding the details on to the consul.286 The episode may be an instance of the retrojection of events, but the details of the plot and the method employed by the conspirators in 331 are different from those of the plot of 63. What is considerably more consistent, however, is the behaviour of the named protagonists, Fabius, Sergia and Cornelia; but, of course, if gentiles tend to behave in similar ways, then naturally these three, it could be supposed, must have behaved as their descendants were known to have done in the first century BC.287 282 Livy 8.18.10; slight variation in Oros. 3.10.3, on which cf. Oakley (1998) 595. 283 See Bauman (1992) 13–14 and 221 n. 5 for references to earlier work; Oakley (1998) 594–95: ‘no particular reason to doubt’, 596: ‘generally above suspicion’. 284 Val. Max. 2.5.3; Aug. de civ. D. 3.17; Oros. 3.10.1–3. Oakley (1998) 594–95 suggests that Fabius Pictor may have told this story; Bauman’s argument (1974) 255–57 that Rullianus was the quaesitor at the quaestio extraordinaria is scarcely convincing; besides, the trial by ordeal was, according to Livy 8.18.8, initiated not by the authorities but by the informer. 285 Münzer (1923) 1721: ‘Ob in der Erzählung Sergius Catilina und sein vornehmster Genosse Cornelius Lentulus getroffen werden sollen?’ Oakley (1998) 595 labels Münzer’s idea ‘ingenious’, but readily discards it nonetheless. 286 Sall. Cat. 40.1–41.5; App. B Civ. 2.4; Münzer (1909) 1867, (1923) 1721: ‘Vgl. auch einen Q. Fabius als Angeber der Verschwörung in beiden Fällen’. 287 The terminus post quem for the invention of this episode must obviously be 63 BC, and that would require a late source for Livy’s story. Aelius Tubero is a likely candidate; see Wiseman (1994) 54–55 for another ‘Catilinarian’ conspiracy which may equally have been the work of Tubero; note also Richardson (2011). The late date probably explains why Livy did not find the story in all his sources (see n. 281 above).

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10. CONCLUSION The purpose of this chapter is to argue that the Roman tendency to assume that members of the same gens behave similarly has had a far greater, and in many instances more subtle (but very damaging nonetheless), impact on Rome’s historical traditions than is usually supposed. Indeed the effects of this tendency are arguably quite pervasive. It is easy to see how the patrician Claudii, to pick the most prominent and unambiguous example, have been presented in a fairly standardised manner, and it is consequently easy to appreciate just how unhistorical the various traditions concerning them must be. It is likely that nothing that is said about the early members of the gens Claudia is in the least bit historical, and it is only when the tradition starts to present members of the gens behaving in ways that do not accord so neatly with the standardised presentation that some degree of confidence can possibly be placed in the tradition’s historicity.288 It may be that one or two of the episodes in which the Claudii acted arrogantly and in a manner hostile to the plebs are historical, as they may be the instances that were treated as illustrative of the way in which the patrician Claudii behave, but there is no way of distinguishing which. It is, in contrast, not always quite so obvious that the traditions concerning other gentes have been homogenised to the same degree, and consequently the extent to which this practice has affected the entire tradition of Rome’s history, and the history of the early Republic in particular, is easily missed. As was argued at the outset, the Fabii provide a useful test-case. While it is generally recognised that the tradition of Fabius Rullianus’ career is indebted to the career of Fabius Verrucosus,289 the extent of this debt, and the extent to which the traditions of other members of the gens have been affected in this same way, have received relatively little attention. yet it is quite clear that numerous episodes in the traditions of the Fabii have been influenced to some degree, and quite possibly to a significant degree, by the behaviour and fame of Fabius Verrucosus, and alongside this, by the Roman belief that sons behave like their fathers, and that, in turn, members of the same family tend to behave similarly. It should be stressed too that the impact of just one individual’s behaviour on the traditions of the Fabii has been discussed here; it is perfectly conceivable that the behaviour of other members of the gens Fabia (prominent figures of other times, or just contemporaries of various historians) has had an impact on the way in which earlier Fabii were supposed to have behaved. It is, of course, ultimately impossible to measure the full extent of the harm that has been done to the historicity of the traditions of the Fabii (and other gentes) as a 288 Although, even then, caution is still necessary. Ap. Claudius Caecus, the censor of 312 BC, is frequently presented in the tradition as a typical patrician Claudius; he is, however, also presented in places as a demagogue (see Oakley [2005] 361–66). The demagogic elements have often been accepted as historical, but there is reason to suspect that they may have actually originated in the first century BC; see Richardson (forthcoming) esp. n. 39. 289 Even in works as conservative as the OCD, see Drummond (2003).

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result of these Roman beliefs about human behaviour. Certainly, for the tradition of early Rome, it is not strictly a question of how much damage has been done to the tradition’s historicity, for that would imply that there was a reliable record of events to be damaged. Rather, it is a question of the influence which these beliefs had upon the formation and shaping of the tradition. For later events, of which some record or memory, however vague, may have survived, it may be a matter of the expansion and embellishment of the few preserved details, but the distortion of them is no less likely. The battle of Sentinum may provide a useful illustration. The tradition of this battle has clearly been significantly altered, on the one hand to make allowances for the story of P. Decius Mus’ devotio, but also to allow for Fabius Rullianus to win the battle by delaying. These two elements in the tradition are cleverly contrasted by Livy in his account, but that very contrast, so clearly contrived as it is, and the stereotypical behaviour of the two consuls probably reveal just how little of Livy’s narrative can actually be trusted.290 It is almost certainly the case that all that can be said about the battle of Sentinum is that it took place and that it was a major engagement. The battle of Sentinum was fought in 295 BC. If the tradition of an event that occurred as late as that has been so dramatically affected by the presentation of the main protagonists, then it would clearly be dangerous to place much, or indeed any, confidence in the presentation of other, and especially earlier, events. This is the case even if allowances are made for the importance of the two heroes of Sentinum, Fabius Rullianus and Decius Mus, and for the magnitude of the event, both of which undoubtedly encouraged the embellishment of the tradition. The Romans believed that individual members of the same gens tended to behave similarly. The literary tradition was devised, shaped and embellished by successive generations of historians who (it can reasonably be assumed, to varying degrees) shared this belief. Consequently it is extremely difficult, if not even impossible, to have any confidence in the historicity of the presentation of the various figures from Rome’s early and indeed even later history. In some instances the literary tradition may conceivably preserve some sort of record (however accurate it may or may not be) of the way in which an individual had actually behaved. In others, the tradition may consist of an account that has been embellished, indeed even wholly fabricated, not necessarily dishonestly, but under the false premise that it is plausible to suppose that members of the same gens think and do similar things. The problem is, there is no way to distinguish between the two. 290 Note that Oakley (2005a) 276 argues that Livy may not have made ‘any far-reaching changes to the account of the battle which he inherited from the late annalists’. From an historical, as well as tactical point of view, the contrast between Decius’ tactics and Fabius’ is extremely problematic, as is the supposed lack of communication between the two consuls. Cf. Schönberger (1960) for a determined attempt to find a rational explanation for these problems; the attempt is unsuccessful because Schönberger has far too much confidence in the tradition, and consequently misses the artificial nature of the presentation of both consuls.

III. THE FABII AND THE GAULS 1. INTRODUCTION It was universally accepted by the Romans as a literary (or psychological) technique that people act in character and that, therefore, you could assert things of people for which there was no actual evidence but which would have been characteristic of them to have done. Sp. Cassius was said to have been a demagogue: very little is known of him, but, because he was a demagogue, he will have acted as historical demagogues, such as the Gracchi, did. So a historian was entitled to transfer the measures and policies of the Gracchi and attribute them to Sp. Cassius in order to give his life more verisimilitude. A few Fabii attempted to withstand the whole might of Veii, as the Spartans had done against the Persians at Thermopylae. So it was legitimate to take over many of the details of Thermopylae and retell them in the context of Cremera. R. M. Ogilvie1

Just as gentes and gentiles had their own distinctive traits and characteristics, so too did – naturally, and indeed by definition – stock characters. And, just as gentiles behaved according to expectations, so too did the stock character. Thus Sp. Cassius, Ogilvie’s first example in the passage quoted above, inevitably must have behaved as later demagogues were known to have done, by virtue of the fact that he too was a demagogue.2 Ogilvie’s second example is something slightly different however. Here it is not a character-type, but rather just similar behaviour which justifies the modelling:3 the Fabii attempted to withstand the might of Veii, just as the Spartans had attempted to withstand the might of the Persian empire; therefore the attempt of the Fabii could quite legitimately be styled upon the attempt of the Spartans. Similar types of people tend to behave similarly;4 similar types of events can pan out similarly. The focus of this third and final chapter is the tradition of the sack of Rome by the Gauls in 390 BC,5 as well as a few important events which took place subsequently. As in the previous two chapters, the theme will be the employment of 1 2 3 4

5

Ogilvie (1976) 20. Cf. Kraus (1994) 146; Seager (1972) 332–33; also Gabba (2000) 129–39. Obviously stock characters also behave in similar ways, but they do so by virtue of being stock characters; Ogilvie’s second example does not involve stock characters. See Quint. Inst. 5.10.24–29: it is possible to base an argument on a person’s birth, on their race, their homeland, their gender, age, education, appearance and occupation; this approach is obviously based upon the belief that standard patterns of behaviour can be associated with all these things. Note too the arguments of Bettini (1991) 5–112 on the behaviour (ideal and actual) of fathers as well as maternal and paternal uncles and aunts; cf. Farney (2007) passim for various ethnic models and racial stereotypes, and also the material collected in Bernard (2000). On the precise chronology of events, which matters little in the immediate context, see Walbank (1957) 46–47, 185–86; on the differences in dates, Cornell (1995) 400.

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models as a means of devising plausible narrative. In this instance, however, the primary model used was not the career of an illustrious ancestor, or even the stereotypical behaviour of a stock character, but rather the celebrated exploits of a people, and in particular a famous event in the history of an illustrious city. It will be helpful to begin with an account of the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome. A summary of Livy’s narrative should suffice, although some elements which are common to other accounts and a few variant traditions can be noted along the way. Further variation in the tradition and other alternative versions of events will be discussed in more detail in the sections which follow. 2. THE SACK OF ROME In 391 BC, when L. Lucretius, Ser. Sulpicius, M. Aemilius, L. Furius Medullinus, Agrippa Furius and C. Aemilius were the consular tribunes, ambassadors arrived at Rome from the Etruscan city of Clusium.6 They had come, Livy says, to seek aid in defending their city against a group of Gauls that had arrived in Clusium’s territory. These Gauls, or so the story ran, had been lured into the region by the fruits of Italy, and by the wine in particular. Livy then proceeds to relate, albeit very briefly, the tale of Arruns and Lucumo, the tale which explained how and why the Gauls had been so lured. The same story is told also, but in more detail, by Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Plutarch.7 Arruns of Clusium had been the guardian of a certain Lucumo, whom Livy describes as ‘a powerful youth’, Plutarch, the heir to great wealth, and Dionysius, the son of an Etruscan leader.8 This Lucumo had seduced Arruns’ wife; angered by this, Arruns had exported wine and other goods to Gaul in order to entice the Gauls into Italy. It was Arruns who led the Gauls through the Alps, and it was Arruns who suggested that they attack Clusium. Having related this story, however, Livy asserts that the Gauls who assaulted Clusium were not in fact the first to cross the Alps. Gauls had come into Italy two hundred years prior to the attack on Clusium, Livy says, and had fought the Etruscans on earlier occasions

6 7

8

Livy 5.32.1; MRR I, 93. Livy 5.33.3–4; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 13.10–11; Plut. Cam. 15.3–4; it is less certain that either Cato (fr. 36P = fr. II.5 Chassignet = Gell. NA 17.13.4) or Polybius (2.17.3) was aware of it; see variously Mommsen (1879) 301–2, arguing that the story appeared only in the works of late annalists; Wolski (1956) 36; Walbank (1957) 182; Heurgon (1964) 252; Alföldi (1965) 158, arguing for Fabius Pictor as the ultimate source; Ogilvie (1965) 699–700, (1976) 161; Harris (1971) 19; Salamon (1987); Sordi (1995) 49–54 who argues that Dionysius’ version comes from Timaeus; Cornell (1995) 315; Forsythe (2000) 5; Beck and Walter (2001) 177; Williams (2001) 103–5. A different story appears in Plin. HN 12.5, on which see Williams (2001) 108. Although, in Dionysius (Ant. Rom. 13.10), it was the leader who was called Lucumo; the son, who was raised by Arruns, is unnamed. For discussion of the variation in the several versions of the story, see Sordi (1995) 51–53; Williams (2001) 102–6.

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too.9 Whatever the value of all this may be, nothing further is heard of either Arruns or Lucumo in any extant account of these events. At this point in his narrative, Livy embarks upon a rather long digression. First of all, he deals with the rule of the Etruscans in northern Italy, and then he goes on to discuss in some depth the migrations of the Gauls and their arrival in the Italian peninsula.10 The details of Livy’s discussion do not require extensive treatment here. Only two things need to be noted in the present context. Firstly, Diodorus and Plutarch both include in their accounts of the sack of Rome some discussion of these very same topics, namely Etruscan sway and the arrival of the Gauls in Italy.11 Neither provides anything close to the amount of detail that Livy does (for the bulk of Livy’s digression on the Gallic migrations is clearly part of a different tradition which comes from a different source or sources, and which is based upon a different chronology), but the basic structure of their accounts is nonetheless essentially the same. All three include some material on these same two topics, the arrival of the Gauls in northern Italy and Etruscan rule in this same region, at the beginning of their narratives.12 Secondly, Livy claims that the Etruscans had established two sets of cities, with twelve cities in each set. One set of twelve had been established on one side of the Apennines, and the second on the other.13 ‘Twelve cities’ are also mentioned by Diodorus at this very same point in his account.14 Plutarch too appears to mention these cities. He claims that they were eighteen in number,15 although, since there is a fairly substantial body of literary evidence for the twelve cities of Etruria, it is reasonable to suppose that Plutarch’s ‘eighteen’ is simply a mistake, and that Plutarch is here also referring to the same twelve cities.16 All three therefore include not only the very same digression, but all three also mention, during the course of it, the famed twelve cities of Etruria (or an equal number of colonies thereof).

9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Livy 5.33.5–6. As Williams (2001) 103 points out, Livy includes the tale of Arruns and Lucumo as it belonged to the ‘narrative sequence related to the sack of Rome’ (which is important; see below), even though it did not fit with information he got from elsewhere. Etruscans: Livy 5.33.7–11; Gallic migrations: Livy 5.34–35.3; on which, cf. Ogilvie (1965) 700–15 for discussion of sources and content; more recently, Williams (2001) 117–27, also with some discussion of earlier work. Diod. 14.113.1–3; Plut. Cam. 15–16. Cf. Williams (2001) 101: ‘The story of the Gallic invasion of Italy is generally told in our sources as a prelude to the sack of Rome by the Gauls, as an explanation of how Gauls came to be where they should not have been’. Livy 5.33.9: et in utrumque mare vergentes incoluere urbibus duodenis terras, prius cis Appenninum ad inferum mare, postea trans Appenninum totidem. Diod. 14.113.2: tou/touj d’ e1nioi/ fasin a0po\ tw=n e0n Turrhni/a| dw/deka po/lewn a0poikisqh=nai. Plut. Cam. 16.2: po/leij ei]xen o0ktwkai/deka. Pace Ogilvie (1965) 705 who claims: ‘Twelve did not remain a constant number… Plutarch, Camillus 16 speaks of the eighteen cities of Etruria Circumpadana’. The evidence for the ‘twelve cities’ and the idea of a ‘league of Etruscan states’ are discussed in section 5 below; see esp. n. 141.

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His long digression over, Livy returns to the troubles at Clusium. Faced with this new war against a numerous and unfamiliar foe, the Clusini sent ambassadors to Rome to ask for help, although, Livy adds, they had no alliance or friendship with the Romans. Their appeal was not entirely successful however; the Romans did not send the requested help, but only ambassadors to negotiate with the Gauls lest they attack, Livy says, and in doing so contradicts his earlier assertion, friends and allies of the Roman people, whom the Romans were bound to protect. The ambassadors sent were the three sons of M. Fabius Ambustus (namely Quintus, Kaeso and Numerius Fabius).17 According to Diodorus, the Romans sent ambassadors not to negotiate with the Gauls, but to spy on their army.18 The negotiations were unsuccessful. In reply to the stipulations of the Roman ambassadors, the Gauls offered their terms for peace: a piece of Clusium’s territory, for the Clusini possessed more than they could themselves cultivate. When asked what right they had to demand such, the Gauls retorted that force justified their claim. At this, tempers flared, and a battle ensued, during the course of which Q. Fabius, one of the Roman ambassadors, slew a Gallic chieftain (for the three ambassadors had joined in the battle on the side of the Clusini). As he stopped to strip the armour from his defeated foe, Q. Fabius was recognised by the Gauls, who promptly broke off the engagement and resolved to send ambassadors of their own to Rome, to demand that the three Fabii be handed over to them. But while the Senate, Livy says, disapproved of the conduct of the ambassadors, it did not agree to meet the Gauls’ demand; instead, it referred the matter to the people, and the people chose to elect the three Fabii as consular tribunes for the coming year. On learning of this, the Gauls swiftly set out for Rome.19 In spite of the emergency, the Romans did not appoint a dictator. The defence of their city was merely entrusted to the new consular tribunes, and specifically to the three Fabii, the former ambassadors. The three brothers conducted a levy, but not, Livy says, with the care that the occasion demanded. Then, although ill-prepared and without any consultation of the auspices, they led out their hastily assembled army, engaged the Gauls near the Allia, a tributary of the Tiber, and were decisively beaten.20 There is some important variation in the tradition concerning the identity of the consular tribunes who led Rome’s forces in the battle of Allia. It is best discussed here. In his account, Livy is explicit: the three Fabii, the same men who had gone to Clusium as ambassadors, were in command.21 Plutarch says simply that multiple 17

18 19 20 21

Livy 5.35.4–6; 5.35.4: quamquam adversus Romanos nullum eis ius societatis amicitiaeve erat, 5.35.5: legati… missi, qui senatus populique Romani nomine agerent cum Gallis ne a quibus nullam iniuriam accepissent socios populi Romani atque amicos oppugnarent; note also, on this matter, Flor. 1.13.6; App. Celt. 2; Dio fr. 25.1. The Fabii are RE 48, 42 and 45 respectively. Diod. 14.113.4: o9 dh=moj o9 tw=n 9Rwmai/wn pre/sbeij a0pe/steilen ei0j Turrhni/an tou\j kataskeyome/nouj th\n stratia\n tw=n Keltw=n. Livy 5.35.6–36.11, 5.37.4–5. The colleagues of the Fabii were Q. Sulpicius Longus, Q. Servilius and P. Cornelius Maluginensis (Livy 5.36.11; MRR I, 94–95). Livy 5.37.1–3, 5.37.6–38.10. Livy 5.37.3.

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consular tribunes were in charge, although he does not name them.22 Diodorus too has the consular tribunes in charge and he does not name them either.23 Events in Diodorus’ account are confined to a single year. Diodorus’ list of the consular tribunes for this year is typically confused, but the name Fabius is included, as is the praenomen Kaeso, the use of which was, as Th. Mommsen observed long ago, confined to the Fabii, the Quinctii, the Acilii and the Duilii.24 No Quinctius, Acilius or Duilius was involved in the tradition of these events, but one of the Fabian ambassadors was called Kaeso. When the Gauls, Diodorus says, demanded that the Romans surrender the ambassador who had got involved in the battle outside Clusium, the senators first attempted to bribe them, but subsequently, when the bribe was not accepted, decided to comply with their demands. But, Diodorus goes on to say, the father of the ambassador then appealed to the people, to try to prevent his son from being handed over, and Diodorus adds that the father of the ambassador was one of the consular tribunes.25 Thus Diodorus, who has the consular tribunes in command of the Roman army in the battle of Allia, presumably had at least one Fabius involved in the defeat. Finally, for what it is worth, Florus and Orosius both have ‘Fabius the consul’ in charge of Rome’s forces.26 In other sources, however, a different version can perhaps be found, according to which, it has been believed, Q. Sulpicius, another of the consular tribunes, is supposed to have led Rome’s forces at Allia. This version, which appears to have been told by the early historians Cassius Hemina and Cn. Gellius (or so Macrobius claims) as well as the antiquarian Verrius Flaccus, and which is recorded too by Livy in an aside, has been accepted in the past by some as historical.27 There are some difficulties however. The tradition concerning Sulpicius is wholly antiquarian in nature and appears to be concerned with just one thing: explaining why the day which came after the Ides was a dies ater, an unlucky day. The context for the story is a debate in the Senate which was said to have taken place in the following year and after the city had been recovered from the Gauls. The topic of the debate was unlucky days. In Livy’s account, it was noted in the Senate that the eighteenth of July was marked by two disasters. It was on this day that the three hundred Fabii had been destroyed at Cremera, and it was on the same day that Rome’s forces had been defeated at Allia. On account of the latter disaster, all business, public and private, was forbidden

22 23 24 25 26 27

Plut. Cam. 18.4–5, Quaest. Rom. 25. Diod. 14.114.1. Diod. 14.110.1: e0n de\ th|= 9Rw/mh| th\n u9patikh\n a0rxh\n ei]xon xili/arxoi e3c, Ko/intoj Kai/swn Soulpi/kioj, Ai]noj Kai/swn Fa/bioj, Ko/intoj Seroui/lioj, Po/plioj Kornh/lioj. Mommsen (1864) 17 and n. 17. Diod. 14.113.5–6. Diodorus’ story contains elements pertinent to the gens Fabia; see the discussion in Chapter II, section 6. Flor. 1.13.7; Oros. 2.19.6. Cassius Hemina fr. 20P = fr. 24 Santini = Macrob. Sat. 1.16.21–24; Cn. Gellius fr. 25P = Macrob. Sat. 1.16.21–24; Verr. Flacc. ap. Gell. NA 5.17.1–2; Livy 6.1.12; Ogilvie (1965) 718, (1976) 165 is certain that this version is historical; so too, it seems, Broughton MRR I, 94–95; Heurgon (1973) 183.

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henceforth to take place on this day.28 Livy then notes a further tradition, but he does not vouch for it himself.29 Some think, he says, that Q. Sulpicius had not received favourable omens on the day after the Ides of July and, without having obtained the peace of the gods, had later led the Roman army against the enemy; for this reason the day after the Ides, and other such days, were made dies religiosi. This second, aetiological and antiquarian tradition scarcely seems to warrant the trust that has been placed in it. Although it appears to have been told by Cassius Hemina and Cn. Gellius, that alone does not seem to provide sufficient reason to dismiss the rest of the tradition, according to which the consular tribunes, including the three Fabii, or simply the three Fabii on their own, were in command at Allia. The extant evidence for Sulpicius does not involve him in any narrative account of the battle, and the idea that he alone was in command also contradicts the ancient view that the number of the commanders was one of the causes of Rome’s defeat.30 Moreover, in Verrius Flaccus’ account and in Macrobius’, Sulpicius is said simply to have performed a sacrifice before the battle; Sulpicius is described as being ‘about to fight the Gauls’, but it is not actually stated that he was in command, or in sole command, during the engagement.31 The story, therefore, is actually not at all incompatible with the claim that the consular tribunes (in the plural) were in command. It has been convincingly argued that certain episodes in the tradition of the Gallic sack, namely the exploits of M. Furius Camillus, Fabius Dorsuo and M. Manlius Capitolinus (for which, see below), were first devised in 345 BC, the year in which the temple of Juno Moneta was vowed. In that year M. Fabius Dorsuo was consul; L. Furius Camillus was made dictator, and his magister equitum was Cn. Manlius Capitolinus.32 M. Fabius’ consular colleague was Ser. Sulpicius Camerinus.33 Could Sulpicius Camerinus have also had a hand in the development of the tradition? Association with the defeat at Allia would not be at all prestigious, especially given the disastrous consequences, so it is highly unlikely that Camerinus would have ever devised a story that put Q. Sulpicius in command of that battle. But Q. 28

29 30 31

32

33

Livy 6.1.11; for the idea that the disasters at Cremera and Allia both took place on the same day, see Plut. Cam. 19.1; Tac. Hist. 2.91.1; CIL I2 pp. 248, 322; Degrassi (1963) 208; note also, on Cremera, Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.23.2; App. Ital. fr. 6; Dio 5.21.3; De vir. ill. 14.4; cf. also Val. Max. 9.11.ext.4; Macrob. Sat. 1.16.23. Livy 6.1.12: quidam… putant. Plut. Cam. 18.5; cf. Livy 5.37.1. Gell. NA 5.17.2: ‘urbe’, inquit, ‘a Gallis Senonibus recuperata, L. Atilius in senatu verba fecit, Q. Sulpicium tribunum militum, ad Alliam adversus Gallos pugnaturum, rem divinam dimicandi gratia postridie Idus fecisse; tum exercitum populi Romani occidione occisum et post diem tertium eius diei urbem praeter Capitolium captam esse’; Macrob. Sat. 1.16.23: Q. Sulpicium tribunum militum ad Alliam adversum Gallos pugnaturum. Both passages say only that Sulpicius performed the sacrifice before he fought the Gauls; it does not automatically follow from this that he fought them alone. Wiseman (2004) 129–30, (2009) 64; Forsythe (2005) 256; tentatively, Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 74. This argument is much preferable to that found in Richardson (2004), which is best retracted, although the suggestions made there concerning the changes in the rites supposedly performed by Fabius Dorsuo and the location of them may still work. MRR I, 131; Forsythe (2005) 256.

