Philip V of Macedon in Polybius' Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction 0192866761, 9780192866769, 2022945454

Table of contents :
Cover
Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Contents
Map
Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor, c.221‒179 BC
Eastern Mainland Greece
Central Peloponnese
List of Abbreviations
Introduction
Philip V and the Antigonid Dynasty
Polybius of Megalopolis
Further Historiographical, Literary, and Documentary Evidence for Philip V
The State of the Field: Philip V
The State of the Field: Polybius
Polybius’ Purpose, Methodology, and Audience
Tyche: The ‘Director’ of the Symploke and the Fate of Macedon
The Structure and Aim of This Volume
1: Constructing Macedon and the World Through an Achaean Perspective
Part 1: Polybius’ Achaean Perspective
The Use and Adaptation of Aratus’ Memoirs
The ‘Secret Negotiations’ with Macedon in 227 
The Defence of Achaean Actions: Mantinea and Aristomachus
Aratus of Sicyon: The Best of the Achaeans
Part 2: The Relationship Between Aratus, Achaea, and Antigonus Doson
Macedon and Achaea: A Partnership of Negotiation
Conclusion
2: The Darling of the Greeks Turns into a Tyrant
Part 1: The Attack on Thermum, 218 BC
The Laws of War and the Justice of Retaliation
Kingly vs. Tyrannical Behaviour
Aratus’ Involvement and the Loyalty of His Allies
Benefits to Finances and Morale
An Oversight and a Concession
Part 2: The Attempt on Messene, 215 BC
Practical and Strategic Considerations
Keeping the Faith of the Achaean League
Aratus of Sicyon and Demetrius of Pharus: The Hero and the Villain
Conclusion
3: Philip V and His Greek Allies
The Sources and the Question of ‘the Greeks’
Part 1: Philip’s Treatment of His Allies Before Messene (220‒215 BC)
Philip V as Hegemon of the Symmachy
Philip and the Achaean League
Philip’s Kingly Behaviour
Part 2: Philip’s Treatment of His Allies After Messene (215‒196 BC)
215‒205 BC: To the End of the First Macedonian War
The Expectations of the King and His Allies
205‒200 BC: To the Start of the Second Macedonian War
Philip, Rhodes, and Crete
Cius and Prusias of Bithynia
Aetolian Territory and Thasos (202 BC)
Philip and Acarnania
200‒196 BC: To the End of the Second Macedonian War
Losing Territory and Faith
Philip’s Changing Behaviour and Desperation
Part 3: The Loyalty and Defection of Philip’s Greek Allies
The Achaean League
The Boeotian League
The Acarnanian League
Conclusion
4: Philip and the Romans
Part 1: Polybius and the Macedonian–Roman Question in the Second Century BC
A World in Two Minds
The Missing Case of Macedon
Polybius’ Answer: Cultural Politics, Hellenism, and Barbarism
Hellenism, Barbarism, and the Cycle of Constitutions
Part 2: Hellenic Rome, Barbaric Macedon
The Romans: Barbarians to Hellenes (264–200 BC)
The Greekness and Barbarity of Philip V
Philip’s Early Years: Kingship and Hellenism (221–215 BC)
Interlude: Book 6 and Polybius on Kingship and Tyranny
The Slide into Tyranny and Barbarity (215–204 BC)
Beyond Tyranny into Insanity and Beastlike Behaviour, 203–200 BC
Proclaimed Tyrant and Unspoken Barbarian
Part 3: The War against the Barbarian: The Second Macedonian War (200–196 BC)
The Conference of Nicaea, 198 BC: Macedon vs. Aetolia (Plb. 18.1–5)
The Conference of Nicaea, 198 BC: Philip vs. Flamininus (Plb. 18.6–12)
An Uncertain Turning-Point: The Battle of Cynoscephalae, 197 BC (Plb. 18.18–27)
The Weakness of Macedon and the Strength of Rome Explained
The Roman Takeover of the Hellenic Cause: Flamininus, the Saviour of the Greeks
Conclusion: Reversals of Conduct
5: A Tragic King
Part 1: Polybius’ Account of Philip’s Final Years (183–179 BC)
Philip’s War of Revenge Against Rome: A Polybian Mistake?
Polybius’ Case for Philip’s Universal Ambition: Thematic Repetition
Hindsight and Teleology
The Pact Between the Kings
The Consistency and Decisiveness of Philip
Part 2: The Tragic Mode of Philip’s Last Years
Tragedy, Education, and Political Morality
Philip as a Tragic Figure: Historical Implications
Conclusion
6: Woven History, Woven Lives
Part 1: Polybius on Biographical Material in History
A Biographical Reading of Polybius’ Histories
Polybius’ ‘Political Biography’ of Philip V of Macedon
Part 2: One Man Among Many
Part 3: A Comparison of Philip’s Portrait with Other Kings (and Hannibal)
Kings
Predecessors: Philip II and Alexander the Great
Contemporaries: Ptolemy IV and Antiochus III
Ptolemy IV Philopator
Antiochus III
Successors: Perseus (& Eumenes II)
Hannibal
Conclusion
Conclusion
Bibliography
Primary Literature
Secondary Literature
Index Locorum
General Index

Citation preview

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories Politics, History, and Fiction EMMA NICHOLSON

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Emma Nicholson 2023 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2023 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2022945454 ISBN 978–0–19–286676–9 DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.001.0001 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

Acknowledgements This volume began as my doctoral thesis, written and completed at Newcastle University between 2012 and 2015. It has had a long period of gestation and expansion since those early days and there are, therefore, many people and institutions to thank for its final shape and publication. I was originally directed to Philip V and Polybius many years ago by Lene Rubinstein, whose lectures and dissertation supervision during my BA and MA at Royal Holloway fuelled my interest in the ancient world and particularly ancient Macedonia and the Hellenistic period. It was, however, under the enthusiastic, patient, and wise guidance of my doctoral supervisor, Federico Santangelo, that the project first developed and came together, and to whom I offer the most profound thanks for guiding my academic development. Our supervision meetings were always a rewarding experience, and I came away from them buoyed up with self-belief and an eager readiness to take on the next challenge. The late Professor John Moles, my second supervisor, was equally fundamental for my knowledge of historiographical matters and Greek language. Gratitude must also go to the School of History, Classics and Archaeology at Newcastle University for their award of an Arts and Humanities Research Council Ph.D. Studentship, without which this project would have been immensely more difficult. The Ph.D. community at Newcastle between 2012 and 2016 was a fertile place for burgeoning academic aspirations and friendships (and still is), and the experience would not have been so rewarding without the companionship of Ali Chapman, Fiona Marsh, Chris Mowat, David Lowther, Lizzie Cooper, Fiona Noble, Frances Roberts-Wood, and Vicky Manolopoulou. The Institute of Classical Studies in London was a frequent home for many of my undergraduate and postgraduate years, and I continue to be eternally grateful for this vast repository of ancient knowledge and the wisdom of its staff. Many thanks also go to the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst (DAAD) and Boris Dreyer at FriedrichAlexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg for the chance to travel to and study in Germany in the final months of the thesis’s write-up, to Felix Maier in Freiburg for our conversations about Polybius, and to Sabina, Johannes, and Christina for their warm welcome, continuous friendship, and adventures while in Bavaria (Franconia!). I also thank my external examiners, Andrew Erskine and Brian McGing, not only for making my viva in December 2015 a rewarding and constructive experience, but also for offering invaluable advice about turning the thesis into the present volume.

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Bruce Gibson, Lisa Hau, Nikos Miltsios, and Nicolas Wiater were inspirations to a freshly completed and exhausted Ph.D. at the ‘Polybius and his Legacy’ conference at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki in May 2016. Our discussions about Polybius have helped in the adaptation and expansion of the thesis into the volume it is today. The University of Edinburgh shaped the next year in both research and teaching matters (2016‒17): the thesis took its first tentative steps toward bookhood, and my colleagues, Kim Czajkowski, Benedikt Eckhardt, Andreas Gavrielatos, Christian Djurslev (and Taylor), and Emanuele Intagliata made the first years of an academic career immensely more rewarding. The University of Exeter generously allowed me to continue my academic journey in 2017, and I (and this book) have greatly benefited from the brilliance, passion, and strength of my colleagues in the department of Classics and Ancient History, as well as the rigour and richness of its research environment. I am thankful to my colleagues Lynette Mitchell, Neville Morley, and Daniel Ogden for their support of my Hellenistic and Antigonid ambitions, to Elena Isayev for her wise and energetic advice, to Rebecca Langlands for her kindness and ever ready support, and to Nicolo D’Alconzo, Maria Gerolomenou, Richard Flower, Consuelo Manetta, Irene Salvo, and Charlotte Tupman for their friendship. Also, to my Ph.D. students, Julius Guthrie, Charlotte Spence, and Sorcha Ross, for their joy of research and our long conversations. You will no doubt go on to great things. In the last few years, and during the pandemic, it has been the Antigonid Network that has helped to shape this book and my thoughts on one of the last kings of Macedonia. Our online seminars made the work less thankless in the unending days at home. Thanks are due especially to my co-director Annelies Cazemier for her assistance in setting up and developing the Network, but also to Monica D’Agostini, Michael Kleu, Sheila Ager, Pat Wheatley, John Thornton, and Robin Waterfield, for urging me to completion and fuelling the thought-process. I thank the anonymous reviewers for their insightful comments and suggestions which turned this book into a much better work. Thank you also to Michael Athanson for his beautiful maps, to Charlotte Loveridge for agreeing to publish this book and for making the process a fair and fruitful one, and to Jamie Mortimer, Vaishnavi Subramanyam, and Saranya Ravi for pulling it all together at the end. Finally, to Korra, who sat at my feet in the manuscript’s last stages and kept me sane during lockdown and comforted while ill. To my Mum and Dad for their constant encouragement and patience, for cheering me on at every battle and celebrating every victory. To my brother and sister for their never-ending love, support, and willingness to listen. And to my husband, Ollie, who has stood by me through it all, read far too many versions of this book, and kept me healthy with his spectacular food and adventures. This would not have been possible without your unwavering belief, trust, and love.

Contents Maps Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor, c.221‒179  Eastern Mainland Greece Central Peloponnese List of Abbreviations

x xii xiii xv

Introduction

1

Philip V and the Antigonid Dynasty Polybius of Megalopolis Further Historiographical, Literary, and Documentary Evidence for Philip V The State of the Field: Philip V The State of the Field: Polybius Polybius’ Purpose, Methodology, and Audience Tyche: The ‘Director’ of the Symploke and the Fate of Macedon The Structure and Aim of This Volume

2 4

1. Constructing Macedon and the World Through an Achaean Perspective Part 1: Polybius’ Achaean Perspective Part 2: The Relationship Between Aratus, Achaea, and Antigonus Doson Conclusion 2. The Darling of the Greeks Turns into a Tyrant Part 1: The Attack on Thermum, 218  Part 2: The Attempt on Messene, 215  Conclusion

7 12 13 18 23 25

27 27 48 57

59 61 81 99

3. Philip V and His Greek Allies The Sources and the Question of ‘the Greeks’ Part 1: Philip’s Treatment of His Allies Before Messene (220‒215 ) Part 2: Philip’s Treatment of His Allies After Messene (215‒196 ) Part 3: The Loyalty and Defection of Philip’s Greek Allies Conclusion

101 102

4. Philip and the Romans Part 1: Polybius and the Macedonian–Roman Question in the Second Century  Part 2: Hellenic Rome, Barbaric Macedon

164

107 118 151 162

165 182

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Part 3: The War against the Barbarian: The Second Macedonian War (200‒196 ) Conclusion: Reversals of Conduct

205 223

5. A Tragic King Part 1: Polybius’ Account of Philip’s Final Years (183‒179 ) Part 2: The Tragic Mode of Philip’s Last Years Conclusion

228 229 249 265

6. Woven History, Woven Lives Part 1: Polybius on Biographical Material in History Part 2: One Man Among Many Part 3: A Comparison of Philip’s Portrait with Other Kings (and Hannibal) Conclusion

267 270 281

Conclusion Bibliography Index Locorum General Index

285 324

328 337 365 377

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 17/1/2023, SPi

Map 1. Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor, c.221‒179 

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 17/1/2023, SPi

Map 2. Eastern Mainland Greece © Emma Nicholson

Map 3. Central Peloponnese © Emma Nicholson

List of Abbreviations Anth. Pal. BCH BE BNP CAH EAH FGrHist FRH G-A. HCP IG ISE I. Stratonikeia LGPN OCD OGIS RE SEG SIG/Syll³

Palatine Anthology. Bulletin de correspondance hellénique. Bulletin épigraphique, published in Revue des études grecques. H. Schneider, M. Landfester, & H. Cancik (2002) Brill’s New Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the Ancient World, 20 vols., Leiden. Cambridge Ancient History. Encyclopedia of Ancient History. F. Jacoby (1923‒) Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, Berlin/Leiden. H. Beck & U. Walter (2001-) Die Frühen Römischen Historiker, Darmstadt. W. R. Paton (ed.) The Greek Anthology, 5 vol., London/New York, 1927–28 F. W. Walbank (1957‒79) A Historical Commentary on Polybius, 3 vols., Oxford. Inscriptiones graecae, 2nd edn., Berlin, 1913–. L. Moretti (1967) Iscrizioni Storiche Ellenistiche, Florence. M. Ç. Sahin (1981‒1990) Die Inschriften von Stratonikeia (IK 21‒2). The Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, Oxford. Oxford Classical Dictionary Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae A. Pauly, G. Wissowa, & W. Kroll (1894‒1980) Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, Stuttgart. Supplementum epigraphicum graecum, Leiden, 1923‒. Dittenberger, W. (1915‒24) Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 3rd edn., Leipzig.

Abbreviations for ancient authors follow Liddel and Scott’s Lexicon for Greek authors and the Oxford Latin Dictionary for Latin authors, with the following exceptions: Aesch. Dem. Diod. Eur. Plut. Soph. Thuc. Xen.

Aeschylus Demosthenes Diodorus Euripides Plutarch Sophocles Thucydides Xenophon

Introduction According to Polybius, Philip V of Macedon was the best and worst of kings. He was a brilliant and benevolent monarch in his early years, the ‘darling of the Greeks’ and their protector against the Roman barbarians in the west. In his midtwenties, however, he took a sudden turn for the worse and transformed into a vicious, irrational, and fickle tyrant, pushing his successes too far and turning his allies and subjects against him. He was subsequently punished by Fortune for his crimes against men and gods, suffering defeat at the hands of the Romans and ultimately bringing about the downfall of the Macedonian royal house. He tragically fell into madness in his last years as his domestic policies ripped the Macedonian state apart and his sons plotted against each other, resulting in the execution of the younger. Polybius’ Philip is the ultimate tyrant, the destroyer of the Macedonian empire, the loser against Rome, and a warning against irrationality and passion. The ancient and modern historical tradition surrounding this Macedonian king is heavily dependent on, and indebted to, this ultimately negative and tragic picture of Philip V. Yet, even within his narrative Polybius acknowledges that others viewed and wrote about Philip in a more neutral and even positive light (Plb. 8.8). These opposing accounts do not survive though, and Polybius stands almost alone in the extant historical record of the middle Hellenistic period; we are left, therefore, to rely on his portrait of the king. While Polybius has long held a reputation for being one of the most reliable of the ancient Greek historians, his impression of the king is one-sided and contrived and an investigation of this portrait would not only redefine and advance our knowledge of Philip V, but also further the study of Polybius and his Histories. Through the analysis of the king’s portrait, we will be in a better position to understand the way that Polybius wrote, conceived, and constructed his Histories, and to appreciate the political, historiographical, literary, and ideological influences and agenda that informed this vast work. We might ‘read’ it, or parts of it, in a variety of ways beyond the historical: as apologia, diplomacy, and biography. It should be noted that while this volume intends to question our historical understanding of Philip V, it is not a historical biography. Frank Walbank’s 1940 (revised in 1960) treatise, Philip V of Macedon, remains the sole comprehensive historical investigation of Philip’s life and career from birth to death, although it is now outdated in a number of respects. There have been reconsiderations of various problems in subsequent years, as well as new work on the epigraphic, numismatic, and archaeological evidence relevant to him. This monograph,

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0001

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however, aims to contribute to the advancement of the study of Philip V from a historiographical and literary perspective.

Philip V and the Antigonid Dynasty Philip V (238–179 ), son of Demetrius II and Phthia, and successor to his uncle Antigonus III Doson, ruled Macedon from 221 to 179 .¹ He was the penultimate king of the Antigonid empire and the first Hellenistic king to come into conflict with Rome in its gradual penetration into the eastern Mediterranean at the end of the third and early second centuries . That clash had epoch-making implications. Philip is primarily remembered for his ill-fated confrontation with the Italian power and for causing (if indirectly) his kingdom’s defeat and destruction by Roman hands in the reign of his son, Perseus. He was the defeated power in the fight for supremacy in the Mediterranean and this fact has often left him an understudied and underrated individual, especially by those more interested in Rome’s success and development into a world power. Yet, despite the consequences of his reign, Philip can be credited as one of the most successful of his predecessors after Alexander the Great. He ruled for forty-two years, the longest ruling period of a Macedonian since Philip II, and, before Roman intervention, was also effective in re-establishing control over Greece and expanding Macedon beyond her traditional borders into Illyria, Thrace, and the Aegean. While the greater length and success of his reign may partly be due to stabilizing conditions in the Hellenistic world, as well as the dwindling number of suitable usurpers, both are remarkable feats considering the violent and volatile conditions of Hellenistic kingship. It would therefore be hard to believe that Philip could have been so long-lasting without possessing qualities that rendered him effective. Philip V was the sixth king of the Antigonid dynasty and the fourth to rule over the territory of ancient Macedonia. After the chaos of the Successor Wars, Antigonus II Gonatas (319–239 ; reigned 277–239 ) had finally gained control of the region in 276/5 .² He then defeated Pyrrhus at Argos (272 ), installed pro-Macedonian tyrants in Peloponnesian cities, gaining a valuable foothold in Greece, and successfully crushed resistance from Athens and Sparta in the Chremonidean War (263 ). In 243 , however, Aratus of Sicyon, a leading figure of the Achaean League, compromised the growing Macedonian ¹ For historical biographies of Philip V, see Walbank (1940) and D’Agostini (2019) for a re-evaluation of his early years until 212 . For Philip’s mother, see Tarn (1924) 17–23; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 338; Ogden (1999) 179–82; Carney (2000) 190–1; and D’Agostini (2019) 13–16. For Philip’s wife, see D’Agostini (2022) 45–64. ² For Antigonus II Gonatas (319–239 ) see Plb. 2.43–5, 9.29, 34, Plut. Life of Demetrius 39–40, 51, 53, Just. 17.2, 24.1, 25.1–3, 26.1–3. For scholarship on Gonatas, see Walbank (1984a) 221–55, (2002) 258–76; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 259–316; and Gabbert (1997) for a biography, and Waterfield (2021) for a fresh take on his life and context.

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presence in the Peloponnese by (re-)capturing the Acrocorinthus, a strategically important fortification controlling the Isthmus and access to the Peloponnese, and removing its Macedonian garrison. While this encouraged a number of Peloponnesian cities to defect and join the League, Macedon still retained influence throughout much of Greece. In 239 , after thirty-eight years on the throne and at the admirable age of 80, Antigonus Gonatas died leaving the kingdom to his son, Demetrius II Aetolicus (275–229 ; reigned 239–229 ). Demetrius only ruled for ten years, yet he was also successful in expanding Macedonian influence throughout Boeotia, Euboea, Magnesia, and Thessaly, despite the combined efforts of an Achaean–Aetolian alliance against him.³ He was killed in 229  fighting the Dardanians and left his 9-year-old son, Philip, and the rule of Macedonia under the guardianship of his cousin Antigonus III Doson. In the eight years that Doson (263–221 ; reigned 229–221 ) held the throne, he defeated the Dardanians, put down a rebellion in Thessaly, ended the conflict between Epirus and the Achaean League, and formed an agreement with the latter in 224 . In return for his military support against the Spartan king, Cleomenes, the Achaeans allowed him to reinstate a Macedonian presence in the Peloponnese by the repossession of the Acrocorinthus and by the establishment of the Symmachy (or Hellenic Alliance). Doson’s diplomatic and military skill proved vital in stabilizing Macedon’s strength, and it was into this period of growing security that Philip V came to power. Philip was only 17 when he succeeded his uncle,⁴ younger even than Alexander had been when he succeeded his father. Yet, despite his youth, Philip soon proved himself to be a competent and successful military commander, as well as a reliable partner and benefactor to his Greek allies. His early policies revolved around securing his position and influence in Macedonia and mainland Greece, and the Social War fought in aid of his Greek allies against the Aetolians (Plb. 4.26–37, 4.57–5.105; Just. 29.1). At the end of this war in 217 , having secured Greece to the South (Plb. 5.104–5; Just. 29.2–3), Philip was able to pursue his own ambitions of conquest. It was when his gaze turned west that he became embroiled in conflict with Rome; conflict which would eventually lead to the First and Second Macedonian Wars (211–205 and 200–196  respectively).⁵ After his defeat at ³ For Demetrius II Aetolicus, see Just 25.4, 26.2–3, 28.1–3; and also Treves (1932) 168–205, Walbank (1984b) 446–67, and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 317–36. For Antigonus III Doson, see Just. 28.3–4, 29.1; and Treves (1935) 381–411, Piraino (1952–3) 301–75, Welwei (1967) 306–14, Walbank (1984b) 446–67, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 337–64, and notably Le Bohec (1993) for a detailed biographical account. ⁴ Plb. 4.2.5, 4.5.3–4, Just. 28.4.16, 29.1.1. Justin’s claim that he was only 14 upon his accession is incorrect, as Philip was born in 238  and came to the throne in 221  (Plb. 4.2.5). See Fine (1934) 100 and Walbank HCP I 290, 450. For Philip’s family, ascent to power, and relationship with Doson, see D’Agostini (2019) 13–29, 39–41. ⁵ For the First Macedonian War, 211–205 : Plb. 9.18–11.7; Livy 26.24–29.10; App. Mac. 1–3. The Second Macedonian War, 200–196 : Plb. 16.27–18.48; Livy 31.1–33.35; App. Mac. 4–9.4, Just. 30.3–4.

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the battle of Cynoscephalae in 197, Philip’s relationship with Rome became more cooperative for a time as he aimed for the recovery of Macedonian strength and resources, even aiding the victors in their war against the Syrian king Antiochus III (Plb. 21.3; Livy 36.4–38.40; App. Mac. 9.5–6). In his later years, however, this friendship broke down as Philip aimed yet again for expansion, this time in Thrace and Dardania, and Rome tried to curtail his ambitions and movements. Relations finally worsened in 184 to such an extent that the king is said to have thought war inevitable and actively began preparations for the conflict (Plb. 22.13–14; Livy 39.35; App. Mac. 10). The king died, however, before war erupted and his son Perseus continued his father’s policies to recover the strength of Macedon and prepare for war against Rome (Plb. 22.18.10, 25.3.1, 25.6; Livy 40.57, 42.11, 42.48; cf. App. Mac. 11.1, 8, Just. 32.3–4). While the Macedonian–Roman relationship was stable at the beginning of Perseus’ reign, however, several years later it also turned hostile as the new king acquired widespread support throughout Greece and began to expand into territory belonging to Roman allies. The Third Macedonian War between Perseus and Rome, and the king’s defeat at Pydna in 168 (Plb. 29.17–18; Livy 44.42; Plut. Aem. 19; Just. 33), would mark the end of the Macedonian monarchy and the beginning of Roman control over the region.

Polybius of Megalopolis Much of our knowledge of Philip and this period comes from literary sources, the most important of these being Polybius of Megalopolis’ Histories. It is through Polybius’ narrative that we are presented with our fullest picture of the king and our own interpretations of him have been, and still are, greatly influenced by this reliance. While later authors reveal a few alternative perspectives and attitudes towards Philip V, those that survive also remain greatly indebted to Polybius’ largely negative account of him (see below for further details). Any consideration of the Macedonian king must therefore engage with this limitation. Polybius’ main objective in writing his Histories was to record how and by what means, in the space of fifty-three years, Rome reached a dominant position in the Mediterranean (Plb. 1.1.1; 3.1.4). It was a vast enterprise which took up forty books, covering the whole Mediterranean and, with the inclusion of his introduction to the period, extending over a hundred years. It is a work of great detail and careful deliberation. Its potentially unwieldy topic is handled with intelligence, producing a narrative with discernible unity and coherence. His original thirtybook plan intended to narrate events from 221, continuing from his predecessor Aratus’ narrative (4.2.1) and beginning with the succession of several new leaders to the world powers, up to the defeat of Macedon in 168  (3.1.9, 3.3.8–9). This event, in his mind, marked the end of Rome’s rise to power: she had destroyed the

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Carthaginian and Macedonian empires, the Seleucids were subdued, and Egypt was still relatively weak (3.2–3). However, Polybius decided to extend his narrative down to the destruction of Carthage and Corinth in 146 , adding another ten books to his already vast work (3.4). This continuation allowed him not only to cover events at which he himself was present (3.4.13; 4.2.2), but also to include a discussion about the consequences of this new hegemonic power and the correct ways to govern and rule an empire.⁶ It was composed almost contemporaneously with Philip (238–179 ) from about 150  onwards, and Polybius himself was an eyewitness to the defeat of Philip’s son Perseus in the Third Macedonian War in 168  (3.4.13). Polybius’ personal participation in events no doubt played a crucial role in shaping his treatment of the period and its extension, as well as influencing his understanding and interpretation of affairs and characters. Born, according to the most reliable estimate,⁷ in 208 or 200 , Polybius was a citizen of the prominent Arcadian city Megalopolis, located in the north-central Peloponnese and a member of the Achaean League from the third century  onwards.⁸ This confederation of Peloponnesian states Polybius describes in glowing terms in the introduction to his narrative (see Chapter 1) and claims was primarily concerned with maintaining independence and freedom from Macedonian and Roman control in the third and second centuries  (Plb. 2.37.9–11). The historian came from a wealthy, politically active family and he himself records how his father Lycortas served as strategos, the highest office of the Achaean League, and was involved in the League’s dealings with Rome from 187  onwards.⁹ From his youth, Polybius was equally enmeshed in Achaean politics and in 170/69 , at around the age of 30, was elected to the second-highest office of the League, hipparchos (28.6.9). It was during this term of office, however, that Perseus was defeated by the Romans and the Macedonian kingdom was broken up and placed under Roman control. This defeat affected Polybius personally, alongside a thousand other proMacedonian or neutral Achaeans, as he was deported to Rome as a hostage to ensure the compliance of the Achaean League.¹⁰ Polybius’ political career was cut short. Yet he did not allow this turn of fate to force him into a life of inactivity. ⁶ For a discussion of the nature, purpose, and date of composition of the continuation of Polybius’ original plan and its relation to wider ancient historiography, see Walbank (1985c) 325–43 and Mehl (2013) 25–48. ⁷ The evidence for Polybius’ birth is unfortunately indecisive. See ‘Polybius’ by Thornton (2012) in the EAH. Some scholars believe he was born as early as 208–207 : Pédech (1961) 145–56 puts his birth as early as 208 , Musti (1965) 381–2 in 205, Dubuisson (1980) 72–82 in 208; Ferrary (1988) 283 n. 69 in 207. Others place it closer to 200: Cuntz (1902) 20–1, 75–6; Ziegler (1952) 1445–6; Walbank HCP I 1–6 (1959) 1 n. 1 and (1972) 6–7; and Eckstein (1992) 387–406. ⁸ For an overview of Polybius’ life, works, and legacy, see Dreyer (2011) and Nicholson (2022); for more detailed exploration of his background, education, and political activities, see Thornton (2020b). ⁹ Cf. Plb. 2.40; 22.3, 12–16; 23.12, 16–17; 24.6, 10; 28.3–6; 29.23–25; 36.13; 37.5. ¹⁰ Cf. Plb. 30.13.6–11, 32.1–12; 31.2, 11–15; 32.3.14–17; 33.1.3–8, 3, 14; Livy 45.31.9; Paus. 7.10.11–12. For an overview of his detainment, see Erskine (2012) 17–32.

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He was fortunate enough to remain within the city and soon made lifelong connections with a number of prominent Romans, most notably the victor at Pydna, Publius Scipio Aemilianus, son of Lucius Aemilianus Paullus, and his circle (Plb. 31.23–4, 29.8).¹¹ It was probably during his internment that Polybius began his vast historical enterprise. Having gained the trust of the current generation of Roman political leaders, Polybius held a prestigious position which not only afforded him access to Greek and Roman sources for his Histories, but also enabled him to collect information from eyewitness accounts and public records, and explore the geographical features of prominent sites and locations by extensive travel.¹² He was a mentor and companion of Scipio Aemilianus in his travels to North Africa, Spain, and Gaul (Plb. 3.59.7), crossing the Alps (Plb. 3.48.12), and even standing by the Roman’s side at the destruction of Carthage in 146 (Plb. 38.21–2).¹³ He may also have sailed alone beyond the Pillars of Gibraltar into the Atlantic, perhaps visiting Britain (Plb. 34.15.7; Pliny Nat. Hist. 5.9, for Britain see Plb. 34.10.7), and to Alexandria and Sardis, although the dates of these two latter trips are uncertain (Alexandria 34.14.6; Sardis 21.38.7). Following the destruction of Corinth, Polybius personally facilitated the political settlement of Greece under Rome and received multiple civic honours from his native city and a number of others in the Peloponnese (Plb. 39.5.4; Paus. 8.9.1f.; 8.37.1f.; 8.30.8; 8.44.5; 8.48.8).¹⁴ Work on his Histories continued until the end of his life. He died around 118  after falling from a horse at the age of 82 (Ps.-Lucian, Macrobioi, 23; cf. Plb. 3.39.8 with a reference to the Via Domitia laid down in 118 ).¹⁵ While Polybius remains our most important source for the period, one of the primary issues with his account is that the majority of it is fragmentary. Of the original forty books, only Books 1–5 survive in their entirety, Books 17 and 40 are

¹¹ The existence of the Scipionic Circle, an intellectual philhellenic group which contributed substantially towards the spread of Greek culture in Rome, has long been a controversial issue. For those who have accepted its existence as real, see Gruen (1968) 17, Christ (1984) 92–102, Ferrary (1988) 589–602, and Dreyer (2006) 81–3. The tide is running, however, with those who see the Circle as a literary device providing a historical framework for the dialogue between Greece and Rome: see Strasburger (1966) 60–72, Astin (1967) 294–306, Zetzel (1972) 176–7, and Forsythe (1991) 363 and Sommer (2013) 307–18. ¹² See Walbank (1972) 74–7 for Polybius’ role in this community. For the freedom accorded to Polybius to research and travel, see Mioni (1949) 13, Walbank HCP I 4–9 and (1972) 76, Pédech (1964) 524–5, Champion (2004) 17 and McGing (2010) 140, who claim that he was allowed to move around Italy and to the west with Scipio before his detention had ended. For views asserting he was more restricted in his movements before his release in 150, see Cuntz (1902) 55–6 and Erskine (2012) 28–30. ¹³ Walbank HCP II 382. ¹⁴ Honorific portraits and statues were erected at Cleitor, the shrine of Despoina at Lycosoura, Mantinea, Megalopolis, at Olympia by the Eleans, Pallantium, and Tegea. Cf. Henderson (2001) 29–49; Ma (2013) 279–84. ¹⁵ Cf. n. 7 above for the issue of Polybius’ birth. Dubuisson (1980) objects to the use of both Ps.Lucian and Plb. 3.39.8, referring to the Via Domitia, as evidence for the chronology of Polybius’ life. Eckstein (1992) 387–406 convincingly refutes Dubuisson’s arguments and stands by 118  for Polybius’ death.

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completely lost, and the remaining thirty-three are fragmentary to varying degrees.¹⁶ This poses considerable problems when we wish to speak about the content of the latter books and the historian’s development of narrative, characters, and themes. In our case, we are fortunate to have a complete account of Philip V’s early years up to 216  in Books 4 and 5; yet, while we have a reasonable amount of narrative material until his death in Book 25, the accounts of many important events of his life (for instance his pact with Antiochus III in 203 and the details of his last years) are entirely lost and must be inferred from other passages in the Histories or supplemented by the work of others. Nonetheless, as will be discussed in the next chapter, Book 2 and the description of the Achaean League contained within it prove useful in understanding Polybius’ attitude towards and depiction of Macedon and Philip.

Further Historiographical, Literary, and Documentary Evidence for Philip V Certain areas of Polybius’ Histories can be supplemented by other ancient works. The most notable and helpful of these is Livy’s Ab Urbe Condita. Livy (64/59 – 17) recorded the history of Rome from its earliest beginnings to the historian’s own time in 142 books, yet only a quarter of this vast work remains to us today. We are, however, fortunate that Livy’s account between 211 and 167  (Books 26–41), the second half of Philip’s reign and that of his son, is part of what survives, and he used Polybius’ Histories extensively as a source for these events. Despite certain Greek and Macedonian affairs being greatly compressed and temporally displaced when Rome has little involvement in them (for example, Philip’s Aegean campaign in the years 205–201), Livy’s history helps us to check Polybius’ account when they do overlap (for instance, in the recording of the battle of Cynoscephalae) and fills in important fragmentary or missing episodes, and at times almost quotes Polybius verbatim (for instance, the defection of the Achaean League to Rome in 198  and the dispute between Perseus and Demetrius).¹⁷ Livy will prove to be a useful supplement to Polybius’ account in the following investigation, therefore, particularly in Chapters 3 and 6 in reconstructing the historical events leading up to and during the Second Macedonian War and the end of Philip’s life.

¹⁶ For the manuscript tradition of Polybius, see Moore (1965) and Sacks (1981) 11–20. ¹⁷ For Livy’s use of Polybius’ narrative for Greek events in Books 31–45 and his careful adaptation and rearrangement of it for his own literary purposes see especially Tränkle (1977) and (2009) 476–95, and Briscoe (2013) 117–24. This view is in opposition to the older tradition that Livy was ‘careless and casual in his scrutiny of his sources’, advocated e.g. by Walsh (1958) 355–75. See also Eckstein (2015) 407–22 for his preference for Polybius over Roman annalists.

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The work of the first/second-century  biographer Plutarch will also be helpful for our investigation of Polybius’ portrayal of the Achaean League, its leaders, and their early relationship with the Macedonian king. Plutarch’s Aratus is our only other surviving literary source besides Polybius’ Histories to describe (and celebrate) the career of the Achaean politician, Aratus of Sicyon, who oversaw the re-admittance of Macedonian influence into the Peloponnese in 224  and who later became an important figure at Philip V’s court.¹⁸ While we must be cautious when using Plutarch’s Lives for historical purposes and recognize that his aim was to illustrate character rather than preserve historical accuracy, his account provides a counterbalance to Polybius’ biased and selective account of Aratus and reveals, as we will explore, a great deal about the Megalopolitan historian’s workings and the extent to which politics affects the portraits of individuals in his Histories.¹⁹ Plutarch’s Aratus and Aemilius Paullus also supply some brief information on Philip and Macedon and are excellent examples of how different interpretations of one character can be produced by the same author in two different contexts. Plutarch’s picture of Philip V in his Aratus is highly negative and rests on the more disreputable parts of Polybius’ account of the king (Plut. Arat. 46–54: his attempt on Messene, his change into a lascivious man and pernicious tyrant, and his poisoning of Aratus), but the Philip that is sketched in the Aemilius Paulus is far more positive and almost entirely free of negativity (7–8: Plutarch relates the high hopes Philip inspired in Greece and Macedonia, his humble posture after his defeat by Rome, and his cleverness in preparing for war against Rome in his later years). The different perspectives and literary requirements of these two Lives are what changes the picture of Philip in them: in the Aratus, the eponymous hero is killed by Philip and so the ultimate image of the king needs to be that of a villain; in the Aemilius Paulus Philip is mentioned in a more positive way to heighten the incompetence of his son, Perseus, who has recently been defeated by Aemilius Paulus. While Polybius’ depiction of Philip is far more complex than Plutarch’s and focused more on historical accuracy and completeness, we will see through the course of this volume that he too shapes the king’s character in similar ways to support his own wider political leanings, rhetorical arguments, and interpretation of historical events. Other authors such as Alcaeus of Messene, Diodorus of Sicily, Appian of Alexandria, Justin, and Joannes Zonaras also supply literary material relating to ¹⁸ Koster (1937), Porter (1937), and Manfredini, Orsi, & Antelami (1987) offer historical commentaries for this Life. See also Pelling (2002) 288–91 and Stadter (2015) 161–75 for historiographical discussions. ¹⁹ Some scholars still consider Plutarch a historian, however, as his work is generally closer to historiography than encomia or biographical novels; cf. Wardman (1974) 1–18 and Pelling (2002) 147–52. For Plutarch’s adaptation of source material, see Pelling (2002) 91–106, 143–70, as well as Russell (1971/2001) 100–16 and Wardman (1974) 1–37, 153–89 for his attitude towards truth, fiction, and his manipulation of his narrative. For Plutarch’s construction of character, see Wardman (1974) 105–44.

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Philip V and Macedon, although with the exception of Alcaeus (who was a contemporary of Philip) their works were composed much later than the events recorded, and Polybius’ influence is often quite plain. Alcaeus (late third to early second centuries ) is our earliest literary source for the king with five of his twenty-two surviving epigrams directly addressing Philip.²⁰ While the poetic genre and hostile nature of these poems make historical use of them problematic, they do on occasion offer additional details that have not survived in Polybius’ or Livy’s works (for instance, Philip’s attack on the Thracians) and are helpful in elucidating contemporary Greek attitudes towards Philip V, his pursuit of expansion (see Anth. Pal. 9.518), and his conflict with Rome (see Anth. Pal. 5). The Macedonian king also features in the immense universal history of Diodorus, although the portion of the work that pertains to the third and second centuries  and Philip is greatly fragmented (for Philip see 25.18; 28.1–12, 15; 29.16, 25–30; 30.5; 31.8) and the few surviving excerpts pertaining to the king are brief and clearly derivative of Polybius.²¹ The same is true of Appian’s portrait of Philip in his Macedonian Wars (recording the events between 215 and 167 ), which again survives in a pitiful state.²² For the Punic, Macedonian, and Syrian wars, Polybius’ Histories was a key source (cf. the reference to the Hellenistic historian at Pun. 132.628–31), although Appian also had access to other sources (cf. the Sibylline books at Mac. 2) and tempered Polybius’ hostile view of Philip with a more neutral one.²³ Justin’s epitome of Pompeius Trogus’ voluminous first-century  history of the Macedonian monarchy (Historiae Philippicae et totius mundi origines et terrae situs) remains a valuable text for its continuous if brief description of the complicated period after Alexander’s death. Polybius was also a source for Trogus/ Justin in recording the third and second century,²⁴ yet his depiction of Philip differs markedly in that the king is presented in a far more favourable and active

²⁰ These five epigrams were written between 219 and 196 and include Anth. Pal. 7.247, 9.518, 9.519, 11.12, 16.5 and 16.6. For discussion of his epigrams on Philip V, their tone and meaning, see De Sanctis (1923) 1, 9; Walbank (1942) 134–45 and (1943) 1–13; Momigliano (1942) 53–64 = (1984) 431–46; Edson (1948) 116–21; Gutzwiller (2007) 117; and Jones (2014) 136–51. ²¹ See Eckstein (1987b) 332–4 and (1995b) 225–9, 232, 268 n. 117, Sacks (1990) 33–54, and Baronowski (2011) 108–13 for Diodorus’ use and adaptation of Polybius’ work. For a comparison of their working methodologies in writing universal history, see Sheridan (2010) 41–55, Sulimani (2011) ch. 1, and Hau (2016) 73–123. ²² For an investigation of Appian’s account of Philip V, see D’Agostini (2011) 99–121; for his account of the Macedonian wars, see Meloni (1955); for Appian’s use and adaptation of Polybius in his Syriake see Rich (2015) 65–124; and for his account of the Third Punic War and relationship with Polybius, see McGing (2018) 341–56. ²³ FRH 46. ²⁴ Just. 29.1.1–8 closely parallels Polybius’ statement at 3.2.4–11 that all the kingdoms of the world underwent change at this time, 29.3.1 corresponds to Polybius’ ‘clouds in the west’ speech at 5.104, and 30.4.12 preserves Polybius’ observations about Philip’s youth, although places it much later in the mouth of Flamininus at Cynoscephalae (Plb. 4.2, 3, 5, 22, 24, 77).

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light.²⁵ Justin’s epitome preserves, therefore, the vestiges of a lost tradition from the first century  that was far more positive towards Philip V.²⁶ This only reinforces how much Philip’s ancient and modern legacy is beholden to the negative and politically loaded image of the king produced by Polybius, and why reassessment of this portrait is so necessary. Yet, like Diodorus and Appian, Justin’s contribution to the historical reconstruction of Philip V is limited (28.3–4, 29.1–31.1, 32.2–4): his epitome is extremely condensed, lacks detail and omits, for example, the distinction between the First and Second Macedonian Wars, Philip’s campaign in the Aegean, and his cooperation with Rome in their war against Antiochus III. The final literary source to contain information about Philip V is Zonaras’ twelfth-century  Epitome of Histories. Much of his account of the history of the Roman Republic is derived from the lost Roman History of Cassius Dio, which seems to have contained a reasonably detailed account of the period. Yet again, while Philip V’s interactions with Rome are preserved in Books 8 and 9 of Zonaras, there is little to add to the earlier accounts of Polybius and Livy. Because of their reliance on Polybius and limited contribution to the history of Philip, the works of these later authors will take only a cursory role in the following investigation. In addition to the literary sources, over the last fifty years there has also been an increasing amount of epigraphic and numismatic evidence relating to Philip V coming to light. In terms of the study of the epigraphic material, the survival of a number of Philip’s letters and diagrammata allows us an invaluable glimpse into the king’s self-presentation as a beneficent and pious monarch, his mediations with and between cities and Macedonian agents, as well as his military, economic, and religious policies, and family.²⁷ The second volume of ²⁵ It is Philip, for instance, who urges the Greeks to follow him on a Panhellenic venture against Rome at Naupactus, not Agelaus (29.2.8–3.5); the Romans are said to be wary of Philip because they recognize the ancient valour of the Macedonians and the new king’s energy and ambition (29.3); the responsibility for starting the war falls onto the Romans who, it is said, keep trying to find a pretence to attack Philip (30.3.1, 6); and the Macedonian and Roman armies appear far more evenly matched in the battle of Cynoscephalae in 197  (30.4) See D’Agostini (2015) 121–44 for further discussion of Philip V in Justin. ²⁶ See also Polybius’ own acknowledgement of a more positive view of Philip V at Plb. 8.8.3–6. ²⁷ The letters include: Philip’s mediation between the city of Mylasa and his agent Olympichus (I. Labraunda 4, 5, and 7; Hatzopoulos (2014) 107–10; and D’Agostini (2019) 152–4); his confirmation to the citizens of Aenus in Amphipolis of his support for Aenian exiles (Hatzopoulos (1996) II 30–1, no. 9); his intervention in citizenship reforms in Larissa (Syll.³ 543 = IG IX 2, 517; cf. Lolling (1882) 61–76; Robert & Mommsen (1882) 467–83; Hannick (1968) 97–104; Bertrand (1985) 469–81; Habicht (2006) 67–75, Oetjen (2010) 237–54; Hatzopoulos (2014) 99–120; Mari & Thornton (2016) 139–95; and D’Agostini (2019) 147–51); his economic and political concessions to the Abaeans, Nisyriens, and Amphipolitans (Syll.³ 552, Syll.³ 572, and SEG 46 (1996) 716 respectively); his religious observances in his correspondence with the Athenians at Hephaistia on Lemnus (SEG 12 399. Robert BE (1944) no. 150; (1953) no. 162; Fraser & McDonald (1952) 81–3; cf. Gastaldi & Mari (2019) 193–224), and with the Panamarians (I. Stratonikeia 3) and the Chalcidians (I. Magnesia 47); his letter to Dium endorsing the asylia of Cyzicus (SEG 48 785; Hatzopoulos (1996) II no. 32, who dates it to 180 , contra Rigsby (1996) 342 who dates the asylia of Cyzicus to c.200 ); and his fulfilment of the demands of his Macedonian citizen-soldiers at Eviestes (Hatzopoulos (1996) II 41–2, no. 17) and Rhodes (Meadows

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Hatzopoulos’ Macedonian Institutions under the Kings (1996) remains a reliable collection of known inscriptions for the Macedonian kings, including those for Philip V, and Le Bohec (1996) helpfully supplies a survey of the inscriptions specifically pertaining to Philip.²⁸ These studies have also been supplemented in recent years by a series of articles by Hatzopoulos on military regulations, decision-making vocabulary, the ephebic law at Amphipolis, Manuela Mari on local and national cults in Macedonian royal letters and diagrammata, city institutions of pre-Roman Macedonia, and Antigonid chancery activity, and D’Agostini on Philip’s military code.²⁹ Such analyses have proven fruitful in outlining the intricacies of the Hellenistic Macedonian monarchic system, the relationships between the king and associated cities and people, and have ultimately shown Philip to be a zealous and organized administrator looking to secure a stable and prosperous future for his kingdom.³⁰ Accompanying this growing collection of epigraphic material on Philip V is a sizeable hoard of silver and bronze coinage, showing a preferred connection with Athena Alcidemus, Zeus, and Perseus among other deities, heroes, and images, and associated scholarship. The most comprehensive studies of Philip’s coinage remain those by Mamroth in the 1930s, although Burrer’s 2009 study offers a more detailed analysis and die study of Philip’s silver tetradrachms. Kleu has also more recently reassessed the imagery and significance of the coin hoard found at Selci in 1880 for Philip’s activities in Lissus and Scodra, D’Agostini has discussed Philip’s celebration of his victory at Thermum in 218  with bronze coinage, and Kremydi has investigated the minting of non-regal, ‘autonomous’ coinage by the Macedonians, Botteatai, and Amphaxians in the reigns of Philip V and Perseus.³¹

(1996) 251–65). The surviving diagrammata reveal concern for military regulations (Hatzopoulos (2001) 151–3, nos. 1.1 and 1.2; (1996) II 153–65, nos. 2.1, 2.2, 3; and (2016a) 203–16; and D’Agostini (2019) 48–55), for the registration of athletes in competitions at gymnasia (Hatzopoulos (1996) II 40–1, no. 16.), for the proper treatment of religious property at Thessalonica (Hatzopoulos (1996) II 39–40, no. 15), and for the preservation of tradition in requiring the Hunters of Heracles Cynagidas to wear traditional attire (SEG 56 625). For the identification of Polycratia as Philip’s queen, see I. Stratonikeia 3; Cousin, BCH 28 (1904) 345–6, no. 1; Holleaux, BCH 28 (1904) 354–6, no. 1; BE (1906) 48; BE (1952) 3; and D’Agostini (2022) 45–64 for discussion. Note also a new assessment of Philip’s dedication at Lindos following a successful attack on the Dardanians (and perhaps Maedians) recorded in the Lindian Chronicle (Blinkenberg (1941) no. 42, ll. 127–131; Higbie (2003) no. 42, ll. 127–131) by Iliev (2021) 74–82. ²⁸ Argyro Tataki’s Macedonians Abroad (1998) also offers a valuable contribution to the limited prosopographical work on Macedonia. ²⁹ See Hatzopoulos (2000) 825–40; (2001); (2009) 47–55; (2013) 61–70; (2014) 99–120; (2015–16) 145–71; (2016a) 203–13; (2016b); Mari (1999) 627–49; (2006) 209–25; (2008) 219–66; (2017) 345–64, and (2018) 283–311, and D’Agostini (2019) 147–56. ³⁰ Bertrand (1985) 469–82, O’Neil (2000) 424–31, and Ma (2002) 115–22 and (2003) 177–95 have, for instance, used epigraphic evidence concerning diplomatic affairs to explore the relationship between the Hellenistic kings and the Greek cities, and offered a greater understanding of the processes involved in these interactions and their negotiatory nature. ³¹ Mamroth (1930) 277–303 and (1935) 219–51; Burrer (2009) 1–10; Kleu (2015) 63–8; Kremydi (2018); and D’Agostini (2019) 87–91, and figs. 3–5. For earlier discussions of the Selci coin hoard, see Evans (1880) 269–80; May (1946) 54 n. 36; Hammond (1968) 18, (1988b) 399, 409; and Eckstein (2008)

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For a preliminary investigation of the differing picture of Philip in both the literary and epigraphic records, Hatzopoulos’ 2014 article offers an excellent beginning and highlights a striking disparity of presentation in the two types of sources. D’Agostini’s 2019 analysis of Philip’s early years also offers the first synthesis of the documentary evidence into a coherent narrative while contesting historiographical claims.

The State of the Field: Philip V For over half a century, Walbank’s monograph Philip V of Macedon (1940 and revised in 1960) has been the most comprehensive and influential historical study of the Macedonian king. For decades after this ground-breaking treatise, Philip V received only cursory attention within broader historical works focused on the rise of Rome and Roman imperialism, or more narrowly in articles dealing with specific questions of chronology and foreign and domestic policy.³² This limited attention was in part due to the fact that the Antigonid monarchs have consistently been overshadowed by the study of their predecessors (Philip II and Alexander the Great) and the other Hellenistic kingdoms (the Ptolemies, Seleucids, and Attalids), a consequence of the scarcity of surviving source material pertaining to them and a prevailing perception of their insignificance. While the Antigonids were key players in the eastern Mediterranean from the fourth to second centuries  and considered one of the key imperial structures of the Hellenistic age by ancient sources at the time (e.g. Plb. 1.2; although condemned and ignored by the Romans), they have often been considered little different in their ruling style and imperial strategies from the Argeads by modern scholars, and therefore, of limited interest, particularly in the face of the more obviously different forms of kingship seen in the Ptolemaic and Seleucid monarchic systems. This attitude, however, obscures the impact and complexity of this dynasty in the context of the ancient Mediterranean and assumes a static nature to Macedonian rulership; it denies these rulers agency, intelligence, and innovation; it ignores the kingdom’s crucial role in shaping the post-Alexander world. 87 n. 38. For the celebration of Philip’s victory at Thermum in coinage, see also Mamroth (1935) no. 4; Head (1911) 232–4; and Walbank (1940) 42. See also Panagopoulou (2021) for a new study of the coinage of the early Antigonids; Merker (1960) 39–52 for the coinage of Antigonus Gonatas and Antigonus Doson; Dahmen (2010) 41–62 and Kremydi (2011) 159-78 for surveys of coinage in ancient Macedonia; and Prokopov (2012) for the silver coinage of the Macedonians by region. See also a new project begun in 2020, The Antigonid Coins Online (). ³² For chronology see Berthold (1975) 150–63. For foreign policy see e.g. Gruen (1973) 123–36 discussing the alleged alliance between Philip and Rome; Fine (1936) 99–104 and Oost (1959) 158–64 for his policies in Illyria; Errington (1971) 336–54, Thompson (1971) 615–20, Walbank (1993) 1721–30 = (2002) 127–36, Meadows (1996) 251–65 and Eckstein (2005) 228–42 for his policies in the Aegean and Caria. For his domestic policies, see Gruen (1974) 221–46, Piejko (1983) 225–6, and Oetjen (2010) 237–54.

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This perception is in the process of being revised, however, and the Antigonid monarchs are being recognized as more deserving of focused treatment in their own right. Since the evidence for Philip V is more plentiful and coherent than for other Antigonid rulers, he has been the starting point for this reassessment.³³ Alongside work by Hatzopoulos and Mari on the epigraphical material (see previous section), two new volumes devoted to Philip have recently been published. In 2015, Kleu published the first comprehensive study of Philip V’s sea policy and explored in detail the development of his naval strategies, the size and composition of his fleet, his use of small Illyrian vessels called lemboi as a standard unit in a fleet for both transport and war (which would inspire Antiochus III and Rome to do the same and begin the gradual shift away from larger warships internationally), and its financing until his defeat by Rome.³⁴ D’Agostini’s 2019 treatment of Philip V’s accession and leadership in the early years of his reign (221–211 ) also offers an important re-evaluation of this king and Antigonid rule. Combining literary and documentary evidence, she reveals a significant shift in the relationship between king, council, and army in the first decade of Philip’s reign, a transition to charismatic leadership, less reliance on the landed nobility, and an increased personal focus on military, economic, and religious administration.

The State of the Field: Polybius Since Polybius’ Histories is the primary literary source for Philip V, recent developments in Polybian scholarship also mean that there are now new avenues of investigation on the king from a historiographical and literary perspective. Since the middle of the last century, scholars have become increasingly aware of the complex political, didactic, and historiographical factors that shape the seemingly smooth and uncontroversial narrative of the Histories and have grown more cautious about taking Polybius’ work and impression of the world too much at face-value. While Polybius is still generally deemed to be one of the more reliable ancient Greek historians, the influence of his political leanings and biases towards certain individuals and peoples has long been observed to have a significant impact on the shaping of his work: Karen Haegemans and Elizabeth Kosmetatou have demonstrated, for instance, how patriotism colours Polybius’ depiction of his homeland, the Achaean League, and its leaders; Walbank and ³³ Demetrius Poliorcetes has also seen a surge of interest and new study; see e.g. Rose (2018) 258–87 and (2019) 169–90; Kuzmin (2019) 59–84; and the monograph Wheatley & Dunn (2020). Antigonus II Gonatas has received fresh attention in a new volume by Waterfield (2021). ³⁴ See also Kleu (2016) 559–68 for Philip V and gift-giving and friendship; Hatzopoulos (2016a) 203–16, Kleu (2017) 112–19, (2019a) 217–35, and (2019b) 107–21 for his military strategy; Iliev (2022) 125–35 for Philip’s relations with the Thracians.

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Craige Champion have shown how his assessment of various states and individuals in the Histories is closely connected with their relationship with the League; and John Thornton has recently highlighted how his Achaean and Megalopolitan perspective, and not a Romano-centric one, impacts his view of Peloponnesian matters and the Antigonid kings.³⁵ This politically influenced interpretation of events and people has significant consequences for the portrait of both Macedon and Philip V, as we will see in the course of this volume, who begin as allies and benefactors of the Achaean League in the Histories but end as enemies.³⁶ Champion’s Cultural Politics in Polybius’s Histories added a new dimension to Polybian studies in 2004 by exploring how Polybius uses cultural politics and the notions of Hellenism and barbarism to assimilate and alienate the Romans and other Mediterranean peoples to/from the Greek community in the course of his narrative.³⁷ Álvaro Moreno Leoni expanded on this topic in 2017 by showing how the complexity of Polybius’ conception of the barbarian and the ambiguity of the Roman position relates specifically to his didactic intentions, his construction of Greek memory and identity, and his own self-representation.³⁸ My own earlier work in this area, as well as this volume, continue the discussion by exploring Polybius’ portrayal of the Macedonians kings in cultural-political terms and his creation of an ideological explanation for the changing hegemonic powers in the Greek world.³⁹ The importance of recognizing the political and rhetorical context of the Histories has also been persuasively argued by John Thornton. In 2013, Thornton observed that Polybius used his work to create a dialogue between the Greeks and the Romans, between subordinates and hegemon, producing a ‘public transcript’ of historical events which adheres to the dominant power’s narrative, while also speaking to power in highlighting the problems of the Graeco-Roman relationship following Rome’s conquest of the eastern Mediterranean.⁴⁰ This line of enquiry was expanded in 2020 with an important monograph, Polibio: il politico

³⁵ Haegemans & Kosmetatou (2005) 123–39. For Polybius’ assessment of others based on their relationship with the Achaean League, see e.g. Walbank (2002) 91–5 (on the Macedonian kings) and Champion (2004) 100–69 (on Rome). See Thornton (2020a) 299–309 for Polybius’ Greek, and specifically Achaean and at times even Megalopolitan, perspective. ³⁶ Such bias even extends to Polybius’ choice and interpretation of sources: Meadows (2013) 91–116, Lenfant (2005) 183–204, Wiemer (2013) 279–306, and Dreyer (2013a) 201–12 have demonstrated how Polybius’ use of his source material depended not only on their availability and his assessment of their reliability and truthfulness, but also on his political preferences and how well they fitted with and supported his overall interpretation and historiographical scheme. ³⁷ For the Romans as barbarians or semi-barbarians in Polybius, see also Erskine (2000b) 165–82 and (2013a) 115–29, and Champion (2000) 425–44 and (2018) 35–42. ³⁸ Moreno Leoni (2017), see also (2020) 4–39 on Greek and Roman perceptions of philanthropia. ³⁹ Nicholson (2020) 38–73. ⁴⁰ Thornton (2013) 213–29. Note also Wiater (2018) 131–65 on Polybius’ participation in contemporary politics through his discussion of the causes of the Second Punic War in Book 3, and Nicholson (2021) 152–56 for Polybius’ role as a political agent and use of his Histories for political discussion and education.

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e lo storico, which returns Polybius more fully to his political context. This volume explores Polybius’ biography, education, and attachment to the Achaean League, and investigates how political objectives and oratorical strategies are intrinsically and consistently interwoven into his historical composition. Polybius’ Histories are shown to be imbued with a judicial quality, more than an objectively truthful or moral one, and the work becomes a space in which Polybius is able to create his own official version of Achaean political history and to defend and ameliorate the League’s wavering relationship with Rome. This political and oratorical dimension reframes earlier unresolved debates about Polybius’ relationship with Rome, and any inconsistencies in his moral approach and polemical digressions. The present volume contributes to this political direction in Polybian studies and observes that much of Philip V’s portrait in the Histories is dependent on and influenced by Polybius’ political attachments and rhetorical strategies. This political dimension, while important, should also not obscure the place of moral didacticism in the Histories. Polybius’ moral stance was disputed in the twentieth century by André Aymard, Paul Pédech, and Walbank;⁴¹ however, Arthur Eckstein’s 1995 volume, Moral Vision in the Histories of Polybius, and Lisa Hau’s chapter on Polybius in her 2016 volume Moral History from Herodotus to Diodorus Siculus have demonstrated that Polybius attached a strong practical importance to moral behaviour in politics and war, and both practical and moral concerns are a key part of his educational programme.⁴² While the political dimension of the Histories at times throws up inconsistencies in arguments pertaining to moral behaviour, not taking the moral considerations of the Histories seriously would be a mistake.⁴³ Polybius adhered to and promoted Greek aristocratic values, and these were in his opinion still the benchmark of decent Hellenic behaviour. In 2020, Daniel Walker Moore added to this reassessment of Polybius’ didactic views and approach by exploring the relationship between experience and history in the Histories and the historian’s conception of their value and how they contribute to the education of the reader.⁴⁴ The present volume continues this debate by examining not only how Polybius uses Philip in his moral and practical educational programme, but also how the historian’s didactic intentions shape the portrait of a key figure in the Histories. Polybius’ use of teleology and contingency has equally received substantial discussion from the twentieth century onwards. It has been widely accepted that the Histories is affected by a teleological framework, and this is an underlying ⁴¹ They believed that Polybius was not so much concerned with a moral agenda, but rather with expounding rational, practical, and Machiavellian principles of political conduct. Cf. Aymard (1940) 9–19; Pédech (1964); Walbank (1965) 8–11 and (1972) 173, 178–81 and (1974) 9–13, 23, 27–8. See also Sacks (1981) 136; McGing (2010); and Maier (2012b). ⁴² Cf. Gibson (2018) 75–102 for analysis of Polybius’ use of praise in the Histories and Nicholson (2018c) 434–53 for this moral agenda in Polybius’ discussion of the laws of war in his account of Philip’s actions at Thermum and Messene. ⁴³ Cf. Thornton (2020b) 200–1. ⁴⁴ Cf. Moore (2020).

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element in any discussion involving Polybius’ ‘universal history’ and the attribution of Rome’s rise to the work of tyche.⁴⁵ Yet, this literary feature has only recently received concentrated treatment with Jonas Grethlein’s exploration of the narratological intricacies and difficulties that arise from the use of such a methodology.⁴⁶ Of particular note is the development of strong discrepancies between the historian’s account and the past as it would have been experienced by the characters; the work’s experiential quality is compromised by Polybius’ urge to explain the causes of each event in accordance with his didactic aims which can lead to serious misconceptions in the reader.⁴⁷ Yet, while this teleological understanding of Polybius’ work still remains strong in scholarship, Felix Maier in his 2012 volume Überall mit dem Unerwarteten rechnen: Die Kontingenz historischer Prozesse bei Polybius introduced an equally important but alternative perspective. He argues that Polybius did not in fact see the past as teleological, but rather as contingent, and that his Histories are constructed around this perspective.⁴⁸ While, Maier claims, Polybius frequently used patterns and cycles as didactic tools to explain to his readers how events came about—which would support a teleological or deterministic view of the past—Polybius counters this feature by emphasizing the unpredictability and contingency of the past throughout his work.⁴⁹ These two different approaches, Maier argues, work in tandem to promote Polybius’ educational aim of teaching leaders of men how to achieve their goals through planning and consideration of what happened in the past, while also preparing for and adapting to unexpected events and changes of fortune. Although somewhat controversial, Maier’s work has rightly brought out the importance of the contingent and unexpected in Polybius, and any study of the Histories must take note of its peculiar combination of determinism and contingency.⁵⁰ An important literary turn in Polybian scholarship has also emerged over the past three decades. It began with James Davidson and his 1991 article ‘The Gaze of Polybius’ Histories’ which drew on the narratological models developed by Gérard Genette and Mieke Bal to highlight the significance of perception in the Histories, both of the readers in terms of establishing their expectations and of the historical agents whose actions are dictated by their understanding of events.⁵¹ A decade later, Nikos Miltsios demonstrated, through a close reading of Polybius’ account ⁴⁵ See e.g. Alonso-Núñez (1990) 187, Walbank (1994) 28–42 = (2002) 245–57, Dreyer (2011) 91–2, Maier (2012a) 144–68, Hau (2013) 73–4, and Pelling (2013) 9–11. See also Walbank (1972) 68–9; Eckstein (2008) 132–8 for the specific structuring of events to produce a teleological perspective. ⁴⁶ See Grethlein (2013) 224–67. ⁴⁷ Grethlein (2013) 233–42. ⁴⁸ Maier (2012a) 144–68 and (2012b). ⁴⁹ Cf. Maier (2013) 149–70 for counterfactual thinking. ⁵⁰ See also Maier (2018) 55–74 for the use of the analogies of entropy and emergence to consider Polybius’ world-view and understanding of historical causation. ⁵¹ Davidson (1991) 10–24. Cf. Genette (1972) and Bal (1997). Much of this debate has also been influenced by Tony Woodman’s work on classical rhetoric (2003), even though it only engages with Polybius tangentially. For this narratological approach to Herodotus and Thucydides, see e.g.

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of Achaeus’ capture by Antiochus III (8.15–21), how Polybius was greatly concerned that the structure and narrative of his Histories create interest, suspense, surprise, uncertainty, and illusory expectation in the reader.⁵² In 2010, Brian McGing also recognized the underappreciated strength of the author’s literary and stylistic skill, noting in particular Polybius’ interweaving accounts of Philip V, Ptolemy IV, and Antiochus III (Books 4 and 5), his thematic use of youthfulness to create expectation and suspense, and varying focalizations to lead the historical agents and readers alike to underestimate the young kings.⁵³ The literary examination of Polybius’ Histories was expanded by Miltsios in 2013 with a volume exploring his thematic choices and repetition, as well as the historian’s use of temporal strategies such as synchronicity, analepses (flashbacks) and prolepses (foreshadowing), varied focalizations, and narratorial voice and presence.⁵⁴ The latest edited volume, Polybius and His Legacy (2018), equally recognizes this important literary direction, with chapters suggesting that Polybius drew on a number of literary styles and forms, including encomium and biography, to enhance his historical design and that there is more to be explored in this area.⁵⁵ This renewed examination of Polybius and his historiographical and literary method has not, as yet, resulted in a substantial re-evaluation of Philip. In his 1964 work on Polybius’ methodology Pédech discussed several aspects of Philip’s depiction, including his psychology, motivations, and irrationality, and Golan in 1995 provided a discussion of the sudden change for the worse that Philip’s character allegedly took in 215.⁵⁶ However, it is only recently that scholarship has been directed more specifically towards Polybius’ literary construction of the king, and even then, only in a limited sense. Champion (1997) explored to great effect Polybius’ construction of motivation and ambition in the Macedonian king regarding expansion and war against Rome, and McGing has identified youthfulness as a prominent thematic device for the creation of expectation and suspense in the early years of Philip’s reign. My own earlier explorations of Polybius’ description of the king as the eromenos of the Greeks and his criticism of his actions at Thermum and alleged contravention of the laws of war have similarly focused on his early years.⁵⁷ Boris Dreyer’s ‘Frank Walbank’s Philippos Tragoidoumenos: Polybius’ Account of Philip’s Last Years’ (2013) and his ‘Polybius und die hellenistischen Monarchien’ (2013) have reassessed Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years (186–179 ), arguing not only for an anti-Philip/ Baragwanath (2008) and Rood (1998) respectively. See also Hau (2018) 103–13 for discussion of perception in Polybius. See Chapter 5 for discussion of the blurred line between the genres of history and tragedy. ⁵² Miltsios (2009) 481–506. This lesson is discussed even further by Hau (2016) 48–56. ⁵³ See McGing (2010) 97–117, and a similar argument expressed in McGing (2013) 181–99. ⁵⁴ Miltsios (2013) 181–99. Cf. Nicholson (2018a) 187–207 for Polybius’ use of patterns and recurring themes to persuade his audience of the truthfulness of this account. ⁵⁵ Cf. Alexiou (2018) 241–55 and Tsakmakis (2018) 257–77 respectively. ⁵⁶ Golan (1995) 7–54. ⁵⁷ Nicholson (2018b) 241–55 and (2018c) 434–53.

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Perseus court source for the period, but also for Polybius’ ascription of the trait of indecision to Philip (and his son Perseus) when faced with crucial moments (see Chapter 5 for discussion).⁵⁸ On the whole, therefore, substantial investigation of the king has not tended to carry past Books 4 and 5 of the Histories or the king’s final years in Book 23, and there have been few recent attempts to draw Polybius’ accounts of Philip’s early and later years together or to offer a more comprehensive investigation of Polybius’ Philip V.⁵⁹ The primary reason for this omission is the fragmentary nature of Polybius’ account after Book 5, which makes detailed analysis of his work from a purely narratological perspective impossible. However, a combination of literary, historiographical, and historical analysis will enable the production of new insights into Polybius’ approach to Philip and his methodology in narrating the king’s life. This study, therefore, aims to present a new contribution to the analysis of Polybius’ Histories and his whole portrait of Philip V along these lines, arguing that the value of the historian’s evidence for the king may be appreciated more fully through an engagement with his political, historiographical, and literary strategies.

Polybius’ Purpose, Methodology, and Audience A few remarks on Polybius’ overarching historiographical aims and methodology, as well as intended audience, will offer some context for Philip’s portrait, position, and function in the Histories and the discussion hereafter. Polybius explicitly describes his work, in Book 6, as ‘pragmatic history’ (πραγματικὴ ἱστορία; Plb. 6.5.2), which he expands in Book 9 to mean history concerned with ‘the deeds of peoples, cities and rulers’ (περὶ τὰς πράξεις τῶν ἐθνῶν καὶ πόλεων καὶ δυναστῶν; Plb. 9.1.4).⁶⁰ It is a historical category which would, he states, primarily interest those involved in political life (ὁ πολιτικòς),⁶¹ and is explicitly contrasted with the ‘genealogical kind’ (ὁ γενεαλογικὸς τρόπος), which attracts those who are fond of stories or the casual reader (ὁ φιλήκοος), and the kind which deals with the ‘accounts of colonies, city foundations and kinship ties’ ⁵⁸ Cf. Thornton (2020a) 302–3, who finds both Walbank’s and Dreyer’s arguments about Polybius’ sources unsatisfactory. ⁵⁹ Cf. Welwei (1963) 39–53 and Pédech (1964) esp. 237–8 discuss the overall depiction of Philip in the Histories in their larger works on kingship and methodology in Polybius. ⁶⁰ Gelzer (1962–4) 160 and Pédech (1964) 32 argue that while the term does not appear in the surviving evidence before Polybius, it must have been in circulation before him. The definition of πραγματικὴ ἱστορία has been the cause of much debate over the past half-century, particularly in terms of whether it has wider practical and didactic implications (see e.g. Petzold (1969) 3–24 and Meissner (1986) 313–51) or time-period restrictions (see Musti (1974) 136, Mohm (1977) 12–18, and Meister (1990) 160). It is now generally agreed to mean more simply an account of political and military affairs: see Walbank (1972) 56–58; (2002) 6; Sacks (1981) 178–86; and Beister (1995) 329 n. 1. ⁶¹ Walbank (2002) 6.

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(περὶ τὰς ἀποικίας καὶ κτίσεις καὶ συγγενείας), which attracts those curious and eager for all types of knowledge (ὁ πολυπράγμων).⁶² This intended audience of persons involved in political life included, it seems, Greeks (and probably more specifically Achaeans) and Romans since Polybius acknowledges both in the course of his work (cf. a Greek audience at 1.3.7–8, and a Roman one at 6.11.3–9). The overall content, explanations, and lessons in leadership and politics in the Histories was therefore targeted at this dual-facing audience, although Polybius did not intend to impart identical messages to each side. The differing statuses and positions of these two groups, as well as their different cultural backgrounds, meant that his work had to face two directions, towards the Greek and the subordinate or subjected, and towards the Romans and the dominant and hegemonic, and it would, therefore, at various points speak different truths and impart different lessons.⁶³ The figure of Philip in the Histories is a key example of this since he was important to both the Greeks and the Romans, although in very different ways, and offered different answers and lessons to each group. Polybius decided to write a pragmatic history for two reasons (Plb. 9.2). The first is that recent and contemporary political and military developments allowed him to write about events mostly untouched, and thereby to place his own distinctive mark on the historical tradition; the second was that it was more practically useful to his audience (of elite, present and future statesmen and commanders) than the other branches of history and would enable them to learn how to deal with any contingency that might arise in their own political careers (Plb. 9.2.5–6). The didactic quality of the Histories was fundamental to its conception, structure, content, and style. In the very first line of his work, Polybius notes that there is no more ready corrective of mankind than the study of past events ( . . . διὰ τὸ μηδεμίαν ἑτοιμοτέραν εἶναι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις διόρθωσιν τῆς τῶν προγεγενημένων πράξεων ἐπιστήμης. Plb. 1.1.1), and a few lines later, proclaims that ‘the soundest education and training for political life is the study of history, and the clearest and indeed the only method of learning how to bear bravely the changes of fortune is to recall the reversals of others’ (Plb. 1.1.2).⁶⁴ While he acknowledges that history’s beneficial nature has been noted by others before him, Polybius is perhaps more vehement in proclaiming this view, and more conscious ⁶² The translation of φιλήκοος as ‘casual reader’ is posited by Walbank in the revised Loeb edition of Polybius’ Histories. See Walbank HCP II 116–17 for a discussion of these terms and categories of history. ⁶³ Cf. Champion (2004) 232–3, Thornton (2013) 213–29, and Nicholson (2021) 152–6 for discussion of the different strategies Polybius used when addressing Greeks and Romans. ⁶⁴ Plb. 1.1.2: . . . φάσκοντες ἀληθινωτάτην μὲν εἶναι παιδείαν καὶ γυμνασίαν πρὸς τὰς πολιτικὰς πράξεις τὴν ἐκ τῆς ἱστορίας μάθησιν, ἐναργεστάτην δὲ καὶ μόνην διδάσκαλον τοῦ δύνασθαι τὰς τῆς τύχης μεταβολὰς γενναίως ὑποφέρειν τὴν τῶν ἀλλοτρίων περιπετειῶν ὑπόμνησιν . . . A similar statement is also made at 1.35.

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and concerned about tailoring his narrative with explanatory and discursive digressions, than those before him. As we will observe in the course of this volume, Philip’s portrait is significantly and consistently impacted by this political and educational programme. To create a history of educational value, Polybius insisted on presenting as clear and truthful an account of the past as possible and even admitted to being less concerned with the stylistic quality of his writing than other historians (Plb. 2.56.7–10, 3.48.8–9, 12.15).⁶⁵ History was not a fictional or panegyric piece where a sensational style would be permissible, so it was important in Polybius’ mind for a ‘good’ historian to refrain from using emotional and dramatic language and to present an account unadorned by literary embellishment. Yet, this programmatic statement should not lead us to underestimate the literary and rhetorical complexity of Polybius’ work, nor persuade us to typecast him as a historian who is immune from bias, partial analysis, and sensationalism.⁶⁶ He is, in fact, fully aware of and connected with a wider complex intellectual tradition which permitted and accepted to varying degrees the integration of all these features. As we will see in Chapter 1, Polybius permits the presence of patriotism in works of history provided it is applied with sufficient care and consideration in preserving the truth. Furthermore, in Chapter 6 we will discuss the presence of sensational and tragic language in the depiction of Philip in his last years, deliberately and unapologetically used by Polybius to bring out the importance of the moment for Macedonian and Mediterranean history. Polybius’ proclaimed preference for simplicity and his earnest statements about the veracity of his own account create an impression of frankness and lead the reader into thinking that the Histories are straightforward and unproblematic. Yet, this is, as Walbank noted, ‘the apparent candour one sometimes finds in a man who has persuaded himself of the truth about matters in which he has a strong personal commitment and is not prepared even to envisage the possibility that there may be another point of view’.⁶⁷ This conviction, when combined with a penchant for frequent authorial intervention, produces a decidedly one-sided perspective. As Polybius places digressions which explain, analyse, and commend or criticize narrated events throughout the narrative, he allows almost nothing to pass without drawing his own conclusion, lesson, or moral from it.⁶⁸ He is alert to the possibility that his readers might take the wrong impression from what he has written, and is at pains to steer their understanding and education in a more targeted direction. This one-sidedness and manipulation of perspective is a feature that has considerable bearing on all areas of Polybius’ work and will be explored in greater detail with particular reference to Philip in the following chapters. ⁶⁵ Plb. 29.12.9–10; 16.17.10. His lack of concern for stylistic quality and its repercussions have been acknowledged by Meister (1975) 177–8; Miltsios (2009) 481–2; and McGing (2010) 4–6. ⁶⁶ Walbank (1972) 2. ⁶⁷ Walbank (1972) 6–8. ⁶⁸ Marincola (1997) 11.

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Polybius’ structural approach is determined in part by his subject matter and in part by his desire to provide a piece of educational benefit and clarity. His subject matter, the rise of Rome and its subjugation of the whole known world in the space of fifty-three years (Plb. 1.1.5), involved, as he saw it, a complex process of unification, which he termed the symploke (συμπλοκή): the ‘interweaving’ of the Mediterranean into a unified whole (σωματοειδῆ) as the affairs of Italy and Libya became connected with those of Greece and Asia producing one specific outcome—the supremacy of Rome (1.3.3–4).⁶⁹ This ‘interweaving’ of events throughout the inhabited world, he claims, had never happened before (Plb. 1.3.3.),⁷⁰ since affairs were previously scattered and unconnected; it is this process that makes this period in history, and his recording of it, so important. Polybius saw the symploke starting in 217 , specifically at the conference of Naupactus which ended the Social War (220–17) between Philip V and his allies and the Aetolians (Plb. 5.105.4). After this point he claims that the affairs of the world became linked. Attributing this event with real historical importance is problematic, however, as it is hard to find any credible association between this conference and the people of Asia, as Walbank has previously noted.⁷¹ Yet, what is important here is the key role given to Philip in this interweaving, unifying process. After being made aware of Rome’s defeat at Lake Trasimene by Demetrius of Pharus in 217 and entertaining plans of invading Italy following the end of the war in Greece, Philip instigates the conference at Naupactus to obtain peace. In Polybius’ narrative, therefore, it is the Macedonian king who sets off the symploke. As a result, from the very beginning of the Histories the figure of Philip is assigned huge significance—he is the initiator of the unique interweaving process which connects all regions of the known world together and then focuses and structures Polybius’ work. This importance continues to the end of the original thirty-book plan of the Histories as it is only by Macedon’s defeat in 168/7  that Rome is able to dominate the eastern Mediterranean. To help his readers understand the events of this convoluted period, Polybius decided to structure his work as a ‘history of general affairs’ or what is otherwise

⁶⁹ For the terms συμπλοκή and σωματοειδῆ: Walbank (5), esp. 198–9 = (1985) 313–15. See also Vollmer (1990). ⁷⁰ For the restoration of this fragmentary passage see Moore (1965) 245–7. ⁷¹ Cf. Walbank (1972) 68–9; (1974) 201–3 = (1985b) 316–17. Polybius asserts that the islanders and Greeks in Asia, aggrieved by Philip and Attalus at this time, now looked towards the west and sent embassies to Carthage and Rome for help instead of turning to Antiochus III and Ptolemy IV (Plb. 5.105.6–7). However, there is no evidence for any appeal by these peoples to Rome for many years after 217, and none to Carthage. It is only during the First Macedonian War (211–206) that neutral embassies were sent from Egypt, Rhodes, Chios, Mytilene, and Byzantium to try and persuade Rome, Aetolia, and Macedon to conclude peace, and these did not venture to Rome nor visit Roman forces. While Siegfried (1928) 46 and Pédech (1964) 507 have suggested that what mattered to Polybius was the direction of men’s thoughts and attention, which he claimed all started to look westwards to Italy, rather than the military and diplomatic contacts, this does not acquit Polybius of falsely stating that embassies began to go back and forth between Asia Minor, Rome, and Carthage.

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termed a ‘universal’ history (ἡ τῶν καθόλου πραγμάτων σύνταξις; 1.4.2; elsewhere described as τὰ καθόλου γράφειν; Plb. 5.33.2).⁷² This, Polybius believed, would bring the greatest benefit to his readers since he thought that specialist histories or monographs (ἡ κατὰ μέρος ἱστορία) not only distorted events and men by making them appear more important than they really are, but also obscured the connections between them and the reality of historical change and causation (1.4.6–11; 7.7.6). It is only by reading ‘a history of general affairs’, Polybius claims, that it is possible to gain a proper understanding of cause and effect and the correct position and agency of men, and consequently to understand the workings of the world from a broader perspective (Plb. 1.4.2, 2.37.4).⁷³ This pragmatic, didactic, interwoven, ‘universal’ history needed careful structuring, particularly as its vast scope and ambitious historiographical aims could easily make it unwieldy. To facilitate understanding, clarity, and unity, therefore, Polybius used a number of structuring devices including his chronological framework based on the four-year Olympiads, and his geographic cycling which moved the narrative around the Mediterranean from Rome to Sicily, Spain, Africa, Greece, Macedonia, Asia, and Egypt.⁷⁴ The combination of these two frameworks allowed Polybius to focus on each region in a ‘monographic’ manner for a certain period (usually, but not always, the four-year Olympiad period), while also placing each regional account next to the others to allow and encourage the awareness of connections between the different sets of events.⁷⁵ As will be explored in Chapter 6, while Philip is at once made to stand out in the narrative for his role in starting the symploke, this universal, interweaving, and cycling approach to history corrects and tempers this distortion and the reader is encouraged to see Philip V and his actions (as well as the other leaders and peoples involved) in the larger context of the Mediterranean. ⁷² The meaning of ἡ τῶν καθόλου πραγμάτων σύνταξις, and the associated τὰ καθόλου γράφειν, have also been the cause of debate. It has been commonplace for scholars to translate this term as ‘universal history’ and label Polybius a universal historian: see e.g. Walbank (1972) 67–8; Sacks (1981) 96–121; Scafuro (1983) 116–56; Marincola (2007c) 171; Liddel (2010) 15; Hartog (2010) 30–40; Dreyer (2011) 91–2; and Kloft (2013) 13–24. However, the difficulty of equating our modern conception of ‘universal history’ with Polybius’ understanding of τὰ καθόλου γράφειν has received increasing attention: see e.g. Walbank (1972) 67, (2002) 8 n. 51, Sacks (1981) 96–121; Scafuro (1983) 116–56; Clarke (1999a) 114–28; Marincola (2007c) 155–63; Clarke (2008) 97; Hartog (2010) 30–40, and Sheridan (2010) 41, 46–8. Tully (2014) 171–90 has suggested that we move away from trying to understand Polybius as a writer of ‘universal history’, as he would not have known such a concept and was not so much interested in chronological or geographical coverage, but with balance and perspective; Weaire (2021) 26–44 revisits the relevant Polybian passages and rejects Tully’s argument, taking Polybius’ claim to universal geographical (not diachronic) scope to be a defining feature of his work. ⁷³ Walbank HCP I 9–11. ⁷⁴ For Polybius’ chronological and geographical structuring, see Walbank (1974) 203–12 = (1985b) 317–24. ⁷⁵ While Polybius’ methodology prompted criticism from other authors who claimed this arrangement made his narrative seem incomplete and disconnected (see App. Hist. praef. 12), it has been countered that, despite this difficulty, this arrangement was in fact the most appropriate method for displaying the interconnection of political events throughout the Mediterranean; a point which may simply have been ignored by others. Walbank (1974) 204–8 = (1985) 318–21.

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Tyche: The ‘Director’ of the Symploke and the Fate of Macedon Polybius also uses tyche, fortune, as a structural and explanatory device throughout the Histories. While the exact meaning and nature of tyche in Polybius’ Histories continues to be a problematic issue,⁷⁶ there is little doubt that it was used to bring unity to a work which could otherwise prove incoherent and at places inexplicable. In the preface, tyche is said to be responsible for steering all the affairs of the world into one direction and one end (Plb. 1.4.1: καθάπερ ἡ τύχη σχεδὸν ἅπαντα τὰ τῆς οἰκουμένης πράγματα πρὸς ἓν ἔκλινε μέρος καὶ πάντα νεύειν ἠνάγκασε πρὸς ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν σκοπόν). While such a role introduces a degree of determinism to the Histories that might otherwise contradict Polybius’ view of the importance of human agency, neither tyche nor human action functions as an overall causal explanation. Tyche’s influence acts in an overarching way, ensuring the final result, while the details of how this end comes about is determined by human decisions and actions, the more prominent causal factor in Polybius’ work.⁷⁷ Tyche therefore provides an additional layer of explanation for events which are not so easily explained by human and logical means alone. The complex sequence of events that brought about the rise of Rome would come under this category. Tyche plays an equally important part in Philip’s narrative as the rise of Rome required the destruction of the Antigonid kingdom. The idea that tyche swayed the fate of political powers in the Mediterranean, and even Macedon, was, however, not an innovation on Polybius’ part.⁷⁸ In Book 29 of the Histories, having narrated the defeat of Perseus in 168, Polybius notes that these events reminded him of the words of the fourth-century Athenian orator Demetrius of Phalerum. While discussing Alexander’s conquest of Persia, Demetrius had noted the cruelty and fickleness of tyche and how in a mere fifty years the Persians, once masters of the world, had been defeated and overtaken by the Macedonians, once scarcely known (Plb. 29.21).⁷⁹ Tyche, he asserted, had shown by her elevation of the Macedonians to the same prosperity the Persians had once enjoyed that she was only lending the Macedonians these advantages until she saw fit. The implication being that the

⁷⁶ For discussions of the various interpretations of the role and use of tyche in Polybius’ text, see e.g. Fowler (1903) 445–9; Shorey (1921) 280–3; Walbank HCP I 16–26, (1972) 58–65, and (2007) 349–55; Pédech (1964) 331–54 and (1966) 35–68; Roveri (1982) 297–326; Eckstein (1995b) 238–71; Brouwer (2011) 111–32; Dreyer (2011) 83–6; Hau (2011) 183–207; and Deininger (2013) 71–111. ⁷⁷ See Walbank (1994) 32 = (2002) 248–9; Deininger (2013) 71–111, Pelling (2013) 8–11, and Maier (2013) 149–70. ⁷⁸ Wiesehöfer (2013) 59–70. ⁷⁹ For Demetrius of Phalerum (c.350–c.280 ), an Athenian orator, Macedonian supporter, and Peripatetic philosopher, see Diogenes Laertes, Life of Demetrius. The treatise On Style was long attributed to him, although it is now believed to be the work of another Peripatetic. Cf. O’Sullivan (2005) 119–23 and (2009), and Fortenbaugh & Schütrumpf (1999, 2000) for a commentary on Demetrius’ work.

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Macedonian empire would one day be replaced by another.⁸⁰ Polybius believed that he himself had seen the fulfilment of Demetrius’ prophetic statement in the Romans’ defeat of Perseus in 168/7  since this brought about the end of the Macedonian empire (Plb. 29.21.8). That Rome’s rise and Macedon’s downfall also took roughly fifty years undoubtedly compounded the notion. In the Histories, therefore, tyche was a key causal factor in Macedon’s downfall. Yet, Polybius did not take up Demetrius’ notion of tyche without adjustment: a retributive component is added which relies on and highlights the importance of human action.⁸¹ This is evident in his account of Philip V as the king is said to have been punished by tyche for his monstrous crimes against men and gods (Plb. 15.5–8; for his crimes at Thermum, 5.9–12, Messene, 7.10–14, and his pact with Antiochus III against Ptolemy V, 15.20.1–4). To avenge this behaviour, tyche sends furies to torment and inspire Philip to initiate a doomed war of revenge against Rome and manufactures events so that he will be forced to assassinate one of his own sons (Plb. 23.10; Livy 40.24; see Chapter 5 for discussion). Tyche’s incitement of Philip to war then sets up the Third Macedonian War in his son’s reign, which results in the destruction of the kingdom in 167 (cf. Plb. 22.18.10). Through the introduction of a retributive tyche, Polybius was therefore able to include and emphasize human responsibility for the fall of the Antigonid kingdom alongside a deterministic component influenced by Demetrius of Phalerum and a cycle of empires. Macedon’s downfall was, therefore, not primarily due to divine intervention, chance, or misfortune, but the fault of its leaders.⁸² This additional layer in causation allowed Polybius first to point out to his audience that all things, even great empires and kings, are subject and vulnerable to the ravages of change and fortune, and secondly that the actions of men are what lead to a state’s success or failure. That crimes against men and gods, for instance, will bring about serious practical consequences for the individuals and states who exhibit such immoral behaviour. These lessons were no doubt at least partly targeted at his Roman audience, whom Polybius saw declining in leadership following the destruction of Macedon in 168.⁸³ In speaking to his Greek audience (particularly post-Pydna and post-Achaean War), such a structure indicates that Rome’s imperial success came as a result largely because of human and explicable factors (its exceptional politeia, character, and leadership) although tyche may have played a part, that Rome’s rise and Macedon’s fall was rational and justified, and that Roman power was not, at least at this point in time, something to resist easily or rashly.

⁸⁰ See Walbank (1994) 34–6 = (2002) 251–2 and (2007) 350 for Polybius’ use and adaptation of Demetrius of Phalerum. ⁸¹ Walbank (1994) 35–6 = (2002) 251–2. ⁸² This rejection of chance and luck by Polybius is also seen in his account of Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps (3.47.6–9) and his comments on the life and career of Scipio Africanus (10.2.5–13). ⁸³ Polybius’ treatise, like many of those dealing with hegemonic relationships, not only aimed to show how the current situation came about, but also actively encouraged those in power to think more carefully about the way they ruled over their conquered peoples. See Thornton (2013) 213–29.

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Whenever making any pronouncements about Polybius’ description of Philip, therefore, it must be acknowledged that the king’s character is formed in a wider, artificial interpretation of both the period and the causal links between events. This does not mean that we should mistrust all information recorded in the Histories concerning Philip’s life. Polybius would not have been able to alter known facts without raising suspicion and criticism, and had he done so would have compromised his own openly prized methods of rigorous investigation and truthful narration. It does mean, however, that we must be wary of Polybius’ structuring and presentation of material and how this shapes the figure of the king. A sound historical analysis of Polybius’ oeuvre is not possible if one works purely from the principle of in dubio pro reo. No historian, while in the process of recording events and giving them unity and meaning, is free from presenting the past in some form of interpretative, artificial framework based upon their own background, influences, aims, and resources. Therefore, in order to understand the shadows that this framework casts, particularly over the Macedonian king, a thorough analysis of this historical text’s distortions is necessary.

The Structure and Aim of This Volume This volume progresses in a broadly chronological fashion. Its investigation begins prior to Philip’s entrance onto the scene in Polybius’ narrative and moves through his early, middling, and last years, before taking a synoptical view of his life and role in Polybius’ universal history. It also has two aims. First, to question the historicity of Polybius’ account of Philip, unravel some of his literary workings, and expose a more balanced picture of the king; and secondly, to reveal through this investigation of Philip’s portrait more about Polybius’ methodology, construction of narrative, and the influences and conditions that affected the creation and shape of his work. Chapter 1 begins by establishing the political and literary context in which Philip V enters Polybius’ narrative. It explores how Polybius’ Achaean perspective affects his whole creation and demonstrates how strongly it taints the portrayal of Philip and Macedon from the very beginning. Working from the conclusions of Chapter 1, Chapter 2 then explores the historicity and narrative construction of Philip’s turn for the worse in 215 , changing, according to Polybius, from the ‘darling of the Greeks’ to a wicked tyrant. The literary construction of this motif of decline is exposed and the reasons behind Polybius’ decision to paint Philip in such a way investigated. Chapter 3 continues this line of questioning by problematizing Polybius’ construction of Philip as a wicked tyrant in his relationship with his Greek allies in his early and middling years. It aims to revise our understanding of this relationship by demonstrating that, despite the historian’s claims of treachery and deceit, Philip was, in fact, a dedicated and energetic ally who supported and aided his Greek allies consistently until his defeat by Rome.

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Chapter 4 then explores Polybius’ portrait of Philip in relation to the Romans, the main protagonists of his work. In this investigation, attention is shifted to Polybius’ historiographical method and construction of narrative in a more concentrated manner by focusing the discussion on the ideological aspects of Philip’s and the Romans’ portraits using the lens of cultural politics and Hellenism. The chapter posits that the historian attempted to offer an answer to the historical question of whether the Greeks should have sided with Macedon or Rome by exchanging their ideological and cultural positions in the Greek world. Chapter 5 then explores the use of a tragic mode in Polybius’ description of Philip’s last years and the implications such a framework has for his account and our understanding of Polybius’ methodology and conception of the genre of history. Chapter 6 concludes the volume by addressing the discrepancies revealed between the image of Philip V in Polybius’ narrative and the image of the king in his digressional passages in the course of Chapters 3 and 5. It argues that these conflicting portraits are the result of Polybius’ use of a biographical means of presenting key individuals in the context of a historical account and the different levels of unity in character that these two genres require. It then places Philip V in the wider context of the Histories so that we can appreciate the king in the framework of a universal history, as Polybius intended. It ends with a comparative study of Polybius’ portrait of the Macedonian king with that of other key individuals in his work (his predecessors: Philip II and Alexander, Antigonus Doson; contemporaries: Ptolemy IV, Antiochus, and Hannibal; and successors: Perseus and Eumenes).

1 Constructing Macedon and the World Through an Achaean Perspective To understand Polybius’ portrait of Philip V we first need to explore the historian’s attachment to the Achaean League and admiration for its leaders, and particularly for Aratus of Sicyon. Aratus was, controversially, the Achaean leader who successfully removed Macedonian interference from the Peloponnese and Achaean League by reclaiming control of the Acrocorinthus in 243 , but then, in a complete about-face, instigated an alliance with Antigonus Doson in 224  and advised Philip V for many years in the early part of his reign (221–212 ). The actions and political reputation of the Achaean League, Aratus, and Philip were all intimately connected, therefore, and cannot be fully understood without the other, nor easily separated. Polybius documents their interactions in detail yet intensifies this connection and emphasizes the fluctuations in their relationship to serve his historiographical objectives. An initial investigation of Polybius’ Achaean perspective and the way that he dealt with the Achaean League and Aratus in his work will prove useful, therefore, not only in setting out aspects of his overall methodology, political agenda, and construction of narrative, but also in demonstrating the methods Polybius used to protect the reputation of the Achaean League and Aratus, and how this agenda had a significant impact on the image of Macedon and Philip V in the Histories.

Part 1: Polybius’ Achaean Perspective Polybius was determined to create something that was, in his view, more honest and educationally beneficial to the reader than the historical works written by many of his predecessors and contemporaries. He considered much of their work insufficiently truthful (of Philinus and Fabius: 1.14.1–2; of Timaeus: 12.12.7–15.12), and criticized them for arousing the wrong kind of pity and sympathy (of Phylarchus: 2.56.7), for thrilling their readers with sensation like tragic poets (again of Phylarchus: 2.56.10–11), for deliberately using the fabulous and mythical to fill out areas of uncertainty or ignorance (of those writing about Hannibal: 3.48.8–9), and for neglecting to include both praise and criticism

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0002

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appropriately (of Timaeus: 12.15).¹ Polybius did not want to be associated with untruthful historical writing and took great pains to illustrate the benefits of his more sober and factual ‘general’ history, above the more dramatic and ‘specialized’ ones.² As he stresses on numerous occasions, history is meant to be instructive both from a practical and moral standpoint and this didacticism can only be achieved when historians record the truth and provide causal explanations for events.³ Without these two qualities it would be impossible for the reader to learn how to address and react appropriately to the problems of their own time (2.56.13).⁴ Yet, the educational paradigm that the Histories puts forward is not one which always encourages free consideration of events. It frequently sets out Polybius’ own interpretation of the past in detail and pre-empts alternative perspectives by the use of frequent authorial intervention. Like all historical accounts, the truth that we find in the Histories is shaped by its author and is therefore partially of his making. Awareness of this fact is vital whenever we read his narrative as these biases and aims, embedded within the narrative, affect the interpretation of characters, actions, and events that readers will absorb. This is an especially pressing problem for modern scholars as few other sources exist for much of this period and many of our views are informed primarily by Polybius’ account. His manipulations can be teased out in places, however, and if we are to appreciate the intricacies of his work and to move beyond the contrived nature of it for historical purposes, we must identify these and become aware of their effects. Most significantly, large portions of Polybius’ narrative are affected by the historian’s inability, despite all his claims, to detach himself completely from his political allegiances and biases.⁵ Despite Polybius’ censure of his fellow historians for writing inaccurately, he himself still permitted two exceptions to his rule prohibiting excessively ¹ For Polybius’ use and critique of Philinus and Fabius Pictor, see Meister (1975) 127–49, and Ambaglio (2005) 205–22; for his critique of Phylarchus, see Meister (1975) 93–126, McCaslin (1985–86) 77–102, Haegemans & Kosmetatou (2005) 123–40, Schepens (2005) 141–64, and Marincola (2013) 73–90; and for that of Timaeus, see Meister (1975) 3–54, Vattuone (2005) 89–122, and Baron (2013) particularly ch. 4 on Polybius’ distorting lens. For Polybius’ comments on ‘tragic’ writing, see Chapter 5. ² See e.g. 1.4.2–11, 14.3; 2.37.4, 61.6; 5.33.2; 7.7.6; 12.12.3, 12b, 15.9–12. ³ See Plb. 9.1–2 for his view that it was a historian’s duty to present an accurate picture of events. See also Plb. 1.1.1–2; 2.6.7–7.12, 35.5–10, 56.11–12 on history’s didactic purpose. For the practical and moral nature of Polybius’ didacticism, see Hau (2016) 23–72. ⁴ Walbank HCP I 262. See also Mioni (1949) 112–34 and Thornton (2020b) 152–4 for his recording of the truth; and Eckstein (1995b) 140–50 for Polybius’ concern for the moral behaviour of youths, and pp. 238, 248–9, 271, 281–2 for the benefits and difficulties of education; cf. Eckstein (1997) 175–98. ⁵ Cf. Marincola (2001) 136, Walbank (2005) 12–18, and particularly Thornton (2020b) for Polybius’ interweaving of politics and historiography. These political leanings are connected to his aristocratic ethos, which has been discussed by Eckstein (1995b); see particularly chs. 2, 3, and 4 concerning Polybius’ views on personal bravery, honour, war, wealth, deceit, and good faith. For examples in Polybius’ Histories which may exemplify bias deriving from his own political allegiances, see 2.56–63, 5.12, 7.13, 24.8.6–10.15.

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sensational and vivid writing: piety (εὐσέβεια) and patriotism (ῥοπὰς διδόναι ταῖς αὑτῶν πατρίσι, ‘casting weight to their own country’ at 16.14.6; ἡ πρὸς τὴν πατρίδα φιλοστοργία, ‘affection of the homeland’ at 16.17.8).⁶ The first is of limited importance for our understanding of Polybius as a historian here as he rarely mentions miracles and portents, and when he does he is quick to dismiss belief in them as childish simplicity (παιδικῆς εὐηθείας: 16.12.5) or the sign of a senseless mind (ἀπηλγηκυίας ἐστὶ ψυχῆς: 16.12.7). He claims that the only good in recording them is the sense of piety they impart to the masses (τὴν τοῦ πλήθους εὐσέβειαν πρὸς τὸ θεῖον: 16.12.8), yet even in this case, their account must be written without extravagance.⁷ Polybius himself feels no need to elaborate on religious events, and the weight of piety in his discussion is consequently minimal.⁸ The second allegation—that of patriotism—is more revealing of his attitude towards truth.⁹ In his discussion of the Rhodian historians Zeno and Antisthenes, Polybius praises them for their participation in politics, for composing their works for fame and not for profit, and for doing their duty as statesmen (Plb. 16.14).¹⁰ However, he also cautions the reader about their ignorance (ἄγνοια) and patriotism (τὴν πατρίδα φιλοστοργίαν; 16.17.8). Interestingly, whilst doing so Polybius makes an important qualification that is worth quoting in full: ἐγὼ δὲ διότι μὲν δεῖ ῥοπὰς διδόναι ταῖς αὑτῶν πατρίσι τοὺς συγγραφέας, συγχωρήσαιμ᾽ ἄν, οὐ μὴν τὰς ἐναντίας τοῖς συμβεβηκόσιν ἀποφάσεις ποιεῖσθαι περὶ αὐτῶν. ἱκανὰ γὰρ τὰ κατ᾽ ἄγνοιαν γινόμενα τοῖς γράφουσιν, ἃ διαφυγεῖν ἄνθρωπον δυσχερές: ἐὰν δὲ κατὰ προαίρεσιν ψευδογραφῶμεν ἢ πατρίδος ἕνεκεν ἢ φίλων [ἢ] χάριτος, τί διοίσομεν τῶν ἀπὸ τούτου τὸν βίον ποριζομένων; ὥσπερ γὰρ ἐκεῖνοι τῷ λυσιτελεῖ μετροῦντες ἀδοκίμους ποιοῦσι τὰς αὑτῶν συντάξεις, οὕτως οἱ πολιτικοὶ τῷ μισεῖν ἢ τῷ φιλεῖν ἑλκόμενοι πολλάκις εἰς ταὐτὸ τέλος ἐμπίπτουσι τοῖς προειρημένοις. διὸ δεῖ καὶ τοῦτο τὸ μέρος ἐπιμελῶς τοὺς μὲν ἀναγινώσκοντας παρατηρεῖν, τοὺς δὲ γράφοντας αὐτοὺς παραφυλάττεσθαι. (16.14.6–10) For my part I would concede that historical writers should give the casting vote to their own fatherlands, but [I would say that] they should not make statements about them contrary to the facts. For enough mistakes are made by writers ⁶ Walbank HCP I 11–12. ⁷ Plb. 16.12.3–11; Walbank HCP I 12 and (2002) 171; see also Eckstein (1995b) 129–40 for Polybius’ concerns about controlling the masses. ⁸ For studies of Polybius’ religious views, see for instance, Pédech (1966) 35–68 who argues that Polybius believed the gods had the power to influence the human world; Balasch (1972) 365–91 who argues that Polybius was not an atheist but had an intellectual religiosity rather than a traditional belief in the Olympians; and Alvarez-i-Miranda (1956) 61–63, Van Hooff (1977) 101–28, and Spickermann (2013) 301–18 who in various ways argue for that Polybius had faith in certain supernatural powers but considered religion itself an inexorable part with political and cultural institutions. See also Gabelko & Teytelbaum (2019), 309–25 for Polybius’ views on sacrilege. ⁹ See Walbank HCP I 11–13 and Thornton (2020b) 277, 281 for this passage. ¹⁰ See Meister (1975) 173–8 and Wiemer (2013) 279–306 for these two Rhodian historians and their use by Polybius. See also Wiemer (2001) for the Rhodian tradition in Hellenistic historiography.

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   through ignorance, which it is difficult for human beings to escape; but if we write falsely by choice either for the sake of our fatherlands or friends or favour, how will we differ from those who make their living from this? For just as the latter, measuring by what is profitable, make their works unbelievable, so too do the politicians, being weighed down by their dislikes and affections, often fall into the same end as the ones that have been stated. Therefore, readers too must watch carefully for this, and writers themselves must be on their guard against it.

This concession is carefully hedged so as not to arouse suspicion about the validity of his own version of events, but it is clear that Polybius is generally happy to allow and, as we will see, has indeed allowed his patriotism to filter through the fabric of his narrative. This partiality affects many areas of his Histories—most importantly for this study, his depiction of the Achaean League and its leaders, and Macedon and its kings—and we must be conscious of this effect whenever assessing events, explanations, and characterization.¹¹ His introductory chapters detailing the League’s history are full of unfiltered praise for its and Aratus’ unwavering policies promoting equality and freedom (Plb. 2.37–71, particularly 2.37.7–11; 2.38.6–9, 39.4–40.4, and 42.3–7). Yet, despite this account and these statements falling within the purview of his more condensed build up to his main narrative, which might therefore justify their more condensed and less nuanced state, they are still one-sided. Polybius states that he has deliberately kept this section short because the period has already been well recorded by his predecessor Aratus, unlike the presentation of the First Punic War by Philinus and Fabius (Plb. 2.40.4 and 1.14–15).¹² In regard to the latter, it was because he viewed their accounts as insufficiently truthful, he claims, that he felt the need to provide a longer, more developed summary for this Roman/ Carthaginian conflict. Yet this reason for the difference in treatment is inadequate in explaining the one-sidedness of his summary history of the Achaean League and characterization of Aratus, especially when we consider that this was a historian who usually prided himself on recording both sides of each character, institution, decision, and deed (Plb. 1.14.5–9; 2.61; 12.9–12). As demonstrated by Craige Champion in his discussion of Polybius’ creation of collective identities, Polybius deliberately presented equality, freedom, lawfulness, honesty, and democracy as characteristic principles of the Achaean League throughout his account of Achaean action.¹³ In Polybius’ opinion, these are the ¹¹ On Polybius’ patriotic defence of Achaea and Aratus of Sicyon, see Gruen (1972) 609–25, Haegemans & Kosmetatou (2005) 123–40, and Thornton (2020a) 299–307 and (2020b) 45–71. ¹² See also Plb. 2.37.3 and Walbank (1933) 9 for Polybius’ aim to keep it an introductory sketch (τὴν προκατασκευὴν καὶ τὴν ἔφοδον). ¹³ Champion (2004) 122–3. See, for instance, the procedures which the Megalopolitan embassy had to go through before approaching Doson for assistance (2.48.6–7), and the Achaean refusal to admit Messenia into the Symmachy without first consulting Philip V and the other allies (4.9.3–4; 4.16.1). For the history of the Achaean League, see Kralli (2017) 147–398 and Shipley (2018) 62–85.

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most important features of the Achaean League; these represent its essence (cf. 2.38.6, 10–11, and 42.3; see also Chapter 4). The brevity of the narrative at this juncture conveniently allows him to avoid a detailed discussion of these characteristics and ensures the prominence of this pro-Achaean version in the reader’s mind. This lays the groundwork for Polybius’ defence of Achaean behaviour against criticisms of cruelty in the Cleomenean War later in Book 2 (2.56–63), as well as his justification of their future association with and then later defection from Macedon in Philip’s reign. The League and its leaders’ actions at this early stage are thereby defended and justified because they are always shown to have conducted themselves with principles promoting equality, freedom, and lawfulness. A more detailed discussion of the League and Aratus would not only have taken up too much space, but also required further defence of these qualities: they would have appeared more questionable in the audience’s mind and might therefore have produced uncertainty and indignation in the development of Polybius’ narrative.

The Use and Adaptation of Aratus’ Memoirs Polybius’ commitment to his homeland as well as to a specific political and social milieu is also evident on a number of occasions in the early books of his Histories when he states that he is adhering to Aratus’ account for the period covering 250–220 : τῶν μέντοι γ᾽ Ἀράτῳ διῳκημένων καὶ νῦν καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα πάλιν ἐπικεφαλαιούμενοι μνησθησόμεθα διὰ τὸ καὶ λίαν ἀληθινοὺς καὶ σαφεῖς ἐκεῖνον περὶ τῶν ἰδίων συντεταχέναι πράξεων ὑπομνηματισμούς . . . (Plb. 2.40.4) Aratus’ government, however, will be dealt with here and in future quite summarily, since he published very truthful and clearly compiled memoirs of his own career . . . χρήσιμον ἂν εἴη, μᾶλλον δ᾽ ἀναγκαῖον ἡμῖν, Ἀράτῳ προῃρημένοις κατακολουθεῖν περὶ τῶν Κλεομενικῶν . . . (Plb. 2.56.2) It would be advantageous, and rather necessary for me, since I have chosen to follow Aratus in my account of the Cleomenean war . . .

The Memoirs are only known through references in Polybius and Plutarch.¹⁴ They were apparently written in minute detail, containing more than thirty books,¹⁵

¹⁴ Plb. 2.40.4, 2.56.1–2; Plut. Arat. 3, 33, 38, Cleom. 16–19; Philop. 8.5–7. ¹⁵ On the length and scope of Aratus’ Memoirs, see FGrHist 231 and Stadter (2015) 163–4. See also Marasco (2011) 105 n. 100, who rightly points out that Porter’s statement ((1937) xv) which asserts that

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and cover the liberation of Sicyon in 251 to the battle of Sellasia in 221  (they do not cover Philip’s reign or Aratus’ involvement with the king).¹⁶ Polybius makes no reference to any other sources for this period, but we are aware of one other historian who wrote about the Cleomenean war—Phylarchus¹⁷—whose name primarily survives because of Polybius’ severe criticism of his account. Phylarchus, either Athenian, Naucratite, or Sicyonian in origins, wrote a history of twenty-eight books recording events from Pyrrhus’ Peloponnesian expedition in 272 to Cleomenes’ death in 220/219 (of which we only have fragments). He is said to have had a clear bias towards Cleomenes and a prejudice against Achaea and Macedon.¹⁸ His attack on Aratus and anti-Achaean presentation of the Cleomenean war are noted as the main reasons for Polybius’ hostility towards him. Yet, while Polybius claims not to have used Phylarchus for this reason, it does not, of course, mean that he was not in some way indebted to his account. Polybius’ proclaimed preference for Aratus’ account over Phylarchus’ would have caused some surprise at the time, as the latter’s work seems to have been held in some esteem (2.56.1).¹⁹ However, according to Polybius Aratus is the right author to follow because, unlike Phylarchus, he left behind an account of his own leadership which was both truthful and clear (διὰ τὸ καὶ λίαν ἀληθινοὺς καὶ σαφεῖς; 2.40.4; cf. 2. 56.1–2); the fact that he left certain things unsaid is, Polybius insists, not an indication of the untruthfulness of the Memoirs, but rather of the sensitivity of certain issues (2.47.10–11). These are notably the reversal of Aratus’ strict antiMacedonian policy and his subsequent relationship with the Macedonian king, Antigonus Doson.²⁰ Yet, in allowing this concession Polybius compromises his declaration of the honesty and clarity of the Memoirs only a few lines before and his defence is further weakened not only by discrepancies between his own and Aratus’ accounts, but also by his own ideas about the importance of accurate historical writing.²¹ He has already attacked Philinus and Fabius for their biased views and inaccurate recording of detail in Book 1, and continues to criticize numerous others throughout his work when he thinks they have not dealt with the past truthfully or have given the wrong conclusions. Now, however, we see Polybius avoiding such criticism when it comes to Aratus and therefore he raises

Photius claimed that the Memoirs were used by Sopater in his Eclogues, is incorrect. Photius actually says that Sopater had used Plutarch’s Life of Aratus in Book 11 of the Eclogues. Therefore, we cannot know whether the Memoirs were still in existence in the fourth century, as Porter claims. ¹⁶ Porter (1937) xxxiii–xxxvi, however, suggests 252  as a possible date. See Griffin (1982) 79–81, Kralli (2017) 257–60, and Shipley (2018) 62–3 for the liberation of Sicyon. ¹⁷ The most important work on Phylarchus still remains Africa (1961); however, see also Gabba (1957) 3–55, 193–239. Schepens (2005) 141–64 and Eckstein (2013) 314–38 discuss Polybius’ criticism of him. For the Cleomenean War, see Walbank (1933) 70–113; Pédech (1964) 154–61; Larsen (1966) 43–57; Grainger (1999b) 244–8, 253–4; Kralli (2017) 205–66 and Shipley (2018) 67–73. ¹⁸ See FGrHist 81; BNP coll. 954–5; Plut. Arat. 38.8; Walbank (1933) 4–6. ¹⁹ Marincola (2013) 74. ²⁰ Porter (1937) xvi–xvii; Walbank (1970) 293 = (2002) 93; Gruen (1972) 609. ²¹ For discrepancies and lies in Aratus’ Memoirs, see Marasco (2011) 110–12.

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suspicions that he is not adhering to his own principles in this instance. The implications of this are detrimental to both the positive image of Aratus that he puts forward and his arguments against Phylarchus. His acknowledgement of the Achaean leader’s omissions is uncomfortable, skimming over the ultimate implication of his argument: we cannot derive unfailingly truthful information from Aratus. It might be assumed, given Polybius’ admission of reliance on Aratus’ text, that he would recount the events between 250 and 220 exactly as Aratus told them. Yet, we should not trust this assumption uncritically. His interpretation of the events would also have been influenced by his own purpose and aims, both of which were very different from those of Aratus in his Memoirs.²² The latter’s autobiography fulfilled an agenda that was not about telling the straight truth in historical terms, but primarily about self-definition and ‘whitewashing’ his career.²³ Gabriele Marasco has pointed out how Aratus’ Memoirs fit the general tendency of autobiography at the time to underline the political role and achievements of the protagonist and defend his conduct. The work is similarly not opposed to other usual practices of the genre, including exaggerations of success, accusations against adversaries, blatant falsehoods, and significant silences.²⁴ We know, for example, from Plutarch that Aratus lied about his ‘minimal’ involvement in the attempted occupation of Piraeus, an endeavour which he had pursued in order to force Athens away from her alliance with Macedon (Plut. Arat. 33). His accounts of the liberation of Sicyon and the Acrocorinthus, and his crossing to Egypt, as detailed by Plutarch and all undoubtedly taken from Aratus’ Memoirs, were also described in dramatic and romantic tones emphasizing his success (Plut. Arat. 6.1–9.2, 12, 20–3).²⁵ The purpose of Aratus’ Memoirs was not only the justification of his radical change of policy after years of actively removing all traces of Macedonian influence from the Peloponnese. It was also meant to portray their author as a defender of Greek liberty, a champion against tyrants, and a ‘solicitous father of his country . . . ready for everything for the good of his fellow citizens’.²⁶ We must, of course, keep in mind that the method, content, orientation, and testimonies within the Memoirs, intended as a defence of political action, will all have affected the description of historical events within it. Polybius, however, approached Aratus’ work with his own agenda. This was sympathetic to, but did not quite overlap with, the Sicyonian’s goals. Polybius wanted to justify the League’s previous actions and make Aratus part of an insightful and beneficial change of policy that furthered the federation’s agenda of freedom against tyranny. Therefore, although Polybius explicitly claims to be

²² ²⁴ ²⁵ ²⁶

Marasco (2011) 105–7. ²³ See Tarn (1913) appendix 3 and Walbank (1933) 7. Marasco (2011) 111–19. See also Stadter (2015) 164–9 for Plutarch’s treatment of these events. Marasco (2011) 107, 117; Stadter (2015) 161–75.

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using Aratus’ text for this section of his narrative, we should not be complacent in assuming that he followed Aratus without qualification and comment. His account of Aratus’ ‘secret diplomatic manoeuvres’ with Antigonus Doson in 227  (Plb. 2.47.3–52.9) is illustrative of this point and equally showcases how he set up the early relationship between the Achaean League, Aratus, and Macedon in positive terms.

The ‘Secret Negotiations’ with Macedon in 227  According to Polybius’ narrative, when Aratus saw the energy and daring of the Spartan king Cleomenes and perceived that the Aetolian League would soon join him in making war against the Achaean League, he decided to take action and attempt to spoil Cleomenes’ plans in the Peloponnese (2.47.3–6). He determined to sound out Antigonus Doson on the idea of an alliance between the Achaean League and Macedon but did not want to do so openly as this might allow the enemy to outbid him and might arouse contempt from his countrymen for his own reversal of principles after years of working against Macedonian power. Aratus therefore decided to carry out his plan by covert means (2.47.7: ἀδήλως αὐτὰ διενοεῖτο χειρίζειν). He picked two Megalopolitans, Nicophanes and Cercidas, to conduct the meeting not only because they were friends of his family, but also because they came from a city that had been on good terms with the royal house of Macedon since the time of Philip II (2.48.1–5). Through them, Polybius outlines, the Megalopolitans were inspired to send an embassy to the Achaean League begging it to allow them to make an appeal to Antigonus for aid.²⁷ The League agreed and the Megalopolitan embassy met with Antigonus. Nicophanes and Cercidas explained the general situation to the king and advised him to look to the future (2.49.6: σκοπεῖν οὖν αὐτὸν ἠξίουν προορώμενον τὸ μέλλον), warning against a Spartan–Aetolian alliance (2.48.6–49.9). They assured him that once the service they demanded was rendered from him, Aratus would find satisfactory terms for both parties. Aratus would also dictate the date when his aid would be required (2.49.10). Polybius then tells us that the king agreed to come to their assistance, sending a letter to the Megalopolitans in confirmation of his willingness and goodwill ²⁷ For Nicophanes and Cercidas and their roles as intermediaries between Aratus and Antigonus Doson, see Paschidis (2008) 237, 276–9 and Kralli (2017) 223–6. Beyond this reference Nicophanes is unknown, but Cercidas could have been a descendant of the Cercidas attacked by Demosthenes as a pro-Macedonian, installed in Megalopolis by Philip II (Walbank (1957) 247). He was also the commander of the Megalopolitan contingent at Sellasia (Plb. 2.65.3). Cercidas has variously been identified as a distinguished poet, Cynic philosopher and commander, and lawgiver from Megalopolis. Cruces (1995) 6–37 sees the statesman and lawgiver as the same person, rejecting the identification of the poet who attacked the rich in his poems. Paschidis (2008) 277–9 also expresses the unlikelihood of the poet and lawgiver being the Cercidas in Polybius.

    

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(2.50.1–2). At the same time, Aratus received private information from Nicophanes of the king’s favourable inclination towards the League and himself and considered it a great advantage (πάνυ δὲ πρὸς λόγον ἡγεῖτο γίνεσθαι) that the Megalopolitans had consented to approach Doson through the Achaeans, wanting the appeal to come legally from both himself and the League as a whole (2.50.5). If the appeal had come only from himself, Polybius indicates, Aratus feared that he would be blamed for any unwelcome moves made by the king, for which Doson could invoke a legal justification (referring to Aratus’ seizure of the Acrocorinthus from Macedonian control in 234 while the League and Macedon were at peace). Aratus then appeared before the General Council of the League, showing them the king’s letter and urging the Achaeans to ask for his intervention. Seeing that they were inclined to do just that, he praised the king for his ready help and then begged the Achaeans to attempt to save their own cities and country first as this was by far the more honourable and advantageous course of action (οὐδὲν γὰρ εἶναι τούτου κάλλιον οὐδὲ συμφορώτερον); only under duress should they resort to an appeal for aid (2.50.6–11). This was agreed upon, but disasters soon followed the Achaean war effort and Doson was asked to step in and confirm an alliance with the League. At first, negotiations concerning the question of the possession of the Acrocorinthus proved problematic in ratifying terms. However, when the Corinthians, members of the League, intended to defect to Cleomenes, Aratus agreed to hand over the citadel to Doson to prevent the city’s betrayal (2.51.1–52.4). The historicity of these ‘secret negotiations’ has been discussed by Gruen and Paschidis, each taking a different stance. A consideration of their arguments will be fruitful in assessing Polybius’ workings. In his analysis of this episode, Gruen asserted that these ‘secret diplomatic manoeuvres’ were incongruous and suspicious. First, they are not consistent with Aratus’ policy of removing Macedonian influence from the Peloponnese, to which he had dedicated himself so intensely throughout his career thus far.²⁸ Secondly, the sources for this embassy in 227 are problematic.²⁹ Polybius himself implies that Aratus did not mention the secret negotiations in his Memoirs when he admits, right before his own account of them, that the Achaean leader did not disclose every detail of his political career because of the sensitivity of certain activities.³⁰ Significantly, Plutarch pointedly contrasts Polybius’ account of the secret talks with the information found in Aratus’ Memoirs: he states that Aratus said everything he could to explain the necessity that was upon him, but made no mention of secret negotiations; while Polybius explicitly states that for a long time, and even before the necessity arose, Aratus suspected the daring of Cleomenes and negotiated secretly with Doson, as well as encouraging the Megalopolitans to beg the Achaeans to call in the ²⁸ Gruen (1972) 610–15. ²⁹ Gruen (1972) 617. ³⁰ Pédech (1964) 157; Gruen (1972) 617–18.

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Macedonian king (Plut. Arat. 38.7). Aratus, therefore, apparently did not admit to being part of secret negotiations before the alliance with the king in 224  and does not seem to have mentioned them in his Memoirs. The ‘unofficial’ nature of these consultations would also have meant that they would not have been documented in public records. What is more, there is similarly no surviving Megalopolitan tradition to supply this evidence and no Megalopolitan informants are mentioned in Polybius’ work.³¹ Polybius even states that oral accounts for this period were not taken, because he considered the oral tradition for any time before 220 to be unreliable (Plb. 4.2.1–3). Furthermore, Plutarch mentions the presence of the earlier negotiations within Phylarchus’ text, making this their earliest known attestation.³² Based on this point, Gruen suggested Polybius picked up these secret dealings from the work of Phylarchus who he claims invented them to illustrate Aratus’ treachery in inviting the Macedonians into an alliance against Cleomenes, instead of reconciling with another Greek and fellow Peloponnesian.³³ Paschidis, however, finds Gruen’s conclusions extreme and ultimately unrealistic.³⁴ He states that, although Aratus is said to have withheld information about the embassy of 227 that does not mean that the statesman suppressed all information about it and suggests that the Memoirs could have been one of Polybius’ sources if he read them carefully. Moreover, it is implausible that Polybius would have used Phylarchus as an exclusive source for such an important episode when he vilifies him so severely only a few paragraphs later and accuses him of being entirely untrustworthy (2.56–63). Therefore, if Polybius used Phylarchus it must have been in conjunction with other sources, that is, Aratus and/or a local oral tradition from Megalopolis. Regarding Polybius’ claim that he did not generally use oral sources for this period (4.2.1–3), Paschidis counters that this statement does not mean that he never used them at all.³⁵ Since the relevant oral tradition would have come from Polybius’ hometown, Megalopolis, he would have been well placed to judge the credibility of such an oral tradition and would have probably used it. Finally, he claims that these manoeuvres between 227 and 224 were not inconsistent with Aratus’ previous policy either. Instead, Aratus consciously and consistently promoted a settlement with the Macedonians to counteract Cleomenes’ increasing power and influence. The early meetings with Doson were, moreover, exploratory in nature, looking out for contingency plans against future dangers. His veto in the spring assembly of 226 may seem hypocritical in view of these earlier enquiries; however, it was voiced because, despite the

³¹ Gruen (1972) 618. ³² Gruen (1972) 618–19. See also Walbank HCP I 11–12; (1972) 79; and cf. Larsen (1968) 316–17. ³³ Gruen’s argument has received support from Ehrhardt (1975) 250–5; Urban (1979) 117–55. ³⁴ Paschidis (2008) 241–4. For other views on the historicity of the secret negotiations see Walbank (1933) 70–88; Porter (1937) xix; Walbank (1940) 14; Walbank HCP I 246; Le Bohec (1993) 364–7; and Champion (2004) 122. ³⁵ Paschidis (2008) 242–3. Cf. Ehrhardt (1975) 252–3, who agrees with Gruen except for this point.

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goodwill shown by Doson, Aratus did not want to bring in Macedonian aid and incur an Achaean loss of power unless it was necessary. In the end, in view of Cleomenes’ continued successes, the social unrest in the cities of the League, and the prospect of the Spartan king assuming the leadership of the whole Peloponnese, this contingency plan was necessary and later put into action. Following these lines, Paschidis argues that these secret negotiations were in fact historical and that Polybius did not only use Phylarchus, but rather a range of additional sources for his account.³⁶ Clearly this episode is fraught with difficulties and the historicity of the matter is unlikely to ever be resolved satisfactorily. Both arguments rest on two different conceptions of Polybius’ working methodology and principles: one which envisages Polybius as not averse to using information which he knows to be false in the pursuit of his own image of Aratus; the other taking the opposite view and trusting in Polybius’ expressed principle to record events as factually as he conceivably can. Overall, Paschidis’ argument is the more persuasive, although there may be one point of contention. His claim that Aratus could have been used as a source is problematic given the fact that both Polybius and Plutarch state the vagueness of his account. Aratus’ assertion that he did what was necessary under difficult circumstances does not negate the existence of these secret dealings, of course, but does make it more unlikely that they were explicitly mentioned in the Memoirs. However, Paschidis’ suggestion that Polybius would not pick up the secret negotiations from Phylarchus if there was no other evidence for them is convincing. Polybius’ hostility towards the work of his predecessor is renowned and it would be too disparaging an assessment of Polybius if one were to posit that he exclusively used information drawn from an account that he vehemently proclaimed as untrustworthy. Moreover, although Polybius claims not to have used oral traditions for this period, this is only a general statement, and it would not be surprising if he had made an exception in this case. As it stands, it appears that Phylarchus’ account of these secret manoeuvres was their first occurrence in the literature. However, we might ask where Phylarchus got his information. Would he really have wholly made up the secret negotiations just to discredit Aratus? This seems unlikely and as we will see in the following sections, despite Polybius’ hostility towards him, his information is factually accurate even if it is presented in a sensational or exaggerated manner. Furthermore, had these dealings been a figment of Phylarchus’ imagination, Polybius would surely have picked up on it and used this evidence to discredit Phylarchus for falsehood even further in his polemic at 2.56–63 (see below for details). It therefore appears that both Phylarchus and Polybius had access to at least one other source besides Aratus, and it would not be implausible to suppose an oral tradition.

³⁶ Kralli (2017) 225 and Shipley (2018) 68 also take these negotiations to be historical.

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Irrespective of the episode’s historicity, it demonstrates that Polybius did not follow Aratus’ Memoirs as closely as some have suggested, but also used other sources to supplement his account. It is an important instance of how Polybius constructed his image of the Achaean leader and how his political bias affected the interpretation of events. Phylarchus would undoubtedly have used these negotiations to show Aratus in a negative way, emphasizing how he preferred to bring in a Macedonian overlord rather than reconcile with a fellow Peloponnesian (this criticism is voiced in Plutarch and most likely comes from Phylarchus: Plut. Arat. 38.3–4). Such a portrait would depict Aratus as far more interested in protecting his own power and status than sticking to his removal of Macedonian influence in the Peloponnese. Polybius, however, spins a different tale. The decision to summon Macedonian help is viewed as an attempt to hinder the encroachment of a Spartan ‘tyrant’ (2.47.3) and his treacherous Aetolian allies: both forces were a threat to Hellenic liberty (Philip V is also interpreted as a threat to the Hellenic community in the build-up to the Achaean League’s defection from him in 198 ; see Chapter 4 for further discussion).³⁷ Acceding to Doson, who is represented by Polybius as a morally sound ruler, would be a lesser evil than allowing the ‘tyrant’ Cleomenes to take control of the League and the Peloponnese. Aratus is therefore shown to be in control and a committed, insightful, and prudent leader of the Achaean League.³⁸ Another instance of Polybius tailoring information in order to present Aratus in a good light in this period is his omission of Aratus’ series of failed negotiations with Sparta between 226 and 224 , information which only survives in Plutarch (Arat. 39–42; Cleom. 15.1–2, 17.1–5, 19.1–4).³⁹ These negotiations were discussed in both Aratus’ and Phylarchus’ work (in Aratus’ Memoirs at Cleom. 17.2, cf. Plut. Arat. 39.1–3; implied also in Phylarchus at Cleom. 15–16.5, 19.4): in Aratus’ Memoirs, Plutarch explicitly states, it was claimed that Cleomenes was jointly responsible for the failure to find reconciliation; in Phylarchus, however, the failure is blamed entirely on Aratus and his obstinate nature. For Aratus, the inclusion of these negotiations in his autobiography would have suited him perfectly well as he could deflect responsibility for the failure onto someone else and consequently argue that he only acceded to the alliance with Macedon because of the necessity that this failure caused. Their inclusion would also have suited Phylarchus’ intentions of maligning the Sicyonian. Neither version was acceptable to Polybius, however, since Phylarchus’ account turned Aratus into the ³⁷ Significantly, Cleomenes is only termed a ‘tyrant’ and the Spartan constitution a ‘tyranny’ when Polybius refers to him in relation to the Achaean League and Cleomenean War (2.47.7). Otherwise, he is termed a king and the Spartan constitution a ‘monarchy’ (2.45.2, 23.11.5). The more negative term would have been used to support Polybius’ positive picture of the League and defence of their decision not to join with Cleomenes. ³⁸ Cf. Kralli (2017) 226, who also comes to this conclusion in arguing that it is unlikely that the envoys would have been so arrogant as to tell Doson to wait for Aratus’ instructions. ³⁹ See Kralli (2017) 238–45 for a full discussion of these negotiations.

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villain and Aratus’ account explained his shift in policy towards Macedon as the result of begrudging and involuntary acceptance of necessity caused by others’ failures to find agreement. Neither explanation fits into Polybius’ image of the Achaean leader as the careful and perceptive engineer of an alliance which would save Greece from the Spartan tyrant.⁴⁰ Consequently, little is mentioned of the meetings between Aratus and Cleomenes in the Histories as their narration would have drawn attention to the fact that an agreement with Sparta could have been reached had Aratus been more accommodating, and that it had therefore not been as essential to bring Macedon into an alliance. Polybius prefers to emphasize, however, that the alliance with Macedon was necessary and that Aratus was already ahead of the game by coordinating secretly with Doson and gaining his favour. Aratus is consequently portrayed not as stubborn and uncooperative, but as a leader who is in control and honourable in his actions.

The Defence of Achaean Actions: Mantinea and Aristomachus At the end of Book 2, Polybius enforces his image of a lawful, just, and democratic Achaean League and a noble, insightful Aratus by a defence of their treatment in 223 of the city of Mantinea and the ex-tyrant Aristomachus of Argos (Plb. 2.56–61). Both acts had received censure for being excessively cruel, specifically by Phylarchus (as indicated by Plb. 2.56–63 and Plut. Arat. 38.8) and perhaps also more generally (Plut. Arat. 38.4, 44.4, 45.3–6), and this denunciation needed addressing if Polybius’ image of the League and Aratus was to stand firm. Unfortunately, neither Aratus’ nor Phylarchus’ account survives to allow us a detailed outline of these two instances, however we can form a rough sketch from the comments of Polybius and Plutarch. Regarding the first instance, the treatment of Mantinea, Polybius claims that the Mantineans were treated with leniency when the city first fell into Achaean hands in 227, yet they soon betrayed this trust by making overtures to Cleomenes and massacring the Achaean garrison. When the city was retaken by the League in 223, as Plutarch narrates and Polybius eventually admits after long discussion, some of the Mantinean leaders were executed and others sold into slavery along with their women and children (Plb. 2.57–8; Plut. Arat. 45.4).⁴¹ In the end, Polybius is unable to discredit Phylarchus’ truthfulness when it comes to the factual developments at Mantinea. Not only does Polybius finally end up admitting the accuracy of his source, but Plutarch also gives evidence in support of it. In this instance, Plutarch uses a combination of Aratus’ Memoirs, Phylarchus’

⁴⁰ Gruen (1972) 622–3. ⁴¹ For the Achaean relationship with and treatment of the Mantineans, see Kralli (2017) 245–7.

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narrative, and Polybius’ Histories, and he would very likely have pointed out any striking differences in the record if there had been any.⁴² Once Polybius has grudgingly consented to the accuracy of Phylarchus’ reconstruction, he then attacks Phylarchus for his depiction of the episode. He apparently described the Achaeans as acting with unnecessary cruelty in an overly sensational manner and consequently steered his readers towards an overly sympathetic response (Plb. 2.58.11–15)—an accusation not altogether uncommon for Phylarchus, but one that is unsatisfactory in light of Polybius’ failed attack against his accuracy of information (cf. Plut. Arat. 38.8).⁴³ Polybius then counters the view that the treatment was excessive by explaining that the severity was understandable and necessary given the Achaean League’s earlier betrayal by Mantinea (Plb. 2.58.4–12).⁴⁴ He adds that if the Achaeans were as cruel as Phylarchus had indicated and did not have a reasonable cause for their behaviour they would have treated Tegea in a similarly severe manner.⁴⁵ This statement, however, compromises the image of the League as a consistent and impartial institution based on law and order as it highlights the differing treatments of Tegea and Mantinea and suggests an arbitrary and inconsistent policy toward disillusioned members.⁴⁶ Polybius’ defence of Achaean actions therefore forces him to impose inconsistency on the very image he wants to portray of the Achaeans. The second criticism aimed at Aratus and the League was the unlawful way in which they tortured Aristomachus of Argos and threw his body into the sea. This man was originally a tyrant of Argos, but he had freely renounced his power in 230  and attached his city to the Achaean League (Plb. 2.59–60; Plut. Arat. 44.4). The main accusation against Aratus was that he had unjustly allowed this man to be put to death—a man who had possessed no wickedness (οὐ πονηρόν) and had freely cooperated with the Achaean leader and enjoined his city to the League (ἀλλὰ καὶ κεχρημένον ἐκείνῳ καὶ πεπεισμένον ἀφεῖναι τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ προσαγαγεῖν τοῖς Ἀχαιοῖς τὴν πόλιν, ὅμως περιιδὼν παρανόμως ἀπολλύμενον). He was even strategos of the League for a term (Plb. 2.60.5). However, Polybius argues against Phylarchus’ negative account on four accounts: the first, is that his narrative was once again overly sensational; the second, is that such a death befitted a tyrant (even an ex-tyrant, it seems);⁴⁷ the third, is that Aristomachus had tortured and put to death eighty leading Argive citizens when they had tried to betray the city to ⁴² See Walbank (1933) 15–19 and Stadter (2015) 162 for Plutarch’s use of sources in his Life of Aratus. ⁴³ Walbank (1933) 5. ⁴⁴ See Thornton (2020b) 52–63 for Polybius’ use of oratorical strategies to counter Phylarchus’ argument, which adheres to the ‘hidden transcript’ of the subordinate Mantinaeans, and to expound the ‘public transcript’ of the dominant Achaean League aiming to promote its ideology of freedom. ⁴⁵ Polybius makes reference to the laws of war at 2.58.7: τὰ κοινὰ τῶν ἀνθρώπων δίκαια παραβάντες τὸ μέγιστον ἀσέβημα κατὰ προαίρεσιν ἐπετέλεσαν. See Chapter 3 for further discussion. ⁴⁶ Champion (2004) 12. ⁴⁷ For Polybius’ comments on tyranny and tyrants, see Chapter 4.

    

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the Achaeans (clearly before he had attached it to the Achaean League himself; Plb. 2.59);⁴⁸ and the fourth is that, while he had initially allied himself and his city with the League, he withdrew from the agreement and betrayed the Achaeans when it looked like the war would favour Cleomenes (Plb. 2.60).⁴⁹ While Phylarchus could rightly be criticized for his sensationalism, and Polybius was undoubtedly influenced by the general hostility held towards tyrants in Greece, these two counter-arguments are still unsatisfactory in explaining the severity of Aristomachus’ death. The last two statements—the claim that the Achaeans were justified in dealing out death and judgement because of Aristomachus’ massacre of Argive citizens and later ‘betrayal’ of the League— obscure the political reality and ignore the severity of the situation for the Achaean League at the time. Plutarch shows that there was a string of Achaean losses: the capture of Mantinea (39.1), the defeat of the League at Hecatombaeum (39.1), their near loss of Sicyon (39.3), and their actual loss of Pellene (39.3), Pheneus, and Penteleium (39.3). Therefore, rightly or wrongly, for both Aristomachus himself and his city the purging of the Argive leaders and the betrayal of the League would have seemed the most sensible actions to take at the time.⁵⁰ Aristomachus’ claim had to be vilified, however, to protect the Achaean reputation and promote their own official version of events, and Polybius aimed to achieve this by a tirade against his status as an ‘ex-tyrant’ and for having committed crimes against his own people. Yet, this defence of the Achaeans’ execution of Aristomachus looks very much like special pleading. Moreover, there originally seemed to be little concern in the League for Aristomachus’ earlier career as a socalled ‘tyrant’ when he rescinded his position and brought Argos into their confederation in 230. Nor was there any indication that he had resumed a tyrannical position once he had joined forces with Cleomenes.⁵¹ Furthermore, the League had guaranteed his safety upon his laying down his rule and joining them. Despite Polybius’ efforts, therefore, the presentation of the League as primarily preoccupied with proper legal procedures, equality, and freedom of speech is once again compromised by his own defence and elaboration of this incident. What is most revealing of Polybius’ partisan perspective, however, is the fact that he does not treat these deeds in a similar way to others he criticizes in his Histories. Interestingly, his defence of Achaean conduct does not mention the reputation that they could have won for leniency and humanity if their actions had been less severe. It is an argument that is used with force against others, ⁴⁸ It might be noted that Aratus was also accused of executing citizens from Sicyon, his own city, who were in correspondence with Cleomenes, Plut. Arat. 49.2. Polybius makes no mention of this. ⁴⁹ Cf. Larsen (1968) 321. For Argos’ defection to Cleomenes in 225 and the subsequent harsh treatment of Aristomachus by the Achaean League following the city’s recapture, see Kralli (2017) 225–36. ⁵⁰ Cf. Kralli (2017) 235. ⁵¹ Champion (2004) 126.

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particularly against Philip V following his attack on Thermum (5.9–12): the king is criticized for retaliating against the Aetolian attacks on the sanctuaries of Dium and Dodona with a similar act of sacrilege at Thermum. According to Polybius, Philip should have acted far more leniently not only to gain a reputation for humanity, but also to teach the Aetolians by example the error of their ways and correct conduct in warfare (this is discussed in more detail in Chapter 3). The lack of any retrospective moralizing in Polybius’ account of the treatment of Mantinea and Aristomachus becomes strongly suspect in light of this later episode and may consequently be read as a sharp indication of the historian’s subjectivity. The attempt to deflect blame for the harshness of these actions from the Achaean League in this case highlights Polybius’ relatively flexible relationship with morality and his willingness to soften his stance regarding correct behaviour when it suited his political purpose.⁵² Thus, Phylarchus’ version of these two events, portraying the Achaeans as cruel and unlawful and perhaps representing the views of subaltern groups in the League and Peloponnese, did not sit well with Polybius’ own political leanings and he therefore felt the need to discredit Phylarchus’ history as overly sensational and to undermine it for its veracity (Plb. 2.62–3; Plut. Arat. 38.12). However, as this disagreement is primarily based upon political differences not fact, Polybius’ censure soon fails to stand firm when his rhetorical workings and manipulations are put to the test. In attempting to protect the reputation of Aratus and the Achaean League in this instance, Polybius in fact compromises it.

Aratus of Sicyon: The Best of the Achaeans Polybius’ esteem for Aratus and his work was remarkably high. Not only did he take the end of Aratus’ Memoirs as the starting point for his own history, but he also credited him with extraordinary foresight and nobility in conducting the political negotiations with Doson in 227. This image of the Achaean leader, while at times tempered by discussion of his failings (Plb. 4.8) and undoubtedly in many ways accurate, is still decidedly positive. It is a perspective which appears consistently throughout the account of Aratus’ life: from his rise as the initiator (ἀρχηγός) and conceiver (καθηγεμών) of the unification of the Peloponnese, his seizure of the Acrocorinthus from the Macedonians, his persuasion of other cities to join the federation, his governance of the League, and his adherence to one clear antiMacedonian policy, to his ever morally good and righteous counselling of Philip V (Plb. 2.40.4, 43.4–6, 43.8–9; see Chapter 2).⁵³ We see very little in ⁵² Cf. Thornton (2020b) 62 for Polybius’ flexible attitude towards the Greek aristocratic ethical system. ⁵³ See Larsen (1968) 217–19, 305–13.

