The Political Biographies of Cornelius Nepos 0472118382, 9780472118380

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CHAPTER 1 Nepos and His Corpus Nepos and Catullus Cui dono lepidum novum libellum arido modo pumice expolitum? Corneli, tibi: namque tu solebas meas esse aliquid putare nugas iam tum, cum ausus es unus Italorum omne aevum tribus explicare cartis doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis.1 [To whom am I giving my charming new little book, freshly polished up with dry pumice stone? To you, Cornelius: for you were accustomed to think that my trifles were worth something, as long ago as when you, alone of the Italians, dared to set out all of time in three rolls, learned ones, by Jove, and full of labor.] These lines open the modern corpus of Catullus, and they also provide a productive opening to an assessment of Cornelius Nepos, their dedicatee.2 Page 2 → On the surface, these lines return a literary compliment from Nepos to Catullus, one Transpadane to another.3 Because Nepos thought Catullus' trifles to be worth something, Catullus dedicates his new little book to him in return, along with apparent praise for Nepos' three learned and labored rolls that explicate all of time. The description alludes to Nepos' Chronica, a reference work that sought to integrate the chronologies of famous people and events from throughout Mediterranean history and culture. From it, one could learn such things as when the poets Homer and Hesiod lived relative to the date of Rome's foundation, during the reign of which Roman king the poet Archilochus flourished, and during whose consulships Alexander the Great was born.4 The scope of the work not only correlated such notable moments in literature and politics but also included other cultural information, such as when Milo of Croton was first crowned at the Olympics. It went as far back as to include the human activities of Saturn.5 The flavor of Nepos' Chronica can be sampled in the chronological breviarium of Gellius 17.21, in the course of which Nepos is cited three times.6 Especially relevant is Gellius' description of his criteria for inclusion (17.21.1): excerpebamus ex libris, qui chronici appellantur, quibus temporibus floruissent Graeci simul atque Romani viri, qui vel ingenio vel imperio nobiles insignesque…fuissent. [From the books called Chronicles we excerpted the dates at which there flourished men—Greek as

well as Roman—who had become well known and distinguished either for their genius or for their power.]

Page 3 → Greeks and Romans are to be interrelated chronologically, whether famous for their artistic or for their political achievements (vel ingenio vel imperio). Nepos' Chronica appears to have shared these governing principles, and Catullus explicitly says that Nepos was the first Italian (unus Italorum, 1.5) ever to have attempted such a work. Its interest to philhellenic Romans like Catullus can easily be imagined. Nothing survives of the actual text of Nepos' Chronica, however—we have only the barest of references to its contents—so there is no way to measure Catullus' praise for the work against the work itself. Catullus, by everyone's judgment, is charming and daring and new, but can the same be said of Nepos? What is known of earlier Roman literary history does support Catullus' claim that the Chronica was innovative,7 so the question becomes whether Catullus is sincerely praising it for its learning and labor. Or, since “unqualified admiration was not the done thing in the Catullan circle,” is there an ironic undertone that Nepos expends the labor but lacks the charm?8 Tracing the answers to these questions vividly demonstrates the current range of scholarly esteem for Nepos and how it developed. In the first half of the twentieth century, Catullus' poem to Nepos was largely accepted at face value,9 but the second half of the century generated a whole spectrum of opinion about the relationship between the poet and his dedicatee. In 1951, Frank Copley established the negative end of the spectrum. He compared Catullus' opening poem to the extant biographical corpus of Nepos, scoured it for evidence of Catullan sensibilities, and came away disappointed. He describes Nepos as “dull and pedantic” and thus considers Catullus' poem a “forced compliment” from a revolutionary new poet to a traditional senior author.10 J. P. Elder took up Copley's reading in 1966 and established the midpoint of the spectrum. He transformed Copley's terms into a Callimachean positioning for Catullus and an Ennian positioning for Nepos.11 The value of the transformation is to redeem the personal relationship Page 4 → of Catullus and Nepos, for under Elder's reading, Catullus is “inviting the Neposes, the literate elders of Rome, to accept this admittedly ‘new’ kind of Latin poetry.” This invitation, moreover, is made “amiably” and “good-naturedly” between friends, hence Catullus' compliments to Nepos, although self-interested, are genuine and not forced, and Nepos becomes the symbol of traditional tastes rather than pedantic ones.12 In 1969, Francis Cairns and Philip Levine independently advanced Elder's depiction of Catullus' Callimacheanism, followed by David Singleton in 1972. All three stress the correlation in the poem between, on the one hand, the Alexandrian qualities of daring innovation, learning, and care that Catullus attributes to Nepos (ausus es unus Italorum, doctis et laboriosis, 1.5–7) and, on the other, those same implicit qualities in his own charmingly new and freshly polished little book (1.1–2).13 Catullus constructs Nepos to embody his own sensibilities, and Nepos' priorities are presented as a historical reflection of Catullus' poetic ones. Hence Nepos is not a traditionalist but, rather, an innovative neoteric like Catullus, with the one writing in prose and the other in poetry.14 Copley's description of Nepos as a “dull and pedantic scholar” whom Catullus could not honestly praise comes under specific attack.15 As Singleton explains, “the conclusion is that Nepos and his work are depicted in a way that, though lightly humorous (note the expletive Iuppiter), is wholly and extremely laudatory.”16 T. P. Wiseman solidly buttressed this interpretation in 1979 by contextualizing the shared intellectual world of Catullus and Nepos amid the Hellenistic literary tradition. For Wiseman, “there was never a historian more likely than Nepos to treat his material in a manner sympathetic to a doctus poeta.”17 Page 5 → Thus did a spectrum of scholarly opinion develop between 1950 and 1980 regarding the literary character of Nepos, as constructed through Catullus' opening poem. On one end of the spectrum, Nepos is so dull and pedantic in practice that Catullus cannot be sincere in his dedication. On the other end, Nepos is an intellectual partner of

Catullus and merely writes in a related genre. In the middle is a blend of the two, a Nepos who shares some of Catullus' literary values but is not to be understood as demonstrating similarly Alexandrian literary values. Everyone at least acknowledges the programmatic importance of Catullus' poem and thus the implication of some literary affinity with its dedicatee.18 Yet the degree and the sincerity of that affinity remain open questions, for the full range of the spectrum is still in scholarly play thirty years later.19 Jeffrey Tatum, for example, cites Wiseman and “configure[s] Nepos as the poet's alter ego” and “ideal reader,”20 whereas B. J. Gibson argues that Catullus' ironic disparagement of his own work in this poem justifies searching for irony in the praise the poet offers to Nepos: that is, since Catullus' poems are more than “trifles,” Nepos' rolls are more laborious than learned.21 John Rauk advocates a modified version of Elder's view, in which Catullus and Nepos share some innovative literary values but not necessarily neoteric ones.22 He compares poem 53, in which Catullus relates Page 6 → how, at a trial where his friend Calvus was speaking energetically, a member of the crowd remarked that he was “an articulate little prick” (or something similar—the precise but likely obscene sense of salaputium disertum in 53.5 is unclear). In Rauk's reading of both poems 1 and 53, Catullus is remarking on how the outside world perceives the achievement of his friends, and he offers judgments to tease his friends for their success even while ultimately being supportive of them. Unlike Elder's conception of Catullus' Nepos as a senior literary figure, Rauk has Catullus make Nepos an equal who is thereby deserving of being teased like one.23 One reason for this continuing range of scholarly opinion derives from the different perspectives from which Catullus' dedicatory poem is being evaluated. If the basis is the ironic persona of the poet himself, then the praise for Nepos appears mixed. If the basis is the larger intellectual patterns of a pair of Transpadanes in Roman literary circles in the middle of the first century BCE, then the praise for Nepos appears apt. Yet what if the basis is a comparison of Nepos' extant work with that of Catullus? There has not yet been a clear answer to Copley, who went directly to the extant text of Nepos and found that his “biographies may justly cause us to feel some doubt of his poetic fire.”24 The plausibility of Nepos as a literary figure with the Alexandrian sensibilities of Catullus has been ably demonstrated by Wiseman and his forerunners, but the execution of those sensibilities is not visible in Nepos' extant corpus. Pointing to the Greco-Roman cultural relativism that Nepos advocates in the preface to his sole extant biographical book, Wiseman describes Nepos' Lives as “a sort of crash course to help the ordinary reader in a literary world where ignorance of things Greek was no longer tolerable.” From the meager fragments, that also seems a fair statement of the Chronica's purpose. But it is hardly what Catullus is doing, and the charm of his poetry does not fit easily with the prosaic features of Nepos' extant corpus. Wiseman, in fact, ends his discussion by distancing himself from any endorsement of Nepos' literary success: Catullus “was a great artist, [Nepos] not, but their intellectual heritage was the same.”25 Gibson, although on the ironic side of the sincerity Page 7 → debate, notes how, in two extant passages (Epam. 4.6; Pref. 8), Nepos emphasizes his seemingly Callimachean concern to achieve brevity out of sources that are many thousands of lines.26 Such a concern furthers the justification for the consideration of Nepos as an Alexandrian, but what makes an author Alexandrian is not so much brevity itself as the manner in which the author achieves it.27 Hence the problem remains one of execution: the extant corpus of Nepos cannot be shown to demonstrate stylistic traits comparable to Catullus' Alexandrian sensibilities. What is needed, therefore, is a study of Nepos for his own sensibilities. Consider, for example, a passage from Nepos' extant biography of Cato the Elder, in which his assessment of Cato as a historical author involves exaggeration and paradox in a manner suggestive of Catullus' dedicatory poem to Nepos. Nepos' tone throughout the Cato is favorable, and he claims that it was hard to find any subject, Greek or Italian, that was unknown to Cato (3.2).28 Yet he ends with a criticism (3.4): in eisdem exposuit, quae in Italia Hispaniisque aut fierent aut viderentur admiranda: in quibus multa industria et diligentia comparet, nulla doctrina. [In this same work [the Origines], he set out the amazing things in Italy and Spain that occurred or were seen. His presentation showed great industry and carefulness, but no learning.] If one sees pedantry in Nepos and irony in Catullus 1, “one might wonder whether Nepos was quite the proper person to make such disdainful comments.”29 The significant point for me, however, is that Nepos shows himself

able to recognize the difference between labor and learning, which suggests that he would have been attentive to the nuances of doctis versus laboriosis in Catullus 1.7. Page 8 → Moreover, Nepos can praise Cato overall in strong terms yet still find him lacking in something as fundamental as his learning (doctrina). The passage should remind us, as we should also recognize when we read Catullus 1.5–7, that sincere criticism can overlap with genuine praise. Neither neutralizes the other or predetermines which ultimately holds more weight in the critic's estimation. Further evidence from a wider context is needed to measure the weight of each. In the case of Nepos and Cato, the obvious way to pursue that evidence would be to study what we know of the Origines and the remainder of Cato's corpus, so that we could then assess for ourselves the fairness of Nepos' praise for his breadth but criticism of his learning. In the case of Catullus and Nepos, likewise, we would seem wise to measure what we know of Nepos' entire corpus against Catullus' description of the Chronica as learned and full of labor, especially in light of the fact that the Chronica itself is not extant. The corpus of Nepos was varied and extensive but is now mostly lost and difficult to reconstruct. Its largest component was the biographical compilation On Famous Men, which included at least sixteen books, likely paired to foster comparison between Romans and non-Romans in specific areas of expertise. The only book of On Famous Men to survive, apparently complete, is that titled On Foreign Generals, the last sentence of which indicates a subsequent book titled On Roman Generals. Two Lives also survive from the book On Latin Historians, as well as a cross-reference to the book On Greek Historians.30 Beyond these four books, our knowledge of the contents of On Famous Men largely evaporates. We have citations of independent biographical works by Nepos on Cato the Elder (in one book) and Cicero (in at least two books), as well as the Chronica (in three books), the Exempla (in at least five books), correspondence with Cicero, some poetry,31 and an apparently independent work “in which [Nepos] distinguishes a ‘lettered man’ from a ‘learned man’” (libello quo distinguit litteratum ab erudito).32 Given the diversity of this corpus, one might think Page 9 → that it would have been often surveyed by those evaluating Catullus' characterization of the Chronica. Yet that has been done only rarely.33 In fact, most scholarship focused primarily on Nepos has such a low opinion of him that it discourages the effort. Scholarship on Nepos has been strongly anchored at the pedantic end of the spectrum refracted by the prism of Catullus 1, with some inclining toward the middle view, that is, regarding Nepos as innovative but not Alexandrian. This is most easily seen by comparing scholarship from the 1970s on Nepos and on Catullus' first poem. From Cairns in 1969 to Wiseman in 1979, the Alexandrian characterization of Nepos was being developed in Catullan scholarship,34 whereas strongly dismissive judgments were the norm in Nepotian scholarship. When, for example, Michael Winterbottom favorably reviewed Peter Marshall's valuable 1977 Teubner edition of Nepos' extant corpus, he opened with the claim that “it is difficult to believe that there is any classical author more tedious than Nepos, less capable of telling a good story well.”35 Similarly, when, in 1973, Edna Jenkinson surveyed Nepos' place at the beginning of Roman biography, she noted that his Lives “provide a fruitful harvest for the seeker after historical errors.” She further claimed that “Nepos' style is very uneven, and suggests one not in complete control of his medium, the Latin language…. He is at his best when he is not overambitious and expresses himself in the short, simple sentences appropriate to his unpretentious subject-matter.”36 Nepos is deemed deficient, therefore, in precisely the areas where an Alexandrian should not be: the crafting of his style and the learning behind his text. From this perspective on Nepos' writing, the Catullan characterization of Nepos' Chronica as a trio of learned and labored rolls is clearly a joke.37 The nadir in Nepos' modern scholarly reputation came in 1982, when Nicholas Horsfall offered his assessment for The Cambridge History of Classical Page 10 → Literature: “Nepos is an intellectual pygmy whom we find associating uneasily with the literary giants of his generation” (e.g., Catullus). Although his “shallow learning was exercised upon fashionable topics,” “Nepos' sole importance to us lies in the accident of his survival as the earliest Latin biographer.” Fault is again found in him for his carelessness (“inaccuracies are startling and innumerable”) and for his style (“his periods are not sustained, his excessive alliteration and strivings for antithesis annoy, his archaisms and colloquialisms are used without apparent purpose”). Horsfall's concluding judgment stresses the gap between Nepos' intentions and his results: “Nepos' scheme was ambitious and influential (for Plutarch, evidently), yet the execution often fell regrettably short.” Horsfall will have none of Wiseman's thesis, for Nepos'

execution as a historical author simply fails, on Horsfall's reading, to match the potential. He stands with Copley: Nepos was a pedant whom Catullus could not have sincerely praised.38 Although I disagree with most of Horsfall's assessment, I do find that what survives of Nepos' corpus—to be discussed shortly—confirms the impression of the fragments of the Chronica, namely, that Nepos was a thoughtful compiler more than an artistic writer. The distinction explains the gap between certain literary attitudes that are shared between Catullus and Nepos, such as an interest in literary history and an innovative willingness to extend that history, and evident differences in the literary styles with which those shared attitudes are executed. In my view, therefore, when Catullus praises Nepos' Chronica as the work of one who, “alone of the Italians, dared / to set out all of time in three rolls, / learned ones, by Jove, and full of labor” (1.5–7), we should regard it as a note of gratitude from a poet to one of his erstwhile instructors on literary history. Catullus praises Nepos' learning and labor because the three books of the Chronica help the poet to understand the world in which he writes, more than because they possess a directly shared poetic or literary inspiration. The sincerity of the praise is impossible to quantify, like any student's praise for a teacher's zeal. Such praise may be tinged with irony, but there is more sincerity than irony, for the sincerity functions as the endorsement of the value of the dedicatee's learning and labor. On this reading, Catullus is acknowledging the literary difference between himself and Nepos at the same time that he is acknowledging the connection between his own charmingly new poetry and Nepos' contribution to the larger culture of literary learning that stands behind it. Wiseman's demonstration that the same Hellenistic literary and historiographic tradition in the late Roman Republic influenced both Nepos and Catullus in inescapable Page 11 → ways is convincing, yet Copley was not wrong to view the chasm between the stylistic sensibilities of Nepos' extant biographies and Catullus' extant poems as an effectively insurmountable obstacle to the plausibility of an Alexandrian Nepos. Yet that chasm need not cast Nepos as the Ennius to Catullus' Callimachus, as Elder would have it, for Nepos (pace Wiseman) is a different type of writer rather than an already established figure within a similar literary tradition. Catullus admires Nepos' daring and shares it, though not necessarily in the personal ways that Rauk imagines he does.39 But as Elder's model implicitly suggests, the literary daring of two writers need not direct its learning and labor to similar ends, and as with Ennius, the innovative author can mature into a traditional figure.40 Thus do the interpretive issues of Catullus 1 offer a representative introduction to the challenges of understanding Nepos' value as a writer. From the vying interpretations of the interaction of these two contemporaries, two conclusions ultimately emerge to guide a new assessment of Nepos' achievement. First, since Nepos receives Catullus' endorsement for being innovative and daring in what he sets out to write, we should recognize how differences in literary style need not—and indeed should not—interfere with appreciation for literary innovation. Second, since Catullus judges what Nepos writes to involve learning and labor, we should acknowledge that Nepos' writings deserve to be examined on their own terms: their merits should not be occluded by judgments about their style or learning that are formed from a comparison with Catullus. The interpretive challenge becomes how to orient Nepos' innovation against his execution and, in the short term, how to wade through modern criticism of his execution in order to recontextualize what his writings say and do. This book will approach Nepos' corpus in this spirit. The claims of Nepos' strongest critics will be mitigated in the last part of this chapter, but the necessary task in the interim is to have a careful look at what survives of Nepos' corpus.

On Foreign Generals and On Famous Men This section begins by surveying what remains of Nepos' corpus and the notable features of its extant components. Then I focus on the complete book On Foreign Generals, especially its inclusion of a brief survey of foreign Page 12 → kings who were also notable commanders. That discussion introduces the question of whether separate books on kings were once included in Nepos' umbrella collection On Famous Men. The nature of On Famous Men itself is then assessed, which leads me to challenge the view that it once appeared in a first edition that compared only Greeks and Romans. My effort to dismiss that orthodoxy, if successful, proves worthwhile for the way in which it clarifies the date at which the book On Foreign Generals was written.

The entire extant corpus of Nepos ultimately derives from one twelfth-century manuscript, now lost but able to be reconstructed with reasonable confidence from three descendants. This manuscript contained a book of biographies On Foreign Generals attributed to Aemilius Probus, followed by three further pieces said to be “from Cornelius Nepos' book On Latin Historians” (e libro Cornelii Nepotis de latinis historicis): a brief biography of Cato the Elder, a biography of Atticus, and excerpts from a letter of Cornelia, the mother of Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus.41 The misattribution of On Foreign Generals to Probus seems to have been due to the confusion caused by an epigram at the end of the book in which a Probus claims to be the author (auctorem). Rather than being the work's author as we would understand it, however, Probus appears to have been a calligrapher who added the epigram as his signature in the fifth century CE on a presentation copy for Theodosius II.42 That Nepos was actually the author of the biographies of the generals was first recognized in the Renaissance but still debated until the latter part of the nineteenth century.43 Nepos' authorship of the generals' biographies is almost universally assumed today, but it is only fair to admit that the attribution is a circumstantial one and not explicitly attested by the manuscripts.44 The Nepotian authorship of the biographies of Cato and Atticus has never Page 13 → been challenged, but the excerpts from the letter of Cornelia remain a puzzle. How could such a letter have fit into a book titled On Latin Historians? Did Nepos claim to quote them from a source? Did that source present itself as a historical collection of Cornelia's letters, and were those the letters of Cornelia that Cicero says he had read? Or was that source an annalist, roughly contemporary to the dramatic date of the letter (ca. 124 BCE)? The uncertainty of the answers to these questions impedes interpretation of the letter itself.45 The Cato and Atticus are the only two biographies of Romans within the extant corpus, and they are anomalous in other ways as well. The Cato is quite brief, not even two full pages in Marshall's Teubner text, and the reason for its brevity emerges at its conclusion (3.5): Huius de vita et moribus plura in eo libro persecuti sumus, quem separatim de eo fecimus rogatu T. Pomponii Attici. quare studiosos Catonis ad illud volumen delegamus. [The life and morals of this man we have described in more detail in that book that, at the request of Titus Pomponius Atticus, we wrote about him separately. We therefore refer those interested in Cato to that volume.] Hence the Cato that we have is Nepos' epitome of his own larger work and thus is not representative of a typical Nepotian biography. This abridged version offers a quick chronological view of Cato's actions in public life (1–2.3), summary judgments on his patriotism and breadth of achievement (2.4–3.2), and an overview of his main historical work—the first Roman historical work written in Latin—the Origines (3.3–4).46 It is this last feature that justified Page 14 → Cato's inclusion in the book On Latin Historians, and thus its presentation concludes the Life. Like the Chronica, the Atticus possesses its own share of daring: it is the first biography in antiquity known to have been published during its subject's lifetime.47 The evidence for this circumstance comes from the biography itself (Att. 19.1): hactenus Attico vivo edita a nobis sunt. nunc, quoniam fortuna nos superstites ei esse voluit, reliqua persequemur. [ up to this point was published by us while Atticus was alive. Now, since fortune has wished that we survive him, we will complete the remainder.] The Atticus as we have it, therefore, is its second edition, with its final four chapters (19–22) added to the first edition.48 That would make chapter 18, in which Atticus' activities as a historical writer and researcher are described, the conclusion of the first edition of the Life, which fits the biography's placement, with the Cato, in the book On Latin Historians.49 The composition of both editions of the Atticus can be dated relatively well, and these dates also provide the foundation for dating the composition of the book On Foreign Generals. Atticus died on the final day of March in

32 BCE (Att. 22.3); thus the first edition must have preceded that date, and the second edition followed it. In the first edition, moreover, when discussing why Octavian's close friend Agrippa chose to marry Atticus' daughter, Nepos notes that “the matchmaker of this marriage—for it should not be hidden— Page 15 → was the Triumvir Mark Antony” (harum nuptiarum conciliator fuit—non est enim celandum—M. Antonius, triumvir, 12.2). The defensiveness with which Nepos says that he will not obscure Antony's involvement suggests a date after relations between Antony and “the young Caesar” (adulescenti Caesari, 12.1) had soured in 35. Because the second edition still refers to Caesar (19.3, 4; 20.3, 5) or to Imperator Divi filius (19.2), it can be dated prior to Caesar's metamorphosis into Caesar Augustus in 27 BCE. Hence the first edition was written between 35 and 32 BCE, and the second edition between 32 and 27.50 The Atticus is also notable for being the only biography of an eques in Roman literature,51 the only one of Nepos' extant biographies to be based on a contemporary figure for whom he could have had eyewitness evidence, and the longest in the extant corpus (twelve pages in the Teubner edition). It is regarded as “the best of [Nepos'] works to survive,”52 which is telling, for the judgment “best” is thereby seen to be based in an evaluation of historical accuracy and utility. The Atticus itself, moreover, is but the strongest evidence for the influence of Atticus on Nepos. The Cato ends by attributing to Atticus the inspiration for the longer biography from which the extant one was excerpted, and the entire book On Foreign Generals is dedicated to Atticus (Pref. 1). Given the presence of the Atticus within On Latin Historians, it does not seem likely that that individual book or the whole of On Famous Men would also have been dedicated to him.53 Perhaps it is just coincidental that the extant portions of On Famous Men all name Atticus, or perhaps it was the organizing principle behind the archetype of our manuscript tradition, so that what survives of On Famous Men are specifically those portions of it that involved Atticus. If the latter possibility is true, then the importance of Atticus for Nepos is overrepresented. The largest component of Nepos' extant corpus has also been its least studied: the book On Foreign Generals.54 The book contains a one-page Page 16 → Preface, the biographies of twenty-two individual commanders, and a very compressed survey of kings who were also commanders. If one counts the survey of kings as the twenty-third biography, since its length approximates one of the shorter biographies, the whole book occupies eighty-seven pages in Marshall's Teubner edition, and thus the average length of a biography is a little under four pages.55 This length is the most significant fact about these biographies for a modern readership. Unlike the much longer biographies of Suetonius and Plutarch, Nepos' Lives are but sketches of their subjects, very selective in content and focus. The brevity of Nepos' biographies simply cannot convey the thematic complexity and historical detail of a biography by Plutarch, and comparison of Nepos to his major successors is inherently disadvantageous to him. It is true, however, that Nepos and Plutarch both constructed series of Lives in order to foster cross-cultural comparison.56 Plutarch designed each of his books to contain the biography of one Greek and one Roman, and twenty-two books featuring such pairings are extant (including one exception in which a pair of Greeks is compared to a pair of Romans). Nepos apparently wrote two books on generals, one comprising a series of short biographies of non-Romans and one featuring Romans. Such, at least, is the clear implication of the final sentence of On Foreign Generals (Hann. 13.4): Sed nos tempus est huius libri facere finem et Romanorum explicare imperatores, quo facilius collatis utrorumque factis, qui viri praeferendi sint, possit iudicari. Page 17 → [But it is time for us to make an end of this book and to set out the generals of the Romans, so that it may be able to be judged more easily, once the deeds of each have been compared, which men are to be ranked higher.] If we assume that the now lost book On Roman Generals was the same size and scope as the book On Foreign Generals, then Nepos presented the Lives of forty-six ancient commanders in two books, while Plutarch would present only two pairs of Lives in two books. Another way of making the comparison is to note that while Plutarch

presented forty-six Lives in twenty-two books, Nepos would have included forty-six Lives in two books. In terms of scale, therefore, Nepos' On Foreign Generals should be regarded as comparable to an abridgement of all of Plutarch's Greek Lives into a single book. If Nepos' individual biographies often seem slight, that is because—in comparison to the best ancient specimens of the genre—they are. But it must always be remembered that the technique behind Nepos' method of comparison is different. Nepos designed his book to be the summary collection of a series of Lives into a single volume, not a series of definitive biographies of each figure. The reader is to compare the twenty-two non-Romans of this book to a presumably comparable number of Roman commanders in the following book. On that scale, the range of the book's breadth is impressive, and On Foreign Generals is the longest extant single book in classical Latin literature.57 The foreign generals Nepos chose for inclusion are primarily Greek and primarily classical. All but three of the individual biographies involve Greek history, and half describe Athenians. The first nine Lives treat Greek commanders from the Persian Wars through the Peloponnesian War, and six more feature mainland Greeks who flourished primarily in the first half of the fourth century. Of these fifteen Lives, ten are of Athenians (Miltiades, Themistocles, Aristides, Cimon, Alcibiades, Thrasybulus, Conon, Iphicrates, Chabrias, and Timotheus), three are of Spartans (Pausanias, Lysander, and Agesilaus), and two are of Thebans (Epaminondas and Pelopidas). The surprising inclusion from the Eastern Mediterranean world is the Datames, about a Carian who became a Persian satrap in the 360s BCE. Of the remaining six Lives, two focus on the struggles after the death of Alexander (Eumenes, Phocion), two involve Sicily in the fourth century (Dion, Timoleon), and two are about Carthaginians in the third century (Hamilcar, Hannibal). The ordering within the Page 18 → book is generally chronological, from the fifth to the third century, with the fourth-century figures divided by region down to the era of Alexander.58 The only real exceptions are the two fourth-century Sicilian biographies: Dion, placed tenth; and Timoleon, placed twentieth.59 The chronological misplacement of the Sicilians might perhaps hint at some significance to the ordering of the biographies within the book, but it remains implicit. Nepos offers no statement about the book's overall structure.60 Each biography begins with the name of its subject (and often his father's name) and his city or ethnicity. For example, the reader finds “Miltiades, son of Cimon, Athenian” (Milt. 1.1) at the beginning of the first Life, “Themistocles, son of Neocles, Athenian” (Them. 1.1) at the conclusion of the Miltiades, and so forth. The only exception, if it is indeed an exception, is the survey of kings who were also commanders. In the three best manuscripts, this discussion of kings forms a coda to the Timoleon (the twentieth Life in the book) but is not distinctly separated from it. It was separated in 1543 and given the title On Kings (De Regibus); the Teubner editor Peter Marshall prefers simply Kings (Reges).61 Its purpose in the book has to be understood from its introduction (Reg. 1.1–2): Page 19 → Hi fere fuerunt Graecae gentis duces, qui memoria digni videantur, praeter reges: namque eos attingere noluimus, quod omnium res gestae separatim sunt relatae. neque tamen ii admodum sunt multi. Lacedaemonius autem Agesilaus nomine, non potestate fuit rex, sicut ceteri Spartani. ex iis vero, qui dominatum imperio tenuerunt, excellentissimi fuerunt, ut nos iudicamus, Persarum Cyrus et Darius. [These men were about all the generals of the Greek people who seem worthy of mention, except for kings: we have not wished to touch upon them since the deeds of all of them have been related separately. Yet there are not very many of them. As for Agesilaus the Lacedaemonian, he was a king in name, but not in power, as were the other Spartan kings. But of those who held absolute power together with the power of command, the most distinguished, as we judge, were the Persians Cyrus and Darius.] Nepos then goes on to list three more Persian kings (Xerxes, Artaxerxes Macrochir, and Artaxerxes Mnemon; 1.3–5), the Macedonians Philip and Alexander (2.1), Pyrrhus of Epirus (2.2), Dionysius I of Syracuse (2.2–3), and five “great kings out of the friends of Alexander the Great” (magni reges ex amicis Alexandri Magni: Antigonus,

Demetrius, Lysimachus, Seleucus, and Ptolemaeus; 3.1–4). About each king, he generally has only one or two things to say, one of which is always the manner of death. The whole survey fills less than two pages in Marshall's edition. At its end, Nepos transitions back to the series of longer Lives of individuals (Reg. 3.5): De quibus quoniam satis dictum putamus, non incommodum videtur non praeterire Hamilcarem et Hannibalem, quos et animi magnitudine et calliditate omnes in Africa natos praestitisse constat. [Since we think enough has been said about these kings, it seems appropriate not to omit Hamilcar and Hannibal, who, it is agreed, excelled all those born in Africa in both magnanimity and cleverness.] The Hamilcar and Hannibal, the last two Lives of the book, then follow. This survey of kings thus serves to conclude the Greek portion of the book, after which Nepos turns to Carthage. There is a difficulty, for he has included the Persian satrap Datames among the Greeks. But there is a much greater revelation, namely, that Nepos considers those who hold both absolute Page 20 → power (dominatus) and the power of command (imperium) to be in a different category of men from those who hold only the power of command; he regards only the latter category as the proper subject of his book On Foreign Generals. When, in other words, Nepos declared his subject to be the Lives “of distinguished commanders” (vita excellentium imperatorum, Pref. 8), he intended only those distinguished commanders who were subject to some greater authority within their own states and were not in themselves the rulers of them. Agesilaus has therefore been included in the book, since Spartan kings were not absolute in power (potestate, Reg. 1.2).62 Such an exclusion of true monarchs is not intuitive. A reader of the Preface could hardly be faulted for thinking that a book of biographies of great non-Roman generals would include an Alexander, and yet the only things the reader will learn about Alexander in Nepos' survey of kings are that his deeds were surpassingly glorious and that he died of disease at Babylon (Reg. 2.1).63 Nepos justifies his exclusion of kings by saying that their deeds have been related separately (omnium res gestae separatim sunt relatae, Reg. 1.1). For modern readers of Nepos, this claim recalls the conclusion of the Cato, where he explains that he has described his subject further “in that book…that we wrote about him separately” (in eo libro…quem separatim de eo fecimus, Cato 3.5). Hence the usual understanding of “separately” in Reges 1.1 has been that Nepos himself wrote a book of biographies titled On Foreign Kings, to which he is here referring. His desire not to repeat himself would explain his extreme brevity about these foreign generals who were also kings.64 Yet the reference to the longer biography of Cato comes in the first person (“the book…that we wrote separately”), while the reference to the deeds of the kings is expressed passively, without an agent (“their deeds have been related separately”). Hence it is not as clear that Reges 1.1 is cross-referencing one of Nepos' own works, and the assumption that it does has been effectively challenged. Why repeat the material at all? Why are there no cross-references within individual Lives (e.g., from Themistocles to a Xerxes or from Eumenes to books on any of the five named friends of Alexander)? Was there a book On Roman Kings to match On Foreign Kings, as there seems to have been for the generals, and would Rome's seven kings have Page 21 → made for much of a comparison with the fourteen listed here? Such questions are admittedly conjectural, but they highlight the difficulties created by the assumption that Reges 1.1 cross-references another book by Nepos.65 More significantly, the assumption conflicts with a similar distinction Nepos makes between his own method and the work of his predecessors (Epam. 4.6): abstinentiae erit hoc satis testimonium. plurima quidem proferre possumus, sed modus adhibendus est, quoniam uno hoc volumine vitam excellentium virorum complurium concludere constituimus, quorum separatim multis milibus versuum complures scriptores ante nos explicarunt. [This will be enough proof of [Epaminondas'] incorruptibility. We could indeed produce very many more, but a limit must be applied, since we have determined to include in this one volume the life of

several distinguished men, about each of whom separately several writers before us have expounded in many thousands of lines.]

Nepos here defends his selectivity compared to many other writers who have written many lines about each one of his subjects “separately” (separatim). Because he has defined his project for its breadth, then he must sacrifice depth. That point is also plausible as the issue at Reges 1.1, where Nepos explains that he has not touched kings “since the deeds of all of them have been related separately” (quod omnium res gestae separatim sunt relatae). Separatim, therefore, need not denote “in a separate place,” as in Cato 3.5, for it could equally well denote “each one separately,” as in Epaminondas 4.6.66 If the latter is the proper sense, then the reason Nepos cannot touch on kings who were also generals in his book On Foreign Generals is that there Page 22 → is simply too much information about them; to include them properly would make his already lengthy book too long. The prudent thing to do is to recognize the limitations of our evidence and therefore not assume that Nepos wrote a book titled On Foreign Kings. The same restraint is generally necessary regarding almost everything relating to Nepos' On Famous Men outside the extant manuscript tradition.67 That tradition tells us that there were books titled On Foreign Generals and On Latin Historians.68 The end of On Foreign Generals promises a book On Roman Generals (Hann. 13.4). The existence of a paired book on historians is indicated by a cross-reference at Dion 3.2, where Nepos mentions the historian Philistus and then says, “but about this man more has been explained in that book that has been written On Greek Historians” (sed de hoc in eo libro plura sunt exposita, qui de historicis Graecis conscriptus est). Although, as in Reges 1.1, the agent of the passive verb (“written”) is not clarified, the context fits a cross-reference much more clearly, and unlike in the survey on kings, Nepos does not proceed to summarize any biographical information about Philistus. Moreover, Gellius 11.8 reports an anecdote in which Cato the Elder chides Aulus Albinus for apologizing for writing his history of Rome in Greek, and he cites it specifically (11.8.5) as “in the thirteenth book of Cornelius Nepos' On Famous Men” (in libro Corneli Nepotis de inlustribus viris XIII). Since the whole point of the anecdote is that Albinus chose to write in Greek, then book 13 should be the book On Greek Historians, and book 14 should be On Latin Historians, on the assumption that—as with the book On Roman Generals—the Roman book followed the non-Roman book.69 From a chance reference to the sixteenth book of Nepos' On Famous Men in the grammarian Charisius (Marshall fr. 43), we know that the work was at least that long, presumably in pairs of books that treated different categories of famous men. Of those categories, we can say with complete confidence only that two of them were historians and generals.70 Page 23 → The size of On Famous Men makes the remainder of its contents all the more puzzling. If the twenty-two individual Lives included in On Foreign Generals is representative of a single book, then the sixteen (or more) books of the whole work would have presented well over three hundred short biographies. Who were all these famous men? The book On Roman Generals would not have been hard to fill. A quotation of Nepos in Fronto regarding Numantia suggests a biography of the younger Scipio.71 References to Nepos in Plutarch's Marcellus and Lucullus likewise recommend them as choices. Plutarch also cites Nepos for Tiberius Gracchus, who perhaps was included in books on orators.72 Suetonius' Life of Terence twice refers to Nepos, so biographies of poets seem to have been included.73 But quickly we turn to speculation: epic, tragic, and comic poets, as well as grammarians, philosophers, artists, lawgivers, women.74 A further speculative assumption about the contents of On Famous Men is that the whole work was originally designed to compare only Greeks and Romans. On this assumption, the Datames, Hamilcar, and Hannibal become exceptions, along with the five Persian kings named at Reges 1.2–5 (who have been thought to have been included in On Foreign Kings, as discussed above).75 Two pieces of evidence seem indicative of such exceptional status: Page 24 → the Preface to On Foreign Generals introduces the book by discussing the value of cultural relativism specifically in terms of Greeks and Romans, and Nepos introduces his survey of kings who were also generals with the summary remark that the preceding Lives treated “about all the generals of the Greek people who seem worthy of mention” (hi fere fuerunt Graecae gentis duces, qui memoria digni videantur, Reg. 1.1). This

statement conflicts with Nepos' introduction of Datames, which stresses that he was not a Greek: “I come now to the man who was the bravest and the greatest at strategy of all the barbarians, with the exception of the two Carthaginians Hamilcar and Hannibal” (Venio nunc ad fortissimum virum maximique consilii omnium barbarorum, exceptis duobus Karthaginiensibus, Hamilcare et Hannibale, Timoth. 4.5). The inclusion of the two Carthaginians in Datames' introduction thus links the three of them as exceptions to the Greek subject matter of the book, and it also suggests that Nepos thought of these three as the non-Greek generals most worthy of mention. But on the assumption that On Famous Men compared only Greeks and Romans, why are these three non-Greeks here at all? How could Nepos say that he has discussed the worthy generals of the Greek people when he has also included a biography of the “barbarian” Datames? The alleged solution has been found in the evidence at Atticus 19.1 that that Life was issued in a second edition, for that fact allows for the possibility that the whole of On Famous Men could have been revised for a second edition, at which time the non-Greek Lives were added. On this theory, the first edition of what was then On Greek Generals did not contain the Datames and ended after the first sentence of what is now Reges 1: “These men were about all the generals of the Greek people who seem worthy of mention, except for kings: we have not wished to touch upon them since the deeds of all of them have been related separately.” When Nepos decided to add non-Greeks to the second edition of On Famous Men, as this theory reconstructs it, he simply added on to what had been the very end of the book. “Yet there are not very many of them” (neque tamen ii admodum sunt multi, Reg. 1.2), he explained as his transition, after which he proceeded to list the five Persian kings he was adding to his book formerly called On Greek Kings and to summarize some other notable martial kings that were already discussed in that book. “Since we think enough has been said about these kings, it seems appropriate not to omit Hamilcar and Hannibal,” he concluded (Reg. 3.5). Those two Lives were added where they chronologically belonged, and the Datames, with its prospective mention of the two Carthaginians, was also inserted as the fourteenth in the book. Confirmation of the whole theory is said to come near Page 25 → the very end of the Hannibal, when Nepos says that Atticus “left it written” (scriptum reliquit, Hann. 13.1) that Hannibal died in 183 BCE: Nepos would not have used the perfect tense if Atticus were still alive, and it was his death that sparked the second edition in the first place.76 The evidence for this theory is weak, however, and its elaboration is rendered necessary only because of the initial assumption that Nepos compared Greeks and Romans exclusively, an assumption that it is not necessary to make.77 The comparative purpose of On Foreign Generals is most clearly expressed in its very last sentence, the end of the Hannibal: “It is time for us to make an end of this book and to set out the generals of the Romans, so that it may be able to be judged more easily, once the deeds of each have been compared, which men are to be ranked higher.” Nepos here explicitly encourages his reader to rank the generals whose Lives have just been presented against those Roman Lives that are imminent. For that ranking to be appropriately competitive, the best of the non-Romans should be compared to the best of the Romans,78 which is why Datames is openly identified as “the bravest and the greatest at strategy of all the barbarians, with the exception of the Carthaginians Hamilcar and Hannibal” (Timoth. 4.5). Hannibal is introduced as the greatest ever at his particular strength (1.1): Hannibal, Hamilcaris filius, Karthaginiensis. si verum est, quod nemo dubitat, ut populus Romanus omnes gentes virtute superarit, non est infitiandum Hannibalem tanto praestitisse ceteros imperatores prudentia, quanto populus Romanus antecedat fortitudine cunctas nationes. [Hannibal, the son of Hamilcar, Carthaginian. If it is true, which no one doubts, that the Roman people have surpassed all others in virtue, Page 26 → then it must not be denied that Hannibal excelled other commanders in prudence by as much as the Roman people exceed all nations in bravery.] Despite his claim at the end of the Hannibal that the reader is to compare the subjects within this book to those in the next, Nepos here influences that judgment by declaring openly that in the category of prudence, Hannibal surpassed everyone, even the Romans, by as much as the Romans themselves surpass all others in virtue. Hence, if the Hannibal did not appear in the alleged first edition of On Famous Men, then Nepos would have to be understood as having designed his books on generals such that he passed over the man whom he himself regarded

as the greatest example of military prudence. It is possible that the precedent of having only Greeks and Romans in the earlier books meant that Nepos would have felt constrained to omit Hannibal when he came to choose generals, but why should one assume that precedent in the face of direct evidence that Nepos found Hannibal particularly valuable for the stated comparative purpose of his work? The usual answer is the alleged reference to the deceased Atticus in the Hannibal itself. When discussing Hannibal's disputed date of death, Nepos refers to Atticus' book on Roman chronology, the Liber Annalis, as follows (Hann. 13.1): quibus consulibus interierit, non convenit. namque Atticus M. Claudio Marcello Q. Fabio Labeone consulibus mortuum in annali suo scriptum reliquit, at Polybius L. Aemilio Paulo Cn. Baebio Tamphilo, Sulpicius autem Blitho P. Cornelio Cethego M. Baebio Tamphilo. [In which consular year [Hannibal] perished is not agreed: for Atticus left it written in his Annal that he died when M. Claudius Marcellus and Q. Fabius Labeo were consuls [183 BCE], but Polybius when L. Aemilius Paulus and Gnaeus Baebius Tamphilus were consuls [182 BCE], and Sulpicius Blitho when P. Cornelius Cethegus and M. Baebius Tamphilus were consuls [181 BCE].] Because Nepos uses the perfect tense when he says that Atticus “left it written” (scriptum reliquit) when Hannibal died, it has been understood that Atticus should logically also be in the past himself and that, therefore, this passage was written after his death and could only have been added to the second Page 27 → edition. But there are several factors that make such logic unwise. In the most literal terms, once Atticus had published his Liber Annalis, then one could say that he had “left it written.”79 If he were still alive, one could ask him for confirmation, but the book spoke for itself once it was written, and that need be all Nepos means to say here.80 Moreover, the sentence is structured such that all three of its subjects (Atticus, Polybius, and Sulpicius Blitho) “left it written” about Hannibal's death, and in all three cases, Nepos is referring to the books each wrote and not to the individuals as people.81 Even more telling that the perfect tense in “left it written” need not indicate that Atticus was dead is the fact that Nepos already describes Atticus' Liber Annalis at the end of the first edition of the Atticus—said to have been published when Atticus was still alive (hactenus Attico vivo edita a nobis sunt, Att. 19.1)—in the perfect tense (Att. 18.1): Moris etiam maiorum summus imitator fuit antiquitatisque amator, quam adeo diligenter habuit cognitam, ut eam totam in eo volumine exposuerit, quo magistratus ordinavit. [[Atticus] was also the greatest emulator of the mos maiorum and lover of antiquity, the study of which he pursued so diligently that he set out the whole of it in that volume in which he ordered the magistrates.] If the perfect tense of “left it written” at Hannibal 13.1 means that Nepos was referring to the deceased Atticus, then the perfect tenses (fuit, habuit, ordinavit) here, near the end of the first edition of the Atticus, should mean that, too. For the theory of the second edition of On Foreign Generals to be maintained, therefore, its proponents have to argue that Nepos systematically Page 28 → revised the Atticus, here and elsewhere, in order to replace present-tense verbs with perfect-tense verbs that corroborate the reference to the allegedly deceased Atticus at Hannibal 13.1.82 Yet, as the proponents of the second edition of On Foreign Generals would argue, even though Nepos was allegedly so careful in revising the tenses of the Atticus, he did not revise his statement at the beginning of Reges that spawned the whole assumption of this second edition in the first place: “These men were about all the generals of the Greek people who seem worthy of mention, except for kings.” Even though he was adding the Datames into the midst of the book, he did not revise this statement, as he did the tenses of the Atticus, but simply added on to it, saying that there were not many kings who would also be worthy of inclusion, although he then proceeds to survey fourteen of them. Such an inconsistency, in both Nepos' method and the explanation of the creation of the second edition, should not be accepted for the sake of an assumption that the original edition of On

Famous Men contained biographies of exclusively Greeks and Romans. It is far easier to assume that when Nepos referred to the generals of the Greek people (Graecae gentis duces, Reg. 1.1), he was simply overlooking the Datames and referring in overall terms to the nineteen of his twenty preceding Lives that did describe Greeks. A similar imprecision comes near the end of the Timotheus, when Nepos declares (4.4), Haec extrema fuit aetas imperatorum Atheniensium, Iphicratis, Chabriae, Timothei, neque post illorum obitum quisquam dux in illa urbe fuit dignus memoria. [This era of Iphicrates, Chabrias, and Timotheus was the very last of the era of Athenian commanders, and after their death not any general in that city was worthy of memory.] Not any general from Athens after these three was worthy of memory, Nepos explicitly says here, and yet Phocion the Athenian appears six Lives later.83 Page 29 → Once one recognizes that Nepos can be somewhat careless in his characterizations of the contents of On Foreign Generals, one no longer needs to explain the allegedly anomalous presence of the “barbarian” Datames and the Carthaginians Hamilcar and Hannibal by hypothesizing a second edition. One should observe instead that the presence of the three non-Greek generals adds valuable depth to the comparative purpose of On Famous Men, for that depth is sufficient to explain their inclusion. The assumption that On Famous Men was originally limited strictly to Greeks and Romans is unnecessary, and even more unnecessary is the further assumption that the second edition of the Atticus also entailed a second edition of On Foreign Generals—in which Nepos only then decided to include non-Greeks. The second edition of the Atticus would have necessitated a second edition of On Latin Historians, but it does not provide evidence that On Foreign Generals was also revised. As with the assumption that Nepos wrote a book titled On Foreign Kings, the prudent thing to do is to recognize that our evidence about the larger compilation On Famous Men is so limited that we should not assume anything about it that the evidence from the extant manuscript tradition does not clearly confirm. That tradition includes biographies of three non-Greeks, and there is no external evidence that On Foreign Generals ever existed in any form other than that in which we have it. Denying the existence of the supposed first edition of the book On Foreign Generals has limited value in itself. There is some value in realizing how little we securely know about On Famous Men as a whole, but whether we regard our book On Foreign Generals as its second edition or not, it is, quite simply, the extant book we have and the only complete book with which modern readers can assess Nepos.84 The issue of its second edition does, however, affect the dating of the book we have. The book On Foreign Generals is dedicated to Atticus (Pref. 1), which should mean that he was living when it was written. From the second edition of the Atticus, we know that he died at the end of March in 32 BCE (Att. 22.3), and On Foreign Generals should predate that. A crossreference to the book On Greek Historians exists in On Foreign Generals (Dion 3.2), and if that reference is backward looking, then On Foreign Generals was written after the first edition of the Atticus (for it was part of On Latin Historians, which was presumably paired with On Greek Historians), which is dated to 35 BCE or after because of the tone of the reference to Mark Antony at Atticus 12.1. Hence On Foreign Generals was written between 35 and 32 BCE. The historical perspective contemporary Page 30 → to its time of writing was the buildup to the civil war between Antony and Octavian that would climax at Actium in the late summer of 31 BCE.85 But that climax came after On Foreign Generals was written, and Nepos could not have known what was in store for triumviral Rome when he wrote it. Rome was nominally still a republic, though a broken one, and the great issue facing its political future was the role of its military dynasts within it. Recognizing the political turmoil at the time of the book's composition raises the questions of whether and how Nepos' survey of great historical commanders reveals any comment about the relevance of the legacy of those commanders for his triumviral moment. Hence Nepos deserves reconsideration not only for a fresh contextualization of the learning and innovation that Catullus saw in his researches but also for the possibility that his writings carry political significance. If Nepos' corpus can be shown to be participating in the intellectual and political currents of his generation, it would provide what would effectively be a new and additional perspective on those fascinating and tumultuous times. Perhaps it is an exaggeration to claim that his would be a new

perspective, since his corpus has always been known; but because scholarship has for so long marginalized him as a writer and thinker, his political thought has only rarely been appreciated. In fact, some of the claims that have been made about the value of his writings are so derisive that they inhibit scholarly attention. Before I advance my own review of the evidence for Nepos' conception of the late Roman Republic, therefore, I want to address the content of this criticism directly.

Recuperating Nepos as a Biographer The strongest voices against Nepos, as already noted, are those of Edna Jenkinson and Nicholas Horsfall.86 Jenkinson influenced Horsfall, but the latter has had much more impact on subsequent scholarship, not least because he has written the most valuable commentary on Nepos in recent decades. Horsfall's commentary does not address On Foreign Generals except for its Preface, but it does include the Cato and Atticus and many of the fragments.87 This commentary was published in 1989, hence it applied much of Page 31 → his dismissive treatment of Nepos from The Cambridge History of Classical Literature in 1982, even while other scholars were already suggesting new approaches to Nepos that are foundational for this book. Scholarship on Nepos since Horsfall has tended to challenge him, for he forcefully staked out a position at the critical end of the spectrum, and those who agree with him have little to add.88 Yet Horsfall's influence still remains strong enough that his depiction of Nepos merits further rebuttal.89 Horsfall and Jenkinson ascribe an almost puerile simplicity to the intellectual stature of Nepos, and thus they have to explain away the evidence for Nepos' relationships with such discerning contemporaries as Catullus, Atticus, and Cicero. Jenkinson declares that Nepos was “destined to be always worsted in such brushes with his livelier contemporaries,” while Horsfall settled on the provocative sobriquet “intellectual pygmy,” which is, unfortunately, now quoted with apparent approval in the authoritative Oxford Classical Dictionary.90 The OCD entry on Nepos continues, “His defects are hasty and careless composition (perhaps less marked in his first edition) and lack of control of his material.” Such a claim is damning, yet it is hasty in its own way. How can one suggest that Nepos' carelessness was “perhaps less marked in his first edition” when no evidence exists for the specific text of that alleged first edition?91 Furthermore, what does it mean to say that Nepos' composition Page 32 → was hasty? Since direct evidence for his manner of composition is also entirely lacking, one has to assume that this judgment results from its author's unfavorable opinion of Nepos' presumed methods of cutting and pasting in the extant finished product. Likewise, “lack of control of his material” presumably means mistakes in historical accuracy, on the assumption that the accurate depiction of historical facts was primary among Nepos' goals. These judgments deserve closer scrutiny, not because they are entirely untrue, but because they have been advanced to such a degree that they are now obstacles to the study of Nepos and need to be pruned. Judgments about style, for example, are more aesthetic than academic and should not deter scholars from careful study of texts. Nepos is indeed prosaic in the dull sense of the term, lacking the powerful range of Cicero and the artful clarity of Caesar. But Cicero and Caesar—and, likewise, Catullus—are not the best figures for comparison.92 It is better to class Nepos with other academic or biographical writers, such as Varro or Suetonius, or other historical writers or compilers, such as Velleius Paterculus and Valerius Maximus.93 Among this class of writers, Nepos' style is unobjectionable.94 Hence it is presumptuous to declare, as Horsfall does, that Nepos “wrote a vast amount, yet very clearly had no serious grounding in how to use his own language.” Horsfall even asserts that Nepos had “inadequate mastery of the basic principles of prose rhythm and word order,” as if there existed a set of prescriptive rules Page 33 → for prose rhythm and word order that Latin authors had to follow.95 Jenkinson claims that Nepos' style “suggests one not in complete control of his medium, the Latin language,” yet she is herself inconsistent, for she concludes two pages later, “In general, however, Nepos is a pleasing writer, clear and concise, and it is unfortunate for him that he has inevitably been compared with his great contemporary Cicero and thus been found wanting.”96 More serious is the charge that Nepos is, in the words of Elizabeth Rawson, “phenomenally inaccurate.”97 Nepos' factual mistakes and exaggerations of historical detail have contributed more than anything else to his poor reputation. They are significant and should not be overlooked, but characterizing them as “phenomenal” is

unwarranted and unsympathetic to the generic expectations of biography relative to history. Horsfall likewise claims that Nepos' “inaccuracies are startling and innumerable.” Yet they are often enumerated, as in the footnotes in Rolfe's Loeb translation.98 Horsfall lists four as representative: “Miltiades is confused with his uncle of the same name; Lemnos is placed among the Cyclades; the battles of Mycale and the Eurymedon are confused; the narrative of Hannibal's crossing of the Alps was a travesty.”99 To call a Nepotian narrative a travesty is to assert that Nepos mishandled his sources, that is, that his sources presented true and correct information that he incompetently communicated. But if Nepos copied a mistaken piece of information from what he thought a reliable source, can he really be found worthy of blame? To properly measure Nepos' reliability, one would need to be able to determine Nepos' source(s) for a given passage, which is usually not possible.100 Page 34 → Consider, for example, the first of the errors on Horsfall's representative list: Nepos' assimilation in Miltiades 1–2 of the deeds of Miltiades, the son of Cypselus, to those of his eponymous nephew, Miltiades, the son of Cimon. Since Herodotus 6.34–41 clearly and repeatedly distinguishes the deeds of these two men, it looks likely that Nepos did not choose to follow Herodotus as his primary source for the Miltiades. In fact, Nepos never refers to Herodotus in On Foreign Generals, although he does mention other historians, such as Thucydides, Theopompus, Dinon, and Polybius.101 Nepos' neglect of Herodotus is significant for Nepos' modern reputation, since, by modern standards, Herodotus should have been regarded as the best and closest-to-contemporary source for the Greek generals of the Persian War. Cicero demonstrates that he had read Herodotus, whom he judged the Father of History, so Nepos presumably could also have had access to him if he chose.102 We cannot know why Nepos omitted to follow such a fundamental source, but the omission does lend some support to the assumption of Nepos' critics that he was hasty and careless in his composition. Any historical researcher who writes about Miltiades but ignores Herodotus can have little credibility to modern historians.103 Even so, further questions should be asked: What source(s) did Nepos use for his Miltiades? Did his source(s) assimilate the two men by that name, or did Nepos confuse them himself?104 The answers to these questions, if we could determine them, would tell us more about Nepos' method of composition than merely dismissing it as hasty because of its neglect of Herodotus. We can already tell that Nepos is not to be regarded as a reliable source for Greek history of the classical period, though the brevity of his biographies and their chronological distance from the events they describe make such a conclusion unsurprising. Those who come to Nepos' Miltiades looking to supplement or clarify the Greek sources for the events of Miltiades' lifetime are likely to be unsatisfied. Thus it has long been damaging to Nepos' reputation that scholars have Page 35 → approached him primarily as a source for the history of the classical Greek world. Jenkinson refers to his biographies as “a happy hunting-ground for those in quest of historical errors.”105 One conspicuous error—and one that Horsfall included on his list of representative examples—comes at Cimon 2.2, where Nepos refers to Cimon's success in winning a land battle and a sea battle on the same day near Mycale (apud Mycalen). Mycale was indeed the site of a significant naval battle for the Greeks, but that battle was fought in 479 (Herodotus 9.90–105). Cimon's victories, however, were at the Eurymedon River in ca. 466 BCE. Nepos specifically notes that two hundred Phoenician vessels were captured in this battle, as is also reported by Thucydides (1.100.1) and Plutarch (Cimon 12.8; in 12.5–8, Plutarch refers to Ephorus and Callisthenes as sources). Thus Nepos does seem to be referring to the battle at the Eurymedon and not to some otherwise unknown battle at Mycale in the 460s. Yet Diodorus (11.60.5–61.7) is nearly as confused as Nepos, for he puts the naval battle near Cyprus and the land battle at the mouth of the Eurymedon, over one hundred miles apart, and yet still says that Cimon won both on the same day. Cyprus is closer to the mouth of the Eurymedon than Mycale, but both Diodorus and Nepos seem to be reporting a faulty tradition. Their own contribution to the confusion, however, cannot be isolated; hence their error can be identified more confidently than their responsibility for it.106 Another conspicuous example of imprecision comes from Nepos' presentation of the duration of Xerxes' march to Greece in 480 BCE. At Themistocles 5.2, Nepos reports that the march took six months and the return less than thirty days. Herodotus says that it took Xerxes four months to march out (8.51) and forty-five days to return (8.115). Again we see that Nepos is not relying on Herodotus and is likely only as good as his source. At

Agesilaus 4.4, however, Nepos says that Agesilaus marched to Greece from the Hellespont Page 36 → in thirty days by the same route that had taken Xerxes a year. Nepos' likely source for this claim is Xenophon, Agesilaus 2.1, where Agesilaus traverses in less than a month the road that took Xerxes a year.107 In this case, therefore, we can confirm that Nepos is as good as his source and that his source is an appropriate one for its immediate context.108 On the model of Agesilaus 4.4, we have reasonable grounds to assume that the figures at Themistocles 5.2 are also drawn directly from whatever source(s) Nepos had for that passage. In itself, such a procedure is regarded as the standard practice for later compilers like Nepos who stand centuries away from the events they describe. But did Xerxes' march last six months or twelve? It is impossible that both figures can be true, yet Nepos lets both stand, in the same book, just as he presumably found each in his sources. That Nepos did not reconcile the error within his own reporting provides revealing testimony to his willingness to accept historical inconsistency. Because such factual imprecision is so easily demonstrable in Nepos, there has developed an almost reflexive instinct to assume the worst about Nepos' accuracy in all cases. For example, after Nepos explains that the two kings at Sparta were descended from Eurysthenes and Procles, respectively, he is understood to claim that Agesilaus was descended from Eurysthenes (Ages. 1.2–3, 7.4: Eurysthenes, progenitor maiorum suorum). This is declared an error, since Agesilaus was a descendant of Procles.109 But Nepos does not necessarily say that Agesilaus was directly descended from Eurysthenes. What he says is that Eurysthenes was a progenitor of Agesilaus' ancestors and that Agesilaus lived in Eurysthenes' house: “he was content with the same house that Eurysthenes, the progenitor of his ancestors, had enjoyed” (domo eadem fuit contentus qua Eurysthenes, progenitor maiorum suorum, fuerat usus, Ages. 7.4). It is certainly possible, even natural, to understand the phrase “progenitor of his ancestors” as suggesting that Agesilaus was directly descended from Eurysthenes, but, strictly speaking, since Eurysthenes and Procles were the twin sons of Aristodemus, both Eurysthenes' and Procles' descendants can be regarded as the ancestors (maiores) of Agesilaus. The real point of Nepos' sentence is that Agesilaus lived in Eurysthenes' former house. His source for this piece of information is not entirely clear, Page 37 → but Xenophon's Agesilaus—which Nepos invokes in the first sentence of his Agesilaus and which we have already seen as the likely source for the duration of Xerxes' and Agesilaus' marches to Greece—suggests that the doors of Agesilaus' house were such that they could have been made by Aristodemus (8.7; see also Plut., Ages. 19.6). Since Eurysthenes was judged to be the elder of the twins,110 he should have been the one to inherit his father's house, yet since Xenophon refers to the doors of Agesilaus' house as appropriately built by Aristodemus, then Agesilaus was understood to live in what was once Eurysthenes' house. Hence it becomes possible to explain sensibly what Nepos actually says, if scholars wished to be charitable to him. Another example of this rush to negative judgment comes from Horsfall's list of representative errors, namely, the claim that Nepos thought Lemnos to be among the Cyclades. The passage in question comes at the end of Nepos' account of how Miltiades came to rule Lemnos. Having been told by the Lemnians that they would hand over the island to him if he ever sailed there from home on a north wind, Miltiades proceeded to conquer the Chersonese for Athens and make it his home (Milt. 1.4–2.3). He then returned to Lemnos, now sailing on a north wind from the Chersonese, and demanded the island as promised. Its occupants yielded, Nepos says, not so much because of their promise but because of Miltiades' favorable fortune (non dicto, sed secunda fortuna adversariorum, 2.5). Nepos then continues (2.5), pari felicitate ceteras insulas, quae Cyclades nominantur, sub Atheniensium redegit potestatem. Rolfe, in the Loeb edition, translates this as “Miltiades had equal success in bringing the remaining islands known as the Cyclades into the power of the Athenians,” adding in a footnote, “Nepos' statement is inaccurate. Lemnos is not one of the Cyclades.”111 Rolfe's translation is certainly possible, and if Lemnos were indeed among the Cyclades, it would surely be right. Yet Lemnos is so far northeast of the Cyclades that this translation makes little sense. The traditional response to this problem has been to assume, because of Nepos' demonstrable fallibility elsewhere, that Nepos was so badly confused about the geography of the Aegean that he did not understand the inaccuracy of what he was saying. But given that Pliny the Elder refers to Nepos as an authority eleven times in the geographical books of his Natural History, there is reason to believe Page 38 → that Nepos understood the basic geography of the Aegean.112 What, then, might Nepos have meant when he said that Miltiades brought “the remaining islands,

which are called the Cyclades” (ceteras insulas, quae Cyclades nominantur), under Athenian power? What, in particular, is meant by “the remaining islands”? This likely refers to the remaining islands of the Aegean Sea, but not all of them, which it would have been anachronistic to describe as under Athenian power. Since this sentence functions as a coda to Miltiades' conquest of Lemnos on a north wind from his new home in the Chersonese, a more precise solution is to read the sentence from the immediate perspective of the conditions of that conquest and thus to understand Nepos to be referring to “the remaining islands [of the Aegean Sea as one sails (to Athens?) on a north wind from Lemnos], which are called the Cyclades.” The idea is compressed, but it fits the context and is geographically reasonable. An even stronger approach to resolving this difficulty is to reconsider the way that Rolfe has understood the phrase. He translates ceteras insulas, quae Cyclades nominantur as “the remaining islands known as the Cyclades.” The Oxford Latin Dictionary corroborates his translation by offering as its primary definition of ceteri as an adjective “the rest of, the remaining part of, the other.” A clear example of ceteri in this sense comes in the Chabrias, when Nepos explains the manner of Chabrias' death. His ship was the first (primus) to enter the harbor at Chios, but “the rest of” (ceterae) his ships did not follow (4.2). Likewise, he preferred to go down with his ship, whereas “the rest of” (ceteri) his crew did not (4.3). But ceteri does not always refer so strictly to the remainder of a clearly defined group, for it can sometimes refer to others of the same type in a more general way. Earlier in the Chabrias, for example, Nepos explains that when Chabrias was publicly honored with a statue, he chose a distinctive pose for himself, “from which it happened afterward that athletes and other performers made use of their poses when erecting their statues” (ex quo factum est ut postea athletae ceterique artifices iis statibus statuis ponendis uterentur, 1.3). Here the “other performers” (ceteri artifices) are not part of a closed group but are in a group related to the primary group, the athletes. At Conon 3.4, to take another example, Conon Page 39 → reasons that it might be a scandal if he bowed before the Persian king, since he comes from a state (Athens) “that was accustomed to rule over other peoples” (quae ceteris gentibus imperare consuerit). Clearly, Conon is implying not that Athens was accustomed to rule over the remainder of the peoples of the world but only that Athens was generally accustomed to ruling over other peoples rather than being subject to rule. On this model, the phrase ceteras insulas, quae Cyclades nominantur at Miltiades 2.5 would mean that after he captured Lemnos, Miltiades then brought “other islands, (namely) those that are called the Cyclades,” under Athens' power. It is indeed possible to redeem Nepos' expression, if one were to give him the benefit of the doubt.113 I do not mean to suggest that Nepos is free of significant historical errors or that the appearance of error in his work can always be explained away by the further contextualization of each example. Some errors are just that. But the way Nepos has been covered in a blanket of historical reproach is excessive and should be recalibrated. Furthermore, Nepos' accuracy in presenting his sources and his facts is wrongly conceived as the primary criterion by which to judge him.114 This criterion is inappropriate because Nepos was writing not as a historian but as a biographer, and the purposes of the biographer culminate not in the truthful presentation of deeds but in the telling presentation of character. For such privileging of character presentation over historical accuracy, biography was once judged an inferior form of historical writing. But the scholarly rehabilitation of biography as a legitimate genre on its own terms began to take hold right about the time that Horsfall was so critical of Nepos in 1982. Fundamental studies of Plutarch and Suetonius by Christopher Pelling (1979, 1980) and Andrew Wallace-Hadrill (1983) have shaped the subsequent generation of scholarly thinking about ancient biography to such a degree that it has now become trite to protest that biography should not be judged as history. Nepos, however, is only beginning to benefit from the same rehabilitation as his successors, so the point deserves to be stressed again specifically with him in mind.115 Page 40 → I will focus the point through a specific example. It is a rather mundane one, but it seems representative; others like it could be advanced. In Horsfall's list of Nepos' representative mistakes, the fourth and final example is that “the narrative of Hannibal's crossing of the Alps was a travesty.”116 No further explanation is given, but what Horsfall finds problematic is easy enough to surmise. Nepos' account is a brief paragraph, and when one compares it to our two surviving historical narratives (Polyb. 3.47–56; Livy 21.30–38), one finds several points in Nepos to be exaggerations or partial truths. The longer narratives in themselves pose some significant historical problems,

117

but Nepos involves himself with none of them. He simplifies the story to heighten the effectiveness of Hannibal's command (Hann. 3.4): ad Alpes posteaquam venit, quae Italiam ab Gallia seiungunt, quas nemo umquam cum exercitu ante eum praeter Herculem Graium transierat (quo facto is hodie saltus Graius appellatur), Alpicos conantes prohibere transitu concidit, loca patefecit, itinera muniit, effecit ut ea elephantus ornatus ire posset, qua antea unus homo inermis vix poterat repere. hac copias traduxit in Italiamque pervenit. [Afterward [Hannibal] came to the Alps, which divide Italy from Gaul, and which no one ever before him had crossed with an army, except for the Greek Hercules (because of this achievement, that pass today is called the Greek Pass). He cut to pieces those Alpine peoples who were trying to check his crossing, he opened up routes, he built roads, and he brought it about that a laden elephant was able to go where before one unarmed man could scarcely crawl. Thus did he bring his forces across and arrive in Italy.] Page 41 → Most of Nepos' details are problematic for the modern historian: several Gallic armies had crossed over the Alps before Hannibal did (Polyb. 3.48.6; Livy 21.30.7–8); Hercules would have crossed not with an army but with the cattle of Geryon, and the mythical etiology is both distracting and unconvincing; Hannibal hardly “cut to pieces” (concidit) the Alpine tribes but, in fact, suffered considerable losses while holding them at bay (Polyb. 3.51.7–10, 53.1–6; Livy 21.33, 34.6–35.2);118 he built one stretch of road because a landslide had destroyed the previous one (Polyb. 3.54.7–55.9; Livy 21.36–37), but his army, elephants and all, otherwise traveled on known routes. The modern historian gains no usable information from Nepos' paragraph, particularly regarding the still-debated question of Hannibal's route. On such grounds, presumably, does Horsfall judge this account a travesty. Horsfall is certainly right that Nepos is no Polybius, who claims to have crossed the Alps himself to inspect the terrain (3.48.12). Then again, both Polybius and Livy devote a dozen pages to the narrative of the crossing, while Nepos devotes half a dozen lines. Even on such a reduced scale, Horsfall would argue, Nepos could at least have reflected the quality of their accounts. This expectation is common among Nepos' critics, and it is the source of their disappointment. As with the absence of Herodotus in the Miltiades, Nepos does not consistently strive to find the “best” source in accordance with the standards of modern historical writing. Yet he is not inventing things; he is just following a source that modern historians would discredit.119 Consider, for example, Appian's later account of Hannibal's crossing (Hann. 15):

Page 42 → [Having come to the Alps, and having found not even one road through them or up over them (for they are exceedingly precipitous), he boldly pressed on, suffering badly because of the deep snow and icy cold. By cutting and burning wood, then quenching the ashes with water and vinegar, thereby making the rock friable, he broke it into pieces with iron hammers and made a road, which even now is well worn through the mountains and is called Hannibal's Pass.] Although a historian and not a biographer, Appian is like Nepos in that he is consciously reducing an extensive narrative of Mediterranean history into a summary and serial work.120 He undoubtedly conducted considerable

research and had wide knowledge of military history, yet he, too, asserts not only that the Alps had never been crossed with an army before Hannibal but that the Carthaginians even had to build their own road while crossing.121 Somewhere in the ancient historical tradition regarding Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, this version of events had become credible, and Nepos and Appian followed it. To deem it a travesty is unhelpful, for doing so blinds one to what Nepos (or Appian) does convey through his account. Nepos chose his source (or chose from his source) for Hannibal's crossing such that it would provide him with a characterization that he could crystallize into a defining moment. His Hannibal is a eulogy of the Carthaginian's prudence: “Hannibal excelled other commanders in prudentia by as much as the Roman people exceed all nations in bravery.”122 The crossing of the Alps, accordingly, becomes a story of how Hannibal was prepared to meet a challenge that had never been met before. The claim that Hannibal built his road over the Alps while on the march fits Nepos' conception of him so well that he would have had no reason to resist this version of the story. The most Page 43 → exuberant detail in Nepos' account is the claim that Hannibal made it possible that “a laden elephant was able to go where before one unarmed man could scarcely crawl.” This is the image by which Nepos defines the achievement of the crossing and symbolizes the transformative power of being the first to bring an army over the Alps.123 It is the shorthand version of the whole, and the specific context of its historicity is as follows. In Livy's account, after the Carthaginians had crossed the pass, seen Italy resplendent below them, and left behind the bulk of the attacks from hostile natives, they came to the end of the road (ad finem viae, 21.36.3). A landslide had shorn the cliff on which the road had been perched, exposing a drop of one thousand feet (in pedum mille admodum altitudinem, 21.36.2). Livy describes the remaining cliff as so narrow and steep that “only with difficulty could an unencumbered soldier, feeling his way and holding on with his hands to the shrubs and roots sticking out around him, bring himself down.”124 Since there was no other possible route by which the army could advance, Hannibal set his men to rebuild the cliff road (ad rupem muniendam, 21.37.2). Livy reports that they did so by cutting down enough trees to build large fires against the rock, which they extinguished with water and vinegar, as also mentioned in Appian's account. Having made the rock more pliable, they constructed a path through it “so that not only the pack animals but even the elephants could be brought down” (ut non iumenta solum sed elephanti etiam deduci possent, 21.37.3). This episode, a four-day delay in the Carthaginian march, involves the only significant construction required on the whole route, but its resourcefulness succinctly demonstrates the spirit of the whole crossing. For Nepos (and Appian), it becomes the representative achievement: Hannibal “opened up routes, he built roads, and he brought it about that a laden elephant was able to go where before one unarmed man could scarcely crawl” (Hann. 3.4). It is entirely possible that Nepos simply lifted his account from his source, which would make him blameless, if uncritical. But even on the assumption that he reduced the larger account of his source(s) down to the few sentences Page 44 → we now read, he should not be dismissed as a purveyor of blatant misinformation or as complicit in the creation of a travesty. He is a biographer who has achieved brevity by substituting a part for the whole, a substitution that may ultimately mislead the reader about what specifically happened but that succeeds in casting what Nepos felt to be the right light on the character of his subject. Nepos does not seek to misconstrue events, but absolute truth is less important to him than definitive characterization. This difference in priorities is part of what distinguishes biography from history.125 Thus the last of Horsfall's four representative examples of Nepotian error should be attributed to a historian's misunderstanding of a biographer and therefore dismissed. The claim that Nepos placed Lemnos among the Cyclades is also to be resisted. The phrasing is compressed, admittedly, but need not be the product of geographical ignorance or confusion. Horsfall's remaining two examples are demonstrable errors of fact, though they invoke questions of source material. Did Nepos or his source confuse the deeds of Miltiades with his eponymous uncle? Who first confused the battle at Mycale with those at the Eurymedon River? The historical tradition in both cases is far short of crystalline, and the blame for these mistakes could fall on Nepos' sources as much as on Nepos. Either way, the historical value of Nepos' work is small, and the historian will not be satisfied by it. I mean not to deny that conclusion but only to mitigate it. In its place, I would argue that the value of reading Nepos derives not from his skill in accurately reconstructing the Greek past but from the manner in which he supplies a Roman audience with his character judgments about famous non-Roman commanders.

A specific means to that end is to examine how Nepos selects and adapts material from his sources to create his desired emphasis. As with the judgment of Nepos' historical accuracy, Nepos' biographical perspective has too often been overlooked when evaluating his use of his sources, even when it results in the assertion that Nepos was an insufficient reader of Greek to understand what his sources were saying. The most infamous example is Themistocles 9.2–4, which Nepos presents as a translation of Thucydides (1.137.4). Jenkinson Page 45 → claims that Nepos translates this passage “with an error so glaring that one would assume he had before him a different text from ours, were it not for his gross carelessness in other ways elsewhere.” Horsfall, who claims that Nepos' “knowledge of Greek was demonstrably poor,” refers to Nepos' “feeble appetite for exactitude and primary sources, for archival research and the Greek language.”126 I find that the passage suggests otherwise and thus is worth examining closely as a test case. The first point to stress is that Nepos openly allies his Themistocles with Thucydides'. He invites the reader to respect Thucydides' characterization of Themistocles, declaring his approval of it in his opening section (1.4):127 celeriter quae opus erant reperiebat, facile eadem oratione explicabat, neque minus in rebus gerendis promptus quam excogitandis erat, quod et de instantibus, ut ait Thucydides, verissime iudicabat et de futuris callidissime coniciebat. [[Themistocles] swiftly ascertained what was necessary, and he easily explained it in speech. He was no less prompt in carrying things out as he was in thinking them through, since, as Thucydides says, he both judged most truly about the present and conjectured most skillfully about the future.] This characterization of Themistocles paraphrases the judgment of Thucydides 1.138.3, and by advertising his source, Nepos positions himself for the reader as directly knowledgeable of it. Close comparison of Thucydides to the Themistocles confirms Thucydides as one of its primary sources, especially in its second half.128 Thus here is one case where modern historians should respect Page 46 → Nepos' choice of source, not least when the biographer explains that choice on legitimate methodological grounds (Them. 9.1): Scio plerosque ita scripsisse, Themistoclen Xerxe regnante in Asiam transisse. sed ego potissimum Thucydidi credo, quod aetate proximus de iis, qui illorum temporum historiam reliquerunt, et eiusdem civitatis fuit. is autem ait ad Artaxerxen eum venisse. [I know that the majority have written it such that Themistocles crossed to Asia while Xerxes was king. But I believe Thucydides above all, since he was the closest in time out of all those who left behind a history of that period, and he was of the same city. He says that Themistocles went to Artaxerxes.] Thucydides is preferred, Nepos explicitly reasons, because he was closest to contemporary and a fellow citizen. These are defensible criteria, even by modern standards,129 and perhaps they also explain the apparent absence of Herodotus, since Herodotus was not an Athenian. Nepos is rarely so revealing about his method in selecting his source, but here at least, readers have excellent grounds for accepting Nepos' direct knowledge of Thucydides and his high estimation of Thucydides' judgment. This background to Nepos' Themistocles is crucial for interpreting his method in offering what he presents as a direct quote from Thucydides. By ancient standards for quotation, Nepos makes it clear that for the text of Themistocles 9.2–4, he is drawing directly on Thucydides' own text. Side-by-side comparison of the opening sentences confirms the claim: Page 47 → Nepos' rendering of Themistocles' letter is so close to Thucydides' that there can be no doubt that Nepos is deliberately translating from the Greek historian.130 He breaks Thucydides' long sentence into shorter units and detaches the last idea of Thucydides' sentence onto the next one of his, but the order and contents of the two passages demonstrate that Nepos is competent at comprehending Thucydides in Greek and rendering him in Latin. Nepos does make one notable addition to Themistocles' defense of his conduct against Xerxes. In Thucydides,

Themistocles says that it was necessary to ward off Xerxes when he was coming against him; in Nepos, it was necessary for him to war against Xerxes and to defend his homeland (patriamque meam defendere). The effect of the change is to portray Themistocles as less of an individual commander and more of a Greek one, and it is suggestive of a greater consciousness on Nepos' part that military leadership should be presented as Page 48 → more of a public than a private duty.131 As such, the addition of the phrase suggests that Nepos understands Thucydides clearly enough but has chosen to embellish the rhetoric for the sake of increasing his subject's patriotism. It is also indicative of Nepos' handling of the latter part of Themistocles' letter. Soon after this opening sentence, Thucydides interrupts Themistocles' letter with a parenthesis in which he summarizes Themistocles' argument and partially denies its veracity in his own third-person authorial voice. Then he resumes the quotation of the letter's conclusion. Nepos maintains the pose of original quotation throughout, which necessitates some significant changes to his translation of Thucydides. Even so, Nepos adapts the content as well as the form: Page 49 → The passage is structured in three parts, as divided in the text above. The first section presents evidence of past services, the second turns to Themistocles' present need, and the third requests a meeting in person one year in the future. Nepos' translation of the third section is not problematic. He is wordier than Thucydides, but he continues to display clear comprehension, and he even adds a plausible note of deference. A hint of this Nepotian decorum is also visible in the first section quoted above. Thucydides has Themistocles state directly that he is owed a favor for his past benefits to Xerxes. Nepos avoids this outright contention and has Themistocles claim only that Xerxes was freed from danger because of his beneficial message to him. The structure implies that a favor is owed in return, but Nepos seems to prefer to leave that debt implicit rather than explicitly stated. The trickier negotiation is Thucydides' parenthesis. Within it, the historian claims that Themistocles appealed to Artaxerxes based on two occasions on which the former had aided the latter's father. The first occasion was the private message sent from Themistocles to Xerxes that tipped him off to the alleged Greek plans for immediate retreat from Salamis, while the second occasion was just after the battle, when Themistocles informed Xerxes that other Greeks were seeking to destroy his bridge over the Hellespont in order to cut off his retreat.132 Xerxes responded to this news by rushing his retreat in order to complete it before his bridge was lost, which immediately reduced the threat facing Greece. In both cases, then, Themistocles had tricked the Persian into acting in Greek interests by presenting information couched to appeal to his own interest. But the Greek advantage gained by Themistocles is not Thucydides' focus here. He emphasizes that Themistocles' argument is a false one, but the lie is not that he deceived Xerxes by pretending to act in his interests. It is, rather, that Themistocles took credit for having prevented the destruction of the bridge when he was not the one responsible. Page 50 → Nepos presents the emphasis differently.133 He ignores, in the present context, the first argument of Themistocles in Thucydides, namely, the message that sparked the Battle of Salamis. He also drops the issue of whether or not Themistocles was responsible for the subsequent Greek effort to destroy the bridge over the Hellespont and has him say only that the bridge was being attacked by Xerxes' enemies.134 What matters here for Nepos is evident from what he adds, namely, Themistocles' claim that his message to Xerxes about the bridge liberated him from danger (quo nuntio ille periculo est liberatus, 9.3). The thematic importance behind Nepos' emphasis emerges when one looks back at how he narrated these events earlier in the Life, for Nepos there explains how Themistocles was indeed a liberator, but not in the way he presents himself to Artaxerxes. The two occasions that Thucydides summarizes in his parenthetical comment within Themistocles' letter to Artaxerxes are presented in Nepos' earlier narrative as two halves of the same event: the liberation of Greece from the Persian threat. The first half presents the Battle of Salamis; the second, Xerxes' retreat to the Hellespont. In the first, Themistocles tricks the Persian king into attacking the Greeks from such an unfavorable position that it costs

him the battle (4.3–5). Nepos ends the account by declaring that Xerxes was defeated “even more because of Themistocles' design than because of the arms of Greece” (victus ergo est magis etiam consilio Themistocli quam armis Graeciae, 4.5). Yet since the Persian forces were still so numerous, the Greeks were by no means out of danger, and Themistocles had to outwit him again (5.1–3): nam Themistocles, verens ne bellare perseveraret, certiorem eum fecit id agi, ut pons, quem ille in Hellesponto fecerat, dissolveretur ac reditu in Asiam excluderetur, idque ei persuasit. itaque…reversus est seque a Themistocle non superatum, sed conservatum iudicavit. sic unius viri prudentia Graecia liberata est Europaeque succubuit Asia. [Themistocles, fearing that [Xerxes] would continue to wage war, informed him that what was happening was that the bridge that he had Page 51 → made over the Hellespont was being broken up and that he was being shut off from his return to Asia, and he persuaded Xerxes of this. And so…he returned and he judged that he had been not subdued but preserved by Themistocles. In this way, by the prudence of this one man, Greece was liberated and Asia yielded to Europe.] Themistocles' trickery is so impressive for Nepos not just because his enemy fell for it but because its deception served truly significant national ends: by his prudentia alone, Greece was liberated from potential Asian domination.135 Hence it is to this theme that Nepos returns when he chooses not to follow Thucydides and interrupt Themistocles' letter to Artaxerxes with an authorial parenthesis. He chooses instead to maintain the first-person perspective and has Themistocles describe his conduct precisely as Nepos himself did earlier in the biography: eum certiorem feci id agi ut pons, quem in Hellesponto fecerat, dissolveretur (9.3) virtually copies certiorem eum fecit id agi, ut pons, quem ille in Hellesponto fecerat, dissolveretur (5.1). Yet the point in the Themistoclean letter is that this message to Xerxes liberated him from danger (quo nuntio ille periculo est liberatus, 9.3), whereas the reader, triggered by Nepos' own internal quotation, should remember Nepos' earlier judgment that Greece was liberated because of Themistocles' prudence. What made his prudence so effective was that Xerxes believed that he had been not defeated but preserved (non superatum, sed conservatum, 5.2) by Themistocles. Yet the reality, as Nepos presents it, is that it was Greece that was preserved by Themistocles and not defeated by Xerxes. Just as Nepos did earlier in the letter when he added Themistocles' motivation to defend his homeland, here, too, he characterizes the significance of Themistocles' achievement not in individual terms but on a national scale. For Nepos, then, Themistocles' deception of Xerxes saved his country, and that deception is approvingly described as strategic design (consilio, 4.5) and prudent anticipation (prudentia, 5.3). However, when Themistocles comes to find himself banished from Greece and in need of the Persian king's protection, the strongest basis for his appeal to Artaxerxes lies in the duplicitous success of his earlier relationship with Xerxes. The dramatic irony of Themistocles' situation, in other words, is that the deception that caused Xerxes to believe wrongly that Themistocles was his salvation is now what Page 52 → Themistocles depends on for his own salvation from Artaxerxes. Nepos exploits that irony even further by having the language with which he recasts Thucydides' authorial parenthesis recite his own earlier language, for the echo thereby strengthens its misleading credibility. This strengthening of Themistocles' rhetorical position also becomes the likely motivation behind what Jenkinson described as Nepos' “glaring error” of translation in this passage. Let us return to the middle section of the passage: The alleged error in question is specifically the rendering of (“on account of my friendship for 136 you”) as tuam petens amicitiam (“seeking your friendship”). Thucydides' text emphasizes that Themistocles' friendship with the Persian king was the reason for his exile from Greece, while Nepos' account presents friendship with the king as the object Themistocles seeks. But before it is assumed that Nepos has misunderstood Thucydides, note how Nepos has handled Themistocles' claim earlier in Thucydides' sentence that he is “capable of doing [Artaxerxes] great services.” This point is the more positive side of the argument: the Persian's friendship

has been the source of Themistocles' troubles, but it can be also be the beneficiary of Themistocles' strengths, for now that he has come to Persia, he is prepared to put his capable self in the service of that friendship. Thucydides' Themistocles is again rather bluntly reminding Artaxerxes that he is a powerful man who is owed a favor. Nepos, in turn, softens Themistocles' tone with the king by presenting Page 53 → him as requesting a friendship with Artaxerxes and then promising fidelity to it: “if I obtain [your friendship], you will hold me as no less a good friend than your father found me a brave enemy.” This formulation also returns to the dichotomy with which Themistocles began the letter, namely, that he brought the most harm (plurima mala) to Xerxes even while doing him many more services (multo plura bona feci, 9.3). The crucial tension of Themistocles' rhetorical position is that he seeks the protection of a house against which he has dealt major defeats yet which regards him as not an enemy but a savior. Nepos here further stresses that tension by having Themistocles elide what it means to be a “good friend” with what it means to be a “brave enemy,” even while Nepos' reader knows that the secret of Themistocles' success was his deception of Xerxes into thinking he was acting as friend when he was indeed still his enemy. A further point of historical consideration from Nepos' perspective is that Themistocles had little to no connection with Artaxerxes himself. His friendship with Artaxerxes was dependent on his acceptance of the terms that Themistocles claims to have had with his father.137 Hence it is once again both prudent and strategic for Themistocles not to assume that friendship but to claim to seek it on the grounds of past service to the Persian royal house. Nepos' characterization of Themistocles in the act of seeking Artaxerxes' friendship adopts a more plausibly nuanced pose than Thucydides' direct assertion of it. It cannot be proven that Nepos did not misunderstand Thucydides' and so mistranslate it. But the phrase itself is not a difficult one, certainly not as rhetorically difficult as the circumstances in which Themistocles found himself. Nepos' reasons for changing the details of his source should not be limited to incomprehension, for source criticism should also involve literary criticism. By contextualizing Nepos' handling of the Thucydidean quotation against his characterization of Themistocles elsewhere in his biography, one can recognize thematic reasons for his rendering. His desire to intensify Themistocles' position rhetorically is thus a more apt explanation for his alteration of Thucydides' text than is a belief that his knowledge of Greek was inadequate to understand his source. It is a misguided assumption to expect that a later author in the ancient tradition would treat Thucydides with Page 54 → the same scrupulous exactitude a modern historian would, since the demand that Nepos maintain perfect accuracy in translating from a source would deny him the opportunity to put his own polish on his text.138 Perhaps it is not necessary to defend Nepos at such length for his alleged poor style, historical inaccuracy, and misunderstanding of sources, since many historians have indeed recognized that biography differs from history in its emphasis and in its method. Modern students of Themistocles already know to read Plutarch differently from Herodotus and Thucydides.139 Yet Nepos is the least impressive of the extant ancient biographers, and the generic accommodations awarded to Plutarch are less generously offered to Nepos. It is only fair to admit that his historical imprecision and his flat style do not inspire the admiration for the writer's achievement that Plutarch's readers feel. Even so, he does not merit all of the scorn directed at him, and such scorn is pernicious, for it discourages new readers of Nepos from taking the time to form their own opinion of his corpus, his contributions to Roman literary history, and his historical and political thought. Hence I have sought to blunt its debilitating force in order to look anew at Nepos' cultural position in the late Roman Republic. 1. Catullus 1.1–7 = Marshall fr. 2 (references to Marshall fragments throughout this book are to P. K. Marshall 1977a: here 101). As Marshall does, I omit the final lines of the poem and the vexed question of the text of line 9. Even though that question is involved in all of the interpretations of the relationship between Catullus and Nepos discussed below, the resolution of the textual question of line 9 generally follows from each scholar's larger understanding of the poem and is not, in itself, determinative of that understanding. Tatum 1997: 482–88 refocuses the question from a textual to a social issue (the terms for which Stroup 2010, esp. 1–20, seeks to redefine), while Gratwick 2002 reviews the textual issues while proposing a new text.

