Gaius Blossius and The City of the Sun

Among all the great schools of ancient philosophy, the Stoics were unique in arguing that all men under the shared sky were brothers. Espousing a cosmopolitanism almost unheard of for its time, cosmopolitan means, literally, “citizen of the cosmos”. But, like many philosophical doctrines, it would grow to be interpreted in a multitude of, sometimes incompatible, doctrines that the founders of the school had not intended. For a thinker like Posesidonius, who popularized stoicism in the later Republic, this ideal of a unified polity, or cosmopolis, was best represented by the Roman Empire, which brought together the many peoples of the earth under one culture and set of shared values.

This optimistic view, however, came much later, long after Roman dominion of the Western world had become accepted, if sometimes reluctantly, as fact. A few centuries earlier many viewed the creep of Roman hegemony as a looming threat. The philosopher Gaius Blossius was one of these bell-weathers who saw the Romans as less liberators than, put mildly, opponents of liberty. He was born sometime in the second century B.C. in the southern Italian city of Cumae. At Cumae, a Greek colony of Euboea, Blossius grew up immersed in an atmosphere that had never surrendered its Greek notions of independent governance. Indeed, it was said his family had given strong support to the anti-Roman faction of the city in the days before its independence had been annulled.

As a youth, he went to Athens and studied under Antipater of Tarsus, of whose opinions we know little, other than that his ethical standards were even higher than those of his predecessor in the school. These are the sparse surviving facts history has furnished us with to speculate upon Blossius’ motives but, as we shall see, they all appear to reinforce the image of a man who saw the growth of the Roman state, at least after the death of his patron, as a threat to all he held dear.

It is perhaps ironic then that this enemy of Roman despotism spent so many years in the enemy’s camp under the patronage of a woman who represented the highest example of Roman matronhood: Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi. This bold and perhaps domineering widow was the daughter of the legendary victor of Zama, Scipio Africanus. And, much like her illustrious father, Cornelia had the taste and education of a patrician to appreciate all things Greek. It is no doubt in this spirit that she requested Blossius to tutor her young sons, Tiberius and Gaius.

It is possible Blossius saw this appointment as an opportunity, a means to affect Roman politics from the inside, we can never know. However, Stoic doctrine made such intervention a commonplace throughout antiquity, when notable Stoic intellectuals served as advisors to emperors and kings as seen in the example of Sphaerus in the courts of first Cleomenes III, then later, Ptolemy IV Philopator.

Perhaps the best evidence for Blossius’ stoic influence on the young Tiberius is first revealed, as is usually the case, by his actions. Upon passing through northern Italy on his way to Spain, Plutarch tells us the maturing officer was appalled by the many farms owned by the wealthy few, and managed by slaves rather than free Romans. As a distinguished veteran of the Third Punic War, Tiberius was all too conscious of the many soldiers who had returned from victory in Africa only to find themselves rendered homeless in their absence by the very state for which they had bled. The legionary was the slave of war during the duration of his service, his property left to the care of his wife and children in his absence on campaign. Such stewards, often inexperienced in farming and the skills of husbandry, very often found the task too great resulting in bankruptcy for the poor soldier’s family, but an opportunity for the wealthy to snap up such properties cheaply to then sow them together into massive private estates. Concerned about the consequences of such injustice to the Republic, Tiberius was elected, with all popular confidence, as tribune of the people and brought about a series of reforms to redistribute the land to the urban poor.

Of course, those with the most to lose in this legislation, the aristocratic senate, could not sit unmoved as the source of so much of their personal wealth was given away. In 133 B.C., after the illegal removal of a fellow tribune who had sided with the senate, tensions began to grow in the face of Tiberius’ determination. When he was presented with a golden crown and purple robe, rumors began to multiply that the over-eager Tiberius was planning to make himself king; and when, during a confrontation between his supporters and the senate misconstrued the tribune’s signal for aid, the young champion of the people having been beaten to death and cast into the Tiber, the Republic had had its first taste of the civil wars yet to come.

