5 (34). There are further points on Romulus’ side. For instance, where the death of Remus is concerned there remains some controversy over his actual killer, and in some versions the responsibility for his death is attributed to others and not to Romulus.13 What is not in doubt is how Romulus rescued his mother from certain death and how he restored his grandfather, who had endured a servile existence, bereft both of reputation and honour, to the throne of Aeneas.14 Romulus did him many additional kindnesses, all voluntarily, and did him no harm whatsoever, not even inadvertently. Theseus, by contrast, owing to forgetfulness and negligence regarding his father’s instructions about the sail,15 is in my view guilty of the crime of parricide, a verdict he could escape neither by way of an extended defence nor even through lenient jurors. There is, of course, a certain Athenian author who, because he perceives how very difficult a task it must be for anyone to try to defend Theseus in this matter, has concocted the story that, as the ship was approaching, Aegeus, anxious to catch sight of it, hastened up to the acropolis but stumbled and fell to his death16 – as if it could be the case that he lacked a royal escort or rushed down to the sea without a single servant.
6 (35). As for Theseus’ abductions of women, these are wrongs that cannot easily be excused. In the first place, there are so many of them. After all, he carried off Ariadne, Antiope, Anaxo of Troezen and, last of all, Helen, who at the time was not yet an adult but remained an immature child, whereas he was old and past any age for legitimate wedlock.17 The second objection to these actions lies in their motive, for he did not marry the daughters of the Troezenians or the Spartans or the Amazons, nor were they more worthy to be mothers of his children than the Athenian women who were descended from Erechtheus and Cecrops.18 Instead, one must suspect that he perpetrated these acts out of a passion for violence and sexual pleasure. Romulus presents a very different case. First of all, although he carried off nearly 800 women,19 he did not marry them all but only one, whom the sources name as Hersilia. The rest he distributed among the unmarried citizens. Second, in the respect, love and equity shown these women, Romulus made it clear that his action, for all that it was violent and illegal, had a very noble purpose and was designed for the political advantage of his community. For this was the means by which he joined and amalgamated two peoples with one another, thereby providing Rome with a source of future goodwill and might. And history bears witness to the modesty, affection and stability of Roman marriages,20 which he helped to establish. In the course of 230 years, there was not a single man who undertook to put away his wife, nor any woman her husband, and just as the most erudite of the Greeks can name the first parricide or matricide, so every Roman knows that Spurius Carvilius was the first to divorce his wife,21 which he justified on the grounds that she was barren.
The immediate consequences of Romulus’ actions join with the long record of history as witnesses in his behalf, for, after these marriages took place, the two kings22 shared in a common government and their two peoples shared in a common citizenship. The liaisons of Theseus, however, brought the Athenians nothing in the way of new friendships or alliances, but only hostility, wars and the deaths of their citizens. In the end, Aphidnae was captured, and it was only owing to the piety and compassion of the Athenians’ enemies, whom the Athenians reverenced and called upon as if they were gods, that they avoided the fate which Troy suffered on account of Alexander.23 Even the mother of Theseus was in danger and actually suffered the fate of Hecuba24 when she was forgotten and abandoned by her son, unless the story of her captivity is a fiction, and it may well be untrue, as are most of the other tales told about Theseus.25 Even in the matter of the myths regarding the intervention of the gods into their lives, there are significant differences between them. Romulus owed his salvation to the unmistakable goodwill of the gods, whereas the oracle given to Aegeus,26 which forbade his approaching any woman while he was in a foreign land, apparently makes it clear that the birth of Theseus was against the will of the gods.
NUMA
* * *
Introduction to Numa
Prince of Peace
Numa Pompilius was remembered for his wisdom and piety – and for his profound commitment to peace. He was a Sabine citizen of high repute who was offered the throne after the death of Romulus (the Romans believed, perhaps correctly, that their kings had been chosen by election). He instituted the ceremonies of Roman public religion, reformed the calendar and introduced changes to Rome’s social order, innovations that promoted social harmony and brought an end to the incessant warfare that had dominated the career of his predecessor. It was a golden age that never returned, not even in Plutarch’s day, when, as he puts it elsewhere, owing to Rome, ‘every war, Greek and barbarian, has vanished’ (Moralia 824c).