2. Ausonius, Ecl. 1.1–3, quotes Catullus 1.1 and then answers the question with reference to Nepos (dedit statim Nepoti), demonstrating his understanding that Cornelius Nepos is the Cornelius here intended (see further Newman 1990: 104–8). Ausonius knew Nepos' Chronica himself, as he sent a copy of it to his patron (Epist. 12.1 = Marshall fr. 1). Antonio Partenio, author in 1485 of the first complete commentary on Catullus, also identified Nepos as Catullus' addressee (see Gaisser 1993: 78–96, esp. 88), and the identification has been generally accepted since. Simpson 1992, however, doubts Ausonius' reliability and suggests that Catullus' dedicatee was the historian L. Cornelius Sisenna. 3. Pliny, NH 3.127, refers to Nepos as Padi accola (= Marshall fr. 19). See further Wiseman 1979: 161 n. 48; Rawson 1985: 35; Geiger 1985b: 67. Nepos would later become a famous local son: see Pliny, Epist. 4.28, with Marchesi 2008: 203–6. Catullus was born in Verona; for the local roots and stature of his family, see Wiseman 1985a: 107–15; 1987b: 307–70; 2007. 4. Marshall fr. 4 (and compare 5, on Rome's foundation), 7, and 9, respectively. For translations and brief commentary, see Horsfall 1989: 31–32, 117–18. See further Malcovati 1964: 177–80; Peter 1906: l–liii, 25–26. 5. Milo of Croton: Marshall fr. 6, though Nepos is not named. Saturn: Marshall fr. 3. 6. See Marshall fr. 4, 7, and 8, with Fantham 1981 and Feeney 2007: 32–42. In fr. 4, the first time Gellius cites Nepos in this passage, he explicitly does so from “Cornelius Nepos, in the first Chronicle” (Cornelius Nepos in primo chronicorum, 17.21.3). This is the only direct attestation of this work by both author and title before Ausonius, who cites the work's Greek title, Chronica (= Marshall fr. 1). For Greek titles from late republican authors, see Frier 1975: 92n49. 7. See further Wiseman 1979: 157–58 (with earlier bibliography cited at 158 n. 22); Geiger 1985b: 68–72; Horsfall 1989: xvii, 99, 117; Feeney 2007: 20–28. 8. Quinn 1973: 89–90, though he is also sympathetic to the possibility of a Nepos with “an affectation of conversational nonchalance not unlike” Catullus'. Note that Nepos himself compliments Catullus (and Lucretius) as poets at Att. 12.4. Batstone 2007: 250 finds it a significant indicator of Nepos' tastes that Catullus is there paired with Lucretius and not another neoteric poet (Elder 1966: 149 n. 18 reads the pairing differently). 9. So, e.g., Merrill 1893: 2 (note also the biographical assumptions at xvii and xli), Wheeler 1934: 221–23, and, still, Fordyce 1961: 83. For the midcentury Catullus, see Gaisser 2007: 2–6 (and 6–24 for subsequent critical revolutions, which the story of Catullus 1 follows). 10. Copley 1951: 204–5 and n. 19. 11. Elder 1966: 146 posits that the criticism of Volusius' “Ennian-like Annales” at Catullus 95.7–8 is definitional for an “Ennian model of lengthy historical narrative.” 12. Elder 1966: 143–46. Note esp. 143–44: “If respected literary leaders like Nepos, who despite probable personal claims would thus also be a generic figure in this poem, will accept the New Poetry, then Catullus' collection (whatever it was) will indeed live plus uno saeclo.” Zetzel 1982: 100 endorses Elder's view and goes one step further: “the contrast between Catullus' book and Nepos' Chronica is an implicit recusatio.” 13. Cairns 1969: 153–55; Levine 1969: 211–13; Singleton 1972: 192–94. 14. For Cairns (1969: 154), Catullus' praise for his dedicatee is an “elegant device” that reveals the irony behind his description of his own work as “trifles” (nugae), at the same time that it explains why Nepos recognized the real worth of those trifles. “Thus,” notes Singleton 1972: 194, “the introductory function and the dedicatory function of the poem are combined in such a way that each assists the fulfillment of the other.” 15. Levine 1969: 212–13: “[S]uch a view surely misses the mark and makes the poet guilty of uncharacteristic maladroitness. Moreover, Catullus is a severely economic poet and would hardly have been likely to devote almost one-third of a short poem to a mere compliment, the patronizing idleness of which, if he had in fact no better purpose, would have been quite obvious and potentially offensive to Nepos, whom he wished indeed to honor.” See also Singleton 1972: 193–94. 16. Singleton 1972: 194. 17. Wiseman 1979: 141–82 (quote from 171). 18. Batstone 2007: 236 describes the poem as “perhaps the most uncontroversial example of a programmatic poem in the Catullan corpus.” See further Syndikus 1984: 71–78. 19. Skeptical or ironic readers after 1980: Goold 1981; Gibson 1995; Rauk 1997; Batstone 1998: 125, 2007:

250. Goold 1981 builds on Goold 1974 and receives a rebuttal in Arkins 1983. Janan 1994: 39–40 sees ironic aporia: “The poem refuses to resolve our dilemma, leaving it—and Cornelius—an open question.” Batstone 1998: 125 n. 3 pinpoints the scholarly difficulty: “Nothing is so controversial as irony: for, if it could be proved, it would cease to be irony. Hence, the bibliography is divided.” Gratwick 2002: 311 well demonstrates, however, how irony “can be a difficult horse to ride.” 20. Tatum 1997: 485, somewhat anticipated by Small 1983: 7. For other indications of Wiseman's influence, see Fitzgerald 1995: 252 n. 22; Thomson 1997: 197; Habinek 1998: 94–95, 112–13; Nappa 2001: 135 n. 3, 140; Woodman 2003: 191–92; Green 2005: 212; Osgood 2006: 294. Gratwick 2002: 311 n. 30 argues that the “cardinal literary virtues” of each writer are “so intrinsically different” that the contrasts between them are more salient than their overlap (thereby rejecting Wiseman's perspective), yet he still advocates on contextual grounds that the poem contains “no leg-pulling or irony” (316; see also 307, 311, 314, 317–19). 21. Gibson 1995. Two caveats are in order, however. First, the irony is mixed with praise: “Doctis, it is true, can only be a positive epithet, especially in a poem of Callimachean allegiance” (Gibson 1995: 570). Second, this argument neglects the dedicatory context. Ironic criticism of the recipient risks diminishing the act of giving, while ironic self-evaluation dampens arrogance on the part of the giver: so Woodman 2003: 192–96, who also argues that explicare in 1.6 is a laudatory allusion to Nepos' own description of the Chronica (compare Gibson 1995: 571–72; see further Gaisser 2009: 22–27). Irony, therefore, cannot be the only strategy at work in Catullus' poem. 22. Compare Rauk 1997: 331–32 to Wiseman 1979: 169–71. Batstone 2007: 250 also concludes with a compromise: “Nepos is as good a reader as one should expect. He shares some values (daring, learning, reduction) but not all (he writes history, by Jupiter, and it's laborious) or the wit (lepidus).” So also Gaisser 2009: 23, 26; Stroup 2010: 220–21. 23. Rauk 1997: 320–26 (there is a hint of this idea already at Jenkinson 1967: 1, where Catullus teases Nepos “as only a good friend could”). On the sense of salaputium, see Quinn 1973: 248–49; Thomson 1997: 333. Quinn 1973: 247 shares Rauk's perspective on poem 53: “urbanitas dictated something short of unqualified approval, even of a friend's oratorical triumph: the compliment and [Catullus'] way of telling the anecdote manage to convey a hint that Calvus was laying it on a shade thick.” The sense of laboriosis at 1.7 would play a similar role: see Quinn 1973: 90; Gibson 1995: 570–71. Marincola 1997: 155–56, however, interprets Catullus' sense of Nepos' labor without irony. 24. Copley 1951: 205 n. 19. This interpretation is also implicit in Janan 1994: 39–40. 25. Wiseman 1979: 157, 182 (note also Geiger 1985b: 71–72). 26. Gibson 1995: 571. But then he argues that “Callimacheanism here seems a matter of relativity” and that Nepos' three rolls make a big book relative to Catullus' one little one. Relative brevity, however, seems a poor criterion for relative Callimacheanism. After all, Callimachus' Aetia was in four books and Nepos' Chronica in three, but that should not make Nepos the more Callimachean. Note Cairns 1969: 153 and n. 2. 27. Consider, e.g., Velleius, with Woodman 1975: 277–87 and Lobur 2007. 28. Cato 3.1–2: cupidissimus litterarum fuit. quarum studium etsi senior arripuerat, tamen tantum progressum fecit, ut non facile reperiri possit neque de Graecis neque de Italicis rebus, quod ei fuerit incognitum. 29. Horsfall 1989: 57. For the opposite view, see Wiseman 1979: 161–66, esp. 164, who argues that Nepos' critical judgment of Cato's treatment of “amazing things” (admiranda) showed how he, like Catullus, understood that such subjects required an Alexandrian “mythographical expertise” when it came to explaining geography. 30. For discussion of On Famous Men and On Foreign Generals, see the next section of this chapter. For the comparative design and attestation of On Roman Generals, see Hann. 13.4. From On Latin Historians, biographies of Cato the Elder and of Atticus are extant. For the cross-reference to On Greek Historians, see Dion 3.2. 31. For the fragments of the lost works, see P. K. Marshall 1977a: 101–13. For the evidence about numbers of books, see Marshall fr. 43 (On Famous Men), 36 (Cato), 37 (Cicero), 2 (Chronica), and 12 (Exempla). Nepos' correspondence with Cicero (in at least two books: see Macrobius, Sat. 2.1.14; Shackleton Bailey 1988: 167–68) was presumably published posthumously. Nepos' carmina are attested at Pliny, Epist. 5.3.6 (= Marshall fr. 63), where he is grouped with Virgil, Accius, and Ennius. For quick introductions to Nepos' corpus, see Horsfall 1989: xv–xxi; Conte 1994: 221–23; Albrecht 1997: 476–88.

32. For this libellus, as attested at Suet., De Gram. et Rhet. 4.1 (= Marshall fr. 61, where it is attributed to On Famous Men), see Horsfall 1989: xvii, 120; Kaster 1995: 93–94. 33. The best treatment of Nepos' corpus is Geiger 1985b: 66–116 (discussed in chapter 3 of the present study); Anselm 2004: 24–60 provides a valuable survey of the scholarship on Nepos. 34. E.g., Cairns 1969: 153: “Catullus' praise of the Chronica is couched (albeit informally) in the language of Alexandrian literary criticism and shows clearly that Catullus is lauding the Chronica as a work conforming to the canons of that school and possessing all the standard Alexandrian virtues.” Wiseman 1979: 171 also acknowledges Nepos as a neoteric historian. But Clausen, who pioneered the recognition of Callimachean influences on Roman poetry (see 1964), found the idea of a neoteric Nepos “absurd” (1976: 37–38 n. 1). 35. Winterbottom 1979: 55. Consequently, he finds the history of Nepos' manuscript tradition “more interesting than the author.” 36. Jenkinson 1973: 713, 715–16; see also Jenkinson 1967: 10–11. Her 1967 essay bluntly begins with what she calls a fair (i.e., not a rhetorical) question: “Why spend time on Nepos?” McCarty 1974 offers a fair answer, in an article a generation ahead of its time but now superseded by Titchener 2003. 37. So Jenkinson 1967: 1; Jenkinson 1973: 703–4; Horsfall 1982: 290. 38. Horsfall 1982: 290–92. 39. Poem 50, e.g., shows a much different side of Catullus' friendship with Calvus than poem 53, and there is no evidence for such intimacy between Nepos and Catullus. 40. For the literary culture of the late Republic, see Fantham 1996: 20–54; Stroup 2010. For the changing literary status of Ennius, see Hinds 1998: 52–83. 41. For the manuscript tradition of Nepos, see P. K. Marshall 1977a and 1977b (whose text I follow throughout, though with the replacement of consonantal u with v). If Marshall's understanding of that tradition is right, avers Winterbottom 1979: 55, “it is doubtful if Nepos will need (or deserve) to be edited again.” 42. See further P. K. Marshall 1977b: 1–2; Cameron 2002. For the text of the epigram, see P. K. Marshall 1977a: 87. The “author” reveals himself to be Probus in lines 9–10: si rogat auctorem, paulatim detege nostrum / tunc domino nomen: me sciat esse Probum. 43. For the first known identification of Nepos as the author (in 1437), see Momigliano 1971: 99; P. K. Marshall 1977b: 47; Albrecht 1997: 486. See Geiger 1982 for a reassertion of the arguments in favor of Nepos against Schmidt 1978: 1641–47 (himself reviving Unger 1882). See further Schmidt 2001, answered by Anselm 2004: 36–43. Part of the difficulty, as Tuplin 2000: 161 notes, is that “Nepos' Foreign Generals is never cited in antiquity and without a MS tradition its very existence would be unprovable.” 44. So Geiger 1982: 134, who then aptly summarizes the circumstantial case: “a) the book was transmitted with works of Nepos; b) it is addressed to a close friend of Nepos [i.e., Atticus] and one who was deeply interested in historical literature; c) it belongs to a series similar to the one attested for Nepos; d) it is composed in a style greatly resembling that of Nepos; e) the date of composition agrees with that of Nepos' de viris illustribus.” 45. For text, translation, and commentary on Cornelia's letter, see Marshall fr. 59; Gratwick 1982: 145–47; Horsfall 1989: 41–43 (with Horsfall 1987), 125–26; Courtney 1999: 135–39; Hallett 2006: 119–37; Dixon 2007: 26–29. Gratwick 1982: 146 notes that “if genuine, this [letter] is the earliest extant prose-writing in any language by a woman.” Cicero claims to have read letters of Cornelia at Brut. 211, and they are also mentioned at Quint. 1.1.6 and Plut., C. Gracch. 13.2. That a biography of one or both of the Gracchi existed somewhere in Nepos' corpus is rendered likely by a reference to Nepos at Plut., Ti. Gracch. 21.2 (= Marshall fr. 51). But the Gracchi were not historians, so their biography would not have been in On Latin Historians. It is possible that Cornelia had her own Life (see Geiger 1979a: 662). 46. For translation and commentary on the Cato, see Horsfall 1989: 3–6, 47–57; Ruch 1968: 23–33. On Cato's Origines, see Chassignet 2002; Badian 1966: 7–11; Astin 1978: 211–39; Horsfall 1989: 35–38, 121–23 (with Moles 1993b: 76); Dillery 2009: 90–102; Gotter 2009. Astin 1978 describes Nepos' discussion of the Origines in the Cato as “extremely valuable” (299) and “by far the most important of the ancient statements” about it (212), whereas Horsfall 1989: 4 is grudging: “The summary of the Origines (3.3–4) is in part a shambles. We shall never know whether the longer version was better. The deficiencies probably reflect only hasty and unverified abbreviation; that he at least glanced at the original we can hardly

deny.” Astin can also be critical of Nepos' account (1978: 213–14), but without Horsfall's seemingly predetermined curmudgeonliness about Nepos. 47. Hence Syme 1964: 235 calls it “a startling novelty,” one that Geiger contextualizes (1985b: 95, with 1980; 2008: 93–94). 48. As Toher 2002: 139 notes, this understanding of Att. 19.1 has been the scholarly consensus since Leo 1901: 213–15. But Toher finds the fact of the Atticus' uniqueness troublesome: biography is a genre that had always required the death of the subject to complete the work (2002: 140, 144). Hence he argues that edita here means, effectively, dicta and that the first eighteen chapters were “probably presented orally on occasion to private audiences” but not properly published until after Atticus' death (2002: 143). With Geiger 2008: 43 n. 60, I do not find this understanding of edita convincing, particularly since sunt editi at Att. 16.3 in reference to some of Cicero's treatises clearly has the sense of “publish” (as Toher 2002: 143 acknowledges, though with the caveat that a definite subject is indicated). 49. As part of his argument to deny the theory of the Atticus' second edition, Toher 2002: 148–49 questions the manuscripts' attribution of the Atticus to the book On Latin Historians. He suggests that the length and detail of the Atticus are more suitable as an independent work than as part of a series of seemingly much shorter lives in On Famous Men. 50. So Geiger 1985b: 85; Millar 1988: 41, 52; Horsfall 1989: 8 (though he mistakenly claims that Octavian is referred to as Octavian at Att. 20.1). For the evolution of Augustus' name, see Syme 1958a. Dionisotti 1988: 38 n. 15 and 42 n. 29 finds the phrase non est enim celandum in Atticus 12.2 to be the sort of phrase that could have been added in the second edition and therefore weak evidence for dating the first edition of the Atticus after 35. She suggests a date in the late forties, based on Nepos' political comments in On Foreign Generals. 51. See Millar 1988: 41; Pliny states that Nepos was not a senator (Epist. 5.3.6) Taylor 1968: 472–73 discusses Atticus as an eques but omits Nepos. 52. Horsfall 1989: 7 (see more fully xix, 7–14); the sentiment is shared by Conte 1994: 223, Stadter 2007: 533, and even Geiger 1985b: 104. Note also Rawson 1985: 104: “affected by the low esteem in which Nepos' other surviving Lives are held, [the Atticus] is not usually recognised for what it is, an illuminating study of a remarkable man.” For more on the Atticus, see the first section of chapter 2 in the present study. 53. So Geiger 1985b: 99; Horsfall 1989: 8 (contra Jenkinson 1967: 2). 54. The proper ancient title of the book is not certain (Horsfall 1982: 845). Geiger 1979a: 662 n. 2 and P. K. Marshall 1977a: 1 follow the headings of the manuscripts: “The Book on Distinguished Generals of Foreign Peoples” (Liber De Excellentibus Ducibus Exterarum Gentium). Yet I am doubtful that this is the ancient title. The adjective “distinguished” (excellentibus) looks to have crept in from the closing words of the Preface (also at Epam. 4.6), since no comparable adjective appears in Nepos' cross-reference to the book On Greek Historians (libro…de historicis Graecis, as referred to at Dion 3.2) or in the manuscripts for the book On Latin Historians (libro…de Latinis historicis, P. K. Marshall 1977a: 87). I also wonder if duces is the right word for “generals,” since Nepos uses imperatores at the beginning and ending of the book (Pref. 8; Hann. 13.4). 55. Tuplin 2000: 143 demonstrates that the length of the biographies in the book further breaks down into two groups: fourteen Lives that average 2.5 pages each and nine Lives that average 7.4 pages each. In Winstedt's 1904 version of Nepos in the Oxford Classical Texts series, the book of generals occupies 104 pages, with a consequent average length of approximately 4.5 pages (the Atticus is 15 pages, the Cato 2). 56. For the possibility that Nepos influenced Plutarch's choice of biographical subjects even while Plutarch reformulated and transcended Nepos' conception of a comparative series, see Geiger 1981: 95–99; 1985b: 105–6, 117–20; 1988 supported by Georgiadou 1997: 4–5, Duff 1999: 247 and 290–91, and Titchener 2003: 86 n. 4, but challenged by Moles 1989: 232–33. Compare Russell 1973: 106–9, and see further Sansone 1989: 6–12. For the practice of comparison (synkrisis) in Plutarch's Parallel Lives more generally, see Duff 1999 (esp. 243–86); Pelling 2002: 349–63; Humble 2010. 57. So Horsfall 1982: 292 (and 1989: 115); Geiger 1985b: 85. 58. On the choice of heroes, see Geiger 1985b: 96. The ordering of the first nine Lives seems unremarkable, ending with Thrasybulus and Conon and thereby moving from the fifth century to the fourth. This group is then structurally sealed off by the shift to the Sicilian Dion as the tenth in the series. Then come seven fourth-century figures by region, in the order Athens (Iphicrates, Chabrias, Timotheus; identified at Timoth.

3.4 as a trio), Caria (Datames), Thebes (Epaminondas and Pelopidas, directly compared at Pel. 4.1–3), and Sparta (Agesilaus). 59. The chronological and geographical logic of the rest of the book would have suggested that they be paired somewhere within the fourth-century Lives (i.e, consecutively, starting at some point between the tenth and eighteenth). 60. Anselm 2004, esp. 60–66, advocates an overall structure of the book's twenty-three Lives (i.e., including the survey of kings as an equal member) as (7 + 3) + 3 + (7 + 3), with the first decad devoted to the glory of Athens, the middle triad devoted to the end of Athenian hegemony, and the last decad exploring the decline of the foreign world. With Tuplin 2006: 499, I find this arrangement overplotted but still suggestive of a purposeful structuring (Geiger 2005: 520 is more favorable). The Sicilian Lives are the main sticking point: the Dion does not relate to the glory of Athens, and the Timoleon does not involve decline and ends rather optimistically (Dionisotti 1988: 40 aptly describes the whole Life as “a veritable hymn to libertas”). 61. See P. K. Marshall 1977a: 76. Anselm 2004: 147–48 (also 62–63) argues that the structuring within On Kings reflects the structure of the whole book, and she assigns it its own place within that structure. Yet on the model of the way that Timoth. 4.5–6 introduces the following Datames, it seems possible, even preferable, that the discussion of kings is an extended transitional digression more than a distinct entry into the book's series (Dionisotti 1988: 49 terms it “a post-script to the life of Timoleon”). So perhaps it is better to think of the book's structure as two sets of ten Lives, each ending with a Sicilian, plus two Carthaginians. Such a conception would thereby further highlight the chronological misplacement of the Sicilians, but to what end? Dionisotti 1988: 40 suggests that their placement is to emphasize Nepos' particularly high regard for tyrant slayers. 62. For the limited role of the kingship in the Spartan “mixed” constitution at the time of Agesilaus, see Cartledge 1987: 99–138. 63. Reg. 2.1: Ex Macedonum autem gente duo multo ceteros antecesserunt rerum gestarum gloria: Philippus, Amyntae filius, et Alexander Magnus. horum alter Babylone morbo consumptus est. The Eumenes mentions Alexander several times, but only indirectly and in very neutral ways (e.g., 1.6–2.2, 7.1–3). For the tradition involving Alexander in late republican Rome, see Spencer 2002; Morello 2002; Mossman 2005: 498 n. 3. 64. So, e.g., Wissowa 1900: 1412; Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 3; Schanz and Hosius 1927: 1.356–57; Rolfe 1929: 357, 614 n. 1 (= 1984: ix, 248 n. 1); Albrecht 1997: 477. 65. For these arguments, see Geiger 1979a and 1985b: 89–90 (Dionisotti 1988: 49 thinks Geiger “may well be right”; Tuplin 2000: 158 finds him “surely right”; Horsfall 1989: 11 agrees that “kings must go”). Geiger 1979a: 667–68 also points out that the Preface of On Foreign Generals makes significantly less sense if the reader has already encountered Nepotian biographies of e.g., Alexander and Ptolemy and—last but far from least—that Nepos says he is writing about not the deeds (res gestae, Reg. 1.1) of men but, rather, their life (vita, Pel. 1.1; Pref. 8; Epam. 4.6). 66. So Geiger 1979a: 668 n. 34. The question, in sum, is whether separatim in Reges 1.1 is to be understood with omnium (as quorum separatim in Epam. 4.6) or with sunt relatae (as separatim de eo fecimus in Cato 3.5). The other occurrences of separatim in the corpus are not decisive: Dat. 11.2 (“he buried swords in several places separately,” compluribus locis separatim gladios obruit) emphasizes the difference of each place, while Att. 18.3 (“He did this same thing separately in other books,” fecit hoc idem separatim in aliis libris) emphasizes a separate place from his first book. 67. See, carefully, Geiger 1985b: 84–116. For the extant remains of On Famous Men outside the main manuscript tradition, see P. K. Marshall 1977a: 108–13 (fr. 40–62). 68. In addition to the Cato and Atticus, we have only one other attestation of a Life likely included in On Latin Historians (see Geiger 1985b: 79, 88), that of Manius Otacilius Pitholaus (if that is how one spells his name). See Marshall fr. 57 (= Suet., De Gram. et Rhet. 27), with Kaster 1995: 297–301. 69. Even though he wrote in Greek, Albinus is often thought to have been included in On Latin Historians because he was a Roman and because the manuscript tradition of Gellius includes the variant of book 14 (XIIII) for the citation of this anecdote. See further Geiger 1985b: 87 and n. 81. The anecdote was well known: see further Polyb. 39.1; Peter 1914: cxxiv–vi, 53–54; Walbank 1957–79: 3.726–28; Kaimio 1979: 228–29; Dillery 2009: 102–4. 70. If the reference to the book On Greek Historians at Dion 3.2 is a backward reference, then the books on

generals followed the books on historians and were books 15 and 16 at the earliest. But citations of Charisius place the Latin words partum in book 15 and patruele in book 16 (= Marshall fr. 42–43), neither of which occurs in On Foreign Generals, which suggests that the books on generals were books 17 and 18 or beyond. The book numbers in themselves are not significant, but it may well be significant that the books on generals come late in the collection, perhaps last (see Geiger 1985b: 87–116, but note Tuplin 2000: 142–43). 71. See Fronto, ad Verum 2.1.17 (van den Hout 1988: 126, whose text in his second edition differs from that of his first, which = Marshall fr. 60; from both of which the text of Haines 1919: 2.144–45 also differs), with van den Hout 1999: 302. 72. Plutarch: Marc. 30; Syn. Pel. Marc. 1; Ti. Gracch. 21; Luc. 43 (= Marshall fr. 48–49, 51–52). See further Geiger 1985b: 104–6. 73. Suet., Ter. 1, 3 = Marshall fr. 53–54. In the Preface to his own On Famous Men (= Marshall fr. 40), Jerome acknowledges Nepos as a model (along with Varro, Santra, and Hyginus) but places most emphasis on the precedent of Suetonius. He is referring not to the largely extant Lives of the Caesars, however, but to Suetonius' biographies of writers and literary men, now largely lost. For what does remain, see WallaceHadrill 1983: 26–72; Baldwin 1983: 379–466; Kaster 1995, esp. xxi–xlviii (as well as 93–94 on Marshall fr. 61). For Jerome's De Viris Illustribus, see further Halton 1999. 74. Beyond the categories of generals and historians, judges Horsfall 1989: 12, is “a good deal of essentially inconclusive speculation.” Geiger 1985b: 88–92, building from 1979a: 662, generally clears away the debris (e.g., Jenkinson 1967: 2) but is not followed by Albrecht 1997: 477–78. Earlier reconstructions: Nipperdey and Lupus 1879: xxi–xxiv (curtailed in Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 3 but still followed in Guillemin 1970: x); Wissowa 1900: 1412–13; Peter 1906: lv; Schanz and Hosius 1927: 1.356–57. 75. In the reconstruction of the titles of the sixteen books of On Famous Men at Nipperdey and Lupus 1879: xxii, for example, the only books that are not thought to treat Greeks and Romans exclusively are On Foreign Kings and On Foreign Generals. See further Geiger 1979a: 664–66 for the workings and the shortcomings of this line of reasoning. 76. Leo 1901: 195–98 (and 213–15) developed this theory, and it has been almost universally accepted: Peter 1906: xxxxviiii, lv-lvi; Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 4–5; Schanz and Hosius 1927: 1.357; Rolfe 1929: 359 (= Rolfe 1984: xi); Momigliano 1971: 98 n. 37; Jenkinson 1973: 705; Horsfall 1982: 292; Geiger 1985b: 85, 97; Rawson 1985: 231; Dionisotti 1988: 38 n. 15; Oxford Classical Dictionary (3rd ed.) 1996: 396; Albrecht 1997: 478; Anselm 2004: 43–46. Rahn 1957 (rebutted by Stark 1964) and Toher 2002 (partially rebutted by Geiger 2008: 43) are the only exceptions, both of whom seek to deny the existence of any second edition whatsoever, including of the Atticus. 77. The following argument is indebted to the thoughtful skepticism of Geiger 1979a and Toher 2002: 141–43, 146–47. Toher 2002 seeks to deny the arguments for the second editions of both the Atticus and On Foreign Generals, and although his arguments about the Atticus are unconvincing, his arguments about On Foreign Generals are sound. Separating the question of the second edition of On Foreign Generals from that of the Atticus makes apparent the flimsy evidence for the former. 78. Note Toher 2002: 141–42; Geiger 1985b: 97. 79. The phrase is not uncommon for citations of this kind: see the Oxford Latin Dictionary, relinquo 8d (“scriptum relinquere: to leave a written record, leave it on record”). Earlier in the Hannibal, e.g., Nepos reports that “some have left it written” (alii…scriptum reliquerunt, 8.2) that Mago was killed by his slaves. Twice in the Brutus, Cicero refers to what Cato the Elder “left written” (in Originibus scriptum reliquit Cato, 75; sicut idem scriptum reliquit Cato, 90). The phrase denotes that reference is being made to a written source rather than an oral one. It does not inherently provide any indication of whether the author of the written source is alive or not. 80. So, e.g., Cicero, Brut. 13 (published in 46 BCE; see Douglas 1966: ix–x), describes Atticus' Liber Annalis as “the book in which [Atticus] addressed me while I was, as it were, sprawled on the ground, and raised me up” (libri quo me hic adfatus quasi iacentem excitavit). Atticus is a participant in the dialogue and is thus dramatically present to hear Cicero's words, yet Cicero speaks of the book itself in the perfect tense (excitavit). 81. See further Rawson 1985: 246. See Polyb. 23.13 for his claim, with Walbank 1957–79: 3.235–39. Rawson 1985: 230 regards Sulpicius Blitho as “unknown,” and Peter 1914: 316 likewise offers nothing

about him except this passage. 82. Horsfall 1989: 8–9 is rightly skeptical of detecting any specific changes to the second edition of the Atticus other than the additional material at the end (sections 19–22). Geiger 2008: 43 n. 60 also argues that the perfect tenses mean little: “surely the references to the achievements of a man long retired and in his mid or late seventies could be referred to as final” (compare Toher 2002: 146). Toher 2002: 143–44 argues that no changes were necessary, because there only ever was one published edition of the Atticus. 83. It is true that Nepos is critical of Phocion in the bulk of the Life (chaps. 2–4), so perhaps the weight of his claim at Timoth. 4.4 falls on Phocion's worth (dignus memoria), but the praise of the first chapter of the Phocion neutralizes that potential argument. 84. The arguments of such important studies as, e.g., Dionisotti 1988 and Anselm 2004 are not affected if the theory of the second edition of On Foreign Generals is denied. 85. On the events around the Actium campaign, see Syme 1939: 276–312; Pelling 1996: 36–67; Osgood 2006: 368–90. 86. Jenkinson wrote the chapter on Nepos for T. A. Dorey's Latin Biography in 1967 and expanded it for a survey article in ANRW in 1973. I will here work primarily from the later, larger version. 87. The still standard scholarly commentary on the entire corpus of Nepos, in German, is Nipperdey and Witte 1913. In its eleventh edition in 1913, it was first published by Karl Nipperdey in 1849 and then significantly revised for a second edition by Bernhard Lupus in 1879. Hence, even in its currently reprinted form, it remains a nineteenth-century commentary. In French, there is Monginot 1882 (in its second edition). No scholarly commentary on the whole corpus exists in English. 88. Horsfall's view in 1982: 290–92 is moderated somewhat, though still strongly asserted, in Horsfall 1989: v–vi, xv–xxi. The Atticus, at least, has come to impress him: “lack of scholarly interest [in the Atticus] seems hard to justify and close study has greatly increased my respect for [Nepos] since my survey in 1982” (1989: 8). Moles 1992 is a sharp review of Horsfall 1989, noting what he finds to be weaknesses in Horsfall's approach, while also stressing how valuable the commentary can be and how much it helps the reader to understand many aspects of Nepos' work. I agree with both judgments (so also Titchener 2003: 92 n. 20), and my frequent criticism of Horsfall's treatment of Nepos in this book is the result of my respect for his scholarship being overcome by my disagreement with his conclusions. Between Horsfall's assessments in 1982 and 1989, Geiger 1985b, Millar 1988, and Dionisotti 1988 offered significant new directions for the study of Nepos, and I explore those directions in chapters 3 and 4 of the present study. 89. Whereas Gratwick 2002: 316 n. 50 responds to Horsfall merely by quoting Catullus 22.21 (sed non videmus manticae quod in tergo est), Titchener 2003: 92–98 offers a direct critique of Horsfall's position, now further contextualized by Pryzwansky 2009. My discussion advances theirs by focusing on Horsfall's claims about Nepos' inaccuracy and misrepresentation in his use of historical evidence. 90. Jenkinson 1973: 703–4 (quote from 704); Horsfall 1982: 290; OCD3 1996: 396. 91. The entry on Nepos was revised for the third edition of the OCD by Antony Spawforth (hence he added Horsfall's “intellectual pygmy”), but he did not elect to reconsider the sentence I here quote, which was written for the first edition of the OCD (1949: 236) by John C. Rolfe (the editor of the Loeb edition of Nepos). Further evidence for Spawforth's acceptance of Horsfall's depiction of Nepos can be seen in the way that he revised a subsequent sentence describing Nepos' relationships with his contemporaries. In Rolfe's entry for the first edition (1949: 236), Nepos “was intimate with Cicero, with whom he exchanged letters, and with Pomponius Atticus after 65. Catullus dedicated his book to N. in eulogistic verses.” Gavin Townend's revision for the second edition (1970: 728) changed little, altering “intimate” to “familiar” and deleting “after 65.” But Spawforth writes (1996: 396): “he corresponded with Cicero and considered Atticus a friend; Catullus dedicated verses to him.” The reference to eulogistic verses has been deleted, and no credibility is given to the idea that Nepos actually was friends with Cicero or Atticus; it is only allowed that he corresponded with the former and considered the latter a friend. 92. In a similar vein, Conte 1994: 223, who is generally fair to Nepos and calls him a “mediocre writer,” points out that for “breadth of intellectual horizons Nepos cannot be compared to Varro or Cicero.” Such a claim is fair enough, but it is not much of a criticism, since the intellectual horizons of Cicero and Varro were so exceptionally broad that one cannot expect many of their contemporaries to have been their equal. 93. On Varro's lack of style, see Quint. 10.1.95; Augustine, City of God 6.2. Horsfall 1982: 287 is much kinder about Varro's style: “Varro lacks the massive elegance of Cicero because he never sought it.” See

Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 19–22 for the style of Suetonius, which he unapologetically terms “the businesslike style of the ancient scholar” (19). For the connection between the style and the purpose of Valerius Maximus, see Bloomer 1992: 230–59. 94. The most extensive study of Nepos' style is Lupus 1876. Anselm 2004 carefully demonstrates for each of the Lives Nepos' skills at structure and emphasis. Albrecht 1997: 483 comments that “Nepos knows how to tell a good anecdote. He is able to make the point in the right place, to avoid distracting detail and to emphasize the essentials.” 95. Horsfall 1989: xviii. Compare also Rolfe 1929: 360–61 (= Rolfe 1984: xii–xiii): Nepos “occasionally attempts long periods, but is obviously not at home in them.” For a defense of Nepos' style in response to Horsfall, see Moles 1992, 1993b; Titchener 2003: 90–91. 96. Compare Jenkinson 1973: 715 to 717, and note how she indulges in between (716) in a comparison of Nepos to Livy: “In [Alcib. 1.2–4] Nepos stands comparison with Livy in his character sketch of Hannibal, but he cannot sustain the level.” 97. Rawson 1985: 49 (see also 231). Albrecht 1997: 486 notes “the stern verdict of German scholarship.” 98. See, e.g., Rolfe 1929: 372, 376, 381, 384, 386 (= Rolfe 1984: 6, 10, 15, 18, 20). Rolfe's notes are often drawn from the German commentary of Nipperdey and Witte 1913. Unger 1882: 146–51 compiles a list of Nepos' mistakes. See also Jenkinson 1967: 10, 1973: 713–14. 99. Horsfall 1982: 292 (note also 1989: xviii). 100. The best study on Nepos' sources to date (note Geiger 1985b: 56–58, 108) is J. R. Bradley 1991 (largely researched as a dissertation completed in 1967). Bradley closely compares nine of Nepos' Lives against the evidence found elsewhere in the historical tradition. He concludes that Nepos worked primarily from large-scale historians (e.g., Ephorus), as well as from particular sources relevant to an individual (e.g., Xenophon's Agesilaus or Thucydides for the Themistocles and the Pausanias). Bradley's study of nine representative Lives is admittedly incomplete, however, and an examination of all twenty-two would be necessary to offer a complete appraisal of Nepos' method and accuracy in his handling of evidence. See further Tuplin 2000: 144–45; Titchener 2003: 88–90. 101. Thucydides: Them. 1.4, 9.1, 10.4; Paus. 2.2; Alcib. 11.1. Theopompus: Alcib. 11.1; Iphic. 3.2. Dinon: Conon 5.4. Polybius: Hann. 13.1. See further J. R. Bradley 1991: 3–7. 102. For Cicero on Herodotus, see ad fam. 5.12.7; De Orat. 2.55; Leg. 1.5 (Pater Historiae); Orat. 39, 186, 219; Fin. 2.87; Div. 1.121, 2.116; Off. 2.41. 103. Wells 1923: 112–24, e.g., ignores Nepos except for one place where Nepos is said to have poorly “invented” a detail in accordance with his understanding of Herodotus (120). Burn 1984: 133–34 n. 14 judges Nepos' Miltiades to be “such a muddle” that he feels “very strongly that if Nepos is right it is only by accident.” Lazenby 1993: vii, following Hignett 1963: 3–25, decries “the folly of rejecting Herodotus in favour of secondary and inferior sources.” Krentz 2010: 12–16 concludes, “Herodotus always trumps a later writer.” 104. Scott 2005: 76, 164, for example, argues that the error goes all the way back to the fifth century and was reflected in Ephorus, whence Nepos drew it. 105. Jenkinson 1967: 10. Perhaps this attitude is changing, however. Marr 1998: 6 declares that the “historical value [of Nepos' Themistocles], despite some inaccuracies, is not negligible” (compare Gomme 1945: 51). Buckler 1980: 274–75 offers a fair estimation, noting how Nepos' biographical interests lead to varying degrees of historicity in his biographies of fourth-century Greek figures, but concluding that his accounts are “usually accurate, despite some errors in detail…. For the most part, Nepos is valuable for the occasional detail that complements the other sources for the period.” 106. See further Gomme 1945: 286–88; Green 2006: 125–27. Yet note that Stylianou 1998: 133 and 136 does feel the confidence to blame Diodorus for his confusion on this point. Nepos' larger chronology of Cimon's activities also conflicts with that of Thucydides (as does Diodorus'). The preceding event in Nepos' Cimon is his success at the Strymon River, which corresponds to Thuc. 1.98.1, but Thucydides puts Cimon's colonizing of Scyros right after his victory at the Strymon (1.98.2), whereas Nepos describes Cimon on Scyros after the battle he places at Mycale. Sorting out mid-fifth century chronology is very thorny (see, e.g., Gomme 1945: 389–413; Badian 1993a: 73–107), and confusion about chronology likely contributes to the confusion about geography found in Nepos and Diodorus. 107. Xen., Ages. 2.1: ; Nepos,

Ages. 4.4: quod iter Xerxes anno vertente confecerat, hic transierit triginta diebus. 108. For Nepos' sources in the Agesilaus, see J. R. Bradley 1991: 121–36; Tuplin 2000: 145. See also the final section of chapter 5 in the present study. 109. So Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 168, followed by Rolfe 1929: 570 (= Rolfe 1984: 204) and J. R. Bradley 1991: 136 n. 23. Spartan king lists can be conveniently found at Cartledge 1987: 101 (see further 99–103) and Talbert 2005: 212–14. 110. Herodotus 6.52 is our best source for this knowledge, but Nepos nowhere acknowledges Herodotus, so he may have found it elsewhere, perhaps while researching for the Chronica, into which the Spartan king lists naturally would have been incorporated. 111. Rolfe 1929: 376–77 (= Rolfe 1984: 10–11), also noted by Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 36 (“unrichtig”), and followed by Horsfall 1982: 292. 112. See Marshall fr. 15–25. The geographer Pomponius Mela is Marshall's preferred source for fr. 15–16, but Marshall also includes Pliny's citations of similar information. Nepos' geographical knowledge is often dismissed (e.g., Horsfall 1982: 290; Rawson 1985: 263–64; Romer 1998: 114 n. 24) because of Pliny's criticism that Nepos “too eagerly believed” (avidissime credidit, NH 5.4 = Marshall fr. 22) in the wonders of the African city of Lixus. Geiger 1985b: 77 rightly counters that Pliny's Natural History is itself a “storehouse of absurdities and exaggerations.” Pliny also disputes Nepos' explanation for the naming of Istria at NH 3.127 (= Marshall fr. 19). But Pliny is elsewhere respectful of Nepos' information, and the two critical references to Nepos should not outweigh the other nine (so also Titchener 2003: 96). 113. It is striking that Rolfe himself did not do so in this case, for in a note explaining the phrase reliquam phalangem at Chabrias 1.2 (1929: 496–97 = 1984: 130–31), he cites an article of his—on the use of alius with the sense “besides”—that includes as a comparandum (1928: 62) the sense of ceteri in Suet., Iul. 4.2: comites servosque ceteros…dimiserat, “he had sent off his traveling companions and his other (attendants besides, namely his) slaves.” Vaughan 1942: 17–18 provides additional examples of ceteri in what he calls its “non-partitive” sense, which he defines as when it “is used to indicate that the thing which it modifies is something in addition to what has already been mentioned and is only like that thing, but not part of it.” The Cyclades, e.g., are islands like Lemnos, but Lemnos is not itself part of the Cyclades. 114. Note Cox 1983: 5: “To impugn the integrity of a Graeco-Roman biography on the basis of factual discrepancy is to misconceive the literary tradition of the genre to which it belongs.” 115. Jenkinson 1973: 709 presents biography as “allied to history, though on a lower plane.” Syme 1958b: 501–3 espouses the same view; for the rationale, see Momigliano 1971: 1–6; Mellor 1999: 132; Duff 1999: 5–9. Geiger 1985b: 9–29 and Titchener 2003 rebut such a view for Nepos, as does Wallace-Hadrill 1983 (esp. 8–25) for Suetonius, Duff 1999 (esp. 13–51) and Pelling 2002 for Plutarch, and Cox 1983 for biography in late antiquity. See further Kraus 2005b: 252–55 (history, biography, and autobiography are genera proxima); McGing and Mossman 2006: x–xii (“perhaps…biography must inevitably define itself against history just as comedy must define itself against tragedy”); Stadter 2007 (historiography and biography frequently overlap); Pryzwansky 2009 (esp. 99: biographers are not failed historians). Moles 1988: 32–46 is valuable for its specific evaluation of the role of truth in Plutarch's Cicero against the general practices of ancient biography and historiography. 116. Horsfall 1982: 292. Guillemin 1970: 136 n. 1 comments that the account pales in comparison to Livy's, while McCarty 1974: 389–90 faults the biography for its lack of objectivity. 117. For discussion of these problems and the integration of the two accounts, see Lazenby 1998: 34–48; Yardley-Hoyos 2006: 620–30; Levene 2010: 126–55. 118. Polybius (3.60.5) claims that Hannibal lost nearly half his force in the crossing, on which number, however, compare Walbank 1957–79: 1.395 and Lazenby 1998: 48. 119. For a study of the method, see Bosworth 2003. It is important to stress that in On Foreign Generals, Nepos is a derivative compiler of earlier accounts. Hence his need or desire to invent is very different from, say, the earliest historians of Rome, whose credibility in specific details there are good reasons to suspect: see further Wiseman 1979: 9–53; Oakley 1997–2005: 1.3–102. 120. For Appian's methods and purposes, see Gowing 1992; Bucher 2000, 2007; Gowing 2009. 121. At Syrian Wars 40, where Appian is relating a discussion between Scipio and Hannibal about the greatest generals in history, Hannibal explains why he places himself third: “for when I was still young I conquered Spain and was the first after Heracles to cross over the Alps and into Italy with an army” ( ). Hence the

Herculean precedent invoked in Nepos also surfaces in Appian (as it also does in Silius Italicus, Punica 3.496, 513–15). When Livy 35.14.5–12 relates this discussion between Scipio and Hannibal, he claims that he is following Claudius Quadrigarius, who, in turn, said that he was following C. Acilius, but Livy's version does not include any reference to the Alps' crossing. 122. Hann. 1.1: non est infitiandum Hannibalem tanto praestitisse ceteros imperatores prudentia, quanto populus Romanus antecedat fortitudine cunctas nationes. For the Hannibal overall, see further Ruch 1968: 35–58 (who is indebted to Monginot 1882: 280–301). 123. Lazenby 1998: 48 emphasizes that Hannibal's crossing “still remains one of the greatest feats in the history of warfare.” 124. Livy 21.36.1: Ventum deinde ad multo angustiorem rupem atque ita rectis saxis ut aegre expeditus miles temptabundus manibusque retinens virgulta ac stirpes circa eminentes demittere sese posset. Polybius (3.54.7–55.9) more plausibly reports the gap as one thousand horizontal feet along the edge of cliff, whereas Livy presents the gap as one thousand vertical feet. Polybius says nothing about how an individual soldier could inch along the gap with difficulty, so it looks like Nepos' source was closer to Livy's. Yet note Levene 2010: 136–47, who convincingly argues that Polybius is at least among Livy's sources here, if not his guiding source. 125. As noted by Skidmore 1996: 10, “selection of material on the criterion of its value as examples is also a form of distortion of facts.” See further Geiger 1985b: 15–25 and note his conclusion (25): the “subject matter [of political biography] is not, by and large, different from that of history: it is in the choice and disposition of the material and the relative importance of its components that the two differ, as well as in narrative technique and form.” Shipley 1997: v–vii thoughtfully contextualizes the historiographical work of the political biographer: “The biographer's presentation of moral values is given coherence and focus by selection and creative manipulation: a rhetorical representation, not the reality, and therefore in a sense a false image, though intended not to deceive but to portray what he believes to be the truth, where the plain factual account, only ‘what happened,’ can have no moral content.” 126. Jenkinson 1967: 6; Horsfall 1982: 292, 1989: xviii. There is a different but equally damning characterization at Frost 1980: 39: Nepos' “confusion at the profuse and contradictory elements [of the historical tradition regarding Themistocles] is evident,” and his “relief at being able to quote Thucydides is equally apparent.” 127. J. R. Bradley 1991: 11 comments that “it is consistent with [Nepos'] biographical technique to have employed the Greek historian's concluding summary of Themistocles' character as the starting point for his life.” Cicero also admired the Thucydidean passage, which he quotes in a letter to Atticus (10.8 [SB 199].7) and alludes to at De Orat. 2.299 and 3.59 and at Brut. 28 (noted by White 2010: 211 n. 21). 128. See further J. R. Bradley 1991: 9–40, who establishes that Thuc. 1.136–38 functions as the direct source for almost all of Them. 8.3–10.5 (Thucydides is again named as a source twice in Them. 10.4–5, which closely follow 1.138.4 and 6). Bradley also concludes that Ephorus (as visible in Diodorus and Justin) is the Life's other major source (though Green 2006: 25–29 and 34–38 points out that the assumption that book 11 of Diodorus is effectively Ephorus is too simple, while Stylianou 1998: 49–139 studies Diodorus' method of employing his narrative sources and argues for the extensive direct use of Ephorus for Greek history in books 11–15). Another possibility, if Diodorus' history was completed in the late thirties BCE, as Green 2006: 2–7 argues (see also Stylianou 1998: 17–25), is that Nepos read Diodorus directly. 129. These criteria also seem to be Atticus', for in the Brutus, Cicero has Atticus laughingly (ridens, 41) “correct” him about Themistocles' alleged suicide, in language that is close to Nepos' in Them. 9.1. Feeney 2007: 27 reads this sequence in the Brutus as Cicero's dramatization of his new respect for chronological study. Atticus declares (Brut. 43) that Clitarchus and Stratocles relate that Themistocles killed himself with poisonous bull's blood, but Thucydides reports that he died a natural death, though with the suspicion that he had consciously killed himself (for the tradition behind this split evidence, see Marr 1995). The crucial point for our purposes is the reason why Atticus urges Cicero in the Brutus to follow Thucydides: “he was an Athenian and born from the highest stock and a very great man and only a little later in time” (et Atheniensis erat et summo loco natus summusque vir et paulo aetate posterior, 43). This emphasis on shared citizenship and near contemporaneity is also Nepos' point at Them. 9.1, suggesting that Nepos learned of the superiority of Thucydides' evidence from his friend Atticus or perhaps even from his reading of the Brutus (see further Geiger 1985b: 91–92; Horsfall 1989: 124; Tuplin 2000: 144). Whatever the

reason, Nepos, Them. 10.4, explicitly follows Thuc. 1.138.4. 130. Compare Plut., Them. 28.2–4, which begins rather similarly to Thucydides (and Nepos). See further Gomme 1945: 440; Marr 1998: 151–52. Diodorus 11.56.5–8, by contrast, represents a different tradition. 131. For such an emphasis on the public leader over the individual elsewhere in Nepos, see Dionisotti 1988: 41–44. 132. For this understanding of Thucydides' phrase and how it relates to Herodotus 8.75 and 8.110, see Gomme 1945: 440–41. 133. On the strength of the similar depiction at Diodorus 11.19.5–6, J. R. Bradley 1991: 19–20 surmises that Ephorus is Nepos' source at 5.1–3. Hence at 9.1, where Nepos explains why he prefers Thucydides, Bradley (29) argues that “it may be taken as an express rejection of Ephorus.” 134. The choice of the passive pons dissolveretur (“the bridge was being broken up”) dissolves, by omission, the Thucydidean charge that Themistocles' claim of personal responsibility for the destruction of the bridge was false. 135. The historian might protest that Greece was not liberated until the land victory at Plataea the year after Salamis. But Nepos seems to disagree. He discusses Plataea almost in passing in Paus. 1, while here, at Them. 5.3, he judges Salamis the equal of Marathon (note Milt. 5.5–6.3). 136. See Jenkinson 1967: 6, 1973: 713. The same alleged mistake is also noted at Rolfe 1929: 404 (= 1984: 38) and Guillemin 1970: 22 n. 1. Mellor 1999: 141 presumably also refers to this passage when he mentions, without a specific reference, “a gross mistranslation from a Greek source.” J. R. Bradley 1991: 30 more aptly explains the difference as “typical” of Nepos' “rhetorical amplitude.” See also Dionisotti 1988: 43–44 on Nepos, Paus. 1.3–4, and Thuc. 1.132. 137. This consideration results from the very reason why Nepos claims the need to cite Thucydides for this moment in Themistocles' life, namely, the assertion that when Themistocles went to Persia, he met with Artaxerxes and not Xerxes (Them. 9.1): “I know that the majority have written it such that Themistocles crossed to Asia while Xerxes was king. But I believe Thucydides above all,…[who] says that Themistocles went to Artaxerxes.” Plut., Them. 27.1–2, more precisely describes the division of opinion, on which see Frost 1980: 213–15. For the chronological problems, see Gomme 1945: 397–99; Green 2006: 119–20. 138. Such rhetorical improvement is just what we find Livy, e.g., doing with Claudius Quadrigarius (see 7.9.6–10.14, with Oakley 1997–2005: 2.113–23) or what Cicero says Caesar scared everybody away from doing with his Commentaries (Brut. 262). See Moles 1988: 27 for the argument that source criticism “must involve literary criticism,” and see Russell 1979 for an introduction to the literary principles involved. Levene 2010: 82–163 extends to historiography the study of allusions and intertexts familiar to poetry, and he valuably develops a model in which a historical author's source can also be his intertext. 139. Starting from Gomme 1945: 54–84, see Frost 1980: 55–59; Stadter 1984; Duff 2010. Yet note Tröster 2008: 14–17, who rightfully points out that historical analysis of the events of Plutarch's Lives is indeed among his interests: “political and military aspects frequently constitute the essential focus of Plutarch's characterization” (14). Plutarch also deserves some credit, as Badian 2003 demonstrates regarding the Alexander, for demonstrating historical judgment when working with his sources. As Shipley 1997: 5 recognizes, “Plutarch judged himself no historian—largely for rhetorical reasons—yet one may argue that he incorporates some of the more important elements of a modern work of history, such as taking a critical and independent approach to the sources and arguing an original thesis.” I would not want to claim that Nepos is as capable or as perceptive as Plutarch, but on a more modest scale, Nepos is doing the same thing.

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CHAPTER 2 Nepos among His Contemporaries Catullus was not the only contemporary writer with whom Nepos is known to have interacted. In fact, considerably more evidence exists for his relationships with Atticus and Cicero. As with Nepos' corpus overall, none of this evidence is new. Yet a synoptic reading of all of it has not been undertaken, hence its quantity and value have been underappreciated. The purpose of this chapter is therefore to position Nepos among his literary contemporaries, with two goals in mind. The first is to better articulate the individual relationships he had with each of them, while the second and more significant is to demonstrate how his corpus deserves to be considered alongside theirs for its corroborating expression of social and political attitudes.

Nepos and Atticus Titus Pomponius Atticus is now likely best remembered for his friendship with Cicero, especially as attested in Cicero's letters to him, but another of Atticus' many friends was Nepos, who wrote a biography of Atticus for his book On Latin Historians. Nepos all but eulogizes his subject and does not conceal his personal acquaintance with him: “I was often involved in his household affairs on account of our personal familiarity” (saepe enim propter familiaritatem domesticis rebus interfuimus, Att. 13.7). Many details in the biography support this claim of closeness between the two men, and its value as a historical source is universally recognized.1 Hence the evidence for the relationship between Nepos and Atticus is very different from that for the Page 56 → relationship between Nepos and Catullus; here we are on firmer interpretive ground.2 Throughout the Atticus, Nepos characterizes his subject much more widely than is necessary to understand him as a historian: he is a man of personal virtue, of humane letters, of faithful friendship, and of political neutrality.3 These themes often overlap and intermingle, and through their presentation, the Atticus is often suggestive of its author's attitudes, including a perceptible political edge. When Nepos expands the Life in its second edition, for example, the only topic he adds—excluding the necessary description of the manner of Atticus' death from natural causes (21–22)4—is the nature of Atticus' relations with the triumvirs Octavian and Antony (19–20). Nepos returns to the topic of the marriage of Agrippa and Atticus' daughter, for example, because that marriage produced a daughter, Vipsania, whom Octavian betrothed to his stepson (and, though no one yet knew it, his successor) Tiberius Claudius Nero (19.4).5 Nepos introduces this development by recapitulating Atticus' winning qualities and then explaining the significance of Octavian's position at the time (Att. 19.2–3): hic contentus ordine equestri, quo erat ortus, in adfinitatem pervenit imperatoris Divi filii, cum iam ante familiaritatem eius esset consecutus nulla alia re quam elegantia vitae, qua ceteros ceperat principes civitatis dignitate pari, fortuna humiliores. tanta enim prosperitas Caesarem est consecuta, ut nihil ei non tribuerit fortuna, quod cuiquam ante detulerit, et conciliarit, quod nemo adhuc civis Romanus quivit consequi. [This man [Atticus], although content with the equestrian rank with which he was born, ended up in a relationship by marriage with Imperator Page 57 → [Caesar], son of the deified [Julius], whose friendship he had earlier obtained by nothing other than the refinement of his life, with which he had won over the other leading men of the state, men of equal worth but more modest fortune: for such great prosperity befell Caesar that fortune granted him everything that it had bestowed upon anyone before, and procured for him what no Roman citizen up to that time had been able to obtain.] On this reckoning, Atticus always remained himself, defined by his refinement, yet Octavian was swept up by fortune to obtain everything possible. For Atticus, the pattern is already familiar from the first edition: refined living leads to friendships with powerful men that eventually pay dividends without any undue investment on Atticus' part (see, e.g., Att. 4.1–2, 5.1–2, 7.1–3, 9.1–10.5, 12.1–2).6 Nepos presents it as simply in keeping with

Atticus' character that he earned his due reward: “thus did this man make it seem that the adage was truly spoken: ‘each man's mores fashion his fortune’” (itaque hic fecit ut vere dictum videatur: sui cuique mores fingunt fortunam hominibus, Att. 11.6). But for Octavian, the advantage is luck, a different kind of fortune. His worth (dignitas) was no greater than the other leading men of the state—men who were also Atticus' friends—but they were humbler in fortune, for prosperity pursued only him. For all of Octavian's prosperity, however, Nepos characterizes him as the more eager partner in his friendship with Atticus. He was, says Nepos (20.1–2), constantly sending letters to Atticus, both when he was abroad and when he was in Rome but too busy to see him as often as he would like, consulting him virtually daily about literary and antiquarian matters, “sometimes even jokingly eliciting longer letters from him” (interdum iocans eius verbosiores eliceret epistulas, 20.2). Given Octavian's responsibilities throughout the thirties, it is striking to imagine him devoting his time to devising ways to rouse the genteel Atticus into paying him more attention through a longer letter.7 Page 58 → It is even more significant that Octavian's rival Mark Antony was doing exactly the same thing (20.4–5): neque vero a M. Antonio minus absens litteris colebatur, adeo ut accurate ille ex ultumis terris, quid ageret, curae sibi haberet certiorem facere Atticum. [No less, indeed, was [Atticus], in his absence, being cultivated in letters from Mark Antony, to the point that he made it a priority for himself to inform Atticus accurately, even from the ends of the earth, about what he was doing.] The attentions of Atticus were being cultivated by both of the most powerful men in the Roman world, men who were publicly attacking one another and spiraling toward civil war, and yet Atticus did not choose one over the other. He stayed above the fray, while retaining his own integrity and the approbation of both parties. The wisdom of this positioning impresses Nepos so strongly that he then pauses to laud it (20.5): hoc quale sit, facilius existimabit is, qui iudicare poterit, quantae sit sapientiae eorum retinere usum benivolentiamque, inter quos maximarum rerum non solum aemulatio, sed etiam obtrectatio tanta intercedebat, quantam fuit incidere necesse inter Caesarem atque Antonium, cum se uterque principem non solum urbis Romae, sed orbis terrarum esse cuperet. [What sort of an achievement this is will be more easily considered by someone who can judge how much wisdom it takes to retain the familiarity and goodwill of men between whom there existed not only a rivalry over the greatest things but also as much animosity as was necessarily going to develop between Caesar and Antony, since each desired that he be the first man not just of the city of Rome but of the whole world.] Coming as it does in Nepos' own voice, this judgment is likely as revealing of Nepos' perspective as of Atticus': the civil war was a contest over nothing Page 59 → less than who would be the first man (princeps) over the world, and the wise thing was to retain goodwill on all sides. The proper way to weather such a political storm was in comfortable retirement, providing answers to epistolary appeals from powerful men on matters of literary and antiquarian interest. Nepos is not known to have had the network of powerful connections that Atticus did, but otherwise the approbation in which Nepos bathes his friend suggests that he found in the Atticus a means to define an exemplary life of learning that resonates with his own.8 “In politics,” reports Nepos, Atticus “took part such that he always both was and was thought to be among the party of the optimates, but he did not commit himself to the billows of public life” (in re publica ita est versatus, ut semper optimarum partium et esset et existimaretur, neque tamen se civili-bus fluctibus committeret, Att. 6.1).9 Like Atticus, Nepos was an equestrian who never, to our knowledge, held any elected office or publicly involved himself in the tumultuous politics of his lifetime.10 The way that he casts his survival of Atticus as the wish of fortune (Att. 19.1) suggests that he was of a similar age, born perhaps in the last decade of the second century BCE. Atticus died at the age of seventy-seven in March of 32, while Nepos died, Pliny tells us, “in the principate

of the Divine Augustus,” that is, after 27.11 From a passage in Jerome, we learn that Nepos claimed to have been present when Cicero delivered his Pro Cornelio in 65 BCE; hence we can surmise that his work as an author and researcher had brought him to Rome by that time.12 We know nothing of Nepos' earlier life and not much more of his later life.13 Somewhere along the way, he encouraged Catullus and, in the Page 60 → midfifties, would have received a charming libellus from him.14 The narrative of the Atticus is most detailed on the late forties, so perhaps Nepos was close by Atticus during those years.15 The meager biographical data suggest a scholar's life, devoted to reading and writing and intertwined with other such readers and writers. Nepos seems to have produced many more volumes than Atticus, but Atticus also devoted considerable time attending to his friends' financial matters (Att. 15.2–3), and much of his historical work detailing the lineage of several of Rome's great families came at the request of (rogatu, Att. 18.3) his friends in those families. Nepos speaks of these family histories quite warmly, and one senses that he willingly grants to his friend's work the reception he sought for his own: “Nothing can be sweeter than these books to those who have some desire for the knowledge of great men” (quibus libris nihil potest esse dulcius iis, qui aliquam cupiditatem habent notitiae clarorum virorum, Att. 18.4).16 In sum, the example of Atticus—as a chronological researcher, as a student of great men, as a quietist in politics—provides our most revealing perspective from which to estimate Nepos' literary and political position at the close of the Roman Republic. When no direct evidence exists for any involvement of Nepos in public life, for example, several hints from the Atticus confirm this silence. Nepos praises Atticus for his neutrality between Octavian and Antony (Att. 20), and he characterizes the politics of the late Republic as too corrupting for Atticus to wish to participate directly (6.2). Atticus' neutrality does not mean that he was apolitical, however, for Nepos' presentation of his optimate attitudes (6.1) is confirmed in Cicero's letters to him.17 In fact, Nepos openly declares Atticus to have been a good citizen Page 61 → (bonus…civis, 13.1), even as the question of how to be a good Roman took on extraordinary complexity during the civil wars of the final two decades of Atticus' life. Nepos thus endorses Atticus' choices as honorable, and he structures the biography to ground those choices in other demonstrable moral virtues. The explanation for why Atticus chose not to pursue a traditional public career (6) is followed by a narrative that documents his principles in practice (7–12), and that narrative develops into an explicit thematic enumeration of Atticus' virtues (13–18).18 Although the purpose of the biographer is to demonstrate how the life of his subject demonstrates the virtues of his character,19 the manner in which Nepos depicts Atticus tempts one to believe that he was personally sympathetic to Atticus' decision not to pursue a senatorial career and to comment only indirectly on political affairs while spending his time in reading and research.20 Nepos' own life seems to have followed the same model, though likely on a smaller scale, with less wealth and less influence.

Nepos and Cicero Nepos' friendship with Atticus leads naturally to the topic of Nepos' relationship with Atticus' great friend Cicero. The texture of this relationship, in my view, has often been mischaracterized, despite the considerable scattered evidence that exists to define it. Hence I will here survey that evidence rather fully before I contextualize my understanding of the relationship Nepos had with Cicero against those he had with Atticus and Catullus. It is plausible but not demonstrable that Nepos' friendship with Atticus led to an introduction to Cicero, just as it appears that the friendship of Atticus and Cicero was the model on which Nepos developed his own relationship with the orator. In the extant correspondence of Cicero to Atticus, for example, we often see them debating matters of politics by evaluating the actors and their actions, and there is evidence that Cicero and Nepos corresponded in a similar, though more limited, fashion. A reference in Macrobius attests a collection of letters Page 62 → from Cicero to Nepos in at least two books, and Suetonius, Ammianus Marcellinus, Lactantius, and Priscian also refer to letters between the two men.21 Two of the quotations excerpted from letters of Cicero to Nepos specifically refer to Julius Caesar and seem to date to the period after his death. The first is a passage quoted by Suetonius in which Cicero praises Caesar as an orator (Iul. 55.2):22 quid? oratorem quem huic antepones eorum qui nihil aliud egerunt? quis sententiis aut acutior aut crebrior? quis verbis aut ornatior aut elegantior?

[Well? Which orator would you rank before him, even out of all those who have pursued nothing else? Who was sharper or more frequent in his quips? Who was more ornate or more elegant in his language?] The emphasis on ranking and comparison in this passage is suggestive, given what we know about the comparative structure of Nepos' On Famous Men. Caesar's conquest of Gaul would seem to have necessitated that Nepos include him in On Roman Generals, but perhaps Cicero was recommending he would be better remembered as an orator.23 The more significant point, however, is the fact that Nepos chose to engage with such a critic of Caesar as Cicero when evaluating Caesar's legacy. On Caesar as an orator, Cicero could clearly be quite favorable.24 But on Caesar as a politician, a quotation in Ammianus Marcellinus preserves a very different part of the conversation between Cicero and Nepos. Ammianus asserts that the emperor Constantius II had sullied his legacy by his use of Page 63 → violence to vindicate his claim to power,25 and he then invokes Cicero's authority (21.16.13): Ut Tullius quoque docet, crudelitatis increpans Caesarem, in quadam ad Nepotem epistula: “neque enim quicquam aliud est felicitas,” inquit, “nisi honestarum rerum prosperitas; vel, ut alio modo definiam, felicitas est fortuna adiutrix consiliorum bonorum, quibus qui non utitur felix esse nullo pacto potest. ergo in perditis impiisque consiliis quibus Caesar usus est nulla potuit esse felicitas; feliciorque meo iudicio Camillus exsulans quam temporibus isdem Manlius, etiam si, id quod cupierat, regnare potuisset.” [Tullius makes the same point in a letter to Nepos when reproaching Caesar with cruelty: “For happiness is nothing else,” he says, “except the prosperity of honorable things, or, to put it another way, happiness is fortune being the aid of good designs. The man who does not engage in such designs can in no way be happy. In the wretched and profligate designs in which Caesar engaged, therefore, there could be no happiness; Camillus in exile was happier, in my judgment, than Manlius at the same moment, even if he could have, as he wished to do, become king.”] Cicero's tone suggests serious engagement and perhaps dissent.26 He is advocating that a man's happiness should not be regarded as a corollary to his historical success. What needs to be judged, in his view, is not ultimate success or power but the merit of the man's designs (consilia). If they are honorable and good (honesta, bona), then he should be regarded as honorable and good. If fortune aids him, then he may also find success (prosperitas) and even happiness (felicitas).27 But one should not devalue a man's legacy if fortune Page 64 → does not happen to favor him, just as one should condemn a wicked man (e.g., Caesar) as unhappy even if materially successful. This model of happiness and historical judgment thus develops out of the interaction of character, deeds, and fortune. Respectable character is visible in designs honorably pursued, and base character is seen in the opposite. Happiness requires favorable fortune, and so virtue is not sufficient for happiness, yet virtue is necessary for happiness, since those who pursue wicked designs have no chance of being happy. Politics must be judged on ethical grounds more than on results, since fortune plays an unpredictable role in historical success. For Cicero (and Ammianus), Caesar (and Constantius II) acquired great power, but their ability to retain it was neither honorable nor happy. Such a model of historical judgment is highly relevant to the writing of political biography, and Cicero's articulation of it to Nepos suggests that their conversation about Caesar's legacy was symptomatic of larger ideas about the methods and purposes of historical writing. Political biography looks to judge a man by the legacy of his character as manifested in his deeds, and it is to be distinguished from narrative history primarily for its emphasis on character more than deeds. Thus the biographer needs a means to judge his subject independently of the shape of the narrative, for outcomes alone do not always properly demonstrate the nature of the characters involved. Cicero is here suggesting that the crucial criterion should be the propriety of the subject's designs, not his success in achieving them, for the favor of fortune is independent of human qualities of character. But this suggestion puts the onus of ethical and moral judgment onto the biographer, and so it leads to the next issue: how is the biographer to establish and defend the ethical standards employed?

One possible answer would be to adopt a perspective explicitly grounded in moral philosophy. Given Cicero's emphasis on happiness (felicitas) as the standard of judgment in this excerpt, perhaps this is the answer he was advocating to Nepos. Cicero was himself busy writing On Duties in the months after Caesar's assassination, and within that treatise, he further develops the philosophy behind his politics in those months.28 But if the philosophical approach was the one he urged on Nepos, it seems likely to have been rejected. In the only extant fragment of a letter from Nepos to Cicero, Lactantius quotes Nepos for why he found philosophers to be hypocritical teachers of ethics (Div. Inst. 3.15.10 = Marshall fr. 39): Page 65 → Tantum abest ut ego magistram putem esse vitae philosophiam beateque vitae perfectricem, ut nullis magis existimem opus esse magistros vivendi quam plerisque qui in ea disputanda versantur. video enim magnam partem eorum, qui in schola de pudore continentia praecipiant argutissime, eosdem in omnium libidinum cupiditatibus vivere. [I am so far from thinking that philosophy is the instructor of life—and what happily completes it—that I consider that no one needs instructors for living more than several of those who are engaged in discussing it. For I observe that a great many of those who offer the most acute instructions about restraint and self-control in the schools are the very same men who live in the throes of all forms of desire.] Philosophy, for Nepos, cannot be the “instructor of life” (magistram vitae), because its instructors do not practice what they teach and need teachers of their own. As one might expect from a biographer, Nepos is interested in how a person lives more than what he professes to uphold. He finds practice more persuasive than theory. So, for example, Nepos praises Atticus for never having quarreled with his family, since he deemed it wrong to be angry with those he ought to love (quos amare deberet, irasci eis nefas duceret, Att. 17.2). On what ethical grounds did Atticus judge it to be wrong (nefas)? Nepos' explanation (17.3) acknowledges the value of philosophical learning, but only when directed to practical use: neque id fecit natura solum, quamquam omnes ei paremus, sed etiam doctrina: nam principum philosophorum ita percepta habuit praecepta, ut iis ad vitam agendam, non ad ostentationem uteretur. [[Atticus] did this not only because of Nature—we all obey that—but also because of his learning, for he comprehended the precepts of the first philosophers so thoroughly that he employed them not for show but for living his life.] Atticus' learning (doctrina) is regarded as valuable because he actually employed it as a means to the end of living well, not an end in itself. Slightly later in the text, at the point when Nepos explains how he came to expand his first edition of the Atticus, he declares his purpose to be to teach his readers, Page 66 → as best he can, from actual examples (quantum poterimus, rerum exemplis lectores docebimus, 19.1). He pursues his instruction just as Atticus demonstrated his learning: through exemplary conduct. Cicero would not disagree that exempla can be powerful teachers of ethics, but he would shift the emphasis.29 For him, as we saw in the excerpt of his letter to Nepos quoted above, what matters are the designs (consilia) behind the exempla. Actions can be misinterpreted, so intentions have to be made clear if the actions they inspire are to be properly judged, and philosophy provides the language by which to justify intention. A convenient way to comprehend how Cicero valued philosophy more than Nepos did is to return to the argument of Lactantius in which Nepos' letter to Cicero was quoted. As part of Lactantius' larger argument that pagan philosophy is a false path, he stresses that one sign of its failing is the moral weakness of its own teachers, and then he cites Nepos' letter in support. But in fact, Nepos is the second authority Lactantius quotes, the first being Cicero himself in the second book of the Tusculan Disputations (2.11–12 = Div. Inst. 3.15.9): quotus enim quisque philosophorum invenitur, qui sit ita moratus, ita animo ac vita constitutus, ut

ratio postulat? qui disciplinam suam non ostentationem scientiae, sed legem vitae putet? qui obtemperet ipse sibi et decretis suis pareat? videre licet alios tanta levitate et iactatione, ut iis fuerit non didicisse melius, alios pecuniae cupidos, gloriae non nullos, multos libidinum servos, ut cum eorum vita mirabiliter pugnet oratio.

[How often is a philosopher found who is endowed and formed in mind and style of life in the way that reason demands; who thinks that his training is not for the show of his knowledge but for the ordering of his life; who submits to himself and obeys his own decrees? Some can be seen who are so vain and boastful that it would have been better for them not to have learned the subject, others who are desirous of Page 67 → money, not a few for glory, and many who are slaves of their desires, so that their speech conflicts dramatically with their life.] This passage perfectly introduces the excerpt from the letter of Nepos (which immediately follows), and it thereby creates the misleading impression that Cicero and Nepos actually agree about the general worthlessness of philosophers. But those who read the Tusculans themselves will not understand this passage in the way Lactantius presents it, for Cicero continues by immediately saying that he finds such behavior by philosophers to be highly shameful (quod quidem mihi videtur esse turpissimum, 2.12). He goes on to compare such a figure to a grammaticus who speaks ungrammatically or a music teacher who sings out of tune, and he explains that he judges them shameful for erring in the very thing about which they profess knowledge: “the philosopher who errs in the ordering of his life is the more shameful because he falters in the duty for which he wishes to be the master; he fails in living although claiming to teach the art of life.”30 Cicero thus shares Nepos' view that philosophers sometimes debase their instruction through their own hypocrisy, but he still embraces the subject as teaching the “art of life,” while Nepos dismisses it as an invalid teacher of such an art. Lactantius, accordingly, needs to be recognized as a misleading witness to his sources, who will deploy them out of context in order to aid his argument. In the case of Tusculans 2.11–12, it is easy to catch him. For the correspondence between Nepos and Cicero, therefore, where the corpus around his quotation has been lost, one has reason to be suspicious of whether it fairly represents Nepos' point of view. Yet since the sentiment of Atticus 17.3 reflects the same spirit as the view that Lactantius quotes, it seems that where Lactantius pairs Cicero and Nepos for their disgust at the hypocrisy of moral philosophers, modern readers need to distinguish between their conclusions more carefully. Nepos finds the philosophical approach to be in itself faulty because of the hypocrisy of some of its messengers, while Cicero, although he acknowledges that such hypocrisy undermines the credibility of the subject, still advocates its pursuit. He compares the wayward philosopher to the field that does not bear fruit even when cultivated: it is an unfortunate investment, but it should not cause one to abandon cultivation altogether.31 The fragments of the correspondence between Nepos and Cicero, all Page 68 → seemingly from within the last few years of Cicero's life,32 thus reveal that both men endorse the importance of living well by finding a sound basis for one's ethical conduct. Cicero advocates the pursuit of philosophy in order to establish and examine that basis, while Nepos studies the relationship between a man's declared principles and his conduct. Atticus seems to square the circle, for his conduct is stressed in Nepos' biography, while Cicero casts him as an interlocutor in some of his philosophical works.33 Nepos stresses how Atticus was an intermediary who managed to strengthen bonds of friendship between those who might otherwise have clashed, and perhaps Atticus' skills were also deployed in building a relationship between his own friends Nepos and Cicero.34 Two brief references to Nepos in the correspondence from Cicero to Atticus confirm Atticus' position as a social bridge between Cicero and Nepos. In the second of these references (ad Att. 16.14 [SB 425].4, dated 12? November 44), Cicero, responding to his receipt of three letters from Atticus, notes: Male narras de Nepotis filio. valde mehercule moveor et moleste fero. nescieram omnino esse istum puerum.

[That is bad news about Nepos' son. I am really quite upset and not taking it well. I had not known of that boy at all.] The fact that Cicero was not even aware of the existence of this son of Nepos implies that the two fathers were not very close personally, yet Cicero's clear desire to communicate to Atticus his sympathy for Nepos also connotes that he does feel some connection to him, seemingly personally as well as due to his friendship with Atticus.35 This passage thus suggests a relationship of middle distance, courteous but not close, developed more by the discussion of historical and political topics than by personal familiarity. Page 69 → This impression is strengthened by a letter to Atticus from four months earlier, a passage that also confirms the existence of correspondence between Cicero and Nepos (ad Att. 16.5 [SB 410].5, dated 9 July 44): Nepotis epistulam exspecto. cupidus ille meorum, qui ea quibus maxime ais “ ” tu vero ille quidem

legenda non putet? et

[I am awaiting Nepos' letter. Is he eager for my works—he who does not think that those in which I especially take pride are worth reading? And you say, “after the noble.” But it is you who are the noble one, while he is immortal.] The line of thought in this passage is elliptical and dependent on details of context that are not recoverable. Atticus has apparently communicated to Cicero that Nepos would like to read something Cicero has written, and Cicero responds with indignation, perhaps feigned, that Nepos would have any interest in Cicero's works after his unfavorable judgment of some earlier works. Because of the fragment of Nepos' letter to Cicero preserved by Lactantius, it has been speculated that Cicero is here referring to Nepos' cool reception of Cicero's philosophical corpus. The Tusculan Disputations, for example, were finished the previous autumn.36 But more interesting than Cicero's expression of his fragile ego is how he continues by anticipating Atticus' response to his complaint about Nepos' reception of his work. He imagines that Atticus will quiet him by saying “ ” The relationship between Cicero and Atticus is so close that he can quote only these two words and presume that Atticus will follow his reasoning. The reference is likely Homeric, for in six formulaic lines, this phrase is used to rank someone as second in a particular quality behind the established leader. Five of the six cases place Achilles in the best position, and four of those five compare Ajax to him. At Odyssey 11.469–70, for example, Ajax is “best in form and build / of the other Danaans after the noble son of Peleus” ( ).37 I surmise that for Cicero and Atticus, the expression Page 70 → had become a shorthand way to express that an individual had significant positive qualities even if he was not the absolute best in his given field. Hence, after Cicero complains to Atticus about Nepos' reception of his work, he knows that Atticus will not want him to continue complaining and will likely defend Nepos by reminding him that Nepos has other virtues that should cause him to acknowledge Nepos' request. All of this is conveyed in shorthand when Cicero writes, “And you say, ‘ ’”38 Cicero then responds to his own depiction of Atticus' imagined objection by praising Atticus as the truly noble figure and elevating Nepos to immortal status. The praise of both men is thereby not to be understood entirely seriously, but it is Cicero's way of acknowledging Atticus' anticipated defense of Nepos and thereby also signaling that he will indeed answer Nepos' letter appropriately when he receives it. He will not, in other words, let his pique about Nepos' seemingly dismissive judgment regarding some previous work interfere with his expression of interest in a new one. On this reading, we again see that Cicero is not as close or as favorable toward Nepos as Atticus is, but he does not want to be discourteous to a friend of Atticus who is also, though to a lesser degree, a friend of his own. The representation of Cicero in the writings of Nepos was likely more positive and perhaps exclusively so. Nepos wrote a biography of Cicero in at least two books, and Gellius mentions it right after he claims that Nepos was “a particularly close friend” of Cicero. It is a reasonable conclusion, on the model of the Atticus, that Gellius' evidence for the friendship of Cicero and Nepos came from within the biography itself.39 But Gellius' reason for

discussing the biography is quite different (15.28.1–2 = Marshall fr. 37): Cornelius Nepos et rerum memoriae non indiligens et M. Ciceronis ut qui maxime amicus familiaris fuit. atque is tamen, in primo librorum quos de vita illius composuit, errasse videtur, cum eum scripsit tres et viginti annos natum primam causam iudicii publici egisse Sextumque Roscium parricidii reum defendisse. Page 71 → [Cornelius Nepos was diligent both about the recording of events and about Marcus Cicero, given that he was a particularly close friend. But nevertheless, in the first of those books that he wrote about the life of that man, he seems to have made a mistake when he wrote that [Cicero] was in his twenty-third year [i.e., twenty-two years old] when he conducted his first criminal trial, defending Sextus Roscius on a charge of parricide.] Gellius then tracks the number of years, naming the relevant consuls as he goes, from Cicero's birthday on 3 January 106 BCE to his delivery of the Pro Quinctio in 81 BCE and thence to the following year, 80 BCE, when Cicero, in his twenty-seventh year (i.e., still twenty-six years old), delivered the Pro Roscio (15.28.3).40 He next reveals that the dating of the Pro Roscio was something of a scholarly controversy, and he offers his own suggestion for why Nepos made his mistake (15.28.4–5): In qua re etiam Fenestellam errasse Pedianus Asconius animadvertit, quod eum scripserit sexto vicesimo aetatis anno pro Sex. Roscio dixisse. longior autem Nepotis quam Fenestellae error est, nisi quis vult in animum inducere Nepotem, studio amoris et amicitiae adductum, amplificandae admirationis gratia quadriennium suppressisse, ut M. Cicero orationem florentem dixisse Pro Roscio admodum adulescens videretur. [Asconius Pedianus has observed that Fenestella also made a mistake in this matter, since he wrote that [Cicero] delivered the Pro Roscio in his twenty-sixth year of age [i.e., at twenty-five years old]. But the error of Nepos is greater, unless one wishes to believe that Nepos, spurred by the zeal of his love and friendship, suppressed a period Page 72 → of four years for the sake of increasing one's admiration that Marcus Cicero would seem to have delivered his successful speech Pro Roscio while still so young.] The spirit of friendship that Gellius found in Nepos' Cicero was such that it was possible for him to believe that it motivated some distortion in the chronology of Cicero's life.41 Gellius' conclusion is at least a plausible way to understand an otherwise inexplicable error.42 Given Nepos' personal ties to Cicero and Atticus, it seems likely that as he embarked on an extensive biography of Cicero, he pinpointed the year and day of Cicero's birth and reread the Pro Roscio, Cicero's first major success as an advocate. As any reader of that speech knows, it takes much of its drama from being the first murder trial to be held (in 80 BCE) after the dictatorship of Sulla.43 To place it four years earlier would put it before Sulla had become dictator or had even returned to Italy. For Nepos to make this mistake, therefore, he either did not know when Cicero was born or did not know the basic chronology of the civil wars and Sulla's domination of Rome in the late eighties. Since his ignorance about either of those is hard to believe, this mistake becomes enough of a whopper for Gellius to comment on it. Perhaps Nepos was simply careless in his determination of Cicero's age at the time of the Pro Roscio, but Gellius characterizes Nepos as otherwise “diligent about the recording of events” (rerum memoriae non indiligens, 15.28.1), and thus he thinks the cause of Nepos' mistake should lie elsewhere.44 Since Gellius seemingly based that judgment on his actual reading of Nepos' Cicero, his testimony should not be dismissed because he then chose to single out one conspicuous mistake.45 The error, whatever the Page 73 → reason, is an unusually troubling inaccuracy, which is why it drew Gellius' attention.46 A further hint, and a tantalizing one, of Nepos' highly favorable depiction of Cicero comes from an excerpt declared to be by “Cornelius Nepos, in the book On Latin Historians, in praise of Cicero” (Cornelius Nepos in

libro de historicis Latinis de laude Ciceronis), as preserved as an introduction to a twelfth-century manuscript of Cicero's Philippics and first recognized in 1759.47 Presumably it was taken from the preface to On Latin Historians, but its specific position and its addressee are unknown. Even so, it is significant evidence for Nepos' judgment of Cicero's legacy: Non ignorare debes unum hoc genus Latinarum litterarum adhuc non modo non respondere Graeciae, sed omnino rude atque inchoatum morte Ciceronis relictum. ille enim fuit unus qui potuerit et etiam debuerit historiam digna voce pronuntiare, quippe qui oratoriam eloquentiam rudem a maioribus acceptam perpoliverit, philosophiam ante eum incomptam Latinam sua conformarit oratione. ex quo dubito, interitu eius utrum res publica an historia magis doleat. [You ought not to be unaware that this one branch of Latin literature [i.e., history] not only still fails to match that of Greece but has been left altogether unrefined and undeveloped by the death of Cicero. For he was the one man who could have, and indeed ought to have, discoursed upon history in worthy language, since he polished up the unrefined style of oratorical eloquence that he received from his predecessors, and he formed from his own power of speech the discussion of philosophy in Latin, which had been unkempt before him. Hence I am uncertain whether the Republic or history grieves more for his death.] Page 74 → Whatever sort of work it was that Cicero reports Nepos as judging not worth reading in ad Atticum 16.5.5, this passage suggests that Nepos' criticism was not based on style. Here Nepos credits Cicero with bringing to both oratorical and philosophical Latin prose a luster that it had never had. At the end of On Foreign Generals, Nepos invites the reader to compare the Romans against the non-Romans (Hann. 13.4). But in the case of the pair of books On Greek Historians and On Latin Historians, Nepos here declares (in advance?) that the comparison is not a very successful one. He acknowledges the superiority of the Greek historians with the excuse that Rome's best candidate had never taken up the challenge to match their achievement in Latin.48 This missed opportunity for the discipline of history is so great, Nepos feels, that he expresses doubt as to “whether the Republic or history grieves more for his death.” Nepos thereby suggests that Cicero's service to Latin letters was such that his achievements as author came close to matching his achievements as statesman. This emphasis on Cicero as a historical writer is understandable within the context of a book On Latin Historians, but it should not be overlooked that Nepos presents the Republic as the most expected mournful figure at Cicero's funeral. This book included the Atticus, which allows us to date its composition to the midthirties BCE, when the tensions between Antony and Octavian were becoming ever more palpable. At such a moment, a sympathetic assertion of the Republic's great grief over the loss of Cicero is itself a political claim and likely even a slight jab at Octavian and Antony themselves, since they published Cicero's name on the proscription lists. Cicero's death is absent from the Atticus,49 yet a lamentation for it is still heard Page 75 → within On Latin Historians. We thus have a further hint that Nepos' own politics, analogous to those of his friend Atticus, were of the conservative, optimate sort but were expressed only indirectly. The treatment of Cicero in the Atticus supports this conclusion. The close friendship of Cicero and Atticus is documented on several occasions within the biography (1.4, 4.4, 5.3–4), but their different approaches to politics also appear. During the Mutina campaign in 43 BCE, Nepos reports, Atticus' friendship with Cicero and Brutus did not cause him to endorse Cicero's desire to harm Antony, and he even protected Antony's family (9.1–7). His political attitudes were sympathetic to the republicanism of Cicero and Brutus, but he would not allow his political actions to be partisan, especially his support of his friends (8.1–4). Hence Atticus refrained from the personal animosities of political life, even though his principles were always those of the optimates (6.1) and even though aiding some friends might complicate other friendships. This is a morally complicated middle ground, yet Nepos is clearly sympathetic to it throughout the Atticus. The importance of Atticus' neutrality within Nepos' account makes it easy for the reader to forget Atticus' republicanism, as if Atticus were such a quietist that he did not even

have a preference between optimate principles and tyrannical ones. Yet one should not let the absence of vehement republicanism in Nepos' characterization of Atticus' political life cause one to believe that no republicanism existed there at all. Cicero's letters to Atticus make the latter's more restrained republican principles familiar. Cicero could have not been the friend of Atticus that he was if Atticus were not sympathetic to his politics. Yet Cicero did not expect Atticus to play the same part on the public stage that he did: Cicero sought the comfort of Atticus' friendship and the wisdom of his counsel out of the public eye.50 Hence Nepos characterizes the fiery politics of Cicero's letters to Atticus as evidence of the closeness of the personal bond Cicero felt for him (Att. 16.2–4): eum praecipue dilexit Cicero, ut ne frater quidem ei Quintus carior fuerit aut familiarior. ei rei sunt indicio praeter eos libros, in quibus de eo facit mentionem, qui in vulgus sunt editi, undecim volumina epistularum, ab consulatu eius usque ad extremum tempus ad Atticum missarum: quae qui legat, non multum desideret historiam contextam eorum temporum. sic enim omnia de studiis principum, vitiis ducum, Page 76 → mutationibus rei publicae perscripta sunt, ut nihil in eis non appareat et facile existimari possit, prudentiam quodam modo esse divinationem. non enim Cicero ea solum, quae vivo se acciderunt, futura praedixit, sed etiam, quae nunc usu veniunt, cecinit ut vates. [Cicero especially loved [Atticus], such that not even his brother Quintus was dearer or more familiar to him. As an indication of this feeling—in addition to those books in which [Cicero] makes mention of him, which have been published—there are eleven volumes of letters, sent to Atticus from his consulship all the way down to the final period of his life. The reader of these letters would hardly lack a connected history of these years, for everything about the energies of the principals, the vices of the generals, and the changes in the Republic is so thoroughly described that there is nothing that does not appear in these volumes, and it can easily be judged that his foresight was somewhat equivalent to divination. For not only did Cicero predict future events that happened during his lifetime, but he also sang like a prophet about things that are now happening.] This passage gains most of its attention for the fact that it is the earliest attestation of the preservation of a large corpus of letters from Cicero to Atticus. Surely the eleven volumes that Nepos read are the heart of the collection now extant,51 yet how the collection Nepos saw became the collection in sixteen books as we know them is an unrecoverable process; all that can be said for sure is that the letters were available in the Neronian period, a century after Cicero's death.52 Page 77 → The possibility has even been raised that Nepos was involved in the transmission or publication of Cicero's letters to Atticus.53 A passage in Fronto indicates that Nepos' authority lay behind particular copies of some of Cicero's works, though which works are not specified.54 The stronger and more contemporary piece of evidence, though still only suggestive, occurs in the letter to Atticus in which Cicero declares Nepos immortal.55 The inconclusive issue is whether the passage in which Nepos is named introduces the passage that follows it (ad Att. 16.5 [SB 410].5): Nepotis epistulam exspecto. cupidus ille meorum, qui ea quibus maxime ais “ ” tu vero ille quidem

legenda non putet? et

mearum epistularum nulla est sed habet Tiro instar septuaginta, et quidem sunt a te quaedam sumendae. eas ego oportet perspiciam, corrigam; tum denique edentur. [I am awaiting Nepos' letter. Is he eager for my works—he who does not think that those in which I especially take pride are worth reading? And you say, “after the noble.” But it is you who are the noble one, while he is immortal. There is no Collection of my letters; but Tiro has something like seventy, and there are also some

from you that I should get. I need to look through them and correct them; only then will they be published.]

