A History of the Pyrrhic War

by Patrick Alan Kent

  There was a Decius too at the battle of Ausculum in 279 where the Romans fought Pyrrhus.7 The annalists showed little compunction about making sure events fit within their histories regardless of minor discrepancies. Some ancient sources claim that the Pyrrhic War Decius died after devoting himself to the gods, while others insist that he lived. Of course, none of this really mattered to the annalists. Their overarching historical narratives are not really affected by the specific stories of the Decii. The stories serve a superseding thematic and exemplary purpose that, in Roman eyes, justified its own existence. A Decius was at Ausculum, an important battle in a momentous war; he must have acted as other historical figures of that name supposedly had. The fact that he was probably not even a member of the same gens as those Decii at Veseris and Sentinum did not matter. The story of his at least attempted sacrifice was important, not its reality. There is no doubt that a Decius commanded at Ausculum, but his actions were elaborated upon by a (probably false) family trait in order to make the narrative more pleasing.

  While the Roman past was flexible to some degree, aristocratic competition kept things in some boundaries.8 Even when fleshing out their stories, the annalists were bound within a larger framework that often prevented them from crafting large-scale fabrications ex nihilo. Exaggerating the deeds of a consul during his time in office was one thing, but creating false consulships for ancestors was far more difficult and likely to be challenged by other interested parties. The fasti and other records served as a check as well. (The Augustan age would further solidify the central narrative of Roman history.) The result is a somewhat trustworthy overarching framework of the Roman past as events approached the third century. Of course further distance in time, the less reliable any information becomes, with the events of the early fourth century and before taking on a much more legendary quality reflective of oral tradition.

  Among the literary sources that survive concerning the Pyrrhic War, there is a basic framework of events that can be trusted within the grandiose and often fantastic events described.9 The war did occur, battles and negotiations took place, and many peoples of Italy and Sicily were involved. In addition, not all contradictions between sources are due to invention; some are in fact the result of differing historical traditions and can be evaluated in that light. For example, when Pyrrhus and the Romans were negotiating peace after the king’s victory at the battle of Heraclea, the sources present two proposals from Pyrrhus. The first is modest and not too demanding because, we are told, Pyrrhus was impressed by the Romans and wanted to be allies with them. He had come to realize the virtue of the Roman people and is portrayed more as a suppliant. The second characterization that is described by Appian and the Ineditum Vaticanum is harsh, indicating a less favorable tradition that survived into later periods.10 Appian gives a less positive image, undermining the constructed image of Pyrrhus as the misguided and regretful antagonist. Similarly, he complicates the start of the war, placing some blame from the naval attack by the Tarentines on the Romans for violating a past treaty that forbade them from sailing past the Lacinian Promontory. It seems unlikely that later Romans would invent a humiliating peace proposal from their enemy that they nearly accepted or a treaty that shifted some blame for the war to themselves.

  In the end, the events of the Pyrrhic War must be evaluated individually. A broad combination of source criticism, consideration of the literary themes that pervade the narrative, comparison with relevant numismatic and archaeological sources, as well as consideration of the geopolitical situation can penetrate the legendary nature of the war to some degree. Of course, a great deal is invented about the war, which is still useful in what it tells us about the way in which the Pyrrhic War entered the Roman imagination.

  With regards to the Pyrrhic War there are two major ancient historical traditions: the Roman and the Greek. The Greek tradition is the older, based on materials from the third century including the memoirs of Pyrrhus himself. But for the Greeks the war that took place in Italy and Sicily was little more than a digression in Pyrrhus’ audacious career. Instead they focused on his involvement in the conflicts of Greece and Macedonia in the aftermath of Alexander the Great’s death. It is the Roman tradition that focuses almost entirely on what became known as the Pyrrhic War, marking it as a pivotal moment when Rome became a great power in the Mediterranean. Attempts to evaluate the sources for the war in the tradition of Quellenforschung have met with little success, hampered by their often fragmentary nature.11

