Bryn Mawr Classical Review

2012.01.52

2012-01-30T22:58:00.001-05:00

Michael F. Wagner, The Enigmatic Reality of Time: Aristotle, Plotinus, and Today. Ancient Mediterranean and medieval texts and contexts. Studies in Platonism, Neoplatonism, and the Platonic Tradition v. 7. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2008. Pp. viii, 384. ISBN 9789004170254. $182.00.

Reviewed by José Baracat, Jr., Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul (baracatjr@hotmail.com)

Version at BMCR home site

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[I wish to apologize to the author and to BMCR editors and readers for the tardiness of this review.]

As its title announces, Wagner's book comprises three large parts: "Dimensions of Time's Enigma", "Aristotle's Real Account of Time", and "Plotinus' Vitalistic Platonism and the Real Origins of Time". The avalanche of themes discussed can in outline be described as follows.

In the first part, roughly the "today" of time's enigma, Wagner considers the possibility of time's reality, exploring the meanings of two primary senses in which time may be said to be unreal, and the consequences they may bring to the investigation of time's reality. The first is that the concept "time" would not actually denote anything; the second, that what the term "time" denotes would not be in fact time. Through the three chapters of this part, Wagner discusses (not only, but mainly) contemporary approaches to time, especially approaches based on internalization of time and approaches based on the Theory of Relativity; also discussed is McTaggart's contribution to the philosophy of time, which has been rendered fallaciously until now as a denial of time's reality, according to Wagner (6).

Wagner boldly avers his conception of time right from the outset: there are two epigraphs to the book, one by Saint Augustine and the other by Wagner himself, in which he states: "time is the feature of existence in virtue of which, as its contents and constituents proceed and change, what was no longer is and what will be is not yet" (v). With such conception of time, one can foresee that Wagner will refute internalization approaches (since they "either in fact constitute denials of time's reality or else they simply do not address the question", 4), and also "static conceptions" of time (e.g. Relativity's space-time, which, being "static conceptions of time in fact are not conceptions of time's real nature but rather constitute denials of its reality", 5).

It is impossible to fairly reproduce Wagner's long discussions, but I am afraid that other readers will feel the same as I did: the elements of Wagner's conception of time, by which he measures, analyses, and refutes other conceptions, are not philosophically clear and defined: what is "a feature of existence"? Whose existence? Is there a difference between "contents" and "constituents"? Even the distinction between "static" and "dynamic" conceptions of time requires more elaboration than that given in the book (60-2): the classification of Einstein's conception of time (or "contemporary scientific Eleaticism") as a "static" one, suggesting that it cannot account for the change implied by time, is a petitio principii, for its fundamental argument is the vague and instinctive assertion that time's nature is "dynamic", and that discussing the question otherwise is not addressing the question or failing to see time's "real" nature (cf. 62-3).

The second part is a study of Aristotle's investigation of time in Physics IV and VI. To Wagner, "contemporary scholarship has treated Aristotle's investigation superficially and piecemeal", failing to see that, for him, "time is real in some intermediate sort of way" (p. 8), being neither entirely real nor entirely unreal. As with part one, this second part comprises dozens of interrelated investigations.

Part three focuses on Plotinus, to which Wagner also claims to take "a novel approach", "positing that Plotinus' account of time is most properly and accurately understood by locating it firmly in the Classical tradition of Greek naturalism, wherein time is real if and only if the natural universe is in reality a (the) temporal universe. This aspect of Plotinus' account is typically overlooked owing…to an inadequate understanding of and attention to his philosophical methodology" (12).

I cannot understand why Wagner overlooks many complexities of Plotinus' treatise "On Eternity and Time" (III.7 [45]). One single example: the striking first person plural eirgasmetha, in III.7.11.20 ("we have constructed time as an image of eternity"), is not even mentioned by Wagner, who seems to take for granted that the World Soul is responsible for the production of time.

Having so crudely summarized the book's content, I must state my admiration for Wagner before presenting features of this book which I find difficult to assess and sometimes even unacceptable.

The bibliography does not contain a single work not written in English. There are important studies of Aristotle and Plotinus written in other languages. Since they are neglected by Wagner, the reader may doubt whether he can so openly claim to be presenting innovative interpretations, or the "real" account of a philosopher.¹

As a matter of fact, the bibliography is decorative: few titles are cited in the book. The chapters on Aristotle and on Plotinus does not refer to any Aristotelian or Plotinian scholar, despite important authors (such as Michael Inwood and Andrew Smith) being included in the bibliography.

The absence of discussion of secondary literature raises suspicion that the book is aimed at non-specialists. And there are other signs. See for example the characterization of philosophers ("an extraordinary classical Greek thinker named Parmenides", 8; see 276) and loose assertions like this: "Like all classical Greek philosophers, Aristotle uses 'nature' [physis] in a general way to designate our cosmos (universe) as a whole" (151), which, if not wholly false, is nonetheless far from being wholly true, for in Plato and Aristotle physis denotes more often the intrinsic form or constitution of a thing, nearer to "ousia" than to kosmos. But I think that neither Brill nor Wagner intended this book to be in the hands of laymen.

There is no conclusion to the investigations pursued in the book. More importantly, it is not always clear whose translations Wagner is quoting; for Husserl or Bergson, e.g., the translations seem to be those listed in the bibliography; but, for Aristotle's Physics and Metaphysics, and for Plotinus' Enneads, information is confusing or lacking: the bibliography mentions only Ross' and Jaeger's Oxford editions of Aristotle, so we deduce that Wagner is responsible for the translations. For Plotinus's Enneads, Wagner employs Armstrong's Loeb translation for longer quotations in chapter 9, but for short quotations in that chapter and for all quotations in chapters 10-12 the translations are his own, without warning. As for the Greek text of Plotinus, one infers that Wagner uses that printed by Armstrong, which is the text edited by H.-R. Schwyzer and P. Henry. There is no problem in this, except for the fact that line numeration of prose texts in Loeb editions are imprecise and, as Wagner quotes line numbers precisely, one suspects he is not using (only) it.

Errors of typography and transliteration of Greek words are abundant: Dodds for Dobbs (138); Steele for Steel (110, 111); to-ti-ein-einai (which Wagner translates "the-what-it-is-to-be") for to-ti-en-einai (the-what-it-was-to-be) (149); pantaxou for pantachou or pantakhou (180, 362); megista genera for megista gene (285); aeion for aion (291); ex hypothesis (262); and many more.

There are many problems in the translation and quotation of Greek texts that do not seem to be typographic slips but are simply wrong. E.g.: 275 (quoting Plotinus, III.7.1.2): "what exists eternally (ton aidion einai)" – transliteration is wrong (it should be ten), and the English text does not correspond to it; the phrase is: [legontes] peri ten aidion einai physin ("saying [that eternity] is around the perpetual nature", einai being complement of the participle legontes). The same occurs in 287: he ousia einai as the equivalent for "substantial existence", when in fact einai is the complement of another verb and he ousia is the subject of the sentence. In 276: "to noeton ousia" (instead of the correct text of III.7.2.2: ten noeten ousian) and "to aistheton ousia" (which is not in Plotinus' text, but should be he aisthete ousia). In 322-3 (translating III.7.8.34ff.): we find to polu translated as "plenitude" (instead of "multiplicity"); ennoia as "impression" (instead of "idea" or "notion"); a causal dative as a concessive clause; and the causal "on account of" for a simple en. The latter imprecision is recurrent (cf. 354, 345, 323) and affects Wagner's investigations: he translates "in time" as "in virtue of time" or "on account of time", thus implying a causative relation where there is none (i.e. motion happens in time, not in virtue of time, since its cause may be, say, my hand).

Wagner translates (344) the crucial passage of Enn. III.7.11.30-31 as follows: "in asserting itself independently from eternity, it [soul] produced time…" (there are more problems in the sequence, but I will limit myself to these lines) – the first phrase does not exist in the Greek text, which reads: "having produced this [probably the sensible cosmos] instead of eternity, first it [soul] temporalized itself…". Wagner understands that "it [i.e. soul] produced time", simply ignoring Plotinus's intriguing neologism, the verb khronoun, and its complement, the reflexive pronoun heauten: "soul temporalized itself". But what does it mean for soul to have temporalized itself if it is eternal (as Plotinus states in IV.4.15)? Wagner does not even mention this.

He complains about Plotinus' "syntactically and semantically ambiguous" Greek (323) when he is to interpret III.7.8.49-52; after translating it, keeping the word athroa not translated, he makes a philological incursion into the meanings of that word in order to show that the passage in question has not been correctly understood until now. The first sentence, in Wagner's translation: "motion which is not athroa is distinguishable from motion which is athroa by virtue of time". According to Wagner (324), athroa can mean both "all-at-once", "instantaneous", or "continuous", "ongoing" – and he is right. Though all translations and studies in the world have preferred the first meaning – so that the difference is one between a movement that happens instantaneously and one that requires time to occur–, Wagner chooses the second meaning: for him "it is more reasonable to understand Plotinus' contrast between motion which is not athroa and motion which is athroa to distinguish motion which is not ongoing or unceasing...from motion which is ongoing or unceasing" (325). Having in mind that, in the context, Plotinus is precisely refuting the hypothesis that time is, or is related to, physical movement, Wagner's "novel approach" is difficult to sustain: surely both motions are distinguished in time (one may take 10 seconds, the other may proceed infinitely and so last for an infinite amount of time). But this is not the case: both motions occur in time, be they short or endless. Plotinus is stating that time cannot be movement, because there are movements that can happen instantaneously, and these do not occur in time.

Throughout the book we read imprecise statements, as if Wagner did not expect his reader to be another scholar. For example, Wagner says that "it is patently absurd…to suppose ¬ as contemporary commentaries on Plotinus' account of time typically do suppose (and assert) – that the regular or standard rhythm, for example, of Soul's activity as it 'rouses' a human heart to beat and the regular or standard rhythm of Soul's activity as it 'prods and pushes' the outermost Heavenly sphere in its repeating circular motion are somehow the same" (356). It is patently absurd, indeed! But which commentaries typically do it? Wagner does not say. I've read a good number of studies on Plotinus' theory of time, but I've never met anything slightly similar to it.

Wagner is not an ordinary scholar: he is a provocative thinker who always deserves to be read. But with caution, this time.

Notes:

1. See e.g. the excellent studies of Fernando Rey Puente (Os Sentidos do Tempo em Aristóteles, Loyola: São Paulo, 2001) and Alessandro Trotta (Il Problema del Tempo in Plotino, Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 1997), and their generous bibliography.

2012.01.51

2012-01-30T19:22:00.001-05:00

Nicolini on Hunink on Nicolini, Ad (L)usum lectoris: etimologia e giochi di parole in Apuleio. Response to 2012.01.03

Response by Lara Nicolini, Pisa (l.nicolini@sns.it)

Version at BMCR home site

Responding to a review may seem unnecessary and unpleasant, and has often seemed so to me. But circumstantial criticism of specific matters is one thing, specious remarks quite another – especially if such remarks, stemming from a personal and biased reading, call into question the author's whole philological method, and on occasion come close to insult. May I therefore call upon Ovid's words, turpe quidem contendere erat, sed cedere visum / turpius.

Hunink is certainly correct in the most emphatic of his substantial claims, that there are typos in the index locorum. I suspect that an attentive reading will reveal an even greater number of inaccuracies, which is unfortunate and a regrettable oversight on my part. (I do take some consolation from my experience as a reader, since I got used to finding this kind of error in those long series of numbers that usually form the indexes: I presume it is sort of a natural characteristic of such treacherous appendices ...). I hope this problem will be sorted out in the next printing of the book.¹

However, I simply fail to see why this error, that in the end is so common and widespread, should be considered a real crimen to be laid against this book. Unless, of course, one accepts Hunink's premise, that readers will only consult it rather than read it from cover to cover: on the contrary, I think that a selective reading based on index entries is not an appropriate way to approach the book (even less so by a reviewer I should add). This approach inevitably results in some misunderstandings. Indexes are extremely useful tools but, if I may use a metaphor, they are also 'blind'. This is perhaps even more true of the index locorum, which puts together disjointed passages, sampled from different chapters of a book and only connected by their proximity in the text.

Were this work a lexicographical one, Hunink would be right in considering the numerical typos in its index a gross negligence rather than a venial sin. However, this book is neither a lexicon nor a catalogue. It is a new study of Apuleius' style which aims to offer an original key to the interpretation of his work as a whole. Examples are used as supporting evidence for my argument: they are not the argument. I have started from a hypothesis, tested my idea through a close scrutiny of the Latin text, and finally reached a conclusion about what I believe to be a crucial aspect of Apuleius' writing. A reader who wants to evaluate this book fairly is actually expected to read it from cover to cover. Then again, the book can certainly be consulted as a repertoire of remarks on individual passages, and this option is offered and made easier by the presence of indexes. Yet, it remains a monograph on an extremely important aspect of Apuleius' linguistic experimentalism and is by no means a collection of stylistic oddities. It is any reviewer's right, of course, to agree or disagree with an author; but it is not fair to describe the book under review as something different than what it is.

I feel bound to clarify at least the major points where misunderstandings seem to arise from such a reading.

The first problem with relying on the index locorum as a guide through the book is that one finds listed there all kinds of word play (etymological puns, as well as phonic word plays, puns of great effect, and those already noticed by commentators), not to mention all the passages that do not actually include any word play. It is therefore ungenerous, to say the least, to repeatedly point out that "even a beginning reader [sic] of the Latin" would have picked up some of them. In many cases, moreover, the point is not the original discovery of a new word play. For example, it may well be true that even a dilettante would spot the enallage at Met. 11,5,2 fluctuantes Cyprii. This is not a momentous discovery, I agree. Nevertheless, a more extensive reading of the relevant chapter would have revealed the significance of my argument: that the frequent occurrence of enallages like this one, which cause a semantic shift of adjectives (sometimes such a strong shift that it challenges comprehension), should be considered before adopting emendations of such passages as met. 5,23,6 detectae fidei, 6,28,5 compta diligentia, and 8,7,7 adfixo servitio. In all these cases the text is evidently beyond the interpretative abilities of an amateurish reader of Latin, so much so that several talented philologists have tried to emend it. Listing a series of instances serves therefore a purpose in its own right, independent of the significance of every individual passage quoted.

A second consequence of such a 'desultory' reading style is that one might expect to find an instance of word play where there is none, and feel disappointed as a result. This is exactly what happens to Hunink in the case of Met. 11,1,1 (analyzed on p. 55 of my book), where he rightly remarks that "there is no pun involved". No pun is involved, indeed, nor do I see why there should be one. The passage at met. 11,1,1 is brought into the argument for a different reason: it serves only as a parallel to another passage, met. 1,2,1, where the same verb emergo occurs. In this case, the reviewer has another and more serious objection to my method: he clearly does not approve my use of the adjective 'normal' (inverted commas by Hunink) with reference to the usage of emergo in 11,1,1, to support the necessity of an emendation at 1,2,1, where the transmitted text is unproblematic for Hunink (I quote: "The 'normal' use of emergo with separative ablative is adduced ... as evidence against F's reading, emersi me, transitive with accusative"). I cannot understand how one can consider it "outrageous" or simply methodologically wrong that an author's usus scribendi (which, incidentally, is perfectly consistent with classical standards) is used as an argument against a text that appears grammatically unsound. The passage at 11,1,1 (emergentem... fluctibus) is only one of the several passages used as evidence for the consistent Apuleian usage of intransitive emergo, construed either absolutely or with the ablative of origin. The phrase emersi me looks simply impossible to me, and so it has to such distinguished predecessors as Leo, Helm, Robertson, and more recently Keulen, who have emended the transmitted text in different ways. I only add that the simple expunction of me does not solve the problem: notwithstanding the validity of Keulen's arguments (see his comm. ad loc.), I have a serious problem with the transitive usage of emersi, governing the previous accusatives ardua montium et lubrica vallium et roscida cespitum et glebosa camporum. I respect of course position of Hunink, who sees no problem in this. I merely pointed out that Vallette's elegant conjecture, «emensus» emersi, which provides a good solution to the syntactical peculiarity of the phrase, is also supported by Apuleius' propensity to this type of paronomasia, with which I specifically deal in this section of the book (the paleographic explanation of the error is self-evident).

Last but not least, a third consequence of such a casual approach to the book is a gross (and, I have to say, definitely insulting) misunderstanding of my philological method. Hunink repeatedly states that I support more or less recent conjectures against the transmitted reading "because they fit a specific category of puns"; he declares himself "disturbed" by this. He implies that my textual choices are whimsical and arising from a stubborn wish to demonstrate my hypothesis. Perhaps it is true that I do not stand in much awe of the Codex Laurentianus (F), but I do have a great respect for philology, its methods and its principles.

For the benefit of readers who are less familiar with the textual tradition of Apuleius' works it may be useful to recall that F is, in all likelihood, the progenitor of all the available Apuleian manuscripts, and that F was written more or less nine centuries after Apuleius' time. Is it really absurd to question the readings of F, not only when they are clearly corrupt, but also when the rules and conventions of the Latin language are apparently above suspicion? There must be, of course, good grounds for emendation: whenever I support or suggest an emendation, I am always motivated by some inconsistency (be it linguistic or logical) in the transmitted text.

This is particularly evident in the case of the passage pointed out by Hunink. The reading of F in 11,30,4 deserviebat is certainly corrupt: an enormous number of emendations have been put forward to restore the passage, and among them I support one (ibidem serebat) that implies a word play which is also attested elsewhere in the novel. This perfectly reasonable proposal by Oudendorp, already suggested by Beroaldus, is far from being hazardous; indeed, it is clearly better than many other conjectures, as a glance at Helm's or Robertson's apparatus will confirm.

But there is more in the book that suggests that the text of F should perhaps be challenged where it has never been – and this is precisely what displeases Hunink, who protests: "it struck me that the author puts perfectly acceptable manuscript readings into question". This is absolutely true. And I hope this can be regarded as one of the original aspects of my book: it is certainly one that I am proud of.

I shall mention only a couple of cases in which the text of F is not usually called into question: the conjectures conserentes for the transmitted conferentes at Met. 5,15,3, and polentarium for polentacium at Met. 6,19,2 (pp. 128-129, 137-141 in my book) should at least be mentioned in the critical apparatus. I have never emended F to adapt Apuleius' text to my reading and to an aprioristic classification of puns. On the contrary, I devised my classification a posteriori, in order to catalogue the different kinds of etymological puns (real variations on a theme) that Apuleius uses so frequently. This peculiar stylistic feature, Apuleius's penchant for etymology, is the object of my book: I hope I succeeded in showing the continuous presence of it and how it works in the text. This peculiar trait of style can be used – such was my original aim – like any other trait of Apuleius' usus scribendi: it can help us restore and interpret difficult parts of the text, and can guide us towards a correct evaluation of scholarly contributions. This is my method, which I very much regret escaped Professor Hunink.

In my opinion, much can still be done to improve the text of the Metamorphoses and of the other Apuleian works; much is to be expected of M. Zimmerman's forthcoming Oxford edition. I also think that much can be done on the grounds of our always improving knowledge of Apuleius' language and style. We should not let ourselves be caught in a dilemma between a prudently conservative and a boldly innovative stance. Whenever the text of our codex unicus is suspect for reasons of grammar and language, or when doubts exist about its meaning, respect for the paradosis should not prevent us from supporting a good conjecture, if it is based on Apuleius' idiolect and style, finds good parallels, and is paleographically easy to explain.²

Unless one wants to consider the codex Laurentianus 68,2 a unique exception among classical texts, or to think that the philologist's trade is completely pointless.

Notes:

1. Typos in the indexes are admittedly bothersome, but surely there are worse mistakes. One example: the misprinted Latin text humani generi (sospitatrix) (p. 143 in the book – not far from one of the numeric typos mentioned by Hunink) is a linguistic monstrum that escaped not only my attention, and the editor's, but also that of the reviewer, who quotes the phrase exactly as he finds it on the page.
2. It is a really democratic method, if one thinks about it. The very same consideration of the usus scribendi can in fact conversely support the readings of F against unnecessary conjectures, or contribute to the correct interpretation of uncertain passages. Several instances of both cases can be found in my Index rerum.

2012.01.50

2012-01-29T21:43:00.001-05:00

Perrine Galand-Hallyn, Fernand Hallyn, Carlos Lévy, Wim Verbaal (ed.), Quintilien: ancien et moderne études réunies. Latinitates, 3. Turnhout: Brepols, 2009. Pp. 576. ISBN 9782503528656. €95.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Andrea Balbo, Università di Torino (andrea.balbo@unito.it)

Version at BMCR home site

«Modèle pour les pedagogues, les grammairiens, les philologues, les orateurs, comme les poètes et même pour les theoriciens des arts»:¹ it would be difficult to give a more exact appreciation of Quintilian's role in the history of Western culture and literature. This excellent collection of 24 essays, proceedings of a conference held in Gand from 30th November to 3rd December 2005, focuses on the interpretation and exegesis of Quintilian from Antiquity to the Modern age

The first relevant, positive element about this book is its ample scope; if we look at the most recent bibliographical additions to the Quintilian dossier (in the Année Philologique or in the Neue Pauly), we find very few books published in the last 30 years covering the same or similar ground.² The book dwells above all on the interest in Quintilian's works after Antiquity, following a research trend (the Fortleben) that is more and more important in Classical studies. So, the book will be useful not only for classicists or historians of rhetoric, but also for historians of the medieval and modern periods, as well as scholars interested in Medieval and Renaissance literature, researchers who are interested in the history of editing Classical texts and in Church history and Christianity .

