Dionysius of Halicarnassus and the 'Founders' of Rome

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Dionysius of Halicarnassus and the ‘Founders’ of Rome: Depicting Characters in the Roman Antiquities

Beatrice Poletti

A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

Classical Languages

Department of History and Classics University of Alberta

ABSTRACT

In my thesis, I analyze Dionysius’s presentation of some of the most celebrated characters of

Rome’s early past: Aeneas, Romulus, Numa Pompilius, L. Junius Brutus, and M. Furius Camillus.

The thesis is composed of Five Chapters, an introduction, and a conclusion. In Chapter 1, I describe the background to Dionysius’s arrival in Rome, focusing on the literary milieu of the capital. In

Chapter 2, I discuss Dionysius’s work and the ideas underlying the conception of the Roman

Antiquities. In Chapter 3, I examine Dionysius’s account of the Aeneas legend. I deal with the legends of Romulus and Numa, respectively, at Chapters 4.1.1 and 4.2, and 4.1.2 and 4.3. My analysis of the stories of L. Junius Brutus and M. Furius Camillus occupies Chapters 5.1 and 5.2.

I have chosen these characters for my study because of their significance in the Romans’ conception of their early past and their association with key events and institutions of Roman history, as well as the political meaning which their figures eventually acquired. By Dionysius’s time, all these characters (with the exception of L. Brutus) had come to embody the qualities and political virtues of the princeps. Aeneas was the progenitor of the Roman race as well as

Augustus’s personal ancestor through his adoption into the gens Julia. Romulus was the legendary founder of Rome, the ‘father of the country’, being responsible for its first civic institutions, and was also regarded as a model of martial prowess. King Numa was thought of as the creator of

Rome’s religious institutions. Furthermore, his reign was remembered as the most peaceful period of all Roman history. L. Junius Brutus was celebrated in the Roman tradition for the overthrow of

Tarquin the Proud’s tyranny and the institution of the Republic as well as for his devotion towards the country, manifest in his condemnation of his own sons, who were found guilty of treason. Like

Romulus, Camillus was portrayed as one of the greatest Roman generals and the saviour of the

ii country, in that he captured Veii and repelled the Gauls who had occupied the city, he and was also celebrated as an example of religious devotion.

Besides the analysis of these characters’ personal qualities, which made them suitable precedents for the princeps and could thus reveal the influence of contemporary ideas on

Dionysius’s writing, my study aims to show how Dionysius treated his source material—both earlier and contemporary accounts—and adapted it to his own purposes, namely, to demonstrate that the Romans had Greek origins and had shaped their identity through the assimilation of Greek ideas, values, and institutions. A major influence on Dionysius’s conceptions and aims came from the writings of Isocrates, and in particular the Isocratean notions of civil concord (ὁμόνοια) and civic and ancestral virtues. For all the characters under examination, Dionysius underlines their compliance with Isocratean ideals and, in the cases of Romulus, Numa, and Brutus, their role as lawgivers and their endeavours in maintaining civil concord.

Throughout my thesis, I contend that Dionysius selected his source material and granted his preference to certain versions of the events he related in accordance with the aims outlined above, and that he included current themes when these supported his overall purposes—but not necessarily because he subscribed to imperial ideology. My analysis will fill a gap in the scholarship on Dionysius by placing the Roman Antiquities within the framework of his Greek historiographical and rhetorical background. It will also prove valuable for enhancing our knowledge of Dionysius’s historical methods. Lastly, it will supply us with useful indications about Dionysius’s audience and how Roman traditional and historical events were perceived outside Rome. Overall, this study will contribute to broadening our knowledge of Dionysius’s work as well as contemporary social and cultural issues, particularly those linked to the problematic relationships between Roman and Greek elites, whom Dionysius was addressing.

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To Wesley K. – passionate artist, philosopher, and avid reader – for helping me through a difficult time.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank the Department of History and Classics of the University of Alberta for the generous financial support they offered me throughout the duration of my doctoral program. I also would like to thank everyone who inspired and supported me during this process: my supervisor, Christopher S. Mackay, who patiently read and commented on all the drafts of my thesis and, in general, provided me with invaluable mentorship; Frances Pownall and Adam Kemezis, who both read and commented on my thesis and gave me constant encouragement and precious guidance as well as opportunities of involvement in scholarly activities. All the errors that remain in the thesis are my own. I would like to thank all the faculty members of the department with whom I worked during my program, either as their student or their teaching/research assistant. I benefitted enormously from their teachings and advice. My sincerest thanks also go the staff members of the department for their kind help in solving various administrative and bureaucratic matters (not a small deal!). Finally, and most importantly, I wish to thank my family—my parents, my sisters, and my former partner—for believing in me and supporting me in every possible way.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Illustrations viii

List of Abbreviations ix

Introduction 1

1. Dionysius of Halicarnassus in Augustan Rome 4 1.1 Greek Intellectuals in Rome 5 1.1.1 From the Mid-Second Century BC to the End of the Republic 5 1.1.2 The Augustan Age: Dionysius’s ‘Colleagues’ 7 1.2 Latin Historiography of the Augustan Age: Livy and Pompeius Trogus 15 1.3 Augustus and the Roman Ancestors 21

2. The Roman Antiquities of Dionysius of Halicarnassus 28 2.1 Dionysius of Halicarnassus and his World 28 2.1.1 Dionysius’s Life in Rome 28 2.1.2 Dionysius’s Classicist Conception of the Past: On the Ancient Orators 31 2.1.3 The Roman Antiquities 39 a) Purposes of Dionysius’s Work 39 b) Dionysius’s Historiographical Principles 43 c) Dionysius’s Readership 51 d) Dionysius’s Sources and Method 53 2.2 Dionysius and the ‘Forefathers’ of Rome: Previous Scholarly Interpretations and a Proposal for a New Reading 58 2.2.1 The Roman Antiquities in the Augustan Age: Previous Scholarly Positions 58 2.2.2 Scope of the Thesis 64

3. Aeneas and the Greco-Trojan Origins of Rome 68 3.1 The Origin of the Latin People 69 3.2 The Aeneas Legend from Homer to Augustus 73 3.2.1 Aeneas in the Greek Sources 73 3.2.2 Aeneas in the Roman Sources 76 3.2.3 The Political Elaboration of the Aeneas Legend from the Third Century BC to Caesar 80 3.2.4 Aeneas in the Augustan Age 84 3.3 Aeneas’s Story in Dion. Hal. RA 1.46-64 90 3.3.1 Aeneas’s Resistance against the Greeks and Escape from Troy (RA 1.46-48) 91 3.3.2 From Troy to Laurentum: Aeneas’s Sea Travels (RA 1.49-54) 101 3.3.3 Aeneas’s Deeds in Latium (RA 1.55-64) 105

a) The Arrival of Aeneas: Prophecies and Prodigies 105 b) Aeneas’s Encounter with Latinus: the Trojans as Greeks 110 Appendix: The Penates of Lavinium 118 Conclusions 120 Table to Chapter 3.3.2: Aeneas’s Sea Travels from Troy to Laurentum 123

4. Romulus and Numa Pompilius: The Ideological Foundations of the Roman Empire 127 4.1 The Figures of Romulus and Numa in the Roman Tradition 129 4.1.1 Romulus in Late Republican and Augustan Politics 129 4.1.2 Augustus and Numa Pompilius 136 4.2 Romulus, the Lawgiver and the General 140 4.2.1 Romulus’s Foundation of the City and the ‘Constitutional Debate’ 143 4.2.2 The Constitution of Romulus 150 a) Roman Antiquities 2.7-2.14 151 b) Roman Antiquities 2.15-2.17 158 c) Roman Antiquities 2.18-2.30 163 4.2.3 Romulus’s Wars (RA 2.30-55) 169 4.3 Numa, the Peaceful Leader 180 4.3.1 Numa’s Election and Introduction to Rome (RA 2.58-61) 181 4.3.2 Numa’s Civic and Religious Initiatives (RA 2.62-75) 188 4.4 Conclusions 196

5. L. Junius Brutus and M. Furius Camillus: Rome’s ‘Second Founders’ 200 5.1 L. Junius Brutus 202 5.1.1 Introducing a New Character: Brutus’s Background 202 5.1.2 The Founder of a New Order 206 5.1.3 Amor Patriae above All: The Fate of L. Brutus’s Children 221 5.1.4 The Figure of L. Junius Brutus in the Late Republican Struggle 226 5.2 M. Furius Camillus 232 5.2.1 Camillus in Late Republican and Early Imperial Political Discourse 232 5.2.2 Camillus’s Capture of Veii 236 a) The Veientine Embassy and Camillus’s Prayer 238 b) The Removal of the Statue of Juno Regina 242 c) The Faliscan Schoolmaster 243 5.2.3 Camillus’s Exile and the Invasion of the Gauls 245 5.4 Conclusions 253

Epilogue 257

Bibliography 261

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Chapter 1

Figure 1: Ground plan of the Forum Augustum (after Zanker 1988: 194, fig. 149) 27

Chapter 3

Figure 1: Denarius of C. Julius Caesar, RRC 458/1. Image obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 124

Figure 2: Denarius of M. Herennius, RRC 308/1. Image obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 124

Figure 3: Aureus of L. Livineius Regulus, RRC 494/3b. Image obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 124

Figure 4: (From the top) Altar of the Gens Augusta from Carthage (http://kiisitalywinter.wikifoundry.com/photo/15261113/Aeneas'+departure+fr+Troy,+fr+altar+c alled+the+Gens+Augusta,+erected+by+the+freedman+Hedulus+in+Carthage,+ca+14+CE), and Medinaceli relief (detail; my picture) 125

Figure 5: (From the left) Ara Pacis Augustae (detail) (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Ara_Pacis_relieve_11.JPG), and Belvedere Altar (after Buxton 2014: 92) 126

Figure 6: Parthenon metope (http://ancientrome.ru/art/artworken/img.htm?id=815) 126

Chapter 4

Figure 1: a) Aureus of Octavian, RRC 490/2. b) Aureus of Octavian, RRC 493/1b. Images obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 199

Figure 2: As of Augustus, RIC 1 390. Image obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 199

Chapter 5

Figure 1: a) Denarius of M. Junius Brutus, RRC 433/1. b) Denarius of M. Junius Brutus, RRC 433/2). Images obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 256

Figure 2: Aureus of M. Junius Brutus, RRC 506/1. Image obtained from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service 256

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LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

BNJ I. Worthington (ed.), Brill’s New Jacoby (Leiden 2006-)

CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (Berlin 1862-)

Cornell T.J. Cornell (ed.), The fragments of the Roman historians (Oxford, 2013)

FGrH F. Jacoby (ed.), Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (1923-1954)

IG Inscriptiones Graecae (Berlin 1860-)

ILS H. Dessau (ed.), Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae (Berlin 1954)

Inscr. Ital. A. Degrassi (ed.), Inscriptiones Italiae, XIII. Fasti et Elogia (Rome 1937)

Lewis-Short C.T. Lewis, C. Short, A Latin Dictionary (Oxford 1879)

LSJ H.G, Liddell, R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford 1940)

Peter H. Peter (ed.), Historicorum Romanorum Fragmenta (Leipzig 1888)

RIC C.H.V. Sutherland, R.A.G. Carson (eds.), Roman Imperial Coinage (1984)

RRC M.H. Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage (Cambridge 1974)

INTRODUCTION

Dionysius arrived at Rome in 30 BC, at the time when Octavian had just defeated his enemies and was establishing his supremacy as well as universal peace over the empire. Dionysius’s conception of history and the aims of his work were profoundly influenced by the contemporary political and cultural developments. It was indeed the Roman conquest and, eventually, pacification of the Mediterranean that inspired Dionysius to explain the benefits of Roman hegemony to a (mostly) provincial audience. In the introduction to his excellent Ph.D. thesis about the function of speeches in the Roman Antiquities, Daniel Hogg writes: “Dionysius is Augustan and Greek. He does not fit easily into any of these boxes. This is what makes him an exciting topic: many of the questions that apply to the Hellenistic poets, the Second Sophistic, and Roman authors in the first century all apply to him too.”1 After over three years studying Dionysius’s historical and literary works myself, I find it difficult not to subscribe to Hogg’s view. Dionysius’s background as a Greek from Caria, his broad erudition, his knowledge of the Roman sources and of the Latin language, his extensive experience living and working in Rome, and the manifest favour with which he welcomes Roman authority— all these factors confer on his work (and especially his history of Rome) certain unique characteristics. One of the most interesting features is, perhaps, Dionysius’s elaboration of his source material, which in many instances derives from Roman authors. Writing chiefly (though not exclusively) for a Greek readership, Dionysius adapts Roman history and traditions both to make them more readily intelligible to a ‘foreign’ audience and to present a specific interpretation of Rome and its early inhabitants. In fact, he claims that the Romans descended from the Greeks and lived since the city’s foundation in accordance with Greek moral and civic principles. The study of the Roman Antiquities, until at least the 1980s, was very limited, suffering, as it were, from the negative assessment of influential early-twentieth century scholars such as M.F. Egger, Eduard Schwartz, and Jonas Palm, who—not finding evidence of factual truth among the profusion of details and the lengthy speeches woven in Dionysius’s text—dismissed it as a rhetorical exercise and denied that it had some value in its own right.2 In the last half century,

1 Hogg 2008: 1. 2 Egger 1902; Schwartz 1905; Palm: 1959.

however, scholarship on the Roman Antiquities has rapidly increased, revealing an unprecedented and growing interest in the Greek historian and leading to new approaches to his work.3 The research of Emilio Gabba, P.-M. Martin, Clemence Schultze, Valerie Fromentin, Matthew Fox, John Marincola, and—more recently—Nicholas Wiater (although his work focuses principally on Dionysius’s rhetorical writings) has proved crucial to understand the significance and originality of Dionysius’s history and to appreciate it in its own right.4 In spite of this flourishing of scholarly works, of which I have mentioned only those most relevant for my own research, only three monographs dealing with the Roman Antiquities have been published to date: Gabba’s seminal collection of lectures, Fabio Mora’s study of religious matters in Dionysius’s history, and Anouk Delcourt’s elaboration of her Ph.D. thesis.5 Through my dissertation, I intend to further the discussion about the importance of Dionysius’s history, which—as my ‘predecessors’ have proven—is valuable not so much for recovering fragments of previous (now lost) writers, whom Dionysius cites abundantly, as for opening new perspectives on the provincial Greek-speaking world, its contemporary cultural developments, and its interaction with the Roman government. While I lay out the scope of my thesis at chapter 2.2, it is useful to summarize its object and purpose here. In my thesis, I analyze Dionysius’s presentation of some of the most celebrated characters of Rome’s early past: Aeneas, Romulus, Numa Pompilius, L. Junius Brutus, and M. Furius Camillus. I have chosen these characters for my study because of their significance in the Romans’ conception of their early past and their association with key events and institutions of Roman history, as well as the political meaning with which their figures were eventually endowed. By Dionysius’s time, all these characters (with the exception of L. Brutus) had come to embody the qualities and political virtues of the new princeps. Aeneas (treated in Chapter Three) was the progenitor of the Roman race as well as Augustus’s personal ancestor through his adoption into the gens Julia (who claimed to be descended from Aeneas’s son, Iulus). Romulus (analyzed in Chapter Four) was the legendary founder of Rome, the ‘father of the country’, being responsible for its first civic institutions, and was also regarded as a model of martial prowess. King Numa (also treated in Chapter Four) was thought of as the creator of Rome’s religious institutions.

3 I do not mention here Dionysius’s rhetorical treatises (some of which are discussed in Chapter Two), for their study has been continuous and proficient over the last century, producing a plethora of relevant scholarship. 4 Cf. Gabba 1960, 1961, 1962, 1964, 1979, 1982a, 1984a, 1991, 1998; Martin 1971, 1989, 1998, 2000; Schultze 1986, 1996, 2000, 2004, 2007, 2011, 2012; Fromentin 1988, 1993, 1998, 2004, 2006, 2010; Fox 1993, 1996, 2001, 2011; Marincola 1997; Wiater 2011a, 2011b, 2017. I discuss specific bibliography at chap. 2.2. 5 Gabba 1991; Mora 1995; Delcourt 2005.

Furthermore, his reign was remembered as the most peaceful period of all Roman history. L. Junius Brutus (examined in Chapter Five) was celebrated in the Roman tradition for the overthrow of Tarquin the Proud’s tyranny and the institution of the Republic as well as for his devotion towards the country, manifest in his condemnation of his own sons, who were found guilty of treason. Like Romulus, Camillus (examined, again, in Chapter Five) was portrayed as one of the greatest Roman generals and the saviour of the country, in that he captured Veii and repelled the Gauls who had occupied the city, and was also celebrated as an example of religious devotion. Besides the analysis of these characters’ personal qualities, which made them suitable precedents for the princeps and could thus reveal the influence of contemporary ideas on Dionysius’s writing, my study aims to show how Dionysius treated his source material—both earlier and contemporary accounts—and adapted it to his own purposes, namely, to demonstrate that the Romans had Greek origins and had shaped their identity through the assimilation of Greek ideas, values, and institutions. A major influence on Dionysius’s conceptions and aims (which I illustrate in Chapter Two) came from the writings of Isocrates, and in particular the Isocratean notions of civil concord (ὁμόνοια, discussed extensively in Chapter Four) and civic and ancestral virtues (discussed in Chapter Two and at various points of the following chapters). For all the characters under examination, Dionysius underlines their compliance with Isocratean ideals, and, in the cases of Romulus, Numa, and Brutus, their role as lawgivers and their endeavours in maintaining civil concord. Throughout my thesis, I contend that Dionysius selected his source material and granted his preference to certain versions of the events he relates in accordance with the aims outlined above, and that he included current (‘Augustan’) themes when these supported his overall purposes—but not necessarily because he subscribed to imperial ideology. My analysis will produce meaningful results. It will fill a gap in the scholarship on Dionysius by placing the Roman Antiquities within the framework of his Greek historiographical and rhetorical background (which includes Herodotus, Theopompus, Plato, and Aristotle, in addition to Isocrates). It will also prove valuable for enhancing our knowledge of Dionysius’s historical methods. Lastly, it will supply us with useful indications about Dionysius’s audience and how Roman traditional and historical events were perceived outside Rome. Overall, this study will contribute to broadening our knowledge not only of Dionysius’s work, but also—and perhaps most importantly—of contemporary social and cultural issues, particularly those linked to the problematic relationships between Roman conquerors and Greek subjects, whom Dionysius was addressing.

CHAPTER 1 Dionysius of Halicarnassus in Augustan Rome

Dionysius’s literary activity in Rome spanned approximately the last three decades of the first century BC. When Dionysius arrived at Rome in 30 BC, soon after the battle of Actium, the Roman state had just come out of a century of persistent political and social turmoil, which had begun a hundred years before with the tribunates of Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus and now ended with the emergence of Octavian as sole ruler. Though in different ways, both Roman and provincial intellectuals recorded the variety of sentiments and tensions generated by the new state of affairs in the government of the empire. For most Roman writers of the late first century BC the issues to deal with were the fall of the old Republican system and the acceptance of Augustus’s leadership, as well as the advent of an era of renewed peace and prosperity. Provincial writers, on the other hand, were mostly preoccupied with explaining the rise of Roman hegemony to the non-Roman world and celebrating the new monarch. Dionysius’s own conception of history writing and the aims of his work were heavily influenced by contemporary political and cultural developments. Accordingly, in this first chapter I describe the background to Dionysius’s arrival in Rome, focusing on the literary milieu of the capital and the initiatives promoted by Augustus to support his regime, in order to provide a thorough contextualization for Dionysius’s historical work. In section 1.1, I consider the increasing mobility of provincial intellectuals as context for Dionysius’s move to Rome in the aftermath of Actium. I briefly delineate the evolution of this trend from the mid-second century BC to the early imperial age (1.1.1). For the latter period, I focus on the development of Greek-language historiography, and specifically, on the approaches to Roman imperialism in the work of the contemporary writers Timagenes of Alexandria, Nicolaus of Damascus, Strabo of Amasia, and Diodorus of Sicily (1.1.2). In section 1.2, I outline certain new tendencies in Latin language historiography, as are exemplified by the work of Livy and Pompeius Trogus. Lastly, section 1.3 introduces some major political and cultural changes brought about by Augustus’s rise to power and victory, with particular emphasis on the role of the ‘ancestors’ in both Roman imagery and Augustus’s programme.

1.1 Greek Intellectuals in Rome

1.1.1 From the Mid-Second Century BC to the End of the Republic

By the time of Dionysius’s arrival at Rome, in 30 BC, the Romans had been long accustomed to a Greek presence and intellectual activity in Rome. Throughout the second and first centuries BC a number of cultivated Greeks came to Rome under various circumstances and received support from, or entered the service of, Roman noble families. Some of these men were taken captive and brought to the capital as a consequence of the Roman expansion in the Greek East, especially after the Third Macedonian War in 168 BC and the repression of the Achaean revolt in 146 BC. Others reached Rome under special political circumstances, such as the expulsion of Alexandrian scholars by Ptolemy Euergetes in 145 BC and the annexation of the kingdom of Pergamum in 133 BC. As the case of Polybius shows, the relationship between Greek literati and elite Romans could bring reciprocal benefits.1 An intellectual, once he had entered circles of the Roman nobility or gained the favour of an influential man, could obtain privileges for himself and even for his hometown. On the other hand, a Roman benefactor could have his achievements glorified in literary works and receive honors from the provincial community he had benefitted. In some cases, Greek literati were directly invited to Rome by members of the Roman nobility,2 or they travelled there as ambassadors for their hometowns, as famously happened with Crates of Mallos in 168 BC and the embassy of Athenian philosophers in 155 BC.3 With the eastern campaigns of Sulla, Lucullus, and Pompey during the Mithridatic Wars from the early eighties to the late sixties BC, and Pompey’s contemporary suppression of piracy,

1 Polybius was brought to Rome from Megalopolis as a political hostage in 167 BC. In Rome, he entered aristocratic circles and became first a close acquaintance of the influential L. Aemilius Paulus (the victor over Perseus at Pydna in 168 BC), then mentor and political advisor to one of Paulus’s sons, Scipio Aemilianus. During the seventeen years that Polybius spent in Rome, he mostly lived under the patronage of Scipio Aemilianus, whom he also accompanied on his campaigns to Spain and North Africa, and composed a historical account on the contemporary irresistible growth of the Roman dominion, in which his friend and benefactor received extensive praises. On Polybius’s background and life see Eckstein 1995: 1-16; Champion 2004: 15-18. On the reciprocal benefits of this type of relationship cf. Bowersock 1965: 11-12; Erskine 1994: 70-87. 2 This was the case of L. Aemilius Paulus (see note above), who according to Pliny the Elder asked the Athenians to send him two men, a philosopher for the education of his children and a painter to celebrate his triumph. The Athenians in response sent Metrodorus, who excelled in both disciplines (Pliny NH 35.135). 3 The grammarian Crates was sent to Rome by King Attalus II, but while in Rome he broke his leg and was forced to remain there for a few months. During this time, he introduced the study of grammar via his lectures (Suet. De gram. 2). The philosophers of the Athenian embassy were Carneades the Academic and Diogenes the Stoic. For a general discussion about Greek cultural influences at Rome see, e.g., Syme 1979; Woolf 1994; Swain 1996.

which provided safer conditions for sea travel, the cultural relations between Rome and the Greek world increased significantly.4 The growing contacts with the East made the Romans more receptive to Greek culture, and around the mid-first century BC a large number of Greeks thronged to Rome in response to the heightened popularity of Greek learning among prominent Romans. Roman presence, at the same time, increased in the East, since wealthy young Romans, profiting from the Roman military influence over the eastern Mediterranean, now frequently sojourned in Greek cities to complete their education. In addition, Roman officials during their prolonged stay abroad often attracted local scholars and politicians, who in many instances joined their entourage and eventually moved to Rome with their new patrons.5 Greek intellectuals at Rome, whether war captives or scholars seeking patronage and gain, were commonly employed by their owners or patrons as teachers for themselves and their children. In fact, despite a certain ambivalence to Greek culture,6 the knowledge of Greek language, literature, and art was increasingly regarded by elite Romans as a mark of refinement and social standing. Moreover, for a long time some disciplines (such as grammar, philosophy, and rhetoric) were taught exclusively by Greek professionals, and so could be studied only by hiring (or owning) a Greek scholar.7 Also, many of these literati were likely to be members of provincial elites or previous members of royal courts and were therefore trained in political and military affairs as well. Thus, they could become valuable advisors for their Roman friends and follow them on military expeditions and diplomatic missions. This was the case with Polybius, who while still in Megalopolis was involved in the affairs of the Achaean league and later in Rome became the political mentor of Scipio Aemilianus (cf. note 1 above).

4 In his defence of the poet Archias, however, Cicero claims that in the Italian cities the study of Greek disciplines was more flourishing in the early years of the first century BC than at his own time (cf. Arch. 5: erat Italia tum plena Graecarum artium ac disciplinarum). According to Yarrow’s interpretation, Cicero is suggesting here that the period of the civil wars brought about a decline in literary appreciation (2006: 26-27). 5 On the circumstances and characteristics of the various flows of intellectuals to Rome see Bowersock 1965: 1-13, 30-41, 2005: 53-62; Rawson 1985: 3-18, 66-99; Sacks 1990: 184-91; Engberg-Pedersen 1993: 285-315; Dueck 2000: 85-106, 130-44; Yarrow 2006: 10-17; Hidber 2011: 122-3; Potter 2011: 316-8. Cf. Gold 1987: 39-67 on early forms of literary patronage at Rome. Yarrow emphasizes the contribution of Greek models to the development of early forms of Latin literature (such as drama and historiography) in the second half of the third century BC, a process which constituted a fundamental stage in the subsequent integration of Greek culture at Rome. 6 On the prejudice against Greek learning see discussion with examples in Rawson 1985: 4 (cf. pp. 84 and 170 on the prejudice against Greek medicine specifically); cf. Edwards 1993: 22-24, 92-97 on the association between moral decline and ‘Hellenization’; cf. Henrichs 1995: 244-50 on the ostentatious ‘anti-Hellenism’ of Cato the Elder; on Roman stereotypes of Greeks cf. Barchiesi 2005: 291-2; Connolly 2007: 141-6; Spawforth 2012: 11-18. 7 On the specific fields of Roman and Greek learning see Rawson 1985: 66-99.

All the great imperatores of the first century BC had Greek intellectuals in their entourage, who, in addition to their teachings and advice, regularly paid homage to their patrons through panegyrics and accounts of their deeds. To quote a few well-known examples, L. Cornelius Sulla and his son Faustus were, according to Suetonius, very attached to the freedman Cornelius Epicadus, who after Sulla’s death completed the final volume of his commentaries, left unfinished by the dictator (Suet. De gram. 12). Pompey the Great was a close acquaintance of two prominent intellectuals of his time, the polymath Posidonius of Apamea and the illustrious politician Theophanes of Mytilene. According to Cicero, the latter received Roman citizenship during a military assembly as a reward for his account of Pompey’s campaigns (Cic. Arch. 24).8 L. Licinius Lucullus had his campaigns narrated by the poet Archias9 and was accompanied by the Academic philosopher Antiochus of Ascalon on official journeys to Sicily, Egypt and Syria. Next, M. Cato, after his travels in the eastern provinces in the sixties BC, brought back to Rome with him the librarian of Pergamum, the Stoic Athenodorus Cordylion of Tarsus. L. Calpurnius Piso (cos. 58 BC) was an intimate friend of the Epicurean Philodemus of Gadara, who stayed in Piso’s villa in Herculaneum and also accompanied him during his governorship of Macedonia. Antiochus’s brother Aristus, in turn, tutored M. Junius Brutus. As a last example for this time period, one may cite C. Julius Caesar, who favoured the activity of a number of provincial scholars; the most famous was probably Theopompus of Cnidus, on whose behalf Caesar bestowed freedom upon Theopompus’s hometown (Plut. Caes. 48).10

1.1.2 The Augustan Age: Dionysius’s ‘Colleagues’

The patterns outlined above did not fade with the fall of the Roman Republic. On the contrary, Augustus’s victory over Antony and the end of the turmoil in the Mediterranean, with the renewed conditions of peace it brought about, opened the way for a large movement of Greek scholars to

8 Posidonius wrote a narrative of Pompey’s deeds as well (Strab. 11.1.6, C 492), in addition to a historical work which started where Polybius’s account left off and was later used as source material by Diodorus Siculus and Strabo. On the relationship between Theophanes of Mytilene and Pompey see Gold 1987: 87-107; cf. Yarrow 2006: 54-67. On Posidonius’s life and activity see Clarke 1999: 347-73; Yarrow 2006: 161-6; Pelling 2007: 250-52. 9 Cicero mentions this particular in his oration in defense of Archias (Cic. Arch. 21), who was accused of having received the Roman citizenship illegally. This charge, which was truly a pretext set up by Pompey’s supporters to annoy Archias’s patron Lucullus, shows how close this kind of intellectual relationships could become (cf. Gold 1987: 73-86). 10 For detailed information about the Greek scholars mentioned in this paragraph and further cases see Bowersock 1965: 1-13; Rawson 1985: 66-99; Yarrow 2006: 23-54; Potter 2011: 317.

Rome, who were attracted to both the possibilities of gain as professionals and the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the capital.11 The princeps himself filled his house with Greek scholars, who acted as teachers and advisors for the imperial family, thus showing his approval of Greek education and setting an example of patronage for other wealthy Romans. The ancient sources mention as protégés of Augustus Apollodorus of Pergamum, who was Augustus’s teacher of rhetoric, the philosopher Areius of Alexandria with his sons Dionysius and Nicanor, and Athenodorus of Tarsus. Augustus hired Greek tutors for the education of his family members as well: the Academic Nestor of Tarsus and Athenaeus of Seleucia tutored M. Claudius Marcellus, and the freedman Theodorus of Gadara was Tiberius’s teacher.12 In addition, the civil wars brought substantial social changes and contributed to the creation of a new, more open ruling class in Rome. Many members of the old Roman aristocracy had died either at Philippi or fighting on Antony’s side, and many new men, especially Italians, now entered the imperial administration with the support of Octavian, who came from an Italian family of equestrian origins himself.13 The new imperial elite thus had a larger and more heterogeneous basis than the late-Republican one through the inclusion of members from the equestrian order and the Italian elites—and eventually from the provincial elites as well. The process of integration of provincial elite members into the imperial administration commenced under Augustus, who in a few instances sponsored the appointment even of prominent provincial intellectuals (besides local elite members) to public offices. Athenodorus of Tarsus, for example, was chosen to settle the affairs in his hometown, and the eques M. Pompeius Macer, the son of Theophanes of Mytilene, was appointed as procurator of the province of Asia.14 Athenodorus was succeeded in the government of Tarsus by another local philosopher, the above cited Nestor. The practice of appointing educated provincials to public offices was not a complete novelty, since Antony had appointed scholars, orators, and even musicians to leading roles in the Eastern provinces that he controlled—even though the literary sources seem more inclined to attribute Antony’s choices to his extravagance than to a sensible administrative policy.15

11 Cf., for instance, Strabo’s reference to the impressive number of scholars from Tarsus and Alexandria at Rome in his time (14.5.15, C 675). Cf. Hidber 2011: 116-7. 12 On Areius cf. Suet. Aug. 89.1; also, Strab. 8.4.3, C 625; Plut. Ant. 80.1; Dio 51.16.4; cf. Bowersock 1965: 33-35. 13 On Augustus’s comparatively humble origins cf. Wiseman 1971: 9-10, 53-54, 84; Galinsky 1996: 377-8; Dench 2005: 114-5. 14 Strab. 14.5.14, C 675 and 13.2.3, C 618. Strabo counts Pompeius Macer among the close friends of Tiberius. 15 Strabo relates a few anecdotes in this respect: Boethus, a “bad poet and bad citizen” who sang the praises of Antony comparing himself to Homer, was appointed gymnasiarch in Tarsus (14.5.14, C 674); Polemon, son of the

Like the great generals of the late Republic, Augustus had his life and deeds immortalized in literary works by Greek scholars. For instance, Suetonius cites as sources for his own Life of Augustus Julius Marathus (Aug. 79.2, 94.3) and Asclepiades of Mendes (Aug. 94.4), who recorded the prodigies connected with Augustus’s birth. Complete biographies of the princeps were compiled by the historians Timagenes of Alexandria and Nicolaus of Damascus; and references to Augustus are also abundant in the geographical work of Strabo of Amasia. Timagenes of Alexandria stands out as a controversial figure among his contemporaries for his bitter hostility towards the Romans and his clash with Augustus. According to the literary sources, Timagenes was initially brought to Rome as a slave in 55 BC by Aulus Gabinus (cos. 58 BC) and was later freed by Faustus Sulla. Eventually he made his way into the Roman elite circles and even opened his own school of rhetoric. Like many Greek intellectuals of this time, Timagenes gravitated towards Antony for a while but changed his allegiance after Antony’s defeat and passed into Octavian’s service. However, it seems that the princeps could not put up with Timagenes’s bluntness for long and expelled him from his house. Timagenes then found shelter with the distinguished politician and historian C. Asinius Pollio—who was known for his pro-Republican feeling and “independence of spirit” 16—and destroyed the biography he had written of Augustus (Sen. Senior Contr. 10.5.22). When Pollio offered to dismiss Timagenes from his house if that was the princeps’s wish, Augustus declined.17 Timagenes is described by Seneca the Elder as a witty man and a prolific writer (Contr. 10.5.22) and is praised by Quintilian for having revived the historiographical genre after a long interval of neglect (Quint. Inst. Or. 10.1.75).18 In fact, among other works Timagenes composed a universal history from the earliest time to his own age.19 The surviving fragments of this history have sometimes been interpreted as a criticism of Roman

rhetorician Zeno, was appointed king of Laodicea (12.8.16, C 578); the grammaticus Nicias of Cos was made tyrant of his island (14.2.19, C 657; Suet. De gram. 14; Bowersock 1965: 45-46); Anaxenor, a cithara-player, was appointed exactor of the tribute from four cities (14.1.41, C 648). Cf. Syme 1979: 571-8; Yarrow 2006: 53-54. On Augustus’s use of provincial intellectuals see Bowersock 1965: 30-31. 16 Adler 2013: 293. 17 On Timagenes’s life and his relationship with Augustus cf. Sen. Senior Contr. 10.5.22; Sen. Minor de Ira 3.23.4- 8. On Timagenes’s proverbial animosity towards Rome cf. Sen. Ep. 91.13: “Timagenes, being hostile to Rome’s prosperity, used to say that the only reason that the conflagrations in Rome caused him grief was because he knew that the things which were going to rise would be better than those which had burnt” (Timagenes, felicitati urbis inimicus, aiebat Romae sibi incendia ob hoc unum dolori esse, quod sciret meliora surrectura quam arsissent). However, the welcoming of Timagenes in several Roman illustrious households despite his professed hostility towards Rome’s domination suggests that overall the Romans were receptive to criticism of their rule or collective behaviour (I owe this observation to Adam Kemezis). 18 Cf. Alonso-Núñez 1982: 133-4. 19 On the scope and significance of ‘universal history’ see comments at n. 39.

foreign policy, and especially the greed of Roman generals.20 Timagenes’s bitterness against Rome may have been motivated by his hellenocentric view of the world, though K.A. Raaflaub and L.J. Samons argue that “the treatment of Timagenes’s case by Augustus indicates violation of amicitia, not serious political opposition to the regime.”21 Dionysius states in his history that many Greek intellectuals of his time held negative opinions about the Romans (RA 1.5.2). This view is shared by Livy, who relates, in a famous digression, that levissimi ex Graecis believed that the Romans would have succumbed to Alexander the Great, had he marched westward, and were inferior to the Parthians (9.18.6-7).22 Dionysius’s and Livy’s stances have been often interpreted as evidence of hostility towards Roman domination and, specifically, as an allusion to Timagenes.23 Like Timagenes, Nicolaus of Damascus also wrote a biography of Augustus and a universal history, which was perhaps the longest historical work ever composed in antiquity.24 Unlike Timagenes, however, Nicolaus did not reside permanently in Rome, but lived most of his life at the court of the Judean client king Herod the Great, whom he served as a loyal advisor. According to the seventh-century AD writer Sophronius of Damascus, Nicolaus had been the teacher of the children of Antony and Cleopatra before coming to the court of Herod (FGrH 90 T 2). Though not confirmed by other sources, this report is not implausible, given that Herod was himself a partisan of Antony until 30 BC.25 At any rate, it is certain that Nicolaus joined Herod’s court no later than 15 BC and participated in at least three embassies to Rome on Herod’s behalf, profiting from his

20 Cf., for instance, the episodes reported in Strab. 4.1.13, C 118; Plut. Pomp. 49.6-7. 21 Raaflaub and Samons 1990: 443. The scholars note, moreover, that as an eastern Timagenes’s slander of Augustus appears rather anomalous; Greek and eastern historians, as professional or court writers, were in fact ostensibly inclined to praise the princeps and, in general, could profit from a monarchy in terms of patronage and personal gain. On the interpretation of Timagenes’s ‘anti-Romanism’ cf. Sordi 1982: 775-97; Alonso-Núñez 1982: 132-5; Raaflaub and Samons 1990: 442-3; Dueck 2000: 135-6; Yarrow 2006: 30-31. Cf. Momigliano 1978: 200-1, on the relationship between history writing and government in Greece and Rome. Cf. also Adler 2011 and 2013: 291-304. Adler analyzes instances of criticism of Roman imperialism in Roman historians, who used enemy speeches in their accounts to question aspects of Roman foreign policy. In his comment to this section, Adam Kemezis has observed that, given the existence of this tendency in Roman historiography, Timagenes’s position could paradoxically bring him closer to the Latin than the Greek historiographical tradition. 22 On Livy’s digression on Alexander see Luce 1965: 221-3 and Forsythe 1999: 114-8. Both scholars argue, based on Livy’s phrasing of the matter and vocabulary, that this passage has not a merely rhetorical purpose, but describes an actual and ongoing matter. 23 Cf. Bowersock 1965: 109-10; Alonso-Núñez 1982: 131-2; Gabba 1991: 192; cf. n. 22 above. 24 His history comprised 144 books, started with the Assyrian king Ninus and ended with the death of Herod in 4 BC. Nicolaus also wrote the earliest known autobiography in Greek and was renowned for his philosophical studies; cf. Suda s.v. Νικόλαος (FGrH 90 F 132). On Nicolaus’s life and activity see Bowersock 1965: 134-8; Gabba 1984b: 61-64; Toher 1989: 159-72; Momigliano 1993: 86-87; Dueck 2000: 133-5; Yarrow 2006: 67-76, 156-61. On Nicolaus’s Life of Augustus see Pausch 2011: 143-62. 25 Cf. Josephus’s account of the meeting between Octavian and Herod at Rhodes right after Actium, in which Herod manifests his deep faith in friendship and gains in this way Octavian’s respect and support (Joseph. AJ 15.187-95).

possible friendly relationship with Augustus and his skill as an orator.26 Nicolaus seems to have been profoundly influenced by his role as a court historian. In particular, the Flavian historian Josephus, who made great use of Nicolaus’s writings for his own historical works, criticizes Nicolaus for being silent on Herod’s disreputable actions and for openly excusing Herod’s misdeeds (AJ 16.179-86). However, to some extent Josephus is inclined to excuse Nicolaus for altering the truth, on the ground that Nicolaus wrote under Herod’s rule and in his service (AJ 16.183).27 In spite of the flattery paid to Herod, Nicolaus is widely considered an acute and well- informed writer on the basis of the extant fragments of his works. Liv Yarrow points out how Rome is neither chronologically nor geographically central to Nicolaus’s universal history, even though Nicolaus appears to acknowledge the role of Rome in the Mediterranean and of Augustus at the head of the empire.28 Also, it seems that Nicolaus’s biography of Augustus presented the princeps in terms which linked him to Alexander the Great and the successive Hellenistic kings, and that much attention was given in it to Augustus’s education, thus pointing to both Greek precedents for Nicolaus’s work29 and cultured Greeks as its primary audience. Strabo also spent several years in Rome between 44 BC and his death around 23 AD. He was descended from a wealthy and influential family in Amasia in Pontus, on the south-eastern coast of the Black Sea. A few members of his family had served in the royal household of Mithridates, but during the last Mithridatic War Strabo’s grandfather switched to the Roman side. Strabo’s literary production comprises a history in forty-seven books (surviving only in fragments), which was conceived as a continuation of Polybius’s history, and the Geography in

26 The embassies to Rome took place: in 12 BC; in 8 BC to appease Augustus after Herod’s lack of collaboration during the Roman invasion of Arabia; and in 4 BC to advocate Herod’s choice in the royal succession (FGrH 90 F 135, F 136, T 5, and T 8). Yarrow (2006: 72-76) seems rather skeptical about the possibility of a close friendship between Augustus and Nicolaus and suggests that the details acquired by Nicolaus on Augustus’s life could have been available to him through other sources than his acquaintance with the emperor, such as Augustus’s autobiography. The latter was published around 25-20 BC and related Augustus’s deeds down to the Cantabrian War in 26 BC (cf. Suet. Aug. 85.1; Yavetz 1984: 1-8). 27 Elsewhere, Josephus alleges that Nicolaus even made up the king’s ancestry in order to please him (AJ 14.8-9). On Nicolaus as source of Josephus see Toher 2003: 427-47; Landau 2005: 159-81. 28 The mentions of a magnificent embassy to Rome from India and of Caesar’s unfulfilled desire to subjugate India and Parthia suggest that Nicolaus did not have a Romanocentric view of the ecumene, but instead was aware of the existence of vast territories and empires that laid outside Roman control (Yarrow 2006: 128-9, 158-9). For the epitaph of Caesar see FGrH 90 F 130.26. The story of Nicolaus witnessing an embassy from India at Antioch is related by Strabo 15.1.73, C 719 (cf. Dio 54.9.8). According to Strabo, the letter that the ambassadors were carrying to Rome and that Nicolaus read reported that the Indian king Porus, although he ruled already over six hundred kings, wanted nevertheless to become friend with Augustus as well. 29 A conceivable model is Xenophon’s Cyropaedia and the numerous Hellenistic biographies of Alexander the Great and his successors, which seemingly focused on the early years of their protagonists’ life. Cf. Momigliano 1993: 86- 91; Pausch 2011: 143-62.

seventeen books, which relates physical, ethnographic, and political characteristics of all the inhabited world region by region. Strabo travelled extensively throughout the Mediterranean and visited many of the places he documented in his Geography. During his stays in Rome, he became acquainted with several prominent Romans, like P. Servilius Isauricus (cos. 79 BC, whom Strabo met as a youth), Cn. Calpurnius Piso (cos. 7 BC), and especially C. Aelius Gallus. The latter is referred to as a dear friend, and Strabo accompanied him to Egypt when Gallus became governor of that province in the mid-twenties BC (Strab. 2.5.12, C 188) and later to Arabia where Gallus led a disastrous military campaign (Strab. 16.4.22-24, C 780-2).30 Numerous allusions to Augustus and his deeds are scattered throughout Strabo’s Geography. Augustus is presented in a very favourable light by Strabo, who emphasizes both Augustus’s achievements in foreign policy and his humane character. Augustus is mentioned particularly for his conquests, his restoration of peace and order, and his building activities. As Daniela Dueck has noted, these elements of Augustus’s policy closely reflect the image of Augustus that emerges from the Res gestae, which Strabo may have seen and used as a source.31 In addition, Strabo remarks on Augustus’s superior education and his goodwill towards Greek scholars, many of whom benefited from their friendship with the princeps.32 According to Strabo, Augustus’s favouring of Greek culture was also signalled by his respect for Greek works of art, which distanced Augustus from the greed of previous Roman generals (including Antony), who pillaged the Greek cities.33 Augustus is thus depicted in panegyrical tones, even though the Romans overall are considered by Strabo as culturally inferior or at any rate heavily indebted to the Greeks in many fields of knowledge.34 On the other hand, when compared to non-Greek states, the Roman and Greek nations are presented together by

30 Strabo cites a conversation with Piso as a source for his description of Libya (2.55.33, C 130), and elsewhere calls Isauricus his acquaintance (12.6.2, C 568; cf. 14.3.3, C 665; Dueck 2000: 87-88). On Strabo’s life and background see Bowersock 1965: 127-9; Clarke 1999: 193-210; Dueck 2000: 1-30, 85-96. 31 Dueck 2000: 96-106. For accounts of Augustus’s campaigns in Strabo see, e.g., 3.3.8, C 156; 6.4.2, C 287 (Cantabrians); 4.6.7, C 205 (Salassi); 4.6.10, C 207; 7.5.4, C 314 (Illyri); 6.4.2, C 287 (Cisalpine and Transalpine Gauls); 7.3.11, C 304 (Getae); 7.5.5, C 315 (Dalmatians). Examples of Augustus’s mercy and order-bringing acts are related at 4.6.6, C 204; 14.1.23, C 641; 7.1.4, C 291; 6.1.6, C 259. Augustus’s building interventions and foundations are mentioned, e.g., at 6.2.4, C 270; 6.2.4, C 272; 7.7.5–6, C 324–5; 12.8.18, C 579; 4.6.6, C 204—all commented by Dueck, ibid. Augustus lists the nations he subdued and reassessed at RG 26-30 (see Cooley 2007: 219-49 for a commentary on these passages). Augustus’s building activities are related at RG 19-21, which list all the monuments that Augustus constructed or restored in Rome (cf. Suet. Aug. 29-30). On the monuments described in the RG see Elsner 1996: 42-47; Cooley 2007: 182-200; Orlin 2016: 115-44. 32 On the intellectuals at Augustus’s service see Strab. 13.4.3, C 625 (Apollodorus of Pergamum); 14.5.4, C670 (Xenarchus of Seleucia); 14.5.14, C 674 (Athenodorus of Tarsus); cf. Suet. Aug. 89. 33 Strab. 13.1.30, C 595; 14.1.4, C 637; 14.2.19, C 657; cf. RG 24.1, where Augustus claims to have reinstated dedications into temples of conquered Asian cities. On these passages in Strabo, see Dueck 2000: 99-100, 121-2. 34 Cf. Dueck 2006: 81-84.

Strabo as the central, most civilized area of the ecumene. Conversely, the most barbaric nations are those that lie at the margins, that is, furthest from Rome.35 Strabo’s Geography, then, was not a mere description of territories and peoples, but was political in nature and reflected Strabo’s conception of the civilizing role of the Roman Empire. In fact, unlike Timagenes, who discounted the Romans as barbarians, and Nicolaus, who admitted the co-existence of other empires that are just as powerful, Strabo took for granted the world supremacy of the Romans and contended that Italy was naturally the nation best-suited to world hegemony because of its geographical characteristics, temperate climate, and virtuous inhabitants (Strab. 6.4.1, C 286).36 Strabo’s ideas that the Romans were receptive to Greek culture (even if less refined than the Greeks), spread civilization over barbarian tribes, and were the most apt for world domination are very close to the views held by Dionysius (which will be discussed in the next chapter). Moreover, both writers assign political and didactic aims to their work, and they address the same class of readers (that is, men in public life with an interest in philosophy; cf. Strab. 1.1.22-23; RA 1.8.3).37 Not all the Greek intellectuals of the late first century BC wrote about Augustus or exalted the providential role of the Roman Empire, nor were all the contemporary educated Greeks at Rome involved in politics or socially connected with members of the Roman elite. Diodorus of Agyrum in Sicily, for instance, represents a case of intellectual isolation in the contemporary literary milieu. Diodorus came to Rome around 56 BC and resided there until (at least) 30 BC. Conceivably a man of substantial wealth, Diodorus neither had to earn his living by tutoring nor needed the financial protection of a patron. Also, Diodorus never mentions any friend or dedicatee in his historical work, suggesting that he worked independently.38 Like other contemporary writers—such as Timagenes, Pompeius Trogus and Nicolaus of Damascus—Diodorus composed a universal history, the Library in forty books, which relates the events from mythological times down to 60 BC and centered on Greek and Roman affairs.39 Consistent with the universal scope

35 Cf. Strabo’s use of the personal pronoun ‘we’ to contrast the Romans with the Britons (2.5.8, C 116) and the Gauls (4.4.5, C 198; cf. Dueck 2000: 75-84; Swain 1996: 313-4, n. 56). 36 On the purpose and nature of Strabo’s Geography see Bowersock 1965: 128; Nicolet 1991: 73-4; Clarke 1999: 294-307; Dueck 2000: 154-65; Woolf 2005: 118-9. On the centrality of Italy in Strabo’s political geography see Clarke 1999: 210-28; Dueck 2000: 107-29, 172-3. 37 Cf. Gabba 1991: 48-52. Dionysius’s audience is discussed at chap. 2.1.3 c. 38 On Diodorus’s life and work see Sacks 1990, esp. 160-203; Ando 1999: 24-25; Yarrow 2006: 88-89, 152-6; cf. Bowersock 1965: 122 n. 2, who does not count Diodorus as an Augustan historian but includes him in the late Republican tradition. 39 Much of the literature of the late Republican and early Augustan periods seems to reflect the contemporary Roman aspiration to global rule. “To write universally” (Polyb. 5.33.2) also included narratives which were

of his work, Diodorus attempted to integrate different chronological systems and thus to synchronize Roman consular years with the Greek dating systems by Athenian archons and by Olympic years—although the result is often inaccurate.40 Diodorus’s narrative appears to follow some recurrent patterns, such as the cycle of rise and fall of world empires, and it gives constant attention to individual deeds of great men. For Diodorus, history writing had a moralizing and didactic function, namely, to show the reader the sorts of behaviour that could cause empires to fall, and to offer the failures and successes of great figures as models to reflect upon.41 In accordance with this conception, Rome is placed in the pattern of the ongoing succession of world empires, and the deeds of Roman characters are often emphasized for their exemplary nature.42 However, even though Diodorus acknowledges some benefits in being a subject of the Romans, his overall assessment of Roman rule is negative and he frequently criticizes the Romans for their moral decay and brutal treatment of the conquered nations. Conceivably, Diodorus’s discontent with Roman domination was triggered by the contemporary situation in his native land, and specifically by Augustus’s harsh treatment of many Sicilian cities and his revocation of the Latin rights granted by Caesar. In 43 BC, Sex. Pompeius took control over Sicily and during the seven years of his rule caused severe financial losses for the island. After Octavian finally crushed Pompeius’s fleet and gained possession of Sicily, he severely punished the cities which had lent their support to Pompeius. Not only did Octavian revoke the Latin rights, but he also imposed monetary fines, confiscation of lands, executions, and deportation of citizens.43 As a consequence, Diodorus’s feeling toward Caesar’s heir could hardly have been favourable. This may also explain why Diodorus praises Caesar extensively in his Library but is mostly silent about Octavian.44

universal in geographic scope but covered a limited time period. In this sense, also Polybius, Posidonius and Strabo composed universal histories (Marincola 2007: 171-9). Cf. Nicolet 1991, esp. 29-56; Clarke 1999: 114-28; Dueck 2000: 49-53; Yarrow 2006: 124-9; Muntz 2017: 27-56. As Yarrow observes, placing Roman history in a universal framework could be also a way to unveil the fallacy of Roman claims to world domination by highlighting the existence of other empires or regions unconquered by the Romans. 40 Cf. Sacks 1990: 64-66; Marincola 2007: 176-7; Potter 2011: 319-20. 41 As stated in the proemium at 1.1.2. On Diodorus’s conception of history writing see Sacks 1990: 23-54; Hau 2016: 73-123 (with specific reference to Diodorus’ “moral didacticism”); Muntz 2017, esp. 57-88. See also Romilly’s seminal work on the patterns of rise and fall of empires in the work of Greek historians (1977). 42 Most notably those of Julius Caesar, who is frequently eulogized in the course of Diodorus’s history (cf., e.g., Diod. 32.27.3; Sacks 1990: 172-84). Conversely, Romulus and L. Junius Brutus are ambiguously portrayed (respectively, Diod. 8.5-6; Yarrow 2006: 171-2; and Diod. 10.22; Yarrow 2006: 184-5). 43 Cf. Wilson 1996: 434-42. On Sex. Pompeius in Sicily see Powell 2002: 103-33 and Stone 2002: 135-65. 44 The numerous eulogizing allusions to Caesar’s activities in the Library may be intended precisely to contrast with the character and faults of Caesar’s heir. On Diodorus’s feeling towards Rome see Sacks 1990: 117-59, 191-203.

1.2 Latin Historiography of the Augustan Age: Livy and Pompeius Trogus

In this section, I outline some basic tendencies of Latin language historiography, in order to give a broader perspective on the literary activity of Dionysius’s contemporaries and Rome’s intellectual milieu in general. Freedom of expression under Augustus’s rule constitutes a highly debated topic, whose treatment goes beyond the scope of this thesis. The previously mentioned case of Timagenes indicates that Augustus showed a certain degree of tolerance to controversial intellectual positions, at least in the early years of his rule. Later historians, however, tend to depict the beginning of the Principate as the end of free and unbiased expression. Both Tacitus and Cassius Dio emphasize the difficulties of writing about contemporary events under Augustus’s Principate. Tacitus observes that, although the Augustan age did not lack capable minds, the increasing atmosphere of flattery deterred them from writing a reliable account of their time (Tac. Ann. 1.1). Dio, on the other hand, notes the scarcity of information made available to the public after the change of constitution: the majority of events started to be kept secret, and even when divulged they were unverifiable (Dio 53.19.3-5).45 Alternatively, it has been suggested that Augustus’s acclaimed tolerance (cf. Sen. Contr. 2.4.13; Tac. Ann. 4.34; Macr. 2.4.19-21) vanished with the advancing of old age.46 The historian T. Labienus and the orator Cassius Severus, for instance, were both charged for their excessive freedom of speech towards the end of Augustus’s life. Labienus committed suicide, while Severus was exiled. Both had their writings burned by senatorial decree. As M. Toher has underscored, T. Labienus appears to have been well-disposed to Pompey in his earlier career and used to profess openly his anti-monarchical feelings; in fact, he was nicknamed Rabienus for his extreme frankness (Sen. Contr. 10.1.5) and was eventually charged with treason. Cassius Severus, for his part, apparently provoked Augustus’s anger for having defamed several people of repute (Tac. Ann. 1.72).47 Latin-language historiography was already undergoing significant changes by the time Augustus came to power. A chief characteristic of Roman historiography under the Republic had

45 Cf. Suet. Aug. 36.1: Augustus apparently prohibited the publication of the acta senatus, an innovation introduced a few years before by his adoptive father (cf. Gowing 2005: 17). 46 Cf. Raaflaub and Samons 1990: 440-1. 47 Toher 1990: 140-4. On the intellectual opposition against the Augustan regime cf. Alonso-Núñez 1982: 131-41; Raaflaub-Samons 1990: 436-47. Ovid’s exile ought to be briefly mentioned in this context. The grounds for his loss of favour with the princeps were seemingly a carmen (likely the Ars amatoria) and an error (Ov. Tr. 2.207-11, 3.6; cf. White 1993: 152-4). While the error has not been identified, Toher has argued for a moral offence, suggesting that Augustus may have been little inclined to overlook this sort of transgressions (ibid, 142; cf. Feeney 1992: 1-25).

been its close connection with politics. Initially, most Roman historians were members of the senatorial class, and their literary works were largely informed by their active involvement in the administration, the military, and the struggle for offices.48 This trend gradually changed during the first century BC, with the emergence of historians who had no public experience and took no personal role in politics outside of their writing—such as Q. Claudius Quadrigarius and Valerius Antias and, a generation later, Livy.49 In terms of subject matter, mid-Republican historiography had generally focused on the collective deeds of the Roman people, giving little space to the glorification of a single personality’s deeds, the extreme example of this tendency being Cato’s history, which disregarded systematically the personal names of magistrates and generals (Pliny NH 8.11).50 In the late Republic, on the other hand, it became increasingly fashionable to publish accounts of individual deeds (even autobiographical), and especially those concerning the conduct of war campaigns, like M. Aemilius Scaurus’s and P. Rutilius Rufus’s autobiographies, Sulla’s lost commentaries, Caesar’s narrative of his campaigns in Gaul and against the Republicans, and Sallust’s accounts of the wars against Catiline and Jugurtha. Broadly speaking, these changes reflected the appearance of influential leaders on the political scene in the turbulent decades of civil conflict—which culminated with Augustus’s victory—and the gradual loss of interest (or reluctance) in writing history by members of the ruling class (cf. Tac. Hist. 1.1).51 After the civil wars, there followed a gap in historical narrative. Most Roman writers of contemporary history, such as Messalla Corvinus, Q. Dellius, Asinius Pollio, T. Labienus, and possibly Cassius Severus, concluded their accounts either with Philippi or Actium.52 In Odes 2.1, Horace addresses Asinius Pollio on the subject of his history (namely, the civil wars) and warns him about the risks connected with this task, suggesting that certain topics were not safe to discuss. Since Livy’s account of Rome’s early beginnings has been preserved in its entirety, this work offers a most obvious comparison for the Roman Antiquities. Livy came from a wealthy

48 On this tradition of ‘active historiography’ cf. Fornara 1983: 49-55. 49 Badian 1966: 18-22; Ogilvie and Drummond 1990: 8-9; also, Forsythe 2005: 63-64. 50 Badian 1966: 7-11; Mehl 2011: 33-62. 51 Raaflaub-Samons 1990: 437-8; Toher 1990: 146-5; Mehl 2011: 63-84. 52 Apparently only Livy and Pompeius Trogus included the period of Augustus’s early rule in their history, but both focused mainly on Augustus’s foreign campaigns and overlooked events in Rome (Toher 1990: 143-4, 151). Messalla Corvinus had a strong pro-Republican and anti-Caesarian background before passing to Augustus’s side. Dellius had been a close friend of Antony and wrote an account of his campaign in Parthia. Pollio wrote 17 books of Histories on the civil wars, relating the events from the first triumvirate (60 BC) to Philippi (42 BC). Cf. Raaflaub- Samons 1990: 438-41. On the general development of Roman historiography under Augustus see Toher 1990: 139- 54; Levene 2007: 275-89; Mehl 2011: 98-120. On the historians’ attitude towards Augustus cf. Gabba 1984b: 61-88.

family from Patavium in Cisalpine Gaul, a region that retained its status as a Roman province until 42 BC (when it officially became part of Italy). Livy moved to Rome probably in the late thirties BC and there may have become acquainted with Augustus (Octavian at the time), as implied by Livy himself in his history (cf. 4.20.7).53 Seemingly, Livy had pro-Republican feelings. Tacitus indeed has Cremutius Cordus state in his defense speech that Augustus styled Livy “the Pompeian” for his praise of Pompey, but this did not compromise their friendship (Tac. Ann. 4.34).54 Livy could probably count on sufficient financial means to live independently and so devoted most of his life to intellectual activity. He never held any offices or served in the military, but in spite of this lack of experience in administrative and military affairs, he undertook the composition of a colossal historical work on Rome. His limited familiarity with political matters often results, in his text, in a failure to understand their procedures and dynamics, and in an idealized description of the senate’s functions. The 142 books of Livy’s work encompassed the whole history of Rome from its foundation to the death of Augustus’s stepson Drusus in 9 BC. The material was organized by the annalistic principle (that is, in a year by year chronicle), which had been the most common one among Roman historians since the third century BC. The early history of the city was treated summarily: Livy covered the whole regal age in just one book, while the narrative progressively expanded as it advanced towards the present.55 In the preface to his work, possibly written in the early twenties BC,56 Livy makes moralizing remarks about the degeneracy of his time, which he presents as the low point of decline reached by Roman society, as opposed to the high standards of morality upheld in the distant past. The study of early Roman history is rhetorically described as a refuge from such evils, on the grounds that the early Romans had not been corrupted by vices yet (praef. 5).57 Rome’s early past

53 Livy enjoyed a vast popularity as a writer during his lifetime (cf. Pliny NH praef. 16; Pliny Ep. 2.3.8). According to Suetonius (Claud. 41.1), Claudius began to write history in his youth under Livy’s influence. 54 According to Cassius Dio (56.34.3) Pompey’s image was paraded during Augustus’s funeral, suggesting that Augustus actually held respect for the figure of Magnus, or—as Christopher Mackay has rightly observed—he felt it expedient to pretend to. 55 Livy comments on the pace of his narrative at the beginning of Book 31 (cf. Liv. 31.1.1-5). For a general overview of Livy’s life and activity see Galinsky 1996: 280-7; Levene 2007: 283-6; Mehl 2011: 100-9. See notes 56, 58-62, 64-70 for bibliographical references on specific matters in Livy’s work. 56 On the dating of Livy’s preface and first pentad/decade, see Luce 1965: 209-40; Woodman 1988: 128-35; Galinsky 1996: 281-2; Burton 2000: 429-46. 57 On the other hand, denunciation of human vices and neglect of religion, and by contrast praise of the ancients’ moderation and frugality, were recurrent topoi in the Late Republican literature. Cf., for instance, Cicero’s attacks against Verres, Clodius, and Catiline, as well as Sallust’s bitter judgments in Cat. 7.4-7, 8.5-12.5, and Hist. 1.11-12, 1.16 (cf. Lintott 1972: 626-38; Levick 1982: 53-62; Edwards 1993, esp. 42-47; Wallace-Hadrill 1997: 9-12). By the time of the last civil war, then, the theme of generalized corruption of mores reached apocalyptic tones in the work

and its recent present thus appear closely interconnected, constituting—to quote Ann Vasaly—the “two reference points”58 for Livy’s history. Livy is conscious that beginning his work with the most ancient legends about Rome will cause him methodological problems because of the impossibility of proving the veracity of such accounts, but he refrains from stating his opinion on this matter (praef. 6-7). In fact, he admits his indifference to the actual occurrence of remote events:59 the real usefulness of those stories lies in their moral message, that is, the illustration of the mores and means by which Rome increased its power.60 His history, he claims, will be profitable on account of its didactic function, and specifically of its presenting past events—both positive and negative—as paradigms of behavior for his readers (praef. 8-10).61 In spite of the pessimistic attitude towards the present moral decay, Livy manifests a deep patriotic faith in his country. At the end of the preface, for instance, he names Rome as the greatest nation known to him, the richest in examples of virtue, and the place where vices arrived last (praef. 11-12). In another passage, the speech in support of marriage between patricians and plebeians, Livy has the tribune Canuleius call Rome “the city founded for eternity” and emphasize how its advancement was made possible by the continuous innovation and adaptability of its institutions (4.4). Particularly useful to show Livy’s patriotic sentiment is the speech pronounced by M. Furius Camillus, the conqueror of Veii, at the end of Book Five, which highlights the sacredness of the city of Rome and the importance of its religious spaces and practices; neglect of religion, together with laxity of mores, is characterized as inevitably leading to failure and military defeat, while proper worship and piety eventually bring victory and prosperity (5.51-54).62 This subject was quite popular in late Republican and early Augustan literature, signalling a demand

of Virgil and Horace, who both lament that the Romans with their scelus (i.e., the fraternal bloodshed) triggered the wrath of the gods and dragged the country to ruin (cf., in particular, Verg. Georg. 1.466-514; Hor. Carm. 1.2; Wallace-Hadrill 2004: 159-76). 58 Vasaly 2015: 24. 59 Vasaly (2015: 26-28) underscores the uniqueness of this claim, observing that Livy’s stance runs counter to a long tradition of historians who made a point of distinguishing factual truth from legends. 60 Cf. Vasaly 2015: 29-30: “These topics are claimed to be didactically relevant specifically because of their contribution to the understanding of how Rome acquired and enlarged its political/military power.” 61 On Livy’s preface see, e.g., Woodman 1988: 128-34; Moles 1993: 141-68; Miles 1995: 14-20, 76-79; Forsythe 1999: 41-43, 65; Mineo 2015b: 139-40; Vasaly 2015: 22-35. On Livy’s approach to legendary material see Forsythe 1999: 40-51; Vasaly 2002: 275-7. On Livy’s use of exempla see Chaplin 2000, 2015: 102-13; cf. also Roller 2009: 214-30 on ‘exemplarity’ in Roman historiography. 62 This notion is stated also in the narrative of the Second Punic War, in which Q. Fabius Maximus attributes the previous defeat of the Romans against the Carthaginian army to the disregard of the consul Flaminius for the auspicia and his religious duties (Liv. 22.9.7-8). The speech of Camillus is discussed at chap. 5.2.1 (with bibliographical references). On the patriotic sentiment expressed in Livy’s history cf. Chaplin 2000, esp. 32-49, 106- 36; on Livy’s political views and their background see Mineo 2015a: 125-38, 2015b: 139-52.

for religious revival as part of the general ‘restoration’ of mores. Augustus did not fail to meet this expectation. In his work, Livy refers to him as templorum omnium conditor aut restitutor (4.20.7) for his efforts in renovating most of Rome’s oldest temples and in revitalizing old religious practices and priesthoods.63 The comparison between Livy and Dionysius has been subject of many studies in the last three decades, of which I cite the most significant ones. Gabba touches upon this topic only briefly, yet he makes some significant remarks. The greatest divergence between them, Gabba maintains, is their attitude towards the present. Livy displays a pessimistic vision of history, which was alien to the atmosphere of the new regime; in spite of the ‘happy’ conclusion of the civil wars, Livy frequently portrays the present time as decadent.64 His concerns were principally moral and centered on the decline of Roman society in comparison with its distant past. Dionysius, on the other hand, had a wider perspective on the role of Rome in history, in that he envisioned the rise “of new ruling classes within a universal empire.”65 In his progressive and optimistic view, Dionysius—and not Livy—is regarded as the ‘Augustan’ historian of the two.66 T.J. Luce has analyzed in particular Livy’s and Dionysius’s different approaches to their sources and their views on the causes of Rome’s rise to greatness. On the first point, Luce contrasts the profusion of details of Dionysius in reporting legendary events, often without questioning the reliability of his sources (and in fact asserting it), with Livy’s open admission of the impossibility of proving the truthfulness of the most ancient material, which he accepts more as folklore than historical evidence. The second major divergence that Luce stresses between the two historians concerns the Greek character of the Romans, which (as I shall discuss in Chapter Two) was the core of Dionysius’s project. Dionysius depicts Rome’s early history through the noble exploits of the Roman statesmen and generals, whose characterization is imbued with Greek precedents and ideological elements from Greek Classical authors. Livy, on the other hand, shows strong aversion to foreigners and foreign practices and tends to downplay the Greek contribution to the early

63 On the revival of ancestral rites cf. RG 7.3, 19.1, 13, 22.2; Suet. Aug. 31.4. On the renovation of public temples cf. RG 19, 20.4; Liv. 4.20.7; Ov. Fast. 2.59-66; Suet. Aug. 30.2; Gros 1976: 21-22. For an overview of Roman religion under the Augustan Principate cf., e.g., Galinsky 1996: 288-331, 2007: 71-82; Price 1996: 812-47; Beard, North, and Price 1998: 167-210; Gradel 2002: 109-39; Gordon 2003: 62-83; Scheid 2005: 175-93; Cooley 2006: 228-52; Orlin 2007: 73-92. See also observations below, chap. 1.3. 64 In this regard, Forsythe (1999: 65) observes: “These Livian remarks are not idle animadversions set forth merely to grace his preface with customary tropes. Rather, as made clear from numerous stories in the narrative itself, they accurately reflect Livy’s most strongly held convictions.” 65 Gabba 1991: 22. 66 See Gabba 1991: 20-22, 93-96; contra Luce 1995: 235-6.

development of the city, often polemically contrasting Greek and Roman values.67 Livy, moreover, presents the rise of Rome in terms of gradual development from humble beginnings, whereas Dionysius vehemently denies a developmental phase for the early Romans.68 In a more recent contribution, S.P. Oakley has focused on Livy’s and Dionysius’s accounts of the triple combat of the Horatii and Curiatii in order to highlight the differences in their styles and historiographical techniques. In particular, Oakley emphasizes Dionysius’s practice of giving extensive accounts of the historical events as opposed to Livy’s tendency to abbreviate the annalistic material and his ability to concisely present vivid descriptions (even psychological) of his characters.69 An important difference between the two historians in terms of the characters and episodes I examine is investigated by Gary Miles.70 Building on Luce’s argument, Miles points out how Livy envisioned Rome’s institutional development and expansion through several acts of refoundation by individual conditores, who brought about historical changes with their innovations. In contrast, Dionysius names only Romulus as founder. To quote Miles, “Inasmuch as Dionysius equates Rome’s founders with a single generation of settlers and in particular with their leader, he tends also to attribute as many important institutions as possible to that initial stage in the nation’s history.”71 This aspect will prove particularly relevant in the analysis of Romulus’s and Numa’s reigns (on which see, respectively, chapters 4.2 and 4.3).72 Before concluding this section, I will briefly mention the activity of another Latin historian, whose work also covers Rome’s early history and will thus be compared, where appropriate, with Dionysius’s account. Pompeius Trogus shared with Livy his failure to pursue a public career. Trogus devoted himself to intellectual life and, specifically, wrote the Historiae Philippicae in 44 books, which unfortunately survives only in the third-century epitome by Justin. Trogus’s work is the first universal history written in Latin. In his preface, Justin emphasizes the originality of this

67 In fact, as Luce has shown, Livy ties the beginning of Roman decline specifically to the cultural contacts with the Greek world (Luce 1977: 250-94; cf. Roller 2009: 227-8; Mineo 2015b: 143-4; on Livy’s portrait of foreign people see Bernard 2015: 39-51). 68 Luce 1995: 225-37. 69 Oakley 2010: 118-38; cf. Champion 2015: 198-201, who in part repeats Oakley’s arguments. On the comparison between Livy and Dionysius see also Edlund 1980: 26-30; Gärtner 1989: 217-25. 70 Miles 1995. 71 Miles 1988: 198 = 1995: 124, cf. 110-78. 72 Other specific differences between the two authors will be highlighted in the analyses of the single episodes treated. As for the question if Dionysius had read Livy, it is reasonable to assume that he had, for Livy’s first decade, as stated above, was published at the time Dionysius was doing research for his own historical work; cf. Gabba 1991: 95.

achievement, especially because many illustrious Romans had transmitted the deeds of their ancestors in the Greek language. The subject of Trogus’s work was supposedly the history of the Macedonian empire (hence its title evoking Theopompus’s histories), but its content actually embraced the events concerning the rise and fall of all the empires that in turn dominated the Mediterranean world. Trogus arranged his narrative precisely according to the succession of empires, beginning with the Assyrians and concluding with Rome and the Parthians, that is, the two most powerful states at the time he was writing. Trogus recognized that Rome was not the greatest or the only powerful nation, but had to confront the equal power of Parthia in the East.73 Also, the narrative of the origins of Rome is postponed until the end of the work (Book 43) and is introduced with a remark by Justin stating that Trogus would have been an ungrateful citizen if he had been silent about his country after relating the history of all the Eastern nations, nor could he leave unnoticed the origins of the city which was then the caput totius orbis (Just. 43.1.1-2). However, these characteristics do not necessarily indicate an anti-Roman attitude—as scholars in the past commonly thought.74 Overall, Trogus does not appear to share the enthusiastic view of Strabo and Dionysius about the providential role of Rome in history, but he rather looks at the Roman dominion with a more ‘objective’ perspective that, while not discounting its supremacy, does not overlook the power of other nations either, nor does it take the possible Roman conquest of Parthia for granted. Therefore, the epitome of his work will provide, in a few instances, a different viewpoint on the episodes and characters examined.

1.3 Augustus and the Roman Ancestors

In this section, I briefly introduce the role of the maiores (“the ancestors”) in Augustus’s political programme. The argument of this thesis (outlined in detail at chap. 2.2.2) investigates Dionysius’s presentation of great Romans of the past, namely, personalities regarded as the common ancestors

73 Cf., e.g., Just. 41.1.1 on Parthia, and 42.2.7-8 on Armenia. See Alonso-Núñez 1987: 63-65. 74 Cf., in particular, Alonso-Núñez 1982: 134-5, 1987: 65-66; Develin 1985: 110-5. Yarrow argues that Trogus delayed the account of Roman history in compliance with the structure of his project: either 1) he envisioned Rome as the last empire, together with the Parthians, which rose to world supremacy; or 2) he followed a principle of geographical organization moving westwards in the description of the various countries (Yarrow 2006: 149-52; cf. Levene 2007: 287-9; Adler 2011: 296-8, 2013: 37-58). On the other hand, Andreas Mehl interprets the concluding portion of Trogus’s text, which relates Augustus’s campaign in Spain, as a praise of Augustus and Roman imperialism, since Trogus refers to Augustus’s campaign as the reduction of a barbarous land into a civilized province regulated by laws, thus seemingly recognizing Rome’s civilizing mission (Just. 44.5.8; Mehl 2011: 116-9).

of the Romans and, in a few instances, as Augustus’s own ancestors.75 It is therefore necessary, in order to fully appreciate the implications of Dionysius’s ideas in context, to consider the contemporary outlook on the Roman maiores and their role in shaping the Romans’ conception of their past, as well as Augustus’s political use of the maiores in his ‘restoration’ of the res publica. The significance of the ancestors’ imagery for the Romans has been conveniently explicated by Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, who identifies three general categories of its use.76 The first comprises the cult of individual ancestors as a distinctive practice of the Roman nobility. The display of forefathers’ images at funerals and in the atria of their houses, accompanied by laudatory speeches and inscriptions—as Polybius (6.53-4) and Sallust (Jug. 4.5-6) eloquently describe—provided the members of aristocratic families with exempla to emulate and an effective means for self-promotion. During the middle and late Republic, the exploitation of family ancestry for political aims reached new peaks, with members of prominent families—like the Claudii, the Aemilii, the Fabii, and the Scipiones—erecting commemorative arches, statues, and monumental tombs, or placing their ancestors’ masks in public buildings (cf. Pliny NH 35.4). References to family ancestors’ deeds (and, by the end of the Republic, their portraits as well) even began to appear on coins from the late second century BC. At the same time, according to the second category identified by Wallace-Hadrill, the Roman forefathers as a broad group were appealed to as the common ancestors of all Romans, and their customs, the mores maiorum, were frequently cited (especially in public oratory) as precedents and standards of conduct.77 Thirdly, the ancestors, again as a wide category, were nostalgically regarded as the paradigm for an idealized past, which by contrast highlighted the ‘decadent’ morals of the present. The last function received great emphasis during the late Republic. Romans writing at this time often lamented the condition of decline in which the ancestral mores had allegedly fallen in the years of the civil struggles and, more or less explicitly, ascribed its cause to the ruling class’s carelessness. To quote only a few examples, M. Terentius Varro,78 in compiling his collection of ancient religious material, claimed to have saved the Roman gods “from the negligence of the citizens” (civium neglegentia), comparing his work to the deeds of Metellus and Aeneas, who had rescued the Roman sacra from certain destruction (apud Aug. Civ. Dei 6.2.248). Next, in a famous

75 Specific considerations on the characters taken into account in this thesis will be made case by case. 76 Wallace-Hadrill 2008: 218-31. 77 On this point cf. also Miles 1995: 114. 78 On Varro’s antiquarian research cf. Rawson 1985: 312-6; Edwards 1996: 4-6, 16-17.

and highly evocative passage from the Republic, which I quote below, Cicero complains about the complete neglect of his contemporaries in keeping the customs inherited from their ancestors, bitterly observing that due to their vices the Republic was surviving only as an empty name:

But our age, having received the res publica as an excellent painting, but one already fading away because of old age, not only has neglected to refresh it with those colours that it had had, but it has not even bothered to preserve at least its shape and, as it were, external outlines. For what remains of those ancient customs which [Ennius] said that the Roman state rested upon? We see them so obsolete because of forgetfulness, that they are not only not cultivated, but are now not even known ... In fact, through our vices, not through any accident, we retain the res publica in name, but we lost it long ago in reality.79

Sallust, who was active around the same period, reports with much harshness, in his account of the war against Jugurtha (Jug. 4.5-9), that the Romans of old would strive to equal the achievements of their ancestors and would feel inspired at the sight of their wax masks (cf. 4.5, vehementissume sibi animum ad virtutem accendi), whereas now men would only compete in riches and luxury with their ancestors (cf. 4.7, divitiis et sumptibus, non probitate neque industria). While representing a common literary topos, the criticism of current deviations from the ancestral practice may also have been caused by the atmosphere of anxiety and disruption that pervaded Roman society at many levels during the years of the civil wars. Augustus was aware of this sentiment and, in his restructuring of power, publicly promoted a clear rupture with the recent past and a return to supposed ancestral traditions. Accordingly, the princeps’s initiatives ostensibly aimed to restore the Roman ancestral heritage, underscoring, at the same time, the state of physical and moral abandonment in which the res publica had purportedly collapsed because of the ineptitude of his predecessors. As John Scheid puts it, “the best way to legitimate your own power was restoring what your enemies had neglected and violated during the civil wars.”80 The example of the maiores was paraded by the princeps as his main guideline in several fields of intervention. In the definition of his institutional role, for instance, Augustus claimed to have refused all the honours offered to him that were contra morem maiorum (RG 6.1).81 In his legislative activity, Augustus enacted laws to ‘rescue’ the ancestral customs, which were seemingly falling into disuse

79 Cic. Rep. 5.2: Nostra vero aetas cum rem publicam sicut picturam accepisset egregiam, sed iam evanescentem vetustate, non modo eam coloribus eisdem, quibus fuerat, renovare neglexit, sed ne id quidem curavit, ut formam saltem eius et extrema tamquam liniamenta servaret. Quid enim manet ex antiquis moribus, quibus ille dixit rem stare Romanam? Quos ita oblivione obsoletos videmus, ut non modo non colantur, sed iam ignorentur... Nostris enim vitiis, non casu aliquo, rem publicam verbo retinemus, re ipsa vero iam pridem amisimus. 80 Scheid 2005: 177. 81 Cf. RG 34.3; Cooley 2009: 39-40, 130-1, 271-2; also, Eder 2005: 13-33; cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1982: 36-37 about the practice of recusatio.

in his time.82 In matters of public religion, Augustus undertook an intense religious activity for the purpose of reviving ancestral rites and practices and restoring public temples (see above, section 1.2 with references at n. 63, and chapter 4.1.2 on Augustus and the figure of Numa). Augustus reorganized the institutions of the Republican order through a combination of old and new elements. However, the constant reference to the past (and especially to selected periods, such as Rome’s pre-history, the early kingdom, and the early Republic) concealed the innovative character of Augustus’s reforms and altered the perception of what the Romans considered traditional.83 The chief example of Augustus’s reverence for the past and, at the same time, of his ability to ‘rewrite’ it, is represented by the construction of his new forum, which was dedicated in 2 BC (fig. 1). The Forum of Augustus featured, at its north-eastern end, the sumptuous temple of Mars Ultor, which Augustus had vowed forty years before to commemorate his victory at Philippi (“or later wished it so to be believed”).84 In front of the temple, in central position, stood a bronze statue of Augustus in triumphal garb driving a quadriga, accompanied by an inscription bearing his newly bestowed title of Pater Patriae. The two lateral porticus each culminated in an exedra and were decorated with niches containing statues, which represented both Augustus’s personal ancestors and the great Romans of the past. In the central niches of the two exedras there were the statues of Aeneas, the progenitor of the Julii, and Romulus, the former portrayed fleeing from Troy with his father Anchises on his shoulder, the latter carrying the spoils of the enemy (spolia opima, discussed at chap. 4.2.3). Through this iconography, Aeneas and Romulus embodied Augustus’s complementary virtues: Aeneas was the paradigm of pietas, whereas Romulus was the best model of virtus, that is, martial excellence (cf. chap. 4.1.1). In the left exedra together with Aeneas there were Aeneas’s descendants, namely, the kings of Alba and the Julian family (apart from Caesar, whose statue was placed inside the temple of Mars), while in the right exedra, together with Romulus, there were other notable Romans. Each statue had a titulus with

82 RG 8.5: “By passing new laws I revived several customs of the ancestors which were already falling out of use and I myself handed down to posterity examples of many things to imitate” (legibus novis latis complura exempla maiorum exolescentia iam ex nostro usu revocavi et ipse multarum rerum exempla imitanda posteris tradidi). Cf. Cooley 2009: 143-4. Suetonius relates that Augustus also wanted to revive the ancestral fashion of dress and so made the toga mandatory to enter the forum (Aug. 40.5; cf. Zanker 1988: 162-6). On Augustus’s ‘moral legislation’, cf. Edwards 1993: 34-62; Galinsky 1996: 128-40; Wallace-Hadrill 2008: 329-53. 83 Cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1997: 3-22, 2005: 55-84, with specific reference to the transformation of the Roman mores and knowledge; see general treatment in Galinsky 1996, and the contributions in Habinek and Schiesaro 1997 (eds.). 84 Geiger 2008: 53. Inside the temple, Augustus placed the standards that he had recovered from the Parthians in 20 BC in revenge for the previous defeats (cf. Ov. Fast. 5.551-98; Suet. Aug. 29.1-2; Dio 55.10.1-5). On the temple of Mars Ultor see Simpson 1993: 116-122; Rich 1998: 71-128.

name and offices of the man portrayed and an elogium underneath describing the man’s accomplishments.85 The motive underlying the conception of this monument is suggested by Suetonius in his biography of Augustus:

Closest to the immortal gods he bestowed honour upon the memory of the leaders who had changed the empire of the Roman people from a very small one to a very large one. And so, he both restored their works with their remaining inscriptions and dedicated the statues of all of them in triumphal garb in both colonnades of his forum, also proclaiming in an edict: he had contrived that, in order that both himself, while he lived, and the rulers of the following ages might be weighted by the citizens to the life of those men as a model.86

The characters displayed, then, were to remind the viewers of the inspiration behind Augustus’s deeds and to serve as a comparison for Augustus’s achievements—while stressing, at the same time, how Augustus surpassed all of his predecessors.87 The presence of Aeneas, Romulus, and members of the Julian family in Augustus’s forum suggests that Augustus, as in the tradition of the Roman nobilitas, exploited his personal ancestry for self-promotional purposes. The recourse to family ancestors (including his divinized father)88 was especially useful to Augustus in the early phases of his career to legitimize his rule by hinting at his own quasi-divine status and by sanctioning his auctoritas (cf. chap. 3.2.4).89 As will be

85 There is evidence (both literary and epigraphic) for about thirty statues in this gallery of summi viri. On the Forum Augustum cf., in particular, Zanker 1988: 210-5; Luce 1990: 123-38; Galinsky 1996: 197-213, 1999: 185-7; Chaplin 2000: 173-84; Barchiesi 2005: 285-8; Gowing 2005: 138-45; Geiger 2008; Woolf 2015: 206-12. 86 Suet. Aug. 31.5: proximum a dis immortalibus honorem memoriae ducum praestitit, qui imperium p. R. ex minimo maximum reddidissent. Itaque et opera cuiusque manentibus titulis restituit et statuas omnium triumphali effigie in utraque fori sui porticu dedicavit, professus et edicto: commentum id se, ut ad illorum vitam velut ad exemplar et ipse, dum viveret, et insequentium aetatium principes exigerentur a civibus. 87 Cf. Dio’s account of Augustus’s funeral (56.34.2): the masks of the Romans who had distinguished themselves in any way, beginning with Romulus and including Pompey, were paraded together with Augustus’s family ancestors. Augustus had a strong fascination with exempla and apparently made abundant use of them in both his private and public life. In the Res Gestae, Augustus claims to have handed down examples for posterity in numerous fields: ipse multarum rerum exempla imitanda posteris tradidi (RG 8.5). Suetonius relates that Augustus had the habit of looking for “lessons and examples” (praecepta et exempla) in his readings, which he would copy and send to either relatives or governors and magistrates whenever they needed advice (monitio, Suet. Aug. 89.2; cf. Chaplin 2000: 173-8). Cf. also Suet. Aug. 73, 76-77, 79.1, which relate how Augustus maintained a modest and sparing lifestyle, possibly to appear as an example of frugality and moderation to his contemporaries. 88 On Augustus’s use of his father’s name cf. Cic. Phil. 13.24. In January 42 BC a senatorial decree proclaimed Julius Caesar a divus, which automatically made Octavian ‘son of the divus.’ 89 It is worth emphasizing that the Julii claimed a connection not only with Venus as Aeneas’s descendants, but also with Apollo, who not coincidentally would become Augustus’s own protector. The first temple of Apollo in Rome, located in the Campus Martius, was dedicated in 431 BC by the consul Cn. Julius (Liv. 4.29.7). According to Suetonius there also circulated a tale about Augustus’s divine parentage: the historian Asclepiades of Mendes in his Theologumena wrote that Augustus’s mother Atia was impregnated by Apollo in the guise of a snake while she was sleeping in his temple (FGrH 617 F2 = Suet. Aug. 94.4; cf. Dio 45.1.2). Gurval suggests that this tale may have been originally divulged by Caesar to sponsor his future heir and then retained by Augustus for self-promotion (Gurval 1995: 100-2, 111-3; on the Julii’s connection with Apollo see Weinstock 1971: 12-15). As Ogden (2013: 337-8) has convincingly observed, the notion that Augustus’s mother was impregnated by a serpent was surely modeled on the myth of Alexander’s conception and the physical union of his mother Nicasibula with the same animal. On

discussed in Chapters Three and Four, this special relation between Augustus and Rome’s legendary forebears as his personal ancestors gave his power and his public persona an unprecedented aura of legitimacy as well as a perception of superior morality in his being—to borrow the terminology displayed in the Res Gestae—curator legum et morum (RG 6.1).90 Augustan Rome was a welcoming city for foreign scholars and offered plenty of opportunities not only for financial gains, but also for meaningful social contacts and cultural exchanges. The large presence of professional intellectuals as well as highly educated Romans, skilled in the Greek language and literature, and the existence of abundant resources provided the ideal environment for Dionysius to appreciate Roman culture and traditions and to develop his historiographical project. The unique political conditions that matured in the capital with the rise of Augustus also represented, as I shall consider in the following chapters, a crucial factor in shaping Dionysius’s conception of Rome’s power and its role as world leader.

Augustus’s auctoritas see Ramage 1987: 38-54; Galinsky 1996, esp. 10-41; also, Rowe 2013: 1-15, who disputes Galinsky’s views as well as previous interpretations of auctoritas. 90 This title is used here rather loosely, but deliberately. It is true that the office of curator legum et morum (which was more than a mere censorship in terms of powers) was offered to Augustus by the senate and the Roman people for three times (19, 18, and 11 BC) and was refused by him on the grounds that it was not conventional (see Cooley 2009: 39-40, 130-1). However, the fact of inscribing the report on such an important public monument suggests that Augustus intended to record for posterity a certain image of himself, not only as a statesman complying with tradition and legality, but also as someone whom both the senate and the people deemed worthy of being called “guardian of the laws and customs.” Besides the tasks and powers associated with this office (on which see Cooley, above, with previous references), the title has clearly an ideological significance and a strong moral connotation.

Fig. 1 – Ground plan of the Forum Augustum (after Zanker 1988: 194, fig. 149).

CHAPTER 2 The Roman Antiquities of Dionysius of Halicarnassus

After the contextualization I provided in the previous chapter, I will now focus on Dionysius’s work and, in particular, on the ideas underlying the conception of the Roman Antiquities. This chapter is divided in two major sections, concerning respectively Dionysius’s writings (2.1) and the topic of the present dissertation (2.2). In the first subsection (2.1.1), I present Dionysius’s life and activity in Rome, with a brief overview of his social relations, as the setting for the conception of his historical work. Next, I discuss Dionysius’s views on the past, and especially on the connection between history and the development of oratory (2.1.2). In subsection 2.1.3, I examine the purposes of his oeuvre, his historiographic principles, his intended audience, and his sources and method (respectively, points a, b, c, and d). Lastly, in section 2.2, I discuss previous scholarship concerning the link between the Roman Antiquities and the Augustan age (2.2.1), and I lay out the argument of this thesis (2.2.2), highlighting its relevance to our overall understanding of Dionysius’s activity and Augustan literature in general.

2.1 Dionysius of Halicarnassus and his World

2.1.1 Dionysius’s Life in Rome

Dionysius arrived in Rome in 30/29 BC, “at the same time when the civil war was brought to an end by Caesar Augustus” (ἅμα τῷ καταλυθῆναι τὸν ἐμφύλιον πόλεμον ὑπὸ τοῦ Σεβαστοῦ Καίσαρος, RA 1.7.2), and remained there for (at least) the following twenty-two years learning the Latin language1 and doing research for the composition of his historical work, as he himself states in the preface to his history (ibid; cf. RA 1.3.4, which dates the preface to 7 BC).2 It is uncertain

1 On Dionysius’s knowledge of Latin see discussion at 2.1.3 d. Diodorus Siculus also claims to be acquainted with the Latin language on account of the contacts between his homeland and Rome (Diod. 1.4.4). On Greek intellectuals’ knowledge of Latin cf. Delcourt 2005: 28-30; evidence of Greeks learning Latin is discussed by Adams 2003: 15-18 (although Dionysius is not mentioned). 2 At RA 1.3.4 Dionysius provides the current date ab urbe condita (that is, counting the years back from the foundation of the city), by consuls (under Ti. Claudius Nero and Cn. Calpurnius Piso), and by Olympiad (the one hundred and ninety-third). At 1.7.2 only the Olympic date is indicated (“in the middle of the one hundred and eighty-seventh Olympiad”). On chronological matters in Dionysius cf. chap. 3.2.2 and introduction to section 4.2.

how much longer Dionysius stayed in Rome, as no information has survived about it. At any rate, during his stay in the capital Dionysius came into contact with members of the Roman nobility as well as other (mostly Greek) intellectuals. Dionysius himself supplies reasonable evidence in his writings that he was well-integrated into the Roman social fabric. For instance, he includes among the motives for the composition of his oeuvre his wish “to render to the city a thankful recompense...being mindful of the education and the other blessings that I enjoyed while spending time in it” (χαριστηρίους ἀμοιβάς...ἀποδοῦναι τῇ πόλει, παιδείας τε μεμνημένῳ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ἀγαθῶν ὅσων ἀπέλαυσα διατρίψας ἐν αὐτῇ, RA 1.6.5).3 Such a statement underlines an intense bond with the city and its intellectual community. Also, as considered below, among his dedicatees Dionysius names a few Romans, likely well-off or aristocratic figures, although the nature of his relationship with them is rather speculative. In the preface to the Roman Antiquities, Dionysius claims to have associated with “men of the greatest erudition” (λογιώτατοι ἄνδρες), who provided him with information for his history (RA 1.7.3). Dionysius’s writings preserve the names of a number of his acquaintances and colleagues (perhaps, the same λογιώτατοι ἄνδρες indicated above):4 a Cn. Pompeius Geminus, possibly a freedman of Pompey, is the recipient of a letter-treatise on ancient Greek historians (Pomp. 1.1). In the same text, Dionysius refers to the orator and philosopher Caecilius of Caleacte as a dear friend of his (Pomp. 3.20); he names a certain Zeno as a common friend with Pompeius Geminus (Pomp. 1.1); and he refers to a certain Demetrius as the dedicatee of his lost treatise on imitation (Pomp. 3.1). A certain Ammaeus (repeatedly addressed as βέλτιστε Ἀμμαῖε) is the recipient of a treatise on ancient Greek orators and two letters on rhetorical matters (Orat. Vett. 1.1; Dem. 49, 58; Amm. 1, 2). Dionysius’s treatise on literary composition is dedicated to Metilius

3 Cf., for instance, Delcourt (2005: 32): “Ses Opuscules rhétoriques le montrent en effet au centre d’un véritable cercle d’intellectuels grecs,” and Wiater (2011a: 24): “Heterogeneous though they were, Dionysius’s addressees were united...by a common repertoire of methods and a common conceptual vocabulary with which they expressed their knowledge and shared it amongst each other, and by the common purpose of their studies, to write Classical texts themselves.” Although the notion of a network of intellectuals sharing ideas and reading each other’s works is certainly plausible, there is very little evidence for the precise activity of Dionysius’s associates and the content of their literary works (cf. de Jonge’s comments in his review of Wiater’s monograph, 2012, and 2008: 26 with n. 132- 4). I agree with De Jonge that Wisse’s distinction between the notions of ‘network’ and ‘circle’ is particularly relevant here. Wisse uses the term network to signify that “there must have been many contacts, of various sorts and varying intensity, between numerous Greek and Roman intellectuals,” whereas the term circle may suggest the scholars’ protection under a common patron (Wisse 1995: 78-79; De Jonge, ibid; also, Weaire 2005: 250-1). 4 On Dionysius’s life and associates, and the possible relationships with the figures mentioned above see Rhys Roberts 1900: 439-42; Bowersock 1965: 129-32, 1978: 70-72; Schultze 1986: 122-3; Gabba 1991: 1-4, 30-31; Hidber 1996: 5-7; Delcourt 2005: 24-35; De Jonge 2008: 20-34; Mehl 2011: 114-6; Wiater 2011a: 23-26.

Rufus (possibly the later governor of Achaea),5 whose father is said to be a most cherished friend of Dionysius (Comp. 1). Lastly, Q. Aelius Tubero is cited as addressee of the treatise on Thucydides (Thuc. 1, 55; Amm. 2 1). Tubero, who was a renowned jurist at his time and also the author of a historical work himself, seems to have been a close associate of Dionysius. The Aelii— who are, conceivably, the just mentioned Q. Tubero and his father Lucius—are named among Dionysius’s sources in the Roman Antiquities’ introduction (1.7.3).6 While the identification of several of these figures is merely conjectural, the character of the texts addressed to them leads us to think of a vibrant intellectual network surrounding Dionysius. Moreover, the exclusive use of Greek in Dionysius’s writings indicates a learned audience which was, if not Greek, then at least well conversant with the Greek language (cf. below, subsection 2.1.3 c). Although Dionysius’s specific occupation in Rome is uncertain, scholars have appeared reluctant to restrict it to tutoring or mere rhetorical teaching.7 As Clemence Schultze observes, in his letters and treatises Dionysius generally addresses his dedicatees as educated equals, not as pupils.8 In his essay on Demosthenes, for instance, Dionysius clarifies that he is not writing a handbook and assumes that his readers are familiar with the works of the Athenian orator (Dem. 46). The treatise on Thucydides is addressed to the erudite Q. Aelius Tubero, “and the other men fond of literature who will come across this writing” (τῶν ἂλλων φιλολόγων τῶν ἐντευξομένων τῇ γραφῇ, Thuc. 25). Also, in the opening of his second letter to Ammaeus, Dionysius states that the letter was a response to Ammaeus’ criticism of Dionysius’s work about Thucydides (Amm. 2 1). This kind of intellectual exchange seems to go beyond a teacher-pupil relationship, and instead may point to Dionysius’s active engagement in the ongoing literary debates.9 However, not all scholars agree with Schultze on the high level of Dionysius’s teaching, proposing that Dionysius

5 Cf. Schultze 1986: 122. 6 On Q. and L. Aelius Tubero see, in particular, Rawson 1985: 97, 206, 213, 220; Cornell 2013: 361-7. 7 Cf., e.g., Rhys Roberts 1900: 493, who suggests that Dionysius was “more than an ordinary teacher of composition;” and Schultze 1986: 123, who argues that Dionysius’s “teaching was at a fairly high level and as a favour: he was not a poor hireling tutor...and he appears anxious to to stress that his writings are not scholikos.” 8 Schultze 1986: 123. However, De compositione verborum is addressed to “young men and those who are just beginning to take up the[ir] study” (Comp. 1.4; De Jonge’s translation, 2008: 24-25). As De Jonge notes, in this treatise Dionysius indeed claims to have written a handbook and assumes the attitude of a tutor instructing his pupils (Comp. 22; De Jonge ibid). His way of addressing his dedicatees as equals (not as pupils) in the other treatises may also depend on their superior social status (as observed by Christopher Mackay). 9 Schultze 1986: 123-4; cf. Delcourt 2005: 40-43; De Jonge 2008: 23-25. In a contemporary mention in Strabo’s Geography, Dionysius is counted among the natives of Halicarnassus as “the historian,” Διονύσιος ὁ συγγραφεύς (Strab. 14.2.16, C 656). Cf. Suda s.v. Διονύσιος ᾽Αλεξάνδρου ᾽Αλικαρνασεύς (BNJ 251 T 1): in the Byzantine lexicon, Dionysius is defined as “orator and learned man in all kinds of ways” (ῥήτωρ καὶ παντοίως λόγιος).

may have taught at a rather low level and have been paid for his services, and that figures such as Tubero likely acted as Dionysius’s literary patrons.10 Gavin Weaire, in discussing Dionysius’s relationship with the Roman aristocracy, has advanced a more balanced view between these two positions, suggesting that while Dionysius likely taught at a fairly high level, there is nonetheless no way to know if he did that ‘as a favour,’ “since Literary (i.e., social) convention would have dictated that any profit motive be concealed in the De compositione verborum—even if there had been occasion to mention fees, which there is not.”11 For the present purposes, it is worth emphasizing that, regardless of the exact nature of Dionysius’s literary engagement with his acquaintances, his manifestly close relationships with the city of Rome and a number of intellectual and political figures in it played a substantial role in the creation and composition of his writings, as the prefaces of both On the ancient orators and The Roman Antiquities suggest—and as I will examine in the next two sections. Dionysius likely had access to his source material through his Roman connections12 and intended his works as an intellectual interaction with them.

