One notices the presence of this “structure’’ due to Appian especially in the first book of the Civil Wars, but not so much because it depends on the will of the author, as because it is imposed by the objective necessities required by the historical period covered in this book.
(Gabba 1956: 6)
I wish in a lively and provocative way to push forward the ongoing reevaluation of Appian’s Civil Wars by digressively contesting Gabba’s assertion (quoted above) that the structure of Book 1 (hereinafter BC 1) was imposed upon Appian by the ‘‘objective necessities’’ of his period. Gabba’s view is natural for anyone expecting to find and hoping to exploit objective facts in Appian’s account, but it is an enthymeme with an unstated premise: that Appian hoped to render a true, objective history. There are now detailed case studies of extended passages from the Civil Wars showing that Appian was capable of independently following his own programmatic goals to what he must have known would be the detriment of writing such an objective, true history (Steidle 1983; Gowing 1990a; Gargola 1997; Bucher 1997: 143-153, 177-203; Bucher 2005). These do not prove that Appian cared nothing for the truth: they merely curb us, on a principle analogous to falsus in uno falsus in omnibus, from presuming to discuss Appian’s work under a default assumption that he sought first and foremost to render an objectively true account. Nor is it proper to interpret (or confirm the objectivity of) Appian’s text by reading details garnered from other sources back into it (well discussed by Gargola 1997: 555-563).
Complicating aspects of Appian’s method of composition are: a tendency to compose portions of his work under the influence of a highly streamlined or simplified personal interpretation (Goldmann 1988: passim; Gowing 1990a; Price 1996: 245; Bucher 1997: 100-127); the fact that he used multiple sources (Magnino 1993: 524-526, 546-547); a propensity to mix material gathered directly from sources with material recollected from source reading and general knowledge which once again undermines any default assumption of factual accuracy in uncorroborated material (Luce 1958: 145-146; Brodersen 1988: 461-467; 1993: 356-359; Bucher 1997: 53-135; 2000: 436-442); and a ‘‘terminological indifference’’ (Hose’s term: 1994: 256) often reflecting an ignorance of the republican constitution, a drive to simplify complexities for a Greek audience, or both (Luce 1958: 110 and passim; Gowing 1992: 283-287; Brodersen 1993: 359-360; Bucher 2000: 438; contra: Famerie 1998: 32-36). Recognition of these has fundamentally changed our picture of what Appian achieved and how he went about achieving it. It is high time to drop the convenient simplifying assumption that Appian’s text somehow reflects our modern concern with factual accuracy: we need to step back first and evaluate him as a storyteller.
For example, we now know that one of Appian’s programmatic interests in writing the Civil Wars was to exploit the episodes of conflict - Appian usually calls them staseis (sing. stasis) - which characterized the dying republic as a tacit argument for monarchy by showing the risks of divided power (Bucher 2000: 433-437; cf. Gabba 1967: xxi-xxii). While Appian had no active desire I can discern to be inaccurate or dishonest, accuracy was not always his first priority, and as the studies cited above show, accuracy could be overridden by his programmatic concerns. Given the latter, it should occasion no surprise to find that Appian marshaled his data into a series of more or less discrete stasis-episodes which serve as case studies or rhetorical exempla which show how ‘‘democracy - an attractive word, but always inexpedient’’ (4.133.560) degenerated into widespread destruction. He thus had no reason to create a continuous narrative covering the period. BC 1 is a suitable place to begin such a demonstration since it is the most important book of the Civil Wars and exhibits Appian’s peculiar emphases in their purest form. By drawing attention to examples of artificial organizing principles in this portion of Appian’s work, I would hope to encourage further work on the macro - and microstructure of both the Civil Wars and the Roman History as a whole.
Here and there Appian needlessly numbers staseis in BC 1 a bit like a man unconsciously moving his lips while reading. Though this practice of half-conscious enumeration shows Appian thinking sequentially, it is (understandably) not a systematic one. To go further, one must look at how he selected and presented his stasis-episodes, a problem allied to the one of showing how the latter are discrete narrative objects which act as agglutinative centers to which surrounding text adheres as introductory or summary material (as opposed to reflecting an attempt at composing a full narrative covering the periods between the staseis as well).
Two passages provide direct evidence for Appian’s serial thinking: the preface to the Civil Wars and the conclusion of the stasis of Apuleius (Saturninus). In the preface, Appian uses an ordinal number to establish a clear beginning to a sequence (2.4): ‘‘This man [sc. Tiberius Gracchus] was the first to die in internal strife.’’ He avoids committing himself at such an early moment in composition to imposing definite numbers upon the other staseis he intends to cover in the Civil Wars (Bucher 2000: 420-422); he safely follows up with the assertion that after this beginning the state became a monarchy after ‘‘a variety of staseis"' (6.24).
