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THE FAMILY TRADITIONS OF THE GENS MARCIA BETWEEN THE FOURTH AND THIRD CENTURIES b.c.

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  20 May 2021

Davide Morelli
Davide Morelli*
Affiliation:
‘Sapienza’—Università di Roma
*
davide.morelli91@gmail.com
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Abstract

In the mid fourth century b.c. some Roman gentes drew on a Pythagorean tradition. In this tradition, Numa's role of Pythagoras’ disciple connected Rome (and the gentes) with Greek elites and culture. The Marcii, between 304 and 300 b.c., used Numa's figure, recently reshaped by the Aemilii and the Pinarii for their propaganda, to promote the need for a plebeian pontificate. After the approval of the Ogulnium plebiscite (300 b.c.), the needs for this kind of propaganda fell away. When Marcius Censorinus became censor, Numa's pontificate was no longer relevant for promoting the gens. For this reason, the Marcii used another genealogy for similar propagandistic effect: the figure of Marsyas, a symbol of plebeian ideals.

Keywords

gens MarciaMarsyassymbolic capitalRoman propagandaRoman politicsRoman tradition
Type
Research Article
Information
The Classical Quarterly , Volume 71 , Issue 1 , May 2021 , pp. 189 - 199
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Copyright
Copyright © The Author(s), 2021. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Classical Association

Rome, during the Mid Republic, was a very difficult political arena to master. The nobiles struggled to compete against each other for magistracies and to acquire pre-eminence over their peers. Victory could be achieved in several ways, amongst which the use of lineage, the history of the gens, was among the most important. In Pierre Bourdieu's words, it was part of their ‘symbolic capital’, a group of characteristics that made every gens unique. By recalling the ancient origins and merits of the gens, the candidate strengthened his claims on magistracies and/or priesthoods. This constituted an early form of what we could cautiously call ‘familiar propaganda’, with all the caveats that this term brings with it.Footnote 1 Specifically, it is very difficult to identify and define ancient Roman propaganda in Mid Republican times, since the few certain proofs of this practice usually come from Late Republican coinage.Footnote 2

K.-J. Hölkeskamp thoroughly examined the subject.Footnote 3 Many clues tell us that mythical origins were, as expected, an active part in this process as well.Footnote 4 By connecting their families with mythical figures, the Romans used them in order to reinforce their political role: between the fourth and third centuries b.c. the Marcii seem to have done so.

I will henceforth describe how the gens Marcia used its traditions for more than one goal between the fourth and third centuries b.c. A first tradition is about King Numa and involves Roman history in a genealogical perspective. A second is about the relationship between the Marcii and Marsyas. Defining the use of these traditions in the late fourth- and early third-century b.c. political debate will better reveal the reasons that led to their formation.

THE MARCII AND NUMA

Five Roman gentes traced their genealogy back to King Numa Pompilius: the gentes Aemilia, Pinaria, Calpurnia, Pomponia and Marcia.Footnote 5

Modern scholarsFootnote 6 have examined these traditions and established some conclusions with a reasonable degree of confidence. The first gentes claiming to descend from Numa were probably the Aemilii and the Pinarii. Some sources provide an etymological explanation for their names, which is an important clue to determine the antiquity of these traditions. Specifically, Plutarch states about the gens Aemilia:

… that the first of them, and the one who gave his surname to the family, was Mamercus, a son of Pythagoras the philosopher, who received the surname of Aemilius for the grace and charm of his discourse [αἰμυλία], is the statement of some of those writers who hold that Pythagoras was the educator of Numa the king. (transl. B. Perrin)Footnote 7

SchwarzeFootnote 8 already noticed that a similar description was contained in Paul the Deacon's excerptum of Festus’ De significatione uerborum,Footnote 9 an epitome of the larger work by Verrius Flaccus.Footnote 10

Mamercus’ name becomes a cognomen in the family branches of the Pinarii and the Aemilii ‘Mamercini’, who held important magistracies between the fifth and fourth centuries b.c. before disappearing towards the end of the century.Footnote 11 This led many scholars to think that these two families were the most ancient to connect their name and genealogy with Pythagoras, the ‘Italian philosopher’, through Numa.Footnote 12 This claim would have constituted a strong basis on which to build political relations with Western Greek elites, who were deeply involved in Pythagorean culture and philosophy.