2.1.2 Dionysius’s Classicist Conception of the Past: On the Ancient Orators

Dionysius devoted six essays to the lives and works of the most famous Greek Classical orators, which he unified through a single preamble. His interest in Greek Classical oratory should be understood as part of the Atticizing tendency in literary studies, which flourished at Rome during the second half of the first century BC. Scholars generally distinguish two phases in it, although there is no general agreement about the relationship between the two.13 The first phase likely originated in the late sixties or fifties BC from the work of a few Roman intellectuals, chiefly the

10 Although Weaire warns against using too freely the term ‘patronage’ to describe Dionysius’s connections with Roman elite members (2005: 248-51). He discusses, among other views, the positions of Schultze and of Bowersock (1965: 130, and 1979, esp. 67-68; cf. Schultze 1986: 122-123; Fromentin 1998: XIV-XVII). 11 Weaire 2005: 249. 12 Weaire 2005: 249-50; cf. Hogg 2013: 137-51. 13 For the general development of oratory in Augustan Rome, see Kennedy 1994: 159-72; Wallace-Hadrill 2005: 71- 73; Migliario 2008: 77-93. Cf. Bowersock 1979: 57-75; Wisse 1995: 65-82; and Connolly 2007: 154-7 on the respective characteristics of first-century BC Atticism in Latin and Greek authors. According to Bowersock, the relationship between Latin and Greek Atticists could be explained through Dionysius’s connection with Aelius Tubero, who like the Latin Atticists was an admirer of Thucydides (1979: 67-71). This hypothesis is rejected by Gabba on the ground that, according to Dionysius, Atticism grew spontaneously in the Greek cities, though under Roman impulse (Gabba 1982b: 47-48 = 1991: 30-32).

orator and poet C. Licinius Calvus.14 These Roman Attici, as Cicero called them, promoted a literary style, in Latin, shaped on the linguistic purity of a few selected Athenian Classical writers, such as Lysias, Hyperides, and Thucydides; at the same time, they rejected the exuberant style of Demosthenes and—among the domestic orators—of Cicero himself (cf. Tac. Dial. 18.4-5; Quint. Inst. 12.10.12). Cicero, too, acknowledged the superiority of Attic oratory in contrast with the eloquence developed in the Greek cities of Asia Minor, which he characterized as “bloated” and “fatty” (opimum quoddam et tamquam adipatae dictionis genus; Orat. 7.25), but he vigorously criticized the Roman Attici for following a very limited number of models and encouraging a rhetorical style that was dry and artificial (Cic. Brut. 283-91; cf. Orat. 7.23-9.32, 70.234-71.236; De opt. gen. 7-17).15 The second phase of this Atticizing fashion was initiated instead by Greek scholars, and chiefly Dionysius and his previously mentioned associate, Caecilius of Caleacte. None of Caecilius’s writings survives, but it is likely, to judge from other sources’ reports of his activity, that he shared with the Roman Attici a narrow selection of literary models.16 Dionysius’s position, on the other hand, appears closer to that of Cicero, for he admitted, in his notion of Attic style, a wider range of models, including Demosthenes (whose work in fact is examined in Dionysius’s essay on Attic orators; see below).17 The debate about rhetorical styles did not concern merely their formal aspect. It was a common idea in Greco-Roman thought that speech was a reflection of character, as exemplified by Seneca’s well-known statement, talis oratio qualis vita (Ep. 114.1),18 and by Dionysius’s comparable assertion in the preface to his history (RA 1.1.3, discussed below). Like Dionysius, the Roman writers explained the differences between Attic and Asian eloquence on the basis of the character of their respective orators and audiences. For instance, Cicero affirms that the Athenians rejected Asian oratory because it lacked the purity and elegance suitable to their sensible judgment

14 On Calvus as the initiator of Atticism in Rome see Bowersock 1979: 59-65; Wisse 1995: 67-69; Spawforth 2012: 20-21. On Calvus as an Attic orator cf. Cic. Brut. 284: Atticum se, inquit, Calvus noster dici oratorem volebat. 15 Cf. also Brut. 51 on the evolution of Asian oratory: when eloquence was “exported” from Athens, it was infected by the various local speeches of the Asian nations, losing in this way the purity of its original diction, with the result that Asian orators were “too little concise and excessively overflowing” (parum pressi et nimis redundantes). On the origins of Asian eloquence cf. Kennedy 1994: 95-96. 16 Cf. O’Sullivan 1997: 27-41, and esp. 34-39, who emphasizes the role of Caecilius in the birth of Atticism and argues that his activity could be placed in the mid-forties BC (and thus would immediately follow that of the Roman Attici). The Suda attributes Caecilius the following treatises: How the Attic style differs from the Asianic; Against the Phrygians; and On the character of the ten Orators (Suda s.v. Κεκίλιος). 17 Cf. Kennedy 1994: 165-6; Hidber 2011, esp. 120-2. 18 Cf. Richlin 1997: 77.

(Cic. Orat. 25); and Quintilian, writing under the Flavians, states that “the race from Asia, being in general rather arrogant and boastful, is also puffed up with a rather vain pride in speaking” (Asiana gens tumidior alioqui atque iactantior vaniore etiam dicendi gloria inflata est, Quint. Inst. 12.10.17, cf. 12.10.16-26). In addition, Asian eloquence was often regarded as a sign of effeminacy. The distaste provoked by the Asian style conceivably reflected the traditional Roman aversion for ‘Asian’ civilization (that is, the Greek world of Asia Minor and the Near East), which was persistently described by Roman writers as being tainted by luxury, moral decadence, and sexual perversion.19 The term Asianus in oratory was thus charged with a moralizing sense as a result of the association with its geographical reference.20 Dionysius appears to share this long standing view, which evaluated Asian eloquence in terms of moral debauchery, as is evident in his comparing the rise of Asianism to a courtesan (ἑταίρα) taking control over the household of a chaste wife (who represents Attic eloquence, Orat. Vett. 1). Dionysius’s essay on Attic oratory is central to understanding his historical work, for it elaborates on the ideas expressed in the Roman Antiquities. In the latter, Dionysius intends to demonstrate that Roman civilization developed through the civic ideals that the Athenian orators (and chiefly Isocrates) had lauded in their orations as being characteristic of the Athenians of old.21 These virtues were also innate to the Romans, since, as Dionysius maintains, they were originally Greek and shared in the Greek ancestral legacy: “Hellenism was an original element [to them].”22 Therefore, present-day Rome represented the culmination of a long historical process that, as it were, began in Greece and developed through the Greek ancestral virtues as well as through

19 Examples in Latin literature abound. Cf., e.g., Liv. 39.6.7–9; Sall. Cat. 11.5; Cic. Q. fr. 1.5.16; Mart. 10.65; Juv. 3.58-125. For a discussion on the individual cases see Edwards 1993: 92-97. Edwards contends moreover that the Romans suffered from an “inferiority complex” when facing Greek culture, and for this reason they attacked the Greeks on morality (cf. Cic. Tusc. 1.1.2). The Roman attitude towards Greco-Eastern culture could be paralleled to the nineteenth-century European approach to the ‘Orient’ analyzed by Edward Said (1978). Said conceives of ‘Orientalism’ as the western construction of the East through a well-defined body of knowledge aimed at its control; the roots of this mental attitude may be easily attributed to Greco-Roman antiquity and the traditional stigmatization of the East as ‘the Other’ with all its stereotypes of moral inferiority. The Greeks also drew an ideological boundary between themselves and the eastern world in the literature produced after the Persian Wars, in which the Persians typically emerge as a servile and effeminized people (cf. Hall 1989, esp. 56-100; Wallace-Hadrill 2008: 32-33; Wiater 2011: 66-67 with n. 180-7, 98-99; cf. Gruen 2011: 9-65 on the Greek perception of Persia; also, Dench 2005: 86-87 on the Persians’ “reception of pleasures” in Hdt. 1.71, 121, 155). 20 Cf. Spawforth 2012: 21: “In the stylistic register of Roman oratory, ‘Asian’ functions essentially as a term of abuse.” On effeminacy in speaking/writing cf., e.g., Sen. Contr. praef. 8-9; Sen. Ep. 114.8; Quint. Inst. 2.5.10-11; 5.12.17-22; Mart. 2.86; Persius 1.13-23; Gell. NA 6.14.11; Plut. Ant. 2.4-5; see Edwards 1993: 93 with n. 97. 21 Gabba 1991: 39. Cf. Wiater 2011a: 103: “Roman power in the present derives its legitimacy from being the representative of the virtues and values which had been constitutive of Greek superiority in the Classical times.” 22 Gabba 1991: 39; cf. RA 1.5.3 (chap. 2.1.3 a, below).

continuous Greek cultural and political influence. The preface to On the ancient orators has a programmatic value, as it shows how in Dionysius’s conception political, literary, and moral developments in Greek society were deeply intertwined and had recently flourished under Roman impulse. In accordance with the approach that modern scholars have defined as Classicizing, Dionysius divides literary history into three periods: a glorious past (that is, Classical Age Greece), in which Attic oratory flourished; a period of decadence, coinciding with the Hellenistic age, in which Attic oratory was replaced by Asian rhetoric; and the present age, which is reviving the glory of the past by promoting a return to Attic oratory.23 Dionysius’s treatise aimed at supporting the advancement of the last trend through the account of the lives and works of the foremost Attic orators of the late-fifth and fourth centuries BC (namely, Lysias, Isocrates, Isaeus, Demosthenes, Hyperides, and Aeschines), whom Dionysius regarded as models worthy of imitation for those interested in politics, on account of both their style and their political teachings (Orat. Vett. 4). In this “Classicist manifesto,” as scholars have styled it,24 Dionysius links the development of civic oratory with changes in political power. The present age, he maintains, has witnessed the revival of “the practice of civic oratory” (lit., “of the political discourses,” ἡ περὶ τοὺς πολιτικοὺς λόγους ἐπιμέλεια, Orat. Vett. 1). “The old and philosophical rhetoric” (ἡ ἀρχαία καὶ φιλόσοφος ῥητορική, ibid), which is characterized by a sober and elegant language as well as the philosophical foundation of its content (Orat. Vett. 2), fell into decline with the death of Alexander the Great, being gradually replaced by the eloquence from Asia. Dionysius contemptuously describes this second style as a “theatrical” (θεατρικός) type of oratory without any philosophical depth, associating its use with ignorance and populist politics. Its pinnacle occurred around Dionysius’s time (καθ’ ἡμᾶς ἡλικίας).25 Dionysius ascribes the universal return of the old and sound (σώφρων)

23 On the definition of Classicism, see, in particular, Gelzer 1979, esp. 9-12; Wisse 1995: 71-72; Hidber 1996: 14- 25; Kim 2014: 357-65. Cf. Wiater 2011a: 61-63, who discusses modern criticism of this model and its problematic nature. 24 Cf., e.g., Hidber 1996; De Jonge 2008: 10; Wiater 2011a: 60. 25 Gabba (1982b: 46 = 1991: 28) underscores the “double chronological framework” provided by Dionysius. On the one hand, Dionysius affirms that Attic eloquence began to fade with the death of Alexander; on the other hand, he seems to imply that Asian eloquence was short-lived and flourished only in recent times. Matthew Fox has emphasized that time has a central role in this text in its “power to preserve a righteous order” (Fox 2011: 101, cf. 100-2). Unlike Attic eloquence, Asian oratory did not refer to a specific rhetorical school. As Gabba argues, its flowering as indicated by Dionysius coincides with the period between the Mithridatic Wars and Octavian’s final victory, during which the Greek cities of Asia Minor enjoyed a cultural bloom, especially favoured by Antony’s policies (Gabba 1982b: 51-52 = 1991: 35-38). As for the geographical range of Asian eloquence, Dionysius, like Cicero, indicates Mysia, Caria, and Phrygia as its lands of origin (Orat. Vett. 1). Cf. Cic. Orat. 25: “Thus in Caria, Phrygia and Mysia, since they are not at all refined and by no means tasteful, people adopted a kind of eloquence somehow abundant as fitted to their ears and, so to speak, coarse” (Itaque Caria et Phrygia et Mysia, quod minime

rhetoric, or “the Attic muse” (ἡ Ἀττικὴ μοῦσα), to the latest Roman government. In his assessment below, Dionysius divides the population of Rome in three groups, which are involved in this “change” (μεταβολή): οἱ δυναστεύοντες (“those who hold power”), τό φρόνιμον μέρος (“the sensible segment”), and τὸ ἀνόητον (“the unintelligent”). The latter two represent the lower segments of society and are governed by the first group:

The cause and beginning, I think, of so great a change has been the fact that Rome, which is all-powerful, compels all the cities to look to her, and that those who hold power over this same city, who administer public affairs by virtue and in the best way, are very well-educated and excellent in their decisions, by whom the sensible segment of the city is set in order and so have advanced even more, and the unintelligent segment is forced to behave sensibly.26

Anticipating a key notion underlying the whole conception of the Roman Antiquities, Dionysius presents Rome’s dominion not only in terms of a revival of Classical civic ideals, but as their actual fulfilment. As I shall presently consider, these ideas appear profoundly influenced by Isocrates’s theories on civic oratory and education, which Dionysius discusses at some length in a specific section of his treatise. On the identity of the δυναστεύοντες scholars have expressed different opinions. Gabba argues that this group could be identified with Augustus and his entourage (that is, the actual ruling class), a hypothesis that has been later rejected by Thomas Hidber in favour of members of the Roman aristocracy such as Aelius Tubero and Metilius Rufus, with whom Dionysius associated.27 Hidber’s theory is convincing. Such men are indeed distinguished by their learning (εὐπαίδευτοι πάνυ) and moral qualities (κατ᾽ ἀρετὴν καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ κρατίστου τὰ κοινὰ διοικοῦντες... γενναῖοι τὰς κρίσεις γενόμενοι), which define them as a cultural elite and constitute the basis of their influence, but no explicit references in the text connect them with the princeps and single them out as the highest ranks of Rome’s political leadership.

politae minimeque elegantes sunt, asciverunt aptum suis auribus opimum quoddam et tamquam adipatae dictionis genus, etc.); see Bowersock 1979: 65-66; Spawforth 2012: 23. The latter observes how Dionysius as a native Carian condemns his own ethnicity in order to identify with the Roman viewpoint. 26 Orat. Vett. 3: αἰτία δ᾽ οἶμαι καὶ ἀρχὴ τῆς τοσαύτης μεταβολῆς ἐγένετο ἡ πάντων κρατοῦσα Ῥώμη πρὸς ἑαυτὴν ἀναγκάζουσα τὰς ὅλας πόλεις ἀποβλέπειν, καὶ ταύτης δὲ αὐτῆς οἱ δυναστεύοντες κατ᾽ ἀρετὴν καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ κρατίστου τὰ κοινὰ διοικοῦντες, εὐπαίδευτοι πάνυ καὶ γενναῖοι τὰς κρίσεις γενόμενοι, ὑφ᾽ ὧν κοσμούμενον τό τε φρόνιμον τῆς πόλεως μέρος ἔτι μᾶλλον ἐπιδέδωκεν καὶ τὸ ἀνόητον ἠνάγκασται νοῦν ἔχειν. On the interpretation of the preface to this treatise and the contemporary rise of Classicism see Bowersock 1979: 65-67; Gabba 1982b: 44-50 = 1991: 23-48; Kennedy 1994: 161-3; Hidber 1996, 2011: 118-22; Swain 1996: 23-27; Whitmarsh 2005: 49-54; de Jonge 2008: 9-20; Kim 2010: 472-4; Fox 1996: 71-74; 2011: 99-102; Wiater 2011a, esp. 60-65, 92-100; Spawforth 2012: 20-26. 27 See Gabba 1991: 26-27 n. 7; Hidber 1996: 119-120. Gelzer (1979:16-17) defines this group as composed by members of the Roman senatorial class with access to Greek literature; Wisse (1995:77) suggests that Dionysius “might just be flattering his patrons,” and thus identifies the δυναστεύοντες with the same figures as Hidber. See discussion in De Jonge 2008:17-18 (with n. 96 for further references), who substantially accepts Hidber’s hypothesis.

Dionysius’s efforts to promote the resurgence of Attic oratory is based on the view, presented in the treatise’s preface, that style and content are indissolubly linked, and therefore adopting the style of the Attic masters implies, to a certain extent, subscribing to their ideals.28 Dionysius asserts this assumption as he introduces the main subject of his essay: “This [i.e., the proposed subject] is who the most important of the ancient orators and historians are, and what the principles of their life and discourses were, and what we should take from each one or guard against, good subjects of investigation which are necessary for those who practise political philosophy.”29 In this passage, life conduct and modes of speaking are presented as a single unit (προαιρέσεις τοῦ τε βίου καὶ τῶν λόγων). Also, the terminology used by Dionysius, πολιτικὴ φιλοσοφία, recalls his previous definition of Attic oratory as “philosophic rhetoric,” suggesting that his intended audience was constituted by the cultural elite who had proved receptive to the Classicist revival. The resuscitation of Classical oratory, and thereby of Classical ideals, will be achieved by the reader through the imitation (μίμησις) of its models’ best qualities. Theories about μίμησις and mimetic techniques in literature (especially poetry) and visual arts had abundantly developed in Greek thought since possibly the sixth century BCE, subsequently receiving systematic treatments in Plato’s Republic (3, 10) and Laws (2) and in Aristotle’s Poetics (9).30 Dionysius elaborates the notion of μίμησις in a three-volume treatise named after its subject matter. Only part of the second volume has survived summarized in his letter to Pompeius Geminus, from which we learn that the first volume concerned the nature of imitation, the second (summarized in the letter) provided specific examples among Greek writers to imitate, and the third, unfinished, volume treated the modes of imitation (Pomp. 3.1).31 I examine the content of the Letter to Pompeius, which deals more specifically with μίμησις in

28 On language as a means to transmit Greek identity see Wiater 2011a: 64-65. 29 Orat. Vett. 4: ἔστι δὲ ἥδε, τίνες εἰσὶν ἀξιολογώτατοι τῶν ἀρχαίων ῥητόρων τε καὶ συγγραφέων καὶ τίνες αὐτῶν ἐγένοντο προαιρέσεις τοῦ τε βίου καὶ τῶν λόγων καὶ τί παρ᾽ ἑκάστου δεῖ λαμβάνειν ἢ φυλάττεσθαι, καλὰ θεωρήματα καὶ ἀναγκαῖα τοῖς ἀσκοῦσι τὴν πολιτικὴν φιλοσοφίαν. 30 There is abundant bibliography about μίμησις in the work of the two philosophers. Among the most recent publications, see, on Plato, the essays in Herrmann and Destrée 2011 (eds.): Collobert, 41-61; Marušič, 217-40; Richardson Lear, 195-216; Singpurwalla, 283-96; cf. Bensen Cain 2012: 187-95; Palumbo 2013: 55-68 and 2008 (on both Plato and Aristotle). On μίμησις in Aristotle see, e.g., Carli 2010: 303-36; Schütrumpf 2014: 244-73; Veloso 2015: 195-207 (μίμησις in historiography). 31 On imitation in Dionysius cf. Sacks 1983, esp. 66-74; Schultze 1986: 136; Heath 1989: 370-3; Gabba 1991: 29, 33; Fox 1993, esp. 38, 42, and 1996: 64, 67-68; Delcourt 2005: 43-47; Cichocka 2010: 35-45; Wiater 2011a: 77-92, 167-71. Wiater distinguishes two levels of imitation in the RA: ‘intertextual’ and ‘extratextual’ μίμησις. The former is the process by which the early Romans adopted the Greek modes of life according to Dionysius’s account; the latter describes how Dionysius’s readers interact with his text based on the exempla it provides: “extratextual mimesis is the means by which continuity with the past is achieved” (ibid, 170).

historiography, in section 2.1.3 b, where I discuss Dionysius’s historiographical tenets, as the two notions are closely related. Dionysius indeed formulates his tenets after the examples of great historians of the past (particularly Herodotus and Theopompus), whose styles and the contents of whose works, in his opinion, ought to be imitated by those writing history.32 Besides this treatment, Dionysius presents his ideas on stylistic μίμησις in the essay De compositione verborum, where he integrates the notion of imitation into his rhetorical system.33 Poets and prose-writers, he contends, ought to choose words when composing that are imitative of things, onomatopoeias being the best instances of how nature itself urges us to imitate sounds through words. A beautiful style is achieved using suitable words, which in turn are formed by certain syllables and sounds. As an example, Dionysius quotes Homeric passages where the sound of the words employed by Homer reproduces the appearance of and the emotions raised by the events described (Comp. 16). Dionysius here associates μίμησις with the concept of appropriateness (τὸ πρέπον) of composition, arguing that in reporting an event the writer ought to pay attention not only to the word-choice but also to the word-order to imitate the subject, and the selection and the composition will have to be fitting to the emotions that the writer (or orator) is trying to communicate (Comp. 20). The principle of μίμησις thus functions at various levels, being a feature of style as well as the content of a literary work. In this sense, μίμησις is linked to (almost overlapping with) the concept of exemplarity, for the works we imitate supply us with παραδείγματα of style and, through style, of morals (following the principle outlined above about the connection between style and content).34 Returning now to the orators examined in his essay—Dionysius presents Isocrates as the highest example of rhetorical skill combined with moral virtues (or, as we might say, of the Classical ethos). Isocrates is described throughout as a patriot who dedicated his career to the political education of the Greeks (especially the Athenians) with the aim of shaping outstanding statesmen and citizens, and who proposed through his writings a notion of Hellenic identity based on the superior morals, education, and civic awareness of the Greeks of old (those who lived during the Persian Wars) as opposed to the barbarians.35 The account of Isocrates’s almost century-long

32 Dionysius mentions briefly his treatise on imitation also in Thuc. 1 (discussed in Cichocka 2010: 42-43). 33 Calcante 2014, esp. 104-6. 34 On Dionysius’s use of παραδείγματα, cf. Verdin 1974: 298-300; Gowing 2009: 335-6; Schultze 1986: 137-8. Detailed discussions about the exemplarity of the characters in exam here will occur in the respective chapters. 35 On Isocrates’s views on rhetorical education, see Too 1995, esp. 151-232. Cf. Pownall’s discussion of Isocrates’s audience (conceivably Greek aristocrats) and his notion of ‘Panhellenic’ identity (Pownall 2007: 13-25). See also Wiater (2011a: 65-77), who focuses on the idea of civic oratory as a carrier of Athenian identity, and Peirano 2010:32-53 (esp. 39-43) on the importance of culture and morality in defining Greek identity in Dionysius’s work.

life is set out at the beginning of Dionysius’s treatise on the orator, in order to show Isocrates’s enduring commitment to his mission. Of his early life, Dionysius stresses his extensive philosophical education under the guidance of Prodicus of Ceos and Gorgias of Leontini. Deterred from pursuing a career in public life by his weak constitution and feeble voice,36 Isocrates consigned his political views to his writings, composing orations on civic and constitutional matters (Isoc. 1; cf. Isoc. Phil. 81, Panath. 9-10; Plut. Mor. 836f-839d). His great merit, in Dionysius’s view, was to have shifted the object of rhetoric “from competitive discourses and natural philosophy to civic discourses” (ἀπὸ τῶν ἐριστικῶν τε καὶ φυσικῶν ἐπὶ τοὺς πολιτικοὺς, Isoc. 1). Accordingly, Dionysius lays great emphasis on the nobility of the subjects treated by Isocrates, the study of which would produce not merely better orators but better citizens:

[...the theme of the orations, on which Isocrates used to concentrate, and the beauty of the subjects, in which he used to pass his time] would make anyone who applied their mind to him not only skilled at speaking, but also excellent in their characters, being serviceable both to their household, to their city, and to all Hellas. For the most excellent lessons about virtue are precisely to be found in Isocrates’s discourses. And I, for my part, affirm that those who are going to acquire not some share of political skill, but all of it, need to have this orator in hand.37

As Nicolas Wiater has observed, in this passage Dionysius “adopts Isocrates’s conception of the unity of morals, rhetorical practice, and political activity.”38 Like Isocrates, Dionysius conceived of rhetoric not as a pointless academic subject, aimed at self-display (cf., e.g., Isoc. Paneg. 17), but rather as a practice that aims for the common welfare. Dionysius regards Isocrates’s πολιτικοὶ λόγοι as the finest expression of civic oratory, since, together with its Classical language, they transmit a specific view of the Classical past and therefore allow its renewal by those who accept their lesson. As Wiater puts it, “Speaking or writing as Isocrates or any Classical author would have spoken or written implies subscribing to certain Classical moral and political values.”39 Another crucial element that Dionysius highlights in Isocrates’s orations is the prominence given to the political wisdom and qualities of the Athenian forebears or πρόγονοι—as mentioned above, those who lived at the time of the Persian Wars—since they embodied the civic virtues that

36 However, as Pownall points out, the argument of the physical impairment represented by the weak voice is likely to be a literary topos (Pownall 2007: 15; after Too 1995, cf. esp. 74-112). 37 Isoc. 4: [ἡ προαίρεσις ἡ τῶν λόγων, περὶ οὓς ἐσπούδαζε, καὶ τῶν ὑποθέσεων τὸ κάλλος, ἐν αἷς ἐποιεῖτο τὰς διατριβάς.] ἐξ ὧν οὐ λέγειν δεινοὺς μόνον ἀπεργάσαιτ᾽ ἂν τοὺς προσέχοντας αὐτῷ τὸν νοῦν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ ἤθη σπουδαίους, οἴκῳ τε καὶ πόλει καὶ ὅλῃ τῇ Ἑλλάδι χρησίμους. κράτιστα γὰρ δὴ παιδεύματα πρὸς ἀρετὴν ἐν τοῖς Ἰσοκράτους ἔστιν εὑρεῖν λόγοις. καὶ ἔγωγέ φημι χρῆναι τοὺς μέλλοντας οὐχὶ μέρος τι τῆς πολιτικῆς δυνάμεως ἀλλ᾽ ὅλην αὐτὴν κτήσασθαι τοῦτον ἔχειν τὸν ῥήτορα διὰ χειρός. 38 Wiater 2011a: 71. 39 Wiater 2011a: 74.

readers ought to learn and practice. Drawing freely on Isocrates’s Panegyric, Dionysius praises the ancient Athenians’ martial prowess, their moderation, the frugality of their lifestyle, their sense of justice, their kindness towards the other Greeks, and their trustworthiness. Thanks to these qualities, Dionysius argues, the Athenian ancestors were able to maintain a sense of unity among the Greek cities, looking upon Greece as their “common nation” (κοινή πατρίς, Isoc. 5; cf. Isoc. Paneg. 42, 121-6, 151-3, 188). Likewise, in his selective summaries of other Isocrates’s major orations (namely, Letter to Philip, On the Peace, Areopagiticus, and Archidamus) Dionysius focuses on the virtues best represented in them. For instance, he stresses the valuable political advice, applicable to all men in government, contained in Isocrates’s Letter to Philip (Isoc. 6), and the piety and justice inspired by the speech On the Peace, in which the role model of the ancestors in upholding these principles is conspicuous (Isoc. 7).40 The complex of Athenian civic virtues, conveyed through Isocrates’s writings, thus appears at the heart of Dionysius’s cultural program, which aimed at helping the resurgence of Classicism in the Greek cities under the new order guaranteed by Rome’s hegemony. As will emerge from the following chapters, in his history of Rome Dionysius consistently ascribes the practice of (typically Greek) civic virtues to leading Roman figures as well as the Romans as a collective, in his attempt to demonstrate that the Romans, from the beginning of their civilization, had surpassed the Greeks in quintessentially Greek accomplishments (see also below, subsection 2.1.3 a).

2.1.3 The Roman Antiquities a) Purposes of Dionysius’s Work The Roman Antiquities is the product of Dionysius’s prolonged stay in Rome, his intense contacts with the contemporary cultural milieu, and the clearly positive attitude that he had towards the Roman government. His historical work relates, in twenty books, the history of Rome from its legendary period to the outbreak of the first Punic War in 264 BC—the point where Polybius’s history begins. Of the twenty original books, only eleven are preserved in their entirety, while the rest survive in a fragmentary state. In the prefatory chapters (1.1-8), Dionysius establishes the subject of his history, explains his historiographical tenets and aims, and engages with both his

40 See detailed discussion in Wiater 2011a: 71-73. On the Isocratean influence on Dionysius’s ideas cf. Gabba 1991: 33-34; Fox 1993: 41-42, 1996: 71-74; Hidber 1996: 44-56; De Jonge 2008: 13-14, 36.

Greek and Roman predecessors by defining his work in relation to them—while at the same time distancing himself from such predecessors (cf. sect. 2.1.3 d). The idea of writing a history of early Rome comes to him, as he claims, in consideration of the broad ignorance of the Greeks about Rome’s origins and the misleading views that some people were circulating about their conquerors:

For the ancient history of the Romans’ city is still unknown to almost all the Greeks, and certain opinions which are not true, but which have originated from chance rumors, have deceived the majority, on the ground that [the city] boasts some homeless people and vagabonds and barbarians as founders and these not even free men, having come to world hegemony over time not through piety and justice and the rest of virtue, but through some chance and unjust Fortune, which at random bestows the greatest blessings upon the most unfit people; and indeed the more malicious are accustomed to accuse Fortune openly since she bestows the blessings of the Greeks upon the most worthless of barbarians.41

Dionysius adds to this assertion that some historians even spread false reports about the Romans in order to gratify their “barbarian kings” (RA 1.4.3), suggesting that Greek intellectual opposition to Roman domination was not only an ongoing issue, but was also being expressed in the form of anti-Roman historiography. His statement has generally been interpreted by scholars as an allusion to Timagenes—who, as noted before, did not refrain from showing his disparagement of the Romans, including the princeps himself—as well as the Greek historians who, in the first half of the first century BC, worked at the court of Mithridates Eupator and celebrated the king’s deeds in the long years of his conflicts against Rome.42 However, this statement may also have a rhetorical meaning. As Wiater has persuasively argued, by underscoring the status of these historians as slanderers and subjects of barbarian kings, Dionysius also implicitly emphasizes their status as “non-Greeks”—inasmuch as they gave up the quintessential Greek values of freedom and justice—and contrasts himself as an advocate of those same values.43 Dionysius justifies the composition of his history by his intention to remove the “erroneous notions” (τὰς πεπλανημένας ὑπολήψεις, 1.5.1) from the minds of his readers and to replace them with true ones about Rome’s origins; specifically, that the Romans were descended from Greeks who had united in Italy after

41 RA 1.4.2: ἔτι γὰρ ἀγνοεῖται παρὰ τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ὀλίγου δεῖν πᾶσιν ἡ παλαιὰ τῆς Ῥωμαίων πόλεως ἱστορία, καὶ δόξαι τινὲς οὐκ ἀληθεῖς, ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ τῶν ἐπιτυχόντων ἀκουσμάτων τὴν ἀρχὴν λαβοῦσαι τοὺς πολλοὺς ἐξηπατήκασιν, ὡς ἀνεστίους μέν τινας καὶ πλάνητας καὶ βαρβάρους καὶ οὐδὲ τούτους ἐλευθέρους οἰκιστὰς εὐχομένης, οὐ δι᾽ εὐσέβειαν δὲ καὶ δικαιοσύνην καὶ τὴν ἄλλην ἀρετὴν ἐπὶ τὴν ἁπάντων ἡγεμονίαν σὺν χρόνῳ παρελθούσης, ἀλλὰ δι᾽ αὐτοματισμόν τινα καὶ τύχην ἄδικον εἰκῆ δωρουμένην τὰ μέγιστα τῶν ἀγαθῶν τοῖς ἀνεπιτηδειοτάτοις· καὶ οἵ γε κακοηθέστεροι κατηγορεῖν εἰώθασι τῆς τύχης κατὰ τὸ φανερὸν ὡς βαρβάρων τοῖς πονηροτάτοις τὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ποριζομένης ἀγαθά. 42 Examples include Metrodorus of Scepsis and Aesopus, who wrote encomia of the king, and Heracleides of Magnesia and Teucrus of Cyzicus, who wrote accounts of his deeds. On this portion of Dionysius’s text and the anti- Roman polemics see Bowersock 1965: 108-11; Alonso-Núñez 1982: 131-41; Gabba 1991: 36-38, 191-2; Fox 1993: 33-34; Wiater 2011a: 100-2. 43 See Wiater 2017: 249.

coming from Greek cities (RA 1.5.2), and that they had achieved world hegemony not by chance, but thanks to their own merits.44 Dionysius’s claim about the Greek origin of the Romans was not unprecedented. Even though some Greeks were probably inclined to conceive of the Romans as barbarians (as Dionysius himself asserts; cf. RA 1.4.2, above), accounts about the Greek origin of Italian peoples were popular among the Greeks—as I discuss in the next chapter with reference to Aeneas and the Trojans.45 Yet in his preface Dionysius exhibits much concern about the possible ill-will with which his account might be received, as emerges from the allusions, in the text, to the Greeks’ resentment at their subordination (cf. RA 1.5.2-3). The possibly hostile attitude towards his work, Dionysius argues, is fomented by the absence of a complete history of early Rome in the Greek language, since, before his endeavour, there were only epitomes and brief accounts available to the Greek public.46 Hence the utility of his history, which is indeed presented as filling a remarkable gap in the historiographical tradition as well as a means to dispel bitter feelings, by showing that Roman hegemony was grounded on reason (RA 1.5.2) and that the Romans were not undeserving barbarians, but right from the beginning (εὐθὺς ἐξ ἀρχῆς) they produced “countless [examples of] virtues” (μυρίας ἀρετὰς, 1.5.3), unparalleled among Greeks and barbarians (ibid). In analyzing this portion of Dionysius’s text, Wiater has convincingly established a link between the charges brought against the Romans by “certain historians” and the notion of Greek identity emerging from the reading of Isocrates’s orations, which was examined in the previous section. According to Wiater, by claiming that the Romans were homeless (ἀνεστίους), vagabonds (πλάνητας), and barbarians (βαρβάρους), not of free status (οὐδὲ ἐλευθέρους), and that they also lacked moral and civic qualities, Rome’s detractors set the Romans in a position of inferiority

44 On RA 1.5.1-2 cf. Schultze 2000: 9-10. Schultze comments on Dionysius’s language here, which appears to be a deliberate reminiscence of Herodotus’s diction in the preface of his history. Dionysius in fact states that he will prove (ἐπιδείξειν) though his history that the Romans were Greeks, and that he will relate the deeds they displayed (ἀπεδείξαντο) right after the foundation. “The interplay between ἐπιδείκνυμι (of the role of the historian) and ἀποδείκνυμι (of the deeds of the historical agents) emphasises Dionysius’s positive, encomiastic, stance, as well as suggesting the ideal unity of theme and treatment to which he (like all ancient historians) aspires. The play also clearly recalls the similar play in Herodotus’s preface, though with elegant variation between ἐπιδείκνυμι and ἀποδείκνυμι: in this way Dionysius, without explicit self-advertisement, tacitly compares himself to the great Herodotus but suggests his own creative independence” (ibid, 10). 45 Cf. Gabba 1991: 12-15; Delcourt 2005: 83-93. 46 The historians who wrote about early Roman history are cited at RA 1.6.1-2: Hieronymus of Cardia, Timaeus of Sicily, Antigonus, Polybius, and Silenus among the Greeks, Q. Fabius Pictor and L. Cincius Alimentus among the Romans writing in Greek. Silenus is known to Nepos (Hann. 13.3), Cicero (Div. 1.49), and Livy (26.49) for his account of the Hannibalic War, composed during his service with the Carthaginian leader. Cf. Cary 1937: 19 n. 3. See also section 2.1.3 d about Dionysius’s sources.

compared to the Greeks. In fact, they denied that the Romans possessed those characteristics that are emphasized in Isocrates’s orations as typical of the Athenians’ πρόγονοι—from which the allegation that the Romans’ success derived from fortuitous circumstances:47

The ‘certain’ authors refuse Rome’s hegemony as illegitimate. They perceive a strong discrepancy between Rome’s lack of tradition and her present state of power and Athens’ superior moral and political tradition and her present lack of power. Rome’s past even neatly contradicts the Classical paradigm: ‘vagabonds without house or home’ sets the Romans in stark contrast to Athenian autochthony and, going hand-in-hand with this, to the distinctly Athenian tradition of values.48

These anti-Roman historians conceive of the present situation as a continuation of the opposition between Greeks and barbarians, the latter now being the Romans. With his history, Dionysius intends to correct this view by demonstrating that in fact the Romans’ right to power results from their native Greekness, that is, from both their Greek origin (which invalidates the charge raised against them of being a barbarian people) and their Greek character, manifest in their continuous practice of Greek ancestral and civic virtues.49 This idea is repeated at the end of Roman Antiquities Book One, where Dionysius explains the formation of the Latin ethnos from the migration of various Greek groups (see chap. 3.1; cf. 4.2.1): “As a result, let everyone now confidently decide to dismiss the many views of those who make Rome a refuge of barbarians, runaways, and vagrants and declare that [Rome] is a Greek city, demonstrating that it is the most welcoming and benevolent of the cities.”50 In addition to this, Dionysius observes that, unlike other Greek colonies, which had progressively lost their Greek identity, Rome had retained most of its original Greek character despite the later admixture with the numerous (non-Greek) Italian groups that had in turn been conquered or incorporated by the Romans (1.89.3-4):

But as for all other things, which are memorials of Greek lineage, preserving them unlike any others of the colonists, since they began to live in friendship not recently—now that they have much good fortune flowing [upon them] as instructor in blessings, nor since the time they first reached out overseas after destroying the power of the Carthaginians and the Macedonians—but for the entire time since they joined in one city they have lived the Greek life and pursued nothing more remarkable in virtue now than they did before.51

47 The latter accusation was also a literary topos: in his essay On the malice of Herodotus, Plutarch observes that attributing one’s success to fortune rather than bravery, labour, or prudence was a means that malicious historians would employ to diminish the greatness of one’s action (Plut. Mor. 856b-c; Pownall 2004: 174). 48 Wiater 2011a: 187. 49 Cf. Wiater 2011a: 169-70, 185-90, and 2011b: 72-76. 50 RA 1.89.1: ὥστε θαρρῶν ἤδη τις ἀποφαινέσθω, πολλὰ χαίρειν φράσας τοῖς βαρβάρων καὶ δραπετῶν καὶ ἀνεστίων ἀνθρώπων καταφυγὴν τὴν Ῥώμην ποιοῦσιν Ἑλλάδα πόλιν αὐτήν, ἀποδεικνύμενος μὲν κοινοτάτην τε πόλεων καὶ φιλανθρωποτάτην. 51 RA 1.90.1: τὰ δὲ ἄλλα, ὁπόσα γένους Ἑλληνικοῦ μηνύματ᾽ ἐστὶν ὡς οὐχ ἕτεροί τινες τῶν ἀποικησάντων διασώζοντες, οὐ νῦν πρῶτον ἀρξάμενοι πρὸς φιλίαν ζῆν, ἡνίκα τὴν τύχην πολλὴν καὶ ἀγαθὴν ῥέουσαν διδάσκαλον ἔχουσι τῶν καλῶν οὐδ᾽ ἀφ᾽ οὗ πρῶτον ὠρέχθησαν τῆς διαποντίου τὴν Καρχηδονίων καὶ Μακεδόνων ἀρχὴν

Dionysius situates Rome’s foundation within the context of the ancient Greek practice of sending out colonists to build new settlements in times of overpopulation or scarcity of resources.52 Also, he presents the Greek βίος as a constant aspect of Rome’s existence and thus as an inherent component of Roman identity, in direct contrast with the traditional Roman motifs of the rustic life of the maiores, untouched by foreign (corrupting) influence until after the Second Punic War.53 At the same time, Dionysius’s rejection of the Punic and Macedonian Wars as a watershed in Roman history appears as a counterpoint to the argument of another prominent Greek historian, Polybius. Envisaging his narrative as a direct continuation of Polybius’s by ending his history where Polybius began, Dionysius intended his own work as a “backwards complement”54 to Polybius’s account, which in turn had been continued by Posidonius and Strabo.55 Like Dionysius, Polybius composed a historical work about Rome with the aim of explaining the reasons for Rome’s supremacy. Polybius, too, was convinced that the success of the Romans could not be ascribed to chance (Polyb. 1.63.9) and that one of its crucial factors was the superiority of the Roman constitution (Polyb. 1.1.5).56 Unlike Dionysius, however, Polybius regarded the Roman victory in the Second Punic War as the actual beginning of Rome’s imperialism: the Romans “considering that the most decisive and greatest part towards holding power over everything had been accomplished by them, felt then first confident in extending their hands towards the rest and in crossing in force to Greece and the regions in Asia.”57 This assessment is consistent with Polybius’s view of the progressive growth of the Roman state, but is clearly at odds with Dionysius’s notion that the Romans were a successful people “right from the beginning after the foundation” (RA 1.5.3). It is thus likely that Dionysius, regarding his work as a continuation in the

καταλύσαντες, ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ παντὸς οὗ συνῳκίσθησαν χρόνου βίον Ἕλληνα ζῶντες καὶ οὐδὲν ἐκπρεπέστερον ἐπιτηδεύοντες πρὸς ἀρετὴν νῦν ἢ πρότερον. 52 Cf. Gabba 1991: 98-99, 103-7; Wiater 2011b: 79-80. See discussion at chap. 3.1. 53 This motif was forged by the Romans themselves for rhetorical purposes (see Wallace-Hardill 2008: 25-26). 54 Wiater 2011a: 194. 55 The practice of setting one’s historical work in continuity with the account of a predecessor was common among ancient historians; Xenophon and Theopompus, for instance, each wrote sequels of Thucydides’s history (see Marincola 1997: 237-57). 56 I discuss Dionysius’s conception of the Roman constitution at chapters 4.2.2 and 5.1.2. 57 Polyb. 1.3.6: νομίσαντες τὸ κυριώτατον καὶ μέγιστον μέρος αὑτοῖς ἠνύσθαι πρὸς τὴν τῶν ὅλων ἐπιβολήν, οὕτως καὶ τότε πρῶτον ἐθάρσησαν ἐπὶ τὰ λοιπὰ τὰς χεῖρας ἐκτείνειν καὶ περαιοῦσθαι μετὰ δυνάμεως εἴς τε τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ τοὺς κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν τόπους.

past of Polybius’s history, also intended to disprove the idea supported by the latter that the ἀρχή of Roman power was a relatively recent attainment.58 b) Dionysius’s Historiographical Principles In describing “the qualifications of the historian,”59 Dionysius clarifies the principles that ought to underlie the composition of any historical account, assigning crucial importance to, first, the choice of an elevated subject and, secondly, the methods employed by the historian in presenting it:

For I was persuaded that it is necessary for those who decide to leave memorials of their own intellect to posterity, lest these should disappear together with their bodies over time, and most of all those who write histories, (...) first to choose subjects fair and lofty and bringing much benefit to the readers, then to procure for themselves the necessary means for writing their subject with great care and industry.60

Dionysius explains the first principle through the notion that one’s words are the mirror of one’s mind,61 and accordingly asserts that those historians who write about unworthy topics do not gain popularity or favour with posterity, since their morals will be judged on the content of their writings and they will be regarded as admirers of base deeds (1.1.3). Dionysius regards the subjects of historical works as direct manifestations of the character of their authors. Accordingly, he emphasizes the propriety of his own subject, that is, the true stories about the Romans and their exceptional deeds (1.5.2) and remarks on their durable and widespread dominion in comparison with previous world empires (1.2-3), an element that adds to the ‘grandeur’ of his choice. Wiater has rightly observed that through these statements Dionysius lays claim “to a particular ‘moral expertise’ which informs his work, and which is an essential aspect of his relationship with his reader.”62 By claiming that his purpose is to relate the truth about Rome’s beginnings, Dionysius asserts “his own commitment to truth and justice.”63 As previously considered when discussing the treatise On the Ancient Orators and Isocrates’s influence (and as will emerge again in the

58 The comparison between Polybius and Dionysius is discussed in Gozzoli 1976: 149-76; Gabba 1991: 16-18, 61- 65, 91-92; Delcourt 2005: 50-53; Hogg 2008: 54-61; Fox 2011: 106-10; Wiater ibid, 194-8; Pelling 2016: 155-6, 170-1. Cf. also Schultze 2000: 12-17 on the Roman Antiquities’ periodization. 59 Schultze 2000: 8. 60 RA 1.1.2: ἐπείσθην γὰρ ὅτι δεῖ τοὺς προαιρουμένους μνημεῖα τῆς ἑαυτῶν ψυχῆς τοῖς ἐπιγιγνομένοις καταλιπεῖν, ἃ μὴ συναφανισθήσεται τοῖς σώμασιν αὐτῶν ὑπὸ τοῦ χρόνου, καὶ πάντων μάλιστα τοὺς ἀναγράφοντας ἱστορίας, (...) πρῶτον μὲν ὑποθέσεις προαιρεῖσθαι καλὰς καὶ μεγαλοπρεπεῖς καὶ πολλὴν ὠφέλειαν τοῖς ἀναγνωσομένοις φερούσας, ἔπειτα παρασκευάζεσθαι τὰς ἐπιτηδείους εἰς τὴν ἀναγραφὴν τῆς ὑποθέσεως ἀφορμὰς μετὰ πολλῆς ἐπιμελείας τε καὶ φιλοπονίας. 61 RA 1.1.3: “Since everybody fittingly thinks that words are the images of each one’s soul” (ἐπιεικῶς γὰρ ἅπαντες νομίζουσιν εἰκόνας εἶναι τῆς ἑκάστου ψυχῆς τοὺς λόγους). Cf. discussion above, chap. 2.1.2. 62 Wiater 2017: 248. 63 Wiater 2017: 249; see whole discussion with further examples at pp. 248-57.

following chapters), Dionysius lays great importance on the ethical and moralizing function of his writings. By presenting himself as a ‘moral authority’ he also emphasizes the moral implications of his historical work, and thus its superior value compared to previous histories of Rome. As for the second point, that is, the historian’s methods, Dionysius touches upon it through several observations scattered throughout his preface. He comments, for instance, on the hasty treatment and lack of accurate investigations of early Roman history on the part of his predecessors (naming Hieronymus of Cardia, Timaeus of Sicily, Antigonus, Polybius, Silenus, and among the Romans, Q. Fabius Pictor and L. Cincius Alimentus; 1.6.1-2). He also underscores his own preparation and careful study as well as his consultation of many reliable sources (1.7.2-3). Finally, he observes that the historians before him were deterred from discussing the time period he had chosen by the difficulty of investigating it (1.8.1). The style of writing is important, too, for it has to avoid monotony and satisfy all the categories of readers (1.8.3; on Dionysius’s readership see next section, 2.1.3 c).64 These principles, which Dionysius claims to have scrupulously observed (1.8.1-3), are developed at length in his literary treatises. In particular, in the Letter to Pompeius Geminus, Dionysius identifies five essential tasks for the historian, and discusses as examples of them the works of Herodotus and Thucydides and of their ‘imitators’ (namely, Xenophon, Philistus, and Theopompus). The first task of the historian coincides with the first principle outlined in the Roman Antiquities’ preface, that is, the importance of choosing a noble subject that is pleasing to the reader (ὑπόθεσιν ἐκλέξασθαι καλὴν καὶ κεχαρισμένην τοῖς ἀναγνωσομένοις, Pomp. 3.2). In this respect, Herodotus’s history is deemed by Dionysius an excellent specimen, because it relates a major war between Greeks and barbarians, with the former triumphing over the latter (Pomp. 3.3). Thucydides’s work, on the contrary, is brought up as an example of a poor choice of subject, since it narrates the conflict that marked the decline of Greece, with the result that it alienates the readers. Dionysius quite emphatically asserts that this war should not have been conveyed to posterity, being “neither glorious nor fortunate” (οὔτε καλὸν οὔτε εὐτυχῆ, Pomp. 3.4)—with this comment remarking on the historian’s duty not to undertake the account of unworthy subjects (cf. RA 1.1.3, above). In Herodotus’s history, the Greeks are presented at their acme, while Thucydides demeans

64 On the principles expressed in Dionysius’s preface cf., in particular, Sacks 1983, esp. 74-80; Gabba 1991: 78-85; Fox 1996: 49-56; Schultze 2000: 6-17; Delcourt 2005: 47-61; and Hogg 2008: 21-38. On Dionysius’s style in relation to his predecessors cf. Usher 1982: 817-38.

the notion of the Athenian moral and political superiority: “To the extent that the story showing the wondrous deeds of Greeks and barbarians is better than the one proclaiming the pitiable and terrible misfortunes of the Greeks, Herodotus is more sensible than Thucydides in the choice of subject.”65 Dionysius substantially rejected the pragmatic purpose of history as conceived by Thucydides (which the latter explains in his preface, Thuc 1.1; cf. also Polyb. 1.1.2) in favour of a moralizing kind of history, which focused on positive exempla.66 These, as explained below, ought to be carefully selected and shaped by the historian in order to convey certain moral values as well as provide entertaining, erudite pastimes. The second task of the historian is to decide carefully where to start and where to end the narrative. Again, Herodotus is said to have made a better choice than Thucydides, since he began his account with the original injury committed against the Greeks by the barbarians and concludes it with the defeat and punishment of the latter. Thucydides, on the other hand, began his history when things started to go wrong for the Greeks and ended it with an unremarkable battle (Pomp. 3.8-9). Dionysius goes out of his way to show how ‘malevolent’ Thucydides was in this respect. He suggests that as a Greek and an Athenian (and one, moreover, who was entrusted with offices and commands) Thucydides should have chosen an episode more favourable to the Greeks to begin his account, such as their achievements after the Persian Wars. Likewise, he should have ended with a more remarkable and pleasing event. As noted for the previous task, this criticism also agrees with Dionysius’s statement in the Roman Antiquities’ preface that a historian’s morals will be judged in proportion to the stature of his narrative’s subject: the account of base deeds might mirror a base mind (or at any rate, in Thucydides’s case, base intentions; cf. RA 1.1.3, above). Next, Dionysius affirms that the historian should make a careful selection of the episodes he will include. In this task, too, Herodotus is considered superior, for “he wished to make his account varied, being an admirer of Homer” (ποικίλην ἐβουλήθη ποιῆσαι τὴν γραφὴν Ὁμήρου ζηλωτὴς γενόμενος, Pomp. 3.11), while Thucydides is accused of monotony.67 The principle of

65 Pomp. 3.6: ὅσῳ δὲ κρείττων ἡ τὰ θαυμαστὰ ἔργα δηλοῦσα Ἑλλήνων τε καὶ βαρβάρων γραφὴ τῆς τὰ οἰκτρὰ καὶ δεινὰ πάθη τῶν Ἑλλήνων διαγγελλούσης, τοσούτῳ φρονιμώτερος Ἡρόδοτος Θουκυδίδου κατὰ τὴν ἐκλογὴν τῆς ὑποθέσεως. 66 Wiater provides, in my view, the most thorough analysis of Dionysius’s “deconstruction” of Thucydides’s history and methods (2011a: 130-65). Wiater argues that Thucydides’s work represented a problem for Dionysius, for it conveyed a negative image of Athens preventing the reader from identifying with the Classical ethos, and in fact causing alienation from it (2011a: 130-1). In his treatise On Thucydides, Dionysius explains how the history of the Peloponnesian War could have been written by adhering to his own historiographical principles. See also Wiater 2011b: 62-69; cf. Aujac 1991, esp. 9-16; Gabba 1991: 60-69; Fox 1993: 37-39, 1996: 64-69; Weaire 2005: 246-66. 67 Cf., e.g., Dionysius’s assessment on Thucydides’s scarce use of excursuses, Pomp. 3.12.

variation (or ποικιλία) to which Dionysius alludes concerns both the content and the style of composition, and it is first alluded to in the Roman Antiquities’ preface, where Dionysius claims that his work will be a combination of different narrative styles in order not to result in tedium and satisfy various categories of readers. Here the histories of Attica illustrate monotonous writing (μονοειδής, RA 1.8.3). It is also implicit in Dionysius’s own selection of material—presented, again, in the preface—as Dionysius states his intention of treating a variety of topics, such as the identity and provenance of the city’s founders and how their groups came together (1.5.1), including in his narrative the most ancient legends (cf. 1.8.1, ἀπὸ τῶν παλαιοτάτων μύθων) in addition to the account of wars and constitutional matters (1.8.2). As Schultze has noted, this passage appears as a reference to Polybius, who, unlike Dionysius, explicitly omitted from his account “stories about genealogies and mythical tales and about colonies and moreover kinships and foundations” (τά τε περὶ τὰς γενεαλογίας καὶ μύθους καὶ περὶ τὰς ἀποικίας, ἔτι δὲ συγγενείας καὶ κτίσεις, Polyb. 9.2.1).68 Variety is explored as a compositional criterion in the previously mentioned essay De compositione verborum, where it is explained in terms of variation of elements within the single clause, a period, and the work at large. The most skillful writers in this respect are Herodotus, Plato, and Demosthenes (Comp. 19).69 Variety is later praised also among the qualities of Theopompus’s writings (Pomp. 6.3, treated below). As with the other tasks, in this case too the response of the reader appears to be an essential factor for Dionysius. In fact, pleasing the reader ought to be among the historian’s objectives. As for the fourth task, Dionysius maintains that the historian should arrange the material in a sensible order. A strict chronological order, like the one used by Thucydides, ought to be avoided, as it renders the narrative obscure and hard to follow. Herodotus, instead, grouped the events by topics, relating one at a time all the events concerning the individual empires. The result is that, while Thucydides breaks the unity of his subject, in Herodotus the different topics are combined into “one harmonious body” (σύμφωνον ἓν σῶμα, Pomp. 3.13-14). This principle agrees with the criterion of variety previously outlined, since a strict chronological order does not allow much liberty of composition and implies monotony. The example of the Atthidographers (οἱ τὰς Ἀτθίδας πραγματευσάμενοι, RA 1.8.3 above) is again relevant. In the cited passage, their histories

68 Schultze 2000: 10: “Dionysius intimates inclusiveness… In claiming by implication a wide appeal (a claim made explicitly … at 1.8.3), he rejects the narrow exclusiveness of Polybius.” 69 On ποικιλία in the Roman Antiquities cf. Fromentin 1998: XXXIX-XLI; XLIII-XLIV; also, Hogg 2008: 15-18.

are called chronicles (χρονικαί ἱστορίαι), since their material was organized by kingships and archonships.70 As the historian’s last task, Dionysius states the importance of keeping a fitting attitude (διάθεσις) towards the episodes he describes: like Herodotus, the historian ought to show pleasure at good events and grief at bad ones.71 Thucydides’s attitude, on the other hand, is indicative of the grudge he bore against his fellow citizens, for he relates sorrowful events in great details and glosses over joyful ones (Pomp. 3.15). Wiater interprets this passage in the following terms: “the author transfers his own feelings into reading experience and thus enables his readers to share it.”72 While this is correct, the transfer has, in my view, a pedagogical function, meaning that for Dionysius the historian signalled through his attitude how the reader ought to receive a given event or action and assess it from a moral perspective. These criteria are used by Dionysius to evaluate the work of later historians as well, in particular Xenophon, Philistus, and Theopompus.73Among them, it is Theopompus of Chios who receives the most extensive praise from Dionysius. As a historian, Theopompus is credited with having followed all the principles previously enumerated: he chose worthy subjects and arranged his material wisely; he applied care and industry to his activity, regarding history not as a mere pastime, but as a lifetime activity; and, in addition, he included in his accounts the most useful information, such as the customs of different nations, their laws and forms of government, and the lives and deeds of men (Pomp. 6.2-6). This kind of information, Dionysius specifies, is especially useful “for those who practice political philosophy” (τοῖς ἀσκοῦσι τὴν φιλοσόφον ῥητορικήν, 6.5), these also being the addressees of his own works (τοῖς περὶ τὴν φιλόσοφον ἐσπουδακόσι θεωρίαν, RA 1.8. 3, discussed below). Isocratean influence, moreover, emerges from the philosophical reflections and the observations “about justice, piety, and the other virtues” (περὶ δικαιοσύνης καὶ εὐσεβείας καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ἀρετῶν) which, Dionysius says, are scattered throughout Theopompus’s narrative (Pomp. 6.6). But the greatest quality that Dionysius ascribes to him is the investigation of “the hidden causes of the actions and of those who perform them” (τὰς ἀφανεῖς αἰτίας τῶν

70 On the Atthidographers see Harding 2007: 180-8. 71 Cf. Marincola 2003: 306-7. 72 Wiater 2011a: 140. 73 Dionysius likens Xenophon to Herodotus and Philistus to Thucydides; but while Xenophon is praised for his successful imitation of Herodotus, Philistus is criticized for having amplified the faults of Thucydides (Pomp. 4-5).

πράξεων καὶ τῶν πραξάντων αὐτὰς), “the experiences of the soul” (τὰ πάθη τῆς ψυχῆς),74 as well as his ability to uncover “the mysteries of seeming virtue and unnoticed evil” (τὰ μυστήρια τῆς τε δοκούσης ἀρετῆς καὶ τῆς ἀγνοουμένης κακίας, 6.7). Dionysius concludes by stating that although Theopompus became notorious for his moral judgments, which were often perceived as exceedingly harsh, his work may be likened to that of a surgeon, who cuts out the sick parts of the body but leaves the rest untouched (Pomp. 6.8). Theopompus, then, appears as the highest model to imitate in writing history: he devoted his life to research; he composed historical works that complied with the standards for good historiography; he showed interest in constitutional and philosophical matters (including virtues); and he offered an uncommon insight into human motives, which conferred a conspicuously moral character on his accounts. Such a highly moral and pedagogical aspect, combined with Theopompus’s concern with politics, makes his work appear to Dionysius as an Isocratean type of historiography. This idea is further justified by Dionysius’s assertion that Theopompus’s “diction is exceedingly similar to [that of] Isocrates” (ὁ δὲ λεκτικὸς Ἰσοκράτει μάλιστα ἔοικε, 6.9), for his speech is “pure” ([ἡ λέξις] καθαρά), “plain and clear” (κοινὴ καὶ σαφής), and “elevated and magnificent with much grandeur” (ὑψηλή τε καὶ μεγαλοπρεπὴς καὶ τὸ πομπικὸν ἔχουσα πολύ, ibid).75 Considering Dionysius’s ideas about the unity of style and morals (cf. chap. 2.1.2), it is evident that Theopompus is presented here as Isocrates’s heir not only for style but also for his moral lessons (though the actual relationship between the orator and the historian is disputed).76 In illustrating the principles that regulate his own activity as historian, Dionysius places his work in line with Herodotus’s and especially Theopompus’s histories. First of all, Dionysius provides detailed reasons to substantiate his claim of having chosen a noble subject. Besides the previously mentioned greatness of the Roman Empire, Dionysius justifies his decision by the scarcity of complete historical accounts of early Rome in the Greek language and their lack of accuracy (RA 1.5.4). The use of accuracy or ἀκρίβεια is stressed as an important factor in writing history. As I discuss in the next section, however, the exact interpretation of this term is debated

74 On the importance of emotions as motivating forces for the historical actors see MacMullen 2003; Marincola 2003: 285-315 (on Dionysius specifically, pp. 291-2, 309-10); Wiater 2011a: 128-30. 75 On the relation between Dionysius and Theopompus cf. Gozzoli 1976, esp. 160-7; Wiater 2011a: 151-4. On Theopompus’ career and historiographical principles see Flower 1994; Pownall 2004: 143-75, 2005: 255-78; Hau 2016: 258-70. 76 In particular, Flower (1994: 42-62; followed by Hau 2016: 258) argues that neither Theopompus nor Ephorus were pupils of Isocrates, and their presumed association with him is a later fabrication.

(chap. 2.1.3 d). Clemence Schultze argues that it indicates “fullness [of details] rather than precision or discrimination,”77 thereby suggesting that Dionysius was interested in giving a historical account as complete as possible, in contrast with the cursory treatment of the same subjects handed down by his predecessors (cf. RA 1.6.1-2). Secondly, as noted above, Dionysius repeatedly emphasizes his care and precision in collecting and reporting the historical material (RA 1.7), in this likening himself to Theopompus. Thirdly, he selects the starting and ending points of his account judiciously, since he starts his narrative with Rome’s early beginning, a period that was mostly passed over in silence by other historians, and he concludes it with the outbreak of the First Punic War, that is, the beginning of a period comprehensively treated by other writers (such as Polybius; RA 1.8.1). As for the events included in his narrative, Dionysius’s summary at RA 1.8.3 closely recalls the topics that he commends in Theopompus’s history: the wars fought by the Romans, with explanations of their causes and of how they were ended; and the forms of government that the Romans adopted, their customs and laws. Furthermore, like Theopompus, Dionysius also envisioned a marked didactic and moral function for his work, which could aid his readers in their pursuit of political and philosophical interests.78 Besides filling a notable gap in historiography, Dionysius contends that his work will produce a number of positive results: first of all, with a statement recalling Herodotus’s words, Dionysius asserts that it will give immortal glory to the great men of the past, so that their deeds will be extolled by posterity (RA 1.6.3; cf. Hdt. 1 praef.); secondly, in emphasizing the pedagogical and moralizing implications of history, Dionysius states that his account will provide examples of excellence for the young generation and the descendants of illustrious Romans, who will feel the desire to emulate their ancestors (RA 1.6.4, cf. 1.5.3; see next section on readership). Lastly, remarking on his own ethics, Dionysius claims that his work will give him the opportunity to show his goodwill towards those men “who are fond of good and great deeds” (φιλοθεώρους τῶν καλῶν ἔργων καὶ μεγάλων, RA 1.6.5)—a statement that complements Dionysius’s presentation as a ‘moral authority’ (cf. section a, above).

77 Schultze 1986: 126; cf. Verdin 1974: 301-3; Gabba 1991: 81-82. Thucydides also sets much importance on ἀκρίβεια in his historical account and in history writing in general, although in his case the term evidently refers to the precision and reliability of a report (cf., e.g., Thuc. 1.22.1, 1.97.2, 5.20.2, 5.68.2, 6.54.1. I thank Frances Pownall for this observation). 78 Dionysius’s historiographical principles and his letter to Pompeius have been discussed by Gozzoli 1976: 151-4, 160-7; Sacks 1983: 65-87; Schultze 1986: 124-7, 2000: 8-12, 19-21; Gabba 1991: 60-63, 65-69, 75-78; Fox 1993: 32-33, 1996: 63-71, 2001: 76-93; Delcourt 2005: 47-53; Wiater 2011a: 130-54.

c) Dionysius’s Readership By describing the purposes and valuable effects of his undertaking (cf. respectively, subsections 2.1.3 a and b, above), Dionysius also gives some indications about the composition of his intended audience, suggesting that his work addressed primarily a Greek readership, who were not familiar with Roman history and often entertained false opinions about it (cf. RA 1.4.2) and, in addition, members of the Roman aristocracy, who were the descendants of the characters celebrated in Dionysius’s account (cf. RA 1.6.4): “His audience consists of the upper classes of imperial society, above all those in the Greek cities,” as Gabba conveniently puts it.79 But the question of what sort of public Dionysius was addressing is not as straightforward as it may first appear. There are indications in his work that suggest that Dionysius conceived of his audience in terms of ethnicity. A few textual references show that Dionysius had undoubtedly a Greek public in mind—such as the frequent translations into Greek (with explanations and comparisons) of names concerning Roman magistrates and institutions,80 and Dionysius’s statement, in the story of Brutus’s sons, that the account about their death, which was ordered by their own father, may appear “bitter and incredible to the Greeks” (δέδοικα μὴ σκληρὰ καὶ ἄπιστα τοῖς Ἕλλησι δόξω λέγειν), whereas the Romans took much pride in it (RA 5.8.1; cf. chap. 5.1.3). On the other hand, there are also elements that suggest that one should not take ethnic distinctions too rigidly. For example, among his purposes Dionysius includes his intention to make a “grateful return” (χαριστηρίους ἀμοιβάς) to the city for the education and the other blessings he enjoyed there (RA 1.6.5); but, it is worth remembering, his network of friendships in the capital comprised both learned Romans and Greeks (cf. chap. 2.1.1). Also, at the end of his preface, Dionysius divides his readers into three, rather fluid, categories: “those who spend their time in political discourses” (τοῖς περὶ τοὺς πολιτικοὺς διατρίβουσι λόγους), “those occupied with philosophical speculation” (τοῖς περὶ τὴν φιλόσοφον ἐσπουδακόσι θεωρίαν), and “whoever will desire untroubled diversion in historical readings” (εἴ τισιν ἀοχλήτου δεήσει διαγωγῆς ἐν ἱστορικοῖς ἀναγνώσμασιν, RA 1.8.3). Overall, these categories seem to point to a large audience of Greek-speaking people, comprising statesmen, active scholars, and in general educated people

79 Gabba 1991: 80. 80 Notably in the account of the Romulean constitution; cf, e.g., RA 2.7.3-4, 8.1, 12.3, 13.2, 14.4, 22.2-3, 23.2, 25.2. Cf. also the account of Numa’s institution of priestly colleges, 2.64.2-4, 70, 71.4, 72.1-3, 73.1-3.

moved by a genuine intellectual curiosity. This broad readership is mentioned again in the preface that Dionysius inserts at the beginning of his second decade:

The men who are involved in public administration, among whom I for my part also place those philosophers who regard philosophy as the practice not of discourses but of fine deeds, share it in common with all other human beings, that they are delighted by a complete exposition of the circumstances that follow events.81

Scholars dealing with the question of Dionysius’s readership seem to be divided in two groups, with some supporting the idea of an ethnically identified public and some arguing for a mixed readership identified by their intellectual backgrounds.82 In an influential contribution, Nino Luraghi has attempted to combine the two proposals contending that Dionysius wrote primarily for a Roman audience, whom he wanted to lecture on moral decline, but did so by ostensibly addressing a Greek public, whom he sought to educate in ancient Roman history and customs.83 While Luraghi’s position is not widely shared by scholars, it has brought up a fundamental aspect in the discussion about Dionysius’s readership, in that Luraghi points out that “Roman sensitivities must have posed a challenge for a Greek writing Roman history.”84 Therefore the question must be regarded from a broader perspective than that of ethnicity or intellectual interests, one which also accounts for Dionysius’s position as a foreign intellectual in Rome and the intellectual mobility of the late first century BC. More recently, Daniel Hogg has emphasized the “international scope” of the Roman Antiquities. In response to Luraghi’s argument, Hogg observes that it is not just the Romans who are lectured on proper behaviour. The Greeks are often openly blamed by Dionysius and come out of the comparison with the Romans quite badly: “Dionysius’s work has a global perspective, in that Dionysius attempts to speak to both Greeks and Romans. At the same time, he marries the academic interests of first-century Rome with the encyclopaedism and scale we associate with the Greek literature of the Second Sophistic.”85 Dionysius, we may

81 RA 11.1.4: τοῖς δὲ πολιτικοῖς ἀνδράσιν, ἐν οἷς ἔγωγε τίθεμαι καὶ τοὺς φιλοσόφους, ὅσοι μὴ λόγων, ἀλλ᾽ ἔργων καλῶν ἄσκησιν ἡγοῦνται τὴν φιλοσοφίαν, τὸ μὲν ἥδεσθαι τῇ παντελεῖ θεωρίᾳ τῶν παρακολουθούντων τοῖς πράγμασι κοινὸν ὥσπερ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἀνθρώποις ὑπάρχει. Cf. RA 5.75.1, in which Dionysius includes in the category of political readers not only leaders and lawgivers, but also those who aspire to participate in public life. 82 Within the first group some argue for a primarily Greek audience: Gabba 1991: 79-80; Capdeville 1993: 172; Fox 1993: 34; Fromentin 1993: 177-92; Galinsky 1996: 340-1; others for a primarily Roman: Palm 1959: 10-11; Hill 1961: 88-93; Bowersock 1965: 130-32; Luraghi 2003: 270-7. Among those who support the idea of a mixed audience cf. Schultze 1986: 136-9; Hidber 1996: 78 n. 325; Fromentin 1998: XXXV-XXXVII, 2001:125; Delcourt 2005: 65-69; Weaire 2005: 246-7; Hogg 2013: 141-2. 83 Luraghi 2003: 268-86. 84 Weaire 2005: 246 (commenting on Luraghi’s article); cf. Hogg 2013: 149-50 (below). 85 Hogg 2013: 149-50, see full discussion at pp. 148-51. Wiater (2011a: 204-5 n. 525) supports a similar view, though he expresses it in a more concise form. Cf. also Martin 1998: 295-306; Fox 2001: 80-81.

conclude, envisioned his work as a possession for all the learned people of the Empire, who could use it as a guide for political advice as well as a ‘dispensary’ of moral examples. d) Dionysius’s Sources and Method Dionysius quotes an impressive number of authors in the surviving text of the Roman Antiquities: over fifty, including Greek poets, philosophers and historians, and Roman writers.86 Some are mentioned, even anonymously,87 for criticism. As Schultze has observed, Dionysius generally avoids censoring other writers openly, but he does engage in implicit criticism with the aim of distancing himself from his predecessors.88 This attitude is illustrated at the very outset of his work. In the opening sentence of the preface, Dionysius declares his unwillingness to indulge in self- praise, contrasting his attitude to that of Anaximenes and Theopompus (RA 1.1.1). Schultze, again, supplies a persuasive interpretation of Dionysius’s attitude:

Unwilling to speak of his own person (to the point of not even registering his identity), he is yet in a position where by convention he has to do so; disavowing criticism, he nevertheless criticizes. The effect of naming and blaming Anaximenes and Theopompus for their negative and critical approach is twofold: he brings to the fore source questions and invites comparison with some distinguished predecessors.89

Seven historians—all writing in Greek—are further mentioned in the preface (Hieronymus of Cardia, Timaeus of Sicily, Antigonus, Polybius, Silenus, Q. Fabius Pictor, and L. Cincius Alimentus, RA 1.6.1-2) since they treated Rome’s early past in their works (and thus are subtly indicated as predecessors of Dionysius). By stating that these writers failed to provide satisfactory accounts of the period in question, Dionysius emphasizes the validity of both his choice of subject matter as a previously neglected topic and his working method, which involves an accurate treatment of the material and a detailed exposition (see chap. 2.1.3 b).90 The actual description of Dionysius’s sources is given later in the preface, after he expounds the reasons for his choice of subject and the purposes of his work (RA 1.4-6). This description is introduced by the remark that the readers who are familiar with the works of Hieronymus, Timaeus, Polybius, and the others previously cited in the text could accuse Dionysius of inventing things, since they would not find

86 See the complete list in Schultze 2000: 22-23; cf. Mora 1995: 350-76; Hogg. 2013: 146-7. 87 Such as the anonymous anti-Roman historians alluded to RA 1.4.2-3; cf. Marincola 1997: 234; Hogg 2008: 45. On the ways in which Dionysius assesses earlier writers cf. Schultze 2000: 33-40. 88 Schultze 2000: 6-8. 89 Schultze 2000: 7. 90 Marincola 1997: 244-5; Schultze 2000: 10-11.

in those authors several details that Dionysius includes in his narrative. The list of sources is thus needed to prevent false opinions about Dionysius (RA 1.7.1):

And having received some information by means of instruction from the very learned men with whom I came into contact, and having collected other from the histories which the [historians] of the Romans approved by them have written, Porcius Cato, Fabius Maximus, Valerius Antias, Licinius Macer, the Aelii, Gellii, and Calpurnii, and many other not obscure men in addition to them, taking my start from these works (they are like the Greek chronological records), I set then to work on the text.91

It is notable that all these authors wrote in Latin, an element which underscores Dionysius’s “bilingual (and in a sense bicultural) mastery,” as Schultze puts it.92 Also, by citing Latin authors as the basis for his work, Dionysius detaches himself from other Greek-writing historians and emphasizes “his continuity with the Roman tradition, presenting himself, like Herodotus, (...) as a Greek writing of foreign lands and basing his work on that land’s native records.”93 But the use of sources in the body of his narrative goes beyond the citation of these seven Latin authors. In Book One, which is pivotal for demonstrating the Greek origin of the Romans and mostly deals with mythical material, Dionysius cites over forty writers, naming many more than once. These sources are distinguished for their variety, including both Greek and Roman authors, historians, and poets.94 Schultze has emphasized that the practices of the early section (Books One to Four, especially Book One) differ from those of the rest of the Roman Antiquities. In the later books the sources are mostly Roman authors and are cited only in specific instances: “The subject-matter of Book One is of its very nature intensely problematic and hence requires extensive citation. Such citations demonstrate the diversity of the ‘historical’ record; when they have been properly sifted, some prove authoritative and prove the historian’s judgement.”95 Hogg has stressed that the extensive citation in Book One presents an “ultra-scholarly style,” which matches both Roman antiquarianism and Alexandrian “elitist obscurantism,” and points towards Dionysius’s attempts at internationalization of his oeuvre.96 As Hogg argues, Book One, with its

91 RA 1.7.3: καὶ τὰ μὲν παρὰ τῶν λογιωτάτων ἀνδρῶν, οἷς εἰς ὁμιλίαν ἦλθον, διδαχῇ παραλαβὼν, τὰ δ᾽ ἐκ τῶν ἱστοριῶν ἀναλεξάμενος, ἃς οἱ πρὸς αὐτῶν ἐπαινούμενοι Ῥωμαίων συνέγραψαν Πόρκιός τε Κάτων καὶ Φάβιος Μάξιμος καὶ Οὐαλέριος ὁ Ἀντιεὺς καὶ Λικίνιος Μάκερ Αἴλιοί τε καὶ Γέλλιοι καὶ Καλπούρνιοι καὶ ἕτεροι συχνοὶ πρὸς τούτοις ἄνδρες οὐκ ἀφανεῖς, ἀπ᾽ ἐκείνων ὁρμώμενος τῶν πραγματειῶν εἰσὶ δὲ ταῖς Ἑλληνικαῖς χρονογραφίαις ἐοικυῖαἰ, τότε ἐπεχείρησα τῇ γραφῇ. 92 Schultze 2000: 21. 93 Marincola 1997: 245, cf. 244-6. 94 Many of these are otherwise unknown and seem to have been obscure even at Dionysius’s time. Hogg argues that the employment of erudite material set Dionysius’s work in the tradition of Alexandrian scholarship (2013: 147). 95 Schultze 2000: 31. 96 Hogg 2013: 147, see full discussion at 145-8. On the independent character of Book One and Dionysius’s peculiar use of sources in it, cf. also Gabba 1991: 96-98.

separate character and numerous citations, was intended to be more mobile than large histories and thus reach more collections than the work at large:

To permit book 1 a life independent of the rest of the Antiquities allows Dionysius’s work to spread beyond the large collections concentrated in the major public libraries. The Antiquities may then be truly international in more than an academic or abstract sense. The scholar who read and benefited from the first book could then turn to the full set, which would be held in fewer places. Within this larger work then resides Dionysius’s claim to monumentality: within the single volume, his international reach.97

As for Dionysius’s methodology, one of his most distinctive ways of presenting a historical account is to offer alternative variants of the same story (not necessarily quoting the identity of his sources) and comment on the plausibility of the versions proposed or the credibility of the source(s) used. Sometimes the last word is left to the reader. Wiater argues that in this case the freedom of choice is only apparent, since Dionysius directs the preferences of his reader toward specific choices. In particular, Dionysius’s strategy consists in presenting different versions, one of which appears straightforward and is usually related by a source that Dionysius indicates as reliable, the others being chaotic and/or overtly discredited by Dionysius. The purpose of applying this methodology, according to Wiater, is for Dionysius to show to the readers their lack of competence and thus the necessity of their relying on Dionysius’s expertise. It is therefore a device to enhance Dionysius’s authority as narrator (I discuss this matter again with specific examples at chapters 3.3.1 and 4.2, intro).98 Schultze, in addition, has classified the criteria by which Dionysius favours one source over the others and evaluates different variants of the same story. Concerning the assessment of his sources, Schultze indicates antiquity as possibly the most important factor for Dionysius, followed by reliability, personal status and general standing of the writer(s), and the existence of further testimonies (including material evidence) when using local historians.99 Likewise, Schultze identifies three main—though not rigid—principles by which Dionysius states his preferred version of a story: 1) the presence of supporting evidence including authoritative testimonies, inscriptions, and monuments; 2) his own “reasoned arguments,” generally backed up by supporting evidence; 3) and the general probability that something did (or did not) occur.100 To these considerations we may add Dionysius’s frequent practice of giving a full and precise exposition of an event. “One of the merits of his precision (ἀκρίβεια) lay in a richness of

97 Hogg 2013: 147-8. 98 Wiater 2017: 236-47. 99 See Schultze 2000: 33-37 with examples. 100 Schultze 2000: 42-45.

detail.”101 As Gabba puts it, this “fullness of historical description” achieves an important result, by allowing “the reader to partake in every detail of an event.”102 In other words, a complete account, including all details, permits a better understanding of the events related and the motivations behind the actions. This notion is first outlined in Dionysius’s prefatory statements, where he criticizes his predecessors for their cursory treatment of early Roman history and declares his intention to remedy to such neglect by writing an accurate account (ἀκριβής ἱστορία), which includes everything worthy of historical record (RA 1.5.2, 5.4, 6.1-3).103 He further elaborates on this concept right after the account of Coriolanus’s trial, where Dionysius justifies his choice of reporting all the speeches made during the trial by the participants with his intention to make the respective motives for the patricians’ and plebeians’ resolutions intelligible to the readers (7.66.1- 3). Again, during the narrative of the decemvirate—in the passage just mentioned with reference to Dionysius’s readership—Dionysius asserts that history requires a full exposition of the causes in order to produce intellectual enjoyment and useful teaching for his readers (11.1).104 One last point worth mentioning concerns Dionysius’s approach towards myths. Dionysius does not object against the insertion of mythical accounts in history, such as, for instance, Polybius does (cf. Polyb. 9.2).105 Mythical accounts are in fact amply integrated in the structure of the Roman Antiquities, and especially in the first four books, which abound in legendary material. Valerie Fromentin argues, in a seminal article, that Dionysius incorporated supernatural occurrences whenever these helped him achieve his aim of demonstrating the Romans’ Greek origin, and that overall the use of the supernatural was compatible with Dionysius’s idea of historiography as a ‘mélange’ of different genres (cf. RA 1.8.3).106 Gabba, on the other hand, maintains that Dionysius tended to leave out of his narrative myths involving divine intervention in human affairs and in fact noticed the absence of myths from Roman religion (RA 2.18.3, below). In relating portents, Dionysius assumes a sort of ‘agnostic’ attitude: “he refuses to pursue a specific discussion of the gods or mythology and restricts himself to recording what was to be found in Roman histories.”107 More recently, Lindsay Driediger-Murphy has enriched the debate by

101 Gabba 1991: 82; see full discussion with examples at pp. 80-85. 102 Gabba 1991: 81; cf. Schultze 1986: 126-7. 103 Schultze 2000: 10; cf. chap. 2.1.3 b, above. 104 Oakley 2010: 119-20. 105 Cf. Gozzoli 1976, esp. 150-2, 158, 164-5; Fromentin 1988: 323; Engels 2012: 155. 106 Fromentin 1988: 318-26; cf. Driediger-Murphy’s criticism in Driediger-Murphy 2014: 331 n. 11. On the ‘slippery’ distinction between myth and history in Dionysius see Gabba 1984a: 860-3; Schultze 2001: 40-42. 107 Gabba 1991: 124, see discussion at pp. 118-25.

showing that, in his inclusion or rejection of certain mythical accounts, Dionysius was moved by personal theological and philosophical beliefs: “the criteria by which he made his selection were ‘theological’ in that they depended on his own ideas about what the gods were like, and what they were and were not capable of.”108 A clear example of this is the account of the rape of Ilia, Romulus’s mother. Dionysius rejects the idea that it was Mars who committed it on the ground that gods are by nature incapable of base actions (RA 1.77). Dionysius applies his own “correct theology,” largely based on moral standards, to the Romans: in the account of the Romulean constitution, he has Romulus purify Roman religion by eliminating all the myths that contained unworthy stories about the gods; in this way, we are told, Romulus accustomed the people to think of their deities in the highest possible manner (2.18.3).109 Romulus’s laudable initiative beneficially affected the Romans’ religious practices, which were thereafter celebrated for avoiding excesses and for showing unparalleled reverence for the gods (2.19.1-2). Driediger-Murphy has thus offered a more nuanced interpretation of the matter, in contrast with previous scholars who were inclined to conceive of Dionysius’s attitude towards myths as “monolithic, intended either to produce a ‘bizarre rationalization of myth’ that turned mythical figures into historical ones, or to stake a place in contemporary debate about whether the gods intervened in human life.”110 My analysis of relevant episodes in the following chapters (cf. especially chap. 3.3.3) will show that an unequivocal interpretation of Dionysius’s approach to mythical material is indeed hardly possible. While his narrative choices generally have a moral and pedagogical motivation—which he makes clear in instances where, for example, an unbecoming behaviour is ascribed by others to the gods (as in the previously mentioned case of Mars and Ilia)—in other instances the absence of comments on the mythical material reported appears problematic, as the reader has to figure out whether Dionysius incorporated such material simply because he found it in the pre-existing tradition, or he thought it useful to prove certain points (I discuss some examples in the above-mentioned chap. 3.3.3).

108 Driediger-Murphy 2014: 332. 109 Driediger-Murphy 2014: 342. Cf. Muntz 2017: 127-8. 110 Driediger-Murphy 2014: 331. The two references for this quote are Fox 1996: 78, 80, and Wiseman 2002: 348, 353-354. For a full discussion of Dionysius’s philosophical background, see Goudriaan 1989: 381-433.

2.2 Dionysius and the ‘Forefathers’ of Rome: Previous Scholarly Interpretations and a Proposal for a New Reading

2.2.1 The Roman Antiquities in the Augustan Age: Previous Scholarly Positions

In this section, I discuss the relationship between Augustus’s political and cultural program and Dionysius’s historical account, with an overview of previous literature on this topic. While the idea of a direct influence of Augustan motifs on the Roman Antiquities remains conjectural, a full understanding of Dionysius’s narrative cannot be separated from the cultural and political milieu in which it was conceived. In this discussion, I also outline the position of the present dissertation, which builds upon existing positions to explore new facets of Dionysius’s work. Previous studies of Dionysius have expressed differing opinions regarding his views on Augustus and, in general, the relationship between the text of the Roman Antiquities and Augustus’s policies. The difficulty of this assessment is caused by at least two factors: the scarcity of explicit references in the text to Augustus and directly related matters, and the divergence between Dionysius’s main proposition about the inherent Greekness of the Romans and other contemporary views about Rome’s origin, which emphasized its Italian ethnic component as well as the Italian participation in its early stages. As for the first point, we may observe that the princeps is named only once in the Roman Antiquities and with a purely chronological purpose, with Dionysius commenting on his own arrival at Rome (RA 1.7.2). Later in the narrative, in a brief note about Aeneas’s offspring, Dionysius refers to the Julii as descendants of Iulus, stating that they had become the most illustrious of the Roman gentes (RA 1.70.4). This compliment is isolated, however, and, apart from these two instances, Dionysius remains silent on Augustus. Nonetheless, some scholars have detected references to the emperor in portions of the texts that seem to evoke his figure. P.-M. Martin, for example, opened his 1971 article with the following statement: “Une analyse détaillée du livre 1 des Antiquités romaines de Denys d’Halicarnasse permet de déceler la présence insidieuse, mais constante et efficace, de la propagande augustéenne, que la rareté des allusions à Auguste ayait jusqu’à présent masquée.”111 Specifically, Martin has argued that Dionysius made subtle references to Augustus in his depiction of Evander, Heracles, Aeneas, and Romulus.112 More recently, Sandrine Crouzet has contended that references to

111 Martin 1971: 162. 112 Martin 1971: 162-79.

Augustan ideas may be detected in Dionysius’s description of Romulus’s constitution, and especially in his insistence on the civic virtues of the Romans, which would reflect the contemporary emphasis at Rome on ancestral mores.113 Anouk Delcourt, whose monograph is the most detailed on the Roman Antiquities to date, cautiously suggests that, while evidence for any direct influence of Augustus’s ideas on Dionysius is limited, his work contains resonances of it (“il n’en reste pas moins que l’ombre du principat plane sur les Antiquités romaines”).114 In his influential 1991 collection of lectures, Emilio Gabba warns against this kind of approach, which looks for hidden praise of Augustus, and, referring specifically to Martin’s article, he comments: “the laudatory allusions to Augustus that some scholars have tried to detect in Dionysius’s work seem to me nonexistent. (...) [Dionysius] was more concerned with the new historical reality, its cultural presuppositions, and its political and social functions than with the form of its government or the dominant ideology expounded by the princeps.”115 Gabba’s position seems to me to reflect Dionysius’s intents more accurately. Echoes of contemporary themes in his work are undeniable—it would be unusual otherwise, considering his social and intellectual environment—but they are not automatically indications of Dionysius’s adherence to Augustan political ideas. In the preface to the Roman Antiquities, Dionysius makes it clear that his work has a pedagogical purpose for its readers of both Greek and Roman ethnicities/nationalities, and this education aims, for both groups, at the formation of virtuous citizens who could contribute to the socio-political development of their country. The support that Dionysius shows for Roman rule implies his alignment with the current ‘ideology’ insofar as the latter grants the cultural flourishing of Italy and Greece and the maintenance of a certain social order; other motives for his favourable attitude towards Rome are, in my view, rather speculative. I will return to this subject in the following chapters, when discussing specific examples of contemporary themes emerging from Dionysius’s account. As I will argue, when Dionysius uses contemporary motifs, it is not primarily (or not necessarily) to show his personal support of the Augustan regime; instead, he appropriates such themes to his own historiographical aims, and specifically to show the Greek origins and ever-present components of the Romans’ identity, as well as the advantages for the Greeks to have been incorporated in the greatest and best-governed of all the empires.

113 Crouzet makes specific reference to the virtues inscribed on the clipeus virtutis, which would be echoed in the civic virtues upheld by Romulus’s institutions (2000: 159-72; contra Delcourt 2005: 297 and Wiater 2011: 207). 114 Delcourt 2005: 369, cf. 363-9. 115 Gabba 1991: 212-3.

The second factor that has generated divergent readings of Dionysius’s text represents a more complex issue. To illustrate it, I will discuss the 1961 article by H. Hill. While Hill’s position may be regarded as quite extreme and is now largely considered outdated, his work on Dionysius made a certain impact, and indeed has been frequently cited in later scholarship. Summarizing his main points, Hill remarks on the contrast between Dionysius’s position and the ‘official’ version of Rome’s origin given by Virgil, Horace, and Livy—“the Augustans”116—who stressed the Italian roots of the Roman people, proposing that “Dionysius was reacting as vigorously as he dared against the general Roman prejudice against the Greeks and, in particular, against the official propaganda of Augustus.”117 Hill’s argument is quite straightforward: “the picture of the Greeks which Virgil has given in the Aeneid is an unfavourable one and ... this was dictated by the nature of his theme, which in turn was imposed by the official propaganda of Augustus. Dionysius, by stressing the Greek origins of Rome, was in contradiction to that propaganda.”118 While this view of Augustan literature as a vehicle of propaganda is obsolete (see discussion below), Hill’s basic argument may still stand and may thus be taken to illustrate a plausible point: Dionysius’s theory on the Greek origin of the Romans ran counter to the dominant contemporary view. Gabba, again, has provided—in my view—the best solution to this uncertainty. Looking at Dionysius’s proposition from a larger perspective, which takes into account not only contemporary literature, but also earlier traditions, Gabba observes: “with more complicated intentions, [Dionysius] was reviving a theme [i.e., the Greek origin of the Romans] that had been fully present to both Roman and Greek historians from the fourth to the second century BC, and whose origins were of even greater antiquity.”119 As I will consider in detail in Chapter Three, the notion of a Greek foundation for Rome was already present in fifth-century BC Greek writers, and acquired particular importance from the fourth to the second centuries BC, as Rome tied its contact with the Greek cities, first of southern Italy and later of the eastern Mediterranean. The version of the Trojan foundation was not in opposition with it; in fact, both variants belonged to the same set of traditions about the founding of cities by the survivors of the Trojan War.120 The view that became popular in the late first century BC, which accentuated the Italian element in the ethnic composition of

116 Hill 1961: 92; see full discussion at pp. 88-93. Hill’s overall argument is accepted by Hurst 1982, cf. esp. 861-4. 117 Hill 1961: 89. 118 Hill 1961: 92. 119 Gabba 1991: 12. 120 Cf. Gabba 1991: 9-15.

early Rome, owed much to the recent experience of the Social War and the extension of Roman citizenship to and political involvement of the Italian communities, which was openly supported by Augustus’s policies. Moreover—as, again, Gabba has noted—Dionysius’s argument conveniently answered the accusations of those writers who still viewed the Romans as barbarians, so it could hardly be read as an anti-Roman statement.121 As for Virgil’s ideas specifically, I will discuss them again in the next chapter, so I limit myself here to a few observations. Gabba contends that the distance between the poet’s and Dionysius’s positions is smaller than it may first appear: “The reason for this is the clearly expressed awareness, in both writers, of a capacity in the Greek nucleus of the Roman people for cultural attraction to other populations who are little by little absorbed into a unitary complex.”122 According to Gabba, Virgil reconciles the tension between Greeks and Trojans on the Italian soil through the mediation of Evander and Aeneas; whereas Dionysius, ascribing Greek origins to the Trojans, outdoes Virgil and proposes a more radical solution to such tension.123 Wiater has offered an explanation to this matter in slightly different terms in his recent contribution to the study of Dionysius.124 He argues that Dionysius’s view of the Romans as inherently Greeks was not in opposition to the ideas expressed specifically by the Augustan writers, but rather to the general inclination of the Romans not to regard one people as their ancestors.125 The latter was also the view adopted by Virgil and integrated, through the Aeneid, into the framework of the Augustan ethos. Dionysius, therefore, “contradicts the general idea behind the Aeneid, but not the fact that this idea was part of Augustus’s programme.”126 Wiater

121 Gabba 1991: 11. Gabba was among the first scholars to acknowledge that the Roman Antiquities deserved more than a “stratigraphic examination” (ibid, 10) to identify Dionysius’s sources, and it could make a valuable contribution to our knowledge of the period if studied on its own right. The approach of the scholars who used Dionysius’s work to seek information about Roman annalists was criticized by Gabba not only because it obscures Dionysius’s own historiographical methods and motivations, but also because the annalists’ themes are readapted by Dionysius to a new cultural ad methodological context, and thus they scarcely reflect the intentions of their originals (see Gabba 1991: 9-15; cf. 1-9, and 1979: 1033-49 for a discussion of the early twentieth-century scholarship). 122 Gabba 1991: 117. The Greek nucleus in Virgil’s account is represented by Evander and his people. 123 Gabba 1991: 116-7. Although, as Adam Kemezis brought to my attention, one could object that the question of Aeneas and his people’s ethnicity (Trojan, Italian, or even Greek) is never really settled in the Aeneid and remains a site of tension and ambivalence (cf., in particular, the final dialogue between Juno and Jupiter at Aen. 12.791-842). 124 Wiater 2011a. Although Wiater’s monograph focuses on Dionysius’s activity as a literary critic, it contains an insightful chapter on the Roman Antiquities, which in particular analyzes the aims of Dionysius’s work and its relation to Dionysius’s rhetorical writings (especially his treatise On Thucydides and his Letter to Pompeius). 125 Wiater 2011a: 213. Cf. Woolf 1994: 120: “Romans did not conceive of their identity as underwritten by a unique language or a common descent in the same way that some others (including Greeks) did, and their traditions of origin stressed the progressive incorporation of outsiders.” On the Latin and Trojan ethnicity in Roman family identity at the time of Augustus see Lee-Stecum 2014, esp. 460-4. 126 Wiater 2011a: 214.

links this notion with Dionysius’s conception of the Romulean constitution as a fully working form of government at its inception—which is at odds with the Roman view of its gradual development—and with Dionysius’s attribution of the Romans’ virtues to their Greek origin, an argument which was strongly opposed by Roman moralists, and Cicero in particular (cf. Tusc. 1.2).127 Wiater concludes that these examples show that Dionysius’s description of early Rome was not at variance with a specific ideology, “but with contemporary Roman conceptions of Roman identity and attempts of upper-class Romans to distinguish themselves from the Greeks.”128 As Wiater has further observed, positions such as those of Martin and Hill argue for a pro- or anti- Augustan reading of Dionysius’s work. But such an approach has begun to appear increasingly problematic to scholars, since it presupposes the existence of an official ‘propaganda’ that the contemporary writers were required to subscribe to: “The idea of a ‘static’ Augustan propaganda, in the sense of a one-way imposition of directives, should be replaced with a conception of Augustan policy as a dynamic process.”129 This view overall agrees with the previously-illustrated position of Gabba, which is largely shared, with a few exceptions,130 by scholars dealing with Dionysius’s historical work as well as Augustan literature in general.131 Wiater, then, approaches Dionysius’s historical work from a different angle, that is, in terms of the “relationship between Greek culture and Roman power. (...) Roman power was a Greek problem, and the Greeks were interested in finding an explanation for it which could be reconciled with their cultural and political tradition.”132 Wiater argues that, while Dionysius’s portrait of the Romans is generally favourable to them, “the Antiquitates reduces the Romans’ political system, their moral standards, and their ethnic origins to a consequence of Greek influence upon Roman society.”133 Through his stance, he maintains, Dionysius encouraged his Greek readers to regard themselves as superior to the Romans on account of their continual moral and cultural guidance. Unlike most scholars,134 Wiater concludes:

127 To Cicero I would add Livy: cf., e.g., his criticism of the fable relating that King Numa was a disciple of Pythagoras; Livy’s objection is not merely grounded on chronological reasons, but also on the idea, inacceptable for him, that Numa could have learned his commendable qualities from a Greek (Liv. 1.18.2-4; see chap. 4.3.1). 128 Wiater 2011a: 216, cf. 186-7. 129 Wiater 2011a: 212-3. On this topic see also Griffin 2005: 306-20; Citroni 2009: 8-25. 130 Cf. e.g., Crouzet 2000, above. 131 Gabba 1991: 212-3, above. See discussion with references in Wiater 2011a: 206-9. On the cautiousness required in using the terms pro- and anti-Augustan to classify Augustan literature cf., in particular, Kennedy 1992: 26-58. 132 Wiater 2011a: 217-8. 133 Wiater 2011a: 218, cf. 220. 134 Cf., e.g., Schultze 1986; Gabba 1991; Delcourt 2005; Fox 2011.

By no means does the Antiquitates break down any barrier between Romans and Greeks nor does it proclaim an ‘ecumenic’ vision of the world. Quite to the contrary, by demonstrating that Roman power is acceptable only if it is as Greek as possible—otherwise it would be Barbarian—the Antiquitates maintains the antithesis between Greek and Barbarian and confirms the Greeks’ claim to set the standard for the civilized world. 135

While I agree that Dionysius attempts to justify Roman power in Greek terms and by Greek standards, I do not share some of Wiater’s inferences. In a close reading of Dionysius’s text, it seems manifest to me that Dionysius in fact states—repeatedly—the Romans’ pre-eminence over the Greeks. In the Roman Antiquities, far from encouraging his Greek readers to nourish any sense of superiority over their conquerors, Dionysius often criticizes the Greek incapacity to reach political solutions to their problems comparable to those brought about by the Romans in analogous circumstances. This emerges especially in the narrative of Romulus’s constitution (discussed at chap. 4.2.2). There, Dionysius commends the excellent nature of Romulus’s measures, which created unity among the citizens, in emphatic contrast with the Greeks’ failure to maintain civic harmony (the Isocratean ὁμόνοια) and to strengthen their citizen body by conceding citizenship rights to foreigners. His narrative contains multiple examples of how the Romans improved on Greek institutions (cf., e.g., RA 2.9.2, 16.1, 17, 19.1-2, 26.2-3, 28.2). In these cases, Dionysius is evidently inviting his Greek readers to recognize their past mistakes as well as the superior political wisdom of the Romans. Likewise, the Roman system of values is never explicitly said by Dionysius to be a direct consequence of the Greek influence upon the Romans. It is true that the virtues that Dionysius attributes, for instance, to Romulus or Numa in their administration of the city are identifiable with the virtues that Isocrates attributes to the Athenian ancestors and are Greek in nature, but the Romans, after inheriting them, were able to preserve them and use them to prosper, unlike the Greeks. The Greek inspiration behind the initiatives of the Roman statesmen is also frequently underscored by Dionysius, but likely for a similar purpose: to remind his Greek readers that the Romans made better use of them. This emerges in the accounts of the Romulean and the Republican constitutions, in which Romulus and L. Brutus draw extensively on Greek institutions to set the foundations of long and stable governments (cf. chap. 4.2.2 and 5.1.2). Thus, Dionysius’s depiction of Rome’s early history was highly complimentary to the Romans and, at the same time, it was an edifying criticism of those Greeks who still looked upon them with contempt, encouraging them precisely not to consider the Romans barbarian and inferior peoples,

135 Wiater 2011a: 220-1. The whole discussion is in Wiater 2011a: 216-23.

but as Greeks. The Roman Antiquities, then, does not aim to perpetuate the division between Greeks and Romans. On the contrary, as Casper de Jonge concisely puts it:

If Dionysius presents Rome as the new Athens, if he addresses his critical essays to both Roman and Greek intellectuals, if he believes that Rome ‘from the very beginning, immediately after its founding, produced infinite examples of virtue in men whose superiors (…) no city, either Greek or barbarian, has ever produced’ (RA 1.5.3), does all this not suggest integration of Rome and Greece rather than separation?136

2.2.2 Scope of the Thesis

Upon these premises, in the following three chapters I will analyze the presentation, in Dionysius’s Roman Antiquities, of some of the most celebrated characters of Rome’s early past: Aeneas, Romulus, Numa Pompilius, L. Junius Brutus, and M. Furius Camillus. The choice of this selection requires an explanation. I agree with Gabba and Wiater that it would be risky to try to detect allusions to Augustus and his policies in Dionysius’s text in order to determine his view on the princeps, that is—to reiterate the terminology previously used—to establish whether he was pro- or anti-Augustan. However, since I do believe that contemporary ideas inevitably left traces on Dionysius’s writing, I have decided to look for them with a different aim and in portions of the text that are more likely to reflect their influence, namely, in the description of those characters that, in his time, were being closely associated with the figure of Augustus. My choice is not arbitrary, since each one of the chosen characters developed peculiar features during the Augustan age that are reflected in the art and literature of the time (see overview below). In addition, most Roman writers depicted these figures as models of conduct on account of their deeds and morals. If Dionysius was trying to implement an Isocratean type of historiography with a strongly pedagogical as well as political value, such legendary characters undoubtedly offered a fine opportunity for him to show the exemplary nature of the early Romans. To begin with Aeneas (who will be the subject of Chapter Three), he was not only the progenitor of the Roman race, but also Augustus’s personal ancestor, as the gens Julia claimed to be descended from Aeneas’s son, Iulus. At Rome, the Aeneas legend received renewed attention towards the end of the Republic thanks to Julius Caesar’s self-promotional activity. Under Augustus, Aeneas’s figure was charged with political meaning and became the symbol par excellence of Augustus’s pietas: his deeds were glorified in the Virgilian epos, and his image

136 De Jonge 2012.

became increasingly popular in contemporary public art (cf. chap. 3.2.3, 3.2.4). Romulus (whose figure I analyze in Chapter Four) was the legendary founder of Rome who was responsible for its first basic civic institutions and was also regarded as the greatest example of martial prowess, having waged and won several wars. By the time of Augustus, his name had come to signify ‘saviour and father of the country,’ as a number of generals (such as Marius, Sulla, and Caesar) had been hailed as ‘second Romulus’s after saving the country in some spectacular victory (cf. chap. 4.1.1). The association of Augustus with Romulus began during Augustus’s early career and was never entirely abandoned. King Numa (also treated in Chapter Four) was traditionally thought of as the creator of the main Roman religious institutions. Furthermore, his reign was remembered as the most peaceful period of all Roman history. While his figure does not appear to have received much consideration in the middle and late Republic, under Augustus Numa’s image received fresh emphasis, appearing in contemporary literature as well as on coins and—possibly—on the Ara Pacis, and it became an emblem for Augustus’s ‘restoration’ of Roman religion as well as his establishment of a long era of peace (cf. chap. 4.1.2). L. Junius Brutus was celebrated in the literary tradition for the overthrow of Tarquin the Proud’s tyranny and the institution of the Roman Republic. He was also esteemed for his astounding devotion towards the country, which led him to condemn his own sons to death when they were found guilty of treason. While in the late Republic his figure was frequently associated, as a personal ancestor, with Caesar’s murderer, M. Brutus, his later depictions detach him from the tyrannicide and might link him in fact to Augustus (as I argue in Chapter Five, cf. especially chap. 5.1.2 and 5.1.4). Like Romulus, Camillus (examined, again, in Chapter Five) was portrayed as one of the greatest Roman generals and the saviour of the country, because he captured Veii, one of Rome’s staunchest enemies in its early periods, and later repelled the Gauls who had occupied the city. Besides being celebrated as second founder of Rome on account of these deeds, Camillus was considered an example of profound religious devotion, since, in opposition to the proposal to move the Roman capital to Veii, he persuaded the Romans not to abandon the ancestral seats of their gods. The figure of Camillus was exploited in the self-representation of many political personalities, such as Marius, Sulla, Pompey, Cicero, and Caesar. As in the previous cases, even Camillus’s portrait in the literature of the Augustan age seems to reflect current associations of this character with the princeps through their respective acts of ‘refoundation’ and religious devotion (cf. chap. 5.2.1).

