Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch's Life of Lucullus: The Construction of a Roman Aristocrat

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Manuel Tröster

Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus The Construction of a Roman Aristocrat

Geschichte Franz Steiner Verlag

Historia Einzelschriften – 201

Manuel Tröster Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus

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

HEFT 201

Manuel Tröster

Themes, Character, and Politics in Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus The Construction of a Roman Aristocrat

Franz Steiner Verlag Stuttgart 2008

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. ISBN 978-3-515-09124-4

Jede Verwertung des Werkes außerhalb der Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. Dies gilt insbesondere für Übersetzung, Nachdruck, Mikroverfilmung oder vergleichbare Verfahren sowie für die Speicherung in Datenverarbeitungsanlagen. © 2008 Franz Steiner Verlag, Stuttgart. Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Druck: Printservice Decker & Bokor, München Printed in Germany

CONTENTS Preface ................................................................................................................

7

1. Introduction .............................................................................................. Lucullus and His Late Republican Environment ....................................... Plutarch and the Parallel Lives ................................................................. The Pair of Cimon and Lucullus ................................................................ Sources and Traditions ................................................................................

9 11 14 18 22

2. Lucullus and Hellenism ........................................................................... Greek Paideia and Personal Restraint ........................................................ Philhellenism and Political Practice ........................................................... Hellenic Qualities and Biographical Characterisation .............................. Philhellenism Revisited: Image and Function ...........................................

27 28 33 40 44

3. Lucullus and Tryphê ................................................................................ Sobriety and Degeneration ......................................................................... Extravagance and Censure .......................................................................... Anecdotes and Propaganda ......................................................................... Lucullus and the Exempla Tradition .......................................................... Retirement from Politics? ........................................................................... Buildings and Misreadings .........................................................................

49 50 54 59 66 70 72

4. Lucullus and Roman Politics .................................................................. 77 Lucullus and Sulla ....................................................................................... 78 Lucullus and the ‘Sullan’ Oligarchy .......................................................... 82 Lucullus and Pompey .................................................................................. 87 Aristocrats and the Crowd .......................................................................... 93 Lucullus and the Multitude ......................................................................... 99 Ambition and Competition ......................................................................... 101 5. Lucullus and Military Leadership ......................................................... 105 Soldiers and Disobedience .......................................................................... 106 Leadership and Discipline .......................................................................... 109 Topoi and Contradictions ............................................................................ 113 Lucullus and the Common Soldier ............................................................. 120 6. Lucullus and Roman Foreign Relations ................................................ 127 Between Interstate and Interpersonal Relations ........................................ 128 The Quest for Power and Glory .................................................................. 137 The Shadow of Pompey .............................................................................. 143

6

Contents

7. Conclusion ................................................................................................. 149 Plutarch’s Reading of Lucullus’ Character ................................................ 149 Lucullus and the Late Republic .................................................................. 154 Bibliography ...................................................................................................... 161 Abbreviations ..................................................................................................... 191 General Index ..................................................................................................... 193 Index Locorum ................................................................................................... 199

PREFACE This book started life as a doctoral thesis submitted to Fachbereich III of Trier University in October 2006. The debts I have incurred during its long gestation period are many. Above all, I wish to thank my supervisor Heinz Heinen for his guidance, support, and encouragement until my final examination on 25 April 2007 and beyond. I am also most grateful to my second examiner John Patterson (Magdalene College, Cambridge), who offered insightful criticism and valuable suggestions on my thesis and many earlier drafts, and to Altay Cosçkun, who dedicated much time and energy to improving my work, thus helping to mitigate some of its shortcomings. Moreover, I am indebted to Tim Duff, Christopher Pelling, and Barbara Scardigli as well as to Luis Ballesteros Pastor, Paolo Desideri, Gustav Adolf Lehmann, and Brian McGing, who all made helpful comments on various drafts and papers that underlie the present work. Thanks are also due to Federicomaria Muccioli, to Delfim Ferreira Leão, and to many other members of the International Plutarch Society (IPS) for stimulating discussions about Plutarch and beyond. Furthermore, I am grateful to the Cusanuswerk, which provided me with financial and spiritual support over many years, and to Dorothy Thompson, who kindly organised two periods of study at Girton College, Cambridge. At Trier University, I benefited enormously from collaborating on the project ‘Roms auswärtige Freunde’, which forms part of the Sonderforschungsbereich ‘Fremdheit und Armut’ funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft. Last but not least, I wish to thank my parents Gerlinde and Herbert as well as my sister Andrea and my grandmother Elfriede for their love and generous assistance. Various aspects of this work have been treated in several articles: central ideas of chapters 2 and 3 have been discussed in a paper published in the proceedings of the 2002 IPS Conference at Nijmegen (Tröster 2005), while the acta of the 2005 Conference at Rethymno will contain a contribution on Lucullus’ struggle with the plêthos (Tröster forthcoming), which is dealt with in chapters 4 and 5. Much of the argument presented in chapter 3 can also be found in an Italian article published in Maia (Tröster 2004). Finally, parts of chapter 6 have appeared in a volume on ‘Roms auswärtige Freunde’, edited by Altay Cosçkun (Tröster 2005a). In all cases, the version submitted here tends to be more detailed except for the points specifically referred to in the notes. Trier, August 2007

M. T.

1. INTRODUCTION The political history of the late Roman Republic is commonly written as the history of great men.1 The Gracchi, Marius and Sulla, and, above all, Pompey and Caesar tend to dominate existing handbooks and many a specialised study on events and developments from 133 to 44.2 While other figures and forces are not necessarily left out of the picture, their rôle is all too often described primarily in terms of their relation to the aforementioned protagonists.3 Even if this focus has become less marked over the last decades owing to the diversification of the subject matter investigated by modern scholars and due to the multiplication of their approaches and interpretative patterns, much of their material and hence many of their hypotheses continue to be most intimately connected with those prominent politicians. In some ways, of course, this is inevitable since the majority of the literary sources relates historical events very closely to the careers of leading statesmen and generals – quite apart from the fact that a large proportion of the surviving texts were even written by those very protagonists. What is more, it is not in itself a bad thing to deal with great men; for individuals do influence history in an often decisive manner, after all, and their actions and ambitions must not be reduced to mere ‘character masks’.4 At the same time, their biographies serve to illustrate and help to understand broader historical processes, socio-cultural phenomena, and the interplay of norms, ideas, and identities. Beyond this, the careers of prominent individuals may be especially relevant to a period that marks the transition from a predominantly aristocratic polity to a monarchical régime. Still, the fact remains that the study of leading politicians continues to absorb a disproportionately large share of historians’ attention. Evidently, the present enquiry, focused as it is on a distinguished member of the Roman political élite, will do little to redress the balance. Granted, the figure 1 Particularly obvious examples covering the whole period from Romulus to Augustus are Hölkeskamp/ Stein-Hölkeskamp 2000 and Matyszak 2003, both of them apparently responding to current popular demand. Cf. also Bleicken 1995, 6: “Die Auflösung der Republik wird gleichsam durch die großen Gestalten der späten Republik verdeckt”. 2 All dates in this study are B.C. unless otherwise indicated. 3 In particular, this is characteristic of the prosopographical approach. Cf. – despite his explicit rejection of biography in favour of a study of the Roman governing class (pp. 7f.) – Syme 1939, with the review by Momigliano 1940, esp. 77f. = 1960, 410–413, and the references cited in chapter 4, n. 38. 4 On the fundamental problem of the interrelation between structure and personality cf., e.g., Schieder 1968, 157–194. Beyond anthropological considerations, the significance of individual political actors continues to be debated by social scientists. Cf. Byman/ Pollack 2001, who argue the case for the importance of the personal factor in a variety of historical contexts, with further references. Also note Tröster/ Cosçkun 2004, 497–499. For a rather positivist argument emphasising the rôle of the individual and the element of contingency in the history of the late Roman Republic cf. Brunt 1988a, 81–92.

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1. Introduction

of Lucullus does not play quite as prominent a rôle in the sources as the politicians mentioned above, and it may justly be argued that the consul of 74 has been neglected by the majority of scholars dealing with the final decades of the Republic. This latter point is undoubtedly important, and the author is confident that readers will accept it as a valid, though hardly sufficient, reason for producing the present study. However, it would be of rather limited value to compose yet another biography that essentially adopts the largely chronological framework shaping both the principal ancient sources and the existing modern treatments dedicated to Lucullus’ career. Readers wishing to follow the sequence of events related to this late Republican politician are bound to be disappointed by the present book, and will best be served by consulting the more traditional works by Villoresi (1939), Van Ooteghem (1959), and Keaveney (1992), whose strengths and weaknesses shall briefly be discussed in the latter half of the ensuing section. Despite being a study centred on an individual figure, the following investigation will be focusing on particular themes and problems rather than providing a comprehensive account of the course of Lucullus’ career. Chapters 2 and 3 shall be concerned with the topics of Hellenism and trufhv, which form the basis for most of the contrasting judgements of the consular’s personality as a cultured benefactor or leisure-loving hedonist respectively. Subsequently, chapters 4 to 6 shall address questions pertaining to his political and military activities, both at Rome and abroad, including his relationships with friends, enemies, and the multitude of citizens and soldiers. As themes, these issues play a central rôle in the most detailed and most influential source dealing with this Roman noble, namely Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus. No serious historical analysis can ignore the questions raised by the nature of this text, which eludes any simplistic classification in terms of literary genre. As problems, the topics of the present enquiry constitute the background to many of the public debates associated with the ‘crisis’ and transformation of the Republic. The material to be discussed in the following chapters has therefore not been arranged chronologically or according to the structure of any particular source. Instead, the above-mentioned issues shall be analysed in turn in order to foster a better understanding of Lucullus’ career, its late Republican context, and its representation in Plutarch’s Life. Inevitably, this approach means that the selection and conceptualisation of the relevant themes is highly subjective and falls short of covering either Lucullus’ lifetime or the Plutarchan biography systematically from beginning to end. However, this drawback may be outweighed by the advantages of offering a novel reading complementary to the familiar chronological framework of analysis, thus allowing to highlight the links between interrelated concepts and ideas that tend to be separated in more conventional accounts. Nevertheless, the present study is not designed merely to string together a variety of isolated observations on a limited range of particular issues; for all of the topics to be discussed make an essential contribution to the overall picture of Lucullus as an active and ambitious member of the first-century Roman nobility.

Lucullus and His Late Republican Environment

11

Lucullus and His Late Republican Environment In terms of the wealth of evidence, the final years of the Roman Republic are a good period to study. Thanks to Cicero and Caesar in particular, far more is known about the mid-first century than about most other epochs in antiquity. However, the documentation is rich only as far as a few people and their immediate environment are concerned, whereas the vast majority of the population, including the vast majority of the political and social élite, remains largely obscure. Lucullus is undoubtedly one of those whose career is exceptionally well documented, especially with regard to his campaigns in the war against Mithridates the Great, but even in his case there are quite a few major gaps which make it exceedingly difficult to reconstruct, for instance, his political activities in the early seventies or in the wake of his return from the East in 66. Not surprisingly, this uneven distribution of information is mirrored in modern biographies of Lucullus, which are generally structured in accordance with the framework of the only ancient biography available on this late Republican noble: Plutarch’s Lucullus. In some ways, the degree of dependence on the biographer from Chaeronea is even higher in the present enquiry with its focus on themes in that very narrative. However, this reflects a conscious choice and will, in the course of the following investigation, often inspire critical considerations regarding the reasons for Plutarch’s way of emphasising or marginalising certain aspects. Furthermore, in a study on particular themes and problems there will be no need, faute de mieux, to copy much of the biographer’s account in order to fill otherwise embarrassing chronological lacunae. At the same time, it will not be sufficient occasionally to draw on the parallel sources dealing with Lucullus’ career in order to supplement or to question, or simply better to understand Plutarch’s composition. In all of the ensuing chapters, a closer look at the consular’s late Republican environment will prove crucial as a way of contextualising his actions and objectives, thus making sense of their representation in the sources. Again, it is important to do so consciously. The centrality of this concern may further be underlined by considering the conceptual framework of a doctoral thesis on Lucullus’ early years (117–75) written by Günter Schütz little more than a decade ago; for his enquiry provides the most explicit and most radical formulation of some of the assumptions underlying the modern standard view of Lucullus as a ‘conservative’ politician. Deeming his argument basically uncontroversial, the German scholar suggests that the consul of 74, unlike the other Plutarchan heroes among his contemporaries, should be viewed as embodying the type of the late Republican noble par excellence.5 Of course, Lucullus was in many ways typical of the Roman élite of 5 Cf. Schütz 1994, 5–9: “Der Behauptung, daß Lucullus den Typ des spätrepublikanischen Nobilis schlechthin verkörpere, dürfte kaum widersprochen werden” (p. 5). He then goes on to call him a “system- und stilkonformen Vertreter der Nobilität” (Schütz’ emphasis), which he understands to mean “Paradeoptimat[...]” (p. 6).

12

1. Introduction

the first century, and the present study will attempt to demonstrate that in some respects he was even more ‘typical’ than the orthodox views on his extravagance and defective style of leadership would imply. However, Schütz’ proposition is problematic inasmuch as it is linked with a generic norm of ‘optimate’ behaviour which he seeks to define by simply excluding all comparatively well-documented careers except for Lucullus’ while lamenting that the material pertaining to the other individuals that conform to his supposed norm is too poor to allow detailed analysis. Yet it is difficult to see how a single politician, let alone a figure as prominent as Lucullus, can be employed to establish a paradigm for the senatorial aristocracy as a whole.6 As emerges most clearly in the sections covering political affairs in the main part of his thesis, Schütz actually fails to develop a cluster of standard behaviour on the basis of the evidence, but rather applies his undefended preconceptions about Lucullus’ belonging to the ‘conservative’ core of the nobility, and interprets his lacunose material accordingly.7 Most probably, a more conscious way of relating the data to the context of late Republican politics could have prevented so serious a conceptual flaw in an otherwise meticulous and exhaustive study. This introduction is not the place to enter into current debates on the political culture of the Roman Republic, which shall be dealt with in chapter 4. At this stage, it should suffice to say that a less rigid and more nuanced picture of public life and discourse in the first century will be called for not only in the context of Lucullus’ political and military activities but also with regard to the related issues of Hellenism and trufhv. At any rate, the reconstruction of ‘conservative’ or ‘optimate’ factions is too simple a procedure to account for the complex and volatile nature of Republican politics. The remainder of this section shall be dedicated to a brief review of modern scholarship on Lucullus.8 Matthias Gelzer’s contribution to the Pauly-Wissowa, published in 1926, continues to be a useful guide to the main sources and many of the problems posed by Lucullus’ career, though his style of presentation and some of his judgements are obviously rather dated.9 To a slightly lesser degree, this also applies to the monographic treatments by Marco Villoresi (1939) and Jules Van Ooteghem (1959), who both follow the ancient sources very closely and are generally reliable but offer little interpretation. The latter author in particular frequently cites various and sometimes contradictory views without expressing an opinion of his own. 6 However little is known about the majority of the political class, such a paradigm would have to consider both structural factors and aggregate data. Cf., e.g., Beck 2005 with a complex approach to career patterns in the middle Republic. On the hierarchy of the Senate and the influence of its junior members cf. Gruen 1974, 162–210; Bonnefond-Coudry 1989, 593–709; Ryan 1998. The potential of statistical methods is demonstrated by Hopkins/ Burton 1983. See chapter 4 at nn. 89ff. for a broader discussion of the political culture of Republican Rome. 7 Some fitting remarks about the pitfalls of the factional model (pp. 99–101) do not seem to affect his conclusions. On the substance of Schütz’ argument about Lucullus’ political activities in the seventies see chapter 4 at nn. 31ff. 8 A similar overview can be found in Schütz 1994, 1–3. 9 Cf., e.g., col. 413: “fehlte ihm [scil. Lucullus] das Heldische”.

Lucullus and His Late Republican Environment

13

On the other hand, the most recent comprehensive biography by Arthur Keaveney, which appeared in 1992, is richer in analysis but sometimes lacking in scholarly rigour. While the Irish historian usefully tries to relate Lucullus’ career to its late Republican environment, his regular willingness to identify with his subject serves to provide rather too sympathetic a view of the protagonist’s actions.10 By contrast, the aforementioned work by Günter Schütz is chiefly concerned with minor aspects relating to the early phase of Lucullus’ career until before his consulship in 74, which corresponds to a mere four chapters of Plutarch’s Life. Despite its conceptual shortcomings, the enquiry is mostly accurate and thorough in its argument on particular questions. Beyond these biographical treatments, the thriving of Plutarchan studies in the last two decades has produced two important commentaries on the pair of Cimon and Lucullus. Both contain detailed and excellent introductions, one written by Barbara Scardigli (1989, on the Lucullus), whose analysis is especially helpful with regard to Plutarch’s sources and his relation to the historical tradition, the other by Luigi Piccirilli (1990, on the pair), who is a specialist on the Greek rather than on the Roman protagonist, though. Further discussions include an article on the Lucullus submitted by Gerard Lavery in 1994 and several contributions on the proem to the Life of Cimon.11 Moreover, two other scholars have dealt with miscellaneous aspects of Lucullus’ career in recent years. Thomas Hillman, whose PhD thesis on the evolution of Pompey’s reputation between 83 and 59 appeared in 1989, published a number of papers on the relationship between Lucullus and Pompey and its function as a leitmotif in Plutarch. While the thesis is marked by a sometimes excessive reliance on the factional model of Roman politics, the relevant articles usefully serve to reconstruct the late Republican background to various pieces of information that are presented out of context by the ancient biographer. Apart from Hillman, Luis Ballesteros Pastor, building on a 1996 monograph on Mithridates Eupator, made valuable contributions to the understanding of contrasting aspects of Lucullus’ public image by investigating his campaigns, his association with luxury, and his desire to emulate Alexander the Great.12 In many ways, then, the ensuing chapters will, on a much broader basis, confirm and amplify the basic approach adopted by the latter two historians; for it is the political context of the themes and problems to be investigated that is at the heart of the present enquiry. At the same time, it will be necessary constantly to consider the nature and purpose of Plutarch’s biographical composition as the main source informing all modern accounts of Lucullus’ career.

10 Cf. the largely and perhaps excessively negative reviews by Gross-Albenhausen 1993; Rankov 1993. 11 See below at nn. 49ff. and chapter 2 at nn. 30ff. 12 All references can be found in the bibliography.

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1. Introduction

Plutarch and the Parallel Lives In one of the most widely cited passages from his Lives of famous Greeks and Romans, Plutarch insists that he is not writing Histories (iJstoriva") but Lives (bivou"). Quoting this phrase from the introduction to the Lives of Alexander and Caesar (1.2), legions of scholars have pointed out that the Plutarchan biographies must not be read as if they belonged to the genre of historiography.13 This is undoubtedly true and almost universally recognised in theory, even though many historians continue, in practice, to use or to criticise Plutarch according to what might be expected from a Thucydides.14 On the other hand, it is also true that the Lives are concerned with statesmen, i.e. with the usual protagonists of classical historiography. As a result, Plutarch’s treatment is often based on accounts written by historians who are time and again explicitly cited by the biographer himself.15 In fact, political and military aspects frequently constitute the essential focus of Plutarch’s characterisation, which is in many cases based on the protagonists’ style of leadership and their interaction with the common soldier or the people at large.16 Still, this ‘historiographical’ tendency is not always equally strong since it depends on the nature of the sources consulted and, above all, on the specific interests and intentions underlying the biographer’s composition in any given context. For rather than being a mere compiler or copyist of either contemporary accounts or later summary treatments, as many scholars used to think in the heyday of Quellenforschung, Plutarch can be seen to pursue various strategies to innovate on existing works and should generally be assumed to have adapted his material to suit his own purpose with utmost care.17 Furthermore, it would be misleading to suggest that the biographer rigidly followed an unchanging standard plan in the arrangement of the individual Lives.18 13 Cf., e.g., Ziegler 1964, 266–268; also Sonnabend 2002, 6f. and 165. On the significance of Alex. 1 cf. the detailed analysis in Duff 1999, 14–22 with further references. 14 On Plutarch’s shortcomings – from the historian’s point of view – cf., e.g., Gomme 1945, 54–61. Also note De Romilly 1988; Pelling 1992 for comparisons between Plutarch and Thucydides. 15 Cf. Wardman 1974, 1–10 and 153–161; also Theander 1951, 37–78; Homeyer 1963, 152– 157; Stadter 1965, 125–140; Scardigli 1995 passim. Formerly, scholars used to hypothesise biographical sources which were supposed to have been based only in part on the testimony of historians. Cf. Meyer 1899, 22–25, 65–71, and passim; Leo 1901, 154–177; Uxkull-Gyllenband 1927, esp. 91–99 and 110–112; Smith 1940; Hillard 1987, 21–34; contra Von WilamowitzMoellendorff 1926, 269–271; Gomme 1945, 81–84. Also note Barbu 1934, 47–86. For the practical aspects of Plutarch’s use of sources see the final section of this introduction. 16 On the relationship between the Plutarchan statesman and the multitude see chapter 4 at nn. 76ff. and chapter 5 at nn. 21ff. 17 For Plutarch’s way of responding to the narrative designs of his predecessors, especially in the Greek Lives, cf. Duff 1999, 21–30; Cooper 2004 passim. 18 Nevertheless, Russell 1966, 149–154 = 1995, 88–94 attempts to describe a “favoured structure” of the Lives. Further note the influential hypothesis advanced by Leo 1901, 178–192 on Plutarch’s Lives belonging to the type of Peripatetic biography.

Plutarch and the Parallel Lives

15

Notwithstanding, it is often puzzling to see that Plutarch can deal with divergent information in very different ways, sometimes perceptively applying criteria of historical criticism and at other times blatantly ignoring them as he prefers to rely on moral standards related to his conception of human character.19 While he tends to neglect chronological precision and often fails to grasp the significance of fundamental differences in the historical setting of his protagonists’ careers, he is nonetheless anxious to cite alternative versions on particular issues and at times even consults primary sources without, however, conducting any systematic research.20 Consequently, the purpose of the Lives cannot uniformly be defined, but rather oscillates between moralism, which can be of a “protreptic” or “descriptive” nature, on the one hand and political analysis on the other.21 Against this background, and in spite of Plutarch’s aforementioned statement at the beginning of the Alexander, the theoretical distinction between biography and historiography as literary genres tends to fade away and cannot rigorously be applied to the Lives.22 The tension between these conflicting tendencies emerges most clearly upon considering some more of the biographer’s programmatic statements. Following Plutarch’s remark about composing Lives rather than Histories, the introduction to the Alexander – Caesar goes on to compare the biographer’s work to that of a painter,23 declaring that the author will chiefly be paying attention to the signs of the soul (ta; th`" yuch`" shmei`a) (Alex. 1.3). Beyond this, various other statements underline Plutarch’s desire to focus on his heroes’ character (h\qo") and to present models to be emulated by himself and by his readers.24 At the same time, there are also passages in which the biographer shows himself to be aware of the problems involved in establishing the historical truth. Thus in the first chapter of the 19 Cf. Russell 1973, 55–62; Wardman 1974, 161–168; Pelling 1990, esp. 22–35/ 2002, 144– 152; Nikolaidis 1997. A more positive appraisal of Plutarch’s source criticism can be found in Barbu 1934, 134–149; Buckler 1993; Marsoner 1995/96, 31–46; Badian 2003. 20 Cf. Theander 1951, esp. 78–82; Buckler 1992; Desideri 1992a. 21 Cf. Pelling 1980, 135–139/ 2002, 102–107; idem 1986, 159–165/ 2002, 207–211; idem 1990, 29–35/ 2002, 148–152. For the categories of “protreptic” and “descriptive” moralism cf. idem 1995. 22 Cf. Wardman 1971; idem 1974, 1–10; Valgiglio 1987; idem 1991, 31–35; idem 1992, 3992–3998 and 4014; Gómez/ Mestre 1997; Hershbell 1997; Piccirilli 1998; again Duff 1999, 14–22; Wördemann 2002, 42–51; Cooper 2004, esp. 45–52; Späth 2005; also Mazzarino 1973, 136–138; pace Frazier 1996, 32–41, who minimises the ‘historiographical’ elements of the Lives and emphasises their moral and antiquarian tendencies instead. From a more general perspective on history and biography in ancient literature cf. Gentili/ Cerri 1983, 65–90; further Geiger 1985, 9–29 on the particular characteristics of political biography, but also note Momigliano 1993, 1, 12, and passim, who insists on the essential separation of the two genres; in addition Dihle 1987, 7–22. 23 For Plutarch’s use of this image cf. Hirsch-Luipold 2002, 41–118, esp. 41–50; Kaesser 2004; also Alexiou 2000, 110–117; Geiger 2000. 24 Depiction of character: Cim. 2.2–5, which is discussed in the next section; Nic. 1.5; also Pomp. 8.7; Dem. 11.7; Cat. Min. 24.1; 37.10; further Galb. 2.5. Imitation of exempla: Per. 1f.; Aem. 1.1–5; Demetr. 1.1–6; further Arat. 1. On some of these passages cf. Duff 1999, 22–51; also Stadter 1988, 283–295; Desideri 1989, 199–204.

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1. Introduction

Theseus – Romulus, he compares his work to that of a geographer approaching the margins of the known world and sets out to submit the mythic element (to; muqw`de") to reason (lovgw/), and to make it take on the appearance of history (iJstoriva" o[yin) (Thes. 1.5).25 Nowhere does the biographer advance to a more distant past than in the pair dedicated to the mythical founders of Athens and Rome, hence it is most appropriate that he takes the opportunity to talk about the difficulties of dealing with ancient history. Correspondingly, it is upon writing about Alexander and Caesar, whose careers are exceptionally rich in martial exploits, that Plutarch feels the need to explain that he does not intend to give exhaustive treatments of the protagonists’ political and military record. Rather than being isolated statements about the nature of the Lives as a series, the proems are therefore primarily meant to respond to the exigencies of the respective pairs.26 Moreover, they should not be misconstrued as ‘objective’ descriptions of aims and methods, but ought to be interpreted as elements of the author’s conscious self-presentation and discursive strategies.27 There is no doubt, then, that the introduction to the Cimon – Lucullus is of special significance to the present study, and it will therefore be discussed in more detail in the following section. While this enquiry is committed to gaining historical insights from the investigation of a particular Life rather than to exploring its meaning as a piece of didactic writing, it is obvious that a thorough understanding of the Plutarchan biographies cannot be attained by trying to eliminate or to ignore their moral content. For the according of praise and blame is absolutely central to the structure of the Lives, to their emphases, and to the judgements advanced therein. Consequently, it is of limited analytical value schematically to distinguish what Adolf Weizsäcker once termed “chronographical” from “eidological” elements or narrative from reflective sections.28 Generally speaking, the protagonists of the Lives emerge not so much as individual personalities, but rather as “integrated” characters with particular and fairly stable virtues and vices.29 Notwithstanding, Tim Duff has convincingly 25

Cf. also Lyc. 1.7; further Per. 13.16, which outlines different kinds of distortion in contemporary sources on the one hand and in accounts written long after the events described on the other. For the implications of Thes. 1 cf. Ampolo 1988, ix–xvii; Paratore 1993; Pelling 2002a. More generally on the relationship between myth and history cf. Bettalli 2003, 87–95 with further references. 26 Cf. Duff 1999, 13–51 passim; also Cooper 2004, 34–45; further the references cited below, n. 46, on the development of Plutarch’s objectives as the series progressed. 27 This point is rightly stressed by Zadorojnyi 2006, esp. 103. 28 Cf. Weizsäcker 1931, 2–9, and the influential critique by Ziegler 1964, 270f. However, also note the more promising approach adopted by Hillman 1994a, who analyses the Agesilaus – Pompeius on the basis of Plutarch’s authorial statements and their interrelation with the narrative; further the general remarks in Frazier 1996, 48–54. 29 Cf. Pelling 1988, esp. 257–263/ 2002, 283–288; idem 1990a, 224–244/ 2002, 307–321 with a definition of the term “integrated” character (pp. 235ff./ 315ff.), partly building on Gill 1983, esp. 472–481 (on Plutarch), who distinguishes a moral “character-viewpoint” from an empathetic “personality-viewpoint”, with the further theoretical elaboration and some modification in idem 1990, 1–9; idem 1996, 1–18, and with the observations in Pelling 2002, 321–329;

Plutarch and the Parallel Lives

17

argued that Plutarch’s moralism, disturbing though it may seem to some modern scholars, is often remarkably complex and challenging.30 In many cases, the biographer contemplates alternative judgements, sometimes presenting the same issues in different ways at different points in the narrative, and often adding new aspects in the concluding synkrisis. This practice should not rashly be dismissed as inconsistent or careless, but generally ought to be viewed as an intentional and meaningful way of inviting the reader to reconsider the moral questions involved.31 Another feature of Plutarch’s compositional technique – and one of special significance to the design of the present enquiry – is his way of pursuing certain themes and motifs like the ones to be analysed in the following chapters.32 These structural elements may concern certain of the protagonists’ characteristics or particular fields of action, or they may simply be based on accidental parallels in the development of their careers or in the prevailing circumstances. While they usually serve to structure the narrative of the respective pairs, they can also operate on the level of individual Lives or sections thereof, or be common to any number of biographies or syzygies.33 Evidently, the choice and representation of these themes is heavily influenced by Plutarch’s own experience as an author of the so-called Second Sophistic, as an adherent to the philosophy of Plato, and as a prominent member of the local aristocracy in imperial Greece.34 As Christopher Pelling has aptly observed, Plutarch strikes the reader as “a curiously varied writer”.35 To some extent, this certainly reflects his disparate source material, but most of all it seems to be a consequence of his multiple interests and of his complex and often changing intentions. At the same time, it may serve as a partial excuse for the frequent use of nebulous terms like ‘in many cases’ and ‘sometimes’ in the present section of this introduction. At any rate, it is highly problematic to make generalisations about Plutarch’s approach to biographical characterisation and about his way of dealing with historical evidence. Pelling and others have tried to categorise various techniques of re-elaborating source material, concluding that the author of the Lives is prepared to amplify, compress, and at times reinterpret information, but usually refrains from largescale fabrication.36 Still, this general finding can only serve as a rough guide for the present enquiry and will have to be tested throughout the following chapters. also Dihle 1956, 76–87; Frazier 1996, 76–93; pace Ingenkamp 1992, 4625–4631. Bucher-Isler 1972, 60f., 79–83, and 89–92 tends to overstate the point. Further note Bergen 1962, 66–94; Swain 1989; Lombardi 1997; Thome 1998 on the question of character change. 30 Cf. Duff 1999, 52–71. 31 Cf. Duff 1999, 257–286, who calls this phenomenon “closural dissonance”. 32 This is a central point in the numerous studies analysing the technique of synkrisis. See the next section with references. 33 The complexity of comparisons both within and between individual Lives is emphasised by Beck 2002, esp. 467–470. 34 Cf. generally Swain 1996, 135–186. Further literature shall be cited in the context of the individual themes. See esp. chapter 2 at nn. 74ff. 35 Pelling 1980, 139: “a curiously uneven writer”, with the modification in 2002, 107, as quoted in the text. 36 Cf. Pelling 1980; idem 1990, 35–43/ 2002, 152–156; also Larmour 1992, 4162–4174;

18

1. Introduction

The Pair of Cimon and Lucullus The pair structure, as indicated above, must be regarded as one of the crucial features of Plutarch’s Lives. While the often considerable historical gap between the Greek and Roman protagonists continues to induce modern scholars to ignore the respective parallel biography, a great many studies on the various syzygies have demonstrated that “no Life can be anywhere near fully understood without reference to its partner”.37 Following the publication of Hartmut Erbse’s seminal article on the pairs of Cicero – Demosthenes and Dion – Brutus a half-century ago,38 classicists have come to realise that the technique of synkrisis is by no means confined to the formal proems and comparisons, which commonly form the framework of the pairs, but actually serves to shape the biographical composition as a whole.39 Beyond the two protagonists, moreover, it ought to be noted that the practice of drawing comparisons regularly involves secondary actors and foils as well.40 Yet again, Plutarch’s approach is not uniform, and the significance of the comparative element in fact varies greatly among the Lives; for neither are his parallels always equally compelling, nor does the biographer consistently exploit analogies wherever possible.41 However, this insight should not be invoked as a pretext for neglecting the Greek pair in the present enquiry. As shall emerge from the ensuing chapters, consideration of the Cimon often adds an important perspective to the interpretation of particular features in the Lucullus. In theory, this should also work vice versa, of course, but a thorough analysis of Cimon’s career in fifth-century Athens is beyond the confines of this study. Nevertheless, a few general observations regarding Lucullus’ Greek pair ought to be made at the end of the present section. The Lives of Cimon and Lucullus seem to be one of the first pairs to have been written by Plutarch; for the Cimon is cited both in the Theseus (36.2) and in the Pericles (9.5), the latter being explicitly introduced as the tenth pair of the series (Per. 2.5). Further investigation of the biographer’s cross-references suggests that the Cimon – Lucullus should occupy one of the places between two and four,

Frazier 1996, 17–32, 43–46 and passim. Further see the last section of this introduction on the process of writing. 37 Cf. Larmour 1992, quotation 41569, who provides a useful review of earlier work, and the selected references in the following notes. Further studies are listed in Duff 1999, 25025. The Cimon – Lucullus has so far attracted relatively little attention, but note the sketches in Fuscagni 1989, 43–52; Stadter 1997, 70–75, both focusing on pra/ovth" and related qualities; also Larmour 2000, 269–271 on the use of metaphors in the syzygy. 38 Cf. Erbse 1956. 39 Nikolaidis 2005, 316f. and passim argues that most of the Lives were only paired at a fairly late stage of the composition process, yet this is unconvincing to the extent that he seeks to downplay the importance of the comparative element. For the pairing of Cimon and Lucullus see also below at n. 45. 40 Cf. generally Bucher-Isler 1972, 62–68; Frazier 1996, 64–67. 41 Cf. Pelling 1986a, 83f./ 2002, 349f., with his second thoughts in 2002, 359–361.

The Pair of Cimon and Lucullus

19

with the majority of scholars deeming the third book most likely.42 This certainly has a number of important implications. Firstly, Plutarch had fairly little experience with his biographical project by the time he was composing the pair in question. In many ways, he was presumably still experimenting – an assumption that is corroborated by the fact that the later Lives tend to be longer and more complex than the earlier ones, with the Cimon being exceptionally short. As Pelling has convincingly argued, moreover, the Lucullus – as well as the Cicero – was apparently written before the biographer discovered a major source on the final years of the Republic which guided him in a number of other Lives including the Pompeius.43 Secondly, early composition underlines the importance Plutarch attached to the Lucullus in particular. Among the first Lives he composed, the lost Epaminondas as well as the Pelopidas are conspicuous for the protagonists’ connexion with the biographer’s native Boeotia. Lucullus, too, was related to Plutarch’s home region as a benefactor of Chaeronea, as is revealed in the first two chapters of the Cimon, which shall be considered below.44 Furthermore, it is clear that in this case the biographer chose the Roman hero first before going on to look for a suitable Greek pair (Cim. 3.1).45 One may suspect that Plutarch still had a wide range of options upon deciding to link together Cimon and Lucullus, yet it is unknown to what extent he had devised an overall plan fixing at least some of the pairs when the project was launched in the first place.46 As for the significance of the Cimon for a fuller understanding of the Lucullus, the relevant points shall be integrated into the discussion of the Plutarchan themes to be analysed in the ensuing chapters, especially in chapter 2 on Hellen-

42

Cf. the list drawn up by Jones 1966, 67f. = 1995, 108–111. Also note the earlier studies on the significance of the cross-references by Mewaldt 1907 and Stoltz 1929, with the reply by Mewaldt 1930. Cf. Nikolaidis 2005 for further discussion and up-to-date bibliography. Contrary to the standard view, García Moreno 2005, 229f. speculates that the Lucullus was composed as one of the later Lives after Plutarch had got access to a Greek translation of Sallust’s Histories, but this is neither plausible nor persuasive. 43 Cf. Pelling 1979, and see chapter 4 at n. 66 for more on this hypothesis. 44 For local interests as a factor in Plutarch’s choice of heroes cf. Geiger 1981, 87 = 1995, 167f. 45 While Nikolaidis 2005, 311 and 317 surmises that this was Plutarch’s usual procedure, Desideri 1992, 4479f. considers the Cimon – Lucullus to be exceptional inasmuch as the protagonists “si sono generati separatamente e sono stati poi accostati più per rispettare un principio compositivo ormai consolidato che per vera convinzione di ‘parallelismo’” (p. 4480). This judgement seems to underestimate not only the degree to which the two Lives are interwoven but also the biographer’s ability purposefully to employ the parallel structure as a means of furthering his interpretation. 46 A more or less comprehensive plan is assumed by Steidle 1990, esp. 163–169, who insists on the unity of the late Republican Lives in particular. However, Plut. Aem. 1.1, taken at face value, would imply that the series was extended far beyond the scope envisaged at the beginning. The gradual development of the Lives is outlined by Sirinelli 2000, 302–320; more schematically Delvaux 1995; Nikolaidis 2005, 297–316. Further note the comments on Steidle’s thesis in Pelling 2002, 26–28.

20

1. Introduction

ism.47 This shall include consideration of the two sections in which the biographer compares his two heroes directly, viz. the third chapter of the Cimon and the formal synkrisis at the end of the Lucullus. For the main items mentioned there: military achievements, lifestyle, and leadership qualities are evidently covered by the agenda of the present enquiry. In spite of their being different in emphasis from the rest of the syzygy, moreover, it is important to read these chapters as essential parts of the pair rather than as mere summaries or as isolated and artificial addenda.48 The same undoubtedly applies to the first two chapters of the Cimon, which deal with events in Plutarch’s native Chaeronea at the time of the Mithridatic Wars and record Lucullus’ testimony in favour of the town in a lawsuit before the governor involving the murder of Roman soldiers. While the episode itself serves to establish the theme of Hellenism and shall be considered in chapter 2,49 the following observations by Plutarch (Cim. 2.2–5) obviously transcend the limits of any particular leitmotif and shall be discussed right here on account of their eminent significance for the whole of the pair. Having expressed his enduring gratitude for the benefactions which earned Lucullus a marble statue in the town’s market-place, the biographer announces that he is going to produce a portrait revealing character and disposition (to; h\qo" kai; to;n trovpon) in return for the favour shown by his Roman hero. This remark closely resembles several other programmatic statements on the main purpose of biographical writing, as has been indicated in the preceding section.50 After that, Plutarch hints at the implications of his personal connexion with Lucullus for the ensuing account, insisting that he is going to relate the protagonists’ deeds according to the truth (tajlhqh`). “For the favour of remembrance”, he continues, “is sufficient; and as a return for his truthful testimony he himself surely would not deign to accept a false and garbled narrative of his life”.51 Immediately afterwards, however, Plutarch inserts a comparison – similar to the one in the Alexander (1.3) – likening his work to that of a painter, and goes on to declare that “in its fair chapters we must round out the truth into fullest semblance; but those errors and defects which affect human actions owing to some passion or political necessity we must regard rather as shortcomings in some particular excellence than as wicked acts of evil, and we must not delineate them in our history (th/` iJstoriva/) with excessive zeal and emphasis, but treat them as though we were standing in awe of human nature for producing no character which is absolutely good and indisputably set towards virtue”.52 Consequently, a certain ambiguity results from the introduction to the Cimon – Lucullus: while 47

See chapter 2 at nn. 65ff. The authenticity of the synkriseis is no longer controversial since the publication of Stiefenhofer 1916. As indicated above, moreover, note Duff 1999, 257–286 for their challenging nature. 49 See chapter 2 at nn. 30ff. 50 See above at n. 24. 51 Translations are adapted from the Loeb Classical Library unless otherwise indicated. 52 On the problem of representing good and bad traits see chapter 7 at nn. 6ff. 48

The Pair of Cimon and Lucullus

21

respect for the truth is explicitly set out as one of the biographer’s guiding principles, other factors like his familiar desire to focus on the protagonist’s h\qo" and, above all, his wish to thank Lucullus as a benefactor of his home town appear to qualify Plutarch’s commitment to give a historically accurate account. As Christian Kaesser has suggested, the comparison to the visual arts may imply the idea of ‘adding’ to the point of distorting reality,53 yet it is clear that the tension between the biographer’s multiple objectives cannot be resolved simply by looking at this carefully crafted proem. In fact, modern scholars have variously chosen to cite it as evidence for Plutarch’s fundamental bias in favour of his Roman hero or for his readiness to deal with Lucullus’ defects in spite of his openly declared gratitude.54 In the ensuing chapters, it shall be seen that no simple answer to this question can be given, though the latter view may be closer to Plutarch’s practice inasmuch as he does not conceal negative features, such as the protagonist’s luxurious lifestyle, while emphasising, but by no means inventing, positive traits like Lucullus’ philhellenic leanings. As indicated above, the biographer purposefully chose Cimon as the Greek politician most suitable for a comparison with the Roman benefactor of Chaeronea. Consequently, it should be possible to deduce the main reasons for this decision by looking at the major features of the Athenian statesman in Plutarch’s narrative. Throughout the Life, Cimon emerges as the pan-Hellenic champion of Greek civilisation in the fight against Persia, culminating in the victorious battle of the Eurymedon (Cim. 12.5–13.4). Even as the rivalry between Athens and Sparta becomes the determining factor in the regional balance of power, he seeks to maintain friendly relations with the Lacedaemonians and thus to preserve the unity of the Greeks (Cim. 16.1–3; 16.9f.). Domestically, Cimon is represented as consistently defending the aristocratic form of government against the democratic agenda pursued by the reformers around Pericles and Ephialtes (Cim. 10.8; 15.1–3). In the following chapters, it shall be seen that all of these elements as well as the protagonist’s debauchery (Cim. 4.4–10; 15.3–5) are most relevant to the Lucullus with its focus on extravagance, Hellenic culture, and the problem of political and military leadership. Just like in the case of Lucullus, moreover, Plutarch is by far the most detailed of the extant sources dealing with Cimon’s career. While Thucydides fails to pay much attention to the victor of the Eurymedon battle in his summary treatment of the fifty-year period preceding the Peloponnesian War (Thuk. 1.89–117), most of the remaining material is merely fragmentary and in many instances only transmitted by Plutarch himself.55 Not surprisingly, therefore, the biographer’s narrative has had a tremendous impact on the image of Cimon in modern scholarship, even though a number of fundamental issues related to the elusive chronology of the Pentecontaetia remain highly controversial.56 53

Cf. Kaesser 2004, esp. 366–374. See the discussion in chapter 7 with the references cited in nn. 3ff. 55 On these sources cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 1999, 149–156; also Lombardo 1934, 143–170. 56 This includes the circumstances of the Messenian revolt of the 460s, Cimon’s return from 54

22

1. Introduction

Most interestingly, however, the orthodox view of Cimon as an anti-Persian, pro-Spartan proponent of aristocratic government has come under attack in recent years. Contrary to this interpretation, Elke Stein-Hölkeskamp and others have underlined the politician’s commitment to Athenian rather than pan-Hellenic interests while questioning his rôle as leader of the noble and wealthy (thus Arist. Ath. pol. 26.1–28.2) and stressing the significance of his interaction with the people at large.57 What is more, the German historian has pointed out that Plutarch’s account seems to involve substantial reinterpretation of elements rooted in the political conflicts of the Pentecontaetia and, to a considerable extent, in Cimon’s public self-image.58 Whether or not this revision will turn out to be successful, there are obvious parallels to the approach adopted in the present study, which similarly focuses on the biographer’s themes and stereotypes and also emphasises the importance of contemporary propaganda – not in fifth-century Athens, though, but in late Republican Rome.

Sources and Traditions Quellenforschung, which once dominated Plutarchan studies, nowadays tends to arouse little enthusiasm among classicists.59 Owing to the excesses of the past when scholars indulged in dismissing extant works as lacking in originality in order to speculate about sources that may never have existed, it has largely been relegated to the margins of research agendas. Notwithstanding, its basic idea continues to be important, not in the sense of idle name-dropping, but as a way of assessing the nature of the material available to Plutarch, or indeed to any other ancient writer, and of understanding the origins and nuances of his judgements. Evidently, this set of questions is directly linked with the biographer’s method of collecting information and of using it at the moment of writing.60 Generally speaking, the Lives, especially the Greek ones, are conspicuous for their wealth of references. Although Plutarch should not be assumed to have consulted all of the works he cites at first hand, his reading must have been remarkably wide, and there are also authors he does not mention yet has read.61 exile, and of course the Peace of Callias. Cf., among many others, Deane 1972; Badian 1993; also Heideking 1975 with a detailed survey of earlier work; further Schreiner 1997, who offers a very different, ‘anti-Thucydidean’ reconstruction, with the critical review by Rhodes 2001. For a traditional interpretation of Cimon’s career cf., e.g., Blumfeldner 1952, 195–219; also Bengtson 1983, 94–108. 57 Cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 1999; also eadem 1999a, partly building on Steinbrecher 1985, esp. 155–163. Many of the points regarding domestic politics can already be found in Musti 1984. 58 Cf. Stein-Hölkeskamp 1999, esp. 155f. and 160–164. On Cimon’s self-presentation cf. also eadem 1989, 212–218; further Delvoye 1975. 59 Cf. the references cited above, n. 15, and note the fitting remarks in Van der Stockt 1999, 575f.; idem 2004, 331–333. 60 Cf. for the following Pelling 1979, 83–96/ 2002, 11–26. 61 On the question of direct usage cf. the survey in Delvaux 1988, who himself holds the

Sources and Traditions

23

During the process of writing, or of composing drafts (uJpomnhvmata) for the finished versions, he usually appears to have kept a single work before his eyes, which could obviously be replaced when appropriate, but he also relied extensively on his memory and may have drawn on additional notes containing miscellaneous items.62 In the light of the argument presented in the preceding section, it should be clear that Plutarch’s use of a single guiding source does not imply that he merely copied or summarised its contents without shaping the narrative according to his own interpretation. Nevertheless, the significance of the material underlying his work is mirrored not only in the number of authorities he cites explicitly, but also in the frequent insertion of generic expressions like levgetai or fasivn.63 While most of Plutarch’s sources were undoubtedly Greek, the Roman biographies also refer to plenty of Latin authors. According to his own rather modest declaration in the Demosthenes (2.2–4), and judging from occasional errors that seem to reflect misunderstandings, the author of the Lives did use Latin sources at first hand, and had an adequate reading knowledge of the language. Presumably, he also benefited from discussions with his Roman friends and asked them for guidance regarding sources and literature.64 Latin material certainly figures prominently in the Lucullus, which explicitly refers to both Sallust (Luc. 11.6; 33.3) and Livy (Luc. 28.8; 31.9).65 As to the former, some of the extant fragments of the Histories roughly correspond to much of the biographer’s narrative of the protagonist’s campaigns as proconsul, and the majority of scholars has therefore identified the work as Plutarch’s principal source for the main part of the Life.66 The reconstruction of Livy’s account of the period in question is still more complicated, but the Augustan historian, too, has sometimes been supposed to provide the basis for the biographer’s treatment of the Third Mithridatic War.67 Undoubtedly, the perspective of both extreme view that at least the Roman Lives essentially depend on Mittelquellen, most notably Fenestella (cf. idem 1989; also idem 1993). 62 The use of notes is indicated in Plut. mor. 457d (De cohibenda ira); 464f (De tranquillitate animi), on which cf. the analysis in Van der Stockt 1999, 575–579. However, note the sceptical remarks in Pelling 2002b, esp. 65–71; also idem 1979, 92–95/ 2002, 20–24. 63 Passages from the Lucullus are listed in Piccirilli 1990, xxxviii6. On the practice in some other Lives cf. Cook 2002, who argues that these expressions often serve to introduce key information; also Pauw 1980, 90f. 64 On Plutarch’s use of Latin sources cf. Theander 1951, 68–78; Jones 1971, 81–87; De Rosalia 1991; Moya del Baño/ Carrasco Reija 1991; Strobach 1997, 32–46; also Zadorojnyi 1997 on poetry. Further note Burlando 2000; Zadorojnyi 2006 on Dem. 1f. 65 On Plutarch’s sources for the Lucullus cf. the summarising discussions in Peter 1865, 106–109; Villoresi 1939, 217f.; Van Ooteghem 1959, 215–218; Flacelière/ Chambry 1972, 49– 52; Scardigli 1979, 104f.; eadem 1989, 254f., 262–267, and 284; Piccirilli 1990, xxxvii f. 66 Apart from the references in the previous note cf. Jordan 1872, 55–80 passim; Gleitsmann 1883, 12–24 and 27f.; Otto 1889, 315–317; Maurenbrecher 1891, 48–54; Reinach 1895, 441f.; Bauhofer 1935, 24f.24 and 100–109; McGushin 1994, 202 and passim. Further see the discussion in chapter 5, esp. at nn. 39ff. 67 Cf. Lauer 1871, 3–10; Schacht 1883. Lely 1879, 18–35, followed by Beversen 1888, 63– 65 and passim, remains undecided between Livy and Sallust. Plutarch’s closeness to the Livian tradition is also emphasised by Rizzo 1963, 40–45.

24

1. Introduction

authors was to a certain extent determined by their attitudes to Lucullus’ rival Pompey: favourable in the case of Livy and distinctly unfavourable in the case of the Caesarian Sallust.68 Beyond this, the poet Archias, who accompanied Lucullus on his campaigns and composed an encomiastic poem on the general’s exploits, has been suspected to have served as a source for the more laudatory sections of Plutarch’s narrative.69 The biographer himself explicitly quotes another figure from the commander’s entourage, namely the philosopher Antiochus of Ascalon, as exalting the Roman victory in the battle of Tigranocerta (Luc. 28.8).70 A favourable attitude towards Lucullus must also have been adopted by his political mentor Sulla, whose memoirs were dedicated to his long-time associate and are frequently cited by Plutarch in the Sulla and elsewhere.71 Moreover, the writer from Chaeronea mentions Cicero’s Academica Priora, which contain a eulogising introduction on the course of Lucullus’ career (Luc. 42.4).72 Additional quotations refer to the historical work of Strabo (Luc. 28.8) as well as to Cornelius Nepos (Luc. 43.2), who quite probably composed a Life of Lucullus and may therefore have furnished the Greek biographer with material on all stages of the politician’s career.73 Two further authors, who were both close to Pompey, are unlikely to be of much importance to Plutarch’s Lucullus: Posidonius, whose Histories may have been pro-Sullan and apparently covered events up to the mid-eighties, wrote about the triple triumphator either in an excursus or in a separate work,74 while Theophanes, who is quoted by Plutarch in the Pompeius 68 According to Tac. ann. 4.34.3, Livy Cn Pompeium tantis laudibus tulit, ut Pompeianum eum Augustus appellaret. Cf. Hayne 1990; Heller 2006, 110–114; also Walsh 1961, 32; Christ 2004, 172f.; further Wirth 1988, 587–593. – Sallust’s judgement of Pompey is most clearly expressed in frg. hist. 2.16f. Maurenbrecher = 2.17f. McGushin: oris probi, animo inverecundo and modestus ad alia omnia, nisi ad dominationem. Cf. the commentary ad locc. by Funari 1996, 316–319, and more generally Schur 1934, 256–271; Rizzo 1963, 26–30; Syme 1964, 201f. and 212; La Penna 1968, 275–280; Katz 1982; also McGushin 1992, 17f.; further Heller 2006, 105– 109; more sceptically Christ 2004, 172; pace Wirth 1984; idem 1988, 578–580; idem 2006, 395– 399. On Sallust’s attitude towards Lucullus see chapter 5 at nn. 42ff. 69 Cf. Cic. Arch. 21; also Att. 1.16.15 = 16.15 Shackleton Bailey. For Archias as a source of the Lucullus cf. Reinach 1890, 49–54; idem 1895, 425 and 442f.; Rizzo 1963, 40 and 79–81; Hillard 1987, 37–47; also Coarelli 1981, 254–257 = 1996, 410–414; idem 1987, 157–159. 70 On the rôle of Archias and Antiochus in the general’s retinue see chapter 6 at nn. 49ff. 71 For the dedication cf. Luc. 1.4; 4.5; Sull. 6.10, and see chapter 2 at n. 4 as well as chapter 4 at n. 18. Further references: Luc. 23.6; Sull. 4.5; 5.2; 6.8–13; 14.3; 14.10; 16.1; 17.2–4; 19.8; 23.5; 27.6; 27.11–13; 28.15; 37.1–3; Mar. 25.6f.; 26.6f.; 35.4; mor. 786d–e (An seni sit gerenda res publica). Cf. Valgiglio 1975, 256–281; also Vitelli 1898, 355–380 and 393f.; Calabi 1951 passim; further Behr 1993, 17–21. 72 On Plutarch’s use of Cicero cf. Valgiglio 1982, who generally rejects the possibility of direct consultation, whereas Scuderi 2004 suggests a more variegated pattern; further Moya del Baño/ Carrasco Reija 1991, 289–295. On the Academica see chapter 2 at nn. 18ff. 73 On Strabo see the remarks below. Also note Magnelli 2002 on the fragment in Luc. 28.8 in particular. On Plutarch’s use of Nepos cf. Geiger 1985, 58–62, 104–108, and 117–120. – Apart from the authors mentioned in the text, Plutarch also quotes Horace (Luc. 39.5). See chapter 3 at n. 91. 74 The treatment of Pompey is attested in Strab. 11.1.6. Cf. Malitz 1983, 69–74 and passim,

Sources and Traditions

25

(37.4), produced an account celebrating his patron’s achievements in the East, yet does not seem to have dealt with Lucullus in any detail.75 Fenestella or others may or may not have served as Mittelquellen for some of the aforementioned writers,76 but this actually appears much less consequential for the purposes of the present enquiry than the effective impact of the judgements and emphases of the primary authors on the biographer’s perspective. To conclude this introduction, some general remarks shall be made about the extant sources relating to Lucullus beyond Plutarch.77 The most detailed accounts are dedicated to the general’s campaigns in the East, namely the relevant sections of Appian’s Mithridateios and of Cassius Dio’s Roman History.78 While the former is especially rich in its treatment of the early stages of Lucullus’ operations in Asia Minor, the latter is only preserved for the later phase of the war from the battle of Tigranocerta onwards. Valuable independent information is provided by the local historian Memnon of Heraclea (FGrH 434),79 whose work is transmitted as an excerpt in the Library of Photius, and by Strabo, whose Geography reports several episodes that reflect the personal experience of his ancestors as members of the royal administration of Pontus.80 Contemporary material is furnished by Cicero in various speeches, letters, and treatises, including the De imperio Cn. Pompei and the aforementioned Academica Priora. Furthermore, a brief sketch is given in the later account by Velleius Paterculus (2.33), and in addition there are numerous scattered references mostly dealing with the topic of trufhv, many of them being supplied by Pliny the Elder and by the eyewitness Varro.81 Beyond the literary sources, Lucullus’ activities in the East are mirrored in a number of honorary inscriptions from the Greek world.82 All of these sources will prove important for the present enquiry not only due to the particular information they contain, but also as fragments helping to establish and better to understand the image of Lucullus among his contemporaries, in the historical tradition, and especially in Plutarch. also 57f. on Plutarch’s limited use of Posidonius; Engels 1999, 169–174; further Strasburger 1965, 44 and 50f. For the possibility of Posidonian influence on the Pompeius cf. Heftner 1995, 46–48; also Scardigli 1979, 120f.; García Moreno 2005, 221f. 75 Cf. Fabricius 1888, 5–7, who duly rejects the hypothesis advanced by Arnold 1884, 87– 98 to the effect that Theophanes’ account included a detailed description of Lucullus’ campaigns which served as a source for both Plutarch and Appian; pace Hose 1994, 238f. On Plutarch’s use of Theophanes in the Pompeius cf. Heftner 1995, 53–59; also Scardigli 1979, 121f. with further references. Beyond his bias in favour of Pompey, Theophanes presumably resented Lucullus’ attack on his native Mytilene in the late eighties, on which see chapter 2 at n. 42. 76 See above, n. 61. 77 More comprehensive surveys can be found in Villoresi 1939, 207–221; Van Ooteghem 1959, 208–220. 78 On both authors cf. Hose 1994, 142–451 with further references. On the Mithridateios in particular cf. ibid., 220–246; McGing 1993; Goukowsky 2001, esp. liii–lvii regarding Appian’s attitude to Lucullus. 79 For Memnon’s essentially positive depiction of Lucullus cf. Dueck 2006, 56. 80 On Strabo’s personal background see chapter 6 at n. 93. 81 See chapter 3 at nn. 83ff. 82 See chapter 6 at nn. 23ff. Also note the elogium from Arretium in CIL I 2 1, p. 196 = InscrIt XIII 3.84 = ILS 60.

2. LUCULLUS AND HELLENISM At the pinnacle of Lucullus’ power and fame after the capture of Tigranocerta, Plutarch affirms that his hero “was yearning for the praise that is consequent upon justice and humanity (tw`n ajpo; dikaiosuvnh" kai; filanqrwpiva" ejpaivnwn), rather than of that which follows military successes” (Luc. 29.6). This comment highlights two personal qualities, dikaiosuvnh and filanqrwpiva, which are of fundamental importance to the Greek conception of human virtue, and thus fits into a broader interpretative framework centred around Lucullus’ connexion with the Hellenic world. In the passage under consideration, this link is further reinforced by an explicit reference to the proconsul’s paideiva as the biographer goes on to interpret the general’s aspirations as “a manifestation of his gentle and educated spirit (hJmevrou yuch`" kai; pepaideumevnh" ejpivdeixi")”. Idealised though this judgement undoubtedly is, Plutarch’s remark shows that in his view Hellenism is not only “the key to Lucullus’ moral outlook”, as Simon Swain has aptly observed,1 but also one of the driving forces behind his private and public activities. In fact, the influence of Greek culture is strongly emphasised almost throughout the Life, both in the context of the protagonist’s policy of philhellenic benefaction at the time of his campaigns and with reference to his philosophical interests and intellectual pursuits. At the same time, Lucullus’ luxurious lifestyle during his alleged retirement, which a Roman audience would presumably have perceived as emblematic of the negative aspects of Hellenism, is carefully separated from the treatment of his Greek virtues and rather connected with the Barbarian world. As shall be set out in the present chapter, Plutarch’s focus on Hellenic qualities owes much to his own interest in the nature and development of his hero’s character, and in particular responds to his desire to commemorate the benefactions Lucullus had conferred on his native Chaeronea.2 Moreover, the biographer’s way of presenting Hellenic culture, philanthropy, and philhellenic policies as a unified whole tends to conceal the instrumental side of the Roman noble’s relationship with the Greek public, which was especially important during the war against the supposedly anti-Hellenic kings Mithridates and Tigranes. Nevertheless, it would be misguided to conceive of the Plutarchan theme only in terms of a literary device within his biographical composition, or as a mere reflexion of his intellectual ideals in the context of the revival of Classicism in the so-called Second Sophistic. Notwithstanding the considerable distortion brought about by the biographer’s reinterpretation, it shall be demonstrated that Hellenism actually constituted a crucial element in Lucullus’ identity and self1 2

Swain 1990, 143 = 1995, 261; idem 1992, 314. See chapter 1 at nn. 49ff. and below at nn. 30ff.

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image, and decisively shaped his political and cultural dealings with the Greek world. Greek Paideia and Personal Restraint In the very first chapter of the Lucullus, Plutarch singles out paideiva as one of the determining factors in his hero’s career, declaring that the protagonist, “from his youth up, devoted himself to the harmonious and so-called liberal culture (th;n ejmmelh` tauvthn kai; legomevnhn ejleuqevrion ... paideivan), wherein the beautiful was sought (ejpi; tw`/ kalw/`)” (Luc. 1.5). This statement forms part of a laudatory discussion of Lucullus’ literary skills and his proficiency in both Latin and Greek.3 In particular, Plutarch cites two works which were extant at the time of his writing: Sulla’s memoirs, the dedication of which called upon Lucullus, in the form of a topos, to order and arrange the material in a more suitable way (Luc. 1.4),4 and a Greek history of the Marsic War which he is said to have composed following a suggestion by Hortensius and Sisenna to write in verse or in prose in either Greek or Latin as the lot should decide (Luc. 1.7f.).5 Furthermore, the biographer explicitly connects Lucullus’ education with the development of his public career, asserting that, later on, “he allowed his mind to find leisure and repose in philosophy, rousing the contemplative side of his nature, and giving timely (ejn kairw/`) halt and check to the play of his ambition (to; filovtimon)” (Luc. 1.6).6 In the ensuing account of Lucullus’ political and military activities, the theme of Hellenism is explored on a different level as Plutarch looks at the practical implications of the protagonist’s paideiva for his dealings with Greeks in the provinces and in the theatre of war – a complex that shall be discussed in the next section of this chapter. Only towards the end of the Life does the biographer return to the topic of his hero’s learning and scholarly interests. This time, however, the context is much more critical; for the final part of the Lucullus is mainly dedicated to the theme of trufhv and serves to construct an antithesis between the protagonist’s extravagance in old age and the supposed sobriety of his early career. Again, the question of filotimiva is addressed, yet the interpretation of a timely retirement does not stand uncontested, but is presented as an alternative to the distinctly negative reading of Lucullus’ way of life as being unsuited to his age (Luc. 38.2–5).7 3 On bilingualism among Roman aristocrats cf. generally Kaimio 1979, esp. 207–271 on Roman authors writing in Greek, and contrast Dubuisson 1992, who suggests widespread highlevel competence, with the scepticism expressed by Horsfall 1979. Also note Adams 2003, 9–14; further Valette-Cagnac 2005, who rightly stresses the importance of viewing the Greek used by Roman aristocrats as a cultural language related to their élite identity. 4 Cf. Pascucci 1975, 295f.; Schütz 1994, 91–93; Scholz 2003, 189f.65. According to Suet. gramm. 12.2, the work was completed by Sulla’s freedman Epicadus. See also chapter 4 at n. 18. 5 However, note the doubts expressed by Crawford 1978, 337 75 as to whether the piece on the Marsic War known to Plutarch was by Lucullus. 6 On the concept of filotimiva in Plutarch cf. the references cited below, n. 83. 7 See the detailed discussion in chapter 3 at nn. 20ff.