As for the Pomponii and the Calpurnii, their entrance on the Roman political stage happened later. The Calpurnii made their political appearance in the first half of the third century b.c. and they only sporadically held magistracies until the second century. A few members of the gens Pomponia were active in the fifth and fourth centuries b.c., but they did not hold any high office until the end of the third century. It is probable that they added their families to an already existing tradition. Establishing a precise chronology, however, remains difficult.Footnote 13 Evidence about their inclusion in Numa's lineage can be found, as previously stated, in Plutarch: these gentes are mentioned, together with the Aemilii (‘Mamerci’) and the Pinarii, as descendants of the king's four sons, Pompus, Calpus, Pinus and Mamercus.Footnote 14

The tradition of the Marcii, on the other hand, has probably nothing to do with Pythagoras.Footnote 15 Their Numan genealogy originated in connection with political-religious institutions, when the plebeians started to have access to the pontificate.Footnote 16 The same sources suggest this, starting with the presence of the Marcii in the earliest period of the Roman monarchy. According to both Livy and Plutarch, Numa Marcius was a friend of Numa Pompilius. Or rather, he was the man who persuaded him to accept the crown. The sources report significant variations, which are worth recalling.

In Livy, Marcius is Marci filius. This can be translated as either ‘son of Marcus’ or ‘son of Marcius’.Footnote 17 In this case, the literary use of the unabbreviated patronymicFootnote 18 tips the scale towards the first meaning, thus giving a praenomen to Numa Marcius’ father.Footnote 19 Numa Pompilius would have appointed Numa Marcius (the father) senator as a sign of honour;Footnote 20 then, he would have co-opted him as pontifex.Footnote 21 For Plutarch, eventually, ‘everybody agrees’Footnote 22 that Pompilia, Numa's daughter, would have married Numa Marcius’ son. He calls Marcius (the father) συγγενήςFootnote 23 when Numa takes the throne. It is possible that, according to the tradition, when Numa Pompilius became king, his daughter and Numa Marcius’ son were already married, or at least engaged. Then, according to Tacitus, Tullus Hostilius appointed Numa Marcius (the son) praefectus Vrbi.Footnote 24 The son of Pompilia and Numa Marcius will be Ancus Marcius, the future king. According to the tradition reconstructed from the sources, this is the family tree for the known Marcii of the regal period:

Doubts on whether the Marcii of the regal period were considered patricians or plebeians, and on their characterization in the ancient sources, are legitimate. Considering both the close kinship with King Numa and the kingship of Ancus, the gens was probably patrician. Plutarch calls Coriolanus’ family Μαρκίων οἶκος […] τῶν πατρικίων, and states that it was the same as the monarchic and Republican Marcii (those, for example, of the aqua Marcia: Plut. Cor. 1.1). At the same time, both the Marcii Rutili (such as C. Marcius Rutilus Censorinus) and the Marcii Reges were plebeian families. For the Rutili in particular, C. Marcius Rutilus’ appointment as dictator and, then, as censor had a wide resonance, as he was the first plebeian to gain access to these magistracies.Footnote 25 Other members of the Marcian family became tribunes of the plebs during the Mid Republican period.Footnote 26 There is therefore an ancient tradition of both a patrician and a plebeian branch of the same gens. Footnote 27 The patrician lineage vanished early, so that the plebeian one freely claimed descent from the Marcii of the Regal period.Footnote 28

The Marcian family would not have been the first plebeian gens (or so considered in the fourth century) to assume the pontificate, but it was the first to count a pontifex maximus, Numa Marcius, among its members,Footnote 29 under the ‘protection’ of Numa Pompilius, the most ancient and respected Roman religious authority.

THE MARCII AND MARSYAS

The Marcii had a further tradition. They linked themselves to Marsyas, the satyr punished by Apollo for his hybris. L. Marcius Censorinus, moneyer in 82 b.c., coined a denarius representing a statue of Marsyas in the Roman Forum.Footnote 30 Another Marcian moneyer had also coined also a series with the iconography of Numa and Ancus Marcius, indicating that both traditions were still alive during the Late Republic.Footnote 31

First, we must notice that ancient sources do not clearly establish the nature of the relationship between Marsyas and the Marcii. The date of this tradition and the association between the satyr and the gens are neither clear nor certain. Many scholars have tried to define these elements.

As for the origin of this tradition, it is known that some colonies seem to have copied the statue of Marsyas in the Forum. A famous witness is the Paestum copy of this artwork, dated not too long after the foundation of the colony (273 b.c.);Footnote 32 this year constitutes therefore a terminus ante quem for the erection of the statue in the Roman Forum. By extension, we may infer that the tradition that linked Marsyas and the Marcii was born around this period. This argument is still debated, but there is no compelling reason to think of a different date for both the statue and the Marcian tradition.

Defining the meaning of this tradition is much more complex. The statue, with shackles but without chains, suggests an interpretation linked to the concept of libertas, traditionally associated with the satyr.Footnote 33 Valentina Arena, however, has recently questioned this association: according to her, Marsyas became a symbol of libertas only in modern reconstructions based on late antique witnesses. Earlier sources did not mention libertas with Marsyas, and this association certainly did not exist during the Mid and the Late Republic. Marsyas was, instead, a figure associated with the iconography of the Sun.Footnote 34

Moreover, ‘Marcius’ and ‘Marsyas’ sounded very similar. This is another possible reason for believing that Marsyas could be associated with the Marcii. Michael Crawford assumes that this is the correct interpretation,Footnote 35 but it does not seem to be enough to justify any kinship. Surely, if the name had been the only link between Marsyas and the Marcii, there would have been no reason to represent him in chains as the coins (and the statue) did.