As mentioned above, my aim in this study is not to establish whether Dionysius showed his favour towards (or opposition to) Augustus by alluding to the figure of Augustus and his political initiatives in the portrait of these characters. While I am inclined to think that Dionysius had some sympathy with Augustus, I do not believe that there is substantial evidence to affirm this with certainty, or even that it is worth trying to detect this in the text on the basis of such evidence. Instead, my research has a quite different object. I will show that Dionysius treats the material derived from contemporary themes not to express a political preference, but to shape his narrative according to the principles and aims that he illustrates in his preface. These purposes involved, first, Dionysius’s intention to provide a complete account of early Rome in the Greek language— an account that could demonstrate to the Greeks the true origins of the Romans—and, secondly, Dionysius’s desire to supply a repertory of examples, which could be useful for the political and intellectual education of his readers. For all the characters mentioned above, Dionysius emphasizes their possession of the Isocratean civic virtues, and, in addition, in the cases of Romulus, Numa, and Brutus, he remarks on their role as lawgivers and their endeavours in maintaining civil concord. As I argue, Dionysius selected his material in accordance with these aims, and deliberately included current ideas when these supported his overall purposes. The kind of analysis I propose clearly entails a comprehensive approach to Dionysius’s text, with frequent contextualization of his references, in order to make apposite parallels between his account and contemporary or recent issues and events. Next, it requires a comparative reading of the text with other extant sources, in order to determine where Dionysius’s version differs from them and— possibly—why. Also, it involves special attention to both the passages in which Dionysius directs the reader’s preferences to a certain interpretation of an episode and the insertion of speeches, particularly in those instances in which the latter are unparalleled and have thus been created by Dionysius to shape certain ideas of the characters who speak them. This analysis will lead to multiple positive results. First of all, through this study I will fill in a substantial lacuna in the current scholarship about the Roman Antiquities, in that no work has so far set Dionysius’s presentation of the Roman ‘founding fathers’ within the context of his attempt to write an ‘Isocratean’ history.137 Secondly, this study will prove particularly useful for

137 Specific references to existing scholarship will be made case by case in the analysis of the single characters. Romulus is the only character among those mentioned to have received some consistent attention by scholars (cf., e.g., Gabba 1960; Baldson 1972; Poucet 1976; Sordi 1993; Scheithauer 2000; Delcourt 2005: 241-99), whereas only a few studies have been devoted to the other figures (e.g., Vanotti 1995; Briquel 2004; Gowing 2009; Richardson

improving our knowledge of how Dionysius constructed his narrative by including current themes alongside annalistic materials and how he rendered the exemplary nature of his main characters. As my analysis will show, their paradigmatic value emerges through similar features in most of the cases examined, and it thus enables us to discern some precise patterns in the presentation of these characters. In addition, the liberty with which Dionysius sometimes elaborates his material, together with his occasional comments on the Greeks’ lack of awareness of certain historical matters, are useful indications of the extent to which the stories in question had spread outside Italy. Thus, this analysis will also aid our understanding of the Greek perception of Roman traditional stories. Lastly, while the attribution of certain information to specific sources will not be possible in all the cases considered, the identification of contemporary themes in Dionysius’s account will help us enhance our overall comprehension of the contemporary refashioning of the figures of Rome’s early past.

2011). These studies, moreover, while much valuable in many respects, have a narrow focus and do not always allow to draw broad conclusions on Dionysius’s aims and techniques.

CHAPTER 3 Aeneas and the Greco-Trojan Origins of Rome

In this chapter I analyze Dionysius’s account of the Aeneas legend in comparison with other— mostly contemporary—treatments of the same subject. I consider, on the one hand, Aeneas’s function in the project of the Roman Antiquities and, on the other, how Dionysius’s portrait of Aeneas as a Greek settler fits in with current ideas about Rome’s origins and with the veneration of the Trojan hero as an ancestor of the imperial family. Most extant sources give only cursory or fragmentary reports of the Aeneas story, with the notable exceptions of Virgil’s Aeneid (the longest surviving account of it together with the relevant portion of the Roman Antiquities) and Ovid’s Metamorphoses (13.623-737, 14.75-245 and 438-625).1 While Virgil’s epic poem has been long (and rightly) celebrated because of its literary achievements as well as its importance in deepening modern understanding of the Augustan ethos, Dionysius’s account of Aeneas’s travels and deeds has not attracted much scholarly attention. In 1995, the Italian scholar Gabriella Vanotti wrote a commentary on this section of the Roman Antiquities. A number of articles, by both Vanotti and other (mainly French) scholars, have explored various aspects of Dionysius’s text providing valuable insights into it, although they mostly center on narrow topics.2 My intent in this chapter is neither to supply another commentary on Dionysius’s text (thus repeating what Vanotti has already accomplished) nor to provide new interpretations of limited aspects of it. Instead, my purpose is to examine how Dionysius shaped and presented the figure of Aeneas for a mostly Greek readership, and how this portrait served his aim of demonstrating the Romans’ ‘true’ identity (that is, as Greeks). Aeneas was a key figure for Dionysius’s history and overall programme: the progenitor of the Romans, he was a native Trojan and therefore a Greek in Dionysius’s conception. As I examine at section 3.3.3 b, Dionysius gives in fact a Greek genealogy for the Trojans, thereby presenting them as an originally Greek people. While the information he reports about the Trojans’ origin was attested in other sources (and, apparently, not

1 The Aeneas legend is also related in Diod. 7.4; Strab. 5.3.2, C 229, 13.1.53, C 607-8; Liv. 1.1-2; App. Reg. 1 (from Photius); Dio in Zon. 7.1, and Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232; OGR 9.1-14.3. 2 Cf., e.g., Poucet 1989: 63-95, who considers the specific differences between Dionysius’s and Varro’s accounts of Aeneas’s journey; Briquel’s article on the figure of the Trojan hero Antenor (1990); Vanotti’s works on Dionysius’s presentation of the Sybil (1993), and on the foundation of the Sicilian cities of Egesta and Esione (2011); and the studies of Martin (1989) and Brillet-Dubois (2005), which both deal with Aeneas’s genealogy in the RA.

an ad hoc fabrication to support the idea that the Romans had ultimately a Greek ancestry), Dionysius strengthens his point through unique narrative devices. For instance, he unusually depicts the perception of the Trojans by other characters in the story (such as king Latinus) as Greeks, and (in the last part of the account, cf. RA 1.57 ff.) frequently refers to them as actual Greeks or identifies their customs and attributes as Greek ones. In addition, Dionysius’s thorough treatment of the Aeneas story and his contemporaneity with Virgil make his account a valuable testimony for the ongoing Trojan ‘revival’ at Rome and an intriguing comparison for the Virgilian portrait of Aeneas.3

3.1 The Origin of the Latin People

In the Roman Antiquities, Aeneas and the other Trojan survivors from the Trojan War were the last people, in a sequence of five migratory waves from different Greek regions, to arrive in Italy and settle ancient Latium in pre-historic times. In the first part of Book One (RA 1.9-45), Dionysius describes the ethnic formation of the Latins as the result of successive arrival and amalgamation of Greek settlers, with the aim of demonstrating that the Romans’ ancestors were actually Greeks who had left their countries for various reasons and colonized central Italy. As Gabba already noted, the Latins’ ethnogenesis is here illustrated according to the classical principles of Greek colonization, which later applies to Rome’s foundation as well.4 The causes of the Greeks’ migration to Italy are ascribed by Dionysius to lack of productivity in their native lands and resulting overpopulation; as a consequence, bands of people (especially young men) were sent away to seek new, more fertile territories to occupy.5 The most ancient inhabitants of Latium from

3 As Vanotti (1995: 12-13, 81-90) has observed, the organization of the Aeneas story in Dionysius and in the Aeneid offers an analogous structure: both Dionysius and Virgil devote half of their relevant narratives to Aeneas’s escape and journey to Italy (RA 1.46-54, and Aen. 1-6), and the other half to Aeneas’s war and settlement in Latium (RA 1.55-64, and Aen. 7-12), even though Dionysius’s version does not follow the Virgilian order of the places visited by Aeneas and notably omits Aeneas’s stop in Carthage (as does Livy, cf. 1.1.4). Specific differences between Dionysius’s and Virgil’s versions will be outlined in the course of this chapter. 4 Cf. RA 1.11.1-2, 1.12.1; on Rome as ἀποικία or colony cf. 2.2.4, 2.16.2. 5 Cf. RA 1.16.1-4, 1.24.4; Gabba 1991: 98-99, 103-7; cf. Wiater 2011b: 79-80. Gabba emphasizes the similarities of the phenomenon described by Dionysius with both the ancient Italian custom of the ver sacrum and Thucydides’s account of the early Greek migrations (Thuc. 1.2). Like Thucydides, Dionysius appears to envisage migration and the occupation of new lands as factors of growth and power for a nation (Gabba, ibid). Gabba observes that Dionysius had available, as models for his ethnographic research, the works of Timaeus, Ephorus, and Theopompus, in addition to local histories; particularly valuable to him may have been the antiquarian research on the origins of the Roman people conducted a few years earlier by M. Terentius Varro. In De gente populi Romani (surviving in fragments), Varro gave an account of the city’s early history and stressed the ties between Greeks and Romans,

whom the Latins were descended were known in the literary tradition as ‘Aborigines.’ About the origin of this group, Dionysius writes that they were variously believed to be autochthonous (RA 1.10.1) or “some homeless vagabonds who came together from various places” (ἀνεστίους τινὰς καὶ πλάνητας ἐκ πολλῶν συνελθόντας χωρίων, 1.10.2) or Ligurians coming from Gaul (1.10.3; cf. 1.13.4), whereas in Cato’s Origines and C. Sempronius Tuditanus’s work they figured as a Hellenic race (RA 1.11.1, 1.13.2).6 Crediting the latter theory, Dionysius suggests that the Aborigines were descended from an Arcadian people called Oenotrians, who moved to Italy from the Peloponnesus long before the Trojan War (1.11.2-12.3, 1.60.3) and gradually occupied various areas of the peninsula by driving out autochthonous groups, such as the “barbarian Sicels” (βάρβαροι Σικελοί, 1.9.1; cf. 1.16) and the Umbrians. It was precisely by occupying the mountainous territories of the Umbrians in central Italy that some of the Oenotrians were eventually renamed ‘Aborigines’ (RA 1.13.3). The etymology here suggested is a hybrid combination of the Latin and Greek terms ab (“from”) and ὄρος (“mountain,” RA 1.13.3; cf. OGR 4.1)7 and presents the advantage of obscuring the obvious meaning of the term Aborigines, in support of Dionysius’s theory about the Greek origin of these people. With time, the Aborigines welcomed other groups of (Greek) immigrants, and namely, a band of Pelasgians from Thessaly (RA 1.17-20); a small colony of Arcadians from Pallantium led by Evander, who settled the Palatine Hill (1.31-33); a group of Peloponnesians, who arrived from Spain with Heracles and settled the Saturnian Hill (that is, the Capitol, 1.34-35); and, lastly, the Trojans under Aeneas’s guidance (1.45-64). Many, roughly contemporary Roman authors depict the Aborigines not only as autochthonous, but also as an uncouth and lawless people. Sallust, for instance, refers to them as genus hominum agreste, sine legibus, sine imperio, liberum atque solutum (Cat. 6.1). Virgil, for his part, describes Latium’s early inhabitants (though without specifying their name) as a race born of trees, “who had no law or culture” (quis neque mos neque cultus erat, Aen. 8.314-23).8 For

though preserving the Romans’ individuality (Gabba 1991: 99-101; on Dionysius’s dependence on Varro for this account cf. also Poucet 1989: 63-95; Briquel 1993: 17-39; Vanotti 1995: 68-81; also, Gabba 1984a: 855-70; Erskine 2001: 25 with n. 44; on the ritual of the ver sacrum, see Farney 2014: 449 with previous bibliography). 6 Cato was notoriously a “stereotypical standard-bearer for nativism” (Gruen 2011: 244), who moralized against Hellenic influence on contemporary Rome. Yet he embraced Hellenic myths about Rome’s origins and transmitted them in his historical account. Cf. Gruen 1992: 52-83; Henrichs 1995: 244-50. 7 Cf. Cary 1937: 43 n. 1. 8 The autochthony of the Aborigines is stated in Strabo’s Geography (Strab. 5.3.2, C 229) and seems implied in Livy’s account as well (cf. Liv. 1.1.5: Aboriginesque qui tum ea tenebant loca).

Dionysius’s purpose—namely, to demonstrate the Greekness of the Romans—the trait of autochthony could obviously not be ascribed to the Latins’ ancestors without overtly contradicting his claim, since, as Gabba phrases it, “beyond the confines of Greece autochthony could only signify non-Greekness and hence barbarianism.”9 Even the second hypothesis about the Aborigines’ background that they were homeless and vagabonds could not be supported by Dionysius, since it appeared in association with the charges lodged by the ‘anti-Roman’ historians, which Dionysius cited in his preface and intended to disprove, and specifically, that the Romans had a lowly and obscure ancestry (cf. RA 1.4.2, discussed at chap. 2.1.3 a). For the purpose of showing the Greek ancestry of the Romans, the Aborigines could only be a Greek race. In addition, by describing the formation of the Latin ethnos as a coming together of colonizing groups of Greeks, Dionysius presents the early Latins as a relatively advanced civilization from their very beginnings, skipping the initial stage of savagery by which this people was often portrayed by the Roman sources (see references above and at note 8). Furthermore, Dionysius depicts the ethnogenesis of the Latins as a peaceful and voluntary process of assimilation among Greek groups who arrived at separate times. These groups, while expelling the barbarians and seizing their land, willingly agreed to be integrated in previously established Greek settlements without causing any violent cultural transformations through conquests and subjugation. This conception allowed Dionysius to emphasize the advancement and continuity of the early Latins’ growth and their ability to preserve their original Greek elements unaltered.10 In Dionysius’s ethnographic model the notion of autochthony—while not acceptable in the Latins’ case for the reason already explained—is advanced as an explanation for the origin of the Etruscan people (or Τυρρηνοί). In this position, Dionysius was following an existing tradition according to which the Τυρρηνοί owed their name to the practice of building fortified walls (τύρσεις), although he does not cite specific sources for it (RA 1.26.2, cf. 1.30.2; also, 1.89.2). The majority of historians, Dionysius states, contended instead that the Etruscans were descended from Lydian colonists who migrated to Italy in ancient times (1.27). This was the version famously given by Herodotus (Hdt. 1.94, cited at RA 1.27.3-4; cf. Hdt. 1.57.1, cited at RA 1.29.3), but

9 Gabba 1991: 104. On traditional Greek conceptions of autochthony see Roy 2014: 241-55. 10 Cf. Gabba 1991: 106-7. On the Greek origins of Rome in the RA see also Bickerman’s classical study (1952: 65- 81); Musti 1988: 39-51; Levi 1991: 121-9 (though in very general terms); Ando 1999: 11-12; Delcourt 2005: 81- 115. On Dionysius’s treatment of the Aborigines and the other pre-Roman populations see, in particular, Gabba 1991: 113-5; Briquel 1993: 17-39; Pagliara 2000: 143-64; Schultze 2012: 117-9; Lee-Stecum 2014, esp. 456-60.

seemingly unsupported by the account of the local historiographer Xanthus of Lydia, whose authority in this matter Dionysius held as “second to none”: in his history of the Lydians, Xanthus never mentioned a Lydian colony in Italy (RA 1.28.2). The historian Hellanicus, in turn, wrote that the Etruscans came from the Pelasgians (FGrH 4 F 4 = RA 1.28.3),11 a position that Dionysius also rejects, mainly on linguistic grounds: the Etruscans spoke a completely different language from the other Pelasgian settlers (RA 1.29).12 As scholars have observed, Dionysius likely did not fabricate the story of the autochthony of the Etruscans.13 However, in supporting this theory, he was pursuing a specific agenda. In his seminal 1970 article, Domenico Musti emphasizes that in Dionysius the notion of autochthony, coinciding with ‘non-Greekness,’ has a negative connotation: the autochthonous Sicels, for example, are labelled as ‘barbarians.’14 In the Etruscans’ case, this was intended to diminish their prestige and to present the Latins, among the early Italians, as the only heirs to an ancient overseas civilization (namely, the Greeks). The story of the migration of the Lydians to Italy is in fact related by Dionysius as a fable (μυθολογοῦντες, RA 1.27.1). Furthermore, a Pelasgian origin would have linked the Etruscans to the Romans’ ancestors, who, as previously noted, included Pelasgian colonists. Therefore, Dionysius vigorously tries to dissociate the Etruscans and the Latins by denying the possibility of a common origin or a derivation of the latter from the former: “Many historians assumed that Rome itself was a Tyrrhenian city...but I do not believe that both partook of a common lineage.”15 Having illustrated the arrival in Latium of Aborigines, Pelasgians, Arcadians, and Peloponnesians, Dionysius sets out to relate the last and most significant of the ‘Greek’ migrations, that is, the expedition of the Trojan survivors led by Aeneas. The Trojan hero was nothing less than the progenitor of the Alban kings, the royal lineage from which Romulus and Remus were descended, as well as the personal ancestor of the Julii, Augustus’s adoptive family, so the

11 On Hellanicus’s passage cf. Pownall’s commentary to BNJ 4 F4 (2016); the Greeks viewed the Pelasgians as a sort of proto-Hellenic people, who were expelled from Greece by the Hellenes and as a result had to migrate to Italy. 12 As Christopher Mackay has observed, the fact that the Etruscans were known for speaking a completely different language from the Latins and were also autochthonous implies that the Latins were not autochthonous. 13 On this issue cf. Musti 1970, esp. 7-20, 1981: 23-44; Briquel 1983: 65-86; Gabba 1991: 104-5, 111-3; Vanotti 1999: 217-55, who comments on the literary sources about the Greek origin of the Etruscans and the Romans. Cf. also Cornell 1975: 2-3, who discusses how the story of the indigenous founder Tarchon was reconciled with that of the Lydian foundation. On the Etruscans’ origin and ethnicity see, more recently, de Grummond 2014: 405-22 with discussion of the ancient literary sources and previous scholarship. 14 Musti 1970: 11-12; so Gabba 1991: 104. 15 RA 1.29.2: τήν τε Ῥώμην αὐτὴν πολλοὶ τῶν συγγραφέων Τυρρηνίδα πόλιν εἶναι ὑπέλαβον...κοινοῦ δὲ ἄμφω μετειληφέναι γένους οὐ πείθομαι.

importance of the figure of Aeneas in the Roman contemporary imagination can hardly be overestimated. In the following section, I will provide a survey of the development of the Aeneas legend in the Greek and Roman sources, emphasizing how his figure came to be integrated into the myth of Rome’s origin and it was increasingly exploited for political purposes. This will be useful for both understanding the status quaestionis of the Aeneas story at Dionysius’s time—in particular, the revival of his legend as a foundation myth in the new imperial reality—and fully appreciating the complexity of Dionysius’s reconstruction.

3.2 The Aeneas Legend from Homer to Augustus

3.2.1 Aeneas in the Greek Sources

In Greek literature, the earliest extant references to Aeneas’s escape from Troy and his destiny as future ruler of the Trojans appear in the Iliad (20.300-8) and in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (191-201); the forms in which we have them date approximately to the eighth and seventh centuries BC. The references in the Homeric poem allow for a few observations about Aeneas’s character (which I discuss in detail below, at chap. 3.3.1, with specific reference to Dionysius’s text). In the Iliad, Aeneas is generally described as a distinguished warrior (e.g., Il. 5.245-8, 5.297-302; 6.77- 79; 11.57-58; 13.468-9, 13.481-6). His double rescue in battle by Aphrodite and Poseidon (respectively, Il. 5.311-8 and 20.318-25) does not diminish his status nor is it a mark of cowardice, being a common ‘treatment’ of the war survivors in Homer.16 Besides his military virtue, Aeneas is characterized by his wisdom (e.g., Il. 5.180, 13.463, 17.485, 20.83, 20.267), and his εὐσέβεια towards the gods is stressed in Poseidon’s speech (Il. 20.298-9).17 As Nicholas Horsfall has observed, however, Aeneas emerges as a secondary figure in the Iliad and shows himself to be aware of his condition. This is especially evident from the references in the text to Aeneas’s resentment towards King Priam, who took no notice of him (Il. 13.460-1, 20.180-4).18 The myth of Aeneas’s wanderings was likely recounted in a number of early works concerning the Trojan War and the fates of its heroes (the so-called Epic Cycle), even though the

16 Horsfall 1979: 372-3; cf. Galinsky 1969: 11-14. 17 The extent of Aeneas’s εὐσέβεια in the Iliad is a matter of debate among scholars: Galinsky (1969: 11-14) argues that this quality was virtually nonexistent for Aeneas in the Greek tradition; contra Horsfall 1979: 385. 18 Horsfall 1979: 385.

extant references are few.19 He is not mentioned in the second century AD summary of the Little Iliad composed by Proclus, whereas in Arctinus’s Iliou Persis Aeneas is said to have withdrawn to Mount Ida before the sack of Troy. Aeneas’s survival in the Troad is also attested by the fifth- century historian Hellanicus of Lesbos (FGrH 4 F 31 = RA 1.47.5, discussed below, chap. 3.3.1) and by Agathocles of Cyzicus (third century BC), who mentions Aeneas’s grave at Berecynthia (FGrH 472 F 5a = Fest. 328 L).20 A Roman monument of the late first century BC, the Tabula Iliaca Capitolina, is decorated with scenes from the Aeneas legend. The relevant inscription claims that the story represented in the relief was inspired by Stesichorus’s Iliou Persis (mid-sixth century BC; IG 14 284, p. 330, 7). However, several discrepancies between details of the relief and extant fragments of Stesichorus have led scholars to question the actual derivation of these scenes from the Greek poet. Also, the mention of Aeneas’s journey to Ἑσπερία (that is, Italy), which accompanies one of the panels, seems anachronistic for the sixth century. The attribution to Stesichorus is thus commonly regarded as a Roman invention connected with the contemporary Augustan revival of the Trojan legend.21 Aeneas’s escape from Troy is explicitly linked to Rome’s foundation in a passage of the Roman Antiquities derived from the History of the Priestesses at Argos, an early chronicle compiled by Hellanicus of Lesbos. According to Dionysius (RA 1.72.2 = FGrH 4 F 84), the author of this work (not explicitly named here) wrote that from the land of the Molossians Aeneas arrived in Italy with Odysseus (μετ᾽ ᾽Οδυσσέως) and founded a city which he named ‘Rome’ after one of the Trojan women in his following.22 This woman, being weary with their wanderings, had induced

19 On the tradition of the Epic Cycle see Burgess 2001, esp. 7-46. 20 Horsfall 1979: 374-5; Gantz 1993: 713-5. Gantz stresses the fact that technically Aeneas was not among the heroes who ‘returned’ from the Trojan War, since his destiny, as predicted by Poseidon (Il. 20.300-8), was to rule over the descendants of Dardanus. The ancient Greek sources, however, were not unanimous about Aeneas’s destination—as Dionysius himself points out in a passage I will later discuss (RA 1.53.4-5, chap. 3.3.2 below). On Agathocles’s fragment cf. Johannes Engels’s commentary to BNJ 472 F 5a (2008); Engels underscores the difficulties (already noted by Jacoby) of locating Aeneas’s burial at Berecynthia, a toponym which might refer to Berecyntium in Asia Minor or to Aeneas’s burial on the river Numicus (or Numicius, close to Lavinium). 21 On this disputed evidence see Galinsky 1969: 106-12; Horsfall 1979: 375-6; Momigliano 1984a: 444; Bremmer- Horsfall 1987: 14-15; Gruen 1992: 13-14; Erskine 2001: 149. 22 That Odysseus was early connected with the foundation of Latin cities is implied in Hesiod’s Theogony (1011-6), where Odysseus figures as father of Agrios and Latinus through his union with Circe. On the identity of the author of the History of the Priestesses at Argos as Hellanicus see discussion in Horsfall 1979: 377-82; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 15-16; Galinsky 1969: 103-6, 1992: 93-96; Gantz 1993: 716-7; Vanotti 1995: 17-35; Pownall at BNJ 4 F 84 = RA 1.72.1-2 (2016). As Pownall remarks in her recent commentary, a new testimonium (BNJ 4 T 14a) has now proven the identification of Hellanicus as the author of the Priestesses beyond doubt. Gruen casts doubts about the attribution of Dionysius’s report to Hellanicus, arguing that no fifth-century Greek historian seems to have taken notice of Rome yet: “The account, as transmitted, almost certainly represents a patchwork of separate items and independent traditions. (...) A more plausible setting would seem to be the later fourth century when tales of Aeneas

the other Trojan women to set fire to the ships, forcing the expedition to stop.23 Dionysius states that this version was later accepted by other writers as well, including Damastes of Sigeum, a pupil of Hellanicus (late fifth-century BC). Hellanicus thus supplies the earliest certain evidence of the Trojan origin of Rome, followed by the Sicilian historians Timaeus of Tauromenium, Alcimus, and Callias of Syracuse (roughly, mid-fourth to mid-third centuries BC). Timaeus is not explicit on this subject but clearly had in mind a Trojan ancestry for the Romans (FGrH 566 F 36 = Pol. 12.4b.1, and FGrH 566 F 59 = RA 1.67.4).24 Alcimus wrote that Aeneas had a son from Tyrrhena named Romulus, who was father to Rome’s founder Rodus (or Romus, FGrH 560 F 4). Callias does not refer to Aeneas, but he does mention a Trojan woman called Rome, who married Latinus, and their sons Romulus, Romus, and Telegonus built a city they named after their mother (FGrH 564 F 5 = RA 1.72.5).25 A rather controversial piece of evidence comes from Lycophron’s poem Alexandra (early third century BC). Lycophron cites Aeneas as ancestor of Romulus and Remus and credits him with the foundation of Lavinium (Alex. 1226-80). However, the prophecy of Rome’s future greatness is suspicious because of the early date of composition, and scholars are generally inclined to consider these verses detailing it as a later interpolation.26 Overall, the references to Aeneas in Greek texts from the eighth to the third centuries BC are quite numerous, but the fragmentary nature of such evidence does not permit to draw many inferences about Aeneas’s characterization (with the exception of the Homeric lines). The contemporary visual sources are more useful. Several black-figure and red-figure vases from Etruria (mostly from the sixth century BC) are decorated with scenes from the Aeneas legend. Over thirty examples are extant. The most recurrent scene, appearing on twenty-one vases, represents Aeneas’s rescue of his father Anchises. The depiction of Aeneas carrying his father also recurs in terracotta figurines from Veii (probably fourth or third century BC). The theme of Aeneas’s filial devotion (examined at chap. 3.2.3 and 3.3.1) was thus well-known at a relatively

and Latium, of Odysseus’ western ventures, and of arsonist Trojan women were circulating in the school of Aristotle and elsewhere” (1992: 18, cf. 16-18). Erskine is skeptical too (2001: 149). 23 The episode of the Trojan women burning the ships is transferred to Aeneas’s stop in Sicily in other versions of the story (cf., e.g., Verg. Aen. 5.604-63), as also discussed by Dionysius at RA 1.52.4. 24 Cf. Cornell 1975: 23-24; Horsfall 1979: 383; Momigliano 1984a: 446; Erskine 2001: 152. On the above- mentioned fragments of Timaeus and his references to Rome’s Trojan origin see also Craige Champion’s commentary to BNJ 566 F 36 and F 59 (2010), and Barron 2013: 45-49. 25 Cf. Momigliano 1984a: 441; Gruen 1992: 15-16; Vanotti 1995: 39-41; Erskine 2001: 151-2. 26 Cf. Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 20; Gruen 1992: 18-19; Vanotti 1995: 41-51; Erskine: 2001: 153-5.

early stage of the Aeneas legend.27 This is supported by the image impressed on sixth-century BC tetradrachms from the Chalcidic city of Aineias and, in literature, by the Sophoclean description of the hero in his play Laocoon. The image on Aineias’s coins includes a female figure, most certainly Aeneas’s wife. Aeneas’s escape with his family as a whole (that is, his father, wife, and son) was represented on Parthenon’s north metope 28 (see below, chap. 3.3.1 and fig. 6). By contrast, the rescue of the Trojan sacra, which is repeatedly emphasized in Dionysius’s account (see below, chap. 3.3.1), is a rare motif in pre-Roman art. It only appears on an Etruscan scarab dated to the early fifth century BC.28 Mentions in literature are only apparently more numerous. The earliest appears in a text ascribed to Hellanicus’s Troika by Dionysius (RA 1.46.4, 1.47.6 = FGrH 4 F 31). Another one appears in Xenophon’s Cynegeticus (Xen. Cyn. 1.15).29 The above-mentioned fragment of Timaeus (FGrH 566 F 59 = RA 1.67.4) concerns the presence in Lavinium of the Trojan sacred objects, indicating that a tradition about Aeneas’s rescue of them was already circulating at his time (or earlier). However, Horsfall has observed that the motif of carrying sacred objects by colonists does find parallels in Greek literature (cf., e.g., Hdt. 1.164, 166; Paus. 7.2.11) and therefore should not be regarded necessarily as a later Roman conceptualization of Aeneas’s pietas.30

3.2.2 Aeneas in the Roman Sources

In his classic 1952 article, Elias Bickerman analyzes the ways in which Greek scholars attempted to explain the inhabited world by creating links between ‘barbarian’ cities and the Greek mythological tradition. Bickerman defines this method as ‘Hellenocentric’, with the Greeks incorporating the origins of the barbarians into the framework of the activities and travels of Greek heroes. When faced with indigenous traditions, the Greeks reconciled them with their own versions via specious genealogies.31 This model can also be used to explain how the Aeneas legend and the Romulean foundation were combined together. In the earliest Roman literary mentions of

27 This evidence is discussed, in particular, in Galinsky 1969: 60, 122-40, 1992: 96-97; Horsfall 1979: 376, 385-8; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 18-19; Evans: 1992: 35; Gantz 1993: 715-6; Erskine 2001: 93-98 on Aineias’s coinage. 28 See references above, n. 26. 29 The attribution of this text to Xenophon was long doubted (see, e.g., Horsfall 1979: 384), but its authenticity appears now certain (cf. Grey 1985: 156-72; L’Allier 2012: 477-97; Dillery 2017, esp. 213-6). 30 Horsfall 1979: 383-9 against Galinsky 1969, esp. 3-61, which deal specifically with Aeneas’s pietas. I discuss Horsfall’s argument in chap. 3.3.1. 31 Bickerman 1952: 65-81; Cornell 1975: 1-32. Recently this notion has been elaborated by Gruen 2011, esp. 223-7.

Aeneas—specifically, Naevius’s third-century epic, the Bellum Punicum, and Ennius’s Annales— Aeneas appears as directly related to Romulus, being indicated as his grandfather (cf. Serv. Aen. 1.273).32 This connection agrees with the previously considered fragments of Greek writers, who thought of Aeneas, if not directly as Rome’s founder, then at least as the founder’s father or grandfather.33 In a way that is not entirely clear, at some point towards the late third century BC the Romans fixed the date of their city’s foundation to the mid-eighth century. Such a date was incompatible with the Trojan War and Aeneas’s supposed arrival in Latium, and the chronological gap thus created was eventually filled by the invention of a genealogical line from Aeneas to Romulus and Remus (the Alban kings’ list).34 Fragments of early Roman historians—with whom Dionysius claims to be familiar (cf. RA 1.7.3)—show the first attempts at modifying the older chronology of Rome’s foundation. For instance, in Fabius Pictor (second half of the third century BC) we find the report that Aeneas witnessed a prodigy foretelling to him that a new city (Alba) was to be founded in thirty years (Diod. 7.5 = FGrH 809 F 2; cf. below, chap. 3.3.3 a). A similar story is given by Cato the Elder, who was active about fifty years later (OGR 12.5).35 After the third century BC (and until the early Augustan age), the literary elaboration of the figure of Aeneas is quite difficult to reconstruct, since few sources are extant. The late compilation known as Origo gentis romanae (OGR, fourth century AD) cites many (mostly Roman) writers from the late second and early first centuries BC who included Aeneas’s deeds in their accounts. For Aeneas’s escape from Troy, the anonymous compiler drew on the work about the Marsic war composed by Alexander of Ephesus (first half of the first century BC). In this, Aeneas is described as fleeing with his father and his household gods on his shoulder and leading his son by the hand. In recognition of Aeneas’s pietas, the enemy let him depart unscathed (OGR 9.1, cf. 9.3-4). A certain Lutatius (possibly Q. Catulus, cos. 102, or his freedman Daphnis) seems

32 Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 22; Gantz 1993: 717. 33 A tradition ascribed to Hellanicus made Aeneas the founder of the city (reported in RA 1.72.2; see also introduction to chap. 4.2). 34 On this issue, see in particular Cornell 1975: 1-32. 35 Cf. Plut. Rom. 3.1 and 8.9, according to which Fabius Pictor (= frag. 4 P) derived his account from the historian Diocles of Peparethos (BNJ 820 T 2a, 2b). Other fragments include M. Porcius Cato (Serv. Aen. 1.5, 11.316, 1.267, 6.760, etc. = frag. 4, 8, 9, 11 P) and L. Cassius Hemina (Schol. Veron. ad Aen. 2.717 = frag. 3 P; Solin. 2.14 = frag. 7 P). On the Trojan legend in early Roman historians cf. Frier 1979: 50-53; Vanotti 1995: 57-68; Gruen 1992: 31- 37, 2011: 243-9. On how the Trojan and Romulean legends were combined together cf. Ogilvie 1965: 32-34; Galinsky 1969: 141-90, 1992: 93-108; Cornell 1975: 1-32, 1986: 67-86; Momigliano 1984a: 437-62, 1989: 56-61; Erskine 2001: 143-8; Casali 2010: 46-49. The only Latin source in which Aeneas is indicated as Rome’s founder is Sall. Cat. 6.1 (on which see Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 24; Cornell 1975: 13; Galinsky 1992: 93; Erskine 2001: 35- 36). Fabius Pictor’s fragment (Diod. 7.5 = FGrH 809 F 2) is commented on by Fred Jenkins BNJ 809 F 2 (2014).

to have written that Aeneas betrayed his country to the Achaeans (OGR 9.2, see below, chap. 3.3.1; Lutatius is cited also at OGR 11.3). For the peregrinations of Aeneas and his arrival in Latium, reported at OGR 10-12, the author quotes Vulcatius and Acilius Piso (10.2), Caesar and Sempronius (10.4, 11.3; likely, L. Julius Caesar, cos. 64 BC, and Sempronius Tuditanus, cos. 129 BC), Domitius (possibly Domitius Ahenobarbus, cos. 96, or Domitius Calvinus, cited by Pliny among the sources of his Natural History Book 11), and M. Octavius (OGR 12.2, of uncertain identity). Another Piso (conceivably Piso Frugi, cos. 133) is named at OGR 13.8 as a source for the war between Trojans, Latins, and Rutulians. We learn from a later portion of the text (namely, the account of Ascanius’ deeds after his father’s death) that A. Postumius Albinus (cos. 151 BC) composed a work on Aeneas’s arrival in Italy (OGR 15.4; cf. Serv. Aen. 9.707).36 While these accounts survive merely as fragments and indirect quotes, the considerable number of sources cited in the Origo gentis romanae is suggestive of the significance that the Aeneas legend held in the stories about Rome’s origins as well as of the presence, well into the first century BC, of several variants for it. Around Caesar’s time, the story of Aeneas was elaborated by M. Terentius Varro in the second book of his Antiquitates rerum humanarum. Two fragments preserved through commentaries on Virgil’s Aeneid (respectively, Schol. Verg. Veron. Aen. 2.717 and Serv. Aen. 2.636) relate the episode of Aeneas’s flight from Troy, laying great emphasis on Aeneas’s pietas (as in the above-mentioned account of Alexander of Ephesus, OGR 9.1). Servius states that according to Varro (sed Varro rerum humanarum ait, etc.) the Greeks allowed Aeneas to depart and to carry with him something he held dear (quod carum putaret). As Aeneas chose his father, the Greeks in admiration (propter admirationem) allowed him to carry away whatever else he wanted, and Aeneas picked the Penates (Serv. Aen. 2.636). The report of the anonymous Veronese commentator substantially agrees with Servius and opens with a comparable quote (Varro secundo humanarum refert, etc.). It adds the detail that Aeneas occupied the arx before retreating (which also appears in the version of Hellanicus reported by Dionysius’s account; see below, chap. 3.3.1).37 Numerous other fragments in Servius refer to Varro’s account of Aeneas’s peregrinations,

36 On the identification of these authors see Vanotti 1995: 62 with n. 123; Erskine 2001: 28-29; cf. Cornell 2013: 271-3 (Q. Lutatius Catulus), 341-3 (Lutatius, possibly Daphnis), 224-6 (C. Acilius), 641 (L. Julius Caesar), 240-2 (C. Sempronius Tuditanus), 619-20 (Domitius), 623 (M. Octavius), 230-9 (L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi), 185-90 (A. Postumius Albinus). 37 Cf. Baschiera 1999: 106-7.

mentioning the places where Aeneas stopped (e.g., Serv. Aen. 2.166, 3.256, 3.279, 3.349, 3.407, 5.704). Servius states that Varro narrated the love affair of Aeneas and Anna (the sister of the Carthaginian queen Dido; Serv. Aen. 4.682, 5.4), thus possibly implying that Varro included Carthage among Aeneas’s stops.38 Aeneas’s sojourn in northern Africa and his love affair with Anna or Dido was probably inserted in the legend by Naevius as an aition for the Punic War.39 However, there was an obvious chronological problem in associating Aeneas’s travels, which took place right after Troy’s fall, with the foundation of Carthage, set by Timaeus in 814 BC (a date that was substantially agreed upon by the ancient authorities; cf. RA 1.74.1). Dionysius tells us that he composed a work on chronology, in which he synchronized the Roman and the Greek chronological systems and gave precise reasons for his computations (RA 1.74.2-4; see discussion at chap. 4.2, introduction). Such a preoccupation for exact dating could have prevented Dionysius from including the episode of Dido in his account, as Vanotti has compellingly argued. Moreover, the episode was apparently absent not only from the Greek sources, but also from the early Roman historians, whom Dionysius consulted extensively, and—among the contemporaries—from Livy’s historical work. The recognition of the relatively late addition of this episode to the saga could have been a further deterrent for its inclusion in the Roman Antiquities.40 I conclude this overview with a note on Virgil’s conception of Aeneas in his Aeneid, which I will discuss again in the following chapters. Written in twelve books between 29 and 19 BC, the Aeneid stands out as one of the major literary achievements not only of its time, but of world literature in general.41 The epic—quoting Galinsky’s definition—is “a spiritual and poetic reflection of the Roman experience.”42 As is well-known, it recounts the vicissitudes of Aeneas, his journey from Ilium to the mouth of the Tiber, and his war in Latium to claim his promised land. Just like Odysseus in the Homeric epic, the Virgilian Aeneas is harassed by an angered divinity (in this case, Juno), who causes him to endure several sufferings and misfortunes. Moreover, his fate—the foundation of the Roman race—continually imposes difficult decisions on him, which entail the sacrifice of any personal interest in order to fulfill his and his progeny’s destiny. The poem concludes with the merging of the Trojans and the Latins into one people, with the former

38 See discussion in Poucet 1989: 85-88; cf. Mora 1995: 146; Vanotti 1995: 72-73. 39 Cf. Vanotti 1995: 72. On the mention of Dido in Naevius’s epic cf. Serv. Aen. 4.9. 40 Vanotti 1995: 74-75. Further references to Varro are scattered in the analysis of Dionysius’s text, cf. section 3.3. 41 As also defined by Galinsky 2005: 340. 42 Galinsky 1996: 246.

giving up their name and customs in favour of the latter’s. It centers on the notions of toil as a precondition for success and of social responsibility (pietas) as a hallmark of the Roman identity. With his moral and intellectual qualities, Virgil’s Aeneas embodies the ideal Roman leader and prefigures the advent of Augustus, whose rule is anticipated in the poem as an age of utmost glory for the Roman world.43 The association between Aeneas and Augustus became a crucial trait of Augustus’s self-presentation throughout his career (see below, chap. 3.2.4). In the two following sections, I discuss the political meaning of the of figure Aeneas for the Romans in general as his descendants and for individual leaders—like Caesar and Augustus—in particular.44

3.2.3 The Political Elaboration of the Aeneas Legend from the Third Century BC to Caesar

How the legend of Aeneas and his role as ancestor of the Romans were adopted by them is uncertain, though there are a few plausible hypotheses. As previously discussed (chap. 3.2.1), the archaeological remains show that the myth of Aeneas was well-known in Etruria since at least the sixth century BC, but there is no evidence that he was venerated as founder in any Etruscan city.45 While a few scholars have argued for Rome’s contacts with Etruscan centers (such as Veii or Vulci) as a probable conduit for the reception of the Aeneas legend,46 it is more likely that the story came to Rome from the Latin towns of Lavinium and Alba Longa. Aeneas’s connection with Lavinium was long standing and concerned the city’s foundation, as the tradition about the Trojan sacra preserved there seems to indicate (cf. Timaeus FGrH 566 F 59 = RA 1.67.4, above). In historical times, the Roman cult of the Trojan Penates was still celebrated in Lavinium. Varro refers to Lavinium in these terms: “The first town of Roman lineage founded in Latium was Lavinium; for our Penates are there” (oppidum quod primum conditum in Latio stirpis Romanae,

43 On the notion of ‘golden age’ in Virgil’s poetry and Augustan culture in general see Zanker 1988: 167-92; Galinsky 1996: 90-121; Wallace-Hadrill 2004: 159-76. For a broad overview of the main motifs of the Aeneid cf. Galinsky 1996: 246-53, 2005: 344-51. On Virgil’s sources and his relation to previous traditions see Horsfall 1991: 141-50; Casali 2010: 49-50. 44 I have deliberately omitted to mention, in this context, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, which was published in the late Augustan age (c. 8 AD). It is true that Ovid’s elaboration of the Aeneas legend attests to the existence of other traditions on it if compared with the Virgilian epic and seems to draw, in particular, on Varro; but its multifarious engagement and deep intertextual relation with the Aeneid makes it a too complex topic to be treated here. On the relations between Virgil and Ovid cf., e.g., Casali 1995: 59-76; Thomas 2009: 294-307. 45 Gruen 1992: 21-22. 46 Alföldi 1965: 278-87; Galinsky 1969: 103-40; contra Cornell 1975: 11-12. See further references in Gruen, ibid.

Lavinium; nam ibi dii Penates nostri, Varr. LL 5.144).47 Alba, in turn, was regarded as the mother city of Rome. Its ancient prestige is well emphasized by Livy’s statement, “Since all the Latins originated from Alba” (cum omnes Latini ab Alba oriundi sunt, 1.52.2). The city hosted the annual celebration of one of the oldest Latin festivals, the feriae Latinae, which was held on the Alban Mount. Traditionally founded by Aeneas’s son Ascanius, Alba was the birthplace (either real or alleged) of many illustrious Roman families, who traced their origins back to the Trojan settlers.48 On this evidence, Tim Cornell concludes that “the idea of Rome’s Trojan descent arose from the equation of Aeneas with the ancestor of the Latins, and not from a belief that he had founded Rome.”49 The Alban provenance of the ‘Trojan’ families supports this idea, indicating that the Romans viewed the activities of Aeneas as having taken place long before Rome’s foundation.50 It is also uncertain when the Romans started to think of themselves as descendants of the Trojans. As considered above (chap. 3.2.2), the first Roman literary evidence mentioning Aeneas dates to the mid-third century BC, but the idea of a Trojan ancestry might predate the written records and be ascribed, again, to earlier contacts with Alba and Lavinium. Several later sources attest to the use, from the late third century BC, of the Trojan legend in diplomatic situations to justify Roman interferences and reciprocal favours with Greek communities. For example, Pausanias relates that when Pyrrhus agreed to help the Tarentines against the Romans, he thought of the fall of Troy (1184/3 BC)51 as a sign of his future victory over the Romans, since he was allegedly descended from Achilles and the Romans from the Trojans.52 Another instance occurred, according to Cassius Dio, during the First Punic War, when the Sicilian town of Segesta joined the Roman alliance against the Carthaginians on the grounds of their common descent from Aeneas

47 On the Trojan foundation of Lavinium cf. Liv. 1.1.10; Plut. Cor. 29.2; Just. Epit. 43.1.12; OGR 12.4. Cf. Strab. 5.3.2, C 229, where the founder of Lavinium is said to be Latinus. On the presence of the Trojan Penates in Lavinium cf. Strab. 6.1.14, C 264, and RA 1.67.4 (quoting Timaeus FGrH 566 F 59, above). After the foedus between Rome and Lavinium in 338 BC (i.e., the dissolution of the Latin League, on which cf. Liv. 8.11.15; Cornell 1989: 264-74), the cult of the Penates continued to be celebrated in Lavinium, although under Roman supervision. On this cult cf. Serv. Aen. 2.296, 3.12, 8. 664; Macr. Sat. 3.4.6-13. Cf. Alföldi 1965: 258-65 (for the cult in Lavinium), and 268-71 (for the cult of the Penates in Rome); Beard, North, and Price 1998: 323-4. 48 Varro’s work on Trojan genealogies amounted to four volumes, and Dionysius—probably drawing on Varro himself—affirms that in his time there were about fifty families of Trojan origins in Rome (RA 1.85.3). Some of these are listed at RA 3.29.7, and Liv. 1.30.2. Cf. Cornell 1975: 15-16; Erskine 2001: 21-22, 35; on the legendary genealogy of Latin families, cf. also Farney 2007: 53- 65, 2014: 437-54; Lee-Stecum 2014: 455-69. On Alba’s prominence in Latium, cf. Alföldi 1965: 243-5; Galinsky 1969: 144-8. 49 Cornell 1975: 15; cf. Alföldi 1965: 29-34, 236-65; Gruen 1992: 24-26. 50 Cornell 1975: 15. 51 According to Eratosthenes’s dating (FGrH 241 F 1a). 52 Paus. 1.12.1; though, on the reliability of this anecdote see Erskine’s objections (2001: 157-61).

(Dio in Zon. 8.9; cf. Cic. Verr. 2.4.72). In c. 239/8 BC the Acarnanians requested the Romans’ assistance against the Aetolians, adducing as motive that at the time of the Trojan War they had not fought with the other Greeks against the Trojans, the ancestors of the Romans (Just. 28.1.5-6, cf. 31.8.1-4).53 Livy relates that when the consul L. Cornelius Scipio visited Ilium (190 BC), the Ilians did their best to show how proud they felt in having the Romans as descendants (Liv. 37.37.3).54 Next, Suetonius in his Life of Claudius relates that when the emperor granted the people of Ilium exemption from tribute, he cited as precedent an old letter from the Senate to King Seleucus II (265-225 BC), in which the Senate promised alliance only if Seleucus kept Ilium free from taxes (Suet. Claud. 25.3). Lastly, T. Quinctius Flamininus (the victor at Cynoscephalae in 197 BC) is said to have set up an inscription in Delphi in which he called himself “descendant of Aeneas,” and a dedication to Apollo in which he identified the Romans as “children of Aeneas” (Plut. Flam. 12.6-7)—and the examples could continue.55 These instances suggest that, regardless of a possible earlier adoption of the Trojan legend, the Romans started to advertise their Trojan ancestry as a result of their growing contacts with the Greek world, with the conceivable purpose of facilitating their communications with the Greek communities by showing that, through Aeneas, they partook of a shared cultural heritage.56 Towards the end of the second century BC, the figure of Aeneas, previously considered as the Romans’ common ancestor, became increasingly associated with the affairs of a single Roman family—the Julii, who were purportedly descended from Aeneas’s son Iulus—and eventually assumed a marked political meaning in the self-fashioning of Augustus’s image (below, chap. 3.2.4).57 Between the late second and early first centuries BC members of the Julian family had

53 On Trogus’s text cf. Yarrow 2006: 175-8. Cf. also Strab. 10.2.25, C 462; according to Strabo, the Acarnanians used this story to deceive (σοφίσασθαι) the Romans and obtain autonomy from them. 54 Cf also Liv. 29.12.14, 38.39.10 on the grant of privileges to the cities of Ilium and Dardanus. 55 These and further cases are commented on in Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 21-22; Gruen 1990: 11-15, 1992: 26-27; Evans 1992: 36-39; Vanotti 1995: 51-54; Erskine 2001: 38-42; see also Momigliano 1984a, esp. 449-53. 56 Cf., in particular, Gruen 1992: 30-31, 2011: 223-7, 243-9; Cornell 1975: 2-3; Ando 1999: 12; Erskine 2001: 146- 8. Gruen convincingly argues that the Romans’ preference for a Trojan ancestor over a Greek one (such as Odysseus) had little to do with the personal qualities of the hero, but instead bore subtler implications, since it enabled the Romans to associate themselves with “a rich fabric of Hellenic traditions,” while maintaining, at the same time, their distinctiveness from that world: “the Roman upper classes welcomed incorporation into the cultural legacy of Hellas, but preferred to carve out their own niche within it” (1992: 31). 57 Cf. Erskine 2001, esp. 15-43; Erskine reviews the extant evidence on the Trojan legend and argues that its diffusion, both inside and outside Rome, may have been limited before Augustus. Erskine bases his argument mostly on the scarcity of relevant mentions to Aeneas in surviving Republican literature (such as Cicero). On Iulus’s posterity cf. Strabo 13.1.29, C 595; RA 1.70.4; Dio 43.43.2. On the cult of Iulus-Vediovis at Bovillae cf. Alföldi 1965: 241-2; Weinstock 1971: 8-12; Palmer 1974: 137-9; Beard, North, and Price 1998: 89; Farney 2007: 56-58.

advanced claims to divine ancestry through increasing references to the goddess Venus on coins and dedications.58 Then Julius Caesar, besides his relation to Venus, began to emphasize his ties with Venus’s son Aeneas, in this way transforming a common forefather of the Roman people into a personal ancestor.59 From the very beginning of his public career, Caesar frequently displayed his connection with Venus and stressed his divine lineage in various ways, appealing to the goddess as both his ancestress—as in the funerary oration he delivered for his aunt Julia—and his own tutelary deity. Julia’s funeral occurred in c. 69 BC, when Caesar was quaestor. In his funerary speech for her, as reported by Suetonius, Caesar recalls his family descent from kings and gods:

The maternal line of my paternal aunt originated from kings, her paternal one is related to the immortal gods. For the Marcii Reges, to whom her mother belonged, come from Ancus Marcius; the Julii, the gens to which our family belongs, come from Venus. Thus, in her stock there is both the sanctity of kings, who have most power among men, and the ceremonies of the gods, in whose power the kings themselves are.60

The extent of Julius Caesar’s promotion of his privileged relationship with Venus is attested by other sources as well. Velleius Paterculus, writing under Tiberius, states that Caesar’s descent from the goddess was acknowledged by all the ancient authorities: “a fact that was well-known among all the investigators of antiquity” (quod inter omnis antiquitatis studiosos constabat, Vell. 2.41.1). Dio relates that Caesar was intensely devoted to Venus and was even anxious to persuade other people that he had received as a gift from the goddess “a certain bloom of youth” (ἄνθος τι ὥρας), and that he used her image as a seal and her name as a signal in moments of danger (Dio 43.43.3).61 After Pharsalus, Caesar granted special honours to the town of Ilium,62 and Aeneas’s image for the first time appeared on Roman coins alongside his mother Venus: a denarius of 48 BC (RRC 458/1; fig. 1) portrays the nude figure of Aeneas carrying his father on his left shoulder and the Palladium in his right hand. The Palladium was the statue of Athena which, according to the literary tradition, Aeneas carried to Italy to be preserved thereafter among the sacred tokens of the

58 See, e.g., RRC 258/1 and 320/1, respectively, denarii of Sex. Julius Caesar (c. 130-25 BC) and L. Julius Caesar (c. 105-3 BC); cf. Weinstock 1971: 17; Evans 1992: 39-42; Erskine 2001: 17-23. On Venus’s association with leading Romans during the first half of the first century BC, see Beard, North, and Price 1998: 144-5. 59 Cf. Evans 1992: 41; Erskine 2001: 15. 60 Suet. Caes. 6.1: Amitae meae Iuliae maternum genus ab regibus ortum, paternum cum diis inmortalibus coniunctum est. Nam ab Anco Marcio sunt Marcii Reges, quo nomine fuit mater; a Venere Iulii, cuius gentis familia est nostra. Est ergo in genere et sanctitas regum, qui plurimum inter homines pollent, et caerimonia deorum, quorum ipsi in potestate sunt reges. Cf. Plut. Caes. 5.2-3; Caesar’s laudatio is analyzed in Flower 1996: 143-5. 61 Cf. Evans 1992: 39-42; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 23-24; on the “bloom of youth”, cf. Weinstock 1971: 23-26. 62 Such as allotting additional territory to the Ilians and exempting them from taxation; cf. Strab. 13.1.29, C 594-5. Furthermore, according to the biographies of Nicolaus of Damascus and Suetonius, rumors spread that Caesar intended to move the capital of the empire either to Alexandria or Ilium on account of his ancient connection with the Trojan race (Nic. Dam. Caes. 20.68; Suet. Caes. 79.3).

Roman power, or pignora imperii. Among the pignora imperii there also appeared the Penates of Troy (brought by Aeneas as well) and the fire of Vesta.63 As Jane Evans has suggested, the iconography chosen by Caesar for this coin may have been borrowed a few years later by Augustus, who used Aeneas’s image in his triumviral coinage as a symbol of his own filial pietas.64 Lastly, in 46 BC Caesar dedicated in his magnificent new forum a temple to Venus Genetrix which he had vowed at the battle of Pharsalus,65 and celebrated this event by staging the so-called Trojan games (lusus Troiae). These consisted of equestrian exercises performed by youth of aristocratic families and were believed to have been first established by Aeneas in honour of his deceased father, as later described by Virgil (Aen. 5.545-603). Augustus held these games on several occasions during his rule (cf., e.g., Dio 43.23.6, 49.43.3, 51.22.4, 54.26.1, 55.10.6), possibly as a reminder of his divine ancestry, of the Trojan legacy of Rome, and—again—of his filial pietas.66 Augustus’s subsequent claim to the exclusive association with the figure of Aeneas (on which see next section) was thus preceded by the comparable activity of his adoptive father, who was the first to have sensed its powerful political overtones.

3.2.4 Aeneas in the Augustan Age

In order to understand how Augustus exploited his personal relation to Aeneas, it is worthwhile to consider some details about his family background. Augustus was born into a rather undistinguished gens of equestrian rank, the Octavii, who could not claim famous ancestors or parade masks at funerals. According to Suetonius, Augustus’s family was actually old and

63 Cf. Beard, North, and Price 1998: 189-90. The episode of Aeneas carrying the Palladium to Italy is related at RA 1.69.2-4, 2.66.5; cf. Ov. Fast. 6.431-6; Sil. 9.530-1; Plut. Cam. 20.6; Paus. 1.28.9; Serv. Aen. 2.166, 3.407, 5.81, 7.188. Evans has argued that the appearance of the Palladium on this coin might be a reference to Caesar’s role as pontifex maximus (who was in fact the guardian of the pignora imperii), whereas Aeneas’s iconography as a nude and vigorous figure may have been inspired by Greek models (such as the bronze coins from Segesta minted after 264 BC) and was conceivably meant to underscore Caesar’s martial prowess (Evans 1992: 41 with n. 24; cf. Galinsky 1969: 5; Zarrow 2003: 132-3). Cf. also Spawforth 2012: 202-4 on the significance of the Palladium for Augustus in his capacity as pontifex maximus. 64 Evans 1992: 41. On Caesar’s pietas cf. Weinstock 1971: 248-59. Weinstock proposes to interpret the female head on this coin as a personification of Pietas on the basis of its close similarity with the Sicilian coin minted by M. Herennius around 108/7 BC. The latter represents on the reverse one of the Catanaean brothers carrying his father on his left shoulder as he rescues him from the eruption of Mount Etna, and on the obverse the head of Pietas (RRC 308/1; fig. 2; cf. Galinsky 1969: 55-56; Crawford 1974: 317-8. On the Catanaean brothers cf. Val. Max. 5.4.ext.4; Sen. Ben. 3.37). 65 On Caesar vowing the temple of Venus see App. BC 2.68, 2.102 (cf. 3.28); on its dedication see Dio 43.22.2-23.6; on the Julian cult of Venus cf. Weinstock 1971: 16-18, 80-91. 66 Cf. Weinstock 1971: 88-89; Evans 1992: 43 n. 31; Erskine 2001: 19-20; Scheid 2003: 126-7.

renowned in Velitrae, its hometown, and had been temporarily admitted to the senate and promoted to patrician rank in the late phases of the monarchy.67 However, the Octavii who held curule offices were very few, and Augustus himself appears to have written in his lost autobiography that his father was the first senator in his family (Suet. Aug. 1-4).68 Suetonius adds that Antony used to mock Augustus on the grounds that Augustus’s great-grandfather was libertinus and restio (a “rope-maker”), and his grandfather a “money-changer” (argentarius, ibid 2.3). Well before Suetonius was writing, Cicero had attacked Antony for spreading disparaging comments about Augustus’s lack of nobilitas, which Cicero disputed by remarking on Augustus’s adoption by Caesar (ignobilitatem obicit C. Caesaris filio, Cic. Phil. 3.15) and at the same time by hinting at the moral qualities of Augustus’s ancestors.69 While Cicero may have defended Octavian’s status as a new man against Antony’s criticism, Augustus’s attitude towards his background seems ambivalent. On the one hand, Augustus’s erection of statues in his new forum representing illustrious Romans of the past and the exhibition of their masks during family funerals (alongside those of his own ancestors) signal his intention to associate himself with Rome’s glorious past.70 Through such a display, Augustus implicitly juxtaposed the maiores’ achievements with his own, showing that he had emulated and even surpassed their models. In this sense, it was not only by family ancestry, but also by following the example of the maiores that Augustus demonstrated his right to rule. This line of reasoning highlights Augustus’s initial status as a new man.71 On the other hand, Augustus proved capable

67 I owe to Christopher Mackay the observation that this story was likely a fabrication devised to ennoble the origins of the first emperor. 68 Cf. Galinsky 1996: 377-8. 69 For instance, Cicero mentions that Octavian’s mother came from Aricia, a town which had produced many respectable knights (hinc equites Romani lautissimi et plurimi, Phil. 3.16). Commenting on this passage, Emma Dench observes that in Cicero’s view “the ‘nobody’ status that is the subject of Antony’s taunt can be turned into a virtue: that would make Octavian rather like Cicero himself, as well as his projected, ideal audience of worthy new men” (Dench 2005: 115). On the notion of inherited nobility versus nobility acquired through merits in the context of the rise of new men in the early first century BC, cf. Wiseman 1971, esp. 107-16. 70 According to the accounts of the literary sources, Augustus transformed his family funerals into solemn spectacles in which he staged long processions of masks. The first funeral celebrated along these lines was possibly that of Marcellus in 23 BC (cf. Dio 53.30.5), an echo of which could be found in Virgil’s parade of heroes in Aen. 6.756- 892 (Flower 1996: 109-14). Next, according to Dio 54.28.5, Agrippa’s funeral (12 BC) was comparable to Augustus’s own, which Dio describes at 56.34.2-3 relating that it featured a parade of masks including Romulus and other prominent Romans. The funeral of Octavia could have been celebrated in like manner as well (cf. Dio 54.35.4; Flower ibid, 241-2). Augustus’s step-son Drusus, who had enjoyed wide popularity during his short lifespan, was given a most splendid funeral by the princeps (9 BC), as several sources relate (cf., e.g., Liv. Per. 142; Sen. ad Marc. 3.1; Tac. Ann. 3.5; Suet. Claud. 1.5; Dio 55.2; cf. Flower ibid, 242-3). 71 Cf., for instance, the speech that Sallust has Marius pronounce in Jug. 85 as newly elected consul (107 BC). In this speech, Marius emphasizes the distinction between having famous ancestors and behaving in accordance with

of exploiting his newly acquired family status, which granted him not only the right to the Julian imagines and the prestige attached with it, but also a quasi-divine and royal pedigree in its connection with the deified Julius, Venus, the Alban kings’ dynasty, as well as three of the Roman kings (namely, Romulus, Numa, and Ancus Marcius).72 Augustus’s display of the images of all of his ancestors—real and legendary alike—both in his forum and in funerary processions was a means of validating his role as the foremost man of the state (princeps) by stressing his extraordinary heritage, which included his legitimate descent from the Roman forebears (as well as the Julii’s legendary ancestors) Aeneas and Romulus. Augustus’s association with their figures was indeed one of the mainstays of his self-fashioning throughout his career, from his early beginnings to possibly his funeral.73 Aeneas’s figure first appears on a coin of Augustus during the triumviral period (43 BC). This coin was part of an emission, issued by L. Livineius Regulus, comprising three series of aurei, each one portraying one of the triumvirs with his respective mythical forebear: Lepidus’s head was paired with the vestal Aemilia (RRC 494/1), Antony’s head with Hercules (RRC 494/2), and Caesar’s son with Aeneas carrying Anchises—as on Caesar’s denarius, although this new version of Aeneas did not bear the Palladium (RRC 494/3; fig. 3).74 Conceivably, Augustus chose this image for his coin as a reference not only to his newly-acquired Trojan ancestry, but also to his own filial pietas, suggesting, through the figure of Aeneas as a dutiful and caring son, his intention to avenge his father justly and to honour his memory.75 A few decades later, in his Fasti Ovid significantly has Aeneas remark twice, while establishing the practice of offering gifts and the ancestral custom, concluding that an illustrious ancestry is useless if the mos maiorum is not actually followed, since virtue is not hereditary; on his part, he says to have conducted himself as the maiores taught (Jug. 85.36-38). 72 Cf. chap. 1.3 with n. 89 on Augustus’s early exploitation of his status as ‘son of the divus;’ on the Julii’s relation to the Roman kings cf. Caesar’s oration for his aunt Julia (above, chap. 3.2.3). 73 Cf. Flower 1996: 243-6. The association of Romulus with Caesar and Augustus is discussed at chap. 4.1.1. 74 Cf. Crawford 1974: 502; Evans 1992: 41-42. The identification of this figure with Aeneas has been recently contested. E. M. Zarrow (2003: 123-35) argues that the figure is one of the Catanaean brothers (on which see note 64 above). Zarrow’s argument is based on both stylistic similarities between Augustus’s and Herennius’s coins, and the idea that Aeneas, before the canonization of his figure in Virgil’s Aeneid, was not an obvious example of filial devotion at Rome. The identification with one of the Catanaean brothers would be supported by the relation between this type and a denarius later minted by Sex. Pompeius (c. 40 BC; RRC 511/3a-c; Crawford 1974: 520). 75 Cf. Weinstock 1971: 254-5. Appian attributes a fictitious speech to Augustus soon after Caesar’s death, in which Augustus bitterly criticizes Antony for not avenging Caesar when he had the possibility to do so and argues that Caesar would have adopted Antony, had Antony given up Hercules for Aeneas: “These things have been said to one who would have been soon adopted by him, had he known that you would accept to become a descendant of Aeneas instead of Heracles; for he was in doubt about this, when he was giving much thought to his succession” ([τάδε εἴρηται ἐς] τάχα ἂν αὐτῷ καὶ θετὸν γενόμενον, εἰ ᾔδει σε δεξόμενον Αἰνεάδην ἀντὶ Ἡρακλείδου γενέσθαι· τοῦτο γὰρ αὐτὸν ἐνδοιάσαι, πολὺν τῆς διαδοχῆς λόγον ποιούμενον, App. BC 3.16; cf. Antony’s reply at 3.19; see Evans’s comments, 1992: 43).

sacrifices to his dead father, on the inherent piety of such a rite, suggesting an implicit comparison of Augustus with Aeneas on account of their filial devotion: “Aeneas, the suitable promoter of piety, brought this custom to your lands, just Latinus. He would bring solemn gifts to his father’s guardian spirit.”76 Contemporary poetry likewise contains increasing references to Aeneas as Augustus’s ancestor (or to Augustus as Aeneas’s descendant).77 After its early appearance on Regulus’s coin, Aeneas’s pietas became a popular motif in Roman public art, both through the representation of Aeneas’s escape from Troy and in scenes of sacrifice. In the first iconography, the hero was now portrayed not only carrying his father on his shoulders, but also holding his son Julus by the hand (as a possible reference to Aeneas’s Julian descendants) and rescuing the Penates, held in a cista by Anchises. This was the iconography used for the statuary group placed in central position in the Forum Augustum (cf. chap. 1.3) and still visible on a number of contemporary monuments.78 In the second iconography, Aeneas is portrayed preparing for the sacrifice of the fated sow on the site of the future town of Lavinium, an image that symbolized his devotion to the gods and his role as founder in accordance with the gods’ designs—just as Augustus was the fated new founder of Rome—and that also emphasized the figure of Aeneas as priest, and thus his bond with the pontifex maximus Augustus.79 This scene appears on the so-called Belvedere Altar and, most notably, on the western frieze of the Ara Pacis,

76 Ov. Fast. 2.543-5: hunc morem Aeneas, pietatis idoneus auctor, / attulit in terras, iuste Latine, tuas. / ille patris Genio sollemnia dona ferebat. Cf. Evans 1992: 43-44. 77 Cf., for instance, the references to Caesar and Augustus as Iulus’s progeny in Verg. Aen. 6.789-95, with Horsfall’s comments (2013: 538-43); cf. Georg. 3.35-36. With Horace’s Carmen saeculare (49-52) the association between Augustus and Aeneas appears in an official prayer for the first time (Scheid 2003: 117-38). Here Augustus figures as clarus Anchisae Venerisque sanguis (Carm. saec. 50); cf. Sat. 2.5.62-63: ab alto / demissum genus Aenea. The Carmen saeculare was composed under Augustus’s commission for the celebration of the ludi saeculares in 17 BC. On this festival see, in particular, Zanker 1988: 167-72; Galinsky 1996: 100-6; Feeney 2003: 106-16. 78 Such as the reliefs from the altar of the gens Augusta at Carthage and the Medinaceli monument, fig. 4, as well as contemporary wall-paintings from Pompeii. See Zanker 1988: 201-3; on the Medinaceli relief cycle see Schäfer 2013: 321-3. Aeneas’s iconography is also discussed, together with Romulus’s image, at chap. 4.1.1. 79 This connection is explicitly stated in Ov. Fast. 3.423-6: “gods of ancient Troy, the worthiest spoils to him who carries [you], being heavy with which Aeneas was safe from the enemy, a priest sprung from Aeneas touches the related divinities” (di veteris Troiae, dignissima praeda ferenti, / qua gravis Aeneas tutus ab hoste fuit, / ortus ab Aenea tangit cognata sacerdos / numina); cf. Herbert-Brown 1994: 66-67. Also, Dionysius relates that Iulus (whom he makes son of Ascanius) was given special religious authority at the death of his father to compensate the power given to Ascanius’s brother Silvius, who succeeded Ascanius as king of Alba. Dionysius states that this religious authority was preferable to the royal dignity for security and prerogatives and was still enjoyed at his days by Iulus’s descendants (i.e., the Julii; RA 1.70.3-4). The office in question is certainly that of pontifex maximus, which was held by Caesar since 63 BC (cf. Diod. 7.5.8 with Sacks’s comments, 1990: 161; cf. Erskine 2001: 20).

where Aeneas is portrayed sacrificing with his head veiled (fig. 5), a pose which is often seen in Augustus’s contemporary portraits as well.80 Aeneas’s pietas (or εὐσέβεια) is undoubtedly among the best-known traits of the hero since his earliest appearances in art and literature. In the Iliad, for instance, Poseidon describes Aeneas to Hera in the following terms, “He always gives the gods agreeable gifts,”81 emphasizing Aeneas’s religious devotion (cf. chap. 3.2.1, above). In Latin, the term pietas had a broad meaning, indicating the dutiful behaviour not only towards the gods—or as Cicero puts it, est enim pietas iustitia adversum deos (Nat. 1.116; cf. Dom. 107; Leg. 2.19)—but also towards one’s parents and country.82 In the Aeneid, Virgil introduces Aeneas as insignem pietate virum (Aen. 1.10; cf. 6.403) and regularly associates Aeneas’s name with the epithet pius (cf., e.g., 1.220, 1.305, 1.378; 4.393; 5.26, 5.286, 5.418, 5.685; 6.9, 6.176, 6.232, etc.). The notion of pietas was frequently used in political contexts for individual self-promotion during the civil wars and especially in the late forties BC, being adopted by Octavian and his rivals alike.83 After his triumph, however, this quality became exclusive to his self-presentation, symbolizing both his filial devotion to Caesar, his religious ‘restoration’ of the state, and his dutiful and selfless commitment towards the res publica. The period of the civil wars had witnessed the rise of power-hungry personalities—such as Sulla, Caesar, and Antony—who had openly sought their personal interests and the imposition of their influence to the detriment and great suffering of the entire nation. Their autocratic model, however, had proved ill-suited for permanent governance alongside a senatorial class which jealously guarded its freedom and traditions, and had ultimately failed. In order to remain in power and reinforce his authority, Augustus had to show that his rule did not serve his private ambition

80 Cf. Zanker 1988: 126-9, 203-5; Evans 1992: 45-52; also, Galinsky 1969: 9-10, 1996: 142, 319-21. Rehak (2001: 190-208) has recently argued that the figure in question is not Aeneas but Numa (cf. also chap. 4.1.2). 81 Il. 20.298-9: κεχαρισμένα δ’ αἰεὶ / δῶρα θεοῖσι δίδωσι. Cf. Xen. Cyneg. 1.15; Lycoph. Alex. 1270. The tradition of Aeneas’s pietas is treated in Galinsky 1969: 3-61; cf. Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 13-14. 82 Cicero supplies abundant instances of the use of this term in all the above-mentioned meanings; cf., e.g., Plan. 80: quid est pietas nisi voluntas grata in parentes? And again, Rep. 6.16: iustitiam cole et pietatem, quae cum magna in parentibus et propinquis tum in patria maxima est. See further examples with comments in Weinstock 1971: 248- 50. 83 For example, during the triumviral proscriptions a certain M. Oppius was highly praised for leading his proscribed father to safety by carrying him out of Rome on his shoulders, and his gesture was promptly compared to that of Aeneas (App. BC 4.41). Sex. Pompeius reproduced the figure of Pietas on his coins of 45-44 BC and called himself Pius. In the battle of Munda (45 BC), pietas was used as password among the Pompeians (App. BC 2.104). After Philippi Octavian founded the colony of Pietas Iulia (i.e., Pola, on which cf. Pliny NH 3.129). Antony as a triumvir in 41 BC minted coins with his head paired to the figure of standing Pietas on the reverse (RRC 516/4, aureus, and 516/5, denarius); and Antony’s brother Lucius contextually took the cognomen Pietas out of devotion for his brother (Dio 48.5.4; on these examples, see Weinstock 1971: 254-5).

but was instead at the service of the res publica, which he restored not only “in a legalistic sense,” but also in its values and traditions.84 Pietas was among the virtues inscribed on the golden shield (the so-called clipeus virtutis), which the senate bestowed upon him in 27 BC, together with the title ‘Augustus’. The four cardinal qualities listed on the shield were: virtus, clementia, iustitia, and pietas.85 These represented the moral foundations of Augustus’s government. Virtus had a competitive (besides a moral) aspect and denoted military valour not merely as an individual distinction, but with a view to contributing to Rome’s victory.86 Clementia had been specifically (though not exclusively) connected with Caesar and indicated the practice of leniency toward a defeated and submissive enemy.87 Iustitia signalled both Augustus’s return to a government regulated by law and cooperation with the Senate, and his conduct in war, which figured exclusively as bellum iustum.88 Lastly, pietas—“the most quintessentially Roman virtue”89—bore with it the notion of social responsibility and implied the sacrifice of personal interests and needs in the name of the country. It represented the sense of duty that had made the deeds of the Roman maiores exemplary and that now inspired Augustus’s own action. This brief overview has highlighted the importance that the Aeneas legend had acquired in Rome by the time in which Dionysius was writing and its key features. As will emerge from my analysis of his text, Dionysius highlights aspects of the existing tradition about Aeneas to which a non-Roman readership more easily related, with the purpose of demonstrating the ‘Greekness’ of Rome’s progenitor. To this presentation, however, Dionysius added features that were emphasized in the Augustan development of the Aeneas legend and that depended mainly on Roman sources, as I discuss in detail below.

84 Galinsky 1996: 81. On Augustus and the senate cf., e.g., Brunt 1984: 423-44. 85 Cf. RG 34.2. The inscription on the shield is known through a copy from Arles (Arelate): “The senate and the Roman people gave to Imperator Caesar, son of the god, Augustus a shield of valour, clemency, justice, and piety towards the county and the gods” (senatus / populusque Romanus / Imp. Caesari Divi f. Augusto / cos. VIII dedit clupeum / virtutis clementiae / iustitiae pietatis erga / deos patriamque, ILS 81; cf. Cooley 2009: 266-71 for complete references to the monuments on which the shield was reproduced). 86 On the significance of these virtues, cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1981: 298-323; Ramage 1987: 74-100; Galinsky 1996: 80-90. 87 On the definition of clementia cf. Cic. Off. 1.35; Verg. Aen. 6.853; on Augustus’s practice of it, cf. RG 3.1-2 88 On the notion of iustitia cf., e.g., Cic. Off. 1.20, 2.38, Rep. 6.16; Hor. Carm. 3.3.1-4 (with comments in Nisbet and Rudd 2004: 38-39); on the bellum iustum, cf. RG 26.3 and discussion with further references at chap. 4.2.3. 89 Galinsky 1999: 86.

3.3 Aeneas’s Story in Dion. Hal. RA 1.46-64

Dionysius’s version of the Aeneas legend may be divided into three distinct sections. The account of Aeneas’s last few days in Troy (RA 1.46-48) is related at length and provides a precise picture of the figure of Aeneas. The account of Aeneas’s sea travels is instead very compressed, being mostly a list of the places visited by Aeneas on his route to Italy with hardly any comments on his behaviour and deeds (RA 1.49-54). The narration of Aeneas’s adventures in Latium progresses, with the exception of the excursus on Aeneas’s genealogy, at a fast pace and in a captivating way (RA 1.55-64). Given the unique features of each one of these sections, I divide my study into three parts, and for each one I try to determine Dionysius’s intentions. As will emerge, Dionysius emphasizes different features about the figure of Aeneas in the different portions of his text. In the account of Aeneas’s last days in Troy and his departure (3.3.1), Dionysius offers an image of him which closely recalls the Homeric hero in the prominence given to Aeneas’s martial valour and wisdom. Despite Aeneas’s divine descent, there is no divine intervention in the narrative. For this section, Dionysius directly follows Greek writers, chiefly Hellanicus. The account of Aeneas’s sea travel (3.3.2) is marked by the impressive amount of evidence, both literary and archaeological, that Dionysius lays out to support the idea that Aeneas moved to Italy from the Troad. His sources are unspecified. Next, in the description of Aeneas’s settlement in Italy and foundation of Lavinium (3.3.3), Dionysius appears to use local traditions more freely. This last section is characterized by the inclusion of numerous stories of prodigies, which clash with the rationalizing mood of the previous narrative, by the greater emphasis that Dionysius puts on Aeneas’s εὐσέβεια, and by the key notion of the Trojans’ ‘Greekness’ and Greek genealogy. As I suggest, Dionysius’s account (especially the first section) reflects his intention of highlighting elements of the Aeneas legend that would have been better known to his Greek readership and that at the same time hint at the inherent Greek character of Aeneas. This may also support Dionysius’s decision to follow mostly early Greek traditions (rather than Roman sources) for the first section. Secondly, I argue that Dionysius ‘sacrifices’ the consistency of his narrative—notably changing themes and tones in the second and third sections—in order to prove beyond any doubt that Aeneas arrived in Italy and was the fated founder of Lavinium (see below, section 3.2.2). As the progenitor of the Romans, Aeneas founded his dynasty on distinct values, which Dionysius envisioned as the moral foundations of the Roman Empire.

3.3.1 Aeneas’s Resistance against the Greeks and Escape from Troy (RA 1.46-48)

Dionysius’s account of Aeneas’s journey begins with the observation that some historians were still ignorant about Aeneas’s arrival in Italy or had related it in a different manner, a complaint that is emphatically repeated in nearly the same terms a few chapters later.90 This assertion, while suggesting only a limited diffusion of Roman and Augustan ideas about the Trojan hero outside Italy, indicates an advantage for Dionysius, as he could manipulate his sources more freely and present as ‘true’ specific variants of the myth—namely, those which supported the notion of Aeneas’s Greek ancestry as well as the story of his arrival in Latium and foundation of the Alban dynasty. For the first part of Aeneas’s story, that is, his survival and his escape from Troy, Dionysius claims to follow the narrative recorded by Hellanicus in his Troika (RA 1.46-47 = FGrH 4 F 31; cf. RA 1.48.1).91 Before getting to the heart of Dionysius’s narrative, I would like to discuss his reference to another Trojan survivor, Antenor. Before introducing Aeneas to his account, Dionysius briefly reminds his readers of the means by which the Achaeans captured Ilium, which fell—as he writes—either “by the deceit of the wooden horse, as it is related by Homer, or by the treachery of the Antenoridae or by some other means.”92 This arid allusion to Antenor and his subsequent disappearance from the rest of the story may appear to be of slight significance for the development of the narrative. However, as Dominique Briquel has convincingly argued, it in fact has important implications.93 Antenor was a well-known character in the Trojan saga and his association with Aeneas dated back to the earliest stages of it. The two heroes are introduced together in the Iliad (2.822-3) and are often shown as a pair on vase paintings.94 According to a well-attested tradition, like Aeneas, Antenor also escaped from Ilium with his own expedition, a group of Enetians coming

90 RA 1.45.4: “But also about the arrival of Aeneas in Italy, since the account concerning it is unknown to some historians and disputed by others, I want to give a detailed report after comparing the most reliable histories of both the Greeks and Romans” (βούλομαι δὲ καὶ περὶ τῆς Αἰνείου παρουσίας εἰς Ἰταλίαν, ἐπεὶ τῶν συγγραφέων τοῖς μὲν ἠγνόηται, τοῖς δὲ διαπεφώνηται ὁ περὶ αὐτοῦ λόγος, μὴ παρέργως διελθεῖν τάς τε τῶν Ἑλλήνων καὶ τὰς Ῥωμαίων τῶν μάλιστα πιστευομένων ἱστορίας παραβαλών). Cf. 1.53.4, discussed below. 91 On Dionysius’s relation to Hellanicus and early Greek writers cf. Toye 1999: 279-302. 92 RA 1.46.1: εἴτε τοῦ δουρείου ἵππου τῇ ἀπάτῃ, ὡς Ὁμήρῳ πεποίηται, εἴτε τῇ προδοσίᾳ τῶν Ἀντηνοριδῶν εἴτε ἄλλως πως. The story of the wooden horse is related in Hom. Od. 4.271-89, 8.492-515; Verg. Aen. 2.13-267. 93 For the present discussion I have followed Briquel 1990: 125-35; Mora 1995: 138 with notes 100-2; and Vanotti 1995: 128-30. 94 Cf. Galinsky 1969: 55 with notes 103-4. In the Iliad Antenor’s two sons, Archelochus and Acamas, are described as accompanying Aeneas when he is first presented as general of the Dardanians in the catalogue of the ships (2.822-3).

from Paphlagonia. His fleet sailed through the Adriatic and landed in northern Italy. There Antenor settled with his followers, thereafter called Veneti, and finally founded the city of Padua. The Trojan descent of the Veneti was endorsed in Cato’s Origines (Peter F42 = Cornell F58 = Pliny NH 3.130; cf. also OGR 1.4-6) and in Livy’s history. In particular, Livy relates that the Greeks, upon conquering Troy, spared both Aeneas and Antenor, partly because of old guest-friendship relations and partly because the two Trojans had been in favour of surrendering Helen. Once in Italy, Antenor defeated the local people called Euganei and founded a city named Troy (Liv. 1.1.1- 3; cf. Strab. 1.3.2, C 48; 3.2.13, C 150; Verg. Aen. 1.242-9; Tac. Ann. 16.21.1).95 Strabo specifies, in his Geography, that Antenor had once shown hospitality to Menelaus and, citing a play by Sophocles, adds that during the capture of Troy a leopard skin was placed in front of Antenor’s door as a sign that his house was to remain untouched in the looting of the city (Strab. 13.1.53, C 608; cf. Paus. 10.27.3; Eus. ad Il. 2.205-8). In a later development of this story, Antenor passed from being an old guest-friend of the Achaeans to actually betraying his city to them. This version appears in Lycophron’s Alexandra—where Antenor is described as a “snake” who made fire signals with a torch to the Achaeans hidden in the belly of the wooden horse (Alex. 340-3)—and in the work of the early first-century BC Roman historians L. Cornelius Sisenna (Peter F1 = Cornell F1 = Serv. Aen. 1.242) and Q. Lutatius Catulus (or Daphnis, cited in OGR 9.1-2). Dionysius not only embraces this tradition and presents Antenor and his sons as traitors but is also silent about Antenor’s survival and journey to Italy, in spite of the manifest popularity of this legend. Dionysius’s aim in removing Antenor from his narrative (or, at any rate, in restricting his role to the capture of Troy) was possibly to emphasize, right from the beginning, that Aeneas and his people were the only Trojan survivors who actually arrived in Italy. In this way, Dionysius could limit the Trojan presence in the peninsula to Rome’s mother towns, Lavinium and Alba Longa. On the other hand, the appearance of Antenor in Italy caused some embarrassment to Virgil as well. In fact, the Aeneid’s opening lines assert the priority of Aeneas’s arrival (cf. Aen. 1.1-2: qui primus Italiam venit), in plain contradiction of Venus’s subsequent account of Antenor’s journey to Northern Italy and his foundation of Padua (Aen. 1.242-9)—a contradiction that Virgil’s commentators could not unanimously solve.96

95 Cf. Ogilvie 1965: 35-37. 96 Cf. Ando 2002: 125-6, who outlines the various hypotheses in his discussion about the meaning of Italia; the anonymous author of the OGR suggested reading primus as princeps, that is, “the most prominent” instead of “first

This dismissal of Antenor clears away any competition for Aeneas’s enterprise. Right from Aeneas’s introduction and first few actions, it is evident that he will be the sole protagonist of the present narrative, as Dionysius has him devise every single move to defend the city and save its people. After relating that the Achaeans by whatever means captured Ilium and slew most of the inhabitants, Dionysius abruptly inserts Aeneas into the story, thereby underlining the centrality of his figure: “Aeneas and the Trojans who were present with him as allies of the Ilians from the town of Dardanus and Ophrynium...seized the citadel of Pergamum.”97 In his narrative, Dionysius emphasizes Aeneas’s military prowess, practical wisdom, and—to a lesser extent—εὐσέβεια. In recounting Aeneas’s battle on the citadel and his rescue of a multitude of Trojans, Dionysius underscores his bravery as well as his resourcefulness in finding a stratagem (μηχάνημα) to check the enemy (RA 1.46.2). When Aeneas’s plan to defend the city becomes objectively impossible (ἀμήχανον), he decides to abandon the acropolis and retreat to Mount Ida (1.46.3). Dionysius stresses Aeneas’s resolution through the repetition, within the space of a few sentences, of phrases indicating Aeneas’s reasoning process: λογισμὸν δὲ τὸν εἰκότα...λαμβάνων; εἰς νοῦν βάλλεται; δόξαν δὲ αὐτῷ (1.46.2-3). Next, we are told that Aeneas sends away the civilians and some of the troops, while he himself with the most valiant soldiers keeps the Achaeans at bay. As he finally abandons the citadel, he carries his father and his ancestral gods with him on the best chariot (1.46.4; cf. 1.47.6 discussed below). This portrait is strongly reminiscent of the Homeric characterization of the hero. In the Iliad, Aeneas is introduced as “the brave son of Anchises” (ἐῢς πάϊς Ἀγχίσαο) and leader of the Dardanians (2.819); he is frequently paired with Hector, the best warrior of the Trojans (see, e.g., 5.467-8, 6.77-79, 11.57-58, 16.536-7, etc.), and referred to as a formidable fighter (5.245-8, 5.297- 302, 13.468-9, 13.481-6).98 Also, in the Homeric poem Aeneas is addressed with the epithets “counsellor of the Trojans” (Τρώων βουληφόρος, 5.180, 13.463, 17.485, 20.83) and “wise in battle” (δαΐφρων, 20.267),99 which match Dionysius’s references to Aeneas’s wisdom. Aeneas’s εὐσέβεια surfaces, for the time being, only indirectly through the reference to Aeneas’s care for

in a chronological sequence” (OGR 1.4-7). Alternatively, Servius proposed that Virgil still regarded the Rubicon as the Italian border, so Antenor would have actually landed in Cisalpine Gaul, not in Italy (Serv. Aen. 1.1-2). 97 RA 1.46.1: Αἰνείας δὲ καὶ οἱ σὺν αὐτῷ παρόντες Ἰλιεῦσιν ἐπίκουροι Τρῶες ἐκ Δαρδάνου τε πόλεως καὶ Ὀφρυνίου ... τὴν ἀκρόπολιν καταλαμβάνονται. 98 Cf., in particular, Galinsky 1969: 11-20; Horsfall 1979: 372-3. See also chap. 3.2.1, above. 99 Cf. Galinsky 1969: 36-40; Horsfall 1979: 372-3; Lycophron too describes Aeneas as “best in counsel” (βουλαῖς ἄριστος, Alex. 1235).

the escape of his father and the ancestral gods. It seems safe to assume that Dionysius’s intention for this first portion of his narrative was to present a character immediately identifiable by his Greek readers and likewise consistent with his Homeric portrait. While other versions of Aeneas’s escape were undoubtedly available and known to Dionysius (as I discuss below), this characterization, which owes much to its Homeric precedent, had the advantage of highlighting Aeneas’s qualities as leader. The contemporary Virgilian epos established a quite different image of Aeneas in Roman literature. While no textual references suggest that Dionysius had read Virgil (pace Vanotti),100 it is conceivable that Dionysius knew Virgil’s work, given his familiarity with the contemporary intellectual milieu of the capital and his extensive learning. The Virgilian hero, however, was likely of little use for Dionysius’s purposes. As mentioned in the previous section, the central feature of Aeneas in Virgil’s poem was his pietas (cf. chap. 3.2.2, 3.2.4 above). His valour often emerges in the Aeneid as well,101 but it is paired with Aeneas’s most noticeable quality (cf. Aen. 6.403: pietate insignis et armis).102 In addition, unlike the wise and pragmatic hero of the Roman Antiquities, the Virgilian Aeneas experiences strong emotions,103 which he eventually has to suppress in order to fulfil his destiny, and is often driven to act by other characters’ intervention, rather than by his independent reasoning. In a representative passage, while fighting within Troy’s walls, he is shown to be possessed by a heroic frenzy, expressing the “Homeric” desire to die a glorious death:104 “Distracted I seize my weapons; and there is not enough reason in weapons, but my spirit is eager to amass a force for war and to run up to the citadel with my companions. Fury and rage throw my mind headlong, and the thought occurs that it is beautiful to die in arms.”105 Only after witnessing the cruel death of King Priam and receiving precise instructions from his divine mother does

100 Vanotti bases her argument on the similarities between the structures of the two accounts (1995: 12-13; see pp. 81-90 on the differences between Virgil’s and Dionysius’s versions). 101 Cf., in particular, the description of Aeneas’s deeds in Book Two (that is, the battle inside the city while it is being conquered by the Achaeans; see esp. Aen. 2.314-485, with Horsfall’s analysis, 2008: 267-373), and throughout the second half of the poem, which recounts the war between Trojans, Latins, and Rutuli. 102 On this line see comments in Horsfall 2013: 307-8 with previous references. Cf. also Aen. 11.291-2, where Diomedes speaking of Aeneas and Hector states that both heroes were outstanding warriors, but Aeneas surpassed Hector in pietas: “both were distinguished in courage, both in outstanding weapons, Aeneas here was first in pietas” (ambo animis, ambo insignes praestantibus armis, / hic pietate prior). 103 See also the frequent occurrences of Aeneas’s frightened or amazed feelings; e.g., his reaction at the sight of Priam’s body (Aen. 2.559-63) or his encounter with Creusa’s ghost at 2.771-4 (in both cases signalled by obstipui). 104 Wilson 1969: 67. 105 Aen. 2.314-7: arma amens capio; nec sat rationis in armis, / sed glomerare manum bello et concurrere in arcem / cum sociis ardent animi; furor iraque mentem / praecipitat, pulchrumque mori succurrit in armis. On Aeneas’s characterization in Aen. 2 cf. Mackie 1988: 45-60. On Virgil’s description of Troy’s capture cf. Rossi 2002: 231-51.

Aeneas resolve to withdraw from battle. Again, upon departing from the city, the decision to carry away the ancestral sacra is not Aeneas’s own, but comes as advice from the vision of Hector in his sleep (Aen. 2.293-5). Also, while leading his family out of the city, Aeneas admits to being anxious and fearful, for both his life and that of his family members (2.726-9).106 Dionysius, for his part, shows little interest, for the time being, in dramatic effects such as emotional bursts and divine visions (though not denying altogether the possibility of supernatural intervention).107 His Aeneas displays no hesitation or conflicting emotions, is a capable general, a sensible and caring leader, and a quick and resolute decision-maker. As I previously argued, the qualities that Dionysius ascribes to him are reminiscent of the Homeric description of the hero and are meant to confer recognizable traits—as a character belonging to the Greek cultural heritage—on the progenitor of the Roman race. This portrait also continues in the account of Aeneas’s departure from Troy. In this regard, Dionysius relates that after leaving the citadel the Trojans gather on Mount Ida hoping for a quick departure of the enemy, but the Achaeans, having pillaged the city, decide to conquer the forts on the mountains to which the survivors had retreated and subdue them (RA 1.47.1-3). After some negotiations, however, the Achaeans agree to let the Trojans depart unharmed, provided that Aeneas and his people surrender their posts and leave within a fixed time. The Trojans are granted the right to carry off all the valuables collected during their flight from the citadel of Troy (1.47.4). Accordingly, Aeneas sends away his oldest son, Ascanius,108 and sets sail to Pallene “carrying the other children and his father and the seated (images) of the gods” (τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους παῖδας παραλαβὼν καὶ τὸν πατέρα καὶ τὰ ἕδη τῶν θεῶν, 1.47.6). Again, Dionysius underscores the

106 Aeneas’s emotions in selected scenes of the Aeneid are analyzed in Polleichtner 2005; the contrast between emotion and action in the figure of Aeneas is examined in Wilson 1969: 67-75; cf. Horsfall 2008: 510-2. 107 On Dionysius’s attitude towards myths and his criteria for inserting supernatural elements in his narrative see Gabba 1984a: 855-70, 1991: 118-25; Fromentin 1988: 318-26; Delcourt 2005: 58–60; more recently, Engels 2012: 151-75 (focusing on Dionysius’s treatment of public divination); Driediger-Murphy 2014: 330-349. See detailed discussion at chap. 2.1.3 d; cf. chap. 3.3.3 a, below. 108 According to Dionysius, Aeneas sent Ascanius with some Phrygian allies to the country of Dascylitis, where he had been requested as ruler (RA 1.47.5). Strabo also relates that Ascanius did not go to Italy but ruled over Scepsis in Troad together with Hector’s son Scamandrius, beginning a dynasty (Strab. 13.1.52, C 607; cf. Vanotti 1995: 132- 5). This report is problematic, for Ascanius (or Iulus) in the Latin tradition went to Italy with Aeneas where he founded the city of Alba (see, e.g., Cato Orig. Peter F9-11 = Cornell F6-8; Verg. Aen. 1.267-71; Liv. 1.1-3; Just. 43.1.13). Dionysius is clearly following a different account here, which he later reconciles with the Latin tradition by putting together elements of different versions. At RA 1.65.1, he states that Aeneas’s son Euryalon had changed his name to Ascanius during the flight (from Troy?) and became ruler over the Latins after Aeneas’s death. In OGR 14.5, Euryalon and Ascanius are said to be the same person. Dionysius seems to have been aware of this tradition too and may have used it to adapt Hellanicus’s story to the Romans’ one (namely, that Ascanius, also named Iulus, founded Alba Longa as well as the Julian lineage). On Ascanius in Hellanicus’s account see Pownall at BNJ 4 F 31.

absence of drama, the rational development of the events, Aeneas’s sensible judgment, and his active part in ensuring the Trojans’ safe departure. The circumstances of Aeneas’s departure from the Troad as described by Dionysius are notably different from those related by the other sources. Livy, for instance, with a hint at Aeneas’s pietas, states that he was given the chance to live and abandon his country “both because of ties of ancient hospitality, and because [Aeneas and Antenor] had always been advocates of peace and returning Helen” (et vetusti iure hospitii et quia pacis reddendaeque Helenae semper auctores fuerant, 1.1.1). Diodorus Siculus, likely following the Roman tradition, relates that Aeneas was allowed to leave Troy in complete safety on account of his εὐσέβεια, for when the Trojans were given the opportunity to choose an object to carry away with them, he lifted up his father on his shoulders; impressed by his gesture, the Achaeans allowed him to select a second item, and Aeneas picked “the ancestral sacred objects” (τὰ ἱερὰ τὰ πατρῷα) to general admiration: “For amidst the greatest dangers the man took the greatest care of piety towards parents and reverence towards the gods” (ἐφαίνετο γὰρ ὁ ἀνὴρ ἐν τοῖς μεγίστοις κινδύνοις πλείστην φροντίδα πεποιημένος τῆς τε πρὸς γονεῖς ὁσιότητος καὶ τῆς πρὸς θεοὺς εὐσεβείας, 7.4.4). As seen above, this was the version given by Varro (Schol. Verg. Veron. Aen. 2.717, and Serv. Aen. 2.636) and attested in Alexander of Ephesus, too (OGR 9.1; see chap. 3.2.2, above).109 Unlike the Roman tradition, Dionysius does not mention Aeneas’s pietas in the report of his departure but provides a less ‘emotional’ closure for Aeneas’s permanence in the Troad. As in Varro’s and Diodorus’s version, however, in Dionysius’s account too Aeneas leaves his hometown taking the ancestral sacra with him, a detail on which Dionysius remarks twice (RA 1.46.4 and 1.47.6). The sacra carried away from Troy by Aeneas were known in the Roman tradition as Penates. The motif of Aeneas’s rescue of the Penates was celebrated in contemporary art and literature and also recurs frequently in the Aeneid (cf., e.g., 1.68, 1.378-9, 2.293-5, 2.717, 2.747- 8, 3.12, 3.148-72, 4.598, 5.632, 7.120-1, 8.11, 8.39, etc.; cf. chap. 3.2.4, above). Its origin is not entirely clear but, as previously discussed, Timaeus was aware of the existence of Trojan sacra at Lavinium, which he presumably saw himself (FGrH 566 F 59 = RA 1.67.4). Horsfall, in fact, notes that the transportation of sacra by immigrants and refugees correspond to a literary topos (attested, e.g., by Hdt. 1.164, 166, and Paus. 7.2.11).110 But apart from Timaeus and Hellanicus (RA 1.46.4,

109 Cf. Galinsky 1969: 45; Vanotti 1995: 131-2. 110 Horsfall 1979: 383-9, mentioned above, at chap. 3.2.1.

1.47.6)—both cited by Dionysius only—and a brief mention in Xenophon’s Cynegeticus (1.15), references to Aeneas’s rescue of the Trojan sacra are otherwise absent from early Greek literature. Galinsky ascribes the genesis of this story to Italian or Etruscan sources, noting that in Greek art Aeneas is never portrayed carrying the cista with the Penates, whereas this image appears in Etruscan vase painting as early as the sixth century BC. Also, the Penates do not appear in association with Aeneas in Roman art, either, before the Augustan age, as the evidence of Caesar’s coin and Livineius Regulus’s coin for Octavian suggests. Thus, the significance of the Penates in the Aeneas legend—according to Galinsky—has to be connected with the Augustan promotion of Aeneas’s figure and the paramount emphasis given to Aeneas’s religious pietas.111 In addition, Augustus assumed the office of pontifex maximus in 12 BC, officially becoming the guardian of the pignora imperii and, as a result, of the Trojan Penates; he thereby had a twofold connection with these objects, both as Aeneas’s descendant and as pontifex maximus.112 While Aeneas’s rescue of the sacra is not incompatible with the earlier Greek tradition, as Horsfall has observed, the infrequent references to it in literature, either Greek or Latin, until the mid-first century BC appear peculiar. It is thus striking that Dionysius emphasizes Aeneas’s act of carrying the Penates twice within a few paragraphs despite drawing from a fifth-century BC source. I am inclined to think that Dionysius deliberately added this detail in his elaboration of Hellanicus’s story with the purpose of underscoring the Trojan (and therefore Greek)113 origin of the oldest Roman sacra. Later in his account, in fact, Dionysius returns to the theme of the Penates to explain their origin and identifies these gods with the Dioscuri (see Appendix). Whether we regard this theme as an Augustan ‘intrusion’ or as an actual ancient Greek tradition (or both), Dionysius elaborates it with different aims from those of his predecessors and contemporaries. Also, through this device—if we may call it that—Dionysius manages to support the idea of Aeneas’s pietas (which the other sources considered above had indicated as the reason why the Achaeans let him depart) without undermining Aeneas’s active role in negotiating the safe departure of the Trojans. In concluding the narrative of Aeneas’s escape from Troy, Dionysius comments:

111 Cf. Galinsky 1969: 59-61. Cf. chap. 3.2.4 above. 112 Augustus could claim an exceptional relation in particular to Vesta, in whose temple the pignora imperii were preserved. On Augustus as pontifex maximus and his relation to Vesta cf. Herbert-Brown 1994: 63-81. 113 According to his stance that the Trojans descended from the Greeks (cf. the general introduction to this chapter and the detailed discussion about the Trojans’ genealogy at section 3.3.3 b).

