The first four principes after Augustus all ruled by virtue of their relationship to the founder of the principate. By the end of the reign of Nero, few men were left who could claim to be descended from Divus Augustus. This led to a series of civil wars, won by a man who had no familial relationship with the domus Augusta. By AD 69, the position of princeps had been codified beyond the hereditary charisma of Augustus. But as we see in the lex de imperio Vespasiani, the Senate recognized the legal claim of Vespasian to rule as princeps was based on the original position created by Augustus, a position solidified by the attitude and actions of Augustus’ successor, Tiberius.

The introduction provides a brief overview of the principal arguments of the book and a description of each chapter. In particular, I present the argument that because Tiberius was forced to rely upon the charisma of Augustus to consolidate his power, he routinized that charisma into the position of princeps.

This chapter evaluates previous scholarship on charismatic leadership in the ancient world, pointing out the lack of a definitive analysis of Max Weber’s actual statements on charisma and its routinization. It includes a discussion of the routinization of charisma from scholars in organizational leadership as well as political science. It also examines the transition of power after the death of Augustus. Although our sources are problematic, we can see Tiberius trying to simultaneously imitate Augustus’ actions in 27 BC while also declaring his reverence for his predecessor and his own inferiority.

The Conclusion uses the downfall of Nero to consider the legacy of the body politic metaphor in Roman political thought. Julio-Claudian writers relied on the duality of head and body to express fears about the recurrence of civil war. Without a head to command Rome’s warring limbs, they argued, Rome would return to its ancestral cycle of self-destruction. The Year of the Four Emperors confirmed the prescience of their warnings. Plutarch and Tacitus relied on symbolism of a headless body politic to describe the conflict, confirming their perception of sole rule as necessary if not ideal. This contest for power therefore did not weaken the Principate so much as confirm its viability as an institution independent of its Augustan origins. With the rise of the Flavians came the formalization of both sole rule and the Imperial model of the body politic for centuries to come.

The Introduction presents the main questions and aims of the book. I argue that Roman thinkers used the metaphor of the body politic to articulate competing visions of the res publica between the Catilinarian Conspiracy and Year of the Four Emperors. I frame my discussion in relation to the Cambridge School of intellectual history, which has catalyzed the revival of interest in classical republicanism. In contrast to its focus on questions of liberty and popular sovereignty, my book turns towards problems of statesmanship and constitutional transformation. It asks how a foundational metaphor of civic organization evolved in response to the establishment of autocracy. It foregrounds the importance of metaphor as an avenue of political thought.

Chapter 3 explores how the models of the healer and head of state converged around the figure of the princeps. Although each proved useful in validating the Principate, their distinctive Republican histories invested them with divergent imperial trajectories. Because Cicero had already integrated the figure of the healer into Republican discourse, Augustan writers could soon locate the princeps in this role as well. The regal resonance of the caput, in contrast, made it unavailable as a descriptor of the “first citizen.” It is therefore absent in the works of Vergil, Horace, and Propertius. Yet for a society steeped in organic comparisons and confronted with constitutional change, the utility of the metaphor was obvious. Livy responded to this quandary in his first pentad, which depicts three stages in the life cycle of the Roman body politic: a regal polity topped by a caput, a Republic structured around the Fable of the Belly, and a fusion of these two forms under Camillus. Livy’s narrative thereby helped make the head of state metaphor available for contemporary usage. As Augustus’ rule came to an end, Ovid finally began identifying him as the caput orbis.

Chapter 5 locates the Younger Seneca and Lucan in a shared conversation about the long-term ramifications of sole rule. It opens with a reading of Seneca’s De Clementia, which is the first text to theorize the metaphors of the healer and head of state. Using both to construct a persuasive ideal of imperial interdependence, Seneca described a body politic whose health vacillates in proportion to the virtue of its princeps. The sick heads and overzealous surgeons that crop up in his other works, however, confirm the risks of such an arrangement. Lucan took this idea as his point of departure in the Bellum Civile, which responds to the imagistic framework of De Clementia through the characters of Sulla and Pompey. Portraying the former as a surgeon who makes excessive use of the scalpel and the latter as a head who suffers the mutiny of his limbs, he portrayed a body politic that was harmed but yet unable to survive without its rulers. He thereby conveyed the futility of politics in a society doomed to civil war.