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Sulpicius appears elsewhere in the tradition and plays an important role in events. It was he who was in charge of the defenders who heroically held out on the Capitol (for whom, see below).34 That element certainly could be Camerinus’ work. Since the three Fabii essentially disappear from the tradition after the battle of Allia,35 and since the two other consular tribunes of the year (Q. Servilius and P. Cornelius) are hardly involved in events beyond being elected to office, it is very easy to see how Q. Sulpicius could have been given, or assumed to have had, a more prominent role elsewhere. And since the story that has been taken as proof that Sulpicius led Rome’s forces at Allia is found only in an antiquarian discussion of the calendar, and is not integrated at least into any extant narrative account of events,36 it seems perfectly reasonable to conclude that this story may simply be a part of some later tradition, or some alternative tradition that never became established. According to the established tradition, it was under the command of the consular tribunes, and of the three Fabii in particular, that the Romans were defeated in the battle of Allia. Of those who were not killed in the engagement, or rather as they fled from it, many, Livy says, escaped to the nearby Etruscan city of Veii (which had been captured by the Romans some six years previously), but a few to Rome. Wary on account of the ease of their victory, the Gauls soon marched towards the city and encamped nearby.37 When news of the defeat reached Rome, the Romans were struck with grief. Their grief was soon supplanted by panic. Arrangements were quickly made in preparation for the arrival of the Gauls. Sacred objects were buried, or were carried away from the city and to safety (at Caere) by the Vestal virgins and the flamen Quirinalis; men of military age, and the strongest of the senators, made ready to hold and defend the Capitol hill, where supplies and arms were stored up, and where their wives and children also sought refuge; a great many people, chiefly the plebs, fled from the city into the surrounding land, although some set out for towns close by; while the old men, putting on the trappings of whatever offices and honours they had won, waited in the atria of their homes.38 According to some, the pontifex maximus, whom Livy calls M. Folius, but Plutarch, Fabius, performed the rites of the devotio with the old men.39 Then, on the next morning, the Gauls entered the city, through the Colline gate which had supposedly been left open.40 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Livy 5.47.9, 5.48.8; Plut. Cam. 28.4. Only Q. Fabius is ever mentioned again; Livy 6.1.6–7 says that he was indicted by a tribune of the plebs, but died before the trial; many believed his death was voluntary. As Hubaux (1958) 335 comments, it comes as a surprise to discover that Q. Fabius is even still alive. Diodorus, in his account of the battle of Allia (14.114) says nothing about sacrifices or the taking of the auspices; Livy 5.38.1 and Plut. Cam. 18.4, however, state explicitly that the gods had been neglected by the consular tribunes, and that presumably precludes the story of Sulpicius’ sacrifice. Livy 5.38.5, 5.38.9–10, 5.39.1–4. Livy 5.39.4–8 (grief and panic), 5.39.9–41.2 (the various preparations), 5.40.5–6 (many flee from the city). Livy 5.41.3; Plut. Cam. 21.3; MRR I, 96; Sordi (1984) 83; Richardson (2004) 288; Rüpke (2008) 673, 695. Livy 5.41.4.

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The old men who sat in their atria were murdered, their houses ransacked and then burnt. As those on the Capitol watched on, the Gauls dispersed through the city, the fires which they started spread, and buildings began to collapse. Then, some days later, when the city lay in ruins, the Gauls turned their attention to the Romans who had resolved to defend the Capitol. They attempted first to storm the place. When their attempt was unsuccessful, they prepared a blockade. So that they could continue with this enterprise without interruption, the Gauls divided their army into two. One half would persevere with the investment, while the other would forage for supplies. Unfortunately for the Gauls, however, their foragers were very soon destroyed. For they set out, by chance, for Ardea, the city where M. Furius Camillus, who had recently been exiled from Rome, was then residing. Camillus rallied the men of Ardea, led them out at night and slaughtered the Gauls while they slept in their camp. Thus, although the siege of the Capitol continued unabated at Rome, the supplies of those conducting it soon began to diminish.41 The siege drew on, and as it did so, important rites (rites performed by the Fabii on the Quirinal hill, according to Livy) were soon due. Although the Capitol was still under siege, C. Fabius Dorsuo set out for the Quirinal with the appropriate sacra, marched unperturbed through the Gallic lines, conducted the necessary rites, and then returned to the Capitol, leaving the Gauls stunned by his audacity.42 At Veii, meanwhile, the Romans who had fled there after the defeat at Allia, finding their numbers increasing as the days went by with the arrival of stragglers and various men from Latium, were eager to attempt to rescue their city. All that they lacked was someone to lead them. M. Furius Camillus was the obvious candidate, but he was in exile at Ardea. The Senate needed to be consulted first. It fell to Pontius Cominius to embark upon the necessary and risky journey to Rome. He set out down the Tiber, afloat on a piece of cork, reached the city, scrambled up a very steep and consequently unguarded face of the Capitol, secured Camillus’ recall and appointment as dictator, and then returned to Veii.43 Cominius’ ascent however left a trail and revealed to the Gauls a route up onto the Capitol. One night a group of them was able therefore to climb up the same steep section of cliff, following the path revealed by Cominius, and reach the summit. And the Gauls would have taken the Capitol by surprise had not the noise of Juno’s sacred geese, startled by their arrival, roused M. Manlius Capitolinus from his sleep. Seizing his weapons, Capitolinus sent the first of the Gauls tumbling down the cliff, and then slew those who were climbing up behind. For saving the day, Manlius was rewarded. The most guilty of those who should have been on guard was thrown from the Capitol.44 The siege continued. Famine soon began to affect both sides, but the Gauls, Livy says, suffered also from disease and on account of the heat to which they were 41 42 43 44

Livy 5.41.5–45.3; the Romans at Veii made a similar sortie against Etruscan raiders: Livy 5.45.4–8. Livy 5.46.1–3; MRR I, 96; Rüpke (2008) 674; Wiseman (2004) 129–30, (2009) 64. Livy 5.46.4–11. Livy 5.47.1–11.

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not accustomed. Although Camillus, now recalled from exile and appointed to office, was preparing his army, those on the Capitol continued to starve, and when their hope gave out too, they decided to negotiate a settlement with the Gauls. Scales were fetched, and the Romans began to measure out the gold with which they intended to purchase the return of their city. But before the transaction could be completed, Camillus miraculously appeared with his army. He immediately denied the validity of the deal. Only he, as dictator, he said, had the necessary authority to make any truce. Drawing up his forces, he offered battle, and quickly and easily routed the Gauls. A second battle, Livy then adds, was subsequently fought on the via Gabina, eight miles out from the city. On this occasion the Gauls were comprehensively beaten, and Camillus returned to Rome and triumphed.45 Thereafter the Romans, persuaded against migrating to Veii, which stood intact, set about the laborious task of rebuilding their city.46 Although lengthy, this summary of Livy’s narrative provides a useful framework for the following discussion, makes clear the context of several important episodes and details, and shows the prominence of, and important roles played by, the several members of the gens Fabia (in particular, the three ambassadors who were sent to Clusium, who later served as consular tribunes, and who led Rome’s forces alone, or together with their colleagues, at Allia). 3. HISTORy AND TRADITION Livy’s account of the Gallic sack of Rome and the city’s subsequent recovery by Camillus is one of the most elaborate. Several of the episodes that can be found in it do not appear in other versions, and there are important variant traditions concerning the role of Camillus and the fate of the gold with which the Romans ransomed their city, or nearly did so in Livy’s version. Polybius’ account of these events, which is the earliest extant and which is often held to derive from Fabius Pictor, is strikingly, indeed almost wholly different from Livy’s. It is necessary therefore to look at a number of the episodes in the tradition individually, and then to reconsider the tradition as a whole, and what it may have looked like, before it evolved into the elaborate narrative found in Livy. First, there is the tale of Arruns and Lucumo. This episode, it has been argued by some, is in fact essentially historical. It supposedly reflects some genuine domestic affair or social struggle that took place in the city of Clusium. According to Servius, in his commentary on Virgil’s Aeneid, lucumo was the Etruscan word for king.47 The character Lucumo therefore, it is supposed, can be understood to be a king or tyrant figure. As for Arruns, he was said to have exported various goods into the territory of the Gauls, and so he could perhaps have been a merchant, or possibly some local aristocrat, since he was charged with Lucumo’s care, and was, ac45 46 47

Livy 5.48.1–49.7. Livy 5.49.8–55.5. Serv. Aen. 2.278, 8.65, 8.475 (= TLE 843).

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cording to Plutarch, a man of prominence.48 Arruns has been variously interpreted, either as a member of some ousted aristocracy, or as a member of some lower class, made wealthy through trade. The Gauls, brought into Italy by Arruns, can be turned into mercenaries easily enough, and Arruns’ efforts to regain his wife (or to punish Lucumo), into an attempted coup d’état. The intervention of Rome and the Fabii can be added into the equation, according to whatever reconstruction is favoured; or, alternatively, Rome’s involvement can be kept out of the picture entirely, and the association of the tale of Arruns and Lucumo with the sack of Rome dismissed as nonsense.49 All this does seem rather farfetched and fanciful. It has, moreover, since been demonstrated that Servius was simply mistaken when he claimed that lucumo means ‘king’. Lucumo was, as the story itself implies, nothing more than a name.50 This is not then a ‘garbled’ account of some supposedly historical event. ‘In truth’, says Ogilvie, ‘the story [of Arruns and Lucumo] is a romantic explanation, typical of the Hellenistic age, designed to account for the invasion of the Gauls’.51 Ogilvie must be right. This is precisely the sort of thing that can be found most notably in the works of writers like Herodotus.52 It should be treated accordingly. The whole episode involving Clusium and the Roman ambassadors is just as unhistorical.53 Certainly there is no difficulty with the simple idea that Gauls attacked this city,54 and possibly even at about the time that they captured Rome.55 The difficulty lies with the idea that the Clusini turned to the Romans for help, and with the whole elaborate tradition of events immediately subsequent to their appeal: the Roman embassy, the improbable involvement of the ambassadors in the ensuing battle, the equally improbable reluctance on the part of the Senate to hand over the ambassadors, and the even more improbable decision made by the Roman people to elect the ambassadors as consular tribunes. Although there is considerable variation

48 49 50 51

52 53 54 55

For Arruns as a merchant, note esp. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 13.10–11; Plut. Cam. 15.3 calls Arruns an a0nh\r e0pifanh/j. See the various interpretations of, e. g., Gagé (1975) 13–14; Sordi (1995) 49–54; Jannot (1988) 613–14; Cornell (1995) 315–16, 460 n. 61. Cristofani (1991); Cristofani’s argument has been accepted by, e. g., Wylin (2000) 300 n. 802, cf. also 209; Maggiani (2001) 228–29. Ogilvie (1965) 699 (the context makes it clear that Ogilvie is here referring specifically to the tale of Arruns and Lucumo), also (1976) 161: ‘the story itself is a common folk-tale which recurs in several Greek migration legends’ (note also Ogilvie [1965] 707 on the story of the Gallic migrations). Wolski (1956) 33, 36 is therefore right to deem the story of Arruns and Lucumo unhistorical. The tale of Candaules and Gyges (Hdt. 1.8–12) provides one obvious example of this type of story. On such stories, see section 6 below. So too Ogilvie (1965) 699–700, 716: ‘The whole story is baseless. The Clusines would hardly have turned to Rome for help’; Wolski (1956) 33, 36–39; Oakley (1997) 389. Cf. Polyb. 2.25.2. It may, however, be unlikely, cf. the various works cited in n. 53 above. Cornell (1995) 314 and 459 n. 55 defends the tradition; he refers his readers to his n. 61 (on page 460): his discussion of the tale of Arruns and Lucumo, on which see above.

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in the literary sources regarding the details of all these events,56 not one of the different versions is in itself noticeably more plausible than any other, and naturally it will not do simply to cobble together the slightly more plausible versions of the different episodes in the attempt to devise something passably credible. Much has been made in this context of the idea that the Fabii supposedly enjoyed some special connection with Etruria, but there is really no good evidence for this;57 besides, even if they did have some connection with the region, that is not sufficient a reason to try to salvage an implausible and patently unhistorical story. There is moreover an alternative explanation, one far more plausible and compelling, for the arrival of the Gauls at Rome. It appears that the Gauls who captured Rome may indeed have been mercenaries, but they were certainly not mercenaries in the employ (or previously so) of Arruns of Clusium. They appear to have been hired by Dionysius I, the tyrant of Syracuse. Diodorus says that the Gauls arrived in northern Italy at the time that Dionysius of Syracuse was laying siege to Rhegium; according to Polybius, Rome was sacked in the same year in which Dionysius defeated the Italian Greeks near the Elleporus River and laid siege to Rhegium.58 If the Gauls were marching to the south of Italy to assist Dionysius in his campaigns, that would provide a perfect explanation for their arrival at Rome, an arrival which cannot otherwise be explained by the story of the Fabian ambassadors (because that story is quite obviously unhistorical), or by the idea that they were a migrating people in search of land (for they would scarcely have gone so far south in one single advance).59 According to Justin, Dionysius did indeed enlist the aid of the Gauls in his campaigns in southern Italy. Justin says that the Gauls, who had burnt Rome months before, sent ambassadors to Dionysius to seek an alliance and friendship,60 but that story may be no more than an attempt to reconcile well established Roman tradition (in which the Gauls were not mercenaries, and which is silent about their activities in southern Italy) with Greek history.61 Why should the Gauls, after sacking Rome, 56 57

58 59 60 61

For the variation, and different versions, compare: Diod. 14.113.4–114.1; Livy 5.35.4–36.11; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 13.12.1–2; Plut. Cam. 17–18.2, Numa 12.6–7; Flor. 1.7.6–7; App. Celt. frs. 2–3; Dio fr. 25.1–2; Oros. 2.19.5–6; De vir. ill. 23.5–7; Zon. 7.23. Cf. Mazzarino (1966a) 246–47; Jannot (1988) 613–14; on the Fabii and Etruria, see, e. g., Münzer (1999) 56–57; Sordi (1960) 75–77; Heurgon (1964) 253; Gagé (1975) 8–9, 27–32; Ogilvie (1976) 115; Ruggiero (1984) passim; Richard (1990) 193; the connection is questioned by Harris (1971) 18 and n. 5, and 47 n. 5 who rightly emphasises the limited nature of the evidence. Polyb. 1.6.1–2; Diod. 14.113.1; on which, cf., variously, Beloch (1926) 140–41; Walbank (1957) 46–47; Sordi (1960) 25–32. So too Cornell (1995) 315: ‘A migrating tribe would not have advanced as far as Rome, at least not in the first instance’. Just. Epit. 20.5.4–6; 20.5.4: sed Dionysium gerentem bellum legati Gallorum, qui ante menses Romam incenderant, societatem amicitiamque petentes adeunt. The same trend can be found in modern scholarship which seeks to salvage Polybius’ version as well; e. g., Forsythe (2005) 252–53: after departing from Rome ‘[t]he Gallic host seems to have dispersed. Some returned home to defend their territory from invasion by the Veneti (Polyb. 2.18.3), while others continued to wander south and eventually found employment as

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have set out for the southernmost part of Italy, through hostile territory, merely on the chance of striking up an alliance with Dionysius? It makes no sense at all. It is far better to suppose that Dionysius’ camp was their original destination.62 Diodorus and Strabo record that the Gauls were subsequently defeated by the people of Caere. This happened as they were returning from Iapygia, says Diodorus. The idea that the Gauls went to, and later returned from, southern Italy only really makes sense if it is supposed that their destination was not Rome at all, despite the claims of the Roman tradition.63 On this reconstruction, the capture of Rome may represent nothing more than simple opportunism on the part of the Gauls. This may very well explain too why there is no archaeological evidence for the destruction of the city at this time.64 In the literary tradition Rome was badly burnt, and the siege of the Capitol was a protracted affair which dragged on for many months; but, in the literary tradition, the capture of Rome, and the punishment of the Romans, had become the Gauls’ objectives. Had the Gauls only temporarily occupied Rome as they were making their way to southern Italy, to serve in Dionysius’ army, they would have had no time (or reason) to destroy the city. Moreover, to delay their journey would have been to risk missing the campaign for which they had been employed, and for which they would be paid (but only if they got there in time to be of any use). If Rome was not destroyed (and the archaeological evidence suggests that it was not), it is necessary to ask why the Romans claimed that it was. An answer to this question will be offered in the next section, but it can be noted here that the story that the Gauls sacked the city evidently created some rather serious difficulties. If Rome was destroyed, then obviously it had to have been rebuilt. The problem was, the rambling nature of the city did not accord with the assumption that it would have been planned out by its founder, and a city which has been rebuilt in a precise period of time ought, especially, to be well organised. An explanation for this perceived problem was clearly needed, and it is quite apparent that one was invented. The city of Veii had recently been captured, and the Romans were said to have been eager to abandon what was left of their home and migrate there. Follow-

62

63

64

mercenaries in the army of Dionysius I of Syracuse (Justin 20.5.1–6)’; Alföldi (1965) 358. This sort of approach, which almost certainly involves the conflation of rival traditions, is best avoided; cf. Richardson (2008c). Cornell (1995) 316: ‘That the Syracusan tyrant should have employed Gauls as mercenaries is likely enough on general grounds; but the strongest argument for accepting this information as genuine is that it solves the puzzle of what the Gauls were doing in central Italy. Their route… becomes comprehensible if we assume that their ultimate destination was the Mezzogiorno’. For Dionysius’ use of Gallic mercenaries (albeit on other occasions), see also xen. Hell. 7.1.20, 7.1.31; Diod. 15.70.1. Diod. 14.117.7; Strabo 5.2.3; Sordi (1960) 32–36; Cornell (1995) 316. Sordi (1960) 62–72 argues that Dionysius was behind subsequent Gallic activities in the region; the idea is an attractive one, although, as Alföldi (1965) 359 n. 5 points out, Livy 7.25.3–4 has the Gauls fight against certain Greek fleets (presumably from Syracuse, although Livy does not say). On the archaeological evidence, see Coarelli (1978) 229–30, (1983) 129–30; Torelli (1978) 227; Cornell (1995) 318.

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ing the exhortations of the senators, and an omen from the gods, however, the people had had an abrupt change of heart and so had set about rebuilding their own city instead. But they had done so hastily, without plan or direction. It was for this reason that Rome was not carefully laid out, as (it appears to have been assumed) it should have been.65 Of course, the fact that Rome was not carefully laid out is actually proof that it had never been destroyed. Similarly, if the city had been burnt, then in all probability the various documents and records which it contained would have been lost in the fires, a supposition which undoubtedly would have been supported by the extreme paucity – especially by comparison with later times – of documents from Rome’s past. However, since a few records did survive (or were at least believed to have done so), some explanation for this had to be invented as well. One such explanation is found at the beginning of Livy’s sixth book. After the Gauls had departed, Livy claims, the Romans sought to recover as many of their laws and treaties as they could. Livy (or his source) singles out laws and treaties presumably for the very reason that those were precisely the things which were believed to have survived.66 The same situation also appears to have applied to the Romans’ religious paraphernalia. Several stories existed to explain the survival of the sacra of the cult of Vesta, as well as those of other cults: some material had been buried, some stored on the Capitol, and some carried away to Caere. Once it was claimed that the city had been destroyed by the Gauls, a number of other stories had to be invented, to account for the city’s disorganised state, and to explain why various documents and religious artefacts were still extant. All this quite obviously suggests that someone wished to claim that Rome had been destroyed, despite all the evidence to the contrary, and despite all the difficulties which that claim created. Also problematic, and best rejected as wholly unhistorical, is the role of M. Furius Camillus. Livy’s version, in which Camillus arrives in the nick of time to prevent the ransoming of the city, is extremely contrived, as is also the whole story of Camillus’ overly convenient exile (supposedly in the very year before the capture of Rome). There is no need to discuss this matter in any detail. It is sufficient to note that, in the earliest extant account of the Gallic sack, Camillus plays no role: Polybius says that the Gauls departed when their own territory came under attack; they made a treaty with the Romans and then set out for home.67 Polybius seems to be completely unaware of Camillus, whom he does not mention at all. Plutarch reports that, according to Aristotle, Rome was saved by a certain Lucius.68 And, while Livy has Camillus arrive before the gold could be handed over, other sources record the subsequent recovery of the gold from the Gauls. If the gold had to be recovered at a later date, then the ransom must have been paid, and that means that Camillus 65 66 67 68

Diod. 14.116.8–9; Livy 5.49.8–55.5; Plut. Cam. 31–32.3; Tac. Ann. 15.43; Ogilvie (1965) 750–51; Wallace-Hadrill (2008) 270. Livy 6.1.10; Forsythe (2005) 228 misses the point. Other material (apart from laws and treaties, presumably) which supposedly survived was apparently forged: Plut. Numa 1.1–2. Polyb. 2.18.2–3, although cf. 2.22.4–5. Plut. Cam. 22.3.

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cannot have arrived in time (if he even arrived at all: while it was Camillus who subsequently recovered the gold according to one version of events, another tradition claims that the gold was recovered by the army of Caere, and a third, that it was recovered by an ancestor of the Livii Drusi).69 In the words of T. J. Cornell, a scholar who is notoriously optimistic about the historical value of the literary tradition of early Rome, Camillus is ‘the most artificially contrived of all Rome’s heroes’. He can quite safely be jettisoned wholesale.70 There is one further variant tradition which needs to be considered here. According to most versions, the Capitol was not captured by the Gauls. It was there that the Romans held out against them, and the siege of the Capitol is the setting for the famous exploits of Fabius Dorsuo and Manlius Capitolinus.71 While he does not relate either of these two episodes, Polybius states quite explicitly that the Gauls took all of Rome except for the Capitol.72 However, there is good evidence which suggests that Ennius in his Annales may have had the Gauls take the Capitol as well. Certainly Varro (an informed source), Lucan, Silius Italicus and Tertullian all knew of a version of events in which the Capitol fell into the Gauls’ hands, and Cicero knew of a tradition according to which the Gauls ascended the Capitol through tunnels.73 The story that the Gauls captured the entire city, including the Capitol, represents a very important variant tradition, as will be seen in the next section, and if Ennius knew it, then that means that it must have been a part of one of the earliest versions of the Gallic sack of Rome for which there is evidence. It is usually supposed that Polybius’ source for his brief account of the Gallic sack was Fabius Pictor.74 If that is correct, then Polybius’ version may be only slightly earlier than Ennius’ (although it need not be: these references provide only termini ante quos). However, the two versions could quite easily have existed simultaneously along-

69 70

71 72 73

74

Diod. 14.117.5 (Camillus recovered the gold); Strabo 5.2.3 (the Caeretani recovered the gold); Suet. Tib. 3.2 (Drusus); further details in Luce (1971) 292–93, 296–97. Note also Livy 10.16.6, 22.59.7 and 34.5.9, in which passages Livy says that the ransom was paid. Cornell (1995) 316–17; Ogilvie (1965) 727–28, 732, 736; more recently, and with extensive bibliography, Gaertner (2008) 29–32. See also the discussion in the previous section concerning the magistrates of 345 and the dedication of the temple of Juno Moneta, along with the references in n. 32. As discussed in the previous section, the tradition of these exploits may have developed in the mid-fourth century BC; see n. 32 above; on the geese which raised the alarm, see also Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 72–75; Wolski (1956) 48–49. Polyb. 1.6.2, 2.18.2; although compare Polyb. 2.22.4–5. Enn. Ann. fr. 227 Skutsch; Varro ap. Non. 800L; Sil. Pun. 1.625, 4.151, 6.555–56; Luc. 5.27, fr. 12 Morel; Tert. Apol. 40.9; on which, see Skutsch (1968) 138–42, (1978) on Tac. Ann. 11.23, (1985) 405–8; McGann (1957); Clarke (1967); Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 63–75; Williams (2001) 144–45, 149. Cic. Caecin. 88, Phil. 3.20; also Lyd. mens. 4.114, cf. mag. 1.50; Serv. Aen. 8.652; Wiseman (1979a) 39–40. Sordi (1984) argues that it was Fabius Pictor who invented the tradition that the Capitol was not captured, but there are some difficulties with this idea (see below); on the development of the tradition regarding the inviolability of the Capitol, see also Williams (2001) 165–70.