Although Numa’s life was less eventful than that of Romulus, he, too, attracted legends, most of which were efforts to explain his almost superhuman insight into religion and statecraft. It was commonly reported by early writers that Numa had been a student of Pythagoras, though by Cicero’s day the chronological impossibility of this had been made clear (Cicero, The Republic 2.28). Nevertheless, the opinion persisted, and a connection with Pythagoras, despite its lack of historicity, is actually Plutarch’s preferred explanation of the Roman’s wisdom. There was also a tale that the king had become the lover of a goddess, who, by way of a special brand of pillow talk, revealed to him truths about the gods – and who helped Numa to parley successfully even with an angry Jupiter. In the light of that story, one begins to understand why Plutarch preferred to look for philosophical influences on the Roman king.
Numa is paired with the legendary Spartan lawgiver, Lycurgus, whose constitution was widely admired in antiquity, not least by Plato, who in his Republic makes much use of it when discussing the principles and practicalities of an ideal society. For Plutarch, each man became king at a moment when his city was affected with a political and moral fever, a common theme he emphasizes by employing explicitly Platonic language in each Life.1 To each state its new king brought a tonic. Rome suffered from excessive belligerence, Sparta from decadence. Numa imposed philosophical religiosity, Lycurgus martial discipline. For each the result was an admirably well-ordered community characterized by justice. Plutarch plainly esteems both figures – there is little criticism or qualification in this pairing – but in their Comparison he makes the startling observation that, if it is true that Lycurgus was responsible for the Spartans’ harsh treatment of their serfs, ‘we must then concede that, as a lawgiver, Numa – far more than Lycurgus – conformed to Greek ideals’ (Comparison Lycurgus–Numa 1).
Numa’s standing as a venerable example of a truly good man was an enduring one. From Ennius through late antiquity, he is mentioned again and again.2 Even the emperor Hadrian, it seems, looked to Numa as a kind of predecessor.3 Only in the works of the Christian Fathers does Numa’s reputation take a change for the worse, understandably enough inasmuch as, in their view, he was responsible for inculcating false religious practices in Rome. And yet even in these writers there remains a grudging respect for Numa’s integrity.4 Plutarch’s admiration is unmistakable, and, like most ancient Greek intellectuals, he is perfectly comfortable with the idea that parts of Numa’s sacred legislation were more or less noble lies, the purpose of which was to introduce discipline and justice among the multitude (ch. 4). For him, that is simply another dimension of Numa’s wisdom.
War and political strife were the natural stuff of ancient history. The life of the peaceable Numa, however admirable, offered little in the way of narrative interest. This is why he is given such short shrift by Livy. Dionysius of Halicarnassus is, as always, more expansive, not least because he offers lengthy (and, for us, very useful) explanations of Numa’s institutional innovations. Plutarch, like Dionysius, is untroubled by the absence of exciting adventure in Numa’s life. It is in fact Numa’s concentration on study, reflection, good order and peace that constitutes the focus of Plutarch’s biography, because, i
n Plutarch’s view, Numa was the realization of Plato’s hopeful dream that the world would one day see a state governed by a philosopher-king.5 This is not a conclusion that requires subtle criticism on the part of the reader:
Numa was in any case an unmistakable example and a convincing proof of an opinion which, many generations later, Plato dared to express about the nature of government. For he insisted that respite and rescue from human ills would come only when, thanks to a stroke of good fortune sent by the gods, the power of a king should be joined in one person with the understanding of a philosopher.
