#prosopography

[Kathryn Welch, Magnus Pius: Sextus Pompeius and the Transformation of the Roman Republic]

This society was founded on 1 August 1836, at a national convention at the lyceum in Saratoga Springs where Isaac S. Smith of Buffalo was elected as its president. Smith, as we saw earlier, had also been the Working Men’s Party candidate for lieutenant governor of New York in 1830 and the Locofoco candidate for governor of New York in 1836. The Ohio Moral and Philosophical Society, a branch of the national freethought organization, was founded in 1836 with Underhill as president and Harmon and Bierce as vice-presidents; all were prominent in the organization of the Ohio Patriot lodges. A.  D. Smith and Williams were also directors of the Cleveland branch of the Ohio Moral and Philosophical Society.

The freethought movement was first organized as the Free Press Association, in 1827, in defense of George Houston, publisher of the Correspondent, an early journal of biblical criticism in an era when blasphemy convictions were still possible. Houston had helped found America’s first Owenite community at Haverstraw, New York, in 1826–27; Underhill, later president of the Ohio Moral and Philosophical Society and publisher of the freethought Cleveland Liberalist, had briefly joined that community before moving to the Kendal Community in 1827–28. A surprising number of Patriot leaders had taken an active role in the relatively small number of utopian socialist colonies of the Old Northwest, and almost all of them were veterans of the Owenite faction of the Working Men’s Party. Besides Underhill, Harmon (aide-de-camp of Bierce) had lived in the Owenite Kendal community. Following the Patriot War, more yet – including Thomas Low Nichols, editor of the Patriot newspaper the Buffalonian, and Dr. Edward A. Theller, Patriot organizer and newspaper publisher in Detroit – led Fourierist communities.

The short-lived Correspondent was eventually superseded by the Free Enquirer, the official organ of Robert Owen’s New Harmony community in Indiana, edited by his son Robert Dale Owen and Fanny Wright between 1828 and 1832 in New York. During this time, Robert Dale Owen sought to introduce the philosophic skepticism of the freethought movement into the Working Men’s Party in New York City. The Working Men split, as did many Owenite communities, over these attacks on revealed religion. It was the Owenite faction of the “Workies” that went on to form the Equal Rights Party (or Locofocos) in 1836 in New York. The freethought wing of Owenite socialism was moved by a particular vision of civil society and citizenship that set their political agenda. The freethought movement was imbued with the secular civic republicanism of Thomas Paine: 

“Free enquirers viewed their opposition to political religion as an extension of the American Revolution and the political ideas it sustained.... [They] viewed the Revolution as an ultimately successful challenge to the idea that civil society and political power required any foundation in revealed religion.”

Drawing on the works of Paine, the free enquirers – and hence the Equal Rights Party – “believed that full citizenship required what they variously termed ‘mental freedom,’ ‘mental liberty,’ or ‘mental emancipation.’ Free enquirers argued that one could possess the full rights and meet the full obligations of citizenship only if one was mentally emancipated, which could come about solely through free enquiry.” The critical elements of free enquiry were thus its opposition to organized Christian reform, on the one hand, and its dedication to Painite civic republicanism, on the other. By their very choice of name – a Society for the General Diffusion of Useful Knowledge – the freethinkers were associating themselves with the British Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, a working-class educational publishing initiative connected with the Mechanics’ Institute movement and its American imitator, the lyceum movement. As Nichols would later write, the lyceum movement made “courses of lectures ... a national and pervading institution. Never, probably, had the lecturing system such a development; nowhere has the platform such a powerful influence.” These initiatives were the major means by which the freethinkers sought to popularize the “sciences” of phrenology and animal magnetism (hypnotism) and their secular rationalist methodologies for the working class.