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Significantly, Plutarch dedicates a whole paragraph to Marius as a foil for the protagonist’s control of ambition before he goes on to refer to Cicero and Scipio Aemilianus as additional examples of an unfortunate career late in life. Unlike the latter two politicians, the septuple consul was well known for exhibiting disinterest and contempt for Greek education.8 At the beginning of his Marius, the biographer thus cites the protagonist’s wilful ignorance of Hellenic culture as the principal reason for his cruel and savage old age, rejecting his attitude as being at variance with the advice of Plato to sacrifice to the Graces (Mar. 2.2–4). These observations are taken up at the end of the Life when Plutarch unfavourably contrasts his hero’s filotimiva, filarciva, and zhlotupiva with Plato’s good humour in the face of death, and goes on to reflect on the general importance of lovgo" and paideiva (Mar. 45.10–46.5).9 Accordingly, the mention of Marius in the Lucullus not only serves to present a problematic counter-model to Lucullus’ retirement from politics, but also reinforces the idea of an antithesis between excessive ambition and Greek learning.10 In the following treatment of Lucullus’ trufhv, Plutarch does not spare the protagonist severe censure and actually dissolves his earlier connexion with Hellenic culture. For the supposed sea change in Lucullus’ mode of life leaves him in opposition to the world of Hellenism as embodied in the Greek guests he lavishly entertains at Rome: these visitors, “with genuinely Greek sentiments, were at last ashamed and declined further invitations, on the ground that he was incurring so much expense every day on their account; whereupon Lucullus said to them with a smile, ‘Some of this expense, my Greek friends, is indeed on your account; most of it, however, is on account of Lucullus’” (Luc. 41.2). However, the protagonist is not only criticised as a narcissistic and pleasureloving host, but ends up being associated with the very opposite of Hellenic culture when Plutarch castigates him for using his wealth as though it were something “Barbarian” (Luc. 41.7).11 Worst of all, the biographer concludes in the synkrisis that Lucullus’ pursuit of pleasure as a final end is contrary to the teachings of Plato and “not worthy of the noble Academy” (Luc. 44.3).12 All of this shall be explored more fully in chapter 3, yet in the present context it is important to understand that the Platonist Plutarch does not hesitate to express strong disapproval of his hero’s behaviour in so far as it deviates from the imperatives of Greek paideiva and the doctrines of the Academy, which Lucullus himself is described as espousing in a section presently to be discussed.13

8

Beyond Plutarch, cf. Sall. Iug. 63.3; 85.12; 85.32; Cic. Arch. 19; Val. Max. 2.2.3. Cf. also Mar. 34.5f., further Sull. 7.2, and the discussions in Swain 1990, 138–140 = 1995, 251–254; Cacciari 1995, 368–377; Duff 1999, 118–121. 10 Cf. Swain 1992, 314f.; also Wardman 1974, 218; further Beck 2002, 469f. 11 See also chapter 3 at nn. 30ff. On the opposition between Greek and Barbarian characteristics in Plutarch see below at n. 76. 12 See the more detailed treatment in chapter 3 at nn. 35ff. 13 On Plutarch’s Platonism cf., e.g., Dillon 1977, 184–230. Also note Aalders/ De Blois 1992, 3389–3404 on Platonic and non-Platonic elements in his political thought. 9

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In contrast to the consular’s self-indulgent excesses, the positive side of his retirement is presented as being most intimately connected with his Hellenic leanings. Thus Lucullus is praised for the establishment of libraries and in particular for making them accessible without restriction to the Greeks, who went there as to a “hostelry of the Muses (Mousw`n ti katagwvgion)” (Luc. 42.1). Moreover, Plutarch goes on to point out that the protagonist himself often spent his leisure hours with his Greek visitors, including both scholars and politicians, and asserts that “in general his house was a home and prytaneum for the Greeks (eJstiva kai; prutanei`on JEllhnikovn) who came to Rome” (Luc. 42.2). The distinctly Hellenic connotation of these phrases is remarkable, even allowing for the fact that they are evidently constructed as a response to the biographer’s praise for the hospitable nature of Cimon’s house, which is called a common prytaneum (prutanei`on ... koinovn) for the citizens (Cim. 10.7).14 Beyond this, the writer from Chaeronea highlights Lucullus’ fondness for philosophy and approvingly cites his adherence to the Old Academy, which was at that time led by Antiochus of Ascalon (Luc. 42.3).15 Having described this distinguished scholar as the protagonist’s “friend and companion (fivlon ... kai; sumbiwthvn)”, Plutarch further underscores the significance of the statesman’s intellectual pursuits by portraying him as a participant in learned discussions, though he does not say that Lucullus “arrayed” Antiochus against the disciples of Philo, as the Loeb translation misleadingly suggests.16 In this context, the biographer cites Cicero’s Academica Priora, in which Lucullus figures as one of the interlocutors in a debate on epistemology, as evidence for his hero’s philosophical aspirations (Luc. 42.4). In theory, all of this should of course have enabled Lucullus not only to check excessive ambition in the political arena, but also to avoid reprehensible extravagance in the sphere of private life. Accordingly, Plutarch is at pains to emphasise the inconsistency between his hero’s devotion to Greek learning on the one hand and his love for Barbarian luxury on the other. This effort appears all the more significant as a Roman audience would surely have been inclined to view these features as closely interrelated aspects of Hellenic culture.17 Undoubtedly, the

14 Cf. also Luc. 44.5f., which is discussed in chapter 3 at nn. 32f. On Lucullus’ library at Tusculum cf. further Cic. fin. 3.7–10; Isid. orig. 6.5.1, and Dix 2000, who incidentally suggests that Plutarch’s language may be influenced by Archias’ praise for Lucullus as a patron and man of letters (pp. 456 and 463). 15 Building on Cic. 4.1f., Babut 1969, 198f. and Opsomer 1998, 172; contra Nikolaidis 1999, 408–411 suggest that Plutarch actually considered Antiochus a Stoic rather than an Academic, but, if correct, this hardly diminishes the biographer’s praise for Lucullus’ philosophical activities. On the passage from the Cicero cf. also Tatum 2001. 16 For the interpretation of the intransitive ajntetavtteto and the meaning of the whole passage cf. Glucker 1978, 380–390; Jones 1982; Barnes 1989, 90–92; Fladerer 1996, 186f. On Antiochus’ rôle as a member of Lucullus’ entourage in the East see chapter 6 at nn. 49ff. 17 On Plutarch’s avoidance of this connexion cf. generally Swain 1990, 126–128 = 1995, 229–233. Also note Petrochilos 1974, 85: “In Lucullus, the material and intellectual side of Greek culture were conspicuously united”.

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biographer is careful not to confirm the prejudices entertained by many of his contemporaries from the Western part of the Empire. As for Lucullus’ actual commitment to scholarly pursuits, the evidence of Cicero’s Academica Priora, together with some related observations in his letters to Atticus, seriously questions the eulogising picture painted in Plutarch’s Life. Only superficially does the Ciceronian treatise corroborate the biographer’s interpretation by presenting Lucullus as well versed in philosophy, and as expounding the epistemological ideas of Antiochus of Ascalon. In particular, the eulogising introduction to the Academica suggests that “Lucullus was more eagerly devoted (maiore enim studio ... deditus) both to letters of all sorts and to philosophy than persons who did not know him supposed” (ac. pr. 4). However complimentary this remark may appear, Cicero indicates that Lucullus’ rôle in the dialogue was somewhat difficult to explain to contemporary readers. This impression is reinforced by the writer’s subsequent rejection of the criticism expressed by those “who deny that the personages who debate in our books possessed a knowledge (scientiam) of the subjects debated” (ac. pr. 7).18 Yet above all it is Cicero’s correspondence that raises serious doubts as to the accuracy of his own laudatory statements on Lucullus’ scholarly qualities; for the author of the treatise reveals to Atticus that the interlocutors in the Academica Priora were not really suited to discuss the philosophical issues treated therein. Justifying the substitution of the participants in the revised edition of the dialogue, Cicero declares that in the original version “aristocratic but by no means learned (philologi) personages talk above their own heads (nimis acute loquuntur)” (Att. 13.12.3 = 320.3 Sh.B.).19 In another letter, using Greek terminology, he affirms that they, though not devoid of education (ajpaideusiva), were well known to lack experience (ajtriyiva) in the matters under discussion (Att. 13.16.1 = 323.1 Sh.B.).20 Undoubtedly, these remarks not only undermine the significance of the encomiastic statements in the introduction to the treatise itself, but also diminish the credibility of Plutarch’s observations on Lucullus’ philosophical aspirations, the more so as the biographer explicitly refers to Cicero’s dialogue and may therefore have been impressed by the praise heaped therein on the consular’s devotion to Greek learning.21 Accordingly, modern authors are, with good reason, generally careful not to exaggerate the nature and extent of Lucullus’ scholarly pursuits.22 18

Cf. the observations in Lévy 1992, 153f.; Haltenhoff 1998, 64–66. Contrast Plutarch’s praise for Lucullus’ filologiva in Luc. 1.7. 20 Cf. also Att. 13.19.5 = 326.5 Sh.B.: the treatise was “too intellectual (logikwvtera) for them to be supposed ever to have dreamt of such things”. On code-switching into Greek in Cicero’s correspondence cf. Swain 2002, esp. 146–167; Adams 2003, 308–347 with further references. 21 Although Plutarch was evidently familiar with the argument of Cicero’s piece, it is unclear whether he knew it at first hand. Cf. the doubts expressed by Swain 1990, 144 = 1995, 262f. with nn. 107 and 110; idem 1990a, 195 with n. 10; idem 1992, 31315 and 31417; also Scuderi 2004, 326–328, and see chapter 1, n. 72. 22 Cf., e.g., Van Ooteghem 1959, 25–27; Burnyeat 1997, 277–279. 19

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Most radically, Michael Crawford has asserted that, even without the benefit of the letters discussed above, “Lucullus’ real philistinism can be inferred from Cicero’s desperate protestations to the contrary”.23 Still, it should not be overlooked that Cicero’s verdict only applies to Lucullus’ qualities as an expert scholar and by no means disproves the latter’s sincere, if non-professional, interest in philosophy and letters. Significantly, the politician from Arpinum elsewhere confirms Plutarch’s statement on Lucullus’ literary activity as a historian writing in Greek, though he finds fault with the general’s claim that he had sprinkled some barbarisms and solecisms in order to show that it was the work of a Roman (Att. 1.19.10 = 19.10 Sh.B.).24 To be sure, such pursuits by no means constitute an exception among the late Republican aristocracy, whose members thus sought to demonstrate their cultural and linguistic skills in a way consonant with Roman élite identity.25 Yet this actually makes it all the more unconvincing completely to deny Lucullus’ devotion to Greek learning, which is incidentally corroborated by Cicero’s rejection of the term ajpaideusiva. Beyond Lucullus’ own studies, moreover, there is no reason to disbelieve his commitment to the promotion of scholarship, however exaggerated Plutarch’s flattering description of his “home and prytaneum for the Greeks” may be. Of course, the establishment of a well-stocked library and the collection of statues and other objects of art, many of which were acquired as war booty, do not merely indicate personal fascination with the products of Hellenic civilisation, but must also be read as a conscious display of wealth, social status, and cultural competence.26 Yet far from rendering Lucullus’ intellectual activities meaningless, this rather adds to their significance as a key element of the consular’s selfimage – a point that shall be elaborated further at a later stage in this chapter. Notwithstanding, Lucullus’ association with Greek paideiva has been questioned not only on the basis of Cicero’s disparaging remarks, but also as part of a more comprehensive argument about the prominence of the theme of Hellenism in Plutarch’s Life. Asserting that the stress on Lucullus’ intimate connexion with Greek culture was essentially “adventitious”, Swain has suggested that the biographer imposed a philhellenic interpretation of his hero’s career on the evidence 23 Crawford 1978, 205. His treatment of Lucullus forms part of an argument designed to show that leading Romans of the first century established relationships with Greek intellectuals in order to have their cultural pretensions flattered. For a more balanced assessment of Lucullus’ cultural interests cf. Keaveney 1992, 9–12; also Dix 2000, esp. 442–444. 24 According to Shackleton Bailey 1965, 340, Lucullus thus tried to avoid the impression that he had employed ‘ghosts’, whereas Dubuisson 1981, 43 suggests that the remark reflects the politician’s desire to distance himself from an ‘un-Roman’ activity. Kaimio 1979, 232 discusses Cicero’s statement together with the aforementioned anecdote about the genesis of the piece on the Marsic War (Plut. Luc. 1.7f.), and takes the two passages to indicate “a humorous attitude towards the language choice”. See also the following note. 25 Cf. Valette-Cagnac 2005, esp. 74–80, who argues that this was often achieved by a deliberate excess of ‘Greekness’, citing Lucullus’ claim as a contrary example (pp. 75f.). 26 For Lucullus as an art collector cf. Plin. nat. 34.93; 35.125; 35.155f.; also 34.36; Strab. 12.3.11; Plut. Luc. 39.2; also 23.4; Cic. leg. 3.31; also fin. 2.107; Varr. rust. 1.2.10; vir. ill. 74.7. On the captured items cf. Pape 1975, 22f.

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and developed it into a leitmotif that takes up the emphasis on pan-Hellenic benefaction in the Cimon.27 As shall be argued below, the construction of the pair and Plutarch’s willingness to praise Lucullus’ favourable disposition towards the Greek world indeed constitute most significant factors, yet – pace Swain – this does not imply that the material on the Roman noble’s philhellenism should basically be considered as an artificial product of biographical fabrication. As the bulk of the relevant information is related to Lucullus’ policies in the East rather than to his scholarly pursuits, Swain’s main argument can only be assessed on the basis of the analysis to be conducted in the ensuing section. One specific point raised by the British classicist merits attention in the present context, though, namely the fact that Plutarch fails to relate his hero’s Hellenism to any period of study in Greece.28 Considering the dearth of sources on the protagonist’s early years, this is not particularly surprising, but even if Lucullus, unlike some of his peers, did not study abroad, this does by no means indicate a lack of familiarity with Hellenic education. For at the time, the training of rhetoric at Rome was commonly conducted in Greek, and almost inevitably Lucullus, from an early age, enjoyed the company of Greek intellectuals, including, most notably, the poet Archias.29

Philhellenism and Political Practice As indicated in the introduction to this study, one of Lucullus’ benefactions lies at the heart of Plutarch’s biographical pair as a whole:30 having saved the town of Chaeronea by giving testimony in a lawsuit before the Roman governor, Lucullus had been awarded a marble statue at the time, and almost two centuries later he was to be honoured with the literary monument of Plutarch’s Life (Cim. 2.2). The episode that led to the trial (Cim. 1.3–7) occurred during the First Mithridatic War and concerns the murder of Roman soldiers by a number of young Chaeroneans who felt offended because of the sexual advances made by the local commander to a certain Damon.31 Following their subsequent condemnation by the council of the town, the perpetrators of the crime slew the civic magistrates, too, and went on to ravage the country before Damon was himself murdered in the wake of his readmission to the community. Later on, the Chaeroneans were accused before the governor by the neighbouring Orchomenians, but escaped punishment thanks to Lucullus’ intervention (Cim. 2.1). 27

Cf. Swain 1990, 143–145 = 1995, 259–264, quotation 145 = 263; idem 1992, quotation 314. A number of similar observations are made by García Moreno 2002, 272–275. 28 Cf. Swain 1990, 145 = 1995, 263; idem 1992, 314. Barnes 1989, 91 suggests that Lucullus may have studied philosophy at Athens in the nineties, yet this is a matter of speculation. 29 On the Greek element in Roman education cf. Marrou 1955, 329–344; Kaimio 1979, 195– 207; also Gruen 1990, 179–192. Archias arrived at Rome in 102 (Cic. Arch. 5). See chapter 6 at n. 54. 30 See chapter 1 at nn. 49ff. 31 For the date of the incident cf. Ma 1994, 68f. as well as the other contributions cited in the next note.

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The story has recently attracted much attention, being variously interpreted as providing an example of a problematic passage from boyhood to manhood, as reflecting changing loyalties in the course of the war, as testifying to “social banditry” in defiance of Roman rule, and as echoing local traditions and myths in search of civic identity.32 Whichever perspective one chooses to adopt, it is interesting, though hardly surprising, to see that Plutarch essentially treats the incident as a private affair and fails explicitly to elaborate on its anti-Roman aspects.33 What is more, Pierre Ellinger has suggested that Damon, whose descendants were still living in Phocis at the time of the biographer’s writing (Cim. 1.9), should be considered a founder and hence a figure inviting comparison with Lucullus in his capacity as ‘founder’ of Chaeronea.34 For the purposes of the present enquiry, it is important to understand that Plutarch’s local interests as related to the theme of philhellenic benefaction constituted the starting point for the conceptualisation of the pair and therefore exerted a strong influence on the selection and re-elaboration of the material presented in the following narrative. Before the biographer opens his account of Cimon’s and Lucullus’ careers, the emphasis on Hellenism is further reinforced as he highlights the qualities of pra/ovth" and filanqrwpiva in a transitional chapter dedicated to the similarities between the two protagonists (Cim. 3.1; 3.3).35 In the Roman Life, the theme is taken up right at the beginning in the abovediscussed remarks on Lucullus’ educational background (Luc. 1.4–8). After that, Plutarch’s focus is largely concentrated on his hero’s military career, which almost continuously brought him into contact with the Hellenistic world. Following an early reference to his pra/ovth" in the context of the Marsic War (Luc. 2.1),36 Lucullus’ prolonged activities in the East allow the biographer regularly to praise his mildness and humanity as manifested in benefactions to Greeks. Thus in the context of his naval mission during the First Mithridatic War, the protagonist is commended for restoring order in Cyrene after having found her in a state of turmoil owing to successive tyrannies and wars (Luc. 2.4f.).37 In particular, Lucullus is reported to have fixed the city’s constitution, reminding the inhabitants of a saying of Plato’s, who had once been asked to write laws for Cyrene but noted that this was hard to do at a time when she was prospering.38 By contrast, Plutarch observes that the adverse circumstances “made the Cyrenaeans meek (pra/vou") to Lucullus as their lawgiver (nomoqetou`nti)”. As Jules Van 32 Cf. Ma 1994, esp. 49–59; Mackay 2000; Thornton 2001, 215–247; Ellinger 2005. Franco 2003 discusses miscellaneous issues with a focus on Plutarch’s point of view. Also note KalletMarx 1995, 279–282. 33 This point is stressed by Franco 2003, esp. 195–200, but also note Ellinger 2005, esp. 298–301 and 306 on the implicit question of whether Rome ought to be seen as a ‘tyrant city’. Further note Goldhill 2002, 255. For Plutarch’s attitude to Roman rule see below at n. 79. 34 Cf. Ellinger 2005, 306–310. 35 The significance of these references is rightly stressed by Fuscagni 1989, 43f. 36 See chapter 4 at nn. 4ff. 37 Cf. also Ios. ant. Iud. 14.114 (= Strab., FGrH 91, F 7), and see chapter 6 at n. 36 for the political background to the episode. 38 Cf. also mor. 779d (Ad principem ineruditum).

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Ooteghem has suggested, the reference to Plato may indicate that Antiochus of Ascalon, who accompanied the proquaestor on his journey, played a prominent rôle in the drafting of the reforms.39 This is plausible enough, even though the precise nature of the measures adopted remains unknown. At any rate, it is clear that the mere mention of Plato serves to dignify Lucullus’ intervention in the eyes of Plutarch. In the course of the same mission, the protagonist is subsequently described as persuading the people of Cos and Cnidus to change sides in the conflict with Mithridates, and as setting the Colophonians free from their tyrant (Luc. 3.3f.). Later on, after the Peace of Dardanus, the biographer praises Lucullus on account of his lenient treatment of the cities of Asia, which appears in marked contrast to the dire consequences of the heavy contribution imposed on them by Sulla.40 Although the proquaestor was responsible for the collection of the money, Plutarch asserts that “for the cities it seems to have been a certain assuagement of Sulla’s severity (th`" Suvlla calepovthto") when he showed himself not only honest and just (kaqaro;n kai; divkaion), but even mild (pra/`on) in the performance of a task so grievous and grim (baru; kai; skuqrwpovn)” (Luc. 4.1).41 Evidently, this does not apply to the treatment of Mytilene; for Lucullus is reported to have besieged and attacked the city, taking many prisoners, killing 500 people, and carrying off 6,000 slaves and much booty (Luc. 4.2f.).42 Still, the biographer is at pains to point out that his hero had wished the Mytilenaeans to be reasonable (eujgnwmonh`sai) and to receive a moderate penalty for their rôle in the war against Mithridates, but that he was effectively forced to resort to military sanctions when he saw that they were possessed by an evil spirit (kakodaimonou`nta"). While the emphasis on the protagonist’s well-meaning attitude towards the city obviously fits Plutarch’s interpretative pattern, the amount of circumstantial detail in his account, including the narration of an astute stratagem devised by Lucullus, strongly suggests that he built on material that closely reflected the proquaestor’s own version of events.43 Following two chapters on Lucullus’ consulship, the protagonist returns to the East as supreme commander in the Third Mithridatic War. Interestingly, Plutarch notes that the Pontic king was gladly welcomed by the cities of Bithynia and all Asia, whose inhabitants had been subjected to great sufferings by the moneylenders and tax-gatherers (Luc. 7.6).44 Expressing forceful criticism of Roman maladministration, the biographer employs their excesses to bring out the merits 39

Cf. Van Ooteghem 1959, 25. Cf. Plut. Sull. 25.4; App. Mithr. 62.259–63.261; Gran. Licinian. 35.82. Also note Brunt 1956 on the problem of the rôle of the publicani. 41 See also chapter 4 at n. 17. 42 Cf. also Suet. Iul. 2; Liv. per. 89.14, both relating to the capture of the city, but neither mentioning Lucullus, on whose involvement cf. Schütz 1994, 79f. with discussion and further references. 43 On the pro-Lucullan source underlying the first chapters of the Life see chapter 4 at n. 23. 44 Cf. also Memnon, F 27.5f. on the murder of publicani at the hands of the Heracleans, with the diverging reconstructions in Janke 1963, 84f. and Kallet-Marx 1995, 302. 40

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of his hero’s policies, stating that “Lucullus later drove them off, Harpies that they were, snatching the people’s food; but at that time he tried to make them more moderate by admonishment, and to put an end to the defections of the cities, hardly one of which was, so to say, in a quiet state” (Luc. 7.7). The reform programme thus announced is implemented after Mithridates’ flight to Armenia and provides Plutarch with another opportunity to praise Lucullus’ benefactions (Luc. 20). As Swain has pointed out, the vivid description of the debt problem probably owes much to the biographer’s own feelings since it bears close similarities to the treatment in the essay De vitando aere alieno.45 In contrast to the enslavement of the debtors at the hands of the creditors and publicani, the proconsul’s measures are celebrated as serving to free the cities from the financial burden that had been aggravating as a result of the fine imposed by Sulla. According to Plutarch, “Lucullus was not only loved by the peoples who had benefited from him, but other provinces also longed for him, and called happy those whose good fortune it was to have such a governor” (Luc. 20.6).46 In this context, the biographer also hints at the political consequences of the proconsul’s reforms, which are said to have incurred the resentment of the publicani and financiers (Luc. 20.5).47 Significantly, the protagonist is presented as being prepared to face their resistance, and thus to endanger his own position, for the sake of conferring benefactions on Greeks. What is more, the overriding importance of Lucullus’ philhellenism is not limited to the sphere of administrative policies, but applies to other fields as well. In various instances, Plutarch highlights the displeasure of the proconsul’s soldiers at the practical consequences of his desire not to harm the Greek population in the theatre of war.48 Thus the biographer has Lucullus’ men complain that he brings all the cities over to his side by peaceful means without giving them a chance to enrich themselves by plunder (Luc. 14.2f.). Later on, Plutarch quotes Sallust as attesting that the legionaries were ill-disposed towards their commander in consequence of their being compelled to spend two successive winters in camp (Luc. 33.3 = hist. frg. 5.10 Maur. = 4.70 McGush.), and goes on to stress that Lucullus did not once take them into a Greek and friendly city (Luc. 33.4). The conflict between the general and his men escalates in the context of the capture of Amisus: according to the biographer, the proconsul wished to bring aid to the inhabitants of the burning city, but was eventually forced to give way to the soldiers’ vociferous demand for booty (Luc. 19.4). Seeing the devastation caused 45 Cf. esp. mor. 832a on money-lenders as Harpies seizing the debtors’ food, and Swain 1992, 310f. 46 Interestingly, the brief treatment in App. Mithr. 83.376 does not present the reforms as a benefaction. Also note Shatzman 1975, 192, who points out that the remaining payments were still very substantial; further Will 1991, 48f., who surmises that Lucullus’ measures were primarily meant to serve the financial interests of the general himself. 47 See chapter 4 at nn. 41f. Schulz 1997, 255f. rightly stresses the political motives of Lucullus’ reforms, which were designed not least to improve his personal standing with the provincials. Also note Manandian 1963, 79–81, who views the proconsul’s measures as a concession dictated by strategic imperatives prior to the invasion of Armenia. 48 On this and other reasons for the legionaries’ disaffection see chapter 5.

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by the fire and his army’s depredations, the commander is said to have burst into tears, deploring his fate of having followed the path of Mummius, the destroyer of Corinth (Luc. 19.5).49 At a later stage, Lucullus gets his revenge when he takes the city of Nisibis defended by the same Callimachus who had set fire to Amisus before escaping by sea (Luc. 32.5f.; 19.3). Following his capture, the enemy commander is said to have offered information on secret stores of great treasures, yet Plutarch reports that the proconsul treated him harshly as a punishment for the destruction of Amisus and for “robbing him of the object of his ambition (filotimivan), which was to show kindness to the Greeks (crhstovthto" ejpivdeixin pro;" tou;" {Ellhna")” (Luc. 32.6). Neither material wealth nor the affection of his soldiers are thus deemed as important to Lucullus as his desire to act as a champion of Hellenic interests who, according to Plutarch’s statement quoted at the beginning of this chapter, was more anxious to be praised for justice and humanity than for military successes (Luc. 29.6). In the biographer’s narrative, these qualities also manifest themselves in the generous treatment of Greek cities after their capture, which is regularly presented as a liberation. Notwithstanding the mischief wrought on the Amisenes by the looting legionaries, the proconsul is reported to have rebuilt most of what had been destroyed, and to have settled and resettled Greeks on the city’s expanded territory (Luc. 19.6).50 Special attention is paid to the Athenians living at Amisus, who are said to have been well clothed by Lucullus before being sent back home with a present of 200 drachmas per head (Luc. 19.7f.). In this context, Plutarch also highlights the general’s concern for the scholar Tyrannio, whose bad treatment by the proconsul’s officer Murena is contrasted with Lucullus’ own kalokajgaqiva (Luc. 19.8f.).51 In the case of Sinope, too, the Pontic forces are blamed for maltreating the inhabitants and setting fire to the city, whereas the proconsul is credited with killing 8,000 of the occupying soldiers (Luc. 23.2f.). Instead of mentioning the inevitable casualties on the part of the citizens, Plutarch refers to the restoration of their property, and goes on to dwell on a vision of Lucullus’, who is supposed to have been invited to Sinope by her mythical founder Autolycus (Luc. 23.3– 6).52 An earlier and rather different illustration of the cities’ enthusiasm for the Roman general is afforded by the behaviour of the Cyzicenes, who are described as stiffly resisting the onslaught of Mithridates’ army and finally provide the victorious commander with a pleasant welcome (Luc. 9.4–10.4; 12.1).

49 The implications for Plutarch’s judgement are emphasised by García Moreno 1995, 142; idem 1996, 367; idem 2002, 268: “No cabe duda que el tema del saqueo de ciudades griegas era para Plutarco un auténtico test de filohelenismo; algo que de haberse podido hacer y no realizarse hablaba mucho de la bondad, filantropía y dulzura de carácter de un político y general”. 50 For parallel sources see below at nn. 88ff. 51 See also chapter 4 at n. 129. 52 On the significance of the proconsul’s dream cf. the observations in Piccirilli 1990, 315. For parallel sources see below at nn. 88ff.

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Beyond this, the provincials’ affection and gratitude for the proconsul’s policies is also recorded in more general terms: “Lucullus, after filling Asia to the brim with good order and peace, did not neglect the things that procure pleasure and favour (pro;" hJdonh;n kai; cavrin), but during his stay at Ephesus won over (ejdhmagwvgei) the cities by means of processions and victory festivals and contests of athletes and gladiators. In exchange, the cities celebrated festivals, which they called Lucullea, to do honour (ejpi; timh/`) to the man, and bestowed upon him what is sweeter than honour, their genuine goodwill (th;n ajlhqinh;n eu[noian)” (Luc. 23.1f.). Plutarch thus not only reinforces his emphasis on the protagonist’s popularity among the Greeks, but also outlines the basic structure of the exchange relationship between Lucullus and the cities, which shall be analysed more thoroughly at a later stage of the present enquiry.53 Contests and spectacles are also mentioned in the context of the capture of Tigranocerta. According to Plutarch, the Greeks inside the city walls had risen up against the Barbarians in order to hand the Armenian capital over to Lucullus (Luc. 29.3).54 On learning about the presence of many actors, who had been gathered together for the inauguration of Tigranes’ newly erected theatre, the proconsul is said to have employed them for his victory celebrations (Luc. 29.4). After that, the biographer commends the general for his noble treatment of the city’s inhabitants: “The Greeks he sent to their native towns, giving them supplies for travelling, and likewise the Barbarians who had been compelled to settle there. Thus it came to pass that the dissolution of one city was the restoration of many others, by reason of their recovering their own inhabitants, and Lucullus was loved by them as their benefactor and founder (eujergevth" ... kai; ktivsth")” (Luc. 29.5).55 In this passage, Plutarch’s praise for the proconsul’s generosity and humanity is evidently linked with severe criticism of the policies pursued by Tigranes, who had deported people from various places to populate his new capital.56 Beyond the above-quoted paragraph, the biographer stereotypically depicts the Armenian king as a Barbarian tyrant whose pomp and arrogance serve as a negative foil for Lucullus mildness and moderation.57 In particular, the difference in their treatment of Greeks constitutes a crucial element in this antithesis: “Now the rule of the Armenians was intolerable and grievous to the Greeks. Above all, the spirit of the king himself had become pompous and immoderate (tragiko;n kai; uJpevrogkon) in the midst of his great prosperity” (Luc. 21.3). 53

See the remarks in the final section of this chapter and the fuller discussion in chapter 6. Cf. also the more detailed account in App. Mithr. 86.389–391. Cass. Dio 36.2.3 identifies the insurgents as Cilicians, whereas Memnon, F 38.6 states that Mithridates’ generals delivered the city up to the Roman commander. 55 Cf. also Strab. 11.14.15. On the political implications of these benefactions and Lucullus’ standing as a patron of communities in the south-eastern part of Asia Minor see chapter 6 at nn. 103ff. 56 Cf. also Luc. 21.4; 26.1; further 14.6, and see chapter 6 at n. 32 with additional references. 57 Cf. the profound analysis in Pulci Doria Breglia 1973/74; further Funari 2003. See also chapter 3 at n. 16. 54

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Tigranes’ distance from the Hellenic qualities embodied by Lucullus is reinforced by the biographer’s emphasis on the king’s u{bri", his opposition to freedom and free speech, and his susceptibility to anger and flattery.58 Furthermore, the Armenian ruler and his wife are made responsible for the death of the Greek scholars Metrodorus and Amphicrates (Luc. 22.2–7). Yet in spite of Plutarch’s persistent denigration of Tigranes’ supposedly anti-Hellenic policies, it is actually quite difficult to imagine that he systematically oppressed a sizeable segment of his kingdom’s population. In fact, he is not unlikely to have styled himself filevllhn, and surely the aforementioned presence of Greek actors at Tigranocerta should be interpreted as indicating his desire to present himself not as an opponent, but as a promoter of the spread of Hellenic culture.59 Mithridates, too, is employed as a foil for Lucullus’ humanity, most notably in a chapter dedicated to the liberation of prisoners and the fate of the king’s relations in the wake of his flight to Armenia (Luc. 18).60 After the battle of Cabira, the proconsul is reported to have found many Greeks and many members of the royal family in captivity. To them, according to Plutarch, “the favour of Lucullus (hJ Leukovllou cavri") did not bring rescue but resurrection and a sort of second birth” (Luc. 18.1). This statement is followed by a detailed account of the pitiable end of several of Mithridates’ sisters and wives, including Monime of Miletus, who is said to have led an unhappy life as a Greek among Barbarians. Their violent death at the hands of Mithridates’ eunuch Bacchides provides the biographer with the opportunity to point out that these events “distressed Lucullus, who was of a kind and humane nature (fuvsei crhsto;n o[nta kai; filavnqrwpon)” (Luc. 18.9). Qualities of the same kind are later identified as the means by which the proconsul, without recourse to arms, subdued the Barbarians after the capture of Tigranocerta (Luc. 29.6).61 In other words, the general’s justice and humanity are considered to constitute important factors in the Roman war effort, even though they are apparently not sufficient to prevent the ensuing setbacks ascribed to the unruliness of Lucullus’ soldiers and to the commander’s own inability to win their affection. However, not even in the passages that express vehement criti58 Cf. Luc. 21; 25.1–3; 26.2–5; 27.3f. Sall. hist. frg. 4.57 Maur. = 4.58 McGush.: insolens vera accipiendi may or may not refer to Tigranes. Cf. the doubts expressed by La Penna 1963, 50; Funari 1996, 744. 59 Cf. Pulci Doria Breglia 1973/74, 39f., who cites, among other things, some coins from Nisibis bearing the legend basilevw" megavlou Tigravnou Filevllhno", which may refer to the Tigranes who fought against Lucullus. Cf. Seyrig 1955, 87f. (nos. 2–5) and 113–118, followed by Sullivan 1990, 282 with 4469; also Mousheghian/ Depeyrot 1999, 44 and 157–159 (nos. 92– 95); contra Foss 1986, 48–50, whose objections are well founded but perhaps not decisive, and pace Bedoukian 1978, 9–12 and 46f. (nos. 3–6), who unconvincingly tries to assign the coins to Tigranes’ putative father. De Callataÿ 1997 fails to discuss the series in his treatment of Tigranes’ coinage (pp. 215–233). 60 Cf. also App. Mithr. 82.368f., which is much less dramatic than Plutarch’s narrative. 61 Apart from the paragraphs following this statement, Plutarch’s point is also illustrated by Luc. 24.6 on the protagonist’s just treatment of the Sopheni and their glad welcome to his advancing army.

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cism of the proconsul’s personal shortcomings does Plutarch neglect to call attention to his virtues. Thus the key passage on the protagonist’s change of fortunes after the capture of Nisibis focuses not only on his distance from the common soldier, but also mentions his ajrethv and makroqumiva as a good leader as well as his impressive appearance, his qualities as a speaker, and his prudent (frovnimo") policies (Luc. 33.1; 33.3).62 Later on, the biographer makes another authorial statement about the success Lucullus might have had if he had been able to elicit affection on the part of his troops: “Had this quality been added to the other ones he possessed, which were so great and so many: courage, diligence, intelligence, justice (met’ ajndreiva", ejpimeleiva", sunevsew", dikaiosuvnh"), the Roman Empire would not have got the Euphrates as its boundary in Asia, but the farthest regions and the Hyrcanian Sea” (Luc. 36.5). This is not to say that Plutarch tries to gloss over Lucullus’ weaknesses or to undermine the substance of his criticism, which shall be dealt with in other chapters of the present enquiry.63 Nevertheless, it is significant that the protagonist’s positive qualities are highlighted even in predominantly negative contexts. After the proconsul’s recall as supreme commander in the war against Mithridates, his ability to confer benefactions on Greeks was evidently much reduced, the more so as Pompey sought to erode his predecessor’s position as a patron of individuals and communities in the East.64 As Plutarch shifts his focus of attention to the protagonist’s private life, the theme of Hellenism is accordingly continued on the level of the intellectual pursuits discussed in the preceding section. Still, it is worth emphasising that the biographer does not fail to note in passing that among Lucullus’ guests at Rome there were, as indicated above, not only scholars but also politicians (Luc. 42.2).

Hellenic Qualities and Biographical Characterisation At the beginning of the preceding section, it has been pointed out that the theme of philhellenic benefaction constitutes the nucleus of Plutarch’s conceptualisation of the Cimon – Lucullus. Accordingly, the Greek Life presents the protagonist as a proponent of pan-Hellenic unity against the Barbarian threat posed by the Persians rather than as a champion of Athenian interests within and without the Delian League.65 In various instances, the biographer underlines Cimon’s lenient treatment of the allies, praises his benefactions and generosity, and emphasises his general popularity, e.g., in the context of the dedication of three marble herms in the Agora (Cim. 7.4–8.2).66 Moreover, the writer from Chaero62

The passage is quoted and discussed in more detail in chapter 5 at n. 16. See chapter 4 and esp. chapter 5 as well as the discussion of Plutarch’s overall judgement in chapter 7 at nn. 3ff. 64 See chapter 6 at nn. 90ff. 65 See the remarks in chapter 1 at nn. 55ff., including references to secondary literature. 66 Cf. also Aischin. Ctes. 183–185. 63

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nea duly celebrates the victory over the Persians at the Eurymedon, and repeatedly points out that the protagonist is equal or superior to his father Miltiades and to Themistocles, who defended Athens and Greece at Marathon and Salamis.67 What is more, the mild qualities praised in Lucullus are frequently highlighted in his Greek pair, too.68 Early in the narrative, Plutarch stresses the popularity and affection acquired by Cimon among the Athenians on account of his mildness and simplicity (dia; pra/ovthta kai; ajfevleian) (Cim. 5.5). In contrast to the harshness and arrogance (calepovthta kai; uJperoyivan) displayed by the Spartan general Pausanias (Cim. 6.3), the protagonist “received with mildness (pra/vw") those who had suffered wrong, won them over by treating them humanely (filanqrwvpw"), and so, without anybody being aware of it, took over the leadership of Greece, not by force of arms, but by virtue of his words and character (lovgw/ kai; h[qei)” (Cim. 6.2).69 Later on, Cimon’s generosity towards his fellow citizens is highly praised as surpassing even the ancient hospitality and humanity of the Athenians (th;n palaia;n tw`n   A j qhnaivwn filoxenivan kai; filanqrwpivan),70 whereas the negative interpretation of his benefactions as acts of flattery and demagoguery is firmly rejected (Cim. 10.6–8).71 Furthermore, Plutarch’s account of his hero’s building activities includes a reference to the grove of the Academy (Cim. 13.7), thus creating a link with Lucullus’ Academic philosophy. As for the Athenian statesman’s education, the biographer cites the unfavourable judgement advanced by Stesimbrotus (Cim. 4.5), yet the point is not turned to the protagonist’s discredit. Later on, he specifically mentions Cimon’s ability to sing (Cim. 9.1),72 but otherwise fails to dwell on the subject, which for obvious reasons is generally accorded much more prominence in the Roman than in the Greek Lives.73 Beyond the pair of Cimon and Lucullus, the emphasis on Hellenic culture and paideiva needs to be contextualised within Plutarch’s social and intellectual environment. Writing in the period of the so-called Second Sophistic, the biographer is one of the major exponents of the revival of Greek Classicism in language and thought under the High Empire.74 Apart from the imperative of stylistic purism in imitation of classical Athenian authors, the writers of the Second Sophistic share a marked tendency to value the accomplishments of their ancestors 67 Eurymedon: Cim. 12.5–13.4; Luc. 45.1. Both Miltiades and Themistocles are referred to in Cim. 5.1; 8.1, only the latter in 5.5f.; 9.1; 12.2; 18.6f.; also 13.3. 68 On the prominence of pra/ovth" and filanqrwpiva in the syzygy cf. the references cited in chapter 1, n. 37. 69 For Cimon’s pra/ovth" towards the allies cf. also Cim. 16.3. 70 For Plutarch’s use of the palaioiv as models cf. Bréchet 2003, esp. 543–549. 71 For an analysis of Cimon’s rôle as benefactor in Plutarch and the parallel tradition cf. Schmitt Pantel 1992, 180–186. 72 Cf. also Per. 5.3. 73 Cf. Swain 1990, 129 and 134–136 = 1995, 234f. and 244–247. Also note Duff 1999, 264f. on the absence of the theme of paideiva from the synkriseis. 74 As for the term ‘Second Sophistic’, note the reservations expressed by Brunt 1994, whose general objections hardly affect the argument regarding Plutarch as advanced in the present section, though.

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of the fifth and fourth centuries, and to employ the historical conditions prevailing at that time as a frame of reference for approaching their own present.75 This focus on the classical as well as on the mythological age involves an acute awareness of the civilising qualities of Hellenic culture and the values commonly associated with it. In this context, concepts like pra/ovth" and filanqrwpiva play a vital rôle as markers of Greekness in opposition to characteristics such as u{bri" and trufhv, which are considered to belong to the Barbarian world.76 At the same time, it is important to conceive of the Second Sophistic not merely as a backward-looking expression of political and cultural nostalgia, but to understand the historical declamations performed by its protagonists as meaningful displays of power and erudition before a contemporary audience and according to contemporary standards.77 This double orientation towards past and present also leads to a redefinition of Greek identity under the Roman Empire.78 In the case of Plutarch, the issues raised by foreign rule are most openly addressed in the essay Praecepta gerendae rei publicae, which on the one hand reflects his dissatisfaction with the state of dependence and the resulting lack of liberty while on the other hand showing appreciation of stability and peace, not least with a view to the position of the aristocratic establishment within the Greek poleis.79 Evidently, this perspective is relevant to the Lives as well, even though there is no simple attempt to claim superiority for the Greek heroes but rather a tendency to consider the respective protagonists on equal terms.80 Still, the standards employed by the biographer are clearly shaped by his concept of Greekness, and it is therefore not surprising that philhellenism and paideiva constitute major themes especially in the Roman Lives. In other words, 75 Cf. generally Bowie 1970; Anderson 1993, esp. 101–132; Swain 1996, esp. 65–100; also Connolly 2001; further Whitmarsh 2001, esp. 41–89 as well as the summary treatments in Gascó 1998, esp. 1157–1159; Whitmarsh 2005, esp. 66–70, but also note the reservations voiced by Veyne 2005, 204–207, building on idem 1999, 535–537. 76 On Plutarch’s use of these oppositions cf. Schmidt 1999, esp. 22–25 and 53–56; also Nikolaidis 1986, esp. 239–241. On pra/ovth", filanqrwpiva, and related concepts in the biographer’s writings cf. Martin 1960; idem 1961; Panagopoulos 1977, 216–222; De Romilly 1979, 275–307; Frazier 1996, 231–239. 77 Cf. Schmitz 1997; idem 1999, who concentrates on power relations and discursive strategies, while Webb 2006 stresses the creative quality of declamatory performances beyond the imitation of the past. Also note Whitmarsh 2001, 90–130. 78 Apart from the references cited above, n. 75, cf. the contributions in Goldhill 2001; also Woolf 1994, esp. 125–132; Desideri 1998, esp. 75–87; further Bowie 1991. In addition, note Jones 2004 on the importance of local and regional identities; further Madsen 2006, who highlights the heterogeneity of Greek élite attitudes towards Rome. 79 Cf. esp. mor. 813d–814c and 824c–f. Plutarch’s bitterness and sense of humiliation are emphasised by Halfmann 2002, 87–95; also R.-Alföldi 1994; Durán López 2004, 36–41, whereas Jones 1971, 117–121; also Palm 1959, 36–38; Carrière 1977, 242–244; Boulogne 1994, 35– 45 stress his acceptance of Roman rule and its rôle in perpetuating the established order. A more balanced position is assumed by Swain 1996, 161–186; also Duff 1999, 293–298. Further note Nörr 1969, 85–94. On Plutarch’s view of the relationship between the local aristocracy and the people see chapter 4 at n. 76. 80 This is most obvious in the synkriseis. See chapter 3 at n. 44.

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Plutarch’s categories, while reflecting a pronounced cultural bias, are applied universally and serve to judge both Greeks and non-Greeks on the basis of their actual behaviour and with a view to their attitude towards Hellenic culture in particular.81 Consequently, it is with reference to the personalities of the individual Lives that the problems relating to Roman rule are addressed, including obvious cases of maladministration, exploitation, and violence as well as questions concerning the adoption of Greek moral and cultural values by the representatives of the Mediterranean superpower. As Swain has demonstrated, the degree of absorption of Hellenic culture accordingly serves as a crucial element in the biographer’s construction and evaluation of character in the Roman Lives.82 It is against this background that Plutarch investigates the above-discussed cases of Marius and Lucullus from the angle of Greek paideiva as a means of measuring their ability to control passionate impulses and to curb their filotimiva.83 More broadly, the treatment of Greeks and the readiness to promote Hellenic culture are commonly connected with the question of education and with the character attributes associated with Greek civilisation. Thus Marcellus, who is presented from the start as swvfrwn and filavnqrwpo" and as an enthusiast for Hellenic paideiva and lovgoi (Marc. 1.3), is not only praised for his mildness and humanity, but even credited with educating the Romans by introducing Greek culture to the city – notwithstanding the fact that he was responsible for war atrocities in Sicily and the plundering of Syracuse.84 To the degree that Plutarch’s Roman heroes display pra/ovth" and filanqrwpiva as well as related qualities like ejpieivkeia, crhstovth", and dikaiosuvnh, they have the potential to become like Greeks. In the case of Numa, who is idealised as a just king and institution builder, the biographer even expresses the remarkable judgement that he was “more Hellenic (eJllhnikwvteron)” a lawgiver than his equally idealised pair Lycurgus (Num. 23.10).85 Although Plutarch regularly highlights Greek paideiva or notes its absence in the Roman protagonists, this does not imply that he is very much interested in their philosophy. In the biographies dedicated to Cicero, Cato the Younger, and Brutus, who all enjoyed a certain reputation in this respect, he does not fail to mention their intellectual pursuits, but like in many other Roman Lives this 81 Cf. Duff 1999, 287–309; Preston 2001, 97–109; Goldhill 2002, 254–271; Roskam 2004, 255–264; also D’Ippolito 2005, 182–186; more generally Whitmarsh 2001, 116–129. 82 Cf. Swain 1990, esp. 129 = 1995, 234f.; also idem 1996, 139–144. 83 Cf. Swain 1990, 131–134 = 1995, 239–243; Pelling 1989 passim; more generally Duff 1999, 72–89; further Frazier 1988, 119–127. 84 Pra/ovth" and filanqrwpiva: Marc. 10.6; 23.8; also 20.1; further Fab. 22.8. Hellenisation of Rome: Marc. 21; further Fab. 22.7f. – contrast Polyb. 9.10; Liv. 25.40.1–3; also 27.16.7f. Cf. Pelling 1989, 199–208; Swain 1990, 140–142 = 1995, 254–259; also García Moreno 1995, 138f.; idem 1996, 361–363; idem 2002, 264–266; Beck 2002, 481–486; idem 2003, 255–259; further Ferrary 1988, 573–578; Gruen 1992, 94–102. For a different interpretation cf. Gros 1979; McDonnell 2006, esp. 82–85, who both seek to demonstrate that Plutarch’s account actually echoes the political and ideological strategy pursued by Marcellus at the time. 85 For the converse possibility of Greeks being ‘Barbarised’ cf. Pelegrín Campo 1997, 374f.

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mainly serves to evaluate their character and their qualities as statesmen.86 From this perspective, the criterion of Greek education and philosophical training is generally applicable to Plutarch’s heroes, including of course Lucullus, without much regard for their scholarly competence and the actual significance of their studies.

Philhellenism Revisited: Image and Function While the previous section has served to outline the context of Plutarch’s elaboration of the theme of Hellenism in the Lucullus, the following discussion shall attempt to trace its origins in late Republican discourse and analyse its importance to the Roman noble’s policies and self-fashioning. Of course, this is not meant to invalidate the preceding points about the purpose and function of the theme within the biographer’s composition, yet the emphasis on Lucullus’ philhellenism cannot properly be understood without looking at sources beyond Plutarch and without considering the nature of the material at his disposal. First of all, it needs to be pointed out that Lucullus’ benefactions and friendly relations with Greek communities are corroborated by a substantial number of honorary inscriptions and other sources, including some references in Appian to grants of libertas and to games celebrated in honour of the proconsul.87 This material and its significance as well as its limitations shall be discussed in more detail in chapter 6, but in the present context it is important to appreciate that Plutarch actually uses the language of praise employed by the beneficiaries of Lucullus’ policies themselves, who indeed honoured him as eujergevth", swthvr, and pavtrwn. Apart from this, narrative sources other than Plutarch betray a desire to eulogise the proconsul’s achievements in their accounts of the conquest of Mithridates’ kingdom. Appian in particular parallels the biographer in recounting the prodigy of the general’s visionary encounter with Autolycus in the context of the capture and restoration of Sinope (Mithr. 83.370–372). In the same chapter, the historian from Alexandria, like Plutarch, connects the commander’s sympathy towards the inhabitants of Amisus with the city’s historical ties to Athens, and further mentions his ambition to emulate Alexander the Great (Mithr. 83.373f.).88 Echoes of this laudatory tradition can also be detected in the less detailed narratives of Memnon and Orosius, who both allude to the proconsul’s favourable attitude towards the citizens of the Pontic poleis.89 In Plutarch’s version of the seizure of Amisus, it is not Alexander but Lucullus’ political mentor Sulla who is invoked as a model for the protagonist’s wish to save the city from destruction (Luc. 19.5) – a rather unexpected connex86

Cf. Pelling 1989, 216–232; Swain 1990a with references and discussion. See chapter 6 at nn. 23ff. with references. 88 For the parallel passages in Plutarch (Luc. 19; 23.2–6) see above at nn. 50ff., as well as the following discussion. Lucullus’ association with Alexander is treated in chapter 6 at nn. 84ff. 89 Cf. Memnon, F 30.4; 37.8; Oros. 6.3.3. Also note Strab. 12.3.11. 87

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ion which is exceedingly unlikely to have been made by anyone but the proconsul himself.90 Likewise, the biographer’s account of the episode involving Autolycus is followed by a remark on the advice of Sulla concerning the significance of dreams (Luc. 23.6).91 Beyond the presence of the former dictator, the versions provided by Plutarch and Appian also differ in terms of their integration into the chronological sequence of the war, yet they are so similar in tone and judgement that they must be assumed to have been elaborated on the basis of the same stock of contemporary material.92 The original source of this glorification of Lucullus’ exploits and benefactions as well as of the references to Sulla must be connected with the propaganda disseminated by the commander and his entourage. In particular, the general’s retinue included the aforementioned Archias and Antiochus of Ascalon, who are both known to have written about the proconsul’s accomplishments in eulogising terms.93 This background not only accounts for the nature of the material underlying Plutarch’s pattern of praise for his hero’s philhellenism, but also readily explains the corresponding blackening of Mithridates’ and especially of Tigranes’ records as anti-Hellenic and tyrannical potentates. Consequently, it is clear that the exigencies of war propaganda in the struggle with the two kings must be regarded as one of the driving forces behind the persistent emphasis on Lucullus’ euergetism. In this context, it is important to understand that Greek and non-Greek allies played a central rôle as providers of financial, political, and military resources on both sides of the conflict, and that the fighting was accompanied by a battle for the hearts and minds of local decision-makers.94 If Lucullus, like Pompey and others, acted as the “champion and protector of Greek civilisation in the Orient”,95 this reflects the political, cultural, and ideological setting of Graeco-Roman relations in the first century and should primarily be interpreted as a means of furthering the war effort against the Eastern kings and of accumulating personal power and prestige.96 As shall be argued in chapter 6, this is the broader framework that set the parameters of the exchange relationship built around the proconsul’s benefactions and the gratitude of the people in Asia Minor.

90 On Lucullus’ closeness to Sulla see chapter 4 at nn. 3ff., in particular at n. 22 on the latter’s reputation for cruelty. 91 Cf. also Sull. 6.10. 92 Cf. Mastrocinque 1999, 108: “Appiano sembra avvicinarsi alla tradizione encomiastica presente in Plutarco”. 93 See chapter 1 at nn. 69f. and chapter 6 at nn. 49ff. Also note Cic. ac. pr. 4: Lucullus’ deeds fere sunt et Graecis litteris celebrata et Latinis. 94 See the discussion in chapter 6, esp. at n. 19 on Plut. Luc. 29.6–10. 95 Van Ooteghem 1959, 203: “le champion et le protecteur de la civilisation grecque en Orient”; Piccirilli 1990, xxv: “campione e protettore della civiltà ellenica”. Cf. also Mommsen 1909, 70: “Schirmherr der hellenischen Fürsten und Bürgerschaften”. 96 On the political dimension of Roman philhellenism cf. esp. Ferrary 1988, 96–117 and passim. In general, ‘sentimental’ considerations played a very limited rôle. Cf. Badian 1970, 53– 57; Gruen 1984, 267–272; Errington 1999; also Petrochilos 1974, 105–111.

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In so far as the advertisement of Lucullus’ philhellenism was an item of war propaganda, there is no doubt that it was essentially targeted at a Greek audience. However, this does not imply that the proconsul’s affinity for Hellenic culture and the power and status deriving from his following in the East were not at the same time meant to impress the public at Rome. To be sure, the attitude towards the Greek world prevailing among Romans during the late Republic remained ambiguous as admiration for the classical past and its cultural achievements was mixed with contempt for the contemporary state of political affairs in the East and the supposedly corrupting influence of philosophy and trufhv.97 While Greek thought was not rejected outright, it was commonly considered to need adaptation to the practical exigencies of Roman political and social life. Significantly, antiHellenic reservations thus performed a key function in the assertion of native traditions and mos maiorum.98 Still, Greek ideas could not only be presented as signs of decadence, but were also relevant to the image of late Republican aristocrats as distinguished men of power, status, and cultural refinement. Humanitas, temperantia, and related concepts clearly owed much to the definition of their Greek equivalents, yet they appeared sufficiently attractive to a Roman audience to enable Cicero heavily to build on them in his idealised depiction of Pompey as a virtuous general and administrator in the speech on the Manilian law.99 Greek modes of behaviour could thus contribute to the construction of Romanness, though being Roman also implied the ability to determine the appropriate occasions for switching between the respective cultural codes.100 Consequently, the advertisement of philhellenism and the presence of Greek intellectuals in the retinue of late Republican nobles was intended to further the latter’s political objectives and to enhance their reputation both in the capital and in the Hellenistic world. Against this background, it is clear that the emphasis on Lucullus’ Hellenism in Plutarch’s Life cannot be considered “adventitious”. To be sure, it is important to understand that the biographer readily exploited the encomiastic tradition traced above and purposefully elaborated the relevant material in a way that mirrors his desire both to exalt the benefactor of his home town and to explore certain character traits in accordance with his own interests. However, the analysis of his techniques and emphases should not lead to neglect the historical conditions of the protagonist’s late Republican environment. Above all, it must not 97 Cf. Petrochilos 1974; Wardman 1976, esp. 1–60; Balsdon 1979, 30–52; Gruen 1984, 250– 266; MacMullen 1991; also Jocelyn 1976/77, 358–365, who stresses the anti-Hellenic element. Gruen 1990, 158–192 suggests a “marked maturation” (p. 158) of Roman attitudes in the course of the second and early first centuries; to the same effect Veyne 1979, 14–29. Further note Rawson 1985, 3–18, who outlines the intensification of interaction between Roman aristocrats and Greek intellectuals towards the end of the Republic. 98 Cf. Gruen 1992, 223–271, also 52–83 on Cato the Elder; Vogt-Spira 1996; Jehne 1999. Further note Gehrke 1994 on the use of Greek ethics to stabilise Roman values. 99 Cf. Manil. 13; 36–42, and Gruber 1988; also Rothe 1978, 60–66; further Steel 2001, 130– 135; more generally Hellegouarc’h 1963, 254–274. 100 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1998a.

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be overlooked that the theme of Hellenism is anchored in a more widespread tradition, the basic outline of which goes back to the self-image propagated by Lucullus and his entourage. Accordingly, Swain’s argument about Plutarch’s fundamental distortion of the material, which fails to consider the laudatory elements in Appian and the relevant inscriptions, is essentially based on an incomplete reading of the evidence. Nevertheless, it would be a misunderstanding to conclude that the praise heaped on Lucullus by Plutarch and others should be taken to attest that the proconsul’s benefactions were driven by what Rainer Bernhardt has called “genuine philhellenism” in the sense of a personal disposition on the part of the late Republican noble.101 While it is true that Hellenism was one of the forces shaping Lucullus’ identity as a cultured Roman aristocrat, Bernhardt’s judgement represents a rather naive view based on an uncritical interpretation of the sources, as shall emerge more clearly in chapter 6 on the meaning of the general’s policies towards individuals and communities in the East. Certainly, Lucullus did wish to pay homage to Hellenic culture, but this needs to be considered as an objective that reflects both political imperatives and the socio-cultural environment of the late Republic.

101 Cf. Bernhardt 1971, 134–143, quotation 139: “echten Philhellenismus”, and see chapter 6 at nn. 5ff. Also note Petrochilos 1974, 85f. on the consular’s private life: “Lucullus himself seems to have deliberately oriented this way of life – which was in some measure his own creation – towards the Greeks of his own day, though without severing connections completely with Roman friends and Roman public life”.

3. LUCULLUS AND TRYPHÊ Towards the end of the first century, the Augustan writer Nicolaus of Damascus castigated Lucullus for being the pioneer of extravagance at Rome: “After Lucullus returned to Rome, celebrated his triumph, and rendered an account of the war against Mithridates, he abandoned the old-time temperance (ejk th`" palaia`" swfrosuvnh") and drifted into an extravagant mode of life (eij" polutelh` divaitan), becoming in every way the foremost guide to luxury among the Romans (trufh`" te prw`ton eij" a{pan JRwmaivoi" hJgemovna genevsqai), since he had harvested for himself the wealth of the two kings Mithridates and Tigranes” (FGrH 90, F 77a).1 This judgement in many ways epitomises the socio-cultural background to Lucullus’ association with wealth, luxury, and profligacy. Being the first to accomplish a particular deed, to discover a particular item, or to advance to a particular place represents an achievement easily incorporated into the exempla tradition and preserved in collections of memorabilia, and hence frequently mentioned without much contextualisation. In a negative sense, Roman writers commonly highlighted certain instances as marking their people’s first encounter with wealth, precious objects, and Eastern luxury so as to trace the origins of the supposed process of moral decline. This interpretative pattern allowed them to denounce the current state of affairs while at the same time reasserting the validity of ancestral values and thus (re)constructing an idealised past as their principal frame of reference. The nature, content, and scope of this discourse shall be explored more fully later in this chapter. As for Lucullus himself, various sources have him discover three particular novelties, all of which were presumably connected with the idea of trufhv and may therefore be associated with the tradition represented by Nicolaus: Lucullus as the first Roman general to encounter camels, Lucullus as the person who imported the cherry to Europe, and Lucullus as the first man to introduce black marble to Rome.2 While the latter two items rather obviously exemplify architectural extravagance and culinary delights, it is surely significant that the camels reappear in a speech ascribed to the young Clodius as carrying the riches acquired by the proconsul on campaign (Plut. Luc. 34.4).3 1 Quoted in Athen. 12.543a as well as 6.274e–f; similarly Vell. 2.33.4, discussed below after n. 90. Cf. Zecchini 1995, 594–599, who conjectures that the fragment is derived from Sallust’s Histories; also Lind 1979, 7–9, who ascribes it to Posidonius. 2 Camels: Plut. Luc. 11.6 = Sall. hist. frg. 3.42 Maur. = 3.29 McGush.; Amm. 23.6.56; cherry: Plin. nat. 15.102; Athen. 2.50f–51a (which Zecchini 1995, 592–594 considers to be another Sallustian fragment); Tert. apol. 11.8; Amm. 22.8.16; Isid. orig. 17.7.16; marble: Plin. nat. 36.49f. For the connexion with the notion of u{bri" and the negative tradition on Lucullus cf. also the brief remarks in Ballesteros Pastor 1999, 337f. 3 The passage is quoted in chapter 5 at n. 1.

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Both in the ancient sources and in modern scholarship, traces of the tradition on Lucullus’ trufhv are remarkably widespread and usually impact greatly on judgements of his personality. Most consequentially, some of the final chapters of Plutarch’s Lucullus heap severe censure on the retired consular, who is depicted as a dissolute bon vivant. On the other hand, the modern standard view is mirrored in an observation of Ronald Syme’s, who once noted that Lucullus “transmitted to posterity not the memory of talent and integrity, but the eternal exemplar of luxury”.4 As shall emerge from the following analysis, however, the material adduced to underpin this assessment is predominantly anecdotal and largely rests on contemporary propaganda which quickly became fossilised in a rather limited stock of exempla.

Sobriety and Degeneration As far as Lucullus’ way of life is concerned, Plutarch’s biographical treatment is neatly divided into two sharply contrasting units. While the first part is preoccupied with public affairs and touches on problems relating to luxury merely indirectly by way of highlighting the trufhv of the hero’s negative foils, the protagonist’s own extravagance only comes to the fore in the final chapters of the Life. The transition between the two sections is signalled by a general discussion of the merits and pitfalls involved in retirement from public life (Luc. 38.2–5), and ends with a comparison of Lucullus’ biography to an old-style comedy structured by an antithesis between ta; me;n prw`ta of political and military activity and ta; d’ u{stera of leisure and childish play (paidiavn) (Luc. 39.1). Prior to this dividing line, Lucullus is at times even presented as being averse to the pursuit of pleasure. The whole account of the proquaestor’s negotiations with Ptolemy IX during the First Mithridatic War is shaped by a contrast between the ostentatious courtesy of his Egyptian host on the one hand and his own businesslike approach to diplomacy on the other (Luc. 2.6–3.1). While the king is described as being at pains to give Lucullus a splendid reception and to treat him with exceptional kindness, hospitality, and generosity, his Roman guest not only rejects a number of precious gifts, but also declines a trip to Memphis and other places of interest.5 The latter he is said to have ruled out on account of Sulla’s need for prompt assistance in the struggle against Mithridates, judging that such an excursion was the privilege “of a leisurely and luxurious (scolavzonto" ... kai; trufw`nto") sight-seer” (Luc. 2.9). Conspicuously, Lucullus himself is thus reported to have employed the expression trufw`n in a disapproving fashion. Several factors may account for the structure and emphases of Plutarch’s narrative. In the first place, the stress on the protagonist’s conscientious and incorruptible commitment to Sulla suggests that the biographer’s account echoes 4

Syme 1939, 23. On the ambiguity of gifts presented to Romans by friendly kings cf. Braund 1984, 58f. and passim. 5

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Lucullus’ own version of events as related to his superior.6 Whether Sulla’s envoy was really quite as eager to rush back to his commander-in-chief as Plutarch implies has been questioned on the grounds that Cicero’s Academica have Lucullus engage in lengthy philosophical debates at Alexandria (ac. pr. 11f.), yet this can hardly be considered a chronologically accurate piece of evidence.7 Be that as it may, it ought to be noted that the striking contrast between Roman bluntness and Ptolemaic opulence constitutes a recurrent feature in accounts of Rome’s encounters with Hellenistic monarchs. Apparently, this antithesis rests both on well-established topoi and on real differences in political outlook, cultural setting, and diplomatic style.8 Above all, however, it is significant that Plutarch selected and adapted the episode to suit his biographical portrait, his moral interpretation, and the compositional framework of the Cimon – Lucullus. In the pair’s synkrisis, he expressly sets Cimon’s youthful debauchery against Lucullus’ degeneration in old age, alluding to the change (metabolhv) in their respective lifestyles, and exploring its moral implications (Luc. 44.4). To substantiate his argument in favour of the pattern exemplified by the Greek, Plutarch not only denounces Lucullus’ extravagant excesses at the end of his life, but actually characterises his early years as contrarily inspired by paideiva and temperance (pepaideumevnh kai; swvfrwn). In his concluding observations, the biographer goes as far as to suggest that there could not have been any recriminations whatsoever regarding Lucullus’ lavish lifestyle if he had passed away whilst being in military command (Luc. 44.8). Accordingly, the Egyptian episode forms part of a more comprehensive biographical design in which trufhv is associated with various groups and individuals confronted by Lucullus. Thus at the outset of the Third Mithridatic War, the newly appointed proconsul is commended for reforming the Roman soldiers in Asia Minor, who are depicted as “corrupted by luxury and greed (trufai`" diefqorovtwn kai; pleonexivai")” and “accustomed to take the field as they pleased (pro;" hJdonhvn)” (Luc. 7.1–3). Similarly, it is “through wealth and luxurious life (uJpo; plouvtou kai; trufh`")” that the troops are later reported as having become “averse to military service and desirous of leisure (scolh`")” (Luc. 30.5). Apart from conforming to the common notion of corruption among the late Republican soldiery, this interpretation brings charges against the legionaries that may well be influenced by Lucullus’ own reconstruction; for they respond to the accusations of avarice and self-indulgence that were levelled at the general himself.9 6

Sulla’s memoirs have repeatedly been identified as a likely source of the early chapters of the Lucullus. See chapter 4 at n. 23. 7 Cf. Villoresi 1939, 441; Van Ooteghem 1959, 28; also Gelzer 1926, 377f.; Heinen 1963, 129; pace Olshausen 1963, 17 with n. 23. Keaveney 1992, 24 tries to reconcile the two accounts by suggesting that the proquaestor only spent his “free moments” conversing with philosophers. On Cicero’s presentation of Lucullus as a scholar see chapter 2 at nn. 18ff. 8 Cf., e.g., the accounts of the embassy of Scipio Aemilianus to Egypt in 140/39 (esp. Diod. 33.28a.1–3), with the discussion in Heinen 1983. Also note the contrast between Appius Claudius and Tigranes in Plut. Luc. 21, on which see below. 9 See chapter 5, esp. before n. 39.