At the conclusion of Saturninus’ stasis Appian calls it ‘‘the third, after the two of the Gracchi’’ (29.150), echoing his wording at the end of the account ‘‘of the second’’ Gracchan stasis (27.121). It is surprising that Appian should do our counting for us, but thanks to his odd authorial intrusions, we can see him clearly thinking in terms of a numbered sequence, even though explicit evidence ends here.
Even if Appian is counting out staseis, this doesn’t establish that he viewed all material in BC 1 as a part of individual staseis. This is an important distinction, because we know that Appian’s bridging or introductory material is especially unreliable (Bucher 1995: 405-410). Any search for material not directly connected with staseis at Rome must immediately turn up the Social War. If ever there were evidence that Appian wanted to offer a general history of the period (as opposed to focusing on staseis), this lengthy account of a hard war against non-Romans would be it. Given that Appian brought books of the Roman History covering individual theaters of action far down to the late republic (some even later), the Social War might better have fallen in his Italian History, or just possibly into his Samnite History (Cuff 1967: 188; Bucher 2000: 425-426): that it is here shows it was important to him. Appian, acutely conscious of the need to stay on-topic (cf. praef. 12.46-48, BC 5.1.2, 145.602), preemptively writes an apologetic justification explaining its inclusion (1.34.151):
As it died out, it [the Social War] gave rise to other staseis and more powerful factional leaders who no longer used legislative initiatives or demagoguery against one another, but full-blown military actions. I introduced it into this book for these reasons: having developed from a stasis in Rome, it also played out into another stasis far worse.
Even before proceeding to the main argument, it is worth noting that Appian views his compositional activity as jumping from one stasis to another, not as moving continuously through the history of the period. The passage’s first sentence adumbrates the conflicts centered on Sulla, with their sharp increase in violence and scale (cf. 60.269-270), setting the stage for the second sentence’s justification for the inclusion of the Social War: not only does Appian excuse the interruption, he also seeks to make the sudden jump in the severity of the staseis comprehensible.
Why should Appian care about a disjunction in severity in his tale of worsening troubles at Rome? If he were just relating events as they occurred with no personal investment in his own overarching scheme of presentation, why bother to enunciate an apology at all? We’ve never asked the question before because the default assumption has been that Appian included the Social War (and other material seemingly interstitial to stasis-episodes) out of loyalty to the idea of letting himself be guided by the objective facts of history (or some earlier author’s version thereof): Appian’s programmatic remarks were noted but not taken seriously (Cuff 1967: esp. 180 offers a sensitive analysis of the Social War's position within the program of BC 1 with which, however, I disagree on many issues). The answer must be that Appian cares not only about amassing staseis, but that he has imposed, cares about, and is proactive in maintaining an organizing principle among the staseis of BC 1, and, by extension, the Civil Wars.
The same concern to stay focused on staseis is evident in Appian’s treatment of the mysterious death of Scipio Aemilianus (17.73-20.85). Looking to us, perhaps, like historical material falling between the two Gracchan episodes, Appian himself explicitly viewed it as an appendix to the first of them (20.85): ‘‘and this, such as it was, came about as a sidelight (parergon) to the Gracchan stasis.” He has corraled the action, attaching Scipio’s death to Ti. Gracchus’ stasis by a chain of cause and effect. The result is a larger, though still unitary episode: the episode of Ti. Gracchus comprises all of the action to 20.85, even material falling after he has been ushered off stage (at 17.71-72).
Let’s look at the connection more closely. The passage (18.73-77) bridging the gap between Gracchus and Scipio is a carefully streamlined exposition of material selected to get us from the stasis of Gracchus specifically to Scipio’s activities. Appian names the land commission members, asserts that some possessors of public land had neglected to register it, records the commissioners’ inquiry into ownership, and finally states that there were a number of difficult cases (18.73-74). He then lays out a few typical situations of uncertain ownership, for example, due to lost documentation, concluding that the results of inquiry were ambiguous. Appian goes on to offer a catalogue of problems (18.75-77), which might reflect knowledge of the situation, but is also so schematically generic in mentioning the obvious that it might well be inference (that is, invention) on Appian’s part (Gabba 1967: 58 can offer no corroborating evidence for the list, for example): land developed by an owner turned out not to be his; land conquered in war had often not been precisely measured; people had aggravated the situation by confusingly working public land bordering their own. And so, the Italians decided to call in Scipio as a patron to protect their interests (19.78).