    

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Polybius’ narrative that would point to Aratus being anything other than benevolent and considerate, although it should be noted that there is a brief mention of Aratus’ threatening behaviour at 2.44.3 in bringing Peloponnesian cities into the League.⁵⁴ This, however, is immediately softened by Polybius’ implication that the cities which were brought into the League greatly benefited from it. Overall, Aratus is not a leader who condones the excessive treatment of his enemies, but is shown to support the propagation of leniency, equality, and freedom. Significantly, Aratus stands almost completely alone on the political scene. Polybius very rarely mentions the presence of other leaders involved in the establishment of the Achaean League, and this continues later in his description of its decision-making processes.⁵⁵ By his isolation, Aratus is depicted as the only player with any real significance, a feature which may also affect or weaken the claims about the regular governance of the Achaean League and its annual magistrate. As we will see in the following chapter, his pre-eminence is also reinforced in Philip V’s court: the Achaean leader is placed in explicit opposition with Philip’s Macedonian advisers (Apelles, Leontius, and Megaleas), as well as with the Illyrian friend of the king, Demetrius of Pharus. In each case, Aratus is placed in the position of the good and noble party. Before we follow this chronological thread, however, we should first consider Plutarch’s depiction of Aratus from which a fuller understanding of the politician’s character, agenda, and historical importance might be obtained. Through this discussion it will be possible to expose some of the consequences of Polybius’ subjectivity, and his elision and omission of certain events and attitudes towards Aratus. This will enable us to appreciate better how this bias affects not only his telling of the emergence and prominence of the Achaean League and Aratus’ role within it, but also how Polybius constructs other episodes in his Histories, including Aratus’ presence at Philip’s court and the League’s later relationship with Macedon. While Plutarch cannot be said to be a historian and the difficulties of using his Lives as a historical source are significant, his Aratus nonetheless offers us a fuller and more balanced picture of Aratus’ career than Polybius does.⁵⁶ Through it not only do we see positive depictions of the man similar to Polybius’ descriptions, but we also become witness to moments when Aratus was not perceived so well and when he was criticized for his actions. It has already been discussed how Aratus was reproached for his treatment of Aristomachus at Aratus 44.14; however, it soon becomes apparent that this was not the only instance for which he was

⁵⁴ For the coercive and cruel nature of the Achaean League and Aratus, see Kralli (2017) 150–1, 156–88. ⁵⁵ Except Margos of Caryneia, who was strategos before Aratus rose to prominence, Plb. 2.43.1–3. For Margos, see Larsen (1968) 216–17, and Kralli (2017) 156–7. ⁵⁶ For the relationship of Plutarch’s Lives with historiography, see e.g. Wardman (1974) 1–12 and Pelling (2002) 147–53. For a comparison of Polybius’ and Plutarch’s characterizations of Aratus, see also Pelling (1988) 264–7.

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censured. For example, Aratus was often criticized for his lack of skill in open combat, a failing which was also briefly admitted by Polybius (Plb. 4.8; Plut. Arat. 2–4). Plutarch describes how he was ‘accused of abandoning the struggle and throwing away the victory’ after a battle against Aristippus at the river Chares (28), and how he was constitutionally never well suited for battle (36.3). Stories circulated about how he suffered from stomach cramps before a fight, from fits of dizziness whenever the trumpeter stood by to give the signal, and how after drawing up his forces he would ask his officers whether there was any further need of his presence and then go off to await the outcome from a distance (29.5). He was reproached for not coming to the Achaean commander Lydiadas’ aid in the battle against Cleomenes near Megalopolis (37). This was viewed as a betrayal of Lydiadas and the League and resulted in the latter’s refusal to supply Aratus with money and mercenaries (37.3). Equally, Aratus was criticized for violating the period of asylum during the games at Argos (28.3–4), for preventing Aristomachus from joining battle with Cleomenes at Pallantium in 228 (35.4–5), and for refusing to take office in 224 , an act perceived by some as a betrayal of the state (38.2–4). Finally, upset was caused by his harsh treatment of the Sicyonian and Corinthian leaders who had sided with Cleomenes (40.1–3), his transfer of Corinth and Orchomenus to the Macedonians, his provision of food and pay to the Macedonian army, and the games that he celebrated in Doson’s honour (45.1–3). These instances demonstrate, in contrast to Polybius’ portrait, just how difficult Aratus could make things for the League, not only by his military incompetence, but also by his uncooperative and competitive behaviour. Plutarch indicates that Aratus’ career, despite Polybius’ veil presupposing a smooth and controlled political life, had many ups and downs for which we might at best get the vaguest of references in the Histories. Yet, despite his flaws and adverse reputation, Plutarch expresses a favourable assessment of Aratus, considering him to be ‘by nature a public figure, high-minded, more exact in his public than in his private relations, a bitter hater of tyrants, and ever making a regard for the public weal determine his enmity or his friendship’ (Plut. Arat. 10.1).⁵⁷ He dedicates his Life of Aratus to his friend Polycrates (otherwise unknown) and his sons, to whom Aratus is suggested as an appropriate figure of emulation (Arat. 1).⁵⁸ What is particularly important to our understanding of the Achaean leader in Plutarch’s Aratus is that we also get to see the appearance of other contemporary leaders of the Achaean League working with or in contention with Aratus in ⁵⁷ Plut. Arat. 10.1: τῷ τρόπῳ πολιτικός, μεγαλόφρων, ἀκριβέστερος εἰς τὰ κοινὰ μᾶλλον τῶν ἰδίων, πικρῶς μισοτύραννος, ἔχθρας ὅρῳ καὶ φιλίας ἀεὶ τῷ κοινῷ συμφέροντι χρώμενος . . . Pelling (1988) 266–7 sees Plutarch’s Aratus as a clear example of ‘integrated’ characterization and observes that Plutarch’s portrayal of him has a clearer paradigmatic relevance than Polybius’. ⁵⁸ See Stadter (2015) 161–75 for Plutarch’s dedication, as well as his construction of Aratus as a noble figure appropriate for emulation.

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greater detail. In the Histories, we are only provided with brief mentions of other figures who helped build the strength and prestige of the League: the Achaean leader Margos of Caryneia, who led the League before Aratus, is merely given two lines (Plb. 2.41.14, 2.43.2–3); Timoxenus, strategos in 224 , is only mentioned for his surprise capture of Argos after its revolt from Cleomenes and again only described as Aratus’ chosen candidate against the Macedonian-backed Eperatus in 218  (2.53.2, 4.82.8); Lydiadas, an ex-tyrant of Megalopolis who held the position of strategos for three terms, is only given two short sentences (2.44.5 and 2.51.3); Aristomachus of Argos, besides appearing in Polybius’ tirade against Phylarchus (2.59–60), is only mentioned in the narrative when he joins Argos to the League at 2.44.6 and his position of strategos is only admitted in pursuit of the argument that the League treated him well at 2.60.5; and, finally, Eperatus, the Macedonian-backed strategos in 218 , is mentioned merely by name in 4.82.8, 5.1, and 5.5, and simply described as incompetent in 5.30 and 5.91.⁵⁹ The fact that other Achaean leaders are given the briefest of mentions in the Histories highlights Polybius’ preferential treatment of Aratus. Not all the leaders were treated equally, and we therefore only get a partial impression of the League’s internal workings. Plutarch’s work does not, of course, give an account of all the leaders working in the Achaean League at the time, but it does present a more balanced picture of Achaean politics and the logistics of warfare. A prominent example is the role of Lydiadas, the ex-tyrant of Megalopolis, who appears in a much fuller role in Plutarch than is evident in Polybius. In the Histories, mention of this leader is very briefly summarized in two short passages: Λυδιάδας μὲν οὖν ὁ Μεγαλοπολίτης ἔτι ζῶντος Δημητρίου, κατὰ τὴν αὑτοῦ προαίρεσιν, πάνυ πραγματικῶς καὶ φρονίμως προϊδόμενος τὸ μέλλον ἀπετέθειτο τὴν τυραννίδα καὶ μετεσχήκει τῆς ἐθνικῆς συμπολιτείας. (2.44.5) Lydiadas of Megalopolis in the lifetime of [King] Demetrius, by his own choice, foreseeing what would happen with great pragmatism and good sense, laid down his tyranny and took a share in the ethnic confederation. οἱ δ᾽ Ἀχαιοὶ τὸ μὲν πρῶτον ἠλαττώθησαν περὶ τὸ Λύκαιον, συμπλακέντες κατὰ πορείαν τῷ Κλεομένει, τὸ δὲ δεύτερον ἐκ παρατάξεως ἡττήθησαν ἐν τοῖς Λαδοκείοις καλουμένοις τῆς Μεγαλοπολίτιδος, ὅτε καὶ Λυδιάδας ἔπεσε, τὸ δὲ τρίτον ὁλοσχερῶς ἔπταισαν ἐν τῇ Δυμαίᾳ περὶ τὸ καλούμενον Ἑκατόμβαιον, πανδημεὶ διακινδυνεύοντες . . . (2.51.3)

⁵⁹ For Margos, see above n. 55. For Timoxenus, see Larsen (1968) 216–17 and Paschidis (2008) 285–6; for Lydiadas of Megalopolis and the incorporation of Megalopolis into the Achaean League, see Porter (1937) xix, Pédech (1964) 156, Larsen (1968) 315–16, Gruen (1972) 614, Nicholson (2017), and Kralli (2017) 176–8, 221–3; for Aristomachus II, the incorporation of Argos into the Achaean League, see Larsen (1968) 311–15, 321, Paschidis (2008) 209–24, and Kralli (2017) 169–77; for Eperatus of Pharae, see Larsen (1968) 227, 233, 345–7, 350, and Paschidis (2008) 286–7.

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   The first time the Achaeans were worsted near Lycaeum, engaging with Cleomenes while on the march, and the second they were defeated in pitched battle at a place in the territory of Megalopolis called Ladoceia, when Lydiadas fell; and the third time, their whole force fell completely in a place called Hecatombaeum in the territory of Dyme . . .

At his entrance Lydiadas is described as pragmatic and sensible; at his death he is depicted far more neutrally. The positivity of the first statement can only have arisen from Polybius’ perception that to throw down a tyranny was honourable and to join with the justice-loving and democratic Achaean League even more so. The second statement denies any involvement by Aratus in these failures and omits the censure he received for his refusal to help Lydiadas. In Plutarch’s narrative, by contrast, Lydiadas takes up three chapters (30, 35, 37). While the account is generally negative towards him and suggests that Plutarch was using Aratus’ Memoirs as a source, it is still valuable in reconstructing the movements of the ex-tyrant within the League. Lydiadas first appears in the Aratus at chapter 30 as a tyrant who resigned from his position of power, joined his city Megalopolis to the Achaean League, and was then chosen as strategos by the Achaeans in 234 . According to Plutarch’s account, he is at once ambitious to surpass the reputation of Aratus, doing many things considered ‘unnecessary’ (ἄλλας τε πολλὰς πράξεις οὐκ ἀναγκαίας εἶναι δοκούσας) and even initiating a campaign against Sparta in order to do so. Aratus unsuccessfully tried to oppose Lydiadas, allegedly out of jealousy, in his second campaign for the office of strategos (232 ) but Lydiadas was held in favour until his third time as strategos (230 ). After he had frequently and openly denounced Aratus, however, he fell from favour as it became apparent (according to Plutarch) that he possessed an insincere character (πεπλασμένῳ ἤθει) and was contending against someone of genuine and unadulterated virtue (πρὸς ἀληθινὴν καὶ ἀκέραιον ἀρετὴν). His previous status as a tyrant never left him free from suspicion in a context that prided itself on its democratic credentials. In chapter 35, Aristomachus, the tyrant of Argos, has also been persuaded, supposedly by Aratus, to attach his city to the League. Lydiadas, still strategos, denounces Aratus to Aristomachus as a man who is always the enemy of tyrants and suggests that Aristomachus instead put all matters into his own hands. The Argive ex-tyrant is, however, initially sent away from the Achaean council because of Aratus’ opposition to the agreement, and it is only when Aratus has been won over again that Argos is admitted into the League and Aristomachus appointed strategos. The final passage, the end of chapter 37, shows Lydiadas’ distress at Aratus’ military inactivity when Cleomenes was set out in military formation in front of his own city Megalopolis. He decides to advance alone, throwing reproaches at the Sicyonian, and after bravely calling to his men is killed in action.

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Lydiadas’ career in the Achaean League seems to be far more substantial than Polybius describes, and so too the rivalry between the two statesmen and their unwillingness to cooperate. The adhesion of Megalopolis to the Achaean League increased its power but also triggered increasing internal disputes.⁶⁰ It was not only the personal rivalry between Aratus and Lydiadas that caused conflict, but also the differences in policy. Lydiadas had hoped to use Achaean resources and power to strike at Megalopolis’ traditional enemy, Sparta, and this was no doubt a large part of Lydiadas’ original reason for joining. Lydiadas was, however, obstructed by Aratus from following this policy. Aratus was more concerned about focusing the League’s energies on the removal of Macedonian influence from the Peloponnese and Greece, and increasing its political strength and independence, than about attacking the Spartans directly; his policy in the 230s, for instance, concentrated primarily on freeing Argos and Athens from Macedonian control (Plut. Arat. 33–4).⁶¹ Aratus probably knew that his own deficiency as a general and the overall military weakness of the League itself made success against Cleomenes uncertain and risky, and his removal of Macedonian control thereby aimed at creating a stronger powerbase from which the League could draw resources and men. Despite Polybius’ claims to League unity, a lack of cohesion is suggested by the fact that difficulties in following either policy soon arose and both leaders enjoyed a strong following within the League and the position of strategos alternated between them for six years.⁶² Aratus’ lack of action at Megalopolis in the face of Spartan threat, and his refusal to aid Lydiadas and Achaean forces when the latter decided to attack, was viewed as a betrayal of the League, one of its members (Megalopolis), and Lydiadas, and caused much condemnation against him (Plut. Arat. 36.3–37.3). However, even with Plutarch’s additional information we cannot be entirely sure about Lydiadas’ movements in the League. The negative nature of the passages and their briefness hides much of the detail. Plutarch omits, for example, the particulars of Lydiadas’ involvement in Aristomachus’ entrance into the League, as well as Aratus’ initial objection to it (35.2–3). Such information may not have been available to him. The episode comes across as vague and puzzling. Furthermore, Aratus’ jealousy of Lydiadas is explicitly stated in 30.3 and confirmed by his objection to Aristomachus’ admittance to the League under Lydiadas’ guidance at 35.3. Such emotion surely indicates that Lydiadas played a far bigger role in Achaean politics than Polybius allows and suggests that Aratus feared Lydiadas might soon eclipse him.⁶³ The ill-repute that resulted from ⁶⁰ Pédech (1964) 156–7. ⁶¹ Gruen (1972) 613. ⁶² Gruen (1984) 496 noted that it was typical practice in the Achaean League to rotate rival leaders in the highest office. Cf. Kralli (2017) 178 and 221 for this lack of unity in the Achaean League and how Lydiadas’ presence served to diminish Aratus’ position. ⁶³ Pédech (1964) 157.

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Aratus’ questionable interactions with Lydiadas would not, however, have been suitable for Polybius’ picture of Aratus as a just and fair statesman. Nor would the split in policy, aims, and factions this suggests have been suitable for the perpetuation of a strong cohesive League. Plutarch’s more detailed recording of Aratus’ career, therefore, shows up the one-sided and single-minded approach Polybius has taken in writing his sketch of the Achaean League from 251 . Praises were heaped on Aratus and the League as an institution alone, giving no ground to other leaders about whom even Aratus must have written in his Memoirs. Such information would have been necessary in vindicating his conduct and policy among contemporaries, but it was unnecessary in Polybius’ summary of Greek events down to 220 . The lack of Achaean leaders in Polybius’ work, alongside his explicit statements asserting that he is following Aratus’ account, gives the impression that the whole of the League was run and strengthened by this man alone. The underpinning logical assumption is that as the League consistently stood for freedom, democracy, and fair judgement, so too did Aratus. Yet Plutarch, separated personally from the politics and events at the time, and intending to provide a fuller account of Aratus’ life for emulation by future generations, has analysed Aratus’ character and contemporary events in a more balanced manner than Polybius. His expansion has allowed us to see how much of Aratus’ life Polybius has avoided discussing.

Part 2: The Relationship Between Aratus, Achaea, and Antigonus Doson Polybius’ initial positive assessment of Philip V is informed and supported by his interpretation of the Achaean–Macedonian relationship prior to Philip’s succession, particularly that between Aratus and Antigonus Doson. This section intends, therefore, to explore Polybius’ portrayal of the interactions between the Achaean League and Macedonian kings from Antigonus Gonatas to Antigonus Doson. Alongside a more balanced depiction of Aratus’ character, Plutarch’s work also provides a different and extended version of the Achaean leader’s dealings with the Macedonians, particularly with Antigonus Gonatas, Demetrius II, Antigonus Doson, and Philip V.⁶⁴ His relationship with the latter two kings is recorded as intimate—not only was he the primary correspondent in the alliance between the League and Macedon after 227 ,⁶⁵ but he also counted amongst their inner circle

⁶⁴ For Antigonus Gonatas, see Plut. Arat. 15, 17–23; Demetrius II, 34; Antigonus Doson, 38.6–7, 41.4, 42–6; and Philip V, 46, 47.4–52. See also Larsen (1968) 215–40, 303–58. ⁶⁵ See Paschidis (2008) 233–51; Mack (2015) 119–22.

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of royal friends (φίλοι).⁶⁶ Polybius presents these relationships as congenial and mutually beneficial in character, not only individually for Aratus and the kings, but also for the Achaean League. Plutarch, however, offers a different perspective on the political situation and his narrative helps to reveal a more realistic picture of the relationship between the Macedonians, Aratus, and the Achaean League, before and during Philip’s reign. In examining Plutarch’s account, we must bear in mind that the rendition of these events will be greatly affected by whether or not the source viewed Macedonian involvement in Greek and Peloponnesian affairs as beneficial. Plutarch is emphatically anti-Macedonian in this text and correspondingly censures Aratus for allowing the League to call upon the Macedonians instead of trying to reconcile the situation with a fellow Greek (Plut. Arat. 38.4; Cleom. 16).⁶⁷ In contrast, Polybius’ attitude towards the Macedonian kings is more complex. His depiction of them as positive or negative not only depended on his assessment of them as rulers, but also on how they related to Aratus and the development of power relations with the Achaean League. As Antigonus II Gonatas and Demetrius II fall outside the remit of the Histories, Polybius only deals with them in a cursory fashion in his summary of Achaean history. He only mentions Gonatas when Aratus’ takes the Acrocorinthus from him in 243  and describes him briefly as ‘a great source of fear’ (μεγάλου . . . φόβου), meddlesome (πολυπραγμοσύνην), and unscrupulous and daring (ἀδικίας καὶ τόλμης) in his decision to join the Aetolians and aid them in dissolving the Achaean League. His death in 239 , however, resulted in an alliance between the Achaean League and Aetolia (Plb. 2.43.4–44.1). The latter, Demetrius II, has even less said about him: he only reigned for ten years and his death, in 229 , caused difficulties for the Peloponnesian ‘tyrants’ who were supported by him.⁶⁸ These were later hounded by Aratus and many acceded to membership of the League (Plb. 2.44.1–3). It is not until the reign of Antigonus III Doson (229 ) that the relationship between the Achaean League and Macedon

⁶⁶ For Aratus and Doson, see Plb. 2.47–52, Plut. Arat. 43.2–5, and cf. Paschidis (2008) 236–45; for Aratus and Philip see Plb. 4.76, 4.82–6, 5.5–16, 7.11–14, 8.8–12, 9.23.9, and Plut. Arat. 48–9, and cf. Paschidis (2008) 245–50. Courts, royal ‘friends’ (philoi), and the nature of royal friendship has received considerable attention, see e.g. Herman (1997) 199–217 for the structures and etiquette of Hellenistic court society; Walbank (1984a) 68–71 for monarchic ideology; Austin (1986) 462–3 for kings, war, and the economy; Hammond (1989) 53–8 for the individuals and different components of the Macedonian court; Bringman (1993) 7–24 for the king as benefactor; Konstan (1997) 95–108 on the nature of friendship between rulers and subordinates; Savalli-Lestrade (1998) for philoi specifically in the Seleucid kingdom; Ma (2011) 521–43 Strootman (2014) 111–35 and Nicholson (forthcoming) for philoi in the Antigonid court; and Strootman (2020) 423–6 for the evolution of the term philoi for Hellenistic courtiers; and Savalli-Lestrade (2017) 101–20 on the various roles a courtier might occupy. ⁶⁷ For Plutarch’s anti-Macedonian perspective in this text see his description of the relationship between the Achaean League and Doson at Arat. 45, and later his portrayal of Philip, Arat. 49–52. See Wardman (1974) 30, 193–4 for Plutarch’s explanation of Aratus’ decision to invite Macedon into the Peloponnese instead of reconciling with Sparta as a result of the weakness in human nature (Cleom. 16). ⁶⁸ See Shipley (2018) 54–115 for discussion of Macedonian power in the Peloponnese from 301 to 197  and their affiliation with ‘tyrants’.

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is reconciled and Polybius’ narrative of the Macedonian kings becomes more substantial. This is, of course, the period when the Achaean League finally solicits Macedonian aid against Cleomenes of Sparta. Polybius narrates that the Aetolians initially allied with Doson at the start of his reign as they saw him as the undisputed master of Macedon and an enemy of the Achaeans (after their capture of the Acrocorinthus in 243; Plb. 2.45.1–3). Yet, Polybius states that in 227  Aratus initiated secret negotiations with Doson (2.47–50), claiming that he perceived the king as ‘a man of energy and sound sense . . . a man of honour’, despite being wary of the fickle nature of royal friendship.⁶⁹ After hearing the envoy’s arguments for concluding an alliance, Polybius claims that Doson felt convinced that Aratus took a true and practical view of the situation at hand and assured his goodwill towards the people of Megalopolis and his readiness to be of aid. Aratus allegedly received private confirmation of the king’s favourable view of himself and the League. The Megalopolitans wanted to put the direction of affairs in Antigonus’ hands immediately; however, Aratus dissuaded the League from this course of action and urged them to wait until absolutely necessary before doing so. It was more honourable and advantageous, he said, to try and save their own cities themselves without the aid of others (Plb. 2.50–51.1). After a number of misfortunes and defeats, however, this course could no longer be delayed, and the Achaeans finally called upon Doson to conclude an alliance. The first meeting between the two parties was adjourned with no agreement, however, as the Achaeans refused to hand over the Acrocorinthus. It was only after the Corinthians had decided to join Cleomenes and abandon the League that Aratus agreed to make the exchange. With the return of the Acrocorinthus, Polybius states, Aratus not only atoned for his previous offence against the royal house (the capture of the Acrocorinthus in 243), but also gave sufficient guarantee of future loyalty (Plb. 2.51.4–52.4). After the ratification of the alliance, Doson moved into the Peloponnese and began his campaign against Cleomenes as commander-in-chief of the allied forces. He ejected the garrisons from the Spartan’s forts, besieged Tegea, Orchomenus, Mantinea, Heraea, and Telphusa, and eventually defeated Cleomenes at the battle of Sellasia in 222  (Plb. 2.52.5–9, 54.1–14, 56.6, 60.2, 64.1–7, 65–9). Polybius claims that Doson treated Sparta with great generosity and humanity before dying the same year in Illyria having aroused high hopes in the Greeks not only because of his support in

⁶⁹ Plb. 2.47.5: κατανοῶν δὲ τὸν Ἀντίγονον καὶ πρᾶξιν ἔχοντα καὶ σύνεσιν καὶ πίστεως ἀντιποιούμενον, τοὺς δὲ βασιλεῖς σαφῶς εἰδὼς φύσει μὲν οὐδένα νομίζοντας οὔτε συνεργὸν οὔτε πολέμιον, ταῖς δὲ τοῦ συμφέροντος ψήφοις αἰεὶ μετροῦντας τὰς ἔχθρας καὶ τὰς φιλίας . . . He perceived that Antigonus was a man of energy and sound sense, and that he claimed to be a man of honour, but he knew that kings do not regard anyone as their natural ally or foe, but measure friendship and enmity by the sole standard of expediency . . .

    

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the field, but even more so because of his character and good principles (Plb. 2.70.7; cf. Plut. Arat. 38.7, 43.2).⁷⁰ This is Polybius’ positive characterization and assessment of Antigonus Doson. In his introductory chapters, he only records the king’s relationship with the Peloponnese in detail and mentions little else about the king’s reign other than his campaign in Illyria. This focus highlights how limited Polybius’ introduction into events in the east is. His efforts are mainly confined to the Peloponnese and Achaean League, not even encompassing the whole of mainland Greece. Nor in the main narrative is the rest of Greece given much attention except when in contact with Peloponnesian, Aetolian, Roman, or Macedonian affairs. This prominence is no doubt partly due to the easier access Polybius would have had to Achaean sources than those of other Greek states, as well as his greater familiarity with Achaean history. Yet, the lack of attention given to other Greek states is conspicuous and clearly affected by his Achaean (and at points specifically Megalopolitan) perspective.⁷¹ Polybius’ positive depiction of Doson is also dependent upon the need to maintain his exemplary picture of the League and the view that Aratus (and the Megalopolitans that helped re-establish the Macedonian alliance) acted for the good of its members. The intimate nature of the relationship that Polybius describes existing between Aratus/the League and Doson/Macedon is also carried over into Philip’s reign. Not only do Philip’s other Greek allies make little appearance in the narrative (see Chapter 3), but Aratus, as one of the king’s advisers, is always depicted as a beneficial influence on the king and the protector of the Greeks from Macedonian mistreatment. Such a narrow perspective concentrated on the Achaean League restricts the emergence of a balanced portrait of the Macedonian king within the narrative. As we saw above, it is difficult to determine with any certainty whether the ‘secret diplomatic manoeuvres’ between Aratus and Antigonus Doson actually took place. However, irrespective of their historicity Polybius stresses the importance of this episode to highlight Aratus’ active involvement in, and consistent support of, the decision to ally with Macedon. If these secret dealings are really a fabrication as Gruen argued, this is especially the case and Polybius’ depiction of Aratus as an insightful, active, and prepared leader is revealed to be somewhat overdrawn and contrived. If they are historical, however, Aratus’ prominent role still poses some difficulties. Pédech, followed more recently by Kralli, has persuasively argued that the Megalopolitans played a much more active role in the appeal to Macedon than Polybius concedes. As the old enemy of Sparta, with its ancient friendship with

⁷⁰ For Doson’s activities in the Cleomenean War, see Kralli (2017) 245–51 and Shipley (2018) 69–72. ⁷¹ Cf. Thornton (2020a) 300–7 for Polybius’ positive portrait of Antigonus Doson due to his fulfilment of Megalopolitan aspirations.

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Macedonian kings and the repeated aggressions of Cleomenes against the city, it is likely that Megalopolis would have needed little encouragement from Aratus to seek out Macedonian aid.⁷² Plutarch even records how the Megalopolitans tried to pressure Aratus into meeting Cleomenes in battle when the Spartan king was arrayed against their city (Arat. 36.2) and how they were chiefly responsible for the appeal made by the Achaean League to Doson (Cleom. 23.2). Moreover, Polybius himself let it be understood that they threatened to approach Antigonus independently if the Achaeans did not provide them with prompt aid (Plb. 2.48.3), thereby implying a breakaway from the League. Furthermore, despite the secret negotiations and the guarantees of goodwill provided by Doson, Aratus appears reluctant to call in Macedonian aid. When the Megalopolitans inform the League of the king’s willingness to help and the League in turn shows favour in implementing this proposal, he exhorts the League rather to postpone the invitation until absolutely necessary (Plb. 2.50.3–5). Finally, when the time came to approach Macedon in order to confirm an alliance in 224 , Plutarch describes how it was ἀνάγκη ‘necessity’ that forced Aratus to go to τὸ δεινόν ‘the terrible ordeal’ (Plut. Arat. 43.1–2). We must doubt, therefore, the willingness and initiative with which Aratus is depicted in approaching Macedon in Polybius’ narrative. It seems more probable, if the secret negotiations were historical, that Aratus, pressured by the Megalopolitans who were threatening to break away from the League, decided to take advantage of their exploratory embassy in 227 by requesting that they also make an approach on his behalf.⁷³ This would allow him not only to prevent the loss of a key player from the Achaean League, but also to stay involved in and keep an eye on all initiatives, to show support for the Megalopolitans who would thereby be more attached to him, and to create ties for contingency plans. Yet, Aratus was not committed to this course as is clear from his speech exhorting the League to delay its invitation to Macedon (2.50.10–11). While he wanted to support the Megalopolitans and court their favour, he also did not want to bring in another foreign power that would compromise the League’s independence and strength just as much as a victory by Cleomenes would. In light of this, and contrary to Polybius’ account, it is highly plausible that Aratus did in fact change the direction of his policy through necessity—when it became apparent that the Achaean League could not win the war without aid. When the decision to join forces with Macedon finally came about, it was vital for Aratus to agree to it and follow this new direction in order to preserve the unity and strength of the League as well as his own prominent position within it.

⁷² See Pédech (1964) 156–7, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 346, and Kralli (2017) 225 for the Megalopolitan desperation in 227 and their eagerness to ally with Macedon and break away from the Achaean League. ⁷³ See Le Bohec (1993) 366–7 and Kralli (2017) 225.

    

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He therefore took the lead in approaching Doson in 224. Whether his earlier secret dealings with Doson actually took place, however, becomes irrelevant as the first meeting with the king was still fraught with uncertainty. Plutarch states that before this encounter Aratus had neither confidence in Doson nor trust in the Macedonians, especially as he knew that his own rise to power came about as a consequence of his earlier harm to Macedonian interests (Arat. 43.1–2).⁷⁴ This assertion might contradict Polybius’ statement that he had already received notification of the king’s goodwill and favour. Such a contradiction would support Gruen’s claim that the secret negotiations were inventions. Yet, this assumption need not necessarily be the case. If Aratus had previously explored Doson’s attitude towards a future alliance and received a favourable answer, this does not mean that he would have been received kindly in person at their first meeting. His earlier capture of Corinth would not have endeared him to Macedonian sympathies and in 227 it was the Megalopolitans, who held long-lasting ties of friendship with the Macedonian kings, who had approached Doson. Moreover, the Achaean League was entering into an agreement that would position it as the subordinate partner within the relationship, dependent on Doson for crucial military aid and leadership in their war against Sparta.⁷⁵ Although Doson would have been eager to re-establish a stable presence in the Peloponnese, the greater power was in the hands of the king and it would be difficult to tell how, as a leader of the weaker party, Aratus would be treated and what conditions might be demanded for military support. Despite his reservations, however, Aratus is said to have been met with extravagant honour (τῇ τιμῇ περιττῶς), a reception that apparently caused him some surprise (Arat. 43.3; cf. the same fair treatment at 46.1). Yet, Doson’s behaviour is not all that unexpected: the mutual advantages inherent in such an alliance and the delicate nature of this new relationship after years of hostility would have made it imperative that Aratus and the League be treated with consideration and fairness. Although surprised by the positive reception, Aratus did not waste the opportunity to gain the favour of the king and soon became an influential presence at court (Plut. Arat. 43.2–5, 45–6, 47.4). The new role enabled him to deal directly with the Macedonian kings and remain relevant to the League in his capacity as primary intermediary. While Aratus certainly held an active role in establishing the relationship with Macedon, therefore, Polybius wanted to show that the Achaean leader was more in control, more aware of the need for contingency, and more pragmatic than he might have appeared in his Memoirs. Polybius achieved this by emphasizing

⁷⁴ For Aratus’ policy to remove Macedonian influence from the Peloponnese and recapture the Acrocorinthus, see Larsen (1968) 307, Kralli (2017) 161–2, and Shipley (2018) 63. ⁷⁵ Cf. Kralli (2017) 149–52, 160, 164, and 268 for the Achaean League’s need for an external hegemon to maintain unity and to provide military resources at the end of the third century .

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Aratus’ instructive role in the secret negotiations and omitting his reluctance and concerns about meeting Doson in 224 . His reasonable and agreeable depiction of the king thereby makes the alliance less of a betrayal of Achaean policy and moderates the loss of power that Aratus and the League incurred by the decision to call in Macedon.⁷⁶ This ostensible loss of control is more explicitly brought out in Plutarch’s narrative. Here the biographer states that after Sellasia the League gave the king the Acrocorinthus and allowed him to plunder and garrison Orchomenus (notably Polybius does not censure, but rather justifies, Doson’s occupation of this city which contravened the terms made with Aratus; Plb. 4.6.5–6). It was also decreed not to write or send an embassy to any other king (notably Ptolemy III) against Doson’s wishes, for supplies and coin to be provided for the king’s troops, and for sacrifices, processions, and games to be celebrated in his honour when he was Aratus’ guest (Plut. Arat. 45.1–2). All of this attracted criticism, as Plutarch relates. However, the biographer also defends Aratus against the full impact of such censure by saying that ‘since he had entrusted the reins to the king and was dragged along in the wake of the king’s power, he was no longer master of anything except his tongue, which it was dangerous for him to use with freedom’ (Plut. Arat. 45.2).⁷⁷ He then explains how Aratus was aggrieved by many of the king’s actions, particularly his treatment of the statues at Argos—he had reerected those depicting the tyrants previously supported by the Macedonians and, with the exception of the statue of Aratus, had thrown down those of the old captors of Corinth (Plut. Arat. 45.3).

Macedon and Achaea: A Partnership of Negotiation Neither the superior position of Macedon in its association with Achaea nor the loss of power experienced by the League is explicitly acknowledged by Polybius. Yet, the dynamic and consequences of this relationship are revealed implicitly throughout the course of his Histories, as well as more strongly in Plutarch’s account. The alliance allowed Macedon to re-establish a strong presence in Greece and the Peloponnese: Antigonus Doson was the first Macedonian king since Demetrius I to bring a Macedonian field army onto Greek soil on the offensive, was able to set up the Symmachy (a new Hellenic Alliance) in the winter of 224 , and subsequently gained possession of several Peloponnesian cities, including the recently lost Acrocorinthus (Plb. 2.54.1), Orchomenus (2.54.10; Plut. Cleom. 23.1, and Arat. 45.1), and Heraea (2.54.12; Livy 28.8.6).⁷⁸ The Macedonian occupation ⁷⁶ See also Plut. Cleom. 16.7 Errington (1967) 19–36, Walbank (2002) 94–5. ⁷⁷ Plut. Arat. 45.2: ἀγνοοῦντες ὅτι τὰς ἡνίας ἐκείνῳ παραδεδωκὼς καὶ τῇ ῥύμῃ τῆς βασιλικῆς ἐφελκόμενος ἐξουσίας οὐδενὸς ἦνἢ μόνης φωνῆς ἔτι κύριος, ἐπισφαλῆ τὴν παρρησίαν ἐχούσης. ⁷⁸ For the creation of the Symmachy and its nature and members, see Walbank (1940) 15–18; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 349–54; Le Bohec (1993) 378–403; Walbank (2002) 93–5; Scherberich

    

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of these cities was inevitably unpopular among the Peloponnesians, yet a Macedonian presence was equally necessary to ensure a strong front against Cleomenes and to offer protection to the Achaean League’s city members.⁷⁹ Other honours bestowed on Doson in return for his support included: the renaming of Mantinea ‘Antigoneia’ with Aratus claimed as its founder and the king as its ‘saviour and benefactor’ (Plb. 2.56.6; cf. IG II 299/SEG 11.1089);⁸⁰ the institution of ‘Antigoneia’ festivals dedicated to the king at Sicyon and Histiaea/Oreus in Euboea (SIG 493 l. 22); an altar set up to Doson at Epidaurus (ISE 1.46); honours voted to him at Geronthrae in Laconia (IG I 1122); a group statuary with Doson and Philip being crowned by Hellas (Paus. 6.16.3); and deference to him before any other Hellenistic ruler (Plut. Arat. 45.2). These honours were later condemned because they openly acknowledged and rewarded Macedonian influence and interference in the affairs of the League and were therefore uncomfortable for an institution which had previously been intent on ridding itself of such interference a short time beforehand. Yet, while the Achaeans disliked the presence of Macedon in the Peloponnese and the honours that were bestowed on the king (as is evident from the criticism against Aratus; Plut. Arat. 45.2–6), the exchange of such benefits was necessary if the League was to continue to benefit from Macedonian military support. Moreover, while Macedon was the stronger power, it was still critical for the king to maintain the goodwill of the Achaeans and the latter still retained a good deal of agency and bargaining power.⁸¹ As one of the most prominent political bodies in the Peloponnese, the connection with the League was key to Macedonian influence in Greece. Its disapproval and betrayal could prove a threat to Macedon’s stability in the south and compromise the kingdom’s ability to turn attention to and execute policies of expansion elsewhere.⁸² This is later recognized

(2009) 15–59; Kralli (2017) 211; and Shipley (2018) 68–9, 72. For the garrisoning of the Acrocorinthus, Orchomenus, and Heraea by Doson, see Walbank (1940) 15, 17; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 350, 353, and Kralli (2017) 238, 245–7. ⁷⁹ Kralli (2017) 151–2 observes that the Achaean League needed an external hegemon in its early days to offer effective military leadership and that while the Achaean League was a union that acquired illusory hegemony/supremacy over much of the Peloponnese, in reality it relied on the power of others to lead and protect it. ⁸⁰ ‘Antigoneia’ continued to be the official name of the city until  125 when Hadrian renamed it Mantinea, and coinage from the city commonly bore this new name; cf. Hammond & Walbank (1988) 364. ⁸¹ Shipley (2018) 29, 72 notes that Macedon’s negative impact on the Achaean League and Peloponnese has been exaggerated and that the retention of agency was a key feature of the story of Peloponnesian states at the end of the third century . ⁸² The imposition of dominance over the Peloponnesians through hard methods, such as ‘tyrants’ and garrisons, by Demetrius II and Antigonus Gonatas garnered a strong reaction and resistance (Hammond & Walbank (1988) 267–89 and Hammond (1989) 308–16). It was only through the milder, more negotiatory nature of Antigonus Doson’s and Philip’s relationship with the Achaean League and Symmachy that Macedon was able to influence and establish its presence on the peninsula with more stability. Cf. Shipley (2018) 54–90 for Macedonian involvement and control of the Peloponnese between 301 and 197  and the varying Greek resistance to the Antigonids.

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by both Aratus and Philip at Messene in 215 , and again in the political implications for Macedon of the League’s defection from Philip to Rome in 198  (Plb. 7.11–12; Livy 32.19–23; see Chapters 3 and 4 for further discussion). The agreement between Macedon and Achaea was mutually beneficial, therefore, if necessarily unequal; however, any sense of a loss of independence that the Achaeans may have felt could be endured for the interests of the League as a whole. Moreover, the knowledge that the alliance was of great importance to the strength of Doson and Macedon no doubt dissuaded the king from openly abusing his power and encouraged him to take up policies leaning further towards principles of equality.⁸³ The dynamics of the Achaean–Macedonian relationship are also evident in the way that joint actions were instigated and implemented, for which the capture of Mantinea is an excellent example. The treatment of Mantinea, as discussed above, was not deemed in accordance with ‘Greek spirit’ as it included the execution of the city’s leading citizens and the enslavement of its populace (Plut. Arat. 45.4). Walbank claimed in 1933 that it was Doson who was responsible for this harsh treatment, taking as evidence Polybius’ own defence of the king in his Histories.⁸⁴ However, on closer inspection of Polybius’ text, it is difficult to ascertain who the historian is really defending. Neither Doson, Aratus, nor the Achaeans are specifically identified as the recipients of criticism by Phylarchus for this deed, and we only find the use of the Macedonian king’s name when Polybius states that the Achaeans had seized the city four years before the arrival of Doson in the Peloponnese (ἔτει τετάρτῳ πρότερον τῆς Ἀντιγόνου παρουσίας; Plb. 2.57–8).⁸⁵ It is therefore possible that the Achaeans and the Macedonians were equally blamed for this incident. Polybius’ text is vague about the details, however, and this vagueness was no doubt produced by his constant desire not only to defend the League’s actions at Mantinea, but also their association with Macedon. This argument is additionally supported by Plutarch’s account (Plut. Arat. 45.4–6) which suggests that although the city had been mastered with Doson’s aid (45.4), the cruelty was primarily perpetuated by the Achaeans, therefore implying that the king had very little to do with the harsh deeds. Yet, despite Plutarch’s assertion that it was the Achaeans who were primarily responsible for the deed, as Kralli has recently argued, it would not do to exonerate the Macedonians completely: they

⁸³ For the fraught relationship between Macedonian kings and Greek individuals and states, see Gauthier (1985) 39–66, Bringmann (1993) 7–24, O’Neil (2000) 424–31, and Ma (2003) 179–83. See also Paschidis (2008) for a prosopographical study of the intermediaries between Greek cities and the royal courts. ⁸⁴ Walbank (1933) 106–7. Cf. Larsen (1968) 322. ⁸⁵ Walbank HCP II 263. It is possible that Walbank changed his mind about who was responsible for the cruelty at Mantinea after his 1933 book Aratus of Sicyon where he states that the blame lay on Antigonus. There is nothing to suggest that he still thought this in his Commentaries in 1957.

    

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had after all aided in the capture of the city and received two-thirds of the proceeds from the selling of its citizens.⁸⁶ Polybius’ narrative masks the fact that Aratus was not completely in control of the situation once Doson had arrived on the scene. Through Plutarch’s account it also becomes evident that the Achaean leader was more subject to the demands of the Macedonian king than Polybius is prepared to admit. The blurring of this fact is similarly reflected in the later relationship between Aratus and Philip (see Chapter 3). While the interaction between Aratus and Doson may initially have been tense, Plutarch claims that it grew into a congenial one as Aratus was drawn further into the king’s circle of friends (Plut. Arat. 43.3–5). Although the extent of this congeniality is hard to assess, it can be safely conjectured that the relationship was seen as mutually profitable. Notably, not only did Doson send the young Philip to make the acquaintance of the Achaeans, but he expressly instructed him to attach himself to Aratus (Plut. Arat. 46). The perceived usefulness of this connection is quite plain, particularly as Aratus becomes one of Philip’s advisers upon his accession in 221 . He was a very important figure in the Peloponnese and his goodwill and cooperation were vital for a Macedonian presence on the Greek mainland (Plut. Arat. 43.3). Conversely Aratus’ friendship with the Macedonian royal house secured his own political position, improved the Achaean League’s standing in the Peloponnese, and helped him to influence and direct the king’s actions.

Conclusion It is time to draw the numerous threads of this discussion together. This chapter has discussed how Polybius’ depiction of the Greek political environment before Philip’s arrival, which ultimately affects how the king is portrayed in his early years, was directly affected by the historian’s own political leanings towards the Achaean League and Aratus. This patriotism is clear in his introduction to the League in Book 2, which is unusually one-sided and brief for a historian who prided himself on writing a balanced and discursive narrative. The preferential status of both Aratus and the League is also revealed by Polybius’ admission that he was adhering to and following on from Aratus’ work, and by his passionate defence in oratorical fashion of both man and League against Phylarchus’ criticism of cruelty in their actions against Mantinea and Aristomachus (2.56–63). Polybius’ picture of the League as a just, law-abiding, and democratic body, consistent and cohesive in its policy and strategy, is deliberately constructed throughout his narrative and he will not suffer the more negative interpretations

⁸⁶ Kralli (2017) 246–7.

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of others to taint the legacy of his own confederation. His portrait of Aratus as a forward-thinking, adaptable, and noble leader, always in control and primarily concerned with the interests of the Greeks, sees similar treatment. Polybius’ account of the relationship between the Achaean League and Antigonus Doson is equally strikingly congenial and free from conflict, almost presented as an equal partnership. The Achaean reversal in policy regarding Macedon ultimately had to be defended and justified as the right choice as this appeal to a foreign Macedonian king, instead of reconciling with their Greek Spartan neighbours, most likely received criticism from Greeks more hostile to a Macedonian presence. Aratus, too, by his shift from an anti-Macedonian stance to one intimately connected with the Macedonian king was liable to severe criticism. It was essential for Polybius to persuade his readers that the Achaean leader was in fact working for the good of the League. The interactions between Doson and Aratus are, therefore, consequently portrayed in an entirely positive light. The preceding pages have been devoted to Polybius’ picture of the Achaean League, Aratus, and their connection with Macedon in such depth because this preliminary picture is vital for understanding Polybius’ depiction of Philip V. It explains why the king was portrayed so positively in his early years (221–215 ) and how Polybius justified the League’s attachment to him at that time—their early relationship is claimed to be intrinsically desirable and beneficial to the Achaean League and other Greek states. This Achaean perspective also validates the League’s reasons for defecting from Philip later in 198 : as we will see in the following chapters, according to Polybius, Philip’s treatment of the Greeks deteriorated from 215 , and he became more and more ruthless and treacherous. This in turn led to Roman intervention following appeals from numerous Greek states and Philip’s increasing inability to protect his allies. This change in conduct and subsequent loss of power, Polybius claims, justified their reasons for leaving this previously sought-after and beneficial relationship. In the following chapter, we will turn to two key episodes which further reveal Polybius’ workings in constructing his image of Philip—the king’s attack on Thermum in 218  and his attempt to take Messene in 215 .

2 The Darling of the Greeks Turns into a Tyrant In this chapter, two events in the king’s early career will be examined: the attack on Aetolian Thermum in 218  and the Macedonian attempt to seize Messene in 215  (Plb. 5.11.6 and 7.13.7). These two incidents are assigned particular importance in the evolution of the king’s life and character in the Histories as both are accompanied by extensive digressions and are explicitly connected with each other thematically (see 5.12.5‒8 and 7.13.2‒6). For Polybius, not only do they represent the beginning of Philip’s turn for the worse, but also examples of the Achaean leader Aratus of Sicyon’s nobility as he advocates action with a concern for the greater good of the Greeks. This connection between Thermum and Messene in Polybius’ work has not yet been fully explored by scholarship and an investigation of this feature will not only offer fresh perspectives on Polybius’ shaping of Philip at this juncture, but also of his construction of narrative and argument more generally. Polybius’ desire to absolve the Achaeans and Aratus from any criticism for their decision to ally with Macedon in 224 meant that he had to create an overly positive picture of Antigonus Doson, as we saw in Chapter 1. This positivity is carried forward to the beginning of Philip’s reign as the young prince is introduced to Aratus and the Achaean League under Doson’s instigation (Plut. Arat. 46), and then continues to foster this relationship upon his accession by reaffirming Macedon’s membership of the Symmachy and supporting the interests of its Greek members (Plb. 4.9.3‒4).¹ Between 220 and 217 , this support manifested in the military support of the Achaeans, Acarnanians, and Messenians in the so-called ‘Social/Symmachic War’ (ὁ συμμαχικὸς πόλεμος; 4.13.6‒7) against the Aetolians and Spartans. Philip’s involvement in the Social War ultimately proved profitable for the Symmachy and particularly the Achaeans as Macedon’s military strength eventually brought about victory over the Aetolians.²

¹ For Philip’s relationship with Aratus and his son, see Errington (1967) 19–36; Gruen (1972) 609–25; Paschidis (2008) 246–51; and D’Agostini (2019) 29–37, 44–6, 55–62, 97–101, 112–14. ² The full duration of the Social War is recorded in detail from Plb. 4.3 to 5.105. For scholarship, see Gruen (1972) 609–25; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 373–84; Grainger (1999b) 244–68 who terms the Social War, from the viewpoint of the Aetolians, the Second Macedonian War; Scholten (2000) 200–28 who argues that Polybius concealed important Aetolian successes in the war’s three years; Scherberich

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0003

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When we get to Polybius’ account of Philip’s attack on Thermum two years into the war in 218, he is still presented in a favourable light.³ The Social War was in its third year and Philip was proving himself a valuable ally, reversing the advantages of the Aetolians and forcing the conflict out of the Peloponnese and away from the Achaean League.⁴ In 218, the king had decided to pursue the war with Aetolia by sea, convinced that this was the best way to attack the enemy, and the only way to surround and separate them geographically from their allies (the Spartans and Eleans; Plb. 5.2‒5). Prior to this point in Philip’s reign, there had been no substantial Antigonid naval force, so the king had to create one by combining the Macedonian and Achaean fleets at Lechaeum and training his phalanx soldiers to row (5.2).⁵ This new fleet was first used in early June 218 to transport his troops to Cephallenia to besiege the Aetolian stronghold of Pale, and then to Leucas and Limnaea on the way to Thermum (5.3‒6). Following his assault of the Aetolian capital, Philip then attacked Elis, Aetolia, Sparta, and Phocis (5.3.1‒2, 5.6‒8, 5.13‒14, 5.18‒24, 5.26) and the year finished with the bloody end of the supposed ‘Apelles Conspiracy’ (219‒218 ).⁶ The war would continue for another year before its conclusion at the conference of Naupactus in 217  under terms advantageous to Philip and the Symmachy. Throughout the war the Macedonian king is consistently depicted as the great benefactor of his allies. Yet, in 218 at

(2009) 103–56 for the dynamics of the Symmachy during the war; Kralli (2017) 267–310 who highlights the weakness of the Achaean League and the crucial role of Macedonia in bringing about victory; and Shipley (2018) 74–9 for Macedonian‒Greek relations. ³ Fortunately, our understanding of the events narrated by Polybius in 218  is as complete as it can conceivably be since they take prime place in Book 5 of his Histories, the last book to survive complete. ⁴ Scholten (2000) 213–20 notes that the previous two years of the war had been relatively successful for the Aetolians, particularly in Thessaly, and that the war was not such an unmitigated disaster for the Aetolians as Polybius asserts. It was only Philip’s attack of the Aetolian defence system in southern Acarnania in 219, leading to his assault on Thermum, that enabled the Symmachy to take victory. ⁵ For a comprehensive account of Philip’s sea policy and fleet composition until his defeat in the Second Macedonian War, see Kleu (2015). For Antigonid naval policies in general, see Walbank (1982) 213–36 = Walbank (2002) 107–26, and D’Agostini (2019) 75–7 for this new naval strategy and Demetrius of Pharus’ involvement in the development of it. ⁶ This alleged plot against the king was said by Polybius to have been instigated by a group of Macedonian advisers (Apelles, Leontius, Megaleas, Ptolemaeus, and Crinon) who had become disgruntled with the young king’s close relationship with Aratus and his lenient treatment of the Achaean League, which compromised direct Macedonian control of the Peloponnese. Following successive attempts to disparage the Achaean leader and numerous endeavours to sabotage the king’s efforts in the war against Aetolia (4.76, 82, 84‒7; 5.2–7, 14–16), including the incitement of the Macedonian peltast units to mutiny (5.25), this ‘intrigue’ eventually came to light in 218  and the conspirators were either executed or committed suicide (5.26–9). From 217 onwards, the young Philip would therefore be freed from the restrictions and oppressive manipulation of advisers installed by his predecessor. For the ‘Apelles’ conspiracy, see Walbank (1940) 44–61; Walbank HCP I 538–62; Errington (1967) 19–36, who sees the role of Taurion as much more important than Polybius describes, the conspiracy as ahistorical and a construction of Philip V to legitimize a purging of advisers; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 381–3, who sees this conspiracy as ahistorical and a construction of Polybius; Herman (1997) 218–24; Ma (2011) 521–43 for the political dynamics of the Antigonid court at the beginning of Philip’s reign; and D’Agostini (2019) 41–62, 80–4, who suggests we might equally interpret it as the ‘conspiracy of Aratus’. See also Chapter 3 for further discussion.

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Thermum, this glossy veneer first begins to crack, and Philip’s image begins the downward slide from the extremely happy position inherited from Doson’s reign.

Part 1: The Attack on Thermum, 218  While Philip’s campaign in Aetolia and his attack on Thermum took place during the summer of 218  a few remarks about events that took place at the beginning of the year will prove useful for understanding the king’s situation, intentions, and strategic considerations, as well as for contextualizing Polybius’ account of Thermum. At the opening of Book 5, the beginning of 218 , Philip needs supplies in order to continue offering support to the Achaeans in the Peloponnese and attends the Achaean Assembly in Aegium to try and obtain these. He is initially prevented by Aratus and his followers after the Macedonian decision (advised by Apelles) to back Aratus’ rival, Eperatus, in the latest elections for the position of Achaean strategos. It is only after Philip moves the location of the Assembly to Sicyon (Aratus’ home city) and reassures Aratus of his change of attitude towards Apelles and his anti-Achaean policy that he is finally able to gain the needed supplies: πεντήκοντα μὲν γὰρ ἔδοξε τάλαντα τοῖς Ἀχαιοῖς εἰς τὴν πρώτην ἀναζυγὴν αὐτῷ δοῦσι παραχρῆμα τριμήνου μισθοδοτῆσαι τὴν δύναμιν καὶ σίτου προσθεῖναι μυριάδας: τὸ δὲ λοιπόν, ἕως ἂν παρὼν ἐν Πελοποννήσῳ συμπολεμῇ, τάλαντα λαμβάνειν ἑκάστου μηνὸς παρὰ τῶν Ἀχαιῶν ἑπτακαίδεκα. (5.1.11‒12) The Achaeans voted to give fifty talents to the king for his first campaign, paying his army on the spot three months wages and supplying ten thousand medimni of corn; and in the future, as long as he remained in the Peloponnese fighting as their ally, he would receive seventeen talents a month from the Achaeans.⁷

As the passage indicates, the king expected the Achaeans, as his allies, to provide him with money and food in exchange for military support in the war against Aetolia.⁸ Yet, in order to receive these supplies the king had to remain in the

⁷ Walbank HCP I 538–9 discusses the ambiguity surrounding the terms laid out here. The text could (a) indicate support for the future—the Achaeans would give Philip 50 talents as soon as he struck camp in the next campaign in 218 , supplying three months’ pay for his army, and in addition giving him 10,000 medimni of corn. Or (b) recompense Philip for his last campaign in the Peloponnese, as well as providing support in the future—the Achaeans resolved (1) to pay him 50 talents immediately for his last campaign, (2) to support his troops for the next three months, and (3) to give him, in addition, 10,000 medimni of corn. ⁸ Philip’s failure could in fact have been more a result of inexperience, see Grainger (1999b) 284. See Billows (1995) 75–80 for the mutual dependence of Hellenistic kings and cities.

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Peloponnese and this restriction, as will be revealed below, is significant in explaining the reasoning behind Philip’s actions at Thermum. After obtaining his objective at the assembly, Philip attempted to capture Pale on Cephallenia but was unsuccessful, apparently due to the sabotaging efforts of Leontius (5.4), his commander of the Peltasts.⁹ The king then received the requested money from the Achaeans and was approached by two embassies from Acarnania and Messene: the Acarnanians asked Philip to take the war in a new direction and attack Aetolia while the Aetolian strategos, Dorimachus, was on an expedition in Thessaly and heading towards Macedonia with half of the Aetolian army; the Messenians sought help against Lycurgus of Sparta who had marched out against them (5.5.1‒4). Leontius, still allegedly intent on undermining the king’s plans, urged the king to go to the aid of the Messenians against the Spartans since the Etesian winds would then prevent him from sailing against the Aetolians and he would be stuck in Messenia while Dorimachus plundered Thessaly and Epirus (5.5.5‒8).¹⁰ Aratus and the Acarnanians, on the other hand, advised him to invade Aetolia: this was the opportune moment to press forward into Aetolia (5.5.8‒10). Philip eventually came around to the latter view and sent Eperatus to help the Messenians while he sailed across the Ambracian Gulf to Limnaea on the Aetolian mainland and collected the levied Acarnanian forces waiting for him there (5.6.1‒2). The Epirotes had, Polybius claims, been no less eager to assist in the assault since they too had suffered badly from Aetolian raids but were unable to gather their forces in time (5.6.3). With this enlarged force, Philip hurried through Aetolia hoping to launch a surprise attack on Thermum, Aetolia’s capital (σπεύδων ἄφνω καὶ παραδόξως; 5.5.11‒6.6).¹¹ His campaign in southern Acarnania in the previous year damaged Aetolian defences to such an extent that defenders of the area were not aware of his arrival from Cephallenia until he was already at Stratus.¹² Polybius writes that Leontius, again trying to sabotage the king’s plans, knew that the Aetolians would be incapable of countering the attack, not only because of the speed of the Macedonian advance, but also because it was thought no one would ever attempt to invade the district due to its natural strength (διὰ τὰς ὀχυρότητας τῶν τόπων; 5.7.1–2). In view of this, Leontius recommended that the troops be allowed to rest near the Achelous River for the night, hoping to allow the

⁹ Leontius was executed later in 218 for his disloyalty; Plb. 5.27.8. See Walbank (1940/1960) 20, 32, 52–60, 240, 293; Errington (1967) 19–36; Le Bohec (1993) 141, 216, 222, 293–4, 303, 376, 470–4; Tataki (1998) 354, no. 21; and D’Agostini (2019) 109–10. ¹⁰ For Aetolian successes in Thessaly and Central Greece during the Social War, see Scholten (2000) 214–18. ¹¹ For Philip’s attack on Thermum, see Walbank (1940) 54–5; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 378–80; Grainger (1999b) 16, 208, 277, 284–6; and D’Agostini (2019) 84–93. See also Walbank HCP I 543–50 and Pritchett (1989) ch. 12 for a discussion of the topography of Philip’s march on Thermum, correcting Walbank (1940) 53–6. ¹² See Scholten (2000) 223.

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Aetolians time to react. Aratus, however, allegedly aware of Leontius’ intentions, implored Philip not to let the opportunity slip away by delaying his advance. The king once again listened to Aratus’ advice and quickly crossed the Achelous River to march on Thermum (5.7.4‒8.2). Having reached the city in the evening, men were sent out to loot the surrounding villages and plains. These were not only full of corn and other provisions, but also valuables used for the Thermika, a local festival of the Aetolians, and the election of magistrates in September (5.8.3‒5).¹³ The substantial wealth of the site and the laxness of military protection reflect the perception that Thermum was the safest place in the region and the natural stronghold of Aetolia—an impression of impregnability supported by virtue of its never having been invaded before. The impact of Philip’s attack would, therefore, have had devastating religious, political, financial, and psychological consequences not only for the local region, but also for Aetolia as a whole. The next day the richest and most precious of the booty and armour from the dedications in the porticoes were selected by the army, who exchanged some of the equipment for their own, and the remainder was collected and burnt in a bonfire (5.8.6‒9). The equipment and wealth of the Macedonian army was therefore improved, and the enemy prevented from using even the items of lesser quality. The following events Polybius criticizes as going beyond the normal conventions of war (κατὰ τοὺς τοῦ πολέμου νόμους; 5.9.1). The Macedonians, after plundering Thermum and its surrounding area, and keeping in mind the recent Aetolian attacks on the sanctuaries at Dium and Dodona (cf. Plb. 4.62, 67), burnt the colonnades, demolished the votive offerings, and razed the buildings to the ground. They destroyed 2,000 statues and spared only those depicting the gods or bearing inscriptions addressed to them (5.9.2‒3). On the walls they inscribed a verse by Samos, son of Chrysogonus,¹⁴ said to be well known at the time, ‘Do you see where the divine bolt has flown?’ (ὁρᾷς τὸ δῖον οὗ βέλος διέπτατο; Plb. 5.9.4‒6). The line of verse intentionally echoes Euripides (Suppl. 860: ὁρᾷς τὸν ἁβρόν, οὗ βέλος διέπτατο;) although τὸν ἁβρόν has been replaced by τὸ δῖον to recall the Aetolians’ earlier attack on Dium and reveals a conscious comparison of Philip’s military action with that of a bolt of Zeus’ lightning.¹⁵ The king’s power

¹³ See Grainger (1999b) 37–9, 60, 171–2, 193–4. ¹⁴ Samos was a friend of the king and well-known court poet. His three surviving epigrams, dated to 217 , claim Philip as the descendent of Heracles (G-A. 5.114, 115, 116). Cf. Edson (1934) 213–46 and (1935) 191–202; Walbank (1940/1960) 244–5, (1979) 547; Tataki (1994) no. 273, (1998) 105 no. 20. Samos’ father, Chrysogonus, was one of Philip’s friends set in place by Antigonus Doson and the commander of Thessaly. He protected the region from an Aetolian attack in 218  (Plb. 5.17.6) and was consequently honoured, named a friend, entitled euergetes, and given citizen rights by the Thessalian city of Larissa in c.217  (SEG 27.202); see Walbank (1940/1960) 79, (1979) 231–2, 771; Le Bohec (1985) 106; Tataki (1994) no. 316, (1998) 105 no. 22 (cf. his son Samos, no. 20). ¹⁵ For this line, see Hammond & Walbank (1988) 379, and D’Agostini (2019) 86–7. An adaptation of this line was also found at Ioannina on a dedicatory marble relief (ἀρὰ τῷ Διὶ οὗ βέλο[ς] διιέπτατ[αι]) and may indicate that after this campaign, alongside rebuilding the temple of Zeus at Dodona, Philip also rebuilt the temple of Zeus Areius at Passaron. Cf. Hammond (1967) 184 and 605.

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is presented as divine and divinely sanctioned, irresistible, and boundless, and Philip himself as a legitimate, pious ruler who punishes wrongdoers. Having burnt the colonnades and razed the buildings to the ground, Polybius claims, the king and his associates felt justified that their actions had been conducted rightly in retaliation for the Aetolians’ earlier act of sacrilege at Dium (5.9.4‒6). Polybius, however, immediately voices his objections to this judgement and begins a long digression criticizing the king’s actions. He draws upon past examples of clemency and piety shown by Antigonus Doson, Philip II, and Alexander in arguing that Philip V should have acted differently and emulated them (5.9.7‒10.11), and then asserts that by allowing his passion to rival the impiety of the Aetolians the king acted no better than the enemy and would earn a similar reputation for impiety, brutally, and lawlessness as a consequence (5.11.1‒2).¹⁶ Polybius expands on this claim by arguing that the king contravened the laws of war by his destruction of religious property: τὸ μὲν γὰρ παραιρεῖσθαι τῶν πολεμίων καὶ καταφθείρειν φρούρια, λιμένας, πόλεις, ἄνδρας, ναῦς, καρπούς, τἄλλα τὰ τούτοις παραπλήσια, δι᾽ ὧν τοὺς μὲν ὑπεναντίους ἀσθενεστέρους ἄν τις ποιήσαι, τὰ δὲ σφέτερα πράγματα καὶ τὰς ἐπιβολὰς δυναμικωτέρας, ταῦτα μὲν ἀναγκάζουσιν οἱ τοῦ πολέμου νόμοι καὶ τὰ τούτου δίκαια δρᾶν: τὸ δὲ μήτε τοῖς ἰδίοις πράγμασιν ἐπικουρίαν μέλλοντα μηδ᾽ ἡντινοῦν παρασκευάζειν μήτε τοῖς ἐχθροῖς ἐλάττωσιν πρός γε τὸν ἐνεστῶτα πόλεμον ἐκ περιττοῦ καὶ ναούς, ἅμα δὲ τούτοις ἀνδριάντας καὶ πᾶσαν δὴ τὴν τοιαύτην κατασκευὴν λυμαίνεσθαι, πῶς οὐκ ἂν εἴποι τις εἶναι τρόπου καὶ θυμοῦ λυττῶντος ἔργον; (5.11.3–4) For it is one thing to deprive the enemy and destroy their forts, harbours, cities, men, ships, crops, and other things of a similar kind by which one weakens the enemy and strengthens his own affairs and plans: these things the laws and rights of war compel us to do. But to damage superfluously temples, as well as their statues and indeed all such equipment, when it would neither help one’s own affairs nor weaken the enemy with regard to the war at hand - how could one not say this to be the work of a raging passion and mind?

He continues by proclaiming that the purpose of war is not to destroy the enemy, but rather to reform them and correct their behaviour (5.11.5); that Philip was acting like a tyrant rather than a king in advancing his power through fear (5.11.6); that the Aetolians would have regarded Philip with goodwill and felt ashamed at their own behaviour at Dium and Dodona had he not damaged the colonnades and statues and thereby demonstrated piety and moderation (5.11.7‒12.1); that conquering the enemy by noble conduct and just deeds is of ¹⁶ For Polybius’ views on religious crimes, see Gabelko & Teytelbaum (2019) 309–325, and particularly 317–18 for Philip’s attack on Thermum.

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far greater advantage than defeating them in battle (5.12.2‒3); and in the latter case victory belongs to the soldiers, but in the former to the leaders (τὸ δὲ τῆς πράξεως τῶν ὑποταττομένων, τῶν ἡγουμένων; 5.12.4).¹⁷ At Thermum, therefore, Philip did not act as an experienced and decent leader should. This episode has serious implications for Philip’s whole portrait in the Histories since it is the first instance when we see the young king make an error in judgement in Polybius’ eyes. Closer analysis of these statements will demonstrate how Polybius emphasized, distorted, and omitted certain details in this digression to shape his portrait of the king.

The Laws of War and the Justice of Retaliation The historian’s first criticism of Philip’s attack is that the king and his officers transgressed the ‘laws of war’ (κατὰ τοὺς τοῦ πολέμου νόμους; 5.9.1). These refer to a set of shared practices that constituted what was just and reasonable conduct within the course of ancient Greek warfare and belonged to a wider body of universal norms dictating appropriate behaviour in all areas of life, variously and vaguely described as ‘the laws of the Greeks’, ‘the laws of all men’, and ‘the common laws’.¹⁸ These nomoi focused on applying rationality to a fundamentally irrational endeavour. They attempted to manage conflict and pertained to the protection of sacred sites, objects, officials, festivals, and observances,¹⁹ as well as the immunity of heralds (who were thought to be under the protection of Zeus), ambassadors, and merchants, the respectful treatment and return or burial of the enemy dead, and the victors’ prerogative to treat the defeated as they wished.²⁰ ¹⁷ See Eckstein (1995b) especially p. 145 for Philip’s lack of self-restraint at Thermum and ch. 6 for Polybius’ ideas about generalship and the character of the soldiery; and Hau (2016) 38–9 for the use of Philip at Thermum as an example of action and result, and 43–7 as a didactic example that combines moral and practical arguments. ¹⁸ τὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων νόμιμα (Thuc. 4.97; Diod. 19.63), τὰ πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμιμα (Thuc. 1.3, 118; Plut. Pericl. 17), τὰ κοινὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων νόμιμα, κοινοὶ νόμοι, κοινὰ δίκαια τῆς Ἑλλάδος, τὰ κοινὰ ἀνθρώπων ἔθη (καὶ νόμιμα) (Plb. 1.70.6, 4.67.4), οἱ κοινοὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων νόμοι (Plb. 2.58), τὰ κατὰ κοινὸν ὡρισμένα δίκαια παρ’ ἀνθρώποις (Plb. 4.6.11), τὰ πρὸς τοὺς ἀνθρώπους δίκαια (καὶ τὰ πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς ὃσια) (Plb. 2.8.12, 12.13.8), νόμιμα πάσης (συγχέοωτας) Ἑλλάδος (Eurip. Suppl. 13). For the laws of war see e.g. Phillipson (1911) 1.57–8; Ober (1994) 12; Bederman (2001) 242–66; Krentz (2002) 25–34; Alonso (2007) 206–25; and Lanni (2008) 469–89. ¹⁹ For examples of victors being careful not to damage religious sites and the inviolability of temples, see Thuc. 4.97.2, Xen. Ages. 10.1, Plb. 5.10, and Paus. 10.28.3. To illustrate how well this law was embedded in Greek thought, see Thuc. 4.97–8. For the immunity of officials, see e.g. Homer Iliad 1.442–5, Hdt. 7.136.2, Plb. 16.33, and Plut. Alex. 11. For the prohibition against waging war during a religious festival, see Thuc. 5.49.1 and 7.73.2, Xen. Hell. 4.7.2–7, and Hdt. 6.106 and 7.206. Also see Phillipson (1911) 2.246–9; Goodman & Holladay (1986) 158–60; Bederman (2001) 246, 263–6; and Lanni (2008) 477–8. ²⁰ For Zeus’ protection of heralds and ambassadors, see Homer Iliad 1.334, Hdt. 7.133–6, and Paus.1.36.3. For the treatment of the dead, see Eur. Heracl. 1010 and Supp. 19, 311 and 526, Hdt. 9.78–9 and 4.202–5, and Thuc. 4.98; for the religious character of this law, see Eur. Supp.19, 311, 526. For the victor’s right to deal with the defeated as they wish, see Xen. Cyr. 7.5.73, Arist. Pol. 1255a6‒8, Plb.

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Yet, the fact that these laws were agraphoi nomoi and never officially set down in writing means that there is difficulty in ascertaining the details of their contents, the extent of their application among the different Greek peoples and beyond, and their chronological development. Even Polybius, who is more vocal and discursive than many of the surviving ancient historians, is obscure in this regard: Von Scala attempted to establish Polybius’ own conception of the laws in the nineteenth century but was unsuccessful. The same difficulty was experienced by Spickermann more recently in trying to ascertain Polybius’ personal religious attitudes.²¹ Moreover, that there was no international law or adjudicator to exact punishment for transgressions of these customs (retribution was often left up to the gods) has even resulted in the view by some scholars that they did not exist.²² Yet, the fact that references to the ‘laws of men’ appear regularly in the literature from the fifth century onwards in the works, for instance, of Herodotus, Thucydides, Euripides, Aristotle, Xenophon, Polybius, Diodorus, Plutarch, and Pausanias, alongside the fact that most peoples extended rights to foreigners, suggests that there was some fundamental conception of these ‘laws’ within Greek thought across the centuries and across city-state boundaries. We would be ignoring the evidence and a vital part of their value system by denying their existence completely.²³ The vagueness of these customs does, however, suggest that while widely acknowledged they were ill defined and, as indicated by the variety of names given to them, fluid in interpretation. As a consequence, they often came into matters of morality and reputation, and are used to justify or condemn certain individuals and actions. As Thornton has recently noted, Polybius’ political agenda and arguments took priority over upholding a rigid moral agenda, making his perspective on the laws of war relative and fluid.²⁴ This is seen in his account of Philip at Thermum.²⁵ Polybius’ commentary on Philip’s attack of Thermum is of particular interest for our understanding of the laws of war, not so much for what it reveals about their contents or Polybius’ views about upholding them, but rather because it demonstrates the existence of two opposing ideas about the acceptability of retaliation after breaches of them and reflects the wider problem of defining

5.11. See also Thuc. 1.85.2, 3.9.1 for the correct treatment of those seeking restitution, and those who change allegiances. Cf. Ober (1994) 13; Krentz (2002) 23–39; van Wees (2004) 115–50; Lanni (2008) 470, 476–82. ²¹ Von Scala (1890) 299–324; Spickermann (2013) 301–18. Cf. Walbank HCP I 264. Walbank (1972) 90 also argues that Polybius’ concept of the ‘laws of war’ are harsher than the code envisaged by Plato in his Republic 471a and reflect the more brutal conditions and experiences of Polybius’ own time. ²² Notably Eckstein (2009) 253–67. For (neo-) Realist theory see Waltz (1979), Donnelly (2000), and Eckstein (2006) and (2008) for its application to the ancient world. ²³ See also Burton (2009) 237–52 for a constructivist perspective asserting the existence of the ‘laws’ countering Eckstein’s (2009) 253–67 denial of them. ²⁴ Thornton (2020b) 198–202. ²⁵ Cf. Nicholson (2018c) 434–53 for an earlier discussion of Polybius’ use of the laws of war for rhetorical purposes.

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them in the ancient world. For Philip and his commanders, their attack on religious property at Thermum was justified because the Aetolians had committed similar offences at Dium and Dodona the year before, and the Macedonians believed, therefore, that they were avenging the gods by their retaliation.²⁶ This was unlikely to have been their primary motive in attacking the city, of course, but it was an explanation (or pretext) which Polybius claims satisfied the Macedonians and no doubt others too, as he felt the need to expand on this matter and correct this opinion. Yet, Polybius’ view here is the opposite: avenging one transgression of the laws of war with another is unacceptable.²⁷ Such action, he claims, causes reputational damage and does not accord with the higher principles embodied in to kalon, which he thinks all rulers and leaders should be following. The difficulty for us, and undoubtedly for Polybius in making his argument, is that both views are supported in the literary evidence and there is confusion about which course of action is the right one. Two episodes recorded by Herodotus illustrate this problem. He writes that after the killing of the Persian ambassadors sent by Darius in 491  (7.133), the Spartans thought it appropriate to dispatch two volunteers to offer their lives to Xerxes in atonement. However, Xerxes refused to accept this attempt at reconciliation, claiming that he did not wish to act, like the Spartans had done, against the laws of all men (τὰ πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμιμα) by murdering the ambassadors of a foreign power (Hdt. 7.136). While the Spartans considered an act of vengeance to be suitable in the current situation— they believed they were unable to obtain favourable omens from their sacrifices because of this transgression—Xerxes did not, as he did not want to be subject to such a reputation even through an act of reprisal, nor leave himself open to similar divine anger. Later in the Persian War, after the battle of Plataea, the adviser Lampon suggests to the victorious Spartan Pausanias that he impale the body of Mardonius in retaliation for the decapitation and impalement of the Spartan king, Leonidas. This act of revenge, Lampon claimed, would win praise from all the Spartans and the rest of Hellas. Pausanias, on the other hand, responds to this suggestion with horrified rejection as something un-Greek and insulting to the dead (Hdt. 9.78‒9). Such brutal treatment of the dead was against the laws of war. However, a clearer acceptance of retaliation as a suitable course of action after a transgression of the ‘laws’ appears in other contexts. Thucydides describes how the Boeotians thought it a reasonable punishment for the Athenians’ prior occupation and desecration of the sanctuary of Delium in 424  (they had disrupted the course of the river running through the sanctuary) to refuse to

²⁶ Grainger (1999b) 16 notes that exactly the same damage was done to Thermum as had been done at Dium and Dodona. ²⁷ Plb. 5.9.6: ἐμοὶ δὲ τἀναντία δοκεῖ τούτων, and 5.11.2: αὐτὸς δὲ παραπλήσια ποιῶν οὐκ ᾤετο τῆς ὁμοίας ἐκείνοις τεύξεσθαι δόξης παρὰ τοῖς ἀκούσασι.

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hand over the Athenian dead for proper burial until the Athenians had evacuated the temple (Thuc. 4.97‒8). Later too, Plutarch states that the Achaean execution of Mantinean leaders and the enslavement of their population after their capture by Antigonus in the Cleomenean War came under the law of reprisal (Plut. Arat. 45.4‒5: ταῦτα μὲν ἔσχε τὸν τῆς ἀμύνης νόμον). Philip II and Alexander also justified their actions against the Phocians and Persians in very similar terms to Philip V’s justification for vengeance against the Aetolians. Philip II defended his intervention in central Greece by claiming that he was forced to punish the Phocians for plundering the temple treasures at Delphi in the Third Sacred War (356–346 ; Just. 8.2.3; cf. Paus. 10.2‒3, Diod. 16.35). Incidentally, the Phocians also claimed that their actions were justified as they were fighting for the honour of Apollo at Delphi. Alexander similarly asserted that his march into Asia was to avenge the Persian acts of sacrilege against Greek temples and he was compelled by his position as hegemon of the Sacred League to intervene (Plb. 3.6).²⁸ The latter pronouncements, of course, reflect a concern that their interference and aggression in Greece and Persia be considered legitimate, and are therefore unlikely to have come from a genuine concern for the laws of war. That said, the very use of these justifications implies that this kind of rhetoric was accepted by some, and therefore also the act of retaliation. Polybius makes no mention of these justifications by Philip II and Alexander when he draws on their example at Thermum to discredit Philip V, and this illustrates how he carefully selected and tailored his information in this digression to support his portrait of a savage, passionate, and impious Philip V. It seems that the act of reprisal was a controversial one and the decision to retaliate in kind ultimately came down to the principles or stance of the victims of the original offence. Those who refrained from striking back were not adhering, as Lanni suggests, to ‘an accepted international norm against reprisals’, but nor were they necessarily only reflecting ‘a particularly pious attitude toward sacred customs’.²⁹ For some, retaliation in kind was reasonable punishment. For others, contravening these norms even to avenge a similar act was deemed excessive and unnecessary, potentially bringing about punishment from a deity and causing severe damage to one’s reputation. Polybius’ view, in this instance, aligns with the latter perspective. Yet, his statements about the laws of war and retaliation are inconsistent in other areas of his work. His defence of the Achaeans’ enslavement and plundering of the Mantineans in 227  following their massacre of an Achaean garrison and defection to Sparta during the Cleomenean War (2.58) is a clear example of this. Polybius had no consistent answer to the question of retaliation, therefore, and seems rather to approach it from his own ‘patriotic prejudices’.³⁰ ²⁸ See also Austin (1993) 200–1. ²⁹ Lanni (2008) 472–4. ³⁰ Walbank HCP I 264. See Nicholson (2018c) 8–10 for the Achaean‒Mantinean episode and the consistencies in Polybius’ statements on the ‘laws of war’.

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This means, however, that the perceived wrongness of retribution at Thermum is very much dependent on the perspective and aims of Polybius and not based on a coherent conception of what the laws actually entailed. His strong indignation towards Philip’s disregard of the laws may partly be in aid of enforcing high principles of leadership upon his readers (particularly the Romans as the new dominant power in the Greek world) but is certainly in aid of developing the king’s (and perhaps also his officers’) moral inferiority at an early stage in his career. The placement of an episode showing disrespect of the laws of war at this juncture sets the scene for Philip’s change in conduct three years later—when, after trying to capture the city of one of his Greek allies—Messene—he is claimed to change from being ‘the darling of the Greeks’ to a treacherous and ruthless tyrant—a transformation which has long-lasting consequences for the king and his allies (Plb. 7.12‒14). Polybius’ use of criticism in this episode to enhance the king’s villainy while omitting the practical advantages of this venture requires some investigation. There is evidence to suggest, even within Polybius’ own narrative framework, that Philip’s actions at Thermum did not cause him the widespread reputational damage that Polybius claims affected him afterwards. Furthermore, there is also evidence within the Histories themselves to suggest that Polybius’ assertion that such behaviour could only come about from a raging passion and mind is not entirely accurate. Ideas about what is profitable to the war effort may be very different when considering practical considerations versus moral ones, and Polybius seems to be focusing almost entirely on the latter.³¹

Kingly vs. Tyrannical Behaviour After his condemnation of Philip’s claims of justified retaliation, Polybius then takes his criticism to another level and asserts: ‘It is the way of a tyrant to inflict harm and rule over the unwilling through fear, being hated and in turn hating those beneath him, but that of a king to do good to all and rule over the willing, earning admiration through beneficence and humanity’ (5.11.6).³² By acting in such a way Philip was not, according to Polybius, following his predecessors in encouraging admiration and goodwill through acts of leniency, moderation, and piety, but deviating from their examples of good kingship and judgement by treating the Aetolians and their capital with ruthlessness, excessive passion, and

³¹ See Eckstein (1995b) 249 for Polybius’ entwining of intellectual-technical and moralizing purposes. ³² Plb. 5.11.6: τυράννου μὲν γὰρ ἔργον ἐστὶ τὸ κακῶς ποιοῦντα τῷ φόβῳ δεσπόζειν ἀκουσίων, μισούμενον καὶ μισοῦντατοὺς ὑποταττομένους: βασιλέως δὲ τὸ πάντας εὖ ποιοῦντα, διὰ τὴν εὐεργεσίαν κ αὶ φιλανθρωπίαν ἀγαπώμενον, ἑκόντων ἡγεῖσθαι καὶ προστατεῖν. For further discussion of Polybius’ views on tyranny and kingship, see pp. 190–3 of this volume.

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impiety (5.11.7‒8).³³ In arguing this point, Polybius chooses to compare Philip with three of his predecessors, Antigonus III Doson, Philip II, and Alexander the Great. He points out Doson’s clemency and beneficent treatment of the Spartans after the battle of Sellasia, Philip II’s leniency, humanity, and moderation following his suppression of the Athenians, and Alexander’s careful treatment of Theban religious structures as deliberate contrasts to the excessive nature of Philip’s actions at Thermum (Plb. 5.9.8‒5.10.8). In thinking about and deconstructing Polybius’ argument, the behaviour of Doson and Philip II accords with the second of the two types of qualities needed, in Polybius’ mind, for the successful establishment and maintenance of power and empire (cf. 3.4.9‒12): military excellence in the acquisition of power and empire, and the ability to generate and maintain goodwill through rule and thereby preserve power and empire.³⁴ By their demonstration of clemency, humanity, and moderation following victory, Doson and Philip II were, therefore, able to move beyond mere acquisition of power into a relationship of goodwill with the defeated and the success of this kind of behaviour may be implicitly understood from their advancement of Macedonian power in their reigns. Philip V, on the other hand, has shown military competence and ability but is falling behind in this second component of leadership which allows for successful empire in the longer term. Alexander also contributes to this picture to a certain extent, although his example is also not as strong or indisputable as the others. While Alexander may represent an example of pious behaviour for his careful treatment of religious sites, he was, in contrast to Doson and his father, far harsher in his treatment of the people and city of Thebes. Moreover, in all other mentions of this event in the Histories, emphasis falls on this point—the selling of Thebes’ inhabitants into slavery and the razing of its buildings to the ground and its devastating effect on the Greeks (Plb. 4.23.8‒9; 9.28.8; 38.2.13‒14; see Chapter 6 for more on Alexander in Polybius).³⁵ Alexander may have demonstrated piety, but he was not merciful and the extent to which he created goodwill may therefore be disputed. Polybius’ use of Alexander as an example of superior judgement is consequently strained.³⁶ Polybius’ argument has some justification to it and, in the long term and from hindsight, Philip’s behaviour at Thermum may have contributed to a reputation for impiety in later life. Yet the historian’s point is also framed in Greek and moral terms not necessarily subscribed to by the Macedonians or the ³³ McGing (2010) 110. ³⁴ Cf. Nicholson (2021) 145–8 for discussion of these two types of leadership qualities. ³⁵ Furthermore, Polybius’ statement that, although Alexander had crossed into Asia to avenge the Persians’ previous acts of sacrilege in Greece, the Argead king had only taken vengeance on the people is also unlikely, and despite his penchant for revealing the ‘true’ causes of events, Polybius seems to accept uncritically this pretext without question. The burning of Persepolis, for example, caused the destruction of many of the temples, shrines, and dedications within the city (Arrian Anab. 3.18; Diod. 17.72; Curt. 5.7.2–7; Plut. Alex. 38). ³⁶ See Loeb vol. 3, bk. 5, n. 16, and McGing (2010) 110.

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practical realities of Hellenistic kingship. These examples may not, from another perspective, be entirely appropriate ones for Philip V at this stage in his life. First, the circumstances determining Doson’s and Philip II’s actions were unlike those dictating Philip V’s. Doson wanted to secure the goodwill of the whole Peloponnese, so treating Sparta, which he did not want or need to annihilate, with leniency after Sellasia was preferable and would demonstrate to other Greek states that adherence to Macedon would not result in violence or heavy-handed domination.³⁷ Philip II similarly wanted to secure the whole of Greece before he invaded Asia and the suppression of resistance in Athens was key to this agenda as the city remained a formidable political force in Greece at the time.³⁸ A lenient approach towards this city would have preserved Philip’s newly won acquisitions and reputation, as well as time and resources. For Philip V and his advisers, however, the political situation was very different: they were not dealing with Sparta in the Peloponnese, but with the Aetolian League in the north of Greece, the public enemy of the king and his Greek allies during a time of open war. Moreover, the attack on Dium by the Aetolians in 219 had constituted more than just an assault on a sanctuary for material profit, but had also been a symbolic attack on Zeus Olympios, the protector of the Macedonians and the Antigonid dynasty. It was an insult to Macedonian power and could put into question the strength and suitability of the new young king to rule. Philip’s reputation among the Macedonians could, therefore, be severely compromised if he let such an attack go without retribution. In order to prove his quality, competence, and suitability to rule despite his youth, to protect, honour, and avenge his predecessors and the god, and to remind the Greeks that Macedon was not a power to be messed with, a harsher message was needed.³⁹ Exacting the same damage to the Aetolian sanctuary as had been exacted on Dium and Dodona was deemed a fitting one. Finally, the Macedonians (and even some of the Greeks, see below) would have been unlikely to see the destruction of the porticos as unjust or a bad move in the long term since this proved the power of their king and his ability to act as their protector (Polybius notes that the Macedonians felt justified by the attack and later celebrated it openly; 5.9.5, and 9.35.6). In this episode, as in many others to do with Philip, Polybius imposes his own ideas and views of kingship and the right course of action onto the situation to support his own specific interpretation of the king. There exists, therefore, a tension between the historian’s perception of how a king should behave and what was often necessary for the continued existence and advancement of the

³⁷ See Le Bohec (1993) esp. 447–54. ³⁸ For Philip II’s treatment of the Greeks, see Borza (1995) 140–4; Hornblower (2002) 264–7; and Worthington (2008) 38–52. ³⁹ Cf. Grainger (1999b) 13–16, 276–80 and Scholten (2000) 222–3 for the Aetolian attack on Dium and Dodona; and D’Agostini (2019) 84–91 for Philip’s representation as a righteous king.

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king and kingdom.⁴⁰ A range of different strategies had to be implemented by a king to negotiate success, determined by the individual locations of the realms, the composition of the peoples in these realms (i.e. Greek or non-Greek), their surrounding neighbours, and the political atmosphere at the time. Any Macedonian relationship with a Greek city needed to be based on a continuous demonstration of benefaction, goodwill, and the ability to protect and promote the interests of the allied state.⁴¹ As his allies in the Symmachy were crucially important to Philip’s position in the Peloponnese and northern Greece at the beginning of his reign, it was in his interest to protect and assist them in the Social War and to deal with the Aetolians as they expected. The Acarnanians and Epirotes made it clear that they wanted to hit the Aetolians hard (Plb. 5.6.103), but the Achaean League did as well.⁴² It was Aratus as a representative of the Achaeans, Polybius tells us, who initially suggested that the king make a surprise attack on Aetolia instead of heading south to assist Messene (Plb. 5.5.8‒9). It was also Aratus who advocated an immediate attack on Thermum once they had arrived in Aetolia instead of allowing the army to rest, which might have afforded the Aetolians time to react. Philip’s allies desired fast, successful military action against their enemy and, if followed through by the king, would not only strengthen relations between Macedon and the Greek states, but also win glory and approval for the new young monarch (Plb. 5.7.4).

Aratus’ Involvement and the Loyalty of His Allies Interestingly, although Polybius clearly states that Aratus was the adviser heavily involved in the Thermum affair, he primarily blames another for the excesses committed there—Demetrius of Pharus. Demetrius was an Illyrian ruler who had been forced into exile by Roman interference in the region and had come to reside in Philip’s court in 219  with hopes of regaining his chiefdom with Macedonian support (Plb. 3.19.8 and 4.66.4‒5). He seems to have held significant sway over Philip and is credited by Polybius with playing an important part in directing Philip’s attention away from the Peloponnese to Illyria and Italy a few years later in 217 (7.12‒14).⁴³ The appearance of the Illyrian adviser in the narrative at Thermum is, however, suspiciously sudden, as there is no prior mention of him ⁴⁰ For the tension between the old Greek world and its traditional concept of good kingship see Bringman (1993) 8, Gruen (1993) 3–4, and Billows (1995) 56–80. ⁴¹ See Austin (1986) 457–9 and Herman (1997) 212–13. ⁴² See Golan (1995) 17 for the pressure imposed by the Achaean League on Philip to go to war against Aetolia. ⁴³ Hammond & Walbank (1988) 387–8 sees Demetrius as less significant in influencing Philip’s policies than Polybius portrays him, especially the decision to conclude the Social War and look west to Illyria and Roma; contra D’Agostini (2019) ch. 3 who sees Demetrius of Pharus as a much more important figure in Philip’s court and strategic decisions than Polybius allows.

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in the account leading up to the attack. During this episode, only Aratus and Leontius have been individually named and highlighted from the otherwise silent circle of advisers who would have accompanied the king. The naming of advisers and the timing of their appearance in the narrative is often significant within Polybius’ narrative. McGing has illustrated this point in a discussion of Polybius’ gradual revelation of the advisers involved in the Apelles conspiracy in Books 4 and 5 so that the scene would not be cluttered and deflect attention from the king and the development of his character.⁴⁴ Aratus and Leontius were similarly named for a specific purpose at Thermum: Aratus to encourage the king to take a course of action that would directly aid the war effort against the Aetolians; Leontius to try to persuade Philip to remain in the Peloponnese, or to sabotage his efforts abroad. In doing so, Aratus comes across as a good adviser, Leontius as a bad one. Philip is having to judge the best advice and course of action at all stages. Similarly, Demetrius is named at this point for a specific reason—to deflect blame from the Achaean leader for the king’s more excessive behaviour, a role which is carried forward to a greater degree in the account of Messene, as we will see later. In addition to Demetrius’ sudden introduction at this point, Polybius also never explicitly states that Aratus advised the king against the destruction of religious structures or tried to prevent it. It would be wrong therefore to exonerate Aratus completely from condoning the unrestrained behaviour. Remembering the Aetolians’ previous outrages against the Achaean League (Plb. 4.7, and especially 4.27), Aratus would have had a far keener hatred of them than Demetrius and had more to gain from such an attack.⁴⁵ Furthermore, Polybius only puts the blame onto Demetrius by assumption as he gives, and possibly has, no proof that Demetrius actually advised the king in this way at Thermum—Aratus’ Memoirs only extended to 220 . In positioning the Illyrian here, he is pre-empting his account of Demetrius’ advice that will be given to Philip at Messene in 215 —to take and garrison the city, an ally and member of the Symmachy—developing a motif and consistent image of the Illyrian to make his later assertions of wickedness more persuasive. This Messenian episode is perhaps proof for Polybius of Demetrius’ negative influence and culpability at Thermum, but it still remains a weak assumption based on wishful thinking and a determination to glorify Aratus and defend him from accusations of cruelty and impiety (Plb. 5.12.5‒8).⁴⁶ Regardless of whether Aratus sanctioned the sacrilege at Thermum or not, he certainly advocated and was involved in the attack. Polybius claims, however, that the transgression of the laws of war during this event would have damaged Philip’s reputation—implying that it did so with his allies. Perhaps this occurred on a

⁴⁴ McGing (2010) 108, (2013) 191–2.

⁴⁵ Walbank (1940) 55.

⁴⁶ McGing (2010) 111.

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moral level, particularly among those who did not subscribe to acts of retaliation, and probably contributed to his later decline in popularity following a longer career of conceivably questionable behaviour. At the same time, however, Polybius records no expressions of ill-will or disapproval following the damage caused to religious property at Thermum voiced by Philip’s allies at the time. For them, as much as the Macedonians, the sacking of such a valuable and important place for their enemy would have been a success and a boost to their own reputation and standing in the war. Following his digression, Polybius records that having taken as much booty from Thermum as possible, Philip swiftly retreated along the same road, routed the only recently assembled enemy outside Thermum (Plb. 5.13), razed Metapa to the ground, and marched past Acrae, Conope, and Stratus with little resistance to Limnaea where his army and fleet were waiting (5.14.1‒7). After defeating the Aetolians at Limnaea and ensuring that the garrison in the city would take no further action, Philip and his officers celebrated: ὁ δὲ Φίλιππος καταστρατοπεδεύσας ἐν ὥρᾳ τοῖς θεοῖς ἔθυεν εὐχαριστήρια τῆς γεγενημένης αὐτῷ περὶ τὴν ἐπιβολὴν εὐροίας, ἅμα δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἡγεμόνας ἐκάλει, βουλόμενος ἑστιᾶσαι πάντας. ἐδόκει γὰρ εἰς τόπους αὑτὸν δεδωκέναι παραβόλους καὶ τοιούτους, εἰς οὓς οὐδεὶς ἐτόλμησε πρότερον στρατοπέδῳ παρεμβαλεῖν. ὁ δ᾽ οὐ μόνον ἐνέβαλε μετὰ τῆς δυνάμεως, ἀλλὰ καὶ πᾶν ὃ προέθετο συντελεσάμενος ἀσφαλῶς ἐποιήσατο τὴν ἐπάνοδον. δι᾽ ἃ περιχαρὴς ὢν οὗτος μὲν ἐγίνετο περὶ τὴν τῶν ἡγεμόνων ὑποδοχήν. (5.14.8‒10) Having pitched his camp in good time, Philip sacrificed a thank-offering to the gods for the success that had come to him in the enterprise, and at the same time summoned his commanders, wishing to entertain everyone with a feast. For it seemed he had delivered himself into places of great danger, the sort of places into which no one had ever dared to invade with an army before. And he not only invaded it with his forces, but also, having completed everything that he had set out to do, retreated in safety. Being joyous because of this, he busied himself with the entertainment of his commanders.

According to this passage, Philip’s success was generally acknowledged among his commanders and retinue within which Aratus would have been present. The prestige of entering the dangerous territory of their enemy and being the first to invade its hub with an army and come out unscathed would have reflected well not only on Philip, but also on Aratus whose advice Philip had been persuaded to follow. The rest of the Achaean League and Symmachy would equally have been buoyed up by the success of their allied king and benefactor against their abiding enemy, and especially while using similar raiding tactics normally used by the Aetolians. His capture of a large amount of valuable booty would correspondingly have worsened the state of Aetolian funds for the war effort.

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It has been argued, however, that this venture was not actually that beneficial to Philip. John Grainger has pointed out that Philip’s attack on Thermum was implemented after a spur of the moment decision, inspired by opportunity and Aratus’ preference for raiding warfare rather than a long-term strategy.⁴⁷ He claims that it did not in fact advance the king’s cause at all. He argues that Philip not only disgusted some of his friends with his claims of retaliation for the sacrilege at Dium and Dodona and damaged his reputation, but that it would also have been better for him to meet the Aetolians in pitched battle and thus settle the outcome of the war there and then. In attacking Thermum instead of confronting the Aetolians in battle in Thessaly, it is claimed that Philip was effectively giving the Aetolians the upper hand in dictating the terms of war and it was rather the latter who profited from his distraction in Aetolia. Yet, while this attack was certainly opportunistic, it was not as disastrous in terms of Philip’s benefit as Grainger suggests. Philip, and his advisers and allies, must have realized that a raid would not immediately end the war, but this would not necessarily have been the desired or expected outcome of such an attack. Prolonging the war offered the Macedonian king the chance to prove his speed and military daring after his failure at Pale shortly beforehand, to secure the goodwill of not only Aratus and the Achaean League, but also the Acarnanians who suggested the raid in the first place, and finally to deprive the Aetolians of valuable resources in their war effort.⁴⁸ The king could have attempted to meet the Aetolians in battle in Thessaly, but in doing so he would also not have received the same support from the Acarnanians, Epirotes, and Achaean League, and would not have responded to any of his allies’ requests as required by his status as hegemon of the Symmachy (Plb. 5.5). Moreover, upon hearing of Philip’s attack, the Aetolian commander, Dorimachus, who had attempted to draw the king away from the Peloponnese by overrunning Thessaly, was instead forced to hasten back to Aetolia to defend his country. The following year then saw the surrender of the Aetolians and the eventual conclusion of the war in favour of Philip and his allies (see below). This campaign thereby marks a triumphant moment for Philip in the Social War. Philip’s reputation would have been boosted by this achievement within Greece, Macedon, and his own court, regardless of whether people viewed the damage to religious property as too excessive or as righteous retribution for the Aetolians’ sacrilege. The victory was, it seems, celebrated by Philip on bronze coinage bearing the head of Zeus of Dodona with an oak wreath on the obverse and Pan and the legend ΒΑΣΙΛΕΟΣ ΦΙΛΙΠΠΟΥ on the reverse. This new issue honoured Dodona and highlighted the king’s restoration of honour for the god ⁴⁷ Grainger (1999b) 283–6. ⁴⁸ For the Acarnanian League and the constant Aetolian raids on the region, see Oost (1954) 1–15 and Larsen (1968) 264–73.

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following the Aetolian attack of the sanctuary in 219.⁴⁹ Moreover, Grainger’s supposition that Philip disgusted friends is not only unsupported by Polybius’ text, which claims that the king’s friends (τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν φίλους) thought the sack of Thermum justifiable behaviour and that it was only in the historian’s opinion that they were incorrect (5.9.6‒7: τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν φίλους), but also by the relative positivity of the reception of this action beyond the circle of his advisers. The League’s loyalty does not seem to have been weakened by this episode; in fact, rather the opposite. The Achaeans stayed attached to Philip for many years after the incident, years in which Polybius claims Philip fell into increasingly tyrannical and ruthless behaviour. It was not until 198 , when under pressure from the growing threat of Rome and the declining strength of Philip, that the League was forced to relinquish its alliance with Macedon. An indirect confirmation that Polybius may have exaggerated the significance of this event and the reaction it would have caused is also supported by the fact that Philip’s sacrilege at Thermum is not mentioned by Plutarch in his Aratus.⁵⁰ He only records Aratus’ and the king’s later involvement in the pivotal episode at Messene. This omission is not all that surprising as the episode does not reveal a great deal about the Achaean’s character and Plutarch is, after all, writing a biography of Aratus, not Philip. The event, however, does not seem to have been regarded as as important by Plutarch as it was by Polybius (Plut. Arat. 49.2–3). Yet this does not necessarily mean that there was no ill-will towards the king for his treatment of the sacred site at Thermum, but nor does it indicate that there was either. Philip’s actions at Thermum were, therefore, far from detrimental to his relationship with his Greek allies—they were at best beneficial, at worst neutral. While his attack of religious structures may have weakened his image as a follower of moral and pious behaviour, at the same time it also boosted his reputation as a successful benefactor and military commander; two qualities which, given the anarchic political climate, would have been far more beneficial and attractive to both himself and his allies. For Polybius’ argument, however, which aimed to show Philip beginning his decline in character while also preserving Aratus as a beacon of nobility and righteousness, it was better to omit how the destruction of Thermum would have advanced the objectives of the Symmachy and Achaeans in the Social War.

Benefits to Finances and Morale Polybius has set up the whole Thermum episode as if he were the prosecutor of Philip’s trial. Following his accusation (Plb. 5.9.1) and narrative (5.9.2‒6), his ⁴⁹ Mamroth (1935) no. 4; this argument is supported by Walbank (1940) 42 and D’Agostini (2019) 87. ⁵⁰ Thermum and Messene are predictably absent from Justin’s condensed account.

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proof as outlined above (5.9.7‒10.4) is deliberately selective and manipulates certain aspects of detail, bringing some elements to the fore, while ignoring others more problematic for his argument.⁵¹ Most prominently, he omits the more practical benefits that such a venture would have offered Philip and his allies. As was discussed at the beginning of this chapter, Philip sought money and supplies from the Achaeans before the start of his campaign in 219  to keep and pay for his army while away from Macedonia. This was granted provided he remained in the Peloponnese fighting as their ally. Philip’s foray into Aetolia, while offering potential benefits to his reputation, would therefore have lost him the pay and resources offered to him by the Achaean League. It became essential that the enterprise prove financially, as well as militarily, beneficial and the acquisition of booty was a vital part of the operation.⁵² By targeting Thermum with its large quantity of supplies and luxury goods, the venture was made a far more viable and profitable one. The psychological effect on the Aetolians and his allies of such a raid should also not be ignored. Philip’s success in ravaging the heart of Aetolia with little resistance, his capture of large amounts of booty, and the damage caused to religious property would have severely harmed the Aetolian position in the Social War, reduced the threat they posed to Philip in Thessaly, as well as perhaps aroused feelings of abandonment by the god. What is more, it would also break the perception of the stronghold’s invincibility as an area of great natural strength (διὰ τὰς ὀχυρότητας τῶν τόπων; Plb. 5.7.2), causing great surprise and fear in the enemy, while at the same time encouraging and reminding their allies of the power of Macedon.⁵³ Such was the effect on Aetolian morale and resources that we find them willing to make peace soon afterwards and initially agreeable to a conference in Rhium (5.29.1‒3) before trouble at the Macedonian court, and the Macedonian failure in their Phocian project (5.24.12, 26.1, 27.1), then encouraged them to postpone this for another year (5.103).⁵⁴ There is more going on in the destruction of Thermum than irrational vengeance, therefore. Psychologically and financially it proved a profitable venture. The plundering of the sanctuary’s grain supply and valuable goods not only ⁵¹ See Nicholson (2018c) 442 for this point, and Thornton (2020b) 45–51 for a more extensive discussion of Polybius’ use of history as a tribunal. ⁵² See Chaniotis (2005) 129–37 for booty as a motivation in war, and Pritchett (1991) 160–6 and Chaniotis (2005) 154–9 for the plundering of sanctuaries. ⁵³ Philip’s attack of ‘impregnable’ places is a strategy implemented by him quite frequently during this period: see also e.g. Ambracus (Plb. 4.61), Psophis (4.70), Lissus (8.13), and Pergamum (16.1). Cf. Scholten (2000) 223–4. The attack of impregnable cities is also a theme in Polybius: see Pédech (1964) 548; Davidson (1991) 17–18; McGing (2010) 103–4. ⁵⁴ Scholten (2000) 224–7 convincingly argues against the singular assertion by Polybius that it was purely unrest at the Macedonian court that encouraged the Aetolians to continue fighting, noting that the failed Phocian project would also have caused significant trouble in Thessaly. The same caution should be taken concerning Polybius’ claims about the extent of Aetolian dejection in midsummer 217 and the Aetolians’ willingness to settle on almost any terms (5.102.7–8, 103.2–3, 8).

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supported the king’s army and increased the morale of the Macedonians and Greek allies, but also demoralized and stripped the Aetolians of valuable resources, eventually encouraging them to agree to a peace (Plb. 5.8.4‒9; 5.103, 105). However, as Polybius is trying to persuade his readers that Philip’s actions were greatly influenced by his impulsive character and that he was turning into a ruthless, treacherous monarch, it is rhetorically more effective to leave the benefits out. Polybius’ moral outrage, both in regard to the laws of war and in preserving reverence towards the gods, is used to manipulate perception.⁵⁵ It is unlikely that Polybius was blind to the financial gains acquired by Philip at Thermum or to the morale-crushing effects this would have had on the Aetolians. The damage to religious property may indeed have dampened the good reputation won by Philip so far among some Greeks, but in regard to his allies it was likely to have represented a fulfilment of the Macedonian commitment to aid them in the war.⁵⁶

An Oversight and a Concession Two other passages in the Histories show additional weaknesses in Polybius’ argument that Philip acted irrationally at Thermum. First, at 5.9.3, the start of Polybius’ critique, we find a statement which contradicts the severity of his accusation of impiety towards the gods: ἀνέτρεψαν δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἀνδριάντας, ὄντας οὐκ ἐλάττους δισχιλίων: πολλοὺς δὲ καὶ διέφθειραν, πλὴν ὅσοι θεῶν ἐπιγραφὰς ἢ τύπους εἶχον: τῶν δὲ τοιούτων ἀπέσχοντο. (5.9.3) They threw down the statues, which numbered no less than two thousand; and many they destroyed, sparing only those that were inscribed with the names or figures of gods.

Although Philip destroys the porticoes and offerings, Polybius indicates that he preserves the actual images and names of the gods, a remark which cannot denote complete lack of reverence or restraint. There is still some sense of control in the destruction of Thermum. Further evidence that not everything was destroyed in this assault is also found in Book 11 when Philip returns to Thermum in 207/6  (the date is uncertain):

⁵⁵ For the importance of perception in Polybius and its use in his narrative, see Davidson (1991) 10–24. ⁵⁶ Walbank HCP I 546–7.

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ὅτι Φίλιππος . . . παραγενόμενος εἰς τὸν Θέρμον, ἔνθ᾽ ἦν ἱερὸν Ἀπόλλωνος, ὅσα πρότερον ἀπέλιπε τῶν ἀναθημάτων, τότε πάλιν ἅπαντα διελωβήσατο (11.7.2) [That] on his way to lake Trichonis Philip arrived at Thermum, where there was a temple of Apollo; and there he in turn defaced all the dedications which he had spared on his former occupation of the town.

The reason for this second visit, however, is also not entirely irrational, but arises from a clear understanding of the political situation and of the effect such action would have on the enemy. At the time, the Aetolians, alongside their Roman allies, were once again at war with Philip in the First Macedonian War (211‒205 ; Plb. 9.18‒11.7; Livy 26.24–29.12). The Romans had limited involvement in the conflict other than a desire to keep Philip occupied and away from Italy and Hannibal (Philip and Hannibal had formed an alliance in 215 ; Plb. 7.9, Livy 23.33, 38.7, cf. 34.9),⁵⁷ and the Aetolians soon found themselves in difficulties. Unable to stand against the might of Philip’s army without support, they considered suing for peace (11.5‒6). Philip’s attack on Thermum in 207/6 was another use of the same tactic he had used to force the enemy to surrender and negotiate terms in 218 (11.7.2‒3).⁵⁸ As before, this move proved effective and the Aetolians made peace with Philip in 206 (Livy 29.12). It is difficult to see Philip’s attack on religious property at Thermum, therefore, solely in terms of irrationality as the historian wishes us to believe. There are, however, instances where Philip does destroy religious property ostensibly out of anger and frustration. For example, in 201 , the Macedonian king throws down the temples and altars of the area around Pergamum, completely spoiling the sanctuary of Nicephorium and cutting down its sacred grove of trees (Plb. 16.1; Livy 31.17). To some extent this aggression must have come about from Philip’s frustration over the effectiveness of King Attalus’ defences at Pergamum and successful collection of all the supplies and booty from the surrounding land. Philip and his army were consequently prevented from seizing the capital and from acquiring desperately needed supplies in a hostile land away from home. By attacking and seizing religious property, the king may have tried to alleviate the latter situation, but his rampage may also have been an attempt to draw Attalus out of the protection of his city and force him to accept a battle. In the next year, the king is recorded to have furiously destroyed a number of Attic funerary and religious buildings (Livy (P) 31.24, 26).⁵⁹ The intensity of his actions

⁵⁷ For this treaty, see Bickerman (1944) 87–102 and (1952) 1–23; Walbank HCP II 55–6; Gruen (1984) 375–7; and Eckstein (2008) 83–6. ⁵⁸ For this second attack on Thermum and the events in 207 and 206 , the sequence of which remains uncertain, see Walbank (1940) 98–9, and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 405–7. Cf. Grainger (1999b) 334. ⁵⁹ These passages derive from Polybius. See Briscoe (1973) 118–21, 124–5, and 133–5. For the year 200 and Philip’s attach on Attica, see Walbank (1940) 129–32 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 417–18.

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in this instance may have been an attempt to goad the Athenians into open battle, but equally seem to have arisen from anger and frustration as he had failed to take Athens, Eleusis, and Piraeus in short succession (Livy 31.24). These instances may point to a decline in Philip’s self-control in the middle of his reign; however they cannot reliably be used to inform our understanding of his actions and motivations at Thermum, as this earlier event comes about from a different context and political situation. The second passage that weakens Polybius’ argument comes at the end of his digression at Thermum (5.12.5). Polybius pauses in his critical judgement of Philip here to reflect that perhaps the king was not entirely to blame for the events that transpired: ἴσως μὲν οὖν οὐκ ἄν τις αὐτῷ Φιλίππῳ τῶν τότε γενομένων πᾶσαν ἐπιφέροι τὴν αἰτίαν διὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν, τὸ πλεῖον δὲ τοῖς συνοῦσι καὶ συμπράττουσι τῶν φίλων, ὧν ἦν Ἄρατος καὶ Δημήτριος ὁ Φάριος. ὑπὲρ ὧν οὐ δυσχερὲς ἀποφήνασθαι καὶ μὴ παρόντα τότε ποτέρου τὴν τοιαύτην εἰκὸς εἶναι συμβουλίαν. χωρὶς γὰρ τῆς κατὰ τὸν ὅλον βίον προαιρέσεως, ἐν ᾗ περὶ μὲν Ἄρατον οὐδὲν ἂν εὑρεθείη προπετὲς οὐδ᾽ ἄκριτον, περὶ δὲ Δημήτριον τἀναντία, καὶ δεῖγμα τῆς προαιρέσεως ἑκατέρων ἐν οἷς συνεβουλεύσαντο Φιλίππῳ παραπλησίως ὁμολογούμενον ἔχομεν: ὑπὲρ οὗ λαβόντες τὸν οἰκεῖον καιρὸν ποιησόμεθα τὴν ἁρμόζουσαν μνήμην. (Plb. 5.12.5‒8) Perhaps, then, one should not assign all of the blame for what happened at this time to Philip himself because of his youth, but more to the friends who associated and acted with him, among whom were Aratus and Demetrius of Pharus. About these men it is not hard to discern, even when not present at the time, which of the two was likely to give such advice. For apart from the principles of their whole lives, in which nothing could be found impetuous nor ill-judged in Aratus, but in the case of Demetrius the opposite, we have an agreed demonstration of the principles of each when they counselled Philip under similar circumstances. When the proper time comes, I will make suitable mention of it.

Polybius concedes then that the young king should not necessarily be held responsible for the severity of actions taken at Thermum as he would most likely have listened to the advice of others at such a young age, and here particularly to Demetrius of Pharus.⁶⁰ As discussed above, however, the historicity of this assertion is somewhat dubious and, if these actions were inspired by just one adviser (which is unlikely), it is more plausible that it would have been Aratus. ⁶⁰ Cf. Plb. 4.24.1–3 where Polybius notes that grave matters are unlikely to be decided upon by a young king alone, but that it is the duty of historians to attribute decisions made in his council to the ruler. It is then open to the reader to suspect that these decisions and their arguments may be attributed to the ruler’s associates and confidants.

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This concession comes at the end of Polybius’ invective and almost seems to be an afterthought. Yet, this is not the case. The change in the direction away from Philip’s culpability to the influences of Aratus and Demetrius of Pharus is a deliberate design by the historian. It not only postpones Philip’s change for the worse, which, as we will see, Polybius is adamant began at Messene in 215 , but also proclaims the good character of Aratus and pre-empts a fuller discussion of this in Book 7 (cf. Plb. 7.13.4‒14.5). The polarization of the two advisers, alongside their unquestioned superiority within Philip’s court and the absence of other advisers at this crucial moment, defends and bolsters the reputation of the Achaean leader which was likely to have been tarnished in Polybius’ day by his association with the kings of Macedon and earlier questionable ethics in his treatment of the Mantineans and Aristomachus of Argos. While Aratus is shown by Polybius to be highly influential in the course of politics and history in Greece at the time, he is also separated from the negative reputation for cruelty, excessive passion, and impiety that Philip later received upon Rome’s rise and is preserved, at least in the Histories, as a man of high morals and good character.

Part 2: The Attempt on Messene, 215  For Polybius the events at Messene in 215  mark the start of Philip’s degeneration in character and conduct: ἐγὼ δὲ κατὰ τὸ παρὸν ἐπιστήσας τὴν διήγησιν βραχέα βούλομαι διαλεχθῆναι περὶ Φιλίππου, διὰ τὸ ταύτην τὴν ἀρχὴν γενέσθαι τῆς εἰς τοὔμπαλιν μεταβολῆς αὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς ἐπὶ χεῖρον ὁρμῆς καὶ μεταθέσεως. (7.11.1) Halting my narrative for the present, I wish to talk briefly about Philip, because this was the beginning of his change to the opposite, of his movement and change of disposition to the worse.

The event that began this change in Polybius’ narrative is Philip’s instigation of civil unrest in Messene in the autumn of 215, resulting in a massacre of officials and their supporters.⁶¹ The passage at 7.10 describing this event is unfortunately fragmentary and the details obscure, but we can reconstruct the general sequence of developments from Plutarch’s account: serious factional strife beset the Messenians in 215 , and Philip as hegemon of the Symmachy rushed over to

⁶¹ For this unrest and Philip’s involvement in the massacre, see Walbank (1940) 72–3, Scherberich (2009) 160–1, Kralli (2017) 300, Shipley (2018) 75 and 80; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 396–7 for the unlikelihood of Philip’s intention to provoke further conflict; and D’Agostini (2021) 59–74. For discussion of the oligarchic and federal nature of Messenia, see Shipley (2004) 561–4 and (2018) 136–8, and Luraghi (2015) 285–96.

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settle affairs. Aratus as general of Achaean forces also hurried to support the proAchaean officials but arrived a day later. Philip is said by Plutarch to have goaded each side in the internal conflict to act against each other. The officials then tried to arrest ‘the demagogues’ and were subsequently massacred by the common people, along with nearly 200 supporters. Aratus was too late to stop the carnage, but he and his son Aratus the Younger are said by Polybius to have indignantly reprimanded Philip for his behaviour (Plut. Arat. 49.2‒5; Plb. 7.12.9; cf. Livy 32.21.23). At 7.11 Polybius interrupts his narrative, as seen above, to explain how this moment marks the start of Philip’s downfall in character. In the next chapter, 7.12, Polybius reports what happens after Aratus’ arrival, narrating how the king made a sacrifice on Messene’s stronghold, Ithome, and then questioned Aratus and Demetrius about whether or not he should take possession of the citadel. Polybius claims that Demetrius suggested Philip should take it and so by holding Messene’s stronghold, along with the Acrocorinthus, be able to control the whole Peloponnese. In contrast, Aratus advised that unless Philip was able to take Messene and still retain the goodwill of the Messenians, he should relinquish the place and save his relationship with his allies. Philip is reluctantly persuaded by Aratus’ warning in the end and leaves Messene free from a Macedonian presence. At this point in the narrative, Polybius then refers back to an argument first posed in his digression on Thermum: that Aratus’ good conduct in his life left him free from suspicion of acting wickedly and offering immoral advice, while Demetrius’ character suggested the opposite. Using this earlier episode as evidence, Polybius concludes that the difference of one day changed the fate of Messene and Philip. The king is said to have committed this outrage (the instigation of conflict and a massacre), the first of his great crimes, because Aratus arrived too late and Demetrius was present on the day and encouraged ruthless behaviour. Henceforth, Philip changed from a king into a tyrant and the characters and conduct of Aratus and Demetrius can be confirmed by their advice. The final proof of Philip’s changing interests and the growing influence of Demetrius is revealed a year later in 214 when, despite the success of Aratus’ advice on this occasion, Philip comes back to try and capture the city once again (he is unsuccessful; Plb. 8.8). After the opening statement above (7.11.1), Polybius indicates that he gives special attention to this Messenian episode and Philip’s change for the worse because it will prove beneficial to readers who wish to correct their standard of conduct by the study of history (7.11.2). The admission of this purpose explicitly highlights Polybius’ use of Philip as a case study in the achievement of this aim. The king is a figure deemed important not just for an understanding of the course of history, but also for the lessons about leadership and politics that can be extracted from a study of his life and conduct. While an example of excellent behaviour in his youth, Philip is primarily a warning against corruption of

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character and treacherous behaviour and demonstrates how such qualities and actions can bring devastating consequences for both individuals and states. Yet, to execute this didactic purpose properly, the development of Philip’s reign and life in the Histories needed to be carefully constructed and interpreted to produce a coherent downward story, and certain events be singled out, arguably above their real significance, as conspicuous instances of immoral behaviour (for the biographical nature of Polybius’ account in this regard, see Chapter 6). Polybius gave, therefore, the beginning of Philip’s change for the worse a specific time and place: his instigation of conflict at Messene in 215. Yet we may question why he chose this particular episode to represent the beginning of Philip’s decline and not the earlier episode of Thermum, which could equally have functioned as this defining moment. Following the opening assertion about Philip’s negative change in character, the designation of Messene as its starting point, and the outline of the didactic value of this episode (7.11.1‒2), Polybius then briefly summarizes the first few years of Philip’s reign between 221 and 215 , in order to provide a narrative to compare the king’s earlier conduct and reputation: ὅτι μὲν οὖν αὐτῷ μετὰ τὸ παραλαβεῖν τὴν βασιλείαν τά τε κατὰ Θετταλίαν καὶ Μακεδονίαν καὶ συλλήβδην τὰ κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν ἀρχὴν οὕτως ὑπετέτακτο καὶ συνέκλινε ταῖς εὐνοίαις ὡς οὐδενὶ τῶν πρότερον βασιλέων, καίτοι νέῳ ὄντι παραλαβόντι τὴν Μακεδόνων δυναστείαν, εὐχερὲς καταμαθεῖν ἐκ τούτων. συνεχέστατα γὰρ αὐτοῦ περισπασθέντος ἐκ Μακεδονίας διὰ τὸν πρὸς Αἰτωλοὺς καὶ Λακεδαιμονίους πόλεμον, οὐχ οἷον ἐστασίασέ τι τῶν προειρημένων ἐθνῶν, ἀλλ᾽ οὐδὲ τῶν περιοικούντων ἐτόλμησε βαρβάρων οὐδεὶς ἅψασθαι τῆς Μακεδονίας. καὶ μὴν περὶ τῆς Ἀλεξάνδρου καὶ Χρυσογόνου καὶ τῶν ἄλλων φίλων εὐνοίας καὶ προθυμίας εἰς αὐτὸν οὐδ᾽ ἂν εἰπεῖν τις δύναιτ᾽ ἀξίως. τὴν δὲ Πελοποννησίων καὶ Βοιωτῶν, ἅμα δὲ τούτοις Ἠπειρωτῶν, Ἀκαρνάνων, . . . ὅσων ἑκάστοις ἀγαθῶν ἐν βραχεῖ χρόνῳ παραίτιος ἐγένετο. καθόλου γε μήν, εἰ δεῖ μικρὸν ὑπερβολικώτερον εἰπεῖν, οἰκειότατ᾽ ἂν οἶμαι περὶ Φιλίππου τοῦτο ῥηθῆναι, διότι κοινός τις οἷον ἐρώμενος ἐγένετο τῶν Ἑλλήνων διὰ τὸ τῆς αἱρέσεως εὐεργετικόν. (7.11.4‒8) It is easy to learn from the following facts that after he had succeeded to the throne Thessaly, Macedonia, and in short all those areas under his dominion were more submissive and inclined to him in their goodwill than to any of the kings before him, despite being young when he took up the rule of Macedon. For although he was very frequently drawn away from Macedonia because of the war against the Aetolians and Lacedaemonians, not only did none of the aforementioned peoples cause disturbance, but none of the barbarous tribes who lived about them dared to touch Macedonia. And, indeed, one would not be able to speak in adequate terms about the goodwill and enthusiasm that Alexander, Chrysogonus and his other friends showed towards him. Nor can one overstate

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   the benefits that he conferred in a short space of time on each of the Peloponnesians and Boeotians, as well as the Epirotes and Acarnanians . . . Indeed, as a whole, if one may speak a bit more hyperbolically, I think it most fitting to say this about Philip: that for this reason he became, as it were, a universal eromenos (darling) of the Greeks because of his beneficent policy.⁶²

This description seems overly positive considering some of the events narrated by Polybius in his earlier books. Moreover, he mentions nothing about the sack of Thermum, which, as we have seen, he heavily condemns only two books earlier. Some consideration of Messene’s significance and Polybius’ structuring of narrative will be helpful here in unravelling this inconsistency and the overarching declining interpretation of the king. It is possible that the positivity outlined in the above passage genuinely reflects the view Philip’s Greek allies had of him in the earliest years of his reign. Philip had after all invested much time and effort into building and stabilizing his reputation, influence, and alliances among them. It is also possible that there was a general acknowledgement of Philip’s disaffection and increasing heavyhandedness as his attention moved elsewhere from c.215 .⁶³ It seems, however, that Philip’s actions at Messene were often not considered a defining moment in his story. Polybius notes in Book 8 that the Messenian affair had either been considered a praiseworthy achievement resulting in the settlement of the city’s civic troubles or been omitted from earlier historical accounts and considered of minimal importance in the grander schemes of Philip’s western ambitions (8.8.3‒4). For Polybius’ understanding of Philip, however, Messene was rather a crucial and negative episode in the king’s story.⁶⁴ In discussing Polybius’ possible reasons for assigning such importance to Messene, Pédech stressed the psychological aspect, that this exaggeration may have come about because Polybius genuinely viewed Philip’s attack on the city as a sign that a significant change was happening in Philip at the time.⁶⁵ This may well be the case, although it is likely that political reasons underlaid this psychological aspect and were ultimately the primary reason for Polybius’ designation of Messene as a key event. David Golan and Doron Mendels noted that Polybius’ description of Philip’s character change and transformation into a tyrant belies a change of Macedonian policy towards the Achaean League and the Peloponnese following the king’s turn towards events in the west (the Romans in Illyria, his treaty with Hannibal in 215 ).⁶⁶ This is no doubt true since Aratus, while ⁶² For a detailed analysis of the phrase κοινός τις οἷον ἐρώμενος . . . τῶν Ἑλλήνων (the universal darling of the Greeks) and its implications in Polybius’ work, see Nicholson (2018b) 241–55. Cf. Walbank HCP II 58. ⁶³ Walbank (1940) 74. ⁶⁴ Pédech (1964) 105. ⁶⁵ Pédech (1964) 105. ⁶⁶ See Golan (1995), esp. 45–54 and Mendels (1998) 185. Golan’s argument that Polybius used two layers or registers in his writing—an upper register where he describes how events evolved through

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advising the king at Messene, is said to have noticed Philip’s enthusiasm for hostilities with Rome and his change in sentiment towards Greece and Greek interests (Plb. 7.13.1). Policy change has been overshadowed by or conflated with moral and character change in the Histories. This may be partly explained by Polybius’ dislike of revolutions and violence, his discomfort about documenting Macedonian interference in a matter which the Achaean League had to settle, and his anger at the Achaean League’s and Aratus’ inability to prevent the Messenian conflict. As Mendels noted, Polybius’ attack on Philip ‘served the purpose of blurring the helplessness of Aratus and the Achaeans’.⁶⁷ This point is pertinent here, particularly in light of Polybius’ defence of Achaean actions as outlined in Chapter 1. The way that Philip’s early years were interpreted was crucial for the image of Aratus and the Achaean League, and Polybius tried to make sure that his readers picked up his own ‘correct’ point of view of these matters to preserve their reputation. Polybius deliberately blurred the political differences between the Achaean League and Philip, therefore, laying all the blame on Philip and his character, since an open acknowledgement of such a political rift would encourage speculation about the rationality behind the Macedonian’s actions and the weakness of the Achaean League’s position. It would compromise Polybius’ defence of Aratus and his portrayal of the king. The designation of Messene as the starting point of Philip’s moral decline is, however, undermined by Polybius’ earlier condemnation of the king’s behaviour at Thermum. When we get to this summary of Philip’s good achievements and reputation in Book 7 Polybius seems to have overlooked this critique in Book 5. At Thermum, Polybius claims that Philip acted excessively, tyrannically, and irrationally. Although he claims this behaviour should be blamed on the king’s adviser, Demetrius of Pharus, Philip’s later attack on Messene was, according to him, equally inspired by this adviser (see below) and thereby creates a distinct connection between the two events. It therefore seems odd that Polybius did not use Thermum as the first tirade against Philip’s excessive behaviour to illustrate the moment when the king’s character first started to change. Messene in this respect would seem to be an escalation of it. It would be a disservice to Polybius, however, to think that he had merely forgotten his earlier commentary. He was far more in control of his narrative than this would imply, and there is certainly a rhetorical strategy at play. The summary of Philip’s achievements at 7.11.4‒8 is deliberately brief and overly positive to contrast and highlight the atrociousness of

Philip’s change of character at Messene, and a second lower layer, for the more perceptive reader, where the political differences at this moment are implied—is, however, overwrought and unconvincing. Since Polybius wanted to make his Histories as accessible and clear for his readers as possible, creating a deliberate framework which tested the astuteness of his audience was not in his interest. For characterization in ancient literature and the concern with character ‘change’, see Pelling (1990) 213–44, Pitcher (2007) esp. 115–17, and De Temmerman (2014) 18–26. ⁶⁷ Mendels (1998) 183–6, especially 185.

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Philip’s intervention at Messene in the following passage and make it a moment of prime importance for the king’s character. Reflecting on an argument made about the sacrilege at Thermum two books earlier would not have made this incident as momentous as Polybius says it was. The earlier episode of Thermum also had a different purpose: it was not meant to be a particularly prominent moment in Philip’s character development as Polybius states that blame should primarily rest on Philip’s advisers, although it does foreshadow his future bad behaviour. Rather Thermum gave Polybius a moment to caution his readers about the correct way for leaders to act in war, that is, not to damage temples, shrines, and other property of the gods, and to treat the defeated with mercy to acquire respect and goodwill. It is also an introduction into the subject of advisers and their importance and effect on the conduct of kings, an area which plays a prominent role in Polybius’ depiction of Hellenistic monarchs (see Hermeias and Epigenes for Antiochus III, and Sosibius for Ptolemy IV). The passage at 5.12.5‒8 in Polybius’ critique of Thermum is the first part of his praise of Aratus and his disparagement of Demetrius; the second part is finished at Messene at 7.13‒14. Thermum is, therefore, a prelude to the greater atrocities of Philip to come and this goes some way to explain why his statement about not blaming Philip too harshly appears at the end of this earlier event. The Thermum episode is not so much an afterthought but rather a deliberate literary strategy on Polybius’ part to delay Philip’s change and argue that Aratus was not responsible for causing it.

Practical and Strategic Considerations Polybius does not offer a well-defined cause for Philip’s transformation at Messene in 215  but implies by his harsh condemnation of Demetrius and his advice that the Illyrian was part of it. In this case, it is not unlikely that Demetrius would have favoured such a course of action as his priorities would have pushed Philip away from Greece and towards the west and Illyria. Justin even assigns Demetrius’ arrival at the Macedonian court with great significance in shaping this new direction (Just. 29.2.1‒6). Yet, we should be cautious about attributing the Illyrian primary responsibility for this new Macedonian policy in the north-west, since Philip had already shown an interest in southern Epirus and Acarnania years before in fighting the Social War.⁶⁸ Demetrius’ presence at court, however, may have encouraged the king to consider ventures to the west and north more quickly and with more vigour, particularly after the peace of Naupactus. Demetrius offered Philip a convenient naval solution to the problem of circumnavigating

⁶⁸ For the Macedonian interest in Epirus and Acarnania, see D’Agostini (2019) 68–72.

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Illyrian and Aetolian controlled land.⁶⁹ Moreover, up until 215 Philip had established himself as a young, but strong and successful king and commander, and one who had recently quashed the stifling pressure and manipulations of advisers installed by his predecessor with fatal force. He was now ready, having rid himself of the Social War, for new enterprises which would favour conquest and expansion and develop his own leadership and authority as king. Demetrius, who wanted to take back Pharus from the Romans and possessed valuable naval resources and knowledge, was in the perfect position to assist the young king in this venture. The advice of Demetrius was just one of the factors that moved Philip to take Messene, the other was fear of the Aetolians. For the years after the peace of Naupactus in 217 , Agelaus, the elected general and Aetolian negotiator of the peace (Plb. 5.107.6), was able to keep a check on the discontent and economic distress which had been growing in Aetolia since 217 .⁷⁰ This upset was caused by the forced cessation of raids on the rest of mainland Greece, upon which their economy relied so heavily, under one of the terms of the treaty. Tensions were mounting. Philip feared the prospect of a new conflict in the Peloponnese and the military and political distractions that would soon follow. Philip already had garrisons at Corinth, Heraea, and Orchomenus which he had inherited from Antigonus Doson, and since 219/18  had also brought the region of Triphylia under Macedonian control (Plb. 4.77.5‒8). By adding Messene to this group he could effectively control all communication between Elis and Laconia and ensure the continued safety and stability of Macedonian affairs in the Peloponnese.⁷¹ The region of Messenia had always been a problematic area.⁷² Its position on the western coast of the Peloponnese in between Elis in the north, Arcadia in the east, and Laconia in the south, including its long, troubled history with Sparta (Plb. 4.32‒3), made it an area of much contention. Its city of Messene, situated on the western slopes of Mount Ithome, held a position of natural strength and would be of great advantage for anyone wanting to secure their position in the western ⁶⁹ Gruen rightly suggests that Polybius has Philip act against Rome on the counsel of Demetrius from hindsight, as the king could hardly contemplate an invasion of Italy without even a single harbour in his possession and his own kingdom under assault (Scerdilaidas was currently raiding Dassaretis and Macedonia; Plb. 5.101.1). Gruen also points to a neglected passage by Livy (23.33.1–4), who he believes was unlikely to minimize the king’s grand designs and claims that Philip did not consider Rome’s fortunes to be sinking until after the battle of Trasimene. See Ferrabino (1921) 189–98; Walbank (1940) 51; and Coppola (1993) 132–6 for Demetrius’ primary responsibility in developing the new Macedonian strategy. Errington (1967) 19–36, Kleu (2015) 30–1 and 33, and D’Agostini (2019) 64–8, 72–3, 75–7, 129–31 see the responsibility for this new strategy as shared between the king’s Macedonian advisers and Demetrius. ⁷⁰ The peace of Naupactus left both sides dissatisfied, cf. Kralli (2017) 299. ⁷¹ For Antigonid garrisons in the Peloponnese, see Shipley (2018) 97–126. See Walbank (1940) 41–2 for Philip’s fear of the Aetolians and his plans to secure lines of communication down the west coast of Greece into Achaea. ⁷² See Roebuck (1941) and Shipley (2018) 25–7 for the topography and history of the region of Messenia and city Messene; cf. Luraghi (2008) for constructions of ethnicity and memory.

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Peloponnese and to unite its northern and southern regions. In 221 , despite being allied with the Messenians, the Aetolians invaded Messenia to plunder its rich cattle supplies (Plb. 4.3.9‒6.12), but also to try and counter the Achaean League’s influence in the city and use it as a base of operations to unite their allies, the Eleans and Spartans, in the northern and southern regions of Peloponnese after the Cleomenean War.⁷³ These raids and the Aetolian alliance with the city of Phigalia on Messenia’s northern border, then pressured the Messenians into approaching the Achaeans to request an alliance with the Symmachy in 220  (Plb. 4.9.5, 4.15.2). The Aetolians’ subsequent resolution to remain at peace with everyone else in the Peloponnese, including the Spartans and Messenians, if the Achaeans abandoned their alliance with the latter reflects the strategic importance of Messene’s citadel for anyone wishing to control and connect the various regions of the Peloponnese (Plb. 4.15.8‒11). The Messenians joined the Symmachy in 220 but were initially reluctant to take an active role in the war since they were located between two enemies (Sparta and Aetolia at Phigalia; Plb. 4.31) and remained neutral until Phigalia had been taken by the Symmachy in 219 (Plb. 4.79.5‒8; 5.4.5).⁷⁴ After the Social War, Messene remained weak and faction-ridden as is evidenced by the need for Philip’s and Aratus’ intervention in 215 . These internal disputes invited the attention of the Aetolians, who had been forced out of the Peloponnese by the peace of Naupactus: their capture of Messenia could enable another alliance between Aetolia and Sparta and effectively reverse the outcome of the Social War. The king’s interest in garrisoning Messene in 215  was similarly based, therefore, on its strategic location, on preventing its falling into Aetolian hands, and in general on the security that holding such a citadel would afford the Symmachy as well as the Macedonian position in the Peloponnese.⁷⁵ Securing locations of strategic value by garrison was not a new policy of the Macedonians. Doson had previously acquired and garrisoned Corinth, Heraea, and Orchomenus, and Philip contributed to this line of Macedonian strongholds in the Peloponnesian by installing another in Lepreum to secure the region of Triphylia in 219/18  and placing it under the command of the epimeletes, Ladicus of Acarnania (Plb. 4.79‒80).⁷⁶ The capture of Triphylia not only put a ⁷³ Polybius claims that the Aetolians always courted the friendship of the Eleans so that they might stay in touch with the Peloponnese for foraying and raiding purposes (Plb. 4.9.10). The Spartans, despite being part of the Symmachy since Doson’s intervention after Sellasia, made a private alliance with the Aetolians in 220  and fought with them against the Achaean League in the Social War (Plb. 4.16, 34–6). ⁷⁴ Cf. Kralli (2017) 297 for the importance of Phigalia, and Shipley (2018) for Messenia’s role in the war. See also Bederman (2001) 214–22 for the controversial concept of neutrality in ancient Greece. ⁷⁵ Cf. Shipley (2018) 86–90, 248 for the difficulty of controlling and stabilizing the peninsula and the instrumental importance the Peloponnese held for the Macedonian kings’ grander strategy of ensuring events on Macedonia’s southern flank not distract them from their overall aim of competing with the Seleucids and Ptolemies in Asia Minor and the Aegean. ⁷⁶ For the capture of Triphylia and the importance of the region in the Social War, see Walbank (1940) 45–7, 63; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 377; Kralli (2017) 296–7; and Shipley (2018) 77.

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wedge between Aetolia and its Spartan allies, but also deprived the Aetolians of Phigalia, which had been allied with Aetolia since 244  and had been used as a base throughout the Social War. Other strategically important cities were captured and similarly fortified by Philip after the Social War and outside the peninsula, including Bylazora in Paeonia and Phthiotic Thebes. Bylazora commanded the pass into Dardani Dardania and was taken and garrisoned to prevent further attacks by the Dardanians in the north (their last attempt was in 219  when Philip had been away from Macedonia in the Peloponnese). The plan to take Phthiotic Thebes had a similar aim to the Triphylian campaign in 219 —to separate the province of Phthiotic Achaea from the Aetolians who held it. However, although the town surrendered after fifteen days, Philip was unable to capture the whole region due to the appearance of Scerdilaidas in Macedonia (217 ). Despite this mixed success, the town still gave a boost to Philip’s finances from the selling of its population into slavery and was established as a Macedonian colony and renamed Philippopolis (Plb. 5.100).⁷⁷ In considering Polybius’ dramatic account of Philip’s attempt on Messene, however, it should be noted that a key difference between the garrisoning of Lepreum and the attempt to install a garrison at Messene was that Messene was at the time a treaty-ally of the Symmachy and therefore Macedon, while the region of Triphylia and the city of Lepreum had recently been captured from the enemy. Moreover, Philip was attempting to insert more direct Macedonian control over a Peloponnesian city that had significant strategic value. While such a move might be considered a practical solution to the threat Messene’s civil strife posed to the Symmachy by its hegemon, this was also deemed one step too far for Aratus and the Achaean League since it would have significantly advanced Macedonian control over Peloponnesian affairs and swayed the power dynamics of their relationship in Macedon’s favour even more. It would temper Achaean hegemony and compromise Aratus’ dream of a united Peloponnese led by the Achaean League.⁷⁸

Keeping the Faith of the Achaean League It was in Philip’s best interest to increase Macedonian influence and control over the Peloponnese so that he could turn to affairs in the north and the Aegean and not be concerned about his own position in Greece. However, it was equally vital that the king not alienate the Achaeans by brandishing too much authority over them. The delicacy of this relationship meant that Philip’s attempts to establish a ⁷⁷ For Philip’s acquisition of Bylazora, Phthiotic Thebes, and the foundation of Philippopolis, see D’Agostini (2019) 120–6. ⁷⁸ D’Agostini (2021) 66–72.