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side one another; they evidently did so at a later date, even if one version had come to dominate the tradition.75 It is now possible to attempt, with all due caution, to reconstruct an outline of events. It would appear that a group of Gallic mercenaries briefly occupied Rome as it made its way south, to participate in the campaigns of Dionysius I, the tyrant of Syracuse, and the man who had hired this group of mercenaries. It is possible to suppose, but it is not necessary to do so, that these mercenaries may have captured Clusium at an earlier stage of their march. It is also possible that the Romans may have paid the Gauls a sum of money in order to get them to leave; but it is a far likelier guess that any gold which the Gauls carried away from Rome was simply booty.76 The Gauls had to leave as they had pressing commitments elsewhere, so there is no reason why the Romans should have needed to pay them to do so, and there is no reason why the Gauls should have needed to negotiate to get something which they could in all likelihood have simply taken by force. On their return from the south, perhaps after they had been discharged by Dionysius, or perhaps during the course of further operations, the Gauls appear to have been defeated in battle. Any gold which they had carried away from Rome may have been recovered at this stage. If that is approximately what happened, then that means that the rest, in fact the bulk, of the tradition consists of late, unhistorical elaboration. It is not, however, all just straightforward embellishment. The whole focus of events has been altered: the capture of Rome is not, in the Romano-centric literary tradition, some incidental event; the capture of the city is made into the Gauls’ ultimate objective. That transformation requires above all an explanation for why the Gauls should have been concerned to attack Rome in the first place. The episode at Clusium and the embassy of the Fabii provide the necessary explanation.77 The transformation also requires, in turn, an explanation for why the Gauls, after they had captured the city, subsequently departed. Polybius has them leave to defend their homeland;78 in another, seemingly later version, the Romans had to pay them to leave; and finally, in what is probably the most recent version of all, Camillus arrived just in time and drove them from the city. In the literary tradition (and probably only in the literary tradition: see the next section), as the Gauls approached Rome, many of the Romans abandoned their city, while some decided to attempt to hold out on the Capitol hill. In one early version (which may possibly even reflect actual events, but if it 75

76 77

78

See Williams (2001) 142: ‘It is apparent from the extant versions that the tradition of the sack was constantly remade, and at any one time circulated in a number of different versions’, 150. The discussion in the following sections is an attempt to isolate one seemingly early strand in the tradition. Cf. Cornell (1995) 318. Events of the third century may have provided some additional stimulus for the invention of this story as well as the model for it, cf. Wolski (1956) passim, esp. 33 on the ambassadors; Ogilvie (1965) 699–700, although other factors were involved (see below); also Williams (2001) 111–12. Polyb. 2.18.3; as Wolski (1956) 33–35 shows, the story is unhistorical.

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does, it does so only by coincidence), their attempt was unsuccessful and the Gauls took the Capitol along with the rest of the city. Even in the version in which the Gauls failed to take the Capitol, it was claimed that they had destroyed the rest of Rome, even though they clearly had not. 4. ATHENS AND ROME It has been well observed that the tradition of the sack of Rome by the Gauls contains a number of striking and significant parallels with the tradition of the sack of Athens by the Persians in 480 BC.79 Although many of these parallels are quite obvious, it is worth discussing them in some detail. They cannot be dismissed as mere coincidences, nor are they necessarily the inevitable result of the similar nature of the two events.80 They must rather have been devised intentionally. First of all, there is the evacuation of the city. Before the arrival of the Persian army, the Athenians abandoned Athens and fled to Salamis and elsewhere, while the Romans, as the Gauls drew near, abandoned Rome and fled to Caere in particular, but elsewhere too. Both episodes are described with ‘closely parallel scenes of distress’.81 The result is the same in both as well: the Persians entered an almost entirely deserted city, as did the Gauls.82 Both episodes are also unusual. Cities in antiquity were usually places to which people fled for refuge; they were not often places from which people fled, especially when an enemy was close at hand. This is implicit in one interpretation of the famous Delphic oracle which the Athenians received prior to the Persian invasion. In the oracle reference was made to a wall of wood which would remain intact. Some quite naturally took this to mean that the Acropolis, defended as it had been in the past with a stockade, would withstand the Persian onslaught. But others argued that the oracle was referring to ships, and that the wall of wood was thus a naval fleet, and Themistocles, that the oracle foretold that the Athenians would be victorious at sea.83 Themistocles’ interpretation was held to be the most persuasive, and so the Athenians readied the fleet and abandoned their city to the Persians; but some, nonetheless, chose to 79

80 81 82 83

Certain parallels were first observed long ago by Niebuhr (1875) 379; cf. also Soltau (1909) 80; Pais (1918) 126, 127 n. 1; more recently, Ogilvie (1965) 720, (1976) 166; Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 72; Sordi (1984); Williams (2001) 151–55 (although Williams is generally sceptical about the idea); Purcell (2003) 24–25. There are also some parallels with the tradition of the sack of Troy, for which see, e. g., Mommsen (1879) 321; Pais (1918) 126; Kraus (1994a) 274– 78. As Williams (2001) 153–54: the parallels ‘are better accounted for in terms of the similarity of the situation and of the Romans’ later reflections upon their own history rather than direct, literary borrowing or translation of motifs from the Greek to the Roman context’. Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 72; Hdt. 8.41; Plut. Them. 10; Livy 5.40; Plut. Cam. 20.2–3; Pais (1918) 127 n. 1. Hdt. 8.51.2; Diod. 14.115.5; Livy 5.41.5–6; Plut. Cam. 22.1; Sordi (1984) 87. Hdt. 7.141.3–143; cf. Williams (2001) 153. On cities as places of refuge, note, e. g., Erdkamp (1992) 135 and the references in n. 15.

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remain behind on the Acropolis, for they were convinced that the oracle was referring to a stockade. The Romans too abandoned their city. Some have argued that they did so because Rome had, at this date, no walls and so could not be defended.84 But those who argue that Rome was defenceless, or largely so, have allowed themselves to be unduly influenced by the massive Servian wall, which was constructed in the fourth century BC (and not by King Servius Tullius, as the Romans themselves believed). At the time of the Gallic invasion, the Servian wall did not exist, but that does not mean that Rome was without defences. No city in the ancient world could afford to be defenceless. Furthermore, to suppose that the Romans abandoned their city because they realised in advance that the defences which it did have would prove to be inadequate against the Gauls is to credit them with the kind of hindsight that they could only have possessed after Rome had been captured. The high points of the city, of which there were several, would have naturally constituted the key defensive positions, and smaller, individual areas (such as, most obviously, the hills on which the city had been built) could be more effectively, and more economically, fortified with walls.85 Places such as these would have offered protection and much better prospects than flight, and especially flight on a large scale. Individuals are obviously extremely vulnerable when on their own, and when on the run; there is safety in numbers, and an elevated position, even one that is not surrounded by a wall, offers more protection than an attempt, and an uncoordinated one at that, to flee from an enemy which is not far away and rapidly approaching under arms. The Servian wall, when it was finally built, enclosed a massive area of land. The construction of it must have been an immense undertaking. It is safe to assume that something dramatic must have motivated the Romans to embark upon such a project, and the capture of the city by the Gauls is the most likely catalyst. Hitherto the vantage points in the city must have served as places of safety and refuge, or places of final refuge if attempts to hold other defences, ditches and earthworks, were unsuccessful. The Romans could not have known beforehand that all these defences would be insufficient against the Gauls; they learnt that lesson the hard 84

85

So, e. g., Alföldi (1965) 322: ‘It has been rightly stressed that… the Romans would in no case have given up their homes if the city wall had been there already’, 356: ‘It was impossible to defend Rome since it had no walls: therefore the army had to be reorganized elsewhere’; Cornell (1995) 200: ‘the behaviour of the Romans before and during the Gallic raid can be explained only on the assumption that the city was virtually defenceless’, 317: ‘the Romans, realising that their cause was hopeless and that they would be unable to save the city, evacuated it in advance’; cf. also Ogilvie (1965) 719. From an early date, there was a wall at the foot of the Palatine (see, e. g., Cornell [1995] 72; Fraschetti [2005] 125–26 for discussion, references, and criticism of various fanciful interpretations); this wall may not have been defensive, but it is evidence for the construction of walls inside the city and around an individual hill. On the Capitol, note Alföldi (1965) 322 (but, of course, the idea of defenders on the Capitol in the literary tradition of the Gallic sack is simply a coincidence). Strabo 5.3.7 believed that there were, or had been, walls around the Capitol, the Quirinal and the Palatine, and Varro Ling. 5.48 knew of an ‘earth wall of the Carinae’; on the city’s early defences (a difficult subject), see Cornell (1995) 198–202; Smith (1996) 152–55, with references to earlier work.

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way, and came to realise that a single, solid wall which enclosed the entire city was a necessity.86 But they could scarcely have learnt that lesson had they fled, and it is difficult to imagine that they did, or at least, that they did so in the way and in the numbers that the sources imagine. Since the Romans themselves evidently believed that Rome was, at the time of the sack, surrounded by a wall, the idea that they had abandoned their city and fled is yet more awkward still. Hence, presumably, the absurd story that the gates of the city were left open. The literary tradition is in this respect somewhat internally inconsistent, but comparison can be usefully made here with the story, similarly maintained despite the difficulties it entailed, that Rome was destroyed by the Gauls (on this, see the previous section). The story that the city had been abandoned by the Romans was invented, and thenceforth retained, even though Rome’s walls came to be associated with Servius Tullius. This element of the tradition – the story of the evacuation of the city – undoubtedly owes its existence largely, if not entirely, to the parallel with the flight of the Athenians from Athens. A few Athenians did not abandon their city, but rather elected to remain behind on the Acropolis. So too at Rome were some Romans said to have stayed and to have sought refuge on the Capitol.87 Herodotus tells how the Persians attempted to take the Acropolis, but were beaten back. They eventually managed, he says, to take the place by climbing up a section of cliff near the sanctuary of Aglaurus, a section of cliff which was so steep that it had been left unguarded.88 Similarly, at Rome, the Gauls, likewise initially beaten back, managed to reach the top of the Capitol by climbing up a steep section of cliff (likewise left unguarded) near the shrine of Carmenta.89 In the developed tradition, M. Manlius Capitolinus beat them off, but that may not have happened in the version in which the Gauls managed to capture the entire city, the Capitol included.90

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Cf. Forsythe (2005) 259: ‘The decision to build such a structure [as the Servian wall] must have been largely due to the Gallic occupation of the city’; Cornell (1995) 320: the Servian wall ‘was probably built in recognition of the inadequacy of the earlier defences, which the Gauls had so fatally exposed’; Wiseman (2004) 89, (2008) 4. Hdt. 8.51.2; Livy 5.39.9–10, 5.40.1, 5.41.1, etc. Williams (2001) 151 notes that the defenders were not the same, but were ‘the very poor and the temple stewards in Herodotus, the remains of the Roman army and the younger senators with their families in Livy’, but that certainly does not destroy the parallel; the story of Pontius Cominius made it necessary to have a good number of senators on the Capitol; cf. also Wiseman (2004) 128–29. See Plut. Them. 10.5 for the claim that elderly people remained behind in Athens, and compare Livy 5.39.12–13, etc; Plut. Cam. 21.2 for the elderly men of Rome. Hdt. 8.52–53.1. Diod. 14.116.5: oi9 me\n fu/lakej parerra|qumhko/tej h]san th=j fulakh=j dia\ th\n o0xuro/thta tou= to/pou; Livy 5.46.9 (a steep cliff which the Gauls had neglected to guard), 5.47.2 (the Gauls ascended near the shrine of Carmenta); Plut. Cam. 25.2. Sordi (1984) 87. Since she argues that Fabius Pictor was responsible for the parallels with the sack of Athens, and that Pictor was also responsible for the story that the Capitol was not captured, Sordi (1984) must suppose that Pictor here differed from his model. But there are problems with the idea that it was Pictor who styled the sack of Rome on the sack of Athens (see below), and naturally the

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When the Persians appeared on the Acropolis, some of the Athenians there threw themselves to their deaths, while the rest sought refuge in the temple. The Persians murdered the suppliants; they then proceeded to plunder the temple; and finally, they set fire to the entire Acropolis.91 As for events at Rome, what happened in the variant tradition in which the Gauls captured the Capitol is quite unclear, but it may be significant that, in one of the versions of the story of Manlius Capitolinus, there is mention of a temple. In this version, Manlius drove the Gauls out of the temple (into which they had come through tunnels).92 In the better attested version of the story, the version in which Manlius defended the Capitol by casting the Gauls down the cliff they had climbed up, the guard who had most conspicuously failed to do his job was thrown to his death from the Capitol.93 Since the Gauls, in this version of events, did not succeed in taking the Capitol, they could not, obviously enough, be said to have burnt it, as the Persians had burnt the Acropolis. Instead, tradition claimed that the Gauls had burnt the rest of the city, along with the temples which it contained. As the archaeological record shows, the story that the Gauls burnt Rome is unhistorical. There is simply no evidence for destruction in the city at this date. Moreover, as was argued in the previous section, the claim that the city was destroyed actually entailed a number of serious difficulties, for the disorganised layout of the city and the survival of various early documents and sacred items contradicted the claim. As a result of these problems, the invention of further stories was necessary, to explain why the city was not carefully laid out, and to explain why certain early laws and treaties (some of which, the Twelve Tables for instance, were after all very famous and important documents) and cult objects were still extant. It may seem odd that the Romans should have wished to magnify their defeat by maintaining, despite the evidence to the contrary, that their city had been destroyed by the Gauls. Nonetheless, this tradition, unlikely as it is, exists, and it does so in all probability because the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome was heavily based upon the tradition of the Persian sack of Athens. There is no other reason why anyone would have wished to claim that Rome was destroyed.94

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idea that the Capitol was taken by the Gauls fits better with the Athenian model. Cf. Williams (2001) 152–53. Hdt. 8.53.2. Lyd. mens. 4.114, cf. mag. 1.50; Serv. Aen. 8.652; Wiseman (1979a) 39. Note as well that the story of the geese who raised the alarm is aetiological, and so may well be late, see Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 72–75; von Ungern-Sternberg (2000) 215–17. Livy 5.47.9–10; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 13.8.3–4 (it was the leader of the guards who was thrown from the Capitol). The details may be less important; the simple idea of people thrown from the Capitol may have been sufficient basis for some comparison to be made with the Athenians who threw themselves from the Acropolis (cf. the discussion in the Introduction, and what was deemed to be sufficient to make Coriolanus into a second Themistocles). The Romans also threw bread from the Capitol (Livy 5.48.4; Val. Max. 7.4.3; Flor. 1.7.15; Frontin. Strat. 3.15.1), a story which certainly has Greek parallels (Hdt. 1.21–22; Frontin. Strat. 3.15.2); on this story, see also Ogilvie (1965) 736; von Ungern-Sternberg (2000) 213–15. Williams (2001) 154: ‘it is possible that the invention of the complete destruction of Rome was influenced by the Herodotean story about Athens’; although Williams goes on to say (155):

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On the Acropolis, in the temple of Erechtheus, there was an olive tree which was said to have been planted by Athena. Both the tree and the temple were burnt down by the Persians. On the following day, the day after the Persians had sacked the Acropolis, xerxes, Herodotus says, sent some Athenians onto the Acropolis to perform sacrifices (the story may perhaps bring to mind the exploit of Fabius Dorsuo),95 and these Athenians noticed that a shoot, already a cubit in length, had miraculously sprouted from the charred stump of the olive tree in Erechtheus’ temple.96 The same story is also told by Dionysius, who explains that, by this, the gods wished to foretell that the city of Athens would likewise recover quickly. Dionysius then goes on to add that a very similar thing happened at Rome. On the Palatine there had stood a hut sacred to Mars; this hut, along with the houses that were built around it, had been burnt down by the Gauls. As the Romans set about rebuilding their city, they began to clear the area where these buildings had been located, and amongst the ashes they found a curved staff which had miraculously escaped the flames and was unharmed. This staff was the lituus with which Romulus had marked out his augural space so that he could take the auspices before he founded the city. In a slightly different version of the story, the lituus was found in the burnt remains of the curia of the Salii.97 Although the details are somewhat different, and although there is minor variation in the Roman version, these two stories are obviously comparable, and, since Dionysius discusses them together, it is clear that he was very well aware of this. It would seem that this was one parallel between the sack of Athens and the sack of Rome which was spotted even in antiquity (by someone, that is, who does not appear – in so far as it is possible to tell – to have been concerned to devise such parallels; most of the parallels, in any case, must have been invented long before Dionysius’ time).98 More importantly, the similar nature of these two stories seems to confirm that the tradition of the Gallic fire and the destruction of Rome was indeed styled upon, and was designed to recall, the burning of the Acropolis by the Persians.99

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‘But the invention of the general conflagration of the city could as easily be explained as a byproduct of the intensifying focus in the tradition on the Capitol as the sole surviving place of resistance, and as a means of emphasizing the abasement of the city in order to highlight the miraculous, phoenix-like revival’; this seems far less likely, and it is not necessary in any case to claim that the city was destroyed in order to present the Capitol as ‘the sole surviving place of resistance’; note as well the story of Romulus’ lituus (see below). The story of the Gallic fire was, of course, used to explain the lack of early documents; rather than being the cause of its invention, this use of the story is more likely to be aetiological. Note in particular the version of Cassius Hemina, in which the temple of Vesta (whose rites Fabius Dorsuo presumably carried out in Hemina’s version) is said to have been burnt, fr. 19P = fr. 23 Santini = App. Celt. fr. 6. Hdt. 8.54–55. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 14.2; Plut. Cam. 32.4–5; Q. Lutatius Catulus fr. 11P, on which see Torelli (1978) 228; Cic. Div. 1.30, 2.80; Val. Max. 1.8.11; von Ungern-Sternberg (2000) 218. This was not the only parallel between Greek and Roman history which Dionysius spotted; see Ant. Rom. 4.56.3. Pais (1918) 126; Williams (2001) 154–55 notes the similarity of the two stories, and yet argues against the idea that the Romans may have borrowed the story; but he does so for no good reason.

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A number of further parallels, some involving matters of quite precise detail, can be mentioned briefly. Most of them have received detailed treatment elsewhere. As M. Sordi has observed, according to Herodotus, the Persians spent one month crossing the Hellespont into Europe, before reaching Attica three months later, while, according to Diodorus, after they had defeated the Romans at the Allia, the Gauls spent one day cutting off the heads of those who had died in the battle, and then entered Rome on the third day after that.100 Polybius, Verrius Flaccus, Plutarch and Servius, it can be added, also have the Gauls take Rome three days after the battle of Allia.101 Sordi has noted as well that, just as Mardonius attempted to compel the Athenians to enter into negotiations by conspicuously not laying waste to the territory of Attica, so not all the Gauls, according to Livy, wished to destroy Rome, in the hope that the Romans on the Capitol might surrender.102 Ogilvie, in his commentary on Livy, claims that the ‘whole description of the entry of the Gauls into Rome is inspired partly by memories of the aftermath of Cannae and partly by literary models such as Herodotus’ account of the Persian attempt on Delphi and of the Persian sack of Athens’. Ogilvie also finds a ‘resemblance between the massacre of the senators and the liquidation of those Athenians who had taken refuge on the Acropolis’.103 Finally, as N. Horsfall has argued, there is an Athenian parallel for the story of the sacred geese who lived on the Capitol. On the Acropolis there was said to have lived a great snake which guarded the place. The Athenians, Herodotus says, used to leave food out for this snake, but when the food was left uneaten, they took this to mean that Athena had abandoned the Acropolis. It was for this reason that the Athenians were more eager to evacuate their city. The geese, in contrast, did not depart from the Capitol, as the snake had done from the Acropolis. They remained behind, and it was they who sounded the alarm when the Gauls ascended the Capitol. Although not guards, the geese came to play that role (for the dogs who guarded the Capitol were asleep), and because they did so, the Gauls’ attempt to take the Capitol by stealth failed. Thus there are obvious similarities between the story of the sacred snake and the story of the sacred geese, but there are also inevitably some differences because the Capitol was, in the story of the geese, saved.104 Since the 100 Sordi (1984) 87; Hdt. 8.51.1; Diod. 14.115.5–6. 101 Polyb. 2.18.2; Verr. Flacc. ap. Gell. NA 5.17.2; Plut. Cam. 22.1; Serv. Aen. 7.717. It is not impossible that the story of the Gauls’ arrival at Rome may have been developed further, at some stage after 146 BC; Wolski (1956) 42–43 (who notes Paus. 7.16.7) suggests that the tradition may owe something to the capture of Corinth by L. Mummius who also, like the Gauls, waited outside the city, although its gates were open, for fear of an ambush; on the three days, see further Wolski (1956) 41–44, 49. 102 Sordi (1984) 87; Hdt. 9.13.1–2; Livy 5.42.1–2; perhaps implicit in Plut. Cam. 22.6. 103 Ogilvie (1965) 720. 104 The snake: Hdt. 8.41.2–3; Plut. Them. 10.1; the geese: Livy 5.47.4; Plut. Cam. 27.2–3, etc; Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) 72; Horsfall argues: ‘At Rome… the geese were fed despite the famine; pietas was preserved; the sacred geese gave the alarm; the citadel was saved. Thus the traditional version – almost as though in calculated antithesis to the story of Athena’s serpent’. The difficulty is, it is not clear that the geese were being fed; Plut. Cam. 27.2–3 says that they were hungry.

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snake usually guarded the Acropolis, there is perhaps also something of a parallel to be found in the story of the dogs who usually guarded the Capitol; the snake had departed, while the dogs slept. But these details may be less important; the simple inclusion of a story involving sacred animals on the Capitol may perhaps have been enough to allow for some comparison to be made with the story of the sacred snake on the Acropolis. The tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome quite obviously developed over a lengthy period of time, and it is abundantly clear that the various details in it evolved and changed significantly during this period. Some consideration should be given therefore to the approximate date at which these numerous parallels with the tradition of the Persian sack of Athens may have been developed. When did the sack of Rome first come to be styled so closely upon the sack of Athens? Several episodes in the tradition may provide clues. According to Aristotle, Rome was saved by a certain Lucius. It has been suggested that Aristotle’s Lucius is to be equated with Lucius Albinius, the man who ferried the Vestal virgins to safety during the evacuation of Rome.105 If the equation is correct, although it very probably is not, the story that the Romans abandoned their city must presumably be early. Aristotle’s claim would have to constitute a terminus ante quem for its invention. As was argued in section 2 above, the stories of Manlius Capitolinus, Fabius Dorsuo and Furius Camillus may have been first developed in 345 BC. The precise nature of these early versions is, however, simply unknown. Capitolinus cannot have saved the Capitol, if the Gauls succeeded in taking it, unless, that is, they subsequently took it by some other means; and Camillus cannot have arrived in time to prevent the paying of the ransom, if the gold had to be recovered at a later date. Nonetheless the stories of Capitolinus and Dorsuo certainly presuppose that there were Romans on the Capitol, and in all likelihood, that the Gauls had laid siege to the place. As the tradition of the siege of the Capitol is heavily indebted to the tradition of the siege of the Acropolis, it is therefore possible that the sack of Rome may have been styled upon the sack of Athens as early as the fourth century BC. The story that the Romans abandoned their city also appears in Diodorus’ version, as does the story of the defenders on the Capitol, and also the claim that Rome was burnt and needed to be rebuilt. Camillus however plays only a minor role in Diodorus’ narrative and he does not save the city. Diodorus’ version therefore contains the most fundamental of the points of comparison with the story of the sack of Athens (as well as a few others), and yet his version is presumably also an early one, in part at least, because the role of Camillus in it has not yet been fully developed. Ennius evidently related the story of the defenders on the Capitol, and the attempts of the Gauls (attempts which appear to have been successful in his version) 105 Plut. Cam. 22.3; Sordi (1960) 49–52; Ogilvie (1965) 723; Mazzarino (1966a) 251; Palmer (1970) 163 (arguing also, but unconvincingly, that Albinius was the flamen Quirinalis); Cornell (1995) 316; Williams (2001) 149; against the idea, Luce (1971) 291 n. 43; von Ungern-Sternberg (2000) 212.

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to capture the place. Fabius Pictor, on the other hand (assuming, that is, that Polybius’ account does indeed derive from him), appears to have claimed that the Gauls did not succeed in taking the Capitol. This difference aside, it would seem that the same fundamental points of comparison with the story of the sack of Athens were probably to be found in Fabius Pictor’s work and certainly in Ennius’. Since the tale of Dorsuo was also known to Cassius Hemina, he too must have told the story of the defenders on the Capitol, as well as, in all likelihood, the story of the evacuation of the city.106 It would appear then that, by the time literary historiography had arrived at Rome, the tradition of the Gallic sack already owed much to the tradition of the Persian sack of Athens. From all this it seems reasonable to conclude that the tradition of the sack of Rome was quite early on, and perhaps even from its very inception, styled upon the tradition of the Persian occupation of Athens. Sordi has argued that Fabius Pictor was in fact responsible for this whole presentation, that it was he who devised all the various parallels with Athens.107 That cannot have been the case, however, if elements of the presentation existed already in the fourth century and were also to be found in Ennius’ version (which was, significantly, different from Polybius’, and so therefore presumably from Pictor’s too), but it is nonetheless highly likely that Pictor was indeed concerned to develop certain parts of this presentation.108 As will be discussed in the following section, the Fabii may have an important role to play in this aspect of the tradition. Since Greek historians evidently wrote about the Gallic sack, and since Aristotle presumably learnt about it from the work of a Greek, it is not entirely impossible that some early Greek historian may have been responsible for styling the sack of Rome on the sack of Athens. Borrowing events from Greek history would have been an easy way for a relatively uninformed historian (and most of the first Greeks who wrote about Rome were by and large uninformed) to produce a plausible narrative of the Gallic sack.109 Plutarch says that Heraclides Ponticus, when he mentioned the event, described Rome as a ‘Greek city’, and that may not be irrelevant; and it is worth noting that Diocles of Peparethus’ account of the story of Romulus and Remus (to pick just one, and one relatively well informed example) is self-evidently Greek in nature and content, and that Diocles’ account was apparently fol106 Cass. Hem. fr. 19P = fr. 23 Santini = App. Celt. fr. 6; Santini (1995) 171–73; Beck and Walter (2001) 264–65; Richardson (2004) 286–87. 107 Sordi (1984). Compare the discussion in Purcell (2003) 24–26; on the Gallic sack, he says (25): ‘the deliberate comparison of the Gallic episode and the sufferings of the Greeks from the invasion of xerxes is also, arguably, a more likely undertaking earlier rather than later’. 108 But extensive or elaborate handling is unlikely: Pictor’s work was in all probability short, and in any case dealt with this period only summarily (see section 7 below); this is often forgotten by those who suppose that Pictor wrote up every event in which a member of the gens Fabia was involved, or that Pictor was responsible for fabrication on a vast scale, as Alföldi (1965) 123–75 famously argued. 109 The sack of Rome was noted by Theopompus, according to Plin. HN 3.57, and by Heraclides Ponticus, according to Plut. Cam. 22.2. Plin. HN 3.57 says that Theophrastus was the first to write about Rome with any diligence.