The whole passage efficiently establishes context for Scipio's intervention, tying it closely to the events of the Gracchan episode while supporting the mysterious death angle by rapidly sketching out a few exempla showing why emotions were running high enough in this business to feed suspicions of murder. In other words, Appian did not just call Scipio’s death a parergon to the Gracchan stasis, he carefully worked it as such into his narrative.
Appian's breaking up of the task of composing the Civil Wars into a series of discrete staseis does not exclude other forms of organization. Gargola’s (1997: 564-572) thesis that Appian linked the two Gracchan episodes by creating resonances between the passage introducing Tiberius’ stasis (7.26-10.38) and that concluding Gaius’ (27.121-124) is convincing and parallels the strategy (though not the technique) discussed above of linking Tiberius' stasis with Scipio's death.
Problematic in another way is the murder of Sempronius Asellio (54.232-239). It seems bathetic coming after the Social War and contradicts Appian’s claim (34.151) that the Social War developed from a stasis in Rome, and played out into another stasis far worse. The originating stasis is Drusus’, and the resulting, ‘‘far worse’’ one must be Sulpicius’, which led to Sulla’s march on Rome. Perhaps Appian viewed Asellio’s murder as a parergon to the Social War as Scipio's death was to the first Gracchan stasis. If so, he has made no explicit assertion that it was, nor, more significantly, has he logically connected Asellio's murder with the Social War the way he had linked Scipio’s death to the first Gracchan stasis. (Appian’s synchronistic remark, ‘‘in the same time,’’ is trivial, and his statement at 54.234 that debtors appealed to the ‘‘wars and staseis’ as an excuse to defer payment does not seriously attempt to show a causal relationship between the war and the murder.)
Here is a schema of Appian's narrative structure around the Social War:
Stasis of Saturninus (28.125-33.150).
Programmatic remarks I (34.150-151): Staseis grew worse after Social War (see above).
Stasis of Drusus (34.152-37.168).
Social War (38.169-53.232).
Stasis of Sempronius Asellio (54.232-239).
Programmatic remarks II (55.240): staseis worsened; the beginning of them was as follows.
Stasis of Sulpicius, Sulla’s march on Rome, Marian revenge (55.241-75.346).
Given the similarity of programmatic remarks I and II, and the fact that both sets look forward to the staseis surrounding Sulla, one notes that the disjunction and bathos mentioned above would be largely remedied were the Social War and programmatic remarks I absent. Then in fact we would have a mounting sequence of staseis with far fewer inconsistencies to resolve, like this:
Stasis of Saturninus (28.125-33.150).
Stasis of Drusus (34.152-37.168).
Stasis of Sempronius Asellio (54.232-239).
Programmatic remarks (55.240): staseis worsened; the beginning of them was as follows.
Stasis of Sulpicius, Sulla’s march on Rome, Marian revenge (55.241-75.346).
We know Appian was capable of altering his history on the fly without going back to remove items rendered contradictory or redundant by the new material (Bucher 2000: 428; 2005: passim), and the Social War (with programmatic remarks I) looks very much like material Appian added at a later moment to explain why the staseis grew far worse with Sulla.
But the explanation of a disjuncture and the elimination of bathos are not positive arguments that Appian had an overarching scheme which he disrupted. What is needed is to show how Appian suggests that the killing of the lone Asellio in fact represents a situation worse than the killing of Drusus. The answer lies not in the body count, but in the progressive failure of moral restraints on political infighting.
Atrocities committed in the heat of the moment:
Tiberius Gracchus: killed in unpremeditated violence raised by Scipio Nasica (16.68-17.72).
Gaius Gracchus: flees to the Aventine where he is attacked by the consul Opimius who uses armed irregulars; Gracchus commits suicide, Flaccus hunted down, arrested, and killed (26.114-120).
Saturninus: Saturninus and his companions (a quaestor, a tribune, and a praetor, ‘‘still dressed in the insignia of their office’’) killed by the mob (32.143-145).
Atrocities committed in cold blood:
Drusus: this skulking, premeditated, and cold-blooded assassination of a tribune in a dark portico is a far graver moral lapse than the failure of magistrates and the crowd to curb their killing anger in the earlier staseis (36.164).
Sempronius Asellio: the awe before both religion and office has broken down with the assassination of this praetor in the very act of sacrificing while dressed in religious garb. Drusus’ assassin, cold-blooded as he was, still hid from the light of day; Asellio’s boldly executed assassination occurs in broad daylight and the assassins lack the shame even to skulk in the shadows (54.232-239).