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hold on the Peloponnese were at times interrupted by the requirement to aid and accede certain conditions. Throughout 219 and 218, it had often been Philip’s policy to hand over captured cities to his Greek allies. He had handed Ambracus over to the Epirotes (Plb. 4.6), given Psophis, a city of great natural strength and strategic value, to the Achaeans (4.72.5‒6), restored Lasium and Stratus to the Achaeans and Telphusans (4.73.2), and Dyme to the Dymei (4.8). Such a policy was partly implemented to mitigate the expense that garrisoning all these cities with Macedonian soldiers would have engendered, but equally to encourage loyalty and goodwill in his Greek allies.⁷⁹ The attacks on Thermum (218 ) and Laconia (four days after Thermum; Plb. 5.17‒19) were similarly efforts pursued in part for his allies, particularly the Achaean League. Although both rendered large quantities of booty and prestige to the young king, neither assault increased Macedonian control directly, and both were led and executed under the influence of Aratus, whose interests very much lay with the Achaean League and his own power in it. The Messenian stronghold of Ithome, however, was of greater value and, like Corinth, Heraea, Orchomenus, and Lepreum, considered a location more worthy of the expense since it would offer the Macedonians far greater control over the Peloponnese, as Demetrius’ words implied. Philip was forced, however, to moderate his ambitions to ensure his allies’ continued goodwill and Aratus’ warning against taking Messene and its citadel is, at least in Polybius, quite clear: ὁ δὲ διαπορήσας “εἰ μὲν χωρίς” ἔφη “τοῦ παρασπονδῆσαι Μεσσηνίους δύνῃ κρατεῖν τοῦ τόπου τούτου, συμβουλεύω κρατεῖν: εἰ δὲ τοῦτον καταλαβὼν φρουρᾷ, πάσας ἀπολλύναι μέλλεις τὰς ἀκροπόλεις καὶ τὴν φρουράν, ᾗ παρέλαβες παρ᾽ Ἀντιγόνου φρουρουμένους τοὺς συμμάχους”, λέγων τὴν πίστιν, “σκόπει μὴ καὶ νῦν κρεῖττον ᾖ τοὺς ἄνδρας ἐξαγαγόντα τὴν πίστιν αὐτοῦ καταλιπεῖν, καὶ ταύτῃ φρουρεῖν τοὺς Μεσσηνίους, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τοὺς λοιποὺς συμμάχους.” (Plb. 7.12.5‒7) Hesitating, he said, ‘If you are able to take this place without breaking the treaty with the Messenians, I advise you to take it. But, if in taking and garrisoning it, you would lose all the citadels and the garrisons which guard the allies you inherited from Antigonus,’ meaning good faith, ‘consider if it is now not better to withdraw your men and to leave his good faith in place, and through this garrison the Messenians, as well as your other allies.’

Aratus suggests that if Philip were to install a garrison in Messene, he would lose the trust of the Messenians and his other allies, meaning the Achaean League, and his influence and reputation in the Peloponnese would be greatly damaged. ⁷⁹ See Kralli (2017) 295–8 for Philip’s gifting of Arcadian regions to his allies. See also Shipley (2018) 245–54 for the limitations on Macedonian control of the peninsula and their preference for a policy of ‘delegation from a distance’.

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For Aratus and the Achaean League, who only allied with Macedon under duress, it was imperative to restrain the growth of Macedonian power in the Peloponnese as much as possible to preserve their independence (the same policy would also be upheld later by Philopoemen, Lycortas, and Polybius’ in the face of Roman might). Yet, this pursuance of autonomy and the development of Achaean hegemony in the Peloponnese was in direct conflict with Macedonian aims. For Philip, there was a constant drive, even after the Social War, to secure the peninsula to maintain and expand Macedonian dominance over the region. Messene, strategically placed as it was, was the next important target. Philip’s readiness to take the city in 215  may be indicated by the company of armed men that ascended to the citadel with him (μετὰ τῆς θεραπείας at 4.12.1).⁸⁰ Despite the king’s eagerness, however, Aratus hindered the progress of such plans.⁸¹ The severity of the Sicyonian’s reaction in Polybius’ narrative draws attention to the strong conflicts of interest which would have been inherent in the relationship between Macedon and the Achaean League from the beginning: Macedon wanted to exert more control over the Peloponnese, while Aratus and the Achaean League wanted to prevent and hinder Macedonian power in the region, while enhancing their own power in the peninsula. In the last quarter of the third century, however, their mutual reliance on each other (the Achaean need for military support and Philip’s quest for security and increased influence in Greece) made it necessary not to push individual interests too far.⁸² This stage in Philip’s reign, six or seven years after his accession (215/14 ), reveals the transition of influence of the two advisers, Aratus and Demetrius of Pharus. At least, that is the impression we get from Polybius’ narrative. It marks the period when Philip’s attention is being diverted from Greece and Aratus declines in influence over the king. It is an important moment for the Achaean League, but, as detailed above, it is not the first instance where we see Philip exerting more explicit control over the peninsula. He already had possession of Corinth, Heraea, Orchomenus, and Lepreum, so his consideration of whether or not to garrison Messene does not seem that surprising and cannot therefore be that much of a shift in policy towards the Peloponnese. Nor, as we see, is it a moment when Philip’s character changes dramatically, when tyrannical behaviour springs out of nothing; Polybius has already shown him unopposed to ruthless behaviour for his own ends at Thermum. Why would he be opposed to claiming a city, even an allied one, when it was a potential threat to the Symmachy and could

⁸⁰ Walbank HCP II 60. It is suggested that the military nature of this company is inferred by Polybius’ use of τοὺς ἀνδρας ἐξαγαγόντα (7.12.7) and ἂγωμεν (7.12.10) later in the passage. ⁸¹ See Walbank (1940) 73–4 and Golan (1995) 47–8 for the unexpected vehemence of Achaean opposition to Messene’s capture. ⁸² See Pédech (1964) 104 for this conflict of interest, although his assertion that Aratus feared Philip was an agrarian reformer is not convincing. See Mendels (1998) 179–99 for a persuasive case against the theory that Philip had democratic tendencies.

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reopen the war? Why would he be opposed to breaking one of the clauses of the Symmachic alliance when it could both prevent the Aetolians from gaining a stronghold and bolster the strength of Macedonian power? Moreover, the inherited garrison policy was in effect both before (Triphylia 219/18 ) and after (Messene 215 ) the peace of Naupactus (217 ) and was part of Macedon’s overarching policy in the Peloponnese. There is continuity and reason behind Philip’s actions. Polybius points out that others writing about Philip’s life either left out the episode at Messene or recorded it as a success: προήχθην δὲ καὶ νῦν καὶ διὰ τῆς προτέρας βύβλου σαφέστερον ἐξηγήσασθαι περὶ τούτων οὐ μόνον διὰ τὰς πρότερον ἡμῖν εἰρημένας αἰτίας, ἀλλὰ καὶ διὰ τὸ τῶν συγγραφέων τοὺς μὲν ὅλως παραλελοιπέναι τὰ κατὰ τοὺς Μεσσηνίους, τοὺς δὲ καθόλου διὰ τὴν πρὸς τοὺς μονάρχους εὔνοιαν ἢ τἀναντία φόβον οὐχ οἷον ἐν ἁμαρτίᾳ γεγονέναι τὴν εἰς τοὺς Μεσσηνίους ἀσέβειαν Φιλίππου καὶ παρανομίαν, ἀλλὰ τοὐναντίον ἐν ἐπαίνῳ καὶ κατορθώματι τὰ πεπραγμένα διασαφεῖν ἡμῖν. (Plb. 8.8.3‒4) And I was led both now and in the course of my previous book to expand more clearly on these events, not only because of the reasons previously stated by me, but also because some historians wholly neglected the events concerning the Messenians, and others, due to their goodwill or otherwise fear of the monarchs, generally made Philip’s impiety and lawlessness against the Messenians no great crime, but on the contrary clearly recorded what happened in terms of praise and success.

Yet Polybius does not give us the names of these historians and instead begins a general polemic about writers who fail to describe all sides of a character and who write works more closely related to encomia than histories (Plb. 8.8.5‒9).⁸³ Despite Polybius’ omission of these historians’ names, however, we still get the impression that whether the assault on Messene was viewed as important or not depended on one’s political stance. Polybius’ perspective was in line with the interests of the Achaean League and Aratus; the views which identified the incident as inconsequential are unlikely to have been of Achaean origin or particularly interested in the position and influence of Aratus and Demetrius in the king’s court and favour. For those more interested in the successes of Philip and Macedon, the resolution of civil strife in Messene (even if it resulted in a massacre) would have been an achievement. For those who viewed the unrest, massacre, and attempt to take Messene as unimportant, Messene would not have been considered significant in the king’s long-term aims. The mention of this ⁸³ He goes on to attack Theopompus for his contradictory account of Philip II (Plb. 8.9–11). For Polybius and Theopompus see Meister (1975) 56–66, Bearzot (2005) 55–71, and Chapter 6 of this volume.

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latter group even indicates that the assault on Messene was not seen as such a dreadful event in the eyes of some other Greeks either. It implies, therefore, that the affair at Messene was just another attempt in Macedonian policy to secure the Peloponnese, and not a particularly important moment despite the importance of the city’s location. The episode of Messene should not so much be seen in the story of Philip, therefore, but rather in the experience of the Achaean League.⁸⁴ Unfortunately, we cannot know the number of writers who mentioned or ignored this event in their accounts of Philip’s life, and this makes it very difficult to make any conclusive statements about the attitudes proliferating the wider Greek and Mediterranean context in relation to it. It is unlikely, however, that Philip’s actions at Messene were considered a defining moment for communities beyond the Peloponnese. For Polybius, then, so invested in Achaean affairs, the incident at Messene was a crucial moment. This was when Philip most obviously started to break away from and compromise the interests of Aratus and the Achaean League, and when Demetrius and his interest in the west made Philip all the more ready to dominate the peninsula and focus his resources elsewhere. It was the moment when the fall of one adviser and the rise of the other was, in Polybius’ mind, most apparent and consequently when the change of attitude and treatment of the Achaean League was most explicit. Nevertheless, it was not the overall Macedonian policy in the Peloponnese that had changed, but how far the Macedonians were able or willing to pursue it.

Aratus of Sicyon and Demetrius of Pharus: The Hero and the Villain The influence and hierarchical movement of advisers or ‘friends’ within the courts of the Hellenistic kings was a topic of particular interest to Polybius and he spent quite some time expounding the differences that advisers could have on the conduct of kings.⁸⁵ In Book 7, after his rendition of the incident at Messene, he notes the importance of choosing advisers carefully: τηλικαύτην τοῖς νέοις βασιλεῦσι ῥοπὴν ἔχει καὶ πρὸς ἀτυχίαν καὶ πρὸς ἐπανόρθωσιν τῆς ἀρχῆς ἡ τῶν παρεπομένων φίλων ἐκλογὴ καὶ κρίσις, ὑπὲρ ἧς οἱ πλείους οὐκ οἶδ᾽ ὅπως ῥᾳθυμοῦντες οὐδὲ τὴν ἐλαχίστην ποιοῦνται πρόνοιαν . . . (7.14.6) Of such great importance for young kings, both leading to either the misfortune or the establishment of their rule, is the choice and selection of the friends who accompany them, about which most, not seeing how they are being neglectful, devote not the least forethought . . .

⁸⁴ Cf. D’Agostini (2021) 69.

⁸⁵ See e.g. Plb. 4.24, 5.26.13.

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The passage is unfortunately fragmentary so we cannot know what Polybius’ advice or views were in relation to this topic. However, it appears at the end of the second part of Polybius’ discussion of Aratus and Demetrius, which acts as a case study and starting point for his exposition on advisers more generally. Polybius’ purpose here is partly educational, relaying the importance of choosing advisers wisely, but also partly defensive. This topic once again allowed him to defend Aratus’ character and relationship with Philip, particularly his involvement in Thermum and his inability to prevent the king from instigating a massacre at Messene in 215 and from attacking the city later in 213 (8.8.1‒2, 12.1). The latter event seems to have driven the Messenians from the Symmachy and to the Aetolians.⁸⁶ It would be misguided to think that there were no other advisers or friends of the king around him to influence his decision-making during this period, however, despite the lack of any mention of them in Polybius’ work (we might recall Aratus’ isolation in Achaean affairs in Book 2, as outlined in Chapter 1). The concentrated opposition of Aratus and Demetrius is no doubt artificially constructed, even if they were the main courtiers influential at this time, and we might consider Polybius’ purpose for constructing their presentation as he does. By identifying his reasons for doing so, we will better understand what the historian is trying to say in these two episodes (Thermum and Messene) and its ramifications for the characterization of Philip in the Histories. Let us now turn to the passages where Polybius makes his comments about the two advisers. In his critique of Thermum at 5.12.6‒8, Polybius openly claims that Aratus and Demetrius were the two most likely advisers to give Philip guidance at this event. The historian then opens his argument by claiming that it is not hard to determine, even when not present oneself, which of the two advisers was more likely to advise the excessive destruction of religious property. For, Polybius asserts, the principles of Aratus’ whole life and judgement lacked in nothing and he would, therefore, not commit such an act of wickedness. The life and principles of Demetrius were, however, the opposite (γὰρ τῆς κατὰ τὸν ὅλον βίον προαιρέσεως, ἐν ᾗ περὶ μὲν Ἄρατον οὐδὲν ἂν εὑρεθείη προπετὲς οὐδ᾽ ἄκριτον, περὶ δὲ Δημήτριον τἀναντία). Furthermore, the historian claims there is an undisputed example illustrating each of their principles to this effect when they counselled Philip under similar circumstances (5.12.7). These similar circumstances, he states, will be discussed and their characters fully revealed later at the appropriate time. Polybius then continues with his narrative of 218 .

⁸⁶ For this second assault on Messene see Plb. 8.8, 12, and for the Messenians’ alliance with Aetolia see 9.30.6. Cf. Walbank (1940) 77–8; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 397–8. The latter passage is dated to 210 , but the alliance was probably concluded years before this (Holleaux (1921) 203 n. 3, Walbank (1940) 78, and Kralli (2017) 300).

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This appropriate time comes about three years later when both Aratus and Demetrius again give counsel to Philip at Messene (7.13.3‒8). After his narrative of the Messenian massacre and the suggestions given by both advisers at Ithome, Polybius continues with his previous train of thought concerning their characters. Reminding the reader of the atrocities at Thermum to bring us back to his earlier argument in Book 5, Polybius adds to his previous claims by asserting that two points at Messene show his judgement of Aratus and Demetrius to be correct. The first is that from a difference of one day, with Demetrius being present and Aratus being delayed, Philip started to commit the greatest of crimes (ἤρξατο Φίλιππος ἅπτεσθαι τῶν μεγίστων ἀσεβημάτων; 7.13.6), he interfered in the volatile political situation of the city and encouraged a massacre. When he was subject to the guidance of Demetrius the king is encouraged to treat his allies badly and support civil disorder, thus revealing questionable principles in the Illyrian. The historian then gives as final proof of each adviser’s character, the advice given by each at Ithome—Demetrius to take the city, Aratus to leave it ungarrisoned and free. The Illyrian therefore advises the king to treacherous and tyrannical action against an ally, while the Achaean recommends leaving the Messenians free and thereby keeping the goodwill of the city and the Achaean League. We can therefore assert, Polybius argues, that the life and principles of Aratus were good and those of Demetrius wicked, and their advice to Philip correspondingly so. Polybius then proclaims that the revelation of such sentiments in each adviser at Messene leaves no doubt as to who advised the Aetolian affair at Thermum (περὶ τῶν κατ᾽ Αἰτωλοὺς). Yet, as mentioned above, Demetrius’ appearance and involvement at Thermum is unexpected and suspect: Polybius makes no mention of the Illyrian in the decision-making process or events leading up to the attack on Thermum (5.5‒9); Aratus’ opposition at this point was Leontius, not Demetrius; Demetrius only makes an appearance in the digression after the narrative at 5.12; and Aratus was much more involved in Thermum and far more interested in the outcome of the attack. Polybius’ inference that Demetrius had to be the one to influence the king’s sacrilege because of the wickedness of his advice three years later in Messene, is therefore weak and unfounded. We cannot altogether dismiss the claim, of course, but it certainly fits into Polybius’ polarization of the two advisers very neatly. The nature of this dichotomy is also revealed in the following passage where Polybius lays out examples when Aratus and Demetrius influenced the king: ὧν ὁμολογουμένων εὐμαρὲς ἤδη συλλογίσασθαι τὴν διαφορὰν τῆς ἑκατέρου προαιρέσεως. καθάπερ γὰρ νῦν Φίλιππος πεισθεὶς Ἀράτῳ διεφύλαξε τὴν πρὸς Μεσσηνίους πίστιν ἐν τοῖς κατὰ τὴν ἄκραν, καὶ μεγάλῳ, τὸ δὴ λεγόμενον, ἕλκει τῷ προγεγονότι περὶ τὰς σφαγὰς μικρὸν ἴαμα προσέθηκεν, οὕτως ἐν τοῖς κατ᾽ Αἰτωλοὺς Δημητρίῳ κατακολουθήσας ἠσέβει μὲν εἰς τοὺς θεούς, τὰ καθιερωμένα τῶν ἀναθημάτων διαφθείρων, ἡμάρτανε δὲ περὶ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους, ὑπερβαίνων τοὺς τοῦ πολέμου νόμους, ἠστόχει δὲ τῆς σφετέρας προαιρέσεως, ἀπαραίτητον καὶ

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   πικρὸν ἑαυτὸν ἀποδεικνύων ἐχθρὸν τοῖς διαφερομένοις. ὁ δ᾽ αὐτὸς λόγος καὶ περὶ τῶν κατὰ Κρήτην: καὶ γὰρ ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνων Ἀράτῳ μὲν καθηγεμόνι χρησάμενος περὶ τῶν ὅλων, οὐχ οἷον ἀδικήσας, ἀλλ᾽ οὐδὲ λυπήσας οὐδένα τῶν κατὰ τὴν νῆσον, ἅπαντας μὲν εἶχε τοὺς Κρηταιεῖς ὑποχειρίους, ἅπαντας δὲ τοὺς Ἕλληνας εἰς τὴν πρὸς αὑτὸν εὔνοιαν ἐπήγετο διὰ τὴν σεμνότητα τῆς προαιρέσεως. οὕτω πάλιν ἐπακολουθήσας Δημητρίῳ καὶ παραίτιος γενόμενος Μεσσηνίοις τῶν ἄρτι ῥηθέντων ἀτυχημάτων, ἅμα τὴν παρὰ τοῖς συμμάχοις εὔνοιαν καὶ τὴν παρὰ τοῖς ἄλλοις Ἕλλησιν ἀπέβαλε πίστιν. (7.14.1‒5) If we agree on these things, it is then easy to discern the difference between each man’s principles. For just as now Philip, being persuaded by Aratus, kept faith with the Messenians in the matter concerning the citadel, and thus, as the saying goes, put a little balm on the great wound inflicted by the earlier killings; so in the treatment of the Aetolians, while following the advice of Demetrius he acted impiously in regard to the gods, destroying the things set up and dedicated to them, and he went wrong in his treatment of men, transgressing the laws of war, and he fell short of his own principles, showing himself an inexorable and bitter enemy of his adversaries. And it is the same story regarding the treatment of Crete: for when he used Aratus as a guide for the whole affair, not only did he do no wrong, but also by causing no one on the island grief, he had all the Cretans under his control and encouraged the goodwill of all the Greeks because of his dignity of principle. So, following Demetrius again, he became the cause of the recently mentioned misfortunes of the Messenians, and at the same time he threw away the goodwill of his allies and the trust of the other Greeks.

What is particularly telling in this passage in relation to Polybius’ construction of his narrative and argument is the balance and symmetry with which the comparison is composed. As Polybius wanted to include two instances to show how Aratus advised Philip to do good throughout his association with the king, for rhetorical and literary neatness and to make his comparison balanced, he also needed to find two incidents which he could ascribe to Demetrius’ encouragement. Other than the massacre at Messene which explicitly mentions Demetrius as an adviser, he needed to assign another incident to the evil machinations of the Illyrian. This Polybius was able to wrangle from his account of Thermum. The demarcation of two events for each is artificial, as both men undoubtedly would have had more contact with the king and counselled him on numerous other occasions. Aratus, for instance, is also reported to have advised the king in his dealings with Sparta (4.24.1–3) and with making the decision to attack Aetolia in 218 (5.5); Demetrius may have announced the defeat of Rome by Hannibal in 217  and exhorted the king to a new venture in the west (5.102).⁸⁷ It is significant

⁸⁷ Pédech (1964) 104.

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that these additional references were not included in the comparison. Polybius has simplified the comparison and argument, since two sets of episodes are less unwieldy than several and much easier for the reader to grasp. But this also leaves unquestioned Polybius’ account of Aratus’ advice to attack Aetolia in 218 and Demetrius’ encouragement to end the war with Aetolia and look west to Rome in 217, both of which could be viewed in opposition to Polybius’ point here. That this comparison is artificially constructed and one-sided is further revealed by the fact that Aratus always brings about a purely good outcome and Demetrius a purely bad one. Due to the fragmentary nature of Polybius’ account, we are unfortunately unable to say for sure whether Polybius recorded the specific details of Demetrius’ encouragement to Philip to incite both parties at Messene to violence in his narrative (Plb. 7.10), and it would be hard to say where he got this information if he did. We can obtain information about the internal conflict at Messene from Plutarch’s Aratus; however, he is unhelpful in illuminating the decision-making process and gives no indication as to who advised the king to the deed. We also find no reference to the Illyrian adviser before the conversation at Ithome (Plut. Arat. 49‒50). Plutarch’s account of the guidance given at Ithome by Aratus and Demetrius is sufficiently close to Polybius’ account that we may infer Plutarch followed Polybius’ Histories closely in this section. The fact that Demetrius of Pharus is not mentioned before the scene at Ithome by Plutarch might suggest, therefore, that there was no mention of the adviser in Polybius’ own narrative before Ithome. However, caution is needed here as Plutarch was prone to condensing details and his anti-Macedonian stance would have encouraged him to assign more blame for this decision to Philip himself. Yet, even if Polybius did record this advice by Demetrius, he has imposed more responsibility for both of these actions—the sacrilege at Thermum and the massacre at Messene—onto Demetrius than there actually would have been, since strategic decisions such as these would have been discussed more collectively (we might express the same doubts about Aratus’ advice and his involvement in Crete and Messene).⁸⁸ The artificiality of this polarization and Polybius’ aim to exonerate Aratus, moreover, are equally highlighted by the fact that Demetrius was not the only adviser to be placed in opposition to a good Aratus: Apelles is said to have come into conflict with Aratus a number of times throughout 219/18,⁸⁹ and, as was seen earlier, Leontius was also placed in opposition to the Sicyonian on the Thermum campaign. In these instances, we see Aratus consistently in the positive role, working against the cruel and violent advice of Philip’s Macedonian officers. ⁸⁸ See D’Agostini (2019) 41–6 for Philip’s close council and pp. 44–6 for collective decision-making. ⁸⁹ See Errington (1967) 19–36, Herman (1997) 218–22, Tataki (1998) 255, and D’Agostini (2019) 95–115 for the rivalry between Aratus and Apelles.

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Not all Macedonian and non-Greek advisers were portrayed negatively, however, as Alexander and Chrysogonos are mentioned (if briefly) in a positive light in Polybius’ summary of Philip’s achievements in Book 7 and in passing in describing the importance of advisers on the king in Book 9 (7.11.6 and at 9.23.9). On the other hand, it seems a striking coincidence that those who hold the negative position in Polybius’ comparisons are the ones who come up against Aratus: Apelles and his group, Leontius and Demetrius of Pharus. By these comparisons with bad individuals, Polybius argues that Aratus was not only good for Philip as a king but also exemplary in character. Any actions performed by the king deemed cruel or excessive could, therefore, have nothing to do with him. We might also question why Polybius chose to put Demetrius of Pharus into an oppositional role against Aratus at Messene when there were other advisers that could have filled this position. Notably, Taurion, Philip’s High Commissioner of the Peloponnese, who was named as one of Philip’s bad advisers alongside Demetrius at 9.23.9 (Φίλιππος δ᾽ ὁ βασιλεύς, ὅτε μὲν Ταυρίων ἢ Δημήτριος αὐτῷ συμπράττοιεν, ἦν ἀσεβέστατος . . . ). From what remains of Polybius’ text, it seems that this judgement refers to Taurion’s part in the alleged poisoning of Aratus in 213  (Plb. 8.12; Plut. Arat. 52), although again we do not have a specific passage in Polybius outlining advice on this occasion.⁹⁰ Given Taurion’s position as High Commissioner of the Peloponnese, however, it is likely that he was an opponent of Aratus even before 213, perhaps during and after the Messenian affair in 215 when the Sicyonian openly warned against and hindered Macedonian plans in the peninsula. Taurion would most likely have considered the suppression of conflict and the installation of a garrison at Messene a sensible strategy given the city’s unreliability and important location, and Philip’s intention to focus his attention elsewhere. He may even have suggested (or supported the suggestion of) taking such action to the king in an earlier council meeting. This would then place Taurion in an oppositional position to Aratus before 213, connected him with the events at Messene in 215, and explain why he and Demetrius were both named as bad advisers in Book 9. So why was Demetrius more preferable to Taurion for Polybius in advising Philip to enflame the conflict at Messene? First, Taurion was not with Philip on the Thermum campaign, and Polybius needed the same bad adviser to have advised Philip at both Thermum and Messene in order to argue more strongly that Aratus had a good character and was not to be blamed for the sacrilege at Thermum. Secondly, historically, Demetrius seems to have been with Philip when he first arrived at Messene in 215 before Aratus, and he was then present after the massacre to give the advice about garrisoning the city.⁹¹ It was a simple thing,

⁹⁰ Cf. Walbank HCP II 152. ⁹¹ It is possible that it was from Aratus that Polybius got his information concerning Demetrius’ involvement at Thermum in 218 , as well as his words at Messene 215 ; either that or he had some other Macedonian source who could have supplied him with details of the incident at Ithome.

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therefore, to assign Demetrius blame for the treatment of the Messenians beforehand. In doing so, Polybius was thereby able to deflect attention from Aratus’ failure to prevent the Messenian massacre and, more generally, to halt the increasing Macedonian control of the Peloponnese. While the events at Messene might otherwise have showcased the helplessness of Aratus and the Achaean League in the face of a Macedonian king rising in power, through clever argument Messene is instead turned on its head and used to defend and glorify Aratus.

Conclusion This chapter has discussed two specific episodes in the career of Philip which Polybius imbued with special importance in his Histories—his attack on Thermum in 218  and his instigation of conflict and attempt on Messene in 215 . They are connected by the fact that, in Polybius’ understanding of events, they reveal significant moments in the development of Philip’s character and his decline from a brilliant young king to a treacherous and ruthless tyrant. This association offers Polybius an opportunity to expound didactically on the correct political behaviour for public figures following to kalon and adhering to the laws of war, and to discuss the difficulties of choosing advisers. This latter point is clearly brought out by the construction of a polarized case study of Aratus of Sicyon and Demetrius of Pharus, split between Thermum and Messene. Conveniently, this case study also allows Polybius to defend his Achaean predecessor from criticisms attacking the connection Aratus held with Philip in his early reign and particularly the Achaean’s ineffectiveness in deterring the king’s aggressive actions against Messene. Polybius thereby overemphasizes the significance for Philip’s character of a particular moment in Greek history which merely indicated a change of Macedonian attitude and policy towards the Achaean League and Peloponnese. Highlighting Philip’s change of character rather than policy at the same time absolves Polybius from the need to reconsider Aratus’ position within the wider Greek political context linked with Rome. Polybius needed the political separation of the Achaean League from Macedon in 198 to be justified, especially as it broke from ties of long-term friendship which had brought much beneficial aid and stemmed from self-interest without significant provocation from Macedon. Chapter 2 has also seen Polybius’ wider aims for his narrative and Philip in action. Here we observed the start of Philip’s crucial decline in character from king to tyrant which gradually escalates and brings about his punishment by tyche at the end of his life. We also saw Aratus of Sicyon pushed to the forefront of the action, highlighting his influence and rationalizing presence on the king in his decision-making processes and thereby absolving the Achaean from a weak or negative influence on the Macedonian king. Much of the focus of this chapter has

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been on Philip’s advisers and their influence on his strategies and this angle has enabled us to explore some of the fundamental tensions in Polybius’ work, between the preservation of historical truth and the creation of an account which offers a certain political perspective on events and people. It has also provided us with a springboard with which to analyse Philip’s strategy in the Peloponnese and how he dealt with his enemies. In the following chapter we shall turn to a different, but equally important and related aspect of Polybius’ portrait of the king: Philip’s relationship with his Greek allies.

3 Philip V and His Greek Allies According to Polybius, Philip’s early interactions with his Greek allies were benevolent and kingly: he was considered the ‘darling of the Greeks’ (ἐρώμενος . . . τῶν Ἑλλήνων) having conferred great benefits on the Peloponnesians, Boeotians, Epirotes, and Acarnanians, and was the presiding officer (προστάτης) of the Cretan League (Plb. 7.11). Yet, at Messene in 215  this good relationship, Polybius claims, begins to change. Philip undergoes a ‘change for the worse’ (τῆς εἰς τοὔμπαλιν μεταβολῆς αὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς ἐπὶ χεῖρον ὁρμῆς καὶ μεταθέσεως; 7.11.1) following his instigation of conflict and a massacre in the city and begins acting badly towards his allies, spreading fear and hatred throughout the Greek world where once he had shown benevolence and goodwill: ἀπὸ τοίνυν τῶν κατὰ Μεσσηνίους ἐπιτελεσθέντων ἅπαντα τὴν ἐναντίαν ἐλάμβανε διάθεσιν αὐτῷ: καὶ τοῦτο συνέβαινε κατὰ λόγον · τραπεὶς γὰρ ἐπὶ τὴν ἀντικειμένην προαίρεσιν τῇ πρόσθεν, καὶ ταύτῃ προστιθεὶς ἀεὶ τἀκόλουθον, ἔμελλε καὶ τὰς τῶν ἄλλων διαλήψεις περὶ αὑτοῦ τρέψειν εἰς τἀναντία καὶ ταῖς τῶν πραγμάτων συντελείαις ἐγκυρήσειν ἐναντίαις ἢ πρότερον. (7.11.10‒11) After the assault on the Messenians had been accomplished, Philip came to take up a disposition opposite to this in every way, and this happened according to expectation: for having turned to principles which were the opposite of his previous [good] ones and constantly applying himself in this way in what followed, he would both reverse the opinions of others regarding himself [i.e. from goodwill to ill-will], as well as meet with outcomes contrary to those he met beforehand.

In Polybius’ eyes, Philip’s attempt on Messene the following year (214/213 ) consolidated this reversal in conduct as he now devastates his allies’ country as if an enemy (ἔφθειρε τὴν χώραν δυσμενικῶς; 8.8.1), turns his Messenian allies into enemies (Φίλιππος δὲ τοὺς μὲν Μεσσηνίους πολεμίους γεγονότας; 8.12.1; in 211 they have allied themselves with the Aetolians, 9.30.6), and is guilty of the greatest brutality towards friends as Polybius accuses the king of poisoning his old adviser, Aratus of Sicyon (εἰς δὲ τοὺς ἀναγκαιοτάτους τῶν φίλων τὴν μεγίστην ἀσέλγειαν ἐναπεδείξατο; 8.12.1). Philip’s treacherous and tyrannical behaviour then continues, according to Polybius’ narrative, as he alienates the Achaean leaders at the Nemean Games at Argos in 209  by his unrestrained and disrespectful conduct (10.26), turns the Rhodians against him in 204 by the destruction of their navy Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0004

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(13.4), captures the Aetolian cities, Lysimacheia, Chalcedon, and Cius while at peace in 202  (15.22‒3), and destroys allied towns in Thessaly in 198  in the wake of Roman invasion (18.3.8‒9). This long run of ruthlessness was only stopped by his defeat by Roman forces in 197  after which Polybius asserts Philip underwent another change of character reverting back to more kingly conduct (ποιῶν πρᾶγμα βασιλικὸν: 18.33).¹ Such is Polybius’ interpretation of Philip’s interactions with his Greek allies. The notion that Philip mistreated them, therefore, comes as a consequence of Polybius’ account of the king’s attempt on Messene and his interpretation of the king’s life as one that becomes increasingly tyrannical. However, it would be rash to assume that the king started to treat all his Greek allies in such a way from this point onwards, especially given the contrived nature of Polybius’ account of Philip’s life. Philip’s intention to install a garrison at Messene was not an exceptional policy at the time; Corinth, Heraea, Orchomenus, and Triphylia on the peninsula, as well as Demetrias, Bylazora, and Phthiotic Thebes (Philippopolis) on the mainland and Chalcis on Euboea, had all been secured by Macedonian forces for the same purpose. Nonetheless, the instigation of a massacre and the forced garrisoning of allied cities was not usual practice for Philip and therefore makes Messene a special case. In the above list Triphylia, Phthiotic Thebes, and Bylazora were all held by the enemy, Aetolia and Dardania, before Philip’s capture, and the rest were Macedonian possessions before his reign. Polybius’ emphasis on Messene marking the moment when Philip began to change must not therefore be allowed to lure us into thinking that this was the way in which the king always acted towards his allies after 215 . This chapter, therefore, sets out to investigate the relationship between Philip and his Greek allies, and argues that Philip was far from the brutal tyrant that Polybius wanted to paint him as, but rather an energetic and dedicated ally from the beginning of his reign to 196 . This year marks the end of this study because this is when the king is forced to relinquish his holdings and attachments in mainland Greece in accordance with the peace terms negotiated after his defeat at the battle of Cynoscephalae. Following this defeat, Philip’s involvement in Greece is confined to the northern and central regions as he aids Rome in her war against Antiochus III. He is never able to re-create the Symmachy once established in the Peloponnese and northern Greece.

The Sources and the Question of ‘the Greeks’ A complicating factor for this investigation is the increasingly fragmentary nature of Polybius’ text, requiring us to consult other sources (particularly Livy) to fill out ¹ See pp. 225–7 for further details of this change back to more kingly behaviour.

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our understanding of Philip’s actions in later years. The impression that Polybius leaves with us, however, even from what little we have of his work, indicates that he wanted to show Philip’s treatment of allies between 215 and 197  as increasingly unfaithful and treacherous. Yet, it has already been shown in the previous chapters that Polybius’ interpretation of the king is politically loaded and made to fit into his broader agenda of defending Achaean decisions and policies and educating his readers in leadership. We may question the simplicity and veracity of his depiction of the king turning into a treacherous tyrant. There were practical reasons for Philip’s attack on Thermum based on Macedonian interests, financial benefit, and support of the Achaean League against Aetolia. While Polybius may have recognized these advantages, he prefers to emphasize the damage done to the king’s reputation by such behaviour. Messene too, despite Polybius’ insistence, was not necessarily as important a moment in Macedonian policy or in the development of the king’s character as the historian would wish to show. Rather it represents a change in Philip’s primary focus of strategic and political interest rather than a deeper change in character. Epigraphic studies have also shown Philip to be attentive to religious matters, and zealous, perhaps intrusive, but equally respectful of local institutions in his interventions in the civic functions of various Macedonian and Greek cities.² The image of Philip V as a hateful, oppressive, and impious ‘tyrant’ emerges more from the literature than it does from the documentary evidence. The problems of assessing Philip’s behaviour towards his Greek allies have also been compounded by ambiguity of terminology and classification in both scholarship and Polybius’ text. Eckstein has, for instance, discussed Polybius’ declining depiction of the king in some detail and has listed all of the known treacherous deeds that Philip committed against the Greeks to illustrate how his betrayal of Antiochus III after their pact in 203  was not uncharacteristic of him.³ However, Eckstein includes in this list treacherous actions committed against states that were not officially allied to the king and were only connected to him by a peace treaty. The inclusion of Philip’s behaviour at Messene (215/14 ) and Argos (in 210 and 198 , discussed below) in a list noting the king’s acts of treachery against allies and friends is understandable, as both were members of the Symmachy of which Philip was hegemon. However, the secret pact to help the Cretans against Rhodes in 205/4, the employment of Heracleides to sabotage the Rhodian fleet, and the capture of the cities of Lysimacheia, Chalcedon, Cius (all allied to Aetolia), and Thasos (independent), do not correspond to the theme of treachery towards allies and friends. None of these states was actually allied to

² See the Introduction for the surviving epigraphic evidence. See Hatzopoulos (2014) 99–120, Mari & Thornton (2016) 139–59, Mari (2017a) 345–64, (2019) 193–224, and D’Agostini (2019) 147–56 for this assessment of Philip V as an administrator. ³ Eckstein (2008) 147–50.

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Macedon but either connected via peace treaties or independent in status, and these incidents therefore require separate treatment. They will be discussed in further detail below and illustrate that Philip treated those with whom he held an alliance differently to those with whom he did not. There has been some confusion, therefore, between the depiction of Philip becoming more ruthless in his dealings with the Greek world and the treatment which he accorded to his allies—a confusion which may have come about from the fluidity of Polybius’ own terminology and the incomplete nature of the surviving text. Walbank first pointed out this difficulty in discussing Polybius’ reference to Philip as κοινός τις . . . ἐρώμενος . . . τῶν Ἑλλήνων, ‘a universal darling of the Greeks’.⁴ He suggests that τῶν Ἑλλήνων would in this case have meant the members of the Symmachy (Philip’s allies), rather than the Greeks as a whole. While Walbank makes no further qualifying remark to support this statement, it is reasonable in the context: Polybius had just finished relating all of the benefits that Philip had conferred on his Greek allies at 7.11 and he does not mention any good acts towards neutrals or enemies. Although the passage is slightly fragmented and obscures the list of Greek beneficiaries, leaving us uncertain as to whether benefits were bestowed beyond allies (7.11.7: τὴν δὲ Πελοποννησίων καὶ Βοιωτῶν, ἅμα δὲ τούτοις Ἠπειρωτῶν, Ἀκαρνάνων, . . . ὅσων ἑκάστοις ἀγαθῶν ἐν βραχεῖ χρόνῳ παραίτιος ἐγένετο), there is still little problem in negating the assumption that τῶν Ἑλλήνων would have meant the Greeks in general: Philip’s protracted war against the Aetolians and their Spartan allies would certainly not have encouraged the view amongst them that Philip was their ‘darling’. Instead, he was an energetic and harsh enemy as his speed and conduct at Thermum and Sparta showed in 218 . Τῶν Ἑλλήνων, can only really refer, therefore, to those allied to Philip in the Symmachy. This lack of distinction between ‘all of the Greeks’ and ‘the members of the Symmachy’ at 7.11.8 is also likely to be carried forward into the following statement at 7.11.10‒11 (cited above). Here Polybius claims that after Philip had begun to change his conduct at Messene, the opinion of others towards him also changed accordingly.⁵ The others to whom Polybius refers must be identified as allies as they are the only ones who would have held such an exemplary opinion of the king so as to think of him as κοινός τις . . . ἐρώμενος . . . τῶν Ἑλλήνων. That these undefined Greeks experiencing Philip’s change for worse are allies is also supported a few chapters later when Polybius states that Aratus could see Philip changing his conduct towards this group (τὴν πρὸς τοὺς συμμάχους αἵρεσιν: 7.13.1). Therefore, it would appear that the historian on occasion makes little

⁴ Walbank HCP II 58; cf. Holleaux (1921) 164 n. 7; also discussed in Nicholson (2018b) 249–52. ⁵ Plb. 7.11.11: τραπεὶς γὰρ ἐπὶ τὴν ἀντικειμένην προαίρεσιν τῇ πρόσθεν . . . ἔμελλε καὶ τὰς τῶν ἄλλων διαλήψεις περὶ αὑτοῦ τρέψειν εἰς τἀναντία . . . for having turned to principles which were the opposite of his previous ones . . . he would both turn the opinion of others regarding himself to the opposite [i.e. from goodwill to ill-will], as well as meet with outcomes “contrary to those he met beforehand.”

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distinction between the Greeks in general and Philip’s Greek allies, a feature which has led to confusion in modern assessments of the king’s conduct in the Greek world. Philip was almost constantly at war with Aetolia and frequently so with Rhodes, resulting in a starkly different relationship from that with the Achaean League or the Cretan cities. If we are to investigate the treatment that Philip gave to his Greek allies and the severity of the picture that Polybius conveys, we must distinguish between three different types of status—official allies, states who held peace treaties with the king, and those unconnected with Philip or Macedon at all. Another aspect of Polybius’ narrative which may have compounded this confusion, as well as encouraged the view that the king was treacherous to all Greeks, is the presence of exhortations to Hellenic unity at the Peace of Naupactus that ended the Social War in 217 .⁶ This peace conference was given special significance by virtue of its being the designated beginning of the symploke in that it allegedly turned all Greek eyes to the conflict between Rome and Carthage and the possibility of a future invasion of Greece by a western power. The episode comes to a climax when Agelaus encourages the Greeks to stop quarrelling amongst themselves and instead to unify for their own safety. He finishes by addressing Philip, urging him not to exhaust the Greeks and make them easy prey to the invaders, but to consider them as if they were part of his own body and to protect every province in Greece as if they were part of his own dominion (5.104). This call for Panhellenic unity is remarkably similar to that voiced by Gorgias and Lysias in their Olympic Speeches in the fifth and fourth centuries in the face of Persian invasion, as well as Isocrates’ open invitation to Philip II to command the Greeks in their pursuit of revenge (Isoc. To Philip).⁷ It would be reasonable therefore to suppose that Polybius was making a direct comparison between the two Philips in this episode. The historian had already done so in his earlier discussion of proper moral behaviour at Thermum in Book 5 and another explicit example survives later at 22.18.10, when he points out the similarities in the respective roles of Philip II/Alexander and Philip V/Perseus in preparing and executing plans for war.⁸

⁶ For the conference of Naupactus, see Walbank (1940) 66‒7; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 388–91; Scherberich (2009) 153–4; and Kralli (2017) 298–300. ⁷ For Panhellenism, see Perlman (1976) 1–30, Flower (2000a) 65–101 and (2000b) 419–29, Mitchell (2007), and Noël (2017) 291‒9. ⁸ Plb. 22.18.10: καθάπερ γὰρ εἴπομεν Φίλιππον τὸν Ἀμύντου διανοηθῆναι καὶ προθέσθαι συντελεῖν τὸν πρὸς τοὺς Πέρσας πόλεμον, Ἀλέξανδρον δὲ τοῖς ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνου κεκριμένοις ἐπιγενέσθαι χειριστὴν τῶν πρά ξεων, οὕτω καὶ νῦν Φίλιππον μὲν τὸν Δημητρίου φαμὲν διανοηθῆναι πρότερον πολεμεῖν Ῥωμαίοις τὸν τελε υταῖον πόλεμον καὶ τὰς παρασκευὰς ἑτοίμας πάσας πρὸς ταύτην ἔχειν τὴν ἐπιβολήν, ἐκείνου δ᾽ ἐκχωρήσα ντος Περσέα γενέσθαι χειριστὴν τῶν πράξεων. Just as we said that Philip, son of Amyntas, conceived and meant to carry out the war against Persia, but that Alexander became the executor of his plans, so now I also maintain that Philip, son of Demetrius, first conceived of the last war against the Romans and made all preparations ready for the endeavour, but upon his death Perseus became the executor of his plans.

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In Polybius’ account of the peace of Naupactus, Philip is therefore called upon to protect and adhere to a Panhellenic spirit in his future endeavours. However, the advocacy of Hellenic unity under the leadership of the Macedonian is more a reflection of Greek aspirations and idealism than a realistic example of Macedonian policy in practice. Moreover, the authenticity of this speech is suspect and the extent to which Polybius has adapted it remains uncertain.⁹ Even if this sentiment was voiced by Agelaus at Naupactus, it may also have been picked up by Philip V in order to foster and enhance his support in Greece; it was a convenient slogan based on traditions stretching back through the last two centuries and would have encouraged the depiction of him as a benevolent king. In reality, however, it was not something which Philip would have felt particularly compelled to adhere to should it hinder Macedonian interests. In investigating Philip’s relationship with his Greek allies, therefore, it is important to be aware of Polybius’ emphasis on this Panhellenic purpose at the start of his discussion of the symploke. Its inclusion adds further credence to the negative picture of Philip by muddling allies and enemies together in the descriptions of the king’s behaviour, oversimplifying the political situation. Modern scholarship has also tended to concentrate on the king’s relationship with the Symmachy and the Achaean League. Scherberich offered a rich and thorough analysis of the nature, structure, and history of the Symmachy in 2009, and Kralli and Shipley have recently observed the high importance of the Macedonian kings in the political development of the Hellenistic Peloponnese (particularly in supporting the weak leadership of the Achaean League), yet also noted the limitations of the kings’ influence over the region and their preference for ‘delegation from a distance’.¹⁰ De Sanctis, Eckstein, and Gruen have given special attention to the Macedonian‒Achaean relationship running up to the League’s defection in 198 .¹¹ There has yet been no reassessment of Polybius’ depiction of Philip’s relationship with his Greek allies. Therefore, taking up the thread of the argument from the previous chapter, the image of Philip in the rest of Polybius’ Histories also needs to be considered. This chapter will investigate, in as far as the fragmentary nature of the evidence will allow, the validity and veracity of Polybius’ interpretation of Philip’s treatment of his allies. An analysis of the ⁹ Deininger (1973) 103–8 believes that the Panhellenic sentiments run counter to Polybius’ attitude towards the Aetolians and that this is therefore historical. This is in line with the modern communis opinion also advocated by Gruen (1984) 324 n. 34. On the other hand, Mørkholm (1967) 240–53 and (1974) 127–32, and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 390 view these Panhellenic sentiments to be anachronistic and the speech a Polybian fabrication. Champion (1997) 111–28 convincingly revisits this problem and suggests that Polybius selected and embellished a tradition from Agelaus’ speech that advanced his theory of the symploke. For discussions concerning Polybius’ historiographical practices concerning speeches, see Walbank (1963) 211–13, (1967) 397; Sacks (1981) 82–5 refutes Walbank. ¹⁰ Scherberich (2009); Kralli (2017) particularly chs. 5, 6, and 7; and Shipley (2018) 54–91, 105–25, 245–54. ¹¹ For the Macedonian‒Achaean relationship between 200 and 198 , see also De Sanctis (1923) 40–3; Eckstein (1976) particularly 138–41, reiterated in (2008) 278–82; Gruen (1984) 444–6.

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narrative sections in the Histories will illustrate that once again Polybius’ interpretation is exaggerated and even erroneous. Livy’s account will prove essential in checking Polybius’ narrative in places, as well as helping to fill in some of the gaps in Philip’s later years. First, an analysis of Philip’s treatment of his allies until 215 will be conducted to make a comparison with the king’s treatment of his allies after this date—the point when Polybius claims that Philip changed. From this investigation, not only will we reveal the threads of argument, political and cultural, in Polybius’ portrait of Philip, but also proffer an alternative and more balanced picture of the Macedonian king, moderating the negative and loaded commentary of the ancient historian.

Part 1: Philip’s Treatment of His Allies Before Messene (220‒215 ) For the years between 220 and 215 , we can unfortunately only rely on Polybius’ account as Livy does not record Greek affairs until 211  when the Romans first appear on the scene. Yet, we are conversely fortunate that the relevant section of Polybius’ text, Books 4 and 5, survive in their entirety and make the task of charting Philip’s interactions with his allies between 220 and 215 much easier. This permits us to explore with a greater degree of clarity the picture of this early relationship, Philip’s role as hegemon and benefactor, and his behaviour in dealing with disputes among his allies.

Philip V as Hegemon of the Symmachy The majority of Philip’s Greek alliances were established at the beginning of his reign, when, as successor to the founder and original hegemon of the Symmachy, Antigonus III Doson, the position was transferred to him in 220  (Plb. 4.9.4 and 13.7, and implied at 4.2.11, and 26.8).¹² It appears to have been a smooth changeover of leadership and the young king took up the same policy established in the previous reign: namely using the Symmachy to build and consolidate Macedonian influence in mainland Greece and the Peloponnese.¹³ This had been a long-term policy of the Macedonian kingdom first implemented by Philip II in 338/7 by his establishment of the League of Corinth, not only to ¹² For a comprehensive discussion of the Symmachy, its foundation, members, institutions, and history, see Scherberich (2009). ¹³ For Philip’s takeover of leadership of the Symmachy from Antigonus Doson, see Walbank (1940) 19–20, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 369 (who argues that Taurion was probably chosen as hegemon during Philip’s minority), Le Bohec (1993) 467–76, Scherberich (2009) 104 (who disagrees with Hammond that Taurion temporarily took on the role as hegemon), and D’Agostini (2019) 16–29.

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increase political power, influence, trade, and military resources, but also to ensure the safety of Macedon from its antagonistic southern neighbours.¹⁴ However, the kingdom’s power within Greece had been unstable since the death of Alexander, fluctuating during the course of the Successor Wars, and was only re-established with any firmness by Doson in 224  (4.9.4).¹⁵ As hegemons of the Symmachy, the Macedonian kings were allowed to summon meetings of the council (synedrion), make decisions on questions of war and peace, vote for supplies, confirm the initiation of new members into the alliance, and were ex officio commander-in-chief.¹⁶ During Philip’s reign the members of the Symmachy included the Macedonians, Achaeans, Epirotes, Phocians, Boeotians, Acarnanians, Euboeans, and Thessalians (4.9.5, 7.11.7, 11.5.4).¹⁷ These connections meant that Macedonian influence spanned a large part of the Peloponnese and mainland Greece providing a platform from which the young king could find political, financial, and military support, as well as cultivate an active presence and reputation in Greek affairs. The Symmachy’s importance is evident in the dedication and consistency of the attention given to it by the king: we see not only Philip himself, but also the Macedonian commander, Taurion, working in the Peloponnese for the Achaean League’s interests before and during the start of Philip’s reign (cf. Plb. 4.6.4‒7, 10.2‒6, 19.7‒10, 87.8).¹⁸ Moreover, Philip is dissuaded from garrisoning Messene in the first instance in 215, because Aratus warned him that he would lose the goodwill and loyalty of his allies should he do so (7.12‒13). The confederation ultimately proved essential in establishing Philip’s influence in the Greek world and built up the diplomatic and military foundations for his later successes. The king’s first chance to engage with his allies occurred in 220, before the Social War had been declared, when he was called upon by the Achaeans to aid ¹⁴ For the League of Corinth, see Dem. 17.10, 15; Just. 9.5.1–6; and IG 2² 236 (the League’s oath). See also Perlman (1985) 153–74, Ashley (1998) 425–6, Dixon (2014) 19–25, and Shipley (2018) 41–2. ¹⁵ This was based on the confederations of Philip II/Alexander and Antigonus I Monophthalmus/ Demetrius I Poliorcetes, but had as its units leagues (Achaean, Acarnanian, Boeotian, etc.) instead of cities; Walbank (1984b) 446–81 and (1988) 351 and Scherberich (2009) 75. For Doson’s establishment and goal of the Symmachy in 224 , see Le Bohec (1993) 378–403 and Scherberich (2009) 15–79. ¹⁶ Plb. 2.54.4 asserts that Doson claimed this position when he drew up the Symmachy in 224 . See also Le Bohec (1993) 390–1 and Scherberich (2009) 179–81 for the position of the Macedonian king as hegemon of the Symmachy. ¹⁷ Euboea, Opuntian Locris, two Cretan towns, Eleutherna and Hierapytna, and Demetrius of Pharus have also been variously credited with membership of the Symmachy. For the inclusion of Euboea, see e.g. Ferguson (1913) 243; Tarn (1928) 759; Treves (1940) 160; Will (1979) 389; and Le Bohec (1993) 380–4. For Opuntian Locris, see Flacelière (1937) 280–1; Le Bohec (1993) 384–5; Lefèvre 1998) 81 n. 397. For Demetrius of Pharus, Le Bohec (1987) 203–8 and Coppola (1993) 54–8. See also Scherberich (2009) 17–18 (for a summary of these arguments and Euboea), 34–9 (for a rejection of Locris’ membership), 200–9 (for the uncertainty of Eleutherna and Hierapytna), and 211–16 (for a rejection of Demetrius’ membership). Macedonian membership of the Symmachy was strongly disputed by Treves (1935) 52–4, who claimed that the Macedonians, while acting as hegemon, always remained outside the alliance. This question was left open by Walbank (1940) 16 and Schmitt (1969) 216 but has now been soundly rejected by Scherberich (2009) 183, 185–6. ¹⁸ For Taurion, see D’Agostini (2019) 63–8 and nn. 4 and 5, 79–80, 108–10, 117–19.

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them following Aetolian and Elean raids on the city Cynaetha (4.19.1). At first, Philip, via Taurion, was only able to send a relief force led by Demetrius of Pharus (at this point still an Illyrian chief and not yet a courtier at the Macedonian court) in support of their request (4.19); this force missed the enemy who had already traversed the Isthmus back to Aetolia two days beforehand and quickly returned to Corinth after raiding the Aetolian coast. The king, who had ventured out soon afterwards from Macedonia, was also too late to confront the enemy as the Aetolian generals, Scopas and Dorimachus, had already returned home by the time he reached Corinth (4.22.1‒2).¹⁹ Despite his lateness Philip clearly showed willingness and effort in sending them support and even came to his allies’ aid personally when called, a trait which appears time and again in his treatment of them during this period. In Corinth, Philip calls the members of the Symmachy to a meeting at which it is finally decided to go to war against the Aetolians (4.25‒6).²⁰ The king then diligently collects Macedonian troops in 220/19 for the coming conflict (4.29), sends out more troops (from the members of the Symmachy) in response to the requests of the Polyrrhenians, Lappaians, and their allies in Crete, bringing them into the Symmachy at the same time (4.55.1‒5). In 219  he follows the wishes of his Epirote allies by attacking the fortress of Ambracus in Ambracia (4.61‒62.1, 63). Even as Macedonia and Thessaly are ravaged by the Aetolians, Philip brings to successful completion the siege of Ambracus and hands the city over to the Epirotes (4.63.1‒4). The success and goodwill of this last act is played down by Polybius, who claims that the war could have been won there and then if Philip had not been sidetracked by the Epirotes’ request (4.61.3–4). There is good reason to question Polybius’ judgement here. Although the recovery of Ambracia from the Aetolians was not explicitly stated in the declaration of intent recorded by Polybius, it was likely one of the aims of the war declared by the Symmachy.²¹ Not only is its requisition part of the original plan set down in the League’s aims of war, but there is also sound reasoning behind the move. The recovery of the territory was of high importance to the Epirotes as well as to Philip: Aetolian control of the region entailed Aetolian control of the Ambracian gulf, the most

¹⁹ For Philip’s attempt to aid the Achaeans after the raid of Cynaetha, see Walbank (1940) 29–30; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 372; Scholten (2000) 205–6; Scherberich (2009) 119, 215–16; and D’Agostini (2019) 64. ²⁰ For the Symmachy’s declaration of war against Aetolia, see Walbank (1940) 32–4; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 372–4; Scherberich (2009) 123–9. ²¹ Walbank (1940) 32. The terms stated by Polybius are vague but widely inclusive: προθέμενοι δὲ τὰς προειρημένας αἰτίας ἐν τῷ δόγματι παρακατεβάλοντο ψήφισμα, προσδιασαφοῦντες ὅτι συνανασώσουσι τοῖς συμμάχοις, εἴ τινα κατέχουσιν αὐτῶν Αἰτωλοὶ χώραν ἢ πόλιν ἀφ᾽ οὗ Δημήτριος ὁ Φιλ ίππου κατὰ φύσιν πατὴρ μετήλλαξε. After setting out the above reasons in the decree, they subjoined a declaration outlining that they would recover for their allies any land or city occupied by the Aetolians since the death of Demetrius, father of Philip (4.25.6).

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direct route into Acarnania as well as into Aetolia itself (4.63.3‒6).²² Strongly fortified and well positioned to effectively control the town and surrounding country, the capture of the fortress of Ambracus would allow the recovery of the whole region (4.61.7). It is equally likely that Philip knew of the fort’s strategic value not only for an enemy invasion, but also for communicating with and protecting his Acarnanian allies. This is evident by the fact that even when he learnt of a simultaneous Aetolian attack in Thessaly and Pieria, the king persisted in his assault.²³ Polybius’ criticism therefore does not appreciate the rationale behind the king’s actions. Recovering the fort would not only create a good impression among both the Acarnanians and Epirotes as allies but would also disrupt Aetolian defences in the region and build up Philip’s reputation as a military leader and strengthen Macedonian influence within other allied cities. Philip continues to act quickly and diligently upon his allies’ calls in the years 219 and 218 .²⁴ Despite being unable to help the Achaeans during his capture of Ambracia and the fortification of the city of Oeniadae, the latter completed in response to a Dardanian attack on Macedonia, Philip promises to provide them with as much help as he can muster once the Dardanians are dealt with (4.66.1‒2). He keeps and fulfils this promise even going beyond the hopes of the Peloponnesians and appearing unexpectedly with an army at Corinth around the winter solstice (4.67.6). His swift arrival in the peninsula and his defeat of Aetolian forces at Stymphalus shortly afterwards (4.68‒69.8) are heard about simultaneously causing astonishment among the Peloponnesians (4.69.9). The unexpectedness of a winter campaign must surely have illustrated Philip’s determination in warfare as well as his dedication to the task of protecting his Peloponnesian allies. It is therefore unsurprising that Philip, arriving in Argos for the winter after only three years on the throne, had already won admiration for his behaviour and achievements, the latter considered beyond his years (4.82.1). There is one more direct call for aid made by Philip’s allies in Polybius’ text before the attempt on Messene. In 218 , embassies from the Acarnanians and Messenians call on Philip while he is besieging Pale on the island of Cephallenia, then under Aetolian control (5.5). The Acarnanians ask the king to invade Aetolia as the Aetolian general, Dorimachus, was abroad rampaging in Macedonia with half of the Aetolian forces. An invasion would therefore be relatively simple and force the Aetolians out of Macedonia (5.5.1–2; see Chapter 2). The latter ask for help against Lycurgus of Sparta, who had marched out against Messenia, and argue that Philip would be able to make a quick sea-crossing to the region because ²² Cf. Scholten (2000) 221 for the strategic importance of Ambracia and D’Agostini (2019) 70–2 for the Macedonian interest in Epirus and Acarnania, and the personal importance of the Epirotes for Philip V himself. ²³ This involved the Aetolian attack on Dium (Plb. 4.61.1–2). ²⁴ For Philip’s reputation for speed and the links Polybius makes between the theme and youthfulness, see McGing (2010) 100–16 and (2013) 189–91, 195–6.

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the Etesian winds had set in and were favourable for a journey to Messenia at this time of year. The king’s attack would therefore be unexpected and almost certainly successful (5.5.3‒4). After a discussion with his advisers, however, it is determined that while the winds allowed easy travel to Messenia, they would make it impossible to sail back to Cephallenia or Aetolia afterwards. With these considerations in mind, Philip decides to split his resources and sends Eperatus, the Achaean general, to help the Messenians while he himself and his army invade Aetolia (5.5.5‒15).²⁵ Both requests for aid were consequently met and, once again, Philip responds quickly and efficiently. The examples above are only those instances when Philip was called directly by his allies,²⁶ but there are also others where Philip acts for the interests of his allies (and himself) on his own initiative: his approach and establishment of friendship with Scerdilaidas to increase the pool of resources and manpower for the war (4.29.2‒3); his fortification of Oeniadae in Ambracia in 219 to gain access to Acarnania and to launch an invasion on Aetolia (4.65); his capture of Psophis, previously in Elean hands (an ally of the Aetolians), to create a bulwark in the defence of Arcadia and a base for the attack on Elis (4.70‒1); his decision to prosecute the war by sea in order to attack the island of Cephallenia, at the time an Aetolian naval base for raids on the Peloponnese (5.2); and finally Philip’s defence of Tegea against Spartan aggression (5.18‒23). Based on Polybius’ account, Philip is energetic and fully committed in his defence of his allies in Greece. Even while Macedonia is being raided by the Aetolians (in 219 and 218; 4.61.1‒2 and 5.5.1‒2 respectively) and the Dardanians (in 219; 4.66.1‒2), he still manages to act effectively. Nor did Philip’s support of his allies only extend to military action. During this early period Philip is described as being benevolent in his handling of diplomatic affairs. His intervention in the factional disputes at Sparta in the summer of 220 show him to be lenient even towards those with questionable loyalty (4.22‒4). Upon the succession of such a young king (Philip was only 17), three of the five Spartan ephors were more inclined to side with the Aetolians than Macedon, perceiving it as weak.²⁷ However, the Aetolians quickly retreated after hearing

²⁵ The crowning achievement of this campaign being Philip’s sack of Thermum mentioned in the previous chapter; see 5.6–14 for the invasion of Aetolia. ²⁶ Philip and the Symmachy were called for (παρακαλεῖν αὐτοὺς βοηθεῖν) by the Achaeans in 221 , Plb. 4.15.1–2; and Philip was called again (παρακαλῶν βοηθεῖν) by the Achaean League to help Cynaetha in 220 , 4.19.1. Requests for aid also came from Crete in 220 (πέμπουσι πρέσβεις πρός τε τὸν βασιλέα καὶ τοὺς Ἀχαιοὺς περὶ βοηθείας καὶ συμμαχίας; 4.55.1–5), from Epirus in 219 (πεισθεὶς τοῖς Ἠπειρώταις . . . ἐδέοντο τοῦ Φιλίππου ποιήσασθαι πολιορκίαν; 4.61–62.1, 63); from the Achaean League again in 219 (πέμπουσι πρέσβεις, ἀξιοῦντες βοηθεῖν; 4.64, 66.2); and from Acarnania and Messene in 218 (οἱ μὲν παρὰ τῶν Ἀκαρνάνων παρακαλοῦντες αὐτὸν ἐμβαλεῖν . . . οἱ δὲ παρὰ τῶν Μεσσηνίων δεόμενοι σφίσι βοηθεῖν; 5.5.1–4). ²⁷ See McGing (2010) 97–108 and (2013) 181–99, a discussion about the expectation, particularly by Sparta and Aetolia, that the youthfulness of the king would make him ineffective and incompetent as a leader.

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about Philip’s swift, unexpected appearance in the Peloponnese in 220 (after Cynaetha). A massacre ensued in Sparta in which many pro-Macedonians were killed, including one of the three ephors in favour of Philip, Adeimantus, who was also privy to the designs of the pro-Aetolian party (4.22). Messengers were subsequently sent to Philip requesting that he delay his approach to the city in order to give it time to recover and stating that it was the city’s continued intention to maintain its friendship and obligations towards Macedon. The king responded by requesting that representatives be sent to him at Tegea to discuss the situation, to which ten were sent. These blamed Adeimantus for the disturbance and promised to follow the terms of the alliance faithfully and to appear second to none in their devotion towards him (4.23.1‒6). There was, however, a divide in the king’s council regarding the course of action to be taken against Sparta.²⁸ Some (whom Polybius does not name) were persuaded that Adeimantus and the others had died because of their Macedonian sympathies, and advocated destroying the city as Alexander had done to Thebes in 335.²⁹ However, the older advisers (once again unnamed), viewing this as too heavy a punishment, suggested only punishing the guilty party, removing them from office and placing the government in the hands of the king’s friends (4.23.7‒9). In the end, Philip followed the latter, more lenient advice, claiming that since the Spartans had not injured the whole Symmachy it was not necessary for him to punish them. Moreover, his uncle and predecessor had treated the Spartans with similar kindness even after he had defeated them as an enemy,³⁰ and it was therefore more appropriate as his successor to treat them in a like manner, especially as they were allies in the Symmachy.³¹ Philip’s actions, although very likely dictated by the influence of his advisers, as Polybius states, were measured and respectful, and would have offered a good example of the magnanimity that his allies might expect in the future. Immediately after the Spartan decision, the aims of the Social War were set down at a meeting of the Symmachy at Corinth in 220 .³² These included: the recovery for the allies of any city or land occupied by the Aetolians since the death of Demetrius II (Philip’s father); the restoration of the former governments and

²⁸ For Philip’s Close Council and its workings in this episode, see D’Agostini (2019) 43–6; for depiction of Philip in these proceedings, see McGing (2010) 100–1, 104. ²⁹ In 335, the Theban democrats assaulted Cadmea upon rumours of Alexander’s death and seemed likely to encourage revolts throughout the rest of Greece. Alexander marched from Pelion on the Illyrian border to Thebes and seized the city. Thebes was destroyed, except for Pindar’s house, and a large portion of the population were enslaved, a decision allegedly approved by the League of Corinth. (Arrian Anab. 1.7–9). ³⁰ At the battle of Sellasia in 222 : Plb. 2.65–70, cf. 4.69.5 and Polybius’ comments at 5.9. For this battle, see Hammond & Walbank (1988) 354–62; Le Bohec (1993) 405–46; Shipley (2018) 70–1. ³¹ Sparta soon after betrayed and left the Symmachy by siding with the Aetolians to make war on the Achaeans, Plb. 4.34–6. ³² For the objectives of the Symmachy in declaring war against the Aetolians, see Scherberich (2009) 124–5.

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freedom of all cities who were compelled to join the Aetolian League unwillingly (τοὺς ὑπὸ τῶν καιρῶν ἠναγκασμένους ἀκουσίως μετέχειν τῆς Αἰτωλῶν συμπολιτείας; 4.25.7),³³ and finally the recovery of the Amphictyonic Council from Aetolian control (4.25.8).³⁴ Other than the recovery of the Amphictyony, which would fall into Macedonian hands, the aims of the war did not outwardly appear to benefit Macedon. As hegemon of the Symmachy and a benefactor to his allies, Philip was effective in publicly appearing to show great concern for them, perhaps even more so than for his own kingdom. Yet, it should be remembered that although the Social War was undertaken by Philip as a great show of support towards his allies, his participation was primarily motived by self-interest. The war would allow him the opportunity to establish a reputation as a benevolent new king and successful military commander, to acquire territory and booty, as well as bolster the reputation of Macedon’s strength in general. Treating his allies with respect, rewarding them with gifts and benefits for their loyalty, and defending their interests was part of the plan for fostering Macedonian strength. The king’s constant interaction with leaders and ambassadors from allied states also seems to encourage this positive view of Philip. However, although the king was hegemon of the Symmachy and commander-in-chief of its forces, all decisions had to be ratified by each member-state.³⁵ Regular meetings with his allies were essential for the endorsement of envisaged actions and logistical decisions; moving without the approval of the members of the Symmachy could prove dangerous to its stability and potentially cause defection.³⁶ Philip ensured that he met the Achaean League at their annual assemblies at Aegium (4.26.8; 5.1.6‒7) and called extra meetings to discuss matters in the war (4.22.1, 25.1‒8; 5.17.8‒9, 28.3, 29.4). It was also the king’s prerogative to decide when to sue for peace and to head the resulting negotiations, which he does with the Aetolians in 217 (5.102.8‒103.8). However, the other members of the Symmachy were still heavily involved in the process. At the end of 218, a Rhodian and Chian embassy mediates a thirty-day truce in Aetolia for the discussion of peace terms and begs Philip to meet with the Aetolians at Rhium. The king writes to his allies requesting commissioners be sent to Patrae to meet him and confer on conditions of peace (5.28.3). After the Aetolians’ failure to meet Philip at Rhium, he gladly carries on ³³ These included Ambracia and Amphilochia in Epirus and Phthiotic Achaea in Thessaly, and very likely also included the areas west of the Achelous in Acarnania (Stratus, Oeniadae, Metropolis, and Phoetiae), western Phocis, and eastern Locris (the district of Scarphea and Thronium); see Walbank HCP I 472–3 and Scherberich (2009) 124 for further discussion. ³⁴ The Aetolians had controlled Delphi and the Amphictyonic Council throughout the third century. The inclusion of this clause seems to suggest that the allies hoped to turn the conflict into a Sacred War for the liberation of Delphi. See Walbank HCP I 473 and Scherberich (2009) 124–5. ³⁵ On the administrative features of the Symmachy, see Le Bohec (1993) 390–7 and Scherberich (2009) 177–94. ³⁶ Polybius relates how the cities of Dyme and Pherae set a dangerous separatist precedent in refusing to pay their contribution because no military aid had come to assist them from the Achaean League when needed against the Aetolians in 218  (5.30).

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the war, confident of future success, and begs the allies not to think of peace (5.29.4). It is not until the middle of 217 after hearing about the Roman defeat by Hannibal at Lake Trasimene that Philip is once again desirous of ending the conflict (5.102.3) and, as the Achaeans were also glad for its closure, a peace treaty was finally negotiated at Naupactus for the status quo (5.103, 105.1‒2).³⁷ Philip’s actions here are in line with the terms of the Symmachy and his own role as hegemon and commander-in-chief in it.

Philip and the Achaean League In Polybius’ Histories we get to observe the development of Macedon’s relationship with the Achaean League much more closely than any other of her allies. This is not unexpected given Polybius’ background, political leanings, and ready access to Achaean/Aratean source material, nor surprising given Macedon’s close connection with the Achaean League from 224  onwards and Aratus’ advisory role at the courts of both Antigonus Doson and Philip. However, this imbalance often means that any description or interpretation of the king’s treatment of his allies is primarily founded on his relationship with the Achaean League, and readers must be alert to this generalization. Furthermore, as we saw in the last two chapters, in the context of the Histories, Philip’s character and behaviour are developed according to this one relationship, making Polybius’ view of these proceedings particularly important for the king’s construction. In the early stages of his reign, Philip’s treatment of the Achaeans is portrayed as benevolent and respectful: ἀπελογίσατο δὲ καὶ τὴν αἵρεσιν καὶ τὴν εὔνοιαν, ἣν ἔχοι πρὸς τὸ ἔθνος, ἐπὶ δὲ πᾶσιν ἔφη καὶ νῦν παραχωρεῖν καὶ διδόναι τοῖς Ἀχαιοῖς τὴν πόλιν: προκεῖσθαι γὰρ αὐτῷ τὰ δυνατὰ χαρίζεσθαι καὶ μηθὲν ἐλλείπειν προθυμίας. (4.72.5) He gave an account of the inclination and goodwill that he held towards their people, and after this announced that he would now withdraw from the city (Psophis) and give it to the Achaeans, for he had resolved to favour them by all means in his power and omit nothing in his ready kindness towards them.

Polybius’ young Philip appears to hold the Achaeans in a special relationship and to be committed to doing everything possible to promote and uphold their interests. Yet, the need to keep this relationship friendly also meant that the king was at times prevented from pursuing Macedonian interests, notably the ³⁷ For this peace and its success, see Walbank (1940) 65–6, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 389–91, and Scherberich (2009) 153–4. For the differences in Polybius’ and Trogus/Justin’s accounts of the peace of Naupactus, see D’Agostini (2019) 134–8.

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establishment of a secure base in Messenia and the expansion of power and influence. Such deference reveals just how important the Achaean League was as an ally. From this passage onwards in Book 4 (4.72), at the end of 219, Philip’s relations with the Achaeans are mainly focused on Aratus and the machinations of Apelles and the Macedonian officers against him. The events are complicated and the account of them one-sided not only because of Polybius’ Achaean/Aratean perspective, but also because the historian uses Aratus’ own Memoirs for this section of his work. However, an outline of these events summarizing Polybius’ depiction of Philip’s benevolence towards the Achaeans, and especially Aratus, will illuminate the nature of the Achaean/Macedonian relationship and what it meant to both parties. Although we should be cautious not to take Polybius’ account too much at face value and not to credit Philip with too much goodwill towards the Achaeans (the speech above was given in front of an Achaean audience and meant to encourage goodwill), they were a major player in the Symmachy and the Peloponnese at that time and offered the king financial and military support. Preserving their goodwill, and especially that of Aratus, was critical. It was in 219  that Philip first gave an example of this respectful and benevolent treatment when he put a stop to Apelles’ attempts to oppress Achaean citizens (4.76). Apelles had not only allowed the Macedonians to eject Achaean soldiers from their billets and to take their share of booty, but also had inflicted punishment on the latter through his subordinates for trivial matters, arresting anyone who protested or tried to intervene. His intention, as Polybius reports, was to reduce the Achaeans to the same condition of the Thessalians who were forced to obey the king and his officers’ orders as if they were Macedonian subjects (4.76.1‒6). Hearing of the disturbances from Aratus, Philip reassures him that nothing of the sort would happen again and orders Apelles not to give any more orders to the Achaeans without first consulting their general (4.76.9).³⁸ Polybius then points out Philip’s kingly and benevolent behaviour in this episode, stating that by this the king was beginning to win a good reputation, both politically and militarily, among all the Peloponnesians (4.77.1).³⁹ Apelles, however, is persistent in his endeavour to bring the Achaeans under the yoke and later in 219 persuades the king to promote one of Aratus’ political rivals to the generalship of the Achaeans as this would place fewer constraints on the king and Macedonian policy. He succeeds in getting Eperatus of Pharae into

³⁸ For these events and their connection with the Macedonian military code, see D’Agostini (2019) 47–57. ³⁹ Plb. 4.77.1: Φίλιππος μὲν οὖν κατὰ τὴν ὁμιλίαν τὴν πρὸς τοὺς ἐν τοῖς ὑπαίθροις συνδιατρίβοντας καὶ κατὰ τὴν ἐν τοῖς πολεμικοῖς πρᾶξιν καὶ τόλμαν οὐ μόνον παρὰ τοῖς στρατευομένοις, ἀλλὰ καὶ παρὰ τοῖς λοιποῖς πᾶσι Πελοποννησίοις εὐδοκίμει. Philip, therefore, both by his behaviour to those with whom he associated in the field and by his ability and daring in war, was winning a high reputation not only among those who served with him, but also among all the rest of the Peloponnesians.

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office, defeating the candidate backed by Aratus, Timoxenus (4.82.2–8).⁴⁰ Yet, this in fact caused the relationship between the king and Aratus to become so strained that Philip was unable to win Achaean support in his request for a provision of grain and money from the League in 218 . The king had to reconcile this rift between himself and the Achaean statesman by transferring the Assembly to Sicyon and laying the blame for what happened onto Apelles before consent could be gained (5.1.6‒12). Throughout these incidents, Philip is described as acting like a just king who treats Aratus and the Achaeans fairly. Yet, while the focus is primarily centred on the Macedonians and Achaeans from the middle of Book 4, the king’s ongoing endeavour to support and aid all of his allies is still evident. From the outset Philip had been concerned about establishing communication and access routes to all of them: capturing Ambracus for the Epirotes helped to create a more convenient route to the king’s Acarnanian allies, and his decision to prosecute the war by sea at the beginning of 218, assaulting Pale on the island of Cephallenia (5.2‒5), was an attempt to deny the Aetolians access to a naval base positioned perfectly for attacks on both the Peloponnese and Acarnania.⁴¹ Furthermore, at the end of 218 Philip was anxious to capture Phthiotic Thebes, then under Aetolian control, to protect his allies in Thessaly and Magnesia in 218 (5.99). The prevalence of Achaean matters in Polybius’ Histories at this time and Philip’s frequent presence in the Peloponnese is not evidence that the king was more dedicated to his Achaean allies than others, however. The Social War was initially advocated by the Achaean League against the Aetolians; yet Philip and the other members of the Symmachy (the Acarnanians, Epirotes, Boeotians, Euboeans, etc.) agreed that the war would be shared by all (4.26). As hegemon and commander-in-chief, Philip would be found where he was most needed. The Aetolians’ persistent assault on Peloponnesian territory made it inevitable that his presence would be most felt by the Achaeans.

Philip’s Kingly Behaviour Polybius asserts in a number of digressions and comments that Philip displayed kingly behaviour during this early period and subsequently nurtured a good reputation among the Greeks. The king’s standing increased after his fair treatment of the Achaeans in 219 and 218 (4.77.1), he won admiration for his diplomatic conduct and military achievements in 219 (4.82.1) and, despite ⁴⁰ Aratus could not run for office this year as the League’s policy dictated that candidates could not hold the position of strategos successively; see Larsen (1968) 220. ⁴¹ See Walbank (1940) 40–2, 62–3 for Philip’s persistence in establishing lines of communication between Macedon and his allies, and Shipley (2018) 246 for Philip’s protective stance towards the Peloponnese.

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Polybius’ statement to the contrary, he seems to have won further approval for his successful plundering of Thermum in 218  (5.8‒14; see Chapter 2). This theme continues throughout the narrative of the Social War and comes to a climax in 215 at 7.10, before the historian relates the horror of the Messenian massacre and the king’s attempt on the city (7.12‒14).⁴² At this crucial juncture Polybius first summarizes the brilliance of the king’s beginning (7.11): he states that none of the allied states that Philip had inherited from Doson revolted from him because of his kingly, benevolent behaviour; that he was held in great affection by many of his friends; and that he had conferred great benefits on the Peloponnesians, Boeotians, Epirotes, and Acarnanians. Therefore, throughout the account of these early years Philip is presented as a militarily successful and benign ruler, an image which has been intensifying as the narrative progresses. Always ready to come to his allies’ aid, persistently energetic in the war effort, and showing continuous goodwill and respect, it is no wonder that Philip is described by Polybius as the darling of the Greeks (7.11). According to Polybius, Philip did everything that he could to secure the goodwill and support of his Greek allies at the beginning of his reign; to do anything else would have compromised his already shaky position. Nor should we doubt the accuracy of Polybius’ information here as he took care to consult a number of sources and to expand upon the duty of the historian to recount events truthfully. Yet, while the events described may be historical, we must still be wary when assessing the validity of this image, the literary manipulations used, and the interpretation it produces. As McGing recently demonstrated, Polybius manipulated his narrative to emphasize Philip’s early potential, partly by delaying the entrance of his advisers to make it appear as if the young king were in complete control from the very start, but also partly by showing that Philip countered the expectations of other Greek states (notably Sparta and Aetolia) which thought him too young to rule effectively.⁴³ Taking a similar angle, the previous chapter demonstrated that the events at Thermum and Messene were carefully designed to form a two-part assessment of Philip, Aratus, and Demetrius, ultimately making the events at Messene the crucial turning point in Philip’s conduct from king to tyrant and the transition of influence from the Achaean to the Illyrian. This whole period before 215  will therefore be affected by this later arc of Philip’s decline as Polybius attempts to portray the king in his early years in an exceptional light and make his change all the more startling.

⁴² Philip does not appear in what survives of Book 6 of Polybius’ Histories, which is primarily an account of the Roman constitution. Polybius concludes the Social War and the peace of Naupactus near the end of Book 5 (5.105). Between Naupactus and the end of this book (5.111), which finishes at the close of 116, Philip makes a sortie against Scerdilaidas and rashly aborts a naval expedition into Illyrian waters for fear of a Roman attack. We hear nothing of his interactions or relationship with his Greek allies during this period. ⁴³ See McGing (2013) 181–99.

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Part 2: Philip’s Treatment of His Allies After Messene (215‒196 ) It is after the attempt on Messene and the ensuing massacre in 215 that Polybius proclaims Philip began to change for the worse (διὰ τὸ ταύτην τὴν ἀρχὴν γενέσθαι τῆς εἰς τοὔμπαλιν μεταβολῆς αὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς ἐπὶ χεῖρον ὁρμῆς καὶ μεταθέσεως; 7.11.1).⁴⁴ Yet, Polybius does not explicitly state at this juncture what bad qualities Philip came to exhibit and we must infer these from other passages in the Histories. We might think back to 4.77.2‒3, Polybius’ first proper commentary on the king’s character and abilities after he puts a stop to Apelles’ machinations against the Achaeans in 218. Here Philip is said to have a quick intelligence, a retentive memory, great personal charm, the presence and authority of a king, and above all the ability and courage of a general (καὶ γὰρ ἀγχίνοια καὶ μνήμη καὶ χάρις ἐπῆν αὐτῷ διαφέρουσα, πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ἐπίφασις βασιλικὴ καὶ δύναμις, τὸ δὲ μέγιστον, πρᾶξις καὶ τόλμα πολεμική). In the next line, Polybius even suggests that Philip will lose all of these advantages in the subsequent years (4.77.4: καὶ τί δή ποτ’ ἦν τὸ ταῦτα πάντα καταγωνισάμενον), foreshadowing the statement above in book 7. Yet, if we are to take on board fully what Polybius says in Books 4 and 7 about Philip losing or reversing his good qualities, then after Messene the king would start to exhibit: a slow intelligence, forgetfulness, lack of charm, unkingly presence and authority, and incompetence and cowardice as a general. Such a situation, however, is clearly not the case, even in Polybius’ own narrative: Philip continued to exhibit considerable military prowess and courage, as well as quick intelligence and personal charm in the following years as we will see in the rest of this chapter, and the ‘unkingly’ nature of his conduct is, as we have seen earlier in this volume, debatable. If Polybius is therefore referring to the personal traits outlined in Book 4 turning to the opposite, then he is clearly either exaggerating or in error. It is perhaps more likely and relevant to this context, however, to interpret this statement as referring to Philip’s conduct towards others since these are the qualities which he is just about to summarize in 7.11.4‒9. It is worth repeating the relevant sections of the passage here for the sake of clarity: ὅτι μὲν οὖν αὐτῷ μετὰ τὸ παραλαβεῖν τὴν βασιλείαν τά τε κατὰ Θετταλίαν καὶ Μακεδονίαν καὶ συλλήβδην τὰ κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν ἀρχὴν οὕτως ὑπετέτακτο καὶ συνέκλινε ταῖς εὐνοίαις ὡς οὐδενὶ τῶν πρότερον βασιλέων . . . συνεχέστατα γὰρ αὐτοῦ περισπασθέντος ἐκ Μακεδονίας διὰ τὸν πρὸς Αἰτωλοὺς καὶ Λακεδαιμονίους πόλεμον, οὐχ οἷον ἐστασίασέ τι τῶν προειρημένων ἐθνῶν . . . τὴν δὲ Πελοποννησίων καὶ Βοιωτῶν, ἅμα δὲ τούτοις Ἠπειρωτῶν, Ἀκαρνάνων, . . . ὅσων

⁴⁴ For an earlier discussion of this change see also Golan (1995) 7–54.

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ἑκάστοις ἀγαθῶν ἐν βραχεῖ χρόνῳ παραίτιος ἐγένετο. καθόλου γε μήν . . . οἰκειότατ᾽ ἂν οἶμαι περὶ Φιλίππου τοῦτο ῥηθῆναι, διότι κοινός τις οἷον ἐρώμενος ἐγένετο τῶν Ἑλλήνων διὰ τὸ τῆς αἱρέσεως εὐεργετικόν. ἐκφανέστατον δὲ καὶ μέγιστον δεῖγμα περὶ τοῦ τί δύναται προαίρεσις καλοκἀγαθικὴ καὶ πίστις, τὸ πάντας Κρηταιεῖς συμφρονήσαντας καὶ τῆς αὐτῆς μετασχόντας συμμαχίας ἕνα προστάτην ἑλέσθαι τῆς νήσου Φίλιππον, καὶ ταῦτα συντελεσθῆναι χωρὶς ὅπλων καὶ κινδύνων . . . (7.11.4‒9) That after he succeeded to the kingship, Thessaly, Macedonia, and in short his own dominions were more submissive and inclined to him in their loyalties than to any king before him . . . For although he was very frequently called away from Macedonia owing to the war against the Aetolians and Lacedaemonians, not only did none of the aforementioned peoples cause disturbance . . . Nor can one overstate the benefits he conferred in a short space of time on each of the Peloponnesians and Boeotians, as well as the Epirotes and Acarnanians . . . Indeed, as a whole, if one may speak a bit more hyperbolically, I think it most apt to say this about Philip: that he was someone who became, as it were, a universal eromenos (darling)of the Greeks owing to his beneficent policy. A most conspicuous and striking proof of the power of his magnanimous and faithful policy is that all of the Cretans, uniting and entering into one confederation, chose Philip as president of the island, and this was done without call to arms or violence . . .

Philip is described as being able to inspire obedience and loyalty: he conferred benefits (ἀγαθά) on many of the Greeks (the exact number of allied peoples recorded by Polybius is unfortunately not complete) and had such a magnanimous and faithful policy (προαίρεσις καλοκἀγαθικὴ καὶ πίστις) that he was the most beloved of the Greeks and freely given the presidency of the Cretan League. This summary is supported by Polybius’ account of Philip’s earlier deeds and actions. Polybius is, therefore, claiming just before this passage at 7.11.1 that Philip reversed these qualities, implying that the king came to inspire disobedience and disloyalty, that he conferred no benefits on any of the Greeks, and that he therefore came to hold a self-seeking, petty, and unfaithful policy which would remove him from the love of the Greek people. This assertion is reinforced in a few other surviving passages of Polybius’ Histories, most notably in his critique of the pact between Philip and Antiochus III in 203  to divide up the territory of the infant Egyptian king (15.20), and in his account of the Macedonian king’s capture of Cius and Thasos, and Heracleides’ commission to ruin the Rhodian fleet (15.21‒4). In light of Polybius’ earlier shaping of his text and the image of Philip, however, this claim needs to be qualified. In doing so, some important questions must be asked: did the rest of Philip’s allies feel the change in relationship which Polybius

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claims the Achaean League did in 215 ? Does Philip actually treat his allies differently, and, if so, did he do so in a more treacherous way? What is more, if Philip turned to self-seeking, petty, and unfaithful behaviour, why did many of his allies remain loyal to him for so long, some keeping faith even up until the king’s defeat by the Romans in 197, long after his supposed turn for the worse? Only with a broader understanding of these concerns can we make any headway in identifying Polybius’ workings and uncover an alternative portrait of Philip. Yet, to advocate a complete reversal of attitude towards the king’s behaviour and claim that he was always magnanimous and faithful would be overzealous and just as misleading as Polybius’ own good-to-bad interpretation. The relationship between the king and his allies was never equal and Philip, even in his role as benefactor and hegemon, was primarily interested in what this position could do for himself and Macedon and he was not above exerting pressure to shape his allies’ choices. With this in mind, this chapter will question Polybius’ negative interpretation of the king in the years between 215 and 197, explore the extent to which it is informed by political and didactic concerns, and attempt to offer an alternative picture of the Macedonian king’s relationship with his allies. In our reassessment of Philip’s treatment of his Greek allies, we are also aided at this stage by Livy’s account which begins in 211  and without which we would only have a very narrow and incomplete picture of the king’s movements.⁴⁵ The Roman historian’s use of Polybius for the majority of Greek affairs from this period onwards enables us not only to reconstruct with a reasonable degree of likelihood portions of Polybius’ narrative, which becomes increasingly fragmentary from Book 5 onwards, but also to test the Greek historian’s assessment of the king. The previous section illustrated the benevolent and attentive behaviour of the king in dealing with his allies before 215 . It will now be appropriate to investigate whether this conduct really disappeared as Polybius says it did after this point.

215‒205 : To the End of the First Macedonian War After Messene Philip is known to be active in Illyria, Dardania, Dassaretia, and Thrace for the years 213‒212,⁴⁶ only coming back to Greece in 211  at the

⁴⁵ There is nothing relating to Philip in the surviving Polybian record for the years 213–210, 207–205, 203, 195–192, and 190–186. ⁴⁶ The events of 213 and 212 are unfortunately confused and indistinguishable chronologically in the meagre evidence. However, we know that in these years Philip overthrew Atintania (Livy 27.30.13; 29.12.13), Dassaretia (Plb. 8.38), the Parthini (Livy 29.12.3; 12.13) the Ardiaei (Livy 27.30.13), Dimale (Livy 29.12.3; 12.13), and Lissus (Plb. 8.13–14). For these years, see Walbank (1940) 80–8, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 398–403, and D’Agostini (2019) 145–7.

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beginning of the First Macedonian War. There is no literary evidence recording any requests for help from Greece, nor any mention of interactions between Philip and his Greek allies in these intervening years. The Peace of Naupactus and the end of the Social War seem to have brought about a temporary cessation of conflict. Livy then describes how the report of the Aetolians’ alliance with the Romans in 212  (Livy 26.24), which did not enhance Roman popularity in Greece, prompted Philip to pursue a change of strategy.⁴⁷ This Roman‒Aetolian alliance meant that the king could no longer concentrate on westward expansion as the coming war would centre its attention in Greece and on Philip’s allies. He was once again burdened with the essential task of defending his Greek allies and the price of neglect could be the loss of all his possessions and influence in Greece. Foreseeing the resurgence of war in Greece, the king heads out from Pella in 213 on a sudden incursion into Illyria, Pelagonia, and Dardania to curb dissent in these regions; his son Perseus is also stationed at Tempe with 4,000 men to prevent Aetolian incursions into Thessaly. Philip then invades Thrace and Maedica to subdue the tribes on the north-eastern border of his kingdom (26.25.1‒8). Despite his successes at Iamphorynna and the surrounding area, however, the king is compelled to give up his Thracian expedition early as the Aetolians, aware of his absence from Greece, attack Acarnania. Following Acarnanian appeals for aid, Philip immediately moves to prevent them from being overpowered. He only has to reach Dium, however, before the Aetolians, still unsupported by Roman forces, become aware of his approach and retreat (26.25.9‒17). This interruption of action in the north to protect a Greek ally clearly indicates that, despite his change in focus after Messene, Philip is no less willing to protect his allies, nor unaware of the necessity of doing so. Moreover, as D’Agostini has recently argued, it seems that in 212 he had also married Polycratia, an elite Argive woman once the wife of his philos Aratus the Younger, and thereby intended to demonstrate respect for and fortify his connection with the Achaean League, and specifically Argos and Sicyon, through marriage.⁴⁸ There is little evidence for the year 210, but it seems that Philip concentrated on establishing his communication routes south towards Euboea through the Pagasean Gulf with the capture of Echinus (Plb. 9.41), and presumably also Pteleum and Cremaste Larissa.⁴⁹ It is not until early in 209 that he is once again recorded supporting and protecting his allies. Livy briefly states that Philip responded to the Achaeans’ call for help against the simultaneous attacks of the Spartan Machanidas (now allied with Aetolia) by land, and the Aetolian general

⁴⁷ For the inscription of the Aetolian–Roman alliance, see IG IX 1² 2; for discussion see Klaffenbach (1954) 1–26; and Zanin (2017) 181–203. ⁴⁸ D’Agostini (2022) 52–3. ⁴⁹ For the events of 210–209, see Walbank (1940) 87–92; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 403–4; and Grainger (1999b) 322–30.

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Scopas by sea in the spring of 209.⁵⁰ While the king set out quickly he never made it to the Peloponnese but was confronted on the way by Aetolian forces at Lamia, achieving a decisive victory (Livy 27.29.9–30.2). Philip must have considered the threat to Chalcis from the approach of King Attalus of Pergamum at this point more serious than the threat facing Achaea, however, as he immediately sails to Euboea after this victory and installs a garrison to protect the city (27.30.7). It seems that the dangers in Achaea had already been mitigated as there is no mention of further difficulties. His focus on supporting his Greek allies continues throughout 209. After Euboea, Philip appears in the Peloponnese for a council of the Symmachy at Aegium in the summer of 209. Here, there is an attempt to negotiate peace with the Aetolians after their defeat at Lamia, but this proves unsuccessful as the arrival of Attalus at Aegina and the Romans at Naupactus encourages the Aetolians to continue the conflict. Philip dismisses the meeting and leaves 4,000 men in the Peloponnese in case of further Aetolian incursions (27.30.9–17). At the Nemean Games in July, the king then hears news that Publius Sulpicius Galba has attacked Sicyon and Corinth and quickly dispatches his cavalry in response; the Romans are driven back to their ships at Naupactus with considerable losses (27.31.1–3). Following the games, the king then sets out to recapture Dyme, which had been handed over to the Aetolians by the Eleans, although the venture ultimately proves unsuccessful because of Roman intervention (27.31–32.9). Further action in the Peloponnese is interrupted, however, as reports of unrest in Lychnidus, Dassaretia, and Dardania force Philip to return to Macedonia. Not forgetting his duty, however, he places a further 2,500 men in the Peloponnese under the command of Menippus and Polyphantas for the purpose of protecting his allies (27.32.9–11: cum Menippo et Polyphanta ducibus ad praesidium sociorum). Throughout 209, therefore, Philip was energetic in his attempts to help his Greek associates. He was quick to respond to calls, pre-empted enemy attacks, attempted to recover captured cities, and sent out Macedonian commanders and troops when he himself could not be personally present. Moreover, his relations with the Argives remained congenial as they appointed him president of the Heraean and Nemean Games for 209 (Livy 27.30.9).⁵¹ The account of this latter event is frustratingly fragmentary, yet it presents the first of Polybius’ surviving comments on Philip’s behaviour after Messene. The historian reports that at the games Philip wished to produce the impression that he was on the same level as ⁵⁰ Machanidas was regent of Sparta from c.211 and perhaps tutor of Pelops, son of Lycurgus. He continued the anti-Macedonian policy adopted earlier in the Social War and continued to cause problems for the Achaeans at this time. Sparta allied with Aetolia in the spring of 210 (Plb. 9.28–37; cf. Livy 34.32.1). For Machanidas, see Ehrenberg (1928) 142; cf. Cartledge (1989) 65–7. ⁵¹ The events related in this paragraph are unfortunately only supplied by Livy and they appear in a confused state in his text, primarily because he has merged many of the events in 209 with his account of the years 208/7. See Walbank (1940) 304–5 for a discussion concerning the chronological problems of these years in Livy and pp. 337–47 for his Table of Dates.

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the others present, lenient and popular, and thereby set aside his diadem and purple robes. Yet, this only aroused Achaean hostility, Polybius claims, because the more democratic the king’s clothes, the more monarchical his behaviour became. Philip is said to have acted with autocratic arrogance towards the Achaean leaders and seduced a number of women causing public scandal and offence (Plb. 10.26.1–6).⁵² While the passage is regrettably fragmentary, Livy’s and Plutarch’s accounts (which derive from Polybius’ and follow it closely) finish the picture by the addition of a story about the wife of Aratus the Younger, Polycratia, who was also carried off to Macedonia with the prospect of a royal marriage (Livy 27.30.8; cf. Plut. Arat. 51).⁵³ Polybius’ account then resumes and comments further on Philip’s character, claiming that none of the former kings possessed better qualities for sovereignty, nor worse ones for it, than Philip. His good traits were moreover natural to him, while his defects he acquired in old age (10.26.7–8). Yet, we must be cautious in using this incident for an assessment of the king’s relationship with his Greek allies as it most likely represents a hostile tradition derived from an Achaean, anti-Macedonian source (just like the report that Philip poisoned Aratus).⁵⁴ Philip’s rapid march against Galba at Sicyon and Corinth and his successful pursuit of the Romans back to their ships at Naupactus would have encouraged feelings of confidence among his allies rather than distrust. The report of Philip’s behaviour at Argos will not have helped the king’s reputation, but it is unlikely to have caused a significant decline in faith as a benefactor and military ally; the king was still active and effective in lending military support. Furthermore, it might seem strange that Polybius, who would normally respect such energy, efficiency, and daring in leaders,⁵⁵ concentrated on this more negative image of the king at Argos and undermined his achievements. Yet, regardless of its factual reliability, this hostile interpretation of the king at Argos presents another instance of Philip slighting the Achaean League and Polybius could not ignore the opportunity to use it to support his tyrannical interpretation of Philip after Messene. In doing so, Polybius is not falsifying information but drawing attention away from the king’s efforts to protect his Greek allies in the First Macedonian War. As at Thermum, Polybius plays down the practical aspects of the king’s behaviour in favour of drawing out a moral objection and thereby presses for a more negative interpretation of the king than might otherwise have emerged. ⁵² See Moreno Leoni (2019) 53–57 for discussion of Philip’s sexual violence towards women at this event, its connection with tyranny, and the rupture with his Achaean allies here. ⁵³ For Polycratia, Philip’s marriage to her in 212 , and the importance of this Macedonian–Argive marriage, see D’Agostini (2022) 45–64. ⁵⁴ See Walbank (1940) 91 and Walbank HCP II 230. ⁵⁵ See Eckstein (1995b) 28–40 for Polybius’ attitude towards praising personal acts of valour by generals even when highly dangerous. This is in contrast with the traditional view held by scholars that Polybius thought a general should be very concerned with his own safety. This latter perspective was taken from two passages within his Histories at 10.32–3 and 11.2.

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Nor does Philip’s attention waver from Greece and his allies after 209. At a meeting at Demetrias in 208 the Achaeans, Boeotians, Euboeans, Acarnanians, and Epirotes all implore the king for help, ever more concerned about the growing aggression of the Aetolians, Illyrians, and Spartans in the wake of Roman support.⁵⁶ Emboldened by the Roman and Pergamene fleets at Aegina, the Aetolians had taken Thermopylae with the intention of preventing the king from helping his southern allies. Moreover, Attalus and the Romans had ravaged the country around Peparethus, Macedonia was under threat from the invasions of the Illyrians and the Maedii, and Machanidas was once again threatening the Argive frontier (Plb. 10.41.1–5, Livy 28.5.1–10). Philip’s recognition of the situation and his corresponding actions in this difficult period even inspire the respect of Polybius (10.41.6–7) who praises the king for his great courage, vigour, and intelligence in dealing with the danger on all sides.⁵⁷ While Polybius’ may be faulted for exaggerating his negative interpretation of the king, he still holds true to his principle of observing the good and bad behaviour and actions of historical agents when they arise. Dismissing all the embassies, Philip promises each that he will do everything in his power to help them and turns his attention to a defensive strategy. Philip sends forces to protect Peparethus, dispatches his commander Polyphantas south to Phocis and Boeotia, Menippus east to Chalcis and Euboea, and marches with an army himself to Scotussa to try and catch the Aetolians in conference at Heraclea. Missing them, he leaves his forces in Scotussa and returns to Demetrias to prevent an Aetolian invasion of Macedonia (10.41.8–10.42.3; Livy 28.5.10–12). The use of fire-signals is also introduced to increase the speed of communications concerning his enemies’ whereabouts and actions (Plb. 10.42.7–8; Livy 28.5.16–17). Even under great stress with the prospect of an invasion of Macedonia, therefore, Philip still shows rationality, decisiveness, and consideration of his allies. Before the end of the First Macedonian War in 206/5, we hear of one more venture in support of the Achaeans: Philip’s assistance against the Spartan king Machanidas, who had marched into Elis during the Olympic Games in 208.⁵⁸ It seems the Achaeans had attempted to take control of the Olympic Games away from the Eleans following their successes in 209 and Machanidas had gone to the aid of Elis in 208 (Livy 28.7.15).⁵⁹ Philip, receiving the call for aid at Elatis, where he had met with Ptolemaic and Rhodian envoys calling for peace, immediately marches towards the trouble in Elis. When Philip reached Heraea, however, ⁵⁶ For the dire situation of Philip and his allies in 208 and the meeting at Demetrias, see Walbank (1940) 93–4; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 404–5; and Grainger (1999b) 326–30. ⁵⁷ See also Livy 28.5.9–10. Livy’s assessment of the king here is much briefer and less exemplary than Polybius’ evaluation. ⁵⁸ The Aetolians, unable to find further support in Rome, agree to peace with Philip in 206; the Romans although unhappy with the situation are unable to arouse the Aetolians back into action and reluctantly arrange their own peace with Philip in 205 (Livy 29.12). ⁵⁹ See Walbank (1940) 96–7 and 304.

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Machanidas retreated and fled back to Sparta (28.7.14‒17). The good relations between Philip and his allies at this point are reinforced by the joyful reception of his speech at the following Achaean Council at Aegium in 208 (Livy 28.8.6: laeti regem socii audierunt) and Philip subsequently receives six ships from the Achaeans as requested and 27 more from the Carthaginians at Corinth before landing at Erythrae and attacking Aetolia (28.8.7‒10).⁶⁰ Relations with his allies in the Peloponnese were still congenial enough therefore for Philip to justify the supply of forces.

The Expectations of the King and His Allies An example of Philip’s treatment of his Greek allies and his own expectations of them in return is evident in his dealings with the cities of Oreus, Chalcis (both on Euboea), and Opus (in Opuntian Locris) in 208.⁶¹ These Macedonian-allied cities were captured by King Attalus and Galba just before Philip’s pursuit of Machanidas in 208 but recovered shortly afterwards. The first to be taken was Oreus, betrayed by its resident commander, Plator (28.6.1‒7). After this easy victory, Galba sailed on to Chalcis, one of the ‘fetters of Greece’ and at this time occupied by the Macedonians (Menippus had been sent to protect the city a short while earlier; Plb. 10.42.2; Livy 28.5.11‒12) but met with a very different reaction.⁶² Not only was the harbour treacherous and the place fortified with a strong garrison, but the commanders and citizens also showed great loyalty and resilience; and the attempt was promptly aborted (28.6.9‒12). Philip, hearing news of the surrender of Oreus and the attempt on Chalcis via fire-signals, marched to Euboea to come to Chalcis’ aid. At about this time, the city of Opus on Locris was also captured and sacked by King Attalus. However, Philip’s swift approach drove off Attalus and his men who escaped by sea in disarray. The Macedonian king then arrived in Opus, angry to have missed his opportunity to capture Attalus, and upbraided the city for surrendering so willingly and not waiting for his arrival (28.7.4‒9). The journey to Chalcis was then delayed again by the more urgent need to help the Achaeans against Machanidas (see above), and his subsequent raid on Aetolia

⁶⁰ Livy is wrong in assigning Philip’s gift of Heraea, Triphylia, and Alipheira to the Achaeans to this year; they were not restored until 198  as an incentive for continued loyalty. See Livy 32.5.4, and Briscoe (1973) 174–5. ⁶¹ For Oreus, Chalcis, and Opus, see Walbank (1940) 94–5, 97; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 404; Grainger (1999b) 326–8. ⁶² See also Livy 32.37.1–4 for the same episode derived from Polybius. As regards the ‘fetters of Greece’, Polybius tells us that this was Philip’s own expression for the three cities of Chalcis, Demetrias, and Corinth, although it is unknown when he originally used it (18.11.5: πέδας Ἑλληνικάς; cf. Livy 32.37.4: compedes Graeciae; Plut. Arat. 16; Strabo 9.4.14). Macedonian control of the three cities imposed severely on Greek liberty. The occupation of Corinth allowed tight control of the Peloponnese by Macedonian forces, that of Chalcis and the rest of Euboea gave the means to dominate Locris, Boeotia, and Phocis, and that of Demetrias, Thessaly, Magnesia, and the entrance into Macedonia (18.11.5–7). Cf. Shipley (2018) 51 who suggests that the first use of the ‘fetters’ as an Antigonid chain of control was by Demetrius I Poliorcetes in 303.

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(28.7.10‒8.10). After his success against the Aetolians, Philip sailed from Crenchreai to Chalcis and, once there, praised the city’s loyalty and courage in the face of the enemy, urging them to remain his allies with the same resoluteness in the future. He concluded with the less-than-veiled threat that if they did not they would be treated like Oreus and Opus (28.8.11‒12). Finally, sailing onto Oreus, Philip entrusted the government and defence of the city to the leading citizens who had fled its capture rather than surrender to the Romans (28.8.13). The above episode illustrates Philip’s expectation that his allies should remain loyal and resilient for as long as possible in the face of enemy invasion. His rebuke of the Opuntians for their quick surrender implies that his aid would always be forthcoming, an expectation which Philip had almost always fulfilled thus far in Greece, as evident from this analysis. The consequence of a lack of resilience would be a heavy-handed and autocratic replacement of leading officials, demonstrated by Philip’s settlement of Oreus. Opus also may have suffered similar treatment as implied from Livy’s vague reference to affairs being settled (28.7.9: compositis circa Opuntem rebus). Although the stronger loyalty and resilience of Chalcis may be partly explained by the royal garrison stationed in the city, Philip’s praise and encouragement of the Chalcidians, regardless of this fact, would also have posed an excellent warning to this end. Therefore, as well as Philip’s consistent energy in keeping his allies safe, the inherent inequality in their relationship is also clearly demonstrated by this episode.⁶³ In order to keep their liberty and secure Philip’s superior military strength for their own protection, his allies must remain faithful to him even in moments of crisis and danger. Defection or betrayal of the king would produce a far worse outcome for the allies than it would for Philip if he were to betray them. This pressure is evident in the city of Oreus at a later date: in the summer of 200  the city was once again besieged by Roman and Pergamene forces. However, this time instead of surrendering as they had done in 208 the Oreans, partly influenced by the presence of a Macedonian garrison in the city, but also mindful of the king’s earlier rebuke, withstood the siege beyond the expectations of the enemy. It was only after exhausting the Macedonian garrison within and by penetrating one of the two citadels that King Attalus and the Romans forced the Oreans to surrender (Livy 31.46.11‒16). Philip, occupied by Aetolian, Athamanian, and Dardanian forces on the mainland during this summer, was unable for a second time to come to the city’s aid. The king could not meet the expectation which he himself had created in 208—he was not able to protect Oreus even when the city waited for his aid as instructed. As will soon become clear, the year 200 , which saw the start of the Second Macedonian War, marked

⁶³ See Billows (1995) 56–80 for the inequality inherent in relationships of benefaction. For a general overview of the expectations of military commanders (which would include Philip as commander-inchief of the Symmachy) see Chaniotis (2005) 31–6. For the importance of military success for kings see also Austin (1986) 450–66, Billows (1995) 24–55, and Chaniotis (2005) 57–77.

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the beginning of increasing difficulties for the king that would impact his effectiveness as an ally and protector. This failure to meet this essential requirement on his part would inevitably see the detachment of his Greek allies, either directly by force or indirectly through fear of Roman brutality. In 208, however, this tension in the relationship had not yet manifested in discontent and defection. For now, expectations were still being met and after his successes in the First Macedonian War Philip was very much the dominant power in Greece. A fragment of Polybius provides proof of this: in the year 207 we hear from a Rhodian speaker at Aetolia, seemingly unattached to either side and pleading for peace, asserting that Philip still had as his allies most of the Peloponnesians, the Boeotians, Euboeans, Phocians, Locrians, Thessalians, and Epirotes (11.5.4). All the original members of the Symmachy were still attached to Macedon, therefore, and this is surely a sign that the expectations of all parties had not been excessively strained and were, at least to some extent, still being met. From the narratives of both Polybius and Livy, therefore, it is shown that Philip was still very willing and energetic in protecting his allies up to the end of the First Macedonian War; he was fulfilling the expectations of those attached to him by protecting them as hegemon of the Symmachy. The events recorded in the narrative thus far undermine Polybius’ statement at 7.11 that Philip’s conduct towards others changed in all ways. While Philip may have begun to demonstrate a more highhanded approach towards his allies as suggested by the episode at the Nemean Games, as far as we can tell in regard to the protection of his allies, which of course also meant the protection of his own power and resources, there had been little change. The main difference between the earlier and later period is that the efforts needed to protect and appease the Achaean League were less frequent: this is not surprising since the focus of the war was no longer centred on the Peloponnese as was the case with the Social War, but on the whole of mainland Greece.

205‒200 : To the Start of the Second Macedonian War The end of the First Macedonian War in 205 allowed Philip to turn his attention away from mainland Greece and until 200, wary of the Roman presence in Illyria, he looked to the east—to the Thracian coast, the Aegean, and Asia Minor. In 204  Philip employed an Aetolian, Dicaearchus, to sail with twenty ships and engage in piracy targeting the rich cities of the Aegean to collect funds for a new Macedonian fleet, as well as to aid his Cretan allies in their war against Rhodes (begun in 205).⁶⁴ So successful were Dicaearchus’ ventures that the king was able ⁶⁴ Cf. Walbank (1940) 109–12 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 411. For this date and which cities were involved in the war, see Perlman (1999) 134–5. See Kleu (2015) 90–142 for Philip’s Aegean expedition. Cf. Erskine (2013b) 82–96 for Ptolemaic sea power in Polybius and its decline in these years.

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to start building his new fleet in the early months of 203. In the same year, Philip negotiated a ‘secret’ pact with Antiochus upon the accession of an infant Ptolemy V, which gave the kings the opportunity to dismantle and acquire Ptolemaic possessions in the Aegean without aggravating each other (Plb. 15.20; Livy 31.14‒15).⁶⁵ Soon after the agreement, in 201, Philip seizes the island of Samos and a number of Egyptian vessels. The Macedonian king’s acquisition of Lysimacheia, Chalcedon, Perinthus, Cius, and Sestus in 202 and 201 reveals his intention to extend Macedonian-controlled territory along the Thracian coast.⁶⁶ The evidence for Philip’s actions during this period, however, is particularly fragmentary and difficult. Livy reports little of note until his summary of the years 203‒201 in his narrative for 200 (31.14‒15); as the king was no longer as pertinent in Roman foreign policy after the First Macedonian War (205 ) Livy’s lack of attention is not all that surprising. What we have from Polybius is also generally lacking in context and at times difficult to piece together chronologically.⁶⁷ The surviving comments concerning Philip’s behaviour are on the whole negative: he is portrayed as particularly ruthless and uncaring towards the Greeks while pursuing ambitions of expansion. Of course, we cannot fully get away from the fact that the surviving excerpts distort the picture of the king by focusing on the negative aspects of the portrait. Modern readers therefore see an even graver image than Polybius would have originally intended. Yet, the surviving comments, along with the fact that we know Polybius was developing an image of serious decline and treachery in this second phase of Philip’s life from his explicit comments at Messene, suggest that Polybius was escalating his negative interpretation of the king. The first surviving Polybian fragment after the First Macedonian War, at 13.3, even begins with the historian explicitly claiming that Philip had become treacherous and now acted in a way which no one would say was befitting a king (ἐγένετο περὶ τὴν τοιαύτην κακοπραγμοσύνην, ἣν δὴ βασιλικὴν μὲν οὐδαμῶς οὐδεὶς ἂν εἶναι φήσειεν . . . ; 13.3.1). As we have already seen above, however, although there were reports of questionable behaviour the king’s supportive treatment of his allies had not

⁶⁵ See Errington (1971) 336–54 and Eckstein (2008) 121–80 and 181–229 for discussions of the pact between the kings and reactions to it in Mediterranean politics. ⁶⁶ Plb. 16.23.8–9 (Lysimacheia and Chalcedon), 18.2.4, 44.4 (Perinthus), 15.21–3 (Cius) and 16.29.3, 18.2.4 (Sestus). See Walbank (2002) 119–20. ⁶⁷ Note particularly the problems in establishing the chronology of Philip’s attacks on Chios, Lade, and Pergamum in 201 , as Polybius’ account of the events must be pieced together from a number of manuscripts. See e.g. Berthold (1975) 150–63; Thompson (1971) 615–20; and Walbank (1940) 118–23, 307–8, who argued for a Lade–Pergamum–Chios sequence. However, a consensus was reached advocating the order Lade–Chios–Pergamum instead for the following reasons: Attalus first engaged Philip at Chios, prompted by the Rhodian admiral (16.9.4), and the Pergamene king had not participated in the battle at Lade, and therefore Lade must have preceded Chios. Philip’s attack of Pergamum and his anger towards the city, otherwise entirely irrational, would suggest he was retaliating against Attalus’ decision to join the Rhodians in their war against him. Cf. Kleu (2015) 116–39.

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changed that much from the end of the Social War (217) to the end of the First Macedonian War (205), despite Polybius’ arguments for the king’s decline after 215. This puts the severity of Polybius’ depiction of the king into question. Even his opening statement at 13.3 (above) is tempered in the second clause of the sentence by a digression discussing the prevalence of treacherous behaviour among current leaders and a change in attitude from ancient times about what constituted noble behaviour in warfare: . . . ἀναγκαίαν δὲ βούλονται λέγειν ἔνιοι πρὸς τὸν πραγματικὸν τρόπον διὰ τὴν νῦν ἐπιπολάζουσαν κακοπραγμοσύνην. οἱ μὲν γὰρ ἀρχαῖοι πολύ τι τοῦ τοιούτου μέρους ἐκτὸς ἦσαν: τοσοῦτο γὰρ ἀπηλλοτρίωντο τοῦ κακομηχανεῖν περὶ τοὺς φίλους χάριν τοῦ τῷ τοιούτῳ συναύξειν τὰς σφετέρας δυναστείας, ὥστ᾽ οὐδὲ τοὺς πολεμίους ᾑροῦντο δι᾽ ἀπάτης νικᾶν, ὑπολαμβάνοντες οὐδὲν οὔτε λαμπρὸν οὐδὲ μὴν βέβαιον εἶναι τῶν κατορθωμάτων, ἐὰν μή τις ἐκ τοῦ προφανοῦς μαχόμενος ἡττήσῃ ταῖς ψυχαῖς τοὺς ἀντιταττομένους . . . νῦν δὲ καὶ φαύλου φασὶν εἶναι στρατηγοῦ τὸ προφανῶς τι πράττειν τῶν πολεμικῶν . . . ταῦτα μὲν οὖν εἰρήσθω πρὸς τὸν ἐπιπολάζοντα νῦν ὑπὲρ τὸ δέον ἐν τῇ κακοπραγμοσύνῃ ζῆλον περὶ τοὺς ἡγουμένους ἔν τε ταῖς πολιτικαῖς καὶ πολεμικαῖς οἰκονομίαις. (13.3) . . . some would say that it is necessary for practical politics because of the current prevalence of treachery. For the ancients were greatly lacking in any share of such behaviour: for they were so far from treacherous scheming with regard to their friends for the sake of increasing their own powerbases by such means, that they did not even choose to vanquish the enemy by trickery, assuming not one of their successes was either glorious or insecure unless one could weaken their adversaries in their spirits by fighting openly . . . But nowadays they say that it is the mark of a low grade general to conduct any operation of war openly . . . Therefore let these things be said in regard to the current prevailing rivalry beyond what is necessary among the leaders in the matter of double-dealing in public affairs and the management of war.

This passage reveals that some (ἔνιοι) of Polybius’ contemporaries viewed duplicity in warfare and public affairs as very much a necessity (ἀναγκαίαν; τὸ δέον) for success, contrasting the historian’s more traditional and conservative preference exhorting open and honest conduct. Polybius’ discourse on treachery extends throughout his Histories and is a major theme in a range of different contexts.⁶⁸ From these discussions Eckstein has concluded that Polybius was on the whole unwilling to accept double-dealing even on utilitarian grounds as a normal and reasonable part of political life; traditional aristocratic Greek society dictated, he notes, that honest interactions ⁶⁸ For example, Plb. 1.9; 2.47–52; 3.4; 4.30; 13.3; 14.5; 15.24; 18.8–12; 21.32c.1; 25.3.9–10; 30.4 and 30.27.

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with others were part of ‘the general ideology of honor’ and saw deceit as low and ignoble (ἀγεννής, 4.30.7).⁶⁹ In Polybius’ mind, the line between skilful political manipulation and blatant deceitfulness was sometimes narrow and ill defined, yet knowing the limits was crucial (cf. 22.19). In some of the cases of treachery documented by Polybius, negative practical consequences follow the perpetrators and Polybius uses these as warnings against such deceitful behaviour. The purpose of 13.3 was to draw out such a lesson by highlighting the deceitful behaviour of current leaders, which Polybius viewed as improper, for the benefit of his readers and to enforce the nobility of past attitudes and practices in comparison with present ones. This statement about the absence of deceitful behaviour in former warfare is untrue, but this does not stop Polybius from claiming this to be the case and from using Philip as a case study for the digression’s lesson.⁷⁰ It is, moreover, likely that Polybius’ overall depiction of the king is influenced and exaggerated by the desire to adhere to this lesson, and therefore rests on an unsubstantiated and inaccurate claim. The record of Philip’s behaviour in the Histories must be spun to emphasize his treachery, even if, as it seems, others did not necessarily see the king’s actions as particularly exceptional or abhorrent (for different Greek views of Philip’s behaviour see the next chapter). This means that Polybius’ condemnation of Philip reflects only a certain moral point of view, against which other opposing and perhaps more prevalent views could have existed, and which may have presented alternative histories more favourable to the Macedonian king. We are once again reminded of how much we are beholden to Polybius’ views on these matters in assessing the reign and conduct of this Macedonian king. After this digression asserting the nobler behaviour of past leaders, Polybius then returns to the narrative and the king, supporting his claims that Philip’s behaviour became treacherous by bringing in his intrigues against Rhodes in 204.⁷¹ However, as will be seen, this affair only supports Polybius’ claims of treachery when taken from a moral and Rhodian perspective. We in fact get a glimpse of Philip helping another ally, although this aid is once again ignored in favour of Polybius’ construction of Philip as a deceitful tyrant.

Philip, Rhodes, and Crete It is at the beginning of Book 13 that Polybius records Philip’s actions against Rhodes in 204 . He states that the king ordered Heracleides, a Tarentine in his service,⁷² to sabotage and destroy the Rhodian fleet while he himself sent ⁶⁹ See Eckstein (1995b) 84–117, especially 84–5 and 116–17. ⁷⁰ For the presence of deceit in former warfare, see van Wees (2004) 115–17, 134. ⁷¹ For the date see Walbank HCP II 20–1. ⁷² Heracleides, an architect originally from Tarentum, was entrusted with repairing the walls of the city (at the time in the hands of Hannibal) and accused of betraying the city to the Romans. He fled to the Roman camp but was soon suspected of secret negotiations with the Carthaginians, after which he fled Italy to Philip’s court. He quickly gained favour with the king, particularly through his successful burning of the Rhodian fleet (Plb. 13.4–5; Polyaen. 5.17.2; Livy 31.16, 33, 32.5). This is also possibly the

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envoys to Crete to try and encourage them to war with Rhodes (13.4). The Rhodians, who had become suspicious of Philip because of his (earlier) treachery in the Cretan War (διὰ τὴν περὶ τὰ Κρητικὰ κακοπραγμοσύνην; see below), suspected Heracleides of being his agent. Heracleides, coming before them, eventually persuaded the Rhodians that he had fled from Philip and that the king was very anxious that his designs should not be discovered (13.5). The Polybian passage trails off into an incomplete digression on truth and the inevitability of truth prevailing over falsehood and is unfortunately cut off before coming to the end of the Rhodian affair. The event can be completed, however, by the account of Polyaenus, which asserts that after Heracleides had gained credence at Rhodes by pretending to betray Philip’s intrigue with the Cretans, he had then waited for an opportunity and eventually set fire to the fleet, escaping in a boat (Polyaen. 5.17.2). Heracleides thus succeeds at his task and Philip’s plans are fulfilled. The details of Philip’s earlier treachery in Crete, for which we only have a brief mention by Polybius at 13.5, are probably those preserved by Diodorus at 28.1: ‘Philip, the king of the Macedonians, induced Dicaearchus of Aetolia, a bold man, to engage in piracy and gave him twenty ships. He ordered him to levy tribute on the islands and to support the Cretans in their war against the Rhodians. Obedient to these commands, Dicaearchus harried commercial shipping and by marauding raids exacted money from the islands.’⁷³ If the relevant details are recorded accurately,⁷⁴ what Polybius seems to be claiming is that part of Philip’s treachery was his support of the Cretans in their war (206‒203 ) against the Rhodians and his employment of Dicaearchus in piracy;⁷⁵ a commission which would have interfered with Rhodian maritime and commercial interests.⁷⁶ Yet, Polybius’ Heracleides mentioned in the letter of 209 (IG IX 1 78 = Syll. 552) granting ateleia to Abae in Phocis (ὑμῖν βουλόμενος χαρίζεσθαι γέγρα[φ]α τῶι Ἡρακλείδηι μὴ ἐνοχλεῖν ὑμᾶς). If so, he was already Philip’s commander in Phocis and joined him after arousing the suspicions of Hannibal and the Romans (13.4.6–8); this identification is, however, hypothetical and rejected by Schoch (1924) 729. Diodorus, most likely using lost evidence from Polybius, also claimed that it was as a result of Heracleides’ false and malicious accusations that Philip executed five of his leading philoi in 204 (Diod. 28.2), resulting in such resentment among his other philoi that he could not trust them to remain loyal in the wake of the Second Macedonian War. Philip was subsequently forced to arrest Heracleides in 199/8 (Livy 32.5; Diod. 28.9). ⁷³ Diod. 28.1: Ὃτι Φίλιππος ὁ τῶν Μακεδόνων Βασιλεύς Δικαίαρχον τόν Αἰτολόν, ἂνδρα τολμηρόν, πείσας πειρατεύειν ἒδωκεν αὐτῶι ναῦσ εἲκοσι. Προσέταξε δὲ τὰς μὲν νήσους φορολογεῖν, τοῖς δὲ Κρηςὶ π αραβοηθεῖν ἐν τῶι πρὸς Ῥοδίους πολέμωι. Οὗτος δὲ κατὰ τὰς ἐντολὰς τοὺς μὲν ἐμπόρους ἐλήιστευε, τὰς δ ὲ νήσους λεηλατῶν ἀργύριον εἰσεπράττετο. ⁷⁴ Polybius seems to have been one of Diodorus’ chief sources for Books 22–32. See Sacks (2014a) 33–54 and Eckstein (1995b) 225–29, 232, 268 n. 117. ⁷⁵ We hear that Dicaearchus was appointed leader of the Macedonian fleet and in charge of the whole task of attacking the Cyclades and Hellespontine cities later in Polybius’ Histories at 18.54.8–12: τοῦ στόλου παντὸς ἡγεμόνα καὶ τῆς ὅλης πράξεως προστάτην. For Dicaearchus and the Aegean, see Kleu (2015) 90–3, 189–94. ⁷⁶ See Perlman (1999) 134 for the overlap of Cretan and Rhodian maritime interests in the north and south corridor from Cnossus to Mesara on the southern coast and eastern part of Crete. See also Gabrielsen (2001) for the fine line between trade and piracy in the Aegean.

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claim that this conduct was treacherous (τὴν . . . κακοπραγμοσύνην) seems odd in light of the fact that Philip was prostates of the Cretan League and by holding such a position would be expected to help his allies in their war. His support of the Achaean League as hegemon of the Symmachy in their war against Aetolia in 220‒217 was after all deemed respectable and kingly behaviour (Plb. 4.77.1, 82.1, 7.11; cf. 4.1.c). It is unlikely therefore that the Cretans would have considered the king’s behaviour towards them as either treacherous or neglectful. The Cretans had been attached to Philip from 220/19 , when the Polyrrhenians, Ceretae, Lappae, Horioi, and the Arcadian Cretans were received into the Symmachy and sent aid against Cnossus, an ally of Aetolia (Plb. 4.53‒5). Within a short space of time, as a result of the help received from Philip and the Symmachy in 220/219, the Cretan cities of Eleutherna, Cydonia, and Aptera had joined the coalition against Cnossus, the king’s influence was increased on the island, and the Symmachy received 500 men from Polyrrhenia as gratitude to counter the 1,000 men sent to Aetolia by the Cnossians (4.55.5, cf. 4.61.2). The war in Crete thereafter went in favour of Philip’s allies (cf. 7.11.9) and no evidence supports the hypothesis that there was any ill-feeling towards the king. Later in the First Cretan War (206‒203 ),⁷⁷ Philip once again supports his allies against their enemy, and we must be cautious in accepting the negative depiction of the king at 13.4‒5. So too must we be wary about accepting the ancient view voiced by Polybius and Diodorus that the Cretans were notorious pirates.⁷⁸ In 1999, Paula Perlman expressed surprise that scholarly opinion had unanimously accepted ‘the view that the depredations of Cretan pirates threatened trade in the eastern Aegean and so provoked Rhodes to declare war against the island . . .’, especially in light of historiographical considerations.⁷⁹ She noted that Diodorus used Polybius as his source for his account here and that the latter had probably utilized Rhodian sources, most importantly Zeno’s history.⁸⁰ Although the Achaean historian had criticized his Rhodian sources in his narrative (both Zeno and Antisthenes) it is ‘unlikely that Polybius, whose hatred of Cretans is evident throughout his history, would have scrutinized his Rhodian sources for an anti-Cretan bias’. Moreover, the Cretans had been marginalized and ethnically stereotyped from Homeric times as devious and underhand.⁸¹ This would undoubtedly have affected Polybius’ perspective and supported his stipulation that Philip’s behaviour was unacceptable in this period.

⁷⁷ See Berthold (1984) ch. 5 and Wiemer (2002) ch. 6 for this war. ⁷⁸ See Brulé (1978), Chaniotis (1999) 183, and De Souza (1999) 58 for Cretan piratical activity in the Hellenistic period. ⁷⁹ Perlman (1999) 133. ⁸⁰ This corresponds with Wiemer (2013) 279–306, who argues that Polybius made significant use of Zeno’s work. ⁸¹ See Perlman (1999) especially 134–9; see also De Souza (1999) 79.

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In the course of her study of Cretan maritime interests, Perlman establishes that legitimate trade, particularly with Egypt, was very important to the Cretan cities as it not only helped to supply private, but also public income in the form of harbour dues and transport taxes. She concludes that it was very much in Crete’s interest to suppress piracy.⁸² However, this could only mean the prevention of piratical raids on their own Cretan harbours as pirates also contributed to the revenue gained from harbour dues and customs by selling goods at the Cretan markets. De Souza points out that, ‘[e]ven where there was no legal or moral justification for piracy, or in cases where the booty was clearly illicit, the possibility of profiting through trade in “stolen goods” was enough to persuade some communities to cooperate closely with those recognised to be pirates’.⁸³ The presence of spoils (either from simple piratical raids or more complex schemes of warfare) and the exchange of legitimate goods within the Cretan economic system show the one-sidedness of the evidence.⁸⁴ The stereotyping of Cretans as pirates and the assumption that Cretan cities were entirely dependent on plunder is therefore far from accurate. It is very likely, however, as Perlman and Chaniotis have both suggested, that what caused the conflict between Crete and Rhodes, and would also have encouraged the designation of the former as pirates, is that Cretan maritime interests overlapped with Rhodian ones in Egypt and the west.⁸⁵ Although Chaniotis has demonstrated that the main forms of economic activity on the island during this period were farming and animal husbandry,⁸⁶ Crete was also heavily involved in trade.⁸⁷ It possessed a strategically advantageous position on the trade routes of the eastern Mediterranean and had thriving slave and luxury goods markets. These would have competed with similar centres of commerce also found on Rhodes and Delos as ships sailing west from the Aegean to Egypt and Italy inevitably put in at Cretan harbours.⁸⁸ On this basis, it has been reasonably argued by Perlman that the cause of the First Cretan War was a failed Rhodian attempt to discourage the Cretans from imposing harbour dues and

⁸² Perlman (1999) 132–61. See also Viviers (1999) 221–33 for the importance of customs in the Hellenistic period. ⁸³ De Souza (1999) 58. ⁸⁴ See Viviers (1999) 222 for the appearance of successive clauses concerning both spoils and the exchange of goods within treaties between Cretan cities when establishing custom-free trade. He mentions the treaty between Cnossus and Tylissus, probably under the patronage of Argos, the inscriptions for which are recorded in I. Cret. I, viii 4 (discovered in Argos) and I. Cret. I, xxx 1 (discovered in Tylissus). ⁸⁵ Perlman (1999) 132–61. This is also supported by Chaniotis (1999) 185. ⁸⁶ Chaniotis (1999) 182–86. See also Chaniotis (1995) 39–89 for the importance of transhumance on Crete. ⁸⁷ See also De Souza (1999) 59–60 who, discussing the economic activities of the island, particularly the unexpectedly prosperous small city of Phalasarna on the western side of Crete, argues legitimately for the unlikelihood that its wealth came solely or primarily from piratical activities; there is also plenty of evidence for agriculture, trade in stone, commercial links with nearby Polyrrhenia and later Eygpt, and a constant service of local mercenaries overseas. ⁸⁸ De Souza (1999) 58.

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transport taxes on her own ships and allies, which eventually prompted the declaration of war against Crete in 205/4. To their enemies Cretan maritime aggression would always be piratical. Yet this is only one point of view. De Souza illustrated the complex nature of piracy in the eastern Mediterranean and the importance of perspective in designating acts of plunder as either simple piratical activity or as part of a more complex scheme of warfare.⁸⁹ At one point, De Souza talks specifically about the activities of Dicaearchus commissioned by Philip. He states that ‘[t]o victims of his raids and his attacks on merchant shipping the answer would probably be yes, he was a pirate, as were the Cretans whom he was supposedly assisting. Yet if it is assumed that he was paid for his efforts, then he could be called a mercenary, and from his employer’s point of view he was collecting revenues and helping Philip V’s Cretan allies in their war with the Rhodians.’ He goes on to conclude that due to the scale of Dicaearchus’ operations and their political purpose it seems more appropriate to call them acts of warfare than piracy; however, the distinction is still a fine one and brings out just how closely related piracy and warfare were in this period, and indeed beyond.⁹⁰ If one takes the viewpoint of the Rhodian sources, the Cretans were devious pirates regardless of the validity of this image. Furthermore, Polybius’ positivity towards Rhodes would have been influenced at least partially by these same sources. The profuse praise of Rhodian bravery in their decision to confront Antiochus in 197 recorded by Livy (33.20), and derived from Polybius, was most likely acquired from Rhodian or pro-Rhodian material.⁹¹ The Rhodians have, moreover, survived in the historiographical record as defenders against piracy and protectors of the ‘freedom of the Greeks’ and merchant shipping (Plb. 18.41.a.1; Diod. 20.81.3).⁹² At times they had acted as neutral ambassadors promoting peace (in the Social War, 5.24.11 and 5.100.9‒11; in the First Macedonian War, Livy 27.30.1‒5, 28.7.14, Plb. 11.4.1) and had previously engaged in war against Byzantium when the city imposed heavy taxes on Pontic shipping (Plb. 4.45‒52).⁹³ Yet, we cannot view these actions as being completely selfless, as their own maritime interests and those of their allies and dependents would also have been affected and threatened in each of the above instances. Therefore, what makes Polybius’ depiction here so negative and consequently almost completely masks Philip’s support of his allies is that the events described are only viewed from a Rhodian perspective. The text is also fragmented and ⁸⁹ De Souza (1999) 80–2. ⁹⁰ De Souza (1999) 82. ⁹¹ Polybius claims that he used a number of sources for Philip’s actions in the eastern Aegean later in Book 16 (16.14.2). See p. 29 n. 10 for scholarship on Zeno and Antisthenes and their use by Polybius. ⁹² See Berthold (1984) 98, Gabrielsen (1997) 90–1, 108–11De Souza (1999) 48–50, 86–92, Wiemer (2002) ch. 5 for discussions of the Rhodians’ determination to protect merchant shipping and suppress piracy. ⁹³ For Rhodians’ role as neutral ambassador see Berthold (1984) 94–8 (Byzantium), Ager (1991) 13–18, and Gabrielsen (1997) 48–50.

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lacking a large portion of its context so we cannot be entirely sure if Polybius did in fact mention the attitude and response of the Cretans to Philip in this event or not. However, considering the strong criticism at 13.4‒5, which describes Philip’s actions as an example of treachery, it seems likely that the Cretan view, if it had been included in his Histories at all, would not have been satisfactory to the historian. It would not suit the construction of his work as a didactic model nor his overall degenerating depiction of the king. As far as Polybius and his sources were concerned the Cretans were dishonest pirates and their depredations in the Aegean would have looked very much like the land raids committed by the Aetolians in mainland Greece. Of course, from Philip’s point of view his actions were not only implemented in support of his allies, but also in support of his own personal ambitions. Diodorus’ passage shows Dicaearchus carrying out Philip’s request to plunder in the Aegean and although it is not mentioned what this plunder would have been used for it is very likely that it financed the building of the king’s new fleet.⁹⁴ Not only were the Rhodians attacking a Macedonian ally in their war against Crete and piracy, but they were also interfering in Philip’s plans for expansion. To prevent further difficulties caused by Rhodian initiatives, Philip consequently sends Heracleides against the Rhodians directly, resulting in the burning of the city’s fleet. In assessing the historian’s picture of the Macedonian king, it is therefore important to note that Polybius’ Rhodian perspective nearly conceals the fact that Philip was helping an ally in his attack on Rhodes. The historian’s insistence that the Cretans were pirates could only have made the interpretation of Philip’s actions in 204‒203 worse, as it would appear that he was endorsing piracy through Dicaearchus and the Cretans in opposition to the legitimate trade of the Rhodians, a people who defended maritime commercial interests throughout the Aegean. Yet again, Polybius’ statement that Philip completely changed his conduct towards friends and allies in this period should be seen as specious, hidden under the Rhodian bias of the historian’s sources, his literary construction, as well as his Achaean perspective, which predetermined the king’s decline in character.

Cius and Prusias of Bithynia A similar minimizing of the king’s assistance of an ally also occurs at 15.22, when Polybius censures Philip’s capture of Cius in 202 .⁹⁵ At 15.21.1 we learn that the city of Cius, allied to the Aetolians (cf. 15.23.7‒9), is in the middle of civil ⁹⁴ Philip had built up the Macedonian fleet in 217 while targeting the Illyrian coastline. In 214, after conveying troops to Oricum in 120 lembi, Laevinus trapped the king at the river Aous and he was forced to burn his fleet and retreat over land. See Walbank (1940) 75–6; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 396 and Walbank (2002) 119–20. ⁹⁵ See also Plb. 18.3.12, 4.7, and Livy 32.33.16, 34.6 where the capture of the city is listed at the Peace of Nicaea as one of Philip’s transgressions against the Aetolians. Cf. Strabo 12.4.3.

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disruption: a certain man called Molpagoras of Cius had incited the masses against the wealthier citizens resulting in the murder of some and banishment of others, and the confiscation and distribution of their property among the people. After this disruption, Polybius records that Molpagoras soon attained monarchic power (μοναρχικὴν ἐξουσίαν). There is then a digression explaining how the disasters and misfortunes of the Cian people owed more to their own stupidity and misgovernment than to chance or the unjust conduct of their neighbours (15.21.2‒8). The passage is unfortunately incomplete and exactly how Philip captured the city is unknown. However, in the next passage at 15.22.1 we hear that Philip has become master of Cius and was highly elated thinking he had performed a good and noble deed (καλήν τινα καὶ σεμνὴν πρᾶξιν): not only had he readily come to the aid of his kinsman, King Prusias of Bithynia, who was assaulting the city, and captured and gifted it to him (cf. 15.23.5‒10),⁹⁶ but Philip had also conquered those who came against him and justifiably (ἐκ τοῦ δικαίου) enriched himself with prisoners and money. As we saw at Thermum, the historian disagrees with Philip’s point of view and instead illustrates the fault of this way of thinking. The king is criticized for not seeing the opposite perspective and draws it out in four points. First, he was assisting a kinsman who was doing wrong to others by his treachery; secondly, by assaulting a Greek city without just cause Philip was confirming reports about his cruelty towards friends and earning a reputation for impiety; thirdly, he had offended the envoys who had come to plead for the safety of the endangered Cians and forced them to witness the city’s capture; and fourthly, the king had infuriated the Rhodians to such an extent that they would no longer hear anything good about him (15.22.2‒5). The last point is expanded in the following passage. While Philip was at Cius, Polybius reports his ambassador was at Rhodes proclaiming Philip’s magnanimity and declaring that although the king was master of Cius he planned on conceding its safety to the wishes of the people and to refute the slander of his enemies, establishing the honesty of his intentions in their eyes. Yet, at that moment another man entered the Prytaneum and brought the news of the Cians’ enslavement and Philip’s cruel treatment of them (15.23.1‒4). Polybius then exclaims that by this act Philip had betrayed himself just as badly as he had the Cians; so blinded and misguided was his understanding of right and wrong that he had given himself credit for and even boasted of these actions as good deeds, instead of more appropriately being ashamed of them. Moreover, Prusias, although he was pleased that his purpose in taking Cius had been accomplished, received the city after the enslavement of its population and was allegedly dissatisfied in having possession of a deserted site (15.23.5‒10). ⁹⁶ Prusias is counted as one of Philip’s allies in 205 by Livy 29.12.14. Cf. Walbank (1940) 115 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 412–13. See Jones (1999) for the importance of kinship ties and diplomacy in the ancient world, and especially ch. 5 for the link between cities, leagues, and kings.

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This is the end of the surviving section recording Philip’s actions at Cius and Polybius’ bitter critique of him. The criticism seems very similar to the moral concerns voiced by Polybius at Thermum and Messene, which draw attention to the repercussions of the king’s impiety, contravention of the laws of war, and instigation of the massacre at Messene on his reputation not only among his allies but also among his enemies, the Aetolians. Once again, Polybius wanted Philip to adhere to behaviour befitting a generous and selfless king and not take advantage of the shifting power relations at Cius. As before, however, Polybius’ arguments censuring Philip’s behaviour at these two incidents do not hold up in their concentration on moral rather than practical concerns, as well as their focus on Achaean rather than Macedonian advantage. Undoubtedly, Philip was ruthless and not adverse to morally questionable acts when profitable; however, Polybius’ claim that Philip had become treacherous and ruthless towards his friends and allies after 215  is yet again shown to be exaggerated. This episode at Cius gives a further example of Philip helping out an ally, his kinsman Prusias, in the capture of a city which was also attached to Aetolia, the Macedonian king’s old enemy. Τhis act therefore is similar and consistent in its purpose with the king’s earlier raid on Thermum. The enslavement of the Cians would have brought substantial monetary profit to Philip in his own ventures in the Aegean and therefore have been conducted partly for his own benefit. However, the fact that the king later handed the city over to his kinsman Prusias still shows that he was attentive to the needs of his allies in 202 .