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lowed by Fabius Pictor.110 But, as will be discussed below, even for a Roman, the story of the sack of Athens would have provided an obvious and easy model. The other obvious model, the sack of Troy, would have been much less suitable, on account of the long and famous siege which preceded it, and the ten year siege of Troy came instead to be employed by Rome’s historians as the model for the ten year siege of Veii.111 There is, furthermore, no reason to suppose that all the parallels were devised by one individual, or at one particular point in time. One of the parallels between the sack of Athens and the sack of Rome was noted by Dionysius (who was obviously not himself responsible for these parallels, as they pre-dated his work), and that shows that people in antiquity were not unaware of the similarities in the traditions of these two events. It is perfectly conceivable that later historians may have continued to develop this theme in their works, perhaps because, to begin with, it offered a plausible method by which the tradition could be written up and expanded upon. As J. Gaertner has recently observed, aspects of the tradition concerning Camillus, whose role in events was clearly elaborated and embellished at a later stage in the story’s development, appear to have been styled on the career of Aristides, for both returned from exile to join the battle, Camillus against the Gauls and Aristides against the Persians, and both had a reputation for justice.112 The tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome developed and changed continually; during that lengthy process of development, the tradition of the capture of Athens by the Persians evidently served as an influential model. Nor is it at all startling that the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome should have been styled so closely on the tradition of the Persian sack of Athens. It has long been demonstrated that numerous episodes in the literary tradition of the early history of Rome have been styled upon events in the Greek world.113 110 Plut. Cam. 22.2 and Rom. 3.1, 8.7; on Diocles’ account, see, e. g., Frier (1979) 261; Feeney (2007) 96–98. Cf. Gruen (1992) 10: ‘Greeks assumed that all cities of stature could be traced to Hellenic roots. Once the assumption is made, invention follows’; on Greek methods, see Bickerman’s famous paper (1952); cf. also Gabba (2000) esp. 25–49; Mastrocinque (1988) 32–35, Wiseman (2000) 298–99 and various other works in n. 113 below; the Greeks were especially interested in the origins of other peoples and cities (note Gabba [2000] 46–47), but it is clear that the sack of Rome also caught their attention (see n. 109 above). On the significance of the Gallic sack for Timaeus, see Feeney (2007) 103: it is the ‘first key fixed synchronistic point in Timaeus and Polybius that makes it possible for Roman history to be properly connected with Greek history’. 111 See Hubaux (1958) 199–201; Ogilvie (1965) 628–30, 660–61, 669–70. This was almost certainly the work of the Romans themselves; as Gabba (2000) 47 notes, Greek writers do not appear to have been interested in the war with Veii. 112 Gaertner (2008) 31 n. 23; for Aristides, Gaertner cites Hdt. 8.79; Cic. Tusc. 5.105, Off. 3.16, Sest. 141; Val. Max. 5.3.ext.3; Sen. Ben. 4.27.2; for Camillus’ justice, see Gaertner (2008) 36. Of course, these parallels are not necessarily late, as they could conceivably have first been adapted to some earlier version of Camillus’ story. 113 See, e. g., and variously, Pais (1906) 168–84, (1913) 164, 298, 534, 570–71, 601–2, etc; Soltau (1909) 73–91; Ogilvie (1965) 195, 205–6, 212–13, 219, 238–39, 315, 359–60; Sordi (1972) 62–65; Frier (1979) 264; Poucet (1985) 184–99, (2000) 245–83; Mastrocinque (1988) 32–35;

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5. THE FABII AND THE GAULS Since the capture of Athens by the Persians clearly provided an important model on which the tradition of the capture of Rome by the Gauls was so closely based, it may be worthwhile exploring the full extent to which the tradition of events at Rome has been styled on this model. The stories of the evacuation of the city, of the destruction of it, as well as of the defenders on the Capitol all find obvious parallels in Herodotus’ account of the sack of Athens, but what about events leading up to the capture of Rome? Does the tradition of the Gauls’ invasion and march on Rome owe anything at all to the tradition of xerxes’ famous invasion of Greece? A few of the parallels noted in the previous section suggest that it may, and for this reason it is worth exploring the possibility further. Since this possible debt is not always quite so obvious, however, some of the discussion in this section will inevitably be more conjectural than before, but the argument may at least have a cumulative force. Before the Persian infantry could reach Athens it had, most notably, to get past King Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans who blocked the pass at Thermopylae. The stand of the three hundred Spartans and their final destruction were famous and celebrated exploits. In terms of the sequence of events at Rome, any potential parallel with the battle of Thermopylae would have to be found in the tradition of the battle of Allia. There is, however, nothing in the tradition of that battle which is at all reminiscent of events at Thermopylae; indeed, the rout and ensuing flight of the Romans seem to be the antithesis of the Spartans’ heroic feat. yet the battle of Allia does not always appear on its own in the tradition, for it is quite frequently set alongside, and closely associated with, another battle, one which was said to have taken place nearly a century earlier, but one which was said to have taken place on precisely the same day, that is, on the eighteenth of July. This battle was the battle of Cremera, in which three hundred members of the gens Fabia died heroically defending Rome’s northern frontier from the forces of Veii.114 Some time ago S. Mazzarino argued that the synchronisation of the battles of Allia and Cremera was designed to exonerate the Fabii from, or to make amends for, the rash actions of the three ambassadors who were sent to Clusium.115 Rather Oakley (1997) 85; Griffiths (1998); Wiseman (2000) 297–99, (2003) 30–32, (2004) 72–73, (2008) passim; Forsythe (2005) 77, 147–48, 191–92, 196–97, 200, 223–24, 230, 284–85. 114 For the date of the disaster at Cremera, see Livy 6.1.11; Tac. Hist. 2.91.1; CIL I2 pp. 248, 322; Degrassi (1963) 208; cf. also Plut. Cam. 19.1; Cassius Hemina fr. 20P = fr. 24 Santini = Macrob. Sat. 1.16.21–24 and Cn. Gellius fr. 25P = Macrob. Sat. 1.16.21–24; Mommsen (1859) 26 n. 32. Ovid Fast. 2.195–242, in contrast, has the Fabii massacred on the thirteenth of February; on this variant tradition, see the discussion in Chapter II, nn. 254 and 255. The very synchronisation of the battles of Cremera and Allia itself may possibly also provide a further parallel with the tradition of xerxes’ invasion, for the battle of Thermopylae was said to have taken place at precisely the same time as the naval operations near Artemisium (Hdt. 8.15.1); cf. Feeney (2007) 44; the synchronisation of important events was, however, fairly commonplace in antiquity. 115 Mazzarino (1966a) 246–48. Mazzarino’s hypothesis and approach have been widely adopted; cf. Sordi (1984); Richard (1988), (1989) 318–20, (1989a) 78–80, (1990) 186–90, (1992) 420;

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than negotiating with the Gauls, the ambassadors, all members of the gens Fabia, had ended up fighting them, and it was this, tradition claimed, which had brought the Gauls down on Rome. The synchronisation of the battles of Allia and Cremera, Mazzarino argued, allowed for this rash and irresponsible behaviour to be placed alongside the great sacrifice that the Fabii had made for Rome nearly a century earlier, and thus the damage done to the Fabii’s rank and reputation by the misconduct of the ambassadors was alleviated. Although attractive, the precise argument does not quite work as it stands. The synchronisation is between the destruction of the three hundred Fabii at Cremera and the defeat of the Roman army at Allia, events which were said to have both occurred on the eighteenth of July. Consequently the synchronisation does not associate the exploits of the Fabii at Cremera with the actions of the ambassadors at Clusium, for the ambassadors were sent to Clusium at an earlier date and presumably sometime prior to the elections for 390. There are alternative explanations for the story of the three ambassadors (for which, see below), and if the heroic deeds of the Fabii at Cremera were being used to exonerate anything, it must have been the disastrous defeat at the Allia. Naturally, given the fact that Rome’s forces in that battle were, according to most versions, under the command in particular of the three Fabii who had been sent to Clusium in the previous year, Mazzarino’s idea of exoneration is still perfectly viable and so need not be discarded. The synchronisation may have been devised to pardon or excuse the Fabii for their involvement in the disastrous defeat at Allia. This may not be the whole explanation however. Since the tradition of the sack of Rome by the Gauls has been modelled on the tradition of the Persian occupation of Athens, this may give a special significance to the synchronisation of the battle of Allia with the destruction of the three hundred Fabii at Cremera. This is because the synchronisation allows the exploits of the three hundred Fabii to be brought into close association with, and indeed in some accounts to be virtually incorporated into, the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome. Consider, for example, Plutarch’s account. Plutarch narrates the march of the Gauls on Rome, the advance of the Roman army to meet them, the battle of Allia and the defeat of the Romans. He then notes, immediately afterwards, that this battle took place on the very same day as that on which the three hundred Fabii had been killed by the Etruscans. Plutarch then inserts a digression on unlucky days before resuming his narrative of the Gallic sack.116 A similar structure can be found in Orosius’ account. Although Orosius focuses on the fact that Fabii were in command on both occasions, and on the fact that both defeats occurred near rivers, the Allia and the Cremera,117 the tradition that these events took place on the very same day is presumably also behind Orosius’ decision to mention the defeat at Cremera in his account of the defeat at Allia. The synchronisation is also discussed by Livy, albeit in

Santini (1995) 175–76; Fraschetti (1998) 744; but note Torelli (1978) 226, who reverses the significance of the synchronisation. 116 Plut. Cam. 18.2–19.8. 117 Oros. 2.19.6: testatur hanc Fabii cladem fluvius Halia sicut Cremera Fabiorum.

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the context of a debate in the Senate which Livy places in the following year rather than in his narrative of the Gallic sack.118 As E. Pais demonstrated over a century ago and as Ogilvie notes in the passage quoted at the beginning of this chapter, the story of the Fabii at Cremera is effectively nothing other than the story of the Spartans at Thermopylae, transferred to Italy and dressed up in Roman garb.119 Just as there were three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae, so there were three hundred Fabii at Cremera. The three hundred Spartans were accompanied by 3,900 allies according to Herodotus, but by 4,000 according to Diodorus, while the three hundred Fabii were said to have had with them 4,000 others.120 The three hundred Spartans were all killed, as were the three hundred Fabii. However, before that happened, Megistias of Acarnania sent away his son, his only child, who had accompanied him on the expedition; thus Megistias’ only child survived. Similarly only one member of the gens Fabia was said to have survived, a single child too young to fight.121 Both episodes were virtually contemporary with one another as well. The Spartans were defeated in 480; in the developed tradition, the Fabii set out in 479 (V) and were defeated two years later in 477 (V). This minor chronological divergence is of no real significance; discrepancies of a similar size between Greek chronology and Roman can be found elsewhere, in the calculation of the date of the Gallic sack for instance (dated to 390 on Roman [V] chronology, but to 387/6 on Greek).122 The campaign of the three hundred Fabii at Cremera has quite obviously been modelled on the campaign of the three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae. These events were also said to have taken place at about the same time. However, tradition also maintained that the three hundred Fabii had been massacred on the eighteenth of July, on the very same day as the Romans were later defeated by the Gauls in the battle of Allia. Since this latter synchronisation was concerned only with the day and the month, but not the year, in which these events took place, the defeat at Cremera was thus simultaneously associated by chronological means with the bat118 Livy 6.1.11; cf. also Cassius Hemina fr. 20P = fr. 24 Santini = Macrob. Sat. 1.16.21–24 and Cn. Gellius fr. 25P = Macrob. Sat. 1.16.21–24. 119 Pais (1906) 176–79, (1915) 155–56; see also Ogilvie (1965) 359–60. Pais’ argument has been widely accepted; those who have sought to refute it are few: cf. De Sanctis (1960) 124–25; Hubaux (1958) esp. 342–43; Holleman (1976) esp. 215; but Hubaux’s and Holleman’s arguments will persuade no one; Richard (1990) 181. 120 The Fabii are often said to have been 306 in number (sources in Fugmann [1997] 73); for 300 Fabii, see Diod. 11.53.6; Val. Max. 9.11.ext.4; Sil. Pun. 2.4, 6.637, 7.46, 7.56; Flor. 1.6.2; Sen. Ben. 5.3.2; Plut. Cam. 19.1; Eutrop. 1.16.1; Ampel. 20.2; Ovid Fast. has 306 Fabii at 2.196 but 300 at 2.203. For the 3,900 allies of the Spartans, see Hdt. 7.202; for the figure of 4,000, Diod. 11.4.5; for the 4,000 clients and friends of the Fabii, see esp. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.15.3; cf. Fest. 450L. 121 Hdt. 7.221; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.22; Livy 2.50.11, 3.1.1; Ovid Fast. 2.239–40; Fest. 174L; De vir. ill. 14.6; Serv. Aen. 6.845; Eutrop. 1.16.3; Zon. 7.17. 122 On the date of the Gallic sack, see n. 5 above. Note Gell. NA 17.21.12–13, who associates the battle of Salamis (480 BC) with the battle of Cremera, although noting the slight chronological gap; cf. also Sen. Ep. 82.20. For further parallels between the battles of Thermopylae and Cremera, see Pais (1906) 176–79, (1915) 155–56; Forsythe (2005) 196–97.

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tle of Thermopylae and with the battle of Allia, and so served as a bridge between the two. And, most importantly, since the three hundred Fabii were said to have been destroyed on the same day as the Romans were defeated by the Gauls, the events at Cremera could be, and indeed were, incorporated into the tradition of the Gallic sack, and this allowed the tradition of the sack of Rome to have, as near as it could, its own battle of Thermopylae. Two further parallels may have served to strengthen the connection between the sack of Rome and the expedition of the three hundred Fabii. Tradition held that the ambassadors sent to Clusium were three brothers who were all from the gens Fabia, and that these same three brothers led Rome’s forces at the battle of Allia. This may bring to mind the three brothers (also all members of the gens Fabia) who held in turn one of the two consulships from 485–479 BC, before setting out for Cremera.123 The three Fabii at Clusium and at Allia may also, for simple numerical reasons, be evocative of the three hundred Fabii. Secondly, although much more tenuously, when the three hundred Fabii departed in 479, they left the city through the porta Carmentalis, or so tradition claimed. Topographically this makes no sense at all and, as the porta Carmentalis was a gate in the Servian wall, it is unlikely to have existed in the early fifth century BC. Although the story, which was used to explain why the right-hand side of the porta Carmentalis was inauspicious, is aetiological and almost certainly late, it may not wholly be without significance that the Gauls were said to have ascended the Capitol near the shrine of Carmenta (and so, in theory, near the porta Carmentalis), a story which does at least make topographical sense.124 As far as Herodotus was concerned, the primary cause of xerxes’ invasion of Greece was Athens’ involvement in the revolt of the Ionian cities from Persia. Furthermore, xerxes set fire to the Athenian Acropolis, or so Herodotus supposed, in retaliation for the destruction of Sardis and, along with it, a temple of the goddess Cybele, both of which had been burnt down at the very beginning of the Ionian revolt.125 The cause of the Gauls’ march on Rome was, according to Roman tradition, the behaviour of the Roman ambassadors at Clusium (and their violation of the ius gentium) and the subsequent decision of the Roman people to elect the three ambassadors as consular tribunes for the coming year, rather than hand them over to the Gauls. As for the arrival of the Gauls at Clusium, the cause of that was, according to tradition, the domestic dispute between Arruns and Lucumo. At first sight, these events appear to be quite different indeed, but it may be that there are nonetheless some parallels to be found between them. Certainly the several possible points of comparison are worth noting, if only because it is abundantly 123 See Chapter II, section 3.1. 124 For the departure of the Fabii, see Livy 2.49.8; Ovid Fast. 2.201–4; Fest. 450L; Sil. Pun. 7.48–50; Flor. 1.6.2; Dio fr. 21.3; De vir. ill. 14.5; Serv. Aen. 8.337; Oros. 2.5.8; cf., variously, Holland (1961) 242–60; Ogilvie (1965) 363–64; Wiseman (1990) 732; Richardson (1992) 301; Fugmann (1997) 78–80. On the place where the Gauls scaled the Capitol, see Livy 5.47.2; Plut. Cam. 25.2 (Cominius’ route: he ascended near the porta Carmentalis). Cf. Pais (1906) 173. 125 Hdt. 5.97.3, 5.101–102.1, 5.105, 8.22.2.

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clear that the tradition of xerxes’ invasion of Greece has had a profound effect on the development of the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome, and because (as was first argued in the Introduction to the book) ancient views about what constituted a plausible parallel or sufficient grounds for making a comparison between events could clearly differ from modern. The discussion should, at the very least, allow for the extent to which the tradition of the sack of Rome has been styled upon events in the Greek world to be tested, even if only in a negative way. The Ionian revolt was initiated, according to Herodotus, by Aristagoras of Miletus after an abortive expedition against Naxos had left him with serious financial troubles. Certain men of substance, Herodotus says, had been banished from Naxos by the people. These men had subsequently ended up in Miletus, where they had approached Aristagoras to ask him for his help, so that they might be able to return to their homes. Although he was willing to assist them, Aristagoras did not possess the necessary resources. He proposed, however, to enlist the aid of the Persian Artaphrenes, who was at that time in charge of the entire coastal region of Asia and who had at his disposal an army and a fleet. The proposal was accepted and Aristagoras set out for Sardis.126 To persuade Artaphrenes that participation in the planned expedition to Naxos would be worthwhile, Aristagoras, Herodotus says, told him about the beauty of the island and its fertility, its richness in property and slaves; he also stressed the strategic value of the place.127 The tactic had the desired effect. Artaphrenes agreed to help and set about making the necessary preparations. The expedition which followed proved to be expensive, and it was also, in the end, unsuccessful. Since he had also promised to give Artaphrenes money, Aristagoras fell into further difficulties. It was at this stage that he began to organise the revolt of the Ionian states.128 Although there are obviously certain differences, there are perhaps also some similarities here with the tale of Arruns and Lucumo: Arruns had been forced to leave his home, as had the men of Naxos; like the men of Naxos, Arruns sought aid from others; Arruns turned to the Gauls because, like Aristagoras, he did not himself possess the necessary resources; to lure the Gauls into Italy, Arruns introduced them to the fruits of the region, while Aristagoras secured the aid of the Persians by drawing their attention to the good things that Naxos had to offer. So far, these parallels may seem thin, commonplace or perhaps even forced; but several more can be added, and that may increase the chances that there could be something here. The states of Ionia had previously been organised into a league of twelve cities; after they had been brought under Persian rule, it would appear that the Ionians nonetheless continued to meet at the Panionium, the religious centre of the league.129 In their accounts of the arrival of the Gauls in northern Italy, Diodorus, Livy and Plutarch all include some mention of the twelve cities of Etruria. None of them says that Clusium was one of the twelve, so there is no immediately obvious reason why 126 127 128 129

Hdt. 5.30. Hdt. 5.31.1–3. Hdt. 5.31.4–38. Hdt. 1.142–148, 1.170.1, 6.7.

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they should all have mentioned the twelve cities at this point in their respective narratives, beyond the fact, that is, that mention of them was quite clearly something firmly entrenched in the tradition.130 Once he had decided to rebel from Persia, Aristagoras set out first for Sparta to ask for assistance against the Persians and afterwards, when the Spartan King Cleomenes refused to get involved, Aristagoras went to Athens to ask the Athenians if they would help. The Athenians were more receptive and voted to send twenty ships to fight alongside the Ionians.131 When the Gauls arrived at Clusium, the Clusini sent envoys to Rome of all places to ask for assistance. Instead of military aid, the Romans sent only ambassadors, but as those ambassadors fought alongside the Clusini their actions in the end had the same effect on the Gauls as the Athenian involvement in the Ionian revolt had on the Persians. There is probably no significant parallel between the traditions here, but there is one detail that is common to several accounts that may just be worth noting, even if it is perhaps only a commonplace. Just as the decision of the Athenian people (to aid the Ionians) was the ultimate cause of the Persian invasion, so the decision of the Roman people (to elect the ambassadors to office instead of surrendering them to the Gauls) was ultimately the cause of the Gallic invasion, according to some versions of the story at any rate. In both narratives, therefore, it was possible to lay blame on a decision of the people, and certainly comments on the nature of the people are found in several of the sources.132 The tradition that the Romans sent ambassadors to Clusium rather than military aid is clearly a significant difference, but it is conceivable that this episode has been styled upon other events, events which took place much later, at the time of xerxes’ expedition. The Roman ambassadors were said to have been three in number, and in Diodorus’ version (which may reflect an earlier stage in the tradition’s development, since Camillus’ role in it is minimal), the ambassadors were sent to spy on the Gauls’ army.133 When they heard that the Persian army was at Sardis, the Greeks resolved to send spies there to study xerxes’ forces. The Greek spies were, like the Fabii, precisely three in number.134 While much lengthier and more detailed and developed, the story of the three Greeks sent to spy on the Persians’ army may well have been the inspiration for the story of the three Romans who were sent to spy on the Gauls’ army. The possibility that the tradition of events at Clusium may have been inspired, to some degree, by some account, perhaps Herodotus’, of the Ionian revolt and of xerxes’ invasion may therefore provide some explanation for several otherwise inexplicable and improbable elements in the tradition: the tale of Arruns of Clusium (on which, see section 6 below as well); the mention, consistent and yet scarcely necessary, of the twelve cities of Etruria; the appeal of the Clusini for aid; the story 130 131 132 133 134

Diod. 14.113.2; Livy 5.33.9; Plut. Cam. 16.2. See section 2 above. Hdt. 5.49–51 (Sparta), 5.97 (Athens). Hdt. 5.97.1–2; Diod. 14.113.6–7; Livy 5.36.10. Diod. 14.113.4 (quoted in n. 18 above). Hdt. 7.146–147.1.

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of the three ambassadors (or at least Diodorus’ version of it); and the idea that a decision of the Roman people was to blame for the Gallic invasion. As was argued in the third section above, all of these elements in the tradition are almost certainly later, unhistorical elaboration. Why should they have been incorporated into the tradition? One answer is that they may have provided parallels with Greek affairs, and with the tradition of xerxes’ invasion of Greece in particular. The mention of the twelve cities of Etruria is perhaps the most distinctive of these several parallels. In Ionia there was a league of twelve cities; so too was there said to have been a group of twelve cities in Etruria. Is this simply a coincidence, or could the twelve cities of Etruria conceivably be a calque of the Ionian league of twelve cities?135 It is worthwhile digressing briefly and looking at the evidence for the twelve cities of Etruria a little more closely. Much has been written about the possibility that there may have been a league of twelve cities in Etruria, and the idea is clearly dear to some, but the evidence for this league is really quite difficult; indeed, even the very use of the word ‘league’ is not free from problems. Naturally the issue which is immediately relevant here is not whether or not there did actually exist a league of states in Etruria, but rather, assuming that a league or some such may have once existed, whether or not the cities that belonged to it were precisely twelve in number. Nonetheless, it should be noted from the outset that there is in fact little good evidence to support the idea that the states of Etruria did actually work together in the way that the notion of a league would suppose that they might have done. Certainly there is some evidence which suggests that Etruscan cities might cooperate with one another (a state of affairs which can reasonably be assumed to have existed anyway), but there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that this cooperation was of a permanent or even long-lasting nature, and there is plenty of evidence for disunity.136 The only Etruscan evidence or rather, it must be stressed, potential evidence, for the idea of a league is found in two inscriptions from Tarquinia, in one from Volsinii, and on the recently discovered tabula Cortonensis, in all of which reference is made to a magistrate called the zilaq mecl rasnal.137 Dionysius says that the 135 Some have, perhaps not surprisingly, argued that the Etruscans brought the idea of a league of twelve cities with them when they migrated from Asia Minor, or that they later borrowed the idea from the Ionians (cf., e. g., Altheim [1950] 65–72; Alföldi [1965] 26; Ogilvie [1965] 705); but the first argument rests upon an overly simplistic, and chronologically problematic, model of migration, a model which ultimately owes its existence to ancient Greek methods (see, e. g., the discussion in Pallottino [1975] 69–75; more recently, Briquel [2001], who places any migration at a considerably earlier date), while the kind of conscious, collective agreement that the second argument presupposes seems both a little implausible, and to be precluded by the evidence for disunity amongst the various cities of Etruria (for which, see n. 136). 136 See the classic studies of Pareti (1958) 283–94 and Camporeale (1958) esp. 8–16; more recently, Camporeale (2001). One easy, and indeed the most common, solution to this problem is to suppose that the league was purely or primarily religious in nature; another, probably better, solution is to suppose that unions were formed (only?) on an ad hoc basis, cf. Facchetti (2000) 35–39. 137 TLE 87a = Ta 7.59 ([–?– sp]ur≥inas: an: zilaq: amce: mecl: rasnal); TLE 137 = Ta 1.184 (zilaq[. mec-.] rasnas); TLE 233 = Vs 1.179 (meclum: rasneas clevsinsl[:] z≥ilacnv≥e); for the tabula Cortonensis see, e. g., Facchetti (2000) 82. TLE 99 = Ta 1.170 is also cited on occasion.