Page 78 → If these two ideas are linked in Cicero's mind, then it is possible to understand that the letter Cicero is awaiting from Nepos is a request for some collection of his letters.56 Atticus has alerted him to the request and perhaps even endorsed it, since Cicero seems to be responding to pressure from Atticus when he says that the letters can be published only when he has finished gathering them and has had the chance to edit them. Moreover, the fact that Cicero refers to letters he has to get from Atticus confirms that Atticus has copies of letters that Cicero does not and that Atticus had collected a corpus of Cicero's letters that was different (larger?) than Cicero's own.57 Once Cicero was dead, Atticus had little reason to be reserved about showing that collection to his friend Nepos, whose excitement at reading it is reflected in Atticus 16.3–4. Rather than dwell on what exactly Nepos read, however, I would emphasize Nepos' characterization of the contents of Cicero's letters to Atticus.58 Reading them straight through, he says, causes them to seem a connected history of the period (historiam contextam, 16.3). This history is characterized as focusing on three main topics: the passions of the leading public figures, the vices of the generals, and the changes in the Republic (de studiis principum, vitiis ducum, mutationibus rei publicae, 16.4). The emphasis on these three topics suggests Nepos' own understanding of the events of the period: the Republic was changed because politics got too heated and because the generals succumbed to vice. As might be expected of a sympathetic reading of Cicero's letters, the accounting of blame leaves Cicero largely in the clear. It was the vices of the generals that caused the changes.59 To Nepos' mind, moreover, Cicero's presentation of the ramifications of these changes caused by the generals has largely been vindicated. Cicero's foresight was something like divine revelation, Nepos declares, for what he said would happen has in fact happened (16.4). The particular predictions Nepos attributes to Cicero are unspecified, yet the general sense of Cicero's feelings about the Republic at the end of his life is easy to find in his letters Page 79 → to Atticus and in his many other writings from the forties. Cicero believed that the Republic had been lost under Caesar's dictatorship, that Caesar's military power had overcome the authority of the Senate and the freedom of expression within political debate that the Senate represented. Thus, when Nepos, after experiencing nearly a decade of triumviral politics, says that Cicero “sang like a prophet” (cecinit ut vates, 16.4) about the future of the Republic, he signals his acceptance of Cicero's dire predictions for it. The Republic itself, as it were, was to die soon after it had joined history to mourn Cicero's death.60 What Antony and Octavian are fighting for is not the revival of the Republic but supremacy over the world (Att. 20.5). From a biographer who would then go on to write a comparative pair of books on Roman and non-Roman generals, this connection between the vices of generals and the demise of the Republic is a valuable indicator of the politics behind Nepos' political biography.61 Nepos' presentation of contemporary politics thus displays a clear sympathy for Ciceronian principles, which to some degree thereby necessitates an anti-Caesarian position. Nepos' friendship with Cicero looks to have been more professional than personal, yet even from a scholarly profile, Nepos was still socially positioned within the circle of Atticus and Cicero and had the literary means to express his own sympathy for the traditionally republican politics fundamental to the thinking of that circle. This social positioning is precisely what makes Catullus' dedication poem so striking, for Nepos appears to have been a different kind of writer, a figure from the older and seemingly more conservative set who would not be expected to express encouragement to a young and unconventional poet.62 When Pliny the Younger tells us that Nepos himself wrote poetry, he groups him with Virgil, Accius, Page 80 → and Ennius. This grouping, together with his praise for their collective moral purity (sanctitas morum, Epist. 5.3.6), seems to characterize Nepos in a more traditional mold than Catullus. Yet Nepos found Catullus' trifles to be worth something, and Catullus responded with his dedicatory poem. Confirmation that Nepos valued Catullus' poetry comes in the Atticus, when Nepos explains how Atticus saved from the proscription lists the otherwise unknown Lucius Iulius Calidus, whom he describes as the most elegant poet of the age after the death of Lucretius and Catullus (quem post Lucreti Catullique mortem multo elegantissimum poetam, 12.4).63 The praise is indirect, but it nevertheless supports the claim at Catullus 1.3–4 that Nepos encouraged Catullus, which,

in turn, makes plausible the idea that Catullus' dedicatory poem is sincere. Those who are skeptical that the relationship between Catullus and Nepos could have been intellectually significant enough to warrant a sincere dedication poem also express the same opinion of the relationship between Cicero and Nepos, holding that Nepos was always the intellectual inferior and thus the recipient of veiled disdain.64 The obvious difficulty with such a view is that it cannot explain why so much corroborating evidence exists for relationships that were allegedly so limited. Catullus names many friends in his poems, yet he chooses to distinguish Nepos by dedicating to him a freshly bound collection of his poems, with praise for Nepos' own learned books (cartis doctis, 1.6–7). The significance of that act should cause the modern reader to respect Catullus' choice and to seek to understand it rather than undermine it. Catullus' praise need not be wholly sincere, but his dedication poem was not written primarily to make a joke at its recipient's expense. Nepos' relationship with Cicero, although also hard to measure precisely, is equally likely to have been respectful about differences of perspective. A correspondence between Cicero and Nepos that stretched for at least two books would not have been sustained for so long if one party had found the other to be patently inferior. In fact, our glimpses into that correspondence suggest serious discussions of difficult topics: Caesar's legacy, the problem of distinguishing between Caesar's undeniable success and his dishonorable Page 81 → designs, the relationship between happiness and fortune, and the hypocrisy of moral philosophers with prominent moral flaws of their own. Nepos praises Cicero's literary achievement in oratory and philosophy, characterizes his Letters to Atticus as a veritable history of the period that anticipated the death of the Republic, and ultimately writes a biography of him that is at least two books in length. The interaction of Nepos and Cicero should be recognized for its actual substance, not its supposed mockery. The belief in that mockery results from an overemphasis on two particular pieces of evidence that are linked together plausibly, though circumstantially. The first is the quotation of Nepos' letter to Cicero in Lactantius (Div. Inst. 3.15.10 = Marshall fr. 39), in which Nepos claims that philosophy should not be regarded as the “instructor of life” (magistra vitae), since its own teachers needed teachers of their own. Such a view clearly expresses a difference of opinion from Cicero, but it likely represents a relatively widespread view among the Roman upper classes, common enough that Cicero acknowledges its currency at Tusculans 2.11–12 and feels the need to rebut it. Nepos' emphasis on exemplary conduct, in fact, has a much longer and deeper tradition in Roman thought than the doctrines of Greek philosophy, while Cicero was on the leading edge of Roman culture for openly embracing philosophy as explicative of conduct and therefore worthy of intensive study.65 Hence Jenkinson reads too much into the passage from Lactantius when she asserts that “such bluntness must surely have touched Cicero on the raw,” as if Cicero would choose his friends only out of those who would commit to designating philosophy as the instructor of their lives.66 Yet it is primarily on the evidence Page 82 → of this passage that she declares that the “two men were as different as chalk and cheese.”67 This view leads to the invocation of the second piece of evidence, the letter to Atticus in which Cicero complains that Nepos found some of his works not worth reading, imagines that Atticus will say “ ” and declares Atticus the noble one ( ) and Nepos immortal ( ad Att. 16.5 [SB 410].5). “On any interpretation,” says Horsfall, the passage is “a joke at [Nepos'] expense shared by Cicero and Atticus.”68 On my interpretation, however, explained above and developed from that of Joseph Geiger, Cicero's anticipation of what Atticus will say reflects his awareness that Atticus will come to the defense of Nepos.69 Everyone would agree that Cicero's reply to Atticus' anticipated defense is a jest: he is not serious in declaring Nepos to be among the immortals. But that jest does not necessarily require that the joke is at Nepos' expense,70 and if Cicero's humor seeks to palliate Atticus' anticipated defense of Nepos, then it would be counterproductive for his reference to Nepos to be heard as derisive. If anything, Cicero's tone here is defensive, caught between his desire to voice his complaint about Nepos and his awareness that Atticus does not really want to hear it.71 The banter in this passage thus confirms, rather than defines, the rest of our evidence for the interaction of Nepos and Cicero: theirs was a cordial but not intimate friendship, marked by a similarity of political perspective (but not activity) and a shared dedication to learning and cultural history, yet also infused with differences of opinion about the significance of the formal study of philosophy for ethics. Nepos' friendship with Atticus can be imagined on the same model, though likely with more personal warmth.

What makes Nepos particularly interesting, therefore, is that he was also Page 83 → the dedicatee of a libellus from Catullus. He straddled different intellectual and literary circles, and his work seems to combine the spirit of innovation from one group with the more conservative morals of the other. In his presentation of Atticus' decorous way of life (Att. 13–17), for example, Nepos sounds more socially traditional than Catullus, while in his suspicions about the value of formal philosophy, he seems more conservative than Cicero. Nepos' position among Cicero, Atticus, and Catullus is thus something that distinguishes him as a cultural figure of the late Republic who is worthy of serious consideration in his own right. Those who assume that Nepos' links to such fascinating friends demonstrate his intellectual inferiority miss the opportunity of utilizing those links to understand the role of Nepos at their center.

Nepos' Exempla One further source for understanding Nepos' position between Cicero and Catullus requires separate discussion, for it is the most difficult of Nepos' works to reconstruct: the Exempla. Like the Chronica, the Exempla appears to have been innovative. No earlier such collection in Latin is known.72 Also as in the case of the Chronica, however, the extant evidence for the Exempla is so scant that it is difficult to reach firm conclusions about its contents. The poor state of its fragments likely explains why the Exempla is not usually invoked when examining Nepos' relationship to Cicero or Catullus, but the effort to contextualize these fragments, even with the necessary caveats about their limitations, reveals some significant clues about Nepos' cultural attitudes.73 The work is attested by name and title only twice. The first of these instances, in the grammarian Charisius, quotes three words from the second book for an interesting use of the ablative.74 Thus the most significant passage for our knowledge of Nepos' Exempla is the only other passage to cite it explicitly. This passage comes at the end of Gellius 6.18, an entry about how the Romans regarded oaths as sacred and inviolable. Gellius recounts that ten Roman prisoners, captured by Hannibal at Cannae, swear an oath that they will return to the Carthaginian camp if the terms set by Hannibal for a prisoner Page 84 → exchange are not approved by the Roman Senate. Two of the ten then seek to escape the spirit of that oath on a technicality, for which the censors at Rome rebuke them. Gellius then continues, “Cornelius Nepos, moreover, in the fifth book of his Exempla, has also entrusted to writing” (Cornelius autem Nepos in libro exemplorum quinto id quoque litteris mandavit, 6.18.11) that some in the Senate sought to send the two oath breakers back to Hannibal under guard but were outvoted and that the two culprits ultimately killed themselves, since they were so dishonored and hated.75 Gellius thus started from an unnamed source and then introduced Nepos as a secondary source, but we can nevertheless discern that his Exempla also shared the historical setting and ethical judgment that Gellius presents. We also learn that the Exempla spanned at least five books; hence the scope was larger than the three books of the Chronica (Catullus 1.5–7). The interpretative challenge is thus to understand the form and purpose of the work: what was included, and to what end? In oratory and declamation, an exemplum is an allusion to or summary of a historical anecdote that illustrates the speaker's persuasive goal. Advice on the deployment of exempla can be found in rhetorical handbooks.76 The ultimate extant collection of such exempla for speakers is Valerius Maximus' Memorable Deeds and Sayings (Facta et Dicta Memorabilia), which organizes about one thousand exemplary anecdotes into thematic categories. Valerius assembled his collection during the reign of Tiberius, some five decades after Nepos' death.77 A connection between Nepos' Exempla and Valerius' work seems inescapable, but our lack of evidence causes it to be indistinct.78 Nepos is not known to have pursued public oratory or declamation, but his antiquarian interests and his friendship with Cicero perhaps caused him to see the value that a collection of Exempla would have for orators. Given that Nepos also wrote biographies, however, other possibilities for Page 85 → the purpose and format of the Exempla should also be considered. If Nepos produced the Exempla as he prepared On Famous Men or as an abridgement of it, then it could be a collection of anecdotes like that of Valerius Maximus, but one more for students of history than for those of oratory. Exemplary history sought to teach its readers, through its presentation of the past, how to live in the present.79 As in the example regarding the sanctity of oaths in Gellius 6.18, the historical anecdote often results in the endorsement of a moral perspective. Such a perspective, in fact, overlaps with a collection of rhetorical exempla, since, as Cato the Elder allegedly declared and Quintilian approvingly

followed, an orator should be “a good man skilled in speaking” (vir bonus dicendi peritus). The exempla that an orator utilizes, in other words, should also reflect and promote the ethical perspective that the orator and his audience endorse, and a collection of rhetorical exempla such as Valerius Maximus' will therefore incorporate an ethical component within its rhetorical purpose.80 Ancient historical and biographical writing likewise incorporated an ethical agenda as a crucial aspect of its utility.81 Cicero, for example, was publicly prepared to justify his study of the past by the inspiration that historical exempla provided (Arch. 14): pleni omnes sunt libri, plenae sapientium voces, plena exemplorum vetustas; quae iacerent in tenebris omnia, nisi litterarum lumen accederet. Quam multas nobis imagines non solum ad intuendum verum etiam ad imitandum fortissimorum virorum expressas scriptores et Graeci et Latini reliquerunt! quas ego mihi semper in administranda re publica proponens animum et mentem meam ipsa cogitatione hominum excellentium conformabam. [Books, the voices of the wise, antiquity—all are full of exempla that would still be in shadow if the light of letters were not shining upon them. How many images of the bravest men—molded not only for our contemplation but also for our imitation—have both Greek and Page 86 → Latin writers left for us! Always holding these images before me when managing public affairs, I have formed my spirit and mind by this very reflection upon excellent men.] Although this passage is, in itself, part of a piece of masterly oratorical persuasion, Cicero here invokes the exempla of the past as a guide to a virtuous political life.82 The images of brave men that he finds in books are said to inform his heart and mind, not just his oratory. Nepos' biographical books on Roman and foreign generals would seem to fit the sort of reading Cicero here describes, and his Exempla could have been collected with a similar purpose. However, Cicero could have turned to a work entitled Exempla for oratorical, historical, and/or ethical reasons, and the example of Gellius 6.18 could have potentially satisfied any or all of those reasons. Moreover, since Nepos' work seems to have been the first of its kind, its content and its form were not fixed by precedent or genre. All these considerations suggest that the fragments of Nepos' Exempla should be approached with an open mind, so that its purpose can emerge from an assessment of its content. Editors of fragments do not have to characterize the work to which they attribute them, but their arrangement of the fragments does suggest something about their assessment of the work's overall character. Editing the fragments of Nepos poses particular challenges. Almost all of what he wrote is lost, and an individual topic could have appeared in more than one work. Our knowledge of the subjects of the books in On Famous Men is quite limited, and biography incorporates anecdotes and exemplary moments in the same way that a collection of Exempla likely would. Hence an editor of the fragments of Nepos is faced with difficult choices when attributing a particular reference to a particular work. How, for example, should one categorize the reference to Octavian's drinking habits attested in Suetonius (Aug. 77 = Marshall fr. 62)? Vini quoque natura parcissimus erat. non amplius ter bibere eum solitum super cenam in castris apud Mutinam Cornelius Nepos tradit. [[Octavian] was by nature also most thrifty with his wine. Cornelius Nepos reports that he was accustomed to drink no more than three times during dinner while in camp near Mutina.] Page 87 → As a demonstration of moderation, this point would seem appropriately attributed to the Exempla. Yet a reasonable case has also been made that this example, given its specific location at Mutina and given Antony's contrary reputation for heavy drinking, best suits the propaganda campaigns of the latter part of the triumvirate and therefore should be attributed to a biography of Antony in On Roman Generals.83 A similar choice between Exempla and On Famous Men is required for an anecdote preserved by Augustine (opus imperfectum contra Iulianum 4.43 = Marshall fr. 14):

Amplexare factum illud Cratae Thebani, hominis locupletis et nobilis, cui adeo fuit cordi secta Cynicorum, ut relinquens paternas opes Athenas cum uxore migraverit Hipparchia, pari animo istius philosophiae sectatrice, cum qua cum concumbere in publico vellet, ut refert Cornelius Nepos, et illa occultandi gratia pallii velamen obduceret, verberata est a marito: “tuis sensibus nimirum” inquit “parum adhuc docta es, quae, quod te recte facere noveris, id aliis praesentibus exercere non audeas.” [Consider that well-known deed of Crates the Theban, a wealthy and well-born man, who was so devoted to the school of the Cynics that he left behind his family's resources and moved with his wife Hipparchia to Athens. She was as devoted to that school as her husband, but when he wished to have sex with her in public, as Cornelius Nepos reports, and she drew a garment over her for cover, she was beaten by her husband, who said, “In your understanding you have clearly learned too little so far, since you do not dare to engage in something that you know you do rightly while others are present.”] Crates the Cynic is also profiled by Diogenes Laertius, and the Cynics, as a school, are perhaps better described by their actions than by their doctrines.84 If On Famous Men treated philosophers, then a biography of Crates would have appropriately contained this anecdote. But it is difficult to imagine a book On Roman Philosophers paired with On Greek Philosophers. Hence it Page 88 → seems easier to assume that a portion of the Exempla was devoted to sexual mores and to attribute this anecdote to it. The most glaring of editorial choices regarding the Exempla is what to do with the eleven references to Nepos found in Pomponius Mela's Chorographia and the geographical books of Pliny's Natural History (Marshall fr. 15–25).85 Since no explicitly geographical work is attested for Nepos, an editor either has to assert one and list these eleven fragments as evidence for it or has to assign these fragments to a known work. All three significant modern editors of the fragments have assigned these to the Exempla,86 yet a consensus of opinion has since formed against this decision.87 One strategy for defending the presentation of geography in the Exempla is to postulate that it was a work of wide antiquarian learning comparable to Pliny's Natural History. Twenty of the twenty-six fragments Marshall attributes to the Exempla involve citations by Pliny, so this thesis has some strength.88 Of the remaining six, two are from grammarians who comment on specific words and thereby give no indication of larger content. Of the three passages listed from Gellius, two of them do not cite Nepos by name. Although they are the products of educated source criticism, it is more prudent to discount them.89 In terms of content, then, one is left with Gellius' passage about oaths that cites the fifth book of the Exempla, the anecdote about Crates preserved in Augustine, and twenty citations in Pliny's Natural History, eleven of which are geographical. There are several possibilities. One is to postulate that the Exempla was like the Natural History in its content. A second is to imagine two works: an Exempla and a Chorographia like that of Pomponius Mela. A third is to posit three works: an Exempla, a Chorographia, and a Natural History. The decisive evidence has to come from the nine attestations in Pliny that are not geographical (Marshall fr. 26–34). Three of these references are effectively neutral in their content (or are better attributed to the Chronica or a Chorographia),90 but the other six suggest a pattern. The most complete Page 89 → version of the pattern is found at Natural History 9.137 (= Marshall fr. 27), as part of a history of purple at Rome: Nepos Cornelius, qui divi Augusti principatu obiit, “Me” inquit “iuvene violacea purpura vigebat, cuius libra denariis centum venibat, nec multo post rubra Tarentina. huic successit dibapha Tyria, quae in libras denariis mille non poterat emi. hac P. Lentulus Spinther aedilis curulis primus in praetexta usus improbabatur. qua purpura quis non iam” inquit “tricliniaria facit?” [Cornelius Nepos, who died in the principate of the divine Augustus, says, “When I was young, a violet shade of purple was in vogue, which sold for one hundred denarii a pound, and not much later came Tarentine red. Following next was the double-dyed Tyrian purple, which could not be bought at one thousand denarii a pound. Publius Lentulus Spinther, when he was curule aedile, first made use of this purple on the border of his toga and met with disapproval. But who now,” he says, “does not make his covers for his dining couches with this purple?”]

Spinther, as Pliny goes on to clarify, was curule aedile in 63 BCE, when Cicero was consul; thus Nepos' point in this passage is to suggest that such luxuries as the double-dyed Tyrian purple had become much more common at Rome over the course of his own lifetime. Other citations of Nepos in Pliny's Natural History seem to follow a similar pattern: within Nepos' memory, simpler things at Rome were replaced by more luxurious things, at an increasing rate and to his disapproval. For example, the most noble fish “among men of old” (apud antiquos) was the sturgeon, but now bass and haddock hold the most appeal (9.60–61); the practice of fattening thrushes began only recently (10.60); there were only two sets of silver dining couches (triclinia argentea) at Rome before Sulla's victory (33.146); the first man in Page 90 → Rome to veneer all the walls of his house in marble was Mamurra (36.48); and it was amazing (magno fuisse miraculo) when Spinther (the same one who first used the double-dyed Tyrian purple on the border of his toga) had wine amphora made of onyx, but five years later, Nepos himself saw columns of onyx thirty-two feet long (36.59).91 This pattern suggests that the Exempla included anecdotal and moralizing accounts of topics in Roman culture. One such topic seems to have been encroaching luxury in various categories, such as foodstuffs, personal dress, and household ornament. On this reconstruction, the work was organized along the anecdotal lines of Valerius Maximus, but more for moral and historical interest than for rhetorical interest. Such a work could have easily included discussions of oaths and sexual mores, as in the Gellian and Augustinian references. These passages thus do not suggest that Nepos' Exempla was a Natural History, nor do they require the postulation of a separate work devoted to natural history.92 The geographical fragments, however, are exclusively descriptive of the physical world and not exemplary of any cultural attitudes. Hence they do not seem to fit in the Exempla and should be regarded as deriving from a separate work. Thus the slight evidence for Nepos' Exempla does seem to me to suggest a consistent picture. The title conveys a sympathy for traditional cultural habits, and collected under that title were what Nepos found to be telling indications of trends in Roman conduct. His endorsements of the sanctity of oaths and propriety in sexual mores are likely representative of a discussion of a great number of other moralizing topics, and it is reasonable to assume that the specific and recent examples of increasing luxury at Rome were part of a cultural critique that disapproved of changing habits and presented them as evidence for moral decline. In short, the Exempla codified a morally conservative outlook, one perhaps best exemplified in Nepos' own lifetime by Cato the Younger, hence one that also may have been played up in Nepos' lost book-length biography of Cato the Elder.93 The evidence for Nepos' relationships with Atticus and Cicero suggests that this moral conservatism was shared between them. It is surely not coincidental that Nepos specifically praises Atticus for moderate household furnishings Page 91 → that aspired to elegance, not affluence (munditiam, non affluentiam affectabat, Att. 13.5), or for not increasing his expenditure on domestic affairs even when his wealth increased (13.6–7, 14.2).94 Cicero, in turn, expresses his frustrations about senatorial colleagues who appear more interested in cultivating expensive fishponds than in serving the state.95 After the alliance of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus takes hold of Rome during Caesar's consulship in 59 BCE, Cicero writes that the whole Republic is lost because of the willingness of these leading men to rank their own interests over the moral tradition embodied in Cato: “We have learned through experience of the rash temper of these men, who have ruined everything because of their anger at Cato” (iracundiam atque intemperantiam illorum sumus experti, qui Catoni irati omnia perdiderunt, ad Att. 2.21 [SB 41].1).96 For Cicero, and for Nepos in his Exempla, the strength of Rome's old traditions was in jeopardy. Even greater significance is added to this morally conservative outlook when one recognizes that the themes of the specific extant evidence for Nepos' Exempla also overlap with Catullan themes. Sexual mores are very frequently the focus of Catullus' judgment, and poem 76 is an indignant meditation on the shamefulness of violating a sacred faith (sanctam violasse fidem, 76.3).97 Catullus' depiction of the oaths between him and Lesbia is emotionally very different from Nepos' description of those between Hannibal and his Roman prisoners (Gellius 6.18.11), but the fundamental moral perspective is the same: oaths should be regarded as sacred.98 Despite his novelty in poetic style and technique, Catullus still retains a strong sense of moral judgment and a basic approval for proper decorum. He also bluntly expresses his awareness that the cultural moment in which he lives is being corrupted by wealth and dirty politics. One of Catullus' most dramatic claims that greed is leading Rome to ruin comes in poem 29, as a denunciation of

Mamurra, Caesar's chief engineer during the Gallic War. Consider the poem's beginning and end (29.1–4, 21–24): Quis hoc potest videre, quid potest pati, nisi impudicus et vorax et aleo, Page 92 → Mamurram habere quod Comata Gallia habebat ante et ultima Britannia?… quid hunc, malum, fovetis? aut quid hic potest nisi uncta devorare patrimonia? eone nomine, urbis o potissimi socer generque, perdidistis omnia?99 [Who can see this, who can endure it, except a shameless gluttonous gambler, that Mamurra possesses what Long-Haired Gaul and farthest Britain used to possess before?… Why the hell do you favor him? What can he do except devour luxurious patrimonies? On his account, o most powerful men of the city, father-in-law and son-in-law, have you ruined everything?] The attack singles out Mamurra but ends by pinning the responsibility on Caesar and his son-in-law, Pompey, for letting such a subordinate get away with rapine on such a scale. Catullus expresses the flip side of the charge of Cicero quoted above: where Cicero had said that Caesar and Pompey were ruining everything due to their anger at Cato, Catullus alleges that they ruined everything for the sake of Mamurra.100 Cicero would not necessarily disagree. In a letter to Atticus just weeks before Caesar crossed the Rubicon, Cicero bemoans the absence of any honorable political choices and lists the wealth of Mamurra as one of the unpalatable consequences of not standing up to Caesar years before (ad Att. 7.7 [SB 130].6). Catullus maintains the same aggressively hostile linkage of Mamurra and Caesar in poem 57, and it has been long assumed that poems 29 and 57 hit their target so well that Caesar himself took offense. Suetonius, on whose authority we learn of Caesar's reaction, reports that Catullus apologized and that Caesar invited him to dinner.101 But the whole episode confirms that Page 93 → Mamurra's wealth was a political scandal for Caesar, displayed as it was in ways that offended Roman mores. One such flaunting of Mamurra's newly obtained Gallic wealth was the marble veneer that he installed throughout his entire house. It was this innovation in luxury that caught the attention of Nepos, as reported by Pliny (NH 36.48 = Marshall fr. 33): Primum Romae parietes crusta marmoris operuisse totos domus suae in Caelio monte Cornelius Nepos tradit Mamurram, Formiis natum, equitem Romanum, praefectum fabrum C. Caesaris in Gallia, ne quid indignitati desit, tali auctore inventa re. hic namque est Mamurra Catulli Veronensis carminibus proscissus, quem, ut res est, domus ipsius clarius quam Catullus dixit habere quidquid

habuisset Comata Gallia. namque adicit idem Nepos primum totis aedibus nullam nisi e marmore columnam habuisse et omnes solidas e Carystio aut Luniensi.

[Cornelius Nepos reports that the first man at Rome to have covered all the walls of his house, on the Caelian hill, with a veneer of marble was Mamurra, born at Formiae, a Roman eques, chief engineer for Gaius Caesar in Gaul; that this practice was invented with such a man as its author is proof that nothing is lacking from indignity. This is the Mamurra castigated in the poems of Catullus of Verona, whose very house, as this fact shows, declared more clearly than Catullus that “he possessed whatever Long-Haired Gaul had possessed.” The same Nepos further adds that he was the first to have had no columns in his entire house except for marble ones and that they were all solid marble from Carystus or Luna.] Nepos is cited at the beginning and ending of the passage as excerpted here, so the question is the source of the middle. Pliny's initial attribution to Nepos extends through the claim that Mamurra's marble-veneered house proved that the world was lacking no indignity (ne quid indignitati desit),102 but it is then followed by an explanatory claim in the indicative, after which Nepos is explicitly cited again. This syntax suggests that Pliny himself added the Page 94 → Catullan reference, and given what Suetonius tells us about Caesar's reaction to Catullus' verses about Mamurra, it is plausible these verses became famous enough that Pliny would have remembered them when citing Nepos regarding Mamurra's house.103 But it is impossible to know for sure if the connection was fostered by Pliny or Nepos, and it is also plausible to postulate that Nepos, as the dedicatee of a libellus from Catullus, took this opportunity to acknowledge the poet's work in return. Just as Nepos included a reference to Catullus' elegance at Atticus 12.4, so he here could have reminded his readers, as he described and judged Mamurra's house, that this was the man who, in Catullus' judgment, “possessed whatever Long-Haired Gaul had possessed” (habere quidquid habuisset Comata Gallia; compare Catullus 29.3–4: habere quod Comata Gallia / habebat). Hence the point to emphasize, regardless of which author is responsible for invoking Catullus, is that the association could have come from Nepos, and not just because of their personal acquaintance. What is so notable about the sum of the evidence for Nepos' Exempla is that its moral interests seem not dissimilar from Catullus' own. As with Catullus' dedication poem and Nepos' Chronica, we need not assume that their form of literary expression has to be comparable in order for shared attitudes to exist behind the works themselves. Catullus can praise the Chronica for its daring and its innovation, while Nepos may have praised Catullus' method of condemning Rome's new tolerance for luxurious living. Both writers, despite their generic differences, can share the fearful realization that their society is changing in ways they cannot control and that Caesar is the face of that change. Nepos could read Cicero's letters and describe them as depicting “the vices of the generals and the changes in the Republic” (vitiis ducum, mutationibus rei publicae, Att. 16.4). Catullus could see Mamurra's wealth and recognize in it how the vices of Caesar and Pompey had caused them to ruin everything. These are easily compatible representations of what it felt like to be living through the abuse of one's moral and political sensibilities. Catullus died before the final spasms of civil war engulfed the Republic, but he sensed that its current practices were not sustainable. Between Nepos and Catullus was a shared appreciation for literary history and literary daring. Among Nepos, Atticus, and Cicero was a shared enthusiasm Page 95 → for putting the past in order and understanding the place of distinguished individuals within it. But among all four men was a moral concern about the speed with which Roman mores were changing.104 The traditions that had developed for so long at Rome, that had brought the city so much glory and power, were being corrupted from within. How that corruption would resolve itself was unknown, but its prospect was unappealing. As reflective students of their times, each of these writers assessed this transformation in different literary forms. Cicero may not have found Catullus' trifles to be worth something in the way that Nepos did, and Nepos may not have valued the contents of Cicero's philosophical corpus in the way that Atticus did, but the moral values they all shared are as significant as their literary and philosophical differences. Exploring Nepos' place between Cicero and Catullus causes one to recognize just how fully he fits there.

1. On the Atticus, see Millar 1988 (who calls it “one of the best introductions to the period,” 40); Horsfall 1989: 7–28, 58–112 (who judges it “a central text which is only now emerging from millennia of neglect,” v). See further Dionisotti 1988: 45; Moles 1992 (who chides Horsfall for his “thoroughly crude literary assessments,” 315), 1993b; Damon 1993; Lindsay 1998; Hallett 2002, 2003; Burridge 2004: 124–49; Narducci 2004: 145–89; Stem 2005; Milnor 2005: 208–14; Osgood 2006: 73–74, 221–25; Lobur 2008: 81–89; Stem 2009. 2. For the historical Atticus, see Boissier 1897: 123–58; Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 1.3–59; Perlwitz 1992; Welch 1996; A. Marshall 1999. All emphasize the political importance of Atticus' private advice and financial activities over the image of his political neutrality projected in Nepos' biography. 3. Stem 2005 discusses extended examples; hence I will here limit my discussion of the Atticus primarily to the additions of the second edition. Tuplin 2000: 153 suggests that, for Nepos, “the point of a Life of an historian is precisely not to talk about his historical works at length but to try to provide facts about the author external to his writings.” 4. Griffin 1986: 64–67 considers how Atticus effectively staged his suicide by refusing to eat once his bowel disease (tenesmos [Att. 21.2], on which see Horsfall 1989: 108) had advanced past the point of curability. She stresses the theatricality and social character of the death scene, as well as the calmness of the victim. See further Toher 2002: 144–45. 5. On Agrippa's marriage and daughter, see further Reinhold 1933: 35–37, 71, 137; Millar 1988: 47; Horsfall 1989: 83–84, 104; Perlwitz 1992: 111–12. 6. The possibility that Atticus had self-interested motives is specifically rebutted at Att. 9.5, where Nepos explains why Atticus aided Antony's wife Fulvia during the Mutina campaign in 43: he thought “that the greatest profit was to be recognized as mindful and grateful, and at the same time to reveal oneself to be accustomed to be a friend to people and not to fortune” (maximum existimans quaestum, memorem gratumque cognosci, simulque aperire se non fortunae, sed hominibus solere esse amicum). See further Stem 2005: 123–27. Milnor 2005: 211–12, however, finds that a “sense of rather chilling calculation remains” in these words. Osgood 2006: 221–25 rightly emphasizes the significance of controlling fortune in the triumviral period. As White 2010: 10 points out, “in Roman civil wars, ideology counted for much less than connections.” 7. See further Millar 1988: 51–52; Osgood 2006: 346–47. As Horsfall 1989: 103 notes, “Atticus' relations with the young Octavian are described more fully than any of the friendships in the first edition (including that with Cicero!).” 8. Syme 1964: 235 judges that the Atticus “conveys a firm apologia for the man—and for the nonpolitical class.” Millar 1988: 42 (see also 52–53) regards it as “incontestable…that Nepos himself was at the least reserved and neutral, and very likely hostile, in the face of Octavian's rise to power.” See further Syme 1939: 250, 258; Osgood 2006: 221–25, 319–20, 346–47. 9. Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 1.14 n. 7 confirms Atticus' sentiment with a reference to Cic., Leg. 3.37. Hence all the “good men” joined Atticus' funeral procession (comitantibus omnibus bonis, Att. 22.4). 10. The only known exception, for Atticus, was his leadership of the equestrians at the peak of Cicero's fight against the Catilinarians: see Cicero, ad Att. 2.1.7, with Welch 1996: 462–63. Nepos reports that Atticus would accept prefectures only in name, not in duty (Att. 6.4), and Jones 1999 argues that an inscription from Ephesus identifies Atticus' involvement in one such prefecture under Octavian. See further Millar 1988: 42–45. 11. Pliny NH 9.137, 10.60: Cornelius Nepos, qui divi Augusti principatu obiit. 12. Marshall fr. 38 (on which see Geiger 1985a: 268). For Cicero's lost Pro Cornelio, see Crawford 1994: 65–144; Lewis 2006: 114–63, 261–88. Nepos also cites this same year, 65 BCE, as when he believes that Atticus returned to Rome after over two decades in Athens (whence he earned his cognomen). His expression of uncertainty (ut opinor, Att. 4.5) about the date, however, suggests that he and Atticus were not yet familiar personally (Geiger 1985a: 262). 13. For the evidence in brief, see Schanz and Hosius 1927: 1.351–52; Rolfe 1929: 355–59 (= Rolfe 1984: vii–xi); Horsfall 1982: 845. Conte 1994: 221–23 and Stadter 2007: 532–33 interpret the evidence well but do not cite it. Albrecht 1997: 476–88 surveys more fully and includes discussion of bibliography. Geiger 1985b: 66–116 is the best and most complete contextualization of Nepos' life and works, though the evidence is discussed in the service of Geiger's thesis for Nepos' originality as a political biographer and is

not always simple to extract (see further chapter 3 in the present study). 14. Wiseman 1969 argues that all of Catullus' datable poems fall between 56 and 54 BCE; Wiseman 1985a: 190–91 gives the evidence for the conventional dates of Catullus' life (84–54 BCE). See further Gaisser 2009: 2–6. 15. Suggested by Horsfall 1989: 7 (see also 12). 16. On Atticus as a historical researcher, see Münzer 1905; Peter 1906: xx–xxviiii, 6–8; Douglas 1966: lii; Sumner 1973: 161–76; Rawson 1985: 100–104, 231–32; Geiger 1985b: 69–71, 82; Millar 1988: 48–52; Horsfall 1989: 39–40, 99–102, 124; A. Marshall 1993; Welch 1996: 468–70; Osgood 2006: 293; Geiger 2008: 36–40. Much of the basis for the high scholarly opinion of Atticus' chronological work comes from Cicero's praise and use of it: Brut. 13–19, 42, 44, 72, 74; Orat. 120, ad Att. 12.23.2; Nepos' praise at Att. 18 deserves equally careful study. For the relationship of Varro to Atticus and Nepos, see Rawson 1985: passim; Geiger 1985b: 81–82; Horsfall 1989: xvi; Griffin 1994: 701–15; Geiger 1998: 308; Titchener 2003: 92–96; Feeney 2007: 20–28; Geiger 2008: 36–48. 17. The great edition of these letters is Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: see 1.3–59 for an account of the two men based on their correspondence (and Nepos' Atticus). For Atticus' practice of politics, see Perlwitz 1992; Welch 1996. 18. On the structure of the Atticus, see further Horsfall 1989: 9–10; Lindsay 1998: 325–26; Stem 2005: 116–20. 19. Vice, by comparison, usually plays a much smaller role, for it is awarded only limited didactic value: see Plutarch, Demetrius 1 (with Pelling 1988: 10–18 and Duff 1999: 45–49, 5661). Valerius Maximus, likewise, primarily (but not exclusively) pushes the presentation of vices to the last of the nine books in his Memorable Deeds and Sayings (see Skidmore 1996: 79–81; Morgan 2007: 149–51). 20. See further Millar 1988. Atticus was also very involved in financial affairs, his own and those of his friends (e.g., Att. 15.3). Rauh 1986, while centered on Cicero, documents the range of activities involved. Nepos plays down these affairs in the Atticus: see Horsfall 1989: 92–93. 21. The fragments are collected at Shackleton Bailey 1988: 167–68; see Geiger 1985a: 264–67 for discussion. Nicholson 1998: 76–78 demonstrates that the number of lost (but attested) books of Ciceronian letters equals or surpasses the number of books now extant (see also White 2010: 171). Macrobius (Sat. 2.1.14) explicitly cites from the second book of Cicero's letters to Nepos (in libro epistularum ad Cornelium Nepotem secundo). The other references are more vague and do not necessarily demonstrate firsthand knowledge of the collection. Ogilvie 1978: 38, e.g., doubts that Nepos' replies were included and believes that Lactantius mined from Seneca his quotation of such a letter to Cicero. 22. The whole of Iul. 55 discusses Caesar as an orator. Suetonius first cites Cicero's Brutus (55.1), then says that Cicero also “wrote to Cornelius Nepos about the same man [Caesar] as follows” (et ad Cornelius Nepotem de eodem ita scripsit, 55.2). 23. So Geiger 1985a: 265. I have translated the last two sentences of the Suetonius passage in the past tense on the assumption that it is to be dated after Caesar's death. See Nicholson 1998: 94–97 for further evidence of Suetonius' use of Cicero's letters. 24. See further Cic., Brut. 251–62; Quint. 10.1.114; Leeman 2001. 25. Amm. 21.16.12: Utque recte sentientes quidam arbitrabantur, virtutis erat potius indicium magnum, imperio eundem Constantium sine cruore cessisse, quam vindicasse tam inclementer. For the exemplary function of this passage within Ammianus, see G. Kelly 2008: 280–81. 26. Did Nepos suggest that Caesar was lucky (felix) and Cicero object that happiness (felicitas) required honorable designs, not merely luck? Note Geiger 1985a: 265. 27. Octavian is described in similar terms at Att. 19.3: “such great prosperitas befell Caesar that fortuna granted him everything that it had bestowed upon anyone before” (tanta enim prosperitas Caesarem est consecuta, ut nihil ei non tribuerit fortuna, quod cuiquam ante detulerit). About Cicero's ultimate criteria, however, Nepos is silent. Were Octavian's designs honorable? Did he find happiness? Millar 1998: 52 notes the careful neutrality of the language of this passage. 28. See Long 1995. 29. Consider, e.g., how Cicero commiserates with Sulpicius Rufus in April of 49 about the challenges of choosing one's course in a civil war: “Neither the examples of the most distinguished men, whom we ought to be like, nor the precepts of the most learned men, whom you have always cultivated, escape you” (nec

enim clarissimorum virorum, quorum similes esse debemus, exempla neque doctissimorum, quos semper coluisti, praecepta te fugiunt, ad fam. 4.1 [SB 150].1). The exempla are listed first, but the praecepta inform their understanding. See further ad fam. 4.3 [SB 202].3, where Cicero praises Sulpicius for learning all the things handed down from the wisest men “in order to live well” (ad bene vivendum). Expressed as such, this sentiment is not all that different from Nepos in Att. 17.3 (note also De Orat. 3.137 and Leg. 3.30–32, with Zetzel 2003). Likewise, Quint. 12.2 recognizes the value of studying philosophy but ultimately (12.2.30) regards Roman exempla as greater (maius) than Greek praecepta. 30. Tusc. 2.12: sic philosophus in vitae ratione peccans hoc turpior est, quod in officio, cuius magister esse vult, labitur artemque vitae professus delinquit in vita. 31. Tusc. 2.13: “Just as a field, however fertile, is unable to be fruitful without cultivation, so is a soul without learning: each is weak without the other. Philosophy, however, is the cultivation of the soul” (ut ager quamvis fertilis sine cultura fructuosus esse non potest, sic sine doctrina animus; ita est utraque res sine altera debilis. cultura autem animi philosophia est). 32. Horsfall 1989: 7 reasons that since Nepos' Atticus is fuller after 49 BCE, perhaps Nepos was closer to Atticus in those years. If Nepos then met Cicero through Atticus in the forties, it would also explain why the extant evidence for their relationship all appears to date from that decade. See further Geiger 1985a: 261–63. 33. Lindsay 1998: 333 n. 47 comments, “Perhaps Nepos would have liked Atticus less if he had been more of a philosopher and less of an historian.” On the absence of Atticus' Epicureanism from the Atticus, see Griffin 1986: 67 with 76 nn. 6–7 (and Griffin 1997: 18); Horsfall 1989: 12–13, 73, 80, 97–98; Perlwitz 1992: 90–97; Lindsay 1998. In Cicero's philosophical corpus, however, Atticus appears as a speaker in De Legibus, De Finibus, and the second edition of the Academica. 34. See Att. 5.3–4 (Cicero and Hortensius), 20.1–5 (Octavian and Antony). Moles 1993b: 78 stresses the connection between these two passages. 35. See Titchener 2003: 95–96. Tyrrell and Purser 1904–33: 6.41 (see further 4.482, 5.165) assumes that Nepos' son had died, for male de recurs in the correspondence as a somewhat formulaic way of lamenting a death. 36. See Dougan 1905: xvi–xix for the dating of the composition of the Tusculans, and see Powell 1995: xiii–xvii for the overall chronology of Cicero's philosophic corpus. 37. Odyssey 11.470 = 11.551 = 24.18 = Iliad 17.280. Iliad 2.674 is also identical to the four lines just cited, but Nireus is here being compared to Achilles. At Odyssey 8.116–17 the formula is varied, and Euryalus is ranked second of the Phaeacians to Laodamas. Titchener 2003: 95 n. 33 notes that and appear nowhere else in Cicero's corpus and that references to Achilles and Ajax elsewhere in Cicero's corpus (which she lists) are not helpful for understanding the use of this tag to Atticus. For other Homeric quotations in Cicero's letters, see Wiseman 1985a: 10–12; White 2010: 108–10. On Cicero's use of Greek in his letters, see Jocelyn 1973: 64–65; Swain 2002; Adams 2003: 308–47. 38. Tyrrell and Purser 1904–33: 5.379 and Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 6.284–85 (followed by Geiger 1985a: 266) posit more specific comparisons of Cicero, Atticus, and Nepos as historians (i.e., as to who was Ajax to whose Achilles), though both also stress that the point is obscure. 39. See further Geiger 1985a: 268–69. I see no evidence whatsoever for the claim at Jenkinson 1967: 14 n. 7 that Nepos' Cicero “seems to have been quite critical in parts.” At 1967: 1, in the sentence to which this footnote is appended, she describes the biography “as an act of homage after the orator's death.” 40. The dating formula Gellius uses here is annos iam septem atque viginti natus (15.28.3), which could be construed as meaning twenty-seven years old. (Quint. 12.6.4, e.g., probably means twenty-six years old when he says that Cicero delivered the Pro Roscio when sex et viginti natus annos.) But Gellius' naming of the consuls clearly dates Cicero's birth in what we would call 106 BCE and the delivery of the Pro Roscio in 80 BCE, twenty-six years later. Hence he must be counting inclusively, so that 80 BCE is Cicero's twentyseventh year, but before his twenty-seventh birthday on 3 January 79. At 15.28.6, when attributing the same age (pari aetate) to Demosthenes and Cicero, he describes Demosthenes as septem et viginti annos natus and Cicero as anno…septimo et vicesimo. Nepos' error, says Gellius, is to have cut Cicero's age by a quadriennium (15.28.5), thus making him twenty-two (which he would have been in 84 BCE) at the delivery of the Pro Roscio. See further Kinsey 1967: 61–62, who cites Badian 1955: 107 and 117 n. 3 for a similar resolution of a chronological confusion regarding the date of Pompey's first triumph.

41. Holford-Strevens 2003: 162 rightly comments that Gellius imputes this motive to Nepos “without disapprobation.” Valuing friendship more than truth, it seems, is obfuscatory but not vicious. Nepos particularly characterizes Atticus as always loyal to his friends (Stem 2005). 42. Gellius concludes this chapter (28.15.6–7) by recording that Demosthenes and Cicero were both thought to have delivered their first famous speeches in their twenty-seventh year. But Demosthenes seems to have been in his thirtieth year when he delivered Against Androtion (see Phillips 2008: 105 n. 61), so Gellius himself is likely inaccurate. 43. See Cic., Rosc. Am. 11, 21–22, 28. For the setting and strategies of the speech, see Vasaly 2002: 71–82; Dyck 2010: 1–19 (for the dating of the trial, see Dyck 2010: 4, 75). For Sulla's activities in 83–80 BCE, see Keaveney 2005: 108–67. 44. Geiger 1985a: 262 believes that Nepos' mistake must involve the date of the Pro Roscio and that this mistake indicates that he did not yet know Cicero personally. I find it difficult to accept that any historical writer who had lived through the civil wars of the eighties could place the Pro Roscio in 84 out of sheer carelessness. But perhaps Nepos was sufficiently secluded in the eighties in Transalpine Gaul, nowhere near Rome, that his chronology of that decade was loose enough for him not to realize the impossibility of Cicero delivering the speech in 84. 45. It cannot be said for certain that Gellius did read Nepos' Cicero, though to me (with Geiger 1985a: 268), his comments read like he had. Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 58 argues that it was Suetonius who collected the opinions of Nepos, Asconius, and Fenestella for his Cicero in his On Famous Men, which Gellius just copied wholesale, but Holford-Strevens 2003: 167 n. 48 finds that Gellius may have consulted Nepos and Suetonius. Gellius certainly read Nepos' Chronica when compiling his own chronological summary (17.21), and his was the type of curiosity to find the Cicero and take note of Nepos' mistake. 46. In other words, Gellius does not find this chronological mistake typical, which draws all the more attention to it. Thus Rawson 1985: 231 (also Horsfall 1989: 118) is unfair, I think, when she projects this mistake as representative of Nepos' whole corpus: “Nepos was not a careful scholar; he even manages to…get Cicero's age wrong.” 47. Marshall fr. 58. Its context is described at P. K. Marshall 1977b: 8–9, and its content is assessed at Geiger 1985a: 267 and Rawson 1985: 217. Its content suggests that Nepos was inspired by Cic., Leg. 1.5, on which see Robinson 1940 and Dyck 2004: 30–31, 72–74. 48. A second shorter excerpt from the same context suggests that Nepos attributed Cicero's failure to write history to the intervention of Nature itself (= Marshall fr. 58b): “wealthy and divine Nature—so that she might produce greater admiration for herself, and so that her own benefits would be more evenly apportioned—wished neither to give all things to one man nor, on the other hand, to deny all things to anyone” (locuples ac divina natura, quo maiorem sui pareret admirationem ponderatioraque sua essent beneficia, neque uni omnia dare nec rursus cuiquam omnia voluit negare). In the Atticus, however, and hence within On Latin Historians, Nepos presents Octavian winning fortune's favor in a way Cicero did not: “such great prosperity befell Caesar that fortune granted him everything that it had bestowed upon anyone before, and procured for him what no Roman citizen up to that time had been able to obtain” (tanta enim prosperitas Caesarem est consecuta, ut nihil ei non tribuerit fortuna, quod cuiquam ante detulerit, et conciliarit, quod nemo adhuc civis Romanus quivit consequi, 19.3). 49. Nepos' striking silence about the relationship of Cicero and Atticus during the proscriptions, combined with the loss (destruction?) of their correspondence in the final year of Cicero's life, means that “we do not know whether or not [Atticus] made any forlorn attempt to save Cicero” (Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 1.56). Nepos emphasizes instead (Att. 10.2–5) how Atticus saved the otherwise unknown Q. Gellius Canus, who is described as the one Atticus held dearest (quem carissimum habebat, 10.5). For the rhetoric involved in Nepos' presentation of that act, see Stem 2005: 122–26. 50. For a clear statement of this view by Cicero himself, see ad Att. 1.17 [SB 17].5–7. 51. Nepos characterizes the range of these letters as “from [Cicero's] consulship all the way down to the final period of his life” (ab consulatu eius usque ad extremum tempus, Att. 16.3), whereas the extant collection contains eleven letters earlier than Cicero's consulship and none from the last year of his life. Hence Nepos may simply have been careless, but it seems more likely to me that the letters from Cicero's final year were suppressed after his death—perhaps for their discussions of Octavian (see Nicholson 1998: 85) or because of Atticus' disapproval of the tenor of Cicero's fight against Antony (see Horsfall 1989:

76)—and that the first eleven, which are not properly ordered chronologically, were added later from some other source. See the reconstruction of Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 1.69–73. 52. On the date of publication of Cicero's Letters to Atticus, the definitive statement is Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 1.59–76. He finds the absence of any reference to the letters in Asconius to be significant, whereas Seneca quotes from their first book (Epist. 97.3–6 quotes ad Att. 1.16, and 118.1–2 quotes 1.12; note also the claim of Epist. 21.4, with Nicholson 1998: 72), and thus the letters were first published in the Neronian period. Yet the silence of Asconius is not necessarily conclusive (B. A. Marshall 1985: 46–50), and other cracks in the argument allow for the possibility of private consultation of the letters, even if they were not properly published (Setaioli 1976; Hutchinson 1998: 4; Marchesi 2008: 208–9). Nicholson 1998: 63–87 outlines a model in which the letters were able to be consulted by a select interested few but “there never was any definitive, monolithic publication at all” (65). Beard 2002: 116–19, however, finds that Nicholson has “too hard a head” (119 n. 51). White 2010: 174–75 reasonably proposes an Augustan date. 53. Taylor 1964, tentatively supported by Gratwick 2002: 307 n. 10. With Nicholson 1998: 73–82, however, I find Tiro and Atticus to be better candidates. White 2010: 31–61 demonstrates how significantly the editor of the epistolary corpus, whoever he was, has shaped how we now read the letters. 54. Fronto, ad M. Caesarem 1.7.4 (Haines 1919: 1.166–69; van den Hout 1988: 15), refers to manuscripts of Cicero's works “either edited by Tiro or transcribed by Domitius Balbus or by Atticus or Nepos” (aut a Tirone emendata aut a Domitio Balbo descripta aut ab Attico aut Nepote). Zetzel 1973: 241–43 too easily assumes that all these copies were forgeries and that the evidence is thus worthless. Some involvement with particular copies of particular works of Cicero should be regarded as verified from this evidence, but which works and what precise role Nepos played can only be speculation. See further Geiger 1985a: 270; van den Hout 1999: 40–42. Gratwick 2002: 307–8 (see further 310–11, 314–19) argues that this evidence gives more weight to the expression of Catullus' desire at the end of his dedicatory poem to Nepos that his book live on for more than one age (Elder 1966: 147 also suggests that Catullus would have regarded Nepos' friends Atticus and Cicero as influential aids to the same end). 55. Titchener 2003: 95 suggests that Cicero's use of the term immortal ( ) at ad Att. 16.5.5 might be comparable to the modern use of the term angels to denote prominent financial supporters of the arts. Hence it refers to Nepos' work as a publisher and explains his interest in Cicero's latest works. 56. So, e.g., White 2010: 32. Another possibility is that Nepos seeks a collection of Cicero's witty sayings (dicta), given that Macrobius (Sat. 2.1.14) quotes from a letter of Cicero to Nepos in which Cicero distinguishes what should count as dicta out of all the things one actually says. See further Geiger 1985a: 267; Nicholson 1998: 67–68. 57. Note ad Att. 9.10 [SB 177].4, with Shackleton Bailey 1965–70: 1.59–60. Yet see further White 2010: 183 n. 24, 188 n. 9. 58. Horsfall 1982: 292 (see also 1989: 96; Jenkinson 1967: 10–11 and 1973: 714) judges this passage “the grossest of Nepos' many absurd exaggerations,” and in his rush to condemn it, he does not examine it very closely. Momigliano 1971: 97–98 praises Nepos for recognizing the historical value of the letters to Atticus, though Titchener 2003: 94 notes the damning faintness of the manner of his praise. 59. Compare, e.g., Cic., Leg. 3.30–32. 60. For the connection between prudence and providence and on Cicero's uneven record at achieving it, see White 2010: 123–24. For Cicero's pessimism about the Republic's future, see White 2010: 168 (with 221 n. 1). 61. See further Moles 1993b: 79, who notes the parallels with Horace, Odes 2.1.2–4 (and thus a possible connection to Asinius Pollio), as well as with the “motif of the Republican Cassandra figure” in Plutarch's Brutus and Caesar. 62. Cicero, e.g., makes two apparently disparaging comments about “neoteric” poets, at ad Att. 7.2 [SB 125].1 (where he uses the term ; he also refers to the “new poets” [poetae novi] at Orat. 161) and Tusc. 3.45 (“the singers of Euphorion,” cantores Euphorionis). See further Lyne 1978; Hollis 2007: 1–2. Catullus 49 seems to return the favor (though, as with Catullus 1, sincerity can exist in colors between black and white: note, e.g., White 2010: 99–100). Hence the point to stress, with Wiseman 1979: 156–57 and Horsfall 1993, is that someone of Cicero's circle might well resist the literary attitudes of someone in Catullus' circle, even though they were each deeply engaged in the literary culture of the late Republic (for two approaches to the overlapping place of Cicero and Catullus in that culture, see Krostenko 2001; Stroup

2010). Knox 2011 makes an important contribution by demonstrating how Cicero was indeed a Hellenistic poet, but not an Alexandrian one like Catullus. Nepos and Catullus should likewise be viewed within overlapping but not identical Hellenistic traditions. 63. Horsfall 1989: 86 emphasizes how surprising it is that we have no other record of the poet Calidus, given that Lucretius and Catullus are indeed the two poets still extant from the period. 64. See, e.g., Copley 1951: 205 (compare Gratwick 2002: 311); Jenkinson 1973: 704: “the somewhat stolid Nepos was destined to be always worsted in such brushes with his livelier contemporaries.” Horsfall 1982: 290 is equally dismissive, but Horsfall 1989: xvi is more measured and claims to be unable to draw conclusions about “the tone and temper” of Nepos' relations with Cicero. For more favorable readings of the evidence, see Geiger 1985a (unfairly dismissed by Horsfall 1989: xvi n. 10 as “overheated polemic”); Titchener 2003: 94–96. 65. In the prefaces to his philosophical works (e.g., Off. 2.2–6), Cicero regularly acknowledges the Roman prejudice against the study of philosophy and justifies himself against it. See further Rawson 1985: 95 and esp. Griffin 1997, and note Tacitus, Agr. 4.3. Murphy 1998 articulates how Cicero was concerned to secure aristocratic readers for his philosophical treatises and how he was guided in doing so by political considerations at least as much as by personal friendships. Cicero recognized that widespread cultural acceptance of his treatises could not be assumed. Thus, even though a reader's resistance to the value of their teachings would plausibly strain Cicero's friendship with that reader, I doubt that it would have caused him to dissolve the friendship altogether. Horsfall 1989: 119 tends to the melodramatic when he rhetorically asks, “Was [Nepos] the piece of grit in the smooth relations between Atticus and Cicero?” 66. Adams 2003: 313–16 discusses, e.g., how Cicero's letters to Papirius Paetus (ad fam. 9.15–26) are full of intimate banter but relatively devoid of the Greek banter that characterizes letters to Atticus. He convincingly attributes the difference to the cultural attitudes of the addressee: Paetus, although a wealthy Epicurean like Atticus, preferred old Roman values to Greek ones (ad fam. 9.15 [SB 196].2). The example demonstrates how Cicero played different roles to his many different correspondents (see further Hutchinson 1998: 20–24 and esp. Griffin 1995, for Cicero's epistolary badinage across the philosophical spectrum). His skill at engaging the interests of his correspondent suggests that he would not have excluded Nepos because he refused to value philosophy in the same way that he himself did. White 2010: 105 (and 208–9) likewise notes how Cicero modulates discussion of literary matters in his correspondence in accordance with the perceived interest of his addressee. 67. Jenkinson 1973: 704, answered by Geiger 1985a: 261. 68. Horsfall 1989: xvi n. 10 (and 1982: 290). So also Jenkinson 1973: 704 (referring to “undoubted sarcasm”). Damon 1993:1 finds Cicero here to be “less than gracious,” but she posits the tension as partially political, based on Nepos' apparent endorsement of Atticus' refusal to aid Brutus' party and his refusal to deny aid to Antony's family (Att. 8–9). I would read both of those actions as evidence of Nepos' praise for Atticus' neutrality between (and above) both sides, not as expressions of anti-Ciceronian politics (Stem 2005: 122–26). 69. Geiger 1985a: 263: “[W]ith no axe to grind one will take the phrase at face-value—or at least face-value with proper deductions for Ciceronian pleasantry. Incidentally the elusive Atticus…in this passage alone gives us his opinion about his friend.” 70. This point is rightly stressed by Titchener 2003: 95, who offers her own interpretation. 71. Adams 2003: 333 notes that Cicero often “switches into Greek in alluding to characteristics of his own which might be construed as faults,” and from ad Att. 16.5.5, he cites ea quibus maxime (“those works in which I especially take pride”) as an example of how Cicero switches into Greek to distance himself from his pride (ad Att. 1.14.4 is a comparable passage to add to Adams' list). I suggest that the Homeric allusion in ad Att. 16.5.5 has the same distancing strategy, but now due to the fact that Cicero's pride has been wounded. 72. For Greek precedents (not entirely comparable) and the early Roman exemplary tradition, see Geiger 1985b: 73; Skidmore 1996: 35–46; Chaplin 2000: 1–31; Morgan 2007: 122–26. 73. On Nepos' Exempla, see Geiger 1985b: 72–77; Horsfall 1989: xvii–xviii; Skidmore 1996: 46–47. For the fragments, see P. K. Marshall 1977a: 102–8. 74. Charisius 1 p. 185.24 Barwick (= Marshall fr. 10), in which Nepos is said to have written a virgine Vestale instead of Vestali because he was not denoting a person but a thing.

75. Marshall fr. 12 includes Gellius 6.18.2–11, but only 6.18.11 is attributed to Nepos. 76. E.g., Arist., Rhetoric 2.20; [Cic.], ad Her. 4.59–62; Cic., Inv. 1.49; Quint. 5.11. See further Maslakov 1984: 439–40 n. 5; Lausberg 1998: 196–203 (§§ 410–26); Chaplin 2000: 5–6. For Cicero's habits in using exempla, see Oppermann 2000; Blom 2010; Smith and Corvino 2011. 77. For the date of Valerius' work, see the honest discussion of Carter 1975: 30–34. On the value of Valerius' exemplarity, Bloomer 1992 is fundamental. See further Maslakov 1984; Skidmore 1996; Wardle 1998: 1–20; Mueller 2002: 1–20; Gowing 2005: 49–66; Morgan 2007: 122–59; Lobur 2008: 170–207. Kempf 1854: 26–34 compiles a list of Valerius' “mistakes” (just as Unger 1882: 146–51 does for Nepos' biographies). 78. For Nepos' Exempla as an antecedent to Valerius' work, see Litchfield 1914: 62–63; Maslakov 1984: 450–54; Geiger 1985b: 74; Skidmore 1996: 46–48; Wardle 1998: 15–16. Intervening and possibly similar collections are the Exempla of Hyginus (attested at Gellius 10.18.7; see further Kaster 1995: 207) and the Collecta of Pomponius Rufus (attested at Val. Max. 4.4.pref.; see further Bloomer 1992: 138–40, 143). 79. See, e.g., Livy, Pref. 10, with Kraus and Woodman 1997: 51–56. Mueller 2002: 6–9 and Lobur 2008: 171–76 survey the prevalence of exempla in Valerius' Tiberian Rome. 80. See Quint. 12.1.1, with Skidmore 1996: 22–25. Yet Skidmore 1996 overemphasizes the ethical utility of Valerius and downplays his declamatory utility, while Bloomer 1992 does the opposite. I would merge their emphases, though with more of Bloomer's perspective than Skidmore's (note Maslakov 1984: 455–56). Wardle 1998: 13–15 would also blend the two motives, though more in favor of Skidmore. Lobur 2008: 198–207 suggests examples in which Valerius' presentation resonated with contemporary politics. 81. See further, e.g., Fornara 1983: 104–20; Marincola 1997: 19–33. 82. See further Berry 2004. See also Cic., Verr. 2.3.209; Quint. 12.2.29–31. 83. Geiger 1980. P. K. Marshall 1977a had already placed it in On Famous Men (as fr. 62), contrary to Peter 1906: 30 (fr. 5) and Malcovati 1964: 185 (fr. 15), who attributed it to the Exempla. 84. See Diog. Laert. 6.85–93 for Crates and 6.96–98 for Hipparchia. For Augustine's feeling about Crates' act in this passage, see City of God 14.20. 85. For the propriety of Mela's title, see Romer 1998: 4–5. Marshall fr. 18 (= Pliny, NH 3.125) invokes Nepos for a synchronization of events and would seem better attributed to the Chronica (see Münzer 1897: 334–35). 86. See Peter 1906: liii-liiii, 30–32; Malcovati 1964: 186–89; P. K. Marshall 1977a: 105–6. 87. Proponents of a separate geographical work: Jenkinson 1973: 704; Geiger 1985b: 72–77; Horsfall 1989: xv–xviii; Skidmore 1996: 46–47; Chaplin 2000: 170 n. 10; Stroup 2010: 280. Wiseman 1979: 159–66 would add a discussion of geography to the Chronica. 88. Münzer 1897: 322–33 advances this thesis; Geiger 1985b: 72–75 rebuts it (see also Skidmore 1996: 45–46, 124 n. 3). 89. For their attribution to Nepos, see the notes of Malcovati 1964: 181–84. 90. NH 13.104 (= Marshall fr. 29) discusses the African lotus tree, citing Nepos for the size of the fruit, how it is eaten, and how long wine made from it will keep (perhaps better attributed to a geographical presentation of Africa: see Marshall fr. 22 and 25). NH 16.36 (= Marshall fr. 30) cites Nepos for the fact that Rome was roofed with wooden shingles all the way down to the war with Pyrrhus, a period of 470 years (ad Pyrrhi usque bellum annis CCCCLXX), a fact perhaps better placed in the Chronica: compare Gellius 17.21.37, with Münzer 1897: 325. NH 35.16 (= Marshall fr. 32) invokes Nepos for the identification of an Ecphantus who followed Damaratus, the father of Tarquinius Priscus, when he fled from the Corinthian tyrant Cypselus, an identification that is explicitly not to Pliny's purpose in the passage at hand and that suggests a synchronizing of Corinthian and Roman events better understood in the Chronica (Rawson 1985: 199–200 sees Nepos' art historical interests in this passage, but these, too, may well belong to the Chronica, where developments in literary arts were certainly charted: see Marshall fr. 4 and 7). 91. Marshall fr. 26, 28, 31, 33, 34. 92. As Howe 1985 argues, Pliny had his own moral purposes for the Natural History, so I would read the likely moralizing of Nepos' Exempla as a spur to Pliny rather than retroject Pliny's encyclopedic habits back onto Nepos. 93. So Geiger 1985b: 82–83. For the moral reputation Cato established early in his lifetime, see Plut., Cato Min. 16–19; Cic., Mur. 58–66 (though the Cicero passage is arguably disingenuous: compare Craig 1986;

Stem 2006). 94. See further Osgood 2006: 319–20 for the triumviral context. 95. See Cicero, ad Att. 1.18 [SB 18].6, 1.20 [SB 20].3, 2.1 [SB 21].7. 96. Cicero also employs the phrase “ruined everything” (omnia perdiderunt) at ad Att. 1.16 [SB 16].5 (perdere omnia) and 14.1 [SB 355].1 (perisse omnia, quoting Caesar's friend Matius). 97. Tatum 2007: 337 lists over thirty Catullan poems that attack perceived sexual misconduct. For the importance of upholding one's oaths, see (along with 76) Catullus 30, 87, and 109. 98. On Catullus 76, see Godwin 1999: 190–93; Skinner 2003: 73–77. 99. Text of Thomson 1997: 116–17 (defended at 278–81). 100. For other attacks on Mamurra in Catullus, see poems 57 and, as the likely Mentula (note 29.13, with Skinner 2003: 112–13, 139–41), 94, 105, 114, and 115; for attacks on his girlfriend, see poems 41 and 43. See further Fordyce 1961: 160; Scott 1971; Skinner 1979; Wray 2001: 171–77; Konstan 2007 (esp. 84–85 on Nepos); Tatum 2007. 101. Suet., Iul. 73 (a chapter explaining how Caesar avoided enmity wherever possible): “After Caesar did not hide his recognition that perpetual infamy had been placed upon him by Catullus' verses about Mamurra, Catullus apologized, and Caesar invited him to dinner on the same day” (Catullum, a quo sibi versiculis de Mamurra perpetua stigmata imposita non dissimulaverat, satis facientem eadem die adhibuit cenae). 102. This passage provides the only significant termimus post quem for the date of the Exempla: after Mamurra became wealthy in Gaul over the course of the fifties (see Geiger 1985b: 73–74; for the date of Catullus 29, see Konstan 2007: 73–74). (If, however, one attributes to the Exempla Marshall fr. 62, which describes Octavian's drinking habits while on campaign near Mutina, then the terminus post quem becomes 43.) The work is customarily dated in between the Chronica (written well before Catullus 1: note iam tum in 1.5) and the extant portions of On Famous Men, dated from the Atticus to the latter half of the thirties. This chronology of Nepos' corpus thus also deduces that he progressed from anecdotal exempla to anecdotal biography. 103. Evidence that Pliny the Elder had himself contemplated the relationship between Catullus and Nepos can be found in the fact that he reworked Catullus' dedication poem to Nepos at the opening of the Natural History's dedicatory preface to Emperor Vespasian. See further Howe 1985: 567–69; Gaisser 1993: 10–11; Marchesi 2008: 55–56; Morello 2011. Pliny's contemporary Quintilian also knew poem 29, for he quotes its opening two lines as an example of iambi (9.4.141). 104. Compare Livy, Pref. 12: “Wealth and abundant pleasures have recently introduced greed: a longing to be ruined and to ruin all things through luxury and desire” (nuper divitiae avaritiam et abundantes voluptates desiderium per luxum atque libidinem pereundi perdendique omnia invexere).

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CHAPTER 3 Nepos the Political Biographer The great majority of Nepos' corpus is lost, and the evidence for each of his works is not without uncertainties, yet certain features repeatedly emerge. Innovation in literary form is one such feature, while another is the embedding of moral and political judgments in literary forms that need not, in themselves, be political. When we examine Nepos' extant corpus—especially On Foreign Generals—with these larger considerations in mind, we can confirm how tightly these two features are bound together. This chapter works closely with the scholarship that first identified these features, from which I argue for a new synthesis.

On Foreign Generals and the Invention of Political Biography The fresh start in Nepotian criticism came in 1985, with Joseph Geiger's monograph Cornelius Nepos and Ancient Political Biography. For Horsfall, “Nepos' sole importance to us lies in the accident of his survival as the earliest Latin biographer.”1 But Geiger turns this accidental status on its head and argues that the reason no earlier text like Nepos' has survived is because no such text existed before his: Nepos invented the genre of political biography. Geiger's brief but vigorous book develops in two halves. He first sifts the evidence for Hellenistic biography in order to challenge the earlier assumption that Nepos' On Foreign Generals was but a Latin rewrite of existing biographical collections similar to his. While Hellenistic biographies of intellectual and literary figures in serial form are well attested, as are encomiastic and/or historical monographs centered on individual figures, no conclusive evidence exists before Nepos for serial political biography of the sort that Nepos Page 97 → and Plutarch write.2 The second half of the book contextualizes Nepos' literary habits throughout his life and demonstrates how he was in the right place at the right time to invent political biography. Geiger does not defend the historical value of the contents of Nepos' On Foreign Generals, nor does he laud the excellence of their biographical form, but he argues that Nepos' corpus consistently demonstrates innovations in form and subject matter that make his invention of political biography plausible.3 Geiger's thesis has received little direct scholarly attention, and its most detailed evaluation is openly inconclusive.4 The sparse evidence for Hellenistic biography makes firm conclusions difficult, particularly regarding arguments from silence and questions of generic definition. But Geiger's study of Nepos' corpus is perceptive, and his thesis ultimately holds up under scrutiny, albeit in a more limited form than initially proposed. The more clearly successful part of the book is its second half, where the meager extant remains of Nepos' entire corpus are put into an illuminating larger context. As Catullus stressed (1.5–7), Nepos' Chronica was the first of its kind, the first to integrate Greek and Roman political and literary events into a comprehensive and comprehensible Mediterranean framework. His Exempla is likewise the first known such collection in Latin. The comparative structure of On Famous Men—Roman versus non-Roman—is unprecedented for a biographical collection and prioritizes the same Mediterranean focus engineered in the Chronica.5 The innovative aspects of Nepos' writings are consistent, even if the works themselves were later superseded by others.6 Geiger's presentation of Nepos as “industrious, inquisitive, constantly on the lookout for a Page 98 → new theme, never shrinking from an innovation, always ready to adapt Greek literary genres and traditions to Roman circumstances and his personal preferences,” successfully transforms him from a belittled minor figure into an author who repays study because he is likely trying to do something interesting.7 It becomes reasonable to believe that such an author could have been the first to incorporate political figures into a serial biographical format already long established for philosophers and literary figures. Geiger has done for Nepos relative to the genre of biography what Wiseman did for Nepos relative to Catullus: made a plausible case for the legitimacy of Nepos as a significant literary figure of the late Republic.8 As before, however, some dissonance arises from the juxtaposition of the plausible with the actual execution of the text as we have it.9 Geiger recognizes this challenge and answers it directly: “If, in the course of [Nepos'] literary career, he

showed haste, lack of precision and little critical faculty, these shortcomings must be balanced against the undoubted services of his innovations to Roman literature.”10 But Geiger then undermines his defense of Nepos' innovative record by postulating that the idea for the addition of biographies on generals at the end of On Famous Men originated with Atticus.11 Nepos himself, Geiger concludes, was “possibly unaware of the importance of his innovation,” and the crucial act of literary and historiographic invention that Geiger postulates for Nepos' On Foreign Generals ends up as the fluke of a fortuitous friendship.12 Such a claim is inconsistent with his earlier characterization of Nepos as “never shrinking from an innovation,” and it is a disappointing Page 99 → retreat to the older view of Nepos as necessarily the weakest member of his intellectual set.13 The idea that it was Atticus who first urged Nepos to include generals in On Famous Men is certainly possible, given their personal friendship and their overlapping research interests, but it is entirely speculative. More pertinent is how convincingly Geiger demonstrates that Nepos' own published record up to On Foreign Generals reveals the same focus on innovative ways of promoting historical and cultural comparison that explains the apparent novelty of our extant collection. Catullus emphasizes Nepos' priority and daring in composing the Chronica, which suggests that Nepos himself was equally aware of its novelty. It is unnecessary, even contradictory, to allow that he was unaware of the literary and generic traditions (or lack thereof) behind his own writings. Hence Geiger's thesis, although perceptive in many ways, still has room for refinement. But first it must be defended against the quietly developing consensus that rejects it. Criticism clusters around three main points, which are of unequal weight in my view; hence I will evaluate each of them individually. I will then raise a fourth problem, but I will do so in order to clarify Geiger's argument and thereby revive its core premise in a more restricted version. The first point of criticism is that Geiger's is an argument from silence. The evidence for Hellenistic biography is mostly lost, and what exists is so fragmentary that it cannot support definitive claims about the origins of political biography. For skeptics of Geiger's thesis, even if no extant evidence openly contradicts it, too much evidence is known to be lost to be able to accept the conclusion easily, and too many pieces of fragmentary evidence are suggestive of possible counterarguments. Different critics point to different candidates as possible predecessors to Nepos, but the individual examples are less significant than the fact that Geiger cannot comprehensively dismiss them (just as none of them can conclusively disprove Geiger's argument).14 Geiger anticipates this problem and argues that even though nothing survives intact, Hellenistic literary and intellectual biography are well enough attested that the absence of any such evidence for political biography makes the silence significant. That silence becomes louder, in his view, when historical monographs about individuals are likewise attested but biographies are not.15 Page 100 → The issue becomes on which side the burden of proof falls. Christopher Tuplin, for example, walks his readers through his own review of the evidence in order to test Geiger's thesis and finds that “the external case for Geiger's central claim about Nepos' novelty is certainly not demonstrably false.” John Moles and Timothy Duff judge that there is simply insufficient evidence to reach Geiger's conclusion in the first place.16 I side with Geiger and Tuplin. It must be admitted that the evidence is extremely limited and his argument highly circumstantial, but aporia about the origins of political biography has less value than the effort to make the best sense out of the evidence we have.17 If the only proposed alternative to Geiger's thesis is to say that we do not have the evidence to know the truth, then he should not be faulted for trying to discern what he can in the evidence at hand. The strength of his thesis deserves consideration on its own merits. The second criticism is itself an argument from silence. Inventors can be expected to cry “Eureka!” yet Nepos nowhere explicitly says that his format and subject matter in On Foreign Generals are new. Geiger argues that Nepos looks to distinguish his genre as that of political biography on two occasions, but his critics deem them inconclusive. One of these occasions comes at the opening of the Pelopidas, where Nepos expresses a concern that if he should set out the narrative too fully, he would seem to be writing history, not narrating a life (vereor, si res explicare incipiam, ne non vitam eius enarrare, sed historiam videar scribere, Pel. 1.1). For Geiger, Nepos' clear articulation of the generic difference between political biography and history proper stems from his

recognition that what he is doing is new; thus he wants to help his reader to understand how it is new. But for Moles, the ease with which Nepos makes the generic distinction and the lack of any specific attention called to it “presupposes not the non-existence of Hellenistic political biography but its pre-existence.”18 Page 101 → Similarly, at the beginning of the Preface to On Foreign Generals, Nepos voices to Atticus his concern that some of his readers will find it “trivial and insufficiently worthy of the legacies of the greatest men” (leve et non satis dignum summorum virorum personis iudicent) to learn who taught Epaminondas music (and philosophy: see further Epam. 1.1–2.3). Geiger stresses that such a concern does not exist for biographies about poets or philosophers, for whom such skills would be directly relevant. The problem of triviality only arises for political men (“the greatest men,” summi viri). Hence Nepos' anticipation of some readers' disapproval reveals his recognition of the confusion his novel form of political biography might produce.19 Moles, however, sees in Nepos' concern an expression of the tension between the decorum appropriate to summi viri and the biographical tradition of describing their leisure and their lighter moments (e.g., at the opening of Plutarch's Alexander and most explicit in Nepos at Epam. 1.1–3), a tension made particularly relevant because of the cultural difference between Greek and Roman leisure activities. “Nepos' innovation,” concludes Moles, “lies not in writing political biography for the first time, but in introducing political biography of Greek statesmen to a Roman audience.”20 Here I agree with Geiger's critics that these two passages are inconclusive about Nepos' novelty. Both passages demonstrate that Nepos perceives the literary ramifications of writing a pair of biographical books on non-Roman and Roman generals for a Roman audience, but neither decisively represents a claim of priority in doing so.21 Yet the inconclusiveness of Nepos' claims is not fatal to Geiger's thesis. Catullus 63, for example, is a highly original piece of Latin poetry that nowhere announces itself as such. Accordingly, the fact that Nepos did not boast of his originality—in our extant text, at least—neither prevents him from being novel in form nor requires that he be derivative. Hence this second point of criticism, much like the first, emphasizes how circumstantial Geiger's argument is but does not offer a concrete reason to reject it. The third point of criticism is weightier, however, for it involves the specific terms in which Geiger conceives of the genre that he claims Nepos invented. Arnaldo Momigliano defines biography as “an account of the life of Page 102 → a man from birth to death.”22 Geiger defines political biography from Momigliano's standard but further specifies that the man is to be “of political importance” and that the entire work has to be devoted to his life (as opposed to, e.g., the account of Themistocles in Herodotus).23 Tuplin further narrows the category of “men of political importance” by eliminating lawgivers, orators, and monarchs.24 The prohibition of orators, plausible to the degree that one regards them as literary more than political figures, would remove, for example, biographies of Demosthenes and any other antecedents of the pseudo-Plutarchan Lives of the Ten Orators. The removal of monarchs affects, for example, attested works on Syracusan tyrants (by Phanias of Eresus) or on the Ptolemies.25 Yet it also removes Isocrates' Evagoras, Xenophon's Agesilaus and Cyropaedia, and, for that matter, Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars. Hence one begins to wonder if such a rigorous pursuit of a generic definition of political biography is worthwhile, if, in the end, the only specimens of the genre that meet its definition are works of Nepos and Plutarch. Should the fact that Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars involve monarchs cause them to be excluded from the genre of political biography? Tuplin explains that his refining of Geiger's definition helps to clarify the uniqueness of the works of Nepos and Plutarch within ancient biography. Their isolation convinces him that the scholarly assumption that they necessarily represent a tradition of political biography is “simply illegitimate” and that Geiger has advanced the study of ancient biography by emphasizing the dearth of evidence for anything specifically like Nepos' On Foreign Generals earlier in the ancient biographical tradition.26 Part of the impetus for Geiger's work was to stress the connections between Nepos and Plutarch, Page 103 → and the achievement of Plutarch is such, he says, that it becomes “one of the most important incentives towards the investigation of its antecedents.”27 But Geiger does not define political biography such that Suetonius is displaced from it, and he says that he is looking for “the beginnings of the biography of kings, generals, or statesmen.” Alexander, for example, is always among the figures he investigates—though more as a general than as a monarch—and the contrast he wishes to draw between

Nepos' political biography and earlier Hellenistic biography is represented, for him, by the differences between a biography of Alexander and a biography of Euripides.28 Hence Tuplin's prohibition of monarchs seems to take Geiger's case too far, and references to works about kings should still be included when evaluating his thesis. But first Geiger's definition of political biography must be further explored. Geiger positions the genre of political biography between encomium, on one side, and historical monograph, on the other.29 Works like Isocrates' Evagoras, Xenophon's Agesilaus (and even his Cyropaedia, though it is a particular case, since it is not even properly historical),30 and Polybius' Philopoemen31 are to be distinguished as encomia, that is, works designed to praise a single individual, whereas political biographies offer both praise and blame. Since encomium overlaps with some but not all of biography's functions, they should not be elided generically. Likewise, Geiger argues, a description of, say, Alexander's campaigns that does not treat his life before his accession to the throne should be deemed a monograph, not a biography. By these criteria, for example, Sallust's Catiline is properly a historical monograph, as are the accounts of Pompey's (and his father's) deeds written by his freedman.32 Even when the death of the subject completes such monographs (e.g., in the case of Alexander or Catiline), the works themselves are not primarily devoted to understanding their subjects' entire lives. Geiger's genre divisions seem sound in principle, but the boundaries Page 104 → between such allied historiographical forms appear more fluid in practice. Philip Stadter, for example, stresses the protean relationship of biography and history when he constructs seven categories of ancient biography.33 Four of these categories are relevant for Nepos' On Famous Men but not for On Foreign Generals in particular: philosophical biography, literary biography, reference biography,34 and what Stadter terms “lives of those recently departed.”35 Two other of his categories involve forms of historical writing related to political biography but generically distinct from it in theory: encomium and autobiography.36 The final category is Stadter's answer to Geiger, for it is titled “historical /political biography” and defined as something that cannot be distinguished by title alone from a historical monograph on an individual (e.g., Alexander). On the question of the existence of political biography before Nepos, Stadter advocates caution: “[I]t is best to acknowledge both our ignorance and the indefiniteness of genre boundaries.”37 Stadter's verdict is suggestive of the overall scholarly response to Geiger's thesis: admiration for the perspicacity of the argument but hesitancy to accept its conclusions.38 Only Geiger seems eager to make clean generic breaks between the encomium, the political biography, and the historical monograph, and it is on this point that one can document how the consensus of scholarly opinion has developed against him.39 Page 105 → I, too, find Stadter's caution to be prudent. The strongest reason is the evidence of extant texts. Xenophon's Agesilaus, for example, is obviously encomiastic, but its first two sections present a narrative history with a biographical focus, and I am uncomfortable classifying it as only encomium. Among lost texts, likewise, the difficulty in separating the historical from the biographical and the encomiastic in works about Alexander or in Polybius' Philopoemen seems insurmountable. To require such texts to fit into only one category—in order to declare that political biography did not exist before Nepos—does more harm than good to our understanding of the history of ancient biography. Yet there is one further factor within Geiger's thesis that deserves attention, and one can recognize from it that a more carefully defined version of his conclusion retains its strength. This factor is that Nepos also wrote biographies outside of the scope of On Famous Men. He wrote a book-length work “on the life and mores” (de vita et moribus) of Cato the Elder, to which he refers his reader at the end of his extant, abridged Cato (3.5), and he also wrote “on the life” (de vita) of Cicero in more than one book.40 Both works sound like full-scale biographies of political men. Their dates of composition are not known, but the longer biography of Cato obviously precedes the abridged version (since the abridged version refers the reader to it), and the abridged version predates the books on generals (if the reference at Dion 3.2 to the books on historians is rightly regarded as a backward reference). Hence, if Nepos did indeed invent political biography, then his longer Cato should have played a vital and pioneering role. Why is it not at the center of the discussion?