In the aftermath, among those who were interrogated about their involvement in Tiberius’ perceived coup, was the defiant Blossius. The consul’s question may at first have appeared a trap; he was asked what he would have done if his former pupil had commanded him to burn the Capitol? His reply was evasive, claiming that such an order would never have come from Tiberius’ lips. However, upon being pressed, he argued like a good philosopher that, if Tiberius had commanded it, such an act could only be for the people’s good. We can only imagine the astonishment such an answer was met with, which is why it is only more astonishing that the truculent truth-sayer was summarily released and sent on his way. We can only suspect that the aristocratic officials had had enough blood for the moment or, more probably, the influence of Cornelia and her remaining son still held at least a little sway among certain senators. Regardless, Blossius took this opportunity to leave not only Rome, but the West entirely as he sought a new life under the Attalids.

His choice for his next place of residence, Pergamon, may not be as curious as it might at first seem. The kingdom had an established connection to the Stoic school through the philosopher Athenodoros who became head of the great library there, founded in the third century to rival that at Alexandria. The second possibility is that the political firebrand felt he still had some work to do and this was just the place to do it. Not long before Tiberius’ assassination, Attalus III, the last king of Pergamon, gifted his kingdom to the Roman people in his will. At the time this windfall became known to Tiberius, in his capacity as tribune, he swiftly allocated the newly acquired wealth to put towards the funding of his land reforms. It is quite possible Blossius saw this as a new opportunity to agitate against Rome as the will was immediately contested by an obscure contender for the now vacant throne named Aristonicus.

Aristonicus claimed to be the illegitimate son of the late king’s father, Eumenes II, and took as his regnal name that of Eumenes III, no doubt to honor his forebear if not to acquire with it the goodwill the name invoked. Regardless of the truth or legality of his claims, the would-be prince had some success at first. This revolt was well underway when Blossius chanced to join it, so it is uncertain how much of his influence affected its development. What is certain remains the unusual character of the uprising. At some point in his search for fighters to strengthen his army Aristonicus turned to the slaves of the interior with promises of freedom but, attached to these typical inducements, was the added promise of a sense of community, and an unheard-of social equality.

The liberator-king united this band of brothers underneath the banner of a new identity, the Heliopolites, or, citizens of the sun. Utopias were long a part of Stoic political thought, and this conception harkened back to one discussed by Diodorus Siculus in his Universal History. Diodorus records an old traveler’s tale of a Greek merchant who, becoming lost in a storm, finds himself among a strange people inhabiting what he called the Islands of the Sun. The possible identification with this legend may have given the new army a greater goal and impetus to fight for it. By 130 B.C. the rebels had defeated one Roman general and had success in taking several cities on the coast. However, by the following year the more experienced general Marcus Purperna, who had recently quelled the slave revolts of Sicily, arrived in the region and began to exercise that efficient single-mindedness that so often gives to the Roman conquest of the Mediterranean almost the appearance of inevitability to the modern observer.

Our sources are thin for the events of this moment. After a quickly won engagement over Aristonicus’ forces, it is believed the defeated king took shelter with what remained of his army within the walls of Stratonicea; there he was eventually starved into surrender by Purperna and sent ahead to Rome in chains. As for Blossius, knowing what Roman mercy entailed and, preceded by his act that old Stoic Cato who likewise understood that, without liberty life was nothing, took his fate into his own hands before the enemy could have the privilege.

At first appearance such a life, with two great political disasters to its credit, would seem to be a failure. With the advantages of hindsight, we might judge the ideals of Blossius harshly, perhaps even crack a smile at his obvious naivete in the face of such a force as Rome; but this might be too hasty. For, whatever progress has come into the world it has rarely come without great risks against often greater odds, and, in the fullness of time, we may view such a valiant attempt not so much as a failure then as a promise of what might be. In this sense, the vision of Gaius Blossius is instead a reason to be hopeful that humanity may possess an innate pull towards justice that has always been with us if only sometimes sleeping.