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Etruscans called themselves ‘Rasenna’, while zilaq seems to have been the title of a magistrate of some description (the word is frequently translated as ‘praetor’). It has consequently been argued that zilaq mecl rasnal should be translated as ‘praetor of the people of Etruria’,138 and thus understood to be the title of the leader or head of the Etruscan league.139 Both the translation and the significance of the title have been challenged, and with very good reason, but for the sake of the argument, both can be accepted here. The evidence for this magistracy is, after all, the only potential Etruscan evidence for the existence of any league. This evidence is striking for two particular reasons: firstly, its rather limited nature (just four inscriptions), and secondly, the absence of any mention of the number, twelve or otherwise, of the cities involved. The phrase mecl rasnal, if it does mean simply ‘the people of Etruria’,140 would presumably preclude a number as small as twelve in any case, as there were considerably more than twelve Etruscan cities (although this does, to an extent, depend on what actually qualified as a city). All this stands in contrast with the literary evidence which refers quite regularly to the twelve cities or the twelve peoples of Etruria.141 If the number twelve was so important, as the Latin and Greek evidence seems to suggest it was, why should the Etruscans themselves appear to have remained completely silent about it? There were certainly more than a dozen Etruscan cities, and it is possible now largely only to guess which of them were supposed to have been numbered amongst the chosen twelve. If membership of this select group was of any special value or significance, and presumably it must have been, no city it would seem was concerned to advertise such membership, at least not in any lasting way, or in any way that made any impression whatsoever on any of those Greek or Latin authors whose works have survived, or for that matter on any of their sources. Given the highly competitive nature of the ancient world, this apparent silence may seem surprising. 138 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.30.3, on which, and on the phrase mecl rasnal, see, e. g., and variously, Camporeale (1958) 17, 18–23; Lambrechts (1959) 95; Pallottino (1979) 775–78; Aigner Foresti (1994) 329–30; Watmough (1997) 89–91; Wylin (2000) 272–76; Facchetti (2000) 30–39; Maggiani (2001) 232–33; and other works cited in the following note; on the zilaq, see, e. g., Heurgon (1957) 79–84; Lambrechts (1959) 89–108; Pallottino (1975) 133–34; Wylin (2000) 208–9; Maggiani (2001) 229, 237–41. 139 For the idea that the zilaq mecl rasnal was the head of the Etruscan league, see, e. g., Heurgon (1957) 89–93; Alföldi (1965) 179; Scullard (1967) 232 (‘probably’); Liou (1969) 92; Aigner Foresti (1994) 340–42; Wylin (2000) 174 (‘probabilmente’); Facchetti (2000) 37; against the idea, see, e. g., Camporeale (1958) 22–23; Pallottino (1975) 126 (‘doubtful’), (1979) 774; Maggiani (2001) 238, cf. also 240–41 and (2001a) 42–48. 140 But it is very contentious, see n. 138 above. 141 Livy 1.8.3 (duodecim populis), 4.23.5 (duodecim populos), 5.1.5 (duodecim populorum), 5.33.9 (urbibus duodenis), 7.21.9 (duodecim populos); and also, but without mention of the twelve cities or peoples, 4.24.2, 4.25.7, 4.31.6, 4.61.2, 5.4.14, 5.5.8, 5.17.6, 6.2.2, 6.3.2, 7.17.6, 9.32.1, 9.41.6, 10.13.3, 10.16.3; note that, while Livy usually mentions ‘peoples’, it is only at 5.33.9 (the beginning of his account of the Gallic sack) that he mentions twelve ‘cities’. Also Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 3.61.2 (tou\j dw/deka pele/keij e0ko/misan au0tw|= labo/ntej e0c e9ka/sthj po/lewj e3na), 4.27.4 (dw/deka po/leij), 6.75.3 (dw/deka… h9gemoni/aj), 9.18.2–3; and also 3.51.4, 3.57.1, 3.59.3–4, 8.91.3, 9.1.2, 9.16.2, 9.34.2, 9.36.1.

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But if, on the other hand, membership was not restricted to a select group (as the phrase mecl rasnal may imply), then there would be no need to distinguish between those places that were members and those that were not. The evidence for the zilaq mecl rasnal and the idea of an Etruscan league are often connected with the evidence, which dates to the imperial period, for the praetor Etruriae XV populorum.142 It has been argued that the original Etruscan league collapsed, or simply faded away, possibly sometime in the third century BC; that this league was later revived, perhaps by Augustus or possibly by Claudius; and that the praetor Etruriae XV populorum, the head of this newly revived league, was the natural heir to the zilaq mecl rasnal.143 If some reconstruction along these lines is correct, then it is necessary to ask why the twelve cities or peoples subsequently became fifteen. The number twelve, problematic in itself, has been defended on the grounds of ritual significance and religious conservatism,144 but that argument is somewhat subverted by the later increase to fifteen.145 An alternative solution, and one which solves all the problems in the evidence, may be to suggest that the basic idea that the states or peoples that made up this league were restricted to a specific number owed its existence perhaps entirely to the literary tradition (in which the league may have been a calque of the Ionian league); the increase to fifteen could then be seen as an attempt to adapt something which had ultimately never existed (namely, a league specifically of twelve cities) to the practical realties in Etruria. That is to say, any continuity or connection between the league of twelve cities and the praetor Etruriae XV populorum is perhaps as likely to be artificial and antiquarian as it is to be authentic. Be that as it may, the evidence for the fifteen peoples is, at best (for those who believe that a league of twelve cities did exist), not applicable to the present discussion for chronological reasons at least, or is, at worst, further confirmation that the idea of a league of twelve cities rests on very shaky foundations. There is a further detail in the tradition which can perhaps also be explained by the idea that the twelve cities of Etruria may have been a calque of the twelve cities of Ionia. Livy, in his narrative of events leading up to the Gallic sack, does not have just the one group of twelve cities. He has two, one on one side of the Apennines and a second group (colonies of the first) on the other. A similar situation seems to 142 For the evidence, and discussion of it, see Liou (1969); Torelli (1995) 79–92. 143 Liou (1969) 95–96, dating the restoration to the time of Claudius, but also arguing (82–84) that Hadrian established the praetorship (previously, the title used was aedilis Etruriae); Scullard (1967) 283 also opts for Claudius as the one who revived the league; for Augustus: Torelli (1975) 121, 194, (1995) 91; Rawson (1978) 147–48; Haynes (2000) 386. For arguments against this hypothesis, see Pallottino (1979) 778. 144 Cf., e. g., Pallottino (1975) 125; Haynes (2000) 135. Aigner Foresti (1994) 345 suggests that the number twelve could be explained by the idea of a monthly rotation of the league’s leadership; but note that Aigner Foresti (342) also accepts the idea of continuity with the praetor Etruriae. 145 Pallottino (1979) 776–78 once toyed with the possibility that mecl may mean ‘fifteen’ (so praetor Etruriae XV populorum would, on this hypothesis, almost be the exact equivalent of zilaq mecl rasnal). He did not pursue the idea, however, and it seems unlikely that mecl is in fact a number at all; cf. Liou (1969) 89–90 and also various references in n. 138 above.

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be supposed by Diodorus, also in his narrative of events leading up to the Gallic sack.146 It is not impossible that this detail may reveal a further debt to Greek tradition, and may lend support to the possibility that the twelve cities of Etruria may have been modelled on the twelve cities of Ionia, and may have been so, moreover, with a specific debt to Herodotus’ description of those cities. For Herodotus says that the Ionians established twelve cities in Ionia precisely because they had had twelve cities in the Peloponnese.147 So in Herodotus too, as later in Livy, there was an original group of twelve cities which in turn led to the foundation of a second group of twelve.148 Ultimately it does not matter for the present discussion whether or not there was an actual league of Etruscan states. More important is the idea that this league, if it did exist, consisted of just twelve cities, and for that, there is really no good evidence at all. The evidence that there is for the twelve cities is both late and literary, and that may well be because the idea itself may have been largely confined to the literary tradition.149 It is at least possible, therefore, that the twelve cities of Etruria may indeed be nothing more than a calque of the twelve cities of Ionia. There is, however, a further matter which must be considered. It is potentially of greater significance, as it offers an alternative explanation for the idea that the cities of the Etruscan league were precisely twelve in number. Romulus was said to have established the trappings and symbols of office at Rome, trappings and symbols which were believed to have been inherited, after the expulsion of the kings, by the consuls. Amongst these were included the twelve lictors who bore the twelve fasces. Livy says that some stated that Romulus had appointed twelve lictors on account of the twelve birds which he had seen during the augury contest with Remus, but Livy himself preferred to follow those who thought that the number of lictors, and the office itself, came from Etruria. The number was 146 Livy 5.33.9–10; Diod. 14.113.2. See notes 13 and 14 above. 147 Hdt. 1.145. 148 Strabo 5.4.3 claimed that there was a third group based in Campania: dw/deka de\ po/leij e0gkatoiki/santaj th\n oi[on kefalh\n o0noma/sai Kapu/hn. The claim is perhaps simply the result of the Etruscan presence in Campania, and may show just how automatically Greek and Roman writers came to think of the number twelve when they thought of Etruscan cities. 149 Note Harris (1971) 59 n. 2: ‘The league existed’, but (13): ‘it may be said that when the literary sources for the political structure of the Etruscan states and the ‘League of the Twelve Peoples’ are collected, there is little that looks securely authentic. Meetings of the concilium of the Twelve Peoples, for example, were surely products of literary embroidery’. All the literary evidence for the workings, and the magistracies, of the Etruscan states is discussed by Lambrechts (1959) 21–31; his discussion does not inspire confidence: the sources clearly know little, and much of the material seems antiquarian in nature. The literary evidence is also curiously patchy with various writers seemingly unaware of the existence of any ‘league’, and with references to the twelve cities only appearing in certain contexts (often antiquarian in nature), see Briquel (2001a), although his argument that many references to the twelve cities ultimately come from Etruscan sources does not seem to be proved. There is no evidence for the twelve peoples (or cities) of Etruria outside the Greco-Roman literary tradition; on the Iguvine tables, for instance, the Etruscans are simply referred to as a single ethnic group (see Ib17; VIb54, 58–59; VIIa12, 47–48).

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explained by the idea that each of the twelve peoples which elected the king (presumably, of the twelve peoples) contributed one lictor.150 While certain insignia of office (the sella curulis and the toga praetexta) may well have been adopted by the Romans from the Etruscans, as may have been the lictors and the fasces, the explanation for the number itself is probably no more than an antiquarian reconstruction. Rather than deriving from the idea of twelve cities, the twelve lictors who attended each of the two consuls may possibly have been the stimulus for the invention of the tradition, or the assumption, that the cities of Etruria must have been twelve in number. If so, the notion that there were twelve cities of Etruria obviously cannot owe its existence to any parallel with the twelve cities of Ionia. Given that the tradition of the sack of Rome was obviously styled upon the tradition of the sack of Athens, the very fact that Diodorus, Livy and Plutarch all mention the twelve cities of Etruria at a stage in their respective narratives and in a way that would seem to allow for some comparison to be made with the twelve cities of Ionia must be deemed suspicious. It would be the most extraordinary coincidence, if a coincidence is all that it is. It may be unlikely that the idea that the Etruscans possessed twelve cities was invented solely for the purpose of creating a parallel with the narrative of the Ionian revolt and of xerxes’ invasion of Greece, but it may, whatever its origins,151 nonetheless be something which has subsequently been exploited for the parallel which it does create with that narrative. The discussion so far in this section and in the previous one has dealt with, and has tried to discern a single model for, an extremely wide range of different stories and episodes. It is now time, first of all, to draw the various elements of the discussion together, and then to attempt to offer an explanation for the numerous potential parallels that have been detected in the tradition. There are many details in the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome that may, but equally may not, have been adapted from the tradition of the Persian invasion of Greece and sack of Athens. Some of the possibilities suggested in the preceding discussion may be deemed less persuasive and some simply not persuasive at all (although the evident willingness of the Romans to see parallels between events must be kept in mind). As was stated at the outset of this section, the purpose of the present discussion is simply to explore the extent to which the Roman tradition may be indebted to the Greek and, for reasons that were explained in the Introduction to the book, the approach that has been adopted throughout is deliberately inclusive. However, that the tradition of the Gallic sack does indeed owe something to the tradition of the sack of Athens can hardly be denied. The extent of this possible debt 150 Livy 1.8.2–3 (see also Ael. NA 10.22 for the connection with the twelve vultures); Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 3.61.2–3; Flor. 1.1.5.5–6; essentially accepted as historical by Alföldi (1965) 27–28, 179, but the iconographical evidence may suggest, even allowing for artistic licence, that this is problematic; see the material collected in Lambrechts (1959) 125–85, where multiple lictors are often depicted; cf. Maggiani (2001a) 46–47; Briquel (2001a) 14–15. For the idea that Rome’s insignia of office were adopted from the Etruscans, see also Diod. 5.40.1; Sall. Cat. 51.38; Strabo 5.2.2; Plin. HN 8.195; Sil. Pun. 8.483–87; Macrob. Sat. 1.6.7. 151 If the twelve cities are indeed a calque of the Ionian league, then ancient views on the origins of the Etruscans may be significant in this context; cf. n. 135 above.

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can be summarised best and presented most clearly and effectively in a diagram (see the next page). Not only does this diagram provide a succinct overview of many of the possible parallels that appear to exist between the traditions of the sack of Athens and of the sack of Rome, it also shows how the individual parallels all neatly fit together to create effectively two complete parallel narratives. Furthermore, the diagram shows very clearly how the battle of Cremera can be placed into this scheme, and how the tradition of that event may serve to emphasise the parallels, in part by associating the battle of Allia with the battle of Thermopylae. The diagram also shows how important the Fabian element may be to this whole presentation of the sack of Rome. Even though Sordi may have been wrong to claim that it was Fabius Pictor who was entirely responsible for modelling the tradition of the sack of Rome on the sack of Athens, it is reasonable to suppose that Pictor may have had some influence on the development of the tradition. Since the Fabii were held responsible for the Gallic invasion and for the defeat at the Allia, it is also reasonable to suppose that the purpose of some element of this was exoneration, as Mazzarino has argued was the case with the synchronisation of the defeat at Cremera with the defeat at Allia. However, if members of the same gens often tend to behave in the same way, and if demagogues and other stock characters often behave in the same way too, then why should events in the histories of great peoples and great cities not turn out similarly as well? It is, once again, a question of what counts as plausible historical narrative, but it is also in this instance a question of rivalry. Historiography was a Greek invention, and so inevitably many of the fundamental standards and conventions of the genre had been established by those Greeks who first produced historiographical works. Furthermore, the use of synchronisations and parallels was, for a start, an important chronological device,152 and so in turn an important part of any historical narrative.153 If the writings of, perhaps most obviously, Herodotus were treated by the Romans as in some way exemplary, and were perhaps even used by them as a yardstick of what sort of story was appropriate to the genre (or simply appropriate to this type of historical narrative; much of the Roman tradition was almost certainly organised at a time prior to the arrival of literary historiography at Rome), some emulation of their content may well have been an inevitable corollary, especially if (as was suggested earlier) these sorts of parallels were already to be found in early Greek writings about Rome.154 In any case, the copying of episodes from the writings of the Greeks would, at the very least, have been an easy way for Rome’s historians to fill gaps in the tradition of Rome’s 152 As, e. g., the method used by Polybius and Diodorus to date the sack of Rome shows. See n. 58 above. 153 On synchronisation and the various uses to which it could be put, see Feeney (2007) 7–67; Griffiths (1998); cf. Grafton and Swerdlow (1988) on ancient views regarding individual days. 154 Cf., in this general context, Gabba (2000) 11–68; Momigliano (1990) 106–8; Frier (1979) 260– 65; Wiseman (1979) 23–24, (2000) 299; Woodman (1979) 152–53 on ‘substantive imitation’; Mastrocinque (1988) 32–35; Oakley (1997) 9–10, 85; Beck and Walter (2001) 22–26; Krebs (2006); Feeney (2007) esp. 20–21; Dillery (2009) 78–90.

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1] Twelve cities of Ionian League.

1] Twelve cities of Etruria. 2] Dealings of Arruns of Clusium (a city in Etruria) with the Gauls cause problems for Clusium.

2] Dealings of Aristagoras of Miletus (a city in Ionia) with the Persians cause problems for Aristagoras.

Aristagoras appeals to Athens for aid against the Persians.

Clusium appeals to Rome for aid against the Gauls.

1] Decision of the people. Athens intervenes. Athenians fight alongside the Ionians.

1] Rome intervenes. Romans fight alongside the Clusini. Decision of the people.

2] Persians seek revenge.

2] Gauls seek revenge.

3] The Greeks send three spies to Sardis to observe the Persiansʼ army.

3] Rome sends three ambassadors to the Gauls at Clusium. Diodorus claims that they were sent to observe the Gaulsʼ army.

THERMOPYLAE The Spartansʼ attempt to ward off the Persians by land fails. Three hundred Spartans fall in battle defending Greeceʼs northern frontier.

CREMERA At about the same time as the battle of Thermopylae, and on the very same day as the battle of Allia, three hundred Fabii die while attempting to defend Romeʼs northern frontier.

ALLIA On the same day as the defeat of the three hundred Fabii at Cremera, the Romansʼ attempt to ward off the Gauls fails. Romeʼs forces are led by three Fabii.

Athenians abandon Athens to the Persians. Some stay behind on the Acropolis.

Romans abandon Rome to the Gauls. Some stay behind on the Capitol.

1] After spending one month at the Hellespont, the Persians reach Attica three months later.

1] After spending one day at the Allia, the Gauls reach Rome three days later.

2] The Persians capture a deserted Athens. Only a small group holds out on the Acropolis.

2] The Gauls capture a deserted Rome. Only a small group holds out on the Capitol.

Athenian Acropolis besieged, captured and burnt by the Persians.

Capitol besieged and, in some versions, captured. Rome burnt by the Gauls.

Some Athenians find a new shoot on the stump of the olive tree in the burnt remains of the temple of Erechtheus. The shoot foretells the recovery of Athens.

Some Romans find Romulusʼ lituus in the burnt remains of the sacred hut of Mars. The discovery of the lituus foretells the recovery of Rome.

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past. Of course all this is unlikely to be a sufficient explanation in itself, and allowances should also be made for the highly competitive nature of the ancient world. It has been argued by T. P. Wiseman that the very topography of parts of the city of Rome may have been designed to recall or evoke the city of Athens;155 so too, it appears, were various events in the history of Rome designed to recall the history of Athens. Thus, to pick only a few famous examples, Rome’s kings were expelled at about the same time as were Athens’ tyrants; afterwards the Romans established a festival for Liber, just as the Athenians established one for Dionysus; King Porsenna of Clusium tried to restore Tarquinius Superbus to his throne but abandoned the idea, just as King Cleomenes of Sparta planned to restore Hippias but subsequently abandoned the idea; the Veientes also tried to reinstate Superbus, but after a difficult and indecisive battle, Silvanus (so Livy; Dionysius calls him Faunus) declared in the Romans’ favour, just as, when the Persians sought to reinstate Hippias, there was a difficult battle, and Pan declared that he favoured the Athenians; the career of Coriolanus, and especially his exile, came to be styled upon the events of Themistocles’ career and exile; and, of course, the three hundred Fabii fought and died as did the three hundred Spartans, and later (as has been argued here) Rome was captured by the Gauls just as Athens had been captured by the Persians.156 Athens was a great city with a glorious past; so too was Rome.157 It was therefore both plausible and appropriate to suppose that their histories were in some sense parallel or equal. While it may be tempting to seek or favour one single explanation for the various patterns and repetitions that are discernable in the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome (such as, for instance, the idea that Fabius Pictor was responsible for them all) the approach is inevitably risky. It is better to seek several explanations, and arguments concerning ancient ideas about what is appropriate and what is plausible offer safer ground than arguments about what agenda one individual historian may or may not have had, and even more so when the work of the historian in question no longer exists. Such an approach helps to explain the sheer number of these parallels more easily and also helps to explain why these various patterns and repetitions were adopted and developed by subsequent historians. One final episode in the tradition may offer further support for all these ideas.

155 Wiseman (1995a) 4, (2000) 299, (2004) 70. 156 For the several parallels listed here, and for numerous others, see the works cited in n. 113 above; note esp. Mastrocinque (1988) 32–35; Wiseman (2000) 297–99, with relevant references, and (2004) 72–73. For Themistocles and Coriolanus, see the Introduction. 157 Cf. Pais (1906) 183; Frier (1979) 264: ‘By ransacking the Greek classic historians, Pictor could find material for bolstering a version of Roman history not unworthy of Rome’s place in the Mediterranean world’; Griffiths (1998); Feeney (2007) 20: ‘the first practitioners of this kind of synchronization must have been intent on demonstrating that early Roman history ranked in dignity with the history of Greece and was entitled to the venerability of proper historiographical treatment’, cf. also 52–58, 95–98, as well as the various works cited in nn. 113 and 154 above.

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6. THE FABII AND THE CONSULSHIP After the departure of the Gauls, the Romans set about rebuilding their city, or so the tradition supposes. Having learnt that their city’s defences were inadequate, the Romans also soon began to construct a massive wall which encircled and protected their city. Thus the ‘Servian’ wall was one outcome of the sack.158 Another eventual outcome may have been the establishment, in 367 BC, of the dual consulship, the magistracy which was designed to ensure that executive power was shared equally between the two orders of the state, the patricians and the plebeians. The literary tradition claims that the dual consulship was merely restored in 367 after a period of slightly irregular suspension, but that is only because the literary tradition also maintains, against good evidence to the contrary,159 that the consulship had been first established immediately after the expulsion of the kings. If that latter idea is dismissed as an unhistorical assumption (an assumption not wholly different in nature from the one which had led to the belief that the ‘Servian’ wall had been built by King Servius Tullius) then it can be concluded that the consulship was in all likelihood an invention of the fourth century BC.160 The dual consulship was not restored in 367; it was first established in that year. As Wiseman has demonstrated, the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome is filled with tales of patrician failure, tales which are often set alongside, and contrasted with, various tales of plebeian piety.161 The most conspicuous patrician failures, and the ones most relevant for the present discussion, are of course those of the Fabii. Whatever the historical value of the story of the embassy to Clusium may be, several Fabii were believed to have held office in the year of Rome’s greatest disaster and were said to have been responsible (in part or wholly) for it.162 Other stories of patrician failure are insignificant by comparison. Nonetheless, all the stories of patrician failure (and of plebeian achievement) are undoubtedly to be connected with the tradition of the plebeians’ ultimately successful campaign to gain access to Rome’s highest magistracy, the consulship, and to enjoy an equal share in the running of the state. It is in this same context of the conflict of the orders that another important story is found, one which also happens to involve the Fabii and one which is also immediately relevant to the present argument that Greek history and Greek historiography were influential on Roman historical thought and so on the Roman histo158 See n. 86 above. 159 Cf., e. g., Hanell (1946) 165–80 passim, but with caution in places; Wiseman (1995) 103–4; and more recently Richardson (2008), (2010). 160 For the consulship as an invention of the fourth century, see, e. g., and most recently, Wiseman (1995) 106–7, (2003) 28–30, (2004) 65, 68, 88, 90; Welwei (2000) 49–50; Richardson (2008), (2008a). For the idea that the establishment of the consulship may have ultimately been a consequence of the Gallic sack, see recently Beck (2003) 80–81; Wiseman (2004) 88, 126, 128. 161 Wiseman (2004) 126–28, and 128–30 for the subsequent patrician reworking of the tradition, (2009) 64–65. See also Torelli (1978) 227–28. 162 For Fabian responsibility, note for instance Livy 6.1.6–7: a tribune of the plebs sought to indict Q. Fabius for his actions at Clusium.