This is then the most plausible of the accounts about Aeneas’s escape, which Hellanicus, one of the old historians, used in his Troika. Accounts about the same events which are not along these lines are related in turn by some others, which I, for my part, believe less plausible than this one. But let each reader pick as he wants.114

This idea is restated at the end of Dionysius’s report of the other versions of the story: “But let it stand as each one convinces himself” (ἐχέτω δ᾽ ὅπῃ τις αὑτὸν πείθει, RA 1.48.4). This sort of injunction is recurrent in Dionysus’ narrative, especially in Book One,115 so it shall be useful to reiterate what I asserted in Chapter Two about Dionysius’s methodology, and also Wiater’s argument about reader participation in the Roman Antiquities. As previously considered, Dionysius frequently proposes a number of variants of an episode and offers comments on their plausibility or on the credibility of their respective sources. Sometimes (as here) the last word is left to the reader—a ‘strategy’ that, as mentioned, Wiater ascribes to Dionysius’s attempt to build up his credibility and strengthen his authority as historian by engaging in a sort of dialogue with his readers (cf. chap. 2.1.3 d). In the present case, Wiater observes, Dionysius gives “a surprisingly straightforward account of Aeneas’s departure from Troy without signs of doubt or disagreement,”116 only to state, at the very end of it, that the account draws on Hellanicus’s Troika and is the most reliable of the ones about these specific events (RA 1.48.1, above). The other versions subsequently presented (1.48.2 to 1.49.2), according to Wiater, are deliberately chaotic and attributed to little known sources in order to urge the readers to trust Dionysius’s own expertise and ultimately direct their preference towards Hellanicus’s version:

Dionysius prejudices his readers from the start by contrasting the straightforward and unproblematic narrative from Hellanicus with the confusing chaos of the alternative versions accumulated in the following chapters. Notice in particular the wealth of foreign place names, only a few of which would presumably have meant much to his readers, which are crammed into Dionysius’s summary of divergent accounts of Aeneas’s journey along with gratuitous further information on the places themselves, as well as a battery of names of authors that already in Dionysius’s time must have been known only to readers with a particular antiquarian interest (1.49.1-2).117

Wiater’s analysis of Dionysius’s narrative technique is persuasive, in its demonstration that giving many options to the readers and allowing them to chose for themselves only creates an illusion of free choice, as Dionysius’s purpose is in fact to emphasize the readers’ need of his guidance to

114 RA 1.48.1: ὁ μὲν οὖν πιστότατος τῶν λόγων, ᾧ κέχρηται τῶν παλαιῶν συγγραφέων Ἑλλάνικος ἐν τοῖς Τρωικοῖς, περὶ τῆς Αἰνείου φυγῆς τοιόςδε ἐστίν. εἴρηνται δὲ καὶ ἄλλοις τισὶ περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν οὐ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχοντες λόγοι, οὓς ἧττον ἔγωγε τούτου πιθανοὺς εἶναι νομίζω. κρινέτω δὲ ὡς ἕκαστος τῶν ἀκουόντων βούλεται. 115 Cf. Schultze 2004: 97. 116 Wiater 2017: 236. 117 Wiater 2017: 238; cf. the whole discussion at pp. 236-247.

orient themselves among the plethora of versions available. As I show below, however, establishing his authority is not an end in itself for Dionysius—a point that Wiater does not stress enough—but it serves the overall aims of Dionysius’s project (cf. section 3.3.2). As to why Hellanicus’s account is judged as “the most plausible” for this first part of Aeneas’s enterprise, we may refer to the criteria (again, mentioned at chap. 2.1.3 d) that have been identified by Schultze to understand how Dionysius assessed his sources. Among these criteria, antiquity appears as the most important, followed by the reliability of the author, and the support of testimonies and physical evidence. While there is no explicit reason in the text for the preference granted to Hellanicus’s version, if we follow these criteria his antiquity and reputation as a historian may have been decisive in Dionysius’s evaluation. In terms of content, moreover, Hellanicus’s account appears to fit with Dionysius’s overall conception and presentation of Aeneas as a just and resolute leader (discussed below, section 3.3.3). Other motives for Dionysius’s choice emerge from the comparison with the versions labelled as less credible, which I briefly consider in the following paragraphs. Although the reasons for discounting them remain conjectural, they may give us a further glimpse into Dionysius’s reasoning process and methodology. The second version of the story that Dionysius presents was handed down in Sophocles’s lost play Laocoon. As Dionysius relates it, in Sophocles’s play Aeneas fled with his entire household to Mount Ida before the Greek occupation of the city, in obedience to the instructions of his father, who had learnt about the imminent disaster from both Aphrodite and the omen of Laocoon’s death (RA 1.48.2). Of Sophocles’s account, Dionysius cites only a few lines spoken by a messenger describing the “son of the goddess” in the act of carrying on his shoulders his old father, who had once been impaired by Zeus’s thunderbolt.118 It is worth noting that Sophocles’s play offers one of the first attestations in literature of the image—already shown in art—of Aeneas carrying his father on his shoulders, which symbolized Aeneas’s filial devotion. This image, with the addition of the Penates and Ascanius at Aeneas’s side, became the most popular representation of the hero in the art and literature of the Augustan age (cf. Verg. Aen. 2.707-25; Ov. Met. 13.624- 5; see chap. 3.2.4 above). The Greek readers were surely familiar with this representation, even though it was not the only one in existance. Some early portraits of Aeneas feature a different

118 Sophocles’s version is commented on in Vanotti 1995: 140-1.

iconography and show the hero leading his father behind him, or show Anchises fleeing Troy alone with Ascanius.119 On this version Dionysius does not express any negative judgment, although he designates it explicitly as a δρᾶμα by a tragic poet (τραγῳδοποιός), a definition which may suggest a lack of historical reliability. It is true that, except for Homer, Dionysius seldom uses poets as sources for his history. Of the more than fifty authors in total that he cites, only a few are poets (four, according to Schultze’s computation: Homer, Arctinus, Aeschylus, and Sophocles, to whom we ought to add Agathyllus of Arcadia).120 Also, their authority is invoked exclusively for the remote past and for legendary characters: Aeschylus is cited with reference to Heracles (RA 1.41.3); Arctinus with reference to Dardanus (RA 1.68.2, 1.69.3); Agathyllus (RA 1.49.2) and Sophocles are mentioned in the context of the Aeneas legend; and Homer is cited about Aeneas (RA 1.46.1, 1.53.4-5), about the customs of the ancient Greek kings (RA 2.12.4, 5.74.2), and the origin of the Greek games (RA 7.72.3, 7.72.8, 7.72.16, 7.73.2-3).121 But in spite of the infrequent citations, Dionysius shows great respect for the poets’ opinions in all the mentioned passages. Thus, we ought to seek another reason for why Dionysius credited Hellanicus’s account as the most trustworthy. The two other versions reported about Aeneas’s escape from Troy are both unfavourable to Aeneas. In the account that Dionysius ascribes to Menecrates of Xanthus,122 Aeneas betrays Troy to the Achaeans out of hatred for Paris, and in exchange is permitted to save his household (RA 1.48.3 = FGrH 769 F 3). This version seems to have been quite popular among ancient scholars. Strabo relates that according to “the stories repeated over and over about Aeneas” (τὰ περὶ τοῦ Αἰνείου θρυλούμενα, Strab. 13.1.53, C 607), the hero survived the Trojan War because of his enmity with Priam, which was first mentioned by Homer: “For [Aeneas] was always angry with noble Priam because although he was brave Priam did not pay him any honour among his

119 For the first iconography see the scheme of the metope from the Parthenon at fig. 6; for the second cf. the so- called Iliupersis Krater from London (no image available); both are discussed in Galinsky 1969: 55-57, and Erskine 2001: 72. As Galinsky has observed, this type agrees with the Homeric description of Aeneas and stresses his qualities as a warrior, since Aeneas had to keep his body free from burdens in order to be ready for fight (ibid). 120 Schultze (2000: 22) lists in total fifty-three writers; to the four poets the scholar adds a certain Euxenus, to be possibly identified with the Latin poet Ennius. 121 Homer is further named as seemingly Pyrrhus addressed the Romans quoting the lines of Hector (Il. 7.242-3; RA frag. 20.6.1, cf. 20.9.2). Homer clearly held a special place for Dionysius among ancient sources and was treated as an undiscussed authority; cf. RA 7.72.3: “the most trustworthy and oldest of the witnesses” (μαρτύρων ἀξιοπιστότατός τε καὶ ἀρχαιότατος). Cf. Schultze 2000: 36, 2004: 98. 122 Menecrates wrote a local history on ancient Lycia (Lykiaka). He lived probably between the second half of the fifth and the fourth centuries BC. Cf. Fred Jenkins’s comment to BNJ 769 F 3 (2010); also, Vanotti 1995: 141-2.

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men.”123 Secondly, ‘others’ gave a more fabulous account of Aeneas’s departure (εἰσὶ δ᾽ οἳ μυθωδεστέραν αὐτοῦ ποιοῦσι τὴν ἔξοδον, RA 1.48.4). Compared to these versions, Hellanicus’s account had the advantage of presenting a rationalizing story of Aeneas’s departure while maintaining a positive image of Aeneas. While for other episodes Dionysius does not deny the possibility of divine interventions (as I discuss below, chap. 3.3.3 a), I suggest that in this specific case his primary interest was in fact to make Aeneas’s departure as plausible as possible even to the most skeptical readers. As stated in the introduction to this chapter, Aeneas and the Trojan survivors were crucial elements in the formation of the Latin ethnos and their presence in Italy was fundamental for Dionysius’s aim of demonstrating the Greek origin of the Roman people— inasmuch as the Trojans are themselves descended from the Greeks (cf. n. 113). Furthermore, Hellanicus’s Aeneas, as Dionysius describes him, presents marked traits of leadership which appear particularly desirable for the future ruler of the Latins and that also match the conceivably influential Homeric portrait of Aeneas.

3.3.2 From Troy to Laurentum: Aeneas’s Sea Travels (RA 1.49-54)

The section in which Dionysius relates Aeneas’s journey from the Troad to Italy presents a peculiar narrative form, almost resembling a tourist guide in its meticulous report of all the places where Aeneas stopped on his route to Latium. For each place, Dionysius gives a range of information concerning, for example, the memorials left by Aeneas upon his arrival, his establishment of rites or performance of sacrifices, and the circumstances under which some of his followers died (see details in the table below). Conceivably because of these traits, Dionysius himself recognizes that the account of the Trojan peregrinations constitutes a digression (παρέκβασις, RA 1.53.4). But while this section is of little use for my chief purpose in this chapter—that is, to analyze the figure of Aeneas and to situate it in Dionysius’s historical construction—some portions of it deserve close attention, because they make it possible to draw some important conclusions about the reception

123 Il. 13.460-1, cited in Strab. 13.1.53, C 607: αἰεὶ γὰρ Πριάμῳ ἐπεμήνιε δίῳ / οὕνεκ' ἄρ' ἐσθλὸν ἐόντα μετ' ἀνδράσιν οὔ τι τίεσκεν. On Aeneas’s betrayal cf. OGR 9.2, which names for this version Lutatius Catulus (or Daphnis) and the late compilers (possibly fourth or fifth centuries AD) Dictys Cretensis (Journal of the Trojan War 4.22) and Dares Phrygius (History of the Fall of Troy 40-41). As Bremmer-Horsfall has suggested based on Strabo’s indication, this version of the Aeneas legend may derive from “an over-attentive and imaginative reading of Homer” (1987: 14), since a few passages from the Iliad hint at a certain animosity between Aeneas and Priam (e.g., Il. 13.460-1, above, and 20.178-86; cf. also Galinsky 1969: 47-50; Horsfall 1979: 372-3, 384; Mora 1995: 138-9; Vanotti 1995: 141-2).

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of the Aeneas legend in the Greek world. As emerges from the analysis of his text, Dionysius does not describe a long list of places, monuments and deaths merely for the sake of accuracy or to give some variety to his history,124 but with the precise aim of persuading his readers of the exact identification of Aeneas—the progenitor of the Romans—as the hero who fought at Troy (see text below), and of his final destination as the future site of Rome. This aim is implied at the beginning of the digression, where Dionysius states that “the events after [Aeneas’s] departure make their perplexity even greater for most people” (τὰ δὲ μετὰ τὴν ἔξοδον ἔτι πλείω παρέχει τοῖς πολλοῖς τὴν ἀπορίαν, 1.49.1)—because of the existence of several versions of Aeneas’s journey125—and it becomes entirely clear in its concluding portion, where Dionysius declares:

I have related these events and made a digression by necessity, since some historians say that Aeneas did not go to Italy with the Trojans, others that it was another Aeneas, not the one born of Aphrodite and Anchises, others that it was Ascanius, son of Aeneas, and others other persons. And there are those who report that Aeneas, son of Aphrodite, after settling his company in Italy, returned to his country and reigned over Troy, and at the end of his life left the realm to his child Ascanius.126

Dionysius’s emphatic admission that he had to elucidate this matter by means of a dedicated section is suggestive of the significance that the figure of Aeneas held in his overall project. The list of the places that Aeneas visited with the respective memorials of his passage is necessary in order to trace with certainty (that is, through substantial evidence) Aeneas’s itinerary from the coasts of the Troad to the shores of Italy. In addition, Dionysius claims that Aeneas’s arrival in

124 Cf. RA 1.8.3, in which Dionysius advocates the necessity of mixing different styles to make the account less monotonous. On the principle of variety or ποικιλία cf. chap. 2.1.3 b. 125 Dionysius mentions the accounts of Cephalon of Gergis and Hegesippus, adding that both composed local histories on Pallene and stated that Aeneas, after leaving Troy, arrived only as far as Thrace and died there. He also cites Ariaethus, the author of the Arcadica, who wrote that Aeneas moved from Thrace to Orchomenus in Arcadia and settled there (RA 1.49.1 = FGrH 316 F 1). We know from a passage of Athenaeus’s Deipnosophists (9.393d = BNJ 45 T 7) that Cephalon was the pseudonym used by Hegesianax of Alexandria in Troad, who lived in the second century BC and apparently acted as ambassador of Antiochus in Rome in 196 and 193 BC. Cephalon is cited again at RA 1.72.1 (= FGrH 45 F 10), as he seemingly wrote that Rome was founded by Aeneas’s son Romus. Hegesippus of Mecyberna in the Thracian Chersonese lived in the second half of the fourth century BC (see Fred Jenkins’s commentary in BNJ 391; cf. Mora 1995: 141-2; Vanotti 1995: 143-4). On Ariaethus of Tegea cf. Strab. 13.1.53, C 608; see Madeleine Jost and James Roy’s commentary at BNJ 316 F 1 (2010); Vanotti 1995: 146-7. Also, Dionysius asserts that the (otherwise unknown) poet Agathyllus of Arcadia wrote in an elegy that Aeneas further moved from Arcadia to Hesperia, where he had a son named Romulus (RA 1.49.2 = BNJ 321 F 2; cf. Vanotti 1995: 147-8). 126 RA 1.53.4: Ἔργαψα δὲ ταῦτα καὶ τὴν παρέκβασιν ἐποιησάμην τοῦ ἀναγκαίου χάριν, ἐπειδὴ τῶν συγγραφέων οἱ μὲν οὐδ᾽ ἐλθεῖν Αἰνείαν φασὶν εἰς Ἰταλίαν ἅμα Τρωσίν, οἱ δ᾽ ἕτερον Αἰνείαν, οὐ τὸν ἐξ Ἀφροδίτης καὶ Ἀγχίσου γενόμενον, οἱ δ᾽ Ἀσκάνιον τὸν Αἰνείου, οἱ δ᾽ ἄλλους τινάς. εἰσὶ δ᾽ οἳ τὸν ἐξ Ἀφροδίτης Αἰνείαν λέγουσι καταστήσαντα τὸν λόχον εἰς Ἰταλίαν ἀνακομισθῆναι πάλιν οἴκαδε καὶ βασιλεῦσαι τῆς Τροίας, τελευτῶντα δὲ καταλιπεῖν Ἀσκανίῳ τῷ παιδὶ τὴν βασιλείαν.

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Italy was endorsed by the authority of ‘all’ the Romans and also by the survival among them of rituals and practices established by the Trojan hero.127 Besides proving the accuracy of his own version of Aeneas’s sea voyages through the evidence of the memorials left by Aeneas along his path, Dionysius also attempts to explain the existence of variants which denied either that Aeneas went to Italy in the first place or that, even if he did, he remained there. Accordingly, Dionysius shows the genesis of the common misunderstanding that, in his opinion (ὡς μὲν ἐγὼ εἰκάζω, 1.53.4), had misled so many writers. In his reasoning, the scholars that supported that view had misinterpreted the Homeric verses concerning Aeneas’s fate. In the Iliad, the god Poseidon utters the following prophecy, cited in Dionysius’s text (ibid): “But now indeed the power of Aeneas will rule over the Trojans (Τρώεσσιν), and so will the children of his children, and those who will come afterwards.”128 The same prediction is given in the Hymn to Aphrodite, as the goddess foretells Anchises’s future: “You will have a dear son who will rule among the Trojans, and children will be born of his children continuously.”129 This prophecy, by suggesting an interpretation of Τρώεσσιν as ἐν τῇ Τροίᾳ,130 seems to exclude any possibility that Aeneas left his motherland, and surely constituted a difficulty for anyone who maintained the tradition of the Trojan origin of Rome—or, as a matter of fact, of any other city outside the Troad. That is why some writers seemingly resorted to a clever emendation of the Homeric lines, as Strabo attests when commenting on Aeneas’s journey and on the claims advanced by some peoples about his descent.131 Strabo too was evidently among those who took ‘over the Trojans’ to mean ‘in Troy:’

For Homer indicates that Aeneas remained in Troy and accepted the rule and handed over its succession to the children of his children, after the race of Priam had been gotten rid of. (...) [Homer] disagrees even more with the others who say that Aeneas’s wandering [went] as far as Italy and set the end of his life there. Some

127 Cf. RA 1.49.3: “All the Romans are sure of the arrival in Italy of Aeneas and the Trojans and indications [are] the things that are accomplished by them both in sacrifices and festivals, and the Sibyl’s utterances and the Pythian oracles and many other things, which no one should overlook as fabricated for the sake of embellishment” (τῆς δ᾽ εἰς Ἰταλίαν Αἰνείου καὶ Τρώων ἀφίξεως Ῥωμαῖοί τε πάντες βεβαιωταὶ καὶ τὰ δρώμενα ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν ἔν τε θυσίαις καὶ ἑορταῖς μηνύματα, Σιβύλλης τε λόγια καὶ χρησμοὶ Πυθικοὶ καὶ ἄλλα πολλά, ὧν οὐκ ἄν τις ὡς εὐπρεπείας ἕνεκα συγκειμένων ὑπερίδοι). 128 Il. 20.307-8: νῦν δὲ δὴ Αἰνείαο βίη Τρώεσσιν ἀνάξει /καὶ παῖδες παίδων, τοί κεν μετόπισθε γένωνται. 129 Hymn 5.196-7: σοὶ δ' ἔσται φίλος υἱὸς ὃς ἐν Τρώεσσιν ἀνάξει / καὶ παῖδες παίδεσσι διαμπερὲς ἐκγεγάονται. 130 Horsfall 1979: 374. 131 Cf., e.g., Demetrius of Scepsis’s claim that Aeneas resided in his city, cited in Strabo’s text at 13.1.53, C 607. Demetrius composed a lost commentary on Homer’s catalogue of the Trojan forces; cf. Erskine 2001: 106-7. Gabba argues that Demetrius deliberately denied the relation between Trojans and Romans because of his anti-Roman feelings (Gabba 1974: 630-33; cf. Cornell 1975: 26-27).

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write, the race of Aeneas “will rule over everyone/everything (πάντεσσιν), and the children of his children,” meaning the Romans.132

The replacement, in the Homeric text, of Τρώεσσιν with πάντεσσιν indicated by Strabo finds an echo in the prophecy told by Apollo’s oracle in the Aeneid, which mimics the Homeric wording with the god forecasting: “There the house of Aeneas will rule over all shores (cunctis oris), and the children of his children and those who will be born of them.”133 Dionysius’s solution to this crux leaves the Homeric text unaltered while saving the tradition of Aeneas’s arrival in Italy. In his exegesis of the Homeric verses, ‘to rule over the Trojans’ (Τρώεσσιν) did not automatically signify ‘to rule over the Trojans in Troy,’ but in fact Aeneas could have ruled over them in Italy as well.134 These passages of Dionysius and Strabo attest to the thorny problem, which they both try to resolve, that the Homeric prophecy constituted for many authors (evidently excluding themselves). Unlike Dionysius, Strabo is clearly reluctant to contradict or reinterpret Homer,135 although he does include the Aeneas legend in his account of Rome’s origin (Strab. 5.5.2, C 229). Dionysius mentions one last problematic piece of evidence that could have weakened his thesis of Aeneas’s arrival in Italy: the presence of funerary monuments for Aeneas scattered in various sites across the Mediterranean, each one ostensibly showing that Aeneas had ruled and died there. Although this evidence, by Dionysius’s own admission, represented an obvious obstacle to assigning Aeneas’s settlement to just one place (in this case, Italy), Dionysius manages to get around it by formulating the following argument. As he suggests, such monuments ought to be regarded not as actual graves but rather as memorials (μνημεῖα) of Aeneas’s passage, built as symbols of thanksgiving by the local populations (RA 1.54.1). This was especially true, Dionysius

132 Strab. 13.1.53, C 608: ἐμφαίνει γὰρ [Ὅμηρος] μεμενηκότα τὸν Αἰνείαν ἐν τῇ Τροίᾳ καὶ διαδεδεγμένον τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ παραδεδωκότα παισὶ παίδων τὴν διαδοχὴν αὐτῆς, ἠφανισμένου τοῦ τῶν Πριαμιδῶν γένους. (...) πολὺ δὲ μᾶλλον τοῖς ἑτέροις διαφωνεῖ τοῖς μέχρι καὶ Ἰταλίας αὐτοῦ τὴν πλάνην λέγουσι καὶ αὐτόθι ποιοῦσι τὴν καταστροφὴν τοῦ βίου. τινὲς δὲ γράφουσιν Αἰνείαο γένος “πάντεσσιν ἀνάξει, καὶ παῖδες παίδων” τοὺς Ῥωμαίους λέγοντες. Cf. Horsfall 1979: 373-4; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 12; Casali 2010: 40-43. 133 Verg. Aen. 3.97-98: hic domus Aeneae cunctis dominabitur oris / et nati natorum et qui nascentur ab illis. On Apollo’s prophecy in the Aeneid and its Homeric echo cf. Miller 2009: 108-11. 134 RA 1.53.5: “Assuming that Homer knew that these men were rulers in Phrygia, they invented the return of Aeneas, on the ground that it was impossible [for them] to rule over Trojans while living in Italy” (ὑπολαβόντες οὖν τὸν Ὅμηρον ἐν Φρυγίᾳ δυναστεύοντας εἰδέναι τοὺς ἄνδρας, ὡς δὴ οὐ δυνατὸν ὂν ἐν Ἰταλίᾳ οἰκοῦντας βασιλεύειν Τρώων, τὴν ἀνακομιδὴν τοῦ Αἰνείου ἀνέπλασαν). See comments in Gruen 1992: 12-13; Vanotti 1995: 192-3; Erskine 2001: 100-1; cf. Wiater’s assessment (2017: 241): “By concluding this section with his criticism of other historians’ incompetent interpretation of Iliad 20.307-8, which led to their erroneous narratives of the past (ἀπάτη, 1.53.5), Dionysius further bolsters this ‘authority effect’ by demonstrating his competence as an interpreter of Homer.” 135 Cf. Strab. 1.1.2, C 2, where Strabo acclaims Homer as the founder of geography (ἀρχηγέτης τῆς γεωγραφικῆς ἐμπειρίας) and as the most expert of all men (ancient and posterior) not only in poetry but in his knowledge of public life (κατὰ τὸν βίον τὸν πολιτικόν). Cf. Dueck 2000: 31-40.

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argues, in the case of communities where Aeneas left some of his people, or which he founded himself, or which he benefited during his stay. To support this view, Dionysius names all the regions that were somehow linked with Aeneas’s deeds—namely, Troy, Bebrycia (Hellespont), Phrygia, Arcadia, and Sicily—and highlights all the acts of kindness that Aeneas carried out there during his sojourns, gaining the affection of the locals on each occasion (1.54.2). Following this line of reasoning, Dionysius concludes that Aeneas must have wound up in Italy, for otherwise it would be hard to explain the presence there of monuments dedicated to him.136 In this way, Dionysius attempts to transform a possible objection to his theory in evidence supporting it. The note about Aeneas’s tomb therefore constitutes a further means by which Dionysius attempts to prove the arrival of Aeneas in Italy. Dionysius meticulously narrates the stages of Aeneas’s journey, describing all the stops he made along the way and the traces he left of his passage in order to prove that such a journey actually did occur and ended there. This was of course essential for his project, since, in order to prove the Greek ancestry of the Romans,137 he first had to ensure that no doubts persisted about the identity of the forebear of the Roman race.

3.3.3 Aeneas’s Deeds in Latium (RA 1.55-64) a) The Arrival of Aeneas: Prophecies and Prodigies As mentioned in the brief introduction to section 3.3, there is a palpable change of tone between the account of Aeneas’s last days in Troy and the narrative of his deeds in Italy. In particular, while in the former Dionysius underscores Aeneas’s leadership by stressing his valour in battle and practical wisdom and leaves out supernatural or divine agents, the latter is characterized by the reporting of numerous prodigies and lays emphasis on Aeneas’s religious observance. In addition, the account of the alliance between the Trojans and the Aborigines revolves around the demonstration of the Trojan ‘Greekness,’ which—as remarked on a few times—was an essential element in Dionysius’s project. It ought to be noticed that despite the ongoing elaboration of the figure of Aeneas, Dionysius’s presentation of him remains closer to Greek and pre-Virgilian

136 RA 1.54.3: “For, say, which reasons could anyone suggest for his memorials in Italy, if he neither ruled over these places nor had his residence in them nor was well-known by them?” (ἐπεὶ φέρε τίνας ἂν αἰτίας ἔχοι τις ὑποθέσθαι τῶν ἐν Ἰταλίᾳ αὐτοῦ μνημάτων, εἰ μήτε ἦρξε τούτων τῶν χωρίων μήτε καταγωγὰς ἐν αὐτοῖς ἐποιήσατο μήθ᾽ ὅλως ἐγνώσθη πρὸς αὐτῶν;); cf. Vanotti 1995: 193-4; Erskine 2001: 96. Dionysius describes Aeneas’s tomb in Lavinium at RA 1.64; on Aeneas’s heroon, cf. Galinsky 1974: 2-11, 1992: 100-1; Erskine 2001: 143-4. 137 See discussion about the Greek origin of the Trojans below, section 3.2.3 b (also mentioned in the introduction).

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models than to the Augustan portrait of the hero. This new section on Aeneas’s deeds opens with an unequivocal hint at what the readers should expect in terms of content: “What was responsible for the fact that the Trojan expedition did not sail any further into Europe were both the oracles, which reached their fulfilment in those places, and the divinity, which displayed its will in many ways.”138 The account begins with the narrative of three consecutive prodigies involving Aeneas and his people, which I summarize as follows. 1) After the Trojans had put into port at Laurentum and disembarked, springs of fresh water gushed out spontaneously from the soil to quench their thirst. Dionysius claims that he had learnt about this report from the locals (“I report the information I received from the inhabitants,” λέγω δὲ ἃ παρὰ τῶν ἐγχωρίων παρέλαβον, RA 1.55.1) and that the stream was still visible in his days together with the altars on which Aeneas, “they fabulously report” (μυθολογοῦσι), offered his first sacrifice as a thanksgiving for the water (1.55.2).139 2) While the Trojans were taking their first meal on land, many of them put parsley (or wheat cakes) under their food to keep it clean; two of them ate the parsley (or the cakes), causing someone to exclaim that they had even eaten the tables (τράπεζα), “as the story has it” (ὡς λόγος ἔχει, 1.55.3). Following the orders of the oracle which had predicted this incident, the Trojans set out all the necessary items for a sacrifice and prepared to follow a four-footed animal, which, according to the god, was to halt in the site of their future city (that is, Lavinium).140 3) What the oracle had foreseen did indeed occur, and the sow destined for sacrifice ran off from the priests and stopped on a hill about twenty-four stades from the sea, followed at a distance by Aeneas (1.55.5-56.2).141 A further wondrous event completes the occurrence of this

138 RA 1.55.1: τοῦ δὲ μηκέτι προσωτέρω τῆς Εὐρώπης πλεῦσαι τὸν Τρωικὸν στόλον οἵ τε χρησμοὶ αἴτιοι ἐγένοντο τέλος λαβόντες ἐν τούτοις τοῖς χωρίοις καὶ τὸ δαιμόνιον πολλαχῶς τὴν ἑαυτοῦ βούλησιν ἐνδεικνύμενον. In spite of the plural χρησμοὶ, the oracle to which Dionysius refers is actually one, which, as Dionysius himself states in RA 1.55.4, was given to Aeneas during his journey to Italy either at Dodona or Erythrae on Mount Ida. On the problematic identification of the Sibyl of Erythrae (an unknown site) see Vanotti 1993: 151-7. 139 As Vanotti has observed, this account is unparalleled; however, this sort of prodigy can be paralleled elsewhere, e.g., in the biblical text of Exod. 17.1-7. The motif of want of water (or food) was generally connected with the theme of migration, as the miraculous appearance of water signalled the end of the journey (Vanotti 1995: 196). 140 This prodigy is mentioned in Lyc. Alex. 1250-2; Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232; Strab. 13.1.53, C 608 (who indicates a loaf of bread as ‘table’); Verg. Aen. 7.112-6; OGR 10.5-11.1, 12.1. Virgil refers to a wheat tray (cereale solum); in his text the prophecy is announced by the harpy Celaeno (3.253-7) and later by Helenus (3.394). Servius (Aen. 3.256) states that Varro related this episode as well, mentioning the oracle of Dodona as a source for the prophecy (as in Dionysius’s account; cf. Poucet 1989: 79-81; Vanotti 1995: 198-202). 141 On this sacrifice cf. OGR 12.2 (citing the historian M. Octavius, first century BC?): while the Trojans are preparing for sacrifice, the Achaean fleet commanded by Odysseus came into sight, so Aeneas veiled his head not to

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prodigy: as Aeneas was deeply troubled by the aridity of the site where the sow stopped and was pondering whether they should obey the oracle or leave, he heard a mysterious voice bidding him stay, “as they say” (λέγεται, 1.56.3). The voice, in addition, forecasted the foundation of a larger city (namely, Alba Longa) by Aeneas’s posterity after as many years as the number of young that the sow would give birth to (1.56.4-5). Dionysius avoids open comments on the truthfulness of these portents. To some degree he appears to endorse the first one by stating both that he heard it from the locals and that there was still evidence for it (that is, the altars on which Aeneas had sacrificed). However, he also makes it clear that what the inhabitants tell about it are fables (μυθολογοῦσι, 1.55.2 above). The remaining account is not attributed to specific sources, but rests upon a vague λέγεται (1.56.3, above, and 1.56.4).142 On the other hand, Dionysius does not supply variants for these stories, except for the last one, noting that according to some writers Aeneas was told about his future not by a voice coming from the wood, but by a god in his sleep. This variant, then, refers to a prodigy too, and Dionysius in fact leaves the determination of the truth to the gods: “the gods would know which way the truth is” (ὁποτέρως δὲ τἀληθὲς ἔχει θεοῖς ἂν εἴη γνώριμον, 1.56.5). The account of these portents, while contrasting with the rationalizing tone of the preceding narrative, is not inconsistent with Dionysius’s overall approach towards myths. As considered in the previous chapter, Dionysius often incorporates mythical material into his history. He rejects myths when they have an immoral character, as in the case of myths where the gods commit inappropriate actions (e.g., RA 1.77, 2.6; cf. chap. 2.1.3 d), and he seems generally cautious with the use of mythical stories, given the interpretative difficulties they entail for common people (as he claims at RA 2.20, on which see the discussion at chap. 4.2.2 c). The fact that he does not dispute the stories in question could thus depend on their overall edifying nature. These myths do in fact

be recognized, establishing the manner of sacrifice used thereafter by his posterity. This aetiology is present in the Aeneid as well: at 3.403-9 Helenus advises that Aeneas veils his head when first sacrificing in Latium in order not to disturb the omens with a hostile appearance. On the establishment and the religious significance of the cults graeco ritu, see Scheid 1995: 15-31; see also discussion at chap. 5.2.3. On the prophecy of the sow Fabius Pictor wrote that the city it signalled was not founded by Aeneas right after the prodigy, but thirty years later by his son, and it was called Alba from the white colour of the animal (Diod. 7.5.4-7 = frag. 4 Peter = FGrH 809 F 2); the same etymology for Alba Longa is related by Varro (LL 5.144; cf. RR 2.4.18), and Verg. Aen. 8.42-48, where the prophecy is uttered to Aeneas by the god Tiberinus in a dream; cf. Serv. Aen. 1.270; 3.392; also, Lyc. Alex. 1253-60 (here the thirty piglets indicate the number of cities founded by Aeneas). On these variants, cf. Mora 1995: 146-50; Vanotti 1995: 203-9; Gransden 2003: 188-90; on the significance of this prodigy for the Latins, cf. Alföldi 1965: 271-7. 142 Cf. Schultze 2000: 40-42, who lists the occurrences in the RA of tales depending on μυθολογοῦσι and tales depending on λέγεται (and related forms) and discusses Dionysius’s approaches to “mythical” and “historical” accounts.

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emphasize the predestination behind the founding of Lavinium and Alba and hence of Rome. This was, of course, the purpose of these stories all along. In the Augustan age, with its notable changes in the understanding of prodigies, they conceivably acquired even greater significance.143 Augustus, in particular, frequently publicized portents concerning his ‘advent’ and future successes at the head of the state (cf., e.g., Suet. Aug. 29.3, 91-92, 94-97). In the Aeneid, the connections between Aeneas’s undertakings and Augustus’s fated rule are repeatedly emphasized through portents and prophecies;144 and, as previously discussed (cf. chap. 3.2.4), a recurrent contemporary iconography of Aeneas portrayed the hero in the act of finding or sacrificing the prophesized sow on the site of Lavinium, as a reminder of his foundation of the city and—by analogy—of Augustus’s re-foundation of Rome. It is thus conceivable that these contemporary developments had a certain influence on Dionysius’s narrative of Aeneas in Latium. I argue, however, that Dionysius was not necessarily interested in the glorification of Rome (or of Augustus) for its own sake, but he rather used the account of prodigies to underscore with his Greek readers the notion of the inevitability and providential character of Roman domination— a notion that is made clearer, as we shall see, in the account of Romulus’s kingdom and the idea that the gods favoured the Romans’ durable government because of their superior moral qualities and practice of civic virtues (cf., in particular, RA 2.18 and discussion at chap. 4.2.2 c). Possibly for the same reason, later in the narrative Dionysius reports another—otherwise unattested— miraculous occurrence, which is told along the same lines as the others. When a fire broke out in the forest during the construction of Lavinium, a wolf was seen bringing dry wood in its mouth and throwing it onto the fire, an eagle fanned the flame with the motion of its wings, so as to stoke it, and a fox tried to quench the fire by wetting its tail in the river. At last, the wolf and the eagle prevailed, and the fox went away. In Aeneas’s interpretation, as related by Dionysius, the omen signified that the colony he was founding would gain the greatest renown, but at the same time it would cause the envy of its neighbours, who would try, in vain, to oppose its growth. A bronze monument apparently stood in the forum of Lavinium to commemorate this event (RA 1.59.4-5).

143 Cf. Engels 2012: 151-75, who has observed that, during the late Republican and early imperial ages, state divination had gradually lost importance in favour of portents directly involving great personalities. This appears to be confirmed by the frequent complaints, in contemporary literature, about the decline of public divination. Cf., e.g., Cic. Leg. 2.32, and Liv. 43.13.1, condemning the contemporary neglect of public prodigies; RA 2.6.1-4, 8.37.3, in which Dionysius criticizes the contemporary disregard of magistrates for the auspices. On the political use of prodigies for individual self-promotion see also Rosenberg 2007, esp. 300-3. 144 Cf., e.g., Jupiter’s prophecy at 1.257-96; the flame burning over Iulus’s head at 2.671-704; Anchises’s prophecy at 6.777-807; the description of Aeneas’s shield at 8.671-731; and Apollo’s address to Iulus at 9.641-4.

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As in the previous instances, Dionysius’s account is cautiously presented as a hearsay report (λέγεται), though substantiated by an ancient memorial.145 And even in this case Dionysius avoids commenting on the reliability of the story. The idea of divine support to Rome’s rise to power is suggested here for the fourth time within a few chapters, an aspect that seems to confirm Dionysius’s intention of persuading his readers of the fated role of Rome in history. Turning now to the figure of Aeneas, we may note that in this section Dionysius hints at Aeneas’s εὐσέβεια more frequently than before.146 Considering the involvement of prodigies and divine manifestations, such a variation was arguably expected and intended to show Aeneas’s compliance with the divine will. Nonetheless, Dionysius’s character appears far from Virgil’s pius Aeneas. In the Aeneid, after receiving the prophecy of the fated sow from the god Tiberinus in his sleep, without delay Aeneas addresses prayers to the nymphs and the river god, and, after finding the sow, he immediately sacrifices her to Juno (8.68-85). There is no hesitation or perceptible uncertainty in his thoughts and actions, but rather confidence in divine providence and fervent devotion.147 In Dionysius’s account, upon discovering that the fated land was poor and distant from the sea, Aeneas is said to be in dismay and starts considering the most viable course to take:

...a great sense of uncertainty came upon Aeneas, as to whether in compliance with the oracle they ought to settle in that place, where they would forever spend a troubled life enjoying no good, or they ought to proceed further in search of a better land. While he was thinking over these things and holding the gods responsible they say that suddenly some voice from the glen came to him, etc.148

Eventually Aeneas obeys the instructions of the divine voice, after giving some thought to the episode: “Aeneas, having learnt this [namely, that he had to stay] and having determined that the business of the voice was something divine, did as the god commanded” (μαθόντα δὲ τὸν Αἰνείαν καὶ νομίσαντα δαιμόνιόν τι τὸ χρῆμα τῆς φωνῆς εἶναι ποιεῖν ὡς ὁ θεὸς ἐκέλευεν, 1.56.4). Dionysius did not fabricate the story of Aeneas’s troubled reaction: his perplexity is also

145 See comments in Alföldi 1965: 277-8, and Vanotti: 223-5. 146 Cf., e.g., the twofold reference to the Penates at RA 1.57.1. First, Dionysius relates that Aeneas sacrificed the fated sow to his country gods, specifying that in that spot there still stood a chapel—a holy place inaccessible to foreigners. Secondly, Aeneas is said to have placed the images of the gods in the best part of the hill before beginning the building of the new city. Dionysius later relates that during the building of Alba the Penates were transferred there from Lavinium, but on the next day the statues were miraculously found in their old seats again (1.67.1-3, see Appendix with n. 181; cf. Val. Max. 1.8.7; and OGR 17.2-3, citing Cincius Alimentus, L. Caesar, and Tubero; cf. Vanotti 1995: 210-2; on the relationship between Alba and Lavinium see Alföldi 1965: 236-46). 147 On Aeneas’s renewed confidence, cf. comments in Gransden 2003: 89-92. 148 RA 1.56.2-3: τῷ δὲ Αἰνείᾳ... πολλὴ παρίσταται ἀμηχανία, πότερα χρὴ τῷ θεσφάτῳ πειθομένους αὐτοῦ κατοικεῖν, ἔνθα λυπηρὸν εἰσαεὶ βίον τρίψουσιν οὐδενὸς χρηστοῦ ἀπολαύοντες, ἢ προσωτέρω χωρητέον ἐπὶ γῆς ἀμείνονος μάστευσιν. ταῦτα δὲ αὐτῷ διανοουμένῳ καὶ τοὺς θεοὺς ἔχοντι δι᾽ αἰτίας ἄφνω λέγεται φωνή τις ἐκ τῆς νάπης... προσπεσεῖν, etc.

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mentioned in Cato’s Origines (cited in OGR 12.5), where Aeneas is finally convinced to build Lavinium by the apparition of the Penates, and in the literary work of Q. Fabius Maximus Servilianus (cos. 142 BC).149 As for why Dionysius chose this version, the answer is of course speculative, but I suggest that the insertion of Aeneas’s doubts and reasoned acceptance adds to his ‘Greekness,’ as it appears more consistent with his previous description, where—in accordance with the Homeric portrait of Aeneas as Τρώων βουληφόρος—he is often showed in a deliberative light pondering the best course of action or the best choice for his people’s interest. b) Aeneas’s Encounter with Latinus: the Trojans as Greeks While Aeneas’s ‘Greekness’ so far has been recognizable in his moral qualities, but never openly stated as an ethnic characteristic, in the last part of his narrative Dionysius refers to his Greek background explicitly and persistently. He does this in two ways: 1) in the account of Aeneas’s meeting with King Latinus, he has both characters talk about the Trojans as actual Greeks; 2) almost as a way of explanation of these references, he provides a genealogical account of the origin of the Trojans and of Aeneas’s ancestry. The idea presented by Dionysius constitutes a novelty and a break from the Virgilian interpretation and current Roman views of the Trojans, although it finds some support in early traditions about the Greek ancestry of the Trojan progenitors Dardanus and Teucer. Thus, before discussing Dionysius’s account, it will be worth tracing a brief overview of how the perception of the Trojans changed among the Greeks and the Romans. As the insightful study of Andrew Erskine has underlined, this changed over time and from place to place. In the Homeric poems, there is no marked polarity between Trojans and Greeks, who are not even named as a single group (that is, “Hellenes”).150 Both sides receive equal treatment, with the perspective constantly shifting between the two. In the Iliad, the warriors of the Trojan and Achaean forces are related to each other through guest-friendship ties, as in the episode of Glaucus and Diomedes (Il. 6.120-236); they have similar customs in battle, their kingdoms have similar political structures, and they honour the same gods.151 Early vase paintings agree with Homer’s even

149 Cited in Serv. Aen. 1.3 = Peter F1 = Cornell F1. This Maximus might be the Φάβιος Μάξιμος cited at RA 1.7.3, as conjectured by Vanotti (1995: 210). 150 A point made in Thuc. 1.3; cf. Hall 1989: 7-8; Erskine 2001: 51-52. 151 Even though—unlike the Achaeans—in the Homeric poems some Trojans prove cowardly (e.g., Lycaon and Dolon, Il. 21.64-116, 10.454-6); in some instances, the Trojan army make very loud and undisciplined assaults (e.g., Il. 3.2-9, 4.433-6) and they are said to speak different languages (Il. 4.4.437-8)—elements which all are common marks of barbarianism. Also, the Trojan warriors die more often that the Greek ones, especially in single combat. Cf. Erskine 2001: 51-57 with detailed references; cf. also Hall 1989, esp. 19-47; Hall 2002: 117-8.

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depiction of Greek and Trojan heroes, with no notable differences in the representation of the respective armours.152 In Homer “none on the Trojan side is termed either barbaros or barbarophonos. This is later to be of crucial importance for the Greeks of Asia Minor, because they could look back to the Trojans as predecessors without compromising their own Greekness.”153 A notable transformation occurred in fifth-century BC Greek literature, in which the Trojans began to be depicted overtly as barbarians. According to an increasingly common conception, their defeat at the hands of the Greeks prefigured the outcome of the conflict against the Persians. Herodotus inserts the abduction of Helen by Priam’s son Paris within the series of old wrongdoings that gradually—but irremediably—opposed Greece and Asia (Hdt. 1.3), in this clearly viewing the Trojans not just as opponents of the Greeks but also as an alien race.154 The equation between Trojans and barbarians as well as the image of the Trojan War as forerunner of the Persian wars became popular topics, especially in contemporary Athenian drama.155 Here the Trojans are portrayed with all the stereotypes associated with Persians and non-Greeks in general, such as fondness of gold and wealth, flashy clothes, and a tyrannical form of government. To quote Erskine’s words again, the Trojan myth “became part of anti-Persian rhetoric, symbolizing the victory of Greek over non-Greek.”156 This model persisted in the following century, when Isocrates eulogized the Iliad because of its glorification of the fight against the ‘barbarians:’ “and [I think that] the reason why our ancestors wished to hold [Homer’s] art in honour in musical contests and in the education of the youth was that hearing his verses many times we can learn by heart the enmity that originally existed against them, etc.”157 Outside Athens the view of the Trojans as barbarians was less evident. On the contrary, several Greek towns (or even individual families) of

152 Cf. Erskine 2001: 57-60. 153 Erskine 2001: 52. 154 Cf. Boedeker 2002, esp. 108-16; also, Erskine 2001: 83-87. 155 See Hall 1989, esp. 13-47, 101-59, 211-23; cf. also Luraghi 2014, esp. 214-5, with discussion of previous scholarship about the aftermath of the Persian Wars in the Greek sources. 156 Erskine 2001: 77, cf. 73-77 with detailed examples and references from contemporary tragedy; and the assessment given at p. 87, which summarizes the whole conception in persuasive terms: “The Trojan War supplied a positive image for this contemporary conflict and a mythical authority for the continuing struggle against the barbarian. The myth with Trojans cast as barbarians was, therefore, particularly appropriate to Athenian circumstances. It gave a Panhellenic cloak to Athenian imperial aspirations.” See also Hall 2002, esp. 56-100, 177-8. 157 Isoc. Paneg. 159: [οἶμαι] καὶ διὰ τοῦτο βουληθῆναι τοὺς προγόνους ἡμῶν ἔντιμον αὐτοῦ ποιῆσαι τὴν τέχνην ἔν τε τοῖς τῆς μουσικῆς ἄθλοις καὶ τῇ παιδεύσει τῶν νεωτέρων, ἳνα πολλάκις ἀκούοντες τῶν ἐπῶν ἐκμανθάνωμεν τὴν ἔχθραν τὴν ὑπάρχουσαν πρὸς αὐτούς, etc. On the Trojans as barbarians cf. Evag. 17; Panath. 77, 80, 83; Helen 52, 67. See Erskine 2001: 51-57, 88-89.

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both Asia and mainland Greece incorporated Trojan characters into their foundation legends and claimed a Trojan ancestry.158 Likewise, cities in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy elaborated their foundation stories by “adapting and refashioning”159 legends of Trojan wanderers, according to the process by which Greek and non-Greek communities sought to establish ties of reciprocity through a shared mythical heritage.160 The Trojan foundation of Lavinium and Alba ought to be included in such a framework (as discussed in chap. 3.2.2). Early Roman writers had willingly accepted the idea of a Greek component in Rome’s “pedigree.”161 However, by choosing Aeneas, a Trojan progenitor, over a Greek one (such as, for example, Odysseus) the Romans had asserted their intention to distinguish themselves from the Greeks.162 Virgil presents a notion of Roman people as distinct from both Greeks and Trojans. The Aeneid famously concludes with Juno’s plea to Jupiter not to let the Latins change their name or alter their habits in favour of the Trojans, but in fact to make the Trojans renounce their name and identity and be incorporated into the Latin people (Aen. 12.819- 28).163 Galinsky has read Virgil’s proposition in the context of both Augustus’s victory over Antony and the ongoing assimilation of Greek culture at Rome. In an attempt to “de-asianize” Aeneas, the latter is given an Italian ancestor, Dardanus (Aen. 3.167-71, 7.209, 7.240-2, see below), and is divested of his “oriental” heritage. At the same time, he finds the support of a Greek man, Evander, whose people eventually unite with the Trojans and the Latins: “In the Aeneid, we see a process of both conversion and convergence among Greeks and Trojans, pointing to a future Italy and Rome that will unite them and the Latins. True enough, Jupiter issues the nationalistic prophecy that the sons of Troy will conquer Greece (Aen. 1.283-5). (…) In the Aeneid, it is the assimilation of the two nations that becomes a guiding theme.”164

158 Cf. examples in Erskine 2001: 93-127. 159 Gruen 2011: 244. 160 Cf. examples in Erskine 2001: 131-43. 161 Gruen 2011: 245; cf. also references at n. 56 above. 162 See, in particular, Gruen 1992: 30-31. 163 Cf. esp. 12.826-8: “let there be Latium, let there be Alban kings through the centuries, let there be Roman offspring mighty in Italian virtue: Troy has fallen, and allow that it has fallen with its name” (sit Latium, sint Albani per saecula reges, / sit Romana potens Itala virtute propago: / occidit, occideritque sinas cum nomine Troia). 164 Galinsky 2005: 346-7. Similarly, Gabba suggests that Virgil’s interpretation gives an aura of legitimacy to Aeneas’s arrival to Italy, observing, however, that it could also depend on Etruscan sources and traditions of the Etruscan nobility (Gabba 1991: 117; cf. Vanotti 1995: 218-9; Reed 2010: 66-79; on Evander cf. Momigliano 1984a: 457). Cf. also Clausen 2002: 217-8 on the kinship between Aeneas and Evander in Aen. 8.134-41.

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Dionysius must have been aware of the difficulty of endorsing his own account, which presented the Trojans as actual Greeks and essentially eliminated any differences between the former and their conquerors. Therefore—as mentioned above—he devises some narrative stratagems in order to lay out his argument convincingly. The demonstration that the Trojans are Greek is inserted in the text almost as a digression, where Dionysius relates the myth of Dardanus and his descendants (RA 1.61). The inclusion of a separate account to elucidate the Trojan genealogy is itself indicative of the singularity of Dionysius’s claim, which was evidently less than self-evident for his readers. The digression is preceded by a brief summary of the all-Greek ethnic components of the Latins: the Aborigines, who were originally Greeks from the Peloponnesus; the Pelasgians from Thessaly; the Arcadians that came from Pallantium with Evander; the Epeans and Pheneats who were part of the Peloponnesian army of Heracles; and lastly the Trojans with Aeneas (1.60.3).165 Through this summary, Dionysius remarks on the idea that the Trojans, just like the other groups, were Greek settlers, and subtly suggests that they ought to be conceived of no differently from the Arcadians or the Peloponnesians. The story of Dardanus reads as a standard mythological account, with Dardanus identified as the son of Zeus and Electra.166 In Dionysius’s version, Electra is said to be one of the daughters of Atlas, the first king of Arcadia (RA 1.61.1). The Aeneid’s commentator Servius specifies that there were three Atlases: unum Maurum ... alterum Italicum, patrem Electrae, unde natus est Dardanus; tertium Arcadicum, patrem Maiae, unde natus est Mercurius (Serv. Aen. 8.134). According to Servius, Electra’s father was the Italian one—as Virgil states in the Aeneid (Aen. 8.134-5). Here Dardanus is said in fact to have come from the Etruscan city of Corythus (hinc Dardanus ortus, Aen. 3.167, 3.169-71, 7.209, 7.240-2) and later migrated eastwards. The variant of the Arcadian provenance of Dardanus was transmitted by Varro, who made him a native of Pheneus (Serv. Aen. 3.167), and by Strabo (8.3.19, C 346). According to another tradition, preserved—among others—by Hellanicus, Dardanus’s mother Electra came from Samothrace (FGrH 4 F 23; cf. Lyc. Alex. 71-80; Diod. 5.48; Strab. 7 frag. 49; Apollod. 3.12.1-2).167 Dionysius not only chooses to support the version of the Arcadian (and thus Greek) origin of Dardanus but

165 On the summary of these migratory waves see Vanotti 1995: 227-31. 166 This is also the genealogy given by Hellanicus (FGrH 4 F 19a). 167 On Dardanus’s genealogy cf. Brillet-Dubois 2005: 55-60; Mora 1995: 151-2; Vanotti 1995: 231-8; on Hellanicus’s fragment see Pownall’s commentary at BNJ 4 F 23 = Scholia Argonautica 1.916. Also, note that in another passage Hellanicus states that Dardanus founded a city below Mount Ida called Dardania, and not Troy; cf. Pownall’s observations at BNJ 4 F 25a.

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gives the Trojans an entirely Greek genealogy. When he moved to the Troad from Arcadia after a deluge, Dardanus is said to have married a woman of Greek lineage, Bateia, with whom he started his kingdom on the land donated to him by King Teucer. Bateia was no less than the daughter of Teucer himself (cf. RA 1.62.1), who had come to Asia from the Attic deme of Xypete. Dionysius adduces as evidence for Teucer’s origin the testimony of the historian Phanodemus of Athens, who wrote about the ancient history of Attica (τὴν Ἀττικὴν γράψας ἀρχαιολογίαν, 1.61.5 = FGrH 325 F 13),168 adding—quite vaguely—that there were many proofs for Teucer’s presence at Xypete.169 The digression concludes with a note on Aeneas’s genealogy and descent from Dardanus, followed by Dionysius’s satisfied observation: “So I have shown that the Trojan race too was originally Greek” (ὡς μὲν δὴ καὶ τὸ Τρωικὸν γένος Ἑλληνικὸν ἀρχῆθεν ἦν δεδήλωταί μοι, 1.62.2).170 It is notable that, instead of preceding the introduction of the Trojans in the narrative, the excursus on their origin is inserted towards the end of it, appearing as a sort of validation for what has been related up to that point. The excursus indeed follows the account of the encounter between Aeneas and Latinus, with its insistent and idiosyncratic references to the Trojans as Greeks. Specifically, Dionysius states that when Latinus first confronted the Trojan army, he saw the combatants “equipped as Greeks” (ὡπλισμένους ὡς Ἕλληνας, RA 1.57.3) and was intimidated by that sight.171 As he temporarily withdrew to deliberate, he was visited by a local god who bid him

168 On Phanodemus’s fragment see the commentary of Nicholas F. Jones to BNJ 325 F 13 (2013) with earlier bibliographical references. Jones emphasizes the Athenocentric view expressed here by Phanodemus. 169 On Teucer cf. Strab. 13.1.48, C 604, who acknowledges both this version and that of his Cretan provenance (the latter is attested also in Verg. Aen. 3.104-5; cf. Serv. Aen. 1.38, 1.235, 3.95, 3.104, 3.108), and Diod. 4.75.1, who makes Teucer autochthonous. While travelling through Phrygia, Dardanus’s son Idaeus is said by Dionysius to have occupied the mountainous area later named after him, where he erected a temple to the Mother of the Gods and instituted her mysteries (RA 1.61.3-4). Dionysius here seems to acknowledge the Augustan emphasis on the Trojan cult of Cybele by placing her original cult site on Mount Ida. Cybele was widely worshipped in Asia; Livy indicates Pessinus in Phrygia as the cult site from where Cybele was imported to Rome in 205/4 BC in accordance with the prescriptions of the sibylline books (Liv. 29.10.5, 29.11.7). The origin of her Roman cult from Pessinus (or Phrygia) is attested by several sources, such as Cic. Har. Res. 27-28; Diod. 34.33.2; Strab. 12.5.3, C 567; Val. Max. 8.15.3; App. Hann. 56; Dio 57.61; vir. ill. 46; Amm. Marc. 22.9.5; cf. Varr. LL 6.15, who makes the cult of the Mater Magna come to Rome from Pergamum. Under Augustus her rites became closely associated with her cult site on Mount Ida, where part of the Aeneas legend was set (see, e.g., Verg. Aen. 9.77-106, 10.218-55; Ov. Fast. 4.249-64; cf. also Herod. 1.11; see Wiseman 1984: 117-28). On the cult of Cybele in Rome cf., in particular, Gruen 1990: 5- 33; Beard, North, and Price 1998: 96-98, 160, 197-8; Erskine 2001: 205-18; Orlin 2010, esp. 76-82. On Cybele in the Aeneid and Ara Pacis cf. Galinsky 1969: 224-7. 170 Dionysius does not mention his sources for this passage, but states that such a story was old and well-known (“it has been also related by certain others long ago,” εἴρηται μὲν καὶ ἄλλοις τισὶ πάλαι, RA 1.61.1). On Aeneas’s genealogy cf. Martin 1989: 113-42; Vanotti 1995: 238-40. 171 Cf. Virgil’s characterization of the Trojan weapons as specifically Trojan (Troia arma) in Aen. 3.306-7, 3.596-8, 6.490-1—a difference between the two accounts brought up by Hill (1961: 93; cf. Vanotti 1995: 216) and interpreted by him as an intentional anti-Virgilian polemic on Dionysius’s part. Dionysius’s account is echoed in OGR 13.1, in which Latinus, noting that the Trojans were drawn up in military fashion (Troianos militariter

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welcome “the Greeks” (τοὺς Ἕλληνας) to his land. Aeneas, in turn, saw a vision in his sleep of the Penates, who encouraged him to persuade Latinus to give them a settlement and “to treat the Greek force as allies rather than different people” (χρήσασθαι δυνάμει Ἑλληνικῇ συμμάχῳ μᾶλλον ἢ διαφόρῳ, 1.57.4).172 The Greekness of the Trojans is thus the factor that determines the positive outcome of this first encounter, for it inspires sympathy for the strangers in Latinus. The appearance of divine powers in the dreams of the two leaders, revolving around the idea that ‘the Greeks’ will be a valuable addition to the Aborigines, anticipates the subsequent union of the two peoples. Next, when Latinus and Aeneas finally meet for a discussion, Aeneas defines themselves as Trojans and Troy as a Greek city: “We are Trojan by race, and we come from a city which is not the most obscure among the Greeks; since this was taken and conquered by the Achaeans in a ten-year war, etc.” (ἡμεῖς γένος μὲν Τρῶές ἐσμεν, πόλεως δὲ οὐ τῆς ἀφανεστάτης ἐν Ἕλλησιν ἐγενόμεθα· ἣν ἀφαιρεθέντες ὑπ᾽ Ἀχαιῶν δεκαετεῖ πολέμῳ χειρωθεῖσαν, etc., 1.58.2). It is interesting to note that Troy is said here to have been sacked by the Achaeans specifically (Ἀχαιοί), and not by the Greeks in general (Ἕλληνες).173 Aeneas, then, draws a distinction between his people, who are γένος Τρῶές, and the Achaeans who made war upon them, but at the same time affirms that they were both Hellenes. In response, Latinus likewise declares his goodwill towards the entire Greek race (ἀλλ᾽ ἔγωγε εὔνοιάν τε πρὸς ἅπαν τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν γένος ἔχω, 1.58.5). The admittance of the Trojans among the Aborigines is then described by Dionysius as a consequence of Latinus’s fondness for the Greek people. Through the repeated references to the Trojans as Greeks Dionysius not only stresses the Greek origin of the Romans’ ancestors, but he also shows how the Latins first came together thanks to their common Greek background. The Greekness of the Trojans is therefore indicated as the key to their initial success and integration into Latium. There is another important element linked to the meeting of Aeneas and Latinus. Traditionally, Aeneas and his people were believed to have landed in a territory inhabited by pre- existing groups, identified as Aborigines, with whom they eventually merged. In most extant instructos), asks for a meeting with their leader; there is no emphasis here on the Hellenic character of the Trojans, but rather on the contrast between their sophistication and the savage aspect of the Aborigines. 172 Cf. Zon. 7.1, who mentions both dreams; and Strab. 5.3.2, C 229, who relates, like Dionysius, that Latinus used the Trojans to fight the Rutuli. Cf. Verg. Aen. 7.37-106, where Latinus consults the oracle of Faunus about the marriage of Lavinia, and the oracle prophesizes the arrival of a foreign army and their future alliance. 173 I thank Christopher Mackay for bringing this detail to my attention. Frances Pownall has suggested that the mention of the Acheans could also just be a Homeric echo. However, Dionysius’s careful use and distinction of the three terms (Trojans, Achaeans, and Hellenes) in the same contest points to a deliberate narrative choice on his part, intended to retain the traditional enmity between Trojans and Achaeans and, at the same time, blur the ethnic differences between them—with both being in fact Hellenes.

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sources, their encounter is described as a difficult one that breaks into a violent conflict. Livy relates a twofold tradition about the outbreak of this conflict.174 In each case, Aeneas is said to have plundered Latinus’s territory (cum praedam ex agris agerent), provoking the reaction of the Aborigines. In one version, the two armies fight a battle and reconcile after Latinus’s defeat. In the other version, Latinus learns Aeneas’s troubled story before the battle and decides to give him hospitality (Liv. 1.1.5-9).175 In Dionysius’s account, the initial animosity between Trojans and Aborigines, which was caused by Aeneas’s raids on Latinus’s territories (RA 1.57.1), is amicably resolved through discussion. The episode is structured through a sequence of detailed (though short) speeches, in which the two leaders clarify their issue, dispel the threat of a war between their peoples, and stipulate the terms of a lasting agreement.176 In other words, their encounter represents the first instance, in the Roman Antiquities, of a conflict being settled by debate instead of battle, a practice that Dionysius often ascribes to the Romans in the course of his history. Dionysius frequently praises the Romans for maintaining unity and harmony among themselves and resolving internal dissension (στάσις) peacefully. Accordingly, he attributes a crucial function to the report of speeches in instances of sedition, as speeches were the verbal means by which the Romans put an end to strife and effected changes in their government.177 This theme is especially prominent in his account of Romulus’s constitution, which laid the foundation for civil concord, and bears a

174 Cf. the later account about the war between Latins and Etruscans: Dionysius relates that the Tyrrhenians’ king Mezentius was troubled by the growth of “the Greek power” (τὴν Ἑλληνικὴν δύναμιν, 1.64.4). On Mezentius as king of the Tyrrhenians (specifically, of Caere) cf. Liv. 1.2.3; Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232; cf. Verg. Aen. 7.647-8, 8.478-82, and OGR 14.1, where Mezentius is said to be the king of the Agillei from Etruria. 175 On Livy’s text cf. Ogilvie 1965: 38; Miles 1995: 29-31, 64-65; Vanotti 1995: 214-5. The first version is attested also in Serv. Aen. 4.620 (citing Cato Orig. Peter F10 = Cornell F7: cum Aeneae socii praedas agerent, proelium commissum, in quo Latinus occisus est, etc.); Zon. 7.1; Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232. On the second version cf. Just. 43.1.10. Virgil’s account is substantially different, as he relates that the motive of the enmity was Lavinia’s betrothal to Aeneas instead of Turnus (Aen. 7.96-470), whereas the casus belli was Ascanius’s killing of the stag dear to Tyrrhus with the consequent fight between their men (7.480-502). 176 On the use of speeches during this meeting cf. Vanotti 1995: 219, and Schultze 2012: 119-20. I have formulated my point independently. Cf. Liv. 1.1.7-9, who reports that Latinus interrogated Aeneas about his provenance and the reasons of his journey: “who these people were, from where and by which reason they departed from their home and seeking what they had come to the Laurentine territory” (qui mortales essent, unde aut quo casu profecti domo quidve quaerentes in agrum Laurentinum exissent). A similar version is attested in OGR 13.2-3: qui essent quidve peterent; and Verg. Aen. 7.197-8: “What are you seeking? Which reason or what need carried your ships to the Ausonian shore through so many blue streams?” (quid petitis? quae causa rates aut cuius egentis litus ad Ausonium tot per uada caerula uexit?); cf. comments in Ogilvie 1965: 38; Vanotti 1995: 217-9. 177 As Dionysius explains in a programmatic passage at the end of the story of Coriolanus’s trial (RA 7.66.3-5). The story of Coriolanus is paradigmatic of Dionysius’s notion of civil strife and its peaceful resolution; cf. Noè 1979: 21- 116. The use of speeches in the Roman Antiquities has been analyzed in Hogg 2008 (PhD diss.); cf. Gozzoli 1976: 168-73; Noè 1979: 37-40, 81; Thompson 1979: 303-10; Schultze 1986: 127-8, 131-2; Gabba 1991: 69-73, 80-81; Fromentin 2010: 261-77; Pelling 2016: 168.

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strongly didactic purpose in Dionysius’s project. In the Greek cities, civil dissension had long constituted an endemic evil; the Romans’ resolution of their στάσεις without resort to arms is thus to be regarded as exemplary (see detailed discussion at chap. 4.2.2). The episode in question comprises three speeches, the first and the last of which are given by Latinus, while the second one (also the longest) is given by Aeneas. In the first speech, which is reported indirectly, Latinus complains about Aeneas’s behaviour, since he pillaged his lands when he could have obtained the goods that he carried off simply by asking for them. Latinus claims that Aeneas had acted contrary to “the universal sense of justice” (ἡ ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων δικαίωσις) and with much dishonour to himself (RA 1.58.1). Aeneas’s reply is reported in direct discourse. After giving some basic details about himself and his fortunes, the Trojan leader admits to his misconduct, but he justifies himself and his men by remarking on the extraordinary nature of their situation and offers to make restitution for Latinus’s losses through military service (1.58.2-3). In addition, Aeneas stresses the unintentional nature of their actions (“everything involuntary deserves pardon,” ἅπαν δὲ σύγγνωμον τὸ ἀκούσιον, 1.58.3) and insists on their dire circumstances (“we did these things forced by necessity,” ὑπ᾽ ἀνάγκης ταῦτα βιασθέντες ἐποιοῦμεν, 1.58.3; and “[the things] we do under the compulsion of necessity,” ἠναγκασμένοι δρῶμεν, 1.58.4). In closing his plea, Aeneas blackmails Latinus into forgiving them, threatening that he would otherwise ask the gods for forgiveness and attack him (1.58.4). Latinus’s answer is also reported directly: he proclaims his compassion and benevolence towards the Greek race and asks the newcomers to settle in his land and exchange pledges for their peaceful and fruitful coexistence (1.58.5, above). The meeting ends with the conclusion of a formal treaty, later ratified through the marriage of Aeneas and Latinus’s daughter, Lavinia, whose example encourages others to unite in intermarriage (1.59.1-3, 1.60.1).178 Trojans and Aborigines, now officially one people, call themselves by the common name of Latins (1.60.2).179

178 On the terms of the treaty cf. Serv. Aen. 11.316 (citing Cato Orig. Peter F8 = Cornell F4); OGR 12.4; App. Reg. 1.1; cf. Verg. Aen. 7.260-2; Zon. 7.1. On Aeneas’s marriage with Lavinia cf. Cat. Orig. Peter F11 = Cornell F8; Liv. 1.1.9-10; App. Reg. 1.1; OGR 12.4; Zon. 7.1; Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232; cf. also Verg. Aen. 7.208-9. About the identity of Lavinia, from which the name of Lavinium derived, Dionysius reports two traditions: according to the Romans Lavinia would have been Latinus’s daughter; but according to some Greek mythographers Lavinium would have been named after the daughter of King Anius of the Delians, who was given to Aeneas as a prophetess in his journey and died of illness during the building of the city (RA 1.59.3). On these etymologies cf. App. Reg. 1.1; Just. 43.1.12; OGR 9.5. 179 On the fusion of the two nations and their change of name cf. RA 1.9.4, 1.45.2; Liv. 1.2.4-5, who places this change after Latinus’s death; OGR 13.7, in which the fusion takes place after the final battle against the Rutuli; cf. also App., Reg. 1.1; and Zon. 7.1. Cf. Verg. Aen. 12.821-40: here ‘Latins’ is already the name of Latinus’s people,

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Through his account of this meeting, then, Dionysius achieves the meaningful result of showing that the Romans’ ancestors grounded their rule in Latium on some fundamental values. The previous account had already highlighted the military valour, wisdom, and piety of the Trojan leader. To these qualities Dionysius now adds: sense of justice, which emerges from Latinus’s preoccupations with Aeneas’s alleged misbehaviour, Aeneas’s intention to wage (just) war if he does not receive due forgiveness and from the fair conditions of their final agreement; and, above all, the aptitude for dialogue with a view to communal harmony.

Appendix: The Penates of Lavinium

Dionysius’s narrative of Aeneas’s deeds ends with the death of the hero in a furious battle between the Latins and the Tyrrhenians led by Mezentius. Aeneas’s body was nowhere to be found, but he received a hero shrine and honours (RA 1.64.4-5).180 Despite its conclusion, Aeneas’s story is taken up again later in the account, where Dionysius returns to a fundamental theme linked to it: the origin of the cult of the Penates. In describing the building of Alba Longa, the colony founded by Aeneas’s son Ascanius, Dionysius relates a prodigy involving the images of these gods, which gives him a reason for a digression on the provenance and nature of their worship.181 In order to

and it is Juno who asks Jupiter not to make the Latins change it upon their fusion with the Trojans (ne nomen mutare Latinos, etc., 8.823); accordingly, Aeneas gives up his right as victor to impose his name and customs on the defeated, and chooses instead “to reconcile the Latins to his rule by taking their name” (Ando 2002: 139, cf. 139- 40). Cf. also. Aen. 8.322-3, in which the Arcadian King Evander explains the etymology of the name Latium from latere (to hide), since Saturn used to hide in those shores (cf. Gransden 2003: 125). 180 Aeneas was possibly worshipped as Aeneas Indiges after death (also referred to as Pater Indiges or Jupiter Indiges), on whose cult cf. Cass. Hem. Peter F7 = Cornell F8 = Sol. 2.14; Liv. 1.2.6; Verg. Aen. 12.794-5; Ov. Met. 14.581-608; Fest. 94 L; Pliny NH 3.56; Serv. Aen. 1.259, 12.794; ORG 14.4; Arnob. 1.36; cf. Alföldi 1965: 252-7; Palmer 1974: 120-5. Alföldi (ibid, 253) notes the parallel between the death of Aeneas and that of Romulus (on which see chap. 4.1.1 n. 6-7), stressing that this pattern of death and apotheosis “belongs in the broad frame of a prehistoric religious concept” diffused among many early societies. On Aeneas’s disappearance or apotheosis cf. Cat. Orig. (Peter F10 = Cornell F7= Serv. Aen. 3.620); Diod. 7.5.2; Ov. ibid; Tibull. 2.5.43-4; Serv. Aen. 4.620, 12.794; Fest. 94 L; Zon. 7.1; OGR 14.2-4. On Aeneas’s death in the river cf. Cass. Hem., ibid; Serv. Aen. 1. 259, 4.620, 7.150, 12.794; OGR 14.3. Cf. Liv. 1.2.6; App. Reg. 1.1; and Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232, where Aeneas is said to have been killed in battle. The location of Aeneas’s tomb on the bank of the Numic(i)us is attested also in Liv. 1.2.6. On Aeneas’s heroon cf. references at n. 136; also, Vanotti 1995: 258-63. Aeneas’s death and assumption to the gods as Pater Indiges would parallel Latinus’s death and transformation into Jupiter Latiaris (on which cf. Fest. 212 L; Galinsky 1969: 162-5). On the cults of Alba and Lavinium see Orlin 2010: 45-56. 181 According to this story, the statues of the Penates had been transferred to the new city of Alba while the city was under construction, but they miraculously returned to their sanctuary in Lavinium on the day after their move. The prodigy occurred a second time, and as a consequence the colonists of Alba deliberated to preserve the images of the gods in Lavinium and sent back there three hundred men, who could look after their worship (RA 1.67.1-2). On this anecdote see also Val. Max. 1.8.7; OGR 17.2-3; cf. Alföldi 1965: 248-9; Galinsky 1969: 144.

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explain these gods to the Greeks, Dionysius first reports the several names under which the Penates appeared in the Greek authors: “The Romans call these gods Penates; of those who translate their name into the Greek language, some render it as ‘Gods of the country,’ others as ‘Tutelary Gods,’ and some ‘Protectors of the house,’ others ‘Inwards Gods,’ and others ‘Household Gods’.”182 Next, Dionysius discusses the gods’ appearance. While this detail may appear as a superfluous addition to the account—a learned report of antiquarian interest—an attentive reading of it reveals quite a different purpose on Dionysius’s part. In the relevant text, Dionysius reports what Timaeus had written about the Trojan sacra. Timaeus, Dionysius claims, had learned from local sources that the sacred objects preserved in Lavinium’s sanctuary—which Dionysius understands as the Penates—were “iron and bronze caducei and Trojan pottery” (κηρύκια σιδηρᾶ καὶ χαλκᾶ καὶ κέραμον Τρωικὸν, RA 1.67.4 = FGrH 566 F 59).183 Dionysius does not explicitly reject Timaeus’s story, but criticizes him bitterly because he improperly investigated and passed on matters which it was unlawful to speak about (ibid)—presumably, because of their sacral character. Dionysius’s harsh reaction may be motivated by the prescription, reported earlier in the narrative, according to which the sanctuary of the Penates at Lavinium was inaccessible to all but the Lavinians themselves (1.57.1). This restriction may have implied some kind of taboo or a character of secrecy associated with the objects in the sanctuary, thus justifying Dionysius’s indignation at Timaeus’s disclosure. To Timaeus’s indiscretion Dionysius in fact opposes his own religious respect, relating that he learned by autopsy about the appearance of the Penates, whose statues at Rome were preserved in public view in the temple on the Velia. This assertion, of course, makes it clear that Dionysius identified the sacra of Lavinium with the Penates in Rome. The statuettes in question, we are told, had the form of two seated youths holding a spear and were accompanied by an inscription.184 Such

182 RA 1.67.3: τοὺς δὲ θεοὺς τούτους Ῥωμαῖοι μὲν Πενάτας καλοῦσιν· οἱ δ᾽ ἐξερμηνεύοντες εἰς τὴν Ἑλλάδα γλῶσσαν τοὔνομα οἱ μὲν Πατρῴους ἀποφαίνουσιν, οἱ δὲ Γενεθλίους, εἰσὶ δ᾽ οἳ Κτησίους, ἄλλοι δὲ Μυχίους, οἱ δὲ Ἑρκείους. 183 Cf. Erskine 2001: 144; Baron 2013: 47. Cf. Varro in Serv. Aen. 1.348, who describes these objects as lignea vel lapidea sigilla (cf. Gabba 1984a: 866-7). Timaeus’s statements may not be unfounded, as archeological findings in the last half century have uncovered the presence of fourth and third century BC bronze caducei (in most cases, inscribed in Greeks) in several sites in Southern Italy and Sicily. According to a hypothesis recently formulated, the presence of these objects in non-Greek settlements could manifest local aspirations to appear as Greek communities (or on their same level) and interact with the Greeks showing some common cultural background (see Gualtieri 2011: 99-112). It would be tempting, then, to interpret Timaeus’s testimony as a sign of contemporary Greek influences on Lavinium. 184 On the temple on the Velia cf. Varr. LL 5.54; Liv. 45.16.5. Serv. Aen. 3.12 (citing Varro) writes that the inscription on the base said magnis diis, and that the statues were those of Castor and Pollux; cf. Cass. Hem. Peter

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images, according to Dionysius, were those of the Great Gods of Samothrace, which, together with the Palladium, had been brought as a dowry to Dardanus by his first wife Chryse—who in turn had received them as a gift from Athena. Then, as Dionysius relates, during their flight from Arcadia to the Troad Dardanus and his people stopped in Samothrace, where Dardanus built a temple to the Great Gods and instructed those he left there in their mysteries, but he took the images of the gods and the Palladium with him (RA 1.68). These objects were first kept in the city of Dardanus, then in Troy, and finally were brought to Lavinium by Aeneas (1.69.1-2). From this account we may infer that Dionysius was not attempting to disprove Timaeus’s report on religious grounds, alleging that what Timaeus wrote about the Penates ought not to be known or investigated. Dionysius’s purpose was rather to demonstrate that the Penates were Greek gods, and specifically the Great Gods of Samothrace and the Dioscuri.185 I mentioned earlier (chap. 3.3.1) that, quite interestingly, Dionysius refers twice to Aeneas’s rescue of the Penates (RA 1.46.4, 1.47.6), even though this detail was possibly absent from Hellanicus’s version of Aeneas’s escape from Troy. Besides this twofold reference, Dionysius repeatedly mentions Aeneas’s reverence of these gods (cf. RA 1.55.5, 1.56.5, 1.57.1). The emphasis that Dionysius lays upon the cult of the Penates may reflect the contemporary attention paid to it, but this does not imply passive influence or some ‘propagandistic’ intention on Dionysius’s part. Instead, the references to Aeneas’s rescue of the Penates should be read alongside the digression on their appearance and provenance as a demonstration that one of the most ancient Roman cults was actually Greek. At the same time, these references, together with those about Aeneas’s reverence, were also a means to underline the εὐσέβεια of the hero.

Conclusions

Dionysius’s story of Aeneas ought to be read within the framework of his account on the formation of the Latin ethnos, which occupies almost the entirety of Book One of the Roman Antiquities. The demonstration that the Trojans were Greeks and brought with them, as a hallmark of their

F6 = Cornell F7 = Serv. Aen. 1.378 = Macr. Sat. 3.4.9; Varro in Macr. Sat. 3.4.7. In Rome there were two cult places of the Penates, the temple on the Velia and the temple of Vesta. On the identification of the Penates with the Dioscuri cf. Alföldi 1965: 258-65; Galinsky 1969: 154-61. 185 On this hypothesis see also Gabba 1984a: 867-70, who observes that Dionysius needed to show that the gods of the Romans were anthropomorphous in order to uphold the idea of their Greek origins.

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Greekness, specific moral and civic values was vital to Dionysius’s project of showing that the Romans were of Greek origin and had lived, since the very beginning, in accordance with the most desirable Greek principles. In the first part of his narrative about Aeneas, Dionysius consciously chooses to support a version of the legend (that of Hellanicus) which emphasized the Homeric legacy in the construction of Aeneas’s figure and which was more readily identifiable for his (Greek) readers—Aeneas being presented as a character of the Hellenic cultural tradition. At the same time, this version could highlight some important qualities of Aeneas—such as his military prowess, his wisdom, his reverence towards the gods, and his sense of justice—which Dionysius wanted to show as lying at the foundation of the Roman empire. While these qualities are explicitly mentioned in their civic function only later, in the account of Romulus’s constitution, in this way Dionysius suggests that there had been continuity in their practice even before Romulus’s kingdom. Among the virtues mentioned or alluded to here, Dionysius includes a key element in Roman future success: the ability to resolve internal dissension through discussion as opposed to arms. Dionysius in fact exploits one version of the account of the meeting between Latinus and Aeneas to show how civic harmony was already an essential component in pre-Roman Latium, immediately becoming a crucial aspect of the governance of the Romans’ forebears. In order to prove the ‘actual’ descent of the Roman race from Aeneas, in the section describing Aeneas’s journey Dionysius takes great pains to prove that Aeneas landed (and died) in Italy. The existence of many variants on his travel made such efforts necessary. On the other hand, Dionysius’s determination in stressing Aeneas’s arrival and rule in Italy seems to indicate that in the Greek world the story of the Trojan origin of Rome was not broadly accepted (or perhaps, simply neglected). In this sense, Dionysius’s account may be a valuable testimony of the limited diffusion outside Italy of Augustan ideas about the Trojan heritage of Rome. Besides demonstrating that Aeneas arrived and ruled in Italy, Dionysius shows in the account of Aeneas’s early deeds in Latium that Roman rule was fated and inevitable, since its advent had been clearly and continually foretold by divine powers. The Italian and Roman tradition about the foundation of Lavinium and Alba is freely elaborated here to achieve this aim. In this section, Dionysius also undertakes the demonstration of the central point of his whole narrative about Aeneas, and namely, the Greek ethnicity of the Trojans—which is ultimately proof of the Greek origin of the Romans. To this end, Dionysius does not limit himself to showing that Aeneas and his people had a Greek ancestry through the digression on their mythical progenitor Dardanus and his descendants. By

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insistently calling the Trojans ‘Hellenes’ and Troy a Hellenic city Dionysius implies that the Trojans’ Greekness was—as it were—real and present, and not merely an ancestral reminiscence. Lastly, the insertion of the Penates into Dionysius’s account is an interesting case of ‘appropriation’ of a contemporary relevant topic to pursue his own agenda. Dionysius uses the frequent references to Aeneas’s worship of these gods (which is paralleled by Virgil’s account) to show Aeneas’s εὐσέβεια—one of the key qualities of a good government—as well as the Greek origin of the Roman religion. Dionysius was sufficiently aware of current ideas about the Trojan origins of Rome and, most likely, of the association between Aeneas and Augustus. His version of Aeneas’s story, however, should not be interpreted as a pro-Augustan political stance, aimed at the diffusion of Augustan ideas; rather, his glorification of Rome served to facilitate the acceptance of Rome’s Greek origin and ultimately its rule on the Greeks’ part.

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Table to Chapter 3.3.2: Aeneas’s Sea Travels from Troy to Laurentum

Places visited by Aeneas: People dead: Memorials left: Pallene in Thrace (1.49.4) A temple of Aphrodite; a city called ‘Aineia’186 Delos (1.50.1) Numerous unspecified pieces of evidence Cythera (1.50.1) A temple of Aphrodite Cinaethus (1.50.2) A promontory renamed ‘Cinaethion’ (cf. Paus. 3.22.10) Arcadia (1.50.3) A Trojan settlement Zakynthos (1.50.3) A temple of Aphrodite with a still existing sacrifice; the athletic race ‘of Aeneas and Aphrodite’187 Leucas (1.50.4) A temple of Aphrodite Aineias188 Actium (1.50.4) A temple of Aphrodite Aineias; a temple of the Great Gods Ambracia (1.50.4) A temple of Aphrodite Aineias; a hero shrine of Aeneas Dodona (1.51.1) Numerous gifts to the oracle (some still visible and inscribed)189 Buthrotum (Anchises only; A hill renamed ‘Troy’; a harbour renamed ‘Harbour of 1.51.2) Anchises’; a temple of Aphrodite Salentine Promontory in A promontory renamed ‘Harbour of Aphrodite’; an inscribed Aplulia (1.51.3) bronze patera in a temple of Juno along the coast Drepana in Sicily (1.52- Cities called ‘Aegesta’ and ‘Elyma’; an altar of Aphrodite 53.1) Aineias on Mount Elymus; a temple of Aeneas in Aegesta190 Palinurus (1.53.2) A harbour renamed ‘Palinurus’ Leucosia (1.53.2) An island renamed ‘Leucosia’ Misenus (1.53.3) A harbour renamed ‘Misenus’ Prochyta (1.53.3) An island renamed ‘Prochyta’ Caieta (1.53.3) A promontory renamed ‘Caieta’191 Laurentum (1.53.3) A site called ‘Troy’192

186 The stop in Thrace appears in the above-mentioned accounts ascribed to Hellanicus (FGrH 4 F 31) and Cephalon of Gergis (FGrH 45 F 7), and moreover in Lyc. Alex. 1236-7, and Verg. Aen. 3.13-18. On the foundation of Aineia cf. Vanotti 1995: 149-52; Erskine 2001: 93-98. 187 The homonymous founder of Zakynthos was believed to be a son of Dardanus, hence the alleged kinship of Zakynthiots and Trojans (cf. Paus. 8.24.3; Vanotti 1995: 155-6; Erskine 2001: 123-4). On the games celebrated by Aeneas cf. Verg. Aen. 3.278-293: in Virgil’s account the games occurred instead on the shore of Actium. In his comment, Servius suggests that Virgil set the performance of the games in Actium as a precedent for the ludi Actiaci instituted by Augustus in honour of Apollo to celebrate his victory over Antony and Cleopatra (Serv. Aen. 3.274). 188 On Aeneas’s erection of this temple in Leucas cf. Serv. Aen. 3.279, who attributes this information to Varro. On Aphrodite Aineias’s cult cf. Galinsky 1969: 66-70; Vanotti 1995: 156-7. Leucas is described in Strab. 10.2.8-9. 189 The story is conceivably a device of Herodotean inspiration intended to corroborate Dionysius’s account; it is reminiscent of Herodotus’s description of the offerings made by Gyges and especially by Croesus to the oracle of Delphi, with his claims that those gifts were still standing and visible at his time (Hdt. 1.14, 1.50-51). 190 On the origin of the Elymians cf. RA 1.22.3 = FGrH 4 F 79b, where Dionysius quotes Hellanicus’s theory that the Elymians descended from the Sicels. On the Trojan foundation of Elyma and Segesta cf. Thuc. 6.2.3; Lyc. Alex. 951-77; Cic. Verr. 2.4.72; Strab. 13.1.53, C 608; Plut. Nic. 1.3; Fest. 458 L; also, Verg. Aen. 1.549-50. On this tradition cf. Galinsky 1969: 77-102; Mora 1995: 144-5; Vanotti 1995: 171-7, 2011: 317-47; Erskine 2001: 178-83. 191 Palinurus’s death appears also in Verg. Aen. 5.835-60. Leucosia is mentioned in Solin. 2.13 (along with the other toponyms) and Fest. 102 L as Aeneas’s consobrina; in a different tradition Leucosia was one the sirens (cf. Lyc. Alex. 722-5; Strab. 6.1.1, C 252; Pliny NH 3.85). On Misenus’s death cf. Verg. Aen. 6.156-86; OGR 9.6. Prochyta is described in Serv. Aen. 9.712 (citing Naevius’s Bellum Punicum) as a cognata of Aeneas. Caieta was Aeneas’s nurse (cf. Verg. Aen. 7.1-5 and Serv. Aen. 7.1). For a discussion on these toponyms, see Vanotti 1995: 181-6. 192 The Trojan landing in Laurentum also occurs in Liv. 1.1.4; App. Reg. 1.1 (from Photius); Dio in Zon. 7.1, Tzetzes in Lyc. Alex. 1232; Solin. 2.14 (citing Cass. Hem. Peter F7 = Cornell F8); Virgil places it at the mouth the Tiber, on the site of the future Lavinium (Lavinaque venit litora, Aen. 1.2-3; cf. 7.29-31); cf. Vanotti 1995: 186-91.

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Fig. 1 — Denarius of C. Julius Caesar, 48 BC. Head of Venus. Rev.: nude figure of Aeneas carrying Anchises on the left shoulder and the Palladium in his right hand. Legend: CAESAR (RRC 458/1). http://www.britishmuseum.org/join_in/using_digital_images/using_digital_images.aspx?asset_id=623929001&obje ctId=1146304&partId=1

Fig. 2 — Denarius of M. Herennius, 108/7 BC. Head of Pietas wearing diadem. Legend: PIETAS. Rev.: One of the Catanaean brothers running bearing his father on his left shoulder. Legend: M. HERENNI (RRC 308/1). http://www.britishmuseum.org/join_in/using_digital_images/using_digital_images.aspx?asset_id=618808001&obje ctId=1155061&partId=1

Fig. 3 — Aureus of L. Livineius Regulus, 42 BC. Head of the triumvir Octavian. Legend: C. CAESAR IIIVIR RPC. Rev.: Aeneas carrying Anchises on his left shoulder. Legend: L. REGULUS IIIVIR APF (RRC 494/3b). http://www.britishmuseum.org/join_in/using_digital_images/using_digital_images.aspx?asset_id=624417001&obje ctId=1396599&partId=1

These images have been ordered from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service.

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Fig. 4 — Altar of the Gens Augusta from Carthage (above, http://kiisitalywinter.wikifoundry.com/photo/15261113/Aeneas'+departure+fr+Troy,+fr+altar+called+the+Gens+Au gusta,+erected+by+the+freedman+Hedulus+in+Carthage,+ca+14+CE), and Medinaceli relief (detail; my picture).

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Fig. 5 — Detail of Aeneas’s sacrifice: from the left, Ara Pacis Augustae (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Ara_Pacis_relieve_11.JPG), and Belvedere Altar (after Buxton 2014: 92).

Fig. 6 — Aeneas leads Anchises from Troy; drawing after a Parthenon metope. http://ancientrome.ru/art/artworken/img.htm?id=815

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CHAPTER 4 Romulus and Numa Pompilius: The Ideological Foundations of the Roman Empire

The subject of this chapter will be the presentation, in the Roman Antiquities, of the first two kings of Rome, Romulus and Numa Pompilius. The story of Romulus’s reign occupies a large portion of Dionysius’s work (RA 2.3-56). It is preceded by the narrative of Romulus’s early life and deeds (1.79-88) and is almost equally divided into the descriptions of his administrative and constitutional measures (2.7-30) and of the wars that he waged against Rome’s neighbours (2.31- 55). While the figure of Romulus as a lawgiver was not unknown to the Roman tradition, more emphasis was generally placed on his military achievements. In Dionysius’s history, Romulus’s constitutional activity is paramount and has a crucial ideological significance in the overall construction of Rome’s past. The account of Numa’s kingdom is notably shorter than that of his predecessor, occupying ‘merely’ nineteen chapters of Dionysius’s work (2.58-76). Yet, its content is especially valuable—as we shall see—for assessing Dionysius’s ideas about the Roman constitution and, in particular, the continuity between the first two kings’ governments. The figures of Romulus and Numa bore antithetic and complementary traits in the Roman conception of them. After founding the city, Romulus spent most of his time conducting military campaigns, which resulted in a considerable extension of Roman territory in Latium. By contrast, Numa was commonly remembered for establishing lasting peace and directing the citizens’ attention towards religion. Such aspects, combined together, were conceived of as laying the foundation of Roman power, as significantly expressed in Livy’s words: “In this way the two kings enlarged the nation one after the other, each one in a different manner, the former through war, the latter through peace... The city was at that time strong, being guided by the arts of both war and peace.”1 This motif appears to have received fresh emphasis under Augustus, who merged in his persona the key features of the first two kings’ rules. According to the notions expressed in the Res gestae, Augustus waged his wars to guarantee peace for the country and, likewise, he explicitly defines peace as a military achievement, or parta victoriis pax (“peace acquired through victories,”

1 Liv. 1.21.6: ita duo deinceps reges, alius alia via, ille bello, hic pace, civitatem auxerunt … cum valida tum temperata et belli et pacis artibus erat civitas. Cf. the almost identical statement preserved in Dio, fr. 1.6.6. On this contrast in Livy, see discussion in Levene 1993: 129-37.

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RG 13).2 Furthermore, Augustus was able to link his achievements with the first two kings not only through his deeds, which ensured world domination and empire-wide peace, but also through his lineage: the Julian and the Marcian families, which Augustus joined through Caesar’s adoption, were allegedly descended from Romulus and Numa (cf. chaps. 3.2.3 and 4.1.2). The analysis of Dionysius’s narrative of the first two kings’ rule will produce important results. First, his extensive treatment of Romulus’s constitutional measures is essential to understanding Dionysius’s political conceptions and answering important questions such as what the foundations of the Roman state were in his view; which institutions allowed the Romans to prosper over time; and how they emulated and surpassed the Greeks in political and civic matters. Second, as will emerge from this study, in spite of the traditional contrast between the figures of Romulus and Numa, Dionysius’s account underscores the continuity of their policies in the attempt to show his readers the quick progression and adaptability of the Roman constitution. Third, some of the concepts presented in Dionysius’s account (such as his emphasis, in the account of both kingdoms, on the notion of ‘just war’) appear to have been influenced by contemporary ideas. As this analysis will show, Dionysius provides a distinctive interpretation of them, using them to enrich his own discussion of early Roman customs. In the first two sections of this chapter, I will discuss the figures of Romulus and Numa in the Roman tradition (respectively, 4.1.1 and 4.1.2), with particular attention to how they were eventually exploited for political purposes during the struggles of the late Republic and Augustus’s early career. In section 4.2, I will examine Dionysius’s account of Romulus’s rule, focusing on his formal election (4.2.1), the creation of the Roman constitution (4.2.2) and his military feats (4.2.3). As for Numa’s reign, my study will be divided in two subsections concerning, in turn, the description of his election and investiture (4.3.1) and his religious innovations (4.3.2).

2 On this notion, cf. Gruen 1985: 51-72; Rich 2003: 329-57; on RG 13 see comments in Cooley 2009: 158; cf. discussion below, chap. 4.1.2, about the closure of the gates of Janus’s temple.

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4.1 The Figures of Romulus and Numa in the Roman Tradition

4.1.1 Romulus in Late Republican and Augustan Politics

During the Augustan age, the figures of Romulus and Numa Pompilius acquired great significance, as emerges from the numerous references to them in contemporary art and literature. Contemporary conceptions of Romulus, in particular, had a certain influence over the shaping of Augustus’s public persona. Augustus styled himself after the first king throughout his career by means of continuous reminders of Romulus’s legendary deeds and achievements. Augustus’s own surname was a second choice, for the senators initially proposed to call Octavian with the honorific title of ‘Romulus’, so as to underscore Augustus’s role as the second founder of the city (Suet. Aug. 7.2; cf. Flor. 2.34.66; Dio 53.16.7-8).3 The aspects of the Romulus myth that were most emphasized in this period were, besides his founding of the city, his role as first augur (and thereby his ability to communicate with the gods and govern by divine consent) and his outstanding military prowess, especially evident in his triple triumph and his dedication of the spolia opima. Before Augustus, Romulus had been variously associated, in the literary sources, with M. Furius Camillus (who earned the title of pater patriae; Liv. 5.49.7, 7.1.10; Plut. Cam. 1.1), A. Cornelius Cossus (who, like Romulus, won the right to the spolia opima; Liv. 4.20.2), C. Marius (Plut. Mar. 27.5), Sulla (Sall. Hist. 1.55.5; cf. Plut. Sull. 34.1), Cicero (Ps.-Sall. Inv. in Cic. 4.7), Pompey (Plut. Pomp. 25.4), and Caesar (Catull. 29.5; App. BC 2.114).4 The comparison between Romulus and these Republican statesmen, however, did not always bear a positive connotation. While the figure of Romulus undoubtedly evoked the fated foundation of the city and its institutions, his characterization as a king, along with some ambivalent episodes of his life—like the murder of his brother and the death of Titus Tatius—could be perceived as problematic and read as signs of despotic attitudes. In fact, in the late Republican period the parallel with Romulus was sometimes used, within the ongoing civil struggles, to disparage political leaders and criticize

3 Cf. Galinsky 1996: 81; Beard, North, and Price 1998: 182; Scheid 2003: 133-4; also, Ramage 1987: 100-4. As considered for the figure of Aeneas (cf. in particular chap. 3.2.4), the figure of Romulus too conceivably served to inflate Octavian’s public image by giving him an illustrious political precedent as well as ancestor (see below), who could compete with the comparably glorious precedent and ancestor of his enemy M. Brutus (namely, the founder of the Republic L. Junius Brutus, see chap. 5.1.4). I thank Frances Pownall for this useful observation. 4 On Sulla as Romulus, cf. Gabba 1960: 175-225, who argues that the Romulean constitution described in RA 2.18- 23 drew on a pamphlet of the Sullan age (see below, chap. 4.2.1 with n. 64). The association of these personalities with Romulus is analyzed in Weinstock 1971: 175-82; on Romulus and Cicero, cf. also Miles 1995: 101-7.

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their individual ambitions.5 Furthermore, Romulus’s fratricide was frequently presented by the late Republican and early Augustan writers as the source of the recent ‘fraternal’ bloodsheds.6 The ambiguities inherent in Romulus’s figure became particularly manifest in the case of Caesar, who could claim a close relation to Romulus on account of his Trojan genealogy and the role, in the Romulean legend, of his ancestor Julius Proculus, the patrician who supposedly witnessed Romulus’s apotheosis.7 In 45 BC, the senate granted Caesar a series of quasi-royal privileges that highlighted his link with the founder: Caesar was not only granted the title of pater patriae (Dio 44.4.4; App. BC 2.106; Suet. Caes. 76.1, 85), but was also permitted to set his statue in the temple of Quirinus (Cic. Att. 12.45.3, 13.28.3; Dio 43.45.3)—whose identification with the deified Romulus became possibly established around this time (cf. n. 195 at chap. 4.3.2)—and to place his war spoils in the temple of Jupiter Feretrius (Dio 44.4.3).8 Augustus’s use of the Romulean legend for political purposes was thus preceded by the frequent references to the founder advanced, more or less intentionally, in connection with his adoptive father. The earliest episode that the literary sources relate regarding Augustus’s association with Romulus occurred in 43 BC, when Augustus (Octavian at the time) was about to

5 Significantly, there circulated a twofold tradition on Romulus’s death: according to one version, Romulus miraculously disappeared during a sudden storm while he was haranguing the soldiers in the Campus and ascended to heaven; but according to the other, he was killed by the senators precisely on account of his tyrannical conduct (on these two versions cf. Cic. Rep. 2.17; Liv. 1.16; RA 2.56.2-4; Ov. Fast. 2.491-6, Met. 14.818-28; Val. Max. 5.3.1; Plut. Rom. 27.3-8, Num. 2.1-3, de fort. Rom. 8; App. BC 2.114; Flor. 1.1.16-17; vir. ill. 2.10-11.). In his Life of Pompey, Plutarch implies that the second version of Romulus’s death was exploited by one of the consuls as a warning against Pompey’s ambition (Pomp. 25.4); see Coarelli 1981: 173-88; Liou-Gille 1998: 85-93. 6 Contemporary authors describe Remus’s death in various ways: in RA 1.87.2-4 Remus is said to have either died in a dispute or have been killed by a certain Celer (so Diod 8.6, and Ov. Fast. 4.837-46); Livy (1.7.2) presents the versions of both the dispute and the fratricide (cf. Ogilvie 1965: 54-55; Liou-Gille 1998: 25-28; Vasaly 2015: 37- 38); Strabo’s account (5.3.2, C 230) mentions a dispute but does not specify who was involved in it. Cf. the later text by Plutarch (Rom. 10.1-2), which reports all the variants mentioned here. On Romulus’s crime in connection with the civil wars, cf. Cic. Off. 3.40-41 (arguably a reference to Caesar); Just. 28.2.10; Ov. Fast. 2.143; and especially Hor. Epod. 7.17-20 (later echoed in Luc. Phars. 1.95); Wagenvoort 1956: 169-83, esp. 171-3; Evans 1992: 90. On Remus’s death cf. also Wiseman 1995, esp. 9-17, where he discusses the different versions of Remus’s death in the ancient sources and emphasizes how the Romans appeared more inclined to accept the version of the fratricide “in times of the greatest anguish and self-doubt” (ibid, 15). 7 On Romulus’s apotheosis and his encounter with Julius Proculus cf. Cic. Rep. 2.20, Leg. 1.3; Liv. 1.16.5-8; RA 2.63.3-4; Ov. Met. 14.805-29, Fast. 2.491-512; Plut. Rom. 28.1-3, Num. 2.2.3; see, in particular, Gagé 1972: 49-77; Porte 1981: 301-40; cf. n. 195 at chap. 4.3.2. 8 On the privileges granted to Caesar cf. Suet. Caes. 76; App. BC 2.106; Dio 44.6; see Weinstock 1971: 184-205; Evans 1992: 91-92. The offer of the diadem notably occurred during the celebration of the Lupercalia, the festival established by Romulus (cf. Suet. Caes. 79.2; Plut. Ant. 12, Caes. 61; Liv. Per. 116.2; on Romulus’s foundation of the Lupercalia cf. Plut. Rom. 21.3-8). Cf. also Cic. Phil. 2.43.110, 13.19.41, 13.21.47, and Dio 44.6.4 on the institution of a flamen to Caesar (though this priesthood was officially inaugurated only in 42 BC, with Antony being the first priest appointed; see Scheid 2005: 184); lastly, cf. Dio 43.42.3 on the institution of annual games during the Parilia in coincidence with Caesar’s victory at Munda.