One crucial reason is that Geiger did not put it there.41 He defines political biography as works of small to medium length appearing in a series that labels them collectively for their subjects' political activity. “All we know of Hellenistic biography,” he claims, “suggests that if there existed political biographies in this period they must have belonged to biographical series Page 106 → rather than to scattered single Lives of generals and statesmen.”42 No independent work about an individual should be considered political biography in the Hellenistic period, in his view, for the function of historical writing about individuals was achieved through the monograph or the encomium. The independent status of Polybius' Philopoemen, as well as its length in three books, confirms for Geiger that it is, as Polybius describes it, an encomium.43 Historians of Alexander, likewise, are just that, historians (or encomiasts).44 After his own examination of the extant traces of Hellenistic biography, Tuplin acquiesces to Geiger's serial definition of political biography.45 But neither he nor Geiger offers any direct discussion of how to characterize Nepos' longer works on Cicero and Cato the Elder. Their length makes them unlikely to have been literary biographies (i.e., of an orator or historian),46 and their status as independent works suggests that they should, in accordance with Geiger's definition of political biography as serial, be regarded as historical monographs or as encomia. Geiger suggests that the literary debate about Cato the Younger at his death in 46 BCE might have precipitated Nepos' investigation into Cato the Elder and that perhaps that work could have been an encomium of the Elder that mirrored, for example, Cicero's on Cato the Younger.47 The work on Cicero could also have been written encomiastically soon after his death in 43 BCE.48 Yet in the very discussion in which Geiger suggestively dates Nepos' longer Cato to the midforties BCE, he describes it not as an encomium but as a “volume-length biography.” If it is to be regarded as a political biography, then it is problematic for his definition of political biography as serial. The problem is intensified when, in a later summary of his thesis, Geiger declares that the “first emergence of political biography is Nepos' long series of two Page 107 → books about foreign and Roman generals.” He then clarifies, “Political biography emerged in a series, not in single works.” Nepos' longer biographies of Cato and Cicero appear absent from his consideration, even though he specifically makes this claim in response to critics who argue that “single biographies of men of affairs already existed.”49 What needs to be recognized, therefore, is that Geiger's assertion of Nepos' novelty in the writing of political biography falls particularly on his creation of a biographical series that was modeled on similar such series for philosophical or literary figures but had never before included political figures. Hence one can create a wider and a narrower version of the thesis that Nepos invented political biography. The wider version argues that Nepos was the first to write political biography both in longer, independent works (Cato) and in a briefer, serial format (On Foreign Generals), whereas the narrower version argues only for the serial format. The narrower version does not require the wider version to be true, for one can accept Geiger's claim that Nepos invented serial political biography whether or not one accepts his claim that independent and individual works of political biography did not exist before Nepos' Cato and Cicero. When framed in this way, it becomes clear that Geiger does not directly advocate the wider version. He implicitly suggests that Nepos' book-length Cato may have priority as an independent work of political biography, but because its date cannot be fixed, he recognizes that it is ultimately impossible to tell where it falls chronologically relative to the numerous works written about the compelling individuals who died in the forties BCE: Munatius Rufus on Cato the Younger, Oppius on Julius Caesar, and Tiro on Cicero, to take but three examples.50 The generic categories of these works are difficult to pinpoint, with varying combinations of historical narrative, encomium, memoir, biography, and autobiography all possible.51 Geiger concludes his survey of these works by saying, “Admittedly, in the mid- or late forties the Page 108 → time for biography had arrived in Rome: but perhaps it is not entirely a matter of chance that Nepos is the only author about whose achievement anything definite can be said.”52 Hence Geiger's claim that Nepos invented political biography is in fact focused on the invention of the particular form of serial political biography. Even though that claim is tied to a wider argument that political biography did not exist at all until the acme of Nepos' authorial career, the core of the thesis that Geiger advances isolates serial biography as the primary form of biography in the Hellenistic period and argues that Nepos' innovation is to be understood as branching out from within that serial tradition to include Lives of political men. This limitation of Nepos' innovation effectively eliminates the need to agree with Geiger's larger understanding of the generic relationship between political biography and the allied forms of encomium and historical monograph,

since the precedents suggested by Geiger's critics, whether biography or history, whether encomiastic or not, involve independent works, not serialized ones. Xenophon's Agesilaus, for example, is an independent work thirty pages long in the Oxford Classical Text, while Nepos' Agesilaus is only six pages in itself but is one of twenty-two Lives in On Foreign Generals. Geiger's definition of political biography frames it as serial and relatively brief: it is because Nepos' Pelopidas will end up being only three pages long that he begins with an expression of his need to trim the narrative (1.1), for he conceives of a political vita as a much smaller generic form than historia. Geiger's discussion of independent works is thus ultimately of secondary importance, more of a distracting attempt at a negative proof than a parallel argument to his main thesis that Nepos invented serial political biography. As Tuplin's examination of the evidence confirms, no solid evidence for a biographical series on politicians anywhere comparable to that of Nepos can be found prior to his own generation. Writers contemporary to Nepos were surely influential on his comparative method and his arrangement of subjects, but none seems to have written anything like On Foreign Generals. The books of portraits produced by Varro and Atticus in the thirties BCE likely affected Nepos' choice of subjects in On Famous Men, especially since Varro included both Greeks and Romans grouped in categories; but these works included only very brief descriptions of the figures depicted (four or fives lines of verses each in Atticus' volume), which categorizes them as reference biography and not political biography.53 Jerome lists Varro, Santra, Nepos, Page 109 → and Hyginus, together and in that order (which may or may not be chronological), as Latin predecessors to Suetonius, but Varro and Santra are only known to have written literary biographies, while Hyginus is an Augustan successor to Nepos.54 Geiger's claim for Nepos' innovative priority in writing serial political biography thus emerges more carefully defined but still intact. His model for understanding Nepos' achievement in On Foreign Generals is to assume that Nepos began On Famous Men with the goal, unprecedented in itself, of comparing Greeks and Romans in various categories of activity through the medium of short, serial biographies.55 Accessible Hellenistic series of such biographies of literary and philosophical figures were taken as his model and likely also functioned as his primary sources for the biographies of the non-Romans. But when he came to incorporate into On Famous Men a pair of books on generals—whether he had the idea himself or Atticus suggested it to him—he had no direct Greek models, for collections of brief political biographies did not yet exist. This particular claim is the essence of Geiger's thesis, and even Moles accepts it.56 Geiger's insight does indeed develop from an Page 110 → argument from silence, but once independent works are removed from the discussion, it does not strain the evidence to claim that there were no collections of serialized books containing short biographies of political men before Nepos' On Foreign Generals. In fact, Geiger's thesis makes the best sense of the evidence we have and the patterns of Nepos' work that we can trace.57 On this model, therefore, Nepos researched from major historical works and selectively culled information in order to construct a pair of biographical books in a short, serial format comparable (but possibly a bit longer, given the greater wealth of available material) to his other pairs of books in On Famous Men. He had to select his subjects himself, though likely aided by the choice of subjects in the portrait books of Varro and Atticus,58 and he had to use his own judgment about which historians were most appropriate to provide a quick overview of the deeds and character of each subject. For the Greeks in On Foreign Generals, he seems not to have reliably chosen the sources that modern historians would have preferred (e.g., Herodotus), but his pioneering effort to create such a series of non-Roman political biographies deserves more respect than complaint. The companion book On Roman Generals was likely much easier to compile, especially with the advantages provided by the researches of Atticus and Varro.59 The larger context of the comparative structure of On Famous Men shaped Nepos' choice of non-Roman generals in important ways, for the goal of the pair of books was for readers to judge which generals were to be ranked higher (quo facilius…qui viri praeferendi sint possit iudicari, Hann. 13.4). This comparative context best explains Nepos' decision to exclude kings from On Foreign Generals, for issues of command are significantly defined by the constitutional power of the commander, and the subjects in On Roman Generals functioned within a political system that limited their exercise of power. Nepos' biographies, as will be discussed shortly, are particularly invested in evaluating moral and political conduct, and the value of comparison is greatest where the political

constraints are most comparable. To compare a Scipio to a Cyrus or an Alexander would be to limit the point of comparison Page 111 → to specifically military leadership, for the politics of their leadership would be so qualitatively different as to make meaningful comparison impossible.60 Nepos' solution, I suggest, was to include in a digression extremely brief biographical summaries of the kings who seemed to him notable for their military achievements, but not to write proper Lives of them within the comparative framework of his two books on generals.61 One might expect that Nepos would explain his criteria for the exclusion of kings more directly when he introduces his excursus about them. Yet an examination of the passage with the Roman point of comparison in mind brings out Nepos' reasoning clearly enough. He explains that accounts of the deeds of the most impressive kings were available elsewhere, and the implication seems to be that their addition to On Foreign Generals would make the book too long. But then he is quick to justify his inclusion of Agesilaus, and that clarification reveals that the limited power of the Spartan kings allowed for Agesilaus' inclusion (Reg. 1.1–2): Hi fere fuerunt Graecae gentis duces, qui memoria digni videantur, praeter reges: namque eos attingere noluimus, quod omnium res gestae separatim sunt relatae. neque tamen ii admodum sunt multi. Lacedaemonius autem Agesilaus nomine, non potestate fuit rex, sicut ceteri Spartani. ex iis vero, qui dominatum imperio tenuerunt, excellentissimi fuerunt, ut nos iudicamus, Persarum Cyrus et Darius. [These men were about all the generals of the Greek people who seem worthy of mention, except for kings: we have not wished to touch upon them, since the deeds of all of them have been related separately. Yet there are not very many of them. As for Agesilaus the Lacedaemonian, he was a king in name but not in power, as were the other Spartan kings. But of those who held absolute power together with the power of command, the most distinguished, as we judge, were the Persians Cyrus and Darius.] Page 112 → What distinguishes Agesilaus from Cyrus and thus caused the former to be included and the latter excluded is that Agesilaus was a king “in name, not in power” (nomine, non potestate), whereas Cyrus held “absolute power together with the power of command” (dominatum imperio). What this passage therefore reveals for On Foreign Generals as a whole is that one of Nepos' criteria for inclusion was the exercise of command (imperium) but not the exercise of absolute (i.e., monarchical) power (dominatus). Geiger's thesis that Nepos invented serial political biography can now be further clarified. What Nepos has invented is republican serial political biography: the first series of biographical works about generals who possess the authority of command but who are not the rulers of their states.62 Geiger's thesis may seem a small or self-fulfilling one, as if, by defining the genre of political biography as serial, he created the means to credit Nepos with a literary novelty. But such a view is misconceived, for more is at stake in evaluating Geiger's argument than a literary question about the development of biography in antiquity. Recognizing that Nepos invented serial political biography is a major first step in understanding the significance of its comparative format for Nepos' conception of the value of his pair of books on generals. His entire corpus shows an interest in developing ways to showcase historical comparison. The Chronica was the first such work in Latin to integrate different time maps across the Mediterranean and thereby make it possible to compare events in the Greek East with events in Rome (e.g., Archilochus flourished as a poet while Tullus Hostilius was Rome's king, ca. 650 BCE).63 The Exempla was the first such work known in Latin that deployed an apparently anecdotal format to make comparisons between past and present conditions at Rome (e.g., only two silver triclinia existed at Rome before Sulla's victory).64 On Famous Men advanced these opportunities for comparison in multiple ways, for Roman readers could now compare Greeks and Romans, from the past down to the present, in specific areas of achievement (e.g., as historians). Although the individual biographies seem to have been brief, the overall number of biographies included allowed for Page 113 → a cultural survey on a very wide scale. On Famous Men deserves to be understood as the capstone of Nepos' corpus and the culminating expression of his comparative historical

interests. The innovation of On Foreign Generals then emerges as the entirely appropriate extension of these interests. Having pioneered comparative biography in Latin, Nepos recognized the absence of political men from the serial biographical collections of the Hellenistic Age and thus sought to include them within the same brief purview of the other biographies in On Famous Men. It was also a significant choice in other ways, for the history of political men had a different resonance from the other categories in On Famous Men.65 Geiger stresses that the importance of the serial format is to allow for comparison within the series and thus to stress the qualities of a certain type of figure as well as the qualities of each individual figure.66 In a pair of books on historians, for example, if one were to consider “which men were to be ranked higher” (qui viri praeferendi sint), one would read across the pair of books to determine the overall frame of comparison as well as to evaluate individual historians on particular criteria. As individual historians, for example, Thucydides could be ranked highest for the accuracy of his details, Herodotus for his anecdotes, Cato for his industry (Cato 3.4), Atticus for his passion for antiquarianism (Att. 18.1). But it is crucial that all these figures are united as historians within Nepos' two serial books, for it is from his collection of the particular individuals within his paired books on historians that the reader can both grasp the cumulative task of being a historian and identify the individual whose work best exemplifies the overall achievement of that task. The individual examples are to be measured not only by comparison with each other but also against the ideal.67 For historians and poets, such judgments about strengths and weaknesses are judgments of art. For philosophers and intellectual figures, they are judgments of wisdom. These judgments may be controversial, but they are primarily so only among the practitioners of that vocation and the students of its history. Writing about political men invokes a different kind of controversy, one potentially backed with significant military power, especially in a time of violent political tension such as Rome's triumviral years. Nepos' decision to include political men within On Famous Men, therefore, Page 114 → was more than a literary decision. It was also a political decision. To invite readers to determine which generals were to be ranked higher was to invite them to develop a standard of excellent generalship against which individually renowned generals could be measured. Nepos' invention of serial political biography means that a biographer had never before been involved in the comparative articulation of such political standards, and the effort to do so seems to have been a political experiment undertaken through a new form of biographical writing. Moreover, to involve readers in this way during the very years when the biographer could see that Antony was preparing to fight Octavian for control over the entire world (Att. 20.5) was an invitation to establish a standard that would almost inescapably engage readers in the competing claims of the present conflict. Hence the invitation was not only political but also particularly relevant, even dangerous, and its timing is too significant for it to have been accidental.68 Nepos' decision to invent serial political biography in the latter thirties BCE was his calculated method of creating a means to demonstrate and thereby implicitly advocate his political view. We must now turn to the identification of that view.

The Politics of Nepos' Political Biography Soon after Geiger's monograph activated the discussion of Nepos' originality as a biographer, two further studies brought into focus how Nepos' biographical corpus reveals its political perspective. Both these studies find the unsettled environment of the triumviral period to be reflected in the politics of Nepos' corpus, yet Fergus Millar observes how the values in the Atticus anticipate Augustan aristocratic ideology, while Carlotta Dionisotti reads Nepos' On Foreign Generals as a “comment on political behavior, with a pretty sharp edge to recent events, implying also a specific view, as much political as moral, of what has gone wrong.”69 Hence Nepos is read by Millar prospectively to the Augustan principate and by Dionisotti retrospectively to the fall of the Republic, but both critics make clear how the seemingly quietist and scholarly Nepos is nevertheless capable of articulating an engaged political perspective on current events. With brilliant economy, Dionisotti surveys On Foreign Generals and emphasizes Page 115 → the coherence and consistency of Nepos' republican preferences. She demonstrates these preferences within a set of three interrelated political oppositions: liberty versus tyranny, obedience to proper constitutional authority versus private initiative, and the good of the state versus the good of the individual. In each case, those who advance the first element in

each opposition are presented positively, and those who advance the second elements are depicted negatively. The commander who defers to the proper public authority at a crucial moment is thereby also one who is seen to choose the public good over private advantage, to uphold liberty by closing off a path to tyranny. The clearest example is Nepos' characterization of the ephors' request that Agesilaus return from his campaign in Asia in order to defend Sparta in the Corinthian War (Ages. 4.2–3): In hoc non minus eius pietas suspicienda est quam virtus bellica: qui cum victori praeesset exercitui maximamque haberet fiduciam regni Persarum potiundi, tanta modestia dicto audiens fuit iussis absentium magistratuum, ut si privatus in comitio esset Spartae. cuius exemplum utinam imperatores nostri sequi voluissent! sed illuc redeamus. Agesilaus opulentissimo regno praeposuit bonam existimationem multoque gloriosius duxit, si institutis patriae paruisset, quam si bello superasset Asiam. [In this instance, his dutifulness is to be admired no less than his martial virtue. Even though this man commanded a victorious army and had the greatest confidence of acquiring the kingdom of the Persians, he was obedient to the orders of his absent magistrates with such propriety that it was as if he had been in the comitium at Sparta as a private citizen. If only our commanders had wished to follow his example! But let me return to my point. Agesilaus preferred a good reputation to the wealthiest kingdom, and he considered that it would be much more glorious if he obeyed the institutions of his state than if he subdued Asia in war.] The context is vivid: Agesilaus obeyed the ephors, although absent, as if he were in their immediate presence. His public standing as a Spartan king on campaign is effectively negated, for he responds as a private citizen (privatus) would and is hailed for doing so. “If only our commanders had wished to follow his example!” exclaims Nepos, and he then continues by clarifying what he sees as the significance of Agesilaus' choice: the recognition Page 116 → that greater glory is won by obeying the institutions of one's state than by undertaking a successful campaign of conquest on one's own. Such a prioritization of constitutional authority over individual opportunity demonstrates the proper ranking of public and private advantage, a ranking that respects established political sovereignty and thus resists any temptation to tyranny.70 A counterexample reinforces the same set of conclusions. Consider Nepos' characterization of Lysander's response to his victory at Aegospotami (Lys. 1.3–4): hac victoria Lysander elatus, cum antea semper factiosus audaxque fuisset, sic sibi indulsit, ut eius opera in maximum odium Graeciae Lacedaemonii pervenerint. nam cum hanc causam Lacedaemonii dictitassent sibi esse belli, ut Atheniensium impotentem dominationem refringerent, postquam apud Aegos flumen Lysander classis hostium est potitus, nihil aliud molitus est quam ut omnes civitates in sua teneret potestate, cum id se Lacedaemoniorum causa facere simularet. [Although Lysander had always before been factious and rash, he became elated by this victory and so indulged himself that, on account of his conduct, the Greeks came to regard the Lacedaemonians with the greatest hatred: for even though the Lacedaemonians had repeatedly asserted that their purpose in the war was to break up the unrestrained tyranny of the Athenians, after Lysander had gained possession of the enemy's fleet at Aegospotami, he strove at nothing else than that he hold all the cities in his own power, even while he pretended that he was doing so for the sake of the Lacedaemonians.] Nepos describes Lysander as only pretending to uphold the Lacedaemonian claim that the Spartans were the opponents of Athenian tyranny (dominationem), while he himself strives to hold all the cities in his own power (in sua potestate). This characterization of motive depicts Lysander to be as desirous of dominatio personally as the Athenians were collectively; he succumbs to the temptations of tyranny and thereby brings ill reputation onto the very citizenry whose interests he was supposed to be advancing. As his private Page 117 → initiative usurps his awareness of his state's public good, the result is hatred for what appears as a new assertion of tyranny.

Dionisotti argues that the importance and interrelationship of these political ideas throughout On Foreign Generals demonstrates that Nepos was an observant student of his own times. He was seeking to understand the political demise of the Roman Republic, and he had come to realize that the fulcrum of change centered on “the relationship between military success and political control,” that is, on the question “[H]ow can a state that is not a monarchy cope with the power that inevitably accrues to a successful military leader?”71 Nepos' answer to that question, as Dionisotti reads it, originates from his conclusion that a military commander needs to subordinate his private interest to the public good. To recognize that one's public duty is superior to any private duty is thus to obey constitutional authority rather than pursue private initiative, which, in turn, protects the liberty of all from the possessor of military power. On this reading, the biographies of Nepos become the vehicle for the demonstration of crucial tenets in republican political thought. One issue for Dionisotti's reading—recognized by Dionisotti herself—is how the relative ranking of public and private duty appears to be endorsed differently in the Atticus than in On Foreign Generals. For the political role of private duty in the Atticus, let us turn to the study of Fergus Millar, which appeared just before Dionisotti's and to which Dionisotti's study forms a natural complement. Millar's article rightly recognizes the Atticus as “one of the best introductions” to the triumviral period and demonstrates how the values the biography espouses overlap with those that mark the outcome of the Roman Revolution.72 Atticus himself plays only an indirect role but nevertheless affects Augustus' presentation of his achievement. The learned antiquarianism of Atticus (and Varro and Nepos) contributed significantly, for example, to the redeployment of Rome's republican past in the Forum of Augustus. Nepos also credits Atticus in particular with suggesting to Augustus that he restore the temple of Jupiter Feretrius (Att. 20.3), an act that developed into a larger program to restore all of Rome's neglected religious spaces.73 But the most significant way in which Millar sees Atticus prefiguring the Augustan aristocracy was his successful manner of deeply involving himself with the activities of the political class while maintaining individual political neutrality. Page 118 → Millar describes the Atticus as “a representation of what its hero did not do.” Atticus did not hold public office or military command, and he declined prefectures even from friends assembling their gubernatorial staffs (Att. 6.1–5). He refused to fight in the civil war of Sulla (2.2, 4.2); he “escaped new dangers by his old rule of life” in the civil war between Pompey and Caesar (vetere instituto vitae effugit nova pericula, 7.3); and he refused to fund Brutus' position after the Ides of March, because he “judged that duties to friends should be upheld without regard to faction” (qui officia amicis praestanda sine factione existimaret, 8.4). Millar thus emphasizes that Atticus' position “is a striking reversal of the principle allegedly laid down by Solon: that the citizen has a duty to take sides in a civil dispute. The overriding duty here is private; civil war is, potentially or actually, a disturbance of a network of mutual private obligations.”74 Such a sense of duty appears to be the opposite of what Dionisotti sees Nepos stressing in On Foreign Generals, especially since Nepos praises the principled execution of the neutrality of his subject in the Atticus.75 Hence, where Dionisotti sees Nepos commenting on recent events with a sharp edge, Millar concludes that “the philosophic quietism and neutrality, which Atticus observed and Nepos praised, only served to smooth the path to monarchy. Under that new monarchy political neutrality was to be the enforced fate of everybody, and an antiquarian interest in the Roman past could be put to use in the propaganda of the newly-established dynasty.”76 Dionisotti acknowledges Millar's reading of the Atticus and does not dispute it. She warns, instead, against accepting that Nepos' emphasis in the Atticus was Nepos' own view: “[B]efore deciding that [the Atticus of the Atticus] was Nepos' ideal, we should reflect that the biography of a respected friend, largely written in his lifetime to boot, is likely to be less revealing of Nepos' own views than biographies of remote historical subjects. A favourable account of Atticus' life, short of pretending that political issues did not exist, and given that those issues were not yet resolved, was bound to make a virtue of his neutrality.”77 The point is well taken, though one could just as Page 119 → easily argue that Nepos' loyalty to his friend is what animates the sincerity that imbues his presentation of Atticus. But however one judges the relative weighting of the near and the far for Nepos' selfpresentation, Dionisotti's response to Millar assumes that the relationship of public and private duty is necessarily adversarial, that one has to privilege either public or private duty to the exclusion of the other, and thus that

Nepos' ranking in the Atticus is at odds with his ranking in On Foreign Generals. I would suggest, instead, that the two should be reconciled within a spectrum of duty. In the middle of that spectrum, the motivations of public and private are proportionally equal, but as one moves toward either the public end or the private end, that type of duty becomes proportionally larger. On this model, Atticus is closer to the private end and Agesilaus to the public end, yet both can exist honorably on the same spectrum. Conceiving of the spectrum of public and private duty on a sliding scale is particularly valuable when reading biography, since the biographer is interested in the life of his subject more than just the events of his life. To relate what kind of man a subject was, the biographer focuses on the personal detail as well as, and sometimes even more than, the historically significant great deed. The private life of the subject is clearly relevant to his public life, for it is from the private life of the man that the measure of his character emerges into view. Hence the biographer moves from the private to the public life of his subject in an interactive way, and the same sort of interaction marks the biographer's presentation of public and private duty.78 Private virtue, in other words, anticipates public virtue, for the goal of biography is to show how character informs deeds.79 For example, Nepos claims that Epaminondas “lived with little wealth so easily that he took nothing from the state except glory” (paupertatem adeo facile perpessus est, ut de re publica nihil praeter gloriam ceperit, Epam. 3.4). The only time he is said to strive for money is when one of his friends needed to raise a ransom or a dowry; otherwise, he held all of his own possessions in common with his friends (3.4–6). From these details of Epaminondas' private life, the reader is to understand that he did not value money in itself but only for its utility in pursuit of greater goods. This understanding Page 120 → then establishes the validity of Nepos' next anecdote, in which he describes how the Persian king tried to bribe the Theban. As Nepos presents the story, as soon as Epaminondas perceives the effort, he denounces the attempt (4.2): “nihil” inquit “opus est pecunia: nam si rex ea vult, quae Thebanis sunt utilia, gratis facere sum paratus, sin autem contraria, non habet auri atque argenti satis. namque orbis terrarum divitias accipere nolo prae patriae caritate.” [“There is no need of money,” he said, “for if the king wishes what is useful for the Thebans, then I am prepared to do it freely. But if it is to the contrary, then he does not have enough gold and silver, for I refuse all the wealth in the world on behalf of my love for my country.”] As in this example, a public figure's sense of duty should rightly be first and foremost to his country, and Nepos has ordered and constructed these two anecdotes to demonstrate what he sees as the close relationship of his subject's private virtue to his actions as a public man. Nepos will stress different aspects of this public-private relationship in different Lives, but by recognizing the value of the interactive perspective between public and private, we can better assess subjects against one another. We can recognize that figures at different places on the spectrum of public and private duty are not necessarily in competition with one another but are to be measured against the appropriate duty for their individual circumstances.80 If we return to the example that best crystallizes Dionisotti's reading—namely, the moment when Agesilaus obeys, without hesitation, the ephors' command to end his campaign of foreign conquest and return home—we see that Nepos characterizes this act as one of dutifulness (pietas) that deserves respect (suspicienda est, Ages. 4.2). Since Nepos further explains that the glory of the moment derives from Agesilaus' recognition of the value of obeying the institutions of one's country (gloriosius duxit, si institutis patriae paruisset, 4.3), this act of piety derives from this commander's sense of public duty. But it is soon matched with another praiseworthy act, singled out for attention by Nepos during the battle that immediately followed Agesilaus' swift return to Greece. The Spartan was victorious in heavy fighting (gravi proelio vicit, 4.5), yet the victory itself is not what Nepos finds impressive (4.6): Page 121 → huius victoriae vel maxima fuit laus, quod, cum plerique ex fuga se in templum Minervae coniecissent

quaerereturque ab eo, quid iis vellet fieri, etsi aliquot vulnera acceperat eo proelio et iratus videbatur omnibus, qui adversus arma tulerant, tamen antetulit irae religionem et eos vetuit violari.

[The most praiseworthy element of this victory was when many had fled to the temple of Minerva and he was asked what he wished to be done to them, and he, even though he had received several wounds in that battle and seemed angry at all those who had taken up arms on the other side, nevertheless valued religious scruple above anger and forbid them to be harmed.] As the leader of the Spartan army in a hard-fought battle, Agesilaus had a public duty that required him to secure victory by any reasonable means, and Nepos suggests that those means could easily enough have included the destruction of those of the enemy who had fled to the protection of Minerva's sanctuary. But even in these circumstances, when the king was irritated and personally wounded, Agesilaus' sense of restraint, his respect for religio, overcame his anger and led to the preservation of the suppliants. It was the innate habits of his personal and private character that prevailed, in this instance, to offer the enemy mercy when it need not have been expected. As such, his religio here affects his public action in the same way that his pietas did when he responded to the ephors' authority. Both choices are public, but Nepos attributes the latter to Agesilaus' sense of himself as a public figure, while the former results from his personal sense of scruple. Public and private duty thus interact and overlap within his public record, and while Agesilaus' public responsibility as king places his duty near to the public end of the spectrum, it is nevertheless the virtue of his private character that grounds the successes of his public leadership. The character of Atticus is equally consistent in Nepos' presentation, but in the Atticus, unlike in the Agesilaus, the private virtues receive primary emphasis rather than the public ones. Yet a sense of public duty is certainly present in the Atticus, such as when Nepos declares that Atticus involved himself in public life to the extent that he always was and was thought to be among the party of the optimates (semper optimarum partium et esset et existimaretur, 6.1) or when Nepos describes him as no less good as the head of his household than as a citizen (neque vero ille minus bonus pater familias habitus est quam civis, 13.1). His choice not to pursue a public career is explicitly characterized as a deliberate and ethical one (6.2): Page 122 → honores non petiit, cum ei paterent propter vel gratiam vel dignitatem: quod neque peti more maiorum neque capi possent conservatis legibus in tam effusi ambitus largitionibus neque e re publica sine periculo corruptis civitatis moribus. [He did not seek public offices, although they lay open to him on account of either his popularity or his standing: for [he felt that] the state's morals were corrupted, and thus offices could not be campaigned for in the traditional way, or won amid campaigns of such effusive bribery without breaking the law, or administered to the advantage of the Republic without danger.] On this standard, Atticus did not fail to respect the need for a man of his stature to advance the public good, but the Republic was so corrupted as to push away scrupulous men. Public life was degraded to such a degree that to engage in it was constantly to risk tainting oneself. Hence Atticus turned to affairs of personal business, and Nepos emphasizes that Atticus displayed through those affairs the character that he could have devoted to his republic in less corrupt times (15.2–3): numquam suscepti negotii eum pertaesum est: suam enim existimationem in ea re agi putabat, qua nihil habebat carius. quo fiebat ut omnia Ciceronum, M. Catonis, Q. Hortensii, Auli Torquati, multorum praeterea equitum Romanorum negotia procuraret. ex quo iudicari poterat non inertia, sed iudicio fugisse rei publicae procurationem. [He never tired of a task once undertaken, for he considered that his own reputation—than which he held nothing more dear—was invested in that task. The result was that he administered all the affairs

of the Ciceros, Marcus Cato, Quintus Hortensius, Aulus Torquatus, and many other Roman equites besides. From this it could be judged that he rejected the administration of public affairs not by laziness but by judgment.]

Atticus thus had both the ability and the commitment to put the interests of others ahead of his own, and his choice to serve the interests of political men rather than be in political office himself was an effective one.81 Atticus is not lacking a sense of public duty, but for moral reasons, he has chosen Page 123 → to subordinate it under and within a carefully calibrated network of private obligations to public men. In sum, this positioning on the private side of the sliding scale between public and private duty does not render him devoid of involvement in public life or uninterested in the public good. Nepos has framed Atticus' achievement in maintaining his standing throughout the civic upheavals of his lifetime so that the reader can come to respect how Atticus buffered himself from the corruption of public life by honing his sense of private duty. This outcome inverts the interaction of public and private duty that Nepos conveys in the Agesilaus, but the two examples represent different sides of the spectrum more than they are directly in opposition. A further means of reconciling the political readings of Millar on the Atticus and Dionisotti on On Foreign Generals would be to emphasize the difference in vocation between Atticus and Agesilaus. The latter, as king and commander of his city's army, is entrusted by his citizenry to preserve and advance the public good. Atticus, as a historian and businessman outside of public office, does not have such an immediate duty to prioritize the public over the private. The significance of the spectrum of public and private duty, in other words, can apply rather differently to On Foreign Generals than it does to On Latin Historians. On these grounds alone, one could argue that Millar's Atticus and Dionisotti's Foreign Generals can coexist without discord within the broad framework of On Famous Men. One could conclude that neither is more representative of Nepos' own views overall and that he has different views about the appropriate duties of historians and generals. To do so, however, would be to ignore the fact that we have one more specimen from the book On Latin Historians—the abridged Cato—that happens to describe a historian who was also a general and prominent public figure. The third of the biography's three sections surveys Cato's breadth of activity and especially his work as a historian, while the first two sections offer a summary of his public career. Despite the brevity of the treatment (the biography is less than two pages long), the selection of information is telling, and the manner of presentation is partisan. Consider, for example, Cato 2.4: circiter annos octoginta, usque ad extremam aetatem ab adulescentia, rei publicae causa suscipere inimicitias non destitit. a multis tentatus non modo nullum detrimentum existimationis fecit, sed, quoad vixit, virtutum laude crevit. [For about eighty years, from his youth right up to the end of his life, [Cato] did not cease from undertaking feuds on behalf of the Republic. Although challenged by many, not only did he not incur any damage Page 124 → to his reputation, but he enhanced it for as long as he lived, thanks to the merit of his virtues.] Atticus felt that duties to friends were to be performed without supporting a faction (sine factione, Att. 8.4). Cato's public engagement is the opposite: he ceaselessly feuded, risking his personal reputation, “on behalf of the Republic” (rei publicae causa). Yet Nepos gives Cato's opponents no credibility, dismissing them in comparison to the merit of Cato's virtues, and he attributes Cato's engagement in these quarrels not to a worrisome personal combativeness but to a seemingly healthy sense of public duty.82 But there is another difference between Cato's political combat and Atticus' aversion to it: the changed role of the rule of law within the Roman Republic itself. In the specific example that leads to the general endorsement of Cato's feuds quoted above, Nepos explains that when Cato dallied at the conclusion of his consular command in Nearer Spain, Scipio Africanus, then consul for the second time (2.2–3), voluit eum de provincia depellere et ipse ei succedere, neque hoc per senatum efficere potuit, cum

quidem Scipio principatum in civitate obtineret, quod tum non potentia, sed iure res publica administrabatur. qua ex re iratus senatui peracto privatus in urbe mansit. at Cato, censor cum eodem Flacco factus, severe praefuit ei potestati.

[wished to expel him from his province and succeed him himself, but he was not able to achieve this in the Senate, even though Scipio held the preeminent position in the state, because at that time the Republic was administered not by power but by law. Therefore, angry at the Senate, he remained in the city as a private citizen after his consulship was completed. But Cato, made censor with the same Flaccus [with whom he had also been consul], strictly upheld the power of that office.] Nepos' treatment of this anecdote hews closely to the set of political oppositions Dionisotti identified in On Foreign Generals. Given his preeminent position in the state (principatum in civitate), Scipio seeks the command in Spain on his own initiative, but the constitutional authority of the Senate checks him. He then holds a grudge against the Senate, privileging his own feelings over the Senate's judgment of its public duty, and withdraws from Page 125 → public service, while Cato demonstrates the full power (potestas) of the censorship, continuing to serve the state in the properly sanctioned way. Scipio is all but unmasked as a potential tyrant, while Cato is the symbol of the justly rewarded public servant. Most significant is Nepos' open judgment of why the republican system prevailed in this case against the powerful Scipio: “because at that time the Republic was administered not by power but by law” (quod tum non potentia, sed iure res publica administrabatur). This contrast between individual power (potentia) and the rule of law (ius) mirrors the contrast between tyranny (dominatio) and liberty (libertas) that Dionisotti singles out for its centrality in Nepos' political thought. His republican emphasis in On Foreign Generals is also clearly present in On Latin Historians.83 This passage also explains the difference between the places of the historians Cato and Atticus on the sliding scale of public and private duty. At the time of Cato (tum), the rule of law (ius) still prevailed against potentia. The temporal marker tum implies that by the time of Nepos' composition of On Latin Historians, during the latter years of Atticus' own life, ius no longer held this position, and potentia had become the dominant force. Atticus' refusal to fight with or against Sulla would suggest that in his view, the era of potentia had already begun in the eighties BCE (Att. 2.2, 4.1–2), while the narrative of Atticus' survival of the forties BCE (Att. 7–12) demonstrates its unsettling power in the triumviral period. The ascendancy of potentia over ius explains why Atticus feels that the Republic's morals had become so corrupted (corruptis civitatis moribus) that one could neither win office without breaking the law (conservatis legibus) nor govern for the good of the Republic without danger (e re publica sine periculo, Att. 6.2). The dominance of potentia pushes the honorable republican out of the public arena unless he is prepared (as, e.g., Cicero was) to sacrifice his life. Hence, when, at last, the rivalry for power comes down to two men, who each want to be the first man not just in Rome but over the whole world (cum se uterque principem non solum urbis Romae, sed orbis terrarum esse cuperet), it is the mark of wisdom to maintain one's individual integrity while also retaining the familiarity and goodwill of both sides (quantae sit sapientiae eorum retinere usum benivolentiamque, Att. 20.5). For Nepos, Atticus' politics, in themselves, are not necessarily any less republican than Cato's, but the times in which he (and Nepos) lived led him to choose a life of principled private duty grounded within an equally principled public neutrality. Page 126 → Two significant conclusions result from the reconciliation of the political perspectives of the Atticus with those of On Foreign Generals. The first is that the observations of Millar and Dionisotti should not be compartmentalized within different parts of the extant corpus. Nepos' two extant Lives of historians share the same political perspective as his book On Foreign Generals, and scholarly readings of Nepos would do well to regard them together and not apart. Second, Nepos' politics are consistently republican, just as they are consistently critical of the state of the Roman Republic during his lifetime. Nothing in Nepos' extant corpus anticipates or welcomes Augustus' declared restoration of the Republic under its first citizen (princeps), and the main reason that the values of private duty expressed in the Atticus came to apply to the future Augustan aristocracy is because, as Millar says, they “were taken up, distorted, and deployed in the propaganda of the Augustan regime.”84 Nepos

himself casts the civil war of Antony and Octavian as the final phase of the world victory of individual potentia against republican ius. Given the scale of such potentia, historical researchers and writers like Nepos and Atticus can only await the dictates of the victor. But they do not have to like their position in thrall to the victor's potentia, and we should not assume that Nepos' apparent acquiescence to Augustan power meant that he embraced it. Millar's study of the Atticus suggests to him that “Nepos himself was at the least reserved and neutral, and very likely hostile, in the face of Octavian's rise to power.”85 Dionisotti's study of On Foreign Generals begins from a question that is easily compatible with such hostility: “[C]an Nepos' Lives in fact tell us something about how a Roman citizen, cultured and in touch with public affairs, but not directly involved in them, understood and interpreted the collapse of his country's political system?”86 Both studies confirm Nepos as a solidly republican voice from the very period in which Rome saw its power permanently consolidated in one man. This opportunity to hear from a republican during the triumviral years is further enhanced when one recognizes from the work of Joseph Geiger that Nepos invented serial political biography at this very historical moment and that the already established comparative and cross-cultural framework of his books On Famous Men provided Nepos with the means to voice his political perspective. His choice to extend On Famous Men to include distinguished commanders, both Roman and non-Roman, thus emerges as a political decision, Page 127 → the tool by which he could promote his assessment of the virtues and vices of republican commanders within the historical past of the Mediterranean world. Nepos' defense of Atticus' political neutrality demonstrates that abstinence from a traditional public career does not preclude a sincere commitment to republicanism or an equally sincere interest in examining how the Roman Republic had been degraded to the point that honorable men could seem prudent by not serving it. The republican who maintains both political neutrality and a claim to virtue faces the duty to explain how his virtue has resulted in his neutrality, and Nepos' political biography reads as his means of fulfilling that duty. 1. Horsfall 1982: 291 (so also Jenkinson 1967: 1 and 1973: 705). 2. Geiger 1985b: 9–65, challenging in particular Leo 1901 (on whose thesis see also West 1974; Momigliano 1971: 65–100, 1993: 111–21) and Steidle 1963, esp. 140–45 (on whose thesis see also Lewis 1991). 3. Geiger 1985b: 66–116, fundamental for all future work on Nepos. 4. Pryzwansky 2009: 101–2 surveys the responses to Geiger's thesis. More surprising than the division of critical opinion is the fact that only Tuplin 2000 has elected to explore the thesis in detail; he concludes that there is “no clear evidence for or against Geiger's thesis, though some arguments against him are illfounded” (159). Horsfall 1989: 13 describes Geiger's monograph as “complex professional polemic,” but he only partially addresses its complexity (at xvii and 11). Likewise, Dionisotti 1988: 48 claims that “much of [Geiger's] argument invites all manner of question,” but she does not choose to formulate or pursue the questions. 5. Geiger 1985b: 93–95: Nepos' On Famous Men is in fact the first known biographical series of any kind in Latin, and it also contains the first attested biography of a living person (Atticus). 6. Geiger 1985b: 71: “Nepos' fate was no different from other inventors', whose first hesitant and not always properly executed steps in a given field cleared the way for those profiting from the mistakes of the pioneer.” Momigliano 1971: 98 is less circumspect: “Valerius Maximus and Plutarch are unthinkable without Cornelius Nepos.” In chronological matters, Feeney 2007: 20–23 summarizes how Atticus is believed to have improved on Nepos and was himself improved on by Varro. 7. Geiger 1985b: 78. Even Horsfall seems somewhat persuaded. At 1982: 291, he claims that “Nepos' shallow learning was exercised upon fashionable topics.” But by 1989: xviii, the tone is much different: “It looks repeatedly as though [Nepos] has an exceptional talent for seeing what was lacking, and would prove a useful and attractive topic.” See also Albrecht 1997: 480, 487. 8. It is fair to say that Geiger 1985b builds on the work of Wiseman 1979, though from a different direction. Wiseman 1987a favorably reviews Geiger 1985b. 9. Horsfall 1989: xviii and Conte 1994: 223 stress the gap between Nepos' conception and execution. If Nepos did invent political biography, then his novelty might explain the simplicity and brevity of his

political biographies, for he wrote them on the model of Hellenistic literary biographies, before Suetonius and Plutarch came to recognize the effectiveness of a greater length (so Geiger 1985b: 103). Stadter 2007: 532 and 540 offers a historicist, rather than a generic, explanation for the variation in length in the specimens of the extant ancient biographers. 10. Geiger 1985b: 78. 11. Geiger 1985b: 82, 98–101, noted approvingly by Griffin 1994: 696 but weakened by the observations of Tuplin 2000: 142–43 (for the apparent place of On Foreign Generals at the end of On Famous Men, see Geiger 1985b: 87–93). Among Geiger's arguments for Atticus' influence on Nepos, the two most significant considerations are that Nepos wrote his longer biography of Cato the Elder at Atticus' request (Cato 3.5) and that On Foreign Generals is dedicated to Atticus. Geiger 1985a: 268–69 would also attribute Nepos' longer biography of Cicero to Atticus' suggestion. 12. Geiger 1985b: 116, at the book's very conclusion. Likewise Geiger 2008: 40: “the addition of books on generals was an innovatory afterthought whose importance in all probability was not realized even by its author”—political biography was “a literary genre invented, very possibly without giving much thought to it, by Nepos.” 13. Rightly emphasized by Dionisotti 1988: 36. Tuplin 2000: 138–39 comments that “someone composing a compendious work arranged by categories should be the last person to fail to see” the novelty of writing about generals (or political men generally). 14. See Moles 1989: 232 (who notes Onesicritus; compare Geiger 1985b: 48–49 n. 43); Schepens 1989: 216–17 (who notes Scylax of Caryanda); Albrecht 1997: 479 n. 5 (who notes Antigonus of Carystus); Tuplin 2000: 126–32 (annotated survey). 15. Geiger 1985b: 44–61 further argues that writers such as Polybius and Plutarch cite their sources relatively often and that neither ever mentions a biographical work as such (or, in Plutarch's case, one that would date earlier than Nepos). Critics (Moles 1989: 230–32; Tuplin 2000: 160–61) respond that Greek historians cite their predecessors too rarely, that they do so by name more than by genre, and that there is a likely tendency for later authors to cite the sources of their sources more than their intermediary sources. 16. Tuplin 2000: 126–32 (quote from 132); Moles 1989; Duff 1999: 7 n. 29 (compare Geiger 1985b: 38). Russell 1973: 106, although writing before Geiger, also advises caution: “It is perhaps wisest to renounce the attempt to construct a history of biographical writing in Hellenistic times.” Momigliano strikes a balance: he regards it as mistaken “to assume that what is lost never existed,” but he also warns of “the dangers of making inferences from later texts” (1971: 32, 88). 17. I share the view of McGing and Mossman 2006: x–xii, for whom the effort to identify biography's generic limits is “messy” but “evidently constructive.” 18. Geiger 1985b: 38, 114–15, who proactively tries to rebut the idea here quoted from Moles 1989: 231–32. Pelling 2006: 270 n. 11 supports Geiger (but compare Pelling 2011:13). See further Stadter 1988 for a survey of the features of the proem in the biographical writers of antiquity. 19. Geiger 1985b: 21–25, 103, 112–15. 20. Moles 1989: 231–32, citing, inter alia, Xen., Symp. 1.1 and Cic., Off. 3.1. Tuplin 2000: 138 agrees with Moles. 21. The careful discussion of Nepos' programmatic passages at Tuplin 2000: 132–42 judges that Nepos' motives within them are best seen as literary but not specifically generic. Tuplin repeatedly feels the absence of any overt claim from Nepos expressing his generic innovation (note also 2000: 159), yet he demonstrates how neither Geiger's nor Moles' overall interpretations are necessarily to be preferred. 22. Momigliano 1971: 11. He continues, “This is not a very profound definition, but it has the advantage of excluding any discussion of how biography should be written.” Stadter 2007: 529 elaborates to stress the role of the biographer in presenting the subject: “Biography I tentatively define as a self-sufficient account of the kind of life led by a historical person that also evaluates the subject's character, goals, and achievements.” For a wider survey of “the biographic” within the Roman Empire, see Swain 1997; McGing and Mossman 2006. For the history of biography from ancient to modern, see Hamilton 2007; Lee 2009. 23. Geiger 1985b: 14–15 (see also 9 n. 1), responding to Momigliano 1971: 34–42. Yet Momigliano 1971: 64 (see also 1993: 109–10) makes his position clear, and it is not inconsistent with Geiger's: “Before Aristotle, I would say that there were experiments of a biographical and autobiographical kind which normally were kept outside political historiography as transmitted to the fourth century in the models of

Herodotus and Thucydides.” Geiger's genuine opponent on this question, to whom Momigliano points, is Homeyer 1962. See further the surveys of Cox 1983: 3–12 and Burridge 2004: 67–76. 24. Tuplin 2000: 126–32. 25. See also Skidmore 1996: 39 and Bowersock 1998: 194, as well as Geiger 1985b: 50, 62–63 on works treating a series of rulers. The omission of orators would neutralize Moles' point about biographies of Demosthenes (1989: 232). 26. Tuplin 2000: 132, 138–39. 27. Geiger 1985b: 58. 28. Geiger 1985b: 16, 24–25. 29. Geiger 1985b: 15–18, 35–36, 47–51. 30. For the biographical features of Xenophon's corpus, see Stuart 1928: 60–90; Momigliano 1971: 46–57; Cox 1983: 7–9; Gera 1993: 1–13; Dillery 1995: 249–51; Tuplin 2000: 145; Stadter 2007: 529; Hedrick 2009: 431–32. 31. For the differences between this work and his History, see Polybius 10.21.5–8; Walbank 1957–79: 2.221–23; Geiger 1985b: 35–36; Gentili and Cerri 1988: 65–66; Duff 1999: 21–22; Tuplin 2000: 134–35; Stadter 2007: 531; Farrington 2011. 32. Our knowledge of these Pompeian accounts is in fact owed to Nepos: Marshall fr. 57 = Suet., De Gram. et Rhet. 27.2 (on which see Kaster 1995: 300–301). Momigliano 1971: 95 calls these works “biographies,” as Horsfall 1989:11 points out, but Suetonius refers to them as accounts of deeds (res gestae), noting (via Nepos) that their author was the first freedman to write history (scribere historiam). 33. Stadter 2007: 528–31 (quote from 528): “The notion of a genre of biography separate from history is useful only insofar as it helps the reader to understand the nature of the work, but depends upon a pact between author and reader which is renegotiated in every work.” For an exploration of the workings of this negotiation with a specific emphasis on ancient biography, see Burridge 2004. 34. An example in this category would include Atticus' book of portraits of Roman statesmen, under each of which, as described by Nepos (Att. 18.5–6), were four or five lines of verse describing their deeds and magistracies. 35. Nepos' Atticus became a specimen of this type in its second edition, though it more properly belongs to the class of literary biography (within On Latin Historians). Yet it is also, if indirectly, political (see Millar 1988), thereby demonstrating the problems of categorization Stadter emphasizes at 2007: 531 (note also Moles 1992: 315). Burridge 2004: 124–49 investigates the Atticus for its biographically generic features. 36. On the relationship between encomium and Nepos' practice in On Foreign Generals, see Tuplin 2000: 146–51; on autobiography and Nepos, see Geiger 1985b: 79–81. For the development of Roman autobiography, see Smith and Powell 2009; Marasco 2011. 37. Stadter 2007: 531. So also Momigliano 1971: 83: “Surely it is impossible to try to enforce a rigid separation of biography from the monograph centred on one man.” 38. E.g., Schepens 1989: 216: Geiger's “reader will perhaps be more impressed by the careful reasoning which underlies his argument than by the amount of unequivocal evidence he is able to produce in support of it.” For more critical formulations of the same conclusion, see Moles 1989: 233; Scardigli 1995: 18. Pelling 2006: 270 n. 11 expresses notably qualified doubt: “I am not sure Geiger is wholly right…, but he may be.” 39. Proponents of more generic fluidity between encomium, history, and political biography than Geiger: Momigliano 1971: 82–84 (and 1993: 116–17); Woodman 1977: 28–56; Gentili and Cerri 1988: 61–85; Horsfall 1989: 10–11; Moles 1989: 230–32; Lewis 1991: 3667 n. 173; Scardigli 1995: 17–18; Albrecht 1997: 464–76; Duff 1999: 17–22; Burridge 2004: 53–77; McGing and Mossman 2006: ix–xx; Pryzwansky 2009: 101–2; Pelling 2011: 13–15 (compare Geiger 1985b: 15–18, 45–51 and 2008: 40–44). For works that push at the boundaries between history and biography, see Pelling 1997, 2006; Kraus 2005b: 249–55. Perhaps the most challenging categorization is Tacitus' Agricola: is it a political biography, a “life of someone recently departed,” or a historical monograph? See Marincola 1999: 318–20; Whitmarsh 2006; Stadter 2007: 530–34. 40. Gellius (15.28.1 = Marshall fr. 37) makes a reference to “the first of those books which [Nepos] composed on the life [of Cicero]” (in primo librorum, quos de vita illius composuit). 41. He mentions it only in passing: Geiger 1985b: 28, 83–84, 100–101, 111–12, as does Tuplin 2000: 142.

Moles 1989 never mentions Nepos' longer biographies of Cato and Cicero, whereas Horsfall 1989: xvii and 10–11 keeps them firmly in view. 42. Geiger 1985b: 57; see also 18–9, 36, 79, 112. For the argument about length, see Geiger 1985b: 26–29, 103. 43. See Polybius 10.21.5–8; Geiger 1985b: 36. Stadter 2007: 531 notes that “individual lives address the special features of one person, and are frequently encomiastic,” but he still regards them as biographies. In fact, he regards the Philopoemen as “the most likely example of political biography” before Nepos. Yet see further Farrington 2011. 44. E.g., Onesicritus, on the classification of whose work see Moles 1989: 232. 45. Tuplin 2000: 131: “if one thing is clear it is that the best way of believing in the Hellenistic writing of lives of politico-military figures of the type under discussion is via compendious biographical works.” Remember, however, that he modifies Geiger's thesis to exclude monarchs, hence all works about, e.g., Alexander are unproblematic by definition. 46. Though if they were literary biographies on the scale of one book or more, then they would be further evidence of Nepos' nose for innovative literary forms. 47. Geiger 1985b: 82–84, 100–101. For Cicero's Cato, see Fehrle 1983: 285–91 and 322–24, with Lewis 1991: 3659–60. The larger context of the literary debate surrounding Cato after his death is well drawn by Taylor 1949: 162–82. 48. As Geiger 1985b: 101 and Horsfall 1989: 10–11 note, however, the publication of the Atticus while its subject was alive means that we cannot be sure the Cicero followed his death. 49. Geiger 1985b: 83 and 2008: 41 (with n. 55, where he cites Moles 1989 as his “most outspoken critic”). Geiger 1985a: 268–69 repeatedly describes the longer Cato and the Cicero as biographies, though not specifically as political biographies. 50. On the writings of Munatius Rufus, attested at Val. Max. 4.3.2 and in Plutarch's Cato the Younger, see Peter 1906: 42–44; Geiger 1979b: 48–57 (Griffin 1994: 713 n. 131 finds Geiger's characterization of this work as memorabilia and not biography to be implausible). Only the barest traces of Oppius' work are still visible: see Peter 1906: 48–49; Geiger 1985b: 83–84; Townend 1987; Pelling 2011: 49–52. Asconius (p. 48 bottom, in the Oxford Classical Text of A. C. Clark) notes that Tiro, in the fourth of his books “on the life” (de vita) of Cicero, reports an event of 56 BCE, which suggests that the work was likely several books longer. See further Peter 1906: 5–6; McDermott 1972: 282–84; Moles 1988: 29. 51. See Geiger 1985b: 78–84; Rawson 1985: 229–33; Horsfall 1989: 11; Lewis 1991: 3672–73. More generally, Lewis 1991: 3641–57 surveys the structures with which political careers were narrated in the late Republic (esp. in Cicero's speeches), arguing that Suetonius largely retained them in his Caesares. 52. Geiger 1985b: 84. Horsfall 1989: 11 comments that Nepos' “novelty is not eliminated, but our perception of his ‘uniqueness’ should have become a good deal blurred.” 53. Scholars have dated Varro's Hebdomades (Pliny, NH 35.11 and Gellius 3.10–11, with Geiger 1998) to 39 BCE and Atticus' Roman version of the same idea (Att. 18.5–6, with Horsfall 1989: 102) to the period 39–32 (Geiger 1985b: 81–82). Hence both likely precede the composition of On Foreign Generals, but perhaps not the whole of On Famous Men, since we cannot tell when Nepos began composition. See further Horsfall 1989: 11; Griffin 1994: 706–7; Geiger 2008: 36–49. 54. The list (= Marshall fr. 40) appears in Jerome's Preface to his own On Famous Men (see Halton 1999: 1–3). On its interpretation, see Geiger 1985b: 30–32; Momigliano 1971: 96–98; Baldwin 1983: 83–85; Kaster 1995: xxvi-xxvii, 176 (on Santra), 205–14 (on Hyginus); Albrecht 1997: 480–81. 55. Geiger 1985b: 112: “Whatever the claims of other writers to a first place in the history of Latin biography, Nepos' position as the innovator in taking over the Greek practice of organizing men into categories according to their individual fields of intellectual accomplishment cannot seriously be doubted.” 56. Moles 1989: 231 judges that “the implication [of passages like Reg. 1.1, Epam. 4.6, and Pref. 1] that Nepos is contrasting his own practice of including many biographies within a single volume with his predecessors' practice of producing single biographies of great length seems virtually inescapable.” Moles thus accepts that Nepos' novelty lies in his serial format. What Moles rejects—rightly, I think—is Geiger's contention that independent works of political biography did not exist before Nepos. One further clarification can be made. Moles argues not only that longer political biographies existed before Nepos but also that Nepos used them as sources (1989: 230–32). The claim is reasonable but not subject to

demonstration, since no such work is extant and since Nepos does not explicitly cite one. J. R. Bradley 1991 can demonstrate that Nepos worked directly from major Greek historians. The difference between Bradley (whom Geiger supports) and Moles emerges clearly when comparing Geiger 1985b: 34–35 against Moles 1989: 231 (and Albrecht 1997: 479 n. 6) on the interpretation of Epam. 4.6. But once Tuplin 2000: 132–33 resolves the dilemma alleged by Moles, I find more compelling the thesis that Nepos' primary sources were established historians, though I admit that he could also have used independent works of political biography (just as he worked from Xenophon's encomium of Agesilaus) but never directly cited them (so Tuplin 2000: 144–45). Titchener 2003: 88–90 also presents Nepos' method as drawing from historians (see 89 n. 9 for her comments on Epam. 4.6), but she does not relate her position to those of Geiger and Moles. 57. Stadter 1988: 280 tacitly accepts this conclusion, though he limits his claim to what is extant: “The Lives of outstanding generals by Cornelius Nepos represents a change of method from earlier extant biographies, offering a collection of short lives rather than an isolated study of one person.” 58. The choice of subjects in On Foreign Generals remains somewhat uneven, given the inclusion of some seemingly lesser fourth-century figures and the omission of such notable fifth-century commanders as Brasidas and Pericles (though note Dionisotti 1988: 36–37, 49). 59. For the significance of Nepos' contribution to the creation of a canon of appropriate subjects, see Geiger 2008: 42–44. For On Roman Generals, see further Geiger 1985b: 104–11. 60. See Dionisotti 1988: 49. 61. The summary treatment of the kings perhaps reflects the scale and contents of their treatment in Varro's Hebdomades, particularly since the kings listed in Nepos' digression are twice seven in number (Geiger 1998: 307; note also Titchener 2003: 96). Comparable biographical series devoted to monarchs in the Hellenistic period could have functioned as models for Nepos' On Foreign Generals. Nepos' own innovation in this case would be limited to designing a comparable series on republican statesmen, and his novelty would be the political significance of his choice of subjects, more than the creation of serial political biography in itself. For Plutarch's invention of serial imperial biography, see Bowersock 1998: 193–205; Duff 1999: 19–20, 28–29. 62. Overall, it is best to regard republican serial political biography as a subspecies of the genre of serial political biography and to leave Geiger's larger claim intact but here clarified for the purposes of my own thesis. To claim that Nepos' real invention is republican political biography is (with Tuplin 2000: 126–32) to exclude Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars from sharing Nepos' generic form, limiting extant examples of that form to Nepos' On Foreign Generals and Plutarch's Parallel Lives (Plutarch also wrote a series of Lives of the Caesars). Indeed, even in the case of the Parallel Lives, Plutarch expanded the series to include effectively mythical kings (Theseus-Romulus, Lycurgus-Numa), and so Nepos ends up entirely unique. That uniqueness likely reflects Nepos' political purposes for his books on generals, as well as their time of composition in the very final years of the triumvirate. 63. Gellius 17.21.8 = Marshall fr. 7 (endorsed at Horsfall 1989: 118). 64. Pliny, NH 33.146 = Marshall fr. 31. 65. See further Geiger 1985b: 23–26, 101–2, 111–15; Titchener 2003: 86–88, 98. 66. Geiger 2008: 41–42 comments that Nepos' collective focus is “a device enabling one to see the typical and representative, rather than the individually characteristic and distinct, in the persons treated, an emphasis quite opposite to what is expected from modern practitioners of the genre.” See further Geiger 1985b: 18–19, 103. 67. In Marshall fr. 58, e.g., Nepos acknowledges that since Cicero did not write history, Roman historiography appeared rough and inchoate compared to its Greek counterpart. 68. Thus I entirely reject the claim of Geiger 2008: 40 (see also Geiger 1985b: 116) that political biography was “a literary genre invented, very possibly without giving much thought to it, by Nepos.” 69. Millar 1988; Dionisotti 1988 (quote from 39). 70. See further Dionisotti 1988: 39–45, who bolsters the outlook of this passage with evidence from throughout On Foreign Generals. Her study thus repudiates the basic skepticism of earlier scholarship that Nepos himself could credibly offer his own perspective (e.g., Cartledge 1987: 418: “Cornelius Nepos moved in the highest Roman literary circles of the Late Republic, but his life of Agesilaos not only is brief but is so heavily dependent on Xenophon's Agesilaos as to be of no interest as a reflection of current perceptions”).

71. Dionisotti 1988: 49. 72. Millar 1988: 40. 73. With Millar 1988: 47–54, see also Horsfall 1989: 106. On the sources for republican history utilized by Augustus in his Forum, see further Chaplin 2000: 168–96; Geiger 2008: 25–51. 74. Millar 1988: 42–45 (quotes from 42–43). See further Hallett 2002: 263–66; Milnor 2005: 208–14. 75. See Millar 1988: 44–45; compare Dionisotti 1988: 45. I explore Nepos' presentation of Atticus as principled in Stem 2005 and 2009: 131–33. Moles 1992: 315–16 (followed by Conte 1994: 223 and Osgood 2006: 73–74, 221–25) characterizes the Atticus of the Atticus as an exemplum for future readers: the biography is “a sort of manual of how to do it,” i.e., how to not only survive but to prosper during tumultuous political times. 76. Millar 1988: 53–54; compare Dionisotti 1988: 39. 77. Dionisotti 1988: 45. She continues, “The way that Nepos does this is perhaps more significant: not by praising it as a matter of philosophic or political principle, but by emphasizing its difficulty, the selfless courage and strict morality that underpinned it, and how it benefited not just Atticus but all his friends and dependents.” 78. For the interaction of public and private in Suetonius, see Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 17–19; Lewis 1991: 3636–38; K. R. Bradley 1991: 3725–26. 79. Stadter 2007: 528–29 aptly summarizes how biographers treat their subjects: they “describe not just their achievements and failures but what kind of person they were, how they lived their lives, and whether they should be imitated,” and they do so through “treatment (when possible) of the whole life from birth to death, practical and moral evaluation of character and achievements and their interaction, assignment of praise and blame, use of illustrative anecdote, and a willingness to flesh out the portrait with verisimilar detail.” 80. Stem 2009 documents how a similar set of virtues is shared between the Epaminondas and the Atticus and thus how Nepos' endorsement of both men develops his judgment of their success at actualizing their virtues. 81. As Millar 1988: 45 notes, a “prominent eques in this period could not in fact help being part of the political scene.” Yet note also Conte 1994: 223. 82. See further Horsfall 1989: 53, who invokes for comparison Livy 39.40 and the rest of the favorable literary tradition surveyed by Astin 1978: 295–301. 83. On Cato 2.2, Horsfall 1989: 52 laconically notes, “for a similar lament cf. Ages. 4.2 and Att. 6.2.” It is to his credit that he recognizes the consistency of this perspective throughout Nepos' extant biographical corpus, but it is regrettable that he does not explore its significance. 84. Millar 1988: 40 (see also 42, 51). See also Lobur 2008: 81–89, who finds Atticus to be characterized as a consensus builder that inspired Augustus. 85. Millar 1988: 42. 86. Dionisotti 1988: 36.

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CHAPTER 4 Nepos the Exemplary Biographer The Exemplary Method and Purpose of On Foreign Generals Carlotta Dionisotti's reading of Nepos' On Foreign Generals, as discussed in the previous chapter, demonstrates how Nepos' comments on political issues imply “a specific view, as much political as moral, of what has gone wrong,” and Dionisotti centers that view on the failure of the republican commander to subordinate his private initiative to his public duty. “The issue that Nepos' imperatores raise,” she concludes, is the question of how a republic is to “cope with the power that inevitably accrues to a successful military leader.”1 For Dionisotti, Nepos is “no general moralizer” but a political thinker whose issues are “coloured in their choice and presentation by the events of his own day” in order to express how he “understood and interpreted the collapse of his country's political system.”2 His method is a form of historical commentary that stimulates the reader to assessment, and his purpose is to sharpen the keenness of that assessment. The goal of this chapter is to demonstrate how the techniques of exemplary historical writing clarify and advance this conception of Nepos' method and purpose. Exemplarity is a means of characterization that assigns praise and blame to its subjects and thereby develops them into examples that—good and bad—form an active and relevant guide to present conduct.3 The exemplary historical tradition was at least as strong in Roman culture as in Page 129 → Greek, and its effects were palpable in art and speech as much as in textual history.4 Funeral orations, ancestor masks, commemorative statues, and commissioned temples were all reminders of the claims of past individuals to remain relevant to the present. Rome was awash in such didactic stimulus to remembrance, and the Roman historiographic tradition seems to have embraced an exemplary function without hesitation.5 Its classic formulation comes in the Preface to Livy's history of Rome from its foundation, a project he undertook at nearly the same moment that Nepos composed On Foreign Generals.6 Livy asks his reader to consider, first, the lives and mores of those men who created and increased Rome's power (imperium) and, second, the collapse of the discipline behind those mores, a collapse that had extended down to the time of writing, such that “we can endure neither our vices nor their remedies” (donec ad haec tempora quibus nec vitia nostra nec remedia pati possumus perventum est, Pref. 9). Yet Livy is not quite as devoid of hope as that phrase might seem to suggest, for he then declares that he is offering his History as a salutary means for his readers to learn from the past. Perhaps they cannot restore the mores of old, but they can at least come to recognize what they need to emulate in order to go forward (Pref. 10): Page 130 → Hoc illud est praecipue in cognitione rerum salubre ac frugiferum, omnis te exempli documenta in inlustri posita monumento intueri; inde tibi tuaeque rei publicae quod imitere capias, inde foedum inceptu foedum exitu quod vites. [This is the particularly salutary and fruitful thing in the study of history: that you consider models of every example portrayed on an illustrious monument, from which you choose for yourself and your republic what to imitate and what—foul in its inception, foul in its outcome—to avoid.] Livy's account of the past is openly presented as a means to compare the past to the present, both for the individual reader and for his republic, and the grounds for comparison are inherently ethical. That which is to be avoided is the foul and the base (foedum), and that which is to be imitated are the lives and mores of those who made Rome great. Livy speaks not as a great man himself—as with Nepos, there is no evidence that Livy pursued a public career—but, rather, as one who has the confidence to reveal the past in a valuably didactic way.7

Nepos is not as explicit as Livy about his exemplary purpose. At the end of his Preface to On Foreign Generals, Nepos describes the book as being about the lives of excellent commanders (de vita excellentium imperatorum, 8), and at the beginning of Reges, he claims to have included the generals who seemed worthy of memory (duces qui memoria digni videantur, 1.1). Yet he nowhere explains what exactly he thinks makes a commander so excellent or worthy of memory that he merited inclusion. Instead, Nepos demonstrates through the conduct of his subjects what he judges excellent generalship to be and how his subjects do or do not embody that demonstration. As an explicitly comparative series of short, biographical studies about individual examples of distinguished military men, On Foreign Generals should be read for what Nepos says defines each man's character and for how he interconnects these individual qualities to define good and bad military and political leadership.8 Page 131 → For example, when Nepos exclaims of Agesilaus, “If only our commanders had wished to follow his example!” (cuius exemplum utinam imperatores nostri sequi voluissent, Ages. 4.2), the pluperfect optative subjunctive makes clear that this is an unrealized wish: Roman commanders had failed to follow this example, and Nepos rues their choices. Thus this wish is more than Dionisotti presents it to be—that is, a political observation about how the misranking of public and private duty had contributed to the fall of the Roman Republic—for it establishes Agesilaus' action as a favorable exemplum for his readers.9 It is an endorsement of conduct that Nepos wishes had been followed, and it is thus established as a model to be imitated. That it failed to be heeded as a model in the past does not disqualify it for the present. Nor is the model to be limited to those who might find themselves specifically in a leadership position like that of Agesilaus, for it is an assertion of a proper standard of conduct for anyone interested in acting virtuously as a republican citizen. Nepos, in other words, is presenting Agesilaus' choice as an exemplum in order to endorse a particular interpretation of Agesilaus' action: he “preferred a good reputation to the wealthiest kingdom, and he considered that it would be much more glorious if he obeyed the institutions of his state than if he subdued Asia in war” (Ages. 4.3).10 Thus, even though Nepos' exemplary approach is not as directly presented to the reader as Livy's, readers of both authors find a profitably overlapping exemplary perspective.11 Page 132 → The idea that biography plumbs the moral lives of its characters in order to endorse aspects of their conduct in exemplary ways is a familiar one. Frances Titchener, for example, declares that “the defining element of ancient biography is that the subject is being illuminated to provide an example for the reader.”12 But this is another occasion where the significance of Geiger's recognition of Nepos' invention of serial political biography needs to be emphasized. If exemplary characterization is a fundamental aspect of serial and comparative political biography, how did it get there? Geiger argues that Nepos drew his focus on praise and blame from the historical tradition within which he found his primary sources. The difference between a moralizing history like that of Ephorus or Diodorus and the serial political biography of Nepos has more to do with the type and amount of narrative detail than with the ethical purpose, and the same is true when comparing an encomiastic work like Xenophon's Agesilaus to Nepos' Agesilaus.13 Hence Nepos' novelty is one of generic form and comparative focus more than of subject matter, yet he still deserves considerable credit for infusing serial political biography with an ethical component similar to political history. The success of his exemplary instinct is demonstrated by the fact that serial political biography, as developed by Suetonius and Plutarch, preserved and deepened its ethical focus.14 Plutarch's Parallel Lives have been attentively studied for their explorations of virtues and vice,15 and Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars Page 133 → have been convincingly read as a serial means of establishing an “Imperial Ideal.”16 Even so, it can hardly be stressed enough that political biography is a form of historical writing, but it is not the same as history. Many of its purposes and methods are different, even when describing the same men and the same deeds. Although one purpose that biography and history share is to employ praise and blame in order to make examples of its great figures, history proper focuses on deeds (res gestae) and presents those deeds in the form of an extended narrative, whereas the biographer cares more about the mores of the individual who did those deeds. Hence the biographer's narrative is shorter, more staccato, and more focused on particularly telling aspects. In Nepos' most explicit extant statement of this focus (Att. 19.1),17 he declares, quantum poterimus, rerum exemplis lectores docebimus…suos cuique mores plerumque conciliare

fortunam.

[As best we can, we will teach readers by the examples of deeds that…the mores of each man generally brings about his fortune.] Readers who are looking for a complete account of events are hereby told that they will be disappointed. Specific examples of deeds (rerum exemplis) are the biographer's means to his end, usually in the form of anecdotes or Page 134 → discrete historical episodes, and the end itself is an understanding of the relationship of an individual's mores to his fortune, not the context of his deeds. Because the biographer's focus is on character more than deeds, the strength of the subject's character matters more than the subject's success in determining the course of events. Fortune is not always fair, and fame does not always properly reward what it should (see, e.g., Thrasyb. 1.1–3; Timoth. 4.6; Eum. 1.1).18 But the biographer can correct the fickleness of fame and fortune to some degree by putting the reader's focus back on the things for which his exemplary subjects are deservedly to be assessed, namely, their mores and how their mores shaped the conduct of their lives. Nepos is concerned to distinguish himself as a biographer rather than a historian because he needs his reader to understand how the biographer deploys his evidence if the reader is to learn from its presentation. Although his extant biographical corpus is only a sliver of On Famous Men, one can still find several programmatic statements that reveal Nepos' interest in helping the reader to understand his purposes and his methods.19 He explains the challenges most directly at the beginning of the Pelopidas (1.1): Pelopidas Thebanus, magis historicis quam vulgo notus. cuius de virtutibus dubito quem ad modum exponam, quod vereor, si res explicare incipiam, ne non vitam eius enarrare, sed historiam videar scribere: si tantummodo summas attigero, ne rudibus Graecarum litterarum minus dilucide appareat, quantus fuerit ille vir. itaque utrique rei occuram, quantum potuero, et medebor cum satietati tum ignorantiae lectorum. [Pelopidas the Theban is better known to historians than to the general population. I am uncertain how to set forth his virtues because I fear that if I begin to explicate his deeds, I would seem not to be narrating his life but to be writing history. But I also fear that if I touch upon only the high points, it would not be fully clear to those unfamiliar Page 135 → with Greek literature how great the man was. And so I will meet each problem to the best of my ability and alleviate both the abundance of the material and the ignorance of my readers.] Nepos' purpose is explicitly ethical. He wants to set forth the virtues of Pelopidas (de virtutibus…exponam) such that the reader can clearly see how great the man was. Yet he anticipates that some of his readers will not have much prior knowledge about the Theban, so he realizes that he has to provide enough context for Pelopidas' choices that his virtues are revealed to everyone. This is the sincerity of a teacher who wants to alleviate his students' ignorance. At the same time, he wants to get the balance right: only the high points would be too little to judge the subject's greatness, but too lengthy a focus on deeds would undermine the desired focus on virtues. By acknowledging these two extremes for the reader, he implicitly seeks to win the reader's approval for the middle ground that he says he will seek: a biography that presents virtues of character through the context of selected deeds.20 Hence Nepos employs a moral focus and a moralizing tone. For example, when relating how Dion's guards did not break through a locked door to save the tyrant of Syracuse as he was being assassinated, Nepos does not forgo the opportunity to remind his readers that tyranny does not pay (Dion 9.5): hic, sicut ante saepe dictum est, quam invisa sit singularis potentia et miseranda vita, qui se metui quam amari malunt, cuivis facile intellectu fuit. [In this instance, as has often been said before, it has been easy for anyone at all to understand how individual power is hated and how pitiable is the life of those who prefer to be feared rather than

loved.]

Such overt moralizing is found throughout On Foreign Generals; the biographer regularly offers judgments about human nature and the patterns of political life. Many of these judgments involve direct praise and blame but do so in generalizing terms, as with Dion in the above passage and, to take another example, with Conon (Conon 5.1): Page 136 → accidit huic, quod ceteris mortalibus, ut inconsideratior in secunda quam in adversa esset fortuna. [what happened to this man is what happened to other men, namely, that he became less circumspect in good times than he had been in bad times.] This comment, which introduces the events that led to Conon's death, is, in itself, a warning against recklessness, but the point is not limited to Conon's particular situation, and so the reader is invited to recognize the general point in addition to whatever else may be gleaned from the circumstances that follow.21 These generalizing moral maxims thus add flavor to Nepos' biographies, but not much spice. The average reader surely already realizes that tyranny carries risks and that overconfidence can be a problem: what is interesting is how character is formed and revealed within these moralizing frames. Hence the moralizing is part of the story but not the part that the reader most needs to study.22 Indeed, readers who stop with the most obvious lessons are usually the ones who do not find the reading interesting, a problem that seems to have affected Nepos' reputation more than most. As a form of exemplary historical writing, Nepos' political biography involves more than overt moralizing, for the reader is expected to evaluate an exemplum for the purposes of imitation and avoidance, not just to listen to banal moral advice spoken directly by the author. Such advice does help to guide the reader, and it ensures a frank didactic tone within the text, but the reader has much more to learn about, for example, Dion and Conon than just what these moralizing statements include. Usually, in fact, the moralizing statement itself gives way to a wider context that involves its exemplary perspective in more subtle ways. Page 137 → A perfect example of such a structure comes in Pelopidas 3. After Nepos has described how twelve Theban exiles, led by Pelopidas, returned to Thebes to wrest their city from Lacedaemonian control, he then says that he has to digress (3.1–3): Hoc loco libet interponere, etsi seiunctum ab re proposita est, nimia fiducia quantae calamitati soleat esse. nam magistratuum Thebanorum statim ad auris pervenit exules in urbem venisse. id illi vino epulisque dediti usque eo despexerunt, ut ne quaerere quidem de tanta re laborarint. accessit etiam quod magis aperiret eorum dementiam. allata est enim epistula Athenis ab Archino uni ex his Archiae, qui tum maximum magistratum Thebis obtinebat, in qua omnia de profectione eorum perscripta erant. quae cum iam accubanti in convivio esset data, sicut erat signata, sub pulvinum subiciens “in crastinum” inquit “differo res severas.” at illi omnes, cum iam nox processisset, vinolenti ab exulibus duce Pelopida sunt interfecti. quibus rebus confectis, vulgo ad arma libertatemque vocato, non solum qui in urbe erant, sed etiam undique ex agris concurrerunt, praesidium Lacedaemoniorum ex arce pepulerunt, patriam obsidione liberarunt, auctores Cadmeae occupandae partim occiderunt, partim in exilium eiecerunt. [At this point I would like to add, although it is divergent from my intended course, how excessive confidence is accustomed to lead to great destruction. The news that the exiles had returned to the city came immediately to the ears of the Theban magistrates. These men, because they were given over to wine and feasting, were so disdainful of this news that they did not even try to investigate about so great a matter. But here is the additional thing that makes their madness even more clear: a letter was brought from Archinus in Athens to one of them, Archias, who then held the highest office, in which

everything about the exiles' departure was fully described. But he was already settled at the feast table when the letter was given to him, and he placed it under a cushion, just as it had been sealed, saying, “I defer serious things until tomorrow.” But all these men, before that night was over, were killed in their drunken stupor by the exiles, led by Pelopidas. When that business was done, and when the people had been called to arms and to liberty—and they assembled from all directions, not only those who were in the city, but also those from the Page 138 → fields—they drove the Lacedaemonian garrison out of the citadel and liberated their country from siege. Some of those responsible for the occupation of the Cadmea they killed; some they forced into exile.]

The episode is introduced as a moralizing digression about the short path from excessive confidence to calamity. The Theban magistrates are so committed to their eating and drinking that they do not feel the need to respond to an immediate threat. Nepos declares this indulgent motivation directly and then provides the memorable details of Archias stuffing the crucial memo under his cushion in order to raise his glass again. Such a defining anecdote is a vital biographical technique, here used to good effect. But is the opening moralizing the purpose of the story? Perhaps it is initially, but the context develops quickly. It is a sign of Archias' madness (dementia) that he ignores the missive from Athens, and Nepos clearly judges him at fault for caring more about excess and pleasure than about duty and responsibility. But Nepos' moral instruction in this passage hardly ends with the advice that excessive confidence leads to destruction, or, more colorfully, that a magistrate should not get excessively drunk because he may be killed before he sobers up. The passage is also a statement about the dangers of tyranny, for it is as tyrants that the Theban magistrates are characterized here. They have exiled men of courage and leadership, from whom they suffer revenge, apparently justly. Moreover, when that revenge is announced, the people answer the call “to arms and to liberty” (ad arma libertatemque) and “liberate their country from siege” (patriam obsidione liberarunt). Such invocations of liberty are very positively charged and are not deployed lightly. The drunken Thebans are not just indulging themselves excessively but are also suppressing the liberty of Thebes at large, by holding it under what is presented as a siege. What their excessive confidence has actually overlooked is not simply that they should not drink so much but that their lives are at risk because they are ruling Thebes as a tyranny. As Nepos reminded us in his moralizing about the death of Dion, tyranny is a hated and pitiable life, and what makes that life so pitiable is the fact that the hatred could lead to fatal retaliation at any time from almost any source. Yet the Theban magistrates were too drunk to recognize even the most obvious threat of the exiles, which proves just how excessively confident they were. What the reader can learn from Pelopidas 3.1–3, therefore, centers on the moral corruption of tyranny compared to the moral nobility of liberating your country from such undeserving governors. The action of calling your countrymen “to arms and to liberty” is an action to Page 139 → be emulated, while the action of heedlessly suppressing the liberty of others is to be avoided. The addition of drunkenness and overconfidence to such suppression adds insult to injury but is not the real threat. 23 Larger patterns of exemplary behavior thus come into focus once the reader recognizes the political context that frames the moralizing, namely, the hostility to tyranny and commitment to liberty. This commitment is the dominant political sentiment in the book On Foreign Generals, and it defines Nepos' presentation of generalship as a republican one.24 Praise is directed toward those who preserve and strengthen the liberty of their states and their fellow citizens, while blame is directed toward those who weaken liberty or country. Generals are not to be valued for serving their own interests or the interests of any individual but, rather, are to be judged for their ability to advance the good of their state and their citizenry as a whole, especially when it means sacrificing their own personal security or reputation for that greater good. These fundamental political lessons of Nepos' biographies of generalship are not made explicit through direct moralizing but are demonstrated implicitly—as we shall see in the next chapter—through the anecdotal and character-oriented assessment of biographical narrative. As Livy formulates the goal of exemplary history, the reader is to choose for himself and his republic what to imitate and what to avoid (tibi tuaeque rei publicae quod imitere capias, inde…quod vites, Pref. 10). Nepos, the exemplary biographer, likewise sets out presentations of conduct by his individual subjects for the moral instruction and contemplation of his readers, and in doing so, he also comments on the decline in public virtue he

perceives within his own republic. Hence the biographical exempla he creates are simultaneously meaningful expressions of political criticism. Dionisotti argues that Nepos seeks to stimulate his reader to the consideration of the causes of republican political decline in the face of successful military commanders, and I agree. But I would add that behind this stimulation is a level of advocacy that is openly partisan in its endorsement of republican liberty. By shaping his subjects into exempla to be imitated or avoided, Nepos collectively establishes the standard that he judges the virtuous republican should follow. Page 140 → Inherent in his assessment of the decline of the Roman Republic, therefore, is his assertion that Rome's commanders failed to imitate that standard.