The book is divided into three main sections. The first concerns some problems of interpretation of Quintilian's text, the subjects he discusses and Quintilian's role as a source for later declamation and the oratory of the later years of the first century AD. The second section is a detailed survey of Quintilian's influence on medieval and Renaissance authors. Finally, papers in the third section examine the role of Quintilian in the "Classical age" of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

The six chapters of the first part explore first the relationship of Quintilian with the oratorical context of his times. Gualtiero Calboli and Ida Gilda Mastrorosa deal respectively with Quintilian's judgments about the declamatores and some aspects of judicial oratory in the second part of the first century AD, concentrating mainly on Pliny the Younger, who provides excellent information about some of the trials of his age and was himself, at some point, a pupil of Quintilian. The two articles aptly highlight the centrality of Quintilian as evidence for 'real' oratory in a period usually described as a moment of decadence for this literary genre. The next two papers cover the role of the Greek and Roman sources of the Institutio oratoria, with a particular attention, on the one hand, to the connections between Quintilian and the Greek rhetoricians (Chiron), and, on the other, to Cicero as source for knowledge of ancient philosophy (Lévy). The two papers are very important and innovative. Chiron deals with Quintilian's Greek vocabulary in a very subtle way, even if he does not cite the old, but still valuable, works of J. Cousin;³ Lévy dwells on Quintilian's clever use of quotations from Sceptic and Stoic philosophers in the Institutio, drawing an enlightening and detailed picture of Quintilian's philosophical background, and showing him as an intellectual interested in philosophy but in many respects very distant from his main model, Cicero. The final section consists of two papers; the first concerns the written composition, one of the most important elements of the "continuing education" canvassed in Institutio oratoria (M. S. Celentano).The second paper is about the tools and strategies used by the orator in order to reinforce his performance by the means of visible elements, such as imagines, and with a peculiar attention to objects produced expressly for oratorical aims, as the depicted image of Manius Curius prisoner in Quint. Inst. 6.3.72 (Moretti). The two chapters are very successful in stressing the centrality both of the continuous writing practice and of the communicative approach as important elements in Quintilian's rhetorical pedagogy.

The ten papers of the second section analyse Quintilian's influence between the twelfth and sixteenth centuries, focusing especially on Italian and French authors, although two good papers are devoted to John of Salisbury and Erasmus of Rotterdam. Medieval and Renaissance authors see Quintilian as a rhetorician (Lecointe), a theorist of oratorical art, as an important source of declamatory materials (van der Poel). Other papers stress Quintilian's importance as an authority in the context of Medieval literature (Verbaal, Rouillé), in the development of poetical theories (Galand, Leroux) and in pedagogical questions (Nassichuk). Quintilian remained basic reading for all the cultivated people, even if they did not agree with his ideas, as in the case of Pierre de la Ramée, studied by Jean Lecointe. Among the above-mentioned papers I would single out Mariangela Regoliosi's chapter on the influence of Quintilian on Lorenzo Valla. Regoliosi does not limit herself to the well-known commentary in cod. Par. Lat. 7723, but highlights several different facets of Quintilian's influence on Valla (rhetorical and philosophical idioms, use of Greek, and even Valla's own understanding of the rhetorical tradition), describing effectively how Quintilian was the real magister eloquentiae of the Italian humanist.

The third section, made up of eight papers, tells a history of the "republic of letters" from the point of view of the Quintilian reception. Thanks to these studies, the reader understands the great importance of Quintilian's works in the religious world (Jesuits, post-Tridentine preachers, studied respectively by Baffetti and Conte), painters (Hallyn) and the authors of poetical treatises (Bury, Gutbub). The most original among the papers of this section concern authors or problems that have not been deeply studied yet with reference to Quintilian. They provide tangible proof of the great potential for research in the fields of classical survival and reception of the Quintilian tradition. This book offers engaging, wide-ranging discussions ofsome of the most relevant themes of Quintilian's influence and it will be a reference work of great value for many years. The editing of the book has been accurate and there are very few mistakes.⁴ Inclusion of indexes, for instance of ancient and modern passages and namesm, would have been helpful. Also, a final general bibliography instead of separate, short bibliographies at the end of every chapter would have been better.⁵

P. Galand, F. Hallyn †, C. Lévy et W. Verbaal, «Avant-propos», p. 5
Première partie
Quintilien dans l'antiquité: ses lectures et ses lecteurs
G. Calboli, Quintilien et les déclamateurs, p. 11
P. Chiron, L'héritage grec de Quintilien: le cas de l'exorde (IO, IV, 1), p. 29
M. S. Celentano, L'oratore impara a scrivere. Principi di scrittura professionale nell'Institutio oratoria di Quintiliano, p. 47
G. Moretti, Quintiliano e il 'visibile parlare': strumenti visuali per l'oratoria latina, p. 67
C. Lévy, Note sur un aspect de Quintilien lecteur de Cicéron: sceptiques et stoïciens dans l'Institution oratoire, p. 109
I.G. Mastrorosa, La pratica dell'oratoria giudiziaria nell'alto impero: Quintiliano e Plinio il Giovane, p. 125

Deuxième partie
Quintilien du Moyen-Âge à la Renaissance
W. Verbaal, Teste Quintiliano. Jean de Salisbury et Quintilien: un exemple de la crise des autorités au XIIe siècle, p. 155
F. Rouillé, Sur trois vers de l'Anticlaudianus d'Alain de Lille mentionnant Quintilien, p. 171
L. Hermand-Schebat, Pétrarque et Quintilien, p. 191
J. Nassichuk, Quintilien dans les traités pédagogiques du Quattrocento, p. 207
M. Regoliosi, Valla e Quintiliano, p. 233
M. van der Poel, Observations sur la déclamation chez Quintilien et chez Erasme, p. 279
J. Céard, Josse Bade, éditeur de Quintilien à la Rénaissance, p. 291
P. Galand, Quelques aspects de l'influence de Quintilien sur les premières poétiques latines de la Renaissance (Fonzio, Vadian, Vida), p. 303
V. Leroux, Quintilianus censor in litteris acerrimus: posterité des jugements de Quintilien sur les poètes antiques dans les poétiques latines de la Renaissance (1486-1561), p. 351
J. Lecointe, La nouvelle Babylone. Quintilien et le statut de l'èthos dans la rhétorique ramiste, p. 383

Troisième partie
Quintilien à l'Âge Classique
G. Baffetti, Quintiliano e i gesuiti, p. 399
E. Bury, Quintilien et le discours critique classique: Vaugelas, Guez de Balzac, Bouhours, p. 413
S. Conte, Presence de Quintilien dans les rhétoriques sacrées post-tridentines: le vir bonus, p. 433
C. Gutbub, Invention et imitation chez Quintilien: d'une invention à l'autre en passant par Pierre de Deimier, p. 471
A. Roose, Les bottines de François de la Mothe le Vayer, p. 501
F. Hallyn, Quintilien et le débat sur la peinture à l'âge classique: l'expression des passions, p. 515
F. Goyet, Les figures de pensée comme grands blocs, unités minimales pour construire un discours, p. 527
V. Kapp, Le rôle de Quintilien dans les débats sur la clarté, p. 559

Notes:

1.   Avant-propos p. 8.
2.   The contributions with a general perspective are few. See the two important issues of Rhetorica 13, 2-3, 1995, about TheInstitutio oratoriaafter 1900 Years, 103-358 (with contributions also, for instance, about Goethe and Quintilian in Czech thought) and the proceedings of Tomas Albaladejo, Emilio del Río, José Antonio Caballero (eds.) Quintiliano: historia y actualidad de la retórica. Actas del Congreso internacional, Calahorra: Ayuntamiento de Calahorra, 1998.
3.   See Études sur Quintilien, Paris 1936 reprint Amsterdam 1967.
4.   Read téchne for techné (p. 110), Aeneas for Aeneus (p. 208), nobilium for nobiliorum (p. 209) ; eloquentia for eloquintia (p. 276). At the page 209 the discovery of Quintilian's manuscript by Poggio is dated in 1416, at page 211 at 1417: about this matter see also Furio Murru, Poggio Bracciolini e la riscoperta dell'Institutio oratoria di Quintiliano (1416), Critica storica 20, 1983, 621-626, that is not quoted in bibliography; in the index of contents the article of Florent Rouillé is printed without « d'Alain de Lille ».
5.   To Celentano's paper add Lonni Bahmer, Schreiben in der Ausbildung des Redners. Die « Institutio oratoria » als Grundriss für den Schreibunterricht heute, Rhetorik 17, 1998, 35-53; to Céard's, Jorge Fernández López, J. Bade acerca de M. F. Quintiliano en 1498 y 1516, Latomus 62, 2003, 902-910; in Lecointe's article, Juan María Núñez González, La doctrina del « oratorius numerus » en Cicerón, Quintiliano y Pierre de la Ramée in Quintiliano: historia y actualidad de la retórica. Actas del Congreso internacional, 1447-1456.

2012.01.49

2012-01-29T20:34:00.001-05:00

Marie Verdoner, Narrated Reality: the Historia ecclesiastica of Eusebius of Caesarea. Early Christianity in the context of antiquity, 9. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2011. Pp. vi, 208. ISBN 9783631605882. €42.80; $66.95.

Reviewed by David J. DeVore, University of California (djdevore@berkeley.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

The oeuvre of Eusebius of Caesarea – bishop, book collector and editor, theologian, polemicist, chronicler, propagandist, and, to some in his lifetime, "heretic" – has not always been appreciated. Yet since the late 1990s his early works from before Constantine became sole Roman emperor in 324 have drawn a groundswell of scholarly of attention from historians, classicists and theologians. Eusebius' subtlety and comprehensiveness as a polemicist against non-Christian ethnic groups (Ulrich, Kofsky, A. Johnson, Schott, Morlet), his manipulation of previous written texts and innovative use of the technology of books (Carriker, Inowlocki, Grafton and Williams, Morlet), his skill in adapting Christian theology in dialogue with Platonist metaphysics and various theological critiques (Strutwolf, Kofsky, Johnson, Morlet, Schott, Zamagni), and even his vision of Christian society (Hollerich, Johnson, Morlet) have become the subjects of a number of recent volumes.¹ Yet this renaissance has covered Eusebius's various authorial themes and aims unevenly, devoting relatively little attention to Eusebian historiography, and particularly to his most-read (or, better, most-cited) work, the Ecclesiastical History.² The lag in attention to the History is understandable for at least two reasons. For one, the History's multifaceted intertextuality – between 40 and 50 percent of the text consists of direct quotations of varying correspondence to their Vorlagen – demands wide knowledge of both Eusebius and his sources and frustrates attempts to identify where sources' voices end and Eusebius' begins. For another, the History's complex and disputed compositional history has hindered scholars from mapping out the discursive contexts that it addresses.³

As fresh probing of the History is overdue, Marie Verdoner's new book, a translated revision of her 2007 Danish dissertation at the University of Aarhus, is a welcome study. Verdoner aims "to map the historical space implied in historia ecclesiastica" (1), by "regard[ing] text as a construction of meaning, drawing upon the surrounding cultural system, and thus becoming more than a by-word for the unique creation of the narrator- author" (2). Thereby Verdoner will explain "the cultural negotiations attending the turn into a post-Constantinian Christianity" (2): situating her reading within the new historicism, she dispenses explicitly with the older (to adapt a term from Herodotean and Thucydidean studies) "Eusebian questions" of compositional sequence and historical accuracy to focus instead on the History as an ideological document.

The book proceeds in five chapters. To establish the text's significance, Verdoner's introduction sketches the History's wide reception from late Roman to modern times (4-17). She then draws from poststructuralist theorists her study's guiding principle that historical narrative's combination of internal causal chains and coherence with perceived external realities serve to model power relationships for their audiences and retroject them into a plausible past (17-30).

Verdoner's second chapter sketches Eusebius's life and works briefly before discussing the composition, structure, and narrative techniques of the History. Marginalizing Eusebius the author to tackle the text's narratorial voice, Verdoner contrasts the History's annalistic and therefore discontinuous structure in books 1-7 (concerning events before Diocletian's persecutions) with the involved and passionate narration of recent persecutions in books 8-9, narration that (I concur) transforms reader into spectator. She also notes that the Eusebian narrator's famous use of quotations confirms the "external coherence" discussed in her introduction and edifies readers (65f.).

Chapter 3 moves on to the History's genre, which Verdoner introduces as the key to its authority. A discussion of "Hellenistic" and "Judeo-Christian history writing" (on which, see below) leads her to pronounce that the History "must be placed within the frames of the traditional Hellenistic-Roman history writing…regarding time,…subject, form and style" (84), though the text articulates apologetic arguments too.⁴ The strongest part of the book comes next (89-107), as Verdoner untangles Eusebius's carefully inflected self-descriptions as "I" or "we" (the latter sometimes including Christians from centuries before Eusebius, sometimes including Eusebius's readers ) and as an exceptionally book-smart savant. The narrator presents a narrative that is "out there" in texts and waiting for its teller, and its coalescence elevates the book that carries it into a sacred monument.⁵

The fourth chapter outlines how Eusebius constructs an ideal Christian community, unifying and arranging bishops, martyrs, and scholars across time, space, and rank within a Christian ethnos while systematically excluding "heretics," Judeans, and pagans (109-147).⁶ While Eusebius's stereotyped presentation of both insiders and outsiders creates a unified, pious Christian nation, Verdoner shows that certain groups and individuals threatened the stability of Eusebius's sharp hierarchies and divisions, such as "heresy's" status as an inversion of Christianity, the problematic border between Hebrews, Judeans, and Christians, and the narrator's praise of "heretical" and Judean scholars like Tatian, Philo and Josephus.

The fifth and final chapter situates Eusebius's imagined church vis-à-vis three contexts: space and time, the Roman imperial state, and the divine. The first two collapse into one as Verdoner shows that, "Chronologically, geographically, and politically, the Roman Empire appears as the borders of the church and as the entire world" (160). She also rightly reaffirms that for Eusebius historical agency lies ultimately with God, whose victory in a cosmic struggle with the devil is a foregone conclusion, but whose Providence, manifested in Christ's teaching, binds the church into continuity with God's people in the Hebrew Scriptures.

Verdoner's reading of the History as a unified ideological presentation is a suggestive experiment and an important corrective to studies that divide the text according to one or another compositional hypothesis or that emphasize Eusebius's sources to the exclusion of his authorial agenda. The book's most brilliant moments come when Verdoner probes the Eusebian narrator's voice, sequencing, rhythm, and intertextual devices, particularly in the second and third chapters.⁷ Verdoner's questions yield numerous provocative observations about Eusebius's narrative techniques that, while not all will agree with every point, should be foundational for understanding the History's success.

Alongside these suggestive readings, however, a tension develops between the book's aims and the path adopted to reach those aims: whereas Verdoner purports to explain the History's success in forming Christian collective memory and identity in the milieu in which Christianity gained power, her transtemporal orientation vis-à-vis what history does (chapter 1) marginalizes the particular habitus of the History's elite Roman audiences, running the danger of dehistoricizing the text (cf. her tributes to the New Historicism, 2, 21, 29). Neglect of the particular culture for which Eusebius wrote (as well as contemporary debates in which he participated) obscures Eusebius' contributions to "the larger renegotiation of Christianity's position within the Roman Empire" (187).

Rather than being grounded from the start in Eusebius's late Roman milieu, the book sketches Eusebius's literary culture only in its third chapter. But here Verdoner presupposes a distinction between "Hellenistic" and "Judeo- Christian" historiographies, even though she is at pains to delineate differences between these two traditions.⁸ Indeed, it is unclear how, in early fourth century Greek literary culture, an narrator-author's ethnicity conditioned readers' expectations about the blending of form, content, and rhetoric – in short, the genre – of a historiographical text. Educated hellenophones in Eusebius's day did not distinguish genres of historia simply by their respective authors' ethnicity: rather, any Greek historian had numerous subgenres from an 800-year tradition of historical writing available to emulate, so that Greek and non-Greek narrator-authors alike produced lengthy national histories, shorter war monographs, geographies and ethnographies, local histories, chronographies, and biographies, and combinations of several genres, each presuming different respective interests and education in audiences. And each genre (or combination of genres) implicated a text's narrator-author into a different relationship between subject matter, the narrator's voice, and readers (both implied and actual) – a nexus that represented a major concern for Eusebius (see esp. History 5.pref.3f.). A careful consideration of the History's genre(s) would bring into sharper relief the particular audiences targeted by Eusebius and help explain the History's resonance.

Nevertheless, Verdoner's discussion of Eusebius's narrative tactics and construct of Christianity will be fundamental in coming studies of the Ecclesiastical History. Her perceptive readings and fresh approach make this book a necessary acquisition for any scholar working on Eusebius and profitable for students of late Roman historical writing.

It must be noted that the book is marred by numerous grammatical errors, typos, colloquialisms, and awkward phrasings.¹⁰

Notes:

1.   See also the recent collections of A.-C. Jacobsen, and J. Ulrich (eds.) Three Greek Apologists. Origen, Eusebius, Athanasius (Frankfurt, 2007) and S. Inowlocki and C. Zamagni (eds.), Reconsidering Eusebius (Leiden, 2011), as well as the forthcoming A. Johnson and J. Schott (eds.), Eusebius and the Making of Late Antique Literary Culture (Washington DC, 2012). Credit for laying the historical foundation for recent Eusebian scholarship goes largely to T. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, MA, 1981).
2.   Indeed, Inowlocki and Zamagni excluded studies of the Ecclesiastical History from their recent volume (previous note; see their "Preface," pp. ixf.). Some of the best recent work on the History has treated circumscribed topics within the text, such as its quotational practice (E. Carotenuto, Tradizione e innovazione nella Historia Ecclesiastica di Eusebio di Cesarea (Bologna, 2001)), and portrayal of "heretics" (M. Willing, Eusebius von Cäsarea als Häresiograph (Berlin, 2008)). Recent assessments of the History include D. Mendels, The Media Revolution of Early Christianity (Grand Rapids, 1999), T. Morgan, "Eusebius of Caesarea and Christian Historiography," Athenaeum 93 (2005), Morlet, "Écrire l'Histoire selon Eusèbe de Césarée," L'Information Litteraire 57 (2005), and Ulrich, "Eusebius als Kirchengeschichtsschreiber," in E.-M. Becker (ed.), Die antike Historiographie und die Anfänge der christlichen Geschichtsschreibung (Berlin, 2005). A commentary on the History is also in the works: for a prospectus, see L. Perrone, "Eusèbe de Césarée face à l'essor de la littérature chrétienne," Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum 11 (2007).
3.   The History was published in at least three editions between Constantine's and Licinius' securing joint rule in 313 and Constantine's deposing Licinius in 325, as R. Burgess has shown in "The Dates and Editions of Eusebius' Chronici Canones and Historia Ecclesiastica," Journal of Theological Studies 48 (1997) (but cf. Barnes, "Eusebius of Caesarea," Expository Times 120 (2009), 6f.).
4.   On non-Greeks writing "apologetic histories" in Greek in the Hellenistic and early Roman period, see G. Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition: Josephos, Luke-Acts, and Apologetic Historiography (Leiden, 1991), an important study of which Verdoner appears unaware.
5.   Verdoner already maps the History's apologetic strategies and targets in "Transgeneric Crosses. Apologetics in the Church History of Eusebius," in Jacobsen and Ulrich (eds.), Three Greek Apologists (2007); she also discusses the Eusebian narrator's relationship with his audience trenchantly in "Überlegungen zum Adressaten von Eusebs Historia ecclesiastica," Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum 14 (2010).
6.   On Christianity as a nation in Eusebius's writings, see esp. A. Johnson, Ethnicity and Argument in Eusebius' Praeparatio Evangelica (2006).
7.   It may cause some confusion that Verdoner nowhere introduces readers to the technical narratological terms that she employs throughout the monograph, except where at 89 n. 121 she explains why she uses "narrator" instead of "Eusebius": so confusion may result around such technical terms as "focalize," "focalizer" and "focalization" (passim), or "internal analepses" and "prolepses" (150). It is recommended that readers unfamiliar with narratology consult an introductory guide to the field, such as M. Bal, Narratology (Toronto, 2009).
8.   Verdoner points to (1) the agency of God and the teleology of his plan and (2) the Judean and Christian historians' direct quotation of texts. However, attributions of agency alone constitute no sound basis for a generic distinction, and Verdoner herself concedes in a footnote that Greek and Roman historians quoted texts too, and in ways similar to Judean and Christian historians (71 n. 17).
9.   On genre in ancient historiography, see the important essay of J. Marincola, "Genre, Convention, and Innovation in Greco-Roman Historiography," in C. Kraus (ed.), The Limits of Historiography (Leiden, 1999). Verdoner's discussion of the History's authority, which she links to its genre, would have benefited from consultation of Marincola's classic Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography (Cambridge, 1997).
10.   A few examples: the repeated use of "quote" as a noun; "the taxing style…resulting in the text getting an alluding character" (52); "although the lack of descriptions [sic] may be typical for the work as a whole, it is not consequent" (53); "…catching the room of communication with the reader…" (89 n. 121); "…the non-episcopal learned receiving the most attention is Origen." (113); "there is no consistent discern between schismatics and heretics" (145).

2012.01.48

2012-01-28T21:47:00.001-05:00

Claudia Bolgia, Rosamond McKitterick, John Osborne (ed.), Rome across Time and Space: Cultural Transmission and the Exchange of Ideas, c. 500-1400. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Pp. xx, 351. ISBN 9780521192170. $99.00.

Reviewed by Réka Forrai, Central European University (rekaforrai@yahoo.com)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Trying to map nine hundred years from the life of a city like Rome is a gigantic enterprise. However, this is the ambition of this compact little book of less than 400 pages. It discusses cultural transmission and the exchange of ideas centered on medieval Rome: Rome, the idea, and Rome, the place. With its clearly defined questions, and its innovative papers it proves to be an extremely useful compass that will help you navigate whether you are going towards or coming from Rome.

Framed by a list of illustrations (all black and white), of tables and maps at the beginning, and a general and a manuscript index at the end, the volume is divided in six subsections: Roman texts and Roman history; The translation of the Roman liturgy north of the Alps; Architectural inspiration and sculptural models within and without Rome; Cultural exchanges; Patrons, artists, and ideas on the move; Roman and papal jurisdictions. These chapter headings provide the focal points around which the contributors organize their ideas. The volume is not exhaustive of the theme, and some centuries are more present than others: the early middle ages dominate. Within the narrow foci of the different sections, however, the papers are engaging, informative and enter in a lively dialogue with each other.