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riographical tradition. In this instance, however, it is not a matter of the failings of the patrician Fabii, but instead of their active and successful involvement in events. Moreover, the events in question are precisely the restoration (as the tradition has it) of the dual consulship and (again, as the tradition has it) the opening up of that magistracy to members of the plebeian order. This episode can also therefore be connected with the Fabii’s concern for concordia.163 M. Fabius Ambustus had two daughters. According to Livy, the elder of the two was married to Ser. Sulpicius, a patrician, while the younger was the wife of the plebeian C. Licinius Stolo.164 One day in 376, during which year Sulpicius was consular tribune, the younger daughter, Fabia Minor, paid a visit to her sister at her home. While she was there one of Sulpicius’ lictors came to the house and, as was customary, announced his presence by striking the door with his staff. Since her husband was a plebeian and hence not eligible to stand for any of those offices which would entitle him to be attended by lictors, the younger Fabia was unacquainted with this practice. Consequently the sudden noise startled her greatly, and this caused her sister to laugh at her ignorance. Affronted by this, Livy says, Fabia Minor reluctantly confided in her father. She did not wish to upset her sister, nor her husband, but she was unhappy with the inequality of her marriage. Thereafter Fabius Ambustus met with Licinius Stolo and another plebeian, L. Sextius; together they planned to address the political inequalities of the plebeians; and thus began the long struggle which culminated in the passing of the Licinio-Sextian laws, laws which saw, among other reforms, the abolition of the consular tribunate, the restoration of the consulship, and the resolution that one of the two consuls should always be elected from the plebeian order.165 The laws that were passed in 367 are known as the Licinio-Sextian laws since, according to tradition, they were proposed, promoted, and finally passed by C. Licinius and L. Sextius. According to Livy, however, this legislation had ultimately been suggested by M. Fabius Ambustus, and Livy also has Fabius Ambustus, as consular tribune in 369, play an active role in promoting the proposed reforms.166 The sharing of power with the plebeians could not, following this version of events, be connected in any way with the failures or deficiencies of the Fabii. It was instead the result of a campaign which was initiated and supported by Fabius Ambustus, and which was motivated by a father’s concern for his daughter. The actions of the three sons of one M. Fabius Ambustus had resulted in the capture and sack of Rome. The story of the two daughters of another M. Fabius Ambustus provided an explanation for the establishment (or the restoration, according to the literary tradition) 163 For the Fabii and concordia, see Chapter II, section 3.2. 164 Livy 6.34.5. Zon. 7.24 has the older sister marry Licinius, the younger Sulpicius; on this variant, see Münzer (1909) 1884–85. 165 Livy 6.34.5–11; the story of Fabia is also found in Flor. 1.17.26.1–4; Dio fr. 29.1–2; Zon. 7.24; De vir. ill. 20.1, none of whom involves Fabius Ambustus in events to the same extent that Livy does (see n. 166), if they involve him at all. The version in De vir. ill. may derive from Licinius Macer, see Wiseman (2009) 19. On the variation in the tradition, see also Fugmann (1997) 168–73. 166 Livy 6.34.11, 6.36.7 (Fabius was the legum auctor), 6.36.10.

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of the consulship, an explanation in which the active participation of the Fabii, rather than any shortcomings, had been influential. The story is also self-evidently unhistorical. The younger daughter of Fabius Ambustus would have been perfectly familiar with the various practices of the lictors, not least because her own father had been consular tribune in 381.167 There is however much more involved in this story than simply providing an explanation for the restoration of the consulship and the opening up of that office to the plebs. Behind this story too there is a clear pattern, and this suggests that, once again, the tradition of events has been shaped by, or perhaps better, based upon a model. The story of Fabia Minor (according to which a woman was insulted and this ultimately resulted in the restoration of the dual consulship) is obviously comparable with the tale of Lucretia, whose rape led to the expulsion of the Tarquinii and the establishment of the Republic (led, according to tradition, from the start by two consuls). It is also comparable with the tale of Verginia, whose attempted abduction by Ap. Claudius resulted in the toppling of the decemvirate and the restoration of the republican constitution (led, according to tradition, once more by two consuls).168 The theme that political change is caused by some act which is harmful to a woman provides the most immediate link between these several stories, but C. Kraus has shown that there are numerous other parallels too:169 the presence of a father and a husband (or betrothed in the case of Verginia) is similarly common to all three stories; in the tales of Lucretia and Fabia additional characters are also introduced, Brutus in the former, Sextius in the latter, and these characters both played crucial roles in the subsequent establishment of the new regime; in contrast, the husbands of the two women soon undermined their own work, for Collatinus was exiled while Licinius broke his own agrarian law; and, in Livy’s account, there are numerous verbal parallels which are clearly designed to invite a direct comparison between the tales of Lucretia and Fabia.170 Further stories, although they do not contain these several precise parallels, also appear to have been based on the idea that political change of some kind follows from an act which is harmful to a woman. The story of the rape of the Sabine 167 Cf. De Sanctis (1960) 201–2; von Fritz (1950) 4–5; Kraus (1991) 322 and n. 31. Cornell’s attempt (1983) 115 to dismiss this difficulty is unpersuasive, while McClain’s (1998) 15 n. 22 subverts the entire story. Gagé (1953) is not persuasive. 168 Lucretia: Diod. 10.20; Livy 1.57.9–58.12; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.64.4–67.2; Ovid Fast. 2.761– 836; Val. Max. 6.1.1; Flor. 1.1.7.11; De vir. ill. 8.5, 9, 10.4; Dio fr. 11.13–19; Oros. 2.4.12; Serv. Aen. 8.646; Zon. 7.11; Verginia: Diod. 12.24.2–4; Livy 3.44.1–48.8; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 11.28.1–37.7; Val. Max. 6.1.2; Flor. 1.17.24.2–3; De vir. ill. 21; Pompon. Dig. 1.2.2.24; Oros. 2.13.6; Zon. 7.18. 169 Kraus (1991) 317–21; cf. also Pais (1906) 185–86 (on Verginia and Lucretia), 188–89 (on the maid of Ardea); Dutoit (1946) 199–200; Oakley (1997) 646–47; Fugmann (1997) 167. A different approach is taken by Lanciotti (1995), who instead compares Fabia Minor with Tanaquil and Tullia. 170 On Brutus and Sextius, see Kraus (1991) 319–20; Collatinus exiled: Livy 2.2.10–11; further references in MRR I, 1–2; Licinius’ violation of his own law: Livy 7.16.9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 14.12; Val. Max. 8.6.3; Plin. HN 18.17; Plut. Cam. 39.5; Colum. 1.3.11; verbal parallels: Kraus (1991) 318.

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women, for instance, may perhaps offer another example. The story explains the incorporation of people of Sabine stock into the Roman populace, the establishment of the curiae (or at least the naming of them), and of the three tribes (or at least the name of one of them), the designation of the Roman people as the Quirites, and also the co-regency of Romulus and Titus Tatius.171 Something of a reversal of the story of the rape of the Sabine women can be found in a somewhat overlooked passage in book two of Livy. Livy notes that the abduction of Roman prostitutes by certain Sabine youths resulted in a scuffle which threatened to rekindle the war with the Sabines. The harm done to these women too may have resulted in political change, although the details of this have been slightly obscured by what may be an alternative explanation of the relevant constitutional development. After relating the story of the prostitutes, Livy adds that Octavius Mamilius had stirred up revolt amongst the Latins, and that it was the fear which all this instilled in the Romans that prompted them to appoint their first dictator. The man chosen, according to the oldest writers, was T. Larcius. Livy then briefly discusses and dismisses a variant tradition, in which M’. Valerius was the first to be appointed dictator at Rome, before getting on to relating the details of Larcius’ dictatorship. Livy claims that the appointment of Larcius as dictator prevented the outbreak of hostilities with the Sabines, who sent legates to sue for peace, but, oddly enough, Livy does not have anything at all to say in his account of Larcius’ term about Octavius Mamilius, or about the Latins.172 That is, the story which accords best with Livy’s account of Larcius’ term in office is the story that the dictatorship was created following the abduction of the Roman prostitutes. It is therefore quite conceivable that the idea that the troubles stirred up by Mamilius led to the creation of the dictatorship is simply a later element or a rival tradition, one imperfectly grafted by Livy, or by his source, onto an earlier story in which the abduction of Roman prostitutes by Sabine youths ultimately led to the creation of the dictator171 Cic. Rep. 2.13; Varro Ling. 5.55, 6.68; Livy 1.13.4–8; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 2.46.1–2, 2.47.3; Plut. Rom. 19.7–20.2. Moore (1993) 39 n. 3 denies the story of the Sabine women a place in this framework as ‘Livy condones the rape and calls attention to the women as reconcilers rather than sufferers’; but this is relevant only to Livy’s handling of the story; besides, if not by their abduction, the women suffered on account of the war between their husbands and their fathers. Moreover, Moore has restricted himself only to those stories in which ‘the wrong done to the woman’ leads to ‘the destruction of the ruler or regime responsible for her suffering’ (39); this means that he does not include the stories of Fabia Minor, the rape of the Sabine women, the maid of Ardea (see Livy 4.9.4–12; on which see Ogilvie [1965] 546; Kraus [1991] 319), and the abduction of the Roman prostitutes (see below). His approach is clearly too restrictive. 172 Roman prostitutes: Livy 2.18.2; Mamilius: Livy 2.18.3; M’. Valerius as first dictator: Livy 2.18.6–7; Larcius’ dictatorship: Livy 2.18.8–11; note that Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 5.76, who does not tell the story of the abducted prostitutes, has Larcius carry out various operations against the Latins, but the result is only a brief truce, and necessarily so: Mamilius and the Latins were defeated by Rome’s second dictator, A. Postumius Albus, in the famous battle of Lake Regillus. It is possible that Livy has simply omitted this material concerning the Latins, but that possibility is made less likely by the fact that the omission creates noticeable inconsistencies in his narrative; the issue here may be variant traditions concerning the creation of the dictatorship, traditions which have not been properly reconciled in the literary sources.

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ship. In any case, even if Mamilius’ activities are retained as a part of the explanation, the basic theme that the harming of a woman, or in this instance women, leads to political change is still clearly present in Livy’s account. What lies behind these several stories, and others like them,173 is conceivably some early conception of historical plausibility, or some conception of the causes of political change. It is not impossible that such conceptions may be connected with traditional story-telling, or perhaps with early dramatic forms (if any distinction can be made between early drama and oral story-telling).174 However, historiography was a Greek invention, and the model which ultimately lies behind these several stories is again one which appears to owe its existence to Greek historiography, or one which can at least also be found in the works of Greek historians. Also Greek was the idea that momentous events such as changes in the constitution were often caused by ‘little things’. This idea can be found perhaps most explicitly in Aristotle, although it was certainly not confined to him. It is extremely significant therefore that this very same idea can be found in Roman tradition and thought as well. The story of Fabia Minor offers one example of a ‘little thing’ (for this is precisely what Livy deems it) which had a significant impact, the story of the abducted prostitutes another (again, this is Livy’s very judgement of it), and further examples can be found in Livy’s work and elsewhere too.175 The ‘little thing’ which causes great events appears to have become something of a topos, but the label topos is one which needs to be used with some care. If it is used dismissively, as it sometimes is, then it will merely mask the thinking which lies behind the decision to employ such topoi, and the thinking which caused such ideas to become topoi in the first place, and thus it will serve only to impede discussion of that thinking. The most obvious model, and certainly the most famous, for these several Roman stories, and that of Lucretia in particular, is of course the story of the Athenians Harmodius and Aristogeiton. Hipparchus, the son of Pisistratus, was said to have made advances on a certain Harmodius, just as Sextus Tarquinius, the son of Tarquinius Superbus, was said to have made advances on Lucretia. Harmodius was, however, the lover of Aristogeiton, and thus Hipparchus’ advances were inappropriate, just as were Sextus’, because Lucretia was married, and to Tarquinius Collatinus. Hipparchus was 173 For various other examples, see, e. g., Kraus (1991) 315; Moore (1993) 42–46; McClain (1998) 10–14; cf. also n. 177 below. 174 Purcell (2003) 25; see Wiseman (1979) 80 n. 29, 107 for the possibility that the story of Verginia may have been ‘a pre-existing ‘folk-tale’’; also n. 186 below. Note as well, in this context, the argument of von Ungern-Sternberg (1989). 175 Arist. Pol. 1303b17–1304a16 (1303b17: Gi/gnontai me\n ou]n ai9 sta/seij ou0 peri\ mikrw=n, a0ll’ e0k mikrw=n, stasia/zousi de\ peri\ mega/lwn); cf. also, e. g., Aesch. Cho. 204; Soph. OT 961; Plato Rep. 8.556e; Dem. Olynth. 2.9. Fabia Minor: Livy 6.34.5: parva, ut plerumque solet, rem ingentem moliundi causa intervenit; Dio fr. 29.2; the prostitutes: Livy 2.18.2: parvaque ex re; further instances: Livy 2.56.3 (albeit haud parva res; henceforth plebeian magistrates were elected in the comitia tributa), 4.8.5 (quamquam rem parvam; the creation of the censorship), 3.27.7, 7.2.4, 25.18.3, 27.9.1, 27.15.9, 30.34.1, 32.17.9, 34.1.1; Caes. B Civ. 1.21.2, 3.72.4; Cic. Phil. 5.26; Plin. Ep. 5.4.1; Tac. Ann. 4.32.2; Pub. Syr. 435. Cf. Dutoit (1946); Bayet (1962) 134–35; Alföldi (1965) 149–51; Kraus (1991) 322; Oakley (1997) 663; McClain (1998) 15–16.

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spurned, as was Sextus, and so he sought revenge by publicly casting aspersions on the virginity of Harmodius’ younger sister, just as Sextus threatened to ruin Lucretia’s reputation for chastity by accusing her of committing adultery and moreover of doing so with a slave. Hipparchus’ insult could not go unavenged; together Harmodius and Aristogeiton plotted to assassinate both Hipparchus and his brother Hippias and, in doing so, bring about an end to tyranny at Athens. Although the plot did not go according to plan, the ultimate result was, in the end, the expulsion of Hippias in 510, just as the ultimate result of Sextus’ rape of Lucretia was the expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus from Rome in that very same year.176 Numerous other tales, all similar in nature, if not in the details, to the story of Harmodius and Aristogeiton can be found elsewhere in the Greek tradition.177 It is also in this general context that the tale of Arruns of Clusium should probably be understood, although that story does not appear to have been treated as the cause of any political change. The story is, however, the first episode in the sequence of events which led up to the Gallic sack of Rome and as such it can certainly be taken as an example of a ‘little thing’ which caused great events.178 Furthermore, as it is the first episode in the events which led up to the Gallic sack of Rome, it can also readily be compared with those several stories (all rationalised myths) involving the abduction of women which Herodotus relates, stories which were used by some (but not Herodotus himself) to explain the origins of the conflict between the Greeks and the barbarians, a conflict which ultimately led to the Persian sack of Athens.179 The stories of Lucretia and Harmodius are both also connected with the stereotypical (and, note, Greek) presentation of the tyrant, lustful and abusive of his power,180 and it is likely that this is the original context for the basic idea that the abuse of a woman is a catalyst for political change. This basic idea has, however, clearly been adapted to fit other circumstances, for there is no tyrant figure as such in the story of Fabia Minor,181 there does not appear to have been one in the story of the Roman prostitutes, and it is most unlikely that there ever was one in the story of the rape of the Sabine women since, in that story, it was Romulus who organised 176 For the story of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, see Thuc. 6.54–59; Arist. Ath. Pol. 18; Arist. Pol. 1311a37–39; see, e. g., Poucet (2000) 274–78, with discussion of, and references to, earlier work. Herodotus’ story of Candaules and Gyges was also influential on the development and handling of the story of Lucretia; see the discussion in Schubert (1991). The story of the abducted prostitutes may also have had a Greek model, see Wiseman (2000) 298, who notes the similar story in Ar. Ach. 523–29. 177 Cf., e. g., Arist. Pol. 1303b17–1304a16; Plut. Mul. Vir. 26 (= Mor. 261e–262d); Plut. Cim. 6.4–6; Paus. 2.20.2, 8.47.6; Ath. 560b–f. Forsythe (2005) 147–48; Kraus (1991) 315 n. 5; Donaldson (1982) 7–8; Pais (1906) 186, 321 nn. 4–5. 178 For the tale of Arruns of Clusium, see sections 2 and 3 above. It is not certain if Polybius knew the story (see n. 7 above), but it may be significant that he says that the Gauls invaded on account of a ‘small pretext’ (2.17.3: e0k mikra=j profa/sewj). 179 Hdt. 1.1.1–5.2. 180 The Greek model of the tyrant was itself also employed by the Romans, again as a means of devising plausible narrative, in this case of the reign and expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus; cf., e. g., Ogilvie (1965) 195; Poucet (2000) esp. 250–55. 181 Kraus (1991) 320–21.

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the abduction. It is perhaps less likely that a spirit of rivalry with Greek tradition was the stimulus for the development of these several Roman stories, since none of them is especially prestigious. An alternative, and more likely, explanation for their development may be that the idea that a woman’s suffering, a ‘little thing’ according to the formula, leads to political change came to be accepted as a plausible explanation for such change, an explanation that was to be found not only in the writings of Greek historians, but in the writings of Greek philosophers too.182 If that hypothesis is correct, then the identity of the specific individual, or individuals, responsible for the fabrication of these various episodes becomes, in many respects, much less important; more important is the general attitude towards historical plausibility and causality which lies behind the development of such stories. Rather than being the work of just a single historian with a penchant for such tales, or the work of an unimaginative historian happy to repeat stories in order to flesh out his narrative, these several episodes may instead owe their development to certain generally accepted theories concerning historical cause and historical plausibility. The influence of such theories, especially if belief in them was widespread, may account much better for the repeated use of the same explanation for the various constitutional changes found in these several different episodes, and it may also account for the subsequent preservation and transmission of such tales. 7. CONCLUSIONS It has been argued that it was Fabius Pictor who wrote up the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome and styled it on the sack of Athens by the Persians, and it has been argued that it was Fabius Pictor who wrote up the tradition of the Fabii’s campaign against Veii and styled it on the heroic exploits of the Spartans at Thermopylae. It has further been argued that it was Fabius Pictor who claimed that the three hundred Fabii had been massacred on the same day as the Romans had been defeated by the Gauls in battle near the Allia. Finally, it has also been argued that Fabius Pictor invented the story of the two daughters of Fabius Ambustus.183 All this is perfectly 182 In many ways it matters little whether this is cast, as it sometimes is, as simply writing in the ‘Hellenistic’ or ‘tragic’ style, as, e. g., Alföldi (1965) 150: ‘If in the ensuing epoch of Hellenism such trivialities [see n. 175 above] are seized upon with preference by historians as the causes of violent changes in the public life, this was due to the fact that they followed from now on the entertaining features of the contemporary belles-lettres instead of applying high scientific and moral viewpoints’. There are several problems here: firstly, ‘trivialities’ were used as explanations in the Classical period too (see nn. 175, 176, and 177 above); secondly, those who applied anything close to ‘high scientific viewpoints’ (men such as Thucydides – although note Woodman [1988] 1–69 – and Polybius) were, throughout antiquity, the very rare exceptions rather than the rule; and finally, words like ‘scientific’ smack of modern ideas and ideals concerning historiography, rather than of ancient (on these last two points, cf., e. g., Wiseman [1979] 41– 53; Woodman [1988] passim). 183 E. g., Alföldi (1965) 148–49 (although Alföldi seems to be prepared to believe that the story may contain something historical, and that Pictor merely incorporated it into the tradition); cf., more

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possible, and the likely motivation for the fabrication of these several stories is clear enough (although it was not restricted to Fabius Pictor alone). However, Fabius Pictor is a very convenient peg upon which any number of hypotheses can be hung. His history has been lost, and so it is almost entirely impossible to argue that Pictor did not say anything in particular, that he did not write up the tradition of the Gallic sack of Rome, or the battle of Cremera, that he did not move that battle to a different date, that he did not invent the story of Fabia Minor, or even claim that the restoration of the consulship was ultimately the work of Fabius Ambustus. One major problem with this approach is, however, the fact that Pictor’s work was almost certainly short. Historians who wrote after him (and who therefore covered a longer period of time than he did, and so may well have needed to write at greater length in order to do so) produced only short works. Cato’s work, the Origines, was just seven books long, and two of those were dedicated to the origins of the cities of Italy; Cassius Hemina’s work was certainly four books long, although the existence of a fifth can reasonably be inferred; and Calpurnius Piso, whose narrative continued down to the second half of the second century BC, wrote only seven books.184 Furthermore, according to Dionysius of Halicarnassus,185 Pictor wrote in detail only about his own times and about the foundation of the city, but about the period after the foundation, he wrote only summarily. It is therefore inevitably risky to credit Fabius Pictor with such, or even any, extensive revision and reworking of the tradition of events, and especially of those events which took place in that very period which he is said to have covered only in a summary fashion. It is, in any case, simply unnecessary to hold Pictor (or indeed any one individual) responsible for every single pattern in the tradition, and then to suppose that subsequent historians simply repeated all those patterns, either mechanically or unwittingly. It is not impossible that it was some early Greek historian who first produced a narrative of the Gallic sack of Rome that drew heavily upon the story of the sack of Athens, but it is nonetheless quite clear that it was (also, or even entirely) the Romans themselves who developed the tradition of the Gallic sack, and who exploited the tradition of xerxes’ invasion of Greece, not only as a means of devising a plausible narrative of events, but also as a means of producing a history for their city that was every bit as glorious as Athens’. A similar situation may well have applied to the stories of Lucretia, Verginia, Fabia Minor and the abducted prostitutes, although those stories are scarcely glorious. What presumably lies behind them, and what presumably led to their development, was the simple notion (found both in Greek history and in Greek philosophy) that this sort of episode constituted a plausible explanation for constitutional recently, Dillery (2009) 85. It is worth comparing the story of Verginia, which underwent various changes and which may have originally been told without names (as in Diod. 12.24.2), see Ogilvie (1965) 477; Wiseman (1979) 107. Perhaps the Fabian element in the tale of Fabia Minor was simply the addition of names to a story that had likewise hitherto been told without them? 184 Cato: Nep. Cato 3.3; Hemina: e. g., Forsythe (2000) 5; Beck and Walter (2001) 242–43; Piso: fr. 36P = fr. 46 Forsythe = Censorinus DN 17.13. 185 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.6.2.

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change. Nor, it should be added, was it necessarily even an historian, or a Roman historian, who was responsible for every single one of these patterns or parallels; many of these episodes may have been first developed perhaps in the mid- to late fourth century BC, or in the early third, at a time, at any rate, long before the advent of literary historiography at Rome.186 The fairly widespread modern practice of attributing specific elements in the tradition to specific historians, while perfectly valid in itself, often tends to mask the general, unhistorical methods and unhistorical thinking that were common to most, if not all, of Rome’s historians. What individual Roman historians may have written, or did actually write, is obviously vitally important, but no less important are the standards to which those historians aspired, the manner in which they approached their work and the ways in which they thought about the past and about historiography (which was, after all, for them a genre of literature, and a genre of Greek literature at that). Before any individual historian is held responsible for this or that theme or detail in the tradition, it is absolutely essential that the ways in which the Romans thought about history and historical narrative are considered first. What may, at first sight, appear to be the invention of one specific historian may, in fact, ultimately be due not to that individual per se, but to some commonly held notion about cause, about what constitutes a plausible narrative, or about the ways in which people behave. A considerable amount has been written about whether or not individual historians could lie, and about whether or not they could invent. It has been demonstrated too (but not universally taken on board) that ancient views about what constituted a lie, an invention or a plausible narrative could be different from modern.187 It does, of course, take an effort of will not simply to assume that modern ideas about fiction, falsehood, invention, historical plausibility and viable and honest methods of reconstructing the past applied equally in antiquity, and not simply to assume that contemporary, Western ideas about all these things are cross-cultural universals. It is precisely because modern ideas and thinking are naturally taken for granted that it is all too easy to forget that they are modern, that they are the product of years of human labour and learning, just as ancient views were equally the product of human labour and learning – learning which was, of course, by modern standards, often flawed, and sometimes deeply so. If it was simply accepted that members of the same gens behave similarly, then what would count as invention and fabrication today may well have been deemed plausible and perfectly honest reconstruction in antiquity. If little events lead to major political developments, then such 186 Cf. Gabba (2000) 11–68; Purcell (2003) 24–26. Kraus (1991) 322 n. 32: ‘The story [of Fabia Minor] pre-dates the annalistic tradition, since its assumption that Licinius could not hold curule office contradicts the annalistic version (reflected in Livy’s narrative) that the consular tribunate was open to the plebs’; the story of Lucretia was presumably told by Fabius Pictor, cf. fr. 14P = FGrH 809 fr. 12 = fr. 17 Chassignet = Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.64.2–3, and Pictor is most unlikely to have invented it wholesale; see also n. 174 above. Note as well the possible significance of the events of 345 BC, on which see n. 32 above. 187 See the Introduction, and the various works cited in n. 4.