Chapter 4 identifies the Tiberian era as the moment when Roman writers started representing the establishment of the Principate as a civic rebirth. Benefiting from the hindsight granted by half a century of peace, Manilius, Velleius Paterculus, and Valerius Maximus constructed a triumphant narrative that equated the acquisition of a head of state with the end of civil war. Yet their imagery also betrayed growing concern over the succession, a weakness encoded in the fabric of the Principate’s Republican façade. This problem became acute with the violent assassination of Caligula, which exposed the vulnerability of a political community dependent on one man for its survival. Those writing under Claudius, including the Elder Seneca, Philo of Alexandria, and Curtius Rufus, consequently began returning to imagery of a sick, aged, and headless body politic. Their revival of this tradition confirmed that the Augustan restoration was not a permanent solution. With each transfer of power came a new head of state who could harm or heal the body under his care.

Nobody knows the identity or background of the Roman author Q. Curtius Rufus, or when he wrote his History of Alexander the Great. This text along with Arrian’s Anabasis, Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, Diodorus Siculus Book 17 and Justin’s Epitome of Trogus Books 11–12 and the Metz Epitome is one of the main ancient sources on the reign and campaigns of the Macedonian conqueror. This chapter surveys current thinking on Curtius’ history, including issues like the historian’s probable sources, his literary structure, intertexuality and his characterization of Alexander. In particular the chapter explores the historian’s excursuses – in which he appears to be speaking in propria persona on Alexander’s personality as well as his portrayal of Alexander’s relationships with women, including the Athenian courtesan, Thais ,and the Amazon queen, Thalestris, and especially, the Persian queen, Sisygambis, the mother of Darius III.

Dio in his imperial narrative has a distinctive technique of evaluating emperors, based on how he saw the informational constraints of the monarchical state. He tends to frame his assessments of emperors as descriptions of how they were perceived by contemporaries rather than as his own unique insights into how they ‘really’ were. This chapter applies James C. Scott's concept of ‘public transcripts’ and ‘hidden transcripts’ to Dio’s methodological statements and then his narrative of the Julio-Claudian, Flavian and Antonine emperors. Dio is a self-consciously acute and skeptical observer of the performance of imperial power and the reception of that performance by contemporary observers. This for him is a major component of what historiography exists to record in an environment where the actual realities of power politics cannot be fully known or discussed. The chapter concludes by looking at how this narrative stance changes in Dio’s contemporary narrative, in which he is a personal witness, but the emperors are youthful figureheads, whose performances become ever more detached from either the realities of politics or the experience of the senatorial aristocracy.

This chapter outlines the expansion of the Roman Empire during the Republican period and goes on to discuss the consequences of this expansion, the subsequent installation of a military monarchy (principate) and the Roman boundaries during that time. It discusses the Roman Empire as a legal, cultural and economic area, and the underlying factors behind its spatial dimensions. It shows that Rome’s wars and expansion were a by-product of multiple coexisting factors, ranking from predatory imperialism to the need to defend itself and its allies against other predators, from the magistrates’ quest for glory to the generals’ need to boost the morale of their armies and acquire political backing from the soldiers. Under the principate the factors influenced the empire’s expanding or contracting borders ranged from the desire of certain emperors to immortalize themselves by crossing the ocean, the symbolic limit of orbis terrarum), to the need to maintain the armies within the ecologically sustainable areas, to the degree of pressure from the empire’s enemies and recalcitrant subjects. Rather than presenting a one-size-fits-all explanation to the empire’s territorial extent, I follow the historical narrative which outlines multiple factors that influenced the empire’s size at every given moment.