The justification for these divisions is provided in the introduction of Claudia Bolgia. Her prefatory essay is a very strong and clear formulation of the organizing ideas, placing the book within current scholarly trends, showing how this collection is embedded in contemporary methodological debates or ongoing research projects. The essays collected here are derived from papers presented at a Cambridge conference in 2008. The main purpose was to explore Rome as place, horizontally, in space and as an idea, vertically, in time. Cultural transmission and exchange, the key concepts from the title of the book, serve as umbrella terms for diverse phenomena of adaptation, transformation, reinterpretation, and translation. The editors' intention was to work with these methodological concepts in a frame which is pregnant with different treatments of the idea of Rome. The book is thus the result of an interdisciplinary enterprise, where objects, ideas, and their human agents were all intended to be taken into account. However, the result displays a slight preference for the physical over the ideal: art historical studies make up the bulk of the volume. The focus continuously shifts not only between disciplines and centuries, but also from within Rome to outside, giving the reader a strong impression about how heavy the two-way traffic was on all those roads leading to Rome.

I Roman texts and Roman history

Rosamond McKitterick's "Roman texts and Roman history in the early Middle Ages" argues for the Liber Pontificalis as "alternative history." By looking at possible sources, she concludes that this serial biography follows Roman emperors' lives rather than martyrologies, in an attempt to change Rome's history from pagan into Christian by creating a competitive Christian historiographical tradition.

"Monuments and histories: ideas and images of Antiquity in some descriptions of Rome " by Maurizio Campanelli analyses of series of contemporary descriptions of Rome, and observing how Rome as a sacred, eternal place gradually turns into Rome as history book. The sources discussed are mainly the Mirabilia urbis Romae (12th century), Narracio de mirabilibus urbis Romae by Master Gregory (13th century), Giovanni Cavallini's Polistoria (14th century), concluding with the humanists Pier Paolo Vergerio, Poggio Bracciolini and Flavio Biondo.

Michael D. Reeve's "Rome, reservoir of ancient texts? " is a bibliographical survey, an up to date review of literature about the question of ancient Latin literature preserved in medieval Rome. The question mark at the end of the title refers to the one major setback of all such investigations: the lack of sources about the early history of Roman libraries.

II The translation of the 'Roman' liturgy north of the Alps

Éamonn ó Carragáin's "The periphery rethinks the centre: inculturation, 'Roman' liturgy and the Ruthwell Cross" analyses a famous early medieval Anglo-Saxon artefact, the Ruthwell Cross. This methodologically very creative piece of writing, starting from the difficulty of accounting for the uniqueness of certain cultural phenomena, argues against a "disintegrative approach" that only emphasizes Roman references, without noticing the innovative combination of the motifs into a "local theology". "The liturgy of the 'Roman' Office in England from the Conversion to the Conquest" by Jesse D. Billet is similar to the previous paper in that the author here argues for a "flexible idea of Romanness", which the Anglo-Saxons developed, a certain freedom in using the Roman liturgy, where the main idea was to be in harmony with the universal catholic church, while at the same time being open to eclecticism. This attitude turned to its reverse after the Conquest, when liturgical practice lost it's flexibility in an attempt to preserve its uniqueness, perceived as romanitas, as a way of opposing Carolingian customs.

"The Romanization of the Frankish liturgy: ideal, reality, and the rhetoric of reform" by Yitzhak Hen joins the previous liturgy studies setting out to further nuance pieces of mainstream received wisdom. In this case, the reality of the Romanness of the Frankish liturgy is under scrutiny. The author presents liturgy as a tool for political ideology and religious identity. These concepts, along with the use of Rome as a symbol of authority would explain the coexistence of a propaganda of uniform Romanization with a reality that was quite the contrary.

III Architectural inspiration and sculptural models within and without Rome

Judson J. Emeric in his "Building more romano in Francia during the third quarter of the eighth century: the abbey church of Saint-Denis and its model" presents Saint Denis also as both place and idea, like Rome. This makes its relation to Rome even more crucial. Here again we find a revision of an old line of inquiry, namely, what exactly was abbot Fulrad copying, when he modeled Saint Denis upon the basilica of Saint Peter? The author argues that Fulrad had in mind not the imperial Constantinian basilica, but the basilica of the popes, trying to relate to contemporary, rather than past architectural and political entities.

Sible de Blaauw in her "Reception and renovation of Early Christian churches in Rome, c. 1050–1300" discusses two types of strategies of renovation that are very different in method but similar in aim: the conservative (demonstrated in the cases of Saint Peter's and San Paolo fuori le mura) and the interventionist (exemplified by San Lorenzo fuori le mura and the Basilica of St. John Lateran). The first wants to renovate while keeping everything unaltered, conserving thus Early Christianity in its monuments; the other alters edifices, but based on Early Christian models, which will have the effect of making them look older than they are. Both strategies idealize early Christianity and its architecture.

John Mitchell's "Giudizio sul Mille: Rome, Montecassino, S. Vincenzo al Volturno, and the beginnings of the Romanesque" is a convincing attack on another piece of received wisdom. Mitchell, instead of attaching the myth of the beginning to a single name, Montecassino, proceeds to contextualize the phenomenon and to show how elements of a revival of Classical motives were occurring at different places in Italy at the same time: in Rome, at S. Vincenzo al Volturno, and only later at Montecassino.

"The discourse of columns" by Dale Kinney has as its subject columns (the cylindrical monolithic Roman type), or rather, the medieval discourse about them, both secular and exegetical, showing how they can be invoked as integral parts of a rhetoric of romanitas.

IV Cultural exchanges

The title of Jane Hawkes' "Design and decoration: re-visualizing Rome in Anglo-Saxon sculpture" again implies a cultural transmission in which the recipient territory is fertile, and the appropriation transformative. She suggests new paths for studying the Roman and Anglo-Saxon sculptural interconnections, focusing on the neglected non- figurative elements.

John Osborne's "Rome and Constantinople in the ninth century" depicts ninth-century Rome as a hub, the connecting point between East and West, especially from 843, the end of iconoclasm, when renewed connections between the emperor, patriarch and pope result in a revival of cultural communication. William R. Day, Jr's "Antiquity, Rome, and Florence: coinage and transmissions across time and space" is the only numismatic paper in the collection, but a very exhaustive one indeed. We are presented with the complex relationship between Roman and Florentine coinage and minting over the centuries: how they mutually inspire each other, and how they draw both on Antiquity, and the idea of romanitas.

V Patrons, artists, and ideas on the move

Julian Gardner's "French patrons abroad and at home: 1260–1300" provides us with a short series of portraits of French cardinals (Guillaume de Bray, Ancher Pantaléon, Guillaume Durand, Pierre de Montbrun, Hugues Aycelin), and the tomb sculpture of their burial sites in Italy and in France.

Paul Binski's "Art-historical reflections on the fall of the Colonna, 1297" discusses how, why and when the new Italian painting style of the Duecento reaches France. He argues for a quite early date (around1297) and emphasizes the political and religious driving forces behind this cultural translation.

Louise Bourdua's "Exports to Padua Trecento style: Altichiero's Roman legacy" discusses the Roman borrowings of a fourteenth-century Veronese artist, Altichiero. The author hypothesizes that Altichiero was exposed to classical Roman models personally, when travelling to Rome. The paper concludes with reflections on the possible reactions of Altichiero's contemporary audience to the classical allusions.

VI Roman and papal jurisdictions

Brenda Bolton's "A new Rome in a small place? Imitation and re-creation in the Patrimony of St Peter" is a vivid presentation of Viterbo's rise as a papal residence at the time of Innocent III, as a sort of pre-Avignon, and the use of the idea of Rome in the process. To move out of such a symbolic place, the papacy had to disentangle the idea of the papacy and the idea of Rome, but at the same time they were shaping Viterbo as a "new Rome". George Dameron's "Appealing to Rome (and Avignon) before the Black Death: ecclesiastical disputes and church patronage in medieval Tuscany" addresses the image of Rome from the point of view of canon law. He describes twelfth- to fourteenth-century ecclesiastical disputes where Tuscan cases end up in front of Rome or Avignon, and strategies of the locals to manipulate the possibilities of such appeals to the papal authority.

What I find extremely valuable in this book is that it diversifies and refreshes our understanding of the idea(s) of Rome prevailing in the Middle Ages. It does this by exemplifying with strong case studies a clear theoretical and methodological frame: cultural transmission and exchange of ideas are viewed in terms of appropriation and imitation rather than influence or impact. When treating Rome's relationship with contemporary cultural and political entities the book emphasizes the selectiveness with which ideas of Rome were treated, and the hybrid nature of the attempts at imitation. Roman institutions' own approach to their past traditions is also shown to have betrayed a great deal of elasticity and creativity. This collection thus achieves what conference proceedings often aim at, but rarely achieve: to produce a volume worthwhile reading both for its individual papers and for the overarching concept.

2012.01.47

2012-01-28T21:34:00.001-05:00

Annunziata Rositani (ed.), Harvest Texts in the British Museum. Rivista degli studi orientali, nuova serie. Supplemento, no 1, vol. 82. Pisa; Roma: Fabrizio Serra editore, 2011. Pp. 209 p., CD-ROM. ISBN 9788862273282. €220.00 (pb).

Reviewed by L. R. Siddall, Shore School (luis.siddall@gmail.com)

Version at BMCR home site

Annunziata Rositani has produced an excellent edition of 122 cuneiform documents from northern Babylonia (Sippar and Tell ed-Dēr), now kept in the British Museum. The texts are concerned with harvesting and date to the Old Babylonian Period from the reign of Hammurabi (1792-1750 BCE) to the reign of Samsu-ditana (1625-1595 BCE). The range of texts comprises tablets, bullae and parallel pipe tags, which deal with labour contracts, lists of numbers and personal names, lists of quantities of silver and barley, contracts for the loan of specific harvesters, records of debt and one text that records the accumulated interest for the harvest. All texts have been competently edited and well presented in digital format in the accompanying CD ROM. The high quality editions combined with Rositani's discussion of the texts make this volume a solid contribution to the study of Old Babylonian agricultural organization.

There are a number of features of the book that make it a useful tool for further research on harvesting in Mesopotamia. The texts edited here have been arranged chronologically within the different typologies to clarify the prospographical connections between the witnesses, creditors and debtors named in the texts. Another excellent feature of this work is that Rositani has incorporated all known harvest texts in her analyses and summary tables and charts. In addition to the tables and charts, Rositani provides a catalogue, indices and concordances with museum numbers and collections, all of which provide the reader with a good coverage of Old Babylonian documents which come under the category "harvest texts."

The book opens with an extensive introduction (pp. 11-43), which provides an overview of the typologies of the texts, summary of the content and past studies of harvest texts, analyses of the different forms of texts and the meaning of key phrases, and the changes and continuities present in this corpus of texts. While Rositani is conscious of the gaps in the evidence, some significant observations and proposals about the harvest texts emerge. Of these, there are three discussions that are particularly interesting for understanding the terms used in the texts, and ultimately how we should interpret the harvest texts.

The first is a difficult point regarding the relationship between the amount of silver or barley transacted and the number of harvesters and people involved in the loan contracts (pp. 15-22). Since the average amount recorded (½ shekel of silver) in the texts is far too low for paying a team of harvesters, Rositani argues that the assignment of silver (or barley) at the beginning of the text is a retainer for the task of hiring harvesters, not a payment for the harvesters. In support of this proposal, Rositani suggests that the phrase šu ba.an.ti does not indicate that the goods were "borrowed", as often translated, to be repaid by the labour of the harvesters, rather it is "received" (which is closer to the standard meaning "to take"). Rositani argues that the confusion in modern scholarship has arisen out of the genre of the text: she points out that the scribes have used the format of a loan document to write a labour contract and observes that these texts do not contain clauses typical of loan contracts such as interest rate clauses.

Second, Rositani argues that the punishment clause ūl illak(ū)ma kīma simdat šarrim ("should he/they not complete the work (he/they will be punished) according to the decree of the king") is a fine, rather than a decree to fulfill the obligations stipulated in the text (pp. 22-23). Rositani draws on a few related texts to support this theory, but there is little in these cited texts to confirm this plausible idea.

Finally, Rositani reconsiders the meaning of the verb alāku in the conditional clauses of the labor contracts (pp. 23-28). The standard meaning of the verb is "to go," but idiomatically it can mean "to perform" a task, which is the usual way this verb has been translated. Rositani convincingly argues that the harvesters are not the subject of the verb, but the beneficiary of the silver/barley transaction. For Rositani, the beneficiary of the transaction is a labor contractor who hired harvesters for a conveyor who was responsible for the fields. Rositani goes on to argue that the verb alāku conveys the sense that the contractor was obliged to bring the harvesters to the field, which is closer to the standard meaning of the verb rather than the idiomatic expression. Interestingly, Rositani does not use this interpretation of alāku in the translations in chapter 1.

Rositani has edited the harvest texts by presenting transliterations and translations with commentaries on the texts over two chapters. Chapter one (pp. 67-162) contains the loan contracts and lists, and chapter two (pp. 163-193) contains the dockets and receipts. Each cuneiform document has been accurately edited and the cross-referencing between the texts is consistent throughout the book. In the reviewer's opinion, Rositani's method of presenting text editions is the best way of doing so. Each tablet has been expertly photographed and is entirely readable. Digital photography is at such an advanced stage that some scholars now favour digital images of cuneiform texts over hand copies in order to minimize the amount of interpretation and present as close a record of the artifact as possible. Interestingly, Rositani does not ascribe this practice to a particular philosophical or technical view on the accuracy of hand copies, but states that technical drawings of the tablets were not included because the content is so formulaic that copies were not required (p. 11, n. 1).

Rositani closes the book with useful indices of the texts divided by divine names, personal names, titles and occupations, and toponyms. The indices are followed by hand copies of broken and illegible signs from the texts.

The reviewer has one minor quibble with the CD ROM. The tablets are arranged according to their museum numbers rather than the order in which they appear in the book. It would have been easier to cross-check Rositani's edition with the photographs if they had appeared in the same order.

In sum, Rositani has produced a very good volume of harvest texts, which is a solid contribution to the study of Old Babylonian agriculture and economics. While there may be debate over some of Rositani's interpretations of the harvest texts, Assyriologists and scholars of ancient economics will profit from engaging with the discussions presented in this book.

2012.01.46

2012-01-28T21:26:00.001-05:00

Concetta Luna, Alain-Philippe Segonds (ed.), Proclus, Commentaire sur le Parménide de Platon. Tome II, livre II. Collection des universités de France. Série grecque, 476. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2010. Pp. cxliv, 350. ISBN 9782251005607. €57.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Benedikt Strobel, Universität Trier (strobel@uni-trier.de)

Version at BMCR home site

Vor knapp mehr als vier Jahren erschien Buch II von Proklos' Parmenides-Kommentar erstmals in einer kritischen Edition, enthalten im ersten Band¹ der von Carlos Steel u.a. (= edd. O.) in der Reihe Oxford Classical Texts von 2007 bis 2009 publizierten dreibändigen Gesamt-Edition des Parmenides-Kommentars (= ed. O.). Mit dem hier anzuzeigenden zweiten Band der von Concetta Luna und Alain-Philippe Segonds (†) (= edd. P.) herausgegebenen Budé-Ausgabe des Parmenides-Kommentars (= ed. P.) liegt nun eine weitere kritische Edition von Buch II vor. Bedingt durch das andere Format der Budé-Reihe, enthält der Band auch eine (französische) Übersetzung sowie ausführliche „Notes complémentaires".

In diesen braut sich auf vielen Seiten² als dunkles Gewölk zusammen, was mittlerweile, auf mehr als 250 Seiten des jüngst erschienenen dritten Bands der ed. P.,³ als heftiges Gewitter über die edd. O. hereingebrochen ist: eine Generalabrechnung mit der editorischen Praxis der edd. O. Dieser als „Introduction au livre III" betitelte Verriß in Buchformat ist nicht Gegenstand der vorliegenden Besprechung; dennoch muß hier auf ihn hingewiesen werden, da mit ihm diejenige Strategie ihren Höhepunkt erreicht hat, die ihren Schatten bereits auf die „Notes complémentaires" des zweiten Bands der ed. P. wirft: die Strategie, selbst die kleineren Fehler der früheren Editoren (v.a. der edd. O.) genüßlich auszuwalzen (vgl. z.B. 217 der „Notes complémentaires": „Doit-on croire que les edd. Oxon. n'ont pas su faire la distinction entre un participe présent actif et un participe aoriste passif ?"⁴), um die philologischen Fähigkeiten der edd. O. in ein ungünstiges Licht zu rücken.⁵

Fehler der Vorgängereditionen sollten in einer neuen Edition korrigiert und, wo der Sache nach nötig, auch zur Sprache gebracht werden; aber die Selbstgewißheit, mit der die edd. P. schon im zweiten Band mit der ed. O. ins Gericht gehen, befremdet angesichts der erheblichen Schwierigkeiten, die die Konstitution des Texts des Parmenides-Kommentars aufwirft und die unausbleiblich zur Folge haben, daß editorische Entscheidungen an verschiedenen Stellen als zweifelhaft oder jedenfalls nicht alternativlos erscheinen.⁶ Wie brüchig in der Tat das Fundament ist, auf dem die ostentative Selbstgewißheit der edd. P. ruht, möchte ich an einigen Beispielen aus Buch II illustrieren, die den Aspekt der Textkonstitution betreffen (Seiten- und Zeilenzahlen beziehen sich für Bücher I-III auf die ed. P., für die übrigen Bücher auf die zweite Edition von Cousin; den edd. P. folgend, bezeichne ich mit „Σ" den Hyparchetyp der griechischen Textzeugen, mit „g" die lateinische Übersetzung Wilhelms von Moerbeke).

724,19 ὑπενεχθέν ed. P. : ἀπενεχθέν Σ: feratur g] Die edd. P. rechtfertigen ihre Konjektur mit der Feststellung, daß Proklos an anderen Stellen ὑποφέρομαι in dem hier erforderlichen Sinne gebrauche (317). Die Feststellung ist richtig – was die edd. P. aber nicht notieren: auch ἀποφέρομαι ist in demselben Sinn für Proklos an zwei Stellen außerhalb des Parmenides-Kommentars belegt (siehe Theol. Plat. II 7, 50,1-2: εἰς πλῆθος καὶ διαίρεσιν ἀποφέρεται und In Alc. 117,5-6: εἰς ἀοριστίαν ἀποφέρεται). Dies ist ein hinreichender Grund, um zu überlegen, ob nicht auch ἀποφέρομαι im hier erforderlichen Sinne Proklos' usus scribendi entspricht.

724,23-25 οὕτω γὰρ ὁ ἐκείνων [sc. τῶν πολλῶν] λόγος εὐεξέλεγκτος, ἐπεί, εἴγε τὰ πολλὰ τιθοῖτο [τιθοῖτο ed. P. : τίθοιντο Σ: ponantur g] μετὰ τοῦ ἑνός, οὔπω διὰ τοῦτο [τοῦτο ed. P. ex g (hoc) : ταῦτα Σ] ἐλέγχοιτο ἄν] τιθοῖτο wird damit gerechtfertigt, daß das Subjekt nicht οἱ πολλοί, sondern ὁ Ζήνων sei (119). Diese Annahme ist nicht plausibel, da der Sprung von ὁ ἐκείνων λόγος – als (explizites) Subjekt zu εὐεξέλεγκτος – zu ὁ Ζήνων – als (implizites) Subjekt zu τιθοῖτο – und wieder zurück zu ὁ ἐκείνων λόγος – als (implizites) Subjekt zu ἐλέγχοιτο – nur dazu geeignet wäre, Konfusion zu stiften (der Subjektswechsel im folgenden Satz ist hingegen wohlverständlich). Als Einwand gegen οἱ πολλοί als Subjekt wird vorgebracht: „Cela n'a évidemment pas de sens de dire « si les πολλοί avaient posé [τιθοῖντο] les plusieurs avec l'un », car, si tel était le cas, Zénon n'aurait jamais songé à les réfuter, pour la simple raison que c'était là sa propre thèse" (119). Der Einwand überzeugt nicht: denn Proklos erläutert hier mit einer kontrafaktischen Überlegung, warum der λόγος der Vielen zum Gegenstand der zenonischen Widerlegung wird: Es ist noch nicht die Annahme der vielen Dinge (vgl. οὔπω διὰ ταῦτα [sc. τὰ πολλά]), die ihn widerlegbar macht, sondern die Annahme, daß die vielen Dinge nicht am Einen teilhaben: „Auf diese Weise nämlich [d.h. aufgrund der Annahme, daß die vielen Dinge nicht am Einen teilhaben] ist ihr λόγος [d.h. der λόγος der Vielen] leicht widerlegbar, denn wenn sie [sc. die Vielen] die vielen Dinge zusammen mit dem Einen ansetzen würden, würde ihr λόγος noch nicht dieser [vielen Dinge] wegen [d.h. bloß aufgrund der Annahme der vielen Dinge] widerlegt werden können". (Eine analoge Interpretation ist natürlich auch mit τιθοῖτο möglich, wenn ὁ ἐκείνων λόγος als Subjekt angenommen wird.)

724,27 κατὰ <τὴν> [add. ed. P.] δόξαν τὴν ἐκείνων] Vgl. [Pl.] Epin. 984b5: κατὰ δόξαν τὴν ἐπιεικῆ und Arist. SE 180b24: κατὰ δόξαν τὴν αὑτοῦ.