Exempla and Relativism The process of shaping the past in exemplary ways involves significant challenges of presentation and interpretation. If the Spartan king Agesilaus, for example, is to be an exemplum of dutifulness (pietas) for the Romans of Nepos' own triumviral period (Ages. 4.2), then the reader has to understand how to shift the exemplary deed across more than three centuries and from a Greek to a Roman cultural context. All the factors of the exemplum—what Agesilaus did, how Nepos frames it, and how the reader understands it—have to be plausibly aligned within an understanding of pietas. If the reader cannot make the cultural or chronological shift or defines pietas differently, the exemplary project fails.25 The navigation of cultural and chronological difference is particularly vital for Nepos' On Famous Men, since it is structured, on a monumental scale, to compare Roman and non-Roman achievement. At the end of On Foreign Generals, Nepos is explicit that the reader is to assess actively which Roman and non-Roman generals are to be ranked higher (qui viri praeferendi sint, Hann. 13.4), and the legitimacy of the comparison would be undermined if non-Romans suffered simply because of Roman cultural bias against non-Romans. The job of assessment requires some common ground on which the individual subjects can be directly compared, and for Nepos the political biographer, as for any exemplary historical writer, that common ground is ethical. The goal is for the reader to learn to imitate virtues and to avoid vices, and the definitions of the virtues and vices have to be normative and static across the relevant historical distance if the reader is to be able to apply the ethical lessons of a past event to present circumstances. What Nepos' exemplary discourse requires, in sum, is the acceptance of cultural relativism and the rejection of moral relativism. The virtues have to be timeless, but the contexts that inculcate them must be variable.26 Nepos himself clearly understands this feature of exemplary discourse, Page 141 → for he devotes his Preface to On Foreign Generals to addressing it directly. The Preface is brief (just over a page in modern editions) and leaves many issues unaddressed, but one thing it does do is urge readers to embrace cultural relativism in order to compare Greeks and Romans profitably. The Preface begins (1–3), Non dubito fore plerosque, Attice, qui hoc genus scripturae leve et non satis dignum summorum virorum personis iudicent, cum relatum legent, quis musicam docuerit Epaminondam, aut in eius virtutibus commemorari, saltasse eum commode scienterque tibiis cantasse. sed ii erunt fere, qui expertes litterarum Graecarum nihil rectum, nisi quod ipsorum moribus conveniat, putabunt. hi si didicerint non eadem omnibus esse honesta atque turpia, sed omnia maiorum institutis iudicari, non admirabuntur nos in Graiorum virtutibus exponendis mores eorum secutos. [I do not doubt, Atticus, that there will be very many who, when they read it recorded who taught Epaminondas music or that it is commemorated among his virtues that he danced well and played the flute skillfully, might judge that this type of writing is trivial and not sufficiently worthy of the legacies of the greatest men. But these will generally be people who, being unacquainted with Greek literature, will think that nothing has been done rightly unless it agrees with their own mores. If these readers will recognize that the same things are not honorable and base to everyone but that everything is judged by the standards of one's ancestors, then they will not be astonished that in setting out the virtues of Greeks we have followed their mores.] The final claim in this passage is a programmatic statement of considerable importance. Nepos reveals that his

purpose is to set out the virtues of the Greeks (in Graiorum virtutibus exponendis) and that his method to that end is to follow the Greeks' own mores (nos…mores eorum secutos). Hence Nepos posits a distinction between mores (customs and habits) and virtutes (virtues, as well as valorous deeds achieved by means of the virtues) and claims that he pursues his subject's mores in order to establish the setting within which to contextualize his virtues.27 Mores can overlap with demonstrations of the virtues, of course, and ethical judgments are often made from Page 142 → and about mores, but Nepos' point is that not all mores should be assumed to reflect significant ethical values. Epaminondas' dancing lessons, for example, typify the sort of custom that Nepos presumes some Roman readers might instinctively regard as ethically significant28 but that he posits as ethically neutral. When assessing the virtues of Epaminondas, Nepos implies, one needs to know much more than that he danced and played the flute. In fact, such activities may ultimately reveal something more significant about their subject, once one learns not to be prejudicial, which is why one has to follow the mores of the subject if one is to properly contextualize the virtues of the subject's life. It is specifically the virtues of Greeks that are mentioned in this passage; hence Nepos claims that he has followed their mores when setting out their virtues. But Nepos does not then say—as would be a reasonable minimum for his purposes—that his Roman readers should just allow Greeks to be Greeks in their own particular ways. That approach would have left Roman preferences for Roman ways unchallenged and would have retained an inherent cultural advantage for the Romans throughout the structured comparisons of On Famous Men. Instead, what Nepos offers is a rationale for why every culture judges the way that it does, namely, because “everything is judged by the standards of one's ancestors,” which is why “the same things are not honorable and base to everyone.” This explanation recognizes the power of cultural tradition, but without privileging any one culture (e.g., the Roman) over any other.29 Nepos elaborates on this point for the remainder of the Preface. He first cites the example of Cimon, saying that it was not base that he married his half sister, “since his fellow-citizens made use of the same practice.” He then immediately adds, “But this act is indeed to our mores considered unspeakable.”30 After this one named example, Nepos' subsequent examples fall to generalities: Cretans who are praised for having as many lovers as Page 143 → possible, Spartan widows who rent themselves out for dinner parties, Greeks who desire to become Olympic victors or are willing to appear on the stage or in a public spectacle. None of these pursuits would be considered base in Greece, Nepos says, whereas they are regarded “among us” (apud nos) as far beneath the dignity of an honorable person (humilia atque ab honestate remota, 5). Nepos then turns the argument around and declares that many Roman customs that are decorous for Romans are base to the Greeks (contra ea pleraque nostris moribus sunt decora, quae apud illos turpia putantur, 6), and again his examples are generalized from family practice or private life: having a wife accompany her husband to a banquet or even having her appear in the public areas of her own house. “This sort of thing happens very differently in Greece” (quod multo fit aliter in Graecia, 7).31 Through these examples, Nepos appears to feel that he has made his point sufficiently, and so he is ready to turn to the main subject matter for the book (8): Sed hic plura persequi cum magnitudo voluminis prohibet, tum festinatio, ut ea explicem, quae exorsus sum. quare ad propositum veniemus et in hoc exponemus libro de vita excellentium imperatorum. [But at this point the size of my volume prohibits me from pursuing more examples, as well as my haste to explicate those things that I have begun. Therefore we will come to our subject, and in this book we will set forth the life of distinguished commanders.] That the topic of the book is to be commanders comes as something of a surprise. Epaminondas and Cimon are indeed the only two named examples in the Preface, but nothing signaled that their status as distinguished commanders was the cornerstone of their inclusion in what follows. Some readers may therefore be unclear about the relationship of the rhetoric of the Preface to the contents of the biographies in the book that follows. Yet note how that rhetoric has already presented an unfavorable characterization of who those puzzled readers are likely to be. The opening sentence of the Preface anticipates that

many readers, when they learn who taught Epaminondas music, will judge that a biography that includes such a detail is trivial and unworthy of such a great man.32 Yet the sentence is cast as a Page 144 → preemptive complaint, directed to his friend Atticus, who here emerges as the dedicatee of On Foreign Generals. Nepos' dedication adds a layer of complexity to what is already a complex issue, for Atticus' very cognomen reveals his reputation as one who greatly appreciates Greek culture.33 Such a recipient—a Roman nicknamed for his Hellenizing ways—surely already knows the differences in mores between Greeks and Romans and how to account for those differences when making historical comparisons between them. Dedicating the book to Atticus thus honors him as a worthy cultural recipient for a biographical survey of predominantly Greek figures while it also allies the dedicatee with the dedicator on the need for readers to be open-minded about cultural relativism. Such open-minded readers are implied as a separate and more perceptive class of readers from the many who will reflexively judge Epaminondas' dancing, and through this implicit identification of two classes of readers, the rhetoric of the Preface proactively marks those who resist cultural relativism as the less perceptive group.34 Thus those readers who find themselves agreeing with the idea that knowing who taught Epaminondas music is a trivial thing soon thereafter find themselves characterized as being “unacquainted with Greek literature” (expertes litterarum Graecarum, 1). At the beginning of the Pelopidas, Nepos also expresses a concern that if he included only the high points and not enough of the narrative of events, those of his readers who are unfamiliar with Greek literature (rudibus Graecarum litterarum, 1.1) might fail to learn from his biography how great a man Pelopidas was. That Nepos acknowledges such readers at all is suggestive of his intended audience,35 but all it need imply is that his anticipated readers do not need a full understanding of Greek history in order to learn from his application of it. In effect, Nepos' acknowledgment of the value of cultural relativism for his comparative project amounts to a claim that his readers will not be foiled by cultural bias or historical ignorance if they trust him to present what they need to know. In the Lives that follow, Nepos ultimately expects his readers to follow his authorial lead and let him explain what his subjects' virtues are and why he identifies them as he does. Page 145 → Such an expectation defines the framework for exemplary discourse. Exemplary historical writing privileges the idea that the virtues and vices of human nature are constant over time and present within every individual. Readers who study exemplary history are believed to be able to utilize the models of past figures as aids in strengthening their own ethical predisposition, thereby better informing their reasoning when facing their own moral choices. Hence the tone of exemplary discourse is didactic and moralizing, grounded in the confidence of a normative set of virtues, and reductive of historical complexity into templates of virtues and vices.36 Since the virtues themselves are assumed to be timeless, they do not require formal definition or detailed discussion by the exemplarizing author. Summaries of a subject's virtues can occur without elaboration: Erat enim modestus, prudens, gravis, temporibus sapienter utens, peritus belli, fortis manu, animo maximo, adeo veritatis diligens, ut ne ioco quidem mentiretur, idem continens, clemens patiensque admirandum in modum. [He was moderate, prudent, serious, skilled in making use of opportunities, practiced in war, a brave fighter, with the greatest spirit, and so diligent about the truth that he would not lie, not even as a joke. He was also restrained, lenient, and patient to an amazing degree.] The subject in this case is Epaminondas (3.1–2), and such a list of clearly positive qualities establishes him as a positive ethical model. These are virtues to be imitated, and for these qualities, Epaminondas is to be imitated. This rationale is never explicitly stated, just as the virtues listed here are never explicitly defined, for the reader is expected to be familiar with the nature and purpose of exemplary discourse. Where the exemplary author is most likely to become explicit about the exemplarity of his subject, therefore, is where he feels the reader might reject his exemplary judgment. Hannibal, for example, as the greatest of Rome's enemies, seems an unlikely figure to be held up to a Roman audience for imitation. Yet Nepos opens his Hannibal with a striking claim (1.1): Page 146 →

Hannibal, Hamilcaris filius, Karthaginiensis. si verum est, quod nemo dubitat, ut populus Romanus omnes gentes virtute superarit, non est infitiandum Hannibalem tanto praestitisse ceteros imperatores prudentia, quanto populus Romanus antecedat fortitudine cunctas nationes. [Hannibal, the son of Hamilcar, Carthaginian. If it is true, which no one doubts, that the Roman people surpass all others in virtue, then it must not be denied that Hannibal excelled other commanders in prudence by as much as the Roman people exceed all nations in bravery.] If one is to focus primarily on the virtues, as Nepos claims to do, then one has to recognize the virtues wherever one finds them, even in one's enemies. On these terms, Nepos says, it cannot be denied that Hannibal deserves to be recognized as the supreme exemplum of prudence in command. Such a claim is plausible enough, given Hannibal's military successes, but it likely challenged certain cultural assumptions in Nepos' Roman readers, namely, the trope that the Carthaginians were faithless and thereby ethically inferior.37 Hence the exemplary status of Hannibal well demonstrates how a reader must be culturally open-minded (i.e., not all Carthaginians are base) in order to recognize a genuine virtue (i.e., prudentia) in an unexpected place. The successful reader will be the one who understands this point from the Preface and so can apply it to the Hannibal. This particular form of cultural relativism, however, does not involve an activity that is valued differently in a culture outside of Rome (e.g., Epaminondas' dancing lessons in Thebes). In fact, the challenge to recognizing the Carthaginian's supremacy in prudence results from Nepos' judgment that he practiced it in the same way that the Romans did, only better. Hence this form of cultural relativism is closer to what we might call nonpartisan relativism. What matters to Nepos is not which side of a conflict his subject fought for but the manner in which the subject acted. He will even endorse the exemplary conduct of both sides at once, as when he praises Agesilaus for the way he conducted his campaigns in Asia (Ages. 2.2–3.6) while also praising Conon for the way he resisted Agesilaus (Conon 2.3). Actions become exempla when an author frames them as such within a set of exemplary templates. Any action that can function as an exemplary illustration Page 147 → of a particular virtue or vice is fit into the template that frames that virtue or vice. The overall shape of each template is fixed to the degree that each virtue or vice is fixed, and the job of the exemplary author is to arrange the templates so that they frame individual actions in revealing ways for the reader. For Nepos, the agent of the exemplary action is not as significant as its content. Indeed, one of the animating forces behind On Foreign Generals is its deliberately comparative purpose. Nepos wants his readers to compare the best foreign generals to the best Roman ones so that readers can decide which are to be ranked higher. Hence it does not matter if an exemplary action is committed by a Greek, a Roman, or a Carthaginian. All that the ethnicity of the agent determines is the placement of the biography in either On Foreign Generals or On Roman Generals. It is the action itself that is relevant to Nepos' work, provided that it appropriately demonstrates one of the virtues or vices that he desires his exemplary templates to frame. By comparing one subject's example in one frame to another subject's example in another frame and then comparing the overall set of one subject's frames to those of another, the reader can find the grounds to make direct comparisons among a set of subjects. As the exemplary framer, Nepos controls how well his readers can succeed at their comparative project. Although his readers are still responsible for their own judgments and, in particular, for their comparative conclusions, how he selects and deploys his templates forms the dominant influence on what his readers see and how they see it framed. Nepos' templates for the virtues thus have to be universalizing so that individual examples of their instantiation can be evaluated.38 Cultural differences have to be collapsed so that comparison can be pursued from and within the preformed templates that frame virtue and vice in exemplary ways. The Preface explains this motivation, yet most of the time, Nepos collapses the differences himself through elision or syncretism. Greek gods, for example, are Latinized, so that Poseidon becomes Neptune (Paus. 4.4) and Athena becomes Minerva (Paus. 5.2; Ages. 4.6). Even when Nepos describes how the Herms (Hermae) were vandalized in Athens in the midst of Athenian preparations for the Sicilian expedition in 415 BCE, he mentions that the Page 148 → one that survived was called the Mercury (i.e., not the Hermes) of Andocides (Mercurius Andocidi, Alcib. 3.2).39 Most striking among these examples of syncretism is Hannibal's oath as a nine-year-old boy. The scene is explicitly set at Carthage, where Hannibal swears that he will never be a friend of the Romans, and yet Nepos has him do so before the Romans' supreme deity, Jupiter Optimus Maximus (Hann. 2.3–4). The whole point of the

anecdote is that Hannibal bound himself by oath never to acquiesce to Roman rule, and yet Nepos has him swear by the deity that the Romans believed most guaranteed their rule (as in, e.g., Virgil, Aeneid 1.254–96). The syncretism may seem jarring, yet for Nepos, the act of respectfully taking an oath before one's chief deity is the template in use here. Thus the name of the Carthaginian deity has been assimilated to the Roman equivalent so that the Roman reader can more easily conceive of the gravity of the act in direct relation to an oath sworn before Jupiter Best and Greatest. The gods, then, are the same throughout On Foreign Generals, and they are the Roman gods. The virtues are unchanging throughout On Foreign Generals, and they are the virtues Nepos finds to be normative and exemplary for contemporary Roman public life. Political institutions and practices are likewise the same, again drawn from the context of Nepos' republican Rome. On this point, in fact, Nepos aids his readers in perceiving his exemplary framework by digressing within the first Life of the book to explain his reasoning behind his elisions of political terminology. After describing the victory of the Athenians (and Plataeans) against the Persians at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE (Milt. 4.2–5.5), he praises it as the most noble battle fought up to that time, for a small force had defeated a much greater one (5.5) and, in so doing, had preserved the liberty of Athens and the whole of Greece (Athenas totamque Graeciam liberarat, 6.3). This characterization of the scale of the achievement then leads Nepos to make his programmatic comment (Milt. 6.1–2): Cuius victoriae non alienum videtur quale praemium Miltiadi sit tributum docere, quo facilius intellegi possit eandem omnium civitatum esse naturam. ut enim populi Romani honores quondam fuerunt rari et tenues ob eamque causam gloriosi, nunc autem effusi atque obsoleti, sic olim apud Athenienses fuisse reperimus. Page 149 → [It does not seem out of place to explain what sort of reward was granted to Miltiades for this victory, in order that it might be more easily understood that the nature of all states is the same. Just as the honors bestowed by the Roman people were formerly rare and slight and for that reason glorious, but are now lavish and ordinary, so it was once, we find, among the Athenians also.] Nepos then relates that the reward for Miltiades was that when the Battle of Marathon was painted in the Stoa Poikile, he was given the most prominence among the ten generals (or, as Nepos terms them, the ten praetors: in decem praetorum numero, 6.3): “But that same people, after it obtained a greater empire and was corrupted by the largesse of its magistrates, decreed 300 statues for Demetrius of Phalerum” (idem ille populus, posteaquam maius imperium est nactus et largitione magistratuum corruptus est, trecentas statuas Demetrio Phalereo decrevit, 6.4).40 This digression is crucial to comprehending the exemplary framework of On Foreign Generals, for it is characterized as an explanation that will help the reader to understand “that the nature of all states is the same” (eandem omnium civitatum esse naturam). Nepos' authorial comment that he deems it not out of place to teach (docere) this understanding to his reader emphasizes that the reader can and should make comparisons between, for example, Athens and Rome because both have followed a similar moral and political trajectory.41 Both states were glorious in their more humble beginnings, and yet both became so corrupted by their magistrates that their extravagances were rendered worthless. The stories of both are stories of political decline, and thus the reader's awareness of Rome's recent history will illuminate Athenian history, and vice versa. The ethical framework is the same, and the political framework follows from the ethical framework. The overlap extends even to the point of describing the Athenian generals as praetors and decrying the largesse of the Athenian magistrates—as if the Athenian magistrates were the regulators of the state's largesse and as if the praetorship existed in Athens. Nepos has been criticized for his supposed confusion in these institutional Page 150 → elisions, for it is historically misleading to impose the institutions of Roman republicanism onto Athenian democracy.42 But for the author of exemplary discourse, the merging of political institutions is analogous to the universality of the virtues. Holding the moral and the political framework steady makes the exemplary comparison all the more clear, for it allows the same republican template to fit Greek political life just as snugly as it fits the Roman.

Military affairs are hardly different, either, and recognition of this fact is another necessary precondition for the reader to be able to make comparisons between On Foreign Generals and On Roman Generals. Nepos again reveals his exemplary perspective when he comments on how Eumenes had to handle his Macedonian troops (Eum. 8.1–3): hiematum copias divisit, non ut voluit, sed ut militum cogebat voluntas. namque illa phalanx Alexandri Magni, quae Asiam peragrarat deviceratque Persas, inveterata cum gloria tum etiam licentia, non parere se ducibus, sed imperare postulabat, ut nunc veterani faciunt nostri. itaque periculum est ne faciant quod illi fecerunt, sua intemperantia nimiaque licentia ut omnia perdant neque minus eos, cum quibus steterint, quam adversus quos fecerint. quod si quis illorum veteranorum legat facta, paria horum cognoscat neque rem ullam nisi tempus interesse iudicet. [[Eumenes] divided his forces for the winter not as he wished but as the will of the soldiers compelled him, for that renowned phalanx of Alexander the Great, which had traversed Asia and beaten down the Persians, when both its glory and also its license had become well established, demanded that the troops not obey their generals but command them, just as our veterans do now. And so there is a danger that they might do what those soldiers did, namely, by their own extravagance and excessive licentiousness destroy everything, including their own fellow soldiers just as much as their opponents. And if someone were to read of the deeds of those veterans, he would recognize that the deeds of these men are their equal, and he would judge that there is not any difference between them except for their temporal setting.] Page 151 → Time separates the past from the present, but the deeds themselves—once a reader compares the deeds of Alexander's veterans then to the deeds of Rome's veterans now—are recognizably equal.43 For Nepos, it is precisely this recognition of equality between past and present that makes the framework of exemplary discourse relevant and valuable. What makes Nepos especially ambitious is his design of exemplary biographies in paired books along ethnic lines. Livy's History, for example, offers its readers the opportunity to compare earlier Rome to contemporary Rome, but Nepos urges his reader to compare figures from Greece and Carthage and Rome over a time span comparable to the duration of the Roman Republic. Ultimately, however, Nepos' point of comparison is Roman, since the paired books are collections of biographies of Romans versus non-Romans. Hence the cultural elisions—religious, political, and martial—privilege the Roman half of the comparison by eliding the non-Roman item into its Roman counterpart.44 The choice of subjects for On Foreign Generals, as I discussed in chapter 3, excluded those who held absolute dominion over their states (Reg. 1.1–2), for such control was incompatible with the republican command held by Roman generals. So, also, the Carthaginian Baal becomes the Roman Jupiter, and the Athenian strategos becomes the Roman praetor, for Nepos assumes that the nature of all republican states is the same (Milt. 6.1). Consider, for example, how Nepos introduces Miltiades: he was the most distinguished man of his generation, because of the antiquity of his family, the glory of his ancestors, and his own sense of restraint (et antiquitate generis et gloria maiorum et sua modestia unus omnium maxime floreret, 1.1). These are the criteria for success in public life in the late Roman Republic more than in archaic Athens: Herodotus tells a much different story about Miltiades' family and early career (6.34–41). But Nepos' purpose is to present Miltiades as an exemplary persona for public figures in late republican Rome; hence the basis for comparison has been shaped to fit that context. Likewise, when Nepos celebrates the exemplum of Agesilaus in obeying the summons home from his Persian campaign, he praises him, as he does Miltiades, Page 152 → for his restraint (modestia). His attribution of that exemplary quality, moreover, results from his interpretation of his source, which in this instance is Xenophon's Agesilaus.45 Side-by-side comparison reveals Nepos' method well: The content of the two passages is similar enough to give us confidence that Xenophon's passage is Nepos' source, but the differences are illuminating. Xenophon has Agesilaus obey his city-state ( ) and refers to the ephors by their number ( ), whereas Nepos deems him obedient to the magistrates (magistratuum). Xenophon

conceives of him, properly, standing in the Ephoreium, while Nepos renders him in the “comitium” at Sparta.46 Xenophon depicts him alone ( ) before the ephors, yet implicitly still as king, whereas Nepos imagines him as a private citizen (privatus), without any royal prerogative. In each of these three cases, Nepos modifies the cultural context from Greek to Roman (ephors to magistrates, Ephoreium to comitium, solitary king to private citizen). All this is done, furthermore, as part of the framing of the moment as an exemplary demonstration of restraint (modestia), a framing that is present but only implicit in Xenophon. Hence the differences between Xenophon's account and Nepos' are not due to the Roman's inability to transmit the contents of his source. The differences are due to the exemplary frame that Nepos imposes on the moment for his Roman audience. He is translating the cultural context from Spartan to Roman as much as he is translating the language from Greek to Latin. He is an exemplary biographer, not a scientific historian. That is not to say that Nepos does not recognize any cultural differences between Sparta and Rome. Where necessary, he explains the nature of the Spartan dual kingship (Ages. 1.2–3) and the role of the helots in Spartan Page 153 → society (Paus. 3.6). But he chooses to define Spartan institutions in Roman terms. Hence the ephors are described as those who possess the greatest imperium (penes quos summum erat imperium, Them. 7.2), and Spartan ambassadors are characterized as men who have discharged the responsibilities of the highest offices (legati functi summis honoribus, Them. 7.3). Athens, likewise, is allowed its peculiar institutions—such as ostracism (Them. 8.1; Arist. 1.2; Cimon 3.1: quod illi vocant)—but political decisions are still evaluated as if in a Roman context. When Themistocles persuades the Athenian people to build a fleet, for example, it is presented as a victory over spendthrift magistrates (Them. 2.2): nam cum pecunia publica, quae ex metallis redibat, largitione magistratuum quotannis interiret, ille persuasit populo ut ea pecunia classis centum navium aedificaretur. [When the public money that came in from the mines was being lost every year to the largesse of the magistrates, he persuaded the people that a fleet of one hundred ships be built with that money.] The obstacle here, as also at Miltiades 6.4, is not the democratic structure of the Athenian political system but the corrupting influence of the magistrates in charge of the public money. Hence the weakness, as Nepos presents it, is moral more than political, though political consequences will soon follow from Themistocles' bravery in overcoming the magistrates' moral lassitude. Such a context is once again closer to Nepos' conception of Roman reality than to his concern for Athenian reality.47 Nepos' active translation of non-Roman cultural ideas into his contemporary Roman republican context means that the reader only rarely has to practice for himself the cultural relativism Nepos advocated in the Preface. When Nepos does expect the reader to understand a point of cultural difference, he usually explains the need to do so. Eumenes, for example, served as the secretary (scriba) of both Philip and Alexander, and that position meant Page 154 → something more significant in the Macedonian court than it did in the Roman Republic (Eum. 1.5): eum habuit ad manum scribae loco, quod multo apud Graios honorificentius est quam apud Romanos. namque apud nos, re vera sicut sunt, mercennarii scribae existimantur; at apud illos contrario nemo ad id officium admittitur nisi honesto loco, et fide et industria cognita, quod necesse est omnium consiliorum eum esse participem. [[Philip] kept [Eumenes] at hand in the position of secretary, a position that is much more honorable among the Greeks than among the Romans. Among us, indeed, secretaries are judged hirelings, as in truth they are, but among them, on the contrary, no one is admitted to this responsibility unless from a respectable family and recognized both for his reliability and his diligence, since he is by necessity a participant in all of the planning.] Eumenes' position as secretary (scriba) meant that he was close to Philip and his decision-making process, as he would also then be for Alexander (seven years under Philip and thirteen more under Alexander; Eum. 1.6). The responsibilities of the position required a person of honorable lineage who possessed individual virtues such as

fides and diligentia. Hence Eumenes' position as scriba to the Macedonian kings is actually a significant indicator of his character and his importance, and Nepos explains that significance in direct contrast to what he presents as the Roman conception of such secretaries as mere hirelings.48 This is a clear case where cultural relativism is beneficial, and Nepos guides his reader to understand why. Right before Nepos explains the importance of the scriba at the Macedonian court, he reports that other Macedonians at court resented that the Cardian Eumenes was sometimes preferred to them, yet they had to endure it since his virtues exceeded theirs (Macedones eum sibi aliquando anteponi indigne ferebant, neque tamen non patiebantur: vincebat enim omnes cura, vigilantia, patientia, calliditate et celeritate ingenii, Eum. 1.3). Such a recognition is suggestive of Nepos' own method, by which he seeks to convince his reader that a bias against a subject's cultural mores should dissolve in the face of evidence that those mores lead to virtutes. A more limited example of the value of cultural relativism involves Nepos' Page 155 → treatment of Alcibiades' love affairs. Nepos characterizes Alcibiades as a strikingly diverse figure, exemplary for both his virtues and his vices at the same time, for he was never exceeded in either (nihil illo fuisse excellentius vel in vitiis vel in virtutibus, Alc. 1.1; cf. 1.4). In his youth, Nepos says, Alcibiades was loved by many in the custom of the Greeks (ineunte adulescentia amatus est a multis more Graecorum, Alc. 2.2), a phrase that suggests that we are here dealing with a question of mores that may (or may not) reveal virtues of character. Nepos then refers to the chaste example of Alcibiades and Socrates, as related in Plato's Symposium (Alc. 2.2; cf. Symp. 219c—d). But as that is not a typical example, Nepos returns to the topic (Alc. 2.3): posteaquam robustior est factus, non minus multos amavit, in quorum amore, quoad licitum est odiosa, multa delicate iocoseque fecit: quae referremus, nisi maiora potiora haberemus. [After he grew more mature, he had just as many more lovers, and in the course of loving them—insofar as it was possible to do odious things delightfully and playfully49—he did many such things, which we would relate if we did not consider other topics preferable and more important.] Alcibiades' love affairs are thus one of Nepos' demonstrations of his ability to combine virtue and vice in the same action. Nepos himself candidly judges these affairs to be odious (odiosa)—further evidence that his cultural relativism does not equate to moral relativism50—yet he still recognizes how they reveal the appealing playfulness inherent in Alcibiades' character. To that extent, therefore, they are worth the biographer's mention, but they are not in themselves significant enough or sufficiently praiseworthy for him to devote further space to them. Even so, Nepos again explains directly to his reader the degree to which cultural relativism needs to be applied in order to evaluate the topic in question profitably. Not all examples of cultural relativism in On Foreign Generals are addressed so explicitly, including one that Nepos singles out in the Preface: Cimon's seemingly incestuous marriage. When the Cimon begins, its subject is in prison until he can pay the fine levied against his recently deceased father, Miltiades (1.1; see also Milt. 7.5–6). Nepos then explains, more completely than he had at Preface 4, that Cimon had married Elpinice, his half Page 156 → sister on his father's side—thus the marriage was permissible under Athenian law—out of custom as much as love (habebat autem in matrimonio sororem germanam suam, nomine Elpinicen, non magis amore quam more ductus: namque Atheniensibus licet eodem patre natas uxores ducere, 1.2).51 Yet Nepos has not reported this unusual marriage simply out of interest in Athenian mores, for he next describes how Elpinice had a wealthy suitor named Callias who was seeking her hand for the price of the fine that kept Cimon in prison. This extraordinary scenario raises challenging moral issues, but here Nepos describes their resolution without authorial comment (1.4–2.1): is cum talem condicionem aspernaretur, Elpinice negavit se passuram Miltiadis progeniem in vinclis publicis interire, quoniam prohibere posset, seque Calliae nupturam, si ea quae polliceretur praestitisset. tali modo custodia liberatus Cimon celeriter ad principatum pervenit. [Although [Cimon] spurned such terms, Elpinice declared that she would not allow the offspring of Miltiades to perish in the state prison when she could prevent it: she would marry Callias if he

delivered on his promise. Freed from custody in this manner, Cimon quickly achieved preeminence.]

Cimon goes on to lead the city successfully (2.1–5), and Nepos describes him entirely favorably for the remainder of this short biography. The Life's brevity, in fact, contributes to the impression that Elpinice's decision to accept Callias' offer was the foundation of Cimon's public career. Of her motives, Nepos has her say only that she would not allow a child of Miltiades to die in prison if she could prevent it. Such a motive could have resulted from her recognition of Miltiades' service to the state and could thus be an exemplary indicator of her subordination of private feeling to her greater sense of public duty. Yet her private concerns may indeed be paramount, for she, too, is a child of Miltiades: Nepos has just explained that Athenian law allowed for marriage to a half sister from the same father (eodem patre natas uxores, 1.2). In the Preface, Nepos admitted that “to our mores,” such a marriage “would be considered unspeakable” (nostris moribus nefas haberetur, Pref. 4). But Nepos cannot allow his Roman reader simply to shudder at it, for it was Cimon's unusual marriage to his half sister that created the conditions by which his status was transformed from state prisoner to Athens' leading Page 157 → citizen, and Nepos wants his reader to recognize its significance. Yet he does not, in the Cimon itself, remind his reader of the need for cultural relativism, nor does he comment directly on the immediate link between the ending of Cimon's marriage and the beginning of his rise as a public figure. For that matter, he does not even assess either the ethics of Elpinice's choice to divorce her half brother in order to buy his freedom from prison or Cimon's acquiescence to that divorce on those terms. As with his reticence about Alcibiades' lovers, affairs of the heart appear to be a subject about which Nepos has little to say. His interest in private virtues of character does not extend to his subject's romantic or erotic judgments.52 This example thus further confirms that cultural relativism plays far less of a role in On Foreign Generals than the Preface to the book prepares its reader to think. Nepos elides or omits many cultural differences within an exemplary moral and political framework that projects the virtues as timeless and normative throughout a range of republican states whose nature is declared to be the same. Only a few cultural differences are deemed worthy of the reader's attention, and those are the ones that the biographer finds to reveal something about the virtues of the subject once the mores behind the subject's actions are contextualized. This conclusion brings us back to the example of Epaminondas, with whose education in music, dance, and flute playing Nepos opened the Preface. There Nepos imagined that some readers would judge that a biography that addressed such topics was trivial and unworthy of Epaminondas' legacy. But when Nepos begins the Epaminondas, he emphasizes that his readers should trust his choice of what to include, for the fact that he has included it should prompt them to consider how it reveals the man's virtues (Epam. 1.1–3): Epaminondas, Polymnidis filius, Thebanus. de hoc priusquam scribimus, haec praecipienda videntur lectoribus, ne alienos mores ad suos referant, neve ea, quae ipsis leviora sunt, pari modo apud ceteros fuisse arbitrentur. scimus enim musicen nostris moribus abesse a principis persona, saltare vero etiam in vitiis poni: quae omnia apud Graecos et grata et laude digna ducuntur. cum autem exprimere imaginem consuetudinis atque vitae velimus Epaminondae, nihil videmur debere praetermittere, quod pertineat ad eam declarandam. Page 158 → [Epaminondas, son of Polymnis, a Theban. Before we write about this man, it seems that the following must be understood in advance by my readers: that they not regard the mores of different cultures to accord with their own, nor that they think that things they themselves find rather trivial were equally so among others. We know, by our mores, that music is inconsistent with the character of a leading man, and that dancing is even placed among the vices, but among the Greeks, all these things are considered pleasing and worthy of praise. Since we wish to capture the likeness of the habits and life of Epaminondas, it seems that we ought to omit nothing that might pertain to clarifying that likeness.]

The final sentence is the most important: Nepos seeks, in his biography, to create a likeness of the habits of the man's life, and he has included whatever he feels contributes significantly to clarifying that likeness. His reader is therefore not to second-guess him as a result of the reader's own mores, for the subject's mores may reveal something virtuous about his life that the bias of unperceptive readers prevents them from seeing. That this point from the Preface is repeated at the beginning of this biography marks the Epaminondas programmatically as the biography through which Nepos especially wants his reader to realize that the same things are not trivial to everyone. One way of understanding the importance of Epaminondas' education in the Greek arts of music, dancing, and flute playing would be to view them primarily as a benign part of the recognized cultural education of his city and time. Yet if Nepos were content to let these activities be understood primarily as background interests, then there would be little reason for him to focus on them so programmatically. Instead, what he says is that he wishes to capture the likeness of the habits and life of the man (exprimere imaginem consuetudinis atque vitae) and therefore to omit nothing that pertains to that likeness (1.3). So when Nepos describes Epaminondas' Greek education with the amount of detail that he does (2.1–3), he is signaling to his readers that this education contributed to the life of the man. He claims that Epaminondas' education was such that no Theban had more (eruditus autem sic ut nemo Thebanus magis, 2.1), and he names his teachers for music, flute, and dance, as he hinted he would at the opening of the Preface. Then he turns to Epaminondas' philosophical training (2.2–3): at philosophiae praeceptorem habuit Lysim Tarentinum, Pythagoreum: cui quidem sic fuit deditus, ut adulescens tristem ac severum Page 159 → senem omnibus aequalibus suis in familiaritate anteposuerit neque prius eum a se dimiserit, quam in doctrinis tanto antecessit condiscipulos, ut facile intellegi posset pari modo superaturum omnes in ceteris artibus. atque haec ad nostram consuetudinem sunt levia et potius contemnenda; at in Graecia, utique olim, magnae laudi erant. [But as his instructor in philosophy he had Lysis of Tarentum, a Pythagorean, to whom in fact he was so devoted that the young man ranked that dour and severe old man above all of his friends his own age, and he would not allow his teacher to leave him until he so far surpassed his fellow students in learning that it could readily be understood that in a similar way he would surpass all men in other accomplishments. By our convention, these studies are trivial or, rather, contemptible, but in Greece, especially in times past, they were highly esteemed.] Once again we find the apparent concern that some cultural details will be regarded as trivial (levia: so also Pref. 1; Epam. 1.1), but it is here matched by a claim that is more directly relevant for understanding the historical significance of Epaminondas. Philosophy in itself may be a trivial subject of study for some of Nepos' readers,53 but what Nepos develops from this anecdote is that from Epaminondas' amazing, intense desire for preeminence in his schoolboy education, one could readily understand “that in a similar way he would surpass all men in other accomplishments” (pari modo superaturum omnes in ceteris artibus).54 The significance of Epaminondas' Greek education, therefore, is how thoroughly he mastered it. He did not just dance and play the flute; he did so harmoniously and skillfully (commode, scienter, Pref. 1). He did not merely comprehend the philosophical doctrines; he placed himself at the top of his class.55 Nepos makes this point early in the biography, stressing Epaminondas' education by using it as the example with which to trigger his readers' cultural relativism, and then he returns to it at the very end of this Life. Nepos' final claim about Epaminondas is that he was the only Theban who had ever Page 160 → led his city to preeminence in Greece. His particular exemplarity, in other words, is that he exceeded his city's tradition (10.4): Huius de virtutibus vitaque satis erit dictum, si hoc unum adiunxero, quod nemo ibit infitias, Thebas et ante Epaminondam natum et post eiusdum interitum perpetuo alieno paruisse imperio, contra ea, quamdiu ille praefuerit rei publicae, caput fuisse totius Graeciae. ex quo intellegi potest unum hominem pluris quam civitatem fuisse. [About the virtues and the life of this man enough will be said if I add this one thing, which no one will deny: Thebes, both before the birth of Epaminondas and after his death, was always obedient to

the rule of another, but as long as he was in charge of the state, [Thebes] was the head of all Greece, from which it can be understood that one man was of more value than [the rest of] the citizenry.]

Epaminondas changed the historical condition of his republic (rei publicae) for as long as he led it, a fact that “no one will deny” and that defines him as clearly worthy of inclusion in the biographical collection On Famous Men. He led because of his virtues (virtutibus), and he made Thebes the head (caput) of its region, which, in turn, indicates what Nepos deems the proper means and the final goal of a commander's political life. Thematically, therefore, this drive for preeminence becomes Epaminondas' motivation throughout his life, for it was already visible in the philosophical education of his youth, when “he so far surpassed his fellow students in learning that it could readily be understood that in a similar way he would surpass all men in other accomplishments” (2.2). Such continuity in Epaminondas' desire for preeminence culminates in his leadership of Thebes to its unprecedented ascendancy, and Nepos thereby deploys Epaminondas' exceptionalism as the unifying theme of this Life. Since Nepos claimed, near the beginning of this biography, that he would omit nothing pertinent to capturing the life of his subject (1.3), he cannot just ignore Epaminondas' Greek education. To do so would be to ignore what he sees as the seed of the preeminence that will define Epaminondas' service to his city. It is the job of the biographer to draw attention to such germinated seeds and to write the life of a man such that his readers can see how those seeds grew. But to identify the seeds of Epaminondas' greatness in an education that added music and dance to its study of philosophy is to risk allowing Roman prejudice about these subjects to overwhelm their actual relationship Page 161 → to deeds that most Romans would otherwise admire. Hence Nepos addresses the problem of cultural prejudice directly through his introductions to this Life and to the book in which it appears. By directly reminding his readers that not everyone's mores are the same, he intensifies the reader's focus on the aspect of Epaminondas' education that he then portrays as demonstrating the successful habits of his life. The Epaminondas is an especially illuminating example of Nepos' methods. Given the emphasis placed on it by the invocation of his example at the outset of the Preface, this is not surprising. The Epaminondas also highlights how Nepos' introduction and conclusion of a biography can offer important interpretive clues for its dominant theme. That theme emerges from a telling anecdote, one that reveals the subject's character as suggestively as a long narrative of his deeds would. The biography thereby offers a judgment of a public figure from aspects of his private life, and it does so explicitly in terms of virtues and vices, with their attendant moral praise and blame. The traditional virtues are to be understood as qualities to be imitated, and their value in the individual is reflected in the quality of that individual's contributions to his state. The reader who would wish to lead his state to preeminence has a model to imitate after reading Nepos' Epaminondas. To perceive the overall method and purpose, however, is not yet to determine the specific lessons that Nepos points the biography to teach, which will be the concern of the next chapter. 1. Dionisotti 1988: 39, 49. She continues (49), “Nepos was surely right to see this as a central problem when he wrote. His exploration of Greek history in this light might not offer any practical solutions, history rarely does; explaining ostracism to the Romans was not to suggest that they either could or should institute it. But I think Nepos' effort to understand the problem is both interesting and worthy of respect.” 2. Dionisotti 1988: 45, 36. 3. On the interactive roles of past, present, and future in exemplary discourse, see Chaplin 2000: 197–202; Roller 2004: 32–38. Hedrick 2006: 1–26 compares the cultural underpinnings of exemplary discourse to those of academic historicism today. 4. Mayer 1991:143 argues that Seneca's aspiration to be exemplary is “something essentially Roman.” Roller 2004 (also 2009) establishes a comprehensive model for exemplary discourse in Roman culture. The model articulates four stages: a consequential deed, a primary audience that assesses the deed in ethical terms, commemoration by and for secondary audiences, and imitation in subsequent deeds that become consequential and so renew the cycle. Roller's approach is deliberately diachronic and emphasizes the malleability of exempla over time (see Chaplin 2000 for repeated demonstrations of such malleability within Livy). To document the exemplary techniques of a biographer like Nepos is to focus on one act of

commemoration at one point in time. We can study the manner in which he constructs his subjects in order to frame their exemplarity, but we cannot know what effect he actually had on his readers. What I am examining, therefore, is not what range of exemplary possibilities existed for Nepos' subjects or any imitative consequence of his commemoration but, rather, the collective force of his exemplary constructions in On Foreign Generals. 5. See Litchfield 1914 for an impressive attempt to compile a complete list of the Roman exempla virtutis (Nepos' generals, as non-Romans, are absent). For the exemplary tradition in ancient literature down to the end of the Roman Republic, see Skidmore 1996: 3–21; Chaplin 2000: 1–31 (as well as 168–96 for exempla in the Augustan period, with Gowing 2005: 18–24, 136–45). For the imperial period, see Mayer 1991 (on Seneca); Duff 1999: 13–71 (on Plutarch); Kraus 2005a (on the figure of the emperor); G. Kelly 2008: 256–95 (on Ammianus); Gowing 2009 (on Appian and Dio). Some of the interpretive challenges in reading literary exempla are demonstrated in Goldhill 1994 and Lowrie 2007. For the importance of oral and material stimuli as well as textual, see Bell 2008; H. I. Flower 2009. Nepos himself, of course, wrote the first attested Exempla in Latin letters, as discussed in chapter 2. 6. The precise dating of Livy's initiation of his first pentad is debated (Luce 1965; Woodman 1988: 132–35; Badian 1993b: 13–19; Burton 2000) but likely falls within the period 33–29 BCE. I find compelling Badian's suggestion of 30 BCE (Stem 2007: 438 n. 14). As argued in chapter 1 of the present study, Nepos' On Foreign Generals can be dated to 35–32 BCE. 7. Note Roller 2004: 7–8: “For a Roman, the question of what the past is, and what it is for, is closely tied up with the monuments that mediate his or her encounters with the past—monuments in narrative, plastic, or other form—that sort actions into various ethical categories and then represent them as deeds to later audiences in an injunctive, hortatory rhetorical mode.” Hence Chaplin 2000: 4 is right to say that “Livy's programmatic statement is, after all, a call to action.” See further Moles 1993a: 150–55; Kraus and Woodman 1997: 51–56; Levene 2006: 101–6. More generally on the Roman view of history and memory at the end of the Republic, see Gowing 2005: 1–27. 8. Compare Stadter 2007: 532: “Nepos wrote a work for casual consultation, Suetonius a survey of autocratic rule, Plutarch examinations of statesmen as moral agents.” I would argue that all three biographers wrote “examinations of statesmen as moral agents” but approached the task differently. For the importance of the presentation of character in ancient political narrative, see Stadter 2009, who argues, e.g., that Plutarch's “analysis of character in the Lives was meant to heighten his reader's awareness of the effect of character upon their lives and their societies” (466). 9. Dionisotti speaks of “paradigm cases” (1988: 43, 47), she says that Nepos' “Conon…gives a fine example of the way to behave” (43), and she moves from a discussion of Nepos' characterization of Pausanias' individualism to the claim that “Nepos' readers might recall plenty of more recent examples; and I think he meant them to” (44). Hence she implicitly evokes an exemplary method in her analysis, but she never openly contextualizes it as fundamental to Nepos' method or purpose. One way to define the difference in our approaches is to say that she casts Nepos as a scholarly observer while I would cast him, on the model of Roller 2004, as an exemplary commemorator. Another way to define the difference, on the model of Pelling 2002: 237–51, is to say that Dionisotti finds Nepos more of a descriptive moralizer while I find him more of a protreptic one. On either conception, Dionisotti's study is fundamental for recognizing how Nepos is a political thinker as well as a moralizer. 10. Ages. 4.3: Agesilaus opulentissimo regno praeposuit bonam existimationem multoque gloriosius duxit, si institutis patriae paruisset, quam si bello superasset Asiam. 11. Both, in other words, can be profitably read in light of Chaplin's properly broad definition of an exemplum (2000: 3): “Any specific citation of an event or an individual that is intended to serve as a guide to conduct is an exemplum and hence an opportunity to learn from the past.” Specimens of exemplary historical writing, as Duff 1999: 52 describes Plutarch's Lives, “lend themselves to the extraction of practical moral lessons for the reader's own implementation and edification.” For the need to conceive of exempla broadly, see further Bell 2008: 4–6. 12. See further Titchener 2003: 85–88 (quote from 88); McCarty 1974; Cox 1983: 12–16; Geiger 1985b: 21–26; Wiseman 1987b: 259; Tuplin 2000: 145–51. 13. See Pownall 2004 for the role of exemplary moralizing in Ephorus (on Ephorus and Diodorus, see also Stylianou 1998: 84–132), Theopompus (on whom see also M. A. Flower 1994), and Xenophon (on whom

see also Gray 1989; Dillery 1995: 123–254). For the tradition of these historians in Diodorus, see Sacks 1990: 23–35; Stylianou 1998: 3–14; Green 2006: 7–34. For discussion of the ethical purpose of ancient historiography, see Wiseman 1979: 37–40; Fornara 1983: 104–20; Rutherford 1994; Marincola 1997: 19–33; Hedrick 2009. 14. See Geiger 1985b: 23–29, 102–3, who argues that Suetonius and Plutarch found Nepos' serial format valuable but the short length of his Lives too limiting: hence they expanded the level of detail but retained the ethical framework supported through serial comparison. Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 66–72 stresses the difference in scale and ethical focus between Suetonius' intellectual biography (On Famous Men) and his political biography (Caesares), yet he does not suggest any credit to Nepos for establishing such a distinction. Lewis 1991 argues that Suetonius' literary antecedents were primarily the Roman forensic and historical traditions already well established in the Republic (note also Vasaly 2009: 245–47), yet Lewis, too, sees little influence from Nepos (1991: 3667). 15. For exemplary moralism in Plutarch, see esp. Duff 1999; Pelling 2002 (esp. 237–51); Brenk 2008. Shipley 1997: vii describes his approach well: “Inculcation, the concern of the moral biographer, begins with presentation of examples. But Plutarch saw that presentation was not paramount. As in visual art, so in biography, the mind as well as the eye must be engaged: literary representation of virtuous action—image rather than reality—will attract the reader, but in the development of character the formative agent is the intellect” (see further 2–9). 16. For what makes an emperor good or bad to Suetonius, see Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 110–205; Lewis 1991; and esp. K. R. Bradley 1985: 259–65 and 1991, who coins the term “Imperial Ideal” (note also Pryzwansky 2009: 100 n. 13). K. R. Bradley 1991: 3713 overstates his case, however, when he declares that the Caesares “lack all didactic purpose,” since “the only person to whom imperial biography could have instructive value was the emperor.” That is to define the audience for ethical instruction too narrowly (compare Duff 1999: 26–27 [on Tacitus], 3742, 66–71 [on Plutarch]). Suetonius was writing not merely for the emperor of the moment but for all—both then and since—who would seek to evaluate the practices and the ethics of the first twelve Caesars. Whoever looked to the emperor as an exemplum would have been wise to learn by comparison from the habits of previous emperors. Moreover, how an emperor was to be remembered was a negotiation that accelerated at his death, and Suetonius' influence on such remembrance has proven enormous. More apt is Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 24: “Suetonius does not seek to instruct a Caesar how to behave; rather he analyses how Caesars did behave against a background of assumptions about imperial behaviour.” Phrased this way, K. R. Bradley 1991: 3715 agrees: “Suetonius set out in his work to compare the emperor's natural disposition with the ideal that had been formulated by the time of writing.” I would stress that such comparative analysis is highly didactic (exemplary, even) for those who have an interest in evaluating the Caesars, and I see Nepos' On Foreign Generals as similarly didactic for a Roman audience who likely knew much less about the book's subjects beforehand (note Dionisotti 1988: 36–38). 17. Compare Att. 11.6: sui cuique mores fingunt fortunam hominibus (“Each man's mores form his fortune”), on which see also Stem 2009: 133. See McCarty 1974: 386–88 for the role of such sententiae in Nepos. 18. See further Beneker 2009: 114–16. 19. On the programmatic passages of Nepos (Pref.; Epam. 1; Pel. 1; Timoth. 4.6), see further Jenkinson 1973: 709–11; McCarty 1974: 383–86; Horsfall 1982: 291 and 1989: 29–30, 113–16; Geiger 1985b: 21–26, 37–38, 112–15; Stadter 1988: 280; Moles 1989: 230–32; Albrecht 1997: 483–84; Tuplin 2000: 132–42; Titchener 2003: 86–88; Anselm 2004: 51–57, 69–72; Pelling 2006: 270 n. 11; Stem 2009: 123–26; and esp. Beneker 2009. No programmatic moralizing statement can be found in Suetonius (perhaps one appeared in the lost introduction to the Divus Iulius: note Stadter 1988: 280), but such passages in Plutarch (Alex. 1.1–3; Timol. 1.1–4; Nic. 1.5) seem consistent with those of Nepos, although much more elaborate: see Duff 1999: 13–51. I discuss Nepos' Preface and the opening of the Epaminondas in the next section of this chapter. 20. Note Tuplin 2000: 154: “Put simply, what the Foreign Generals does is offer quite large amounts of factual information (accurate or otherwise) and evaluative commentary…[as] material for those of a judgmental frame of mind, or with judgmental purposes in view, historia plus virtutes” (see further 158–59, as well as 134 on the rhetoric of Pel. 1.1). 21. In both this example and in the one involving Dion just quoted above, Timoleon is the positive counterexample: see Timol. 1.2 and 3.4.

22. As Pelling 2002: 238 puts it so well for Plutarch's Lives, “Is the moral of Antony the encouragement to public men to control their sexuality, for ladies like Cleopatra might be catastrophically distracting? Is Coriolanus or Marius a simple lesson in the need for education and flexibility? Are we to assume an audience which really needed telling these things, all agog for any Cleopatra which came along, all arrogantly proud of their lack of education or their class-bound inflexibility? These, surely, were morals which everyone already knew all too well.” Duff 1999: 53–54 describes implicit versus explicit moralism, and he also (66–71) discusses Pelling's characterization (2002: 237–51) of descriptive and protreptic moralizing. Nepos is a much simpler moralizer than Plutarch, for he is more expository than exploratory, more protreptic than descriptive, yet he is capable of implicit as well as explicit moralizing, as Dionisotti 1988 was the first to see. 23. Insensitive to Nepos' methods, Jenkinson 1973: 710 cites this passage as evidence for the “biographer's penchant for introducing even totally irrelevant subject-matter, if this can help him to drive a moral lesson.” Horsfall 1982: 292 likewise claims that Nepos here “cheerfully admits to irrelevant digression.” 24. So Dionisotti 1988. Compare what Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 144 calls Suetonius' “litmus test” for a emperor: a “good emperor will show up positively on the tests of clemency, civility, liberality and continence, a tyrant negatively on the same tests.” The defining issue is no longer liberty but the relative balance of virtues and vices within the ruling individual (see further Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 142–74, 200–202). 25. Velleius 2.3.3–4 notes how easy it is for an exemplum to wander from the right path (recto deerratum) and thereby get away from you, especially in times of civil war, when the rule of law gets overwhelmed by violence (ius vi obrutum). 26. Stem 2009 (esp. 125–26) argues that the common ground between Nepos' subjects is ethical and normative. For ethical continuity as a necessary prerequisite for exemplary discourse, see Roller 2004: 32–38 and 2009: 214–16. For its application in Seneca, see Mayer 1991: 165–69; for Plutarch, Pelling 2002: 239–43. 27. The terms mores and virtutes possess a wide semantic range (see Earl 1967; McDonnell 2006), but Nepos is working narrowly here, making a distinction between them that clarifies his biographical method. 28. See, e.g., Cic., Mur. 13, yet note Wallace-Hadrill 1983: 181–82 for changing tastes under the Caesars. 29. On Nepos' cultural relativism, see further Dionisotti 1988: 43; Conte 1994: 222–23; Tuplin 2000: 139–42; Narducci 2004: 150–58. Horsfall 1989: 113–16 offers helpful commentary on Nepos' individual examples in the Preface. The openly competitive Greco-Roman cultural comparison at the opening of Cicero's Tusculans (1.1–8) forms a valuable and largely contemporary contrast to Nepos' Preface. Dionisotti 1988: 38 finds that “the comparative and competitive approach…was the only approach to Greek history that had any currency” in Cicero's generation. 30. Pref. 4: neque enim Cimoni fuit turpe, Atheniensium summo viro, sororem germanam habere in matrimonio, quippe cum cives eius eodem uterentur instituto. at id quidem nostris moribus nefas habetur. At Cimon 1.2, Nepos explains that it is permitted for Athenians to marry a sister born from the same father (i.e., a half sister). 31. Milnor 2005: 133–39 contextualizes the paradigmatic nature of this example of Greek and Roman domestic difference; see also Hallett 2002: 256–59. 32. The judgment that this type of writing is trivial (hoc genus scripturae leve et non satis dignum, Pref. 1), in other words, is limited to the particular reason given here, i.e., that it includes details that certain readers find to be trivial and thus unworthy of the greatness of its subject (note Moles 1989: 231–32). Jenkinson 1973: 709 (and in the very title of that article), who misreads the sentence to claim that Nepos is presenting biography as a trivial genre overall (so also Bowersock 1998: 193–94), is corrected by Geiger 1985b: 22 and 113–14, who persuaded Horsfall to retract his acceptance of Jenkinson's claim (compare Horsfall 1982: 291 and 1989: 113). 33. For Cicero on the cognomen Atticus, see Sen. 1 and Fin. 5.4. 34. So Beneker 2009: 109–13, an essential reconsideration of this passage, building from Stadter 1988: 280, Pelling 2002: 267–82, and Titchener 2003: 92–94. 35. See Horsfall 1989: xix–xxi and 113, but note the response of Tuplin 2000: 136–42 and Beneker 2009. I address this topic further in the conclusion to this book. 36. Morgan 2007: 128 observes that “in exemplary stories, it is what one might call the ‘moral truth’ that

matters, not ‘what really happened.’” Note also Skidmore 1996: 8: “from Isocrates arose the idea of guidance taken from historical rather than poetic characters, and the idea that the distortion of facts is excusable if its aim is the betterment of the morality of the individual.” For the complexities of moralism and truth in Plutarchan biography (and ancient historiography broadly), see further Duff 1999: 52–71; Pelling 2002: 143–70. 37. For the complexities of the stereotype of Punic faithlessness, see Starks 1999; Levene 2010: 214–60; Tipping 2010: 51–106. 38. Tuplin 2000: 145–51 explores the relationship between encomium and On Foreign Generals, for he recognizes that all of the Lives in the book “are engaged in making evaluative comments” (145), and he concludes that the “relation [of Nepos' biographies] to…epideictic praise and blame of individuals is at best tangential—in family terms, a matter of cousins, not brothers or fathers or sons” (146). On such family terms, exemplary history (note Tuplin 2000: 158) could also reasonably be characterized as the cousin of encomium. Both seek to identify and promote their subject's virtues (though exemplary history also deals in vices), yet encomium is more invested in its subject, while exemplary history is more invested in its reader. 39. This practice of “translating” the names of Greek divinities into Roman ones is far from new: Livius Andronicus did so in his rendering of Homer's Odyssey (see Possanza 2004: 46–56), and the practice seems to have become standard by Ovid. 40. For the evidence for the Marathon painting in the Stoa Poikile, see Harrison 1972. Diogenes Laertius 5.75 reports that 360 statues were decreed for Demetrius at some point during his governorship of Athens (318–307 BCE), but the precise occasion is not clarified. Laertius goes on to note that all but one was destroyed soon after (5.77). 41. Dionisotti 1988: 47 comments on this passage that Nepos “is not content with a contrast between once proudly democratic and now slavishly subservient Greece: he uses it to turn the reader's mind to Rome.” The point is true more globally: such a turn is why Nepos follows his book On Foreign Generals with his book On Roman Generals and urges his reader to compare them (Hann. 13.4). 42. So Rolfe 1929: 384 n. 2 (= Rolfe 1984: 18 n. 2): “Nepos confuses Athenian and Roman customs. At Athens such largess came from the state and not from the magistrates.” Note also Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 41 and 45 (where Herodotus 7.144 and Ath. Pol. 22.7 are cited as correctives) and Jenkinson 1973: 712–13, who concludes that Nepos “is a simple patriot who in superficial matters tends to Romanise.” 43. Nepos also equates Macedonian and Roman military reputation at Eum. 3.4: “the Macedonians, in fact, had the reputation then that the Romans do now: for those who have obtained the summit of power have always been regarded as the bravest” (Macedones vero milites ea tum erant fama, qua nunc Romani feruntur: etenim semper habiti sunt fortissimi, qui summam imperii potirentur). Even Greek military devices are described in Roman terms: thus, when Miltiades besieges Paros in 489 BCE, “having formed up his vine-sheds and turtle-sheds, he brought them up to the walls” (vineis ac testudinibus constitutis propius muros accessit, Milt. 7.2). 44. Plutarch's Parallel Lives, likewise, find virtues and vices in both Greeks and Romans, but “it is from a Hellenocentric position that Plutarch's Romans are seen” (see Duff 1999: 301–9 [quote from 302]; Pelling 2011: 59–61). 45. Demonstrated by J. R. Bradley 1991: 127, who labels Nepos' version a “free adaptation.” 46. The comitium at Rome was the space in the Forum before which the magistrates appeared. For the significance of the space at the end of the Republic, see Vasaly 1993: 60–75. 47. Dionisotti 1988: 39 rightly finds it significant in Milt. 6.4 and Them. 2.2 “that Nepos assumed, or misinterpreted, the nature of the hand-out in this way. He might equally have said that the revenue was squandered because of the avaritia and luxuria of the mob, timely curbed by Themistocles; but that is not how he sees it.” At Rome, by comparison, Nepos lists the excessive demands of largitio as the reason why Atticus feels he cannot campaign for office without breaking the law (Att. 6.2). At Carthage, Nepos faults Hasdrubal as the one who “first overturned the old mores of the Carthaginians by means of largesse” (princeps largitione vetustos pervertit mores Karthaginiensium, Ham. 3.3). Hence largitio, for Nepos, is an exemplary vice that occurs across Mediterranean culture. 48. On scribae and their status in the Roman Republic, see Badian 1989. 49. For this rendering of this passage, see Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 77. 50. Noted by Tuplin 2000: 139.

51. Plutarch, however, reports allegations of incest (Cimon 4.6–8, 15.3–4). See further Davies 1971: 302–4; Blamire 1989: 95–98, 161–62. Compare Diodorus 10.32. 52. There is a somewhat comparable anecdote at Hamilcar 3.2. Even in the Atticus, the longest and most personal of Nepos' extant biographies, Atticus' wife, Pilia, is never mentioned (noted by Horsfall 1989: 12, 65–66). Plutarch, but not Suetonius, shares Nepos' reticence about erotica (see Duff 1999: 94–97, 215–17), though eros does sometimes have characterizing force in Plutarch (see Beneker 2008 and 2012). 53. And perhaps even for Nepos himself: see Marshall fr. 39 (from a letter of Nepos to Cicero), in which Nepos is quoted (by Lactantius, Div. Inst. 3.15.10, as discussed in chapter 2 of the present study) as claiming that philosophers should be judged on how they practice what they preach, which they often do poorly. As a biographer, in sum, he is an ethical pragmatist rather than a theoretician. Plutarch, by contrast, drew inspiration from Platonic thought: see Duff 1999: 72–98. 54. I owe this translation to the Loeb edition (Rolfe 1929: 533 = 1984: 167). 55. See also Stem 2009: 128–34.

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CHAPTER 5 From Political History to Exemplary Political Biography The previous two chapters have argued that Nepos shaped the biographies in On Foreign Generals in order to present his subjects as republican exempla. I have developed this argument by integrating pieces of evidence from throughout his extant corpus, but nothing demonstrates it so well as extended readings of entire Lives. Thus while the previous chapter surveyed Nepos' exemplary methods as a biographer, this one will examine the specific ways that those methods create and develop his thematic emphases throughout three successive individual biographies (Epaminondas, Pelopidas, and Agesilaus). Nepos' biographies are short, and their brevity allows for—perhaps even fosters—a central theme that can unify a Life from start to finish. The contents of Nepos' biographies are exemplary in several areas at once, and the lessons of individual episodes progressively come to illuminate others, but examining a single theme can often best reveal the exemplary significance of a complete Life overall, for it informs the individual pieces within it. A further point that I seek to demonstrate through my readings in this chapter is Nepos' method of working with his sources. A comprehensive study of Nepos' use of his sources is a desideratum, but this book does not aspire to be that study. Although unfashionable because of its often speculative nature, source criticism remains invaluable for understanding the contribution of a compiler like Nepos, who derived his content from others. Hence one reason that I have chosen to focus on the Epaminondas, Pelopidas, and Agesilaus is that the source criticism behind their interrelated themes has already been pursued by James Bradley (1991). Specific arguments behind individual passages are circumstantial and detailed (and thus relegated to the footnotes), but in their cumulative argument, I have sought to bolster two conclusions already reached by Bradley. First, Nepos' main sources were established historians, and thus the version of events he presents in his biographies was credible within the ancient historical tradition. Second, Nepos Page 163 → drew very selectively from his sources and adapted their information to his serial and comparative biographical format in accordance with his own interests and emphases. These two considerations also confirm the argument of my previous chapters, namely, that even though Nepos was not always precise when drawing from his sources (which is why On Foreign Generals is now a mediocre source for ancient history), his Lives are entirely legitimate as expressions of how Nepos felt the past commanders in Mediterranean history were relevant as points of comparison to the commanders of Roman history. Nepos' manipulations of his sources, in sum, further document how he has drawn from them in order to support the exemplary framing and republican thinking that are the hallmarks of his creation of serial political biography. Although drawn from narrative accounts of political history, Nepos' Lives should be read for what he shaped them to be: exemplary biographical presentations of his own moral and political thought.

Achieving Preeminence: Epaminondas In the process of selecting the representative moments of his subject's life, Nepos often presents his subject through a particular lens. Towards the beginning and end of the Epaminondas, for example, as already indicated at the end of the previous chapter, Nepos' guiding theme is that the Theban's significance resulted from his attainment of preeminence for himself and for his city.1 Within the Life, accordingly, the political ramifications of such preeminence are explored, for Epaminondas' constant pursuit of personal and civic preeminence carries political risk. It requires him to dominate Theban domestic politics in order to lead by example, and the preeminence of one citizen can threaten a republican government with a personal hegemony that approaches tyranny. The successful commander in a victorious republic rising to ascendancy is especially hard to restrain, for success attracts power, Page 164 → and limiting power thus risks limiting further success. Epaminondas' preeminence is therefore a serious challenge to the domestic politics of Thebes. For Nepos, however, what makes Epaminondas so exemplary is that he inspires success through the virtues of his character while parrying the obstacles to his success without compromising the greater good of his city. In the climactic episode of the Life, Nepos has Epaminondas defuse an act of civil disobedience through a summation of his service to the state.

Nepos' Epaminondas thus demonstrates how a powerful general can be led to transcend his state's constitution without undermining it.2 The structure of the Epaminondas is unparalleled within On Foreign Generals, for it is thematically, rather than chronologically, based. The subject's youth comes at the beginning and his death near the end, but in between, Nepos groups his anecdotes by subject and makes no indication, as he generally does elsewhere, of organizing the events in a chronological sequence.3 Also unparalleled is the fact that Nepos makes a formal statement to his readers about the Life's structure (1.4): dicemus primum de genere eius, deinde quibus disciplinis et a quibus sit eruditus, tum de moribus ingeniique facultatibus et si qua alia memoria digna erunt, postremo de rebus gestis, quae a plurimis animi anteponuntur virtutibus. [We will speak first about his family; then in which subjects and by whom he was educated; then about his mores, the strengths of his Page 165 → character, and anything else worthy of mention; then finally about his deeds, which most rank above the virtues of his mind.] There are two problematic elements to this structural statement. The first is that the final phrase of this sentence, in which Nepos asserts that most students of Epaminondas' life value his deeds (rebus gestis) more than his virtues (virtutibus), does not articulate a perspective that a biographer is likely to endorse. The generic specialty of biography is the exemplary presentation of virtues of character, for which a selective presentation of deeds is the standard means to that end. Thus the suggestion that deeds would be more important than virtues is sufficiently contrary to the Life's generic principles that it functions as a hint that the reader should view the claim that “most rank Epaminondas' deeds above the virtues of his mind” as the consensus against which Nepos is writing, a statement of conventionality that he will lead his reader to overturn.4 Second, the proposed structure of family, education, character, and deeds does not obviously correspond to the Life that follows. Family and education are the subject of the second of the Life's ten sections in modern editions, and character in general is the subject of the third, while the fourth section contains one long anecdote specifically about Epaminondas' incorruptibility (abstinentia). The fifth and sixth sections relate examples of his eloquence (eloquentia) and oratorical wit, while the seventh and eighth present a rich narrative demonstrating his enduring patience (patientia) regarding mistreatment by fellow citizens. The ninth section sets out the circumstances of his death, and the tenth and final section assesses his legacy. Hence the first two and the final two sections make sense chronologically, but the six intervening sections (3–8) all concern qualities of character and not a narrative of deeds. In fact, deeds receive no separate section of their own, though they are incorporated into the anecdotes that demonstrate Epaminondas' virtues and mores. There is, for example, no direct narrative about Epaminondas' greatest victory as a commander, the Battle of Leuctra in 371 BCE, or any explanation of the particular significance of Epaminondas' generalship within that epochal Theban victory.5 The battle is invoked repeatedly in the anecdotes Page 166 → Nepos includes, and so its importance for Epaminondas' legacy is unmistakable to the reader, but Nepos seems to assume that his reader already understands Leuctra's significance for Thebes. Rather than report the action of that battle directly, he responds instead to the tremendous fame of the victory at Leuctra—and what he presents as the conventional ranking of Epaminondas' deeds as greater than his virtues—by devoting the whole of his Epaminondas to his subject's virtues. He does not neglect all of his subject's deeds, for some are present within his thematic structure, and thus his claim in 1.4 to include deeds is not untruthful. But rather than understand a separate structural section devoted specifically to deeds, the reader has to correlate family and education with section 2, mores and general strengths of character with section 3, and deeds with specific strengths of character (abstinentia, eloquentia, and patientia) with sections 4–8. The innovation here is not the omission of Epaminondas' deeds but the subordination of them to a thematic structure that asserts Nepos' own biographical goals against conventional historical thinking.6 Overlaid upon the thematic structure is the culminating theme of Epaminondas' exceptionalism, for Epaminondas' stature increases as the biography develops. In his youth, there was but potential. Though poor, his family was honorable, and his education was such that no Theban had more (eruditus autem sic ut nemo Thebanus magis,

2.1).7 His teacher for the lyre and its vocal accompaniment was especially distinguished (2.1; cf. Pref. 1), and it was because of his close relationship with his preceptor of philosophy that he so excelled his fellow students “that it could readily be understood that in a similar way he would surpass all men in other accomplishments” (2.2). Epaminondas' exceptional potential, in sum, was already recognizable, though not Page 167 → yet given the opportunity to be fulfilled. He then added physical training, in which he prioritized agility over raw strength, and was especially zealous about training with weapons (2.4–5). The result is a figure grounded in an ideal mix of virtues while being seemingly free of vices (3.1–2): Ad hanc corporis firmitatem plura etiam animi bona accesserant. erat enim modestus, prudens, gravis, temporibus sapienter utens, peritus belli, fortis manu, animo maximo, adeo veritatis diligens, ut ne ioco quidem mentiretur, idem continens, clemens patiensque admirandum in modum, non solum populi, sed etiam amicorum ferens iniurias. [To this strength of body were added even more good qualities of mind, for he was moderate, prudent, serious, skilled in making use of opportunities, practiced in war, a brave fighter, with the greatest spirit, and so diligent about the truth that he would not lie, not even as a joke. He was also restrained, lenient, and patient to an amazing degree, enduring slights not only from the people, but even from his friends.] The final comment in this passage, regarding his forbearance (patientia), will be expanded on in the Life's climactic narrative, but for the moment, it is enough to say that this passage is the first indication in the biography that his privately developed virtues of character are to be fired in the crucible of public life. The first test of Epaminondas' virtues that Nepos describes in detail involves money, namely, his exemplary indifference to it. Nepos' opening claim about Epaminondas' disinterest in wealth concisely suggests the value of prioritizing public service: “He lived with little wealth so easily that he took nothing from the state except glory” (paupertam adeo facile perpessus est, ut de re publica nihil praeter gloriam ceperit, 3.4).8 Fuller proof of this claim then comes through a lengthy anecdote in which Epaminondas' role is delivered in direct speech. The story is openly framed as a trial of his incorruptibility (tentata autem eius est abstinentia), in which an agent of the Persian king undertakes to corrupt Epaminondas through money (Epaminondam Page 168 → pecunia corrumpendum susceperat, 4.1). Diomedon, the bribery agent, wins over a close friend of Epaminondas, Micythus, with five talents, and Micythus then approaches Epaminondas on behalf of Diomedon. Nepos provides Epaminondas' response in full (4.2–3): at ille Diomedonti coram “nihil” inquit “opus est pecunia: nam si rex ea vult, quae Thebanis sunt utilia, gratis facere sum paratus, sin autem contraria, non habet auri atque argenti satis. namque orbis terrarum divitias accipere nolo prae patriae caritate. tu quod me incognitum tentasti tuique similem existimasti, non miror tibi ignosco; sed egredere propere, ne alios corrumpas, cum me non potueris. et tu, Micythe, argentum huic redde, aut, nisi id confestim facis, ego te tradam magistratui.” [He spoke to Diomedon in person: “There is no need for money, for if your king desires things that are valuable to Thebes, I am prepared to do them freely, but if he desires the opposite, he does not have enough gold and silver. I refuse to accept all the wealth in the world because of my love for my country. Because you tested me without knowing me but judging me similar to one of your own, I am not surprised and I forgive you. But depart quickly, lest you corrupt others because you could not corrupt me. And you, Micythus, return this man's silver, and if you do not do it immediately, I will hand you over to the magistrates.”] The scene is imagined to have occurred privately, among the three men, but it demonstrates Epaminondas' patriotism as well as any public act could. The direct speech and the face-to-face confrontation (coram) add drama, while numerous characterizing details intensify the overt exemplarity of the scene: Epaminondas speaks directly to his adversary rather than sully another; he backhandedly forgives the Persian for assuming that the Theban would be as corruptible as one of his own citizens (an arresting endorsement of Nepos' own advocacy of

cultural relativism at the outset of this Life); he shows his concern for Thebes above himself; and he insists on teaching his companion the error of his ways, even to the point of threatening to turn him over to the magistrates. His self-righteousness is winning, however, because of the way he sets his country before himself. What is useful for Thebes, he will do freely (gratis). What is not, money cannot compel him to do: “I refuse to accept all the wealth in the world because of my love for my country.”9 Page 169 → The hyperbole is appropriate for one whom Nepos characterizes as so exceptional and whose concern for his own preeminence is never far from his mind. Epaminondas' subsequent actions in this anecdote further bolster the characterization. Diomedon's immediate response to Epaminondas' speech is a request for permission to depart safely (tuto) and with his money, to which Epaminondas replies, again in direct speech, that he will allow it only so that no one can later accuse him of ending up with the money after he refused it (4.4). He then has Diomedon escorted to Athens so that he would arrive safely (tuto), yet “he did not consider even this to be enough, but he also made sure that [Diomedon] embarked onto his ship without being hassled” (neque vero id satis habuit, sed etiam, ut inviolatus in navem escenderet,…effecit, 4.5). Such a degree of protection, especially for someone for whom Epaminondas has no sympathy, demonstrates both his thoroughness and his awareness of the value of his public reputation. Nepos says that he could offer much more evidence of Epaminondas' incorruptibility but that he must set a limit, and so this one proof will be enough (4.6): abstinentiae erit hoc satis testimonium. plurima quidem proferre possumus, sed modus adhibendus est, quoniam uno hoc volumine vitam excellentium virorum complurium concludere constituimus, quorum separatim multis milibus versuum complures scriptores ante nos explicarunt. This will be enough proof of his incorruptibility. We could indeed produce very many more, but a limit must be applied, since we have determined to include in this one volume the life of several distinguished men, about each of whom separately several writers before us have expounded in many thousands of lines. The claim of the need for concision is reminiscent of the end of the Preface (8), where Nepos also says that he has to move on because of the amount of material he seeks to cover in this particular book. But the strategy behind the idea here also signals to the reader that there can be no denying the incorruptibility of Epaminondas, for there are so many ways to prove it. This rhetoric of superabundance does not illuminate the actual number or type of Page 170 → Nepos' sources (even though that is how this passage has often been read)10 but seeks, rather, to intimate the multitude of moral exempla demonstrating Epaminondas' incorruptibility.11 The depth of this example is preferable to breadth, as this exceptional case proves the general rule. The effectiveness of Epaminondas' reply to Diomedon also prepares the reader for Nepos' next claim about his uniqueness at Thebes (5.1–2): Fuit etiam disertus, ut nemo ei Thebanus par esset eloquentia, neque minus concinnus in brevitate respondendi quam in perpetua oratione ornatus. habuit obtrectatorem Menecliden quendam, indidem Thebis, et adversarium in administranda re publica, satis exercitatum in dicendo, ut Thebanum scilicet: namque illi genti plus inest virium quam ingenii. [He was indeed well spoken, such that no Theban was equal to him in eloquence, and he was no less pleasing in the brevity of a quip than splendid in an extended speech. He had as a detractor a fellow Theban named Meneclides, who was his opponent in the administration of the state and who was, for a Theban at any rate, somewhat practiced in speaking (the Thebans, as a people, have more physical strength than mental ability).] At the beginning of this passage, the reader learns that Epaminondas was the preeminent Theban speaker, but at its

end comes the qualification that other Thebans did not provide him much competition, for they traditionally excelled more in physical than in mental skills.12 This qualification, however, befits Meneclides more than Epaminondas, whom Nepos has already described as bestowed with numerous mental virtues (3.1–3) and possessed of the best education of any Theban (2.1–2). Hence the qualification confirms what Nepos has already implied about the reason for Epaminondas' preeminence at Thebes: he was the first to train his mind so that its strength Page 171 → would match the strength of his body. Nepos' biography, in fact, in discussing almost exclusively his strengths of character, takes for granted the physical and martial skills he displayed as general and presents him as a statesman as much as a commander. Thus it is in his role as administrator of the state (in administranda re publica) that Meneclides is presented as his rival, or, rather, as his detractor (obtrectatorem), a word choice that suggests a man of lesser stature. The reader can thereby immediately perceive that Meneclides is being set up as the foil to Epaminondas, whose responses to Meneclides' public challenges will demonstrate the folly of the detractor. The clearest example comes in the second of the three retorts included here. When Meneclides criticizes him for not being a family man, Epaminondas exposes his hypocrisy by reminding the audience how poor Meneclides' judgment on such matters had been, and Nepos then explains that he was suspected of adultery (5.5). The first of the three anecdotes is the most obviously to Meneclides' political discredit. It is introduced with the comment that Meneclides advocated peace over war so that Epaminondas' deeds as commander would not be needed (ne illius imperatoris opera desideraretur, 5.3). Such an ad hominem motivation is all too easy for Epaminondas to rebut by asserting that peace is won through war (nam paritur pax bello, 5.4). Epaminondas does not stop there, however, but rises to his ambition for Theban hegemony with his concluding comment: “So if you wish to be the first men of Greece, you must practice in the camp, not the gym” (quare si principes Graeciae vultis esse, castris est vobis utendum, non palaestra, 5.4). Epaminondas' point is that the physical abilities of the Thebans must be directed not toward their strengthening of themselves as individuals, as they would in the gym, but toward their collective skills in fighting for Thebes. Nepos' choice of this anecdote thus demonstrates how Epaminondas' skills as an orator made manifest his call to public service and his desire for Theban preeminence.13 The third anecdote is the most interesting in moral and political terms, for it involves Meneclides' criticism of Epaminondas' arrogance (insolentiam), in particular “because he seemed to himself to have attained the war glory of Agamemnon” (quod sibi Agamemnonis belli gloriam videretur consecutus, 5.5). Given the first two anecdotes involving Meneclides and especially given the fact that Nepos has already described Epaminondas as moderate and prudent and restrained (modestus, prudens, continens; 3.1–2), it is clear that the reader is not to side with Meneclides and find Epaminondas arrogant. Page 172 → The obvious pride with which Epaminondas defends himself from this charge of arrogance nevertheless surprises (5.6): quod autem me Agamemnonem aemulari putas, falleris. namque ille cum universa Graecia vix decem annis unam cepit urbem, ego contra ea una urbe nostra dieque uno totam Graeciam Lacedaemoniis fugatis liberavi. [But as for your thinking that I rival Agamemnon, you are mistaken: for he, accompanied by all Greece, with difficulty in ten years captured one city, whereas I, on the other hand, with this one city of ours and on one day routed the Lacedaemonians and liberated the whole of Greece.] His reference, of course, is to Leuctra, heretofore unmentioned and not yet contextualized by Nepos himself. The reader is offered Epaminondas' own presentation of it first and finds it described as an act of liberation of the whole of Greece. Epaminondas' strategy here responds to the implicit charge of Meneclides that his alleged arrogance was causing him to think himself an Agamemnon, that is, more like a king than merely an eminent citizen. Meneclides, in sum, was accusing him of sliding toward tyranny, and Epaminondas disarmed the charge by proclaiming himself a liberator. His goal was not conquest but, rather, the freedom of Greece; hence his leadership can, in fact, be more impressive than Agamemnon's yet still not a threat to Thebes. Indeed, his claim of liberation is presented as an act of Theban pride, for “this one city of ours,” he says, achieved a legacy greater than all Greece in Agamemnon's day. Epaminondas' rebuttal neatly transforms the political risks of his war glory into the reason for his pride in Thebes. The hapless Meneclides is again undone.14 Page 173 →

Nepos then enlarges the field of competition and continues his series of anecdotes demonstrating Epaminondas' eloquence with a story of Epaminondas' attendance at an Arcadian assembly, where he sought the Arcadians' alliance with Thebes and Argos rather than with Athens. His adversary on this occasion was the Athenian Callistratus, “who excelled all men of that time in eloquence” (qui eloquentia omnes eo praestabat tempore, 6.1). Callistratus' attacks on Thebes and Argos included the insinuation that the matricides Orestes and Alcmaeon were representative of Argive character and that the incestuous parricide Oedipus was representative of Theban character (6.2). Epaminondas responded to these two “taunts” (opprobria) by saying that he was surprised at the foolishness of the Athenian rhetor (stultitiam rhetoris Attici), for he had not noticed that those men were born innocent in their home cities and received by the Athenians once they had been expelled from their homelands for their crimes (6.3).15 Nepos' presentation of this story confirms that he does believe Epaminondas to have been the preeminent Theban speaker, one who could contend with a renowned Athenian and not just his Theban detractor. Even so, all four of the oratorical anecdotes so far involve quips based on quick thinking more than extended eloquence. Yet Nepos does have an example of such eloquence, and he caps the series of oratorical anecdotes by again invoking Leuctra (6.4): sed maxime eius eloquentia eluxit Spartae legati ante pugnam Leuctricam. quo cum omnium sociorum convenissent legati, coram frequentissimo legationum conventu sic Lacedaemoniorum tyrannidem coarguit, ut non minus illa oratione opes eorum concusserit quam Leuctrica pugna. tum enim perfecit, quod post apparuit, ut auxilio sociorum Lacedaemonii privarentur. [But his eloquence was displayed most brilliantly while an envoy at Sparta before the Battle of Leuctra. When the envoys of all the allies had convened there, he stood before that most crowded assembly and documented the tyranny of the Lacedaemonians so well that he shattered their strength no less by that oration than by the Battle of Leuctra. At that moment, as became clear afterward, he brought it about that the Lacedaemonians were deprived of the support of their allies.] Page 174 → Eloquence, in the hands of Epaminondas, becomes a political weapon no less effective than military force, and as such, it forms a notable aspect of his deeds. The success of Leuctra, Nepos claims, should be understood to have begun at the congress that preceded the battle itself,16 and what Nepos has demonstrated in the oratorical anecdotes leading up to this one is that of all Thebans, only Epaminondas had the eloquence to initiate that success so effectively. As Nepos has structured these two sections, the skills with which Epaminondas achieved preeminence within Thebes itself are also crucial to his ability to lead his city to preeminence in Greece. This final oratorical anecdote also corroborates the last of the anecdotes involving Meneclides, in which Epaminondas presented himself as the liberator of the whole of Greece. Since Nepos himself did not make that claim in his own voice but attributed it to the subject himself in a competitive public moment, the reader is to understand that that anecdote reflects on the character of the subject more than it validates the claim of the subject's rhetoric. Yet the rhetorical success of Epaminondas' definition of himself as a liberator before his own citizens does give some credibility to his self-characterization, and so the reader need not be surprised at how Nepos' presentation of Epaminondas' speech at Sparta now confirms Epaminondas' presentation of himself to Meneclides. There Epaminondas said that he liberated Greece, and here Nepos says that he proved even to Sparta's allies that Sparta was acting as a tyrant to other Greeks. The allies' consequent abandonment of their support for Sparta, as Nepos understands it, contributed so significantly to the Spartan defeat at Leuctra that he can say that Epaminondas' speech shattered Spartan strength no less than the battle itself.17 The significance of Epaminondas' victory at Leuctra, therefore, is indeed to be understood as the liberation of Greece from Spartan tyranny, and Nepos develops this characterization gradually through his presentation of Epaminondas as a public speaker. This series of anecdotes about Epaminondas' eloquence well demonstrates Nepos' technique as biographer, particularly the way in which his reader is to understand a subject's great deeds through anecdotal glimpses into his habits of character more than through a narrative of the events themselves. Page 175 →

By this point in the biography, Epaminondas has achieved the role of being the most preeminent citizen of a hegemonic Thebes. The aftermath of such success, however, proves to be problematic. The dominance of Epaminondas within Thebes, even though Nepos presents it as well deserved, nevertheless generates a backlash because of what Nepos terms the envy (invidia) of his lesser rivals.18 Epaminondas retains his stature as the greater man in Nepos' eyes by enduring the manifestations of this jealousy with patience. Nepos' purpose as an exemplary author is particularly visible in the way he shapes this point (7.1–2): Fuisse patientem suorumque iniurias ferentem civium, quod se patriae irasci nefas esse duceret, haec sunt testimonia. cum eum propter invidiam cives sui praeficere exercitui noluissent duxque esset delectus belli imperitus, cuius errore eo esset deducta illa multitudo militum, ut omnes de salute pertimescerent, quod locorum angustiis clausi ab hostibus obsidebantur, desiderari coepta est Epaminondae diligentia: erat enim ibi privatus numero militis. a quo cum peterent opem, nullam adhibuit memoriam contumeliae et exercitum obsidione liberatum domum reduxit incolumem. nec vero hoc semel fecit, sed saepius. [Of his patience and his endurance of the insults of his fellow citizens, because he considered it unspeakably wrong for him to be angry at his country, the following is proof. When, on account of envy, his fellow citizens had refused to put him in command of the army and had selected a general who was inexperienced in war, and when, because of this general's mistake, the multitude of soldiers had been brought to the point that they all thoroughly feared for their safety, since they had been maneuvered into a tight spot and were being besieged by the enemy, the carefulness of Epaminondas began to be missed: for he was there as a private citizen among the infantry. When they sought his aid, he paid no heed to how he had been slighted, but freed the army from its siege and brought it home safe. And in fact, he did this not just once, but often.] The whole anecdote is presented as proof that Epaminondas was tolerant of disrespect from fellow Thebans who were jealous of his excellence. Moreover, Page 176 → the reason for Epaminondas' tolerance is incorporated into Nepos' very framing of this proof, namely, that he thought it wrong (nefas) to be angry at his country. The reader cannot doubt, then, that Nepos finds Epaminondas' mistreatment unjustified but his response worthy of his character. The scene is set in a long periodic sentence in which the absence of Epaminondas from the command becomes more and more distressing: his own fellow citizens pass over him because of jealousy (propter invidiam); they appoint someone clearly inexperienced, whose incompetence (cuius errore) leads the army into being besieged while in a disadvantageous location; and the whole army begins to fear for its survival. The weight of the accumulation of the subordinate clauses of the sentence is then met by deliberate understatement in its main clause: “the carefulness of Epaminondas began to be missed.” But next it emerges that Epaminondas is actually there, dutifully serving his city as a lowly soldier despite its callous treatment of him, which he magnaminously forgets, leading the army home safe and sound in seemingly inevitable fashion.19 Nepos then caps the whole passage by saying, as if this story were not extraordinary enough, that this whole scenario happened more than once. The rhetoric of this passage effectively capitalizes on the drama of its contents, all expressly in the service of elucidating the nature and motivation of Epaminondas' patientia. The concluding claim that Epaminondas had done this more than once might initially cause the reader to think that Nepos is allowing this one case to stand for all of them, as with the anecdote of his incorruptibility discussed above (4.1–6). But this rhetoricized tale turns out to be only the introduction to the much more developed episode that follows, which Nepos describes as the most renowned of them all (maxime…illustre, 7.3). The lesson of the two anecdotes is similar, but the scale of the second is greater. On this occasion, Epaminondas is sent with two other commanders (one of whom is Pelopidas, first introduced here as a brave and vigorous man: vir fortis ac strenuus) into the Peloponnesus against Sparta itself.20 All three of them, says Page 177 → Nepos, became unpopular because of charges brought by their political opponents (criminibus adversariorum omnes in invidiam venissent, 7.3) and, for that reason, were stripped of their command and replaced by others (whom Nepos terms praetores).21 On this occasion, however, Epaminondas did not step aside and join the ranks as a private citizen. This time he chose to violate the people's decree in a deliberate act of civil disobedience (7.4–5): Epaminondas populi scito non paruit idemque ut facerent persuasit collegis et bellum, quod

susceperat, gessit. namque animadvertebat, nisi id fecisset, totum exercitum propter praetorum imprudentiam in-scitiamque belli periturum. lex erat Thebis, quae morte multabat, si quis diutius imperium retinuisset, quam lege praefinitum foret. hanc Epaminondas cum rei publicae conservandae causa latam videret, ad perniciem civitatis conferre noluit et quattuor mensibus diutius, quam populus iusserat, gessit imperium.

[Epaminondas did not obey the decree of the people, persuaded his colleagues to do the same, and conducted the war that he had undertaken. For he observed that the whole army would have perished on account of the recklessness of the praetors and their inexperience of war. There was a law at Thebes that punished someone with death if he had retained his command longer than had been prescribed by law. Since Epaminondas saw that this law had been brought for the sake of preserving the republic, he did not wish to contribute to the destruction of the state, but he held his command for four months longer than the people had ordered.22] Page 178 → As Nepos presents Epaminondas' dilemma, he is faced with the choice of either handing over the army to commanders who would destroy it or disobeying a law that he recognizes as good for the state in principle. In the earlier example (7.1–2), he is not depicted as being so sure that the commanders chosen by the people in place of him would lead the army to ruin, and so he did not assume the command until the soldiers themselves, recognizing the difficulty of their position, asked him to lead them. This time, however, he recognizes in advance that the whole army will perish (totum exercitum…periturum), and he refuses to let that happen.23 He chooses, in sum, to save his soldiers' lives, even while Nepos characterizes him as cognizant of the legal consequences for himself and the constitutional consequences for Thebes. The point of the law, as Nepos says Epaminondas himself sees, is to protect the state from a commander who does not honor the terminal date of his command. To defy the law, even if to save the army, is to face execution and “to contribute to the destruction of the state” (ad perniciem civitatis conferre). Hence the next dilemma is that which faces Thebes: is it right for Thebes to put to death its preeminent citizen at the height of his success? Is a preeminent commander who disobeys the law a budding tyrant who must be executed in order to preserve the rule of law? Has Epaminondas become too preeminent for his republic? The reader has come to the thematic climax of the biography.24 Page 179 → Upon their return to Thebes, all three commanders are put on trial for not laying down their commands.25 Epaminondas allows the other two to put all the blame on him, which accords with Nepos' account quoted above (7.4), where Epaminondas is said to have persuaded the others to follow his lead. The other two are then acquitted, but only because their guilt is transferred to Epaminondas, who is not imagined to be capable of making a defense (8.1).26 Nepos, however, has structured his biography to demonstrate otherwise. Thebes' greatest, most incorruptible citizen (3–4) and sharpest orator (5–6), who endured mistreatment from his fellow citizens because he considered it unspeakably wrong to be angry at his country (7–8), defends himself through one final request (8.2–5):27 at ille in iudicium venit, nihil eorum negavit, quae adversarii crimini dabant, omniaque, quae collegae dixerant, confessus est neque recusavit quominus legis poenam subiret, sed unum ab iis petivit, ut in sepulchro suo inscriberent: Epaminondas a Thebanis morte multatus est, quod eos coegit apud Leuctra superare Lacedaemonios, quos ante se imperatorem nemo Boeotorum ausus fuit aspicere in acie, quodque uno proelio non solum Thebas ab interitu retraxit, sed etiam universam Graeciam in libertatem vindicavit eoque res utrorumque perduxit, ut Thebani Spartam oppugnarent, Lacedaemonii satis haberent, si salvi esse possent, neque prius bellare destitit, quam Messene restituta urbem eorum obsidione clausit. haec cum dixisset, risus omnium cum hilaritate coortus est, neque quisquam iudex ausus est de eo

ferre suffragium. sic a iudicio capitis maxima discessit gloria.