Aetolian Territory and Thasos (202 ) At the end of Polybius’ account of the capture of Cius above he claims that now not only did the Rhodians consider Philip their enemy, but the Aetolians did the same. For although the king had only recently made terms with them at the end of the First Macedonian War (205 ) and no excuse for a breach of this peace had arisen, Philip had appropriated the cities of Lysimacheia, Chalcedon, and now Cius, all allied to Aetolia, seemly without any just cause and installing Macedonian commanders (15.23.7‒9).⁹⁷ In recording these details, Polybius seems to imply that Philip’s seizure of Aetolian-allied cities was particularly treacherous because of their earlier peace settlement and that his seizure of the cities was unacceptable. Yet, what should be noted is that the Aetolians only held a peace treaty with Philip and not an alliance (ἄρτι γὰρ διαλελυμένος, Polybius 15.23.8; see also Livy 29.12.1, condicionibus ad petendam et paciscendam subegit pacem).⁹⁸ The latter, formed for mutual benefit between two or more states, imposed offensive and/or defensive obligations on the involved parties and often compelled them to keep ⁹⁷ Cf. Walbank (1940) 114, and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 412–13. ⁹⁸ Grainger (1999b) 349–51 also notes that, despite claims at 18.3.11, these cities were not actually members of the Aetolian League, only allies of it.

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the same friends and enemies.⁹⁹ This is certainly the case with the Symmachy. Peace treaties, however, even from the Classical period, were frequently only viewed as temporary agreements for the cessation of war and were often broken when deemed advantageous by either side.¹⁰⁰ Peter Rhodes pointed out that ‘to some extent a treaty meant what its participants wanted it to mean; it was broken if they chose to think so and it was not broken if they chose to think not’;¹⁰¹ a perception which partially explains Philip’s actions against Aetolia and Rhodes at this juncture. Philip’s capture of Lysimacheia, Chalcedon, and Cius were bids to put the Thracian and Propontis coastal area under Macedonian control, a plan which would allow access to Asia Minor and the important trade routes there. For Philip, the practical advantages of taking these three cities would have outweighed the repercussions of violating the peace treaty with Aetolia. Furthermore, the Aetolians had sued for peace in 206 after a decline in Roman support in the First Macedonian War, Philip’s second assault on Thermum, and the death of Machanidas, and had ignored Roman attempts to restart the war in the following year (Livy 29.12.1). They were evidently too exhausted to continue. This still seems to be the case in 202 as they were unable to retaliate effectively against the seizure of the three cities, and merely sent an embassy to Rome in complaint. Therefore, Philip did not betray an ally by the acquisition of Lysimacheia, Chalcedon, and Cius, but a long-term intermittent enemy temporarily at peace by agreement and too weak to defend its possessions. Philip’s capture of Thasos in the same year does, however, show the king acting treacherously as Polybius asserts. Yet the city’s independent status must be kept in mind when assessing the severity of the king’s deception and how it would have been perceived. Unfortunately, our knowledge of what happened at Thasos remains incomplete as Polybius’ account is once again fragmentary and no account of the event is recorded in Livy’s work.¹⁰² Enough remains, however, to understand that the city was willing to extend philia ‘friendship’ towards the king (φιλίαν οὖσαν) and had willingly surrendered to Philip following promises that they could remain without a garrison, be exempt from tribute and billeting, and be governed by their own laws (εἰ διατηρήσοι αὐτοὺς ἀφρουρήτους, ἀφορολογήτους, ἀνεπισταθμεύτους, νόμοις χρῆσθαι τοῖς ἰδίοις . . . ). Freely admitted into the city on these terms, Philip then seizes Thasos and enslaves the inhabitants (προσέσχε περὶ μέσον ἡμέρας πρὸς τὴν τῶν Θασίων πόλιν, καὶ ταύτην φιλίαν οὖσαν ἐξηνδραποδίσατο; 15.24.1‒3).

⁹⁹ Adcock & Mosley (1975) 189–95. ¹⁰⁰ Rhodes (2007) 6–27. See also Chaniotis (2005) 71–2 for the Hellenistic Greek perception that ‘peace’ was a temporary break between wars, and Adcock & Mosley (1975) 132, 136–7, 194, 204, and Low (2012) 118–34 for a similar understanding during the Classical period. ¹⁰¹ Rhodes (2007) 11. ¹⁰² Thasos’ capture in 201 is not recorded by Livy; however, he notes that Philip still possessed the city in 196  as it was one of the cities which he was forced to relinquish after Cynoscephalae (33.30.3).

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While there is little doubt that Philip deceived the people of Thasos, we cannot claim that this behaviour was typical treatment of an ally as Thasos was an independent state and seemingly unattached to the king.¹⁰³ Its position off the coast opposite Macedonia and Thrace would have offered a valuable link for Philip’s ambitions of expansion eastwards and the selling of its inhabitants, like those of Cius, would have eased the financial burden of his fleet. Part of Philip’s plan for expansion after the pact with Antiochus in 203 , Thasos was also not the only island of the Cyclades to be seized, as Livy states that Andros, Cythnus, and Paros were taken as well (31.15.8, 31.4).¹⁰⁴ Therefore, we cannot categorize this incident of treachery as part of Philip’s general treatment of his allies, but only as an instance that shows the ruthlessness of the king in pursuit of his own interests.

Philip and Acarnania Before the outbreak of the Second Macedonian War there is one last episode where we clearly see Philip helping his allies as quickly as he can. In the early winter of 201/200,¹⁰⁵ the king sends help to the Acarnanians in response to their plea for aid after the execution of two of their people following an unintentional violation of the Eleusinian Mysteries in the autumn of 201 (Livy 31.14.7‒11).¹⁰⁶ Although Philip received their pleas for help while still held up by Pergamene and Rhodian naval forces in Bargylia, he responds quickly by sending them Macedonian aid and permits them to attack Athens (id tam foede atque hostiliter factum gens Acarnanum ad Philippum detulit impetravitque ab eo ut datis Macedonum auxiliis bellum se inferre Atheniensibus pateretur; Livy 31.14.9). The conflict between Philip and the Athenians, which was started by the help he gave to the Acarnanians, would result in the latter’s increased enthusiasm for open war against the king under the instigation of Attalus of Pergamum, Rhodes, and Rome a few months later (Livy 31.15.4‒5). Once again Polybius’ assertion that Philip was particularly treacherous and ruthless after 215 must be tempered. In investigating the period between the First and Second Macedonian Wars, our awareness of the interactions between the king and those allied to him is once again hindered by the fragmentary nature of Polybius and the highly compressed one of Livy.¹⁰⁷ However, the theme of Philip’s treachery, so emphasized by ¹⁰³ Walbank (1940) 115, 117 asserts that the Cyclades were at this time independent although officially under the protection of Rhodes. Cf. Hammond & Walbank (1988) 413. ¹⁰⁴ Cf. Walbank (1940) 117. ¹⁰⁵ Briscoe (1973) 42–5 argues for this date against Walbank (1940) 312 and McDonald & Walbank (1937) 187, who argued that the Acarnanian raid on Athens occurred in the spring of 200 after Philip’s return from Bargylia. ¹⁰⁶ Briscoe (1973) 94–7 argues that verbal correspondences (at 14.6, 7, 10–12) indicate Polybius was Livy’s basic source for 31.14, although his text is distorted by the deletion of all references to Roman ambassadors. The summary is argued to be Livy’s own take on events. For these events, see also Walbank (1940) 129–30, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 417–18, and Habicht (1997) 196–8. ¹⁰⁷ For Livy’s account of the Second Macedonian War, see especially Warrior (1996).

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Polybius, has been preserved and is particularly clear. Yet, despite this, we must still be cautious of exaggeration, one-sidedness, unrealistic expectations, and Polybius’ intention to put Philip in the position of a cautionary example for his readers. The escalation in unkingly behaviour is emphasized by the historian in preparation for Philip’s downfall and defeat in 197 , an event which he claims Fortune manufactured to punish the king for his past bad behaviour. It is also used to support the historian’s defence of the Achaean League’s decision to abandon their alliance with the king at a crucial moment in 198. By depicting Philip as an evil tyrant, ruthless to all the Greeks and a traitor of Greek unity against the western invaders, the Achaean League’s defection would not be viewed so critically, and Rome’s takeover would not seem so unbelievable, unjust, or disastrous (see Chapter 4 for more discussion). This development in the narrative is the focus of the next section.

200‒196 : To the End of the Second Macedonian War This next discussion of Philip’s treatment of his allies must be based more heavily on Livy’s account than Polybius’ since the Histories get progressively fragmented. Because of this, we cannot, unfortunately, say anything concrete about Polybius’ narrative development over these four years. We can, however, investigate what happened in the Second Macedonian War and whether the model that Polybius has been constructing of the king is supported by it. Thankfully, Livy resumes a fuller narrative of Philip’s actions from 200 as Rome is once more engaged in war with the king and we may assume, moreover, that a significant portion of his work is based on the Greek historian’s. The record of Philip’s interactions with and support of his Greek allies in these years is rather meagre due to the concentration on the war; calls for aid and interventions in city politics are no longer evident in the literature, although it would be remiss to say they did not happen at all. Certain allies of the Symmachy, for example the Acarnanians, Boeotians, Epirotes, Phocians, and Locrians, appear little in the narrative, despite a number keeping faith with the king until the very end. Nor do we know if they played much of a role in the Second Macedonian War. Others, notably the Achaean League, are, as might be expected, far more prominent and conspicuous, and the interactions and growing tension between them and Philip are recorded in much greater detail. Philip’s support of the Acarnanians in the spring of 200 (see above) was the last example recorded in the literature of the king sending help to his allies when called. After this date, the king’s attentions are focused primarily on expanding Macedonian influence along the Thracian coastline, or on the war against Rome and her allies. The few surviving recorded interactions between Philip and his associates also reveal a growing strain as complaints continue against the king’s aggressive policies and his position is weakened by a sequence of unsuccessful

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conflicts against Roman forces in 199 and 198 .¹⁰⁸ This section demonstrates that despite these difficulties Philip still attempted to remain supportive of and responsive to the needs of his allies during this period, but was at times prevented from doing so by the war and even forced to commit actions considered more ruthless towards them in the face of Roman invasion than might generally be deemed acceptable.

Losing Territory and Faith Regarding loss of territory, the first incident of note occurs in the late autumn of 200 when the Romans capture Chalcis, one of the ‘fetters’ of Greece held by Philip (see above for its loyalty in 208 ). This came about when exiles from the city, driven out by the violence of Philip’s garrison, brought the news that the city could be taken without opposition. The Macedonians were spread throughout the country with no fear of a nearby enemy and the citizens, trusting in the garrison, were careless in the protection of their city. Gaius Claudius Centho, who had been sent to Athens by the consul Publius Sulpicius Galba, sailed to Chalcis (Livy 31.22.5‒8) and took the city easily, killing the commander, releasing the prisoners, and destroying statues of the king. Owing to the small size of the Roman force, however, they were compelled to leave Chalcis and to return to Piraeus to uphold the defence of Athens. If they had been able to hold the city both Chalcis and the Euripus Strait, the seaward gateway to Greece, would have been lost to Philip and brought the Romans a particularly propitious start to the war (31.23). Philip, meanwhile, was at Demetrias when he heard about the capture of Chalcis and although he made an attempt to recover the city, arrived too late to engage the enemy. He found Chalcis lying half in ruins, still smoking, and with only a few survivors to bury the dead (the Romans had treated the city even worse than Philip had in his high-handed rebuke of them). Crossing over the straits once again, he hurried through Boeotia to Athens, hoping to take the city by surprise as the Romans had Chalcis (31.24.1‒3). The Athenians, however, were aware of Philip’s approach and had prepared for his attack (31.24.5‒18).¹⁰⁹ The next day, having achieved little at Athens, the king moved to Eleusis in an attempt to capture the sanctuary and its surrounding countryside, but was again thwarted by the vigilance of the guard and news of reinforcements approaching from Piraeus. Frustrated, Philip decided to give up the endeavour and marched to Argos for the Achaean Council now in session (31.25.1‒2).¹¹⁰

¹⁰⁸ In 199, against Roman cavalry in Dassaretia (31.33), the battle of Ottolobus (31.35–8), and the battle of Banitza in defence of the pass of Eordea into Macedonia (31.39–40.6); in 198 , at the battle at the Aous River (32.9–12). ¹⁰⁹ For Athens in the Hellenistic period, see Habicht (1982) and (1997), and especially (1997) 194–204 for the war against Philip. ¹¹⁰ For these events, see Walbank (1940) 139–41.

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This episode demonstrates that Philip was still committed to protecting his Chalcidian allies despite his failure to get to the city in time. Nevertheless, it should be noted that his quick pursuit of revenge was probably executed more for the damage done to his own position and the great importance of Chalcis as one of the ‘fetters’ of Greece, than for a genuine concern for the Chalcidian people. Philip was apprehensive about his allies’ wellbeing only so far as they kept profiting and supporting himself. Furthermore, the rash attempt on Athens suggests feelings of frustration at the second attack on an allied city, similar to that in 208  when the king was away from the area and unable to protect his interests or confront the enemy. This second failure to protect Chalcis, as well as his unsuccessful assaults on Athens and Eleusis, would have done nothing for his reputation among his allies. Despite his best intentions, the repercussions of this failure would soon be felt. After the attempt on Eleusis, Philip surprised the Achaeans by appearing at Argos for the Achaean Council in 200 (Livy 31.25.2‒11).¹¹¹ The session was primarily concerned with the increased threat that Nabis of Sparta posed following the Achaean loss in military strength and efficiency incurred by the transference of command from Philopoemen to Cycliadas (31.25.2‒3). While they were debating the number of men to enlist from each city for the war, Philip attempted a deal and offered the Achaeans help against this danger in return for their own support. He wanted them to send him a force strong enough to hold Oreus, Chalcis, and Corinth in the war against Rome (31.25.4‒7). The Achaeans, however, were not deceived, understanding that Philip’s generous offer and promise of aid against the Spartans would mean the removal of Achaean forces from the Peloponnese and the engagement of the Achaean League in a war against Rome. In response to the king’s offer, Cycliadas, although a friend of the king, asserted that it was not permissible under Achaean law to vote on a subject other than that which the meeting was originally called. Following his answer, a decree was passed concerning the raising of an army against Nabis and the meeting was adjourned (31.25.8‒10). Philip was disappointed in this hope and called for a few volunteers before returning to Corinth and continuing his attack on Attica (31.25.11).¹¹² This attempt to encourage the Achaeans to join the war against Rome, recorded by Livy, is probably referred to in a small, one-sentence Polybian fragment ¹¹¹ The Achaean League had two types of meetings: the regular quarterly meetings, probably consisting of the Council alone, called σύνοδοι, and irregular meetings, which dealt with matters of war, alliances, or communications from the Roman senate, called σύγκλητοι. Until 188 σύνοδοι were regularly held at Aegium, but the σύγκλητοι could be held in various cities (see e.g. 32.19.5 at Sicyon). The meeting in question, held at Argos in 200, is a σύγκλητος discussing the threat of Nabis. See Briscoe (1973) 121–2. For the Achaean assemblies, see Larsen (1925) 75–105, 165–88; Aymard (1938a); Walbank HCP I 219–20; and Lehmann (1983) 237–61. ¹¹² For the Achaean refusal to help Philip, see Walbank (1940) 140; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 421 suggests the Achaeans were already thinking of joining Rome at this juncture.

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surviving from Book 16.¹¹³ Polybius claims that Philip, seeing that the Achaeans were cautious about going to war against Rome, earnestly tried in all manner of ways to lead them into a feeling of hatred towards the Romans (Plb. 16.38).¹¹⁴ In Livy’s account, however, we hear nothing of Philip’s attempts to rouse the Achaeans’ ill-will, only his attempt to negotiate a deal giving them aid against the Spartan threat in return for reinforcements. It seems Livy has condensed Polybius’ account of this incident. From the little that we have of Polybius’ version, Philip is shown to be far more desperate to ensure the support of the Achaean League against Rome; the League had, after all, been more difficult to deal with and to rely on in the recent past.¹¹⁵ While the Achaeans had shortly before sent an embassy to Rhodes imploring them to come to terms with Philip and put an end to the war, even this move to support their Macedonian ally would have been initiated with personal interests at the fore. The Achaean‒Macedonian relationship was becoming critically strained. The reasons for the Achaeans’ reluctance to go to war with Philip against Rome at this time were numerous and deeply embedded in Greek character. First, as De Sanctis argued, although Philip was initiating a war in support of his Acarnanian allies, and while the terms of the Symmachy required all of its members to come to the support of the others, this alliance had been grafted so long ago and during a war of such a different size and scope from the one on the horizon that it was deemed necessary to consider the present circumstances more carefully.¹¹⁶

¹¹³ Walbank HCP II 545 (cf. 25) discusses how this fragment could belong to the winter of 199/8 (Livy 32.5) or the autumn of 198 (Livy 32.19) but fits more neatly into 200 in Book 16. Although the fragment, surviving in the Suidas, would fit the context of Livy 31.28.6 (when Philip returns to Macedonia from Abydus and destroys Sciathus and Peparethus), this would place the fragment in Polybius Book 17. This is problematic, however, as the compiler of the Suidas took his Polybian excerpts from the Constantinian collection, and by the tenth century when it was compiled Book 17 seems to have already been lost as there are no other surviving quotations from it. See also Briscoe (1973) 121, who also agrees with Walbank and places the fragment in Book 16. ¹¹⁴ Plb. 16.38: ὁ δὲ Φίλιππος ὁρῶν τοὺς Ἀχαιοὺς εὐλαβῶς διακειμένους πρὸς τὸν κατὰ Ῥωμαίων πόλεμον, ἐσπούδαζε κατὰ πάντα τρόπον ἐμβιβάσαι αὐτοὺς εἰς ἀπέχθειαν. ¹¹⁵ They had refused to support the king financially in his attempt on Aetolia in 220 when the Macedonians had supported Eperatus, Aratus’ rival, for the position of strategos of the League. Aratus had also warned the king at Messene in 215 that he would lose the goodwill of his Achaean allies should he occupy the city with a Macedonian garrison. ¹¹⁶ De Sanctis (1923) 40–1. De Sanctis’ second point arguing that the Achaean League felt a repugnance towards going to war against Athens because this city represented the ‘capitale morale del mondo greco’, and because the League had taken the chief role in liberating it from Macedonian influence in 229, is not convincing. This description of the city is old-fashioned and Atheno-centric, and it is hard to tell whether Athens was still, or ever truly was considered, the moral capital of the Greek world, especially as it had kept a conspicuous neutrality for a number of years, avoiding international entanglements despite numerous wars waging around them (the war of Cleomenes (228–222), the Social War (220–217), and the First Macedonian War (212–205)). Moreover, after their liberation in 229, the Athenians had refused to join the Achaean League and help it in the war against Cleomenes, which ultimately forced the Achaeans to approach Macedon in 224. Finally, they had also angered the Achaeans by their overtures to Ptolemy III, who had recently transferred subsidies from Aratus to Cleomenes, and by their foundation of a cult of the Egyptian king in 224/23  (Plb. 5.106.6–8; Plut. Arat. 41.3). Cf. Habicht (1997) 173–95.

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Scherberich has persuasively argued that the Symmachy was in practice no longer active during the First and Second Macedonian Wars and that the members of the Symmachy would have considered the terms of the alliance (reaffirmed in 220) less relevant in 200.¹¹⁷ While some members of the Symmachy had called for Macedonian assistance in 208, not since the peace negotiations leading to the treaty of Naupactus in 217 had the Symmachy been brought together as a full body. Secondly, Rome’s intervention in the east and its recent victories against Hannibal and Carthage had revealed its immense power and maritime supremacy. Combined with the not insubstantial naval forces of Attalus and Rhodes, which could already counterbalance Philip’s fleet, and the added safety of shelter in the allied ports of Piraeus and Aegina, Rome would have few problems fighting Macedon at sea.¹¹⁸ The great risks to Philip’s allies, therefore, of being caught up in the king’s ruin and suffering under a powerful enemy were ones which could not be balanced out by the prospect of victory; the result of which would either uphold the status quo within Greece or, worse, increase Macedonian power. Thirdly, although Philip was still prepared to assist his Achaean allies in a time of crisis, there had also been a shift in dependency as the king was now more in need of his ally’s aid than they were of his. The Achaeans had not asked him for help against Nabis, a sign that Achaea was more confident and powerful than it once was and now endeavouring to seek out more independence and autonomy. The Achaean general, Philopoemen, had brought about substantial changes in Achaean military training, resulting in a stronger force far more capable of dealing with difficulties in the Peloponnese (Plb. 10.22.6‒24.7). This growing confidence in their own military strength would only have increased the bitterness the Achaeans felt at being attached to Philip and therefore in being hindered from following their own independent policies.¹¹⁹ Despite the moral obligations to support Philip in their alliance with him, the Achaeans were wise to the disadvantages of helping their benefactor—they would once again have a greater obligation to him for his help against Sparta, would have to spread their own forces even further making the Achaean military presence in the Peloponnese weaker and their dependence on the king stronger, and they would be involved in a war against a powerful foreign enemy who was allied to a number of other powerful Greek states. The king’s recent unsuccessful attempts against Rome and her allies must also have discouraged the Achaeans from offering their support.¹²⁰ Not only would ¹¹⁷ See Scherberich (2009) 157–76 for a discussion of the passivity and decline of the Symmachy between 217 and 197 , and Philip’s lack of interest in developing the alliance after Naupactus. ¹¹⁸ See e.g. the battles of Lade and Chios. For Macedonian sea power under the Antigonids, see Walbank (2002) 107–26. ¹¹⁹ De Sanctis (1923) 42. ¹²⁰ Cf. Scherberich (2009) 170–2. There is also a tradition surviving in Plutarch (Philop. 12.2), Pausanias (8.50.4), and Justin (29.4) claiming that Philip attempted to have Philopoemen killed, perhaps referring to around this time. It is possible that Polybius also included this information in one of the fragmentary parts of his Histories, as he was known to be close to this Achaean leader and

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they have refused to be involved in a war that Philip might lose and consequently put them in a bad position, but by staying detached at the present moment they could see which way the war went and make decisions accordingly. The Achaeans’ refusal to send aid to the Macedonian king in 200 is the first concrete indication that relations between Philip and his once close allies were starting to waver. Despite Polybius’ claims that there was ill-feeling towards Philip because of his treatment of the Greeks, the change in relations is more the result of a shift in dependence than the king’s behaviour. Although Philip had always given aid when needed, as the earlier narrative of Polybius suggests, the Achaeans were now abandoning their ally in a time of need; the interests of both parties no longer aligned and could not unite into a mutual dependency as they had once done when Philip first came to power. The decision not to help Philip in 200 and, as we see later, to abandon him in 198 would not have been considered the proper behaviour for a relationship based on long-term mutual respect and obligation, and it is likely the Achaeans were heavily criticized for their lack of fidelity (as indicated by Polybius’ defence of Aristaenus from the label of traitor for encouraging the Achaeans to defect to Rome; 18.13‒15).¹²¹ Nor was the Achaean refusal to help Philip in the war the only sign of the king’s weakness at this point. Galba had sent Lucius Apustius on a successful raid of the Macedonian frontier and easily captured the towns of Corrhaguss, Gerronius, Orgessus, Codrio, Cnidus, and burnt Antipatrea. As a result, several minor kings on the northern borders of Macedonia now joined the Romans—Pleuratus, son of Scerdilaidas, Amynander of Athamania, and Bato from the Dardanians (Livy 31.27). The wavering of ally loyalty probably continued into 199  as Rome and her allies encircled and threatened the Macedonian king on all sides.¹²² In the summer of 199, Philip was defeated by the Romans at the battle of Ottolobus and, although the king had defeated the enemy at Pluinna, the pass of Eordaea into Macedonia had been captured with a battle near Banitza. The regions of Orestis and Dassarettia were subsequently taken before the Roman consul ended the campaign and returned to Apollonia (31.35‒40.6). The Dardanians and the Illyrians had also caused trouble in Macedonia itself, although they had been successfully driven back by Philip’s commander Athenagoras (31.38.7).¹²³ At the same time, the Aetolians and Athamanians had finally decided to participate in the war on the side of Rome (31.40.7‒10), making an assault on Thessaly and destroying included similar rumours about Philip’s poisoning of Aratus in 212  (8.12). The veracity of this claim is impossible to determine, but even the suggestion of such an act would have caused further hostility in the Achaean League towards the Macedonian king. ¹²¹ Cf. Aymard (1940) 9–19; Musti (1978) 70–4; Eckstein (1987a) 140–62; and Thornton (2020b) 63–7 for this defence. ¹²² For the events of the Second Macedonian War in 199, see Walbank (1940) 142–8 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 422–3. ¹²³ The Dardanian and Illyrian attacks do not seem to have been considered serious threats as the king did not take immediate action against them; see Briscoe (1973) 143.

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Cercinium in Pelasgiotis, Chyretiae in Perrhaebia further north, while Malloia had surrendered. The attack on southern Macedonia was only prevented by Amynander’s desire to capture Gomphi to the south-west and close to the Athamanian border (Livy 31.41.1‒6). Yet 199 was not a total disaster for the king as Philip’s defensive strategy came off well: the Romans, despite their victories in the north, had not penetrated the heart of Macedonia; Philip’s commander Athenagoras had pushed back the Dardanian and Illyrian invasions; and Philip himself had frightened off the Aetolian‒Athamanian attack in Thessaly. In the last, Philip showed typical speed in falling upon the Aetolians near Pharcadon in the Eurupus valley and routed them with severe losses. Amynander, encamped a mile away, was forced to retreat and helped escort the surviving Aetolians back to Aetolia (Livy 31.41.7‒42.9). Philip had once again protected an ally from capture and destruction. Simultaneous with Philip’s dealings with the Aetolians and Amynander in Thessaly, a second assault of Oreus took place by land and sea, and the city was finally captured by Roman and Pergamene forces. The struggle was more difficult, however, than the last attempt on the city as the Macedonian defenders had not only increased in number, but also fought with greater spirit, keeping in mind the king’s reprimand of the earlier capture in 208. Eventually, however, the city’s garrison was worn down and a large part of the walls collapsed, after which Oreus surrendered and was given to Attalus (31.41.9‒16). The city controlled the Pagasean Gulf and the southern route through Euboea, and its loss was a severe blow to Philip’s position. The capture also posed another failure in 199 and, although the king was successful in driving off the Dardanians, Illyrians, Aetolians, and Athamanians, his losses would have caused further disquiet among his allies. Perhaps if Achaea had given her support to the king, Oreus would not have been captured and Philip, in spite of weathering the attacks in 199 with reasonable success, would have ended the year in a better position.

Philip’s Changing Behaviour and Desperation In the winter of 199/8, Philip is depicted as a man worried about the future. He is surrounded by the enemy, distrustful of his allies, particularly Achaea and Epirus, fearing they will revolt in the hope of an alliance with Rome (illi ad spem amicitiae Romanorum deficerent),¹²⁴ and even suspicious of his own subjects who might also be inspired to rebellion (Macedonas ipsos cupido novandi res caperet: Livy 32.5.1‒3). Philip decides to send ambassadors to Achaea to demand the annual oath of loyalty towards him,¹²⁵ and agrees to restore Orchomenus, Heraea, and Triphylia

¹²⁴ Briscoe (1973) 174. See also Oost (1954) 43–8. ¹²⁵ This oath is not mentioned anywhere else by Livy and is probably the same mentioned by Polybius at 4.9.4—ἔνορκος . . . ἡ . . . συμμαχία. Annually renewed, this confirmed Philip’s right to summon the Achaean assembly and the members of the Symmachy to meetings.

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to them and Alipheira to the Megalopolitans; a decision, which, Livy records, strengthens the alliance between the king and the Achaeans for a time (32.4‒6). Yet this resurgence of loyalty does not last long, not even the year, as the Achaeans become aggravated by the increasing strength of the Romans and her allies, illustrated ominously by Rome’s victory against the Macedonian king at the battle of the Aous Pass in the summer of 198, a clash in which the king initially possessed the advantage.¹²⁶ By this time, Philip’s treatment of his allies had also started to become more ruthless as he found himself and his power increasingly under threat. However, rather than supporting Polybius’ assertion that the king grew increasingly tyrannical in conduct, it in fact undermines the treacherous and self-seeking image which Philip is meant to be displaying in these later years. In his vigorous preparations for war in 200, the king had destroyed Sciathus and Peparethus, islands off the southern tip of Magnesia, to prevent them from falling into Roman hands (Livy 31.28.6, 45.12‒13).¹²⁷ It was readily acknowledged that the Macedonian fleet was no match for the combined forces of Rome, Attalus, and Rhodes as, although Heracleides was put in charge of the navy at Demetrias in 199, this fleet was positioned here to take advantage of any opportunities offered by the enemy’s negligence rather than openly confronting them (Livy 31.33.2, 46.8). Similarly, in 198, after Philip’s defeat by the Romans at the Aous Pass, he retreated through Thessaly and burned the allied towns.¹²⁸ Livy records at 32.13.6‒9: homines qui sequi possent sedibus excibat; oppida incendebat. rerum suarum quas possent ferendarum secum dominis ius fiebat, cetera militis praeda erat. nec, quod ab hoste crudelius pati possent, reliqui quicquam fuit, quam quae ab sociis patiebantur. haec etiam facienti Philippo acerba erant, sed e terra mox futura hostium corpora saltem eripere sociorum volebat. ita evastata oppida sunt Phacium, Iresiae, Euhydrium, Eretria, Palaepharsalus. He [Philip] summoned from their homes the men who could follow; the towns he burned. The owners were allowed to carry with them whatever possessions they could; the rest was booty for the soldier. There was no remaining hardship which they could have suffered more cruelly at the hands of an enemy than the things which they suffered at the hands of their allies. These actions were bitter to Philip even as he did them, but he wished to rescue at least the people of his allies from a land soon to belong to the enemy. So the towns of Phacium, Iresiae, Euhydrium, Eretria, and Palaepharsalus were laid waste.

¹²⁶ For this battle, see Walbank (1940) 148–53 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 424–6. ¹²⁷ Peparethus had been attacked by Attalus in 208 (Plb. 10.42; Livy 28.5) and seems to have been restored after the First Macedonian War (Syll.³ 587). See also Briscoe (1973) 129. ¹²⁸ For Philip’s operations in Thessaly, see Walbank (1940) 153–5 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 426–8.

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Philip is said to have found his own actions here harsh and bitter, but regardless felt compelled to commit them; he was trying to save the lives of his allies even if he could not save their homes. This reflects the horror and fear felt by the Greeks and Macedonians at the ruthless and unmerciful behaviour of the Romans, who were renowned for burning cities, and massacring and enslaving populations.¹²⁹ Nor was Philip wrong in his fears as soon after the king’s defeat Thessaly was raided by the Aetolians and Athamanians, and shortly afterwards the Romans captured and burned Phaloria, with many smaller cities surrendering in its wake (Livy 32.13.9‒15.3). In removing the Thessalians from harm’s way, therefore, Philip was, in part, attempting to preserve a Greek people, even if one closely attached to Macedon, from the depredations of western invaders. Despite the brutality inherent in destroying allied towns, Livy’s claim that Philip found the actions distasteful and was only doing what he had to through necessity, implies the reverse of what Polybius says about the king’s behaviour during this period. Interestingly, this discrepancy is also found in Polybius’ account. Philip’s aversion to his own actions in Thessaly is acknowledged in the surviving passages of the conference at Nicaea (Plb. 18.1‒6). In response to the Aetolian ambassador Alexander’s accusations claiming that he had treated his Thessalian allies like an enemy, Philip defends his position by saying that everything that he had done had been done through necessity: σαφῶς γὰρ πάντας γινώσκειν ὅτι τοὺς ἰδίους συμμάχους ἑκὼν μὲν οὐδεὶς διαφθείρει, κατὰ δὲ τὰς τῶν καιρῶν περιστάσεις πολλὰ ποιεῖν ἀναγκάζεσθαι τοὺς ἡγουμένους παρὰ τὰς ἑαυτῶν προαιρέσεις. (18.4.2) For everyone knows well that no one destroys their own allies willingly, but according to the circumstances of the particular occasions, leaders are forced to do many things contrary to their own principles.

It is also important to note, of course, that Philip’s concern for the lives of the Thessalian people was more in response to worries about population numbers and their ability to work the land and supply the king with troops. Such anxieties were also evident earlier, for example, in the king’s letters to the city of Larissa in

¹²⁹ Cf. Eckstein (2008) 281 and Harris (1979) 50–3 for Roman brutality and ferocity. See e.g. Anticyra in 211, Plb. 9.39; Phaloria in 198, Livy 32.15.2–3; Eretria, Livy 32.16.15–17; Carystus, Livy 32.17.1; and Elateia, Livy 32.24.6–7. For the brutality of Roman weaponry, see Livy 31.33, 45.5. Cf. Plb. 10.15 for the Roman sack of New Carthage. Interestingly, Livy does not include Philip’s defence of himself for the burning of Thessaly in the narrative, although Alexander’s vitriol against it is evident (Livy 32.33.14), and it is clear from the similarity of the texts that the Roman was using Polybius’ material. Instead, Livy moves quickly onto describing Phaineas’ rude interruption of the king and Philip’s tendency to jest even while conducting serious business (32.34.1–3). The Roman historian presumably omits Philip’s defence in an attempt to subvert the king’s reasoning and the necessity of such drastic measures in light of Roman brutality.

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Thessaly in 217 and 215 .¹³⁰ In these, Philip insists that the Larissans extend citizenship to the Greek metics in the area to remedy the harmful effects of depopulation caused by the Social War (220‒217 ). It is likely that the effects of this earlier depletion of population were still felt in 198, particularly as the First and Second Macedonian Wars (211‒205 ; 200‒196 ) would have reduced their numbers further. In taking the Thessalians with him, therefore, Philip was no doubt trying to save as many of them as possible and preserve the area not only from complete devastation from lack of use, but also from falling into enemy hands: should events turn out well for Philip, the people could be returned to support the Thessalian economy once again; if not, they could be relocated and still made use of by the Macedonian king. Furthermore, the evacuation and burning of towns in Thessaly prevented the enemy from gaining much needed supplies in the region; a tactic which soon proved successful as Livy records that the Romans were forced to delay pursuit of the king in order to bring provisions from their ships stationed in Ambracia to Gomphi, where they were encamped (Livy 32.15.5‒6).¹³¹ Therefore, while Philip’s actions were certainly ruthless in their treatment of an ally, they were also practical and informed by an awareness of the seriousness of the situation and in an attempt to alleviate potential damage to both himself and his allies. Following his defeat at the battle at the Aous Pass in 198 (Livy 32.6‒12), Philip’s situation gets worse. He is unable to send help to Eretria (32.16.10‒17), and the Romans soon capture Carystus in Euboea and the regions Phocis and Opuntian Locris on the mainland (32.17‒18, 24). With the allied Roman, Pergamene, and Rhodian fleet lying at Cenchreai, Corinth too was under threat (32.19.3). It is also in this year (198) that the Achaean League defects to the Romans and her allies, despite Philip’s attempts to exhort them either to stand with him or to remain neutral (32.19‒23; see below for a more detailed discussion of this event). While the main body of the Achaean League decides to defect, however, the individual cities of Corinth, Megalopolis, Dyme, and Argos refuse to accept this decision and walk out of the conference before the vote is called (32.22.8‒12). We hear nothing more in the literary sources regarding the fate of Megalopolis and Dyme and it is possible that they eventually decided to stay attached to the League. In the case of the others, however, Corinth remained under a strong Macedonian garrison until Philip’s defeat at Cynoscephalae (33.14‒15); Argos was treacherously taken by Nabis before the battle. This latter event is notable for the Macedonian king’s attempt to protect the city. Livy records that Philip, away from the region, is concerned for the two cities still loyal to Macedon left in the Peloponnese, Corinth and Argos, but more so for

¹³⁰ See p. 10 n. 27 for references and scholarship for Philip’s letters to Larissa. ¹³¹ The Romans had recently spared the fields in Epirus because of their defection to Rome (Livy 32.15.5–6); Walbank (1940) 156 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 426.

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the latter (32.38).¹³² He thinks it best therefore to give the city for its own protection to Nabis, the Spartan ruler, with the proviso that it be restored to him if he should be successful in the coming battle; if not, it would remain with Nabis.¹³³ The king then writes to Philocles to arrange a meeting with Nabis to settle the matter, also adding a pledge of future friendship and the marriage of his daughters to Nabis’ sons. Nabis at first refuses to accept the city on any other terms than an invitation proffered by the Argives themselves. However, after supposedly hearing curses against himself in the Argive assembly, he tells Philocles to deliver Argos to him. Nabis is introduced at night and quickly takes and plunders the city, proposing measures for the cancellation of debts and the redistribution of land to inflame the people against their pro-Macedonian leaders. Having taken Argos, Nabis then meets with the Roman commander Flamininus and with Attalus of Pergamum, telling them that the city is now in his power and that it would be possible for them to come to an agreement with him. In the course of the meeting, the Spartan agrees to supply auxiliaries to the Romans in the coming battle and to commit to an armistice with the Achaeans until the war against Philip is concluded (32.39). While this transaction is ultimately a failure, it can only be seen as an attempt by Philip to protect an ally. The protection of Argos proved difficult as it was situated in the middle of the Peloponnese, now largely hostile to Macedon. Yet, the city’s display of loyalty could not be ignored and Philip’s attempt to save it cannot therefore show a complete lack of concern for, nor treachery towards, his allies. Philip must have known that temporarily placing the city in the care of Nabis was a risky move. However, given the circumstances he had few other options open to him. The king would already have been aggrieved and disadvantaged by the loss of his allies in mainland Greece. The loss of the Achaean League, particularly, which would have meant the collapse of Macedonian control of the Peloponnese, the last strongholds being Corinth, which still possessed a Macedonian garrison, and Argos. Undoubtedly, he was feeling increasingly desperate about protecting those attached to him in whatever way he could, even if it meant taking risky action. This was the last of Philip’s actions concerning his allies before the battle of Cynoscephalae—this battle soon lost him all of his remaining possessions within mainland Greece, the Aegean, and Thrace. During the Second Macedonian War, it seems that the king still attempted to remain supportive and responsive to the needs of his allies. Yet, as the war progressed Philip became increasingly desperate, severely constrained by the successive defeats inflicted upon him by the Roman

¹³² Cf. Walbank (1940) 157–8. ¹³³ For Philip’s dealings with Nabis, see Walbank (1940) 163–6; Errington (1989b) 276; Shipley (2018) 84–5.

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forces and forced to commit ruthless and risky actions in the protection of his allies which would do little to help his reputation.

Part 3: The Loyalty and Defection of Philip’s Greek Allies There are numerous reasons for the defection of Macedon’s allies to Rome and, as indicated by the arguments of the previous sections, these cannot have been wholly dependent on Philip’s behaviour. Most of Philip’s allies were with him for the larger part of his reign, only switching their allegiance to Rome when compelled to in 198, and some refused to break from Macedon until Philip’s defeat at the battle of Cynoscephalae in 197 . Fear and necessity played a significant role in his allies’ decision to defect, and some were forced into it to a greater degree than others. The first of Philip’s allies to be lost were the Locrians, Phocians, and a large number of cities in Euboea, which were taken by Roman forces in 199 and 198 (see above); little more is said about these places by Livy than that they were captured. The brutality of Roman military action, first witnessed in 210‒207 in the First Macedonian War, was only reaffirmed by the devastation and seizure of these cities. Epirus was the first of Philip’s allies to defect to Rome in 198 and this move proved to be an important political moment for the Romans in their bid to separate the Macedonian king from his Greek allies on the mainland.¹³⁴ Livy records, in a very short passage, that while Thessaly was being attacked by three armies at once (Macedonian, Roman, and Aetolian/Athamanian) after the battle at the Aous river in 198 Flamininus marched into Epirus. Although the consul knew that the Epirotes were allied to Philip, after seeing their zealousness in carrying out his orders to please him, he chose to judge them by their present behaviour rather than their past. By his readiness to show mercy and protection from harm, he quickly won them over to the Roman cause (32.14.4‒6; cf. Plut. Flam. 5.1).¹³⁵ In his analysis of Flamininus’ conduct and strategy in Greece, Eckstein gives two reasons for the Roman general’s decision to turn south after Aous and protect Epirus from Roman raids: first, it was a political decision which aimed at winning over Greece and changing the Roman reputation for brutality amongst the Greeks (cf. Livy 31.33, 45.5; Paus. 7.8.2; App. Mac. 7); and secondly, turning south into Epirus would allow the Romans to approach Macedonia from the south-east. The expected fall of the Macedonian fortress of Gomphi, on the ¹³⁴ See Oost (1954) 48, Walbank (1940) 156, 319, Hammond & Walbank (1988) 426, Scherberich (2009) 172, and see also p. 171 for the Roman aim to weaken Philip by dissolving the Symmachy. ¹³⁵ See Eckstein (1976) 119–42, Ferrary (1988) 58–9 for Flamininus’ lenient policy in Epirus and the usual Roman practice of mixing diplomacy and military might in war. For this mixed policy and the Romans’ progressive use of the theme of liberty in their interactions with the Hellenistic world from the Second Macedonian War, see also Ferrary (1988) 45–132 and Dmitriev (2011) 145–200.

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border of Thessaly and Athamania, would connect with the Epirote border and allow new supply routes to open up for an operation against the eastern power.¹³⁶

The Achaean League Soon after followed the defection of the Achaean League, a moment which signified the end of the Symmachy. Although the Achaeans were not the first of Philip’s allies to change allegiances, as one of the most powerful confederations on the Greek mainland at the time their departure from the Macedonian alliance probably affected the attitude of many of the other allies. Unfortunately, the Achaean League’s decision to form an alliance with Rome is missing from the surviving Polybian material, as it was recorded in Book 17 of the Histories, now entirely lost. However, we once again have Livy’s account (32.19‒23) and the length and detail of this episode suggests a reasonably close adherence to Polybius’ undoubtedly very comprehensive description of the affair. Moreover, while we might suspect that some of the emotional content of this episode may originate from Livy, as he was particularly fond of describing the emotions and thoughts of the people he was writing about, Polybius’ Histories is not entirely absent of emotional distress either (note, for instance, his description of Philip’s turmoil in his last years at 23.10, and his vivid account of the Achaean War in Books 38 and 39). He would also have had access to Achaean eyewitness and written accounts of this event (he himself would have been a child at the time) and some of the information detailing public opinion and the emotional state of the people is highly likely to have derived from his narrative.¹³⁷ Regardless of Livy’s possible adaptations, however, the Achaean League’s change of alliance was an enormously important historical event not only for the League, but also for Philip and the rest of mainland Greece as well. It is representative of the pressures experienced by all the Greek states in the wake of Roman interference in the east and illustrates the great uncertainty felt at the changes occurring in the power structures of the Mediterranean. The Achaean question about whether to support Macedon, to remain neutral, or to defect to Rome had been undecided for two years. While perhaps Hammond goes too far in arguing that the Achaeans had already decided to join with Rome in 200 when Philip requested aid against Rome in exchange for help against Nabis, this incident illustrates more concretely the League’s growing detachment from the Macedonian king at the turn of the century.¹³⁸ The final decision to leave,

¹³⁶ See Eckstein (1976) 131–4. Cf. Ferrary (1988) 45–6 and Eckstein (2008) 281–2. ¹³⁷ For Livy’s description of emotions and thoughts, see Eckstein (1990) 55–7; and Pfeilschifter (2005) 187. ¹³⁸ Cf. Hammond & Walbank (1988) 421.

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however, was not brought to the vote until two years later at a meeting held at Sicyon in the autumn of 198.¹³⁹ The decision was a difficult one and Livy describes the Achaean state of mind as complicated and uncertain (erat autem non admodum simplex habitus inter Achaeos animorum, 32.19.6, and incertos, 32.19.10), concerned by the threat of Nabis, the horror of Roman arms, the ties of obligation binding them to the Macedonians, their suspicion of Philip’s cruelty and treachery, and their worry that he would become harsher after the war (32.19.6‒8).¹⁴⁰ Indecision stayed proceedings for three days and it was only after Aristaenus, the pro-Roman Achaean general of 199/8, addressed the assembly for a second time, appealing to the Achaeans’ sense of self-preservation, arguing for the futility of supporting Philip any longer, and reminding the Achaeans of the king’s crimes against the Greeks, that there was any movement (32.21). Livy records that the need to reach a verdict and the intense opposition of conflicting views created tremendous pressure and outbursts of violence among the Achaean League member states and people themselves (these conflicting views will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter). When it finally became apparent that more were in favour of breaking the alliance with Macedon than staying in it, the delegates of Dyme, Megalopolis, and some of the Argives left the council before the motion was passed. Their departure went uncriticized by the remaining members since these cities held close ties with Macedon and the royal house.¹⁴¹ The Megalopolitans, it is explained, when defeated by the Spartans, had been restored to their homes by Doson in 226 . Similarly, the Dymei, recently captured and plundered by the Romans, had been ransomed, restored to their homes, and given their liberty by Philip (Livy 32.22.10). The Argives too, besides believing the kings of Macedon to be descended from them,¹⁴² were bound to Philip by personal bonds of friendship (32.22‒23.3; see below for further detail). Therefore, the majority of the Achaean League, Philip’s ally since the beginning of his reign, severed their alliance with Macedon in light of the growing threat of Rome and the apparent weakness of the Macedonian king. The reasons for the Achaean League’s reluctance to go to war with Philip against Rome were varied,

¹³⁹ For the defection of the Achaeans, see Walbank (1940) 157 and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 427. ¹⁴⁰ Briscoe (1973) 202 suggests that these benefactions refer to the help Doson gave to the Achaeans against Cleomenes in the 220s, to Philip’s help in the Social War (beneficiis . . . veteribus) and to his concessions of Orchomenus, Heraea, Triphylia, and Alipheira in 199/8 (recentibus). Against this interpretation, Aymard (1938b) 87 n. 18 (cf. Holleaux (1921) 272 n. 3) argues that recentibus refers to Philip’s help of Achaea in the First Macedonian War. However, as Briscoe points out, it could be said that the First Macedonian War was not initiated by a decision of the Achaean League, that Philip only helped the League to prevent Sparta from fighting outside the Peloponnese, and that this designation of the First Macedonian War as recentibus would not give a sufficient contrast with veteribus. Crudelitate perfidiaque are stated to be Philip’s attacks of towns and pillaging of sacred places (crudelitas), and his murdering of political opponents and the secret machinations against Rhodes (perfidia). ¹⁴¹ See Pfeilschifter (2005) 187. ¹⁴² See Jones (1999) 36–41 for the Macedonian ties with Argos.

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yet a primary concern must have been the fear of Roman might and brutality.¹⁴³ On land and sea, the Romans had proven a ruthless enemy, witnessed at first in Galba’s command during the First Macedonian War (210–207; Paus. 7.8.2), and later throughout the Second Macedonian War in the commands of Galba, Flamininus, and his brother Lucius. It quickly became apparent that they were not averse to pillaging, massacring, and enslaving populations, and burning Greek cities for strategic purposes.¹⁴⁴ The Achaean League’s reasons for questioning their alliance with Philip had also been strengthened by the king’s inability to fend off the combined forces of Rome, Pergamum, and Rhodes, and his consequent loss of Phocis, Locris, and areas of Euboea and Thessaly in 199/8. Moreover, the League was already disillusioned with Philip’s high-handed behaviour towards them and his recent atrocities in Thessaly. It is therefore likely that Flamininus’ lenient treatment of the Epirotes after the battle at the Aous River (he prevented the army from plundering and destroying their country and towns in exchange for their allegiance) influenced the Achaean decision, no doubt as intended, as well as revealed the potential for Roman support against Nabis.¹⁴⁵ Yet, some in the Achaean League—the Megalopolitans, Dymei, and a few of the Argives—remained loyal to the Macedonian alliance, a fact that cannot be ignored when considering the relationship between Philip and his allies. Some of this loyalty may have been felt and expressed by the people of these cities as a whole, encouraged to feelings of goodwill and fidelity by previous acts of benefaction by the king—the masses in Dyme, for instance, would have remembered how Philip restored them after Galba had sold them into slavery (Livy 32.22.10). A large portion of this loyalty would, however, have resulted from personal bonds of guest-friendship (xenia) connecting the Macedonian house with the elite of these cities.¹⁴⁶ While the Polybian passage and terminology is lost, Livy outlines that ‘many [from these cities] were still attached to Philip by personal ties and private friendship’ (32.22.11: etiam hospitiis familiarique amicitia plerique illigati Philippo erant)—a statement which can only refer to ties of xenia.¹⁴⁷ Based on terms of reciprocity and the mutual exchange of personal favours, political and military power and advantage, gifts and services (‘euergetism’), such international ties were often stronger than those attaching the aristocracy to their own cities and institutions. Maintaining these relationships was, moreover, of high importance for a person’s social and political standing on both a local and international setting, and a breach or severing of the tie was considered a crime not only against ¹⁴³ See Walbank (1940) 157, and (1970) 291–307 = (2002) 91–106; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 427; Eckstein (1976) 119–42; Pfeilschifter (2005) 184–203, esp. 186–90; and Scherberich (2009) 172. ¹⁴⁴ See Eckstein (1976) 119–42 for the continuity of the brutality in the policies of Galba and Flamininus, and particularly p. 135 for the Romans’ typical aim of gaining the quick submission of strategic areas. For the Greek fear of Roman domination see also Ferrary (1988) 45–6. ¹⁴⁵ Cf. Shipley (2018) 82–5 for the Achaean fear of Nabis in this period. ¹⁴⁶ See Herman (1987) for xenia and the importance of ritualized friendship for the Greek elite. ¹⁴⁷ See Ager (2009) 15–43. See Gruen (1984) 54–95 for philia‒amicitia relationships.

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men but against the gods too.¹⁴⁸ The great aversion of the Megalopolitans, Dymei, and a section of the Argives to abandoning the Macedonian king was based, therefore, to a significant extent, on these personal connections and highlights the enduring strength of personal bonds in the Greek world which the Romans could not fully come between yet. It is equally possible that the king’s recent actions in Thessaly, the Aegean, and along the Thracian coast, his capture of Cius and Abydus, his wrathful behaviour in Attica, his attempt on Messene, and all the other accusations of treacherous and ruthless actions against his allies cited by Polybius, were not considered by all to be severe enough to leave the Macedonian alliance when given the opportunity. On the other hand, the above all demonstrated the king’s power in the Mediterranean and fear of Philip may equally have influenced the allies’ decision to stay, just as likely as it convinced others to leave. Loyalty can be acquired by fear as well as genuine affection and at times the line is so blurred that they could be one and the same. This is certainly the case of the loyalty of Corinth to the Macedonian cause. Livy records the unsuccessful Roman efforts to besiege and take Corinth after the defection of the Achaean League: it is stated that due to the large size of the Macedonian garrison in the city, the recent arrival of reinforcements commanded by Philip’s general Philocles, and the general lack of dissension among the Corinthian citizens, the siege was abandoned (32.23).¹⁴⁹ There were undoubtedly xenoi of Philip and Macedon within the city’s walls, yet we should also be cautious in crediting the citizens of Corinth with loyalty through goodwill towards the Macedonians alone. The size of the royal garrison stationed at the Acrocorinthus would have been substantial due to the importance of the city as one of the ‘fetters of Greece’, and the arrival of Macedonian reinforcements would only have increased pressure on the citizens not to surrender. The arrival of Philocles in the Peloponnese equally encouraged those in Argos who had defected from Macedon with the rest of the Achaean League to return to their allegiance with the Macedonians. Yet, the Argives only needed the encouragement of reinforcements to stay attached to the royal house.¹⁵⁰ Many, it seems, believed the Macedonian kings to be descended from Argive stock (cf. Livy 27.30.9: se Macedonum reges . . . oriundos ferunt), and, probably more importantly, the king’s royal marriage to one of the prestigious Polycratids of Argos, Polycratia, fostered strong personal bonds of loyalty to the Macedonian royal house among a prominent section of the Argive elite.¹⁵¹ Philip’s children, and notably his heir,

¹⁴⁸ Herman (1987) 124–6. ¹⁴⁹ There is no question that this attack on Corinth was in aid of drawing the Achaeans to the Roman side and to consolidate the alliance. See De Sanctis (1923) 68–9; Walbank (1940) 158–9; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 427; Grainger (1999b) 385 and Pfeilschifter (2005) 190 and n. 15. ¹⁵⁰ Cf. Walbank (1940) 157–8; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 428. ¹⁵¹ For Philip’s marriage to Polycratia and her significant impact on Antigonid relations with the Achaeans and Ptolemies, see D’Agostini (2022) 55–60.

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Perseus, could also claim direct maternal Argive lineage.¹⁵² Philip’s popularity among the masses is also recorded by Livy (32.25): it had been customary on assembly days to begin proceedings with the presiding officer pronouncing the names of Zeus, Apollo, and Heracles as an auspicious act. It had also been decreed (sometime unknown in the past) that Philip’s name be joined to the list. After the alliance with the Romans, however, the herald had not included Philip’s name after the gods in the customary manner and shouts rose from the crowd. Soon there was uproar as Philip’s supporters supplied his name and ordered that the legal honour be paid to him; the reading of his name was met with thunderous applause. Encouraged by this show of loyalty from the masses, Philocles was summoned and able to enter the city at night. Most of the Achaean forces were allowed to leave unharmed, while a few who remained determined to fight were defeated. It seems therefore that Argos and its people, connected historically to Macedon and home to individuals holding close personal connections with the royal Macedonian house, were far more inclined to keep to its attachments than others may have been. We unfortunately do not hear anything more about the fate of Megalopolis or Dyme from Polybius or Livy, and it is possible that they did not break away from the Achaean League despite their disapproval of the decision to leave the alliance.

The Boeotian League Besides Corinth, Argos, Megalopolis, and Dyme, the Boeotian confederation also remained loyal and attached to Macedon in 198 .¹⁵³ Brachylles, a prominent leader of the confederation and friend of the king, accompanied Philip after the Achaean League’s defection to the first meeting with Flamininus at Locris in 198 (Plb. 18.1.2). In fact, it was only in the spring of 197 before the battle of Cynoscephalae that the Roman commander set the task of bringing the Boeotians over to the Roman side. Once again, the affair only survives in Livy and we cannot be certain of the closeness of this version to Polybius’, although it is once again likely to derive from the Greek historian. The account of the Boeotian decision to break away from Macedon is not as long or as emotionally charged as that of the Achaean one (it is very likely still derived from Polybius’ narrative since the Greek historian will not have had access to Boeotian sources in the same way as he did

¹⁵² For Perseus’ lineage and the popular topos of his bastardy, see Plb. 23.7.5; Livy 39.53.2–3, 40.9.2; Diod. 29.25. Scholars are in agreement that Polycratia was Perseus’ mother and that he was the official heir of Philip; see e.g. Gruen (1974) 221–46; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 490–1; Odgen (1999) 183–7; Carney (2020) 307–18; and D’Agostini (2022) 54–5. ¹⁵³ For Boeotia during this period see Plb. 20.4–7, and Feyel (1942), Aymard (1946) 310–16, Cloché (1952) 240–9, Roesch (1965) 112–21 and (1982) 404–11, Mendels (1977) 161–5 and (1978) 29–30, Walbank HCP III 66–74, Müller (2013) 267–78, and Mari & Thornton (2016) 139–95.

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Achaean ones). It takes up only two passages in Livy’s narrative (33.1‒2), while the Achaean affair is double that length (32.19‒23.3), and the Boeotians are said to have concealed their sorrow, the display of which would have been both fruitless and not without risk (texerunt dolorem quem et nequiquam et non sine periculo ostendissent; 33.1.8).¹⁵⁴ A sentiment likely true in view of the recent defection of the Achaean League, Philip’s inability to assist them and the fact that the location of the meeting, Thebes, was currently occupied by 2,000 Roman soldiers (33.1). Among the speakers, Attalus reminded the assembly of his and his forefathers’ services to the Greek and Boeotian people, and Aristaenus, the Achaean general of the previous year, gave the same advice to the Boeotians as he did the Achaeans— it was futile and dangerous to support Philip any longer. Flamininus also spoke in terms of Roman loyalty rather than their strength and material resources to counter the Roman reputation for brutality. The motion proposing an alliance with Rome was carried unanimously by the Boeotian cities, no one daring to speak against it (33.2). Fear is the main emotion running throughout the narrative, so much so that the Boeotians do not even have a voice and we are consequently unable to determine their attitude towards Philip or the Romans. With the Boeotian defection, Philip lost his last ally in central Greece. Yet, the actions of the Boeotians only a short time after the battle of Cynoscephalae may reveal more about their regard for Macedon and Rome. Polybius records (18.43.1‒4; cf. Livy 33.27.5‒9) that the Boeotians approached Flamininus in the winter of 196 , anxious to recover the men who had served under Philip in the war. The Roman commander, hoping to reconcile the Boeotians and win goodwill among the Greek states, consented to look to their safe return. Among those who were brought back was Brachylles, son of Neon, a close friend of the house of Macedon, and who was immediately made boiotarch. Yet his return by Roman intervention did not change his attachment to Macedon as he continued to promote the interests of other pro-Macedonian Boeotians. Furthermore, gratitude for the recovery of the Boeotians was directed to Philip instead of the Roman commander. A portion of the Boeotians, it seems, despite the recent vote by the assembly to conclude an alliance with Rome and the king’s defeat, were still loyal to the Macedonian royal house. One of the reasons for Boeotia’s strong loyalty to Macedon is fortunately preserved in the literary evidence: the bond of xenia between the Macedonian royal house and the family of Ascondas and Neon.¹⁵⁵ Given their long-term

¹⁵⁴ Cf. Walbank (1940) 166–7; and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 434. ¹⁵⁵ Although this relationship is never explicitly defined as xenia by Polybius, Herman (1987) 15, 42–3, 49, persuasively argues that it is. The way that the relationship between Doson and Neon is formed fits with the general pattern for initiating guest-friendship: when two strangers are brought together with the prospect of a violent encounter, one averts the crisis, mostly against expectation, by some generous gesture. This gesture, along with other rituals, then serves as a kind of trigger which turns hostility into friendship and the start of mutual obligations and support. This pattern can also be

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involvement in Greek affairs, the royal house of Macedon no doubt had many connections with the Greek aristocracy, however, the presence of such relationships is only occasionally recorded in any detail. The attachment of the house of Neon to the Macedonian kings is one such exception, however, and thankfully comes down to us in a more complete form in the surviving fragments of Polybius. At 20.5.5‒14 the historian states that in 239 , during the Aetolian war against Demetrius II, the Boeotians deserted the Aetolians and surrendered to Macedon on the arrival of the king with his army in Boeotia. Some Boeotians, however, objected to this change of allegiance and rose in violent opposition against the partisans of Macedon. Included among these was Ascondas and Neon (the grandfather and father of Brachylles).¹⁵⁶ These two men soon got the upper hand in Boeotian policy; however an encounter with the new Macedonian king, Antigonus Doson, quickly changed the situation: Doson had been sailing to Larymna on business when his ship grounded on the shallows on the coast of Boeotia. It had just been reported that Doson was about to raid the country and Neon, currently hipparch and on the move with the whole Boeotian cavalry, came upon the Macedonian king in this difficult position and in great distress. Yet, although Neon could have attacked the Macedonians, he instead spared the king and his men. Doson was grateful that Neon had not attacked him while in this dangerous predicament and later made Brachylles, Neon’s son, epistates of Sparta after the battle of Sellasia in 222  (Plb. 20.5.12). The consequences of this initial meeting and the ensuing friendship contributed in no small part to the fortunes of Brachylles and his house, as not only Doson, but also Philip, furnished him with money and strengthened his position in Boeotia. In return, Boeotia aligned itself more strongly with Macedon. Brachylles not only accompanied Philip to the conference of Nicaea with Flamininus in 198  (18.1.2), but also continued to support the Macedonian party in Boeotia after Cynoscephalae and his return, his obligation as a xenos of the Macedonian royal house requiring him to do so. This tie was equally likely the reason for Philip’s return of the Boeotians and Brachylles without contention or ransom, and the reason that the Boeotian people sent thanks to Philip instead of the Romans. The fact that Brachylles was appointed to the office of boiotarch immediately after his return must also indicate continued Macedonian leanings at least among some of the Boeotian elite, strong enough, despite the king’s defeat, to take precedence within their internal and external politics. seen in Herodotus, for example, in his tale of Syloson, Darius, and the cloak (3.139ff.); and in Xenophon more explicitly in his description of the ritual which turned Agesilaus and Pharnabazus’ son into xenoi (Hellenica 4.1.39). The specific terms of ritualized friendship were only rarely written down but are evident in the inscription, for example, in the symbolon from Sicily, recording a bond of xenia between a Phoenician and a Greek and his descendants (IG XIV 279). Cf. Walbank HCP III 69–72. ¹⁵⁶ Neon was honoured at Epidaurus (SEG 11.414, l. 30); cf. Paschidis (2008) 319–23 for this family and their connection with Macedonian kings.

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Brachylles’ appointment as boiotarch and his subsequent support and promotion of other pro-Macedonians among the Boeotians displeased the Roman advocates, particularly Zeuxippus and Pisistratus, as they foresaw that if the Romans left Greece and Philip remained, public life in Boeotia would no longer be safe for them or their relatives. Approaching Flamininus, therefore, they suggested that Brachylles should be assassinated. Polybius records that Flamininus said he would take no part in the deed but would not obstruct them from their purpose (Livy 33.27.5‒29.12, follows Polybius but omits Flamininus’ involvement in the affair), and even advised them to contact the Aetolian, Alexamenus, to arrange the assassination (Plb. 18.43). Livy (33.29) reports Brachylles’ death caused a frenzy of hatred among the Boeotian people towards Rome, ending in the massacre of 500 Roman soldiers. Since the Boeotian leaders refused to pay 500 talents for the deaths of the soldiers, Flamininus attacked Coronea. It was only after pleas from the Achaeans and Athenians that the Romans allowed the Boeotian ambassadors an audience; peace was granted only after those responsible for the killings were handed over and an indemnity of thirty talents was paid.¹⁵⁷ It is clear from their actions that the Boeotians, like the Argives, were far more inclined towards Philip and Macedon than the majority of the Achaean League, even staying loyal to the king after his defeat at Cynoscephalae. This inclination was, it seems, primarily founded on the long-term ties of friendship between the royal Macedonian house and that of Neon, although no doubt their geographical position in mainland Greece, being closer to the territory of Macedonia than Rome and Greek Roman allies, had some part to play in this too. It was only after the removal of Philip’s xenos Brachylles and the violence of a siege of Coronea following the decisive battle that the Boeotians were forced to reconcile with Rome.

The Acarnanian League The Acarnanians were also more resilient to Roman pressure and the last people in Greece to remain attached to the Macedonian alliance.¹⁵⁸ Yet, we have little information about their connection with the royal Macedonian house beyond their joint difference with the Aetolians.¹⁵⁹ Livy records that before the battle of Cynoscephalae, Lucius Quinctius, the brother of Flamininus, had summoned the Acarnanian leaders to a meeting in Corcyra and had made some headway in ¹⁵⁷ Cf. Walbank (1940) 178; Walbank HCP II 608–9; and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 445. ¹⁵⁸ Walbank (1940) 166–7; Oost (1954) 49–51. For the Acarnanian League, see Larsen (1968) 264–73 and Dany (1999). See also Oost (1954) for Roman policy in Acarnania from the First Macedonian War onwards. ¹⁵⁹ For the Acarnanian relationship with Aetolia, including an anomalous alliance in c.260s and 250s, see Grainger (1999b) 68–9, 76–8, 117–21, passim; Scholten (2000) 78–80, 88, 134–6, 253–6.

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provoking a shift towards Rome, but was ultimately unsuccessful because of the Acarnanians’ fear and hatred of the Aetolians (their long-term troublesome neighbours) who kept them loyal to the Macedonian king (33.16.1‒2).¹⁶⁰ The Acarnanians had joined the Symmachy at the alliance’s conception in Doson’s reign to protect themselves from Aetolian aggression and on a number of occasions had requested assistance against and accompanied Philip on raids of Aetolian territory: in 219, 2,000 Acarnanian infantry and 200 cavalry had followed Philip during his invasion of Aetolia when he had captured Ambracia and Oeniadae, which were returned to them (4.63.7); in 218, Philip had invaded Aetolia on the Acarnanians’ request (Plb. 5.5), and the otherwise unknown Acarnanian general, Aristophantus, had met Philip at Limnaea with the full force of the Acarnanians to help in the raid and destruction of Thermum (5.6.1).¹⁶¹ Aetolian ambitions to reconquer Acarnania did not subside after the Social War, however, since this was one of the strongest motives offered by the Romans to the Aetolians in their treaty of 212 (Livy 26.24.6‒11), a fact which would equally not have endeared Rome to the Acarnanian cause.¹⁶² The Acarnanians remained strong allies of Philip in the First Macedonian War because of the Aetolian alliance with Rome, and were foederi adscripti of Philip at the peace treaty of Phoenice in 205 (Livy 29.12.14). Following Lucius Quinctius’ failure to bring over the Acarnanians, a council was called at Leucas to discuss the situation, but not all the representatives of the cities went to the meeting and those who did could not come to an agreement.¹⁶³ In this confusion, Archelaus and Bianor, two prominent Acarnanian magistrates, were eventually able to pass an unofficial decree favouring a Roman alliance (33.16.3).¹⁶⁴ The cities not represented at this meeting, however, resented the decree bitterly and so confused was the League that the two Acarnanians sent by Philip, Androcles and Echedemus, were able not only to rescind the decree, but also to convict Archelaus and Bianor of charges of treason and remove the proposer of the motion from office (33.16.4‒5).¹⁶⁵ While Archelaus and Bianor

¹⁶⁰ Oost (1954) 50. ¹⁶¹ For Aristophantus and his connection with the Macedonian kings, see Paschidis (2008) 341–2. ¹⁶² On the treaty of 212, see Schmitt (1969) 536 and Dany (1999) 153–62. ¹⁶³ Deininger (1971) 48 and n. 9 suggests that the pro-Macedonians abstained from attending the first meeting in protest at the Roman ploy; however, Oost (1954) 50, Briscoe (1973) 278, Dany (1999) 267–8, and Paschidis (2008) 343 n. 6 have more persuasively noted that the pro-Macedonians had the majority and therefore had no reason to abstain. It is more likely that the pro-Roman officials summoned the assembly in haste to deliberately avoid notifying the most devoted of the proMacedonian cities. ¹⁶⁴ This was the first time that a pro-Roman faction was created in Acarnanian history; cf. Dany (1999) 175 and Paschidis (2008) 342 and n. 5. Bianor may be the Leucadian archon of the koinon in 216 (IG IX 1² 2, 583, l. 20); cf. Habicht (1957) 118 and Paschidis (2008) 343 n. 4. ¹⁶⁵ Larsen (1968) 270 n. 5 argues that the decree was irregular because unanimity was required. Oost (1954) 51, Deininger (1971) 48, Briscoe (1973) 278, and Paschidis (2008) 343 n. 6 more persuasively suggest that the pro-Macedonians claimed the decree was below quorum and therefore the private views of those few who voted.

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were eventually pardoned, it was voted to abide by the treaty with Philip and to reject the friendship of the Romans (33.16.6‒11). Learning about the Acarnanian decision, the Romans besieged Leucas but only took the city after the defeat at Cynoscephalae when all the cities of Acarnania surrendered (33.17).¹⁶⁶ Any personal links between Philip and the Acarnanian elite are impossible to determine, although it is likely that they existed given how pro-Macedonian many of the Acarnanian cities were. Androcles and Echedemus were not part of the official Macedonian administration, it seems, but commanders of the Acarnanian forces recently returned from supporting the Macedonians at the assault on Corinth (Livy 33.14.1‒5).¹⁶⁷ However, these two, as representatives of Philip and working in close collaboration with him, may have had some personal association with the king as well. Despite these uncertainties, however, we can at least assert that at the end of the third century  and beginning of the second it was the geographical position of Acarnania, its acute opposition to Aetolia, and Philip’s ever-ready assistance against the Aetolians (as opposed to the Romans who were allied with Aetolia), that informed the Acarnanians’ long loyalty to Macedon. *

*

How can the Acarnanians’ long-lasting loyalty towards Macedon, and the reluctance of the Achaean League and the Boeotians to join Rome, be seen in light of Polybius’ statement that Philip’s treatment of his allies became increasingly tyrannical, treacherous, and ruthless? Surely, if Philip had demonstrated such severe and extreme behaviour his allies would have sent emissaries to other rulers and the Romans for help, just as the Rhodians and Athenians had done. The Greek world was split between the new Roman power and the old Macedonian one, and the reasons for this separation were influenced by the military might of the two powers and the Greek expectation of each side’s success (this divide in opinion in the Greek world and Polybius’ answer to it will be discussed further in the next chapter). While the Epirotes were forced to defect because of Roman invasion and the unlikelihood of Philip’s assistance, some of the king’s other allies may have wavered over this decision because they thought the Macedonian king still powerful enough to succeed against the Romans and protect them. Or, conversely, they thought he was still strong enough to pose a threat to them should he come out victorious. Philip had after all proved resourceful in protecting his allies in the past, had been successful in many of his wars against his enemies, and had dealt with any betrayals of the Macedonian alliance with severity (see, for example, Oreus in 208 ). On the other hand, those still free to make a decision may not have viewed the prospect of a new foreign power holding sway over Greece with much enthusiasm. It might have seemed far better to remain ¹⁶⁶ Cf. Walbank (1940) 175. ¹⁶⁷ Cf. Deininger (1971) 48, Dany (1999) 179, and Paschidis (2008) 344.

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under Macedonian influence, a regional superpower well known to them and no longer considered ‘other’ in the second century , than to place oneself under the rule of a relatively unknown hegemon who had shown equivalent, if not more, brutality and ruthlessness in their activity in mainland Greece and whose political and cultural conventions were alien to their own.¹⁶⁸ For the Acarnanians, local political dynamics were also key: the Macedonian king’s hostility towards the Aetolians made him an attractive ally, and Philip had consistently proven a beneficial aid in fighting off Aetolian aggression and protecting Acarnanian territory; the Romans, on the other hand, from the beginning had allied themselves with the Aetolians against Philip, making them an automatic threat to Acarnanian interests. If the sources are to be believed, we should also not underestimate the strength of the ties of friendship and kinship linking Philip to the Greeks and the role these connections played in exacerbating the tensions felt at the time. Inter-state coalitions of the elite extending beyond the boundaries of the polis were often the deciding factors in issues of policy. It is likely, therefore, that such ties encouraged the separation of Argos, Megalopolis, and Dyme from the Achaean League after its break from the Macedonian alliance and also turned Boeotia from its decision to ally with Rome. Affection, ties of obligation, and fear—these were what held Philip’s allies to him. This mixture of attitudes created a steady loyalty in many of the Greek cities. Yet it was fear, primarily of Roman might and brutality, but also of Philip’s own increase in power, and conversely of the possibility that he might not be powerful enough to protect his allies, which broke that hold. Fear of Philip certainly played a part in driving the Achaeans into an alliance with Rome, it was also the perception that supporting Philip would be ultimately futile. The king had not been able to fulfil his promise to protect his allies from the brutality of Roman attack and there was little hope that he would be able to in the future with the joint forces of Pergamum, Aetolia, Athamania, and Rhodes building up against him.

Conclusion Polybius’ claim that after Messene Philip reversed the benevolent treatment that he had afforded his Greek allies and thereupon turned to ruthlessness and ¹⁶⁸ For an example of this cultural clash, see Moreno Leoni (2014) 146–79 and (2017) 208–23 on the failure of the Aetolian deditio in fidem in 191 . This is in contrast with Gruen’s argument (in 1984) which stipulates that the Greeks were already familiar with Roman conventions. Moreno’s perspective, however, echoes Momigliano (1990) 22–49, who argues that Polybius found a culture and people in Rome which he could recognize, and that he created an atmosphere within his Histories in which ‘Roman conquests became both easy to understand and difficult to question’. This implies that Polybius was not fully aware of Roman culture and political conventions before he was held hostage in Rome and that by default neither were the majority of the Greeks at this time. Part of the historian’s purpose was to write about Rome in such a way that Greeks could understand it, and thereby also indicates that the Greeks were not wholly knowledgeable of Roman ways (cf. Erskine (2000b) 165–82 and (2013a) 115–29).

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treachery cannot be fully substantiated. While it seems Philip may have exhibited more heavy-handed and arrogant behaviour towards some of his allies in these years—his behaviour at the Nemean Games, for instance, is suspect, and his rebukes to Oreus and Chalcis and the burning of Thessaly indicate a more obviously unequal relationship—Polybius has exaggerated his negative portrait of Philip. For the modern reader, this overall impression of tyranny and treachery in Polybius could, of course, be exacerbated by the fragmentary nature of his text and the fact that more episodes discussing issues of morality were preserved by the Byzantine excerptors than narrative. Yet, even if this is the case, it means that Polybius’ claim at the Messenian episode is even more exaggerated. The information contained in his own and Livy’s narratives suggest also that other, more balanced interpretations were and are possible. Despite its fragmentary state, not only is the king recorded as being active in his support and protection of his allies throughout the duration of his alliances with them, but it also seems that many of them felt little compunction, either through affection or fear, to abandon Macedon when the opportunity arose. This, of course, does not mean that Philip was not ruthless or treacherous, or that he was not prepared to exert considerable pressure on his allies when it was beneficial to or necessary for his own position. He certainly was. However, it does mean that Philip’s dealings with his Greek allies were not as simplistically fraught as Polybius makes out. The king was very much aware of the importance of preserving the strength, safety, and goodwill of his Greek allies, or at least of keeping them unopposed to his influence, for the sake of his own power and resources, and particularly when he was aiming for expansion and conquest. He therefore made consistent and concerted efforts to protect them and keep them on his side. In Polybius’ mind, however, his interpretation of Philip as an increasingly treacherous and tyrannical ruler is justified and supported by the evidence. We have seen, on the other hand, that other readings are indeed possible, and that Polybius’ assessment is thoroughly grounded in a morally focused, anti-Macedonian, and Achaean point of view. This chapter has focused on the perception, propagated by Polybius, that Philip mistreated his Greek allies and demonstrated that this view cannot withstand scrutiny. The next chapter will explore Polybius’ portrait of Philip in relation to Rome. It will take up the theme of a divided Greek world, unsure of which great power to side with, and explore one of the ways in which Polybius tried to fit the Macedonians and Romans into a new conception of the world and explain why turning to Rome was the right decision for the Greeks.

4 Philip and the Romans Philip’s portrait in Polybius’ Histories is as closely connected with Rome as it is with the Achaean League and Aratus. As a work whose primary purpose was to explain how and why Rome came to power in the Mediterranean, it would have been impossible for the depiction of the Macedonian king not to be affected by this overarching theme in the Histories. Like the interdependency of the Achaean– Macedonian portrait observed in the early chapters of this study, the images of Philip and the Italian power are also dependent on each other, tailored to fit, by working in tandem, into the specific political and didactic purpose of the Histories. As outlined in the Introduction, not only does the reign of Philip (along with that of other rulers, including Achaeus, Antiochus III, Ariarathes, Ptolemy IV, Lycurgus, and Hannibal) begin at the start of the main part of the Histories in 221/0  (Plb. 1.3; 4.2.5), but, from the outset, the Macedonian king is credited with further structural importance in Rome’s rise as the designated initiator of the symploke that sets off and frames this change in power (Plb. 5.105.4–5). Polybius claims that, by the end of the Social War in 217 , the attention of the Greek world was drawn towards the struggles in the West and that the horizons of the world would forever be expanded and intertwined (Plb. 5.104–5). In Polybius’ mind, Rome’s dominance in the Mediterranean was fully established by the defeat of Perseus in the Third Macedonian War in 167  (Plb. 3.1.9–10). This war was allegedly prepared for and initiated by Philip (Plb. 22.18) and originally marked the end of his Histories before its expansion (cf. Plb. 1.1.5–6, 2.7, 4.1; 3.1.4–10, 3.8, 4.1).¹ While designating the year 168  as the historical point at which Rome had consolidated its power in the east is open to debate, what is of significance here is that it marked such a point for Polybius.² By 167 , Rome had gained supremacy in the Mediterranean and was set to stay, an interpretation no doubt influenced by the consequences it had for Polybius’ own person and his internment at Rome.³ The symploke was the underlying theme structuring the original thirty-book plan,

¹ See Livy 37.45.3 for the battle of Pydna; Polybius’ account has been lost. ² Walbank HCP I 42 and Derow (2003) 65 disagree, however, with Polybius regarding the date of Rome’s establishment of supremacy, taking it back to the treaty of Apamea following the defeat of Antiochus III in 188 . For the conditions imposed afterwards, see Plb. 21.16–17 and Livy 37.45.3. For the Third Macedonian War, see Gruen (1976) 32–5 and (1984) 408–23; Golan (1989) 112–27; Eckstein (2008) 344–81; and Burton (2017) 78–196. ³ For details of Polybius’ career and internment in Rome, see Erskine (2012) 17–32.

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0005

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giving coherence to the overall explanation of Rome’s rise. That Philip and Macedon framed its beginning and end (by virtue of the king being the one to conceive and prepare for the Third Macedonian War: Plb. 22.18) puts him in a particularly striking and significant position. While this significance may have been obscured by Polybius’ subsequent decision to extend his narrative down to 146  in Book 3 (3.3.7), it nevertheless does not alter the fact that the actions of the Macedonian kingdom frame Rome’s rise to power in Polybius’ account. His portraits of Philip and the Romans will therefore be affected by this encompassing structure and teleological perspective, by the need to show how one power fell from power and the other rose to it. Polybius’ Greek perspective, already demonstrated to have heavily influenced and shaped the account of the king’s early years, continues to play a significant role in the development of the image of Philip and Rome, particularly in terms of explaining the transition of power and the inevitability of such a change. He assesses the might, conduct, and success of each power from the point of view of a member of the Greek (specifically Megalopolitan and Achaean) elite and one embedded in the second century who was subject to and felt the dominance of both hegemonic powers. The way the king is depicted, therefore, will have been specifically tailored by Polybius to help demonstrate to a Greek and Achaean audience why Rome was successful, and conversely why Macedon and the Greek east were not. Moreover, to ameliorate the confusion and crises of the mid-second century and encourage the Greeks to situate themselves willingly into a new and stable world order, Polybius recognized the need to explain not only why Rome’s rise was inevitable, but also why submitting to Roman power was the only sensible course of action for the Greeks to take under the circumstances. This chapter, split into three parts, explores how Polybius attempts to address and settle the long-contentious issue of Macedonian and Roman interference in the Greek world, to explain how and why a western ‘barbarian’ was successful in defeating Macedon, and to justify the downfall of Philip and Macedon in cultural and political terms.

Part 1: Polybius and the Macedonian–Roman Question in the Second Century  In his narrative of the build-up to Cynoscephalae in 197, Polybius justifies the decision taken by a number of Philip’s Greek allies to defect to Rome before the conflict. As illustrated in Chapter 3, this was not an uncontroversial decision, and a noticeable portion of his allies seem rather to have favoured Philip’s cause (cf. App. Mac. 8, although Appian probably goes too far in saying this formed a ‘majority’). Later too, after Philip’s death and during the Third Macedonian War, whether to side with Macedon or Rome was a contentious issue. While certain

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Greek communities, such as the Boeotians and Rhodians, decided to back Perseus (Plb. 27.1–7, 9–10, 28.10–11, 19; cf. App. Mac. 17–34), others such as the Achaeans, Thessalians, Acarnanians, and Aetolians sided with Rome (Plb. 28.3–7), and all were equally plagued by rivalrous factions variously advocating pro-Macedonian, pro-Roman, neutral, or reserved policies (cf. Plb. 27.15; 28.2–7, 16–17).⁴ There was, therefore, clear indecision and uncertainty among the Greeks regarding whether to side with Macedon or Rome at the end of the third century  and into the first half of the second. Many Greek states were just as suspicious and fearful of Roman power as they were of Macedonian interference. It was this division and uncertainty among the Greeks, this question regarding Macedon and the barbarian, which was still just as pertinent in the middle of the second century as it was in the fourth, that Polybius had to contend with in his explanation of Roman power in the Greek world.⁵ He himself must surely have pondered what the correct policy regarding the two powers was for the Greeks, and particularly for the Achaean League, throughout the course of Rome’s gradual encroachment into the Greek east. While Polybius’ Arcadian background would originally have encouraged personal sympathy towards Macedon, following Philip II’s extension of Megalopolis’ boundaries in the fourth century, the situation in the second century was different and allegiance to Macedon progressively developed into a hindrance rather than a benefit. This came to a head with the defeat of Perseus in 168, following which large numbers of Greek statesmen were deported to Rome. Earlier attitudes and policies towards both superpowers needed to be reassessed, therefore, in order to make sense of and adapt to the changes that had happened in the Mediterranean over the previous fifty years. In addressing this complex issue, Polybius’ narrative offers an answer, unsurprisingly agreeing with the decision to side with Rome and countering criticism of Achaea’s betrayal of Macedon in 197 (cf. Plb.18.13.8). In his restricted position between Greece and Rome, the historian would have been unable to offer a different answer.⁶ Moreover, as a pragmatist, Polybius would have seen no advantage in attempting to change or deny the Romans’ supremacy in the immediate future and therefore

⁴ The decision to side with Perseus was heavily criticized by Polybius at 27.2.10, 27.7.7–12, and especially at 30.7–9. Cf. Walbank (1963) 9–10 = (1985) 284. ⁵ The ‘Greekness’ of the Macedonian kings had been a long-standing issue in the Greek world and depended largely on local politics and expediency. For the kings as legitimate Greeks, see Hdt. 1.56; 5.20; 8.43, 137–9. The historicity of story of Alexander I’s acceptance into the Olympic Games c.500  by the Hellanodicae (Hdt. 5.22) is doubtful; see Borza (1990) 110–14. For the Macedonian people as barbarians, see Thrasymachus DK 85 B 2 and Thuc. 2.80.5–7; 4.124.1. The Macedonian kings were seen as distinct from the Macedonian people by Thucydides (2.99.3) and Isocrates (To Philip 5.32, 105–12), but considered barbarians by Dem. 9.31; 3.24; (and below the status of barbarians) 10.31–4. Aeschines saw Philip II as a barbarian before his embassy to Pella in 346 , but a Greek devoted to the Athenians upon his return (Dem. 19.305, 203). Cf. Walbank (1970) 291–99 = (2002) 91–9; Champion (2004) 40–3. ⁶ See Walbank (1974) 1–31 = (1985) 280–97 for Polybius’ intermediary position, views on Roman imperialism, and the best policy for the Achaean League. For the Achaeans’ complicated position in between Macedon and Rome, see also Moreno Leoni (2017) 131–81.

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to inspire further resistance among the Greek states in the current setting. The disaster of the Achaean War in 146  had proven the futility of such a venture. Yet, his answer is not one that prohibits the possibility of future change or future resistance. He did not demand continuous blind adherence to a new singular hegemon who was already in the process, in his mind at least, of negative transformation. His answer, as we will see, transcended the great powers involved. Yet, before Polybius could put forth his own answer, he had to embed the confusion of the various opinions surrounding the issue into his narrative. He does so not in his own words but in those of his historical agents, by the incorporation of speeches given at various Greek assemblies between 215 and 197. These speeches illustrate the differing views of the Greeks regarding the two superpowers, while simultaneously allowing the historian to refrain from voicing his own opinion. Their historicity is disputed, but they can be relied upon to impart appropriate arguments deployed on each side and document at least some of the opinions held at the time.⁷ While Polybius’ emphasis on the decline of the Macedonian–Achaean relationship (as discussed in Chapter 3) goes some way to explaining why the League decided to defect in 198 , the speeches go further geographically and demonstrate the uncertainty and conflicting views raging in the Greek world before this decision was made.

A World in Two Minds The first speeches come as a pair and appear in Book 9, in the account of the year 210  and just after the Aetolians had joined Rome in the First Macedonian War. The Aetolian and Acarnanian ambassadors, Chlaineas and Lyciscus, each give a speech at Sparta respectively encouraging and discouraging the Spartans from joining the war against Philip.⁸ As Walbank has pointed out, this discussion focuses more on the role of Macedon in Greece, particularly its historical role, than on the person of Philip V or the immediate situation and character of the Romans.⁹ Chlaineas, the first to speak (9.28–31), argues that Macedonian power had always, since Philip II, represented slavery for the Greeks, that any act of kindness on their part was used to persuade or coerce the Greeks into submission, and that Philip V had exhibited a similarly dominating character by his

⁷ For these speeches and their authenticity, see Walbank HCP II 162–81, 274–7; (1963/1985) 149–53; (1965) 16–17; and (2002) 95–6; Deininger (1971) 23–34 and (1973) 103–8; Gruen (1984) 322–4; Champion (1997) 111–28 and (2000) esp. 429–41 and (2004) 193–203. For the inclusion of antiRoman sentiments in speeches indicating a political choice of Polybius, see Champion (2004) 193–5. ⁸ For the speeches by Chlaineas and Lyciscus, see Walbank, HCP II 162–81, Champion (2000) 425–44 and (2004) 193. ⁹ Walbank (2002) 96–8.

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demonstration of impiety at Thermum and cruelty towards men by his perfidy and treachery at Messene. Lyciscus, in response to these arguments (9.32–9), offers the opposite perspective on the Macedonian presence in Greece: the Macedonian kings had, since Philip II, always acted as a bulwark protecting the mainland Greeks against barbarian invasion, first against Persia, then against the non-Greek peoples north of Macedonia. Lyciscus concedes that the Macedonian kings had brought both benefits and injury to the Greeks, but that these injuries were outweighed by those inflicted by the Aetolians. While Philip V had executed the assault on Thermum badly, the Aetolians had no right to voice such condemnation as they themselves had committed similar acts of impiety and ruthlessness by their own destruction of Dium and Dodona in 219  (9.35.6; cf. 4.62.1–4, 67.3–4). The two opposing views on Macedon expounded in these speeches no doubt represent the historical reality in some form as the Aetolians were again actively at war with Philip in 210 and the Acarnanians were loyal allies of the royal Macedonian house (cf. 9.32). At this point, the Romans only appear in passing in Chlaineas’ speech, which focuses more on the good deeds of the Aetolians than their present connection with the western power. Lyciscus, however, explicitly draws attention to this alliance, asserting that the Aetolians had allied themselves with barbarians (τῶν βαρβάρων; 9.37.6, cf. 38.5), and were consorting with men of a foreign people who intended to enslave Greece (περὶ δουλείας ἐνίσταται πόλεμος τοῖς Ἓλλησι πρὸς ἀλλοφύλους ἀνθρώπους; 9.37.7).¹⁰ The Aetolians, therefore, were turning against their own culture to defeat the Macedonian king, who was fighting for the Hellenic cause and could therefore be seen as more Greek than they were.¹¹ Tellingly, while Lyciscus at this point strongly denounces the Romans as barbarians, Chlaineas omits them altogether, not even offering an opposing positive perspective of them. There are, therefore, two sides to the Macedonian question in Greece in 210, but only one side to the Roman one.¹² A similar discussion occurs a few years later at an Aetolian assembly in 207 , recorded in Book 11. However, only one of the speeches survives, that generally attributed to Thrasycrates (11.4–6) along with a fragment, 11.3.7, which may have been located just before it, and therefore suggest that [Thrasycrates]’ speech is the

¹⁰ Cf. Walbank HCP II 176. This view that Rome intended to conquer Greece is a constant theme in Polybius’ Histories and even appears later after Flamininus’ proclamation of Greek freedom in 196  (Plb. 18.46). ¹¹ Cf. Walbank (2002) 98. The Greekness of the Aetolians was also questioned by Philip at the conference of Nicaea before the battle of Cynoscephalae, Plb. 18.5.7–8. Cf. Champion (2004) 129–37. ¹² Cf. Millar (2006) 94 for the observation that Polybius, while never openly criticizing the Romans himself, also never claims that Roman dominion was a good thing or brought benefits to those subject to it. This view is supported by Thornton (2013) 213–29, McGing (2010) 157–64 and (2018) 431. This is in opposition to Walbank (1963) 1–13 = (1985) 138–56 and Baronowski (2011) 101–6, that Polybius’ view of the Romans became increasingly hostile. See also Moreno Leoni (2017) 74–89, who argues that Polybius is more interested in preserving and outlining the different opinions of the Romans held by the different peoples and speakers in his work, and that his own views should be held as separate.

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counter-argument.¹³ Here, [Thrasycrates] rebukes the Aetolians for their alliance with Rome and proclaims that while they claim to be fighting Philip, in fact they bring war and ruin to all of the Greeks. The Romans are once again called barbarians (11.5.7) and the view that they intend to conquer the Greeks after they have finished with the Hannibalic War is reiterated. The suggestion that this is a counter-speech to an anti-Macedonian one may be supported by the fact that [Thrasycrates] refers to an earlier statement made by the Aetolians: ‘You say that you are fighting with Philip for the sake of the Greeks . . .’ (Plb. 11.5.1: φατὲ μὲν γὰρ πολεμεῖν ὑπὲρ τῶν Ἑλλήνων πρὸς Φίλιππον . . .).¹⁴ The previous speech would very likely have attacked Philip and advocated the continuation of the war. While the loss of the first speech makes understanding the specific details of each side impossible, the second illustrates that the Greek world was still divided over the Macedon–Rome question in 207 . [Thrasycrates] does, however, offer a slightly different perspective on the affair as the point of view is from that of the Greek communities in the Aegean and Asia Minor, many of which were not attached to either side. Philip is viewed in more neutral terms: there is no praise of the king or his predecessors, only the statement that the king is the nominal pretext for the war and in no real danger himself (λοιπὸν ὁ μὲν Φίλιππος ὂνομα γίνεται καὶ πρόσχημα τοῦ πολέμου, πάσχει γὰρ οὐδεν δεινόν; 11.5.4). The ruin of his Greek allies and the future of the Greek world is the focus here rather than Philip or Macedon. The Romans are, however, described in the same hostile terms as they were by Lyciscus in Book 9—they are, according to [Thrasycrates], barbarians and a threat to Greek freedom. The fight between these two points of view continues until the decisive battle at Cynoscephalae in 197 . An episode in Livy, adapted from Polybius, records the urgings of a Macedonian ambassador to the Aetolians in 199 to remain at peace with Philip during the impending struggle with the western power (Livy 31.29).¹⁵ Should Philip be defeated, he says, the mainland Greeks could only expect the same brutal treatment from the Romans as the Greek cities of Italy (Rhegium, Tarentum, Capua) and Sicily (Syracuse, Messana).¹⁶ The Romans are an alien, barbaric people, separated from the Greeks by language, culture, and law. The Macedonians, however, are included among the Greek peoples: Aetolos, Acarnanas, Macedonas, eiusdem linguae homines, leves ad tempus ortae causae diiungunt coniunguntque; cum alienigenis, cum barbaris aeternum ¹³ The speaker is identified as Thrasycrates in the margin of F 2, and was perhaps a Rhodian (LGPN 1.226 = V1-34424 (online)); although, this name is generally rare and might be the more common Thrasycles (Polybius, Histories, Loeb edition, vol. 4, 265, n. 10). See Walbank, HCP II 274–7, Dreyer (2002) 33–9, and Champion (2004) 193 for this speech and fragment 11.3.7. ¹⁴ It is possible that this refers to a statement made long before this episode, perhaps even to 210 when Chlaineas spoke to the Spartans. ¹⁵ Briscoe (1973) 129–33. ¹⁶ A similar view of Roman brutality is voiced by Philopoemen at 24.13.4–7.

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omnibus Graecis bellum est eritque; natura enim, quae perpetua est, non mutabilibus in diem causis hostes sunt. ‘Aetolians, Acarnanians, Macedonians, peoples sharing a common language, are united and disunited by trivial and transient issues; but all Greeks are eternally at war with foreigners, with barbarians. For they are enemies by nature, which is eternal, and for reasons unchanged day to day.’ (Livy 31.29.15)

The Macedonian speaker’s motive was to alienate the Romans and ingratiate the Macedonians before the coming fight. The Aetolians (and the audience) are reminded of the perpetual and long-established notion of the ‘war against the barbarian’, a recurring concept which helped define and redefine Greekness and Otherness.¹⁷ Yet, the opposite view is given in the Athenian counter-argument (Livy 31.30). The Athenians speak at the behest of the Romans, but also from the perspective of those who have recently suffered at the hands of the Macedonian king. Here Philip is described as cruel and ruthless, having savagely ravaged the countryside of Attica and its tombs and shrines the year before (200 ; cf. Livy 31.26). In 200, eight years after [Thrasycrates’] speech and the end of the First Macedonian War, Philip, according to Polybius’ model, has reached the zenith of his impiety and excess. He has concluded the pact with Antiochus in 203 to divide up Ptolemaic territory overseas (Plb. 15.20), has conquered and enslaved a number of Greek islands in the Aegean (Plb. 15.21–4), and destroyed the sacred groves of the Nicephorium in Pergamum (Plb. 16.1). As was indicated by Polybius at Thermum and Messene (5.10.11 and 7.11.11), we discover (from a passage surviving only in Livy) that the reputation of the king has changed as a consequence of his actions in the sixteen years since Messene (Livy 31.30.4):¹⁸ uerum enim vero id se queri, quod is, qui Romanos alienigenas et barbaros vocet, adeo omnia simul divina humanaque iura polluerit, ut priore populatione cum infernis deis, secunda cum superis bellum nefarium gesserit. ‘what they [the Athenians] were complaining about was that the man who was calling the Romans “foreigners” and “barbarians” had so desecrated all human and divine laws as to wage an impious war against the gods of the underworld on his first expedition [his destruction of Athenian tombs], and against the gods in heaven above on his second [his destruction of Attic shrines].’

The Athenian embassy criticizes Philip’s own labelling of the Romans as foreigners and barbarians as hypocritical and implies that his sacrilege against the gods of

¹⁷ For the concept of the war against the barbarian, see Mitchell (2007) 128–38, 169–202. ¹⁸ Briscoe (1973) 133–4.

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Greece makes him, and not the Romans, the barbarian. The pendulum has swung the other way: in the earlier speeches none of the Macedonian kings, while reviled by the Aetolians, had ever been called barbarians, even implicitly, by their enemies in Polybius’ narrative. By 200  this has changed and points to serious developments in the Greek perspective regarding the relative positions of Macedon and Rome in their world. In the following year, 198 , the Achaeans defect from Macedon, but not of course without long discussion and disagreement (see Chapter 3). In the speeches of 217 (Agelaus), 210 (Chlaineas/Lyciscus), 207 (Thrasycrates), and 200 (the Athenians), one side of the argument persistently depicts the Romans as barbarians and suggests that a widespread fear of the Italian power existed in the Greek world prior to and during the First and Second Macedonian Wars, and that there was the perceived need to resist their incursion into it. Yet, the consistency of this Roman barbarian image should raise suspicions.¹⁹ While the Greeks do not seem to have considered Rome an immediate problem in the mid-third century , by the turn of the century we see a growing apprehension and hostility towards the western power. Many Greeks at the time would have regarded the Romans as a barbaric people intent on enslaving the Greek world, a new menace akin to Persia that had to be kept out at all costs; others may not have viewed them quite so negatively (note Plb. 2.12.8 on the Romans being admitted to the Isthmian Games after the First Illyrian War). Philip himself, for instance, saw the Roman constitution and their method of providing for their veterans as a good example in his letter to the Larissans (Syll.³ 543). There was no single, or even distinct, image of Rome in the Greek world and attitudes towards them were divided throughout this period, as supported by the speeches above and Polybius’ later report of the four different Greek views on the Roman destruction of Carthage (36.9.1–10.1).²⁰ While the end of the third century  marked a definite shift in the reputation and reception of Macedon in the Greek world, the uncertainty of the Greeks regarding who to back was not fully settled, as seen by the divisions in the Achaean League and the reluctance of the Acarnanians and Boeotians to accept Roman hegemony in Chapter 3. At this point in time, Philip and the Romans were of equal suspicion in the Greek world and no doubt seemed to behave in very similar ways. The First and Second Macedonian Wars had highlighted the brutality and treachery of Roman power, yet Philip had also acted with underhandedness and ruthlessness in his treatment of Scerdilaidas, the Aegean islands, Pergamum, Athens, and Thessaly. As Eckstein has pointed out, Roman actions would have looked one way (i.e. brutal and barbaric) when viewed ¹⁹ See Gruen (1984) 323–4, who states that Polybius’ vision knits the themes of these speeches together. ²⁰ Cf. Gruen (1984) 316–56; Champion (2004) 2–7; Erskine (2013a) 120; and Moreno Leoni (2017) 58–61 for Romano-Greek contacts up until the second century and the Greek lack of knowledge about Roman customs.

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in isolation, but quite another when compared to the similar actions of other major states in the Mediterranean, in this case Macedon.²¹ It was no doubt difficult, therefore, for many Greek states to decide which of the two superpowers to follow, as well as to comprehend and explain why Rome ultimately succeeded against Macedon. Polybius himself notes that after the battle of Cynoscephalae, many of the Greeks thought the Macedonian defeat incredible and many still wondered how the phalanx was conquered by troops in Roman armour (Plb. 18.32.13). While a number of Greek communities decided to leave the Macedonian alliance in 198 (Epirus and the majority of the Achaean League), others did not (Argos, Acarnania, and Boeotia), and some reversed their decisions in the build-up to the Third Macedonian War (some of the Thessalians, Epirotes, and Boeotians).²² Those more reluctant to give up on Macedon may have seen this defection as part of the reason for the widespread failure of the Greek world to overcome this barbarian menace. Some may have thought that if the Greeks had been more steadfast in their support of the Macedonian king and remained united, and if the Aetolians had not betrayed their Greek heritage by allying themselves with Rome, then the Greek world might have triumphed against this insurrection of alien power.²³ Philip had acted in the role that the Macedonian kings had traditionally occupied for the last century—as the bulwark of Greece against barbarian insurgents. Yet, unexpectedly, Macedon had failed in this task and the barbarians had won, and the defeat had placed the Greeks under Roman— barbarian—rule. This complex of confusion, uncertainty, resentment, and surprise from the Greeks had to be acknowledged and dealt with by Polybius in his Histories if he was to make his own explanation of Roman supremacy persuasive.²⁴ By first recording varying views on the situation held by the Greeks, Polybius was therefore able to set up his own argument and incorporate his own answer into the historical narrative, as well as into contemporary discussions which no doubt still questioned why Macedon lost and whether the Greeks were right to side with Rome.²⁵ Moreover, by setting out these debates ²¹ Eckstein (2008) 73; cf. Hau (2016) 60 for the similar unthinking passion of Philip and the Roman commander Flamininus. ²² The relationship between Perseus of Macedon and the various Greek states before and during the war was complicated and depended more on local politics than anti-Roman or pro-Macedonian sentiments. The Greeks who sided with Perseus in this war include: the Aetolians (Livy 42.51.9, 42.55.9; 43.21.9–22.1; 44.43.6; 45.31.15; Plut. Aem. Paul. 23.3), the people of Aeginium in Thessaly (Plb. 30.7.5), the Molossians in Epirus (Plb. 30.7.2, 30.15; Livy 43.18.2, 21–3; 44.16.2; 45.26.3–5), and the Coroneans, Haliartians. and Thisbeans of the Boeotian League (Plb. 27.5; Livy 42.46.7–10). For the Greek division and indecision over this conflict, see Gruen (1984) 505–14. ²³ For Greek resistance to Rome between 217 and 86 , see Deininger (1971). ²⁴ For Polybius’ effort to focus on and preserve the different views of the Romans in his Histories, see Moreno Leoni (2017) 79–80. ²⁵ See Wiater (2018) 131–65 for Polybius’ similar engagement with the ‘polyphony’ of opinion surrounding the issue of who first broke the Roman–Carthaginian treaty that started the Second Punic War.

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in speech form, Polybius is setting them up in his narrative as they would really have taken place in the second half of the third century —as deliberative speeches that would have informed political decisions. This simple technique imitates the real political process and encourages the readers to experience the struggles and concerns of the Greeks first hand. It also, crucially, allows Polybius to distance himself from these views (as he puts them into the mouths of others and thereby removes himself from criticism from both sides), and to carry on this discussion and position his own arguments into the deliberative process—framing it as a political answer and not just a historical one.²⁶ His answer needed to demonstrate why Macedon could not quell the barbarian threat and why it was destroyed by it. In meeting this necessity, Polybius endeavoured to produce a narrative which alienated Macedon and Philip from the Greeks, while assimilating Rome into the Greek community. We have already seen how Polybius produced an exaggerated and unrealistic image of Philip that declines sharply after Messene and consistently threatens the Greek states. There is, however, another underlying dimension to this portrait which is connected to both the League and Rome: beyond the more straightforward political and military reasons given in his Histories, which have already received plenty of scholarly attention, Polybius also rationalizes this transition from Macedon to Rome in ideological terms, through cultural politics and the prism of Hellenism. While this cultural dimension is voiced implicitly, designations of Greekness and barbarity are frequent in the Histories, are key themes in the deliberative speeches outlined above, and, if we are to take them as at least preserving the gist of what was said, are part of the way that the Greeks framed and understood the larger powers of Macedon and Rome. Polybius does not offer an explicit answer to these debates about culture and may even be questioning the usefulness of such cultural designations in the new world and urging the reader to do the same. Yet, as a Greek speaking to Greeks just after the Roman conquest of the east his portrayal of the Romans and Macedonian king cannot be completely separated from this cultural dimension. His elite Greek background would have conditioned him to see the world in these terms and even though he seemingly adapts their meanings he still uses the concepts and criteria of Hellenism and barbarism to create an explanation for the rise of one power and the fall of the other. He constructs a narrative that encourages the reader to be involved in assessing the cultural implications of the events of the third and second centuries and the place of the Macedonian king and Romans within this new world.

²⁶ Polybius never explicitly calls the Romans barbarians himself: cf. Erskine (2000b) 171–2; Champion (2004) 193–202; and Gruen (2018) 15–16.

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The Missing Case of Macedon Rome’s depiction in Polybius’ work has already been thoroughly analysed by Andrew Erskine and Craige Champion. In 2000, Andrew Erskine argued that the Romans ‘appear both as different from Greeks and as different from the typical barbarian’, a separate category of people.²⁷ They exhibit some barbaric qualities, particularly in the early books of his work, e.g. the practice of decapitation (1.7.12), savagery after capturing a city (e.g. New Carthage: 10.15.4–5), shouting and banging of shields in battle (1.34.2, 15.12.8), the bizarre practice of women sweeping the floors of temples with their hair in times of crisis (9.6.3–4), and superstition (6.56.6–14).²⁸ But they also exhibit some distinctly unbarbaric, ‘civilized’ characteristics: rationality, order, and efficiency (e.g. in their set up of camp, 6.26.10–6.32, 6.41–3, and in their plundering of a city, 10.15.7–10, 16.2–9), and the primacy of the state and self-sacrifice (e.g. army discipline, 6.37, and the examples of bravery and sacrifice encouraged in Roman funerals and the story of Horatius Cocles, 6.53–5). Even in this ‘alternative’ category, the Romans could shift towards Hellenism and barbarism depending on the situation, the individual characters of the Roman commanders, and who they were described with or against. In 2004 Craige Champion contributed to this discussion of Rome’s position in Polybius’ work with his ground-breaking book Cultural Politics in Polybius’ Histories. Here, Champion persuasively argues for Polybius’ use of a narrative strategy that oscillates between a ‘cultural politics of assimilation’ that shifts the Romans into the Hellenic cultural commune, and a ‘cultural politics of alienation’ that distances them from it and aligns them more closely with the negative side of a Greek/barbarian spectrum. He claims that they sometimes appear as ‘honorary Greeks’ and at other times as ‘barbarians’, and thereby inhabit a position of cultural indeterminacy.²⁹ Polybius’ strategy of assimilation, it is argued, was primarily aimed at the Roman elite, while that of alienation was primarily targeted towards his Greek audience, since the latter were generally hostile towards the Romans, considered them barbarians, and may have preferred a more defiant stance. Erskine’s and Champion’s conclusions about the Romans’ cultural ambiguity in Polybius’ work, and his use of varying strategies of assimilation and alienation, are largely convincing.³⁰ However, no attempt was made to consider the picture of the Macedonian king in cultural political terms.³¹ One of the reasons for this omission ²⁷ Cf. Erskine (2000b) 165–82 and (2013a), esp. p. 124. ²⁸ For Roman brutality, see also Eckstein (1976) 131–42 and Harris (1979) 50–3. ²⁹ Cf. Champion (2000) 426–7 and Champion (2004) 47–57; and 193–203 for the Romans as barbarians. ³⁰ Cf. Moreno Leoni (2017) 79, who largely agrees with Champion, though seeing Polybius’ intention as more didactic than political. ³¹ Nor by further studies of Polybius’ use of cultural politics in the Histories: Smith & Yarrow (2012), Erskine (2013a) 115–29, Moreno Leoni (2014) 146–79, (2017) and (2020) 4–39, and Champion (2018) 35–42.

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may be that Macedon is a difficult case in discussions of cultural politics. Since the fourth century, the Macedonian kings had conversely been long-term allies/ benefactors and also long-term enemies of the Greeks as is outlined in the speeches above, and crucially they were also considered Greek at least by some at the time (cf. 9.37.7: Ἀχαιοὺς καὶ Μακεδόνας ὁμοφύλους). The past closeness of the kings to the Greek world makes Philip’s trajectory in cultural political terms and the changing Greek relationship with him more complicated. As a study of Polybius’ portrait of Philip V in his Histories, this chapter addresses this omission and offers an answer to how cultural politics was used by Polybius to depict and reposition the Macedonian king in the framework of the Mediterranean. Furthermore, while Champion argued that Polybius’ strategy of alienating Rome was aimed at his Greek audience, this investigation will show that there is in fact another important aim in Polybius’ work which rather encourages the Greeks to assimilate Rome into their community: his bid to justify the abandonment of the Macedonian alliance by the Achaean League in 198  (see Chapter 3 for details). Dyme, Megalopolis, and Argos had separated themselves from the League before the vote to leave was called (Livy 32.22.8–12) and, even though this decision had been advocated and made under the aegis of the Achaean leader, Aristaenus, a rival of Polybius’ mentor and hero Philopoemen, and his own father Lycortas, Polybius felt that he had to defend this exchange of friendship and alliance at 18.13.4–10:³² δῆλον γὰρ ὡς οὔτε τοὺς ἐξ ἀκεραίου συντιθεμένους τῶν ἀνδρῶν πρός τινας βασιλεῖς ἢ δυνάστας κοινωνίαν πραγμάτων εὐθέως προδότας νομιστέον, οὔτε τοὺς κατὰ τὰς περιστάσεις μετατιθέντας τὰς αὑτῶν πατρίδας ἀπό τινων ὑποκειμένων πρὸς ἑτέρας φιλίας καὶ συμμαχίας, οὐδὲ τούτους. πολλοῦ γε δεῖν: ἐπείτοι γε πολλάκις οἱ τοιοῦτοι τῶν μεγίστων ἀγαθῶν γεγόνασιν αἴτιοι ταῖς ἰδίαις πατρίσιν. ἵνα δὲ μὴ πόρρωθεν τὰ παραδείγματα φέρωμεν, ἐξ αὐτῶν τῶν ἐνεστώτων ῥᾳδίως ἔσται τὸ λεγόμενον κατανοεῖν. εἰ γὰρ μὴ σὺν καιρῷ τότε μετέρριψε τοὺς Ἀχαιοὺς Ἀρίσταινος ἀπὸ τῆς Φιλίππου συμμαχίας πρὸς τὴν Ῥωμαίων, φανερῶς ἄρδην ἀπολώλει τὸ ἔθνος. νῦν δὲ χωρὶς τῆς παρ᾽ αὐτὸν τὸν καιρὸν ἀσφαλείας ἑκάστοις περιγενομένης, αὐξήσεως τῶν Ἀχαιῶν ὁμολογουμένως ὁ προειρημένος ἀνὴρ κἀκεῖνο τὸ διαβούλιον αἴτιος ἐδόκει γεγονέναι: διὸ καὶ πάντες αὐτὸν οὐχ ὡς προδότην, ἀλλ᾽ ὡς εὐεργέτην καὶ σωτῆρα τῆς χώρας ἐτίμων. For it is evident that we must not immediately consider those men who engage in common action against certain kings and princes while matters are undecided as ³² For Philopoemen, see Errington (1969), O’Neal (1994) 31–5 for his policy towards Messene, and Anderson (1967) 104–6 for his reform of the Achaean army. For Polybius’ connection with and admiration for Philopoemen, see Plb. 2.40.2; 21.32c; 22.19; 23.12; 24.11–13; 39.3.3–11; Plut. Philop. 21; Foulon (1993) 333–79, Pédech (1951) 82–103 and Thornton (2020b) 27–8, 31–4, 42–4. For Polybius on Aristaenus and traitors, see Eckstein (1987a) 140–62, Golan (1996) 41–51 and Thornton (2020b) 63–7.

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traitors, nor those who, according to the circumstances, turn their countries away from existing relationships to other friendships and alliances. Far from it. For such men have often been responsible for conferring the greatest benefits on their own country. So that I do not speak about examples from long ago, we can easily observe what is being said from the present circumstances. For if Aristaenus had not in good time brought the Achaeans over from their alliance with Philip to the Romans, it is clear that the whole league would have been utterly destroyed. And now, apart from the resulting safety of each member of the League at this time, this man and his counsel were universally acknowledged to be responsible for the increase of Achaean power. So that everyone honoured him, not as a traitor, but as a benefactor and saviour of his country.

Just as the Aetolians were viewed as traitors for allying with the Romans in the First Macedonian War (11.4.10–5.9), so the Achaean League could be seen by some as betraying Greek culture. What was at stake, therefore, was the standing of the Achaean League, but also, crucially, the standing of Polybius himself. Consequently, he needed to show that the Achaeans still embodied Greek excellence and represented freedom, autonomy, and justice despite being attached to a non-Greek hegemonic power. And he did this by traditional Greek means, by arguing that this new dominant power, Rome, was now more Greek in behaviour than the previous one, Macedon.

Polybius’ Answer: Cultural Politics, Hellenism, and Barbarism Notions about Hellenicity and barbarity had been embedded in Greek thought and identity since at least the sixth century , and resounded, crystallized, and reformulated constantly in the subsequent centuries with the Persian Wars, Peloponnesian War, rise of Macedon, and spread of Hellenic culture following the conquests of Alexander.³³ We are most familiar with Athenian Hellenism, so tightly bound up with anti-tyrannical, anti-Persian, and pro-imperial rhetoric; however, the acknowledgement of difference between Greek and ‘other’ was universally recognized in the Greek community and fostered by the Panhellenic sanctuaries, kinship diplomacy, and wars against outside peoples.³⁴ In its most basic form, Hellenism was constructed around common descent (real or imagined), language, religious institutions and observances, and a

³³ For an earlier discussion of Polybius’ formulation of Hellenism and barbarism, see Nicholson (2020) 38–73. For the emergence and development of the Hellenic community, see Hall (1989); Harrison (2002) 3–4; Nippel (2002) 278–310; Mitchell (2007), esp. 39–76; Champion (2004) 31–40. For the development of Hellenic identity and culture over time, see Browning (2002) 257–77; for a survey of barbarism and ethnography in the Greek world see Moreno Leoni (2017) 61–71. ³⁴ See Mitchell (2015) 49–65 and Scott (2010) for the sanctuaries and Panhellenism.

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common way of life highly concerned with political freedom and autonomy (Hdt. 1.57.2–3, 8.144; Thuc. 2.68.5). Barbarism, on the other hand, represented foreignness, non-Greek language, and non-Greek religious and social customs (Hdt. 1.57.2–3: βάρβαρος γλῶσσα; cf. Thuc. 1.6.1).³⁵ This dichotomy was never, however, a straightforward one. While non-Greek peoples were at times conceived as a homogeneous group (see Aesch. Pers. 434; Soph. fr. 587; Eur. And. 173), they were also given more specific and differentiating stereotypes which muddied this distinction: the Persians, for instance, were often connected with wealth, luxury, softness of character and body, tyrannical rule, and slavery (e.g. Aesch. Pers. 226–46, Hdt. 9.122.3, Aristoph. Acharn. 80–3, Arist. Pol. 1285a14–22, Xen. Hell. 4.1.29–39); the Egyptians, on the other hand, with savagery, corruption, and covetousness (Pl. Rep. 4.436a; Plb. 15.33.10–11); the Carthaginians with human sacrifice, jealousy, and domination (Diod. 20.14.4–7; Plut. Mor. 171c–d; Plb. 9.11.2–3); the Gauls with drunkenness, passion, and irrationality (Diod. 5.26; Cic. Pro Front. passim); and the Thracians with naivety, ferocity, and corruption (Pl. Resp. 435e; Arist. [Pr.] 911a2–4). Furthermore, despite the Persian Wars heightening the contrast between eastern luxury and despotism and Greek simplicity and democracy, and creating a sense of Greek superiority (cf. Aeschylus Persians 472), a few decades later even in Athens this distinction had weakened and become more sophisticated: Herodotus expressed little concern for the cultural separation between Greeks and barbarians and was rather more nuanced in drawing out difference;³⁶ Thucydides equally took a more relative approach and thought it possible to be more or less ‘Greek’, or more or less ‘barbarian’ (see, for instance, the Aetolians (1.5.3–6.2) and Eurytanians (3.9.4.4–5)); Euripides similarly problematized the Greek–barbarian dichotomy by describing some Greeks as barbaric and some barbarians as noble (cf. his Andromache which turns the Spartans into barbarians),³⁷ even calling the Aetolians ‘half barbarian half Greek’ in his Phoenician Women (138: μειξοβάρβαροι). Xenophon later too used the Persian constitution as a model of the ideal kingship in his Cyropaideia, but at the same time connected the Persian people with negative barbarian stereotypes in his Agesilaus.³⁸ Isocrates famously thought it better to reframe the criteria for inclusion into the Hellenic community, ‘the name of the Greeks’, he stated, ‘suggests no longer a race (genos) but an intelligence, and that to be called “Greeks” is given rather to those who share in our culture than to those who share a common nature’ (Panegyricus 50).³⁹ Peoples and cities which had not previously been considered ‘Greek’ were also able to become Greek through ancestral and kinship links in the fifth and fourth centuries (cf. the Macedonians and the ³⁵ Cf. Browning (2002) 259; Mitchell (2007) 19–23. ³⁶ For the complexity of Herodotus’ views on the Greeks and Persians, see Hartog (1988) and Pelling (1997) 51–66. ³⁷ See Hall (1989) ch. 5 for barbaric Greeks and noble barbarians. ³⁸ Harrison (2002) 4. ³⁹ See Browning (2002) 260; Champion (2004) 31–6.

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Molossians, and the city of Aspendus).⁴⁰ As is the case with all ideological concepts, therefore, this dichotomy was far from lucid or stable, and was frequently revised to accommodate a more nuanced approach to cultural difference. In the third and second centuries, there was still an emphasis on similarity and difference in defining Hellenism and barbarism, and the label of barbarian generally still continued to hold negative connotations. The complaint of a non-Greek on a papyrus in third-century Egypt about not receiving pay because of his ‘barbarian’ status and inability ‘to speak or act like a Greek’ (ἑλληνίζειν) speaks to their continued relevance in everyday life.⁴¹ However, with the intensified contacts between Greek and non-Greek peoples following Alexander’s conquests, these notions increasingly shifted away, in more intellectual circles at least, from concerns over ethnicity to characteristics and qualities of a people. Eratosthenes of Cyrene, for instance, found the straight division between Greek and barbarian dissatisfactory and asserted that: ‘it would be better to make such divisions according to good qualities and bad qualities; for not only are many of the Greeks bad, but many of the barbarians are refined . . .’ (Strabo 1.4.9: βέλτιον εἶναί φησιν ἀρετῇ καὶ κακίᾳ διαιρεῖν ταῦτα. πολλοὺς γὰρ καὶ τῶν Ἑλλήνων εἶναι κακοὺς καὶ τῶν βαρβάρων ἀστείους). While the basic signifiers of ‘Hellenic/civilized’ or ‘barbaric/uncivilized’ status remained the same—shared culture and descent—for Polybius the characteristics of a people were equally important in defining their Hellenic or barbaric nature. He never provides a comprehensive list of what the different Hellenic or barbaric qualities are, but they become apparent in the course of his narrative. Hellenic qualities, most clearly and frequently found in the Achaeans (2.38.6–55), include: reason (λογισμός), justice (δικαία), courage (ἀνδρεία), concern for law, order, equality, and freedom, and the primacy of the state over the individual.⁴² Barbaric qualities are often found in the Celts, Illyrians, Thracians, and mercenaries, include: injustice (ἀδικία), irrationality (ἀλογιστία), excessive passion (θυμός), savagery (ὠμός), licentiousness (ἀσέλγεια), lawlessness (παρανομία), greed (πλεονεξία), and the primacy of the individual over the state. Barbaric peoples are ruled by thumos (passion) and are sometimes described as turning into ‘wild beasts’ (ἀπoθηριοῦσθαι) or worse than animals in their madness, savagery, and ferocity (Plb. 1.67.6, cf. 1.81.5–11; cf. Livy 42.59.2). They are typically associated with a lack of education, drunkenness, are sources of fear, and considered a threat to orderly ⁴⁰ Macedonian claims to Hellenic cultural legitimacy were first expressed by the Argead king Amyntas I at the beginning of the fifth century and continued throughout the Classical and Hellenistic periods. See p. 166 n. 5 for references and Borza (1982) 113–23, Hammond (1989) 16–21, and Mitchell (2007) 204–5. For the Molossian claims to Hellenism through a mythical genealogical connection to Achilles, see Pindar, Nem. 4.51–3, 7.38–40 and Paean 6.98–121; cf. Eur. And. 1243–6; Plut. Pyrrh. 1; and Mitchell (2007) 205–6. For Aspendos, see Curty no. 3; Strabo 14.4.2; Arrian, Anab. 1.26.2–3, 26.5–27.4; and Mitchell (2007) 203. For Greek ethnicity, see Malkin (2001). For kinship myths and diplomacy, see Jones (1999) and Patterson (2010). ⁴¹ P. Col. 4 66 = Austin no. 307; c.256–255 . ⁴² For these ‘Hellenic’ qualities in Polybius, see Champion (2004) 68–9, 122–9, and 255–9 for logismos in Polybius.

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and free society (2.35.1–10).⁴³ Freedom, slavery, democracy, and tyranny were equally still connected with cultural status. As outlined in Chapter 1, the Achaean League is described as a democratic confederation (although not the radical democracy of Athens) constantly fighting for freedom, equality, humanity, and democratic rule, and against tyranny in the Peloponnese in the 230s (2.38.6–44.6). The label of ‘tyrant’, moreover, continued to be used as a slur by Polybius against monarchs: we might note his changing descriptions of Cleomenes III of Sparta, who is a ‘king’ in a neutral setting (2.45.2; 4.1.6; 5.9.8) or when acting with courage and reason in Egypt against the machinations of the courtier Sosibius (5.35–9), but a ‘tyrant’ when he has changed the Spartan constitution into a ‘tyranny’ and joined the war with the Aetolians against the Achaean League (2.45.2–70.3; 4.81.12–14).⁴⁴ Polybius seems, therefore, to conceive of cultural definition as a loose space between at least two positions (Greek and non-Greek) just like his fifth- and fourth-century predecessors. The Achaeans, as outlined above, tended to represent the peak of Greek excellence in his Histories and the Celts, Illyrians, and Thracians the peak of barbarity. Just as in the fifth century with Thucydides, the Aetolians are presented as ‘less’ Greek than others, and the Spartans and Cretans as ‘a sort of internal Greek “Other” ’.⁴⁵ The Cynaethans, and Boeotians have become part of this group as they are said to behave in a less Greek and more ‘non-Greek’ or ‘barbaric’ manner, exhibiting greed, faithlessness, treachery, savagery, cruelty, lawlessness, and tyrannical behaviour. They occupy, therefore, a more confusing middle ground.⁴⁶ The Romans (and Carthaginians) also inhabit a messy ⁴³ For the barbarian category in Polybius’ thought and their characteristics and threat to society, see Eckstein (1995b) 119–25; Erskine (2000b) 168–9; Champion (2004) 67–9, 70–5; and Moreno Leoni (2017) 71–7. For Polybius’ concern for the destabilizing impact of mercenaries on society, see Eckstein (1995b) 125–29 and Isayev (2017) 296–307. For his depiction of mercenaries during the war against Carthage, see also Roveri (1964) 122–4. ⁴⁴ Nabis of Sparta also points out the changing uses of ‘king’ and ‘tyrant’ in his interview with the Roman commander T. Quinctus Flamininus (Livy 34.31.11–13; for Flamininus’ answer see 34.32.1–4). ⁴⁵ The Aetolians are greedy, lustful for plunder and aggrandizement, reckless, the long-term enemy of the exemplary Achaeans (e.g. Plb. 2.43.9–10, 45.1, 46.3, 47.4, 49.3; 4.3.1–4, 5.5, etc.), beasts (4.3.1) and non-Greeks (Philip V in 198 : 18.5.8; Livy 32.34.4n.) for raiding friends and enemies indiscriminately. Any people attached to the Aetolians are similarly tainted in Polybius’ eyes; cf. the Spartans in the Cleomenean War in 229–222 (2.45.2–70.3) and Social War in 220–217  (4.26–36, 57–87; 5.1–30, 91–105), and the Cynaethans (4.17.3–21.11) and Boeotians (20.5.1). For Polybius’ Aetolians, see Sacks (1975) 92–106, Mendels (1984–6) 63–73, Champion (2004) 129–35, and Champion (2007) 356–62. The Spartans, while successful under their mixed Lycurgan constitution (6.3.7, 10.1–14), are negatively affected by the transformation of their state into a ‘tyranny’ in the reign of Cleomenes III—a description encouraged by this king’s aim to conquer the Peloponnese and Achaean League (Plb. 2.47.3; cf. Livy (P) 34.31–2, 35, 36–7). While the Cretans have a political system similar to the traditional Spartan constitution, they are greedy, ‘the only people in the world in whose eyes no gain is disgraceful’ (ὥστε παρὰ μόνοις Κρηταιεῦσι τῶν ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων μηδὲν αἰσχρὸν νομίζεσθαι κέρδος.), treacherous, unjust (δολιώτερα . . . ἀδικωτέρας), and constantly suffer from internal strife (6.46.1–47.6). Cf. Pelling (1997) 54–5. ⁴⁶ The Cynaethans demonstrate ‘savagery’ (ἀγριότητος), cruelty (ὡμότητι), and lawlessness (παρανομίᾳ) following their abandonment of the tempering practice of music and are racked with civil strife (4.19.13–21.8). The Boeotians have declined politically and socially since they detached themselves from the Achaeans, attached themselves to the Aetolians, allowed wealth and luxury to

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middle position in Polybius’ Histories, since they display traits both typical and atypical of the barbarian (brutality, strange customs, and superstition vs. reason, bravery, discipline, moderation, and self-sacrifice for the state).⁴⁷

Hellenism, Barbarism, and the Cycle of Constitutions For Polybius, the status and character of a people, their Hellenic or barbaric quality, was to a large degree determined by their politico-social context, their politeia and customs, and the kind of characteristics it encouraged in its citizens (reason, justice, duty, courage, lawfulness, freedom, etc.).⁴⁸ This connection is established in Book 6 of his Histories, where he identifies six types of politeiai and divides them into three ‘good’ and three ‘bad’ forms (along similar lines to Arist. Pol. 1279a16, 1279a32–1279b4, 1287b36, 1310b40): kingship, aristocracy, and democracy represent the ‘good’ politeiai, as each ruling body governs for the sake and interests of the whole. These good forms encourage the qualities of reason, justice, duty, courage, lawfulness, order, equality, and freedom in its people. Tyranny, oligarchy, and ochlocracy, on the other hand, represent the ‘bad’ as the ruling bodies govern for the sake and interest of themselves.⁴⁹ These three negative types of politeia inspire the qualities of irrationality, passion, savagery, licentiousness, unlawfulness, greed, selfishness, and lack of restraint. Champion noted a persistent and pervasive lexical convergence in Polybius’ descriptions of political degeneration and barbarian peoples, and, while he focuses primarily on the close sematic parallel between Polybian ochlocracy and Polybian barbarians, these same features (injustice, ἀδικία, graspingness and false pretension, ἀλαζονεία, greed, πλεονεξία, irrationality or lack of reasoning, ἀλογία, lawlessness, παρανομία, and becoming beastlike/displaying animal savagery ἀποθηρέομαι/θηριώδης, and the dominance of thumos, passion) feature

infiltrate their society, and stopped administering justice (20.4–7). For Polybius’ Boeotians, see Feyel (1942); McGing (2010) 192–3; and Müller (2013) 267–78; see also pp. 156–9 of this volume for their attachment to the Macedonian royal house. ⁴⁷ The Carthaginians too may have featured in this alternative category, particularly before their confrontation with Rome, since Polybius states that their politeia was once of a similar excellence to that of the Romans but had declined before the Punic Wars (6.51). For this ambiguity in Roman identity and ethnographic writing, see Dench (1995) and (2005). ⁴⁸ Cf. Champion (2004) 67–9, 83–90. For Polybius’ definition of politeia as more than just the political constitution of a state, but also its military apparatus, social customs and culture, and position in the international world, see Champion (2004) 75–84, Erskine (2013c) 233–35 and Champion (2013) 143–58. For the importance of customs for Polybius in determining cultural status, see Moreno Leoni (2017) 67–77. Polybius is in agreement with other Greek writers such as Xenophon, Plato, and Aristotle. ⁴⁹ The main difference between Aristotle and Polybius is that for Aristotle ‘democracy’ represents the bad form of mass rule and ‘polity’ represents the good. While the terms used are different, however, there is little difference in their natures. For Polybius’ debt to Aristotle, see Pocock (1975) 66–80, and Nippel (1994) 7–10, and Nelson (2004) 3–4 for the problems of this association.

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prominently in the constitutions of oligarchy and tyranny as well (cf. Plb. 6.7–8; cf. Hdt. 3.16, 25, 27–38, 73–4, 80, 89 where the archetypal tyrant is a barbarian, Cambyses).⁵⁰ In Polybius’ mind, therefore, the tyrannical, oligarchic, and ochlocratic constitutions tended towards barbarism, and their good counterparts towards Hellenism. In Polybius’ mind too, it was also possible to become more Greek as one could become more barbarian, as indicated by his description of the decline of the Spartans, Cynaethans, Boeotians, and Carthaginians, and the political ascendancy of the Achaean League and the Romans. All states, he theorized, revolved naturally, inevitably, and sequentially through the six types of politeiai (Plb. 6.3–10) in a cycle (anacyclosis): moving from kingship to tyranny, aristocracy, oligarchy, democracy, and ochlocracy (mob rule), before returning to kingship.⁵¹ Theoretically, therefore, over the course of its life a state would oscillate between the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ forms, between Hellenic and barbaric quality, in cycling through this process.⁵² In practice, the transformation of political types did not always conform to this cycle, and even in the narrative section of his Histories this is clear.⁵³ Yet what is important here is that Polybius thought such change inevitable, that states switched between good and bad forms, that a change in an institution changed the character of a state, its people, and its overall success in domestic and international affairs, and that there were general rules for how this happened. While it is difficult to ascertain where and how far each state may have been placed and shifted in Polybius’ own ideological conception of them within the course of this Histories (118 years), it is possible to observe a distinct change in the way that the Macedonian king and the Romans are described, as we will see below. For the most part, Greeks and Romans emerge as the bearers of reason (logismos) against the irrational passion (thumos) of their opponents in Polybius’ work; the Macedonians, on the other hand, as variously viewed as Greeks and non-Greeks, occupy a more complex position, and emerge as practitioners of both depending on the context.⁵⁴ The next section will thus demonstrate that just as the portrayal of Rome in terms of their Hellenism and barbarism, their good and bad government and cultural make-up, is important in Polybius’ explanation of their overall success, so too is it for the portrait of Philip V and ⁵⁰ For tyranny, see discussion below pp. 190–3. For oligarchy, see Plb. 6.8.4–6: . . . ὁρμήσαντες οἱ μὲν ἐπὶ πλεονεξίαν καὶ φιλαργυρίαν ἄδικον, οἱ δ᾽ ἐπὶ μέθας καὶ τὰς ἅμα ταύταις ἀπλήστους εὐωχίας, οἱ δ᾽ ἐπὶ τὰς τῶν γυναικῶν ὕβρεις καὶ παίδων ἁρπαγάς, μετέστησαν μὲν τὴν ἀριστοκρατίαν εἰς ὀλιγαρχίαν . . . ⁵¹ For Polybius’ anacyclosis politeion see e.g. Walbank HCP I, 635–746; Pédech (1964) 303–30; Trompf (1979) 1–115; Alonso-Núñez (1986) 17–22; and Champion (2004) 67–99. Polybius knew and was influenced by Plato’s discussions of constitutions since he notes how Plato’s descriptions of each type of government are lengthier but also more difficult to access (6.5.1–2). ⁵² For this oscillation between Hellenism and barbarism, see Champion (2004) 6, 58–9, 68. ⁵³ For instance, the Achaean League turned from a tyranny into a democracy, skipping aristocracy and oligarchy (2.41.4–5), and Sparta changed from a mixed constitution into a tyranny (2.47.3). ⁵⁴ Champion (2004) 70–2.

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the explanation of his failure. It will discuss how the politeia and Hellenic/ barbarian image of the two powers work in tandem in Polybius’ Histories to offer an additional layer of explanation for their exchange of power and position.

Part 2: Hellenic Rome, Barbaric Macedon The Romans: Barbarians to Hellenes (264–200 ) In 2000, Erskine demonstrated how the Romans were described as barbarians when opposed to the Greeks in the Histories, but Greek-like when acting with or for the Greeks or when militarily successful against other ‘barbarians’ (e.g. the Gauls and Carthaginians).⁵⁵ In 2004, Champion reinforced the connection between the Romans’ cultural status in the Histories and their relationship with the Greeks by showing how Polybius used the notions of Hellenism and barbarism, and their close connection to the forms of politeia, to assimilate and alienate the Romans to/from the Greek community. The Romans are distanced as the historian implicitly recalls their barbarian status (cf. 5.104; 9.9, 37.6–7, 38.5; 11.5.7; 12.4b; Livy (P) 31.29.15), while also brought closer to it as he highlights the brilliance of aristocratic Roman values, many of which were consistent with ‘Hellenic’ ideals (reason, order, bravery, perseverance, frugality, and self-sacrifice).⁵⁶ The constitution’s mixed form also made it more stable and impervious to change and its current compilation of the three ‘good’ forms of governance (kingship, aristocracy, and democracy) created a state working for the interests of its citizens and steadier in its Hellenic features as each of the three parts checked the power of the others, preventing deterioration and barbaric conduct (Plb. 6.11–18, 51.6–8).⁵⁷ It was because of their politeia, good governance, and cultivation of admirable characteristics that the Romans succeeded in conquering the whole Mediterranean in the third and second centuries .⁵⁸ Yet, even a mixed constitution would naturally rise and fall, if in a slower fashion than an unmixed one, as Polybius indicates when he compares Rome with the similarly mixed constitution of Carthage (Plb. 6.51).⁵⁹ At the end of his discussion of the Roman constitution there is also the implication that this too ⁵⁵ See also Erskine (2000b) 173–4. ⁵⁶ See Champion (2004) ch. 3, 67–99 for Rome’s association with Hellenism in Polybius. ⁵⁷ For mixed constitutions, see von Fritz (1954), Nippel (1980) and (1994) 6–26. See also Lintott (1999) 16–26, 214–20 and Seager (2013) 247–54 for Polybius’ account of the Roman mixed constitution. Millar (1984) 1–19, (1986) 1–11, and (1998) challenged the idea of a democratic element in the Roman constitution; this view has prompted much debate and disagreement (see e.g. Hōlkeskamp (2000) 203–33). ⁵⁸ It could be compared with the excellence of the mixed Spartan regime established by Lycurgus, which also enjoyed long-term stability, produced order, bravery, efficiency, concord, and self-sacrifice in its citizens (6.3.5–8, 10.1–14, 48.1–50.6), and the same with the Carthaginian (6.51.1–52.6). ⁵⁹ Cf. Eckstein (1995b) 129–40 for Polybius’ hostility towards the masses and ochlocracy.

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will decline, as all things are subject to decay and change (Plb. 6.57.1–9), and we start to see the beginnings of this decline from Book 18 of the Histories. However, the Roman constitution was at its best in Polybius’ eyes during the Hannibalic War in the years 218–201  (Plb. 6.11.1–2). The earlier wars against the Carthaginians, Illyrians, and Celts had developed and honed the Romans’ rationality, discipline, and moderation in the face of the unrestrained passion, treachery, unpredictability, and greed of their enemies.⁶⁰ They had been tested by the violence and irrationality of barbaric forces and won, and could, therefore, be seen in more Hellenic terms than barbaric ones.⁶¹ It was not until the Hannibalic War, however, that this Hellenic quality reached its peak when the Romans’ reason, discipline, courage, and perseverance enabled them to overcome a catastrophic defeat at the battle of Cannae in 216 , win the war in 201 , and ultimately obtain universal dominance (Plb. 3.118.5–10). Tellingly, the portrait of the Achaean League parallels this rise of Roman virtue in Polybius’ narrative.⁶² In Books 1–5, which offers accounts of the years 264–217 , both states come to their constitutional peak at the same time through their high principles: as outlined in Chapter 1, in these years the Achaeans are depicted as highly concerned with law, order, equality, and freedom, a result of their democratic politeia, which encourages reason and a sense of collective responsibility. Because of this good governance, the League is equally successful in expanding its power and influence over the Peloponnese at the end of the third century (Plb. 2.37–44) and in strengthening its military capacity to such an extent that it no longer needs Macedonian aid in 207 against Aetolia and Sparta (Plb. 11.8.1–10.9; Livy 31.25.2–11). In the same period as the Romans, therefore, the Achaeans epitomize Polybius’ Hellenic ideal and are successful because of it. This paralleling implicitly draws the Romans into a relationship with Hellenic excellence. The parallel continues as both Rome and Achaea start to decline after 201 , a year which sees the end of the Second Punic War and the loss of Philopoemen’s leadership in Achaean politics (Livy 31.25.3: he leaves for Crete).⁶³ This decline escalates after the defeat of Perseus in the Third Macedonian War in 168  due to the influx of wealth, luxury, and ambition in Rome (Plb. 31.25.2–7) and the prominence of treacherous and demagogic leadership in the Achaean League following the deportation of 1,000 Greeks to Rome (Polybius included), the rise of Callicrates (Plb. 24.8.6–10.15; 29.23–25.1; 30.13.4–11, 29.1–7, 32.12), and later ⁶⁰ See e.g. Plb. 1.6.4–8, 17.11–12, 38.5–6, 59.2–7, 64.6; 2.11.5–12.6, 18.1–22.1; 3.51.2–11. Cf. Erskine (2000b) 173–4 and Champion (2004) 105–22. ⁶¹ Cf. Champion (2004) 105–22. ⁶² For the parallel in the development of Achaea and Rome, see Champion (2004) 6, but especially ch. 4, ‘Akme Politeion: Roman and Achaean Virtues’ pp. 100–43, and ch. 5. ‘Metabole Politeion: Roman and Achaean Degeneration in the Fragmentary Books’, pp. 144–69. This is reinforced in Champion (2013) 127–8. ⁶³ For the parallel decline of Rome and Achaea, see Champion (2004) 144–69.

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Critolaus and Diaeus (38.10.8–13, 11.3–11, 12.7–13.8,14.3). Their decline proceeds in accordance with the political theory laid out in Book 6 and follows a general narrative pattern of increasing political and social degeneration in the Mediterranean as the barbaric characteristics of self-interest, irrationality, and passion begin to proliferate society.⁶⁴ By connecting and paralleling the development of the Achaeans and Romans in his Histories, Polybius not only made the Italian power less alien to his Greek audience, but also reformulated the Romans into the Hellenic community in such a way as to be acceptable to both Greeks and Romans. The political situation in the second century  was one unfamiliar to both: the Greeks had to come to terms with the uncomfortable fact that they were now subject to a state which in many ways they considered barbaric; and the Romans had to accommodate and attempt to fit into the complex cultural past of their Greek allies and subjects to legitimize and maintain their position.⁶⁵ This cultural reassessment of the Romans would have a corresponding adverse effect on the cultural position of Roman enemies in the Histories, both to allow for this refashioning and to appease and observe the attitudes of its Roman audience: what remains to be shown is how this works in the case of the ‘semi-Greek’ state of Macedon. What we can detect from the outset, however, is that the joint Roman and Achaean rise in good government and Hellenic characteristics bears a reverse correlation, temporally and narratologically, with the key points of Philip’s life and development in the Histories.