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In Plutarch’s narrative, these latter complaints against the proconsul are repeatedly raised by the demagogues at Rome and combine the allegations of filarciva and filoploutiva (Luc. 33.5).10 The charge of personal enrichment also figures prominently in the aforementioned speech ascribed to Clodius and among the grievances voiced by the commander’s disaffected soldiers (Luc. 34.4; 35.5). However, the biographer cites these attacks with varying degrees of disapproval and employs them to discredit the opposition to Lucullus rather than the general himself. In particular, Clodius is disdainfully presented as “a man of wanton behaviour (ajnh;r uJbristhv") and full of all contempt and boldness” (Luc. 34.1).11 Significantly, the accusations against the general’s conduct of the war are only attributed to those who are themselves described as being utterly corrupt. At the same time, they serve to foreshadow the focus on Lucullus’ extravagance in the final chapters of the Life and further accentuate the dichotomy between his original sobriety and subsequent degeneration. Earlier in the narrative, the ‘demagogue’ Cethegus is introduced as another foil for Lucullus, who supposedly “loathed his manner of life, full as it was of disgraceful amours and wanton transgressions (bivon aijscrw`n ejrwvtwn kai; u{brew" kai; plhmmeleiva" mestovn)” (Luc. 5.4). Cethegus’ moral defects are reinforced by his alleged dependence on a woman called Praecia, “a pompous and ostentatious woman (gunaiki; sobara/` kai; panhgurikh/`)”, who is said to have controlled political affairs at Rome through his agency (Luc. 6.2–4).12 Nevertheless, Lucullus undertakes to enlist her support in order to be assigned the governorship of Cilicia, yet even before introducing the disreputable woman Plutarch is at pains to assert that his hero acted “contrary to his nature (para; th;n eJautou` fuvsin)”.13 What is more, the depiction of Praecia fits into the biographer’s pattern of censure for the dissolute ways of various female characters appearing in the Life. In the very first chapter, Lucullus’ mother Caecilia is thus introduced as “standing in ill repute for having led an intemperate life (ouj bebiwkui`a swfrovnw")” (Luc. 1.1). A similar verdict is given on the protagonist’s two wives: while Clodia, “a most licentious (ajkolastotavthn) woman”, is denigrated along with her brother Clodius, Lucullus’ second wife Servilia is described as basically exhibiting the same evils as Clodia, and as being equally loathsome and licentious (bdelura;n ... kai; ajkovlaston) (Luc. 34.1; 38.1).14 Beyond this, the proconsul’s external enemies are depicted in a way that reflects certain topoi of Barbarian opulence, pomp, and luxury.15 Following the 10 11

See chapter 4 at nn. 43ff. with further references. For a fuller discussion of the depiction of the soldiers and of Clodius’ speech see chapter

5. 12 For the topos of women’s association with power and immorality cf., e.g., Sall. Cat. 25 on Sempronia, and the portrayals of Fulvia and Cleopatra in Plut. Ant. 10.5f.; 25–29, and passim. 13 Cf. also Cic. parad. 40, and see chapter 4 at nn. 39f. on the political side of the episode. 14 Also note the stress on Cimon’s improper relations with women in Cim. 4.6–10; 15.3f.; Luc. 44.7. On the various rôles played by female characters in the Lives cf. Le Corsu 1981. 15 For trufhv as a Barbarian characteristic in Plutarch cf. Schmidt 1999, 107–139; also Nikolaidis 1986, 236–238.

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account of the restoration of discipline in the Roman army at the beginning of the Third Mithridatic War, the Pontic forces are said to have overcome their erstwhile inefficiency caused by disorganisation, ostentatious armour, and dysfunctional equipment (Luc. 7.4–6). Moreover, the characterisation of Tigranes as a Barbarian tyrant heavily builds on the notion of u{bri" and emphasises his arrogance, his arbitrary use of power, and the pompous façade of his reign.16 By contrast, the Roman envoy Appius Claudius is presented as blunt, practical, and unimpressed by the splendour of the Armenian court in a manner reminiscent of Lucullus’ conduct at Alexandria (Luc. 21).17 In Plutarch’s narrative, the transition to the protagonist’s own trufhv is prepared by the detailed description of Lucullus’ splendid triumph (Luc. 37.3–6).18 As the event is still covered before the aforementioned dividing line, the biographer readily emphasises the decoration of the Circus Flaminius with enemy arms and engines of war while pointing out that the actual procession was not particularly astounding. Nevertheless, the ensuing enumeration of precious objects does convey the impression of a magnificent spectacle. Furthermore, in the preceding chapter Plutarch suggests that Crassus was induced to undertake his Parthian campaign not least by the wealth brought to Rome by Lucullus and by the display of treasures in his triumph (Luc. 36.6).19 Paradoxically, the general’s own way of life, too, is supposed to have been affected by Oriental luxury only after his return to Italy, yet this is clearly part of the topos that underlies the tradition represented by Nicolaus and others. Following some of the above-cited comments on the protagonist’s wives, Plutarch moves on to his hero’s alleged withdrawal from public life. Initially, his discussion of Lucullus’ motives for retiring appears remarkably non-committal inasmuch as it neutrally presents two alternative explanations: the consular’s insight into the ‘disease’ of the state on the one hand and his longing for a life of ease and softness on the other (Luc. 38.2).20 Both positions are amplified and adapted in the remainder of the chapter, which is antithetically arranged so as to contrast the praise accorded to Lucullus by oiJ mevn with the scorn poured on him by oiJ dev. From the design of the following argument it appears, however, that Plutarch was not primarily concerned to determine whether to commend or condemn Lucullus; for neither in the present context nor in the synkrisis is there any doubt about the author’s disapproval of the protagonist’s self-indulgence. Rather the biographer seems to shape the discussion with a view to raising two moral issues of a general nature: the control of filotimiva and the control over one’s sensual desires. While the former point is discussed at length with reference to the careers 16

See chapter 2 at nn. 56ff. with references. On Appius’ mission see also chapter 6 at nn. 61ff. 18 Cf. Hillman 1993, 216f.; Schmidt 1999, 121–124. Although Plutarch’s account abounds in detail, it may be of limited value in terms of factual accuracy. On descriptions of the Republican triumph as literary constructions by Greek writers cf. generally Itgenshorst 2005, 13–30; eadem 2006, 51–61. 19 Cf. also Crass. 18.4. 20 On the metaphor of the disease see chapter 7 at nn. 15 and 32ff. 17

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of Cicero, Scipio Aemilianus, and most notably Marius as examples of exaggerated ambition in old age,21 the latter is only briefly taken up by an aphorism ascribed to the partisans of Crassus and Pompey: “Lucullus was giving himself up to pleasure and extravagance (eij" hJdonh;n ... kai; polutevleian), as if for men of his years luxurious living (trufa`n) were not more unsuited to their age (par’ hJlikivan) than political and military activities” (Luc. 38.5).22 Evidently, it is the view expressed in their mockery which underpins Plutarch’s narrative in the ensuing chapters (Luc. 39–41). Still, the concern about excessive ambition is not simply discarded, but resurfaces in a comment on the political side of the protagonist’s retirement: according to the biographer, Lucullus had left to others “the ambitious struggle (filotimivan kai; a{millan) for supremacy and power since he saw that it was neither free from danger nor from offence (ou[t’ ajkivndunon ou[t’ ajnuvbriston)” (Luc. 42.4). Shortly thereafter, the final step in the consular’s withdrawal from public affairs occurs against the backdrop of his abortive opposition to the ambitious designs of Pompey (Luc. 43.1). As has been pointed out in chapter 2, moreover, the preceding treatment of the protagonist’s intellectual pursuits (Luc. 42.1–4) recalls a remark from the beginning of the Life which connects Lucullus’ philosophical interests with his “giving timely (ejn kairw/`) halt and check to the play of his ambition (to; filovtimon)” (Luc. 1.6).23 Rather than confining himself to the supposed alternative formulated in the comment on his hero’s change of lifestyle, Plutarch chooses to explore the moral questions raised by Lucullus’ retirement on various levels.24

Extravagance and Censure Following the dividing line between the two phases of the protagonist’s career, Plutarch inveighs against his sumptuous banquets, his lavish buildings, and the immoderate use he made of his wealth. Being the most comprehensive among the extant accounts of Lucullus’ extravagance, this treatment has done much to perpetuate his association with luxury to the present. Notwithstanding the biographer’s explicit division of his hero’s life into two parts, however, the discussion of the consular’s trufhv actually occupies less than a tenth of the chapters of the

21

On the significance of the comparison with Marius see chapter 2 at nn. 8ff. Likewise Pomp. 48.7; mor. 204b (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata); 785f (An seni sit gerenda res publica), none of them mentioning Crassus. See also below at nn. 56f. The omission of Pompey’s wealthy ally in these versions is likely to be due to Plutarch’s desire to suppress the rôle of a complicating extra character. Cf. Pelling 1979, 77/ 2002, 4f. for further examples of this practice. On the contrast between Lucullus and Pompey see below at nn. 48ff., chapter 4 at nn. 47ff., and chapter 6 at nn. 90ff. For Plutarch’s judgement of behaviour par’ hJlikivan see the references cited below, n. 41. 23 On the control of filotimiva see also chapter 2 at nn. 6ff. and 83, as well as the next section. 24 Cf. the findings of Cacciari 1995, who stresses the complexity of the biographer’s treatment of old age in the Marius and in other Lives. 22

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Lucullus.25 As a corollary to his argument about the prominence of the theme of Hellenism, Simon Swain has cited the brevity of this section as suggesting that Plutarch intentionally downplayed the issue of luxury in order not to spoil the laudatory image of a politician revered in his home town.26 Yet upon closer analysis, this hypothesis does not seem to be very convincing; for not only does it underestimate the force of the biographer’s strictures, but it also fails to take into account the amount and nature of the material that underlies the representation of the protagonist’s retirement. In support of his proposition, Swain has called attention to the preponderance of references to Lucullus’ extravagance in the Moralia as opposed to a quantitative focus on Hellenic culture and benefactions in the Life. In fact, trufhv is the principal point of four out of a total of seven passages citing Lucullus in five essays of the Moralia.27 However, it ought to be noted that these references are confined to one or two paragraphs each, and serve to buttress specific arguments determined by the frameworks of the respective treatises. Neither do they therefore constitute a comprehensive interpretation of Lucullus’ final years, nor do they purport to do so. As shall be set out shortly, moreover, the concluding section of the Lucullus largely consists of anecdotal material which naturally lends itself to ad-hoc insertion into all kinds of contexts. Conspicuously, the stories cited in the Moralia are without exception contained in the biography as well, and hence furnish no grounds for suspecting that Plutarch endeavoured to spare his hero embarrassing details in the Life.28 Far from indicating an abundant stock of information, the rehearsal of the same isolated anecdotes in various essays rather attests to the popularity of a general notion associating Lucullus with trufhv – an argument that shall be developed later in this chapter. At all events, the total number of references is not particularly impressive and should caution against drawing sweeping inferences. What is more, Plutarch’s comments on Lucullus’ retirement are consistently couched in disapproving terms not only in the Moralia but also in the Lucullus as well as in the Pompeius. In the latter Life, the biographer contrasts Lucullus’ 25 The proportion of space devoted to the topic in the synkrisis – one chapter out of three – is significantly higher, but this may be a red herring. See the conclusions drawn at the end of this section. 26 Cf. Swain 1990, 144 = 1995, 261f.; idem 1992, 312–316; also Pelling 1997, 239–242/ 2002, 373–375; Duff 1999, 59f.; Sirinelli 2000, 306. For Swain’s argument regarding the theme of Hellenism see chapter 2, esp. at n. 27, further the discussion in chapter 7 at nn. 2ff. 27 Mor. 204b (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata); 782f (Ad principem ineruditum); 785f–786a; 792b–c (An seni sit gerenda res publica). The remaining references are to the battle of Tigranocerta (203a–b, Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata), and to Lucullus’ close association with his brother (484d–e, De fraterno amore) and with Sulla respectively (805e–f, Praecepta gerendae rei publicae). 28 Interestingly, the two episodes on Lucullus’ self-indulgence that are recorded in the Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata belong to the collection of Pompey’s sayings, not to the much briefer one of Lucullus’ own dicta. Cf. Pelling 2002b, 8958, who cites this as an example of the omission of morally discreditable stories from the Apophthegmata.

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general inertia with his zealous efforts at thwarting Pompey’s designs, denouncing him as “already being dulled and chilled in practical matters (ajmblu;" ... kai; katevyukto to; praktikovn)” save for his personal vendetta against the triple triumphator (Pomp. 46.6; also 48.7). Similarly, Lucullus is picturesquely described as “dead and wasted away, like sponges in calm seas” (Plut. mor. 792b) in the An seni sit gerenda res publica on account of his failure to measure up to the obligations of the politic man. Contrary to Plutarch’s philosophical ideal and the practical advice given in the treatise, he is alleged to have “given himself up to a life of inactivity (eij" bivon a[prakton), home-keeping, and thoughtlessness (a[frontin)”. Earlier in the same essay, the writer from Chaeronea imputes a detailed catalogue of unsuitable activities to Lucullus: baths, banquets, parties in the daytime, great listlessness, and the newfangled furnishing of buildings (mor. 785f). This latter passage evidently reflects a common technique of ancient invective, namely the combination of various similar charges of immorality that reinforce each other and serve to discredit the social behaviour, the personal integrity, and, by implication, the political ability of the accused.29 A comparable assortment of reproaches is employed in Plutarch’s introduction to the section on his hero’s degeneration in the Life: drinking bouts, banquets, almost revelries, torch races, and all manner of childish play (paidiavn) (Luc. 39.1). Likewise, the following chapter opens with a denunciation of Lucullus’ purple coverlets, beakers set with precious stones, dancing and theatrical recitations, as well as the preparation of all sorts of meat and extravagantly elaborated pastry (Luc. 40.1). This set of charges culminates in the ensuing comment on the consular’s “making himself the envy of the vulgar (zhlwto;n ajneleuqevroi")”, which clearly denigrates him by association. Patently, the biographer’s condemnation of these activities is unequivocal. At times, the negative tone of Plutarch’s censure is reinforced by attaching to Lucullus the stigma of Barbarism.30 Concluding his exposition of the protagonist’s trufhv, the biographer comments: “In these ways, then, Lucullus used his wealth wantonly (uJbristikw`"), as though it were in very truth something captured and Barbarian” (Luc. 41.7).31 In the synkrisis, Plutarch similarly accuses him of abusing his wealth by incurring great costs for a few luxurious livers (eij" ojlivgou" trufw`nta") (Luc. 44.5f.). Barbarian characteristics are in this instance ascribed to Lucullus’ table, which is denounced as extravagant and satrap-like (polutelh` kai; satrapikhvn).32 The association with the Barbarian world is 29 30

Cf. the remarks in Corbeill 1996, 134–139. For the nexus between trufhv and Barbarism in Plutarch cf. the references cited above,

n. 15. 31

For Plutarch’s views on the use of wealth cf. Desideri 1985; Frazier 1996, 149–156. Further note Edwards 1993, 186–190 on great expense as the object of invective at Rome. 32 For the association of Persia with luxury see below at nn. 65ff. Interestingly, the term satrap was also used to refer to Roman provincial governors. Cf. Mason 1970, 157; idem 1974, 83, and the remarks in Whitmarsh 2005, 66f. For Plutarch’s views on simplicity and excess in the context of banquets cf. Paul 1991, 160–162.

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further underlined by the biographer’s concomitant praise for Cimon’s arrangements, which he commends as being democratic and humane (dhmokratikh/` kai; filanqrwvpw/).33 As has been pointed out in chapter 2, moreover, the biographer also contrasts Lucullus’ lavish hospitality with the “genuinely Greek sentiments” of his disconcerted guests (Luc. 41.2),34 thus underlining the protagonist’s sudden distance from the mildness and moderation singled out for praise in much of the preceding narrative. Finally, Plutarch’s disapproval is expressed in philosophical terms as he draws a fundamental distinction between leisure, quiet, and study as a source of pleasure and contemplation on the one hand and the pursuit of pleasure as a goal in itself on the other. Having invoked the authority of Plato, the biographer affirms that “to divert fair achievements to pleasure as their final end (ejf’ hJdonh;n wJ" tevlo"), and then to spend the rest of one’s life, as a sequel to wars and fightings, celebrating Aphrodite’s festival, sporting, and living luxuriously (paivzein kai; trufa`n) is not worthy of the noble Academy, nor yet of one who would emulate Xenocrates, but rather of one who leaned towards Epicurus” (Luc. 44.3). This verdict carries all the more conviction, as Plutarch, who was himself a devoted adherent to Plato and the Academy, has previously depicted Lucullus as a follower of the same school (Luc. 42.3f.).35 The protagonist’s opposition to the doctrines of Plato thus brings out the ultimate perversion of the Hellenic qualities exhibited earlier in his career. Evidently, the biographer’s philosophical convictions and his fundamental opposition to Epicureanism called for a distinctly negative judgement on Lucullus’ hedonism.36 While Plutarch does not, as a matter of principle, object to the enjoyment of pleasures and therefore also rejects the ascetic rigourism of the Stoics, he consistently condemns the pursuit of hJdonhv as an end in itself.37 Taking a firm anti-Epicurean stance, he believes that the noblest pleasures are not related to any physical state, but can only be attained by means of intellectual and public activities.38 Significantly, these fields are also essential to Plutarch’s own way of life as a scholar and politician cherishing a vision of local autonomy for the Greek poleis under the Empire.39 In particular, the aristocrat from Chaeronea expects 33 Cf. also the similar contrast in mor. 616e–f (Quaestiones convivales), and the discussion in Vössing 2004, 226f. Further note Braund 1996, 51, who connects Plutarch’s antithesis with the discourse on imperial virtues and vices. For Cimon’s generosity and benefactions see chapter 2 at nn. 66ff. 34 See chapter 2 after n. 10. 35 See chapter 2 at nn. 12ff. 36 Cf. principally the treatises Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum, Adversus Colotem, and De latenter vivendo, as well as the detailed discussion in Boulogne 2003 and the summary treatment in Hershbell 1992, esp. 3372–3381 with further references. Also note Roskam 2005 on the various contexts of the attacks on Epicurus’ political philosophy. 37 On the tension between asceticism and anti-rigourism in Plutarch cf. Babut 1969, 342– 355; Martos Montiel 1999, 137–157. 38 Cf. esp. mor. 1092d–1100d (Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum), and Martos Montiel 1999, 57–69 and 114–131; Vaux 2001; Boulogne 2003, 151–182. 39 See chapter 2 at n. 79 and chapter 4 at n. 76 with references.

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old men to play a central rôle in the management of power and in the transmission of their experience to younger politicians.40 Given that Lucullus, who had seemingly retired from public life, failed to meet these requirements, Plutarch naturally criticises his supposed detachment from state affairs both in the Moralia and in the Lives.41 However, as has been indicated in the previous section, this does not prevent the biographer from addressing the issues involved in retirement from a more complex perspective. Thus in the An seni sit gerenda res publica, which strongly advocates lifelong political activity, Plutarch not only employs Lucullus as a negative example of torpor in old age (mor. 785f–786a; 792b–c), but also gives a warning against the pitfalls of filarciva, polupragmosuvnh, and filotimiva, asserting that old men’s “love of precedence and power (to; filovprwton aujtw`n kai; fivlarcon) is held in no less disrepute by the others than other old men’s love of wealth and pleasure (to; filovplouton ... kai; filhvdonon)” (mor. 793e). Evidently, this framing of the problem corresponds to the discussion in the Lucullus (38.2– 5) outlined above, yet there is no doubt that the question of excessive ambition does not in any way undermine Plutarch’s censure of extravagance. In the Life, the biographer likewise does not limit himself to dwelling on the debauchery of the protagonist’s final years; for after censuring his hero’s selfindulgence, Plutarch also dedicates a chapter to his intellectual and public activities (Luc. 42).42 Of course, this involves giving some credit to Lucullus’ more respectable pursuits, but it does not mean that these features were simply fabricated by the writer from Chaeronea.43 Nor can they be taken to invalidate the biographer’s resolute criticism of the consular’s luxurious lifestyle. Rather Lucullus’ activities in the fields of philosophy and politics serve to present to Plutarch’s audience a viable alternative to the protagonist’s discreditable trufhv. This message is reinforced in the synkrisis when, as indicated above, Lucullus is contrasted unfavourably with Cimon in terms of character development, use of wealth, and way of living (Luc. 44.4–6). In the end, however, Plutarch concludes the treatment of his heroes’ divaita on a conciliatory note by speculating about the potential course of events provided that Cimon had lived on to retire and Lucullus had died in military command (Luc. 44.7f.). These final comments appear to rehabilitate the Roman to an extent that might seem unwarranted in view of the preceding argument. 40 Cf. esp. mor. 790c–791c; 795a–796a (An seni sit gerenda res publica), and Desideri 1986, 379–381, who characterises the system described by Plutarch as “una totale gerontocrazia”; also Byl 1977, 113–123. 41 This and other examples of behaviour contrary to the exigencies of old age are discussed in Byl 1977 110–113; Cacciari 1995, 377–380 and passim; Frazier 1996, 72–76. What is more, Plutarch’s attitude to a dissolute lifestyle is consistently negative with regard to his other heroes, too. Cf. the cases adduced by Cerezo Magán 1999. 42 See chapter 2 at nn. 14ff., below at nn. 95ff., and chapter 4 at nn. 69ff. 43 Contrast Swain 1990, 144 = 1995, 261f., who suggests that Plutarch only briefly explores the negative side of Lucullus’ retirement and continues: “Having established the facts, Plutarch then sets about restoring Lucullus’ reputation by focusing on his cultural attainments” (emphasis added); similarly idem 1992, 312f.

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Nevertheless, it would be simplistic to dismiss them as an ill-conceived attempt at concealing some of the negative traits of Lucullus’ personality, or at retracting the strictures passed upon him earlier on. While the biographer’s reflexions unquestionably help – perhaps unduly – to balance the judgement of the two protagonists,44 his main point is surely to emphasise their common susceptibility to pleasure as a way of bringing out the relevance of their experience to his audience. By suggesting that Cimon might have ended like Lucullus and vice versa, Plutarch encourages his readers to look at their examples as variations on a general problem of the human condition. This intention manifests itself in his accompanying observation on politically active and ambitious natures (tai`" politikai`" kai; filotivmoi" fuvsesin), who are said to enjoy other pleasures (hJdona;" eJtevra") instead of being exposed to the baser desires (tw`n ceirovnwn ejpiqumiw`n). Recalling Plutarch’s earlier comment on the pleasure to be derived from learning (Luc. 44.3), this passage hints at yet another prescription for avoiding the pitfalls of trufhv. In sum, a consistent pattern of censure for Lucullus’ debauchery emerges from the Plutarchan corpus as a whole. In the face of the biographer’s unambiguous disapproval, the aforementioned argument about the relative brevity of the treatment in the Lucullus loses much of its superficial appeal. One might object that the majority of the passages adduced in the foregoing discussion was derived from the synkrisis and therefore did not go a long way towards explaining the condensed description in the main body of the Life. As shall be argued presently, however, Plutarch’s presentation of Lucullus’ trufhv was to a large extent conditioned by the nature and scarcity of the sources at his disposal. Apparently, the limitations of this material precluded him from giving a more comprehensive account of the protagonist’s final years, though the evidence still allowed him to explore the moral implications of his hero’s degeneration. Naturally, this could most easily be done in the synkrisis, a whole chapter of which is devoted to the issues involved.

Anecdotes and Propaganda In contrast to the essentially chronological arrangement of the detailed account of Lucullus’ campaigns against Mithridates and Tigranes, the ensuing section on his trufhv lacks a unifying structure and largely builds on disjointed and anecdotal material.45 While anecdotes generally perform a crucial function in Plutarch’s 44 On equality of treatment in the Plutarchan synkriseis cf. Duff 1999, 257–262, who convincingly argues that this is meant to focus the reader’s attention on the moral issues involved. Also note Boulogne 1994, 62–69; idem 2000, who views the balanced comparisons as serving to construct an ideal third person transcending the cultural boundary between Greeks and Romans. 45 The configuration of the final section of the Lucullus thus resembles that of Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars, which are generally organised thematically rather than chronologically. Cf. Gascou 1984, 390–414 with ample references to the individual Lives. For a comparison between the biographical methods employed by Suetonius and Plutarch cf. Wardman 1974, 144–152.

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technique of characterisation and ethical evaluation,46 the absence of a clear narrative thread seems to indicate that the principal source underlying the coherent treatment of the Third Mithridatic War failed to deal with events after the proconsul’s return to Rome. As a result, the findings of Quellenforschung are little more than guesswork as to the authors consulted for this portion of the Lucullus with its compilation of gossip, propaganda, and exempla.47 Conspicuously, a fair proportion of the anecdotes recounted by Plutarch contrast Lucullus’ luxuria with the supposed temperantia of his personal enemy Pompey the Great.48 It is either Pompey himself or those around him who deride Lucullus on account of his alleged retirement (Luc. 38.5), who enquire about his sumptuous villas (39.4f.), and who are amazed at the speedy preparation of his banquets (41.7). In another instance, Pompey refuses to draw on Lucullus’ stock of rare birds when his physician prescribes a thrush for him to eat and his political rival turns out to be the only person to keep them fattening during the summer, whereupon Pompey is cited as exclaiming: “What! if a Lucullus were not luxurious (ejtruvfa), a Pompey could not live on?” (Luc. 40.2).49 Several elements in these anecdotes indicate that Lucullus’ extravagance was the object of popular scandalmongering. Significantly, the episode about the thrush is introduced by a remark on the repute acquired by Pompey (eujdokivmhsen) thanks to his rôle in the story, which immediately follows the aforesaid comment on Lucullus’ incurring the envy of the vulgar. Moreover, the occasional mention of Pompey’s partisans (oiJ peri; to;n Pomphvion) (Luc. 38.5; 41.7) may imply that these anecdotes assumed a certain prominence in the political arena – a point that shall be taken up shortly. The same conclusion is suggested by the quotation of an aphorism of Cato’s admonishing a young senator who had delivered a discourse on frugality and temperance (uJpe;r eujteleiva" kai; swfrosuvnh"): “Stop there – you who are wealthy like Crassus, live like Lucullus, but talk like Cato” (Luc. 40.3). Furthermore, the contemporary popularity of anecdotes dealing with Lucullus’ banquets is confirmed by Plutarch’s remark to the effect that the matter was “much talked of (lovgou pollou`) in the city” (Luc. 41.4). Similarly, Lucullus figures as an example of a famous man exposed to slander in the Ad principem ineruditum on the grounds that he was “ill spoken of (h[koue kakw`") due to his rather extravagant dinners (ejpi; tw/` deipnei`n polutelevsteron)” (mor. 782f). In two instances at least, diverging versions of the anecdotes themselves were in circulation. Thus both Velleius Paterculus (2.33.4) and Pliny the Elder (nat. 9.170) have Pompey call Lucullus Xerxes togatus to deride the costly digging 46

Cf. Stadter 1996; Beck 2000. Cf. Peter 1865, 108f.; Scardigli 1989, 284. Hillard 1987, 2854 suggests that Plutarch’s Roman friends were responsible for the collection of anecdotes about Lucullus’ luxurious lifestyle. 48 The implications of Pompey’s presence are briefly discussed by Keaveney 1992, 150f.; Hillman 1994, 192f. On Plutarch’s construction of Lucullus’ rivalry with Pompey see chapter 4 at nn. 47ff. 49 The same anecdote: Pomp. 2.11f.; mor. 204b (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata); 786a (An seni sit gerenda res publica). 47

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operations conducted in order to secure the water supply of the latter’s fishponds, whereas Plutarch ascribes the same remark to the obscure Tubero the Stoic (Luc. 39.3).50 Likewise, the biographer expresses certain doubts as to whether Cato’s aphorism on Lucullus’ lifestyle was actually Cato’s, and elsewhere attributes it to a certain Amnaeus (Cat. Min. 19.8).51 Both examples further corroborate the hypothesis about the origin of these stories in a fairly widespread oral tradition. At the same time, the insertion of Pompey’s name into the episode about the canal conforms to a pattern which evidently carries political overtones.52 Beyond the persistent contrast with Lucullus’ extravagance, Pompey’s moderation in private life appears to represent a broader theme of his personal propaganda. In the Pompeius, Plutarch emphasises the protagonist’s temperance (swfrosuvnh peri; divaitan) at the very outset (Pomp. 1.4), and later recounts the anecdote about Lucullus’ thrushes (2.11f.), employs the luxurious excesses of Metellus to bring out Pompey’s frugality (18.2f.), and sets his modest habitation against the sumptuous domiciles of his adherent Demetrius (40.8f.).53 Moreover, Sallust’s notorious verdict on Pompey: modestus ad alia omnia, nisi ad dominationem (hist. frg. 2.17 Maur. = 2.18 McGush.)54 appears to confirm that the ‘Roman Alexander’ enjoyed a reputation for temperance, just as one of his foremost enemies had one for luxury. Above all, however, Sallust’s estimate calls attention to one of the major weaknesses of Pompey’s public image which Lucullus certainly did not fail to exploit. In the context of the hostile encounter between the two generals in Asia Minor, the ancient sources highlight the charge of ambition for power against the new commander as much as that of greed for money against his predecessor.55 What is more, according to the version presented in Plutarch’s An seni sit gerenda res publica (mor. 785f), Pompey’s censure of Lucullus’ luxurious lifestyle as being untimely for an old man was preceded by an attack on the former’s filarciva and filotimiva as being unsuited to his age (par’ hJlikivan).56 Evidently, this charge alludes to Pompey’s exemption from the age regulations of the cursus honorum, but apparently the gibe backfired and was successfully turned into a criticism of Lucullus’ extravagant mode of life. 50 For Tubero’s identity cf. Van Ooteghem 1959, 1873; Jolivet 1987, 8752; Scardigli 1989, 485529; Piccirilli 1990, 337. On the connotations of the appellation of Xerxes togatus see below at nn. 65ff. 51 For Plutarch’s technique of transferring particular items from one character to another cf. Pelling 1980, 129/ 2002, 93f. 52 In general terms, the propagandistic function of this material has been recognised by Ballesteros Pastor 1999, 338–343, who seems to be inclined, however, to accept Plutarch’s antithesis between Lucullus’ early sobriety and later degeneration as historically accurate. 53 Cf. Edwards 1991, 70–74. Also note Plut. Ant. 21.2; further Cic. Manil. 40f. 54 Similarly Vell. 2.29.3: nisi ubi vereretur ne quem haberet parem, modestissimus. 55 Cf. Plut. Pomp. 31.8; Vell. 2.33.2. Cass. Dio 36.46.2 only records the accusations against Pompey. 56 Cf. likewise 204b (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata). Significantly, only Pompey’s reply is cited in Luc. 38.5 and Pomp. 48.7. Hence the case is a good example of Plutarch’s readiness to adapt anecdotal material, as pointed out by Pelling 2002b, 73f., who misleadingly implies, however, that it was Lucullus who reacted to Pompey’s dig.

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As to the denunciations concerning the latter’s trufhv, the unique instance of Plutarch’s aforementioned pairing of the partisans of Pompey and Crassus (Luc. 38.5), who were actually rivals rather than allies most of the time, strongly suggests a connexion with the political struggles of 59, in which Lucullus is attested as one of the fiercest opponents of their joint agenda. This important point has first been acknowledged by Thomas Hillman, who has further called attention to the chronological context of the parallel passage in the Pompeius, where the protagonist’s dismissive comment is directly linked with the frustration of Lucullus’ opposition to his political designs (Pomp. 48.1–7).57 Given his notoriety for greed and wealth, Crassus may seem to be a rather odd champion of sobriety, yet Plutarch indicates in the Crassus that the affluent politician was indeed projecting the image of a moderate lifestyle.58 Likewise, the third man of the so-called First Triumvirate, Caesar, appears to have been at pains to confine his celebrated munificence to the public sphere while advertising his simplicity in private affairs.59 An explicit contrast with Lucullus’ extravagance is not unlikely, but – despite the efforts of Giuseppe Zecchini – remains a matter of conjecture.60 Consequently, at least the anecdotes involving Pompey can confidently be related to the political context of the conflicts surrounding the ratification of the general’s Eastern acta and the settlement of his veterans. In one instance, a more precise link can be forged between a particular anecdote and a particular political event: as Hillman has convincingly argued, Plutarch’s story about Lucullus’ lavish dinner with Cicero and Pompey seems to have lost its original context of an attempted reconciliation between the two conquerors of the East (Luc. 41.4–7).61 Hence the episode, which induces the biographer misleadingly to postulate friendly relations between the two adversaries, presumably occurred late in 61 or early in 60, i.e. shortly before the conclusion of Pompey’s alliance with Caesar and Crassus. In the following months, Cicero, who apparently performed the function of a mediator on the occasion of the banquet, repeatedly refers to a group of piscinarii in his letters to Atticus.62 Although no individuals are explicitly mentioned, the notoriety of Lucullus’ fishponds and a corroborative note in Macrobius (Sat. 3.15.6) make his inclusion virtually certain. Incidentally, Cicero himself implies 57

Cf. Hillman 1993, 219f. See also chapter 4 at nn. 71f. Cf. Crass. 1.1–3; 2.6; 3.1f. 59 Cf. Plut. Caes. 17; Suet. Iul. 53; Athen. 6.273b. 60 Cf. Zecchini 1995, 599–607; also idem 2001, 133. 61 Cf. Hillman 1994, and see chapter 4 at nn. 74f. For the convivium as a place of political reconciliation note, e.g., the dinner of Cicero and Crassus prior to the latter’s Parthian campaign, as described in Cic. fam. 1.9.20 = 20.20 Sh.B., with Stein-Hölkeskamp 2001, 362f.; eadem 2005, 38f. 62 Cf. Cic. Att. 1.18.6 = 18.6 Sh.B.; 1.19.6 = 19.6; 1.20.3 = 20.3; 2.1.7 = 21.7 (all dating from 60) as well as 2.9.1 = 29.1 (dating from 59), quoted below in the text. For the identity and activities of the piscinarii cf. Van Ooteghem 1968; Kajava 1998/99, 262–266; Blanck 1999, 161–163. The socio-political aspects of Roman pisciculture are outlined by Giacopini et al. 1994, 7–10; Higginbotham 1997, 55–64; Blanck 1999. 58

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that the phrase was being employed beyond his private correspondence; for it seems that he once cites Clodius as using the expression piscinarum Tritones (Att. 2.9.1 = 29.1 Sh.B.). While most of the surviving anecdotes appear to have originated in the aftermath of Pompey’s return from Asia, the polemic of those years merely amplified earlier charges against Lucullus’ wealth and extravagance which had been brought at the time of his own campaigns in the East. As noted above, Plutarch repeatedly reports that the demagogues at Rome denounced the commander’s avarice and reproached him with self-enrichment.63 What is more, Cicero’s Pro Sestio (93) alludes to a contio of 67 in which the tribune A. Gabinius employed a representation of one of Lucullus’ villas in order to incite indignation at the proconsul’s luxuria.64 Against this background, a link was easily forged with the notion of Oriental luxury as mirrored in the appellation of Xerxes togatus.65 The sobriquet specifically recalls the Great King’s canal across the peninsula around Mount Athos with its attendant show of megalofrosuvnh and defiance of nature.66 This and similar examples of inverting the natural order, especially the blurring of the boundary between land and sea, were generally viewed as frivolous, offensive, and tyrannical, and therefore provoked severe censure on the part of ancient writers.67 At the same time, putting a Roman aristocrat on the same level as an Oriental king can be read in a negative way as implying an addiction to the vices associated with regnum and hence a fundamental opposition to the ideal of Republican libertas.68 Furthermore, the name of Xerxes not only connotes the u{bri" of ‘Barbarian’ despotism and the sumptuousness of the Persian court, but also the failure of an over-ambitious campaign. Evidently, the story of Pompey, the ‘Roman Alexander’ and successful general, calling Lucullus the “Roman Xerxes” was designed to convey a most injurious political message. From a Roman perspective, the connexion of Asia with luxury and profligacy was commonly taken for granted, as emerges, e.g., from Cicero’s affirmation of Murena’s moral integrity in the face of contrary charges building on his extended period of service in the East (Mur. 11f.). Likewise, Nicolaus’ aforementioned denunciation of Lucullus as the pioneer of extravagance among the Romans is 63

See above at nn. 10f. and chapter 4 at nn. 43ff. Interestingly, Cicero does not mention Lucullus by name. Apparently, the latter’s reputation for luxury was so firmly established by 56 (the date of the speech) that this was superfluous. 65 On the association of the Near Orient with trufhv cf. Bernhardt 2003, 121–136 and 239– 247. Further note Dalby 2000, 186–191. 66 Cf. Hdt. 7.22–24; further 7.33–36, and Jolivet 1987, 875f.; Piccirilli 1990, 337f. with additional references. 67 Cf., e.g., Sall. Cat. 13.1, and Purcell 1987, 190–194; Traina 1988, 320–332; Edwards 1993, 144–149. By contrast, note the praise for the pleasures of an artificial landscape in Stat. silv., e.g., 2.2.30ff., 44ff., 52ff., with the discussion in Pavlovskis 1973, 1–21; further Schneider 1995, 98–104. 68 Cf. Lafon 2001, 204–225 on the negative connotations and on the “royal colouration” of maritime villas. For the antithesis between regnum and libertas in Roman discourse cf. Martin 1994, 97–184. 64

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based on the topos of moral corruption blamed on the influx of wealth and luxury in consequence of conquests in the East.69 The parallels of this statement to Livy’s disapproving comments on the deleterious impact of the return of Cn. Manlius Vulso’s army from Asia in 187 are obvious.70 Just as Livy dwells on the precious objects displayed in Manlius Vulso’s triumph, moreover, so it has been noted above that Plutarch gives a detailed account of the items shown by Lucullus and connects Crassus’ disastrous campaign against the Parthians with the wealth brought to Rome from the cities of Asia.71 More generally, anxieties about the supposed dangers inherent in the spread of luxury represent a common feature in political and philosophical discourses throughout antiquity. In classical Greek and Hellenistic literature, most notably in Stoic writings, the concept of trufhv conventionally figures as a stock element in expositions of the corruption, decay, and undoing of both individuals and communities.72 Only exceptionally and under the influence of Epicurean doctrine was it conceived of in a positive way owing to its connotations of splendour, plenty, and paradise, perhaps most impressively in the context of the reign of the Ptolemies.73 Similarly, Roman sources mostly adopt a negative view of luxury, but again there are quite a few exceptions especially in poetry, in architectural literature, and in the occasional praise of the refined as opposed to the coarse sensualist.74 Like many of his peers, Lucullus, too, must have considered his lifestyle to reflect elegance and distinction rather than denoting the narcissistic hedonism ascribed to him by his political adversaries.75 Before the advent of the Principate, the most conspicuous attempt at representing trufhv in a positive light was made by Mark Antony, whose propaganda was at least partly targeted at an Eastern audience, however, and could easily be manipulated to the detriment of the triumvir himself.76 69

Cf. Lintott 1972; Petrochilos 1974, 69–87; Bringmann 1977; Cotta Ramosino 2004, 251–

270. 70 Cf. Liv. 39.6.7–9: Luxuriae enim peregrinae origo ab exercitu Asiatico invecta in urbem est; also Plin. nat. 34.14 (= Calpurnius Piso, FRH 7, F 37); 37.12; further 33.148; Cass. Dio 19 F 64, and the analysis of the political context in Zecchini 1982, esp. 176–178; also Berti 1989, 45– 47; Forsythe 1994, 385–396. For further examples cf. the references in the previous note. 71 See above at nn. 18f. 72 Cf. Passerini 1934; Cozzoli 1980; Bernhardt 2003, 190–198 and passim. 73 Cf. Tondriau 1948; Heinen 1983. 74 Cf. the rich material in La Penna 1989; further the references to Statius cited above, n. 67, and Coarelli 1989 as well as Romano 1994; also eadem 1987, 30–38 and 153–161 on Vitruvius and luxurious building. For different types of sensualism cf. Edwards 1993, 198–204. 75 Pace Landolfi 1990, 103–106, who takes the accusations against Lucullus’ luxuria at face value and situates the consular’s behaviour “ai margini delle abitudini degli uomini politici di età repubblicana” (p. 106); likewise D’Arms 1999, 312f.: Lucullus “stood apart – the exception who proved the rule” (p. 313); also Salza Prina Ricotti 1983, 62–64; Bober 1999, 173–175; Weeber 2003, 15–19. Further note Leach 2004, 87f., who suggests that Lucullus’ “show of self-indulgence” should be understood “as a defiant flaunting of the aristocratic establishment that had betrayed his service to its codes of government” (p. 87). On private consumption and its effect on the Roman public cf. generally Vössing 2004, 234–253. 76 Cf., e.g., Griffin 1977.

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In Roman public debates, allegations related to luxury and licentiousness could be used as an effective weapon since the concept of morality played a key rôle in defining the élite.77 Thus charges of immoral behaviour in political invective evidently reflect a wider concern about Roman identity and the supposed erosion of mos maiorum.78 At the same time, the spectre of corruption could be invoked to produce both symbolic and practical results in the shape of the sumptuary laws of the middle and late Republic. In both contexts, genuine anxieties and convictions were inextricably intertwined with political calculations and ideological strategies: while oratorical charges of moral depravity served to denigrate personal adversaries in the public eye,79 legislation on the use of luxury items helped to buttress traditional values, to strengthen the cohesion of the ruling class, and to legitimise the dominance of the rich and powerful. In theory, some of these laws should also have circumscribed the scope for personal selfadvertisement, yet this raises the problem of their poor enforcement and constant violation.80 As for the Roman people at large, Cicero asserts in a widely cited passage from the Pro Murena that they detest private luxury but love public munificence.81 While Lucullus’ enemies at least partly succeeded in presenting themselves as satisfying these demands, they clearly prevailed in their propaganda effort to associate the “Roman Xerxes” with the very characteristics abhorred by the public. Considering the context of the Roman discourse on luxury and corruption, there is no doubt that the charges brought against Lucullus’ extravagance must be interpreted as political instruments designed to prove him unfit for the management of state affairs. Interestingly, Pompey and Crassus, who successfully vilified their opponent for his self-indulgence, were themselves vulnerable to accusations of luxuria and therefore withdrew their motion for sumptuary legislation during their second joint consulship in 55 (Cass. Dio 39.37.2–4). Against this background, it is rather obvious that the denunciations of Lucullus’ 77 Cf. Edwards 1993, esp. 1–33; also Baltrusch 1989, 18–22 and passim; Keller 2005, 191– 201; further Richlin 1992, 83–104. 78 Apart from Edwards 1993, cf. the references cited above, nn. 69f., as well as Hampl 1959, esp. 499–514. 79 Cf., e.g., Stein-Hölkeskamp 2001, 370–375 on the different ways of employing representations of luxurious living in the Ciceronian speeches Pro Caelio, In Pisonem, and In Catilinam. 80 On the socio-political aspects of the leges sumptuariae cf. Clemente 1981; Baltrusch 1989, 120–123 and passim; also Gabba 1981, esp. 548–555 = 1988, 34–41; further the brief survey in Bottiglieri 2002, 39–42. More generally, cf. Astin 1988, 32–34, who, like Baltrusch, emphasises the macro-social function of the regimen morum in preserving the homogeneity of the aristocracy. The mainstream interpretation of the sumptuary laws is challenged by De Ligt 2002, 3–12, who rightly calls attention to their symbolic meaning and ideological implications. Also note Bonamente 1980, who essentially views them as reflecting moral debates about Hellenisation. 81 Cf. Mur. 76: odit populus Romanus privatam luxuriam, publicam magnificentiam diligit. Also note Flacc. 28 regarding the practice of the maiores. On the necessity for late Republican aristocrats to project a self-image of temperance and frugality cf. Landolfi 1990, 91–110, on whose problematic portrayal of Lucullus see above, n. 75.

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lifestyle are not particularly meaningful as distinctive indicators of his actual conduct, his attitudes, and his objectives.82

Lucullus and the Exempla Tradition If Lucullus was insistently accused of extravagance and idleness towards the end of his career, these charges were fossilised as stock examples of un-Roman luxuria after the end of his lifetime. Beyond the coverage of his campaigns in the narrative sources on the history of the late Republic, the overwhelming majority of the surviving references to Lucullus is preoccupied with his wealth, his mode of life, and his building activities. Citing some of the relevant passages from the latter half of the first century, Hillman has aptly observed that the consular’s association with trufhv stood in a “well established and prejudicial tradition on Lucullus’ proverbial luxury”.83 The following discussion of references from all kinds of ancient accounts will be designed to clarify the scope and nature of this tradition. Apart from the texts mentioned in the preceding section, Cicero twice laments over the bad example set by the luxurious villas of his political friend. In the De officiis (1.140), the celebrated orator cites the magnificence of Lucullus’ structures in a passage calling for moderation in expenditure and display, while in the De legibus (3.30f.) he blames the desire for splendour among people of lower standing on the luxurious buildings of Lucullus and his peers.84 Writing a few years after Cicero’s death, Varro repeatedly alludes to the extravagance of Lucullus’ villas in the Res rusticae. Like Cicero, he once points out that the consular’s lavish structures were detrimental to the state (pessimo publico), and goes on to censure Lucullus for mistaken priorities in arranging his dining rooms so as to maximise his comfort according to the changing conditions of the seasons (rust. 1.13.7).85 In another instance, the estates of Cn. Tremelius Scrofa are favourably contrasted with the royally refined buildings (regie polita aedificia) erected by others, and with Lucullus’ villas and their picture galleries in particular (rust. 1.2.10). This reference to the practice of kings is doubly 82 In this context, note the sceptical conclusions drawn by Saller 1980 regarding the reliability of anecdotes relating to the Emperors. 83 Hillman 1993, 218. Cf. also Keaveney 1992, 151–154. Further note Gowing 2005, 65 on the ambiguous connotations of Lucullus’ name in the imperial period. Still, Ash 2006, 356, 373, and passim suggests that the Neronian commander Corbulo may self-consciously have chosen the Republican general as a rôle model. See also chapter 5 at nn. 45f. 84 On these passages cf. the remarks in Narducci 1989, 253f., and see the end of this chapter. They are misinterpreted by Hales 2003, 22f., who reads them as attempts to excuse Lucullus’ behaviour, suggesting that Cicero sought “to rehabilitate his subject [scil. Lucullus] into the tradition of Romanitas” (p. 22). In fact, the criticism expressed in leg. 3.30 is quite clear: Non vides, Luculle, a te id ipsum natum, ut illi cuperent quibus id, si tu non faceres, non liceret? – Beyond these statements, note the passing reference to a Lucullan villa as a source of delight in Cic. fin. 2.107. 85 Cf. also Plut. Luc. 39.4f., and Stein-Hölkeskamp 2005, 117–123; also Mayer 2005, 154.

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instructive, for it not only calls to mind the spoils from the campaigns against Mithridates and Tigranes, but also carries political overtones as an antithesis to Republican libertas.86 Several passages from the same work are concerned with two especially conspicuous features of the consular’s estates, viz. his fishponds and aviary. As to the former, Varro highlights the expense incurred by their construction and Lucullus’ readiness to spend the money in order to supply his ‘friends’, the fish (amicos pisces suos), with fresh water (rust. 3.17.9).87 Two further references attest to the notoriety of his piscinae and to the exorbitant resale price of his fish as realised by Cato the Younger (rust. 3.3.10; 3.2.17).88 Regarding the consular’s aviary at Tusculum, Varro highlights the impracticality of integrating it with one of the dining rooms as a result of the unpleasant smell produced by the birds (rust. 3.4.3). Elsewhere, Lucullus’ birdhouse is cited as an exceptionally large construction against which an even bigger one by Varro himself is to be measured (rust. 3.5.8). While the latter example implies that the author of the Res rusticae by no means universally condemns building activities on a grand scale, his criticism of Lucullus’ dysfunctional and excessively luxurious projects undoubtedly forms part of a tradition unfavourable to the consul of 74.89 Two additional passages from Varro are transmitted by Pliny the Elder. Thus the author of the Natural History quotes the Republican scholar as recording that Lucullus distributed over 100,000 wine-jars upon his return from Asia (nat. 14.96). This act of largess is contrasted with mos maiorum as represented by the habits of the preceding generation when Greek wine had supposedly never been served more than once in the course of a convivium. In another instance, Pliny cites Varro as praising a familiaris of Lucullus’, the exclusive sculptor Arcesilaus, who was commissioned by his friend to produce a costly statue of Felicitas (nat. 35.155f.). Beyond this, a passing remark from the Res rusticae hints at Lucullus’ wealth by suggesting that Appius Claudius used to be poor but could later afford to drink mulsum thanks to his legacy from the rich consular (rust. 3.16.2). In more general terms, Diodorus likewise refers to Lucullus as about the wealthiest Roman of his day, who made remarkably generous offerings (Diod. 4.21.4). Furthermore, Lucullus’ prosperity is presupposed by an anecdote from the collection of Valerius Maximus, who relates that Q. Caecilius owed his status and wealth to the consular’s patronage (Val. Max. 7.8.5).90 By the time of the early Principate, the notion of Lucullus as the pioneer of luxury at Rome had made its way into the literary tradition. Paralleling the aforementioned statement of Nicolaus’, Velleius Paterculus affirms that “Lucullus, who was otherwise a great man, was the first to set the example for our present 86

See above at n. 68. On the affection of other piscinarii for their fish cf. the references cited above, n. 62. 88 Cf. also Colum. 8.16.5; Macr. Sat. 3.15.6, both quoting Varro for the immense value of Lucullus’ fish. 89 For Varro’s attitude towards the luxury of villas and dining rooms, including those of Lucullus, cf. Grimal 1969, 364–367; Corso 1980/81; Flach 2004, 159–168. 90 On Caecilius’ closeness to Lucullus cf. also Nep. Att. 5.1. 87

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luxurious extravagance (profusae huius ... luxuriae primus auctor fuit) in buildings, in banquets, and in furnishings” (Vell. 2.33.4). A direct link with the political debates of the mid-first century is suggested by the fact that Velleius’ treatment of Lucullus is intertwined with that of Pompey’s career at the time of the Third Mithridatic War and extensively dwells on the mutual recriminations advanced by the two generals. A wide variety of authors writing in the imperial period recount isolated anecdotes or make passing references to Lucullus’ luxuria. In one of his Epistles, Horace relates a story about the consular being unaware of his abundant stock of cloaks (chlamydes) when asked to lend them for a performance (epist. 1.6.40ff.). Like much of the material cited above, the episode refers to an item with connotations of luxury and effeminacy, namely Greek chlamydes. Moreover, it is introduced by the expression ut aiunt, which may be taken to indicate its popularity. Both in Horace and in Plutarch, who quotes the Latin poet’s comment on the anecdote (Luc. 39.5),91 the episode is designed to expose the noble’s wasteful management of resources. Similar stories can be found in Pliny the Elder, who once asserts that Lucullus so completely lost his temperantia in dining that he had to employ a slave to prevent him from eating to excess (nat. 28.56).92 As the imperial writer points out, this was generally held to be exceedingly shameful inasmuch as it was regarded inappropriate to obey one’s slave more readily than oneself (pudenda re servo suo facilius parere quam sibi).93 Elsewhere, Pliny refers to Lucullus as being one of the early imitators of the first Roman to establish enclosures for wild animals (nat. 8.211). In another passage, the author of the Natural History contrasts an undersized villa owned by a certain Scaevola with an estate of one of the Luculli – either the consul of 74 or his homonymous father – which was short of arable land and hence earned its proprietor a censorial reproof (nat. 18.32). At least the latter story must have been rather popular; for the episode is retold by Columella (1.4.6). As for late antique literature, the notion of luxury figures quite prominently in the biographical essay composed by the anonymous author of the De viris illustribus. Notwithstanding this writer’s usual preoccupation with political and military exploits, he does not fail to point out that Lucullus was wealthy, attached excessive weight to appearance (nimius in habitu), and was inflamed by a love of 91 The biographer’s version of the story is too different to suggest a direct quotation. Cf. Russell 1993, 426; Zadorojnyi 1997, 503–505. 92 On Pliny’s presentation of Lucullus cf. also Cotta Ramosino 2004, 318. Apart from the aforementioned quotations from Varro, note nat. 36.49f. on Lucullan marble, 15.102 on the import of the cherry, and 9.170 on the fishponds of the “Roman Xerxes”, as discussed above at nn. 2 and 50. See also chapter 2, n. 26. More generally, cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1990a; Citroni Marchetti 1991, esp. 200–229; Isager 1991, 52–55 and passim; Beagon 1992, 75–79 and 190–194; De Oliveira 1992, 33–39, 66–77, 134–140, and passim; Carey 2003, 76–79 and 91–99; Murphy 2004, 95–99 for Pliny’s attitude towards luxury and the tension between scientific discourse and moral diatribe in the Natural History. 93 In this context, note Edwards 1993, 195–197 on sensual pleasures as an enslavement to the body.

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statues and paintings (vir. ill. 74). The same tendency is even more apparent in the relevant paragraph of Ampelius’ Liber memorialis (18.18), where the focus is exclusively on the wealth accumulated by the general in the East and on his fondness for buildings and pictures. What is more, Lucullus is occasionally invoked for rhetorical purposes as an exemplum of excessive luxury together with other prominent figures from the Roman past. Thus Seneca the Elder once quotes the orator Votienus Montanus as listing various vices of imperatores, mentioning Lucullus’ luxuria along with that of Q. Fabius Maximus Gurges (cos. 292/276), T. Manlius Torquatus’ (cos. 347/344/340) lack of self-control, Sulla’s cruelty, and many others’ avarice (contr. 9.2.19). Similarly, Symmachus names Lucullus among his examples of corruption, citing the booty acquired from Mithridates and his enjoyment of Pontic luxus as the ultimate causes of his degeneration and failure (orat. 1.16). In this instance, the consul of 74 figures as the second element in a climax beginning with Scipio Africanus’ stay in Sicily and culminating in Antony’s supposed decadence in Egypt. At the same time, Symmachus’ letters attest to a stereotypical usage of Lucullus’ name matching the modern ‘Lucullan banquets’ by employing the phrase opera Lucullana to denote oversized buildings (epist. 2.60.1; 6.70). Likewise, the same author jokingly observes that his correspondent Decius Albinus, who owned a luxurious villa at Naples, was following in the footsteps of Lucullus (in famam Luculli) (epist. 7.36). In sum, an overwhelmingly negative line on Lucullus’ lifestyle emerges from the extant fragments of the ancient tradition. Not infrequently, wealth and extravagance are the only features associated with the Republican politician by a particular author. As a result, Lucullus’ very name became synonymous with luxury in building, dining, and living. Some of the relevant passages reflect topoi about the spread of corruption, highlighting the Eastern origins of certain products or practices, and identifying trufhv as both alien to mos maiorum and detrimental to the res publica. The prevalence of anecdotes and their occasional repetition, the widespread notion of pioneering the spread of luxury, and Lucullus’ sporadic incorporation in catalogues citing the distinctive qualities of certain historical figures all indicate that the consular’s lavish lifestyle quickly found its place in the exempla tradition. As moral debates at Rome were focused on individual models rather than theoretical foundations,94 stories about laudable or reprehensible behaviour proved to be a most effective medium for preserving isolated pieces of information on particular personalities. Hence Lucullus’ luxuria was easily canonised, and came to determine his general image in both ancient and modern times.

94 Cf. Hölkeskamp 1996, esp. 308–320 = 2004, 176–187; Chaplin 2000, esp. 11–29 and 92– 105; Stemmler 2000; idem 2001; Walter 2004, 51–70; Bücher 2006, esp. 152–173. Also note Gaillard 1978; David 1980 on the function of exempla in Cicero.

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Retirement from Politics? The unfavourable bias of the tradition on Lucullus’ final years has not only left its mark on Plutarch’s narrative, but, as argued above, was actually reinforced by him for reasons of compositional exigency. Notwithstanding the biographer’s efforts to compartmentalise his hero’s career, Thomas Hillman has demonstrated that the section on the protagonist’s supposed retirement shows some striking inconsistencies.95 Before elaborating on Lucullus’ extravagance, Plutarch expressly states that the consular “left behind and abandoned public affairs” (Luc. 38.2) in the wake of his return from the East in 66, yet at the same time he makes it appear as though the long-time commander withdrew only after his triumph in 63, which is covered in the preceding chapter (Luc. 37.3–6). While chronological precision is evidently not of great concern to the biographer in this instance, it seems very doubtful whether he was aware of the three-year interval between Lucullus’ return from the East and the celebration of his triumph.96 Be that as it may, Plutarch later devotes a number of paragraphs to his hero’s involvement in politics in 60 and 59, which apparently struck him as sufficiently significant to necessitate a qualification of his earlier remark on the protagonist’s retirement: “For Lucullus had not removed himself entirely from public life .... But he would still go down to the forum in support of his friends, and also to the Senate, whenever there was need of combating some ambitious scheme (spoudh;n h] filotimivan) of Pompey’s” (Luc. 42.4f.). Attractive though Plutarch may have found this opportunity to elaborate on the antagonism between Lucullus and Pompey, he was not disposed to allow these events to undermine his emphasis on Lucullus’ detachment from public affairs. On the contrary, he actually reinforces his interpretation by suggesting a further stage of the consular’s retirement in reaction to the frustration of his political undertakings: “This of course drove Lucullus even more from public life. And when Cicero was banished from the city, and Cato was sent out to Cyprus, he retired altogether” (Luc. 43.1).97 While the biographer may be right about the protagonist’s ‘second’ retirement one or two years prior to his death, Lucullus’ alleged withdrawal in 66 or 63 remains highly questionable, partly owing to his continued political activity – which shall be discussed shortly –, and partly due to the structure of Plutarch’s narrative. As pointed out above, the biographer develops the theme of trufhv in the Cimon – Lucullus with a view to bringing out the Roman hero’s degeneration in old age. Given his emphasis on the supposed division of Lucullus’ life, Plutarch was naturally inclined to minimise the protagonist’s involvement in politics in the final section of the biography. The practical significance of this factor is admittedly difficult to establish, but some clues may be derived from the depiction of Lucullus’ struggle with Pompey, which is much fiercer and receives more 95

Cf. Hillman 1993, whose treatment underlies much of the following argument. Cf. the detailed discussion in Hillman 1993, 212–219, who suggests that Plutarch took the period of Lucullus’ waiting for his triumph to indicate retirement. 97 Cf. Hillman 1993, 222: “The political event that at first seems out of place among the feasting of the second part of the Lucullus actually leads the reader back to it”. 96

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attention in the Pompeius (46.5f.; 48.1–7) than in the earlier Lucullus (42.5f.).98 However, this point remains hypothetical; for it is quite likely that Plutarch only acquired detailed knowledge of the relevant events at a later stage when he had already written the Lucullus and was jointly preparing the majority of the late Republican Lives including the Pompeius.99 What is more, the disparate nature of the biographer’s sources presumably accounts for the general focus and the greater part of the tensions and inconsistencies in the final section of the Lucullus. Notwithstanding the obvious dominance of the unfavourable tradition on Lucullus’ extravagance, Plutarch’s account shows that at least some sketchy pieces of information must have been available regarding the consular’s continued involvement in politics. The latter element was all but marginalised, however, by the force of the prevalent and apparently uncontested notion of two contrasting phases in Lucullus’ life. This division was undoubtedly further elaborated by Plutarch, who has been seen to employ it as the structural framework for his treatment of trufhv in the Lucullus, yet its essence must have been present in the sources informing his narrative. Significantly, three of the aforementioned references to Lucullus’ retirement in the Moralia are constructed according to the same interpretative pattern: while one of them sets the consular’s initial combination of thought and action (tw/` pravttein to; fronei`n sunei`cen) against his later inactivity and thoughtlessness (bivon a[prakton ... kai; a[frontin) (mor. 792b), the other two similarly assert that it was only after his military campaigns that he embarked on a life of self-indulgence (mor. 204b; 785f). In other words, both Plutarch’s sources and Plutarch himself subscribed to a view that emphasised Lucullus’ detachment from public affairs but paid scant attention to whatever evidence may have survived on his political rôle in the late sixties and early fifties. As a result, the actual record of the consular’s final years remains largely elusive. Following his return from Asia in 66, Lucullus was effectively barred from political activity in the city for a period of three years whilst waiting to be granted his triumph. After that, however, his involvement in politics is attested in several instances, thus substantiating Hillman’s case for dating the consular’s retirement much later than hitherto assumed.100 Most notably, various authors including Plutarch mention Lucullus as one of Pompey’s principal antagonists in the wake of the latter’s return from the East, and ascertain his vigorous activity down to 59.101 While the biographer presents 98

Cf. the observations in Swain 1992, 315; also idem 1990, 144 = 1995, 261f. with n. 105. See chapter 4 at nn. 61ff. with references (n. 66) and a more detailed discussion of the differences between Luc. 36.2–4 and Pomp. 31.3–13 on the encounter between the two generals in Asia Minor. 100 Cf. Hillman 1993, esp. 224–226; also Keaveney 1992, 156–165, who credulously follows Plutarch’s suggestion (Luc. 43.1), though, that Lucullus eventually became frustrated with the political struggle and therefore “saw no point in continuing in politics and ... retired completely” (p. 163). Keaveney’s valid main argument is lightly dismissed by Lavery 1994, 269f. 101 See chapter 4 at nn. 69ff. with discussion and references. 99

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Lucullus’ unflagging opposition to his successor in the Mithridatic command as an exceptional matter,102 it should be borne in mind that the ratification of Pompey’s acta and the settlement of his veterans were high on the political agenda over several years. Apart from this, Lucullus is recorded as a witness for the prosecution in the Bona Dea trial against Clodius, taking vengeance on yet another adversary who had slighted him at the time of his proconsulship.103 In the context of the Catilinarian conspiracy, moreover, and again before Cicero’s departure into exile, Lucullus is attested as one of the orator’s advisers.104 Finally, passing references from Cicero’s speeches testify to his presence at the trial of Murena and to his membership of the jury against Flaccus.105 Surprising though all of this may seem when related to the verdicts of both ancient and modern authors, it is perfectly intelligible upon considering that it is only against a background of ongoing public activity that the anecdotes about Lucullus’ extravagance become meaningful as instruments of political propaganda. Still, it remains to be explained that Lucullus figures as one of the piscinarii in Cicero’s private correspondence.106 As Hillman has observed, the orator only employs this term in the first half of 60, i.e. at a time when the erstwhile commander was most actively engaged in opposing his rival Pompey.107 Hence the relevant references must be read as a reflexion of Cicero’s dissatisfaction with Lucullus’ political objectives rather than with his supposed inactivity. As suggested above, moreover, the expression appears to have been used as a weapon of invective, thus exploiting prejudice against a larger group of wealthy individuals.