Even these necessarily brief summaries of the pertinent facts establish a clear pattern: each represents an increase in brazen shamelessness in Roman society and a progressive failure of the restraint of law, custom, and religion. From hot-tempered rioting we descend to ever bolder, more deliberate, and more politically expedient action. The road leading to Marius’ vengeful killings (71.325-74.342) and Sulla’s proscriptions (95.442-96.448) - both highlights in their section of the narrative - is open before us. Indeed, the path is clear to the Civil Wars’ largest single excursus, the detailed catalogue of the paradoxes and horrors of the triumviral proscriptions, which Appian explicitly connects to the earlier systematic killings (4.1.2-3; 4.16.62).
That such criteria were guiding Appian’s selection of material all along is clear: in the preface to the Civil Wars he characterized the limitation on conflict in earlier times by noting how disputants ‘‘yielded to one another with great respect’’ (1.1), contrasting that with the unruly violence and the ‘‘shameful despite for laws and justice’’ which prevailed later (2.5). One can trace them through Appian’s programmatic remarks discussed above and subsequently, at Sulla’s first capture of Rome (60.270: ‘‘for those struggling with one another, respect for the laws, the constitution, and one’s country no longer presented an impediment’’) and when Marius takes revenge for his flight (71.331: ‘‘there was no longer in these events any reverence for the gods, any sense of shame among men, or any fear of ill-will’’).
One final piece of evidence that Asellio’s murder fits into a crescendo of staseis: we can now explain Appian’s curiously precise stress on Asellio’s murder taking place ‘‘at about the second hour.. .in the middle of the forum’’ (84.238). The second hour, meaning ‘‘in broad daylight,’’ looks back and lends a reciprocal significance to the equally curious, over-precise detail that Drusus’ murder occurred ‘‘around evening’’ in a ‘‘shadowy portico.’’ Appian contrasts the stealthy nature of the first murder with the brazen openness of the second, showing an interesting cross-linking of staseis of the sort discussed above.
There are many ways one can build upon the bare beginning made here. One would be to analyze systematically Appian’s exploitation of streamlined pairs of terms such as ‘‘the rich’’ and ‘‘the poor’’ when he seeks to reduce the complexity of his stasis-narratives. Badian (1972: 707) long ago rightly saw this phenomenon as ‘‘a literary device of little use to the historian’’ (pace de Ste. Croix 1983: 359), but it’s time to give them a serious look as the literary devices they are. Another would be further literary analysis of the chapters introducing the Gracchan staseis to show (as I tried above for the death of Scipio Aemilianus) how they serve not the objective necessities of history, but rather the narrative necessities of the staseis they introduce and Appian’s overarching program.
FURTHER READING
(* = contains extensive earlier bibliography)
The standard Greek text is currently Mendelssohn and Viereck 1905. Carter’s (1996) translation is fresh but occasionally off, White’s (1913) staid but reliable. For extensive historical commentary, consult the Italian editions of BC 1 (*Gabba 1967), BC 3 (Magnino 1984), 4 (Magnino 1998), and 5 (Gabba 1970). There is currently no commentary on BC 2, though Bucher 1997 offers a partial commentary. German readers can consult Veh’s (1989) good translation of the Civil Wars (with introduction by Brodersen); Francophone readers have Combes-Dounous’ translations of BC 1 (1993) and 2 (1994), both fortified with good introductions.
*Gowing 1992 is required reading for English readers wishing a broad treatment of Appian and the Civil Wars. ANRW II.34.1 contains watershed articles on Appian, of which *Brodersen 1993 and *Magnino 1993 are important for the topics raised here. Goldmann 1988, a fundamental book which conclusively showed that Appian’s hand is continually evident in the composition of his history, was epoch-making in Appian studies. *Famerie 1998 usefully studied Appian’s linguistic habits, a book worth reading in conjunction with *Swain 1996 (the latter excellent, though too cursory on Appian).
Those interested in literary or historiographical study of the Civil Wars should also consult: Cuff 1967, 1983; Hahn 1968 (in Russian), 1970, 1982; Steidle 1983; Magnino 1983, 1998; VanderLeest 1988,1989; *Hose 1994; Brodersen 1988,1990; Gowing 1990a, 1992; Bucher 1995, *1997, *2000, 2005; Gargola 1997. The revolution in Appian studies parallels and draws strength from important studies of other hitherto underappreciated ancient authors such as Pelling 1979,1980 (Plutarch); Champlin 1980 (Fronto); Jones 1986 (Lucian); Sacks 1981 (Polybius); 1990 (Diodorus); and Mueller 2002 (Valerius Maximus).
World History