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take up his first consulship. Seemingly, twelve flying vultures appeared to him, as Suetonius relates, while he was taking the auspicia (Aug. 95). In Appian’s account, the birds were seen while Augustus was performing the sacrifices after his investiture (BC 3.94). According to Dio, they appeared while Augustus was haranguing the soldiers on the first day of the elections (46.46.2). Regardless of the details, the sources explicitly compare this incident with the first act of divination performed by Romulus,9 which marked the sacredness of his foundation of the city as well as his traditional role as optimus augur.10 On the coins minted in the same year and commemorating the triumvirate, Augustus is described in the legend as pontifex and augur (RRC 490/2, 493/1; fig. 1).11 Appian states that, right after this omen, Augustus had his adoption by Caesar ratified through a lex curiata (κατὰ νόμον κουριάτιον, BC 3.94), that is, through the vote of the people divided by curiae. These were the archaic political and military units into which Romulus was believed to have organized the primitive Roman state, but which lost much of their political weight over the middle and late Republic.12 The adoption through the vote of the comitia curiata (known as adrogatio) seems to have been an outdated procedure by the time of Augustus, and, according to Appian’s text, it was mostly used for orphans.13 It is likely, then, that Augustus revived this procedure as a reference to both the traditional role of the curiae in the political life of the city and their establishment by Romulus. Next, around 29/28 BC, in his reorganization of the priesthoods, Augustus restored the brotherhood of the sodales Titii, whose creation was ascribed by some

9 Cf. Suet. Aug. 95: “Also, during his first consulship twelve vultures revealed even to him, while was interpreting the flight of the birds, as [they did] to Romulus” (primo autem consulatu et augurium capienti duodecim se vultures ut Romulo ostenderunt); App. BC 3.94: “And he began to sacrifice, when twelve vultures were seen, as many as— they say—were observed even by Romulus while he was founding the city” (καὶ ἔθυε, δώδεκά οἱ γυπῶν φανέντων, ὅσους φασὶ καὶ Ῥωμύλῳ τὴν πόλιν οἰκίζοντι ὀφθῆναι); Dio 46.46.3: “For recalling Romulus and the omen from the flight of the birds that occurred to him, he expected to receive even Romulus’s sovereignty” (πρός τε γὰρ τὸν Ῥωμύλον καὶ πρὸς τὸ οἰώνισμα τὸ ἐκείνῳ γενόμενον ἀναφέρων καὶ τὴν μοναρχίαν αὐτοῦ λήψεσθαι προσεδόκησεν). 10 Cic. Div. 1.2.3: “It is related that in the beginning the father of this city Romulus not only founded the city after taking the auspices but was himself an excellent augur” (principio huius urbis parens Romulus non solum auspicato urbem condidisse, sed ipse etiam optumus augur fuisse traditur). On the appearance of the vultures to Romulus cf. Liv. 1.7.1; RA 1.86.4; Plut. Rom. 9.5; Ogilvie 1965: 54-55. Cf. Scheid’s observation about the peculiarity of the omen received by Augustus, which—as he suggests—may have been staged by Augustus himself (2005: 185-6). On Augustus and the augurium Romuli cf. also Coarelli 1983: 41-46; Barchiesi 1997: 169-70; Humm 2012: 76-77. 11 Cf. the aurei of 31 BC (RRC 546/5; Crawford 1974: 499-501, 543). 12 The curiae provided a basis for military recruitment and served as voting units. Their meetings were known as comitia curiata. On Romulus’s division of the population into tribes and curiae, cf. Dionysius’s detailed description at RA 2.7.2-4; cf. 2.23.1-5 about the religious duties that Romulus assigned to them; cf. Cic. Rep. 2.14; Liv. 1.13.6; Plut. Rom. 14.6, 20.2. On their origins see Palmer 1970: 80-175; Cornell 1995: 114-8; Liou-Gille 1998: 71-83; Forsythe 2005: 108-15; Smith 2006: 184-234. On the lex curiata cf. Magdelain 1964b: 307-11; Humm 2012, esp. 58-73. On Augustus’s adoption into the Julii cf. Dio 45.5.3. 13 Cf. Scheid 2005: 185-6. Even though Lintott (1999: 49 n. 46, with references) observes that “our lack of evidence may be misleading and the procedure quite normal.” On the procedure of adrogatio see Gell. NA 5.19.4-10.

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sources to Romulus for the worship of his former co-regent Titus Tatius.14 The re-establishment and revival of the activity of this priesthood is attested in Augustus’s Res gestae, where Augustus stated to be himself a member of the college (ἑταῖρος Τίτιος, RG 7.3).15 Allusions to Romulus’s deeds are also recognizable in Augustus’s building program.16 For instance, Augustus restored the archaic temple of Jupiter Feretrius, which in his time was in ruins. As discussed below, the original dedication of this temple was credited to Romulus after his victory on Caenina, and inside it Romulus was believed to have deposited the spoils of king Acron after slaying him in single combat (RA 2.34.4; Liv. 1.10.5, 4.20.7; Plut. Rom. 16.3-7; see chap. 4.2.3). Also, Augustus built his house on the Palatine Hill close to the holy site where Romulus’s ancient hut was still devoutly revered (cf. RA 1.79.11; Vitr. 2.1.5; Plut. Rom. 20.4; Suet. Aug. 29.3, 57.2; Dio 53.16.5) creating in this way also a physical, tangible proximity between them.17 Lastly, like Marius, Cicero, and Caesar, all of whom had been named in recent times parens (or pater) patriae on account of their civic and military achievements, even Augustus received, on 5 February 2 BC, this highly honorific title, which ostensibly linked its recipient with Romulus as well as the key role of the father in Roman society (as explained in Sen. de Clem. 1.14.2; cf. Strab. 6.4.2, c 288).18 Besides these initiatives, it is perhaps contemporary poetry that offers the most interesting perspectives on the association between the two rulers. Two features are especially noteworthy, namely, the disappearance from the accounts of Romulus’s life of references to the crime of fratricide; and secondly, the overall rehabilitation of the figure of Romulus, which now tends to be presented in a more positive light. Around the late forties or early thirties BC, Horace still indicated as the origin of the civil wars the scelus that originated with Romulus’s murder, “...and the

14 Cf. Tac. Hist. 2.95: “The torch was supplied by the Augustales, which priesthood, just as Romulus [consecrated] to king Tatius, so Tiberius Caesar consecrated to the Julian family” (facem Augustales subdidere, quod sacerdotium, ut Romulus Tatio regi, ita Caesar Tiberius Iuliae genti sacravit); cf. Ann. 1.54, in which Tatius is said to have founded the sodales Titii himself to safeguard the Sabine rites. Varro, however, does not link the etymology of Titii with Titus Tatius, but with certain augural procedures (Varr. LL 5.85): “The Titian comrades are named after the tweeting birds, which they customarily observe in some augural rites” (sodales Titii dicti, quas in auguriis certis observare solent). Scheid (2005: 181) argues that it was Augustus who actually connected this priesthood with Titus Tatius; cf. Scheid 2003: 121; Cooley 2009: 137; also, Palmer 1974: 137-8, 190-2. 15 Epigraphical evidence attests the activity of this college even for later periods; cf. L’Année épigraphique 1997 (2000), 1425: an early third-century AD inscription from Thyatira (Asia Minor) records on a statue base the cursus honorum of M. Cnaeus Licinnius Rufinus, who—among other offices—was ἱερέυς σακερδωτίου Τίτου Τατίου. 16 On Augustus’s building activity cf. Aug. RG 20; Suet. Aug. 30.2; also, Orlin 2007: 83-86. 17 On Augustus and Romulus’s hut cf. Edwards 1996: 37-40. 18 On Marius as parens patriae cf. Cic. Rab. Perd. 10.27; on Cicero, Cic. Pis. 3.6; Pliny NH 7.117; on Caesar, cf. also Cic. Phil. 2.31, 13.23, 13.25; Liv. Per. 116; Val. Max. 6.4.5, 8.11.2. On Augustus cf. RG 35.1; Suet. Aug. 58; Dio 55.10.10; see Ramage 1987: 104-10; Crook 1996: 101-2; Eder 2005: 13-32; Cooley 2009: 272-6.

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abomination of the fraternal murder, as the blood of undeserving Remus, flowed to the ground, accursed for his descendants.”19 However, about two decades later, in mentioning Romulus again, Horace places him among the noblest characters, human or divine, he could sing of (Carm. 1.12.33). In addition, he mentions Romulus’s reign as a time of modesty and restraint (Carm. 2.15.10); and, lastly, he makes Juno announce Romulus’s apotheosis (Carm. 3.3.33-36). Virgil, in turn, not only dissociates the cause of the civil wars from Remus’s death and links it instead with Laomedon’s perjury at Troy (Georg. 1.501-2), but in the Aeneid he even has Jupiter prophesy the heavenly reunion and joint government of the two brothers Romulus-Quirinus and Remus: “Then with the wars having been put aside the harsh times shall grow mild: gray-haired Faith and Vesta, Quirinus with his brother Remus will administer justice.”20 Later in the poem, Anchises announces Romulus’s descent from Mars and his glorious future as Rome’s founder (Aen. 6.777-84). As for the later Augustan poets Tibullus and Propertius, while they both write about Remus’s death and implicitly connect it with the episode of his jumping over the wall, neither of them overtly mentions Romulus’s possible involvement in it.21 Furthermore, in praising Romulus’s enterprise against Acron of Caenina, Propertius calls him Quirinus and urbis virtutisque parens (Prop. 4.10.11, 17). Among the contemporary poets, however, it is Ovid who most frequently mentions episodes from Romulus’s life and the celebrations connected with it (cf., e.g., Fast. 2.133-44, 361-388, 481-512; 3.11-34, 179-234; 4.809-62; 5.445-80), and who moreover gives the longest account of Remus’s death, eventually ascribing it to the intervention of Romulus’s associate, Celer.22 In Ovid’s version, Romulus stands out for his firmness and his ability

19 Hor. Epod. 7.17-20: scelusque fraternae necis, / ut inmerentis fluxit in terram Remi / sacer nepotibus cruor. On Romulus’s fratricide in Augustan literature see references at n. 6, above; also, Delcourt 2005: 245-8. 20 Verg. Aen. 1.291-3: aspera tum positis mitescent saecula bellis: / cana Fides et Vesta, Remo cum fratre Quirinus / iura dabunt. In commenting on this passage Servius (Aen. 1.292) states that by calling Romulus Quirinus—and so underlining Romulus’s divine nature—Virgil could dissociate him from the crime of fratricide; see Wagenvoort 1956: 178; Wiseman 1995: 144-50. 21 Cf. Tibull. 2.5.23-24: “Romulus had not yet erected the walls of the eternal city, [which were] not to be inhabited by his brother Remus” (Romulus aeternae nondum formaverat urbis / moenia, consorti non habitanda Remo). Cf. Prop. 3.9.51-50: “I will begin with the equal kings reared up by a wild udder, and the walls [made] strong after Remus was killed” (eductosque pares silvestri ex ubere reges, / ordiar et caeso moenia firma Remo). 22 Celer is introduced in Ovid’s account as one of Romulus’s companions, whom Romulus appoints as guardian to his wall, enjoining him to kill whomever should cross it; Ov. Fast. 4.837-44; cf. RA 1.87.4; Diod. 8.6; Plut. Rom. 10.1-2 (mentioned above, n. 6); cf. Barchiesi 1997: 159-60. Barchiesi observes that there is a fundamental difference between Ovid’s and Dionysius’s narratives, for while the latter supplies no apparent reason for Celer’s conduct (and indeed stresses the improbability of this version as an explanation for Remus’s death), Ovid specifies that it was Romulus who formally prohibited the crossing of his wall and promised death for transgressors (lines 839-40), in this way being ultimately responsible for Remus’s death.

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to control his emotions.23 To some extent, his presentation of Romulus resembles current depictions of Aeneas, especially through the mention of Romulus’s pietas (Fast. 4.850) and—as Barchiesi suggests—he shows “the virtues of a modern Roman leader,”24 with a possible allusion to Augustus himself.25 Another significant aspect concerning Augustus’s association with Romulus is the contemporary appearance, in public art, of a mature portrayal of Romulus. It has been observed how the portrait of the founder does not generally appear on Republican coins, paintings, and reliefs, even though—as mentioned before—the example of Romulus as a model of virtus for Roman generals was quite popular.26 Under Augustus, however, the figure of the founder is depicted on several monuments. The extant works of art portray him in two main iconographic traditions, specifically, as a victorious general carrying the spolia opima, and as an augur. In the first iconography, Romulus is presented wearing the triumphal garb and holding a trophy.27 This figure is frequently paired with the portrait of Aeneas fleeing from Troy together with Anchises and Ascanius, a clear reminder of both Augustus’s ancestry and his qualities as a ruler, namely, his virtus and pietas.28 As previously discussed (cf. chap. 1.3), the two founders appeared together in this fashion in the Forum of Augustus, as Ovid’s verses famously recall: “On this side one sees Aeneas loaded with a dear burden and so many ancestors of Julian nobility; on the other side one sees the son of Ilia bearing the arms of the commander on his shoulders, and that illustrious deeds

23 Cf. Ov. Fast. 4.845-8: “When the king has learnt about it, he gulps down inwards the tears that are rising and holds his wound locked in his chest. He does not want to weep publicly and keeps a firm conduct and says ‘so let the enemy cross my walls’” (haec ubi rex didicit, lacrimas introrsus obortas / devorat et clausum pectore volnus habet. / flere palam non volt exemplaque fortia servat, / ‘sic’ que ‘meos muros transeat hostis’ ait). 24 Barchiesi 1997: 164, cf. 169-74. 25 On the parallel between Romulus and Aeneas see Barchiesi 1997: 162-4, who proposes to compare these verses and the following (i.e., Fast. 4.849-52) with Verg. Aen. 1.209 and 4.448-9. On Romulus’s treatment in Ovid’s poetry cf. Herbert-Brown 1994, esp. 44-54; Fox 1996: 184-8, 196-201; Barchiesi 1997: 141-4 (besides the above- mentioned pages). On the association between Augustus and Romulus see also Gagé 1930: 138-81; Evans 1992: 94- 103; Eder 2005: 13-32. 26 A notable exception is a relief of Caesarian age. The scene, carved on a round marble base in Civita Castellana, shows Romulus while offering a sacrifice to Mars (Weinstock 1971: 128, with plate 14). Evans (1992: 106-8) adds four coins bearing a beardless male head which have been unconvincingly interpreted in the past as depictions of Romulus: a denarius of M. Plaetorius Cestianus (RRC 405/5; Crawford 1974: 418); a denarius of M. Pupius Piso Frugi (RRC 418/1, 2; Crawford (1974: 442-3) argues that the head represents Mercury); a denarius of Faustus Silla (RRC 426/4; Crawford (1974: 449-51) interprets it as the head of Hercules); and a denarius of Q. Cassius Longinus (RRC 428/3; Crawford (1974: 452) identifies the head as Genius populi Romani). 27 This iconography is described in Plut. Rom. 16.5-6, 8. Evans (1992: 117) associates this type with Mars’s image on two late Republican coins, namely, a denarius of L. Verrius Flaccus (RRC 306; 108/7 BC), and a denarius of P. Fonteius Capito (RRC 429/1; 55 BC); cf. Crawford 1974: 316, 453. 28 Cf. Galinsky 1996: 204-5.

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are set underneath their respective men.”29 Copies of these statues are attested in Pompeii by the fragmentary inscriptions found in the Building of Eumachia, located in the south-east corner of the forum. The building was dedicated by the priestess of Venus Eumachia to Augustan Concord and Piety (Concordiae Augustae Pietati, CIL 10, 00811, p. 967) conceivably during the early principate of Tiberius. The two inscriptions recovered were likely attached to the bases of the statues of Aeneas and Romulus, which stood in niches on either side of the entrance and may reproduce the analogous elogia of Augustus’s forum.30 Again, in Pompeii, the Trojan group and Romulus with the spoils of Acron appear in two paintings from the fullonica of Fabius Ululutremulus, which fronts onto the Via dell’Abbondanza (IX.13.5), in two separate panels arranged at the sides of the front door.31 The representation of Romulus and Aeneas together on monuments, which became so popular under Augustus and likely his successor Tiberius, retained its significance under other members of the Julian dynasty as well. A sesterce minted under Caligula, for instance, shows the temple of the Divine Augustus with statues of the Aeneas’s group and Romulus as corner acroteria of the temple roof (RIC 1 36);32 and a panel from the Medinaceli relief cycle (Claudian age), which conceivably decorated a monumental building in the area of Nola, depicts a procession scene featuring, on a tensa, Aeneas and Romulus in the same pose (cf. chap. 3.2.4, n. 78 and fig. 4).33 A second, less attested, iconographic type shows Romulus seated holding the augur’s staff (lituus). This type appears in the pediment of the temple of Mars Ultor, in this way emphasizing

29 Ov. Fast. 5.563-6: hinc videt Aenean oneratum pondere caro / et tot Iuleae nobilitatis avos; / hinc videt Iliaden umeris ducis arma ferentem, / claraque dispositis acta subesse viris. On these lines cf. Zanker 1988: 113-4; Barchiesi 2005: 285-8; on the Forum Augustum see chapters 1.3 and 3.2.4. 30 Cf. La Rocca 1976: 114-8. The text of Romulus’s elogium from Eumachia’s Building reads as follows: “Romulus son of Mars founded the city of Rome and reigned thirty-eight years and he was the first general who, after the enemy’s general Acron king of the Caeninenses was killed, consecrated the spolia opima to Jupiter Feretrius and having been welcomed in the gods’ number was named Quirinus” (Romulus Martis / [f]ilius urbem Romam / [condi]dit et regnavit annos / duodequadraginta isque / primus dux duce hostium / Acrone rege Caeninensium / interfecto spolia opi[ma] / Iovi Feretrio consecra[vit] / receptusque in deoru[m] / numerum Quirinu[s] / appellatu[s est], CIL 10, 00809, p. 967 = ILS 64 = Inscr. Ital. XIII 3.86). 31 Cf. Gagé 1930: 141-3; Spinazzola 1953, 1: 150-5; La Rocca 1976: 222; Zanker 1988: 201-2. 32 The erection of this temple on the Palatine began under Tiberius, although the building was incomplete at Tiberius’s death and was later dedicated by Caligula (cf. Suet. Tib. 47, 74; Calig. 21; Pliny NH 12.94, 35.131; Tac. Ann. 4.45; Dio 56.46.3, 57.10, 59.7.1-4). This coin type was replicated, with some variants, on denarii of Antoninus Pius (RIC 3 124, 144; cf. Gagé 1930: 145-6). 33 On the Medinaceli relief cycle see Schäfer 2013: 321-3. The tensa was “the chariot or car on which the images of the gods were borne in the Circensian games” (Lewis-Short, s.v. tensa). Cf. Fest. 500 L: “Sinnius Capito says that the vehicle, by which the spoils of the gods are carried to a couch in the Circus during the Circensian games, is called tensa” (tensam ait vocari Sinnius Capito vehiculum, quo exuviae deorum ludicris Circensibus in Circum ad pulvinar vehuntur).

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Romulus’s role as first augur as well as the link between Augustus’s dedication of the Parthian spoils to Mars and Romulus’s deposition of the spolia opima (see below, chap. 4.2.3).34

4.1.2 Augustus and Numa Pompilius

At the same time as Augustus was claiming an association with Romulus, he hinted at his connection with the second king of Rome, Numa Pompilius. As previously mentioned, Numa was uniformly remembered in the Roman tradition for two closely related characteristics: his establishment of most Roman religious institutions and his peace-oriented rule (cf., for instance, Cic. Rep. 2.26-27; Liv. 1.19-21; RA 2.63-65; Plut. Num. 8-9). According to Livy’s account, Numa built the temple of Janus and used its gates to signal the status of peace and war of the city: the doors could only be closed when the war(s) with Rome’s neighbours had ended, otherwise they were to remain open.35 Before Augustus’s time, the gates of Janus’s temple were said to have been closed only twice: under Numa, who kept them shut for the whole duration of his kingdom (namely, forty-three years) and after the first Punic War, during the consulship of C. Atilius and T. Manlius (235 BC). In the latter occasion, however, the gates were reopened in the same year due to the outbreak of a new conflict (cf. Varr. LL 5.165; Liv. 1.19.3; Plut. Num. 20.1-2, Fort. Rom. 9 = Mor. 322b-c). Under Augustus, the temple of Janus was closed twice within a few years: in 29 BC, while Augustus was still in the East, to celebrate the end of the war against Antony and Cleopatra; and after the Cantabrian War in 25 BC (cf. Liv. ibid; Plut. ibid; Dio 51.20.4, 53.26.5t—it had been reopened in 27 BC; Oros. 6.21). The senate decreed a third closure of Janus’s temple in 11/10 BC after the victories of Drusus in Germany and Tiberius in Pannonia (cf. Suet. Aug. 22.1; Aug. RG 13), but sudden new disturbances in Pannonia and Dalmatia may have prevented its actual closing. The exceptional character of this threefold (possibly twofold) event during Augustus’s Principate, so rare in the previous centuries, enhanced the image of Augustus as peace-bringer and was greatly

34 Cf. Zanker 1988: 201; Wiseman 1995: 146-9; Rich 1998: 71-128. 35 Liv. 1.19.2: “Thinking that a warlike people had to be softened through the disuse of arms, he built Janus’s temple at the bottom of the Argiletum as a sign of peace and war, to indicate that the city was at war when it was open, and that all the peoples around were pacified when it was closed” (mitigandum ferocem populum armorum desuetudine ratus, Ianum ad infimum Argiletum indicem pacis bellique fecit, apertus ut in armis esse ciuitatem, clausus pacatos circa omnes populos significaret). For a comment on this text see Ogilvie 1965: 93-95; on the Roman tradition about Janus cf. Liou-Gille 1998: 141-50 with extensive references; on Augustus and Janus’s temple cf. Gruen 1985: 54-55.

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emphasized in Augustus’s Res gestae, in which the princeps states, in addition, that the practice of shutting the doors of Janus’s temple was established by the maiores (RG 13).36 His closing of the temple’s gates (that is, his re-establishment of universal peace) therefore emerges as another act accomplished in accordance with Rome’s ancestral tradition and customs.37 Unsurprisingly, Numa’s peaceful character is frequently highlighted in contemporary literature. Horace refers to his reign as quietum Pompili regnum (Hor. Carm. 1.12.33-34); and Virgil, in his gallery of illustrious Romans, vividly describes him as a venerable old man bearing symbols of piety and peace: “But who is that one at a distance distinguished by an olive branch carrying sacred objects? I recognize the hair and gray chin of the king of Rome who will establish the city by laws for the first time, sent to a great power from little Cures and a poor land.” 38 Besides Numa’s peaceful appearance, Virgil’s text is notable for its characterization of the king as a lawgiver and for its remark on Numa’s origins, since these aspects are suggestive of Augustus’s intense constitutional activity as well as his origins from a minor Italian town (cf. chap. 3.2.4). The role of Numa as a lawgiver also emerges powerfully from Livy’s account of Numa’s social and religious innovations. Livy describes the goal of Numa’s measures as civilizing and strongly contrasts his activity with Romulus’s warlike behaviour, emphasizing at the same time the uncouth nature of Rome’s early inhabitants: “having obtained the rule in this way, a new city that had been founded with violence and arms he prepares to found over again with laws and customs.”39 This description underlines the complementarity of Romulus’s and Numa’s systems of government, and the necessity of Numa’s rule after that of Romulus for the successful development of the Roman state. Moreover, Livy’s text appears to imply that Numa’s preoccupation in undertaking the reorganization of the state was ultimately based on moral considerations, since Numa believed that the people, if living in an enduring state of war, could not be tamed (cf. 1.19.2). Therefore, in

36 On the text of RG 13 cf. Cooley 2009: 157-61. 37 As Kennedy (1992: 43-44) has noted, even Livy’s narrative (1.19.3, above) seems to underscore the extraordinary character and rarity of this practice, almost echoing Augustus’s own words in the Res Gestae. 38 Verg. Aen. 6.808-12: quis procul ille autem ramis insignis oliuae / sacra ferens? nosco crinis incanaque menta / regis Romani primam qui legibus urbem / fundabit, Curibus paruis et paupere terra / missus in imperium magnum. On these verses, see comments in Horsfall 2013: 552-4. 39 Liv. 1.19.1: qui regno ita potitus urbem nouam conditam ui et armis, iure eam legibusque ac moribus de integro condere parat. Cf. Liv. 1.21.6 (n. 1, above). Cf. Kennedy 1992: 43: “Numa no less than Romulus was part of a version of Roman history which projected Augustus at its telos and enabled him to be characterised as the rare individual who could unite the disparate social practices (and their associated values) condensed in the terms war and peace.” The contrast between Numa and Romulus emerges also in Cic. Rep. 2.13.25-14.27; Diod. 8.14RA 2.60.4; Liv. 1.21, 1.32; vir. ill. 3; Ov. Fast. 3.276-84; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 268B, Num. 8; Flor. 1.1.2.

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order to keep the Romans in check, he directed them to the worship of the gods by establishing a complex religious setup: “With the preoccupations of external treats having been set aside, lest the spirits, which the fear of the enemies and the military discipline had restrained, would indulge themselves in idleness, he thought that the fear of the gods ought to be inspired [in them].”40 This characterization may invite, again, parallels with the current socio-political anxieties at Livy’s time and with Augustus’s religious reforms. Not coincidentally, Augustus presented his initiatives in terms of the restoration of morals and proper relations with the gods after the savagery of prolonged civil wars, and he carried them out mostly during the first two decades of his rule, a period that— scholars have often emphasized—was crucial for the legitimation of his power and authority.41 Among the institutions created (or perfected) by Numa, the literary sources generally count the calendar and all the major priesthoods, such as the Flamines, the Vestals, the Salii, the fetiales, and the pontifices. Numa himself was thought to have conducted many religious services (cf. Cic. Rep. 2.26-27; Liv. 1.19.6-20; RA 2.63-67, 70-73; Plut. Num. 9, 12-13, 18-19; vir. ill. 3.1; also, Enn. Ann. 2.113-5 Skutsch; Diod. 8.14; Flor. 1.2).42 Augustus as well—to draw a loose comparison— undertook both the reform of the calendar and the reorganization of priesthoods (cf. references at chap. 1.2 n. 63).43 Furthermore, just as Numa was believed to have overseen the erection of several sacred buildings, such as the temple of Vesta, the Regia, and the shrines of Fides and Terminus (cf. RA 2.63.2, 2.64.1, 2.75.3; Plut. Num. 11.1; 14.1; 16.1), so too Augustus claimed to have built a large number of new temples (listed in RG 19; cf. Liv. 4.20.7).44 Besides the parallels with Numa’s personal qualities and policies, Augustus could assert a closer connection with the second king than any of his Republican predecessors, thanks to his relation to the Marcian family.45 According to the Roman tradition, Numa left behind numerous offspring: each one of his children eventually became the progenitor of an illustrious family. As

40 Liv. 1.19.4: positis externorum periculorum curis, ne luxuriarent otio animi quos metus hostium disciplinaque militaris continuerat, (...) deorum metum iniciendum ratus est. See Ogilvie 1965: 94-95; Sailor 2006: 344; also, Koch 2003: 302-3, who emphasizes the similarities with Sall. Cat. 10. Cf., on the other hand, Plut. Num. 8.1-3, who presents the religious practices created by Numa as a means not necessarily to keep people in check and control their passions, but rather to soften their spirits hardened by war. 41 Cf. Kennedy 1992: 42-46; Galinsky 1996: 282-3; Scheid 2005: 176-7; also, Gordon 2003, esp. 66-68. 42 On priestly colleges in early Rome see North 1989: 582-90. 43 The creation of the calendar is not mentioned by Dionysius in his account of Numa’s religious and civic institutions and will not be treated in the present chapter. On Dionysius’s omission see Mora 1995: 259-67. For a recent study on the evolution of the Roman calendar see Rüpke 2011. 44 See Gros 1976: 15-52; Price 1996: 830-4; Cooley 2009: 187-95. 45 On the Julii’s relation with the Marcii Reges cf. Suet. Caes. 6.1 (discussed at chap. 3.2.3).

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for their number and precise identity, the ancient sources were at variance, as both Dionysius and Plutarch state (cf., respectively, RA 2.76.5 and Num. 21.1). According to the former, most writers agreed that Numa had four sons and one daughter—“whose lineage still survives” at Dionysius’s time (ὧν ἔτι σώζεται τὰ γένη)—with the exception of Cn. Gellius, who related that Numa had only one daughter, the mother of King Ancus Marcius (RA 2.76.5). Plutarch, in his Life of Numa, is more specific and indicates, for each one of Numa’s children, the name and succeeding family branch: his daughter Pompilia married Marcius and gave birth to Ancus Marcius; of Numa’s four sons, Pompon fathered the Pomponii, Pinus the Pinarii, Calpus the Calpurnii, and Mamercus the Mamercii (Num. 21.2-3). Claims to Numa’s lineage had been advanced since the early first century BC, as may be inferred from the appearance of his image on coins at a time when legendary ancestries began to be exploited by aristocratic families for self-promotional purposes.46 In c. 97 BC, for instance, the moneyer L. Pomponius Molo minted a denarius bearing a laureate head of Apollo on the obverse, and Numa holding a lituus on the reverse; the identity of the latter is made clear by the legend, which reads NUMA POMPIL. (RRC 334/1).47 A few years later, C. Marcius Censorinus minted a series of denarii with, on the obverse, the heads of Numa and Ancus Marcius together (RRC 346/1 a-i; 88 BC).48 Around the mid of the first century, in 49 BC, Numa appeared again on a denarius of Cn. Calpurnius Piso (cos. 23 BC) from Pompey’s mint (RRC 446/1).49 In the early Augustan period, another alleged descendant of Numa, Cn. Calpurnius Piso (the son of the elder Piso mentioned above),50 together with the moneyers L. Naevius Surdinus and C. Plotinus Rufus, minted a series of asses depicting the head of Augustus on the obverse and Numa on the reverse (RIC 1 390-6, p. 71; fig. 2). The emission of these asses, in 23 BC, has been related to the celebration of the Secular Games, which Augusts originally planned for that year.51 Wallace- Hadrill, however, suggests that this emission ought to be interpreted within Augustus’s reorganization of the minor magistracies (among which, the college of the monetales) and his

46 Cf. Evans 1990: 99-105; Flower 1996, esp. 60-90; Farney 2007. 47 Cf. Crawford 1974: 332. 48 Cf. Crawford 1974: 357. 49 Cf. Crawford 1974: 463; Evans 1992: 136-41. 50 On the political alliances and character of the two Pisones, father and son, cf. Tac. Ann. 2.43. 51 Cf. Galinsky 1996: 35-37; Györi 2013: 89-108.

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association with the founder of Roman coinage—that is, Numa.52 In either case, the pairing of Augustus and Numa on coins likely had the effect of presenting a fresh image of Augustus, which emphasized his role in reforming the civil institutions (besides consolidating universal peace).

4.2 Romulus, the Lawgiver and the General

Before proceeding to the narrative of the Roman Kingdom, Dionysius revisits the topic of Rome’s foundation, discussing different theories about the identity of its founders and its possible date (RA 1.72-74). Since these passages prompt interesting methodological reflections, I will briefly consider them here. The mention of a large number of versions for the episodes in question was likely meant, in part, to convey the importance and antiquity of the subject to the readers and had the result of emphasizing the uncertainty about it (either real or alleged) in the Greek-speaking world. On the other hand, such discussion may also have been intended to strengthen Dionysius’s own authority as historian, as Nicholas Wiater has recently argued (see below). The discussion of Rome’s founders and Rome’s foundation date was seemingly made necessary for Dionysius by the fact, previously alluded to, that there existed a plethora of stories about these matters among the ancient writers, who variously connected Rome’s foundation with Aeneas’s arrival in Italy and the activity of his direct descendants. After laying out several variants,53 Dionysius begins the relation of the stories that he deems “the most credible” (τὰ πιθανώτατα τῶν μνημονευομένων, 1.75.4). As in the case of the Aeneas legend, here too Dionysius regards the task of dispelling doubts and correcting the ‘wrong views’ about Rome’s founders as

52 Wallace-Hadrill 1986: 82-83; cf. Sutherland 1978: 173-4. On Numa’s creation of coinage cf. Pliny NH 34.1; Isid. Orig. 16.18.10; Lydus de mens. 1.17. This emission evidently connected the Pisones to Augustus, identifying them as supporters of the new regime (Wallace-Hadrill, ibid). 53 According to the versions recorded by Dionysius, the Greek historians Cephalon of Gergis, Demagoras of Samos, and Agathyllus indicated that Rome was founded in the second generation after the Trojan War by one of Aeneas’s sons (RA 1.72.1, cf. 1.49.2). The author of the History of the Priestesses at Argos (to be identified with Hellanicus) ascribed Rome’s foundation to Aeneas himself, who had been halted on the shores of Italy by the burning of his fleet by a Trojan woman (1.72.2; cf. chap. 3.2.1). A comparable story had been apparently handed down by Aristotle (1.72.3-4). A Trojan woman, Rome, was also named in the version of Callias (early third century BC; see chap. 3.2.1), who made Romulus and Romus her sons from Latinus (1.72.5). The historian Xenagoras wrote that Rome was built by Romus, one of the sons of Latinus and Circe (ibid). Next, Dionysius of Chalcis believed Romus the son of Ascanius or Emathion (both being Aeneas’s offspring, 1.72.6). The early Roman historians, too, drawing on the “sacred tables” reported that Romulus and Remus were either children or grandchildren of Aeneas (1.73.1-2; cf. chap 3.2.2). According to another (here anonymous) account, Aeneas’s son Remus founded a settlement called Rome, which was in turn abandoned and repopulated fifteen generations later by an Alban colony (1.73.3). Lastly, Antiochus of Syracuse related that there was a settlement called Rome that antedated even the Trojan colonization (1.73.4-5); cf. Bickerman 1952: 65; Gabba 1967: 152-4; and discussion at chap. 3.2.1.

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his responsibility (cf. RA 1.5.1), with the aim of showing—once again—the city’s Greek legacy and the Greek virtues upon which the Roman civilization rested. In addition, Dionysius claims to have accomplished this task in a thorough manner, that is, by providing a solid chronological framework for Rome’s foundation, which could be intelligible to both Greek and Roman readers. The uncertainty, in fact, was not limited to the identity of the founders, but extended to the year of Rome’s foundation, for which the ancient authorities had recorded different options: Timaeus of Sicily thought that Rome was founded in 814/3 BC and was thus contemporary with Carthage;54 the annalist L. Cincius Alimentus placed the foundation in 729/8 BC; whereas Q. Fabius Pictor, M. Porcius Cato, and Polybius dated it around the mid-eighth century (respectively, 748/7, 752/1, and 751/50 BC; cited in RA 1.74.1-2). While ultimately agreeing with the date given by Cato,55 Dionysius criticizes his predecessors (explicitly naming Polybius) for their lack of investigation of chronological matters.56 Indeed, Dionysius composed a separate treatise on chronology, in which he explained his computations in detail (1.74.1-3). His chronological method apparently worked backwards, for Dionysius started his reckoning from the Gauls’ invasion of Rome (for which he gives the year 387 BC by archons and the Olympiad) arriving at the year of the expulsion of the kings. Dionysius claims to have inferred the latter year from the information preserved in a censorial document, which recorded the date of the census carried on right before the city’s capture μετὰ τὴν ἐκβολὴν τῶν βασιλέων (1.74.5). From there he inferred the exact year of the foundation by summing up the durations of the individual reigns (1.75.1-3).57 In his latest contribution to the subject, Wiater cites Dionysius’s discussion about the date of Rome’s foundation among the examples illustrating the narrative strategy by which Dionysius positions himself with regards to both his predecessors and his readers—or, borrowing Wiater’s terminology, how he creates the “authority effect”58 in the Roman Antiquities. According to Wiater, presenting a plethora of different versions about Rome’s foundation date by both Greek and Roman writers has the purpose not so much of helping the readers to establish the exact date

54 See Baron 2013: 25, 48-49. 55 Dionysius renders this date as the first year of the seventh Olympiad (1.74.2). Cf. Diod. 7.5.1, who gives the second year of the same Olympiad (751/50 BC). 56 Cf. Schultze 1996: 205-6. As she argues, through this polemical note Dionysius intended to show his superior accuracy. As mentioned at chap. 3.2.2, in his treatise on chronology Dionysius discussed the canons of Eratosthenes and synchronized the Greek dating system based on Olympiads with the Roman consular years (cf. RA 1.74.2). 57 Cf. Gabba 1964: 486-93, 1991: 86-87; Mora 1995: 159-75; Schultze 1996: 192-214, 2012: 120-6. 58 Wiater 2017: 241; cf. 234-5 on the definition of “authority effect” as a dynamic relation between author and reader.

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by independent interpretation as of “convey[ing] the chaotic state of information on the subject”59 to them, and eventually of discouraging them from pursuing further enquiry. Dionysius’s desired effect, Wiater argues, is to reveal the lack of competence of the readers and their need to rely on Dionysius’s expertise in chronological matters. He also attempts to affirm his authority by discounting the chronological approaches employed by other historians (specifically, as noted above, Polybius). Dionysius’s alleged superiority over Polybius is substantiated, Wiater observes, by the fact that Dionysius shares his reasoning with the readers, whereas Polybius resorts to sources inaccessible to them (RA 1.74.3): “[Dionysius] reached his conclusions in an ‘open’ process witnessed by his readers. (...) It is because his readers have witnessed how Dionysius manages and makes sense of the complicated material with skills far beyond their own, that they are prepared to accept his word over that of his famous predecessor.”60 Dionysius’s presentation of multiple variants, then, may ultimately constitute an effort to subtly direct the readers’ preferences to specific directions and impose his own opinion over them. After the elucidation of the date of Rome foundation, Dionysius begins the narrative of Romulus’s early life, from his conception in fabulous circumstances, to his rearing by the herdsman Faustulus and the early deeds accomplished with his brother (1.77-84).61 It is worth stressing that, in Dionysius’s version, as a youth Romulus was trained in “letters, music, and use of Greek arms” (γράμματα καὶ μουσικὴν καὶ χρῆσιν ὅπλων Ἑλληνικῶν) as he was sent with Remus to Gabii “to learn the Greek education” (ὡς Ἑλλάδα παιδείαν ἐκμάθοιεν, 1.84.5). Faustulus himself, we are told, was descended from an Arcadian colonist (1.84.3). This brief report, unparalleled in such terms in the other extant sources,62 emphasizes the Greek background of

59 Wiater 2017: 241. 60 Wiater 2017: 243. 61 Cf., in particular, Poucet 1976: 201-6, and Verbrugghe 1981: 236-8, who both discuss the influence of Fabius Pictor in the account of the birth of Romulus and Remus in the RA. 62 A similar report is found only in the later accounts of Plut. Rom. 6.1 and OGR 21.3. Plutarch generically states that the twins were educated in Gabii in letters and other subjects as suitable for people of noble birth. The author of the OGR relates that Romulus and Remus learned both the Greek and Latin letters in Gabii on secret initiative of Numitor (Gabiis Graecarum Latinarumque litterarum ediscendarum gratia commoratos, Numitore avo clam omnia submimstrante). The report may derive from a common source. Unlike Plutarch’s and the OGR’s texts, however, Dionysius specifies that Romulus received the traditional Greek παιδεία—composed of grammar, music, and military training—a detail which is likely his own addition. Cf. Peruzzi: 1969: 161-89, on Greek culture at Gabii in the literary tradition. On Romulus’s early life, cf. Diod. 8.3-4; Liv. 1.4.8-1.5; Strab. 5.3.2, C 229; Plut. Rom. 6-8.

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Romulus and foreshadows a prominent topic of the following narrative, that is, the Greek inspiration behind many of Romulus’s innovations at the government.63

4.2.1 Romulus’s Foundation of the City and the ‘Constitutional Debate’

As mentioned in the introduction, the account of Romulus’s constitution is central to understanding Dionysius’s political thought and his presentation of Rome not only as the best governed of all the (Greek) cities, but also as a nation grounded on Greek civic values from its inception. Also, this account provides interesting insights on the figure of Romulus and highlights some traits of his character, such as his pietas and justice, which have not received adequate scholarly attention.64 Dionysius was not interested in the construction of a complex character in order to merely embellish his account. Rather, the attribution of certain characteristics to Romulus served to achieve specific aims, which will be illustrated section by section. I begin my analysis by discussing Romulus’s investiture as king and his speech about choosing the best constitution. Dionysius relates that, before taking up the kingship, Romulus performed an elaborate foundation ritual during which he sacrificed to the gods, took the omens, and invited the people to sacrifice in turn. Next, he made all the population leap through fires to be purified and afterwards traced the furrow for the foundation of the wall around the Palatine, concluding the ceremony with another sacrifice. This event, Dionysius observes, was still commemorated at his time during the festival called Parilia (RA 1.88.1-3).65 Dionysius thus starts his account of Romulus’s rule by

63 Cf. Mora 1995: 183; Delcourt 2005: 122; Wiater 2011a: 175. The events surrounding Rome’s foundation, including the controversy about the auspicia and the death of Remus, are related in RA 1.85-87. Dionysius’s treatment of the death of Remus is commented, in particular, by Fox 1996: 56-57; Delcourt 2005: 257-8; cf. notes 6 and 22, above. 64 Previous scholarship has mostly focused on Dionysius’s sources for this section (RA 2.7-29) in the attempt to establish its genesis. See, in particular, Gabba 1960: 175-225; Balsdon 1971: 18-27; Poma 1989: 187-205, also, 1981: 69-101; Sordi 1993: 111-20; Delcourt 2005: 272-99; Wiseman 2007: 81-98; Wiater 2011a: 168-193. Gabba has argued that, in composing this portion of the text, Dionysius used a pamphlet of the Sullan age as his source. This argument is based, among other factors, on the marked pro-senatorial character of Dionysius’s narrative, which could be ascribed to the atmosphere of restoration of senatorial influence completed under Sulla between 88 and 81 BC. Poma has pointed to a later source (possibly Caesarian). Balsdon, on the other hand, considers this portion an entirely Dionysian product; this hypothesis is also supported by Ando 1999: 21 n. 84 (cf. also Miles: 1995: 124-5). Wiater has examined the account of the Romulean constitution in terms of definition of Roman identity: in his reading, the laws established by Romulus implement the Greek political and cultural values in Roman society and constitute guidelines for both public and private behaviour (2011a, esp. 168-9). 65 According to Ovid, during the Parilia the ritual of leaping through flames was still in use at his time (Ov. Fast. 4.727: certe ego transilui positas ter in ordine flammas; “indeed I leapt over the flames set in a row three times”). On Romulus’s foundation ritual in the RA see Delcourt 2005: 264-8. On the Parilia cf. also Vell. 1.8.4; Plut. Rom. 12.1; Beard, North, and Price 1998: 174-6.

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highlighting his piety and his assiduous observance of the divine signs. This stress on piety— which, as discussed in the previous chapter, was an important aspect in the account of the Aeneas legend—has a specific function. Right after the conclusion of his description of the foundation ritual, Dionysius asserts: “As a result, let everyone now confidently decide to dismiss the many views of those who make Rome a refuge of barbarians, runaways, and vagrants and declare that [Rome] is a Greek city, demonstrating that it is the most impartial and benevolent of the cities.”66 This statement looks back to the prefatory considerations, where Dionysius claims that the Greeks believed the Romans to be descended from vagabonds, barbarians, and slaves, and to have reached world domination not “by piety, justice, and the remaining virtue” (δι’ εὐσέβειαν δὲ καὶ δικαιοσύνην καὶ τὴν ἄλλην ἀρετὴν, 1.4.2), but by random chance. The description of Romulus’s foundation ritual is meant to further refute this notion by showing that the construction of the city was carried out in obedience to divine will and following proper religious procedures and thereby through piety. Rome is deemed a Greek city on account not only of the ethnic identity of its early inhabitants (who were descended from the Greeks), but also of the qualities that have characterized them since the city’s foundation (which are a consequence of their Greek blood). In addition, by defining Rome as a very benevolent (φιλανθρωποτάτη)67 city, Dionysius anticipates another crucial theme that will be developed in the narrative as a key factor in Rome’s expansion: the practice established by Romulus of welcoming new subjects into the citizen body (many of whom, as discussed below, were also Greeks, chap. 4.2.3; cf. discussion at chap. 2.1.2 a). Of the extant literary accounts of the city’s foundation, only Plutarch’s shows some similarities with Dionysius’s text. According to Plutarch, however, Romulus was instructed in the performance of the proper rites by men that he specifically summoned from Etruria.68 Also, Plutarch makes no mention of the peculiar expiation through fire ritual and the numerous sacrifices

66 RA 1.89.1: ὥστε θαρρῶν ἤδη τις ἀποφαινέσθω, πολλὰ χαίρειν φράσας τοῖς βαρβάρων καὶ δραπετῶν καὶ ἀνεστίων ἀνθρώπων καταφυγὴν τὴν Ῥώμην ποιοῦσιν Ἑλλάδα πόλιν αὐτήν, ἀποδεικνύμενος μὲν κοινοτάτην τε πόλεων καὶ φιλανθρωποτάτην. 67 Cf. LSJ s.v. φιλάνθρωπος: “loving mankind.” On the notion of φιλανθρωπία cf. section 4.2.2 b. 68 Rom. 11.1: “Romulus began the foundation of the city, having summoned from Tyrrhenia men who laid down each principle in accordance with some sacred laws and writings and instructed him as in a mystic rite” (ὁ δὲ Ῥωμύλος (...) ᾤκιζε τὴν πόλιν, ἐκ Τυρρηνίας μεταπεμψάμενος ἄνδρας ἱεροῖς τισι θεσμοῖς καὶ γράμμασιν ὑφηγουμένους ἕκαστα καὶ διδάσκοντας ὥσπερ ἐν τελετῇ). As noted before, Dionysius seems rather inclined to omit or reject Etruscan components in his account of Rome’s early history (cf. chap. 3.1). Even later in the account, as Dionysius discusses various hypotheses for the origin of the practice of observing lightning as a divine omen (RA 2.5), he rejects the idea of the Etruscan derivation in favour of the Trojan origin (2.5.5). Cf. Engels 2012: 163-5. On the Etruscan ritual of foundation of cities see Varr. LL 5.143.

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described by Dionysius, and focuses instead on Romulus’s division of the sacred space of the city (Rom. 11.2-3).69 Livy, on the other hand, omits the description of the foundation ritual altogether, and diverges notably from Dionysius in the order of the events related: after reporting the death of Remus, instead of describing the steps of the actual building of the city, he inserts an excursus on the legend of Hercules and Cacus and the origin of the cult of Hercules at the Ara Maxima. This aetiological digression is included in the context of Romulus’s organization of the religious affairs, which according to Livy was his first act of governance. Of all the foreign rites, Livy tells, Romulus accepted into the primitive religious system only the Greek cult of Hercules (1.7.3-8.1; cf. RA 1.39-40).70 The focus on Romulus’s piety thus appears specific to Dionysius’s account, whereas Livy and Plutarch show interest in aspects of the Romulus legend more closely related to the establishment of traditional Roman cults and institutions. The description of the constitution established by Romulus is prefaced by a constitutional debate between Romulus and the Roman people about the form of government that they ought to impose on the new colony (RA 2.3-4). This episode is noteworthy because it introduces some key concepts that will recur frequently in the course of Dionysius’s work, such as the adaptability of the Roman constitution, which is of a ‘mixed’ type, and the prevalent atmosphere of concord among the governing bodies. In addition, such ideas are explained by Romulus through references to Greek political theory—specifically, Herodotus and Isocrates—which are here adapted to describe a scenario of civil harmony and wise politics for early Roman society. Romulus’s address to the people is centered on the importance of establishing the most fitting constitution for a city as the only way to guarantee its survival and prosperity, since it enables the citizens to live morally and in mutual harmony (2.3.5-7). Romulus opens his speech with a reflection about what should be considered most valuable in a city, observing that buildings are fitting adornments for periods of peace, but cannot unfailingly defend citizens in case of foreign wars or civil strife (2.3.1-2); the greatest ornaments for a city—its “impregnable walls” (τείχη τε ἀνάλωτα, 2.3.5)—are men of courage and justice, whose virtues are nurtured by wise institutions:

But there are other things that keep cities safe and make them [become] great from small: in foreign wars, the power of the arms (this is gained through courage and practice); and in civil disturbances, the unity of mind of the citizens; and the moderate and just life of each one—he declared—was the most adequate way for the commonwealth to achieve this. (...) But it is the form of the constitution when things have been

69 On the comparison between Dionysius’s and Plutarch’s accounts cf. Delcourt 2005: 266-8. 70 See comments in Ogilvie 1965: 55-61; Miles 1995: 70, 148.

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established wisely that produces fighters, just men, and those who pursue the other virtues, and on the other hand base customs bring about men who are soft and greedy and slaves of shameful passions.71

These initial remarks, and in particular the focal role that Romulus ascribes to the constitution in fostering concord and civic virtue, show the unmistakable influence of Isocrates’s political thought. The centrality in Isocrates of the concept of harmony (ὁμόνοια), both between citizens and between city-states, is well-known, as the orator discusses it in numerous passages of his orations.72 The term—in the context of Isocrates’s work—refers, on the one hand, to the ideal sentiment of mutual agreement and unity of purpose that ought to prevail among the Greek cities, eventually leading them to overcome their reciprocal rivalries and unite against a common, external enemy (namely, the Persians); and, on the other hand, it identifies a condition of prevalent peace (or rather, lack of strife) between the citizens and parties of the same city-state.73 In the second book of the Roman Antiquities, the notion of ὁμόνοια is mentioned frequently, generally being used to describe the relationships between the Roman citizens as they came to be regulated by Romulus’s constitutional activity (see the relevant occurrences below, at chap. 4.2.2). In his first public speech, Romulus in fact mentions the equivalent notion of ὁμοφροσύνη74 as the most effective defense against civil conflicts, implicitly indicating it as being in association with a wise constitution, for only the latter can produce virtuous citizens (RA 2.3.5, above). The allusion to Isocrates’s ideas is strengthened here by Romulus’s language and arguments, which closely mimic those expressed in a famous passage of Isocrates’s Areopagiticus. In his speech addressed to the Athenian community, Isocrates emphasizes the importance of a fitting constitution to ensure the city’s success and—just like Romulus in Dionysius’s account—contends that strong walls (τὰ τείχη κάλλιστα καὶ μέγιστα) are useless defenses in a badly governed city:

And yet we all know that success both comes to and remains steady not for those who have thrown around the finest and strongest walls, (…) but for those who govern their city in the best and wisest way. For the

71 RA 2.3.3-5: ἀλλ᾽ ἕτερα εἶναι τὰ σώζοντα καὶ ποιοῦντα μεγάλας ἐκ μικρῶν τὰς πόλεις· ἐν μὲν τοῖς ὀθνείοις πολέμοις τὸ διὰ τῶν ὅπλων κράτος, τοῦτο δὲ τόλμῃ παραγίνεσθαι καὶ μελέτῃ, ἐν δὲ ταῖς ἐμφυλίοις ταραχαῖς τὴν τῶν πολιτευομένων ὁμοφροσύνην, ταύτην δὲ τὸν σώφρονα καὶ δίκαιον ἑκάστου βίον ἀπέφηνεν ἱκανώτατον ὄντα τῷ κοινῷ παρασχεῖν. (...) μαχητὰς δέ γε καὶ δικαίους ἄνδρας καὶ τὰς ἄλλας ἀρετὰς ἐπιτηδεύοντας τὸ τῆς πολιτείας σχῆμα ποιεῖν τοῖς φρονίμως αὐτὸ καταστησαμένοις, μαλθακούς τε αὖ καὶ πλεονέκτας καὶ δούλους αἰσχρῶν ἐπιθυμιῶν τὰ πονηρὰ ἐπιτηδεύματα ἐπιτελεῖν. 72 The notion of ὁμόνοια between the Greeks is the main theme of the Panegyricus; cf. also Antidosis (77), To Philip (16, 31, 40, 83, 141), and Panathenaicus (77, 131, 16; these occurrences are cited in Romilly 1959: 98). 73 Romilly 1959: 98; Pownall 2007: 19-22. On the topic of unity of the Greeks against the barbarians in Isocrates see Papillon 2007: 63-65; Pownall 2007: 13-25 (dealing specifically with the concept of Panhellenism). 74 Cf. LSJ s.v. ὁμοφροσύνη: “= ὁμόνοια, unity of mind and feeling.”

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soul of a city is nothing other than its constitution, which has as much power over it as the mind has over the body.75

Isocrates goes on to praise the Athenian ancestral constitution—that is, the democratic government established by Solon and later renewed by Cleisthenes—as the most desirable form of government for the Athenians, as it allowed their city to become the most powerful in Hellas (7.15-17).76 As evident in the following portion of Romulus’s speech, this idea is also rooted in Dionysius’s conception, since he has the Roman people present the government of their forefathers as ideal for their newly founded city. Having remarked on the importance of choosing the most fitting constitution, Romulus offers three alternatives for the people to choose from—the three main types of government that were in use among the Greeks and the barbarians—specifying that each of them has some inherent defects (προσεῖναι δέ τινας ἑκάστῃ κῆρας συμφύτους, 2.3.7).

He then requested that, deliberating at leisure, they state whether they wished to be ruled by one man or by a few or, instituting laws [themselves], to entrust the management of the common affairs to everyone. “I, on the other hand,” he said “am ready for whichever constitution you establish and I neither consider myself unworthy of ruling nor refuse to be ruled. Concerning honors, then, I consider sufficient those which you have conferred upon me first by appointing me as leader of the colony, and next by giving the city a name derived from my own.77

In reply to Romulus’s proposal, the assembled people declare themselves to be unwilling to change the form of government approved by the forefathers (ὑπὸ τῶν πατέρων δοκιμασθεῖσαν), since “it granted us, when we were being ruled by kings, the greatest blessings among people: freedom and the rule over others” (ἣ παρέσχεν ἡμῖν βασιλευομένοις τὰ μέγιστα τῶν ἐν ἀνθρώποις ἀγαθῶν, ἐλευθερίαν τε καὶ ἄλλων ἀρχήν, 2.4.1)—conceivably referring here to the Alban kingdom. Besides the references to Isocrates, this passage also recalls the well-known constitutional debate presented in Book Three of Herodotus’ History (3.80-83)—although there is no detailed discussion here about advantages and flaws of the various constitutions (which are not even

75 Isoc. 7.13-14: καίτοι τὰς εὐπραγίας ἅπαντες ἴσμεν καὶ παραγιγνομένας καὶ παραμενούσας οὐ τοῖς τὰ τείχη κάλλιστα καὶ μέγιστα περιβεβλημένοις, (…) ἀλλὰ τοῖς ἄριστα καὶ σωφρονέστατα τὴν αὑτῶν πόλιν διοικοῦσιν. ἔστι γὰρ ψυχὴ πόλεως οὐδὲν ἔτερον ἢ πολιτεία, τοσαύτην ἔχουσα δύναμιν ὅσην περ ἐν σώματι φρόνησις. On this passage, cf. Konstan 2004: 115. 76 On the ancestral constitution see references below, at note 87. 77 RA 2.3.7-8: ἠξίου τε αὐτοὺς βουλευσαμένους ἐπὶ σχολῆς εἰπεῖν εἴτε ὑφ᾽ ἑνὸς ἄρχεσθαι θέλουσιν ἀνδρὸς εἴτε ὑπ᾽ ὀλίγων εἴτε νόμους καταστησάμενοι πᾶσιν ἀποδοῦναι τὴν τῶν κοινῶν προστασίαν. ἐγὼ δ᾽ ὑμῖν, ἔφη, πρὸς ἣν ἂν καταστήσησθε πολιτείαν εὐτρεπὴς καὶ οὔτε ἄρχειν ἀπαξιῶ οὔτε ἄρχεσθαι ἀναίνομαι. τιμῶν δέ, ἅς μοι προσεθήκατε ἡγεμόνα με πρῶτον ἀποδείξαντες τῆς ἀποικίας, ἔπειτα καὶ τῇ πόλει τὴν ἐπωνυμίαν ἐπ᾽ ἐμοῦ θέντες, ἅλις ἔχω.

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explicitly named).78 The Herodotean episode concerns the meeting between Otanes, Megabyzus, Darius, and four other Persian nobles after the massacre of the Magi, in which the conspirators set out in turn their opinion about what form of government should be imposed upon Persia. Each of them advocates on a constitutional form (respectively, the rule of the πλῆθος, oligarchy, and monarchy).79 In the end, Darius’s proposal of preserving monarchy prevails: “therefore I am of the view that we, who have been set free through one man, should maintain [the government] such as this and besides we should not repeal the laws of our fathers that are good; for this is not better.”80 Darius’s persuasive argument bears a striking similarity to that made in Dionysius’s account by the Roman people: monarchy is the most desirable form of government, for it guarantees freedom (from foreign domination)81 and was established by their ancestors. Valerie Fromentin has rightly emphasized how this passage constitutes an important preamble to the exposition of Romulus’s institutions (RA 2.7.9-30), since in his address Romulus reveals to his fellow citizens (or rather, subjects) “sa propre philosophie politique.”82 In the first part of his speech (2.3.1-6), Romulus outlines the principles that will guide his legislative activity: since the prosperity of a city depends on the citizens’ customs and these, in turn, depend on the constitution, Romulus will enact constitutional measures aimed at the communal pursuit of a moral lifestyle. In the second part of his speech (2.3.7-8), Romulus deals with the problem of the form of government that the city will receive, displaying an unusual indifference to the outcome of the people’s vote; as Fromentin argues, the use of the Herodotean reference—with the indication of three equally valid forms of government—indeed underscores this point.83 It is worth noting that Isocrates as well theorized in

78 Cf. Fromentin 2006: 233-4, who observes how in Dionysius there is no actual debate; Romulus poses a question to the people and the people decide on it ‘offstage’. Dionysius’s allusion to the flaws of the three main types of government is also suggestive of Polybius’s theorizations (see below, section 4.2.2 a). A veiled Herodotean parallel (Hdt. 1.5.4, brought to my attention by Frances Pownall) is found in the opening of Dionysius’s passage too, namely, the allusion to the growth of the cities from a previous condition of lesser importance or dimension (μεγάλας ἐκ μικρῶν τὰς πόλεις, RA 2.3.3 above; cf. discussion at chap. 5.2.2 a). 79 In this respect, the episode represents “the earliest example of comparative constitutional analysis” (borrowing Winton’s definition, 2000: 108). 80 Hdt. 3.82.5: ἔχω τοίνυν γνώμην ἡμέας ἐλευθερωθέντας διὰ ἕνα ἄνδρα τὸ τοιοῦτο περιστέλλειν, χωρίς τε τούτου πατρίους νόμους μὴ λύειν ἔχοντας εὖ· οὐ γὰρ ἄμεινον. The Herodotean debate is referenced again at RA 4.72 (see chap. 5.1.2). The “one man” mentioned here is Cyrus, who freed the Persian state from the subjugation to the Medes (cf. Winton 2000: 109). 81 The sense of ἐλευθερία as a condition of political independence for the city, and in fact of rule over other states, can be inferred by Dionysius’s pairing of the terms in the phrase ἐλευθερίαν τε καὶ ἄλλων ἀρχήν (2.4.1, quoted above). On the notion of liberty and democracy in Dionysius cf. Edlund 1976: 28-31. 82 Fromentin 2006: 238. 83 Fromentin 2006: 239-40. On Romulus’s speech cf. also Wiater 2011a: 176-7.

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the Panathenaicus that all three types of constitutions (democracy, oligarchy, and monarchy) were equally valid, provided that they were led by the most competent people (12.132-3).84 Ultimately the use of Greek precedents (Isocrates, Herodotus, but also Thucydides, Plato, Aristotle, and Polybius; cf. next section) serves to assert the political superiority of the Romans, who are depicted by Dionysius as founding their early government on upright principles, well- known to Greek political thought, and—quite an astonishing detail—as freely choosing their form of government by common agreement. Dionysius indicates the establishment of monarchy as the result of a popular deliberation, an aspect that is absent from the other extant sources writing about Rome’s foundation. No surviving account ever questions the immediate election of Romulus as king of Rome; his election is generally implicit and appears as a natural consequence of his brother’s death (cf., e.g., Liv. 1.7.3, and Plut. Rom. 11.1; Diod. 8.6.1; Dio in Zon. 7.3, and Ioann. Antioch. fr. 32 M).85 The notion that the Romans want to keep with their ancestral form of government is also important. It suggests that Dionysius possibly intended to present the early Roman constitution not as an abrupt creation, but as a system already “tested” (cf. the use of the verb δοκιμασθεῖσαν at RA 2.4.1, above) and functioning under the Alban kings. The reference to the Herodotean text is here compelling: Darius also contends that the ancestral customs work well (πατρίους νόμους μὴ λύειν ἔχοντας εὖ, Hdt. 3.82.5 above) and ought not to be changed. But while Darius concludes that monarchy is the best form of government because all the other forms eventually ‘degenerate’ into a monarchy,86 in Dionysius there is no such acknowledgment. All the forms of government are presented by Romulus as equally problematic; the final decision (though echoing Darius’s words) appears entirely based on the Romans’ willingness to comply with their ancestral customs.87 The aim of this debate, then, is evidently to show that the Roman constitution (regardless of its actual form) was even in its early stage ‘established’ and well functioning. This concept is echoed in the account of the foundation of the Republic, where the constitution is

84 Cf. Gray 2000: 146-51; Konstan 2004: 120; Pownall 2007: 18. As Gray underlines, the idea that the quality of the management was more important than the type of constitution was shared by Xenophon (cf. Cyr. 1.1; Ages. 1.4). 85 Cf. Fromentin 2004, esp. 311-7 on the elective character of the Roman monarchy and the stress on the twofold sanction (moral and political) that Romulus receives in this portion of the RA. 86 Cf. Winton 2000: 210-1. 87 This idea may also draw on the above-mentioned notion of ancestral constitution (πάτριος πολιτεία) and ancestral laws, as formulated, e.g., by Isocrates (7.15-17), Xenophon (Hell. 2.4.42), and Aristotle (Ath. Pol. 29.3), with reference to the political situation in Athens in the tormented years following the Peloponnesian conflict. Cf. Fuks 1953, esp. 33-83; Finley 1987: 34-59; cf. discussion at chap. 4.2.1.

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presented as changing name and form, but as keeping with its ancestral, monarchical essence (see chap. 5.1.2). Besides Greek literary influences, Romulus’s speech, and especially his concluding words concerning his readiness to be ruled by others, should that be the people’s deliberation, as well as his claimed satisfaction with the honours already bestowed, may also invite a comparison with a popular Augustan theme and Augustus’s self-presentation in the Res Gestae. As mentioned in his opening chapter, Augustus ostentatiously undertook to return his power to the senate and the Roman people after his victory over Antony, even though his rule had been granted “by universal consent” (per consensum universorum, RG 34.1), and he displayed modesty in accepting offices and tasks given by the senate (cf., e.g., RG 5.2, non sum deprecatus, and 6.2).88 While there is no substantial evidence supporting the idea that Dionysius is specifically alluding to Augustus’s public behaviour here, it is nevertheless conceivable that the latter had some influence on his description of Romulus’s election, which comprises comparable motifs for both Romulus’s attitude and the people’s unanimity in bestowing supreme power upon him.

4.2.2 The Constitution of Romulus

After setting out the inspiring principles that will be at the basis of Romulus’s government and constitutional activity, Dionysius goes on to describe the momentous creation of all the basic civil and religious institutions of the newly founded city. The Romulean constitution is presented as an all-encompassing body of laws covering every aspect of Roman public and private life.89 Dionysius’s account can be organized into three thematic parts: the first group of measures

88 Cf. chap. 1.3 with n. 81 for references. On these passages from the Res gestae and their interpretative “opaqueness” cf. Cooley 2009, respectively, 257-60, 129, 131-2. 89 As mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, the idea of Romulus as king-legislator is not exclusive to Dionysius; it also emerges from Cicero’s interpretation of Romulus’s kingdom in the De re publica (cf. 2.12-18); Like Dionysius (see below, n. 91), Cicero too mentions Lycurgus as a precedent for Romulus’s government (Rep. 2.15) and appears to share Dionysius’s conservative viewpoint in depicting Romulus as a pro-senatorial figure (cf. Rep. 2.14: Romulus patrum auctoritate consilioque regnavit; cf. Gabba 1991: 163-4). Unlike Dionysius, however, Cicero does not regard the Roman constitution as Romulus’s exclusive attainment, but rather holds the first king as its initiator—or, as Balsdon puts it, as “the first of the great statesmen whose work found ultimate fulfilment in the Roman mixed constitution” (1971: 26). According to Cicero, the superiority of the Roman constitution was due to its gradual development and to the contribution to its improvement of many statesmen, who adapted aspects of the constitution to specific problems (Rep. 2.2, 2.37; a similar view had been already expressed by Polybius, see next section; cf. Gabba 1991: 204-5; Sordi 1993, esp. 115-8; Wiater 2011a: 174-5, 180-5; Pelling 2016: 159-61; on the mixed constitution in the De re publica see Lintott 1997: 81-85, 1999: 220-5).

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concerns the administrative division of the citizens, the definition of their social statuses and roles, and the creation of the civic bodies with their respective obligations (2.7-2.14); the second group contains initiatives aimed at the growth of the population (2.15-2.17); and the third group regulates the moral behavior of the citizens, including religious norms and guidelines for marriage and the family (2.18-2.30). In the following subsections, I will consider general trends emerging from each group of institutions, their significance in the framework of the Roman Antiquities and Dionysius’s cultural project, and how they contribute to shaping Romulus’s portrait. a) Roman Antiquities 2.7-2.14 In the discussion of the first group of initiatives, Dionysius describes the distribution of the people into tribes and curiae (2.7), the distinction between patricians and plebeians (2.8), the assignment of duties and privileges to the two groups (2.9), the institution of the clientela (2.10-11), the creation of the senate (2.12) and of the celeres (2.13), and the division of powers between the different political bodies (2.14). From the analysis of Dionysius’s text, (at least) two notable features emerge: first, throughout this narrative Dionysius maintains an aristocratic viewpoint, according to which power and offices are held by the patrician elite as a just and almost natural privilege and civil concord is preserved thanks to the patrician control over the masses;90 and secondly, Dionysius depicts the early Roman government as a prototype of the mixed constitution, which is presented as highly effective not only because of Romulus’s wise division of powers, but also because of his use of (and improvement on) Greek institutions. The parallel with these is continually brought up in this portion of Dionysius’s account with, possibly, a twofold aim: to claim the Greek derivation of the Roman institutions and, in the end, to stress the superiority of the Roman versions over the Greek originals. In addition, the frequent references to Greek institutions likely had the effect of presenting the Roman customs and offices in a familiar form to the Greek readers—who would have more promptly associated the origins and functions of the two sets of institutions—as well as promoting an image of Romulus as a Greek-type lawgiver comparable to Cleisthenes or Lycurgus.91

90 On this point cf. the comparable conception expressed in Thuc. 2.65 about how Pericles managed to exercise his control over the masses (I thank Frances Pownall for pointing out this parallel). 91 The comparison with Cleisthenes is suggested by Smith: “For Dionysius, the Romulean constitution is one of institutions which divided neatly, like the Cleisthenic constitution, with tribes divided into curiae, as the trittyes were divided into phratries” (2006: 194, cf. also 121-6). On the other hand—as Pownall has noted—Isocrates shows much favour in his orations to Cleisthenes and his innovative government, crediting him with the expulsion of the Peisistratids in place of the tyrannicides Aristogeiton and Harmodius (2012: 239-44; cf. Too 1995: 212); it is

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Through a first major division of the population, Romulus, we are told, creates three tribes and subdivides them into ten curiae each. To the thirty curiae equal portions of public land are allocated (2.7.2-4). In the Roman historical and antiquarian tradition, the curiae were thought of as lying at the very foundations of the ancient Roman community;92 thus, Dionysius was drawing on a well-established tradition in ascribing their creation to Romulus. In his account, however, Dionysius assimilates the tribes and curiae, as fundamental units of the Roman citizenry and army, respectively to the Athenian φυλαί and τριττύες, and to the φρατρίαι (2.7.3). As C.J. Smith observes, Dionysius appears to attribute great importance to the curiae and conceives of their purpose in Roman society in idiosyncratic terms: “He alone mentions them whenever there is an incorporation of new citizens, and he appears to think that admission to a curia was a requirement of citizenship. (This may be a consequence of Dionysius’s conception of the curiae as like the Greek phratries, which did have such an admission process).”93 The admission of new citizens to Rome will be treated in the next section; however, it is important to emphasize here how Dionysius employs the association with Greek institutions to reinforce his point that Rome was a Greek city (cf. RA 1.89.1) by asserting that the early Roman citizenry was organized, in its basic structures, as that of the sixth-century Athens. Greek references are again used by Dionysius to suggest that in dividing the population between patricians and plebeians Romulus took his inspiration from the Athenian constitution (cf. 2.8.1: ἐκ τῆς Ἀθηναίων πολιτείας...τὸ παράδειγμα λαβών), and in particular from the division, of Aristotelean flavour, between the ‘well-born’ (εὐπατρίδαι) and those employed in rural work (ἀγροῖκοι, 2.8.2).94 The patricians are defined by Dionysius as the descendants of the “fathers,”

conceivable that his views on Cleisthenes influenced Dionysius’s description of Rome’s first king and law-giver, and in particular the attribution to him of the administrative divisions of the city. The comparison with Lycurgus, instead, is hinted at by Dionysius himself, who refers to the Spartan king multiple times (cf. e.g., 2.23.3, 2.49.4, and 2.61.2 on Numa). Cf. also Delcourt’s assessment: “Denys dépeint donc Romulus sous les traits d’un oeciste grec” (2005: 269, cf. 268-71, and 175-80 on the comparison between Romulus and Lycurgus). 92 On the creation of the curiae, see references at n. 12. On the creation of the tribes, cf. Varr. LL 5.55; also, Gell. NA 18.7.5; see Cornell 1995: 114-5; Forsythe 2005: 113-4; Smith 2006: 186-90. 93 Smith 2006: 195; see whole discussion at 192-8; cf. 121-2 with n. 22: Smith points out the similarity between Dionysius’s text and a fragmentary passage from the Constitution of the Athenians, where Aristotle relates that before Cleisthenes the Athenian population was divided into four φυλαί, and each φυλή into three parts called τριττύες and φρατρίαι; for each of the latter there were thirty γενή of thirty men (Lexicon Patm. p. 152 Sakkel). 94 On Dionysius’s use of the Aristotelean model in this text, see Gabba 1960: 183, and 1991: 168-72 (discussed below), with detailed references to the relevant Aristotelean passages; cf. Smith 2006: 193-4, who suggests a parallel between the Dionysian passage and Arist. Ath. Pol. 13.2. On Romulus’s division of the Roman people into patricians and plebeians, cf. Cic. Rep. 2.23; Plut. Rom. 13. On the relevant Roman tradition (which I do not discuss here), see, in particular, Richard 2005: 107-27, with discussion of previous scholarship; also, Cornell 1995: 242-52; Forsythe 2005: 157-70; Mitchell 2005, esp. 128-32, with extensive bibliographical references.

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who in turn, are “those who were notable by birth and commended for virtue and well-provided with wealth as things went back then, who already had offspring” (τοὺς ἐπιφανεῖς κατὰ γένος καὶ δι᾽ ἀρετὴν ἐπαινουμένους καὶ χρήμασιν ὡς ἐν τοῖς τότε καιροῖς εὐπόρους, οἷς ἤδη παῖδες ἦσαν, 2.8.1).95 By Romulus’s law, these men “are assigned priesthoods, public offices, the administration of justice, and they are to assist him in governing common affairs as their specific occupation, remaining in charge of the city’s affairs” (cf. 2.9.1: τοὺς μὲν εὐπατρίδας ἱερᾶσθαί τε καὶ ἄρχειν καὶ δικάζειν καὶ μεθ᾽ ἑαυτοῦ τὰ κοινὰ πράττειν ἐπὶ τῶν κατὰ τὴν πόλιν ἔργων μένοντας). The patricians are set apart “from the obscure and lowly and those without means” (ἀπὸ τῶν ἀσήμων καὶ ταπεινῶν καὶ ἀπόρων, 2.8.1), namely, the plebeians. Like the Athenian ἀγροῖκοι (see below) the plebeians are to apply themselves to farming, breeding animals, and trading (cf. 2.9.1: γεωργεῖν δὲ καὶ κτηνοτροφεῖν καὶ τὰς χρηματοποιοὺς ἐργάζεσθαι τέχνας). The purpose of this careful division of the population according to means and duties, Dionysius suggests, is to prevent the outbreak of seditions (ἵνα μὴ στασιάζωσιν, ibid.). For the same reason, the plebeians are placed under the direct guidance of the patricians as their clients in a relationship of πατρωνεία (RA 2.9.2- 2.11.1), that is, the Roman clientela (discussed below). The creation and maintenance of aristocratic (patrician) privileges is therefore aimed at the preservation of civil concord. Gabba observes how the parallel with the Athenian division of the population is in fact used by Dionysius to foster a particular picture of early Roman society, which explains the pre-eminence of the patricians through the lens of the Aristotelian theories on the ideal constitution.96 In a well-known passage of his Politics, Aristotle identifies different categories of people that are virtually present in every state (farmers, artisans, warriors, magistrates and judges, and priests), but contends that in the ideal state the citizens cannot be involved in manual labour or trade if they are to participate in politics and cultivate civic virtue, since these pursuits require

95 The definition of patricians gives Dionysius the opportunity to clarify once more, against Rome’s ‘detractors’ (cf. RA 2.8.3), that the Romans had no obscure origins (see RA 1.4.2, chap. 2.1.3 a, c, and RA 1.89.1, chap. 4.2.1). According to Dionysius, patricians were those who had children and/or were of noble birth (RA 2.8.1), and not those who, alone among the Romans, could point to their fathers (2.8.3-4). Cf. the etymology of patricians given in Liv. 10.8.10: “...not men sent from heaven were first created patricians but those who can name their father, that is, nothing more than freeborn” (...patricios primo esse factos non de caelo demissos sed qui patrem ciere possent, id est, nihil ultra quam ingenuos). Plutarch provides three basic explanations for the term. The patricians were: 1) the fathers of lawful children; 2) those (the few) who knew the identity of their fathers (as in Livy; a hypothesis that is not rejected by Plutarch); 3) those, whom the common people ought to regard as fatherly figures on account of their honours and cares (Plut. Rom. 13.2-3). Cf. discussion in Gabba 1991: 199-200; see also ref. above, n. 94. 96 Gabba 1991: 168-72. Gabba also notices that Dionysius’s description contrasts with other current conceptions of early Roman society, where the patricians are typically described as peasants and small landowners down, at least, to the third century BC (cf., e.g., Cic. Rep. 2.16; Gabba 1991: 168 with n. 22).

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leisure (σχολή); therefore, only those with means can be citizens and just people, since they have enough free time to practice virtue and to look after public and religious matters (as well as serve in the army in their youth); agriculture and crafts are restricted to people without means, slaves, and foreigners (Arist. Pol. 7.1328b-1329a).97 Echoing this idea, Dionysius has Romulus assign managerial jobs to the patricians (who are indeed the well born, wealthy, and virtuous) and manual labour to the plebeians. The exclusion of the plebeians from governing depends on both their inexperience and their small means, which condemn them to a life of toil without the leisure (ἀσχόλους) to engage in other activities (RA 2.9.1). The implication, transposed in Aristotelian terms, is that the poor are unfit to govern because they are unable to develop virtue. In applying the Aristotelean model to early Roman society, however, Dionysius also complicates it. After describing the distribution of occupations to patricians and plebeians, he clarifies that Romulus assigned sedentary and manual crafts not to the latter, but to slaves and foreigners, since such activities could promote base passions, and he reserved agriculture and military duties to citizens as complementary (not as separate) activities (RA 2.28.1-2, also discussed in subsection 4.2.2 c).98 While the appointment of slaves and foreigners to manual crafts corresponds to Aristotle’s principle as well as the traditional Roman disdain for manual labour and trade,99 here Dionysius indirectly rectifies the image of the plebeians previously depicted (cf. RA 2.8.1) by implying that—in spite of their low condition—as Roman citizens they were occupied in dignified activities (namely, agriculture and war). Furthermore, when discussing the institution of clientela, Dionysius constructs a synergistic and highly idealized relationship between patricians and plebeians, in which the two groups interact in a quasi-symbiotic association based on reciprocal goodwill (εὐνοία) and resulting in a durable, widespread harmony (cf. RA 2.10- 11).100 This picture is also intended to contrast the Roman institution, as a model of political

97 On Aristotle’s Politics, see, among the most recent publications, the essays in Deslauriers and Destrée 2013 (eds): e.g., Rosler 146-53 on civic virtue; Destreé 308-16 on the importance of leisure; Deslauriers 117-43 on the concept of inequality to create political unity; and the essays in Lockwood and Samaras 2015 (eds.): e.g., Schütrumpf 163-83 on the distribution of political power and justice; Ober 224-43 on Aristotle’s description of the best possible city. 98 Gabba notices this difference in 1991: 170-1. 99 Cf., e.g., Cicero’s assessment in Off. 1.150-1. 100 See, in particular, the concluding words of this section: “And the competition of goodwill about not being left behind in reciprocal favour was greatly extraordinary on both sides, as the clients thought it appropriate to render every service to their patrons according to their capacity, and the patricians being very little inclined to trouble their clients and accepting no gift of money; in this way their life was in control of every pleasure and measured happiness by virtue, not by fortune” (ὅ τε ἀγὼν ὑπὲρ τῆς εὐνοίας ὑπὲρ τοῦ μὴ λειφθῆναι τῆς ἀλλήλων χάριτος ἔκτοπος ἡλίκος ἀμφοτέροις ἦν, τῶν μὲν πελατῶν ἅπαντα τοῖς προστάταις ἀξιούντων ὡς δυνάμεως εἶχον ὑπηρετεῖν, τῶν δὲ πατρικίων ἥκιστα βουλομένων τοῖς πελάταις ἐνοχλεῖν χρηματικήν τε οὐδεμίαν δωρεὰν προσιεμένων· οὕτως

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wisdom, with the reality of the Greek cities, in which wealthy and poor classes were not able to cooperate and reach a comparable condition of concord. In fact, the Greek practice—as Dionysius claims citing the examples of Thessaly and Athens—was characterized by the unequal and harsh treatment of the individuals termed as clients, who were held in a condition resembling slavery (cf. RA 2.9.2).101 The notion of superiority of the Roman early institutions is heightened by the remark, which closes the section concerning πατρωνεία, on the incredibly long duration of internal peace at Rome: “To such an extent, then, was harmony among the Romans steady, which had its origin from the customs established by Romulus, that they never proceeded to mutual bloodshed and slaughter during six hundred and thirty years.”102 Dionysius, then, uses and adapts Greek political theories to depict the early Roman state as an ideal society ruled by the best possible regime and governed by ὁμόνοια, an aspect that marks Rome out not only as superior to the other Greek cities, which had been variously afflicted by endemic civil conflicts,103 but—in its structures and governing principles—as itself a Greek city. The idea that early Roman society was founded on harmony is elaborated on in Dionysius’s description of both the creation of the senate and of the royal bodyguard (the celeres), who are all

ἐγκρατὴς ὁ βίος ἦν αὐτοῖς ἁπάσης ἡδονῆς καὶ τὸ μακαρίον ἀρετῇ μετρῶν, οὐ τύχῃ, RA 2.10.4). The notion of goodwill (εὐνοία) is recurrent in Isocrates’s orations, too, although the Athenian orator uses it mostly with reference to Greek foreign relations (see Romilly 1959: 92-101). On the origin and nature of patronage cf. Plut. Rom. 13.5, who substantially agrees with Dionysius on the idyllic bond that tied patrons and clients in the early times. On the curiae and patronage as institutions aimed at maintaining όμόνοια between citizens, see Delcourt 2005: 279-87. 101 Gabba 1991: 171. 102 RA 2.11.2: οὕτω δὲ ἄρα βέβαιος ἦν ἡ Ῥωμαίων ὁμόνοια τὴν ἀρχὴν ἐκ τῶν ὑπὸ Ῥωμύλου κατασκευασθέντων λαβοῦσα ἐθῶν, ὥστε οὐδέποτε δι᾽ αἵματος καὶ φόνου τοῦ κατ᾽ ἀλλήλων ἐχώρησαν ἐντὸς ἑξακοσίων καὶ τριάκοντα ἐτῶν. Such harmony is said to have been continually shattered since the time of C. Gracchus, who during his tribunate “destroyed the orderly status of the government” (διέφθειρε τὴν τοῦ πολιτεύματος ἁρμονίαν, 2.11.3). As mentioned above (chap. 4.2.1), the emphasis on civil harmony and durable peace among the Romans recurs frequently in Dionysius’s history; besides the present occurrences, it is treated at great length in the account of C. Marcius Coriolanus’s political career and defection (7.20-8.62), which constitutes in Dionysius’s view the first serious stasis that endangered internal stability at Rome. Gabba and Sordi regard the mention of C. Gracchus’s tribunate here as evidence for Dionysius’s use of a late Republican source (the source being of Sullan age, according to Gabba 1960: 218-20, and 1991: 162-4; cf. Sordi 1993: 111-20; on Dionysius’s passage cf. also Noè 1979, esp. 27- 46; Gabba 1991: 202-3, 211-2). The idea that until the time of the Gracchi civil dissention had always been solved amicably occurs also in Appian (who also cites Coriolanus as the only case of sedition at Rome in ancient times, cf. BC 1.1-2), and Florus, who eliminates instances of social struggle from his account of the Early and Middle Republic and singles out the Gracchan sedition as the abrupt beginning of civil conflict (see Ten Berge, forthcoming, cited with kind permission of the author. Ten Berge suggestively argues that “attributing the civil wars to peculiar circumstances rather than persistent problems allows [Florus] to claim that with Augustus (whose actions are thoroughly sanitized), those circumstances were removed”). 103 The state of prevalent discord among the Greeks constituted a prominent theme in both Isocrates’s orations (cf., e.g., Paneg. 114-16; de Pace 96; Phil. 107; Panath. 258-9; cf. Pownall 2007: 19-20) and fifth-century BC Greek thought (cf. Tell 2011: 61-92). Cf. discussion on Isocrates’s political thought at chap. 4.2.1, above.

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selected, among the wealthy, on the basis of personal merit (cf. RA 2.12-13),104 and the distribution of powers among the political organs (RA 2.14, below). Civil harmony is presented by Dionysius as the result of the effective system of government put in place by Romulus, which comprises a fair distribution of duties to the citizens according to their individual status and education (as well as morals), and a balanced division of powers between the king, the senate, and the popular assembly, according to the basic operating principles of the mixed constitution. In chapter 2.14, Dionysius relates how Romulus distributed specific powers to each political element: to the king he gave control over all religious matters, the guardianship of laws and customs, the right to summon the senate and the popular assembly, and absolute command in war (2.14.1). To the senate Romulus assigned the right to deliberate and to vote upon every decision of the king, whose power could thus be restricted (2.14.2).105 Lastly, on the popular assembly (namely, the comitia curiata) Romulus bestowed three privileges: the election of magistrates, the ratification of laws, and occasionally the vote on declarations of war. The power of the people was not unlimited, however, as their decisions had to be ratified by the senate (2.14.3). Therefore, while each element had a certain autonomy in taking political initiatives, it was also subject to the others’ sanction and possible veto. This separation of powers and, at the same time, the possibility of reciprocal interference and checks between the three elements, correspond closely to the functioning of the mixed constitution, and in particular to the theoretical model developed by Polybius in the mid-second century BC, which significantly informs Dionysius’s ideas. First advanced by Thucydides (8.97.2), the notion of the mixing of constitutions was elaborated and exploited in late fifth- and fourth-century BC Athens by statesmen, philosophers, and intellectuals,106 eventually receiving theoretical systematization in the works of Plato and

104 The creation of both bodies is related by Dionysius to Greek institutions (respectively, the γερουσία, 2.12.3-4, and the body of three hundred noble youth that attended the Spartan kings, 2.13.4). Plutarch explains the meaning of ‘senate’ in the similar terms (Rom. 13.2): “senate in fact means precisely council of elders” (ὁ μὲν οὖν σενᾶτος ἀτρεκῶς γερουσίαν σημαίνει). On the celeres cf. Liv. 1.15.8; Pliny NH 33.35; Plut. Rom. 26.2, Num. 7.4; Fest. 48 L; Serv. Aen. 9.368, 11.603. On Romulus’s creation of the first one hundred senators, cf. Prop. 4.1.14; Ov. Fast. 3.127; Vell. 1.8.6; Plut. Rom. 13.1; Fest. 454 L; Serv. Aen. 8.105. See Ogilvie 1965: 63-64. These first members of the senate are called by Dionisius “conscript fathers” (πατέρες ἔγγραφοι, RA 2.12.3; cf. 2.47.1-4); cf. Liv. 2.1.11, and Plut. Rom. 13.4, who call “conscript fathers” the members later added to the senate; cf. Musti 1989: 207-27; Mitchell 2005: 130, 145-6. 105 Dionysius compares this system of government to the Spartan constitution, in which the power of the kings was not absolute but limited by the deliberations of the γερουσία (2.14.2). On the mixed character of the Romulean constitution in the RA, cf. Delcourt 2005: 284-7. 106 Cf. Lintott 1997: 70; Cartledge 2000: 19-20; Hahm 2009: 178-80.

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especially of Aristotle.107 Despite different conceptual constructions, in its basic outline the mixed constitution involved three distinct bodies of government (a king/supreme leader(s), a restricted body of wealthy and/or mature citizens, and an assembly of the people) who cooperated in decision making and, in case of lack of cooperation, could check the action of one another. It was therefore not a proper monarchy or an oligarchy or a democracy, but rather a combination or blend of their features. Besides the obvious advantage of supporting (or, on the contrary, of moderating) the initiatives of the single bodies, this system enabled (almost) all the segments of society to be politically represented and thus to participate in the government of a city. According to Plato, the ideal constitution was a midway between democracy and monarchy (Laws 6.756e-757a), whereas Aristotle advocated a mixture of oligarchy and democracy, laying greater emphasis on the moral aspects and the virtue (especially military, cf. Pol. 4.1297a-b) of the citizens (Pol. 4.1293b-1294a), and named this ‘correct form’ of constitution πολιτεία. Both Plato and Aristotle supported the idea of progress and degeneration through constitutions, but Aristotle’s construct included a larger variety of possible constitutional variants.108 An advanced model of mixed constitution is found—about two centuries after Aristotle— in the history of Polybius, who applied Greek political ideas to the mid-Republican Roman government and likely had a profound influence on Dionysius’s conception of the Roman constitution.109 Like Aristotle before him, Polybius identifies three correct and three deviant types of constitution, which—in his model—evolve naturally in a cyclic progression through all six types (Polyb. 6.3-9).110 The Romans, according to Polybius, achieved a most efficient system of government, because they retained the best characteristics from monarchy (represented by the consular power), aristocracy (the senate), and democracy (the people), which created balance through their reciprocal cooperation and restraining influence (cf. 6.15-18). Polybius discusses the respective prerogatives of these political bodies in three consecutive passages (6.12-14), supplying a clear precedent for Dionysius’s depiction of Romulus’s distribution of powers between the king,

107 See, in particular, Plato’s Laws and Aristotle’s Politics. For a concise discussion about their views on the mixed constitution, see Hahm 2009: 180-90 with previous references; on Aristotle’s elaboration of this doctrine, see Balot 2015: 103-22; cf. also Lintott 1997: 71-72, 1999: 214-8. Cf. Isoc. 7.130-3, where Isocrates defines the three basic types of regime and argues that each type functions well when the best men are in charge; and 7.153, where he mentions the constitution of the Spartans under Lycurgus and the Athenian ancestral constitution as examples of democracy tempered with aristocracy. On Isocrates’s views on the constitution, see Konstan 2004: 107-24. 108 On Plato’s and Aristotle’s theories, see references at n. 107, above. 109 On the comparison between Dionysius’s and Polybius’s views on the Roman constitution, see Wiater 2011a: 194-8; Pelling 2016: 155-6, 158-61. On the relationship between their works in general, cf. chap. 2.1.3 a with n. 58. 110 See Lintott 1997, esp. 73-80, 1999: 16-26, 217-9; Champion 2004: 67-70, 80-92; Hahm 2009: 190-6.

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the senate, and the people,111 as well as the idea that the three political organs could restrain the action of one another (RA 2.14). Dionysius’s conclusion— “from this division not only did the political affairs receive a sensible and orderly administration, but the military matters also received a speedy and obedient one”112—is pervaded by the idea that the concord governing early Roman society (and enduring until the late Republic, cf. RA 2.11.3) depended on the balanced mixture of powers created by Romulus’s government. In Polybius’s conception, however, the Roman constitution was not the product of a single creation, like the Spartan constitution established by Lycurgus; its strength and perfection derived from its evolution through struggles (cf. 6.4.13 and 6.10). The Romans were able, in this way, to slow down the inevitable corruption that eventually befell their constitution, as happened with the constitutions of other cities before Rome (6.43-52). This point is clearly at odds with Dionysius’s overall depiction of Romulus’s legislative activity and of the Roman constitution as an en bloc creation. Nevertheless, the notion of development of the constitution is to some extent present in Dionysius’s history as well: as I shall discuss in the last chapter, Dionysius—through a strikingly original elaboration—presents the establishment of the Republican constitution as an enhancement of the ancestral one through the modification of its formal aspects (see chap. 5.1.2, with particular reference to RA 4.73-74). b) Roman Antiquities 2.15-2.17 With the second group of measures ascribed to Romulus, Dionysius introduces another essential theme to his construction of Rome’s early history: the notion of φιλανθρωπία as the farsighted policy initiated by Romulus of including subjected peoples into the Roman community, which aimed at the increase of the population and thus of the reserve of manpower for war.113 This policy is mentioned twice in the Roman Antiquities’ preface as a distinctive Roman feature, as Dionysius

111 In particular, Polybius underlines the monarchic nature of the power of the consuls, which is especially manifest in the conduct of war, where their authority is almost unlimited (6.12.3, 9; cf. RA 2.14.1). As for the senate, Polybius stresses its role in financial and judicial matters and in foreign politics (6.13). The people decide on capital punishment, confer honours, approve laws, and vote on wars (6.14; cf. RA 2.14.3). 112 RA 2.14.4: ἐκ δὲ τῆς διαιρέσεως ταύτης οὐ μόνον τὰ πολιτικὰ πράγματα σώφρονας ἐλάμβανε καὶ τεταγμένας τὰς διοικήσεις, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ πολεμικὰ ταχείας καὶ εὐπειθεῖς. 113 On φιλανθρωπία in the RA cf. Poma 1989: 187-205, 1981: 71-73. The notion of φιλανθρωπία as a political approach having as primary objective the acquisition of workforce and soldiers is further discussed by Dionysius in Book Three, in the speech that King Tullus Hostilius gives in reply to the Alban leader Mettius Fufetius as they try to decide which of the two cities should have the supremacy. Mettius argues that the Romans, being a mixed population because of their practice of giving citizenship to everybody, including slaves and lowborn people, should not have the right to rule over the Albans, who had retained the purity of their Greek lineage (3.10.4-5). Hostilius then stresses that this practice was in fact Greek in origin, and, in addition, that the Romans did not consider nobility a matter of birth but of virtue (cf. 3.11.3-6, in evident contradiction to what is stated at 2.8.1).

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claims that Rome’s growth was enabled “through kindly reception [of] and by giving a share in citizenship to those with a virtuous mind who had been conquered in war” (φιλανθρώπῳ ὑποδοχῇ καὶ πολιτείας μεταδόσει τοῖς μετὰ τοῦ γενναίου ἐν πολέμῳ κρατηθεῖσι, 1.9.4; cf. 1.3.4). It is then developed in the account of the Romulean constitution through the discussion, in particular, of three initiatives enacted by Romulus with the specific purpose of making Rome “great and populous” (μεγάλην δὲ καὶ πολυάνθρωπον, 2.14.1): 1) the prohibition against exposing children who were not demonstrably maimed or monstrous (2.15.2); 2) the welcoming, through the institution of the asylum, of fugitives from other Italian towns, provided that they were freeborn (2.15.3-4); and 3) the bestowal of citizenship on war captives (2.16.1). The idea that φιλανθρωπία is highly valuable not only as individual behaviour, but also as a governmental tool—in Romulus’s case being a strategy to attract new citizens—is surely not new to Dionysius. In the Cyropaedia, Xenophon counts it among the main virtues of the political leader, describing it as a natural endowment of Cyrus. Xenophon indeed makes it clear that the political use of φιλανθρωπία does not preclude, as evident in Cyrus’s case, the ruler’s genuine love towards the people.114 Likewise, Romulus’s generosity is coupled here with extraordinary political wisdom, enabling him to benefit his citizens in the most advantageous way for the growth of the city. As Delcourt has convincingly argued, the first measure enacted by Romulus with the aim of increasing the Roman population appears both as a reference to his own exposure as an infant and as an implicit critique of the ancient Spartan constitution. According to Plutarch’s Life of Lycurgus, the Spartan king established the practice of exposing weak newborns at the foot of Mount Taygetus, in the conviction that they would not have benefited the state if they grew up with poor health and strength (cf. Plut. Lyc. 16.1-2). If this report was known to Dionysius, then the insertion of this measure in his account could be interpreted as a subtle criticism of the efficacy of Lycurgus’s eugenic practice, which was supposedly aimed at the betterment of the population. The Romans, by limiting the right of exposure only to severe cases of deformity, proved the Spartans wrong, showing that the numeric (not the qualitative) increase of the people was crucial to the state’s advancement.115

114 See Danzig 2012, esp. 509-11 (with previous references), and Tamiolaki 2012, esp. 574-6. 115 Cf. Delcourt 2005: 288, and 174-95 on the comparison between the Roman and the Spartan constitutions.

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As for the second measure, Romulus’s institution of an asylum for fugitives corresponds to a widely attested practice in the ancient Italic and Greek world,116 and features as a traditional element of Rome’s foundation legend.117 According to the well-known version related by Livy, in this sacred space Romulus welcomed an assorted crowd of slaves and vagabonds:

In order to increase the population of those who founded cities, who after attracting to them an obscure and lowly multitude pretended that they were offspring born of the earth, according to an old practice, he opened a place...as an asylum. To it there fled from the neighbouring nations an entire rabble without distinction as to whether they were freeborn or slaves, being greedy for social revolution, and this was the first major element in the raising greatness [of the city].118

As Emma Dench observes, Livy emphasizes the lowly status of the asylum’s inhabitants; such emphasis may be understood within the “developmental model” that Livy elaborates for his account of early Rome with its “morally ambivalent scheme of growth.”119 In other words, Livy depicts for the early inhabitants of Rome a state of quasi savagery and lack of civilization, which he links to a pristine condition of moral uprightness; cultural progress and development—while paralleling Rome’s advancement—have slowly brought with them the decline of morals and customs. This view finds comparisons in contemporary descriptions of the early inhabitants of Latium as a rustic people living in an idyllic golden age, and is conceivably a side product of the troubled political situation of the late Republic with its perceived moral corruption.120 On the other hand, while the story of the asylum was surely an old element of the Romulus legend, the idea of

116 Cf., e.g., Mastrocinque 2012: 131-8, with previous bibliography. Mastrocinque argues that the Livian account of Romulus’s asylum, which included the welcoming of slaves, may reflect the practice (attested in numerous Italian towns) of freeing slaves in sacred spaces. This practice finds a parallel with the liberation of fugitive slaves in the grove of Aricia, which was sacred to Diana Nemorensis, and with the consecration (again to Diana) of an asylum for slaves on the Aventine by Servius Tullius (cf. Fest. 460 L). While Livy does not state explicitly that Romulus freed slaves in the asylum, he counts the slaves arrived there among the early citizens of the newly-founded city. 117 Cf., e.g., Cat. Orig. Peter F20 = Cornell F117 = Gell. NA 18.12.7; Cic. De Or. 1.37; Strab. 5.3.2, C 230; Verg. Aen. 8.342-3; Ov. Fast. 3.431-4; Vell. 1.8.5; Dio 47.19.3; Serv. Aen. 2.761, 8.342. The asylum was located between two groves, in the area between the Capitol and the citadel (RA 2.15.3, cf. Liv. 1.8.5, inter duos lucos). On the origin of the asylum, see Mastrocinque 1993: 104-14; Dench 2005: 15-20. Cf. Loraux 2000: 21-23 on the constitution of the Athenian genos from the coming together of noble foreign families (mentioned in Herodotus and Thucydides). 118 Liv. 1.8.5-6: adiciendae multitudinis causa uetere consilio condentium urbes, qui obscuram atque humilem conciendo ad se multitudinem natam e terra sibi prolem ementiebantur, locum... asylum aperit. Eo ex finitimis populis turba omnis sine discrimine, liber an seruus esset, auida nouarum rerum perfugit, idque primum ad coeptam magnitudinem roboris fuit. See comments in Ogilvie 1965: 62-63. Miles (1995: 149-51) underlines that Livy constantly characterizes the early Romans as “a self-made people” to contrast them with both the Greeks (whom the Romans surpassed in morality, pragmatism, and warfare) and the contemporary nobiles with their corrupted customs. Cf. also Dench 2005: 96-100, who argues that Livy is alluding in this passage to the myth of the Athenians as the earth-born progeny of Erechtheus (on which, see Loraux 2000, esp. 13-38) and connects it with contemporary Roman views on Athenian culture. 119 Dench 2005: 102. Cf. also Cornell 2015: 247-8. 120 Cf., e.g., Sall. Cat. 6.1, and Verg. Aen. 8.314-23; cf. the discussion on the Aborigines at chap. 3.1 (introduction).

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migration of Italian peoples to Rome as a substantial factor in early Rome’s formation may also reflect issues of mobility and immigration that held a certain resonance in the Augustan age.121 In striking contrast to Livy’s account,122 the asylum described by Dionysius welcomed only freeborn people. Dench observes that Dionysius’s asylum is populated by “noble refugees.”123 However, Dionysius is careful not to ‘ennoble’ the asylum’s inhabitants too much. The fugitives, we are told, were escaping from badly governed city, tyrannies, and oligarchies (RA 2.15.3). While this might be an indication of their aristocratic condition as men directly affected by constitutional changes, Dionysius specifies that Romulus welcomed everyone “without distinction of their misfortunes or cases” (διακρίνων οὔτε συμφορὰς οὔτε τύχας αὐτῶν), with the only condition being that they were free (εἰ μόνον εἶεν ἐλεύθεροι, ibid). Dionysius, then, keeps with his previous claims about the early Romans’ lineage and the repeated denial of a slavish or lowly component in it (cf. RA 1.4.2, 1.89.1, as well as 2.8.3-4 about the patricians’ origin, discussed above; cf. chap. 4.2.2 a, with notes 94-95). At the same time, he does not completely subvert the tradition about Romulus’s asylum by rejecting altogether the possible presence in it of people not belonging to the Italian nobility.124 Another remarkable feature of Dionysius’s account is the idea that Romulus consecrated the space of the asylum to a god not as an actual act of devotion, but as a mere pretext (cf. 2.15.4: τῆς εἰς τὸ θεῖον εὐσεβείας προφάσει). As I shall discuss in the next subsection (4.2.2 c), Dionysius, while not questioning Romulus’s pietas, ascribes to him an explicit exploitation of religious practices for political purposes, in this case, to justify his acquisition of new citizens to the detriment of the neighbouring cities and, in general, to gain control over the masses by instilling fear of the gods and pietas in them. The third measure that, according to Dionysius, Romulus undertook to increase the population consisted in enrolling war captives and foreigners as Roman citizens (2.16). Dionysius attributes great importance to this usage, indicating it as the most effective measure established by the first king, since it proved central to ensuring the growth of Rome’s power:

121 As suggested, again, by Dench 2005: 103. 122 On the lowly social composition of the asylum, cf. Strab. 5.3.2, C 230, and Plut. Rom. 9.3. Plutarch, in particular, emphasises that Romulus welcomed everyone, returning neither slaves to their masters, nor debtors to creditors, nor murderers to juries, since his shelter was supposed to be a safe space for all people. Cf. also Juv. 8.272-5, who ironizes on the grand ancestry of the Roman noble families insinuating that, ultimately, they all came from the same ignoble melting pot of the asylum (cf. in particular line 273: ab infami gentem deducis asylo). 123 Dench 2005: 102. 124 On Dionysius’s text cf. Gabba 1960: 222-3, 1991: 103, 175-6, 197; Fox 1996: 61; Delcourt 2005: 288-9.