725,30-31 ὡς δὲ μη<δὲν κοινὸν ὅλως> ἔχοντα ἀνόμοια ed. P., ὅλως iam add. ed. O. ex g (totaliter)] Im folgenden (725,33: οὐδὲν γὰρ ἔχει ταύτῃ κοινόν, siehe folgende Anmerkung) wird die These, daß die πολλά, verstanden als ἑνὸς ἀμέτοχα, ἀνόμοια seien, damit begründet, daß sie nichts Gemeinsames haben. Diese Begründung wäre überflüssig, wenn Proklos schon in 725,30-31 gesagt hätte: ὡς δὲ μη<δὲν κοινὸν ὅλως> ἔχοντα ἀνόμοια [sc. ἔσται τὰ πολλά]. Zu schreiben ist vielmehr, teils aus g: ὡς δὲ μη<δ' ὅλως> ἓν ὄντα [ἓν ὄντα für ἔχοντα] ἀνόμοια [sc. ἔσται τὰ πολλά]. Denn genau auf das μηδ' ὅλως ἓν εἶναι wird im folgenden (725,31-32) mit αὐτὸ τοῦτο [...] <τὸ τοῦ ἑνὸς μὴ μετέχειν> [ex g suppl. ed. O. praeter τὸ, quod add. ed. P.] Bezug genommen. Vgl. zu ἓν ὄντα auch 725,18-19: τὰ πολλὰ [...] ἕν ἐστι. Der Gebrauch von μηδ' ὅλως (bzw. μηδὲ ὅλως) ist typisch proklisch (21 Belege; keiner für μὴ ὅλως). Ob in Wilhelms Vorlage μὴ ὅλως oder μηδ' ὅλως stand, muß offenbleiben: wenngleich er μηδ' ὅλως in der Tat üblicherweise mit neque totaliter übersetzt (vgl. 128), gibt es auch Belege für die Entsprechung μηδ' ὅλως ~ non totaliter (vgl. Dub. 27,8 und Simp. In Cael. 57,24-25).

725,33-34 μηδὲν γὰρ ἔχει οὕτω κοινόν· τὸ γὰρ μὴ ἓν κοινόν ἐστι add. ed. P., partim ex g (nichil enim habent sic commune: quod enim commune est)] Die edd. P. tadeln die edd. O. für die Wahl von οὐδὲν statt μηδὲν mit dem Argument, daß Proklos im folgenden (725,35 und 37) τὸ μηδὲν ἔχειν κοινόν schreibe (129). Dieses Argument läßt die nötige „connaissance de la langue grecque"⁷ vermissen: In 725,35 und 37 steht μηδὲν, weil dies die mit Artikel versehene Infinitivkonstruktion fordert (vgl. Kühner/Gerth II, 197); an der vorliegenden Stelle hingegen ist οὐδὲν korrekt (an den beiden Stellen bei Proklos, an denen μηδὲν zu Beginn eines γὰρ-Satzes überliefert ist, ist es in eine Infinitivkonstruktion eingebettet; sonst findet sich durchweg οὐδὲν γὰρ). Fragwürdig ist weiter die Deutung von sic als Wiedergabe von οὕτω; gemeint ist hier nicht „auf diese Weise", sondern „in dieser Hinsicht". Der Ausdruck dafür ist ταύτῃ (das von Wilhelm häufig mit sic übersetzt wird). Das τὸ γὰρ μὴ ἓν κοινόν ἐστι schließlich eignet sich nicht zur Begründung von οὐδὲν γὰρ ἔχει ταύτῃ κοινόν, sondern steht dazu im Widerspruch (wenn das μὴ ἕν den πολλά gemeinsam ist, haben sie doch etwas Gemeinsames). Proklos' Argumentation fordert vielmehr τὸ γὰρ κοινὸν ἕν ἐστι (aus g mit Ausnahme von ἕν): Die Aussage, daß das Gemeinsame ἕν ist, soll im Umkehrschluß rechtfertigen, daß die vielen Dinge, die nicht am ἕν teilhaben, nichts Gemeinsames haben.

732,8 ἐπιτελῇ τοὺς λόγους ed. P. ex g (consummet sermones) : ἐπὶ τε^λ (τέλους W) τῶν λόγων Σ] Die gewaltsame Änderung des überlieferten τῶν λόγων in τοὺς λόγους stimmt mißtrauisch, und dieser Verdacht bestätigt sich, wenn man beachtet, daß Proklos ἐπιτελέω nicht im hier erforderlichen Sinne von „beenden", sondern im Sinne von „zur Ausführung bringen" verwendet. Korrekt ist vielmehr das von Cousin und den edd. O. gedruckte ἐπὶ τέλει τῶν λόγων. Das folgende καὶ ist nicht konnektiv, sondern adverbial („auch"). Wilhelms Übersetzung gründet vermutlich in einer Verderbnis seiner Vorlage.

733,5 εἰ <δὲ> [add. ed. P.] τοῦτο] Die Einfügung von δὲ soll ein Asyndeton vermeiden; aber das Asyndeton bei εἰ τοῦτο ist bei Proklos üblich (vgl. In Prm. 821,17; 867,15-16; 1113,18).

733,15-16 καὶ πρὸς ἄλληλα *** [lacunam stat. ed. P.] μέντοι] Die Annahme der Lücke ist überflüssig; Proklos verwendet die Iunktur καὶ ... μέντοι öfter (vgl. z.B. In R. 2,188,1-2; In. Ti. 1,253,9; In Ti. 1,177,23). μέντοι dient der Betonung von πρὸς ἄλληλα im Kontrast zu πρὸς αὐτόν (733,14-15).

745,40-746,6 δεῖ δὲ μεμνῆσθαι κἀκείνου [κἀκείνου ed. P. : κἀκείνων Σ: et illorum g], ὅτι πᾶσαι τῶν ὁπωσοῦν εἶναι λεγομένων αἱ μονάδες τὰ μὲν παράγουσιν ὡς ἀπὸ ὁλικῶν ἑαυτῶν καθ' ὑπόβασιν μερικώτερα, τῆς ἰδιότητος τῆς αὐτῆς <μὲν> [μὲν add. ed. P.] μενούσης, μερικωτέρας δὲ μόνον γιγνομένης, τὰ δὲ κατ' οὐσίας ἐξαλλαγὴν ὡς ἀπὸ παραδειγμάτων <ἑαυτῶν> [add. ed. P.] εἰκόνας [εἰκόνας ed. P. : εἰκόνων Σ: imaginum g] <ὡς> [add. ed. P.] γίγνεσθαι προόδους] Fünf Änderungen in einem einzigen Satz, von denen vier falsch sind. Vgl. zum überlieferten κἀκείνων ὅτι die von Proklos häufig verwendete Iunktur κἀκεῖνα [...] ὅτι: In R. 1,144,21; In Prm. 938,38; 1025,39; in Ti. 2,162,4 (etc.). Für die drei letzten Änderungen gilt: ἑνὸς ἀτόπου δοθέντος τὰ ἄλλα συμβαίνει. Da sie annehmen, daß ὡς ἀπὸ παραδειγμάτων genau parallel zu ὡς ἀπὸ ὁλικῶν ἑαυτῶν konstruiert werden müsse (vgl. 196), verkennen die edd. P. die wirkliche Funktion des ὡς vor ἀπὸ παραδειγμάτων, welches einen Konsekutivsatz (ὡς ἀπὸ παραδειγμάτων εἰκόνων γίγνεσθαι προόδους) einführt. Syntaktisch ergibt sich daraus kein exakter Parallelismus, aber Struktur und Sinn des Satzes bleiben völlig verständlich.

747,28-29 τὸ μὲν μᾶλλον <μεταλαμβάνον ὁμοιοῦται καὶ ἀνομοιοῦται μᾶλλον> [add. ed. P.], τὸ δὲ ἧττον δῆλον ὡς ἧττον] Der Lösungsansatz ist gut, aber die Lösung selbst befriedigt nicht, denn sie generiert ein an dieser Stelle nicht akzeptables Asyndeton. Es läßt sich leicht vermeiden, indem man annimmt, daß τὸ μὲν μᾶλλον <μεταλαμβάνον> und τὸ δὲ ἧττον [sc. μεταλαμβάνον] partitive Appositionen zu ἕκαστον sind und jeweils aus 747,25-26 λέγεται ὅμοιον καὶ ἀνόμοιον mitzudenken ist. Schreibe entsprechend: τὸ μὲν μᾶλλον <μεταλαμβάνον μᾶλλον> [sc. λέγεται ὅμοιον καὶ ἀνόμοιον], τὸ δὲ ἧττον δῆλον ὡς ἧττον, mit Komma statt Hochpunkt an das Vorhergehende anzuschließen.

Diese Beispiele seien angeführt, um das von den edd. P. gezeichnete Zerrbild der ,guten' Edition einerseits (der ed. P.), der ,schlechten' andererseits (der ed. O.) ein wenig zurechtzurücken. Natürlich liegt in meiner Anführung ausschließlich negativer Beispiele eine gewisse Einseitigkeit, aber sie soll hier als Korrektiv der Einseitigkeit dienen, mit der die edd. P. ihre Vorgänger kritisieren. Im übrigen sollen die großen und offensichtlichen Verdienste der ed. P. nicht verschwiegen werden: erhebliche Fortschritte in der Analyse der handschriftlichen Überlieferung, in der Darbietung der relevanten Zeugen dieser Überlieferung wie auch in der Dokumentation moderner editorischer Interventionen, nicht zuletzt in der (von gelegentlichen Ausnahmen abgesehen) sorgfältigen Prüfung des handschriftlich Überlieferten. Die Edition weckt Freude über viele schöne neue Ergebnisse; leider ist diese – aus den genannten Gründen – eine vergällte Freude.

Notes:

1.   Carlos Steel/Caroline Mace/Pieter d'Hoine, Procli in Platonis Parmenidem Commentaria. Tomus I libros I-III continens, Oxford 2007.
2.   Vgl. z.B. 128-129, 131, 150, 169-171, 173, 195-196, 208, 215-217, 243-244, 251, 255, 260-261, 270-273, 279, 285, 287.
3.   Vgl. Concetta Luna/Alain-Philippe Segonds, Proclus: Commentaire sur le Parménide de Platon. Tome III, 1^re partie: Introduction au livre III, Paris 2011, lxxxii-cccxliv („Chapitre I.II: L'édition d'Oxford").
4.   Die edd. O. drucken versehentlich ὑποτιθὲν aus A statt ὑποτεθὲν.
5.   Vgl. das Fazit über die ed. O. in Luna/Segonds, Proclus: Commentaire sur le Parménide de Platon. Tome III, a.a.O. [Anm. 3], cccxviii: „[...] la maîtrise des techniques philologiques et même tout simplement la connaissance de la langue grecque s'avèrent insuffisantes, s'agissant d'une édition qui prétend être l'édition critique définitive. Il y a donc nécessité de donner une nouvelle édition appuyée sur la connaissance complète et exacte de la documentation manuscrite et des conjectures proposées par les savants, et conforme aux méthodes philologiques aujourd'hui généralement appliquées."
6.   Vgl. meine Besprechung zu Leen Van Campe/Carlos Steel, Procli in Platonis Parmenidem Commentaria. Tomus III libros VI-VII continens, Oxford 2009, in: Gnomon 83 (2011), 485-492, hier 487.
7.   Vgl. oben Anm. 5.

2012.01.45

2012-01-27T10:11:00.001-05:00

Mabel Lang, Thucydidean Narrative and Discourse. Ann Arbor: Michigan Classical Press, 2011. Pp. xxiii, 219. ISBN 9780979971341. $65.00. Contributors: Edited by Jeffrey S. Rusten and Richard Hamilton.

Reviewed by Timothy Doran, University of California at Berkeley (doran@berkeley.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

[The Table of Contents appears at the end of the review.]

Mabel Lang died in 2010 after 53 years of publishing a dozen books and over four dozen articles on Greek history, archaeology, epigraphy, and literature on topics varying from the Greek abacus to Homeric prayers. At Bryn Mawr she was Paul Shorey Professor of Greek, receiving this title in 1971 after Richmond Lattimore. This edition of her works on Thucydides, collected and edited by Rusten and Hamilton, contains a brief foreword by Mary Patterson McPherson giving the reader an impression of Lang's character and personal style; an essay by Rusten; Lang's essays themselves, which number fifteen, most previously published; an absorbing biographical sketch by her student Eleanor Dickey explaining Lang's cult status at Bryn Mawr and manifest gifts as teacher and scholar; a list of Lang's publications; and a bibliography. Rusten's essay describes Lang's modes of analysis, explains how the volume is organized, and discusses each essay within, alerting readers to others' works which have picked up where Lang left off, or have productively disagreed with Lang's views.

This volume overall contributes to the growing body of studies of Thucydidean narratology and to many historical events and issues in Thucydides' text. It will thus not alienate those scholars to whom some narratological analysis may seem overly contrived. Its essays can be profitably read alongside Hornblower's three-volume Commentary on Thucydides and particularly his 1994 essay "Narratology and Thucydides," Rood's Thucydides: Narrative and Explanation, even very historical and non-narratological works on Thucydides like Gomme, Andrewes, and Dover Historical Commentary on Thucydides, as well as more speech-focused recent works such as Carolyn Dewald's Thucydides' War Narrative: a Structural Study, Paula Debnar's Speaking the Same Language: Speech and Audience in Thucydides' Spartan Debates, Jeffrey Rusten (ed.), Thucydides (Oxford Readings in Classical Studies), and many essays in the recent Brill's Companion to Thucydides, especially those by Rood, Morrison, Stahl, and Bakker. Although focused on form and structure, Lang neither blocks out the exterior world of other types of evidence and authors, nor radically reconceptualizes Thucydides' work as a sort of Hartogian or Fehlingesque "Thucydidean imaginary." All the same, her primary criterion for her judgment of Thucydides in most essays here is his authorial effectiveness, not his accuracy as might be controlled from other evidence. This balance works very well, with some exceptions. Rather than skimming too briefly over each essay in this book, many of which, again, have been published already, I here explore those I consider particularly relevant or representative.

The essays published as Chapters 2 through 9, all previously published from 1948 to 1996, focus more on historical events than on Thucydides' text. "A Note on Ithome," originally published in 1967, discusses Thucydides' account of the Spartan promise to the Thasians to invade Attike in order to prevent the Athenians from taking Thasos. Lang's interpretation does not entirely convince. Most see the Spartans' failure to invade Attike as resulting from Sparta's horrific earthquake of the 460s. Lang instead sees the Spartans summoning the Athenians into the Peloponnese in order to divert them from taking Thasos, thus keeping their promise to the Thasians, and then dismissing them since upon Thasos' capture there was no point in diverting the Athenians any longer. Yet de Ste. Croix' explanation for the Spartan dismissal of the Athenian forces meshes better with Thucydides' own: namely, that the Spartans were afraid that the Athenians might have sympathy for the helots, and distrusted the Athenians on ethno-racial grounds.¹ And if the earthquake was even a small fraction as damaging as is suggested by the tradition preserved in Diodorus Siculus 11.63.4 and Plutarch's Kimon 16, perhaps Sparta was too pressed by Spartiate deaths and massive joint helot-perioikic revolt to engage in subtle diplomacy of the kind Lang reconstructs.

"Scapegoat Pausanias," also originally published in 1967 and presented here as chapter 4, questions Thucydides' narration of the Spartan regent Pausanias' degeneration in the Hellespont after the Persian Wars and Sparta's subsequent punishment of him (Thuc. 1.128-134). Many details in Thucydides' account indeed seem implausible, such as how precisely the letter from Pausanias to Xerxes could have been discovered (Thuc. 1.128.6). But as Lang notes, many cruces in the passage have been used by different scholars both to support and to undermine Thucydides' historical accuracy, such as the Persian locutions in Xerxes' letter in 1.129.3; these can support its accuracy or tell against it since they might seem planted. Moreover, some of Lang's suspicions may not convince all readers. She distrusts Thucydides' account of Sparta's failure to protest Pausanias' demotion and eviction from Byzantion. However, this might instead evidence a rather panhellenist Spartan horror at Pausanias' stylistic Medism, as Thucydides described in 1.130—that is, at Pausanias' going native like Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. Lang argues that the Spartan government authorized Pausanias' Persian parleys and, upon these being made public, branded him a rogue agent. Her reconstruction is ingenious, but highly hypothetical—as she herself admits.

Analysis of patterns in Thucydides' writing predominates in the essays published as chapters 1 and 10—15; these all date from the 1990s and later. "Participial Motivation in Thucydides," first published in 1995 and printed here as chapter 1, analyzes how Thucydides attributes motivation to his individuals with participles conveying knowing, perceiving, thinking, willing, expecting, or trusting. Lang notes that most of the individuals whose motivations Thucydides describes, such as Cleon, were probably not among his circle of informants: this implies, naturally, that he took liberties in assessing motivation. The essay ends with two appendices: one listing men by name and the participles used to motivate their actions, and another organized by participle with the names of the persons upon whom they were used and their connected actions. This should prove a fine tool for further analysis of persons in Thucydides.

Chapter 11, "Thucydides as Speech-Writer," reconstructed from Lang's notes by Hamilton and Rusten, compares two speeches from Thucydides 4: that by Brasidas to the Akanthians, and that by Hermocrates to the Sicilians. Lang plausibly argues that Thucydides never heard these, but had to invent them along his usual lines. These speeches both feature ring composition and unity of theme expressed through recurring catchphrases. Here Lang argues that the repetitiveness of Brasidas' notorious invocations of freedom alongside his threats may display Thucydides' delight in the curt, reusable effectiveness of his own rhetorical creation. Lang convincingly argues that the formulaic nature of these speeches differs from speeches Thucydides gives to the two men elsewhere because these speeches perforce involved less reportage and more creative effort on Thucydides' part. A similar difference in rhetorical texture appears in a speech Alcibiades gave to the Spartans at 6.89-92, which differs from Thucydides' other speech of Alcibiades at 6.16-18: Lang argues from this fact and from the speech's circularity that it nicely represents the Thucydidean τὰ δέοντα.

"Thucydides, First Person," also never published, appears as Chapter 12. It first foregrounds the difference between the Herodotean historei and the Thucydidean sungraphei—to Lang, these are respectively acts of compiling versus interpretation. This distinction helps to inform the other ways by which Thucydides separates himself from Herodotus. This leads to a brilliant, hilarious reinterpretation of Thucydides' opening words in which the anxiety of (Herodotean) influence lies behind almost every phrase, then a careful listing of distinctions among the patterns of Thucydides' usages of first-person pronouns and verbs, finding some usages to be interpretive or explanatory and others to be argumentative. Chapter 15, "Necessary for whom? Direct vs. Indirect Speeches in Thucydides," another previously unpublished essay, is the longest and most involved piece in the volume. In it Lang argues that Thucydides uses direct discourse to interpret and explain, and indirect discourse to show motivation and the creation of incentives for desired behavior. She then builds on this to create an increasingly complex series of distinctions. For example, in structured pairs of direct and indirect speeches, direct speeches occur when the speaker needs to make a more difficult argument so that rhetorical flourishes may help it, whereas indirect speeches suffice for more obvious arguments. Her detection of these elaborate, hidden structures of paired and tripled speeches—some chiastic, some in the order of thesis- antithesis-synthesis—in many places in Thucydides' account enables her to argue (unsurprisingly) that the structure and function of some sets of speeches in his text is too contrived to represent an unembellished account of the actual proceedings (e.g. the Plataian-Theban debate in Thucydides Book 3) and concludes that Thucydides has resorted to writing "τὰ δέοντα with a vengeance" (p. 173). This will not be very surprising to most readers in the 21^st century. The essay ends with a chart over nine pages long compiled by Lang and Rusten which codes each speech in Thucydides 2-5.25, 6, and 7 according to whether it is written in direct or indirect discourse, what its type is (proposal, interchange, advice, excuse, command, anecdote, etc.), and its response (negative, no response, or positive). This sort of tabular format, with its abbreviations, looks intimidating and may leave chartophobic classicists cold, but that is beside the point; it is a real feat of analysis allowing us to see how Thucydides used words, and can enable scholars to discover further patterns. Admittedly Lang's discovery of such highly elaborated speech patterns may strike some readers as an overly imaginative, overly schematic quasi- numerology at first. And not everyone will be convinced that these structures exist, or carry the meanings she sees. One is reminded of Gordon Shrimpton's caveat in his review of her methodologically similar 1984 work Herodotean Narrative and Discourse: "is so varied a 'pattern' really one at all, and not a mere reflection of the multiformity of reality?"² Even if not everyone is entirely convinced, many will find Lang's schema helpful for teaching and reading Thucydides at an advanced level; and the lengths she has gone to support her schema exhibit the rigorous analysis for which she was famous.

The editors deserve credit for their publication of this coda to a great scholar's life. While it is true that many of these essays can be obtained (for those affiliated with subscribing institutions) through JSTOR, the new material in the book (74 pages of unpublished material from Lang, 25 pages from other scholars in the personal essays and such, and a complete bibliography) justifies its modest expense. I am unconvinced by some of Lang's arguments, but they are ingenious and well-wrought nevertheless, and I may be on the skeptical end of the spectrum of these sorts of things. Aside from this, overall this collection of Lang's writings should complement any bookshelf devoted to Thucydides or to narratological approaches to ancient literature.

Acknowledgements (Jeffrey Rusten and Richard Hamilton) ix
Foreword (Mary Patterson McPherson) xi
Mabel Lang on Thucydides (Jeffrey Rusten) xiii
Part One: Narrative
1 Participial Motivation in Thucydides (1995) 1
Narrative Inconsistencies Internal and External: 17
2 A Note on Ithome (1967) 19
3 Kylonian Conspiracy (1967) 27
4 Scapegoat Pausanias (1967) 37
5 The Murder of Hipparchus (1955) 49
6 Alcibiades vs. Phrynicus (1996) 63
Narrative Structure and Historical Interpretation: 71
7 Thucydides and the Epidamnian Affair (1968) 73
8 The Revolution of the 400 (1948) 79
9 Revolution of the 400: Chronology and Constitutions (1967) 97
Part Two: Discourse
Thucydidean Thought-Patterns 111
10 Thucydidean Thought (2002) 113
11 Thucydides as Speech-Writer (previously unpublished) 117
Herodotean Inheritances and Adaptations 127
12 Thucydides, First Person (previously unpublished) 129
13 The Thucydidean Tetralogy (1.67-88) (1999) 139
14 The Paired Speeches of the Corinthians (1.120-24) and Pericles (1.140-44) and the Stories They Enclose (previously unpublished) 145
15 Necessary for Whom? Direct vs. Indirect Speeches in Thucydides 151
Biographical Sketch (Eleanor Dickey) 197
Publications by Mabel Lang 209
Bibliography 213

Notes:

1. De Ste. Croix, The Origins of the Peloponnesian War (1972), 179-80.
2. Shrimpton, Gordon S. Review of Herodotean Narrative and Discourse by Mabel Lang (Cambridge and London, 1984). Phoenix vol. 39, No. 1, Spring 1985, 80-83.