(ch. 20)
Plutarch’s Numa comes very close to being the kind of philosopher-king described by Plato in his Laws or in book six of his Republic, a representation reinforced in this Life by an abundance of Platonic allusions. Numa possesses all the best virtues, especially philanthropia, the sense of civilized humanity, closely associated with Greek values, that Plutarch regarded as essential for moral perfection.6
It is sometimes objected that, in this pairing, Plutarch is in reality offering his reader a subtle critique of the Platonic ideals found in the Laws and Republic.7 Lycurgus’ constitution did not elevate Sparta to a state of philosophical perfection, nor, it is argued, could Rome have prospered or even survived under a pacifist king. Now there is no doubting Plutarch’s capacity for independent philosophizing, but, in this instance, he seems Platonic enough. After all, the deficiencies of the historical Sparta actually illustrate the need at the top for a philosopher-king and not simply military commanders, as Lycurgus’ successors proved mostly to be. And as for Numa, in Plutarch’s account he is no pacifist. He establishes the priestly college of the Fetiales not to banish the reality of war but rather to ensure its justice and thereby minimize its occurrence (ch. 12). Not that he required their services during his own reign, marked as it was by an unbroken peace:
This can be explained by the fact that it was not only the Roman people who were charmed and rendered peaceable by the justice and mildness of their king. The surrounding cities, as if a gentle zephyr were wafting from Rome, or a salubrious breeze, also began to change their habits, for all were filled with a desire to live in peace under good laws, to cultivate their lands, to rear their children in quiet and to honour the gods. Throughout Italy there were festivals and banquets, while everyone, whatever his city, made friendly visits to other cities, frequently and without fear.
(ch. 20)
Such, in Plutarch’s view, is the practical influence of a true philosopher-king.
Sources
In composing this Life, Plutarch largely relied on the same sources he used in writing Romulus. Although he corrects him more than once (evidence of his wide and independent reading), Plutarch plainly turned to Dionysius of Halicarnassus, whose account of Numa was more expansive than Livy’s, which he will also have consulted. Furthermore, he cites numerous other historians of early Rome, like Juba and Valerius Antias (see Introduction to Romulus) as well as Lucius Calpurnius Piso,8 the consul of 133 BC whose Annals (now lost) dealt with Roman history from its origins to his own day. It is clear that Plutarch has also exploited authorities on antiquarian and etymological learning, like Varro, and doubtless experts among his contemporaries (see Introduction to Romulus).
Life of Numa
[reigned 715–674 BC]
1. There persists a sharp controversy over the time at which King Numa lived, notwithstanding the existence of apparently accurate modern genealogies that, whatever their contemporary starting point, trace themselves back to Numa’s own time.1 A certain Clodius,2 however, in his Chronological Investigations (for that is the title he gave his book), argues vigorously that any ancient documents were lost when the city was sacked by the Celts3 and that such records as we now possess were counterfeited by authors seeking to gratify certain men wishing to push their way into the traditions of Rome’s foremost families and most illustrious houses,4 although in reality they had no right to be included. Consequently, despite the common report that Numa was a close friend of Pythagoras, there are others who insist that Numa had nothing in the way of a Greek education.5 Either he attained to virtue owing to his natural capacities and his own exertions, or the king received his education from a barbarian who was superior to Pythagoras.6 Other writers claim that Pythagoras in fact lived as many as five generations after Numa, but draw attention to another Pythagoras, a Spartan who won the sprint in the sixteenth Olympiad, which took place during the third year of Numa’s reign.7 Accordingly, it was this Pythagoras who, when he was travelling in Italy, became familiar with Numa and assisted him in putting the Romans’ constitution in order. This is why so many Spartan customs find a place in Roman society, for it was this Pythagoras who taught them to Numa. But then again, Numa was of Sabine origins, and the Sabines claim to be colonists from Sparta.8 Thus it is difficult to find exact dates for Numa’s life, and this is especially the case for any chronology based on the names of Olympic victors because that list was drawn up at a rather late date by Hippias of Elis,9 whose sources were by no means unquestionably reliable. As for me, I have chosen a natural beginning for relating what I have found to be the most noteworthy aspects of Numa’s life.10