Buildings and Misreadings One of the principal objects of moral indignation at Lucullus’ luxuria, namely the extravagance of his buildings, deserves closer attention on account of the useful, if fragmentary, archaeological evidence available, which constitutes an important corrective to the literary sources. First of all, it needs to be emphasised that splendid houses were not necessarily viewed as offensive by the Romans; for they were designed, among other things, to display social status and could serve to impress the public by advertising power, wealth, and political ambition.108 At any rate, Lucullus himself presumably sought to convey a message rather different from the readings suggested by the hostile tradition preserved in the narrative sources.

102

Cf. Luc. 42.5; Pomp. 46.6. Cf. Cic. Mil. 73; Plut. Cic. 29.4. 104 Cf. Plut. Cic. 31.5; also Cic. ac. pr. 3. 105 Cf. Mur. 20; Flacc. 85. 106 See above at n. 62. 107 Cf. Hillman 1993, 226–228. Also note Hellegouarc’h 1963, 446f. 108 On the conflicting exigencies of representing status and avoiding luxuria cf. Narducci 1989, 183–185; Zaccaria Ruggiu 1995, 326–338; Treggiari 1999, 41–50, all focusing on Cicero. 103

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On the whole, the archaeological data pertaining to Lucullus’ private structures, incomplete though they are, fail to corroborate the stereotypical picture of exceptional luxury. The consul of 74 is attested as the proprietor of the horti Lucullani on the Pincian Hill and of estates at Tusculum, at Misenum, and on the island of Nesis.109 To this catalogue, scholars used to add another domicile at Naples which may, however, not be distinct from the other two villas he owned in the same region.110 Apart from the gardens on the fringe of Rome, remains of these buildings have proved most difficult to identify with certainty and should be adduced in the present context only with utmost caution. In the case of the consular’s villa and tomb at Tusculum, the supposed magnificence of the structures in question has been used as a criterion to ascribe them to Lucullus, and therefore cannot be regarded as independent evidence for his luxuria.111 Conspicuously, all of these estates are situated at some distance from the political centre of the Republic, but this should not be taken to imply that they were purely luxurious residences unsuitable for political activities and devoid of economic utilitas.112 At the same time, Lucullus’ attested property is considerably inferior to the villas that can be attributed to several of his aristocratic contemporaries both in terms of their number and of their estimated value.113 Given the largely fortuitous nature of the surviving data, this point should not unduly be emphasised, however. Evidently, the possessions of Caesar and Pompey, or of Cicero and his correspondents were far more likely to be recorded in the extant sources. During his long-term absence from Italy, moreover, Lucullus presumably had little opportunity to engage in the common practice of buying and selling estates.114 Yet however distorted the figures may be, the fact remains that the documentation for the extravagance of Lucullus’ buildings is relatively poor. More importantly, there are some instances in which the literary sources demonstrably misrepresent certain data in a way that serves to exaggerate the expenditure involved in Lucullus’ acquisition and embellishment of particular estates. As John D’Arms has pointed out, a passage in Plutarch’s Marius (34.3–4) on the villa at Misenum, which is described as an extravagant house (polutelh;" oijkiva) with luxurious and unduly effeminate rooms (trufa;" e[cousa kai; diaivta" qhlutevra"), misleadingly associates Lucullus with the spread of luxury: “This house, it is said, Cornelia had bought for 75,000 drachmas; and not long after109

On Lucullus’ building activities in general cf. chiefly Jolivet 1987; also Van Ooteghem 1959, 178–193; Keaveney 1992, 144–150; further D’Arms 1970, 184–186; Shatzman 1975, 379f. 110 Thus Jolivet 1987, 891–897. For the orthodox view cf. the other references cited in the previous note. 111 Cf. McCracken 1942, who states at the outset of his enquiry that “the point that the villa was luxurious must of necessity be true” (p. 326). Also note Fontana 1999 with further references. 112 Cf. Jolivet 1987, 902–904. 113 Number of estates: Jolivet 1987, 878 15; property value: Shatzman 1975, 35, who estimates Lucullus’ estates at about 100 million sesterces as compared with 13 million for Cicero but 200 million or more for Pompey and Crassus. 114 On the frequency of property deals cf. Rawson 1976, 85–89 = 1991, 204–208.

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wards, Lucius Lucullus purchased it for 2,500,000. So quickly did extravagance (polutevleia) spring up, and so great an increase in luxury (pro;" trufhvn) did things take on”. What goes unmentioned is the fact that Sulla’s daughter Cornelia acquired the estate during the proscriptions at an exceptionally low price.115 While many an equivalent example could doubtless have been produced, it is hardly coincidence that the biographer, or rather his source, singled out the case of the supposed pioneer of luxury. In the Lucullus, Plutarch’s misreading of the evidence afforded by the horti Lucullani is particularly illuminating. Elaborating on the protagonist’s excessive expenditure, the biographer observes that “even now, when luxury has increased so much (ejpivdosin toiauvthn th`" trufh`" ejcouvsh"), the gardens of Lucullus are counted among the most extravagant (ejn toi`" polutelestavtoi") of the imperial gardens” (Luc. 39.2). Interestingly, Plutarch thus reveals that his judgement of the consular’s trufhv is somehow related to the standards of lavish outlay among his wealthy contemporaries in general and the Emperors in particular. At the same time, it is clear that the idea of connecting the magnificence of the imperial site with the activities of the Republican noble is profoundly misguided as a way of assessing the scale of his building projects in the mid-first century. After all, recent excavations have shown that the most sumptuous structures in the horti were only erected under the Principate, long after Lucullus’ death.116 In fact, only a system of plastered tunnels and a supporting wall with niches can be attributed to the late Republican period. Both were considerably amplified in the ensuing decades: while the wall was transformed into a nymphaeum with a costly mosaic,117 new networks of tunnels and a direct link with the Aqua Claudia/ Anio Novus improved the site’s water supply. A huge complex, which used to be ascribed to Lucullus,118 consisting of another supporting wall, a theatre, and a curved porticus, with a corresponding temple of Fortuna on the summit of the hill, can now confidently be dated to the mid-first century A.D. on the basis of the composition of soil deposits. Presumably, this structure was put up during the reign of Claudius when, according to Tacitus, Valerius Asiaticus 115 Cf. D’Arms 1968; idem 1970, 27–30. Still, the price paid by Lucullus was rather high, as noted by D’Arms 1970, 185; Shatzman 1975, 35f. Hence it is hard to believe that he later “found Marius’ villa too simple and austere to be worth keeping” and therefore sold it to C. Curio, as suggested by Badian 1973, 124f. and 130–132 (quotation 132). Against Badian’s argument, which is mainly designed to demonstrate that Marius owned one villa at Misenum rather than two, cf. also Jolivet 1987, 879–881; further Lafon 2001, 92. For a possible identification of the site cf. Borriello/ D’Ambrosio 1979, 27–29 and 153–155, but the remains date from the imperial period. 116 Cf. the summary in Broise/ Jolivet 1996; also Richardson 1992, 200, and the more detailed treatments in Broise/ Jolivet 1987, esp. 753–760; iidem 1991, esp. 21–36; iidem 1994, esp. 188–193; iidem 1998. The latter contribution contrasts a Republican phase of utilitas with the later amoenitas of the site. Also note Kaster 1974. 117 Cf. Parlasca 1988, esp. 160–164. 118 Cf. Coarelli 1983, 200–206 = 1996, 335–338, with second thoughts in 1996, 517, who further suggests that the construction imitated the sanctuary of Fortuna Primigenia at Praeneste, which Sulla is known to have richly adorned (Plin. nat. 36.189).

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embellished the gardens laid out by Lucullus with conspicuous splendour (insigni magnificentia) (ann. 11.1.1). At any rate, what Plutarch may have seen during one of his visits to Rome will have born little resemblance to the appearance of the gardens in the final years of the Republic. As to Lucullus’ famous fishponds, Vincent Jolivet has plausibly suggested that they were located in the crater of an extinct volcano on the island of Nesis. If this were correct, their physical setting would presumably not have necessitated the vast and exceptional digging effort implied by the literary sources.119 As pointed out above, fishponds could be represented as indicating mistaken priorities in public affairs, and hence their scale and magnificence must have been prone to exaggeration for rhetorical purposes, especially in as publicised a case as that of the “Roman Xerxes”. Likewise, gardens generally connoted luxury, leisure, and respite from political negotia. In philosophical terms, moreover, they were closely linked with the school of Epicurus and the pursuit of pleasure.120 The moral ambiguity of the large-scale horti of the late Republic was further reinforced by the fact that they were to a large extent modelled on the Hellenistic courts with their characteristic fusion of public, private, and sacred elements.121 Against this background, Andrew Wallace-Hadrill has suggested that these gardens served to advertise their owners’ distance from political affairs, citing the cases of Lucullus, Sallust, and Maecenas.122 This interpretation is far from inescapable, however, since there are also several examples that do not fit the pattern, as the British scholar himself admits. The horti established around the city of Rome may not have been situated at the heart of the res publica, yet unlike the luxurious villas in nearby towns and beyond, they were still very much in the public eye. Owing to their proximity to the urban centre, they could even perform political functions related to life in the city, e.g., when they served as venues for public feasts.123 Let there be no doubt: the preceding argument is not designed to deny that Lucullus enjoyed living in luxurious buildings, as did most or all of his wealthy contemporaries. However, it needs to be understood that his reputation for extravagance is as much of a construction with political implications as the supposed temperance and frugality advertised by some of his peers.124 Hence it is method119

Cf. Jolivet 1987, 897–902; also Lafon 2001, 93f.; contra Keaveney 1992, 24614. Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1998, 4–6. 121 Cf. La Rocca 1986, 8–24. 122 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1998, 3–6; also Boatwright 1998, 73–75. Note that Pompey, too, owned horti and is reported to have neglected public affairs after Caesar’s first consulship when he is said to have spent his time with his wife on estates and in gardens (Plut. Pomp. 48.8). On the horti Pompeiani cf. Jolivet 1996 with further references. 123 Cf. D’Arms 1998 with reference to Caesar’s horti; also Frass 2006, 188–192. The feast mentioned in Plut. Luc. 37.6 (see chapter 4 after n. 113) as well as Lucullus’ dinner with Cicero and Pompey (Luc. 41.4–7) are not unlikely to have taken place in the horti Lucullani. Further note Kaster 1974, 17, who surmises that Lucullus chose the site of his gardens for strategic reasons as a refuge in times of danger. 124 Cf. also Hales 2003, 246: “Lucullus was not under attack simply for owning these villas but because he was seen to reject civic life at Rome” (emphasis added). 120

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ologically unsound simply to take Lucullus’ exceptional luxuria for granted, and allow this preconception to determine the reading of the literary and archaeological evidence. Judging from the data available, it appears rather doubtful whether the consular’s sense of luxury was indeed, as Jules Van Ooteghem has suggested, “new and somewhat revolutionary”.125 Significantly, one of the Ciceronian passages discussed above has Lucullus himself point to the equally sumptuous buildings inhabited by his neighbours, an eques and a freedman (leg. 3.30).126 As D’Arms has observed with regard to the villas and fishponds on the Bay of Naples, many features of trufhv seem to be “paradigms of the luxury of the age”127 – rather than peculiar characteristics of Lucullus’ personal lifestyle, one might add.

125

Van Ooteghem 1959, 188: “les conceptions nouvelles et quelque peu révolutionnaires de Lucullus”. 126 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1990, who takes Cicero’s statement as a starting point (pp. 145–150, with some modifications in idem 1994, 143–147) for an enquiry into the social spread of luxury. 127 Cf. D’Arms 1970, 39–45, quotation 41. Also note Keaveney 1992, 175, who describes Lucullus’ mode of life as “conventional”. On the overall development of luxury and expenditure among late Republican aristocrats cf. the summary treatment in Shatzman 1975, 94–98.

4. LUCULLUS AND ROMAN POLITICS Upon shifting his focus to the extravagance of Lucullus’ private life in the wake of the general’s recall from the Mithridatic command, Plutarch reports that “in the Senate he had given rise to wondrous hopes that in him it would find an opposer of the tyranny of Pompey (ajntivtagma pro;" th;n Pomphivou turannivda) and a champion of the aristocracy (th`" ajristokrativa" provmacon)” (Luc. 38.2).1 Following this statement, the biographer goes on to suggest that the consular resolved to abandon public affairs, though he subsequently returns, if only briefly, to political issues at the end of the Life. Plutarch’s remark combines two central features of his political analysis in the Lucullus: the protagonist’s association with the aristocratic establishment and his enmity towards Pompey. As the latter has previously been described as enjoying the support of the multitude (Luc. 35.9), it perfectly illustrates the biographer’s interpretative framework, which shall be seen to be structured around the contrast between Senate and people. At the same time, Plutarch’s statement is too short and too generic to illuminate Lucullus’ political rôle at Rome in the mid- and late sixties. Yet in this respect, too, it is characteristic of the Life as a whole and indeed of the scant documentation provided by the ancient sources in general. While the biographer’s detailed narrative of the Third Mithridatic War only gives occasional glimpses into the situation at Rome, political affairs are mainly treated in two smaller sections separated by the protagonist’s campaigns and focusing on Lucullus’ relationship with the senatorial aristocracy, his enmity towards Pompey, and his struggle against various popular leaders. To some extent, of course, the scarcity of the evidence is readily explicable in terms of the general’s long-time absence from the capital during his military and administrative activities in the East. Moreover, the consular’s supposed retirement from public life at some point after his return to Rome in 66 has undoubtedly tended to divert the attention of both ancients and moderns from his political rôle in the final years of the Republic. As has been seen in the preceding chapter on trufhv, however, this picture owes much to the propaganda disseminated by Lucullus’ political rivals, and therefore falls short of capturing the extent of his actual involvement in state affairs. Notwithstanding, the consular’s opposition to Pompey and his partisans in the late sixties and early fifties, as well as his earlier association with the dictator Sulla have induced modern scholars to view Lucullus as a distinctly ‘conservative’ member of the senatorial nobility who essentially failed to reach out to the people at large. Thus Theodor Mommsen has contended that the consul of 74 “was unpopular as a decided adherent of the oligarchy”, while Erich Gruen has 1 Cf.

also Pomp. 46.5; further Luc. 42.5. For the political background cf. Meier 1980, 317f.

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more recently singled him out as “the haughtiest of Roman aristocrats”.2 On the whole, however, the evidence to be discussed in the present chapter, poor and to some extent contradictory as it is, fails to support such a one-sided reading of Lucullus’ career. What is more, a purely negative view of his communicative skills begs the question of how this late Republican noble managed to be comparatively successful in his quest for honores, dignitas, and gloria over a period of twenty-odd years. In the following analysis, it shall be demonstrated that Lucullus’ public activity reflects a variety of techniques designed to further his personal ambitions within the highly competitive system of Republican politics. Far from limiting himself to forging senatorial coalitions and to thwarting popular initiatives, he was constantly required actively to woo the support of the citizens assembled in the public space of the city.

Lucullus and Sulla In the Praecepta gerendae rei publicae, Plutarch chooses to single out Lucullus and Sulla as well as Q. Fabius Maximus and Cato the Elder along with a number of Greek pairs as examples of the workings of political patronage: “For just as ivy rises by twining itself about a strong tree, so each of these men, by attaching himself while still young to an older man and while still obscure (a[doxo") to a man of reputation (ejndovxw/), being gradually raised up under the shelter of his power and growing great with him, fixed himself firmly and rooted himself in the affairs of state” (mor. 805e–f). This is certainly not without significance, yet it need not imply that Plutarch viewed their political relationship as singularly intimate and totally harmonious. For a similar list of examples in the An seni sit gerenda res publica (mor. 791a) highlights Sulla’s guidance not of Lucullus but of Pompey, whose rise is likewise associated with the dictator in the ensuing chapter of the Praecepta (mor. 806e). Notwithstanding, the ‘Sullan’ reading of Lucullus’ early career is largely congruent with the picture presented in the latter’s Life, where the personal connexion between the two politicians receives much emphasis throughout the section covering the period until Sulla’s death (Luc. 1–4). Still, the protagonist’s loyalty to the later dictator constitutes only one of the factors determining his actions; for Plutarch is careful regularly to highlight Lucullus’ Hellenic qualities, and to dissociate him from the ruthless severity commonly attributed to Sulla’s policies during and after the Civil War.3 Following the opening chapter of the Life, the biographer records that Lucullus gave many proofs of courage and sagacity (tovlmh" deivgmata parevsce kai; sunevsew") in the Marsic War, but that 2 Mommsen 1909, 67: Lucullus “war unpopulär als entschiedener Anhänger der Oligarchie”; Gruen 1974, 39. For Lucullus’ ‘conservatism’ cf. most notably Schütz 1994, esp. 5–9 and 96–106, with the remarks in chapter 1 at nn. 5ff. and the discussion below at nn. 31ff. 3 See also chapter 2 at nn. 36ff.

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it was more on account of his steadfastness and mildness (di’ eujstavqeian kai; pra/ovthta) that the consul of 88 attached the young noble to himself (Luc. 2.1). Various modern authors have found it difficult to relate Plutarch’s wording to the historical circumstances since it appears to be somewhat at odds not only with the requirements of military service in general but also with Sulla’s supposed harshness in particular.4 While Arthur Keaveney has taken eujstavqeia and pra/ovth" to imply that the commander had been looking for a “reliable subordinate”, Günter Schütz has forcefully rejected any implication of mildness, suggesting to render the terms as “unerschütterlicher Gleichmut” (imperturbable equanimity).5 Rather than doing violence to Plutarch’s text, however, it seems preferable to interpret the passage as reflecting the biographer’s emphasis on his hero’s Hellenic character traits as well as his own views on the qualities of a good statesman and general. The beginning of Lucullus’ military career evidently provided a suitable opportunity to introduce the notion of pra/ovth" into the narrative, though this is not to exclude that Plutarch may have found similar words of praise in the proLucullan source that apparently underlies the first chapters of the Life.6 Beyond this, the events described by Plutarch have been connected with a passage in Appian reporting that among Sulla’s senior officers (a[rconte") only one quaestor was prepared to join in the consul’s march on Rome in 88 (civ. 1.57.253). Considering the closeness of the two politicians in the following years, Ernst Badian’s suggestion to identify this magistrate with Lucullus is certainly tempting but cannot, of course, be adduced in the present context to corroborate that very closeness.7 One may wonder whether a figure that was to become as prominent as Lucullus would have been likely to be mentioned in the extant sources, or whether Plutarch, who was familiar with Sulla’s memoirs,8 would have been inclined to omit the incident from his biographical portrait, yet this kind of speculation does not lead much further. What is more, the date of Lucullus’ quaestorship has recently been suggested to be 87 rather than 88 on the basis of various inscriptions relating to his ensuing operations in the East and their use of the terms quaestor (tamiva") and proquaestor (ajntitamiva") respectively.9 Indeed, the only relevant text from mainland Greece, which can confidently be assigned to the year 87, on the one hand, and 4 For

Sulla’s reputation cf. the references cited below, n. 22. Keaveney 1992, 16; Schütz 1994, 544. Also note Van Ooteghem 1959, 192. 6 See below at n. 23. 7 Cf. Badian 1962, 54f. = 1964, 220, whose argument is approved by Levick 1982, 503; Keaveney 1992, 17f., and others, including standard reference works like Broughton 1986, 121; Will 1999, 166. Additional titles are cited by Schütz 1994, 5410; Letzner 2000, 136120, who suspects Appian’s statement to be exaggerated. 8 See chapter 1 at n. 71. Taeuber 1994, 11812 employs Plutarch’s silence as his main argument against Badian’s hypothesis. 9 Cf. Schütz 1994, 54–58 and – independently, as it seems – Thonemann 2004, 80f. The inscriptions (IG IX 2.38 = SIG3 743 as well as Inscriptions de Délos 1620; Inschr. Ephesos 2941; TAM V 2.918; MAMA IV 52; IG XII 1.48 = SIG3 745) are discussed in chapter 6 at nn. 23ff. Also note the detailed analysis in Wosnik 1963, 44–52, who leans towards 88 as the year of Lucullus’ quaestorship. 5 Cf.

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five later inscriptions from the Aegean and Asia Minor on the other do accord with this interpretation. However, another document from Mopsuestia, which presumably dates from 86 yet refers to Lucullus as tamiva" kai; ajntistrav[thgo"], does not fit the pattern10 – quite apart from the fact that precision with regard to Roman magistracies cannot necessarily be taken for granted in these texts.11 If Lucullus’ involvement in Sulla’s march on Rome remains uncertain, it is beyond doubt that the young noble served as one of the proconsul’s closest associates during and after the First Mithridatic War. Throughout Plutarch’s narrative of Lucullus’ exploits as (pro)quaestor and naval commander in this period, the protagonist’s conscientious commitment to the mission of gathering ships in support of Sulla’s war effort is strongly emphasised.12 Thus the biographer highlights the envoy’s businesslike approach towards Ptolemy IX on the occasion of his splendid reception at Alexandria and, in particular, his eagerness to return to his embattled commander rather than visit the sights of Egypt (Luc. 2.9).13 While Lucullus’ earlier efforts at reforming the constitution of Cyrene seem to imply a prolonged sojourn on the North African coast (Luc. 2.4f.),14 the later decision immediately to continue the journey to Asia Minor instead of spending the winter in Cyprus serves to reinforce the stress on the proquaestor’s hurry (Luc. 3.2f.). At any rate, the overall impression is one of military efficiency and a strategy designed to make for a swift return to his superior’s main forces. Most notably, Plutarch underscores the protagonist’s personal loyalty in the following treatment of the missed opportunity to co-operate with Sulla’s domestic opponent C. Flavius Fimbria in order to capture Mithridates at Pitane in a concerted attack by land and sea (Luc. 3.4–8).15 Relating that Lucullus rejected Fimbria’s promise of glory and the prospect of diminishing by comparison the significance of Sulla’s military exploits, the biographer all but ignores the partisan nature of his hero’s decision, which allowed Rome’s external enemy to get off the hook. Only in vague terms does he indicate that another course of action could have ended the war, thus avoiding infinite evils. Instead, he apologetically suggests three alternative explanations for Lucullus’ refusal to join forces with Fimbria and prevent Mithridates’ escape by sea (Luc. 3.8): reverence for justice towards Sulla (ta; pro;" Suvllan divkaia), disregard for Fimbria, and divine fortune (qeivan ... tuvchn).16 10 Cf. Sayar et al. 1994 (= SEG 44, 1994, 1227), and see chapter 6 at n. 25. For the date cf. Taeuber 1994, 116–120; further Thonemann 2004, 80f., who suggests, contra Taeuber (p. 119), that Lucullus was addressed by an embassy from Mopsuestia during his stay in Greece in 87. 11 Pace Thonemann 2004. 12 For the stages of Lucullus’ voyage see also chapter 6 at n. 24. 13 On this passage see also chapter 3 at nn. 5ff. As pointed out there, Cic. ac. pr. 11f. on Lucullus’ participation in lengthy philosophical debates should not be read as documentary evidence for the duration of his stay in Egypt. 14 Cf. also Ios. ant. Iud. 14.114, and see chapter 2 at nn. 37ff. and chapter 6 at n. 36. Keaveney 1992, 22f. suggests that Lucullus extended his stay in Cyrene in order to evade the enemy; contra Schütz 1994, 6561. 15 On Fimbria and his army see chapter 5 at n. 3. 16 Cf. also Oros. 6.2.10. For modern assessments cf. Schütz 1994, 71f. with discussion and further references; also Van Ooteghem 1959, 311 with several quotations.

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After the successful conclusion of Lucullus’ naval command, Plutarch continues to dwell on the relationship between the proquaestor and his superior, though he is careful to dissociate the protagonist from the harsher features of Sulla’s policies both in Asia Minor and in Italy. Describing the dire situation in the economically exhausted province of Asia in the wake of the Peace of Dardanus, the biographer actually contrasts Lucullus’ honest (kaqarovn), just (divkaion), and mild (pra/`on) approach with Sulla’s severity (calepovthto") and with the grievous (baruv) and grim (skuqrwpovn) task of collecting money for him (Luc. 4.1).17 On the other hand, the supreme commander’s conduct of the Civil War in Italy and the ensuing proscriptions are merely glossed over in a generic reference to the evils brought upon the inhabitants of the Peninsula by both Sulla and Marius (Luc. 4.4). Still, the biographer is at pains to point out that his hero, once again thanks to some divine fortune (qeiva/ tini; tuvch/), was not involved in this as a result of his commitments in Asia Minor. Notwithstanding their long-time separation, Plutarch suggests that Sulla held Lucullus in high regard as a friend, and underlines the closeness of the two politicians by reporting a double gesture of sympathy from Sulla’s will: the dedication of the ex-dictator’s as yet uncompleted memoirs to his erstwhile associate and Lucullus’ appointment as the guardian of the deceased’s son Faustus (Luc. 4.5).18 Later in the narrative, Sulla is mentioned several times in passing, and invariably appears in a favourable light. In the context of the capture of Amisus by Lucullus’ troops, he figures as a model on account of his good fortune (eujtucivan) for having saved Athens from destruction (Luc. 19.5).19 Then, in a laudatory passage on Lucullus’ generous treatment of the Sinopeans, Plutarch inserts a reference to Sulla’s advice concerning the significance of dreams as extended in his autobiography (Luc. 23.6).20 Finally, upon describing the circumstances of his hero’s death and the resulting grievance on the part of the people at Rome, the biographer recalls Sulla’s funeral in the Campus Martius (Luc. 43.3).21 The Lucullus as a whole and its early chapters in particular thus propound a remarkably positive view of the figure of Sulla, who is commonly associated with cruel excesses and tyrannical rule rather than with justice and moderation in both contemporary and later authors.22 What is more, Lucullus himself is consistently 17 See

also chapter 2 at nn. 40f. the dedication cf. also the references cited in chapter 1, n. 71; further Pomp. 15.3. On Sulla’s request that Lucullus should elaborate the material of his autobiography see chapter 2 at n. 4. Carcopino 1931, 2323 surmises that the dedication might have been added by Lucullus himself, but this rests on the idiosyncratic view (see below, n. 26) that the dictator’s memoirs were revised according to the wishes of the Metelli. 19 Cf. the treatment in Sull. 14.5–9, which highlights plunder and slaughter, but also Sulla’s clemency upon capturing the city; further mor. 202e (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata); App. Mithr. 38.148–39.152; Liv. per. 81.1; Strab. 9.1.20; Vell. 2.23.3; Flor. 1.40.10; Memnon, F 22.11, and the distinctly negative appraisal in Paus. 1.20.6f.; 9.33.6. In addition, note Behr 1993, 77f. on Sulla’s own view. 20 Cf. also Sull. 6.10. 21 See below at n. 114. 22 Cf. Laffi 1967, 255–277; Lanciotti 1977/78; Hinard 1984; Diehl 1988; Dowling 2000; Christ 2002, 155–165. 18 For

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represented as a competent commander, a just administrator, and a loyal subordinate. Presumably, Plutarch’s account of the protagonist’s relationship with Sulla is, at least indirectly, informed by a source that closely reflected Lucullus’ own point of view: perhaps the dictator’s memoirs for the period of the First Mithridatic War and quite probably Archias’ eulogising piece for the later episodes relating to the capture of Amisus and Sinope.23 Given the prominence of Sulla in the Lucullus, it is somewhat astonishing to see that Lucullus is all but ignored in the Sulla, which – like the former biography – may have been composed at a relatively early stage in the production of the Lives.24 Of course, the consul of 88 was more important to his long-time subordinate than vice versa, but still one should have expected a summary report on Lucullus’ naval mission in the First Mithridatic War or an explicit reference to his rôle as Sulla’s heir.25 Nevertheless, there is no reason to doubt the closeness of the two politicians, which is duly emphasised by the vast majority of modern scholars.26

Lucullus and the ‘Sullan’ Oligarchy While the personal connexion between Lucullus and Sulla is firmly established, the material pertaining to the former’s political rôle after the latter’s death is certainly more difficult to interpret. Before shifting his attention to the war against Mithridates, Plutarch dedicates only two chapters to Lucullus’ consulship and Roman domestic politics in the seventies. Having introduced the theme of the protagonist’s rivalry with Pompey (Luc. 4.5–5.3), which shall be analysed in the next section, the biographer concentrates on two incidents from Lucullus’ term as 23 Sulla is suggested by Heeren 1820, 156; Gleitsmann 1883, 24–27; Reinach 1895, 4412; Vitelli 1898, 371f.; also Beversen 1888, 22f., who suspects that Plutarch relied on both Sulla and Livy. Cf. Scardigli 1979, 104; eadem 1989, 254f. for further discussion; also Peter 1865, 106. For Plutarch’s quotations from Sulla’s autobiography see chapter 1 at n. 71. For the use of Archias’ poem see chapter 1 at n. 69, chapter 2 at n. 93, and chapter 6 at nn. 54ff. Also note Stadter 1965, 103, who thinks of Posidonius or Strabo for the account of the proquaestor’s stay at Cyrene; further Olshausen 1963, 1622 and 1824, who suggests Lucullus’ own memoirs – which are, however, unattested – for the report on his visit to Alexandria. 24 According to Jones 1966, 67f. = 1995, 108–111, the Lysander – Sulla occupied one of the places between seven and nine in the series, but note the objections in Delvaux 1995, 101–103, who attributes it to the fourth book, and in Nikolaidis 2005, 306–309 and 314f., who suggests the twenty-first volume, whereas Van der Valk 1982, 307 believes it to be the eleventh pair. 25 Apart from Sull. 6.10 on the dedication of the protagonist’s memoirs, Lucullus is briefly mentioned in the context of operations in Greece (11.8) and at the end of a passage dealing with his brother (27.17). He is not named in Sull. 38.2 on Sulla’s will. 26 Cf., e.g., Keaveney 1992, whose chapter on their relationship (pp. 15–31) is entitled “master and pupil”; Schütz 1994, 91: “besonders tief ausgeprägten Nah- und Treuverhältnis”; pace Carcopino 1931, 186–238, esp. 231ff., who unconvincingly surmises that Lucullus eventually sided with an anti-Sullan coalition organised by the Metelli and Pompey which allegedly ousted the dictator from power. Against this view cf., e.g., Van Ooteghem 1954, 79–87; pace Worthington 1992.

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consul, namely his dealings with the enigmatic Cethegus and with the tribune L. Quinctius. In these episodes, the protagonist is for the first time presented in opposition to popular leaders: “For the man who at that time was the most powerful in the state by virtue of saying and doing everything to court the favour (pro;" cavrin) of the people, Cethegus, hated Lucullus, who loathed his manner of life, full as it was of disgraceful amours and wanton transgressions. Against this man Lucullus waged open war” (Luc. 5.4f.). The figure of the ‘demagogue’ thus emerges as a negative foil for Plutarch’s hero, serving to underscore Lucullus’ superiority in terms of political outlook and moral integrity.27 However, the passage is of limited value as evidence for the consul’s stance in public affairs; for the nature of Cethegus’ influence as a power broker is entirely unclear, and Plutarch may well have generalised from what he knew about his rôle in promoting the decision to assign the province of Cilicia to Lucullus, which he deals with in more detail in the following chapter.28 A more precise indication of the consul’s position seems to be furnished by the ensuing comment on his conflict with Quinctius: “But Lucius Quinctius, another demagogue, who rose up against the institutions of Sulla and sought to confound the established order of things, he turned from his purpose by much private exhortation and public admonition, and allayed his ambition (filotimivan), thus treating in as statesmanlike and salutary a manner (politikw`" kai; swthrivw") as was possible the beginnings of a great disease” (Luc. 5.5).29 Apart from commending Lucullus for his prudent management of state affairs, this passage contains an instructive hint not only at private but also at public persuasion, the broader significance of which shall be explored in the penultimate section of this chapter. At the same time, Plutarch underlines the consul’s commitment to the Sullan constitution in the face of popular demands for a revision of the dictator’s reforms. Considering Lucullus’ personal closeness to Sulla, it is not surprising that the biographer’s statement has often been viewed as indicative of a more comprehensive political programme or factional alignment designed to preserve the ‘conservative’ legacy of the former Civil War general. In Matthias Gelzer’s article for the Pauly-Wissowa, for instance, Lucullus is characterised as “the most faithful Sullan”, while Keaveney has labelled him “a true Sullan republican”.30 Adopting a more systematic approach, Schütz has tried to locate him within a 27 On

Cethegus’ immorality see also chapter 3 at nn. 12f. and the remarks below. below at nn. 39f. 29 Cf. also Sall. hist. frg. 3.48.11 Maur. = 3.34.11 McGush.; further 3.17 = 3.8, which may or may not refer to Quinctius, as is suggested by Maurenbrecher; Cic. Cluent. 110; 136; Ps.Asconius, p. 189 Stangl. Also note Gruen 1974, 2554. On the metaphor of the disease see chapter 7 at nn. 15 and 32ff. 30 Gelzer 1926, 413: “den treuesten Sullaner”; Keaveney 1992, 181, who rejects the phrase “Sulla’s ‘political heir’”, though (p. 21614). Also note Dahlheim 1992, 204: Lucullus, “der Treueste der Treuen, ... war ein Mann des Senats und von dem politischen Glauben beseelt, dessen gerade restaurierte Herrschaft unter allen Umständen zu wahren”; likewise idem 2000, 235. Further examples are approvingly cited by Schütz 1994, 11648. 28 See

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small circle of Sulla’s “political ‘disciples’” by combining contemporary references to groups of politicians who are recorded as opposing changes to the dictator’s constitutional order.31 Yet the problem with the German scholar’s method is that he only comes up with one [!] citation of Lucullus, namely a passage from the speech delivered by the tribune C. Licinius Macer in Sallust’s Histories. Complaining about the people’s lack of libertas, Macer alludes to the consul’s conflict with Quinctius, and mentions Lucullus’ name in conjunction with two further associates of Sulla’s, viz. Q. Lutatius Catulus and C. Scribonius Curio (hist. frg. 3.48.9–11 Maur. = 3.34.9–11 McGush.).32 To this, one might add a reference from Cicero, indicating that neither the consul of 74 nor his successors acted upon a senatus consultum authorising a potentially embarrassing investigation into bribery in the senatorial jury courts (Cic. Cluent. 137).33 At any rate, this is hardly sufficient evidence for positing Lucullus’ attachment to a ‘conservative’ faction whose representatives stubbornly acted in defence of the Sullan constitution. While the admittedly fragmentary sources on the seventies fail to provide much corroboration for Lucullus’ ‘Sullan’ policies, it is important to understand that the label of a Sullanus may not be particularly meaningful in the context of an analysis of the political scene at Rome after the former dictator’s death. In actual fact, it had been difficult for a distinguished noble to survive the Civil War and the following prosecutions without either being or becoming a Sullan. Accordingly, the leading members of the senatorial aristocracy in the seventies had all espoused Sulla’s cause at some point during the preceding decade, and quite a few of them owed their wealth and influence to him. To be sure, the dictator’s supporters were far from forming a homogeneous group in terms of their political background and the origins of their association with the victorious general.34 Nevertheless, no persistent cleavage emerges within the aristocracy in the wake of Sulla’s death, even though the system was soon to be challenged by Lepidus and Sertorius, and in spite of recurrent conflicts with individual tribunes.35 These struggles notwithstanding, fundamental alterations to the dictator’s political arrangements were at first out of the question, and when major reforms, including the restitution of tribunician power, were eventually 31 Cf. Schütz 1994, 96–106, quotation 101: “politischen ‘Jüngern’”. Also note Rossi 1965, 150–152, whose excessive schematism is rejected even by Schütz (p. 100). Groups of similar composition have been identified by Keaveney 1982, 208f. = 2005, 172f.; idem 1984, 148f., and others. Cf. the references compiled by Schütz 1994, 104114. 32 Apart from this, Schütz’ argument is mainly based on two references in Asconius, pp. 60 and 79 Clark to five politicians, including Lucullus’ brother Marcus, who testified against the former tribune C. Cornelius in 65. On the issues involved cf. Griffin 1973, whose interpretation may be closer to Schütz’ than to that advanced in the present chapter, though. Further note the commentary ad locc. by Marshall 1985, 226f. and 276, also 255. 33 Cf. Kelly 1970 for context and details. 34 Cf. Keaveney 1984. Also note Badian 1962; Hackl 1982, 232–254, who both emphasise the tardy support for Sulla on the part of the senatorial majority. 35 On the lack of unity among the tribunes and the diversity of their initiatives cf. generally Thommen 1989, esp. 127–147.

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enacted during the consulship of Pompey and Crassus in 70, they do not appear to have provoked open resistance on the part of a ‘Sullan’ faction.36 The difficulty of identifying stable groups of politicians with a particularly ‘conservative’ agenda is also mirrored by the fact that a selective reading of the evidence can produce very different hypotheses about factional alignments. Most notably, Briggs Twyman has surmised that Lucullus belonged to a “ClaudioMetellan factio” centred around Pompey and opposing the political figures commonly associated with an oligarchic outlook.37 However, this reconstruction is even less appealing than the mainstream interpretation; for it is plainly irreconcilable with the sources already discussed. More importantly, from a methodological point of view the combination of isolated prosopographical data is simply inadequate as the sole basis for assigning individual politicians to rival camps. Contrary to the erstwhile standard view of factions or Adelsparteien as the determining forces in Roman politics, Christian Meier and Peter Brunt have demonstrated that coalitions kept fluctuating and were usually forged on specific issues rather than around set programmes or ideological objectives.38 While this is almost universally recognised in theory, it is remarkable how reluctant most historians are to abandon factional categories in more specialised studies dealing with individual personalities. In the particular case of Lucullus’ political rôle in the seventies, Plutarch’s account of his temporary alignment with Cethegus serves to cast additional doubt on the validity of the orthodox interpretation. As indicated above, the biographer not only introduces this influential politician as one of the consul’s principal opponents, but also highlights his demagogic skills and moral inferiority. Nevertheless, Plutarch reports that Lucullus was prepared to woo Cethegus’ support in his quest for the governorship of Cilicia, corrupting the latter’s mistress Praecia

36 Cf. Gruen 1974, 23–46; also, with a focus on Pompey’s rôle, Sherwin-White 1956, 5–8, who was the first to undermine the erstwhile standard view of his consulship in 70 as ”a peaceful coup d’état” (Syme 1939, 29); Twyman 1972, 816–827, on whose prosopographical inferences see below; Hillman 1989, 54–77; idem 1990; Evans 2003, 37–63; further Martin 1965, 7–23; Pina Polo 1994, 85–92; pace Stockton 1973; Perelli 1982, 165–171. An intermediate position is assumed by Seager 1994, 210–215 and 223–228. Also note Rossi 1965, who acknowledges the nobility’s approval of the reforms but regards Lucullus as the leading figure of a distinct and intransigent ‘Sullan’ group; similarly but less rigidly Laffi 1967, 179–213 and 263–265; further Marshall/ Beness 1987, 361–378. In addition, note Thommen 2006, 4–11 on constitutional aspects. The view of the year 70 as a major turning-point has been revived by Millar 1998, 66f. and passim. 37 Cf. Twyman 1972, 850–854 and passim; also Hillman 1989, 96–98 and passim. Further note Carcopino’s claim that the Metelli and Pompey formed a coalition against Sulla, as outlined above, n. 26. 38 Cf. Meier 1980, esp. 163–190; Brunt 1988e; also idem 1965, esp. 16–20/ 1988, 377–381; further Wiseman 1976; Develin 1985, 43–57; Bruhns 1990; pace Twyman 1972, 827–832 and passim. On the traditional model of political factions as advanced by Friedrich Münzer and others cf. Hölkeskamp 2001 with further references. Also note the modification of the orthodox view in Broughton 1972; further Gruen 1974, esp. 47–50, who tries to have the best of both worlds.

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by gifts and flatteries (dwvroi" ... kai; kolakeivai"), and thus adopting techniques conventionally assigned to the repertoire of the ‘demagogue’ (Luc. 6.1–5).39 Evidently, the affair causes much embarrassment to the biographer, who points out that his hero acted “contrary to his nature (para; th;n eJautou` fuvsin)” and only had recourse to the assistance of the disreputable politician in this particular instance. The foundation of Cethegus’ power remains a mystery, though, and it is quite likely that Plutarch magnified its extent in order to demonstrate the necessity of the consul’s expedient.40 Be that as it may, the episode shows that Lucullus’ policies and alliances could be adapted according to circumstances, and should caution against the rigid application of a factional model as a way of classifying his rôle in public affairs. In the aftermath of Lucullus’ consulship, Plutarch’s narrative only gives rare glimpses into the protagonist’s involvement in Roman domestic politics. Twice the biographer points out that the proconsul intervened to circumscribe the activities of the tax-gatherers and money-lenders in the province of Asia (Luc. 7.7; 20).41 In the second of these instances, he goes on to establish a connexion between the displeasure of the publicani and financiers on the one hand and the agitation of the popular leaders in the capital on the other: “These men, accordingly, considered themselves seriously damaged, and raised a clamour against Lucullus at Rome. They also bribed some of the demagogues to proceed against him, being men of great influence, who had got many of the active politicians in their debt” (Luc. 20.5).42 The illicit methods of Lucullus’ enemies and their demagogic cries thus stand in marked contrast to the affection for the proconsul on the part of the provincials, which is underlined in the same paragraph. Likewise, the shouts of the demagogues at Rome are cited as opposing Lucullus’ invasion of Armenia (Luc. 24.1), and their charges resurface around the time of the general’s first military setbacks: “In their disaffection, the soldiers were furnished with the greatest excuses from the demagogues at Rome. Out of envy (fqovnw/) of Lucullus, these brought charges against him for protracting the war through love of power and love of 39 Cf.

also Cic. parad. 40. Cethegus’ influence cf. also Sall. hist. frg. 1.77.20 Maur. = 1.67.20 McGush.; Cic. Brut. 178; Ps.-Asconius, p. 259 Stangl. Taylor 1949, 70; eadem 1960, 121f. implausibly depicts him as a “political boss” who effectively controlled the vote of the tribes in the comitia. Also note Staveley 1972, 195, who singles him out as exemplifying a class of “political managers”. 41 See also chapter 2 at nn. 45ff. 42 In the secondary literature, resentment on the part of the equites and the world of finance has frequently been cited as the chief reason for Lucullus’ replacement in the Mithridatic command. Cf., e.g., Cobban 1935, 115–122 and passim; Badian 1972, 98f. with 15184; Keaveney 1992, 114f. with 236f.31; also Nicolet 1966, 353f.; further Schulz 1997, 81f., who suggests that the equites had actually supported Lucullus in 74 and subsequently changed sides. However, it would have been rather unusual for them to act as a coherent political bloc, and there were obviously other motives for recalling the proconsul as well. Moreover, Cic. ac. pr. 3 indicates that Lucullus’ arrangements in the province of Asia remained in place under his successors. Cf. Twyman 1972, 864–866; Brunt 1988b, 152f. with 5162. On Plutarch’s view of the ordo equester see below at n. 83. 40 On

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wealth (uJpo; filarciva" kai; filoploutiva")” (Luc. 33.5). In this context, the commander’s old adversary L. Quinctius is singled out as the principal proponent of the opposition against him.43 Significantly, these attacks are recorded immediately after Plutarch’s key passage on the protagonist’s reversal of fortunes and his inability to court the plh`qo" stratiwtikovn, which shall be discussed in chapter 5. Quinctius thus figures as the first in a succession of ‘demagogues’ whose skill at manipulating the multitude contrasts with Lucullus’ defective leadership.44 Shortly thereafter, the biographer has the young officer Clodius deliver a harangue in front of the proconsul’s soldiers and incite them to mutiny (Luc. 34.1–5),45 then he highlights the popular support for Pompey as the new commander against Mithridates (Luc. 35.9), and finally he deals with an attack on the protagonist’s conduct of the war by the tribune C. Memmius, who “strove to excite the people against him. He charged him with appropriating many riches for himself, and with protracting the war, and sought to persuade the people not to grant him a triumph” (Luc. 37.2).46 In the end, Lucullus only manages to overcome Memmius’ resistance due to the assistance provided by his senatorial friends: “The foremost and most influential men (oiJ prw`toi kai; dunatwvtatoi) mingled with the tribes, and by much entreaty and exertion (pollh/` dehvsei kai; spoudh/`) barely persuaded the people to allow him to celebrate a triumph” (Luc. 37.3). Apart from reiterating the contrast between ‘demagogue’ and aristocracy, this episode clearly brings out the necessity of mustering support among the people – a point that shall be developed more fully at a later stage in this chapter. Taken together, the above-considered passages clearly demonstrate that the depiction of Lucullus’ rôle in Roman politics is decisively shaped by Plutarch’s themes and emphases. Before drawing further conclusions as to the implications for the reading of the noble’s career, the special case of Pompey, who is the most complex of the foils employed in the biographer’s narrative, shall be analysed in a separate section. Lucullus and Pompey As has been seen in chapter 3, Pompey’s moderation figures prominently as an antithesis to the protagonist’s extravagance in the final part of the Lucullus.47 At 43 On Lucullus’ bribery of Quinctius as reported in Sall. hist. frg. 4.71 Maur. = 4.68 McGush. see below at n. 118. 44 Cf. Hillman 1993, 215: “Lucullus must constantly struggle from this point on against those better at manipulating the plh`qo" both in and out of the army: Quinctius, Clodius, Pompeius, Memmius”. 45 See chapter 5 at nn. 1 and 24ff. for discussion and contextualisation. 46 Cf. also Cat. Min. 29.5–7, and see the next section of this chapter as well as chapter 6 after n. 107 on the involvement of Pompey. Also note Cic. ac. pr. 3: inimicorum calumnia triennio tardius quam debuerat triumphavit. On the political background of Memmius’ activities cf. Bellemore 1996. 47 See chapter 3 at nn. 48ff.

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the same time, it has been argued that the former’s presence in a number of anecdotes indicates a connexion with contemporary propaganda and the political struggle between the two men. In Plutarch’s narrative, this only represents the final stage of their antagonism, though. It is in the context of Sulla’s will that Pompey, who failed to get a mention in the document, emerges as a personal rival of the ex-dictator’s principal heir (Luc. 4.5).48 According to the biographer, the testament was the cause of their difference and jealousy (diafora`" ai[tion kai; zhlotupiva"), which is then explicitly related to their burning desire for glory (pro;" dovxan).49 The theme of their conflict is further developed in the following account of Lucullus’ consulship, which presents the protagonist as being exasperated due to the reputation his opponent was winning (eujdokimw`n) in the campaign against Sertorius (Luc. 5.2f.).50 Given his view of their enmity, Plutarch must have found it difficult to make sense of the fact that Lucullus actively supported Pompey’s request for additional money to be allocated to the war effort in Spain. Fitting the episode into his argument, the biographer claims that the consul was fearful lest the young general might abandon Sertorius, take control of Rome, and snatch the command against Mithridates, which Lucullus himself was eventually to obtain. Plutarch’s version seems to echo Pompey’s letter as elaborated by Sallust (hist. frg. 2.98 Maur. = 2.82 McGush.), who certainly employed it as a means of illustrating the commander’s lust for power.51 In fact, the author of the Histories has Pompey warn that together with his army the whole Spanish war might come to Italy if the Senate refused to send the money requested, adding that as a result the consuls feared for the state as well as for their own laus and dignitas.52 However, this probably implies no more than that they were alarmed at the prospect of Rome – and themselves – fighting Sertorius in Gaul or Italy.53 Rather than scheming against a personal enemy with aspirations for the Mithridatic command, Lucullus apparently acted in what he perceived to be the public as well as his own interest.54 Of course, this isolated reference to co-operation between the 48 See

above at n. 18. Hillman 1991, 316 points out, Plutarch regularly employs the term diaforav rather than e[cqra to characterise the relationship between the two politicians. 50 Cf. also Pomp. 20.1f. 51 Cf. Syme 1964, 201; McGushin 1992, 242. On Sallust’s unfavourable attitude towards Pompey see chapter 1 at n. 68. Also note Heftner 1995, 50–52 with a comparison of the versions in Sallust and in Plutarch’s Pompeius. 52 Cf. hist. frg. 2.98.10 Maur. = 2.82.10 McGush.: qui nisi subvenitis, invito et praedicente me exercitus hinc et cum eo omne bellum Hispaniae in Italiam transgradientur, and ibid., section D: L. Lucullus et M. Cotta litteris nuntiisque Pompei graviter perculsi cum summae rei gratia tum, ne exercitu in Italiam deducto neque laus sua neque dignitas esset. Also note Plut. Sert. 21.8f., where Lucullus is not mentioned. 53 Cf. Gruen 1971, 7f.; idem 1974, 20; Twyman 1972, 850–852; Seager 1979, 19f. with n. 53 = 2002, 33f. with 20053; idem 1994, 212; Hillman 1989, 59–63; idem 1990, 446–448; Keaveney 1992, 51–54; Heftner 1995, 153f.; Southern 2002, 46f.; pace McGushin 1992, 246f., who imposes Plutarch’s interpretation on Sallust’s text. 54 If Plutarch’s version is difficult to accept, there is even less reason to follow the argument submitted by Badian 1958, 279–281, who suggests that Pompey was to “be kept away and busy” 49 As

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consul and Pompey is hardly sufficient to buttress the view that the two were political allies at the time.55 Notwithstanding, Thomas Hillman has convincingly argued that the supposed early instances of inimicitiae between the two politicians presumably reflect Plutarch’s own rationalisation based on their wellattested enmity at a later stage.56 Towards the end of the biographer’s narrative of the Third Mithridatic War, Pompey’s name reappears in the aforementioned speech delivered by Clodius, which contrasts the dire situation of Lucullus’ soldiers with the alleged wealth of the veterans of the war in Spain, suggesting that the double triumphator would be a suitable successor to the incumbent commander against Mithridates (Luc. 34.4f.). While the harangue itself shall be dealt with in chapter 5, its final remarks on the material concerns of the soldiers are important in the present context inasmuch as they present Pompey, unlike Lucullus, as responding to the interests of the plh`qo". Beyond this, modern scholars have often cited Clodius’ speech in support of the proposition that Lucullus’ supposed enemy was the principal instigator of the proconsul’s replacement in the Eastern command.57 As has been shown above, however, it is far from clear that inimicitiae prevailed between the two politicians prior to the new commander’s arrival in Asia Minor. In fact, Plutarch later indicates that Lucullus extended financial support to Pompey’s operations against the pirates (Luc. 37.6). Granted, the double triumphator ultimately benefited from the proconsul’s replacement, but he could hardly have foreseen that Lucullus’ immediate successor, M’. Acilius Glabrio, would fail in his assigned task; nor could he have anticipated that his own campaign against the pirates would be concluded in timely fashion to allow him to take over another command within a few months.58 (p. 279) while his supposed rival faction, most notably Lucullus, would be able to assemble supreme power in the East “to defeat the young adventurer” (p. 280). Against this interpretation cf. the references cited in the previous note as well as Ballesteros Pastor 1996, 458f.; pace Will 1982, 493. 55 Pace Twyman 1972, 850–854 and 872f.; Hillman 1989, 107f., 118–125, and passim. 56 Cf. Hillman 1991; also Gruen 1971, 8. For the traditional view of Sulla’s will as the cause of their antagonism cf., e.g., Keaveney 1992, 37f.: “Sulla – consciously or otherwise, we cannot say – ... had left a legacy to Rome itself: enmity between the two men”, and the references in Hillman 1991, 3152–3. 57 Cf. Ferrero 1902, 293f. and passim; Cobban 1935, 115–126; Smith 1957; Gruen 1974, 131: “master plan”; Nicolet 1976, 180; Martina 1982, 176f.; Keaveney 1992, 120f.; Southern 2002, 66–69; also Seager 1979, 32 = 2002, 43, but note his revised view in 2002, 175. Additional references are provided by Williams 1984, 221f.2. Further note Hayne 1974 and esp. DondinPayre 1993, 231–239 on the rôle of Glabrio, who has been suggested to have clashed with Lucullus as early as 78 on the basis of Cass. Dio 36.41, but both the chronology and the identity of the magistrates involved remain uncertain. Cf. David/ Dondin 1980; contra Schütz 1994, 123–126; also Ryan 1994, 186–192. On the stages of Lucullus’ replacement as governor and commander see chapter 6 at n. 90 with references. 58 Cf. Williams 1984; also Gelzer 1943, 31f. = 1963, 176f.; idem 1959, 70 = 1984, 67; Twyman 1972, 864–873; Hillman 1989, 97f.; Kallet-Marx 1995, 312–315; further Moreau 1982, 180–182.

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Having described the growing disaffection towards Lucullus on the part of the soldiers, Plutarch elaborates on the antithesis between Pompey’s reliance on the people and the protagonist’s agreement with the Senate, stating that the former “had been appointed as commander in the war against Mithridates and Tigranes on account of the favour of the people (cavriti tou` dhvmou) and the flattery of the demagogues (kolakeiva/ tw`n dhmagwgw`n). But the Senate and the nobles considered Lucullus a wronged man in so far as he was superseded not in a war but in a triumph, and was forced to relinquish and turn over to others not his campaign but the prizes of victory in his campaign” (Luc. 35.9).59 The association of Pompey with demagogues and popular favour is clearly designed to further Plutarch’s analysis in the Lucullus; for in the Pompeius, it is the successful general himself who is portrayed as being inferior to others in terms of political aptitude and public appeal.60 Apart from outlining the interpretative framework for the political episodes covered in the remainder of the Lucullus, the above-cited passage sets the stage for the ensuing encounter of the two antagonists in Galatia.61 Interestingly, both the account in the Lucullus (36.2–4) and the more detailed one in the Pompeius (31.3–13) display a certain bias against the double triumphator.62 Moreover, the latter version is preceded by very negative remarks about Pompey’s dissimulation as well as his innate ambition and love of power (th`" ejmfuvtou filotimiva" kai; filarciva"), which were supposedly given fuel by his diaforav with Lucullus (Pomp. 30.8). In both Lives, the meeting is prepared by an episode about the latter’s lictors providing those of Pompey with fresh laurel, which is in one case interpreted as signifying that the proconsul’s exploits served to adorn his successor’s command (Luc. 36.4), and in the other, more negatively, as indicating that Pompey had come to carry away the fruits of Lucullus’ victories and his glory (Pomp. 31.6). As to the conference itself, the version in the Pompeius is much richer, describing 59 Cf. similarly Pomp. 30.3; also Luc. 46.2f.; Cat. Min. 29.5; App. Mithr. 97.448; civ. 2.9.32. Wirth 1983, 45 and 1329, surmises that such a view cannot be that of Lucullus or of an “ernst zu nehmende zeitgenössische Quelle”, but this rests on his untenable assumption that the failure of Lucullus’ strategy and the brilliance of Pompey’s achievements were so obvious that they could not possibly have been called into question by contemporaries. 60 Cf., e.g., Pomp. 46.3f.; 47.5–10 regarding Caesar, and 46.7f.; 48.8–12 concerning Clodius, with the analysis in Hillman 1994a, 258–272; also idem 1992, esp. 133: “Pompeius is constantly outmaneuvered and manipulated by tribunes and demagogues more in touch with the People”. For the difference in emphasis with respect to Lucullus’ substitution cf. also García Moreno 2005, 226. 61 In addition to the Plutarchan passages discussed in the text, cf. Pomp. 46.5; Strab. 12.5.2; Cass. Dio 36.46; 37.49.4; Vell. 2.33.2. For the consequences of the hostility between the two generals for their respective amici in Asia Minor see chapter 6 at nn. 90ff. 62 Cf. Heftner 1995, 208f. and 216–224; also Scardigli 1989, 276–278; further Rizzo 1963, 45; De Wet 1981, 126f. Notwithstanding, the biographer also states that Pompey’s prestige was superior to Lucullus’ (mei`zon ajxivwma) due to the former’s two triumphs (Luc. 36.2; Pomp. 31.6), which is somewhat at odds with the overall tenor of the passages. Gelzer 1943, 228 = 1963, 167113 ascribes this observation to Theophanes, but the whole of the respective sections obviously cannot be based on a pro-Pompeian source. On Theophanes’ account see chapter 1 at n. 75.

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a furious exchange of insults designed to establish the respective claims to the honour of having conquered Mithridates. Conspicuously, Lucullus only reacts to Pompey’s hostile charges and receives more space to present his counter-accusations. Evidently, some of the differences between the two versions are related to the emphases of the individual Lives: in the Lucullus, Plutarch chooses to highlight the disaffection of the 1,600 legionaries who were to follow the former commander to Rome as a means of emphasising the defects in the proconsul’s leadership.63 By contrast, the account in the Pompeius tends to focus on the successful general’s unlimited ambition and thirst for glory. Beyond this, Simon Swain has suggested that Plutarch deliberately made the struggle between the two politicians appear less serious in the Lucullus in order to avoid any inconsistency with the protagonist’s ability to check his filotimiva.64 This explanation is certainly possible, even though one may wonder why the biographer should have missed the chance to mention Pompey’s attack on Lucullus’ filarguriva (Pomp. 31.8) and to elaborate on the theme of their diaforav, which is elsewhere connected with Lucullus’ control of filotimiva and his decision to abandon public affairs.65 Consequently, another way of making sense of the greater amount of detail in the Pompeius appears to be more satisfactory. Building on his reading of several late Republican Lives, Christopher Pelling has hypothesised that Plutarch at some point discovered an important source on the mid-first century which forms the basis of his narrative in a number of biographies including the Pompeius, but not in the earlier Lucullus.66 In the particular case of Lucullus’ encounter with Pompey, the British Plutarchist has accordingly argued that the additional detail in the Pompeius should reflect the extra knowledge which the biographer acquired as the series advanced.67 Incidentally, the same explanation appears to account for the fact that the aforementioned Memmius is simply described as challenging the protagonist’s claim to a triumph in the Lucullus (37.1f.), whereas the later Cato Minor (29.5) reveals that Memmius acted more to gratify Pompey (eij" th;n Pomphivou cavrin) than out of personal enmity – a detail that would evidently have suited Plutarch’s analysis in the former Life, too.68 Following Lucullus’ return to Rome and the conflict over his triumph, the biographer makes the statement quoted at the beginning of this chapter about the Senate’s hopes concerning the consular’s future rôle as an opposer of the “tyran63 See

chapter 5 at nn. 19f. Swain 1992, 315. 65 See chapter 3 at nn. 23 and 97. 66 Cf. Pelling 1979, esp. 74–80 and 84f./ 2002, 1–7 and 12f. The Agesilaus – Pompeius is usually assigned a place shortly after the twelfth book of the series. Cf. Jones 1966, 67f. = 1995, 108–111, who – like Nikolaidis 2005, 310f. – takes it to be the fifteenth pair. 67 Cf. Pelling 1979, 75f./ 2002, 3. Also note Lavery 1994, 267 with n. 23, who accepts Pelling’s argument but suggests that Plutarch’s “subject-bias” should also be taken into account; further García Moreno 2005, 226f., who does not consider the Lucullus to be an early Life (pp. 229f.). 68 Cf. Hillman 1993, 217. See also chapter 6 after n. 107. 64 Cf.

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ny” of Pompey (Luc. 38.2), thus reiterating the dichotomy between the two men and their political techniques established earlier on. In the ensuing part of the biography, which focuses on Lucullus’ mode of life during his supposed retirement, the theme of the protagonist’s antithesis to Pompey is continued on the level of anecdotes and aphorisms, as outlined in chapter 3. Furthermore, it has been pointed out that Plutarch eventually qualifies the notion of Lucullus’ abandonment of public affairs in a section that once again dwells on his enmity towards Pompey and his association with the Senate, especially with Cicero and Cato (Luc. 42.4–6).69 While Lucullus and Cicero are in general terms described as close friends and “companions in their political choice (koinwnoi; th`" ejn politeiva/ proairevsew")”, Cato figures as a champion of the Senate and Lucullus’ ally in the struggle against Pompey and his partisans.70 Plutarch’s account of the controversy over the ratification of the Eastern acta and the assignment of land allotments to Pompey’s veterans is rather brief, but mentions the physical violence employed by the promoters of these measures and the expulsion of their adversaries from the Forum.71 What is more, the biographer indicates that it was the resistance of Lucullus and others that drove Pompey into the fateful alliance with Caesar and Crassus, though Pelling has rightly observed that the Lucullus version of these events is “very skimpy” in comparison with the later Lives that deal with the so-called First Triumvirate.72 After that, the narrative moves on to the Vettius affair, which once more highlights the protagonist’s exposure to charges produced against him before the people (Luc. 42.7f.):73 on account of an alleged plot against Pompey’s life, Vettius “was examined in the Senate, where he accused sundry other persons, but before the people he named Lucullus as the man who had engaged him to kill Pompey”. At the same time, the incident serves to denounce the demagogic intent of Lucullus’ opponents, who had employed Vettius as a frontman to make false accusations. Finally, an episode reported in the anecdotal section of the Life on a joint dinner of Lucullus, Cicero, and Pompey ought to be considered (Luc. 41.4–7). In apparent contradiction to his earlier affirmations, Plutarch introduces the story by stating that, despite their diaforav, Lucullus and Pompey were “accustomed to treating and conversing with each other frequently and kindly (ejpieikw`")”. Taking this passage at face value, some scholars have inferred that the relationship between the two politicians was not characterised by inimicitiae even after 69 See

chapter 3 at nn. 95ff. these political friendships cf. also Cic. 31.5; Cat. Min. 29.6–8; 31.1; 31.7. 71 For Lucullus’ rôle in the struggle cf. also Plut. Pomp. 46.5f.; 48.2–4; Cat. Min. 31.1; 31.7; Cass. Dio 37.49.4f.; App. civ. 2.9.32; Vell. 2.40.5; further Suet. Iul. 20.4. 72 Cf. Caes. 13f.; Pomp. 47.1–48.7; Crass. 14.1–5; Cat. Min. 31–33, with Pelling 1979, 76f./ 2002, 3–5, quotation 76/ 3. 73 Parallel sources: Cic. Att. 2.24.2–4 = 44.2–4 Sh.B.; Vatin. 24–26; Suet. Iul. 20.5; App. civ. 2.12.43–45; Cass. Dio 38.9.2–4. Note that Plutarch omits the affair in the later Caesar and Pompeius. On the political background cf. Marshall 1987, 121–124, who suggests that the incident was staged by Pompey in order to revive his popularity, with further references. 70 On

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their acrimonious encounter in Asia Minor, or that they eventually resolved their differences and became friends at some point thereafter.74 As Hillman has demonstrated, however, the anecdote recounted by Plutarch has apparently lost its original context of an attempted reconciliation between the two generals in 61 or 60, with Cicero acting as a mediator. Hence the episode only deceptively suspends their antagonism, and Plutarch’s remark is likely to be his own rationalisation designed to explain to the reader that Pompey could possibly have been invited to Lucullus’ house for dinner.75 Aristocrats and the Crowd In the preceding two sections, it has been seen that the representation of Lucullus’ political activities is decisively shaped by Plutarch’s interpretative framework. In particular, the persistent emphasis on the protagonist’s agreement with the Senate and on his opposition to Pompey and various demagogues serves to develop the larger theme of Lucullus’ inability to deal with the plh`qo", which is presented as the principal cause of his setbacks both in the war against Mithridates and in the sphere of domestic politics. Evidently, the issues raised in the Lucullus reflect the biographer’s general interest in exploring the relationship between aristocratic leaders on the one hand and the people at large on the other. As the political treatises amply demonstrate, Plutarch was profoundly concerned with the rôle of the multitude in the context of local government under the Empire. Time and again, his writings focus on the requirements of prudent leadership and underline the need to thwart the designs of irresponsible demagogues while appeasing the immoderate desires of the many in order to avoid political upheavals that might endanger the authority of the oligarchic establishment.76 In the Lives, too, Plutarch frequently discusses the behaviour of the multitude with a view to accentuating certain character traits of his heroes, who are regularly confronted with ill-considered demands on the part of the supposedly irrational plh`qo".77 While the protagonists are expected not to succumb to the demands of the crowd but to provide active leadership in the long-term interest of the commonwealth, they also tend to earn the biographer’s praise for winning the affection of the people as a result of demonstrating their integrity and political 74 The

former is suggested by Schütz 1994, 9561, the latter by Scardigli 1989, 276, 290, and

490545. 75 Cf. Hillman 1994, esp. 194f. Further note Epstein 1987, 83f. on the bitterness of their inimicitiae. 76 Cf. esp. mor. 813a–c; 816a–825f (Praecepta gerendae rei publicae), with the discussions in Carrière 1977, 238–241; Desideri 1986; Swain 1996, 173–183. Also note the more general treatments in Quaß 1993, 394–421; Lewin 1995, esp. 36–43 on the relationship between the local aristocracy and the dh`mo" in the Greek cities under the Empire. For Plutarch’s attitude towards Roman rule see chapter 2 at n. 79. 77 On the – largely negative – depiction of the people in the Lives cf. Saïd 2005. See also the discussion in chapter 5 on the plh`qo" of soldiers and chapter 7 at n. 15.