As the lyceum movement spread throughout New England, New York, and Ohio in the decade 1826–36, it helped forge a sense of a mass public as speakers moved along a well-developed circuit following the Erie Canal. It not only “expressed a national culture; it was one of the central institutions within and by which the public had its existence.” The institutionalized debate with the rule-governed rational consideration of controversial subjects was one of the ways that the lyceum successfully evoked this public, “suggesting that to be ‘American’ was to be engaged in public debate.” Lyceum debates were patterned on those of the ubiquitous collegiate literary societies that many Patriot leaders, as doctors and lawyers, no doubt attended. Such debates were not without their constraints, hence formal controversy (the carefully selected question for debate) was enacted in a controlled agonistic setting that allowed for formal adjudication but not compromise.

Crucially, these formalized debates granted freethought reformers a platform for attacks on organized religion; for example, the highly publicized debate between Robert Owen and prominent evangelical clergyman Alexander Campbell in 1829 in Cincinnati, in the midst of the Second Great Awakening, forced revivalists to reframe their arguments from revelation to rationalist criteria. The terms of the debate were clearly on Owen’s side: “The focus of the debate was on religion, with Owen out to demonstrate the superiority of rational unbelief and Campbell taking equally rationalist grounds to argue the merits of biblical Christianity.” As early-19th-century Protestantism was transformed, beliefs (of which there were many) were newly “conceived of as a choice rather than an obligation, the cause of practice rather than the effect.” This emphasis on Enlightenment rationalism became a critical element of Protestant theology as it dropped Calvinist notions of predestination in favour of free-will evangelicalism predicated upon conversion experiences. Hence, in these debates, “Owen was pushed to defend his doctrine of environmental determination against attacks by Campbell, who saw free will as essential to Christianity.

Participation of the Hunters’ Lodge leadership in the lyceum movement is not itself unusual given the movement’s widespread popularity and secular rationalist biases. However, their utilization of that didactic forum to introduce what are now widely regarded as pseudosciences – phrenology and animal magnetism – is idiosyncratic. Many of the Patriot leaders were physicians, and many were also leading phrenologists. Demonstrations of phrenological head reading and hypnotic trance (“animal magnetism”) through lyceum lectures and debates provided visceral and highly public proofs of materialist forms of explanation of human nature. A.D. Smith was a lecturer in phrenology in 1837 and helped form the Cleveland Phrenological Society. 

Duncombe attested to the truths he had witnessed in a series of public lectures and hypnotism experiments in Rochester in 1843; the committee of which he was a part found that “to those, however, who have seen experiments in Animal Magnetism, it will appear as it is, true; for to them, the fact is by no means new that the power of both the muscles and phrenological organs, is vastly augmented by being magnetized.” Public demonstrations of the hypnotic “magnetizing” of a phrenological “faculty” on a participant’s head, and the intensified performance of the behaviors associated with that faculty, were persuasive materialistic evidence of phrenology’s truth. These vivid public demonstrations served as a potent substitute for religious revivalism.

These highly charged public demonstrations and the conversion to a materialist outlook they induced were matched by more individualized disciplinary measures. “It took no great effort to read into phrenology a social philosophy that would appeal to progressives: men are not born corrupted by original sin; they inherited varying sets of characteristics which could be individually determined and altered. The role to be played by education in such a philosophy was, of course, crucial. It was for this reason that pedagogues such as Horace Mann and Robert Owen were attracted to the doctrine.” 

The standard of this social philosophy was the Scottish phrenologist George Combe’s 1828 Constitution of Man (which he referred to as his “bible of secularism”), one of the most popular books of the late 1830s; it transformed phrenology from a physiological science to a program of moral reform that could serve as a challenge to evangelical moral campaigns. Patients who had been examined phrenologically would be given a record of the size of their individual faculties and instruction on how to cultivate or curb them in relation to their overall harmonious development. Phrenology’s craft sought to reach a person’s moral centre, now defined as “inner character,” rather than outward self-presentation – much like the “new view of human psychology” imbuing the ritual discipline of the higher degrees of Freemasonry.