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There was in addition a third institution of Romulus, which above all the Greeks ought to practise, being the best of all the initiatives of government, in my opinion, which set the beginning of a firm freedom for the Romans and provided not the smallest part of the factors that led to their supremacy.125

These words, which introduce the description of the practice in question, reveal that Romulus’s initiative is not conceived as paramount per se, but in fact its significance results from (and depends on) the comparison with Greek customs. Dionysius indeed supplements this account with a relation of the Greek usage in granting citizenship to foreigners. As he states, the Greeks (naming here Spartans, Thebans, and Athenians) were jealous of their privileges and granted citizenship rights to very few people—a criticism that had already been advanced by Isocrates—126 with the consequence that they were not able to replace war losses and in turn all lost their leadership (2.17.1-2), whereas the Romans, by continuing Romulus’s policy over time, had a continual supply of soldiers even after military disasters (2.17.3-4). Dionysius thus counts the Roman ability to procure human resources among Rome’s greatest strengths and presents it as a ground-breaking creation of Romulus’s political wisdom. In the account of Romulus’s war campaigns (below, section 4.2.3), much prominence is given to the Roman policy of incorporating the defeated peoples into the citizen body and allowing them to move to Rome. As Poma argues, the process described by Dionysius does not imply subjugation of the Latin city to Roman hegemony, but rather appears as a sort of osmosis between Rome and the Latins, favoured by their common cultural traits. The exchange of population is indeed reciprocal: new citizens from the conquered cities are admitted to Rome, and Roman colonists are sent to the conquered cities (as I shall discuss again when detailing Romulus’s wars).127 In treating this topic, Dionysius also elaborates on a discourse—the concession of Roman citizenship—that was still current in late Republican and early imperial politics, having been violently brought to the general attention in the first decade of the first century BC by the conflict with the Roman allies. Around the same time that Dionysius was writing, other Roman authors were depicting Rome as a place of integration for conquered peoples and allies from its early times, a place where everybody could not only become a citizen but even attain public offices and eventually rise to political influence. Livy, for instance, states this idea in the speech that he

125 RA 2.16.1: τρίτον ἦν ἔτι Ῥωμύλου πολίτευμα, ὃ πάντων μάλιστα τοὺς Ἕλληνας ἀσκεῖν ἔδει, κράτιστον ἁπάντων πολιτευμάτων ὑπάρχον, ὡς ἐμὴ δόξα φέρει, ὃ καὶ τῆς βεβαίου Ῥωμαίοις ἐλευθερίας ἦρχε καὶ τῶν ἐπὶ τὴν ἡγεμονίαν ἀγόντων οὐκ ἐλαχίστην μοῖραν παρέσχε. 126 See, e.g., Isoc. Pac. 50 (cf. 89-90), where Isocrates reproaches the Athenians for being jealous of their noble birth and not being willing to share it with others. 127 Poma 1981: 89-90.

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ascribes to the tribune C. Canuleius in favour of patrician and plebeian intermarriages, and has Canuleius mention Numa, the Tarquins, and the Claudii as notable examples of the application of the policy of admitting foreigners to Rome.128 Dionysius, however, uses this motif—which he likely took from a recent or contemporary source—with a different aim. While he could hardly be affected by the issues of the socii in the previous generation, his interest in the Roman grant of citizenship seems to be directed to his Greek readers and possibly intended not only to demonstrate the political superiority of the early Romans in comparison with the Greeks but also to suggest the possibility, for the contemporary Greeks, of being integrated into Roman life and government. c) Roman Antiquities 2.18-2.30 Through the description of the first two sets of measures, Dionysius attempts to show how Romulus established concord among the political elements and laid the basis for a lasting power by permanently setting the relations between the different social groups and ensuring their control over one another. His third set of measures appears ultimately aimed at the same purposes—civil harmony and a stable government—by regulating, this time, not the political but the private conduct of the citizens and directing them to the pursuit of civic and moral virtues. This final group concerns the creation of the basic religious institutions of the city (2.18-23) and the norms pertaining to individual behaviour (2.24-30). The novelty of this conception lies in the overarching character that Dionysius ascribes to Romulus’s constitution: his norms encompass both public and private, civic and religious life. The opening of this section has a programmatic value; in it, Dionysius—through Romulus’s voice—states the factors that render a city well governed:

First, favour from the gods, through the presence of which all things turn out for the best for the people, next, both moderation and justice, because of which [people] harming one another to a lesser degree live in greater harmony and measure happiness not by shameful pleasures but by virtue, and lastly excellence in war, which causes the other virtues as well to be beneficial to those who have them. [Romulus] considered that each of these blessings does not arrive spontaneously, but he recognized that good laws and emulation of fair pursuits make a city pious and moderate and eager for justice and good in war. He took much thought for them, beginning with reverence for divine and spiritual matters.129

128 Liv. 4.3; on Canuleius’s speech, see Ogilvie 1965: 533-9; Poma 1989: 190-2; Chaplin 2000: 159-60; Vasaly 2015: 116-21. On the grant of citizenship cf. Cic. Balb. 31; Tac. Ann. 11.24 (the speech of Claudius); Dench 2005: 117-21. On the Social War as a momentous step in the creation of a shared Roman-Italian identity see Lee-Stecum 2014, esp. 462-4 (with previous references). 129 RA 2.18.1-2: πρῶτον μὲν τὴν παρὰ τῶν θεῶν εὔνοιαν, ἧς παρούσης ἅπαντα τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ἐπὶ τὰ κρείττω συμφέρεται, ἔπειτα σωφροσύνην τε καὶ δικαιοσύνην, δι᾽ ἃς ἧττον ἀλλήλους βλάπτοντες μᾶλλον ὁμονοοῦσι καὶ τὴν εὐδαιμονίαν οὐ ταῖς αἰσχίσταις μετροῦσιν ἡδοναῖς ἀλλὰ τῷ καλῷ, τελευταίαν δὲ τὴν ἐν τοῖς πολέμοις γενναιότητα τὴν παρασκευάζουσαν εἶναι καὶ τὰς ἄλλας ἀρετὰς τοῖς ἔχουσιν ὠφελίμους, οὐκ ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου παραγίνεσθαι τούτων ἕκαστον τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἐνόμισεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἔγνω διότι νόμοι σπουδαῖοι καὶ καλῶν ζῆλος ἐπιτηδευμάτων εὐσεβῆ

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Here Dionysius develops a topic that appears very early in his account. In the preface, inviting his readers to reconsider hostile views on Roman domination, Dionysius claims that the Romans’ success was not the result of a caprice of fortune (cf. 1.5.2), but was a consequence of the Romans’ superior virtue: “[Rome] brought forth countless models of virtues in men right from the beginning after its foundation, compared to which no city, neither Greek nor barbarian, has produced [men] more pious nor more just nor that have used more moderation throughout their whole life nor mightier combatants in wars.”130 In agreement with this statement, Dionysius also has Romulus affirm, right before being confirmed as king by the popular vote, that the strengths of a city are the virtues of his citizens, naming among them martial prowess and justice (2.3.5, examined above, chap. 4.2.1). The virtues enumerated in these passages by Dionysius as fundamental values in Romulus’s city are essentially (though not exclusively) Greek and therefore define Rome as a Greek city. In fact, the four ‘Roman’ or ‘Romulean’ virtues (piety, justice, moderation, and bravery) closely recall the Greek cardinal virtues which are frequently mentioned in Greek political and philosophical writings as essential characteristics of the ‘good citizens’—that is, of the Greek and specifically Athenian citizens (cf., for instance, Pl. Leg. 1.631c-d; Isoc. Evag. 22-24).131 This portion of the narrative is basically an explanation about how the first king encouraged the citizens to pursue virtues and how this contributed to the preservation of harmony among them. The first virtue (εὐσέβεια) is promoted by Romulus through his organization of the worship of the gods. The other two, moderation and justice (σωφροσύνη and δικαιοσύνη), are supported by laws regulating marriage and father-and-children relationships (2.24-26) as well as the distribution of ‘honourable’ professions (such as agriculture and warfare) among citizens.132

καὶ σώφρονα καὶ τὰ δίκαια ἀσκοῦσαν καὶ τὰ πολέμια ἀγαθὴν ἐξεργάζονται πόλιν· ὧν πολλὴν ἔσχε πρόνοιαν τὴν ἀρχὴν ποιησάμενος ἀπὸ τῶν περὶ τὰ θεῖα καὶ δαιμόνια σεβασμῶν. 130 RA 1.5.3: μυρίας ἤνεγκεν ἀνδρῶν ἀρετὰς εὐθὺς ἐξ ἀρχῆς μετὰ τὸν οἰκισμὸν, ὧν οὔτ᾽ εὐσεβεστέρους οὔτε δικαιοτέρους οὔτε σωφροσύνῃ πλείονι παρὰ πάντα τὸν βίον χρησαμένους οὐδέ γε τὰ πολέμια κρείττους ἀγωνιστὰς οὐδεμία πόλις ἤνεγκεν οὔτε Ἑλλὰς οὔτε βάρβαρος, εἰ δὴ ἀπέσται τοῦ λόγου τὸ ἐπίφθονον. 131 Cf. Gabba 1982b: 49; Delcourt 2005: 291-6; Wiater 2011a: 67-68, 174-5, 205; cf. discussion on Isocrates at chap. 2.1.2. Dionysius’s frequent mentions of the virtues of the Romans may be related to the Augustan program of moral renovation, in particular to the four virtues inscribed on the clipeus virtutis (i.e., pietas, iustitia, clementia, and virtus; on which cf. chap. 3.2.4 with notes 85-89); although Delcourt has noted that σωφροσύνη does not correspond to clementia but would rather be rendered in Latin as temperantia (Delcourt 2005: 297; followed by Wiater 2011a: 207). On the relation between Greek cardinal virtues and the clipeus virtutis cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1981: 300-7; Noreña 2001: 152-3. 132 On these measures see in particular Gabba 1960: 193-7. The fourth of the civic qualities (i.e., excellence in war, or ἐν τοῖς πολέμοις γενναιότης), will be treated in the following section (chap. 4.2.3). On the distribution of occupations between citizens and non-citizens see section above, chap. 4.2.2 a.

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While a thorough discussion of the two latter sets of laws would exceed the scope of this chapter, two interrelated aspects of Dionysius’s treatment of them are worth emphasizing, as they substantiate some crucial points of his overall presentation of the Roman constitution: the comparison with Greek customs and the emphasis on the moral character of certain Roman practices. Specifically, in describing the norms that Romulus enacted on behalf of family relations, Dionysius underscores the greater efficacy and inventiveness of Roman laws in comparison with Greek corresponding ones (cf. 2.25.6, 2.26.2-3, 2.28.2). Such superiority, however, must not have always been self-evident to his Greek readership, since Dionysius sometimes engages in convoluted explanations to make their moral value explicit. This emerges, for instance, from Dionysius’s lengthy justification of the severe punishments that the Roman fathers were seemingly allowed to inflict upon their offspring, which is accompanied by a parallel show of veiled disparagement of the comparable Greek norms (2.26-27).133 Dionysius seems aware of the difficulty of presenting these Roman familial practices to the Greek readers as acceptable (cf. in particular 2.27.1) and returns to the topic elsewhere in the narrative, restating the social utility of the Roman laws favouring paternal severity as well as the interpretative difficulties that they could pose for the ‘leniently educated’ Greek readers (RA 5.8, examined at chap. 5.1.3). The survival over time of the Roman ‘problematic’ laws is brought as evidence of their excellence (cf. 2.25.7, 2.27.3-4). Dionysius, then, finds a convenient way to make the Roman usages more acceptable by emphasizing both their durability and, on the other hand, the slack morals of the Greeks as an unsuitable parameter for judgment. A similar consideration can be made for the previously examined account of Romulus’s distribution of occupations to the citizens: the freeborn, we are told, are directed towards agriculture and warfare together, according to the principle that hardships foster virtue (cf. 2.28.1-2); this measure is contrasted with the Spartan practice of separating husbandry and military activity between Helots and Spartans, which was—as Dionysius implies—ἀτελῆ καὶ φιλαίτιον (“incomplete and liable to blame,” 2.28.2-3), and thus inferior to the Roman usage.

133 On this passage cf. Wiater 2017: 250-1, who notes how Dionysius presents himself as an expert on Greek and Roman morals: “Dionysius’s positive judgement of the early Romans’ morals, and his concomitant criticism of the ‘lax’ morals of the Greeks, are designed to demonstrate the extent to which his knowledge of and contact with the Romans have influenced his own character; at the same time, they signal to his Greek readers that they are not even aware of the defects and shortcomings of their own education, because unlike Dionysius, they have not profited from the salutary acquaintance with the (early) Roman character” (ibid, 251).

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Dionysius’s account of Romulus’s organization of cults and priesthoods offers some interesting insights into Dionysius’s conception of Romulus’s constitutional activity as well as his own views of Roman religion. Unlike other sources, who do not credit Romulus with significant religious innovations, Dionysius ascribes several essential institutions to him.134 In particular, Dionysius relates, Romulus oversees the building of temples (an activity that was traditionally attributed to Numa, cf. chap. 4.1.2 and 4.3.2) and determines for each god his or her distinctive characteristics, powers, symbols of worship, festivals, and all the cult-related matters (2.18.2). In other words, Romulus ‘invents’ civic religion not only in its formal aspects, but also in its content. In this regard, a crucial element of his religious activity as depicted by Dionysius is the elimination of all the myths that portray the gods in contemptible or indecent manners, because such myths attribute to them conducts unworthy of their inherently good nature (cf. 2.18.3-19.1). The notion that myths (and in general, the stories related by the poets) ought to be banned because they promote distorted views about the gods had been famously advanced by Plato, finding its classic formulation in the Republic (cf. esp. 2.377-398b, 595-608b), where the philosopher ultimately advocates the eradication of myths from youths’ education and society. Unlike Plato, Dionysius acknowledges some advantages in the civic use of myths (RA 2.20.1); yet he maintains a rigorous and cautious attitude towards them, recognizing that the majority of people are unacquainted with philosophical concepts and are thus unable to interpret myths critically (2.20.2; cf. Pl. Rep. 2.378d- e).135 The idea underlying Romulus’s ban is connected with the previously illustrated concept of imitation or μίμησις (cf. chap. 2.1.2): the gods supply models of conduct for the citizens and thus ought to inspire, through the stories related about them, virtuous deeds only. Dionysius implicitly

134 Cf., e.g., Cic. Rep. 2.16, who cites only the auspicia as a religious institution established by Romulus; and Liv. 1.7.15-8.1, who just mentions the adoption of the cult of Hercules and hastily dismisses Romulus’s concerns with religion (rebus divinis rite perpetratis, “as the divine matters had been duly accomplished...”). Plutarch, on the other hand, attributes to Romulus the institution of the college of the Vestal Virgins, which was generally assigned to Numa, and states that “in other respects Romulus [was said to be] especially religious” (τὰ δ᾽ ἄλλα τὸν Ῥωμύλον θεοσεβῆ διαφερόντως, Rom. 22.1; cf. Num. 9.5), though citing only divination as an example for his religious devotion (ibid). 135 On Romulus’s measures cf. Gabba 1960: 189-93, 1984a: 855-60, 1991: 118-3; Capdeville 1993: 154-5; Poma 1994: 547-9; Mora 1995: 196-8, 409-11; Engels 2012: 156-8, 160; Driediger-Murphy 2014: 334-5. Gabba (1984a: 858-60 and 1991: 122-3) argues that Dionysius was familiar with the Stoic ideas expressed by Varro in the first book of the Antiquitates Rerum Divinarum that religion had been invented by men and that there were three ways of viewing the gods: the natural or physical (proper of philosophers), the mythical (proper of poets), and the civic (proper of the legislators); although Gabba admits to the speculative nature of this hypothesis (Varr. Ant. rer. div. fr. 5-11, 19-21 Cardauns; cf. also Engels 2012: 156; on Dionysius’s dependence on Varro for the Romulean constitution, cf. Wiseman 2007: 81-98).

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suggests this when he states, in the introductory text to this section, that “emulation of fair pursuits makes a city pious and moderate and eager for justice and good in war” (RA 2.18.2, above). Dionysius’s treatment of this matter raises questions about his own approach to religion and, in particular, the political use of it. Gabba has consistently maintained that, in attributing certain provisions to Romulus, Dionysius was not necessarily subscribing to the idea, advanced by Critias and later shared by Polybius (6.56.6-12), that “religion was exclusively a means of reining in the ignorant masses.”136 Dionysius introduces the necessity of regulations for the citizens’ religious life as a means to ensure “the goodwill of the gods” (τὴν παρὰ τῶν θεῶν εὔνοιαν, 2.18.1, above), which was among the factors that granted success to the Romans: “he considered the religious institutions (in their broadest sense) laid down by the legislators to be a direct reflection of the benevolence shown by the gods toward Rome, hence a recognizably divine intervention in history.”137 The religious regulations of Romulus are thus aimed at inspiring and maintaining εὐσέβεια among the citizens as a necessary condition for preserving the gods’ favour. This conception, Gabba observes, agrees with the criticism that Dionysius elsewhere makes against atheistic philosophies, which denied that the gods took any interest in mankind and intervened in the life of men (cf. 2.68.2 and 8.56.1, with possible reference to Epicurean doctrines). However, the fact that Dionysius ascribes an ethical value to Romulus’s religious institutions does not exclude the possibility that he also believed in a more pragmatic use of religion. The idea that religious beliefs had been used by Romulus (and by the Roman leadership in general) to establish a firmer control over the masses is in fact embedded in Dionysius’s account. A number of passages concerning Romulus’s and subsequently Numa’s initiatives support this point. For instance, in the previously mentioned account on the institution of the asylum, Dionysius claims that the dedication of this space to a deity (whose identity was not even known) was a pretext to attract and retain fugitives (2.15.4, above). Later in the account, Dionysius suggests that Numa feigned acquaintance with the nymph Egeria to present his laws as divinely inspired, and he mentions other rulers of the past who resorted to this ‘trick’ to enhance their authority with the commoners (2.60-61; cf. chap. 4.3.1, below). In the present instance, Dionysius’s skeptical attitude about the utility of myths for the common people, who lack the competence to get any benefits out

136 Gabba 1991: 123, and 1984a: 859. 137 Cf. Gabba 1991: 123-4, followed by Delcourt 2005: 294-5. Dionysius explicitly cites divine providence in preserving Roman supremacy at RA 5.54.1: ἡ δ᾽ ἐν παντὶ καιρῷ σώζουσα τὴν πόλιν καὶ μέχρι τῶν κατ᾽ ἐμὲ χρόνων παραμένουσα θεία πρόνοια, etc. Cf. Engels 2012: 154-7 on Stoic influences on Dionysius’s thought.

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of them, and his manifest disdain of excesses in public celebrations, which instead appeal to the masses (cf. 2.21.1 and 2.19.2), suggest that Dionysius, just like Polybius,138 believed in the necessity of controlling them on account of their ignorance and uncritical thinking. Like the construction of temples and shrines, the appointment of priests was also an activity traditionally assigned to Numa’s reign (see below, chap. 4.3.2). Dionysius, however, while not disagreeing with the majority of the sources, ascribes to Romulus a major part in this activity as well (cf. 2.21.2). In particular, following Varro,139 Dionysius states that Romulus had sixty priests (two per curia) elected to perform the public sacrifices, and remarks on the criteria for selection put in place by the king, which were based—just like the appointment of senators and celeres— on both birth and individual merits (2.21.3). As in the case of the civil institutions, Dionysius indicates Greek types of priests and sacrifices as models for those created by Romulus (2.22.1- 23.3), 140 so as to underline the continuity and similarities with the Greek world. The attribution to Romulus of a strict hierarchy to supervise religious matters is consistent with his careful definition of the gods’ identities (2.18.2) and his censure of myths (2.18.3), as a further indication of his policy of control over the religious life of the citizens. Before concluding the discussion on Romulus’s legislation and examining the account of his military enterprises, I ought to mention a unique detail that Dionysius includes in the final part of the ‘Romulean constitution.’ Specifically, Dionysius relates that, in order to prevent the people from committing crimes, Romulus devised certain measures which would instil fear of punishment on people: the employment of an elevated throne in the forum, the constant presence—as bodyguards—of three-hundred celeres and twelve lictors, and the practice of public executions (2.29.1).141 The report is not itself remarkable, since the creation of the celeres, the lictors, and the royal insigna is also cited by other ancient sources as a Romulean innovation (cf., e.g., Liv. 1.8.2-

138 The aristocratic motif of the fundamental fickleness of the masses is explicitly discussed by Polybius, who compares them to an ocean for their unpredictable behaviour: the ocean is harmless and quiet by nature, but if a wind falls upon it, it may become violent and dangerous; therefore, the masses require the constant supervision of the aristoi (Polyb. 11.29.9-10; 21.31.9-15; see Eckstein 1995: 129-40). As mentioned above, religion was a means to establish control over them in Polybius’s conception. 139 On Varro’s attribution of the first priesthoods to Romulus, cf. Gordon 2003: 63-65. 140 In particular, Dionysius equates the maidens who served as basket-bearer (κανηφόροι) and bearer of symbols of Athena Polias (ἀρρηφόροι) with the tutulatae (or those who wore the tutulus; although this term seems to be conjectural; cf. Cary 1937: 371 n. 3). Likewise, the Roman camilli (i.e., the youthful assistants of the flamen dialis) are matched by Dionysius with the κάδμιλοι, who were possibly ministers in the rites of the Great Gods (2.22.2). In turn, the term aruspex is derived from ἱεροσκόπος (2.22.3); and the banquets held by the curiae are related to the Spartan public banquets (2.23.3). On these comparisons, see Capdeville 1993: 156-8. 141 On these provisions, cf. Gabba 1960: 197-8.

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4, 1.15.8; Plut. Rom. 26). The novelty lies in transforming measures that were traditionally regarded as autocratic (if not tyrannical) into expressions of Romulus’s higher sense of justice. Livy, for instance, states that Romulus knowingly adopted the symbols of power to make himself “more venerable” (augustiorem) and gain the obedience of the uncouth folks.142 Plutarch depicts the introduction of the regalia as signs of Romulus’s despotism in his late life (Rom. 26). Dionysius, instead, adheres to his previous presentation of Romulus and his government by turning potentially ambivalent aspects of Romulus’s legend into evidence of Roman virtue.

4.2.3 Romulus’s Wars (RA 2.30-55)

As mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, the reign of Romulus was frequently characterized in the literary tradition as a persistent state of warfare. Romulus was believed to have defeated several of Rome’s early enemies (such as the Caeninenses, the Sabines, the Fidenates, and the Veientes) and, in most instances, to have incorporated their territory into the ager Romanus. The martial aspects of the figure of Romulus are also evident in his threefold triumphal celebration and his dedication of the spolia opima to Jupiter Feretrius (discussed below). This material finds a convenient reception in Dionysius’s account, which appears to have embraced these aspects of Romulus’s rule and his characterization for distinctive purposes. In particular, Dionysius’s narrative emphasizes the policy initiated by Romulus of integrating subjected peoples as well as the defensive nature of the conflicts that Romulus waged. As I argue, Dionysius’s intention was to expand on the discourse about civic virtue that he develops in the description of the first Roman constitution by stressing the Romans’ martial prowess as well as their justice and wisdom in foreign relations. Besides drawing on previous depictions of Romulus’s reign, Dionysius may have been influenced by current ideas of bellum iustum and clementia, which he elaborates to strengthen his portrayal of Romulus and the early Romans as an ethically superior people. In the following paragraphs, I will provide short summaries of Romulus’s enterprises and analyze some of the

142 Liv. 1.8.2: “He established laws; and so considering that they would be respected by a rustic race of people, if he had rendered himself venerable by emblems of power, he made himself more solemn not only by [wearing] a different garment, but especially through the appointment of twelve lictors” (iura dedit; quae ita sancta generi hominum agresti fore ratus, si se ipse uenerabilem insignibus imperii fecisset, cum cetero habitu se augustiorem, tum maxime lictoribus duodecim sumptis fecit). On this passage see comments in Ogilvie 1965: 61-62. The adjective augustus is also used at 1.7.9 with reference to Hercules; on the ambiguity of its use in Livy cf. Ramage 1987: 101 with n. 245; Marinčič 2002: 154-5. On the Etruscan origin of the lictors and the royal insignia, cf. Sall. Cat. 51.38; Diod. 5.40.1; Strab. 5.2.2, C 220; Dion. Hal. RA 3.61-62; Pliny NH 8.195; App. Pun. 66.

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interpretative issues that they raise, focusing in particular on Dionysius’s application of the Greek cardinal virtues to early Roman warfare. The earliest relevant episode of Romulus’s reign recorded by the ancient sources is the mass abduction of the Sabine women, which he was thought to have contrived to procure wives for his men. The general lines of the episode are well known. We have complete reports of it from Livy (1.9) and the later biography by Plutarch (Rom. 14-15), in addition to brief mentions in other sources (e.g., Cic. Rep. 2.12; Just. Epit. 43.3.2). Livy indicates as the reason for the abduction the scarcity of women in the city (penuria mulierum, 1.9.1; cf. Cic. ibid). The same reason is related by Plutarch, who adds the detail that Romulus wished to give unity through marriage to the lowly rabble gathered in the asylum (Rom. 14.2). Dionysius, on the other hand, provides a significantly different reason for Romulus’s enterprise, which he describes as an attempt to establish ‘diplomatic’ contacts with Rome’s neighbours. In addition, Romulus’s action is openly justified by Dionysius because of its compliance with the ancestral customs. Romulus, we are told, wanted to gain the favour of his neighbours through intermarriage, “which course of action seemed to the ancients to be the safest of those that form alliances” (ὅσπερ ἐδόκει τοῖς παλαιοῖς τρόπος εἶναι βεβαιότατος τῶν συναπτόντων φιλίας, 2.30.2). At the same time, Dionysius rejects the less flattering possibilities that the Romans needed to find a remedy for the scarcity of women in the city and that they were seeking a pretext for war (2.31.1).143 The latter motive was likely reported by some sources; we have an echo of it in Plutarch, who mentions Romulus’s warlike nature among the causes for the abduction handed down by the literary tradition (Rom. 14.1). Besides giving a different reason for the abduction, Dionysius’s account is also notable for its remark on the legitimacy of Romulus’s course of action—he is said to have obtained the approval of Numitor and of the senate and to have made a solemn vow to the god Consus144 (2.30.2-3)—as well as its alleged Greek precedent.145 Thus, Dionysius presents a potentially ambivalent episode of

143 Cf. Fox 1996: 58-59, who defines Dionysius’s conception as a “morally improved rationalization.” 144 The occasion of the seizure was a festival with athletic contests in honour of Consus or Poseidon/Neptune. On Consus and his identification with Poseidon Hippios cf. Strab. 5.3.2, C 230; Plut. Rom. 14.3-4, Mor. 276 C; Serv. Aen. 8.636; see Ogilvie 1965: 66. On the Consualia in correspondence with the Sabines’ abduction cf. Varro LL 6.20; Ov. Fast. 3.199-200; Tert. Spect. 5.5; cf. Cary 1937: 402 n. 1; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 43-45. For a comment on Livy’s account and further references about this episode see, in particular, Miles 1995: 178-219; cf. Ogilvie 1965: 64-70; Wiseman 1983: 445-7; Fox 1996: 58-59, 106-9; Liou-Gille 1998: 29-38. On the significance of this myth in the definition of Roman identity and its relation to Romulus’s asylum, see Dench 2005: 4-5, 11-15, 20-25. 145 Romulus comforts the abducted maidens by telling that they had been taken for the purpose of marriage “according to an old Greek custom” (Ἑλληνικόν τε καὶ ἀρχαῖον τὸ ἔθος, 2.30.5). Dionysius may be referring here to the practice mentioned by Plutarch in his Life of Lycurgus, where Plutarch relates that the Spartan women were

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Romulus’s life as an example of his righteous approach towards foreign communities and of his compliance with Greek customs (which is evidently intended as further evidence of the Greek origin and character of the early Romans). Conventionally, Romulus’s abduction of the Sabine women provoked a series of battles with the cities affected by the deed (namely, Caenina, Antemnae, and Crustumerium),146 which decided to make war upon the Romans. The account of the ensuing war is the occasion for Dionysius to introduce the chief characteristic that he ascribes to Roman warfare: the Romans waged war only in self-defence and when unjustly harmed, according to the principles of bellum iustum (see discussion below and at chap. 4.3.2). The seizure of the virgins, Dionysius reports, was used as a pretext by the towns in question to check the growth of Roman power (2.32.2; cf. Liv. 1.9.3). Additionally, in this war Romulus was believed to have accomplished a valiant deed— the killing of the Caeninenses’ chief, Acron, whose spoils were dedicated in the newly built temple of Jupiter Feretrius (RA 2.33.2; cf. Liv. 10.1-4; Plut. Rom. 16.3)147—and to have celebrated the first triumph in the history of Rome. Dionysius’s treatment of these two events stands out for the unusual downplaying of the first episode and the detailed description of Romulus’s triumphal procession, which surpasses in narrative weight and significance the moment of the spoils’ dedication. The discrepancy is particularly manifest in comparison with Livy’s account, which compresses the report of Romulus’s triumph to a single sentence, exercitu uictore reducto (1.10.5), focusing instead on the dedication of the spoils of Acron to Jupiter (on which see the next paragraph). Plutarch, in turn, describes Romulus’s carrying of the trophy with Acron’s spoils on his shoulder as the highlight (and even origin) of his triumphal march (Rom. 16.5-6).148 Dionysius emphasizes many particulars of Romulus’s procession, his appearance, and his attire,149 but oddly

carried off by force for marriage (15.3-5). Greaves (1998: 572-4) suggests a parallel with Hdt. 1.146, which deals with the Athenian foundation of Miletus. During this enterprise, the Athenian colonists slaughtered the male relatives of the Carian women and took them in marriage. 146 On these towns see Ogilvie 1965: 68-69. 147 On the etymology of Feretrius, cf. Fest. 81 L; Prop. 4.10.46-48); Plut. Rom. 16.6. 148 Plutarch’s presentation of Romulus may be influenced by the images of the first king that started to circulate in the Augustan age (cf. n. 149 below). The account of Romulus’s procession allows Dionysius to express a critique against the extravagant displays in triumphs of his time in contrast with the frugality of early celebrations (2.34.3-4). Beard argues that this polemic may be directed against the luxurious banqueting habits of the late Republican generals, with a possible reference to those organized by Caesar for his triumphs of 46 and 45 BC (2007: 258-61; cf. 153-9). Sordi reads Dionysius’s comment as an anachronism plainly reported from his source (1993: 114; rejected by Chaplin 2000: 187-8; on Caesar’s triumph of 46 BC see Weinstock 1971: 76-79). 149 Romulus is said to be dressed in purple, crowned with laurel, and riding a chariot drawn by four white horses, “so as to maintain his royal rank” (ἵνα τὸ βασίλειον ἀξίωμα σώζῃ, 2.34.2). Plutarch (Rom. 16.8) claims that Dionysius was incorrect in reporting that Romulus used a chariot, for the practice of using chariots in triumphal processions

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has very few words to say about the circumstances of the dedication of the enemy’s spoils in the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, and limits his account to a brief mention of it (cf. RA 2.34.4). The depositing of the spoils of an enemy commander in the temple of Jupiter Feretrius (the so-called spolia opima) was an extraordinary occurrence in Roman history. The ancient sources record three cases only of generals who had this privilege: Romulus, who initiated this practice after killing Acron, the king of the Caeninenses; A. Cornelius Cossus, after killing the king of Veii, Lars Tolumnius (437 BC); and M. Claudius Marcellus, after slaying the king of the Insubres, Viridomarus, in 222 BC (cf. Liv. 1.10.5-7; Prop. 4.10; Val. Max. 3.2.3-5; Plut. Rom. 16.7, Marc. 8.3; Fest. 204 L; Ampel. 21; also, Verg. Aen. 6.859; Serv. Aen. 6.841, 855). The rarity of this dedication was due to the limited circumstances in which it could occur: the spolia opima (or prima) were won by a general with full command of the war, that is, acting under his own auspicia.150 There could be also spolia secunda and tertia, which were evidently less prestigious and were dedicated, respectively, to Mars and Quirinus (Fest. 202-4 L; cf. Liv. 4.20.5-6; Plut. Rom. 16.7, Marc. 8.3-5; Dio 44.4.3. Festus and Plutarch ascribe the ranking of the spolia to a law of Numa).151 Contrary to the other sources that describe the consecration of the first spolia opima to Jupiter, Dionysius does not give great relevance to this episode. Livy, for instance, reports that Romulus was eager to show off his deeds (factorum ostentator haud minor, 1.10.5), so he mounted Acron’s armour on a tray and carried it to the Capitol. There he hung the spoils on a sacred oak tree, marking down the site for the building of a temple, and uttered this vow to Jupiter:

“Jupiter Feretrius,” he said, “I, Romulus the king as victor, bring these royal arms to you, and with these boundaries, which I have just marked out in my mind, I dedicate a temple, as the seat for the spolia opima, which posterity will bring following me as initiator, after kings and generals of the enemies have been slain.”152

was introduced either by Tarquinius Priscus or Publicola; evidence of this was the appearance of Romulus’s statues bearing trophies, which are described by Plutarch as all standing on foot. On this passage and the Etruscan origin of the triumph see Musti 1970: 35-36, 1981: 30 n. 7; Pittenger 2008: 276-7. 150 Cf. Liv. 4.20.6: “Moreover, besides the fact that the spolia opima are properly considered those, which a general has stripped from a general nor do we acknowledge a general unless a war is carried on under his auspicium, etc.” (ceterum, praeterquam quod ea rite opima spolia habentur, quae dux duci detraxit nec ducem nouimus nisi cuius auspicio bellum geritur; Ogilvie 1965: 563-5; see references below, at notes 156-7). Cf. also Val. Max. 3.2.6 about the denial to consecrate the spoils to Jupiter Feretrius to T. Manlius Torquatus, Valerius Corvus, and Scipio Aemilianus, since they were waging war under someone else’s auspicia when they killed the enemy chiefs: quia sub alienis auspiciis rem gesserant, spolia Iovi Feretrio non posuerunt consecranda. On the interrelation of imperium and auspicium see Versnel 1970: 313-55; also, Pittenger 2008: 54-62. 151 See Liou-Gille 1998: 39-55. 152 Liv. 1.10.6: Iuppiter Feretri, inquit, haec tibi uictor Romulus rex regia arma fero, templumque his regionibus quas modo animo metatus sum dedico, sedem opimis spoliis quae regibus ducibusque hostium caesis me auctorem sequentes posteri ferent. For a comment on this text see Ogilvie 1965: 70-73.

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Plutarch also underscores Romulus’s keenness in displaying his success and, like Livy, relates that Romulus built a wooden frame cut from an oak tree to display Acron’s spoils; he then carried the trophy in procession and consecrated it to Jupiter Feretrius (Rom. 16.5-7). Plutarch, moreover, adds an etymological explanation for the word opima and clarifies the circumstances in which the spoils could be dedicated: “The dedication of the [spolia] opima is granted to a general of valour acting under his own auspicia [lit., working by himself], who has killed a general” (αὐτουργῷ δ᾽ ἀριστείας στρατηγῷ, στρατηγὸν ἀνελόντι, δέδοται καθιέρωσις ὀπιμίων, Rom. 16.7). Dionysius’s brief account appears all the more peculiar, since setting the enemy’s spoils on a trophy was an ancient Greek practice as well (on which cf. Gorg. Epit. fr. 6, who specifies that the spoils were dedicated to Zeus; and Diod. 13.24.5, who states that the trophy was made of wood, as in Plut. Rom. 16.5, above, and Marc. 8.2)153—an element that would have fit in with his constant ascription of Greek origins to Roman customs. It is well-known that the right to dedicate the spolia opima was seemingly conceded to Caesar in 44 BC, even if he had not slain any enemy chief (Dio 44.4.3). Then, possibly around 31 BC, the princeps restored the temple of Jupiter Feretrius (Liv. 4.20.7; Nep. Att. 20.3). It is commonly held that Augustus hindered one of his generals, the young M. Licinius Crassus, from consecrating in it the spoils won from Deldo, the king of the Bastarnae, when Crassus was campaigning as proconsul in Macedonia, possibly on the ground that he was not leading the army under his own auspicia (29 BC).154 Livy relates that during the renovation of the temple Augustus supposedly found the linen corselet once worn by A. Cossus, which attested that Cossus was consul when he killed Lars Tolumnius (4.20.7). This news is reported by Livy not without a certain embarrassment, since, as he claims, his sources were unanimous in making Cossus a tribunus militum at the time of his exploit; therefore, he was not acting under his own auspicia (4.20.5-6; cf. 4.32.4-5; and Serv. Aen. 6.841, who states, too, that Cossus was tribunus militaris).155 The report of Augustus’s finding has generally been interpreted

153 Cf. Ogilvie 1965: 71; on the dedication of σκύλα see Pritchett 1991: 132-47. 154 Cf. Dio 51.24.4, who states that Crassus would have dedicated Deldo’s spoils as spolia opima, had he been general with imperium (αὐτοκράτωρ στρατηγὸς). In the following passage, Dio adds that, while a triumph was voted to him, Augustus alone assumed the title of imperator (51.25.2). As an alternative explanation, it has been suggested that Crassus did not apply for this privilege in order not to displease Augustus (see, in particular, Rich 1996: 85-127, with extensive discussion of previous scholarship). 155 Cf. the fragmentary passage of Festus (204 L), which appears to state that according to Varro even a simple soldier (manipularis miles) could claim the right to dedicate the enemy chief’s spoils as spolia opima; however, the text has a lacuna, which prevents its exact reading (cf. the reconstruction of the text in Albanese 1998: 77-94). On the tribuni militum consulari potestate and the nature/characteristics of their powers, see, e.g., Holloway 2008: 107- 25; Pittenger 2008: 62-66.

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by contemporary scholars as a fabrication meant to justify his supposed denial of Crassus’s dedication of Deldo’s spoil as spolia opima.156 It is interesting to note that Dionysius likewise states that Cossus was a tribunus militum when he slew the king of Veii and stripped him of his arms, but he makes no mention of Cossus’s dedication of those arms to Jupiter Feretrius (12.5). The motivation for this dry treatment of the incident involving the spolia opima in the Roman Antiquities can only be conjectured. Dionysius may have found it somewhat uncomfortable to deal with technicalities connected with the grant of this privilege, as it had become recently entangled with the imperial policy for granting honours and with Augustus’s increasing monopoly of military achievements.157 It is surprising, though, that he misses a significant opportunity to exalt Romulus’s prowess and to elucidate a Roman practice linked with crushing victories to his Greek audience. However, as suggested above, Dionysius appears less concerned than Livy and Plutarch with Romulus’s eagerness to display the outcome of his military deeds. In fact, after the narrative of Romulus’s simple triumph and his building of the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, Dionysius resumes the topic of the integration of conquered cities, which clearly held a greater importance to him (as considered in the previous section). It could thus be the case that Dionysius chose to minimize the treatment of the spolia opima because his goal was not the praise of Roman military excellence and victory for its own sake, but rather the emphasis on the social and political utility of Romulus’s wars for the enlargement of Rome’s population and territory as well as the demonstration of the Romans’ superior sense of justice and political awareness.

156 Flower (2000: 34-64) refers to the spolia opima as “a tradition reinvented” to suit the needs of Augustus and the imperial family at the time of the transition from the Republic to Principate. This episode and its political implications have been examined, among others, by Versnel 1970: 304-13; Daly 1981: 49-63; Magdelain 1984: 195- 237; Harrison 1989: 408-14; Levene 1993: 170-2; Chaplin 2000: 188-9; Sailor 2006: 329-88; Beard 2007: 292-4. Cf. also Pinotti 2004: 175-217; Garani 2007: 99-117; cf. Ingleheart 2007: 61-81, on the treatment of the spolia opima in Propertius and the Augustan poets. Scheid (2005: 180-1) links the renovation of the temple of Jupiter Feretrius and the issue of the deposition of the spolia opima with the possible contemporary creation (or restoration) of the high equestrian priesthood of the Caeninenses. 157 In 20 BC Augustus, after much diplomatic effort, obtained from the Parthians the restitution of the standards and prisoners taken in the ruinous expeditions of Crassus and Antony (RG 29.2: spolia et signa; cf. Suet. Aug. 21.3; Dio 51.18.2-3, 53.33.1-2; Just. 42.5.6-9). According to Dio, Augustus decreed and carried out the erection of a temple to Mars Ultor on the Capitol for the reception of the standards, “in emulation of that of Jupiter Feretrius” (κατὰ τὸ τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Φερετρίου ζήλωμα, Dio 54.8.3). Augustus’s dedication of the spoils recovered from the Parthians placed him on the same level as Romulus, although the temple of Mars Ultor was eventually built in his forum (see chap. 1.3), and not on the Capitol close to the temple of Jupiter Feretrius (cf. Rich 1998: 71-128; Rose 2005: 21-75; Cooley 2009: 242-5; on Augustus’s Parthian policy see Gruen 1985: 63-67; Brunt 1990: 456-64; on the visual representations of this “victory”, see Zanker 1988, esp. 185-92; Galinsky 1996: 155-8).

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The notion of φιλανθρωπία, which Dionysius commends in his description of the asylum Romuli (cf. previous section), returns in connection with the war provoked by the abduction of the Sabine women. In fact, Dionysius has Romulus claim—in a speech given in front of the captured women—that he would welcome their relatives and whoever of the defeated wished to move to Rome (2.35.3-4). The Caeninenses and Antemnates are accordingly admitted into the citizenry and enrolled in the curiae (2.35.6).158 In accordance with the ethnographic analysis offered in Book One, where most of the ancient inhabitants of Latium are said to be originally Greek, Dionysius confers on the Caeninenses and Antemnates a Greek ancestry too, since—he claims—they were descended from the Aborigines (2.35.6-7), who as previously considered were regarded as Greeks by Dionysius (cf. chap. 3.1). The inhabitants of Crustumerium, whose army is crushed by the Romans soon afterwards, are also given the opportunity to move to Rome and become citizens (2.36.1). In this case as well, the Roman citizenship body is enriched with Greek elements, the Crustumerians being identified as descendants of the Albans. The epilogue of the war is therefore presented as very fruitful for the Romans, since they manage to enlarge not only their territory but also their population through the addition of peoples of Greek origin. Besides Romulus’s φιλανθρωπία, Dionysius underscores, as Romulus’s foremost qualities, his excellence in war and his clemency towards the defeated (cf. 2.36.2, τήν τε κατὰ πολέμους γενναιότητα τοῦ ἡγεμόνος καὶ πρὸς τοὺς κρατηθέντας ἐπιείκειαν). His overtly positive assessment of Romulus’s conduct in war differs notably from other, less enthusiastic, accounts. Livy, for instance, agrees about the dispatch of Roman settlers to the captured cities and the simultaneous transfer of people to Rome (mainly the families of the seized maidens), but his description lacks the didactic, moralizing tone in which Dionysius explains Romulus’s sense of justice and forethought to his Greek readers.159 Plutarch, on the other hand, is rather blunt in his presentation, depicting Romulus’s victories in terms of occupation and the deportation of people: “[The inhabitants of Fidenae, Crustumerium and Antemnae] allowed Romulus to take their cities, divide their land and move the people themselves to Rome.”160 As considered in the account of Romulus’s constitution, in this case too Dionysius’s intention was likely to inflate the Romans’ virtues to set

158 On the enrolment of the defeated in the curiae in Dionysius’s account, see Smith 2006:195. 159 Liv. 1.11.4: “And colonies were sent to both places... and there was a migration to Rome in great numbers, especially from the parents and relatives of the seized [girls]” (utroque coloniae missae... et Romam inde frequenter migratum est, a parentibus maxime ac propinquis raptarum). 160 Plut. Rom. 17.1: [οἱ Φιδήνην καὶ Κρουστουμέριον καὶ Ἀντέμναν οἰκοῦντες] τάς τε πόλεις Ῥωμύλῳ παρῆκαν ἑλεῖν καὶ τὴν χώραν δάσασθαι καὶ μετοικίσαι σφᾶς αὐτοὺς εἰς Ῥώμην.

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them against the Greeks’ failings, with particular reference—again—to the Greeks’ infrequent concession of citizenship (cf. previous section, 4.2.2 b). The reference to Romulus’s ἐπιείκεια recalls the Roman notion of clementia, which had been recently associated with both Caesar and Augustus as their main virtue in dealing with the vanquished enemies. According to a common definition, this quality encompassed the use of a lenient treatment of those enemies who would submit to the Romans without excessive resistance (Cic. Off. 1.35; cf. Verg. Aen. 6.853: parcere subiectis et debellare superbos). However, as scholars—primarily Stefan Weinstock—have noted, with Caesar clementia was increasingly linked with the leader’s own personality, and eventually became a personal quality of his.161 The use of moderation with a defeated enemy turns up as a key aspect of Augustus’s conduct in war, too, as he himself stresses in the Res Gestae: “I often waged civil and external wars by land and sea, throughout the world, and in victory I spared all citizens who asked for mercy. I preferred to preserve rather than exterminate foreign populations who could be pardoned safely.”162 Clementia was also listed among the virtutes inscribed on the golden shield that Augustus received from the senate in 27 BC together with his honorific title (cf. n. 131 above). As Galinsky has convincingly observed, under Augustus the idea of clementia seems to have evolved into a reciprocal relationship, which “obligates both the holder of power and those in his care” to mutual cooperation.163 Interestingly, the aspect of reciprocity in bestowing clementia also emerges in Dionysius’s presentation of Romulus, as he comments, in the speech mentioned above, that the mercy showed by the Romans would prove profitable, since the Romans could receive support from those they spared (RA 2.35.3). In describing Romulus’s ἐπιείκεια, Dionysius may thus have drawn on current views about Augustus’s clementia. The incorporation of such ideas, however, does not necessarily imply that Dionysius endorsed or intended to sponsor Augustus’s foreign policy, but it is rather used by him to complement the description of Romulus’s φιλανθρωπία and to show how the Romans exploited their conquests to enlarge their population and ultimately strengthen their power.

161 Cf. Weinstock 1971: 163-7; Galinsky 1996: 84-85; Noreña 2001: 152-3. 162 RG 3.1-2: Bella terra et mari civilia externaque toto in orbe terrarum saepe gessi, victorque omnibus veniam petentibus civibus peperci. Externas gentes, quibus tuto ignosci potuit, conservare quam excidere malui. On this text, see Ramage 1987: 76-86; Cooley 2009: 116-8, and 266-70. 163 Galinsky 1996: 85.

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The theme of the integration of subject populations is further developed in the story of the war against the Sabines. The narrative of this war occupies a substantial part in most accounts of Romulus’s reign and is generally enriched with episodes about individual exploits with an aetiological element (such as those of Tarpeia and of Mettius Curtius, related by Dionysius, respectively, at chaps. 2.38.2-40 and 2.42.2-6).164 The war is described at length by Dionysius, who outlines its major episodes and the various fortunes on both sides (2.38-46). After the Sabine women manage to calm down the combatants and put an end to the conflict, the two nations enter into a peace agreement, stating that Romulus and Tatius should rule together with equal honours and authority. As a result of this settlement, the Roman people, increased by Sabine elements, are thereafter called Quirites from Cures, the city of Tatius (2.46.2; cf. Liv. 1.13.5; Ov. Fast. 2.479- 80; Plut. Rom. 19.7, Num. 3.4; Fest. 304 L; Serv. Aen. 7.710).165 For this chapter’s purposes, I will highlight only two aspects of Dionysius’s narrative: the motivation for the war and the Greek ancestry of the Sabines. As in the cases of Caenina, Antemnae, and Crustumerium, the war waged by the Sabines is also ostensibly a retaliation for the women’s abduction; but the real motive for its outbreak is ascribed by Dionysius to the Sabines’ fear of Rome’s hegemony (2.36.3).166 This distinction is important for Dionysius’s aims, since it allows him to present the Romans as responding to an unjust aggression (instead of being themselves perpetrators of an obvious wrong), in accordance with the notion of bellum iustum. Secondly, in reporting some hypotheses for the origin of the Sabine race, Dionysius includes the tradition—found “in local histories” (ἐν ἱστορίαις ἐπιχωρίοις, 2.49.4)—according to which at the time of Lycurgus a Spartan colony settled among the Sabines, who consequently acquired many Spartan customs, such as their fondness of war and their frugal

164 The war is also related in Liv. 1.11-13 and Plut. Rom. 1.17-19. The legend of Tarpeia explained the name of the Tarpeian rock; on her story cf. Varr. LL 5.41; Liv. 1.11.5-9; Ov. Fast. 1.260-1; Val. Max. 9.6.1; Plut. Rom. 17.2- 18.1; Dio in Zon. 7.3; Fest. 464, 496 L. Next, the deed of Mettius Curtius accounted for the name of the Curtian Lake (although there existed two different versions of this story); cf. Varr. LL 5.148-50; Liv. 1.12.2-13.5, 7.6.3-6; Ov. Fast. 4.402-3; Val. Max. 5.6.2; Pliny NH 15.78; Plut. Rom. 18.4; Dio in Zon. 7.25; Fest. 42 L; Oros. 3.5. Cf. Ogilvie 1965: 74-78; Liou-Gille 1998: 57-70. The war against the Sabines is discussed in Jaeger 1997: 30-56, who includes an extensive analysis of the episode of Mettius Curtius. 165 Among the measures jointly taken by Romulus and Tatius, Dionysius records: the enrollment of a hundred senators chosen among the new patrician settlers; the conferral of honours to the Sabine women; the addition of the Quirinal and the Caelian Hills to the urban area; the building of temples to Jupiter Stator by Romulus, and to the Sun and the Moon, Saturn and Rhea, Vesta, Vulcan, Diana, and Enyalius, and the dedication of tables to Juno Quiritis in the curia by Tatius (2.47-50). Cf. Varr. LL 5.74; Liv. 13.6-8; Plut. Rom. 20.1-4; see Ogilvie 1965: 72, 80-81. 166 On this point, cf. Fox 1996: 61.

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lifestyle (2.49.4-5).167 A passage from Plutarch’s Life of Numa may confirm the local origin of this story (Σαβῖνοι δὲ βούλονται Λακεδαιμονίων ἑαυτοὺς ἀποίκους γεγονέναι, 1.3). It may be argued that while Dionysius does not put too much emphasis on the ‘Greekness’ of the Sabines and on the credibility of this version of their provenance, the reference to their Spartan ancestry would not pass unnoticed to the Greek reader, especially on account of the various references to Spartan customs that are scattered in the account of Romulus’s institutions.168 Also, a Greek provenance is mentioned for other nations subdued by the Romans, such as the Caeninenses, the Antemnates, the Crustumerians, and—later in the narrative—the people of Cameria, which is said to be an Alban colony inhabited in ancient days by the Aborigines (2.50.5). In this context, the attribution of Spartan origins to the Sabines cannot be ‘neutral’ (as Gabba implies, cf. n. 168 below), but probably had the purpose of stressing the Greek contribution to the quantitative and qualitative growth of the early Roman state. As previously discussed, Dionysius defines Rome as a Greek city—as opposed to a refuge of slaves and barbarians—in both an ethnic and an ethic sense.169 The qualities of its first ruler and early inhabitants (in particular, their φιλανθρωπία) granted the city’s expansion in terms not merely of manpower, but specifically of Greek manpower and virtues through the incorporation of groups of Greek heritage. The death of Tatius represents another instance in which Dionysius turns a potentially ambivalent account into a markedly ‘pro-Roman’ (or rather ‘pro-Romulean’) story. According to his version (which agrees, in the general lines, with those of Livy and Plutarch), Tatius is killed in revenge for the murder of Lavinian ambassadors at the hand of Tatius’s followers. After the ambassadors’ death, Tatius refuses to punish those responsible and to deliver them to the Lavinians, provoking great resentment on their part. Later on, when the two co-rulers are in Lavinium to perform a sacrifice, Tatius falls victim to a plot organized by the citizens (2.51-2; cf. Liv. 1.14.1-3, and Plut. Rom. 23, in which the ambassadors are from Laurentum). Dionysius lays great emphasis upon Romulus’s sense of justice, which is reflected, for example, in his firm

167 Upon their arrival in Italy, the Spartan settlers were believed to have erected a temple to Foronia, later renamed Feronia (RA 2.49.5); cf. Serv. Aen. 7.799-800, 8.564. On the cult and sanctuary of Feronia, see Cazanove 2007: 43- 57; on the “pro-Sabine” attitude of Dionysius, cf. Musti 1970: 71-74; on the Sabines’ origin in the RA, see Gabba 1991: 115-6. On the claimed Spartan origin of Sabine families, see Farney 2007: 102-4, 2014: 443-4; also, Lee- Stecum 2014: 458-9. 168 Cf. Gabba’s observation: “Our historian, however, does not seem preoccupied with providing a Greek provenance for the Sabines even though it was potentially useful for his own thesis” (1991: 116). 169 RA 1.89.1, cited above, chap. 4.2.2 a: “as a result, let one by now on confidently declare—having considered to dismiss the many views of those who make Rome a refuge of barbarians, runaways, and homeless people—that [Rome] is a Greek city, having demonstrated that it is the most impartial and welcoming of the cities.”

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intention to deliver the killers of the ambassadors for punishment (1.51.2, 1.52.1) and in his dutiful conduct in the face of the transgression of a sacred law (2.52.2; 2.53.1); also, after Tatius’s death, Romulus is said to have freed his murderers “with much justice” (δικαιότερα; 2.53.1), since they professed to have avenged violence with violence.170 Even in this case, Dionysius’s positive depiction of Romulus conflicts with other, less generous, portrayals. In Livy’s version of the episode, for instance, he insinuates that upon receiving the news of Tatius’s death Romulus’s countenance was not wholly appropriate: “They say that Romulus bore that matter with less grief than it was suitable, either on account of the treacherous nature of the joint sovereignty or because he believed that the killing of Tatius had been by no means unjust.”171 Plutarch, for his part, offers an overtly negative assessment of Romulus’s conduct, stating that “he was completely careless about the murder case” (τῆς δὲ δίκης τοῦ φόνου παντάπασιν ἠμέλησεν, Rom. 23.3) and acquitted the culprits, who had been spontaneously delivered to him by the Laurentines. Like Livy, Plutarch asserts: “and this led to some talk and suspicion that being rid of his colleague made him glad” (τοῦτο δὲ λόγον μέν τινα παρέσχε καὶ ὑποψίαν, ὡς ἀσμένῳ γέγονεν αὐτῷ τὸ τοῦ συνάρχοντος ἀπαλλαγῆναι, Rom. 23.4). Dionysius, on the other hand, not only is silent about the accusations of Romulus feeling relieved at Tatius’s death, but even attempts to accentuate the king’s virtues by ascribing exemplary conduct to him in his handling of a serious diplomatic accident. The victories over Fidenae, Cameria, and the Etruscan city state of Veii win for Romulus his second and third triumphs.172 It may be no coincidence that Dionysius ascribes three triumphs to Romulus. This element is found in the later account of Plutarch as well, but it seems virtually absent in earlier writers and may in fact have originated in the early Augustan age as a precedent for Augustus’s celebration of his triple triumph in 29 BC. Livy, as previously discussed, does not mention an actual triumph for Romulus.173 Like the previous wars, these conflicts too are described

170 Cf. Mora 1995: 217-8. 171 Liv. 1.14.3: eam rem minus aegre quam dignum erat tulisse Romulum ferunt, seu ob infidam societatem regni seu quia haud iniuria caesum credebat. See comments in Ogilvie 1965: 81. 172 Dionysius relates that for his second triumph Romulus dedicated a chariot drawn by four horses to Vulcanus, together with a statue of himself bearing a Greek inscription (2.54.1-2; cf. Plut. Rom. 24.3). The dedication of an empty chariot drawn by four horses is attested on coinage for Caesar, possibly in 46 BC, and Augustus after his victory over either Sextus Pompeius or Antony (see Weinstock 1971: 54-59, with references). A chariot was moreover set up in Augustus’s honour in his forum, under which the title pater patriae was inscribed (RG 35.1, commented in Cooley 2009: 275-6; cf. Rich 1998: 115-25). 173 On Livy’s passage, cf. Pittenger 2008: 276-7 with n. 6. Augustus refers to his triple triumph in RG 4.1. After that, he turned down all successive offers of triumphs; see Cooley 2009: 121-3; cf. Beard 2007: 68-71, 295-305 on the changes that triumph underwent under Augustus’s rule.

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by Dionysius as lawful responses by the Romans to unfair provocations. The idea of waging just war was integral to the Romans’ mentality and self-presentation: war was commonly described by Roman Late Republican writers as a means to preserve peace and safety for the country and was thus legitimate only when waged to avert an enemy attack or to avenge a serious offence, after attempts at a peaceful settling had failed (cf. Cic. Off. 1.34-35; Rep. 3.34-35; Livy refers to bellum iustum in several passages: see, e.g., 3.25.3, 7.30.17, 9.1.10, 9.8.6, 9.11.11, 21.18.1, etc.).174 The notion of bellum iustum was especially emphasized under Augustus, who, in his numerous campaigns, promoted an image of himself as a just and pious pacifier rather than a conqueror. In the Res Gestae, for instance, the princeps claims: “I had the Alps pacified from the region which is close to the Adriatic Sea to the Tyrrhenian, with no war being waged against any nations unjustly” (Alpes a regione ea quae proxima est Hadriano mari ad Tuscum pacari feci nulli genti bello per iniuriam inlato, RG 26.3).175 Considering the continuous associations of Augustus with the founder of Rome, it is reasonable to assume that this aspect of Augustus’s self-presentation eventually influenced contemporary depictions of Romulus—perhaps prompted by Augustus himself—in order to both establish further parallels between the two rulers and create a conspicuous precedent for Augustus’s conduct.

4.3 Numa, the Peaceful Leader

In the present section, I will consider Dionysius’s account of Numa’s reign. In particular, I will focus on Dionysius’s treatment of the interregnum following Romulus’s death and Numa’s election as king (4.3.1), and Numa’s role as lawgiver in both religious and civil matters (4.3.2). The examination of these aspects of Dionysius’s account will prove particularly useful in understanding Dionysius’s political views and presentation of the early Roman government, since they highlight the nature of the constitutional continuity between the reigns of first two kings and their legislative achievements as well as the idea that the Roman constitution developed as an

174 Cf. Ramage 1987: 89 n. 211; Fox 1996: 61-62. 175 On RG 26.3, cf. Cooley 2009: 223; on the contemporary evolution of the idea of bellum iustum, cf. Gruen 1985: 51-72; Ramage 1987: 86-91; Brunt 1990: 96-109; Galinsky 1996: 85-86; Rich 2003: 329-57; Eck 2007: 123-36. This image of the princeps was not only already popular in his lifetime (cf., e.g., Hor. Carm. 1.12.53-54; Ov. AA 1.200-1) but was conceivably transmitted and elaborated by later sources. Suetonius, for example, echoes Augustus’s statement in the Res Gestae as he affirms: “nor did he inflict war upon any people without just and critical reasons” (nec ulli genti sine iustis et necessariis causis bellum intulit, Suet. Aug. 21.2).

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agreement between the political elements (namely, the senate and the people), which was adapted, case by case, according to the development of political circumstances.176

4.3.1 Numa’s Election and Introduction to Rome (RA 2.58-61)

Numa did not succeed to Romulus as his designated heir. Romulus’s death was in fact followed by the establishment of an extraordinary magistracy, the interregnum (μεσοβασιλεία), which had the purpose of ensuring the stability of the government and the auspicia until the election of a successor. This was the function of the interregnum in historical times, in accordance with the principle that, in the case of the death of both consuls, auspicia ad patres redeunt (cf. Cic. ad Brut. 1.5.4, Leg. 3.9; Liv. 1.32.1). The sources’ projection of this institution back to the monarchy was likely intended to demonstrate the continuity from the power of the kings to that of the consuls and, most importantly, to show that the senators were its legitimate original holders, having been invested with the royal power at the death of Romulus. The interregnum essentially functioned with single colleges of ten senators who, in rotation, individually held supreme power and acted as interrex for five days each.177 Dionysius uses the story of the origin of this institution to corroborate two important elements of his historical construction: first, the monarchic rule of Numa, just like that of Romulus, was deliberately chosen as a form of government by the Roman people, in continuity and accordance with his predecessor’s policies; and secondly, the Romans (unlike the Greeks) were able to settle their instances of στάσις profitably and amicably. Dionysius shows the peculiar and admirable characteristics of the Roman government by introducing at this point of his account another constitutional debate (the first one having been placed before Romulus’s formal election; cf. RA 2.3-4, examined at chap. 4.2.1). As he relates it, after one year of interregnum the Roman people grew tired of the constant transfer of power among senators and were thus given the opportunity by the senate to decide whom they wanted to entrust the public affairs to, whether a king or annual magistrates. The assembly remits the decision to the senators, who unanimously

176 For an overview of Dionysius’s presentation of Numa’s kingdom and general comparisons with the account of Livy and Plutarch, see Mora 1995: 223-76. 177 Cf. Magdelain 1964a: 427-73; Ogilvie 1965: 87-88; Palmer 1970: 197-200, 206-12, 226-32; Cornell 1995: 142-3; Liou-Gille 1998: 103-8, with further bibliography. On the first interregnum, cf. Cic. Rep. 2.23; Liv. 1.17.5-6; Plut. Num. 2.6-7; Dio in Ioann. Antioch. fr. 32 M.

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declare in favour of a monarchy (2.57.3-4).178 The current form of government, then, is not imposed upon the Romans arbitrarily, but is the product of a democratic decision. Besides stressing this idea, through this report Dionysius also underscores the harmonious cooperation between the two main political bodies—the popular assembly and the senate—as a further proof of the sentiment of ὁμόνοια that governed civic relations at Rome (cf. chap. 4.2.2 a). At this point, however, dissension is said to have arisen among the patricians, who are at odds over the status of the person to elect: some want a king from the old senators and others from those enrolled later (that is, the Sabines or new patricians). Eventually, they agree to appoint as king a man outside both parties and assign the task of the election to the older senators (RA 2.57.4- 58.1). The order of the events related by Dionysius differs from the accounts of Livy and Plutarch, who both set a comparable outburst of civil strife right after Romulus’s death, before the creation of the interregnum. As related in Livy and Plutarch, the factional strife concerns the ethnicity of the future king, the Romans being unwilling to elect a foreigner and the Sabines, in turn, demanding one of their number as ruler. In both accounts, the institution of the interregnum is described not so much as a way to guarantee the regular administration of the public affairs (as in Dionysius’s version), but as a means of putting an end to internal conflict (cf. Liv. 1.17.1-4; Plut. Num. 2.4-7). In contrast, by setting the outbreak of civil discord at the time when the year of interregnum is about to expire, Dionysius achieves the goal of emphasizing the overall civil harmony about political matters. At the same time, he minimizes the moment of conflict by limiting it to the patricians (rather than extending it to the whole community) and by concluding it with an amicable agreement. Therefore, while the differences with the versions given in other sources may be slight, by changing simple details Dionysius is able to give a substantially different colouring to the events he relates and, ultimately, to highlight once again the civic virtues of the Romans. Dionysius introduces Numa Pompilius, the king elect, to his narrative with a favourable description of his character: “He was at the age best suited for wisdom, being almost forty, and royal in his dignified aspect. And his renown was the greatest not only among the citizens of Cures,

178 Cf. the versions of Livy and Plutarch, who both state—with a very similar wording—that the people and the senate were all in favour of a monarchy; no alternatives are presented in their accounts ( Liv. 1.17.3: regnari tamen omnes uolebant; Plut. Num. 2.4: βασιλεύεσθαι μὲν ἐδόκει πᾶσιν). Cf. Fromentin 2004: 320-1.

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but also among all the neighbouring nations on account of his wisdom.”179 This description agrees with that provided by most extant sources, as Numa’s wisdom and vast learning were proverbial. Livy offers a similar assessment in his account: “a man most expert, as far as anyone in that age could be, in all divine and human law” (consultissimus uir, ut in illa quisquam esse aetate poterat, omnis diuini atque humani iuris, Liv. 1.18.1). Plutarch depicts Numa in comparable terms: “by nature having a well blended character for every virtue, he had tamed himself even more through education and endurance and pursuit of knowledge” (φύσει δὲ πρὸς πᾶσαν ἀρετὴν εὖ κεκραμένος τὸ ἦθος, ἔτι μᾶλλον αὑτὸν ἐξημέρωσε διὰ παιδείας καὶ κακοπαθείας καὶ φιλοσοφίας, Num. 3.5; cf. 3.3: “being so well-known for his virtue that ...” γνώριμον δ̓ οὕτω δι᾽ ἀρετὴν ὄντα). But while in other literary sources Numa’s qualities are generally linked with his peaceful rule and his paramount care of religious matters and are in fact contrasted with Romulus’s character (cf. chap. 4.1, introduction, and 4.1.2), in the Roman Antiquities they emerge in a close relation of continuity with Romulus’s government and are linked to the development of the Roman constitution. Before starting the actual narrative of Numa’s reign, Dionysius expresses his doubts about a popular story that had been handed down about Numa, specifically, his alleged association with the philosopher Pythagoras of Samos, whom some sources regarded as Numa’s teacher. Dionysius states that many writers had connected Numa with Pythagoras because of his learning, but he dismisses this tradition on chronological grounds, since Pythagoras lived “four entire generations” after Numa (2.59.2), and the city of Croton, where Pythagoras resided for part of his life and possibly established a school, had not yet been founded at the time of Numa (2.59.3-4). Livy, on the other hand, openly rejects this story for both practical and ethical reasons. Apart from chronological considerations (he places Pythagoras’ floruit under the reign of Servius Tullius), Livy seems extremely sceptical about the possibility that Pythagoras’ fame could have reached the Sabines, that he could have communicated in a language intelligible to the Latins, and that he could have travelled all the way to Latium (Liv. 1.18.2-3). But, most of all, Livy rejects the idea that Numa’s wisdom should come from a foreign source, when it should in fact be ascribed to his Sabine lineage and austere upbringing: “therefore, I rather think that his spirit was tempered by his own intellect in virtues, and trained not so much by foreign arts as by the severe and strict discipline

179 RA 2.58.2-3: ἡλικίας τε τῆς φρονιμωτάτης ὄντα, τετταρακονταετίας γὰρ οὐ πολὺ ἀπεῖχε, καὶ ἀξιώσει μορφῆς βασιλικόν. 3 ἦν δὲ αὐτοῦ καὶ κλέος μέγιστον οὐ παρὰ Κυρίταις μόνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ παρὰ τοῖς περιοίκοις ἐπὶ σοφίᾳ.

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of the ancient Sabines, compared to which race nothing was more uncorrupted in the old days.”180 This polemical note—which was also advanced in similar terms by Cicero (cf. Rep. 2.28-29)—is later reflected in Plutarch, who disputes the validity of its argument:

Therefore, when they say that Numa was acquainted with Pythagoras, some claim unreservedly that Numa had no share in Greek learning, as if either by nature he was capable and self-sufficient with respect to virtue, or the learning of the king depended on some barbarian who was better than Pythagoras.181

Plutarch, moreover, hypothesizes that this story may refer to a different Pythagoras, namely, the Olympic victor Pythagoras of Sparta, who lived around the mid-seventh century BC (Num. 1.3). Dionysius had already dismissed this argument, stating that no authorities would support the view that another Pythagoras taught philosophy before the Samian (RA 2.59.4). The first qualities that Dionysius shows as distinctive for Numa are his wisdom (σοφία) and, implicitly, his moderation (σωφροσύνη). In order to depict him as a wise and temperate man, Dionysius lingers on the story of Numa’s official call to Rome and his persistent refusal of the royal title. He relates that when the Roman ambassadors went to Cures to fetch Numa, at first, he firmly rejected their offer. Only upon the insistence of his brothers and father did Numa agree to become king (2.60.1). Dionysius suggests that Numa’s refusal of this honour depended on his sensible mind and his slight regard for power, and makes this evident through the report of the enthusiastic reaction and broad agreement that Numa’s conduct created among the Romans:

When the Romans learned this [i.e., Numa’s consent] from the ambassadors, a great desire for him came upon them before they could see the man with their eyes, believing that it was sufficient evidence of his

180 Liv. 1.18.4: suopte igitur ingenio temperatum animum uirtutibus fuisse opinor magis instructumque non tam peregrinis artibus quam disciplina tetrica ac tristi ueterum Sabinorum, quo genere nullum quondam incorruptius fuit. Cf. also Cic. Tusc. Disp. 4.2-4, Rep. 2.28-29 (above); Diod. 8.14, who relates this report as hearsay (λέγουσι δέ τινες) but does not dispute it; Ov. Fast. 3.151-4, Met. 15.1-8, 60-72, 479-81; Pont. 3.3.41-44. For a comment on Livy’s passage, see Ogilvie 1965: 88-91; Musti 1970: 74-75; Luce 1977: 235 n. 11, 246, and 1995: 233; Miles 1995: 149-50. On the conventional austerity of the Sabines see, e.g., Verg. Georg. 2.167, 532. On Pythagoras’ migration to Croton, cf. Strab. 14.1.16, C 638. On the revival of Pythagorean philosophy in the late Republic, see Rawson 1985: 291-4; Liou-Gille 1998: 167-70; Gruen 2011: 345-6. The tradition about Numa and Pythagoras and its origins are discussed in Gabba 1967: 154-64, 1991: 13-14; and, more recently, Humm 2004: 125-37; Boulet 2004: 245-256; Gallia 2007: 59-60. According to a popular tradition, in 181 BC Numa’s coffin was found at the feet of the Janiculum. Either the coffin itself or a second coffin or chest contained books (in variable numbers) with Numa’s writings. The praetor Q. Paetilius read them and found that they were inspired by Pythagorean teachings. He referred the discovery to the senate, who decided to burn all (or part of) the books, since their content appeared to question traditional religion (cf. Liv. 40.29.3-14, citing Valerius Antias; Val. Max. 1.1.12; August. Civ. D. 7.34, citing Varro; see Willi 1998: 139-72). On the treatment of Pythagorean philosophy in the RA and in Plutarch’s Life of Numa, cf. also Mora 1995: 224-31. 181 Plut. Num. 1.2: λεγομένου δὲ οὖν ὡς Νομᾶς γένοιτο Πυθαγόρου συνήθης, οἱ μὲν ὅλως ἀξιοῦσι μηδὲν Ἑλληνικῆς παιδεύσεως Νομᾷ μετεῖναι, καθάπερ ἢ φύσει δυνατὸν καὶ αὐτάρκη γενέσθαι πρὸς ἀρετὴν ἢ βελτίονι Πυθαγόρου βαρβάρῳ τινὶ τὴν τοῦ βασιλέως ἀποδοῦναι παίδευσιν. References to the Pythagorean doctrines are numerous in Plutarch’s biography, and many of Numa’s measures are compared by Plutarch to Pythagorean precepts (cf. Num. 8.4-10, 11.1, 14.2-3, 22.3-4).

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wisdom, that, while the others esteemed sovereignty exceedingly and associated the blessed life with it, he alone looked down upon it as some slight matter unworthy of esteem.182

Livy’s contemporary account does not mention the detail of Numa’s reluctance, which is extensively treated in the later narrative of Plutarch. However, there is a subtle difference between Dionysius’s and Plutarch’s versions. Plutarch, through the long speech that Numa gives to the Roman ambassadors, describes in quasi-philosophical tones Numa’s doubts about governing a city which had been founded and expanded through war; and he makes Numa carefully consider the risks to which those holding supreme power are subject, an example being the allegations brought against Romulus after the death of Tatius (Num. 5-6). Thus, Plutarch’s version of Numa’s recusatio, although likely drawing on Dionysius’s work, appears concerned with personal preoccupations of moral and philosophical nature.183 Dionysius’s description of this episode appears instead as a device to emphasize not only Numa’s qualities but also his responsibilities towards the Roman community and his new political role. As previously discussed, Romulus, before his official investiture, declares himself—in a comparable manner—to be willing to comply with the people’s decision and not to seek additional honours (RA 2.3.8; chap. 4.2.1). It is evident that in the case of Numa as well Dionysius intended to underline, besides the king’s own virtues, the aspect of collaboration between the king and the political elements of the city.184 The emphasis on Numa’s wisdom is further developed in Dionysius’s account and appears to represent an important aspect of his portrayal of the second king. Dionysius indeed takes great pains to disprove both the supernatural origin of Numa’s virtues and the relationship, seemingly of an ambiguous nature (as argued below), which he allegedly had with the nymph Egeria. The legend of Numa’s dealings with the nymph, which was popular among the literary sources, is

182 RA 2.60.2: τοῖς δὲ Ῥωμαίοις πυθομένοις ταῦτα παρὰ τῶν πρεσβευτῶν, πρὶν ὄψει τὸν ἄνδρα ἰδεῖν πολὺς αὐτοῦ παρέστη πόθος, ἱκανὸν ἡγουμένοις τεκμήριον εἶναι τῆς σοφίας, εἰ τῶν ἄλλων ὑπὲρ τὸ μέτριον ἐκτετιμηκότων βασιλείαν καὶ τὸν εὐδαίμονα βίον ἐν ταύτῃ τιθεμένων μόνος ἐκεῖνος ὡς φαύλου τινὸς καὶ οὐκ ἀξίου σπουδῆς πράγματος καταφρονεῖ. Dionysius, next, states that Numa’s election received a triple endorsement (through the vote of the curiae and the senate, and by divine auspices). Livy does not mention this particular but reports meticulously the ceremony of Numa’s inauguratio on the citadel (Liv. 18.6-10). Plutarch, like Dionysius, relates that Numa was enthusiastically greeted by the people upon his arrival and that the assembly voted in favour of his election. Also, like Livy, Plutarch carefully describes Numa’s inauguratio (Num. 7.1-3). The absence of this ceremony from Dionysius’s history may appear unusual, considering its importance in the Roman religious tradition, and one may wonder if Dionysius left it out because of its evident Etruscan origin. The procedure followed by the augur in this ceremony is described in Varr. LL 7.7-8. On Numa’s inauguratio, cf. Ogilvie 1965: 91-93; Magdelain 1977: 11-29; Coarelli 1981: 173-88; Beard, North, Price 1998: 22-23; Liou-Gille 1998: 113-23. 183 See, e.g., De Blois and Bons 1992: 159-88. 184 Even Dionysius’s description of Numa’s refusal has prompted parallels with Augustus’s ostentatious refusal of honors (on which, see Cooley 2009: 127-30, 148-50, 201, 212; cf. De Blois and Bons 1992: 163; Rehak 2001: 198; Györi 2013: 97-98; cf. chap. 1.3 n. 81).

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dismissed here as a fabulous account (cf. 2.60.5: μυθολογοῦσιν).185 Dionysius contrasts this report with the version transmitted by “those who remove all fabulous elements from history” (οἱ δὲ τὰ μυθώδη πάντα περιαιροῦντες ἐκ τῆς ἱστορίας, 2.61.1). Such authors (whose identity is not specified) advanced the hypothesis that the relationship between Numa and Egeria had been invented by Numa himself in the attempt to gain respect and obedience from the people by ascribing his laws to a divine source. This version implied that Numa exploited the people’s credulity to consolidate his power. Livy, who evidently shared this view, presents the tale of Egeria as a device to inculcate the fear of the gods into the people’s mind:

And since this [the fear of the gods] could not penetrate into their minds without some invention of a marvel, he pretended that he had nocturnal encounters with the goddess Egeria; that on her advice he instituted the sacred rites which were most pleasing to the gods, that he appointed individual priests to each of the gods.186

According to Livy, Numa had substituted the metus hostium and the disciplina militaris with the metus deorum (Liv. 1.19.4; cf. Cic. Rep. 2.25): Numa’s feigned familiarity with Egeria represented a sort of ‘benevolent’ deception with the aim of addressing the Roman people towards the gods’ worship and submission.187 Dionysius does not rule in favour of either version of the story. However, he supports the validity of the second by reminding his readers of examples from the Greek tradition of rulers who had successfully exploited their divine connection to gain the people’s obedience—such as Minos of Crete and Lycurgus of Sparta, who claimed to have composed their law codes under the instructions, respectively, of Zeus and Apollo (2.61.2). These examples are evidently intended by Dionysius as precedents for Numa’s claims of having dealings with Egeria.188 Such a stratagem is mentioned in Plutarch’s account as well and is openly praised

185 This story comprised some fantasy tales: one (related by Dionysius and Plutarch) mentions the portentous appearing of a sumptuous banquet in Numa’s house as evidence of his relationship with the goddess (RA 2.60.5-7; Plut. Num. 15.2); next, Valerius Antias (cited in Arnob. 5.1) and Ovid (Fast. 3.285-348) report an episode about the capture of Picus and Faunus (also found in Plut. Num. 15.3-6, who adds that Numa had a conversation with Jupiter in this occasion); Ccf. Gagé 1974: 281-98; Pasco-Pranger 2002: 291-312; Briquel 2004: 37-53; on Ovid’s treatment of Numa, see Littlewood 2002: 175-97; Deremetz 2013: 28-43. As for the origin of the story, just as the legend of Numa’s association with Pythagoras conceivably developed in the context of early diplomatic contacts between Rome and southern Italy, so the story of Egeria likely developed within the relations and religious rivalry between Rome and Aricia in the late sixth century BC (see Alföldi 1965, especially, 15-16, 48-56, 337-9, 398-419; and Ogilvie 1965: 102-3). 186 Liv. 1.19.5: qui [i.e., deorum metus] cum descendere ad animos sine aliquo commento miraculi non posset, simulat sibi cum dea Egeria congressus nocturnos esse; eius se monitu quae acceptissima dis essent sacra instituere, sacerdotes suos cuique deorum praeficere. Cf. 1.21.3: Numa used to retire alone to a grove pretending that he was meeting with Egeria (uelut ad congressum deae) and consecrated the place to the prophetic water goddesses known as Camenae (among whom there was Egeria). For the etymology of Camenae see Varr. LL 7.28. 187 On Livy’s text, cf. comments in Szmler 1972: 41-42; Kennedy 1992: 44-46; Forsythe 1999: 49-51; Koch 2003, esp. 302-6; Penwill 2004: 28-55. 188 Cf. Delcourt 2005: 176-7. On this episode in the RA, see also Mora 1995: 231-6.

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in the cases of Lycurgus and Numa for its pragmatism and the beneficial effects it bestowed on the commoners:

For the other story, which they relate about Lycurgus and Numa and other alike men, has nothing tawdry about it, that, as they were mastering multitudes hard to hold and to appease and introducing great innovations in the constitutions, they affected credit from the god, bringing deliverance precisely to those against whom they dissimulated.189

As previously observed (chap. 4.2.2 c), Dionysius never affirms openly to be in favour of political uses of religion. However, his rather incredulous approach to this episode, which he labels as a fable, and the overall favourable tone of his discussion of Numa’s conduct may indicate a certain approval on his part (as already noted in the case of Romulus’s religious measures). On the other hand, Dionysius refrains from discussing the matter in further detail and moves on to the account of Numa’s laws (RA 2.61.3). As Driediger-Murphy observes, in spite of his refusal to take a firm position, Dionysius’s language reveals serious doubts about the credibility of this sort of story, as the occurrence in the relevant text of terms like μυθολογοῦσιν, μυθώδη, and μυθικῶν suggests (respectively, 2.60.5, 2.61.1, and 2.61.3). She argues that the reason behind Dionysius’s doubts could depend on his “sexual ethics.”190 In fact, while Dionysius is not explicit about the nature of the alleged relationship between Numa and Egeria, the phrase he uses to describe Egeria’s visits to the king (2.60.5, μυθολογοῦσιν Ἠγερίαν φοιτᾶν πρὸς αὐτὸν), with the double meaning of the verb φοιτάω as “vising” as well as “having sexual intercourse,” implies a certain ambiguity of reading.191 At chapter 2.1.3 d, I discussed some criteria, conjectured by scholars, through which Dionysius approaches mythological material. Among these, Dionysius appears to have rejected myths involving sexual interactions between gods and humans—such as the cases of Rhea Silvia and Mars (RA 1.77.2-3) and of Servius Tullius’s conception (RA 4.2)—because they impugn the upright nature of the gods by ascribing morally unacceptable behaviour to them (cf. also the discussion about myths at chap. 4.2.2 c, above). If we follow Driediger-Murphy’s convincing hint, we may include the episode of Numa and Egeria in this category and assume that Dionysius also rejected the story on moral grounds.

189 Plut. Num. 4.8: οὐδὲ γὰρ ἅτερος λόγος ἔχει τι φαῦλον, ὃν περὶ Λυκούργου καὶ Νομᾶ καὶ τοιούτων ἄλλων ἀνδρῶν λέγουσιν, ὡς δυσκάθεκτα καὶ δυσάρεστα πλήθη χειρούμενοι καὶ μεγάλας ἐπιφέροντες ταῖς πολιτείαις καινοτομίας, προσεποιήσαντο τὴν ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ δόξαν, αὐτοῖς ἐκείνοις πρὸς οὓς ἐσχηματίζοντο σωτήριον οὖσαν. 190 Driediger-Murphy 2014: 337-8; cf. Gabba 1991: 124-5; Poma 1994: 542-50; Engels 2012: 151-75. 191 Driediger-Murphy 2014: 338.

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Having carefully depicted the new ruler as a pious and wise figure, elected with the general agreement of the Roman people, Dionysius sets out to describe his constitutional activity. Both Numa’s virtues and his initiatives (which are discussed in the following section) set him as a worthy heir to Romulus, who enhanced the Roman constitution and Roman society in general by encouraging the practice of civic virtues.

4.3.2 Numa’s Civic and Religious Initiatives (RA 2.62-75)

According to Dionysius’s account, the first measures enacted by Numa as king were intended to re-establish social concord. It was noted in the previous section how Dionysius, unlike Livy and Plutarch, sets the senators’ contention over who to appoint as king after the institution of the interregnum, but he does not indulge in elaborating on this. Rather, he underscores the amicable resolution of the conflict as well as the atmosphere of concord and enthusiasm in which Numa was elected and welcomed to Rome. After introducing Numa to his narrative, however, Dionysius not only resumes the topic of the strife among the patricians, but even outlines a scenario of major extended discord, which provides the context for Numa’s reconciliatory action. The discord begins in the higher levels of society: “disagreement and strife started in [the senate] regarding pre- eminence and equality” ([ἡ βουλὴ] διαφέρεσθαι καὶ στασιάζειν αὐτὴ πρὸς ἑαυτὴν ἤρξατο περὶ τοῦ πλείονός τε καὶ ἴσου, 2.62.1). The division is between the older elements, who claim a right to greater privileges and precedence in political matters, and the senators elected from the new settlers, who want to enjoy the same honours as the others (2.62.2). The dispute among the senators extends to their clients (a detail omitted in the earlier discussion of Numa’s election, cf. 2.57.4- 2.58.1), who join the respective factions. In addition, a large number of plebeians, who had been recently admitted to the citizen body and had no land or means of sustenance, show themselves to be “most eager to make political changes” (νεωτερίζειν ἑτοιμότατον, 2.62.3), that is, to engage in some seditious action. Numa, finding “the affairs of the city rolling in such a turmoil” (ἐν τοιούτῳ δὴ κλύδωνι τὰ πράγματα τῆς πόλεως σαλεύοντα, 2.62.4), promptly intervenes: he distributes public lands to the plebeians to relieve their poverty,192 and bestows honours on the new patricians to placate their resentment (ibid). In this way—Dionysius states with a vivid image—Numa is able

192 Gabba (1991: 175-7) argues that Dionysius here follows a tradition that projected the agrarian issues of the Gracchan age back to the post-Romulean era. This land distribution is also mentioned in Plut. Num. 16.3 and Cic. Rep. 2.26. Cicero emphasizes the civilizing action of Numa, and especially his teaching of husbandry.

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“to tune the whole multitude like an instrument” (ἁρμοσάμενος δὲ τὸ πλῆθος ἅπαν ὥσπερ ὄργανον, 2.62.5) and subsequently turns to institutional matters with the aim of instilling “first piety and then justice” (εὐσέβειαν μὲν πρῶτον...ἔπειτα δικαιοσύνην).193 Dionysius reiterates, in the description of Numa’s institutions, the ideas of civic virtue and ὁμόνοια, which occupy such a prominent place in his account of the Romulean constitution— almost being its leitmotifs. The staging of a highly tense situation at the beginning of Numa’s reign stresses the beneficial consequences of his rule right from his election and sets the standard for all his subsequent measures, which will be directed to the maintenance of peace, both internally and between Rome and its allies. On the other hand, the renovation of civil harmony and the pursuit of piety and justice indicate that Numa’s government will ensure full continuity with Romulus’s rule. As previously observed, Dionysius states—ascribing these thoughts to Romulus—that a well- governed city is founded on laws that inspire the citizens to behave in accordance with piety, moderation, and justice (cf. RA 2.3.1-6, 2.18.1-2). Numa’s measures are presented as being in line with such principles. This concept is further emphasized when Dionysius relates that Numa, in regulating the religious matters of the city, left untouched all the laws and customs established by Romulus, “considering that they had all been prescribed in the most excellent manner” (ἀπὸ τοῦ κρατίστου τετάχθαι πάντα ἡγησάμενος, 2.63.2). His task appears limited to adding to Romulus’s measures rather than innovating himself.194 In agreement with other extant accounts of Numa’s reign, in Dionysius’s history, too, the major initiatives undertaken by the second king concern the worship of the gods (cf., e.g., Cic. Rep. 2.26-27; Liv. 1.19-20; Plut. Num. 7.4-13). Dionysius—emphasizing Numa’s religious devotion as well the beneficial results of this on the Roman state—relates that the second king established cults to the gods who had received no honours before, erected several altars and temples, instituted festivals, appointed priests, and enacted laws concerning rites and religious ceremonies, “more than any city either Greek or barbarian has, even those which take the greatest pride in their piety” (ὅσας οὔθ᾽ Ἑλληνὶς οὔτε βάρβαρος ἔχει πόλις οὐδ᾽ αἱ μέγιστον ἐπ᾽ εὐσεβείᾳ

193 Dionysius’s emphasis on the overt temporal order of the virtues that Numa sought to establish agrees with the order assigned to their pursuit by Romulus in the previously examined passage introducing Romulus’s religious regulations (cf. RA 2.18.1, chap. 4.2.2 c, above) and, in general, with the priority that Dionysius seems to ascribe to piety over the other virtues (cf., e.g., RA 1.5.3). 194 As also noted by Gordon (2003: 79). Already at the end of his account on Romulus’s religious institutions, Dionysius states that although Numa created many new ones, Romulus planted “the[ir] seeds” and laid “the[ir] foundations” (τὰ σπέρματα καὶ τὰς ἀρχὰς, 2.23.6).

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φρονοῦσαί ποτε, 2.63.2).195 Numa, we are told, drew up these provisions in writing and divided them among eight bodies: the curiones, who performed the public sacrifices for the curiae,196 the flamines,197 the commanders of the celeres, the augurs, the Vestals,198 the Salii Palatini,199 the fetiales, and the pontifices.200 For each one, Dionysius supplies a thorough explanation about its origin and functions, and narrates anecdotes handed down by the Roman tradition.201 While most of the information that Dionysius provides is not strictly relevant to the characterization of Numa and the purposes of the present chapter, the report on the prerogatives of the fetiales deserves a separate treatment, because it furthers the ideal of bellum iustum that is touched upon in the narrative of Romulus’s wars and that, as previously remarked, was essential to the Romans’ self- conception.

195 Among Numa’s measures, Dionysius includes the institution of divine honours to Romulus, thereafter identified with Quirinus, and the erection of a temple to this god. Dionysius relates that Romulus’s apotheosis was witnessed by a certain Julius, descendant of Ascanius—and thus an ancestor of the Julii (2.63.3-4; on the episode of Julius Proculus see references at chap. 4.1.1 n. 7; in addition, cf. Mora 1995: 236-7 on Dionysius’s passage). The figure of Julius Proculus was likely inserted in the Romulean legend in the third quarter of the first century BC within the context of the self-promotional activity of the Julian family. It is generally recognized that the identification of the deified Romulus with Quirinus took place around the same time and within the same circumstances, perhaps as a result of the manoeuvrings of Julius Caesar himself, who may have sponsored his association with the deified founder. As mentioned at chap. 4.1.1, in 45 BC the senate erected a statue of Caesar as θεὸς ἀνίκητος in the temple of Quirinus (Dio 43.45.3), which likely strengthened this association. The temple of Quirinus, moreover, was restored by Augustus in 16 BC (cf. RG 19.2, on which see Cooley 2009: 190; Dio 54.19.4; cf. Gros 1976: 115-8). On Romulus’s apotheosis and his identification with Quirinus, besides the references given at n. 7, see Ogilvie 1965: 84-86; Coarelli 1981: 173-88, 1983: 41-46; Magdelain 1984: 195-237; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 45-74; Evans 1992: 103-6; Porte 1993: 18-26; Liou-Gille 1998: 95-99. 196 On the sacrifices performed by the curiae, see references at n. 12, chap. 4.1.1 above. 197 On their creation, cf. Liv. 1.20.1-2, with Ogilvie 1965: 97, and Liou-Gille 1998: 174-6; Plut. Num. 7.4-5. 198 The institution of Vesta’s cult was variously ascribed to Numa or Romulus (RA 2.65-67; cf. Liv. 1.20.3; Plut. Num. 9.5, 10-11). On the institutions and functions of the Vestals, see Beard, North, and Price 1998, esp. 18-30, 51- 59, 81-82; cf. also Ogilvie 1965: 97-98; Mastrocinque 1993: 66-73; Liou-Gille 1998: 176-8. The cult of Vesta received great emphasis in the Augustan period. As pontifex maximus Augustus made part of his house on the Palatine public (Dio 54.27.3) and built a new shrine of Vesta in it, thus establishing a personal connection with the goddess (see Edwards 1996: 61-62; Beard, North, Price 1998: 189-91; Galinsky 2007: 74, 76; on Vesta’s temple on the Palatine, cf. Gros 1976: 20 n. 46, 32 n. 121). 199 Dionysius compares the peculiar style of war dancing of the Salii with the ritual dances of the Curetes (RA 2.70- 71; cf. Liv. 1.20.4; Plut. Num. 13). On the legend of the Salii’s ancilia cf. Ov. Fast. 3.345-92. A second college, the Salii Collini, dedicated to Quirinus, was voted by Tullus Hostilius (RA 2.70.1, 3.32.4; Liv. 1.27.7). See Ogilvie 1965: 98-100; Beard, North, Price 1998: 43; Liou-Gille: 178-80. Augustus’s name was added in the Salian hymn (RG 10.1; Dio 51.20.1; Cooley 2009: 147), a song notoriously judged incomprehensible because of its archaic language (cf. Varr. 6.45, 7.3; Hor. Ep. 2.1.86-89; Quint. Inst. 1.6.40). 200 RA 2.64, 2.70-73; cf. Cic. de Or. 3.73; Liv. 1.20.5-7; Plut. Num. 9.1-4, 12.1. Dionysius proposes some Greek equivalents for their name: ἱεροδιδάσκαλοι, ἱερονόμοι, ἱεροφύλακες, and ἱεροφάνται, meaning, respectively, “teachers of holy things,” “temple-wardens,” “guardians of temples,” and “interpreters of sacred rites” (2.73.3). On Dionysius’s translation into Greek of this title see Mason 1970: 158. On the pontifices’ functions see Beard, North, Price 1998: 19-26; Rüpke 2012: 85-106; Valgaeren 2012: 107-18; cf. Ogilvie 1965: 100-1; Liou-Gille 1998: 180-3. 201 Capdeville (1993: 159-65) suggests that Dionysius’s source for his account of priesthoods may have been Varro.

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The fetiales were in charge of the correct observance of foreign relations, of war declarations, and of stipulations of peace treaties. In Greek they are called εἰρηνοδίκαι (“judges of peace”, RA 2.72.1; cf. Plut. Num. 12.3-7). According to Dionysius, Numa instituted this college when the Romans were about to make war upon the Fidenates, to see if they could come to an accommodation without fighting—as in fact they did (2.72.3). Cicero names as their creator Tullus Hostilius (Rep. 2.31), whereas Livy ascribes their establishment to Tullus Hostilius or Ancus Marcius (1.24.4-9, 1.32.5-14; cf. Serv. Aen. 10.14).202 Essentially, the task of the fetiales was to seek a diplomatic solution in international conflicts and, only if the other party refused to comply with the Roman requests, did they make a war declaration according to a fixed religious rite, also ensuring that no faults were committed during the whole procedure.203 The establishment of the fetial college appears to hold a special significance in Dionysius’s account of the early Roman institutions, being linked to the Romans’ piety as well as the gods’ support of Roman conquest, and ultimately marking out the Roman victories as manifestations of divine will—as can be inferred from the introductory statement with which Dionysius addresses his readers:

Inasmuch as the college of the fetiales is not in use among the Greeks, I believe it is necessary for me to relate for how many affairs and of what greatness it has authority, so that for those who do not know the piety of the Romans that the men of that time used to practice, it will not appear surprising that all their wars had the best outcome. For it will be manifest that they rendered the beginnings and causes of all of them the most pious, and for this reason especially they had the gods propitious in these dangers.204

As considered in the preceding section, most of the wars that Romulus waged are presented by Dionysius as responses to unfair provocations (cf. 2.32.2, 2.36.3, 2.50.4, 2.53.2, 2.54.1, and 2.54.3). Also, in certain instances Romulus is said to have first sought a diplomatic solution for impending conflicts (cf. 2.33.1, 2.37.4, 2.50.4). Numa’s creation of the fetiales and definition of their duties complements this notion through the institutionalization of the Romans’ (righteous) conduct in foreign relations and especially in war. The members of the fetiales, who were chosen

202 See Watson 1993: 3-9; cf. Ogilvie 1965: 110-3, 127-30; Musti 1970: 75-77; Mora 1995: 253-7. On the ius fetialis and the fetiales’ rituals see Magdelain 1984: 195-237; Watson 1993; Beard, North, Price 1998: 26-27, 44; Liou-Gille 1998: 195-9, 275-89; Zollschan 2012: 119-44. Ogilvie (1965: 129) argues that the source of Dionysius and Plutarch for their attribution of the creation of the fetiales to Numa was an early historian (perhaps Cn. Gellius). Numa’s creation of the fetiales in the RA is consistent with his creation of all the major Roman priesthoods. 203 Cf. RA 2.72; see references above, n. 202. 204 RA 2.72.3-4: οἴομαι δ᾽ ἐπειδήπερ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐπιχώριον Ἕλλησι τὸ περὶ τοὺς εἰρηνοδίκας ἀρχεῖον ἀναγκαῖον εἶναί μοι πόσων καὶ πηλίκων ἐστὶ πραγμάτων κύριον διελθεῖν, ἵνα τοῖς ἀγνοοῦσι τὴν Ῥωμαίων εὐσέβειαν, ἣν οἱ τότε ἄνδρες ἐπετήδευον, μὴ παράδοξον εἶναι φανῇ τὸ πάντας αὐτοῖς τὸ κάλλιστον λαβεῖν τοὺς πολέμους τέλος. ἁπάντων γὰρ αὐτῶν τὰς ἀρχὰς καὶ τὰς ὑποθέσεις εὐσεβεστάτας φανήσονται ποιησάμενοι καὶ διὰ τοῦτο μάλιστα τοὺς θεοὺς ἐσχηκότες ἐν τοῖς κινδύνοις εὐμενεῖς.

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among the Roman nobility and kept their office for life, were in fact supposed to establish before the gods that the Romans were not entering an unjust conflict, that is, they were not attacking others without a valid cause. In order to do that, they primarily acted as ambassadors for the Romans and their allies, and, if a serious offence had been perpetrated, they inquired into its motives and demanded reparation for it; if their attempts obtained no satisfaction for the injured parties, then they proceeded to the declaration of war (cf. Varr. LL 5.86; Cic. Off. 1.36). Their elaborate ritual of declaration of war (which is meticulously described at RA 2.72.6- 9) seems to have become obsolete by the early second century BC.205 However, Augustus resuscitated it in 32 BC, when he declared war against (Antony and) Cleopatra (Dio 50.4.4-5). At some point, he himself became a member of this college (as stated at RG 7.3). Augustus’s use of the fetiales’ declaration of war was likely connected with his attempt to pose as the defender of traditional Roman customs against his ‘eastern’ enemy; by resorting to the fetiales’ formula, Augustus underlined the status as foreign (rather than civil) of the war he was about to wage against Antony and Cleopatra, and to present such war as just through the official sanction of religion.206 The notion that the Romans waged ‘exclusively’ wars that had been divinely endorsed, while being suggestive of contemporary (Augustan) ideas, undoubtedly constituted an attractive feature for Dionysius by supporting his description of the Romans as a just and pious people—not only in the management of their internal affairs, but also in foreign politics and war conduct. In closing the narrative on Numa’s religious regulations, Dionysius comments that “through them it turned out that the city became more pious” (ἐξ ὧν εὐσεβεστέραν συνέβη γενέσθαι τὴν πόλιν, 2.73.4). Just as the religious measures of Numa are said to have enhanced the Romans’ piety, so Numa’s civic measures—to which Dionysius devotes the last part of his story of Numa’s reign—are presented by Dionysius as being intended to inspire moderation and justice and to preserve concord: “The enactments leading the life of each citizen to frugality and moderation and to yearn for justice, which preserves the city in harmony, were very many” (τὰ δ᾽ εἰς εὐτέλειάν τε καὶ σωφροσύνην ἄγοντα τὸν ἑκάστου βίον καὶ εἰς ἐπιθυμίαν καταστήσαντα τῆς φυλαττούσης ἐν ὁμονοίᾳ τὴν πόλιν δικαιοσύνης πλεῖστα ὅσα, 2.74.1). This concept is insistently

205 As emerges most clearly from a passage of Polybius, stating that the Romans used to make open war declarations by giving notice of their intentions and the place where they would array their army; but at his time only traces of that practice remained (Polyb. 13.3.7). Cf. Zollschan 2012: 119-44, who argues against the view that the fetiales died out by the second century BC and were revived by Augustus, suggesting that the college remained active throughout the Republic. 206 On this hypothesis, cf. Watson 1993: 59-60; Cooley 2009: 137-8.

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repeated in this last section, conceivably to emphasize the perpetuation of Romulus’s policies under Numa as well as the constant pursuit of virtues encouraged by the early Roman government. At RA 2.75.1, for instance, Dionysius observes that “Numa through such laws brought the city to frugality and moderation” (ὁ δὲ Νόμας εἰς μὲν εὐτέλειαν καὶ σωφροσύνην διὰ τοιούτων συνέστειλε νόμων τὴν πόλιν). He expresses a similar thought at 2.75.4: “Such [laws] that were invented by Numa, inciting to moderation and urging even more to justice, caused the city of the Romans to be better ordered than the best managed household” (τοιαῦτα μὲν δὴ σωφροσύνης τε παρακλητικὰ καὶ δικαιοσύνης ἀναγκαστήρια ὑπὸ τοῦ Νόμα τότε ἐξευρεθέντα κοσμιωτέραν οἰκίας τῆς κράτιστα οἰκουμένης τὴν Ῥωμαίων πόλιν ἀπειργάσατο). And again: “[pondering] that a city which was going to be fond of justice and rest upon a moderate lifestyle ought to abound in necessary means, etc.” ([ἐνθυμούμενος] ὅτι πόλιν τὴν μέλλουσαν ἀγαπήσειν τὰ δίκαια καὶ μενεῖν ἐν τῷ σώφρονι βίῳ τῆς ἀναγκαίου δεῖ χορηγίας εὐπορεῖν, 2.76.1).207 The numerous remarks on the Romans’ moral achievements and on the state of generalized concord under Numa thus stress how the second king brought to perfection the policy of ‘moralization’ of Roman customs and civic duties, which Romulus initiated to nurture good citizens and build an ideal society. In spite of praising at length the effects of Numa’s civil initiatives, Dionysius does not dwell on them, but selects for his account “the two which have received the greatest commemoration” (δύο τὰ μεγίστης μνήμης τυχόντα, 2.74.1): one, as we are told, concerned the drawing of boundaries around pieces of property, and the other concerned the establishment of the cult of Faith as a security in the stipulation of contracts. The first norm, according to Dionysius, aimed at preventing the citizens from coveting other people’s belongings (and thereby at fostering their σωφροσύνη); it was sanctioned through the consecration of the boundary stones to Jupiter Terminalis and the institution of a yearly festival, the Terminalia (2.74.2-4; Plut. Num. 16.1-2).208 The second measure regarded the establishment of a cult for Fides Publica (Πίστις δημοσία), who received a temple and sacrifices in her honour (RA 2.75).209 Dionysius relates that Numa decided to make faith the object of public worship as a goddess in order to reduce the

207 Many of Numa’s laws were believed to have constituted a written corpus (cf. Cic. Rep. 2.26; Liv. 1.20.5; Plut. Num. 22.2). The Roman tradition preserved a body of laws, the so-called ius Papirianum, which were ascribed to the royal period. The great majority of these laws had been allegedly redacted under Numa, and later transcribed and published by the pontifices under Ancus Marcius (RA 3.36.4; Liv. 1.32.2; see Gabba 1960: 200-7, 1967: 161-3; Musti 1970: 80-81; Momigliano 1989: 107-8; and Liou-Gille 1998: 125-40). 208 On Terminus’s cult and the Terminalia, cf. Varr. LL 6.13, Ov. Fast. 2.639-84; Fest. 505 L; Serv. Aen. 9.446; see Magdelain 1962-63: 201-27; Ogilvie 1965: 210-1; Mora 1995: 269-71. 209 Cf. Liv. 1.21.1-4; Plut. Num. 16. On Livy’s account, cf. Ogilvie 1965: 103-4; Liou-Gille 1998: 185-92.