2012.01.44

2012-01-26T23:06:00.001-05:00

Laurianne Martinez-Sève, Atlas du monde hellénistique (336-31 av. J.-C.): pouvoirs et territoires après Alexandre le Grand. Atlas. Mémoires. Paris: Autrement, 2011. Pp. 80. ISBN 9782746714908. €17.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Pierre Fröhlich, Université de Paris-1-Panthéon-Sorbonne (pierre.frohlich@univ-paris1.fr)

Version at BMCR home site

Cet atlas appartient à une série de petits ouvrages de qualité, destinés au grand public cultivé et aux étudiants. Les cartes, de format relativement petit, sont accompagnées de textes de présentation, de tableaux, de schémas et de brefs extraits de documents écrits. Il s'agit en fait d'une véritable introduction à l'histoire du monde hellénistique.

Après une brève présentation des sources disponibles et des débats historiographiques, puis un tableau du monde grec en 336, l'auteur aborde une série de chapitres d'abord chronologiques. Le règne d'Alexandre bénéficie d'une partie à part, les cartes retraçant les phases successives de son règne avant de s'achever sur les structures de l'Empire. Cette partie du livre est moins originale que les suivantes, dans la mesure où la conquête d'Alexandre a déjà été abondamment cartographiée. On notera cependant l'intérêt des cartes consacrées aux années 229-224, soutenues par la connaissance qu'a l'auteur des régions alors parcourues par l'armée d'Alexandre, et qui sont plus précises qu'à l'ordinaire. La partie suivante, « un monde en mouvement », obéit à un découpage chronologique. Les cartes, à petite échelle, sont nombreuses et offrent soit des vues d'ensemble à des dates-clef (301, 281, vers 246, etc.), soit des vues sur telle partie du monde hellénistique (p.ex. l'Orient en 130 et 67). Les quatre parties suivantes sont consacrées à une aire géographique (et politique): "Les Séleucides et leurs voisins", "Les Lagides", "Le monde égéen" et "Le monde occidental". C'est la partie du livre la plus dense et la plus intéressante. L'ouvrage se termine par des tableaux généalogiques, une chronologie, un bref glossaire et une bibliographie succincte.

L'auteur a donc écrit un ouvrage qui s'apparente à un manuel d'enseignement supérieur, mais d'une grande qualité comme d'une originalité certaine. L'atout principal en est naturellement l'illustration. Si nombre de cartes s'appuient sur une cartographie scientifique relativement fournie et bien diffusée (ainsi pour le royaume séleucide), leur abondance et leur variété permettent un regard neuf, car la représentation cartographique est également porteuse d'une synthèse d'un genre un peu différent. Le livre permet ainsi de visualiser, certes de façon très simplifiée, des situations rarement montrées de la sorte, comme, pour ne donner que quelques exemples, la Grèce entre 301 et 287 (p. 23), le monde hellénistique vers 145 (p. 27), les phases de la désintégration du royaume séleucide (p. 42-43), la domination lagide en Égée (p. 48-49), les opérations de Philippe V de Macédoine (p. 59), le rayonnement des concours de Magnésie du Méandre (p. 65), ou l'Adriatique au III^e et au II^e siècle (p. 72- 73). Mais les compétences de l'auteur l'ont également conduite à insérer une série de cartes sur l'Asie centrale, en dépit des difficultés dues aux très sérieuses lacunes documentaires. D'où la relative imprécision de la carte de l'Asie centrale séleucide (p. 34), néanmoins utile. On saluera la présence de celles consacrées à "l'Extrême-Orient grec" (p. 44-45), rarement offertes dans des ouvrages généraux, qui bénéficient des acquis les plus récents de la recherche en ce domaine. Elles ont l'avantage de prolonger la représentation au-delà de la Bactriane, jusqu'au I^er siècle de notre ère.

Tel quel, l'ouvrage s'inscrit dans un genre bien déterminé – le manuel ou le livre d'initiation – et dans une tradition cartographique particulière. On ne s'y reportera pas pour localiser un lieu, une cité, une région donnée : pour cela, on dispose d'instruments infiniment plus précis, comme le Barrington Atlas, voire le vieux mais non remplacé Westermann Atlas zur Weltgeschichte, dont la partie antique garde encore de la valeur.¹ Les cartes de cet atlas, réalisées par M. Benoit-Guyot, ont pour but de donner à voir et à comprendre des phénomènes, des évolutions, des dynamiques, selon une approche que l'on pourrait rapidement qualifier de française. Les brefs textes qui les accompagnent ne sont jamais redondants. S'ils sont par la force des choses très synthétiques et procèdent à bien des simplifications, ils ne sont pas simplistes. En définitive, cet atlas procure, par les cartes et le texte, malgré sa brièveté apparente, une remarquable densité d'informations. Si l'on considère la vaste et complexe matière sur laquelle cette synthèse est édifiée, il y a là un tour de force qu'il faut saluer.

L'atlas s'éloigne souvent de l'histoire événementielle pour permettre de visualiser des structures, comme l'intéressante carte sur "Les formes d'organisation politique dans le royaume séleucide" (p. 39), où on a tenté de distinguer à la fois les zones où le modèle de la cité domine de celles où l'organisation du peuplement est villageoise, tout en faisant voir les zones où le contrôle séleucide paraît plus faible. On trouvera également une carte de l'organisation de l'Égypte lagide, moins originale, comme une tentative de cartographie des "ressources et revenus du royaume lagide", donc des échanges (p. 50 et 52). Certes, toutes les cartes ne sont pas convaincantes² et l'on peut trouver, dans le détail, matière à bien des discussions.³ Mais c'est le corollaire de toute entreprise de synthèse. Même limitée à un aspect que traduit le sous-titre du livre ("pouvoirs et territoires"), elle demeure vaste.⁴

Les ambitions cartographiques sont donc assez grandes. C'est à la fois la force et la faiblesse de l'ouvrage. Nos connaissances sont parfois si faibles que l'on doute de la pertinence de certaines cartes: ainsi p. 12 celle des tentatives de reconquête perse en Asie Mineure, qui se limite à un vague et contestable liseré orangé pour matérialiser la zone côtière censée avoir été reconquise, et à quatre grosses flèches indiquant de vagues directions des offensives terrestres. La carte – on devrait plutôt parler de croquis – ne donne en fait rien à voir et n'apporte guère à la compréhension de la période: était-elle utile? Les mêmes remarques peuvent s'appliquer à celle p. 18, où la "contre attaque macédonienne" face à la révolte d'Agis III est signalée par une flèche reliant en ligne directe Pella à la Grèce centrale, en s'affranchissant de toute contrainte de relief comme des trajets possibles. L'approche cartographique trouve ici ses limites. On peut également s'interroger sur la réussite de certaines tentatives de cartographie, comme celle qui porte sur la typologie de sources disponibles (p. 4-5), où l'on a distingué des zones en fonction de la quantité de documents disponible (forte, moyenne, faible, absence de document). L'intention est louable, qui devait être de donner à voir l'hétérogénéité de nos connaissances en fonction des régions, comme celle de la répartition des types de documents. Mais la typologie est trop simpliste pour ne pas paraître arbitraire. Il en va de même pour la carte de la p. 38, qui entend distinguer les densités humaines dans le royaume séleucide, entre trois zones. L'image d'ensemble n'est peut-être pas fausse, mais, en toute rigueur, l'établissement d'une telle carte est-elle réellement possible, lorsqu'une simple estimation démographique est impossible même dans les zones qui pouvaient avoir été les plus densément peuplées? Sur ce point, la carte donne l'illusion de la certitude, alors qu'elle n'est qu'une grossière approximation. On ne peut certes faire autrement, mais, sans avertissement sur son caractère hautement conjectural, cette carte est trompeuse.⁵ Très séduisant de prime abord, l'ouvrage cède ainsi parfois à l'illusion cartographique. Dans l'état de nos connaissances, il n'est peut-être pas possible de tout cartographier. Bien plus, la carte conduit à figer des réalités complexes et mouvantes. S'agissant de territoires, elle utilise des aplats et donne l'illusion de l'uniformité comme de l'existence de frontières. Les auteurs ont sans doute été conscients de cet obstacle en ne dessinant précisément pas de frontière. Mais la représentation des territoires des grands royaumes (voire du royaume attalide) n'est-elle pas malgré tout trompeuse ? Pour le royaume séleucide, on serait presque porté à se représenter la domination royale comme une sorte de peau de léopard dont on ne saurait trop comment en dresser une carte.

Cela dit, il n'entrait peut-être pas dans la nature de l'ouvrage de poser ces problèmes méthodologiques. Il aurait néanmoins été souhaitable de signaler aux lecteurs les incertitudes qui pèsent sur la plupart de ces cartes.⁶ Ces réserves paraissent malgré tout minimes en regard du profit qu'auront les lecteurs de cet atlas dont le grand intérêt dépasse ce que le titre laisserait entendre. Il s'agit d'une excellente et originale introduction à l'histoire du monde hellénistique.

Notes:

1.   R.J.A. Talbert (dir.), Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World, Princeton 2000. E. Kirsten et H. E. Stier, Westermann großer Altlas zur Weltgeschichte, Braunschweig, 1965.
2.   Celles de l'Égypte lagide ne sont pas particulièrement claires. La multiplication des cercles de couleurs sur les villes les rend malaisément lisibles (ainsi p. 50-51). Celle de la p. 52, consacrée aux échanges, combinant peut-être trop d'informations, ne semble pas non plus très lisible. Le croquis de la bataille de Gaugamèles (p. 14) n'est pas non plus des plus lumineux. On pourra également regretter le parti-pris consistant à avoir reproduit le tracé moderne des côtés (ainsi en Asie Mineure).
3.   Par exemple, les limites septentrionales de la domination des successeurs d'Alexandre et surtout des Séleucides paraissent régulièrement surestimées. Il en va de même pour les limites de la zone placée sous l'emprise rhodienne (p. 40 et 64). Sur cette dernière page, on s'interroge sur la notion de "cité cliente de Rhodes" appliquée aux cités de Carie libres en 188, dans lesquelles on a inclus Milet. P. 41, on pourrait aussi regretter que l'on ne tienne pas compte du fait que Pergame était une cité avec un véritable centre urbain (même modeste) avant les Attalides.
4.   On a donc des scrupules à exprimer quelques regrets : pourquoi offrir une carte des aspects économiques limitée aux Lagides ? Pourquoi ne pas avoir donné une carte actualisée des fondations de cités ? Si les aspects culturels du monde hellénistique sont exclus, ils ne le sont pas complètement, comme en témoigne la carte du rayonnement des concours de Magnésie du Méandre. On aurait pu effectuer une comparaison avec, par exemple, ceux de Cos. Mais on regrette que n'ait pas été tentée la cartographie, là encore actualisée, de la diffusion du gymnase (comme institution et comme monument), celle du théâtre, voire de la langue grecque.
5.   La carte de la p. suivante, sur les structures du royaume, déjà évoquée, pourrait encourir le même reproche.
6.   De même, si l'on voit bien l'intérêt de ces brefs extraits de documents insérés à chaque double page, on se demande comment le public visé pourra en tirer profit: en dehors des auteurs anciens, les références aux sources, tablettes, inscriptions et papyrus, ne sont données que par le biais d'abréviations compréhensibles du seul public savant. Une liste des abréviations et une indication sur la nature de la source manquent.

2012.01.43

2012-01-26T22:43:00.001-05:00

Marie-Joséphine Werlings, Le dèmos avant la démocratie: mots, concepts, réalités historiques. Paris: Presses universitaires de Paris ouest, 2010. Pp. 379. ISBN 9782840160755. €25.00 (pb).

Reviewed by James Kierstead, Stanford University (jamesk2@stanford.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

[Table of Contents is listed at the end of the review.]

This book is a revised version of Werlings's doctoral thesis, which was submitted to the Université Paris Ouest Nanterre La Défense in 2008 and was awarded the Prix René Rémond in 2010. It offers an exhaustive analysis of the instances of the word δῆμος in archaic literature and epigraphy, from Mycenaean times to the reforms of Solon. Although her decision to limit the scope of her investigation to texts produced in archaic and earlier times means that the picture of the pre-democratic dēmos her book produces is incomplete, her analysis is wide-ranging in both time and space, her discussions of individual texts are on the whole judicious and stimulating, and the apparently narrow philological task she has set herself has nonetheless some important implications for the political history of the archaic Greek city-states and for the history of democracy.

The work has three goals. First, it seeks to detach the word δῆμος from its classical usage, not only showing the richness of its significations in the archaic period, but also distinguishing it from other terms designating the people, for example λαός and οἱ κακοί. Second, it attempts to understand the relationship between the two fundamental meanings of δῆμος, the totality of inhabitants of a given territory and a sub-group of those inhabitants, the poor; and to use this understanding to attain a fresh perspective on the rise of the polis. Finally, it aims to utilize this new perspective to write a new political history of the archaic city-states, or at least to set the contours within which such a novel account might be written (16-7).

Werlings's methodology is to consider one by one every instance of the word δῆμος (in its various forms, along with a few other related words) in the archaic literary and epigraphic sources. (It is partly in making full use of inscriptions that Werlings considers her book an advance upon the earlier works of Forti-Messina and Donlan, 17). She believes that this approach will enable her to avoid imposing on archaic realities the potentially misleading categories of analysis of political theories drawn from another age, whether the twenty-first century of the common era or the fourth century preceding it (19). But her intention is not simply to write the history of a word or words; instead, 'il s'agit, à travers les mots, d'atteindre la réalité politique et sociale qu'ils désignent et de la définir dans les contextes dans lesquelles elle apparaît.' (20)

For Werlings, the Mycenaean damos as it emerges from the study of the relevant tablets has three salient features: it is rural and anchored in a particular territory; it has a complex internal structure; and it is self-subsistent, though at the same time linked to the palace through various functionaries (29). Previous studies drew a distinction between the damos and the laos (or *rawo), the class of producers and the class of warriors, and imagined that they were overseen by a wanax (political ruler) and rawaketa (military leader) respectively (40-1). For Werlings, all that can reliably be said is that the damos is a collectivity that is almost never found in association with a particular leader, while the existence of the *rawo, by contrast, is deduced purely from the existence of a functionary called the rawaketa. This dependence of the *rawo upon the rawaketa contrasts with the position of the damo, which appears to have its own dependent labourers, slave and free (45).

In the next chapter, Werlings provides a detailed analysis of the usage of λαός and δῆμος in the Homeric epics. Against those scholars who see the laos as an essentially military group, Werlings agrees with Benveniste that a laos is simply any group of men under the authority of some leader (51-2). A dēmos, by contrast, is in the first instance a region or territory, and then the population inhabiting that territory (65). She concludes that the two terms represent two different but complementary ways of thinking about a human group: insofar as it follows a leader, it is a laos; insofar as it inhabits a certain territory, it is a dēmos (87).

The chapter on archaic city-states outside Sparta and Athens is arranged geographically by region, and ranges from the Ionian islands to Asia Minor; the evidence analyzed is mainly epigraphic, with the exception of the sections on Boeotia, Megara, and Mytilene (144-58), which consist of readings of relevant passages in the poetry of Hesiod, Theognis, and Alcaeus respectively. Werlings's survey reminds us of the abundant evidence for democratic practices outside of Athens in the late archaic period; the best example is perhaps Elis, where inscriptions suggest the dēmos already had considerable powers by the end of the sixth century (133).

The chapter on Sparta begins with discussions of a few key fragments of Tyrtaeus and Alcman (4 and 12 West and 3.3 and 17 Davies, 184-204), and continues with a narrative of the progressive delimitation of the Sparta damos through colonization and warfare (205-10). The second half of the chapter is devoted to a detailed discussion of the Spartan rhetra (210-21), whose importance lies (for Werlings) in its institutionalization of the already existing practice of mass assemblies through the stipulation that they should take place regularly or periodically, ὥρας ἐξ ὥρας (217).

Werlings's approach to Solon's reforms is again marked by an awareness that mass assemblies were by this time already a longstanding practice in Greek city-states. So for example she interprets Solon's claim ἐγὼ δὲ τῶν μὲν οὑνεκα ξυνήγαγον/ δῆμον in fragment 36 West to mean, not that he formed a 'popular party', or that he reconciled rich and poor, but that he called an assembly before enacting his reforms (229-30). For Werlings, Solon did not so much reform institutions as recognize and codify already existing practices. Solon's chief contribution was in fact to render possible the more thoroughgoing institutional reforms later carried out by Cleisthenes (263).

The Conclusion returns to issues of the dēmos and territoriality (268-72), the dēmos and the collective voice (272-82), and finally to the inherent ambiguity in the term dēmos between the whole of a population and to the poor within it, an ambiguity, the author concludes, which has not ceased to haunt democratic communities to the present day (282-9).

Comments

The payoffs of Werlings's philological method for the understanding of the development of archaic politics are often evident in the implications she draws from the pattern of a word's usage in a particular context. So for example after observing that the word λαός – used of groups with leaders, remember – gradually disappears at the end of the archaic period, she suggests that this pattern is related to a decline in structures of hierarchy associated with the rise of the classical polis (88). And after noting how sparingly the word δῆμος is employed in Theognis' denunciations of οἱ κακοί, she draws the implication that δῆμος could not easily be applied to a subset of the populace rather than the populace as a whole (120).

If Werlings's interpretations of the textual evidence are usually sound, she occasionally underestimates the difficulties involved in deducing historical realities from literary works, whose narratives are pursuing literary agendas of their own. So for example Aigyptios's claim in Odyssey Book 2 (26-7) that this is the first time the assembly on Ithaca has met since Odysseus sailed for Troy cannot be taken straightforwardly as evidence that Homeric assemblies met, as a rule, only when the need arose; the lines are surely motivated partly by a narrative need to emphasize the importance of Odysseus to Ithaca and the collapse of its sense of community since his departure.

On one occasion at least she fails sufficiently to interrogate a word that is not among her chosen few but is crucial to the overall meaning of a phrase: in contending that the rider appended to the Spartan rhetra (Plut., Lyc. 6.4- 5), does not change the fact that the final decision appears to rest with the citizen assembly (221), Werlings fails to consider the possible force of the word ἀποστατῆρας, which may well imply that the kings and elders could reject, and not simply delay, decisions of the people. One route available to those who believe that the Spartan assembly was in fact sovereign in the classical period is to follow the proposal made by Ogden ¹ in an article not cited by Werlings that the rider is in fact older than the body of the rhetra and was thus at some point overruled by it.

Since Werlings's declared aims include putting forward – or at least preparing the way for – a new understanding of the politics of the archaic Greek city-states (of 'réalités' as well as 'mots' and 'concepts', to quote her sub-title), it should not be considered unfair to comment briefly on the limitations of her methodology in providing anything approaching a complete picture of the political developments of the age. There are two major limitations in focusing on texts of the archaic period: it excludes all texts of later periods that might provide accurate information about earlier times; and it excludes all non-textual evidence from the archaic period, notably the evidence of archaeology.

Because of the first omission in particular, Werlings's book is best read in conjunction with Eric Robinson's 1997 volume, The First Democracies², which she surprisingly fails to cite, and which makes extensive use of post-archaic sources, especially Aristotle, in reconstructing democratic institutions in sixteen archaic city-states outside Athens. In many instances, having recourse to classical sources would have strengthened Werlings's case; for example, she bases her contention that the Spartan assembly did not simply confirm or reject motions put to it, but engaged in full deliberation, entirely on Tyrtaeus fragment 4 West, when the fact at issue emerges quite clearly from the classical narrative historians³.

The archaeological evidence would also have strengthened Werlings's central case – that the demos was already a central force even in the archaic city-states – while giving it greater content, by for example drawing attention to the apparently simultaneous increase in the power of the δῆμος in a number of city-states and in the number of undifferentiated adult male burial plots – suggesting a developing egalitarianism – across mainland Greece⁴. In any case, Werlings's decision to focus her account of Solon's reforms on the fragments of his poetry contrasts strikingly with other recent accounts of sixth-century Athens that make an effort to move away from familiar texts and the perennial controversies surrounding them⁵.

Werlings's concentration on the word δῆμος unsurprisingly results in a narrative of the origins of democracy that presents the process as led gradually forward by a collectivity, rather than periodically spurred into movement by individual statesmen. At times, though, she may understate the extent to which the development of democratic institutions were dependent upon institutional design as well as to the mere existence of a unified dēmos. For instance, she declares that Arist. Pol. 2.12, 1274a, 15-9 shows that Solon's reforms were concerned with 'la question de l'existence du demos' (243); but what the passage seems more concerned with are concrete institutions (such as euthunai) through which the dēmos might effect its will.

An unresolved issue of historical causation stemming from Ober's characterization of the Cleisthenic revolution as dēmos-led⁶ is that it appears to raise the question of where that dēmos came from, in other words, how and when it emerged as a collective agent. Werlings's careful study goes some way to providing an answer to the second part of that question: far from being a classical invention, the dēmos was a ancient social unit with roots in Mycenaean times. It leaves unanswered the first part of the question – what forces, active in archaic Greece but apparently in few other periods of world history – shaped the dēmos into a collectivity with enough agency to make dēmokratia viable. But it remains, within the limits its author set it, a reliable, useful, and stimulating book.