Phrenology was, in other words, increasingly viewed as a scientific, nonreligious method for instilling moral values, much like Freemasonry’s “sublime science,” in what an increasingly fearful urban middle class viewed as a depraved working class. The scientific cachet of phrenology was such that this program of self-discipline as vehicle of moral development was ultimately deployed in the treatment of criminality at Sing Sing prison in New York in 1846. The most important element of this reform was a system of public schooling that would provide child-centred teaching methods geared towards maturing minds, training their developing “faculties” and providing them with the knowledge of the scientific principles that governed their physical and social beings. Phrenology – and Coombe’s moral philosophy, in particular – was adopted by the founder of the common school revival movement, Horace Mann, in 1837 as the basis for this extension and renewal of the lyceum movement.”

Though some schoolmasters in early modern England dedicated themselves to lifetimes of teaching, this was not true of all. Some used teaching as a stepping stone to careers in publishing, medicine, politics, or even the church.

I absolutely adore your blog. May you compare and contrast Parmenion and Antipater’s roles at Philip II’s court (I am assuming they had similar roles at Alexander’s court)?

Antipater was regent, but it seems like Parmenion was Philip’s second in all things. So why was Parmenion not regent? I am having a hard time understanding what they each do. Also, how did Parmenion get to Pella? I believe you said that he was from Pelagonia. Doesn’t that mean his people were conquered by Philip? Why would he want to work with Philip then and how did he become so trusted? If the sources do not tell us, what are your thoughts?

Thank you for your time!

Parmenion and Antipatros

Some very good questions. To answer, we need to understand how the court worked—and fortunately, you have asked the right person! The court is my jam. I’ve also talked about the various offices before: Traditional Offices at the Macedonian Court.

Although Macedon was not a constitutional monarchy in any real way, that isn’t to say certain families did not have a fair bit of authority and power. These are the Hetairoi (Companions, e.g., the landed nobility). They couldn’t be kings but were king-makers. Theoretically, they all seem to have been considered equal, but predictably, some had more status (and wealth) than others. Those men are loosely referred to in our sources as Friends (Philoi).

The king could both make, and break, Hetairoi, and a few (reaching back at least to Alexander I) were Greeks and other non-Macedonians. Yet especially newer/younger kings couldn’t remove the status with impunity. For most sons, it would have been a rubber stamp. Although siding with the wrong Argead in an accession battle was one way to both lose that status and one’s life. Yet even then, and while Argeads regularly offed their competition for the throne, it doesn’t seem that they executed that competitor’s supporters without a good reason.

New kings frequently needed the support of enough important Hetairoi in order to survive and claim the throne. Witness Alexander’s accession. He was (apparently) challenged by his cousin Amyntas (IV) in a totally predictable move, and was able to arrest Amyntas and put him to death because he was backed by Antipatros (and eventually, Parmenion). Attalos was executed as well only because Parmenion agreed to it. And Alexander paid handsomely for that support in plum commands for Parmenion’s two eldest sons, Philotas and Nikanor. (Yes, both proved perfectly capable, even if Philotas was apparently something of a jerk, but getting those two slots did not owe to either ability or age as both were rather young. It owed to Daddy Parmenion supporting the new king.)

We know rather less about the accessions of Philip and (earlier) his brothers because the sources are a mess, but it’s clear a LOT of infighting—and horse-trading—occurred, including even outside interference from Thebes and Pelopidas, then again from Iphikrates and Athens.

So the power of kings, while it could be extensive, depended entirely on their own success and personal charisma. As Gene Borza liked to say, “The Macedonian king could get away with whatever he could get away with.” Early in a king’s reign, that usually wasn’t much.

Why this matters? Not only was Alexander’s accession challenged, but so was that of his father before him. We don’t know exactly what support Philip had, but I’m willing to bet it included Antipatros. If we can use names as a clue (and I think we can), Antipatros was either the son or grandson of a man named Iolas who’d functioned as regent under Perdikkas II back during the Peloponnesian War. E.g., he came from an established high-ranking Hetairos family. Later, Antipatros would help Alexander to the throne too, and then was a major player in the early years of the Successor Wars after ATG died. So he saw at least two kings, maybe three, to the throne.