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acumen.78 In this respect, there is no fundamental difference between Greek and Roman Lives: the statesman is called upon to lead an essentially monolithic dh`mo", persuading and trying to control it in the face of challenges posed by demagogues, would-be tyrants, and external enemies.79 Not surprisingly, the Hellenic elements tend to dominate; for Plutarch’s thought was obviously closer to the world of the Greek polis both of his own day and of the classical past than to that of the res publica.80 Owing to the parallel arrangement of the Lives, moreover, the common emphasis on the confrontation between statesman and people in Greece and Rome is mutually reinforcing.81 As Pelling and others have pointed out, Plutarch’s perspective on Roman politics is to a large extent determined by this schematic divide between the Senate (boulhv) on the one hand and the people (dh`mo") on the other.82 Evidently, the Lucullus is no exception: while the overall amount of space devoted to political affairs is comparatively small, the foregoing analysis has amply demonstrated that the protagonist is regularly depicted as struggling with the people and their leaders. Little regard is paid to the complexities of Roman politics as Pompey and the publicani are lumped together with various ‘demagogues’, whereas Lucullus himself figures as a champion of the senatorial ‘party’.83 In addition, the parallel Life with its focus on the vicissitudes of Cimon’s standing with the Athenian dh`mo" and on his opposition to democratic reform (Cim. 10.8; 15.1–3) serves to intensify the sense of antagonism between statesman and multitude, though neither the Greek nor the Roman protagonist are depicted as invariably unpopular.84 The synkrisis, too, is relevant in this context; for both heroes are described as aristocratic natures (ajristokratikai; fuvsei") in a passage (Luc. 45.7) that shall be discussed more fully in the conclusion of the present enquiry.85 However important the specific perspective of Plutarch undoubtedly is, it must not be overlooked that the emphasis on the boulhv – dh`mo" divide in Roman politics is by no means unparalleled. Sallust in particular establishes a similar contrast between the nobilitas and the Senate on the one hand and the people on the other.86 This observation may be especially relevant in the present case since much of the middle part of Plutarch’s Lucullus is likely to be based on the 78 Cf. Frazier 1996, 110–124; also Beck 2004, 107–114. For the Roman Lives in particular cf. De Blois 1992, 4590–4612. 79 For the Greek Lives cf. Prandi 2005, esp. 146–152; for the Roman Lives see the following notes. 80 See also chapter 2 at nn. 74ff. 81 Cf. Pelling 1986, 175–181/ 2002, 217–222 on the ‘Greekness’ of the Roman Lives, esp. 175/ 217f., where he considers the imposition of Greek concepts on Roman reality and vice versa. 82 Cf. Pelling 1986, 165–187/ 2002, 211–225; also De Blois 1992 passim; Mazza 1995, esp. 264–268; Sion-Jenkis 2000, 66–69. 83 On Plutarch’s tendency to intermingle the ordo equester with the dh`mo" cf. Pelling 1986, 179/ 2002, 220; Mazza 1995, 251–256. 84 For Cimon’s popularity among the Athenians and the allies see chapter 2 at nn. 66ff. 85 See chapter 7 at n. 15. 86 Cf. esp. Iug. 41f.; Cat. 38.

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Histories of the Caesarian writer.87 Nevertheless, the biographer’s interpretation should not simply be attributed to his sources; for it was he who selected and purposefully re-elaborated whatever material he may have been using.88 Up to this point, the analysis of Lucullus’ political career has largely been confined to its representation in Plutarch, occasionally supplementing the biographer’s account with information from other sources directly related to the Roman noble’s activities. In many instances, the material has been found to be distorted, and the reader has repeatedly been harassed with lamentations about the scarcity of the evidence. As a next step, it will be vital to go beyond the particulars of Lucullus’ career by looking at the broader context of Roman political culture before reconsidering his involvement in public affairs in the final years of the Republic. Current debates on the nature of political life in Republican Rome revolve around the rôle of the people, the balance of the constitution, and the foundations of the nobility’s authority. Challenging the traditional emphasis on aristocratic factions and the Senate as the major players in the political arena, Fergus Millar has called attention to the importance of the populus Romanus as a sovereign body, thus advocating a revaluation of the ‘democratic’ element in the constitutional arrangement.89 In support of this reassessment, the British scholar has stressed the wide-ranging formal competencies of the comitia as legislative assemblies and the prominence of oratorical references to the supreme power of the people. At the same time, his studies have highlighted the regular participation of crowds in contiones and the conduct of political debates before the eyes of the multitude. However, Millar’s propositions about the ‘democratic’ nature of Roman politics have widely been repudiated, most notably by a number of German historians, who have pointed out that his analysis was too narrowly focused on constitutional issues while neglecting the social, cultural, and ideological sources of the nobility’s supremacy and its reliance on informal channels for wielding power.90 As Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp has demonstrated with regard to the middle Republic, the well-being of the populus and the res publica as a whole lay at the heart of an aristocratic ethos centred on achievement, office-holding, and service to the state, which manifested itself in the public display of individual accom87 See

chapter 1 at nn. 65f. as well as the discussion in chapter 5. the specifically Plutarchan accentuation of the divide between Senate and people cf. Pelling 1986, 181–187/ 2002, 222–225, who concludes that few ancient writers “apply the boule – demos analysis quite so relentlessly and exclusively as Plutarch” (2002, 222, slightly modifying the original wording in 1986, 183). 89 Cf. Millar 1998 as well as his earlier contributions collected in idem 2002, 85–182. Broadly similar views are advanced by North 1990; Yakobson 2006. Also note the summary treatments of the constitutional balance in Pani 1997, 140–169; Lintott 1999, 191–213; further Pani/ Todisco 2005, 61–70 on participation. 90 Cf. the surveys in Jehne 1995; idem 2006, 14–24; Hölkeskamp 2000; also Burckhardt 1990, 89–99; Ward 2004; Marcone 2006. Hölkeskamp 2004a; also idem 2006 gives a more general appraisal of current debates on the political culture of the Republic. In addition, note Eder 1991, who highlights – and exaggerates – the differences between Roman and Athenian ground rules for the exercise of power. 88 On

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plishments.91 According to Martin Jehne, moreover, the frequent invocation of the people’s libertas and maiestas reflects a ritual of “joviality” which effectively served to entrench the sway of the ruling élite.92 More controversially, Egon Flaig has suggested that the comitia essentially performed the function of expressing consensus rather than that of making decisions, citing the ritual dimension of the assemblies, the influence of the presiding magistrates, and the actual voting record of almost universal approval.93 To a large extent, then, the structure of public deliberation enabled the nobility to frame political discourse so as to prevent an open debate based on the free exchange of opposing arguments, as Robert Morstein-Marx has shown in an incisive analysis of the balance of power between speakers and listeners.94 Evidently, these arguments go a long way towards invalidating the notion of ‘democracy’ at Rome. Nevertheless, they should not be taken to imply that the attitude of the public was irrelevant to the decision-making process, or that political bargaining was a cosy business conducted within the restricted circle of the leading aristocrats. While Millar’s conclusions about the workings of the Roman constitution are highly questionable, his studies have convincingly demonstrated the importance of oratory, collective action, and public opinion to the world of Republican politics. In this respect, his argument has been buttressed by Günter Laser, who has shown that neither ambitious individuals nor the aristocracy as a whole could afford to ignore the concerns of the multitude, its reactions to political initiatives, and its general consent to the leadership of the nobility.95 Similarly, Hölkeskamp has pointed out that Roman politicians were constantly required to assert themselves in public speeches with a view to advertising their virtues, their achievements, and their commitment to the res publica.96 91 Cf.

Hölkeskamp 1987, 204–240; idem 1993. Also note Bleicken 1981, 242–249; Flaig 1993; Gruen 1996. 92 Cf. Jehne 2000. Also note Gruen 1991 on ‘popular’ discourse as a means of regulating access to power, and Morstein-Marx 2004, 204–240, who argues that ‘optimate’ politicians regularly donned the mask of the popularis upon addressing the contiones; further the observations in David 1980a. – As for the concept of libertas, Wirszubski 1950, 9–15 and passim; Hellegouarc’h 1963, 542–565; Bleicken 1972, 24–29, 57f., and passim all emphasise its limitations in terms of political equality and popular sovereignty, but also note Brunt 1988c, esp. 321– 346, who suggests that there were diverging interpretations of libertas, denying that the notion of auctoritas was inherent in the concept; further Marco Simón/ Pina Polo 2000, esp. 267–269 and 278–283 on the meaning of libertas in antithesis to concordia. 93 Cf. Flaig 1994, esp. 13–18; idem 1995, esp. 77–99; idem 1998; idem 2003, 155–231; contra Laser 1997, 66–69; Pani 1997, 143f. Also note Bleicken 1975, 268–294, who makes observations similar to Flaig’s but takes them to reflect the supposed ‘decay’ of the assemblies; further Noè 1988 on the consensus expressed in the contiones. In addition, cf. Jehne 2000, 217– 220 and 224–226; idem 2001 on the assemblies as rituals serving to promote integration; further Hopkins 1991, 492–495. 94 Cf. Morstein-Marx 2004, esp. 136–143 and 160–287. 95 Cf. Laser 1997; also Pina Polo 1996, 140–150. 96 Cf. Hölkeskamp 1995; also Laser 1997, 32–40 and 138–182; Bücher 2006, 24–51. In addition, note Jehne 2000a on the potential impact of oratorical performance on political careers; also Vanderbroeck 1987, 130–138 on the importance of image building; further Eich 2000, 113– 127 on the public nature of Roman politics.

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At the same time, oratory and other channels of communication were employed to disseminate and to counter rumours and propaganda as a way of manipulating public opinion.97 Moreover, agreement and dissent could not only be voiced in the assemblies, but also found expression at the games and in the theatre, where ambitious individuals eagerly sought to impress the audience, influence its composition, and elicit favourable reactions.98 However advantageous noble ancestry may have been, even the most distinguished aristocrats could not simply take their popularity for granted, but were obliged regularly to communicate with the people and sway their opinion.99 Consequently, interaction with the crowd was part and parcel of the political process and by no means confined to the demagogic repertoire of populares politicians;100 rather appealing to the multitude and mobilising public support were indispensable to initiatives of any kind. These requirements are further underlined by the increasing propensity to resort to violence and intimidation in order to secure the physical control of the city centre.101 That the plebs was nevertheless far from dominating the political scene at Rome may be substantiated by some considerations regarding the size and composition of the crowds attending public meetings.102 Thus Henrik Mouritsen has emphasised the distinction between the populus as an abstract concept and its actual representation in particular gatherings, calling attention to the low number of participants in the contiones and in the comitia.103 Confirming and partly reducing the figures of earlier estimates, the Danish scholar has computed that the 97 Cf. Pina Polo 1996, 94–119; also Vanderbroeck 1987, 104–112; Evans 1992, 1–9; Laurence 1994; further Eich 2000, 350–353. 98 Cf. Flaig 1994, 18–25; idem 1995, 100–124; idem 2003, 232–251; Laser 1997, 92–102; also Bell 2004, 172–239, who more generally highlights the impression made on the public by spectacular performance; likewise Flower 2004, esp. 338–340; Sumi 2005, esp. 1–46, who tends to put more emphasis on the active rôle of the audience; further Veyne 1976, 394–401. 99 With regard to elections, this point is forcefully argued by Yakobson 1999, 211–225 and passim, whose analysis seems to overestimate the influence of the plebs and the significance of political issues in determining voting behaviour, though. Cf. also Brunt 1988d, 424–431; Laser 1997, 126–138. On the limited impact of ancestry as a factor determining career prospects cf. Hopkins/ Burton 1983, but also note the rather different interpretations suggested by Badian 1990, 410–413; Burckhardt 1990, 84–88; further Develin 1979, 31–57; Beck 2005, 114–154 on the middle Republic. 100 On the instrumental character of the popular “method” cf. Meier 1965, esp. 554–560; also idem 1980, 109f., 127f., and passim; Martin 1965, esp. 210–226; Bleicken 1972, 34–48; further the earlier work by Strasburger 1939, 794 = 1982, 339f. and passim. Against this view cf. Weische 1966, 1–6; De Martino 1973, 130–132; Serrao 1974, 176–195; Perelli 1982, 13–21; Mackie 1992; Pina Polo 1994, 76–84; also Ferrary 1997b, 227–231. In addition, note Hellegouarc’h 1963, 518–525, and the references cited above, n. 92, esp. Morstein-Marx 2004, 204–240 on the “invisible ‘optimate’”. 101 Cf. Lintott 1968; Nippel 1981; idem 1988, esp. 54–69; idem 1995, esp. 47–57; Vanderbroeck 1987, 146–153. 102 On the limited political impact of the plebs urbana cf. generally Meier 1980, 107–115; also Brunt 1966, esp. 21–27 = 1974, 95–102; pace Irsheid Barros 2001. Further note Purcell 1994, esp. 673–680. 103 Cf. Mouritsen 2001, esp. 8–17.

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venues for the assemblies only accommodated a few thousand people – up to a theoretical 30,000 in the case of the Campus Martius.104 Evidently, this only corresponds to a tiny fraction of the citizen body as a whole, yet it is fair to suppose that the usual attendance was actually much lower.105 Apart from revealing the limited scale of Roman politics, these figures obviously imply that it was normally not too difficult for a relatively minor group of interested people to dominate public meetings on particular occasions. However, this must not be read as evidence for the decisive influence of a homogeneous plebs contionalis or an exclusive upper-class audience since the composition of the crowd was bound to vary according to circumstances.106 To be sure, the comparatively well-off could more easily afford to participate in the political process, but this does not mean that they commonly outnumbered members of the urban proletariat in the contiones, which were frequented by all kinds of people including humble clients and hired claques. Even in the case of the comitia, where the influence of the upper class was reinforced by the structural bias of the centuries and, to a lesser degree, of the tribes in favour of the wealthy, it should not be assumed that the majority of citizens was effectively disenfranchised.107 The mutability of the crowd and the potential impact of small numbers also help to account for the ostensible ‘fickleness’ of the people; for however poor the attendance may have been, every assembly would have been regarded as embodying the populus Romanus. Consequently, it is problematic to generalise about the public appeal of individual politicians, who may have been most popular with some segments of the public and at the same time decidedly unpopular with others. In these circumstances, their eventual success was to a large extent a matter of mobilisation.

104 Cf. Mouritsen 2001, 18–37; also Nicolet 1976, 391–401; MacMullen 1980; Thommen 1995, 364f.; Laser 1997, 51–53; Jehne 2006a, 223–225; Scheidel 2006, 217–220. The standard figure for the Campus Martius used to be 70,000, as estimated by Taylor 1966, 52–54. 105 Cf. Cic. Sest. 109, and the references cited in the previous note; further De Marchi 1912. 106 Against the assumption of a plebs contionalis consisting of shopkeepers and craftsmen from around the Forum – as advanced by Meier 1980, 114f.; Vanderbroeck 1987, esp. 81–93; also Treggiari 1969, 167f.; Perelli 1982, 233–236 – cf. Mouritsen 2001, 38–62, who tends to misrepresent the contio as a partisan demonstration dominated by members of the élite, though. Cf. the important qualifications in Morstein-Marx 2004, 11f. and 128–136, also 143–150 on the heterogeneity of public opinion, and in Yakobson 2004. Further note Pina Polo 1996, 127–134; Laser 1997, 199–209 and 216–218. The idea of the plebs contionalis is revived by Jehne 2006a, 228–234, who concludes that this group “was the partner of the aristocratic politicians in producing legitimacy for their decisions and the hierarchical order of society” (p. 233). This interpretation appears problematic in so far as it leaves unexplained the changing reactions of the crowd, implying that the attitude of the “semi-professional contionales” (p. 232) was essentially deferential irrespective of who spoke and what was said. 107 For the impact of the centuries and tribes on the voting cf., e.g., Taylor 1949, 50–62; eadem 1960, 149 and passim; eadem 1966, 64–68; Staveley 1972, 133–142 and 198–202. The influence of the lower classes is stressed – and exaggerated – by Yakobson 1999, esp. 20–64; also Pani 1997, 148–154; contra Ryan 2001. On the ritual dimension of the group voting see above, n. 93.

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Lucullus and the Multitude Considering the general picture outlined in the preceding paragraphs, it is clear that any attempt at categorising Lucullus as a kind of ‘hard-core optimate’ operating with little or no concern for the desires of the people will be difficult to reconcile with the complex and volatile nature of Roman politics. Granted, his career prospects were undoubtedly enhanced by his noble ancestry, most notably the two figures mentioned by Plutarch at the very beginning of the Lucullus (1.1), viz. the protagonist’s grandfather (cos. 151) and his uncle Metellus Numidicus (cos. 109).108 Yet this does not mean that his rise to prominence was predetermined to the extent that the attainment of the consulship suo anno was no more than a matter of living up to expectations.109 Rather it is a reasonable assumption that the consul of 74 cannot have advanced his career without the approval of a fair section of the politically active both within and without the Senate. As shall be seen in the present section, there are in fact various passages in Plutarch as well as in other sources implying that Lucullus was sometimes quite successful in mustering popular support for his personal goals. Given the importance of public opinion, the skill of persuasion obviously played a pivotal rôle in the advancement of a senatorial career. Significantly, Plutarch inserts a positive remark about Lucullus’ rhetorical talents in the very passage that attributes the protagonist’s reversal of fortunes to his mounting difficulties with plh`qo": “He was tall and handsome, a powerful speaker (deino;" eijpei`n), and equally prudent (frovnimo"), as it seems, in the forum and in the field” (Luc. 33.3). The biographer’s statement is corroborated, moreover, by a reference in Cicero’s Brutus (222) which cites Lucullus in a catalogue of exemplary orators as a man of acuteness (acutum). In this context, it should also be recalled that Plutarch attributes his hero’s success as consul against the tribune Quinctius to both private exhortation and public admonition (Luc. 5.5).110 Beyond this, the biographer repeatedly highlights Lucullus’ popularity among the citizens, especially at the beginning and at the end of the Life. In the opening chapter, Plutarch deals with the prosecution brought by Lucullus and his brother against the former accuser of their father, Servilius the Augur (Luc. 1.2f.), noting that “the Romans thought this a splendid deed (pra`gma lamprovn), and the trial was in everybody’s mouth, like an act of prowess (ajristeivan)”.111 Still in the same chapter, the joint aedileship of the Luculli brothers is cited as a source of popular favour towards Lucius in recognition of his waiting for Marcus to reach the required age (Luc. 1.8f.).112 Incidentally, both the publicity of the trial and the magnificence of the aedileship are confirmed by a number of other authors.113 108 Cf. Van Ooteghem 1959, 8–17; Keaveney 1992, 1–6 with further references. For the connexion with the Metelli cf. also Schütz 1994, 28–32. 109 Thus Schütz 1994, 112: “virtualiter vorgezeichnete Makellosigkeit der Lucullschen Karriere”. 110 See above at n. 29. 111 On the circumstances of the trial cf. Schütz 1994, 38–49. 112 Cf. also mor. 484d–e (De fraterno amore), and Schütz 1994, 83–91, who argues that the

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Later in Plutarch’s narrative, the account of the protagonist’s triumph is concluded by a remark on the splendid (lamprw`") feast which Lucullus had organised for the inhabitants of the city and the surrounding vici (Luc. 37.6). On this occasion, the triumphator also made a generous distribution of wine, as Pliny the Elder notes in a quotation from Varro (nat. 14.96). Following Lucullus’ death, Plutarch finally observes that ”the people grieved just as much as if he had died in the prime (ejn ajkmh/`) of his military and political career. They flocked together, and when the body had been carried into the Forum by the noblest young men, they demanded that it should be buried in the Campus Martius, where Sulla also had been buried” (Luc. 43.3). The favourable reference to Sulla suggests that in this instance the people largely consisted of individuals sympathetic to the former dictator, notwithstanding the fact that their attitude is rather unlikely to have been shared by the majority of the populus.114 Of course, one might object that the above-cited passages were isolated episodes, and that Plutarch would have been likely to misrepresent or to exaggerate Lucullus’ popularity in the attempt to mitigate his criticism of the politician’s deficient style of leadership. After all, it has been pointed out that the biographer is generally interested in exploring his heroes’ relationship with the public, and that in the Lucullus in particular he regularly emphasises the protagonist’s renown as a mild administrator and philhellenic benefactor.115 However, the passages in question are not only at odds with the theme of Lucullus’ difficulties with the plh`qo", but they are all connected with occasions commonly associated with political self-advertisement and the public display of ability, generosity, and virtue: the first criminal prosecution, the aedileship, the triumph, and the funeral. While none of these references will be surprising to those familiar with the common requirements of a senatorial career, there is no reason to doubt Lucullus’ frequent success with the Roman public or certain sections thereof. Consequently, this aspect must not be ignored or dismissed as meaningless to an understanding of his political rôle in the final years of the Republic. To be sure, the foregoing attempt to revalue Lucullus’ standing with the public is based on a very limited amount of data, and it is of little consolation that the same patently applies, if to a lesser degree, to the standard view highlighting the consular’s lack of popular appeal. Although the relevant material has been seen to be considerably distorted, moreover, there is no denying that the latter interpretation is closer to Plutarch’s emphasis and presumably to that of his joint term of office served to make the aedilician games more splendid and at the same time less costly for the family. 113 For the trial: Cic. ac. pr. 1; off. 2.50; Quint. inst. 12.7.4; for the aedileship: Cic. off. 2.57; Val. Max. 2.4.6; Plin. nat. 8.19; Gran. Licinian. 36.6; vir. ill. 74.1 (erroneously citing the quaestorship). 114 Sumi 2005, 43 even considers the possibility that the crowd thus “intended to mock the honor bestowed upon Sulla”, yet this is pure speculation. On the dictator’s ambiguous reputation cf. the references cited above, n. 22. Also note the public controversy surrounding his funeral: Plut. Sull. 38; Pomp. 15.4; App. civ. 1.105.493–106.500. On Sulla’ tomb in the Campus Martius cf. La Rocca 1999. 115 See chapter 2.

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sources.116 Still, the scattered references to Lucullus’ popularity show that his career was in many ways conditioned by the dynamics of Roman politics and the necessity of mobilising public support. Above all, however, it is important to understand that these passages do not invalidate the more conspicuous ones dealing with the impression made on the people by Lucullus’ opponents; for the ostensible contradiction between them is readily explicable as a reflexion of the changing composition of popular gatherings and the volatile nature of Roman politics. To say that the consul of 74 appealed to some segments of the public but failed to muster the support of others is of course a very general statement and may be of little value as long as it cannot be related to specific incidents and problems. Yet unlike the alternative view of a ‘conservative’ champion of the aristocracy, it has the distinct advantage of being compatible with the current state of research on the political culture of the Roman Republic. What is more, the ability actively to influence public opinion in the capital clearly helps, if only in broad terms, to account for the vicissitudes of Lucullus’ career. While some of his early successes were undoubtedly related to Sulla’s backing, his skills in private and public persuasion enabled him to get his way on all major issues during his consulship. By contrast, he suffered setbacks at the time of his absence from the city during the Third Mithridatic War when he evidently lacked the kind of lobby that Caesar later organised whilst campaigning in Gaul. Following his return to Rome, moreover, Lucullus came under attack for improper conduct of the war, but was essentially barred from political activity as he waited for his triumph. Finally, his opposition to Pompey was decisively undermined by his adversaries’ success in manipulating public gatherings and in securing the physical control of the Forum. Ambition and Competition While the previous section has served to emphasise the significance of public opinion and its manipulation, the following discussion shall attempt to outline a more comprehensive picture of the various techniques adopted by Lucullus in order to promote his personal goals. Of course, this is not meant to invalidate any of the preceding points about the importance of mustering support among the people at large, but it may help better to contextualise these efforts within the sphere of political relations. Again, the source material only allows to consider a few scattered episodes, most of them being connected with the conduct of the war in the East. As pointed out above, Lucullus is reported to have obtained the province of Cilicia and hence the command against Mithridates due to the assistance of Cethegus and the bribery of Praecia.117 While Plutarch’s account is evidently 116 This is most obvious with regard to the related theme of Lucullus’ problematic relationship with the plh`qo" stratiwtikovn. See chapter 5. 117 See above at n. 39.

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coloured by topoi related to the depravity of these two figures, the affair shows the importance of backstage bargaining beyond factional alignments or political programmes. Likewise, a fragment of Sallust’s Histories indicates that Lucullus again resorted to bribery during the Mithridatic campaign in order to dissuade Quinctius from opposing his staying in command.118 Both episodes are significant not only as evidence for the noble’s readiness to reach an understanding with his political opponents, but also on account of the fact that they are associated with these people’s public behaviour in the Senate and towards the populus. The same should apply to the anecdote about Lucullus’ dinner with Cicero and Pompey if its proposed interpretation as an attempted reconciliation be correct.119 Apart from this, the opposition to the proconsul’s conduct of the war deserves further consideration. In Plutarch’s account, objections to Lucullus’ policies are primarily ascribed to various demagogues as well as to the general’s own soldiers. While their complaints are mostly represented as excessive and malicious, this should not be taken to imply that there was no factual basis for the charge of prolonging the war.120 As shall be seen in chapter 6, the proconsul apparently lacked senatorial authorisation for his invasion of Armenia, which had secretly been prepared in collusion with a number of Tigranes’ subjects (Luc. 21.2), though the commander’s own propaganda sought to justify the offensive as a preemptive strike (Luc. 23.7).121 In general, Lucullus seems to have operated with a remarkable degree of independence from the political class at Rome, which is reflected in his ability to finance the war without recourse to public funds as well as in his eager wooing of a personal following among the rulers and cities of the East.122 Against this background, it remains rather doubtful whether the proconsul enjoyed the unwavering support of the whole or of the vast majority of the Senate, as Plutarch’s narrative seems to suggest. In this context, it should not be forgotten that the biographer himself calls attention to the opposition of the publicani (Luc. 20.5), who are essentially associated with the activities of the demagogues but must have been connected with members of the noble establishment as well.123 Furthermore, Lucullus’ friends in the Senate are not on record as having made a stand against the lex Gabinia, which served to recall the proconsul and transferred the Eastern command to M’. Acilius Glabrio.124 Only with 118 Cf. hist. frg. 4.71 Maur. = 4.68 McGush.: ut dicit Sallustius, Lucullus pecuniam Quintio dedit, ne illi succederetur. The fragment is usually connected with Plut. Luc. 33.6; contra Gruen 1974, 2554, who places it in the context of Lucullus’ consulship. Schol. Gronov., p. 321 Stangl suggests that other magistrates were bribed, too. 119 See above at nn. 74f. 120 Beyond Plutarch, cf. Sall. hist. frg. 4.70 Maur. = 4.69 McGush., on which see chapter 5 at nn. 42ff.; Cass. Dio 36.2.1f.; also 36.16.1; App. Mithr. 90.411. 121 See chapter 6 at nn. 61ff. for fuller discussion. 122 On the proconsul’s foreign amici see chapter 6, in particular at n. 76 on his financial independence. 123 On the influence of the equites and its limitations see above, n. 42. Apart from the references cited there, cf. also Shatzman 1975, 77f. and 209 with n. 141. 124 On the lack of senatorial opposition to the general’s replacement cf. Keaveney 1992,

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reference to the ensuing conflict with Pompey, who was later sent to succeed Glabrio, does Plutarch mention support for Lucullus from senatorial circles, i.e. at a time when he had already been replaced as supreme commander.125 While modern scholars, following the lead of Ronald Syme, nevertheless tend to view him as “the Senate’s general”,126 it is quite implausible to surmise that Roman politicians were neatly divided on the issue of Lucullus’ conduct of the war along the lines of cleavage between popular leaders on the one hand and the senatorial oligarchy on the other. Considering the personal influence and glory won by the commander in the East, one should beware of underestimating the extent of rivalry and competition within the aristocracy.127 Significantly, this latter point is corroborated by an observation in Plutarch’s key passage on Lucullus’ reversal of fortunes: “Worst of all, not even with men of power and of equal rank with himself could he be in harmony; he despised them all, and thought them of no account as compared with himself” (Luc. 33.2). Like the following remarks about the protagonist’s qualities as a speaker, which have been quoted in the preceding section, this statement has largely been ignored by modern scholars, presumably on account of the much greater prominence of the plh`qo" theme. By contrast, Lucullus’ disagreement with his peers, except for his conflict with Pompey, is not much emphasised in the biography, but may be reflected in the occasional denigration of several of the general’s associates.128 While his senior officer Murena is criticised for his treatment of the scholar Tyrannio and judged to be inferior to his commander in terms of kalokajgaqiva (Luc. 19.8f.),129 Lucullus’ consular colleague Cotta is depicted as imprudently launching a precipitous and abortive attack against Mithridates at the beginning 121f.; also Rossi, 1965, 136 and 150–152, whose reconstruction of factional politics is at variance with the argument of the present chapter. Further note Cic. Manil. 21, which comments on the scarcity of praise for Lucullus on the part of the nobility but is evidently coloured by Cicero’s rhetorical strategy. 125 Cf. Plut. Luc. 35.9; Pomp. 30.3, and, for the chronology, Heftner 1995, 216f. 126 Syme 1939, 29, who presents Lucullus in antithesis to Pompey, “the People’s general”. Syme’s formulation is echoed in plenty of standard accounts, e.g., Gelzer 1959, 70 = 1984, 66; Meier 1980, 85. Contra Twyman 1972, 864–873, whose own reconstruction is vitiated by factional schematism, though. 127 On the competitive element in Roman political culture cf., e.g., Wiseman 1985, 3–13; Patterson 2000, 29–52. In addition, note Rosenstein 1990, 1–8 and 166–168; idem 1993 passim, who addresses the problem of imposing limits on the degree of contention among the élite; more broadly Hölkeskamp 2004a, 85–92; idem 2006, esp. 377–384 on the complementary relationship between competition and consensus; further Flaig 2003, 27–31. 128 Cf. the more detailed treatments in Hillard 1987, 44–47; Ballesteros Pastor 1999, 335– 337. The case of Clodius shall be considered in chapter 5 at n. 24. 129 See also chapter 2 at n. 51. Contrast the positive appraisal of his collaboration with Lucullus in Cic. Mur. 20 and the closeness suggested in Att. 13.6.4 = 310.4 Sh.B. on Murena’s membership of the senatorial commission that was to organise the establishment of Pontus as a province. On the possible association of the two politicians in an equestrian group at Lanuvium see chapter 6 at n. 89. By contrast, Hillard 1987, 45–47 and Tatum 1999, 55–61 surmise that Murena was close to Clodius rather than to Lucullus; however, Cic. har. 42 is hardly sufficient evidence for this.

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of the war (Luc. 8.1f.).130 Likewise, it is out of ambition (filotimouvmeno") that the proconsul’s legate Triarius is said to have taken the offensive against the Pontic king (Luc. 35.1), though another version ascribes his fatal attack to the pressure exerted by his soldiers (Cass. Dio 36.12.3).131 At any rate, it is evident that Lucullus’ setbacks were not merely due to his difficulties with the multitude, but must also be related to conflicts with his peers and within the senatorial aristocracy as a whole. The most important of these controversies was of course the one with Pompey concerning the ratification of the Eastern acta. Undoubtedly, Lucullus’ fierce opposition to his successor in the Mithridatic command was motivated not so much by personal rancour, let alone by factional or ideological imperatives, but by the desire to dispense patronage and to claim the glory of a victorious war.132 In this respect, the struggle against Pompey is also characteristic of Lucullus’ political career in general; for personal advancement and the acquisition of power and prestige have been seen to emerge as its driving forces. Challenging the standard view of Lucullus as a staunch ‘optimate’, Badian has concluded a number of similar observations by affirming, about four decades ago, that the consul of 74 “was not a conservative noble, but a man remarkably free from traditional restraints”.133 While his judgement has done little to influence the course of scholarly debate, the foregoing analysis has confirmed that Lucullus was generally quite flexible in adopting a variety of techniques in order to improve his standing with the public and promote his personal goals. At the same time, Plutarch’s schematic representation of his hero’s opposition to the plh`qo" has been seen to be distinctly one-sided and surely cannot be accepted as the sole basis for a historical interpretation of the consular’s political rôle in the second quarter of the first century. Instead, personal ambition, aristocratic competition, and regular communication with the multitude have been shown to constitute the principal parameters shaping his public career – a career that both reflects and illustrates the volatility of political life in the late Republic.

130 On

Cotta’s disgrace after his return to Rome cf. Linderski 1987 (1995). account is in agreement with App. Mithr. 89.402. Also note Eutr. 6.9.2, and see chapter 5 at n. 79. 132 See chapter 6, esp. at nn. 90ff. 133 Cf. Badian 1968, 37–39, quotation 38. 131 Plutarch’s

5. LUCULLUS AND MILITARY LEADERSHIP Shortly before Lucullus’ recall from the command against Mithridates, the youthful P. Clodius Pulcher, who was at that time serving under the proconsul in the East, is reported to have addressed the legionaries in a harangue that takes up many of their grievances against the long-time commander. According to Plutarch’s version of the speech (Luc. 34.4f.), Clodius complained that “there was to be no end of their countless wars and toils, but they were rather to wear out their lives in fighting with every nation and wandering over every land, receiving no suitable reward from so long a campaign, but convoying the waggons and camels of Lucullus laden with golden beakers set with precious stones”. By contrast, the young patrician calls attention to the alleged prosperity of the men who had fought under Pompey against Sertorius and Spartacus, and finally asks in emotive language: “Why, then, if our campaigns are never to come to an end, do we not keep what is left of our bodies, and our lives, for a general in whose eyes the wealth of his soldiers is his fairest honour?”1 In highlighting the legionaries’ insistent demands for material benefits, Clodius’ speech not only reflects the topos of a general’s authority being challenged by his unruly soldiers, but also performs a key function in Plutarch’s exposition of his hero’s prolonged struggle with the multitude. At the same time, it touches on a set of problems that contributed to the ultimate failure of Lucullus’ campaigns, and epitomises the increasingly delicate relations between military commanders and their troops in the final years of the Republic. Furthermore, the speech is instructive inasmuch as it combines a focus on the legionaries’ greed with a denunciation of the general’s behaviour, bringing charges of personal enrichment and of protracting the war. As shall be seen in the present section, this corresponds to the general picture presented by the ancient sources, most notably Plutarch and Cassius Dio, who repeatedly censure both the soldiers for their want of discipline and the proconsul for his shortcomings as a leader. Taking up the latter criticism, modern scholars tend to emphasise that Lucullus, unlike Sulla, Pompey, or Caesar, lacked what has been termed “personal magnetism”,2 and therefore failed to inspire affection on the part of his men. While there is no reason to dismiss the proconsul’s weaknesses on this count as invalid, it is important, however, to understand that the defects in his leadership on the one hand and the legionaries’ intractability on the other are considerably overdrawn in the sources, which are in many respects contradictory in their attempts to explain the eventual breakdown of Lucullus’ relationship with his troops. Notwithstanding the undeniable difficulties encountered by the general, 1

For the historical and compositional context of the speech see below at nn. 24ff. Brunt 1962, 77/ 1988, 261; similarly Holmes 1923, 201. For other judgements see below at nn. 47ff. 2

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the following analysis shall demonstrate that he was constantly engaged in communication with his soldiers and strove, on many occasions successfully, to gain their support for his ambitious endeavours. Soldiers and Disobedience Throughout the middle section of Plutarch’s Lucullus on the Third Mithridatic War, the biographer highlights the difficulties caused by the legionaries’ avarice, unruliness, and disobedience. From the outset of the campaign, the protagonist is thus challenged by his truculent soldiers, who keep complaining about matters of military strategy, the hardships of their service, and a supposed lack of opportunity for plunder. As a prelude to the outbreak of hostilities in Asia Minor, Plutarch describes the soldiers’ disposition in most disapproving terms: “All these had long been corrupted by luxury and greed (trufai`" diefqorovtwn kai; pleonexivai"), and the Fimbrians, as they were called, had become unmanageable (dusmetaceirivstwn), through long lack of a leader (dia; sunhvqeian ajnarciva"). These were the men who, in association with Fimbria, had killed Flaccus, their consul and general, and had betrayed Fimbria himself to Sulla. They were selfwilled and lawless (aujqavdei" ... kai; paravnomoi), but good fighters, hardy, and experienced in war” (Luc. 7.1f.).3 In contrast to the legionaries’ unruliness, the biographer goes on to bring out his hero’s competence as an able champion of military discipline: “However, in a short time Lucullus pruned off their audacity (qravso"), and reformed the rest. Then for the first time, as it would seem, they made the acquaintance of a genuine commander and leader (a[rconto" ajlhqinou` kai; hJgemovno"), whereas before this they had been commanded by demagogues (ejdhmagwgou`nto), and had thus got used to taking the field as they pleased (pro;" hJdonhvn)” (Luc. 7.3).4 In Plutarch’s narrative, this passage serves to introduce the two key issues raised by the

3

The greed and arrogance of these soldiers is described in Sert. 24.4, too. On the murder of Flaccus and the Fimbrians’ desertion to Sulla cf. also App. Mithr. 51.205–52.210; 59.241– 60.249; Memnon, F 24.1–3; Plut. Sull. 12.13; 23.11; 25.1–3; Luc. 3.8; 34.3; Cass. Dio 30–35, F 104.1–5; Diod. 38/39, F 8; Strab. 13.1.27; Liv. per. 82.4; 83.8; Vell. 2.24.1; Oros. 6.2.9–11; vir. ill. 70. Evidently, these accounts are, to varying degrees, biased against both Flaccus and Fimbria, yet attempts to restore their reputation inevitably involve much speculation. Cf. Bulin 1983, 57–72 (for Flaccus); De Michele 2005, 281–285 (for Fimbria). Mulroy 1988, 159–161 questions the assumption that the Fimbrians were exceptionally mutinous, whereas their intractability is stressed by Aigner 1974, esp. 41; also Gruen 1974, 372. The evidence concerning a real or feigned attempt to desert from Lucullus (Memnon, F 28.2; App. Mithr. 72.309; also Plut. Luc. 11.7; further Sall. hist. frg. 3.33 Maur. = 3.19 McGush., on which see below, n. 38) is too contradictory to allow meaningful conclusions regarding the Fimbrians’ loyalty. Cf. Janke 1963, 88–90; Aigner 1974, 30–32. Harmand 1967, 281269 surmises that they resented Lucullus’ refusal to co-operate with Fimbria in 85 (see chapter 4 at nn. 15f.), which may be true but is not corroborated by the sources. For the size and composition of Lucullus’ army cf. Brunt 1971, 452–455. 4 On the contrast between Lucullus’ sobriety and the soldiers’ trufhv see also chapter 3 at n. 9.

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protagonist’s relationship with his soldiers: the legionaries’ poor discipline on the one hand and the requirements of good leadership on the other. Unlike the judgements expressed at later stages of the campaign, the first appraisal of Lucullus’ qualities as a commander is strikingly positive, and actually commends the proconsul for demonstrating the very skills that he is subsequently said to be lacking. Accordingly, the blame for the disorderly state of the army is put squarely on Lucullus’ predecessors and the soldiers themselves. Quite possibly, Plutarch’s assessment is related to a fragment of Sallust’s Histories (3.19 Maur. = 3.9 McGush.): exercitum maiorum more verteret, which is not certain to refer to Lucullus and the Fimbrians, however.5 Be that as it may, the ensuing account of the proconsul’s campaigns regularly shows points of contact with the vestiges of the lost work by the Roman historian, who is later quoted as stating that the soldiers were ill-disposed (calepw`") towards their commander from the very beginning of the war (Luc. 33.3 = hist. frg. 5.10 Maur. = 4.70 McGush.). At any rate, both authors seem to agree that Lucullus’ success in disciplining his troops was merely ephemeral; for the focus on the Fimbrians as notorious troublemakers and the emphasis on the soldiers’ mutinous spirit as well as their trufhv and pleonexiva later recur not only in the Life but also in the fragments of the Histories. In the following narrative of the struggle with Mithridates and Tigranes, the maintenance of discipline among Lucullus’ soldiers constitutes an essential prerequisite for victory against the military forces of Rome’s external enemies. In accordance with Plutarch’s notion of disorderly Barbarian masses, the royal armies are regularly depicted as intimidating and difficult to control, and thus reinforce the sense of pressure on the protagonist created by unmanageable crowds.6 In several instances, the Roman soldiers are described as being amazed by the sheer size of the Barbarian plh`qo" and the menacing qovrubo" it produces, though these numerically superior forces are easily thrown into disarray when challenged by an orderly Roman attack.7 As the war goes on, the legionaries come to behave more and more like their undisciplined enemies, and thereby undermine their commander’s objectives. In a number of episodes, the soldiers’ avarice and brutality are contrasted with Lucullus’ strategic acumen and his humanity and mildness towards the Greek population in the theatre of war.8 At an early stage of the campaign, the legionaries are reported as complaining about the proconsul’s conduct of military operations, “because he brought all the cities over to his side, but had not taken a single one by storm, nor given them a chance to enrich themselves by plunder” (Luc. 14.2). Rather than fighting Mithridates, they are said to have called for 5

Cf. the doubts voiced by La Penna 1963, 41f.; also Funari 1996, 500. Cf. generally Schmidt 1999, 141–201. 7 For the threatening effect of the Barbarian multitude cf. esp. Luc. 8.5; 31.7; also 27.1; 27.7 for its characteristic noise. Numbers of enemy soldiers were of course subject to gross distortion. Cf. the observations in Ziolkowski 1990 on the credibility of such figures in Livy. 8 See also chapter 2 at nn. 48f. The greed of Lucullus’ soldiers is heavily emphasised by Aigner 1974, esp. 32f.; also Gruen 1974, 371. 6

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pressing the siege of the wealthy city of Amisus (Luc. 14.3). According to Plutarch, Lucullus failed to pay heed to their grievances, yet at this point the biographer unreservedly sides with his hero and denounces the soldiers’ later behaviour as madness (ajponoiva") (Luc. 14.4). When Amisus is finally captured in the wake of Mithridates’ flight to Armenia, the legionaries are said to have ignored their general’s orders to bring aid to the inhabitants of the burning city. Instead, they “demanded booty, and shouted, and clashed their arms together, until he was forced to let them have their way” (Luc. 19.4). At the beginning of the campaign against Tigranes, Plutarch records yet another attempt to divert Lucullus from his military goals when the soldiers urge to take a fortress which is supposed to contain abundant wealth (Luc. 24.6). Further complaints are targeted at the proconsul’s war strategy, which the legionaries are reported to have criticised for being too cautious to make for a swift victory (Luc. 8.3; 14.4). In these cases, the commander is described as reacting to their charges in speeches which shall be considered in the final section of this chapter.9 What is more, the soldiers’ lack of discipline is repeatedly cited as accounting for military setbacks.10 Thus Mithridates’ successful escape in the battle of Cabira is represented as a direct consequence of the legionaries’ avarice; for they are said to have allowed themselves to be diverted from chasing the king when they caught sight of a mule laden with gold: “But greed and soldier’s pettiness (filoploutiva de; kai; mikrologiva stratiwtikhv) snatched from the Romans the spoils which they had so long pursued in many struggles and great dangers, and robbed Lucullus of the victor’s prize” (Luc. 17.6).11 As a result, the proconsul’s men end up fighting with each other over Mithridates’ gold instead of routing the panic-stricken enemy. Furthermore, Plutarch relates that the soldiers acted against Lucullus’ orders when they killed Callistratus, who was in charge of the king’s secret papers, out of greed for the money he carried in his girdle (Luc. 17.8). Whether the story about the mule is actually true or not,12 it is obvious that the legionaries’ avarice could be employed as a convenient excuse for their commander’s failure to capture Mithridates. Subsequently, the Armenian campaign as a whole is presented as being hampered by the unruliness of the proconsul’s troops. At the very beginning of the operation, Plutarch points out that the soldiers, while not being too well disciplined (oujd’ ... eujtavktou") in any case, followed their general only with utmost reluctance, and goes on to highlight the mounting opposition against Lucullus at 9

See below at nn. 69ff. On the general practice of blaming military failure on the troops rather than their commander cf. Rosenstein 1990, 92–113. 11 Cf. also Cic. Manil. 22 (without mentioning the mule), which is discussed below at. n. 66; App. Mithr. 82.367; Memnon, F 30.1, the latter referring to Galatian soldiers. Ziolkowski 1993, 811 singles out this instance as the only attested violation of the principle of the Roman general’s control over pillage in battle. 12 Note the sceptical remarks in Mulroy 1988, 1618. A similar episode is recounted in Plut. Sert. 19.8. 10

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Rome (Luc. 24.1). Later on, the legionaries who had been left in Pontus are described as manifesting a total lack of discipline (ajkolasivan) as they shout and threaten to leave the country undefended (Luc. 30.4). At this point, the earlier emphasis on the soldiers’ trufhv is taken up by the biographer’s depiction of the men serving under the proconsul in Armenia: “through wealth and luxurious life (uJpo; plouvtou kai; trufh`")” they are said to have become “averse to military service and desirous of leisure” (Luc. 30.5).13 According to Plutarch, the news of their comrade’s disobedience served to corrupt them further (prosdievfqeire), and made Lucullus abandon his alleged plan to go to war with the Parthians (Luc. 31.1).14 Notwithstanding the soldiers’ unruliness, the biographer presents the ensuing campaign in the interior of Armenia as a great success until the rigours of the climate hamper the Roman advance on Artaxata and give fuel to the legionaries’ disaffection (Luc. 32.1–3). By contrast, Cassius Dio (36.6.1) does not mention their disobedience at all, and instead cites mounting casualties and logistical difficulties as the reasons for Lucullus’ eventual retreat.15 In Plutarch’s version, however, the failure of the offensive is essentially blamed on the pressure exerted by the proconsul’s troops: “At first they appealed and sent their tribunes to him, then they held more tumultuous gatherings (qorubwdevsteron sunistavmenoi), and shouted in their tents at night, which seems to have been characteristic of an army that is ready for mutiny” (Luc. 32.3). Matching the cries uttered by the legionaries before Amisus, clamour and tumult are again described as the soldiers’ means of conveying their demands and enforcing their will on the commander, who vainly calls on his men to continue their march on the “Armenian Carthage” (Luc. 32.4). The episode thus serves to accelerate a gradual shift in the biographer’s focus from the soldiers’ intractability to the helplessness of their general.

Leadership and Discipline Shortly after this major setback, Plutarch signposts a fundamental change in his hero’s fortunes: “Up to this point, one might say that fortune (th;n tuvchn) had followed Lucullus and fought on his side; but from now on, as though a favouring breeze had failed him, he had to force every issue, and met with obstacles everywhere. He still displayed the valour and patience of a good leader (ajreth;n ... kai; makroqumivan hJgemovno" ajgaqou`), but his actions brought him no fame or favour; indeed, through ill fortune and fruitless struggles he came near losing the glory which he had already won. And he himself was not least to blame for this. He was not disposed to court the mass of soldiers (plhvqou" stratiwtikou`), and thought 13

Also note Luc. 14.1; 29.10; App. Mithr. 78.344 on the abundance of supplies in Lucullus’

camp. 14 See also below after n. 78. On the proconsul’s supposed intention to attack the Parthians see chapter 6 at nn. 1ff. 15 Also note Cic. Manil. 23f. App. Mithr. 87.397 is inconclusive. Cf. the detailed discussion in Bulin 1983, 86–98.

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that everything that was done to please one’s subordinates only dishonoured and undermined one’s authority” (Luc. 33.1f.). At the turning point of the general’s career, Plutarch thus castigates Lucullus for his insensitive treatment of the plh`qo", and establishes a clear link between the deficiencies in his leadership and the frustration of his ambition to win the war. Significantly, the biographer is concerned to mitigate his criticism by emphasising the protagonist’s ajrethv and, following the above-quoted passage, by praising his appearance, his rhetorical qualities, and his prudence (Luc. 33.3).16 Nevertheless, it is obvious that the proconsul fails to meet Plutarch’s criteria for competent leadership; for the biographer amply elaborates on the commander’s shortcomings in the ensuing narrative of the final stages of his campaigns as well as in the concluding comparison with Cimon. In the synkrisis, Lucullus’ difficulties in dealing with his men are most unfavourably contrasted with the Athenian general’s efficiency in organising a joint war effort of the Greeks against the Persians: “Moreover, if it is the greatest deed of a leader to secure ready obedience (eujpeivqeian) through goodwill (di’ eujnoiva"), Lucullus was despised by his own soldiers, while Cimon was admired by the allies” (Luc. 45.3).17 Shortly thereafter, Plutarch reaffirms his criticism of the proconsul, declaring that Lucullus “cannot altogether be acquitted of blame, whether he was ignorant of, or would not attend to the disagreements and complaints among the soldiery, in consequence of which he became so bitterly hated” (Luc. 45.5). However, just like in the preceding treatment of the protagonists’ extravagance in private life, the biographer seeks to balance his judgement by referring to Cimon’s ostracism and by making a general remark about aristocratic natures and their problematic relationship with the multitude (Luc. 45.6f.).18 In the main body of the Lucullus, Plutarch submits similar observations on the shortcomings in the proconsul’s leadership in the context of his hostile encounter with Pompey in Galatia.19 As has been pointed out in chapter 4, the double triumphator figures as the most prominent of a number of politicians who prove superior to Lucullus in terms of their ability to manipulate the plh`qo". Having annulled the arrangements made by his predecessor, Pompey is said to have taken away all but 1,600 of the former commander’s soldiers. “These he left to share in his triumph, but even these did not follow him very readily (proquvmw"). To such a degree was Lucullus either untalented or unfortunate (ajfuh;" h] dustuchv") as regards the first and greatest of all requisites in a leader” (Luc. 36.4f.). Once again, the biographer goes on to connect his criticism with an enumeration of some of his hero’s virtues before presenting reflexions on the magnificent conquests the proconsul might have made but also on the negative effects produced by his victories and by the wealth brought to Rome from the cities of Asia (Luc. 36.5–7).20 16

See also chapter 2 at n. 62. For Cimon’s popularity among the allies see chapter 2 at n. 69. Also note Cim. 6.1 on his admirably disciplined soldiers. 18 See chapter 7 at n. 15. On equality of treatment in the synkriseis see chapter 3 at n. 44. 19 See chapter 4 at n. 63. 20 See chapter 2 at n. 63 and chapter 3 at n. 19. 17

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Notwithstanding the insertion of a note of praise for Lucullus’ personal qualities, it is clear that Plutarch’s negative judgement of the protagonist’s skills as a leader is one of deliberate emphasis. For in the Pompeius, the decision to leave some of the legionaries to the recalled general is explained rather differently, with the biographer focusing on the legionaries’ truculence rather than the shortcomings of their long-time commander: Pompey “took away all soldiers from him, except 1,600, whose wilfulness (uJp’ aujqadeiva") made them, as he thought, useless to himself and hostile to Lucullus” (Pomp. 31.9). Evidently, the behaviour of the legionaries was open to different interpretations, and it is interesting to see that it is in his own Life that Lucullus appears in a more unfavourable light. In chapter 4, it has been pointed out that Plutarch is greatly interested in exploring the relationship between statesman and multitude.21 While the biographer’s own experience with the crowd is essentially confined to the civic life of the polis, the analysis of leadership and persuasion in the Lives applies no less to the military than to the political realm. As Lukas De Blois has demonstrated with regard to the Roman biographies, the greed and unruliness of the troops on the one hand and the indulgence or the harshness of their commanders on the other are very often elaborated into major themes.22 Like the politician confronting the dh`mo" in the city, the general in the field is expected to exercise prudent leadership and to win the affection of the plh`qo" of soldiers without resorting to ‘demagogic’ practices of flattery and bribery. A good illustration of this pattern is provided by the Aemilius, where Plutarch keeps highlighting both the protagonist’s rejection of demagoguery and his popularity deriving from the display of traditional virtues in the political as well as in the military sphere.23 Against this background, the biographer naturally criticises Lucullus for failing to show sufficient empathy for his men and for losing control over their increasingly undisciplined behaviour. What is more, the proconsul allows the soldiers’ corruption to be aggravated by the demagogic activities of his brother-in-law Clodius (Luc. 34.1–5).24 Exploiting the legionaries’ mutinous spirit after the capture of Nisibis, the afore21

See esp. at nn. 76ff. Cf. De Blois 1992, 4590–4599. Conspicuously, scholars tend to pay far less attention to the military than to the political side of the leadership issue. 23 Cf. Aem. 2.6; 3.6f.; 10.1–6; 11; 31.2; 38.1–7; 39.2; 39.4; 39.6–9. The structural similarity to the Lucullus is noted by De Blois 1992, 4592f. 24 Parallel sources: Sall. hist. frg. 5.11–12 Maur. = 5.9–10 McGush., quoted below, n. 28; Cic. har. 42; Cass. Dio 36.14.4, with the suggestion that Clodius acted out of innate love of revolution (uJp’ ejmfuvtou newteropoiiva"); further 36.17.2. On the biographer’s purpose and the setting of the speech cf. Tatum 1991; idem 1999, 44–49. Benner 1987, 37f. views Clodius’ attack on Lucullus as part of a political strategy designed to challenge the senatorial establishment, which is rightly repudiated by Tatum 1999, 48. Also note Mulroy 1988, 157–165, who unconvincingly rejects Plutarch’s entire report as fictitious and surmises that the young patrician may have expressed himself at a meeting of the proconsul’s consilium. Against the implausible suggestion that Clodius acted as Pompey’s agent in effecting the eventual transfer of the Mithridatic command to the double triumphator see chapter 4 at nn. 57f. 22

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mentioned harangue ascribed to the young officer most vividly articulates many of their complaints against Lucullus. Notwithstanding his own criticism of the protagonist’s leadership, the biographer clearly represents Clodius’ charges as irresponsible and unreasonable. Before quoting from the speech, he is at pains to discredit the later tribune as “a man of wanton behaviour (ajnh;r uJbristhv"), and full of all contempt and audacity” (Luc. 34.1). While the emphasis on Clodius’ immorality is further reinforced by a disapproving remark on his illicit relations with his sister, Plutarch goes on to stress that Lucullus’ relative was driven by a personal grudge against the proconsul rather than by a sincere concern for the soldiers’ well-being. According to the biographer, Clodius’ agitation, which earns him the title of filostratiwvth",25 was principally targeted at the Fimbrians, who are once again singled out as the most restive element of Lucullus’ army. Recalling their readiness to kill Flaccus and to choose Fimbria for their general, Plutarch describes them as being “neither unwilling nor unaccustomed to be addressed by demagogues (dhmagwgei`sqai)” (Luc. 34.2f.). As for the actual complaints presented by Clodius, which have been quoted at the beginning of this chapter, the contrast with Pompey and the alleged prosperity of his veterans merits closer attention.26 Although the consul of 70 is superficially praised as the general who would best be able to fulfil the soldiers’ demands for material rewards, he is at the same time maligned not only by his association with the reprehensible behaviour of the young agitator, but also by the implicit disparagement of his military achievements; for his successes against mere exiles in Spain and runaway slaves in Italy are judged to have been less difficult to attain than Lucullus’ victories over Mithridates and Tigranes (Luc. 34.4).27 While the focus on corruption, the tone of Clodius’ charges, and two of the extant fragments of the Histories all suggest that Sallust should be identified as the biographer’s source for the speech, the dig at Pompey serves as an additional argument in favour of this hypothesis.28 Following Plutarch’s comment on his hero’s reversal of fortunes and the harangue delivered by Clodius, the protagonist appears to be totally hamstrung in consequence of the legionaries’ insubordination. Instead of obeying his orders to confront the enemy, they are said to be expecting Pompey or some other general to succeed Lucullus (Luc. 34.6). Although the soldiers eventually follow the 25

For the association of the term filostratiwvth" with demagogic practices note Xen. an.

7.6.4. 26 As late as 59, the rewards promised to the Spanish veterans had in fact not been distributed, as emerges from Pompey’s speech in Cass. Dio 38.5.1f. Cf. the discussion about the apparently unimplemented lex Plotia agraria in Gabba 1950; Smith 1957; Marshall 1972; Schneider 1977, 152–155. 27 Cf. the similar observations in Tatum 1991, 575; idem 1999, 47 with 263f.71. Also note the parallels to Lucullus’ scorn for Pompey’s triumph over runaway slaves in Pomp. 31.13. 28 Cf. hist. frg. 5.11–12 Maur. = 5.9–10 McGush.: qui uxori eius frater erat and ex insolentia avidus male faciendi, but note the doubts regarding the context of the second fragment in La Penna 1963, 52; Moreau 1982, 180546; Funari 1996, 804. For Sallust as Plutarch’s likely source for the speech cf. esp. Tatum 1991, 570–575; idem 1999, 45–48, and see the broader discussion in the next section. On the Roman historian’s bias against Pompey see chapter 1 at n. 68.

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proconsul back to Pontus, they refuse to march against Tigranes after his recall as supreme commander (Luc. 35.3f.). According to Plutarch, they not only ignored Lucullus’ entreaties to resume the campaign, but “threw their empty purses down before him, bidding him fight the enemy alone, since he alone knew how to get rich from them” (Luc. 35.5). Shortly thereafter, the legionaries “went so far in their outrageous treatment of the general that, at the close of the summer, they donned their armour, drew their swords, and challenged to battle an enemy that was nowhere near, but had already withdrawn” (Luc. 35.7).

Topoi and Contradictions While the soldiers’ intractability constitutes a recurrent theme in Plutarch’s narrative, the reasons for their disaffection and the focus of their complaints are by no means described in a uniform way. Evidently, Lucullus’ disregard for their material well-being figures most prominently in Clodius’ dramatic speech and beyond, yet it should not be overlooked that other grievances like the hardships of their service and matters of military strategy are also on record.29 Apart from the charges mentioned in the preceding sections, the biographer quotes Sallust as he points out that the legionaries were compelled to spend several winters in camp (hist. frg. 5.10 Maur. = 4.70 McGush.) instead of being taken into Greek and friendly cities (Luc. 33.3f.). In this context, Plutarch once again distances himself from the soldiers’ demands, which are implicitly contrasted with the protagonist’s laudable policy of philhellenic benefaction.30 Another particular item may be added from the Life of Pompey, where Lucullus’ failure to bury the legionaries killed in the defeat at Zela is cited as one of the reasons for the hatred against him (Pomp. 39.2). However, as the former commander’s neglect of their dead bodies is unfavourably contrasted with the splendid and honourable burial organised by his successor, the biographer’s comment seems to reflect the bias of a pro-Pompeian source, quite probably Theophanes, though this does not render the point entirely meaningless.31 A more general appraisal of Lucullus’ relationship with his men is provided by Cassius Dio (36.16.2), who notes that “he required a great deal of them, was difficult of access, strict in his demands for work, and inexorable in his punishments. He did not understand how to win over a man by words, or to attach him by equity, or to make a comrade of him (prosetairivsasqai) by conferring hon29 Wirth 1983, 8 cites the supposed “Aussichtslosigkeit einer ... als falsch erkannten Methode der Kriegführung” as the principal cause of the legionaries’ dissatisfaction, but this is as exaggerated as his related main argument in favour of Pompey’s unrivalled brilliance as a general and organiser. 30 See chapter 2, esp. at nn. 48f. 31 Cf. Heftner 1995, 271: “Wahrscheinlich fand Plutarch den Vorwurf im Zusammenhang mit Pompeius’ Feldzug in einer Quelle, die ad maiorem Pompeii gloriam jeden möglichen und unmöglichen Tadel auf dessen unglücklichen Vorgänger häufte”; also Harmand 1967, 419. On Theophanes account see chapter 1 at n. 75.