  The Greek tradition forms the basis for most of what is known about Pyrrhus himself. Pyrrhus led a rather spectacular life as a cousin of Alexander, interacting with many of the great men of the time in various political intrigues and generally proving troublesome in his ambitions to those around him. He was a notable character in an era of chaos that produced some of the most captivating individuals in Greek history. For the Greeks, Pyrrhus was also a tragic character. For all of his determination, he failed to accomplish anything lasting in his various projects, fascinating writers soon after his death. Pyrrhus, despite his genealogy and the portents of his youth, never lived up to his potential due to his own choices.12

  It was Hieronymus of Cardia, author of a history of the wars after Alexander’s death composed in the mid-third century BCE, who did much to establish the foundations for later characterizations of Pyrrhus and was a major source for Plutarch.13 In addition to first-hand testimony, he made use of Pyrrhus’ (now lost) memoirs.14 Hieronymus was strongly in favor of the Antigonids, who established a dynasty in Macedonia, and was generally hostile to Pyrrhus, who was often in conflict with Antigonus Gonatas. He portrayed Pyrrhus as an ambitious man who was never satisfied with what he had and so always strived for more, an embodiment of hubris. Those Greeks who came after, historians, poets, playwrights, and moralists, built upon this tragic flaw in their own works. But although the Greeks were quite taken with the story of Pyrrhus, his exploits in Italy and Sicily were largely secondary to events in Greece. Only Sicilian Greek historians such as Timaeus and Diodorus spent much time on Pyrrhus’ western exploits, portraying his efforts in the tradition of Greeks versus barbarians (Carthaginians in this instance). Timaeus’ history is lost, but served as a source for Diodorus’ own account of Sicilian history including Pyrrhus’ campaign.

  While some non-literary material also survives (primarily numismatic), it is the Roman literary tradition that is the basis for our knowledge of the Pyrrhic War. Roman writers made use of Greek works on Pyrrhus to various degrees, but the narrative of the conflict is very much a Roman creation that was not beholden to the Greek tradition. The Pyrrhic War was a significant episode for the historians of the Republican period, but little of this material survives directly. It would be Ennius, writing at the dawn of the second century, who fundamentally shaped the Roman conception of Pyrrhus and the war. He treated the Pyrrhic War in depth within his larger Annals, encompassing all of book six.15 Most importantly, he seems to be a foundational source in the mostly positive image of Pyrrhus in the Roman tradition.16 This characterization shaped subsequent interpretations of the king and in turn the war. Pyrrhus was the main antagonist, but he was not the villain. The subsequent annalists of the first century elaborated upon the war in great detail. It is from these sources that some of the more spectacular elements of the narrative stem, such as, but not limited to, the fixation on Pyrrhus’ elephants, the devotio of Decius, and the attempt by Pyrrhus’ doctor to poison him. What literary evidence survives down to the present day is often fragmentary and comes from the late first century BCE, some 250 years after the Pyrrhic War, and later.

  Only Plutarch’s Life of Pyrrhus, written in the early second century CE, survives intact, but he was more concerned with exploring Pyrrhus’ character and personality than the minutiae of historical reality. Plutarch tends to smooth out the complexities of his topics, leaving out what he considers unimportant details that are not easily integrated into his interpretations.17 Within the Pyrrhus, he made use of
Greek materials, but these are mostly employed to discuss events in Greece or expound upon Pyrrhus’ personality rather than dealing with his western campaigns. Despite these shortcomings, Plutarch’s narrative as the only complete one, serves as an invaluable outline of events that puts the rest of the scattered source materials in context.

  The relevant sections from the histories of Livy, Pompeius-Trogus, and Dio Cassius survive mostly in abbreviated and often confused epitomes (the Periochae, Justin, and Zonaras respectively). Livy’s work also formed the basis of the imperial era Livian tradition (e.g. Orosius, Florus, Eutropius, Eusebius, De Viris Illustribus), which was of variable quality but helps to preserve some of Livy’s ideas. Pompeius Trogus, via Justin, likely relied primarily on annalistic sources for the war.18 The Pyrrhic War was also mined for scattered tidbits by the compilers Valerius Maximus and Frontinus. In addition, significant fragments survive from the Late Republican era writer Dionysius as well as the imperial era writers Appian and Dio Cassius, all preserved thanks to Byzantine extracts.