As for Parmenion, we just don’t know. Charles Edson connected him to the Pelagonian royal house (of Upper Macedonia) via an inscription. This has mostly been followed by subsequent scholars, even though later in Philip’s reign, he married his daughter to Attalos and had land around Amphipolis, giving him ties to Lower Macedonia. Ergo, some have suggested he wasn’t from Pelagonia after all, but I see no reason both things can’t be true. With the taking of Amphipolis, a number of (already) wealthy Macedonian Hetairoi were given additional estates. That was part of a Macedonian king’s job: win wars and distribute loot (including land).

As for when he appeared on the scene? If he really was from Pelagonia, I suspect that Philip met him as a result of the invasions of (Illyrian) Bardylis. That’s where Pelagonia is: the border between the two areas. In fact, Pelagonia (like Lynkestis) may have had Illyrians living there, or married into the royal clan (like Lynkestian Eurydike’s father, Sirras). Parmenion (and his troops) may even have been significant in Philip’s victory over the Illyrians just a year into his reign. Certainly, he was already trusted enough to get independent commands by 356—when we’re told he was successful in a battle around the time Alexander was born. (Philip reportedly received 3 pieces of good news on one day: that Parmenion had won a major battle, that his horse won at the Olympics, and that Alexander was born alive and apparently healthy.) Below, Alexander Sarcophagus ... Parmenion *might* be the dude on the far right.

Philip’s early career established a pattern of Antipatros remaining as regent in Pella while Parmenion was off winning battles with/for Philip. Although Antipatros was perfectly capable as a military commander (as he showed during Agis’s Revolt, et al.), he probably wasn’t as good as Parmenion. Besides, and while we can’t prove it with any certainty, it’s at least plausible that Antipatros’s family had some historic claim on the office of the regent. (So above.)

That said, on a couple occasions Parmenion did act as Philip’s ambassador, so he also had non-military assignments equal in prestige to Antipatros’. This might have furthered the implied antipathy between the two at Philip’s court, with each having his own faction and allies: Antipatros-Antigonos-Balakros-Alexander of Lynkestis vs. Parmenion-Attalos-[Krateros?]. But IF Krateros were initially on Parmenion’s side, he later changed to go after Philotas, then married Antipatros’s daughter Phila after ATG’s death. This is useful to note, as we make a mistake if we assume alliances can’t change. After all, I suspect that at one point, Hephaistion and Krateros were friendly. Later, Hephaistion and Perdikkas may have been…but so were (maybe?) Hephaistion and Ptolemy, and Ptolemy (famously) hated Perdikkas.

The king may even have subtly encouraged such competition as he wouldn’t have wanted any one figure to be too powerful compared to himself. A family with that much power could decide to assassinate the king and put another (more pliable) Argead in his place, thereby effectively ruling from the shadows.

So, the alliances of 336 when Philip was murdered do not necessarily have to be the same as they were 12 years later when Alexander died. I think it tough to be sure who was aligned with whom for any length of time. A lot of this is based on chance events and later Successor War ties. But that’s not always a reliable metric. After all, if Plutarch can be believed, Krateros and Eumenes were good friends…except Eumenes was the author of the battlefield trick that resulted in Krateros’s death, and they fought on opposite sides in the Successor Wars. (Krateros with Antipatros and Antigonos against Eumenes and Perdikkas.)

Anyway, I hope this helps explain why Antipatros and Parmenion had different roles at Philip’s court.

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If possible, could you talk a bit about the Alexander of Lyncestis affair? I always get mixed up about it (because of the relation to Antipater and Parmenion). Do you think he really wrote to Darius and would had murdered Alexander if he hadn't been stopped?

First, a quick summary of who he was, and the importance of Lynkestis vis-à-vis Macedon, then I’ll explain the conspiracy and why it’s possible Parmenion framed him.