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ours or bestowing money – all of which means are necessary, especially with a crowd (ejn plhvqei), and most of all with a crowd on a campaign.” Conspicuously, this judgement of Lucullus’ difficulties in dealing with the plh`qo" closely resembles Plutarch’s view of the proconsul’s distance from the concerns of the multitude. Apart from this, both Plutarch and Dio have the soldiers cite Lucullus’ lack of authority in the wake of his replacement as supreme commander.32 The Fimbrians in particular could point out that a decree had been passed at Rome to effect their discharge from service.33 According to Appian, the legionaries were even threatened with the confiscation of their property if they remained with Lucullus (Mithr. 90.411).34 Significantly, it is only when they no longer fall under the general’s command that the troops are described as mocking him by showing their empty purses and staging their imaginary fight in the absence of the enemy (Luc. 35.5; 35.7).35 At any rate, the gradual escalation of the soldiers’ resistance suggests that their complaints were to some extent related to the political situation in the capital, where Lucullus had come under attack for protracting the war.36 Nevertheless, only a faint echo of the legionaries’ grievances can be discerned in Cicero’s speech on the Manilian law, which vaguely refers to the remoteness of the theatre of war and alludes to the men’s longing for home while failing to give more precise indications.37 Beyond the charges advanced by the soldiers themselves, it has already been noted that Plutarch also cites another reason for their unruliness which is somewhat at odds with their supposed lack of material rewards, namely their corruption through wealth and trufhv (Luc. 7.1–3; 30.5). In a similar vein, Cassius Dio (36.14.3) describes the Fimbrians as being disorderly “on account of their victory and ensuing rest (ejk th`" hJsuciva"), and also because they had provisions in abundance”. Furthermore, he later submits the view that the soldiers listened to Lucullus as long as they prospered and got sufficient booty but stopped taking heed of him when they ran into difficulties (Cass. Dio 36.16.3). This observation of Dio’s is instructive not only on account of its clear implication that the legionaries did acquire booty at least in the early stages of the war, but also in so far as it suggests a reversal of the reconstruction presented by Plutarch: rather than turning Lucullus’ successful operations into a failure, the soldiers’ disobedience appears to be the consequence of an abortive campaign. 32

Cf. Plut. Luc. 35.4; Cass. Dio 36.14.4. Cf. Plut. Luc. 35.4; Cass. Dio 36.15.3; Liv. per. 98.9; also Sall. hist. frg. 5.13 Maur. = 5.11 McGush.; Cic. Manil. 26. 34 For the implications of this statement in terms of the social composition of the soldiery see below at n. 86. 35 This point is stressed – and exaggerated – by Keaveney 1992, 126: “Yet, for so long as Lucullus was a properly constituted commander with authorization from Rome, he had little to fear from the troops and could largely ignore their feelings”; similarly Cobban 1935, 115f. 36 See chapter 4 at nn. 43 and 120. 37 Cf. Manil. 23: nimia longinquitate locorum ac desiderio suorum commovebatur. On Cicero’s omission of further details as part of his rhetorical strategy in the speech cf. Steel 2001, 152f. 33

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Presumably, this inconsistency results from the fact that the passage in Dio is obviously designed to praise the superior qualities of Pompey; for in the same paragraph the historian from Nicaea goes on to extol the double triumphator for his accomplishments with the same men who had caused so much trouble under his predecessor. As to their wealth at the time of Lucullus’ command, moreover, a fragment of Sallust’s Histories appears to be describing the extensive business activities of the Fimbrians during their stay at Nisibis (hist. frg. 5.9 Maur. = 5.8 McGush.).38 Consequently, the preoccupation of the legionaries’ complaints with the material return for their hardships only constitutes the most salient element in a confusing assortment of contradictions. Apparently, Plutarch pursues two conflicting themes simultaneously: on the one hand, he keeps stressing the soldiers’ unruliness along with their insatiable greed, while on the other, he censures Lucullus for failing to convince them of his empathy. In some respects, these leitmotifs are ill-reconciled with each other as they serve to emphasise both the legionaries’ wealth and their empty purses. What is more, the development of the themes allows the biographer to present his hero first as a competent leader who succeeds in disciplining soldiers thoroughly corrupted by others, and then as a helpless general who lacks the ability to reach out to his men and is easily outmanoeuvred by various demagogues. Beyond this, however, the foregoing discussion has demonstrated that the thrust of both interpretations is also detectable in Cassius Dio and, to judge from the extant fragments, in Sallust’s Histories. In their basic outline, the opposing views of Lucullus’ relationship with the legionaries probably echo rival versions that were originally propounded by the proconsul and his adversaries in order to buttress the respective charges and counter-charges regarding the commander’s conduct of the war. Conspicuously, the accusations of greed and idleness against the soldiers closely match those of avarice and extravagance against the general himself. Furthermore, it ought to be remembered that the merits of Lucullus and Pompey in subduing Mithridates were a matter of bitter controversy and had profound political ramifications. Evidently, the rôle of the soldiers could be represented in different ways with a view to explaining success and failure in the war. The combination of these elements in the double-edged interpretation reflected in both Plutarch and Cassius Dio is very likely to be inspired by Sallust, who has widely been identified as an important source of the accounts of Lucullus’ campaigns in both imperial writers.39 Generally speaking, the author of the 38

Also note hist. frg. 3.33 Maur. = 3.19 McGush. on the praedatores Valeriani (scil. Fimbriani), which is probably related to operations before Cyzicus, though the specific context remains obscure. Cf. McGushin 1994, 78f.; Funari 1996, 522. 39 For Plutarch see chapter 1 at nn. 65f. For Cassius Dio cf. Maurenbrecher 1891, 54–56; Reinach 1895, 450f.; Villoresi 1939, 220; Van Ooteghem 1959, 219; Bulin 1983, 94f.; pace Schwartz 1899, 1706 = 1957, 426, who seeks to demonstrate that the historian generally builds on Livy for the period in question. This is not to deny that there are certain differences between the narratives of Plutarch and Dio which must be attributed to their respective emphases and to the influence of additional material beyond Sallust. On some of these items cf. Rizzo 1963, 40– 45; also Reinach 1895, 451, and note the conclusions of the following discussion.

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Histories is well known for his focus on issues of corruption and the nobility’s inappropriate ways of dealing with socio-political problems.40 Regarding the treatment and behaviour of the soldiery, this is particularly obvious in his castigation of Sulla for allowing the troops luxury and licence contra morem maiorum.41 In the context of Lucullus’ career, the extant fragments have been seen to indicate that Sallust stressed the legionaries’ resentment towards their commander, ascribed the aforementioned speech to Clodius, and kept highlighting the corruption of the Fimbrians in particular. Although Sallust’s overall judgement of Lucullus is more difficult to reconstruct, it appears that the historian held a more positive view of the general than of most other representatives of the senatorial establishment. According to the orthodox interpretation by Maurenbrecher and McGushin, he has the legionaries denounce Lucullus as “headstrong and over-confident (impotens et nimius animi)”, while another statement suggests that he was considered to be excessively eager that his command should be extended, but outstanding in other respects (imperii prolatandi percupidus habebatur, cetera egregius).42 To be sure, one should beware of overrating the significance of these fragments since neither of them is certain to refer to the proconsul.43 Given Sallust’s most unfavourable attitude to Pompey, however, it is at any rate plausible to assume that the historian did not one-sidedly criticise Lucullus’ ambitio and avaritia, but gave him his due in the detailed narrative of the Third Mithridatic War.44 This proposition may further be buttressed by Rhiannon Ash’s attractive suggestion that Tacitus’ treatment of Corbulo’s campaigns shows the Neronian general “replaying significant moments of Lucullus’s military career”.45 Interestingly, the implicit contrast established by the imperial historian, who is likely to be echoing and alluding to Sallust’s ‘classical’ account, turns out to be rather unfavourable to Corbulo, whom the Anglo-Welsh scholar suspects to have presented himself as emulating Lucullus.46 40

Apart from the standard monographs on Sallust cf. André 1966, 366–381 on the connexion between otium and decadence in the historian’s works. 41 Cf. Sall. Cat. 11.5–7: L. Sulla exercitum quem in Asia ductaverat, quo sibi fidum faceret, contra morem maiorum luxuriose nimisque liberaliter habuerat. Also note Plut. Sull. 12.12–14, which Keaveney 2005 considers to be anachronistic without, however, discussing the Sallustian parallel. 42 Hist. frg. 4.73 Maur. = 4.77 McGush. (McGushin’s translation); 4.70 = 4.69. 43 Cf. the doubts expressed by La Penna 1963, 50; idem 1968, 288f. concerning the latter, and by Funari 1996, 767 and 772 regarding both fragments. 44 Cf. Schur 1934, 277–279; Van Ooteghem 1959, 210f.; Rizzo 1963, 29; Syme 1964, 202f.; La Penna 1968, 287–290 and 294; Scardigli 1979, 104f.; eadem 1989, 263f.; McGushin 1994, 200–202; pace Wirth 1984, 576–578, who, among other things, simply omits the words cetera egregius from his quotation of hist. frg. 4.70 Maur = 4.69 McGush.; also idem 2006, 394f.; further Twyman 1972, 867. For Sallust’s negative judgement of Pompey see chapter 1 at n. 68. 45 Cf. Ash 2006, quotation 356. The parallels include the character sketches at Tac. ann. 13.8.3 and Plut. Luc. 33.3. Also note ann. 13.34.2 for Corbulo’s desire parta olim a Lucullo Pompeioque recipere. 46 I am grateful to Rhiannon Ash for discussing her paper with me. The possibility of intertextuality between Tacitus and Sallust remains largely unexplored in the published version but is mentioned in Ash 2006, 36736.

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Be that as it may, both the legionaries’ unruliness and the proconsul’s difficulties in dealing with his men were obviously elaborated in the Histories. Of course, this must not be taken to imply that Plutarch merely reproduced what he found in Sallust or some intermediate source. As has been pointed out above, the biographer shows a marked propensity to focus on questions of leadership and discipline, and evidently adapted his material in accordance with the themes pursued in the respective Lives, e.g., in the parallel passages from the Lucullus (36.4f.) and the Pompeius (31.9) with their diverging emphases on the soldiers’ wilfulness and the proconsul’s ineptitude. Nor did Cassius Dio build exclusively on Sallust, as the aforementioned praise for Pompey’s qualities as a leader clearly demonstrates. Broadly speaking, the ambiguity of the ancient evidence is mirrored in the assessments of modern scholars, though Lucullus’ shortcomings as a leader tend to receive a preponderance of attention. Matthias Gelzer, for instance, has observed that the proconsul lacked the psychological skill of rewarding his men for their toils at the appropriate time, while Peter Brunt has likewise noted that “Lucullus’ soldiers secured much booty, but he could not convince them that he had a genuine concern in their welfare”.47 Putting the point more forcefully, Jules Van Ooteghem has concluded that the general “did not look for popularity, nor for the affection of his soldiers, but simply for their obedience”.48 By contrast, Heribert Aigner has essentially built his judgement on the references to the legionaries’ prosperity, suggesting that the commander was not in any way to blame for his difficulties with the supposedly unmanageable soldiery.49 Instead of arguing in favour of one or the other of these interpretations, the following discussion shall look at two specific points which are of immediate relevance to the charges against the proconsul, namely the enforcement of discipline and the size and frequency of material rewards for the troops. As has been pointed out above, Lucullus is reported to have restored order among the Fimbrians at the beginning of the war (Luc. 7.1–3), but in his positive appraisal of these efforts Plutarch fails to mention any resentment caused by bullying. Later on, the biographer records the punishment of fugitive soldiers who had been defeated in 47 Cf. Gelzer 1926, 403: “Er hatte nicht das psychologische Geschick, sie im richtigen Augenblick für die geleisteten Strapazen zu belohnen”; Brunt 1988, 261, slightly modifying the original version in 1962, 77. Similar judgements are advanced by De Blois 1987, 20; Keaveney 1992, 180. Also note Harmand 1967, 283: the proconsul “agit comme s’il n’avait pas compris la situation psychologique nouvelle créée par les réalités de l’armée post-marienne” (Harmand’s emphasis). On the view of Lucullus as an anachronism see chapter 7 at nn. 21ff. 48 Van Ooteghem 1959, 201: “Lucullus ne recherchait ni la popularité, ni l’affection de ses soldats, mais simplement leur obéissance”. 49 Cf. Aigner 1974, 29–41, esp. 39–41: “Es spricht für die militärische Fähigkeit des Lucullus, daß er mit solchen Truppen derart große Erfolge erzielen konnte, und es spricht für die Wirkung seiner Persönlichkeit, daß er den Versuch wagen konnte, die Soldaten, die sich bereits an ein üppiges und unmilitärisches Leben gewöhnt hatten, wieder in die Gleise der vielgerühmten römischen disciplina zurückzuführen, ohne daß ihn ein solcher Versuch das Leben gekostet hätte” (p. 41). Also note Cagniart 2007, 83f.; further Erdmann 1972, 57–63, who likewise stresses the legionaries’ lack of discipline, but does not acquit Lucullus of blame either.

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a struggle near Cabira; however, the shameful digging work imposed on them is described as a customary disgrace (ajtimivan ... nenomismevnhn) (Luc. 15.7), which seems to imply that Lucullus did not exceed the permissible limits of severitas. One might add the fact that he forbade plundering during the battle of Tigranocerta under threat of penalty and only permitted it afterwards (App. Mithr. 85.388), yet this order is readily explicable as a reaction to the unusual breakdown of discipline in the battle of Cabira.50 Although the general statements by Plutarch and Cassius Dio may be adduced to establish that Lucullus was indeed a “stern disciplinarian”,51 the references to specific punishments do not suggest that too much importance should be attached to this factor. As for the legionaries’ material well-being, it ought to be noted that the proconsul by no means failed to enrich them. According to Plutarch, he allotted 800 drachmas to every one of his men following the capture of Tigranocerta, while the total sum of 950 drachmas was later recorded on tablets displayed at his triumph (Luc. 29.4; 37.6).52 Considering that Pompey, whose case is clearly exceptional, paid 1,500 drachmas per head upon returning from the East in 62, the amount of money distributed by Lucullus is certainly quite substantial.53 Granted, one might still argue that the soldiers simply expected more than that, yet it is difficult to see that the actual size of the donatives was the principal reason for their disaffection.54 Apart from this, the legionaries’ complaints also focus on the scarcity of opportunities for seizing booty.55 Beyond the above-discussed looting of Amisus (Luc. 19.4f.), the sources repeatedly report the capture of treasures, but it is unclear to what extent this brought benefits to the common soldier.56 Upon conquering Tigranocerta, Lucullus did apparently not allow indiscriminate pillage; for Plutarch notes that he took the treasures into his own charge while turning over the city itself to his men for plunder (Luc. 29.3).57 At any rate, it is beyond doubt 50

See above at n. 11. Gruen 1974, 52. Cf. also Holmes 1923, 200: “iron discipline ... was congenial to his nature”, and Van Ooteghem as quoted above, n. 48. 52 Shatzman 1975, 379629 calculates that Lucullus spent about 12 million denarii for 15,000 soldiers at Tigranocerta, and suggests that “he probably kept back a sum of the same order”. Also note De Callataÿ 1997, 365, who surmises that the payment merely made up for significant arrears, but there is nothing in the sources to corroborate this interpretation. 53 For Pompey’s allotment cf. Plut. Pomp. 45.4; App. Mithr. 116.565; Plin. nat. 37.16. 54 Keaveney 1992, 126 conjectures that Lucullus started enriching his troops too late, but this is a matter of speculation and actually adds to the confusion caused by Cass. Dio 36.16.3, discussed above before n. 38, which would imply the contrary but has been seen to be biased against the proconsul. 55 Gruen 1974, 370 takes the rather cynical view that “Lucullus professed regret at his troops’ pillaging and, at times, attempted to restrain them; but not very often”. This may actually not be too far from the truth, but the ancient accounts tell a different story. Also note Cagniart 2007, 84, who dismisses the representation of the proconsul’s objections as “totally unfounded”. 56 In addition to passages cited elsewhere in this chapter, cf. esp. Sall. hist. frg. 3.58 Maur. = 3.40 McGush.: castella, custodias thesaurorum, in deditionem acciperent; 4.12 = 4.10: tenuit Lucullus thesauros, custodias regias. 57 On the pillage of the Armenian capital cf. also Cass. Dio 36.2.4; App. Mithr. 86.392. 51

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that the proconsul accumulated much wealth for himself, though this can be regarded as exceptional only in scale.58 Furthermore, part of the money appropriated at Tigranocerta and elsewhere was obviously spent on financing the war.59 While a straightforward explanation of Lucullus’ difficulties remains elusive, the prominence of topoi associated with the notion of moral decay suggests that the charges brought against him are to a considerable extent overdrawn. In this context, it needs to be emphasised that the unruliness of the proconsul’s soldiers is far from unparalleled; for stories about avarice, mutiny, and insubordination can be found in accounts of any period of Roman history.60 As for the early and middle Republic, these reports are of course influenced by the perspective of later annalists and may not be very reliable, but it would be naive to conceive of disobedience and corruption as mere symptoms of decadence that were essentially confined to the post-Punic War era. What is more, the ideal of a heroic past marked by exemplary virtue and discipline must be understood to be as much of a construction as its regular challenge by acts of lawlessness and depravity. Evidently, the topoi connected with the discourse on mos maiorum also leave a mark on the sources dealing with the late Republic, which tend to highlight unruly behaviour more frequently and describe the legionaries as becoming increasingly assertive in their demands for booty, donatives, and land allotments.61 At the same time, the common notion of the corrupting effect of service in the East implies that legions operating on Asian soil were particularly vulnerable to charges of softness and lax discipline.62 In the case of Lucullus, the attendant problems confronting commanders in the field happen to be documented exceptionally well, yet it would be rash to follow Cassius Dio’s argument (36.16.3) that the proconsul’s leadership must have been inferior to Pompey’s for the simple reason that the soldiers supposedly ceased to cause trouble once they had been taken over by the double triumphator.63 As emerges from Dio’s own account (36.47.2), Pompey actually ran into difficulties when a temporary shortage of provisions and the activities of Mithridates’ cavalry induced a number of men to desert him in the course of the Further note Plut. Luc. 26.2 on the city’s wealth. Ziolkowski 1993, 86 with n. 1 cites this instance as a rare case of sacking kept under control by a Roman general. 58 Lucullus’ avarice is stressed, e.g., by Van Ooteghem 1959, 152 and 203; contra Shatzman 1975, 175 and 379, who not only doubts the charge of personal greed but also argues that “Lucullus was obviously interested in money for distribution to soldiers, officers and the people in Rome” (p. 175). Also note ibid., 63–67 on the general importance of war profits as a source of income for senators. For the objects of art seized by Lucullus cf. the references cited in chapter 2, n. 26. As to the question of the Roman general’s authority over booty, note the diverging views expressed by Shatzman 1972 and Churchill 1999 with further references. 59 See chapter 6 after n. 18 and at n. 76. 60 Cf. Messer 1920; Aigner 1974, 168–174; Gruen 1974, 369–374. 61 Cf. esp. Brunt 1962, 75–82/ 1988, 257–271; also Harmand 1967, 283–287, 442f., and passim; Aigner 1974, 148–155. 62 Cf. Wheeler 1996, 237–246, and see chapter 3 at nn. 69ff. 63 Departing from Dio’s interpretation, Aigner 1974, 42 unconvincingly attributes the higher level of discipline under Pompey to his predecessor’s “Vorarbeit”.

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ensuing campaign.64 Hence the absence of further references to the discontent of the legionaries may owe less to differences in the quality of leadership than to the new commander’s speedy victories and quite possibly to the termination of Sallust’s coverage of events in the mid-sixties.65 Still, the author of the Histories was obviously not alone in his judgement of the lack of discipline in Lucullus’ army. As noted above, the charge of satiating their avarice to the extent of neglecting military duty was levelled at the proconsul himself and at his soldiers with equal force. Thus Cicero’s speech on the Manilian law refers to the legionaries’ preoccupation with the collection of Mithridates’ treasures when they could have got hold of the king himself (Manil. 22). The implicit criticism of their general is unmistakable, and evidently the orator intends to suggest that no one else but Pompey will be able to restore order among the unruly soldiers.66 By the time of Horace’s writing, the greed and disobedience of Lucullus’ men had become sufficiently notorious to be singled out for elaboration in one of the poet’s Epistles (2.2.26ff.). To be sure, the presence of topoi and the relevance of political motives for dramatising the proconsul’s difficulties with his soldiers do not warrant the conclusion that the negative view of his leadership ought to be dismissed as an entirely artificial construct. In fact, it need not be doubted that there was a certain basis for the charges against Lucullus, even though their representation in the sources is highly selective and misleading. Moreover, the obvious tension between the stress on the general’s shortcomings on the one hand and the legionaries’ intractability on the other does not rule out that the two factors, which were surely aggravated by the lack of military success in the later stages of the campaigns, may have converged to produce the breakdown of the commander’s relationship with his men. At all events, it is clear, however, that the bifurcated focus on Lucullus’ poor leadership and on the legionaries’ truculence serves to exaggerate the gulf between the proconsul and the mass of soldiers. Lucullus and the Common Soldier As has been seen in chapter 4, Plutarch presents Lucullus as a champion of the senatorial establishment who is engaged in a constant struggle with the plh`qo" and various ‘popular’ politicians. In the military sphere, the picture is essentially the same: despite considerable success on the battlefield, the protagonist ultimately fails to accomplish his goals because he proves unable to win the affection of his men, who end up turning to Pompey and the demagogues.67 Regarding 64

Granted, Pompey also received deserters from the king’s army (App. Mithr. 97.450), but on balance this hardly “reinforces the criticisms of Lucullus’ qualities of leadership”, as Greenhalgh 1980, 109 has it. 65 Interestingly, the unruliness of Pompey’s soldiers is repeatedly highlighted in Plutarch’s account of the general’s early career. Cf. Pomp. 11.4f.; 13.2–4; 14.7. 66 Cf. esp. Manil. 13; 39, which underlines the positive impact of Pompey on the behaviour of troops. On Cicero’s presentation of Lucullus in the speech cf. Steel 2001, 148–154. 67 For the unity of the plh`qo" theme in the Lucullus cf. Tröster forthcoming.

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Lucullus’ rôle in Roman politics, this interpretation has been shown to be not only one-sided but also incompatible with the nature of public life in the late Republic. Unquestionably, conditions in the army cannot simply be equated with those prevailing in the city of Rome. Above all, the general’s permanent relationship with his soldiers differed in many ways from the politician’s interaction with crowds assembled on an ad-hoc basis in the capital, where alternative leadership was always at hand. Furthermore, the social composition of the respective multitudes evidently constitutes an important factor and shall be considered towards the end of this chapter. Still, there are many similarities, too, and what has been said about the necessity of wooing public support for personal objectives basically applies to the political as well as to the military realm. Significantly, Plutarch’s fundamental observations on Lucullus’ change of fortunes are followed by a statement about the protagonist’s appearance in public, which has already been quoted in chapter 4: “He was tall and handsome, a powerful speaker (deino;" eijpei`n), and equally prudent (frovnimo"), as it seems, in the forum and in the field” (Luc. 33.3).68 Just like the biographer pursues his hero’s struggle with the plh`qo" of citizens and soldiers as a unitary theme, so he points out that Lucullus was capable of impressing an audience both in the theatre of war and in the urban space of the capital. Beyond this general remark, Plutarch’s account repeatedly indicates that the proconsul sought the support of his men for his military strategy. In various instances, Lucullus is depicted as addressing the legionaries in speeches which appear to have helped to quiet dissenters. Two of his harangues are reported in considerable detail, both of them responding to the soldiers’ urge to launch a direct attack on Mithridates’ kingdom in order to effect a swift conclusion of the war (Luc. 8.3f.; 14.4–8).69 Accordingly, they appear to have served as defences against the charge of prolonging the war, which was brought against Lucullus at Rome, and must therefore be suspected to have been amplified and elaborated at a later stage. Nevertheless, there is no reason to dismiss them as irrelevant fabrications of speeches that were never delivered, much less to deny that their setting is plausible in so far as they reflect a common practice in military life.70 Interestingly, the first speech, which justifies the decision to lend assistance to the proconsul’s embattled colleague Cotta, is interrupted by the advice of Mithridates’ former general Archelaus, who had defected to the Romans, to march into Pontus immediately, and then goes on to reject this counsel. Thus 68

See chapter 4 before n. 110. Cf. also Liv. per. 94.1, which refers to the early phase of the war: Lucullus poscentes[...] pugnam milites a seditione inhibuit. 70 Cf. generally Harmand 1967, 303–313; Erdmann 1972, 22–27; Pina Polo 1989, 199–218; Goldsworthy 1996, 145–149. Also note Hansen 1993, who argues that elaborate speeches ascribed to commanders before engagements should be considered fictitious, yet this does not apply to military contiones in general. Moreover, he concludes that brief battle exhortations were customary. The general importance of persuading the soldiers is rightly stressed by De Blois 2007. 69

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Plutarch may be referring to a controversy that occurred at a meeting among the commander’s officers, but this does not rule out that the issues were set out in a harangue addressed to the rank and file.71 In the second speech, the apologetic purpose is rather more obvious; for Lucullus presents himself as being anxious to allow Mithridates to reassemble power and confront the Roman forces once again rather than fleeing across the border into Armenia. What is more, the proconsul heavily stresses the threat posed by Tigranes and thereby implicitly justifies the later attack on his kingdom, which he claimed to be a pre-emptive strike.72 Notwithstanding their subsequent elaboration and rhetorical embellishment, these speeches fit into a pattern of communication and argument between the commander and his men which can be discerned in a variety of contexts. In one instance, Lucullus is directly quoted as rejecting his soldiers’ demand to assault an Armenian fortress (Luc. 24.6f.), while other passages highlight his efforts at boosting their confidence. At the beginning of the siege operations before Cyzicus, Plutarch thus records that the proconsul “gathered them together and boastfully told them that within a few days he would give them the victory, and that without any bloodshed” (Luc. 9.3). Beyond the biographer’s account, Sallust appears to be referring to Lucullus when he mentions a magnanimous speech that served to appease an angry multitude.73 Clearly, the proconsul was far more adept at winning over the soldiers than Plutarch’s negative verdict on his style of leadership would suggest. In some cases, the exhortation of the legionaries is linked with an emphasis on the general’s personal involvement in combat.74 Following the aforementioned defeat of a Roman detachment in a skirmish near Cabira, the soldiers in the camp are described as running together towards Lucullus, “begging him to lead them, and demanding the signal for battle. But he, wishing them to learn how important, at a dangerous moment of a battle, the visible presence of a prudent leader (hJgemovno" e[mfrono") is, bade them keep quiet. Then he went down into the plain by himself, and confronting the foremost of the fugitives, ordered them to stop, and turn back with him” (Luc. 15.6).75 Likewise, the commander figures prominently in Plutarch’s account of the battle of Tigranocerta. Again, the biographer records dissent on the part of some of Lucullus’ officers who advise him to avoid an engagement on a dies ater (Luc. 27.8).76 After rejecting their counsel and “bidding his men be of good courage, he crossed the river, and led the way in person against the enemy. ... Then he 71 An exchange of opinions in the general’s consilium is reported in Luc. 27.1f. prior to the battle of Tigranocerta. 72 See chapter 6 at nn. 61ff. 73 Frg. hist. 4.58 Maur. = 4.59 McGush.: dein lenita iam ira postero die liberalibus verbis permulcti sunt. The fragment certainly belongs to Book 4 of the Histories and is usually connected with Plut. Luc. 24.1 on the beginning of the war against Tigranes. 74 Cf. Goldsworthy 1996, 154–165 for general discussion and further examples. 75 Cf. also Sall. hist. frg. 4.7 Maur. = 4.5 McGush.: quo cupidius in ore ducis se quisque bonum et strenuum ostentantes, which is not certain to refer to Lucullus and events at Cabira, however. Cf. the doubts voiced by La Penna 1963, 48; Funari 1996, 658. 76 Cf. also mor. 203a (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata).

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himself, taking two cohorts, hastened eagerly towards the hill, his soldiers following him vigorously, because they saw him ahead of them in armour, suffering the distress of a foot-soldier, and pressing his way along. Arrived at the top, and standing in the most conspicuous spot, he cried with a loud voice, ‘We are victorious, we are victorious, my fellow soldiers (sustratiw`tai)’” (Luc. 28.1–4).77 Evidently, these passages are heavily coloured by the desire to magnify Lucullus’ exploits, yet the impact of his physical presence on the legionaries and the significance of the general’s identification with his commilitones should not lightly be dismissed as empty rhetoric. Far from invalidating this proposition, the fact that other commanders are reported to have done likewise actually confirms that committed generals could do much to raise the courage of their men and did well to be visible and accessible at all times.78 In this context, it is certainly instructive to look at one of the reasons cited by Cassius Dio (36.14.3) for the unruliness of the Fimbrians at Nisibis: “they had been left to themselves much of the time, while Lucullus was absent on travels into many parts”. Dio’s point is borne out by the way the first major rebellion originated from units entrusted to Lucullus’ subordinates rather than from those serving under the commander himself. According to Plutarch, it was behind the lines in occupied Pontus that the proconsul’s officers were first faced with mutiny after Lucullus had called upon them to join the forces on the Armenian front. Having described the protests and cries uttered by the disobedient legionaries, the biographer continues: “When news of this was brought to Lucullus, it further corrupted (prosdievfqeire) his soldiers there, too, ... and when they heard of the bold words of their comrades, they called them real men, and said their example must be followed” (Luc. 30.5). In the wake of the crushing defeat at Zela, Plutarch indicates that Lucullus’ presence may even have exerted a calming influence on the troops, who are said to have blamed the débâcle on the proconsul’s legate Triarius: “But Lucullus, coming up a few days afterward, concealed Triarius from his soldiers, who were searching him out of anger (pro;" ojrghvn)” (Luc. 35.3). As has been noted in chapter 4, however, there are divergent versions about who was responsible for the disaster at Zela, and it is therefore not unlikely that the biographer actually misrepresents his hero’s rôle after the battle.79 While the focus on Lucullus’ subordinates undoubtedly helps to exonerate the proconsul himself, it would nevertheless be unreasonable to suppose that his officers did not experience problems that were similar to the ones encountered by their supreme commander. Evidently, Lucullus’ efforts to overcome the legionaries’ resistance did not always meet with success, and in some cases he is described as failing to win over his men despite going to great lengths to enlist their support. Thus Plutarch 77 Cf. also mor. 203a–b (Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata); App. Mithr. 85.385f. Memnon, F 38.5, too, indicates that Lucullus encouraged his men on this occasion. In addition, note Plut. Luc. 31.8 on the proconsul leading his men against the Atropateni in the battle of the Arsanias. 78 Cf. esp. Suet. Iul. 67.2 for Caesar’s use of the term commilitones. Also note Campbell 1984, 32–59; Stäcker 2003, 89–125 on the practice of the Emperors. 79 See chapter 4 at n. 131.

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depicts the proconsul as persistently entreating (polla; proselipavrei) his soldiers to continue their advance on Artaxata before being forced to abandon the operation as a result of their resolute opposition (Luc. 32.4). Regarding this instance, too, it has been pointed out that the biographer’s version with its emphasis on the legionaries’ intractability is at variance with the less dramatic one presented by Cassius Dio (36.6.1).80 Inevitably, the contradictions surrounding the undisciplined behaviour of the troops also affect the construction of the relationship between Lucullus and the common soldier. Following the proconsul’s replacement in the Mithridatic command, Plutarch reports a last-ditch attempt at restoring his authority: “Accordingly, there was no expedient, however much beneath his dignity (par’ ajxivan), to which Lucullus did not patiently resort – entreating the soldiers man by man, going about from tent to tent in humility and tears, and even endeavouring to take some of the men by the hand” (Luc. 35.4). At first glance, the episode may convey the impression of a desperate and helpless general, and presumably this is the interpretation that the biographer intended to suggest. Yet as Egon Flaig has demonstrated, the device of displaying one’s tears was firmly embedded in Roman culture as a means of intensifying an emotional appeal to disobedient soldiers.81 In fact, Lucullus must have calculated that the gesture was not without a reasonable chance of success; for it only makes sense as a genuine effort at persuading the legionaries to obey his orders. Although his advances were rejected, it is significant that at least a temporary agreement was eventually reached whereby the soldiers were obliged to stay with the recalled general for a limited period of time (Luc. 35.5). While the foregoing analysis has shown that Lucullus was frequently, but by no means invariably successful in mustering support among his troops, the fact remains that he did have difficulties in dealing with the common soldier, however grossly the nature and extent of these problems may be misrepresented in the surviving accounts. In quite a few cases, it has been seen that the sources reflect subsequent elaboration, or provide different versions regarding the behaviour of the legionaries and the general’s interaction with them. To complicate matters further, the commander’s relationship with several of his senior officers appears not to have been free from strains,82 and it is very difficult to assess how far these tensions influenced the level of discipline in the army and its representation in the extant sources. After all, officers and centurions performed a crucial function in transmitting the general’s orders and objectives to the rank and file.83 80

See above at n. 15. Cf. the references to the tears of Pompey and Caesar in Plut. Pomp. 3.5; 13.3 and Suet. Iul. 33, and Flaig 1993, 213; idem 1997, 42–45; idem 2003, 110–115: “Zu weinen hieß jedoch, die habitualisierte Selbstkontrolle weitgehend zu suspendieren. Das war ein Beweis größter Vertrautheit, einer quasifamilialen Nähe und hoher affektiver Bindung” (p. 113); also Veyne 1976, 408f. with 505108; pace Harmand 1967, 282279, who suggests that the episode reflects Pompeian propaganda. 82 See above at n. 24 for the rôle of Clodius, and chapter 4 at nn. 128ff. for a number of other officers. 83 Cf. De Blois 2000, 23–31; also idem 2007 passim on the importance of wooing the loyalty of these people. 81

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Evidently, the pervasiveness of contradictions should caution against advancing sweeping generalisations about the proconsul’s standing with his subordinates. Still, one may conclude that his ability to appeal to the mass of soldiers varied considerably according to circumstances, though this explanation is plainly too generic to be satisfactory. Apart from this, Lucullus’ efforts are quite likely to have been perceived in different ways by different people. Admittedly, this is a somewhat speculative point, given that rather little is known about cleavages within the proconsul’s army, yet it is fair to assume that the upheavals that had rocked Italy around and after the time of the Social War continued to produce significant divisions among the legionaries on ethnic, political, and economic lines. At any rate, some clues to the character of the commander’s problems may be held by the social composition of the soldiery. While the minimum census for military service remains a vexed issue, few scholars would object to the proposition that it probably decreased in real terms in the course of the third and second centuries and that it was certainly very low even before Marius enlisted volunteers among the capite censi.84 In the ensuing decades, proletarians increasingly came to serve along with conscripts, but at all times the late Republican army predominantly drew on recruits from the plebs rustica.85 Notwithstanding their common rural origin, the soldiers were far from forming a monolithic block in terms of their attitudes and expectations. As for Lucullus’ troops, this lack of unity is mirrored in their sometimes contradictory complaints about the conduct of the war. Thus Plutarch notes that the proconsul did not give heed to the men who advised him to suspend the war after the first victories, nor to those who demanded more opportunities for plunder, whereas he defended himself against a third group who found fault with his delaying tactics (Luc. 14). Furthermore, the constant, if exaggerated, focus on the Fimbrians in particular suggests that this unit was somehow distinct from the rest of the army. In the context of the legionaries’ rejection of Lucullus’ entreaties to stay with him, the biographer even hints at a debate among them: “Nevertheless, at the request of the other soldiers, the Fimbrians were constrained to agree to remain during the summer” (Luc. 35.5). As mentioned above, moreover, Appian notes that Lucullus’ men were eventually threatened with the confiscation of their property if they failed to abandon 84 Cf. the influential reconstruction in Gabba 1949, who posits two reductions during the Hannibalic War and in the Gracchan period; similarly Brunt 1971, 402–408, but note his second thoughts in 1988, 253 with n. 58; Schneider 1977, 10–16 and 99f.; also Smith 1958, 4 and 9f. This view has been shown to be largely conjectural by Rich 1983, esp. 305–316; Lo Cascio 1988. Further note Rathbone 1993 and the summaries in Rosenstein 2004, 14 with 19960, also 57f. on the practical meaning of the property qualification and 185–188 on the proportion of assidui in the Roman population, as well as in De Ligt 2007, 124–127, who defends central elements of Gabba’s interpretation. On the limited scope of Marius’ ‘reform’ cf. also Aigner 1974, 159–168; idem 1974a; Marino 1980; Keppie 1984, 61–63; contra Harmand 1967, 11–20; Sordi 1972, esp. 384f.; Hackl 1982, 176–182. 85 Cf. Gabba 1951, 178–180 = 1973, 56–58; Brunt 1962, 73–75/ 1988, 253–256; Harmand 1967, 249–257; idem 1969, 63 and 73; Nicolet 1976, 178f.; Schneider 1977, 21f. and passim.

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the recalled general (Mithr. 90.411).86 According to the historian from Alexandria, some very poor legionaries did not fear the penalty and stayed with Lucullus (Mithr. 90.412), which would suggest a certain range of economic backgrounds and interests. Beyond the material situation of the soldiers, however, it does not seem unlikely that their divergent reactions also reflect different degrees of loyalty to the long-time commander. The latter factor may also have played a rôle in Pompey’s decision to do without the services of the 1,600 men he left to Lucullus following their encounter in Asia Minor, even though Plutarch has been seen to be at pains to highlight – with varying nuances – their ill will towards the deposed general.87 In sum, there are a number of indications pointing towards major divisions in the proconsul’s army, yet this still leaves the question of why he should have been affected by them more strongly than Pompey, Caesar, and others. At any rate, it ought to be emphasised that the composition of the soldiery contrasted sharply with that of the crowds to be addressed in the political arena. If Lucullus did not fail to appeal to the short-term gatherings of the urban public, his relationship with the rural poor in the army evidently required a greater degree of empathy on a permanent basis.88 As the general pursued his goals of conquest and glory, his soldiers reacted most sensitively whenever they felt that their concerns and material desires were being neglected. Nevertheless, the foregoing investigation has shown that the proconsul was by no means totally inept at wooing support for his objectives among the troops. While Plutarch and other sources tend to focus on Lucullus’ shortcomings in dealing with the multitude, they also attest that he regularly communicated with his men. Rather than suggesting insurmountable problems between an unpopular commander and notoriously undisciplined soldiers, Lucullus’ constant interaction with the legionaries should be viewed as part of a complex and unstable pattern of success and failure.

86 This passage has occasionally been taken to imply that the troops had procured considerable means during service. Cf. Smith 1958, 371, who surmises that the soldiers had acquired property in Italy; Harmand 1967, 421 with n. 99, who suggests other forms of capital; Aigner 1974, 40; Cagniart 2007, 84, yet this proposition rests on the questionable assumption that the army was exclusively composed of proletarii. Cf. the remarks in Cuff 1954, 132; Gabba 1973, 5834, who both cite Appian’s statement as evidence for peasant proprietors in the legions. More generally, note Rosenstein 2004, 26–106, whose analysis of family life cycles demonstrates that small-scale farming and military service overseas were not necessarily incompatible. 87 See above at nn. 19f. Pompey’s need for as large a force as possible for the ensuing campaign is rightly stressed by Greenhalgh 1980, 108. For the size of his army cf. Brunt 1971, 457–460. 88 Cf. – perhaps over-schematically – Harmand 1967, 304: “Aux diverses raisons personnelles ... de son échec psychologique près du soldat, ne faudrait-il pas ajouter une incapacité, chez ce spécialiste de l’eloquentia urbaine, à se faire aux exigences mentales d’un exercitus de rustres?”.

6. LUCULLUS AND ROMAN FOREIGN RELATIONS Following Lucullus’ victory at Tigranocerta and the ensuing expressions of support on the part of local rulers, Plutarch suggests that his hero conceived a most daring military project: “He determined to ignore Tigranes and Mithridates as exhausted antagonists, and to make trial of the Parthians’ power by marching against them, thinking it a glorious thing, in a single impetuous onset of war, to throw, like an athlete,1 three kings in succession, and to make his way, unvanquished and victorious, through three of the greatest empires under the sun” (Luc. 30.2). The interpretation of this passage is controversial since the preparation of yet another campaign is difficult to reconcile with the strategic situation of Lucullus’ army at a time when Mithridates and Tigranes were assembling military resources to continue their resistance and roll back the Roman advances.2 Although the question cannot definitely be resolved on the basis of the extant evidence, it seems likely that Plutarch’s report reflects the propaganda disseminated either by the proconsul’s domestic opponents, who charged him with protracting the war, or by his foreign enemies, whose warnings to the Parthian king are eloquently expressed in the famous letter ascribed to Mithridates in Sallust’s Histories (frg. 4.69 Maur. = 4.67 McGush.).3 In the present context, the biographer’s reference to Lucullus’ war plans appears to be significant in two ways: on the one hand, it shows that the commander could at least be presented as preparing a major military undertaking on his own, without regard to senatorial authorisation. Thus the episode may be considered to be indicative of the extent of his independence and personal ambition in matters of foreign policy. On the other hand, the passage is emblematic of Plutarch’s tendency to focus on the proconsul’s military exploits, which are unquestionably a central criterion for his judgement of the protagonist’s standing as a historical figure. For the general’s successes on the battlefield are not only the background to the depiction of his character and moral behaviour, but also constitute an important yardstick in the comparison with Cimon and in the appraisal of Lucullus’ rôle in the development of Roman expansionism in the East.4 1 For the image of the athlete cf. also Cim. 13.3; Luc. 38.4; 45.1; 46.3, and Fuhrmann 1964, 244f.; Larmour 2000, 269–271. 2 The project is also mentioned in Eutr. 6.9.2; Fest. 15.3. Against Plutarch’s version cf., among many others, Eckhardt 1910, 194f.; Dobiás' 1931, 231–233; Sherwin-White 1984, 181– 183; contra Koehler 1978, 32 with 113f.134; Ballesteros Pastor 1994, 125–129; idem 1996, 252– 257. See also below at nn. 72ff. 3 On the problem of authenticity and the sources of Sallust’s composition cf. the balanced discussion in McGing 1986, 154–160 with further bibliography. Also note Cass. Dio 36.1.2. On the charges against the proconsul at Rome see chapter 4 at nn. 43 and 120. 4 Cf. Cim. 3; Luc. 36.5–7; 45f. Also note Crass. 18.4. On Plutarch’s admiration for military success cf. the general observations in Duff 1999, 97f.

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Nevertheless, the present chapter shall not accord the same prominence to the analysis of the biographer’s composition as the preceding ones. Above all, this is due to the fact that the material beyond Plutarch is incomparably richer concerning the histoire événementielle of the Mithridatic Wars than with regard to themes related to Lucullus’ personal career. Accordingly, the biographer’s interest in his hero’s military achievements is much less of a distinctive feature of his narrative than the elaboration of leitmotifs centred around particular character traits, even though the latter, too, are often developed in the context of campaigns, battles, and diplomatic activities. For this reason, some readers may be dismayed to find that quite a few of the episodes to be systematised on the following pages have already been approached from various perspectives in the foregoing chapters. However, the closer examination of Lucullus’ activities in the field of foreign policy shall not merely serve to deepen the understanding of topics familiar from previous discussions, but rather round off the overall picture by adding another important facet of the general’s ambitions as a powerful representative of the late Republican aristocracy. Despite the fact that Lucullus conducted the war against Mithridates for many years, the ultimate failure of his campaigns, together with the dominant position assumed by Pompey shortly thereafter, as well as the sparse documentation of his political rôle in the ensuing years have induced modern scholars to neglect the significance of his long-time presence in the East. In the following investigation, it shall be demonstrated that Lucullus not only established a considerable number of personal relationships with various kinds of foreign amici, but also pursued policies that in many ways foreshadowed those subsequently adopted by Pompey, Caesar, and the other protagonists of the Civil Wars. Between Interstate and Interpersonal Relations As indicated at the end of chapter 2, Rainer Bernhardt has suggested that Lucullus’ policy of conferring liberty on a number of poleis in Asia Minor was essentially rooted in the general’s personality and philhellenic inclinations.5 Evidently, this interpretation is inspired by Plutarch’s elaboration of the theme of Hellenism in the Lucullus, which has been seen to reflect not only the biographer’s purpose and interests but also the view propounded by the commander himself and the people in his retinue.6 In the case of Lucullus, Bernhardt thus minimises the political dimension of Roman philhellenism, whereas he considers the same kind of measures taken by Pompey shortly thereafter as a means of acquiring a personal following.7 5 Cf. Bernhardt 1971, 134–143, esp. 139: “Zwar kann es sein, daß das politische Motiv, die Griechenstädte während des Krieges mit Mithridates durch eine milde Behandlung für Rom zu gewinnen, an der Entscheidung Lukulls Anteil hatte. Im wesentlichen aber wurzelte das Verhalten Lukulls in einem echten Philhellenismus und einem bißchen Eitelkeit”. 6 See chapter 2 at n. 93. 7 Cf. Bernhardt 1971, 144–152: “Freiheitsverleihungen des Pompeius als Mittel zur Gewin-

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However, it is difficult to see why Lucullus’ attitude towards foreign communities should have been determined by factors entirely different from those shaping the policies of his more successful contemporary. For although the long-time commander against Mithridates was later represented as indulging in the pleasures of his alleged retirement, it has been seen in chapters 3 and 4 that he was actually a very active player in the Roman power game centred on the pursuit of glory and dignity.8 Accordingly, the following analysis shall be designed to show that Lucullus’ policies in the East can most reasonably be interpreted as reflecting the general trends and patterns of Roman foreign relations in the late Republic. Naturally, much of the evidence to be adduced consists of brief references which fail to define the nature of the respective relationships in any greater detail. In some instances, the connexion between Lucullus and his foreign partners may actually have been rather superficial and short-lived. Moreover, personal bonds were not necessarily exclusive since many of those who had for some time been exposed to Roman influence presumably maintained multiple links with various powerful senators.9 These limitations notwithstanding, the relevant material attests to a foreign following of considerable size and diversity.

Rulers Throughout its campaigns in Asia Minor, Lucullus’ army received military and logistic support from friendly kings whose authority was partly derived from the backing of the Romans. Although these efforts are rarely documented by more than a brief remark in the literary sources, they can safely be assumed to have been substantial, given that small-scale policing operations and the assistance of Roman forces constituted a common duty for allies on the frontier.10 In particular, Galatians and Cappadocians are time and again recorded as fighting along with Lucullus’ legions, as supplying them with grain and other provisions, and as performing special duties like preparing the crossing of the Euphrates.11 As for the Galatian Deiotarus, he also conducted operations on his own, and successfully repelled an advance by one of Mithridates’ generals.12

nung einer persönlichen politischen Anhängerschaft”. On the political functions of philhellenism cf. the references cited in chapter 2, n. 96. 8 See esp. chapter 3 at nn. 95ff. and chapter 4 at nn. 108ff. 9 On the multiplicity of obligations and its implications cf. generally Meier 1980, 15–18; Brunt 1988d, 398–400. 10 Cf. generally Luttwak 1976, 24–27; Braund 1984, 91–93; also Yoshimura 1961. – Mithridates’ statement in Sall. hist. frg. 4.69.21 Maur. = 4.67.21 McGush. to the effect that Lucullus lacked support by allies (sine auxiliis) is no more than a rhetorical point. 11 Fighting: Plut. Luc. 28.2; Memnon, F 30.1; also Strab. 12.2.1; provisions: Plut. Luc. 14.1; App. Mithr. 80.357 and 359; Sall. hist. frg. 4.69.15 Maur. = 4.67.15 McGush.; Euphrates: Sall. hist. frg. 4.59 Maur. = 4.60 McGush. Cf. also Hoben 1969, 64f. and 150; Liebmann-Frankfort 1969, 220f.; Sullivan 1990, 153, 280f., and passim. 12 Cf. App. Mithr. 75.326; Liv. per. 94.2; Oros. 6.2.18; further Cic. Phil. 11.33.

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Apart from furnishing supplies and military assistance, amici on the periphery of the Roman sphere were expected to provide advice and information on regional affairs, and could be requested to render diplomatic services.13 According to Cassius Dio (36.3.1), Lucullus learnt from his friends of negotiations between Tigranes and Mithridates on the one hand and the Parthian king on the other, and thereupon decided to approach the latter through envoys recruited among his local allies, presumably on account of their contacts and familiarity with the situation at the Parthian court.14 As a result of Lucullus’ victories in Pontus and Armenia, a large number of dynasts sought recognition from the proconsul, and thus tried to secure their rule under the changed circumstances. Most notably, Mithridates’ son Machares, who ruled the Bosporan kingdom, abandoned his father’s cause in the wake of Eupator’s expulsion from Asia Minor. Sending a golden crown to Lucullus, he asked for the friendship of the Romans as a way of safeguarding his own dominion on the northern shore of the Black Sea.15 According to Memnon, Machares further demonstrated his gratitude by complying with Lucullus’ demand to cancel food supplies to the as yet unconquered city of Sinope, and had them shipped to the Roman camp instead.16 Likewise, princes from various parts of Tigranes’ kingdom called on Lucullus after the Roman victory at Tigranocerta, and offered him gifts and provisions. While Plutarch makes a general remark on the overtures of Arab kings and records the support of the Sopheni as well as the Gordyeni (Luc. 29.7), Cassius Dio (36.2.5) specifically mentions the reception of Antiochus I of Commagene, who took to styling himself Philorhomaios, and of Alchaudonius, king of the Rhambaeans.17 In granting the recognition requested by these rulers, Lucullus himself was certainly no less anxious than his foreign counterparts to establish friendly relations with a view to facilitating the control of the conquered territories. For the same reason, he had obliged a number of native leaders by protecting their captured wives from outrage during the sack of Tigranocerta (Cass. Dio 36.2.4). Earlier on, Lucullus’ envoy Appius Claudius had secretly negotiated with a number of princes and cities dissatisfied with the rule of Tigranes in order to prepare the subsequent invasion of Armenia (Plut. Luc. 21.2).18 Among those 13

Cf. generally Braund 1984, 95f. On the problems surrounding the negotiations with the Parthians see below at nn. 72ff. 15 Cf. Plut. Luc. 24.1; App. Mithr. 83.375; Memnon, F 37.6; Liv. per. 98.1. On Machares and his policies cf. generally Shelov 1978. 16 There is no compelling reason to disbelieve this detail, even though Plutarch and Appian report the alliance with Machares only after the capture of Sinope. Cf. Janke 1963, 118f. 17 Cf. also Cass. Dio 47.27.3, and note the general statement in Oros. 6.3.7; further Plut. Luc. 46.1. Antiochus’ submission may have been preceded by hostilities; for according to Plin. nat. 2.235, Lucullus besieged the king’s capital, Samosata. Magie 1950, 1216f.46, followed by Facella 2006, 226f., suspects confusion with events at Tigranocerta, whereas Liebmann-Frankfort 1969, 228 is inclined to accept Pliny’s version as it stands. For Antiochus’ further career and titulature cf. Sullivan 1977, 763–770; idem 1990, 193–197; Facella 2005; eadem 2006, 225–297. Alchaudonius is apparently to be identified with the Alchaedamnus mentioned in Strab. 16.2.10. 18 See the discussion in the next section as well as the remarks in chapter 3 at n. 17. 14

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brought over to the Roman side by Appius, Plutarch singles out Zarbienus, king of the Gordyeni, who was shortly thereafter denounced and killed along with his family at the hands of Tigranes’ men (Luc. 29.8). Having dealt with the latter’s defeat at Tigranocerta, the biographer states that “Lucullus was not unmindful of all this, but on entering the country of the Gordyeni, appointed funeral rites in honour of Zarbienus: after adorning a pyre with clothing and royal gold and with the spoils taken from Tigranes, he set fire to it with his own hand, and together with the friends and relatives (meta; fivlwn kai; oijkeivwn) of the man poured libations upon it, calling him a comrade of his and an ally of the Romans (eJtai`ron eJautou` kai; JRwmaivwn suvmmacon ajnakalouvmeno"). He also ordered that a monument be erected to his memory at great cost; for many treasures were found in the palace of Zarbienus, including gold and silver, and three million bushels of grain were stored up there, so that the soldiers derived profit from it, and Lucullus was admired for not taking a single drachma from the public treasury, but making the war pay for itself” (Luc. 29.9f.). Extolling the example set by Zarbienus and commemorating the king’s share in the Roman victory, the funeral itself as well as the honorific monument were evidently meant to seal Lucullus’ enduring friendship with the Gordyeni. Apart from reassuring the local élite, the ceremony further enabled the commander to woo the loyalty of other dynasts who might be encouraged to put their trust in the fides of the Romans. The potential value of their support is made clear by the fact that the Gordyeni not only extended their gratitude to the proconsul but also allowed him to capitalise on their substantial material resources. What is more, the episode repeatedly highlights Lucullus’ personal involvement in the funeral and thus gives a glimpse of the nature of his connexion with the friendly community. Above all, the phrase “a comrade of his and an ally of the Romans” eloquently captures both the interstate and the interpersonal dimension of the relationship while at the same time implying a high degree of intimacy by employing the term eJtai`ro" instead of the more common but less emphatic fivlo".19 Another special case is that of the Seleucid Antiochus XIII Asiaticus, who received Lucullus’ backing for his long-standing claim to the Syrian throne. As to the proconsul’s involvement in Antiochus’ accession, Justin (40.2.2) only briefly reports that Lucullus named him king of Syria, whereas Appian assigns a more passive rôle to the Roman commander: claiming that the king had himself assumed the government with the consent of the Syrians, he asserts that Lucullus “did not begrudge him his ancestral dominion” (Syr. 49.249f.).20 Whatever the extent of the proconsul’s interference, the Seleucid proved unable to maintain his position in the face of domestic opposition, and ultimately fell victim to Pom-

19

Cf. also the brief remarks in Scardigli 1989, 446f.390, and note Cosçkun 2005, 1881 for references to later occurrences of similar phrases. On Zarbienus and the Gordyeni cf. further Sullivan 1990, 108f. 20 On these differences cf. also Rizzo 1963, 66; further Koehler 1978, 58–60, who goes beyond the evidence, however, when he surmises that ‘Rome’, i.e. her political class as a whole, was dissatisfied with Antiochus’ acting on his own initiative.

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pey’s reversal of Lucullus’ decision, which shall be discussed in context in the final section of this chapter. While the sources regularly refer to Lucullus’ success in gaining the support of indigenous rulers, the hostility of others is indicated less frequently and no more than in passing. In Plutarch’s narrative, this emphasis clearly corresponds to the biographer’s intention to highlight the attractive force of his hero’s pra/ovth", filanqrwpiva, and related qualities.21 Accordingly, the goodwill of the local population is stressed, for instance, in a passage on Lucullus’ swift crossing of the Euphrates and in the aforementioned episode about the Gordyeni (Luc. 24.6; 29.7). On the other hand, Plutarch also dwells on the proconsul’s efforts to subdue Barbarians, and occasionally enumerates kings and nations opposing the Roman forces in order to underline the magnitude of the protagonist’s military achievements.22 Presumably, not all of those fighting on the side of Mithridates and Tigranes sent their contingents out of enthusiasm, yet this undoubtedly applies to some of Rome’s amici as well. After all, the demands made on local friends were often exacting, and the prevailing balance of power rarely left the weaker party with a wide range of policy options. Furthermore, the support provided by a particular individual or a certain segment of the population may in many cases have been counterbalanced by the loyalties of others leaning towards the opposing side. Thus Plutarch can furnish information both concerning the presence of a contingent of Gordyeni in Tigranes’ army (Luc. 26.4) and regarding the later demonstration of affection for the proconsul on the part of those attached to Zarbienus.

Cities Like many of his peers in late Republican Rome, Lucullus was honoured by a number of Greek cities in recognition of benefactions conferred on them. Accordingly, quite a few inscriptions from mainland Greece, the Aegean, and Asia Minor, relating both to his tenure as quaestor and proquaestor during the First and to his proconsulship during the Third Mithridatic War, bestow various honorific titles on him.23 Remarkably, the majority of the extant texts can be dated to the earlier period, in some cases no doubt on account of particular achievements such as the suppression of piracy or due to special circumstances like the economic difficulties of the cities in the wake of the Peace of Dardanus. While an inscription from Hypata (IG IX 2.38 = SIG3 743) is likely to be related to Lucullus’ activities in Greece in 87, a Latin text expressing the gratitude of the merchants operating on Delos (Inscriptions de Délos 1620) may be 21

See chapter 2, esp. at nn. 30ff. Cf. Luc. 26.4; 31.6–8; further App. Mithr. 69.292f.; Cic. Manil. 23. See also chapter 5 at nn. 6f. for Plutarch’s depiction of the Barbarian plh`qo". 23 The material is conveniently recorded and briefly discussed in Ameling 1989; Canali De Rossi 2001, 62f. 22

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connected with his subsequent naval mission in the Eastern Mediterranean, which entailed several engagements with Pontic squadrons and pirates. In the course of this expedition, Lucullus received ships from various allies as he passed by, and thus established contacts in Crete, Cyrene, Egypt, Cyprus, Rhodes, and sundry other places in the Aegean and on the coast of the Asian mainland.24 The same voyage also appears to provide the background to a rather extensive inscription from the Cilician city of Mopsuestia which attests to the commander’s interaction with the priest Diodotus, citing the confirmation of a grant of asylia to the local sanctuary of Isis and Serapis at the request of Lucullus.25 Further honorary inscriptions from Ephesus (Inschr. Ephesos 2941), Thyateira (TAM V 2.918), and Synnada (MAMA IV 52) presumably reflect the proquaestor’s efforts to mitigate the hardships experienced by the cities of the province of Asia in consequence of the enormous indemnity imposed by Sulla in 85 (Plut. Luc. 4.1).26 Later on, during the Third Mithridatic War, Lucullus could build on the ties forged early in his career when he once again relied on allied cities to contribute ships in order to fight the Pontic fleet in the Aegean (Plut. Luc. 13.4). Moreover, the proconsul earned further gratitude among the provincials as a result of his measures designed to overcome the debt problem and owing to his policy of sparing the citizens the billeting of troops.27 Surprisingly, however, only two of the extant inscriptions can securely be assigned to the time of Lucullus’ proconsulship, namely statue bases from Andros (BE 1970, no. 441) and from the sanctuary of Claros (Ferrary 2000, 339f. = SEG 49, 1999, 1508). In addition, there are three undated inscriptions from Athens (IG II-III2 3.4104; 4105; 4233), one of which was dedicated to the commander’s daughter, as well as a fragmentary text from Chios naming a L. Licinius (Ameling 1989 = SEG 39, 1989, 881), which has plausibly been suggested to refer to Lucullus.28 Most of these inscriptions praise the general as eujergevth", while those from Thyateira and Claros also honour him as swthvr, and the texts from Synnada and Andros employ the Roman term pavtrwn.29 The latter designation is of particular significance; for unlike the 24

Cf. Plut. Luc. 2.3–3.4; App. Mithr. 33.131f.; 56.226; Ios. ant. Iud. 14.114; also vir. ill. 74.2, and the detailed treatment in Schütz 1994, 61–70; also Olshausen 1963, 12–21. Various aspects of the journey are discussed in chapter 2 at nn. 37ff., chapter 3 at nn. 5ff., and chapter 4 at nn. 12ff. On Lucullus’ connexion with Cyrene see also below. 25 Text, commentary, and contextualisation in Sayar et al. 1994 (= SEG 44, 1994, 1227). Cf. also Rigsby 1996, 465–471. For the date see chapter 4 at n. 10. 26 See chapter 2 at nn. 40f. and chapter 4 at n. 17. In addition, note IG XII 1.48 = SIG3 745, recording a Rhodian embassy to Lucullus. 27 See chapter 2 at nn. 45ff. with references. 28 Among other things, Ameling calls attention to the expulsion of the Mithridatic forces from the island by Lucullus in 85 (Plut. Luc. 3.4). On the Athenian inscriptions see below. – Further note Pomtow 1921, 163f. = SEG 1, 1923, 153 from Delphi, which has been connected with Lucullus, even though this hypothesis involves restoring much of the dedicatee’s fragmentary name and assuming that the cognomen was omitted. Nor is it convincing to associate the commander with the lacunose text of Inscriptions de Délos 1699, as proposed by Olshausen 1963, 20f., following a suggestion by Otto Hirschfeld. 29 Thyateira: swth`ra kai; eujergevthn kai; kt∫[ivsthn] vel k[hdemovna] (Robert 1974, 230);

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essentially ornamental titles derived from the Hellenistic tradition, it apparently implies a formal request on the part of the citizens to establish bonds of patronage.30 Naturally, the surviving evidence only represents a small fraction of the honours actually conferred on Lucullus. In some cases, further expressions of respect can be deduced from references in the literary sources. According to Plutarch, the proconsul was honoured as eujergevth" and ktivsth" by the many erstwhile inhabitants of Tigranocerta whom he had provided with money before sending them back to their native cities (Luc. 29.5).31 Although no local evidence is extant, it is clear that Lucullus was therefore held in high regard by a number of communities in the south-eastern part of Asia Minor; for Cilicia and Cappadocia had been the regions most strongly affected by the deportations conducted to populate Tigranes’ newly founded capital.32 At Amisus, the proconsul may likewise have been honoured as ktivsth" on account of his efforts to further the recovery of the polis as he helped to rebuild the city, increased its population, and expanded its territory.33 In this context, Plutarch further reports that the general sent home some of the Athenians who had formerly fled to Amisus (Luc. 19.7f.), and who may at some later point have set up the aforementioned inscriptions discovered in their home city.34 Moreover, Appian records that Amisus as well as Sinope were granted libertas by Lucullus (Mithr. 83.370 and 374) – notwithstanding their long-time resistance to the Roman legions.35 Among the places visited by the commander in the course of the First Mithridatic War, the case of Cyrene merits closer attention. According to Plutarch, Lucullus won the gratitude of the city’s inhabitants as a result of his measures designed to terminate their civil strife and to reform their constitution, though his settlement may not have lasted for long after his departure.36 Citing this episode, Ernst Badian has hypothesised that Lucullus’ rôle as a patron of the city was instrumental in bringing about the decision to set up Cyrenaica as a Roman province following his election as consul more than a decade later.37 If this proposiClaros: eujergevthn kai; swth`ra; Synnada: pavtrwna kai; eujergevthn; Andros: pavtrw[na] kai; eujergevth[n]; also Ephesus: [pavtrwna vel swth`ra (Ameling 1989, 9911) k]ai; eujergevt[hn]. 30 Cf. the well-documented example in Reynolds 1982, doc. 3, ll. 49–57, and the discussions in Ferrary 1997, 109f.; idem 1997a, 209f.; Canali De Rossi 2001, 49–54; Eilers 2002, 23–32. See also below at n. 81. 31 See chapter 2 at n. 55. 32 Cf. Strab. 11.14.15; 12.2.9; Plut. Luc. 21.4; 26.1; App. Mithr. 67.285, and Siewert 1995, 226–230. 33 See chapter 2 at nn. 50 and 88ff. with references. 34 As suggested by Johannes Kirchner in his note to IG II-III2 3.4104. On the other hand, Crawford 1978, 205 surmises that the Athenian inscriptions reflect benefactions requested by Antiochus of Ascalon “in return for his association with Lucullus”, but this is pure guesswork. 35 Cf. Bernhardt 1971, 137–141; also idem 1985, 66f., who points out that the proconsul set a precedent by conferring liberty on cities that had not previously sided with the Romans. 36 See also chapter 2 at nn. 37ff. For the situation in Cyrene at the time of the general’s visit cf. Romanelli 1943, 43–46; Oost 1963, 16–19; Braund 1985, 319–322; Laronde 1987, 455–478. 37 Cf. Badian 1958, 140; idem 1965, 119; idem 1968, 35f.