Page 180 → [But he came into the court, denied none of the things with which his opponents were charging him, admitted all the things that his colleagues had said, and did not object to submitting to the law's penalty. But he did ask for one thing from them, that they inscribe the following on his tomb: Epaminondas was punished with death by the Thebans because he compelled them at Leuctra to overcome the Lacedaemonians, at whom, before he was commander, no Boeotian had even dared to look when on the battle line, and because in one battle he not only rescued Thebes from destruction but also delivered all Greece into liberty, and because he brought the affairs of both sides to such a point that the Thebans besieged Sparta and the Lacedaemonians thought it enough if they could just be safe, and because he did not cease making war until he had restored Messene and thereby blockaded Sparta under siege. After he finished, laughter and cheerfulness arose from everyone, and not any judge dared to cast a vote in this matter. Thus did the greatest glory result from a capital trial.] The historical moment is memorably captured by Nepos, who has depicted Epaminondas so favorably to the reader up to this point that one's sympathies are decidedly with the defendant. Hence his rhetorical daring and wry expression of his patriotism seem masterful, and his unanimous acquittal is a happy relief. The reader can share in the response of the internal audience of the speech, who respond with mirth to Epaminondas' capturing of even greater glory.28 Yet the reader should not stop there, for Nepos has created this biography not simply to celebrate his subject's glory but, rather, to utilize the historical experiences of his subject to demonstrate his character and thereby impart moral and political lessons about the propriety of his conduct. Hence the reader also needs to consider what Epaminondas' defense reveals about him, and that process is not so easy. The way Nepos has constructed the episode allows the reader to see that Epaminondas had other possible lines of defense. He could have argued that handing the army over to an incompetent commander was more harmful to the city than retaining his command beyond its legal terminal date, which is Page 181 → the internal judgment Nepos presents him as having made. He could have argued that his adversaries were acting out of private jealousy (invidia) more than for the public good, which is how Nepos characterizes them,29 and that the court should not reward those selfish motives by putting him to death on the charge in which they had ensnared him. Yet even though Nepos has prepared his reader to grant Epaminondas either line of defense, the defendant adopts neither of these tactics and chooses instead to risk all with a quietly confident accounting of his service to the state. In essence, Epaminondas calls the court's bluff. He comes to the court respectfully and dares them to put him to death for an extremely successful campaign against Sparta that changed Theban and Spartan history in the fundamental ways that he describes. His phrasing is startling (he is to be executed because he compelled the Thebans to overcome the Lacedaemonians!) but is not mendacious or inappropriate. Importantly, he does not hold himself to be above the law and the institutions of his republic, as a tyrant would. He submits to judgment and acknowledges the authority of the court to punish him with death for his deed.30 Yet he does not directly answer the charge. Instead, he admits that he is guilty as charged, but he then provokes the court into disregarding that guilt. The fundamental stance of his defense urges that his successes overwhelm his guilt, or, as a critic might put it, that his successful ends justified his potentially tyrannical means. As Nepos characterizes Epaminondas, however, Page 182 → such a criticism appears unfounded. Epaminondas is presented never as acting in a tyrannical way—that is, in a manner that prioritizes his own position and power—but always as striving for the greater good of Thebes. Indeed, Nepos characterizes his virtues as so impressive that he inspired Thebes to transcend its traditionally dependent status and become the hegemonic power of Greece. At no time was the power of Thebes clearer to the Greek world than when Epaminondas stripped Messenia from Sparta and forced the Spartans to defend their own unwalled city. Hence Epaminondas' speech in his defense vividly captures

what was, for him, the concrete realization of his dream for a preeminent Thebes. But the exemplary problem, nevertheless, is that at the same moment Epaminondas' foreign policy has triumphed, he is compromised domestically. He has chosen to violate the laws of his city in order to achieve the defining campaign of his—and Thebes'—preeminence.31 Nepos' biography has followed Epaminondas down the path of preeminence that culminates in this Peloponnesian campaign, and along the way, Nepos has also demonstrated the parallel development of detractors who sought to thwart Epaminondas' plans. Hence Nepos recognizes that preeminence has its costs, not least that one becomes a target of the jealousy of others. Therefore, the successful politician—even the virtuously successful one—has to be one who can push back against his critics in the messy business of politics. But motivations matter, and results do, too. The intent of Meneclides and his later unnamed successors is to sideline Epaminondas because they envy the commander's success, whereas Epaminondas strives to lead Thebes to hegemony. The legal successors to Epaminondas and his co-commanders are characterized as reckless and inexperienced; hence it can be understood that they would not have achieved for Thebes what Epaminondas did, which allows Epaminondas a political argument to which his jurors would not have been indifferent.32 His success required a commander of his stature, and Thebes would have been much less consequential without him. If the jurors at Epaminondas' trial valued the position in Greece to which Epaminondas had taken them more than they felt that he had contributed to Page 183 → the destruction of the state by violating its constitution, then they had legitimate political reasons to acquit. Moreover, once Epaminondas had formally acknowledged their authority over him, they had less reason to assert that authority through a conviction. His deferential yet patriotic pose successfully defended his preeminence from any credible charge of tyranny in the minds of his jury, and Nepos' reader is invited to follow their lead. But there is still a greater task for the reader, namely, asking why his acquittal is morally defensible and not just rhetorically and politically defensible. Nepos characterized Epaminondas as aware that his civil disobedience could “contribute to the destruction of the state” (ad perniciem civitatis conferre, 7.5), yet in the end, he violated the law and went unpunished for it. What sort of example does that set? Nepos has already identified this anecdote as the most illustrious example of Epaminondas' forbearance (patientia) in enduring mistreatment (iniurias) from his citizens (7.1, 3).33 That introduction to this story casts his defense speech as an act of endurance, which, in turn, implies that the citizens' act of forcing on Epaminondas the dilemma of defying the constitution or sending the army to destruction—as opposed to fending off his adversaries and letting him retain his command until the mission on which they sent him was completed—is tantamount to abuse. His resolution to his dilemma is to privilege the safety of the army, win glory for Thebes while facing repercussions at home, and then submit to the authorities he defied. This choice presents him as a commander who judges what is best for his city overall and then accepts the personal consequences of that judgment, even if they are unfair. Since a commander's treatment by his fellow citizens should, from Nepos' exemplary republican point of view, ultimately result from their estimation of his advancement of the general welfare of the state, two issues are in play: (1) whether the commander on trial has judged the best interests of the state correctly and (2) whether the people can properly recognize that judgment. If the commander judged wrongly, he is rightly convicted. If the commander judged correctly, the people should acquit, as they do in this anecdote once Epaminondas' defense triggers their recognition of the greater good. If the commander judged correctly but the people are blind to its propriety, then the people are to be judged invidious. Page 184 → What this set of options outlines, therefore, is that the outcome of an event affects its exemplary value. If the commander, as here, does succeed in advancing the common good even though in legal violation of the constitution, the spirit of the law can be allowed to overcome the letter. Since the common good is recognized as generally sustained by following the law, the violation of the law is rarely to be regarded as an acceptable means to achieving the common good. But regarding it as such is not impossible, politically or morally, and when a commander has both the moral vision to understand why this is so and the political ability to bring about the course of events that vindicates his vision, the entire act becomes exemplary in far more significant ways, for it defines a statecraft that can be even more valuable than straightforward obedience to the law. As Nepos here concludes, “the greatest glory resulted from a capital trial” (a iudicio capitis maxima discessit gloria, 8.5).

Epaminondas' ability to retain his focus on the public good even while on trial for pursuing it becomes an act of patience toward the city, against which he cannot be angry (7.1). In the end, Epaminondas overturns his civil disobedience with the value of his civil service, and because he made his defense on these terms within the institutions of his city rather than outside them, his violation of the constitution can be judged not to have undermined it. He has seen his way to the limit of preeminence, but he remains Thebes' transcendent citizen, not its tyrant. As the thematic structure of the biography peaks with this anecdote, so does its exemplary value. Now that this Life has taught what it can in its short compass, its next section moves to the circumstances of Epaminondas' death. The death scene befits a man pushing at the limits of preeminence, for his fatal wound was received while he was commander at the Battle of Mantinea, when he approached the Spartan army “too boldly” (audacius) and was recognized by them in doing so. In a judgment that confirms Epaminondas' portrayal, at his trial, of the changed relations between Thebes and Sparta, the Lacedaemonians are said to feel that the safety of their country resides in their destruction of this one man (quod in unius pernicie eius patriae sitam putabant salutem), and all of them together rush forward against him alone (universi in unum, 9.1).34 Epaminondas fights most bravely (fortissime) Page 185 → and is struck not by any soldier facing him but from a javelin thrown from afar (eminus). The Boeotians temporarily falter at the sight of his fall but then rally (9.2), and Epaminondas waits to make the fatal extraction of the javelin's head until he hears the news that the Boeotians have prevailed (9.3). Even when he is facing death, his concern lies with the fate of his city. What matters most to him is that he die knowing that Thebes still retains the hegemonic status to which his preeminence had led it. His last words, as Nepos quotes them, celebrate his freedom as a Theban: “I have lived long enough, for I die unconquered” (“satis” inquit “vixi, invictus enim morior,” 9.4). Theban preeminence, however, died with Epaminondas at Mantinea, an outcome that, for Nepos, only highlighted Epaminondas' exemplary importance. Only as long as Epaminondas led Thebes was it the head of Greece, which proves how one man can be worth more than all of his fellow citizens (unum hominem pluris quam civitatem fuisse, 10.4).35 The final section of the biography ends with this crucial statement of Epaminondas' preeminence from Nepos himself, but it also offers two other anecdotal perspectives by which Nepos summarizes his assessment of his subject. The first involves criticism Epaminondas received for not having a son. Nepos chooses to resolve this claim through the quotation of Epaminondas' answer to his fellow commander Pelopidas (10.1–2): Hic uxorem numquam duxit. in quo cum reprehenderetur, quod liberos non relinqueret, a Pelopida, qui filium habebat infamem, maleque eum in eo patriae consulere diceret, “vide” inquit “ne tu peius consulas, qui talem ex te natum relicturus sis. neque vero stirps potest mihi deesse: namque ex me natam relinquo pugnam Leuctricam, quae non modo mihi superstes, sed etiam immortalis sit necesse est.” [[Epaminondas] never took a wife. When he was criticized on this score by Pelopidas, who also said that he did not show due regard for his country because he was not leaving sons behind him, he said to Pelopidas, who had an infamous son: “See to it that you do not show worse regard, since you will leave behind a son such as yours. And, in fact, is it impossible that I will lack offspring, for I leave behind the Battle of Leuctra as my child, which necessarily will not only survive me but will be immortal.”] Page 186 → As often in Nepos, a telling anecdote on a small scale is developed into an exemplary moment with much larger ramifications.36 Nepos has already prepared the reader for Epaminondas' skill in rhetorically transforming criticism into praise; hence the somewhat humorous combination of rebuke and celebration that structures Epaminondas' reply on this occasion advances the themes of the biography while drawing them together. Because Epaminondas' exemplary value derives from his service to his state more than to himself, his response can challenge the normative appreciation of family life by suggesting that leaving behind a troublesome son might be worse for the common good than leaving none at all. But his tone switches from humorous to serious when he

claims his true offspring to be the Battle of Leuctra, which he professes will be immortal. History largely confirms this assertion, as Leuctra has always since been regarded as a watershed moment in Greek history. Its significance is not detailed in this passage, but from the three occasions on which it has already been described in this biography, the reader is to understand that Leuctra was an act that liberated Greece from the tyranny of the Spartans (totam Graeciam liberavi, 5.6; Lacedaemoniorum tyrannidem coarguit, 6.4; universam Graeciam in libertatem vindicavit, 8.3–4). Casting Epaminondas as a liberator of the whole of Greece widens his exemplary relevance beyond his status as the preeminent and heroic champion of Thebes. It positions him as a more universal example of how one leader can cause positive political change for an entire people, the imagined national community of the whole of Greece.37 If one group within that community is oppressing the rest, then sparking a decisive conflict that overthrows the tyrannical group Page 187 → is an exemplary deed that is to be regarded as immortal. It stands as a set of circumstances that transcends one city and one culture. Yet the seeming universality of the benefit of liberating a people from tyranny is immediately complicated by the very next anecdote that Nepos offers. The context shifts from what Nepos has presented as Epaminondas' liberation of all Greece at Leuctra to the specific liberation of Thebes from the tyranny of a Spartan garrison eight years earlier. Nepos, however, does not clarify the chronological relationship of these two events or, in fact, provide any transition at all between these two anecdotes. He just moves directly from an anecdote asserting Leuctra's immortality to one that also involves Spartan tyranny and Epaminondas' resistance to it, and the quickness of the move suggests how inherently Nepos associates Leuctra with acts of liberation. Although the unifying elements of these two anecdotes are the involvement of Pelopidas and Epaminondas' eagerness to defeat Spartans, this second anecdote introduces a significant caveat (10.3): quo tempore duce Pelopida exules Thebas occuparunt et praesidium Lacedaemoniorum ex arce expulerunt, Epaminondas, quamdiu facta est caedes civium, domo se tenuit, quod neque defendere malos volebat neque impugnare, ne manus suorum sanguine cruentaret: namque omnem civilem victoriam funestam putabat. idem, postquam apud Cadmeam cum Lacedaemoniis pugnari coeptum est, in primis stetit. [At that time when the exiles, with Pelopidas as their leader, seized Thebes and expelled the garrison of Lacedaemonians from the citadel, Epaminondas, as long as the killing of citizens was occurring, kept himself in his house because he wished neither to defend the evil traitors nor to attack them, lest he stain his hands with the blood of his own citizens, for he thought that any victory in a civil war was lamentably tainted. Yet after there began to be a fight near the Cadmea with the Lacedaemonians, he stood in the forefront.] Epaminondas is here seen as distinguishing between the violence of civil war and the violence of liberation from a foreign power. Even more important than the distinction itself is his judgment of the difference: the former is lamentably tainted (funestam); the latter can be immortal. The two acts, to Epaminondas' mind, fall at opposite ends of the exemplary spectrum. Hence he waits in his house until he can be sure that the opponents he will fight are Lacedaemonians, not Thebans, for he will not stain his hands with the Page 188 → blood of his fellow citizens, even those who were traitors to their city. He will judge them evil (malos), but he will not end their tyranny, even when such passivity benefits the tyrants and incurs the risk that Pelopidas and his fellow exiles might fail to liberate the city. Pelopidas would certainly argue that the killing of some Thebans was the necessary price to free all Thebes from the Spartans, especially if those killed were Spartan collaborators. But for Epaminondas, civil war is simply unacceptable, worse than enduring further foreign occupation. We have seen that he will commit an act of civil disobedience and disobey a lawful order from his people, but at the very end of the Life, we learn that he will not commit an act of civil war, even when potentially justifiable.38 For the moment, it seems that Nepos implicitly supports Epaminondas' judgment on this occasion. This is, after all, a biography of Epaminondas that has portrayed him in exclusively positive terms. His devotion to Theban liberty cannot credibly be doubted, and the reader also knows that Pelopidas was successful, since Nepos has just described how Epaminondas was able to lead Thebes to preeminence. Hence no political harm was done from Epaminondas' assumption of the moral high ground regarding civil war, and once the fight was against the

Spartans near the Cadmea, Nepos implies that Epaminondas' position in the forefront contributed to the ultimate liberation of Thebes from Spartan control. He kept his hands clean of Theban blood, in sum, so that he could stain them with Spartan blood. That outcome, however, while allowing Epaminondas his integrity, leaves open the question of Pelopidas' exemplarity. It avoids addressing the moral and exemplary questions involving tyranny within one's state: should one kill a tyrannical fellow citizen for the sake of the state's liberty? Pelopidas thought so; Epaminondas did not. The strength of the Epaminondas' endorsement for overthrowing a foreign tyranny is seemingly neutralized in the moral complexities of civil war. Page 189 →

Resisting Tyranny: Pelopidas Although the validity of tyrannicide is unresolved in the Epaminondas, it becomes the key theme of the Pelopidas, the biography that immediately follows in Nepos' collection.39 As soon as one digests Nepos' judgment that Epaminondas was worth more to Thebes than all the other citizens combined (Epam. 10.4), the reader finds Pelopidas introduced as a Theban better known to historians than to the general population (magis historicis quam vulgo notus, Pel. 1.1).40 In two passages within the Life, Nepos addresses this relative obscurity. Here at the outset of the Pelopidas, the issue is a generic and programmatic one. Nepos claims that Pelopidas' deeds require a lot of historical context in order for his greatness to be clear, and Nepos fears that if he provides all that context, he would seem to be writing history, not biography. Yet because he anticipates that some of his readers will not know the context well enough on their own, he realizes that touching on only the high points of Pelopidas' life will not allow the reader to see how great a man he really was. Nepos resolves to seek a compromise position in which he trims the material back but still explains enough to inform his readers (1.1).41 The result is a biography that is half the length of the Epaminondas, about three pages (compared to the Epaminondas' six) in Marshall's Teubner edition.42 Page 190 → Nepos' actual selection of material for the Pelopidas turns out to be relatively simple, as he explains in a further passage regarding Pelopidas' obscurity. Of the biography's five sections in modern editions, the first three describe in some detail how Pelopidas came, in the winter of 379/8 BCE, to lead a group of exiles in liberating Thebes from the Spartan garrison installed in its citadel (as already summarized at Epam. 10.3). The fifth and final section sets out the sequence of events that led to Pelopidas' death. The section in between explains why there are no other events included in the biography: because Pelopidas fell under the shadow of Epaminondas' preeminence. Pelopidas was indeed a great man (quantus fuit ille vir, 1.1), but in the end, the only major achievement that can be credited to him alone is his restoration of Theban liberty from the Spartans (4.1–3): Hoc tam turbido tempore, sicut supra docuimus, Epaminondas, quoad cum civibus dimicatum est, domi quietus fuit. itaque haec liberatarum Thebarum propria laus est Pelopidae, ceterae fere communes cum Epaminonda. namque Leuctrica pugna imperatore Epaminonda hic fuit dux delectae manus, quae prima phalangem prostravit Laconum. omnibus praeterea periculis adfuit (sicut, Spartam cum oppugnavit, alterum tenuit cornu), quoque Messena celerius restitueretur, legatus in Persas est profectus. denique haec fuit altera persona Thebis, sed tamen secunda ita, ut proxima esset Epaminondae. [At this highly unsettled time, as explained above [at Epam. 10.3], Epaminondas stayed quiet in his house as long as the struggle was between citizens. Thus the praise for Thebes' liberation falls exclusively to Pelopidas, but pretty much the rest of the time he shares the praise with Epaminondas. At the Battle of Leuctra, for example, where Epaminondas was commander, he was the leader of the chosen Page 191 → band that was the first to overwhelm the phalanx of the Laconians. He was amid all the dangerous moments (when Sparta was attacked, for example, he commanded the other wing), and he went as an envoy to the Persians in order that Messene be liberated more quickly. In short, he was one of the two great citizens of Thebes, and although he was second, yet he was next to

Epaminondas.43]

A reader sensitive to ambition might conclude that it was Pelopidas' great misfortune to have lived at Thebes precisely when Epaminondas was even greater than he, but Nepos suggests that it was the combined efforts of both Epaminondas and Pelopidas that caused Theban success. Epaminondas was Thebes' greatest commander, but Pelopidas was his worthy second. The perspective of the final sentence of this passage is particularly telling: being second is no dishonor if one is second to Epaminondas, whose very preeminence Nepos has presented as his defining quality. Although we actually learn more here about the reason for Theban victory on the field at Leuctra than we ever did in the Epaminondas,44 the main thrust of this passage is to subsume Pelopidas' career under that of Epaminondas, with the proviso that the reader remember that Pelopidas made important contributions to Thebes' success.45 That leaves the reader to judge Pelopidas primarily through Nepos' direct praise for his liberation of Thebes. Since Epaminondas refused to be Page 192 → involved in the crucial first steps, this is the one case where Pelopidas deserves all the credit (propria laus est Pelopidae). Hence it is the only event described at length in the Pelopidas, and it is significant that its exemplary perspective is clearly positive. Because Epaminondas is characterized as the preeminent Theban, his exemplary priority would normally suggest that his actions could be read as the standard for Theban honor and propriety. Yet in this instance, even though Epaminondas would not participate, Nepos is explicit that Pelopidas' actions were praiseworthy. Hence he is endorsing Pelopidas' choice over Epaminondas', though he is not criticizing Epaminondas for making his choice. He includes but makes no further comment on Epaminondas' own rationale for keeping his hands clean of Theban blood, and the reader has to compare the Pelopidas to the Epaminondas to see how Nepos reveals his praise for Pelopidas' actions and not Epaminondas'. The eradication of tyranny, whether internally or externally imposed, emerges as something Nepos consistently finds exemplary. The liberation episode in the Pelopidas stands out for the detail and intensity of its narration; there is nothing as elaborate in the Epaminondas.46 Pelopidas himself, however, remains a minor player little characterized, and Nepos has to keep reminding the reader that he was the leader of the tyrannicides (1.4, 2.5, 3.3).47 Moreover, the arc of the story of the liberation, for all its internal detail, is largely archetypal and all the more exemplary because of that. It is the tyranny itself, its rise and fall, that holds Nepos' interest the most. The conditions of its origin are documented precisely (1.2–3): Phoebidas Lacedaemonius cum exercitum Olynthum duceret iterque per Thebas faceret, arcem oppidi, quae Cadmea nominatur, occupavit impulsu paucorum Thebanorum, qui adversariae factioni quo facilius resisterent, Laconum rebus studebant, idque suo privato, non publico Page 193 → fecit consilio. quo facto eum Lacedaemonii ab exercitu removerunt pecuniaque multarunt, neque eo magis arcem Thebanis reddiderunt, quod susceptis inimicitiis satius ducebant eos obsideri quam liberari. [When Phoebidas the Lacedaemonian was leading an army to Olynthus and passed through Thebes, he seized the citadel of the town, which is called the Cadmea, at the instigation of a few Thebans who were favoring Laconian interests so that they might more easily oppose a rival faction, and he did this not in accordance with any public counsel but on his own private determination. Once it was done, the Lacedaemonians expelled him from the army and punished him with a fine, but nevertheless they did not return the citadel to the Thebans, because they judged that once hostilities were initiated, it was better that the Thebans be besieged rather than liberated.] The decisions to seize and to retain the Theban Cadmea are depicted as the result of factionalism and partisanship. In each case, the interested party pursues what is felt to be an advantage relative to its rival, and the outcome is morally culpable. Phoebidas is tempted by a faction within Thebes who wants to use his strength against another Theban faction, and Nepos is emphatic that Phoebidas succumbed to their instigation without prior Spartan approval but on his own private judgment. The Spartans recognized the impropriety of his action and removed him from his command, but they then demonstrate the same politically hedged reasoning that Phoebidas did.

Nepos presents their deliberation as a choice about what was better (satius) for Sparta: to face an angry Thebes once freed or to extend the coup into a tyranny.48 Self-interest, not any sense of justice or propriety, is thus the motivating source behind either choice, and Nepos implicitly suggests, through this framing of their motivation, that once one's choices are limited to self-interest, it is not surprising that tyranny is the path chosen. Hence the Spartans stocked the Theban magistracies with their friends and either killed or exiled the leaders of the opposition (1.4).49 Page 194 → Pelopidas was among those exiled, most of whom ended up in Athens—not, says the moralizing Nepos, in order to pursue a life of leisure (non quo sequerentur otium, 2.1), but to plan for their recovery of Thebes.50 They conduct their planning while in communication with their supporters back in Thebes, and they choose a day “for the crushing of their enemies and the liberation of their state” (ad inimicos opprimendos civitatemque liberandam, 2.2). The two actions are already inseparably linked: to free Thebes means to crush those Thebans who stand in their way. Pelopidas will accept this price; Epaminondas will not. But Epaminondas will play his part when the enemies are Spartan, and Nepos now interrupts his narrative to explain to the reader directly that the shattering of Sparta is also bound up in this narrative of Theban civil war (2.3–4): magnae saepe res non ita magnis copiis sunt gestae, sed profecto numquam tam ab tenui initio tantae opes sunt profligatae. nam duodecim adulescentuli coierunt ex iis, qui exilio erant multati, cum omnino non essent amplius centum, qui tanto se offerrent periculo. qua paucitate percussa est Lacedaemoniorum potentia. hi enim non magis adversariorum factioni quam Spartanis eo tempore bellum intulerunt, qui principes erant totius Graeciae: quorum imperii maiestas, neque ita multo post, Leuctrica pugna ab hoc initio perculsa concidit. [Great deeds have often been achieved without very great forces, but never, surely, was such great might overthrown from so slight a beginning, for only twelve young men banded together out of those who had been punished with exile, and altogether there were no more than a hundred who would expose themselves to such great danger. With so few was the power of the Lacedaemonians struck down: for these men at that moment were making war no less against the Spartans, who were the leaders of all Greece, than against the faction of their opponents, and the mystique of Spartan power collapsed not very much later, shattered at the Battle of Leuctra, as a result of this beginning.] Page 195 → The Pelopidas, therefore, explains the Epaminondas. For Nepos, the liberation of Thebes in 379/8 BCE marks the beginning, slight (tenui) as it was, of the Theban rise to preeminence that culminated at the end of that decade, with Leuctra in 371 and the liberation of Messenia from Sparta in 370/69.51 Leuctra is presented in the Epaminondas as the act of liberating all Greece from Spartan tyranny, which, the reader now learns, the Thebans were capable of instigating because they had already freed themselves from that tyranny. Pelopidas was the second man of Thebes, and so his biography follows that of Epaminondas. Yet without Pelopidas' early leadership in removing the Spartan collaborators, Epaminondas could never have led Thebes to its hegemonic position over a free Greece. Hence this story of how Pelopidas first brought liberty to Thebes turns out to be the foundational exemplary event in these two Lives. This story ultimately reveals the value of resisting tyranny, even at the price of the blood of your own citizens, and demonstrates, for Nepos, the fundamental moral superiority of liberators over oppressors. That superiority is now highlighted through the conduct of the exiles as compared to their targets in Thebes. The exiles, in collaboration with their sympathizers in Thebes, deliberately choose a day for their return on which all the most important Theban magistrates were accustomed to feast together (2.2). The strategy behind the choice is apparent: the key targets will all already be assembled in one place and distracted by the pleasures of the feast. Led by Pelopidas, the exiles time their departure from Athens so that they arrive at Thebes at dusk. They take nets and hunting dogs with them, and they dress as country folk, in order that they not arouse suspicion. They arrive at

the house of their Theban host at the very time they had sought to do so (tempore ipso quo studuerant, 2.5). All these details show their care and their foresight.52 The Theban magistrates, in contrast, are so disdainful of the exiles that they do not even get up from the feast when they are informed that the exiles have returned to the city (3.1).53 The proof of what Nepos Page 196 → terms their madness (dementiam, 3.2) comes when the chief Theban magistrate is presented with a letter from Athens containing all the details of the exiles' departure and puts it aside unread, uttering what would become an ironic maxim, “I defer serious things until tomorrow” (3.3).54 The contrast between the strategic execution of the exiles' plans and the self-absorbed indifference of the Theban magistrates is designed to demonstrate, as Nepos himself articulates, “how excessive confidence is accustomed to lead to great destruction” (nimia fiducia quantae calamitati soleat esse, 3.1). That destruction quickly follows: “all these men, before that night was over, were killed in their drunken stupor by the exiles, led by Pelopidas” (illi omnes, cum iam nox processisset, vinolenti ab exulibus duce Pelopida sunt interfecti, 3.3). This sentence captures the specific achievement of Pelopidas: his leadership of the small band of exiles who dared to infiltrate the city and assassinate those of their fellow citizens who were serving at the Spartans' will.55 It is also where Pelopidas' own story effectively ends, however, for once the exiles kill those Theban servants of Sparta, they call the people of Thebes out of their homes to help them dislodge the Spartan garrison from the Cadmea (3.3): quibus rebus confectis, vulgo ad arma libertatemque vocato, non solum qui in urbe erant, sed etiam undique ex agris concurrerunt, praesidium Lacedaemoniorum ex arce pepulerunt, patriam obsidione liberarunt, auctores Cadmeae occupandae partim occiderunt, partim in exilium eiecerunt. [When that business was done, and when the people had been called to arms and to liberty—and they assembled from all directions, not only those who were in the city, but also those from the fields—they drove the Lacedaemonian garrison out of the citadel and liberated their country from siege. Some of those responsible for the occupation of the Cadmea they killed; some they forced in exile.] At this point in the story, the fight for liberation becomes glorious and morally Page 197 → unproblematic.56 By describing the call to arms as simultaneously a call to liberty (ad arma libertatemque), Nepos inherently justifies the violence that follows that call. The willing assembly of the people from all sides confirms their desire to be free, and the liberation of the city happens seemingly inevitably once the people are united against a Spartan garrison isolated from any internal Theban support. The courage of the exiles functions as an example to all. The city is liberated, and the cycle of retribution is then completed with a further round of capital punishment and exile, with the former exiles now trading places with their former accusers. But these punishments, approved by the free Theban citizenry, are as just as the former round of such sentences, imposed by a tyrannical few, was unjust. Civic violence in itself is not something Nepos dismisses in negative exemplary terms; the breadth of the political will behind the violence establishes its exemplary value. This is a different lesson from that presented in the Epaminondas, where any victory in a civil war was deemed “lamentably tainted” (funestam, Epam. 10.3). The greater detail of the Pelopidas clarifies that Epaminondas emerged from his house amid the general call of the people “to arms and to liberty,” when it could be safely ascertained that those Thebans chiefly responsible for upholding the Spartan tyranny were already dead and that the fight was then to be taken up directly against the Spartan garrison. Nepos is well aware of the difference between the choices of Epaminondas and Pelopidas, and he cross-references his earlier passage so that his reader is, too: “At this highly unsettled time, as explained above, Epaminondas stayed quiet in his house as long as the struggle was between citizens. Thus the praise for Thebes' liberation falls exclusively to Pelopidas” (Pel. 4.1).57 Nepos does not criticize Epaminondas for his unwillingness to dirty his hands with citizen blood, yet he openly declares that he regards Pelopidas' willingness to do so under these circumstances as an act worthy of praise (laus). The lack of overt authorial judgment at Epaminondas 10.3 suggests that Nepos recognizes Epaminondas' moral aversion to any form of civil war as not unreasonable and even in keeping with the strongly virtuous conduct Epaminondas exhibited throughout his leadership of Thebes. Yet it is not the attitude he himself endorses. While he allows that Epaminondas' actions have an exemplary value in their Page 198 → own right, Nepos

reveals his preference for the exemplary value of Pelopidas' actions.58 This historical moment therefore becomes methodologically significant, for Nepos shows that he recognizes how the actions of great men are not uniform in their exemplarity but derive their exemplary value from the ways in which they are framed by the authors that relate them. Because Nepos frames Epaminondas as the most preeminent man of Thebes and Pelopidas as the second, his framing explains why the narrative of Thebes' liberation from Spartan occupation is so important to the Pelopidas: because Nepos deems it the only significant praiseworthy act of Pelopidas' life that was achieved entirely independently of Epaminondas (4.1–3). It is the one occasion where, in Nepos' view, Pelopidas outshone Epaminondas' otherwise preeminent example. The exception proves the rule, and by reading both Lives together, the reader can see how Nepos endorses both Epaminondas' successful desire for civic preeminence and Pelopidas' greater willingness to do what was necessary to overthrow tyranny, for the latter was required to spark the former. Once the exceptional nature of this first episode of the Pelopidas is clarified to the reader, however, Nepos has little more to say about his subject, and he quickly pivots to the biography's conclusion. Pelopidas' being judged second to Epaminondas is attention enough. Nepos transitions to the circumstances surrounding Pelopidas' death by noting that Pelopidas, apparently unlike Epaminondas,59 contended with adverse fortune (conflictatus autem est cum adversa fortuna, 5.1). Nepos then offers two examples. The first is that Pelopidas was exiled after the Spartans seized control of Thebes, an example that the reader already regards as redounding to his credit, since he proved superior to his tyrannical exilers by liberating his city from them. Hence this first example does little more than strengthen the transition, while the second example occupies the rest of the section and is the final series of events by which to assess Pelopidas (and Epaminondas).60 Nepos explains that Pelopidas Page 199 → sought to bring Thessaly under the influence of Thebes and went as envoy to Alexander, the tyrant of Pherae. He judged himself protected by the international law that regarded envoys as neutral and inviolate (legationis iure, 5.1), yet Alexander seized him and held him in chains. Epaminondas eventually freed Pelopidas, a concrete demonstration of the former's preeminence relative to the latter, but Nepos presents Pelopidas not as in any way humbled relative to Epaminondas but, rather, as perpetually angered at Alexander: “never could his spirit be placated with regard to the man by whom he had been outraged” (numquam animo placari potuit in eum, a quo erat violatus, 5.2). Accordingly, says Nepos, he persuaded the Thebans to aid the Thessalians in overthrowing their tyrants, and he himself led the forces against Alexander. As soon as Pelopidas saw his enemy in battle, he became incensed with anger (incensus ira, 5.4) and attacked more vigorously than was prudent. He ended up out in front of his comrades and fell under a wave of missiles (5.3–4), to be lavishly commemorated by the already victorious Thessalians (5.5). The conditions of his death are similar to those of Epaminondas, whom Nepos described as attacking the Spartans “too boldly” (audacius), when he was recognized and struck down by a missile thrown from afar (Epam. 9.1). Yet Epaminondas retained his calm long enough to confirm Theban victory and utter his last words (9.3), while Pelopidas is presented as motivated by anger and mute in death (5.4). Perhaps this is further evidence of Epaminondas' greater achievement in virtue, but Nepos introduces it as the result of the adverse fortune with which Pelopidas had to contend (5.1).61 His anger against Alexander caused him to expose himself in battle and so his overzealous charge is not an action to imitate, but that anger was real: he had been imprisoned although an envoy. The truly inferior character in this story is the tyrant Alexander, one last reminder in the Pelopidas that tyranny is a morally corrupting force that merits destruction.62 This moral interpretation of tyranny is the theme that unites the Pelopidas with the Epaminondas: liberators are superior to tyrants, and so violence Page 200 → directed against tyrants is praiseworthy, while violence dictated by them is to be condemned. Since the political needs of the many outweigh the moral challenges for the few, Pelopidas' political killings were just: even violent acts of civil disobedience have positive exemplary value when it is a tyranny that is to be disobeyed. In a free state, however, civil disobedience by a preeminent citizen is more problematic, both morally and politically, for it involves the risk that such disobedience marks the origin of a potential tyrant who deems himself outside the law. Nepos' Epaminondas acknowledges that risk but resolves it through his characterization of his subject. The ambition of Nepos' Epaminondas merits emulation for three main reasons: he pursues virtue and not indulgence, he values the common good above his own, and he is willing to submit to the judgment of his peers in all circumstances. On these terms, the great individual is right to seek

preeminence for himself and his state, and there is room within a republic for the preeminent individual who merits exceptional treatment. Absolutely clean hands in public affairs are the exemplary ideal, but the dirty business of politics soils even natural leaders like Epaminondas with dilemmas that elude simple moral resolution. Events are complicated, and absolute lessons cannot always be drawn from them. Killing fellow citizens and retaining power illegally are traditionally the acts of tyrants, yet it is liberating to kill fellow citizens who are tyrants, and it is prudent to defy the law to save an army. It is Nepos' role as a biographer to demonstrate the complexity of these lessons through specific examples, and it is the role of his reader to recognize these examples as thematically focused in order to be morally and politically resonant. The practice of studying history for exemplary conduct does not deal in moral truism so much as in moral context.

Respecting Limits: Agesilaus Immediately following the Epaminondas and Pelopidas comes the Agesilaus.63 Given how the Spartans are characterized as the tyrants of Greece in Page 201 → the Lives of those two Thebans and especially how Epaminondas is hailed for overturning their tyranny at Leuctra while Pelopidas is praised for instigating their expulsion from Thebes, Nepos has created an expectation in his reader that the biography of the leading Spartan of this same period will not be a favorable one. Even the reader who might question Nepos' endorsement of Pelopidas' bloodier involvement in Thebes' liberation over Epaminondas' initial abstinence from it will likely still sympathize with the Thebans' fight against the Spartans. But Nepos confounds these expectations and presents Agesilaus as a positive exemplum, just as positive as Epaminondas. He achieves this characterization by omitting or refocusing any involvement of Agesilaus with the Spartan activities in Greece that inspired Greek opposition. Hence Agesilaus is not presented as an adversary of Epaminondas so much as a foil, a figure who espouses a different set of virtues and thereby represents a different exemplary ideal. Epaminondas is presented as the embodiment of the rise of Theban preeminence, a figure of ambition in a state ascending in power, while Agesilaus is characterized as the loyal conservative in a declining state. Even as Sparta is weakened, Agesilaus retains complete fidelity to the institutions and traditions within which he had always lived. For Nepos, Agesilaus' defining characteristic is his respect for those traditions, his obedience to the greater authorities—both human and divine—that limit his power. His character is presented without any of the vices that mark a tyrannical nature, and the Spartan military actions in Greece that are included in the Agesilaus are pointed to emphasize Agesilaus' dutifulness and his displeasure at fighting other Greeks.64 Page 202 → Nepos initiates the laudatory tone at the opening of the Life. The first sentence of one of Nepos' biographies often summarily frames the overall perspective of the account to follow, and the Agesilaus follows that pattern, though with the unique addition of the naming of his primary source (1.1): Agesilaus Lacedaemonius cum a ceteris scriptoribus tum eximie a Xenophonte Socratico collaudatus est: eo enim usus est familiarissime. [Agesilaus the Lacedaemonian has been highly praised not only by other writers but especially by the Socratic Xenophon, with whom he enjoyed a very close friendship.] Xenophon is singled out by name, and comparison with Xenophon's Agesilaus confirms that it was Nepos' primary source.65 Nepos characterizes Xenophon through his relationship to Socrates and his close friendship with Agesilaus himself. The fact of the friendship might cause one to regard Xenophon's praise of Agesilaus as the bias of an unreliable source, but for Nepos, the friendship appears to vouch for Xenophon's sincerity, and it becomes to Xenophon's credit that he was so close to a man so widely regarded as praiseworthy.66 Xenophon's epithet Socraticus functions as a similarly positive endorsement. It is not likely that Nepos' reading public knew of a Xenophon other than the one who wrote about Agesilaus, so defining him as a follower of Socrates is not necessary for clarity but is, rather, another means of qualifying Xenophon's principled thinking.67 Xenophon's

Agesilaus is an Page 203 → encomium, a work designed only to praise, whereas Nepos' Agesilaus, as a biography, should more properly allow for both praise and blame. Most of the biographies in On Foreign Generals offer mainly praise, perhaps a natural result from Nepos' choice of “distinguished generals” (de vita excellentium imperatorum, Pref. 8) as the subject of the book, for the fact of their distinction usually implies a positive legacy. Yet Nepos depicts Lysander as undeserving of his reputation as a great man (Lys. 1.1) and Alcibiades as unsurpassed in both his virtues and his vices (Alc. 1.1). So there are exceptions to the generally laudatory tone of the collection, but Nepos is signaling from his opening sentence of the Agesilaus that this biography will not be one of them. The exemplary and praiseworthy status of Agesilaus is asserted from the outset, almost in defiance of his position in the collection, immediately after his Theban opponents. Yet it then comes as a small surprise that the first episode of the biography is the exceptional one that contains no praise for Agesilaus whatsoever. The topic of the remainder of the first chapter is how Agesilaus came to power in Sparta, for “he had a dispute over the kingship with Leotychides, the son of his brother” (de regno cum Leotychide, fratris filio, habuit contentionem, 1.2).68 Nepos then explains for his readers that the custom in Sparta was to have two kings, “in name more than in power” (nomine magis quam imperio, 1.2), from each of two branches of the offspring of Hercules. Nepos names these two branches of the family and explains how the king's eldest son was regarded as first in line to succeed, then his closest male relative. Nepos' concise summary of the situation is an apt demonstration of how the biographer can review for his readers a larger historical phenomenon (the nature of the dual yet limited Spartan kingship) by focusing on a particular instance (the matter of this disputed succession).69 Then he comes to the issue in dispute: Page 204 → the deceased King Agis was survived by his brother Agesilaus and his son Leotychides, yet Agis' acknowledgment of Leotychides as his son came not at Leotychides' birth but only as Agis lay dying (natum non agnorat, eundem moriens suum esse dixerat, 1.4). The reader is puzzled: why did Agis not acknowledge his son at birth? Why did he do so later? Did Leotychides have a valid claim to the succession or not? Nepos answers none of these questions, and his language remains descriptive and studiously neutral: Leotychides “disputed the honor of the kingship with his uncle Agesilaus, but he did not obtain what he sought” (is de honore regni cum Agesilao, patruo suo, contendit neque id quod petivit consecutus est, 1.4). Since the reader has just been told that this biography of Agesilaus will praise him, one expects to hear that Leotychides failed in this dispute because Agesilaus' superiority was too widely recognized to be overcome. This moment in the narrative is distinctly where one would expect praise for the subject. But Nepos offers a different and more troubling reason for Agesilaus' success: “Agesilaus was preferred because of the support of Lysander, a man who was, as demonstrated [in his Life] earlier, partisan and at that time powerful” (nam Lysandro suffragante, homine, ut ostendimus supra, factioso et iis temporibus potente, Agesilaus antelatus est, 1.5). What makes this explanation troubling is the fact that Agesilaus is said to prevail not because his own good qualities merited his choice but, rather, because of the power of another's influence. It was Lysander's vote (suffragante) that mattered most, because he was powerful (potente) in Sparta at that moment. Lysander is described as partisan (factioso) and thus not an unbiased judge, and Nepos cross-references his Lysander earlier in the collection as a reminder of the poor nature of his political leadership.70 The relative worthiness of both Leotychides and Agesilaus is sublimated to Lysander's power and factionalism, while Nepos is mute about Agesilaus' own involvement. Nepos introduced the whole biography by asserting how widely Agesilaus was praised, yet the support from Lysander that decided Agesilaus' Page 205 → dispute with Leotychides is not the sort of honorable praise the opening of the biography would cause the reader to expect. The reader is left with the fact of Agesilaus' rise to power without having any favorable context for it. Praise for Agesilaus has to be assumed to be forthcoming for his subsequent achievements as king, once Agesilaus has separated himself from the factiousness of Lysander. In this instance, then, how one comes to power seems less important than what one does with it, and exemplary men are seen not to refuse an honor as great as that of the Spartan kingship, even if the politics behind the offer are not necessarily clean.71 Nepos then emphasizes how swiftly Agesilaus made his new position his own. “As soon as he obtained power” (hic simul atque imperii potitus est), Nepos claims, he persuaded the Spartans to declare war preemptively on the Persian king, “teaching them that it was preferable that the struggle be in Asia rather than in Europe” (docens satius esse in Asia quam in Europa dimicari, 2.1). He does secure official approval before he departs (data

potestate, 2.2), for he is, as Nepos said, a king in name more than in power (1.2), but he is presented as making his voice the influential one, and by doing so, he emerges as his own man.72 Page 206 → The subsequent Persian campaign of Agesilaus (396–394 BCE) is presented as a series of successes that result from the general's successful leadership qualities (2.2–3.6).73 The account of the campaign ends with unequivocal praise: “He conducted himself in Asia such that, in the opinion of all, he was considered the victor” (sic in Asia versatus est, ut omnium opinione victor duceretur, 3.6).74 Nepos does not detail a battle, however, or even any specific military tactics, except to say that Agesilaus recognized the Persian superiority in cavalry and therefore offered battle not on an open plain but only on ground advantageous to himself (3.6).75 His victories seemingly result from his own good qualities, and in this campaign, Nepos presents four such qualities that interact symbiotically: speed, foresight, industry, and, above all, good faith. “He made use of such quickness,” Nepos says of Agesilaus, “that he reached Asia with his forces before the Persians even knew he had set out” (tanta celeritate usus est, ut prius in Asiam cum copiis pervenerit, quam regii satrapae eum scirent profectum, 2.2). This is likely a bit of hyperbole, but one that directly sets up the significant exemplum that follows.76 Since Agesilaus had come upon the Persians unprepared and unsuspecting (imparatos imprudentesque, 2.2), their commander Tissaphernes was forced to buy time. Nepos openly characterizes the commander's motivations as hypocritical: Tissaphernes sought a truce of three months,77 “pretending that he would see to it that the Lacedaemonians have a conference with the king, but in reality Page 207 → so that he could raise an army” (simulans se dare operam, ut Lacedaemoniis cum rege conveniret, re autem vera ad copias comparandas, 2.3). Agesilaus accepts the request, and “each side swore that he would preserve the truce without deceit” (iuravit autem uterque se sine dolo indutias conservaturum, 2.3). Yet the reader already knows Tissaphernes' oath is a false one, which, in the moralizing and exemplary text of Nepos, thereby foreshadows his defeat and Agesilaus' victory. Nepos is not to be satisfied with foreshadowing, however, but is explicit about the perils of offending the gods (2.4–5): in qua pactione summa fide mansit Agesilaus, contra ea Tissaphernes nihil aliud quam bellum comparavit. id etsi sentiebat Laco, tamen iusiurandum servabat multumque in eo se consequi dicebat, quod Tissaphernes periurio suo et homines suis rebus abalienaret et deos sibi iratos redderet, se autem conservata religione confirmare exercitum, cum animadverteret deum numen facere secum, hominesque sibi conciliari amiciores, quod iis studere consuessent, quos conservare fidem viderent. [To this pact Agesilaus adhered with the greatest good faith, but Tissaphernes, on the contrary, did nothing else but prepare for war. Although the Laconian perceived this, nevertheless he preserved his oath and said that he obtained much by doing so, because Tissaphernes by his perjury would both alienate men from his affairs and render the gods angry at him, whereas, he said, in maintaining his own religious scruples he was encouraging his army, since they would see that the spirit of the gods was on their side, and he was rendering mankind more kindly to his forces, since people were accustomed to support those whom they saw preserving their good faith.] The passage begins and ends with good faith (fides), and the moral tone is so heavy that the reader is left in no doubt that Agesilaus' choice to uphold his pledge, even when the enemy was appearing to gain some immediate advantage from abandoning his, is an exemplum to be imitated. The lesson is clear: a military advantage in the short term does not justify breaking an oath, for men know that the gods will see to it that justice is done in the end. In the first of several articulations of this theme that will appear in this Life, the reader is already expected to see how the desire for victory does not justify transgressing religious boundaries established and enforced by moral tradition. Industry, by contrast, might appear the least significant of the leadership Page 208 → qualities attributed to Agesilaus in this campaign, but it gains in importance by the way that Nepos links it to a prioritizing of victory over booty. The Persian assumes that Agesilaus will attack Caria for its riches and so concentrates all his forces

there, but Agesilaus turns instead to Phrygia and ravages it “before Tissaphernes could get moving at all” (prius…quam Tissaphernes usquam se moveret, 3.2). This agility causes Agesilaus to return to his winter quarters in Ephesus after the first season of the campaign with his soldiers greatly enriched (magna praeda militibus locupletatis, 3.2), even though he did not design his campaign to maximize plunder.78 Yet he recognizes the incentive that prizes generate and therefore employs them to focus the army's preparation for their subsequent campaign (3.2–3):79 ibi officinis armorum institutis magna industria bellum apparavit. et quo studiosius armarentur insigniusque ornarentur, praemia propo-suit, quibus donarentur, quorum egregia in ea re fuisset industria. fecit idem in exercitationum generibus, ut, qui ceteris praestitissent, eos magnis afficeret muneribus. his ergo rebus effecit ut et ornatissimum et exercitatissimum haberet exercitum. [There [in Ephesus] he set up arms factories and prepared for war with great industry. In order that the arms be made more carefully and adorned more splendidly, he proposed that prizes be given to those whose industry in this task had been outstanding. He did the same thing in various types of physical training, bestowing great rewards on those who had excelled the others. By means of these policies, he brought it about that he had an army that was both very well equipped and very well trained.] Page 209 → These policies appear rather mundane yet can be effective when well managed, and Nepos' choice to include a description of this winter's activities thereby stresses that a general's leadership involves off-season preparation as well as active command. Competition is to be encouraged and properly directed, even in camp and especially when it leads to a more self-sufficient force. Agesilaus' army emerges into the next campaigning season confident in its own resources, and financial or logistical needs therefore need not affect his strategizing. The Persians, who still do not understand the Spartan's prioritization of success over booty, continue to think that Agesilaus will attack Caria for the concentration of its wealth, but Agesilaus adds a new element to his strategy this year in order to further that mistaken assumption. He announces that he will attack Sardis, anticipating that the openness of his announcement will mean that the Persians will not believe it (3.4–5). Accordingly, when Agesilaus follows through on his plans and assaults Sardis, Tissaphernes has fallen for the ruse and fails to mount an adequate defense (3.5): Tissaphernes eandem Cariam defendendam putavit. in quo cum eum opinio fefellisset victumque se vidisset consilio, sero suis praesidio profectus est. nam cum illo venisset, iam Agesilaus multis locis expugnatis magna erat praeda potitus. [Tissaphernes thought that Caria, as before, should be defended. When his opinion had caused him to be mistaken in this matter and he saw that he had been defeated by means of strategy, he set out to protect his people, but too late, for by the time he arrived, Agesilaus had already stormed many places and acquired a great amount of booty.] Nepos directly states that Agesilaus won because of strategy (consilio) and that Tissaphernes himself realized his own failure. The paradigm is clear: victory and its rewards result from industry and foresight. A disciplined focus on the ultimate ends of the war leads to success in ways that a desire to maximize spoils does not, and this discipline is rightfully set by the army's commander.80 Page 210 → Agesilaus' first two seasons of his campaign were successful enough that he had bigger ambitions for his third. But as he was on the point of departing to attack the king himself, Nepos says, a messenger came from the ephors at home reporting that the Athenians and Boeotians had declared war on the Lacedaemonians: he should return without hesitation (4.1).81 Agesilaus' response—and Nepos' direct reaction to it—marks the defining moment of

the biography (4.2–3): In hoc non minus eius pietas suspicienda est quam virtus bellica: qui cum victori praeesset exercitui maximamque haberet fiduciam regni Persarum potiundi, tanta modestia dicto audiens fuit iussis absentium magistratuum, ut si privatus in comitio esset Spartae. cuius exemplum utinam imperatores nostri sequi voluissent! sed illuc redeamus. Agesilaus opulentissimo regno praeposuit bonam existimationem multoque gloriosius duxit, si institutis patriae paruisset, quam si bello superasset Asiam. [In this instance, his dutifulness is to be admired no less than his martial virtue. Even though this man commanded a victorious army and had the greatest confidence of acquiring the kingdom of the Persians, he was obedient to the orders of his absent magistrates with such restraint that it was as if he had been in the comitium at Sparta as a private citizen. If only our commanders had wished to follow his example! But let me return to my point. Agesilaus preferred a good reputation to the wealthiest kingdom, and he considered that it would be much more glorious if he obeyed the institutions of his state than if he subdued Asia in war.] The limitations on Agesilaus' power as a king have already been indicated by Nepos, both when the kings of Sparta were described as kings “in name more than in authority” (nomine magis quam imperio, 1.2) and when Agesilaus did Page 211 → not launch his Persian campaign until “permission was granted” (data potestate, 2.2). The passive voice in the latter phrase obscures the agent, but Agesilaus has just been described (in 2.1) as having persuaded the Lacedaemonians as a whole. Agesilaus thus appears as a leader of the people who is guided by magistrates, and so it is not as a king but as a commander that Nepos judges him as having provided an exemplum for Roman commanders.82 That exemplum is formally marked by Nepos' authorial outburst (“If only our commanders had wished to follow his example!”), but the exemplary language in this passage begins with Nepos' claim that Agesilaus' dutifulness (pietas) is to be admired (suspicienda, literally “looked up to”) no less than his virtue at war (virtus bellica).83 This combination of piety and martial virtue summarizes and extends the themes of the narrative of Agesilaus' Persian campaigns, where his skill at outstrategizing Tissaphernes followed the demonstration of his good faith (fides) relative to the Persian's. Also as in that campaign, winning is not to be regarded as retroactively justifying impropriety, whether it be Tissaphernes' violation of an oath of truce or Agesilaus' disregard of a command from a superior political authority. Nepos stresses that even though Agesilaus was at the head of an army that had already proven itself, which gave him the greatest confidence that he could dethrone the Persian king,84 he obeyed a command from the ephors as if he were present before them.85 The sentence is structured to make Agesilaus' position Page 212 → of strength concessive (i.e., he obeyed even though he had control of a powerful army), and the implication is significant.86 The concession suggests that some would have forgiven Agesilaus for ignoring his ephors' instructions if he had succeeded in conquering Persia. Because Nepos understands how strong the temptation for such success is, Agesilaus' rejection of it provokes Nepos to exclaim, “If only our commanders had wished to follow his example!” The words “our commanders” suggest the Roman commanders of Nepos' lifetime, whom he here openly judges to have failed to resist the temptations of an unconstitutional military command. He then clarifies his exclamation by saying explicitly what was implicit in the sentence just above (and in his account of the Persian campaign): that Agesilaus preferred good reputation (bonam existimationem) to the wealthiest kingdom and found it much more glorious to obey the institutions of his state than to subdue Asia in war.87 This passage thus draws together the themes of the Life up to this point and focuses them directly as an exemplum for Nepos' contemporary readers. A commander's obedience to proper political authority is to be praised, even when—and indeed especially when—a valuable military position has to be sacrificed. Agesilaus' now-established qualities of dutifulness and martial virtue immediately appear again in the narrative. On the march back to Greece, just as he had on the march to Asia, “he made use of such speed” (tanta usus Page 213 → est celeritate, 4.4; the same phrase at 2.2) that he managed in thirty days a journey that took Xerxes a year.88 The result was that he was promptly met at Coronea by a force of Athenians, Boeotians, and their allies, “all of whom he defeated in heavy fighting” (quos omnes gravi proelio vicit, 4.5).89 Again we see that battle

narratives are not Nepos' interest, nor, for him, are tactics or strategy the most notable aspects of a general's leadership. The anecdote that Nepos selects to define Agesilaus' victory on this occasion is, instead, further evidence of his respect for the divine (4.6–8): huius victoriae vel maxima fuit laus, quod, cum plerique ex fuga se in templum Minervae coniecissent quaerereturque ab eo, quid iis vellet fieri, etsi aliquot vulnera acceperat eo proelio et iratus videbatur omnibus, qui adversus arma tulerant, tamen antetulit irae religionem et eos vetuit violari. neque vero hoc solum in Graecia fecit, ut templa deorum sancta haberet, sed etiam apud barbaros summa religione omnia simulacra arasque conservavit. itaque praedicabat mirari se, non sacrilegorum numero haberi, qui supplicibus deorum nocuissent, aut non gravioribus poenis affici, qui religionem minuerent, quam qui fana spoliarent. [The most praiseworthy element of this victory was when many had fled to the temple of Minerva and he was asked what he wanted done to them, and he, even though he had received several wounds in that battle and seemed angry at all those who had taken up arms on the other side, nevertheless valued religious scruple above anger and forbid them to be harmed. Nor indeed was it only in Greece that he regarded the temples of the gods as sacred, but even among foreigners, he protected all images and altars with the greatest sense of religious scruple. Hence he used to proclaim that he was amazed that those who harmed suppliants of the gods were not counted among the sacrilegious and that those who made light of religious scruple were not afflicted with greater penalties than those who despoiled sanctuaries.] Page 214 → The best judgment of Agesilaus' victory, for Nepos, comes from his continued demonstration of religious scruple, even when tested by physical wounds and mental anger. He had legitimate cause to exact violent punishment, yet he valued religion above anger (antetulit irae religionem). This single anecdote defines what Nepos sees as the biographical value of the whole event. Exemplary command is demonstrated through exemplary acts of character, and so Nepos here digresses to note that the respect Agesilaus rendered to religion on this occasion was representative of his conduct everywhere, both in Greece and abroad, and was the result of his own stated belief that failing to retain one's religious scruple is tantamount to despoiling a shrine. Much as with the inclusion of Agesilaus' own reasoning behind his proper upholding of his truce with Tissaphernes (2.5), Nepos elucidates the moral reasoning of his subject in order to endorse the moral character it establishes. The lesson being repeatedly endorsed in this Life is the value—morally and politically—of a commander who shows his respect for the limits of his power by recognizing and upholding his obligations to the divine (fides in 2.4–5, religio here in 4.6–8) and to his state (pietas in 4.2).90 This respect is now tested further by what Nepos characterizes as civil war. Agesilaus' virtues and abilities as a commander have so far been defined through his successes against a foreign enemy, but his return to Greece now pits him against an enemy whose conquest Nepos presents as more morally ambiguous. The biographer is not concerned to set the historical context precisely, Page 215 → but he does choose to emphasize that Agesilaus is very aware that he is fighting other Greeks (5.1–2):91 Post hoc proelium collatum omne bellum est circa Corinthum ideoque Corinthum est appellatum. hic cum una pugna decem milia hostium Agesilao duce cecidissent eoque facto opes adversariorum debilitatae viderentur, tantum afuit ab insolentia gloriae, ut commiseratus sit fortunam Graeciae, quod tam multi a se victi vitio adversariorum concidissent: namque illa multitudine, si sana mens esset, Graeciae supplicium Persas dare potuisse. [After this battle [i.e., Coronea], the whole war centered on the region around Corinth and, on that account, was called the Corinthian War. Although ten thousand of the enemy fell in a single battle there under Agesilaus' command and the strength of his adversaries seemed to have been debilitated by this deed, he was so far from boastful insolence that he lamented the fortune of Greece, because,

through the fault of his opponents, so many men, defeated by him, had fallen: with that multitude, in fact, if sound minds had prevailed, the Persians could have been punished by Greece.]

Nepos has Agesilaus, freshly returned from his Persian campaign, imagine Greece as a unified people and, hence, a war between the cities of Greece as a civil war. Fighting those who should be your allies is lamentable to Agesilaus, Page 216 → who, in another piece of moral reasoning attributed to the subject himself, would prefer to use the combined strength of Greece against a foreign enemy. The significance of such a perspective for Nepos is that it provides an opportunity to have Agesilaus explain and even justify his involvement in the death of ten thousand Greeks. In the language Nepos attributes to Agesilaus, those Greeks were admittedly conquered by Agesilaus (a se victi), but they fell not because of his interest in fighting them but because of the fault (vitio) of his enemies.92 Civil war, by definition, is a conflict in which each party believes that it is fighting for the good of the state, and so the rhetoric of justification that civil war generates is usually exemplary for its partisanship more than its moral clarity. For the reader to respect Agesilaus' perspective on such a war, therefore, the reader has to have cause to trust that perspective, something Nepos has tangibly provided in the first half of the biography. Because the reader has already seen how Agesilaus is dutiful and scrupulous, how he was successful against the Persians, and especially how he recognized the authority of the institutions of his state, Nepos' presentation of Agesilaus' perspective on his Corinthian War victory gains credibility for his reader. According to that perspective, the ten thousand dead are the fault of his enemies, for they are the ones who do not recognize proper limits. Given his preferences, he would be in Persia with an even larger army, which is thereby endorsed as a morally preferable alternative to civil war. This point is sufficiently important to Nepos that, in this instance, he does not let one example stand for many (as at Epam. 4.6) but offers a second, more extended example emphasizing the lesson of the first (as at Epam. 7.3). This second example not only relates more of Agesilaus' own reasoning but also includes, for the first and only time in the biography, his direct speech (5.3): Page 217 → idem cum adversarios intra moenia compulisset et ut Corinthum oppugnaret multi hortarentur, negavit id suae virtuti convenire: se enim eum esse dixit, qui ad officium peccantis redire cogeret, non qui urbes nobilissimas expugnaret Graeciae. “nam si” inquit “eos exstinguere voluerimus, qui nobiscum adversus barbaros steterunt, nosmet ipsi nos expugnaverimus illis quiescentibus. quo facto sine negotio, cum voluerint, nos oppriment.” [This same man, when he had driven his opponents within the walls and many were urging him to besiege Corinth, said that it was not consistent with his virtue: for he said that he was the sort who compelled wrongdoers to return to their duty, not the sort who overwhelmed the most notable cities of Greece. “For if,” he said, “we wish to destroy those who stood with us against the foreigners, we ourselves will overwhelm each other while they rest their strength. Once we have finished, they will oppress us when they wish without a struggle.”] The power of the anecdote derives from its consistency with the characterization of Agesilaus already presented. Nepos has so emphasized Agesilaus' commitment to upholding his obligations that when the subject himself declares his character to be one that compels wrongdoers to return to their duty, the reader nods in recognition. The storming of the cities of his misguided allies is not for him. Sound minds need to prevail (5.2). The political point then derives from the moral one: civil war is a bane that undermines national strength, a strength that would be glorious if directed externally. Moreover, a commander should not seek a civil war or advance one on his own initiative. A commander should know his limits and use his power to bring others to their duty. If every citizen comprehended this lesson and recognized his duty to the common good of his state rather than his own partisan interests, civil war could be minimized, and internal unity could be maximized through external aggression.93 Page 218 →

In the way that Nepos telescopes the long life of Agesilaus into this brief biography, the civil war that Agesilaus did not want to fight now turns tragic and leads to Spartan defeat. Nepos moves directly (interim, 6.1) from Agesilaus' protests about Greeks fighting Greeks in the Corinthian War in the late 390s BCE to the Theban defeat of Sparta at Leuctra in 371 BCE and the subsequent campaign of Epaminondas in 370/69 into the Peloponnesus and against the city of Sparta itself. The reader who is not already aware of the shape of Greek history will not recognize this omission of two decades and will infer that Leuctra was the turning point in the Corinthian War. Nepos does refer to Leuctra as “that well-known disaster” (illa calamitas, 6.1) for the Lacedaemonians, but the transition is unclear chronologically, and the effect of the transition biographically is to situate the actions of Agesilaus amid the defeat of his city in what has just been presented as a Greek civil war.94 “As if he divined the outcome” (ut si de exitu divinaret, 6.1),95 says Nepos, Agesilaus did not fight at Leuctra even though many urged him to go, a decision that is understandable in light of his dislike of fighting civil wars, described by Nepos in the previous paragraph. It is entirely clear, however, that Agesilaus' absence at Leuctra was not due to an unwillingness to defend Page 219 → Sparta, for Nepos next declares that it was due to Agesilaus that Sparta survived at all (6.1): cum Epaminondas Spartam oppugnaret essetque sine muris oppidum, talem se imperatorem praebuit, ut eo tempore omnibus apparuerit, nisi ille fuisset, Spartam futuram non fuisse. [When Epaminondas was besieging Sparta (a city without walls), [Agesilaus] showed himself to be such a commander that it was apparent to everyone at that time that if he had not been there, Sparta would have ceased to exist.] Nepos' praise could not be greater: without the actions of Agesilaus, Sparta would literally have ceased to exist.96 A simpler turn of phrase would be to say that Agesilaus saved his city, but Nepos chose the more dramatic double negative: the city would no longer have existed if he had not been there. Moreover, Nepos documents that the significance of Agesilaus' conduct was immediately recognized: “it was apparent to everyone at that time” that Agesilaus was the city's savior. The commander who did not want this war was nevertheless the man who was universally recognized to have preserved his city. “In that critical moment, his speed at strategy was the safety of everyone” (in quo quidem discrimine celeritas eius consilii saluti fuit universis, 6.2). Agesilaus' quickness and successful strategizing were earlier presented as crucial to the success of his Persian campaigns, and now they reappear to save Sparta itself. Hence the exemplary importance of those earlier episodes now becomes even stronger. The critical moment for Sparta develops when certain young Spartans panic at the arrival of the Theban army and prepare to defect to the Thebans by seizing a piece of high ground just outside the city. Agesilaus recognizes how ruinous the news of such a defection would be for Sparta's chances, so he goes to the potential defectors and joins his men with them; praising their strategy (consilium) in seizing that location, he says that he also had noticed that it ought to be done.97 Nepos says that Agesilaus made Page 220 → these claims “as if [the potential defectors] had acted in the right spirit” (ut si bono animo fecissent, 6.2) and that he won them back “by his feigned praise” (simulata laudatione, 6.3). Once they were integrated with other Spartans, they were all the more willing to stay loyal “because they thought that what they had been planning was unknown” (quod latere arbitrabantur quae cogitaverant, 6.3).98 Strategic dissimulation is thus endorsed for its vital results: the prevention of Spartan defection and the preservation of the defense of the city. Once again Nepos finds events determined not by the fighting itself but by a notable piece of mental strategy that defines the successful defense of Sparta. As such, the episode becomes a highlight of his biographical approach, for the character of the action is entirely consistent with Nepos' depiction of the character of its agent. The Life now moves toward its conclusion, having concentrated on the moment of Agesilaus' recall from Persia as the defining moment of his character and on his presence at the defense of Sparta as the defining moment of his contribution to his city. His patriotism so tightly connects one story to the other that Nepos now merely asserts that the rest of Agesilaus' life displayed similar loyalty to his city, even though its fortunes continued to decline (7.1):

Sine dubio post Leuctricam pugnam Lacedaemonii se numquam refecerunt neque pristinum imperium recuperarunt, cum interim numquam Agesilaus destitit quibuscumque rebus posset patriam iuvare. [Without doubt, after the Battle of Leuctra, the Lacedaemonians never regained their strength or recovered their former empire, although the whole time Agesilaus never ceased to help his country by whatever means he could.] The latter part of this statement is the core of Nepos' exemplary presentation of Agesilaus in this biography. The praiseworthy commander is one who never ceases to help his city, who adapts to changing circumstances, even negative circumstances, by finding new ways to serve. Nepos then offers as an example Agesilaus' willingness to act in defense of those who had revolted Page 221 → from the Persian king at a time when Sparta was especially short of money, for when he received a great deal of money from those he defended, he used it to lighten the burdens of his homeland (7.2).99 For Nepos, this service is far less dramatic but just as representative as his earlier deeds. Even as Agesilaus saw the power of Sparta continue to dwindle, he remained the same throughout. This example triggers Nepos's transition from Agesilaus' public virtues to his private ones, though with the implicit understanding that the latter contributed to the former and formed a consistent character (7.3–4):100 atque in hoc illud in primis fuit admirabile, cum maxima munera ei ab regibus ac dynastis civitatibusque conferrentur, quod nihil umquam domum suam contulit, nihil de victu, nihil de vestitu Laconum mutavit. domo eadem fuit contentus qua Eurysthenes, progenitor maiorum suorum, fuerat usus: quam qui intrarat, nullum signum libidinis, nullum luxuriae videre poterat, contra ea plurima patientiae atque abstinentiae. sic enim erat instructa, ut in nulla re differret cuiusvis inopis atque privati. [And this was especially admirable in this man, that when the greatest gifts were conferred upon him by kings and dynasts and cities, he never took any of them to his own house; he changed nothing involving his Laconian dress and way of life. He was content with the same house that Eurysthenes, the progenitor of his ancestors, had enjoyed, Page 222 → and one who entered it could see no sign of pleasure or luxury, but he could, on the other hand, see very many signs of discipline and abstinence. The house was furnished such that it differed in no way from that of any old private citizen of moderate means.] The private virtues explain the public ones. Because Agesilaus was not interested in money for personal luxury—a quality that, as Nepos presents it, any visitor to his house could readily see—he kept none of the lavish gifts he received, thereby making them available for public use, just as he had done with the money received from those he helped after they revolted from the Persian king (7.2)101 and just as he would do in the final expedition of his life, when he fell ill as he was returning from Egypt with 220 talents “to give to his people as a gift” (quae ille muneri populo suo daret, 8.6). Because Agesilaus regarded money as a means for his political service, not a reward for his individual achievement, he remained especially valuable to his city from the beginning—when the Persian inability to realize this attitude of his was one reason why Nepos suggests he was so successful in his first campaigns as a Spartan commander—all the way to the end of his public career.102 The relationship between public and private virtue deliberately overlaps in political biography, for the narrative focuses on character, which stems from private virtues but is most widely seen on public occasions. For the biographical method to be most valuable, a man's character should be consistent in his public and private life, which means that an anecdote drawn from either can illuminate both. Nepos' final extended anecdote of this biography combines such a perspective on Agesilaus' private habits and public reputation to good effect. When Agesilaus, at the age of eighty, arrived in Egypt to fight on behalf of King Tachus, Nepos reports that the king's courtiers brought gifts of every kind to his camp as soon as they heard of his arrival (8.3).103 They Page 223 → found Agesilaus eating his dinner while reclining on the beach on top of an animal skin spread out over some straw, without any sort of tent or cover, and his companions reclining with him, all dressed in such worn clothing “that their dress not only did not indicate that a king was among them but even fostered the suspicion that they were not men of wealth” (ut eorum ornatus non modo in his regem neminem significaret, sed homines non

beatissimos suspicionem praeberet, 8.2). Hence the king's agents could scarcely believe (vix fides facta est, 8.3) that the Spartan king was present before them, but they nonetheless delivered to Agesilaus the gifts they had brought. He accepted the veal and the other food that could be eaten presently, and he had the perfumes, garlands, and desserts distributed among his attendants. The rest he sent back (8.4). “Because he did this, the foreigners held him in even more contempt, for they thought that he had accepted those gifts in particular because he was unacquainted with good things” (quo facto eum barbari magis etiam contempserunt, quod eum ignorantia bonarum rerum illa potissimum sumpsisse arbitrabantur, 8.5). The cultural misunderstanding is perfect emphasis for Nepos' point. The lavish gifts of one king are rejected because of the plain needs of the other, and Nepos' moral lies in the very fact that he regards the simple as preferable to the luxurious. Those who value luxury will miss the lesson, but those who recognize that the real goods in life are self-sufficiency and habitual virtue will see just how exemplary even the aged Agesilaus remained.104 The very fact that an exemplary life can be interpreted differently is thus the last of Nepos' points in the Agesilaus, for he introduces the anecdote of Agesilaus on the Egyptian beach with a larger comment about the appearance of Agesilaus that also incorporates the essential lesson about the value of biographical writing (8.1): Page 224 → Atque hic tantus vir ut naturam fautricem habuerat in tribuendis animi virtutibus, sic maleficam nactus est in corpore fingendo: nam et statura fuit humili et corpore exiguo et claudus altero pede. quae res etiam nonnullam afferebat deformitatem, atque ignoti, faciem eius cum intuerentur, contemnebant; qui autem virtutes noverant, non poterant admirari satis. [Moreover, just as this great man possessed a natural disposition that was favorable in regard to displaying the virtues of his mind, so also did he receive one that was mischievous in the shaping of his body: for he was both humble in stature and small in body, as well as lame in one foot. This condition even caused a certain amount of deformity, and those who did not know him, when they observed his appearance, held him in contempt; yet those who had come to know of his virtues could not admire him enough.] Nepos' physical description of Agesilaus makes it more apparent why the Egyptian courtiers were so surprised to discover that the lame old man they found lying on the beach in worn clothes was none other than the Spartan king. Nepos' deferral of this physical description until the final anecdote of his biography is also significant for the Life's structure and revealing of its method. By means of this deferral, Nepos has introduced his readers to Agesilaus' many virtues before allowing them to picture his physical appearance; hence, by the time readers come to this physical description, they already have reason to be among the group who cannot admire him enough.105 Nepos, in short, has protected his readers from making such superficial judgments of appearance as the Egyptian courtiers did. Hence they can appreciate the irony when Nepos then goes on to explain how those courtiers found Agesilaus' simple life and simple needs to be indicators of his ignorance of fine things (8.5). The arrangement of this final section highlights Nepos' skills as a biographer, for it encapsulates the way that biography is to present the reality of a man's character through selective example. The biographer looks to get underneath the appearance of the man, without having to explain all Page 225 → of his achievements. If, at the conclusion of the Agesilaus, Nepos' readers appreciate the virtuous character of the Spartan and thereby understand why the Egyptian courtiers were mistaken in their assessment of him, then his biography is a success. The final event of the Life, as customary in Nepos, is the subject's death and the conditions of his burial. Agesilaus fell ill and died while en route back to Sparta from Egypt, and his friends escorted the body home with honor (8.6–7).106 The Life closes without any summary comment, unlike the Epaminondas, but its exemplary lessons have been consistent and unified under the judgment that “Agesilaus never ceased to help his country in whatever ways he could” (numquam Agesilaus destitit quibuscumque rebus posset patriam iuvare, 7.1).107 The arc of Spartan power during Agesilaus' reign makes the judgment more poignant and the lesson more substantial. In his early years, when he fought a proper foreign enemy, Agesilaus displayed quickness in movement and strategy, yet he still found time for the promotion of industriousness, and he staked his reputation on the integrity with which

he respected the power of the divine. That respect for the limits of a commander's power was proven when he immediately obeyed the command of his ephors to abandon his Persian campaign and return to defend his homeland, where his initial successes in what is depicted as an internecine Greek war nevertheless ultimately led to catastrophic defeat for Sparta. Even then, however, though he derived no pleasure or glory from civil war, he saved his city through a quick application of strategic dissimulation. The rest of his life was spent in a persistent attempt to recover his city's prestige, at which he persevered with the same simplicity of circumstances and commitment to service that he had maintained throughout his life. Had he ignored the ephors and defeated the Persian king in 394, Spartan history in the fourth century could have been much different, yet Nepos most praises Agesilaus for refusing to yield to the temptation of achieving such a victory. “If only our commanders had wished to follow his example,” Nepos laments (4.2), and the subsequent story of Page 226 → Agesilaus' life challenges readers to respect the limits of a career in which a commanding officer always sacrifices individual for civic glory. The consolation for Agesilaus' witnessing of the decline of Spartan power, as Nepos presents it, is the moral integrity of his own actions. He did not prefer his own glory to the authority of his city's magistrates, and he did not diminish his service to his city under any circumstances. Hence Agesilaus' power as an exemplum can still reverberate even when his city's fortunes crumbled around him, for it is his own mores that form his fortune. In significant ways, then, Nepos places Agesilaus' Life outside the trajectory of Spartan power. Agesilaus is not presented as in any way responsible for Spartan decline or for the abuses of Spartan hegemony that caused other Greeks to turn against Sparta. He is distanced from the tyrannical Lysander as soon as he becomes king, and he is shown as a great commander against an acceptable foreign foe. He is said to have regarded the Spartan conflicts with other Greek states as civil wars that undermined the larger potential of united Greeks against Persia.108 In the Agesilaus, Nepos describes Leuctra as a calamity (calamitas, 6.1) for Sparta, whereas it is characterized in the Epaminondas as an immortal achievement (immortalis, 10.2). These two assessments of Leuctra demonstrate concretely how both the Agesilaus and the Epaminondas are sympathetic to their subjects and, thus, that Nepos desires his reader to be sympathetic as well. Yet the sympathy for the Spartan position Page 227 → in the Agesilaus is specifically the result of Agesilaus' own virtues, because he conducted himself in a way that Nepos admires. Nepos never explains, much less justifies or endorses, the policy or practices of Spartan hegemony in the fourth century. What matters are individual qualities of character: when the ephors called Agesilaus home to defend his city, he did so without hesitation and with effectiveness. That response, for Nepos, is an act of exemplary patriotism that transcends its context within a larger Spartan policy that would later tyrannize Thebes. Virtue is to be praised wherever it occurs. It need not be limited to one side of a conflict, even if one side has a definite moral and political advantage. Hence Agesilaus and Epaminondas can represent a virtuous Spartan and a virtuous Theban, respectively, even while Nepos presents the Spartans as tyrants righteously overthrown by Epaminondas and Pelopidas. The virtuous best of both cities can be equally advanced as positive exemplary models. The ability to be sympathetic to both sides at the same time requires a sense of nonpartisan relativism: not the sort of cultural relativism that Nepos advocates in his Preface, where he says that the cultural habits of different peoples are not to be judged as inflexibly honorable or base, but a relativism that can accept that the enemy of your hero is not necessarily your enemy and may well be a hero to his own people. Admiring the Thebans for shattering Spartan tyranny need not entail disparaging a Spartan who loyally serves his city. Dedicated patriotism should instead be regarded as a unifying quality among them all, a virtue not to be relativized but to be celebrated as culturally transcendent and morally good. Such nonpartisan relativism therefore requires some adjustment in perspective and terminology. Epaminondas will not kill fellow Thebans even when they are puppets for tyrants, but his definition of civil war includes only Thebans. A conflict against Sparta is, for him, a just one against an external enemy, the type of conflict Agesilaus imagines against Persia. What Agesilaus regards as civil war between Greek cities that should be allied together is regarded by Epaminondas and Pelopidas as retaliation for tyrannical action from those who have been oppressed. Both Epaminondas and Agesilaus would perhaps agree that a unified expedition of Greeks against Persia would be honorable, but Agesilaus would lead it under a Spartan hegemony and Epaminondas under a Theban one. Hence both sides utilize similar frameworks, but they label the players within the framework differently. What Nepos requires his readers to do, in order to grasp the exemplary lessons of these biographies fully, is to read for the exemplary framework more than for any one particular

exemplum. The reader who can successfully do so can therefore learn from both sides at once. Page 228 → The point also applies to Nepos himself and his selection of commanders. He has included in this book the Lives of those non-Roman commanders he finds distinguished, and he has shaped the contents of each biography to reflect the virtues of its subject and the lessons that the actions of that subject best allow him to teach. Different Lives therefore lead to different exemplary conclusions, and no one Life can be regarded as the definitive specimen of Nepos' exemplary program. Epaminondas provides a model for how to expand his city's tradition, while Agesilaus provides a model for how to respect the established limits of his city's tradition. Neither is inherently preferable, but each one is likely more useful for some readers in some contexts. Hence the varying utility of an example and the nonpartisanship that values the strengths of both sides at once do not make the whole project of exemplary biography morally relativist. On the contrary, Nepos' interest in identifying examples of moral virtue across a Mediterranean spectrum unites the collection. Both Epaminondas and Agesilaus are indifferent to wealth, quick-thinking in their strategy, and tireless in their commitment to advancing the good of their state. Such virtues, for Nepos, are not relative but widespread and enduring across cultures, and he can identify them and shape their presentation for his reader wherever he deems a particular example of them valuable. To learn from Nepos, therefore, requires the reader to accept his normative understanding of the moral virtues. Nepos' political perspective interacts with his moral perspective. In the Epaminondas and Pelopidas, he frames republican liberty favorably and tyranny unfavorably, and he presents liberty as fostering virtue and tyranny as corrupting it. In the Agesilaus, tyranny is simply absent, which perhaps acknowledges that nothing from the Spartan perspective alters the moral validity of the Theban perspective. Yet because patriotism on both sides is morally endorsed, Agesilaus is right to defend his city at the same time that Epaminondas is right to besiege it in order to liberate Greece. Liberation is itself politically endorsed, yet Epaminondas, for moral reasons, will not stain his hands with citizen blood, while Pelopidas will. Nepos praises Pelopidas' choice but does not criticize Epaminondas, just as he does not criticize Agesilaus for defending Sparta's tyranny. Nepos' political perspective is not relative, however, for there is no hedging behind his support for liberty over tyranny or for the prioritizing of the common good over the individual's. Epaminondas is exemplary for his ambitious preeminence, while Agesilaus is exemplary for his conservative obedience. Pelopidas will sacrifice clean hands to liberate his city, and Epaminondas will sacrifice the legality of his command to achieve its ultimate goal. Political exempla are thus less fixed Page 229 → than moral exempla, for they are applications of moral judgments whose exemplary value is determined by their context. Some political circumstances require the sacrifice of one virtue for the promotion of another, and these are the instances where the biographer has the most influence in shaping the reader's moral and political understanding. Yet because of the complexities of individual contexts, no one particular example can be a definitive answer to a moral or political problem. The proper understanding of the political application of moral virtues requires a gradual sifting of a great variety of examples, and that variety is just what Nepos' On Foreign Generals has to offer. Once the contemporary reader recognizes the relevance of the lives of these non-Roman commanders to the political turmoil of the last generations of the Roman Republic, the power of Nepos' invention of serial political biography can be both deeply felt and widely applied. The identity of such readers and the nature of their application of the exemplary lessons of On Foreign Generals will be the subjects of this book's conclusion. 1. Munn 1997 provides a source-based introduction to Thebes in the fourth century, as do Seager 1994: 156–86 and Roy 1994 for Thebes' rise and its hegemony. See further Cawkwell 1972; Buckler 1980 (reprised, with a wider context, at Buckler 2003: 197–350); Buck 1994: 61–122; Buckler and Beck 2008. The most significant extant ancient narrative of the era of Theban hegemony is book 15 of Diodorus (for which Stylianou 1998 provides extensive commentary; see 120–21 for the overview of the two great Thebans), supplemented by Plutarch (esp. the Pelopidas, for which see the commentary of Georgiadou 1997), Xenophon (though the Hellenica is very reticent to mention Epaminondas by name: see Cawkwell 1972: 255–57, yet compare Higgins 1977: 116–19), Paus. 9.13–15 (on which see Tuplin 1984 and Shipley

1997: 317–18), and Nepos. On these sources, see further Buckler 1980: 263–77. Plutarch's Epaminondas is no longer extant and sorely missed (see Georgiadou 1997: 6–8), though we do have an anecdotal collection of Epaminondas' famous dicta preserved in the Moralia as part of the Sayings of Kings and Commanders (192c–194c), many of which were presumably included in the lost Life. 2. Dionisotti 1988: 36–38 demonstrates that enthusiasm at Rome for classical Greek history seems to have developed only during Cicero's lifetime. Tuplin 2000: 150 (also 155–56) documents the prominence of Epaminondas among the Greek historical figures mentioned by Cicero. At De Orat. 3.139, e.g., he is called “perhaps the greatest single man in all of Greece” (haud scio an summum virum unum omnis Graeciae); at Tusc. 1.4, he is “the first man of Greece, in my judgment” (princeps meo iudicio Graeciae). 3. On the structure of the Epaminondas, see also Anselm 2004: 123–28. Tuplin 2000: 148–51 stresses that of all of Nepos' biographies, it is the closest to encomium (the observation originates with Leo 1901: 207–11, to whom J. R. Bradley 1991: 100–103 responds). Bradley 1991: 89–108 searches for Nepos' sources for the Epaminondas and argues that Nepos consulted Ephorus and likely Callisthenes and perhaps others. It is notable that Plutarch mentions most of Nepos' anecdotes, for the overlap suggests that Nepos worked from standard sources to which Plutarch also turned. The crucial conclusion that Bradley reaches is “that, instead of following an existing encomium, Nepos adapted the encomiastic features of his historical sources to his own use and made them the framework of his own life” (1991: 102). Nepos deserves, in other words, to be regarded as his own compiler, more than a copyist, which suggests that we can see his own interests and preoccupations in his arrangement of his selected material. It is therefore all the more significant that in his structuring of the Epaminondas, as Bradley 1991: 89 further remarks, “Nepos offers a schematic characterization in which specific virtues are singled out for praise and illustrated by appropriate exempla.” Nepos' methods as an exemplary author are thus especially clear in this biography, a further reason to make it the first of the Lives I here study in detail. 4. See further Beneker 2009: 114–15; Stem 2009: 127–28. 5. Compare, e.g., Paus. 9.13.3–12, which includes the judgment that Leuctra was the most renowned ( , 9.13.11; also 9.6.4) battle of all those involving Greeks versus Greeks. For other ancient accounts of Leuctra, see Xen., Hell. 6.4.1–26; Diod. 15.50–56; Plut., Pel. 20–23 and Ages. 28. For its military and political significance within Greek history, see Cawkwell 1972: 260–64; Buckler 1980: 46–69; Cartledge 1987: 236–41 (and 2002: 250–52); Hamilton 1991: 202–14; Tuplin 1993: 134–41; Seager 1994: 181–86; Munn 1997: 81–86; Georgiadou 1997: 172–79; Shipley 1997: 320–22; Stylianou 1998: 395–407; Buckler 2003: 288–95. For its role in Nepos' Epaminondas, see also Beneker 2009: 118–19 and my discussion below. 6. Further support of the idea that this thematic structure is Nepos' own comes from J. R. Bradley's conclusion that “no particular source or sources can be determined [for the first six modern chapters of Nepos' Epaminondas] although much of the context is recorded in one form or another by Plutarch” (1991: 89). 7. The status of Epaminondas as the most highly educated Theban is stressed in the ancient tradition (Georgiadou 1997: 73–74; Stylianou 1998: 330). Paus. 9.13.1, e.g., has the same series of points as Nepos, Epam. 2.1–2: although Epaminondas' family was not wealthy, he obtained the most rigorous education ( ), an education particularly connected with Lysis (see also Cic., De Orat. 3.139; Plut., On the Daimonion of Socrates 583b–c, 585f–586a). J. R. Bradley 1991: 104 n. 2 also notes Diod. 10.11.2, in which Lysis is described as having rendered Epaminondas a “perfect man with respect to virtue” ( ; note also Diod. 15.39.2–3). Having received this education, Diodorus continues, Epaminondas became “the first man, not only of Thebes, but of all the men in his generation” ( , 10.11.2). His education is thus connected to his future preeminence, just as in Nepos, Epam. 2.2, which suggests that Nepos' emphasis on Epaminondas' preeminence and the role that his education played in its development is by no means Nepos' own. What should be attributed to Nepos, however, is the decision to select this perspective as the unifying theme of the brief biography that he was assembling. 8. Epaminondas' independence of wealth is also stressed elsewhere in the tradition: see Plut., Pel. 3 (on which see Georgiadou 1997: 65–73), Sayings of Kings and Commanders 193b–c, and esp. On the Daimonion of Socrates 583d–585d, in which Plutarch has the character of Epaminondas engage in an extended, Socratic defense of poverty (on which see Nesselrath and Russell 2010: 91 n. 141). For the

interdependence of wealth and friendship in Epaminondas' Theban politics, see Buckler 1980: 133–35 and (as Plutarch idealized it) Georgiadou 1997: 75–80. 9. J. R. Bradley 1991: 90 and 104 notes that Plutarch not only relates a brief version of this story himself (Sayings of Kings and Commanders 193c) but also attributes a similar sentiment to the Spartans Agesilaus and Callicratidas (Sayings of Spartans 213d–e, 222e); hence it looks to have become a standard topos for the demonstration of patriotism in the fourth century. Nepos chose to elaborate it at length to the advantage of Epaminondas. 10. For the debate, see Geiger 1985b: 34–35; Moles 1989: 231–32; J. R. Bradley 1991: 3–7, 100–103; Tuplin 2000: 132–33; Anselm 2004: 47–50. 11. Yet note that even here, where Nepos claims to have so many examples on his side, he does not actually define the term “incorruptibility” (abstinentia) but lets its conventional meaning be reinforced through the anecdote itself. Nepos just assumes that readers of the anecdote will agree both that it proves Epaminondas' incorruptibility and that incorruptibility is an honorable trait. 12. Nepos makes the same claim at Alcib. 11.3: “all the Boeotians are more devoted to the strength of their body than to the sharpness of their mind” (omnes enim Boeotii magis firmitati corporis quam ingenii acumini inserviunt). 13. Plutarch also collected a list of Epaminondas' memorable lines (Sayings of Kings and Commanders 192c–194c). For Meneclides as Epaminondas' rival, see also Plut., Pel. 25.5–15, with Buckler 1980: 130–50 and Georgiadou 1997: 186–90. 14. Plutarch also relates this anecdote in On Inoffensive Self-Praise (542b–c), citing it as a winning example of a speaker who praises the audience while praising his own achievements: “Hence Epaminondas, when Menecleidas once mocked him for thinking that he was greater than Agamemnon, said, ‘Yet it is on account of you, men of Thebes, for with you alone I dissolved the empire of the Lacedaemonians in one day’” ( ). J. R. Bradley 1991: 91–92, who quotes this parallel, argues that “Nepos' version forsakes all tribute to the Thebans” and thus that “the immodesty of Epaminondas' reply…renders it an inappropriate refutation of the charge.” I would counter that Bradley overlooks the force of una urbe nostra at Epam. 5.6, but I would agree that Nepos has less emphasis on the Thebans as a whole. Nepos also changes the focus away from the dissolution of Spartan power, as in Plutarch, to the liberation of Greece from it (totam Graeciam Lacedaemoniis fugatis liberavi). 15. Plutarch also reports this retort, though without including Alcmaeon, at Sayings of Kings and Commanders 193c–d and Political Precepts 810f. Diod. 15.38.3 seems to report a different confrontation between Epaminondas and Callistratus (see Stylianou 1998: 321–28). 16. For other accounts of Epaminondas' words at the Spartan Congress, see Plut., Ages. 27.5–28.4 and Paus. 9.13.2; compare Xen., Hell. 6.3.19. For historical context, see Cawkwell 1972: 264–65; Buckler 1980: 48–54; Cartledge 1987: 307 (and 2002: 250); Hamilton 1991: 199–202; Seager 1994: 181; Shipley 1997: 310–15; Stylianou 1998: 384–85. 17. J. R. Bradley 1991: 92 comments that “in the interest of an effective conclusion [Nepos] exaggerates beyond all credibility,” but Cawkwell 1972: 264 argues directly to the contrary (note also Hamilton 1991: 201). Yet even if Nepos is guilty of exaggeration and simplification, such inclinations are the price of Nepos' biographical brevity (as also, e.g., with Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, discussed in chapter 1). He wishes to focus his reader's concentration on an event's exemplary significance, and he is willing to sacrifice strict historicity to do so. 18. “Envy” is a simple and not entirely satisfactory translation for the Latin concept of invidia. At root, invidia is a sense of ill will fueled by envy, spite, or indignation, and its nuance changes according to the thought process of the individual who generates it. See Kaster 2005: 84–103 for the full range of feeling invidia involves, as well as the process of perception and evaluation that leads to the emotional response. 19. The historical setting was the mission to rescue Pelopidas from Alexander of Pherae in 368/7 BCE, as we learn from Diodorus (15.71.2–72.2), Pausanias (9.15.1–2), and Plutarch (Pel. 28–29, Table Talk 680b, and Whether an Elderly Man Should Engage in Politics 797a–b). For context, see Buckler 1980: 119–29, 245–49; Roy 1994: 194–96; Georgiadou 1997: 199–205; Stylianou 1998: 451, 466–70. J. R. Bradley 1991: 93–94 argues that Nepos' source(s) here should be identified as Callisthenes and/or Ephorus (who himself used Callisthenes: Barber 1935: 131–33; Westlake 1939: 16–21; Georgiadou 1997: 18; Stylianou 1998:

104–5). Comparison to Diodorus suggests that Nepos has drawn very selectively from his source, for what I judge to be rhetorical effect. 20. This campaign occurred in 370/69, initiated over a year after the Theban victory at Leuctra (for context, see Buckler 1980: 70–90; Hamilton 1991: 219–31; Roy 1994: 189–91; Georgiadou 1997: 179–86; Shipley 1997: 336–49; Stylianou 1998: 423–45; Cartledge 2002: 253–55). The events of this anecdote are also related at Plut., Pel. 24.1–25.4 (and Sayings of Kings and Commanders 194a–c, On Inoffensive Self-Praise 540d–e, and Political Precepts 799e–f and 817f; see Buckler 1978 for perceptive analysis of these differing Plutarchan contexts); App., Syr. 212–18; and Paus. 9.14.4–7. J. R. Bradley 1991: 94–97 compares the accounts and finds that Nepos and Plutarch and Appian all seem to have used the same or very similar sources (Callisthenes and/or Ephorus). 21. Nepos is explicit that the command of Epaminondas and Pelopidas had been officially abrogated and their successors elected (imperium iis esset abrogatum atque in eorum locum alii praetores successissent, 7.3). App., Syr. 213–14, also speaks of their recall ( ) and their successors ( ;), yet Plutarch never does. Buckler 1978: 39–40 (note also J. R. Bradley 1991: 95) argues that the discrepancy means that they followed a different source from Plutarch (and that Appian did not use Plutarch's lost Epaminondas), one that confused Theban practice with Roman practice. Without attempting to explain Appian, I would argue instead that such an elision of Greek institutions into Roman (e.g., the boiotarchos into the praetor, with attendant constitutional requirements) is consistent with Nepos' practice elsewhere in On Foreign Generals as part of his exemplary purpose (see chapter 4 in the present study). Hence Buckler is right that Nepos' version is not a genuinely historical variant within the tradition of these events, but the modification does not come from a confused source. It results instead from Nepos' own practice of amalgamating all republican institutions into Roman forms. 22. I translate “but he held his command” for et…gessit imperium because of the apparent contrast with the preceding negative verb noluit. A similar issue occurs in 7.2, though the contrasting negative there comes in an adjective and not in the verb: nullam adhibuit memoriam contumeliae et exercitum obsidione liberatum domum reduxit. 23. Nepos' statement of Epaminondas' motivations is not found elsewhere in the tradition regarding this anecdote, which perhaps suggests it is his own expansion, intensifying the moral and political dilemma Epaminondas faced while providing a favorable justification for his action. Paus. 9.14.5, by contrast, says only that Epaminondas disregarded the law as inopportune ( ). Buckler 1978: 40 and 1980: 75–76, 138–42 offers an attractive explanation that elucidates Pausanias' characterization. Buckler, who has no specific ancient evidence to support him, argues from reasoned probability that the Boeotians had no constitutional means for the prorogation of a command (i.e., as the Romans did: see Livy 8.23.12, with Oakley 1997–2005: 2.658–61), for the Thebans had never before been involved in a winter campaign away from Boeotia that extended from the official year of one boiotarchos to another. Hence Epaminondas could claim that his retention of his command, although technically unconstitutional, was ultimately ambiguous because he was pursuing what the Thebans had commissioned him to do. Political necessity, as well as Epaminondas' awareness of the sudden opportunity to strike at Sparta itself, made it too disruptive to suspend his Peloponnesian campaign for the sake of constitutional niceties back home, and thus he could deem the law “inopportune” and persuade his colleagues in office to worry about resolving the constitutional question after they had completed the campaign. As Buckler 1980: 140 presents the law, “it had been drafted as a deterrent to the boiotarchos who might use his position and authority to make himself a tyrant. It was not, however, intended to prevent a boiotarchos from fulfilling a task that had been assigned to him.” But in practice, as I think Nepos recognized, the line between these two conditions can become blurred, hence he focused in particular on this episode for its exemplary potential. 24. Cic., Inv. 1.55–56 and 68–70, attests that the trial of Epaminondas and the larger questions it invoked were familiar topics in the rhetorical schools of his youth. Nepos might therefore have expected readers to be familiar with the exemplary status of this episode. After pointing to these Ciceronian passages, Dionisotti 1988: 43 argues that in Nepos' treatment, “a paradigm case of a general's disobedience to political authority is turned into an example of submission to it.” 25. On the historical issues surrounding this trial, see Cawkwell 1972: 266–67, 276–78; Buckler 1980: 75–76, 138–45; Georgiadou 1997: 184–86; Stylianou 1998: 448, 468–70. 26. Epam. 8.1: nemo Epaminondam responsurum putabat, quod quid diceret non haberet. J. R. Bradley

1991: 96 finds, in comparison to the other sources, that Nepos “exaggerates the helplessness of Epaminondas,” for Plutarch suggests that Pelopidas was at greater risk of conviction (Pel. 25.3 and On Inoffensive Self-Praise 540d–e; note also App., Syr. 215). Yet such an exaggeration makes his subsequent unanimous acquittal all the more remarkable and, thus, is the sort of modification one might expect Nepos to employ in order to sharpen the exemplary power of the anecdote (for Plutarch's sharpening, see Georgiadou 1992: 4233–35). 27. Other versions of Epaminondas' speech in his defense can be found at Plut., Sayings of Kings and Commanders 194b, and App., Syr. 216–17. The latter is closer to Nepos, with Epam. 8.2 reporting closely but obliquely what Appian put into direct speech at Syr. 216, yet Nepos is the most rhetorical of the three extant versions (see J. R. Bradley 1991: 97). 28. For Livy's skill at suggesting exemplarity through the reaction of an internal audience, see Chaplin 2000: 50–53. J. R. Bradley 1991: 97 notes that Nepos, in describing the jury's reaction, includes both the amusement noted by Plutarch (Sayings of Kings and Commanders 194b–c and On Inoffensive Self-Praise 540e) and the reproach (“not any judge dared”) emphasized by Appian (Syr. 218). 29. Appian, Syr. 213, refers to slander ( ); Plut., Pel. 25.1, refers to envy ( ; note also the further efforts of Meneclides detailed at Pel. 25.5–15), as does Diod. 15.72.2. For historical context, see Buckler 1980: 142–50; Georgiadou 1997: 184; Stylianou 1998: 469. 30. Scipio Africanus' resistance to such public accountability demonstrates a very different yet still potentially exemplary response (see App., Syr. 205–18, for a direct comparison of the attitudes of Scipio and Epaminondas). Gellius 4.18, e.g., reports two anecdotes as “examples of his enormous self-confidence and preeminence” (exempla eius fiduciae atque exuperantiae ingentis, 4.18.2). In the first, he disrupts his trial by reminding his audience that the day was the anniversary of his victory at Zama, after which he leads the crowd to the Capitoline to offer thanks to Jupiter. In the second, he tears up his account books in the Senate when he is asked to submit them. This chapter in Gellius is in fact attributed to Nepos' Exempla (Marshall fr. 11), yet Gellius never mentions Nepos and claims in his chapter heading that the anecdotes were taken “from annals” (ex annalibus, as Briscoe 2008: 170 also stresses; compare Malcovati 1964: 181, who regards the attribution to Nepos as paene certum, “almost certain”). Hence I am skeptical that the perspective of these anecdotes is Nepotian, but if it is, then Scipio's attitude of superiority to public accountability represents a different sort of exemplum of preeminence, one that does not prioritize submission to legal and/or republican authority. A further anecdote about Scipio (though its focus is primarily Tiberius Gracchus, his subsequent son-in-law) related by Gellius 6.19 is more plausibly (but still only plausibly) attributed to Nepos (Marshall fr. 13; note also Malcovati 1964: 183–84), since it is said to have been recorded in an Exempla (6.19.1, yet the chapter heading again claims ex annalibus), then rebutted at the end of the chapter with a contradictory version attributed to Valerias Antias (6.19.8). The contradictory evidence for the trials of the Scipios is a notorious crux in Livy 38.50.4–60.10 (note also Polyb. 23.14), against which Gellius' evidence is often compared: for an introduction to the problems, see Scullard 1973: 290–303; Jaeger 1997: 132–76; Briscoe 2008: 170–79. 31. Appian makes this argument explicit and has Epaminondas list as the final entry on his requested sepulchral inscription that “this man was done away with by his country because he broke the law to the advantage of his country” ( , Syr. 217). Nepos, by comparison, makes this point implicitly yet clearly desires it to be felt. Cic., Inv. 1.69, elaborates the argument as a hypothetical rhetorical exemplum. 32. Had the Peloponnesian campaign failed under Epaminondas' leadership, it seems much more likely that he would have been executed for his civil disobedience once back in Thebes, since Thebes would not have had its clear demonstration of its hegemonic status as the civic reward for Epaminondas' leadership. 33. Plut., Pel. 25.4, characterizes Epaminondas' attitude in similar terms: “Epaminondas gently bore the attempt to abuse him, believing that forbearance in politics was a great part of manliness and magnanimity” ( ). The overlap suggests that both Nepos and Plutarch found such a judgment in their source(s) but that Nepos extracted it as a structural heading for his exempla while Plutarch embedded it (or left it embedded) in the anecdote. 34. For the Battle of Mantinea in 362 BCE, see Diod. 15.84.3–87.6; Xen., Hell. 7.5.18–27; Plut., Ages. 35.1–2; Paus. 8.11.5–10, 9.15.5 (with Tuplin 1984: 356); Polyb. 9.8.2–12 (as contextualized by Buckler

1980: 205–19; Dillery 1995: 17–22; Shipley 1997: 370–72; and Stylianou 1998: 512–19). Plutarch attributes the Spartan focus on Epaminondas at Mantinea to the strategy of Agesilaus himself (Sayings of Spartans 214c–d). The details in Nepos' account are similar to those in Diod. 15.87, which suggests Ephorus (once again) as a common source (J. R. Bradley 1991: 98). Epaminondas (and especially his death scene) was a well-established exemplum in the Roman tradition: note Cic., ad fam. 5.12.5 and Fin. 2.97 (with Tuplin 2000: 150, 155–56); Val. Max. 3.2.ext 5. 35. Nepos' final judgment of Epaminondas' significance is similar to that of Diod. 15.88.4 (J. R. Bradley 1991: 99–100; note also Din. 1.72–73, Polyb. 6.43, Diod. 15.79.2, and Paus. 8.11.9), again suggesting that Nepos' central theme is not original to him, only its centrality. For the justice of this final judgment, see Cawkwell 1972: 274–75; Buckler 1980: 220–27. 36. See further Beneker 2009: 118–19. The link between this anecdote (10.1–2) and the previous one (9.1–4) likely results from the tradition (e.g., Diod. 15.87.6) that reports Epaminondas claiming Leuctra and Mantinea as his daughters in his dying words (J. R. Bradley 1991: 99; Tuplin 2000: 149). Plut., Pel. 3.7–8 has a more favorable judgment of Pelopidas' marriage but reports that he was criticized for not paying enough attention to his private estate. 37. As part of Nepos' scheme of culturally eliding non-Roman things into Roman forms, he often, as here, presents the cities of Greece as united under the influence of one city and, thus, more comparable to Italy's unification under Rome (see also, e.g., Milt. 3.3, 6.3; Them. 5.3, 7.6, 9.4; Ages. 5.2–4). Yet this nationalist tendency may well reflect the tenor of Nepos' sources. Against the Persians, for example, the cities of Greece liked to define themselves as united Greeks (see, e.g., Shipley 1997: 41–46). The claim that Epaminondas liberated all Greece from Spartan tyranny likewise seems to reflect his own desired conception of his legacy. Pausanias quotes the inscription on Epaminondas' statue at Thebes, and his greatest achievement is said to be that “by my counsels…all Greece has been crowned autonomous in freedom” ( , 9.15.6). Diodorus structures his history of the period 386–61 BCE around the theme of the Spartans receiving rightful punishment for their mistreatment of Greece (Book 15: 1.1–5, 5, 9.4–5, 12, 19–20, 23.3–5, 25, etc.), which Dillery 1995: 129–30, 223–25 and Stylianou 1998: 101–3, 112–21 argue derives from the fourth-century view of Ephorus (whence Nepos may have absorbed it). On Ephorus' moralizing tendencies, see further Pownall 2004: 113–42, esp. 131–32 on the Theban hegemony. 38. Dionisotti 1988: 45 comments: “Only Nepos records such an abstention by Epaminondas. Recording, of course, is not the same as espousing…. But the question was one facing every thinking person. It was not for Nepos, much less for us, to pass glib judgment.” In her first claim, she is mistaken, for Plutarch elaborates on Epaminondas' principled refusal to participate in On the Daimonion of Socrates 576d–577a and 594b–c (note also Pel. 5.4 and 7.5, with Georgiadou 1997: 95 and 105). Given that the concluding narrative of that essay (594f–598f; see Cawkwell 2010: 101–3 for its legitimate historical value) resembles the narrative of the same events in Plutarch's Pelopidas (8–12) and the many fewer details in Nepos' Pelopidas (2–3; see J. R. Bradley 1991: 109–20 for source criticism), it looks likely that Nepos' report at Epam. 10.3 came directly from his source. But in Dionisotti's subsequent claim, that the judgment of Epaminondas' choice by Nepos (or, implicitly, his triumviral Roman readers) would have been far from glib, she anticipates the modern scholarly debate about Plutarch's judgment of Epaminondas' quietism (see Georgiadou 1996 and 1997: 39–43; Brenk 2002; Nesselrath and Russell 2010: 4–5; Pelling 2010). 39. This is one among many considerations that argues for the closeness of these two Lives within On Foreign Generals. The point is as old as Leo 1901: 209 but is still being valuably explored by Manuwald 2003 and Anselm 2004: 128–30. Hence Nepos' Pelopidas should be regarded as more than just “a very brief and sketchy supplement” to his Epaminondas, as is claimed by Westlake 1939: 11 and repeated by J. R. Bradley 1991: 109 and Georgiadou 1997: 37–39. Georgiadou 1997: 11–12, by comparison, argues that Plutarch's Pelopidas is “as close to a political treatise as a Plutarchean biography can be,” and here she identifies in the biography's political thought an interpretive approach that I believe is also valid for Nepos. 40. Pelopidas is mentioned only occasionally in Diod. 15 (39.2, 50.6, 62.4, 67.3–4, 71.2, 75.2, 80.1–81.4); hence the major ancient account of his life and deeds is Plutarch's Pelopidas (see Georgiadou 1997 for a full commentary) and, for the narrative of Thebes' liberation from Sparta, his essay On the Daimonion of Socrates (see Nesselrath and Russell 2010). For Plutarch's Theban bias, see Buckler 1980: 270–72; Georgiadou 1992 and 1997: 8–12. Xenophon's Spartan presentation of the same events in his Hellenica

(e.g., 5.4 on Thebes' liberation) offers greater context, as well as some additional detail, but is neither favorable to nor interested in the Theban perspective (see Buckler 1980: 263–68; Gray 1989: 65–70, 107–12; Tuplin 1993: 147–57; yet note how this consensus is challenged, in part, by Sterling 2004). 41. Pel. 1.1: Pelopidas Thebanus, magis historicis quam vulgo notus. cuius de virtutibus dubito quem ad modum exponam, quod vereor, si res explicare incipiam, ne non vitam eius enarrare, sed historiam videar scribere: si tantummodo summas attigero, ne rudibus Graecarum litterarum minus dilucide appareat, quantus fuerit ille vir. itaque utrique rei occuram, quantum potuero, et medebor cum satietati tum ignorantiae lectorum. See further the discussion of this passage in the first section of chapter 4 in the present study, as well as the conclusions of J. R. Bradley 1991: 117 and Georgiadou 1997: 12–14. 42. Another indication of the quantity of available evidence regarding Pelopidas as compared to Epaminondas, noted by Westlake 1939: 12 n. 1 and Georgiadou 1992: 4224 n. 6, is that Plutarch, in his Sayings of Kings and Commanders, collects twenty-four of Epaminondas' dicta (192c–194c) but only six from Pelopidas (194c–e). Yet Plutarch was able to write a Pelopidas of reasonable length (over forty Teubner pages; the Agesilaus, by comparison, is only ten pages longer for a figure with a much longer and more prominent career), so sufficient evidence was likely available to Nepos, had he chosen to draw on it. As Tuplin 2000: 136–38 argues, “it follows that he did not wish to do this.” This conclusion becomes stronger when J. R. Bradley 1991: 109–20 demonstrates that Nepos' account rarely differs from that of Plutarch's Pelopidas, which suggests that Nepos and Plutarch drew from similar sources (Callisthenes and Ephorus, as Bradley also argued for the Epaminondas: note further Westlake 1939: 18–21; Georgiadou 1997: 15–28; Cawkwell 2010: 102). Hence Nepos' biography could have had as many anecdotes and details as Plutarch's, but he chose to abbreviate severely and emphasize Pelopidas' position as second to Epaminondas (see Pel. 4.1–3). The point to be stressed, once again, is that Nepos himself should be recognized as the framer of each of his biographies. 43. The translation of the last sentence in the passage is taken from the Loeb edition (Rolfe 1929: 557 = 1984: 191). 44. Pelopidas led the charge of the Sacred Band (Diod. 15.81.2) that Plutarch also claims was crucial to Theban victory at Leuctra (Pel. 23; note also 18.1–20.3). 45. Buckler 1980: 111 suggests that Pelopidas' eclipse was recognized almost immediately: after the Peloponnesian campaign of 370/69, “Pelopidas would always stand in his friend's shadow. Surely it is significant that the two men never again served together in the same theater.” For Nepos' claims as compared to the rest of the extant ancient historical tradition, see J. R. Bradley 1991: 114–15 (and 119), and note especially a comparable summary passage at Diod. 15.81.1–4 (with Stylianou 1998: 500–501). Perhaps the most notable omission from Nepos' summary of Pelopidas' career is his victory against the Spartans at Tegyra (in 375 BCE: for the context, see Hamilton 1991: 186–87; Stylianou 1998: 318–19; Buckler and Beck 2008: 99–110), which Plutarch characterizes as a significant prelude to the subsequent Theban victory at Leuctra, and for which Pelopidas had no support from Epaminondas (Pel. 16–17 and Ages. 27.4; Diod. 15.37, 15.81.2; see further Georgiadou 1997: 142–53). Contrary to the judgment of Westlake 1939: 15–16 (see also Georgiadou 1997: 12–14), I find that Plutarch's Pelopidas rather successfully keeps the focus on Pelopidas throughout, although the Life proper does begin by comparing the choices and circumstances of his early years to those of Epaminondas (Pel. 3–4). That passage does its best to regard them as equal but different, and for Plutarch, the most distinguishing feature of their comparison is the fact that they worked so well together for the benefit of Thebes (Pel. 4.1–4; see Georgiadou 1997: 11–12, 32–37, 65–80). Yet even here, where Plutarch notes the goodwill and honor that Pelopidas directed toward Epaminondas ( , 4.3), he does not explicitly describe its reciprocation, which suggests that Plutarch, like Nepos, regarded Pelopidas as impressive for how he was second to Epaminondas (see further Georgiadou 1992: 4225–35). 46. Tuplin 2000: 138 observes that the Epaminondas is “utterly unlike narrative history,” while the Pelopidas incorporates “a sizeable piece of text which looks just like narrative history. This cannot be accidental, and surely shows that it is Nepos, not a hypothetical direct source, who is in control of the eventual appearance of his Lives.” A much longer version of Nepos' liberation narrative occurs in Plut., Pel. 5–13 and On the Daimonion of Socrates 594a–598f. Both of Plutarch's narrative accounts are similar (see Buck 1994: 72, 148 n. 47; Cawkwell 2010: 102), and Nepos' basic agreement with them suggests that he drew on the same sources (J. R. Bradley 1991: 109–20; Stylianou 1998: 231). Diodorus also offers a brief

account at 15.25 (though he places it one year late chronologically), while Xen., Hell. 5.4.1–12, is notable for its complete omission of the name of Pelopidas (compare Diod. 15.81.1). For further observations on the comparison of the sources, see Buck 1994: 72–78; Dillery 1995: 221–27; Georgiadou 1997: 83–132; Brenk 2002: 102–6; Pownall 2004: 68–69. 47. See Tuplin 2000: 137. In Plutarch, by comparison, the narrative climaxes with Pelopidas' dramatic individual combat against Leontiades (Pel. 11.5–10; On the Daimonion of Socrates 597d–f). For the emphasis on Pelopidas, see Georgiadou 1997: 120–22. 48. According to Xen., Hell. 5.2.32, the Spartan assembly at which their control of Thebes was debated was guided by King Agesilaus' overtly callous appeal to the best interests of Sparta (see also Plut., Ages. 23.6–7, with Shipley 1997: 279–81, as well as Higgins 1977: 106–8 and Cartledge 1987: 13). It is impossible to determine if Nepos had read of this appeal or only imagined it (Dionisotti 1988: 42 argues for the latter). 49. The motivations behind the Spartan seizure of the Cadmea in 382 BCE are variously represented in our sources: compare Plut., Pel. 5–6 and Ages. 23.6–24.2; Diod. 15.20; Xen., Hell. 5.2.25–36; Polyb. 4.27.4. For collective assessments, see J. R. Bradley 1991: 109–10; Tuplin 1993: 96–100; Buck 1994: 61–69; Seager 1994: 156–61; Dillery 1995: 214–21; Georgiadou 1997: 85–100; Shipley 1997: 279–84; Stylianou 1998: 221–24; Buckler 2003: 197–205; Buckler and Beck 2008: 71–78; Cawkwell 2010: 103–9. Dionisotti 1988: 42, after surveying the ancient tradition, convincingly argues that Nepos regards Phoebidas' error as his decision to act on his own authority, an emphasis that is part of Nepos' larger series of contrasts between the proper deferral to constitutional authority and the improper spark of private initiative. 50. For the favorable relations of Athenians and Thebans in exile in 404/3 and 379/8, see Munn 1997: 69, 76–77; Georgiadou 1997: 98–99; Buckler and Beck 2008: 33–43; Nesselrath and Russell 2010: 82 n. 10. For Pelopidas' activities in Athens, see Plut., Pel. 7.1–3 (with Georgiadou 1997: 100–103). 51. Plut., Pel. 13.5–7 offers the same reasoning (and the larger arc of his Agesilaus enforces it), and Cawkwell 2010: 101 still connects events in largely the same way. Even Xenophon's Hellenica, centered on Sparta, hints that the Theban expulsion of the Spartans in 379 was the justified beginning of a larger retaliation that fought against Spartan abuses of power and sanctioned the Spartan defeat at Leuctra: see Hell. 5.4.1 and 6.4.3, with Gray 1989: 179–81; Tuplin 1993: 96–168; Dillery 1995: 164–237; Pownall 2004: 89–90. Georgiadou 1997: 131–32 further notes that Plutarch offers as a concluding reflection what Nepos emphasizes as an introduction and that Plutarch explicitly compares Pelopidas' exploits to Thrasybulus' against the Thirty in Athens in 404/3, whereas Nepos includes no parallel at all. 52. Similar details and their foresight are also reported in our other extant accounts of the plot: Plut., Pel. 8.1–3, 9.1–4 and On the Daimonion of Socrates 576c, 577c–d, 588b, 594c–e; Xen., Hell. 5.4.3–6 (for discrepancies, see J. R. Bradley 1991: 111–12; Georgiadou 1997: 106–13). 53. See the discussion of this passage in chapter 4. J. R. Bradley 1991: 113 remarks that the only difference between the accounts of Nepos and Plutarch at this point is “the strong epideictic tone adopted by Nepos.” Georgiadou 1997: 116–17 notes the potentially parallel significance of an unread letter at Plut., Caesar 65.1–4 (see further Pelling 2010: 119). 54. Nepos, Pel. 3.3: “in crastinum” inquit “differo res severas”; Plut., Pel. 10.9: “ ” (at 10.10, he comments that the phrase is still regarded with proverbial status); On the Daimonion of Socrates 596f: “ .” 55. Plutarch explains much more fully how the tyrants were killed and what Pelopidas' specific role within the action was (Pel. 11 and On the Daimonion of Socrates 596c–597f; compare Xen., Hell. 5.4.5–7, and see Georgiadou 1997: 117–22). 56. The narrative of the aftermath has been drastically simplified: compare Plut., Pel. 12–15 and On the Daimonion of Socrates 598; Xen., Hell. 5.4; Diod. 15.25–35 (with Stylianou 1998: 135–36, 231–36). For analysis of the liberation's completion and its ripple effects, see Buckler 1980: 15–48; Hamilton 1991: 156–95; Buck 1994: 78–114; Seager 1994: 164–76; Dillery 1995: 227–37; Munn 1997: 76–81; Georgiadou 1997: 122–42; Buckler 2003: 212–70. 57. Pel. 4.1: Hoc tam turbido tempore, sicut supra docuimus, Epaminondas, quoad cum civibus dimicatum est, domi quietus fuit. itaque haec liberatarum Thebarum propria laus est Pelopidae. 58. Hence I disagree with Dionisotti 1988: 45, who claims that it “was not for Nepos, much less for us, to pass glib judgment,” and my disagreement functions as an example of how she finds Nepos to be a descriptive moralizer whereas I find him to be a protreptic one (for the distinction, see Pelling 2002:

237–51). Nepos contextualizes the different choices of Epaminondas and Pelopidas carefully, and he openly compares them against one another at Pel. 4.1. Hence he is not being glib when he declares that Pelopidas' choice—and his alone—merits praise (propria laus est Pelopidae). J. R. Bradley 1991: 114 also finds that Pel. 4.1 is to Epaminondas' “disadvantage and to the enhancement of Pelopidas' success.” 59. Gray 1989: 170–75, by comparison, sees Epaminondas' bad luck as the dominant theme of Xenophon's account of the Battle of Mantinea (Hell. 7.5; on which see also Tuplin 1993: 156–57 and Pownall 2004: 92–94, 109–10). 60. Nepos' historical compression is again severe: his Pel. 5 summarizes the whole of Plut., Pel. 26–35 (though the embassy to the Persian king described in Plut., Pel. 30, is mentioned in passing in Nepos, Pel. 4.3; compare Xen., Hell. 7.1.33–37, which has the only mention of Pelopidas in the whole of that work). For the result, see (with Georgiadou 1997: 190–226) J. R. Bradley 1991: 115–17, and compare also Paus. 9.15.1–2 and Diod. 15.71.2–72.2, 75.2, 80.1–81.4, with Stylianou 1998. For historical context, see Buckler 1980: 110–29, 151–60, 175–82; Munn 1997: 86–87, 90–92. 61. Plutarch, by comparison, is explicitly critical of the rashness of Pelopidas' death (Pel. 1–2, 32.9 and Syn. Pel. Marc. 3; yet note Georgiadou 1992: 4250–52). Diodorus appears more favorable, claiming that Pelopidas lost his life heroically ( , 15.80.5), but Stylianou 1998: 16 documents how this seems little more than a stock phrase to Diodorus (who says, at 15.79.2, that Epaminondas died in the same way). 62. For the same emphasis in Plutarch's Pelopidas, see Georgiadou 1992: 4235–42 and note Cic., Off. 2.25. 63. Cartledge 2002: 228–58 provides a concise introduction to the Sparta of Agesilaus, who is a wellstudied but controversial figure: compare Cawkwell 1976; Cartledge 1987; Hamilton 1991. Ancient evidence is also relatively abundant, including, not least, Plutarch's Agesilaus (on which see the excellent study of Shipley 1997, esp. 46–55 on sources) and, primarily, the firsthand testimony of Xenophon in his Agesilaus and Hellenica. For the indeterminable chronological relationship of those two works, see Henry 1967: 107–33; Cartledge 1987: 55–56; Tuplin 1993: 29–31, 193–200; Dillery 1995: 114–19. For Xenophon's purposes within his Spartan perspective on events, see Momigliano 1971: 50–51; Anderson 1974: 146–71; Higgins 1977: 76–82, 99–127; Cawkwell 1979; Hirsch 1985: 39–60; Cartledge 1987: 416–17; Tuplin 1993 (esp. 163–68); Dillery 1995 (esp. 241–54); Shipley 1997: 248–49; Pownall 2004: 65–112; Gray 2007: 1–19. On the nature and reliability of the ancient tradition regarding Agesilaus, see Cartledge 1987: 55–73; Millender 2009: 18–22. 64. Nepos' thematic emphases are also the result of his choice of Xenophon's Agesilaus as his primary source (see next note). Since Xenophon's Agesilaus is extant, Nepos' biography provides an excellent opportunity for the source critic to study his working method, both what he includes and what he passes over. Some of the most significant characterizing claims in Nepos' biography are taken directly from Xenophon (e.g., 4.2 derives from Xen., Ages. 1.36, as discussed in chapter 4 of the present study; other examples will be discussed in subsequent notes), and it is thereby apparent that Nepos' analysis is not original to him. Yet there is much in Xenophon's Agesilaus that Nepos omits or neglects, and what is significant about Nepos' use of Xenophon is thus not that he used him directly but how he used him. Examining what he chose to lift from Xenophon reveals what he felt were the most significant pieces of evidence for his own exemplary purposes. As with the Epaminondas and Pelopidas, Nepos deserves to be recognized as the designer of the Agesilaus, singling out well-known aspects from the established sources available to him and emphasizing his selected aspects as the defining insights into his subject's character (see further Anselm 2004: 131–5). Nepos' choice of Xenophon's openly encomiastic Agesilaus as the primary source for his own Agesilaus does limit the range of his characterization significantly, but Nepos demonstrably supplemented Xenophon's characterization with evidence from other sources (see next note). Thus he knew of the wider tradition about Agesilaus that is reflected, e.g., in Plutarch's Agesilaus (see Hamilton 1992: 4205–8), and he could have selected a different source to be his primary one if he had wished. His privileging of Xenophon's Agesilaus therefore reflects his decision that his own authorial interests were best advanced by following Xenophon's characterization (for which Higgins 1977: 76–82 is apt). 65. Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 159–71 fill their notes with the Xenophontic parallels, which are also recognized by Leo 1901: 211–12. J. R. Bradley 1991: 121–36 reviews the evidence and establishes that Nepos structured his biography chronologically with excerpts from the opening narrative of Xenophon's Agesilaus (1–2); supplemented that narrative with additional information drawn from the work's later,

thematic sections (Ages. 3–11; on which see further Pownall 2004: 33–35) as well as from another source (perhaps Ephorus, if the overlap in content with Diodorus can be regarded as demonstration of the use of a common source); and then turned for his final anecdote to Theopompus (whom Athenaeus cites for the same story). These conclusions again support Bradley's thesis that Nepos' fundamental sources were historians. Where Nepos had a preexisting source focused on the life of his subject (e.g., Xenophon's Agesilaus), he would seize it, but even then he would also supplement from larger historical works surveying the relevant period. Yet note also the more agnostic Tuplin 2000: 144–45. 66. A relevant parallel is how Nepos notes his friendship with his subject at Att. 13.7, where he invokes his familiarity to bolster the credibility of his evidence but also reveals that he is playing the role of the laudatory friend. 67. Nepos also invokes Socrates favorably at Alcib. 2, as well as Plato at Dion 2–3. Cicero's corpus confirms that Xenophon's writings, including his picture of Socrates, were well known. Cicero also refers to Xenophon as Socraticus (De Orat. 2.58; Off. 2.87; Tusc. 2.62; Div. 1.52) and regards him as a morally valuable writer (see, e.g., ad fam. 5.12.7; ad Quint. 1.1.23, 1.2.7; Rawson 1985: 45; Horsfall 1989: 10; J. R. Bradley 1991: 122; Tuplin 1993: 27–28). Pointing to Diogenes Laertius 2.48–59, Krentz 1995: 3 observes that “ancient critics saw Xenophon as a philosopher who also wrote history.” Dillery 1995: 236 likewise notes, “A ‘Socratic’ historian, Xenophon fixed his gaze on the moral condition of individuals and states.” 68. Agesilaus was already in middle age, having come to maturity during the Peloponnesian War, yet neither Nepos nor Plutarch has much to say about his first forty years. For contextualizations of the first half of Agesilaus' long life, see Cartledge 1987: 3–4, 20–54; Hamilton 1991: 12–26. 69. Xenophon, of course, does not have to explain the Spartan dyarchy, since his audience would already be familiar with it (for its uniqueness, see Millender 2009). He waxes instead on the unbroken line and proven leadership of the Spartan Heraclids (Ages. 1.2–4). Nepos' account of the Spartan kingship is too basic to be traceable, but it is notable (with J. R. Bradley 1991: 133 n. 3) that he presents Eurysthenes and Procles as the twin founders of the two lines of the kingship (as they appear in the lists at Herodotus 7.204 and 8.131), rather than referring to their successors Agis and Eurypon, for whom the Agiad and Eurypontid dynasties are conventionally named (possibly because Agis and Eurypon were the first to rule jointly: see further Cartledge 1987: 22–23, 99–111 and 2002: 89–92, 293–98). So Nepos must have had some direct evidence for Spartan king lists (which would also have been relevant to his research for the Chronica) and presumably also some understanding of the limited constitutional power of the Spartan kings. Here he says that Spartan kings were rulers more in name than in power (nomine magis quam imperio, Ages. 1.2), but he does not explain how their power was limited or who held power superior to theirs. He noted earlier in On Foreign Generals that the ephors held supreme power (summum imperium) at Sparta (Them. 7.2), but since it is important for the reader to remember the ephors' power at Ages. 4.1–3, it is somewhat surprising that he does not repeat the point more fully here. 70. See, e.g., Nepos, Lys. 1.3–5 and 3.1–5. 71. By comparison, Xenophon (Hell. 3.3.1–4), Plutarch (Ages. 3; Lys. 22.6–13; Alcib. 23.7–9), and Pausanias (3.8.7–10) explain the disputed succession more fully (see further Hamilton 1979: 121–24 and 1991: 26–29; Cartledge 1987: 110–15; Tuplin 1993: 52–53; Krentz 1995: 176–78; Shipley 1997: 79–96). Since Leotychides was perceived to be the illegitimate son of Alcibiades, Agis would not acknowledge him, but Leotychides' supplications of Agis in his dying days were at last successful. Yet Lysander, who had been Agesilaus' lover in younger years (Plut., Ages. 2.1 and Lys. 22.6; note Cartledge 1987: 29), reanimated the claims of Leotychides' illegitimacy and successfully supported Agesilaus, even in the teeth of an oracle that warned Sparta of a “lame kingship” ( ). Agesilaus was himself physically lame (Plut., Ages. 2.3; Nepos, Ages. 8.1), but Lysander was persuasive that the lameness to which the oracle more metaphorically referred was the illegitimacy of Leotychides. Nepos chose to suppress many of these details, perhaps from disinterest or prudishness regarding sexual politics (note his judgment of Alcibiades' love affairs at Alcib. 2.2–3), even at the price of rendering his account unsatisfyingly inchoate. In Xenophon's openly laudatory Agesilaus, likewise, there is silence instead of the succession debate related in the Hellenica, yet Xenophon does there claim that the polis of Sparta judged Agesilaus “to be more unimpeachable both in birth and in virtue” ( Ages. 1.5). Hence this is a clear case where Nepos chose not to follow Xenophon's direct praise, and yet Nepos' own exemplary purpose was overcome by other considerations, with the result that his reader does not have

the means to discern why Agesilaus deserved to become king. (I am not convinced by the argument of Shipley 1997: 91–92 that Nepos' description of Leotychidas as the son of Agis implies that he accepted Leotychidas' legitimacy. He is, rather, simply reporting the purported relationship before he brings up the disputed issue of Leotychidas' legitimacy.) 72. Compare Xen., Ages. 1.6–8 (with J. R. Bradley 1991: 123–24), which contains all that Nepos says here (and more) but does not mention the leading role of Lysander documented by Xenophon at Hell. 3.4.2–3 (so also Plut., Ages. 6.1–5, on which see Shipley 1997: 117–19; note further Hell. 3.4.7–10—seen from different perspectives by Proietti 1987: 89–101 and Gray 1989: 46–49—and Plut., Ages. 7–8, with Cartledge 1987: 151–53 and Shipley 1997: 128–42). The emphasis solely on Agesilaus in this narrative confirms that Nepos' invocation of Xenophon at the opening of his Agesilaus is limited to Xenophon's Agesilaus and does not extend to the Hellenica (see, e.g., Cartledge 1987: 78 for Xenophon's different presentation of Lysander in the two works). Nepos nowhere acknowledges the Hellenica, nor can any direct evidence of it be detected in On Foreign Generals (or in the Ciceronian corpus: see Tuplin 1993: 22 n. 33). Except for the Agesilaus, as Tuplin 2000: 144 notes, “anyone can observe…that it is not the Xenophontic tradition which is on show” in Nepos' biographies of fourth-century figures. 73. The same basic emphasis animates Xen., Ages. 1.6–37, Nepos' primary source for this narrative. A fuller Xenophontic narrative, different in emphasis from that of the Agesilaus, also appears at Hell. 3.4 and 4.1 (on which see Tuplin 1993: 56–60; Dillery 1995: 99–119; Krentz 1995: 181–94, 203–10—though Pownall 2004: 83–84 is also right to stress the thematic similarities). For historical context, see Hamilton 1979: 128–34, 182–208; Cartledge 1987: 208–18; Hamilton 1991: 91–103; Hornblower 1994: 68–72; Buckler 2003: 58–69, 85. 74. This conclusion reads like Nepos' summary of Xen., Ages. 1.35. 75. Xenophon's interest in the strategic implications of Agesilaus' initial cavalry deficit is evident: see Ages. 1.15, 23–24, 30–32; 2.2–5 (and Hell. 3.4.12–15 and 4.3.3–9, as well as Plut. Ages. 9.5–6). Nepos' lack of interest is also evident through his silence about these passages. 76. The stress on Agesilaus' quickness, here and throughout, seems a Nepotian emphasis, for it is not prevalent in Xenophon. 77. The detail that the truce was of three months' duration derives from Xen., Ages. 1.10 (and is not in the Hellenica: note J. R. Bradley 1991: 123), strong evidence that the passage was Nepos' source. The moral and exemplary tone of Nepos in Ages. 2.3–5 also reflects the same emphases of Xen., Ages. 1.10–13 (and Hell. 3.4.5–6, 11): compare in particular the explanation attributed to Agesilaus in Nepos 2.5 with Xen. 1.12–13. 78. Nepos' source in 3.1–2 remains Xenophon (Ages. 1.15–16), who, however, concludes his narrative of Agesilaus' first Persian campaign season by noting that once the truce had expired, Agesilaus showed Tissaphernes to be “a child at deceit” ( , 1.17). Nepos omits this judgment, just as he also omits the subsequent story in Xenophon about how Agesilaus made his friends a lot of money with insider information about his movements (1.17–19). Emphasis on Agesilaus' skills at deception may have seemed unscrupulous to Nepos (Plutarch, by comparison, endorses Xenophon's view: see Ages. 9.3–4, with Shipley 1997: 38–41 and 146–50), yet he also omits Xenophon's anecdotes about Agesilaus' gentleness (1.20–22). The latter anecdotes have favorable exemplary value, but Nepos' choice to pass over them suggests either his general need for brevity or his specific choice to limit his exemplary framing of Agesilaus to only a few templates. 79. Nepos' passage is clearly based on Xen., Ages. 1.25–27 (see J. R. Bradley 1991: 124), though he actually reduces Xenophon's rhetoric of exemplarity (see also Hell. 3.4.16–18, with Krentz 1995: 188–89; Hiero 9.5–7, with Gray 2007: 139). Anderson 1974: 152–54 contextualizes the need for such training in Agesilaus' particular circumstances, while Dillery 1995: 27–30 emphasizes the thematic significance of good order for Xenophon. 80. Nepos' source for this passage is difficult to determine (see J. R. Bradley 1991: 124–27). What can be said is that Nepos turned away from Xenophon's Agesilaus, for he relates a version of the Sardis campaign different from Ages. 1.28–34 (and Hell. 3.4.20–24). Nepos shares some details with Hellenica Oxyrhynchia, fr. 14 (in Chambers 1993) and Diod. 14.80.1–4 but is not unambiguously derived from either (or both, following the reasoning of Bruce 1967: 20–22 that Diodorus is Ephorus and that Ephorus used the Oxyrhynchus historian). Nepos actually seems closest to Plutarch (Ages. 10.1–4; he knows Xenophon's

account), where Tissaphernes' culpability for his tardiness is also noted (10.1–2); see further Shipley 1997: 156–60. For my purposes, resolving the competing traditions and their relationship (on which see Bruce 1967: 77–85, 150–56; Cartledge 1987: 215–16; McKechnie and Kern 1988: 141–47; Dillery 1995: 109–14; Krentz 1995: 188–91; Shipley 1997: 165–69) is not as important as noting that Nepos, even when following one primary source (i.e., Xenophon's Agesilaus), still compares other sources and occasionally supplements his primary source. 81. Xen., Ages. 1.36, sets the context in the same way and is likely the primary source for Nepos, Ages. 4.1–2, though Xenophon's claims for Agesilaus' ultimate ambition are somewhat more vague (see further Hell 3.5.1, 4.1.41–2.2; Plut., Ages. 15.1; Tuplin 1993: 56, 60–61; Hornblower 1994: 68–69; Shipley 1997: 202). 82. Plutarch, by comparison, thematically attributes Agesilaus' success as a Spartan king to the fact that, as his father's younger son, he had undergone the rigorous Spartan system of education (the , from which the firstborn sons of kings were exempt) and thus came to command fully educated in how to obey ( , Ages. 1.4; see further Shipley 1997: 59–67, and note also Xen., Ages. 6.4, and Plutarch's response at Ages. 4). Agesilaus' obedience to the ephors on this occasion thus also marks the zenith (note Shipley 1997: 206–7) of Plutarch's biography: “no greater or better deed was performed by Agesilaus than this act of returning, nor has a nobler example of righteous obedience ever occurred” ( , Ages. 15.5). Hence both Plutarch and Nepos decided to follow the judgment of Xenophon (Ages. 1.36) and emphasize this moment in Agesilaus' biography as the explicitly exemplary action (exemplum, Nepos 4.2; , Plut. 15.5) that thematically represents the moral and political achievement of his life. The intensity of both biographers' contexts reveals how striking Agesilaus' exemplary obedience seemed to them and, thus, how conspicuous it was within the ancient tradition. 83. Xen., Ages. 1.36 opens with a different but equally exemplary formulation: “It is worthy that this man be exceedingly admired at this point also” ( ). As J. R. Bradley 1991: 127 comments, “the encomiastic tone of Xenophon's account is preserved, but in a distinctively Roman formulation.” For the role of such visual metaphors of exemplarity in Livy, see Feldherr 1998: 1–50. 84. Agesilaus here has “the greatest confidence” (maximam fiduciam) but notably not excessive confidence (nimia fiducia), of which the drunken tyrants of Thebes are the exemplum at Pel. 3.1. 85. As discussed in chapter 4, Xen., Ages. 1.36 ( , “He obeyed his city-state in no way differently than if he happened to have been standing alone in the Ephoreium before the five”), is clearly the direct source for Nepos, Ages. 4.2 (tanta modestia dicto audiens fuit iussis absentium magistratuum, ut si privatus in comitio esset Spartae, “He was obedient to the orders of the absent magistrates with such restraint that it was as if he had been in the comitium at Sparta as a private citizen”). Cultural modifications are made, but the exemplary content is meant to be identical. (For the political relationship between Spartan kings and ephors, note esp. Xen., Lac. 15.6–7, with Cartledge 1987: 106–9 and 125–29, and see Shipley 1997: 101–5 on Plut., Ages. 4.2–6.) 86. The emphasis is even stronger in Xen., Ages. 1.36, where, after a string of participles contextualizing Agesilaus in his position of strength, Xenophon says, “nevertheless he was swayed by none of these considerations” ( ). At Hell. 4.2.3, by comparison, Xenophon acknowledges that Agesilaus initially found it difficult to be deprived of his hopes but nevertheless accepted that it was necessary for him to go home (see further Tuplin 1993: 59–60, 67–68; Dillery 1995: 114–19). Plutarch, like Nepos, not only works closely with the account of Xenophon's Agesilaus (and ignores the version in the Hellenica) but also adds his own personal outburst to it: see Ages. 15, with Shipley 1997: 200–210. 87. Nepos, Ages. 4.3: Agesilaus opulentissimo regno praeposuit bonam existimationem multoque gloriosius duxit, si institutis patriae paruisset, quam si bello superasset Asiam. In the final part of Ages. 1.36, Xenophon explains Agesilaus' action in terms of his choice of honorable over shameful profit ( ), and Nepos incorporates that idea but combines it with the sentiment of Xen., Ages. 2.16: “Agesilaus departed for home, having made the choice to rule and be ruled at home according to the laws rather than to be the greatest man in Asia” ( ). Xenophon includes this comment after his account of Agesilaus' victory at the Battle of Coronea (in 394 BCE), but Nepos

recognized that it framed the story of Agesilaus' return from Asia and so he united the two Xenophontic ideas into one more emphatic statement. Hence Nepos is indeed cutting and pasting the words of his primary source, but he is doing so deliberately, so that the emphasis that he desires is achieved. 88. Nepos copied these figures directly from Xen., Ages. 2.1 (they are absent, by comparison, from Hell. 4.2.8). Nepos says at Them. 5.2, however, that the journey took Xerxes six months, while Herodotus (8.51) says the march took four months and the return only forty-five days (8.115). As discussed in chapter 1 of the present study, this inconsistency is evidence of Nepos' historical carelessness. He found it acceptable to repeat Xenophon in his Agesilaus without coordinating this claim with what he had reported in his Themistocles. 89. For the history of the Corinthian War (395–387 BCE), see Hamilton 1979: 210–325; Cartledge 1987: 360–68; Seager 1994: 97–119; Buckler 2003: 75–183. For a focus on Agesilaus' activities within the war, see Cartledge 1987: 218–26; Hamilton 1991: 103–19. 90. This emphasis is again drawn directly from Xenophon, who relates this anecdote at Ages. 2.13 (and Hell. 4.3.20). Nepos has supplemented his version of that anecdote (at 4.6) with further remarks about Agesilaus' piety (at 4.7–8) that are repeated from Xen., Ages. 11.1. Hence Nepos has excerpted a claim from the later, thematic sections of Xenophon's Agesilaus and incorporated it into his selections from the opening narrative of that work. Even while working within his primary source, he manipulates it. Moreover, as J. R. Bradley 1991: 135 n. 17 notes, Xenophon nowhere reveals that the temple in question is one to Minerva (Athena), whereas Plutarch (Ages. 19.2) contextualizes it fully (yet does not emphasize Agesilaus' action the way that Nepos does: see Shipley 1997: 237). Thus it looks like Nepos knew the story from more than one source and combined another account with Xenophon's before adding in the further thematic comments from Xen., Ages. 11.1. Nepos' claim, e.g., that Agesilaus was “angry at all those who had taken up arms on the other side” (iratus videbatur omnibus, qui adversus arma tulerant, Ages. 4.6) is (unsurprisingly) not found in Xenophon's Agesilaus and presumably reflects the language of Nepos' secondary source (or is his own addition). The methodological observation to make, therefore, is that despite all that Xenophon has to say about the military actions of this battle (see Ages. 2.6–16 and Hell. 4.3.15–21, including the claim at Ages. 2.9 that the battle was like no other in Xenophon's time), Agesilaus' retention of his sense of religious scruple is what Nepos identified as its most significant aspect, and so the biographer passed over the rest but gathered notes from different places to confirm the validity of that one aspect. Plutarch (Ages. 18–19), by comparison, awards the battle itself the significance Xenophon does, though with different emphases (see Shipley 1997: 226–40). 91. Nepos' source for Agesilaus' attitude again seems to be Xenophon's Agesilaus (7.5), but he either misunderstood or deliberately simplified the historical context. The battle described is that at the Nemea River (or at Corinth: note Tuplin 1993: 65 n. 3), which occurred some weeks before the Battle of Coronea, while Agesilaus was still marching from Persia to Greece (see Xen., Hell. 4.2.9–3.1; Diod. 14.83.1–3; Plut., Ages. 16). Hence Agesilaus was not the commander of the Spartan forces there, as Nepos says he was (Agesilao duce, 5.2). J. R. Bradley 1991: 128 assumes that Nepos was confused. He plausibly reconstructs why, demonstrating that Nepos chose to skip Xenophon's narrative treatment of Agesilaus' involvement in the Corinthian War (Ages. 2.17–20) but to focus instead on two anecdotes from later in the work that Xenophon sets at Corinth (Ages. 7.5–6, the apparent source for Nepos in 5.2–3). Since Agesilaus is clearly in command for the second of those anecdotes, then Nepos assumed he was in the first one also (which would also provide further evidence that Nepos was not cross-checking Xenophon's Hellenica). Yet Nepos' report of Agesilaus' words (5.2) differs significantly from Xenophon's (7.5), and thus I would add to Bradley's argument the possibility that Nepos was not confused but chose to alter his source and put Agesilaus in charge so that his moral recognition of his involvement in the death of ten thousand Greeks could then be reflected in his verbal reaction to the news of the number of casualties. Bradley (135 n. 19) also notes that Nepos, Ages. 5.1 resembles Diod. 14.86.6, which perhaps hints that Nepos had also consulted Ephorus for these events and, thus, that the rest of his chapter 5 may not be entirely Xenophontic. 92. Xenophon produces Agesilaus' direct speech and has him say: “Woe to you, Hellas, since those who now have died were enough, had they lived, to be victorious in battle against all the barbarians” ( , Ages. 7.5). Given how Xenophon's two anecdotes at Ages. 7.5–6 appear in similarly connected fashion in Nepos, Ages. 5.2–3, it is compelling to accept that Xenophon is Nepos' direct source here. Yet Nepos reports Agesilaus obliquely

and has him say “that he lamented the fortune of Greece, because, through the fault of his opponents, so many men, defeated by him, had fallen: with that multitude, in fact, if sound minds had prevailed, the Persians could have been punished by Greece” (Ages. 5.2). Nepos thus has Agesilaus blame his opponents for the loss of life and accuse them of lacking sound minds, while nothing like this appears in Xenophon. Plutarch, by comparison, produces his own direct version of Agesilaus' exclamation (Ages. 16.6), and while he stays closer to Xenophon than Nepos does (see further Shipley 1997: 217), he assigns Greece itself the responsibility for the dead. That Nepos focuses instead on the justificatory rhetoric of civil war suggests that civil war is a much more animating topic for Nepos than for Xenophon or Plutarch. It reveals Nepos' hand in shaping Xenophon's anecdote into an exemplum of strong sentiment against civil war. 93. This anecdote is not included in Xenophon's Hellenica (or in Plutarch's Agesilaus) but is presumed (Nipperdey and Witte 1913: 166–67; J. R. Bradley 1991: 128) to have occurred during Agesilaus' campaigns around Corinth in 391 (see Xen., Hell. 4.4.19 and Ages. 2.17; Diod. 14.97.5) or 390 (see Hell. 4.5): see further Hamilton 1979: 280–86; Cartledge 1987: 222–26; Buckler 2003: 116–21. In Xenophon's Agesilaus, this anecdote is linked with Nepos' previous one (Xen. 7.5–6, as also in Nepos 5.2–3) and so suggests Nepos' primary source. As in the previous anecdote, however, the words attributed to Agesilaus by Xenophon and Nepos are quite different in their focus. Xenophon writes, “[H]e was not willing to attack, saying that cities of Greece should not be enslaved but chastened. ‘We must realize,’ he said, ‘that if we obliterate those among us who have made mistakes, we will not have anyone with whom we will prevail over the barbarians.’” ( , Ages. 7.6). Nepos, by comparison, rewrites but retains the distinction between enslaving or chastening Greek cities, yet he focuses it more on Agesilaus' character and adds Agesilaus' claim that besieging the city would not be “consistent with his virtue” (negavit id suae virtuti convenire; compare Xen., Ages. 7.3). Nepos also has Agesilaus end his speech with the threat that their enemies will oppress them once they have exhausted themselves, which takes the argument one step farther than that of Xenophon's Agesilaus. The threat, which intensifies Nepos' argument that civil war undermines national strength, is best explicable as another demonstration of Nepos' willingness to direct the evidence of his sources toward his own exemplary concerns. This example again suggests, as I see it, that Nepos is a protreptic moralizer more than a descriptive one. 94. It is true that the text of 6.1 is awkward, and a lacuna has been suspected. Perhaps only a few words are missing, enough to explain the motivation for the quo ne profisceretur clause. But it is conceivable that a whole sentence of transition (or more) has been lost. Even so, for Nepos to use “meanwhile” (interim) as a transition to mark the passing of two decades is historically misleading. Xenophon is perhaps responsible (J. R. Bradley 1991: 128–29), since he himself moves through the 380s and 370s very quickly in his own narrative of Ages. 2.20–23 and then refers in passing to “when the (unfortunate) event at Leuctra occurred” ( , Ages. 2.23), which Nepos appears to have rendered as “in the mean time that well-known disaster at Leuctra occurred to the Lacedaemonians” (interim accidit illa calamitas apud Leuctra Lacedaemoniis, Ages. 6.1). Since Nepos' reader has presumably finished the Epaminondas only pages earlier, the significance of Leuctra is indeed well known. 95. The idea may be Nepos' own (compare Atticus' experiences with divinatio in Att. 9–10, with Stem 2005: 122–26), but J. R. Bradley 1991: 129 suggestively notes a passage in Diodorus in which Agesilaus' cautiousness in a fight against the Thebans in 378 BCE is said to have been initially criticized but subsequently regarded as prophetic of the later defeat at Leuctra (15.33.1–3). Diodorus and Nepos could well have each drawn this idea from Ephorus. Xenophon reports, more prosaically, that Agesilaus was ill (Hell. 6.4.18). 96. Nepos' source for this claim is hard to find (i.e., it is not in Xenophon), and it may be his own elaboration. J. R. Bradley 1991: 129 notes that “Nepos' point of departure” is a phrase in Xen., Ages. 2.24 ( , “nevertheless he protected the city, and he did this although it was unwalled”), but the details of the story have no clearly identifiable source. At Iph. 2.5, moreover, Nepos credits Iphicrates with saving the city from the Theban attack. For historical context, see Buckler 1980: 83; Tuplin 1993: 142. 97. Ages. 6.2: nam cum quidam adulescenti hostium adventu perterriti ad Thebanos transfugere vellent et locum extra urbem editum cepissent, Agesilaus, qui perniciosissimum fore videret, si animadversum esset

quemquam ad hostis transfugere conari, cum suis eo venit atque, ut si bono animo fecissent, laudavit consilium eorum, quod eum locum occupassent: id se quoque fieri debere animadvertisse. 98. Plut., Ages. 32.6–9, tells a version of this story that is different in a few details (see Shipley 1997: 345–46) but has the same setting (the Peloponnesian invasion of 370/69). Xenophon nowhere includes this anecdote; thus Nepos must have found it elsewhere and chosen to include it as the one place where the events of the Epaminondas intersect those of the Agesilaus. 99. Ages. 7.2: nam cum praecipue Lacedaemonii indigerent pecunia, ille omnibus, qui a rege defecerant, praesidio fuit: a quibus magna donatus pecunia patriam sublevavit. Nepos, Ages. 7.1–2, seems to be summarizing Xen., Ages. 2.25–27, though note also Xen., Ages. 7.1. Plutarch, by comparison, reveals a contrary tradition that criticized Agesilaus' mercenary activities (see Ages. 36.1–5, with Shipley 1997: 377–80), and he will go on to condemn Agesilaus' conduct in Egypt in strong terms (Ages. 37.10–11). See further Cartledge 1987: 314–30; Millender 2006. 100. The placing of the discussion of private virtues near the end of the Agesilaus is the opposite structure from the Epaminondas, where the private virtues (sections 1–3) introduce their public testing (sections 4–9). This structure for the Agesilaus is perhaps due to Nepos' choice of Xenophon's Agesilaus as his primary source, since the first half of Xenophon's work forms a narrative, while its second half surveys individual themes. Nepos interspersed his excerpts from the second half of Xenophon's work into his excerpts from the first half, but he still left the overall assessment of private virtues of character to the end. The anecdote he relates here at 7.3–4 is clearly drawn from Xen., Ages. 8.6–7 (with 8.5, perhaps, as the bridge passage in Nepos' mind: so J. R. Bradley 1991: 130), and especially notable is the way that Nepos even retains, somewhat clumsily, Xenophon's transition. Compare Xen., Ages. 8.6 ( , “Who would not admire this about him?”), to Nepos, Ages. 7.3 (atque in hoc illud in primis fuit admirabile, “and this was especially admirable in this man”). Plut., Ages. 19.5–7, handles the transition better when he also draws on the same passage of Xenophon, whom he names as his source (see further Shipley 1997: 241–42). 101. For the historical context, see Cartledge 1987: 200–202, 325–27. 102. Nepos stresses Epaminondas' comparable attitude toward wealth at Epam. 3.4–4.6. Xenophon further elaborates on Agesilaus' propriety about money in Ages. 4, but Nepos did not choose to excerpt any of the examples listed there. 103. Xen., Ages. 2.28–31, gives an account of this expedition (on which see further Cartledge 1987: 328–29; Hamilton 1991: 252–57; Millender 2006: 255–56) and specifically says at its start that Agesilaus was around eighty years old. Thus Nepos may have started from Xenophon's passage, but the anecdote he relates is not in Xenophon. Plutarch tells the very anecdote Nepos does (Ages. 36.7–10, plus Agesilaus' age at 36.3; see also Sayings of Spartans 210c and 214d–e, with Shipley 1997: 214), and so it seems likely that Nepos turned from Xenophon to a different source. Plutarch does not name his source here, but Athenaeus refers to this anecdote three different times and, in each case, identifies its source as Theopompus (14.657b–c is the fullest version; note also 9.384a and 15.676c–d). J. R. Bradley 1991: 130–31 observes that the detail of the crowns in Nepos, Ages. 8.4, is not included in Plutarch but is specifically discussed at Athenaeus 15.676c–d and attributed to Theopompus, thereby confirming that Theopompus was Nepos' source. See further Shipley 1997: 375–83. For Theopompus' moralizing approach to history, see (with Nepos, Alcib. 11.1, and Plut., Lys. 30.2) M. A. Flower 1994: 63–97 (esp. 73–76 on Agesilaus), and compare Pownall 2004: 143–75, 180. Plut., Ages. 10.10, cites Theopompus for the assertion that Agesilaus “was by common consent both the greatest and the most renowned man of his time” ( ). 104. In keeping with his gastronomical context (though note Pelling 2000: 173), Athenaeus says that Theopompus' account “exhibits the mastery of the Laconians over their stomach” ( , 14.657b), while Plut., Ages. 36.10, says that the Egyptians wondered at Agesilaus' strangeness ( ) in accepting the gifts he did, which also reflects the point that Nepos extracts from the anecdote and thus suggests that the emphasis might go back to Theopompus. At Sayings of Spartans 214d–e, Plutarch claims that Agesilaus came into the Egyptians' contempt ( ) for his simple manner of dress but then proved his virtue to them (see also Sayings of Spartans 210c). 105. See Beneker 2009: 113–14. Plutarch, by contrast, comments on Agesilaus' lameness and physical

appearance at the beginning of his biography (Ages. 2.3–6: see further Hamilton 1991: 12–17 and 1992: 4210–11; Shipley 1997: 73–79). Plutarch's emphases are different from Nepos', however, and it is not clear what source Nepos might have been following here, if indeed he needed one at all. Once he had selected the anecdote of Theopompus to function as the capstone of his biography, it is entirely possible, even likely, that he would have written the transition to it that captured his desired emphasis. 106. J. R. Bradley 1991: 131 argues that Nepos' closing (8.6–7) derives from Ephorus, since Plut., Ages. 40.2–4, preserves the same information (more fully) and since Diod. 15.93.6 also draws on it. But Diodorus misses the detail that Agesilaus' companions were lacking in honey (note Cartledge 1987: 334; Stylianou 1998: 548), which casts doubt on the assumption that he and Plutarch are sharing the same source. On Agesilaus' funerary rites, see further Cartledge 1987: 331–43. 107. Higgins 1977: 77 similarly summarizes the theme of Xenophon's encomium: “Xenophon thus sees in Agesilaos a man defined by city and family, who is inevitably imbued with a sense of limit, the sense that his actions are directed by other than his own desires and aimed at something besides his own satisfaction. As Xenophon remarks later, nothing Agesilaos did failed to reveal that he was a lover of his city” (7.1). 108. All of these aspects of Agesilaus' characterization are also strongly Xenophontic (see Gray 2007: 3–14 for Xenophon's political thought overall, and see Higgins 1977: 76–82 and Hirsch 1985: 45–49 for Xenophon's selective narrative focus within the Agesilaus), and to a certain degree, they result from Nepos' choice of Xenophon's Agesilaus as his primary source. In the conclusion to his study of Nepos' sources, J. R. Bradley 1991: 163 comments that in the Lives he has studied, “the praise and blame assigned individuals or their actions—even when accentuated by Nepos—is consistent with the manner and judgement of the ‘primary’ sources that have been employed.” Yet it should also be pointed out that Bradley has shown Nepos to have consulted Theopompus and likely Ephorus regarding Agesilaus; hence his decision to follow Xenophon primarily is not a necessity but a choice. Xenophon's strong advocacy for proper piety and obedience to authority appealed to Nepos' own exemplary judgments and drew Nepos to adopt Xenophon's perspective. Moreover, Xenophon offers exemplary anecdotes about several aspects of Agesilaus (Ages. 3–11), yet Nepos excerpted primarily from those relating to piety and patriotism (including Agesilaus' purported Panhellenism, on which see Cartledge 1987: 191–94). Hence Nepos is selective even from the author that he has chosen as his primary source, which suggests that Nepos is ultimately the one in control of the contents of his biographies, for the way he excerpts from his sources reflects the way he shares their sentiments. Cartledge, by comparison, although admirably holistic as a historian of Sparta, is nevertheless shortsighted about Nepos' setting and approach when he describes Nepos as “simply a hack compiler wholly dependent on other people's written productions” (1987: 70) and when he claims that Nepos' Agesilaus “is so heavily dependent on Xenophon's Agesilaos as to be of no interest as a reflection of current perceptions” (1987: 418). Surely the opposite is true: Nepos' choice of Xenophontic excerpts was fundamentally shaped by—and is especially revealing of—“current perceptions” of the exemplary value of Agesilaus to a triumviral Roman audience.

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Conclusion: Readership and Relevance Nepos' Lives is a work so well adapted to the wants of young readers that it might almost have been written expressly for pedagogic use. Even its defects lend it a certain merit, when considered as a schoolbook. If the biographies are for the most part scrappy and superficial, it is because they were addressed to an unlearned public by a writer himself uncritical and simple-minded. The above quotation begins Isaac Flagg's school commentary on Nepos, published in 1895. It codifies the critical view of Nepos that developed during the nineteenth century, and its assumptions are likely still quietly held today by the majority of scholars. I have written this book to challenge this conventional wisdom, for its basic assumptions are long out of date. Although Nepos was once read as a sloppy epitomator of existing Greek biographical works, clumsy in style and incapable of having a thought of his own, such a view now deserves to be discarded, along with its scholarly prejudices (e.g., that variations from Ciceronian Latin are deviations or that biography is a lesser—because less historically accurate—genre than history). It is incautious to assert that a writer to whom Catullus dedicated a collection of his poems was “simple-minded,” just as it is hazardous to assume that a researcher who can be shown to have thematically selected his evidence from established historians is “uncritical.” In fact, there is sufficient evidence for Nepos' interactions with his literary contemporaries to place him among them rather than beneath them, and his programmatic statements as a biographer are not inconsistent with those of Plutarch. It is time to credit Nepos for his innovation rather than despair of his execution. Flagg's quotation also reveals itself as a product of its time in the way that it so openly associates Nepos' brief compass and moralizing tone with Page 231 → a pedagogy appropriate for “young readers.”1 There is no evidence for any such ancient pedagogical context for Nepos' work, yet the perception lingers.2 Pedagogical tastes have changed (who now teaches On Foreign Generals?), but the bias against “schoolboy authors”—as if what is appropriate for young readers is necessarily too simple for more advanced minds—has undoubtedly contributed to Nepos' scholarly neglect. Flagg supports the notion that Nepos' most appropriate readers are young ones by claiming, as an implicit parallel, that Nepos' original readers were members of “an unlearned public.” It is true that Nepos opens his Preface to On Foreign Generals by anticipating that “very many” (plerosque) readers, namely, those who are “unacquainted with Greek literature” (litterarum Graecarum expertes, 1–2), will be critical of his approach. When he begins the Pelopidas, likewise, he worries aloud that readers “unfamiliar with Greek literature” (rudibus Graecarum litterarum, 1.1) will not perceive from his short Life how great a man Pelopidas was. Hence Nepos does conceive of On Foreign Generals in the hands of a relatively unlearned audience, but it is wrong to assume that he imagined all his readers to be unfamiliar with Greek thought (plerosque is not omnes).3 He does not discourage more learned readers when he utilizes his Preface to disparage those who insist that only their own mores are correct, and his rhetoric of disparagement even provides cover for the kind of reader for whom the work seems most suited, namely, the Roman with claims to status whose education has made him aware of the shape of Greek history but by no means proficient in it.4 Such a reader would be educated enough to regard himself as above those “unacquainted with Greek literature,” yet he Page 232 → would in fact further his knowledge of Greece by comparing Greek and Roman commanders in the circumscribed and exemplary way that Nepos' brief biographies promote. Internal evidence scattered throughout On Foreign Generals bolsters this conception of its readership, for Nepos does not consistently assume an audience ignorant of Greek things. It is true, for example, that he explains that a medimnus of wheat at Athens is the equivalent of six modii at Rome (seni modii tritici darentur, qui modus mensurae medimnus Athenis appellatur, Att. 2.6). Nepos likewise glosses “the potsherd vote, which they call ostracism” (testarum suffragiis, quod illi vocant, Cimon 3.1), yet he does so only after he has already referred to it without a gloss twice before (testularum suffragiis, Them. 8.1; testula illa, Arist. 1.2). As for Spartan customs, Nepos refers to the “staff on which [a message] had been written in their custom” (clava…in qua more illorum erat scriptum, Paus. 3.4), but he nowhere explains how the scytale actually functioned. The Battle of Leuctra is described simply as “that disaster for the Lacedaemonians” (illa calamitas apud Leuctram Lacedaemoniis, Ages. 6.1), and Nepos' inclusion of the demonstrative illa (also used when describing ostracism as

illa testula at Arist. 1.2) implies that he is referring to something he regards as already so well known that he does not need to describe it with further precision. A reader entirely ignorant of Greece is thus not the imagined audience for these passages. More subtle is Nepos' casual claim that Iphicrates moram Lacedaemoniorum interfecit (Iph. 2.3), for here mora is not the Latin word meaning “delay” but the transliterated Greek , meaning “a regiment of Spartan infantry.” The Greekless reader is likely enough to understand that Iphicrates “killed [some group] of the Lacedaemonians,” but the passage is nevertheless evidence that Nepos is not always concerned to write for such a reader. Rather, the Roman reader who already knows something (but not necessarily all that much) about Greek history seems the appropriate reader of On Foreign Generals.5 A relevant parallel is the readership of Cicero's philosophical works, whom Cicero portrays as Romans interested in Greek philosophy yet not so familiar with the subject that they would not benefit from his Latin rendering of essential arguments.6 Cicero grants history an even stronger claim on Page 233 → such readers when he has Marcus Piso, the main speaker of the fifth book of De Finibus, claim that “men of the humblest fortune, with no hope of involvement in public life—artisans, even—delight in history” (homines infima fortuna, nulla spe rerum gerendarum, opifices denique delectantur historia, 5.52).7 Earlier in that same book, moreover, after the dialogue's cast of characters has expressed their enthusiasm for visiting historical sites in Greece (Fin. 5.4–5), Piso reminds Cicero's cousin Lucius of the value of studying the past (5.6): Tum Piso: “Atqui, Cicero,” inquit, “ista studia, si ad imitandos summos viros spectant, ingeniosorum sunt: sin tantum modo ad indicia veteris memoriae cognoscenda, curiosorum. te autem hortamur omnes, currentem quidem ut spero, ut eos quos novisse vis, imitari etiam velis.” [Then Piso said: “Well now, Cicero, those studies of yours, if they are intended to prompt the imitation of great men, are suitable for men of genuine ability, but if they are intended merely to acquire information about olden times, then they are suitable for men who are curious. We all urge you—already well on your way, I hope—to wish also to imitate those about whom you wish to learn.”] Knowledge of Greek history for its own sake is presented as dilettantism, befitting only the idly curious. Cicero's De Finibus (like Nepos' On Foreign Generals) is thus not claiming that its wisdom is directed toward the most learned few. Its intended audience, rather, are men of genuine ability (ingeniosi)—that is, men of ambition among the Roman ruling class—who are to study the Greeks as exempla. Great men (summi viri, as in Nepos, Pref. 1) are to be studied so that they can be imitated: the perceived utility of such imitation justifies the study inherent to its pursuit. In this passage, as elsewhere in the prefaces to Cicero's philosophical works, one also hears a hint of defensiveness, as though he anticipates, just as Nepos does in his Preface, that some readers' pro-Roman bias will make them reluctant to regard Greeks as appropriate models for Romans to imitate. Both authors assume that not all their readers will share their zeal in utilizing Greek thought to instruct a Roman audience, even as both exude confidence Page 234 → that all readers can realize its utility if only they look for its moral and political wisdom without undue cultural bias. Cicero displays the same attitude before juries composed of senatorial and equestrian peers, and he is even more cautious about advocating Greek exempla in these public contexts than in the more private settings of his dialogues. The point is often made, therefore, that Cicero regarded the Roman ruling class as sufficiently unfamiliar with Greece that, in public, he had to modulate the depth of his own Greek learning.8 The men who sat on those juries, accordingly, can be regarded as middlebrow in terms of their Greek learning, despite their membership among Rome's political elite. A notable gap seems to exist between their familiarity with the exercise of power and their unfamiliarity with the salutary relevance of the Greek past for such exercise. The Lives of Nepos' On Foreign Generals provide a direct means to fill that gap. They almost exclusively contain brief moral and political exempla, and their exemplary moments are shaped to be relevant to fundamental issues of republican leadership and command. Cicero utilizes the prefaces to his philosophical works to position them as sources of ethical principles for political men, but their reader, in practice, has to be willing to sift through numerous technical details of Greek philosophical thought in order to gain applicable kernels of wisdom. Nepos'

On Foreign Generals, by comparison, suggests historical parallels in succinct exemplary form. The brevity and overt moralizing of Nepos' political biography are thus the very things that make possible its appeal to a wide audience—a more middlebrow audience, admittedly, one that could realistically include the entire breadth of the Roman political class. For a representative example of how Nepos leads his reader to an understanding of the relevance of Greek history to Roman politics, let me return to the honor awarded to Miltiades for his victorious leadership at Marathon (Milt. 6.1–4): Cuius victoriae non alienum videtur quale praemium Miltiadi sit tributum docere, quo facilius intellegi possit eandem omnium civitatum esse naturam. ut enim populi Romani honores quondam fuerunt rari et tenues ob eamque causam gloriosi, nunc autem effusi atque obsoleti, Page 235 → sic olim apud Athenienses fuisse reperimus. namque huic Miltiadi, qui Athenas totamque Graeciam liberarat, talis honos tributus est, in porticu, quae Poecile vocatur, cum pugna depingeretur Marathonia, ut in decem praetorum numero prima eius imago poneretur isque hortaretur milites proeliumque committeret. idem ille populus, posteaquam maius imperium est nactus et largitione magistratuum corruptus est, trecentas statuas Demetrio Phalereo decrevit. [It does not seem out of place to explain what sort of reward was granted to Miltiades for this victory, in order that it might be more easily understood that the nature of all states is the same. Just as the honors bestowed by the Roman people were formerly rare and slight and for that reason glorious, but are now lavish and ordinary, so it was once, we find, among the Athenians also. To this Miltiades, then, who had liberated Athens and the whole of Greece, such an honor was granted: that when the Battle of Marathon was depicted in the porticus that is called Poecile, his image was placed first among the ten praetors and he was exhorting the soldiers and giving the signal for battle. But that same people, after it obtained a greater empire and was corrupted by the largesse of its magistrates, decreed three hundred statues for Demetrius of Phalerum.] Exemplary relativism is directly asserted: the nature of all states is the same, and so Athens and Rome can be legitimately compared. In both, honors were once rare and slight, but empire and largesse led to corruption and moral decline. Nostalgia for the virtue of early Rome is thereby grafted onto early Athenian history, and the reader is invited to make parallels between the two. Miltiades is a figure of yore who saved the state for modest reward, while Demetrius is a later figure of decadence who was honored out of proportion to his worth. Nepos' Roman reader might imagine a comparison with Camillus (note Livy 5.49.7) and Julius Caesar, and if he does, then Nepos' exemplary framework has succeeded. It does not then matter if such a reader actually knows who Demetrius of Phalerum was and what he did. What matters is the effect of their exemplary commemoration: Miltiades' was simple but inspiring; Demetrius' was excessive and thereby flat. Even Miltiades' commemoration is better understood as relativized than contextualized, for the Roman reader may or may not know the location or significance of “the porticus that is called Poecile” (i.e., the Stoa Poikile), but that reader can nevertheless discern that Miltiades was depicted so as to be understood as the greatest Page 236 → man among his peers and the one most responsible for the victory. That is the honorable sort of commemoration that Nepos desires the virtuous Roman commander to seek, and thus it renders Miltiades worthy of imitation. The details of the Greek context are significant not for their own sake but for the way they allow the Roman reader—perhaps especially the middlebrow or largely Greekless Roman reader—to understand the significance of Miltiades' career in exemplary terms. Nepos' political biographies were written not as schoolbooks addressed to an unlearned public by a simpleminded author but as endorsements of republican virtue addressed to an embattled republican political class by a quiet champion of that class.9 Hence they do possess a certain pedagogical value, but their audience is more aptly imagined as serious readers of Livy and Cicero than boys in school. Their exemplary perspective is, in itself, unremarkable, for it is notably similar to the republican thought of contemporary authors as different as Cicero and Catullus. But even though Nepos' moral and political thought is not notably original, his comparative format is novel and his exemplary utility high. His Lives are political statements as much as moral ones, and they bring

the exempla of Greece to bear on Rome. In this cross-cultural exemplary framework, when Epaminondas retains his command beyond its terminal date and has to face political repercussions, the Roman reader is implicitly invited to compare Caesar at the Rubicon, mulling over the likelihood of political extinction via the courts relative to the risks of instigating civil war.10 Epaminondas chose to accept the authority of his jury, yielding to the institutions of his republic even when unsure that he would receive justice from them. The contrast with Caesar is stark: Epaminondas stands as an exemplum of the republican choice not taken. Nepos contrasts Epaminondas with Pelopidas, however, regarding the question of whether one is right to kill a fellow citizen who acts as a tyrant. In doing so, he acknowledges that both men made claims to propriety, yet he endorses Pelopidas' successful tyrannicide over Epaminondas' more principled but passive resistance. The Roman reader is invited to compare the debate Page 237 → surrounding Caesar's assassination on the Ides of March: not every Roman would justify Brutus' leadership, but Nepos would.11 Agesilaus is awarded praise in Nepos' biography for his lifelong respect for conservative values, even when, after early successes, the peak of his career was undone by larger political and military movements. He failed to thwart his greatest enemy, which left him marginalized in power yet never in doubt about his principles. The Roman reader is invited to compare Cicero, champion of the optimates to the bitter end, yet ultimately ineffective against Caesar's more nimble power. The career of Julius Caesar can thus provide a lens through which to focus the political legacies of three very different Greek commanders from three centuries before. Yet exempla are flexible things, and it is not possible to stipulate exactly how a reader might apply one. A reader might just as effectively contrast Agesilaus with Sulla: the former saw the greater glory in obeying the institutions of his republic than in conquering Asia, while the latter marched his legions against his capitol in order to reclaim his Asiatic command. Nepos exclaims that he wishes Roman commanders had followed Agesilaus' example, but he does not name names, and the reader is free to settle on whomever he judges most appropriate. Hence it is not prudent to advocate any specific application of any particular act of exemplary framing, but positing Caesar as Nepos' target feels apt. One of Nepos' strongest recurring themes is the superiority of liberty to tyranny, and the shadow of Caesar's tyranny fell darkly over the years in which Nepos composed his extant political biographies. Page 238 → 1. Flagg 1895: iii continues, “Admiration of his heroes leads [Nepos] often, to be sure, to exaggerate their virtues and achievements in a boyish way; but the admiration is always real, the sympathy is with noble things, the simple pathos is genuine.” 2. Ronald Syme 1939: 250 and 1964: 235, for example, suggested in passing that On Foreign Generals was “designed for use in schools” (note also Horsfall 1989: xix), but Dionisotti 1988: 35–36 and Tuplin 2000: 154–58 demonstrate that such a suggestion merits little credence. 3. Tuplin 2000: 136 makes this point, which is well developed by Beneker 2009 (compare Pelling 2011: 7–9 on the readers of Plutarch's Lives). Rawson 1985: 49, by contrast, offers an unfairly exaggerated rendering of Pel. 1.1: “Nepos undoubtedly wrote his brief Lives…for a semi-educated public defined as the vulgus, prone to satietas and suffering from ignorantia, and explicitly stated to lack any knowledge of Greek literature.” 4. For attitudes and practices involving Greek language and culture in Roman education (esp. at the end of the Republic), see Horsfall 1979; Kaimio 1979 (esp. 195–207, as well as 103–10 on the use of Greek in the Roman Senate); Dionisotti 1988: 36–38; Griffin 1994: 696–700; Fantham 1996: 4–6, 27–31; Adams 2003: 4–15. Although different in emphasis, all describe a population of educated Romans whose knowledge of Greek language and culture was uneven. As Fantham 1996: 27 says, “any Roman with cultural pretensions would have a mind filled with Greek learning.” Yet a scholarly writer like Nepos should be regarded as among the most studious and the most bilingual, whose audience necessarily included many less learned than he. 5. I have drawn these examples from Tuplin 2000: 140–41 (see further T. Kelly 1985 for the Spartan scytale), while Beneker 2009: 119 makes the point about Leuctra. Compare Horsfall 1989: xix–xxi, 62, and

113, where he claims that Nepos wrote for a “monoglot, middlebrow public.” I find unpersuasive the argument of Anselm 2004: 175–82 that Atticus, the dedicatee of On Foreign Generals, is also its ideal reader: compare Pelling 2002: 270–71 on Sosius Senecio as reader of Plutarch's Parallel Lives. 6. See Kaimio 1979: 239–43; Geiger 1985b: 70–71; Horsfall 1989: xxi; they cite Cic., Fin. 1.10; Acad. 1.4, 10; Nat. D. 1.8; and Tusc. 5.116. 7. Noted both by Geiger 1985b: 71 n. 32 and Rawson 1985: 49. Horsfall 1989: xxi responds: “But what artisan had the time to read, or the money to buy [Nepos?…He] is at the heart of an insoluble problem of cultural history.” 8. See, e.g., Horsfall 1993: 4–5; Griffin 1995: 325–26; Berry 2004: 302–3. For surveys of the larger context, see Griffin 1997; Wisse 2002: 334–41; Zetzel 2003. Dionisotti 1988 deftly deploys Ciceronian treatments of Greek history (e.g., Rep. 1.4–6; Sest. 141–42; Phil. 1.1) as a revealing backdrop against which to read Nepos' On Foreign Generals. I would also emphasize Leg. 3.30–32 (with Dyck 2004: 521–23), for it suggests why Cicero would have endorsed the potential value of Nepos' exemplarizing focus on great men. 9. Anselm also argues for the contemporary relevance of Nepos' On Foreign Generals, but she posits (2004: 171–74) that the book was to function as a “mirror for princes” (Fürstenspiegel) for the young Caesar, whereas I see the primary audience as optimates loyal to the values of Cicero. Augustus would, of course, eventually co-opt those optimates (see Millar 1988 for the relevance of Nepos' Atticus to such a process), and he himself was a promoter of exempla (see Suet., Aug. 89.2), but Nepos' corpus is so consistently republican that I find it more likely that he was looking back to the Republic when writing On Foreign Generals than looking forward to the perspective of the imminent princeps of the world (principem non solum urbis Romae, sed orbis terrarum, Att. 20.5). 10. See Beneker 2011 for the later biographical tradition regarding Caesar at the Rubicon. 11. Yet see Dionisotti 1988: 40–41, who notes how Cicero observed that killing a tyrant does not automatically equate to restoring liberty. Pelopidas' leadership led to both outcomes, but Brutus' did not. In this way, Pelopidas' exemplum could also be understood as critical of Brutus.