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events could have preceded any number of major political developments in Rome’s history. To claim that they had did not entail outright fabrication, but was rather just the logical implication of an accepted argument. If certain standards of suitability and plausibility had been established by Greek historians like Herodotus, then their works would have naturally constituted a valuable point of reference and also a source of plausible and suitable material. Moreover, if the past is little different from the present, and if people behave according to constant patterns, then why should history not repeat itself? And, if history does repeat itself, then why not draw upon the works of other historians, or even the events of the present, in order to reconstruct the events of the past?

EPILOGUE As the discussion in the first two chapters has shown, the Romans tended to notice, to draw attention to, and indeed (and perhaps more often) to devise parallels in behaviour, and especially in the behaviour of members of the same gens. Alongside this, certain types of people were readily believed by the Romans to have behaved in consistent ways. As the discussion in Chapter III has shown, similar types of events could also be supposed to have panned out similarly. Changes in the constitution may therefore have been due to similar circumstances, and events in Rome’s history might well recall events in the history of the Greeks. The causes of all this are several and different, but they are not at all unrelated, for they are all concerned with the ways in which the Romans thought about the past and the ways in which they tried to reconstruct it. Firstly, there is the manner in which Roman gentes presented themselves and sought to compete with one another. The achievements of the ancestors constituted important political capital, but what instilled special value into the memory of those achievements, and what made the memory of them so useful at the elections, was the belief that sons behave like their fathers and that members of the same gens tend to behave in the same way. These ideas about human behaviour influenced expectations, but not just the expectations of the voters, who were naturally concerned to know what a particular candidate for office would do if elected. These ideas also influenced those who were concerned to know what people had done in the past, and those who sought to construct a narrative of Rome’s history; these ideas inevitably and unavoidably influenced expectations about what particular individuals must have done, and so provided suitable criteria which allowed for the construction of a plausible narrative of events. If superbia was an inherent characteristic of the patrician Claudii, then early patrician Claudii must have behaved superbe; and if a Decius Mus played only a fleeting role in events, disappeared from the tradition, or participated in some famous victory then he may well have devoted himself during the course of battle; and if a Fabius saved the day, he probably did so by delaying. Secondly, since historiography was a Greek invention and was also a well established literary genre with its own rules and expectations by the time the Romans began to organise the traditions of their own history and later began to compose historiographical works of their own, it was perhaps unavoidable that Greek histories and Greek thought about history should have set the standard of what was acceptable, and what counted as appropriate and plausible. The result, it would appear, is that Greek history itself came to be used as a source of plausible models which could be, and clearly were, copied in various ways and with various degrees of fidelity. Similarly, Greek thought also appears to have set certain standards. If an act of violence committed against a woman leads to political change, then such acts must have been performed at least on some occasions of political change at Rome.

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If little events lead to great developments, then in Rome’s history too there must have been at least a few such little events. Finally, the issue of rivalry must not be overlooked. If Rome was a great city, as Athens had been, then naturally the achievements of the Romans should be comparable with those of the Athenians. If all this seems improbable today, that may only be because these ancient ideas and practices are being measured against modern standards of plausibility, and against modern ideas and expectations about the nature of history and the aims and ideals of historiography. But it is abundantly clear that what was considered in the Roman world to be a plausible parallel or repetition of events, to constitute plausible narrative, and to be appropriate to history could be quite different indeed from what is considered so today. It is necessary to do no more than look at what the literary tradition has to say about the early patrician Claudii to see that this was the case. The result of these differences in thinking is that the literary tradition of Rome simply cannot be treated as, in essence, a straightforward record of events, one which is (as is usually acknowledged) largely unhistorical for Rome’s earliest history, but one which becomes increasingly historical, and is almost entirely so from the events of the late fourth century onwards. Nevertheless, the tradition so often is treated in this very way and one result of this approach is that modern debate about the value of the literary tradition has tended to revolve around the – obviously still crucial – questions of the sources of information about the past that may have been available to Rome’s historians, and also about the extent to which Rome’s historians were able to invent and lie. While it is true that the amount of historical material to be found in the tradition and the tradition’s general reliability do increase, it must always be borne in mind that the thinking, standards, views, aims and criteria of ancient historians were usually very different, if not radically so, from those of a modern historian. The effects that these differences have had upon the literary tradition are most easily detected in the tradition of Rome’s earliest history, for it is here that the unhistorical and anachronistic nature of the ancients’ approach and thinking is most conspicuous. It cannot be assumed however (even though it sometimes seems to be) that the Romans’ approach changed as they began to deal with more recent events. If the effect that their different standards and ideas have had upon the tradition is less blatant and less easily detected in the accounts of more recent events, that is not evidence that their approach became more historical (by modern standards, that is) when they dealt with recent events, or that they thought, for instance, that the distant past was different from the more recent (quite the contrary!). It is only when they were less informed, as they were about the distant past, and so needed to fill gaps, to invent plausible narrative or plausible explanations for events, or to put flesh on whatever skeletal remains may have existed, that the differences in their views about what constitutes a plausible narrative or a plausible explanation can be seen so clearly. Nonetheless those differences in approach and thinking lie behind the entire tradition.

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INDEx Accius, L.: 22 and n. 22; 23 and n. 27; 26 n. 39 Acilii: 119 Acropolis: 130–36; 142; 151 Aediles: 41; 92; 100 and n. 228; 110 and n. 276 aedilis Etruriae: 147 n. 143 Aelius Paetus, P. (cos. 201): 34 Aelius Paetus, Sex. (cos. 198): 34 Aelius Tubero, Q. (historian): 30; 100 and n. 228; 101 n. 230; 111 n. 287 Aemilii: 17 and n. 2 Aemilius Mamercinus, C. (mil. tr. c. p. 394, 391): 116 Aemilius Mamercinus, M. (mil. tr. c. p. 391):116 Aemilius Mamercus, L. (cos. 484, 478, 473): 67; 68; 76; 106 Aemilius Mamercus, Ti. (cos. 470, 467): 78 Aemilius Paullus, L. (cos. 219, 216): 63 Aemilius Paullus, L. (cos. 182, 168): 41; 42 Aemilius Paullus, M. (cos. and mag. eq. 302): 89 Aemilius Regillus, M. (cos. candidate 214): 99 Aemilius Scaurus, M. (cos. 115): 50 n. 156 Aemylos: 17 n. 2 Aeneas: 17 and n. 2; 46 Aequi: 62; 67; 70 n. 72; 72; 84 and n. 144 Africa: 41 n. 121; 42; 52; 91; 96; 97 and n. 208 Aglaurus, sanctuary of: 132 Aigner Foresti, L.: 147 n. 144 Aimilios: 17 and n. 2; 18

Alban Lake: 107; 108 n. 263 Alban Mount: 34 Albinius, L.: 136 and n. 105 Alcibiades: 13 n. 11 Alföldi, A.: 30; 116 n. 7; 126 n. 63; 137 n. 108; 159 nn. 182, 183 Allia, battle of: 118–23; 135; 139 and n. 114; 140 and n. 117; 141; 142; 150; 151; 159 Allobroges: 111 Antium: 78 Antonius, C. (pr. 44): 23 Anxur: 79 Apennines: 117; 147 Apollo: 22 Apollonia: 92 and nn. 184, 185; 93 Appian: 37 and n. 103; 41 n. 121; 88 n. 170 Apronius, Cn. (aed. 267?): 92 Ardea: 122 Ardea, maid of: 155 n. 169; 156 n. 171 Aristagoras: 143; 144; 151 Aristides: 138 and n. 112 Aristogeiton: 157; 158 and n. 176 Aristotle: 127; 136; 137; 157 Arruns: 116 and n. 8; 117 and n. 9; 123; 124 and nn. 48, 51, 55; 125; 142; 143; 144; 151; 158 and n. 178 Artaphrenes: 143 Artemisium: 139 n. 114 Asia Minor: 37 and n. 100; 143; 145 n. 135 Astaphium: 45 Astin, A. E.: 41 Athena: 134; 135 Athenians: 130; 132; 133 and n. 93; 134; 135; 144; 151; 152; 157; 164 Athens: 14; 45; 130; 132 and nn. 87,

176

Index

90; 133–40; 142; 144; 149; 150; 151; 152; 158; 159; 160; 164 Atilius Regulus, M. (cos. 227, cos. suff. 217): 62 Attica: 135; 151 Auctor, de vir. ill.: 13 n. 12; 24 n. 30; 25 n. 38; 29; 77 n. 108; 82–83; 91 n. 182; 94; 96 n. 200; 99 n. 223; 103; 105; 154 n. 165 auctoritas: 48 Augur: 74 n. 95; 92 n. 183; 99; 102; 106 Augustine: 111 Augustus: 21 n. 12; 63; 147 and n. 143 Aurelius Cotta, C. (cos. 200): 34 Ausculum, battle of: 25; 26 and n. 40 Auspices: 68; 84; 86; 89; 106 and n. 250; 118; 121 n. 36; 134 Baebius Tamphilus, Cn. (pr. 199, cos. 182): 34 Beloch, K. J.: 26 n. 40 Billows, R.: 101 n. 231 Boii: 35 Brundisium: 92; 93 Caecilius Metellus, Q. (cos. 80): 42 Caecilius Metellus Scipio, Q. (cos. 52): 42 Caere: 121; 126; 127; 128; 130 Caligula: 46 Calpurnii: 17 Calpurnius Piso, Cn. (cos. 7): 46 n. 147 Calpurnius Piso, L. (historian): 100 n. 228; 160 Calpurnius Piso, L. (cos. 58): 39; 40 Calpus: 17 and n. 2; 18 Campania: 24; 59; 148 n. 148 Campanian cavalry: 98 Campus Martius: 67 Candaules: 124 n. 52; 158 n. 176 Cannae, battle of: 63 and n. 29; 84; 86 n. 160; 107; 108; 135 Capitol hill: 36; 37 and n. 103; 108; 120

n. 31; 121; 122; 123; 126–37; 139; 142 and n. 124; 151 Carinae: 131 n. 85 Carmenta, shrine of: 132 and n. 89; 142 Carthage: 41 and n. 122; 42 Carthaginians: 63 Carvilius Maximus, Sp. (aed. 299): 100 n. 228 Carvilius Maximus, Sp. (cos. 293, 272): 103 n. 237 Carvilius Maximus, Sp. (cos. 234, 228): 69 and n. 68 Cassius, C. (pr. 44): 22; 44 Cassius, Sp. (cos. 502, 493, 486): 44; 65 and n. 41; 66 and nn. 42, 45; 67 and n. 48; 71 and n. 75; 75; 115 Cassius Dio: 25; 37 n. 103; 87 nn. 163, 166; 89 n. 172; 92 Cassius Hemina, L.: 119; 120; 134 n. 95; 137; 160 Castor, temple of: 95–96 Cavalry: 72; 84; 85; 95; 96 and n. 200; 98 and n. 220 Celeres: 95; 96 n. 200 Censors: 79; 80 n. 119; 94 and n. 195; 95; 103; 112 n. 288; 157 n. 175 Chaplin, J. D.: 90 n. 177; 97 n. 213 Cicero: see Tullius Cicero, M. Ciminian Forest: 91 n. 181; 96 n. 207 Cincius Alimentus, L. (historian): 82 n. 137 Claudii: 19 and n. 6; 28–33; 36; 38; 48; 49 and n. 151; 52; 57; 58; 70; 102; 112; 163; 164 Claudius (emperor): 44; 147 and n. 143 Claudius, Ap. (cos. 495): 26; 27; 29; 66; 70 Claudius, Ap. (cos. 471, 451, decemvir): 27; 28 and nn. 53, 54; 29; 155 Claudius Caecus, Ap. (cos. 307, 296, cens. 312): 29 n. 64; 31; 44; 101 and n. 232; 102; 103; 112 n. 288 Claudius Crassus, Ap. (mil. tr. c. p. 424): 28

Index

Claudius Crassus, Ap. (mil. tr. c. p. 403, cos. 349): 28; 35 Claudius Marcellus, M. (cos. 222, 214, 210, 208, cos. suff. 215): 99; 102; 103 Claudius Marcellus, M. (cos. 196): 34 Clausus, Attus: see Claudius, Ap. (cos. 495) Cleomenes, King: 144; 152 Clitarchus: 13 Clusini: 88; 118; 124; 144; 151 Clusium: 88; 116; 118; 119; 123; 124; 125; 129; 139; 140; 142; 143; 144; 151; 152; 153 and n. 162; 158 and n. 178 cognomina: 17; 18 and n. 4; 21; 35 and n. 94; 36; 46; 64 and n. 34; 90; 94; 100 n. 228 Colline gate: 121 Combet Farnoux, B.: 80; 81 comitia centuriata: 53; 70; 99; 100; 101 (see also Elections) comitia tributa: 53; 157 n. 175 (see also Tribes) Concord, temple of: 79 concordia: 52; 62 n. 26; 66 n. 47; 76; 78 and n. 112; 79 and n. 117; 80; 81 and n. 128; 102; 154 constantia: 48 Consular tribunes: 28; 35; 41 n. 121; 79; 88; 116; 118; 119; 120; 121 and n. 36; 123; 124; 142; 154; 155; 161 n. 186 Consuls: 13 n. 12; 22–29; 34; 35 and n. 94; 36; 37; 41; 42; 43; 47; 50; 51 and n. 160; 58 and n. 3; 62; 63 and nn. 28, 29; 65–80; 82 and n. 132; 83; 84; 89; 92 n. 183; 94; 96; 97 and n. 209; 99–104; 106; 108; 109; 110; 111; 113 and n. 290; 119; 120; 142; 148; 149; 153 and n. 160; 154; 155; 160 contiones: 39; 40 Corinth: 135 n. 101 Cornelia: 111

177

Cornelii Scipiones: 41 and n. 121; 42; 52 Cornelius Arvina, A. (cos. 343, 332, dict. 322): 51 Cornelius Cethegus, C. (cos. 197): 34; 36 n. 95 Cornelius Cossus, Cn. (mil. tr. c. p. 406, 404, 401): 79 Cornelius Cossus, P. (mil. tr. c. p. 406): 79 Cornelius Gallus, C.: 21 n. 12 Cornelius Lentulus, L. (cos. 199): 34 Cornelius Lentulus, P. (cos. 71): 111 Cornelius Maluginensis, P. (mil. tr. c. p. 397, 390): 118 n. 19; 121 Cornelius Maluginensis, Ser. (cos. 485): 65; 66 Cornelius Merula, L. (cos. 193): 34 Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, P. (cos. 147, 134): 35 n. 94; 41 and nn. 120, 121, 122; 42 Cornelius Scipio Africanus, P. (cos. 205, 194): 34; 41; 91 and n. 181; 96; 97 and n. 208 Cornelius Scipio Hispanus, Cn. (pr. 139): 43 Cornelius Scipio Nasica, P. (pr. 93): 42 Cornell, T. J.: 10 n. 3; 38 n. 104; 49 n. 151; 51 n. 158; 124 n. 55; 128; 155 n. 167 Cremera, battle of: 77; 81; 82 and n. 134; 106; 107 n. 255; 108 and n. 265; 115; 119; 120 n. 28; 139 and n. 114; 140; 141 and n. 122; 142; 150; 151; 160 Curia: 86 (see also Senate) curia of the Salii: 134 curiae: 53 and n. 165; 156 Cybele, temple of: 142 decemviri: 28 and nn. 51, 54; 30 n. 69; 78 n. 114; 155 Decii Mures: 20; 26; 30; 33; 36; 38; 48; 52; 58; 163

178

Index

Decius Mus, P. (cos. 340): 24; 25 and n. 39; 26; 43 Decius Mus, P. (cos. 312, 308, 297, 295, cens. 304): 24; 25 and n. 39; 26; 43; 79; 80; 96; 97; 98; 101; 102; 103; 113 and n. 290 Decius Mus, P. (cos. 279): 25 and n. 38; 26 Decius Mus, P. (cos. suff. 265): 25 and n. 38 Delphi: 107; 108 and n. 263; 135 devotiones: 24; 25 and nn. 33, 39; 26 and n. 40; 98; 108; 113; 121 Dictators: 21; 27; 35; 36; 49 n. 152; 51; 59 and n. 4; 60; 61 and n. 21; 62; 66; 70; 80; 84–89; 100; 102; 106; 118; 120; 122; 123; 156 and n. 172 dies ater: 119 dies religiosi: 120 dignitas: 48 Diocles of Peparethus: 137; 138 n. 110 Diodorus: 29; 37 n. 103; 82 and n. 134; 88; 91; 109 n. 270; 117; 118; 119 and n. 25; 121 n. 36; 125; 126; 135; 136; 141; 143; 144; 145; 148; 149; 150 n. 152; 151 Dionysius of Halicarnassus: 13; 23; 29; 44 n. 134; 65–77; 78 n. 112; 81; 82; 106; 107; 108 n. 265; 116 and nn. 7, 8; 134 and n. 98; 138; 145; 152; 156 n. 172; 160 Dionysius I, tyrant of Syracuse: 125 and n. 61; 126 and nn. 62, 63; 129 Dionysus: 152 Dogs (on the Capitol): 135; 136 Domitius Ahenobarbus, Cn. (cos. 192): 34; 35 Domitius Calvinus, Cn. (aed. 299?): 100 n. 228 Duilii: 119 duoviri perduellionis: 66 duumviri aedi locandae: 109

Egypt: 21 n. 12 Elections: 28; 34; 35 n. 94; 39 and n. 108; 40; 41 and nn. 121, 122; 48; 50 and n. 157; 67 and n. 55; 68; 69; 70 and n. 72; 72; 75; 79; 80; 99–103; 140; 163 Elleporus River, battle of: 125 elogia: 43; 61 n. 20 Ennius: 63; 64; 69; 71 and n. 78; 77; 81 n. 128; 83; 128; 136; 137 Erechtheus, temple of: 134; 151 Etruscans: 24; 72 and n. 85; 73; 74 n. 95; 77; 97 and n. 209; 99; 116; 117 and n. 10; 122 n. 41; 140; 145 n. 135; 146; 148 n. 149; 149 and nn. 150, 151 Fabia Maior: 154 and nn. 164, 165 Fabia Minor: 154–58; 160 and n. 183; 161 n. 186 Fabii: 17; 18; 52; 58; 64; 66–70; 72–78; 80; 81; 82 and nn. 134, 137; 83 and n. 141; 90; 92 n. 183; 93 and n. 190; 96 n. 200; 98; 99; 100; 103; 105; 106; 107 and n. 255; 108; 110; 112; 115; 119 and n. 25; 122; 125 and n. 57; 137 and n. 108; 139; 140; 141 and n. 120; 142 and n. 124; 150–55; 159 Fabius (son of Hercules): 17 and n. 2; 18 Fabius (‘cos.’ 390): 119 Fabius (pontifex maximus in 390): 108; 121 Fabius, Q. (aed. 267?, to be equated with Q. Fabius Verrucosus?): 92; 93 Fabius Ambustus (ambassador to Delphi in 398): 107 Fabius Ambustus, C. (cos. 358): 108 Fabius Ambustus, K. (ambassador to Clusium 391, mil. tr. c. p. 404, 401, 395, 390): 118; 119; 120; 121; 124; 125; 129; 142; 144; 151; 153; 154 Fabius Ambustus, M. (father of ambas-

Index

sadors to Clusium): 88; 91; 118; 119; 154 Fabius Ambustus, M. (mil. tr. c. p. 381, 369, father of Fabiae): 79 and n. 118; 154 and nn. 165, 166; 155; 159; 160 Fabius Ambustus, M. (cos. 360, 356, 354): 86; 87 and n. 162; 91; 94 n. 192; 102 n. 233; 108; 109 and n. 271 Fabius Ambustus, N. (ambassador to Clusium 391, mil. tr. c. p. 406, 390): 79; 118; 120; 121; 124; 125; 129; 142; 144; 151; 153; 154 Fabius Ambustus, Q. (ambassador to Clusium 391, mil. tr. c. p. 390): 88; 91; 93; 118; 119; 120; 121 and n. 35; 124; 125; 129; 142; 144; 151; 153 and n. 162; 154 Fabius Dorsuo: 108 and n. 265; 120 and n. 32; 122; 128; 134 and n. 95; 136 Fabius Dorsuo, M. (cos. 345): 120 Fabius Gurges, Q. (cos. 292, 276, 265): 89 and nn. 171, 172; 90 n. 176; 91; 92 n. 183; 94 n. 192; 104; 110 Fabius Maximus, Q. (cos. 213): 81 n. 128; 91 and n. 179; 104 Fabius Pictor, Q. (ambassador to Delphi 216, historian): 13 and n. 9; 14; 30; 31; 62; 65 n. 41; 80; 81; 85 and n. 150; 91 n. 182; 95; 106 n. 249; 107 and n. 257; 108; 111 n. 284; 116 n. 7; 123; 128 and n. 74; 132 n. 90; 137 and n. 108; 138; 150; 152; 159 and n. 183; 160; 161 n. 186 Fabius Rullianus, Q. (cos. 322, 310, 308, 297, 295, cens. 304): 24; 50; 79 and n. 119; 80; 84–105; 109–113 Fabius Sanga, Q.: 111 Fabius Verrucosus, Q. (cos. 233, 228, 214, 209, cos. suff. 215, cens. 230, dict. 217): 57–64; 68; 69; 71 and nn. 78, 79; 73 and nn. 87, 88; 74; 76; 77; 79 n. 119; 81 and n. 128; 82; 83; 84; 87; 88; 91–97; 99–110; 112 Fabius Vibulanus, K. (father of K., M.

179

and Q. Fabius Vibulanus): 65 Fabius Vibulanus, K. (cos. 484, 481, 479): 65; 66; 67 and nn. 48, 55; 68; 70 and n. 72; 71 and n. 79; 72 and n. 83; 73 and n. 87; 75; 76; 77; 78; 81; 102 n. 233; 106 Fabius Vibulanus, M. (cos. 483, 480): 65; 66 n. 47; 68 and n. 63; 72; 73 and nn. 86, 88; 74 and nn. 93, 95; 75; 77; 78; 81; 104 Fabius Vibulanus, M. (cos. 457): 82 Fabius Vibulanus, N. (cos. 421, mil. tr. c. p. 415, 407): 84 and n. 144 Fabius Vibulanus, Q. (cos. 485, 482): 65; 66; 67; 70; 73; 74; 75; 78 Fabius Vibulanus, Q. (cos. 467, 465, 459, praef. urbi 462): 78 and n. 112; 79; 81; 82; 83 Fabius Vibulanus, Q. (cos. 423, mil. tr. c. p. 416, 414): 83 and n. 143 fasces: 28; 148; 149 fasti consulares: 11 n. 4; 49 n. 154; 51 n. 158 fasti triumphales: 11 n. 4; 49 and nn. 151, 154; 51 n. 160; 99 n. 223; 109 n. 271 Faunus: 152 February: 106; 139 n. 114 Feig Vishnia, R.: 91 n. 182; 92 n. 185; 93 and nn. 188, 189 flamen Quirinalis: 99; 121; 136 n. 105 Flaminius, C. (cos. 223, 217): 58 and n. 2; 59 and n. 5; 62; 63; 68; 69; 106; 109 Flavius, Cn. (aed. 304): 31 Florus: 29; 119 Folius, M. (pontifex maximus in 390): 108 n. 264; 121 Forsythe, G.: 25 n. 39; 125 n. 61 Fortune: 101; 109 Forum: 27; 28; 29; 39; 79; 96; 109 n. 271; 111 Forum of Augustus: 61 n. 20 Frontinus: 73

180

Index

frugalitas: 11 n. 6 Fugmann, J.: 29 n. 63; 105 n. 247 Fulvius Curvus, L. (cos. 322): 50 Fulvius Flaccus, Q. (dict. 210, cos. 237, 224, 212, 209): 100 Funeral speeches: 18; 39 and n. 106; 50; 51 and n. 159; 91 n. 179 Funerals: 39 and n. 106; 44; 46; 105 and n. 247 Furii: 34; 35; 36; 37; 47; 48; 52; 55 Furius, Agrippa (mil. tr. c. p. 391): 116 Furius, Sp. (cos. 481): 70 Furius Camillus, L. (cos. 349): 35 and n. 94; 36 Furius Camillus, L. (dict. 345): 120 Furius Camillus, L. (cos. 338, 325): 84 Furius Camillus, M. (dict. 396, 390, 389, 368, 367, mil. tr. c. p. 401, 398, 394, 386, 384, 381): 13 n. 11; 35; 120; 122; 123; 127; 128; 129; 136; 138 and n. 112; 144 Furius Medullinus, L. (cos. 413, 409, mil. tr. c. p. 407, 405, 398, 397, 395, 394, 391): 116 Furius Purpurio, L. (pr. 200, cos. 196): 33; 34; 36 and n. 95 Gaertner, J.: 138 Gaul: 34; 69; 99; 116 Gauls: 24; 25; 34; 35 and n. 90; 36; 37 and nn. 100, 103; 44 and nn. 133, 134; 47; 48; 52; 55; 88 and n. 170; 93; 96 n. 207; 97 and n. 209; 98; 99; 108; 115–44; 151; 152; 153; 158 n. 178; 159 Geese: 36; 122; 128 n. 71; 133 n. 92; 135 and n. 104 Gellius, Cn. (historian): 119; 120 gens: 17 and n. 1; 18 nn. 3, 5 Gold: 123; 127; 128 and n. 69; 129; 136 Gracchi: 65 and n. 39; 115 gravitas: 48 Gyges: 124 n. 52; 158 n. 176