The Greekness and Barbarity of Philip V Unlike the Romans and the Greeks, in order to address Polybius’ portrait of the Macedonians in cultural politics terms we must focus on the individual rather than the collective.⁶⁶ The state of Macedon was seen by many Greek writers from at least the fifth century onwards as comprising and being represented by the king; little is said about the Macedonian people and Polybius is no different in this regard. In fact, as one of his primary aims was to educate future leaders (1.1.1), Polybius would also have had a greater tendency to focus on the governing bodies and leaders of states (in this instance, the monarch, philoi, and nobility) rather than the people or masses, for which he holds little respect or interest.⁶⁷ Moreover, ⁶⁴ For Polybius on decline, see Walbank (1980) 41–58 = (2002) 193–211. For the issue of wealth in Polybius, see Eckstein (1995b) 70–82. ⁶⁵ Champion (2004) 3; Erskine (2013a) 119–26; and Moreno Leoni (2017) 87–9. ⁶⁶ The discussion of Philip’s Greekness and barbarity presented here is an expansion on ideas explored in a preliminary study; see Nicholson (2020) 38–73 for their earlier formulation. ⁶⁷ The Macedonian elite were also the individuals who worked most closely with the Greeks, just as the Senate did in Rome; note the involvement of Philip’s commanders and philoi, Taurion, Apelles, Leontius, and Megaleas in Peloponnesian affairs at 4.10, 19, 24, 76, 82, 84–7 and 5.1–2, 7, 14–16, 26–7. It is possible that Polybius is talking about the Macedonians as a group, both elite and masses, when he

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Polybius believed that in cities where strong individuals are in power any changes in the disposition of these individuals would result in a change in the character of their respective constitutions and people (9.23.8–9),⁶⁸ and this was even more the case with monarchs. In Polybius’ mind, therefore it was Philip V’s character, leadership, and conduct which determined the condition of Macedon, its constitution, and people (9.23.9; cf. Plb. 7.11; 15.20.5–8). Consequently, to ascertain Polybius’ use of cultural politics in portraying the Macedonian state we turn to his depiction of the Macedonian king. Finally, to comprehend Polybius’ explanation of Philip’s fall in the face of Roman might in ideological terms, we will need to start once more at the beginning of the Histories and document the descriptors Polybius used for the king from his succession up until his defeat by Rome in 197 . This date marks the point at which Philip and the Romans had undergone a complete reversal in terms of their role and reputation in the Greek world. Cataloguing these descriptors and their change over the course of Polybius’ narrative will allow us to observe how Philip is depicted as declining from a king embodying good government and Hellenic virtue into a tyrant embodying bad government and barbaric qualities in this period, as well as to test the applicability of Polybius’ theory of constitutions with respect to his description of the Macedonian state in this period.

Philip’s Early Years: Kingship and Hellenism (221–215 ) Six years after his accession, at the conclusion of the Social War in 217, the Macedonian king sits squarely in the position of a hegemon leading the Greeks on a Panhellenic venture to ward off the new barbarian in the west (Plb. 5. 104–5).⁶⁹ Philip holds the responsibility for leading, protecting, and promoting the Hellenic community, and is thereby shown to align with and embody Hellenic qualities in Polybius’ narrative. In Book 7, as we saw in previous chapters, this Hellenic quality is further emphasized as Philip is labelled by Polybius as the ἐρώμενος . . . τῶν Ἑλλήνων, the ‘darling’ or ‘beloved’ of the Greeks (Plb. 7.11.8). Such a title has more significance than merely proclaiming how beloved Philip was to the Greeks, however, since eromenos has very specific connotations associated with traditional

records that the Macedonians cursed Philip for his transmigration policy in the 180s (23.10.4–7). However, the exact make-up of this group is uncertain, and it could relate to those noble Macedonians whom Philip subsequently executes (23.10.8–11). ⁶⁸ Plb. 9.23.8–9: . . . ὥστε καὶ τὰ τῶν πόλεων ἔθη ταῖς τῶν προεστώτων διαφοραῖς συμμεταπίπτειν. Φίλιππος δ᾽ ὁ βασιλεύς, ὅτε μὲν Ταυρίων ἢ Δημήτριος αὐτῷ συμπράττοιεν, ἦν ἀσεβέστατος, ὅτε δὲ πάλιν Ἄρατος ἢ Χρυσόγονος, ἡμερώτατος. . . . so that the character of cities also changes with that of those who govern them. And King Philip, when Taurion and Demetrius advised him, he was most wicked, but when again Aratus or Chrysogonus, he was most gentle. ⁶⁹ The Panhellenic sentiment in this speech bears a strong resemblance to that given by Isocrates to Philip II in his Letter to Philip. Because of this, it is difficult to determine whether the Panhellenism in it was a genuine historical feature of Agelaus’ speech and the conference at the time or brought out by Polybius to emphasize the perceived threat of Rome and the beginning of the symploke. Cf. pp. 105–6 for discussion.

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Hellenic ideals.⁷⁰ The term refers to a young aristocratic man, usually of an age before he has grown his first beard and when he is undergoing political and military training (c.15–17 years old but sometimes older) and it is frequently connected with pederasty and an older erastes. While such a relationship could contain a sexual element, its primary purpose was pedagogical: an ideal erastes–eromenos relationship introduced and educated the young man in the military, political, and social context of elite Greek society, and was meant to produce a citizen of good moral character, representing the Hellenic ideal, who would reinforce and bring stability to aristocratic circles and the wider Greek community.⁷¹ The fact that Polybius uses this term, which has such close connections with Hellenism, when talking about Philip is not coincidental. It is a deliberate choice, since even Polybius admits that it is not something that needs to be said and is also somewhat exaggerated (Plb. 7.11.8). It must therefore reflect Polybius’ view that the king inhabited a position with strong Hellenic features at the beginning of his reign. While no specific individual but the Greeks as a whole are named as the counterpart, such a profile still fits the king in these early stages. Philip came to the throne at 17 and had previously undergone his political and military training under the guidance of his Macedonian guardians but also Aratus of Sicyon, to whom he had been encouraged to attach himself by his predecessor and uncle, Antigonus Doson (cf. Plut. Arat. 46.1). This connection to the League was meant to encourage familiarity with Achaean politics, to educate Philip in the customs of the Greek elite and in the diplomatic skills that he would need to deal with his Greek allies, and to foster personal connections with its leaders.⁷² Furthermore, Aratus and the Achaean League represented, as Champion has demonstrated, the Hellenic ideal in Polybius’ narrative, so Philip can be seen to have been directly influenced by those who embraced and promoted this ideal from the very beginning. In the first phase of his reign, Philip is described by Polybius as showing many of the qualities included in his ideas about Hellenic behaviour and kingship. In the king’s first diplomatic venture dealing with Spartan unrest in 220, Philip is shown to handle the situation and the wavering loyalty of the Ephors in a reasonable and thoughtful manner (Plb. 4.22–4): after consulting his counsellors, Philip concludes that it would not be right to treat the Spartans unmercifully and cruelly (ἀπαραίτητον, ἀνήτεστον) on this occasion because they had not injured the whole Hellenic alliance, had agreed to remain faithful to their obligations to himself, and had been treated leniently by his predecessor after their defeat at Sellasia (Plb. 4.22–4). Later in the same year, before the declaration of war against Aetolia, ⁷⁰ The term eromenos also appears at Plb. 5.28.6–8 and 31.25.4–5. For this term and its connotations in Polybius’ Histories, see Nicholson (2018b) 241–55. ⁷¹ Cf. Xen. Cyr. for another ironic story of a non-Greek (Cyrus) displaying Greek virtues, before becoming more ‘Persian’ after capturing Babylon. ⁷² See D’Agostini (2019) 29–32 for Aratus’ mentorship of Philip.

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Philip equally acts lawfully by giving the Aetolians a chance to settle their differences at a conference (Plb. 4.26.3). The resulting decree declaring war and outlining the aims of the Symmachy, Polybius explicitly claims, encouraged hopes among the Greeks that he would act with mildness and magnanimity (Plb. 4.27.10: πραιότητος; μεγαλοψυχία). Philip then diligently (έπιμελῶς) prepares for the coming war, daringly (τολμηρός) employing the Illyrian chief Scerdilaidas to attack the Aetolians by sea (Plb. 4.29.1–2).⁷³ Philip holds the trust of the Achaean League and other members of the Symmachy in the first couple of years of his reign (Plb. 4.36.8) and shows magnanimity in the face of his allies’ pleas (the Epirotes at Plb. 4.62–3; the Achaeans at 4.64 and 4.76; see part 1 of Chapter 3). In these actions, there is a clear demonstration of foresight as he acknowledges the need to protect them for the sake of the whole Symmachy, and thereby places the federation above the interests of one single member (in this case Macedon). Reason and intelligence are furthermore combined in the king’s consideration of whether or not to capture the strategically valuable towns of Oeniadae and Psophis (Plb. 4.65.8–11, 70–2), and in the capture of Lepreum by ruse in 219 (4.80). The events of these two years lead Polybius to claim that, because of his beneficent conduct towards his associates and his ability and daring on the field, the young Philip earned a high reputation among the Greeks, demonstrating an aptitude for acquiring power, a quick intelligence and memory, personal charm, and practical ability and daring in war (Plb. 4.77.2–3). At 4.82.1, Polybius reinforces this point by stating that Philip had won admiration for his correctness of conduct and deeds considered beyond his years (κατά . . . τὴν λοιπὴν ἀναστροφὴν καὶ τὰς πράξεις τεθαυμασμένος ὑπὲρ τὴν ἡλικίαν). While Polybius foreshadows that Philip will turn from this well-disposed state to a savage tyrant (ἐκ βασιλέως εὐφυοῦς τύραννον ἂγριον), the impression of the young Macedonian up until 219 is one that adheres to the ideal concept of a Hellenic youth and king. Strengthening this Hellenic image further, Polybius reveals that in these first two years Philip has been adhering to the advice of Aratus. In dealing with Sparta’s wavering loyalty in 220, Polybius even asserts that it was Aratus who was the foremost counsellor in helping the king to come to this decision, a statement which may be viewed with some suspicion for its simplistic presentation of court and council dynamics (Plb. 4.24.3).⁷⁴ Again in 219, it is Aratus who alerts the king to Apelles’ despotic and exploitative treatment of the Achaeans and exhorts him to put a stop to it (4.76). Later that same year, the Sicyonian urges Philip to use his powers of reasoning during the quarrel between himself and Apelles, advising him to never give credence to accusations rashly and without sufficient evidence, especially if they report against a friend or ally (4.85.4–5). To consider these matters

⁷³ Cf. Kleu (2015) 24–6.

⁷⁴ Cf. D’Agostini (2019) 41–4.

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carefully, to approach them rationally without impulsiveness, Aratus states, is the way of a king and an advantage in every way.⁷⁵ In these opening scenes, therefore, Philip is portrayed as an ideal youth and king, exhibiting the Hellenic qualities of reason, justice, mildness, magnanimity, diligence, daring, speed, efficiency, and military prowess. This positivity and adherence to Hellenic virtues continues throughout Book 5, covering the years 218–216 , as the king consistently listens to and follows the advice of Aratus, the leading figure who, according to Polybius, brought the Achaean League to its greatness by the promotion of the virtues of justice, equality, and freedom (2.38.6–45.7, esp. 2.40.2 and 43.3–10). Yet, in these years, there is also a gradual but noticeable change in the king’s conduct which causes his position in Greece to waver. At the end of 219, there is a glitch in Philip’s loyalty to Aratus, when Apelles persuades him to promote and support Eperatus’ candidacy, Aratus’ political rival, for the generalship of the League in the next year (Plb. 4.82). Apelles’ advice quickly proves problematic for Philip’s whole endeavour against Aetolia, however, since his request for supplies of grain and money from the League in 218 is denied due to his estrangement from Aratus. It is only after Aratus and Philip have reconciled that Philip is granted his request (Plb. 5.1.6–12).⁷⁶ When the king goes back to listening to Aratus, whose counsel is, according to Polybius, centred around what is best for the Achaean League and the wider Greek community, that Philip is able to cultivate goodwill and achieve resources and military success. For Polybius, the advice of Apelles and his allies focuses far more on the interests of one individual member of the Symmachy, Macedon, and therefore ‘uncivilized’ behaviour more in line with tyrants and barbarians than Greeks. In this instance, Philip’s deviation from Aratus and the Hellenic community does not last long as he quickly realizes the difficulties that ensue from pursuing selfish policies and from distancing himself from the Greeks. Aratus’ influence, as we have seen, continues throughout the Thermum affair against the ‘corrupting’ presence of Philip’s Macedonian Peltast captain, Leontius, a member of the Apelles circle. The attack on the Aetolian citadel aimed to help not only Macedon and Philip, but the whole Symmachy in the war: the Acarnanians, neighbours and perpetual enemies of the Aetolians, were the ones who originally encouraged the venture and the first to muster forces for the attack (Plb. 5.5.2, 6.1–2); the Achaeans and Epirotes were equally interested in damaging ⁷⁵ Plb. 4.85.4–5: ὁ δὲ πρεσβύτερος Ἄρατος ὑπολαβὼν καθόλου μὲν ἠξίου τὸν Φίλιππον μηδενὶ τῶν λεγομένων ὀξέως μηδ᾽ ἀκρίτως μηδέποτε πιστεύειν, ὅταν δὲ κατά τινος τῶν φίλων καὶ συμμάχων προσπέσῃ τις αὐτῷ λόγος, τὸν ἀκριβέστερον ἔλεγχον ποιεῖσθαι πρὶν ἢ δέξασθαι τὴν διαβολήν: καὶ γὰρ βασιλικὸν εἶναι τὸ τοιοῦτο καὶ πρὸς πᾶν συμφέρον. The elder Aratus, interrupting him, exhorted Philip as a general principle not to give credence to anything reported harshly nor to trust words uncritically, whenever some story comes to him about one of his friends or allies, but to closely scrutinize the slander before accepting it. ⁷⁶ For discussions of these events and the court politics behind them, see Errington (1967) 19–36, Herman (1997) 218–22, Tataki (1998) 255, and D’Agostini (2019) 57–62.

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an enemy who had raided their country continuously over the past years, although the latter were unable to supply military aid in time (5.6.3). Thermum, however, illustrates the first significant lapse of Philip’s Hellenic virtue in Polybius’ narrative. As seen in Chapter 2, Polybius considers the Macedonian destruction of religious property to be a contravention of the laws of war, and therefore irrational, brutal, lawless, and unhelpful in the betterment of the Aetolians (Plb. 5.11–12.4). To commit such an act of impiety, Polybius claims, is evidence of a raging passion and mind (5.11.4: τρόπου καὶ θυμοῦ λυττῶντος ἒργον)—it is, in other words, a barbaric act in its lack of restraint. Philip’s predecessors, on the other hand, had demonstrated restraint, moderation, and rationality in their actions towards religious centres and the Greek communities in the past, and were more fully Greek in terms of behaviour than Philip reveals himself to be. In Polybius’ mind, to show off his Hellenic qualities, Philip should rather have demonstrated to the Aetolians, semi-Greeks in Polybius’ work (see above), how to act in accordance with Hellenic ideals (Plb. 5.11.5–12.3). Ultimately, however, Polybius places blame for the events at Thermum onto Demetrius of Pharus, while exonerating Aratus from blame. The polarization of the two advisers here (and at Messene; see Chapter 2) may reinforce the contrast between Hellenic and barbaric behaviour since Demetrius represents the collective characteristics of the Illyrians, whom Polybius considered to be a non-Greek/barbarian people,⁷⁷ and Aratus represented the exemplary Hellenic Achaeans. Thermum is therefore another episode in which Philip has been influenced by irrational and self-interested forces to commit an act contrary to Greek custom. Yet, he is still closely associated with Aratus for a few more years, so he has not fully broken away from his Hellenic teacher or leanings. At the end of 218, Philip also puts an end to the ‘Apelles Conspiracy’ which had tried to distance Philip from his Achaean guide and shift attention to policies more beneficial to Macedon than its Greek allies.⁷⁸ The barbaric threat (Apelles and his associates) in this case had also been defeated and its influence on Philip had been hampered. Yet the danger of corruption was not entirely thwarted, and Philip would have to make a crucial decision in the following year that would change his conduct and the face of the Greek world forever. Upon receiving news of the Roman defeat at Trasimene in 217 , Demetrius of Pharus advised Philip to conclude the Social War and, with the goodwill of the Achaeans, begin an expedition into Illyria and Italy (Plb. 5.101.7–10). Inspired by this advice, Philip summoned a council of friends to discuss how to conclude the conflict with the Aetolians. Aratus, Polybius claims, was not opposed to negotiating as he thought the Symmachy would obtain advantageous terms now that the war was going in ⁷⁷ For the negativity of the Illyrian queen Teuta’s portrayal in her dealings with the Romans in the Histories, see Plb. 2.4, 8–12. ⁷⁸ For this conspiracy, see p. 60 n. 6 of this volume.

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their favour (Plb. 5.102.1–3). At the conference of Naupactus in 217, Philip’s Greek allies and the Aetolians agreed to end the war, but in doing so also offered the king a different choice for his future endeavours: they allegedly urged him to take up the position of hegemon in a Panhellenic venture against whichever of the two warring barbarian states in the west (Rome and Carthage) emerged as supreme and thereby encouraged the Macedonian king to take his next step while thinking about the wider Greek community. As the Hellenic quality of the Romans had been tested before the Hannibalic War in their conflicts in the First Punic War and the Celtic raids, so too had the excellence and Hellenic quality of Philip been tested by his advisers and Aetolian enemies in his early years. Even though there had been some shaky moments, Philip had so far successfully overcome these threats and been called upon to protect all that was Greek by the Greeks themselves. Yet, in Polybius’ narrative the conclusion of the Social War and the conference of Naupactus represented Philip’s greatest test: he had been urged to take up two different stances against the western barbarian— one based around the Hellenic community (Agelaus and Aratus), the other more focused on Macedonian and Illyrian (barbarian?) interests (Demetrius)— and he had to decide which one he would adopt and how he would subsequently conduct himself.

Interlude: Book 6 and Polybius on Kingship and Tyranny So ends Book 5, primed for Philip’s next course of action, his decision to either take up the Hellenic cause or a barbaric one. Yet, we are not immediately given his answer, but rather the next book is Polybius’ famous interlude outlining his theory of constitutional change and Rome’s mixed constitution. While the placement of this digression in Book 6 was used to explain how and why Rome was able to come back from the brink of disaster in 216 and conquer the Mediterranean, it also conveniently intersects the narrative of Philip’s transition from king to tyrant: at the end of Book 5 the Macedonian king has proven himself to the Greeks, ended the war with the Aetolians, and been given the task of protecting and leading them all against the western barbarian (Plb. 5.104–5); in Book 7, he begins his turn for the worse at Messene (Plb. 7.10–14). By its discussion of the different constitutions, their characteristics and transitions, Book 6 is also significant not only for what it says about Rome, but also for what it suggests about the development of Philip V, even if he is not explicitly mentioned in the course of its analysis. Polybius’ descriptions of kingship and tyranny, how they arise and change, and what qualities they each possess, have distinct parallels with the arc and progression of the king’s life and career: they not only demonstrate how Polybius’ conceptions of kingship and tyranny relate to his ideas about Hellenic and barbaric conduct, but also illustrate how Philip fits into this picture of political and ideological transformation. A brief summary of Polybius’ comments on kingship and tyranny will be useful here.

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Polybius’ first comments on kingship in Book 6 are a repetition of his statements about kingship in Book 5: kingship, he claims, is when the rule of one man is willingly accepted by their subjects and characterized by the use of reason (Plb. 6.4.2; cf. 5.11.6).⁷⁹ He expands upon this description by stating that kingship comes about through training and the correction of defects (6.4.7: μετὰ κατασκευῆς καὶ διορθώσεως), rather than arising naturally and unaided. These features are examined in more detail in Polybius’ theoretical discussion of the emergence and development of political communities and the beginning of monarchy (6.6–7): the notions of duty, justice, and noble and base behaviour (καλός, αἰσχρός), he outlines, gradually overcome the primacy of physical strength and courage in choosing a ruler (6.7.9) as noble conduct comes to be admired and imitated because it proves advantageous to the community and the person who has acted nobly, while base conduct comes to be despised and avoided because it proves a disadvantage. When a man acts in accordance with what is noble (τὸ καλόν), therefore, he will be rewarded, obeyed for his good judgement, preserved in his position even in old age, and defended from intrigue and usurpation (Plb. 6.6.8–12). As a consequence, true kingship (6.7.1: βασιλείας ἀληθινῆς) emerges alongside the shift to choosing rulers based on their reason and judgement (Plb. 6.7.3: ποιοῦνται . . . τὴν αἵρεσιν τῶν ἀρχόντων καὶ βασιλέων οὐκέτι κατὰ τὰς σωματικὰς καὶ θυμικὰς δυνάμεις, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὰς τῆς γνώμης καὶ τοῦ λογισμοῦ διαφοράς). Those chosen as kings are still expected to fortify and enclose their land with walls and to acquire new territory, but not for the sake of their own power and interests. Rather defence and expansion are to be accomplished for the sake of the wider community, for the protection of their subjects, and for the provision of a plentiful supply of resources (6.7.4: τὸ μὲν τῆς ἀσφαλείας χάριν, τὸ δὲ τῆς δαψιλείας τῶν ἐπιτηδείων τοῖς ὑποτεταγμένοις). A true king should equally not separate and distinguish himself from his people by superior dress, food, or drink; in doing so he removes himself from criticism and jealousy (6.7.5). For Polybius, therefore, the true king is one who cultivates and possesses the Hellenic qualities of reason, moderation, and justice, whose interests are those of his wider community, and who is, as a consequence, accepted and supported by his subjects. As we have seen above in the summary of Books 4 and 5, Philip has been developing all these kingly qualities in the early years of his reign up until 217 . The king therefore received goodwill and acceptance from his Greek allies, because of his mildness, magnanimity, and level-headedness in dealing with

⁷⁹ Plb. 6.4.2: οὔτε γὰρ πᾶσαν δήπου μοναρχίαν εὐθέως βασιλείαν ῥητέον, ἀλλὰ μόνην τὴν ἐξ ἑκόντων συγχωρουμένην καὶ τῇ γνώμῃ τὸ πλεῖον ἢ φόβῳ καὶ βίᾳ κυβερνωμένην. Polybius’ ideas regarding kingship go back to traditions formed in the fourth century  and were commonplace in the Hellenistic period; see e.g. Isocrates Nicocles, Xenophon, Agesilaus, Cyropaideia and Hiero, and Arist. Pol. 1284a–1315b. For Hellenistic views on kingship, see also Archytas, Diotogenes, Sthenidas, and Ecphantus, On Kingship (Stobaeus, Anthologia, 4, 1, 132, 135–8; 4, 5, 61; 4, 7, 61–6). Cf. Walbank (1984a) 62–100, Bringman (1993) 7–24, Billows (1995) 56–80, and Ma (2003) 177–95.

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them. While Polybius acknowledges that there were a couple of hiccups along the way (the support of Eperatus in 219 and the excess shown at Thermum under Demetrius’ guidance), Philip has so far consistently shown himself to be devoted to the propagation of reason, moderation, and justice in himself and his rule by listening to the advice of Aratus (and unknown other counsellors) and correcting his mistakes. In thinking of the wider community, he captured and fortified strategic locations upon his allies’ request (for instance, the fortresses of Ambracus and Oeniadae in Ambracia; 4.61–6). Moving the war into Aetolia in 218 also protected his Acarnanian and Epirote allies, as well as those in the Peloponnese, from having their territory overrun by raiding parties, and the acquisition of booty during the attack on Thermum helped to pay and supply their military forces of the Symmachy.⁸⁰ The subsequent attack on Sparta removed the threat of invasion from the south and established the security of all the members of the alliance (5.2.1–3). In terms of distinction, while there was always a degree of restricted access to the king at the Macedonian court, there is no mention of Philip distinguishing himself from his Macedonian or Greek associates in his dress, meals, or love affairs. Finally, in the review of these years in Book 7, Polybius states that because of his reasonable, just, and generous conduct towards the civic communities, Philip’s governance was willingly accepted not only by his Greek allies in the Symmachy, but also by his own people (Plb. 7.11.4–7). Therefore, in Polybius’ early narrative, Philip very much fits the description of a true Hellenic king outlined by Polybius in Books 5 and 6. In talking about tyrants and tyranny, in Book 2 Polybius states that the very word of tyrant denotes the height of impiety and every injustice and lawlessness towards human beings (2.59.6: αὐτὸ γὰρ τοὔνομα περιέχει τὴν ἀσεβεστάτην ἔμφασιν καὶ πάσας περιείληφε τὰς ἐν ἀνθρώποις ἀδικίας καὶ παρανομίας),⁸¹ and that slayers of a tyrant are everywhere met with honour and distinction (2.56.15: ἀποκτείνας . . . ὁ δὲ τὸν προδότην ἢ τύραννον τιμῶν καὶ προεδρείας τυγχάνει παρὰ πᾶσιν; cf. 2.60.2)—an old sentiment which parallels the resistance and fight against tyrants and barbaric Persians. Tyrants subvert the Hellenic principles of freedom, autonomy, and equality as illustrated by the Peloponnesian tyrants installed by the Macedonian kings in the third century (Plb. 2.41–4; 9.29.5) and are perpetual enemies of the champions of liberty (8.35.6: πᾶς τύραννος πολεμιωτάτους αὑτῷ νομίζει τοὺς τῆς ἐλευθερίας προεστῶτας; cf. Machanidas at 11.10.9 and Nabis at 13.6.2). In Book 5, again while discussing Philip’s behaviour at Thermum, ⁸⁰ For the practical benefits of this venture, which Polybius omits, see Nicholson (2018c) 443–8. ⁸¹ The word tyrannos came into the Greek language in the 7th century  from the east and originally carried the neutral idea of absolute and personal power, rather than the rule of a king which was bound by law. It soon picked up negative connotations in Greek thought in the sixth and fifth centuries as tyrannies were abolished, and in the fourth was viewed as a deviation from ideal kingship by Aristotle (Pol. 1295a19–23), who claimed it was ‘when one-man rules without legal restraint over his equals or better, and rules entirely for his own benefit, not for that of his subjects . . .’. Cf. Lewis (2009) 1–14; and for the difficulties of ascertaining the relationship between basileia and tyrannis, see Mitchell (2013) 23–55.

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Polybius claims, as had been the case for centuries, that a tyrant rules using fear and force and is hated by his subjects and hates them in return (Plb. 5.11.5–6: τυράννου μὲν γὰρ ἔργον ἐστὶ τὸ κακῶς ποιοῦντα τῷ φόβῳ δεσπόζειν ἀκουσίων). We might also note the refusal of the Cyreneans, in Book 31, to submit willingly to Ptolemy VIII, whose government and whole disposition they considered to be tyrannical (31.18.14: ἀλλὰ τυραννικὴν οὖσαν τὴν ἀρχὴν αὐτοῦ καὶ τὴν ὅλην αἵρεσιν).⁸² In Book 6, Polybius then describes how kingship changes into tyranny, asserting that it often occurs when the office has been passed down by hereditary succession and the successors, finding themselves fully provided for and secure in their regal position, begin giving way to their desires (Plb. 6.7.6–7: ταῖς ἐπιθυμίαις ἑπόμενοι διὰ τὴν περιουσίαν . . .).⁸³ They start to believe that they should be differentiated from their subjects by their dress and meals and meet with no opposition in their pursuit of sexual pleasure, however improper (παρὰ τῶν μὴ προσηκόντων; 6.7.7). These unrestrained and selfish actions cause offence, envy, hatred, and resentment, and turn the subjects against the ruler encouraging plots and revolution (6.7.8). In changing into tyrants, therefore, monarchs become grasping, unrestrained, and driven by passion. Alongside the convergences pointed out by Champion in 2004 between individuals in ochlocratic states and barbarians, therefore, there are also parallels between Polybius’ tyrants and barbarians (see pp. 180–2 above): both are concerned with wealth and luxury and associated with the enslavement of free peoples, and both exhibit the characteristics of injustice (ἀδικία), irrationality (ἀλογιστία), excessive passion (θυμός), savagery (ὠμός), licentiousness (ἀσέλγεια), lawlessness (παρανομία), greed (πλεονεξία), and the primacy of the individual over the state. Polybius’ conception of ochlocracy may be worse and more barbaric in nature than his conception of tyranny since the chaotic, bestial behaviour of barbarians is not so prevalent in his description of the latter, yet, it seems that it is still possible for a ruler to go beyond tyranny, as we will see with Philip V, and into the depths of barbaric thumos as he exhibits animalistic behaviour and falls into madness.

The Slide into Tyranny and Barbarity (215–204 ) In returning to the narrative in Book 7, we are at once presented with Philip’s second, more significant lapse in Hellenic virtue (the first was at Thermum in 218 ): his instigation of the violent uprisings in Messene and attempt to install a Macedonian garrison on its citadel in 215  (Plb. 7.10–14)—nearly, therefore, ⁸² For these tyrannical topoi, see e.g. Hdt. 3.80; 5.92; Thuc. 1.13.1, 17; Eur. Supp. 399–449; Plato Rep. 8.566e–67a, 9.573c–80c; Xen. Hiero 1.11–12, 15 and Cyr. 1.3.18; Arist. Pol. 1279b4–7, 16–17, 1295a1–1295a24, 1310a39–b14, 1310b40–1311a22, 1313a34–1316b27. ⁸³ This is an important innovation in Greek political thought. Concern about hereditary succession goes back to Herodotus (cf. 5.92) and Aristotle (cf. Pol. 1286b22, 1312b17, and 1313a10), but Polybius’ assertion that tyranny emerges from kingship and not from any other constitution and most often from hereditary succession is an innovation (cf. Arist. Pol. 1316a17–1316a25). Cf. Walbank, HCP I 655–6.

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depriving a Greek city and ally of its civic autonomy and liberty. As at Thermum, this lapse occurred, Polybius claims, because Philip had strayed from the guidance of Aratus and instead followed that of Demetrius of Pharus, who encouraged selfish, treacherous, and ruthless conduct. Since the report of Rome’s defeat at Trasimene and the conference of Naupactus, Demetrius had gained further favour with the king and had aroused his hopes and ambitions of conquest in Illyria and Italy (Plb. 5.108.5–7). Encouraged by the Illyrian, the aborted attempt on Messene in 215  was seemingly instigated for Macedonian interests rather than the common interests of the community of the Symmachy. While Aratus was able to stave off Philip’s complete change of conduct towards the Greeks at this point by reminding him of the hostility that garrisoning Messene would arouse in his allies, his influence was not strong enough to last more than a year and Philip came back in 214  to make another attempt on the city. By this act, Philip had fully turned away from Aratus’ guidance, and therefore, symbolically turned away from his Hellenic teaching and influence. As we saw in the previous chapter, following this capture of Messene, Philip would present a threat to Greek freedom and autonomy in his pursuit of power and expansion in Polybius’ narrative for the next seventeen years. It is in this period that Philip’s depiction steadily shifts from that of a king to a tyrant, from that of an ally of the Greeks to an enemy, and from Hellenic reason to barbaric irrationality, passion, and savagery. In answer to the options laid out for him at Naupactus, the Macedonian king is depicted as having decided to step away from the Greek appeals to goodwill and his role as protector of Hellenic interests. For Polybius, the main cause of this change in conduct was the change of adviser from Aratus, an individual representing noble Hellenic qualities and conduct, to Demetrius of Pharus, an individual representing barbaric ones.⁸⁴ When Philip was initially encouraged to look to the west and ward off a potential barbarian attack by the Aetolian Agelaus at Naupactus (Plb. 5.104), it was urged as a policy that would protect and promote the interests of the Greek community. Demetrius’ influence, however, distorts or reshapes this aim: Philip does look west but not for the sake of the Greek world and a Panhellenic venture, but for the sake of himself and Macedon, for individual glory and the advancement of his own kingdom. Of course, in reality this may well have been Philip’s intention all along. His primary goal, as that of all Hellenistic kings, was to secure and expand his power and influence, and the garrisoning of Messene and establishment of a more solid hold on Greece was the best policy in this respect. Yet, the Histories, as we have already seen on numerous occasions, do not approach these developments from a Macedonian or even neutral perspective, but from a Greek and specifically Achaean one. While such a strategy would appear rational and beneficial in terms

⁸⁴ For the shift in the influence of advisers, see also Plb. 5.12, 8.12.2–6, and 9.23.9.

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of Macedonian interests, Polybius does not agree with it primarily because it compromised the freedom and autonomy of the Achaean League. Polybius is judging Philip according to Greek categories and standards of monarchy, and not Macedonian ones.⁸⁵ In the Histories, therefore, Philip’s attempt to garrison Messene represented an affront to the Hellenic world.⁸⁶ By focusing his attention on conquest in such a way as to sideline his Greek allies, Philip is turning away from Greek ideas of good leadership and kingship based on magnanimity, goodwill, and communal interest, from the ideal he was taught and came to embody as the eromenos of the Greeks in his early years. Instead, the king starts to align himself with what was, in Greek eyes, tyrannical leadership based on fear, force, irrationality, passion, and self-interest. This suspicion of Philip and Macedonian rule in the narrative would also be supported by the fact that previous monarchs who had imposed their rule on the Greeks, that is, the Persian kings, were often associated with barbarity. Therefore, Macedonian monarchy, which was imposing its will on the Greeks through force and violence, might equally not only be associated with tyrannical conduct but also with barbaric conduct (cf. Alcaeus of Messene’s portrayal of Philip V as another Xerxes in Anth. Pal. 5: Ἄγαγε καὶ Χέρξης Πέρσανστράτον Ἑλλάδος ἐς γᾶν . . .). This is suggested by Polybius in the second stage of Philip’s development after Messene, when almost all the descriptors attached to the king and his actions are those negatively connected with tyranny and barbarians: injustice, graspingness, greed, irrationality, lawlessness, and beastlike behaviour. Following his aborted first attempt on Messene, Polybius states that it was Philip’s first private impulse when faced with Aratus’ criticism and warning at Messene to play false and deceitfully continue with his plan to break faith with the Messenians (7.12.8: ὁ Φίλιππος κατὰ μὲν τὴν ἰδίαν ὀρμὴν ἓτοιμος ἦ παρασπονδεῖν); a few lines later we are once again reminded that Philip was ‘more impassioned’ (θυμικώτερον) in his destruction of the porticoes and equipment at Thermum than necessary (7.13.3), that he had started to engage in acts of great impiety (τῶν μεγίστων ἀσεβημάτων) because of the influence of Demetrius (7.13.6), and had now developed a taste for human blood, slaughter, and treachery. He is described not as a man who has turned into a wolf, but rather as a king who has turned into a cruel tyrant (7.13.7: οὐ λύκος ἐξ ἀνθρώπου κατὰ τὸν Ἀρκαδικὸν μῦθον, ὥς φησιν ὁ Πλάτων, ἀλλὰ τύραννος ἐκ βασιλέως ἀπέβη πικρός).⁸⁷ In Book 8, in his second attack on Messene in 214 , he behaves like an enemy acting from passion rather than with reason (8.8.1: δυσμενικῶς, θυμῷ τὸ πλεῖον ἢ λογισμῷ χρώμενος), having committed impiety and lawless acts (8.8.4: ἀσεβεία, παρανομία), and is guilty of ⁸⁵ Cf. D’Agostini (2019) 91–3 for Polybius’ application of his own ideals of rule, not Macedonian ones, onto his assessment of Philip at Thermum. ⁸⁶ Cf. Thornton (2020a) 306–7 for Polybius’ hostility and anger towards Philip for not fulfilling the programme of this panhellenic alliance based on pistis. ⁸⁷ Cf. Plato Rep. 8.565d–566a.

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great violence (τὴν μεγίστην ἀσελγειαν) towards the most intimate of his friends, particularly in his alleged poisoning of Aratus in 213  (8.12; Plut. Arat. 51–2).⁸⁸ In 211 , the Aetolian ambassador, Chlaineas, is made to repeat Polybius’ earlier claim that Philip committed impiety and outrage (ἀσεβείας . . . ὓβρεις) at Thermum and showed himself to be savage (ὠμότητος) towards men by his faithlessness and betrayal (ἀθεσίας καὶ παρασπόνδησις) of Messene (9.30.1). While it is possible that some mention of the events at Messene may have been included in Chlaineas’ original speech, Polybius himself noted how not everyone viewed the attempts on Messene in such negative terms (Plb. 8.8.3–4; cf. Chapter 2). By making Chlaineas, an Aetolian, refer back to these events as shameful deeds one book later, therefore, Polybius is trying to reinforce and normalize his own more hostile view of the affair by repetition over an extended period.⁸⁹ Moreover, by placing such a view in the mouth of a historical agent, Polybius also gives the impression that this was a view not only held by himself but others as well, and thereby attempts to make such an interpretation more persuasive than those who deemed it a neutral or even praiseworthy achievement. If this view is accepted, then Philip’s tyrannical nature, his savagery, and lack of self-control in these instances suggest that he is taking on barbaric tendencies.⁹⁰ This is a crucial point, since this impression is repeated and normalized in the following books. In Book 10 we get a description of Philip that directly connects with the image of the tyrant outlined in Book 6: in July 209 , Polybius claims Philip tried to make himself appear more democratic at the Nemean Games by disposing of his purple robe and diadem (Plb. 10.26.1) but instead reinforced his greater and more monarchical power the more democratic his clothing became (ὅσῳ δὲ τὴν ἐσθῆτα δημοτικωτέραν περιετίθετο, τοσούτῳ τὴν ἐξουσίαν ἐλάμβανε μείζω καὶ μοναρχικωτὲραν).⁹¹ This was also the case in his pursuit of women, both unmarried and married alike, and his abuse and violence against those who tried to stop him (10.26.2–4). The king’s licence and conspicuous sexual interest corresponds with Polybius’ earlier description of tyrants in Book 6 (Plb. 6.7.6–7), and the latter trait of unrestrained sexual appetite even forms part of what Polybius considered a ‘barbarous life’ (βάρβαρον βίον; 36.15.4–6).⁹² It is not surprising, therefore, that Philip’s conduct annoyed many of the Achaeans, who must have considered such behaviour an abuse of power, highlighting the imbalance in their relationship. They were unwilling to intervene, however, because of the current war (the First Macedonian War) and were then forced to show ⁸⁸ Walbank (1940) 78–9; Walbank HCP II 87–9 thinks Aratus died of natural causes. See Zecchini (2018) 13–29 for Polybius’ sources. ⁸⁹ Cf. Nicholson (2018a) 185–205 on Polybius’ use of patterns and repetition to establish and normalize certain characteristics in his characters. ⁹⁰ Hau (2016) 68–71. ⁹¹ See Walbank HCP II 230–1 for this sense of ἐξουσία. ⁹² As Walbank indicates at HCP II 230, this Nemean episode is probably a hostile tradition, exaggerating the extent of the king’s behaviour. In terms of sexual incontinence and the ‘barbarous life’, Polybius is referring to the life and conduct of Prusias II (36.14–15); cf. Eckstein (1995b) 123.

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patience and bear such behaviour against their nature (10.26.6). In his second attack of Thermum in 208/7 , Philip is once again said to have acted wrongly in succumbing to his passion (χρώμενος τῷ θυμῷ), as it is a sign of all unreasonableness to commit impiety against the gods while angry at men (11.7.3: τὸ γὰρ τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ὀργιζόμενον εἰς τὸ θεῖον ἀσεβεῖν τῆς πάσης ἀλογιστίας ἐστὶ σημεὶον). In Polybius’ digression on treacherous behaviour (κακοπραγμοσύνην) and its prevalence within contemporary politics, it is also Philip who forms the primary example of someone who acted in such a way, with particular reference to his attempt to sabotage the Rhodian fleet via his agent, Heracleides, in 205  (13.3–5; cf. 15.21–4).

Beyond Tyranny into Insanity and Beastlike Behaviour, 203–200  It is between 203 and 200 , however, that Philip reaches the peak of his villainy in Polybius’ narrative and receives the most vehement censure from the historian (Plb. 15.20–4; 16.1, 10). In commenting on the pact between Philip and Antiochus III in 203, which agreed to the distribution of Ptolemaic possessions between them upon the succession of an infant, both kings are described as acting not even like tyrants who put forward paltry pretexts for shameful acts (οὐδ’ οὖν, καθάπερ οἱ τύραννοι, βραχεῖαν δή τινα προβαλλόμενοι τῆς αἰσχύνης πρόφασιν). They offer no reason at all for their conduct and therefore fall even below the status of a tyrant. As Walbank notes, by this Polybius is saying the worst thing he can imagine of Philip and Antiochus.⁹³ They behave with such lack of restraint and in such a beastly manner (άνέδην καὶ θηριωδῶς) that it could be said that they lived like fish, among which, although being the same species, the destruction of the weaker is nourishment and sustenance for the larger (15.20.3). They are animal-like in preying upon the weak without justified and reasonable cause. Concluding his commentary, Polybius angrily exclaims that one could see this treaty as a mirror (εἰς κάτοπτρον εἰς τὴν συνθήκην ταύτην αὐτόπτης) which reveals not only the kings’ impiety towards the gods and their cruelty towards men, but also their unbounded greed (15.20.4: τῆς πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς ἀσεβείας καὶ τῆς πρὸς τοὺς ἀνθρώους ὠμότητος, ἒτι δὲ τῆς ὑπερβαλλούσης πλεονεξίας τῶν προειρημένων βασιλέων). Unrestrained avarice and beastlike behaviour are new traits in Philip’s already long arsenal of crimes in the fragmentary remains of Polybius’ text and emphasize the barbarity of the king’s image at the height of his career. Philip’s next appearance in the narrative (15.22–3) shows him dedicated to this deleterious course. He exhibits further impious and cruel behaviour in helping his kinsmen Prusias I of Bithynia to capture the island of Cius (at the time a friend and ally of the Aetolians; cf. Chapter 3).⁹⁴ Polybius claims that Philip thought he had done the right thing by helping his kinsman in this venture, by overawing ⁹³ Cf. Walbank HCP II 473. ⁹⁴ For the kinship of Philip V and Prusias I, see Walbank HCP II 475–6.

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those who opposed him, and by justifiably enriching himself with booty from the city’s capture. These justifications are notably similar to those given for the attack on Thermum in 218 , and such repetition of character and motive reinforces and normalizes Polybius’ tyrannical and barbaric depiction of the king. Here, however, Philip is not said to be encouraged to act treacherously by another, but he is freely acting in such a way without any encouragement. As at Thermum, the historian takes the opposite view of these deeds (cf. Polybius’ criticisms at Thermum, 5.9), first by pointing out that Prusias was wronging others by his treachery, so Philip was equally wronging others by aiding him (πρῶτον μὲν ὡς οὐκ ἀδικουμένῳ, παρασπονδοῦντι δὲ τῷ κηδεστῇ τοὺς πέλας ἐβοήθει). Tellingly, Polybius continues to focus on Philip’s behaviour in his follow-up statements, rather than those of Prusias, despite the latter’s equally treacherous attack of a Greek city. The Bithynian’s image is instead softened as Polybius claims that he was irritated by Philip’s return of the city sacked and empty (Plb. 15.23.10). The Macedonian king is the primary target of the historian’s criticism and vitriol, and nothing will distract him from this aim. Philip’s second error was that he had unjustly brought great calamities (τοῖς μεγίστοις ἀτυχήμασιν) upon a Greek city—that is, he had deprived the Cians of their autonomy and liberty and subjected them to slavery. This incident would only reinforce the king’s reputation for cruelty towards friends (ὑπὲρ τῆς εἰς τοὺς φίλους ὠμότητος), as he was at the time meant to be at peace with the Aetolians, as well as for impiety among all of the Greeks (παρὰ πᾶσι τοῖς Ἕλλησι τὴν ἐπ᾽ ἀσεβείᾳ δόξαν).⁹⁵ Thirdly, he had insulted (ἐνυβρίκει) the ambassadors (among whom were probably Rhodians, Athenians, and Cians)⁹⁶ who had come to try and deliver the Cians from their present predicament by ignoring their request and forcing them to bear witness to the city’s capture and enslavement. These acts, Polybius claims, aroused such savage hatred in the Rhodians against the king that they would no longer hear any good word about him (πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ὅτι τοὺς Ῥοδίους οὕτως ἀπετεθηριώκει τότε πρὸς αὑτὸν ὥστε μηδένα λόγον ἔτι προσίεσθαι περὶ Φιλίππου). In the next passage (15.23), when Philip’s envoy attempts to refute the slander against him, a man arrives in the Rhodian Prytaneum and announces the enslavement of the Cians and the savagery of Philip by this deed (ἀναγγέλλων τὸν ἐξανδραποδισμὸν τῶν Κιανῶν καὶ τὴν ὠμότητα τοῦ Φιλίππου τὴν ἐν τούτοις γεγενημένην). The Rhodians allegedly could not believe the extent of the king’s deceit (τὴν ὑπερβολὴν τῆς ἀθεσίας). From this day forward, the Rhodians (who represented Greek excellence in Polybius for their fight against piracy, see Chapter 3) would consider him their enemy; the Aetolians quickly followed suit having also lost Lysimacheia and Chalcedon, despite being at peace with the king.⁹⁷ Polybius proclaims that in this instance Philip had betrayed himself ⁹⁵ For Philip’s savagery towards friends, see Walbank (1943) 4–5, and HCP II 88. ⁹⁶ See Walbank HCP II 476. ⁹⁷ See Walbank HCP II 477–9 and pp. 135–8 of this volume.

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rather than the Cians, having arrived at such mistaken conduct and fallen so far from the right path (εἰς τοιαύτην ἄγνοιαν ἢ καὶ παράπτωσιν τοῦ καθήκοντος ἧκεν) as to credit the most shameful behaviour as something fine to be exalted and boasted about (ὥστ᾽ ἐφ᾽ οἷς ἐχρῆν αἰσχύνεσθαι καθ᾽ ὑπερβολήν, ἐπὶ τούτοις ὡς καλοῖς σεμνύνεσθαι καὶ μεγαλαυχεῖν). Polybius’ criticism continues along these lines as he frames Philip’s attack and capture of Thasos as a similar act of treachery (παρασπόνδημα): the king enslaves the population after being openly welcomed into the city (15.24). In a brief digression, Polybius then relates how at the beginning of their reigns kings extend to all the name of freedom and greet those who share in common hopes with them as friends and allies, but immediately after attaining their purpose treat those who trusted in them despotically (δεσποτικῶς). These monarchs are, he asserts, deceived into thinking that they are acting nobly (τοῦ καλοῦ), but rather insult themselves by acting ignobly and presenting themselves as tyrants. This is what Philip has done, as Polybius indicates with heat (15.24.6): how could it not be irrational and mad (πῶς οὐκ ἂν δόξειεν ἀλόγιστον εἶναι καὶ μανικόν) for one engaging in great deeds and embracing hopes of universal dominion, while having the success of all endeavours still unimpaired, to immediately proclaim to all his dishonesty and changeability (τὴν ἀθεσίαν αὑτοῦ καὶ τὴν ἀβεβαιότητα) by the first and most insignificant matters that fall under his power? This behaviour is, in Polybius’ mind, therefore, the height of irrationality, showing lack of judgement, restraint, and thoughtlessness. It represents both the way of a tyrant in the use of fear and force, and the way of the barbarian in its irrationality and lack of self-control. Such infamy progresses in the following year, 202/201  (Book 16), as Philip is said to show himself capable of every kind of outrage (πᾶσαν αἰκίαν ἐναπεδείκνυτο) in his attack on Pergamum. For as if giving way to a raging passion beyond anger (χαριζόμενος γὰρ οἷον εἰ λυττῶντι τῷ θυμῷ, τὸ πλεῖον τῆς ὀργῆς), he sets forth not only against men, but also against the gods (16.1.1–2). Interestingly, in wreaking his fury on the statues and sanctuaries of the Nicephorium (16.1.4–6), Polybius deems that he has once again insulted not Attalus, but rather himself (ὑβρίζων οὐκ Ἂτταλον, ὥς γ’ ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ, πολὺ δὲ μᾶλλον ἑαυτόν). This is a theme which resonates clearly in this part of Polybius’ narrative where Philip is at his worst: as with Cius and Thasos in the previous book, Philip has let himself down by his lack of judgement, and treacherous, faithless, and fickle behaviour. This speaks to Polybius’ earlier statement in Book 10 in which he said Philip’s good qualities were natural to him and that his defects had appeared with age (10.26.8: καί μοι δοκεῖ τὰ μὲν ἀγαθὰ φύσει περὶ αὐτὸν ὑπάρξαι, τὰ δὲ κακὰ προβαίνοντι κατὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν ἐπιγενέσθαι . . .). Earlier in Book 6, Polybius had stated that men are tested by how nobly they cope when life is going exceptionally well or exceptionally badly (Plb. 6.2.5–7). During this period of success, therefore, Philip fails this test by giving in to excessive and irrational behaviour following success and has

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insulted his own natural good character and earlier high reputation for moral leadership in doing so.⁹⁸ A similar failure of reason and steadfastness follows in the narrative as Philip’s madness (τὸ μανιώδη) re-emerges after the battle of Lade, when he fails to continue with what Polybius considered to be his original plan to sail against Alexandria (16.10.1). This failure, Polybius explains, occurred because it is the nature of things (ἡ φύσις τῶν πραγμάτων): ‘many men’, he claims, ‘strive for the impossible when at a distance due to the magnitude of their hopes, their desires getting the better of their reasoning ability (κρατούσης τῆς ἐπιθυμίας τῶν ἑκάστου λογισμῶν). But when the time for action is upon them, they abandon their projects, being obscured from, and defrauded of, their reasoning ability (σκοτούμενοι καὶ παραλογιζόμενοι τοῖς λογισμοῖς)’ (16.10.2–4).⁹⁹ Philip, according to Polybius’ interpretation, has lost his reasoning ability in the wake of his successes, and therefore lost a vital part of what it means to be a good Hellenic king.

Proclaimed Tyrant and Unspoken Barbarian Polybius’ portrait of Philip in this later stage of the narrative shows increasing signs of tyrannical and barbaric behaviour, a picture assisted and reinforced by the theoretical framework of Book 6.¹⁰⁰ It is therefore unsurprising what happens next. The following book of the Histories, Book 17, is unfortunately entirely lost, but we know from Livy’s text that this included the Roman declaration of war against Philip, and the Epirotes’ and Achaean League’s defection to Rome in 198  (Livy 32.14, 19–23). As seen in Chapter 3, this decision was made primarily through fear: on the one hand, fear that Philip would not be able to stand up to the might of Rome, but also, on the other, fear of the Macedonian king’s increasing aggression in Greece. It is the latter, of course, that Polybius has been drawing out ⁹⁸ See Hau (2016) 48–55 for Polybius’ comments on the ability to handle the vicissitudes of fortune, and particularly success or failure in military situations. ⁹⁹ Note Walbank’s doubt that this statement relates to Philip’s failure to take Alexandria, arguing that Polybius considered the attempt on the city as something feasible while this statement is talking about something unfeasible (HCP II 512). This need not be the case, however, as an attack on Alexandria would signify a much larger attempt on Egypt and the Ptolemaic dynasty, which may have been used to launch further attempts to acquire universal dominion. Such an ambition, Polybius was adamant, was Philip’s aim. The move against Alexandria could easily therefore denote the beginning of something much larger and seemingly unfeasible. For a similar view on the inconsistency of men’s conduct in pursuing ventures of a similar nature, see also Polybius’ comments on Aratus’ deficiencies in military field operations (Plb. 4.8.7–8). ¹⁰⁰ Not all of it is negative, however: Polybius asserts after his description of the Nemean games in 209  that no former king possessed more of the qualities that make a ruler good or bad than Philip, and that his good qualities were natural to him and his vices acquired with age, as in the case with old horses (10.26.7–8); he positively notes that the Milesians voted Philip and his agent, Heracleides, a crown each in 201  (16.15.6–7), and that Sosibius’ son, Ptolemaeus, returned from his stay at Philip’s court with a good impression (16.22.3–4); and he approves of Philip’s kingly conduct and willingness to meet adversity at 16.28, for his demonstration of leniency and goodwill toward the Aetolian Nicanor despite being at war with Aetolia (16.27–8), and after his defeat at Cynoscephalae in 197 (18.33.2–3).

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by structuring Philip’s life around a sharp decline into tyrannical and barbaric tendencies. He obtains power by fear and force, betrays allies and friends alike, commits frequent acts of impiety and savagery, and gives in to passion and irrationality showing a lack of restraint and beastlike behaviour; traits unbecoming of his former kingly self and an insult to the high reputation he had obtained in his youth. One cautionary note should be highlighted at this point, however. Although Polybius frequently refers to Philip as a tyrant in the Histories, in the surviving text he never explicitly calls him a barbarian or describes his actions as barbaric, despite the many descriptors used that are often connected with barbarians and barbarous behaviour: unjust and impious behaviour, irrationality, lack of restraint and impulsiveness, greed, self-interest, and beastlike conduct, and of course posing a threat to Greek culture and liberty. Even in Polybius’ final comments on the king’s life in Book 25 there is no such label or description, only his licentiousness regarding women and drink (25.3.7: τὴν . . . ἀσέλγειαν τήν τε περὶ τὰς γυναῖκας καὶ περὶ τοὺς πότους) and his extreme deceitfulness and unlawfulness (25.3.9: ἀπιστότατος καὶ παρανομώτατος). Although it should be noted that excessive alcohol consumption and drunkenness are characteristics connected with irrationality, immoderate behaviour, and barbarism in Polybius (except for Gaius Livius in 213  (8.27), for instance, Romans do not get drunk); ¹⁰¹ Philip’s drinking, which may have received further treatment in lost passages since we hear little about it until his obituary, may have offered another indication, therefore, that he had shifted not only towards tyrannical but also barbaric behaviour in his later years. It is also possible that Philip’s barbarism was implied in Polybius’ account of an Athenian speech in 200 . Unfortunately, the passage in question is lost and we must rely on Livy’s version to fill in the blanks. This indicates that the Athenians criticized Philip and suggested he was hypocritical for calling the Romans ‘foreigners’ and ‘barbarians’ while he himself desecrated human and divine laws (31.30.4; see above). While we must be wary of placing too much emphasis on this Livian passage, it does display a similar method of voicing barbarity through speech as was seen in Polybius’ accounts of the Greek claims of Roman barbarity at Naupactus (5.104–5), Sparta (9.28–39), and an Aetolian assembly (11.4–6). The idea, therefore, if not the words clearly derive from Polybius. As shown earlier, this sequence of speeches sees a gradual shift in the attitude towards Rome and Macedon; with the addition of the Athenians’ speech, it suggests that this shift is continuing. The Achaeans’ decision to defect in 197  contributes to this reversal of opinion and attitude (Livy 32.20–2). While the polarizing and shifting perspective in these speeches may not have represented the reality of public opinion of all Greeks, Polybius’ inclusion of it in the narrative ¹⁰¹ Cf. Eckstein (1995b) 285–9 for Polybius on drinking and drunkenness, and p. 288 for the comparison of Philip V’s and Perseus’ drinking habits.

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indicates that he wanted to give the impression that the Romans were moving closer to the Greeks culturally, while the Macedonian king was moving further away from them. Polybius’ reluctance to term Philip a barbarian reflects a similar reluctance to call the Romans barbarians. At the beginning of his reign, Philip is closely associated with the Greek community, although it should be noted that he is never called a Greek, only their eromenos. In the latter part of his reign, Philip is also clearly alienated from the Greeks—in fact this is a large part of Polybius’ overall description of the Macedonian. This assimilation and alienation depend on whether the king is working for or against the interests of the Greeks in Polybius’ opinion, as is the case with the Romans. The lack of Greek or barbarian labels for Philip similarly forces him into a position of cultural ambiguity, and one even fuzzier than that of the Romans. Neither are barbarians, therefore, but they can exhibit barbaric behaviour. This ambiguity may be partially explained by considering the political and ideological position of the Antigonid kings in the Greek world. Since Alexander, the kings of Macedon were generally removed from barbarian status by their close connection with the Greeks, their claims to Argive ancestry, and their promotion of Hellenic culture. For the past four centuries the kings had developed alongside the Greeks and even established a common language of negotiation and benefaction with them. While the Macedonian kings’ claims to Greekness had been viewed with far more suspicion three centuries earlier,¹⁰² there is no surviving evidence to suggest that they were openly considered or labelled barbarians after Demosthenes’ attacks on Philip II in the Olynthiacs and Philippics. Furthermore, as benefactors, they were explicitly honoured by the Greek cities: the Achaeans held a festival in honour of Antigonus Doson and changed the name of the city of Mantinea to Antigoneia after its capture (28.19.3; 30.29.3; cf. Plb. 2.70.5; Plut. Arat. 45.1–6); the Athenians had tribes and festivals named after the Antigonids (Livy 31.44); and the Argives considered the Macedonian monarchs to have Argive descent and included the Antigonid king’s name after those of the gods in the opening invocations of their assembly meetings (Livy 32.25). The Romans, in contrast, were less familiar to the Greeks,¹⁰³ and both sides experienced difficulties in approaching and interacting with each other diplomatically—the most obvious example being the Aetolian misunderstanding of what offering deditio in fidem meant, a Roman gesture considered neither ‘just’ nor ‘Greek’ (Plb. 20.10.6: οὔτε δίκαιον . . . οὔθ’ Ἑλληνικόν and Livy 36.28.4–6: quae moris ¹⁰² As Badian (1982) 35–6 noted, in the fifth century and after earlier claims by Alexander I to Greek ancestry, Archelaus was given the epithet ‘philhellene’, a title which would not have been conferred on him if he was viewed as Greek. ¹⁰³ The nature of early contacts between Greece and Rome is controversial; see Gruen (1984) 62–3 for a survey of the evidence and scholarship. Cf. Eckstein (2008) 1–76 for the years 264–217  and Moreno Leoni (2017) 58–61.

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Graecorum non sint (Phaeneas) and more Romano (Glabrio)).¹⁰⁴ Moreover, alongside his savagery and ruthlessness, Philip had also demonstrated the same reason and efficiency in his actions that the Romans had and could not therefore be a true barbarian as these qualities were diametrically opposed to such a status. By depicting the king in such a way, Polybius is implicitly reawakening old arguments surrounding the Greekness of the Macedonian kings and the validity of their involvement in Greek affairs. If Philip was not called barbaric in the lost portions of the Histories, Polybius may have felt that he could not openly call Philip a barbarian without receiving censure from his Greek audience and that it was better to let them come to this conclusion themselves. Many Greeks had been and still were closely attached to the Macedonian kings and would have considered such a claim by the historian a betrayal of Macedon’s previous acts of goodwill, generosity, and protection (note Plb. 9.28–31; 11.4–6). As illustrated in Chapter 3, the decision made by the Achaean League to defect to Rome in 197 was controversial—a noticeable portion of his allies seem rather to have favoured Philip’s cause (App. Mac. 8), and Argos, Dyme, and Megalopolis defected from the League immediately following the decision. Furthermore, calling a Hellenistic king a tyrant was one thing; calling a Hellenistic king a barbarian was a different matter. It would completely dissociate them from a Greek cultural context and ignore their long-standing associations and contributions to Hellenic society, as well as the fact that the Greeks had lived under their influence for generations. Such a claim would have suggested that Polybius was more in favour of Rome than many Greeks would have found acceptable even after the Achaean War in 146. Therefore, as Polybius refrains from openly calling the Romans barbarians for diplomatic reasons, so too does he refrain from calling the Macedonian king barbaric.¹⁰⁵ Moreover, despite the fact that Polybius never explicitly calls Philip a barbarian, the accumulation and frequency of negative descriptions culminating in lack of restraint, beastlike behaviour, and madness sets up the narrative in such a way as to lead a Greek reader to this conclusion.¹⁰⁶ His description of the king’s conduct has clearly and steadily been worsening since 215, and according to his narrative by 200 the king had instilled so much fear in the Greeks and threatened Hellenic liberty to such an extent that they increasingly approached Rome, now the seemingly safer and more Hellenic option of the larger hegemonic power, to intercede on their behalf (Plb. 21.25.2; 22.1–2, 6.1–6, 11.2; 23.1–2). The readers,

¹⁰⁴ For the full episode, see Plb. 20.10 and Livy 36.28. For the deditio incident, see also Livy 36.27.1–29.4; cf. Plb. 21.2.1–6, 4.1–5.13, 8.1–3; Dahlheim (1968) 33–8; Gruen (1982), downplaying Polybius’ alleged misunderstanding of the event; Eckstein (1995a) 271–89; Champion (2004) 156–7; Burton (2009) 237–52; and Moreno Leoni (2014) 146–79 and (2017) 208–23. ¹⁰⁵ He even states later that Philip led an expedition against barbarians (Thracians) (cf. 23.8.3), so he may not have been considered barbaric to the same extent. ¹⁰⁶ Cf. Hall (1989) 210.

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therefore, are guided to the understanding that Philip has declined beyond tyranny and into barbarity from the information supplied in his narrative. Furthermore, that the readers should come to this conclusion is not altogether unreasonable if we consider that the portrayal of Philip and the Macedonians as barbarians was not altogether new. A half-century earlier the poet Alcaeus of Messene had played on the imagery of the Persian Wars in an epigram pertaining to the Second Macedonian War, portraying Philip V as another Xerxes invading Greece (Anth. Pal. 5: Ἄγαγε καὶ Χέρξης Πέρσαν στράτον Ἑλλάδος ἐς γᾶν . . .). The Lesser Attalid Dedication on the Athenian acropolis, a gift from Attalus I of Pergamum, upon his alliance with the Athenians and Romans in 200  against Philip, also equated the Macedonians with giants (Paus. 1.25.2), a theme which appears again in the Great Altar of the 160s as one of the giants holds a shield emblazoned with a Macedonian star.¹⁰⁷ Polybius’ implication that Philip’s behaviour was barbaric, therefore, was not entirely unprecedented in the Greek world, but he had to suggest such a status with caution in his Histories because of the past relationship between the Greeks and Macedon. Alongside a portrait of Philip as a tyrant, by describing the king’s actions and conduct as barbaric Polybius was able to give additional weight to his assertion that it was necessary and appropriate for the Greeks to defect from their alliance with him. Philip had swapped places with the Romans ideologically: he started off as close to Hellenic as a Macedonian king could be as the eromenos of the Greeks and steadily shifted towards tyrannical and barbaric conduct in being influenced by Macedonian and non-Greek forces and interests and being unable to handle success in a reasonable and moderate manner. The Romans, in contrast, had started off in Polybius’ narrative as more barbaric and gradually shifted towards Hellenic behaviour. It is also in this phase of deterioration that Philip becomes an active enemy of the Romans in the First and Second Macedonian Wars. The two states meet in conflict in the narrative when Philip is in his decline into tyranny and barbarity. In terms of the Hellenic image of the Romans, while groups and individual Romans are shown by Polybius to occasionally lapse in their reasoning, self-restraint, and moderation between the years 215 and 203  (Books 7–15), for the most part the Romans as a whole still demonstrate appropriate integrity and virtue.¹⁰⁸ ¹⁰⁷ Cf. Stewart (2000) 40 for anti-Macedonian imagery on the Great Altar and (2004) 218–36 for the Lesser Attalid Dedication. See also Crawley Quinn (2013) 347–8 for this anti-Macedonian propaganda by the Attalids. Crawley Quinn justifiably saw Polybius repeating this imagery half a century later, although then claims that the historian no longer needed to define the Macedonians as barbarians as they were now firmly under Roman control. This, however, does not appreciate Polybius’ documentation of shifting Greek opinion and politics, nor his subtle use of cultural politics in the Histories. ¹⁰⁸ Cf. Champion (2004) 146–50. For the Romans as a group deviating from the good characteristics of the community, see e.g. the Roman sack of Syracuse and appropriation of artwork (9.10.1–13; cf. 39.2–3), for Scipio’s order to kill all the citizens at New Carthage and the brutality of the Roman sack of the city (10.15.4–5), the breakdown of discipline among Africanus’s Spanish troops and the subsequent harsh punishment of the ringleaders (11.25.1–30.5), and the suggestion that the Romans no longer

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They had therefore not yet started to undergo the political decline hinted at by Polybius in Book 6 (6.57.1–9).¹⁰⁹ Roman enemies, in fact, provide a stark contrast to Roman virtue. Even the Carthaginians, who are consistently described as showing a similar preparedness and vigour in their fight in the Second Punic War, are ultimately described at the final battle of Zama by Polybius as cowardly barbarians (15.13.3–4: . . . τοῖς δὲ μισθοφόροις τῶν Καρχηδονίων οὐ συνεγγιζόντων οὐδὲ παραβοηθούντων, ἀλλ᾽ ἀποδειλιώντων ταῖς ψυχαῖς, πέρας ἐνέκλιναν οἱ βάρβαροι . . .). Their final confrontation conforms to the larger narrative trend in the Histories that depicts Rome as always on the defensive against treacherous, aggressive, and barbaric antagonists (15.8.1–14). The same thread runs through the narrative of their major encounter with Philip. While, in Polybius’ narrative, it is from 202  and the end of the Hannibalic War that the Romans start to decline collectively (in Books 16–29), in the decisive conflict between Philip and Rome in the Second Macedonian War (200–197 ) the Romans are only at the very beginning of their descent, while Philip has already fallen (cf. 18.35). Equally, the Achaean League has reached its constitutional peak when Philip has reached his worst, and the disintegration of their relationship is thereby explained by this difference in conduct. During this war, therefore, Rome and the Achaean League represent the virtuous state of good governance and Hellenic ideals, while Philip represents the irrational and selfish state of tyrannical bad governance and barbarity. In this fight between liberty and tyranny, between Hellenic and barbaric behaviour, there could only be one right outcome for the Greeks.

Part 3: The War against the Barbarian: The Second Macedonian War (200–196 ) In the Histories, the Second Macedonian War is presented not only as a fight against a cruel and ruthless tyrant but also as a fight against a barbaric enemy. Macedon was no longer a force for the good of the Greek world, but a threat to its liberty and autonomy. The promise of a united front against the ‘clouds in the West’ (Plb. 5.104.10) led by the benevolent hegemony of Macedon had been crushed almost as soon as it had risen and the Macedonian king’s good reputation, as so frequently foreshadowed by Polybius, had been reversed—he had become preserve moral integrity in war as they sacrifice Peloponnesians and Aetolians while holding themselves back in reserve (13.3.6–8; cf. 10.25.1–5). For individuals who contravene this image, see M. Claudius Marcellus who is accused of behaving more like a simpleton than a general (10.32.7–8; see also Walbank HCP II 242–3, ad. 10.32.1–33.7.) and Gaius Livius, who is criticized for drunkenness (8.27.1–9, 30.6; see also Walbank HCP II 102, ad. 8.25.7). The excellence of Scipio Africanus offers a sharp and prominent contrast to the above negative images of the Romans during this period. ¹⁰⁹ See Champion (2004) 151–69 for the increasing degeneration of the Romans (and Achaeans) from Books 16 to 39.

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the enemy to be fought against. The Romans, following requests of aid, had replaced the Macedonian king as the protectors of the Greek world and come to take up the Hellenic cause. Aristaenus’ comments at the crucial Achaean assembly of 198 , highlighting Philip’s weakness and past abuse of the Greeks, reinforce the justice of this image and transition (Livy 32.21–3; cf. Chapter 3). Polybius’ conception of tyrants and barbarians, the inevitability of their fall from power, and the rightness of those who depose them, also supports this interpretation. Polybius’ narrative of the early stages of the Second Macedonian War is, like that of the defection of Achaean League, unfortunately lost with the entirety of Book 17. After the Romans’ ultimatum at Abydus in 201  recorded in Book 16 (Plb. 16.34), Polybius’ narrative breaks off and we must rely on Livy’s text for the Roman declaration of war and the events of the first two years (cf. Livy, Books 31–2).¹¹⁰ These include the first significant battles between Philip and Rome in Dassaretia and at the Eordaea Pass in 200  (Livy 31.37–40), the battle at Aous River in 199  (32.5–12), as well as Philip’s retreat through and plunder of Thessaly (32.13), the defection of Epirus (32.14), the battle of Atrax, a Macedonian victory (32.17–18), the Roman capture of Anticyra and Elatea (32.18) and the defection of the Achaean League in 198  (32.19–23).¹¹¹ While Macedon had enjoyed some successes (notably at the siege at Atrax, and against Aetolian and Dardanian incursions), the advantage lay decisively with Rome. At the end of 198 , Philip was hemmed in at Tempe and devoid of his most significant ally, the Achaean League. The tyrant had finally been abandoned by his subjects, as Polybius’ theory of constitutional change predicted.

The Conference of Nicaea, 198 : Macedon vs. Aetolia (Plb. 18.1–5) Polybius’ surviving account resumes with Book 18 in the year 198  after the Achaean defection, when Philip and Flamininus meet at Nicaea to discuss terms for peace (Plb. 18.1–10; cf. Livy 32.32–6).¹¹² The perspective of the narrative is from that of the Romans and their Greek allies—Polybius indicates that his source for this event was either a Roman or a Roman ally as he explains that he is only able to describe what Flamininus reported back to the Greeks following his private meeting with Philip on the second day (18.8.8). This one-sided perspective will, of ¹¹⁰ Walbank, HCP II 548. ¹¹¹ For full descriptions of these events, see Walbank (1940) 142–4 (Eordaea), 148–53 (Aous), 153–4 (Thessaly); cf. Hammond & Walbank (1988) 423–7. See Kleu (2015) 151–83 for Philip’s naval policy in the Second Macedonian War. ¹¹² For the conference of Nicaea, see Walbank (1940) 159–63, HCP II 548–64, and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 428. See also Eckstein (1976) 119–42 for Flamininus’ campaign against Philip V in 198  and Pfeilschifter (2005) 91–111 for a general overview of the confrontation between the Roman commander and the Macedonian king.

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course, influence the character of the conference and the presentation of the Macedonian king during it; we should therefore look upon Polybius’ commentary with a degree of caution. The narrative pace slows down (the conference and its result take up twelve chapters of text), the amount of detail increases, and speeches give a voice to the historical agents. Explicit commentary by Polybius is kept to a minimum and it is the interaction of the players themselves that reveals the most about their characters and the tensions within the Greek world at the time. There is also the distinct feeling that more is going on underneath Polybius’ report, as we will discuss. Upon their first meeting, Polybius claims that everyone (meaning, no doubt, the Romans and their Greek allies) thought the king opened proceedings with vulgarity (φορτικῶς): Philip at first refuses to obey Flamininus’ order to come ashore (τοῦ δὲ Τίτου κελεύοντος αὐτὸν ἀποβαίνειν, διαναστὰς ἐκ τῆς νεὼς οὐκ ἔφησεν ἀποβήσεσθαι), issuing a challenge to the Roman’s expression of authority and superiority.¹¹³ Upon Flamininus then asking him what he feared, Philip replied that he feared no one but the gods, but distrusted most of those present, especially the Aetolians (φοβεῖσθαι μὲν ἔφησεν ὁ Φίλιππος οὐδένα πλὴν τοὺς θεούς, ἀπιστεῖν δὲ τοῖς πλείστοις τῶν παρόντων, μάλιστα δ᾽Αἰτωλοῖς). Surprised Flamininus asserted that the danger was the same for all, but the king explained that if anything should happen to the Aetolian strategos, Phaineas, there were many who could take his place, but if anything should happen to himself, there was no one at present who could rule Macedon (Plb. 18.1.5–10). This caution is understandable and even prudent when viewed from a Macedonian perspective: the chaotic aftermath of Alexander’s death and the resultant dynastic wars had only relatively recently eased, and another unsecured succession at this critical point, under the threat of a Roman intervention, could be lethal for the kingdom. From a Greek and Roman perspective, however, this answer would no doubt have caused ill-will. The participants of the conference as well as the readers of Polybius’ narrative would be reminded of the contrast between the monarchical nature of Macedonian rule, its tendency to distinguish the king and his successors from ordinary people, and the more democratic Greek and Roman forms of government which distributed power more widely. Here Philip suggests that he himself is more important as an individual than both the Roman and Greek leaders present—an attentive reader would be reminded of Polybius’ description of a tyrant as being ruled by fear and holding himself apart from others (cf. 5.116; 6.7.6–7). Interestingly, the course of the conference focuses more on the disagreement between Philip and Aetolia than the conflict between Philip and Rome. In fact, here the Macedonians and Aetolians, once merely the subjects of dispute in the

¹¹³ Cf. Erskine (2013b) 90 on expressions of power.

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speeches of other Greek states, are given agency by Polybius and a voice to speak for themselves. Their long series of disagreements comes to a head in this confrontation. Following the layout of terms (Plb. 18.1.13–2.6), Alexander the Isian, an Aetolian, speaks directly to the king (18.3.1).¹¹⁴ He claims that Philip neither truly desires peace nor makes war bravely when he has to do so, but lays traps and watches for opportunities. In assemblies and conferences, Alexander claims, Philip behaves as if at war and in war adopts an unjust and very ignoble course (ἀδίκως . . . καὶ λίαν ἀγεννιῶς) by refusing to meet the enemy in battle, fleeing before them, burning and sacking cities, and depriving the victors of their prizes (18.3.2–3). This, it is claimed, was very different from the conduct of Philip’s predecessors, who fought constantly in the field with each other but rarely destroyed or ruined cities, so that whoever was the victor might rule and be honoured by them (18.3.4–7). To leave war itself untouched while destroying the objects of war (cities), as Philip had done with Thessaly (cf. Livy 32.13), was the work of madness, and extreme madness at that (Plb. 18.3.8: . . . τὸν πόλεμον αὐτὸν καταλιπεῖν μανίας ἔργον εἶναι, καὶ ταύτης ἐρρωμένης). Alexander concludes by asking why Philip had taken the city of Lysimacheia and enslaved the people of Cius, both members of the Aetolian League, when he himself was on friendly terms with the Aetolians, and what pretext he had for taking Echinus, Phthiotic Thebes, Pharsalus and Cremaste Larissa (18.3.9–12). These words go beyond the mere stating of recompense and peace terms and go so far as to question the honour, mental state, and morality of the monarch. They portray Philip as cunning and deceitful, as reversing the Greek norms of diplomacy and warfare, as acting unjustly, ignobly, and irrationally, and therefore again in barbaric terms. Yet, perhaps revealingly, Alexander’s criticisms align nicely with Polybius’ earlier statements regarding Philip’s irrationality and treacherous actions against the Greeks, as well as his views on the laws of war (see Chapter 2). The historian also introduces Alexander as a practical statesman and sufficient speaker (18.3.1: ἀνὴρ δοκῶν πραγματικὸς εἶναι καὶ λέγειν ἱκανός), giving him credibility and overruling the usual disparagement of Aetolians in the Histories (cf. the ruthless and unrestrained behaviour of Dorimachus and Scopas in the Social War).¹¹⁵ Even if Polybius had a reasonably reliable source for the Aetolian’s words, Alexander’s speech conveniently reaffirms his own interpretation of the king through repetition and the authority of another trustworthy voice; the historian may well have given greater emphasis to these themes to adhere with the rest of his narrative. ¹¹⁴ For Alexander the Isian of Aetolia, see Walbank (1940) 160 and HCP II 554; and Grainger (1999a) ‘Alexandros (11)’ and (1999b) 388–9; for his identification as the Aetolian statesman at Plb. 13.1a, see Walbank HCP II 413. ¹¹⁵ References to the behaviour of Dorimachus and Scopas abound throughout Books 4 and 5 but note particularly Plb. 4.3.5–5.8.

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Philip’s answer to the Aetolian’s criticisms is at first restrained and rational if defensive (Plb. 18.4.1–4). He begins by proclaiming that his actions in Thessaly were necessary but is interrupted by the Aetolian strategos Phaineas who exclaims that Philip is talking nonsense and that he must either fight and win or do what his betters tell him. It is at this point that Polybius introduces a new characteristic of the king: we are told that Philip, despite being in a difficult situation, could not refrain from his peculiar habit of jesting (οὐκ ἀπέσχετο τοῦ καθ’αὑτὸν ἰδιώματος), and responds with the quip, ‘This, Phaineas, is clear even to a blind man’ (‘τοῦτο μὲν’ ἔφησεν ‘ὦ Φαινέα, καὶ τυφλῷ δῆλον’). The king was, Polybius states, quick of wit and naturally talented at mocking people (ἦν γὰρ εὔθικτος καὶ πρὸς τοῦτο τὸ μέρος εὖ πεφυκὼς πρὸς τὸ διαχλευάζειν ἀνθρώπους).¹¹⁶ The appearance of this characteristic at this late stage in the narrative (Book 18) is surprising, particularly as we might have expected it to appear earlier if it was an innate characteristic of the king. While this omission could be due to the fragmentary nature of the Histories, the fact that Polybius explicitly describes and comments on this talent here without reference to an earlier example suggests that it is a new observation. If this is the case, then Polybius has deliberately delayed imparting this information to his readers, analeptically displacing it to create a particular effect.¹¹⁷ By revealing this trait at a moment of gravity when restrained and serious behaviour would be expected, Polybius adds further fuel to his disparagement of the Macedonian and highlights his lack of restraint and the fact that his earlier exemplary quick intelligence has been transformed into cunning and deviousness. Without this statement, the episode reveals Philip to be controlled and rational in his response to such an interruption; with it, Philip’s conduct is blackened. Following this interruption, the king returns to his response to Alexander’s speech. As previously seen in Polybius’ report of the assault on Thermum, while Philip presents a valid argument his views implicitly come against those of the historian and his justifications appear weak in the context of the narrative. The king explains that he had installed Macedonian soldiers in Lysimacheia to protect it from being depopulated by the Thracians and had enslaved the Cians while assisting his kinsman—and therefore while doing his duty (18.4.5–6). He defensively ends by throwing the accusation of treachery back at the Aetolians, proclaiming that they had behaved in the same way and regularly acted in a non-Greek manner (18.4.7). He and many of the Greeks, he elaborates, had sent ¹¹⁶ Livy (32.34.3) has altered this comment, making it more negative: et erat dicacior natura, quam regem decet, et ne inter seria quidem risu satis tempans. ‘and he was more facetious by nature than becomes a king, and not even in serious business did he refrain from jesting’ . See also Livy 36.14 when Philip exhibits similar behaviour in mocking Philip of Megalopolis upon capture. ¹¹⁷ This narratological device appears frequently in Polybius’ Histories. Note, for instance, the delayed introduction of Apelles in Philip’s youth which gives the impression that Philip, even as a young king, is the main actor and agent of Macedonian policy in the narrative. See McGing (2010) 104–5 and (2013) 191 for this episode. See also Miltsios (2013) 74–8, but especially 79–83 for his similar use of prolepses.

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embassies to the Aetolians on numerous occasions imploring them, unsuccessfully, to change the law that empowered them to take booty from booty (ἄγειν λάφυρον ἀπὸ λαφύρον), that is, the law that allowed any Aetolian to plunder any other Greek community at war, even if they were friends or allies, without public decree (Plb. 18.4.8). Their treatment of those on friendly terms with them can, therefore, be seen in similar terms, if not worse ones, than that of Philip, as the Aetolians have no precise definition of friendship and enmity (18.5.1–3). The king further criticizes the Aetolians for their arrogance (ὑπερήφανον) in presuming that they are the equals of the Romans and can therefore order the Macedonians to withdraw from Greece (Plb. 18.5.5–6)—they had not defeated Philip in battle during the course of the present war, but rather been beaten by him in 199 (Livy 31.41–2).¹¹⁸ In ending his reply, Philip then requests a definition of what sort of Greece he is being asked to withdraw from and how Flamininus and the Romans would define it, as most of the Aetolians, he claims, are not even Greeks themselves (18.5.4–9: ‘. . . ποίας δὲ κελεύετε με’ φησὶν ‘ἐκχωρεῖν Ἑλλάδος καὶ πῶς ἀφοριζετε ταύτην; αὐτῶν γὰρ Αἰτωλῶν οὐκ εἰσὶν Ἓλληνες οἱ πλείους’). This altercation received a laugh from Flamininus and seems to have encouraged Philip (18.6.1). We may wonder how Polybius’ Greek audience would have reacted to this statement by the king. It is impossible to say, of course, particularly as there would have been varying views on the Aetolians and Philip. Yet, the king’s words seem justified. The Aetolians were punching above their weight, dictating to one of the larger powers in the Mediterranean while only being of middling status themselves. But this assertion may also have invoked and provoked the usual Greek resistance to hegemonic rule. It may have unpleasantly reminded some of the difference in status that Macedon (and the other Hellenistic kingdoms) held, a difference that was usually subverted and mitigated by the mechanisms of euergetism. Alongside this difference in status, the question of Hellenicity is also thrown into the equation. This episode represents a fight between the Aetolians and the Macedonians, two traditional outliers in the Greek world, over who was the more Greek. By allowing such subtext, Polybius creates a narrative that is far more politically loaded for his contemporary Greek audience than might first be evident. The importance of the account of the conference moves beyond the historical past to the present. These speeches and the interaction between the speakers also present two different interpretations of the king’s actions: (1) the aggressive and treacherous version ascribed to by Polybius, the Romans and enemies of the king, and (2) Philip’s claim that he has defended a Greek city from barbarian invaders, has performed his duty in helping a relative, and has acted in a better manner than

¹¹⁸ Walbank (1940) 145.

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those who proclaim themselves Greek. Despite his mockery, he is restrained and reasoned in his response to Alexander’s provocative statement. Yet, neither side emerges clean from this confrontation, and it is difficult to determine who has come out the better. The image of the Aetolians, despite being represented well by the noble and reasonable Alexander, falls in line with the generally hostile view of them in the Histories—they continue to be unscrupulous raiders, viewed by many as on the margins of Greek culture.¹¹⁹ Their confrontation with Philip does not redeem them of this image, but only restates it. But the king’s counter-argument against them does not redeem him either. Philip defends his actions, his honour, and his claim to Hellenism, yet the reader is reminded of his un-Greek monarchical power and recent tyrannical and barbaric tendencies, and his own treatment of the Greeks may be equated with the Aetolian practice of ignoring friendship when advantageous to their own interests. Macedon, then, is not a paragon of Hellenic virtue either and again sits on the margins of Greekness. If this confrontation represented a fight for Greek status, which also asked whether Aetolia was right to bring Rome into Greek affairs and whether Philip was right to act in the way he did, at this stage there is no real answer, and the question remains open to the reader.

The Conference of Nicaea, 198 : Philip vs. Flamininus (Plb. 18.6–12) Following this dispute with the Aetolians, Philip then turns to deal with Rome, the Pergamene king, and the Achaean League, powers in Polybius’ narrative which were either of greater status and size and/or deemed to have better principles than the Aetolians. The outcome of this confrontation is much clearer: the Macedonian king does not fare so well. He gives an answer to the Romans and Attalus indicating that he is not yet fully compliant and considers himself injured (18.6). Philip is playing the victim here, as he did in his defence against Alexander’s accusations. It would be a fairer judgement, he states, if he were to be given the captured ships and men from Chios as Attalus and the Rhodians had been the aggressors, but that he would cede the Peraia to the Rhodians, the surviving ships and men to Attalus, and restore the Nicephorium. In agreeing to return Argos to the Achaeans, he also reminds them at length of their own faithlessness and ingratitude (άθεσίαν . . . καὶ ἀχαριστίαν) in abandoning their alliance with him.¹²⁰

¹¹⁹ Cf. Sacks (1975) 92–106 and Champion (2007) 356–62 on the Aetolians in Polybius. ¹²⁰ This was criticism that the Achaeans no doubt also received from other Greeks at the time (notably the Argives, Dymeans, Corinthians, Acarnanians, and Boeotians who were less inclined to

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Philip then addresses Flamininus and the Romans regarding his withdrawal from Greece and enquires whether this would only entail the relinquishment of places he himself had conquered or also those which he had inherited (18.7). Flamininus remains silent; Walbank suggests that this is because he wanted to encourage hope within the king, but Polybius offers no indication as to what his thoughts are. It might just as well be that the Roman commander was unsure about how to proceed. Regardless of the reason for Flamininus’ silence, Aristaenus and Phaineas are ready with a reply, but the day’s negotiations are postponed due to the lateness of the hour. Philip requests the peace terms in writing so that he can think over them as he is alone and without anyone to consult. Flamininus, the voice of good governance, mocks the king in return, ‘Naturally, Philip, you are now alone, for you have killed all those friends who would give you the best advice’ (18.7.5–6: ‘εἰκότως’ ἔφη ‘Φίλιππε, μόνος εἶ νῦν, τοὺς γὰρ φίλους τοὺς τὰ κράτιστά σοι συμβουλεύσοντας ἀπώλεσας ἅπαντας’). We may question the veracity of this exchange—would the Romans and Macedonians really have been close enough to hear each other even after Philip has moved closer in his boat? Regardless, the narrative function of this piece of direct speech is what is crucial here: it emphasizes and reminds the reader more forcefully of the tyrannical turn that Philip’s reign has taken and the friends, including Aratus and his son, that he has killed off. The final stages of the conference focus on Philip and Flamininus, and their attempts to discuss terms unimpeded by the squabbling of the Greeks. The two main combatants come head to head in talks, as they soon will in battle. Over the next three days an agreement is reached which allows Philip to send an embassy to the Senate to settle the details regarding his withdrawal from Greece. While the Greeks initially did not want to accede to this request, Flamininus was agreeable to the suggestion as it would give him time to find out whether his own command in Macedon and Greece would be renewed. After explaining to the Greeks that no further military action could take place with winter upon them and that any peace terms would have to be ratified by the Senate, the allies consent to the arrangement (18.9.2–10.2). The conference had gone, according to Polybius, as Flamininus had planned and produced an agreeable result giving him the advantage and giving Philip nothing (τά τε καθ’ αὑτὸν ἀσφαλιζόμενος ἐπιμελῶς καὶ πρόλημμα τῷ Φιλίππῳ ποιῶν οὐδέν).¹²¹ Philip, meanwhile, was required to defect to Rome) and later as Polybius felt the need to defend Aristaenus’ actions against claims of treachery in bringing about this change of allegiance (cf. Plb. 18.13–15) and to reinforce the rightness of this policy by blackening the Macedonian king’s image. Cf. Thornton (2020a) 306. ¹²¹ Flamininus’ actions have variously been interpreted either as a means to trick Philip out of the garrisons in Phocis and Locris, or as a scheme to take control of events out of the hands of the Greeks and into those of the Romans, and to prevent the Macedonian king from joining with Antiochus. Livy 32.32.5–8 and Plut. Flam. 1.2 and 7.1, however, indicate that Flamininus was more interested in the extension of his own command and reputation than pursuing even Roman interests. See Walbank (1940) 162, HCP II 559–60, Eckstein (1976) 119–42; Brisson (2018) 87–105.

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withdraw his garrisons from Phocis and Locris and sent an embassy to Rome to sue for peace (18.10.3–5). The result of the conference and Philip’s peace embassy to Rome was negative (18.11). After Flamininus’ associates found out that he would keep his post in Macedon, they denounced Philip to the Senate and brought up the ever contentious ‘fetters of Greece’ (Corinth, Demetrias, and Chalcis). The king’s ambassadors had not been given any instructions regarding these cities, however, as they had not been part of the original negotiations between the Roman commander and king. Since they were unable to answer the Senate’s questions, the peace terms were rejected. The war would continue in the next year with Flamininus in command as he had planned (18.12). While the Macedonian king’s starting and ending position in this episode is weaker than that of the Roman commander, the characters and conduct of Philip and Flamininus have some crucial similarities: both represent two large powers in the Mediterranean who appear exasperated with the quarrelsome demands of the lesser Greek states; both therefore agree to meet and discuss terms in private; both leaders also exhibit an inclination toward jesting and banter. Philip’s dialogue with Flamininus is also one of the few instances in which the king speaks in Polybius’ narrative. However, as highlighted above, Polybius indicates that he got his information about this conference from the allies of the Romans, most likely from the Achaean League, so we may be suspicious of the accuracy of Philip’s words and the coherency of the themes that emerge, particularly as some of what he says was voiced while on a boat on the water (18.1.5–6, 4.1). The historian’s sources, however, would no doubt have encouraged a negative portrayal of the king. The Roman general is, on the other hand, portrayed in a positive light by Polybius, despite Flamininus’ silence, self-interest, and clear deception of Philip. The latter, it may be remembered, was a trait that had been heavily criticized by the historian when it was exhibited by the Macedonian king during his Aegean campaign. There is clearly a double standard here, inspired by the pre-existing prejudice against Philip in Polybius’ storytelling. The historian is not concerned with the Roman commander’s moral trajectory in the same way that he is Philip’s and does not elaborate or criticize him for his devious conduct to the same degree. Flamininus is used as a counter to the declining character of the king, and his portrait is drawn up in a similar way to that of the suspiciously one-sided depiction of Antigonus Doson in Book 2 (cf. Chapter 1), and even that of Philip himself in his early years. Moreover, Flamininus stands alone in the narrative: he appears as the sole Roman protector of the Greeks at this event with no mention of other Roman officers who accompanied him conversing or contributing to the discussion (e.g. Appius Claudius Nero who was with Flamininus; 18.8.6). This mirrors Philip’s earlier isolated presence in the story between 221 and 219, when he was depicted as a protector of the Greeks without the presence of Macedonian

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officials (cf. Chapter 2; Aratus was also portrayed in the same way). Flamininus’ faults are similarly fudged over at this point in the narrative to stress his virtues and hint at the benefits that he will confer on the Greeks in opposition to Philip: chance, Polybius asserts, had little to do with Flamininus’ success in this respect (ἐπὶ βραχὺ μὲν καὶ ταὐτομάτοθ συνεργήσαντος), but rather his foresight in managing all matters (18.12.2: διὰ τῆς αὐτοῦ προνοίας ἁπάντων κεχειρισμένων). He had shown sagacity equal to that of any Roman (18.12.3: πάνυ γὰρ ἀγχίνους, εἰ καὶ τις ἕτερος Ῥωμαίων, [καὶ] ὁ προειρημένος ἀνὴρ γέγονεν), having managed not only public but also private matters with skill and good sense (εὐστόχως . . . καὶ νουνεχῶς) despite being not more than 30.¹²² By his solitary presence and exaggerated good qualities, Flamininus has clearly surpassed Philip as the saviour of the Greeks. Right before the final battle, therefore, the narrative suggests that the war against Philip ‘the barbaric tyrant’ is in good hands.

An Uncertain Turning-Point: The Battle of Cynoscephalae, 197  (Plb. 18.18–27) Polybius’ narrative of the pivotal battle of Cynoscephalae in 197  (18.18–27; cf. Livy 33.6–10) continues in a similar manner to his account of the conference of Nicaea.¹²³ Even though the opening report of troop numbers and Philip’s address to his army before the battle is missing (as suggested by Livy’s account of them at 33.3–5), it is still long at nine chapters, comprises a detailed breakdown of the Macedonian and Roman movements, and contains little commentary on the conduct of either side by the author.¹²⁴ The characters, their actions and words, are once again made to speak for themselves. Prior to this battle, the audience would already have read about the tremendous speed, efficiency, and military skill of both sides, but also about the defeats each had suffered at the hands of the other in the years beforehand: the Macedonians were defeated at the Eordaea Pass and Aous River in 200–199  (Livy 31.39–40; 32.5–12), the Romans at the battle of Atrax in 198  (32.17–18). The size of the two armies when they came together

¹²² Before his consulship, Flamininus had only held the quaestorship (Livy 32.7.8–9), but he had served as military tribune (Plut. Flam. 1.3), pro-praetor in 205 and 204 (Livy 29.13.6; Plut. Flam. 1.4) and served on two commissions in Samnium and Apulia in 201/0 (Livy 21.4.1–3), and Venusia in 200 (Livy 31.49.6). For Flamininus’ career, see Walbank HCP II 559–60; Eckstein (1976) 119–42 and Champion (2004) 213–14. ¹²³ For the details of the battle, see Leake (1835) 457, Kromayer (1907) 63 (with maps and bibliography), Walbank (1940) 167–72 and HCP II 572–85, and Hammond & Walbank (1988) 432–43. Hammond (1988a) 60–82 demonstrates Polybius’ accuracy in describing the geography of the site of the battle; Hammond (1989) 349–50 and Eckstein (1995b) 183–92 point out how Polybius tailors his narrative of the battle and Philip V and Flamininus to highlight good and bad generalship. Livy follows Polybius’ narrative but produces a much more evenly matched fight between the two commanders to enhance the drama and desperation of the battle. ¹²⁴ It seems Polybius had a Macedonian source here, Walbank HCP II 582.

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for this decisive moment was, Livy states, also roughly equal although the Romans were superior in cavalry.¹²⁵ The narrative gives a strong sense of equality between the two forces, despite earlier signs of weakness in Macedon’s position and the strength of the Roman one. This impression of equality may also have been the perception of many at the time as the outcome of the battle would have been uncertain for all involved. Philip was known for having countered expectations of failure and defeat with striking speed, efficiency, and foresight in the past, turning difficult situations into victories. Therefore, while the Romans, under Flamininus’ leadership, had recently demonstrated similar levels of military skill and efficiency within Greece, there was still no guarantee that Rome would win. Moreover, Polybius indicates that the Greeks, more familiar with Macedonian military equipment and formations than Roman ones, could not understand how this barbarian force could defeat the until-now unbeatable power of the Macedonian phalanx (cf. Plb. 18.32.13). Polybius’ account of the battle of Cynoscephalae itself reflects and emphasizes this uncertainty. The narrative opens with a detailed account of the two armies trying to find one another in the high hills of Cynoscephalae and their search for suitable fighting ground over the course of seven days before the final battle.¹²⁶ The perspective is focalized through the eyes of the historical agents, creating vividness and suspense. Flamininus, knowing only that Philip was in Thessaly, tells his troops to cut stakes in preparation for battle before marching from the Malian Gulf into the region and establishing his camp about fifty stades from Pherae (Plb. 18.18.1–19.1; Livy 33.6.2). He sends out scouts the next day to locate the enemy camp, while Philip, hearing that the Romans have encamped near Thebes, departs from Larissa with his entire army and takes up a position thirty stades from the city. At dawn the advance sections of both armies spot each other over the hills of Pherae, but both commanders decide to remain in camp for the day. On the fourth day a skirmish ensues on the near side of Pherae, but after prolonged struggle both forces retire to camp (18.19.2–12; Livy 33.6.3–7). On the fifth day, dissatisfied with the ground around Pherae, both armies move towards Scotussa. High hills separate them on their march, and both are once again ignorant of the other’s location for two days. Flamininus finally stops at the sanctuary of Thetis at Pharsalus, and Philip at Melambium in Scotussa. That night, Polybius reports, there was a violent thunderstorm and on the seventh morning a mist lay over the land so dark that one could not see those close at hand (18.20.7; Livy 33.6.8–12). In the morning Philip

¹²⁵ Philip had roughly 25,500 men comprising of 16,000 phalangites, 2,000 peltasts, 2,000 Thracians, 2000 Illyrians, 1,500 mercenary auxiliaries, and 2,000 cavalry (Livy 33.3.5, 4.4–5); Flamininus had roughly 32,000 men with over 8,000 of them Greek (Plut. Flam. 7.2; Livy 33.4.4–6). Cf. Walbank (1940) 167 and HCP II 572. ¹²⁶ For the movement of the two armies and the difficulty of identifying the landscape and the site of the battle, see Walbank (1940) 168–70, HCP II 574–8, Hammond (1988a) 60–82, and Hammond (1988b) 437–40.

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attempts to advance but makes little progress, so encamps and sends a covering force to occupy the hills that lie between him and the enemy (18.20.8–9; Livy 33.7.1–3). This covering force unexpectedly meets with a Roman scouting party on the hills and, while both are initially thrown into disorder, they quickly take the offensive and report back to their commanders. At first, the Romans are overpowered by the Macedonians, but reinforcements of 500 horse and 2,000 foot soon reverse the situation and the Macedonians flee to the summit of the hills and send to the king for help (18.21; Livy 33.7.4–7). Philip, who never expected a general engagement due to the weather, quickly dispatches his cavalry and mercenaries, upon which the tide of the battle once again turns, and the Romans are pushed back from the heights. Only the bravery of the Aetolian cavalry prevented them from being entirely routed (18.22; Livy 33.7.8–13). Upon seeing his light infantry and cavalry giving way, Flamininus leads out his whole force and draws them up close to the hills. At the same time, Philip receives a message, recorded in direct speech, that the enemy is fleeing, that he should not lose the opportunity, that the barbarians will not stand before them, and that the time is now (18.22.8: ‘Βασιλεῦ, φεύγουσιν οἱ πολέμιοι; μὴ παρῇς τὸν καιρόν; οὐ μένουσιν ἡμᾶς οἱ βάρβαροι; σὴ νῦν ἐστιν ἡμέρα, σὸς ὁ καιρός’, cf. Livy 33.8.1). Polybius claims that Philip, although dissatisfied with the ground, allowed himself to be provoked into battle on the rough, broken and high Cynoscephalae (‘The Dog’s Heads’) hills due to the excessive confidence of these reports (τὴν ὑπερβολὴν τῆς εὐελπιστίας τῶν ἀγγελλόντων; 18.22.9–10; Livy 33.8.2). The two armies finally meet in full battle, yet even at this stage the outcome of the fray is uncertain. After addressing his troops, Flamininus orders his right wing to stay where they are with the elephants in front of them and takes the left wing himself to meet and support his retreating advance force (18.23; Livy 33.8.3–6).¹²⁷ Philip, with the greater part of his army now drawn up outside the entrenchment, advances with the peltasts and the right wing of the phalanx to the top of the hills, giving orders for the rest of the army to follow him immediately. Upon seeing his mercenaries being pursued by the reinforced Romans, Philip is compelled to go to their assistance and therefore to decide the whole battle, Polybius proclaims, on the spur of the moment, despite the greater portion of his centre and left wing only just starting to approach the crest of the hills. Gathering his forces and doubling and closing the ranks on the right wing, Philip orders his men to lower their spears and charge. Flamininus, having received his retreating advanced force into the left wing of his maniples, also falls upon the enemy (18.24; Livy 33.8.7–14, 9.1).

¹²⁷ Cf. Nicolai (2018) 126–7 who discusses this epipolesis type speech in relation to other typical scenes of battle exhortation in Polybius, drawing out the difficulty of calculating his interventions in recording these speeches and thus emphasizing the importance of focusing on function over reliability in approaching them.

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Polybius describes the clash of the two armies with striking vividness: so deafening (μετὰ βίας καὶ κραυγῆς) is their encounter, as both armies shout their war cries and the bystanders cheer each side on, he claims, that it inspired terror and anxiety (ἐκπληκτικὸν καὶ παραστατικὸν; 18.25.1; Livy 33.9.2). Philip’s right wing overwhelms the Romans as they charge from higher ground, in weightier formation, and, on this occasion, with arms better suited to the situation. The rest of the Macedonian army, however, was only just drawing up to the summit and had not yet established itself in battle order. Seeing this, Flamininus bolsters the Roman right with his elephants and leads his maniples to the attack. The Macedonian left, unable to form a phalanx in time for this assault, gives way and flees (18.25.2–7; Livy 33.9.3–11). While most of the Romans pursue these fugitives, a tribune, taking twenty maniples, wheels round onto the rear of the advancing Macedonian right and attacks them from behind (18.26.1–5). Philip had at first been convinced that he had won the battle judging from the success of his right wing; but now, seeing his soldiers throwing away their arms and the enemy attacking them from the rear, he retires a short distance to observe the whole scene. When he sees the Romans pursuing his left wing up to the summits he decides to flee, collecting as many Thracians and Macedonians as he can along the way. The remaining Macedonian forces then hold up their spears to indicate their surrender, but the Romans, unfamiliar with this custom, fall upon them from above and cut them down (18.26.6–12; Livy 33.10.1–7). The battle is over, and Rome is victorious.

The Weakness of Macedon and the Strength of Rome Explained Uncertainty and suspense are heightened in Polybius’ account of the battle of Cynoscephalae by his description of the dark and foggy weather conditions, of the struggle of each army to find one another among the high hills, and of the near constant toing and froing of advantage and perspective. The lack of authorial presence only increases the vividness of the scene as the readers are forced to witness the events as they appear to the historical agents—they too do not know where the enemy is located, they too believe the Macedonians will win after the right wing has crushed the Roman left, they too are surprised by the reversal of fortune brought about by the chance manoeuvre of a Roman tribune.¹²⁸ Chance has played a crucial role in the outcome of the battle. Yet, for Polybius there are also explicable reasons for this result. Philip, against his better judgement, is persuaded to attack the Roman forces upon uneven ground and is compelled to decide the fate of the battle—and the fate of the ¹²⁸ For Polybius’ use of focalization to create vividness and suspense, see especially Miltsios (2013) ch. 4.

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war—on the spur of the moment with only a small portion of his army ready for combat on the hills. As was the trend over the previous years of Philip’s career, success carries him away from reasoned and cautious action. While in the past, such conduct had not been detrimental to his pursuits, in this instance, his impulsiveness and inability to restrain his excitement brings about a reversal of the positions of the combatants and his defeat. This moment of weakness on the king’s part is the turning point in the battle. Flamininus, on the other hand, is shown to hold his nerve in this regard and presents a force of restraint and calculation throughout the conflict. Yet here it is not only Flamininus as an individual commander that enables the Romans to carry the day as it was at Nicaea, but also the bravery and initiative of a Roman tribune without whom the Romans might have been defeated.¹²⁹ While Polybius does not openly comment on the specific characteristics of each side in this episode and how they affected the result of battle, it is clear that the collective character of the Romans as a whole gives them the edge, while Philip’s present tendency to react immoderately to success, and the influence of the impassioned words of his commander, are his undoing. There is more than difference in character, however, in Polybius’ explanation of the Macedonian defeat—it also comes down to differences in military equipment and formation as he outlines in the chapters following Cynoscephalae (18.28–32). Here Polybius describes the differences in their arms, unit formations, and manoeuvrability, and draws out the advantages and disadvantages of each— while the Macedonian phalanx was impenetrable and powerful once formed, it was slow to establish itself, difficult to manoeuvre and change direction, and could not be used effectively on broken ground. Roman legions, on the other hand, were far quicker to form, more agile and adaptable to a variety of terrains.¹³⁰ Polybius includes such a discussion in his work at this point because, as he mentions, some of the Greeks of his own day, even after experiencing several major battles between Roman and Macedonian armies (i.e. Cynoscephalae in 197 , Magnesia ad Sipylum in 190 , and Pydna in 168 ), were surprised at the outcome of Cynoscephalae and considered it to have been the work of chance (18.28.3–5, 32.13). The Macedonian formation in earlier times had proven to be superior to others in use in Asia and Greece, while the Romans had shown themselves superior to the Carthaginians, Celts, and Iberians (18.28.2–5). If Polybius’ Greek audience were to fully understand how Rome rose to power, they also needed to ¹²⁹ It seems Polybius had a Greek, possibly Aetolian, source here as he is able to name the two Aetolians, Archedamus and Eupolemus, who assisted the Romans in the battle, but unable to give the names of the tribunes. On the other hand, Livy only mentions the tribunes and not the Aetolians (33.7.7). Note Walbank HCP II 580. ¹³⁰ This also adds to Polybius’ earlier comparison of the Greek and Roman ways of making and carrying stakes at 18.18. For the Macedonian army, see Walbank HCP II 586–8; Markle (1977) 323–39; Juhel (2002) 401–12; Juhel & Sekunda (2009) 104–8; Anson (2010) 51–68. For the Roman army at this time, Walbank HCP II 588–90; de Ligt (2007) 114–31; and Dobson (2008).

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understand how the Romans were militarily superior to the more familiar Macedonian style of combat. This section is, interestingly, also explicitly connected with Polybius’ earlier treatment of military affairs in Book 6, as he opens the discussion by referring back to a promise he made (now lost) to draw a comparison between the military equipment and formations of the Macedonians and Romans when the appropriate time arose. He asserts after his account of the battle of Cynoscephalae that this is the right moment to do so as his readers have now read about how both armies perform in the field (18.28.1).¹³¹ This statement confirms not only that Macedon featured in Book 6—at least, we can be certain, in relation to Polybius’ account of the Roman military system—but also that this episode should be associated with Polybius’ theory that the type of politeia of a state was crucial for its success. Furthermore, it becomes clear that the historian had planned to continue his account of his theory with reference to Macedon at this point. The historian had formerly outlined how the Roman military system, their recruitment and distribution of commanders and soldiers into legions, their construction of camps, and their preservation of order through reward and punishment, was an important part of Rome’s politeia and was therefore an important part of its ability to obtain success and power in the Mediterranean. Book 18 expands on these theories by directly comparing the Macedonian and Roman military arms and formations, and therefore implicitly comparing important parts of their politeia. Therefore, not only is the Macedonian state inferior to the Roman because its political constitution is that of a degenerate tyranny as opposed to a mixed constitution near its peak, but its military might is also subordinate in agility, efficiency, and order. The downfall of Macedon is not only explained by the actions of its monarch, but also by its politeia.

The Roman Takeover of the Hellenic Cause: Flamininus, the Saviour of the Greeks Book 18 of Polybius’ Histories is highly important for the transition of power from Macedon to Rome, from Philip to Flamininus, and much of the description regarding their interaction is detailed, dramatic, vivid, and suspenseful. This continues to be the case for the Roman commander’s announcement at the

¹³¹ Plb. 18.28.1: ἐγὼ δὲ κατὰ μὲν τὴν ἕκτην βύβλον ἐν ἐπαγγελίᾳ καταλιπὼν ὅτι λαβὼν τὸν ἁρμόζοντα καιρὸν σύγκρισιν ποιήσομαι τοῦ καθοπλισμοῦ Ῥωμαίων καὶ Μακεδόνων, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τῆς συντάξεως τῆς ἑκατέρων, τί διαφέρουσιν ἀλλήων πρὸς τὸ χείρον καὶ τί πρὸς τὸ βέλτιον, νῦν ἐπ’ αὐτῶν τῶν πράξεων πειράσομαι τὴν ἐπαγγελίαν ἐπὶ τέλος ἀγαγεῖν. In my sixth book, I left it as a promise that, at the appropriate time, I would make a comparison of the Roman and Macedonian equipment and formations, how they differ from each other for better or worse, and now, having seen them in practice, I will endeavour to fulfil this promise.

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Isthmian Games in 196  proclaiming that all the Greeks will be liberated (18.46.5: ἐλευθέρους, ἀφρουρήτους, ἀφορολογήτους, νόμοις χρωμένους τοῖς πατρίοις).¹³² This is a significant moment not just because it represented the defeat of Macedon, but also because it signalled the final demonstration in Polybius’ narrative that Rome and Macedon had changed places politically and ideologically. Macedon was now the defeated barbarian state that had threatened Greek freedom; Rome was now the protector of that freedom and promoter of Greek interests. Yet, even at this point questions surrounding the issue of Roman hegemony and their intervention in the east are still in play both in the historical past and within the contemporary context of the Histories. Polybius indicates that this reversal in the stance of the two powers was not recognized by the Greeks after the battle, or even before this announcement a few months later as the Aetolians were initially suspicious of Roman intentions. The interview between Flamininus and Philip following the battle was conducted with perfect courtesy and the Aetolians had therefore thought that the Roman general had been bribed (18.34–9). Rome’s allies were equally worried about the Roman decision not to depose Philip as they believed that, should he remain, the king would immediately try to wriggle out of the situation and look for ways to re-establish his power (Plb. 18.36.5–9, 37.11–12). Moreover, the Aetolians were denied the reacquisition of the towns of Larissa Cremaste, Pharsalus, and Echinus, despite Philip’s willingness to return them. In response to their complaint, Flamininus claimed that the original alliance between Aetolia and Rome from the First Macedonian War, which stated that booty would go to Rome and territory to Aetolia, had been invalidated by the Aetolians’ peace with Philip in 206  (cf. 9.28–39; Livy 29.12.1). Furthermore, the aforementioned towns had willingly surrendered to the Romans during the second war and would not therefore have been included in these terms. Only Thebes, which had refused to comply with Roman demands and fell by arms, would be returned (18.38.3–9). While this announcement pleased the other Greeks (18.39.1–2), such a dispute over terms would no doubt also have encouraged suspicion of Roman interference. These concerns were exacerbated further upon receipt of the senatus consultum which stated that all the Greeks in Asia and Europe were to be free and subject to their own laws, that Philip was to surrender those Greeks subject to his rule to the Romans before the Isthmian Games and to leave free the towns of Euromus, Pedasa, Bargylia, Iasos, Abydus, Thasos, Myrina, and Perinthus.¹³³ Flamininus ¹³² For the whole Isthmian episode, see Plb. 18.4–48. Cf. Livy 33.30–5; Plut. Flam. 10–11; App. Mac. 13; Just. 30.4. See also Walbank (1940) 178–81 and HCP II 609–14; Ferrary (1988) 45–132; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 445–6; Walsh (1996) 344–63; Eckstein (1990) 45–71 and (2008) 283–302; and Dmitriev (2011) 145–65. ¹³³ Philip’s possessions in Illyria are not mentioned, suggesting that Philip had already withdrawn from Lissus and the Scodra basin. Cf. Walbank (1940) 179–80; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 445.

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was also to write to Prusias about restoring the freedom of Cius (18.44). While the other Greeks were overjoyed by these terms, the Aetolians spoke ill of the decree and, Polybius claims, confused the minds of those who would listen to them (18.45.1–6). They asserted that there were in fact two decisions in the senatus consultum about the cities garrisoned by Philip: one ordered him to withdraw his garrisons and surrender the cities to the Romans; the second ordered him to withdraw his garrisons and set the cities free. The towns to be set free were those in Asia, while those to be surrendered to the Romans were those in Europe, particularly Oreus, Eretria, Chalcis, Demetrias, and Corinth. The Aetolians, therefore, claimed that the Romans were merely replacing Philip as master of Greece. These doubts, Polybius states, were received and accepted by some of the Greeks and became more prominent in the build-up to the Games, some considering it impossible for the Romans to abandon certain places, while others thought the most famous places and cities would be freed but the less illustrious ones kept and used to serve Roman interests (18.45.7–46.3). By recording Greek worries about Roman interference, Polybius encourages his readers to question whether Rome would prove to be a benevolent and successful hegemon of the Greeks where Philip and Macedon had failed. They are encouraged to reflect on whether, in the intervening forty to fifty years since the defeat of the Macedonian king, the Romans had fulfilled the promises that they had made and whether their presence in Greece had been a good thing. The narrative therefore draws out the historical concerns about Roman hegemony in the 190s in order to express the same concerns and ask the same questions in Polybius’ own day: the historian is using his historical narrative to contribute to contemporary political discussion. Through consideration of past events and debates, he offers his own answer to this question and attempts to lead his Greek readers to a more positive reception of their new hegemon, but also to exhort his Roman readers to follow a more beneficent course when it came to their Greek allies, to remind them of their earlier promises of benevolence and leniency. This exhortation to his Roman readers is subtly contained in his account of the Romans’ own uncertainty about what to do with the fetters of Greece, Flamininus’ influence, and the Greeks’ reaction to it. While the Senate had decided all other questions, it was up to the ten commissioners sent to settle affairs to determine the fate of the ‘fetters’ of Greece, Chalcis, Demetrias, and Corinth. It was only after the commissioners had arrived in Corinth that they were persuaded by Flamininus of the need to liberate all the Greek cities now garrisoned by Philip, including the ‘fetters’, if they wanted to gain complete renown among the Greeks and in general convince everyone that they had not originally crossed the sea for the sake of their own advantage but for the freedom of the Greeks (Plb. 18.45.9). Flamininus thereby convinced his colleagues to set Corinth free immediately, handing it over to the Achaeans as originally agreed, while he remained in control of the Acrocorinthus, Demetrias, and Chalcis (18.45.8–12).

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Polybius’ narrative endeavours to negate and discredit the hostile views regarding Roman intentions further by his description of the reaction to the announcement. The account of Flamininus’ declaration at the Games is, like the conference of Nicaea and the battle of Cynoscephalae before it, described in vivid terms and emphasizes the disbelief of the Greeks. They cannot believe their ears when the herald announces that the whole of mainland Greece is to be free, thinking that they are dreaming owing to the unexpectedness of the proclamation (18.46.7: δοκοῦν ὡς ἄν εἰ καθ’ὕπνον ἀκούειν τῶν λεγομένων διὰ τὸ παράδοξον τοῦ συμβαίνοντος). They demand the announcement be repeated in the middle of the stadium so that they can see the speaker make such an incredible announcement. Upon its repetition the silence of the crowd erupts into a mighty burst of cheering, the athletics are forgotten, and everyone talks as if beside themselves (οἵον εἰ παραστατικοὶ τὰς διανοίας ἦσαν) (18.46.8–11). At the end of the games, Polybius claims that Flamininus was nearly killed by the press of the crowd as they wished to thank him, look him in the face and call him saviour (σωτῆρα προσφωνῆσαι βουλόμενοι), and grasp his hand (18.46.12; cf. Livy 34.50.9). The historian’s final remarks only heighten the sense of excitement experienced by the Greeks as he claims that while their gratitude might seem to have been excessive (δοκούσης δὲ τῆς εὐχαριστίας ὑπερβολικῆς γενέσθαι), one could confidently say that it was far inferior to the greatness of the event (θαρρῶν ἄν τις εἶπε διότι πολὺ καταδεεστέραν εἶναι συνέβαινε τοῦ τῆς πράξεως μεγέθους). It was a wonderful thing (θαυμαστὸν), he says, that the Romans and their general Flamininus should hold this purpose, incurring every expense and meeting every danger for the sake of the freedom of the Greeks (ὥστε πᾶσαν ὑπομεῖναι δαπάνην καὶ πάντα κίνδυνον χάριν τῆς τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐλευθερίας). And a great thing (μέγα) to have brought a force consistent with this design. And still greatest of all that no accidents hindered their endeavour (τούτων δὲ μέγιστον ἔτι τὸ μηδὲν ἐκ τῆς τύχης ἀντιπαῖσαι πρὸς τὴν ἐπιβολήν),¹³⁴ but that everything came together without exception towards this one key moment (πρὸς ἕνα καιρὸν ἐκδραμεῖν); that by one proclamation all of the Greeks inhabiting Asia and Europe became free, ungarrisoned, subject to no tribute and governed by their own laws (18.46.14–15). He concludes, then, with an ascending tricolon, recognizing the incredible nature of their purpose, the fact that they acted and prepared everything appropriately in pursuing this purpose, and that, unbelievably, tyche had not resisted this venture—the success of the Romans and the freeing of the Greeks—but brought it to successful fruition. In accordance with tyche’s design, therefore, the Romans were meant to free the Greeks from Macedonian aggression and oppression.

¹³⁴ Walbank HCP II 614 suggests that there is no real personification of tyche here.

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In this excitement, Flamininus is presented as a saviour of the Greeks, but not just from Macedonian domination.¹³⁵ He is also shown to have restrained the extent of Roman interference. While his previous conduct towards Philip might be considered devious, by his beneficent policy towards the Greeks he represents the excellence of Rome at the height of her constitutional peak in Polybius’ narrative.¹³⁶ It seems Flamininus also appropriated the identification with Zeus formerly favoured by Philip V.¹³⁷ This implicitly validates the decision of some of the Greeks (i.e. the Achaeans) to side with Rome over Philip before Macedon’s defeat. Furthermore, Flamininus’ restrained, astute, and reasoned behaviour resulting in success and adoration by the Greeks also turns him into a figure for emulation: he becomes an exemplar for the Romans and how they should behave towards their Greek allies. As had happened with Philip in his early years, the expectations of Roman brutality and dominance were (at least for the time being) countered; Flamininus’ announcement seemed to prove the opposite. The positions of Philip and Flamininus, Macedon and Rome, in cultural and ideological terms had been reversed. The Greek community was now under the protection of the Romans, previously thought a barbarian people, and they had even gone a step further than Philip. While the king had accepted the role of leading and protecting the Greeks against a ‘barbarian’ invasion in 217 , he had failed them, first by not being able to prevent the Roman incursion, and secondly by turning into the very threat to their liberty that they had feared. The Romans had similarly accepted the role of protector in 200  (if also for propaganda reasons) against Philip’s threat to Greek liberty, but the Romans had, in contrast, fulfilled this promise of victory against the barbarous tyrant by defeating the Macedonian king. In Polybius’ narrative therefore, Rome was able to do what Philip had and could not, and because of this the historian implies that the Achaeans, Epirotes, Athenians, and other Greeks who had sided with Rome were justified in their betrayal of the alliance with the Antigonid kingdom—because of the reversal of roles this was not only the right choice, but also an unavoidable one.

Conclusion: Reversals of Conduct Polybius constructed a narrative that turned the tables on the ideological positions of Philip and the Romans in Greek terms: as the Romans come closer to the ¹³⁵ This title implies divine honours (cf. Plut. Dem. 10.4; Flam. 16.3; Diod. 20.46.2, 100.3; Paus. 1.8.6; Syll. 390, l. 27), and is attested epigraphically in relation to Flamininus: Syll. 592 (from Gythium); Année épig. (1929) 24 f., no. 99; Bousquet (1964) 607–9 (Achaean dedication by Aristaenus); Daux (1964) 569–76 (Titeia at Argos, 195 ), Mastrokostas (1964) 309f. (Thessaly). Cf. also Plut. Flam. 16.3 for divine honours given to Flamininus at Chalcis in 191, linking his name with Heracles and Apollo, and IG XII 9. 931 (Euboea). For the cult of Flamininus, see Walbank HCP II 613–14; Grundel (1958) cols. 1075–6; and Brisson (2018) 126–40. ¹³⁶ His restrained, astute, and reasoned behaviour is not only evident here, but also appears in later episodes (cf. 23.5). ¹³⁷ Cf. Walbank (1942) 145 n. 1; (1943) 8 n. 7; Gelzer (1962–4) I 133; and Walbank HCP II 614.

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Greeks and Hellenic virtue, so Philip moved further away from them and closer to barbaric qualities. This ideological change offers an additional justification for the transition of power from Macedon to Rome and the Achaean League’s decision to change allegiance from one to the other. While the Second Macedonian War revealed the brutal reality of Roman power and inspired Greek hatred and fear (cf. Chapter 3), this is dampened in Polybius’ narrative by the keen focus on Philip’s irrationality, impiety, and brutality and Flamininus’ reason and support for the Greek cause. The blackening of the king obscures and outweighs the negativities of Roman interference, appeasing his Roman audience while at the same time persuading his Greek readers to accept the change of leadership. Moreover, according to Polybius’ scheme, Philip’s defeat does not come about purely because of Roman superior might, but also because of his own degeneration in conduct and the inevitable decline and failure of a state under ‘tyrannical’ rule. From a Greek perspective, barbaric tyranny and irrationality must always succumb to Hellenic order and rationality. During the narrative, therefore, it becomes right for the Romans, as the more Hellenic entity, to defeat Philip, a barbaric tyrant, in the Second Macedonian War and to take over hegemonic leadership of the Greeks. For his Roman audience, Philip’s fall from Hellenic grace would also act as a warning against ‘barbaric’ conduct if they wish to remain a successful hegemon in the Greek East. For his Greek audience, the ideological shift was a vital part of Polybius’ explanation for Rome’s rise and Macedon’s fall. By it, he also urged the Greeks to reassess their own situation and conduct, and to find a new way to revitalize the old strength and superiority of the Hellenic community in a world now subservient to a new non-Greek power. This narrative was meant to iron out the confusion and divided opinions regarding the Macedon–Rome problem, to contribute to contemporary political discourse, and to offer an answer to the question of who constituted the real enemy of the Greek world in the first half of the second century. The image of two hegemonic powers exchanging Hellenic/barbaric positions in the cultural landscape of the Mediterranean is, of course, an artificial construction, a literary device used to offer an answer to this question. Yet, the simplicity of this construction is complicated immediately after the changeover in 196 . While the Romans as a collective are shown to demonstrate exemplary qualities for many years, only declining significantly after their defeat of Perseus in 168  (31.25.4), even in the 190s they are revealed to be inconsistent, self-interested, and domineering in their relations with the Greeks. Flamininus himself, despite his promise of freedom and autonomy, falls from his position of extreme positivity in the narrative when he is associated with the assassination of a pro-Macedonian boiotarch, Brachylles (Plb. 18.43), a connection which is not mentioned by Livy.¹³⁸ His mission to round up support in Greece against Antiochus in 192 also fails because ¹³⁸ Livy 33.27.5–29.12, follows Polybius’ account of this assassination closely although omits Flamininus’ involvement in the plot (33.28.1).

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it is believed that Demetrias, one of the ‘fetters of Greece’, would be returned to Philip V for his assistance, and many of the Greeks, Livy reports, would most likely join Antiochus if he arrived on the mainland with a sufficient force (Livy 39.6). The Romans are then shown to be uncompromising, arrogant, and alien in their diplomatic exchange with the Aetolian strategos Phaineas concerning the Aetolian deditio in fidem in 191 (Plb. 20.9–10).¹³⁹ Years later, the independent and persistent pursuit of Sparta and Messene by the Achaean League in the 180s and 170s arouses Roman anger since it disrupts the status quo and increases the power of the League (see especially 23.17.3–4).¹⁴⁰ It becomes increasingly evident that despite their exemplary conduct and initial promotion of freedom and autonomy, the Romans no longer uphold these good ‘Hellenic’ principles and demand more and more obedience, acknowledgement of hierarchy, and maintenance of the status quo to preserve their own power. This change in conduct would subsequently lead many of the Greeks to back Macedon once again in the Third Macedonian War and is one of the main reasons for Polybius’ expansion of his work beyond the destruction of Macedon in 167. This expansion allowed Polybius to record Roman actions and leadership after their establishment of power, offer his readers the opportunity to assess whether it should be praised or abhorred, and implicitly urge the Romans to return to the good qualities and conduct with which they had won their empire (3.4).¹⁴¹ On the other hand, according to Polybius, after his defeat at Cynoscephalae Philip immediately returns to the more positive qualities of reason, kingly behaviour, sagacity, and moderation. At 18.33 Polybius initially praises Philip for having done his best in the battle (τὰ δυνατὰ πεποιηκὼς πρὸς τὸν ἀγῶνα; 18.33.1) and for remembering his kingly duty (ποιῶν πρᾶγμα βασιλικὸν τὸ μηδ’ἐν τοῖς δεινοῖς λήθην ποιεῖσθαι τοῦ καθήκοντος; 33.2) after the battle by burning royal correspondence and destroying information pertaining to his friends and allies. ‘Just as it is the case with other men’, Polybius then asserts, ‘in the season of prosperity the king was unable to bear his authority with the moderation that befits a man, yet with a sudden reversal of circumstances he stood firm with caution and sense’ (ἴσως μὲν οὖν καὶ ἑτέροις ἤδη τοῦτο συμβέβηκε, τὸ τὰς μὲν ἐν ταῖς ἐπιτυχίαις ἐξουσίας μὴ δύνασθαι φέρειν ἀνθρωπίνως, ἐν δὲ ταῖς περιπετείαις εὐλαβῶς ἵστασθαι καὶ νουνεχῶς: ἐν τοῖς δὲ μάλιστα καὶ περὶ Φίλιππον τοῦτο γέγονε; 33.4–5). In concluding this digression after Cynoscephalae, Polybius then explicitly notes that Philip changed his conduct once again (18.33.6–7):

¹³⁹ For the deditio incident, see p. 203 n. 104. ¹⁴⁰ For the Achaean League’s pursuit of Sparta and Messene, see Plb. 22.3.1–3, 7.1–6, 10.5–8, 11.6–12.9; 23.4.8–14, 9.8–14, 16.1–18.1; 24.2.3, 9.9–14, 10.13–15; Livy 36.31; 39.48–50, 40.20. For the policies of the Greek states during this period, see Gruen (1984) 467–514, Eckstein (2008) 348–56. ¹⁴¹ See Nicholson (2021) 141–64 for the imbalance in the relationship between the Romans and Greeks after Cynoscephalae and Polybius’ attempt to address it.

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καθάπερ γὰρ καὶ τὰς ἐξ ἀρχῆς ὁρμὰς ἐπὶ τὸ δέον αὐτοῦ σαφῶς ἐδηλώσαμεν, καὶ πάλιν τὴν ἐπὶ τὸ χεῖρον μεταβολήν, καὶ πότε καὶ διὰ τί καὶ πῶς ἐγένετο, καὶ τὰς ἐν ταύτῃ πράξεις μετ᾽ ἀποδείξεως ἐξηγησάμεθα, τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον χρὴ καὶ τὴν μετάνοιαν αὐτοῦ δηλῶσαι καὶ τὴν εὐστοχίαν, καθ᾽ ἣν μεταθέμενος τοῖς ἐκ τῆς τύχης ἐλαττώμασιν εὐλογιστότατα δοκεῖ κεχρῆσθαι τοῖς καθ᾽ αὑτὸν καιροῖς. For just as I have clearly demonstrated his [Philip’s] earlier impulses to do what was right, and in turn his change to the worse, and when and why and how this happened, and then narrated with proofs his actions after this, it is also necessary to show in the same way his change of mind and the sagacity with which, having adapted to his loss of fortune, he seemed to handle the circumstances in which he found himself with exceptional prudence.

According to Polybius’ depiction of the king, therefore, after Cynoscephalae Philip undergoes a change for the better in response to his negative change in fortune. His downfall into treachery, impiety, and tyranny has been punished by defeat, and in response he once again takes up those exemplary Hellenic qualities so natural to him. This begins another stage of his life in which he treats others more fairly (note, for instance, his extremely kind and generous treatment of the Aetolian strategos, Nicander in 191, at 20.11),¹⁴² works to generate goodwill with the Romans (cf. his assistance of the Romans in the war against Antiochus in 191; 21.3.1–3), and gradually recovers the territory, economic state, and military capacity of his kingdom (he is relieved of tribute and has his son returned to him in 191, 21.3.3; he temporarily acquires Athamania and Dolopia, 21.31.3–4; and he acquires towns in Thessaly, Perrhaebia, and Thrace, 22.1, 6, 11, 13). Unfortunately, very little of the rest of Philip’s story in the Histories survives, and we cannot be sure how long and how strongly this positive turn in Polybius’ text lasted. However, in what we do have, for twelve years the king’s actions are no longer associated with tyranny or barbarity. It is not until 184 , when the relationship between Rome and Macedon is beginning to break down, when the Romans have demanded that he relinquish his newly acquired territory in Thessaly, Perrhaebia, and Thrace (22.11, 13–14), when they have started to openly receive and listen to emissaries and complaints against him (23.1–3), and when Philip is convinced that war is on the horizon and feels acutely that he has been treated badly by the Romans (22.14.7–8; 23.3), that his behaviour starts to turn again. This time, as we will see in the following chapter, a large part of his second decline is attributed to tyche which sends him mad, inspires him to go to war

¹⁴² Nicander was an Aetolian from Trichonium, who had a prominent career and was strategos three times; cf. Paschidis (2008) 339–41. In 193, he had attempted to win Philip over to the Aetolian/ Antiochean side against Rome, and after the king’s generous treatment of him in 191 was loyal to the royal house until its end. He was then deported to Rome (20.11.10) where he may have been one of Polybius’ informants. Cf. Stähelin (1936) 247–9.

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against Rome once again, to impose harsh and brutal policies and treatment on the Macedonian nobility, and to assassinate his younger son. This final madness would lead, in Polybius’ conception, to the ultimate destruction of the Macedonian kingdom. While the Romans would continue to demonstrate exemplary ‘Hellenic’ behaviour in the following years and continue the fight for ‘Greek freedom’ against Antiochus, so too would Philip in this new phase of his life from 196 . The Romans, as exemplary representatives of the Hellenic cause, had punished him for his previous tyrannical and barbarous conduct and shown him how to behave properly in the Greek world. Following this lesson, he is said to have learnt quickly from his mistakes and corrected his conduct. He was also crucially no longer an enemy of Rome, but a friend and cooperator, and could therefore be depicted in more positive terms. The tragedy of Philip, however, is that even after he shows the strength to correct and recover himself and his kingdom after a devastating defeat, to stand strong once again after a significant loss of fortune in this third stage of his life, he could not be allowed to be a successful Macedonian king again and to do what a successful Macedonian king must. He could not be allowed—by the Romans, the Greek world, or tyche—to expand and grow strong. His time and that of the Macedonian kings was at an end and the Macedonian empire had to be destroyed to make way for a new empire.

5 A Tragic King ὅτι τῷ βασιλεῖ Φιλίππῳ καὶ τῇ συμπάσῃ Μακεδονίᾳ κατὰ τοῦτον τὸν καιρὸν δεινή τις ἀρχὴ κακῶν ἐνέπεσε . . . (23.10.1) It was at this time [183 ] that the beginning of terrible misfortunes fell upon King Philip and the whole of Macedon . . . This statement marks the beginning of Polybius’ dramatic introduction to Philip’s last years (183–179 )—when, the historian claims, tyche sought to punish the king for the wicked deeds he had committed throughout his life, when she inspired him to pursue a vengeful war against Rome, and when the violent quarrel between his sons, and the younger’s subsequent execution, erupted and brought disaster to the Macedonian house. It is an introduction particularly striking and tragic given Philip’s positive change in conduct after defeat, but also important for modern readers as it is the last Polybian passage of substantial size regarding Philip to have come down to us (23.10). While it has had to be pieced together from a number of different sources and is therefore not free from problems, it is a vital piece of evidence since the historian’s account of what comes after, and his details of Philip’s last years, have been entirely lost. Yet, despite this difficulty, this introduction to the monarch’s last years is still able to offer us valuable insights into how Polybius constructed the king’s end and to provide an understanding of the overall interpretation of Philip within the Histories. This chapter will first discuss the reconstruction of Polybius’ account of Philip’s final years and the motivations he assigned to the king, before exploring this final episode as it stands in the full portrait of the Macedonian king and the Histories as a whole. We will circle around from the detailed analysis of the last three chapters analysing the king’s turn for the worse, his treatment of his allies, and his depiction in relation to the Romans back to some of the wider historiographical concerns outlined in the introduction. It will continue the chronological direction of our investigation, bringing us to the end of Philip’s career and the climactic finale of the historian’s account. The historical events and the reliability of Polybius’ account will not be extensively investigated here as these have already been well discussed by others. This chapter will rather approach this episode from a literary perspective and explore the use of tragic imagery in Polybius’ work, since only limited forays have so far been made into Polybius’ construction of Philip’s life in these final years. In doing so, it will offer new perspectives on Polybius’ historiographical method and his account of Philip as a whole. Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0006

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Part 1: Polybius’ Account of Philip’s Final Years (183–179 ) The start of tyche’s punishment in 183  began after several years in which relations between Rome and Macedon had been steadily worsening. As outlined at the end of the last chapter, in the years following Philip’s defeat at the battle of Cynoscephalae in 197 , there was initially a relatively long period of peace and occasional cooperation between Macedon and Rome (196–186 ) in which the king is said to change his mind and conduct once again following defeat, but this time to the good and demonstrating kingly duty, sense, and prudence.¹ In these twelve years, he demonstrated kindness and generosity, even towards enemies (e.g. Nicander; 20.11), and cooperated willingly with the Romans so that he was able to recover the economic and military strength of his kingdom. Yet, Polybius and Livy record how Philip became increasingly embittered towards Rome after the Romans withdrew support for the agreement established with the Roman consul Manius Acilius in 191 . This agreement had allowed Philip to keep the regions of Athamania, Dolopia, Aperantia, and some of Perrhaebia in exchange for his help in the war against Antiochus III (Livy 36.33–4) and thereby to expand beyond the agreed geographical confines dictated by the peace terms of 196  (cf. Plb. 18.44–5).² Complaints soon arrived in Rome from the captured cities regarding Macedonian behaviour, however, and the Senate became increasingly concerned about Philip’s sudden expansion into Greece and Thrace (39.24–5). Commissioners were sent out to assess the situation in 185  and finally judged in 184 that Macedon should return to its traditional boundaries (stipulating that Philip should evacuate Thessaly and Perrhaebia) and that the king should not expand any further eastward than the road lying to the west of Aenus and Maronea in Thrace (39.26). Philip attempted to circumvent this restriction by redirecting the road eastward to encompass both cities. However, King Eumenes of Pergamum, convinced of his own rights to the territory, drew the Senate’s attention to Philip’s evasive action (Plb. 22.6; Livy 39.27) and the Romans finally ordered Philip’s full evacuation from the region (Plb. 22.11.2–4; Livy 39.28–9, 33–4). Before the directives were carried out, however, a massacre of the population ensued at Maronea in 184, allegedly the work of the bitter king. Philip was severely rebuked by the Roman commander Appius Claudius for this incident and an investigation was duly demanded (Plb. 22.13; Livy 39.34). It is this event at Maronea in 184  that is claimed to have been the turning point in relations between Macedon and Rome: Polybius records that Philip warily recognized this change and discussed the extent of Roman disaffection and the inevitability of war with his advisers (Plb. 22.13–14). ¹ For Philip’s recovery of Macedon and cooperation with Rome after the Second Macedonian War, see Walbank (1940) 186–257; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 448–68; and Burton (2017) 39–47. ² Cf. Walbank (1940) 231–6; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 456–7.

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Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years from this point onwards has survived in a regrettably fragmentary and highly condensed state.³ Yet we are once again saved from the frustrations of ignorance by Livy, who not only provides a fuller narrative of the events summarized in Polybius’ introduction, but also appears to have kept close to the latter’s version.⁴ This is quite plain when we compare the two texts (Plb. 23.10; Livy 40.4–5). The Roman historian’s main contribution to the tradition seems to be an increased focus on human reactions and thereby a more pronounced emotional component.⁵ Livy’s role in the reconstruction of this episode is, however, even more significant than we would first suppose. It was noted by Heinrich Nissen in 1863, and argued fully by Walbank in 1938, that Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years survives to us in an abridged form, as is evident from the presence of an additional episode in Livy’s narrative.⁶ This is the dramatic tale of Theoxena and the destruction of her household: Livy narrates how her father, husband, and brother-in-law had all been put to death by Philip several years before. Theoxena’s sister had remarried but died after bearing several children and Theoxena, marrying her sister’s widower, Poris, brought up the children with her own. Some time later, after hearing about the king’s proclamation ordering the arrest of the offspring of the executed men, Theoxena and Poris attempted to sail with their children in a small boat from Aenea in Chalcidice to Euboea. Due to stormy conditions, they were not able to travel far and were soon sighted by the king’s troops. Fearing the consequences should they be captured, the whole family committed suicide. The news of this event allegedly caused outrage among the Macedonians (40.4–5). For Nissen and Walbank, this story was undoubtedly relevant to Polybius’ narrative as an example of the disaffection caused by Philip’s imprisonment of the children of leading Macedonians in the 180s (see the next section for its suggested position in Polybius’ account).⁷ This view is still upheld in more recent studies, but may also be supported by the existence of a similarly dramatic (even tragic) episode in Polybius’ Histories involving the suffering and death of women and children in the account of Agathocles’ end (Plb. 15.33); Polybius was clearly not averse to including this kind of dramatic information in certain circumstances.⁸

³ After Polybius’ introduction at 23.10, only a small section of the historian’s account of Philip’s speech to his sons is preserved (23.11) and we hear nothing else about Macedonian affairs until Book 25 when Perseus succeeds his father to the throne and renews his friendship with Rome in 179 . ⁴ Livy’s account of this period starts at 40.4. He records in detail the quarrel between Philip’s sons (40.5–16), the king’s reaction and consideration of their disagreement (40.16), the investigation into Demetrius’ attachment to Rome (40.20, 23), the expedition into Maedica and up Mt. Haemus (40.21), the assassination of Demetrius (40.24), Philip’s supposed favouring of Antigonus Echecrates (40.54–6), and finally his death (40.56–7). ⁵ Tränkle (2009) 487–8. ⁶ Nissen (1863) 234; Walbank (1938) 59–62 = (1985) 214–17. ⁷ See Walbank (1938) 59–61 = (1985) 216 and (1979) 232. ⁸ Lanciotti (1983) 215–54; Briscoe (2008) 419. See Johstono (2017) 1–20 for Polybius’ tragic account of Agathocles of Alexandria.