Finally, Daniele Miano recently advanced the hypothesis that there was an association between Marsyas and the augurate.Footnote 36 This would fit well with the character of C. Marcius Censorinus, who became augur a short time after the plebiscitum Ogulnium, which allowed the plebeians to become pontifices in 300 b.c.Footnote 37 This plebiscite passed with almost no opposition from the patricians, adsueti iam in tali genere certaminum uinci, ‘used to be defeated in this kind of quarrels’.Footnote 38 Moreover, Miano rightly stated that there is no reason to consider Marsyas as a progenitor of the Marcii, as some scholars did, and that the resemblance of the names ‘Marsyas’ and ‘Marcius’, again, is not enough to justify any connection.Footnote 39 These are compelling arguments: the sources do not explicitly state any kinship between Marsyas and Roman gentes, and similar-sounding names alone are not enough to explain any connection with mythical figures. Moreover, as Miano stated, it is likely that such a statue constituted some sort of political symbol rather than a mere reference to the gentilician name.

Mario Torelli and Filippo Coarelli linked Marsyas’ statue to the censorship of C. Marcius Censorinus in 294 b.c. This date would fit well with the Paestum statue, and it is close to the date of Censorinus’ augurate.Footnote 40 Whether the connection between Marsyas and the Marcii is connected to the augurate or not, however, the most likely date for the statue remains the beginning of the third century. The link between the artwork and the Marcii is certain, if a Marcius could still mint a coin with the representation of this statue in the first century.

As for its general meaning, we can only speculate: Marsyas was certainly a victim, ‘persecuted’ by a higher power (in his case, Apollo). Even if we do not consider the aspect of libertas, in fact, Marsyas was certainly considered at least a ‘hero’ by the poor people and, by extension, by the plebeians: he was a talented satyr punished by the Olympian gods for his insolence but also for his unquestionable talent. We can assume that the tradition about Marsyas represented something similar (underlining again that this interpretation is a hypothetical reconstruction). However, the Marsyas in the Forum was clearly a free man. Setting libertas aside, Marsyas must have been at least a symbol of the oppressed people, which brings us back to the condition of the plebs.Footnote 41 As Miano said, there is no need to look for a connection with either the myth or its details: Marsyas’ figure is understandable even if conceived ‘merely’ as a political symbol.

One should also understand why the sources forgot this symbol. The easiest explanation is that the process of formation of the patrician-plebeian nobilitas drew to a close very soon after the placement of the statue. Livy himself specifies that the plebiscitum Ogulnium passed with no significant opposition from the patricians; in 287 b.c., only thirteen years after the plebiscitum, the lex Hortensia brought to an end the conflict of the orders.

The Marcii were one of the most powerful plebeian gentes in the early third century; they exploited every opportunity to underline their role within the nobilitas. C. Marcius Rutilus was the first plebeian to become both dictator and censor, and this was an undeniable achievement of his gens. These two aspects can relate to each other: if Valentina Arena is right, any link with libertas in Marsyas’ figure is difficult to interpret, but there are no difficulties in considering it a symbol of the oppressed people and a symbol of the plebeians as victims of the patricians, at least in a propagandistic point of view. Considering Marsyas in this way could surely help in looking for a connection between his figure, his statue and the gens Marcia.

MARCIAN TRADITIONS IN CONTEXT

This leads to some considerations. The Numan Marcian tradition is almost opposite to the Aemilian-Pinarian one. In the first version, Numa had only one daughter. In the second, he also had four sons. This divergence of the traditions about Numa's lineage was already noted in ancient times, as one can see in the multiple versions that Plutarch reports. Second, as we said, the Aemilii and the Pinarii emphasized the Pythagorean aspect of their genealogy for political reasons (related to the first official political contacts with Magna Graecia, after 343 b.c.).Footnote 42 The Marcian tradition, by consequence, would probably be a later one: the Marcii took advantage of Numa's revived prestige. These gentes would have revived the king's character in different perspectives, which could be more useful for them in their propaganda. In the end, the struggles concerning the plebeian pontificate—well linked to the Numan ‘pontifical’ tradition of the Marcii—took place not long before 300 b.c., the year in which the plebiscitum Ogulnium passed and the plebeians obtained the possibility of becoming pontifices. As previously mentioned, the plebiscite passed with almost no opposition.

Therefore, it is likely that the plebeian nobilitas started discussing their ambitions to become pontiffs not long before 300 b.c. and that, around this year, they initiated political action to obtain this right.