Introduction: 11-20
Autour du dēmos dans les royaumes mycéniens: 21-46
Λαός et δῆμος dans les épopées homériques: 47-108
Le dèmos dans les cités grecques archaïques – à l'exception de Sparte et Athènes: 109-78
Le damos spartiate et son rôle politique dans la Sparte archaïque: 179-222
Le dèmos athénien à l'époque de Solon (début du VI^e siècle): 223-266
Conclusion: 267-290
Annexes: 291-348
Bibliographie: 349-79

Notes:

1.  D. Ogden, (1994), 'Crooked speech: the genesis of the Spartan rhetra,' JHS 114, 85-102
2.  E.W. Robinson (1997), The First Democracies: Early Popular Government Outside Athens, Stuttgart: Steiner
3.   See e.g. A. Andrewes (1966), 'The Government of Classical Sparta', in Badian (ed.), Ancient Society and Institutions: Essays in Honour of Victor Ehrenberg, Oxford: OUP, 1-20
4.   I. Morris (1996), 'The Strong Principle of Equality and the Archaic Origins of Greek Democracy', in Ober and Hedrick (eds.), Dēmokratia: A Conversation on Democracies, Ancient and Modern, Princeton: PUP, 19-48.
5.   See e.g. G. Anderson (2003), The Athenian Experiment: Building an Imagined Political Community in Ancient Attica, 508-490 BC, Ann Arbor: UMP
6.   J. Ober (1993), 'The Athenian Revolution of 508/7 BCE', in Dougherty and Kurke (eds.), Cultural Poetics in Ancient Greece, Cambridge, CUP, 215-32

2012.01.42

2012-01-26T22:23:00.001-05:00

S. L. McGowen, Sacred and Civic Stone Monuments of the Northwest Roman Provinces. BAR international series 2109. Oxford: Archaeopress, 2010. Pp. vii, 159. ISBN 9781407306506. £35.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Margaret L. Laird, University of Washington, Seattle (mlaird@uw.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

When, by the late first century A.D, the indigenous inhabitants of northwestern Europe and Britain were incorporated into the Roman empire, large-scale sculpture in stone was among the practices they adopted. McGowen seeks to understand the stylistic, formal, and iconographic choices that patrons made as they negotiated this new medium. In Chapter One, she proposes a case-study approach that focuses on sixteen "core sites" whose preserved monuments include varying combinations of architectural and relief sculpture as well as free-standing statuary. These well-preserved sacred and civic sites are geographically and chronologically scattered and are distinguished by their density of preserved sculpture in sufficiently documented archaeological and social contexts. The sacred sites include the sanctuary of Sulis Minerva at Bath and the Mithraeum in London (both in Britannia); the sanctuaries of Hercules at Deneuvre, Apollo and Sirona at Hochscheid, and an unknown deity at Champlieu (Gallia Belgica); the sanctuaries of Mercury and Rosmerta (?) at Genainville, and Mars (?) at Montmarte (Gallia Lugdunensis); and the sanctuary of the Matronae Aufaniae at Nettersheim (Germania Inferior). The corpus of civic monuments is limited to arches found at Londinium (Britannia); Reims (Gallia Belgica); Mainz and Besançon (Germania Superior); Carpentras, Orange, and ancient Glanum (Gallia Narbonensis); and Susa (Alpes Cottiae).

Chapter Two introduces each core site and its monuments in three chronological groups. Much of this chapter is description, although McGowen clarifies some contested details. Site plans, particularly of the sanctuaries, and reconstruction drawings of the arches would have added detail and specificity to each core site.

Chapter Three examines how patrons, artists, and the material from which a sculpture was carved impacted its style. The client kings who commissioned the arch at Susa and, perhaps, the initial phase of the sanctuary at Bath may have been inspired by personal experiences of Italian monuments to create Roman-style works that underscored their allegiance to the capital. For local magistrates and priests, carved stone monuments could project loyalty, status, and piety. Most commissioners, however, were ordinary people, although wealthy enough to afford stone monuments. The otherwise unknown individuals who dedicated over fifty stelae in the sanctuary of Hercules at Deneuvre may have selected a style that they deemed appropriate for that sanctuary's particular cultic focus.

McGowen's survey of inscriptions naming sculptores, marmorarii, and lapidarii illuminates the identity of stone carvers. Marmorarii, specialists in marble work, clustered near the quarries in the southern Gallic provinces. Some stone sculptors bore indigenous names, while others had Roman or even Greek names (though here, an inscribed name does not necessarily reflect an individual's cultural background, especially given the caché of a Greek name for an artist). Most importantly, McGowen's survey highlights the transient nature of sculptors, several of whom, she demonstrates, traveled for work.

Materials also impacted a monument's cost and style. Locally sourced limestone predominates, minimizing expense and facilitating construction. Imported stone (from the region or abroad) added significant cost to large projects like the arch at London, built from Lincolnshire limestone. McGowen calculates the quantities of material required to construct the monuments at each core site and examines the logistics and cost of transport (in wagon- or boat-loads and work days). This type of analysis makes sense for the better-preserved arches, discrete monuments built in a single campaign by a patron or patrons. Less satisfying are the calculations for the sanctuaries, whose precincts included temples and other buildings that are now in extremely fragmentary states. Ensembles of votive stelae and sculptures gradually accumulated over time, the gifts of multiple donors. McGowen estimates that the largest of these statues would have been carved from a block weighing 1.2 tonnes, an impressive amount of stone but one that cannot be effectively compared to the quantity of material necessary to construct even the smallest arch (Carpentras, 431 tonnes).

McGowen concludes the chapter by considering how patron, artist, and material together influenced sculptural style. This is not regional style, as the geographic and temporal spread of the core sites defy such an analysis. Rather, McGowen focuses on the dichotomy between "high-quality, naturalistic, traditionally Hellenic" pieces and those that are "less naturalistic and of a lower quality." (66-67) Reliefs on the arches at Glanum, Carpentras, and Orange, along with fragmentary sculptures from the sanctuary at Montmarte, conform to the Hellenizing style prevalent in southern France. Several imported pieces from the Mithraeum at London, like other imports found in Britain, are similarly classicizing. But much of the sculpture from the core site uses a more schematic style to render Greco-Roman and indigenous iconography. This choice may have ensured visual legibility (as on the arch at Susa) or reflected the limitations of material or artists' skill (the sandstone votive reliefs from Deneuvre) or signaled a reliance on local workshops (reliefs from the Mithraeum at London). McGowen makes an insightful point about stylistic plurality: low customer demand for sculpted monuments in the northwest provinces led to fewer sculptors overall and a less competitive market. Patrons, she suggests, did not desire a particular artistic style, but a sculpture's symbolic value as a gift to the gods or the community.

Chapter Four considers the imagery of sculpted monuments, their design and iconography. Drawing on present-day graphic design techniques, McGowen examines how the various monuments appealed to passersby. The earlier monuments (arches at Susa, Carpentras, and Glanum; the reliefs from the sanctuary at Deneuvre) utilize a "direct approach" characterized by simple, pared-down imagery. Repetition also made a monument memorable: multiple groups of captives recur on the arches at Glanum and Carpentras; the sanctuary at Deneuvre featured more than fifty nearly identical stelae. The panoply of votives must have been visually impressive, but such an agglutinative assemblage cannot be considered the product of a single design process, as with an arch. Other designers opted to use a "visual barrage" technique, covering a monument with a skin of relief (the sanctuary façade at Genaineville and the arch at Besançon). Because these monuments date to the second century, McGowen postulates a shift in viewer preference that reflects a period style found elsewhere in the empire. The Tiberian arch at Orange, however, furnishes an important early example of this trend. Moreover, had McGowen expanded her corpus, she could have included other early examples of visual barrage found on the mausoleum of the Julii at Saint-Rémy-de-Provence and on the Jupiter column at Mainz.

McGowen's examination of iconography yields interesting insights. Architectural sculptures from the sanctuary at Bath and the sanctuaries at Champlieu and Genainville demonstrate that monuments commissioned over time could include imagery that created cohesive iconographic programs appropriate to the cultic nature of each sanctuary and their rituals. On the arches, imagery expressed key messages about the emperor and the empire that shifted over time. Early arches (as at Carpentras, Glanum, and Orange) emphasize military victory and the emperor's personal virtus and felicitas. This broadens to a focus on felicitas temporum brought by the emperor and an expanded cosmic virtus (on the late second-century arches at Besançon and Reims) to a cosmic felicitas temporum (the late second-/early third-century arches at London and Mainz). McGowen supports this convincing reading with well-selected comparison monuments and literary testimonia. She concludes by emphasizing the agency of patrons, best illustrated on the arch at Susa. There, the lack of military imagery suggests that the client-king Cottius selected motifs that expressed the peaceful integration of the Alpes Cottiae. While Cottius shaped the overall program of the arch, it is also clear that he (or his designer) also adapted standard Roman iconographies to express his novel message. For example, to depict the treaty signing on the west façade (otherwise unattested in Roman art), the artist reworked the conventional image of the single magistrate seated on a curule chair, arm outstretched,¹ by placing its mirror reverse across the low table or altar. A deeper engagement with specific iconographies on this and other monuments might have revealed how such customizations nuanced and particularized the messages of the sculpture.

The final two chapters place sacred and civic stone monuments in their broader contexts alongside sculpted stone funerary monuments from the northwest provinces and among arches and sacred stone monuments from North Africa and the eastern provinces. These chapters are rather short (nine and seven pages, respectively) and McGowen has been selective rather than comprehensive. Stone funerary monuments, virtually nonexistent in the northwest provinces prior to the Romans' arrival, find many parallels with their sacred and civic counterparts. Their use spread slowly and, in some areas, was exclusive to military sites. Their patrons, few of whom ranked among the political or military elite, may have chosen to commemorate in stone to display their Roman status and citizenship. Although some sepulchral monuments (notably the third-century monument of the Secundinii at Igel) rely on "visual barrage," most funerary stelae position a single, frontal figure of the deceased in the center of the monument, a "direct approach" composition that resembles many votive stelae. The repeated use of motifs by particular social groups (for instance, images of riders on tombstones commissioned almost exclusively to commemorate auxiliary cavalry members) integrated the deceased into certain communities, just as, McGowen argues, the identical votive figures of Hercules or the Matronae Aufaniae emphasized ritual participation. Style or carving quality varies widely among funerary reliefs, suggesting that it was a secondary consideration. More complex funerary monuments and smaller stelae feature carefully composed visual programs, much like their civic counterparts. McGowen notes that funerary, sacred, and civic monuments often stood in close proximity to one another and their imagery and designs must have reinforced one another. The chapter raises interesting questions about the ways in which images and the objects they adorned functioned in various contexts, but McGowen's analysis of civic, votive, and funerary sculptures largely focuses on formal qualities. Further, a more detailed examination of funerary objects from the core sites and surrounding areas might have yielded insight into regional workshops or iconographic conventions.

The final chapter compares the core site monuments with their counterparts from two other multi-province regions, the Greek east and North Africa. In both regions, the tradition of stone sculpture was more robust, due to their population, wealth, urban development, and ready supplies of hard, high-quality stones. Comparing arches, McGowen notes a strong preference for architectural façades over relief sculpture in both areas. Arches that feature sculpture, however, (at Oea, Volubilis, and Pisidian Antioch) provide significant parallels to the core site arches, particularly in regards to the social status of their patrons, their application of the theme of felicitas temporum, and their reliance upon the imagery of victory and conquest. Turning to sacred stone monuments, McGowen adduces the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias, whose imperial cult function injected the imagery of imperial victory into a religious precinct. Some of the Sebasteion's themes and iconography closely parallel the messages and imagery on the Gallic arches. Although North African votive stelae were almost unanimously dedicated to Baal/Saturn and render the worshiper rather than the deity, they compositionally resemble the sacred sculptures from the core sites.

The study concludes with a catalog of the core sites that provides deeper historical context and thoroughly describes the monuments' sculptures, reliefs, and inscriptions.

While McGowen introduces other monuments as points of comparison, the book's conclusions rest firmly on the core site material. Consequently, McGowen's selection of the core sites has implications for the conclusions that follow. Most notably, the largely extra-urban sanctuaries do not easily compare to single arches. And, restricting the corpus of civic monuments to arches excludes monuments like the Jupiter Column at Mainz or the richly decorated tombs of the elite at Glanum and elsewhere. Nonetheless, McGowen's study commendably brings together a group of stone monuments and illuminates the formal and practical patterns that went into their creation.

Notes:

1. See, for instance, T. Schäfer, Imperii Insignia. Sella Curulis und Fasces (Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern, 1989), pl. 31.

2012.01.41

2012-01-24T19:13:00.001-05:00

Louise H. Pratt, Eros at the Banquet: Reviewing Greek with Plato's Symposium. Oklahoma Series in Classical Culture, 40. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2011. Pp. xxiii, 407. ISBN 9780806141428. $29.95 (pb).

Reviewed by Derek Smith Keyser, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (dereksh@email.unc.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

As one of the most well-known and beloved dialogues of Plato, the Symposium is an enticing selection for teachers of intermediate language courses. Unfortunately, it is generally not considered to be an ideal text for third- semester students: its length (roughly twice that of the Apology), its complexity in both language and thought, and its wealth of cultural details requiring explanation seem to make it more fitting for upper-level classes than for students first dipping their toes into the sea of Greek literature. There are several excellent commentaries on the dialogue, including the Bryn Mawr edition by Rose and the Cambridge edition by Dover,¹ but these either refrain from commenting on the intellectual and cultural material within the dialogue (Bryn Mawr) or lack the meticulous grammatical and syntactical explanations that intermediate students often need (Cambridge). Louise Pratt's Eros at the Banquet successfully addresses both these concerns in a lucidly written, thoroughly researched, and engaging edition of the dialogue. Teachers should be aware, however, that the first five readings of the book contain a moderately altered Greek text that has been simplified for intermediate readers; I discuss the nature of these alterations below.

Like other commentaries in the Oklahoma Series in Classical Culture, Pratt's edition provides students and teachers with almost everything they will need to study the Symposium, including text, running commentary below each passage, and glossary in the back. The opening sections contain: an outline of the book's format and helpful suggestions on using it in the classroom; a key for grammatical abbreviations found in the commentary; and a brief but detailed introduction divided into several topics relevant to the dialogue, including religion, history, sexuality, and literary themes. Students will appreciate the clear and succinct writing in these sections, and teachers will find many helpful references to primary and secondary sources at the end of each discussion. Pratt's three-page bibliography is not meant to be exhaustive, but she consistently cites reliable sources that are appropriate for intermediate-level classes. For example, rather than overwhelm readers with a comprehensive list of scholarship on Diotima's speech, Pratt directs them to the sound, though cautious, analysis found in Allen's The Dialogues of Plato.²

The text itself is divided into eleven groups of readings based on the structure of the dialogue. Each group, in turn, contains a number of distinct sections, ranging in length from 20-60 lines of Greek (the sections grow as the book continues). The first five groups (from the beginning of the dialogue until the end of Eryximachus's speech) contain an altered version of the text simplified for intermediate students. Although many teachers (including myself) are not fond of altered Greek in intermediate texts, I believe that in this case the rewards outweigh the liabilities. The changes are relatively minor, generally limited to excising difficult, often extraneous material and converting indirect speech to direct speech. Otherwise, Pratt keeps very close to the vocabulary and syntax of Plato. There are only a few instances where I would direct students to the original text, including the end of Pausanias' speech (his praise of Athenian customs from 183e6-185c3, which Pratt omits) and Aristodemus' acceptance of Socrates' invitation at 174b2 (Pratt inserts deliberative subjunctives into her text to show hesitation on Aristodemus' part, though her comment for the line rightly notes the "alacrity" of Aristodemus in the original text). From the sixth group to the end, however, Pratt provides the unaltered Oxford Classical Text of Burnet (1901) with a few emendations based on other editions. Pratt uses her own numbering system for the line numbers throughout the book, though in the first five groupings she identifies the Stephanus pagination on which each section is based; thereafter the Stephanus pages and sections are written beside her own line numbers.

Each group of readings and most individual sections begin with an introduction of relevant themes and contextual details. As with the general introduction, these discussions contain clear and engaging analysis, as well as citations of important primary and secondary sources. Each section opens with a suggested review of grammar pertaining to the section and a vocabulary list ranging from three to thirty words (as the passages increase in length, so the vocabulary lists begin to shrink).

The strongest feature of this edition is Pratt's meticulous attention to grammar and syntax in her comments. Her explanations of tricky constructions are accessible for students at this level (her comment at 5A18-21 – "...it looks more complicated than it really is" – reflects the voice of a seasoned and sympathetic teacher addressing her class). She not only identifies important grammatical constructions but also discusses their rhetorical significance (her discussion of an objective vs. partitive genitive at 9A.13/201e5 raises an interesting question concerning Diotima's argument). I was particularly impressed with comments containing prompting questions (asking students to identify genitive absolutes, contrafactual conditions, etc.), though I wish these were more frequent. Earlier sections occasionally provide too much hand holding for students (e.g., three purpose clauses are explicitly identified in section 2A). As the book progresses, however, the explicitness of the comments fits the expected progress of the students. I noted only a few examples where I disagreed with Pratt's analysis (her translation of -τός verbal adjectives as -τέος ones at 7C.11-12/197d5-6; her contention that the μή, rather than the οὐ, is redundant in the construction πάνυ ἀνόητον...μὴ οὐ...χαρίζεσθαι at 10F.10/218c9;³ her odd assertion at 9G.1/207c8 that ἐκείνου = τοῦ γεννησέως, which I assume is a typo).⁴ Pratt frequently cites her own grammar text, Essentials of Greek Grammar. Though I could follow most of her identifications without this reference, I would highly recommend that teachers purchase it as an accompanying text.

The feature of the book I found most troubling was its handling of vocabulary, though my feelings are based primarily on an ideological difference rather than on any obvious deficiency. I typically use Bryn Mawr Commentaries in my classes on the grounds that it is a worthwhile exercise for students to look up words in the dictionary. This often leads to student frustration (especially when they confront longer entries such as χράομαι), but it often leads to fruitful discussions of word meaning and development in the classroom. Pratt employs a system of introducing key words at the beginning of each section, glossing other words in the comments below, and placing an asterisk beside those glossed terms that are important outside of the Symposium; the glossary includes all these terms as well as those not identified in the sections themselves. This will no doubt save students time and allow them to develop a large vocabulary, and for the most part Pratt provides concise definitions that are representative of Greek prose usage. Occasionally, however, her specificity clouds the full scope of the word (e.g., at 6D.31/193b6 she defines ὑπολαμβάνω as "undercut, diminish" without noting it can mean "to interrupt"; at the beginning of 9I she provides only the demonstrative sense of ἔνθα without mentioning its relative use; at 10A.6/212d1 she provides the definition of the masculine substantive ὁ ἐπιτήδειος as "intimate friend" without discussing the wider meaning of the adjective). This specificity will not hurt students trying to understand the Symposium, but in the future they will likely have to relearn such words with fuller attention to their different shades of meaning.

The final portion of the book contains review exercises keyed to the sections in the first six readings, helpful appendices on the dialogue's key figures, relevant dates, and even seating arrangement of the Symposium's guests, and a glossary. The review exercises are mostly short translation pieces focusing on particular grammatical concepts (indirect statement, uses of ὡς, etc.) that appear in the corresponding section, but there are also some verb drills and identification exercises. Pratt includes a nice selection of relevant "challenge passages" (i.e., quoted – and sometimes adapted – passages from Greek literature) for ambitious classes. Teachers will have fun showing students some of Agathon's poetry as well as amusing bits on excessive drinking.

It would be an impossible task to cover the entirety of Eros at the Banquet – text, review exercises, and all – in one third-semester course, as Pratt herself admits in her opening suggestions for using the book. But she has provided instructors with a wealth of material from which they can construct an engaging course designed to fit their interests and their students' needs. The commentary succeeds in providing students with clear and generous guidance for understanding Greek language, literature, and thought.

Notes:

1.   Rose, G. R. 1985. Plato's Symposium. 2^nd ed. Bryn Mawr; Dover, K. J. 1980. Plato: Symposium. Cambridge.
2.   Allen, R. E. 1991. The Dialogues of Plato, Vol. 2: The Symposium. New Haven and London.
3.   Cf. Smyth 2746, who cites this passage of the Symposium. Pratt cites a larger section of Smyth (2739-49) without noting the distinction.
4.   I agree with Dover (1980) ad loc. that the pronoun refers generally to earlier comments about desire at 206e4 (the desire to give birth in presence of beautiful) and 207a3-4 (the longing for immortality).

2012.01.40

2012-01-24T18:59:00.001-05:00

Eugenio Amato, Xenophontis imitator fidelissimus: studi su tradizione e fortuna erudite di Dione Crisostomo tra XVI e XIX secolo. Hellenica, 40. Alessandria: Edizioni dell'Orso, 2011. Pp. viii, 235. ISBN 9788862742979. €20.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Thierry Grandjean, UMR 7044 / Université de Haute-Alsace, Mulhouse (thierry.grandjean@laposte.net)

Version at BMCR home site

L'ouvrage d'E. Amato, consacré à la tradition et à la fortune des discours de Dion Chrysostome dans les milieux érudits de la Renaissance à la fin du XIXe siècle, explore des chemins ignorés des chercheurs modernes. Fondé sur une riche documentation en grande partie inédite, il renouvelle en profondeur notre connaissance des œuvres du sophiste et philosophe de Pruse. Selon une perspective chronologique, les sept chapitres de cette vaste enquête philologique conduisent le lecteur de l'editio princeps de 1550 à l'édition savante de Hans von Arnim,¹ qui sert de référence pour les citations.