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Livy’s account is therefore vital for reconstructing the sequence of Polybius’ introduction, as well as for filling in gaps in information. We are still very much indebted to Walbank’s 1938 reconstruction of Polybius’ account since there has been little refutation of this reconstruction and attempts to do so have not been received well.⁹ It runs as follows (sentences which only have the authority of Livy are presented in italics; the rest are either attested in Polybius alone or in both):¹⁰ ‘This year [183 ] witnessed the outbreak of disaster for Philip and for Macedon, an event worthy of attention and careful record. Fortune, wishing to punish Philip for all his wicked acts, sent against him a host of furies, torments, and avenging spirits of his victims; these tortured him up to the day of his death, never leaving him, so that all realised that, as the proverb goes, “Justice has an eye” and men must not scorn her. First these furies inspired Philip to carry out exchanges of population between Thrace and the coastal towns, in preparation for his war with Rome; and, as a result, men’s hatred grew greater than their fear and they cursed Philip openly. Eventually, his mind rendered fiercer by these curses, Philip came to feel himself in danger unless he imprisoned the children of those he had killed. So he wrote to the officers in the various cities and had this done; he had in mind chiefly the children of Admetus, Pyrrhichus and Samus and the rest he had executed at the same time, but he included all who had been

⁹ The most important of these discussions arose between Settimio Lanciotto (1983) 215–54 and John Briscoe (2008) 379–80. The former argued that Walbank was wrong to regard this Polybian passage (23.10) as compressed by the excerptor and to think that Livy could be used to reconstruct the original text. Walbank had argued that subsection 23.10.12 (τρίτον δ᾽ ἡ τύχη δρᾶμα κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν καιρὸν ἐπεισήγαγεν τὸ κατὰ τοὺς υἱούς; from the excerpts de uirtutibus et uitiis) represented the words of the excerptor rather than Polybius and that it was at this point that Theoxena’s story was originally placed, followed by the curses of the Macedonians against Philip and his execution of Demetrius. This subsection, as a perceived addition, was consequently not included in Walbank’s reconstruction as outlined above. Furthermore, he considered 23.10.16 ( . . . τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἀναβιβαζούσης ἐπὶ σκηνὴν ἐν ἑνὶ καιρῷ τὰς τούτων συμφοράς; from the excerpts de sententiis) to be the original version of 23.10.12. However, Lanciotti noted that this phrase is followed by ζήτει ἐν τῶι περὶ παραδόξων in MS Tours 880 (P), the only witness of the now lost excerpts de uirtutibus et uitiis, and therefore does not see the curses against the king (40.5–16.3) as unusual enough to fulfil the περὶ παραδόξων ending of the statement. He suggests instead that the tragedy of Theoxena would have suited this position better. This would mean that 23.10.12 was not compressed by the excerptor as the story of Theoxena would have followed the previous statement perfectly well. The later 23.10.16 would not, then, be another version of 23.10.12, but the introduction to the quarrel between the two brothers after the story of Theoxena. The causal link between this incident (Livy 40.5.1) and the murder of Demetrius would have had to be entirely constructed by Livy. Yet, Briscoe persuasively argued against Lanciotti’s suggestion, claiming that the episode does not make the anger of the gods against Philip’s earlier misdeeds clear. He instead suggests that the dramatic events at the Macedonian purification ceremony would have fitted equally well after περὶ παραδόξων. Moreover, Briscoe notes that both Walbank and Lanciotti observe that τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἀναβιβαζούσης ἐπὶ σκηνὴν at 23.10.16 occurs at two other locations in Polybius’ work (at 29.19.2 and with slight variation at 11.5.8): while Polybius was certainly capable of repeating himself, it is less likely that he would have done so in such a short space of time, and more likely that 23.10.16 represented Polybius himself, while 23.10.12 (τρίτον δ᾽ ἡ τύχη δρᾶμα . . . ) the excerptor. ¹⁰ Walbank (1938) 61–2 = (1985) 216–17; cf. Walbank, HCP III 229.

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put to death by royal command, quoting the line, “Foolish are those who having killed the father, leave his sons” (νήπιος ὃς πατέρα κτείνας υἱοὺς καταλείπει).¹¹ The general effect of this was to awaken pity for the children of men of high station; but a particular incident brought the corresponding loathing for Philip to a climax. This was the death of Theoxena and her sister’s children.’ (Here occurred the account of this, as given in Livy.) ‘This incident added new flame to the hatred of his people, and they now openly cursed Philip and his sons; and these curses, heard by all the gods, caused Philip to turn his anger against his own blood. For, while his mind was almost maddened on this account, the quarrel of his sons burst into flame simultaneously, Fortune as if of set purpose bringing their misfortunes on the stage at one and the same time. The quarrel was referred to Philip and he had to decide which of his two sons he should murder and which he should fear as his own possible murderer for the rest of his life. Who can help thinking that the wrath of heaven was descending on him for his past sins? The details that follow will make this clearer.’ (Then come the details of the quarrel between Demetrius and Perseus: Livy 40.5–24; Plb. 23.10.17, 11.)

The main premise of Walbank’s article in which this reconstruction was presented was to discuss how this episode affected Polybius’ credibility, which had come under attack for his creation of an end to Philip’s life which was distinctly ‘tragic’ in character.¹² The tragic elements of this account made Polybius’ earlier harsh polemic against Phylarchus’ τραγικός ‘tragic’ style problematic,¹³ moreover Benecke had suggested that the historian had uncritically used tragedies and historical novels as sources for these last years.¹⁴ Yet in the course of his analysis, Walbank persuasively asserted that Polybius was not to be accused of hypocrisy in the use of his sources, or even for framing this episode in a tragic form: τραγικός was a stylistic label which Polybius used to vilify those historians who were prone to sensational exaggeration, inaccuracy, and a lack of attention to cause and effect within their narratives.¹⁵ Polybius’ narrative of Philip’s last years did not contain any of these three characteristics (sensational exaggeration, inaccuracy, and a lack of attention to cause and effect) despite possessing ‘tragic paraphernalia’¹⁶ and references to the stage. It is not particularly sensational as there is no attempt to ¹¹ A line attributed by Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 6.2.19) to the epic poet Stasinus (Cypria, fg. 22). This sentiment seems to have been a common saying and is found for example in Herodotus (1.155), Euripides (And. 519–21), and is quoted twice by Aristotle (Rhet. i.15. 1376a7; ii.21 1395a19). See Walbank (1938) 58 = (1985) 214; Walbank HCP III 232. ¹² See Lehmann (1967) and Walbank’s supportive review (1968) 253–5 for a defence of Polybius’ credibility. ¹³ See Polybius’ polemic against Phylarchus at 2.56–63 and Chapter 1 for a detailed discussion of the historian’s criticism. ¹⁴ Benecke (1930) 25. ¹⁵ Cf. Grethlein (2013) 249–52 and Marincola (2013) 77–88. ¹⁶ Walbank lists these as ‘furies, torments and avenging spirits of his victims, Justice and her eye, curses answered by the gods’, all features which are taken directly from Polybius’ account.

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draw the readers into the events emotionally, the tragic paraphernalia merely helps to present the moral lesson, and there is a clear sequence of cause and effect laid out by the connecting factor of tyche.¹⁷ Yet, Walbank believed that Polybius did, in fact, make a mistake in recording Philip’s last years and one which puts his reliability as a source for Philip into question. He stated that it was Polybius’ assumption that Philip had deliberately planned an aggressive war against Rome, an undertaking inspired by tyche as part of the king’s punishment, and that this was historically inaccurate and a misunderstanding of Philip’s cautionary offensive in light of a disintegrating relationship. There has been subsequent revision of this view, with scholars taking various sides, and this chapter will contribute to this debate. Furthermore, while Polybius was not seen as hypocritical for his polemic against Phylarchus, Walbank did view this episode as problematic because of its use of a tragic mode: ‘Furthermore, his excessive emphasis on the moral issues and his unique and unfortunate use of a tragic scheme and tragic terminology—not in the Phylarchean sense, admittedly, yet none the less tragic in a manner opposed to the requirements of scientific history—these factors make Polybius’ account of these last years of Philip one of the least satisfying of his whole work’. This chapter examines the validity of this statement in light of new developments in Polybian studies and the conclusions reached in this volume so far, and argues that such a tragic styling was, in fact, not only fitting for Polybius’ overall construction of the king, but also appropriate in preserving the didactic quality of his portrayal of Philip.

Philip’s War of Revenge Against Rome: A Polybian Mistake? Walbank believed that Polybius made a mistake in assuming Philip had deliberately planned an aggressive war against Rome, since he had recorded a conversation between the king and his two philoi, Apelles and Philocles, earlier in Book 22, which offers a different perspective. After his meeting with Appius Claudius in 184 , in which the Roman censured his massacre of the Maroneans: ὁ δὲ βασιλεὺς γενόμενος καθ᾽ ἑαυτὸν καὶ συμμεταδοὺς τῶν φίλων Ἀπελλῇ καὶ Φιλοκλεῖ περὶ τῶν ἐνεστώτων, ἔγνω σαφῶς ἐπὶ πολὺ προβεβηκυῖαν αὑτοῦ τὴν πρὸς Ῥωμαίους διαφοράν, καὶ ταύτην οὐκέτι λανθάνουσαν, ἀλλὰ καταφανῆ τοῖς πλείστοις οὖσαν. καθόλου μὲν οὖν πρόθυμος ἦν εἰς τὸ κατὰ πάντα τρόπον ἀμύνασθαι καὶ μετελθεῖν αὐτούς: πρὸς ἔνια δὲ τῶν ἐπινοουμένων ἀπόχειρος ὢν ἐπεβάλετο πῶς ἂν ἔτι γένοιτό τις ἀναστροφὴ καὶ λάβοι χρόνον πρὸς τὰς εἰς τὸν πόλεμον παρασκευάς. (22.14.7–8)

¹⁷ Walbank (1938) 62 = (1985) 217–19.

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. . . the king, left on his own, exchanged views with his friends, Apelles and Philocles, about the present circumstances, and clearly saw that the variance with the Romans had come to a great height, and that this no longer escaped the notice of others, but was completely obvious to most. Generally speaking, then, he was ready to resist and attack them in all manner of ways; but since some of his policies and forces were unprepared, he considered how there might yet be some delay and how he might gain time for his war preparations.

To Walbank, Polybius appears to neglect the implications of this reported speech, which seems to show the Macedonian king in a different light. The historian speaks as if the Third Macedonian War was engineered by Philip and passed on to his son after his death, but in doing so seems to ignore the fact that the war did not break out until seven years after Philip’s death in 172 , and, moreover, only after the senate had become concerned about Perseus’ growing popularity among the Greeks and dispatched numerous embassies addressing issues between the king and the Roman friend Eumenes of Pergamum.¹⁸ Furthermore, it was the Romans, not Perseus, who finally declared war.¹⁹ Walbank therefore argued that Philip was not obsessed with seeking vengeance for his mistreatment by Rome and Polybius was guilty of an offence for which he criticized other historians: inaccuracy.²⁰ This error was probably not intentional, Walbank concedes, as there is a fine line between deliberate aggression and precautionary offensive, and it would have been easy for Polybius to misconstrue the king’s intentions as aggressive. Since Walbank’s argument, there has been both agreement and disagreement with his conclusions. Pédech, in support of Walbank’s thesis, saw Philip as far more uncertain about a Macedonian attack on Italy prior to his ascension of Mt. Haemus five years later in 181 . Beforehand, he claimed, it is difficult to

¹⁸ These issues included: Perseus’ expulsion of Abroupolis, invasion of Dolopia, and march into Delphi (22.18); his treaty with the Boeotians (27.5–6; Livy 42.12.5–6, 40.6); his assassination of the Illyrian prince Arthetaurus, a Roman ally (42.13.6, 40.6; App. Mac. 11.1, 3); his military aid of the Byzantines against Thracian tribes (42.13.8, 40.6); and his interference in Thessaly, Perrhaebia, and Aetolia (41.25.1–6,42.5.7–12, 13.9, 40.7; Diod. 29.33.1). ¹⁹ Walbank (1938) 66 = (1985) 221; cf. Giovannini (1969) 853–61, and Burton (2017) 69–77, 78–123 for discussions of the causes of the Third Macedonian War. ²⁰ The ancient tradition recording Philip’s last years has been treated with great scepticism by scholarship: Gruen (1974) 221–46 discussed the clear divide between Polybius’ account of events and the different version(s) developed and offered by modern historians; the majority, including Walbank and Gruen, see Philip’s actions against Rome as measures of self-defence rather than aggression, and that Rome was more responsible for the dissension that erupted in the royal house and for the ensuing conflict between the two powers than Polybius records. Hindsight and schematism are evident in Polybius’ view of Macedonian–Roman relations and the tragic form which Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years takes makes his narrative less trustworthy historically. This is also supported by e.g. Colin (1905) 204–12; De Sanctis (1923) 242–50; Edson (1935) 191–202; Meloni (1953) 29–34, 41–60; and Welwei (1963) 50–4. There are only a few exceptions to this perspective, including Pédech (1964) 125–34, who stands by much of Polybius’ account, including the forgery of Flamininus’ letter and Philip’s final efforts to remove Perseus from the succession, as well as Stier (1957) 184 who adopts Polybius’ portrait of Philip as bent on revenge against Rome.

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discern whether Philip’s policies towards Rome after 187/6 were defensive or aggressive as they were not explicitly directed at the Italian power, but rather efforts to strengthen the kingdom internally and externally. It is only when the king makes the journey up the mountain that he seems to have settled on this decision, having taken action to toughen the Macedonian army by this march and scouted out the area of future operation.²¹ More radically, Erich Gruen argued that Philip did not, in fact, feel constrained or threatened by the interview with Appius. He claims that there was no breakdown in the relationship between Macedon and Rome until after Philip’s reign, and that when the king spoke to Apelles and Philocles Philip saw the situation worsening in terms of what the Romans were saying against him, rather than what they were doing. ‘Senatorial declarations, designed to appease envoys from the socii and amici, promoted the idea that relations between Rome and Macedon were irreparable and encouraged Philip’s enemies to persist in their accusations.’²² That is, that Philip was more worried about the build-up of Greek complaints against him, encouraged by Rome’s willingness to listen, and the eventual compulsion Rome would feel in coming to their aid. His son Demetrius was therefore sent to Rome as ‘an act of good faith’ and ‘would provide Rome with a convenient vehicle whereby to quiet malcontents in central Greece and Asia Minor and to permit Philip to operate within the limits, but with less annoyance’. The senate had also accepted the succession of Perseus and agreed to the renewal of friendship between Rome and Macedon in 179  without issue or hesitation.²³ Had Rome been concerned about an imminent war of aggression with the new king, prepared for by his father, they would not have reacted so calmly or agreeably. More recently, however, rejecting Walbank’s and Pédech’s claim, Boris Dreyer has argued that a long-term policy of revenge conceived by Philip against the Romans was plausible.²⁴ This is based on his argument that Philip had planned a double-strike strategy against Rome in these later years, entailing the incitement of his Bastarnan allies to invade Italy in the north, as well as an attack of his own forces in mainland Greece and thereby robbing Rome of Greek support. While the historicity of Philip’s intention to incite the Bastarnae against Italy has been doubted, Dreyer claims that this was part of Philip’s whole plan of attack.²⁵ The problem with trying to ascertain Philip’s plans and intentions in all this is Polybius’ ascription of motive.²⁶ It has been effectively discussed by Miltsios ²¹ Pédech (1964) 128–9. ²² Gruen (1974) 231–2. ²³ Gruen (1974) 245. ²⁴ Dreyer (2007) 223–8. ²⁵ For arguments against this strategy, see Walbank (1940) 254; see Dreyer (2007) 227 n. 140 for arguments for it. ²⁶ Scholars have equally disagreed about Philip’s attitude towards Rome and his intention to invade Italy earlier in his reign: Gruen (1984) 374–5 and Champion (1997) 118–21 argued that Philip had limited western ambitions; Eckstein (2008) 81 believed that the king, opportunistic and continuously out for expansion, was keen on invading Italy and moving beyond Macedon’s traditional boundaries in the west. These discussions are connected with wider debates about the king’s ambitions for ἡ τῶν ὅλων ἐλπίς ‘universal dominion’: Klose (1972) 87–8 and Ilari (1980) 283–5 rejected the idea that Philip had such grandiose aspirations and argued that a balance of power existed between, and was consciously

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how the ancient historian frequently tries to reconstruct characters’ mind-sets, a task which aims to provide access to an agent’s expectations and fears, and consequently an understanding of their decisions. It is a crucial tool in producing coherent cause and effect.²⁷ Yet determining the validity of such ascriptions is always problematic: they often arise from personal conjecture and could be invented or deduced ex eventu from knowledge of what happened, or from public perspectives of the character of the historical agents. Even if the use of eyewitnesses could be ascertained, their impartiality and sincerity may be questioned.²⁸ Furthermore, ascribing motives to an individual from what is known of their character presupposes consistency between the character and its various manifestations. Human personality is, however, generally far too complicated for this to work in practice.²⁹ Building on the work of Champion,³⁰ Miltsios has also pointed out that the presentation of motivation in the Histories is usually tied into the text’s literary themes and wider patterns of human behaviour. While Polybius himself acknowledges the complexity of human behaviour, he also tries to make it easily understood. This often required simplification (see Chapter 6 for further discussion of characterization). Coherence in the narrative is therefore promoted, as well as an understanding of the underlying human factors. Moreover, ‘the more smoothly the conception of a plan blends in with its execution, the more likely it is that the narrator invented it afterwards.’ Therefore, Polybius may have to some extent moulded historical agents’ characters to fall into a pattern of behaviour that would fall neatly into his overall plan.³¹ This certainly seems to be the case with Philip as he is used as a tool to promote a certain political and moral perspective regarding Rome and the Greek world. Historically the answer to Philip’s motives may not be so clear cut. Certainly, while considering Rome’s seemingly fickle and inconsistent attention to eastern affairs thus far, the continued complaints of the Greeks against him, and the wavering diktats and attitudes of the senate, the Macedonian king could not predict whether a war would come or not, and an immediate defensive strategy seemed best in light of his relative weakness.³² The fact that Philip was

subscribed to, by the main Hellenistic royal houses; the ‘balance of power’ argument is now generally rejected (Schmitt (1974) 67–8, 89–91; Will (1979) 154 A.1; Badian (1984) 401; Heinen (1984) 419–20, 445; Walbank (1993) 1722–3 = (2002) 128–9; Gehrke (1995) 197–8; Eckstein (2006) ch. 4) however, and strong support for Philip’s aspirations for universal dominion, particularly before his defeat by Rome, has been voiced by Walbank (1993) 1721–4 = (2002) 127–9 (pointing out how Alcaeus of Messene clearly showed such a belief in G-A 9.518), Eckstein (2008) 81, and Dreyer (2013a) 206. ²⁷ Miltsios (2013) 86, 92. ²⁸ Miltsios (2013) 93. ²⁹ Miltsios (2013) 93–4. ³⁰ Champion (2004), cf. (1997) and (2013). ³¹ Cf. Nicholson (2018a) 187–207 for Polybius’ construction of patterns of behaviour. ³² It seems Philip may have taken steps to persuade the Romans of his pacific and cooperative attitude via iconography on his coinage too: Hammond & Walbank (1988) 455 has noted that his coins in copper no longer carry emblems of war, i.e. not an eagle standing on a thunderbolt, but signs of peace, such as a plough, two goats reclining, the stern of a merchantship, and references to the mythical past or expressed worship. Cf. Mamroth (1935) 234.

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concerned about relations with Rome and that he started to reposition himself and strengthen his kingdom does not prevent him from keeping an eye open to the opportunity of starting a new war against Rome in the future. His short-term policy was to put off what he saw as an inevitable war while at a disadvantage and thereby give him time to strengthen his kingdom. However, while concentrating on the short-term issues he could equally have kept in mind the possibility of future aggressions against Rome should circumstances lead that way.

Polybius’ Case for Philip’s Universal Ambition: Thematic Repetition That Philip V sought to expand his power and territory throughout his reign cannot be refuted.³³ Yet, Polybius explicitly highlights and amplifies this characteristic, turning it into a defining theme in the king’s life (Plb. 5.101–2; 15.20; 15.24). The historian’s repetition of certain themes, familiarizing the audience with the ideas they convey, has been observed as a key feature of Polybius’ narrative construction by Nikos Miltsios. In his exploration of the theme of the dangers inherent in the recruitment of mercenaries, Miltsios notes that this theme marks both the beginning and the end of the narrative in Book 1. By its cyclic nature, the theme brings a sense of unity and cohesion to a book which would otherwise be so diverse that it would be hard to understand and process. The recurrent nature of this theme, which conjures up a sense of circular repetition, helps Polybius bring out the significance of both the result of the First Punic War and the final outcome of the conflict between Rome and Carthage as it highlights a profound weakness in the Carthaginian military system.³⁴ Miltsios concludes that the frequent re-establishment of themes, undoubtedly deliberate, makes the account more coherent and convincing, raising certain expectations in the reader, ‘which when finally realized, lend the narrative, even in its present fragmentary form, a sense of fulfilment and completeness.’³⁵ Polybius, concerned about the structure of his narrative and the ease with which his audience will comprehend its purpose and historical reasoning, deliberately creates these running thematic features within his work not only to convey certain political and didactic messages, but also to bring about some semblance of order. Similar running themes are also brought out in the depiction of Philip—his youthfulness, his speed, his military prowess, treachery, impiety and lawlessness, and his ambitions of universal conquest. The reassertion of all of these qualities in

³³ See p. 235 n. 26 for views on Philip’s aspirations for universal dominion. ³⁴ Miltsios (2013) 17–21. Cf. Erskine (2013b) 82–96 for a similar thematic construction of Ptolemaic power in Polybius. ³⁵ Miltsios (2013) 32.

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his narrative, either in subsections (as in regard to the king’s youthfulness) or throughout the king’s life (his pursuit of expansion), regardless of their historical accuracy, reinforces the depiction of the king which Polybius wants to convey to his readers. The first two characteristics listed—youthfulness and speed—have already been explored by McGing; his military prowess, treachery, impiety, and lawlessness have also been touched on by Eckstein and have received some discussion in the previous chapters of this work. It is the king’s ambitious dreams of conquest which primarily concern this current thread and will be explored below. This ambition reappears implicitly in the account of the king’s actions and explicitly in Polybius’ comments about them in the Histories. First, Polybius’ explicit references to Philip’s persistent policy of expansion. While the implicit appearances of the theme allow this character trait to develop more subtlety throughout the narrative, the explicit mentions of it more strongly emphasize this feature and its importance in the course of events. In Book 5, Polybius openly states that Philip was very much inspired by the words of Demetrius of Pharus in 217  which suggested that he conclude the war with Aetolia, turn his attention to the west, to matters in Illyria and later to an expedition in Italy itself, as Rome had just recently been defeated at Lake Trasimene by Hannibal (5.101.6–10). Polybius describes Philip’s reaction: τοιούτοις δὲ χρησάμενος λόγοις ταχέως παρώρμησε τὸν Φίλιππον, ὡς ἄν, οἶμαι, καὶ νέον βασιλέα καὶ κατὰ τὰς πράξεις ἐπιτυχῆ καὶ καθόλου τολμηρὸν εἶναι δοκοῦντα, πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ἐξ οἰκίας ὁρμώμενον τοιαύτης, ἣ μάλιστά πως ἀεὶ τῆς τῶν ὅλων ἐλπίδος ἐφίεται. (5.102.1) By using such arguments, he [Demetrius of Pharus] quickly incited Philip, as I think would be expected of a young king both successful in his achievements and on the whole daring of character, and particularly coming from such a royal house, which more than any other always aims at the prospect of universal dominion.

A number of historical inaccuracies can be identified in this statement. First, the assertion that the house of Macedon was always in pursuit of universal dominion is not historically accurate.³⁶ While each Macedonian ruler appears to have attempted to implement an aggressive expansionist policy inasmuch as his circumstances would allow, it is difficult to credit Antigonus II Gonatas, Demetrius II Aetolicus, and Antigonus III Doson, whose reigns were much more defensive, with the explicit pursuit of such an aim.³⁷ Moreover, Philip’s origins are couched in the vague phrase ἐξ οἰκίας . . . τοιαύτης, making no distinction between the Argead or Antigonid houses. This vagueness extends throughout the Histories ³⁶ See Polybius, Loeb, Book 5.102, n. 186. Walbank (1993) 1724–6 = (2002) 129–30. ³⁷ Walbank (1982) 219–21 = (2002) 112–13; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 279.

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as Philip II and Alexander, as well as Antigonus Doson, appear as Philip’s predecessors in Polybius’ criticism of the sacrilege at Thermum (5.9–12), as well as in the historian’s parallel of Philip V and Perseus with Philip II and Alexander much later in Book 22 (22.18.10). For Polybius, and perhaps for the wider audience, there seems to be little distinction between the two royal houses. It is in the use of such vague terminology, however, that Polybius is able to link Philip V with the renowned figures of Philip II and Alexander, as well as other successful kings from the Antigonid line. Not only is Philip successful and daring, but he is also trying to emulate his more famous predecessors in his bid to increase the kingdom territorially. By this close association, the historian is able to credit Philip V, from a very young age, with similar tendencies towards expansion.³⁸ Polybius therefore exaggerates the Macedonian king’s ambition for universal dominion, and it may be pointed out that Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years would not be the only episode to contain exaggerations and even inaccuracies in describing the king’s character or motivations. This has already been shown in Chapters 2 and 3. Walbank’s argument that Polybius is at fault for inaccuracy may, therefore, when taken in a wider context, be further substantiated. Yet, although Polybius may be accused of historical inaccuracy, his characterization of Philip is consistent throughout his work. His depiction of the king would have been convincing and most likely believed and accepted. It is in the early stages of the king’s career that the historian asserts that Philip’s plans of expansion were more specific and targeted. Philip, we are told, was set on invading Italy in 217 . The seeds of this idea he attributes to the advice of Demetrius of Pharus (5.101.6–10), encouraged further by Agelaus’ speech at Naupactus when he suggests that the king end the war with the Aetolians, turn his attention to the west, and keep his eyes on the war in Italy so that he might someday compete for the sovereignty of the world (5.104.7). However, although there may have initially been plans for such an endeavour, events soon made it impossible for them to come to fruition. Even Polybius himself makes no further references to Philip’s Italian ambitions after 215 . The king’s initial attempts to travel north up the Adriatic Sea and along the coast of Illyria (the obvious place from which to cross over to Italy) were only moderately successful and efforts to seize the Roman protected Illyrian territories bordering Macedonia and Epirus proved disastrous (Plb. 5.108–10). Certainly, if Philip had originally had thoughts of an invasion of Italy then they were soon quashed by the strength of the Roman fleet and became limited to Illyria. Nor does the treaty contracted between Philip and Hannibal in 215  mean that the king had any plans to attempt the acquisition of Italian soil; the terms of the treaty indicated the

³⁸ Walbank (1993) 1725–30 = (2002) 131–6; cf. Eckstein (2008) 81–2.

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territorial limitations that applied to each party—Hannibal was to take Italy, while Philip was to obtain Illyria (Plb. 7.9).³⁹ Moreover, in the following years (213–212) Philip concentrated on securing or expanding into Illyria, Dardania, Dassaretia, and Thrace in the immediate west, north, and east, and only returned to Greece to fight the First Macedonian War against Aetolia and Rome in 211. After the war, the Macedonian king looked to expand into the Aegean (205–200); the pact with Antiochus III in 203  to seize Egyptian territory after the death of Ptolemy IV presenting an excellent opportunity to seize Aegean islands unopposed. Philip, of course, did not waste this opportunity (Plb. 15.20, 15.24; see Chapter 3). The Second Macedonian War saw Philip back in mainland Greece in 199  and his defeat at Cynoscephalae in 197 . Thoughts of expansion in any area were temporarily postponed in the wake of Roman peace conditions dictating that the Macedonian king relinquish his claims to territory in mainland Greece, the Aegean, and Thrace. In 191–190 , he was permitted to keep Dolopia, Aperantia, and much of Perrhaebia after aiding the Romans in their war against Antiochus III and Aetolia, and the king once again felt he could attempt to gain further acquisitions. However, the subsequent seizure and garrison of the Thracian cities Maronea and Aenus in 187  proved to be a mistake, as it aggravated the Thracians and King Eumenes of Pergamum to such a degree that flurries of complaints were sent to Rome (22.1–11; Livy 39.27). To please their allies, particularly King Eumenes, and keep a limit on the Macedonian king’s strength, the Romans forced Philip to give up the two cities (184 ), embittering their relationship. It was not until the last years of the king’s life (183–179 ) that Polybius says Philip returned to a course of aggression against Rome; an act of vengeance for their mistreatment of him. Although it may be an interpretation that is perhaps too assertively made, it is, however, an essential part of the overall assessment, characterization, and structure of the king’s life within the context of the Histories and must be understood in this light. There may even be a parallel between the beginning and end of Philip’s reign, both of which feature Rome as a target of aggression under Polybius’ construction. The restatement of Philip’s interest in Italy, alongside his continuous attempts to expand in general, reinforces this characteristic in the king in the mind of the reader and make it more believable that he could later become obsessed with revenge against the western power. Polybius is building up the credibility of his whole picture of the king by repeatedly exposing his readers to this specific theme.

³⁹ For the treaty between Hannibal and Philip, see Bickerman (1944) 87–102 and (1952) 1–23; Chroust (1954) 60–107; Pédech (1964) 102–4; Walbank HCP II 55–6; Barré (1983) for the gods listed; Gruen (1984) 375–7; Mantel (1995) 175–80; Eckstein (2008) 83–6; and D’Agostini (2019) 142–4.

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Hindsight and Teleology Polybius’ interpretation of Philip is based on hindsight, an element which greatly affected the whole of Polybius’ work and way of thinking, and one which he makes no apologies for. As discussed in the introduction, Polybius’ work possesses a certain teleological quality which stretches throughout the extent of his work and was important in the creation of historical explanation. While Grethlein explored Polybius’ use of retrospect and teleology regarding his overarching subject—the emergence of Rome as the supreme power in the Mediterranean—it is a design which, in respect of the interconnectedness of the events he is telling and the universal method he uses, must also have reached all parts of the narrative. This would include Macedon as the events leading up to its destruction by Rome were particularly important in explaining the western power’s prominence. The life and career of Philip, as the first Macedonian king to have direct contact with Rome in the latter’s movements east in the third century, as well as that of his son Perseus, were particularly important in explaining how the fall of the Macedonian kingdom came about. The account of each of their reigns would therefore have been structured and described accordingly, with Rome’s final victory expected and in sight from the beginning. There is justification therefore in considering the account of Philip’s life (as well as Perseus’) in light of a teleological scheme.⁴⁰ The notion that history could only be written when events had come to an end, that hindsight was essential for writing a meaningful account, had been expressed earlier by Herodotus (1.32.9; 7.51.3).⁴¹ Polybius, however, as Grethlein explains, was even more favourable towards hindsight as he used it unabashedly. This is made particularly clear, conversely, in a discussion laying out the importance of beginnings and endings for meaningful history: οἱ μὲν γὰρ ἀρχαῖοι τὴν ἀρχὴν ἥμισυ τοῦ παντὸς εἶναι φάσκοντες μεγίστην παρῄνουν ποιεῖσθαι σπουδὴν ἐν ἑκάστοις ὑπὲρ τοῦ καλῶς ἄρξασθαι: δοκοῦντες δὴ λέγειν ὑπερβολικῶς ἐλλιπέστερόν μοι φαίνονται τῆς ἀληθείας εἰρηκέναι. θαρρῶν γὰρ ἄν τις εἴπειεν οὐχ ἥμισυ τὴν ἀρχὴν εἶναι τοῦ παντός, ἀλλὰ καὶ πρὸς τὸ τέλος διατείνειν. πῶς γὰρ ἄρξασθαί τινος καλῶς οἷόν τε μὴ προπεριλαβόντα τῷ νῷ τὴν συντέλειαν τῆς ἐπιβολῆς μηδὲ γινώσκοντα ποῦ καὶ πρὸς τί καὶ τίνος χάριν ἐπιβάλλεται τοῦτο ποιεῖν; πῶς δὲ πάλιν οἷόν τε συγκεφαλαιώσασθαι πράγματα δεόντως μὴ συναναφέροντα τὴν ἀρχὴν πόθεν ἢ πῶς ἢ διὰ τί πρὸς τὰς ἐνεστώσας ἀφῖκται πράξεις; διόπερ οὐχ ἕως τοῦ μέσου νομίζοντας διατείνειν τὰς ἀρχάς, ἀλλ᾽ ἕως τοῦ τέλους, πλείστην περὶ ταύτας ποιητέον σπουδὴν καὶ τοὺς λέγοντας καὶ τοὺς ἀκούοντας περὶ τῶν ὅλων. ὃ δὴ καὶ νῦν ἡμεῖς πειρασόμεθα ποιεῖν. (5.32)

⁴⁰ See also Pelling (2013) 10–12 and Hau (2013) 73–4 in support of this view. ⁴¹ Grethlein (2013) 185–223.

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For the ancients, saying that the beginning is half of the whole, advised that the greatest care be taken in all matters for the purpose of a good beginning. Although they seem to be exaggerating, they appear to me to have spoken less than the truth. For one could confidently say that the beginning is not half of the whole, but rather stretches as far as the end. For how is it possible to begin something well without one getting a complete grip in one’s mind in advance about the completion of the enterprise, or knowing where, to what end and for what sake he is undertaking to do this? And how again is it possible to summarise events properly without referring to the beginning, and whence, how or why he has arrived at the current situation? On which account we should not think that beginnings stretch only until the middle, but until the end, and both those who speak and hear of a general (‘universal’) history should pay the greatest attention to them. And this then I shall now try to do.

Polybius proclaims that beginnings can only be viewed from the vantage point of the end and by such he highlights the importance of hindsight for historical explanation: it is essential for a historian to know the end of the course of events he wishes to relate in order to bring coherence and meaning to them (cause and effect), and thereby draw out a lesson for the reader. As Grethlein states ‘. . . retrospect lets us see larger lines that are still invisible to historical agents; it is crucial to historical explanation.’⁴² Such a sense of teleology, however, blurs the line between historical events and their presentation, leading away from the perspective of agents and resulting in a work that may easily be faulted with misrepresenting the past.⁴³ This is, of course, a complaint which Walbank levelled at Polybius in discussing the historian’s take on Philip’s last years. He accuses the historian of misrepresenting the Macedonian king’s motivation. The reason for this presentation of Philip, however, is that the whole account of the king’s life, like the whole of Polybius’ narrative, was affected by a thorough knowledge of what happened to the king from beginning to end. Polybius’ interpretation of the king could only have been made after considering Philip’s whole life, in conjunction with other connecting figures and events at the time—particularly Rome’s rise to world power. The historian could only explain why Macedon fell and why a Hellenistic king was defeated by the Romans by keeping in mind both the beginning and the end of the affair. A historically accurate telling of events with emphasis on cause and effect was particularly important to his conception of good historiography. Thus Polybius’ view that Philip was aggressively inclined towards Rome from 183  must have been based on his own observation of the king’s life and was perhaps supported by his sources; an interpretation which developed within the

⁴² Grethlein (2013) 185, 226.

⁴³ Grethlein (2013) 225.

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context of his political preferences and in the course of identifying cause and effect, of trying to make sense of the beginning and end of the king’s reign, and ultimately of the fall of Macedon. His reliance on hindsight to extract historical explanation will have influenced Polybius’ own assessment of the king and may have led him to misrepresent certain features of the king’s character (e.g. his emphasis of the king’s tyrannical and barbarous downfall between 215 and 197 ). Yet it would also be wrong to press this sense of teleology too far, as Polybius was well aware of the contingent nature of events. The teleology of the piece only appears in the fact that these past events are very well known, although perhaps not in detail, by the Greek and Roman worlds alike. The frequent references to Philip’s and Macedon’s end foreshadow the steady move towards this development, but the way this end comes about is often unexpected. Philip frequently defies the expectation of both historical agents and readers: he surprises the Greek world, and even his advisers, by his military skill against the Aetolians, his success at Thermum, his diplomatic reasonableness in dealing with Sparta, and his control of the delicate situation that arose in his court from the Apelles conspiracy.⁴⁴ Furthermore, his attempt to take Messene contrasts with his previous actions in the Peloponnese. Equally, considering his earlier successes and rational approach to difficulties, his sudden panic and retreat from his naval expedition in Illyria in 216 after hearing about the approach of a Roman fleet would seem surprising (5.109–10). Finally, his defeat in the battle of Cynoscephalae (18.18–27; Livy 33.6–10), and particularly the later destruction of the Antigonid dynasty, would probably have shocked the Greek world as it had seen the king and kingdom rise to great prominence only a short time before. Polybius therefore makes use of a teleological framework in structuring his depiction of Philip, a feature which is to some extent unavoidable if he is to explain to his readers from the outset how and why Rome rose to power, and therefore how and why Macedon fell. However, instead of allowing this framework to turn the past into something strongly predetermined and inescapable, he softens its inevitability by playing with the perceptions and expectations of both the historical agents and readers. This creates uncertainty about the outcome of events in the narrative, even if they are already known in reality, and thereby enforces his lessons about the contingency of the past and the unexpected reversals that can occur even if one has tried to prepare for all eventualities (cf. 29.22.2).⁴⁵

⁴⁴ See p. 60 n. 6 for details and scholarship on this conspiracy. ⁴⁵ See Miltsios (2009) for Polybius’ play on the perceptions and expectations of his agents and readers to create suspense and surprise in the narrative. Maier’s work on Polybius’ conception of the past (2012a) 144–68 and (2012b) and use of counterfactual history (2013) 149–70 builds and expands on Miltsios’ work in this area.

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The Pact Between the Kings Evidence of such a teleological design in Polybius’ account of Philip can be seen very clearly in the historian’s structuring of his work around the pact between the Macedonian king and Antiochus III in 203 , and a tendency to foreshadow and repeatedly explain the importance of this event which ultimately resulted in Rome’s supremacy in the Mediterranean. The pact concluded between Philip and Antiochus is an event which Polybius sees as particularly important in bringing about the destruction of the Antigonids and subjugation of the Seleucid kingdom.⁴⁶ It is referred to in the surviving text of the Histories at no less than four different points, each respectively foreshadowing, recording the event, drawing moral conclusions from its consequences, and referring back to it to consolidate historical explanation (3.2–5, 14.1a.2, 15.20, 29.27.11–12). At 3.2–5, describing the main themes and events that will be covered in a ‘table of contents’, Polybius discusses the pact and its repercussions and gives it far more prominence and space than even the end of the Hannibalic War in the same year. Furthermore, it is described with a degree of emotion that is unusual for Polybius—the kings are said to have acted wickedly (κακοπραγμονεῖν; 3.2.8), a description only applied to them and the Celts—and the episode stands out against the rest of the list, foreshadowing how important the pact will be historically.⁴⁷ It looks forward to Book 14 where the details of the pact would have been recorded (unfortunately lost). At 14.1a.2, Polybius, about to begin his account of the Hannibalic War and the pact, says that he will be changing his literary-historical presentation of events to slow the narration down and relate only one year instead of two so that the audience may understand the major historical significance of these two events.⁴⁸ Book 14 was also almost entirely focused on Egypt and the crisis in Ptolemaic power instead of cycling through the various geographical regions as is typical in the majority of his other books.⁴⁹ The year 203  was seen by Polybius as particularly crucial for the emergence of Rome as a world power. The third reference in Book 15 is Polybius’ commentary on the pact, ‘a cascade of moralizing invective’ which reveals the historian’s structure of historical causation (15.20). Set on, as Eckstein says, a ‘double track’, Polybius’ causation operated on both the secular and metaphysical levels, including human agency as well as the power of tyche. He claims that it is by the work of tyche that Philip and Antiochus were almost immediately defeated by Rome and therefore prevented from seizing the territory of others, instead having to pay indemnities to

⁴⁶ Pédech (1964) 109–10; Walbank (2002) 64–5, 68, 102–3; and Eckstein (2008) 132–7. ⁴⁷ Eckstein (2008) 132. ⁴⁸ See also Miltsios (2013) 14. ⁴⁹ Eckstein (2008) 132–3. Cf. Erskine (2013b) 82–96 for the decline in Ptolemaic maritime activity during these years.

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Rome. So too did tyche punish Philip for his earlier misdeeds by the inspired madness at the end of his life, resulting in the anger of his people and the execution of his son Demetrius. Again, there is clear foreshadowing in Book 15 looking towards the end of the Macedonian royal house and the dominion of Rome as Polybius claims that during the reign of their successors tyche brought complete ruin to the Antigonid dynasty and disaster to the Seleucids (15.20.6–9). The fourth and final reference to the pact and its consequences appears in Book 29, when Polybius comments that tyche had managed affairs so that the destruction of the Antigonid monarchy not only saved the Ptolemies and Egypt, but also persuaded Antiochus IV to withdraw from Egypt after Roman demands in light of her recent defeat of Perseus (29.27.11–12).⁵⁰ From as early as Book 3, therefore, even before the beginning of the narrative involving Philip (and Antiochus III) Polybius is looking ahead to Book 14 where he feels the pact between the kings was a crucial moment in the course of history, as well as to the end of the Antigonid dynasty and Rome’s supremacy in the Mediterranean in Book 29. Further foreshadowing and narrative patterning may be seen in Polybius’ construction of the king’s character. The advice given to Philip by Demetrius of Pharus in 217 , directing the king’s gaze to events in the west (5.101.6–10), and Agelaus’ further encouragement (5.104.7) both contain obvious elements of foreshadowing. Demetrius’ advice to Philip opened the king’s eyes to aggression against Rome; and Agelaus’ speech looks directly forward to a time when Macedon and Rome would fight for dominion. In doing so, the audience, who would be aware of the outcome of the conflict between the two powers, would be reminded both of the Second Macedonian War when Macedon was defeated by Rome and her supremacy in Greece obliterated, and of the Third Macedonian War which, albeit fought by Philip’s son, saw the destruction of the Macedonian kingdom and Rome’s supremacy in the eastern Mediterranean. Polybius’ use of a teleological scheme was not explicitly recognized in Walbank’s 1938 article and this, as well as the fact that Polybius was otherwise viewed to represent events and motives truthfully with little regard for style, is why such a feeling of dissatisfaction has been held in regard to this episode. If this last episode is viewed in isolation, disconnected from the earlier events of the king’s life, and when these earlier events are considered to be generally accurate while this last chapter of Polybius’ narrative is not, then the historian’s account of Philip’s last years becomes rather problematic. However, not only has this volume already argued that the whole of Polybius’ account of Philip’s life should be treated with caution, but it is now also recognized that Polybius was very interested in how his work was structured and the propagation of specific political and didactic

⁵⁰ Eckstein (2008) 135–6.

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aims. In this light, we cannot separate the introduction to the king’s final years from what has been said about him previously. This is especially apparent in light of the above passage where Polybius explicitly says that beginnings and endings have to be closely connected and that the whole course of events needs to be known to the historian in order to create historical explanation. Polybius himself would certainly not have concluded Philip’s life in a way which he felt was unsuitable or inconsistent with his overall scheme. We cannot tell, of course, what Philip’s motives were during this period, and scholarly opinion is divided. Polybius may be right or wrong in his interpretation of Philip. However, what can be said is that the depiction of an aggressive king aiming at conquest, presented specifically in opposition to Rome in his last years, was a deliberate strategy in Polybius’ work and was developed from an early stage. In realizing that the whole account of Philip V has been consciously constructed from the beginning to fit coherently with such an end, then to claim that Polybius’ has misunderstood Philip’s situation and policies in 184  amounts to not looking at his work in the correct way. This, of course, does mean that we cannot altogether trust the historian’s interpretation of the king in historical terms. Philip was interested in conquest, illustrated by his numerous attempts on Illyrian, Greek, Thracian, and Aegean cities, an ambition undoubtedly fed by the need to continuously demonstrate and prove his strength by military display and victory. Yet Polybius’ account is, at certain points, exaggerated. This should not stop us, however, from acknowledging the excellence of the historian’s efforts to produce a coherent and intelligent historical explanation for the rise of Rome and the fall of the eastern Mediterranean. While Polybius’ depiction of Philip’s motives, as Walbank so perceptively understood in 1938, may be at moments historically flawed, dictated undoubtedly by his recourse to retrospection and an emphasis on the political and didactic purpose of his portrayal of the king, we cannot say that Polybius’ account of Philip was inconsistent or contradictory. To say that ‘Polybius’ account of these last years of Philip are one of the least satisfying of his whole work’⁵¹ because the historian misunderstood Philip’s position and policy is in fact misconstruing what Polybius was trying to achieve.

The Consistency and Decisiveness of Philip In 2013, Boris Dreyer argued that Polybius depicted both Philip and his son Perseus as indecisive and inconsistent.⁵² As this investigation has revealed a

⁵¹ Walbank (1938) 67 = (1985) 223. ⁵² Dreyer (2013a) 201–12. In Perseus’ case, Dreyer’s argument is based on the king’s refusal to keep to obligations with hired barbarian tribes, his spendthrift nature, his loss of nerve in battle, and the fact that he did not burn his documents after his defeat by the Romans at Pydna (unlike his father after

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different image of the king in the Histories, one very much more decisive and consistent, this argument requires closer examination. In the case of Philip, Dreyer’s claim based on two fragmentary sectons in Polybius’ work. The first criticizes his failure to take the opportunity to continue sailing on to Alexandria and attempt its capture after the battle of Lade, and thereby hindering his own pursuit of universal rule (201 ; 16.10). The other draws attention to the hesitation shown by the king when dealing with the quarrel between his two sons and facing the prospect of executing one of them (23.10.12–13; cf. Livy 40.23.5–6). A caveat is in order, however. Only two passages in Polybius’ Histories are used to substantiate the assertion that Philip was indecisive at crucial moments, and we also have no other surviving passages from the Histories to indicate that this was a pervasive approach in Polybius’ interpretation of the king. Moreover, shortcomings can be found in both of these examples. Philip may have been aiming to make an attempt on Alexandria in 201 , as Polybius states, since Egypt was considered weak during this period and an attempt on the city would have been consistent with the king’s grand ambitions.⁵³ However, it seems that Philip was prevented from following this plan by the Rhodians who had been angered by the king’s expansionist policy in the Aegean from 205  and his sabotage of their fleet in 204. After his capture of a number of islands (particularly Cius and Thasos) in 202 and 201 (see Chapters 3 and 4 for details), they finally confronted the king at Lade suffering a close defeat (16.10, 15). It is here that Polybius includes his digression, criticizing Philip for not going ahead with his plan and hindering his own ambitions on account of confusion and weakness of mind. However, while the historian may have thought that the period after the battle was the opportune moment to resume this endeavour, Philip himself may have felt very differently. Such a venture immediately after a battle which, although won by the Macedonian king, was not a great victory would have been dangerous.⁵⁴ The Rhodians had retreated after only negligible losses and by heading south Philip would have left the Aegean with an enemy far from decisively defeated and whose numbers would soon be enlarged by Pergamene forces (Plb. 16.1–9). Instead of heading south to Egypt, therefore, Philip decided to move against Pergamum, intending to drive King Attalus out of the war before his Cynoscephalae). The evidence for this characteristic in Perseus is, however, also problematic as it does not necessarily reveal moments of indecision, but rather ruthlessness, stinginess, cowardice, and despair. Moreover, many of the examples are based on judgements made by Polybius in pursuit of a didactic and political work which explains why Macedon was defeated by Rome and will therefore be tainted by his interpretation and shaping of events along these lines. Cf. Thornton (2020a) 302–4 for discussion of Walbank’s and Dreyer’s accounts of Philip’s last years. ⁵³ Egypt’s weakness is a perception based on Ptolemy IV’s lack of interest in foreign policy, the fickleness of their hired foreign mercenaries, the unsettled Alexandrian populace, the eruption of a massive indigenous rebellion in 207, and finally the sudden death of Ptolemy IV and the accession of the 5-year-old Ptolemy V in 204. See Hölbl (2001) 125–34, Eckstein (2008) 132–3, Dreyer (2013b) 233–49, and Erskine (2013b) 82–96. ⁵⁴ De Sanctis (1923) 1.10; Walbank (1940) 120–1, 307; and Pédech (1964) 111, 241.

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military preparations could be completed. The king’s decision not to sail south to Alexandria at this time does not, therefore, represent a moment of indecision, but rather a moment of logical reasoning, acknowledgement of setbacks, and adaptability.⁵⁵ In the second example: Philip is certainly described by Polybius as distracted ‘day and night’ (ἐστροβεῖτο νύκτωρ καὶ μεθ᾽ ἡμέραν περὶ τούτων διανοούμενος) by having to choose first whether or not to execute his sons or be killed by them, and secondly which of the two he should have killed (23.10.12–14). Yet, making any conclusions about Polybius’ depiction of Philip here is problematic as the passage cuts off before the description of the quarrel and how Philip dealt with it. We must rely instead on Livy’s account to complete some of the picture, but even in this version the final stages of the feud seem to have been compressed for dramatic effect—the date of Demetrius’ assassination is uncertain, for example—and we cannot know what was omitted from Polybius’ account.⁵⁶ What Livy does reveal, however, is that after Philip’s sons had each given their speeches in the spring of 182  (Livy 40.5–16), Philip announced that he would not make a decision based on what they had said in a single hour’s debate; a verdict would only be made after an inquiry into the life and character of each prince (Livy 40.16.2–3). Given the seriousness of the situation and the consequences that any resolution would have for the future of the royal house and kingdom, both in regard to internal stability and externally in Macedon’s relations with Rome, an attempt to clarify the situation and come to a more informed decision was very sensible.⁵⁷ In the autumn of the same year the king, therefore, sent two ambassadors to Rome to investigate Demetrius’ relationship with Flamininus, who had been in correspondence with his son since his return to Macedonia in 191 (40.20.3). While awaiting news, Philip makes a reconnaissance mission up Mt. Haemus with Perseus, leaving Demetrius at home. This exclusion from his war councils and confidence may well reflect the king’s growing suspicions regarding his younger son’s loyalty. The king then hears, while on this venture, that Demetrius planned to make an escape to Rome; however, he still decides to wait upon the report from Italy before taking any action (40.23). While this could be considered hesitation, had Philip acted against his younger son at this point his behaviour would have been based purely on suspicion, not proof. After several anxious months, the ambassadors finally return in the autumn of 181, producing a letter from Flamininus which supports Perseus’ charges of treason (40.23). On receipt of this evidence, the king sends Demetrius to Astraeum in Paeonia, and has him assassinated along the way at Heraclea at the end of 181 or in the first half of 180. ⁵⁵ Interestingly these are all qualities which Polybius is trying to instil in his readers. The fact that he subverts them in his treatment of the king is representative of his selective, subjective approach. ⁵⁶ Walbank (1940) 335. ⁵⁷ For the quarrel between Perseus and Demetrius and its implications for Macedonian national policy, see also Dell (1983) 67–76.

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At the same time, Perseus is sent to Amphipolis to manage Philip’s Thracian ventures, a move which seems decisive in its support of his elder son. In the surviving passage of Polybius’ Histories we are presented only with one description of Philip’s confusion and despair, his exaggerated fears. It is a scene of high emotion, tragically displayed to emphasize the importance of the coming events and to evoke sympathy for the disasters affecting such a great figure. Yet, Livy shows that Philip’s actions, although motivated by uncertainty, are considered and cautious. The king refuses to rely exclusively on the impassioned accusations of Perseus and actively seeks out more information—considering the consequences of such a claim, it is sound judgement to want further proof before making a verdict. Finally, it appears that it is primarily during the wait for evidence that Philip is most anxious and hesitant; when proof is finally produced implicating Demetrius in high treason Philip takes decisive action to execute his son shortly afterwards. Significantly, this insistence on waiting for proof is a rational strategy which Philip also used in his handling of another earlier, equally crucial dispute—the Apelles Conspiracy in 219–17  (4.84–5; 5.14–16, 5.25–9). The reasons for his hesitation are therefore unique to this situation, not altogether surprising or unexpected, and do not in fact stop Philip from finding evidence or making a decision. Nor are indecision or inconsistency characteristics in the king which Polybius claims anywhere in the surviving narrative to be a recurring factor or key in the fate of the Macedonian kingdom. The historian’s criticism of Philip’s failure to continue pursuing his original goal after Lade is turned into a moment of reflection discussing the natural predilection of all men to fall into confusion and despair in the face of insurmountable difficulties while pursuing large ambitions (16.10.2–4). Unfortunately, we do not know what else Polybius had to say about this topic, or how it affected Philip’s portrait, as the passage cuts off at this point. We cannot say therefore that Polybius considered indecision and inconsistency as general characteristics of the king that extended beyond the moment. Similarly, nowhere in the surviving material does Polybius specifically state that it was Philip’s hesitation when mediating between his sons that was disastrous for the Macedonian house. Even in Livy no such comment is made. What is stated by both is that the quarrel between the two brothers was one of the causes of the Third Macedonian War (Livy 40.16.3), but this can only mean that the result of the quarrel—the increased distrust of Rome and the execution of the one person who had appeased Rome in the past—was part of its cause, not that Philip’s indecision brought it about.

Part 2: The Tragic Mode of Philip’s Last Years The tragic and moralistic mode of Philip’s last years also needs consideration, particularly following Walbank’s claim that this specific episode represents the

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least satisfying part of Polybius’ whole work. Once again, we must remember that the whole picture of Philip is being constructed to fit certain themes and aims, and to come coherently to a designated end. In the same way that the whole of Philip’s life has been deliberately constructed around a teleological design, so too has the ‘tragic’ flavour of the last years been created as a deliberate feature. As we have seen throughout the course of this chapter and volume, and as has also been discussed by McGing and Miltsios, Polybius was particularly concerned about the structure of his work and took great efforts to make sure everything was as clear as possible for his readers, while at the same time also wishing to make his narrative as attractive as he could to retain their interest. His use of references to tragedy and the stage in the course of his account of Philip’s last years is therefore very likely in aid of all of these aims: to make what happens clearly understood, to make the account interesting, and at the same time to reinforce his political and didactic agendas. This section will first discuss what may initially seem to be a hypocritical contradiction in Polybius’ use of a tragic mode and his earlier attacks on ‘tragic’ historians, particularly Phylarchus in Book 2.⁵⁸ This was briefly mentioned earlier, as discussed by Walbank himself in his 1938 article, but has also been extended and explored in a later article by the same author discussing the similarities and differences between history and tragedy, and more recently by Richard Rutherford and John Marincola.⁵⁹ Moreover, Johstono has also explored another example of ‘tragic patterning’ in Polybius—his account of the end of Agathocles in Book 15— and similarly responded to these discussions about tragic history by reinforcing the fact that Polybius was not opposed to vivid and dramatic language and structuring in his Histories if he thought it expedient for his didactic agenda.⁶⁰ These conclusions are particularly important for understanding Polybius’ conception of history and tragedy, and highlight the special meaning the historian ascribes to the concept of ‘tragic’ in his attack on other works and also, more importantly for this chapter, goes some way to explain why Polybius wrote his whole account of Philip in the manner that he did. Having addressed this issue, this section will then be able to turn more specifically to how the use of a ‘tragic mode’ not only helps the historian develop his agenda but also helps the audience understand the events of the king’s life. It is now more commonly accepted that the modern concept of ‘tragic history’ as a separate category in need of explanation has been too rigidly

⁵⁸ There is a vast amount of scholarship on tragic history. Meister (1975) 109–26 provides details of scholarship up until the early 1970s, otherwise see Sacks (1981) 144–70; Fornara (1983) 124–34; Zucchelli (1985) 297–309; Meister (1990) 95–101; Rebenich (1997) 265–337; Halliwell (2002) 289–92; Marincola (2003) 285–315 and (2009) 445–60; McGing (2010) 71–5; and Marincola (2013) 73–90. ⁵⁹ Walbank (1985) 224–41 = (1960) 216–34); Rutherford (2007) 504–14; Marincola (2013) 73–90. ⁶⁰ See Johstono (2017) 1–20 for tragic patterns in Polybius’ account of Agathocles at Alexandria.

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defined and is ‘very largely a figment and a distortion’.⁶¹ For the ancients the line between tragedy and history was in fact rather more difficult to determine; there was a great degree of overlap, even confusion, between the two genres as they were ‘akin’ particularly for their employment of the same subject matter, epic.⁶² This is shown by the need, for example shown by Aristotle in his Poetics and Lucian in his How to Write History (8–9), to discuss the differences between history and poetry. Furthermore, both forms of writing were ascribed a moral, didactic purpose.⁶³ Tragedy was generally believed to hold educational value, a feature credited as its main function not only by later Byzantine grammarians and scholiasts, such as Dionysius Thrax (second/first century ),⁶⁴ but also earlier by Aristophanes in the whole course of his play The Frogs, and the late fifth- or early fourth-century dramatist, Timocles.⁶⁵ The latter explicitly stated, according to Athenaeus, that ‘the poor man, for instance, learns that Telephus was more beggarly than himself, and from that time on he bears his poverty more easily . . . One has lost his son in death: Niobe is a comfort. Another is lame: he sees Philoctetes . . . Thus he is reminded that all his calamities . . . have happened to others, and so he bears his own trials more readily’ (Athen. 6.223b–d). Interestingly this function is remarkably similar to one applied to history. The recognition of this feature appears from the foundation of the genre when Herodotus claims in the fifth century that explanation of the past is to be one of the aims of his work (1.1.0). This function is developed a little later by Thucydides, who explicitly hopes that his work will be useful to those readers wishing to know the past as an aid to dealing with the future (1.22.4). Polybius, of course, in his prokataskeue at 1.1.2, continues with this theme, claiming that by learning about the misfortunes suffered by others we may learn how to endure the vicissitudes of fortune with greater resolve. Similarly, Diodorus also noted tragedy’s inducement to piety and justice, while exclaiming the extra weight history’s recording of truth and philosophy had on shaping men’s characters in honourable ways (Diod.1.2.2). For the latter two authors, history was, as Walbank claims, ‘a store house of examples calculated to help the reader either morally or practically according to the bent of the particular writer’.⁶⁶ Similar attitudes towards history appear later in Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Cicero, Quintilian, and Lucian.⁶⁷ Therefore, in consideration of the similar foundation and purpose of the two

⁶¹ Walbank (1960) 217 = (1985) 225; Marincola (2003) 286. See also Marincola (1999) 281-324 for arguments against over-schematic views of genre in historiography. ⁶² Walbank (1960) 221–8 = (1985) 229–36 for their kinship. See also Marincola (2013) 90 for the lessons the genre of epic provided tragedians and historians alike in the construction of their narrative. ⁶³ See Heath (1987) 37–88 and Croally (2008). ⁶⁴ Scholia Dion. Thrax p. 746.1. ⁶⁵ Timocles, F 6.1–7, 17–19 K-A. See also Croally (2008) 59–60. ⁶⁶ Walbank (1985) 236. ⁶⁷ Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.6.1–5; Cic. Leg. 1.5; Quint. 10.1.31; Luc. The Writing of History 9.

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genres, it is not surprising that the treatment applied to one could also be applied to the other.⁶⁸ Dramatic elements are therefore found, and frequently approved of, in a large number of ancient historical texts. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, for example, noted the highly emotional quality (enargeia) of Thucydides’ narrative, referencing particularly the harrowing events at Plataea, Mytilene, and Melos (Dion. Hal. Thuc. 15). Plutarch similarly praised him for his constant efforts in creating vividness, making the reader a spectator and inspiring emotions of amazement and consternation as if they were eyewitnesses (De. glor. Ath. 347a). Xenophon was also recognized and praised for the experiential quality of both the Hellenica and the Anabasis (Dion. Hal. De imit. 426.7; Lucian, Eikones 10; Plut. Artax. 8.1), and Plutarch himself, although not strictly a historian, is frequently known to create emotionally charged passages (see for example in his account of the battle of Gaugamela at Alex. 31.6–33.11; and of course, Aratus’ capture of Acrocorinthus, Arat.18–23).⁶⁹ While modern audiences may not find the descriptions contained in these narratives so affecting, it seems that the ancient Greeks reacted far more directly and emotionally to both the written and spoken word. For them, tragedy and history were connected in their construction, which aimed at evoking and playing upon the emotions of the reader or listener.⁷⁰ The link and confusion between tragedy and history by ancient authors was therefore forged ‘by virtue of descent and of analogous literary techniques, it was encouraged by a common moral aim and by the sharpness of Greek emotional sensibility, and it was taught in the rhetorical schools to generations of Greek students’.⁷¹ It is therefore not surprising that Polybius would have used elements within his Histories which might be categorized as tragic. As stated in the Introduction, we should not underestimate the literary and rhetorical complexity of the historian, nor typecast him as one immune from bias, partial analysis, and sensationalism. He was very much embedded in the wider Hellenistic intellectual tradition which permitted and accepted the integration of these features. Any similarities in the subject matter therefore, in the moral nature, or in the vivid features of his work with tragedy were not unusual. The line between the two genres was inherently blurred and few Greek writers attempted to divide the two.⁷² Moreover, the

⁶⁸ See Walbank (1960) 229–30 = (1985) 237, and also Marincola (2013) 88–90 for the attempts by ancient historians to argue that history was superior to tragedy because of its use of true events, while tragedy used fiction, and their criticism of those historians who invented certain elements within their work. ⁶⁹ For Thucydides’s use of enargeia Kitto (1966) 298–9; Connor (1985) 1–17: Greenwood (2006) 19–41; Grethlein (2013) 29–52. For Xenophon’s use of energeia, see Lendle (1995) 1.8.8; Grethlein (2013) 53–91. For vividness in Plutarch, see Frazier (1992) 4487–535; Soares (2007) 85–100; Beck (2007) 399; and Grethlein (2013) 94–130. ⁷⁰ Marincola (2003) 285–315 and (2013) 90. ⁷¹ Walbank (1985) 241. ⁷² Walbank (1985) 241.

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complaints that Polybius made against Phylarchus and other ‘tragic historians’ are, rather than attacks on their use of emotional and vivid elements in general, instead in response to the extent that they were first prone to sensational exaggeration and inaccuracy which would distort the truth, and secondly to a lack of attention to cause and effect which would deviate from the didactic and truthful purpose of history.⁷³ It was all about a matter of degree.⁷⁴ In the case of Polybius’ polemic against Phylarchus, it is very likely that the historian’s statements censuring ‘tragic’ elements in historical works are exaggerated by the vehemence of his disagreement with Phylarchus’ political perspective and not really a reflection of his own, or the general, attitude towards the writing of history. Furthermore, as Marincola has pointed out, the invocation of strong emotions was not the sole domain of tragedy, but also rhetoric and oratory which aimed to persuade the audience to a certain point of view. Historiography, which also held such a goal, was therefore similarly associated with rhetoric and frequently included its techniques of persuasion.⁷⁵ For Polybius, the production of certain emotions in the audience, instead of being something to avoid, had a valid role to play in historiography, provided that they were produced in appropriate contexts and mindful of the truth. They could reinforce and support the moral and historical analysis being expounded.⁷⁶ The peculiar tragic and emotional quality of the last years of Philip’s life would not therefore have compromised its worth in the eyes of the historian or of his original ancient audience. In fact, it may very well have had the opposite effect as it came to present a moment of importance. The conceptualization and structuring of historical narrative would also have been conditioned by this close association of history to tragedy in the ancient Greek mind. Grethlein notes rightly that ‘the notion of drama helps Polybius to conceptualize the unity of the history he was writing about’.⁷⁷ This statement was made in recognition, not only by Grethlein but also by a number of other commentators, of a similarity between Polybius’ reflection on unity and Aristotle’s analysis of tragedy. Polybius writes at 3.1.4–5 that: ὄντος γὰρ ἑνὸς ἔργου καὶ θεάματος ἑνὸς τοῦ σύμπαντος, ὑπὲρ οὗ γράφειν ἐπικεχειρήκαμεν, τοῦ πῶς καὶ πότε καὶ διὰ τί πάντα τὰ γνωριζόμενα μέρη τῆς οἰκουμένης ὑπὸ τὴν Ῥωμαίων δυναστείαν ἐγένετο, τούτου δ᾽ ἔχοντος καὶ τὴν ἀρχὴν γνωριζομένην καὶ τὸν χρόνον ὡρισμένον καὶ τὴν συντέλειαν ὁμολογουμένην, χρήσιμον ἡγούμεθ᾽ εἶναι καὶ τὸ περὶ τῶν μεγίστων ἐν αὐτῷ μερῶν, ὅσα μεταξὺ κεῖται τῆς ἀρχῆς καὶ τοῦ τέλους, κεφαλαιωδῶς ἐπιμνησθῆναι καὶ προεκθέσθαι. ⁷³ See Grethlein (2013) 249–52, and Marincola (2013) 73–90. ⁷⁴ Cf. Lucian, How to Write History 44–6 for the appropriate use of poetic language in history. ⁷⁵ Marincola (2003) 290–2, 300–1. See also Arist. Rhet. ii.1, 1378a19–22. See also Farrington (2011) 324–42 for rhetoric and truth in Polybius. ⁷⁶ Levene (1997) 134; Walbank (2002) 231–41; Marincola (2003) 300–1; and Grethlein (2013) 249. ⁷⁷ Grethlein (2013) 229.

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Since what I have set my hand to write is one action and one spectacle of the whole – the how, when and why – all the known parts of the oikoumene came under Roman dominion, and since this has a recognised beginning, fixed duration, and undisputed outcome, I think it useful to recall and lay out in advance a summary of the most important parts in it, which all lie between the beginning and the end.

This passage reflects the same concern for plot voiced by Aristotle in his Poetics, where the philosopher elaborates on the importance of unity and cites the beginning, middle, and end as the three basic components of tragedy (Arist. Poet. 1450b26–30). Both authors also put special emphasis on the end, the conclusion to the narrative, and so enforce its need for climatic significance. This is a feature which is also apparent in the tragic end to Philip’s life. It is uncertain, however, if Polybius ever read Aristotle’s Poetics—there have been inconclusive arguments on both sides⁷⁸—yet, as the previous paragraphs illustrated, history and tragedy were to an extent intertwined and Aristotle would not necessarily have been considered the ultimate source of their definition. The necessary components in the execution of their plot could very well have been more generally known.⁷⁹ Regardless of Polybius’ awareness of Aristotle’s Poetics, Grethlein’s statement about the notion of drama helping Polybius to conceptualize his Histories is supported by more explicit evidence. Polybius is, for example, particularly fond of using tyche as ‘a stage director’ which in turn ‘implies viewing history as a drama’.⁸⁰ Polybius’ use of tyche in directing the crucial moments in the development of the rise of Rome, and the destruction of Philip and Antiochus, has already been mentioned above in his creation of causation, yet the connection made between tyche and the stage is also more explicitly voiced. At 23.10.16, for example, the historian asserts that tyche acted as if of set purpose in bringing the misfortunes of the Macedonian people and of the royal house onto the stage at one and the same time ( . . . τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἀναβιβαζούσης ἐπὶ σκηνὴν ἐν ἑνὶ καιρῷ τὰς τούτων συμφοράς). Much earlier in Book 11, the image is drawn out further in a speech by an unknown Thrasycrates, who addresses an Aetolian congress in 207  compelling them to end their war against Philip which was entered into with Roman support, and warning against the repercussions in the case of Macedon’s destruction and a Roman victory for the Greeks:

⁷⁸ For the assertion that Polybius was directly influenced by Aristotle’s Poetics see e.g. von Scala (1890) 126–53; Williams (2007) 1–64; and Hartog (2010) 30–40. Ziegler (1952) 1470 argues against this influence. For caution on attempts to link the Poetics to Polybius, see Marincola (2013) 85–86, 90. For Aristotle in Polybius, see also Lossau (1990) 109–22. ⁷⁹ Halliwell (2002) 210–11 notes that Aristotle’s Poetics was not a prominent text in the Hellenistic period, and Hoffmann (2002) 210–11 sees an indirect connection between the two. ⁸⁰ Grethlein (2013) 228–9.

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νυνὶ δὲ διὰ τῆς Ὠρειτῶν καὶ τῶν ταλαιπώρων Αἰγινητῶν ἅπασι γεγόνατε καταφανεῖς, τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἐπὶ τὴν ἐξώστραν ἀναβιβαζούσης τὴν ὑμετέραν ἄγνοιαν. ἡ μὲν οὖν ἀρχὴ τοῦ πολέμου καὶ τὰ νῦν ἤδη συμβαίνοντα τοιαῦτ᾽ ἐστί: τὸ δὲ τέλος, ἂν ὅλως πάντα κατὰ νοῦν ὑμῖν χωρήσῃ, ποῖόν τι δεῖ προσδοκᾶν; ἆρ᾽ οὐ κακῶν ἀρχὴν μεγάλων ἅπασι τοῖς Ἕλλησιν; (11.5.8–9) But now, because of the fate of the people of Oreus and the miserable Aeginetans, you have become transparent to everyone, and tyche, as if of set purpose, has brought your [Aetolian] ignorance onto the stage. The beginning of the war and the things which are already happening are like this: but what end must we expect, if everything goes entirely as you had in mind? Is it not the beginning of great disasters for all the Greeks?

Later too, in Book 29, a similar phrase is used in another unrelated situation, when the Rhodians approach the Romans after the defeat of Perseus encouraging peace between the two powers: ὅτι κατὰ τὸν καιρόν, ἐν ᾧ Περσεὺς ἡττηθεὶς ἀνεδίδρασκεν, ἔδοξε τῇ συγκλήτῳ τοὺς παρὰ τῶν Ῥοδίων πρεσβευτὰς παραγεγονότας ὑπὲρ τοῦ διαλύειν τὸν πρὸς Περσέα πόλεμον προσκαλέσασθαι, τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἀναβιβαζούσης ἐπὶ σκηνὴν τὴν τῶν Ῥοδίων ἄγνοιαν, εἰ χρὴ Ῥοδίων λέγειν, ἀλλὰ μὴ τῶν ἐπιπολασάντων ἀνθρώπων τότε κατὰ τὴν Ῥόδον. (29.19.1–2) At the time when Perseus was beaten and ran away, it was decided by the senate to summon the envoys from Rhodes who had come for the purpose of bringing the war with Perseus to an end, but Fortune, as if of set purpose, brought the ignorance of the Rhodians onto the stage—if indeed we should say of the Rhodians, and not rather of the men who had then come to the surface at Rhodes.

These examples show explicitly that there is a notion of drama within Polybius’ Histories—intimately connected with reversals of fortune, a feature often associated with tragedy—and that this extends beyond the last years of Philip and even the Macedonian context. This, of course, enhances the argument for the confusion of genres in antiquity.⁸¹ By using theatrical elements within a historical work the audience would be reminded of tragedies on the stage and their typical plotlines of reversal, and thereby enable them to anticipate and understand how the historical stories of the agents would pan out. Familiarity often provides comfort and grounds for interpretation, and this is what Polybius was undoubtedly trying to achieve. Furthermore, the inclusion of vivid and tragic elements in his narrative

⁸¹ For further discussion of how these episodes contribute to Polybius’ construction of truth, see Nicholson (2018a) 187–207.

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would more easily have held the interest of his audience and would have allowed him to direct attention and sympathy towards specific moments. In showing that tragic elements were not only used in describing the Macedonian situation, however, these passages also call into question the argument recently advocated by Dreyer, who claims that the tragic mode of this episode was derived from a Macedonian court source.⁸² Each passage variously discusses the changing circumstances of the Aetolians, Philip, and the Rhodians, at different points within the narrative and it is unlikely that one Macedonian source could have provided a tragic telling of all of these events. Moreover, all three examples use the same basic phrasal formula (τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἀναβιβαζούσης ἐπὶ σκηνὴν (11.5.8 and 23.10.16) or τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἐπὶ τὴν ἐξώστραν ἀναβιβαζούσης (29.19.1–2)), which would suppose that they were all part of Polybius’ original text (see passages referencing tyche on the stage above). Although it is possible it may have been picked up from a source, this tragic element was very likely a literary device extended over the narrative by the historian’s own devising, and widely used to draw attention to moments of reversal and to create understanding and interest in the reader.

Tragedy, Education, and Political Morality This familiarity with the tragic/historical form would have arisen from youth in Greek education, within which the knowledge of myth, epic, and tragedy were essential elements.⁸³ This fact is explicitly acknowledged in a surviving Polybian passage in which Philip V talks to his sons about the importance of reading such works: ὅτι δεῖ μὴ μόνον ἀναγινώσκειν τὰς τραγῳδίας καὶ τοὺς μύθους καὶ τὰς ἱστορίας, ἀλλὰ καὶ γινώσκειν καὶ συνεφιστάνειν ἐπὶ τοῦτο τὸ μέρος. ἐν οἷς ἅπασιν ἔστιν ὁρᾶν, ὅσοι μὲν τῶν ἀδελφῶν εἰς τὴν πρὸς ἀλλήλους ὀργὴν καὶ φιλονικίαν ἐμπεσόντες ἐπὶ πολὺ προύβησαν, ἅπαντας τοὺς τοιούτους οὐ μόνον σφᾶς ἀπολωλεκότας, ἀλλὰ καὶ βίον καὶ τέκνα καὶ πόλεις ἄρδην κατεστραφότας, ὅσοι δὲ μετρίως ἐζήλωσαν τὸ στέργειν αὑτοὺς καὶ φέρειν τὰς ἀλλήλων ἀγνοίας, τούτους ἅπαντας σωτῆρας γεγονότας ὧν ἀρτίως εἶπον καὶ μετὰ τῆς καλλίστης φήμης καὶ δόξης βεβιωκότας. (23.11.1–3)

⁸² See Dreyer (2013a) 201–12. ⁸³ For the importance of myth, epic, and poetry in education see Aristoph. Frogs; Xen. Sym. 3.5; and Isocrates, Pan. 159. The prevalence of poetry in education is also illustrated by the criticisms of the genre in Plato (Rep. 10.606–8, Prot. 316d2–9, and Laws 653–5) and implicitly, as Croally points out, in Aristotle’s Poetics. For the use of tragedy as a method of teaching, see Heath (1987) 37–88 and Croally (2008) 55–70.

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It is necessary not only to read tragedies, myths and histories, but also to know and to give careful attention to this sort of role. In all of these forms it is possible to see that those brothers who fell into anger and contentiousness against each other and advanced their quarrel to great lengths, not only destroyed themselves in every such case, but also utterly ruined their lives children and cities; while those who competed moderately to love themselves and to bear each other’s errors, these were the saviours of the things that I have just mentioned [their lives, children, and cities], and lived with the finest reputation and honour.

Philip’s speech goes on to talk about the kings of Sparta and the superiority of their constitution when they listened to the ephors, and finally onto the contemporary example of the two Pergamene brothers Eumenes and Attalus, who increased the size and strength of their kingdom by working together in concord and respect (Plb. 23.11.4–8). However, this speech is likely to have been constructed with a good degree of artistic licence. Polybius’ source would probably have been an eyewitness account acquired from a Macedonian informant, perhaps from the court of Philip and Perseus, while in Rome with no reference to a written document.⁸⁴ Livy makes no record of any such speech given by Philip, only relating how the king refused to make a decision based on what each son had said in the short time of the debate, insisting on waiting upon further enquiries into their life and character (Livy 40.16). However, Polybius’ construction of the speech with its emphasis on the importance of tragedies, myths, and histories is not necessarily only an expression of his own views, and something similar may well have been understood and even mentioned by Philip himself. In his 1938 article, Walbank considered Polybius’ emphasis on morals to be troubling and inconsistent for a historian who was perceived by him to pursue truth and practicality. At this stage, Walbank’s later assessment of the ancient historian as a hard-nosed rationalist and Machiavellian, which became so pronounced in the 1960s following André Aymard’s argument for Polybius’ realist stance in 1940, had not yet been fully formed.⁸⁵ Yet, the roots of Walbank’s conception of Polybius as a man primarily interested in the rational and practical are plain to see in the discomfort and dissatisfaction expressed in his 1938 article in regard to Polybius’ moralistic treatment of Philip’s last years. Such an opinion, which held ground for half a decade, has greatly affected the reception of this episode ever since.

⁸⁴ For discussions of the Macedonian sources that Polybius may have used, see von Scala (1890) 269, Walbank (1938) 55–68 = (1985) 210–23, Pédech (1964) 131–4, and Dreyer (2013a) 201–12. ⁸⁵ Aymard (1940) 9–19. For Walbank’s similar assessment of Polybius, see Walbank (1965) 8 = (1985) 167–8, (1970) 304 = (2002) 103–4, (1974) 9–13, 23, 27–8, and (1972) 173, 178–81.

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However, this is not the only interpretation of the historian to have influenced scholarship, as there have been numerous supporters of Polybius’ moralistic aim from as early as the sixteenth century. Jean Bodin considered Polybius as much a philosopher as a historian,⁸⁶ and Christopher Watson praised the historian for his ‘wholesome counsels’.⁸⁷ Isaac Casaubon and John Dryden commented on Polybius’ virtuous behaviour and his commendation of everything plain, sincere, and good.⁸⁸ Later in the eighteenth century, John Adams thought Polybius to have been a man who considered life deeply and whose character was deserving of reverence.⁸⁹ In the nineteenth century, Friedrich Nietzsche saw the historian as a primary exponent of teaching by moralizing exemplars,⁹⁰ and Rudulf von Scala and Carl Wunderer asserted that Polybius considered traditional morality to be a crucial component of political behaviour.⁹¹ The perception of the historian as a rationalist and Machiavellian, advocated by Walbank, was once again refuted by Eckstein in 1995 when he convincingly revived the latter opinion that Polybius was interested in living by and teaching traditional morality, considering it essential for proper political behaviour. Hau reinforced Eckstein’s arguments in 2016 and even persuasively demonstrated that Polybius saw a strong practical importance to moral behaviour in politics and war, and both practical and moral concerns are a key part of his educational programme.⁹² The exploration of the blurred line between history and tragedy by Walbank in 1960, and the subsequent recognition of each genre’s recourse to a didactic function, makes Eckstein’s arguments for Polybius’ moralistic aim all the more compelling. Walbank himself even admitted in 2002 that this aspect of Polybius’ thought had been underestimated by some scholars, including himself.⁹³ In 1938 Walbank had been discomforted by Polybius’ explicit expression of moral purpose because his own conception of the historian at the time, and the artificial segregation of ancient historical and tragic writing by scholars at the time, could not match up or find consistency with these statements. Any perceived deviations from a rational approach therefore were then liable to accusations of inadequacy and feelings of dissatisfaction. New attitudes towards both the historian and the genres of historiography and tragedy, however, smooth out this discomfort and clarify Polybius’ reasoning and purpose, not only regarding his account of the last years of Philip but also his construction of his entire work. Polybius was not opposed to the use of tragic features within historiography; it was only when the inclusion of such features was excessive and caused a distortion of the truth or failed to recognize and point out the ever-important didactic feature of cause and ⁸⁶ Momigliano (1974) 132. ⁸⁷ Walbank (2010) 19. ⁸⁸ See the introduction to Casaubon (1609) and Dryden (1698). Cf. Momigliano (1980) 93, (1990) 47, and Pattison (2011) 221–9. ⁸⁹ See Chinard (1940) 43–4. ⁹⁰ Nietzsche (1874) 15. ⁹¹ Von Scala (1890) 5; Wunderer (1898) 15–18 and (1905) 30. ⁹² Hau (2016) 23–72. ⁹³ Walbank (2002) 14.

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effect, that he took issue. History, like tragedy, was meant to be educational, and truth and causation were especially important in fulfilling this function.

Philip as a Tragic Figure: Historical Implications In response to the change of direction in scholarly thought towards Polybius and the relationship between history and tragedy, it is now necessary to consider the ancient historian’s account of Philip’s last years from a different perspective. While Walbank’s complaints about historicity still ring true and have been expanded on, his concerns about the conspicuous tragic nuances and moral emphasis within the account and their subsequent devaluation of the text, should be taken as products of modern perception. Polybius was unlikely to have written an account of the last years of Philip, a character to whom he attributed great significance, not only in the course of history but also in his role as a didactic model, in a way which he would have considered undeserving or ill-fitting with the rest of his narrative of the king’s life. The end of Polybius’ account of Philip is the climax of a long career as well as (within the Histories) a long lesson, and we might expect this finale to be somewhat more emphatic and dramatic than usual. It was once noted by Walbank that the whole of Philip’s life, without interference, already held all the necessary components of a tragic tale; a convenient feature which did not go unnoticed by our ancient historian, who built on these ‘basic facts’ a superstructure of tragedy.⁹⁴ He uses the definition of a tragic hero and plot put forward by Aristotle to support this statement: ‘a man who is not eminently good and just, nor one who has fallen into misfortune by vice or depravity, but by some error. He must be highly renowned and successful—a personage like Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men of such families’ (Arist. Poet. 13.3, 1453a8–10).⁹⁵ The plot must also have a single result and change from good to bad fortune, and not because of villainy, but because of some great flaw in the hero (13.3, 1453a10–16). Philip certainly fits this model. He is a renowned and prosperous figure from a family of kings and according to Polybius naturally prone to good qualities (10.26). He then changes from a brilliant young king into a treacherous tyrant (5.10, 7.11–13), not, Polybius claims, through any innate viciousness but through a weakness of character that Demetrius of Pharus takes advantage of in 217  (5.102.1). Philip’s defects then increase with age (10.26)

⁹⁴ Walbank (1938) 55–64 = (1985) 210–19. ⁹⁵ Arist. Poet. 13.3, 1453a8–16: ἔστι δὲ τοιοῦτος ὁ μήτε ἀρετῇ διαφέρων καὶ δικαιοσύνῃ μήτε διὰ κακίαν καὶ μοχθηρίαν μεταβάλλων εἰς τὴν δυστυχίαν ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἁμαρτίαν τινά, τῶν ἐν μεγάλῃ δόξῃ ὄντων καὶ εὐτυχίᾳ, οἷον Οἰδίπους καὶ Θυέστης καὶ οἱ ἐκ τῶν τοιούτων γενῶν ἐπιφανεῖς ἄνδρες. ἀνάγκη ἄρα τὸν καλῶς ἔχοντα μῦθον ἁπλοῦν εἶναι μᾶλλον ἢδιπλοῦν, ὥσπερ τινές φασι, καὶ μεταβάλλειν οὐκ εἰς εὐτυχίαν ἐκ δυστυχίας ἀλλὰ τοὐναντίον ἐξ εὐτυχίας εἰς δυστυχίανμὴ διὰ μοχθηρίαν ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἁμαρτίαν μεγάλην ἢ οἵου εἴρηται ἢ βελτίονος μᾶλλον ἢ χείρονος.

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exacerbated by his frequent successes and ambitions and turn him nearly barbaric. Even though he recovers himself and turns to kingly and generous conduct after his defeat, Philip returns to self-interested, murderous, and unrestrained barbarous conduct. Furthermore, the events of the king’s life could, as Walbank suggested, constitute the best kind of tragic plot. Aristotle states this to be when events come on by surprise and the effect is heightened at the same time when they follow as cause and effect (Arist. Poet. 9.11–12, 1452a1–11). There is considerable surprise, for example, in the king’s defeat at Cynoscephalae in 197 . Philip was renowned for his military skill and competence and had been successful in securing the Peloponnese, Macedonia, Thrace, and now new territory in the Aegean. But, unexpectedly, he is weakened in the Second Macedonian War and ultimately unable to withstand Roman might. Despite correcting his mistakes and withstanding a loss in fortune, Roman power means that he is restricted in his ability to expand and his bitterness directs him to a policy of destruction, a war of revenge against Rome. In this, his reputation among his Macedonian subjects is compromised when he attempts to strengthen his kingdom by the transference of peoples between Macedonia and the Thracian coast, his association with barbarians, and his assassination of leading Macedonians with questionable loyalty. Finally, the dispatch of his son Demetrius to Rome to alleviate the situation between the Italian power and Macedon ends with the execution of his son in 181 for suspected Roman sympathies and treason. The unexpectedness of this outcome is expressly brought out by Polybius at 23.3, where it is even suggested that Demetrius’ embassy contributed to Philip’s misfortunes. The whole of Philip’s life as it is recorded in the Histories, therefore, seems to fit roughly into a tragic plotline, full of unexpected outcomes and reversals of fortune. However, it would be going too far to say that Polybius wrote about the whole of Philip’s life in a tragic manner; this would severely compromise his arguments against the use of sensational imagery, as he himself would then have produced a narrative moulded around a framework which explicitly uses such a device. Moreover, his manipulation of more complicated historical events into a simplified tragic plot would produce inaccuracies, which he was particularly against. While the line between history and tragedy may have been blurred in ancient historiography, Polybius was distinctly on the side of history and any tragic elements in the Histories would only work to enforce his historical agenda. This is apparent in that it is only the series of events starting with the quarrel between Philip’s sons at 23.10 and ending with the king’s death that Polybius moulds into such a tragic unit.⁹⁶ This being when Philip suffered personally from

⁹⁶ Walbank (1938) 55–6 = (1985) 211. Here Walbank once again refers to Aristotle’s Poetics, citing his dictum that the plot of a tragedy need not necessarily deal with the whole life of a hero, but only a single set of events forming a tragedy (Poet. 8.1–2, 1451a15). Cf. Burton (2017) 47–54 for the tragic framing of this Antigonid domestic conflict.

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the wrath of his people, when he lost control of the situation with Rome, and when the royal house of Macedon was ripped apart by internal strife. Such a framework would have been particularly useful for the historian at this stage in his depiction of Philip’s life as his readers’ general familiarity with tragic plots would have alerted them beforehand to the likely outcome of events and the fate of the king (as well as of course some familiarity with the demise of the Macedonian monarchy). The use of anticipatory expectation, combined with the unexpectedness of the disasters which struck the royal house and the tragic language used in the narrative, would not only pique interest in the highlighted passage, but also draw attention to the lessons that Polybius wanted his readers to pick up.⁹⁷ The educational quality of tragedy helps to enforce the historian’s didactic purpose and make the final result of Philip’s life and the political message he wanted to impart even more emphatic, vivid, and memorable. A tragic mode is used, therefore, in the construction of Philip’s final years to increase the interest, effectiveness, and intensity of his lessons concerning cause and effect, as well as political behaviour. In his article discussing Polybius’ use of ‘tragic patterning’ in the account of Agathocles at Alexandria, Johstono persuasively argues that Polybius styled his narrative in this way to stress that, despite earlier accounts emphasizing the qualities of good leadership exhibited in this episode, Agathocles’ career had no didactic value in it and it therefore becomes a parable first, a historical account second.⁹⁸ In a similar vein, Polybius’ portrayal of Philip, and not just his end but the whole course of his life, represents such a warning and tale of caution. We should not, however, constrain our understanding of Polybius’ literary working to the inclusion of tragic elements alone, as other literary genres also overlapped with and influenced Polybius’ historiographical method. As Marincola has pointed out, the invocation of emotions was as much an important element of tragedy as it was rhetoric and oratory.⁹⁹ However, while the emotions of tragedy, he claims, tended towards fear and pity, those of rhetoric leant towards a larger range, in particular anger and pity. Both rhetoric and historiography aimed to persuade the audience to a certain point of view, so it is not surprising that they also shared similar features. While Polybius refers to tragic paraphernalia in the last years of Philip, the emotions he invokes, anger and pity, are those more associated with rhetoric and more inclined to persuasion.¹⁰⁰ In his polemic against Phylarchus, Polybius unambiguously states that the purpose of history is to teach and persuade (2.56.11), and at the end of Philip’s life he is able to do so brilliantly with a mixture of tragedy and rhetoric. Moreover, Polybius’ problem ⁹⁷ See Miltsios (2009) 481–506 for Polybius’ use of the expectation of anticipation in the story of Achaeus’ capture by Antiochus. ⁹⁸ Johstono (2017), esp. 15–17. ⁹⁹ Marincola (2003) 290–2, 300–1. See also Arist. Rhet. ii.1, 1378a19–22. ¹⁰⁰ See Thornton (2020b), in particular, for the political and rhetorical nature of the Histories.

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with Phylarchus was not necessarily that he presented his account in a tragic way, but that he did so the whole time (ποιεῖ δὲ τοῦτο παρ’ ὅλην τὴν ἱστορίαν, πειρώμενος ἐν ἑκάστοις ἀεὶ πρὸ ὀφθαλμῶν τιθέναι τὰ δεινα 2.56.8). Polybius’ use of a tragic mode, however, has some serious historical implications for the picture of Philip. While the historian’s account of the king’s policies in these later years is unlikely to be fictional, the interpretation of them (whether they were beneficial or not and the emphasis on certain features) will have been affected by this tragic imagery. In this case, we should be especially cautious of the extreme reaction that Philip’s policy of transmigration and his assassination of certain Macedonian families provoked. Undoubtedly these events caused distress for the people affected, but the emphasis on the suffering of Philip’s people, their cries to the gods and curses against the king, enhances the villainy of Philip and tarnishes his image further in the eyes of the reader. By this emphasis, the king is again proven to be treacherous and ruthless in his actions, but this time against his own people; a feat which would have been considered even worse than the cruelty he had displayed towards the Greeks. Furthermore, Polybius seems to ignore the benefits these policies would have produced for Philip and the kingdom. This may, of course, be the fault of the fragmentary nature of the tradition rather than the historian himself; yet the inclusion of a discussion considering the practical reasons for such actions would equally ruin the dramatic effect that Polybius was creating at this juncture. Such an omission is itself not so unusual for the historian’s treatment of Philip—his earlier accounts of Thermum and Messene reveal a similar exclusion of practical considerations in favour of moral ones.¹⁰¹ These unpopular policies were part of the king’s preparations, begun in 186 , to ensure the security and recovery of the Macedonian kingdom. They aimed at the reorganization and consolidation of territories, the replenishing of its depleted population after thirty years of warfare, the weeding out of dissidence, and the improving of its financial status.¹⁰² The last was achieved by an increase in the revenue from agricultural produce and harbour dues (Livy 39.24.2), the sinking of new mines and the reopening of old ones, and finally the minting of large issues of coinage.¹⁰³ His transference of populations from the Macedonian coastal cities to Paeonia, and the introduction of Thracians and other tribes into these Macedonian towns, was part of this process of recovery. By moving his

¹⁰¹ See Johstono (2017) 12–15 for further examples of Polybius obscuring the political-military narrative. ¹⁰² Walbank (1940) 224, 265; Hammond (1972) 458–72. ¹⁰³ Coinage was minted by the royal mint, the Macedonian people, and also individual Macedonian cities, such as Amphipolis, Aphytis in Chalcidice, Apollonia in Mygdonis, Pella, and Thessalonica. This last concession represents a political readjustment between the centralized authority of king and the local units which had been absorbed into Macedonia. For the evidence, see Gaebler (1897) 169–92, (1926) 111–16 and 183–98; Perdrizet (1903) 320–5; Mamroth (1930) 207–303, (1935) 219–51; Prokopov (2012); Kremydi (2018); and Panagopoulou (2021). For discussion, see also Hammond (1972) 460–8, and Mørkholm (1991) 163–71. Cf. Roisman & Worthington (2011) 494–5.

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Macedonian subjects, he not only consolidated his defence against the Dardanians in the north, but also removed a dangerous section of political opposition which resisted Philip’s policy in Thrace and his resistance to Rome (Plb. 23.10.4).¹⁰⁴ The king’s reputation and credibility among the Macedonians had probably plummeted after his losses against Rome as he could no longer stand strong as a militarily successful ruler. His plans of recovery may also have been severely questioned. The increase in harbour dues no doubt caused discontent in these coastal towns and their forced migration to Paeonia would have brought about even more ill-will. Philip’s assassination of a group of Macedonian nobles— notably Admetus, Pyrrhichus, and the king’s own foster-brother, Samos son of Chrysogonus¹⁰⁵—and the imprisonment of their children later in 183, reflects this growing hostility toward the above-mentioned measures and possibly the Antigonid policy toward Rome. His actions, while certainly heavy-handed and ruthless, would have removed direct threats to Philip himself within his own kingdom.¹⁰⁶ By moving Thracians (originally as mercenaries) into these coastal cities, Philip was replacing his unfaithful subjects with more dependable ones as well as replenishing the population, and therefore the military strength, of Macedon itself (Plb. 23.10.4; Livy 39.24.4).¹⁰⁷ Given the fragmentary nature of the sources it is hard to tell how successful these unpopular policies ultimately were. However, it is apparent from the record as it survives in Polybius and Livy that such was the security of the Macedonian kingdom at Philip’s death that Perseus was able to succeed with no apparent difficulty from within his kingdom, to expand northwards into Thrace without having to worry internally or externally about his own country, and to assemble a sizeable army from the increased population and ties of alliance in Thrace. He was strong enough to pose a threat to Roman power eight years later in 171 . Of course, Perseus’ own actions at the start of his reign would also have contributed to his smooth succession. In 179 , he called back to Macedonia all fugitive debtors and exiles, either by sentence of the court or for offences to Philip, promising safety to the returned and the recovery of their property. Similarly, those in debt or imprisoned in Macedonia were released and pardoned (Plb. 25.3). These actions would have endeared Perseus to his subjects as a new king breaking away from the discontent of the last years of his father’s reign. Yet, he

¹⁰⁴ Walbank (1940/1960) 244 and n. 4. Cassandreia for example was constantly hostile to Antigonid rule (Tarn (1913) 186 n. 82), and Theoxena’s family mentioned in Livy 40.40.4 came from Thessalonica. ¹⁰⁵ This was the Samos whose famous line was inscribed on the walls at Thermum in 218  (Plb. 5.9.4). His death is mentioned by Plut. Mor. 53 E. See p. 63 n. 14 of this volume for further details and scholarship. ¹⁰⁶ Walbank (1940) 245 suggests that these executions alongside the hostility towards Philip infer the presence of a conspiracy, an inference which seems likely. However, Walbank’s additional point that this probably had the aim to remove Philip and replace him with Demetrius is speculative. ¹⁰⁷ Griffith (1935) 73, 77–8; Walbank (1940) 242–5.

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still proceeded along the same lines in terms of policy as his father, restoring the strength of his country with an eye on military conquest and an eye on Rome. Without Philip’s preparations Perseus could not have sufficiently increased the population of Macedon enough within that eight-year period to be militarily significant in the Mediterranean once again, nor acquired enough wealth or financial stability to pay for the army and its mercenaries. The policies put into place by Philip from 187  started this process and contributed to this increase in strength and security in Macedon. Polybius, however, it seems submerges the benefits and reasonableness of Philip’s policies and actions to bring out moral concerns, as he does at other moments in the king’s life. This will partly be due to his narrative design and agenda which constantly foreshadowed the downfall of the king and aimed to provide an explanation for the destruction of such a great figure, as well as no doubt partially based on the evidence provided by the sources he used (to a large extent probably eyewitness accounts from the Macedonian court). In addition to inspiring contempt for the king in the eyes of the readers, however, there may also be a case to suggest that the emotional and vivid depiction of Philip’s last years was also created to stir up sympathy for the king. He was after all a powerful and successful Hellenistic ruler, who had countered expectation and overcome adversity in his early years, built up the strength, reputation, and influence of the Macedonian kingdom in the Greek world, and met with reasonably swift success in his pursuit of conquest and expansion. As was deemed appropriate for a Macedonian king, he had large ambitions, was a brilliant military commander, and seemed to be following in the famous footsteps of Philip II and Alexander the Great (cf. 22.18.10). All of this changed, however, perhaps rather unexpectedly, at the height of his success. He was heavily defeated by a relatively new player in the Greek east, Rome, considered more alien and perhaps more brutal at this time than the Macedonians. The contact and conflict with this new player left Philip forced to curtail his ambitions and give up many of his recent conquests. Furthermore, in his attempts to recoup his losses and strengthen himself and the kingdom militarily and financially, his policies eventually turned his own people against him, inspiring sedition and conspiracy. To top off this misfortune, Philip’s house is damaged at the same time by the violent rivalry between his own sons and he is eventually forced to execute the younger, Demetrius, and consequently remove the one person who had placated Roman anger in the past. Despite his best efforts, therefore, with the addition of this new power on the scene complicating matters further, Philip gradually loses more and more control of the situation. Surely, the downfall of such a successful and promising king, for reasons beyond his control and beyond his best efforts, would also elicit pity and sympathy from some of the readers. The effect of this tragic mode used at the end of Philip’s life has serious historical implications. Perhaps these are more severe for modern scholars than

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ancient readers who would also have had access to Polybius’ full narrative; however, we may still get a glimpse of how Polybius has styled the king’s ending and therefore understand to a greater extent how this fits into his overarching image of the king. As it stands, the tragic depiction increases the intensity of the episode, drawing Philip’s life, a long-standing case study in political and moral behaviour, to a climactic end. As a particularly dangerous enemy to Rome and much of the Greek world, the end of such a prominent figure is necessary and appropriate. This view of Philip encourages us to see him more as a failure; we are discouraged from considering him in more reasonable terms. Moreover, by emphasizing the ruthlessness of Philip’s actions, the suffering of those associated with him, and his growing madness and lack of control, Polybius arouses vivid anger and pity in the audience. This furthers his aim to discredit Philip, to defend the actions of those who defected from him, and to enforce the consequences of immoral behaviour.

Conclusion The last surviving passage of Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years (23.10) is far more important, satisfactory, and consistent than Walbank allowed in 1938. He found Polybius’ inclusion of tragic features and moral focus in contradiction with the historian’s earlier statements and usual style. Yet, the use of a tragic style was not itself abhorrent in Polybius’ conception of good historiography; the issue was rather the extent to which it distorted the truth. Moreover, Polybius would not have concluded the life of this central figure in a way which he saw unsuitable for his own designs, even if he was informed by particularly negative sources; his construction of the king in fact appears to have been reasonably consistent and coherent. Considering his statements on the need to know the end of affairs in order to understand their beginnings, it can only have been Polybius’ intention all along to approach the end of Philip’s life in this vivid and dramatic way. His interpretation of the entirety of the king’s life will have been informed by how he understood and felt he could explain the information he got from his sources about Philip’s demise. Polybius’ use of a tragic mode at the end of his narrative of the king’s life is a literary device which enables him to inspire more effectively the desired impression of the king in the minds of his readers. He solidifies in the final moments, with heightened drama, the hostility and ill-will of the audience towards Philip for the treatment of his people, he encourages sympathy for those who suffered and were associated with him, and even inspires pity for the king himself and for his fate. This tragic styling also enabled the historian to push his didactic aim further: to impart what he considered a lesson on proper political and moral behaviour; the consequences of treachery and ruthlessness; the sharp reversals of fortune that

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often come to those who find success quickly, even among the powerful; and the need for constant careful planning and contingency to weather the volatile nature of fortune. Now that we have come to the end of Polybius’ account of Philip’s life, it would be advantageous to take a step back from the minutiae of the king’s image and consider how his whole portrait functions in the wider context of the Histories.

6 Woven History, Woven Lives This book has picked apart Polybius’ narrative and commentary on Philip V at a number of crucial character-defining occasions and revealed that the overarching interpretation of the king has been somewhat overemphasized and simplified to offer a specific political and didactic message in the context of his Histories. Yet, this does not mean that Polybius’ account of Philip itself is wholly inaccurate, or that Polybius is a bad historian or narrator—his narrative more or less supports his interpretation if considered from a certain point of view and we have, after all, had to work quite hard to see through his rhetoric. As Polybius intended, his narrative and commentary work together to produce, through a process of show and tell, a singular and long-lasting impression of a prominent life gone wrong; of a brilliant and morally upright young monarch who falls into tyrannical and barbaric behaviour following bad advice and success, and who is punished for his crimes against the Greek world with defeat and the eventual destruction of his kingdom by tyche and Rome. The previous chapter on the tragic mode of Philip’s last years also reinforces this singular impression. It outlines how this tragic styling was used because Polybius must have considered it an appropriate method of ending Philip’s overarching downward spiral into tyranny and madness. This tragic mode made sense in consolidating Polybius’ overall interpretation of the king’s life. Yet, it has become clear that this singular interpretation offered by Polybius’ commentary has been somewhat imposed on his narrative of events which does not always fall neatly into one clean impression of a life and career. This tension is, however, as shall be argued here, the result of Polybius’ attempt to use biographical means of presentation in a larger historical work which aims to produce a complex ‘universal’ treatise focused on politics and the education of the reader. Polybius believed that a ‘universal’ or ‘general’ approach (1.4.2: ἡ τῶν καθόλου πραγμάτων σύνταξις; 5.33.2: τὰ καθόλου γράφειν) to history was needed to allow the reader to understand how the whole oikoumene, as well as all its constituent parts, got to the state of being dominated by Rome.¹ These constituent parts include not only different geographical regions but also historical agents—states, peoples, and individuals. Furthermore, this ‘universal’ history was also a political one, and politics is about people. It would therefore be impossible to have a

¹ See the Introduction, pp. 21–22 and n. 72, for Polybius and ‘universal’ history.

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0007

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detailed and coherent political history without some form of focus on politically active individuals. It was also a history with a prominent didactic purpose and founded on understanding cause and effect (cf. 3.7.4–7). While the larger and impersonal forces of constitutions and tyche are part of the causal network determining the course of history (cf. Book 6 for the former and 36.17.1–3, 12–15 for the latter), individuals are the driving force and initiators of actions and events (cf. 36.17.4–11; and 3.6.7 where every matter is based on, and informed by, human actions, reactions, and perception). Humans and their psychology and actions comprise the detail and minutiae of a larger picture. Therefore, to understand why the current political world came into being you had to understand the peoples and individuals who contributed to this development; what they did, how and why they did it, and the consequences of their actions.² Moreover, to learn how to act within the wider political world yourself, you needed to be able to evaluate individuals and their conduct (cf. 3.81.1–12 on the importance of gaining knowledge of an opponent’s principles and character), and this required at least some biographical information.³ Polybius’ ‘universal’, pragmatic, didactic, and apodeictic approach to history raises the importance of setting out details about a political person’s life, and biographical detail, therefore, becomes a crucial component of his historical approach. Ancient historiography and biography were closely related genres, each exhibiting a number of common features, including being written in prose, focusing on individuals, the use of similar source material, the inclusion of speeches, comparable methods of characterization and setting, and similar audiences.⁴ Political biography also, for instance, contained historical narrative and upheld a preference for truth.⁵ Yet, despite overlapping generic features, tensions between their overarching goals and methodologies meant that any attempt to draw historiographical and biographic methods together required a compromise.⁶ While a definition of ancient biography is difficult to pin down due to the genre’s diversity ² For Polybius’ interest in human psychology see Pédech (1964) 204–53; Derow (1994) 84–90; Eckstein (1995b) 237–71; Hahm (2009) 192; and Longley (2012) 68–84. For perception and decisionmaking, see also Davidson (1991) 10–24 and Hau (2018) 103–13. ³ Plb. 3.81.1: . . . οὐ γὰρ εἰκὸς ἄλλως εἰπεῖν, ὡς εἴ τις οἴεται κυριώτερόν τι μέρος εἶναι στρατηγίας τοῦ γνῶναι τὴν προαίρεσιν καὶ φύσιν τοῦ τῶν ἐναντίων ἡγεμόνος, ἀγνοεῖ καὶ τετύφωται . . . . for it would be unreasonable to say otherwise, that if someone thinks anything more important to generals than the knowledge of the principles and character of their opponent, he is ignorant and deluded. ⁴ For the close relationship between history and political biography, see e.g. Wardman (1974) 1, who claims that Plutarch’s Lives, for instance, are ‘an offshoot of ancient historiography’; Geiger (1985) 9–29; Momigliano (1993) 6, 12; Pelling (2002) 147 who asserts Plutarchean biography and historiography to be ‘cousins’; Hägg (2012) 3, 16; Stadter (2007) 528–40; and Adams (2020) 19–31 for the dominant position of history in ancient generic traditions and their overlapping features. ⁵ Plutarch, for instance, devoted a greater proportion of his Parallel Lives to historical narrative than to anecdotes or other means of characterization (Wardman (1974) 1–10, 154–61; cf. Hägg (2012) 269–70), and was unexpectedly truthful and did not tend to fabricate material, although he would push his interpretations as far as possible (Pelling (2002) 147–53). Polybius, of course, does this too. ⁶ For the differences between history and biography, see Hägg (2012) 97, 273 and Adams (2020) 21–8.

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and the lack of a defined methodology in ancient sources, in general terms it aimed to produce a detailed and coherent account of a life, placing man and character at the centre of the work, and creating a sense of unity by selectivity of information, imaginative embroidery where detail was lacking, and flexibility of timeline.⁷ Plutarch, for instance, is famous for being less concerned about offering his readers a detailed narrative of all historical events in a person’s life (cf. Plut. Alex. 1.1–2), and sometimes implemented considerable chronological compression and displacement.⁸ Ancient historiography, on the other hand, and certainly Polybius’ conception of historiography, aimed to record how the present resulted from the past in as truthful and detailed a manner as possible, focusing on the overall progression of political and military affairs via human and non-human forces as opposed to character, and paying careful attention to chronology, topography, and cause and effect. Moreover, ancient historiography aimed to create a sense of thoroughness through the inclusion of a much larger and sometimes conflicting body of information which might compromise a singular interpretation of a life and the lessons that can be drawn from it. Finally, while both ancient historiography and biography had didactic aims, those writing lives usually professed to teach ethics, while historians practical, political, and military lessons. History does not, therefore, bring itself easily to the narrower perspective or explanation of a life and character that ancient biography demands, nor the elaboration of information and context often seen in biography, and rather prefers the acknowledgement of completeness, complexity, and plurality. This chapter intends to explore the tension between history and biography in Polybius’ portrait of Philip V by first investigating his views on the use of biographical material in historiography, its position in his history, and what this means for the historical image of the Macedonian king. As we will see, Polybius does not discredit biography per se, but rather calls for the understanding that such an approach should be part of a larger whole. The Histories not only weaves the different geographical regions of the oikoumene together, but also the lives of men, and particularly a number of ‘great men’, to illustrate how everything and everyone was connected in bringing about the rise of Rome. We will zoom out from the previous close examination of Philip and situate him in the wider context of the Histories, as Polybius always intended him to be viewed—as one great man among many. A comparison of Philip’s portrait with that of a selection of other ‘great men’ in the Histories, other kings as well as commanders, will then allow us to study Polybius’ portrait of Philip in the broader environment of the work. ⁷ For the difficulty of defining ancient biography, see e.g. McGing & Mossman (2006) x; Stadter (2007) 528; Hägg (2012) ix; Cairns and Luke (2018) vii; and De Temmerman (2020b) 6–12; for the problems of establishing a typology of ancient biography, see Adams (2013) 76–80. ⁸ Cf. Pelling (2002) 92–6, 152–3, and Hägg (2012) 268–9 argues that this passage (Plut. Alex. 1.2) has often been misunderstood and is more an excuse for summarizing or omitting historically important facts rather than an understanding of a sharp line between historiography and biography.

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Finally, we will consider Polybius’ divergence from fourth-century  writers who approached history from a ‘great man’ perspective to an approach that advocates seeing and understanding the ‘great man’ in the context of the whole known world.

Part 1: Polybius on Biographical Material in History It has been previously noted that there are certain biographical aspects to Polybius’ treatment of Philip V of Macedon and our investigation so far corroborates this view.⁹ The historian outlines the king’s life and career from his youth (from c.16 years old) to his death, demonstrates character and character development through direct and indirect commentary, anecdotes, and speech, draws conclusions about his motivations and psychological development, evaluates the king’s achievements, deeds, and words, offers praise and blame according to this assessment, and by this attempts to draw a coherent picture of the king’s life. Yet, that is not to say that the life and career of Philip V in Polybius is a biography (bios) in a simple straightforward sense, since it is not a singular piece of work about the king nor even a singular self-contained episode in the Histories, but a narrative interwoven with the lives and actions of other men, events, and forces. Moreover, chronology is perceived as crucially important to understanding Philip’s development, and while there is an overarching direction to the king’s life from good to bad, there is also recognition of complexity: Philip is shown to demonstrate some bad behaviour in his good years, and some good behaviour in his bad years. The king is not reduced to a simple stereotype. Furthermore, Polybius never claimed to be writing biography and even disparages Theopompus for turning his history of Greece into ‘the pompous biography of a king’, that of Philip II (Plb. 8.11.5: μονάρχου πρόσχημα καὶ βίον). What Polybius thought a bios entailed is never expanded upon, at least in the surviving portions of his work, and he only offers a discussion of the differences between encomium and historiography in Book 10 after explaining that he also wrote an earlier encomiastic work (λόγος ἐγκωμιατικὸς) on Philopoemen in three books, now unfortunately lost (10.21.5–7).¹⁰ It is possible that ‘biography’ as a distinct and separate genre with a defined methodology was not yet recognized, which may explain this omission, although it has also been posited that this absence ⁹ Farrington (2011) 332–3 and Dreyer (2013b) 235 have also observed this quality in this portrait. ¹⁰ This monograph on Philopoemen has often been called a biography or an encomiastic biography, but there is now consensus that Polybius defines this earlier work strictly as an encomium, an argument recently fortified by Schorn (2014) 137–64, who has pointed out that Polybius’ distinction between the genres relies on Isocrates’ theory of the encomium as it is developed in his Evagoras (see also Alexiou (2018) 241–55). For the encomiastic nature of Polybius’ monograph on Philopoemen, see Geiger (1985) 35–6; Fortenbaugh (2007) 60–71; Schepens (2007) 335–61; Farrington (2011) 325–9; and Tsakmakis (2018) 257. Stadter (2007) 530–1 sees it more as a political biography than encomium.

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might merely be the result of the dominance of history as a genre at the time.¹¹ Yet, despite these difficulties, as Tsakmakis has recently argued, ‘the partial thematic overlapping between encomium, historiography and biography, and the fact that Polybius does not devote a separate discussion to biography as a genre, neither minimizes a priori the importance of biographical elements in his work, nor anticipates that their function and importance is exhausted in the suggestion of praise and blame’.¹² Even though Polybius criticizes Theopompus for refocusing his history of Greece on Philip II, this does not mean that he thought the use of biographical material or biographical modes of presentation in history inappropriate. We may note the famous passage in Book 10 of his Histories, when Polybius is about to recount Philopoemen’s achievements and outlines that biographical material is in fact beneficial for the education of the reader of history: τοῦ δὲ καιροῦ τοῦ κατὰ τὴν διήγησιν ἐφεστακότος ἡμᾶς ἐπὶ τὴν ἀρχὴν τῶν Φιλοποίμενος πράξεων, καθήκειν ἡγούμεθα, καθάπερ καὶ περὶ τῶν ἄλλων τῶν ἀξιολόγων ἀνδρῶν τὰς ἑκάστων ἀγωγὰς καὶ φύσεις ἐπειράθημεν ὑποδεικνύναι, καὶ περὶ τούτου ποιῆσαι τὸ παραπλήσιον. καὶ γὰρ ἄτοπον τὰς μὲν τῶν πόλεων κτίσεις τοὺς συγγραφέας, καὶ πότε καὶ πῶς καὶ διὰ τίνων ἐκτίσθησαν, ἔτι δὲ τὰς διαθέσεις καὶ περιστάσεις μετ᾽ ἀποδείξεως ἐξαγγέλλειν, τὰς δὲ τῶν τὰ ὅλα χειρισάντων ἀνδρῶν ἀγωγὰς καὶ ζήλους παρασιωπᾶν, καὶ ταῦτα τῆς χρείας μεγάλην ἐχούσης τὴν διαφοράν: ὅσῳ γὰρ ἄν τις καὶ ζηλῶσαι καὶ μιμήσασθαι δυνηθείη μᾶλλον τοὺς ἐμψύχους ἄνδρας τῶν ἀψύχων κατασκευασμάτων, τοσούτῳ καὶ τὸν περὶ αὐτῶν λόγον διαφέρειν εἰκὸς πρὸς ἐπανόρθωσιν τῶν ἀκουόντων. (Plb. 10.21.2–4) Now that the course of my narrative has brought me to the beginning of the achievements of Philopoemen, I consider it my duty, just as in the case of other important men where I have tried to indicate their training and character, to do the same for him. For it is a strange thing that authors should narrate the foundations of cities, telling us when, how, and by whom they were founded, and reporting the conditions and difficulties of the undertaking by examination, while they pass over in silence the training and ambitions of the men who managed the whole matter, though such information is of great profit. For inasmuch as a person would be more able to emulate and imitate living men than lifeless buildings, so much more would consideration of these details make a difference to the improvement of the readers.¹³ ¹¹ Farrington (2011) 328–9. See Adams (2020) 23–4, 26–7 for the dominance of history as a prose genre over biography. ¹² Tsakmakis (2018) 257. ¹³ Polybius’ comments fall in line with Isocrates’ statements at Evagoras 75: while ‘no one can make his bodily nature resemble sculpture or paintings, it is easy to imitate the characters of others and their intentions, as represented in language’ (ὅτι τοῖς μὲν πεπλασμένοις καὶ τοῖς γεγραμμένοις οὐδεὶς ἂν τὴν

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Polybius reminds his readers that he has been offering biographical information for other prominent men throughout his work and therefore suggests that he thinks this kind of biographical material about training and character appropriate in a historical treatise, particularly one which aims to educate its readers in how to conduct themselves in the political sphere (cf. 1.1.1–2).¹⁴ This is supported when, immediately after the above statement, he explains that had he not already written about Philopoemen’s family, early education and ambitions, and famous achievements in depth in a separate work (his encomium; 10.21.8, ἐγκωμιαστικός), he would be compelled to give an account of these matters here (10.21.5: εἰ μὲν οὖν μὴ κατ᾽ ἰδίαν ἐπεποιήμεθα τὴν περὶ αὐτοῦ σύνταξιν, ἐν ᾗ διεσαφοῦμεν καὶ τίς ἦν καὶ τίνων καὶ τίσιν ἀγωγαῖς ἐχρήσατο νέος ὤν, ἀναγκαῖον ἦν ὑπὲρ ἑκάστου τῶν προειρημένων φέρειν ἀπολογισμόν).¹⁵ Yet, the impression we might get from Polybius’ last statement (10.21.5) is that he was primarily concerned with not repeating himself and not the type of information itself (a similar aversion to repetition is seen in his summary treatment of Aratus’ government, 2.40.4). However, his following assertions indicate that there was more to it than that and he was aware of, and adhered to, a difference in the way that encomium and historiography dealt with biographical material. In the next line, he notes that as he has already treated the aspects of Philopoemen’s youthful education and ambitions in three books elsewhere, the proper course is to omit details of them in his present historical work and instead to add detail to his earlier summary account of Philopoemen’s achievements in his later years so that the proper character of each work may be preserved (10.21.6–7).¹⁶ It is not only about repetition, but also about the proper mode

τοῦ σώματος φύσιν ὁμοιώσειε, τοὺς δὲ τρόπους τοὺς ἀλλήλων καὶ τὰς διανοίας τὰς ἐν τοῖς λεγομένοις ἐνούσας ῥᾴδιόν ἐστι μιμεῖσθαι). There is also an element of similarity between the two regarding the use of style in imparting the lesson: Isocrates stated that an encomium is written to provide instruction in virtue and that rhetorical flourishes are essential to this project. Moving speech, he claimed, excites the sentiments of readers, and emotional engagement, either admiration or contempt, motivates readers to emulate virtue and scorn vice (Isoc. Evagoras 10, 73, 76–7, 80; cf. Hedrick (2009) 421). Polybius seems to subscribe to this view in certain cases as we saw in the previous chapters: his rhetorical invectives against Philip’s actions at Thermum and Messene, Philip’s pact with Antiochus III, and most of all the tragic tones in which he described Philip’s end. Rhetorical flourishes and tragic inflections were, therefore, used to assist the didactic intent of Philip’s portrait. While eschewing sensationalism and falsehood, Polybius clearly thought, therefore, that a historian could couch at least some of his portrayal of individuals in evocative language. How he differed from Isocrates in this regard was that he considered truth, correct proportion, and cause and effect to be more of a priority than rhetorical and literary embellishment. For Isocrates’ Evagoras, see Hägg (2012) 30–41 and Poulakos (2020) 101–9. ¹⁴ Cf. Hägg (2012) 96–7; contra Momigliano (1993) 1. ¹⁵ Cf. Pelling (1990) 217–20 for the limited detailed information on childhood and education in ancient political biography and the frequent use of generalized statements about achievement and excellence. ¹⁶ Plb. 10.21.6–7: ἐπεὶ δὲ πρότερον ἐν τρισὶ βυβλίοις ἐκτὸς ταύτης τῆς συντάξεως τὸν ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ πεποιήμεθα λόγον, τήν τε παιδικὴν ἀγωγὴν διασαφοῦντες καὶ τὰς ἐπιφανεστάτας πράξεις, δῆλον ὡς ἐν τῇ νῦν ἐξηγήσει πρέπον ἂν εἴη τῆς μὲν νεωτερικῆς ἀγωγῆς καὶ τῶν νεωτερικῶν ζήλων κατὰ μέρος ἀφελεῖν, τοῖς δὲ κατὰ τὴν ἀκμὴν αὐτοῦ κεφαλαιωδῶς ἐκεῖ δεδηλωμένοις ἔργοις προσθεῖναι καὶ κατὰ μέρος, ἵνα τὸ πρέπον ἑκατέρᾳ τῶν συντάξεων τηρῶμεν.

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(τὸ πρέπον) of encomium and historiography. ‘Just as that former work, being an encomium’, he then claims, ‘demands a summary and somewhat exaggerated account of achievements, so this work of history, being concerned equally with praise and blame, seeks a truthful account and one which outlines with proofs the reasons for praise or blame’ (10.21.8; FGrHist 173).¹⁷ The latter preserves truth and outlines reasons and causes of events, and thereby produces an account of educational benefit to the reader. For Polybius, therefore, what mattered in differentiating encomium and historiography was the comprehensiveness and purpose for which such biographical details were included, not the presence of biographical material itself.¹⁸ Such material was still considered vitally important for the educational value of historiography, it just needed to be presented in the correct manner to meet the demands of the genre. The effect of historiography was equally meant to be different to that of encomium, and therefore the function of biographical material in history had a slightly different form. As Farrington outlined in an article on Polybius’ position between encomium and historiography in 2011, while both genres had moralistic aims, history’s moralism concerning the individual was meant to be proleptic and descriptive, while encomium’s was purely proleptic. For Polybius, encomium was amplificatory and focused on praise alone, inspiring temporary awe and a desire to emulate an individual. History was demonstrative (cf. apodeictic), objective, and drew on praise and blame equally to educate the reader with lasting effect by outlining why certain behaviours are good or bad.¹⁹ In his analysis, Farrington notes that Polybius’ account of Philip V is a clear example of his treatment of ¹⁷ Plb. 10.21.8: ὥσπερ γὰρ ἐκεῖνος ὁ τόπος, ὐπάρχων ἐγκωμιαστικός, ἀπῄτει τὸν κεφαλαιώδη καὶ μετ᾽ αὐξήσεως τῶν πράξεων ἀπολογισμόν, οὕτως ὁ τῆς ἱστορίας, κοινὸς ὢν ἐπαίνου καὶ ψόγου, ζητεῖ τὸν ἀληθῆ καὶ τὸν μετ᾽ ἀποδείξεως καὶ τῶν ἑκάστοις παρεπομένων συλλογισμῶν. Cf. Hägg (2012) 97. ¹⁸ Such a view falls in line also with Xenophon’s approach, who recorded the Spartan king Agesilaus’ deeds in his history, the Hellenica, but also wrote a separate encomium to the king which focused in more detail on his character and personal virtues, even quoting verbatim from the former. For Xenophon’s two accounts of Agesilaus and his influence on biography, see Hägg (2012) 41–51, and 51–66 for his Cyropaedia. ¹⁹ Farrington (2011) 334–9. The primary narrative of the Histories (from Book 3 onwards) is described by Polybius as ‘apodeictic’ (ἀποδεικτικὴ ἰστορία, and μετ’ἀποδείξως: Plb. 2.37.3; 4.40.1; cf. 10.21.8). The exact nature of this methodology is, however, never explained and it has been the cause of much dispute. Schweighäuser (1789–95) 5.109 first interpreted ‘apodeictic history’ as a history concerned with the demonstration of cause and effect and a detailed exposition of events and factors; a view which has influenced many others since. Strachan-Davidson (1888) 5–6 took a similar but more cautious view arguing that causes were not technically included in the definition of this phrase but were a strong consideration. Walbank came down more strongly in favour of Schweighäuser’s view before the 1980s (Walbank (1945) 16 = (1985) 96, and (1972) 57–8). However, Pédech (1964) 43–53 rejected any formal implication of causes in this term since he saw a contradiction between the definition of ‘pragmatic history’, as an account of political and military events, and this demonstrative conception of ‘apodeictic history’, which suggests greater concern for cause and effect than narration of facts. Petzold (1973) 384–5 and Sacks (1981) 171–5 persuasively expanded on this rejection by arguing that at 10.21.8, where Polybius outlines the different treatments demanded of encomium and history, he chiastically contrasts μετ’ἀποδείξως (with elaboration) with κεφαλαιώδη (summary), and thereby indicates a difference in quantity and not quality. Walbank found this argument persuasive in his later years (2002) 7–8.

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biographical material in this sense since it provides an example of an individual who must be both praised and blamed, and whose evaluation in these terms demonstrates to the reader how and why Philip went wrong and what the reader can do to avoid it.²⁰ Antiochus III, Heracleides of Tarentum, and Aratus also show a similar demonstrative pattern in their treatment. Historiography, therefore, attempts not only to persuade the reader that a certain standard of behaviour is praiseworthy, but also exhorts the reader to learn from and judge such behaviour themselves. Such a skill could offer the statesman and general a great advantage in the field. In praising Hannibal’s perceptive understanding of Gaius Flaminius’ irrationality, impulsiveness, and overconfidence, Polybius states that the most important thing for strategoi to know is the character and temperament of their enemy so that they may use that knowledge to their advantage; to know thine enemy (3.81.1–11). The use of biographical material was therefore important in historiography, since it allowed the reader to learn how to evaluate the lives and conduct of men so that they could not only correct their own behaviour, but also use the skill of evaluation against their enemies.²¹

A Biographical Reading of Polybius’ Histories Given the presence of biographical material in Polybius’ Histories and his views on its usefulness for political education, we might consider his work ‘protobiographical’. The Histories, as Tsakmakis has recently noted, represents a step towards the later genre of biography in that it both conforms to and questions the place of bios: while Polybius does not devote a separate discussion to bios as a distinct genre, he uses biographical methods of presentation to further the didactic and experiential quality of his work and organically integrates these methods into the very concept of his historiography.²² In reading Polybius’ work from this biographical perspective, Tsakmakis argues against Momigliano’s somewhat rigid definition of biography as ‘an account of the life of a man [sic] from birth to death’, since this is more applicable to modern biography than ancient biographical texts.²³ He argues instead that a variety of ancient texts might be ‘understood’ as biographical if they exhibit certain features and a cognitive perspective and process which speaks to a kind of ‘proto-biographical’ account (before biography emerged more concretely as a genre in the Roman period).²⁴ Tsakmakis’ more flexible understanding of bios conforms to recent scholarship: for instance, Edwards had earlier introduced the concept of ‘the biographic’, not as a strict genre but as a broader category, representing a trait or set of traits that

²⁰ Farrington (2011) 332–3. ²¹ For the use of exemplars in Greek historiography, see Hedrick (2009) 421–38. ²² Tsakmakis (2018) 257–77. ²³ Momigliano (1993) 11. ²⁴ Tsakmakis (2018) 259.

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could be present not just in biographies but also in a variety of other texts;²⁵ Pelling considered Edwards’s approach as overly cautious, noting that the ancients would have certain generic expectations, but is still explicit that ‘one should not think of a single “biographical genre” with acknowledged conventions, but rather of a complicated picture of overlapping traditions, embracing works of varying form, style, length, and truthfulness’.²⁶ In terms of coverage, Edwards, Hägg, and, most recently, De Temmerman have also redefined bios more loosely as an extended literary text telling the detailed life story of an individual from cradle to grave, or a substantial part of it.²⁷ The need for completeness in all areas originally suggested in Momigliano’s definition has been considerably softened in recent years, since it is problematic for ancient writers who may not have been able to access information on certain periods of life, for instance childhood and education.²⁸ As a basic principle, it is expected that biography be told by someone other than the biographee(s) (otherwise we are in the realm of autobiography) and that its structuring principle and subject matter must be the life of an individual, rather than an idea or a historical process.²⁹ It also does not seem to coagulate into a ‘genre’ in the same way that the novel or history does. It might, for instance, include collective biographies and short biographical reports, be influenced by and inform both historiography and fiction, and can be more historical or fictitious depending on the sources available to an author, as well as their wants and agenda.³⁰ Moreover, some kind of psychological element is needed if a biography is to be more than just an account of the deeds, achievements, and actions of a historical person, it needed ‘to gain insight into a person’s mind to connect and explain the person’s doings and give an impression of a living character, of a “life” ’.³¹ In order to achieve this insight, the author had at times, therefore, to rely on their own imagination to create these connections and complete the story; ²⁵ Edwards & Swain (1997) 1, 228–34. ²⁶ Pelling (1999) 328–30 and (2015) OCD, s.v. ‘biography, Greek’, 232. Cf. Dubrow (1982) 106–7; McGing & Mossman (2006) x–xi. ²⁷ Edwards & Swain (1997) 1–2, Hägg (2012) ix, and De Temmerman (2020b) 11. ²⁸ Momigliano (1993) 11. Cf. Pelling (1990) 217–20 for the limited information on childhood and education in ancient biography. Hägg (2012) 2 also recognizes that the literary aspect is a more restrictive understanding developed in the western tradition and could easily be expanded to include oral and visual forms of expression. ²⁹ Hägg (2012) 3 claimed that subject matter was more important than form in determining a bios, however, Pelling (1999) 328–30 and Adams (2020) 25–7 have challenged this assertion and concluded, using comments from Plutarch, Nepos, and Polybius, that the ancients believed there were identifiable components that earmarked a genre, and it was often insufficient to identify participation in a genre on subject matter alone. ³⁰ Pelling (2002) 147–53 has noted, for instance, that Plutarch becomes more of a historian when writing a ‘historical’ Life in contrast to a cultural one. ³¹ Hägg (2012) 3. This was not, however, the deep psychological analysis and exploration that promotes individuation and the understanding of the real person’s development and personality which is common in modern biography but rather a simpler presentation of character. See Gill (1990) 1–9 and Pitcher (2007) 103 for the distinction between ‘character’ and ‘personality’ and the limited use and exploration of the latter in ancient texts; and Pelling (1990) 224–32 for the existence but limited impact of psychological analysis and exploration in Plutarchean biography.

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an element of fabrication, even if based on real events and details, is often involved in the process. Tsakmakis adds to this discussion and expands the understanding that many texts might be viewed biographically through the creation of a cognitive ‘literary schema’ of biography against which texts might be assessed. The features of this schema include: (1) a single person is foregrounded and the text is monographic in nature; (2) the protagonist is an important figure known to the audience and usually corresponds to the interests of the reading group; (3) any irrelevant material for the evaluation of the protagonist is excluded; (4) the work relates all available information pertaining to the protagonist and if there is too much, selects the most salient and appropriate parts—the value of the parts or anecdotes are derived from the whole concept of the life, not vice versa. In this, the work also tends to be teleological to the extent that it brings ‘the protagonist closer to the accomplishment of his characteristic image’; (5) the information is arranged to fit a pattern which ideally reproduces the narrative structure of a human life, although does not have to be a straightforward or even full account of a person from birth to death; and (6) there was also a cognitive element to it—the audience’s perception and definition of self through their own experiences of human life help establish connections between the world of the text and the reality of the audience. Texts which only exhibit some of these features or to a limited degree, Tsakmakis argues, can be appropriately understood as bioi or at least as existing in the periphery of bios.³² This allows for a flexibility in classification and means that, for instance, ‘a historiographical passage can be regarded as biographical if it evokes the literary schema of biography . . . [and] treats individual episodes or stages of life as instrumental for the accomplishment of character’.³³ Polybius’ model of historiography and its aim of educating the reader has clear affinities with the notion of a bios according to Tsakmakis’ schema and even works with bios on both the subject matter level and the cognitive one. He organizes his narrative around the activities of politically important people (statesmen, kings, generals, etc.), and therefore individuals are at the foreground of his work. He is not, of course, focused on a single person since his Histories is not monographic in nature, but it does chart the character, motivations, and actions of prominent individuals throughout the narrative by brief comments, reports, and epitaphs outlining and evaluating their conduct and principles (cf. Aratus 4.8, 5.12.5–8, 7.12–14, and 8.12.6–8). Although not a full account of each person from birth to death (information on the childhood and education of many of his historical agents would not have been available to him, or appropriate given his focus on politics and war), what is said about each person is arranged to fit the structure of

³² Tsakmakis (2018) 258–61.

³³ Tsakmakis (2018) 263–4.

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a human life as it is revealed more or less chronologically. Some episodes are, however, placed proleptically or analeptically to add support to Polybius’ interpretation of a life and to demonstrate the accomplishment of character, for instance Scipio Africanus’, Philopoemen’s, and Scipio Aemilianus’ youth and training (see 10.3–5, 10.22, and 31.23–30 respectively).³⁴ Furthermore, despite the fact that Polybius’ work is historical and aims to provide as full an account of political events and people as possible, we have seen in the course of this volume that there is evidence of selectivity and one-sidedness in his descriptions and evaluations of individuals (see Antigonus Doson and Aratus of Sicyon in Chapter 1; Philip V throughout, but particularly in Chapters 2 and 3). While various judgements on agents and their actions are offered throughout the course of their lives in the Histories (cf. 10.26.9), they are generally interpreted teleologically to produce an overall positive or negative impression of them as a character. This teleological development of character works in a similar way to what Pelling has described as ‘integrated’ characterization in Plutarch, where ‘different elements of character are regularly brought into some sort of relationship with one another, reconciled: not exactly unified, for a character cannot be described with a single word or category, and is not a stereotype; but one element at least goes closely with another and each element predicts the next’.³⁵ These ‘neighbouring traits’ produce an expected or predictable unit, ‘a sort of a person like . . .’, which can be assessed and used to draw out exemplary morals. This integrated way of seeing character, closely connected with moral edification, was, as Pelling observed, not at all unusual in the ancient world, and we may note that Polybius himself frequently uses the same technique although in a looser and more nuanced way than Plutarch. While his portrait of Aratus may be unusually unpredictable and disconnected, particularly in contrast with Plutarch’s ‘integrated’ version of the Sicyonian, we still find that it conforms, as with the majority of his historical agents, to an ‘integrated’ type that can be learnt from.³⁶ As noted in Chapter 1, despite the acknowledgement of certain undesirable traits in Aratus, Polybius is careful to mould his overall depiction of Aratus into one that creates a person consistently possessed of Hellenic virtues (reason, control, forethought) and who stands for freedom, democracy, and fair judgement; a portrait heavily influenced by Polybius’ political and didactic intentions. Generally, therefore, there is unity and coherence in how historical agents and their lives are portrayed in Polybius’ Histories and how they function in the overarching history of the rise of Rome. The need to explain what they did, and ³⁴ For the use of prolepsis and analepsis in Polybius, see Miltsios (2013) 74–83. ³⁵ Pelling (1988) 262–74 and (1990) 225–40; cf. Pitcher (2007) 103–4 for the notion of consistency of character in ancient historiography. ³⁶ It is likely that Polybius’ personal connection to Aratus made his portrait of him more individual and nuanced. See Pelling (1988) 264–7 for a comparison of Polybius’ and Plutarch’s portrayal of Aratus.

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how and why, means that Polybius’ Histories often demonstrates not only the agreement of character and action (note, for instance, that Aratus’ character is ‘proved’ through examples of his actions at 4.8.4–5), but also provides case studies for the improvement of the reader. There is, finally, a cognitive process in the Histories that speaks to biography—the narrative is framed in terms of everyone’s experience of human life and the readers are encouraged ‘to imagine themselves living in the world of history and imagine how they would act in various circumstances’. Tsakmakis further demonstrates the biographical quality of Polybius’ work using two case studies, one on Polybius’ account of Scipio Africanus (10.2) and the other on Scipio Aemilianus (31.23–4). In the former, it is observed that Polybius acknowledges and plays on people’s desire to learn more about outstanding personalities, encourages this interest by comparing Africanus with the legendary lawgiver Lycurgus (10.2.8–12), and offers a detailed narrative to paint a picture of the man’s character and virtues, connecting his achievements with his mental and moral qualities (cf. 10.2.1–7). ‘The illustration of theory and praxis as a unity, exemplified through a characteristic episode of the life of the protagonist is a trademark of biographical writing.’ Polybius thereby uses the desire of the reader to learn more about the great Scipio Africanus to enhance their involvement in the Roman’s interpretation and ‘increases the persuasiveness and instructive effectiveness of the passage’.³⁷ In Tsakmakis’ discussion of Polybius’ account of Scipio Aemilianus it is noted that the ancient historian, unlike his classical predecessors, devotes special attention to the individual stages of a person’s life. The anecdote of the first meeting and development of friendship between Polybius and Scipio Aemilianus at 31.23–4 is highlighted as a specific example of this as this episode represents a significant event in the life of both individuals: Polybius’ company was instrumental for Scipio’s acquisition of fame at a remarkably young age and marks a self-conscious choice by Aemilianus of a guide who will influence his whole life; for Polybius, this choice also means distinction and social ascent after a political fall and deportation to Rome. It marks ‘a symbolic change of status’ for both that will bring each man closer to fulfilling their respective missions in life.³⁸ This anecdote is typical of biography which tends to mark important changes in status: initiation, conversion, absolving education, making an important decision, entering into a new phase of life, etc.³⁹

Polybius’ ‘Political Biography’ of Philip V of Macedon Tsakmakis does not mention Philip V, although Polybius’ account of Philip is drawn out in a similar biographical way to both Scipio Africanus and Aemilianus. ³⁷ Tsakmakis (2018) 264–6. ³⁸ Tsakmakis (2018) 269–73. ³⁹ For typical structure and typology of anecdotes, see Tsakmakis (2018) 271–2.

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Philip V is a well-known individual and excites the fascination of the reader for his power, great success. and great failure. Polybius draws out a detailed account of the king’s character and conduct, yet still creates an overarching, singular impression of the king’s life as one of great brilliance and great decline. We are not meant to fully understand the king in a psychological way, but to see him as an ‘integrated’ character with traits and motives that help explain his development. He is the archetypal king and becomes the archetypal tyrant as he fulfils the criteria and expectations of kings and tyrants outlined by Polybius in Book 6 (cf. Chapter 4). His life is also recorded in three or four stages of character development:⁴⁰ (1) his youth, education, and early years as king (222–216 ) where he learns how to be a successful general and ruler, how to manage his Greek allies, and follows a path of ‘Hellenic’ excellence under the guidance of Aratus of Sicyon (see Books 4 and 5 of the Histories, but especially 4.77 and 5.104); (2) his turn for the worse into tyrannical and savage conduct (215–197 ) where he steps away from Aratus’ guidance, starts dominating the Greek cities rather than working with them, and follows a path of self-interested expansion (see Books 7–18, but especially 7.11–14 and 15.20); (3a/3) his recovery (196–186 ) after his defeat by the Romans at Cynoscephalae where he starts to correct and moderate his behaviour, to act kindly even to enemies (the Aetolian strategos, Nicander, 20.11), and to look after his community and restore Macedon’s strength and resources (cf. Plb. 18.33 and 25.3.9–10); and (3b/4) his fall into madness (186–179 ) when he allegedly looks to exact revenge against Rome, prepares for this by forcing the transmigration of Macedonian and Thracian communities, and turns to the assassination of Macedonian nobility and his own son, Demetrius, to protect himself (23.10).⁴¹ These sections segment Philip’s life and mark key stages in his arc of decline and ultimately bring him to a tyrannical and mad existence, his defeat by Rome, and the downfall of the house of Macedon. Anecdotes drawing attention to these stages are also prevalent throughout Philip’s life—Thermum and Messene are two key examples already discussed at length in Chapter 2, but others include: his fair handling of court disputes and his defence of Aratus in his youth (4.76, 82–7; 5.1–2, 13–16, 25–9), his allegedly unsuccessful attempt to appear democratic at the Nemean Games in his dress and conduct (10.26.1–2), his unlawful behaviour at these games in his pursuit of ⁴⁰ In 1963, Welwei argued that Polybius separated Philip’s life into four stages of development, the last being his fall into madness in his last years (23.10), a view which has been very influential; (1963). See also Pédech (1964) 237–8. However, it is not certain, due to the fragmentary nature of the Histories, that Polybius actually severed the ‘terrible misfortunes’ beginning in 183  from the third stage of recovery and kingly duty. One could argue that Philip’s new change of mind in Polybius’ narrative actually prepares the scene for what he sees (and conveys with all possible means) as the real tragic ending to Philip’s life and his Macedonian kingdom. ⁴¹ While a biographical investigation was not the purpose of McGing’s 2013 article on Philip’s youth in Polybius’ Histories, his argument reveals the importance Polybius assigned to this early stage of the king’s development and how he constructed his narrative to emphasize the unexpectedness of Philip’s contravention of Spartan and Aetolian expectations of youthful incompetence.