Welcome, btw, to the Wonderful World of Macedonian Prosopography. I am a crazy person and love this stuff. 😝 Also, because we have too many Alexanders, I’m going to call Alexander the Great “ATG” throughout.

Alexander’s father was Airopos (Aeropus), basileus* of Lynkestis, cousin of Philip’s mother, Eurydike. When Airopos was banished by Philip at some point during the Charioneia campaign (338), his eldest son Alexander became basileus in turn. Alexander had two younger brothers, Heromenes and Arrhabaios, and probably unmentioned sisters.

He married Antipatros’s daughter, although we’re not told when. Antipatros’s kids are curious. The man was older than both Philip and even Parmenion, but had a string of offspring (7 boys and 4? girls) who seem to have been mostly ATG’s generation or younger. Perhaps he married late. Or his first wife was barren/had only a few children, and he married again after she died. We know the names of 3 of Antipatros’s daughters: Phila, Eurydike, and Nikaia, but there may have been an older fourth. The wife of Alexander of Lynkestis was not the famously clever Phila, already married to Balakros (later married to Krateros, and then to Demetrios Poliorketes). Possibly she was Eurydike or Nikaia, who didn’t marry (again?) till after ATG’s death. Yet if so, I’d expect the earlier marriage to the Lynkestian to be mentioned when we hear of them during the Successor Wars (as with Phila). Ergo, I suspect this an older, 4th daughter.

We don’t know Alexander’s age when he took control of Lynkestis. Airopos was still in the army in 338, so no older than his 60s, making him a contemporary of his cousin, the queen mother (Eurydike). This puts a terminus ante quem of mid-40s for Alexander of Lynkestis, but he could have been as young as late 20s (not any younger). I think mid/late 30s a safe guess.

As for his canton…before Philip, Lynkestis was an independent kingdom in Upper Macedonia located around Lake Ohrid. (See Selena’s map from my novel.) Along with Elimeia, Lynkestis had a troubled history with lowland Macedonia and the Argead royal house. On multiple occasions, they’d supported alternative Argeads for the throne—mostly to destabilize Macedon. Recent archaeology at Tribinishte (ancient Lychnidos) shows wealth and cultural development by the mid-500s (Archaic Age). But they seem to have been culturally distinct from lowland populations around Aegae, Sindos, and Archontiko (whose archaeology also shows wealth from c. 570 onward). The Lynkestian royal house had ties to Illyrian royal houses via intermarriage. Philip’s mother, a Lynkestian princess, was arguably half-Illyrian (see Beth Carney’s relatively recent monograph on her).

My main point is that these people had been independent, and quite powerful, for a few hundred years before Philip brought them under the Macedonian yoke. He did the same thing to Elimeia, in the southern highlands, as well as Orestis, sandwiched in-between, plus Pelagonia and Eordia. With the possible exception of the latter, and Almopia, these areas were NOT that firmly under the Macedonian heel. (See map again)

This explains why ATG would so readily believe the younger Lynkestian brothers were involved in Philip’s murder. They even had Phillip’s banishment of their father as an incentive. Initially, the older brother Alexander was included in the accusation, but as he supported ATG immediately after Philip’s murder, and had Antipatros protecting him, he was acquitted.

This isn’t to say a conspiracy against Philip existed involving any of them, but for historical reasons, it was an easy sell to claim there had been.

We tend to think of Philip as Master of his Castle and forget his subjugation of the upper cantons was relatively recent, and perhaps not so settled as later historians present it. The 338 banishment of Airopos is a good clue to continued unrest. Airopos and his buddy were exiled for bringing flute girls into camp (breaking Philip’s rules). But this wasn’t about the girls—it was about challenging Philip’s authority. Airopos fled to Athens, with whom Lynkestis had a long history too. As early as the Peloponnesian War, Lynkestis and Athens had ganged up on Perdikkas II.

Philip may have wanted to be rid of a troublesome father in favor of a more tractable son. Married to a daughter of Antipatros, his trusted regent, Philip preferred Alexander. It’s not unlike what he did in Epiros earlier. He’d chased out Arybbas, Olympias’s uncle, to put her brother Alexander on the throne because he trusted Alexander’s loyalty. (Yeah, too many Alexanders.)