L'introduction formant le premier chapitre présente l'objet du livre, le status quaestionis et quelques perspectives nouvelles pour la recherche dionéenne. Chargé de rédiger l'introduction générale pour l'édition des œuvres complètes de Dion Chrysostome dans la C.U.F., Amato s'est rendu compte que d'importants travaux philologiques datant du XVIe au XIXe siècle avaient échappé à l'attention des spécialistes contemporains. Etant donné l'ampleur de l'enquête, la découverte de plusieurs inédits et la richesse des matériaux, il était nécessaire de publier à part les résultats de cette recherche. La citation qui donne son nom à l'ouvrage, Xenophontis imitator fidelissimus, est un judicieux emprunt à un opuscule, jusqu'alors inédit, de L. C. Valckenaer sur Dion Chrysostome, où le philologue néerlandais recense et analyse les passages de Dion imitant Xénophon. Ensuite, Amato présente l'ensemble de la documentation inédite qu'il a découverte, mais aussi de nouvelles pistes pour mieux établir le texte dionéen. La prise en compte de l'histoire érudite des œuvres de Dion s'impose d'autant plus que le texte a été médiocrement conservé, comme le prouvent les trois familles de manuscrits du stemma; en outre, on ne possède qu'un seul papyrus antique des œuvres de Dion.² Ainsi on doit beaucoup compter sur la tradition indirecte et sur la contribution des érudits, ce qui justifie l'importance du présent livre.

Dans le chapitre II, Amato démontre d'une manière irréfutable que l'editio princeps des œuvres complètes de Dion n'est pas celle de Dionysius Paravisinus à Milan en 1476, mais celle de Federico Torresani à Venise en 1550. En tenant compte des observations de Cataldi Palau sur la typographie, de la chronologie déduite par l'examen de l'exemplaire dionéen que possédait Pierre Duchâtel, mais aussi du recueil bibliographique (Elenchus) de Conrad Lycosthenes et d'une lettre de Roger Ascham à John Cheke, l'auteur parvient à établir avec certitude l'année 1550 pour l'édition de Torresani,³ corrigeant ainsi la date de 1551 que Gessner avait déduite à tort, et que Fabricius avait reprise sans la modifier.

Le chapitre III est consacré à la version latine d'Arnaud de Ferron, retrouvée par Amato, et à un codex, aujourd'hui perdu, de Jean de Pins. Cette traduction latine de cinq discours dionéens (orr. 75-76 et 63-65) a été établie par Arnaud de Ferron, érudit bordelais, et publiée en 1557. Elle était jusqu'alors considérée comme disparue, mais l'auteur en a découvert une copie à Limoges et a prouvé de façon irréfutable que, pour traduire ces discours, Ferron a collationné un manuscrit dionéen pour nous disparu.

Le chapitre IV analyse la pratique des livres de classe (aussi appelés feuilles classiques) en France et en Allemagne au XVIe et au XVIIe siècle. Amato a identifié un exemplaire, totalement méconnu par les spécialistes, du discours 30 (Charidèmos), édité à Paris en 1626, manifestement un support pédagogique. Cet exemplaire revêt une grande importance pour l'histoire de la fortune des écrits dionéens à l'Université, d'autant qu'Amato a retrouvé deux autres livres de classe édités à Paris, l'un, en 1582, contenant le discours 74 et le second, en 1553, les discours 75-76 et 63-65. En Allemagne aussi, plusieurs livres de classe sont parus sans retenir l'attention des spécialistes: Johann Potinius publie le texte grec des discours 70-71, ainsi que le texte grec avec traduction latine des discours 70-71, 69, 16 et 18: les variantes textuelles prouvent que Potinius a révisé le texte grec et doivent figurer désormais dans l'apparat critique de toute nouvelle édition dionéenne. Quant à Johannes Caselius, il a édité les discours 1-5 et 18, en corrigeant lui aussi le texte grec. Enfin, un autre livre de classe, contenant les discours 75-76, a été édité par Johann Havichorst (1558), avec une traduction latine originale.

Le chapitre V est centré sur la fortune érudite du Prusien à l'école hollandaise de Hemsterhuis (« Schola Hemsterhusiana ») au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle. Tandis que l'édition parisienne de Fédéric Morel (1604) s'imposa comme le texte de référence pendant environ deux siècles, plusieurs autres publications prévues n'ont pas abouti : témoin celle qu'avait projetée William Piers dès 1706: en menant des recherches dans le cercle de Piers, on peut espérer des découvertes fructueuses. De même, à Leyde, Tiberius Hemsterhuis et son école, notamment ses deux fameux élèves, L.C Valckenaer et David Ruhnken, s'intéressaient aux textes dionéens, sans réussir à les publier. Néanmoins, ils ont favorisé la recherche à Leyde, où paraît la première vraie édition critique d'un discours dionéen (celle de Jacob Geel en 1840). A Amsterdam, Jacques Philippe D'Orville a annoté et corrigé le texte dionéen de l'édition Morel (vers 1730): Amato est le premier à exploiter ses notes et à montrer que ses corrections améliorent l'établissement du texte des discours 5, 7, 31, 32, 79. L'auteur insiste surtout sur la triade hollandaise Hemsterhuis, Valckenaer et Ruhnken : tous trois ont comparé la prose dionéenne avec la prose attique, surtout celle de Xénophon, d'où la formule de Valckenaer: « Dion Xenophontis imitator fidelissimus ». Amato montre l'importance des corrections apportées par Valckenaer dans plusieurs notes de ses ouvrages publiés. Hemsterhuis et Ruhnken ont annoté in margine leurs exemplaires de l'édition Morel: celles de Hemsterhuis sont exploitées depuis longtemps, mais pas celles de Ruhnken, qui méritent une étude. Quant à Valckenaer, il a également annoté l'édition Morel et rédigé tout un fascicule de conjectures dionéennes, intitulé In Dionem Chrysostomum, encore inédit et inexploité. Ce fascicule revêt une importance exceptionnelle : Valckenaer y discute environ 150 passages dionéens, avec une parfaite connaissance du corpus complet et de l'usus scribendi. Il indique les incohérences textuelles, les dissographoumena (doubles rédactions ajoutées par un éditeur anonyme). Soulignant les qualités stylistiques du texte dionéen, Valckenaer fournit une liste de passages où Dion aurait imité Xénophon. Ces animaduersiones inédites (de 1777 environ), offrent d'excellentes conjectures : Amato les a éditées en annexe.

Le chapitre VI concerne les commentaires inédits d'Adolf Emperius : avant lui, Geel, pour son édition critique du Discours olympique (1840), exploita habilement sept manuscrits. Cet ouvrage suscita des critiques de Robert Unger visant Geel et Emperius, qui répondirent à leur détracteur: de leurs échanges, il reste de précieuses discussions sur plusieurs centaines de passages dionéens. Ensuite, Emperius collationna jusqu'à quarante codices pour son édition des œuvres complètes de Dion (1844). Il distingua les manuscrits, d'après l'importance de leurs variantes, en trois classes: les meliores (VMCP), les medii (dont le B) et les deteriores (dont UADET). A sa mort, Emperius laissa inédit un ample manuscrit, qu'Amato est le premier à exploiter. Ce document autographe est composé de 26 fascicules (678 folios), répartis dans cinq dossiers ainsi conçus: le commentaire des discours 1-36, 43, 47 ; une liste d'addenda et de corrigenda à la première édition dionéenne (1844); des extraits d'auteurs variés sur la géographie, les coutumes des populations gètes et thraces; enfin deux dissertationes sur la vie et sur les écrits de Dion. Amato présente ensuite la structure du commentaire sur les discours, précédé à chaque fois d'une notice sur la datation et sur le sujet (argumentum), puis le plan du discours. Dans le commentaire lui-même, Emperius formule trois types de remarques: des éclaircissements sur les realia; des explications des choix textuels adoptés ; la mention d'errata. Ce commentaire peut rendre les plus grands services pour l'établissement et l'interprétation du texte dionéen. Ensuite, Amato transcrit intégralement et commente les dissertationes d'Emperius sur la vie et les écrits de Dion.

Enfin, le chapitre VII analyse quelques lettres inédites rédigées par des érudits de la fin du XIXe siècle. Amato a retrouvé six lettres de Wilamowitz-Moellendorff à Hans von Arnim, qui édita les œuvres complètes de Dion (1893- 1896): ces lettres inédites, datant des années 1893-1895 et portant sur le texte dionéen qui devait être édité dans le second volume (1896), doivent retenir l'attention car von Arnim n'a pas eu le temps de tenir compte de toutes les améliorations suggérées par son maître. En outre, la correspondance inédite entre von Arnim et Franz Cumont intéresse les spécialistes de Dion, parce que, dans les années 1893-1896, les érudits échangent leurs avis sur le mythe du Discours borysthénitique, sur la collation de manuscrits et sur des variantes du même discours 36.

En appendice, l'auteur ajoute une « Bibliographie dionéenne » centrée sur la critique textuelle et l'histoire érudite de Dion: sont mentionnés les éditions complètes et partielles, les traductions complètes et partielles, les études sur la tradition manuscrite et sur la formation du corpus, la recension de notes de critiques textuelles, les travaux sur la tradition indirecte, la fortune et la réception.

Suivent deux index fort utiles, établis par Gianluca Ventrella, sur les passages dionéens cités et sur les noms d'auteurs de la Renaissance à nos jours.

Enfin, une série de 17 photographies permet d'apprécier la richesse de plusieurs documents inédits étudiés dans l'ouvrage.

Ainsi cet ouvrage fondamental analyse la plus vaste collection de documents philologiques jamais réunis pour une édition savante des œuvres de Dion. L'argumentation, toujours convaincante, s'appuie sur une parfaite connaissance de l'ecdotique. Les travaux d'Amato apportent tellement aux études dionéennes qu'il conviendrait de réévaluer les conclusions de S. Swain sur la réception de Dion.⁴ Les bibliographies fournies par Desideri et Harris,⁵ doivent désormais être complétées par celle d'Amato.

Toutefois, dans la « bibliografia dionea », il convient de rectifier quelques titres : la dissertation de Baguet, mentionnée trois fois (p. 132, 145 et 178), s'intitule en fait Specimen literarium inaugurale, exhibens Dionis Chrysostomi orat. VIII animaduersionibus illustratam. L'important fascicule de Valckenaer, intitulé In Dionem Chrysostomum, forme plus précisément une section d'un ouvrage plus étendu, recensé dans les Codices manuscripti III de la Bibliothèque universitaire de Leyde (p. 118) sous le titre Observationes in uarios scriptores Graecos.

Etant donné l'importance du modèle de Xénophon pour Dion, qui justifie pleinement le titre de son livre, l'auteur aurait pu exploiter d'autres ouvrages de la même période mettant en parallèle ces deux écrivains, notamment la Paravolê Diônos tou Khrysostomou pros Platôna, Xenophônta, Dêmosthenê kai Aiskhinên de Dionysios Pylarinos, Galazion, 1887.

Amato a su montrer le rayonnement européen de la fortune érudite de Dion, en distinguant plusieurs foyers (Venise, Paris, Rostock). Mais concernant le Rhin Supérieur, il était possible d'approfondir la recherche sur Potinius et Andreas Mylius. En particulier, les nombreuses rééditions du discours 53 (Sur Homère), qui ont tellement contribué à faire connaître Dion dans l'Europe humaniste, méritaient un plus ample développement: sur la traduction latine de ce discours, on lira avec profit l'épître dédicatoire de Conrad Gessner à Jérôme Frikker (1544).⁶ A propos de Bartholomaeus Amantius, éditeur et traducteur des discours 62 et 66, auquel nous consacrons un article (à paraître), nous avons consulté le manuscrit Stutgard. hist. qu. lat. 60 pour vérifier le texte de sa traduction latine des discours dionéens Sur la Royauté (mentionnée p. 181, note 9): en fait, comme le conjecturait De Nicola, cette traduction n'est pas originale.

Au demeurant, fondée sur une documentation beaucoup plus riche et inédite, l'édition d'Amato s'annonce déjà comme une somme d'une exceptionnelle qualité et à nulle autre pareille.

Notes:

1.   Hans von Arnim, Dionis Prusaensis quem uocant Chrysostomum quae exstant omnia, Berlin, 1893-1896.
2.   Il s'agit du PBrLibr inv. 2823.
3.   B.F. Harris, « Dio of Prusa: A Survey of Recent Work », ANRW.II.33.5, 3854, proposait déjà l'année 1550, sans la démontrer.
4.   S. Swain, « Reception and Interpretation », in: Swain, Dio Chrysostom, Oxford, 2000, 13-50.
5.   P. Desideri, Dione di Prusa, Messina-Firenze, 1978; Harris, cf. n.3.
6.   Lettre éditée dans Heraclidis Pontici […] Allegoriae in Homeri fabulas, Basileae, 1544.

2012.01.39

2012-01-24T18:41:00.001-05:00

Roy K. Gibson, Ruth Morello (ed.), Pliny the Elder: Themes and Contexts. Mnemosyne supplements. Monographs on Greek and Roman Language and Literature, 329. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011. Pp. xiv, 248. ISBN 9789004202344. $141.00.

Reviewed by Harry Hine, University of St Andrews (hmh@st-andrews.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

This volume of papers grew out of a conference on the Elder Pliny held at the University of Manchester in 2006. The first few papers are on different aspects of Pliny and imperialism. Rhiannon Ash, 'Pliny the Elder's attitude to warfare' (1-19), looks at the various ways in which warfare features in the Natural History: events are regularly dated during a specific war; warfare, and the spare time that goes with army life, enable military men to be 'cutting-edge researchers' (7), discovering new information, and bringing their discoveries back to Rome; Pliny also acknowledges the costs of war; yet war is not just a human aberration, for he sees it in the physical and animal worlds; ultimately the Pax Romana has been achieved by war, and can only be maintained by military vigilance.

Andrew Fear, 'The Roman's burden' (21-34), asks what light Pliny can shed on the motivations of Roman imperialism. He argues against post-colonial approaches that hold that 'at best, Rome was indifferent to the nature of her subjects' lives and that often Roman rule was actively harmful to provincials and knowingly so' (22). Pliny, by contrast, sees the empire as bringing civilisation and humanitas to the provinces (in HN 27.2-3 the Romans, by bringing peace, are a gift of the gods to mankind). Pliny has a real horror of barbarism, which is partly based on his military experience: his negative view of the primitive living conditions of the Chauci (HN 16.3- 4) contrasts tellingly with Tacitus's description of them as populus inter Germanos nobilissimus (Germ. 35). Fear argues that, since Pliny's comments about empire are all made in passing, they are likely to be representative of his time, and they cohere with evidence that the Flavians were concerned for the interests of the provincials.

Eugenia Lao, 'Luxury and the creation of a good consumer' (35-56), looks first at the metaphorical economy of knowledge and intellectual activity in the Natural History: knowledge is a commodity, Pliny's work is a publicly available storehouse full of it, and he acknowledges the sources of his information; by contrast he criticises those who hoard knowledge for themselves, or steal ideas without acknowledgement, and he laments the decline in intellectual trade. The second part of the paper looks at the information Pliny provides for producers and consumers of material goods and commodities, information that enables purchasers to be wiser and more discerning; but the risk for Pliny is that in encouraging connoisseurship he also encourages the love of excessive luxury that he deplores.

The next two contributions take different approaches to the mirabilia that are so prominent in the Natural History. Valérie Naas, 'Imperialism, mirabilia and knowledge: some paradoxes in the Naturalis Historia (57-70), draws attention to some of the paradoxes in Pliny's handling of mirabilia. Traditionally marvels were associated with the periphery of the known world, and the expansion of the Roman empire enables the discovery of new marvels; but these marvels are often brought back to Rome to be displayed there, and as a consequence Rome itself has become the greatest marvel (HN 36.101). Sometimes Pliny wants to give a rational explanation for marvels, sometimes he is content to let them remain beyond the reach of explanation. The concentration on marvels, Naas argues, risked contributing to the decline in scientific progress, and in Pliny's view the empire itself endangers the advance of knowledge, for both peace and loss of freedom are obstacles to its progress (but Naas acknowledges that the theme of loss of freedom leaves few traces in the Natural History).

Mary Beagon, 'The curious eye of the Elder Pliny' (71-88), also discusses Pliny's use of mirabilia, and arrives at a more positive evaluation than Naas. She contrasts Pliny with Seneca, who is constantly trying to draw the reader's attention from the terrestrial to the celestial, and from what is visible to the eyes to what is discerned with the mind; whereas Pliny places a higher value on the terrestrial. Whereas Naas thinks that understanding removes the need for wonder, and that the pursuit of marvels is a factor in the decline of scientific investigation, Beagon, while acknowledging that explanation can destroy wonder, argues that for Pliny new wonders are constantly appearing with changes in the environment, and 'wonder and explanation can knit together in a never-ending circle of intellectual curiosity, rather than presenting the inquirer with a simple and finite one-way journey from wonder to explanation' (86).

Ernesto Paparazzo, 'Philosophy and science in the Elder Pliny's Naturalis Historia' (89-111), argues that Pliny is acquainted with Stoic ideas about the elements, nature, mixture, and other aspects of physics, and that he operates with the Posidonian conception of the clear demarcation between philosophy and science, with science in an ancillary role. Paparazzo offers attractive explanations of a number of puzzling passages, and shows that some of the much-repeated arguments that Pliny is a low-grade popular scientist, or that his ethical drive is inconsistent with a scientific approach, are founded on modern notions rather than the Stoic notions with which Pliny operated. Finally he suggests that Pliny's Stoicism is most likely mediated via Antiochus and Varro. Paparazzo acknowledges that Pliny had only a general acquaintance with Stoicism ('I am not maintaining that he was an adept, scholarly competent follower of Stoicism' (106)), which maybe disarms objections that some things in Pliny are incompatible with Stoicism. But occasionally he seems to be straining too hard to find a Stoic basis for Pliny's utterances: for instance, the stark contrast between ratio and uoluntas (sc. numinum) at HN 37.60 (numinum profecto talis inuentio est et hoc munus omne, nec quaerenda ratio in ulla parte naturae, sed uoluntas) seems scarcely compatible with Stoicism; for SVF 2.933, which Paparazzo quotes (100), says that the divine will is a series of causes (compare Seneca Ep. 65.4, quoted on p. 101).

Aude Doody, 'The science and aesthetics of names in the Natural History' (113-29), surveys the functions of names in Pliny, and the various problems they could pose. The needs of the specialist who wished to be able to identify things in the real world were rather different from those of the generalist looking for a pleasurable read, and it was a problem for Pliny himself to identify all the plants, for instance, whose names he gives: similar names could be confused, the same species could have more than one name or no name, the same name was sometimes used for more than one species, and so on. On a literary level, the series of names can give structure to the exposition (things with similar sorts of names could be grouped together), and there are patriotic and aesthetic issues if too many Greek or barbarian names clutter up the text. Pliny has to negotiate a way between the potential of names either to impress or to bore the reader.

The next three papers look closely at particular passages of the Natural History. Cynthia Damon, 'Pliny on Apion' (131-45), is principally concerned with a textual problem in a passage of the preface concerning Apion the grammaticus. He was a notorious self-publicist, given to frivolous and even fraudulent displays of learning, so it is not surprising that he, with his bold claim to confer immortality on his dedicatees, appears in the preface (25) as a foil to Pliny; but what is surprising is that he appears in the context of Pliny's discussion of the exotic titles that earlier writers have given to their works, but in Apion's case the transmitted text contains no title. Editors have seemingly been content with the incoherence – deeming Pliny to be a poor writer - but Damon argues persuasively that the text must be corrupt, and that aliqua conceals the missing title (... immortalitate donari a se scripsit ad quos aliqua componebat). Her tentative suggestion is Ἀλήθεια, which she offers as a shortened version of something such as 'True History', a suitably pretentious title; though she readily acknowledges that no solution can be certain.

Ruth Morello, 'Pliny and the encyclopaedic addressee' (147-65), takes a close look at the preface of the Natural History, where the frivolous tone of the opening, with its Catullan (mis)quotation, is surprising given that the preface is addressed to Titus and introduces a work that is scarcely frivolous. Morello's argument is that the preface should 'be read as a sophisticated exercise in defining a problematic addressee and then turning him into the reader Pliny wants him to be' (151); as the preface continues, Titus is presented as 'a totalising polymath' (159), prima facie well suited to be recipient of the Natural History, but at the same time he is a connoisseur of Catullan poetry, so not certain to be enamoured of this heavyweight encyclopaedic work, whose real audience is farmers and artisans. But there is a novel twist at the end: Pliny has provided an index, and neither Titus nor anyone else is expected to read the work all through. 'Pliny's only real nugae are his playful prefatory thoughts, but even in them he means business' (165).

Clemence Schultze, 'Encyclopaedic exemplarity in Pliny the Elder' (167-86), suggests that the historical exempla in Pliny provide him with a means of engaging with the history of humankind, even though this is not a formal part of his natural history. She examines in detail two exempla, the story of Chresimus (HN 18.41-3), and L. Licinius Crassus and his trees (HN 17.1-6), and argues that they show how Pliny's exempla require attentive reading, and it is sometimes hard to tell whether they exemplify something good or bad. (Schultze doubts the authenticity of the story of Chresimus, because it comes from the annalist Piso Frugi, and 'the terms chresimos and frugi are linked by Cicero (Tusc. 3.16-17) as possible translations of each other' (175), which she finds too good to be true. But the argument seems tenuous; what Cicero says of frugalitas is: angustius apud Graecos ualet, qui frugi hominesχρησίμουςappellant, id est, tantum modo utiles; which is not really saying that the Greek word is a possible translation of the Latin.)

The last two papers deal with early reception. Roy Gibson, 'Elder and better: the Naturalis Historia and the Letters of the Younger Pliny' (187-205), argues first that the younger Pliny knew his uncle's work well and expected his readers to know it too. The argument that the Younger's treatment of Catullus in Ep. 1.16.3-6 echoes and responds to the Elder's remarks on Catullus in his preface is persuasive, but Gibson seems to acknowledge that some of the other claimed allusions are more recherché. The second half of the paper argues that in Ep. 3.5, listing the Elder's writings, Pliny deliberately follows the order of composition rather than publication, so that the list culminates with the Natural History rather than the posthumously published history, even though the Elder had treated the latter as the more important work (Pref. 18-20); this ordering, together with the Vesuvius letter 6.16, which casts the Elder as dying in the cause of science, has served to boost the reputation of the Natural History as the Elder's crowning achievement.