As terminus post quem the year 304 b.c. is plausible for two main reasons. This is the year in which the Samnite War ended, which probably reopened some struggles that the ‘political groups’Footnote 43 set aside during the war, defending their common interests.Footnote 44 Once the war finished, it is not surprising if at least some internal conflicts started again on these themes.

The second reason is that in 304 b.c. Cn. Flavius became curule aedile. Flavius was Ap. Claudius Caecus’ former scribe and, obviously, a plebeian.Footnote 45 This election caused an unprecedented scandal, mostly relating to his actions within the religious sphere. Flavius published, in fact, the pontifical arcana, then consecrated a temple to Concordia in the Vulcanal without being a pontiff and therefore forcing the pontifex maximus, Scipio Barbatus,

to suggest the ritual words, even though he stated that, according to the mos maiorum, no one could dedicate a temple without being either consul or imperator.Footnote 46

It seems likely that this series of deeds would have stirred up political debate concerning the sacra and, more specifically, the relationship between pontificate and plebs. For these reasons, the year 304 b.c. can probably assume this role of terminus post quem for the origin of this ‘pontifical’ tradition.Footnote 47

There are, however, other considerations to make about the propaganda of the Numan gentes. If it dates back to the second half of the fourth century, and if the Marcii, years later, used Numa's figure for their own propaganda while untying it from Pythagoreanism, the following can be inferred:

  • 1) Numa's figure was the key element of Aemilio-Pinarian propaganda in Rome. This propaganda was very successful, even if it included the public display of Pythagorean tendencies (as seen, for example, in the erection of Pythagoras’ and Alcibiades’ statues in the Forum).Footnote 48

  • 2) Marcian propaganda was based on the lineage from Numa through the female line, the only line that was certain. The Marcii, by consequence, in the Numan tradition placed themselves in a stronger position than the Aemilii and the Pinarii. The latter gentes descended from Numa's sons, whose tradition was still considered uncertain centuries later.

  • 3) The cornerstone of the matter is the meaning both sides gave to Numa's figure. The ‘Pythagorean Numa’ represented the cultural connection between the aristocracies of Magna Graecia and the Roman gentes. The ‘pontifical Numa’ embodied the relationship between the Roman plebeian nobilitas and the pontificate. From this perspective, the Romans clearly appreciated Numa's figure, and for good reasons: many propagandistic uses of Numa's figure can be seen throughout Republican and Early Imperial history.Footnote 49

There is another possible solution for this Numan Marcian tradition: the Marcii might have been willing to compete for the pontificate after, and because of, the approval of the plebiscitum Ogulnium. Therefore, the argument should be reversed: their Numan tradition (and propaganda) would have seen its birth in 300 b.c. or a short while later in order to obtain the pontificate. Popular appreciation of Numa's figure and the vitality of Numan propaganda would have remained the same: these few years would not make any difference. In this case, however, this tradition would become a purely familial propaganda, and not a measure to promote a lex for the benefit of the plebeians.

The strongest objection against this interpretation comes from the other Marcian tradition. As previously stated, Marcius Censorinus probably erected Marsyas’ statue in order to advertise his familiar tradition as a plebeian when he became censor. If so, it would be hard to think that the two traditions coexisted: the result is, from a propagandistic point of view, at least confusing.Footnote 50 These two traditions must have been established at different times, possibly with a few years of distance which would have certainly helped. This reinforces the dating of the Numan tradition before 300 b.c. and the onset of the Marsyas tradition some years after that date. Moreover, the Numan tradition made the Marcii the first plebeian gens to obtain the highest priesthood, while the Marsyas tradition appears to be a more generic instance of plebeian propaganda. Since priesthood was the central point of the discussion of the Ogulnian plebiscite, Marsyas and plebeian ideals constituted a weaker argument than a Numan tradition would have. The same Numan tradition would have had nothing to do with the electoral competition for the censorship. On the contrary, using Marsyas to revive the ideal of the free men within the plebs would have been an effective political strategy. Another example of ‘plebeian sculpture’ was the Ogulnian she-wolf, probably erected with a similar purpose in the same period.Footnote 51

If Marsyas’ statue had been erected in order to promote Censorinus’ role (or candidature) as augur, we could equally see the differentiation of two traditions for different purposes. The first, with Numa, would have supported the approval of the plebiscitum Ogulnium (or, more generally, the plebeian access to the priesthood). The second, after the plebiscitum, aimed to promote the Marcii and plebeian ideals. As for the role of the Marcii as augurs, this interpretation relies on weaker bases, since Marsyas as a symbol of the augurate is a debated interpretation. The theory that sees Marsyas as a general symbol for the plebeians still seems more probable.