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instances of violation of contracts when they were stipulated without witnesses. He presents the establishment of her cult not merely as an act of piety on Numa’s part (cf. 2.75.2), but chiefly as an unprecedented device intended to increase respect for the law: “he drew [the citizens] to justice concerning contracts by discovering a course of action unknown by all the others who had established celebrated constitutions” (εἰς δὲ τὴν περὶ τὰ συμβόλαια δικαιοσύνην ὑπηγάγετο πρᾶγμα ἐξευρὼν ἠγνοημένον ὑπὸ πάντων τῶν καταστησαμένων τὰς ἐλλογίμους πολιτείας, 2.75.1). The use of the verb ὑπάγομαι here is worth noting, since its meaning can imply subjugation and deceit,210 as well as the absolutely novel character of Numa’s measure. Fides was a quintessential Roman value—often paired with pietas, iustitia, and other virtues—211 which was held to preside both private and public, domestic and interstate relations.212 While not diminishing the ethical significance of faith in Roman society (as evident from its praise at 2.75.3), Dionysius emphasizes the pragmatic motivation behind the institution of this cult and implicitly suggests that Numa acted out of political shrewdness rather than religious fervor, thus corroborating the idea— previously explored—that religion could also serve as a governmental tool.213 In his final assessment of Numa’s rule, Dionysius underlines the overall beneficial effects of Numa’s institutions, which guaranteed a long-lasting peace both internally and with Rome’s neighbours, as well as Numa’s personal happiness in life, which is defined in terms of descent, an education oriented to philosophy (as opposed to sophistry), and the pursuit of virtues. Because of its peculiar features (discussed below), Numa’s epitaph deserves to be quoted in full:

By these [measures] it came about that Numa was cherished by his subjects, emulated by his neighbours, and remembered by posterity; through these neither internal strife weakened the civil concord, nor foreign war disturbed the city as a result of these most excellent and admirable customs. (...) Therefore I would not be ashamed to count this man among the foremost of those celebrated on account of their happiness. For he was born of royal stock, had the advantage of a royal aspect and pursued not the useless education about words, but the one from which he learned to live piously and practice the other virtues. (...) He lived to the longest age in perfect health not afflicted at all by fortune and he died the easiest of deaths after having been weakened by old age. (...) The city displayed a great sorrow at his death and made the most splendid funeral rites.214

210 Cf. LSJ s.v. ὑπάγω. 211 Cf., e.g., Cic. Leg. 2.28; Verg. Aen. 1.291-3; Hor. Carm. 1.24.6-8. 212 On the notion of fides see, in particular, Gruen 1982: 50-68; Freyburger 1986, esp. 103-225 (see pp. 126-8 on fides publica), and 249-80 on the institution of the cult and temple of Fides; Ramage 1987: 46, 86-91. 213 Cf. the previous considerations on the consecration of the asylum, the religious measures enacted by Romulus, and the alleged relationship of Numa with Egeria (chap. 4.2.2 c and 4.3.1). 214 RA 2.76.3-6: τῷ δὲ Νόμᾳ περιῆν ἐκ τούτων φιλεῖσθαι μὲν ὑπὸ τῶν ἀρχομένων, ζηλοῦσθαι δ᾽ ὑπὸ τῶν περιοίκων, μνημονεύεσθαι δ᾽ ὑπὸ τῶν ἐπιγινομένων· δι᾽ ὧν οὔτε στάσις ἐμφύλιος τὴν πολιτικὴν ἔλυσεν ὁμόνοιαν, οὔτε πόλεμος ἀλλοεθνὴς ἐκ τῶν κρατίστων καὶ θαυμασιωτάτων τὴν πόλιν ἐπιτηδευμάτων ἐκίνησε. (...) τοῦτον οὖν οὐκ ἂν αἰσχυνθείην ἐγὼ τὸν ἄνδρα τῶν ἐπ᾽ εὐδαιμονίᾳ διαβοηθέντων ἐν τοῖς πρώτοις καταριθμεῖν. γένους τε γὰρ ἔφυ βασιλείου καὶ μορφῆς ἀπέλαυσε βασιλικῆς παιδείαν τε οὐ τὴν περὶ λόγους ἄχρηστον ἤσκησεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐξ ἧς εὐσεβεῖν ἔμαθε καὶ τὰς ἄλλας ἐπιτηδεύειν ἀρετάς. (...) ἡλικίας δ᾽ ἐπὶ μήκιστον ἤλασεν ὁλόκληρος οὐδὲν ὑπὸ τῆς τύχης

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Dionysius’s remark on the durable peace attained by the Romans under Numa is reminiscent of Augustan descriptions of the second king, such as the descriptions of Virgil and Horace considered in the introductory section (cf. Verg. Aen. 6.808-12; Hor. Carm. 1.12.33-34; see chap. 4.1.2 above) and Livy’s concluding statement on Numa’s reign, “yet his greatest work of all was the safeguard, throughout the whole time of his rule, not less of peace than his rule” (omnium tamen maximum eius operum fuit tutela per omne regni tempus haud minor pacis quam regni, 1.21.5). Such descriptions were conceivably influenced by the state of renewed peace established—and heavily promoted—in the early years of Augustus’s rule. Dionysius appears to combine this aspect with traditional Greek ideas about virtue and human happiness. In particular, his appraisal of the condition of ὁμόνοια and the excellence of customs achieved under Numa as well as the remark on Numa’s philosophical education recall the previously advanced considerations about the ‘Isocratean filter’ that Dionysius applies to his presentation of early Roman society (cf. chap. 4.2.1, above, and 2.1.2); in addition, the eulogy of Numa’s life, death, and posterity has a distinctive Herodotean flavour, recalling the well-known logos of Solon and the Lydian king Croesus (Hdt. 1.29-33). In the Herodotean episode, Croesus asks Solon, the Athenian legislator who was visiting his palace, his opinion about the identity of the happiest man on earth. Solon replies that the happiest man was the Athenian Tellus on account of his moderately well-off lifestyle in a prosperous city, a posterity that survived him, and his death in battle serving the country, which gained him public funerals and honours. In second place, Solon names the siblings Cleobis and Biton; while they passed away at a young age, they died after performing a splendid and pious deed in dragging the processional wagon of their mother to the festival of Hera and being greatly revered by their fellow-countrymen. The key message of Solon’s speech is that happiness can be judged only at the end of one’s life; also, the successful outcome of one’s life depends on being content with moderate means and, as evident in the case of Tellus, benefitting one’s country.215 In his epitaph, Dionysius appears to apply the Solonian criteria in placing Numa’s life among the most blessed: Numa died at an old age without suffering; he left behind offspring, who in turn had a lasting posterity (four sons and one daughter; cf. RA 2.76.5, discussed at chap. 4.1.2,

κακωθεὶς καὶ θανάτων τὸν ῥᾷστον ἐτελεύτησεν ὑπὸ γήρως μαρανθείς. (...) τελευτήσαντι δ᾽ αὐτῷ πένθος μέγα προὔθετο ἡ πόλις καὶ ταφὰς ἐποιήσατο λαμπροτάτας. 215 On Herodotus’s text see, e.g., Chiasson 1986: 249-262; Shapiro 1996: 348-64; Fisher 2002: 201-8; Hollman 2015: 85-109; Tell 2015: 8-23.

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above), and was highly revered by his country even after his death. Dionysius’s picture of Numa’s blessed life is completed by Numa’s use of justice, moderation, and piety as guidelines for his action, as Dionysius implies throughout his account. By colouring the conclusion with reminders to Greek old wisdom and popular literature, Dionysius was not only drawing on his Greek cultural background: he was addressing a chiefly Greek audience, to whom Numa could appear as a familiar (and even cherished) figure, and was painting Numa as a Greek character himself—mostly in terms of morals, but perhaps, considering the Spartan origin of the Sabines (cf. chap. 4.2.3 with n. 167), also with a veiled allusion to Numa’s ethnicity.

4.4 Conclusions

From the reading of Dionysius’s account about the first two Roman kings there emerge some recognizable patterns. Dionysius is primarily concerned about demonstrating that i) Rome’s early inhabitants were not only of Greek origins (this purpose being mostly attained in his first book) but were also a morally upright people with a superior political wisdom and military skill, and ii) the Romans’ superiority was providential, inasmuch as the gods favoured a just and well-governed people. In Dionysius’s presentation, Rome appears as an excellently governed city from its very foundation; such a government is constructed on defined values that did not diminish or change over time. Romulus establishes the first constitution of the city—which evolved but was never altered substantially—and grounds it on piety, justice, and moderation, deeming these values, together with martial prowess, the real assets of a state. In his piety, Romulus recognizes that the correct relation with the gods ought to be at the basis of every act of government and sets this precept as a legacy for his successors, himself defining the main aspects of Roman civic religion. Next, his civil regulations aim to inspire the pursuit of justice and moderation; and he makes justice a fundamental value in foreign relationships as well, especially in the case of hostilities, which are presented by Dionysius as never unjustly provoked by the Romans. Justice and wisdom also inspire Romulus’s conduct with fugitives and war captives, whom he welcomes in his country with a view to the growth of the workforce and the military. Romulus’s institutions and his organization of the political bodies with their respective duties are aimed at maintaining durable concord among citizens. The achievement of a stable condition of civil harmony is described by Dionysius as the

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most valuable success for the Romans and is frequently contrasted in the narrative with the perpetual condition of strife that long dominated over the Greek cities and caused their decline. Numa’s government, in turn, is depicted as the fruitful continuation of Romulus’s policies. While Numa does not wage any war during his rule, he persists in encouraging the citizens to the practice of the same ideals laid by Romulus as foundations of the state: piety, justice, and moderation. Military discipline is substituted by Numa with religious devotion, over which he detains a strict control through the institution of a complex hierarchy of priesthoods, and with husbandry. Overall, Numa’s figure in the Roman Antiquities seems consistent with other traditional depictions of the king; however, it does not create a neat contrast with Romulus’s figure, such as, for instance, it does in Livy’s or—before him—Cicero’s accounts. Their characters and actions are instead harmonized by Dionysius, so as to show a constant and linear progression in the early stages of Rome’s history according to unchanged guidelines and moral principles. Romulus is notably given more prominence not only of Numa, but of all the following kings. His figure embodies the model of the archetypal law-giver and suggests that Rome reached a state of quasi perfection (both political and ethical) the moment it was founded. This representation, of course, diminishes the subsequent role of Numa in establishing important institutions and contributing significantly (as it does in Livy) to Rome’s growth.216 Besides the manifest Greek inspiration behind Dionysius’s political conceptions—and in particular his frequent reminders to Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato, Isocrates, Aristotle, and Polybius—it seems safe to affirm that Dionysius shows a certain degree of assimilation of current ideas about Rome’s first two kings, although he generally elaborates them in idiosyncratic ways so as to confer specific features to the characters of his narrative. Augustus embodied in his public persona the figures of Romulus and Numa, since he re-founded the state, defeated all its enemies, reformed its civil and religious institutions, and established a lasting peace for the empire. His two ancestors continued to be associated with Augustus throughout the Principate, not overtly as contrasting aspects of his personality and action, but as their harmonious components. Through the account of Romulus’s constitution and Numa’s laws Dionysius describes Rome as an idealized Greek city, grounded on Greek civic values and able to overcome the problematic aspects (such as the concession of citizenship) that had troubled and hindered the durable hegemony of other Greek cities. Both Romulus and Numa are characterized as (Greek)

216 I thank Adam Kemezis for this observation.

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lawgivers, whose chief concern remains the achievement of civil concord by fostering the citizens’ virtues. Dionysius also accentuates the idea that the Roman monarchical constitution was a deliberate choice of the Roman people, who in their political wisdom resolve to unanimously comply with the ancestral customs. The form of government that Romulus establishes draws widely on Greek precedents but reaches an almost flawless form of mixed constitution that surpasses all the previous Greek governments (such as that established by Lycurgus at Sparta) and is paralleled, perhaps, only by Aristotle’s πολιτεία. The image of early Rome as an idealized society is reinforced by the idyllic civic relations enabled by Romulus’s and subsequently Numa’s measures, such as the clientela but also the bonds of fides tied among citizens. Ambivalent aspects of Romulus’s personality and deeds are reverted and turned by Dionysius into further evidence of Romulus’s formidable qualities. Lastly, rather than simply emphasizing the religious fervour of the first two rulers, Dionysius underlines their ability in using religious practices for political purposes, although this feature does not appear as a cynical means of controlling the unruly masses but is ultimately aimed at nurturing virtuous and obedient citizens.

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Fig. 1 — a) Aureus of Octavian, 43 BC. Bearded head of Octavian. Legend: C·CAESAR·COS·PON·AVG. Rev.: laureate head of C. Julius Caesar. Legend: C·CAESAR·DICT·PERP·PONT·MAX (RRC 490/2). b) Aureus of Octavian, 43 BC. Bearded head of Octavian. Legend: C·CAESAR·IMP·III·VIR·R·P·C·PONT·AV. Rev.: bearded head of Antony. Legend: M·ANTONIVS·IMP·III·VIR·R·P·C·AVG (RRC 493/1b).

Fig. 2 — As of Augustus, 23 BC. Laureate head of Octavian. Legend: CAESAR DIVI F AVGVST. Rev.: bearded, diademed head of Numa. Legend: CN PISO L SVRDIN C PLOT RVF (RIC 1 390).

All the present images have been ordered from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service.

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CHAPTER 5 L. Junius Brutus and M. Furius Camillus: Rome’s ‘Second Founders’

In this chapter, I examine Dionysius’s description of two key personalities of the Early Republic: L. Junius Brutus, who was thought to have expelled the last Roman king and have established the Republican constitution, and M. Furius Camillus, who was not only a general of unparalleled valour, but was also credited with the liberation of Rome from the invasion of the Gauls. In the Panegyric of Trajan, Pliny the Younger names Brutus and Camillus together among the greatest Republican exempla with whom the emperor ought to be compared, “for they drove off from [our] walls the kings and the conquering enemy” (illi enim reges hostemque victorem moenibus depulerunt, Paneg. 55.6-7).1 Their figures indeed can be associated on account of their respective fights against major ‘external’ threats, which endangered the very existence of the Roman state. While the qualification of the Gauls as foreign could hardly be disputed, the same notion may appear disputable about the last king of Rome, L. Tarquinius Superbus (or Tarquin the Proud). Tarquin’s origin and deeds, however, ought to be regarded as a sufficient motive to justify his definition as a non-Roman figure. First, he was traditionally descended from Etruscan and Greek blood. Also, he was a tyrannical character in the Roman imagination, who, together with his wife and offspring, was believed to have instituted an autocratic regime to the detriment of the Roman people. According to the literary sources, after his banishment from Rome Tarquin sought refuge with and the alliance of, first, Lars Porsenna, the king of Clusium, and subsequently Aristodemus Malachus, the tyrant of Cumae, in the attempt to recover his sovereignty. In this way, he dragged Rome into a series of thorny conflicts against other Italian powers.2 Besides fighting against Rome’s enemies, both Brutus and Camillus devoted their lives to serving their country and set Rome’s freedom above everything—Brutus above family relations and Camillus above pride and resentment. Their common role as ‘liberators’ of the state, then, as well as their exemplarity as models of pietas and justice (chiefly manifest in their putting the public interest above their personal ones) justify their shared treatment in this chapter.

1 Cf. Gowing 2005: 124-5. On the association of Brutus and Camillus, see also La Penna 2003: 237 (with specific reference to Verg. Aen. 6). 2 Cf. Alföldi 1965: 47-84; Cornell 1989: 257-64; Zevi 1995: 291-314.

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In the case of Brutus, Dionysius stresses his crucial involvement in implementing the Roman constitution and in promoting concord among citizens, together with his outstanding qualities as a statesman. As I argue, similar considerations may be advanced about Camillus’s presentation, even though the examination of his figure is drastically limited by the highly fragmentary state of the second decade of Dionysius’s history. As seen in the previous chapters, these features—civil harmony, an excellent constitution, and the promotion of civic virtues—are central to Dionysius’s description of early Roman society, especially of the Roman government as the best one ever established and of the members of the Roman ruling class as models of virtues. Considering the rich treatment of Brutus’s deeds in the Roman Antiquities and, on the other hand, the numerous lacunas in Camillus’s story, I will limit my analysis to certain episodes, which may give an adequate idea of Dionysius’s adaptation of both traditional material and contemporary concepts and which show at the same time how Dionysius tailored such information for a mostly Greek audience and to specific historiographical ends. Specifically, I will consider the account of Brutus’s background (5.1.1), his speech to the patricians regarding the institution of the Republican government (5.1.2), and the condemnation of his sons following a conspiracy for treason (5.1.3). I will conclude this section with an overview of the politicization of his figure at the time of Caesar’s assassination and Augustus’s rise to power (5.1.4). The account of Brutus’s background and the portents that occurred before his actual uprising—while enriching the story with entertaining details—cannot be dismissed as an embellishment or slavish repetition of antiquarian sources. In fact, it highlights both important traits of Brutus’s personality (such as his ability as political leader) and the ‘fated’ character of his action. Through the other two episodes, Dionysius attempts to demonstrate, respectively, Brutus’s sense of justice in expelling the king and modifying the constitution, and his profound devotion to the Roman state in the condemnation of his own sons. The last section shows how Dionysius drew on a contemporary theme (namely, the lineage of M. Junius Brutus) to subtly enhance his portrait of the elder Brutus. As for Camillus, I will consider the appropriation of his figure in late Republican and Augustan politics (5.2.1) and discuss the sections of the Roman Antiquities concerning Camillus’s decisive participation in the war against Veii (5.2.2), and the circumstances of his exile and his return to Rome after the Gallic sack (5.2.3). In the last subsection, I will also make some hypotheses about well-known details of the Camillus legend that Dionysius may have intentionally omitted, such as Camillus’s opulent triumphal procession and the affair of the mismanaged booty

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from Veii—episodes that both concern the causes of popular discontent towards Camillus. Although the poor preservation of Dionysius’s account on this figure will mostly allow for only speculative suggestions, the extant text may still indicate specific preoccupations on Dionysius’s part, such as underscoring Camillus’s sense of justice and pietas and his privileged relationship with the gods on the one hand, and removing ambivalent elements from his characterization, on the other hand.

5.1 L. Junius Brutus

5.1.1 Introducing a New Character: Brutus’s Background

According to the literary tradition, the episode that triggered the fall of the monarchy and the election of Brutus to the first consular pair was the violation of the Roman matron Lucretia by Sextus Tarquinius, the eldest son of Tarquin the Proud. The story is well-known. In its basic outline, it relates that while the Roman army was engaged in the siege of Ardea, Sextus Tarquinius frequently entertained himself in the neighbouring city of Collatia at the house of his kinsman, L. Tarquinius Collatinus. There, Sextus tried to seduce Collatinus’s wife, Lucretia, being aroused by her beauty and modesty;3 but when she resisted, he threatened to kill her and stain her memory by staging her adultery with a slave. Lucretia, fearing to die with a disgraceful reputation, yielded to Sextus’s lust and eventually took her own life. Before committing suicide, Lucretia disclosed the incident to her husband and her father, Sp. Lucretius Tricipitinus, and made them swear to avenge Sextus’s crime. Brutus, who was a kinsman of Collatinus, took the lead and caused the people, first in Collatia and then in Rome, to revolt against the Tarquins, who were finally shut out of the city. Upon the abolition of the kingship, Brutus and Collatinus were elected annual magistrates.4

3 Livy speaks of a ‘contest of virtue’ among the wives of Sextus’s associates. During a dinner party, all the men present praise in turn the qualities of their respective wives; Collatinus, deeming Lucretia the most praiseworthy, invites the others to personally observe and test her. As the men arrive at Collatinus’s house late at night, they find Lucretia diligently intent on her wool work with her maidens, and accordingly they acknowledge her superiority (1.57.6-10; cf. Ogilvie 1965: 221-3). On Lucretia’s violation and death, see also Mastrocinque 1988: 17-19; Bauman 1993: 550-66, who analyzes the legal aspects of Lucretia’s suicide, especially in Livy’s account; on the exemplarity of Lucretia’s action, cf. Chaplin 2000: 1-2, 168-9 (in Livy), and Mallan 2014: 758-71 (in Dio-Zonaras). 4 On the events from Lucretia’s rape to Tarquin’s exile, cf. Diod. 10.20-22; Liv. 1.57-60; RA 4.64-85; Ov. Fast. 2.685-852; Plut. Publ. 1.3-4; Dio 2.13-19; Serv. Aen. 6.818, 8.646.

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Up to the events immediately following Lucretia’s suicide, Dionysius’s version does not differ substantially from the majority of the other sources, but two apparently minor elements are worth noting in it. First, Dionysius sets Lucretia’s death in Rome (not in Collatia) and inserts into the narrative a two-chapter digression on Brutus’s background (RA 4.68-69). As I suggest, these divergences may not depend on the use of different sources from those, for instance, of Livy— whose account is the most complete after Dionysius’s—but they appear to have specific narrative purposes in connection with the prominent role that Dionysius assigns to the figure of Brutus throughout. In particular, by setting the scene of Lucretia’s death in Rome, Dionysius manages to transform the oath sworn on her body into an actual senate meeting led by Brutus (as I will discuss at section 5.1.2).5 Secondly, the digression on Brutus’s origin and upbringing (discussed in the following paragraph) possibly had the function of signalling to the reader the pivotal role that this character played in the subsequent narrative and to provide background information to an audience who may not have been acquainted with Brutus’s story. The description of Brutus’s background begins with an observation that accentuates the unfamiliarity of Dionysius’s readers with it, for he provides, first, the Greek translation of Brutus’s cognomen—that is, ἠλίθιος or “foolish” (4.67.4)—followed by a long explanation about its origin. The story of this cognomen had a certain importance in the legend, as it was thought to derive from the trick, devised by Brutus himself, which saved his life and later allowed him to act against the Tarquins. In this regard, Dionysius relates that, when Tarquin the Proud usurped Servius Tullius’s throne, he put to death several members of his own family, including Brutus’s father and elder brothers, in order to seize their fortunes without incurring the risk of being later avenged by their descendants. Brutus, who was still very young at the time, prudently began to feign stupidity, hence his surname. In this way, appearing harmless, he managed to have his life spared (RA 4.68, and 4.77.1-2; cf. Diod. 10.22; Liv. 1. 56.7–8; Ov. Fast. 2.717-8; Val. Max. 7.3.2; Plut. Publ. 3.4; Zon. 7.11).6 Next, Dionysius illustrates Brutus’s ancestry: his father Marcus is said to be a descendant of one of the settlers that came with Aeneas from Troy, whereas his mother Tarquinia was supposedly a daughter of King Tarquinius Priscus. Although it is not explicitly stated, it would not escape the attentive reader that, according to Dionysius’s version, Brutus had a Greek lineage

5 Cf. Liv. 1.59.3, who relates that Lucretia’s body is exposed in the forum of Collatia, attracting a crowd of people. 6 On the origin of the cognomen Brutus, see Wiseman 2003: 32-33 = 2008: 301-2; cf. Alföldi 1965: 82-83.

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on both sides,7 since the Trojans are viewed by Dionysius as originally Greek (cf. RA 1.61-62), and Tarquinius Priscus (or Lucumo) was thought to be the son of Demaratus of Corinth (cf. RA 3.46.3-48.4).8 Thirdly, Dionysius reports, within the digression, the events that occurred during Brutus’s youth while he was occupied on an embassy to the sanctuary of Delphi. Brutus, we are told, hid a golden rod in a wooden staff and offered it as a gift to Apollo, and soon after that, an oracular response, which Brutus alone was able to interpret correctly, marked him out as successor of Tarquin (4.69.2-4; cf. Liv. 1.56.9-12; Val. Max. 7.3.2; Zon. 7.11).9 While Dionysius’s account of these events does not deviate from the version of most sources, their insertion in this portion of the text (as opposed to the one preceding Lucretia’s violation and suicide; cf. Liv. 1.56.9-12) was likely intended to strengthen the presentation of Brutus as a leading character in the story and to place him in line with other significant figures of Rome’s early history—figures, such as Aeneas, Romulus, and Numa, who, like Brutus, were distinguished not only by their political wisdom but also by the fated nature of their role and action. It is worth noting that while Dionysius stresses the prominence of the figure of Brutus through this unusual introduction, he omits the report of the prodigies associated with his expulsion of the king. As scholars have noted, several accounts on the subject include prodigies that anticipate this event and generally involve Brutus as the main person responsible. For instance, in the play Brutus by the second-century BC poet L. Accius (quoted in Cic. Div. 1.44-45),10 Tarquin dreams of a herd from which he chooses two rams for sacrifice. After sacrificing the more beautiful of the two, Tarquin is attacked by the other and falls headlong to the ground. While lying on the ground, he sees the sun reversing its course. The soothsayer, then, advises Tarquin to beware of

7 Even though, as in particular Irene Peirano has noted, the stress on shared ancestry is crucial in the first book but is increasingly substituted in the following narrative by the idea that the Romans’ Greekness ought to be measured on their culture and moral qualities (Peirano 2010: 42-43). 8 Elsewhere Dionysius deals with the chronological discrepancy of the literary tradition, which made Tarquin the Proud a son of Tarquinius Priscus. Dionysius objects that, if that were the case, by the time he became king Tarquin would have been already over seventy years old (RA 4.6-7). Dionysius then argues that he was a grandson rather than a son of Tarquinius Priscus, possibly being born of one of his daughters. However, Mora (1995: 298-303) points out a problem with Dionysius’s attempt at harmonizing this chronology, observing that, if Tarquinius Priscus had two daughters who were both married (as Dionysius states at 4.7.4), one being the wife of Servius Tullius and the other one the mother of Tarquin, then the identification of Brutus’s mother as one of Tarquinius Priscus’s daughters becomes impossible. On Dionysius’s discussion about the duration of the last three kings’ reigns at RA 4.6-7 and 4.30.2-7; cf. Cornell 2015: 251. 9 On this episode, see Liou-Gille 1998: 411-9. 10 As a praetor, M. Brutus attempted to stage this play in the aftermath of Caesar’s murder at the ludi Apollinares, though in exile. The play was a fabula praetexta, that is, a Roman historical drama. Accius seemingly composed it for his patron, D. Junius Brutus Callaicus, in 136 BC (see Erasmo 2001: 101-14; Cataudella 2007: 37-49).

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someone he deemed a stupid ram (that is, Brutus), while the sun altering its course signals some very significant change. Livy, in turn, relates that a snake glided out of a wooden column, creating panic in the palace and prompting Tarquin to seek Apollo’s oracular response about the meaning of this portent; the snake is said to represent Brutus (1.56.4-6; cf. Zon. 7.11).11 Dionysius, as well, tells of a divine warning received by the king: two eagles make their nest on the top of a palm tree in the palace’s garden, but a flock of vultures kill their young and, attacking the two eagles, drive them away (4.63.1-2; cf. Zon. 7.11). Wiseman has argued that Dionysius’s account of this prodigy depends on an older tradition about the fall of the monarchy in which Brutus did not yet figure; this source, moreover, may have been non-Roman, as it gives an uncomplimentary metaphor of the Roman people as scavenger birds.12 But Dionysius’s choice of relating this particular prodigy (instead of other ones referring to Brutus) may have been deliberate and intended to remove possible violent connotations from Brutus’s expulsion of the king. As I will show in the next section, Dionysius appears mostly concerned with portraying Brutus as a just lawgiver and a promoter of civil concord, not as a revolutionary. After the digression on Brutus’s background, the narrative resumes with the abrupt revelation of Brutus’s real nature. To this end, Dionysius depicts a rather dramatic scene: upon hearing about Sextus Tarquinius’s outrage and Lucretia’s death, Brutus is said to have lifted his hands to the sky and uttered this grand invocation: “O Jupiter and all you gods who look upon human life, has that moment come now at last, waiting for which I continually maintained this pretence in the manner of my life? Was it fated that the Romans should be delivered from the unendurable tyranny by me and through me?”13 Brutus’s words, and especially the double reference to his own agency (ὑπ᾽ ἐμοῦ καὶ δι᾽ ἐμὲ), underscore his acknowledgment of the role assigned to him by fate (which is alluded to in the above-mentioned account of the Delphic oracle) and, at the same time, they provide an indication of the subsequent development of the story, to which this theatrical gesture adds a sense of inevitability. However, while the reader may expect

11 Pliny adds that the snake was barking (NH 8.153); and Zonaras states that the oracular response prophesized that only a talking dog would have ended the monarchy (7.11). These allusions referred to Brutus and his feigned stupidity, which made him close to an animal or unable to speak. For an analysis and interpretation of these prodigies see, in particular, Ogilvie 1965: 216-8; Mastrocinque 1988: 13-15; Wiseman 2003: 23-30 = 2008: 294-9. 12 See Wiseman 2003: 24-25 = 2008: 295-6. 13 RA 4.70.1: ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ θεοὶ πάντες, ὅσοι τὸν ἀνθρώπινον ἐπισκοπεῖτε βίον, ἆρά γ᾽ ὁ καιρὸς ἐκεῖνος ἥκει νῦν, ὃν ἐγὼ περιμένων ταύτην τοῦ βίου τὴν προσποίησιν ἐφύλαττον; ἆρα πέπρωται Ῥωμαίοις ὑπ᾽ ἐμοῦ καὶ δι᾽ ἐμὲ τῆς ἀφορήτου τυραννίδος ἀπαλλαγῆναι;

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the outbreak of actual turmoil after this passionate utterance, the way in which Brutus delivers the Romans from tyranny turns out to be oddly peaceful and ‘civilized’.

5.1.2 The Founder of a New Order

So far, then, Dionysius has stressed Brutus’s cunning and has hinted at his role as fated leader (an aspect which, as considered before, is emphasized in Aeneas’s case as well; cf. chap. 3.3.3 a). But the substance of Brutus’s characterization—as well as the focus of Dionysius’s narrative about the fall of the monarchy—emerges from the two consecutive speeches that Dionysius puts in his mouth before Tarquin’s expulsion, and which underscore Brutus’s preoccupation with constitutional legality and the peaceful resolution of the ongoing crisis. The first one is presented in the form of a senatorial debate and the second one as a public appeal to the popular assembly. The two speeches are essential to understanding Dionysius’s conception and presentation of the early Republican constitution. The new government is uniquely described as a continuation of the monarchical system and, following the model of the mixed constitution, is said to be grounded in concord between the civic bodies. In addition, several features of Brutus’s speeches appear directly inspired or influenced by contemporary events and ideas, which Dionysius may have either experienced himself or drawn from via a contemporary source. In this section, I will consider in detail Brutus’s speech to the patricians and, in more general terms, his appeal to the popular assembly (RA 4.76-84), as this mostly reiterates the notions expressed in the previous speech. It is worth noting that this section of Dionysius’s account is marked by a notable change of pace. If we compare the progression of the story in Livy and Dionysius, we may note that in the former the events unfold in a very rapid succession: Brutus is said to be already present at Lucretia’s tragic confession and death (Liv. 1.58.6); as she takes her own life, he draws the knife from her wound and pronounces the solemn oath that he will drive Tarquin and his race out of Rome and will not suffer anyone to reign ever again.14 He hands the knife to the others, makes

14 Liv. 1.59.1: “I swear by this most chaste blood, he said, before the offense of the royal family, and you, gods, I call as witnesses that I will punish L. Tarquinius Superbus with his wicked wife and his whole stock of children with sword, fire and whatever strength in my power henceforth, nor will I suffer them or anyone else to be king in Rome” (‘per hunc’ inquit ‘castissimum ante regiam iniuriam sanguinem iuro, uosque, di, testes facio me L. Tarquinium Superbum cum scelerata coniuge et omni liberorum stirpe ferro igni quacumque dehinc ui possim exsecuturum, nec illos nec alium quemquam regnare Romae passurum’). On Brutus’s oath cf. Ogilvie 1965: 226-7; also, Erskine 1991: 106-7, 110 on the colouring of this account after Caesar’s assassination; on Brutus’s characterization in Livy, see Robbins 1972: 1-20.

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them take the same oath, and urges them to overthrow the monarchy. There is no time to stop and deliberate: while P. Valerius (the future Publicola) and Lucretius wonder at Brutus’s transformation from his previous mental deficiency, they follow his lead without further enquiries. Brutus recruits a body of armed men, leaves some of them to defend Collatia, and marches on Rome with the rest (1.59.5-7); there he holds a public speech—which is reported in a few sentences—and incites the people to pronounce a sentence of expulsion against the Tarquins (1.59.8-11).15 By contrast, Dionysius, far from presenting a hectic sequence of events, freezes the action, and—after reporting Brutus’s utterance—begins the long account of the debate about the expulsion of the royal family and the institutional future of the city (4.71-75). It will be useful to briefly summarize the circumstances of Brutus’s speech, as they add important elements to the episode’s overall significance. As Dionysius’s story has it, when Brutus, P. Valerius, and Collatinus arrive at Lucretius’s house, Collatinus falls in tears over Lucretia’s body; but Brutus, showing great self-control and quick-thinking, advises postponing the mourning and devising a way to avenge the crime (4.70.1- 3). Before laying out his plan, Brutus clarifies the reasons for his affected stupidity—this detail being repeated later, in almost identical terms, at the beginning of Brutus’s address to the people (cf. RA 4.77). Next, Brutus ascertains that the men present are all of the same mind about dethroning the tyrant, an element that points to the necessity of concord among the members of the Roman ruling class as a prelude to the general harmony among the citizens. Then, Brutus takes the dagger from Lucretia’s body and swears a solemn oath that he will overthrow the Tarquins with every possible means (as in Livy’s account, above); that he will not tolerate anyone reconciling with them; and that for his entire life he will persecute tyranny and its supporters (4.70.5). This elaborate oath, with the addition of the ‘zero tolerance’ clause towards the supporters of the monarchy, is likely meant to foreshadow Brutus’s condemnation of his own children. As I discuss in the next section, when his sons join a conspiracy for the restoration of the monarchy, Brutus’s implacable reaction finds a proper justification precisely in this oath. After all those present have sworn, Brutus gives his speech and meticulously explains his plan to expel the Tarquins and settle the constitutional issues. His proposal will be examined point by point. First, Brutus suggests putting the gates under guard, so that Tarquin would not learn what is happening in Rome. Secondly, ‘they’ (that is, the patricians) should carry Lucretia’s body to the

15 Cf. Ogilvie 1965: 226-9; Mora 1995: 322-4.

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forum, “defiled with blood as it is” (ὡς ἔστιν αἵματι πεφυρμένον), and they should call the people to an assembly.16 Third, Brutus proposes that Collatinus and Lucretius should step forward and publicly lament their misfortune; their denunciations will be forthwith amplified by the other nobles, who in turn will speak against the tyranny and, in this way, stir up the people even further:

For all the Romans it will be the fulfillment of their prayer, if they see us, the patricians, making a beginning of liberty. For they have suffered many terrible evils at the hands of the tyrant and need only little encouragement. When we have the multitude eager to overthrow the monarchy, let us both give them a vote on Tarquin’s no longer ruling over the Romans and send off in all speed their decision about this matter to the encamped army.17

Through these initial suggestions, Brutus underscores the leading role of the patricians and reinforces the idea of concord between the civic bodies as a crucial condition for the political and social advancement of the state. Both ideas are explicitly stated by Dionysius later in the narrative, after the account of Tarquin’s expulsion and the formal appointment of Brutus and Collatinus as consuls. The government established at that time is, Dionysius says, an aristocracy (ἀριστοκρατίας δὲ γενομένης, 5.1.2). In the same passage, Dionysius reports that the two consuls, right after their election, hold a speech in front of the people’s assembly, during which they remark at length on the significance of civil harmony (πολλοὺς ὑπὲρ ὁμονοίας λόγους ποιησάμενοι, ibid). Patricians and plebeians are, in Brutus’s words (4.71.3, above), united in their sufferings at the hands of the tyrant, although it is evident that the political weight of the two orders is in no way equated. The patricians are assigned the task of guiding the action against Tarquin and proposing their resolutions about it. This notion is repeated in Brutus’s later speech to the people, in which he addresses the commoners as “comrades” in the achievement of liberty,18 and states that all the Romans finally have the longed-for opportunity to get rid of the tyranny “with the patricians leading the attempt” (ἡγουμένων δὲ τῆς ἐπιχειρήσεως τῶν πατρικίων, 4.82.5). The people’s intervention is described as limited to supporting the patricians, even though Brutus’s

16 The gruesome detail of Lucretia’s body is repeated later in the narrative, when the body is actually exhibited (cf. 4.76.3). As Schultze has observed, this particular recalls the account concerning the display of Caesar’s dead body on the rostra. Appian indeed refers to the effects that this sight had on the people in terms of generalized rage (BC 2.143, 147; see Schultze 2011: 87). 17 RA 4.71.3: ἔσται δὲ πᾶσι Ῥωμαίοις κατ᾽ εὐχήν, ἐὰν ἴδωσιν ἡμᾶς τοὺς πατρικίους ἄρχοντας τῆς ἐλευθερίας· πολλὰ γὰρ καὶ δεινὰ πεπόνθασιν ὑπὸ τοῦ τυράννου καὶ μικρᾶς ἀφορμῆς δέονται. ὅταν δὲ λάβωμεν τὸ πλῆθος ὡρμημένον καταλῦσαι τὴν μοναρχίαν ψῆφόν τ᾽ αὐτοῖς ἀναδῶμεν ὑπὲρ τοῦ μηκέτι Ῥωμαίων Ταρκύνιον ἄρξειν καὶ τὸ περὶ τούτων δόγμα πρὸς τοὺς ἐπὶ στρατοπέδου διαπεμψώμεθα ἐν τάχει. 18 RA 4.78.1: “We have convoked you, o plebeians, so that, having shown our own plan, we could expect you to become our comrades, achieving liberty for the country” (ὑμᾶς τ᾽, ὦ δημόται, συνεκαλέσαμεν, ἵνα τὴν προαίρεσιν ἀποδειξάμενοι τὴν ἑαυτῶν συναγωνιστὰς ἀξιώσωμεν ἡμῖν γενέσθαι, πράττοντας ἐλευθερίαν τῇ πατρίδι).

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proposal cannot be enacted arbitrarily without the people’s ratification, which is expressed through the vote of the assembly. The mechanism devised by Brutus thus roughly corresponds to the functioning of the mixed constitution, in which the oligarchic and democratic elements do not hinder one another but do need to validate each other’s actions (cf. discussion at chap. 4.2.2 a). This parallel becomes clearer as Brutus suggests, in the subsequent portion of his speech, entrusting the royal power to annual magistrates who must cooperate with the senate (see below). Reference to ἐλευθερία recurs in Brutus’s second speech, as he invites the people to choose “either a life of freedom, or a glorious death” (ἢ βίον ἐλεύθερον, ἢ θάνατον ἔνδοξον, 4.82.4). In addition, he marks out the people’s vote and the right to legislate as the very first expression of their renewed political freedom: “let this vote [lit., judgment] be the very beginning of liberty for you” (τοῦθ᾽ ὑμῖν πρῶτον ἀρξάτω τὸ δικαίωμα τῆς ἐλευθερίας, 4.84.3).19 The notion of liberty as struggle against tyranny may contain an allusion to late-Republican and early-Augustan politics, when libertas became a slogan for those who defended the traditional values of the Republic against individual ambitions;20 but it also has a distinct Greek flavour, as it can be traced to Athenian political thought of the fifth and fourth centuries, in which tyranny was especially associated with barbarian ethnicity (thus identifying essentially non-Greek nations).21 Dionysius represents the Romans as heirs to the Greeks in their fight for freedom (both individual and political, to judge from Brutus’s speech), thus enhancing their Greek character and, at the same time, the ‘barbarian’ connotation of the Etruscan tyrant Tarquin. On the other hand, his description appears in line with current debates on political freedom as well as contemporary depictions of L. Brutus as a strenuous guardian of libertas (cf., in particular, Liv. 2.1). As I discuss later, such a portrayal likely reflected the recent political struggles involving M. Junius Brutus with the manipulation of the figure of his alleged ancestor, L. Brutus (cf. section 5.1.4).

19 As also noted by Arena 2012: 55. This concept returns later in the narrative as well, when Dionysius describes the first administrative acts of Brutus and Collatinus as consuls and states, possibly in his own voice, that “the measures passed by [the consuls] pleased many, since they had come out of long slavery into unexpected liberty” (τοῖς μὲν οὖν πολλοῖς καθ᾽ ἡδονὴν τὰ γινόμενα ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν ἦν ἐκ πολυχρονίου δουλείας εἰς ἀνέλπιστον ἀφιγμένοις ἐλευθερίαν, 5.2.3). 20 On the notion of libertas in late Republican politics, see Brunt 1988: 281-350 and, more recently, Arena 2012, esp. 14-72, 169-243. As Arena argues in her study, by the forties BC the meaning of libertas shifted from the purely juridical notion as status of non-slavery (or non-subjection to the power of somebody else, e.g., the paterfamilias) and came to include political liberty, with the juridical terminology being now used metaphorically. The citizens’ libertas basically consisted in these two rights, as clarified by Brunt (1988: 297): “immunity from arbitrary coercion and punishment by magistrates, and some degree of participation in political power.” 21 Cf., e.g., Arist. Pol. 1.1252b; Hall 1989: 16, 101, 164-5, 193-4; Brunt 1988: 308-17. On liberty as a marker of Roman identity, see also the speech of Fabricius at RA 19.18.4 (commented in Peirano 2010: 45, 47).

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In spite of the plays suggested by Brutus in order to obtain a strong emotional response from the people—such as the display of Lucretia’s body stained with blood, the lamentations of her relatives, and the exhortations of the nobles—at no point of his speech does Brutus mention any intention of causing a violent reaction. On the contrary, the desired effect is said to be the people’s vote against Tarquin. The distinct aura of legitimacy that Dionysius confers on this preliminary phase of the establishment of the Republic is absent from the other extant sources. Livy, for instance, apart from mentioning that Brutus was acting in his capacity as tribunus celerum, describes the overthrow of the Tarquins as a passionate uprising. After taking the previously mentioned oath, Brutus is said to have raised volunteers and marched on Rome at their head, sowing panic as they entered the city: “When they arrived at Rome, the armed multitude, wherever it advanced, caused fright and uproar... Nor had such a terrible event provoked a lesser commotion of spirits in Rome than in Collatia; now from all the spots of the city there was a rush to the forum.”22 Likewise, Plutarch, in his Life of Publicola, reports that “the people took as the start of the revolt the incident with Lucretia, who killed herself after being violated, and L. Brutus engaging in the revolution (μεταβολή) at first came to Valerius and with the aid of his eagerness cast out the kings.”23 Not only does Dionysius avoid any reference to violence in his version, but he also emphasizes that freedom from tyranny was achieved thanks to the initiative of the few (cf. 4.71.3: “we, the patricians,” ἡμεῖς οἱ πατρίκιοι), drastically limiting the aspect of collective participation in the momentous change of government. This feature accentuates, in Dionysius’s presentation, the political wisdom and pre-eminence of the Roman ruling class—a notion that, as considered in the previous chapter, recurs frequently in his history.24 Dionysius makes Brutus’s determination to act in accordance with the law even more evident in the debate following his speech. As Brutus outlines the first points of his plan, his associate Valerius Publicola raises this objection: he observes that none of them is a magistrate

22 Liv. 1.59.6-7: ubi eo ventum est, quacumque incedit armata multitude, pavorem ac tumultum facit... nec minorem motum animorum Romae tam atrox res facit quam Collatiae fecerat; ergo ex omnibus locis urbis in forum curritur. Cf. Ogivile 1965: 227, who notes the close similarity of this scene with Plutarch’s description of the chaos that followed Caesar’s assassination (Caes. 67.1-3). Plutarch relates that, as Caesar was killed, the senators burst out of the senate and filled the people with confusion and fear, while the conspirators marched to the Capitol with Brutus at their head, summoning the people to liberty and welcoming men in their number. 23 Plut. Publ. 1.3: [ὁ δῆμος] ἀρχὴν ἀποστάσεως ἔλαβε τὸ Λουκρητίας πάθος αὑτὴν ἐπὶ τῷ βιασθῆναι διεργασαμένης, καὶ Λεύκιος Βροῦτος ἁπτόμενος τῶν πραγμάτων τῆς μεταβολῆς ἐπὶ πρῶτον ἦλθε τὸν Οὐαλλέριον καὶ χρησάμενος αὐτῷ προθυμοτάτῳ συνεξέβαλε τοὺς βασιλεῖς. 24 See discussion at chap. 4.2.2 a about Romulus’s division of patricians and plebeians. On the aristocratic character of the upheaval described by Dionysius, cf. Fascione 1993: 59-61.

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and thus legally entitled to assemble the people and call the curiae to vote. But Brutus replies that he himself is in fact a magistrate, being the commander of the celeres (RA 4.71.5-6).25 This subtle technicality—as well as Brutus’s proposal to have Tarquin’s exile ratified by vote—fits in with Dionysius’s frequent inclination to show the legitimate advancement of the Roman constitution (or his “hyperconstitutionality,” as Schultze defines it).26 This anxiety also seems to be present, though to a lesser extent, in Livy, who relates that Brutus held the office of tribunus celerum at the time (1.59.7). Cicero, on the other hand, states that Brutus was a privatus when he brought about the expulsion of the Tarquins: “[Brutus] who, while he was a private citizen, sustained the whole state, and was the first man in this nation who show that no one is a private citizen in preserving the liberty of the citizens” (qui cum privatus esset, totam rem publicam sustinuit, primusque in hac civitate docuit in conservanda civium libertate esse privatum neminem, Cic. Rep. 2.46).27 As Ogilvie argues, Cicero’s position may depend on an earlier version of the story and overall appears more consistent with the claim that Brutus feigned stupidity for most of his youth, as it would be hardly understandable otherwise how the king could entrust “a dullard” with such an important office. On the other hand, the attribution of a high office to Brutus by Livy and Dionysius may depend on a common source, which, Ogilvie suggests, could be the late annalist Valerius Antias.28 Around the same time that Dionysius was writing, Augustus as well was at pains to show the legitimacy of his political activity.29 An interesting parallel for Dionysius’s account of Brutus may be indeed supplied by a passage from the Res Gestae, in which Augustus shows his sense of justice by claiming to have exiled the murderers of his father through a legitimate trial: “Those who killed my father I drove into exile through lawful judgments avenging their crime, and afterwards as they were waging war upon the res publica I defeated them twice in battle.”30 The

25 On Brutus as tribunus celerum cf. Liv. 1.59.7; Pompon. Dig. 1 2.2.15; see Mastrocinque 1988: 113-116. 26 Schultze 2011: 87; cf. Fascione 1993: 58-59. 27 Galinsky suggests that there may be a similarity between L. Brutus and Augustus, who emphasized that he acted as a private citizen when he saved the res publica (RG 1.1). Galinsky, moreover, notes that the Roman tradition provided several precedents for Augustus, namely, examples of private citizens taking the initiative for the good of the country—such as P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica, who killed Ti. Gracchus (cf. Cic. Brut. 212), and Pompey (Galinsky 1996: 49-52; cf. Ramage 1987: 67; Cooley 2009: 106-7). 28 See discussion in Ogilvie 1965: 195-6, 228; cf. Alföldi 1965: 83. Cornell (2013: 298-304), however, while not commenting specifically on the passage in question, notes how recently scholars have been rather inclined to downplay the dependence of Livy on Antias for the composition of his first decade, emphasizing that Livy also used previous sources directly for the early portions of his history. 29 Cf. Ramage 1987: 86-89; Galinsky 1996: 85-86. 30 RG 2: qui parentem meum interfecerunt, eos in exilium expuli iudiciis legitimis ultus eorum facinus, et postea bellum inferentis rei publicae vici bis acie. The allusion contained in this passage is to the lex Pedia of 43 BC (on which, cf. Vell. 2.69.5; Suet. Aug. 10.1; App. BC 3.95; Dio 46.48). In accordance with this measure, a special

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analogy with Brutus’s story is compelling: both Augustus and Brutus manage to have their ‘tyrants’ exiled through a lawful procedure and, in both cases, their final resort to war appears as a defensive action. For Brutus, together with his colleague in the consulship Publicola, eventually wages war against Tarquin and his allies, but only after learning that these were preparing to attack Rome—an element that implicitly identifies their military initiative as bellum iustum (cf. chap. 4.2.3; RA 5.14.1; cf. Liv. 2.6). On the other hand, the Res Gestae’s opening statement, in which Augustus claims to have liberated the state, “which was oppressed by the despotism of a faction,”31 shows that the assassins of Caesar were presented as tyrants by Augustus and his supporters. While it does not necessarily follow from this parallelism that Dionysius was alluding to contemporary events in his description of Brutus, his preoccupation with legalism may have been influenced by current reactions to the atmosphere of illegality pervading the late civil wars’ period. In the subsequent part of his speech, Brutus urges his associates to define the form of government that is to succeed Tarquin’s tyranny.32 As seen in the previous chapter, Dionysius inserts two constitutional debates into his narrative about Romulus’s and Numa’s reigns: when Romulus is about to assume the kingship (2.3.7-8) and, after Romulus’s death, when the senators deliberate on whether to continue to live under a monarchy or to change the form of government (2.57.3-4; see chap. 4.2.1 and 4.3.1). In all three instances (including the present one), the debate concludes with the decision to maintain or restore the ancestral constitution. The main function of these debates was conceivably to demonstrate to the Greek readership the consistent and smooth development of the Roman constitution, which—although slightly adjusted over the course of time—kept regulating the life of the Romans in the best possible manner.33 Furthermore, through this device Dionysius is able to demonstrate that the Roman government was at every moment in

tribunal judged and condemned the conspirators to exile in their absence. While the actual author of the law was Q. Pedius (Caesar’s nephew and Augustus’s colleague in the consulship), the law is set forth here as an exclusive initiative of Augustus, who indeed expresses himself in the first person singular. On RG 2 see comments in Ramage 1987: 32-34, and Cooley 2009: 114-6. 31 RG 1.1: ...rem publicam dominatione factionis oppressam in libertatem vindicavi. As both Ramage (1987: 31) and later Cooley (2009: 108-11) note, by using the word libertas in this passage Augustus puts himself and his deed in a direct line with the Republican tradition, appropriating a common motif of the late Republican political discourse. A cistophorus of Augustus minted at Ephesus in 28 BC bears the legend LIBERTATIS P. R. VINDEX on obverse, and PAX on reverse (RIC 1 79 no. 476; see Cooley, ibid). By this claim Augustus may have intended to remove the label of “liberator(s)” from the conspirators’ public image and arrogate it for himself. 32 On Brutus’s speech cf. Dio fr. 3.12, which seems to present a parallel debate (cf. also the speech of Maecenas at Book 52, mentioned at n. 35, below). On the relation between Dionysius’s and Dio’s texts see Fromentin 2016: 179- 90 (pp. 184-5 on Brutus’s speech); on Dio’s fragments about the early years of the Republic, see Urso 2016: 143-58, here 144-6 on the establishment of the Republic and the early Republican magistrates. 33 Cf. Wiater 2011: 178-9.

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its history the product of the harmonious agreement between the various political elements, which from time to time discussed and voted on it. Therefore, even in the case of the establishment of the Republic, which is traditionally presented as an abrupt and sudden rupture from the former government, Dionysius instead highlights the continuity from the monarchy as well as the ability of the Romans to resolve their conflicts by debate rather than arms (an aspect that also emerges in the previously considered comparison between Greek and Roman institutions, chap. 4.2.2). There may also be an allusion here to the Isocratean concept expressed in the Panathenaicus and seen in the previous chapter, according to which the skills and political qualities of the leaders are more important for common welfare than the form of government in force, since any constitution will work properly when it is run by competent officers (cf., in particular, Panath. 132-3).34 In the present circumstance, Brutus invites each one of those present to express his view about what form of government should be imposed upon the city. After hearing the different opinions—with some proposing to preserve a monarchy, others to give full power to the senate, and yet others to establish a democracy—Brutus takes the floor and advises the patricians against changing the existing constitution (RA 4.72). Besides stressing the risks connected with a swift change of government, Brutus substantiates his view by noting that the constitution established by Romulus, Numa, and the other kings is already the most suitable for the Romans, since “from it our city has continued to be great and prosperous and to rule over many peoples” (ἐξ ἧς μεγάλη καὶ εὐδαίμων καὶ πολλῶν ἄρχουσα ἀνθρώπων ἡ πόλις ἡμῶν διετέλεσεν, 4.73.1). This argument echoes the deliberation made by the Roman people in the account of Romulus’s election, which also stresses Roman domination, together with freedom, as the most significant result achieved through the ancestral constitution (cf. 2.4.1, ἐλευθερίαν τε καὶ ἄλλων ἀρχήν, discussed at chap. 4.2.1). The connection between the two passages is strengthened by the mention of Romulus and Numa, who (as considered before) were held responsible, respectively, for the establishment and for the enhancement of the first Roman constitution. In addition, the frequent mentions made by Brutus of ἐλευθερία in his subsequent speech to the people (4.78.1, 4.82.4, 4.84.3, above, cf. 5.2.3, at n. 19, above) imply that the establishment of the ‘new’ constitution, just like the ancestral one, will bring about political liberty for the citizens. The two changes of government, then—the

34 It is true that in Nicocles Isocrates describes enlightened monarchy as the best type of constitution, since it has the best men at the government, who are chosen according to lineage as well as virtues (see esp. sections 17-47); cf. discussion at chap. 4.2.1, with bibliographical references.

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establishment of the monarchy and of the Republic—rather than being ruptures with the past, are ultimately presented as crucial moments in the reaffirmation of ancestral values. As in the previously examined instances, in this case, too, there is a clear influence of the debate described by Herodotus (3.80-82), in which Darius, Otanes, and Megabyzus discuss the most fitting constitution to institute in the Persian Empire after the massacre of the Magi (see discussion at chap. 4.2.1).35 However, while Dionysius’s account partly repeats the pattern already outlined for the previous constitutional debates—in which the parties involved agree in the end to preserve the ‘current’ system of government (cf. Hdt. 3.82.5; RA 2.4.1, 2.57.4)—the novelty of this passage is notable. In the Roman mentality, the Republic not only was a wholly distinct type of constitution from the monarchy, but it was also perceived as a clear-cut separation from the previous government, representing the foundation of civic liberty after the oppressive rule of the last king-tyrant. Dionysius attempts to minimize the deviation of his account from the normal Roman conception by suggesting that the Romans on Brutus’s advice do not replace the monarchy altogether but introduce into it a series of modifications to eliminate its inherent flaws and make it appear more bearable for the citizens.36 These flaws and their respective remedies are meticulously listed by Brutus, who also advances viable solutions to them (4.73.3-4.74.4). To begin with, Brutus advises them to modify the name of the government and the title of those in power, since the terms βασιλεύς and μόναρχος had become offensive to the people, and to replace them with “a title more moderate and friendlier to them” (μετριωτέραν τινὰ καὶ φιλανθρωποτέραν ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῖς προσηγορίαν, 4.73.3). Secondly, following the Spartan system of shared kingship, which made Sparta the best governed of the Greek cities, Brutus recommends entrusting the royal power to two men, in order to ensure their mutual respect and restraining influence on one another (4.73.4). The third of Brutus’s proposals concerns the reduction of royal insignia. Specifically, the use of the sceptre, golden crown, and embroidered robes—which have become “grievious sights hateful to the many” (λυπηρὰς ὄψεις καὶ ἐπιφθόνους τοῖς πολλοῖς)—

35 Another interesting echo of this kind of debate is found in the long discussion staged in Dio 52.2-40, where Agrippa and Maecenas advise Octavian about the form of government he ought to establish for the Romans after defeating Antony and how to rule as a monarch (see Kuhlmann 2010: 109-21, and comments on Dio’s text in Reinhold 1988: 165-214). 36 See RA 4.73.2: “But as for the troublesome things that usually attend monarchies, from which they convert to tyrannical savagery and because of which nobody is able to endure them, I recommend that you both amend these now and ever guard that they will not take place afterwards” (ἃ δὲ παρακολουθεῖν εἴωθε ταῖς μοναρχίαις χαλεπά, ἐξ ὧν εἰς τυραννικὴν ὠμότητα περιίστανται καὶ δι᾽ ἃ δυσχεραίνουσιν ἅπαντες αὐτάς, ταῦθ᾽ ὑμῖν ἐπανορθώσασθαί τε καὶ νῦν καὶ ἵνα μηδ᾽ ἐξ ὑστέρου γένηταί ποτε φυλάξασθαι παραινῶ).

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ought to be confined to certain festivities and triumphal precessions, whereas the consuls would normally hold the ivory chair, the white toga edged in purple, and the twelve lictors with the fasces (4.74.1).37 In order to appreciate the originality of Dionysius’s attempt at explaining the origin of the Republican constitution along these lines, it is useful to briefly consider the traditional Roman conception of monarchy, and especially the view of Dionysius’s contemporaries. It is well-known that during the Late Republic and the early Empire the Romans developed a formidable reputation for their animosity towards kings (taedium regum, Liv. 1.46.3), which the Roman authors writing from the mid-first century BC dated back to the despotism of Rome’s last king, Tarquin the Proud. Cicero, for instance, followed by other sources,38 explains the hatred for the nomen regium in these terms:

After Tarquin was expelled, the hatred of the royal title that seized the Roman people was as great as the longing for Romulus that had seized them after his death, or rather departure. Therefore, just as then they could not be without a king, so after Tarquin was expelled they could not hear the royal title.39

The Romans’ hostility to kingship, however, could hardly go back to the sixth century BC. As Elizabeth Rawson has observed, the second-century and early first-century BC authors still show an ambivalent attitude towards kingship when dealing with issues of foreign policy, and the term rex appears to be mostly used by them with a neutral or even favourable connotation.40 The Roman kings as well, except for Tarquin the Proud, are both treated favourably by the literary sources and claimed as ancestors by contemporary noble families (such as the Marcii Reges, the Calpurnii, and the Pomponii) in their race for office and political prestige.41 Andrew Erskine, in turn, emphasizes the connection between the Romans’ anti-monarchical sentiment and their experience with the Hellenistic monarchies, suggesting that the hatred for the nomen regium originated in the second century BC.42 The terms rex and regnum appear to have acquired a markedly negative meaning in

37 Cf. RA 5.1.1-2: afterwards the newly elected consuls, fearing to appear in front of the masses as two kings, decide to alternate the use of the lictors carrying rods only and those carrying axes (also stated in Liv. 2.1.8). On the parallel between the consuls and other early eponymous magistrates (e.g., in Assyria and at Sparta) see Cornell 1995: 221. 38 Cf., e.g., Sall. Jug. 31.7-9; Cic. Att. 8.11.2, Off. 3.83-84, Rep. 2.49, 2.52; Liv. 1.46.3, 2.1.9; RA 4.73.3, 5.19.1-3; among the later sources, cf. Plut. Publ. 1.4; Dio 53.17.2. 39 Rep. 2.52: pulsoque Tarquinio, tantum odium populum Romanum regalis nominis tenuit, quantum tenuerat post obitum vel potius excessum Romuli desiderium. itaque ut tum carere rege, sic pulso Tarquinio nomen regis audire non poterat. Cf. Rep. 1.62, which appears to emphasize that this report was well-known: “Don’t you know that it was because of the unsuitability and haughtiness of one man, Tarquinius, that the royal title became hateful to this people?” (tu non vides unius inportunitate et superbia Tarquinii nomen huic populo in odium venisse regium?). 40 Rawson 1975: 150-6; cf. Erskine 1991: 111-4. 41 On the treatment of the Roman kings in the ancient literary tradition, see Erskine 1991: 107-8. On Roman conceptions of kingship in more general terms, see Smith 2011: 21-42. 42 Erskine 1991, esp. 115-20; cf. Gabba 1991: 161-2; Muntz 2017: 210-3.

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the later stages of the Republic, being closely associated with tyranny as well as attempts (real or alleged) by ambitious individuals at seizing supreme power—a process that could only become more manifest with Caesar’s dictatorship and assassination.43 Caesar’s opponents conveniently drew parallels between the expulsion of Tarquin by L. Brutus and the necessity for his alleged descendant Marcus to eliminate the ‘tyrant’ Caesar (cf. chap. 5.1.4, below). At this time, the term regnum came to be opposed to libertas, and the charge of seeking regnum started to be regarded 44 as the most serious threat to the citizens’ political liberty. The terms in which Dionysius envisions the origin of the Republican government appear to combine elements from the contemporary Roman literary tradition—which describe the office of king and the related terminology and insignia with overt loathing—with elements drawn from the recent political history. Specifically, Brutus’s call for moderation in displaying the symbols of power, as well as his sensible advice on how to modify them, may invite a comparison with episodes in the late life of Caesar, such as the profusion of honours that the senate poured on him and the increasing references to his royal status. Let us consider the relevant account of Cassius

Dio’s history, which is likely the most detailed among the extant sources:

First then they voted that he would always be carried even in the city itself wearing the triumphal robe and would sit in his official chair everywhere except at the games. (...) Since he was pleased by these things, a gilded chair was given to him, and a robe that the kings had once used, and a guard of men from the knights and senators. (...) And since he was pleased by these things, too, therefore they voted that his gilded chair and his crown set with precious stones and gold, just like those of the gods, would be carried in the theatres and his chariot would be led in at the horse-races. (...) And so being himself in this position those who were plotting acted no longer with hesitation, but in order that he would become hateful even to those who were very friendly to him, they made false accusation against him and finally addressed him as king, and they spread around much this name even among themselves. (...) For after he entered the forum at the Lupercalia and was sitting on his gilded chair upon the tribunal being adorned with the royal dress and shining in his golden crown, and Anthony with his fellow-priests addressed him as king and wreathed him with a royal diadem, saying that, etc.45

43 Cf. Rawson 1975: 156-8; Erskine 1991: 114. 44 Erskine 1991: 115; cf. Arena 2012: 179-200, on the related issue of conferring extraordinary powers and irregular offices to politicians, which was considered by the contemporaries as detrimental to libertas: “…all those who opposed the conferral of extraordinary powers claimed that the implementation of this measure went against the very foundation of the res publica and its liberty” (ibid, 186). 45 Dio 44.4.2: τὰ μὲν γὰρ πρῶτα φέρεσθαί τε αὐτὸν ἀεὶ καὶ ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ πόλει τὴν στολὴν τὴν ἐπινίκιον ἐνδεδυκότα, καὶ καθέζεσθαι ἐπὶ τοῦ ἀρχικοῦ δίφρου πανταχῇ πλὴν ἐν ταῖς πανηγύρεσιν, ἐψηφίσαντο; 44.6.1: ὡς δὲ καὶ τούτοις ἔχαιρε, δίφρος τέ οἱ ἐπίχρυσος, καὶ στολὴ ᾗ ποτε οἱ βασιλῆς ἐκέχρηντο, φρουρά τε ἐκ τῶν ἱππέων καὶ ἐκ τῶν βουλευτῶν ἐδόθη; 44.6.3: καὶ ἐπειδὴ καὶ τούτοις ἠρέσκετο, οὕτω δὴ ἔς τε τὰ θέατρα τόν τε δίφρον αὐτοῦ τὸν ἐπίχρυσον καὶ τὸν στέφανον τὸν διάλιθον καὶ διάχρυσον, ἐξ ἴσου τοῖς τῶν θεῶν, ἐσκομίζεσθαι κἀν ταῖς ἱπποδρομίαις ὀχὸν ἐσάγεσθαι ἐψηφίσαντο; 44.9.1: ἐνταῦθα οὖν αὐτοῦ ὄντος οὐδὲν ἔτι ἐνδοιαστῶς οἱ ἐπιβουλεύοντές οἱ ἔπραττον, ἀλλ᾽ ὅπως δὴ καὶ τοῖς πάνυ φίλοις ἐν μίσει γένηται, ἄλλα τε ἐπὶ διαβολῇ αὐτοῦ ἐποίουν καὶ τέλος βασιλέα αὐτὸν προσηγόρευον, καὶ πολὺ τοῦτο τοὔνομα καὶ κατὰ σφᾶς διεθρύλουν; 44.11.2: ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ἐν τῇ τῶν Λυκαίων γυμνοπαιδίᾳ ἔς τε τὴν ἀγορὰν ἐσῆλθε καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ βήματος τῇ τε ἐσθῆτι τῇ βασιλικῇ κεκοσμημένος

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These honours are mentioned, with slight variations, by other authors as well: Caesar’s use of the triumphal costume and his quite explicit approval of using the title of rex (here βασιλεύς) to address him—including the episode of the Lupercalia—are also related by Plutarch, Suetonius, and Appian (Plut. Ant. 12, Caes. 57.2-3, 60-61; Suet. Caes. 79; App. BC 2.106-9; although Suetonius omits the detail of the triumphal dress; cf. Liv. Per. 116). The grant of a gilded throne is reported by Suetonius, who counts it among the honours decreed to Caesar that were excessive for mortals (ampliora etiam humano fastigio, Caes. 76.1), and by Appian (BC 106).46 The specific references to the same motifs in Dionysius’s text and, at the same time, the possibly wide resonance of Caesar’s quasi-regal attitude, could point to Dionysius’s use of a late Republican source, whose writing may closely reflect the events surrounding Caesar’s death.47 However, I would not exclude the possibility that the whole passage was Dionysius’s own creation, devised with the specific aim of explaining to his Greek readership how the Romans could establish a new form of government while maintaining the substance and nature of their ancestral constitution unaltered. This was indeed an important point in Dionysius’s project, since it emphasized the idea that the Romans had a virtually perfect state and government since the foundation of the city—a state where the Greek civic values had always been rooted and effectively cultivated and where, due to the successful outcome of these factors, constitutional changes were ultimately just formal. Lastly, the notion of ‘camouflaging’ the monarchical appearance of the chief magistracies could be intriguingly associated with Augustus’s already discussed policy of recusatio and his efforts to distance himself from his adoptive father’s attitude (on which cf. chap. 1.3 with n. 81; 4.3.1 n. 184), although the possibility that Dionysius actually found inspiration in that is rather speculative. As his last measure, Brutus suggests limiting the duration of the chief magistracy: since an office held for life could easily degenerate into tyranny, the Romans ought to permit the same men to hold power for no longer than one year, “as happens among the Athenians” (ὡς παρ᾽ Ἀθηναίοις γίνεται, 4.74.2). As in the case of the collegiality of the magistracy, which is said to be inspired by

καὶ τῷ στεφάνῳ τῷ διαχρύσῳ λαμπρυνόμενος ἐς τὸν δίφρον τὸν κεχρυσωμένον ἐκαθίζετο, καὶ αὐτὸν ὁ Ἀντώνιος βασιλέα τε μετὰ τῶν συνιερέων προσηγόρευσε καὶ διαδήματι ἀνέδησεν, εἰπὼν ὅτι, etc. 46 On Caesar’s honours, see Weinstock 1971, esp. 40-42, 62-64, 103-11; Gradel 2002: 54-72. 47 J.H. Richardson (2011: 155-161) has convincingly contended that Dionysius drew information about L. Brutus’s family status and descendants from Q. Aelius Tubero, who—as previously mentioned—was an intimate of Dionysius and likely a supporter of Caesar (cf. chap. 2.1.1). Richardson’s argument is based on Dionysius’s citations of Tubero’s work elsewhere in the RA and on Tubero’s knowledge of legal matters, which would make him a suitable source for the discussion of patrician and plebeian magistracies at RA 5.18. Considering Tubero’s involvement in recent political affairs, he could be the source for this portion of Brutus’s story as well.

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Sparta’s shared kingship (4.73.4, above), in this instance as well Dionysius supplies a well-known Greek norm as a precedent for a Roman one. As previously considered, in describing the Romulean constitution Dionysius often refers to Greek models, especially ones drawn from Athens and Sparta, to justify Romulus’s innovations (cf., e.g., RA 2.8.2-3, 2.9.2, 2.12.3, 2.13.4, 2.23.3, 2.30.5) and he offers frequent parallels between Roman and Greek customs (cf., e.g., 2.22.2-4, 2.23.2; chap. 4.2.2).48 By citing Athenian and Spartan practices as precedents for the Republican institutions as well, Dionysius both underscores the continuity of the Greek influence over their development and provides his readers with easily identifiable terms of comparison by which to measure the Roman institutions. After expounding this final measure, Brutus lays out an elaborate procedure to lawfully elect the new magistrates,49 and, in closing his speech, he makes an appeal for the constant collaboration of the supreme magistrates with the senate and the popular assembly, which alone could guarantee the efficiency of the government. The concluding statement—which leaves little doubt about the pro-senatorial sentiment of Dionysius (or his source)—underlines, once more, the necessity of civil concord as the basis for a stable and flourishing state and, at the same time, the characteristic form of the Roman government as a mixed constitution:

Indeed, I affirm that these men [i.e., the consuls] ought to examine each matter with the meeting of the senate, just as the kings used to do, and to effect nothing against your will, and to lay before the people the things that have been decreed by the senate, as it was customary for our ancestors to do, taking away from them none of the things over which they had power in earlier times. For in this way the workings of this magistracy will be the safest and best for them.50

In this way, Brutus persuades those present to preserve the government instituted by Tarquin’s predecessors. The patricians decide that Sp. Lucretius is to be appointed interrex and Brutus and Collatinus the first annual magistrates, to be called thereafter “consuls” (κωνσούλας, ὕπατοι in Greek, RA 4.76.2). Notably, Brutus now openly addresses his associates as members of the senate

48 See Gabba 1960: 181-2; Delcourt 2005: 156-74. 49 In the elaborate procedure that Brutus describes, the people, assembled by his authority as commander of the Celeres, will be asked at first to pass their vote upon the exile of Tarquin and his family. Next, Brutus will explain his proposals for the new government to the people; he will then appoint an interrex for the election of the magistrates and will resign his office. The people will be asked again to give their vote and ratify the choice of the consuls proposed by the interrex, which shall be sanctioned by positive auspicia as well: “let these men, having assumed the axes and the other symbols of royal power, bring about that we live in a free country and that the Tarquins make no longer return” (τοὺς πελέκεις οὗτοι παραλαβόντες καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ τῆς βασιλικῆς ἐξουσίας σύμβολα πραττέτωσαν, ὅπως ἐλευθέραν οἰκήσομεν τὴν πατρίδα καὶ μηκέτι κάθοδον ἕξουσιν εἰς αὐτὴν Ταρκύνιοι, 4.75.2; cf. Fascione 1993: 60). 50 RA 4.75.4: σκοπεῖσθαι μέντοι φημὶ χρῆναι τοὺς ἄνδρας ἅπαντα μετὰ τοῦ συνεδρίου τῆς βουλῆς, ὥσπερ οἱ βασιλεῖς ἐποίουν, καὶ μηδὲν πράττειν δίχα ὑμῶν καὶ τὰ δόξαντα τῇ βουλῇ φέρειν εἰς τὸν δῆμον, ὡς τοῖς προγόνοις ἡμῶν ποιεῖν ἔθος ἦν, μηδενὸς ἀφαιρουμένους αὐτὸν ὧν ἐν τοῖς πρότερον καιροῖς κύριος ἦν. οὕτω γὰρ αὐτοῖς ἀσφαλέστατα καὶ κάλλιστα ἕξει τὰ τῆς ἀρχῆς.

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(cf. 4.75.4, above). In this regard, Schultze has observed that by the end of this speech, Dionysius seems to have forgotten that Brutus is not speaking in a senate meeting but is instead having a private conversation with a few relatives and peers.51 As noted earlier, however, unlike other sources Dionysius sets the scene of the Roman nobiles’ oath not in Collatia but in Rome, that is, in the political centre of the action. Moreover, he does not specify the exact number of men present, but states that Lucretia had many prominent Romans summoned to her father’s house before revealing Sextus’s misdeed (4.67.1). It is very likely, then, that in Dionysius’s mind these men were indeed members of the senate and that their meeting was not entirely conceived of as an unofficial gathering—being in fact characterized by an unusual level of formality. The overall idea expressed by Brutus of restoring the constitution established by the ancestors and endangered by a crisis may recall a theme that was not only contemporary to Dionysius, but also rather significant in the ongoing promotion of the princeps’ public image. It is well-known, and it has been frequently emphasized in the previous chapters, that Augustus strove to depict himself as the restorer of Republican liberty, and his entire policy was overtly concerned with the revival of the old Republican institutions.52 It is true that Dionysius portrays Brutus as a champion of the monarchy, whereas Augustus firmly denied any monarchical connotations to his rule. However, the element that ought to be highlighted here and that is common to Brutus’s portrayal in the Roman Antiquities and Augustus’s self-presentation is the aspect of ostensible continuity in preserving the ancestral political system, which is persistently referred to, in both cases, as the most desirable for the Roman people. One final remark concerns the nature of the power of the Roman kings. The Roman antiquarian and historical tradition regarded the imperium of the Republican magistrates and royal power as substantially equivalent. Livy best expresses this idea at the beginning of his account of the newly established Republic: “…but you could reckon the origin of liberty from that time more because the consular authority was made annual than because any aspect of the royal power had been reduced.”53 Commenting on Livy’s text, Ogilvie argues that, while the royal power and the

51 Schultze 2011: 87. 52 Cf., in particular, RG 1.1, and 34.1: “after I had extinguished the civil wars... I transferred the res publica from my power to the authority of the senate and the Roman people” (postquam bella civilia exstinxeram ...rem publicam ex mea potestate in senatus populique Romani arbitrium transtuli). On this text, see Cooley 2009: 256-60, who moreover underlines the importance of the principle of collegiality for Augustus. On Augustus’s ‘restoration’ of the res publica, besides the bibliography given at chap. 1.2 n. 63 and 1.3, cf. Eder 1990: 83-120; Galinsky 1996: 42-77. 53 Liv. 2.1.7: libertatis autem originem inde magis quia annuum imperium consulare factum est quam quod deminutum quicquam sit ex regia potestate numeres.

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imperium of Republican magistrates were in fact distinct in kind, “this polite fiction [was] in keeping with the tendency to see the transition from the king to the consuls as part of a continuous development and to suppose that the power of the kings rested on the same ultimate grounds as that of the consuls.”54 The concept expressed by Livy is common to Greek sources as well. Polybius, for instance, in describing the functions of the consuls observes: “so that it would be reasonable to say, if one should look attentively at this part, that the constitution is purely monarchical and royal” (ὥστ᾽ εἰκότως εἰπεῖν ἄν, ὅτε τις εἰς ταύτην ἀποβλέψειε τὴν μερίδα, διότι μοναρχικὸν ἁπλῶς καὶ βασιλικόν ἐστι τὸ πολίτευμα, 6.12.9).55 Appian, when reporting the motivations for Caesar’s murder in his account of the civil wars, states that the conspirators ostensibly feared that if Caesar conquered the Parthians he would become a king in every respect. This—Appian observes—was a specious excuse, as the only difference would have been the name of Caesar’s office: “in fact the dictator is precisely a king” (ἔργῳ δὲ καὶ τοῦ δικτάτορος ὄντος ἀκριβῶς βασιλέως, BC 2.111). Dionysius himself, in relating the events immediately following Brutus’s speech to the patricians, states that “L. Junius Brutus and L. Tarquinius Collatinus [were] nominated by [Sp. Lucretius] to hold the authority of the kings” (ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνου δὲ τοὺς ἕξοντας τὴν τῶν βασιλέων ἐξουσίαν ὀνομασθῆναι Λεύκιον Ἰούνιον Βροῦτον καὶ Λεύκιον Ταρκύνιον Κολλατῖνον, 4.76.1). Next, when Brutus communicates the patricians’ resolution to the people, Dionysius has him affirm: “When we consider what magistracy will have power over the common affairs, it seems best to us not to establish the kingship again, but to elect two magistrates every year holding the royal power.”56 Again, in relating the story of the Decemvirate, Dionysus states that the decemvirs “held the power over all the affairs regarding the city, which both the consuls and even before them the kings used to hold” (ἐξουσίαν ἔχοντας ὑπὲρ ἁπάντων τῶν κατὰ τὴν πόλιν ἣν εἶχον οἵ τε ὕπατοι καὶ ἔτι πρότερον οἱ βασιλεῖς, RA 10.55.4).57 In Dionysius’s case the “polite

54 Ogilvie 1965: 229; cf. 235: “The consuls governed Rome not by the absolute authority which the kings had enjoyed but by power vested in them by the will of the people. Regnum and Respublica are irreconcilable concepts.” On the nature of the Republican magistrates’ power, see Lintott 1999: 94-104. 55 Even though Polybius is trying to fit the Roman Republican constitution into his threefold theory of governamental development (I owe this observation to Christopher Mackay). 56 RA 4.84.4: ἡμῖν σκοπουμένοις, τίς ἀρχὴ γενήσεται τῶν κοινῶν κυρία, βασιλείαν μὲν οὐκέτι καταστήσασθαι δοκεῖ, ἄρχοντας δὲ δύο καθ᾽ ἕκαστον ἐνιαυτὸν ἀποδεικνύναι βασιλικὴν ἕξοντας ἐξουσίαν. Sautel (1999: 84-85) commenting on this passage observes: “Les termes employés, ἀρχή et ἐξουσία, qualifient donc le pouvoir souverain à Rome, que ce soit sous la forme de la royauté ou celle de l’imperium consulaire auquel elle donne naissance… le pouvoir royal est fondamentalement le même que celui des consuls, parce que l’imperium ne change pas de nature.” 57 Cf. also RA 5.2.1 about the suspicion with which the people began to regard the first two consuls, in consequence of which the consuls had to remove the axes from the fasces. Augustus’s Principate came to be regularly referred to, by the later sources, as a monarchy (cf., e.g., Plut. Fort. Rom. 7; Tac. Ann. 1.1; Dio 53.17.1).

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fiction,” as Ogilvie styles it, is all the more valuable, since it supports his presentation of the Republican government as an improved form of the Roman ancestral monarchy.

5.1.3 Amor Patriae above All: The Fate of L. Brutus’s Children

According to the Roman tradition, soon after the establishment of the Republic Brutus’s sons from his wife Vitellia—Titus and Tiberius—together with their maternal uncles (the Vitellii), the nephews of Collatinus (the Aquilii), and other young aristocrats, conspired with the former king in an attempt to reinstate him in Rome and return to him his powers as ruler. The conspiracy was unmasked thanks to the prompt intervention of a servant of the Aquilii, Vindicius, who was freed as a reward for his service to the country. The conspirators received the death penalty for their treason. Brutus, despite being father to two of them, showed no clemency, but in his capacity as consul pronounced death sentence on his sons and the other culprits alike (cf. Liv. 2.3-5; RA 5.6- 8; Val. Max. 3.8.1; Plut. Publ. 3-7). Dionysius’s treatment of this episode betrays defensiveness in presenting it to a Greek audience and deserves a closer look. Between the descriptions of the conspiracy and the hearing, Dionysius interjects the following apologetic statement:

As I have to relate the subsequent deeds of Brutus, one of the two consuls, which are great and astounding, of which the Romans have the highest consideration, I fear that I will seem to tell harsh and incredible things to the Greeks, since everyone is naturally inclined to judge from one’s own experiences the things said about others and to make what is credible incredible in their eyes; nevertheless, I will tell them.58

By this assertion, Dionysius implies that this sort of extreme severity towards one’s own offspring was unlikely to be understood or approved of by the Greeks, although for the Romans it ostensibly constituted the highest example of “public duty triumphing over private relationship”59—but in fact the Roman writers did not accept this tradition without any qualms, as considered below. The topic of the great severity of Roman fathers towards their children is not new to Dionysius’s history: as previously considered, in his treatment of Romulus’s legislation Dionysius examines the regulations concerning father-and-children relationships (2.26-27) and commends Romulus’s measures for their superiority over analogous Greek laws (2.26.1; see discussion at

58 RA 5.8.1: τὰ δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ἔργα θατέρου τῶν ὑπάτων Βρούτου μεγάλα καὶ θαυμαστὰ λέγειν ἔχων, ἐφ᾽ οἷς μέγιστα φρονοῦσι Ῥωμαῖοι, δέδοικα μὴ σκληρὰ καὶ ἄπιστα τοῖς Ἕλλησι δόξω λέγειν, ἐπειδὴ πεφύκασιν ἅπαντες ἀπὸ τῶν ἰδίων παθῶν τὰ περὶ τῶν ἄλλων λεγόμενα κρίνειν καὶ τὸ πιστὸν ἄπιστον ἐφ᾽ ἑαυτοὺς ποιεῖν∙ ἐρῶ δ᾽ οὖν ὅμως. 59 Ogilvie 1965: 241.

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chap. 4.2.2 c). In particular, he claims, the Greeks allowed their children to become independent when still fairly young and the fathers to inflict only mild punishments on them; the Romans, on the other hand, gave unlimited power to the fathers during the entire life of their children, regardless of the age, occupation, and reputation of the latter (RA 2.26.2-5).60 In stressing these different approaches, Dionysius suggests that the possible negative judgment on the Greeks’ part does not depend on the intrinsic value of the Roman laws, which he overtly praises for their efficacy, but rather on the relaxed habits of those judging (2.27.1), shifting the focus of the matter from the moral acceptability of the Roman practice to the ‘slack’ morals of the Greeks. The discussion of such regulations in the account of Romulus’s constitution thus supplies a suitable prelude for the narrative of Brutus’s act. Even in the present circumstance Dionysius endeavours to maintain an overtly positive characterization of Brutus’s figure, embellishing the narrative with several devices which make Brutus appear as an exemplary model of pietas, justice, and stoic endurance, and which were likely intended to raise feelings of sympathy in the readers.61 Dionysius carefully constructs the whole episode through a long and well-planned preamble. Like Livy and (later) Plutarch, he reports that right after the establishment of the new government, Brutus makes the people swear a solemn oath that they will never again allow anyone to be king in Rome, in this way extending to all the Romans the same oath that he was the first to take over the body of Lucretia and that he persuaded the patricians to take (5.1.3; cf. Liv. 2.1.9; Plut. Publ. 2.2; also, App. BC 2.119).62 In Dionysius’s version, however, in all the four instances in which this oath is mentioned (that is, besides the present circumstance, upon Lucretia’s death, RA 4.70.5; during Brutus’s previous address to the people, 4.84.2; and in his describing the oath

60 A classic example of severity was represented by Manlius Torquatus, cited at RA 2.26.6: “For I abstain from relating how many men of brave character induced by their valour and eagerness to accomplish some other noble deed, which their fathers did not order, their fathers put to death, just as we have heard about Manlius Torquatus and many others” (ἐῶ γὰρ λέγειν ὅσους ἀπέκτειναν οἱ πατέρες ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς ὑπ᾽ ἀρετῆς καὶ προθυμίας ἕτερόν τι διαπράξασθαι ἔργον γενναῖον προαχθέντας, ὃ μὴ προσέταξαν αὐτοῖς οἱ πατέρες, καθάπερ ἐπὶ Μαλλίου Τορκουάτου καὶ πολλῶν ἄλλων παρειλήφαμεν). The young Manlius was put to death because he engaged in single combat with a Latin foe, contravening the order of his father. On the episode (not preserved in the RA), cf. Liv. 8.6.9-8.2; Val. Max. 5.8.3. On this and other examples of paternal severity, see Chaplin 2000: 108-19 (with special reference to Livy); Lentano 2008: 886-8. Polybius, on the other hand, expresses genuine admiration for this custom: “and some while holding offices put to death their own sons against every custom or law, holding dearer the interest of their country than natural relationship with their closest kins” (καὶ μὴν ἀρχὰς ἔχοντες ἔνιοι τοὺς ἰδίους υἱοὺς παρὰ πᾶν ἔθος ἢ νόμον ἀπέκτειναν, περὶ πλείονος ποιούμενοι τὸ τῆς πατρίδος συμφέρον τῆς κατὰ φύσιν οἰκειότητος πρὸς τοὺς ἀναγκαιοτάτους, 6.54.5). 61 As Marincola has observed in his contribution to the study of emotions in ancient historiography (2003: 291-2), leading the audience into an emotional state of mind was deemed by Dionysius (among others) as one of the main goals of the orator (cf. Dion. Hal. Dem. 18, 22). 62 Ogilvie 1965: 236.

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to Tarquin’s ambassadors, 5.5.1), Brutus adds to the main proposition the provision that the Romans should not allow anyone to conspire for Tarquin’s return. By reiterating the circumstances of the oath and remarking on its terms, Dionysius builds a strong ethical motivation as well as a legal argument for Brutus’s subsequent sentence against his sons. The account of Brutus’s conduct during his sons’ hearing, then, develops with an emotional climax that exalts Brutus’s qualities. Brutus’s behaviour and the reactions of his sons to it are deliberately contrasted by Dionysius to amplify the pathos of the story. As the scene becomes increasingly pitiable, the consul is described as keeping the same imperturbable countenance: at first, he is said to have remained composed when his sons, having been asked to speak in self- defence, stay silent and start weeping in shame (5.8.3); next, Brutus pronounces his verdict upon them, amidst general bewilderment and consternation—but again, his face does not betray any emotion. After the sentence, the two lads start to entreat him desperately, and so do the people gathered at the hearing; but Brutus, even so, is relentless in his compliance with the law (5.8.4). Dionysius stresses the latter aspect by lingering on all possible details, noting, for instance, that Brutus does not ask for his sons to be executed privately, but has them carried to the forum, and that he does not spare them from being scourged as prescribed by law before being beheaded (5.8.5). The description culminates with a remark on Brutus’s stoic ability to manage his emotions:

But above all the incredible and admirable things of the man was the intent staring of his eyes and his not being softened by tears; and while all the others, who were present at this calamity, wept, he was the only one who was seen neither bursting into tears about the fate of his sons, nor bewailing loudly himself because loneliness was about to descend upon his household, nor showing any other sign of softness, but persisting without tear, without sigh, and immovable, he bore his misfortune stout-hearted. To such an extent was he strong in will and firm in maintaining his decisions and master of the passions that trouble reasoning.63

Brutus’s ostensible impassiveness in front of the flogging and death of his children is a common feature in the ancient accounts about this episode. None of them, however, ascribes to him this quasi-philosophical self-control and praises him overtly. In Livy’s version, too, Brutus is said to have kept an inflexible demeanour during the punishment of his sons, but Livy does not pass any judgment on the consul’s action (2.5.8; cf. Val. Max. 3.8.1). Plutarch gives more details (mostly agreeing with Dionysius’s account) but concludes the story by recognizing the difficulty to assess

63 RA 5.8.6: ὑπὲρ ἅπαντα δὲ τὰ παράδοξα καὶ θαυμαστὰ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς τὸ ἀτενὲς τῆς ὄψεως καὶ ἄτεγκτον ἦν∙ ὅς γε τῶν ἄλλων ἁπάντων ὅσοι τῷ πάθει παρεγένοντο κλαιόντων μόνος οὔτ᾽ ἀνακλαυσάμενος ὤφθη τὸν μόρον τῶν τέκνων οὔτ᾽ ἀποιμώξας ἑαυτὸν τῆς καθεξούσης τὸν οἶκον ἐρημίας οὔτ᾽ ἄλλο μαλακὸν οὐθὲν ἐνδούς, ἀλλ᾽ ἄδακρύς τε καὶ ἀστένακτος καὶ ἀτενὴς διαμένων εὐκαρδίως ἤνεγκε τὴν συμφοράν. οὕτως ἰσχυρὸς ἦν τὴν γνώμην καὶ βέβαιος τὰ κριθέντα διατηρεῖν καὶ τῶν ἐπιταραττόντων τοὺς λογισμοὺς παθῶν καρτερός.

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Brutus’s action and emphasizing its ambivalent interpretation: “having performed a deed which it is not possible for those who wish to either to commend or to blame fittingly” (ἔργον εἰργασμένος οὔτ᾽ ἐπαινεῖν βουλομένοις ἀξίως οὔτε ψέγειν ἐφικτόν, Publ. 6.3). An ambiguous portrait of Brutus also emerges from Virgil’s description of him in the ‘gallery of heroes’ in Aeneid Book 6:

Would you like to see also the kings Tarquinii and the haughty spirit of Brutus the avenger, and the rods that he got? This man will be the first to receive the consular power and the fierce axes, and as a father will call his sons, who were stirring up new wars, to punishment, for the sake of fair freedom. Unhappy, however posterity will hand down his deeds, love of his fatherland and immeasurable desire of praises will prevail.64

As commentators have argued, Virgil’s passage may link the figure of L. Brutus to Caesar’s assassin, M. Brutus, through textual allusions, such as the definition of L. Brutus as ultor, which was also shared by his alleged descendant, the reference to his superbia (this seemingly being a feature of M. Brutus’s character), and the ambivalent reception of his deed by posterity.65 The mention of libertas as L. Brutus’s motivation also invites a comparison with M. Brutus’s personal and political struggle.66 Virgil’s text may reflect the feeling of anxiety, which was likely still perceived by his contemporaries, surrounding Caesar’s assassination and Octavian’s subsequent war with his father’s murderers (who were in fact supporters of Republican values). As I discuss in the following section, while the association between the two Bruti—the first consul and the first-century BC ‘tyrannicide’—was possibly a frequent feature of the anti-Caesarian propaganda (and was accepted by later sources too, such as Plutarch, cf. chap. 5.1.4), Dionysius does not pick up on this hint. Indeed, he explicitly denies any connection between the two figures. Overall, through this episode Dionysius presents Brutus not only as a devout leader, fully committed to the preservation of his country, but also as an exceptionally self-restrained figure, thus emphasizing his personal qualities. Dionysius also uses Brutus’s relentless sense of justice to explain the abdication of his colleague, Collatinus. After punishing his sons with unmovable

64 Verg. Aen. 6.817-23: Vis et Tarquinios reges animamque superbam / ultoris Bruti, fascisque videre receptos? / Consulis imperium hic primus saevasque secures / accipiet, natosque pater nova bella moventes / ad poenam pulchra pro libertate vocabit. / Infelix, utcumque ferent ea facta minores, / vincet amor patriae laudumque immensa cupido. 65 These points are discussed in Feeney 1986: 10-11, and Horsfall 2013: 557-61 (with complete bibliographical references); cf. Mastrocinque 1988: 116-7; La Penna 2003: 231-5. Horsfall (2013: 557-8) underscores the difficulty of interpretation of the phrase animamque superbam already for ancient readers (cf. Serv. Aen. 6.817), as superbia was rather the canonical characteristic of Tarquin. La Penna confidently refers animamque superbam to Brutus, but gives a more nuanced interpretation of the meaning of superbia, suggesting that here it bears a positive connotation: “Intransigenza, inflessibilità, inesorabilità, sicurezza nei propri principi morali, asprezza d’indole, orgoglio (...) possono essere alla base del giudizio di superbia. Non un elogio, ma tanto meno un biasimo” (ibid, 233). 66 Cf. Horsfall’s comment at 2013: 557: “Contrast Caesar and reflect indeed upon his death at the hands of a descendant of old Brutus, moved by love of doxa [App. BC 2.114] after his assault upon Republican libertas.”

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strictness, Brutus is said to have demanded that the same punishment be inflicted upon Collatinus’s nephews, the Aquilii. Unlike Brutus, however, Collatinus is willing to spare the lives of his relatives, a possibility that is met with Brutus’s strong opposition. Collatinus is then forced to resign his office and P. Valerius is elected consul in his stead (5.9-12; cf. Plut. Publ. 7.1-4). According to another version, attested by Cicero and Livy, Collatinus had to abdicate in favour of P. Valerius soon after his election, since the presence of a member of the Tarquinian clan in the government provoked the people’s suspicions. Because of the last king’s despotic behaviour, the name Tarquinius had become hateful to the Romans (Liv. 2.2.3; Cic. Off. 3.40).67 While Dionysius may have been aware of this version, the account of Collatinus’s attempts at sparing the lives of the Aquilii offers him the opportunity to emphasize even further Brutus’s formidable devotion and his inflexibility in adherence to the law. When Collatinus, exasperated by his colleague’s denials, tries to veto his action (RA 5.9.3), Brutus summons the assembly; in his subsequent speech, he denounces the partiality of Collatinus’s behavior and the necessity of punishing the traitors of the country, and remarks on his own compliance with the law and the oath previously sworn, eventually causing the people to pass a vote for Collatinus’s abdication and exile (5.10-11). Lastly, it is worth noting that Dionysius provides no solid motivation for the adherence of Brutus’s sons to the conspiracy, but simply observes, in sympathetic terms, that “folly and infatuation seized those unhappy [youths]” (ἄνοια καὶ θεοβλάβεια τοὺς δυστήνους ἐκείνους κατέσχεν, 5.7.1), as if to limit their responsibility and conscious involvement in the coup. The young men, Dionysius says, were persuaded to write letters by the promise of a reward by the tyrant, who wanted to know which Romans he had to thank for his reinstatement (RA 5.7.1). This detail adds to the youths’ naivety by emphasizing their lack of mindful assessment of the peril they were about to incur. Livy, on the contrary, dwells at length on the corruptible nature of young minds and describes, in critical tones, how many young men longed for the king’s return, being used to the companionship of Tarquin’s sons and accustomed to living in a kingly fashion (2.3.1-

67 Cf. discussion about the nomen regium at chap. 5.1.2, above. According to the literary sources, Collatinus was a son of Egerius (“the indigent”), who was in turn the son of Arruns, Tarquinius Priscus’s brother (cf. Liv. 1.34.2-3, 38.1; RA 3.50.3, 4.64.3). Dionysius proposes instead that Collatinus was Egerius’s grandson, since he must have been of the same age as Sextus Tarquinius. On the insertion of this character in the saga see Wiseman 2003: 30-32 = 2008: 299-301, who maintains that while the presence of a kinsman of the king as wronged husband and first consul apparently complicates the plot, since it requires the fabrication of a whole new branch of the Tarquinian family, Collatinus’s name is needed to justify his exile and the election of Valerius Publicola as first consul together with Brutus. The story of Collatinus’s abdication was likely moulded on the account of the ostracism, in 488/7 BC, of Hipparchus son of Charmus, who belonged to a collateral branch of the Peisistratids, on the ground that he had the same name as Peisistratus’s son (see Ogilvie 1965: 238-9; Mastrocinque 1988: 34).

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2).68 Livy suggests—perhaps alluding to the contemporary corruption of the Roman aristocracy— that the enjoyment of privileges eventually resulted in a vicious lifestyle for the young patricians, since under the king they could do whatever they pleased; thus some of them, in the hope of restoring their former circumstances, joined the conspiracy. This characterization echoes Sallust’s description of Catiline’s followers, where the young members of the aristocratic families are said to be the main target of Catiline’s pernicious influence (Cat. 14.4-6). Sallust’s work may have supplied a suitable precedent for Livy’s retelling of the conspiracy in question; on the other hand, the inclination to laziness and debauchery of young aristocrats was a literary topos. For instance, young aristocrats are indicated as a threat to social order in Polybius’s history, too, where they are generally regarded as unable to control their impulses and appetites and to resist the temptations coming from wealth.69 Such a moralizing tone, by contrast, is absent from Dionysius’s account, who in fact appears inclined to minimize hints at the corruption of the early Roman ruling class.70

5.1.4 The Figure of L. Junius Brutus in the Late Republican Struggle

The theme of the death of Brutus’s children comes out twice more in Dionysius’s account. Dionysius mentions it for two distinct purposes: first, as I argue, to stress the ‘otherness’ of the Etruscans (represented here by Tarquin’s son, Arruns) and secondly, to dispute the claims to Brutus’s descent advanced by the later Junii Bruti (below). The first motif emerges during the battle, following the failed conspiracy, between the Romans and the coalition of Etruscan forces supporting the Tarquins—a battle which eventually costs Brutus his own life.71 The ancient

68 Cf. Liv. 2.3.3: “Now, with the law having become the same for everyone, longing for that licence, they continually complained between themselves that the liberty of the others had turned into their slavery: the king was a person, from whom one could obtain what was needed, at times a right, others an offence” (eam tum, aequato iure omnium, licentiam quaerentes, libertatem aliorum in suam uertisse seruitutem inter se conquerebantur: regem hominem esse, a quo impetres, ubi ius, ubi iniuria opus sit). 69 Cf. Edwards 1993, esp. 82, 102-3, 176-9; on Polybius, see Eckstein 1995: 140-50, with references and discussion of all the relevant passages; on the relation between Livy and Sallust, see Chaplin 2000: 25-29; on Livy’s text, cf. Ogilvie 1965: 241-4. Cf. also Plut. Publ. 3.4, in which Brutus’s sons are said to have been persuaded by their uncles to join the conspiracy with the promise “to deliver themselves from the foolishness and severity of their father” (ἀπαλλαγῆναι τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς ἀβελτερίας καὶ χαλεπότητος). Plutarch adds that Brutus became notorious for the severity with which he punished criminals (Publ. 3.4), a detail that is not mentioned in the other sources, but which may be intended here to justify the subsequent treatment of his sons. 70 This attitude is moreover consistent with the numerous statements about the exemplary virtues of the ancient Romans (cf., e.g., RA 1.5.3 and 1.89.1, discussed at chapters 2.1.3 a and 4.2.1). 71 The location of the battlefield is not entirely clear. Livy relates that it was outside Rome, close to the Arsian grove (2.7.2). Dionysius only states that the Etruscans were encamped in the Naevian Meadow (5.14.1), whereas Plutarch tells that the Romans arrayed their forces in two precincts (the Arsian grove and the Aesuvian meadow, Publ. 9.1).

