Sulla’s dictatorship transformed Rome politically, socially, and physically.1 The changes which he imposed created winners as well as losers; but collectively the experience of his rule was traumatic, combining unprecedented violence directed at individuals with continuing uncertainty around fundamental citizen rights.2 The trauma persisted, in the transformation in the operation of the res publica, the Roman state, which was regularly repeated through the annual political cycle; in the reshaping of the fabric of the city, including Sulla’s self-memorialisation and the elimination of memorials to his chief rival Marius; and in the ongoing marginalisation of the descendants of his victims, not simply deprived of their property which had been transferred to new owners but also deprived of their citizen rights.

Using a new chronostratigraphic sequence for Eretria’s Hellenistic Pottery, this chapter revisits the four main destructions sustained by the city in the Hellenistic period and its phases or recovery.

Exhaustive archaeological assessment of the damage sustained by Athens during the Sullan siege of 86 B.C. and the city’s subsequent recovery in the Roman period.

Caesar’s famous leniency in dealing with his former enemies has frequently in modern times been interpreted as an assertion of lordly mastery, establishing a quasi-monarchic supremacy over the recipients of his pardon that trampled aristocratic, "republican" sensibilities. But as Konstan showed some time ago, "clemency was a virtue," and an unimpeachably republican one at that. The first systematic collection of actual instances of Caesar’s Civil War leniency shows that his enemies rushed to avail themselves of it in great numbers, and never refused it (Cato notwithstanding) when it was actually offered. Nor were its recipients tightly bound to Caesar in chains of reciprocity once they had availed themselves of his pardon: the record of "recidivists" who simply returned to the fight after being pardoned shows that any gratitude they felt lay very lightly on their shoulders. Caesar’s letter to his advisers after Corfinium shows that it was no thinl -veiled blueprint for regnumbut a plausible attempt to prevent the catastrophe of civil war if possible and to minimize bloodshed if not, and in any case, to further restoration of a deeply divided community.

Caesar, a patrician war hero already from his youth, followed the model of the Scipiones in the combination of a patrician pedigree with a "popular" political stance and the pursuit of military glory. Despite his family connection, he was no "Marian" in the strong sense of reviving and refighting the battles of the 80s. By the time of his entry in 63 on the highest stage of politics, he was known as a popularis of a particular sort: one exceptionally skilled at cultivating the support of the Roman People but not a demagogue or even a significant player in the classic popularis proposals for land redistribution, debt relief, or the like. Caesar’s reputation for "largesse" does not seem to have exceeded the norms of his day, or perhaps even what many of his contemporaries considered to be mere necessity. The best evidence suggests that his objective at this time was, as Sallust writes, to obtain "a great command, an army, a new war in which his excellence could shine forth." But that path lay through the Senate. Like many aristocrats Caesar did not shy away from a feud with a powerful figure (Q. Catulus), but that did not put him at odds with the aristocracy as a whole.

This chapter looks at cases where those subject to Roman hegemony attempted to throw off Roman control and also where the power of individuals within the state became so contested that it threatened the constitutional integrity of the republic.In the first half coin evidence is used to look at South Italian communities that sided with Hannibal during the Second Punic War, uprisings of enslaved peoples and Roman responses, and the failed attempt by Rome’s former Italian allies to set up a rival federal state.The second half examines what numismatic evidence can tell us about the autocratic ambitions of Marius, Sulla, and Pompey and ends with a close look at how Sulla’s memory was used during the period of Pompey’s ascendency.

Montesquieu assesses Roman politics, philosophy, and religion. He explains in his Dissertation on Roman Politics in Religion (1716) that the Roman republic was designed by Romulus and the early kings of Rome as a theocracy. The goal of Roman paganism was “to inspire fear of the gods in a people who feared nothing, and to make use of that fear to lead them in any way they wished.” In his Discourse on Cicero (1717) Montesquieu expresses unstinting admiration for Cicero both as a statesman and a philosopher, asserting that Cicero’s De Officiis teaches us “what is honorable and beneficial, what we owe to society, what we owe to ourselves, and what we should do as heads of families or as citizens.” In his Dialogue between Sulla and Eucrates (1724) he assesses the conduct of the Roman general and dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla, observing that he had shown how deadly heroism can be, even when based on sound principle, such as Sulla’s desire to restore the powers of the Roman senate. “For one man to be above humanity,” Montesquieu concludes, all the others pay too dear a price.” Sulla marked out a path toward tyranny that Caesar would surely follow.