The Marcian Numan tradition came into being between 304 and 300 b.c. and was quickly abandoned once the plebiscitum Ogulnium passed. After a few years, with the candidature of C. Marcius for the censorship, the Marcii decided to use another means of propaganda, more suitable for promoting the importance of plebeians in Roman politics: their association with Marsyas.

CONCLUSIONS

The ‘symbolic capital’ of a gens included many different elements. The Marcii had precise political aims in creating these traditions, which none the less remained linked to their nomen for at least two centuries. There are, obviously, other aspects of the Marcian tradition that have been excluded from this article: the carmina Marciana are a perfect example of that.Footnote 52

Even if we look only at these two traditions, it is clear that the Marcii were very active in creating traditions in order to be elected, thus enhancing their familiar history. Hölkeskamp's arguments can be confirmed: in the first century, the Marcii still recalled their mythical lineage from Numa and their association with Marsyas, using their rich ‘symbolic capital’. Other families preferred to use their recent glories, as is the case, for example, with the Aemilii, who minted coins with a more ‘personal’ iconography, which represented L. Aemilius Paullus Macedonicus’ triumph or the deeds of M. Aemilius Lepidus (cos. 187).Footnote 53 Being unable to use new traditions, the Marcii used more ancient ones, thus giving us a perfect example of the duration and the aims of a Roman familiar tradition.

Footnotes

It is my pleasure to express gratitude to Prof. Daniele Miano and Prof. John Thornton, who read a draft of this paper and provided me with their invaluable suggestions. Every mistake remains obviously mine. I also deeply thank Dr Valentina Arena for having provided me with her article about Marsyas and the concept of libertas (see n. 34 below) that is, while I write, still forthcoming.

References

1 For Roman Republican propaganda, see in general de Rose Evans, J., The Art of Persuasion. Political Propaganda from Aeneas to Brutus (Ann Arbor, 1992)Google Scholar, especially 1–16.

2 See again de Rose Evans (n. 1), 17–34. Many scholars studied Roman coins as vectors of propaganda: see, for example, Alföldi, A., ‘The main aspects of political propaganda on the coinage of the Roman Republic’, in Carson, R.A.G. and Sutherland, C.H.V. (edd.), Essays in Roman Coinage Presented to Harold Mattingly (Oxford, 1956), 63–95Google Scholar; and Belloni, G.G., ‘Monete romane e propaganda. Impostazione di una problematica complessa’, in Sordi, M. (ed.), I canali della propaganda nel mondo antico (Milan, 1976), 131–59Google Scholar.

3 Hölkeskamp, K.-J., Reconstructing the Roman Republic. An Ancient Political Culture and Modern Research (Princeton, 2010; original ed. Munich, 2004), 107–24CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

4 See Hölkeskamp (n. 3), 118–19 for the representative case of the Caecilii Metelli.

5 The fundamental witness for the first four gentes is Plut. Num. 21.2–3. For the Marcii, Livy traces the family lineage back to the marriage between a Marcius and Pompilia, Numa's daughter (Livy 1.32.1); the same tradition can be found e.g. in Plut. Num. 4–6.

6 Many studies address the problem, including Marino, A. Storchi, Numa e Pitagora. Sapientia constituendae civitatis (Naples, 1999)Google Scholar. See also, among others, Verdière, R., ‘Calpus, fils de Numa, et la tripartition fonctionnelle dans la société indo-éuropéenne’, AC 34 (1965), 425–31Google Scholar; Fabbricotti, E., ‘Numa Pompilio e tre monetieri di età repubblicana’, AIIN 15 (1968), 31–8Google Scholar; Buraselis, K., ‘Numa und die gens Pomponia’, Historia 25 (1976), 378–80Google Scholar; Marino, A. Storchi, ‘C. Marcio Censorino, la lotta politica intorno al pontificato e la formazione della tradizione liviana su Numa’, AION(archeol) 14 (1992), 105–47Google Scholar; Humm, M., ‘Numa et Pythagore: vie et mort d'un mythe’, in Deproost, P.-A. and Meurant, A. (edd.), Images d'origines. Origines d'une image. Hommages à Jacques Poucet (Louvain-la-Neuve, 2004), 125–37Google Scholar; Russo, F., ‘Genealogie numaiche e tradizioni pitagoriche’, RCCM 47 (2005), 265–90Google Scholar; id., ‘I carmina Marciana e le tradizioni sui Marcii’, PP 60 (2005), 5–32; L. Ferrero, Storia del pitagorismo nel mondo romano. Dalle origini alla fine della Repubblica (Forlì, 20082; 1st edn: Turin, 1955), 140–8; Russo, F., ‘Le statue di Alcibiade e Pitagora nel Comitium’, ASNP 3 (2012), 105–34Google Scholar, at 117–19.