In any case, Alexander of Lynkestis’s tie to Antipatros would elevate him under Philip and save him under Alexander—at least once.

Before we go on, I have to explain another court rivalry that isn’t about Alexander of Lynkestis, but would impact him. That’s the (apparent) rivalry between Antipatros and Parmenion.

Antipatros’s family seems to have had ties to the Argead royal house. During the Peloponnesian War, an ancestor held an important command and regency under Perdikkas II. Antipatros himself had been advisor and regent to Phil’s older brother, Perdikkas III. Philip “inherited” him, and some stories from Athenaeus’s Supper Party suggests he may have found him a bit intimidating. Antipatros was also a friend of Aristotle, and penned several histories and other works.

Contrast Parmenion. His rise at court coincided with Philip’s kingship and they were personal friends. It’s been suggested he was a relative of the Pelagonian royal family, whose basileus was a Philotas (probably not Parmenion’s own father, but you’ve seen how popular royal names repeat). Pelagonia is tucked up against Lynkestis and Illyria. Perhaps even more than Lynkestis, Pelagonia had Illyrian ties. Anyway, if that’s true, I wouldn’t be surprised if Philip first met Parmenion when he put down Bardylis in his first year or so on the throne.

Wherever he came from, Parmenion was a New Man at Philip’s court in contrast to Antipatros’s establishment position. A rivalry is understandable. That also means they would be looking for ways to undermine the other via proxies. Like Alexander of Lynkestis.

The 334 arrest of Alexander of Lynkestis in Syria for conspiracy is a holdover from ATG’s accession crisis, rather than something new. Returning a moment to Philip’s murder, ATG accused Darius of being involved, but if he had been, it was likely only in terms of offering money and a place to escape to for Pausanias. Darius later tried to suborn Attalos, but Attalos turned over Darius’s letter to ATG. It didn’t save him. There was also an Amyntas, son of Antiochus, who hated Alexander so much he fled to Darius’s court (and who was, in fact, supposedly Alexander of Lynkestis’s contact there).

We see Darius willing to exploit already existing fractures in Macedonian politics. Persians had been doing that in Greece for over a hundred years.

So, I don’t doubt a letter from Darius was intercepted by Parmenion on the person of a Persian courier. After questioning [torturing] the courier for the plot, Parmenion sent both letter and courier to ATG, claiming the letter was Darius’s reply to Alexander of Lynkestis, after an earlier overture from the Lynkestian. Maybe. But Alexander of Lynkestis had fared well under ATG. In thanks for his support after Philip’s death, ATG had first given him command in Thrace, then later elevated him to command of the Thessalian Cavalry, the most prestigious cavalry unit after the Companions themselves.

According to the letter, Darius had promised Alexander of Lynkestis the Macedonian throne plus 100 talents…if he’d kill ATG.

For a variety of reasons, some reactionary against ATG, Parmenion is often painted rather rosily by modern historians. Without diminishing the fact ATG murdered him, Parmenion didn’t get to his position by playing nice. Not long before, he’d thrown Attalos under the bus. Perhaps he did so out of loyalty to his friend Philip, and who he’d wanted to inherit the throne—but note that Parmenion’s eldest sons walked away with really plum assignments, especially for their ages: Philotas in command of the entire Companion cavalry, and Nikanor in command of the entire Hypaspists. And of course, Daddy got to stay #2 in the army. Alexander would have been a fool to demote him, but Parmenion understood how to play power games.

Antipatros might be back in Macedonia, but his allies had been plucking nice assignments too, post-Granikos. Balakros (son-in-law) was the new satrap of Cilicia, Antigonos Monophthalmos satrap of Phrygia, and Antigonos’s cousin Kallas also had a new satrapy…freeing command of the Thessalians for Alexander of Lynkestis. Parmenion might have worried Antipatros was getting ATG to put people in place to undermine Parmenion’s influence.  