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married and unmarried women (10.26.3–6), his poisoning of Aratus (8.12.2–7), his pact with Antiochus in 203 (15.20), his unfeeling brutality at Abydus (16.29–35), his congenial meeting and treatment of the Aetolian Nicander (20.11), his fall into madness following the punishment of tyche (23.10), and his sage advice to his sons urging them not to quarrel between themselves (23.11). In his obituary (25.3.9–10), he is remembered for having grown great among the Greeks, for being extremely faithless and lawless during his most powerful years, but the most moderate of men when fortune left him, and, when he blundered, for trying to adapt himself to contingencies and by all means to build up his kingdom.⁴² While much of this is fragmentary, in combination with Polybius’ larger narrative it produces the image of a man that goes from brilliance in his youth to tyranny and madness in his later years. It is a life of tragedy and thereby fits the tragic mode of Polybius’ account of his final years (see Chapter 5). While there is praise as well as blame in his depiction of Philip in the second half of his life, the portrait that survives is strikingly negative, backed up as Farrington indicated with theory and praxis (commentary and narrative), and speaks to a teleological scheme. Under this construction, Philip’s life represents not only the theoretical degeneration of kingship into tyranny, but also of the real-world fall of the royal house of Macedon. The king is framed in didactic terms and the biographical aspects of this king produce a vivid warning against emulating such a negative figure. By the demonstrative element of his narrative, Polybius also enacted a ‘biographical’ schema in his portrait of Philip in order to enhance the involvement of the reader in the negative interpretation of the king and thereby reinforce the persuasiveness and instructive effectiveness of his whole portrait. The strength of this biographical method of presentation in a history lies in the coherence and long-lasting nature of the impression left of the individual. The majority of surviving accounts of Philip V (Livy, Plutarch, Appian) used Polybius’ narrative for the king and were influenced by its negativity.⁴³ Even modern scholarship has been affected by this impression since Philip is still often dismissed as one of the weak and tyrannical kings defeated by Rome in the second century  and therefore of limited interest. He is continually underestimated despite his many achievements. Because of its clarity, coherent narrative arc, and

⁴² Plb. 25.3.9–10: ὅτι Φίλιππος ὁ βασιλεύς, ὅτε μὲν ηὐξήθη καὶ τὴν κατὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐξουσίαν ἔλαβε, πάντων ἦν ἀπιστότατος καὶ παρανομώτατος, ὅτε δὲ πάλιν τὰ τῆς τύχης ἀντέπνευσε, πάντων μετριώτατος. ἐπεὶ δὲ τοῖς ὅλοις πράγμασιν ἔπταισε, πρὸς πᾶν τὸ μέλλον ἁρμοζόμενος ἐπειρᾶτο κατὰ πάντα τρόπον σωματοποιεῖν τὴν αὑτοῦ βασιλείαν. That King Philip, when he grew great and was powerful among the Greeks, was the most faithless and lawless of all, but when again the winds of fortune blew against him, he was the most moderate of men. Then when all his affairs fell apart, he adapted himself to all contingencies and tried to fortify his kingdom by every means. ⁴³ For the heavy influence of Polybius on Livy’s and Plutarch’s interpretations of Philip V see the Introduction to this volume. For echoes of non-Polybian, less negative views, see D’Agostini (2011) 99–121 on Appian’s depiction of the king, and (2015) 121–44 on Justin’s portrait.

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evaluative nature, this biographical mode (like tragedy) is also easier for the reader to follow and learn from; the teleological manner of the portrait encourages only one understanding of the king’s life and actions. Yet, the biographical features of this portrait also have weaknesses for the historical form and intentions of Polybius’ work. The issue with history is that it brings in all the other ‘bits’ of information that contradict or complicate the picture of a coherent life, and this was certainly the case in Polybius’ account of Philip V’s treatment of his allies. While the historian wanted to show that Philip’s behaviour towards his allies became increasingly cruel, savage, and treacherous following his turn for the worse at Messene in 215, this interpretation is compromised by his own recording of events up to 198 which, if looked at closely, tells a different tale. As is seen in Chapter 3, history demanded an accurate record of what happened to the Greek states between 215 and 198, but this extra information does not assist the image of the king Polybius is wanting to create. Some episodes which could be interpreted in a positive way have therefore been interpreted in a decidedly negative and onesided way or left undiscussed to create a unitary impression of the king that is generally damning. Polybius refuses to allow his readers to come up with a different interpretation of the Macedonian king based on the evidence he provides. Polybius’ use of biographical method in presenting individuals in his Histories creates a more singular, coherent, and long-lasting impression of an individual in history, in this case Philip V of Macedon. This biographical styling assists the didactic and teleological nature of the work but is compromised by the detailed and holistic approach needed in historiography, weakening the strength of Polybius’ interpretation of a life, and in turn compromises the integrity of his historiography as it produces inconsistencies in the narrative. Polybius struggled to merge two ways of dealing with and structuring information about people, and two ways of learning about and from them. While Polybius adhered to the strand of historiography which focused on preserving as much truth and detail as possible and on illuminating cause and effect for educational benefit, he was equally influenced by the encomiastic and proto-biographical movements that had emerged from the fifth century onwards, which aimed to create examples of lives to be emulated by those in active politics.

Part 2: One Man Among Many While Polybius sometimes used a biographical method of presentation in his work and believed this compatible with historiography if used appropriately, this feature did not define his overarching working methodology. While he wrote about the lives and political careers of men, his purpose and focus were not on the individual but political and military action, and it was of the utmost importance that the lives of men should not interfere, take over, or loom too large on the

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broader course of history. His criticism of Theopompus in Book 8 is illustrative of this point. At 8.8, Polybius has contrasted his own treatment of Philip V at Messene with other ‘monograph’ writers, attacked Theopompus in a long digression for his simultaneously flattering yet damning account of Philip II (8.9–10), and then comes to the issue of Philip II’s position within his history (8.11.3–5):⁴⁴ καὶ μὴν οὐδὲ περὶ τὰς ὁλοσχερεῖς διαλήψεις οὐδεὶς ἂν εὐδοκήσειε τῷ προειρημένῳ συγγραφεῖ: ὅς γ᾽ ἐπιβαλόμενος γράφειν τὰς Ἑλληνικὰς πράξεις ἀφ᾽ ὧν Θουκυδίδης ἀπέλιπε, καὶ συνεγγίσας τοῖς Λευκτρικοῖς καιροῖς καὶ τοῖς ἐπιφανεστάτοις τῶν Ἑλληνικῶν ἔργων, τὴν μὲν Ἑλλάδα μεταξὺ καὶ τὰς ταύτης ἐπιβολὰς ἀπέρριψε, μεταλαβὼν δὲ τὴν ὑπόθεσιν τὰς Φιλίππου πράξεις προύθετο γράφειν. καίτοι γε πολλῷ σεμνότερον ἦν καὶ δικαιότερον ἐν τῇ περὶ τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὑποθέσει τὰ πεπραγμένα Φιλίππῳ συμπεριλαβεῖν ἤπερ ἐν τῇ Φιλίππου τὰ τῆς Ἑλλάδος. οὐδὲ γὰρ προκαταληφθεὶς ὑπὸ βασιλικῆς δυναστείας, καὶ τυχὼν ἐξουσίας, οὐδεὶς ἂν ἐπέσχε σὺν καιρῷ ποιήσασθαι μετάβασιν ἐπὶ τὸ τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὄνομα καὶ πρόσωπον: ἀπὸ δὲ ταύτης ἀρξάμενος καὶ προβὰς ἐπὶ ποσὸν οὐδ᾽ ὅλως οὐδεὶς ἂν ἠλλάξατο μονάρχου πρόσχημα καὶ βίον, ἀκεραίῳ χρώμενος γνώμῃ. Truly, no one could approve of this writer for his overall scheme. For having devoted himself to writing the history of Greece from the point at which Thucydides left off and coming up to the battle of Leuctra and the most brilliant of Greek deeds,⁴⁵ he threw aside Greece in the middle of its efforts and changing his purpose set about to write the history of Philip. Surely, it would have been much more dignified and just to include Philip’s achievements in the history of Greece than to include those of Greece in the history of Philip. For not even a man preoccupied with kingly rule would hesitate to transfer the title and chief role of his work to Greece if he possessed the power to do so; and nor would anyone in his right mind who had begun and made some progress on such a project for a time have wholly exchanged it for the pomp of a royal biography (bios).

Polybius’ criticism of Theopompus aligns with his views regarding the best type of historiography—that is, universal history and not specialist monographs. A universal history keeps everything, people included, in their correct proportion and significance, reveals the connections between them, and documents a more complete and nuanced understanding of cause and effect. Just as a ‘general’

⁴⁴ For Polybius’ criticisms of Theopompus, see Walbank HCP II 79–87, and 86–7 for this passage. See also Flower (1994) 98–104, who argues that Polybius misrepresents Theopompus’ portrait of Philip, and Gibson (2018) 80–3 for Polybius’ attack on Theopompus’ use of flattery in his history. See also Bearzot (2005) and Vattuone (2014) 19–27. ⁴⁵ This is an exaggeration since the terminal point of the Hellenica is 394, 23 years before Leuctra. As Walbank (1962) 1–12 = (1985) 262–79 has stressed, this is probably due to Polybius’ desire to draw attention to the foundation of his home city, Megalopolis, and the Arcadian League, which Theopompus would have covered had he followed the original plan of his work.

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history is a conglomerate of specialist histories, therefore, so the history of Greece is a conglomerate of genealogies, political and state development, and the lives of men amongst others. Theopompus’ crime was to make Philip II too large in the history of Greece and the eastern Mediterranean, to make the history of Greece a biography of a king, and thereby reduce the agency and contribution of the contemporary Greek states and their leaders, but also ignore the mystifying and unexpected work of tyche. Philip II, it seems, served Theopompus both as a framework for the narration of history as well as a central figure within the narrative itself.⁴⁶ Although a case can be made for giving Philip II such a central position and function from 360  onwards given that his personality dominated mainland Greece, this in Polybius’ opinion is a distortion of reality and unhelpful to the student of history and politics.⁴⁷ History should not give preference to one individual life to the exclusion of others. Focusing on the actions of one individual does not produce an accurate account of what really caused the rise of Macedon in the fourth century, does not allow the evaluation of action and consequence, of cause and effect, and therefore does not allow the reader to learn correctly how to understand, analyse, and act in a similar situation. While information on individuals was brought into historiography to be analysed, in Polybius’ mind history did not focus on one man, even one ‘great man’. That is not to say, of course, that men and specifically ‘great men’ are unimportant in Polybius’ work—they clearly are and much of the course of history is perceived as either their actions or a result of their actions in politics and war. The Histories focus almost entirely on leaders of men—statesmen, kings, consuls, military commanders, courtiers, etc.—as the primary history-making individuals. In Book 9, moreover, Polybius outlines how the character of cities changes with those who govern them (9.23.8) and in Book 38, when talking about the negative impact the Aetolian, Lyciscus, had on his people, notes that (32.4.2): τηλικαύτη τίς ἐστιν, ὡς ἔοικε, δύναμις ἐν ταῖς τῶν ἀνθρώπων φύσεσιν, ὥστε μὴ μόνον στρατόπεδα καὶ πόλεις, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰς ἐθνικὰς συστάσεις καὶ τὰς ὁλοσχερεῖς διαφορὰς τῆς οἰκουμένης δι᾽ ἑνὸς ἀνδρὸς ἀρετὴν καὶ κακίαν ποτὲ μὲν τῶν μεγίστων κακῶν, ποτὲ δὲ τῶν μεγίστων ἀγαθῶν πεῖραν λαμβάνειν. So great it seems is the power exercised by men’s natures that not only armies and cities, but also confederations and all the different peoples of the oikoumene sometimes experience the greatest misfortunes, sometimes the greatest benefits, because of one man’s excellence or wickedness.

At 38.8.14, he also mentions how the destinies of Greece and Carthage were affected by men (διὸ καὶ λίαν δοκῶ καλῶς ἡμῖν εἰρῆσθαι διότι προστάτας ⁴⁶ Cf. Brown Ferrario (2014) 290.

⁴⁷ Cf. Walbank HCP II 80.

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πραγμάτων ὁμοιοτέρους τῶν παρὰ τοῖς Ἕλλησι τότε καὶ παρὰ τοῖς Καρχηδονίοις ὑπαρξάντων οὐκ ἂν εὕροι τις ῥᾳδίως). Equally Philip V’s actions not only brought about the downfall of Macedon but also contributed to the rise of Rome (cf. 15.20; 23.10). Polybius’ target audience are those who will be or are part of this historymaking group, and his explanations and lessons are aimed at them. One of the messages that emerges from his Histories is that while ‘great men’ often dictate world affairs, as individuals they each still only play a part in the larger system of the oikoumene, of the whole, as there are so many other great men and inexplicable forces such as tyche in play which all contribute to the changes of the world.⁴⁸ This view most likely reflects, as Walbank pointed out, the attitude of Greeks who lived in ‘free cities’ and were more concerned with their own people and deeds than those who might be attached to a king.⁴⁹ Moreover, Polybius’ account of Philip V might be seen as a reaction to Theopompus’ account of Philip II, and thereby reinforce Polybius’ views on the place of (political) bios and men in history. It is, after all, in between his criticism of the biased monographic writers of Philip V (8.8.3–9) and his own account of Philip V’s capture of Messene (8.12) that Polybius talks about Theopompus’ treatment of Philip II and disparages him for writing a bios of the king (Plb. 8.9–11). Philip V’s own cultivation of a connection between himself and Philip II would equally have encouraged their comparison (5.10.10), as well as Polybius’ understanding of Philip II and Alexander as the founders of the empire and Philip V and Perseus as its destroyers (22.18.10). While his criticism of Theopompus is fragmentary and we are missing its ending, from Polybius’ surviving comments it is clear that this objection is not just about Theopompus’ censorious treatment of the earlier Macedonian. Polybius viewed his treatment of Philip II as one-sided and unhelpful to the reader certainly, but also maligned it for positioning Philip II at the very centre of history. Philip V’s character and actions, in contrast, are not only assessed throughout the Histories, apportioning him both praise and blame and offering the reader examples of good and bad behaviour, but he is also integrated into the broader history of the Mediterranean. While Philip V is an important part of the Histories and Rome’s progress to supremacy, he is not the centre of the work but subsumed into the larger picture of events. The destruction of the kingdom of Macedon—of which Polybius claims Philip V was the originator—stands large as the point at which Rome has fully established its dominance in the Mediterranean (cf. Plb. 3.1.9, 3.8–9), but it is not

⁴⁸ For the view that Polybius had a positive view of life, human reason, man’s ability to overcome weakness and achieve great things, see Wunderer (1901) 28, 32 and (1927) 3, 14, 18, 19; Pédech (1964) 600 and 603, (1966) 68; Mioni (1949) 75, 102; von Fritz (1954) 351; and Podes (1990) 226. For a more negative perspective on Polybius’ outlook, see von Scala (1890) 62 and Eckstein (1995b) 254–71 for Polybius’ growing pessimism about human nature, human weakness, and the ability of man to achievement greatness as the Histories progresses. ⁴⁹ Walbank HCP II 86–7.

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the only moment of significance: the Punic Wars and particularly the second against Hannibal, the Roman venture into Illyria, the war against Antiochus III, for instance, all play a part in the progression towards Roman supremacy. This is clear from the very beginning of the work where Polybius outlines the contents, structure, and direction of his history and summarizes how all of these events are connected with each other (Plb. 1.3.1–6; cf.3.2–3). Moreover, Book 6, which lays out Polybius’ theory of constitutions, brings all the different peoples and states into direct relation with each other as a theory that can be applied universally. In Book 4, we are reminded that while writers attribute the decisions and actions of a council to the monarch or leader, we must remember that these decisions and the arguments on which they rest would actually have come about through the discussion of more than one man (4.24.1–2). The importance of advisers and friends for young kings in determining the success or failure of their kingdoms is also pointed out after the tirade against Philip’s actions at Messene (7.14.6). In Polybius’ Histories, therefore, Philip V and his life are kept in correct proportion with the rest of the world, and it is understood that he is not the sole individual making decisions even within his own kingdom. This allows the reader not only to understand the king’s true significance, his connections and relationship with others, the cause and effect of his actions, but also to evaluate him properly against the backdrop of all the other men involved in the fate of the world. In his 2018 article, Tsakmakis noted that while the different lives of men consist of separate narratives in Polybius’ work their perspective is holistic, since they never lose sight of the bigger picture as studies of human morality in a macrohistorical framework.⁵⁰ The lives of men are organically integrated into the very concept of his historiography. The Histories, as it discusses and evaluates the many ‘great men’ and their political role in the Mediterranean of the third and second centuries , could be seen in part as made up of a series of political biographies that are woven together, as the events of the oikoumene are woven together. While the coherence and unity of the individual lives themselves may be suspect, when woven together they create a more realistic impression of world affairs as complicated, interdependent, and unpredictable, and offer a more nuanced consideration of human agency, action, character, and success.

Part 3: A Comparison of Philip’s Portrait with Other Kings (and Hannibal) The rest of this chapter will compare Polybius’ treatment of a selection of other rulers with Philip’s portrait. A comprehensive study of all rulers in the Histories

⁵⁰ Tsakmakis (2018) 273.

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would be far too large a venture for this chapter and an extensive study of kings and kingship has already been undertaken by Welwei in his 1963 dissertation Könige und Königtum im Urteil des Polybius, so neither will be attempted here.⁵¹ However, in widening the focus of this study to appreciate Polybius’ ‘universal’ design and see Philip in a larger crowd of great men, it is necessary to analyse and compare the depiction of other individuals in the Histories. We have already explored Philip’s narrative connection with the Greek leader Aratus of Sicyon in Chapter 1, and outlined how Polybius shapes his text to consistently depict the Achaean leader in a decidedly exemplary light as the noble, insightful, and independent instigator of the Achaean League fighting against tyranny and promoting freedom, autonomy, and peace in the Peloponnese. In Chapter 2, it is observed how Aratus’ portrait is irrevocably bound up with Philip’s as he advises the king in his early years and consistently encourages him to follow the Hellenic qualities of reason, justice, piety, moderation, and magnanimity. This guidance, Polybius claims, demonstrates that the tenor of Aratus’ whole life was good and free from wickedness, impulsiveness, and lack of judgement (5.12.7: . . . τῆς κατὰ τὸν ὅλον βίον προαιρέσεως, ἐν ᾗ περὶ μὲν Ἄρατον οὐδὲν ἂν εὑρεθείη προπετὲς οὐδ᾽ ἄκριτον . . . ; 7.13.4: τότε περὶ μὲν Ἀράτου τὸν βίον ἐφήσαμεν ἀπολογεῖσθαι τὸ μηδὲν ἂν ποιῆσαι μοχθηρόν . . . ). Like Philip, Aratus’ portrait has biographical elements, is politically loaded, and is composed of assessment through commentary and demonstrative narrative which supports this evaluation.⁵² In Chapter 4, we also explored the interchanging trajectories of Philip and the Romans as a collective and Flamininus as their representative in Polybius’ account before and during the Second Macedonian War. It was observed how both the Macedonian king and the Romans are depicted and judged according to their treatment of the Greeks and how their conduct and actions align with the Hellenic values of reason, piety, justice, bravery, moderation, magnanimity, civic responsibility, etc. Having reached the peak of their excellence during the Hannibalic War, Flamininus represents the Romans at their constitutional, military, and moral prime, and thereby comes to take over the role of the saviour of the Greeks from the tyrannical and barbaric Philip in the conference of Nicaea, at the battle of Cynoscephalae and the Isthmian Games in 196 . While Polybius’ information regarding Flamininus’ youth is not as extensive as others (which may ⁵¹ Welwei (1963) runs through Polybius’ comments and judgements on eighteen of the most important kings in detail (Philip II, Alexander the Great, Antigonus Gonatas, Antigonus Doson, Philip V, Perseus, Antiochus III, Antiochus IV and Demetrius Soter, Ptolemy IV Philopator, Ptolemy VI Philometor and Ptolemy VIII Euergetes, Agathocles and Hieron II of Syracuse, Attalus I and Eumenes II Soter of Pergamum, Cleomenes III of Sparta, Prusias II of Bithynia, Massinissa and Amynander of Athamania), and then explores his overall picture of kingship with reference to the qualities and training that made up the ‘true’ king (talent and faculties, education and training, character, appearance and presence, beneficence and concern for subjects, court, the protection and security of the kingdom, and management of foreign affairs and warfare). Much of this represents views on kingship established from the fourth century . ⁵² Cf. Farrington (2011) 333.

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be due to the fragmentary state of Book 17), there is still a clear biographical element to his depiction and evaluation of his conduct (18.12.3–5). While not connected with Philip in Polybius’ work, Scipio Africanus and Scipio Aemilianus demonstrate similar, if not even more, excellence than Flamininus in the Histories and are treated in a more explicit biographical nature, which is most likely connected with Polybius’ close relationship with the family (see above). In this section, we will focus primarily on comparing Philip’s portrait with other Macedonian/Hellenistic kings: his predecessors, Philip II and Alexander, his contemporaries, Antiochus III and Ptolemy IV, and his successor, Perseus. Alongside the theoretical discussion of kingship and tyranny in Book 6 which we explored in Chapter 4, such an investigation will allow us to sketch in broader strokes Polybius’ view of kings and kingship, how this changed over time, and how his depiction of Philip V contributes to this larger picture. To complete the analysis, we move away from kings and to another figure who stands large as an individual in the Histories, Hannibal Barca. Hannibal appears almost monarchical in the text, was neither Greek, Roman, nor Macedonian, was another enemy of Rome, and had some direct contact with Philip himself. Consideration of his treatment will, therefore, prove helpful in widening our understanding of Polybius’ interpretation of enemies of Rome and ‘great men’.

Kings ὅτι [Φιλίππου] οὐκ ἀγαθὰ μείζω τις σχοίη πρὸς βασιλείαν οὐδεὶς τῶν πρότερον οὐδὲ κακὰ τούτου τοῦ βασιλέως. καί μοι δοκεῖ τὰ μὲν ἀγαθὰ φύσει περὶ αὐτὸν ὑπάρξαι, τὰ δὲ κακὰ προβαίνοντι κατὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν ἐπιγενέσθαι, καθάπερ ἐνίοις ἐπιγίνεται γηράσκουσι τῶν ἵππων. (10.26.7–8) None of the previous kings possessed more good or bad qualities for kingship than this king [Philip]. And it seems to me that the good qualities existed in him naturally, while the bad qualities came to him throughout his lifetime as he advanced in years, just as they come to some horses when they grow old. In this passage, Polybius sets Philip V apart from all previous kings, although it is not entirely clear whether he means just the Macedonian kings or kings as a category in general. Regardless of this ambiguity, for Polybius Philip represents the best and worst of kingship. His natural brilliance and potential to surpass all previous rulers is openly proclaimed and supported by Polybius’ comments on Philip in his early years (note particularly 4.77 and 7.11). There is the implication, therefore, that he could have been even better than Alexander. This brilliant king naturally imbued with all the right qualities for good kingship is prevented from

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reaching this potential, however, by the onslaught of life which wears down these good features and gradually instils vices and bad habits. The parallel with the life and temperament of horses informs us that this decline is seen as a natural and universal occurrence in living beings, just as the degeneration of good constitutions occurs naturally in Book 6 (6.4.11–12, 9.10, 57.1–9). While it is difficult to tell given the fragmentary nature of the evidence, no other king seems to receive the same personal focus by Polybius as Philip V. While there are many similarities in the presentation and assessment of kings in the Histories, Philip is held in special regard for a number of reasons: his close connection with Aratus of Sicyon, the Achaean League, and the Greeks of the mainland and Aegean; his position as the first Hellenistic king to confront and be defeated by the Romans in their spread eastwards; Polybius’ view that he was responsible for the destruction of the Macedonian empire; and that he had structural importance for history and the world as the initiator of the symploke. Therefore, even though Philip V fits into the general category of a king in the Histories, he also has a far more personal and politically loaded image and function. It would be expected, therefore, that his portrayal would be slightly different, or slightly more exaggerated than that of other kings. This is already partly evident from the passage cited above, but further investigation will demonstrate this in more concrete terms. In his 1963 investigation of kings and kingship in Polybius, Welwei concluded that while Polybius assessed kings according to pre-set ideas regarding ideal or true kingship going back to the fourth century , he generally avoided schematism in writing about them and did his best to work out and record the idiosyncrasies of each monarch.⁵³ Details of their character, achievements, military skill, and statecraft were found from existing reports and sources and used to create a realistic and nuanced account of their life.⁵⁴ Yet, Welwei also noted that Polybius could not always escape from his own background and that his Achaean perspective often set limits on the objectivity of his judgements, particularly regarding the Macedonian kings. The findings of this volume have corroborated this argument. In 2013, Dreyer also reinforced the influence of three other factors in Polybius’ depiction of kings and kingship: (1) the overarching and deterministic role of tyche in bringing about the rise of Rome, (2) his political theory on monarchy, kingship, and tyranny outlined in Book 6, and (3) the set of ‘characteristics’ and ‘tasks’ required in Greek thought of a good king.⁵⁵ We have explored all of these ⁵³ Welwei (1963) 122–33. See also pp. 123–84 for a discussion of the ideal king and the kingly man in Polybius. Cf. pp. 190–3 of this volume for details of Polybius’ views on kingship and tyranny. ⁵⁴ See Dreyer (2013a) 201–12 for an investigation of the sources Polybius’ used for the end of Philip’s life. Dreyer (2013b) 233–49 agrees with Welwei’s conclusions but adds to them by claiming that while Polybius held Achaean sympathies, he did not intentionally falsify his picture of the kings, and only deepened the opinions and attitudes that he found in his sources. ⁵⁵ Dreyer (2013b) 234–5. Kings must rule over willing subjects by lawful conduct and reason and work with the intention to preserve and benefit their community of subjects and allies, and not distinguish themselves from their subjects by dress, food, or love affairs (6.7.106). They must also be

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influences in this book already (see the Introduction and Chapter 5 for tyche; Chapter 4 for political theory and kingship), corroborating their central role in determining Philip’s image in the Histories. Yet, there is another element in Polybius’ view of the world which affects his portrait of kings and kingship: a growing pessimism concerning human character and reason, and the ability of man to achieve and maintain excellence. This is hinted at in the passage above but was studied in a more detailed treatise by Eckstein in 1995.⁵⁶ Eckstein observed how there are indications of ‘an early faith in the ability of individuals to have a crucial impact upon the world and upon the course of history. The first volumes of the Histories seem to reflect the common Hellenistic belief—influenced so heavily by the Greek experience of Alexander— in the importance of “great men”.’⁵⁷ Hamilcar, Hannibal, Philopoemen, and Scipio Africanus are pointed out as the ‘titans’ of this age. Yet, this faith in man quickly seems to deteriorate. While Polybius admired Alexander the Great for his enormous accomplishments and godlike personage (cf. 12.23.5; cf. 8.10.8–10), in the period of the Histories ‘Polybius found no Alexanders—only men.’ Even the greatest men of his day had their deficiencies and limitations and had to struggle against the formidable obstacles put in the way by Fortune, other men and external circumstances, and sometimes their own emotions.⁵⁸ The last generation of individuals in the Histories, from the Third Macedonian War (171–167 ) to the Third Punic War and Achaean War (146 ), are almost completely devoid of such men and the possibilities of human reason and action are almost entirely diminished by amoral and irrational behaviour.⁵⁹ Moreover, alongside this decline in human reason and potential, there is an awareness of the fragility of monarchy as an institution and its inadequacy in maintaining stability and resilience, an attitude which affects the overall view of kingship in the Histories. Polybius believed, like many ancient writers, that the course of politics and the condition of the state was determined by the individuals in power (9.23.8–9). The more important these men were and the greater the power they had in a state the greater the fragility of such a state. This is noted in both the individual character and actions of the monarch, and the importance of securing the succession of a suitable heir without dynastic discord. Polybius’ openly discusses the essential task for young kings of choosing advisers carefully in Book 5 after his account of Philip’s actions at Messene. The character of these advisers, he claims, plays a large role in determining the benefactors to all men (Plb. 5.11.6), strive for universal dominion (Plb. 7.12–13; 8.8; 10.26; 15.20), treat the defeated mildly (5.10.5, 12.1; 8.23.5; cf. 1.8.4; 7.8.2; 2.70.1), consider court disputes with care (4.85.5), and not be discouraged or forget duty in misfortune (16.28.3; 18.33.2). ⁵⁶ See Eckstein (1995b) 237–71, but particularly 254–70. See also Petzold (1969) 60–3 and Gruen (1984) 348. ⁵⁷ Eckstein (1995b) 254–5. ⁵⁸ Eckstein (1995b) 256–7. ⁵⁹ Eckstein (1995b) 261–70.

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character of monarchic rule and the success or failure of the whole state (5.13.4–6). We have already seen how this plays out in the case of Philip and Macedon, but a similar emphasis on advisers is also seen in Polybius’ account of Antiochus III and the Seleucid empire, and Ptolemy IV and Egypt, which we will discuss in more detail below.⁶⁰ The problems of securing the succession are also brought out in two speeches by Philip V himself. In his meeting with Flamininus at the conference of Nicaea before Cynoscephalae, Philip refuses to come to the shore to meet with Flamininus and the Greeks because he considered the dangers not the same for all (18.1.6–9). ‘If anything happened to Phaineas’ he says, ‘there were many who could be strategoi of the Aetolians, but if Philip perished there was no one at present to be king of the Macedonians’ (18.1.9: Φαινέου μὲν γὰρ παθόντος τι πολλοὺς εἶναι τοὺς στρατηγήσοντας Αἰτωλῶν, Φιλίππου δ’ ἀπολομένου κατὰ τὸ παρὸν οὐκ εἶναι τὸν βασιλεύσοντα Μακεδόνων). Regardless of the veracity of this exchange of words, monarchy, as a constitution dependent on the rule of one man, is revealed to be more vulnerable than other constitutions in regard to succession. The perils of rival claimants to the throne are also strewn throughout the Histories (e.g. Antiochus and Achaeus, Ptolemies VI and VIII, Antiochus V and Demetrius I of Seleucia) but also openly expressed once again by Philip in a fragmentary speech to his sons, warning them against sibling rivalry and discord. Such behaviour, he states, causes the destruction not only of the rivals, but also of their life, children, and cities (23.11.2: οὐ μόνον σφᾶς ἀπολωλεκότας, ἀλλὰ καὶ βίον καὶ τέκνα καὶ πόλεις ἄρδην κατεστραφότας . . . ). Only by working together with concord, agreement, and mutual respect, as the dual kings of Sparta and the brothers Eumenes and Attalus did, could they preserve their kingdom and even increase its power (23.11.4–7). To Polybius, therefore, monarchy was fragile because of the impact of one man’s character on the nature and fortune of the kingdom and because of the often-fraught issue of succession. Alongside the other factors offered by Welwei and Dreyer (Achaean bias, tyche, theories of kingship and tyranny, and the preestablished ‘characteristics’ and ‘tasks’ required of a good king), this perception of fragility contributes to the way that the kings in the Histories are portrayed, as we will see below. Such a view of kingship correlates with his wider view that singular politeiai were more volatile and vulnerable to changes than mixed constitutions (6.18.7–8), as well as his increasingly pessimistic view of human reason and man’s potential for excellence. All in all, Polybius thought the ‘great man’, and particularly in the form of a singular leader, unsuitable for sustainable rule and, moreover, an inappropriate way of viewing history.

⁶⁰ This is explicitly reinforced in Book 9 when Polybius claims that Philip V is said to have acted wickedly when advised by Taurion and Demetrius (of Pharus), but gently when advised by Aratus and Chrysogonus (9.23.9: Φίλιππος δ᾽ ὁ βασιλεύς, ὅτε μὲν Ταυρίων ἢ Δημήτριος αὐτῷ συμπράττοιεν, ἦν ἀσεβέστατος, ὅτε δὲ πάλιν Ἄρατος ἢ Χρυσόγονος, ἡμερώτατος).

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Predecessors: Philip II and Alexander the Great The predecessors of Philip V (and other contemporary Macedonian kings such as Antiochus III and Ptolemy IV) who appear in the Histories are generally viewed far more positively than their successors. We have already seen that this was the case with Antigonus Doson in Chapter 1, however this is also frequently true of others who appear (often only briefly) in the narrative. Of those mentioned, Philip II and Alexander have a disproportionately significant presence in the narrative despite not being alive during the timeframe of the Histories.⁶¹ They represent excellent leadership even in the second century  (cf. 8.10.8–10), inform ideas about good kingship, and are held up explicitly as contrasts to Philip V and Perseus as the exemplary founders, rather than destroyers, of the (Argead and Antigonid) Macedonian kingdom (22.18.10; cf. 5.10.10).⁶² Philip II is held up more frequently as a figure for emulation than Alexander by Polybius since he exhibits, in the historian’s mind, more concretely and consistently the two sets of qualities needed for good leadership and the establishment and maintenance of empire: military prowess and the ability to generate goodwill through diplomatic skill and fair treatment of the defeated, his subjects and allies (cf. 3.4.4–11 for these two sets of principles). At 5.10.1–5, Polybius compares Philip V’s behaviour at Thermum with that of Philip II after the battle of Chaeronea and claims that the latter clearly demonstrated not only military success and the ability to subjugate his opponents, but also leniency and humanity in his treatment of the Athenians after the battle. He dismissed the Athenian prisoners without ransom and sent them back home with clothes, paid for the last honours of the Athenian dead, and entrusted the bones to Antipater to convey back home, and thereby gained, Polybius claims, the Athenians’ hearty cooperation in his subsequent ventures (5.10.4–5).⁶³ This episode holds prime place in Polybius’ understanding of Philip II since it is mentioned three more times in the narrative at 9.28.4, 18.14.13–14, and 22.16.2–3, and in the last is once again used to exclaim how the current men in power no longer imitate such behaviour but vie in anger and thirst for vengeance with their enemies, suppressing their magnanimity and humanity.⁶⁴ Similar characteristics are highlighted in Philip II’s treatment of Sparta at 9.33.10 when he decides not to devastate Laconian territory and humiliate the city despite it being his right as victor, but instead compelled the Spartans and the Greeks to settle their differences by a congress and not assuming

⁶¹ Philip II is mentioned or discussed in detail at 2.41.6, 2.48.2–3, 3.6.5, 3.6.12–14, 5.10.1–5, 5.10.10, 8.9–11, 9.28.1–7, 9.33.2–10, 18.14, 22.16.2, and 22.18.20. ⁶² See Millar (2006) 95–104 for Polybius’ focus and grounding in fourth-century  history. ⁶³ Cf. Walbank HPC I 548. For Chaeronea, see also Diod. 16.84–8; Just. 9.3–4; Plut. Alex. 9.2. ⁶⁴ Cf. Plb. 18.3.4–8 for a similar criticism of the proclivity of contemporary kings to destroy the land and crops of disputed territory.

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himself the right of judging their disputes, appointing a court of arbitration selected from all the Greek states instead. The extreme positivity of Philip II’s image is brought to greater heights in Polybius’ vehement attack on Theopompus’ remarks about Philip’s character.⁶⁵ Theopompus proclaims Philip II was incontinent about women, so addicted to strong drink that he was frequently seen by his friends drunk in broad daylight,⁶⁶ wicked and mischievous in forming friendships and alliances, and to have enslaved and betrayed a large number of cities (Plb. 8.9.3–4). His court, Theopompus claims, was home to the most debauched and brazen-faced characters in Greece or abroad, full of spendthrifts, drunkards, gamblers, and manwhores, more beastly in nature than centaurs (8.9.7–13). Polybius takes strongly against this criticism for its inconsistency and inaccuracy and states instead that: ‘not only would one be wary of accusing them of moral weakness, effeminacy, and shamelessness, but on the contrary if someone devoted themselves to write an encomium about them it would hardly be possible to speak adequately about their bravery, industry, and in general the excellence of these men, who, by their efforts and daring, indisputably raised Macedon from the smallest of kingdoms to the greatest and most glorious of empires’ (8.10.5–6).⁶⁷ Later at 18.14.1–4, Polybius equally defends those Greek leaders who joined Philip (Cercidas, Hieronymus, and Eucampidas in Arcadia, Neon and Thrasylochus, the sons of Philiadas, in Messene, Myrtis, Teledamus, and Mnaseas in Argos, Daochus and Cineas in Thessaly, Theogeiton and Timolas in Boeotia) and calls them saviours of their country, while criticizing Demosthenes for bringing disaster upon Athens by his resistance (18.14.13–14; cf. 12.12b.3). Finally, Philip II is noted to have expanded the power and territory of a number of Peloponnesian cities, notably Messene, Megalopolis (Polybius’ hometown), Tegea, and Argos, after subduing Sparta (18.14.7). While Philip II’s reputation was a matter of dispute among the Greeks (note, for instance, the opposite views offered at 9.28–33), Polybius’ own view was that he was a benefactor to the Greeks, a perspective influenced by political and personal reasons, alongside hindsight and the distance of two centuries.⁶⁸ While Polybius holds Philip II as the greatest king for his military skill and ability to generate goodwill, Alexander is also noted for his brilliance and almost super-human military feats and conquests (12.23.5: ὃν πάντες μεγαλοφυέστερον ἢ

⁶⁵ Cf. Walbank HCP II 80–7. ⁶⁶ For Philip II’s reputation for heavy drinking, see also Dem. 2.18–19 and Diod. 16.87. Cf. Eckstein (1995b) 285–9 for Polybius and alcohol consumption. ⁶⁷ Plb. 8.10.5–6: . . . ἀλλὰ τοὐναντίον μήποτ᾽ ἐγκωμιάζειν ἐπιβαλλόμενος οὐ δυνηθῇ καταξίως εἰπεῖν τῆς ἀνδρείας καὶ φιλοπονίας καὶ συλλήβδην τῆς ἀρετῆς τῶν προειρημένων ἀνδρῶν: οἵ γε προφανῶς ταῖς σφετέραις φιλοπονίαις καὶ τόλμαις ἐξ ἐλαχίστης μὲν βασιλείας ἐνδοξοτάτην καὶ μεγίστην τὴν Μακεδόνων ἀρχὴν κατεσκεύασαν. ⁶⁸ Cf. Walbank HCP II 85.

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κατ᾽ ἄνθρωπον γεγονέναι τῇ ψυχῇ συγχωροῦσιν; cf. 12.22.5).⁶⁹ He too occupies a significant amount of space in the Histories,⁷⁰ a large portion of which appears in the historian’s polemic against Callisthenes’ military knowledge in Book 12 (12.12b, 12.17.2–6, 12.18.11, 12.19–22, 12.23.3–7). Like Polybius’ treatment of his father, Alexander’s portrayal often centres around one particular episode: his assault on Thebes (4.23.8, 5.10.6–8, 9.28.8, 9.34.1, 38.2.13). While Polybius recalls the event in his critique of Philip V’s actions at Thermum and here notes Alexander’s restraint and piety for taking care not to damage any religious property, it is described as a particularly harsh punishment on all other occasions.⁷¹ At 4.23.8, for example, Philip V is encouraged by some of his advisers to make an example of the Spartans for their wavering loyalty as Alexander had done the Thebans, that is by destroying their city. In the end, he treats the Spartans leniently as his predecessor, Antigonus Doson, had done since they had not harmed the Symmachy and passes over the incident with only a warning against similar behaviour in the future (4.23). Alexander’s razing of Thebes is again mentioned in a speech by Lyciscus at 9.28.8 where Alexander is said to have destroyed the city because he saw in it a little spark of the old rebelliousness of Greece. (The counter-argument to this speech does not deny the severity of the punishment, but instead reminds the audience of all the benefits that Alexander bestowed on the Greeks afterwards; 9.34.1–3.) Finally, in Book 38, Polybius recounts the misfortunes of the Greeks throughout history and Alexander’s attack on Thebes is once again brought up. Here Polybius claims that everyone pitied the Thebans for the cruel and unjust treatment they suffered, and no one attempted to justify this act of Alexander (38.2.13–14: ἀλλὰ τότε πάντες ἠλέουν μὲν τοὺς Θηβαίους ὡς ἄδικα καὶ δεινὰ πεπονθότας, διεδικαίου δὲ τὴν πρᾶξιν ταύτην οὐδεὶς). Despite the memory of this episode which seems to have stuck in the minds of the Greeks, Alexander is still viewed positively throughout the Histories as a man larger than life who has achieved gigantic success and co-founded and brought to greatness the Macedonian empire. His leadership and particularly military prowess, while acknowledged as harsh and unstoppable, are not under question and held up for emulation. Alexander’s successors until Antigonus III Doson receive only limited treatment in The Histories and generally appear in references to past events in order to explain the situation in the narrative or in speeches where the beneficial nature of Macedonian treatment of the Greeks was disputed.⁷² Yet, the view presented of ⁶⁹ Walbank HCP II 378 notes that this phrase was conventional and does not have any connection with Alexander’s deification. ⁷⁰ Plb. 2.45.1–2, 3.6.3–5, 3.6.14, 3.59.3–5, 4.23.8, 5.10.6–8, 5.10.10, 8.10.7–11, 9.28.8, 9.34.1–8, 10.27.1–3, 12.12b, 12.17.2–6, 12.18.11, 12.19–22, 12.23.3–7, 16.22a, 18.3.4–8, 22.18.10, 29.21.1–4, 38.2.13. ⁷¹ Cf. Walbank HCP II 548. For this event, see also Arrian Anab. 1.7–9. ⁷² For Antipater, Antigonus I Monophthalmus, Ptolemy I, Demetrius I Poliorcetes, and Cassander, see 1.63.7, 2.41.1–3, 2.41.10, 4.1.6, 5.67.4–8, 9.29.5–6, and 18.3.5–7. For Antigonus II Gonatas, who appears in a bit more detail in the narrative of the preliminary Book 2, see 2.43.4–44.3 (Aratus’

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them is contradictory. While at 8.10.8–10 (Polybius’ attack of Theopompus’ critical treatment of Philip II and his court) Philip and Alexander’s co-operators and friends are said to have achieved great things, won marvellous battles, exposed themselves to extraordinary toil, danger, and hardship, maintained their physical powers and morality after acquiring wealth and resources, and proved themselves to be kingly men by virtue of their magnanimity, self-restraint, and courage, this greatness seems to only have existed while under Philip and Alexander (βασιλικοὶ καὶ ταῖς μεγαλοψυχίαις καὶ ταῖς σωφροσύναις καὶ ταῖς τόλμαις ἀπέβησαν, Φιλίππῳ καὶ μετ᾽ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ συμβιώσαντες). Their treatment of the Greeks after Alexander’s death is viewed more critically: Antipater for his harsh treatment of the Greeks after Lamia, his hubris and lawlessness (ὕβρεως ἦλθε καὶ παρανομίας), and dispatch of exile-hunters to catch anyone who offended the royal family (9.29.1–6); Cassander, Demetrius I Poliorcetes, and Antigonus II Gonatas are criticized for installing garrisons in Greek cities and planting tyrants in them so as to enslave the Greeks (ὧν οἱ μὲν φρουρὰς εἰσάγοντες εἰς τὰς πόλεις, οἱ δὲ τυράννους ἐμφυτεύοντες οὐδεμίαν πόλιν ἄμοιρον ἐποίησαν τοῦ τῆς δουλείας ὀνόματος).⁷³ It should be noted, of course, that this criticism appears in a speech by the Aetolian Chlaineas in his attempt to dissuade the Spartans from allying with Philip V, and the severity of these claims will undoubtedly be heightened for rhetorical effect; they are brought up again at 2.41.10 with far less heat. Unsurprisingly, there is little assessment of the characters and conduct of the successors or their roles in the history of Macedon or the Mediterranean until Antigonus III Doson as Polybius is focused on the years and rulers contained within the timeframe of his work. The latter, as Philip’s direct predecessor, however, as we saw in Chapter 1, receives more extensive treatment since he is part of the events recorded in Book 2 and develops a personal relationship with Aratus of Sicyon. His portrayal is tainted by Polybius’ political leanings and the need to reassure the Greeks, and particularly the Achaean elite, that the relationship between Macedon and the Achaean League, forged under Aratus’ leadership, was in the League’s best interests at the time. Antigonus, therefore, comes across as a reasoned and intelligent man. Despite evidence of opposing views, what we find in Polybius’ portraits of Philip V’s predecessors is an overarching positivity and less of a concern for both praise and blame or evaluative treatment. Their image is still influenced by Polybius’ Achaean perspective and the relationship each king had with the Greeks and particularly the Peloponnesians. In this category, however, Philip II and Alexander stand large as simplified and static examples of ‘great men’ embodying the brilliance of leadership from the more

wresting of Corinth from Gonatas), 2.45.1–2 (his alliance with the Aetolians), and Demetrius II Aetolicus, Philip V’s father, see 2.44.1–3 (summary of his ten-year rule, war with Aetolia and instalment of tyrants) and 20.5.3–6 (submission of the Boeotians to Macedon). ⁷³ For Macedonian garrisons and tyrants in the Peloponnese, see Shipley (2018) 97–126.

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distant past. The same episodes illustrating this behaviour (Philip II’s treatment of the Athenians after Chaeronea and Alexander’s assault on Thebes) reappear periodically and there is little movement in the details and evaluation of their lives.

Contemporaries: Ptolemy IV and Antiochus III Polybius tells us that Philip V, Antiochus III, and Ptolemy IV, as well as Achaeus, Ariarathes of Cappadocia, Lycurgus of Sparta, and Hannibal Barca, all came to power at roughly the same time, between 222 and 221  (1.3.1–3; 2.70.8–71.4; 4.2; cf. Just. 29.1.8–9). This unusual phenomenon was one of the reasons why he began his history proper at this date as it instigated a new era: ‘since the leaders of all the powers changed completely, the beginning of a new series of events would occur. For this indeed springs forth and usually happens naturally’ (4.2.10).⁷⁴ This statement, and Polybius’ construction of history around it, puts Philip and his contemporaries into an explicit structural association, alongside a constitutional one (monarchy), which might cause us to question the veracity of the historian’s account.⁷⁵ Moreover, the narrative of the early years of the first three listed kings is intimately woven throughout Books 4 and 5, only emphasizing their connection and the fact that Polybius did not see kings as acting in isolation. While there are also clear differences in their treatment, Polybius presents Philip, Antiochus, and Ptolemy as a trio in a larger group of kings in the Histories and seems to have perceived similarities in the lives of these kings which he found helpful to emphasize not only for his interpretation of events but also for his explanation of why the Hellenistic kings as a whole failed to withstand Rome. In considering Polybius’ portrait of Philip, therefore, and how he fits it into the wider world of the Histories it is important to note that he is from the beginning connected not only with kings as a larger body, but also explicitly with these two contemporaries.

Ptolemy IV Philopator While Ptolemy IV came to the throne at roughly the same time as Philip and Antiochus, he stands slightly apart from the other two in his life and career in the Histories for his lack of activity.⁷⁶ He does not have a character arc taking him from a brilliant youth, successful militarily and diplomatically, to a cruel and degenerate tyrant defeated by Rome, as Philip and Antiochus do. He does not have ⁷⁴ Plb. 4.2.10: οὕτως δὲ τοιαύτης περὶ πάσας τὰς δυναστείας καινοποιίας οὔσης, ἔμελλε πραγμάτων ἔσεσθαι καινῶν ἀρχή. τοῦτο γὰρ δὴ πέφυκε καὶ φιλεῖ συμβαίνειν κατὰ φύσιν: ὃ καὶ τότε συνέβη γενέσθαι. ⁷⁵ See Ager (2003) 47–9 and McGing (2010) 119–27 offer good outlines of these similarities up to Book 5. ⁷⁶ His accession fell between 5 and 16 February 221; Walbank HCP I 291, 564.

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an arc at all, in fact, and his portrait is wholly negative.⁷⁷ In his introduction, Ptolemy IV is openly criticized for not taking responsibility for his kingdom and refusing to follow the good example of his predecessors by neglecting domestic and foreign affairs and the protection of Ptolemaic overseas possessions (5.34.3–9; cf. 5.62.7). Polybius describes him as more interested in love affairs and constant, senseless drinking (διὰ τοὺς ἀπρεπεῖς ἔρωτας καὶ τὰς ἀλόγους καὶ συνεχεῖς μέθας) than kingship and rule, and thereby quickly threatens both his own life and his throne with more than one conspiracy (5.34.10: εἰκότως ἐν πάνυ βραχεῖ χρόνῳ καὶ τῆς ψυχῆς ἅμα καὶ τῆς ἀρχῆς ἐπιβούλους εὗρε καὶ πλείους).⁷⁸ The first of these conspiracies (which is not technically a conspiracy against the king) is that of Cleomenes of Sparta (5.35–9), who was in exile following the Cleomenean War against the Achaean League and who was trying to obtain assistance from the king to regain his position in Sparta.⁷⁹ Ptolemy does not listen to Cleomenes’ pleas for assistance, however, and is described as thoughtless, simple-minded, unconcerned about such matters, and uninterested in looking to the future (5.35.6: οὔτ᾽ ἐφιστάνων [ἐν] οὐδενὶ τῶν τοιούτων οὔτε προνοούμενος τοῦ μέλλοντος διὰ τὰς προειρημένας αἰτίας, εὐήθως καὶ ἀλόγως ἀεὶ παρήκουε τοῦ Κλεομένους). Sosibius, Ptolemy’s adviser, has Cleomenes and his men put under house arrest after they witness the ineffectiveness of the king (5.35.10) and for fear of the Spartan’s good reputation and influence among the foreign mercenaries (5.35.7–39.4). Following an attempt to escape and force the king’s hand, Cleomenes and his men commit suicide (5.39.5). The second conspiracy detailed by Polybius is that of Theodotus the governor of Coele-Syria (5.40), who despised Ptolemy for his licentious lifestyle and general conduct (τὰ μὲν καταφρονήσας τοῦ βασιλέως διὰ τὴν ἀσέλγειαν τοῦ βίου καὶ τῆς ὅλης αἱρέσεως) and who, after receiving no thanks but near assassination for his protection of Coele-Syria, defected to Antiochus III in the Fourth Coele-Syrian War and gave him control of the region (5.61–2, 81).⁸⁰ According to Polybius, therefore, from the very beginning of his reign Ptolemy inspired contempt and weakened the kingdom and the loyalty of its subjects. Ptolemy was, like Philip and Antiochus, also afflicted by a manipulative adviser, Sosibius, who managed the kingdom from the beginning of his reign with his associate Agathocles (5.35.6–7, 63.1).⁸¹ In these early books, little is

⁷⁷ This very negative portrait of Ptolemy IV Philopator by Polybius, which may partly be due to the sources available or the ones he wished to use, has been challenged by scholarship. See e.g. Préaux (1965) 364–75; Mahaffy (1895/2014) 270–5; Walbank (1979) 180–1, 183–4 = (2002) 54–5, 62–4. ⁷⁸ For the dangers of drunkenness in Polybius, see Eckstein (1995b) 285–9. ⁷⁹ For this conspiracy, see also the account in Plut. Cleom. 33–7; and Walbank HCP I 565–9 for Phylarchus’ lost account and a discussion of Plutarch’s sources; Eckstein (1995b) 45–6 for Polybius’ praise of Cleomenes’ personal courage. ⁸⁰ See Grainger (2010) 195–218 for the Fourth Coele-Syrian War. ⁸¹ For Sosibius, see Holleaux (1952) III 47–54 for a fairer view of his achievements; Walbank HCP I 567 and II 23, 480–1.

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explicitly said about Sosibius’ character beyond his actions, which are often cunning and perceptive but ultimately stabilizing for the kingdom. It is not until Book 15, upon his death, that Polybius states that, ‘the pretended guardian of Ptolemy appears to have been “a creature of extraordinary cunning, who long retained his power and caused mischief in the kingdom’ (15.25.1: ὅτι Σωσίβιος ὁ ψευδεπίτροπος Πτολεμαίου ἐδόκει γεγονέναι σκεῦος ἀγχίνουν καὶ πολυχρόνιον, ἔτι δὲ κακοποιὸν ἐν βασιλείᾳ), who killed a number of members of the royal family, including Lysimachus the son of Ptolemy II and Arsinoë II, Philopator’s brother Magas, Philopator’s mother Berenice, Cleomenes III, as well as Philopator’s wife, Arsinoë III (15.25.2; cf. 5.34.1, 36.1, 36.6, 15.25.7–10). McGing has suggested that the episode between Sosibius and Cleomenes parallels the dispute between Aratus and Apelles at Philip’s court and that there is therefore a similar good vs. bad adviser motif to his story.⁸² This is a bit of a stretch, however, as Cleomenes never becomes an adviser to the king nor takes part in the decision-making of his court; he is a victim of court politics rather than an agent conducting them. Another difference between Polybius’ portraits of Philip and Ptolemy is also that once Sosibius is established as the primary administrator of the kingdom Ptolemy almost disappears as an active agent from the narrative between the Cleomenes affair (5.35.6–7) and the preparations for the battle of Raphia (5.82–6).⁸³ While Philip is seen as an independent agent from the beginning of his introduction into the narrative and manages to free himself from the grip of Apelles and his associates, Ptolemy is very much the opposite—an ineffectual figurehead dependent on his advisers. For Polybius, he is hardly the image of an ideal king since he lived an abandoned life entirely devoid of virtue (14.12.3). Unfortunately, the outline of this behaviour is almost entirely lost, and we only have a few fragments at 14.11, reclaimed from Athenaeus 6.251c and 13.756c, hinting at the vulgarity of the Alexandrian court.⁸⁴ The last of these at 14.11.5 (Athen. 13.756c) asserts that Ptolemy Philopator was under the thumb of the courtesan Agathocleia, who enigmatically overturned the whole kingdom (τοῦ δὲ Φιλοπάτορος βασιλέως Πτολεμαίου οὐκ Ἀγαθόκλεια ἡ ἑταίρα ἐκράτει ἡ καὶ πᾶσαν ἀνατρέψασα τὴν βασιλείαν).⁸⁵ We have Polybius’ own comments at the end of this outline of vice and extravagance, however, which indicate that Ptolemy’s narrative has also been treated differently from Philip’s and Antiochus’ in terms of the way that it appears and runs through the Histories (14.12):

⁸² McGing (2010) 118. ⁸³ McGing (2010) 118. ⁸⁴ Cf. Walbank HCP II 434–8 for a discussion of the date and possible concealment of Ptolemy IV Philopator’s death, which Polybius’ summary of his life and conduct at 14.11 must have accompanied since Ptolemy V’s accession is recorded in Book 15. On Philopator’s character, see Préaux (1965) 364–75. ⁸⁵ The sister of Agathocles, the eromenos of Ptolemy IV, and probably the priest of Alexander in 216/15 (cf. Just. 30.1.7–1.8, 30.2.2; Strabo 17.795; Plut. Cleom. 33.2). She was allegedly involved in the murder of Arsinoe, Philopator’s queen and sister (15.25.2).

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ἴσως δέ τινες ἐπαπορήσουσι πῶς ἡμεῖς τὰς ἄλλας πράξεις ἁπάσας κατ᾽ ἐνιαυτὸν γράφοντες τὰς καταλλήλους περὶ μόνων τῶν κατ᾽ Αἴγυπτον ἐν καιρῷ τῷ νῦν ἐκ πλείονος χρόνου πεποιήμεθα τὴν ἐξήγησιν. ἡμεῖς δὲ τοῦτο πεποιήκαμεν διά τινας τοιαύτας αἰτίας. Πτολεμαῖος ὁ βασιλεύς, περὶ οὗ νῦν ὁ λόγος, ὁ Φιλοπάτωρ, μετὰ τὸ συντελεσθῆναι τὸν περὶ Κοίλην Συρίαν πόλεμον ἀποστὰς πάντων τῶν καλῶν ἐτράπη πρὸς βίον ἄσωτον καὶ τοιοῦτον οἷον ἀρτίως διεληλύθαμεν. ὀψὲ δέ ποτε βιασθεὶς ὑπὸ τῶν πραγμάτων ἐνέπεσεν εἰς τὸν νῦν δεδηλωμένον πόλεμον, ὃς χωρὶς τῆς εἰς ἀλλήλους ὠμότητος καὶ παρανομίας οὔτε παράταξιν οὔτε ναυμαχίαν οὔτε πολιορκίαν οὔθ᾽ ἕτερον οὐδὲν ἔσχε μνήμης ἄξιον. Διόπερ ὑπέδραμεν οὕτω κἀμοὶ τῷ γράφοντι ῥᾳδίαν ἔσεσθαι καὶ τοῖς ἀναγινώσκουσιν εὐμαθεστέραν τὴν διήγησιν, εἰ μὴ κατ᾽ ἐνιαυτὸν ἐπιψαύων μικρῶν [καὶ] οὐκ ἀξίων ἐπιστάσεως πραγμάτων ἀποδιδοίην τὸν λόγον, ἀλλ᾽ εἰσάπαξ οἷον εἰ σωματοειδῆ ποιήσας τὴν τοῦ βασιλέως προαίρεσιν ἀπαγγείλαιμι περὶ αὐτῆς. Perhaps some will question why, having written about all other events according to each year in parallel, I now present on this occasion a narrative of only Egyptian affairs [217–204] in more length.⁸⁶ I did this for the following reasons. King Ptolemy [IV] Philopator, about whom I am now talking, after bringing an end to the Coele-Syrian war gradually dropped all good qualities and turned to an abandoned life such as I have just described. Some point later he was forced by circumstances into the war [the Thebaid revolt] I have now mentioned, a war in which, apart from the cruelty and lawlessness of the opponents towards each other, neither pitched battle, nor sea-fight, nor siege, nor anything else worthy of memory occurred. Therefore, it occurred to me that my narrative would be easier for me to write and easier for my readers to follow, if I rendered my account not by alluding each year to small events unworthy of halting the narrative, but if I reported once, as it were, a unified picture of this king’s character.⁸⁷

⁸⁶ A manuscript note states that this treatise covered 48 sheets; Walbank (1979) 183 = (2002) 63. This more extensive treatment is paralleled only once in the surviving portion of the Histories, 32.11.1–6, when Polybius recounts the complicated dealings between Athens and Oropus. ⁸⁷ Cf. Walbank HCP II 438–9, especially for his correction of Paton’s translation and Walbank (1979) 183–4 = (2002) 63 for this passage. Polybius’ account of this conflict, probably the so-called revolt of the Thebaid, a native rebellion which broke away from government control between 207 and 186 , is missing; however, extensive papyrological records survive. For this revolt and the surviving evidence, see Pestman (1995) 101–37, and especially pp. 101–5 for the first period when it erupted under Ptolemy IV; McGing (1997) 285–9, 299–310, and particularly pp. 278–83 for analysis of the Polybian passages connected with this event (5.87, 107; 14.12), the problems associated with his chronology, and the identification of this ‘war’ with the revolt of the Thebaid; and see Véisse (2004) 5–26 for a reassessment of the sources (particularly 5–7 for the Polybian passages) and the division of the rebellion into activity in the Delta and activity around Thebes. McGing (2016) 150–2 also argues that Polybius’ statement that ‘apart from the cruelty and lawlessness of the opponents towards each other, neither pitched battle, nor sea-fight, nor siege, nor anything else worthy of memory occurred’ suggests that this conflict should also not be seen as an ordered rebellion, but as a more confused long-term period of instability and guerrilla warfare.

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While Polybius voices concerns which relate to the flow of his narrative and structure, it also emerges from this that Ptolemy’s character and whole life are considered as so deficient and lacking in virtue and action that he sees no reason to weave it into the rest of the history of the Mediterranean. For other historians, the separation of an individual from the course of the narrative would stand as an indication that such an individual deserved separate treatment for the greatness of their life or character. Yet, in the case of Ptolemy IV separation from the interweaving narrative of world affairs is instead a damning criticism of the ineffectiveness of a leader and their lack of involvement in shaping the world.⁸⁸ In Polybius’ account, Ptolemy IV had little to no part to play in the politics of the Mediterranean, was largely inactive at home and abroad, and was responsible for the Thebaid ‘war’ against the native Egyptians (207–186 ) mentioned above, since his arming of 20,000 Egyptians for the battle at Raphia and their subsequent victory encouraged them to mutiny (Plb. 5.107.1–3; cf. 4.65.9).⁸⁹ Philopator, therefore, did not attend to his duties as king and in fact caused unrest in his own kingdom that would continue beyond his death because of short-term thinking.⁹⁰ The separation of the Ptolemaic narrative in the Histories not only, conversely, emphasizes the insignificance of his agency and legacy, but also highlights the deficiencies of his kingship in one sitting. Criticism of his life is not even dispersed throughout a number of books but concentrated in one place and thereby impresses an undiluted image of exceptional negativity on the reader. By its isolation, the message is hounded home that this is not a model of leadership to be imitated. In contrast, Philip, who is heavily involved in the world, is consistently seen throughout the narrative, interwoven among other affairs, and his agency and legacy are therefore shown to be substantial and significant and the changes of his conduct and fortune presented as important for thinking about both kingship and leadership more widely.

Antiochus III Antiochus III has a much closer trajectory to Philip V in Polybius’ Histories than Ptolemy IV, and not just in his early years, but also throughout his career and character development. Frustratingly, Polybius’ account of Antiochus, particularly ⁸⁸ See Walbank (1975) 204–10 = (2002) 319–23 for Polybius’ occasional deviations from his interweaving narrative, noting that the Greek historian recognized that a κατὰ γένος method of composition in some cases had more force and offered greater clarity. Cf. Miltsios (2013) 61–2. ⁸⁹ This was an Egyptian revolt, ταραχή, against the Ptolemies rather than a war despite Polybius’ use of πόλεμον; cf. Pestman (1995) 101–3. ⁹⁰ Pestman (1995) 104–5 indicates that the first Greek offensive against this revolt did not take place until the reign of Ptolemy V when Greeks were forced to flee from Thebes and the indigenous pharaoh Haronnophris came to the throne. For the importance of duty and the duty to act for leaders in Polybius, see Eckstein (1995b) 272–84.

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the thirty years between 217 and his death in 187 , is even more fragmentary than Philip’s and makes any assessment of the Seleucid king’s image in the Histories problematic. The height of his achievements—his recovery of the eastern satrapies in Books 8–11, after which he assumed the title of ‘Great King—is almost entirely lost to us and this campaign is, as Brown once noted, logically where Polybius would have outlined in more detail his evaluation of Antiochus as a king, statemen, and general. With the complete loss of Book 19, and the partial survival of Books 20–1, Polybius’ narrative of the origins and course of Antiochus’ war with Rome is equally difficult to piece together and must be reconstructed using the accounts of Livy and Appian.⁹¹ Any detailed understanding of the Seleucid king’s life in the Histories, as well as how Antiochus fared in Polybius’ estimation, is frustratingly impossible to ascertain, therefore, although certain features and themes can be gleaned from what survives.⁹² Like Philip, Antiochus came to the throne young at about 20 years of age in the summer of 222  and the theme of youth similarly appears in Polybius’ account of him (Plb. 4.2.7).⁹³ Just as the Aetolians are encouraged to initiate a war against Philip because of his age Polybius notes how Antiochus’ youth encouraged Ptolemy IV to neglect foreign affairs and Ptolemaic overseas territories (5.34.3–10: νέων καὶ μόνον οὐ παίδων) and inspired the governors of Media and Persia, Molon and Alexander, to revolt against him (5.41.1: οἳ καταφρονήσαντες μὲν αὐτοῦ διὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν). It is also in these early years that the good vs. bad adviser motif appears in Antiochus’ narrative: the vicious and controlling adviser, Hermeias, allegedly works against the best interests of the king by dissuading him from immediately dealing with Molon and Alexander and instead focusing on the war against Ptolemy; this is in opposition to the advice given by the ‘good adviser’, Epigenes, whom Hermeias immediately takes against (5.41–2, 45, 49–51, 53–6).⁹⁴ Following the execution of Epigenes after the revelation of a forged letter (5.50.10–14), the king’s physician and favourite, Apollophanes, takes up the good adviser role and encourages Antiochus to get rid of Hermeias (5.56). The rivalry between Hermeias and Epigenes, and Hermeias and Apollophanes, is described in very similar terms to that between Aratus and Apelles, and Aratus and Demetrius of Pharus in Philip’s court. The motif is, however, flipped as Philip ⁹¹ Much of Polybius’ account of the Antiochean War can be recovered from Livy’s lengthy account Books 33–8. As Rich (2015) 65–124 has persuasively argued, it is possible to reconstruct certain portions of Polybius’ account of Antiochus’ war with Rome from Appian’s Syriake. Appian consulted Polybius directly for much of this work, and while he often adapted and recast Polybius’ narrative for his own monographic account and interpretation (frequently condensing and distorting chronology, and sometimes making careless mistakes, particularly in naming), he also occasionally reproduced Polybius’ account more fully or accurately even than Livy. ⁹² Brown (1964) 125. ⁹³ Antiochus was 50 in 192 (22.8.1; Diod. 29.2); Walbank HCP I 502, 571; Schmitt (1964) 1–31; McGing (2010) 119. ⁹⁴ For the influence of advisers on Antiochus III and the dispute between Hermeias and Epigenes upon his succession, see Pédech (1964) 232; McGing (2010) 119–22; and Chrubasik (2016) 105–6.

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has two bad advisers working against Aratus, while Antiochus has two good advisers working against Hermeias. Perhaps even more than Philip, the young Seleucid king is restrained in his ability to act independently until Hermeias’ assassination in 220 (5.54.9–56.12–14). Hermeias, like Apelles, was originally appointed by the king’s predecessor, Seleucus III Soter, and represented the last remnants of the latter’s rule (5.41.2). He was therefore a barrier which had to be overcome in order for Antiochus to establish his own authority following his accession. The removal of oppressive advisers appears as a rite of passage in Polybius’ account of both kings. The early years of the two kings also reveal parallels in their activity, character, and successes. The beginning of Antiochus’ reign was equally fraught, with internal rebellion in Media and Persia (222–221; Plb. 5.40–5) and the long-term revolt of Achaeus (221–13; cf. Plb. 4.48–51; 5.40–2, 57–8, 72, 74–8; 7.15–18; 8.15–21),⁹⁵ just as Philip’s was (note Sparta’s wavering loyalty and the Apelles conspiracy from 221 to 218 ; Plb. 4.22–4 and 4.82, 84–7, 5.1–2, 4, 14–17, 26–9). Antiochus too is said to cultivate good and noble qualities in these early years, although to a much lesser extent than Philip, as Polybius only asserts that he demonstrated mildness and wisdom to all (5.54.8–9: ἡμέρως χρώμενος πᾶσι καὶ νουνεχῶς; cf. Philip’s address of the agema at 5.25) in addressing the troops of Molon and Alexander after his victory over the rebels and restores order to Seleucia and the neighbouring satrapies. His rise to greatness takes a bit longer than Philip’s, however, and it is not until his reconquest of the eastern regions of the Seleucid empire between 212 and 204 (Books 8–11) that he is consistently described in exemplary terms. One of the more striking historical similarities between the two, which Polybius no doubt used to create unity, correspondences, and lessons in his narrative, however, is that from 220 the Antigonid and Seleucid kings were both focused on external wars, Philip against the Aetolians, Antiochus against Ptolemy IV in Coele-Syria (5.1.5), both of which also ended in the same year.⁹⁶ While the outcomes of these wars differed—Philip won the Social War (5.103–5), and Antiochus lost the Fourth Coele-Syrian War at the battle of Raphia (5.80–6)— the fact that both ended in 217 marks another curious similarity in the timeline of the kings’ lives. Before the interruption of Book 6, therefore, in Polybius’ account both kings have rid themselves of their troublesome advisers, ended their respective wars, and are about to embark on new ventures. Antiochus would go on to achieve great things in his middle years and surpass Philip in his military conquests and acquisition of territory. Following his defeat at ⁹⁵ For these revolts and Achaeus’ relationship with the Seleucids, revolt against Antiochus III and death, see Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 188–90; Ma (1999) 54–63, who also outlines the epigraphic evidence connected with Achaeus’ and Antiochus’ activities; and Chrubasik (2016) 81–9, and pp. 101–12 for discussion of the motivation behind Achaeus’ usurpation and his image on coinage. ⁹⁶ For the Fourth Syrian War, see Grainger (2010) 195–218.

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Raphia, Antiochus finally captured and killed Achaeus (8.15–21) and then turned to the recovery of the northern and eastern provinces of the empire; in this he was much more successful.⁹⁷ In the first event, Antiochus is said to have been dumbstruck by Achaeus’ unexpected capture and to have wept on realizing how hard to guard against, and how contrary to all expectations, are the changes of events due to tyche (8.20.9–10). Such awareness of the fickleness of fortune is, of course, a crucial part of good leadership. This mirrors similar episodes and sentiments expressed throughout the Histories, but particularly that of the exemplary Scipio Aemilianus in Book 39, who weeps before the burning city of Carthage and fears for the subsequent future downfall of Rome (39.21–2). On his eastern campaign, Antiochus also persuaded Xerxes of Armenia in 212 to accept his supremacy by reconciling his differences with the young man, restoring all his dominions to him and giving him his sister Antiochis in marriage (8.23).⁹⁸ This, Polybius claims, generated much goodwill among the inhabitants of the region, who thought that he had acted in a truly royal and magnanimous manner (8.23.5: δόξας μεγαλοψύχως καὶ βασιλικῶς τοῖς πράγμασι κεχρῆσθαι). Showing off his military prowess, he then forced Arsaces of Parthia in 209 to yield to his supremacy (10.27–31) and defeated Euthydemus I of Bactria in battle in 208  (Plb. 10.49), where, according to Polybius, ‘he fought more brilliantly than any of those with him’ (10.49.9) and gained a greater reputation for courage after losing his horse, receiving a wound to the mouth, and losing several teeth (10.49.14).⁹⁹ After judging Euthydemus kingly, he then offered him a peace treaty and marriage alliance in 206 (11.34.1–10).¹⁰⁰ In 206/5, the king then crossed into the Kabul valley as Alexander had done, traversing the Causasus, descending into India, and renewing his friendship with Sophagasenus (11.34.11–14).¹⁰¹ He received elephants allowing him to raise their numbers in his army to 150, provisioned his men, and then led a short expedition against the Gerrhaeans of the Arabian coast on his return westwards (205/4 ). Polybius claims ‘he made not only the upper satraps subject to his rule, but also the cities by the sea and the dynasts on this side of the Taurus, and, in short, he secured his kingdom, having astounded all his

⁹⁷ For Antiochus III’s anabasis into the eastern parts of the empire, see Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 197–202; Lerner (1999) 45–62; Ma (1999) 63–6; and Chrubasik (2016) 35–7. ⁹⁸ Cf. Walbank HCP II 98 for the date and placement of this episode in the Histories, and Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 190–7 and Lerner (1999) 45–7 for Seleucid activities in Armenia and the renewed control over Commagene exerted by Antiochus III. ⁹⁹ Cf. Coloru (2009) 67 and Chrubasik (2016) 36 for Polybius’ view that the siege of Bactria was one of the big military set pieces of the time, on par with the sieges of Sardis, Carthage, and Corinth. ¹⁰⁰ For Antiochus III’s invasion of Bactria, and his negotiations with Euthyemus and their date in 206, see Walbank HCP II 312; Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 198–9; Coloru (2009) 184–6 and also pp. 66–9 for Polybius’ account of the history of Bactria and his sources; Lerner (1999) 47–52; and Chrubasik (2016) 36, 57–60. See also Kosmin (2014) 66–7 for how this diplomatic agreement shaped Seleucid space and boundaries. ¹⁰¹ For Antiochus’ Indian venture and how it evoked the earlier campaign of Seleucus I in the region; cf. Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 199–200 and Kosmin (2014) 32–7.

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subjects by his courage and industry. For on account of this expedition he seemed worthy of kingship not only by those in Asia, but also by those in Europe’ (11.34.14–16).¹⁰² It was probably because of this campaign that Antiochus assumed the title of ‘the Great’ (megas; cf. Plb. 20.8.1).¹⁰³ In the Histories, therefore, by the mid-200s, like Philip, Antiochus was at the height of his power and prowess, but unlike the Antigonid he was still considered worthy of kingship.¹⁰⁴ In the next year, however, Philip and Antiochus concluded the ‘secret’ pact against the infant Ptolemy V to partition off Ptolemaic possessions (15.20), with the Antigonid claiming the Aegean and Cyrene and the Seleucid Coele-Syria and Phoenica, starting the Fifth Coele-Syrian War in 202 (see Chapters 3 and 5 for further discussion).¹⁰⁵ As we have seen in previous chapters, Polybius criticizes both kings heavily for this agreement, proclaiming them both worse than tyrants since they did not even offer a pretext for this behaviour and behaved like beasts in their ruthlessness, impiety, and greed (15.20.3). While this event marks the culmination of Philip’s bad conduct in Polybius’ eyes, it seems that it was also a turning point in Polybius’ account of Antiochus. Fortune would bring destruction down on Antiochus via the might of Rome as it would Philip in the following years (15.20.5–8). At the end of Book 15, we get one final comment on Antiochus’ character (unfortunately lacking context) which has a striking similarity with the passage describing how Philip acquired his bad qualities with age: ‘King Antiochus seemed at first to be a man who attempted great projects, possessed daring, and was able to accomplish what he set out to do, but as he advanced in years he showed himself much more inferior to his former self and disappointed the expectations of others’ (15.37.1–2: ὅτι Ἀντίοχος ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐδόκει κατὰ μὲν τὰς ἀρχὰς γεγονέναι μεγαλεπίβολος καὶ τολμηρὸς καὶ τοῦ προτεθέντος ἐξεργαστικός, προβαίνων δὲ κατὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν ἐφάνη πολὺ καταδεέστερος αὑτοῦ καὶ τῆς τῶν ἐκτὸς προσδοκίας). The kings, therefore, are both explicitly described to decline in later life, to disappoint their earlier selves and the rest of the world. As two of the most ¹⁰² Plb. 11.34.14–16: δι᾽ ἧς οὐ μόνον τοὺς ἄνω σατράπας ὑπηκόους ἐποιήσατο τῆς ἰδίας ἀρχῆς, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰς ἐπιθαλαττίους πόλεις καὶ τοὺς ἐπὶ τάδε τοῦ Ταύρου δυνάστας, καὶ συλλήβδην ἠσφαλίσατο τὴν βασιλείαν, καταπληξάμενος τῇ τόλμῃ καὶ φιλοπονίᾳ πάντας τοὺς ὑποταττομένους: διὰ γὰρ ταύτης τῆς στρατείας ἄξιος ἐφάνη τῆς βασιλείας οὐ μόνον τοῖς κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖς κατὰ τὴν Εὐρώπην. For discussion of this passage and what kind of action was taken in Asia Minor, see Ma (1999) 65. ¹⁰³ Cf. App. Syr. 1: καὶ μέγας Ἀντίοχος ἀπὸ τοῦδε κληθείς, and 15.61. Walbank HCP I 450–1 and II 316. The title Μέγας is attested epigraphically: OGIS 230 (from Soli), OGIS 746 (Xanthus), OGIS 237 (Iasus), OGIS 240 (Pergamum), IG xi. 4. 1111 (Delos), Welles (1934) 64 (Nysa on the Maeander). All inscriptions, except those from Nysa and Pergamum which are uncertain, are dated after 205. Cf. Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 200; Ma (1999) 73 and appendix 4. ¹⁰⁴ Polybius probably used a pro-Seleucid source from the Seleucid court for most of his account of Antiochus’ eastern campaign; Schmitt (1964) 175–85; Primo (2009) 126–59; Kosmin (2014) 66–7. Chrubasik (2016) 14–15, however, notes that while Polybius did not reject these positive narratives, he also often evoked anti-monarchic tendencies towards current rulers. ¹⁰⁵ For the Fifth Coele-Syrian War, see Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 201–2 and Grainger (2010) 245–71.

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powerful figures in the eastern Mediterranean at the time, this is a damning statement and only reinforces Polybius’ disappointed and pessimistic view of kings and their ability to achieve success and handle it well. After this pact, the Fifth Coele-Syrian War and Philip’s defeat at Cynoscephalae, Antiochus moved north in 197  and captured a number of coastal towns in Asia Minor. Smyrna and Lampsacus then appealed to the Romans for aid, who were already alert to the Seleucid’s intentions to invade Europe (18.39.2–3, 41a, 45.10–11, 47.1–3). It was not until he finally gained a foothold in Thrace (18.49–52) and had received Hannibal at his court as a fugitive and adviser that the Romans fully took notice of his movements (3.11–12).¹⁰⁶ Following encouragement from both Hannibal and the Aetolians, who had become disillusioned with Roman interference in Greece, Antiochus invaded the Greek mainland, landing at Demetrias with 10,000 men in 192, gained the support of the Euboeans and Boeotians (cf. 20.1, 3, 7: Livy 35.42–51; 36.5–6), and as the proclaimed champion of Greek freedom against Roman domination (cf. 20.8.1: τήν τε τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐλευθέρωσιν), waged a four-year war against the Republic.¹⁰⁷ It is possible that Appian was working closely with Polybius’ own commentary when, after encouragement by the Aetolians in 192, he notes that the king was ‘carried away very light-headedly’ (App. Syr. 12: ἠρεθίζετο μάλα κουφρόνως) in prosecuting the war and later was vainly overconfident (App. Syr. 13: μάλα ματαίως ἐθάρρει) in his new alliances (these would prove ineffective and much weaker than indicated by the Aetolians). Such sentiment is certainly reminiscent of Polybius’ frequent warnings against rashness and overconfidence. While Polybius’ narrative is lost for 192, it is likely he would have disapproved, as Livy does, of Antiochus’ decision-making: his disregard of his original plan to send Hannibal to Carthage for reinforcements and then with this support to invade Italy, which was recorded by Livy to have been the one sound plan devised at the start of the war (Livy 35.42–3; cf. App. Syr. 7); his dismissal of Hannibal’s later suggestion to persuade Philip to join their cause and to send himself to Italy (Livy 36.7–8; App. Syr. 14); and his ill-thought-out decision to bury the Macedonian dead at Cynoscephalae which only alienated Philip (Livy 36.8). Like Livy and Appian, Polybius may well have adduced that this rejection of sound policy and exhibition of irrationality was due to jealousy (Livy 35.43.1 and App. Syr. 14).¹⁰⁸ For 191, we also get the remnants of an anecdote preserved by Athenaeus (Athen. X.439c f; cf. Livy 36.11.1–4; Diod. 29.2; App. Syr. 16; Plut.

¹⁰⁶ See Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 210–12, Ma (1999) 84–97, and Grainger (2002) 52–97 for Antiochus III’s movements north and into Thrace after Cynoscephalae, and Ma (1999) 97–102 and Grainger (2002) 120–62 for Rome’s repeated negotiations with Antiochus. ¹⁰⁷ For the war between Antiochus and Rome, see Badian (1959) 81–99; Gruen (1984) 611–71; Kuhrt & Sherwin-White (1993) 210–15; Grainger (2002), particularly 192–327; and Eckstein (2008) 306–41. ¹⁰⁸ Cf. Rich (2015) 87–8.

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Philop. 17.1 and Flam. 16.1) describing Antiochus’ marriage to a young woman from Chalcis, proclaiming him a wine-drinker and fond of getting drunk (20.8.2: οἰνοπότης ὢν καὶ μέθαις χαίρων) and so obsessed with his new bride that he spent the whole winter at Chalcis not giving a moment’s thought to the situation of affairs (20.8.4: διέτριψε τὸν χειμῶνα, τῶν ἐνεστώτων οὐδ᾽ ἡντινοῦν ποιούμενος πρόνοιαν). If this anecdote really does come from Polybius, Antiochus is exhibiting similar negligence of duty to that of Ptolemy IV, and, combined with increasing jealousy and irrationality, is declining sharply in conduct before his conflict with Rome. Following his Thessalian campaign and the rapid Roman advance under Baebius (Livy 36.13–14), Antiochus recognized the false promises of the Aetolians and Hannibal’s sound judgement (Livy 36.15.1–2; Diod. 29.3; Just. 31.6.6; App. Syr.17.74), and met the Romans in battle at Thermopylae, where he was defeated and forced to withdraw to Asia (Plb. 20.8.6; cf. 21.11; cf. Livy 36.16–19, 41.1; App. Syr. 18–20). Hannibal, again in favour and seeming alone of the king’s councillors to have clear foresight, at first succeeded in persuading the king to secure the Chersonese against a Roman crossing, although these operations were quickly abandoned (Livy 36.41, 43.3; 37.31; cf. App. Syr.1, 21). The king is then defeated at the sea battle of Myonnesus and hastily withdraws his garrison from Lysimacheia in 190. He is criticized by Livy, Diodorus, and Appian for this move (Livy 37.31.1–4, cf. 37.36.4; Diod. 29.5; App. 27–8), a view therefore most likely derived from Polybius, who would have decried the withdrawal for its failure to delay the Romans from crossing over into Asia by lengthy sieges.¹⁰⁹ Polybius may equally be reflected in Appian’s repeated claim that Antiochus was always light-minded and swift to change (κουφόνους ἀεὶ καὶ ταχὺς ἐς μεταβολήν), that he panicked as everything turned out contrary to his expectations, and that, ‘a god distracted Antiochus’ judgement, as happens to all when misfortunes crowd in’ (θεοῦ βλάπτοντος ἤδη τοὺς λογισμούς, ὅπερ ἅπασι προσιόντων ἀτυχημάτων ἐπιγίνεται), and that he withdrew irrationally (ἀλογίστως). Such assessments have clear resonances with Polybius’ own wording and concerns about changing character, rational behaviour, and misfortune, and parallel Philip’s own development and loss of reason before his defeat by Rome. In 190, Antiochus, ‘being crushed in spirit and expecting the worse’ (Plb. 21.13.2; App. Syr. 29 also has him blame a god for his ill-fate: καὶ τὰ ἴδια αὑτοῦ ἁμαρτήματα ἐς τὸ δαιμόνιον ἀνατιθεὶς) attempts peace but is prevented and is decisively defeated at the battle of Magnesia ad Sipylum (21.13–15; Livy 37.34–44.2; App. Syr. 30–6). In the treaty of Apamea (188), Antiochus was forced to relinquish all territory in Europe and Asia north of the Taurus, pay the Roman expenses for the war, give up Hannibal among other advisers, and give up twenty

¹⁰⁹ Cf. Rich (2015) 94–5.

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hostages to Rome, similar peace terms that were given to Philip (21.16–17, 42; Livy 37.45.3, 38.38; App. Syr. 39).¹¹⁰ The eastern territories which had been recovered earlier in his reign subsequently declared independence, and he died three years later while trying to recoup losses and pillaging a temple of Bel at Elymais in 187  (Diod. 29.15.1; Just. 32.2). Unfortunately, Polybius’ account of Antiochus’ death, including his obituary, is entirely lost. While the details of Philip’s and Antiochus’ lives varied, Polybius saw and cultivated, it seems, similarities in the trajectory of their lives: young upon accession with internal revolts and conspiracies rippling through the early part of their reigns; rivalrous and destructive advisers who had to be removed to gain independence and authority; military prowess; early mild, sensible, and fair conduct; significant military and diplomatic achievement and success; a later inability to deal well with these successes; subsequent degeneration into irrational, tyrannical, bestial, and nearly barbaric behaviour; the disappointment of expectations; punishment by fortune and defeat by Rome. Philip and Antiochus are pushed into an explicit relationship structurally and thematically on a number of occasions. Yet there are still evident differences in the surviving material of Philip’s and Antiochus’ portraits. In what we have of Polybius’ account of Antiochus, ideas about good kingship similarly influence the way in which the Seleucid king is portrayed, but the Achaean hostility that plagues Philip’s image does not affect the Seleucid’s to the same degree. The Achaean League had far less contact with the Seleucid kings, as Polybius himself mentions at 29.24.12–16 while recording Achaean discussions about whether to send aid to the Ptolemies (VI and VIII) against Antiochus IV’s invasion of Egypt or envoys to encourage peace between them.¹¹¹ Political judgements, therefore, were less likely to affect the image of this king and dynasty in the Histories than that of the Antigonids and the Ptolemies. There is also less evidence for explicitly demarcated stages of development in Antiochus’ portrait, although this may very well be a consequence of the fragmentary nature of Polybius’ account. From what survives, Book 15 and the pact agreed with Philip in 203  mark a negative change in Polybius’ evaluation of the

¹¹⁰ For the treaty of Apamea and the settlement of Asia Minor following these terms, see Walbank HCP III 156–64; McDonald (1967) 1–8; McDonald & Walbank (1969) 30–9; Sherwin-White (1984) 18–27; Errington (1989b) 286–9; Paltiel (1979) 30–41; Ma (1999) 282–3; Grainger (2002) 328–49; Derow (2003) 63–5; and Eckstein (2008) 334–6. ¹¹¹ Cf. Plb. 29.24.12–14: αἵ τε γὰρ βασιλεῖαι συγκρινόμεναι μεγάλην εἶχον διαφοράν: ὑπὸ μὲν γὰρ τῆς Ἀντιόχου σπάνιον ἦν εὑρεῖν οἰκεῖόν τι γεγονὸς καθόλου πρὸς τοὺς Ἕλληνας ἔν γε τοῖς ἀνώτερον χρόνοις: καὶ γὰρ ἡ τοῦ τότε βασιλεύοντος μεγαλοψυχία διάδηλος ἐγένετο τοῖς Ἕλλησιν: ὑπὸ δὲ τῆς Πτολεμαίου τοσαῦτα καὶ τηλικαῦτα τοῖς Ἀχαιοῖς ἐγεγόνει φιλάνθρωπα κατὰ τοὺς ἀνώτερον χρόνους ὥστ᾽ ἂν μηδένα πλεῖον ἀξιοῦν. For there was a great difference between the two kingdoms in comparison: for it was, on the whole, rare to find a close relationship between Antiochus and the Greeks [of the mainland, or the Achaeans] in earlier times at least, for the generosity of the present ruler [Antiochus IV] towards the Greeks was conspicuous; but so great and frequent was the philanthropy of the Ptolemaic rulers towards the Achaeans in former times that no one could expect more. Cf. Walbank HCP III 401.

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Seleucid’s character and conduct from his previous glowing review of his campaigns in the east in Book 14, and may indicate that the historian saw Antiochus’ life as structured in two phases, one ascending and one descending, as Pédech has suggested.¹¹² Yet, it may also be possible to extend this further to three or even four phases if we see his early years under the sway of advisers as separate from his more independent and triumphant middle years, as is the case with Philip’s trajectory: (1) his youth, where he establishes his own authority by suppressing revolts and getting rid of controlling advisers (222–217 ); (2) his rise to brilliance and power from 217 onwards culminating in his campaigns in the east (217–204); (3) his downturn in conduct around 203 BC, interest in Europe, and conflict with Rome (203–188); and (4) his attempt to recover the eastern territories which had rebelled following his defeat (188–187). This is speculation, of course, yet given the parallels between Philip and Antiochus that do survive in the Histories it would not be surprising if these parallels continued. In the Histories, therefore, Philip and Antiochus appear as a pair of kings with similar historical and literary trajectories. Following Antiochus’ defeat by Rome in 189, on a number of occasions they and their wars with Rome are even merged into one phenomenon and referred to in the same breath (cf. 20.7.1; 22.4.4; 24.10.9, 11.4, 13.9), reinforcing the impression that they should be understood as a pair. Antiochus is a more impressive individual than Philip in the Histories, yet he is equally unable to master his own self-control and maintain kingly excellence, and consequently in the same way is unable to overcome the more ‘Hellenic’, resilient, and resourceful Rome.¹¹³ Polybius’ portraits of both Philip and Antiochus, as well as that of Ptolemy IV, therefore, warn against tyrannical and immoderate behaviour in the Histories and contribute to the picture of monarchic weakness and the decline in the resilience of kingship in this period. Philip stands out more for political, moral, theoretical, and structural reasons, however. He is the monarch who represents both extremes of the king–tyrant spectrum in the Histories (cf. Plb. 10.26.7–8), his image is more politically loaded and affected by Polybius’ Achaean perspective, and he also initiates the symploke, the interweaving process of east and west resulting in Rome’s supremacy, at the

¹¹² Pédech (1964) 238. ¹¹³ Brown (1964) 125 once distinguished the Seleucid from Philip in the Histories by claiming that ‘The importance of Antiochus in Polybius’ scheme of things becomes evident: Antiochus’ spectacular achievements in the East serve to balance those of Rome in the West. This was the intended climax of his history, because after Magnesia there was no longer any one power capable of measuring itself against Rome.’ Yet, this statement goes too far in singling out Antiochus and the Romans’ war against him as more significant than others in Polybius’ interpretation of Rome’s rise to power. Antiochus was only one great leader among many others in the context of the Histories and Polybius sees Rome’s wars with Hannibal, Philip, and Antiochus as all leading on from each other (3.32.7) and all part of the process of Rome’s rise. It is difficult to see, therefore, how any of these wars could be the climax of the history, and especially as it is Perseus’ defeat and the destruction of the Antigonid kingdom in 167 , which concluded the original 30-book plan, that signified in Polybius’ mind the full establishment of Roman power (3.1.9, 3.8).

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conference of Naupactus in 217 , and ends it by bringing about the destruction of the Antigonid kingdom through his son, Perseus, in 167 .

Successors: Perseus (& Eumenes II) While Philip V’s predecessors are drawn in generally positive terms and Philip and his contemporaries (Antiochus and Ptolemy) with a downward trajectory in the Histories, those who came after him are portrayed as increasingly incompetent, greedy, and subservient. Despite its fragmentary nature, this is clearly demonstrated by Polybius’ portrait of Philip’s son, Perseus, although he is said to exhibit some kingly qualities at the beginning of his reign and has significant structural importance.¹¹⁴ His defeat, Polybius believed, represented the final establishment of Roman might in the Mediterranean and ended not only the symploke initiated by his father (5.105.4–8), but also the era of Hellenistic kings (3.3.8–9). Unlike his father who begins on a bright and hopeful note, Perseus is maligned even before his accession in his quarrel with his younger brother, Demetrius (see Chapter 5 for further discussion). In Book 23, he is described as ‘much inferior to him [Demetrius] in all respects both in natural ability and in acquired accomplishments’ (περὶ τἄλλα πάντα καθυστερῶν καὶ τῇ φύσει καὶ τῇ κατασκευῇ) and is said to fear losing the throne to him because of the latter’s good relationship with the Romans. Perseus then corrupts Demetrius’ friends (23.7.5–7: διὸ τούς τε φίλους ἔφθειρε τοὺς τοῦ Δημητρίου) and, according to Polybius, eventually persuades Philip to execute him (23.3.6–9, 7.4).¹¹⁵ However, more moderate, and even positive views of Perseus are presented upon his accession, and we see the beginnings of a downward arc in his character, similar to, if more rapid and severe, than his father’s. The new king is able to renew the Macedonian friendship with Rome,¹¹⁶ courts favour with the Greeks (ἑλληνοκοπεῖν),¹¹⁷ and reconciles the differences and

¹¹⁴ For Perseus and the Third Macedonian War, see Walbank (1940) 252–4; Meloni (1953); Hammond & Walbank (1988) 488–557; and Burton (2017). Cf. also Pédech (1964) 224–7: his depiction in Polybius. ¹¹⁵ Polybius may have been influenced by a biased source from the Macedonian court for this rivalrous relationship; cf. Dreyer (2013a) 209–12. ¹¹⁶ Cf. Livy 40.58.9; 41.19.6; 42.25.4, 10, 40.4, 41.9–11, 46.3; 44.16.5; 45.9.3; App. Mac. 11.5–6; Zon. 9.22.2; Diod. 29.30. Polybius saw Perseus’ confirmation of friendship with Rome as carried out in bad faith (22.18.2), yet this view should be taken with caution; cf. Meloni (1953) 70–2 and Walbank HCP III 275. Hammond & Walbank (1988) 492–493, 601–10, against the sources, argues that the renewed amicitia was not a formal treaty but rather an informal relationship. The treaty referred to in Appian probably refers to the peace treaty struck with Philip at the end of the Second Macedonian War (cf. Gruen (1973) 123–36; Walbank HCP III 275; Dmitriev (2011) 188–9). ¹¹⁷ The word ἑλληνοκοπεῖν is used in a different pejorative sense by Polybius at 20.10.7, where Glabrio mocks the Aetolian Phaineas for ‘playing the Greek’ (Walbank HCP III 81, 275). Goukowsky

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tensions that had grown between his father and the Macedonian people by recalling exiles, cancelling debts to the crown, and releasing those imprisoned for offences against the royal house (25.3.1–3; cf. Livy 40.58.9).¹¹⁸ Polybius’ impression of the new Antigonid king is, like his father, informed by his Greek perspective as he states that by these actions Perseus aroused the expectations of many, but specifically focuses on the reaction and high hopes of the Greeks rather than that of the Macedonians (25.3.4: . . . δοκῶν καλὰς ἐλπίδας ὑποδεικνύναι πᾶσι τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ἐν αὑτῷ). In this early stage of his reign, the king is said to show in the outward appearance of his life dignity fit for kingship (25.3.5: ἐπέφαινε δὲ καὶ κατὰ τὴν ἐν τῷ λοιπῷ βίῳ προστασίαν τὸ τῆς βασιλείας ἀξίωμα), an appearance of capability, expertise in all useful physical exercise, and in his demeanour gravity and composure beyond his years (25.3.6: κατά τε γὰρ τὴν ἐπιφάνειαν ἦν ἱκανὸς καὶ πρὸς πᾶσαν σωματικὴν χρείαν τὴν διατείνουσαν εἰς τὸν πραγματικὸν τρόπον εὔθετος, κατά τε τὴν ἐπίφασιν εἶχεν ἐπισκύνιον καὶ τάξιν οὐκ ἀνοίκειον τῆς ἡλικίας). He keeps clear of his father’s incontinence as regards women and drink, and not only shows moderation himself in drinking at meals, but his friends do too (25.3.7: ἐπεφεύγει δὲ καὶ τὴν πατρικὴν ἀσέλγειαν τήν τε περὶ τὰς γυναῖκας καὶ τὴν περὶ τοὺς πότους, καὶ οὐ μόνον αὐτὸς μέτριον ἔπινε δειπνῶν, ἀλλὰ καὶ οἱ συνόντες αὐτῷ φίλοι; cf. Athen. X.445d). This outward good conduct encourages the Greeks to expect great things from the new Antigonid ruler and arouses hopes in some that he might rid the Greek world of the brutal and heavy-handed treatment of the Romans (cf. 25.3.4). Perseus, like his father, is initially victorious against Rome in the Third Macedonian War as he wins a cavalry battle at Callinicus in 171  and sues for peace offering to pay the same tribute to Rome as his father did after his defeat and to evacuate the same places (27.8.1–2; Livy 42.56–61.11; App. Mac. 12; Plut. Aem. Paul. 9.2; Just. 33.1.4).¹¹⁹ The Romans, however, just as they had done with Philip in the Second Macedonian War, showed themselves impervious and severe in defeat, refused this offer, and insisted on the complete submission of Macedon to the senate (27.8.5–10). Unsurprisingly Perseus refused and the war continued. The news of this victory, however, brought a flourish of Greek support to Perseus’ cause which Polybius feels he has to defend and justify (27.9.1–10.5).¹²⁰ The historian describes this fresh wave of interest as similar to that when a crowd

(2011) 159–60 and n. 185 argues that the word is used pejoratively here too; Derow (1989) 301 that it contains ‘something of both’ definitions. Burton (2017) 59 n. 12, however, more persuasively argues against such a disapproving usage of it here because of the pro-Perseus tone of the passage. ¹¹⁸ For a detailed discussion of Perseus’ first actions upon his succession to the beginning of the Third Macedonian War, see Burton (2017) 57–64. ¹¹⁹ For the battle of Callinicus, see Meloni (1953) 230–5; Thornton (2014a) 155–7, who also includes a comparison with Philip’s tactics at Cynoscephalae; and Burton (2017) 128–33. ¹²⁰ On this passage, see Gibson (2012) 274–6, who argues that the comparison with games was a good way of diminishing the importance of such sentiments and was shaped deliberately by Polybius to discredit Perseus and allow for a positive reading of Roman involvement in Greece.

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supports the underdog in a boxing match (27.9.2–13): the Greeks were roused, he claims, to the Antigonid king’s side by the unexpectedness of this victory and the seeming appearance of a capable adversary against Rome and not because of any genuine and sensible reason. ‘For if someone had’, he states, ‘asked them frankly if they really would wish to see such power fall into the hands of a single man and to experience monarchic rule unaccountable to anything, I believe that they would very quickly reflect upon it and, changing their tune, undergo a complete reversal of feeling’ (27.10.2).¹²¹ Polybius’ defence of Greek action is, to a large extent, targeted at the Romans since he claims that he speaks at such length ‘about these things so that no one, being ignorant of human nature, may unjustly reproach the Greeks with ingratitude for being in this state of mind at the time’ (27.10.5).¹²² Just as Polybius needed to justify the controversial relationship of the League with Philip, so he also needed to defend those who sided with Perseus, or preferred neutrality (as his own party in Achaea had done) in the Third Macedonian War, to Roman anger. This was, after all, the very reason for his deportation after Pydna. Once again, the League’s controversial relationship with Macedon has a significant effect on the portrait of its kings in the Histories, producing a similar declining character arc from good kingship to tyranny in Perseus as is seen with Philip to justify some of the Greeks’ initial support of him. This arc is, however, much less developed and much shorter in duration than his father’s and suggests that, unlike his father, Perseus only ever gave the appearance of being a worthy adversary of Rome, never actually possessed the good qualities needed for this, and quickly revealed that this was the case. Perseus’ declining character does not openly receive treatment in the surviving material, however, until Book 28 (although even in Book 27 he is defamed indirectly by the negative assessment of those who associate with him and the chaos he causes in Greek affairs). Polybius indicates that Perseus’ presence and opposition to Rome causes even more conflict and divided opinion within the Greek world than Philip’s (note the disputes among the Boeotians, 27.1–2, 5–6, the Rhodians, 27.3–4, 7–8, 14 (cf. Livy 44.14–15), the Epirotes, 27.15, and the Achaean League, 28.62–5; see also 30.6–9),¹²³ and proclaims that those who do end up supporting him are rash and inconsiderate, yielding to insensate and childish excitement (27.2.10: προπετῶς καὶ ἀλογίστως ἑλόμενον τὰ παρὰ Περσέως, εἰκῇ καὶ παιδαριωδῶς πτοηθὲν . . . ). The Rhodians who support the ¹²¹ Plb. 27.10.2: εἰ γάρ τις ἐπιστήσας αὐτοὺς ἤρετο μετὰ παρρησίας εἰ βούλοιντ᾽ ἂν εἰς ἕνα πεσεῖν τὴν τηλικαύτην ὑπεροχὴν καὶ λαβεῖν μοναρχικῆς πεῖραν ἐξουσίας, ἀνυπευθύνου κατὰ πάντα τρόπον, ταχέως ἂν αὐτοὺς ὑπολαμβάνω συννοήσαντας παλινῳδίαν ποιῆσαι καὶ μεταπεσεῖν εἰς τοὐναντίον. Cf. Burton (2017) 133. ¹²² Plb. 27.10.5: περὶ μὲν οὖν τούτων ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον προήχθην εἰπεῖν, ἵνα μή τις ἀκρίτως εἰς ἀχαριστίαν ὀνειδίζῃ τοῖς Ἕλλησι τὴν τότε διάθεσιν, ἀγνοῶν τὰ φύσει παρεπόμενα τοῖς ἀνθρώποις. ¹²³ For details and scholarship on the relationship between Perseus and the Greek states before and during the Third Macedonian War, see p. 172 n. 22.

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king, Polyaratus and Deinon, are boastful and conceited (ἀλαζονικώτερον ὄντα καὶ κενόδοξον), greedy and unscrupulous (27.7.12: φιλάργυρον ὄντα καὶ θρασύν). While the Greek associates of Philip are viewed in a positive light before the war with Rome, this is because a large number of them were part of or connected with the Achaean League in its prime, Philip (and Hellenistic kingship in general) had not weakened or degenerated completely, and the Romans were not yet in the powerful position they would be in the 170s. The latter’s victories over Philip and Antiochus would change this dynamic, however, so that those who sided with Perseus were, in Polybius’ perspective from hindsight, fighting against the odds and reckless in endangering their fellow Greeks. In Books 28 and 29, we see the explicit defamation of Perseus’ character in his negotiations with the Illyrian king, Genthius, his disagreement with Eumenes II, and his defeat at Pydna in 168 . In the first case, in attempting to secure Illyrian support in the war against Rome, Perseus is initially unwilling on multiple occasions to supply the resources and funds Genthius needs to take his side in the war, despite the Illyrian being willing to do so (28.8–9; Livy 43.19.12–20.4, 23.8; Diod. 30.9; Plut. Aem. Paul. 9.6; Dio fr. 66.1; Zon. 9.22.9).¹²⁴ Polybius is unsure whether we should attribute Perseus’ conduct here to thoughtlessness or divinely inspired madness (ἀλογιστίαν ἢ δαιμονοβλάβειαν), although he leans towards the latter, since he believes that men who aim at achieving great things are mad if they neglect the most pressing matter in the enterprise, despite knowing what this is and being able to accomplish it (28.9.4).¹²⁵ While Genthius was eventually offered the necessary money (Livy 44.23), this early reluctance to advance it was seen as a terrible mistake since it not only prevented many more Greeks (perhaps the Rhodians, Livy 44.23.5–6) and kings (Eumenes II and Antiochus IV, Livy 44.24; and the Gallic chief Claudicus, 44.26.8–27.7) from coming over to Perseus’ side (28.9.5–8), but also negated the possibility of either achieving universal power if he had been victorious, or exposing many to the same fate as himself if he had been defeated (28.9.7). Perseus’ reluctance to pay out money worsens into outright avarice in his relations with Eumenes II of Pergamum (29.5–9; cf. Livy 44.25–6).¹²⁶ In Book 29, Polybius describes the relationship between these two kings as a ridiculous ¹²⁴ For the relationship between Perseus and Genthius, see Walbank HCP III 336–41; Thornton (2014a) 165–6, 172–4; and Burton (2017) 69–70, 142, 143–5. ¹²⁵ His negotiations with Genthius and their alliance is confirmed at 29.3–4 (cf. Livy 44.23). Note that Athen. X.440a = Plb. 29.13 also states that Polybius held a negative view of Genthius: ‘. . . he says that Genthius, King of Illyria, because of his intemperate drinking committed many licentious acts in his life, being constantly drunk night and day. Having put to death his brother Plator, who was about to marry the daughter of Monunius, he married the girl himself, and he treated his subjects with great cruelty’ . . . . ὁ αὐτὸς Γένθιόν φησι τὸν τῶν Ἰλλυριῶν βασιλέα διὰ τὴν πολυποσίαν πολλὰ ποιεῖν ἀσελγῆ κατὰ τὸν βίον, νύκτωρ τε αἰεὶ καὶ μεθ᾽ ἡμέραν μεθύοντα: ἀποκτείναντα δὲ καὶ Πλάτορα τὸν ἀδελφόν, γαμεῖν μέλλοντα τὴν Μονουνίου θυγατέρα, αὐτὸν γῆμαι τὴν παῖδα καὶ ὠμῶς χρῆσθαι τοῖς ἀρχομένοις. ¹²⁶ Polybius indicates that some of the information leaked out at the time and some of it was obtained from the friends of Perseus after the end of the war (29.8.10). Cf. Livy 44.24.9–26.2.

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boxing match, with one king known for being most cunning (Eumenes) and the other most avaricious (Perseus: 29.8.2: . . . τοῦ μὲν πανουργοτάτου δοκοῦντος εἶναι, τοῦ δὲ φιλαργυρωτάτου, γελοίαν συνέβαινε γίνεσθαι τὴν διαμάχην αὐτῶν). Eumenes had offered to keep neutral in the fourth year of the Third Macedonian War if Perseus was willing to give him 500 talents, and then 1,500 talents for his intervention and assistance in putting an end to the war (29.8.5). Perseus was willing to send an ambassador to Samothrace with the 1,500 talents to negotiate (29.8.7), however, refused to send the 500 talents claiming that it was shameful for the giver and even more so for the receiver to accept money to keep neutral. Eumenes, like a bad physician (καθάπερ οἱ μοχθηροὶ τῶν ἰατρῶν), was allegedly far more concerned with the ‘retaining’ fee (the initial 500 talents) than the final 1,500 and thereby renounced his efforts, finding it beyond his power to get the better of Perseus’ miserliness with his own cunning (29.8.8: ἀδυνατήσας καταγωνίσασθαι τῇ σφετέρᾳ πανουργίᾳ τὴν τοῦ Περσέως μικρολογίαν). Neither of these two kings, Polybius exclaims, therefore, won the prize for avarice since, like two good wrestlers, they were equal in this contest (29.8.9: . . . ἐπ᾽ ἴσης, καθάπερ ἀγαθοὶ παλαισταί; 29.9.12–13).¹²⁷ ‘Avarice’, he then concludes, ‘is the peg of all evil’ (29.8.10: πάσης κακίας ὡσανεὶ πατταλεῖόν ἐστιν ἡ φιλαργυρία) since it was the reason for both kings’ disagreement and irrational behaviour, and prevents Perseus from obtaining the very support and resources that might have allowed him to confront Rome more successfully or, failing that, conclude a peace with them.¹²⁸ Perseus is also shown to abscond from taking responsibility for his own failures and demonstrates physical cowardice in battle. For the first, Polybius condemns the king for blaming his general, Hippas, for the Roman invasion of Macedonia over the Olympus mountain range and attack on Dium and Tempe in 169, since it was he himself who had recalled his commanders from the mountain passes and abandoned Dium without a fight, fleeing to Pydna (28.10.2; cf. Livy 44.2–7).¹²⁹ ¹²⁷ Livy follows Polybius’ version and criticism of the relations between Perseus and Eumenes very closely, highlighting the king’s avarice and reporting how this also affected his relations with a company of Gallic cavalry that had come to his assistance (44.24–7). Livy 44.13 also indicates that the Romans had very different accounts of Eumenes’ conduct during the war and Valerias Antias stated that he received no assistance from the king, despite writing for it. Eumenes’ brother Attalus, however, showed loyalty and rendered great service to them during the war. ¹²⁸ Cf. Walbank HCP III 369 for Polybius’ imagery here. For the ignobility of avarice in Polybius, see Eckstein (1995b) 70–82, and 73 and 261 for this episode. Burton (2017) 160 notes Polybius’ bafflement and argues that Perseus’ reluctance to expend his treasure came from the same place as his reluctance to risk his phalanx in the first three years of the war despite being close to victory: he was not a bold risktaker like his father. ¹²⁹ Plb. 28.10.2: ἀλλά μοι δοκεῖ τὸ μὲν ἐπιτιμῆσαι τοῖς ἄλλοις εἶναι ῥᾴδιον καὶ συνιδεῖν τὰς τῶν πέλας ἁμαρτίας, τὸ δ᾽ αὐτὸν πράττειν τὰ δυνατὰ καὶ γνῶναι τὰ καθ᾽ αὑτὸν πάντων δυσχερέστατον. ὃ καὶ περὶ τὸν Περσέα συνέβη γενέσθαι. But it seems to me to be an easy thing to blame others and to see the faults of our neighbours, while the most difficult thing of all to do everything possible and to know one’s own situation. And this is how it was for Perseus. For the Roman invasion of Macedonia and Perseus’ flight, see Burton (2017) 147–53. Cf. Walbank, HCP III 342 for identification of this Hippas as Hippas of Beroea (cf. 27.6.2; Livy 42.51.4).

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Moreover, Perseus’ cowardice in this instance, Livy expands, makes the consul Quintus Marcius’ otherwise reckless plan to cross into Macedonia look like a carefully calculated act of daring (44.6.4). The Macedonian king shows similar physical cowardice at the final fight of the war, the battle of Pydna in 168.¹³⁰ Polybius notes that although it was Perseus’ one determination to conquer or to die in this conflict his courage gave way and, exhausted by toil and time like that of athletes in bad condition (καθάπερ οἱ καχεκτοῦντες τῶν ἀθλητῶν), he turned rein and fled (29.17.3–4, 18.1; cf. Livy 44.37.13, 42.1 and Plut. Aem. Paul. 19).¹³¹ According to Polybius, at the crucial point of his fight against Rome, therefore, Perseus could not demonstrate bravery, one of the essential virtues for a leader, and thereby lost his kingdom and brought about the destruction of Macedon. According to Livy’s account, which derives from Polybius’, prior to his final defeat Perseus had also lost the use of his judgement and was incapable of forming plans (44.2.12: ut obtorpuisse inops consilii videretur), had been blinded by the suddenness of danger (44.6.17: caecata mens subito terrore), and shown himself to be foolish and cowardly for his panic and retreat in withdrawing from Dium (44.7.1: in stultitia et segnitia hostis). Perseus’ impulsive and panicky behaviour was, moreover, revealed to all (44.6.2 and 44.10) following the descent of the Romans into Macedonia (44.5.12) when he had ordered his treasure at Pella to be thrown into the sea and his navy at Thessalonica to be burnt. Later, he is said to have regretted these orders and was only saved by the fact that the burning of the ships had been delayed by Andronicus and almost all the treasure was able to be retrieved by divers managed by Nicias. He was so ashamed by his fright, however, that he then ordered the messengers and divers to be executed so that no one would know about his earlier insanity (44.10.1–4).¹³² The last mention of Perseus in the Histories in Book 29 reinforces his connection with his father and the interconnectedness of the Antigonid, Seleucid, and Ptolemaic kingdoms. After recounting Antiochus IV’s submission to the Roman demand to halt his invasion of Egypt (29.27.1–8; cf. 29.2), Polybius outlines how Fortune had by this event prevented and set right the desperate situation of Egypt by bringing about the defeat of Macedon, for had Perseus not been decisively ¹³⁰ For the battle of Pydna and Perseus’ flight, see Walbank HCP III 378–91, and 378–9 for sources and bibliography; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 547–57; Thornton (2014a) 175–7; and Burton (2017) 158–70. ¹³¹ Polybius story of Perseus’ early withdrawal is to be viewed with suspicion; cf. Walbank HCP III 390. Plut. Aem. Paul. 19.4, 7–10 also reports, and seems to prefer, a different reason for Perseus’ departure from the battle reported by Posidonius: that he had been kicked on the leg by a horse the day before and was then injured in battle by a javelin grazing his left side. Meyer (1909) 802–3 and De Sanctis (1923) 326 try to combine Polybius’ and Posidonius’ versions; Pareti (1953) 92 n. 2 rejects both versions; Hammond & Walbank (1988) 557 accepts Posidonius’ and Meloni (1953) 385 rejects it. Burton (2017) 169 n. 159, probably rightly, notes that ‘the battle lasted such a short time that any withdrawal by Perseus before it was over may have seemed premature in retrospect’. ¹³² Cf. Diod. 30.11; App. Mac. 16. McDonald (1981) 250 and Briscoe (2012) 498 doubt that Perseus had Nicias and Andronicus killed.

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defeated, Antiochus would never have obeyed the Roman ultimatum (29.27.12–13). This refers back to Book 15 where Polybius claims that tyche would later punish Philip and Antiochus for their crimes against men and gods and their joint venture against Ptolemy V in 203  by drawing Roman attention to their activities, restoring the Ptolemaic kingdom, destroying the Antigonid kingdom completely, and the Seleucid dynasty very nearly so (15.20.5–8). We are reminded, therefore, that Polybius thought Philip the instigator of his kingdom’s demise and Perseus its executor. They are a pair, therefore, not only in jointly bringing about the destruction of Macedon, in contrast to Philip II and Alexander who founded and established it as a kingdom and empire, but also for beginning and ending the symploke which unifies the world under the power of Rome. If we expand on this passage further, while Polybius’ condemnation of the Antigonids and Seleucids in Books 15 and 29 may have something to do with the intimate relations between the Achaean League and the Ptolemies in the third and second centuries  (cf. Plb. 24.6; 29.23.8, 24.12), there is also a structural and moral connection here. In the course of Polybius’ interweaving universal history, the fates of these three kingdoms and their kings are consistently intertwined historically and structurally in the course of the narrative. The reader is encouraged not only to see the closely bound interrelatedness of the different rulers and states in the Mediterranean, and thereby acknowledge the complexity of causation and political affairs, but also to conceptualize these three kingdoms as a trio representing the inadequate and disappointing nature of monarchy in the face of Roman power. To conclude: from the little that we have of Polybius’ account of Perseus, it seems that his image is just as influenced by the historian’s Achaean/Greek background, as well as Roman attitudes and dominance, as his father. Polybius assesses the early character of Perseus by drawing out what the Greeks thought of him rather than the Macedonians or Romans and attempts to mollify the latter by claiming that the Greeks who sided with Perseus after Callinicus were reacting impulsively to the unexpectedness of his victory rather than from reason. While his early promise explained this Greek resurgence of support for Macedon, it was also necessary for Perseus to be depicted in negative terms because, like his father, he was the loser in the war against Rome and there needed to be some justification for this end result in a history based on explanations of cause and effect. Showing partiality towards Perseus was also not in Polybius’ best interest, since it was his own ambivalent attitude and policy towards the Romans during this war that resulted in his own exile. We therefore find a similar character arc from good to bad in Perseus’ life, justifying the direction of his life and defeat, as we see in Philip V and Antiochus III. Yet, despite this similarity in their portraits, Perseus is never shown to be as powerful as Philip (or Antiochus), and is even more incapable of effective action.¹³³

¹³³ Cf. Eckstein (1995b) 261.

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While Dreyer’s claim that Polybius viewed Philip’s indecisiveness as a crucial factor in his overall portrait of the king is dubious, this is certainly not the case with Perseus.¹³⁴ Both father and son turn into bad kings but in very different ways: Philip is treacherous and cunning but effective and decisive, while Perseus is avaricious, cowardly, ineffective, and indecisive. Both also ultimately lose to Rome, but for different reasons. While the Romans’ military equipment, resources, and technology gave them a significant and constant advantage in both cases, in Polybius’ view Philip loses to Rome because his treacherous and tyrannical nature lost him the support of his allies, while Perseus’ avarice and cowardice prevented him from securing the support of others in the first place. They are depicted as individuals with their own distinct characters, virtues, and vices, but also as a pair who reinforce Polybius’ view of decline as a natural feature of life and political constitutions, and of the consistent deterioration of monarchy in the third and second centuries . Polybius’ portrait of the other kings of Perseus’ generation supports this point. We have seen that Eumenes II is portrayed as avaricious, devious, and reckless in his dealings with Perseus, and he would be humiliated by the senate for suspicions of colluding with the Antigonid and his territory in Asia Minor curtailed (Plb. 29.22, 30.1–3; Livy 45.13.12, 19.1–20.3, 34.10–14; Diod. 31.12–13). This is also the case for Antiochus IV Epiphanes, surnamed ‘Epimanes’ by Polybius, who is ridiculed for his bizarre behaviour, conversations with the masses, craftsmen, and foreigners, for bringing processions of musicians to parties uninvited and astonishing the guests, and for walking around the agora in a toga as if a Roman candidate for office (26.1a–1). He too suffers from the same inability to be consistent, steadfast, just, and honourable as the other kings (29.26) and ultimately submits to Roman demands (29.27.1–10). In terms of the Ptolemies, after Ptolemy V’s death in c.180  Ptolemy VI Philometor is shown to demonstrate kindness, persistence, and bravery (28.20.11–13, 21.5), however, dynastic disputes quickly erupt between himself and his younger brother Ptolemy VIII Euergetes following the Sixth Coele–Syrian War (Plb. 29.23.1, 31.10, 17–20, 33.11; Livy 44.19, 45.11–13; Diod. 31.1, 15a.,18, 17c, 23) which weakens the state of the kingdom in the 160s and 150s even further and only highlights once again the weaknesses of monarchy and succession.¹³⁵ The rule of Ptolemy VIII is also likened to a tyranny by the Cyreneans (Plb. 31.18.14: θεωροῦντες οὐ βασιλικήν, ἀλλὰ τυραννικὴν οὖσαν τὴν ἀρχὴν αὐτοῦ καὶ τὴν ὅλην αἵρεσιν . . . ). Polybius’ account of the Macedonian kings, therefore, reinforces the view that kings and kingship are becoming more ineffective in the second century  and

¹³⁴ Dreyer (2013a) 206–8 and Burton (2017) 160. For further discussion of this point, see pp. 246–9 of this volume. ¹³⁵ See also Eckstein (2008) ch. 4 for the weakness of Ptolemaic Egypt from 207  onwards, the power-transition crisis this caused, and the subsequent aggressions of Philip V and Antiochus III. Cf. Grainger (2010) 291–308 for the Sixth Coele-Syrian War.

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the hopelessness of expecting perpetual excellence and success from a single individual on a personal and political level.

Hannibal There are a number of similarities between Philip and Hannibal which make them a profitable pair for comparison. Not only is Hannibal, like Philip, a key player in the process of Rome’s rise to power and intertwined with many of the other key players in the Mediterranean of the third and second centuries, including Philip himself (note their treaty in 215 , Plb. 7.9), but many of the same themes that Polybius uses to depict the Macedonian king equally appear in the portrait of the Carthaginian. He is presented in similar biographical terms, with anecdotes from early childhood and adult life, and his character, psychology, and motivations are discussed and assessed in detail. Moreover, Hannibal appears as the primary agent behind Carthaginian actions in the Second Punic War: the account of the Carthaginians in Spain and in Italy focuses on Hannibal’s personality, military capacities, and actions, and the war is said to be his venture, supported by a more passive Carthaginian state (at 3.8.8–11, Polybius refutes the view that Hannibal undertook the war against the wishes of Carthage), and is even named after him rather than the collective (1.3.2, 3.6, 65.8; 2.37.3, 71.9; 3.1.1, 2.1, 12.7, 28.5, etc.).¹³⁶ Furthermore, it has even been suggested that he represents the ideal monarchic ruler in his obituary in Book 23 (23.13), in comparison to Philopoemen (23.12) and Scipio Africanus (23.14) who represent the corresponding ideal rulers in a democracy and aristocracy respectively.¹³⁷ Unfortunately, Hannibal’s obituary is fragmentary and in what remains Polybius does not refer to him in terms that might suggest such an interpretation, but rather that he represents ‘a man who was by nature capable of (hegemonic?) leadership’ (23.13.1: τῇ φύσει τὸν ἄνδρα τοῦτον ἡγεμονικὸν).¹³⁸ This is an ambiguous statement and could refer to a monarch, a statesman in an oligarchic or democratic regime, or merely a general. If we consider that Philopoemen and Scipio are explicitly stated in the surviving

¹³⁶ Cf. Miltsios (2013) 68–9. Miltsios also notes how all the benefits of the capture of Saguntum are stated from Hannibal’s perspective, not the Carthaginians as a whole (3.17). ¹³⁷ Note McGing (2010) 35. ¹³⁸ Plb. 23.13.1–2: ὅτι θαυμαστόν ἐστι καὶ μέγιστον σημεῖον γεγονέναι τῇ φύσει τὸν ἄνδρα τοῦτον ἡγεμονικὸν καὶ πολύ τι διαφέροντα τῶν ἄλλων πρὸς τὸν πραγματικὸν τρόπον: ἑπτακαίδεκα γὰρ ἔτη μείνας ἐν τοῖς ὑπαίθροις πλεῖστά τ᾽ ἔθνη καὶ βάρβαρα διεξελθὼν καὶ πλείστοις ἀνδράσιν ἀλλοφύλοις καὶ ἑτερογλώττοις χρησάμενος συνεργοῖς πρὸς ἀπηλπισμένας καὶ παραδόξους ἐπιβολάς, ὑπ᾽ οὐθενὸς οὔτ᾽ ἐπεβουλεύθη τὸ παράπαν οὔτ᾽ ἐγκατελείφθη τῶν ἅπαξ αὐτῷ κοινωνησάντων καὶ δόντων ἑαυτοὺς εἰς χεῖρας. It is a marvellous and great indication that this man (Hannibal) was by nature capable of command and far surpassed others in political affairs that he remained in the field for seventeen years, passed through a great many barbarous nations and employed a great many men of different nations and languages to assist him on desperate and incredible ventures, while never being plotted against nor abandoned by those who had once joined him or given themselves to him in submission.

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material to be exemplary leaders in democratic and aristocratic regimes, then it is possible to suppose that Hannibal, as the third individual mentioned here, might represent a monarch-like figure as a general with absolute power in an army or campaign in this comparison. Yet, it would go too far to suggest that Polybius consistently saw Hannibal in the same way that he did the Hellenistic kings. He is generally assessed according to the universal good ‘Hellenic’ qualities of reason, bravery, moderation, piety, and consideration and self-sacrifice for the whole community, which all leaders are in the Histories, and his behaviour is never stated to be kingly or even the opposite, tyrannical. This monarch-like impression, however, as well as the barbarity of the Carthaginians in Polybius, has encouraged modern scholars to compare Polybius’ account of Hannibal with other barbarian kings, Herodotus’ Xerxes and Xenophon’s Cyrus.¹³⁹ These have been fruitful studies, but more for understanding Polybius’ knowledge of historical literature and principles of good generalship, than for Hannibal’s kingly conduct and imagery. There does seem to be some ambiguity in Polybius’ portrait of Hannibal in this regard, however, and alongside the fact that he was an enemy of Rome this makes a comparison with Philip more meaningful. Like Philip, Hannibal is relatively young at 25 or 26 years of age when he is appointed by the Carthaginian senate to chief command in Spain on account of his shrewdness and courage (διὰ τὴν ὑποφαινομένην ἐκ τῶν πράξεων ἀγχίνοιαν αὐτοῦ καὶ τόλμαν) and is unanimously approved without issue by the army despite being young (2.36.3; ὄντι νέῳ; cf. 3.13.3–4; approval from the army is similarly needed for the accession of Macedonian kings). He also exhibits incredible speed and surprises the Romans on multiple occasions by the rapidity of his actions and march on Italy (cf. 3.16.5, 35.3, 40.2, 41.7, 61.1–9). McGing notes a striking similarity in the presentations of Philip’s marches from Thermum to Sparta and Hannibal’s march from Spain to Italy (both also occur in the same year, 218), and concludes that it seems ‘to create a conscious link between Hannibal and Philip’ in these early years before the Macedonian has declined into tyranny and that at this stage the king’s ‘military qualities could still convincingly be aligned with those of Hannibal’.¹⁴⁰ Like Philip too, Hannibal is described as wise and sound on various occasions in his early years as a general: in battle when he puts the river Tagus between

¹³⁹ McGing (2010) 35 observes similarities between Hannibal’s crossing of the Rhône (3.46) and Xerxes’ crossing of the Hellespont in 480 (Hdt. 7.36), and Seretaki & Tamiolaki (2018) 225–40 have attempted to see a direct link between Polybius’ portrait of Hannibal and Xenophon’s portrait of the Persian king. Cf. Champion (2004) 118–21, 148. ¹⁴⁰ McGing (2010) 112–14, cf. 116. See also Moore (2020) 38 for Hannibal’s youthful wisdom and intelligence. Cf. Miltsios (2013) 70–83 for the increasingly interwoven nature of Polybius’ account of Hannibal and Publius Cornelius Scipio in Book 3 to give the impression of simultaneity, while also engaging the reader and creating suspense. This weaving structure of the narrative emphasizes patterns in human nature as Miltsios points out, but also reinforced the connections between leaders and their actions in the context of the Mediterranean.

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himself and the barbaric Carpetani (3.14.5: πραγματικῶς καὶ νουνεχῶς); in his preparations to leave Spain when he instructs his brother on how to govern and resist the Romans while he is away; in his precautions for the security of Africa by exchanging soldiers in Africa with those of Spain and binding the two provinces to reciprocal loyalty (3.33.5); and in his assessment of his enemies’ principles and character (3.81.1: ἐμφρόνως ἐλογίζετο ταῦτα καὶ πραγματικῶς; cf. 3.81) which allows him to exploit the rashness of Tiberius Sempronius at the battle of Trebia (3.73–4) and the overconfidence of Gaius Flaminius at Lake Trasimene (3.80, 83–4). He also exhibits foresight in tackling the hostility of the barbarous tribes of the Alps (3.53) and piety in offering prayers to the gods before crossing the Rhône and honouring the dead after Trasimene (3.43.11–12, 44.13, 85.5). In their early years, therefore, Philip and Hannibal parallel each other in their youthful brilliance, military competence, speed, and good conduct. There are also historical connections between the two which reinforce this parallel and urge the reader to see Hannibal and Philip as one continuous problem in Rome’s progress to supremacy. After the battle of Trasimene in 217 , Polybius notes that Demetrius of Pharus alerts Philip to the Romans’ defeat and encourages him to end the Social War in Greece and look instead towards Italy and the opportunity of conquering territory in Illyria (5.101.3–6). Hannibal’s actions, therefore, inspire a shift in the Macedonian king’s policy. More crucially in 215 , however, Hannibal (and the Carthaginians and their allies) and Philip (and the Hellenic alliance) conclude a treaty offering friendship, protection, and aid to the other against their respective enemies (7.9; Livy 23.33.10–34.1; App. Mac. 1.2). Philip was meant to assist the Carthaginians in their war against the Romans in Italy and was to receive parts of Illyria (Corcyra, Apollonia, Epidamnus) as his spoils in return should Hannibal be victorious.¹⁴¹ Although the Roman version of the treaty preserved by Livy suggests that Philip was meant to invade Italy with 200 warships (23.33.10), Polybius’ verbatim translation of the Punic document has no specific terms of assistance laid out for Philip, just the understanding that the king would give the Carthaginians whatever assistance they requested or mutually agreed upon (7.9.11). In the end, while Philip increases his activity along the Illyrian coast over the next three years to try and gain access to the Adriatic (App. Mac. 1.2; Plut. Arat. 51.1; Zon. 9.4), nothing comes of the joint action against Rome spoken about in the treaty. Philip is at first unable to gain a foothold on the Adriatic coast and forced to burn his fleet at the mouth of the Aous in 214 (Livy 24.40.3–16), and then when he finally does capture Lissus in 212 (Plb. 8.13), he is distracted from more concerted effort against the Romans by the First Macedonian War in mainland Greece. Yet, while nothing came of the

¹⁴¹ For the treaty between Hannibal and Philip, see Bickerman (1944) 87–102 and (1952) 1–23; Chroust (1954) 60–107; Pédech (1964) 102–4; Walbank HCP II 55–6; Barré (1983) for the gods listed; Gruen (1984) 375–7; Mantel (1995) 175–80; Eckstein (2008) 83–6; and D’Agostini (2019) 142–4.

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treaty, it demonstrates the historical interconnectedness of Hannibal and Philip and their conflicts with Rome, something which Polybius highlights and strengthens earlier in the Histories when he asserts that the Roman war against Philip resulted from that with Hannibal (3.32.7: τὸν δὲ Φιλιππικὸν ἐκ τοῦ κατ᾽ Ἀννίβαν). Yet despite the above connections, Philip and Hannibal are in another sense polar opposites in the Histories and quickly start to diverge in their personal trajectories.¹⁴² While Philip is broadly portrayed in a negative manner from 215  (Book 7), representing the villain and a warning against tyrannical, excessive, and irrational behaviour, Hannibal is consistently depicted positively, representing a true ‘great man’ in significance and someone to be emulated for his leadership skills and rational and calculated conduct. In his character sketch of the Carthaginian general in Book 9 Polybius exclaims that ‘Of all that befell and happened to both peoples, the Romans and Carthaginians, the cause was one man and one mind—I speak about Hannibal’ (9.22.1: ὅτι τῶν ἑκατέροις, Ῥωμαίοις φημὶ καὶ Καρχηδονίοις, προσπιπτόντων καὶ συμβαινόντων εἷς ἦν ἀνὴρ αἴτιος καὶ μία ψυχή, λέγω δὲ τὴν Ἀννίβου).¹⁴³ All Carthaginian decisions and actions are shown to come from him alone, and the influence of counsellors is omitted or diminished. He was, allegedly, the one who managed (ὁ χειρίζων) the Italian campaign and directed events in Spain through his brother Hasdrubal, and after him through Mago (9.22.2). Yet he also apparently dictated affairs in Sicily via Hippocrates and Myttonos the African (9.22.4), as well as affairs in Greece and Illyria by his common enterprise with Philip (9.22.5). In Polybius’ mind, Hannibal is the ultimate leader and capable of handling any situation or project: ‘Such a great and wonderful thing is a man and mind suitably fitted by its original constitution to execute any project within human power’ (9.22.6: οὕτως μέγα τι φύεται χρῆμα καὶ θαυμάσιον ἀνὴρ καὶ ψυχὴ δεόντως ἁρμοσθεῖσα κατὰ τὴν ἐξ ἀρχῆς σύστασιν πρὸς ὅ τι ἂν ὁρμήσῃ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων ἔργων). In contrast to Philip’s portrait, in what survives of Polybius’ narrative, there is no evidence for a succession of phases in Hannibal’s character and the Carthaginian’s deeds are generally interpreted in an upward direction.¹⁴⁴ Hannibal is criticized and corrected only once in the narrative of his youth, in his meeting with the Roman ambassadors protesting his attack on Saguntum (3.15.5). Here, in responding to the Romans’ words, ‘Hannibal, being young, full of martial ardour and encouraged by his successes and long-standing enmity of Rome’ (ἅτε νέος μὲν ὤν, πλήρης δὲ πολεμικῆς ὁρμῆς, ἐπιτυχὴς δ᾽ ἐν ταῖς ἐπιβολαῖς, ¹⁴² Cf. Pédech (1964) 223–4 for Philip and Hannibal representing two different types of psychology and individual in the Histories, and Moore (2020) 70 who contrasts Philip’s inability to communicate wisdom to others with Hannibal’s success in doing so. ¹⁴³ Cf. Pédech (1964) 217 and Eckstein (1995b) 242, 254–6, 271 for Hannibal as one of the ‘titans’ in Polybius’ work. See also Moore (2020) 35–69 for Hannibal as a representative of the importance of practical experience. ¹⁴⁴ For Hannibal’s character development and ability to learn through experience, see Moore (2020) 35–69.

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πάλαι δὲ παρωρμημένος πρὸς τὴν κατὰ Ῥωμαίων ἔχθραν) accused them of unjustly putting to death some of the leading men of Saguntum and proclaimed that the Carthaginians would not overlook this violation of good faith (3.15.6–7; cf. 2.36.4, 3.8 and 3.11–12 for Hannibal’s long-standing hatred of the Romans). By these words, Polybius states, he lost control and wholly yielded to irrationality and violent anger (καθόλου δ᾽ ἦν πλήρης ἀλογίας καὶ θυμοῦ βιαίου), taking refuge in irrational pretexts (κατέφευγε δ᾽ εἰς προφάσεις ἀλόγους: 3.15.9) as men who disregard their duty for long-embedded passions. He should have revealed the true cause of his anger—the Romans’ unfair imposition of a heavy indemnity on the Carthaginians (3.15.10)—but instead seemed to be entering into war irrationally and unjustly because of his loss of control (3.15.11: οὐ μόνον ἀλόγως, ἔτι δὲ μᾶλλον ἀδίκως κατάρχειν ἐδόκει τοῦ πολέμου).¹⁴⁵ It was this impulsiveness that was his greatest failing, since it forced him to begin the war too early without sufficient preparation and may have cost him victory (11.19.6–7). Irrationality and impulsiveness are familiar criticisms levelled at Philip, yet this is the only instance of Polybius taking against the Carthaginian’s behaviour and it happens early on in Hannibal’s career; all other assessments of Hannibal’s character and conduct are full of praise and admiration.¹⁴⁶ As Moore notes, Hannibal’s correction of this early mistake is critical to Polybius’ exemplary portrait of the Carthaginian.¹⁴⁷ Before his confrontation with the Roman embassy, Polybius’ Hannibal demonstrates self-restraint by not taking Saguntum and thereby not giving the Romans a pretext for war (3.14.10: ταύτης δὲ τῆς πόλεως ἐπειρᾶτο κατὰ δύναμιν ἀπέχεσθαι). He is assiduous in gathering all possible information about the journey (the landscape, barbarous and friendly peoples, and resources available along the way) from Spain to Italy before he embarks on it (3.34. 3.78.5–79). He is able to traverse the Alps because of his sound practical sense, careful enquiry, and use of guides, and not because of divine assistance as some writers have presumed (3.47.6–9. 3.48.10–11).¹⁴⁸ He is constantly shown to exhibit generosity towards his troops, inspiring goodwill and high hopes in his men (3.13.4, 3.33.5, 3.35, 9.9.5–6), frequently addressing them directly in speech, communicating details of the journey and lands through which they will march, and praising them for their alacrity (3.43.11–12, 54, 60.7, 62–3, 66–7, 77, 85). He attends to their health and ¹⁴⁵ Polybius is influenced by Roman bias here as Hannibal did not make the decision to give this response or go to war alone but had counsellors of state with him (3.20.8). See Eckstein (1995b) 144–5, 255–6 for discussions of youth. ¹⁴⁶ Pédech (1964) 217–19 for Polybius’ construction of Hannibal as a great hero and the problems of this image; contra Eckstein (1989) 1–15, who claims Polybius inevitably judged Hannibal negatively because of this episode. Moore (2020) 38–41 sees this episode as part of Polybius’ wider thoughts on the shortcomings of young and inexperienced leaders, and Hannibal’s correction of this early mistake in later years as critical to Polybius’ depiction of him. ¹⁴⁷ Moore (2020) 39. ¹⁴⁸ For Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps, see Walbank (1956) 37–45 = (1985) 107–19; Brown (1963) 38–46; and Mahaney (2016) 97–105. Cf. Miltsios (2013) 70–3 and Law (2014) vol. 1 for assessments of Polybius’ account of it, and Law (2014) vol. 2 for comparison with Livy’s account.

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condition after their descent of the Alps and the battle of Trasimene (3.87.1–3), and even endures personal hardship alongside them, losing an eye to infection during the crossing of the marshes into Italy (3.79.12). Yet, while Hannibal communicates frequently with his men, Polybius also praises him for not divulging too much of his plans to his officers and thereby giving them opportunities to betray him (8.26; cf. 9.13.1–5 for the importance of secrecy). At Trebia (3.73) and Trasimene (3.84) Hannibal also shows proficiency in perceiving the weaknesses of the enemy (their overconfidence and recklessness) and using this information against them (3.80–1).¹⁴⁹ At the battle of Zama in Book 15, in the same book in which Philip is criticized by the historian for his pact with Antiochus, Polybius exclaims that it would be impossible to find generals (Hannibal and Scipio Africanus) who were more courageous, successful, or more thoroughly exercised in the art of war (15.9.4–5) and despite his defeat, Hannibal did ‘all that could be done by a good general of long experience’ and managed the battle so well that no one could have arranged their forces better for the contest against the Romans (15.15.5–6).¹⁵⁰ When Philip is at his worst, Hannibal is at his best. In Book 11 and later in his obituary in Book 23, Polybius exclaims that there was no better leader than Hannibal for his ability to keep his men unified, obedient, and loyal despite them being of many different nationalities and races, with neither the same law, customs, nor language, for seventeen years (11.19.3–5; 23.13; cf. Livy 28.12.1–9).¹⁵¹ This is leadership able to both acquire and maintain an empire. Hannibal’s plans, moreover, frequently come out as he calculated and expected. For instance, Polybius states that he wisely and skilfully faced the dangers posed by the people of Hermandica in Spain so that everything went as he had calculated and as no one else would have expected (3.14.5: συνέβη τὰ ὅλα παραδόξως καὶ κατὰ λόγον αὐτῷ χωρῆσαι). This is also the case in his crossing of the Rhône (3.43.11–12). Yet, Hannibal is shown to be equally adaptable in his schemes and actions too. In facing the Allobroges in the Alps, he modifies his actions following the reconnaissance reports of his scouts (3.50.7: πρὸς ταύτην τὴν ὑπόθεσιν ἁρμοζόμενος συνεστήσατο πρᾶξιν τοιαύτην) and rebuilds a collapsed path through the mountains (3.54). While trying to relieve his allies in Capua, he changes his plan of assault a number of times in the face of multiple obstacles: following the failure of his attack and Appius Claudius’ reluctance to give battle he marches on Rome to try and force the general’s hand; when he is frustrated from attacking the city by the newly gathered legions around Rome he returns to Capua; and upon ¹⁴⁹ Cf. Miltsios (2013) 100–6 for discussion of Hannibal’s ability of perception and how Polybius’ uses this capability to create suspense in the narrative. ¹⁵⁰ For the location of Zama and the meeting between the generals, see Dorey & Dudley (1971) 143–5 and Lazenby (1978) 218–20. ¹⁵¹ For the difficulty of maintaining the cohesion and morale of an army and Hannibal’s exemplary ability to do so, see Eckstein (1995b) 168–9 and Moore (2020) 46–7, 49, 53, 56–8. For a comparison of Hannibal’s military skill in Polybius with Xenophon’s Cyrus in the Cyropaideia, see Seretaki & Tamiolaki (2018) 225–40.