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tion were correct, it would strikingly illustrate the potential impact of patronage on policy-making, yet explicit evidence is lacking, and probably the matter had already been decided by the time Lucullus was elected.38 Finally, a number of sources indicate that in some communities the memory of Lucullus’ benefactions was still alive in the imperial period.39 In this respect, the most spectacular testimony is of course Plutarch’s Life of Lucullus, which is presented as a literary homage equalling and surpassing the honour of the marble statue of the Roman general that had been erected in the city’s market-place (Cim. 2.2).40 Apart from this, Appian relates that the citizens of Cyzicus continued to celebrate games called Lucullea at the time of his writing (Mithr. 76.330).41 The longevity of local reverence for Lucullus is also confirmed by the aforementioned inscription from Synnada; for its lettering indicates that the text was restored around A.D. 150/200.42 Furthermore, the Paphlagonian cities of Sinope, Amastris, and, most probably, Abonuteichus have been shown to have adopted Lucullan eras which were at least intermittently used over the following centuries.43 The coinage of Sinope is of particular interest since it shows that the city reintroduced a Lucullan era at the time of the Severans, but the reason for this remains obscure and may be unconnected with the figure of the Republican general.44 Substantial though the evidence adduced in the present section may appear, it ought to be interpreted with a fair amount of caution; for the actual motivation for bestowing honours on a Roman magistrate may at times have been rather different from the gratitude professed in public. As the notorious example of C. Verres amply demonstrates, governors could in fact be awarded statues in large quantities notwithstanding an abysmal record of extortion in their province.45 This is not to suggest that Lucullus was merely praised out of flattery and fear, yet it should be borne in mind that provincial cities were inclined to extol his benefactions with political ends in view.46 In the late Republican context, it is not without 38

This chronology is suggested by Sall. hist. frg. 2.43 Maur. = 2.41 McGush. but at variance with App. civ. 1.111.517. Cf. Perl 1970, 321–325, esp. 3211, followed by Bernhardt 1985, 84; further Oost 1963, 20f. Also note Laronde 1987, 461, who rejects Badian’s proposition on the grounds that Lucullus was “l’exécuteur des ordres exigeants de Sulla, et non le défenseur des Cyrénéens”. To some extent, however, the proquaestor may in fact have performed both of these rôles. 39 Cf. Jones 2001 on the continued reverence for Republican benefactors in general and for Lucullus in particular (pp. 12–15). 40 See chapter 1 at nn. 49ff. and chapter 2 at nn. 30ff. 41 For the festivals organised by the cities of Asia (Plut. Luc. 23.2) in response to the proconsul’s reforms in the province see chapter 2 at n. 53. 42 This practice appears to have been rather unusual. Cf. Tuchelt 1979, 63 and 122f. 43 Cf. Marek 1985, 144–152; Leschhorn 1993, 157–169, with catalogue 478–481. 44 Cf. Waddington et al. 1925, Sinope, nos. 122–122c and 145–168b. Additional references in Leschhorn 1993, 478f., who further suggests that the abandonment of the alternative Caesarian era may have been due to the Severans’ rejection of the concept of clementia but also, perhaps more satisfactorily, speculates about local factors (pp. 161f.). 45 Cf., e.g., Cic. Verr. 2.2.145; 154; 160. 46 Cf. the general reflexions in Bernhardt 1985, 179–182. Minimising this aspect, Erkelenz 2003, 172–197 insists that honorific monuments should not simply be considered a matter of

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significance, moreover, that increasingly elaborate honours were ever more frequently conferred on Roman senators, though this inflation of inscriptions and honorific titles occurred only gradually during the first century.47 Inevitably, any quantitative assessment is problematic due to the fragmentary nature of the extant evidence, but the fact remains that the material pertaining to Lucullus, especially to his tenure as quaestor and proquaestor, is out of the ordinary.48

Aristocrats and Intellectuals Beyond his dealings with local rulers and cities, Lucullus was constantly surrounded by a number of foreign individuals. The poet Archias and the Academic philosopher Antiochus of Ascalon are doubtless the most prominent members of this circle, though it is clear that the general’s foreign retinue was actually much larger. Regarding Antiochus, Cicero states that he joined Lucullus both at the time of his quaestorship and when he was supreme commander, and further mentions that the scholar was attended by some of his pupils, viz. his brother Aristus, Aristo, and Dio of Alexandria, during Lucullus’ visit to Egypt in 86 (ac. pr. 4; 12).49 In addition, the Index Academicorum (34) reports that Antiochus died accompanying the proconsul in Mesopotamia,50 while Plutarch refers to the philosopher as his hero’s fivlo" and sumbiwthv" (Luc. 42.3).51 As for Antiochus’ rôle in the general’s entourage, he certainly acted as a political advisor and expert on the affairs of the Greek world, but there is no reason to doubt that Lucullus valued him for his learning and cultural prestige as well.52 Furthermore, it must not be forgotten that the philosopher also helped to magnify the glory of the commander’s exploits in writing.53 A comparable function must have been performed by Archias, who, according to Cicero, had been welcomed to the house of the Luculli upon his arrival at Rome in 102.54 A few decades later, the poet accompanied Lucullus on both of routine. Still, he admits that they do not necessarily denote exceptional measures and may sometimes not even imply “daß ... ein positives Verhalten überhaupt vorlag” (p. 197). 47 Cf. Tuchelt 1979, 121–127; Bernhardt 1998, 44f.; Højte 2002, 58f., with the figures in Payne 1984, 358, table 6. 48 Cf. also the remarks in Schütz 1994, 76. 49 Also note the lists of pupils in Phld. Acad. Ind. 34f. On the people concerned cf. Barnes 1989, 59f. with further references; also Van ’t Dack 1980, 33. 50 Cf. further Cic. ac. pr. 61. 51 On this passage see chapter 2 at n. 16. Further note Ail. var. 12.25. 52 The philosopher’s political function is stressed by Glucker 1978, 21–27 and 91f.; also Rawson 1985, 81; eadem 1989, 238f., yet this may be too one-sided. Cf. Barnes 1989, 55–59; also Lévy 1992, 88f.; Haltenhoff 1998, 64f. For Antiochus’ possible involvement in drafting the constitutional reforms implemented in Cyrene see chapter 2 at n. 39, further at n. 3ff. on the nature and extent of Lucullus’ own intellectual aspirations. 53 See chapter 1 at n. 70 and chapter 2 at n. 93. 54 Cf. Arch. 5: eum domum suam receperunt.

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his long-time missions to the East (Cic. Arch. 11). Apparently, one of his main tasks consisted in devising and spreading propaganda; for after his return to Rome he published his eulogising poem on the general’s exploits, the lasting influence of which has repeatedly been discussed in the course of the present enquiry.55 Evidently, it served a purpose not dissimilar to that of Theophanes’ account of Pompey’s campaigns.56 Among the less prominent members of the commander’s retinue, both Plutarch and Appian single out a Dandarian prince called Olthacus or Olcabas.57 This noble from the Northern shore of the Black Sea had originally been an associate of Mithridates’, but then, it is said, pretended to have changed sides in order to make an attempt on the proconsul’s life. At some point, he was made a companion of Lucullus’ at table and a member of his council, yet he eventually returned to the Pontic camp without having achieved his purpose.58 Another of the general’s foreign amici is identified by Cicero, who notes that one of Verres’ victims in Sicily, Eupolemus of Calacte, was a hospes and perfamiliaris of Lucullus’, and accompanied the proconsul in the war against Mithridates (Verr. 2.4.49). Beyond the circle of his constant companions, Lucullus is known to have won the gratitude of various other foreigners of wealth and distinction. As has been pointed out in chapter 2, Plutarch relates that many Greeks as well as relatives of Mithridates owed their liberation from captivity to the proconsul’s cavri" (Luc. 18.1f.).59 According to a perhaps exaggerated remark in Cicero, moreover, Lucullus received substantial legacies from people in the province of Asia on account of his lenient policies at the time of his governorship (Flacc. 85). This reference is particularly instructive since it indicates that the gratitude of some of the provincials outlived Lucullus’ tenure as proconsul. Finally, a large number of Greeks coming to Rome visited the consular’s house, which Plutarch has been seen to describe as a prutanei`on E J llhnikovn (Luc. 42.1f.).60 At any rate, it may be taken for granted that only a tiny proportion of the general’s foreign friends are known by name.

The Quest for Power and Glory In the discussion of Lucullus’ rôle in Roman domestic politics in chapter 4, it has been argued that the consul of 74 was a very active and ambitious member of the ruling aristocracy who was essentially driven not by factional considerations or ideological concerns but by the desire to accrue power and prestige in order to 55

See chapter 1 at n. 69 and chapter 2 at n. 93. On Archias’ status and literary production cf. Wiseman 1982, 31–34 = 1987, 266–269; Gold 1987, 73–86; Steel 2001, 82–85. 56 Cic. Arch. 24 concludes a series of parallels by adducing the case of Theophanes. 57 Cf. Plut. Luc. 16; App. Mithr. 79.353f. 58 Cf. Plut. Luc. 16.3: trapevzh" kai; sunedrivou pote; poiei`sqai koinwnovn. On the whole episode cf. Heinen 1991 (1996), 161–165. 59 See chapter 2 at n. 60. 60 See chapter 2 at n. 14.

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enhance his personal standing. This picture is clearly confirmed by the determination and independence which mark the commander’s political and diplomatic activities in the theatre of war. The most striking illustration of his exercise of discretionary power is provided by the preparation of the campaign against Tigranes, which shows not only Lucullus’ ambition for glory and wealth but also the importance of wooing allies and the concomitant use of propaganda. When the proconsul sent Appius Claudius to Antioch, his official mission was to demand the surrender of Mithridates, who had taken refuge to Armenia but was actually denied access to his son-in-law Tigranes as the latter tried to avoid the impression of posing a challenge to the Romans.61 However, Plutarch’s account (Luc. 21), while being heavily biased against the Armenian king, reveals that Appius committed several acts of provocation in the expectation of an imminent military confrontation: after ridding himself of Tigranes’ guides, who had allegedly tried to force him on a needless detour, he colluded with a number of the king’s subjects including the aforementioned Zarbienus, and finally threatened the Armenian ruler with war in case he did not deliver Mithridates up to the Romans.62 Several modern scholars have ascribed Appius’ offensive behaviour to his own initiative, describing it as a show of “Claudian pride”,63 yet this is not what the sources say. On the contrary, both Plutarch and Memnon report that it was Lucullus himself who, in his letter to Tigranes, denied him the title of King of Kings, which not merely reflected the monarch’s claim to stand in the tradition of the Achaemenid rulers of Persia, but also expressed his suzerainty over many dynasts and vassal kings.64 Rather than suggesting disagreement between the proconsul and his envoy, the biographer further indicates that Appius promised Tigranes’ subjects the assistance of Lucullus and bade them keep quiet for the time being (Luc. 21.2), thus implying a definite plan to carry the war to Armenia. As for Tigranes, there is little doubt that he shunned an armed conflict with Rome. Ignoring Mithridates’ requests for military assistance, he had refused to enter the war before the Pontic king had suffered defeat, which makes it odd to assume that he was eager to face Lucullus’ army after his father-in-law had been driven from his homeland.65 Although Tigranes was not prepared to surrender his 61 Cf. Plut. Luc. 22.1; App. Mithr. 82.368; Memnon, F 31.1; 38.1, the latter passage indicating that Mithridates’ isolation lasted 20 months. Plutarch’s suggestion that he suffered bad treatment is probably misleading. Cf. Janke 1963, 108 and 121. 62 Cf. also Sall. hist. frg. 4.56 Maur. = 4.57 McGush.: tetrarchas regesque territos animi firmavit. For Plutarch’s bias against Tigranes see chapter 2 at nn. 56ff. and chapter 3 at n. 16. Apart from the references cited there, cf. also Manandian 1963, 75–78 and passim. 63 Cf. Sherwin-White 1984, 173; also Keaveney 1992, 103; further Ballesteros Pastor 1996, 241; idem 1999, 333. 64 Cf. Luc. 21.7; Memnon, F 31.3. On the meaning of Tigranes’ adoption of the title cf. Pulci Doria Breglia 1973/74, 50–52. Further note that Pompey later accorded it to the younger Tigranes on the occasion of his triumph. Cf. Cass. Dio 37.6.2, and Heftner 1995, 267f. for further discussion. 65 Cf. Plut. Luc. 23.7, which cites Lucullus’ alleged astonishment at this. According to Memnon, F 29.6, Tigranes had consented to an alliance following the Pontic débâcle at Cyzicus, yet there is no indication that he lent any military support.

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relative to the proconsul, it is remarkable that he avoided personal contact with him over several months and, according to Plutarch, rather cautiously replied to Appius that if the Romans began war he would defend himself (Luc. 21.7). At the time of Lucullus’ attack, moreover, the king was preoccupied with operations in Phoenicia and actually had to redeploy his forces to confront the Roman invaders.66 Consequently, Plutarch’s reference to an imminent offensive on the part of Tigranes and Mithridates (Luc. 23.7) is virtually certain to reflect Lucullan propaganda designed to represent the Roman campaign as a pre-emptive strike.67 As has been pointed out in chapter 5, the supposed threat of an Armenian attack figures prominently in one of the speeches ascribed to the proconsul in the biographer’s narrative (Luc. 14.6–8), and thus fits into a pattern of defence against the charge of protracting the war, which is for the first time recorded in the context of Lucullus’ invasion of Armenia (Luc. 24.1).68 Apparently, it was the general’s own decision to make war on Tigranes,69 and however much he may have been convinced to act in accordance with Roman interests, it is clear that the campaign was to a large extent the object of his personal ambition.70 While it is important to appreciate the intensity of Lucullus’ thirst for glory and riches, it also needs to be pointed out that the proconsul’s behaviour was by no means unprecedented. In fact, the desire of individual commanders to celebrate victories and triumphs was one of the driving forces behind Roman expansionism, and there is ample evidence for generals exceeding their authority in this way, without necessarily damaging their prospects for future political success.71 66

Cf. Ios. ant. Iud. 13.419–421; bell. Iud. 1.116. Cf. also Memnon, F 38.1; further Cic. Sest. 58: Tigranes iniuriis in socios nostros inferendis bello prope nos lacessisset. For the kings’ projected invasion as propaganda cf., e.g., McGing 1986, 153; also Manandian 1963, 100; pace Keaveney 1992, 103–105. 68 See chapter 5 at nn. 69ff. Further note Luc. 9.5, which describes Mithridates’ troops as pretending to be supported by Tigranes in order to deceive the Cyzicenes. 69 Cf. esp. Sherwin-White 1984, 174–176; idem 1994, 239f.; also Manandian 1963, 75–100; Liebmann-Frankfort 1969, 229–236; pace Keaveney 1992, 99–104 and 112f., who maintains that Lucullus had originally wished to avoid war and was legally authorised to invade Armenia. Also note Kallet-Marx 1995, 303f., 312, and 315, who argues that Lucullus only intended to raid the country in order “to bully Tigranes into relinquishing Mithridates” (p. 315). 70 Cf., e.g., Scardigli 1989, 258f.; also Ferrero 1902, 282–286. Further note the exaggerated judgement expressed by Wylie 1994, 117, who surmises that Lucullus’ operations in Armenia were driven by “near-megalomania”. Some scholars lay more stress on reasons of raison d’état, e.g., Mommsen 1909, 65f.; Eckhardt 1910, 72–74; also McGing 1986, 153. Cf. LiebmannFrankfort 1969, 231–233 for a review of the principal positions on the question. Further note Bengtson 1982, 210: “Im übrigen lag der entscheidende Grund zum Feldzug in der gesteigerten Beutegier der Römer”. 71 Cf. Feig Vishnia 1996, 176–191, also for the following point. Further note Hackl 1982, who outlines the increasing power of generals in the second and first centuries; Eckstein 1987, who highlights the de facto leeway enjoyed by commanders operating overseas but also stresses the consensual character of Roman decision-making; Zack 2001, 99–118 and 132–149, who approaches the problem from a juridical perspective. For Rome’s competitive political culture as a source of aggression cf. esp. Harris 1979, 10–41; also the qualifications in Rich 1993, 49–66; pace Kostial 1995, 101–109. Further note the review of various relevant contributions in 67

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Granted, the transgressions reported by the sources are not infrequently followed by arguments between commanders and senators, yet it is noteworthy that the former mostly prevail on account of presenting their opponents with a fait accompli – a precondition that Lucullus simply failed to meet. Presumably, it was against the background of his attack on Armenia that the proconsul could later be presented as preparing a further campaign against Parthia. As has been pointed out at the beginning of this chapter, it is rather unlikely that he seriously considered to aggravate his already difficult situation by embarking on yet another military adventure. Nevertheless, it need not be doubted that Lucullus chose to deal with the Arsacid king in a self-confident and assertive way on the diplomatic level, perhaps even engaging in what Arthur Keaveney has called “the fine art of brinkmanship by bullying and insulting the Parthians”.72 However, too little can definitely be established about the course of the negotiations between the two parties – about who took the initiative in the first place,73 about what kind of agreement was reached,74 and about why the Arsacid king eventually decided to remain neutral75 – to draw further conclusions concerning the proconsul’s political style and strategy. As for the degree of Lucullus’ independence, it ought to be borne in mind that he actually met the expenses of the campaign from the resources acquired in the theatre of war. According to Plutarch, this brought him admiration and was the object of boasting and publicity in a letter to the Senate and on the occasion of his triumph.76 What is more, the ability to finance the war without relying on public funds needs to be viewed within the context of the general’s political and Errington 1990 and the discussion in Eckstein 2006, who too readily accepts the ‘realist’ premise of ‘rational’ states pursuing power-maximising strategies, though. 72 Keaveney 1981, 211f. Note that Cass. Dio 36.3.1 mentions promises as well as threats in describing the proconsul’s message to Phraates. 73 According to Plut. Luc. 30.1, Lucullus responded to a Parthian embassy, but Cass. Dio 36.3.1; App. Mithr. 87.393; Memnon, F 38.8 all suggest that the proconsul was the first to act. The latter version seems to give a more complete picture of the diplomatic activities. Cf. esp. Dobiás' 1931, 229f.; also Bulin 1983, 82f. 74 Beyond references to filiva and summaciva in the sources cited in the previous note, Oros. 6.13.2 mentions a foedus Luculli et Pompei in the context of Crassus’ Parthian campaign, whereas Flor. 1.46.4 names Sulla instead of Lucullus. The conclusion of a treaty is postulated by many scholars, including Ziegler 1964a, 24–28; Keaveney 1981, 199–204, but also note the objections in Liebmann-Frankfort 1969, 240–242. Furthermore, the meaning of the entente remains controversial. Dobiás' 1931, 231–233 suggests that the king simply chose neutrality as one of the options set out by Lucullus’ envoys and therefore did not renege on any agreement; contra Keaveney 1981, 203f. 75 In particular, the rôle of the Roman emissary Sextilius, who was suspected of espionage (Cass. Dio 36.3.2f.), is unclear. Keaveney 1981, 201 surmises that he served as a military adviser “to help the Parthian war effort on Rome’s behalf”, but this probably goes too far. At any rate, Dio does not say that Sextilius actually was a spy, and the accusations against him may have been a convenient excuse for inaction once the king had decided to remain neutral. Cf. Keaveney 1981, 210; also Liebmann-Frankfort 1969, 239f.; contra Bulin 1983, 84, who blames the diplomatic failure on Lucullus and his officer. 76 Cf. Luc. 29.10 as well as 13.4; 37.6.

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economic transactions with friendly individuals and communities. As has been seen in the previous section, most notably in the case of the Gordyeni, the underlying connexions were by no means confined to the level of interstate relations, but also comprised a strong element of personal loyalty. In this respect, the ties established by Lucullus serve to illustrate the scope of a broader phenomenon which impacted greatly on the political clashes of the late Republic, namely the multiplicity of bonds and obligations between Roman aristocrats and their foreign friends. Recognising the significance of these pervasive connexions in terms of patronage, Badian and others have demonstrated that individual Romans eagerly and often successfully sought to exploit them as a source of personal power and prestige.77 While Badian’s main thesis on the development of foreign clientelae certainly remains problematic as far as the patrocinium of the Roman state is concerned, his argument has also been criticised for applying the language of the patron-client relationship rather too loosely to describe political following and dependence.78 However, it may actually be quite misleading to concentrate exclusively on the terms patronus and cliens; for the workings of patronage need to be considered in their socio-cultural context as what Richard Saller has defined as “an exchange relationship between men of unequal social status”.79 Beyond this, Erich Gruen has contested the proposition that the Romans imposed their concepts of amicitia and clientela on the outside world, suggesting that they rather became involved in patterns of friendship and patronage that predominantly reflected Greek ideas.80 Undoubtedly, this is an important objection to Badian’s reconstruction, yet it must not be overlooked that the Hellenistic system of benefactions and obligations, too, was in turn transformed by the influence of Roman institutions, as can be seen, for instance, in the adoption of the term pavtrwn, which came to be used along with well-established expressions such as eujergevth" and swthvr.81 Accordingly, Jean-Louis Ferrary has convincingly argued that the practice of patronage in the East was shaped both by the Greek and by the Roman tradition.82 77 Cf. Badian 1958, 154–290; also Harmand 1957, 117–145; Braund 1989. Further note the fundamental study by Gelzer 1912/83, 70–83 = 1962, 89–102. 78 Cf. Bleicken 1964, esp. 180f. and 185, whose objections reflect a more widespread concern about blurring the meaning of the Roman institution of clientela, as expressed, e.g., by Brunt 1988d; Eilers 2002, 1–18. Also note Burton 2003, esp. 343–348, who tries to differentiate between the related concepts of clientela and amicitia, on which cf. further Hellegouarc’h 1963, 54–56 and passim. Reviews of the scholarly debate can be found in Cosçkun/ Heinen 2004, 48– 57; Cosçkun 2005, 1–9; also Bernhardt 1998, esp. 11–35 and 46–48 with a focus on Greek cities. 79 Cf. Saller 1982, esp. 7–22, quotation 8; idem 1989; similarly Wallace-Hadrill 1989. Also note Badian 1958, 11–13. 80 Cf. Gruen 1984, 54–95 and 158–200; also Wallace-Hadrill 1990b, esp. 154–166; contra Badian 1968, 931: “Roman aristocrats merely acquired a certain skill at formulating Roman ideas in Greek language”. 81 Cf. the catalogues in Canali De Rossi 2001, 129–195; Eilers 2002, 191–268. On the specific meaning of the term pavtrwn see above at n. 30. 82 Cf. Ferrary 1988, 117–132; idem 1997, 113–119; also Rich 1989, 121–123.

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Whatever the origins of this framework, it is clear that Roman aristocrats strove to acquire foreign clientelae as a means of boosting their political influence, social prestige, and economic assets. While the standing of leading nobles could be enhanced by the number, status, and wealth of their respective amici, the commitment as well as the position of these friends depended in no small measure on their patrons’ continuing ability to further their interests – a point that shall be illustrated in the final section of this chapter. What is more, these connexions gained in significance towards the end of the Republic as the distinction between the state and its foremost representatives became increasingly difficult to draw. Hence the prominence of the personal element in Lucullus’ dealings with his friends both reflects and foreshadows the development of Roman foreign policy in the mid-first century in so far as it came to be dominated by powerful generals acting ever more independently and creating ever more extensive networks of amici.83 Before moving on to the fate of Lucullus’ friends after the transfer of the Mithridatic command to Pompey, a particular feature that is common to the two generals’ public self-image merits attention, namely their association with Alexander the Great. As has been noted in chapter 3, the well-known piscinarius was eventually derided as the “Roman Xerxes” in an anecdote that directly contrasted him with Pompey the Great, whose very name calls to mind the intimacy of his connexion with the conqueror of the Persian Empire.84 But beyond Pompey, imitatio Alexandri was a more widespread phenomenon among late Republican condottieri who thus tried to advertise their power, ambition, and success, or more specifically their activities as founders and generals traversing the oikoumene, as well as their clemency and closeness to the gods. At the same time, they had to be careful to avoid the more negative connotations of the ambivalent figure of Alexander as a cruel and capricious tyrant.85 Against this background, it is only natural that Lucullus was among those emulating the Macedonian king, as is made explicit by Appian in his account of the benefactions received by the inhabitants of Amisus, on whom the proconsul is said to have conferred liberty “out of ambition (filotimouvmeno") that he, too, after Alexander, might show favour to the Attic race” (Mithr. 83.374).86 Apart from this direct reference, Luis Ballesteros Pastor has pointed out that many of Lucullus’ exploits on the territory of the former Achaemenid Empire were probably meant to evoke the memory of the fourth-century conqueror.87 Especially 83 Cf., e.g., the observations in Liebmann-Frankfort 1969, 255 and passim on the personal dimension of Lucullus’ and Pompey’s policies in the East. On the other hand, their approaches are contrasted by Frank 1914, 307–325 and some of works cited below, n. 111. 84 See chapter 3 at nn. 50 and 65ff. 85 The secondary literature tends to concentrate on Pompey, Caesar, Mark Antony, and Augustus. Cf., e.g., Heuß 1955, 79–84; Michel 1967; Weippert 1972, but also note Tisé 2002 on Flamininus and Scipio Africanus Maior, with the latter’s imitatio presumably reflecting a later tradition. For a review of modern scholarship cf. ibid., 13–19. On the polyvalence of Alexander as a model for Roman generals and Emperors cf. Spencer 2002; also Ceausçescu 1974. 86 See also chapter 2 at n. 88. 87 Cf. Ballesteros Pastor 1998.

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notable examples are the noble treatment of Mithridates’ relatives and the victory over the Pontic king at the river Aesepus, which Plutarch reports to have been won at the Granicus, where Alexander had beaten Darius’ generals after crossing into Asia.88 According to Filippo Coarelli, the Roman commander can further be identified together with his officer Murena in an equestrian group at Lanuvium which the Italian scholar suggests to have been modelled on Lysippus’ statues of Alexander and his companions at the Granicus.89 Whether this daring hypothesis be correct or not, it is evident that Lucullus’ association with the Macedonian monarch must be read as an additional indication of the scale of his personal ambition.

The Shadow of Pompey Having conducted the war against Mithridates and Tigranes for several years, Lucullus was successively replaced as governor of Asia and Cilicia and finally, in 67, as supreme commander.90 However, it was only upon the passing of the lex Manilia and the appointment of Pompey in the following year that the recalled general finally lost his influence on military operations in the East. Despite the presence of the new commander, Lucullus at first continued to issue edicts together with the ten commissioners who had been despatched by the Senate to set up Pontus as a Roman province.91 Yet Pompey responded by sending out counter-edicts to annul his predecessor’s fresh ordinances, and disregarded his earlier decisions as he sought to establish his own ties with foreign amici. According to Plutarch, the double triumphator thus “sent out edicts in all directions calling upon the soldiers to join him, and summoned the subject dynasts and kings into his presence. Moreover, as he traversed the country, he left nothing undisturbed that Lucullus had done, but remitted punishments in many cases, and took away rewards (dwreav"), and did everything, in a word, with an eager desire (filonikw`n) to show the admirers of that general that he was wholly without power” (Pomp. 31.1f.). As has been pointed out in chapter 4, the biographer naturally focuses on the two Roman protagonists of this struggle, highlighting their dramatic encounter in Galatia and citing some of their mutual recriminations regarding the magnitude 88 Humanity towards the royal family: Plut. Luc. 18, with the discussion in chapter 2 at n. 60; Granicus/ Aesepus: Plut. Luc. 11.8 as well as App. Mithr. 76.329; Memnon, F 28.4. Both rivers are mentioned in Flor. 1.40.17. 89 Cf. Coarelli 1981, 250–261 = 1996, 407–417; idem 1987, 155–161; also Gualandi 1980, 92–96. Lucullus’ presence in the group is questioned by Wiseman 1989, 279; also Keaveney 1992, 136, and esp. Hillard 1987, 43–47, on whose view concerning the relationship between Lucullus and Murena see chapter 4, n. 129. 90 Cf. Cass. Dio 36.2.2; 36.14.4; Plut. Luc. 33.6; 35.4; Cic. Manil. 5; 26; Sall. hist. frg. 5.13 Maur. = 5.11 McGush.; Eutr. 6.9.3. Against the implausible suggestion that Pompey schemed to effect Lucullus’ recall see chapter 4 at nn. 57f. 91 Cf. Plut. Luc. 36.1; Pomp. 31.9. According to Cic. Att. 13.6.4 = 310.4 Sh.B., the commission was staffed with the proconsul’s necessarii.

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of their respective achievements.92 Beyond the clash of the two imperatores, however, the affair had much wider repercussions throughout Asia Minor and the Near East, with some of Lucullus’ foreign friends being effectively hit as hard as the deposed general himself. Significantly, the relevant measures were by no means confined to the treatment of kings and dynasts, but affected the level of local élites as well. This emerges most clearly from a passage in Strabo’s Geography (12.3.33) in which the Pontic author offers some personal insights into the events surrounding the activities of the two commanders in his home region. Recalling the fate of his grandfather, who had at the time been a high-ranking figure in the Mithridatic administration, he records: “Seeing that the cause of the king was going badly in the war with Lucullus, and at the same time being alienated from him out of wrath at his recently having put to death his cousin Tibius and Tibius’ son Theophilus, he set out to avenge both them and himself. After taking pledges (pivstei") from Lucullus, he caused fifteen garrisons to revolt to him; and although great promises (ejpaggelivai) were made in return for these services, yet, when Pompey, who succeeded Lucullus in the conduct of the war, went over, he took for enemies (ejcqrouv") all who had in any way favoured (carisamevnou") Lucullus, because of the hatred (ajpevcqeian) which had arisen between the latter and himself; and when he finished the war and returned home, he won so completely that the Senate would not ratify those honours (timav") which Lucullus had promised to certain of the people of Pontus, for, he said, it was unjust, when one man had brought the war to a successful issue, that the prizes (brabei`a) and the distribution of the rewards (ajristeivwn) should be placed in the hands of another man”.93 Although this passage, together with the more general statements in Plutarch, suggests that Pompey completely reversed Lucullus’ policies, it would be unwarranted to assume that the new commander’s measures were predominantly or exclusively driven by considerations related to his predecessor. After all, the extant evidence only gives few glimpses of particular decisions to the detriment of Lucullus’ friends, while in some cases Pompey apparently left the situation unaltered, and continued to back people like Deiotarus who had already been associated with his political rival.94 Among the more prominent victims of Pompey’s policies, the last Seleucid, Antiochus XIII, merits closer attention. As indicated above, the king had been recognised by Lucullus as ruler of Syria, but kept struggling with fierce opposition from local chieftains. At some point, Antiochus was temporarily replaced by his rival, Philip II, who apparently received the backing of Lucullus’ successor as governor of Cilicia, Q. Marcius Rex.95 When Pompey passed by, though, Asiati92

See chapter 4 at nn. 61ff. On Strabo’s family background and his ancestors’ relations with Rome cf. Engels 1999, 17–21; Dueck 2000, 5–7; also Ballesteros Pastor 1998a, 56f. 94 Cf. Cic. Deiot. 13; Phil. 11.34; Strab. 12.3.13; App. Mithr. 114.560; Eutr. 6.14.1. Further note Jones 1971a, 256–260 on the situation in (northern) Syria: “In general Pompey seems thus to have preserved the status quo unaltered” (p. 260). Cf. also Grainger 1991, 159–162. 95 On Philip’s reign cf. Diod. 40.1a–b; also Eus. chron., p. 261 Schoene (= Porphyry of 93

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cus seems to have been in power once again, yet the new commander refused his support to the Seleucid, and claimed the area for direct rule by Rome.96 Given that Antiochus’ had proved unable to exercise effective authority within his kingdom, it is unclear, however, to what extent Pompey’s decision was influenced by his dislike for the Seleucid’s connexion with Lucullus; for he may simply have concluded that Asiaticus was an obstacle to the restoration of stability in the region.97 While Antiochus was openly denied his throne, a more subtle form of pressure may have been brought to bear in the case of Ariobarzanes I of Cappadocia. As Attilio Mastrocinque has suggested, it is not unlikely that the abdication of the king, who had closely co-operated with Lucullus, in favour of his homonymous son was to some extent prompted by the desire to improve relations between the Cappadocian dynasty and the new Roman commander.98 Significantly, Pompey attended the succession ceremony in person and, according to Valerius Maximus (5.7, ext. 2), intervened with his own auctoritas to make the younger Ariobarzanes assume his new position, thus demonstrating his influence over the newly invested ruler.99 Although Pompey’s motives cannot be determined with certainty, it is worth pointing out that both Antiochus and the elder Ariobarzanes had not only enjoyed the support of Lucullus, but had long before been officially recognised as friends and allies of the Roman people.100 Beyond this, the new commander’s disregard for senatorial decisions also manifests itself in his obstruction of the work of the aforementioned commissioners who had been assigned the task of managing the provincial organisation of Pontus.101 Hence it is difficult to avoid the conclusion Tyre, FGrH 260, F 32.27). He is called Philorhomaios in MAMA III 62. Marcius may have visited Antioch and rebuilt a palace and a hippodrome there. Cf. Downey 1937; idem 1951, 152– 158, on the basis of Ioh. Malalas 9.21. Further note Cass. Dio 36.17.3 on Clodius’ activities in the same city. 96 Cf. Iust. 40.2.3–5; App. Syr. 49.250; Mithr. 106.499f.; Cass. Dio 37.7a; Plut. Pomp. 39.3; also Eus. chron., p. 261 Schoene (= Porphyry, F 32.27); further the garbled account in Ioh. Malalas 8.31; 8.33, and Downey 1951, esp. 159–163; Rizzo 1963, 66–70; Koehler 1978, 75–78. Grainger 1990, 193f. makes the interesting, if somewhat speculative, suggestion that Antiochus may have been put forward by various competitors for power in an attempt to keep the Romans out of Syria. 97 On Pompey’s possible motives cf. the summarising discussions in Will 1982, 505f. and 508–511; Sartre 2003, 442–444. 98 Cf. Mastrocinque 1999, 102, though he misleadingly counts Ariobarzanes among the “clienti stranieri della fazione sillana”, as if the Cappadocian ruler were to be connected with a political bloc rather than with individual representatives of Rome’s authority in the East; further Hoben 1969, 151–153; Sullivan 1980, 1135–1137; idem 1990, 175. 99 Cf. further App. Mithr. 105.496. 100 For Antiochus’ status cf. Cic. Verr. 2.4.67f. According to the same speech, the Seleucid was denied access to the Senate during his stay at Rome in the mid-seventies, but Cicero is at pains to point out that the king’s mission was unrelated to his Syrian claims (Verr. 2.4.61). Cf. Canali De Rossi 1997, 583f. Ariobarzanes had been a staunch ally of Rome ever since his accession, and was apparently the first monarch to adopt the epithet of Philorhomaios. Cf. Hoben 1969, 145–150; Sullivan 1980, 1129–1135; idem 1990, 57f. with references. 101 Cf. Broughton 1946, 40–43.

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that Pompey was generally prepared to abandon earlier commitments in order to create new bonds of exclusive personal loyalty. In some ways, then, he exercised patronage more radically than his predecessor; for his policy of invalidating Lucullus’ measures evidently formed part of a more comprehensive strategy designed to establish himself as the pre-eminent champion of Rome’s amici in the East.102 As far as cities are concerned, Lucullus’ position may have been more difficult to undermine than in the case of individual rulers. However, some evidence from the south-eastern part of Asia Minor indicates that Pompey succeeded, at least locally, in doing so. As pointed out above, Lucullus was highly regarded in this area owing to the contacts established during his naval mission and due to his benefactions in favour of those who had been deported to Tigranocerta. Still, the inhabitants indebted to him only constituted a certain segment of the population, and their influence within the civic communities was presumably reduced as a result of the fresh influx of people that occurred shortly thereafter when Pompey settled the vanquished pirates and strove to further the recovery of the region.103 Consequently, the two generals were at least in part revered in the same cities, including Soli as well as Mazaca,104 but as Pompey’s presence and wide-ranging powers enabled him to perform his rôle as patron more effectively, his influence quickly came to surpass Lucullus’. Two honorary inscriptions from Side and Soli, which was renamed Pompeiopolis, confirm the new commander’s standing in the area and explicitly refer to him as pavtrwn.105 As Ruprecht Ziegler has argued, moreover, the superiority of his authority is reflected in the adoption of Pompeian eras by Soli and various other municipalities in the vicinity.106 Far from being confined to political decisions in Asia Minor, the new commander’s assault on his predecessor’s position extended to the realm of Roman domestic politics as well. While Pompey was campaigning in the East, Lucullus struggled for three years to overcome his opponents’ adamant resistance against his being awarded a triumph.107 According to Plutarch, it was to gratify Pompey (eij" th;n Pomphivou cavrin) that the tribune C. Memmius brought charges against 102 Cf. Seager 1979, 46 = 2002, 54: Pompey “was determined from the first that the organisation of Roman rule in the East was to be his work alone, and he was equally bent on denying Lucullus all opportunity for patronage”; pace Wirth 1983, esp. 12–14, who misrepresents Pompey’s measures as responding exclusively to the imperatives of military strategy. 103 Cf. Strab. 14.3.3; 14.5.8; App. Mithr. 96.444; 115.562; Plut. Pomp. 28.6; Cass. Dio 36.37.6; Mela 1.71, and Pulci Doria Breglia 1972, 349–387; Dreizehnter 1975, 235–244; Siewert 1995, 230–233; also Martina 1982. 104 Both cities are specifically connected with the deportations organised by Tigranes. Cf. Strab. 12.2.9; Plut. Pomp. 28.6; Cass. Dio 36.37.6. On Pompey’s measures cf. the sources cited in the previous note. Cf. Ziegler 1993, 214–219 for further discussion. 105 Inscriptions of Side 101: pavtrwn[a]; IGRom III 869 (Soli/ Pompeiopolis): ktivsthn kai; pavtrwna. 106 Cf. Ziegler 1993 with references, but also note Nicols 1992, 99–108, who rejects Pompeian eras for a number of Cilician cities and generally downplays their significance in terms of patronage. 107 See chapter 4 at nn. 46 and 68.

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the long-time commander’s conduct of the war (Cat. Min. 29.5), apparently in an attempt to minimise public recognition for his share in subduing Mithridates. Beyond this, Pompey’s partisans also attacked Lucullus by challenging the citizenship of his client Archias in court.108 The poet was of course a particularly attractive target since his laudatory poem on Lucullus’ exploits in the war against the Pontic king at least indirectly served to diminish Pompey’s achievements as set out in the account produced by Theophanes. Although Archias eventually retained his status, the incident illustrates the fact that Lucullus’ friends were everywhere forced on the defensive as their patron’s authority dwindled in the wake of his recall from the East. Under these circumstances, there was nothing to stop Pompey from promoting his own amici at the expense of his predecessor’s. Nevertheless, Lucullus kept trying to salvage his position not only by issuing edicts as long as he remained in Asia Minor, but also many years later by fiercely opposing the ratification of his successor’s acta in the Senate.109 This struggle evidently had much wider ramifications, and there were certainly ample grounds for contesting Pompey’s measures on account of their implications for the evolution of senatorial government. However, at the personal level, too, the reversion of Lucullus’ decisions involved far more than mere rancour or a lack of courtesy and fairness.110 Rather the prestige and political influence of the two generals were at stake in their year-long struggle over the glory of having conquered Mithridates and over the power to dispense patronage in the East. In the end, of course, Pompey not only got his way on the question of the acta, but also proved successful in claiming the lion’s share of the credit for Rome’s victory in the Third Mithridatic War. This outcome is reflected in the tendency of modern studies to contrast the supposedly inept policies pursued by Lucullus with the more lasting order created by his celebrated successor.111 While there is no doubt that the position attained by the former remained inferior to that assumed by the latter, this view fails to appreciate both the preliminary character of Lucullus’ measures and the implications of Pompey’s efforts to diminish his predecessor’s influence in order to extend his own power base. 108

On the political significance of the trial cf. Taylor 1952; Gruen 1974, 267f.; Haley 1983; pace Van Ooteghem 1959, 171f. Further note Damon 1997, 267–276, who argues that Lucullus deliberately absented himself from the legal proceedings. Certainly, it was part of Cicero’s rhetorical strategy in the Pro Archia to avoid highlighting the conflict between the two generals. Hence it is not necessary to transfer the speech to the time of Lucullus’ infirmity prior to his death, as suggested by Bellemore 2002. 109 See chapter 4 at n. 71 with references. 110 Thus, e.g., Cobban 1935, 130: “There was no need to assert his [scil. Pompey’s] supremacy so bluntly; but Pompey was always conspicuous for his lack of tact. His determination to reverse all his predecessor’s decisions was not only petty but manifestly unfair to the people concerned”. 111 Cf., e.g., Wirth 1983, 5–11; Wylie 1990, 447f.; Baltrusch 2002, 255. See also chapter 7 at nn. 30f. On the other hand, note the exaggerated praise for Lucullus’ “grand design” in McDougall 1991, 66–71, as well as the reservations expressed by Freeman 1994 regarding the complexity of Pompey’s settlement, and by Nicols 1992, esp. 162–196 concerning the significance of the latter’s foreign clientelae.

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The considerable impact of these efforts notwithstanding, the foregoing analysis has assembled substantial evidence for an extensive web of connexions between Lucullus and his foreign friends. To be sure, the proconsul’s desire to forge personal ties may often have been no more than a response to the exigencies of the war; for as long as the general remained in command, friendship with him was almost inseparable from friendship with the Romans. However, the two categories were never identical: on the one hand, all of Lucullus’ decisions were subject to the approval of the Senate and, pending ratification, lacked any binding force on the Roman state, while on the other, personal loyalties persisted after the proconsul’s recall in spite of becoming less effective and in many cases secondary to others. The very fact that Pompey deliberately favoured people other than those supported by his predecessor clearly indicates that the latter’s connexions remained significant enough to make the new commander consider them prejudicial to his own ties. In this context, it is remarkable that in some places the gratitude won by Lucullus apparently outlived the benefactor by centuries. Considering the prolonged dispute between the two generals over the ratification of their respective acta, it is at any rate manifest that the long-time commander had acquired great power and prestige in the course of his campaigns. Like in the field of Roman domestic politics, Lucullus thus emerges as an ambitious and influential noble striving to enhance his standing within a highly competitive system.

7. CONCLUSION “The confused compilations upon which the modern historian has to work, sometimes mutually contradictory, abounding in details which are neither instructive nor picturesque, deficient in essential information, do not enable us to understand completely the causes either of Lucullus’s success or of his failure.”1 This unusually careful judgement was expressed by Thomas Rice Holmes many decades ago. As has been seen in the preceding chapters, it contains more than a modicum of truth, and it should serve as a salutary warning against merely reproducing the emphases and evaluations of the ancient sources with a view to making generalisations that either exalt or disparage the consul of 74 and his standing as a historical figure. However, this cannot be the whole story. Not surprisingly, Holmes himself did not hesitate to sing the praises of Lucullus the tactician while at the same time identifying the proconsul’s temperament, cupidity, and lack of magnetism as the principal determinants of his ultimate failure as a military commander. Nor can the present enquiry stop at this point. After all, the goal of fostering a clearer understanding of the major components of Lucullus’ public image and of the corresponding themes in Plutarch’s Life has been cited in justification of an analytical structure that has forced the reader to endure a presentation abounding in repetitions and bypassing both the arrangement of its central source and the chronological order of events.

Plutarch’s Reading of Lucullus’ Character Concluding his study of the theme of Hellenism in the Life of Lucullus, Simon Swain has affirmed that “Plutarch avoids exploring the more complicated personality of Lucullus”.2 According to the British classicist, the biographer’s gratitude to the benefactor of his native Chaeronea made him underplay his hero’s faults and produce an “unashamedly favourable presentation of Lucullus in the face of some quite contrary evidence”.3 Obviously, this judgement is at variance with the findings of the present investigation, yet it should not simply be dismissed as a flight of fancy; for it actually builds on the important insight that Plutarch chose to emphasise Lucullus’ commitment to Greek culture and his policy of philhellenic benefaction as a way of bringing out his positive qualities. Moreover, Swain is not alone in his view of the biographer’s bias in favour of his subject.4 1

Holmes 1923, 200. Swain 1992, 316. 3 Swain 1992a, 183. Cf. also the references cited in chapter 2, n. 27. 4 Cf. Reinach 1895, 451; Asdourian 1911, 173–175; Van Ooteghem 1959, 103 and passim; 2

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Still, this interpretation is not only exaggerated but also distinctly one-sided. Apart from decontextualising Plutarch’s narrative from its sources, Swain’s analysis downplays or ignores the presence of negative elements in the biographer’s portrait, including censorious statements that associate the protagonist with the Barbarian world and highlight his opposition to the doctrines of Plato and the Academy. In the spheres of political and military relations, too, the writer from Chaeronea pays much attention to Lucullus’ shortcomings as he severely criticises his style of leadership and inability to court the plh`qo". While there is no doubt that Plutarch is well-disposed towards the benefactor of his home town, it is clear that the negative features of the protagonist’s character serve in no small measure to counterbalance the positive ones.5 Consequently, one might be tempted to say that the biographer more or less abides by the standards set out in the proem to the Lives of Cimon and Lucullus, namely respecting the truth and emphasising the Roman statesman’s virtues without omitting his defects.6 This certainly sounds plausible, yet Plutarch’s guidelines are evidently far from clear-cut, and shortly it shall be argued that their terms are in fact constantly negotiated in the course of the narrative.7 At the same time, the Lucullus corresponds to a broader pattern that is characteristic of the whole series of the Parallel Lives; for Plutarch’s heroes are generally depicted as exhibiting both positive and negative traits, though usually with a certain preponderance of the former over the latter.8 To some extent, this surely reflects a benevolent desire to do justice to the figures concerned, but above all it should be viewed as part of the biographer’s pedagogic agenda, which makes him explore moral issues with a view to their universal relevance to himself and to his audience.9 It is against this background that Swain’s point about the supposed lack of analytical depth in Plutarch’s portrait of Lucullus needs to be taken up. As has been seen at various stages of the present enquiry, the biographer’s narrative is Manandian 1963, 81 and passim; Carcopino 1968, 77; Ballesteros Pastor 1996, 239 and 247; idem 1999, 331f.; also, with qualifications, Bulin 1983, 90, and the references cited in chapter 3, n. 26; further Kaesser 2004, 366f. 5 Thus also Flacelière/ Chambry 1972, 3f. and 46–49; Scardigli 1979, 104f.; eadem 1989, 278f.; Piccirilli 1990, xvi–xx and passim; Lavery 1994; Schütz 1994, 6038; Wylie 1994, 109; Tröster 2005. 6 See chapter 1 at nn. 50ff. Also note García Valdés 1983, 320, whose judgement is based on an analysis of the Cimon: “No es tanto una limitación de la verdad ... como una matización en el modo de presentarla”. 7 Again, García Valdés 1983, 324 makes an interesting point: “en la Vida de Cimón se deja ver una lucha constante del autor entre objetividad y subjetividad”. 8 Note that even Demetrius and Antony, who are explicitly introduced as negative examples (Demetr. 1), display quite a few positive qualities, just as the protagonists in the other Lives are not presented as being without defects. Cf. the perceptive observations in Duff 1999, 45–49 and 53–65, who rightly rejects attempts at classifying particular Lives or pairs of Lives as either positive or negative; pace Nikolaidis 2005, 312–315. On the proem to the Demetrius – Antonius cf. also Duff 2004, and the references cited in chapter 1, n. 24. Further note Stadter 2000, 500– 506. 9 See also chapter 3 at n. 44 on equality of treatment in the synkriseis.

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often shaped by stereotypes and topoi which actually obstruct a proper understanding of the historical situation and of the protagonist’s behaviour. Nevertheless, it should not be overlooked that Plutarch’s framing of questions can also be complex and challenging in a manner that defies straightforward answers. Opinion may be divided on whether or to what degree this applies to his discussion of the consular’s decision to retire with its focus on Marius’ filotimiva and Lucullus’ trufhv and with the subsequent change of emphasis in the more critical synkrisis (Luc. 38.2–5; 44). More importantly, it is from the very outset that the Life as a whole raises complicated issues concerning the author’s relation to his subject, the representation of truth, and the coexistence of good and bad traits in human nature. Accordingly, it is hardly coincidence that the question of Plutarch’s overall judgement in the Lucullus is being asked so persistently by modern scholars, with no definitive answer being in sight. There can be little doubt, then, that the biographer deliberately constructed the proem and the whole pair in a way that invites different readings and gives food for thought. Up to this point, the discussion has mainly been focused on the analysis of Plutarch’s specific objectives and compositional techniques as determinants of his biographical portrait. This is a very important subject indeed, and one may justly contend that the writer from Chaeronea actually reveals as much about himself as about the historical figure whose character he seeks to depict and evaluate.10 However, his presentation should not be considered and in fact cannot properly be understood without reference to his source material and the way it influenced his choices and emphases.11 First of all, it has to be noted that Plutarch builds on good sources in the sense that they reflect, to a large extent, the content of public debates and propaganda of Lucullus’ own lifetime. Thus it has been argued that philhellenism can be identified as a crucial element in the Republican statesman’s self-image and political frame of reference, while the charge of extravagance is essentially derived from the contemporary counter-image propagated by his opponents, who sought to present him as a self-indulgent bon vivant unfit to act in the interests of the res publica. In the biographer’s narrative, these features have more or less been deprived of their original context, yet vestiges like the presence of Pompey in many of the anecdotes on Lucullus’ trufhv allow to reconstruct, at least in outline, their political function. To be sure, this should not be misconstrued as a criticism of Plutarch, who generally does not ignore or disregard the historical tradition but rather reelaborates its elements into biographical themes in accordance with his moral programme. Still, it would be misleading to suppose that he encountered accurate and complete information in his sources before going on to remodel and rear10 Cf., with a slightly different emphasis, Frazier 1996, 81: “Plutarque révèle sans doute beaucoup plus de lui-même que de l’être historique réel dont il prétend découvrir la vérité”. 11 Cf. also the conclusions in Tröster 2004, 498f. Further note Hillard 1987, 3899, who suggests that Plutarch was favourably disposed towards Lucullus but “found to his embarrassment much information to tell against the Roman” (Hillard’s emphasis).

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range this material to suit his own agenda. In fact, it is quite implausible to assume that Plutarch fully appreciated the propaganda value of Lucullus’ efforts to contrast his own philhellenism with the supposedly anti-Hellenic policies attributed to Tigranes, or that he understood Pompey’s attempt to denigrate his adversary as an idle hedonist defying the imperatives of mos maiorum. Consequently, the biographer’s sources were not only close to the events described and indicative of the debates surrounding them, but also strongly biased in favour or against the protagonist. In the case of Archias in particular, this partiality must have been obvious, yet it is not clear and perhaps not even likely that Plutarch used the poet’s work directly, and if he did, it was still only one source among others.12 Most of his material presumably reflected the original bias in a much less transparent way – an assumption that is corroborated by the fact that the biographer’s judgements do not diverge too widely from those expressed by other authors whose works happen to be extant: Appian concerning Lucullus’ philhellenic benefactions, Cassius Dio regarding his inability to court the plh`qo", and scattered references in Varro, Pliny, and others in matters relating to his trufhv. Of course, none of these writers provides an equally elaborate and comprehensive picture of the consular’s character and career, but if Plutarch was prepared to re-elaborate and sometimes reinterpret information, this evidently does not mean that he commonly engaged in extensive fabrication.13 As a result, the biographer’s portrait of Lucullus must be suspected to be at least as much distorted by his sources as by his own compositional adaptation. Still, no uniform pattern should be postulated for the methods of an author who has been seen to be, in the words of Christopher Pelling, “a curiously varied writer”.14 Again, it must be stressed that Plutarch’s oscillation between different procedures and genres is not only a reflexion of his complex and changing agenda but also, to some extent at least, a matter related to the sources at his disposal. In the Lucullus, he evidently follows a well-informed and reliable guide in his detailed account of the Third Mithridatic War, almost certainly Sallust or an author who largely echoes his judgements and emphases. By contrast, the biographer obviously lacked essential information regarding the protagonist’s supposed retirement and his political rôle in general. As Plutarch was effectively forced to fill some of the gaps left by his lacunose sources, he naturally did so in a way that corresponds to his view of Republican politics as a constant struggle between the Senate on the one hand and the people on the other. This is not to suggest that he would not have chosen to accentuate the boulhv – dh`mo" divide provided that his sources had equipped him with a fuller picture of political events at Rome down to the consular’s death. However, as his material was plainly insufficient, Plutarch actually did not have much of a choice but to impose a particularly crude version of his schematic vision on the facts, or rather on the gaps. Accordingly, the biographer’s interpretation of Lucullus’ rôle in 12 For Plutarch’s awareness, in principle, of distorting elements in his sources cf. esp. Per. 13.16 with the remarks in chapter 1 at n. 25. 13 See chapter 1 at n. 36, for similar conclusions drawn by Pelling and others. 14 See chapter 1 at n. 35.

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Roman politics is not only based on a very limited number of scattered episodes, but must also be concluded to be more fundamentally and more exclusively affected by the writer’s own interests and preconceptions than the narrative of the proconsul’s military and diplomatic activities. Plutarch’s view of his hero’s career as a politician, which has been set out in chapter 4, is epitomised in a general statement on Cimon and Lucullus that concludes the discussion of their leadership qualities in the synkrisis: “For aristocratic natures (ajristokratikai; fuvsei") are little in accord with the multitude (toi`" polloi`"), and seldom please it (pro;" hJdonhvn), but by so often using force to rectify its aberrations, they vex it, just as physicians’ bandages vex, although they bring the dislocated members into their natural position” (Luc. 45.7).15 Apart from reiterating the judgement expressed in the preceding narrative, this comment draws attention to the immediate relevance of Lucullus’ as well as Cimon’s experience to Plutarch’s aristocratic audience. Whatever the contemporary resonance to the biographer’s message may have been like, there is no doubt that it exercised a strong influence on the perception of modern scholars, which shall be dealt with in the next and final section of this enquiry. While Plutarch has been seen not to describe Lucullus as invariably unpopular or unable to impress the public, there is no doubt that he purposefully chose to highlight his hero’s shortcomings as a leader and to elaborate his struggle with the plh`qo". As the discussion in chapter 4 has further shown, this emphasis is reinforced by a focus on various demagogues who prove more successful in communicating with the multitude, and in particular by the contrast between Lucullus and Pompey, who are depicted as embodying the antithetical techniques of aristocratic and popular politics. As far as Pompey is concerned, the material beyond Plutarch is of course incomparably richer than in the case of Lucullus. Unquestionably, the parallel sources confirm that the young general did, to a certain degree, rely on popular support in the seventies and especially in the sixties when he was invested with extraordinary powers to fight the pirates and Mithridates. However, few historians would consider Pompey a popularis at any point in his career without making lots of elaborate qualifications, and even fewer would regard him as a skilful manipulator of public opinion.16 To what extent, then, is Plutarch right about Lucullus? In the light of the analyses conducted in chapters 4 and 5, it is clear that the biographer’s concentration on the protagonist’s struggle with the plh`qo" scarcely warrants the conclusion that Lucullus generally failed to bridge a supposed gulf between himself and the multitude. Yet does this rule out that he was a typical aristocrat after all? And if he was one, what did it mean to be a typical aristocrat in the late Republic? 15

For Plutarch’s use of medical metaphors and their relevance to his political analysis cf. Fuhrmann 1964, 238–240; Saïd 2005, 22f.; also Larmour 2000, 275, further 271 on the passage quoted in the text, and the references cited below, n. 32. 16 In fact, Plutarch himself advances a rather different and more complex interpretation in the later Pompeius. See chapter 4 at n. 60. For a selection of modern estimates of Pompey cf. Christ 2004, 187–209; Heller 2006, 153–225.

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Lucullus and the Late Republic For the majority of modern scholars, there is little doubt that Lucullus should basically be considered a typical member of the Republican aristocracy. At least this is the impression one would get upon reading that he was “an aristocrat born and bred”, an “aristocrat from top to toe”, or “a fixture of the oligarchic establishment”.17 One of the problems attached to these judgements is the often tacit assumption that a typical aristocrat should conform to an ‘optimate’ paradigm of senatorial ‘conservatism’ which has been seen to be altogether incompatible with the workings of Roman politics in the late Republic. In spite of this fundamental defect, the image of Lucullus as a conservative noble remains the almost uncontested standard view, and has actually been elaborated in particularly crude terms in the fairly recent monograph by Günter Schütz.18 Notwithstanding their general acceptance of this overall interpretation, many scholars would further insist on a number of points that effectively serve to undermine this stereotypically one-dimensional reading of the consular’s career. Most notably, his luxurious lifestyle is commonly regarded as exceptional or even revolutionary, while his supposed retirement from public life, which Thomas Hillman has conclusively shown to be untenable, continues to be construed as evidence of his alleged lack of ambition.19 In the sphere of politics, too, the orthodox view is not free of contradictions; for although Lucullus is considered to have been a typical aristocrat, his outlook is not infrequently described as particularly conservative or reactionary with the implication that he belonged to a restricted group of diehard defenders of the Sullan constitution.20 What is more, some historians try to make sense of Lucullus’ career by suggesting that he was essentially an anachronism in the final years of the Republic inasmuch as his political ideas and style of leadership simply rendered him incapable of getting on under the unstable conditions of the mid-first century.21 This hypothesis does not necessarily imply that he was untypical since it is often – and not without reason – argued that the senatorial aristocracy as a whole 17 Cobban 1935, 100; Heuß 1976, 187: “Aristokrat vom Scheitel bis zur Sohle”; Epstein 1987, 84. For similar views cf. the references cited in chapter 4 at nn. 2 and 30f. 18 See chapter 1 at nn. 5ff. and chapter 4 at nn. 31ff., but also note chapter 4 at n. 133 for the dissent voiced by Ernst Badian. 19 Cf. the references cited in chapter 3, n. 75. 20 Cf. the references cited in chapter 4, n. 31. 21 Cf. esp. Gelzer 1926, 413: “Als Sullas vertrautester Freund blieb er dessen politischem System, der gesetzmäßig befestigten Senatsoligarchie, allzeit treu ergeben. Deren Beseitigung im J. 70 machte die Bahn frei für seinen Sturz, und er konnte sich unter den veränderten Verhältnissen nicht mehr aufrichten. Hätte er 100 Jahre früher gelebt, so wäre ihm eine solche Probe erspart geblieben und er hätte sich als eine Leuchte der Nobilität wohlverdienten Ruhmes erfreut”. A similar point is made by Harmand 1969, 68 regarding his record as a military leader: “Lucullus s’est perdu parce qu’il ne s’est pas plié à ces exigences de son temps, sans trouver en compensation la parade aux conditions sociales et économiques dont elles dérivaient”, but also note the objections in Cagniart 2007, 83f.: “Lucullus’ ultimate failure in keeping his army under control was not caused by his supposedly old-fashioned character” (p. 84).

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proved unable to deal with the political and socio-economic problems of the Gracchan and post-Gracchan period.22 Nevertheless, the view of Lucullus as an anachronism is highly problematic in so far as it implausibly decontextualises his career from its first-century background. Furthermore, it appears to focus rather too narrowly on the reasons for the consular’s ultimate failure while neglecting the factors that allowed him to become a most successful politician in the first place.23 Contrary to this interpretation, the present enquiry has sought to foster a deeper understanding of Lucullus’ career by relating his behaviour to the environment of late Republican Rome. Instead of looking for factional alignments or ideological programmes along the lines of the orthodox optimates – populares cleavage, it has depicted the consul of 74 as an ambitious politician and general who pursued his personal objectives of power and prestige by adopting a variety of techniques, including both coalition-building with fellow aristocrats and regular appeals to the multitude. In this endeavour, the need to influence public opinion has been seen to be a crucial factor: while philhellenic benefactions won him a sizeable following and served to impress the Greek population in the theatre of war, the display of competence, status, and wealth at Rome was designed to enhance his standing within the competitive system of Republican politics. On the other hand, Lucullus’ extravagance in private life was the object of adverse propaganda orchestrated by his opponents, who first charged him with protracting the war in the East out of greed and ambition and later censured his alleged neglect of public affairs at the time of his supposed retirement. To be sure, this picture is not only painted with a broad brush, but also depends heavily on the author’s position within current debates on the political culture of the Roman Republic. As fashions are bound to change, and as all true history, according to Benedetto Croce, is contemporary history,24 future readers may well find it odd to be offered an interpretation of Lucullus’ activities and aspirations that persistently stresses the importance of public opinion and interaction with the multitude. After all, the study is centred around a figure that is commonly considered to have wielded his influence on the floor and in the corridors of the Senate rather than before the eyes of the people gathered around the speaker’s platform. Still, it needs to be understood that the sources on Lucullus’ rôle in Roman politics were scarce at the time of Plutarch’s writing and are certainly even scarcer today. If the biographer found it necessary to fill many of the 22

See the brief remarks at the end of this chapter. Gelzer’s stress on the year 70 as a turning point (see above, n. 21) might be seen as the potential nucleus of an explanation accounting for both success and failure, yet this would be not only too schematic but also at variance with the current state of research on the development of Roman politics in this period. See chapter 4 at n. 36, but also note Will 1999, 167: Lucullus’ “Niedergang nach 70 hängt mit dem des Sullanischen Systems zusammen”; further Wylie as quoted below, n. 30. 24 Cf. Croce 1927, 4: “anche questa storia già formata, che si dice o si vorrebbe dire ‘storia non contemporanea’ o ‘passata’, se è davvero storia, se cioè ha un senso e non suona come discorso a vuoto, è contemporanea”, as epitomised in the famous dictum, “ogni vera storia è storia contemporanea” (ibid.). 23

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gaps in the evidence, then this will apply a fortiori to the work of modern scholars. In the past, historians used to do this, often unconsciously, by following and expanding on Plutarch’s suggestions, thus constructing a politician whose behaviour was in many ways incompatible with his contemporary environment. By contrast, the present enquiry has insistently asked what kind of material the biographer is likely to have used, and what he did to adapt it to his own purpose. As a result, many exaggerations and distortions have been exposed and in some cases related to their original context in late Republican discourse or in Plutarch’s thought. In the author’s view, the conclusion can only be to offer alternative readings that supplement the meagre material pertaining to Lucullus by looking at the general parameters of public life in the final years of the Republic. Of course, this approach entails serious weaknesses. Above all, the reconstruction of the consular’s environment may be flawed, and presumably disagreement about the workings of first-century politics will make many a reader object to the interpretation advanced in this study. Beyond this, extensive reliance on contextual considerations tends to minimise the individual aspects of Lucullus’ career, thus effectively merging him into a mass of unrecognisable aristocrats who all share the same qualities and objectives.25 Nevertheless, it appears that the advantages of drawing on general assumptions far outweigh the attendant problems, the more so as a mere rehearsal of Plutarch’s reconstruction has been seen to involve quite unpalatable presuppositions. Notwithstanding its emphasis on the protagonist’s philhellenism and strategic acumen, the biographer’s account – and hence also the modern standard view – owes much to the interpretation propounded by Lucullus’ opponents, who evidently sought to represent him as essentially incompetent and unappealing. Still, it is not simply an argument from plausibility to posit that the consul of 74 was an ambitious, influential, and on the whole rather successful politician. For despite his focus on the protagonist’s struggle with the plh`qo", Plutarch occasionally indicates that his hero actually enjoyed some degree of popularity in the capital and was not incapable of impressing not only the Greek public but also an audience of Roman voters or soldiers in the attempt to muster support for his personal objectives. Consequently, the proposition that Lucullus’ political and oratorical success was often much greater than commonly assumed is not so much an exercise in creative rewriting as it is the product of a restructuring and re-emphasising of the distorted material provided by the sources. What is more, Plutarch’s purpose and genre have been seen to shape his way of accentuating certain traits in order to produce a distinctive character portrait. Evidently, this is one of the reasons for his appeal to both ancient and modern readers, yet it makes it all the more necessary to reconstruct the historical background against which his heroes’ actions ought to be interpreted. Considering the environment of late Republican Rome, there can in fact be little doubt that Lucullus’ philhellenism and trufhv, his involvement in struggles with the crowd 25 The development of this point has greatly benefited from suggestions by Christopher Pelling.