Hadrian: 147 n. 143 Hannibal: 41; 58–64; 74; 84; 92 and nn. 182, 183; 96; 97 and n. 213; 99; 100; 103; 106; 108 n. 269 Hannibalic War: see Punic War, Second Harmodius: 157; 158 and n. 176 Harris, W. V.: 10 n. 3; 125 n. 57 haruspices: 24 Hellespont: 135; 151 Heraclides Ponticus: 137 and n. 109 Hercules: 17 Herodotus: 124; 132; 134; 135; 139; 141; 142; 143; 144; 148; 150; 158 and n. 176; 162 Hipparchus: 157; 158 Hippias: 152; 158 honestas: 11 n. 6 Horsfall, N.: 135 Humm, M.: 30; 31 Iapygia: 126 Icilii: 52 and n. 163 Ides: 119; 120 Iguvine tables: 148 n. 149 imagines: 39 and nn. 106, 107; 40; 41 and nn. 119, 120, 121; 43; 44; 46 and n. 147; 50; 51 Imbrinium: 85 Imperialism, Roman: 54 and n. 170; 55 interreges: 69 n. 65; 75 interregna: 70; 74 Ionian Cities: see Twelve Cities (of Ionia) Ionian revolt: 142; 143; 144; 149; 151 Ionians: 143; 144; 145 n. 135; 148; 151 Iulia Drusilla: 46 Iulii: 17 Iulius Caesar, C. (cos. 59, 48, 46, 45, 44): 21; 22 and n. 21; 23; 42; 44; 45; 51 n. 159; 57 Iulius Iullus, C. (cos. 482): 70 Iulus: 17 and n. 2; 18 Iunii Bruti: 23 and n. 26; 26; 30; 33; 48; 52

Index

Iunius Brutus, L. (cos. 509): 21; 22 and n. 20; 23 and n. 27; 33; 44 and n. 138; 45; 57; 87; 155 and n. 170 Iunius Brutus, M. (pr. 44): 22 and nn. 20, 21; 23; 30; 32; 33; 36; 38; 44 and n. 138; 45; 57; 58; 63 n. 31 Iunius Brutus Albinus, D. (procos. 44–43): 23 n. 28; 44 ius civile: 31 ius gentium: 142 July: 23; 106 and n. 254; 119; 120; 139; 140; 141 Juno Moneta, temple of: 120; 128 n. 70 Jupiter Victor, temple of: 98 Justin: 125 Kaeso: 119 Kings, Etruscan: 149 (see also lucumo) Kings, Roman: 21; 50 n. 157; 148; 152; 153 Kraus, C.: 155 Laetorius, C. (tr. pl. 471): 27; 29 and n. 61 Lake Regillus, battle of: 74 n. 96; 156 n. 172 Larcius, T. (dict. 501, cos. 501, 498): 156 and n. 172 Latins: 24; 44 and n. 134; 156 and n. 172 Law, Genucian: 101 n. 231 Law, Ogulnian: 31 Laws, Licinio-Sextian: 79; 154; 155 and n. 170 Legates: 62; 76; 86; 89; 94; 104; 156 Lendon, J. E.: 11 n. 4 Leonidas, King: 12 n. 7; 139 Levene, D. S.: 24 n. 30 Liber: 152 Libertas: 22 Licinius, P. (mil. tr. c. p. 400, 396): 41 n. 121 Licinius, Sp. (tr. pl. 481): 70

181

Licinius Macer, C. (historian): 9 and n. 1; 30; 47 n. 149; 79 n. 117; 100; 101 n. 230; 154 n. 165 Licinius Stolo, C. (tr. pl. 376–367, cos. 364/61): 79; 154 and n. 164; 155 Lictors: 99; 104; 148; 149 and n. 150; 154; 155 Ligurians: 35 lituus: 134 and n. 94; 151 Livii Drusi: 128 Livius, M. (cos. 302, pontifex): 25; 98 Livy: passim Lucan: 25; 128 Lucius (saviour of Rome): 127; 136 Lucretia: 21; 28 n. 54; 155 and nn. 168, 169; 157; 158 and n. 176; 160; 161 n. 186 Lucretius Flavus, L. (cos. 393, mil. tr. c. p. 391, 388, 383, 381): 116 Lucumo: 116 and n. 8; 117 and n. 9; 123; 124 and nn. 51, 55; 142; 143 lucumo: 123; 124 ludi Apollinares: 22; 23 Lupercalia: 106; 107 n. 255 luperci: 106; 107 n. 255 Macedonia: 43 Macrobius: 119; 120 Maelius, Sp.: 22 magistri equitum: 59; 60; 61 and nn. 20, 21; 62; 84–90; 95; 120 Mamercus: 17 and n. 2 Mamilius, Octavius: 156 and n. 172; 157 Manes: 24 Manlii: 37; 46; 47; 48; 52 Manlii Torquati: 36 n. 98 Manlius, Cn. (cos. 480): 72 n. 83; 73 and nn. 86, 91; 74 and nn. 93, 95 Manlius Capitolinus, Cn. (cos. 359, 357, mag. eq. 345): 120 Manlius Capitolinus, M. (cos. 392): 36; 37 and n. 103; 46; 120; 122; 128; 132; 133; 136 Manlius Torquatus, T. (cos. 165): 43; 44

182

Index

Manlius Torquatus Imperiosus, T. (cos. 347, 344, 340): 24; 25 n. 39; 36; 43; 44 and nn. 133, 134; 87 Manlius Vulso, Cn. (cos. 189): 37 and n. 100 Marcius Coriolanus, Cn.: 12; 13 and nn. 11, 12; 14; 152 Marcius Rutilus, C. (cos. 310): 80 Mardonius: 135 Marius, C. (cos. 107, 104, 103, 102, 101, 100, 86): 40 Mars, hut sacred to: 134; 151 Mars, temple of: 95 Mazzarino, S.: 139; 140; 150 Megistias of Acarnania: 141 Mens, temple of: 109 Mercenaries, Gallic: 124; 125 and n. 61; 126 n. 62; 129 Metapontum: 106 Metilius, M. (tr. pl. 217): 60 and nn. 16, 17; 69 n. 64 Miletus: 143; 151 Minucii: 52 Minucius Augurinus, L. (cos. 458): 62 and n. 25 Minucius Rufus, M. (cos. 221, mag. eq. 217): 59; 60 and nn. 15, 17; 61; 62; 64; 68; 76; 77; 87; 88; 91; 95; 106 Minucius Rufus, Q. (cos. 197): 34 Mommsen, Th.: 30; 77 n. 108; 116 n. 7; 119 mos maiorum: 46; 53 n. 166 Mother Earth: 22; 24 Mucius Scaevola, P.: 42; 52 Mucius Scaevola, Q.: 42; 52 Mummius, L. (cos. 146): 135 n. 101 Münzer, F.: 36 n. 95; 65; 66 n. 42; 82; 83; 92 n. 183; 102 n. 233; 110 n. 279; 111 n. 285 Naevius, Cn.: 32 n. 76 Naxos: 143 Nero: 46 New men: 40; 50 n. 156

Oakley, S. P.: 19 n. 6; 35 n. 94; 38 n. 104 Octavian: see Augustus Ogilvie, R. M.: 65 n. 41; 66 n. 47; 73 n. 88; 74 n. 96; 84; 106 n. 254; 107 n. 255; 115; 124; 135; 141 Olive tree of Athena: 134; 151 Olympus (mountain in Mysia): 37 Orosius: 89 n. 171; 97 n. 209; 111; 119; 140 Otacilius, T. (pr. 217, 214, cos. candidate 214): 99; 109 ovatio: 84 Ovid: 82; 107 n. 255 Pais, E.: 37 n. 100; 91 n. 181; 141 Palatine hill: 131 n. 85; 134 Pallottino, M.: 147 n. 145 Pan: 152 Panionium: 143 Papirius Cursor, L. (dict. 325, 310, cos. 326, 320, 319, 315, 313): 80; 84–90 Papirius Cursor, L. (cos. 293, 272): 100 n. 228; 103 n. 237 parentationes: 107 n. 255 Parthenon (of M. Iunius Brutus): 22 and n. 21 Patricians: 23 and n. 26; 26; 40 n. 110; 48; 50 n. 156; 52; 53; 66 and n. 47; 67; 69; 72; 73; 74; 75; 78; 96; 97 n. 213; 99; 102; 153 and n. 161; 154 Peloponnese: 148 Persia: 142; 144 Persians: 115; 130; 132–140; 143; 144; 149; 151; 152; 158; 159 Peter, H.: 30 Phronesium: 45 pietas: 48 Pinsent, J.: 82 n. 137 Pisistratids: 14 Pisistratus: 157 Plautus: 44; 45 Plays: 22; 23; 82; 157 Plebeians: 13; 20; 23; 26; 27; 28 and n.

Index

53; 29; 31; 41 n. 121; 48; 49; 52; 57; 66–70; 72; 73; 74; 75; 78 and n. 112; 79; 99; 100 n. 228; 102; 112; 121; 153; 154; 155; 157 n. 175 Pliny the Elder: 25; 94 n. 192; 116 n. 7; 137 n. 109 Plutarch: 13 n. 11; 22; 23; 25; 59; 60; 91 and n. 182; 92 n. 183; 94; 104; 105; 108 n. 269; 116; 117; 118; 121 and n. 36; 124; 127 and n. 66; 132 n. 87; 135; 137 and n. 109; 140; 143; 149 Polybius: 39; 61; 62 and n. 24; 63 n. 29; 94; 95; 97 and n. 209; 116 n. 7; 123; 125 and n. 61; 127; 128; 129; 135; 137; 150 n. 152; 158 n. 178; 159 n. 182 Pomilius, Numa: 17 and n. 2 Pomponius Atticus, T.: 12; 13; 22; 23 pontifex: 24; 25; 98; 106 pontifex maximus: 108; 121 Pontifical college: 31 Pontifical records: 30; 31 Pontificius, Ti. (tr. pl. 480): 70 and n. 74 Pontius Cominius: 122; 132 n. 87; 142 n. 124 populus Romanus: 13 and n. 12; 21; 27; 29; 35; 39; 40; 41 and n. 121; 42; 47; 48; 49 and n. 154; 50; 52; 60; 65–70; 72 and n. 83; 75; 86; 87; 88; 89; 99; 100; 101; 102; 104; 105; 109; 118; 119; 124; 127; 142; 144; 145; 151; 156 Porcius Cato, M. (cos. 195): 12 n. 7; 34; 116 n. 7; 160 Porcius Cato Uticensis, M.: 33 n. 77 Porsenna, King: 152 porta Carmentalis: 142 and n. 124 Posidonius: 23 and n. 27; 63 n. 31 Postumius Albinus, L. (cos. 234, 229, 215): 99 Postumius Albus, A. (dict. 499/96, cos. 496): 156 n. 172 praetor Etruriae XV populorum: 147

183

and nn. 143, 144, 145 Praetors: 22; 33; 34; 103 princeps senatus: 94 and n. 192 Proconsuls: 34; 89; 104 n. 242; 110 Prostitutes, Roman: 156 and n. 172; 157; 158 and n. 176; 160 provocatio: 27; 86 Ps.-Gracchus: 45 n. 141 Ps.-Marius: 45 n. 141 Punic War, Second: 41; 58–64; 73 n. 88; 76; 83; 84; 92 n. 182; 96; 97; 99; 100 Punic War, Third: 41; 42 Pyrrhus: 25 Pythagoras: 17 quaestio extraordinaria: 111 n. 284 Quaestors: 65 and n. 41; 66; 67; 71; 92; 93 Quinctii: 119 Quinctius, T. (cos. 471, 468, 465, 446, 443, 439): 27 Quinctius Cincinnatus, L. (cos. suff. 460, dict. 458): 62 and n. 25 Quinctius Flamininus, L. (cos. 192): 34; 35 Quintilian: 47 n. 149; 57; 115 n. 4 Quirinal hill: 122; 131 n. 85 Quirites: 156 Rabirius Postumus, C.: 42 Raimondi, M.: 100 n. 227 Ransom: see Gold Rasenna: 146 Remus: 137; 148 Rhegium: 125 Richard, J.-C.: 107 n. 255 Romulus: 26; 52; 53 and nn. 165, 166; 134 and n. 94; 137; 148; 151; 156; 158 Rostra: 86 Sabine Women: 52; 155; 156 and n. 171; 158 Sabines: 26; 156

184

Index

Salamis: 130; 141 n. 122 Sallust: 40 Samnites: 24; 60 n. 15; 85; 89; 95–99; 104; 110 Sardis: 142; 143; 144; 151 Saturio: 44 Scribonius Libo Drusus, M.: 46 sella curulis: 149 Sempronii: 52 Sempronius Atratinus, C. (cos. 423): 83; 84 and n. 144 Sempronius Gracchus, Ti. (cos. 215, 213): 99 Sempronius Longus, Ti. (cos. 218): 84 Sempronius Longus, Ti. (cos. 194): 34 Senate: 27; 33; 34; 45; 46 n. 147; 53; 58 n. 2; 60; 66; 67; 70; 74; 75; 77–81; 85; 86 n. 160; 88; 89; 107; 111; 118; 119; 122; 124; 141 Senators: 27; 44; 67; 68; 70; 72; 75; 78; 79; 80; 86; 87; 92; 93; 99; 100; 102; 119; 121; 127; 132 n. 87; 135 Sentinum, battle of: 24; 25; 26; 96 and n. 207; 97 and n. 213; 99; 102; 103; 113 Sergia: 111 Sergius Catilina, L.: 111 Servian Walls: 131; 132; 142; 153 Servilia: 22 Servilii: 52 Servilii Cascae: 44 Servilius, P. (cos. 495): 26; 29 n. 58 Servilius Ahala, C. (mag. eq. 439): 22; 44 Servilius Fidenas, Q. (mil. tr. c. p. 402, 398, 395, 390, 388, 386): 118 n. 19; 121 Servilius Geminus, Cn. (cos. 217): 62 Servius: 25; 82; 83; 110; 123; 124; 135 Servius Tullius, King: 131; 132; 153 Sextius, L. (tr. pl. 376–367, cos. 366): 79; 154; 155 Sibylline books: 59 Siccius, T. (legate 479): 76

Sicily: 96 Silius Italicus: 60 n. 15; 128 Silvanus: 152 Snake sacred to Athena: 135; 136 Sordi, M.: 116 n. 7; 126 n. 63; 128 n. 74; 132 n. 90; 135; 137; 150 Spain: 34; 41 n. 121 Sparta: 144 Spartans: 115; 139; 141; 151; 152; 159 Spies: 88; 118; 144; 151 Strabo: 126; 131 n. 85; 148 n. 148 Stratocles: 13 Stratophanes: 45 Suetonius: 29; 44; 46; 51 n. 159 Sulpicius, P. (cos. 279): 25 Sulpicius, Ser. (mil. tr. c. p. 377?, 376, 370, 368): 154 and n. 164 Sulpicius Camerinus, Ser. (cos. 393, mil. tr. c. p. 391): 116 Sulpicius Camerinus, Ser. (cos. 345): 120; 121 Sulpicius Longus, Q. (mil. tr. c. p. 390): 118 n. 19; 119; 120 and n. 31; 121 and n. 36 Sulpicius Rufus, Ser. (cos. 51): 50 n. 156 Symbolic capital: 51; 163 Syracuse: 126 n. 63 tabula Cortonensis: 145 and n. 137 Tacitus: 29 Tanaquil: 155 n. 169 Tarquinia: 145 Tarquinienses: 108; 109 and nn. 270, 271 Tarquinii: 14; 21; 28 and n. 54; 155 Tarquinius, Sextus: 157; 158 Tarquinius Collatinus, L. (cos. 509): 47; 155 and n. 170; 157 Tarquinius Superbus, L.: 21 and n. 14; 22; 23; 47; 152; 157; 158 and n. 180 Tatius, T.: 156 Terentilius Harsa, C. (tr. pl. 462): 78 Terentius Varro, C. (cos. 216): 60 n. 17;

Index

62 and n. 27; 63 and n. 29 Terentius Varro, M. (antiquarian): 86 n. 160; 128; 131 n. 85 Tertullian: 128 Themistocles: 12; 13 and nn. 9, 11, 12; 14; 130; 133 n. 93; 152 and n. 156 Theophrastus: 137 n. 109 Theopompus: 137 n. 109 Thermopylae: 12 n. 7; 115; 139 and n. 114; 141 and n. 122; 142; 150; 151; 159 Thrasybulus: 21 n. 12 Thucydides: 13; 159 n. 182 Thunder: 99 Tiber: 118; 122 Tiberius Nero: 29 Tiburtes: 109 n. 271 Ticinus, battle of: 58 Timaeus: 116 n. 7; 138 n. 110 tituli: 39 n. 107; 43; 50; 51 toga praetexta: 24; 149 Tolostobogii: 37 transvectio equitum: 95; 96 n. 200 Trasimene, battle of: 58 and n. 3; 68; 106 Treason: 46; 47; 65 Trebia, battle of: 58; 84 Tribes: 79; 94 Tribes (Romulean): 53 and n. 165; 156 Tribunes of the plebs: 27; 28; 29; 60; 66; 68; 69 and n. 64; 70; 75; 78; 79; 87; 88; 100; 101; 121 n. 35; 153 n. 162 Triumphs: 34; 35; 42; 49 and nn. 152, 154; 51 and n. 160; 74; 84; 85; 89; 97 n. 209; 99; 104; 109 n. 271; 123 triumviri agro dando: 78 Troy: 46; 130 n. 79; 138 Tullia: 155 n. 169 Tullius, Attius: 13 Tullius Cicero, M. (cos. 63): 12; 13; 22; 23; 25; 29; 39–44; 46 n. 147; 50 n. 156; 51 and n. 158; 63; 65 and n. 41; 66; 69 and n. 68; 96 n. 200; 128

185

Tullius Cicero, M. (filius): 43 Twelve Cities (of Etruria): 117 and n. 16; 143–49; 151 Twelve Cities (of Ionia): 143; 145; 147; 148; 149 and n. 151; 151 Twelve Tables: 133 Tyranny: 14; 21 and n. 12; 22; 26; 28 and n. 54; 44; 48; 52; 57; 123; 125; 129; 152; 158 and n. 180 Umbria: 97 Umbrians: 24; 97 and n. 209; 99 n. 223 Valerii: 9; 49 and n. 154; 52 Valerius, L. (quaes. 485, cos. 483, 470): 65; 66 nn. 42, 45; 68 n. 63; 71 and n. 77 Valerius, M’. (dict. 501?): 156 Valerius, M. (pontifex): 24 Valerius Antias: 9; 30 Valerius Flaccus, L. (cos. 195): 34 Valerius Maximus: 29; 43; 44; 66 n. 45; 85; 89 n. 171; 92 and n. 183; 93; 94; 103; 104; 105; 111 Valerius Maximus, M’. (dict. 494): 49 Valerius Maximus, M. (dict. 342, 302, cos. 348, 346, 343, 335, 300, cos. suff. 299): 37, 89; 90 Valerius Potitus, L. (mil. tr. c. p. 414, 406, 403, 401, 398, cos. 393, 392): 79 Valerius Publicola, P. (cos. suff. 509, cos. 508, 507, 504): 49 Valerius Volusus, M. (cos. 505): 49 Varro: see Terentius Varro, M. (antiquarian) Veientes: 70 n. 72; 76; 77; 152 Veii: 28; 70 n. 72; 77; 79; 81; 107; 115; 121; 122 and n. 41; 123; 126; 138 and n. 111; 139; 159 Venus, temple of: 110 Venus Erycina, temple of: 109 Verginia: 28 n. 54; 155 and nn. 168, 169; 157 n. 174; 160 and n. 183

186 Verginius, T. (cos. 479): 76 Verrius Flaccus, M.: 119; 120; 135 Veseris, battle of: 24; 25 and n. 33; 26 Vesta: 108; 127 Vesta, temple of: 134 n. 95 Vestal virgins: 70 n. 72; 121; 136 via Appia: 95 via Gabina: 123 Vipsanius Agrippa, M.: 21 n. 12 Virgil: 63; 64 n. 37; 123 virtus: 11 n. 6; 35; 37; 40; 43; 48; 94 Volsci: 27; 28; 29; 67; 68; 70 n. 72; 72; 79; 84 and n. 144 Volsinii: 145 Volumnius Flamma, L. (cos. 307, 296): 80; 102; 103 Vultures: 148; 149 n. 150 Walbank, F. W.: 94 Walsh, P. G.: 29 n. 67; 30 n. 69; 80

Index

Walt, S.: 90 n. 176 Wikander, Ö.: 18 n. 3 Williams, J. H. C.: 117 n. 9; 132 n. 87; 133 n. 94 Wiseman, T. P.: 11 n. 4; 25 n. 38; 30; 79 n. 117; 97 n. 213; 111 n. 287; 152; 153; 157 n. 174; 158 n. 176 Wolski, J.: 135 n. 101 Woodman, A. J.: 11 n. 4 World Wars, First and Second: 54 Xerxes: 134; 139 and n. 114; 142; 143; 144; 145; 149; 160 Zama, battle of: 41 zilaθ: 146 and n. 138 zilaθ meχl rasnal: 145; 146 and n. 139; 147 and n. 145 Zonaras: 25; 60 n. 15; 72 and n. 83; 89 and n. 172; 154 n. 164

historia

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einzelschriften

Herausgegeben von Kai Brodersen, Mortimer Chambers, Martin Jehne, François Paschoud und Aloys Winterling.

Franz Steiner Verlag

ISSN 0341–0056

191. Heinz Heinen Vom hellenistischen Osten zum römischen Westen Ausgewählte Schriften zur Alten Geschichte. Hg. von Andrea Binsfeld und Stefan Pfeiffer 2006. XXVIII, 553 S. mit Frontisp. und 34 Abb., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-08740-7 192. Itzhak F. Fikhman Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft im spätantiken Ägypten Kleine Schriften. Hg. von Andrea Jördens unter Mitarb. von Walter Sperling 2006. XVIII, 380 S. mit Frontisp. und 2 Farbktn., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-08876-3 193. Adalberto Giovannini Les relations entre états dans la Grèce antique Du temps d’Homère à l’intervention romaine (ca. 700–200 av. J.-C.) 2007. 445 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08953-1 194. Michael B. Charles Vegetius in Context Establishing the Date of the Epitoma Rei Militaris 2007. 205 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08989-0 195. Clemens Koehn Krieg – Diplomatie – Ideologie Zur Außenpolitik hellenistischer Mittelmeerstaaten 2007. 248 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08990-6 196. Kay Ehling Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der späten Seleukiden (164–63 v. Chr.) Vom Tode des Antiochos IV. bis zur Einrichtung der Provinz Syria unter Pompeius 2007. 306 S. mit 1 Kte. und 1 Falttaf. in einer Tasche, kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09035-3 197. Stephanie L. Larson Tales of Epic Ancestry



Boiotian Collective Identity in the Late Archaic and Early Classical Periods 2007. 238 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09028-5 198. Mogens Herman Hansen (Hg.) The Return of the Polis The Use and Meanings of the Word Polis in Archaic and Classical Sources (Papers from the Copenhagen Polis Centre 8) 2007. 276 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09054-4 199. Volker Grieb Hellenistische Demokratie Politische Organisation und Struktur in freien griechischen Poleis nach Alexander dem Großen 2008. 407 S., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-09063-6 200. Cristina Rosillo López La corruption à la fin de la République romaine (IIe–Ier s. av. J.-C.) Aspects politiques et financiers 2010. 276 S., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-09127-5 201. Manuel Tröster Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus The Construction of a Roman Aristocrat 2008. 206 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09124-4 202. David D. Phillips Avengers of Blood Homicide in Athenian Law and Custom from Draco to Demosthenes 2008. 279 S., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-09123-7 203. Vassiliki Pothou La place et le rôle de la digression dans l’œuvre de Thucydide 2009. 189 S., 2 Taf., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-09193-0 204. Iris Samotta Das Vorbild der Vergangenheit Geschichtsbild und Reformvorschläge

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This book explores how Roman ideas about human behaviour and historio­ graphy affected the ways in which the Romans wrote about their past. The first of the book’s three chapters considers Roman views concerning human behav­ iour and the impact that these had on the traditions of Rome’s past. The second looks at the presentation of the gens Fabia in the literary evidence and at the ways in­ dividual Fabii were said to have behaved. The final chapter examines the evidence for the Gallic sack of Rome and considers the influence that Greek historical tradi­ tions had on Rome’s own traditions. Nu­

merous members of the gens Fabia were said to have acted in a similar manner and even to have done the same things, while the tradition of the Gallic sack bears a striking resemblance to the tradition of the Persian sack of Athens. Scholarship usually maintains that individual histori­ ans such as Fabius Pictor were responsible for devising these sorts of parallels, and that they did so for their own literary and political purposes. The principal argu­ ment put forward here is that they are the inevitable product of Roman historical thought, and so need not be attributed to any one historian.

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isbn 978-3-515-10040-3