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finding Appius still unmoved, he destroys Rhegium instead (9.4–7). While the capture of Capua ultimately fails, Polybius proclaims that he was persistent in pursuing his original purpose (9.9.4) as well as adaptable in the face of adversity. The historian even claims that Hannibal’s defeat was not caused by the general himself, nor by any lack of skill as a commander on his part, but rather by tyche who prevented his success (9.8.13-9.1).¹⁵² In the final battle of the Second Punic War, Hannibal is said and shown to be more aware than anyone else of the fickleness of fortune in his meeting with Scipio Africanus before the battle of Zama (15.6.8: ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν ἕτοιμός εἰμι τῷ πεῖραν εἰληφέναι δι᾽ αὐτῶν τῶν πραγμάτων ὡς εὐμετάθετός ἐστιν ἡ τύχη καὶ παρὰ μικρὸν εἰς ἑκάτερα ποιεῖ μεγάλας ῥοπάς; cf. 15.15.4; Livy 30.30–1; App. Lib. 39).¹⁵³ Such an awareness of the changeability of tyche was, of course, one of the chief qualities Polybius believed necessary for good leadership.¹⁵⁴ In contrast, while Philip is adaptable in times of stress and hardship, in Polybius’ mind he also quickly abandons his plan to take Egypt rather than attempting to take it via various other means in 201  (16.10), shows no explicit awareness of the changes of fortune, and pushes his victories too far. The positivity of Hannibal’s portrait is reinforced by Polybius’ problematic refutation of accusations of excessive cruelty by the Romans and avarice by the Carthaginians in a character sketch in Book 9 (22–6). In refuting Hannibal’s savagery, Polybius asserts that men’s natures are more often obscured by circumstances than clarified by them since men are frequently forced to change with circumstances and therefore exhibit dispositions contrary to their real nature. This makes it difficult, he claims, to pronounce an opinion on Hannibal’s real nature, therefore (9.23.4–24.2, 26.10). The Carthaginian was forced to abandon cities, install garrisons, violate treaties, transfer populations, and give up property to plunder because of exceptional circumstances, and equally encouraged to such violent and treacherous behaviour by the influence of friends rather than the predilections of his own character (9.26.1–9). Like Philip, Hannibal is said to be negatively affected by an adviser as Polybius credits the gladiator Hannibal Monomachos with inspiring cruelty in the general (9.24.4–8, 26.8).¹⁵⁵ Yet, Polybius’ preferential treatment of Hannibal and contrasting overly critical treatment of Philip is only heightened when we consider that the Macedonian king is not pardoned for his garrisoning of cities, violation of peace treaties, exchange of populations, plunder of property, or his change in conduct in the face of difficult

¹⁵² For Hannibal’s campaign in Italy, see Dorey & Dudley (1971) 46–95; Lazenby (1978) 87–124; Rawlings (2011) 299–319. ¹⁵³ For the battle of Zama, see Billot (2014) 55–76 for Polybius’ literary construction of the fight and later authors’ adaptation of his scheme; Adema (2018) 293–315 for Livy’s representation of speech at Cannae and Zama; and Moore (2020) 60–7 for Fortune’s defeat of Hannibal and his awareness of the role of tyche in his meeting with Africanus. ¹⁵⁴ Cf. Miltsios (2013) 113. ¹⁵⁵ Cf. McGing (2010) 35–6.

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circumstances and while under the influence of friends in the same way as the Carthaginian. While Philip’s real nature is said to be kingly, and it is acknowledged that he admirably adapts to circumstances after defeat (18.33.4–7; 25.3.9–10), he is instead openly condemned for his treacherous and savage behaviour and for listening to the advice of bad advisers (Demetrius of Pharus, Dicaearchus, Heracleides). Furthermore, in addressing Hannibal’s fondness for money (9.25), Polybius actually agrees with this assessment and defuses the severity of this trait by attributing it to Carthaginians as a whole and gives it only limited attention (one chapter) before moving back to reinforce the damage done to Hannibal’s character by friends and circumstances (9.26). Given how much time he spends criticizing Perseus and Eumenes for their avarice later in the Histories (four surviving chapters; 29.5–9) and his proclamation that greed is the root of all evil (29.8.10), this dismissive treatment of Hannibal’s avaricious nature is again suspicious and only reveals the fact that Polybius has played down this negative element in his character.¹⁵⁶ In understanding the very different treatments of these two enemies of Rome in the Histories, we must also return to Polybius’ Greek and Achaean background. In his defence of Hannibal’s character, there is no suggestion of a Greek view on these matters alongside the Roman and Carthaginian ones, other than Polybius’. As Hannibal only had a limited connection with the Greek world, it is likely that Greek opinion of the general was less coherent or severe and, in some cases, possibly closer to Polybius’ own admiration for his near victory over Rome (for Greek interest in the fate of Carthage, however, see Plb. 36.9). Moreover, the complex political dimension which existed between Philip and the Greeks does not exist with Hannibal and this distance would have allowed Polybius to view the Carthaginian more objectively, if not in better terms. Yet, this difference between Philip and Hannibal may also be credited to the way in which Polybius sees the stages of Roman advancement in the Mediterranean. As was seen in Chapter 4, Polybius thought that it was Hannibal and the Hannibalic War that brought Rome, its constitution, and people to its zenith (6.11.1); in the Second Macedonian War, which Polybius views as resulting from the war with Hannibal, the Romans faced Philip at their best, while Philip had, according to Polybius’ scheme, already degenerated in tyranny, irrationality, and madness. Hannibal and Philip were connected in that they both contributed to Rome’s rise, but they occupied different steps and roles in this process: the former enabled the Romans to reach their acme, the latter demonstrated to the world that they had reached it. While Philip and Antiochus appear as a pair of kings in the Histories because of their parallel and intertwined downward trajectories and their joint contribution to the decline of monarchy, Philip and Hannibal appear as two different types of ¹⁵⁶ Cf. Pédech (1964) 215–16 for Polybius’ embarrassment here and difficulty in defending his exemplary image of the Carthaginian.

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men and leaders. Both had great potential in their youth, both made mistakes, but Philip was unable to turn it into something great and noble, while Hannibal could. They exhibited two different ways of handling success and power: irrationally, passionately, changeably, and impulsively; and rationally, reasonably, consistently, and moderately. Hannibal is one of the greatest men to come out of this period in Polybius’ view and an outstanding general, nearly monarchic in power, who is only prevented from victory by tyche, while Philip turns out to be the worst of kings and brings about the destruction of his state. The Macedonian king is someone whose conduct should be shunned, while Hannibal’s is quite the reverse (cf. 9.9.9–10). Yet, for the Romans, Philip and Hannibal could stand as both triumphs and warnings. Polybius’ picture of Philip exalted them for defeating a powerful eastern king and the most wicked of tyrants, but also warned them against heavy-handed and savage behaviour, demonstrating how such conduct could destroy a state and people. Polybius’ picture of Hannibal also exalted the Romans but to an even greater degree because they are shown to have defeated one of the greatest men in the Histories. He was, however, also a warning against Roman overconfidence and recklessness (note especially the Roman defeats at Trebia, Trasimene, and Cannae), against ignoring how close they came to disaster and the inevitability of changes of fortune. On the other hand, both Philip and Hannibal demonstrate passion and irrationality, if in varying degrees, conforming to what constitutes barbaric behaviour in the Histories, and reinforcing the negative impact that such irrationality plays in any undertaking. This excessive passion, alongside the interference of tyche, is what explains their defeat—Hannibal begins his war with Rome too early because of his passion, and Philip’s excesses bring Rome against him. Hannibal was able to go further in success than Philip, however, because he was less influenced by passion in his later years.

Conclusion This chapter has moved outwards from the narrow focus of the previous chapters, placed Philip V in the broader context of the Histories, and considered what this wider approach means for our understanding of Polybius’ portrait of the Macedonian king, his methodology, and the historical work as a whole. Polybius’ account of Philip’s life, it has been observed, is broadly biographical in its approach, but this is not an anomaly in his working method since the same treatment is evident in many of his depictions of leaders of men (e.g. Aratus of Sicyon, Philopoemen, Hannibal, Scipio Africanus, and Scipio Aemilianus). For Polybius, biographical material was an important component of historiography, and particularly that kind of historiography that focuses on politics and the actions of men. Moreover, knowing and assessing people, their character, conduct,

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successes and failures, and how they contributed to world events, was crucial not only for developing a rational knowledge of the past through the notion of cause and effect, but also for learning how certain characteristics and conduct might help or hinder a life and career; a lesson that would not only encourage the reader to identify and correct their own deficiencies, but also to work more effectively against their enemies (Plb. 3.80–1; cf. Plb. 1.1.1: διὰ τὸ μηδεμίαν ἑτοιμοτέραν εἶναι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις διόρθωσιν τῆς τῶν προγεγενημένων πράξεων ἐπιστήμης). Polybius’ Philip V is an excellent example of a historical individual in the Histories who is treated biographically for such a didactic purpose. His political life is drawn out in detail and specific episodes highlighted and assessed to impart specific lessons about leadership; his life’s trajectory is shaped by an overarching tragic decline and fall in the narrative, offering a more coherent interpretation of his life than the full corpus of historical evidence presented might suggest. Yet, while highlighting a person’s life and actions might be helpful for the reader, in Polybius’ view a good historian must not allow an individual, even a great one, to take over the historical narrative and distort their significance in the shaping of the world, thereby diminishing the import and contribution of other men and forces (cf. Plb. 8.11.3–5 on Theopompus and Philip II). Such an extravagance does not produce an accurate account of the processes of history, and particularly of one so large and important as the rise of a new empire. Monographs, and especially those of singular individuals, offer limited lessons in how the world of politics and interstate relations works, and they are therefore of limited value for a political man trying to understand the enlarged and more complex world of the second century BC Mediterranean. Polybius interweaves, therefore, the lives and actions of leaders into a larger universal history to offer a sense of complexity, simultaneity and synchronicity, impressing upon the reader the fact that these men and events all acted and took place at the same time and were inextricably connected; the readers’ own actions and careers will, similarly, be intricately bound up with the actions and careers of other men and states.¹⁵⁷ In this context, the great leaders and states (even Rome) that may otherwise have had monographic treatises written about them are recontextualized; the giants, therefore, lose their stature somewhat and we are presented with a closer fit with reality. It was for the purpose of observing Polybius’ intention to apportion each individual/state their correct significance in history therefore that Philip’s portrayal was reconfigured into the wider context of the Histories in this chapter. Through it his connections with other historical agents and themes in the narrative (and history to an extent) have been revealed. In Polybius’ mind, Philip is no doubt a key individual in the shaping of the world, but ¹⁵⁷ Cf. Walbank (1974) 59–80 = (1985) 298–312, Crawley Quinn (2013) 337–52, and Miltsios (2013) 58–83 for synchronisms and synchronicity in Polybius’ work.

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he is still just one part of a larger system and ignoring this fact would distort our understanding of the Histories and Philip’s portrait in it. Polybius’ aim to keep the significance of men, states, and events in proportion is accompanied by, and may be in part due to, a pessimistic view of an individual’s ability to achieve and maintain greatness. The fact that kings, as some of the most powerful men in the known world, are shown to be inadequate and failing due to their tendency to fall into excessive and unrestrained conduct is an important contributor to this view. As was seen from the investigation of this chapter, Philip V forms part of this wider trend of monarchic decline, alongside his exemplary predecessors (Philip II and Alexander), his disappointing contemporaries (Antiochus III and Ptolemy IV), and his degenerate successors (Perseus and Eumenes). Such a trend also contributes to Polybius’ argument that the individual, in a similar sense to constitutions, behaved best in a political community where power is distributed among a group of individuals, and where each person who holds power is tempered by institutions, laws, customs, and colleagues (cf. Plb. 6.51.6–7 for Polybius’ preference for aristocratic rule). Crucially, the very best men in the Histories (Aratus of Sicyon and Philopoemen, Scipio Africanus and Scipio Aemilianus, Hamilcar, and Hannibal) are those who work within an aristocratic or moderate democratic context, where they are checked and limited by the sharing of power. The character and conduct of one leading individual in an aristocratic or democratic regime does not have the same extreme consequences for the state as they do in a monarchic one, since there are other men in power who balance out his negative effects. In Polybius’ Histories, therefore, one-man rule is not a sustainable form of government since it is too vulnerable to internal decay and is shown to be consistently defeated by the more resilient mixed, but generally aristocratic regime of Rome. Even Hannibal, who appears almost monarchical and is depicted as a far more outstanding individual than Philip, ultimately cannot overcome the collective strength and resilience of Rome. After the defeat of Perseus and destruction of the Antigonid state in 167 , moreover, kings have limited power in the Histories. Just as Polybius’ multivarious work suggests, therefore, that a monographic approach to history, particularly that focusing on one great man or state, is unhelpful in offering a correct understanding of the past, so it also indicates that monarchy, as a form of government based on the rule of one great man, is incapable of sustainable and good governance. Polybius’ narrative highlights that the time of the great kings had well and truly gone, as honourable monarchs had turned into treacherous tyrants incurring the wrath and hatred of their subjects, who then turned to a state led primarily by its aristocratic element. In the context of the Histories, therefore, Polybius’ Philip conforms not only to the biographical treatment of individuals, but also to the general declining view of kingship and its vulnerability and increasing ineffectiveness in the third and second centuries. He is one part in the whole process of Rome’s rise to power,

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and a part of Polybius’ wider educational programme as an example of how even a great man with innate good qualities could go wrong and bring destruction upon his state and people. Yet, Philip is also unusual in that despite being one of the villains, or warnings against tyranny, savagery, impiety, and excess, he takes up a lot of space in Polybius’ narrative (note Polybius’ general reluctance to give too much attention to disreputable individuals; 2.61.1–3; 15.35.1) and holds the important structuring role of initiating the symploke, with his son bringing about its end. This extra attention reflects the great importance Macedon held in Greek political and cultural affairs, even after the kingdom’s destruction, and highlights the inherent Greek perspective of the work and its author.

Conclusion Polybius’ portrait of Philip V is complex and complicated by his manifold historiographical and political aims, many of which are unrelated to Philip himself or Polybius’ own personal view of him. As modern readers we are also at a greater disadvantage in understanding Polybius’ Philip in full: we are faced with the problems of fragmentary material and the distortions created by the Byzantine excerptors’ selection of episodes more focused on moral concerns. This inevitably skews our perspective of the historian’s assessment of certain episodes, as well as our appreciation of his overall depiction of the king. Yet, despite these difficulties there is still enough surviving material of the Histories to develop a sustained analysis of Polybius’ construction of the king and an understanding of what he was trying to achieve and how. In fact, a close study of Philip V of Macedon in the Histories can tell us a great deal about Polybius and the way that he constructed his work. What is abundantly clear from this investigation is the fact that Polybius’ account of Philip, as well as of Macedonian kings, Romans, and Greeks, is heavily affected by his Achaean perspective. His construction of Philip is centred around the king’s relationship with the Achaean League and its leader, Aratus of Sicyon. The changing nature of this relationship also changes the character of the king in Polybius’ record, and we see a sudden turn from king to tyrant as it deteriorates. This transition is also supported by political theory and follows the conditions of change which take a constitution from kingship to tyranny recorded by Polybius in Book 6. Philip’s turn for the worse is not only staged to occur in Book 7 to align with Aratus’ loss of influence with the king, therefore, but also to proceed from the explanation of political change in the previous book. His decline into tyranny is thereby shown to occur naturally for internal reasons, but also because the external moderating and Hellenic influence of Aratus has been removed and replaced by Macedonian interests and a non-Greek influence, Demetrius of Pharus. Chapter 3 has demonstrated how forced this interpretation of Philip is by exploring the cracks in this picture generated by Polybius’ own narrative and his agenda to create as complete and truthful a historical account as possible. The proclaimed tyrannical and treacherous image of Philip in relation to his Greek allies after 215  is not fully supported by the details of the narrative. He was not as cruel, treacherous, or irrational towards his allies as Polybius makes out in his comments, but rather mindful of his obligations towards them and consistent in his efforts to protect them. This is a view of the Macedonian king that Polybius has

Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories: Politics, History, and Fiction. Emma Nicholson, Oxford University Press. © Emma Nicholson 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192866769.003.0008

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overemphasized, and it becomes ever more evident that Philip’s portrait is highly affected and shaped by political and moral concerns. A study of Philip V of Macedon in Polybius’ Histories, therefore, alerts us to the fact that we cannot take Polybius’ account of the king at face value, and we must try to move past these judgements if we are to uncover a more realistic understanding of the king. Chapters 4 and 5 of this volume delved into this constructed image of Philip in more depth and explored the ideological and tragic elements of Polybius’ work. Chapter 4 revealed how Philip’s change of character and depiction in relation to the Romans are connected to questions of cultural politics and Polybius’ attempt to speak both to power and his own people. The ideas about Hellenicity and barbarity underline Philip’s decline in terms familiar to the Greeks, to legitimize Rome’s takeover as hegemon on the Greek mainland, and to justify the Achaean League’s decision to first ally with Macedon in the third century and then leave this alliance in the second. Philip becomes the barbarous tyrant to be fought against, while the Romans (represented by T. Quinctius Flamininus) take on the role of defender of Greek liberty and autonomy against a barbaric tyrant. Such an exchange in ideological position imposes a sense of coherence on the narrative and inevitability in the outcome of the war. The end of this chapter saw Philip see the error of his ways and a return to more ‘Hellenic’ behaviour following defeat and punishment by the Romans. Chapter 5 then explored the remnants of Polybius’ account of Philip’s last years and the literary and didactic reasons for his use of a tragic mode to end the king’s narrative. This tragic styling might compromise the historical accuracy of Philip’s story even further, yet it is also coherent and consistent with the larger portrait of the king that Polybius wished to tell—that of a brilliant young monarch, so full of promise and ‘Hellenic’ in nature that he could be labelled the ‘darling of the Greeks’, who tragically turns into a cruel and irrational tyrant, and, even after he has changed his conduct again, brings about disaster and destruction on himself and his kingdom. Polybius’ overemphasis on Philip’s turn for the worse, ideological layering, and use of tragic imagery produces unity in his account of the king’s life and career, which makes it particularly useful as a model for instruction. Yet, as we have seen, Polybius’ image of Philip is compromised by the inclusion of material that does not entirely support it. This inconsistency is only a problem, however, if we were to suppose that Polybius was writing history in the modern sense and not pushing the already blurred boundaries of ancient genre to meet his own needs. It can be explained by the fact that he is using biographical methods of presentation to aid his didactic purpose embedded within a historical work, which requires a larger body of material than biography for historical completeness. Polybius’ depiction of Philip may conflict with modern ideas about what constitutes a truthful historical account in its preference for a coherent understanding of a life, therefore, but it works well within the confines of an ancient historical work which is meant to teach its readers how to behave in politics and war, cultivate

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practical and moral characteristics beneficial in these areas, and deal with sudden changes of circumstance and fortune. Clear models of good and bad conduct and leadership, with the consequences they each bring about, are essential for this didactic task, and biographical information and unity make these lessons easier to follow. Complicating the image further, however, is Polybius’ use of both teleology and contingency in his portrait of Philip. This relates to the important topos of Polybius’ conception of time, which has witnessed a flurry of new scholarly interest. While opinions regarding the teleological or contingent nature of his perspective have been various and often at variance with each other, Polybius’ depiction of Philip shows clearly that both are purposefully used to satisfy the multiple aims of his work. The frequent foreshadowing of the king’s and Macedon’s fate creates a sense of teleology, and thus encourages the readers to think about how the beginning and middle of political affairs connect with their end. This not only creates suspense and interest, but also allows a fuller comprehension of the series of events and actions which brought about Philip’s torment and ultimately Macedon’s destruction. The presence of contingency and counterfactual comments at various points in the king’s life, however, also add a feeling of uncertainty about the past, encouraging the readers to think about how things could have gone differently.¹ While Philip was ultimately the loser in the struggle between Macedon and Rome, Polybius was well aware of how close the king came at times to preventing Rome from emerging as the superior power force, and wished to highlight how, if Philip had acted in a different way, or if circumstances had been other than they were, events might have turned out in his favour. This contingent element relates to the fact that we must appreciate Philip’s portrait as one in a world of many others in the Histories. He is certainly a significant player in Polybius’ work—a Hellenistic king, an opponent of Rome, a friend and enemy of the Greeks, the initiator of the symploke and destroyer of the Macedonian empire—but his life and narrative are interwoven with many others and, as we noted in Chapter 6, it would do Polybius a disservice to view Philip’s image and historical significance as completely disconnected from others. Polybius was acutely conscious of keeping everything and everyone in proportion and assigning each man and state their due credit in the process of Rome’s rise. While this distribution of importance was his own interpretation of who was significant and to what degree, there is no escaping the fact that there were many

¹ Counterfactuals are evident in Polybius account of the king, for example, at Thermum when Polybius describes how the king’s reputation could have been improved had he not destroyed religious property (5.9–12), and later after the battle of Lade (201 ; 16.10) when he states that Philip could have expanded and pursued his dreams of universal rule had he continued sailing on to Alexandria as was his original intention. For discussions about counterfactual history in Polybius’ work see Hau (2013) 71–90 and Maier (2013) 149–70. For hindsight and counterfactual history in ancient historiography see Powell (2013).

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men viewed as noteworthy for their role in bringing about Rome’s rise to power in the Histories and for the lessons they could offer the reader. Philip V is just one of these and cannot be fully comprehended in Polybius’ work without acknowledging how his portrait feeds into larger historiographical aims, political views, and literary trends. When seen together with other kings, moreover, Philip contributes to larger thoughts on the effectiveness of kingship, its place in the new world, and the difficulties for men, particularly powerful men, inherent in establishing and maintaining excellence throughout their lives. The picture of Philip that comes down to us is very much that of Polybius’ own making, therefore; political history/biography of a king which speaks to contemporary politics and the historiographical trends of his time. Yet, we might still question how much of this interpretation came from Polybius’ own understanding and shaping of the material, and how much he picked up from his sources. Given the fragmentary nature of Polybius’ work, the scarcity of his source citations, the fact that almost all of those that were cited are now lost (for example, Aratus’ Memoirs, Phylarchus’ history of the Cleomenean War), as well as the general paucity of contemporary material, makes this a difficult question to answer. On this basis, it might be argued that we should be careful in attributing too much to Polybius’ own manipulations and instead give him the benefit of the doubt, and trust that his recording and presentation of material is faithful to the accounts presented in his sources unless there is strong evidence to the contrary. This might include therefore the construction of Philip’s change for the worse in 215 , the acutely negative depiction of his middle and last years, particularly his ventures in the Aegean and the recovery policies implemented from 186 , as well as the tragic mode used in the account of the king’s last years. However, working from the in dubio pro reo principle would suppose that we are judges and not historians in our investigations.² Historians are never straightforward in the way that they present reality. That would amount to an impossible task: some sort of interpretative, artificial framework is always necessary if we are to record historical events in written form, to give them unity and to give purpose to our account. Historiographical agenda, imposition of meaning and order, and perspective all bend neutral events towards a certain direction. In this respect, a sound historical reconstruction is not possible without a thorough analysis of a text’s inherent distortions. Many of these have been revealed in the course of this project, but even Polybius himself is quite open about his own historiographical purpose and universal framework and admits at times to making room for partiality. The Histories are also flooded with polemic against other writers of historical works, analysing and critiquing their codes of construction in terms of truthfulness,

² For the comparison between historians and judges see Ginzburg (1991) 79–92, (1999), and (2002).

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style, research methodologies, and educational intention. Undoubtedly, he would have dealt with the sources he thought appropriate to use with a similar analytical eye. Although truth was crucial to him, he was an astute, critical, opinionated, and sharply focused historian, and could still be selective in the sources that he used, at times choosing them according to his own political allegiances and truth, and how well they fit into his overall framework and aims. Moreover, his bid to educate and explain cause and effect on a universal scale, an endeavour apparently not attempted before for his period of choice, also meant that he had to form his own unique understanding of why things turned out the way they did, and on this basis his own unique understanding of the Macedonian king. This is not to say, of course, that the views on Philip contained in the Histories were purely Polybius’ own creation. Much of the negativity directed at the Macedonian king would also have been informed by Greek and Roman public opinion and the sources that he decided to use. Whether historical accounts, official documentation, or eyewitnesses, these would have primarily come from Achaea, Rome, Rhodes, and post-Antigonid Macedon, all of which would have been hostile to the king at the time of Polybius’ consultation. The brilliance of the king in his early years when aiding Achaea, and his sudden change in 215 , will have been elements noted by Aratus and his associates. However, while it is impossible to determine if these features were stressed by Aratus, one gets the feeling that the importance of this event and the king’s change was narrated with particular emphasis by Polybius. This is implied from his polemic against a number of unnamed historians who praised or undervalued Philip’s actions at Messene (Plb. 8.8), but also more strongly by the fact that this is a pivotal point in the Histories, signifying the first steps in the symploke. Polybius used his other sources for Philip’s later life in a similar way. The onesidedness of the account of Philip’s ventures in the Aegean was undoubtedly influenced by the negative Rhodian and Roman sources he had access to, as well as the general Greek outrage and concern that would have arisen from the king’s ruthlessness in his conquest of the islands and subsequent increase in power. The epigrams of Alcaeus of Messene which depicted Philip as another Xerxes out to enslave the Greeks, as well as Attalid sculpture which connected the Macedonians with giants in the second century, may also have influenced Polybius’ decision to paint the king in more barbaric terms (see Chapter 4). Yet, Polybius draws attention to the injustices felt by Rhodes (13.3–5) without considering a Macedonian or Cretan perspective, and even ignores the fact that these actions could have been conducted in pursuit of Philip’s ambitions of universal dominion. This contrasts strikingly with the historian’s later criticism of Philip’s failure to follow his plans to take Alexandria after the battle of Lade, an endeavour which Polybius deemed a large part of this ambition (16.10). Moreover, the account of Philip’s pact with Antiochus III against Egypt is recorded with more disapproval and concern than it appears was felt at the

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time (15.20) in order to create another significant moment in the narrative—the catalyst for Roman invention in the east. It has correspondingly been argued by Walbank, Pédech, and Dreyer that Polybius most likely used a critical source from the Macedonian court for Philip’s later years.³ This eyewitness, if indeed there was only one, would certainly have wished to dissociate themselves from the defeated kings, and therefore probably fitted in well with the negativity of the historian’s earlier sources. The vividness of the Macedonian people’s suffering and the tragic story of Theoxena undoubtedly found roots in that material. Polybius’ tragic mode, however, was not necessarily a derivative of this Macedonian source as the phrase which described tyche as a director on the stage at 23.10.16 (τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἀναβιβαζούσης ἐπὶ σκηνὴν ἐν ἑνὶ καιρῷ τὰς τούτων συμφοράς) also appears, as discussed in Chapter 5, in another earlier unrelated context: in Thrasycrates’ speech to the Aetolians in 207  at 11.5.8 (τῆς τύχης ὥσπερ ἐπίτηδες ἐπὶ τὴν ἐξώστραν ἀναβιβαζούσης τὴν ὑμετέραν ἄγνοιαν), and similar variants on this theme abound throughout the work.⁴ This parallel thereby suggests that we should be more cautious in attributing this phrase and concept to a Macedonian court source. It could have been taken up from other material, or even been a literary device implemented by Polybius himself, imposed on various historical figures and situations which illustrated examples of reversal and similarities with tragic plot.⁵ Indeed, this concept of tyche as a director of history, bringing about reversals of fortune, as well as raising and destroying empires in cycles of roughly fifty years, was influenced by one of Polybius’ other sources: Demetrius of Phalerum (Plb. 29.21). Yet, Polybius did not take up Demetrius’ notion of tyche without adjustment. He saw the fulfilment of Demetrius’ prophecy concerning the demise of Macedon, which the latter could not have experienced or known about, but also extended tyche’s field of influence, making her responsible for exacting vengeance on immoral and criminal activity. It thereby becomes clear that all of Polybius’ sources, even the ones we do not know about, would have impacted on each other in the historian’s collation and understanding of the material. The ones he used at the outset impacted on the ones used at the end, and vice versa; we should envisage a fluid movement of information, ideas, and attitudes as he actively adapted them to form a coherent unity of explanation. This is consistent with Polybius’ belief that one can only write about the beginning of an affair once one knows its ending, and thereby suggests that his overall interpretation of Philip would have been affected by his weaving together of all his source material with his own historiographical and political aims. This was in fact essential as within the framework of a universal, pragmatic, didactic history, a much grander, more complex, and integrated design

³ Walbank (1938) 65 = (1985) 220, Pédech (1964) 123–39, and Dreyer (2013a) 203–11. ⁴ Cf. Nicholson (2018a) 187–207 for this phrase in Polybius. ⁵ Cf. Walbank’s argument at (1938) 67 = (1985) 222.

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of the king was needed than that provided by the individual sources. Polybius would not have falsified evidence, but he clearly shifted emphasis, omitted certain arguments, subverted others, and drew on the practices of rhetoric, tragedy, and biographical works to create the effects that he wanted. He also included numerous counterfactual comments, and this produced original reflections in support of his didactic purpose. The Philip described in the Histories is therefore, to a large extent, Polybius’ own original interpretation. Through this re-evaluation, the historical Philip comes across as more consistent and rational than some have allowed. The king was perpetually ambitious for conquest (5.101), a trait necessary for a successful Macedonian king, and constantly pushed the boundaries of his kingdom south into Greece, westwards into Illyria, eastwards into the Aegean and Caria, and northwards into Thrace and Dardania. While Polybius’ notion that the king was continually interested in invading Italy might be somewhat forced, his understanding of Philip’s constant pursuit of expansion is correct (5.101). Despite losing his temper on occasion, Philip more often showed strategic and diplomatic intelligence and reasoning in his pursuit of this aim, not shying away from employing ruthlessness and treachery when it suited his needs (7.11.10–12, 11.7.2–3, 13.3–5, 15.20, 15.22–4, 16.1, 22.1.5, 22.13), and for much of his reign was successful in the wars and campaigns he was involved in. Polybius openly talks about his military prowess and energy (4.77, 7.11, 10.41.6–8).⁶ Moreover, Philip was largely dependable in his obligations towards his allies, coming to their aid and protecting them from the enemy without hesitation for as long as he was able. Finally, and most importantly, in all spheres of action Philip was consistently opportunistic and adaptable. Constantly aware of his surroundings, resources, and capabilities, he knew when he could or could not follow through with a plan, when he needed to change tactics, and when he needed to act quickly or wait on events. Polybius himself praises Philip at numerous points for his acceptance of reversals and difficult situations, and his ability to adapt to them with reason and grace (10.41.7–8, 16.28, 18.33, cf. 21.3). It might appear odd and suspicious that Polybius did not make more of this quality, particularly as it is exactly this that he was trying to convey to his audience was necessary for political life. Yet, Polybius may very well have highlighted this important quality in the king in the missing parts of his Histories, something that would certainly be consistent with his practice to illustrate the sudden reversals that can ravage even the most successful of lives. While there was once a perception that any new study of the Macedonian king would be largely unrewarding,⁷ this study has shown that a reassessment of Philip ⁶ Philip’s military prowess is especially evident in the fact that he is at war every year of his reign, and for the most part successfully so. We are, of course, primarily informed of his skill and speed in Polybius’ account of the Social War, which survives in full; however, these features are still evident in the fragments from Book 7 onwards. ⁷ Cf. Sacks (2014) xxxi.

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V’s portrait in Polybius’ Histories is possible, important, and even rewarding both for the study of Polybius and the history of ancient Macedon. It demonstrates that we need to be far more cautious in the way we handle Polybius’ work and that we cannot take his portrait of the Macedonian king, and even his portraits of the Greeks and Romans, at face value. What we have is a picture of Philip V that is heavily influenced by politics, historiographical aims, and didactic intentions; he is the construct of a Greek historian who had witnessed and experienced the dominance of Macedon, not altogether happily, and who needed to understand and explain why such a powerful state could not withstand the rise of Rome. While Polybius did not construct a narrative based on falsehoods, the way that he drew the threads of truth together paints a picture of the king that is to some extent also inescapably artificial.

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Index Locorum For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Aeschylus Pers. 226–46, 434 176–8 Alcaeus of Messene Anth. Pal. 5 and 9.518 8–10, 204 Anth. Pal. 7.247, 9.518, 9.519, 11.12, 16.5–6 9n.20 G-A. 9.518 235n.26 Appian Hist. praef. 22n.75 Lib. 39 322–3 Mac. 1.2 318–19 Mac. 1–3 3n.5 Mac. 4–9 3n.5 Mac. 7 151–2 Mac. 8 165–6, 203 Mac. 9–11 3–4 Mac. 11 234n.18, 308n.116 Mac. 12 309–10 Mac. 13 220n.132 Mac. 16 313n.132 Mac. 17–34 165–6 Syr. 1 303n.103 Syr. 7 304 Syr. 12–13 304 Syr. 14–16 304–5 Syr. 15.61 303n.103 Syr. 17.74 305 Syr. 18–21 305 Syr. 27–28 305 Syr. 29–36 305–6 Syr. 39 305–6 Aristophanes Acharn. 80–3 176–8 Frogs 250–1, 256n.83 Aristotle Poet. 8.1–2, 1451a15 260n.96 Poet. 9.11–12, 1452a1–11 259–60 Poet. 13.3, 1453a8–16 259n.95 Poet. 1450b26–30 254 Pol. 1255a6–8 65n.20 Pol. 1279a16, 1279a32–1279b4 180–1 Pol. 1279b4–7, 16–17 193n.82

Pol. 1284a–1315b 191n.79 Pol. 1285a14–22 176–8 Pol. 1286b22 193n.83 Pol. 1287b36 180–1 Pol. 1295a1–1295a24 193n.82 Pol. 1295a19–23 192n.81 Pol. 1310a39–b14 193n.82 Pol. 1310b40 180–1 Pol. 1310b40–1311a22 193n.82 Pol. 1312b17, 1313a10 193n.82 Pol. 1313a34–1316b27 193n.82 Pol. 1316a17–1316a25 193n.83 [Pr.] 911a2–4 176–8 Rhet. i.15 1376a7 232n.11 Rhet. ii.1 1378a19–22 261n.99 Rhet. ii.21 1395a19 232n.11 Arrian Anab. 1.7–9 112n.29, 293n.71 Anab. 1.26–27 178n.40 Anab. 3.18 70n.35 Athenaeus 6.223b–d 250–1 6.251c 297 13.756c 297 X.439c 304–5 X.440a 311n.125 X.445d 308–9 BNP Coll. 954–5 32n.18 Cassius Dio Fr. 66.1 311 Cicero Leg. 1.5 251n.67 Pro Front. Passim 176–8 Clement of Alexandria Strom. 6.2.19 232n.11 Curtius Rufus 5.7.2–7 70n.35 Demosthenes 2.18–9 292n.66 3.24 166n.5

366

 

Demosthenes (cont.) 9.31 166n.5 10.4 177n.35 10.31–4 166n.5 17.10, 15 108n.14 19.305, 203 166n.5 Diodorus Siculus 1.2.2 251–2 5.26 176–8 16.35 68 16.84–8 291n.63 16.87 292n.66 17.72 70n.35 19.63 65n.18 20.14.4–7 176–8 20.46.2, 100.3 223n.135 20.81.3 134 25.18 8–10 28.1–12 8–10 28.1 131n.73 28.2 130n.72 28.9 130n.72 28.15 8–10 29.2 300n.93, 304–5 29.3 305 29.5 305 29.15.1 305–6 29.16, 25–30 8–10 29.25 156n.152 29.30 308n.116 29.33.1 234n.18 30.5 8–10 30.9 311 30.11 313n.132 31.1 315–16 31.8 8–10 31.12–3 315–16 Dionysius of Halicarnassus Ant. Rom. 1.6.1–5 251n.67 De imit. 426.7 252 Thuc. 15 252 Euripides And. 173 176–8 And. 519–21 232n.11 And. 1243–6 178n.40 Heracl. 1010 65n.20 Phoen. 138 176–8 Suppl. 19, 311, 526 65n.20 Suppl. 399–449 193n.82 Suppl. 860 63–4 FGrHist 81 32n.18 173 272–3 231 31n.15

FRH 46 9n.23 Herodotus 1.1.0 251–2 1.32 241 1.56 166n.5 1.57 119 1.155 232n.11 3.16, 25, 27–38, 73–4, 80, 89 180–1 3.80 193n.82 3.139 157n.155 5.20 166n.5 5.22 166n.5 5.92 193n.82 6.106 65n.19 7.36 317n.139 7.51.3 241 7.133–6 65n.20, 67–8 7.136 65n.19 7.206 65n.19 8.43, 137–9 166n.5 8.144 119 9.78–9 65n.20, 67–8 9.122 119 Homer Iliad 1.334 65n.20 Iliad 1.442–5 65n.19 I. Cret. I, viii, 4 133n.84 I, xxx, 1 133n.84 I. Labraunda 4, 5 and 7 10n.27 I. Magnesia 46 10n.27 47 10n.27 I. Stratonikeia 3 10n.27 IG I 1122 54–5 II 299 54–5 II² 236 108n.14 IX 1, 78 130n.72 IX 1², 2 121n.47 IX 2, 517 10n.27 XI 4, 1111 303n.103 XIV 279 157n.155 ISE 1.46 54–5 Isocrates Evag. 271n.13 Evag. 75 274 Nic. 191n.79 Pan. 50 176–8

  Pan. 159 256n.83 Phil.: 105 185n.69 Phil. 32, 105–12 166n.5 Justin 8.2.3 68 9.3–4 291n.63 9.5.1–6 108n.14 17.2 2n.2 24.1 2n.2 25.1–3 2n.2 26.1–3 2n.2 28.3–4 3nn.3, 4, 8–10 29.1 3–4, 3nn.3, 4, 9n.24, 295 29.1–31 8–10 29.2 86–7 29.2–3 3–4 29.4 144n.120 30.1 297n.85 30.2 297n.85 30.3–4 3n.5 30.4 220n.132 31.6 305 32.2 305–6 32.2–4 3–4, 8–10 33 3–4 33.1 309–10 Livy 21.4.1–3 214n.122 23.33 79, 87n.69 23.33–34 318–19 23.38.7 79 23.34.9 79 24.40.3–16 318–19 26.24 120–1, 159–60 26.24–29 3n.5, 79 27.29–30 121–2 27.30 120n.46, 122–3, 134, 155–6 28.5 124–5, 124n.57, 147n.127 28.6 125 28.7 124–6, 134 28.7–8 125–6 28.8 54–5, 124–6 28.12 320–1 29.12 79, 120n.46, 124n.58, 136n.96, 137–8, 159–60, 216, 220 29.13 214n.122 30.30–1 321–2 31.1–33 3n.5 31.14 139 31.14–15 127–8 31.15 139 31.16, 33,32.5 130n.72 31.17 79–80 31.22 141

31.24 79–80 31.25 142, 183–4 31.26 79–80, 170 31.27 145–6 31.28 143n.113, 147 31.29 169–70, 182 31.30 170, 201–2 31.31 139 31.33 147, 148n.129, 151–2 31.35–40 145–6 31.37–40 206 31.38 145–6 31.39–40 214–15 31.40 145–6 31.41 145–6 31.41–2 146, 209–10 31.44 202–3 31.45 147, 148n.129, 151–2 31.46 126–7, 147 31.49 214n.122 32.4–6 146–7 32.5 125n.60, 130n.72, 143n.113, 146–7 32.5–12 206, 214–15 32.6–12 149 32.7 214n.122 32.13 147, 206, 208 32.13–15 148 32.14 151–2, 200–1, 206 32.15 148–9, 148n.129 32.16 148n.129, 149 32.17 148n.129 32.17–18 149, 206 32.19 143n.113, 149, 152–3 32.19–23 55–6, 149, 152, 156–7, 200–1, 206 32.20–2 201–2 32.21 81–2, 152–3 32.21–3 205–6 32.22 149, 152–5, 175 32.22–23 152–3 32.23 155 32.24 148n.129, 149 32.25 155–6, 202–3 32.32–6 206–7 32.33 135n.95, 148n.129 32 34 135n.95, 148n.129, 179n.45 32.37 125n.62 32.38–39 149–50 33.1–2 156–7 33.3–5 214–15 33.6 215–16 33.6–10 214–15, 243 33.7 215–16, 218n.129 33.8 216 33.9 216–17

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Livy (cont.) 33.10 217 33.14 161 33.14–15 149 33.16 159–61 33.17 160–1 33.20 134 33.27 157 33.27–29 159, 224n.138 33.28 224n.138 33.29 159 33.30 138n.102 33.30–5 220n.132 34.31–2 179n.44 34.32 122n.50 34.35–7 179n.45 34.50 222 35.42–3 304–5 35.43 304–5 35.42–51 304 36.4–38.40 3–4 36.5–6 304 36.7–8 304–5 36.11 304–5 36.13–14 305 36.14 209n.116 36.15 305 36.16–19 305 36.27–29 203n.104 36.28 202–3 36.31 225n.140 36.33–4 229 36.41 305 36.43 305 37.31 305 37.34–44 305 37.36 305 37.45 164nn.1–2, 202–3 38.38 202–3 39.6 224–5 39.24 262–3 39.27 229, 240 39.28 229 39.33–4 229 39.35 3–4 39.48–50 225n.140 39.53 156n.152 40.4–5 230 40.5.1 231n.9 40.5–16 230n.4, 231n.9, 248 40.5–24 231–2 40.9 156n.152 40.16 248–9, 257 40.20 225n.140, 230n.4, 248–9 40.21 230n.4

40.23 230n.4, 246–9 40.24 24, 230n.4 40.40 263n.104 40.54 230n.4 40.56–7 230n.4 40.57 3–4 40.58 209n.116 41.19 209n.116 41.25 234n.18 42.5 234n.18 42.11 3–4 42.12 234n.18 42.13 234n.18 42.25 209n.116 42.40 209n.116, 234n.18 42.41 209n.116 42.46 172n.22, 209n.116, 234n.18 42.48 3–4 42.51 172n.22, 312n.129 42.55 172n.22 42.56–61 309–10 42.59 178–9 43.18 172n.22 43.19–20 311 43.21–22 172n.22 43.23 311 44.2 313 44.2–7 312–13 44.10 313 44.13 312n.127 44.14–15 310–11 44.16 172n.22, 209n.116 44.19 315–16 44.23–24 311 44.24–7 312n.127 44.25–6 311–12 44.31 172n.22 44.37 312–13 44.42 3–4, 312–13 45.9 209n.116 45.11–13 315–16 45.13 315–16 45.19–20 315–16 45.26 172n.22 45.31 5n.10 45.34 315–16 Lucian Eikones 10 252 How to Write History 8–9 250–1, 251n.67 How to Write History 44–6 253n.74 OGIS 230 303n.103 237 303n.103

  240 303n.103 746 303n.103 Papyri P. Col. 4 66 178n.41 Pausanias 1.8.6 223n.135 1.25.2 204 1.36.3 65n.20 6.16.3 54–5 7.8.2 151–4 8.9.1 5–6 8.50.4 144n.120 10.2–3 68 10.28.3 65n.19 Pindar Nem. 4.51–3, 7.38–40 178n.40 Paen. 6.98–121 178n.40 Plato Laws 653–5 256n.83 Prot. 316d2–9 256n.83 Rep. 4.436a 176–8 Rep. 5.471a 66n.21 Rep. 8.566e–67a, 9.573c–80c 193n.82 Rep. 8.565d–566a 195n.87 Rep. 10.606–8 256n.83 Plutarch Aem. Paul. 7–8 8 Aem. Paul. 9.2 309–10 Aem. Paul. 9.6 311 Aem. Paul. 19 3–4, 312–13 Aem. Paul. 23.3 172n.22 Alex. 1 268–9 Alex. 9 291n.63 Alex. 11 65n.19 Alex. 31–33 252 Alex. 38 70n.35 Arat. 2–4 43–4 Arat. 3, 33, 38 31n.14 Arat. 6–9, 12, 20–3 33 Arat. 10 44 Arat. 15, 17–23 48n.64 Arat. 16 125n.62 Arat. 18–23 252 Arat. 33 33 Arat. 33–4 47 Arat. 36–37 47 Arat. 38 32n.18, 35–6, 38–40, 42, 48–51 Arat. 39 38–9 Arat. 41 143n.116 Arat. 43 49n.66, 50–3, 57 Arat. 44 39–40 Arat. 45 39, 53–7, 67–8, 202–3 Arat. 45–46, 47.4 53 Arat. 46 57, 59, 186

Arat. 46–54 8 Arat. 48–9 49n.66 Arat. 49 41n.48, 61, 76 Arat. 49–50 97 Arat. 51 122–3, 195–6, 318–19 Arat. 52 98, 195–6 Artax. 8 252 Cleom. 15–16, 19 38–9 Cleom. 16 54n.76 Cleom. 16–19 31n.14 Cleom. 17 38–9 Cleom. 23 54–5 Cleom. 33 297n.85 Cleom. 33–7 296n.79 De glor. Ath. 347a 252 Dem. 10 223n.135 Dem. 39–40, 51, 53 2n.2 Flam. 1 212n.121, 214n.122 Flam. 5 151–2 Flam. 7 212n.121, 215n.125 Flam. 10–11 220n.132 Flam. 16 223n.135, 304–5 Mor. 53 E 263n.105 Mor. 171c–d 176–8 Pericl. 17 65n.18 Philop. 8 31n.14 Philop. 17 304–5 Philop. 21 175n.32 Pyrrh. 1 178n.40 Polyaenus 5.17.2 130–1 Polybius 1.1 4–5, 19–20, 19n.64, 21, 28n.3, 164, 184–5, 251–2, 272, 324–5 1.2 12, 164 1.3 18–19, 21, 164, 284–5, 295, 316 1.4 21, 23, 164, 267–8 1.6 183n.60 1.7 174 1.8 288n.55 1.9 129n.68 1.14–15 27–8, 30 1.17 183n.60 1.34 174 1.38 183n.60 1.59 183n.60 1.63 293n.72 1.64 183n.60 1.65 316 1.67 178–9 1.70 65n.18 1.81 178–9 2.4 189n.77 2.6–7 28n.3 2.8 65n.18

369

370

 

Polybius (cont.) 2.8–12 189n.77 2.11–12 183n.60 2.12 171–2 2.18–22 183n.60 2.35 28n.3, 178–9 2.36 317, 319–20 2.37 5, 21, 30, 30n.12, 273n.19, 316 2.37–44 183 2.37–71 30 2.38 30–1 2.38–55 178–9 2.38–44.6 178–9, 188 2.39–40 30 2.40 5n.9, 30–3, 31n.14, 42–3, 175n.32, 188, 272–3 2.41 44–5, 181n.53, 291n.61, 293–4, 293n.72 2.41–4 192–3 2.42 30–1 2.43 42–5, 43n.55, 179n.45, 188 2.43–4 49–50, 293n.72 2.43–5 2n.2 2.44 42–5, 49–50, 293n.72 2.45 50, 179n.45, 293n.70 2.45–70 178–9, 179n.45 2.46 179n.45 2.47–50 50 2.47–52 33–4, 49n.66, 129n.68 2.47 32–4, 38, 50n.69, 179n.45 2.48 34, 51–2, 291n.61 2.48–49 34 2.49 34, 179n.45 2.50 34–5, 51–2 2.50–51 50 2.51 44–6 2.51–52 34–5, 50–1 2.52 50–1 2.53 44–5 2.54 50–1, 54–5 2.56 20, 27–8, 28n.3, 31–3, 50–1, 54–5, 261–2 2.56–61 39 2.56–63 30–1, 36–7, 39, 57–8, 232n.13 2.57–8 39–40, 56–7 2.58 40, 40n.45, 65n.18, 68 2.59 192–3 2.59–60 40–1, 44–5 2.60 40–1, 44–5, 50–1, 192–3 2.61 30, 326–7 2.62–3 42 2.64 50–1 2.65 34n.27 2.65–9 50–1 2.65–70 112n.30 2.70 50–1, 202–3, 288n.55

2.70–71 295 2.71 316 3.1 4–5, 164, 253–4, 284–5, 307n.113, 316 3.2 244, 316 3.2–3 4–5, 284–5 3.2–5 244 3.3 4–5, 164–5, 284–5, 307n.113, 308 3.4 4–5, 70, 129n.68, 164, 224–5, 291–2 3.6 68, 267–8, 291n.61, 293n.70 3.7 267–8 3.8 319–20 3.8–11 316 3.11–12 304, 319–20 3.12 316 3.13 317, 320–1 3.14 317–18, 320–2 3.15–11 319–20 3.16 317 3.17 316n.136 3.19 72–3 3.28 316 3.32 307n.113, 318–19 3.33 317–18, 320–1 3.34–5 320–1 3.35 317 3.39 5–6, 6n.15 3.40 317 3.41 317 3.43 317–18, 320–2 3.44 317–18 3.46 317n.139 3.47 320–1 3.48 5–6, 20, 27–8, 320–1 3.50 321–2 3.51 183n.60 3.53 317–18 3.54 320–2 3.59 5–6, 293n.70 3.60 320–1 3.61 317 3.62–3 320–1 3.66–7 320–1 3.73 320–1 3.73–4 317–18 3.77 320–1 3.78–79 320–1 3.79 320–1 3.80–81 317–18, 320–1, 324–5 3.81 267–8, 268n.3, 273–4 3.83–4 317–18 3.84–5 320–1 3.85 317–18

  3.87 320–1 3.118 182–3 4.1c 131–2 4.1 178–9, 293n.72 4.2 3n.4, 4–5, 9n.24, 34–7, 107–8, 164, 295, 295n.74, 300–1 4.3 59n.2, 179n.45 4.3–5 208n.115 4.3–6 87–8 4.5 3n.4, 179n.45 4.6 53–4, 65n.18, 90, 108 4.7 73 4.8 42–4, 200n.99, 276–8 4.9 59, 87–8, 88n.73, 107–8, 146n.125 4.10 108, 184n.67 4.12 90–1 4.13 59, 107–8 4.15 87–8, 111n.26 4.16 88n.73 4.17–21 179n.45 4.19 108–9, 111n.26, 184n.67 4.22 108 4.22–4 111–12, 186, 301 4.23 70, 112, 292–3, 293n.70 4.24 80n.60, 93n.85, 96–7, 184n.67, 187–8, 284–5 4.25 108–9, 109n.21, 112–14 4.26 107–8, 113–14, 116, 186–7 4.26–37 3–4, 179n.45 4.27 73, 186–7 4.29 108–9, 111, 186–7 4.30 129–30, 129n.68 4.31 87–8 4.32–3 87 4.34–6 88n.73, 112n.30 4.36 186–7 4.40 273n.19 4.45–52 134 4.48–51 301 4.53–5 132 4.55 108–9, 111n.26, 132 4.57–87 179n.45 4.57–105 3–4 4.60 77n.53 4.61 109–10, 132 4.61–62, 63 108–9, 111n.26 4.61–6 191–2 4.62 63–4, 167–8 4.62–3 186–7 4.63 108–10, 159–60 4.64 111n.26, 186–7 4.65 111, 186–7, 299 4.66 72–3, 110–11 4.67 63–4, 65n.18, 110, 167–8

371

4.68–69 110 4.69 112n.30 4.70 77n.53 4.70–1 111 4.70–2 186–7 4.72 90, 114–15 4.73 90 4.76 49n.66, 60n.6, 115, 184n.67, 186–8, 279–80 4.77 115–17, 115n.39, 131–2, 278–9, 287–8, 334 4.77 87, 187–8 4.79 87–8 4.79–80 88–9 4.80 186–7 4.81 178–9 4.82 44–5, 60n.6, 110, 115–17, 131–2, 184n.67, 187–8, 301 4.82–6 49n.66 4.82–7 279–80 4.84–5 249 4.84–7 60n.6, 184n.67, 301 4.85 187–8, 188n.75, 288n.55 4.87 108 5.1 44–5, 61, 113–16, 188, 301 5.1–2 184n.67, 279–80, 301 5.1–30 179n.45 5.2 111, 191–2 5.2–7 60–1, 60n.6, 116 5.3 60–1 5.4 62, 87–8, 301 5.5 71–2, 75, 96–7, 110–11, 111n.26, 159–60, 188–9 5.5–6 44–5, 62 5.5–9 95 5.5–16 49n.66 5.6 71–2, 159–60, 188–9 5.6–8 60–1 5.6–14 111n.25 5.7 62–3, 71–2, 77, 184n.67 5.8 63, 77–8 5.8–14 116–17 5.9 63–6, 67n.27, 70–1, 75–8, 112n.30, 178–9, 197–8, 263n.105 5.9–10 64, 69–70, 76–7 5.9–12 24, 41–2, 238–9, 330n.1 5.10 65n.19, 170, 259–60, 284–5, 288n.55, 291–3, 291n.61, 293n.70 5.11 59, 64–5, 65n.20, 67n.27, 69–70, 69n.32, 188–90, 192–3 5.11–12 64–5 5.12 59, 73, 80, 85–6, 94–5, 194n.84, 276–7, 286, 288n.55 5.13 73–4, 289–90 5.13–14 60–1

372

 

Polybius (cont.) 5.13–16 279–80 5.14 74 5.14–16 60n.6, 184n.67, 249 5.14–17 301 5.17 63n.14, 113–14 5.17–19 90 5.18–24 60–1, 111 5.24 77, 134 5.25 301 5.25–9 60n.6, 249, 279–80 5.26 60–1, 77, 93n.85 5.26–27 184n.67 5.26–29 301 5.27 62n.9, 77 5.28 113–14, 186n.70 5.29 77 5.29 113–14 5.30 44–5, 113n.36 5.32 241–2 5.33 21, 267–8 5.34 295–7, 300–1 5.35 296–7 5.35–40 178–9, 295–6 5.36 296–7 5.40–5 301 5.41, 45 300–1 5.49–51 300–1 5.53–6 300–1 5.54 301 5.57–8 301 5.61–2 295–6 5.63 296–7 5.65 293n.72 5.72, 74–8 301 5.80–6 301 5.81 295–6 5.82–6 297 5.87 298n.87 5.91 44–5 5.91–105 179n.45 5.99 116 5.100 88–9, 134 5.101 87n.69, 189–90, 238–40, 245, 318–19, 334 5.101–2 237 5.102 77n.54, 96–7, 113–14, 189–90, 238, 259–60 5.102–103 113–14 5.103 77–8, 113–14 5.103–5 301 5.104 193–4, 239–40, 245, 278–9 5.104–5 3–4, 105, 164, 182, 185–6, 190, 201–2, 205–6

5.105 21, 21n.71, 59n.2, 77–8, 113–14, 117n.42, 164, 308 5.106 143n.116 5.107 87, 298n.87, 299 5.108 77n.54, 193–4 5.108–10 239–40 5.109–10 243 5.111 117n.42 5.116 207 6.2 199–200 6.3 182n.58 6.3–10 181 6.4 190, 191n.79, 287–8 6.5 18–19, 181n.51 6.6–7 190 6.6–12 190 6.7 190, 192–3, 196–7, 207, 288n.55 6.7–8 180–1 6.8 181n.50 6.9 287–8 6.10 182n.58 6.11 18–19, 182–3, 323 6.11–18 182 6.18 290 6.26 174 6.37 174 6.41–3 174 6.46–47 179n.45 6.48–50 182n.58 6.51 180n.47, 182–3, 326 6.51–52 182n.58 6.53–5 174 6.56 174 6.57 182–3, 204–5, 287–8 7.7 21 7.8 288n.55 7.9 79, 239–40, 316, 318–19 7.10 81–2, 97 7.10–14 24, 190, 193–4 7.11 81–6, 97–8, 101, 104–5, 104n.5, 108, 116–19, 127, 131–2, 170, 184–6, 191–2, 287–8, 334 7.11–14 49n.66, 55–6, 82, 259–60, 278–9 7.12 81–2, 90–1, 195–6 7.12–13 288n.55 7.12–14 69, 72–3, 108, 116–17, 276–7 7.13 59, 84–5, 95, 104–5, 195–6, 286 7.13–14 81 7.14 93, 95–6, 284–5 7.15–18 301 8.8 1, 10n.26, 82, 84, 92–4, 101–2, 195–6, 284–5, 288n.55, 332 8.8–12 49n.66, 94n.86 8.9 292 8.9–11 92n.83, 281–2, 284–5, 291n.61

  8.10 289, 291–4, 292n.67, 293n.70 8.11 270–1, 281–2, 325–6 8.12 94, 98, 101–2, 144n.120, 194n.84, 195–6, 276–7, 279–80, 284–5 8.13 77n.53, 318–19 8.13–14 120n.46 8.15–21 301–3 8.20 301–3 8.23 288n.55, 301–3 8.27 201–2 8.27, 30 204n.108 8.26 320–1 8.35 192–3 8.38 120n.46 9.1 18–19 9.1–2 28n.3 9.2 19 9.4–7 321–2 9.6 174 9.8–9 321–2 9.9 182, 320–4 9.10 204n.108 9.11 176–8 9.13 320–1 9.18 3n.5, 79 9.22 319 9.22–6 322–3 9.23 49n.66, 97–8, 184–5, 185n.68, 194n.84, 283, 289, 290n.60 9.23–24 322–3 9.24 322–3 9.25–6 322–3 9.26 322–3 9.28 70, 291–3, 291n.61, 293n.70 9.28–31 167–8, 203 9.28–33 292 9.28–39 122n.50, 201–2, 220 9.29, 34 2n.2 9.29 192–3, 293–4, 293n.72 9.30 94n.86, 101–2, 195–6 9.32 167–8 9.33 291–2, 291n.61 9.34 292–3, 293n.70 9.35 70–1, 167–8 9.37 167–8, 174–5, 182 9.38 167–8, 182 9.39 148n.129 9.41 121–2 10.2 278 10.2–5 276–8 10.15 148n.129, 174, 204n.108 10.16 174 10.21 270–3, 272n.16, 273nn.17,19 10.22 276–7

373

10.22–24 144–5 10.25 204n.108 10.26 101–2, 122–3, 196–7, 199–200, 200n.100, 259–60, 276–7, 279–80, 287, 288n.55, 307–8 10.27 293n.70 10.27–31 301–3 10.32 204n.108 10.32–3 123n.55 10.41 124, 334 10.41–42 124 10.42 124–5, 147n.127 10.49 301–3 11.2 123n.55 11.3 168–9 11.4–6 168–9, 201–3 11.4 134 11.4–5 176 11.5 108, 126–7, 168–9, 182, 231n.9, 255–6, 333 11.5–6 79 11.7 79, 196–7, 334 11.8–10 183 11.10 192–3 11.19 319–21 11.25–30 204n.108 11.34 301–3, 303n.102 12.4b 182 12.9–12 30 12.12–15 27–8 12.12b 292–3, 293n.70 12.13 65n.18 12.15 20, 27–8 12.17–23 292–3, 293n.70 12.23 289, 292 13.1a 208n.114 13.3 128–30, 129n.68, 204n.108 13.3–5 196–7, 332–4 13.4 130n.72 13.4–5 101–2, 130–2, 134–5 13.6 192–3 14.1a 244 14.5 129n.68 14.11 297 14.12 297–8, 298n.87 15.5–8 24 15.6 321–2 15.8 204–5 15.9 320–1 15.12 174 15.13 204–5 15.15 320–2 15.20 24, 119, 127–8, 170, 184–5, 197, 237, 239–40, 244–5, 278–80, 283–4, 288n.55, 301–3, 313–14, 332–4

374

 

Polybius (cont.) 15.20–4 197 15.21 135–6 15.21–3 128n.66 15.21–4 119, 170, 196–7 15.22 135–6 15.22–3 101–2, 197 15.22–4 334 15.23 135–8, 197–9 15.24 129n.68, 138, 199, 237, 239–40 15.25 296–7 15.33 176–8, 230–1 15.35 326–7 15.37 301–3 16.1 77n.53, 79–80, 170, 197, 199–200, 334 16.1–9 247–8 16.9 128n.67 16.10 200, 246–7, 249, 321–2, 330n.1, 332–3 16.10,15 247–8 16.12 28–9, 29n.7 16.14 28–9, 134n.91 16.15 200n.100 16.17 20n.65, 28–9 16.22a 293n.70 16.22 200n.100 16.23 128n.66 16.27–8 200n.100 16.27–18 3n.5 16.28 288n.55, 334 16.29 128n.66 16.29–35 279–80 16.33 65n.19 16.34 206 16.38 142–3, 143n.114 18.1 156–8, 213, 289–90 18.1–5 206–11 18.1–6 148 18.2 128n.66 18.3 101–2, 135n.95, 137n.98, 291n.64, 293n.70 18.4 148, 213 18.4–48 220n.132 18.5 168n.11, 179n.45 18.6 209–10 18.6–12 211–14 18.8 206–7, 213–14 18.8–12 129n.68 18.11 125n.62 18.12 286–7 18.13 166–7, 175–6 18.13–15 145, 211n.120 18.14 291–2, 291n.61 18.18–27 214–17, 243

18.28 219, 219n.131 18.28–32 218–19 18.32 172, 214–15 18.33 101–2, 200n.100, 225–6, 278–9, 288n.55, 322–3, 334 18.34–9 220 18.35 205 18.36 220 18.37 220 18.38 220 18.39 220, 304 18.41 134, 304 18.43 157, 159, 224–5 18.44 128n.66, 220–1 18.44–5 229 18.45 221, 304 18.45–46 220–1 18.46 168n.10, 219–20, 222 18.47 304 18.49–52 304 18.54 131n.75 20.1, 3, 7 304 20.4–7 156n.153 20.5 157–8, 179n.45, 293n.72 20.7 307–8 20.8 301–5 20.9–10 224–5 20.10 202–3, 203n.104, 308n.117 20.11 226, 226n.142, 229, 278–80 21.2 203n.104 21.3 3–4, 226, 334 21.4–5 203n.104 21.8 203n.104 21.11 305 21.13 305–6 21.13–17 305–6 21.16–17 164n.2 21.25 203–4 21.31 226 21.32c 129n.68, 175n.32 21.38 5–6 21.42 305–6 22.1 334 22.1–2 203 22.1, 6, 11, 13 226 22.1–11 240 22.3 5n.9 22.3 225n.140 22.4 307–8 22.6 203–4, 229 22.7, 10 225n.140 22.8 300n.93 22.11 203–4, 225n.140, 229 22.11,13–14 226–7

  22.12–16 5n.9 22.13 334 22.13–14 3–4, 229 22.14 226–7, 233–4 22.16 291–2, 291n.61 22.18 3–4, 24, 105, 105n.8, 164–5, 234n.18, 238–9, 264, 284–5, 291, 293n.70 22.18 291n.61 22.19 129–30, 175n.32 22.23 226–7 23.1–2 203–4 23.1–3 226–7 23.3 308 23.4 225n.140 23.5 223n.136 23.7 156n.152, 308 23.8 203n.105 23.9, 16–18 225n.140 23.10 24, 152, 184n.67, 228, 230–2, 230n.3, 231n.9, 246–8, 254, 256, 262–3, 265, 278–80, 283–4, 333 23.11 230n.3, 231–2, 256–7, 279–80, 289–90 23.12–14 316 23.12, 16–17 5n.9, 175n.32 23.13.1–2 316–17, 316n.138, 320–1 23.16–18 225n.140 23.17 224–5 23.33 318–19 24.2 225n.140 24.6 5n.9, 313–14 24.8–10 183–4 24.9 225n.140 24.10 5n.9, 225n.140, 307–8 24.11 307–8 24.11–13 175n.32 24.13 169n.16, 307–8 25.3 3–4, 129n.68, 201–2, 263–4, 278–80, 280n.42, 308–10, 322–3 25.6 3–4 26.1a–1 315–16 27.1–2 310–11 27.1–7 165–6 27.2 166n.4, 310–11 27.3–4 310–11 27.5 172n.22 27.5–6 234n.18, 310–11 27.6 312n.129 27.7–8 310–11 27.7 166n.4, 310–11 27.8 309–10 27.9–10 165–6, 309–10 27.10 309–10, 310nn.121, 122 27.14 310–11 27.15 165–6, 310–11

28.2–7 5n.9, 165–6 28.6 5 28.8–9 311 28.9 311 28.10 312–13, 312n.129 28.10–11, 19 165–6 28.16–17 165–6 28.20–21 315–16 28.62–5 310–11 29.2 313–14 29.3–4 311n.125 29.5–9 311–12, 322–3 29.8 311–12, 311n.125, 322–3 29.9 311–12 29.12 20n.65 29.13 311n.125 29.17 312–13 29.17–18 3–4 29.18 312–13 29.19 231n.9, 255–6 29.21 23–4, 293n.70, 333 29.22 243, 315–16 29.23 313–16 29.23–5 5n.9, 183–4 29.24 306–7, 306n.111, 313–14 29.26 315–16 29.27 244–5, 313–16 29.31 315–16 29.33 315–16 30.1–3 315–16 30.4 129n.68 30.6–9 310–11 30.7–9 166n.4 30.7.2 172n.22 30.7.5 172n.22 30.13 5n.10, 183–4 30.15 172n.22 30.27 129n.68 30.29 183–4 30.32 5n.10, 183–4 31.2, 11–15 5n.10 31.18 192–3, 315–16 31.23–4 5–6, 278 31.23–30 276–7 31.25 183–4, 186n.70 31.29 5–6 32.3 5n.10 32.4 283 32.11 298n.86 33.1, 3, 14 5n.10 34.10 5–6 34.14 5–6 34.15 5–6 36.9 323

375

376

 

Polybius (cont.) 36.9–10 171–2 36.13 5n.9 36.14–15 196n.92 36.15 196–7 36.17 267–8 37.5 5n.9 38.2 70, 292–3, 293n.70 38.8 283–4 38.10 183–4 38.11 183–4 38.12–14 183–4 38.21–2 5–6 39.2–3 204n.108 39.3–11 175n.32 39.5 5–6 39.21–2 301–3 Quintilian 10.1.31 251–2 Scholia Dion. Trax p. 746.1 250–1 SEG 11.414, l.30 158n.156 11.1089 54–5 12 399 10n.27 27.202 63n.14 46 (1996) 716 10n.27 48 785 10n.27 56 10n.27

Strabo 12.4.3 135n.95 Syll.³ 543 10n.27, 171–2 552 10n.27 572 10n.27 587 147n.127 Thrasymachus DK 85 B 2 166n.5 Thucydides 1.3, 118 65n.18 1.6 176–8 1.13 193n.82 1.22 251–2 1.5–6 176–8 1.85, 3.9 65n.20 2.68 176–8 2.80 166n.5 2.99 166n.5 3.9 176–8 4.97 65nn.18–19 4.97–8 65n.19, 67–8 4.98 65n.20 4.124 166n.5 5.49 65n.19 7.73 65n.19 Timocles F 6.1–7, 17–19 K-A 251n.65

Stasinus Cyria fg. 22 232n.11

Xenophon Ages. 10.1 65n.19 Cyr. 1.3.18 193n.82 Cyr. 7.5.73 65n.20 Hell. 4.1.29–39 176–8 Hell. 4.1.39 157n.155 Hell. 4.7.2–7 65n.19 Hiero 1.11–12, 15 193n.82 Sym. 3.5 256n.83

Stobaeus Anthologia 4, 1, 32, 135 191n.79 Anthologia 4, 5, 6, 61 191n.79 Anthologia 4, 7, 61–6 191n.79

Zonaras 9.4 318–19 9.22.2 308n.116 9.22.9 311

SIG 493 l.22 54–5 Sophocles Fr. 587 176–8

General Index For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Abydus 143n.113, 155, 206, 220–1, 278–9 Acarnania(ns) 75n.48, 111, 113n.33, 116, 159–62 And Aetolia 159–60, 159n.159 And Philip V and Macedon 59, 60n.4, 75, 83–4, 86–7, 101, 109–10, 116–17, 119, 121, 124, 139–41, 143–4, 159–62, 165–8, 172, 211n.120 And Rome 159–61, 159n.158, 171–2 Member of the Symmachy 108, 116, 140, 159–60 Request to attack Aetolia 62, 70–1, 110–11, 111n.26, 188–9, 191–2 Achaea(ns)/Achaean League 5–6, 27, 33–4, 38n.37, 43–8, 55n.79, 59n.2, 60–1, 71–2, 81–2, 122, 152–6, 159, 161–2, 181n.53, 188, 224–5, 225n.140, 294–5, 310–11 Assembly/council 34–7, 46, 61–2, 113–16, 124–5, 141–2, 142n.111, 146n.125, 152–3, 205–6 And Aetolians 2–3, 71–3, 116, 178–9, 183, 188–9 And Antigonus III Doson 2–3, 34–9, 48–58, 152–3, 153n.140, 202–3 And Apelles see Apelles And Aristomachus 40–2 And Boeotians 179nn.45–46 And Cleomenes see Cleomenes III of Sparta And Flamininus 221, 223–4 see also Quinctius Flamininus C. And Macedon 34–9, 48–50, 54–7, 59, 87n.71, 106–8, 106n.11, 114–15, 142–3, 167, 202–3, 294–5, 329 And Mantinea(ns) 39–40, 56–7, 67–8 And Messenia/Messene 81–2, 84–5, 87–8, 91n.81, 92–3 And Perseus 310–11, 314 And Philip V 13–14, 57, 59, 61–2, 74–7, 84–5, 89–93, 95, 98–9, 101–10, 111n.26, 113–17, 119–27, 131–2, 137, 139–47, 152–6, 159, 161–2, 164–7, 175–6, 186–7,

189–90, 196–7, 205–6, 211, 288, 294–5, 306–7, 328–9, 332 And Ptolemies 306–7, 306n.111, 313–14 And Rome 7, 142–5, 149, 159, 161–2, 165–7, 183–4, 205, 205n.109, 221 And Seleucids 306–7, 306n.111 And Sparta(ns) 88n.73, 112n.31, 121–2, 122n.50, 124–6, 144–5, 153n.140, 154n.145, 178–9, 179n.45, 296 Defection to Rome 7, 145, 149, 152–7, 161–2, 170–2, 175–6, 200–3, 206–7, 223–4, 329 Deportation to Rome 5–6, 38 Hellenic excellence 178–81, 183, 186, 188–9 Member of Symmachy 30n.13, 108, 108n.15, 131–2 Military reforms 144–5, 175n.32 Depiction and defence by Polybius 6–8, 13–15, 30–1, 39–42, 51, 57–9, 68, 84–5, 99–100, 102–3, 116, 139–40, 166–7, 175–6, 178–80, 183–4, 194–5, 205, 205n.109, 223, 286, 329 See also Aratus of Sicyon, Aristaenus, Cycliadas, Eperatus, Lycortas, Philopoemen Achaea, Phthiotic see also Phthiotic Achaea 88–9, 113n.33 Achaean War 24, 34–5, 152, 166–7, 203, 289 Achelous River 62–3, 113n.33 Acrocorinthus 2–3, 27, 33–5, 42–3, 49–51, 53–5, 53n.74, 54n.78, 82, 155, 221, 252 Aegean (Sea) 2, 88–90, 127–8, 131, 132–5, 150–1, 168–9, 240, 247–8, 288 Philip’s campaign (205–201 BC) 7–10, 12n.32, 127–8, 127n.64, 134–5, 134n.91, 137, 155, 170–2, 213–14, 239–40, 246–8, 259–60, 303–4, 331–4 Adeimantus, Spartan ephor 111–12 Aegium 61, 113–14, 122, 124–5, 142n.111 Aemilius Paullus, L. 5–6, 8 Aenus 10n.27, 229, 240

378

 

Aetolia(ns) 21n.71, 51, 63, 73–5, 86–7, 90, 101–4, 108–10, 113n.34, 116, 122, 124, 126–8, 131–2, 134–7, 146, 148, 151–2, 159, 162, 167–9, 183, 188–9, 191–2, 194–8, 200n.100, 201–2, 208–10, 216, 218n.129, 254, 279–80, 283, 289–90, 293–4, 308n.117, 333 And Acarnanians 62, 71–2, 75, 75n.48, 110–11, 159–62, 188–9 And Achaeans see Achaea(ns)/Achaean League and Aetolians And Antigonus II Gonatas 49–50, 293n.72 And Antigonus III Doson 50 And Antiochus III 240, 304–5 And Cleomenes III 34, 38, 178–9 And Conference of Nicaea 148, 206–11 And Boeotians 157–8, 179n.46 And Demetrius II Aetolicus 157–8, 293n.72 And Epirotes 62, 71–2, 109–10 And First Macedonian War 79, 167–8, 176, 220, 239–40 And Macedon 2–3, 121, 159–60, 170–1, 206–11 And Messenia(ns) 87–8, 94, 94n.86, 101–2 And Perseus 121, 172n.22, 234n.18 And Philip V 41–2, 59–75, 77–8, 83–4, 87n.71, 90–2, 96–7, 102–5, 108–14, 116–17, 119, 121–2, 124–7, 135n.95, 137–9, 143n.115, 146, 148, 159–62, 167–9, 186–90, 198–9, 200n.100, 206–11, 226, 239–40, 243, 279–80, 279n.41, 300–1 And Rome 79, 120–1, 121n.47, 124, 124n.58, 137–8, 145–6, 159–62, 165–9, 172, 176, 202–3, 204n.108, 209–11, 218n.129, 220–1, 224–5 And Second Macedonian War 145–6, 148, 151–2, 162, 206 And Social War (220–217) 3–4, 21, 59, 59n.2, 60–3, 70–1, 75–8, 83–4, 91–2, 102–3, 108–10, 112–14, 116, 186–7, 189–92, 238–40, 301 see also Naupactus, conference of And Spartans 34, 38, 87–9, 111–12, 121–2, 122n.50 And tyche 255 Attacks on Dium and Dodona 41–2, 63–7, 70–1, 71n.39, 75–6, 110n.23 Characteristics 179n.45 Greek/barbarian status 167–70, 172, 176–80, 188–9, 209–11 Polybius’ depiction 38, 59n.2, 60n.4, 77–8, 77n.54, 88–9, 106n.9, 179n.45, 188–9, 206–11

Thermika 63 see also Agelaus of Naupactus, Alexander the Isian, Dorimachus, Lyciscus, Nicander, Phaineas, Scopas, Thermum Aetolian League 34, 70–1, 112–13, 137n.98, 208 Agathocleia, sister of Agathocles, 297, 297n.85 Agathocles, courtier of Ptolemy IV Philopator 230–1, 250, 261, 286n.51, 296–7, 297n.85 Agelaus of Naupactus 10n.25, 87, 105–6, 171–2, 189–90, 194–5, 239–40, 245 Agesilaus, Spartan king 65n.19, 143n.115, 176–8, 191–2, 273n.18 Alcaeus of Messene 8–10, 194–5, 204, 235n.26, 332–3 Alexander I, of Macedon 166n.5, 202n.102 Alexander III, the Great, 2–4, 8–10, 12, 23–4, 26, 64, 68–70, 105, 105n.8, 107–8, 108n.15, 112, 112n.29, 176, 178, 202–3, 207, 238–9, 264, 284–5, 286n.51, 287–9, 291–5, 301–3, 313–14, 326 Alexander the Isian, Aetolian 148, 148n.129, 208–11 Alexander, Macedonian courtier 83–4, 97–8 Alexander, Seleucid governor 300–1 Alexandria 5–6, 8–10, 200, 200n.99, 230n.8, 232n.11, 246–8, 250n.60, 261, 330n.1, 332–3 Alexandrian court 297 Alipheira 125n.60, 146–7, 153n.140 Ambassador(s) 65–6, 65n.20, 67–8, 113–14, 134, 134n.93, 136, 139n.106, 146–8, 159, 167–9, 195–6, 198, 213, 248–9, 311–12, 319–20 Ambracia 62, 108–11, 113n.33, 148–9, 159–60, 191–2 Ambracus 108–10, 116, 191–2 Amicitia 308n.116 Amphipolis, Amphipolitans 10–11, 10n.27, 248–9, 262n.103 military code 10–11, 115n.38 Amynander of Athamania 145–6, 286n.51 Anacyclosis 181, 181n.51 see also Constitution(s) Antigoneia 54–5, 55n.80, 202–3 Antigonid kings/dynasty 2–4, 10–14, 11n.31, 23–4, 55n.82, 70–1, 202–3, 223, 243–5, 260n.96, 262–3, 263n.104, 307–10, 307n.113, 313–16, 326, 332 And Achaeans 155n.151 And Argead dynasty 238–9, 291 And Ptolemies 155n.151, 306–7, 313–14

  And Seleucids 301, 306–7, 313–14 Court 49n.66, 60n.6 Garrisons 87n.71, 125n.62 Naval force 60–1, 60n.5, 144n.118 Antigonus I Monophthalmos 108n.15, 293n.72 Antigonus II Gonatas 2–3, 2n.2, 11n.31, 13n.33, 48–50, 238–9, 286n.51, 293–4, 293n.72 Antigonus III Doson 2–3, 3n.3, 11n.31, 25, 27, 32–4, 48–59, 63–4, 67–70, 87, 90, 107–8, 114, 157–8, 186, 202–3, 213–14, 238–9, 276–7, 286n.51, 291–5 Antiochus III, Seleucid king 13, 21n.71, 26, 134, 164, 273–4, 286n.51, 287, 299–308 And advisers 85–6, 289–90, 300–1 And Greeks 306n.111 And Hannibal 304–5 And Philip V 3–4, 6–10, 16–17, 24, 102–4, 119, 127–8, 139, 170, 197, 212n.121, 224–6, 226n.142, 229, 239–40, 244–6, 254, 271n.13, 279–80, 289–91, 295, 299–308, 313–15, 315n.135, 320–1, 323–4, 326, 332–3 And Ptolemy IV 16–17, 291, 295–9, 307–8 And Ptolemy V 24 And Rome 102, 164n.2, 212n.121, 224–7, 229, 240, 244–5, 284–5, 300n.91, 304–8, 311 And tyche/Fortune 244–5, 254, 303–4, 313–14 And youth 300–1 Capture of Achaeus 16–17, 261n.97, 301–3 Depiction by Polybius 299–308 Pact with Philip 24, 103–4, 119, 127–8, 128n.65, 139, 170, 197, 239–40, 244–6, 279–80, 303–4, 306–7, 320–1, 332–3 The Great 301–3 See also Apamea, treaty of Antiochus IV, Seleucid king 245, 286n.51, 306–7, 306n.111, 311, 313–16 Antiochus V, Seleucid king 289–90 Antisthenes, Rhodian historian 29, 132, 134n.91 Aous Pass, battle of 141n.108, 146–7, 149, 151–4, 206, 206n.111, 214–15 Aous River 135n.94, 151–4, 318–19 Apamea, treaty of 164n.2, 305–6, 306n.110 Apelles, Macedonian courtier 233–5 Apelles, Philip’s guardian 184n.67, 209n.117, 300–1 And Aratus 43, 61, 97–8, 97n.89, 114–16, 187–8, 296–7, 300–1 Barbaric threat 189–90 Conspiracy 60–1, 60n.6, 73, 188–90, 243, 249, 297, 301 Oppression of Achaeans 115–16, 118, 187–8 Apodeictic history 267–8, 273–4, 273n.19 Apollo 68, 79, 155–6, 223n.135

379

Apollonia 145–6, 262n.103, 318–19 Appian 3–4, 8–10, 22n.75, 165–6, 234n.18, 280–1, 280n.43, 299–300, 300n.91, 303n.103, 304–5, 308n.116 Aratus of Sicyon (the elder) Against tyranny/tyrants 33–4, 41, 46, 49–50, 178–9, 286 And Acrocorinthus see Acrocorinthus And Antigonus Doson 34–9, 48–58, 114 And Aristomachus see Achaea(ns)/Achaean and Aristomachus And Apelles and circle 43, 60n.6, 61, 97–8, 97n.89, 114–16, 187–90, 296–7, 300–1 And Cleomenes III 34–9, 43–4, 46–7, 50–2 And Lydiadas 43–8 And Philip V 28, 43, 57–8, 61–3, 71–2, 99–100, 104–5, 114–16, 126–7, 143n.115, 164, 185n.68, 186–95, 278–80, 286, 288, 294–5, 328–9, 332 At Thermum 72–6, 188–9 At Messene 81–2, 84–99, 108, 193–6 Poisoning 8, 98, 101–2, 123, 144n.120, 195–6, 212, 279–80 And Ptolemy III 143n.116 ‘Aratus’ Conspiracy 60n.6 Hellenic excellence 186, 188–90, 194–5, 278–9, 286, 326, 328–9 Plutarch’s depiction 8, 43–9, 51–2, 277 Polybius’ depiction 28, 30–1, 34–59, 93–100, 126–7, 186, 188–9, 200n.99, 213–14, 272–4, 276–8, 286, 324–5 Polybius’ use of Memoirs 31–4 Vs. Demetrius of Pharus 73, 80–1, 91–100, 126–7, 188–9, 193–5, 300–1 see also Achaea(ns)/Achaean League, Autobiography, Memoirs Aratus the Younger, son of Aratus of Sicyon 121–3, 212 Arcadia(ns) 5, 87–8, 90n.79, 111, 132, 166–7, 292 Argead kings of Macedon 12, 70n.35, 178n.40, 238–9 And Antigonid house 238–9, 291 Argos, Argives 2–3, 39–41, 43–7, 45n.59, 53–4, 81, 101–4, 110, 121–3, 133n.84, 141–2, 142n.111, 149–50, 152–7, 153n.142, 159, 161–2, 172, 175, 202–3, 211, 211n.120, 223n.135, 292, see also Aristomachus III, ruler of Argos Aristaenus, Achaean politician 145, 152–3, 156–7, 175–6, 175n.32, 205–6, 211n.120, 212, 223n.135

380

 

Aristocracy 154–5, 157–8, 180–2, 316–17 Aristomachus III, ruler of Argos 39–48, 45n.59, 57–8, 81 Aristotle 65–6, 180, 192, 232n.11, 250–1, 253–4, 256n.83, 259–60, 260n.96 Army Achaean 142, 175 see also Achaea(ns)/ Achaean League Military reforms Aetolian 62 Carthaginian 316–17, 321n.151 Macedonian 13, 43–4, 54–5, 61, 61n.7, 63, 71–4, 77–80, 110–11, 124, 157–8, 214–18, 218n.130, 234–5, 263–4 Roman 99–100, 174, 217, 218n.130 Seleucid 301–3 Arsinoë II, Ptolemaic queen 296–7 Arsinoë III, Ptolemaic queen 296–7, 297n.85 Asia, Asia Minor 21–2, 68, 70–1, 70n.35, 88n.75, 127–8, 137–8, 168–9, 218–22, 234–5, 301–6, 303n.102, 304–6, 315–16 Assembly/ies 167, 208 Acarnanian 160n.163 Achaean see Achaea(ns)/Achaean League Assembly Aetolian 168–9, 201–2 Argive 149–50, 155–6, 202–3 Boeotian 156–7 Athamania(ns) 126–7, 145–6, 148, 151–2, 162, 226, 229, 286n.51 Athena Alcidemus 11 Athenaeus 250–1, 297, 304–5, 311n.125 Athenagoras, Macedonian commander 145–6 Athens, Athenians 2–3, 10n.27, 33, 47, 67–71, 79–80, 139, 139n.105, 141–2, 141n.109, 143n.116, 159, 161–2, 166n.5, 170–2, 176–9, 198, 201–4, 223, 291–2, 294–5, 298n.86 Attalids 12, 204n.107 Attalus I, of Pergamum 21n.71, 79–80, 121–2, 124–7, 128n.67, 139, 143–4, 146–7, 147n.127, 149–50, 156–7, 199–200, 204, 211, 247–8, 286n.51 Attalus II of Pergamum 257, 289–90, 312n.127 Attica 142, 155, 170 Audience see Polybius Autobiography 33, 39–40 see also Memoirs Bactria 301–3, see also Euthydemus I of Bactria Barbarian(s) 167–8, 173–4, 188–90, 193, 224–5, 246n.52, 316–18 Apelles, barbaric threat 189–90 And Philip V 259–60 Characteristics/traits 176–8, 183–4, 193–4, 324 Connection with ochlocracy 193

Connection with tyranny 192–3 Antiochus III as barbaric 306 Demetrius of Pharos 188–9, 194–5 Hannibal as barbaric 324 Philip V/Macedonians 166–7, 166n.5, 170–1, 188–9, 193–205, 208, 210–11, 213–14, 220, 223–4, 259–60, 267, 286–7, 306, 324, 329, 332–3 Romans 1, 14, 14n.37, 165, 167–72, 173n.26, 174, 182–6, 189–90, 194–5, 201–3, 214–16, 223 Polybius’ conception 14, 178–82, 205–6 War against the barbarian 170, 170n.17, 192–3, 205–6, 210–11, 223–4 Warning against barbaric conduct 170, 224, 329 Barbaric/barbarism/barbarity see Barbarian(s) Battles, see Callinicus, Cannae, Chaeronea, Cynoscephalae, Lade, Leuctra, Magnesia ad Sipylum, Pydna, Raphia, Sellasia, Trasimene, Zama Biography, biographical 1–2, 8n.19, 14–17, 26, 76, 82–3, 267–83, 329–31 Bithynia(ns) 135–7, 197–8, 286n.51 Boeotia(ns)/Boeotian League 67–8 And Antiochus III 304 And Demetrius II 2–3, 293n.72 And Perseus 166–7, 172, 172n.22, 234n.18, 310–11 And Philip V 83–4, 101, 119, 124, 125n.62, 126–7, 141, 156–9, 161–2, 172, 211n.120, 292 And Romans 156–7 Defection to Rome 156–9, 161–2, 171–2 Depiction by Polybius 179–81, 179nn.45–46 Loyalty to Antigonid royal house 156–9, see also Brachylles son of Neon, Neon Members of Symmachy 108, 108n.15, 116, 140 Brachylles son of Neon 156–9, 224–5 Booty 63, 73–4, 77, 79–80, 89–90, 113–15, 133, 147, 191–2, 197–8, 209–10, 220 Bylazora 88–9, 89n.77, 102 Byzantium, Byzantines 21n.71, 134, 134n.93, 234n.18 Callinicus, battle of 273n.19, 309–10, 314 Callicrates, Achaean ambassador 183–4 Callisthenes 292–3 Cannae, battle of 182–3, 322n.153, 324 Capua 169, 321–2 Caria(ns) 12n.32, 334 Carthage, Carthaginians 21n.71, 30, 105, 124–5, 130n.72, 143–4, 176–83, 179n.43, 180n.47, 189–90, 204–5, 218–19, 237, 283–4, 304–5, 316–17, 319–20, 322–3, see also Punic War(s) And Hannibal 316–20, 322–3

  And Philip V 318–19 see also Philip V and Hannibal Destruction of 4–6, 171–2, 301–3, 302n.99 Roman-Carthaginian treaty 172n.25 Carystus 148n.129, 149 Cassander 293–4, 293n.72 Cassius Dio 8–10 Cavalry 122, 141n.108, 157–60, 214–16, 215n.125, 309–10, 312n.127 Cephallenia 60–2, 110–11, 116 Chaeronea, battle of 291–2, 294–5 Chalcis 102, 121–2, 124–6, 141–2, 162–3, 213, 220–1, 223n.135, 304–5 Chios 21n.71, 128n.67, 144n.118, 211 Chlaineas, Aetolian ambassador 167–8, 167n.8, 169n.14, 171–2, 195–6, 293–4 Chrysogonus, Macedonian courtier 63–4, 63n.14, 83–4, 185n.68, 262–3 Cicero 251–2 Cius, Cians 101–4, 119, 127–8, 128n.66, 135–9, 155, 197–200, 208–10, 220–1, 247–8 Clarity, in history writing 21–2, 280–1, 299n.88 Cleomenean War 30–2, 38n.37, 51n.70, 67–8, 87–8, 179n.45, 296, 331 Cleomenes III of Sparta 2–3, 31–2, 34–41, 43–7, 49–52, 54–5, 143n.116, 153n.140, 178–9, 179n.45, 286n.51, 296–7 Cnossus 131n.76, 132, 133n.84 Coele-Syrian Wars 4th 296, 296n.80, 298, 301, 301n.96 5th 303–4 6th 315–16, 315n.135 Coin(s), coinage 11, 11n.31, 53–4, 55n.80, 75–6, 236n.32, 262–3, 262n.103, 301n.95 Constitution(s) 184–5, 267–8, 295, 319, 326, see also politeia, Polybius Book 6 Achaean 205 Carthaginian 182–3 Cycle/theory of 180–2, 185, 190, 193n.83, 206, 284–5, 287–90, 308–9, 328–9, see also anacyclosis Macedon 184–5 Mixed 181n.51, 182–3, 186–7, 190, 219 Persian 176–8 Roman 117n.42, 171–2, 182–3, 190, 219, 223, 286–7, 323 Spartan 38n.37, 178–9, 179n.45, 257 Consul(s), consulship 141, 145–6, 151–2, 214n.122, 229, 283, 312–13 Corcyra 159–60, 318–19 Corinth(ians) 4–6, 34–5, 43–4, 50–4, 87–92, 102, 108–10, 112–13, 122–5, 125n.62, 142, 149–50, 155, 155n.149, 161, 221, 293n.72 League of 107–8, 108n.14, 112n.29

381

Cornelius Scipio Africanus Aemilianus, P. (cos. 147, 134) 5–6, 278, 301–3 Cornelius Scipio Africanus, P. (cos. 205) 24n.82, 204n.108, 278–9, 286–7, 289, 316–17, 321–2, 326 Correspondence 10n.27, 41n.48, 248–9 Council 34–5 See also Achaea(ns)/Achaean League Assembly/council Amphictyonic 112–13, 113n.34 Macedonian royal 80n.60, 97n.88, 98, 112, 112n.28, 187–90, 284–5 Symmachy 107–8, 122 see also synedrion Court 49n.66, 291–2 Antigonus Doson 53 Perseus 18, 256, 263–4, 308n.115, 333 Philip V 43, 53, 63n.14, 72–3, 72n.43, 77n.54, 81, 86–7, 92–3, 187–8, 188n.76, 200n.100, 243, 257, 279–80, 288n.55, 296–7, 333 Seleucid 303n.104, 304 Cretan League 101, 119, 131–2 Cretan War 130–1, 133–4 Crete, Cretan(s) 104–5, 108n.17, 127–8, 131–5, 332–3 Critolaus, Achaean leader 183–4 Cultural politics 14, 26, 173–5, 184–5, 204n.107, 329 Cycliadas, Achaean leader, friend of Philip 142 Cycle of constitutions, see Constitution(s) Cynaetha(ns) 108–9, 109n.19, 111–12, 111n.26, 179–81, 179nn.45–46 Cynoscephalae, battle of 3–4, 7, 9n.24, 10n.25, 102, 138n.102, 149–51, 156–61, 165–6, 168n.11, 169, 172, 200n.100, 214–19, 222, 225, 225n.141, 226, 229, 240, 243, 246n.52, 259–60, 278–9, 286–7, 289–90, 304–5, 309n.119 Cyrene(ans) 178, 192–3, 303–4, 315–16 Cyzicus 10n.27 Dardania(ns) 2–4, 10n.27, 88–9, 102, 110–11, 120–2, 126–7, 145–6, 206, 239–40, 262–3, 334 ‘Darling of the Greeks’ 1, 25, 69, 83–4, 84n.62, 101, 104, 116–17, 119, 185–6, 329–30, see also eromenos Dassaretia 120–2, 120n.46, 141n.108, 206, 239–40 Decline 91–2, 127–8, 137–8, 144n.117, 181, 184n.64, 244n.49, 289, see also degeneration Of Achaeans 183–4 Of Boeotians 179n.46 Of kingship/monarchy 304, 307–8, 323–4, 326

382

 

Decline (cont.) Of Perseus 314–15 Of Philip 25, 73–4, 76, 79–80, 82–3, 85–6, 99–100, 117, 123, 128–9, 135, 167, 173, 200–1, 203–5, 223–4, 226–7, 278–9, 287–8, 314–15, 317, 324–6, 328–9 Of Romans 180n.47, 182–4, 204–5 Defence Of Aratus, Achaean League 30–1, 30n.11, 32–3, 38n.37, 39–42, 57–8, 68, 84–5, 139–40, 145, 145n.121, 310 Of Antigonus III Doson 56–7 Of Hannibal 323 Degeneration 81, 180–1, 183–4, 183n.62, 205n.109, 223–4, 279–80, 287–8, 306, see also Decline Delos 133–4, 303n.103 Delphi 68, 113n.34, 234n.18 Demetrias, fetter of Greece, Macedonian palace 102, 124, 124n.56, 125n.62, 141, 147, 213, 220–1, 224–5, 304 Demetrius I Poliorcetes, son of Antigonus Monophthalmus 13n.33, 54–5, 108n.15, 125n.62, 293–4, 293n.72 Demetrius I, Seleucid king 286n.51, 289–90 Demetrius II Aetolicus, son of Antigonus Gonatas 2–3, 45, 48–50, 55n.82, 109n.21, 112–13, 157–8, 238–9, 252n.72 Demetrius of Phalerum 23–4, 333 Demetrius of Pharus, Illyrian chief, Macedonian courtier And Philip 21, 43, 60n.5, 185n.68, 188–90, 193–6, 238–40, 245, 259–60, 290n.60, 300–1, 318–19, 322–3, 328–9 At Thermum 72–3, 80–1, 95, 188–9, 191–4 At Messene 82, 85–7, 91–9, 108–9, 108n.17, 126–7, 193–4 Vs. Aratus see Aratus of Sicyon vs. Demetrius of Pharus Demetrius, son of Philip V 7, 105n.8, 230n.4, 231–2, 231n.9, 234–5, 244–5, 248–9, 259–60, 263n.106, 264, 278–9, 308 Democracy 30–1, 48, 176–82, 277, 316–17, see also ochlocracy Demosthenes, Athenian statesman 34n.27, 202–3, 292 Diaeus, Achaean strategos 183–4 Didactic history 13–16, 18n.60, 19–22, 27–8, 28n.3, 65n.17, 82–3, 99, 119–20, 134–5, 164, 174n.30, 233, 237, 245–6, 246n.52, 249–53, 258–9, 261, 265–9, 271n.13, 274, 277, 279–81, 324–5, 329–30, 333–5 Diodorus Siculus 8–10, 65–6, 130n.72, 131–2, 131n.74, 132, 134–5, 251–2, 305 Dionysius of Halicarnassus 251–2

Diplomacy 1, 136n.96, 151n.135, 176, 178n.40, 208 Discipline 174, 179–80, 182–3, 204n.108 Dium 10n.27, 121 Aetolian sack of 41–2, 63–7, 67n.26, 70–1, 71n.39, 75, 110n.23, 167–8 Perseus’ withdrawal 312–13 Dodona Aetolian sack of 41–2, 63–4, 63n.15, 64–7, 67n.26, 70–1, 71n.39, 75, 167–8 Zeus 63n.15, 75–6 Dorimachus, Aetolian strategos 62, 75, 108–11, 208, 208n.115 Dyme(i) 46, 89–90, 113n.36, 122, 149, 152–7, 161–2, 172, 175, 203, 211n.120 Echinus 121–2, 208, 220 Egypt, Egyptian(s) 4–5, 21–2, 21n.71, 33, 119, 127–8, 133–4, 143n.116, 176–9, 200n.99, 239–40, 244–5, 247–8, 247n.53, 289–90, 298–9, 306–7, 313–14, 315n.135, 322–3, 332–3 Thebaid ‘war’/revolt 299, 299n.89 Elis, Eleans 6n.14, 60–1, 87–8, 108–9, 111, 122, 124–5 Embassy/ies 21n.71, 30n.13, 34–7, 51–4, 62, 110–11, 113–14, 124, 137–8, 140–3, 166n.5, 170–1, 212–13, 234, 259–60, 319–20, see also Ambassador(s) Empire 30, 70, 291–2, 321–2, 325–6 Carthaginian 4–5 Cycle of 24, 227, 333 Macedonian 1–2, 4–5, 23–4, 227, 284–5, 288, 292–3, 313–14, 330–1 Roman 224–5, 227 Seleucid 289–90, 301–3, 302n.97 Emotions 152, 152n.137, 252–3, 261–2, 289 Encomium 16–17, 270–4, 270n.10, 292 Energeia 252n.69, see Vividness Envoy(s) 38n.39, 50, 124–5, 130–1, 136, 198–9, 234–5, 255, 306–7, see also Ambassador(s) Eordaea 145–6, 206, 206n.111, 214–15 Eperatus of Pharae 44–5, 45n.59, 61–2, 110–11, 115–16, 143n.115, 188, 191–2 Epirus, Epirotes 2–3, 113n.33, 140, 239–40 And Aetolians 62, 71–2, 188–9 And Perseus 172, 172n.22, 310–11 And Philip 75, 83–4, 86–7, 86n.68, 89–90, 101, 108–10, 111n.26, 116–17, 119, 124, 126–7, 146–7, 172, 186–7, 206 And Romans 149n.131, 151–4, 151n.135 Defection to Rome 151–2, 151n.135, 161–2, 172, 200–1, 206, 223 Members of Symmachy 108, 116 Eratosthenes 178

  Eretria(ns) 147, 148n.129, 149, 220–1 Erastes 185–6, see also Eromenos Eromenos 17–18, 83–4, 119, 185–6, 186n.70, 194–5, 202, 204, 297n.85, see also ‘Darling of the Greeks’, Erastes Euboea(ns) And Antigonus III Doson 54–5 And Antiochus III 304 And Attalus I 121–2, 125 And Demetrius II 2–3 And Philip V 102, 121–2, 124–7, 125n.62, 146, 151, 153–4 And Rome 125, 146, 149, 151, 153–4, 223n.135 Members of Symmachy 108, 108n.17, 116 Eumenes II of Pergamum 26, 286n.51, 289–90, 315–16 And Perseus 311–12, 315–16, 322–3, 326 And Philip V 229, 240, 257, 289–90 And Rome 229, 234, 240 Euripides, Athenian tragedian 63–6, 176–8, 232n.11 Euthydemus I of Bactria 301–3 Experience Of the audience 276–8 Relationship with history 15, 319nn.143–144 Fabius Pictor, Q., historian 27–8, 28n.1, 30, 32–3 Fetters of Greece 125, 125n.62, 141–2, 155, 213, 221, 224–5 Flamininus see Quinctius Flamininus C. Fortune, see also tyche And tragedy/stage 250–2, 254–6, 259–60 Antiochus III punished by 303–6, 313–14 Awareness of fickleness 301–3, 321–2, 322n.153 Changes/reversals of 15–16, 24, 200n.98, 217, 259–61, 283, 289, 299, 305, 324, 329–30, 333 Cycle of empires 24 Learn to ‘Bear bravely . . .’ 19–20, 251–2, 265–6, 288n.55, 329–30 Philip adapts to misfortune 226–7, 259–60, 279–80 Philip punished by 1, 139–40, 228, 231–2, 254, 259–61, 264, 284n.49, 303–4, 306, 313–14 “Director”, structuring/explanatory device 23, 333 Freedom Achaean principle 5, 30–1, 33–4, 40n.44, 41–3, 48, 176, 183, 188, 194–5, 277, 286 Hellenic principle 176–81, 192–3, 224–5, 277 Of the Greeks 134, 168–9, 168n.10, 193–4, 219–22, 224–5, 227, 304

383

Friend(s) see also Friendship, philos/philoi, xenia/os Of Antigonus III Doson 13–14, 48–9, 49n.66, 157n.155, 159 Of Hannibal 322–3 Of Perseus 308–9, 311n.126 Of Philip II and Alexander 292–4 Of Philip V 43, 48–9, 49n.66, 57, 63n.14, 75–6, 80, 83–4, 94, 101–4, 112, 116–17, 135–7, 142, 152–3, 156–7, 187–90, 188n.75, 195–6, 198–201, 198n.95, 212, 225, 227, 234, 322–3 Of Demetrius, son of Philip 308 Of Roman 234 Royal 49n.66, 50, 50n.69, 93, 284–5 Friendship 44, 50–3, 50n.69, 57, 88n.73, 111–12, 114–15, 157n.155, 160–2, 175–6, 301–3, see also philia, xenia/xenos Achaean League and Rome 175 Aetolians and treatment of 179n.45, 209–11 Macedon and Boeotians (Neon and Brachylles) 156–9, 161–2 Perseus with Rome 230n.3, 234–5, 308–9, 308n.116 Philip II 292 Philip V and Achaean League 99 Philip V and Aetolians 137–8 Philip V and Argives 152–5, 161–2 Philip V and gift-giving 13n.34 Philip V and Hannibal 318–19 Philip V and Nabis 149–50 Philip V and Rome 3–4 Philip V and Thasos 138 Polybius and Scipio Aemilianus 278 Funerals, Roman 174 Gaul(s) 5–6, 176–8, 182 Genthius, King of Illyria 311nn.124–125 ‘great man’ history 269–70, 282–3, 290, 319, 326–7 Hamilcar Barca 289, 326 Hannibal, Carthaginian commander And Antiochus see Antiochus III and Hannibal And avarice 322–3 And Philip 79, 79n.57, 84–5, 164, 239–40, 240n.39, 295, 316–24 And Romans 79, 96–7, 113–14, 143–4, 168–9, 238, 317–24 Polybius’ depiction 24n.82, 273–4, 287, 289, 295, 316–24 See also Hannibalic war, tyche Hannibalic war 168–9, 189–90, 205, 244, 284–5, 323, see also Punic War, 2nd Hegemony 55n.79, 89–91, 171–2, 205–6, 220–1

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Hellenism (panhellenism) 14, 26, 105n.7, 173–4, 176–82, 182n.56, 185n.69, 186, 210–11 Heracles 63–4, 155–6, 223 Cynagidas 10n.27 Heraea 50–1, 54–5, 54n.78, 87–92, 102, 124–5, 125n.60, 146–7 Heraean Games 122–3 Hermeias, Seleucid courtier 85–6, 300–1, 300n.94 Herodotus 16n.51, 65–8, 157n.155, 176–8, 177n.36, 193n.83, 232n.11, 241, 251–2, 316–17 Hieron II of Syracuse 286n.51 Horatius Cocles 174 Illyrian War, 1st 171–2 Illyria(ns) And Hannibal 319 And Perseus 311, 311n.125 And Philip 2, 12n.32, 72–3, 72n.43, 86–7, 117n.42, 120–1, 124, 135n.94, 145–6, 189–90, 193–4, 220n.133, 238–40, 243, 246, 318–19, 334 And Rome 84–5, 127–8, 171–2, 182–3, 239–40, 284–5 Barbarians 178–80, 188–90 Death of Antigonus Doson 50–1 In Macedonian army 215n.125 Lemboi 13 see also Demetrius of Pharus, Genthius, Scerdilaidas, Teuta Imperialism, Roman 12, 166n.6, 176–8 Irrationality 1, 176–84, 193, 273–4 Antiochus’ 304–5 Hannibal’s 319–20, 324 Philip’s 17–18, 79, 193–5, 199–202, 208, 223–4, 323–4 Isocrates 105, 166n.5, 185n.69, 191, 256n.83, 270n.10, 271n.13 Isthmian Games 171–2, 219–21, 220n.132, 286–7 Italy 6n.12, 20, 21n.71, 72–3, 79, 130n.72, 133–4, 169, 248–9, 304–5 And Hannibal 316–21 Philip’s intentions towards 87n.69, 189–90, 193–4, 234–5, 235n.26, 238–40, 318–19, 321–2, 322n.152, 334 Ithome, Mt, Messenian citadel 82, 87–90, 95, 97, 98n.91 Kingship 2, 11, 176–8 And Philip V 69–72, 185–90, 194–5, 280–1 Polybius on 69n.32, 70–2, 180–2, 190–3, 193n.83, 285–91 Kinship 18–19, 136n.96, 161–2, 176–8, 197n.94, 251n.62

Laconia(n) 54–5, 87–90, 291–2 Lade, battle of 128n.67, 144n.118, 200, 246–9, 330n.1, 332–3 Larissa(ns) 10n.27, 63n.14, 148–9, 149n.130, 171–2, 215–16 Larissa Cremaste 121–2, 208, 220 Laws of war 15n.42, 17–18, 40n.45, 64–9, 73–4, 77–8, 96, 137, 188–9, 208 Leadership 13, 18–19, 24, 32–3, 36–7, 52–3, 55n.79, 66n.24, 69–70, 82–3, 86–7, 102–3, 106–8, 107n.13, 183–5, 194–5, 199–200, 214–15, 223–5, 261, 291–5, 299, 301–4, 316–17, 319, 324–5, 329–30 League of Corinth 107–8, 108n.14, 112n.29 Legions, Roman 218–19, 321–2 Leontius, Macedonian courtier 43, 60n.6, 62–3, 72–3, 95, 97–8, 184n.67, 188–9 Lepreum (Triphylia) 88–92, 186–7 Lesser Attalid Dedication 204, 204n.107 Leucas 60–1, 160–1 Limnaea 60–2, 73–4, 159–60 Lissus 11, 77n.53, 120n.46, 220n.133, 318–19 Livy 7 And Polybius 7, 7n.17, 102–3, 106–7, 125n.62, 126–7, 134, 138–40, 139n.106, 142–3, 143n.113, 146n.125, 148, 148n.129, 152, 154–7, 162–3, 169–70, 201–2, 206, 209n.116, 212n.121, 214–15, 214n.123, 224n.138, 229, 257, 263–4, 280–1, 280n.43, 299–300, 300n.91, 304–5, 312n.127, 313 Athenian speech, Philip as barbarian 170, 201–2 Defection of Acarnanian League 159–62 Defection of Achaean League 152–6 Defection of Boeotian League 156–9 Chronological errors 125n.60 Lack of information for 203–201 BC 128, 138, 138n.102 On Antiochus’ war with Rome 299–300, 300n.91, 304–6 On Hannibal-Philip V treaty 318–19 On Perseus 311–13 On Philip V, 213–208 BC 120–7 On Philip V, 200–196 BC 140–51, 206 On Philip V’s last year 230–2, 248–9, 257 Logismos 178–83, 191, 204–5, 223–4, And Philip V 186–8, 191–7, 200, 202–4, 210–11, 217–18, 223–5 See Irrationality Lychnidus 122 Lyciscus, Acarnanian commander 167–9, 171–2, 283, 292–3 Lycortas, father of Polybius 5, 90–1, 175

  Lycurgus, Spartan king 62, 110–11, 122n.50, 164, 295 Lycurgus, Spartan lawgiver 182n.58, 278 Lysimacheia 101–4, 127–8, 128n.66, 137–8, 198–9, 208–10, 305 Macedonian War(s) 1st 3–4, 3n.5, 21n.71, 79, 120–8, 137–8, 144–5, 147n.127, 151, 153–4, 153n.140, 159–60, 167–8, 170–2, 176, 196–7, 204–5, 220, 239–40 2nd 3–4, 3n.5, 7, 59n.2, 130n.72, 140–63, 171–2, 204–27, 229n.1, 240, 245, 259–60, 286–7, 308–9nn.116–118, 309, 323 3rd 3–5, 24, 164–6, 172, 183–4, 224–5, 234, 234n.19, 249, 289, 308n.114, 309–12, 310n.123 Machanidas, Spartan regent 121–2, 122n.50, 124–6, 137–8, 192–3 Magnesia 2–3, 116, 125n.62, 147 Magnesia ad Sipylum, battle of 218–19, 305–6, 307n.113 Mantinea(ns) 6n.14, 39–42, 50–1, 54–5, 55n.80, 56–8, 56n.85, 67–8, 68n.30, 81, 202–3 Maronea(ns) 229, 233, 240 Megaleas, Macedonian courtier 43, 60n.6, 184n.67 Megalopolis 4–6, 34n.27, 36–7, 43–7, 50–2, 149, 152–3, 155–7, 161–2, 166–7, 172, 175, 203, 209n.116, 282n.45, 292 Memoirs 31–40, 42–3, 46, 48, 53–4, 73, 331 Mercenaries 31n.15, 43–4, 133n.87, 134, 178–9, 179n.43, 215n.125, 216, 237, 247n.53, 262–4, 296 Messene, Messenia(ns) And Philip 62, 71–2, 102–3 Philip’s attempt to garrison (215 BC) 8, 24, 59, 69, 73, 81–93, 101–2, 108, 155, 186–7, 193–6, 243 Connection with episode at Thermum (215) 93–9, 117, 170, 262, 279–80 Importance assigned by Polybius 84–6, 92–3, 195–6, 332 Philip’s turn for the worse 81–3, 85–6, 101–2, 117–18, 123, 128, 162–3, 170, 173, 186–7, 190, 194–6, 279–81 Philip’s second attack on city (213) 85–6, 101–2, 193–6 Stasis and massacre 81–2, 118, 137, 186–7 see also Achaea(ns)/Achaean League and Messene, Aratus of Sicyon and Philip at Messene, Ithome, Thermum Metapa 73–4 Mob-rule see ochlocracy Molon, Seleucid rebel 300–1

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Molossian(s) 172n.22, 176–8, 178n.40 Monarchy 191, 194–5, 288–90, 295, 313–16, 323–4, 326 Macedonian 3–4, 8–10, 194–5, 245, 261 Sparta 38n.37 Motivation(s) 17–18, 77n.52, 79–80, 228, 235–6, 239, 242, 270–1, 276–7, 316 Mytilene(ans) 21n.71, 252 Nabis, ruler of Sparta 142, 142n.111, 144–5, 149–50, 152–4, 179n.44, 192–3 Naupactus, peace of (217 BC) 10n.25, 21, 60–1, 86–8, 91–2, 105–6, 113–14, 114n.37, 117n.42, 120–1, 143–4, 144n.117, 189–90, 193–5, 201–2, 239–40, 307–8 Naval, power and strategy Aetolian 111, 116 Antigonid 13, 60–1, 60n.5, 86–7, 117n.42, 206n.111, 243 Pergamene and Rhodian 139, 143–4 Nemean Games (209) 101–2, 122–3, 127, 162–3, 196–7, 196n.92, 200n.100, 279–80 Neon, father of Brachylles, friend of Macedon 157–9 New Carthage 148n.129, 174, 204–5 Nicaea, conference of 135n.95, 148, 157–8, 168n.11, 206–15, 217–18, 222, 286–7, 289–90 Nicander, Aetolian strategos, friend of Philip V 226, 226n.142, 229, 278–80 Nicephorium 79–80, 170, 199–200, 211 Ochlocracy 180–1, 182n.59, 193, see also democracy Oeniadae 110–11, 113n.33, 159–60, 186–7, 191–2 Oikoumene, inhabited world 254, 267–70, 283–5 oligarchy 180–1 Olympiads 21–2 Opuntian Locris 108n.17, 125, 149 Opus/Opuntians 125–6 Oratory 253, 261–2 see also Polybius rhetoric, rhetoric(al) Orchomenus (Arcadia) 43–4, 50–1, 53–5, 87–92, 102, 146–7, 153n.140 Oreus 54–5, 125–7, 142, 146, 161–3, 220–1, 255 Paeonia(ns) 88–9, 248–9, 262–3 Pale (Cephallenia) 62, 75, 110–11, 116 Panhellenism 105n.7, 176n.34, 185n.69, See also Hellenism Pausanias, author 65–6 Pausanias, Spartan king 67–8 Pella 121, 166n.5, 262n.103, 313

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Peloponnese And Achaean League 54–6, 183, 286 And Aratus 8, 27, 33, 35–8, 42–3, 47, 54–5, 57, 89–93, 98–9 And Macedonian kings 2–3, 49–56, 60–2, 60n.6, 70–3, 82, 84–5, 87n.72, 88n.75, 89–100, 102, 106–8, 116, 116n.41, 122, 124–5, 149–50, 243, 259–60 And Messenia 87–8 And Taurion 98, 108 Peltasts 62, 215n.125, 216 Pergamum 77n.53, 79–80, 128n.67, 153–4, 162, 170–2, 199–200, 204, 247–8, 303n.103, see also Attalus I of Pergamum, Eumenes II of Pergamum, Nicephorium Perseus, king of Macedon And Eumenes 311–12, 315–16, 322–3, 326 And Genthius 311 And Philip V 201n.101, 313–15 And Rome 3–4, 230n.3, 234–5, 245, 248–9, 308–11 Avarice 311–12, 314–15 Contra Philip II/Alexander the Great 105, 238–9, 284–5, 291 Cowardice 312–15 Defeat by Rome 4–6, 23–4, 164, 183–4, 245 Dispute with Demetrius 7, 231–2, 248–9, 308 End of kingdom/symploke 2, 5–6, 23–4, 314 Executor of father’s war 3–4, 105, 105n.8, 234, 238–9, 313–14 Greek support in Third Macedonian War 165–6, 166n.4, 172n.22, 234, 308–11 Indecisiveness 17–18, 246–7, 246n.52, 314–15 Lineage 155–6, 156n.152 Succession 263–4 Stationed at Tempe 121 Portrayal by Plutarch 8 Portrayal by Polybius 241, 286n.51, 308–16 Persia(ns) 23–4, 67–8, 70n.35, 105n.8, 167–8, 171–2, 177n.36, 300–1 Anti-Persian rhetoric 176, 192–3 Constitution 176–8 Characteristic/stereotyping 176–8, 186n.71, 192–3 Persian King 194–5, 317n.139 Persians/Persian Empire 23–4, 67–8, 176–8, 186n.71, 192–5, 316n.138 Persian War(s) 67–8, 105, 176–8, 204 Persian Wars 67–8, 70n.35, 105, 176–8, 204 Phalanx, Macedonian 60–1, 172, 214–19, 312n.128 Phigalia (Arcadia) 87–9

Philia 138, 154n.147, see also friendship Philip II, of Macedon 2, 12, 26, 34, 34n.27, 105, 166n.5, 167–8, 185n.69, 202–3, 286n.51, 291–5, 326 And Hellenic League 107–8, 108n.15 And Philip V 64, 68–71, 105, 238–9, 264, 284–5, 287, 314, 326 Theopompus’ account of 92n.83, 270–1, 281–5, 325–6 Philip V, of Macedon And Achaeans see Achaea(ns)/Achaean League and Philip V And Antiochus see Antiochus III and Philip V/pact with Philip V And Apelles see Apelles, Philip’s guardian And Aratus of Sicyon see Aratus of Sicyon and Philip V Attempts on Messene see Messene, Messenia(ns) Attack on Thermum see Thermum, Philip’s attack on As barbaric see Barbarian(s), Philip V Biographical treatment 267, 278–81 As Darling/eromenos of the Greeks see Darling of the Greeks, eromenos And Demetrius, son see Demetrius, son of Philip V And Demetrius of Pharus see Demetrius of Pharus and Philip V And Flamininus see Quinctius Flamininus C. and Philip V And Hannibal see Hannibal and Philip V And Illyria(ns) see Illyria(ns) and Philip V And Italy see Italy, Philip’s intentions towards And Nemeans Games see Nemean Games And Perseus 3–4, 105, 105n.8, 201n.101, 234, 238–9, 248–9, 284–5, 313–15 see also Perseus and Philip V And Philip II/Alexander 64, 68–71, 105, 238–9, 264, 284–5, 287–8, 291–5 And Prusias I of Bithynia 196n.92, 286n.51 And Ptolemy IV Philopator 295–9 And Ptolemy V 24, 119, 127–8, 197, 247n.53, 297n.84, 299n.90, 303–4, 313–16 And Rhodes/Rhodians see Rhodes/Rhodians and Philip V And Romans see Cynoscephalae, battle of; Quinctius Flamininus C. and Philip V; Macedonian Wars; Naupactus, conference of; Nicaea, conference of Connection in Histories 164–5 Macedon-Rome question 165–74 Exchange of cultural status 181–2, 184, 201–6, 219–21, 223–5, 286–7

  Philip’s cooperation with 226–7, 229, 240 Declining relations in 180s 226–7, 229, 233–7, 240 And son Demetrius see Demetrius, son of Philip And universal dominion 237–41 As tragic figure 259–65 As tyrant see Tyranny/tyrant(s) Philip V Consistency and decisiveness 246–9 Execution of friends and leading Macedonians 212, 259–60, 262–3, 263n.106, 278–9 Policies in last years 262–4 Speed 62–3, 75, 104, 110n.24, 124, 146, 188, 214–15, 237–8, 317–18, 334n.6 Philippopolis 88–9, 89n.77, 102 see also Phthiotic Thebes Philocles, Macedonian courtier 150, 155–6, 233–5 Philopoemen 175, 175n.32, 183–4 And Messene 90–1 And Philip V 144n.120 And Romans 169n.16 Encomium by Polybius 270–3, 270n.10 In the Histories 271–3, 276–7, 289, 316–17, 324–6 Military command and reforms 142, 144–5 Philos, philoi 49n.66, 121, 130n.72, 184–5, 184n.67, 233 see also Friends, Royal Philinus 27–8, 28n.1, 30, 32–3 Phocis, Phocians 60–1, 68, 108, 113n.33, 124, 125n.62, 126–7, 130n.72, 140, 149, 151, 153–4, 212–13, 212n.121 Phoenice, treaty of 159–60 Phthia, mother of Philip V 2 Phthiotic Achaea see Achaea, Phthiotic Phthiotic Thebes 88–9, 89n.77, 102, 116, see also Philippolis Phylarchus 31–3, 35–9, 56–7, 296n.79, 331 Polybius’ criticism of 27–8, 28n.1, 32–3, 39–42, 44–5, 57–8, 232–3, 250, 252–3, 261–2 Pindar 112n.29 Piracy/pirates 127–8, 131–2, 131n.76, 198–9 Plato 66n.21, 180n.48, 181n.51, 193n.82, 256n.83 Plator, brother of King Genthius 311n.125 Plator, Macedonian commander 125 Plutarch 8, 8n.19, 65–6, 268–9, 268nn.4–5, 275nn.29–31, 280–1, 280n.43 And Aratus of Sicyon 33, 33n.25, 35–9, 40n.42, 43–9, 49n.67, 51–7, 76, 81–2, 97, 277, 277n.36 And Aratus’ Memoirs 31–2 And Achaean actions against Mantinea and Aristomachus 39–41, 56–7, 67–8 And Cleomenes III of Sparta 296n.79

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And Messenian stasis 81–2, 97 see also Messene, Messenians And Philip at Nemean Games 122–3 see also Nemean Games And Philip’s attempt on Philopoemen 144n.120 And praise for Thucydides 252 And vividness 252, 252n.69 Integrated characterization 277 Two pictures of Philip V 8 Politeia(i) Achaean 183 And Hellenic/barbarian image 180–2, 219 Carthaginian 180n.47 Cycle of 180–1 Macedonian 219 Meaning in Polybius 180n.48 Roman 24, 219 Fragility of singular form 290 See also Constitution(s), Polybius Book 6 Polycratia 10n.27, 121–3, 123n.53, 155–6, 155n.151, 156n.152 Polybius Achaean background and perspective 13–15, 14n.35, 25, 27–58, 92–3, 114–15, 135, 137, 162–3, 165, 194–5, 288–90, 288n.54, 294–5, 307–8, 314, 323, 328–9 And Arcadia 5, 166–7, 282n.45 And audience 17n.54, 18–19, 24, 30–1, 84n.66, 165, 170, 174–5, 184, 203, 210, 214–15, 218–19, 223–4, 237–9, 244–5, 250, 252–3, 255–6, 261–2, 264–6, 268–9, 276, 283–4, 292–3, 334 And biographical presentation of individuals see biography/biographical And character motivation 235–6 And Demetrius of Phalerum see Demetrius of Phalerum And hindsight and teleology 241–4 And Livy see Livy and Polybius And Plato 180n.48, 181n.51 And Scipionic circle 6n.11 And symploke see Symploke And tragic history see Tragedy and history And tragic mode see Tragedy/tragic elements in Polybius And truth see Truthfulness and Polybius And Xenophon 65–6, 180n.48, 191n.79, 252, 273n.18, 316–17, 317n.139, 321n.151 And Zeno of Rhodes 29, 132, 132n.80, 134n.91 Book 6 18–19, 117n.42, 180–1, 183–4, 190–3, 196–7, 199–201, 204–5, 219, 268–9, 278–9, 284–5, 287–9, 301, 328–9

388

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Polybius (cont.) Career 2–3 Causation 16n.50, 21–2, 24, 244–5, 254, 258–9, 313–14 Detainment in Rome 5–6, 5n.10 Expansion of Histories after 167 224–5 Histories as diplomacy 1 Literary turn in scholarship 16–17 Omissions 33, 38–9, 43, 46, 53–4, 65, 69, 76–7, 92–3, 192n.80, 248, 262, 270–3, 319, 333–4 On Achaean League see Achaea(ns)/Achaean League, depiction and defence by Polybius On Aratus of Sicyon see Aratus of Sicyon portrayal by Polybius On Aetolia(ns) see Aetolia(ns) Polybius’ depiction On Boeotia(ns) see Boeotia(ns)/Boeotian League depiction by Polybius On kingship see Kings/kingship On old age 122–3 On Philip V at Messene see Messene On Perseus see Perseus portrayal by Polybius On Philinus 27–8, 28n.1, 30, 32–3 On Phylarchus see Phylarchus On Philip at Thermum see Thermum On Timaeus 27–8, 28n.1 On Theopompus 93n.85, 270–1, 281–5, 292–4, 325–6 Patterns in his Histories 196n.89, 236n.31, 250n.60 Polemic 14–15, 27–8, 28n.1, 30, 32–3, 37, 92–3, 232–3, 252–3, 261–2, 292–3, 331–2, see also Polybius on Philinus, on Phylarchus, on Timaeus Rhetoric 8–11, 14–15, 85–6, 96–7, 252–3, 253n.75, 261–2, 261n.100, 267, 271n.13, 293–4, 333–4 Speeches in history 106n.9, 167 Disputing Macedon-Rome allegiance 167–73 Sources 17–18, 36–7, 123, 152, 156–7, 196n.88, 206–7, 213, 214n.124, 218n.129, 226n.142, 256, 303n.104, 308n.115, 311n.126, 331–3 Style 16–17, 19–20, 245–6, 261, 264–5 Views on religion 28–9, 29n.8, 65–6 Polyrrhenia 108–9, 132, 133n.87 Pragmatic history 18–19, 21–2, 267–8, 273n.19, 333–4 Prophecy, of Demetrius of Phalerum 23–4, 333 Prusias I of Bithynia 135–7, 197–8, 197n.94 Prusias II of Bithynia 196n.92, 286n.51 Psophis 77n.53, 89–90, 111, 114, 186–7 Ptolemies 12, 88n.75, 155n.151, 245, 299n.89, 306–7, 313–16

Ptolemy IV 16–17, 21n.71, 26, 85–6, 164, 240, 247n.53, 286n.51, 287, 289–91, 295–301, 304–5, 307–8, 326 Ptolemy V 24, 119, 127–8, 197, 247n.53, 297n.84, 299n.90, 303–4, 313–16 Ptolemy VI 286n.51, 289–90, 306–7, 315–16 Ptolemy VIII 286n.51, 289–90, 306–7, 315–16 Punic Wars 8–10, 180n.47, 284–5 1st 30, 189–90, 237 2nd 14n.40, 172n.25, 183–4, 316 3rd 9n.22, 289 Pydna, battle of (168 BC) 3–6, 24, 164n.1, 218–19, 246n.52, 310–13, 313n.130 Pyrrhus 2–3, 31–2 Quinctius Flamininus, C. (tr. pl. 232, cos. 223) 9n.24 And Boeotians 156–9, 224–5 And Demetrius son of Philip 234n.20, 248–9 And Epirus 151–2, 151n.135 And Nabis 149–50, 179n.44 And Philip V 156–7, 172n.21, 206–7, 209–17, 219–23, 286–7, 289–90 And proclamation of Greek freedom 168n.10, 222–3, 286–7, 289–90 As saviour 219–24, 223n.135, 286–7, 289–90 At Cynoscephalae 214–18 Violence of 153–4, 154n.144 Quinctius Flamininus, L. And Acarnanians 159–60 Violence of 153–4, 154n.144 Raphia, the battle of 297, 299, 301–3 Reason, rationality see logismos Religion/religious Philip’s attack on religious sites 63–4, 64n.16, 66–7, 73–80, 94, 188–9, 330n.1 Philip V’s policies/administration 10–11, 10n.27, 13, 63, 102–3 Polybius’ views on religion 28–9, 29n.8, 65–6 Protection/inviolability of religious sites 65nn.19–20 Alexander’s careful treatment of 69–70, 292–3 Roman superstition 174 Shared Greek customs 176–8 Revolution(s) 84–5, 193 Rhetoric(al) 16n.51, 176, 252, 261–2, 271n.13, see also Polybius rhetoric, oratory Rhium 77, 113–14 Rhodes, Rhodians 21n.71, 139n.103, 255 And Cretans 103–4, 127–8, 130–5 And Heracleides 103–4

  And Philip V 103–5, 130–9, 142–4, 147, 153n.140, 154–5, 162, 332–3 And Romans 139, 143–4, 147, 154–5, 162 Rome, Romans And Acarnanians see Acarnania(ns) and Rome And Achaeans see Achaea(ns)/Achaean League and Rome And Aetolians see Aetolia(ns) and Rome And Antiochus see Antiochus III and Rome And Boeotians see Boeotia(ns) and Rome And Hannibal see Hannibal and Rome And Perseus see Perseus and Rome And Philip see Philip V and Romans As barbarians see Barbarian(s) Romans As Hellenic 182–4, 203–5 Constitution see Constitution(s) Roman Violence and brutality 126–7, 148n.129, 151–4, 154n.144, 156–7, 161–2, 171–2, 223–4 Samos 127–8 Samos, son of Chrysogonus 63–4, 63n.14, 262–3, 263n.105 Saviour(s) 54–5, 175–6, 213–14, 222–3, 257, 286–7, 292 Scerdilaidas, Illyrian king 87n.69, 88–9, 111, 117n.42, 171–2, 186–7 Scipio Aemilianus see Cornelius Scipio Africanus Aemilianus, P. Scipio Africanus see Cornelius Scipio Africanus, P. Scipionic circle 6n.11 Scodra 11, 220n.133 Scopas II, Aetolian leader 108–9, 121–2, 208, 208n.115 Seleucids 4–5, 12, 88n.75, 244–5, 301n.95, 313–14, see also Antiochus III, Antiochus IV, Antiochus V, Demetrius I Sellasia, battle of 31–2, 34n.27, 50–1, 53–4, 69–71, 88n.73, 112n.30, 157–8, 186–7 Senate, Roman 142n.111, 184n.67, 212–13, 221, 229, 234–7, 255, 309–10 Carthaginian 317 Sicyon 31–3, 32n.16, 41, 41n.48, 54–5, 61, 115–16, 121–3, 142n.111, 152–3 Social War (220–217 BC) 3–4, 21, 59–61, 62n.10, 72n.43, 76–7, 86–91, 105, 108–9, 112–13, 116–17, 120–1, 122n.50, 127–9, 134, 143n.116, 148–9, 153n.140, 159–60, 164, 179n.45, 185–6, 189–90, 208, 301, 318–19, 334–5 Sosibius, Ptolemaic courtier 85–6, 178–9, 200n.100, 296–7 Sparta(ns) 34, 38–9, 67–8 And Achaeans see Achaea(ns)/Achaean League and Sparta

389

And Aetolians see Aetolia(ns) and Sparta And Antigonus III Doson 2–3, 50–3, 58, 69–71 And Messenia 87–8 And Philip II 291–2 And Philip V 59–62, 70–1, 96–7, 104, 111–13, 117, 124–5, 142–5, 153n.140, 157–8, 186–8, 191–2, 243, 257, 279n.41, 289–90, 292–3, 301, 317 Constitution see Constitution(s) Sparta Decline of 181 Greek status 176–80 Polybius’ depiction of 179–80, 179n.45 Speeches 167–8, 201–2, 293–4 See also Cleomenes III, Nabis, Lycurgus Spartan king, Lycurgus Spartan lawgiver, Machanidas Statues 6n.14, 53–4, 63–5, 78, 141, 199–200 Strategos, strategoi 5, 40–1, 43n.55, 44–7, 61–2, 116n.40, 143n.115, 207, 209, 224–6, 226n.142, 278–9 Stymphalus, battle of 110 Succession Hereditary 192–3, 193n.83 Monarchic fragility 289–90, 315–16 Of Perseus 234–5, 234n.20, 263–4, 309n.118 Of Philip V 48, 111–12, 185 Of infant Ptolemy V 197 Of several new world leaders 4–5 Sulpicius Galba, P. 122–3, 125, 141, 145–6, 153–5 Symmachy, Hellenic League And Macedonian power 55n.81 And Messenia 30n.13, 87–8, 94 And Philip V 59, 59n.2, 71–2, 75–6, 81–2, 102–4, 106–14, 116, 122, 126–7, 131–2, 143–4, 146n.125, 186–7, 191–4, 292–3 As “the Greeks” 104–5 Dissolution 151n.134, 152 Established by Doson 2–3, 54–5, 54n.78, 107–8 Members of 88n.73, 89, 103–4, 108, 108n.17, 126–7, 132, 140, 146n.125, 159–60 Objectives of 76, 109–10, 112–13, 116, 143–4, 186–90 Inactive after Naupactus 143–4, 144n.117 Symploke 21–5, 185n.69, 332 Macedon as beginning and end of 164–5, 313–14 Perseus ends 308 Philip V’s initiation of 105–6, 164–5, 288, 307–8, 326–7, 330–1 Synchronism(s) 325n.157

390

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Synedrion 108 see Council, Symmachy Syrian war(s) 8–10 see Coele-Syrian Wars Taurion, Macedonian courtier 60n.6, 98–9, 107n.13, 108–9, 184n.67, 185n.68, 186 Tegea 6n.14, 40, 50–1, 111–12, 292–3 Teuta, queen of Illyria 189n.77 Thebes, Thebans 156–7, 215–16, 220 Alexander’s treatment of 70, 112, 112n.29, 292–5 Theopompus of Chios see Polybius on Theopompus Theoxena 230–2, 263n.104, 333 Thermopylae 124 Battle of (191 BC) 305 Thermum Aetolian capital/sanctuary 63 And Aratus see Aratus of Sicyon and Philip V at Thermum And Demetrius of Pharus see Demetrius of Pharus and Thermum Philip’s coinage 11, 11n.31 Philip’s attack on (218) 15n.42, 17–18, 24, 41–2, 59–81, 102–3, 167–8, 188–9 See also Messene/Messenians Thessaly, Thessalians 2–3, 63n.14, 125n.62 And Flamininus 223n.135 And Perseus 165–6, 172, 172n.22, 234n.18 And Philip II 292 And Philip V 83–4, 101–2, 116, 119, 121, 146–9, 153–5, 162–3, 171–2, 206, 206n.111, 208–9, 215–16, 226–7, 229 And Social War 60n.4, 62, 62n.10, 75, 77, 77n.54, 108–10, 113n.33 And Second Macedonian War 145–6, 151–4 Members of Symmachy 108, 126–7 Part of Macedon 83–4, 115, 119 Thrace, Thracians And Antiochus III 304, 304n.106 And Perseus 234n.18, 248–9, 263–4 And Philip V 2–4, 8–10, 13n.34, 120–1, 127–8, 137–8, 140–1, 150–1, 209–10, 225–7, 229, 231–2, 239–40, 246, 259–60, 262–3, 278–9, 334 Characteristics/traits 176–80, 203n.105 In Philip V’s army 215n.125, 217 Thrasycrates of Rhodes 168–9, 169n.13, 170–2, 254, 333 Thucydides 16n.51, 65–8, 166n.5, 176–80, 251–2, 252n.69, 282 Timaeus of Tauromenium see Polybius on Timaeus

Tragedy/tragic And biography 280–1 And history 16n.51, 250–4 And Polybius’ Philip V 227, 249–50, 256–65, 279–80 Elements in Polybius 253–65, 333–4 Of Theoxena 231n.9 Trasimene, battle of 21, 87n.69, 113–14, 189–90, 193–4, 238, 317–21, 324 Treachery, treacherous And tragedy 265–6 As barbaric trait 179–80, 182–3 Current prevalence of 128–30 Of Aetolians 209–10 Of Aratus 35–6 Of Philip V 25, 103–4, 128, 130–2, 134–6, 139–40, 150, 152–3, 162–3, 167–8, 195–9, 209–10, 226, 237–8, 334 Of Prusias I 197–8 Of Romans 171–2 Polybius’ defence of Aristaenus 211n.120 Treaty/ies 137–8 Aetolians and Romans 159–60, 160n.162 Antiochus and Euthydemus I 301–3 Carthaginians and Romans 172n.25 Boeotians and Perseus 234n.18 Acarnanians and Philip 160–1 Aetolians and Philip 137–8 Antiochus III and Philip see Antiochus III, pact with Philip V Hannibal and Philip see Philip V and Hannibal Messenians and Philip 89–90 Of Apamea, see Apamea, treaty of Of Naupactus see Naupactus, treaty of Of Phoenice see Phoenice, treaty of Romans and Perseus 308–9 Romans and Philip V 308–9 Violation of peace treaties 103–5, 137–8, 322–3 Triphylia 87–9, 91–2, 102, 125n.60, 146–7, 153n.140 Truthfulness And biography 268–9, 274–6 And historiography 268–9, 272–3, 281 And Polybius 14–15, 14n.36, 17n.54, 18–20, 25, 27–31, 99–100, 117, 131–2, 242, 245–6, 252–3, 253n.75, 255n.81, 257–9, 265, 271n.13, 272–3, 281, 328–32, 334–5 Of Aratus’ Memoirs 31–3 Of Plutarch 8n.19, 268n.5 Of Phylarchus 39–40, 252–3 Tyche see also Fortune As stage director 254–6, 333 Caused rise of Rome and symploke 15–16, 23–5, 222, 227, 244–5, 268–9, 288–9

  Fickleness of 321–2, 322n.153 Prevents Hannibal’s success 321–4 Punishment of Antiochus III 313–14 Punishment of Philip V 99–100, 226–9, 233, 244–5, 267, 279–80, 313–14 Retributive 23 Unexpected/inexplicable 282–4, 301–3 Tyranny/Tyrant(s) And barbarism 180–1, 223–4 And Peloponnese 2–3, 49–50, 49n.68, 53–4, 55n.82 And Plutarch 44 And Polybius 40n.47, 41, 69n.32, 123n.52, 163, 179–81, 190–3, 287–9, 288n.53, 290 Aratus and Achaean League against 33–4, 41, 46, 49–50, 178–9, 286 Aristomachus III of Argos 39–41, 46 Cleomenes III of Sparta 38–9, 178–9 Lydiadas of Megalopolis 44–6 Macedonian state 219 Nabis of Sparta 179n.44 Perseus 310 Philip V 1, 8, 25, 64–5, 69–72, 82, 84–5, 99–100, 102–4, 117, 130, 139–40, 193–206, 226–7, 267, 279–80, 317, 323, 326–9 Ptolemy VIII 315–16 Spartan constitution 38n.37, 178–9, 179n.45, 181n.53 Universal dominion/dominance 182–3, 199, 200n.99, 235n.26, 288n.55, 311

391

Philip’s ambition 237–41, 247–8, 330n.1, 332–3 Universal history And Polybius, 15–16, 21–2, 22n.72, 25–6, 241–2, 267–8, 282–3, 285–6, 313–14, 325–6, 331–4 Of Diodorus 8–10, 9n.21 Vividness 215–17, 217n.128, 252, 252n.69, 333, see also enargeia Xenia, xenos 154–5, 154n.146, 157–8, 157n.155, 159 Xenophon 65–6, 157n.155, 176–8, 180n.48, 191n.79, 252, 252n.69, 273n.18, 316–17, 317n.139, 321n.151 Xerxes of Armenia 301–3 Xerxes, Persian King 67–8, 316–17, 317n.139 Philip V as 194–5, 204, 332–3 Youthfulness Antiochus III 300–1, 306–7 Hannibal 317–18, 317n.140, 320n.145, 323–4 Philip V 9n.24, 16–18, 70–1, 80, 82–3, 110n.24, 111n.27, 188, 237–8, 279n.41, 323–4 Zama, battle of 204–5, 320–2 Zeno of Rhodes see Polybius on Zeno of Rhodes Zeus 11, 63–6, 63n.15, 65n.20, 70–1, 75–6, 155–6, 223 Zonaras, Johannes 8–10