A later Stoic teacher, the great Epictetus, would remind his students that no act of virtue is wasted, no attempt at perfecting humanity a loss; and frequently cited the example of Helvidius Priscus who, in defying the emperor Vespasian earned Caesar’s ire, and so death. “What good, you ask, did Priscus do, being but one?” Epictetus questioned his pupils. “What good does the purple do to the garment? Just this, that being purple it gives distinction and stands out as a fine example to the rest.” Even in his failure, the act is all that matters, we do not expect favors for duty done, only to set a good example for those who follow.

And yet, with the clarifying lens of history, there was perhaps in this defeat a different kind of victory. Like a slow-acting poison, the wealth of the East that poured into Rome in the wake of Pergamon‘s fall began to rot and undermine the foundations of the old Republican ship of state like wood-boring worms. So obvious did this fact appear to later generations that the elder Pliny cited it as a major cause for the people’s decline, remarking: “[T]hat which inflicted a still more severe blow upon the Roman morals, was the legacy of Asia, which King Attalus left to the state…a legacy which was even more disadvantageous than the victory of Scipio, in its results.” A victory that removed Carthage as the Republic’s sparring partner who had long served as a spur to industry and constant watchfulness, had added to it eastern luxury that slowed the body politic with excess flab.

Ultimately then Rome’s success may very well have been the source of her own undoing and, in the long view, Blossius’ vindication.

Bibliography:

Africa, Thomas W. “Aristonicus, Blossius, and the City of the Sun.” International Review of Social History, vol. 6, no. 1, Apr. 1961, pp. 110–24. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.1017/S0020859000001784.
Baldry, H. C. “Zeno’s Ideal State.” The Journal of Hellenic Studies, vol. 79, Nov. 1959, pp. 3–15. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.2307/627917.
Benjamin Farrington, 1936 “Diodorus Siculus: Universal Historian” · Swansea University Centenary 2020 · Swansea University Digital Collections. https://collections.swansea.ac.uk/s/swansea-2020/item/2575. Accessed 20 June 2021.
Dawson, Doyne. Cities of the Gods: Communist Utopias in Greek Thought. Oxford University Press, 1992.
Dixon, Suzanne. Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi. Routledge, 2007.
Dudley, D. R. “Blossius of Cumae.” Journal of Roman Studies, vol. 31, no. 1–2, Nov. 1941, pp. 94–99. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.2307/297107.
Epictetus. Epictetus: The Discourses and Manual. Clarendon Press, 1916.
Erskine, Andrew. A Companion to the Hellenistic World. John Wiley & Sons, 2009.
Fisch, M. H. “Alexander and the Stoics: Part I.” The American Journal of Philology, vol. 58, no. 1, 1937, p. 59. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.2307/290162.
Futre Pinheiro, M., et al., editors. Philosophy and the Ancient Novel. Barkhuis ; Groningen University Library, 2015.
LacusCurtius • Diodorus Siculus — Book II Chapters 35‑60. https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Diodorus_Siculus/2B.html. Accessed 5 July 2021. Lowes, John Livingston. “Keats, Diodorus Siculus, and Rabelais.” Modern Philology, vol. 34, no. 3, Feb. 1937, pp. 295–304. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.1086/388251. Montiglio, Silvia. Philosophy and the Ancient Novel. Barkhuis, 2015. Pliny the Elder, The Natural History, BOOK XXXIII. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF METALS., CHAP. 53. — THE ENORMOUS PRICE OF SILVER PLATE. http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.02.0137%3Abook%3D33%3Achapter%3D53. Accessed 29 June 2021. Plutarch • Life of Tiberius Gracchus. https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Plutarch/Lives/Tiberius_Gracchus.html. Accessed 5 July 2021.
Sacks, Kenneth. Diodorus Siculus and the first century. 1990. Open WorldCat, https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400861286.
Scullard, Howard Hayes. From the Gracchi to Nero: A History of Rome from 133 B. C. to A. D. 68. 3. ed, Methuen, 1970.
Tarn, W. W. “Alexander Helios and the Golden Age.” Journal of Roman Studies, vol. 22, no. 2, 1932, pp. 135–60. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.2307/296819.
Urbainczyk, Theresa. Slave Revolts in Antiquity. University of California Press, 2008.