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Page 259 →

Index Locorum Ammianus Marcellinus History 21.16.12–13: 62–64 Appian Hannibalic Wars 15: 41–43 Syrian Wars 40: 42n121 205–18: 181n30 212–18: 176n20 213: 181n29 213–14: 177n21 215: 179n26 216–17: 179n27 217: 182n31 218: 180n28 [Aristotle] Athenaion Politeia 22.7: 150n42 Aristotle Rhetoric 2.20: 84n76 Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 9.384a: 222n103 14.657b–c: 222n103, 223n104 15.676c–d: 222n103 Atticus, Titus Pomponius Liber Annalis: 26–27, 27n80 Augustine City of God

6.2: 32n93 14.20: 87n84 Opus imperfectum contra Iulianum 4.43: 87–88 Ausonius Eclogues 1.1–3: 1n2 Epistulae 12.1: 1n2, 2n6 Cato the Elder Origines: 7–8, 13–14, 27n79 Catullus Carmina 1.1–2: 4 1.1–7: 1–11, 79–80, 83, 94 1.3–4: 80 1.5: 3, 93n102 1.5–7: 4, 8, 10, 84, 97 1.6: 5n21 1.7: 6n23, 7, 80 1.9: 1n1 1.10: 77n54 22.21: 31n89 29.1–4, 21–24: 91–94 30: 91n97 41: 92n100 43: 92n100 49: 79n62 50: 11n39 53: 5–6, 6n23 57: 92–93 63: 101

76: 91 87: 91n97 94: 92n100 105: 92n100 109: 91n97 114: 92n100 115: 92n100 [Cicero] Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.59–62: 84n76 Page 260 → Cicero Academica: 68n33 1.4, 10: 232n6 ad Atticum: 76–78, 81 1.12 [SB 12]: 76n52 1.14 [SB 14].4: 82n71 1.16 [SB 16]: 76n52 1.16 [SB 16].5: 91n96 1.17 [SB 17].5–7: 75n50 1.18 [SB 18].6: 91n95 1.20 [SB 20].3: 91n95 2.1 [SB 21].7: 59n10, 91n95 2.21 [SB 41].1: 91 7.2 [SB 125].1: 79n62 7.7 [SB 130].6: 92 9.10. [SB 177].4: 78n57 10.8 [SB 199].7: 45n127 12.23 [SB 262].2: 60n16 14.1 [SB 355].1: 91n96

16.5 [SB 410].5: 69–70, 74, 77–78, 82, 82n71 16.14 [SB 425].4: 68 ad familiares 4.1 [SB 150].1: 66n29 4.3 [SB 202].3: 66n29 5.12 [SB 22].5: 184n34 5.12 [SB 22].7: 34n102, 202n67 9.15–26: 81n66 ad Quintum 1.1.23: 202n67 1.2.7: 202n67 Brutus: 62n22 13: 27n80 13–19: 60n16 28: 45n127 41: 46n129 42: 60n16 43: 46n129 44: 60n16 72: 60n16 74: 60n16 75: 27n79 90: 27n79 211: 13n45 251–262: 62n24 262: 54n138 Cato (Laus Catonis): 106n47 De Divinatione 1.52: 202n67

1.121: 34n102 2.116: 34n102 De Finibus: 68n33 1.10: 232n6 2.87: 34n102 2.97: 184n34 5.4: 144n33 5.4–6: 233 5.52: 233 De Inventione 1.49: 84n76 1.55–56: 178n24 1.68–70: 178n24 1.69: 182n31 De Legibus: 68n33 1.5: 34n102, 73n47 3.30–32: 66n29, 78n59, 234n8 3.37: 59n9 De Natura Deorum 1.8: 232n6 De Officiis (On Duties): 64 2.2–6: 81n65 2.25: 199n62 2.41: 34n102 2.87: 202n67 3.1: 101n20 De Oratore 2.55: 34n102 2.58: 202n67 2.299: 45n127

3.59: 45n127 3.137: 66n29 3.139: 164n2, 166n7 De Republica 1.4–6: 234n8 De Senectute 1: 144n33 Orator 39: 34n102 120: 60n16 161: 79n62 186: 34n102 219: 34n102 Philippics: 73 1.1: 234n8 Pro Archia 14: 85–86 Page 261 → Pro Cornelio: 59 Pro Murena 13: 142n28 58–66: 90n93 Pro Quinctio: 71 Pro Roscio Amerino: 71–72 11, 21–22, 28: 72n43 Pro Sestio 141–42: 234n8 Tusculan Disputations: 69, 142n29 1.4: 164n2 2.11–12: 66–67, 81 2.11.13: 67n31 2.62: 202n67 3.45: 79n62

5.116: 232n6 Verrines 2.3.209: 86n82 Demosthenes Against Androtion: 72n42 Dinarchus Against Demosthenes 72–73: 185n35 Diodorus History 10.11.2: 166n7 10.32: 156n51 11.19.5–6: 50n133 11.56.5–8: 47n130 11.60.5–61.7: 35 14.80.1–4: 209–10n80 14.83.1–3: 215n91 14.86.6: 215n91 14.97.5: 217n93 15: 163n1, 186n37, 189n40 15.20: 193n49 15.25: 192n46 15.25–35: 197n56 15.33.1–3: 218n95 15.37: 191n45 15.38.3: 173n15 15.39.2–3: 166n7, 189n40 15.50–56: 165n5 15.50.6: 189n40 15.62.4: 189n40 15.67.3–4: 189n40

15.71.2: 189n40 15.71.2–72.2: 176n19, 198n60 15.72.2: 181n29 15.75.2: 189n40, 198n60 15.79.2: 185n35, 199n61 15.80.1–81.4: 189n40, 198n60 15.80.5: 199n61 15.81.1: 192n46 15.81.1–4: 191n45 15.81.2: 191n44, 191n45 15.84.3–87.6: 184n34 15.87: 184n34 15.87.6: 186n36 15.88.4: 185n35 15.93.6: 225n106 Diogenes Laertius Lives of the Philosophers 2.48–59: 202n67 5.75, 77: 149n40 6.85–93, 96–98: 87n84 Fronto ad M. Caesarem: 1.7.4: 77n54 ad Verum 2.1.17: 23n71 Gellius, Aulus Attic Nights 3.10–11: 108n53 4.18: 181n30 6.18.11: 83–84, 85–86, 91 6.19: 181n30

10.18.7: 84n78 11.8.5: 22, 22n69 15.28: 70–72, 105n40 17.21.1: 2 17.21.3: 2n6 17.21.8: 112n63 17.21.37: 88n90 Hellenica Oxyrhynchia fr. 14: 209n80 Herodotus History 6.34–41: 34, 151 6.52: 37n110 7.144: 150n42 7.204: 203n69 8.51: 35, 213n88 Page 262 → 8.75: 49n132 8.110: 49n132 8.115: 35, 213n88 8.131: 203n69 9.90–105: 35 Homer Iliad 2.674: 69n37 17.280: 69n37 Odyssey: 148n39 8.116–17: 69n37 11.469–70: 69 11.551: 69n37

24.18: 69n37 Horace Odes 2.1.2–4: 79n61 Isocrates Evagoras: 102–3 Jerome On Famous Men, Preface: 23n73, 109n54 Lactantius Divine Institutes 3.15.9: 66 3.15.10: 64–65, 81, 159n53 Livy Ab Urbe Condita Preface 9: 129 Preface 10: 85n79, 129–30, 139 Preface 12: 95n104 5.49.7: 235 7.9.6–10.14: 54n138 8.23.12: 178n23 21.30–38: 40–44 21.30.7–8: 41 21.33, 34.6–35.2: 41 21.36–37: 41 21.36.1: 43n124 21.36.2–3: 43 21.37.2–3: 43 35.14.5–12: 42n121 38.50.4–60.10: 181n30 39.40: 124n82

Macrobius Saturnalia 2.1.14: 8n31, 62n21, 78n56 Mela, Pomponius Chorographia: 38n112, 88 Nepos, Cornelius Agesilaus: 17, 36n108, 108, 123, 132, 200–229 1.1: 202–3 1.2: 203n69, 205, 210 1.2–3: 36, 152, 203 1.4–5: 204–5 2.1–2: 205, 211 2.2: 206, 210–11, 213 2.2–3.6: 146, 206–9 2.3: 206–7 2.4–5: 207, 214 2.5: 214 3.1–2: 208n78 3.2–3: 207–9 3.4–5: 209 3.6: 206 4.1: 210 4.2–3: 115–16, 120, 125n83, 131, 140, 151–52, 201n64, 203n69, 210–12, 210n81, 211n82, 211n85, 212n87, 214, 225–26 4.4: 35–36, 36n107, 212–13 4.5: 120, 213 4.6: 120–21, 147 4.6–8: 213–14, 214n90 5.1–2: 214–16 5.2–3: 215n91, 216n92, 216–17, 217n93 5.2–4: 186n37

6.1: 218–19, 218n94, 226, 232 6.2–3: 219–20 7.1: 220, 225 7.2: 220–21, 222 7.3–4: 221–22 7.4: 36–37 8.1: 205n71, 223–25 Page 263 → 8.2–5: 222–23 8.4: 222n103 8.5: 224 8.6: 222 8.6–7: 225 Alcibiades: 17 1.1: 155, 203 1.2–4: 33n96 1.4: 155 2.2–3: 155, 202n67, 205n71 3.2: 147–48 11.1: 34n101, 222n103 11.3: 170n12 Aristides: 17 1.2: 153, 232 Atticus: 8n30, 12–15, 22n68, 25nn76–77, 29, 30, 31n88, 55–61, 68n32, 70, 74, 75, 80, 93n102, 97n5, 104n35, 106n48, 114–27, 157n52, 236n9 1.4: 75 2.2: 118, 125 2.6: 232 4.1–2: 57, 118, 125 4.4: 75

4.5: 59n12 5.1–2: 57 5.3–4: 68n34, 75 6: 61, 118, 121 6.1: 59, 60, 75 6.2: 60, 121–22, 125, 125n83, 153n47 6.4: 59n10 7–12: 61, 125 7.1–3: 57 7.3: 118 8–9: 82n68 8.1–4: 75 8.4: 118, 124 9–10: 218n95 9.1–10.5: 57 9.1–7: 75 9.5: 57n6 10.2–5: 74n49 11.6: 57, 133n17 12.1: 15, 29, 57 12.2: 15, 15n50, 57 12.4: 3n8, 80, 94 13–17: 83 13–18: 61 13.1: 61, 121 13.5: 90–91 13.6–7: 91 13.7: 55, 202n66 14.2: 91

15.2–3: 60, 122–23 15.3: 61n20 16.2–4: 75–79 16.3: 14n48 16.4: 94 17.2: 65 17.3: 65, 66n29, 67 18: 60n16 18.1: 27–28, 113 18.3: 21n66, 60 18.4: 60 18.5–6: 104n34, 108n53 19–20: 56 19.1: 14, 24, 27, 59, 65–66, 133 19.2–4: 15, 56 19.3: 63n27, 74n48 20: 60 20.1: 15n50, 57 20.1–5: 68n34 20.2: 57 20.3: 15, 117 20.4–5: 58 20.5: 15, 79, 114, 125, 236n9 21–22: 56 21.2: 56n4 22.3: 14, 14n48, 29 22.4: 59n9 Cato the Elder (extant): 7–8, 12–14, 15, 16n55, 22n68, 30, 123–25 2.2–3: 124–25

2.4: 123–24 3.1–2: 7, 7n28 3.3–4: 13n46 3.4: 7, 113 3.5: 13, 20–21, 21n66, 98n11, 105 Cato the Elder (lost): 8, 90, 98n11, 105–8 Page 264 → Chabrias: 17 1.2: 39n113 1.3: 38 4.2–3: 38 Chorographia (lost): 88–90 Chronica (lost): 1–11, 14, 37n110, 72n45, 83, 84, 88, 88n85, 88n87, 88n90, 93n102, 94, 97, 99, 112, 203n69 Cicero (lost): 8, 70–73, 81, 98n11, 105–8 Cimon: 17, 157 1.1–2: 155–56 1.2: 142n30 1.4–2.1: 156 2.1–5: 156 2.2: 35 3.1: 153, 232 Conon: 17, 18n58 2.3: 146 3.4: 38–39 5.1: 135–36 5.4: 34n101 Cornelia, Letter of: 12–13 Datames: 17, 18n61, 23–29 11.2: 21n66

Dion: 17, 18, 18n58, 18n60 2–3: 202n67 3.2: 8n30, 15n54, 22, 22n70, 29, 105 9.5: 135 Epaminondas: 17, 157–61, 163–88, 189–201, 218n94, 220n98, 221n100, 227–29 1–2: 165 1.1: 159 1.1–2.3: 101 1.1–3: 101, 134n19, 157–58 1.3: 160 1.4: 164–66 2: 165, 166 2.1: 166 2.1–2: 166n7, 170 2.1–3: 158–59 2.2: 160, 166–67 2.4–5: 167 3: 165, 166 3–4: 179 3–8: 165 3.1–2: 145, 167, 171 3.1–3: 170 3.4: 167 3.4–4.6: 222n102 3.4–6: 119–20 4–8: 166 4.1: 167–68 4.1–6: 165, 176 4.2: 120

4.2–3: 168–69 4.4–5: 169 4.6: 7, 15n54, 21, 21nn65–66, 109n56, 169–70, 216 5–6: 165, 179 5.1–2: 170–71 5.3–5: 171 5.6: 172, 186, 172n14 6.1–3: 173 6.4: 173–74, 186 7–8: 165, 179 7.1–2: 175–76, 178, 183, 184 7.2: 177–78n22 7.3: 176–77, 183, 177n21, 216 7.4: 179 7.4–5: 176–78 7.5: 183 8.1: 179, 179n26 8.2: 179n27 8.2–5: 179–84 8.3–4: 186 8.5: 184 9–10: 165 9.1–4: 165, 184–85, 186n36 9.1, 3: 199 10: 165 10.1–2: 185–87, 186n36 10.2: 226 10.3: 187–88, 188n38, 190, 197–98 10.4: 159–60, 185, 189

Eumenes: 17, 20 1.1: 134 1.3: 154 Page 265 → 1.5–6: 153–54 1.6–2.2: 20n63 3.4: 151n43 7.1–3: 20n63 8.1–3: 150–51 Exempla (lost): 8, 83–95, 97, 112, 129n5 Hamilcar: 17, 19, 23–29 3.2: 157n52 3.3: 153n47 Hannibal: 17, 19, 23–29, 40–44 1.1: 25–26, 42n122, 145–46 2.3–4: 148 3.4: 40–44 8.2: 27n79 13.1: 25–28, 34n101 13.4: 8n30, 15n54, 16–17, 22, 25, 74, 110, 113, 140, 149n41 Iphicrates: 17 2.3: 232 2.5: 219n96 3.2: 34n101 Kings. See Reges Lysander: 17, 204 1.1: 203 1.3–4: 116–17 1.3–5: 204n70

3.1–5: 204n70 Miltiades: 17, 34, 41, 44 1–2: 34, 37–39 1.1: 18, 151 2.5: 37–39 3.3: 186n37 4.2–5.5: 148 5.5–6.3: 51n135 6.1: 151 6.1–6.4: 148–50, 234–36 6.3: 186n37 6.4: 153 7.2: 151n43 7.5–6: 155 On Famous Men (De Viris Illustribus): 8, 11–30, 62, 85, 86, 87, 93n102, 96–114, 123, 126–27, 134, 140, 142, 160 On Foreign Generals: 8, 11–30, 34, 41n119, 74, 86, 96–114, 114–27, 128–40, 140–61, 162–63, 164, 177n21, 189n39, 203, 203n69, 205n72, 227–29, 230–237 On Greek Historians: 8, 15n54, 22, 29, 74 On Latin Historians: 8, 12–14, 15, 15n54, 22, 22n68, 29, 55, 73–75, 104n35, 123–25 On Roman Generals: 8, 16–17, 22, 23, 62, 79, 86, 87, 96–114, 147, 149n41, 150 Pausanias: 17, 33n100 1: 51n135 1.3–4: 52n136 2.2: 34n101 3.4: 232 3.6: 152–53 4.4: 147 5.2: 147 Pelopidas: 17, 189–201, 227–29 1–3: 190

1.1: 21n65, 100, 108, 134–35, 144, 189n41, 189–90, 231, 231n3 1.2–3: 192–93 1.4: 192, 193 2–3: 188n38 2.1: 194 2.2: 194, 195 2.3–4: 194–95 2.5: 192, 195 3.1: 211n84 3.1–3: 137–39, 195–96 3.3: 192, 196–97, 196n54 4.1: 197–98, 197n57 197n58 4.1–3: 18n58, 190–92, 189n42, 198 4.3: 198n60 5.1–5: 190, 198–99, 198n60 Phocion: 17, 28, 28n83 Preface (On Foreign Generals): 6, 16, 20, 21n65, 24, 30, 134n19, 141–44, 146–47, 153, 157–61, 227 1: 15, 29, 101, 109n56, 157, 159, 166, 231, 233 4: 155–56 Page 266 → 8: 7, 15–16n54, 20, 21n65, 130, 169, 203 Reges (Kings): 16, 18–22, 23–29 1.1: 20–21, 21nn65–66, 22, 24, 109n56, 130 1.1–2: 19, 24, 28, 111–12, 151 1.2–5: 23 2.1: 20n63 3.5: 19, 24 Themistocles: 17, 20, 33n100, 35n105, 44–54 1.1: 18

1.4: 34n101, 45 2.2: 153 4.3–5: 50, 51 5.1–3: 50–51, 50n133 5.2: 35–36, 51, 213n88 5.3: 51n135, 186n37 7.2–3: 153, 203n69 7.6: 186n37 8.1: 153, 232 8.3–10.5: 45n128 9.1–3: 47 9.1: 34n101, 46, 46n129, 50n133, 53n137 9.2–4: 44–54 9.4: 186n37 10.4: 34n101, 46n129 10.4–5: 45n128 Thrasybulus: 17, 18n58 1.1–3: 134 Timoleon: 17, 18, 18n60, 18n61 1.2: 136n21 3.4: 136n21 Timotheus: 17 4.4: 18n58, 28, 28n83 4.5: 24–25 4.5–6: 18n61 4.6: 134, 134n19 Fragments (Marshall) 1: 1n2, 2n6 2: 1n1, 8n31

3: 2n5 4: 2n4, 2n6, 88n90 5: 2n4 6: 2n5 7: 2n4, 2n6, 88n90, 112n63 8: 2n6 9: 2n4 10: 83n74, 88 11: 88, 181n30 12: 8n31, 84n75, 88 13: 88, 181n30 14: 87–88 15: 38n112 15–25: 38n112, 88 16: 38n112 18: 88n85 19: 2n3, 38n112 22: 38n112, 88n90 25: 88n90 26: 90n91 26–34: 88 27: 89 28: 90n91 29: 88n90 30: 88–89n90 31: 90n91, 112n64 32: 88–89n90 33: 90n91, 93–94 34: 90n91

35: 88 36: 8n31 37: 8n31, 70–71, 105n40 38: 59n12 39: 64–65, 81, 159n53 40: 23n73, 109n54 40–62: 22n67 42: 22–23n70 43: 8n31, 22, 22–23n70 48: 23n72 49: 23n72 51: 13n45, 23n72 52: 23n72 53: 23n73 54: 23n73 57: 22n68, 103n32 58: 73–75, 113n67 59: 13n45 60: 23n71 61: 8n32, 23n73 Page 267 → 62: 86–87, 93n102 63: 8n31 Pausanias Description of Greece 3.8.7–10: 205n71 8.11.5–10: 184n34 8.11.9: 185n35 9.6.4: 165n5

9.13–15: 163n1 9.13.1: 166n7 9.13.2: 174n16 9.13.3–12: 165n5 9.14.4–7: 176n20 9.14.5: 178n23 9.15.1–2: 176n19, 198n60 9.15.5: 184n34 9.15.6: 186n37 Plato Symposium 219c–d: 155 Pliny (the Elder) Natural History: 88–90, 93–94 Preface: 94n103 3.125: 88n85 3.127: 2n3, 38n112 5.4: 38n112 9.60–61: 89 9.137: 59n11, 89 10.60: 59n11, 89 13.104: 88n90 16.36: 88n90 33.146: 89, 112n64 35.11: 108n53 35.16: 88n90 36.48: 89–90, 93–94 36.59: 90 Pliny (the Younger) Epistulae

4.28: 2n3 5.3.6: 8n31, 15n51, 79–80 [Plutarch] Lives of the Ten Orators: 102 Plutarch Agesilaus: 189n42, 195n51, 200n63, 201n64 1.4: 211n82 2.1: 205n71 2.3–6: 224n105 3: 205n71 4: 211n82 4.2–6: 211–12n85 6.1–5: 205n72 7–8: 205n72 9.3–4: 208n78 10.1–4: 209n80 10.10: 222n103 15: 212n86 15.1: 210n81 15.5: 211n82 16: 215n91 16.6: 216n92 18–19: 214n90 19.2: 214n90 19.5–7: 221n100 19.6: 37 23.6–7: 193n48 23.6–24.2: 193n49 27.4: 191n45

27.5–28.4: 174n16 28: 165n5 32.6–9: 220n98 35.1–2: 184n34 36.1–5: 221n99 36.3: 222n103 36.7–10: 222n103 36.10: 223n104 37.10–11: 221n99 40.2–4: 225n106 Alcibiades: 23.7–9: 205n71 Alexander: 54n139, 101 1.1–3: 134n19 Antony: 136n22 Brutus: 79n61 Caesar, Julius: 79n61 65.1–4: 195n53 Caesares (Lives of the Caesars): 111n61, 112n62 Cato the Younger: 107n50 16–19: 90n93 Cicero: 39n115 Cimon 4.6–8: 156n51 Page 268 → 12.5–8: 35 15.3–4: 156n51 Coriolanus: 136n22 Demetrius 1: 61n19 Epaminondas (lost): 163n1, 177n21

Gracchus, Gaius, 13.2: 13n45 Gracchus, Tiberius, 21: 13n45, 23n72 Lucullus 43: 23n72 Lycurgus: 112n62 Lysander 22.6–13: 205n71 30.2: 222n103 Marcellus 30: 23n72 Marius: 136n22 Nicias 1.5: 134n19 Numa: 112n62 On the Daimonion of Socrates: 189n40 576c: 195n52 576d–577a: 188n38 577c–d: 195n52 583b–c: 166n7 583d–585d: 167n8 585f–586a: 166n7 588b: 195n52 594b–c: 188n38 594c–e: 195n52 594f–598f: 188n38, 192n46 596c–597f: 195n55 596f: 195n54 597d–f: 192n47 598: 197n56 On Inoffensive Self-Praise 540d–e: 176n20, 179n26 540e: 180n28

542b–c: 172n14 Parallel Lives: 16–17, 112n62, 130n8, 131n11, 132, 136n22, 151n44, 231n3, 232n5 Pelopidas: 163n1, 189n39, 189n40, 189n42, 191n45, 199n62 1–2: 199n61 3: 167n8 3–4: 191n45 3.7–8: 186n36 4.1–4: 191n45 5.4: 188n38 5–6: 193n49 5–13: 192n46 7.1–3: 194n50 7.5: 188n38 8.1–3: 195n52 8–12: 188n38 9.1–4: 195n52 10.9–10: 196n54 11: 196n55 11.5–10: 192n47 12–15: 197n56 13.5–7: 195n51 16–17: 191n45 18.1–20.3: 191n44 20–23: 165n5 23: 191n44 24.1–25.4: 176n20 25.1: 181n29 25.3: 179n26 25.4: 183n33

25.5–15: 171n13, 181n29 26–35: 198n60 28–29: 176n19 30: 198n60 32.9: 199n61 Political Precepts 799e–f: 176n20 810f: 173n15 817f: 176n20 Romulus: 112n62 Sayings of Kings and Commanders 192c–194c: 163n1, 171n13, 189n42 193b–c: 167n8 193c: 168n9 193c–d: 173n15 194a–c: 176n20 194b–c: 180n28 194b: 179n27 194c–e: 189n42 Sayings of Spartans 210c: 222n103, 223n104 213d–e: 168n9 214c–d: 184n34 Page 269 → 214d–e: 222n103, 222n104 222e: 168n9 Synkrisis of Pelopidas and Marcellus 1: 23n72 3: 199n61

Table Talk 680b: 176n19 Themistocles 27.1–2: 53n137 28.2–4: 47n130 Theseus: 112n62 Timoleon 1.1–4: 134n19 Whether an Elderly Man Should Engage in Politics 797a–b: 176n19 Polybius History 3.47–56: 40–44 3.48.6: 41 3.48.12: 41 3.51.7–10, 53.1–6: 41 3.54.7–55.9: 41, 43n124 3.60.5: 41n118 4.27.4: 193n49 6.43: 185n35 9.8.2–12: 184n34 10.21.5–8: 103n31, 106n43 23.13: 26–27, 27n81 23.14: 181n30 39.1: 22n69 Philopoemen: 103–6 Quintilian Institutio Oratoria 1.1.6: 13n45 5.11: 84n76 9.4.141: 94n103 10.1.95: 32n93

10.1.114: 62n24 12.1.1: 85n80 12.2.29–31: 86n82 12.2.30: 66n29 12.6.4: 71n40 Sallust Catiline: 103 Seneca (the Younger) Epistulae 21.4, 97.3–6, 118.1–2: 76n52 Silius Italicus Punica 3.496, 513–15: 42n121 Suetonius Augustus 77: 86–87 89.2: 236n9 Caesares (Lives of the Caesars): 23n73, 102, 107n51, 112n62, 132n14, 132–33 Cicero: 72–73n45 De Grammaticis et Rhetoribus 4.1: 8n32 27: 22n68, 103n32 Iulius (Julius Caesar): 134n19 4.2: 39n113 55.1–2: 62 73: 92n101 On Famous Men: 23n73, 72n45, 132n14 Terence 1, 3: 23n73 Tacitus Agricola: 104n39

4.3: 81n65 Thucydides History: 44–54 1.98.1–2: 35n106 1.100.1: 35 1.132: 52n136 1.136–38: 45n128 1.137.3–4: 47–53 1.137.4: 44 1.138.3: 45 1.138.4: 45n128, 46n129 1.138.6: 45n128 Valerius Maximus Memorable Deeds and Sayings: 61n19, 84–85 3.2.ext 5: 184n34 4.3.2: 107n50 4.4.pref: 84n78 Varro Hebdomades: 108n53, 110, 111n61 Page 270 → Velleius Paterculus History 2.3.3–4: 140n25 Virgil Aeneid 1.254–96: 148 Xenophon Agesilaus: 33n100, 102–5, 108, 109n56, 132, 200n63, 201n64, 205n72, 209n80, 226n108 1–2: 202n65 1.2–4: 203n69 1.5: 205n71

1.6–8: 205n72 1.6–37: 206n73 1.10: 206n77 1.10–13: 206n77 1.15: 206n75 1.15–16: 208n78 1.17–19: 208n78 1.20–22: 208n78 1.23–24: 206n75 1.25–27: 208n79 1.28–34: 209–10n80 1.30–32: 206n75 1.35: 206n74 1.36: 151–52, 201n64, 210n81, 211nn82–85, 212nn86–87 2.1: 36, 36n107, 213n88 2.2–5: 206n75 2.3–5: 206n77 2.6–16: 214n90 2.9: 214n90 2.13: 214n90 2.16: 212n87 2.17: 217n93 2.17–20: 215n91 2.20–23: 218n94 2.24: 219n96 2.25–27: 221n99 2.28–31: 222n103 3–11: 202n65, 226n108 4: 222n102

6.4: 211n82 7.1: 221n99, 225n107 7.3: 217n93 7.5–6: 215n91, 216n92, 217n93 8.5–7: 221n100 8.7: 37 11.1: 214n90 Constitution of the Lacedaemonians 15.6–7: 211n85 Cyropaedia: 102–3 Hellenica: 163n1, 189n40, 200n63, 205n72 3.3.1–4: 205n71 3.4: 206n73 3.4.2–3: 205n72 3.4.5–6: 206n77 3.4.7–10: 205n72 3.4.11: 206n77 3.4.12–15: 206n75 3.4.16–18: 208n79 3.4.20–24: 209n80 3.5.1: 210n81 4.1: 206n73 4.1.41–4.2.2: 210n81 4.2.3: 212n86 4.2.8: 213n88 4.2.9–4.3.1: 215n91 4.3.3–9: 206n75 4.3.15–21: 214n90 4.3.20: 214n90 4.4.19: 217n93

4.5: 217n93 5.2.25–36: 193n49 5.2.32: 193n48 5.4: 189n40, 197n56 5.4.1: 195n51 5.4.1–12: 192n46 5.4.3–6: 195n52 5.4.5–7: 196n55 6.3.19: 174n16 6.4.1–26: 165n5 6.4.3: 195n51 6.4.18: 218n95 7.1.33–37: 198n60 7.5: 198n59 7.5.18–27: 184n34 Hiero 9.5–7: 208n79 Symposium 1.1: 101n20

Page 271 →

Index of Modern Scholars Reference is by page only; note numbers are not specified. Adams, J. N., 70, 81, 82, 231 Albrecht, Michael von, 8, 12, 20, 23, 25, 32, 33, 39, 59, 98, 99, 105, 109, 134 Anderson, J. K., 200, 208 Anselm, Sabine, 9, 12, 18, 25, 29, 32, 134, 164, 170, 189, 201, 232, 236 Arkins, B., 5 Astin, Alan E., 13, 14, 124 Badian, E., 13, 35, 54, 71, 129, 154 Baldwin, Barry, 23, 109 Barber, G. L., 176 Batstone, William W., 3, 5 Beard, Mary, 77 Beck, Hans, 163, 191, 194 Bell, Sinclair, 129, 131 Beneker, Jeffrey, 134, 144, 157, 165, 186, 224, 231, 232, 236 Berry, D. H., 86, 234 Blamire, A., 156 Blom, Henriette van der, 84 Bloomer, W. Martin, 32, 84, 85 Boissier, Gaston, 56 Bosworth, A. Brian, 41 Bowersock, Glen W., 102, 111, 144 Bradley, James R., 33, 34, 36, 45, 50, 52, 109, 152, 162, 164, 166, 168, 170, 172, 174, 176, 177, 179, 180, 184–86, 188–93, 195, 198, 199, 202, 203, 205, 206, 208, 209, 211, 214, 215, 217–19, 221, 222, 225, 226 Bradley, Keith R., 119, 133 Brenk, Frederick, 132, 188, 192 Briscoe, John, 181 Bruce, I. A. F., 209–10

Bucher, Gregory, 42 Buck, Robert J., 163, 192, 193, 197 Buckler, John, 35, 163, 165, 167, 171, 174, 176–79, 181, 184, 185, 189, 191, 194, 197, 199, 206, 213, 217, 219 Burn, A. R., 34 Burridge, Richard A., 55, 102, 104, 105 Burton, Paul J., 129 Cairns, Francis, 4, 7, 9 Cameron, Alan, 12 Carter, C. J., 84 Cartledge, Paul, 20, 36, 116, 165, 174, 176, 193, 200, 201, 203–6, 210, 212, 213, 217, 221, 222, 225, 226 Cawkwell, George, 163, 165, 174, 179, 185, 188, 190, 192, 194, 195, 200 Cerri, Giovanni, 103, 104 Chambers, Mortimer, 209 Chaplin, Jane D., 83, 84, 88, 117, 128–31, 180 Chassignet, Martine, 13 Clausen, Wendell, 9 Conte, Gian Biaggio, 8, 15, 32, 59, 98, 118, 122, 142 Copley, Frank O., 3, 4, 6, 10, 11, 80 Corvino, Ralph, 84 Courtney, Edward, 13 Page 272 → Cox, Patricia, 39, 40, 102, 103, 132 Craig, Christopher P., 90 Crawford, Jane W., 59 Damon, Cynthia, 55, 82 Davies, J. K., 156 Dillery, John, 13, 22, 103, 132, 184, 186, 192, 193, 195, 197, 200, 201, 203, 206, 208, 210, 212 Dionisotti, A. C., 15, 18, 21, 25, 29, 31, 48, 52, 55, 97, 99, 110, 111, 114, 116–20, 123–26, 128, 131, 133, 136, 139, 142, 149, 153, 164, 179, 188, 193, 194, 198, 231, 234, 237 Dixon, Suzanne, 13

Dougan, Thomas Wilson, 69 Douglas, A. E., 27, 60 Duff, Timothy E., 16, 40, 54, 61, 100, 103, 105, 111, 129, 131–34, 136, 145, 151, 157, 159 Dyck, Andrew R., 72, 73, 234 Earl, Donald, 141 Elder, J. P., 3–6, 11, 77 Fantham, Elaine, 2, 11, 231 Farrington, Scott T., 103, 106 Feeney, Denis, 2, 3, 46, 60, 97 Fehrle, Rudolf, 106 Feldherr, Andrew, 211 Fitzgerald, William, 5 Flagg, Isaac, 230, 231 Flower, Harriet I., 129 Flower, Michael A., 132, 223 Fordyce, C. J., 3, 92 Fornara, Charles William, 85, 132 Frier, Bruce W., 2 Frost, Frank J., 45, 53, 54 Gaisser, Julia Haig, 2, 3, 5, 60, 94 Geiger, Joseph, 2, 3, 6, 9, 12–18, 21–23, 25, 28, 31, 33, 38, 40, 44, 46, 59, 60, 62, 63, 68, 70, 72, 73, 77, 78, 80, 82–84, 87, 88, 90, 93, 96–114, 117, 126, 132, 134, 144, 170, 232, 233 Gentili, Bruno, 103, 104 Georgiadou, Aristoula, 16, 163, 165–67, 171, 176, 179, 181, 188–97, 199 Gera, Deborah Levine, 103 Gibson, B. J., 5–7 Godwin, John, 91 Goldhill, Simon, 129 Gomme, A. W., 35, 47, 49, 53, 54 Goold, G. P., 5

Gotter, Ulrich, 13 Gowing, Alain M., 42, 84, 129, 130 Gratwick, A. S., 1, 5, 13, 31, 77, 80 Gray, Vivienne, 132, 189, 195, 198, 201, 205, 208, 226 Green, Peter, 5, 35, 45, 46, 53, 132 Griffin, Miriam, 56, 60, 68, 81, 98, 107, 109, 231, 234 Guillemin, Anne-Marie, 23, 40, 52 Habinek, Thomas N., 5 Haines, C. R., 23, 77 Hallett, Judith P., 13, 55, 118, 143 Halton, Thomas P., 23, 109 Hamilton, Charles D., 165, 174, 176, 191, 197, 200, 201, 203, 205, 206, 213, 217, 222, 224 Hamilton, Nigel, 102 Harrison, Evelyn B., 149 Hedrick, Charles W., Jr., 103, 128, 132 Henry, W. P., 200 Higgins, W. E., 163, 193, 200, 202, 225, 226 Hignett, C., 34 Hinds, Stephen, 11 Hirsch, Steven W., 200, 226 Holford-Strevens, Leofranc, 72, 73 Hollis, Adrian S., 79 Homeyer, H., 102 Hornblower, Simon, 206 Horsfall, Nicholas, 2, 3, 7–10, 13–15, 17, 21, 23, 25, 28, 30–35, 37–41, 44–46, 55, 56, 58–61, 68, 73, 76, 78–83, 88, 96–98, 103–9, 112, 117, 124, 125, 134, 139, 142, 144, 157, 203, 231–34 Hosius, Carl, 20, 23, 25, 59 Hout, Michael P. J. van den, 23, 77 Howe, Nicholas P., 90, 94 Page 273 →

Hoyos, Dexter, 40 Humble, Noreen, 16 Hutchinson, G. O., 76, 81 Jaeger, Mary, 181 Janan, Micaela, 5, 6 Jenkinson, Edna, 6, 9, 15, 23, 25, 30, 31, 33, 35, 39, 45, 52, 78, 80, 82, 88, 96, 134, 139, 144, 150 Jocelyn, H. D., 70 Jones, C. P., 59 Kaimio, Jorma, 22, 231, 232 Kaster, Robert A., 8, 22, 23, 84, 103, 109, 175 Keaveney, Arthur, 72 Kelly, Gavin, 63, 129 Kelly, Thomas, 232 Kempf, C., 84 Kern, S. J., 210 Kinsey, T. E., 71 Knox, Peter E., 79 Konstan, David, 92, 93 Kraus, Christina Shuttleworth, 40, 85, 105, 129, 130 Krentz, Peter, 34, 203, 205, 206, 208, 210 Krostenko, Brian A., 79 Lausberg, Heinrich, 84 Lazenby, J. F., 34, 40, 41, 43 Lee, Hermione, 102 Leeman, A. D., 62, Leo, Friedrich, 14, 25, 97, 164, 189, 202 Levene, D. S., 40, 43, 54, 130, 146 Levine, Philip, 4 Lewis, R. G., 59, 97, 104, 106, 107, 119, 132, 133

Lindsay, Hugh, 55, 61, 68 Litchfield, Henry Wheatland, 84, 129 Lobur, John A., 7, 55, 84, 85, 126 Long, A. A., 64 Lowrie, Michèle, 129 Luce, T. J., 129 Lupus, Bernhard, 23, 31, 32 Lyne, R. O. A. M., 78 Malcovati, Henrica, 2, 87, 88, 181 Manuwald, Gesine, 189 Marasco, Gabriele, 104 Marchesi, Ilaria, 2, 76, 94 Marincola, John, 6, 85, 105, 132 Marr, John L., 35, 46, 47 Marshall, Ann, 56, 60 Marshall, Bruce A., 76 Marshall, Peter K. 1, 8, 9, 12, 13, 16, 18, 19, 22, 38, 73, 83, 87, 88, 189 (see Index Locorum for the numbered fragments of Nepos) Maslakov, G., 84, 85 Mayer, Roland G., 129, 140 McCarty, Thomas G., 9, 40, 132–34 McDermott, William C., 107 McDonnell, Myles, 141 McGing, Brian, 40, 100, 102, 105 McKechnie, P. R., 210 Mellor, Ronald, 52 Merrill, Elmer Truesdell, 3 Millar, Fergus, 15, 31, 55, 56, 58–61, 63, 104, 114, 117–19, 122, 123, 126, 236 Millender, Ellen, 201, 203, 221, 223 Milnor, Kristina, 55, 57, 118, 143

Moles, John L., 13, 16, 31, 33, 40, 54, 55, 68, 79, 99–102, 104–7, 109, 118, 130, 134, 144, 170 Momigliano, Arnaldo, 12, 25, 40, 78, 97, 100–104, 109, 200 Monginot, Alfred, 31, 42 Morello, Ruth, 20, 94 Morgan, Teresa, 61, 83, 84, 145 Mossman, Judith, 20, 40, 100, 102, 105 Mueller, Hans-Friedrich, 84, 85 Munn, Mark, 163, 165, 194, 197, 199 Münzer, Friedrich, 60, 88, 89 Murphy, Trevor, 81 Nappa, Christopher, 5 Narducci, Emanuele, 55, 142 Nesselrath, Heinz-Günther, 167, 188, 189, 194 Newman, J. K., 1 Nicholson, John, 62, 76–78 Page 274 → Nipperdey, Karl, 20, 23, 25, 31, 33, 36, 37, 150, 155, 202, 217 Oakley, S. P., 41, 54, 178 Ogilvie, R. M., 62 Oppermann, Irene, 84 Osgood, Josiah, 5, 30, 55, 57–60, 91, 118 Pelling, Christopher, 16, 30, 39, 40, 61, 100, 104, 105, 107, 131, 132, 134, 136, 140, 144, 145, 151, 188, 196, 198, 223, 231, 232 Perlwitz, Olaf, 56, 60, 68 Peter, Hermann, 2, 22, 23, 25, 27, 60, 87, 88, 107 Phillips, David D., 72 Possanza, D. Mark, 148 Powell, Anton, 104 Powell, J. G. F., 69 Pownall, Frances, 132, 186, 192, 195, 198, 201, 202, 206, 223

Proietti, Gerald, 205 Pryzwansky, Molly M., 31, 40, 97, 105, 133 Purser, Louis Claude, 68, 70 Quinn, Kenneth, 3, 6 Rahn, H., 25 Rauh, Nicholas, 61 Rauk, John, 5, 6, 11 Rawson, Elizabeth, 2, 15, 25, 27, 33, 38, 60, 73, 81, 89, 107, 203, 231, 233 Reinhold, Meyer, 56 Robinson, Edward A., 73 Rolfe, John C., 20, 25, 31–33, 36–39, 52, 59, 150, 159, 191 Roller, Matthew, 128–31, 140 Romer, F. E., 38, 88 Roy, J., 163, 176 Ruch, Michel, 13, 42 Russell, Donald A., 16, 54, 100, 167, 188, 189, 194 Rutherford, R. B., 132 Sacks, Kenneth S., 132 Sansone, David, 16 Scardigli, Barbara, 104, 105 Schanz, Martin, 20, 23, 25, 59 Schepens, Guido, 99, 104 Schmidt, Peter L., 12 Scott, Lionel, 34 Scott, William C., 92 Scullard, H. H., 181 Seager, Robin, 163, 165, 174, 193, 197, 213 Setaioli, Aldo, 76 Shackleton Bailey, D. R., 8, 56, 59, 60, 62, 70, 74, 76, 78

Shipley, D. R., 44, 54, 132, 163, 165, 174, 176, 184, 186, 193, 194, 200, 201, 205, 208, 210–12, 214, 216, 221–24 Simpson, C. J., 2 Singleton, David, 4 Skidmore, Clive, 44, 61, 83–85, 88, 102, 129, 145 Skinner, Marilyn B., 91, 92 Small, Stuart G. P., 5 Smith, Christopher, 84, 104 Spencer, Diana, 20 Stadter, Philip, 15, 40, 54, 59, 98, 100, 102–6, 110, 119, 130, 131, 134, 144 Stark, R., 25 Starks, John H., Jr., 146 Steidle, Wolf, 97 Stem, Rex, 55–57, 61, 72, 74, 82, 90, 118, 120, 129, 133, 134, 140, 159, 165, 218 Sterling, Nicholas, 189 Stroup, Sarah Culpepper, 1, 5, 11, 79, 88 Stuart, Duane Reed, 103 Stylianou, P. J., 35, 45, 46, 132, 163, 165, 166, 173, 174, 176, 179, 181, 184, 186, 191, 192, 194, 197, 199, 225 Sumner, G. V., 60 Swain, Simon, 70, 102 Syme, Ronald, 14, 15, 30, 40, 59, 231 Syndikus, Hans Peter, 5 Page 275 → Talbert, Richard A., 36 Tatum, W. Jeffrey, 1, 5, 91, 92 Taylor, Lily Ross, 15, 77, 106 Thomson, D. F. S., 5, 6, 92 Tipping, Ben, 146 Titchener, Frances, 9, 16, 31, 33, 38, 40, 60, 68, 69, 77, 78, 80, 82, 109, 111, 113, 132, 134, 144 Toher, Mark, 14, 25, 28, 56

Townend, G. B., 32, 107 Tröster, Manuel, 54 Tuplin, Christopher, 12, 16, 18, 21, 23, 33, 36, 46, 56, 97–106, 108, 109, 112, 132, 134, 135, 142, 144, 147, 155, 163–65, 170, 184, 186, 189, 190, 192, 195, 198, 200, 202, 203, 205, 206, 210, 212, 215, 219, 231, 232 Tyrrell, Robert Yelverton, 68, 70 Unger, Georg Friedrich, 12, 33, 84 Vasaly, Ann, 72, 132, 152 Vaughan, Alden Gibson, 39 Walbank, F. W., 22, 27, 41, 103 Wallace-Hadrill, Andrew, 23, 32, 39, 40, 72, 119, 132, 133, 139, 142 Wardle, D., 84, 85 Welch, Kathryn E., 56, 59, 60 Wells, Joseph, 34 West, Stephanie, 97 Westlake, H. D., 176, 189–91 Wheeler, Arthur Leslie, 3 White, Peter, 45, 57, 62, 70, 77–79, 81 Whitmarsh, Tim, 105 Winstedt, E. O., 16 Winterbottom, Michael, 9, 12 Wiseman, T. P., 2–7, 9–11, 41, 60, 69, 79, 88, 98, 132 Wisse, Jakob, 234 Wissowa, Georg, 20, 23 Witte, K., 20, 23, 25, 31, 33, 36, 37, 150, 155, 202, 217 Woodman, A. J., 5, 7, 85, 104, 129, 130 Wray, David, 92 Yardley, J. C., 40 Zetzel, James E. G., 4, 66, 77, 234 Page 276 →

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General Index For ancient authors, also see the Index Locorum. For scholarship, see the Index of Modern Scholars. Accius, Lucius, 8n31, 79–80 accuracy, historical. See historicity Achilles, 69–70 Acilius, Gaius, 42n121 Actium, 30 Aegean Sea, 37–38 Aegospotami, 116 Africa, 19, 38n112, 88n90 Agamemnon, 171–72 Agesilaus campaign in Asia, 146, 205–12, 215–16, 219, 222, 225, 237 campaign in Egypt, 222–25 civil war, attitude toward, 214–20, 225–27 death and legacy of, 225–29, 237 defense of Sparta by, 219–20 dutiful conservatism of, 115, 119–23, 140, 201, 207, 210–14, 216–17, 220, 225–29, 237 king limited in power, 19–20, 111–12, 210–11 lameness of, 205n71, 224–25 lineage and accession, 36–37, 203–5 march from the Hellespont, 35–37, 212–13 Nepos on, 200–229 obedience to the ephors, 115–16, 120, 131, 151–52, 210–12, 225, 227 private habits of, 221–25 respect for the divine, 201, 207, 213–14, 225 wealth, attitude toward, 210–12, 220–25, 228

See also Plutarch: on Agesilaus; Xenophon: Agesilaus as source for Nepos Agis (founder of Agiad house), 203n69 Agis II, 204, 205n70 Agrippa, Marcus Vipsanius, 14, 56 Ajax, 69–70 Albinus, Aulus, 22 Alcibiades, 155, 157, 203, 205n71 Alexander of Macedon (the Great), 2, 17–18, 110, 153–54 death of, 20 generals and soldiers of, 19–20, 150–51 as subject of historical writing, 21n65, 54, 101, 103–6 Alexander of Pherae, 176n19, 199 Alexandrian literary values, 4–11, 79n62 Alps, 33, 40–44, 174n17 Ammianus Marcellinus, 62–64, 129n5 annals, 3n11, 13, 26–27, 181n30 Antigonus (general of Alexander), 19 Antigonus of Carystus, 99n14 antiquarianism, 57, 59, 84, 88, 113, 117, 118 Antony, Mark (Marcus Antonius), 76n51, 87 Page 278 → Atticus, relations with, 14–15, 56–60, 68n34, 75, 82n68 Octavian, relations with, 15, 29–30, 56–60, 68n34, 74, 79, 114, 125–26 Appian, 41–43, 129n5, 176nn20–21, 179nn26–27, 180n28, 181nn29–30, 182nn31–32 Archilochus, 2, 112 Aristodemus, 36–37 Aristotle, 84n76, 102n23 Artaxerxes, 19, 46–53 Asconius Pedianus, Quintus, 71–73, 76n52, 107n50

Asia, 150, 237 Agesilaus in, 115, 131, 146, 205–10, 212, 219, 222, 225, 237 Themistocles and Xerxes in, 46, 47–48, 50–51, 53n137 Asinius Pollio, Gaius, 79n61 Athena, 147, 214n90 Athenaeus, 202n65, 222n103, 223n104 Athens, 17, 18, 18n60, 28, 46, 87, 147 Atticus in, 59n12 Epaminondas and, 169, 173 marriage customs in, 142, 155–57 Miltiades and, 37–39, 148–51, 234–36 Pelopidas and, 194–96 Rome, compared to, 148–53, 232, 234–36 Sparta and, 116, 210, 213 Thebes, and, 137–38, 194–96 Atticus, Titus Pomponius Antony, relations with, 14–15, 56–60, 68n34, 75, 82n68 Cicero, relations with, 27n80, 45n127, 46n129, 55, 58n7, 59n10, 60, 61, 68–70, 75–79, 81n65, 82–83, 90–95, 122, 144 cognomen of, 59n12, 144 death of, 14, 24–28, 29, 56, 59, 104n35 dedicatee of On Foreign Generals, 12n44, 15, 29, 101, 141, 144, 232n5 dignitas of, 56–57, 122 financial activities of, 56–57, 60, 61n20 first living person to be subject of a biography, 14, 97n5, 106n48 friendship and, 56–61, 72n41, 75, 118, 124 historical researcher, 26–27, 46n129, 56, 60, 97n6, 99, 110, 113, 127 Liber Annalis, 26–27, 46n129 Nepos' characterization of, in Atticus, 56–61, 65–66, 68, 75, 117–27, 153, 218 (see also Index Locorum) Nepos' relations with, 13–15, 31n91, 55–61, 68–70, 74–75, 77–79, 81n65, 82–83, 90–95, 98–99, 109–10, 144,

232n5 neutrality of, 56–60, 75, 82n68, 117–18, 125–27 Octavian, relations with, 14–15, 56–60, 68n34 Pilia, wife of, 157n52 politics of, 56–61, 117–27 Pomponia, daugher of, 14, 56 portrait biographies, book of, 104n34, 108–10 Vipsania, granddaughter of, 14, 56 audience. See readership Augustine, 32n93, 87–88, 90 Augustus Caesar. See Octavian Ausonius, Decimus Magnus, 1n2, 2n6 autobiography, 39n115, 102n23, 104, 107 Baal, 148, 151 “barbarians,” 24–25, 29, 213–18, 223 bias and prejudice, cultural, 81, 140–44, 154, 158, 160–61, 233–34 of sources, 189n40, 202, 204 biography. See political biography blame. See praise and blame Boeotia, 170n12, 178n23, 179–80, 185, 210, 213 See also Thebes Brasidas, 110n58 bravery, 85–86, 151 Page 279 → of “barbarians,” 24–26 of Epaminondas, 145, 167, 184 of Pelopidas, 176 of Romans, 26, 42, 146, 151 of Themistocles, 49, 52–53, 153 brevity of Nepos, 34, 141, 156, 166n7, 189n39, 230

in Cato, 12, 13, 123 as compared to Suetonius and Plutarch, 16–17, 98n9, 132n14 as generic feature, 7, 16n55, 44, 98n9, 105–10, 112, 162, 169–70, 174n17, 208n78, 218, 234 kings, regarding, 11, 20–22, 111 Brutus, Marcus Iunius, 75, 82n68, 118, 237 Cadmea, 137–38, 187–88, 192–93, 196 Caesar Augustus. See Octavian Caesar, Julius, 107, 118 assassination of, 64, 118, 237 Catullus on, 91–95 Cicero on, 54n138, 62–64, 78–79, 80–81, 91–92, 94–95 as exemplary target of Nepos, 79, 91–95, 235–37 writing style of, 32, 54n138 Calidus, Lucius Iulius, 80 Callimachus, 3–11 Callisthenes, 35, 164n3, 176n19, 189n42 Callistratus, 173 Calvus, Gaius Licinius, 5–6, 11n39 Camillus, 63, 235 carelessness of Nepos, 10, 29, 31–32, 34, 45, 72, 76n51, 213n88 Caria, 17, 18n58, 208–9 Carthage culturally compared to Rome in exemplary ways, 146–48, 151, 153n47, 157n52 generals of included in On Foreign Generals, 17, 18n61, 19, 24–29 See also Hannibal Catiline and Catilinarians, 59n10, 103 Cato the Elder, 22, 27n79, 85 Nepos on, 7–8, 12–14, 90, 105–8, 113, 123–25 Cato the Younger, 90, 91–92, 106, 107, 122

Catullus and Nepos, 31–32, 55–56, 59–61 conservative attitudes of, 91–95, 236 innovation and, 1–11, 30, 83, 91, 97–99, 101 literary relationship between, 1–11, 77n54, 79–80, 82–83, 230 ceteri, 38–39 Chabrias, 18n58, 28, 38 Charisius, 22, 22–23n70, 83 Chersonese, 37–38 choice of subjects by Nepos, 17–18, 19–20, 23, 108–13, 151, 203, 228 chronology, study of, 35n106 by Atticus, 26–27, 46n129, 60n16 by Gellius, 2–3, 70–73 by Nepos, 2–3, 37n110, 70–73, 83–84, 88–89, 94–95, 97, 99, 112, 203n69 Cicero, Lucius Tullius (cousin of Marcus), 233 Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 61n20, 89, 107, 107n51, 125, 230 Atticus, relations with, 27n80, 45n127, 46n129, 55, 58n7, 59n10, 60, 61, 68–70, 75–79, 81n65, 82–83, 90–95, 122, 144 Caesar, Julius, views on, 54n138, 62–64, 78–79, 80–81, 91–92, 94–95 exempla and, 84–86, 164n2, 178n24, 236–37 letters of, 55, 60, 61, 62n21, 68–70, 74n49, 75–79, 81n66, 82, 91–92, 94 letters to and from Nepos, 8, 31n91, 61–68, 69, 80–81, 159n53 neoteric poets and, 79 Nepos' biography of, 8, 70–73, 81, 98n11, 105–8 Nepos' characterization of, 70–79, 113n67 Page 280 → Nepos' relations with, 31, 31n91, 55, 59, 61–83, 90–95 philosophy and, 64–68, 232–34 reader of Cornelia, 13 reader of Herodotus, 34 reader of Thucydides, 45n127, 46n129

reader of Xenophon, 202n67, 205n72 style of, relative to Nepos, 32–33, 73–74 treatises of, 14n48, 27n80, 64, 68, 69, 81n65, 95, 106, 142n29, 232–34 Cicero, Quintus Tullius (brother of Marcus), 75–76, 122 Cimon, 18, 34, 35, 142–43, 155–57 civil disobedience, of Epaminondas, 164, 177–84, 188, 200 civil war Greek, 187–88, 190–201, 214–20, 225–29, 236–37 Roman, 30, 57n6, 58–59, 61, 66n29, 72, 94, 118, 126, 140n25, 236–37 Claudius Quadrigarius, 42n121, 54n138 Cleopatra, 136n22 comitium, 115, 152, 210, 212 commentaries on Nepos, 30–31, 230–31 comparison of Mediterranean cultures, by Nepos chronologies integrated, 1–3, 97, 99, 112 defining quality of corpus, 6–7, 23–29, 126–27, 230–37 exemplary in method, 130–32, 133n16, 140–61, 162–63, 177n21, 186n37, 227–29 historians compared, 73–74, 112–13 innovative inclusion of political men, 44, 101, 108–14 on a large scale, 16–17 public and private character included, 119–20 See also political biography composition. See dates of composition; editions Conon, 38–39, 131n9, 135–36, 146 conservatism of Agesilaus, 201, 228, 237 of Nepos, 75, 79, 83, 90–91 consilium, 24, 50–51, 63, 66, 154, 193, 209, 219 Constantius II, 62–64

Corinth, 88n90 Corinthian War, 115–16, 213n89, 215–18 Cornelia (mother of the Gracchi), 12–13 Cornelius Nepos. See Nepos, Cornelius Coronea, 212n87, 213–15 correspondence of Cicero. See Cicero: letters corruption Epaminondas incorruptible, 21, 119–20, 165–70, 176, 179 Rome and, 60, 91–95, 121–27, 148–53 See also tyranny Crassus, Marcus Licinius, 91 Crates the Cynic, 87 Crete, 142 cultural comparison. See comparison cultural relativism. See relativism Cyclades, 33, 37–39, 44 Cynics, 87 Cyrus, 19, 110, 111–12 Xenophon's Cyropaedia, 102–3 dancing attitudes about, 141–44, 146, 157–61 Darius, 19, 111 Datames, 17, 19, 23–25, 28–29 dates of composition of Nepos' works Atticus, 14–15, 29–30, 93n102 Cato and Cicero's 105–8 Chronica, 60n14, 93n102 Exempla, 93n102 On Foreign Generals, 12, 12n44, 14, 29–30, 93n102, 108n53, 112n62, 129

decline, moral and political, 18n60 at Athens, 149–50, 235 at Rome, 90, 139–40, 149–50, 235 at Sparta, 201, 220, 226 Page 281 → Demetrius I of Macedonia, 19, 61 Demetrius of Phalerum, 149, 235 Demosthenes, 71n40, 72n42, 102 dignitas, of Atticus, 56–57, 122 Dinarchus, 185n35 Dinon, 34 Dio, Cassius, 129n5 Diodorus, 35, 47n130, 132, 156n51, 163n1, 173n15, 193n49, 197n56 on Agesilaus, 209n80, 215n91, 217n93, 218n95, 225n106 on Epaminondas, 165n5, 166n7, 181n29, 184n34, 185n35, 186n36 on Pelopidas, 176n19, 189n40, 191nn44–45, 191n46, 198n60, 199n61 source for Nepos, 45n128 suggesting Nepos' use of Ephorus, 45n128, 50n133, 187n37, 202n65 Diogenes Laertius, 87, 149n40, 202n67 Diomedon, 168–70 Dion, 135–36, 138 Dionysius I of Syracuse, 19 divination, 76, 78, 218 Domitius Balbus, 77n54 drinking habits, 86–87, 93n102, 137–39, 222–23 duty, public vs. private, 114–27, 128, 131, 137–39, 156, 193 of Agesilaus, 115–16, 120–23, 200–229 of Atticus, 56–61, 117–27 of Epaminondas, 119–20, 157–61, 163–200

of Pelopidas, 187–200 of Phoebidas, 192–93 of Themistocles, 47–51 editions first and second (Atticus), 14–15, 24–29, 56, 65–66 theory of two (On Foreign Generals), 12, 24–29, 31 education, 136n22, 211n82, 231–32 of Epaminondas, 101, 141–44, 146, 157–61, 164–66, 170 Egypt, 221n99, 222–25 elephants, 40, 41, 43 elisions, cultural, in Nepos, 147–51, 157, 177n21, 186n37 Elpinice, 142, 155–57 encomium relative to Nepos' political biography, 96, 103–8, 132, 147n38, 164n3, 203 Xenophon's Agesilaus, 109n56, 132, 201n64, 211n83, 225n107 Ennius, Quintus, 3, 8n31, 11, 79–80 envy (invidia), 175–84 Epaminondas, Nepos on, 163–201 bravery of, 145, 167, 184 civil disobedience of, 164, 177–84, 188, 200 civil war, attitude toward, 187–88, 191–92, 194–200, 227–28 death and legacy of, 165, 184–87, 199–200, 227–29, 236 education in music and philosphy, 101, 141–44, 146, 157–61, 166, 170 eloquence of, 165–66, 168–74, 179–86 exceptionalism of, 160, 166–67, 169, 170, 200 friendship and, 119, 159, 167, 168, 191n45 incorruptibility of, 21, 119–20, 165–70, 176, 179 leadership and, 160, 172, 182n32, 186, 197, 200 patience of, 145, 165–66, 175–84

Peloponnesian invasion by, 176–84, 182, 191n45, 218–19, 220n98 preeminence of, and its hazards, 157–61, 163–88, 190–201, 227–29 wealth, attitude toward, 119–20, 167–70, 222n102, 228 Ephesus, 59n10, 208 ephors, 115, 120–21, 152, 153, 203n69, 210–12, 225, 227 Ephorus, 35, 132, 186n37 on Agesilaus, 202n65, 209n80, 215n91, 218n95, 225n106, 226n108 Page 282 → on Epaminondas, 164n3, 176n19, 176n20, 184n34, 186n37 source for Nepos, 33n100, 34n104 on Themistocles, 45n128, 50n133 Epicureanism, 68n33, 81n66 equites (equestrians), 15, 56, 59, 93, 122, 234 erotica, 87–88, 90–91, 136n22, 142–43, 155–57, 205n71 ethnicity, 18, 147, 151 Eumenes, 134, 150–51, 153–54 Euripides, 103 Europe, 50–51, 205 Eurymedon River, 33, 35, 44 Eurypon, 203–4n69 Eurysthenes, 36–37, 203n69, 221 exaggeration, 7, 33, 38n112, 40, 78n58, 174n17, 179n26, 231n1, 231n3 exceptionalism, of Epaminondas, 160, 166–67, 169, 170, 200 exemplarity in Agesilaus, 115–16, 131, 152, 200–229 in Atticus, 59, 118n75 biography and, 86–88, 93n102, 128, 128–40, 144–54, 157, 169–70, 200, 221–25 in Epaminondas, 119–20, 157–61, 163–88 ethics and, 65–68, 81, 128–40, 144–50, 155–57, 197–200, 227–29, 232–34

in Exempla, 8, 83–95, 97, 112, 129n5 history and, 63n25, 85–86, 128–34, 140, 144–47, 152, 233 not uniform, 187–200, 223–29, 236–37 in On Foreign Generals, 128–61, 162–63, 227–37 oratory and, 84–85 in Pelopidas, 137–39, 189–200 relativism and, 140–61 time within, role of, 128–31, 150–51 exile, 52, 63, 137–39, 187–200 faction, 118, 124, 192–94, 204–5 See also partisanship Fenestella, 71–73 fides (good faith), 53, 91, 146, 154, 201, 206–7, 211, 214, 223 foresight, 76, 78, 195, 206–9 fortune as fate, 14, 57, 59, 133–34, 215, 216n92, 220, 226 as luck, 37, 56–57, 62–64, 74n48, 81, 191, 198–99 as wealth, 56–57, 74n48, 220 friendship, 14, 19–20, 81nn65–66, 91–92, 94–95, 148, 193, 202, 208, 225 Atticus and, 56–61, 72n41, 75, 118, 124 Atticus and Cicero, 55, 61, 68–70, 75–79, 82–83, 91–95 Catullus and, 4, 6, 11n39, 77n54, 79 Epaminondas and, 119, 159, 167, 168, 191n45 Nepos and Atticus, 12n44, 31n91, 46, 55–61, 68–70, 72, 78, 82–83, 91–95, 98–99, 118, 144 Nepos and Cicero, 31n91, 61–83, 84, 91–95 Themistocles and, 48–53 Fronto, Marcus Cornelius, 23, 77 Fulvia, 57n6 Gaul, 40–41, 62, 72n44, 91–94

Gellius, Aulus, 22 on chronology, 2–3, 88n90, 112n63 on exemplary topics, 83–86, 88, 91, 181n30 on Nepos' Cicero, 70–73, 105n40 on Varro, 108n53 Gellius Canus, Quintus, 74n49 generalship in Nepos comparative and exemplary presentation of, 25–26, 44, 110–14, 130–31, 160–64 political consequences of, 78–79, 94, 110–27, 128 subordinated to republicanism, 47–48, Page 283 → 135–39, 160–64, 171–84, 206–20, 226–37 geography, study of, by Nepos, 37–38, 88–90 gods. See religion Gracchus, Tiberius and Gaius (the Gracchi), 12–13, 23, 181n30 great men. See summi viri Greece, compared to Rome, 2–3, 6–7, 23–29, 44, 101, 109–14, 126–27 exemplary in Nepos' method, 130–32, 140–61, 162–63, 177n21, 186n37, 227–37 historians of, 73–74, 112–13 readers of Nepos unfamiliar with, 133n16, 134–35, 141–44, 164n2, 230–37 greed, 91, 95n104, 153n47 Greek language in Cicero's letters, 69n37, 81n66, 82n71 in Roman education, 231–32 Nepos' comprehension of, 44–54 Hamilcar, 19, 24–29, 146, 157n52 Hannibal, 19, 24–29 crossing the Alps, 33, 40–44, 174n17 death of, 25, 26–27 oath of, 148 prisoners after Cannae, 83–84, 91

prudence of, 25–26, 145–46 happiness, 63–65, 81 haste of Nepos, 13n46, 31–32, 34, 98, 143 hegemony Spartan, 226–27 Theban, 163, 171, 175, 182, 185, 186n37 Hellespont, 35–36, 48–51 Hercules (Heracles), 40–41, 42n121, 203 Herodotus, 49, 54, 102, 113, 150n42 neglected by Nepos, 34, 35, 41, 46, 110, 151, 213n88 on Spartan kings, 37n110, 203n69 Hesiod, 2 Hipparchia, 87 historical invention by Nepos, 41, 53–54 in Agesilaus, 215n91, 216n92, 217n93, 219n96, 224n105 in Epaminondas, 166n7, 178n23, 179n26, 186n37 historicity of Nepos, 84n77, 97–98, 135n20, 230 in Agesilaus, 201n64, 202n65, 205n71, 208n78, 212n87, 213n88, 214n90, 215n91, 218, 226n108 in Atticus, 15, 55 biography and, 40–44, 145n36, 162–63 in Cicero, 70–73 criticized excessively, 9–10, 31–32, 33–39 in Epaminondas, 164n3, 174n17, 177n21, 183n33, 185n35, 186n37, 187n38 in Pelopidas, 189n42, 191n45, 192n46, 195n51 in Themistocles, 44–54 See also sources, use of, by Nepos Homer, 2, 69–70, 82n71, 148n39 Horace, 79n61 Hortensius, Quintus, 68n34, 122

Hyginus, 23n73, 84n78, 108–9 immortality Cicero's jest about Nepos', 69–70, 77, 82 Leuctra as obtaining, 185–87, 226 industry (industria), 7, 97, 113, 154, 206–9, 225 innovation and novelty, of Nepos, 14, 106n46, 166, 230, 236 in Chronica, 1–11, 30, 94, 97, 99 in Exempla, 83, 86 invention of serial political biography, 96–114, 132, 163, 229 invention. See historical invention invidia (envy), 175–84 Iphicrates, 18n58, 28, 219n96, 232 Page 284 → irony, 224 Catullus toward Nepos, 3–11, 5n19, 5n21 dramatic, 51–52 Isocrates, 102, 103, 145n36 Italy, 1, 3, 4, 7, 10, 40, 42n121, 43, 72, 186n37 Jerome, 23n73, 59, 108–9 Jupiter (Jove), 1, 5n22, 10, 117, 148, 151, 181n30 Justin, 45n128 kings, 2, 63, 154, 172, 221 Agesilaus and Tachus, 222–25 Nepos on, 11–12, 16, 18–22, 23–29, 110–12, 151 Persian, 19–20, 23, 24, 35–37, 39, 44–53, 111, 120, 167–68, 206, 210–11, 213, 221–22, 225 Spartan, 19–20, 36–37, 152, 203–5, 210–11, 211n85 as subjects of political biography, 102–3, 106n45, 111n61 See also Agesilaus Lacedaemon. See Sparta

Laconia. See Sparta Lactantius, 62, 64–67, 69, 81–82, 159n53 largitio (largesse), 148–50, 153, 235 law, 199, 200, 212n87 Athenian, 156 givers of, 23, 102 Roman, 122, 125, 153, 181n30 rule of, 124–26, 140n25, 178 Theban, 177–84, 188 leadership, 59, 69, 138, 193, 194, 203n69, 237 Agesilaus and, 121, 131, 206–9, 211 basis of, in Nepos, 47–48, 110–11, 130–31, 204, 212–13, 234 Epaminondas and, 160, 172, 182n32, 186, 197, 200 Pelopidas and, 187, 190, 192, 195–96 threat of military, to a republic, 117, 128 Lemnos, 33, 37–39, 44 Leotychides, 203–5 Lesbia, 91 Leuctra, 165, 176n20 depiction of, by Nepos, 165–66, 172–74, 179–80, 185–87, 190–91, 194–95, 201, 218, 220, 226, 232 leve (the trivial), 101, 141–44, 157–61 liberty, 156 liberation from Persia, 50–51, 148 liberation from Sparta, 172–74, 179–88, 189n40, 190–201, 227–29 set in opposition to tyranny, 18n60, 115–17, 124–27, 137–39, 179–80, 234–37 Livius Andronicus, 148n39 Livy (Titus Livius), 33n96, 95n104, 124n82, 178n23, 181n30 Hannibal's Alpine crossing in, 40–44 role of exemplarity in, 54n138, 85n79, 129–31, 139, 151, 180n28, 211n83, 235–36

Lucretius, Titus, 3n8, 80 luxury, 89–90, 92–94, 95n104, 153n47, 221–23 Lysander, 116–17, 203, 204–5, 205–6nn71–72, 226 Lysis of Tarentum, 158–59, 166n7 Macedon, 19–20, 150–51, 153–54 See also Alexander of Macedon (the Great) Macrobius, 8n31, 61–62, 78n56 Mamurra, 90–94 Mantinea, 184–85, 186n36, 198n59 manuscript tradition of Nepos, 9n35, 12–13, 14n49, 15, 16, 18, 22, 29, 73, 86–90, 218n94 Marathon, 51, 148–49, 234–35 marriage of Agrippa and Pomponia, 14–15, 56–57 of Cimon and Elpinice, 142, 155–57 of Pelopidas, 185–86 Page 285 → Matius, Gaius, 91n96 Mela, Pomponius, 38n112, 88 Meneclides, 170–74, 181n29, 182 Messenia, 179–84, 190–91, 195 Miltiades (son of Cimon), 18, 155–56 elided with his uncle, 33, 34, 44 exemplary figure for Nepos, 148–52, 234–36 Lemnos and the Cyclades, 33, 37–39 Miltiades (son of Cypselus), 33, 34, 44 Minerva, 121, 147, 213, 214n90 modestia (restraint), 151–52, 210, 211–12n85 monarchs. See kings money. See wealth

monograph, historical, and political biography, 96, 99, 103–8 moralizing, 128, 132, 134n19, 186n37, 222n103 descriptive vs. protreptic, 131n9, 136n22, 198n58, 217n93 exemplary, 90, 144–47, 194, 207, 234 implicit vs. explicit, 136n22 in On Foreign Generals, 135–39, 141–47, 207, 230–31 mores, 13, 80, 95, 105, 122 biography and, 141–44, 164–66, 231 exempla and, 57, 87–88, 90–91, 93, 129–30, 133–34, 153n47, 226 mos maiorum, 27, 122, 141 relativism and, 154–61 Munatius Rufus, 107 music, 67, 101, 141–44, 157–61, 166 Mutina, 57n6, 75, 86–87, 93n102 Mycale, 33, 35, 44 Nemea River, 213n91 neoteric writers, 3n8, 4–5, 9n34, 79n62 Nepos, Cornelius, Agesilaus, 200–229 Atticus, relations with, 55–61 Catullus, relations with, 1–11 Cicero, relations with, 61–83 corpus of, 11–30 (see also Index Locorum) criticism of, rebutted, 30–54 Epaminondas, 163–88 Exempla, 83–95 exemplarity of, 128–63, 223–37 inventor of serial political biography, 96–114 Pelopidas, 189–200

readership of, 230–37 relativism of, 140–61 republicanism of, 114–27, 230–37 use of sources by, 163–229 (notes) neutrality, political, 63n27 of Atticus, 56–60, 75, 82n68, 117–18, 125–27 novelty. See innovation Numantia, 23 oaths, 83–85, 88, 90, 91, 148, 207, 211 Octavian (Caesar Augustus), 15, 59, 76n51, 89, 109, 129 Antony, relations with, 15, 29–30, 56–60, 68n34, 74, 79, 114, 125–26 Atticus, relations with, 14–15, 56–60, 68n34 drinking habits of, 86–87, 93n102 fortune of, 56–57, 63n27, 74n48 ideology and, 114, 117, 126, 236n9 Oedipus, 173 Olympic competitors, 2, 143 Onesicritus, 99n14, 106n44 Oppius, Gaius, 107 optimates, 59, 60, 75, 121, 236n9, 237 oratory, 6, 205 biographies of orators, 23, 102, 196 Caesar, Julius, and, 62 Cicero and, 71–74, 81 Epaminondas and, 165, 168–74, 179–86 exemplarity and, 84–86, 129 Orestes, 173 ostracism, 128n1, 153, 232 Otacilius Pitholaus, Manius, 22n68

Ovid, 148n39 Oxford Classical Dictionary (3rd ed., 1996), on Nepos, 25n76, 31–32 Oxford Latin Dictionary, 27n79, 38 Oxyrhynchus historian, 209n80 Page 286 → Panhellenism, 226n108 Papirius Paetus, 81n66 partisanship, 75, 123, 139, 193, 204, 216, 217 See also faction patientia (patience/endurance), 154, 221–22 of Epaminondas, 145, 165–66, 167, 175–84 patriotism, 150n42, 168–69n9, 227–29 of Agesilaus, 217, 220, 226n108, 227–29 of Cato the Elder, 13 of Epaminondas, 120, 168, 180, 183, 227–29 of Themistocles, 47–48 Pausanias (the Spartan commander), 131n9 Pausanias (the touring author), as a source to compare to Nepos, 163n1, 165n5, 166n7, 174n16, 176–77nn19–20, 178n23, 184n34, 185n35, 186n37, 198–99n60, 205n71 pedagogy, use of Nepos for, 230–31, 236 Pelopidas, Nepos on, 134–35, 144, 189–200 bravery of, 176 characterized as second to Epaminondas, 176–78, 190–92, 194–95, 198–99 civil war, attitude toward, 187–88, 191–92, 194–200, 227–29, 236–37 death and legacy of, 198–200, 227–29, 236–37 leadership of liberation of Thebes, 137–39, 144, 187–201, 227–28 marriage of, 185–86 Peloponnesian invasion by Epaminondas 176, 178n23, 182, 191n45, 218, 220n98 Peloponnesian War, 17, 203n68 Pericles, 110n58

Persia, 168, 198n60, 220 kings of, 19, 23–24, 39, 44–54, 111, 120, 221–22, 225 satrap of, 17, 19, 206 wars with, 17, 34, 44–54, 148–49, 150, 186n37, 226–27 See also Agesilaus: campaign in Asia Phanias of Eresus, 102 Philip II of Macedon, 19, 20n63, 153–54 Philistus, 22 philosophy biographies of philosophers, 23, 87, 98, 101, 104, 107, 109, 113 exemplarity and, 118, 155, 157–61, 166, 202–3, 232–34 Nepos on Cicero's style of, 73–74 Nepos vs. Cicero on the value of, 64–68, 69, 81–83, 95 Phocion, 28 Phoebidas, 192–93, 193–94n49 pietas, of Agesilaus, 115, 120–21, 140, 210–11, 214 Pilia (wife of Atticus), 157n52 Piso Frugi Calpurnianus, Marcus Pupius, 233 Plataea, 51, 148 Plato, 155, 159n53, 202n67 Pliny the Elder, 2n3, 59, 112n64 on Nepos and Catullus, 93–94 on Nepos and geography, 37–38, 88–90 on Varro, 108–9n53 Pliny the Younger, 2n3, 8n31, 15n51, 79–80 Plutarch on Agesilaus, 200n63, 201n64, 203n68, 205nn71–72, 206n75, 208n78, 209n80, 210n81, 211n82, 211n85, 212n86, 214n90, 215n91, 216n92, 217n93, 220n98, 221nn99–100, 222n103, 223n104, 224n105, 225n106 as biographer, 16–17, 39, 39n115, 54, 79n61, 97, 102–3, 111n61, 112n62, 130n8 on Epaminondas, 163n1, 164n3, 165n5, 166nn6–7, 167n8, 168n9, 171n13, 172n14, 173n15, 174n16,

176nn19–20, 177n21, 179nn26–27, Page 287 → 180n28, 181n29, 183n33, 184n34, 186n36, 188n38 erotica in, 157n32 exemplary virtue and vice in, 61n19, 129n5, 131n11, 132, 133n16, 140n26, 151n44, 183n33, 211n82 length of lives compared to Nepos, 16–17, 98n9, 132n14 as moralizer, 136n22, 145n36 Nepos' influence upon, 10, 13n45, 16n56, 23, 97n6 on Pelopidas, 189nn39–40, 189–90n42, 191–97nn44–56, 198–99nn60–63 Plato and, 159n53 political thought of, 189n39 programmatic passages of, 101, 134n19, 230 readership of, 231n3, 232n5 as source to be compared to Nepos, 35, 37, 53n137, 90n93, 107n50, 156n51 use of sources by, 54n139, 99n15 poetry of Nepos, 8, 79–80 political biography, genre of death of subject included, 14n48, 19, 101–2, 103, 164–66, 184–85, 190, 198–99, 225 definition of, 101–8, 119 Nepos' exemplary method and purpose within, 128–61, 162–229, 230–37 Nepos' invention of in serial form, 96–114, 126–27, 132, 163, 229 Nepos' republicanism in, 79, 114–27, 136–40, 147–52, 162–63, 227–37 presents one episode for many, 21, 40–44, 137–39, 167–70, 175–84, 210–17 privileges character and virtues of subject, 61, 64, 119, 130n8, 134–35, 153–54, 157–61, 164–66, 174, 180–84, 220–25 public and private treated in interactive way, 119–27, 160–61, 167, 171, 178–84, 193, 210–14, 221–25 relative to encomium, 96, 103–8, 132, 164n3, 202–3 relative to Hellenistic and/or intellectual biography, 96–114, 132n14 relative to history 33, 39–44, 44–54, 64, 100–114, 128–40, 144–53, 162–63, 189, 226n108 relative to philosophy, 64–68, 157–61, 232–37 relativism in, 140–61

trivial (leve) contents in, concern about, 101, 141–44, 157–61 political thought of Nepos. See republicanism of Nepos Polybius, 99–100n15 Hannibal's Alpine crossing, 40–44 Philopoemen, 103, 105, 106 source to be compared to Nepos, 22n69, 181n30, 184n34, 185n35, 193n49 source used by Nepos, 26–27, 34 Pompeius Magnus, Gnaeus (Pompey), 71n40, 91, 92, 94, 103, 118 Pomponia (daughter of Atticus), 14, 56 Pomponius Atticus. See Atticus, Titus Pomponius Pomponius Mela, 38n112, 88 Pomponius Rufus, 84n78 praise and blame, 103, 119n79, 128, 132, 133, 135, 139, 147n38, 161, 203, 226n108 preeminence, 195, 200 of Epaminondas, 157–61, 163–88, 190–92, 198–99, 201, 228 of Scipio, 124, 181n30 prejudice. See bias Priscian, 62 Probus, Aemilius, 12 Procles, 36–37, 203n69 programmatic passages in Catullus, 5 in Livy, 130n7 in Nepos, 100–101, 133–36, 141–44, 148–51, 157–61, 189, 230, 234–36 in Plutarch, 134n19, 230 prorogation of command, 177n21, 178n23 Page 288 → proscription lists, 74, 80 prudentia (prudence) of Atticus, 127

of Cicero, 75–79 of Epaminondas, 145, 167, 171 of Hannibal 26, 42, 145–46 of Themistocles, 50–51, 53 Ptolemy, 19, 21, 102 Punic. See Carthage Pyrrhus of Epirus, 19, 88n90 Pythagoreans, 158–59 quietism, 60, 75, 114, 118, 188n38 Quintilian, 13n45, 32n93, 62n24, 66n29, 71n40, 84n76, 85, 86n82, 94n103 readership of Nepos' works ancient, 20, 100–101, 110, 112–14, 129n4, 135–36, 140–44, 157–61, 226n108, 230–3 authorial guidance to, 6, 25–26, 44, 45–46, 51, 53, 65–66, 74, 93–94, 105, 118n75, 119–20, 123, 128–61, 164–66, 169–72, 174, 176, 178–84, 187–88, 189–200, 201, 203–5, 207, 212, 216–18, 224–37 ideal, 232n5 modern, 16, 20, 29, 31n88, 54, 67, 136, 230–31 relativism, cultural, in Nepos, 6–7, 24, 168, 227 in military practices, 150–51 moral and political exempla and, 140–61, 186n37, 234–37 nonpartisan, 146, 227–29 in political institutions, 148–53, 177n21, 211n85 Preface and, 140–44, 153–61 in religious practices, 147–48 Romanocentric, 151 relevance, of Nepos' political biography, to its contemporary audience, 30, 101, 114, 128–29, 151, 163, 229, 234–37 religion, 83, 91, 117, 147–48, 151, 191n54 religio of Agesilaus, 121, 201, 207, 213–14, 225 Republic, late Roman, 10, 11n40, 30, 54, 79n62, 107n51, 229 Nepos' views on, 60, 73–79, 81, 90–95, 114–15, 124–27, 128, 131, 139–40, 148–53, 234–37

republicanism of Nepos, 15n50, 30, 54, 54n139, 73–79, 90–95 in Atticus, 55–61, 117–27 in Cato, 123–25 in On Foreign Generals, 96, 110–14, 114–27, 130–32, 136–40, 148–53, 157, 160–61, 162–63, 227–29, 230–37 and preeminence in Epaminondas, 163–88 and resistance to tyranny in Pelopidas, 189–200 and respect for traditional limits in Agesilaus, 200–229 Roscius Amerinus, Sextus, 70–72 Rubicon River, 92, 236 Salamis, 48–51 Sallust, 103 Santra, 23, 108–9 Sardis, 209 Scipio Aemilianus, 23, 110 Scipio Africanus, 42n121, 110, 124–25, 181n30 scribae, 153–54 Scylax of Caryanda, 99n14 scytale, 232 senate, 15n51, 61, 79, 84, 91, 124, 181n30, 231n4, 234 Seneca, Lucius Annaeus (the Younger), 76n52, 129nn4–5, 140n26 separatim, 20–22 sex. See erotica Sicily, 17–18, 19, 102, 135–36, 138, 147 Silius Italicus, 42n121 Sisenna, Lucius Cornelius, 1n2 Socrates, 155, 167n8, 202–3 Sosius Senecio, 232n5 Page 289 → sources, use of, by Nepos, 7, 13, 27n79, 96, 132, 169–70

on Agesilaus, 200n63, 201n64, 202nn65–67, 203nn68–69, 204n70, 205nn71–72, 206nn73–77, 208nn78–79, 209n80, 210n81, 211nn82–85, 212nn86–87, 213nn88–89, 214n90, 215n91, 216n92, 217n93, 218nn94–95, 219nn96–97, 220n98, 221nn99–100, 222nn101–3, 223n104, 224n105, 225nn106–7, 226n108 on Epaminondas, 163n1, 164nn2–3, 165nn4–5, 166nn6–7, 167n8, 168n9, 170nn10–12, 171n13, 172n14, 173n15, 174nn16–17, 175n18, 176nn19–20, 177nn21–22, 178nn23–24, 179nn25–27, 180n28, 181nn29–30, 182nn31–32, 183n33, 184n34, 185n35, 186nn36–37, 188n38 faulted 31–32, 33–36, 45 Greek historians, 33n100, 109–10, 132, 162–63, 230 on Hannibal, 40–44, 41n119 on Pelopidas, 189nn39–42, 191nn43–45, 192nn46–47, 193nn48–49, 194n50, 195nn51–53, 196nn54–55, 197nn56–57, 198nn58–60, 199nn61–62 Thucydides on Themistocles, 44–54 Varro, 110, 111n61 Spain, 7, 42n121, 124 Sparta (and Lacedaemon and Laconia), 17, 18n58, 115–16, 137–39, 143, 168n9, 172–74, 176, 178–200, 200–229, 232 kings at, 19–20, 36–37, 111–12, 115–17, 120–21, 151–53, 203–5, 210–11, 211n65 See also Agesilaus; ephors Spinther, Publius Lentulus, 89–90 Stoa Poikile, 149, 235 strategy literary, 5n21, 72n43, 82n71, 169 military, 24–25, 51, 53, 172, 184n34, 195–96, 206n75, 209, 211, 213, 219–20, 225, 228 scholarly, 88 structure of Agesilaus, 221n100, 224 of Atticus, 61 of Epaminondas, 164–66 of On Foreign Generals, 17–18, 22–23 of Pelopidas, 189–92, 198 style, literary and narrative, of Nepos, 9–10, 32–33, 45n127, 46–54, 52n136, 61, 108, 133–39, 157–61, 163, 230 in Agesilaus, 202–5, 210–12, 216–20, 222–25

in Epaminondas, 163, 166n7, 167–70, 174, 176, 178–84, 185–86 in Pelopidas, 134–39, 189–92 Suetonius, 39n113 as biographer, 39, 39n115, 102–3, 107n51, 112n62, 119n78, 130n8 on Catullus and Caesar, 92–94 on erotica, 157n52 on exemplary virtue and vice, 132–33, 134n19, 139n24, 236n9 length of biographies compared to Nepos, 16, 98n9, 132n14 as model for Jerome, 73n73, 109 reference to Nepos by, 8n32, 22n68, 23, 62, 72n45, 86, 103n32 style of, 32 Sulla, Lucius Cornelius, 72, 89, 112, 118, 125, 237 Sulpicius Blitho, 26–27 Sulpicius Rufus, 66n29 summi viri (the “greatest men,” i.e., political men), 2–3, 60, 99n13, 101, 105, 108, 110, 113–14, 130, 133, 135, 141–44, 164n2, 190–91, 198, 203, 224, 233–34, 234n8 syncretism, 147–48 Syracuse, 19, 102, 135 Tachus, 222–23 Tacitus, 81n65, 104n39, 133n16 Page 290 → Tarentum, 89, 158–59 Tegyra, 191n45 terminal date of command, 177–84, 236 Thebes, 17, 18n58. See also Epaminondas; Pelopidas Themistocles, 18, 44–54, 102, 153 Theopompus, 34, 132n13, 202n65, 222n103, 223n4, 224n5, 226n108 Thrasybulus, 134, 195n51 Thucydides, 35, 102n23, 113 as source for Nepos, 33n100, 34, 52n136

on Themistocles, Nepos' use of, 44–54 Tiberius (Claudius Nero, successor to Augustus), 56, 84, 85n79 Timoleon, 18, 136n21 Timotheus, 18n58, 28, 134 Tiro, Marcus Tullius, 77, 107 Tissaphernes, 206–11, 214 titles, ancient, propriety of Chronica, 2n6 On Foreign Generals, 15n54 On Kings, 18 Transpadanes, 2, 6 triumviral Rome, 15, 30, 56, 57n6, 79, 87, 91n94, 112n62, 113–14, 117–18, 125–27, 140, 188n38, 226n108, 229 trivial, the. See leve truth, 48–49, 72n41, 100, 145–46, 154, 167 the biographer and, 39, 39n115, 40, 44, 145n36, 166 tyranny, 88n90, 102, 211n84 defined against Epaminondas' preeminence, 163–64, 171–72, 177–84 defined in opposition to liberty, 75, 115–17, 124–27, 135–39 Spartan, 173–74, 186–201, 226–29 value of violence against, 18n61, 186–201, 226–29, 236–37 Valerius Maximus, 32, 107n50, 184n34 generic relationship to Nepos, 61n19, 84–85, 90, 97n6 Varro, Marcus Terentius, 23, 32, 60n16, 97n6, 117 influence upon Nepos, 108–10, 111n61 Velleius Paterculus, 7n27, 32, 140n25 Vespasianus, Titus Flavius, 94n103 vice(s), 61n19, 63–64, 72n41, 76, 78, 127, 137–39, 151n44, 153n47 absence of, 167, 201 activities wrongly perceived as, 157–61

of Alcibiades, 155, 203 normative in exemplary contexts, 132–33, 140, 144–47 Vipsania (granddaughter of Atticus), 56 Virgil, 8n31, 79–80, 148 virtue(s), 70, 86, 127, 135n20, 231n1 of Agesilaus, 115–16, 200–229 of Alcibiades, 155, 203 of Atticus, 56, 61, 117–27 of Cato the Elder, 123–24 of Epaminondas, 21, 119–20, 141–44, 145, 157–61, 163–200, 227–29 happiness and, 64 literary, 5n20, 9n34 normative in exemplary contexts, 132–33, 140–61, 170n11, 234–37 of Pelopidas, 134–35, 137–39, 144, 176, 187–200, 227–29 of Romans, 25–26, 129n5 relation between public and private, 119–23 relativism and, 140–61 wealth, 66–67, 77n55, 87, 91, 93, 95n104, 115, 131, 166, 208–9, 220–21 Atticus and, 56–57, 60, 61n2 exemplarity of not valuing, 119–20, 167–70, 210–12, 220–25, 228 Nepos and, 61 women, 23, 87, 142–43, 185–86 Cornelia, 12–13 Elpinice, 142 Fulvia, 57n6 Pilia, 157n52 Page 291 → Pomponia, 14, 56 Vipsania, 14, 56

Xenophon Agesilaus as source for Nepos, 33n100, 36, 37, 109n56, 116n70, 152, 200n63, 201n64, 202n65, 202–3, 203n69, 205nn71–72, 206nn73–75, 206n77, 208nn78–79, 209n80, 210n81, 211n82–85, 212n86–87, 213n88, 214n90, 215n91, 216n92, 217n93, 218n94, 219n96, 221nn99–100, 222nn102–3, 225n107, 226n108 biography and, 101n20, 102, 103, 105, 108, 132 Hellenica as point of comparison to Nepos, 163n1, 165n5, 174n19, 184n34, 189n40, 192n46, 193nn48–49, 195nn51–52, 196n55, 197n56, 198nn59–60, 200n63, 205nn71–72, 206n73, 206n75, 206n77, 208n79, 209n80, 210n81, 211n85, 212n86, 213n88, 214n90, 215n91, 217n93, 218n95, 219nn96–97, 220n98, 222n103, 226n108 Xerxes, 19, 20, 35–37, 46–53, 213