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sources agree that Brutus died in this circumstance on the battlefield, killed by Arruns. Livy, for instance, reports that on the day of the battle, as the armies drew near, Arruns recognized the consul72 and attacked him to avenge his family’s exile. Brutus charged him in turn, and they both died in the fury of the impact (2.6.7-10). Likewise, Plutarch relates that Brutus and Arruns engaged in single combat, one being moved by hatred of tyranny and the other by anger at the author of his family’s exile, and they fell by each other’s hand (Publ. 9.1-2). While not altering the setting of Brutus’s death, Dionysius gives a different reason for the engagement between the two leaders: “[Arruns] kept uttering insolent words at the Romans’ commander Brutus, calling him names such as wild beast and one stained with his sons’ blood” (λόγους ὑβριστὰς εἰς τὸν ἡγεμόνα τῶν Ῥωμαίων Βροῦτον ἀπερρίπτει, θηρίον ἄγριον ἀποκαλῶν καὶ τέκνων αἵματι μιαρόν, RA 5.15.1). Brutus, unable to bear these insults, accepts Arruns’s challenge and confronts him in single combat; but they slay each other in their violent onset (5.15.2). As mentioned in the previous chapters, Dionysius seems to frequently downplay Etruscan contributions to the early Romans’ development. I discussed, in particular, how the Etruscans are presented as an autochthonous people, this possibly being an implicit indication of their barbarian nature (chap. 3.1 with notes 12-15), how Dionysius rejects the idea that the Romans learned divination by lightning from the Etruscans (chap. 4.2.1 n. 68), and omits the description of Numa’s inauguratio, as I argued, possibly because of the Etruscan origin of the practice (chap. 4.3.1 n. 182). In the present instance, Dionysius hints at the ‘otherness’ of the Etruscans from the Romans by describing Arruns, their leader, as a barbarian through several devices. First, he invests Tarquin’s son with an overbearing temper—also manifest in his abusive language—which was a typical trait of barbarian portraits in Greek literature as the opposite of Greek σωφροσύνη.73 Secondly, Dionysius has Arruns refer to Brutus’s condemnation of his children as an act of bloodshed and a bestial one. Ironically, in Arruns’s words it is Brutus who comes out as a barbarian—θηρίον ἄγριον being hardly a fitting definition for a Roman, let alone a Greek.74 In the previous narrative, however, Dionysius carefully presented Brutus’s severity and condemnation of his children as supreme evidence of his devotion to liberty and to his country, painstakingly constructing a positive image of Brutus’s act, also based on the admiration and reverence with

72 Arruns describes Brutus as a king; Liv. 2.6.7: “Look at him, he goes around superbly adorned with our insignia” (ipse en ille nostris decoratus insignibus magnifice incedit). 73 See Hall 1989: 125-6. 74 On barbarian ἀγριότης see Hall 1989: 126.

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which, he claims, the Romans received it (cf. 5.8.1, above). Brutus’s harsh conduct, then, was not to be regarded as proof of barbarity, but was in fact a demonstration of his virtue. Through Arruns’s negative judgment of it, which underlies—in Dionysius’s intention—his deep misreading of Roman pietas, Dionysius increases the perceived cultural and ethical gap between the Romans and the Etruscans, who are thus to be viewed as alien from Roman mentality. On the other hand, as scholars have often emphasized, Greek authors since the sixth century BC generally show unfavourable opinions of the Etruscans, criticizing, in particular, their effeminacy and uninhibited behaviour (their τρυφή), and such assessments also had negative influence on relevant Roman accounts.75 As I suggest, Dionysius revisits the tradition on Brutus’s death and subtly uses it to emphasize the distance between the Romans and the Etruscans and thus strengthen his previous rejection of a possible parentage between the two groups (cf. discussion at chap. 3.1).76 The second mention of the death of Brutus’s children occurs after the account of Brutus’s death in battle. In his epitaph, Dionysius remarks on his childless condition, adducing as evidence for his lack of descendants the different social status of the later Junii Bruti:

Junius Brutus, then, (...) met such an end, leaving behind no descent, either male or female, as those who have investigated the Romans’ affairs most accurately write, producing much other evidence for this and in particular, something that is above all hard to contradict, the fact that he was of patrician family. In fact, those who claim to descend from that family, both Junii and Bruti, were all plebeians and canvassed for those offices which the law permitted to the plebeians, the aedileship and the tribunate, but none of them canvassed for the consulship, which was open to the patricians only. At length, though, they also obtained this office, when it had been granted to the plebeians to hold it, too.77

It has been observed before that Dionysius twice stresses Brutus’s belonging to the patrician order (RA 4.71.3 and 4.82.5, above; cf. also 5.48.2), so this additional remark does not come entirely as

75 See, in particular, Farney 2007: 133-44 (with previous bibliography), and 2014: 445-6; cf. de Grummond 2014, esp. 412-7; cf. also Levene 1993: 170, on the contrast between Romans and Etruscans in Livy. 76 The epilogue of the battle is significant in this sense: a god’s voice is heard by the two armies declaring that the Etruscans had lost one man more than the Romans had; the former are panic-stricken while the latter take courage and attack them, obtaining a decisive victory (RA 5.16.2-3; cf. Liv. 2.7.2; Plut. Publ. 9.4). About the historical plausibility of the ancient accounts about the last king and the conflict with the Etruscan cities, cf., e.g., Alföldi 1965, esp. 176-82, 186-235, who has supported the idea of an “Etruscan domination” over Rome during the sixth century BC. Cornell (1989: 248-62, and 1995: 151-72), while admitting that the Etruscan cultural influence on Rome in this period cannot be denied, disputes the possibility of an actual Etruscan political control over the city. See also the discussion in Fascione 1993, esp. 63-104; and Delcourt 2005: 309-13, for an overview of the main scholarly positions, 314-54, for Dionysius’s treatment of the Etruscan kings (see pp. 337-54 on Tarquin the Proud). 77 RA 5.18.1-2: Ἰούνιος μὲν δὴ Βροῦτος (...) τοιαύτης τελευτῆς ἔτυχε, γενεὰν οὔτε ἄρρενα καταλιπὼν οὔτε θήλειαν, ὡς οἱ τὰ Ῥωμαίων σαφέστατα ἐξητακότες γράφουσι, τεκμήρια πολλὰ μὲν καὶ ἄλλα τούτου φέροντες, ὑπὲρ ἅπαντα δ᾽ ὃ δυσαντίλεκτόν ἐστιν, ὅτι τοῦ πατρικίων γένους ἐκεῖνος ἦν, οἱ δ᾽ ἀπ᾽ ἐκείνης αὑτοὺς λέγοντες εἶναι τῆς οἰκίας Ἰούνιοί τε καὶ Βροῦτοι πάντες ἦσαν πλήβειοι καὶ τὰς ἀρχὰς μετῄεσαν, ἃς τοῖς δημοτικοῖς μετιέναι νόμος, ἀγορανομίας τε καὶ δημαρχίας, ὑπατείαν δ᾽ οὐδείς, ἧς τοῖς πατρικίοις μετῆν. ὀψὲ δέ ποτε καὶ ταύτης ἔτυχον τῆς ἀρχῆς, ὅτε συνεχωρήθη καὶ τοῖς δημοτικοῖς αὐτὴν λαβεῖν.

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a surprise. However, Dionysius’s insistence on this issue may sound unusual and calls for further comments. It is well-known that during the late phases of civil strife, in the years leading to Caesar’s victory over Pompey and eventually to his own assassination, the figure of L. Brutus had been associated, as ancestor and inspirer, with that of the ‘tyrannicide’ and ‘liberator’ M. Junius Brutus. According to the literary sources, the family of the Junii Bruti despite its plebeian status traced its origins, in agnatic lineage, back to the founder of the Republic. Furthermore, through his mother Servilia M. Brutus could claim descent from another famous tyrannicide, C. Servilius Ahala, who in the mid-fifth century BC seemingly suppressed an attempt of adfectatio regni by the subversive eques Sp. Maelius. Cicero refers to M. Brutus’s anti-tyrannical pedigree in several instances, even stating that the imagines of L. Brutus and Ahala stood in the atrium of M. Brutus’s house, evidently inviting emulation of their deeds (Phil. 2.26; cf. Att. 13.40.1, 2.24.3; Brut. 53; Phil. 1.13, and 3.11, 4.7 on D. Brutus; De Or. 2.225). Also, Cicero’s close friend Atticus apparently drew up, at M. Brutus’s request, the family tree of the Junii (Nep. Att. 18.3).78 As a moneyer, in the early years of his career M. Brutus publicly celebrated his glorious ancestors by reproducing their effigies on two issues (c. 54 BC), a move that made his commitment to Republican liberty and his aversion to autocratic tendencies unmistakable. The first emission consisted of denarii showing on the obverse the head of personified Libertas and, on the reverse, a magistrate identified as L. Brutus walking between lictors (RRC 433/1; fig. 1a). The second series of denarii bore on the obverse the head of L. Brutus and, on the reverse, that of Servilius Ahala (RRC 433/2; fig. 1b). Then, following Caesar’s murder M. Brutus minted aurei in Greece portraying the head of L. Brutus (designated as “first consul”) on the obverse and his own head on the reverse (43-42 BC; RRC 506/1; fig. 2).79 Apparently, in the last year of Caesar’s life, when his behaviour became more conspicuously autocratic, the kinship between the elder Brutus and Marcus became a compelling,

78 On M. Brutus’s ancestry, cf. also Plut. Brut. 1.1, 1.5, Caes. 62.1 (discussed below); Eutrop. 6.25. M. Brutus had a peculiar family history: his father was put to death by Pompey in 77 BC; Brutus, at first hostile to Pompey’s dominance, joined his party in the early forties, but was pardoned by Caesar after Pharsalus; he was adopted by his maternal uncle, acquiring the name of Q. Servilius Caepio Brutus, although he continued to be better known by his birth name; on his mother’s side, he was also related to M. Porcius Cato, who had a decisive influence on Brutus’s political ideas and principles. According to Plutarch, some even believed that Brutus was the natural son of Caesar, born of his juvenile affair with Servilia (Brut. 5.2). On M. Brutus’s background and career, see MacMullen 1966: 1- 17; Clarke 1981: 9-78; Rawson 1986: 101-19; Brunt 1988: 495-502; Gruen 1995, esp. 95-96, 340-1, 353-4; Mackay 2009: 311-3; on M. Brutus’s relationship with Cicero, see Welch 1998: 244-56; Dawes 2008: 266-81. 79 On M. Brutus’s coin issues, see Crawford 1974: 455-6, 517; Mastrocinque 1988: 95 n. 6, 96 n. 11; Evans 1992: 145-8; Mackay 2009: coins 17, 18; Klein 2010: 301-5; Arena 2012: 42-43.

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politically charged motif and acquired increasing popularity. Specifically, it seems that M. Brutus’s supporters and adversaries alike put into circulation pamphlets either prompting Brutus to imitate his ancestor (and thus suppress the ‘tyrant’) or denying such an ancestry altogether. The focus of these campaigns revolved around the statue of L. Brutus that stood on the Capitoline Hill, in a group comprising the seven Roman kings.80 According to the historical tradition, in order to incite M. Brutus to take the lead in the conspiracy, his partisans inscribed provocative words on this statue, reminding Brutus of his progenitor’s example: “For on the statue of his forefather Brutus, who had overthrown the power of the kings, they used to write ‘Would that you were present now, Brutus’; and ‘Would that Brutus were alive’.”81 On the other hand, in order to discredit him, M. Brutus’s opponents rejected the kinship between L. Brutus and Marcus on the grounds that the former had put his sons to death and therefore had no surviving offspring. The twofold use of the motif of M. Brutus’s lineage emerges most clearly from Cassius Dio’s text:

Making full use of his having the same name as the very Brutus who overthrew the Tarquins, [certain men] would set out in public many writings, proclaiming that he was falsely the descendant of that man; for [L. Brutus] put to death both children, the only ones that were born to him, when they were still lads, and he left no descendants at all. Yet the majority pretended that this was not the case, so that [M. Brutus], since he was in fact related to that man by blood, would be persuaded to similar deeds.82

In addition to this argument, Plutarch claims that those who wished to dispute M. Brutus’s descent from the first consul emphasized his plebeian status: “but they say that [his ancestor] was a plebeian, being the son of a Brutus house-steward, and only lately advanced to holding office”

80 Cf. Plut. Brut. 1.1: “Junius Brutus, whom the ancient Romans made to stand as a bronze statue on the Capitoline amongst the kings, holding his sword drawn, since he had overthrown the Tarquins in the most resolute way, was an ancestor of Marcus Brutus” (Μάρκου δὲ Βρούτου πρόγονος ἦν Ἰούνιος Βροῦτος, ὃν ἀνέστησαν ἐν Καπιτωλίῳ χαλκοῦν οἱ πάλαι Ῥωμαῖοι μέσον τῶν βασιλέων, ἐσπασμένον ξίφος, ὡς βεβαιότατα καταλύσαντα Ταρκυνίους); cf. Pliny NH 33.9. On this statuary group, see Evans 1990: 99-105; Gregory 1994: 85-86; Geiger 2008: 126-7. According to Dio 43.45.3-4, the senate had Caesar’s statue set right beside the statue of L. Brutus (Weinstock 1971: 40-53, 145-8; Gradel 2002: 60-61). As for M. Brutus, a bronze statue of him, together with that of Cassius, was dedicated in Athens in 44 BC (Dio 47.20.4; cf. Gregory 1994: 91-92); and another one was erected in Mediolanum (Suet. Rhet. 6; Brunt 1988: 503 n. 1). The statues of the ‘liberators’ were unsurprisingly excluded from the gallery of summi viri in the Forum Augustum (Chaplin 2000: 184; Gowing 2003: 145; Geiger 2008: 158). 81 Plut. Brut. 9.6: τῷ μὲν γὰρ ἀνδριάντι τοῦ προπάτορος Βρούτου τοῦ καταλύσαντος τὴν τῶν βασιλέων ἀρχήν ἐπέγραφον ‘εἴθε νῦν ἦς, Βροῦτε·’ καὶ ‘ὢφελε ζῆν Βροῦτος’; cf. Suet. Caes. 80.3: Subscripsere quidam Luci Bruti statuae: ‘Utinam viveres!’; Dio 44.12.3. Cf. Plut. Brut. 9.7, Caes. 62.7; App. BC 2.113; and Dio 44.12.3 on the appearance of similar graffiti on M. Brutus’s tribunal. Appian, through the dialogue he stages between Brutus and Cassius, insinuates that the authors of these provocative pamphlets were other Roman nobles (and not commoners); see discussion in Lentano 2008: 888-95. 82 Dio 44.12.1-2: [τινὲς] γράμματά τε γάρ, τῇ ὁμωνυμίᾳ αὐτοῦ τῇ πρὸς τὸν πάνυ Βροῦτον τὸν τοὺς Ταρκυνίους καταλύσαντα καταχρώμενοι, πολλὰ ἐξετίθεσαν, φημίζοντες αὐτὸν ψευδῶς ἀπόγονον ἐκείνου εἶναι· ἀμφοτέρους γὰρ τοὺς παῖδας, τοὺς μόνους οἱ γενομένους, μειράκια ἔτι ὄντας ἀπέκτεινε, καὶ οὐδὲ ἔγγονον ὑπελίπετο. οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ τοῦτό τε οἱ πολλοί, ὅπως ὡς καὶ γένει προσήκων αὐτῷ ἐς ὁμοιότροπα ἔργα προαχθείη, ἐπλάττοντο.

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([φασιν] ἀλλὰ δημότην τοῦτον, οἰκονόμου υἱὸν ὄντα Βρούτου, ἄρτι καὶ πρῴην εἰς ἄρχοντα προελθεῖν, Brut. 1.6). 83 Dionysius deliberately included in his narrative the tradition averse to M. Brutus, since, as considered above, he repeatedly asserts the patrician status of L. Brutus (RA 4.71.3, 4.82.5, 5.18.1, 5.48.2) and here he contrasts it with the plebeian status of those who claimed to be descended from him. Furthermore, he vigorously remarks on the reliability of his sources on the subject (cf. 5.18.1, above: ὡς οἱ τὰ Ῥωμαίων σαφέστατα ἐξητακότες γράφουσι), who apparently brought as evidence for the lack of relation between the two families the fact that none of the later Junii Bruti had obtained the consulship before this office was lawfully opened to the plebeians (that is, at the time of the leges Liciniae Sextiae in 367 BC).84 Dionysius, who could have learned about this controversial matter from either a late Republican source (such as Aelius Tubero)85 or his own experience in Rome, had every reason to promote the version hostile to M. Brutus in his history. While certain authors were likely influenced by the figure of M. Brutus and his assassination of Caesar to colour their own accounts of the founding of the Republic, Dionysius carefully refrains from drawing such connections, presenting in fact the momentous constitutional change as a pacific and subtle operation of camouflage of monarchical power and also vehemently denying the relation between L. Brutus and Marcus. In this way, he could dissociate the legendary hero from the recent political issues linked to Caesar’s death and its aftermath and present him in his gallery of idealized examples of civic virtue devoid of ambiguous associations.

83 Posidonius (cited in Plut. Brut. 1.7), to reconcile the two traditions, wrote that L. Brutus had a third son, who was left alive in consideration of his young age and was the progenitor of the present Junii Bruti. 84 This argument may not be as solid as Dionysius tries to present it. Cornell (1995: 252-6), observing that the fasti consulares record, for the earliest decades of the Republic, consuls of uncertain status (that is, with plebeian family names), suggests a few viable hypotheses to explain this phenomenon and to solve the apparent ambiguity. Since virtually all the consuls until the leges Liciniae Sextiae were patricians, Cornell argues that the presence in the fasti of family names historically attested as plebeians could 1) result from later interpolations by members or supporters of such families; 2) indicate an originally patrician family, a member of which at some point did the transitio ad plebem; 3) again, indicate an originally patrician family, a freedman of which started a separate (plebeian) family branch. The first Junius to be listed in the fasti is C. Junius Bubulcus Brutus (cos. I 317 BC). 85 Richardson, in particular, argues that Dionysius’s main source was an adherent of Julius Caesar and someone well versed in legal and constitutional matters, Q. Aelius Tubero appearing the most probable choice (2011: 157-160). See also Cornell 2013: 363-4, who supports the identification of the Aelius Tubero often cited by Dionysus (e.g., RA 1.7.3, 1.80.1-3 = F3 Peter) with Quintus. On Dionysius’s passage, cf. also Raimondi 1997: 106 with n. 23.

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5.2 M. Furius Camillus

5.2.1 Camillus in Late Republican and Early Imperial Political Discourse

Like Romulus, the figure of M. Furius Camillus became “a powerful political paradigm”86 in the late Republican period, influencing the self-fashioning of statesmen such as Marius, Sulla, Pompey, Cicero, Caesar and, notably, Augustus. The qualities most commonly ascribed to Camillus, such as his profound pietas, his justice, and his role as ‘second founder’ of Rome after the Gallic sack (cf. Liv. 5.49.7, conditorque alter urbis), together with his valour as a general and charisma as a leader, made him a desirable example to appropriate for the ambitious politicians competing for supremacy in the last century BC.87 Cicero, for instance, implicitly equated himself with Camillus on several occasions, as he felt that they had both been victims of the people’s ingratitude and had been unjustly exiled in spite of their devotion to the res publica (cf., e.g., Cic. Rep. 1.5-6, Dom. 85-86, Tusc. 1.90, De Or. 3.13, Sest. 143).88 Caesar, in turn, just like Camillus, was credited with saving Italy from the Gallic threat and was acclaimed as saviour and parens patriae.89 Augustus, placing himself within the tradition of the ‘founders’ of the city, could lay a greater claim to his personal association with Camillus than any of his predecessors. Such an association was grounded on various aspects of Augustus’s policy and public image. First of all, just like Camillus and other Republican statesmen, Augustus also received the title of pater patriae, although in Augustus’s case this title assumed an official character, being publicly bestowed on him by the senate and inscribed on monuments (cf. RG 35.1).90 Next, Camillus constituted a remarkable precedent for Augustus’s pietas, because he had been widely celebrated in the Roman tradition on account of his religious devotion and attachment to the

86 Gaertner 2008: 29. The comparison between Camillus and Romulus is openly advanced by Livy, who states that Camillus “was called Romulus and father of the country and second founder of the city” (Romulus ac parens patriae conditorque alter urbis...appellabatur, 5.49.7), and that “he was considered worthy of being held as second founder of the Roman city after Romulus” (dignusque habitus quem secundum a Romulo conditorem urbis Romanae ferrent, 7.1.10). Cf. Plut. Cam. 1.1: “having being styled second founder of the city” (κτίστης δὲ τῆς Ῥώμης ἀναγραφεὶς δεύτερος); also, Eutrop. 1.20.3; Iulian. Caes. 323a. On the association between the two characters see, in particular, Miles 1995: 126-34; Stevenson 2000: 33-42; Ungern-Sternberg 2001: 289-97; Möller 2014: 36-41. 87 Cf. Weinstock 1971: 177-9; Gaertner 2008: 35-39. 88 On Camillus’s portrait in Cicero, see Coudry 2001: 56-59, and Gaertner 2008: 45-48. 89 Cf. Weinstock 1971: 163-7, 177-9, 200-5; on the use of the epithet pater patriae cf. chap. 4.1.1. Gaertner (2008: 49-51), commenting on Pompey’s speech in Lucan (2.531-95, cf. also 5.27-34), suggests that in this poem Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon is likened to the Gallic invasion of the fourth century BC, with Caesar being indirectly associated with the Gallic general Brennus and Pompey with Camillus. 90 Cf. Ramage 1987: 104-10; Cooley 2009: 274-5; see discussion and further references at chap. 4.1.1.

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Roman religious tradition. This feature was enclosed in his own cognomen, since the name Camillus was connected with the performance of religious duties.91 Camillus’s pietas is most famously illustrated in the speech that Livy has him give at the end of his first pentad (5.51-54). The well-known circumstance for it is the discussion about the possibility of transferring the population of Rome, which had been devastated by the Gauls, to the site of Veii and making the latter the new Roman capital. The proposal is advanced twice by the tribunes of the plebs (Liv. 5.24.4-11, 5.49.8-9, 5.50.8); T. Sicinius, in particular, tries to win popular favour by presenting himself as a new founder, being mockingly contrasted by Livy with Romulus (ut conditorem Ueios sequantur, relicto deo Romulo, 5.24.11). Argued in front of the senate, the proposal causes a heated dispute between the tribunes and the senators, who are opposed to it. Eventually, Camillus persuades his fellow citizens to withstand the Gauls and not to abandon their ancestral seats. His main argument for staying in the city concerns the religious significance of the site of Rome, as the observance of religious rites and the preservation of religious objects in the places traditionally allotted to them were thought to be vital for Rome’s survival and future success.92 Catharine Edwards has emphasized the connection between Camillus’s speech in Livy and certain anxieties current in the late Republic. Specifically, Edwards associates the proposal of moving the capital to Veii with the rumors, attested by some sources, that Caesar intended to designate Alexandria or Troy as the new capital of the Empire (Nic. Dam. Caes. 20; Suet. Caes. 79.3), a move that was attributed again a few years later to Antony as well (Dio 50.4.1). Edwards contrasts Caesar’s and Antony’s alleged behaviour with Augustus’s attachment to Rome’s site, which he demonstrated through his grandiose building program and his revitalization of old religious practices, arguing for an implicit reference to Augustus’s policy in Livy’s text: “For Livy’s earliest readers, it would have been difficult not to see his celebration of Camillus’s commitment to the physical site of Rome as a positive response to Octavian’s well-publicised commitment to the city.”93 Gary Miles as well suggests a parallel between Livy’s Camillus and

91 A camillus was a youthful attendant in public religious ceremonies (cf. Varr. LL 7.34; RA 2.22.2; Fest. 82 L; Ogilvie 1965: 626, 631; Palmer 1970: 98-99; Bruun 2000: 47-51, 65-66; Corbier 2002: 399). On the Augustan phase of the Camillus legend see, in particular, Coudry 2001: 59-65. 92 Among the scholarly treatments of Camillus’s speech, see Ogilvie 1965: 741-50; Kraus 1994: 278-82; Miles 1995: 88-91, 94-97; Edwards 1996: 45-47; Jaeger 1997: 89-92; Stevenson 2000: 29-33; Chaplin 2005: 86-89; Gaertner 2008: 39-42 (on the comparison between Livy’s and Plutarch’s account of the same debate, Plut. Cam. 31- 32), and 42-45 (on the parallel between Livy’s text and excerpts from Cicero, Fam. 2.11.1, 2.12.2, 2.13.3, Red. Pop. 4, Rep. 2.5, 2.10, 2.11); cf. also Price 1996: 812; Beard, North, and Price 1998: 167-8; Orlin 2007: 79-80, 86. The Gallic sack of the city and Camillus’s speech was also narrated in Ennius’s Annales 4 (cf. Feeney 2007: 100-2). 93 Edwards 1996: 48.

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Augustus based on their common identification as conditores (Liv. 5.49.7, 4.20.7), with particular reference to their restoration of Roman religious identity.94 Augustus, as previously mentioned, undertook massive works of construction and renovation throughout the city, paying particular attention to Rome’s sacred buildings.95 Unsurprisingly, the first temples to be restored were those connected with the most ancient Roman cults (such as that of Jupiter Feretrius, of Victoria, and of Saturn), a fact which stresses Augustus’s ostensible interest in Roman history and tradition.96 A further analogy between Augustus and Camillus may be advanced on the basis of Philip Hardie’s reading of a passage of the Aeneid. Hardie notes a correlation between the episode of the Roman resistance to the Gauls on the Capitol and the battle of Actium.97 The two episodes, which Virgil associates in his description of Aeneas’s shield (Aen. 8.652-63, 671-713), are analyzed by Hardie in terms of “Gigantomachic allegory” and, just like the cosmogonic myth, are said to represent the triumph of order over the forces of evil as well as the prefiguration of the ensuing Roman expansion. “The repulse of the Gauls and the defeat of Antony and Cleopatra are also linked in that both are preludes to acts of refoundation: Camillus and Augustus both claimed to be second ‘founders’ of Rome, repeating the work of Romulus.”98 Another interesting feature emerging from Virgil’s text, as pointed out by Horsfall, is the depiction of Camillus—again in the ‘gallery of heroes’—as referentem signa (Aen. 6.825). Camillus traditionally rescued the gold of the ransom from the Gauls, who had taken the city, and brought it back to Rome after defeating them (cf. Diod. 14.117.5; Liv. 5.50.6-7; Serv. Aen. 6.825, aurum omne recepit et signa); the gold is entirely replaced by Virgil with standards. This detail, as Horsfall underscores, is only mentioned in contemporary poetry (cf. Prop. 3.11.67) and may constitute “a reminiscence of the contemporary preoccupation with the recovery of Crassus’s standards from the Parthians.”99

94 Miles 1988, esp. 195-6, 199-200, and 1995: 88-98; cf. 1995: 91-94 on the parallel between the couples Augustus / Camillus and Antony / Sicinius (that is, between true and false ‘founders’). See also Mineo 2015: 130: “Livy’s portrait of Camillus, presented as being the new founder (conditor), the guarantor of the development of Roman power (auctor), and the savior of the fatherland (pater patriae) reminded his reader (…) of the qualities recognized in the princeps, either officially or on a more poetic level.” 95 See chaps. 1.2 with n. 63 for references and 4.1.2; cf. Liv. 4.20.7, where Augustus is called templorum omnium conditorem ac restitutorem; RG 19-21 on Augustus’s building program (with Cooley 2009: 182-99). 96 As noted by Gros 1976: 26; cf. Edwards 1996: 49, and 52: “According to Augustus, Antony, his rival, had proposed leaving Rome and making another city the empire’s capital. Augustus chose to identify himself with Rome, affirming his commitment to the city through an unparalleled programme of building work.” 97 Hardie 1986: 124-5, 351-2. 98 Hardie 1986: 351 n. 51. 99 Horsfall 1981: 146, cf. 2013: 563; cf. Clausen 2002: 135-9; La Penna 2003: 235-7.

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Another connection between Camillus and Augustus concerns the cult of Concordia. In 44 BC, the senate voted a temple to Concordia Nova in honour of Caesar and established annual festivals to the goddess on the grounds that, thanks to Caesar, the Romans now enjoyed peace (Dio 44.4.5).100 As scholars have frequently emphasized, the renovation of the cult of Concordia, together with the erection or restoration of her shrine, generally marked the end of a period of civil unrest—or the violent suppression of dissent.101 The first temple of Concordia was supposedly dedicated by Camillus in 367 BC to celebrate the concordia ordinum achieved with the admission of the plebeians to the consulship through the leges Liciniae Sextiae (cf. Ov. Fast. 1.641-4, and Plut. Cam. 42.3-4).102 A shrine (aedicula) to Concordia was later built on the Vulcanal by initiative of the aedile curule Cn. Flavius in 304 BC (Liv. 9.46.6; Pliny NH 33.19).103 Another temple was vowed by the praetor L. Manlius after his suppression of a mutiny of troops in Gaul and was dedicated on the arx after the defeat of Cannae (Liv. 22.33.7, 23.21.7). Then, in 121 BC, after the violent death of C. Gracchus, L. Opimius restored the temple of Concordia—apparently the one originally erected by Camillus (cf. Cic. Sest. 140; Plut. C. Gracch. 17.6; App. BC 1.26; August. Civ. Dei 3.25). Under Augustus, the restoration of this same temple was entrusted to Ti. Nero (the future emperor Tiberius), who, using the spoils from his campaign in Germany, vowed the temple in 7 BC and finally dedicated it in 10 AD (Dio 55.8.2, 55.9.6).104

100 See Weinstock 1971: 206-6, 261-2. Weinstock observes that the theme of Concordia was particularly recurrent during the years of Caesar’s rise to power, as numerous coin issues seems to attest: the head of Concordia appears on two series of denarii minted by L. Aemilius Lepidus Paullus (62 BC; RRC 415/1, 417/1a; Crawford 1974: 441-2); in 55 BC on two series of denarii by P. Fonteius Capito (RRC 429/2a, 2b; Crawford 1974: 453); and, again, in 52 BC on a denarius of L. Vinicius (RRC 436; Crawford 1974: 457). Then, after Caesar’s death, Concordia is portrayed on denarii minted by L. Livineus Regulus (42 BC; RRC 494/41, 42a, 42b, 42c; Crawford 1974: 508-9), and successively by Octavian and Antony after their reconciliation at Brundisium (39 BC; RRC 529/4a, 4b; Crawford 1974: 532-3). 101 Cf., e.g., Momigliano 1942: 111-20; Levick 1978: 217-33; Curti 2000: 77-91. By the Late Republic, concordia had become a markedly optimate slogan (I thank Adam Kemezis for pointing this out). 102 On Ovid’s treatment of Camillus in the Fasti, with specific reference to his foundation of the aedes Concordiae, see Farrell 2013: 57-88. On Plutarch’s account, see Coudry 2001: 69-72; Duff 2010, esp. 64-65. Neither Momigliano (1942: 111-20) nor Levick (1978, esp. 219-21) support the idea that Camillus first erected a temple to Concordia in the mid-fourth century BC and both deem this episode entirely legendary. 103 According to Livy, this act caused much contempt among the nobiles (summa invidia nobilium). The dedication of a temple by anyone except a consul or a commander in chief was contrary to custom, and as a consequence the senate had to vote a law prohibiting dedications of temples or altars without authorization of the senate or the tribunes of the plebs (Liv. 9.46.6-7). Pliny specifies that Flavius made a vow to consecrate the temple if he should succeed in reconciling the nobility with the plebeians, but eventually he only built a small shrine for lack of funding (NH 33.19). 104 The temple was renamed aedes Concordiae Augustae, see references at n. 105, below. Cf. Gros 1976: 28, 32; on the architectural features of the temple, see Packer 2010: 161-7.

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As scholars have noted, the meaning of concordia conceivably evolved during the later years of Augustus’s Principate, shifting from indicating the reestablishment of social concord to signalling the peaceful unity of the empire under Augustus’s rule, as well as the harmony within the imperial family. The new ideas underlying the notion of concord are attested by the renaming of the temple with the addition of the epithet Augusta and by the transfer of its dies natalis from July 22 (the day of Camillus’s dedication) to the anniversary of Octavian’s assumption of his honorific name Augustus (January 16).105 In spite of its changed meaning, the cult of Concordia provided a further link between Camillus, its founder, and Augustus, his restorer. Lastly, Camillus’s statue featured in the Forum Augustum, among the statues of those Romans, whom Augustus intended as “models of good leadership”106 as well as examples of martial prowess, and who thus supplied precedents for Augustus’s political and military power—though reminding, at the same time, how Augustus had surpassed all of them.107

5.2.2 Camillus’s Capture of Veii

The first famous episode recorded by the literary sources involving the figure of Camillus is the Roman capture of Veii in 396 BC. It will be useful to outline the circumstances of the long conflict that occupied possibly the two foremost powers in central Italy at the time, in order to understand the significance of Camillus’s deeds in Roman imagery. In the final years of the fifth century BC, Rome engaged in the third and decisive conflict with the flourishing Etruscan city-state of Veii. This town was situated about fifteen kilometers north of Rome, with their respective territories having a common border along the right bank of the Tiber.108 As briefly mentioned in the previous chapter, according to the ancient sources Rome allegedly fought a war against Veii for the control of Fidenae in the reign of Romulus, who afterwards stipulated a one-hundred-year truce with the Veientines (see chap. 4.2.3; cf. Liv. 1.15.1-5; RA 2.54.3-55; Plut. Rom. 25). Apart from this legendary episode, it seems that the first actual conflict against Veii occurred in the first quarter of

105 See Levick 1978: 224-6; Edwards 1996: 22; Orlin 2007: 87-89, 2016: 122-4; Farrell 2013: 66-68. 106 Chaplin 2000: 176. 107 Cf. Gruen 1985: 56, 61; see the previous observations on the Forum Augustum at chapters 1.3 and 3.2.4. The elogium of Camillus in the Forum Augustum is published in Degrassi 1937, no. 61; cf. Sage 1979: 201 (who compares it with vir. ill. 23); Luce 1990: 131, who notes some disagreements between the Augustan elogium and Livy’s account, such as the order in which Camillus’s victories during his third dictatorship are reported (Liv. 6.2.7- 6.4.3), and the details about Camillus’s victory at Velitrae (6.36.1-6; cf. Plut. Cam. 41.6-42.1). 108 Cf. Cornell 1995: 309-10; Bourdin 2000: 222-3.

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the fifth century BC and ended in favour of the Etruscan city, after the Roman gens of the Fabii, which was privately leading the war, was almost entirely exterminated at Cremera in 479 BC (cf. Liv. 2.48-50; RA 9.15-22).109 A second conflict broke out in 437 BC, again over the control of Fidenae, and concluded this time with the Roman victory, crowned by the splendid deed of A. Cornelius Cossus, who slew the Veientine king Lars Tolumnius in single combat and dedicated the spolia opima to Jupiter Feretrius (for the latter episode see, in particular, Liv. 4.17-20; cf. discussion in chap. 4.2.3). The third war against Veii seemingly resulted in the capture of the city itself, which capitulated, after a ten-year siege, thanks to the military leadership of the dictator M. Furius Camillus (c. 405-396 BC, Varronian chronology). Veii and its territory were consequently incorporated into the ager Romanus. As scholars have noted, while some elements of this last conflict (such as its timeframe and its outcome) are historical and indeed seem to be confirmed by the archaeological record, others (such as the accounts of prodigies and individual feats) are largely fictional, being shaped on the model of the Trojan War and “pervaded by an atmosphere of mysticism and religiosity,” to quote Cornell’s description.110 This aspect is especially evident in Livy’s version of the war with its sequence of supernatural events: the end of Veii appears as a consequence of a religious offence committed by its king (5.1.4-5) and Camillus is portrayed as an instrument of fate (fatalis dux, 5.19.2).111 Dionysius’s extant account of the capture of Veii (RA 12.10-16), just like his account of the Gallic invasion (13.5-12, below), is in a highly fragmentary state, which makes it difficult to give a proper analysis of his presentation of Camillus. Nevertheless, a close reading of such fragments may enable us to make some inferences about Dionysius’s own elaboration of this important figure as well as how Camillus’s story could enhance his overall presentation of the early Roman Republic. I will consider here: a) the reports about the prodigy of the Alban Lake with the resulting Veientine embassy, and Camillus’s reflection and prayer after Veii’s capture; b)

109 See Ogilvie 1965: 359-66 with further references; and Cornell 1989: 297, 1995: 311, on the fabulous details of the Fabii’s story. 110 Cornell 1995: 312. 111 On this conflict and the role of Camillus in it, cf. Cornell 1989: 294-300, 1995: 311-3; also, Alföldi 1965: 231-4, 337-46; Ogilvie 1965: 626-30, 669-71; Kraus 1994, esp. 271-5. It has been conjectured that, of the extant sources, the accounts of Polybius (for the Gallic attack) and Diodorus Siculus preserve an older layer of the tradition about Camillus, whereas the stories transmitted by Livy, Dionysius, and Plutarch were likely influenced by the extensive refashioning of the legend occurred between the third and the first centuries BC after actual historical events (cf. Momigliano 1942: 112-4; Gaertner 2008: 29-32).

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his removal of Juno’s image from Veii; and c) his condemnation of the Faliscan schoolmaster. The first two episodes (subsection a) are thematically connected and together foreshadow Rome’s subsequent capture by the Gauls. Through them, Dionysius confers a distinctive Greek colouring to his narrative—recalling, in particular, the Herodotean notion of the mutability of human prosperity—and introduces Camillus as a wise and devout character. As I will show, Camillus’s personal qualities (especially his pietas and his sense of justice) and the ways in which he benefits the Roman community are also the main objects of the other two episodes in question (subsections b and c), placing Camillus in line with the other figures of ‘founders’. a) The Veientine Embassy and Camillus’s Prayer The story of the siege of Veii starts in medias res with a long fragment about the occurrence of a portent and its interpretation, which I briefly summarize as follows. The Alban Lake is said to have flooded anomalously during the warmest days of summer, and as a consequence the Romans sent envoys to consult the Delphic oracle. In the meantime, a local soothsayer revealed the meaning of the portent, which was eventually confirmed by the oracular response, to a centurion and later to the senate. As it turned out, the portent signified that the gods guarding Veii would abandon the city and let it be conquered by the Romans when the latter would divert the waters of the lake from their natural course by means of channels (RA 12.10-11; cf. Liv. 5.15, 16.8-11; Plut. Cam. 3-4). The Romans therefore set to work following the instructions of the soothsayer and the oracle. Dionysius adds an unparalleled detail to the story, relating that, upon hearing about this event, the inhabitants of Veii sent an embassy to Rome offering the voluntary submission of the city and asking the senate to make a peace treaty (12.13.1). When the senators refuse to grant this and thereby spare Veii from complete destruction, one of the Veientine envoys, foreseeing that Rome would suffer destruction as well on account of its haughtiness, bitterly comments:

A noble and magnanimous decree you have passed, o Romans, thinking that you have leadership over your neighbours because of your valour, not considering it right to hold in subjugation a city neither small nor insignificant that has laid aside its arms and submitted [to you], but you wish to destroy it root and branch, not fearing wrath from the gods, nor taking heed of retribution from men; in return for which avenging justice will come from the gods inflicting [on you] a similar punishment. For having deprived the Veientes of their country after a not long period of time you will lose your own.112

112 RA 12.13.2-3: καλόν, ἔφησεν, ὦ Ῥωμαῖοι, δόγμα ἐξενηνόχατε καὶ μεγαλοπρεπές, οἱ τὴν ἡγεμονίαν ἀξιοῦντες ἔχειν τῶν περιοίκων δι᾽ ἀρετήν, πόλιν οὔτε μικρὰν οὔτε ἄσημον ἀποτιθεμένην τὰ ὅπλα καὶ παραδιδοῦσαν ὑμῖν ἑαυτὴν οὐκ ἀξιοῦντες ὑπήκοον ἔχειν, ἀλλὰ πρόρριζον ἀνελεῖν βουλόμενοι, οὔτε τὸν ἐκ τοῦ θείου δείσαντες χόλον, οὔτε τὴν παρ᾽ ἀνθρώπων ἐντραπέντες νέμεσιν. ἀνθ᾽ ὧν ὑμῖν δίκη τιμωρὸς ἥξει παρὰ θεῶν εἰς τὰ ὅμοια ζημιοῦσα· Οὐιεντανοὺς γὰρ ἀφελόμενοι τὴν πατρίδα μετ᾽ οὐ πολὺ τὴν ἑαυτῶν ἀποβαλεῖτε.

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This gloomy prophecy anticipates the coming retribution for the Romans’ success, a theme that is developed in the subsequent reflection that Dionysius ascribes to Camillus. His character is introduced to the narrative in simple terms, as “the dictator, under whose command the city was taken” (ὁ δὲ δικτάτωρ Κάμιλλος, οὗ στρατηγίᾳ ἡ πόλις ἥλω, 12.14.1). Dionysius depicts him as being absorbed in contemplating Veii, which in the meantime is being raided by the Roman troops. Standing on an elevated spot together with other Roman officials, Camillus “at first congratulated himself for the present success” (πρῶτον μὲν ἐμακάρισεν ἑαυτὸν τῆς παρούσης εὐτυχίας), that is, for having destroyed such a wealthy city (“[a city] which was not the smallest part of Tyrrhenia, which at that time was flourishing and was the most powerful of the nations inhabiting Italy”).113 Then, reflecting upon the turns of fate, Camillus prays to the gods to the effect that they spare Rome or himself from retribution for the capture of Veii:

Thereupon, pondering that humans’ prosperity depends on a small turn of the scale, and that no blessing remains fixed, having stretched his hands to the sky he prayed to Jupiter and the other gods, that above all the present success may be least invidious for both himself and his country; but if some calamity was going to befall the city of the Romans publicly or his own life as a counterbalance for the present blessings, that it might be the smallest and most tolerable.114

Right after the report of Camillus’s prayer, Dionysius inserts a second reference to the wealth of Veii (12.15), where he dwells on the fertility and healthy atmosphere of its territory, specifying that “the city of the Veientines was not at all inferior to Rome” (ἦν δὲ ἡ Οὐιεντανῶν πόλις οὐθὲν ὑποδεεστέρα τῆς Ῥώμης, ibid). Gowing argues that Camillus’s remark on the prominence of Etruria is intended to embellish his presentation and make him appear more agreeable to a Greek audience: “it rather looks as though Dionysius has configured this episode to mesh with his larger aim of mitigating the negative Greek view of arrogant Romans (Camillus being aware of the importance of the region he has conquered yet duly humbled by the experience).”115 While partly agreeing with this observation, I suggest that Camillus’s reflection

113 RA 12.14.1: ἣ Τυρρηνίας μὲν ἀνθούσης τότε καὶ πλεῖστον τῶν κατοικούντων τὴν Ἰταλίαν ἐθνῶν δυναμένης οὐκ ἐλαχίστη μοῖρα ἦν. On the magnificence of the site of Veii, cf. Liv. 5.22.8, 5.24.5-6. Livy states that Veii was actually wealthier than Rome and possessed a better territory (uberior ampliorque Romano agro, 5.24.5). The context of his observation is however quite different, for the latter is included in the discussion of the proposal of moving part of the Roman population to Veii. 114 RA 12.14.2: ἔπειτ᾽ ἐνθυμηθείς, ὡς ἐπὶ μικρᾶς αἰωρεῖται ῥοπῆς ἡ τῶν ἀνθρώπων εὐδαιμονία, καὶ βέβαιον οὐδὲν διαμένει τῶν ἀγαθῶν, διατείνας εἰς οὐρανὸν τὰς χεῖρας εὔξατο τῷ τε Διὶ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις θεοῖς, μάλιστα μὲν ἀνεπίφθονον ἑαυτῷ τε καὶ τῇ πατρίδι γίνεσθαι τὴν παροῦσαν εὐδαιμονίαν· εἰ δέ τις ἔμελλε κοινῇ συμφορὰ τὴν Ῥωμαίων πόλιν ἢ τὸν αὐτοῦ βίον καταλαμβάνειν ἀντίπαλος τῶν παρόντων ἀγαθῶν, ἐλαχίστην γενέσθαι ταύτην καὶ μετριωτάτην. 115 Gowing 2009: 337-8; cf. also Martin 2000: 150-1.

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about the region’s wealth, as well as the subsequent note about Veii’s rich territory, has the purpose of complementing the narrative leading to Rome’s capture and defeat by the Gauls. This narrative is carefully constructed by Dionysius as a climax, through the report of the Veientine envoy’s utterance (which portends retribution for the Romans), Camillus’s reflections about the changing fortunes of mortals (which suggest that Rome’s fortune is bound to change as well), and the misreading of his own fall (related below), which is the inauspicious sign that some great misfortune is about to befall both Camillus and his country. The remarks on Veii’s wealth add to the idea of inexorability of fate, as this inflicts disaster even on very prosperous cities. The Veientine envoy’s utterance and Camillus’s prayer focus on the notion of the mutability of fortune and—linked to this—of success as a possible source of calamity. As mentioned above, the envoy’s speech (12.13.2) centers on the idea that a city that was previously wealthy and powerful (that is, Veii) was now about to suffer conquest and destruction at the hands of another; but then Rome, in turn, would eventually suffer the same fate. The wording of this thought loosely recalls one of the programmatic statements that Herodotus prefaces to his history: “For many of the cities that in ancient times were great have become small, while those that were great in my time were formerly small. Being aware that human prosperity never stays in the same place, I will make mention of both alike.”116 A comparable sense of precariousness about the human condition also emerges from Camillus’s meditation, which furthers the idea of instability and ever-changing turn of fortune (cf. 12.14.2: ὡς ἐπὶ μικρᾶς αἰωρεῖται ῥοπῆς ἡ τῶν ἀνθρώπων εὐδαιμονία, cited above). Dionysius intensifies this sentiment by emphasizing that Veii was known to be a flourishing city, a comment that—in addition—could make its fall appear even more sensational to Dionysius’s readers and Camillus’s fear of the gods’ wrath amply justified. The other connected ‘Herodotean’ theme—the idea that wealth and prosperity may attract the gods’ envy and lead to disaster—surfaces from both the Veientine ambassador’s reproach to the Romans for their refusal to grant peace and Camillus’s explicit mention of the gods’ jealousy (cf. ἀνεπίφθονος, RA 12.14.2) as a source of retribution. In these two instances, too, Dionysius’s formulation is reminiscent of the Herodotean concept that “the divine is entirely envious and is able to cause disturbance” when it comes to human affairs (τὸ θεῖον πᾶν ἐὸν φθονερόν τε καὶ

116 Hdt. 1.5.4: τὰ γὰρ [ἄστεα] τὸ πάλαι μεγάλα ἦν, τὰ πολλὰ σμικρὰ αὐτῶν γέγονε· τὰ δὲ ἐπ᾽ ἐμεῦ ἦν μεγάλα, πρότερον ἦν σμικρά. τὴν ἀνθρωπηίην ὤν ἐπιστάμενος εὐδαιμονίην οὐδαμὰ ἐν τὠυτῷ μένουσαν, ἐπιμνήσομαι ἀμφοτέρων ὁμοίως. Cf. the almost identical reflection advanced by Thucydides at 1.10.

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ταραχῶδες, Hdt. 1.32.1), which is best elucidated in the well-known encounter between Solon and Croesus (Hdt. 1.29-33) and is subsequently repeated by other Herodotean characters—such as Amasis (cf. 3.40.2, τὸ θεῖον ἐπισταμένῳ ὡς ἔστι φθονερόν), and Artabanus (7.10e, ὁ θεὸς φθονήσας, and 7.46.4, ὁ δὲ θεὸς ... φθονερός).117 Through recognizable references to well-known Herodotean themes, Dionysius confers on these episodes a uniquely Greek moralizing tone,118 which might be appealing to his intended audience, and especially to those readers who were educated in Greek letters (on Dionysius’s readership, cf. chap. 2.1.3 c). Furthermore, through these allusions Dionysius stresses the aspect of inevitability of Veii’s (and most importantly, of Rome’s) fall, and removes from it any direct human involvement, by assigning its causes instead to the capriciousness of fortune and the unstable nature of human condition. This aspect is even more evident if we compare Dionysius’s account with that given by Livy. In Livy’s version, Camillus prays to the gods expressing himself through words very similar to Dionysius’s, but his prayer is motivated by purely pragmatic preoccupations at the sight of the enormous booty (5.21.14-15). Indeed, the scene is preceded here by a discussion in the senate concerning the booty’s distribution, which dwells on the difficulties of managing such a massive fortune without angering the soldiers, the senators, or the plebs (5.20). In Livy’s version, then, the central motives are chiefly human-related.119 The story of the Veientine embassy is not the only detail unique to Dionysius’s version. As Dionysius relates, after his prayer Camillus veils his head and turns his back following a practice devised by Aeneas, but in doing so he stumbles and falls to the ground. The fall is said to signal forthcoming disaster, but Camillus—quite naively—interprets it as if the gods had listened to his prayer and bestowed a slight misfortune on him (RA 12.16).120 None of the extant sources connects Camillus’s fall after his prayer with the aetiological tale of Aeneas’s first sacrifice in Latium. As mentioned in Chapter Three, Aeneas was thought to have established a new ritual as he veiled his head while sacrificing on the beach after his arrival in Latium in order not to be recognized by the

117 On this episode cf., e.g., Chiasson 1986: 249-62; Shapiro 1996, esp. 353-5. 118 On moralizing in Greek historiography, see Hau 2016 (pp. 172-93 specifically on Herodotus). 119 This presentation is compatible with Livy’s constant preoccupation with vice and the corruption of morals, and it was likely meant to provide a motive for Camillus’s later prosecution (as already argued by Ogilvie 1965: 673, 677), but it would have hardly benefited Dionysius’s overall description of the early Roman society as ruled by virtuous men. On Livy’s treatment of auaritia and luxuria cf. Miles 1995: 98-100, 103-5. 120 Camillus’s fall is related by other sources as well; Plutarch reports it in very similar terms as Dionysius (Cam. 5.7); whereas Livy (5.21.16) and Valerius Maximus (1.5.2) omit the detail about Camillus’s own reading of the omen. Cf. Engels 2012: 169 about the interpretative differences between Dionysius’s and Livy’s accounts of it.

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crew of an approaching Greek fleet; and since the omens had a favourable outcome, that peculiar mode of sacrifice was retained by posterity.121 This episode is curiously absent from Dionysius’s account of Aeneas’s life in Book One and its insertion at this point of the narrative has been convincingly explained by scholars as a means of emphasizing Camillus’s pietas.122 Aeneas’s εὐσέβεια was a celebrated quality of the hero in the Greek tradition (cf. chap. 3.2.1); by linking the Roman general with a well-known figure from Greek literature, Dionysius provided an easily identifiable precedent and a suitable term of comparison for his Greek readers—who were evidently not familiar with the legend of Camillus. b) The Removal of the Statue of Juno Regina Not much more is preserved about the events surrounding the conquest of Veii in Dionysius’s extant fragments. In a short section, Dionysius relates that Camillus makes a vow to Veii’s patron goddess, ἡ βασίλεια Ἥρα, and promises to set up her statue in Rome and establish honours for her in exchange for Veii’s capture. Accordingly, following the conquest of the Etruscan city, Camillus sends selected men for the removal of the goddess’s image. When one of the men humorously addresses the statue to ask if she was willing to move to Rome, the statue miraculously states her affirmative reply, this happening twice (13.3). In contrast to this brief notice, the corresponding account in Livy gives great prominence to the episode.123 In Livy’s version, Camillus utters, in direct speech, the solemn vow that in case of victory Juno would receive a temple in Rome, not merely rites; and then, as in Dionysius, he tells the story of the extraordinary removal of Juno’s statue from her Etruscan shrine (Liv. 5.21.3). To this Livy adds that the statue was carried to the Aventine—which he describes in lofty terms as aeternam sedem suam—where Camillus’s vows had called her (quo vota Romani dictatoris vocaverant), and where afterwards Camillus erected her temple (5.22.4‑7).124 Judging from their different treatments, Dionysius and Livy conceivably ascribed rather different meanings to this episode: in Dionysius, the story focuses on the prodigy of the talking statue and appears as a further

121 See chap. 3.3.3 a with n. 141 for references. 122 Cf. Corbier 2002: 400 (followed by Gowing 2008: 338): “À la suite de cet incident, le Troyen prit l’habitude de sàcrifier de cette manière, tradition que respecte Camille et qui sert à expliquer le faux pas du dictateur à la fin de ce sacrifice, annonciateur de sa proche disgrâce.” 123 Cf. also Plut. Cam. 6. Plutarch’s version does not differ substantially from Dionysius’s and Livy’s accounts, except that it concludes with an invitation to cautiousness in dealing with fabulous matters (cf. Duff 2010: 59-60). 124 On Livy’s text, see Ogilvie 1965: 673-5, 678; Cornell 1989: 299; on the cult of Juno Regina, see Palmer 1974: 21-29. Her temple on the Aventine was dedicated in 392 BC (Liv. 5.23.7, 5.31.3; Ogilvie 1965: 694-5). On its restoration under Augustus, cf. RG 19.2; Cooley 2009: 190.

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opportunity to highlight the constant divine support granted to Roman rule as well as Camillus’s devotion (though here this is slightly less prominent). Livy’s text, while reflecting similar ideas, emphasizes not only Camillus’s religious fervour (a point made by Gowing),125 but also the pre- eminence of Juno’s cult in Roman civic religion, as renewed attention was being paid to her figure by late Republican and especially early Augustan authors.126 This argument could be supported by the fact that, unlike Livy (cf. 5.22.7, above), Dionysius does not allude to the ceremony of evocatio through which Camillus ‘called’ Juno out of her seat in Veii and formally invited her to Rome. The performance of this ritual was significant in Roman religious sentiment, as it stressed the originally hostile character of the goddess and, as a result, the importance of her passage to the Roman side.127 As considered in Chapter Three, Juno’s wrath is never mentioned by Dionysius with reference to Aeneas and the settlement of the Trojans in Latium. It is conceivable that Dionysius deliberately omitted allusions to the ‘tormented’ relationship of Juno with the Romans as it was being portrayed in contemporary Roman literature (and especially in the Aeneid, see n. 126) in order to minimize the goddess’s former favour of Rome’s enemy and possibly her connection with Etruscan religion. c) The Faliscan Schoolmaster The last surviving fragment I consider here records a famous episode that traditionally took place during the siege of Falerii, the Etruscan town associated with Veii that was supposedly reduced to submission by Camillus in 394 BC.128 According to the account transmitted by the literary sources—and most extensively by Livy, Dionysius, and Plutarch—a Faliscan schoolmaster attempted to betray his city to the Romans by leading to the Roman camp the group of children he was tending to and by handing them over to Camillus. In the schoolmaster’s plot, since the children in question were the offspring of the most illustrious citizens of Falerii, the Romans could, by accepting them as hostages, easily obtain the surrender of the city from their parents. Camillus, however, is said to have rejected the schoolmaster’s proposal and instead made him go back to

125 Gowing 2009: 340. 126 This is especially manifest in the Virgilian elaboration of her role in the Aeneid, in which she has the crucial function of enabling the Trojan settlement in Latium and, consequently, the Roman development; cf. also Hor. Carm. 2.1.25-28, 3.3, carm. saec. 13-20; Ov. Fast. 2.435-52, 3.245-58; see, in particular, Feeney 1984: 179-94, 1991: 129-87; Edwards 1996: 63-66; Johnston 2002: 123-30. For an overview on the cult of Juno in archaic Italy, see Palmer 1974: 3-56. 127 The evocatio was the religious ceremony that the Roman magistrates performed to invite the enemies’ tutelary deities to Rome. Cf. Beard, North, and Price 1998: 34-35, 132-4; Liou-Gille 1998: 389-92. 128 Cf. Ogilvie 1965: 685; Cornell 1989: 300.

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Falerii tied up and escorted by the children. Camillus’s sense of justice impressed the Faliscans to such a degree that they resolved to offer voluntary submission to the Romans, so that they could live in peace and justice under the Roman rule (cf. Liv. 5.27; RA 13.1-2; Plut. Cam. 10; cf. also Val Max. 6.5.1; Dio 6.24.2-3; Flor. 1.6.5; Front. Strat. 4.4.1; vir. ill. 23.1-2; Polyaen. 8.7.1; Oros. 3.3.4; Eutrop. 1.20). Ogilvie has rightly observed that Livy’s version of this episode, revolving around the notion of fides,129 has a strong moral sense; in addition, Livy underscores the Greek character not only of the Faliscan educational system (cf. Plut. Cam. 10.1), but also of the schoolmaster’s ideas about war conduct and society, which Livy contrasts with the typically Roman values expressed in Camillus’s reply to the schoolmaster: “Just as I did with the Veientines, I will win by Roman means: valour, hard work, arms” (ego Romanis artibus, uirtute opere armis, sicut Ueios uincam, 5.27.8).130 Plutarch, in turn, presents a similar juxtaposition in his account, making Camillus bitterly criticize the schoolmaster with the following words: “For a great general ought to wage war having confidence in his own valour, not in another’s cowardice” (ἀρετῇ γὰρ οἰκείᾳ τὸν μέγαν στρατηγόν, οὐκ ἀλλοτρίᾳ θαρροῦντα κακίᾳ χρῆναι στρατεύειν, Plut. Cam. 10.4)—although such juxtaposition does not have the same ‘ethnic’ connotation (that is, Greek versus Roman values) as it has in Livy, but centers on the two men’s opposite ethics. As Gowing has noted, Dionysius makes no mention of the Greek nature of the Faliscan education, even though previously in his history he dwells on the Greek origin of this town (RA 1.21): “unlike Livy, he refuses to conceive [of this story] as the triumph of Roman values over Greek.”131 However, in his own way, Dionysius does underline the exemplary nature of the Roman behaviour, by contrasting the vile secrecy of the schoolmaster’s proposal with Camillus’s openness as a Roman official. In the first place, Dionysius relates that when Camillus faces the schoolmaster, he does not deliberate about his punishment by himself, but refers the matter to the senate; next, after obtaining the senate’s response, he gives an order to set his tribunal near the city gate and holds a public meeting in front of the Faliscans (13.2.1-2). This intermediate passage is likely Dionysius’s own fabrication, since it appears consistent with his conspicuous preference for the scrupulous observance of legal procedures, which is so frequently encountered throughout his

129 Cf., in particular, Liv. 5.27.11: “The Roman trust, the justice of their leader were glorified in the forum and in the senate” (fides Romana, iustitia imperatoris in foro et curia celebrantur); and 5.27.12: “It is preferable for us to live under your power than our laws” (melius nos sub imperio uestro quam legibus nostris uicturos). 130 See Ogilvie 1965: 686-9. 131 Gowing 2009: 339.

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narrative (cf. discussion at section 5.1.2, above). Undoubtedly for the same reason, in Dionysius’s version Camillus does not speak privately with the schoolmaster, as in Livy’s and Plutarch’s accounts, but he addresses the whole Faliscan community in a speech from his tribunal—that is, in his official capacity as a Roman general—and gives the order to whip the culprit on the spot, before delivering him to the school children for scourging (13.2.3). In this way, Dionysius shows that Camillus is not punishing the schoolmaster by private initiative and according to his own (however good) judgment but undertakes legitimate measures in an official capacity. While to some extent diminishing the vivid portrait that emerges from Livy’s and Plutarch’s versions, Dionysius manages to substitute the contrast between Greek and Roman values, which is a central focus in the other surviving accounts, with the juxtaposition between the treacherous behaviour of the Faliscan schoolmaster and the public response of the Roman leader. Lastly, through these variations Dionysius signals once again the efficient functioning of the Roman government: Camillus cooperates with the senate and acts on the senate’s authority to deliver an exemplary punishment on an enemy of the Romans and to obtain the surrender and lasting loyalty of a city.

5.2.3 Camillus’s Exile and the Invasion of the Gauls

Camillus features as protagonist of a momentous event in Roman history. In c. 386 BC,132 a horde of Gallic tribes coming from the Po Valley (the area known as Cisalpine Gaul) crossed the Apennines into Northern Etruria and, after a stop in Clusium—to which, according to some sources, they were called by a certain Arruns (Liv. 5.33.1-7; RA 13.10-11; Plut. Cam. 15; Dio 7.25.1; cf. Polyb. 2.17.3, 2.25.1-2; Just. 20.5.7-8)—they advanced southwards towards Rome. The Roman army that was sent to check their march was routed at the river Allia, with the survivors fleeing to Veii (Diod. 14.114.5-7, 115.2; Liv. 5.38.5-9; Plut. Cam. 18.6-7).133 The Gauls proceeded to Rome and laid waste to the city, apparently with the exception of the Capitoline Hill, held by a small Roman garrison (cf. Polyb. 1.6.2, 2.18.2). According to Livy, Dionysius, and Plutarch (as well as later sources such as Appian and Dio), Camillus was in exile at Ardea when this occurred134

132 According to Polyb. 1.6.1-2, the Gallic invasion and sack of Rome took place in the same year as the Peace of Antalcidas between Sparta and the Persians, and the siege of Rhegium by Dionysius I of Syracuse (387/386 BC; 390 BC in the Varronian chronology). 133 The sources substantially agree that the Gauls were attracted to central Italy by the fertility of the land. The day of the Roman defeat (July 18) was marked as an unlucky day in the calendar (Gell. NA 5.17.2; Macr. 1.16.23). 134 On Camillus’s exile, cf. Liv. 5.32.7-9; RA 13.5; Plut. Cam. 11-12; App. Ital. 8-9; Dio 24.6.

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and spontaneously returned from there to drive off the Gauls, who were already on the move, and rescue the gold ransom paid to them so that they would leave the city. The Gauls’ attack on Rome was known to the fourth-century BC Greek writers Aristotle and Theopompus, whose fragmentary reports attest to the authenticity of this story.135 According to Polybius, the Gauls eventually concluded a peace treaty with the Romans and returned to their lands (2.18.3). Other sources mention the Gauls’ passage to Southern Italy after overrunning the Roman territory: in his epitome of Pompeius Trogus, Justin relates that following the sack the Gauls were recruited as mercenaries by Dionysius I of Syracuse, who was occupied with military operations against the Greek cities of Magna Graecia (20.5.4-6). This report is partly supported by Diodorus Siculus, who writes that those Gauls who had moved to Iapygia were crushed by an army from Caere on their way back from southern Italy (14.117.7; on Caere’s exploit cf. Strab. 5.2.3, C 220). The tradition represented by Polybius and Diodorus, then, does not include the figure of Camillus.136 Additionally, in the above-mentioned fragment by Aristotle, a certain Lucius is named as saviour of Rome, a detail which gives rise to some perplexity in Plutarch, who reports this information: “It is well-known that the philosopher Aristotle had heard accurately about the capture of the city by the Celts, yet he says that the saviour was Lucius, but Camillus was Marcus, not Lucius. At all events, these things have been related by conjecturing.”137 The addition of Camillus to the story, with his return from exile and intervention, is generally considered a late fabrication. Cornell, in particular, has argued that the purpose of this inclusion was to obscure uncomfortable elements of the earlier tradition (such as Caere’s key role in repelling the Gauls) and to develop the narrative motif of the capital’s transfer to Veii.138 The surviving fragments of Dionysius’s history do not provide a continuous narrative for the events in question. Concerning Camillus’s exile, Dionysius relates that the former dictator incurred the tribunes’ hatred, adducing as the motive for this sentiment the tribunes’ envy of Camillus’s popularity: “After a short time the tribunes of the plebs, resenting Camillus, convened

135 Respectively, Aristotle F 610 Rose = FGrH 840 F 23, cited in Plut. Cam. 22.3, and Theopompus FGrH 115 F 317 and 840 F 24a, cited in Pliny NH 3.57. 136 On the reliability of their respective accounts on the Gaul’s invasion, see Cornell 1995: 318-9. 137 Plut. Cam. 22.3: Ἀριστοτέλης δὲ ὁ φιλόσοφος τὸ μὲν ἁλῶναι τὴν πόλιν ὑπὸ Κελτῶν ἀκριβῶς δῆλός ἐστιν ἀκηκοώς, τὸν δὲ σώσαντα Λεύκιον εἶναί φησιν ἦν δὲ Μᾶρκος, οὐ Λεύκιος, ὁ Κάμιλλος. ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μὲν εἰκασμῷ λέλεκται. See Bruun 2000, esp. 59-60, on the possible genesis of the Camillus legend; according to Bruun, the Lucius indicated by Aristotle could be L. Furius Medullinus. 138 Cornell 1989: 307, cf. 1995: 313-8; on the formation of the historiographical tradition about the invasion of the Gauls, see Alföldi 1965: 355-65; Ogilvie 1965: 715-25; Bremmer-Horsfall 1987: 63-70; Cornell 1989: 302-8.

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an assembly against him and fined him 100,000 asses, (...) so that the one who had successfully conducted very renowned wars should suffer disgrace by being carried off to prison by the tribunes.”139 The fine is paid with the assistance of Camillus’s relatives and clients, but the offence is unendurable and Camillus resolves to leave the city. Upon approaching the gates, between tears and laments, Camillus again invokes the gods, imploring them to be judges of his life:

Then, if you find me guilty of the charges on which the people have passed a vote against me, [I ask you] to give [me] a grievous and shameful end of life, but if in all things with which I have been entrusted by the country in both peace and war, [you find me] pious and just and free of every shameful suspicion, [I ask you] to become my avengers, imposing upon those who have injured me such dangers and fears, by which they will be forced to have recourse to me, seeing no other hope of salvation.140

After uttering this prayer, Camillus leaves for Ardea (13.5.3). His bitter invocation is reported by the majority of the sources dealing with this episode. The words spoken by Camillus, while similar in content, show variations in tone from one account to another. Livy, for instance, briefly reports that Camillus prayed to the effect that, if he was being condemned unjustly, the gods would cause his ungrateful fellow citizens to long for him.141 Plutarch repeats the scene almost identically to how it is described by Livy, adding that Camillus “like Achilles, set curses upon the citizens” (ὥσπερ ὁ Ἀχιλλεὺς, ἀρὰς θέμενος ἐπὶ τοὺς πολίτας, Cam. 12.3-13.1). This reference is to the famous Homeric passage in which Achilles, deprived of his war prize, Briseis, and outraged by Agamemnon’s arrogance, withdraws from battle, swearing that the Achaeans will soon long for him (Il. 1.233-44).142 Contrary to the vague imprecations related by Livy and later Plutarch, in Dionysius’s version it is striking that Camillus prays to the gods for actual vengeance. The language that Camillus uses emphasizes the harsh character of his supplication: he asks the god to be his avengers (τιμωροί) and to carry out their punishment by inflicting “dangers and fears”

139 RA 13.5.1: μετ᾽ οὐ πολὺ δὲ οἱ δήμαρχοι Καμίλλῳ φθονήσαντες ἐκκλησίαν κατ᾽ αὐτοῦ συνήγαγον καὶ ἐζημίωσαν αὐτὸν δέκα μυριάσιν ἀσσαρίων, (...) ἵν᾽ ἀπαχθεὶς εἰς τὸ δεσμωτήριον ὑπὸ τῶν δημάρχων ἀσχημονήσῃ ὁ τοὺς ἐπιφανεστάτους κατορθώσας πολέμους. 140 RA 13.5.3: ἔπειτ᾽, ἐὰν μὲν ἔνοχον εὕρητέ με ταῖς αἰτίαις, ἐφ᾽ αἷς ὁ δῆμος κατεψηφίσατό μου, πονηρὰν καὶ ἀσχήμονα τελευτὴν δοῦναι τοῦ βίου, ἐὰν δ᾽ ἐν ἅπασιν, οἷς ἐπιστεύθην ὑπὸ τῆς πατρίδος ἐν εἰρήνῃ τε καὶ κατὰ πολέμους, εὐσεβῆ καὶ δίκαιον καὶ πάσης ἀσχήμονος ὑποψίας καθαρόν, τιμωροὺς γενέσθαι μοι, τοιούτους ἐπιστήσαντας τοῖς ἠδικηκόσι κινδύνους καὶ φόβους, δι᾽ οὓς ἀναγκασθήσονται μηδεμίαν ἄλλην ἐλπίδα σωτηρίας ὁρῶντες ἐπ᾽ ἐμὲ καταφυγεῖν. 141 Liv. 5.32.9: “Having prayed to the immortal gods that if that offence was happening to him who was innocent, at the first occasion they would cause longing of him in his ungrateful city” (precatus ab dis immortalibus si innoxio sibi ea iniuria fieret, primo quoque tempore desiderium sui ciuitati ingratae facerent). 142 This comparison is alluded to by Appian, as well, who relates that Camillus left “having prayed the prayer of Achilles, that in due time the Romans would yearn after Camillus” (εὐξάμενος τὴν Ἀχίλλειον εὐχήν, ἐπιποθῆσαι Ῥωμαίους Κάμιλλον ἐν καιρῷ, Ital. 9; cf. Dio 6.24.6). See Gowing’s comment on this reference (2009: 340): “While Appian seems uninterested in making Camillus an exemplum in the Livian sense, he nonetheless deliberately aligns him with Greece’s most famous warrior as well as investing him with a slightly more sophisticated patina.”

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(κινδύνοι καὶ φόβοι) upon the Romans, so that “they will be compelled” (ἀναγκασθήσονται) to turn to him—whereas Livy and Plutarch refer, more mildly, to the Romans’ “longing” (using, respectively, the terms desiderium and ποθοῦντας; cf. Liv. 5.32.9, and Plut. Cam. 12.3). Marianne Coudry contends that, because of its hostile tone, Dionysius’s version of Camillus’s imprecation may follow an earlier tradition, which had not been touched yet by the later (likely Augustan) refashioning of the character.143 While this hypothesis seems perfectly plausible, it is conceivable that Dionysius’s choice of an earlier source for this portion of the text was also dictated by precise narrative needs. Specifically, Dionysius may have attempted to emphasize Camillus’s privileged relationship with the gods. Indeed, in his version Camillus’s figure is not simply an instrument of divine will (like Livy’s fatalis dux) but is the actual instigator of the events through his prayers. The account immediately following his departure begins with the abrupt observation that the gods listened to Camillus’s prayer, and after a short time the Gauls captured the city (13.6.1). Gowing has correctly observed that in this way the Gallic attack appears entirely as a divine punishment, with “the effect...to focus attention directly on Camillus and his role in rescuing Rome.”144 When Camillus receives the Roman ambassador, a certain Caedicius, who implores him to go back to Rome and recover his powers, he replies with an emotional speech, in which he proclaims his firm resolve to comply with Caecidius’s requests. In his response, Camillus addresses the gods again, this time with the expectation of benefitting his country:

And to all of you, o gods and spirits, who watch over human life, I acknowledge much gratitude for the things which you have already honoured me with, and I pray about the future that my return should turn out good and fortunate for the country. If it were possible for a human to foresee the things that are going to happen, I would have never prayed that my country should come into such misfortunes and need me; ten thousand times I would have chosen that my life should become unenvied and unhonoured after this rather than see Rome subject to the savagery of barbarian men and holding in me alone the remaining hopes of salvation.145

143 Coudry 2001: 62 with n. 64. 144 Gowing 2009: 341. Gowing (2009: 342) also argues that in portraying Camillus as “an individual who, despite being shabbily treated, nonetheless puts the interests of his fellow citizens before his own” Dionysius might have in mind Themistocles, who is moreover described by Thucydides in a passage quoted by Dionysius elsewhere (Thuc. 1.138.3, in Thuc. 16). However, while there is arguably a parallel between the two characters (as shown by their later biographies paired by Plutarch), Thucydides’s Themistocles does not seem to share many traits with Dionysius’s Camillus, except his having a quick-thinking and acute mind. Interestingly, in examining Plutarch’s presentation of Camillus, Duff (2010: 62) notes that his Camillus is more similar to Aristides than Themistocles. 145 RA 13.6.3-4: ὑμῖν δέ, ὦ θεοί τε καὶ δαίμονες, ὅσοι τὸν ἀνθρώπινον ἐποπτεύετε βίον, ὧν τε ἤδη τετιμήκατέ μοι πολλὴν οἶδα χάριν, καὶ περὶ τῶν μελλόντων εὔχομαι καλὴν καὶ εὐτυχῆ τῇ πατρίδι γενέσθαι τὴν ἐμὴν κάθοδον. εἰ δὲ ἐνῆν ἀνθρώπῳ τὰ μέλλοντα συμβήσεσθαι προιδεῖν, οὐδέποτ᾽ ἂν εὐξάμην ἐς τοιαύτας ἐλθοῦσαν τυχὰς τὴν πατρίδα δεηθῆναί μου· μυριάκις δ᾽ ἂν εἱλόμην ἄζηλον γενέσθαι μοι καὶ ἄτιμον τὸν μετὰ ταῦτα βίον ἢ βαρβάρων ἀνθρώπων ὠμότητι γενομένην τὴν Ῥώμην ὑποχείριον ἐπιδεῖν καὶ ἐν ἐμοὶ μόνῳ τὰς λοιπὰς ἐλπίδας τῆς σωτηρίας ἔχουσαν.

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With an unusually rapid narrative speed—it being uncertain if this depends on the fragmentary status of the story or on actual narrative purposes—Dionysius relates that Camillus, who had been appointed in absentia as “absolute commander with power over war and peace” (ἡγεμόνα πολέμου καὶ εἰρήνης ἐξουσίαν ἔχοντα αὐτοκράτορα, 13.6.1, that is, dictator),146 takes his troops and routs the Gauls (13.6.5). Livy, by contrast, interposes several events between Camillus’s exile and his return, reporting the causes of the Gallic invasion of Italy (5.33-35.3); the embassy of the Fabii to the Gauls (5.35.4-36); the battle at the Allia (5.37-38); and the Gauls’ occupation of Rome (5.39- 43.5). In addition, Livy lingers over the constitutional practicalities connected with the abrogation of Camillus’s banishment and his election as dictator, which is formally carried out, in spite of the Gauls’ occupation, through the passage of a senatorial decree and the vote of the comitia curiata on his re-election (5.46.7-11).147 Plutarch, too, relates that Camillus, being asked by the Roman ambassadors to take his command back, refuses to do so before the citizens could legally elect him (Cam. 24.3, 25.3-4; cf. Dio 7.25.6). In this instance, Dionysius seems to have laid aside his inclination for punctilious legality, which is so often manifest in his narrative (as considered, for example, at sections 5.1.2 and 5.2.2 c). While the absence of details about the formal assignment of new powers to Camillus could be attributable to the poor preservation of the text, it is also possible that Dionysius was in this case more interested in emphasizing Camillus’s fated intervention and the dependence of his success on his own pietas, rather than in describing the legal technicalities of Camillus’s appointment—which would have conceivably conferred less immediacy as well as a less ‘mystic’ colouring on the overall episode. Camillus’s campaign against the Gauls is barely mentioned, but a long portion of the speech he gives to the Roman army in Book Fourteen about their enemy is preserved. The context of the speech appears to be a second attack of the Gauls against the city (RA 14.8), but it is plausible that the sentiment here expressed by the Roman general reflects previous (lost) descriptions of the invaders, so it will be useful to consider some points of it. Camillus’s exhortation to the Roman soldiers focuses first on the differences in arms and fighting techniques between them and the ‘barbarians’ (ὅπλα κρείττονα τῶν βαρβαρικῶν ἡμῖν μεμηχάνηται, 14.9.2; cf. 14.9.3). Next, Camillus invites his men not to be frightened by the mere appearance of the enemy, which he

146 Cf. the similar phrase used at RA 5.73.1 about the appointment of T. Larcius Flavus as first dictator: πολέμου τε καὶ εἰρήνης καὶ παντὸς ἄλλου πράγματος αὐτοκράτωρ. On Camillus’s appointment as dictator cf. Liv. 5.46.10-11; Plut. 25.4. On Dionysius’s conception of dictatorship, cf. Mason 1970: 153-4; Kalyvas 2007, esp. 419-23. 147 Cf. Ogilvie 1965: 732-3.

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describes by listing notorious stereotypes traditionally associated with Greek conceptions of barbarians, from their size (14.9.3) and shabby aspect (cf. 14.9.4, “thick hair” αἱ βαθεῖαι κόμαι, and “the grim character of their gaze,” ὁ βλοσυρὸς τῆς ὄψεως χαρακτὴρ), to their awkward way of moving (their “uncoordinated leaps,” αἵ τε δὴ πλημμελεῖς αὗται σκιρτήσεις, and their “pointless shakings of their weapons,” τὰ διὰ κενῆς ἀνασείσματα τῶν ὅπλων), “and all the other things indulged in by senseless barbarian boastfulness, through both appearance and sound, in threats against the enemy” (καὶ ὅσα ἄλλα ὑπὸ βαρβάρου καὶ ἄφρονος ἀλαζονείας κατά τε μορφὰς καὶ φωνὰς ἐν ἀπειλαῖς πολεμίων σπαθᾶται)—not omitting to remark on their lack of intelligence (τοῖς ἀνοήτως ἐπιοῦσι, 14.9.4—besides ἄφρονος, above).148 By having Camillus portray the Gauls through well-known stereotypes of ‘the barbarian’ and thus creating a neat contrast between the Romans and their enemy, Dionysius reinforces his main stance that the Romans ought not to be regarded by the Greeks as barbarians (cf. RA 1.4.2, 1.5.1, 1.89.1, chap. 2.1.3 a), but in fact embody Greek virtue in civic polity and administration as well as on the battlefield (cf. also discussion above on Dionysius’s portrait of the Etruscans as barbarians, section 5.1.4). My last consideration about Dionysius’s presentation of Camillus concerns his omission, among the causes that determined Camillus’s exile, of the popular resentment produced by his opulent triumph and by his alleged mishandling of the booty from Veii (the affair of the praeda Veientana; cf. Liv. 5.20.10, below). Such omission, once again, may be dependent on the fragmentary state of Dionysius’s work. However, I would like to suggest that the avoidance of elements pointing to pride and avarice on Camillus’s part and to the promotion of discord among the Roman citizens could be deliberate. The literary sources record the celebration of four triumphs in Camillus’s career, the first being granted to him after his capture of Veii in 396 BC. The surviving accounts unanimously agree on the extravagance of this triumphal ceremony. Specifically, the element that is said to be most disturbing for the Roman spectators is the use of a chariot for the triumphator drawn by four white horses.149 The image of the chariot drawn by white horses had recognizable religious associations, since traditionally it was the attribute of major

148 On barbarian stereotypes in Greek literature see Hall 1989, esp. 102-33; Hall 2002, esp. 111-21, 172-220. For an overview of Gallic stereotypes in ancient literary accounts from Polybius to Caesar, see Gruen 2011: 141-47 (with previous references), and 147-58 specifically on Caesar’s rendering. On Dionysius’s fragmentary account of the Gallic capture of Rome (Books 13 and 14), cf. Amat Séguin 1989: 143-57. 149 Cf. Diod. 14.117.6; Liv. 5.23.4-6; Plut. Cam. 7.1-2; Dio in Zon. 7.21, and 52.13.3; cf. Pliny NH 33.111; vir. ill. 23.4. Diodorus states that Camillus was prevented from celebrating a triumph after conquering Veii but adds that other writers reported that Camillus did celebrate it in the fashion described above and was thereby fined (ibid).

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deities. Therefore, through such a display Camillus would have likened himself to the gods, as best explained by Livy:

He himself was especially conspicuous, being carried into the city by a chariot harnessed to white horses, and this appeared unbecoming not only of a private citizen but also of a mortal. Indeed, they began to assume that the dictator would be superstitiously equated to Jupiter and Sol on account of his horses, and certainly because of this thing alone his triumph was more illustrious than agreeable.150

Likewise, Plutarch (echoed by Dio) asserts that Camillus was the first Roman to parade white horses in a triumph, likening himself to Jupiter: “he mounted a chariot having harnessed it to four white horses and drove through Rome, although no general had done this before or later, for they regarded such a vehicle as being sacred and devoted to the king and father of the gods.”151 Scholars have commonly interpreted these accounts as anachronistic anticipations of Caesar’s triumph after his victory at Thapsus in 46 BC, for which he was apparently granted permission to drive a chariot drawn by white horses (Dio 43.14.3).152 As considered in the previous chapter, a tradition attested by Dionysius credits Romulus with the first triumph parading a four- horse chariot (RA 2.34.2; see discussion at chap. 4.2.3 with notes 149 and 172). According to Propertius, who reports the same information, those horses were white (quattuor hinc albos Romulus egit equos, 4.1.32).153 Dionysius does not mention the colour of the animals, but adds interesting details on Romulus’s triumphal customs, which underline the exceptional character of Romulus’s privileges. On the occasion of his second triumph (that is, after the conquest of Camerini), Romulus dedicated a bronze four-horse chariot to Vulcan, setting his own statue next to it accompanied by a Greek inscription of his deeds (2.54.2). As for Romulus’s third and last triumph, which was celebrated after his victory over Veii, Dionysius tells that it was “by far more splendid than the previous ones” (μακρῷ τῶν προτέρων ἐκπρεπέστερος, 2.55.5), and thus would

150 Liv. 5.23.5-6: maxime conspectus ipse est, curru equis albis iuncto urbem invectus, parumque id non civile modo sed humanum etiam visum. Iovis Solisque equis aequiperatum dictatorem in religionem etiam trahebant triumphusque ob eam unam maxime rem clarior quam gratior fuit. This association is explained by Ogilvie (1965: 678-80): the statue of a quadriga made by a Veientine artist (Vulca) stood on the roof of the Capitoline temple of Jupiter (as attested by Plut. Publ. 13; Fest. 340 L; Serv. Aen. 7.188). 151 Plut. Cam. 7.1: τέθριππον ὑποζευξάμενος λευκόπωλον ἐπέβη καὶ διεξήλασε τῆς Ῥώμης, οὐδενὸς τοῦτο ποιήσαντος ἡγεμόνος πρότερον οὐδ᾽ ὕστερον, ἱερὸν γὰρ ἡγοῦνται τὸ τοιοῦτον ὄχημα τῷ βασιλεῖ καὶ πατρὶ ῶν θεῶν ἐπιπεφημισμένον. Cf. Zon. 7.21: “The people was angry and indignant at Camillus (...) because as first among the Romans he led the triumphal procession with four white horses yoked to a chariot” (τῷ δὲ Καμίλλῳ προσώχθισεν ὁ δῆμος καὶ ἐνεμέσησε (...) τὸ δ᾿ ὅτι πρῶτος Ῥωμαίων λευκῷ τεθρίππῳ τὰ ἐπινίκια ἔπεμψεν). On Plutarch’s text, see Duff 2010: 60-61. 152 See Weinstock 1971: 68–75, who includes a discussion of the Greek precedents for this usage; cf. Versnel 1970: 63, 67-68, 305; Beard 2007: 234-6; Ostenberg 2009: 208. 153 Ogilvie (1965: 679) argues that Romulus’s triumph may have been invented as a precedent for Camillus against an “anti-Camillus movement” that arose among historians, Camillus being presented as a second Romulus.

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have likely included—as his first triumph—the four-horse chariot. Given the association between Romulus and Camillus, it seems not unreasonable to assume that Dionysius drew details for his account of Romulus’s triumph from the tradition about Camillus’s triumph following the conquest of Veii. In addition, it is evident that in the other literary accounts considered here Camillus is implicitly accused of hybris for likening himself to the gods. However, this element would have been notably at odds with the description discussed above of Camillus as the instrument and instigator of divine will, which seems to be a dominant theme in Dionysius’s rendering of the legendary character. It is less clear why Dionysius does not mention the affair of the praeda Veientana, or the booty from Veii. Livy, followed by other sources, relates that, before capturing Veii, Camillus vowed a tenth of the booty to Apollo. This obligation, however, could not be immediately discharged, since—due to Camillus’s mismanagement—the booty was entirely distributed among the soldiers and the people. The pontiffs, then, in order to fulfill the vow, proposed that each citizen should donate a tenth of the share received. This incident considerably alienated the people’s sympathy for Camillus and supplied the pretext for putting him on trial (Liv. 5.21.2, 5.23.8-11, 5.25.4-12, 5.32.8-9; cf. Plut. Cam. 7.5-8.2, 11.1-12.2; App. Ital. 8).154 The episode may simply have not survived in Dionysius’s text; yet it is at least peculiar that at the beginning of Chapter 13.5 (previously mentioned), Dionysius merely states that Camillus was fined and humiliated because of the tribunes’ envy and maliciousness. It seems reasonable to suggest that, if Dionysius had cited the booty of Veii at some point in his narrative, he would have recalled it in this specific circumstance. It seems more likely, therefore, that Dionysius deliberately omitted the story of Camillus’s mishandling of the booty altogether, as this episode made Camillus appear either careless towards the gods or greedy, unlike the previous characterization of him. Finally, in the versions given by Livy and Plutarch, the affair of the booty causes great dissension among the citizens (cf. Liv. 5.20, 22; Plut. Cam. 7.4-8.2). Livy underscores the anxiety experienced by Camillus when thinking about the distribution of the booty, as he was disinclined to anger the soldiers as well as to cause the senators’ resentment; the senate, for its part, was internally divided

154 Slightly different is the account of Dio (Zon. 7.21), which reports that Camillus did put aside the tenth of the booty promised to Apollo and offered it to the god. Yet the people got angry at him because he did that not at the time of the capture of Veii, but after a considerable interval (an element which may indeed implicate some mishandling). Afterwards, Camillus is said to have been convicted by the tribunes on the charge of not having benefited the public treasury with the booty (Dio 6.24.4).

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about how to handle the distribution (5.20), which eventually caused the ire of the plebs (5.22.1). Plutarch makes overt mention of the soldiers’ disturbances and harsh feelings towards Camillus (θορυβουμένῳ δ᾽ ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν τῷ Καμίλλῳ, οἱ δ᾽ ἐχαλέπαινον), caused by Camillus’s confession of having forgotten about his vow to Apollo (Cam. 8.2). In Dionysius, besides the negative characterization of the tribunes and their determination to turn public opinion against Camillus, there is no allusion even to faults on Camillus’s part, much less to possible civil discord caused by them. Camillus appears as a victim of the tribunician abuses—surely a version of the story handed down by an early first-century pro-optimates source—but, most importantly for Dionysius’s aim, he does not emerge from this account with any ambivalent characterization, either as insufficiently pious (as in Plutarch) or as ambiguously indecisive (as in Livy).

4.4 Conclusions

The character of L. Junius Brutus played a crucial role in the overall conception of the Roman Antiquities. His figure, which was possibly largely unknown to the Greek public, was inseparably connected with the foundation of the Republic and therefore with the successful development of the Roman constitution. In the first four books of his history, Dionysius consistently depicts the Roman government as an effective prototype of the mixed constitution and is often keen to demonstrate how the Romans outdid the Greeks (mentioning, in particular, the ancient cities of Athens and Sparta) in constitutional matters and in the pursuit of civic virtues, even though Greek models are said to be ever present as inspirations for most Roman political innovations. Dionysius’s portrait of Brutus highlights these aspects of early Roman society by presenting Brutus as being exemplary in his practice of εὐσέβεια and δικαιοσύνη (that is, of civic virtues), both public and private, and by describing his efforts in ‘perfecting’ the previous constitution through the adoption of the best Greek customs as well as the sensible modification of existing ones. A second aspect I have noted in this chapter is the emphasis that Dionysius lays on the idea of civil concord. Like the constitution of Romulus, which was refined by Numa, the one established by Brutus is also said to be grounded on harmony among the civic bodies. Brutus’s initiatives are subsequently enacted through the cooperation between the consuls, the senate, and the popular assembly, and are aimed at the maintenance of social stability. Brutus is depicted as a member of the patrician aristocracy, to which he assigns the leadership in the government, and as a supporter

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of senatorial primacy. While he does not question such pre-eminence, he repeatedly advocates the necessity of mutual respect between the different political bodies and recognizes the importance of the popular vote for the peaceful and lawful advancement of the state and its institutions. Brutus’s personal qualities receive a certain emphasis in Dionysius’s account, too. He is depicted as a devout man, who possesses great political wisdom. His devotion is directed not only towards religion but, most notably, towards the nation’s welfare, for which he stoically sacrifices both his sons. The latter episode is related by Dionysius with hesitation and fear of misreading, since his Greek audience could fail to understand its context and significance. A few instances in Brutus’s story also indicate the influence of contemporary sources, which Dionysius appears to have elaborated to enhance his presentation of Brutus. In particular, Dionysius may have learned the details that Brutus belonged to a patrician family and died childless from a ‘pro-Caesarian’ source (or a pre-Caesarian source later followed by Caesar’s admirers). While it may be speculative to suggest that this version was adopted by Dionysius because of its political stance, it certainly helped him to dissociate the figure of L. Brutus from recent (uncomfortable) events linked to Caesar’s assassination and civil strife, and to eliminate from his portrait any possible subversive or ambivalent connotations. Interestingly, Brutus emerges from Dionysius’s portrait as a ‘re- founder’, whose activity could easily be paralleled to that of Romulus and Numa, and—in Dionysius’s own time—of Augustus. The references to the fight for liberty and the victory over tyranny, the restoration of the ancestral order and institutions, the suppression of conspicuous royal traits from their public personas, and the ostensible legality of measures enacted by them are all suggestive of a possible influence of Augustus’s self-fashioning on Dionysius’s (or his source’s) description of Brutus. As for M. Furius Camillus, the extant episodes of the Roman Antiquities concerning his life and deeds show that the features most emphasized by Dionysius were his pietas and his sense of justice. In spite of the poor state of preservation of the relevant sections of Dionysius’s account, the surviving fragments suggest specific preoccupations on Dionysius’s part. For instance, Dionysius removes any human responsibility for Veii’s conquest as well as Rome’s subsequent capture by the Gauls, suggesting that the fall of these cities followed patterns preordained by fate. The events in the narrative that precede the invasion of the Gauls, including the conquest of Veii with the ‘Herodotean’ meditations on the mutability of fortune and on divine jealousy, are constructed so as to eliminate the possibility of faults on the Romans’ part for their own ruin. The

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implicit references to Herodotus’s text and to Greek characters such as Solon and Aeneas, in the same initial passages, also suggest that Dionysius’s Greek audience likely had little familiarity with the figure of Camillus and possibly needed well-known (Greek) parallels to assess his deeds and acknowledge his virtues. Another device that Dionysius employs to assign certain qualities to Camillus is the remark, in the story of the Faliscan schoolmaster, on Camillus’s observance of law as well as his cooperation with the senate in his capacity as a Roman magistrate. Camillus’s main quality—that is, his pietas—is highlighted by Dionysius not only through the above-mentioned association with Aeneas, but also through the numerous references to Camillus’s prayers. Camillus is depicted as a fated leader, who has the ability to communicate with the gods and in fact instigates their intervention through his utterances; his twofold invocation of divine assistance in obtaining justice gains him the gods’ prompt response. On the other hand, Dionysius may have omitted from his narrative episodes or elements that rendered Camillus’s behaviour as ambivalent, if not flawed.155 This could be the case with the missing reports of the popular resentment caused by Camillus’s extravagant triumph and of his involvement in the mishandling of the booty from Veii. The latter episode, in particular, complicated the fulfilment of a vow to Apollo and caused dissention at many levels of society. Such blemishes on Camillus’s figure would have undoubtedly tarnished his characterization as a devout and just leader, entirely committed to his country (as shown by his prayers and by his rapid intervention against the Gauls), and as a man who enjoyed an exceptional relationship with the divine. Lastly, as I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, both Brutus and Camillus may be thought of as protectors of their country against ‘foreign’ threats, inasmuch as the Tarquins can easily be viewed as external enemies of the Romans (cf. introduction, above). For both, Dionysius enhances their ‘Greek’ characterization not only by emphasizing their civic virtues, but also by accentuating the differences between the Romans (of whom Brutus and Camillus were military and political leaders) and their ‘barbarian’ enemies. Brutus’s encounter with Arruns, in particular, could symbolize, in the eyes of the Greek readers, a transposition of the conflict between Greeks and barbarians.

155 As Christopher Mackay has observed commenting on this chapter, Camillus’s vengeful prayer could in fact be interpreted as a negative aspect of his action. However, as I stressed in the previous section, Dionysius may have inserted this unique detail in his account to emphasize Camillus’s privileged relationship with the divine. Also, it ought to be noticed that trough this prayer Camillus asks the gods not merely for vengeance, but truly for justice, since he had been treated unfairly by his fellow-citizens. Therefore, Camillus’s request ought to be ultimately regarded as having a positive connotation.

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Fig. 1 — a) Denarius of M. Junius Brutus, 54 BC. Head of Libertas. Legend: LIBERTAS. Rev.: L. Junius Brutus walking between two lictors and preceded by an attendant. Legend: BRUTUS (RRC 433/1). b) Denarius of M. Junius Brutus, 54 BC. Bearded head of L. Junius Brutus. Legend: BRUTUS. Rev.: bearded head of C. Servilius Ahala. Legend: AHALA (RRC 433/2).

Fig. 2 — Aureus of M. Junius Brutus, 43-42 BC. Bearded head of L. Junius Brutus. Legend: L·BRVTVS·PRIM·COS. Rev.: Head of M. Junius Brutus. Legend: M·BRVTVS·IMP COSTA·LEG (RRC 506/1).

All the present images have been ordered from the British Museum Website through the Free Image Service.

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EPILOGUE

How does Dionysius’s history of Rome fit in with the reality of the Augustan Principate? And what picture of ancient Rome does it present? While there are no simple answers to these questions, in this thesis I hope to have unveiled some of the complexities underlying Dionysius’s project as well as some of the relations between his work and the contemporary cultural milieu. I focused in particular on Dionysius’s elaboration of source material and his narrative techniques, with the purpose of shedding light on Dionysius’s reconstruction and tailoring of archaic Roman history for a mostly (though not exclusively) Greek audience—an audience composed for the most part of educated elites, who could appreciate the rich historical narrative explaining the origins and growth of Roman power. Although numerous histories of Rome had been written before the Roman Antiquities, Dionysius’s work was unique in its attempt to demonstrate that rulers and subjects— Romans and Greeks—not only shared a common origin, but also had a common cultural heritage based on well-defined moral and ethical principles. Dionysius achieves his objects (or at least attempts to do so) by claiming an actually Greek descent for the Romans, by emphasizing the exemplary nature of their deeds, and by outlining a very distinctive constitutional history for their government, which could ultimately justify the durable and stable nature of the Roman Empire. My examination of Dionysius’s work centered on the figures of ‘founders’—legendary characters who were associated, in the Roman historical tradition, with the establishment of Rome’s key institutions and were also distinguished for their extraordinary qualities (both civic and individual). An important criterion I considered in selecting my subject was the relevance of these figures in Dionysius’s time and, specifically, in the context of the cultural and political developments of the late Republican and early Augustan period. Aeneas, Romulus, Numa, Brutus, and Camillus were all in one way or another linked to contemporary politics, both through individual attempts at self-fashioning and enhancing family prestige and, especially with Augustus, through deliberate efforts of creating precedents and illustrious counterparts for his own action. The socio-political and cultural conditions surrounding Dionysius’s activity (which I examined in Chapter One) had a decisive influence on the composition of his history and, conceivably, on his developing a markedly favourable view of Roman hegemony and the benefits that this could offer for the Greek cities, now finally unified under the Roman sway. Living and

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working in Rome, Dionysius had access to abundant resources for his research and established contacts with elite networks that may have facilitated his understanding of Roman mentality, traditions, cultural heritage, as well as political and legal systems (cf., for instance, Dionysius’s intimacy with Q. Aelius Tubero). Favourable opinions about Roman characters and institutions are continually expressed throughout the Roman Antiquities. As I often observe, however, these positive assessments appear to be primarily directed towards Dionysius’s Greek readership, in an attempt to show how traditional Greek weaknesses (such as the discord endemic among Greek cities and practices intended to limit the enrolment of foreigners into the citizenry) were successfully overcome by the Romans. Dionysius’s basic assumption, though—which is also a ‘concession’ to his Greek audience—was that the Romans succeeded where the Greek had failed by putting Greek civic virtue into practice: perhaps a twofold comedown for some, but surely a demonstration of the validity of those principles for Dionysius. As I discussed in Chapter Two, Dionysius was indeed greatly influenced by fourth-century BC Greek political thought, and in particular by Isocrates’s theories about the importance of civil concord and the philosophical and rhetorical education of the ruling class, and by Plato’s and Aristotle’s theorizing on the mixed constitution. The picture of Rome that emerges from the Roman Antiquities incorporates such ideas, producing an idealized society, where harmony, wise politics, and a balanced form of government enable its inhabitants to surmount any obstacle to their expansion and even cope with major disasters. My analysis of the individual figures I have selected shows how Dionysius inscribed his presentation of early Rome (focusing in particular on its rulers and prominent representatives) in this theoretical framework. Drawing information (as well as inspiration) from a large variety of sources—from fifth-century BC Greek historians to Roman late annalists and ‘antiquarians’— Dionysius shapes the main characters of his history by endowing them with Greek cardinal virtues and blending their idealized Greek traits with their Roman portraits, which often acquired set features only in the mid to late first century BC. In constructing his figures, Dionysius also shows recurrent preoccupations: primarily, to demonstrate the inner Greek nature of the Romans, and secondly, to make it easier for his Greek readers to understand the nature of the figure he is discussing. The portrait of Aeneas, for example, owes much to the Homeric depiction of the hero; Romulus has recognizable features of the Greek οἰκιστής and lawgiver; Numa is a Solon-like type; the saga of Camillus is presented through Herodotean topoi; and Brutus combines cunning and

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political wisdom with a final quasi-stoic countenance. Dionysius, however, is not merely presenting Greek characters. The construction of his figures is complicated by the adoption (and adaptation) of Roman contemporary motifs, which were possibly prompted by the ideological developments connected with Augustus’s rise to power and his establishment of a new political order. Accordingly, the story of the Roman Penates intrudes into Hellanicus’s account of Aeneas’s journey, and Brutus’s establishment of the Republic offers intriguing comparisons with the recent political changes at Rome. Despite current associations of Augustus with Aeneas, Romulus, Numa, and—likely— Camillus, Dionysius does not lapse in outright praise of the princeps nor he make overt connections between Augustus and his ancestors/predecessors. In fact, Augustus is named explicitly only once in the work’s preface, and then only for chronological purposes. As often mentioned in the previous chapters, veiled or presumed references to Augustus or current events do not necessarily imply that Dionysius subscribed to a certain view of Rome’s new ruler. However, it is also true that Dionysius consistently presents Roman domination as providential, having been ‘demonstrably’ supported by divine favour over the centuries. It is not difficult to fit this view into contemporary manifestations of approval and joy at Augustus’s victory and descriptions hinting at his divine and fated nature. Furthermore, Dionysius’s conception of Roman imperial power is not accompanied, as in Livy, by a sentiment of pessimism and disillusion—whether this was caused by the perceived moral decline of the Roman nobilitas or by the painful transitioning to a monarchy through a century of civil conflict—or by ambiguous messages, such as those occasionally emerging from contemporary Latin poetry; Dionysius’s acceptance of Roman power is overall rather unproblematic. What still appears to trouble many scholars is understanding the degree to which Dionysius, through his writing, was complimenting his Roman friends and trying to win popularity through the encomium of the conquerors, and the degree to which he was sincerely promoting a cosmopolitan view of the Mediterranean world and foreshadowing the formation of an ethnically composite imperial elite, working for the advancement and maintenance of Roman supremacy. Much of the text I have analyzed here seems to shift the balance towards the second option. Perhaps, as a subject, Dionysius had few difficulties accepting the inevitability of his condition; perhaps, he was truly convinced that the best ethical and civic principles were embodied in Roman society; and with notable foresight and pragmatism—feeling untroubled by a change in the central government that would bear no ideological consequences on his group identity—he

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advocated Roman domination to his fellow-provincials, promoting through his history the valuable advantages of abandoning any animosity and collaborating with the rulers.

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