7 Plut. Aem. 2.2: ὅτι δ’ ὁ πρῶτος αὐτῶν καὶ τῷ γένει τὴν ἐπωνυμίαν ἀπολιπὼν Μά‹με›ρκος ἦν, Πυθαγόρου παῖς τοῦ σοφοῦ, δι’ αἱμυλίαν λόγου καὶ χάριν Αἰμίλιος προσαγορευθείς, εἰρήκασιν ἔνιοι τῶν Πυθαγόρᾳ τὴν Νομᾶ τοῦ βασιλέως παίδευσιν ἀναθέντων.

8 Schwarze, W., Quibus fontibus Plutarchus in uita L. Aemilii Paulli usus sit (Leipzig, 1891), 12–14Google Scholar.

9 Paulus ex Festo, page 22 Lindsay: Aemiliam gentem appellatam dicunt a Mamerco, Pythagorae philosophi filio, cui propter unicam humanitatem cognomen fuerit Aemylos.

10 Schwarze (n. 8), 13 traces Flaccus’ sources back to Varro, but the issue is much debated. See e.g. Glinister, F., ‘Constructing the past’, in Glinister, F., Woods, C., North, J.A. and Crawford, M.H. (edd.), Verrius, Festus & Paul (London, 2007), 11–32Google Scholar, with related bibliography.

11 On the Pinarii Mamercini, see O. Stein, ‘Pinarius 11–13’, RE 20.2, cols. 1400–1; for the Aemilii, E. Klebs, ‘Aemilius 93–101’, RE 1.1, cols. 568–72. Moreover, Mamercus was a praenomen often used by these Aemilii. Both gentes still existed after the fourth century b.c. but with other family branches. See also Loreto, L., ‘Osservazioni sulla politica estera degli Emili Mamercini e di Publilio Filone’, Prometheus 19 (1992), 58–68Google Scholar.

12 Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1999]), 24–31. It is hard to think that some Roman gentes already linked their name to Pythagoras during the fifth century b.c., when the cognomen of Mamercus/Mamercinus first appeared. Their onomastics must have developed independently for other reasons. This cognomen has also other meanings: for some of them, see F. Münzer, ‘Mamercus 2’, RE 14.1, col. 950. Cf. Derois, L., ‘Les noms latins du marteau et la racine étrusque «mar-»’, AC 28 (1959), 5–31Google Scholar, who connects the cognomen to artisanal activities (at 17–31). These gentes might have fabricated a connection between their existing cognomen and Pythagoras’ son only in the mid fourth century b.c., with the first official institutional contacts between Rome and Magna Graecia.

13 Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1999]), 24 n. 20 and 154 n. 155, with related bibliography, thinks that the origin of this tradition has to be located around the second or first century b.c. Contra, Coarelli, F., Il Foro romano. 2: Periodo repubblicano e augusteo (Rome, 1985), 115Google Scholar dates the same tradition between the fourth and third centuries. Almost certainly, Storchi Marino's hypothesis is much preferable for the Calpurnii. The benefit of the doubt must be given in relation to the Pinarii.

14 Plut. Num. 21.2–3.

15 But see Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1999]), 144 on the relationship between the Marcii and the Pythagorean use of Apollo.

16 Cf. Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1999]), 139; ead. (n. 6 [1992]), 121–6.

17 Remember e.g. Gell. NA 3.3, who tells how the comedies of a Plautius (gen. Plauti) were thought to be written by Plautus (genitive Plauti again).

18 Marci filius: Enn. Ann. 9.306 Skutsch; Cic. Brut. 109; Cic. Lael. 1.3; Livy 2.18.6.

19 Who, in this case, could have formed his nomen from his father's praenomen, following a common practice among Latin-speaking peoples: see H. Rix, ‘Zum Ursprung des römisch-mittelitalischen Gentilnamensystems’, ANRW 1.2 (1972), 700–58, at 717–18; Salway, B., ‘What's in a name? A survey of Roman onomastic practice from c.700 b.c. to a.d. 700’, JRS 84 (1994), 124–45Google Scholar, at 125 n. 13.

20 Plut. Num. 21.5.

21 Livy 1.20.5. Contra, see Russo (n. 6 [2005 ‘I carmina Marciana’]), 13–14, who identifies the son (not the father) as the pontifex maximus co-opted by Numa.

22 Plut. Num. 21.4: πάντες δ’ οὖν ὁμολογοῦσι τὴν Πομπιλίαν Μαρκίῳ γαμηθῆναι, ‘all are agreed that Pompilia was married to Marcius’ (transl. B. Perrin). This is, presumably, because Ancus’ ancestry was part of the tradition well before the birth of the Republic.