It’s important to keep an eye on who is aligned with whom. I don’t think it outside the realm of possibility that Parmenion framed Alexander of Lynkestis to undercut Antipatros.

The offer of the Macedonian throne is curious. The Lynkestian house is often noted as related to Philip and Alexander. But the most recent tie was via Eurydike, Philip’s mother. That would give Philip a possible claim on the Lynkestian throne…but not a claim of Alexander or his brothers to the Macedonian throne, which could only pass to an Argead. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t an older marriage tie between the two houses, but the link is less clear (our sources suck).

My point is that Alexander of Lynkestis’s claim on the Macedonian throne might be no stronger than one from the Elimeian royal family, or Orestian, or Eordian…. Even if Darius gave him 100 talents, that’s a brush-off. Darius wasn’t going to help Alexander of Lynkestis keep the throne. He just wanted to see ATG dead and the succession in turmoil…so the Macedonians would sink back into the bogs that spawned them and leave HIM alone.

Given Alexander of Lynkestis’s current high position at ATG’s court, but also the precariousness of the army in Asia, making a deal with Darius wouldn’t have been in his best interest (imo). Yet accusing Alexander of such a deak would have been in Parmenion’s interest. And it wouldn’t be hard to convince ATG of such a conspiracy, as Alexander of Lynkestis had been accused once before of plotting the assassination of an Argead.

ATG, or perhaps his advisors, decided to err on the side of caution and arrested Alexander of Lynkestis. But he wasn’t killed. ATG didn’t want to piss off Antipatros. Or he didn’t entirely believe Parmenion. Maybe both. So he had Alexander of Lynkestis carted around under house arrest until the army got to Baktria 3½-4 years later.

I find it ironic that Alexander of Lynkestis met his end as part of the fallout from the Philotas Affair—which he had nothing to do with. ATG just finally felt strong enough in his kingship to get rid of inconvenient baggage. So Alexander of Lynkestis was put to death alongside the son of the man who possibly framed Alexander in the first place, and who would shortly be murdered himself. Perhaps it gave Alexander some bitter satisfaction as he stood beside Philotas, facing down the “firing squad” of spear throwers.

* Basileus means “king,” and these men were kings before being absorbed by Macedon under Philip. Yet by ATG’s day, the Greek term is best translated “princeling.” They were hereditary canton governors now.

On Prosopography: I use a lot of “appears to,” “seems,” and other qualifying terms because so much prosopography is built on probabilities, not certainties. We infer a lot. For those unsure what a prosopographer does, we try to discern the relationships between people, and how that may impact their political choices and alliances. 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon for the ancient world.

Initial prosopography of Alexander’s court was done by Helmut Berve at the beginning of the 20th century: Das Alexanderreich auf Prosopographischer Grundlage, I & II. In the late ‘70s/early 80s, Waldemar Heckel began to revamp that (in English) in a series of articles about the court and army. In the early 90s, he published the first edition of The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire. As the name suggests, it focused only on the men. In 2006, he produced Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great, that did include women. At roughly the same time (they’re contemporaries), Elizabeth Carney was publishing on women at the court, notably in Women and Monarchy in Macedonia. But she’d also published a number of articles on politics that included men too.

HUGE-ass (32-page, before tables and histograms) onomastic article is DONE in draft. It has eaten years of my life, and includes a digital mapping project of which I am SUPER-proud. Digital history FTW.

Must still be edited, and some sort of regularization imposed on the insane numerical-alphabet soup that is epigraphical citation. (Why does almost EVERY damn source have to do things just a little different? My head wants to explode.) Still an intro to write on the digital side, and a couple lat./long. errors to correct (have 1-2 in the SEA).

But this might actually get submitted before the end of the year (although God alone knows how long until it sees print). I think this will prove (as definitively as possible, given our limited evidence) that Hephaistion’s family was Attic-Ionian. It might also shed some light on the process of naturalization in Macedonia for immigrants.