  What survives to the present concerning the Pyrrhic War is a fragmentary collection of works three or four steps and centuries removed from the events they purport to describe. While major events like the negotiations or the battles are relatively well represented in the fragments, more mundane or minor events that occurred are often lost. As such, what survives are those major elements that were focused upon and thus ‘enhanced’ by Roman writers, overshadowing the reality of what they purport to describe.

  Modern consideration of the Pyrrhic War and its eponymous participant has been shaped by Pierre Lévêque’s Pyrrhos, published in 1957. Pyrrhus had certainly been an object of focus long before, but within broader works such as the Greek and Roman histories of Mommsen, Beloch, de Sanctis, and others. Lévêque’s study was remarkable in its expansive approach to Pyrrhus, incorporating a wide range of materials and approaches within a cohesive whole. He considered Pyrrhus within the context of his age and sought to establish a historically grounded biography of the king. Lévêque’s Pyrrhus is a man of unending ambition and impressive martial skill like his cousin Alexander, but inhibited by a more challenging set of foes (the Diadochi and Romans) that precluded any lasting accomplishments. No other biographical study has challenged Lévêque’s as the definitive work on Pyrrhus.19 There are two major issues with Lévêque’s Pyrrhos. The first is his tendency to focus on the great men of the ancient world, which dominated historical scholarship before the cultural turn. While a major driving force in the Pyrrhic War, there were many geopolitical factors at work within Italy and Sicily irrespective of the king. At the same time, the focus on Pyrrhus is a reflection of the Roman understanding of the war as a kind of duel between two antagonists rather than a multipolar regional conflict. The second issue is that Lévêque’s focus is on the character of Pyrrhus. To be sure the war that would bear his name is a major element of the work, but it is framed in a way that is meant to shed light on the king akin to Plutarch. Lévêque was, after all, writing a biography of the king, not a history of the war.

  Many aspects of the Pyrrhic War have been greatly expounded upon since Lévêque’s Pyrrhos, adding greater nuance to the subject.20 In the last few decades, scholars have added to our knowledge of numismatics, epigraphy, and archaeology. New methodologies and approaches to literary sources have greatly expanded the questions being asked and the information we can garner from a dimly lit moment in time. Perhaps most importantly has been the work done exploring the nuances of interaction among the peoples of Italy, Sicily, and the wider Mediterranean. As such, it is possible to place the Pyrrhic War to an unprecedented degree within the geopolitical context of Italy and Sicily in the early third century.

  The purpose of this study is to shift the focus from Pyrrhus as an individual and approach the war that bears his name through a broader lens, evaluating events in the context of the period. The war was not a duel between the Romans and Pyrrhus; it was a multipolar conflict that grew out of prior events in Italy and Sicily. Beyond Pyrrhus and Rome, the war must be approached with consideration of the Tarentines, Syracusans, and other western Greeks, the Samnites, Lucanians, and the peoples of Italy, as well as the Carthaginians and others. Each of these groups played their own distinctive role shaped by their own distinct objectives and considerations. The Pyrrhic War played a significant role in shaping the history of Rome and was, in turn, reshaped into a pivotal moment by later Roman historians who saw this as the burgeoning of their Mediterranean empire.

  The community of Rome

  Early Roman history is defined by the dynamic of individuals seeking personal glory within the greater collective community, which appears in the narrative of the Pyrrhic War as well. Although reproduced in multiple contexts, it is the story of Cincinnatus that best encapsulates this ideal. In 458, L. Quinctius Cincinnatus was approached by a group of senators, hailed as dictator, and asked to save Rome from an enemy that had already defeated the Romans in battle.21 Cincinnatus was at that moment personally working his farm, which Livy says amounted to only four iugera. His modest position, even though a patrician by birth, is a central tenet of every retelling of the story. Dionysius has him lament that his duties as dictator will affect his harvest and express a fear that his family would go hungry. Regardless of the burdens, Cincinnatus did not hesitate to take up the dictatorship and through his efforts rescue the Roman people from their enemies. Having accomplished the task set before him, Cincinnatus then laid down his power 16 days after he was appointed even though he was entitled to hold the most powerful position in the Republic for six months. Dionysius says that he turned down all offers of land, wealth, slaves, and gifts from both a grateful state and his personal friends, preferring to return to his humble farm. The tale of Cincinnatus’ dictatorship glorifies the ideals of community before self, honor before wealth, and modesty before selfish personal gain that later authors saw as lacking in the waning days of the Republic. He rejects ambitio in favor of concordia. 22