23 Plut. Num. 5.4.

24 Tac. Ann. 6.10.3–11.1. In this case, Numa Marcius fils cannot be mistaken for his homonymous father: Plutarch tells us (Num. 21.3) that Numa Marcius père let himself die at the beginning of Tullus’ reign, realizing that he would not become king himself. The passage in Tacitus, therefore, is the only passage that reveals the name of Pompilia's husband with certainty, together with a tradition about his permanence in Rome. Livy (1.59.12) confirms that a praefectus Vrbi existed in the Regal period despite many uncertainties on the duties of this magistracy: Sp. Lucretius Tricipitinus, Lucretia's father, was a praefectus, as reported by Tacitus in the same passage quoted above. According to Livy 1.60.4, this magistracy was created by King Servius. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.71.6, on the other hand, asserts that also the ἄρχων κελερίων (‘commander of the Celeres’: this was Brutus) exercised some powers in the absence of the king.

25 Dictator in 356 b.c. (Livy 7.17.6); censor in 351 (Livy 7.22.6). See MRR 1.123 and 1.126–7, and Poma, G., ‘Su Livio, VII, 17, 6: dictator primus e plebe’, RSA 25 (1995), 71–90Google Scholar.

26 In addition to the Marcii Philippi, Rutili and Censorini: Cn. Marcius in 389 (Livy 6.1.6); Q. Marcius Ralla in 196 (Livy 32.25.6); Q. Marcius Scilla and M. Marcius Sermo in 172 (Livy 42.21–2).

27 An uncommon condition that can also be found, for example, among the Claudii, both the plebeian (Marcelli) and the patrician (Pulchri): Asc. Scaur. 25–6 Clark.

28 This is clearly what the Romans believed at the end of the fourth century. Cornell, T.J., The Beginnings of Rome. Italy from the Bronze Age to the Punic Wars (London and New York, 1995), 242–71Google Scholar convincingly showed (at 244) that ‘there was no “Conflict of the Orders” (properly so called) until the fourth century, when the battle over the Licinio-Sextian Rogations began.’

29 Livy calls Numa Marcius simply pontifex, chosen among the patres, but the significant attribution of sacra omnia exscripta exsignataque (Livy 1.20.5) makes him a likely pontifex maximus. Ogilvie, R.M., A Commentary on Livy. Books I–V (Oxford, 1965), 101Google Scholar noted the archaic phrasing (used elsewhere only in Plaut. Trin. 655); Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1992]), 111 thinks that Livy directly recalls an annalistic source, albeit impossible to identify. According to Eutr. 1.5.1 and Zonar. 7.6 (from Cassius Dio), Ancus was the son of Numa's daughter, without specifying his paternal lineage. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 2.76.6 tells us that he read this same information in Cn. Gellius (FRHist F 22 Cornell), who thus becomes one of the most ancient witnesses on the Numan tradition, perhaps the most ancient witness. On Cn. Gellius’ role in the Marcian tradition, see again Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1992]), 133–8; ead. (n. 6 [1999]), 153–5 with bibliography; Cornell, T.J. (ed.), The Fragments of the Roman Historians (Oxford, 2013), 3.238Google Scholar, F 22 and related cross-references. On the sacra given to the pontifex maximus, see also Peruzzi, E., ‘Livio I, 20, 5’, RFIC 99 (1971), 264–70Google Scholar.

30 RRC 363/1; see also Hor. Sat. 1.6.120 and Sen. Ben. 6.32.1. For modern analysis, see M. Torelli, Typology and Structure of Roman Historical Reliefs (Ann Arbor, 1982), 99–106; Coarelli (n. 13), 91–110; Miano, D., Monimenta. Aspetti storico-culturali della memoria nella Roma medio-repubblicana (Rome, 2011), 109–26Google Scholar; F. Santangelo, ‘The statue of Marsyas’, in M. Garcia Morcillo, J.H. Richardson and F. Santangelo (edd.), Ruin or Renewal? Places and the Transformation of Memory in the City of Rome (Rome, 2016), 49–71 with further bibliography.

31 RRC 346/1, 3 and 4 (88 b.c., coined by C. Marcius Censorinus).

32 See Coarelli (n. 13), 95–100; Miano (n. 30), 117–19 with further bibliography; A. Mastrocinque, ‘Marsia e la civitas Romana’, in M. Chiabà (ed.), Hoc quoque laboris praemium. Scritti in onore di Gino Bandelli (Trieste, 2014), 331–41.

33 For the link between Marsyas and libertas, besides Miano (n. 30), see also Basso, P. and Buonopane, A., ‘Marsia nelle città del mondo romano’, MediterrAnt 11 (2008), 139–59Google Scholar and Mastrocinque (n. 32), 334.