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and political rivals, and his ambitious quest for status, wealth, and influence do not make him as much of an exceptional figure as the biographer’s narrative would lead one to believe. As has been noted in the introduction to this enquiry, Günter Schütz views him as embodying the type of the late Republican noble par excellence. In the last analysis, this may actually not fall too wide of the mark – albeit not in the sense of an ‘optimate’ pattern of behaviour, as suggested by the German historian, but in the context of a redefinition of the Republican aristocrat as a versatile politician whose interaction with his peers and with the public is basically geared to the imperatives of personal advancement and the accumulation of power and prestige. A rather different conclusion regarding the determinants of the consular’s career has been drawn by Arthur Keaveney, who asserts that “although Lucullus plainly did not lack political ambition we do not detect in him that limitless thirst for power and glory which characterizes the likes of Caesar and Pompey”.26 One may wonder about who could have been “the likes of Caesar and Pompey” among Lucullus’ contemporaries and about whether a comparative lack of success should be equated with lack of ambition, yet the Irish scholar continues along these lines by affirming that “although we laud certain of his acts as statesmanlike, we would deny him the title of ‘statesman’”.27 This estimate is certainly peculiar given that Keaveney generally tries, with varying degrees of success, to adopt a sympathetic view of his subject, but this is not to score an easy point by arguing that Lucullus was actually much greater a politician than the above-quoted verdict would suggest. Rather it is to say that the modern biographer is led, most notably by Plutarch, to misread the consular’s political goals as an ambitious first-century aristocrat, and ends up advancing a misleading judgement based on an ill-defined concept of statesmanlike qualities. For if Lucullus was not a statesman, who, apart from the highly controversial figure of Caesar,28 would actually deserve the title? Even in the case of Pompey, whose power and glory undoubtedly surpassed Lucullus’, many historians would hesitate.29 Of course, Keaveney is right to argue that the long-time commander against Mithridates was not as great or as successful a statesman as Caesar, yet this alone is hardly a meaningful way of appraising his significance as a politician. Beyond this, it has been pointed out at the end of chapter 6 that some scholars tend to disparage Lucullus’ accomplishments in the endeavour to contrast his failure with the strategic and administrative competence displayed by Pompey the Great.30 Not only has this been shown to be misguided in the light of the 26

Keaveney 1992, 174. Ibid. By contrast, note Cobban 1935, 135, who generously calls Lucullus “a great general and a great statesman”. 28 For the wide spectrum of views expressed in modern scholarship cf. the detailed survey in Christ 1994, 134–320; also Jehne 2005 with further references. 29 Cf., e.g., Christ 2004, 55: “Erkennbar schließlich, daß er kein genuiner Politiker, erst recht kein Staatsmann gewesen ist”. 30 Cf. the references cited in chapter 6, n. 111, as well as Wylie 1994, whose admiration for 27

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numerous parallels between the policies pursued by the two generals, but it also appears to represent another victory of Pompey’s propaganda, which was designed to monopolise the glory of having subdued Mithridates. Again, this is not to argue that the conquest of the East should be considered Lucullus’ achievement rather than that of his celebrated successor,31 yet to offset their respective exploits against each other hardly does justice to either of them. To be sure, the foregoing defence of Lucullus’ standing as a statesman is not free from problems and pitfalls. After all, it has been seen that quite a few scholars would charge Plutarch with exaggerating the positive features of his hero’s policies and behaviour, and that they may actually have a fair case at least with regard to the depiction of the protagonist’s devotion to Hellenic culture and civilisation. Conspicuously, the present enquiry has produced an image that is in many respects even more favourable to the late Republican noble: while his trufhv has been argued to be misrepresented by hostile propaganda, Plutarch’s emphasis on his inability to woo the plh`qo" has been suggested to obfuscate the extent of his often considerable success, and even his philhellenism and his record in foreign policy have been judged more kindly than the majority of historians might be inclined to accept. Does this reflect a systematic bias in favour of the study’s subject? Unquestionably, this is a very serious point indeed, and certainly the reader is in a much better position to assess its validity than the author himself. Still, it will be difficult to deny that Lucullus’ image has been distorted quite significantly by the propaganda of his political adversaries, to a certain degree by his own selffashioning, and finally by Plutarch’s adaptation of the material to his biographical purpose. Apart from the question of particular themes and their construction in the Lucullus, the writer from Chaeronea may also have exercised a more general influence on subsequent judgements of the Roman statesman; for it is Plutarch who deals with the benefactor of his home town along with “the likes of Caesar and Pompey”, and it is this perspective which has served to frame the criteria applied to the consul of 74 by Keaveney and others. In such a comparison, Lucullus can only lose, just as he lost in the struggle against the members of the so-called First Triumvirate in 59. However, this alone is quite a misleading yardstick inasmuch as it obscures the fact that Lucullus figured far more prominently in the world of late Republican politics than one would expect from an idle piscinarius.

Pompey (cf. idem 1990) appears to be the driving force behind his acerbic castigation of Lucullus: “He may be classed among the least enlightened members of his order, with all their arrogance, tunnel vision, cruelty, mutual jealousy, and utter contempt for the lower classes – and in his case, limited ability to cooperate even with his own peers .... He was fortunate in serving under Sulla and the senatorial oligarchy; he could scarcely have risen under any other system” (pp. 118f.). 31 However, this point is made, e.g., by Gelzer 1926, 413; Cobban 1935, 113; also Ormerod 1924, 221, who rather unconvincingly extends this judgement to the fight against the pirates. For similar statements in the sources see chapter 4 at n. 59.

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Being an influential member of the Roman aristocracy, Lucullus was obviously involved in the succession of upheavals that ultimately led to the breakdown of the Republic. Interestingly, Plutarch, who has been seen to compare his hero to a doctor (Luc. 45.7), repeatedly refers to the ‘disease’ of the Roman state as a process beginning around the time of the protagonist’s consulship (5.5), as a possible reason for his decision to retire (38.2), and as the condition of his country at the time of his death (44.1).32 While the first of these passages highlights Lucullus’ efforts to cure the ills by political action, the other two are related to the diagnosis of his decadence in old age, thus hinting at a link between the consular’s moral and physical degeneration and that of the res publica.33 Certainly, the Republic was in a state of peril and disorder in the mid-first century as élite consensus had gradually been eroded ever since the days of the Gracchi, as social relations came to be marked by growing volatility and instability within an expanding citizen body, and as the mismatch between the institutions of the ancient city state on the one hand and the size and resources of the Mediterranean Empire on the other became increasingly apparent.34 The resulting situation has been described as a “crisis without alternative” on the grounds that the nobility kept clinging to the established order without being capable of making its organisation the object of political dispute and action, and without being challenged by any force intent on transforming the traditional constitution.35 While this must not be taken to imply that events were effectively predetermined, it is clear that the ambition of powerful individuals, whose state32 Also note Luc. 7.6 on the disease of Asia at the time of Mithridates’ invasion. For medical metaphors in Plutarch cf. the references cited above, n. 15, and, for the connexion with the crisis of the Republic, Sion-Jenkis 2003; Pelling 2004, 322–324. The image of the res publica as a sick or wounded body subject to medical treatment is not unique to the biographer, of course. Cf., e.g., Cic. Att. 1.18.2 = 18.2 Sh.B.; 9.5.2 = 171.2: causam rei publicae, quam ego amissam puto cum vulneribus suis tum medicamentis iis quae parantur; also Liv. praef. 9: haec tempora quibus nec vitia nostra nec remedia pati possumus. Further note Pelling 2004, 324–326 for the attractive suggestion that Plutarch’s imagery in some late Republican Lives, though not in the Lucullus, may be influenced by Asinius Pollio. 33 On Lucullus’ infirmity cf. Luc. 43.1f.; mor. 792b–c (An seni sit gerenda res publica); also Plin. nat. 25.25. 34 Cf., e.g., Bleicken 1995, 6: “über die Ursachen des Verfalls der Republik herrscht unter allen Gelehrten Einigkeit: Die Republik zerbrach an dem Mißverhältnis von Stadtstaat und Weltherrschaft”, but also note the modifications suggested by Eder 1996, who identifies various “time bombs” in the Republican constitution, and the dissenting views referred to in the following note as well as Gruen 1974, 498–507. Surveys of the scholarly debate can be found in Deininger 1980; Christ 1982; Morstein-Marx/ Rosenstein 2006. 35 Cf. Meier 1980, xliii–liii, 201–205, and passim: “Krise ohne Alternative”; also idem 1982, 422–437; idem 1990, esp. 54–60, with further discussion in Rilinger 1982, 288–306; Bruhns 2003, 373–376. Against Meier’s interpretation cf. Girardet 1996, esp. 217–225 and 247– 251 = 2007, 199–207 and 229–234, who vigorously but unconvincingly argues that Caesar alone destroyed the Republic, with Cicero’s political treatises constituting a serious alternative, as well as Welwei 1996, who likewise stresses the continuing viability of the Republican system and the openness of the historical process; contra Deininger 1998, esp. 124–131; also Bringmann 2003, 91–96.

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centred ethos had long served to promote stability and success, was a major factor in the unravelling of the res publica. As has been seen in the present enquiry, Lucullus was a leading exponent of the Republican system structured around the quest for power and distinction, not least, but not only, on account of the scale of the operations conducted during his long-time command in the East. In this sense, then, Plutarch may be right, and there does indeed seem to be a connexion between Lucullus’ career and the ‘disease’ of the Republic.

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ABBREVIATIONS ANRW BE CAH CIL DNP FGrH FRH IG IGRom ILS InscrIt LTUR MAMA RE SEG SIG TAM

Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt Bulletin épigraphique The Cambridge Ancient History Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum Der Neue Pauly Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker Die frühen römischen Historiker Inscriptiones Graecae Inscriptiones Graecae ad Res Romanas Pertinentes Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae Inscriptiones Italiae Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum Tituli Asiae Minoris

Abbreviations of journal titles follow those of L’année philologique.

GENERAL INDEX Abonuteichus 135 Academic philosophy see Antiochus of Ascalon; Plato Achaemenid tradition 138 Acilius Glabrio, M’. (cos. 67) 89, 102f. Aemilius Lepidus, M. (cos. 78) 84 Aemilius Paullus, L. (cos. 182/168) 111 Aesepus 143 Aigner, Heribert 117 Albinus, Decius, correspondent of Symmachus 69 Alchaudonius/Alchaedamnus, king of the Rhambaeans 130 Alexander the Great 16, 142f. see also imitatio Alexandri Alexandria 50f., 53, 80, 82 Amastris 135 ambition see philotimia; Rome amicitia see Licinius Lucullus: friends; Rome: foreign policy Amisus 36f., 44, 81f., 108f., 118, 134, 142 Amnaeus, senator 61 Amphicrates, Greek scholar 39 Andros 133f. anecdotes 50, 59–66, 92, 151 Antioch 138, 145 Antiochus XIII Asiaticus, king of Syria 131f., 144f. Antiochus I, king of Commagene 130 Antiochus of Ascalon 24, 30f., 35, 45, 134, 136 Antonius, M., triumvir 64, 69, 142, 150 Appian 25 Arcesilaus, Greek sculptor 67 Archelaus, Pontic general 121 Archias of Antioch 24, 30, 33, 45, 82, 136f., 147, 152 aretê 40, 109f. Ariobarzanes I, king of Cappadocia 145 Ariobarzanes II, king of Cappadocia 145 Aristo, pupil of Antiochus of Ascalon 136 Aristus, brother of Antiochus of Ascalon 136 Armenia 36, 38, 53, 86, 102, 108f., 122f., 130, 138–140 Arretium 25 Arsanias 123 Artaxata 109, 124 Ash, Rhiannon 116

Asia, province of 35f., 38, 81, 86, 132f., 135, 137, 143, 159 Athens, Athenians 21f., 37, 40f., 44, 81, 94f., 133f., 142 Athos, Mount 63 Atropateni 123 Augustus 142 Aurelius Cotta, M. (cos. 74) 103f., 121 Autolycus, founder of Sinope 37, 44f. Bacchides/Bacchus, eunuch of Mithridates 39 Badian, Ernst 79, 104, 134f., 141 Ballesteros Pastor, Luis 7, 13, 142 banquets see Licinius Lucullus Barbarian characteristics 27, 29f., 42f., 52f., 56f., 107, 132, 150 benefactions see Cimon; Licinius Lucullus Bernhardt, Rainer 47, 128 bilingualism 28, 31–33 biography 9f. see also Plutarch: genre Bithynia 35 Boeotia 19 Bona Dea 72 Bosporan kingdom 130 bribery 85–87, 101f., 111 Brunt, Peter 85, 117 Cabira 39, 108, 118, 122 Caecilia, Lucullus’ mother 52 Caecilii Metelli 81f., 85, 99 Caecilius, Q., eques 67 Caecilius Metellus Numidicus, Q. (cos. 109) 99 Caecilius Metellus Pius, Q. (cos. 80) 61 Callias, Peace of 22 Callimachus, Pontic general 37 Callistratus, confidential secretary of Mithridates 108 camels 49, 105 Cappadocia 129, 134, 145 Cassius Dio 25, 113–115 Chaeronea 19–21, 27, 33f., 135, 149f., 158 cherry 49, 68 Chios 133 Cilicia 52, 83, 85, 101–104, 133f., 143f., 146 Cimon 18–22, 30, 33f., 40f., 51f., 57–59, 94, 110, 127, 150, 153

194

General Index

benefactions 30, 33, 40f., 57 debauchery 21, 51f., 58f. in modern scholarship 21f. Civil Wars 78, 81, 84, 128 Claros 133f. Claudii 85, 138 Claudius Marcellus, M. (cos. 222/215/214/210/ 208) 43 Claudius Pulcher, Ap. (cos. 54) 51, 53, 67, 130, 138f. Cleopatra VII, queen of Egypt 52 client kings 129–132, 143–145 clientela see amicitia; patronage Clodia, wife of Lucullus 52 Clodius Pulcher, P. (tr. pl. 58) 49, 52, 63, 72, 87, 89f., 105, 111–113, 116, 124, 145 Cnidus 35 Coarelli, Filippo 143 Colophon 35 Corinth 37 Cornelia, daughter of Sulla 73f. Cornelius, C. (tr. pl. 67) 84 Cornelius Cethegus, P., senator 52, 83, 85f., 101f. Cornelius Nepos 24 Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, P. (cos. 147/134) 29, 51, 54 Cornelius Scipio Africanus, P. (cos. 205/194) 69, 142 Cornelius Sisenna, L. (pr. 78) 28 Cornelius Sulla, Faustus, son of the dictator 81 Cornelius Sulla, L., dictator 9, 35f., 44f., 50f., 55, 69, 74, 77–83, 88f., 100f., 105f., 116, 133, 135, 140, 154f., 158 memoirs 24, 28, 45, 51, 79, 81f. Cos 35 Co≥kun, Altay 7 Crawford, Michael 32 Crete 133 Croce, Benedetto 155 Cyprus 70, 80, 133 Cyrene, Cyrenaica 34, 80, 82, 133–136 Cyzicus 37, 115, 122, 135, 138f. Damon of Chaeronea 33f. Dardanus 35, 81 Darius III, Persian king 143 D’Arms, John 73, 76 De Blois, Lukas 111 Deiotarus, king of Galatia 129, 144 Delian League 40 Delos 132

Delphi 133 demagogues see Rome Demetrius I Poliorcetes, king of Macedon 150 Demetrius, freedman of Pompey 61 democracy see Rome Desideri, Paolo 7 dikaiosynê 27, 35, 37, 39f., 43, 80–82 Dio of Alexandria 136 Diodotus, priest from Mopsuestia 133 Domitius Corbulo, Cn., Neronian general 66, 116 dreams 37, 44f., 81 Duff, Tim 7, 16f. Egypt 50f., 69, 80, 133, 136 élite see Greek cities; Rome Ellinger, Pierre 34 Epaminondas 19 Ephesus 133f. Ephialtes 21 Epicadus, freedman of Sulla 28 Epicurus, Epicureanism 57, 64, 75 eras Caesarian 135 Lucullan 135 Pompeian 146 Erbse, Hartmut 18 Euphrates 40, 129, 132 Eupolemus of Calacte 137 Eurymedon 21, 41 exempla 49f., 66–69, 78 Fabius Maximus, Q. (cos. 233/228/215/214/ 209) 78 Fabius Maximus Gurges, Q. (cos. 292/276) 69 factions see Rome Fenestella 23, 25 Ferrary, Jean-Louis 141 fides 131 Fimbrians 106f., 112, 114–117, 123, 125 Flaig, Egon 96, 124 Flavius Fimbria, C., legate of Flaccus (cos. 86) 80, 106, 112 friendship see Licinius Lucullus: friends; Rome: foreign policy Fulvia, wife of Mark Antony 52 Gabinius, A. (cos. 58) 63 Galatia 90, 108, 110, 129, 143 games see Greek cities; Rome gardens see horti Lucullani Gaul 88, 101

General Index Gelzer, Matthias 12, 83, 117 gifts 50, 130 see also bribery Gordyene 130–132, 141 Gracchi 9, 155, 159 Granicus 143 Greek cities 33–40, 44–47, 132–136, 146, and passim élite and multitude 42, 93f. games 38, 44, 135 liberty 44, 128, 134, 142 Gruen, Erich 77f., 141 Heinen, Heinz 7 Heraclea 35 Hillman, Thomas 13, 62, 66, 70–72, 89, 93, 154 Hölkeskamp, Karl-Joachim 95f. Holmes, Thomas Rice 149 honours see Licinius Lucullus: benefactions Horace 24 Hortensius Hortalus, Q. (cos. 69) 28 horti Lucullani 73–75 humanitas see philanthrôpia hybris 39, 42, 49, 52f., 56, 63, 112 Hypata 132 Hyrcanian Sea 40 imitatio Alexandri 13, 44, 142f. imperialism see Rome International Plutarch Society 7 Iulius Caesar, C. 9, 11, 16, 62, 73, 75, 90, 92, 101, 105, 124, 126, 128, 142, 157–159 Iunius Brutus, M., assassin of Caesar 43f. Jehne, Martin 96 Jolivet, Vincent 75 justice see dikaiosynê Kaesser, Christian 21 kalokagathia 37, 103 Keaveney, Arthur 10, 13, 79, 83, 140, 157f. kings, kingship 50, 63, 66f., 75 see also client kings ktistês see Licinius Lucullus Lanuvium 103, 143 Laser, Günter 96 Lavery, Gerard 13 leadership 40, 87, 91, 93f., 99–101, 105–107, 109–113, 115, 117, 119–121, 153 Leão, Delfim Ferreira 7 leges sumptuariae see sumptuary laws

195

Lehmann, Gustav Adolf 7 lex Gabinia 102 lex Manilia 143 lex Plotia agraria 112 libertas see Greek cities; Rome Licinia, daughter of Lucullus 133 Licinii Luculli 136 Licinius Crassus, M. (cos. 70/55) 53f., 60, 62, 64f., 73, 85, 92, 140 Licinius Lucullus, L. (cos. 151) 99 Licinius Lucullus, L. (pr. 104) 68, 99 Licinius Lucullus, L. (cos. 74) art collector 32, 66–69, 119 as a champion of the aristocracy 77, 90– 94, 120, 154 as a ‘conservative’ politician 11f., 77, 83–85, 99, 101, 104, 154 as an anachronism 117, 154f. author of a Greek history of the Marsic War 28, 32 banquets 56f., 60, 62, 66–69, 92f., 102 battle commander and commilito 122f. benefactions and honours 10, 20f., 27, 30, 33–40, 44f., 47, 55, 67, 100, 113, 119, 132–136, 142, 146, 148–150, 152 fishponds and aviary 60f., 67f., 75 friends in the Greek world 29f., 33, 40, 45f., 90, 102, 104, 127–148 in modern scholarship 12f., 47, 50, 64, 76–78, 83f., 104, 117, 147, 149, 153–160 ktistês 34, 38, 133f. libraries 30, 32 oratory and persuasive skills 40, 78, 83, 99, 101, 103f., 106, 108, 110, 113, 121– 126, 156, 158 patronus 38, 40, 44, 133f. philhellenism and ‘Hellenic’ qualities 10, 12, 20f., 27–47, 55, 57, 78f., 81f., 100, 107, 113, 128, 132, 149, 151f., 155f., 158 philosophical interests 27f., 30–32, 41, 51, 54, 58, 80, 136 public standing and propaganda 13, 44– 47, 99–102, 128, 136–139, 149, 151f., 155, 158 retirement 50, 53–66, 70–72, 77, 91f., 129, 152, 154f., 159 self-enrichment 32, 36, 51f., 61, 63, 87, 105, 113, 115f., 118–120, 149, 155 temperance in his early career 28, 50– 53, 61, 83, 106 triumph 49, 53, 70, 87, 91, 100f., 118, 129, 140, 146 tryphê 10, 12, 21, 27–30, 49–77, 92,

196

General Index

110, 115, 151f., 154, 156, 158 villas 60, 63, 66–69, 72–76 Xerxes togatus 60f., 63, 65, 68, 75, 142 Licinius Lucullus, M. (cos. 73) 55, 84, 99 Licinius Macer, C. (tr. pl. 73) 84 Licinius Murena, L. (cos. 62) 37, 63, 72, 103, 143 Livy 23f. Lutatius Catulus, Q. (cos. 78) 84 luxuria see tryphê Lycurgus 43 Lysippus, Greek sculptor 143

Mummius, L. (cos. 146) 37 Mytilene 25, 35

Machares, son of Mithridates 130 Maecenas, C. 75 Manlius Torquatus, T. (cos. 347/344/340) 69 Manlius Vulso, Cn. (cos. 189) 64 Marathon 41 marble 49, 68 Marcius Rex, Q. (cos. 68) 144f. Marius, C. (cos. 107/104–100/86) 9, 29, 43, 54, 73f., 81, 125, 151 Marsic War 28, 32, 34, 78f., 125 Mastrocinque, Attilio 145 Maurenbrecher, Bertold 116 Mazaca 146 McGing, Brian 7 McGushin, Patrick 116 Meier, Christian 85 Memmius, C. (pr. 58) 87, 91, 146 Memnon of Heraclea 25 Memphis 50 Mesopotamia 136 Metrodorus of Scepsis 39 mildness see praotês military see soldiers Miltiades 41 Misenum 73 Mithridates VI Eupator, king of Pontus 13, 27, 35f., 39, 45, 49, 69, 80, 91, 103, 107f., 112, 115, 120–122, 127, 129f., 132, 137– 139, 143f., 147, 153, 158f. Mommsen, Theodor 77 Monime of Miletus, wife of Mithridates 39 Mopsuestia 80, 133 Morstein-Marx, Robert 96 mos maiorum see Rome Mouritsen, Henrik 97f. Muccioli, Federicomaria 7 Mucius Scaevola, Q., contemporary of Lucullus or his father 68 multitude see Greek cities; Plutarch: plêthos; Rome

paideia 27–34, 41–44, 51 Parthia 53, 62, 64, 109, 127, 130, 140 patronage see Licinius Lucullus: friends; Rome patronus, patrôn 133f., 141, 146 see also Licinius Lucullus Patterson, John 7 Pausanias, Spartan general 41 Pelling, Christopher 7, 17, 19, 91f., 94, 152 Pelopidas 19 Pentecontaetia 21f. Pericles 21 Persia 21f., 40f., 56, 63, 110, 138, 142f. philanthrôpia 27, 34, 37–39, 41–43, 46, 57, 132 Philip II, king of Syria 144f. Philo of Larissa 30 Philorhomaios 130, 145 philotimia 28f., 37, 43, 53f., 58f., 61, 70, 83, 90f., 104, 142, 151 see also Rome: ambition Phocis 34 Phoenicia 139 Photius 25 Phraates III, king of Parthia 127, 130, 140 Piccirilli, Luigi 13 Pincian Hill 73 pirates 89, 132f., 146, 153, 158 piscinarii 62f., 72, 158 see also Licinius Lucullus: fishponds Pitane 80 Plato, Platonism 17, 29f., 34f., 41, 57, 150 plêthos see Plutarch Pliny the Elder 25, 67f. Plutarch as a Greek aristocrat 57f., 93f., 111, 153 as a painter 15, 20f. attitude to Rome 34, 42f., 93 cross-references 18f. genre (biography and history) 10, 14–

Naples 73, 76 Nesis 73, 75 Nisibis 37, 111, 115, 123 nobility see Rome: élite Numa 43 Olthacus/Olcabas, Dandarian prince 137 oratory see Licinius Lucullus; Rome Orchomenus 33

General Index 17, 20f., 152 ‘Greekness’ of the Lives 42f., 94 metaphors 18, 127, 153, 159 method of work 22f. moralism 15–17, 150 plêthos 14, 93f., 104, 109f., 114, 120 programmatic statements 14–16, 20f. representation of good and bad traits 20, 149–151, 158 sources 14f., 17, 22–25, 44–47, 59f., 71, 95, 117, 151–153, 155f. synkrisis 17–20, 41f., 59, 110, 150 view of Roman politics 87, 93–95, 152f. Pompeiopolis see Soli Pompeius Magnus, Cn. (cos. 70/55/52) 9, 13, 24f., 40, 45f., 54–56, 60–63, 65, 68, 70– 73, 75, 77f., 82, 85, 87–94, 101–105, 110– 113, 115–120, 124, 126, 128f., 131f., 137, 140, 142–148, 152f., 157f. temperantia 60f., 75, 87 Pontus 25, 44, 69, 103, 108f., 113, 121, 123, 130, 143–145 Porcius Cato (Censorius), M. (cos. 195) 46, 78 Porcius Cato (Uticensis), M. (pr. 54) 43f., 60f., 67, 70, 92 Posidonius of Apamea 24f. Praecia, mistress of Cethegus 52, 85f., 101f. Praeneste 74 praotês 18, 34f., 41–43, 79, 81, 132 propaganda see Licinius Lucullus; Rome proscriptions 74, 81, 84 prosopography 9, 85 Ptolemies 64 Ptolemy IX Soter II, king of Egypt 50, 80 publicani see Rome Quellenforschung see Plutarch: sources Quinctius, L. (pr. 68) 83f., 87, 99, 102 Quinctius Flamininus, T. (cos. 198) 142 Rhodes 133 Rome ambition of politicians 45, 61, 72, 78, 88, 96f., 100–104, 129, 137–143, 148, 159f. anti-Hellenic sentiments 29–31, 46 assemblies 95–98 ‘demagogues’ 51f., 63, 77, 83–87, 90, 92–94, 97, 102, 105, 112, 115, 120, 153 ‘democracy’ 95f. ‘disease’ of the Republic 53, 83, 159f. élite 9–12, 32f., 47, 64–66, 72, 75f., 82–

197

87, 94–104, 116, 128, 141f., 153–160 equites 86, 94, 102 factions 12f., 83–86, 95, 102–104, 145, 155 foreign policy 33–40, 43–47, 127–148 games 97, 99f. imperialism 139f. libertas 63, 67, 84, 96 mos maiorum 46, 49, 65, 67, 69, 107, 111, 116, 119, 152 multitude 11, 77f., 81, 83, 87, 92, 95– 105, 126, 153, 155f. optimates 12, 96f., 99, 103f., 154f., 157 oratory 95–97, 99 patronage 78, 98, 129, 134f., 140–142, 146–148 philhellenism see Licinius Lucullus plebs contionalis 98 political crisis 10, 159f. political culture 12, 95–104, 121, 154– 156 populares 96f., 103, 153, 155 propaganda 46, 50, 56, 59–66, 72, 75, 77, 92, 97f., 151f., 155f., 158 publicani 35f., 86, 94, 102 violence 92, 97, 101 voting 96, 98 Romulus 16 Salamis 41 Saller, Richard 141 Sallust 19, 23f., 75, 88, 94f., 107, 112, 115– 117 Samosata 130 Scardigli, Barbara 7, 13 Schütz, Günter 11–13, 79, 83f., 154, 157 Scribonius Curio, C. (cos. 76) 74, 84 Second Sophistic 17, 27, 41f. Sempronia, supporter of Catiline 52 Sergius Catilina, L. (pr. 68) 72 Sertorius, Q., Civil War general 84, 88, 105 Servilia, wife of Lucullus 52 Servilius the Augur 99 Sextilius, legate of Lucullus 140 Sicily 43, 69 Side 146 Sinope 37, 44, 81f., 130, 134f. Social War see Marsic War soldiers auxiliary troops 108, 129 disaffection towards Lucullus 36f., 39f., 52, 86f., 90f., 102, 105–109 enemy troops 53, 107

198

General Index

greed 105–108, 111–113, 115, 118–120, 126 officers and centurions 124 property qualification 125 social background 121, 125f. tryphê 51f., 106f., 109, 114, 116f., 119 Soli/Pompeiopolis 146 Sophene 39, 130 sôphrosynê 43, 46, 49, 51, 60f. Spain 88f., 112 Sparta 21f., 41 Spartacus 105 statesmen 9, 14, 79, 83, 93f., 111, 157f. see also leadership Stein-Hölkeskamp, Elke 22 Stesimbrotus 41 Stoicism 57, 64 Strabo 24f., 144 Suetonius 59 sumptuary laws 65 Swain, Simon 32f., 36, 43, 47, 55, 91, 149f. Syme, Ronald 50, 103 synkrisis see Plutarch Synnada 133–135 Syracuse 43 Syria 131f., 144f. tears 37, 124 temperantia see Licinius Lucullus; Pompeius Magnus; sôphrosynê Themistocles 41 Theophanes of Mytilene 24f., 90, 113, 137, 147 Theophilus, son of Tibius 144 Theseus 16 Thompson, Dorothy 7 Thucydides 14, 21 Thyateira 133 Tibius, relative of Strabo 144 Tigranes I, king of Armenia 27, 38f., 45, 49, 51, 53, 102, 112f., 122, 127, 130–132, 138f., 146, 152 Tigranes (the Younger), son of Tigranes I 138

Tigranocerta 24f., 27, 38f., 55, 118f., 122, 127, 130f., 134, 146 Tremelius Scrofa, Cn., interlocutor of Varro 66 triumph see Licinius Lucullus Triumvirate, so-called First 62, 92, 158 tryphê 42, 46, 49, 52f., 56, 63f., 69, 76, 83 see also Licinius Lucullus; soldiers Tubero the Stoic 61 Tullius Cicero, M. (cos. 63) 11, 24f., 29–32, 43f., 54, 62, 66, 70, 72f., 75, 92f., 102, 159 Tusculum 30, 67, 73 Twyman, Briggs 85 tychê 80f., 109 Tyrannio, Pontic scholar 37, 103 Valerians see Fimbrians Valerius Asiaticus, (D.) (cos. 35/46 A.D.) 74f. Valerius Flaccus, L. (cos. 86) 106, 112 Valerius Flaccus, L. (pr. 63) 72 Valerius Triarius, C., legate of Lucullus 104, 123 Van Ooteghem, Jules 10, 12, 34f., 76, 117 Varro 25, 66f. Velleius Paterculus 25 Verres, C. (pr. 74) 135, 137 Vettius, L., eques 92 villas see horti Lucullani; Licinius Lucullus Villoresi, Marco 10, 12 violence see Rome voting see Rome Wallace-Hadrill, Andrew 75 Weizsäcker, Adolf 16 Xenocrates of Chalcedon 57 Xerxes I, Persian king 63 see also Licinius Lucullus: Xerxes togatus Zarbienus, king of Gordyene 131f., 138 Zecchini, Giuseppe 62 Zela 113, 123 Ziegler, Ruprecht 146

INDEX LOCORUM Literary Sources Ail. var. 12.25 136 Aischin. Ctes. 183–185 40 Amm. 22.8.16 49 Amm. 23.6.56 49 Ampelius 18.18 69 App. civ. 1.57.253 79 App. civ. 1.105.493–106.500 100 App. civ. 1.111.517 135 App. civ. 2.9.32 90, 92 App. civ. 2.12.43–45 92 App. Mithr. 33.131f. 133 App. Mithr. 38.148–39.152 81 App. Mithr. 51.205–52.210 106 App. Mithr. 56.226 133 App. Mithr. 59.241–60.249 106 App. Mithr. 62.259–63.261 35 App. Mithr. 67.285 134 App. Mithr. 69.292f. 132 App. Mithr. 72.309 106 App. Mithr. 75.326 129 App. Mithr. 76.329 143 App. Mithr. 76.330 135 App. Mithr. 78.344 109 App. Mithr. 79.353f. 137 App. Mithr. 80.357 129 App. Mithr. 80.359 129 App. Mithr. 82.367 108 App. Mithr. 82.368 39, 138 App. Mithr. 82.369 39 App. Mithr. 83.370–372 44 App. Mithr. 83.370 134 App. Mithr. 83.373 44 App. Mithr. 83.374 44, 134, 142 App. Mithr. 83.375 130 App. Mithr. 83.376 36 App. Mithr. 85.385f. 123 App. Mithr. 85.388 118 App. Mithr. 86.389–391 38 App. Mithr. 86.392 118 App. Mithr. 87.393 140 App. Mithr. 87.397 109

App. Mithr. 89.402 104 App. Mithr. 90.411 102, 114, 125f. App. Mithr. 90.412 126 App. Mithr. 96.444 146 App. Mithr. 97.448 90 App. Mithr. 97.450 120 App. Mithr. 105.496 145 App. Mithr. 106.499f. 145 App. Mithr. 114.560 144 App. Mithr. 115.562 146 App. Mithr. 116.565 118 App. Syr. 49.249 131 App. Syr. 49.250 131, 145 Arist. Ath. pol. 26.1–28.2 22 Asconius, pp. 60 and 79 Clark 84 Athen. 2.50f–51a 49 Athen. 6.273b 62 Athen. 6.274e–f 49 Athen. 12.543a 49 Calpurnius Piso, FRH 7, F 37 64 Cass. Dio 19 F 64 64 Cass. Dio 30–35, F 104.1–5 106 Cass. Dio 36.1.2 127 Cass. Dio 36.2.1 102 Cass. Dio 36.2.2 102, 143 Cass. Dio 36.2.3 38 Cass. Dio 36.2.4 118, 130 Cass. Dio 36.2.5 130 Cass. Dio 36.3.1 130, 140 Cass. Dio 36.3.2f. 140 Cass. Dio 36.6.1 109, 124 Cass. Dio 36.12.3 104 Cass. Dio 36.14.3 114, 123 Cass. Dio 36.14.4 111, 114, 143 Cass. Dio 36.15.3 114 Cass. Dio 36.16.1 102 Cass. Dio 36.16.2 113 Cass. Dio 36.16.3 114f., 118f. Cass. Dio 36.17.2 111 Cass. Dio 36.17.3 145 Cass. Dio 36.37.6 146 Cass. Dio 36.41 89

200 Cass. Dio 36.46 90 Cass. Dio 36.46.2 61 Cass. Dio 36.47.2 119 Cass. Dio 37.6.2 138 Cass. Dio 37.7a 145 Cass. Dio 37.49.4 90, 92 Cass. Dio 37.49.5 92 Cass. Dio 38.5.1f. 112 Cass. Dio 38.9.2–4 92 Cass. Dio 39.37.2–4 65 Cass. Dio 47.27.3 130 Cic. ac. pr. 1 24, 100 Cic. ac. pr. 2 24 Cic. ac. pr. 3 24, 72, 86f. Cic. ac. pr. 4 24, 31, 45, 136 Cic. ac. pr. 7 31 Cic. ac. pr. 11 51, 80 Cic. ac. pr. 12 51, 80, 136 Cic. ac. pr. 61 136 Cic. Arch. 5 33, 136 Cic. Arch. 11 137 Cic. Arch. 19 29 Cic. Arch. 21 24 Cic. Arch. 24 137 Cic. Att. 1.16.15 24 Cic. Att. 1.18.2 159 Cic. Att. 1.18.6 62 Cic. Att. 1.19.6 62 Cic. Att. 1.19.10 32 Cic. Att. 1.20.3 62 Cic. Att. 2.1.7 62 Cic. Att. 2.9.1 62f. Cic. Att. 2.24.2–4 92 Cic. Att. 9.5.2 159 Cic. Att. 13.6.4 103, 143 Cic. Att. 13.12.3 31 Cic. Att. 13.16.1 31 Cic. Att. 13.19.5 31 Cic. Brut. 178 86 Cic. Brut. 222 99 Cic. Cluent. 110 83 Cic. Cluent. 137 84 Cic. Deiot. 13 144 Cic. fam. 1.9.20 62 Cic. fin. 2.107 32, 66 Cic. fin. 3.7–10 30 Cic. Flacc. 28 65 Cic. Flacc. 85 72, 137 Cic. har. 42 103, 111 Cic. leg. 3.30 66, 76 Cic. leg. 3.31 32, 66 Cic. Manil. 5 143

Index Locorum Cic. Manil. 13 46, 120 Cic. Manil. 21 103 Cic. Manil. 22 108, 120 Cic. Manil. 23 109, 114, 132 Cic. Manil. 24 109 Cic. Manil. 26 114, 143 Cic. Manil. 36–42 46 Cic. Manil. 39 120 Cic. Manil. 40f. 61 Cic. Mil. 73 72 Cic. Mur. 11f. 63 Cic. Mur. 20 72, 103 Cic. Mur. 76 65 Cic. off. 1.140 66 Cic. off. 2.50 100 Cic. off. 2.57 100 Cic. parad. 40 52, 86 Cic. Phil. 11.33 129 Cic. Phil. 11.34 144 Cic. Sest. 58 139 Cic. Sest. 93 63 Cic. Sest. 109 98 Cic. Vatin. 24–26 92 Cic. Verr. 2.2.145 135 Cic. Verr. 2.2.154 135 Cic. Verr. 2.2.160 135 Cic. Verr. 2.4.49 137 Cic. Verr. 2.4.61 145 Cic. Verr. 2.4.67f. 145 Colum. 1.4.6 68 Colum. 8.16.5 67 Diod. 4.21.4 67 Diod. 33.28a.1–3 51 Diod. 38/39, F 8 106 Diod. 40.1a–b 144 Eus. chron. p. 261 Schoene 144f. Eutr. 6.9.2 104, 127 Eutr. 6.9.3 143 Eutr. 6.14.1 144 Fest. 15.3 127 Flor. 1.40.10 81 Flor. 1.40.17 143 Flor. 1.46.4 140 Gran. Licinian. 35.82 35 Gran. Licinian. 36.6 100

Index Locorum Hdt. 7.22–24 63 Hdt. 7.33–36 63

Nep. Att. 5.1 67 Nicolaus, FGrH 90, F 77 49, 63, 67

Hor. epist. 1.6.40ff. 68 Hor. epist. 2.2.26ff. 120 Ioh. Malalas 8.31 145 Ioh. Malalas 8.33 145 Ioh. Malalas 9.21 145 Ios. ant. Iud. 13.419–421 139 Ios. ant. Iud. 14.114 34, 80, 133 Ios. bell. Iud. 1.116 139 Isid. orig. 6.5.1 30 Isid. orig. 17.7.16 49 Iust. 40.2.2 131 Iust. 40.2.3–5 145 Liv. praef. 9 159 Liv. 25.40.1–3 43 Liv. 27.16.7f. 43 Liv. 39.6.7–9 64 Liv. per. 81.1 81 Liv. per. 82.4 106 Liv. per. 83.8 106 Liv. per. 89.14 35 Liv. per. 94.1 121 Liv. per. 94.2 129 Liv. per. 98.1 130 Liv. per. 98.9 114 Macr. Sat. 3.15.6 62, 67

Oros. 6.2.9–11 106 Oros. 6.2.10 80 Oros. 6.2.18 129 Oros. 6.3.3 44 Oros. 6.3.7 130 Oros. 6.13.2 140 Paus. 1.20.6f. 81 Paus. 9.33.6 81 Phld. Acad. Ind. 34f. 136 Plin. nat. 2.235 130 Plin. nat. 8.19 100 Plin. nat. 8.211 68 Plin. nat. 9.170 60, 68 Plin. nat. 14.96 67, 100 Plin. nat. 15.102 49, 68 Plin. nat. 18.32 68 Plin. nat. 25.25 159 Plin. nat. 28.56 68 Plin. nat. 33.148 64 Plin. nat. 34.14 64 Plin. nat. 34.36 32 Plin. nat. 34.93 32 Plin. nat. 35.125 32 Plin. nat. 35.155f. 32, 67 Plin. nat. 36.49f. 49, 68 Plin. nat. 36.189 74 Plin. nat. 37.12 64 Plin. nat. 37.16 118

Mela 1.71 146 Memnon, FGrH 434, F 22.11 81 Memnon, F 24.1–3 106 Memnon, F 27.5f. 35 Memnon, F 28.2 106 Memnon, F 28.4 143 Memnon, F 29.6 138 Memnon, F 30.1 108, 129 Memnon, F 30.4 44 Memnon, F 31.1 138 Memnon, F 31.3 138 Memnon, F 37.6 130 Memnon, F 37.8 44 Memnon, F 38.1 138f. Memnon, F 38.5 123 Memnon, F 38.6 38 Memnon, F 38.8 140

Plut. Aem. 1.1–5 15 Plut. Aem. 1.1 19 Plut. Aem. 2.6 111 Plut. Aem. 3.6f. 111 Plut. Aem. 10.1–6 111 Plut. Aem. 11 111 Plut. Aem. 31.2 111 Plut. Aem. 38.1–7 111 Plut. Aem. 39.2 111 Plut. Aem. 39.4 111 Plut. Aem. 39.6–9 111 Plut. Alex. 1 14 Plut. Alex. 1.3 15, 20 Plut. Ant. 10.5f. 52 Plut. Ant. 21.2 61 Plut. Ant. 25–29 52 Plut. Arat. 1 15

201

202 Plut. Caes. 13f. 92 Plut. Caes. 17 62 Plut. Caes. 46.7f. 90 Plut. Caes. 48.8–12 90 Plut. Cat. Min. 19.8 61 Plut. Cat. Min. 24.1 15 Plut. Cat. Min. 29.5 87, 90f., 146f. Plut. Cat. Min. 29.6f. 87, 92 Plut. Cat. Min. 29.8 92 Plut. Cat. Min. 31–33 92 Plut. Cat. Min. 37.10 15 Plut. Cic. 4.1f. 30 Plut. Cic. 29.4 72 Plut. Cic. 31.5 72, 92 Plut. Cim. 1f. 20f. Plut. Cim. 1.3–7 33 Plut. Cim. 1.9 34 Plut. Cim. 2.1 33 Plut. Cim. 2.2–5 15, 150 Plut. Cim. 2.2 33, 135 Plut. Cim. 3 20, 127 Plut. Cim. 3.1 19, 34 Plut. Cim. 3.3 34 Plut. Cim. 4.4 21 Plut. Cim. 4.5 21, 41 Plut. Cim. 4.6–10 21, 52 Plut. Cim. 5.1 41 Plut. Cim. 5.5f. 41 Plut. Cim. 6.1 110 Plut. Cim. 6.2f. 41 Plut. Cim. 7.4–8.2 40 Plut. Cim. 8.1 41 Plut. Cim. 9.1 41 Plut. Cim. 10.6 41 Plut. Cim. 10.7 30, 41 Plut. Cim. 10.8 21, 41, 94 Plut. Cim. 12.2 41 Plut. Cim. 12.5–13.4 21, 41 Plut. Cim. 13.3 127 Plut. Cim. 13.7 41 Plut. Cim. 15.1–5 21 Plut. Cim. 15.1–3 94 Plut. Cim. 15.3f. 52 Plut. Cim. 16.1–3 21 Plut. Cim. 16.3 41 Plut. Cim. 16.9f. 21 Plut. Cim. 18.6f. 41 Plut. Crass. 1.1–3 62 Plut. Crass. 2.6 62 Plut. Crass. 3.1f. 62 Plut. Crass. 14.1–5 92 Plut. Crass. 18.4 53, 127 Plut. Dem. 1f. 23

Index Locorum Plut. Dem. 11.7 15 Plut. Demetr. 1 150 Plut. Demetr. 1.1–6 15 Plut. Fab. 22.7f. 43 Plut. Galb. 2.5 15 Plut. Luc. 1–4 78 Plut. Luc. 1.1 52, 99 Plut. Luc. 1.2f. 99 Plut. Luc. 1.4 24, 28, 34 Plut. Luc. 1.5 28, 34 Plut. Luc. 1.6 28, 34, 54 Plut. Luc. 1.7 28, 31f., 34 Plut. Luc. 1.8 28, 32, 34, 99 Plut. Luc. 1.9 99 Plut. Luc. 2.1 34, 79 Plut. Luc. 2.3–3.4 133 Plut. Luc. 2.4f. 34, 80 Plut. Luc. 2.6–3.1 50 Plut. Luc. 2.9 80 Plut. Luc. 3.2–8 80 Plut. Luc. 3.3f. 35 Plut. Luc. 3.8 106 Plut. Luc. 4.1 35, 81, 133 Plut. Luc. 4.2f. 35 Plut. Luc. 4.4 81 Plut. Luc. 4.5–5.3 82 Plut. Luc. 4.5 24, 81, 88 Plut. Luc. 5.2f. 88 Plut. Luc. 5.4 52, 83 Plut. Luc. 5.5 83, 99, 159 Plut. Luc. 6.1–5 85f. Plut. Luc. 6.2–4 52 Plut. Luc. 7.1 51, 106, 114, 117 Plut. Luc. 7.2f. 51, 106, 117 Plut. Luc. 7.4–6 53 Plut. Luc. 7.6 35, 159 Plut. Luc. 7.7 36, 86 Plut. Luc. 8.1f. 103f. Plut. Luc. 8.3 108, 121 Plut. Luc. 8.4 121 Plut. Luc. 8.5 107 Plut. Luc. 9.3 122 Plut. Luc. 9.4–10.4 37 Plut. Luc. 9.5 139 Plut. Luc. 11.6 23, 49 Plut. Luc. 11.7 106 Plut. Luc. 11.8 143 Plut. Luc. 12.1 37 Plut. Luc. 13.4 133, 140 Plut. Luc. 14 125 Plut. Luc. 14.1 109, 129 Plut. Luc. 14.2 36, 107 Plut. Luc. 14.3 36, 108

Index Locorum Plut. Luc. 14.4–8 121 Plut. Luc. 14.4 108 Plut. Luc. 14.6–8 139 Plut. Luc. 14.6 38 Plut. Luc. 15.6 122 Plut. Luc. 15.7 118 Plut. Luc. 16 137 Plut. Luc. 17.6 108 Plut. Luc. 17.8 108 Plut. Luc. 18 39, 143 Plut. Luc. 18.1–3 137 Plut. Luc. 19 44 Plut. Luc. 19.3 37 Plut. Luc. 19.4 36, 108, 118 Plut. Luc. 19.5 37, 81, 118 Plut. Luc. 19.6–9 37 Plut. Luc. 19.7f. 134 Plut. Luc. 19.8f. 103 Plut. Luc. 20 36, 86 Plut. Luc. 20.5 102 Plut. Luc. 21 39, 51, 53, 138 Plut. Luc. 21.2 102, 130 Plut. Luc. 21.3 38 Plut. Luc. 21.4 38, 134 Plut. Luc. 21.7 139 Plut. Luc. 22.1 138 Plut. Luc. 22.2–7 39 Plut. Luc. 23.1 38 Plut. Luc. 23.2–6 37, 44 Plut. Luc. 23.2 38, 135 Plut. Luc. 23.4 32 Plut. Luc. 23.6 24, 45, 81 Plut. Luc. 23.7 102, 138f. Plut. Luc. 24.1 86, 108f., 122, 130, 139 Plut. Luc. 24.6 39, 108, 122, 132 Plut. Luc. 24.7 122 Plut. Luc. 25.1–3 39 Plut. Luc. 26.1 38, 134 Plut. Luc. 26.2–5 39 Plut. Luc. 26.2 119 Plut. Luc. 26.4 132 Plut. Luc. 27.1 107, 122 Plut. Luc. 27.2 122 Plut. Luc. 27.3f. 39 Plut. Luc. 27.7 107 Plut. Luc. 27.8 122 Plut. Luc. 28.1–4 122f. Plut. Luc. 28.2 129 Plut. Luc. 28.8 23f. Plut. Luc. 29.3f. 38, 118 Plut. Luc. 29.5 38, 134 Plut. Luc. 29.6 27, 37, 39, 45 Plut. Luc. 29.7 45, 130, 132

203

Plut. Luc. 29.8f. 45, 131 Plut. Luc. 29.10 45, 109, 131, 140 Plut. Luc. 30.1 140 Plut. Luc. 30.2 127 Plut. Luc. 30.4 109 Plut. Luc. 30.5 51, 109, 114, 123 Plut. Luc. 31.1 109 Plut. Luc. 31.6 132 Plut. Luc. 31.7 107, 132 Plut. Luc. 31.8 123, 132 Plut. Luc. 31.9 23 Plut. Luc. 32.1–3 109 Plut. Luc. 32.4 109, 124 Plut. Luc. 32.5f. 37 Plut. Luc. 33.1 40, 109f. Plut. Luc. 33.2 103, 109f. Plut. Luc. 33.3 23, 36, 40, 99, 107, 110, 113, 116, 121 Plut. Luc. 33.4 36, 113 Plut. Luc. 33.5 52, 86f. Plut. Luc. 33.6 102, 143 Plut. Luc. 34.1 52, 87, 111f. Plut. Luc. 34.2 87, 111f. Plut. Luc. 34.3 87, 106, 111f. Plut. Luc. 34.4 49, 52, 87, 89, 105, 111f. Plut. Luc. 34.5 87, 89, 105, 111 Plut. Luc. 34.6 112 Plut. Luc. 35.1 104 Plut. Luc. 35.3 113, 123 Plut. Luc. 35.4 113f., 124, 143 Plut. Luc. 35.5 52, 113f., 124f. Plut. Luc. 35.7 113f. Plut. Luc. 35.9 77, 87, 90, 103 Plut. Luc. 36.1 143 Plut. Luc. 36.2–4 71, 90 Plut. Luc. 36.4 110, 117 Plut. Luc. 36.5 40, 110, 117, 127 Plut. Luc. 36.6 53, 110, 127 Plut. Luc. 36.7 110, 127 Plut. Luc. 37.1 91 Plut. Luc. 37.2 87, 91 Plut. Luc. 37.3–6 53, 70 Plut. Luc. 37.3 87 Plut. Luc. 37.6 75, 89, 100, 118, 140 Plut. Luc. 38.1 52 Plut. Luc. 38.2–5 28, 50, 58, 151 Plut. Luc. 38.2 53, 70, 77, 92, 159 Plut. Luc. 38.4 127 Plut. Luc. 38.5 54, 60–62 Plut. Luc. 39–41 54 Plut. Luc. 39.1 50, 56 Plut. Luc. 39.2 32, 74 Plut. Luc. 39.3 61

204 Plut. Luc. 39.4 60 Plut. Luc. 39.5 24, 60, 68 Plut. Luc. 40.1 56 Plut. Luc. 40.2f. 60 Plut. Luc. 41.2 29, 57 Plut. Luc. 41.4–7 62, 75, 92 Plut. Luc. 41.4 60 Plut. Luc. 41.7 29, 56, 60 Plut. Luc. 42 58 Plut. Luc. 42.1 30, 54, 137 Plut. Luc. 42.2 30, 32, 40, 54, 137 Plut. Luc. 42.3 30, 54, 57, 136 Plut. Luc. 42.4 24, 30, 54, 57, 70, 92 Plut. Luc. 42.5 70–72, 77, 92 Plut. Luc. 42.6 71, 92 Plut. Luc. 42.7f. 92 Plut. Luc. 43.1 54, 70f., 159 Plut. Luc. 43.2 24, 159 Plut. Luc. 43.3 81, 100 Plut. Luc. 44 20, 151 Plut. Luc. 44.1 159 Plut. Luc. 44.3 29, 57, 59 Plut. Luc. 44.4 51, 58 Plut. Luc. 44.5f. 30, 56, 58 Plut. Luc. 44.7 52, 58 Plut. Luc. 44.8 51, 58 Plut. Luc. 45f. 20, 127 Plut. Luc. 45.1 41 Plut. Luc. 45.3 110 Plut. Luc. 45.5f. 110 Plut. Luc. 45.7 94, 110, 153, 159 Plut. Luc. 46.1 130 Plut. Luc. 46.2f. 90 Plut. Lyc. 1.7 16 Plut. Mar. 2.2–4 29 Plut. Mar. 25.6f. 24 Plut. Mar. 26.6f. 24 Plut. Mar. 34.3f. 73f. Plut. Mar. 34.5f. 29 Plut. Mar. 35.4 24 Plut. Mar. 45.10–46.5 29 Plut. Marc. 1.3 43 Plut. Marc. 10.6 43 Plut. Marc. 20.1 43 Plut. Marc. 21 43 Plut. Marc. 23.8 43 Plut. Nic. 1.5 15 Plut. Num. 23.10 43 Plut. Per. 1f. 15 Plut. Per. 2.5 18 Plut. Per. 5.3 41 Plut. Per. 9.5 18 Plut. Per. 13.16 16, 152

Index Locorum Plut. Pomp. 1.4 61 Plut. Pomp. 2.11f. 60f. Plut. Pomp. 3.5 124 Plut. Pomp. 8.7 15 Plut. Pomp. 11.4f. 120 Plut. Pomp. 13.2–4 120 Plut. Pomp. 13.3 124 Plut. Pomp. 14.7 120 Plut. Pomp. 15.3 81 Plut. Pomp. 15.4 100 Plut. Pomp. 18.2f. 61 Plut. Pomp. 20.1f. 88 Plut. Pomp. 28.6 146 Plut. Pomp. 30.3 90, 103 Plut. Pomp. 30.8 90 Plut. Pomp. 31.1f. 143 Plut. Pomp. 31.3–13 71, 90 Plut. Pomp. 31.8 61, 91 Plut. Pomp. 31.9 111, 117, 143 Plut. Pomp. 31.13 112 Plut. Pomp. 37.4 24f. Plut. Pomp. 39.2 113 Plut. Pomp. 39.3 145 Plut. Pomp. 40.8f. 61 Plut. Pomp. 45.4 118 Plut. Pomp. 46.3f. 90 Plut. Pomp. 46.5 71, 77, 90, 92 Plut. Pomp. 46.6 56, 71f., 92 Plut. Pomp. 47.1–48.7 92 Plut. Pomp. 47.5–10 90 Plut. Pomp. 48.1–7 62, 71 Plut. Pomp. 48.7 54, 56, 61 Plut. Pomp. 48.8 75 Plut. Sert. 19.8 108 Plut. Sert. 21.8f. 88 Plut. Sert. 24.4 106 Plut. Sull. 4.5 24 Plut. Sull. 5.2 24 Plut. Sull. 6.8–13 24 Plut. Sull. 6.10 45, 81f. Plut. Sull. 7.2 29 Plut. Sull. 11.8 82 Plut. Sull. 12.12–14 116 Plut. Sull. 12.13 106 Plut. Sull. 14.3 24 Plut. Sull. 14.5–9 81 Plut. Sull. 14.10 24 Plut. Sull. 16.1 24 Plut. Sull. 17.2–4 24 Plut. Sull. 19.8 24 Plut. Sull. 23.5 24 Plut. Sull. 23.11 106 Plut. Sull. 25.1–3 106

Index Locorum Plut. Sull. 25.4 35 Plut. Sull. 27.6 24 Plut. Sull. 27.11–13 24 Plut. Sull. 27.17 82 Plut. Sull. 28.15 24 Plut. Sull. 37.1–3 24 Plut. Sull. 38 100 Plut. Sull. 38.2 82 Plut. Thes. 1 16 Plut. Thes. 36.2 18 Plut. mor. 202e 81 Plut. mor. 203a 55, 122f. Plut. mor. 203b 55, 123 Plut. mor. 204b 54f., 60f., 71 Plut. mor. 457d 23 Plut. mor. 464f 23 Plut. mor. 484d–e 55, 99 Plut. mor. 616e–f 57 Plut. mor. 779d 34 Plut. mor. 782f 55, 60 Plut. mor. 785f 54–56, 58, 61, 71 Plut. mor. 786a 55, 58, 60 Plut. mor. 786d–e 24 Plut. mor. 790c–791c 58 Plut. mor. 791a 78 Plut. mor. 792b 55f., 58, 71, 159 Plut. mor. 792c 55, 58, 159 Plut. mor. 793e 58 Plut. mor. 795a–796a 58 Plut. mor. 805e–f 55, 78 Plut. mor. 806e 78 Plut. mor. 813a–c 93 Plut. mor. 813d–814c 42 Plut. mor. 816a–825f 93 Plut. mor. 824c–f 42 Plut. mor. 832a 36 Plut. mor. 1092d–1100d 57 Polyb. 9.10 43 Porphyry, FGrH 260, F 32.27 144f. Ps.-Asconius, p. 189 Stangl 83 Ps.-Asconius, p. 259 86 Quint. inst. 12.7.4 100 Sall. Cat. 11.5–7 116 Sall. Cat. 13.1 63 Sall. Cat. 25 52 Sall. Cat. 38 94 Sall. hist. frg. 1.77.20 Maurenbrecher 86

Sall. hist. frg. 2.16 24 Sall. hist. frg. 2.17 24, 61 Sall. hist. frg. 2.43 135 Sall. hist. frg. 2.98 88 Sall. hist. frg. 3.17 83 Sall. hist. frg. 3.19 107 Sall. hist. frg. 3.33 106, 115 Sall. hist. frg. 3.42 23, 49 Sall. hist. frg. 3.48.9–11 84 Sall. hist. frg. 3.48.11 83 Sall. hist. frg. 3.58 118 Sall. hist. frg. 4.7 122 Sall. hist. frg. 4.12 118 Sall. hist. frg. 4.56 138 Sall. hist. frg. 4.57 39 Sall. hist. frg. 4.58 122 Sall. hist. frg. 4.59 129 Sall. hist. frg. 4.69 127 Sall. hist. frg. 4.69.15 129 Sall. hist. frg. 4.69.21 129 Sall. hist. frg. 4.70 102, 116 Sall. hist. frg. 4.71 87, 102 Sall. hist. frg. 4.73 116 Sall. hist. frg. 5.9 115 Sall. hist. frg. 5.10 23, 36, 107, 113 Sall. hist. frg. 5.11f. 111f. Sall. hist. frg. 5.13 114, 143 Sall. Iug. 41f. 94 Sall. Iug. 63.3 29 Sall. Iug. 85.12 29 Sall. Iug. 85.32 29 Schol. Gronov., p. 321 Stangl 102 Sen. contr. 9.2.19 69 Stat. silv. 2.2.30ff., 44ff., 52ff. 63 Strab. 9.1.20 81 Strab. 11.1.6 24 Strab. 11.14.15 38, 134 Strab. 12.2.1 129 Strab. 12.2.9 134, 146 Strab. 12.3.11 32, 44 Strab. 12.3.13 144 Strab. 12.3.33 144 Strab. 12.5.2 90 Strab. 13.1.27 106 Strab. 14.3.3 146 Strab. 14.5.8 146 Strab. 16.2.10 130 Strab., FGrH 91, F 7 34, 80, 133

205

206

Index Locorum

Suet. gramm. 12.2 28 Suet. Iul. 2 35 Suet. Iul. 20.4f. 92 Suet. Iul. 33 124 Suet. Iul. 53 62 Suet. Iul. 67.2 123

vir. ill. 74.2 133 vir. ill. 74.7 32 Xen. an. 7.6.4 112

Epigraphic Sources Symm. epist. 2.60.1 69 Symm. epist. 6.70 69 Symm. epist. 7.36 69 Symm. orat. 1.16 69 Tac. ann. 4.34.3 Tac. ann. 11.1.1 Tac. ann. 13.8.3 Tac. ann. 13.34.2

24 74f. 116 116

Tert. apol. 11.8 49 Thuk. 1.89–117 21 Val. Max. 2.2.3 29 Val. Max. 2.4.6 100 Val. Max. 5.7, ext. 2 145 Val. Max. 7.8.5 67 Varr. rust. 1.2.10 Varr. rust. 1.13.7 Varr. rust. 3.2.17 Varr. rust. 3.3.10 Varr. rust. 3.4.3 Varr. rust. 3.5.8 Varr. rust. 3.16.2 Varr. rust. 3.17.9

32, 66 66 67 67 67 67 67 67

Vell. 2.23.3 81 Vell. 2.24.1 106 Vell. 2.29.3 61 Vell. 2.33 25 Vell. 2.33.2 61, 90 Vell. 2.33.4 49, 60, 67f. Vell. 2.40.5 92 vir. ill. 70 106 vir. ill. 74 68f. vir. ill. 74.1 100

Ameling 1989 133 BE 1970, no. 441 133f. CIL I2 1, p. 196 25 Ferrary 2000, 339f. 133f. IG II-III2 3.4104f. 133 IG II-III2 3.4233 133f. IG IX 2.38 79, 132 IG XII 1.48 79, 133 IGRom III 869 146 ILS 60 25 Inschr. Ephesos 2941 79, 133f. Inscriptions de Délos 1620 79, 132 Inscriptions de Délos 1699 133 Inscriptions of Side 101 146 InscrIt XIII 3.84 25 MAMA III 62 145 MAMA IV 52 79, 133–135 Pomtow 1921, 163f. 133 Reynolds 1982, doc. 3, ll. 49–57 134 Sayar et al. 1994 80, 133 SEG 1, 1923, 153 133 SEG 39, 1989, 881 133 SEG 44, 1994, 1227 80, 133 SEG 49, 1999, 1508 133f. SIG3 743 79, 132 SIG3 745 79, 133 TAM V 2.918 79, 133

Numismatic Sources Bedoukian 1978, 46f. (nos. 3–6) 39 Mousheghian/ Depeyrot 1999, 157–159 (nos. 92–95) 39 Seyrig 1955, 87f. (nos. 2–5) 39 Waddington et al. 1925, Sinope, nos. 122– 122c and 145–168b 135

The modern image of the Roman aristocrat L. Licinius Lucullus (cos. 74 B.C.) is, to a large extent, the creation of the Greek biographer Plutarch, whose narrative is structured around a number of themes and leitmotifs: the protagonist’s association with Hellenic culture, his luxurious lifestyle, and various issues related to his rôle as a political and military leader. In all of these fields, the depiction of Lucullus is conditioned not only by Plutarch’s interests and empha-

ses, but also by the nature of the sources at his disposal. Owing to Plutarch’s biographical technique and due to the bias of the contrasting traditions underlying his account, the protagonist’s actions are frequently decontextualised from their contemporary setting. Lucullus emerges from this book as an ambitious noble operating within the highly competitive system of Republican politics, and seeking to accumulate and to display power and prestige.

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