2. Thirty-seven years had elapsed since Rome had been founded and Romulus had become its king. On the fifth day of the month, a day which the Romans now call the Capratine Nones,11 as Romulus was making a public sacrifice outside the city near the so-called Goat’s Marsh in the presence of the senate and a majority of the Roman people, there was suddenly a great change in the air, and a cloud, discharging blasts of wind and rain, fell upon the earth. The common people fled in fear and were dispersed, and Romulus vanished. When he could not be found, either alive or dead, hostile suspicions arose against the patricians and rumour was soon rife among the public, who were inclined to believe that, wearied of monarchy, the patricians had plotted to seize power for themselves and so had done away with the king. Nor had it escaped anyone’s notice that Romulus had lately behaved harshly, even imperiously, towards the patricians. In order to blunt these suspicions, the patricians paid divine honours to Romulus and attempted to persuade the people that he was not dead but had been elevated to a better condition. A distinguished man named Proculus went so far as to swear an oath that he had seen Romulus ascending into heaven in full panoply and had heard his voice commanding that he henceforth be named Quirinus.
Dissension and faction again gripped the city, however, over the appointment of a new king, for the more recent inhabitants had not yet been entirely integrated with Rome’s original citizens. Instead, the people continued in a state of agitation, while the patricians, animated by their mutual jealousies, remained divided. Although everyone agreed that there should be a new king, they disagreed and quarrelled, not only over which individual to choose but also over which community should be the one to furnish the new leader. The followers of Romulus who had been Rome’s original settlers could not abide the idea of the Sabines, who had been allowed to share in the city and its territories, forcing their way into a position of power over the very men who had admitted them. As for the Sabines, they too could advance a sound argument: after the death of their king, Tatius, they did not rebel against Romulus but permitted him to reign as the sole king, which is why they now insisted that the new king be selected from their number.12 Nor would they concede that, when they had joined themselves to the Romans, they had come as inferiors to their superiors, for it was their contribution to Rome’s numbers and strength that had advanced it to the status of a true city. It was on account of these issues, then, that the Romans were divided into factions.
The patricians, however, in order to keep the city’s factionalism from turning into complete disorder owing to a lack of government during this time of constitutional uncertainty, decided that each of them (there were 150 patricians13) should take a turn donning the insignia of the king, offering the customary sacrifices to the gods and managing state affairs for six hours each night and six hours each da
y. Confining each patrician’s tenure of power to these limits, so the leading men concluded, was the best means of promoting equality between the two factions. Furthermore, transferring power in this way would preclude any envy on the part of the people, when they observed the same man, in the course of a single day and night, first elevated to the status of a king and then returned to the rank of a private citizen.14 The Romans call this form of government an interregnum.
3. Although the patricians governed Rome with civility and moderation, they nonetheless remained the object of suspicion and complaint, for the public accused them of changing the state into an oligarchy and making themselves into guardians of the constitution solely in order to avoid being ruled by a king. Finally, the two factions agreed that the most effective means of ending their current strife was for one of them to appoint as king someone from the other’s membership. Any king elected in this way would be impartial, for he would be as fond of the party that chose him to be king as he would be friendly to the other owing to his kinship with them. When the Sabines left it to the original citizens of Rome to choose their option in this matter, they decided that it was better to have a Sabine king whom they had appointed themselves than to have a Roman king selected by the Sabines. After taking counsel among themselves, they elected Numa Pompilius, a Sabine who had not yet taken residence in the city of Rome but who enjoyed such a reputation for virtue that, when he was named, the Sabines accepted him with an enthusiasm even greater than that of his Roman electors. After this decision was announced to the people, ambassadors chosen from the leading figures in each faction were sent to Numa to entreat him to move to Rome and become its king.