34 V. Arena, ‘The status of Marsyas, Liber, and Servius: an instance of an ancient semantic battle?’, in M. Nebelin and C. Tiersch (edd.), Semantische Kämpfe zwischen Republik und Prinzipat (forthcoming); de Quiroga, P. López Barja, ‘The Quinquatrus of June, Marsyas and libertas in the Late Roman Republic’, CQ 68 (2018), 143–59CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

35 RRC 1.378, followed by Coarelli (n. 13), 116–18.

36 Miano (n. 30), 132.

37 See MRR 1.172–3.

38 Livy 10.6.11. See Hölkeskamp, K.-J., ‘Das plebiscitum Ogulnium de sacerdotibus. Überlegungen zu Authentizität und Interpretation der livianischen Überlieferung’, RhM 131 (1988), 51–67Google Scholar; J.H. Valgaeren, ‘The jurisdiction of the pontiffs at the end of the fourth century b.c.’, in O. Tellegen-Couperus (ed.), Law and Religion in the Roman Republic (Leiden and Boston, 2012), 107–18, at 115–18 with further bibliography.

39 Miano (n. 30), 131.

40 Torelli (n. 30), 103 and Coarelli (n. 13), 91–110. Miano (n. 30) substantially agrees with Torelli and Coarelli. See again Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1992]) on Censorinus.

41 See also Coarelli (n. 13), 106–7, who sees a connection with the liberation of the nexi (slaves by debt).

42 This would be an approximate date, without even engaging with the chronological problems of the fourth century. Even the Capuan deditio is much doubted. See, among others, Burton, P.J., Friendship and Empire. Roman Diplomacy and Imperialism in the Middle Republic (353–146 b.c.) (Cambridge, 2011), 122–4CrossRefGoogle Scholar, for recent considerations about the deditio and bibliographical discussion on the topic.

43 The matter of Roman Republican political groupings is still very complex and debated. I use these terms for the sake of simplicity. Some of the most important historiographical discussions can be found in M. Gelzer, Die Nobilität der römischen Republik (Stuttgart, 1912); F. Münzer, Römische Adelsparteien und Adelsfamilien (Stuttgart, 1920); F. Cassola, I gruppi politici romani nel III sec. a.C. (Trieste, 1962); K.-J. Hölkeskamp, Die Entstehung der Nobilität: Studien zur sozialen und politischen Geschichte der römischen Republik im 4. Jhdt. v.Chr. (Wiesbaden, 1987); Millar, F., The Crowd in Rome in the Late Republic (Ann Arbor, 1998)CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Hölkeskamp (n. 3).

44 Thus Cornell (n. 28), 343, referring to the first years after the Licinian-Sextian laws and to the modifications with the leges Genuciae: ‘An important result of the new situation was that the two groups forming the patricio-plebeian nobility were not locked in conflict, but on the contrary were bound together by the peculiar rules of the power-sharing system.’

45 See Livy 9.46; Plin. HN 33.17–19; Val. Max. 2.5.2. For Flavius’ aedileship in 304 b.c., see MRR 1.168. These events were thought to be remarkable: the aedile's deeds fill a whole chapter in Livy. On Flavius’ deeds and their connection with Ap. Claudius, see also Humm, M., Appius Claudius Caecus. La République accomplie (Rome, 2005), 441–80CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

46 Livy 9.46.6: uerba praeire, cum more maiorum negaret nisi consulem aut imperatorem posse templum dedicare.

47 The year 304 b.c. is very eventful: many Italian peoples signed agreements after the defeat at Bouianum (Livy 9.45.18; Diod. Sic. 20.101.5); the censor Q. Fabius Rullianus annulled Ap. Claudius Caecus’ reform of the tribes (thus assuming the cognomen ‘Maximus’: Livy 9.46.13–15); see e.g. Cassola (n. 43), 108–9. The intervention of Cn. Flavius took place in an extremely dynamic political, religious and cultural context, with Roman ‘political groups’ starting to differentiate themselves more decisively.

48 Plin. HN 34.26; Plut. Num. 8.20. Cf. Russo (n. 6 [2012]); see also Storchi Marino (n. 6 [1999]), 146–52 and Coarelli (n. 13), 119–23.

49 See also Anselmo, G. Aricò, ‘Numa Pompilio e la propaganda augustea’, ASGP 57 (2014), 27–62Google Scholar: propagandistic uses of Numa continued in the Augustan period, reflecting the persistent influence of this figure.

50 It remains true that in the 80s of the first century b.c. the gens Marcia struck coins at the same time with, respectively, Marsyas’ iconography and Numa with Ancus (see above). Between these periods, however, passed almost two centuries, more than sufficient to crystalize a ‘double tradition’.

51 Livy 10.23.12; see Holleman, A.W.J., ‘The Ogulnii monument at Rome’, Mnemosyne 40 (1987), 427–9CrossRefGoogle Scholar and Miano (n. 30), 143–72. Coarelli (n. 13), 102 believes that the statue of the she-wolf and the statue of Marsyas are connected, presenting other good reasons related to the commission of the two works and to the political climate of the period.

52 See Russo (n. 6 [2005 ‘I carmina Marciana’]). The fragments are in FPL 4 14–16 Blänsdorf.

53 Respectively, RRC 415/1 and 419/1.