  The ideals represented by Cincinnatus and others of the early Republic are woven into the narrative of the Pyrrhic War. The Roman dialogue with their past meant that the past and present simultaneously shaped one another, reinforcing present idealistic virtues with past exempla and vice versa. It is not any individual Roman that defeats Pyrrhus, but the community as a whole. Every individual had a vital role to play, even down to the lowest soldiers. Pyrrhus is said to have remarked that he could conquer the world with an army of Romans, while Cineas described the Senate as a council of kings.23

  Individually, it is Fabricius and Decius Mus who embody the same ideas as Cincinnatus. C. Fabricius Luscinus was consul in 282 and 278, and P. Decius Mus in 279. Fabricius also served as an envoy to Pyrrhus. Dionysius in particular presents Fabricius as an echo of Cincinnatus, describing him as a man of humble wealth who prided himself on his public service.24 All citizens, Fabricius says in a speech to the king, had equal opportunities for honor within the community. What distinguishes Romans, he says, was their competition in duty rather than wealth. He thus ranks his standing in society by his magistracies without any shame in his relative poverty. It is this virtuousness that allows Fabricius to deny Pyrrhus’ offer of wealth and power in exchange for his assistance in the negotiations. So too this is a denial of the corrupting influence of luxury, recalling the complaints of Cato the Elder from the second century as he denigrated the negative impact of Greek culture in undermining traditional Roman values. Whereas Pyrrhus placed great store in his personal desires, it is the virtuous denial of personal ambitio by the leading men of Rome that would allow them to overcome their enemies in the end.

  Decius, for his part, quite literally devotes his life to the community of Rome. When commanding at the battle of Ausculum, he performed a ritual in which he dedicated himself and the enemy soldiers to the chthonic deities in exchange for victory. Not only does he serve as an exemplar for later generations (who could not agree on whether or not he died), but he also is de
picted as a continuation of tradition as his actions are linked (erroneously) with similar sacrifices by earlier Decii. The story also replicates the self-sacrifice of C. Mucius Scaevola, who, facing execution for his failed assassination attempt of Lars Porsena, burned off his own hand in a nearby brazier. In the words of one eminent philosopher, ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’ and here death was to be embraced for the good of all. No individual Roman was indispensable. In fact, the Roman concept that members of the same family shared the same traits meant that everyone was, fundamentally, replaceable. Decius Mus, consul and general, could die in battle but the community would continue, whereas their opponent, Pyrrhus, was unique. His death would effectively end the war, which made the attempt to kill him by Oblacus particularly riveting. This Roman characteristic allowed them to absorb horrific losses in their wars with the Samnites, Pyrrhus, and Hannibal, only to come out victorious.

  The stories attached to Fabricius and Decius Mus are of dedication and sacrifice of the individual addressed to the present through the voice of the past. Such tales, like that of Cincinnatus, reinforce the idealistic preeminence of the Roman community, which for later writers was the ultimate reason for Roman victory over Pyrrhus and many other enemies. Such characteristics were seen as lacking in the Late Republic as individuals like the Gracchi, Marius, Caesar, and others put their own personal interests first. It is impossible to imagine Cincinnatus or Fabricius choosing to march on Rome with an army of fellow citizens regardless of cause. At no point in the Pyrrhic War do any Romans succumb to the promise of personal gain at the cost of their fellow citizens. Fabricius rejects Pyrrhus’ offers, as do his fellow senators who were likewise offered magnificent gifts by Cineas during his diplomatic mission to Rome. Instead, the Romans stood together against all odds.