Finally, Michael Reeve, 'The Vita Plinii' (207-22), traces the fortunes of the brief life of Pliny, generally thought to be Suetonian, in the manuscripts and early printed editions of Pliny, and produces a fresh edition and translation of the text. Reeve shows that the attribution to Suetonius is not securely transmitted in the manuscripts, but he finds a couple of tell-tale Suetonian fingerprints in the language of the life.

These papers, as varied in subject matter and approach as the Natural History itself, together form a valuable addition to the ever-growing bibliography on Pliny. There is a General Index and Index of Passages at the end.

2012.01.38

2012-01-23T21:53:00.001-05:00

Kyle Harper, Slavery in the Late Roman World, AD 275-425. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Pp. xiv, 611. ISBN 9780521198615. $140.00.

Reviewed by Juan P. Lewis, The University of Edinburgh (juanplewis@googlemail.com)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

This study of Roman slavery spans the period roughly from Diocletian until the end of the reign of Honorius. Nonetheless, it would be of great interest to both the specialist on Roman slavery in the classical period and the early medievalist. The central thesis of the book is that during the long fourth century, the Roman Empire was still a slave society. The last three decades of research have undermined the theory that slavery decayed and was replaced by other forms of unfree labour after the third-century crisis. However, no alternative explanatory model has been proposed. Harper aims to construct that model "from the ground up" (p. 21). His main argument is that slavery was an integral component of the Roman imperial system, an exceptionally complex and integrated world-economy not seen anywhere else in pre-modern times.¹ Harper rejects the idea of transition to serfdom and feudalism. Instead, he replaces it with a simpler model in which the key variables are supply and (most importantly) demand. Accordingly, when the empire collapsed in the west, both demand for slaves and the supply chain that provided them were disrupted. Slavery then gradually vanished and "became less prominent in precisely the two sectors that made Roman slavery exceptional" (p. 66), namely the lower echelons of the elite and agriculture. Between the fifth and seventh century, the slave society of the late unified empire was replaced by more primitive and less integrated independent kingdoms where slavery persisted, but in which slavery no longer held the central position in the economy, culture, and law that it had in the past.

The book is divided into three parts of four chapters each. Part I deals with the economic organization of slavery. Its aim is to challenge the prevailing narrative of conquest and transition that has cemented the idea that late Antiquity was a time of crisis plagued by the contradictions of a declining slave mode of production. Drawing upon Scheidel's "bottom-up" approach, Harper identifies the social groups that owned slaves and calculates a "plausible range of slaves an owner could have owned" (p. 39). He subsequently discusses the mechanisms that kept the slave supply constant during the whole period, such as breeding, self-sale, child exposure, abduction, and slave imports. He digs up the literary record to show how important slave labour still was in the household, the basic economic unit in ancient society. The discussion centres on not only menial domestic tasks performed by unskilled slaves, but also administrative jobs and business activities in which literate slaves played a major part and textile production in which female slave labour was pervasive. Finally, he closes with a long discussion of the conditions for and advantages of using slave labour in agriculture in both the eastern and the western part of the empire. He rejects the idea of a dominant mode of production and instead focuses on the interaction of a series of variables such as the differentiated costs of free and slave labour, the role of legal institutions, the variegated nature of ancient agriculture, and the dynamics of estate management.

Part II is directed towards the social facets of slavery. The target narrative is the amelioration thesis, which claims that Christianity improved master-slave relations. Instead, Harper shows that the Church accommodated to the slave system and "Christian and Roman ideologies became enmeshed" (p. 212). First discussed are masters' strategies to secure their slaves' submission by the combination of the permanent threat of violence and incentives such as promotion, the granting of a peculium (a fund slaves controlled independently), and manumission. Then, the focus turns towards the active role played by slaves in their everyday experience of exploitation. Individual reactions such as shirking and disruption of work, theft, physical violence against masters, and flight are profusely attested in late antique sources of all types. More difficult to unearth is the family life of slaves, which is seen by Harper as "a way to repudiate the dehumanizing force of slavery" (p. 265). Slave unions, however, were fragile and at the total mercy of masters during the whole period. Harper successfully dispels the view that Christianity promoted a more stable family life among slaves, and instead shows how little the Church innovated in that respect. The discussion of slave responses to exploitation closes with a survey of the power dynamics created by the existence of both horizontal and vertical loyalties within the slave community and how the segmentation of slave labour prevented the consolidation of class solidarity between slaves. Another central theme of Part II is the sexual exploitation of dishonoured women, i.e. slaves and prostitutes, which was intrinsic to the organization of Roman slavery. The sexual freedom enjoyed by young men shaped Roman gender relationships and secured the preservation of free women's purity and honour. Traditional Roman sexual mores were still prevalent in the fourth century, but they gradually started to collude with Christian insistence on sexual exclusivity and monogamy. The last chapter of Part II is dedicated to the experience of mastery, both for the pater and the mater familias.

Part III focuses on the legal fabric of status and slavery. Its aim is to undermine the "merger" of the lower classes narrative, which insinuates that slaves and the free poor became almost undistinguishable after the third century AD. Harper also disputes that the late antique emperors' feverish legislative work on status reflects the impending collapse of the slave system. Apart from a series of inscriptions from Leukopetra, which attest the new geographical reach Roman private law acquired after AD 212, the bulk of the discussion deals with imperial rescripts on status, adultery laws and manumission. Diocletian's numerous legal pronouncements on slave status are reinterpreted as "the apogee of legal classicism" (p. 389) and as part of a process of consolidation of the Roman state and slave system. Constantine's laws sanctioning the enslavement of free-born foundlings are regarded as a pragmatic innovation, an attempt to solve the contradictions created by the expansion of Roman citizenship and the slave system's need to maintain the slave supply with internal sources. Study of imperial constitutions on marriage, adultery and inheritance shows how late Roman laws "reflect old rather than new sexual values" (p. 430). The analysis of the laws of manumission and the new powers granted to the Church to free slaves close the discussion and show that Christianity failed to serve as an effective liberating force.

The conclusion is in fact a postscript. It briefly summarises the changing socioeconomic conditions of the fifth and sixth centuries that precipitated the gradual retraction and eventual demise of the slave system, both in the west and the east. Two appendices follow. One discusses the word oiketes, which Harper argues meant "nothing other than slaves" (p. 516). The other gives a list of passages from the Codex Hermogenianus that mention slaves.

Nothing illustrates better how necessary this book was than the secondary literature on ancient slavery Harper mostly draws upon and debates with. For the most part, they are either specialists on the classical period of Roman slavery, like Roth or Scheidel, or mediaevalists, like Wickham. It is only when he discusses more specific issues such as the slave body or the technicalities of legal sources that the experts in late Antiquity come to the fore. It is as if fourth- century slavery had been of little interest to scholars. This is not for lack of material. Aided by computer databases, Harper has collected an impressive body of evidence, most of it unknown by the majority of slavery scholars. He makes extensive use of the writings of Church fathers, particularly John Chrysostom and Augustine, pagan authors like Libanius, Egyptian papyri, some key inscriptions, and late antique law compilations. Harper rightly warns the reader about the limits of the extant evidence. Nonetheless, careful examination shows that, despite being impressionistic and insufficient, late antique sources on slavery are as good as, and sometimes even better than, anything that has survived from the high empire, which nobody would hesitate to call a slave society.

When evidence is too fragmentary or lacking, Harper makes good use of models. One example is the parametric model that shows that the demographic structure of the slave population ensured that the system could reproduce itself through breeding (p. 69-74). Another one is when he discusses the dynamics of agricultural slavery and the variables that made the use of slave labour in agriculture desirable. Likewise, when he uses the concept of 'community of honour' to explain varied but interrelated phenomena such as the preservation of free women's respectability through the sexual exploitation of slaves, the role of the pater and the mater familias in the household, and the evolution of adultery and status laws.

Harper moves with ease in the realm of traditional source-based historical research, but he is also a competent social and cultural historian who discusses Roman law with insight and expertise. He is an accomplished translator as well. He manages to render ancient texts into fluid contemporary English whilst capturing the nuances and style of the original (I particularly liked his rendering of adultera meretrix as "slutty prostitute" on p. 310).

I have some minor quibbles. In his zeal to be thorough, Harper sometimes tries to cover too much. I have found some paragraphs that interrupted the flow of the argument without adding much to the main thesis, as when he touches on the idea that the "race-based justification for slavery [of black people] existed already in the late Roman empire" (p. 91). The claim is unsatisfactorily supported and not explored any further, even though it contradicts everything known about the colour-blindness that characterised Roman slavery and Harper's own attestation that the slave trade was supplied with people of every race and origin during the whole period his book covers. Occasionally, he can overdo a point and repeat phrases unnecessarily. There are also some debatable claims, as when he states that "in late Roman art [...] the simple tunic was a clear advertisement of slave status" (p. 334); or his suggestion that slaves were useful in harvest work because of the risk of hiring seasonal labour (p. 137), although Roman agricultural writers like Varro recommended the employment of free peasants during the harvest (RR 1.17). I do not understand how he justified the use of the Babylonian Talmud as a source for the history of Roman slavery either, unless he was doing it for comparative purposes (pp. 264, 266, 287 n. 36, 293, 335). Finally, the organization of the section on slaves' individual responses to exploitation (pp. 252-261) owes much to Bradley's discussion of slave resistance.² I find it somewhat bizarre that Harper did not acknowledge it, as he clearly knows Bradley's work well and quotes him profusely in the rest of the book.

Notwithstanding these minor flaws, Harper makes his case successfully. He has established solid grounds to open a whole new area of research into a subject, late antique slavery, that has been barely studied, if not neglected. He has also built new bridges for interdisciplinary collaboration between experts on two periods that do not usually converse with each other. From now on, there will be no excuse to keep treating fourth-century Roman society as substantially distinct from that of the previous centuries. Slavery in the Late Roman World is certainly poised to become not only the main scholarly introduction to a specific topic, but also a milestone in slavery studies and Roman history in general.

Notes:

1. Maybe with the exception of China, which was not strictly speaking a slave society.
2. Bradley, K. (1994) Slavery and Society at Rome. Cambridge, chapter 6.

2012.01.37

2012-01-23T21:34:00.001-05:00

Dino Piovan, Memoria e oblio della guerra civile: strategie giudiziarie e racconto del passato in Lisia. Studi e testi di storia antica, 19. Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2011. Pp. 356. ISBN 9788846728258. €22.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Thomas Blank, Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz (blankt@uni-mainz.de)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Adapting to the audience belongs to the most crucial prerequisites of successful rhetoric. For the authors of logographic speeches this prerequisite expands towards adapting to the specific speaker as well. Logographic writing, therefore, is confronted with the need to mediate between the speaker's and the audience's diverging individual and collective identities. In this study of Lysias' representation of the Athenian 'civil war' (405-403 BCE), Dino Piovan carefully examines the adaptation of Lysian argumentation to the sensitivities of specific audiences and speakers. How can a litigant assail the outrages and crimes of the 'Thirty', if a considerable part of the judges belong to the profiteers of their regime? How show respect for their position or even argue in their favor if, on the other hand, the majority possibly belongs to the former democratic 'Piraeus party'? Questions like these stand behind Piovan's study, whose most important goal consists in integrating Lysias' rhetorical measures into a context of Athenian civic reconciliation and the generation of a new civic identity in the aftermath of civil war. Working with and constructing 'collective memories', therefore, belongs to the central paradigms of Piovan's approach (pp. 12-13). The answers Piovan formulates in the course of his study and the rhetorical strategies he uncovers in Lysias' speeches are, to be upfront with it, mostly convincing, generally thought-provoking, and of interest not only for the scholar of Lysian rhetoric, but for everyone investigating in the public construction of historical identities.

The book is introduced by a foreword (p. 3), list of abbreviations (pp. 5-8) and introductory remarks on the state of Lysian scholarship and the outline of the study (pp. 9-14). Lysias' orations are analyzed in the four main chapters of the book (pp. 15-304). Single orations are given diverging attention depending on the importance of civil war in their argumentation (cf. pp. 12-14). The first three chapters comprise a single oration each. In Chapters One (Lys. or. XII: Against Eratosthenes, pp. 15-94) and Two (Lys. or. XIII: Against Agoratus, pp. 95-179) Piovan examines speeches written for clients belonging to the former democratic 'Piraeus party', whereas the oration discussed in Chapter Three (Lys. or. XXV: Defence Against a Charge of Subverting Democracy, pp. 181-230) argues in favour of a former supporter of oligarchy. Chapter Four (pp. 231-304) focuses on several speeches that were either written for lawsuits dealing with aspects of the civil war (Lys. or. XXXI: Against Philo, pp. 233-246; Lys. or. XVI: For Mantitheos, pp. 246-252; Lys. or. XXVI: On the Scrutiny of Evandrus, pp. 252-260) or involve arguments referring to these events (Lys. or. XXX: Against Nicomachus, pp. 261-279; Lys. or. XVIII: On the Confiscation of the Property of the Brother of Nicias, pp. 279-286; Lys. or. II: Funeral Oration, pp. 286-304). The most important conclusions of these chapters are recapitulated in the final chapter (pp. 305-312). The book closes with bibliographical references (pp. 313-343), indices (pp. 343-354) and table of content (pp. 355-356). The single studies all follow the same order. In prefatory chapters Piovan addresses scholarly debates about the general character of the respective oration insofar as they are relevant to the analysis. Among these discussions are questions of authenticity, status and legal procedure (e.g. pp. 95-106, where Piovan negates the distinction of ἀπαγωγή κακουργίας and ἀ. φόνου as two different legal cases in Lysias' time), social rank and political position of the persons involved etc. The actual study of civil-war argumentation is placed in the second part of each chapter.

According to Piovan, Lysias constructs a narrative of the civil-war years that is not only simplifying (as would be any rhetorical account of such a complex period), but generally tends to downplay the entanglement of the 'Three Thousand', who had maintained their status as citizens in 404 BCE, while at the same time demonizing the Thirty themselves. This goes hand in hand with a suppression of the role of aristocracy's paragon, Sparta, in ending the civil war (pp. 63-65). This simplistic narrative can be understood as a political effort to reconcile the civil-war factions with each other without disremembering civil war itself (p. 94). At the same time, it can be understood in a more immediate way: as rhetorical concession to the fact that juries in Athenian lawsuits after 403 BCE consisted of members of both these factions. In downplaying the responsibility of the Three Thousand, Lysias offers a narrative that allows them to dissociate from the Thirty and not feel addressed by Lysias' attacks against the oligarchic regime (e.g. pp. 37-42).

Even though this general approach can be seen in any of the orations discussed by Piovan (p. 310), the specific course of argumentation is shown to be very different depending on both the nature of the judicial case and the speaker's personal involvement in one of the factions. In speeches in which Lysias (or his client) accuses his opponent of having taken part in the persecutions under the oligarchy, he insinuates an all-embracing conspiracy driven by the heads of the Thirty. The conspirators are assigned the role of 'scapegoats' (pp. 168-174, 305-307), which implicitly exculpates all other parts of the Athenian civic society and notably the Three Thousand. This 'conspiracy theory' becomes especially obvious in the orations Against Eratosthenes and Against Agoratus. In Against Eratosthenes (Chapter One: pp. 37-94) the leaders of the oligarchy, Theramenes in particular, are blamed not only for their role during their regime, but also for causing the catastrophic defeat of **Aegospotami** (pp. 42- 48), for deliberately prolonging peace negotiations with Sparta, for thus forcing the Athenians to submit to even the harshest peace terms, and for the condemnation of democratic leaders such as Cleophon who opposed these terms (pp. 75-90) – all in order to secure the overthrow of the democracy. Lysias tries to prove the culprit's involvement in this conspiracy by juxtaposing him and the oligarchs (Critias: pp. 48-59, Pheidon: pp. 59-65, Theramenes: pp. 75-90). Compared with the conspirators, even the Three Thousand are depicted as rather democratic in their views (pp. 61-62). Lysias' strategy in Against Agoratus (Chapter Two: pp. 95-179) consists in arguing that the culprit willingly betrayed the names of the members of a democratic counter-conspiracy (pp. 151-163) to the oligarchs. Piovan succeeds in showing how this charge, weak as it is given the forcible detention of Agoratus and his later presence at Phyle, is integrated within a narrative of conspiracy very similar to the story told in Against Eratosthenes (pp. 123-145). Piovan unravels Lysias' reframing of the trial against Cleophon and his supporters as part of the conspiracy by picturing their refusal to accept the Spartan peace terms as an attempt to save democracy (123-134, 154). The culprit's alleged support of this persecution is thus presented as anti-democratic. In Defence Against a Charge of Subverting Democracy (pp. 195-230) Lysias supports a former partisan of the Thirty. Chapter Three (pp. 179-230) explains the way in which the measures Lysias takes to argue the case of his client differ from the speeches mentioned before. The whole period of civil war is treated less as a conflict of combating ideologies, less as struggle for the political regime, but as a period in which the citizen's pursuit of their private interest led to violent hostilities (pp. 195-204, 228). The trials of 405/404 BCE, formerly depicted as part of the oligarchic 'conspiracy', are here said to have been reasonable measures to confront the troubles effected by the litigious activities of 'sycophants' – the 'scapegoats' of this oration (pp. 218-219). The Three Thousand, among whom the defendant is to be counted, are said to have supported the Thirty in these trials, but not in the later outrages (pp. 209-219). By claiming there had been a shift of allegiance among the Three-Thousand during the year 404, Piovan argues, the speaker tries to prove that oligarchy had never been the Three-Thousand's goal in supporting the Thirty (pp. 205-208, 215-217). Less persuasive seem the interpretations conducted in Chapter Four (pp. 230-304). Here Piovan examines several orations, in which civil war plays a considerable but not dominant role. The coincidences he tries to establish between these orations and those of Chapters One to Three ('conspiracy theory': Lys. or XXX and or. XVIII, pp. 269-286, 305, inculpation of sycophants: Lys. or. XVI, pp. 246-252, 308) seem rather sporadic. Altogether, comparison of the orations examined in this chapter seems first and foremost helpful in substantiating the notion that the specific circumstances of a given oration have major influence on its argumentation.

Throughout the analysis, Piovan adduces parallel sources – most frequently from Xenophon, Aristotle, Antiphon and Isocrates – to compare them to Lysias' narratives. Piovan, on the whole, succeeds in pointing out in which parts of the narrative Lysias' interpretation of history can be regarded as either pure fiction, as deliberate reinterpretation of actual events, or as resulting from ideas circulating in the Athenian public. Here Piovan's study can contribute many details to the understanding of the chain of events leading from Aegospotami to the regime of the Thirty and then to the democratic restoration in 403 BCE, as well as to understanding the ways in which these events were condensed to collective memory in the years after.

While the general outline of Piovan's interpretations seems most convincing, there are some individual arguments that are difficult to follow. There is no reason, for example, to believe that in the Funeral Oration Lysias could have hinted at the whole theory of 'conspiracy' developed in other speeches by simply negating the alleged "κακία" of the generals at Aegospotami (pp. 295- 298). Several arguments are based on the assumption that ideas promulgated by Isocrates among his students were mediated into Diodorus' Bibliotheca via Ephorus' writings (pp. 67-68, 83-84, 125-126, 309-310) – yet the premise of this assumption (Ephorus a student of Isocrates) should be reassessed in the light of recent studies.¹ The discussion of For Mantitheos includes an e-silentio speculation that the defendant's absence from Athens in 405 BCE might have been motivated by dissent from democracy (pp. 249-250). Insufficient evidence is furnished also for the assumption that in On the Dokimasia of Evandrus the plaintiff had to resort to events from 411 BCE in the absence of charges against Evandrus in 405-403 BCE (pp. 254- 256). Somewhat startling is the tendency to employ comparisons between Lysias and examples from modern history. Notwithstanding Piovan's cautious prefatory remarks in this regard (p. 14), these comparisons compromise what would otherwise be perfectly plausible arguments (e.g. pp. 47-48 n. 63: Lysias' account as 'stab-in-the-back legend', 72: Theramenes vs. Vichy-France, 73 n. 103: Critias/Theramenes as Robespierre/Danton, 276: Athenian politicians vs. US governments during the Vietnam and Iraq wars). This becomes most obvious in a comparison of Theramenes' political outlook in conjunction with Critias and the common perception of Franz von Papen's cooperation with Hitler in 1933 as similar attempts to tame radicalism (p. 88 n. 116). In another example (p. 92), the term 'conspiracy theory', after being convincingly introduced as a hermeneutical tool, is flawed by a comparison with the notorious 'conspiracy theories' after 9/11, which obviously do not have too much in common with the 'conspiracy' Lysias insinuates.

These critical remarks, however, do not reduce the importance of Piovan's general interpretations, especially as argued in Chapters One to Three. This insightful and, by the way, neatly produced book can be of great value for everyone interested in the rhetorical shaping of identities and in the history of Athens at the turn of the 5^th and 4^th centuries BCE.

Notes:

1. Pessimistic towards the biographical sources: Michael A. Flower: Theopompus of Chios, Oxford 1994, 42- 62, Phillip Harding: Androtion and the Atthis, Oxford 1994, 17-18, Kai Trampedach: Platon, die Akademie und die zeitgenössische Politik, Stuttgart 1994, 125-131. In pp. 66-69 Piovan himself argues that the assumption of a Theramenian 'party' in Athens after 403 BC – Werner Jaeger's premise in framing Isocrates as a 'Theramenian' (HSPh Suppl. I, 1940, 409-450) – could not be upheld.

2012.01.36

2012-01-23T21:01:00.001-05:00

John Peter Oleson, Humayma Excavation Project, 1: Resources, History, and the Water-supply System. American Schools of Oriental Research archeological reports, 15. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2010. Pp. xxii, 526. ISBN 9780897570831. $89.95.

Reviewed by Kate da Costa, University of Sydney (kate.da.costa@sydney.edu.au)

Version at BMCR home site

Humayma is unusual in the southern Levant in that there is almost no modern settlement, meaning the site "and its hinterland [are] well preserved, [and] its identity, a foundation story, and some events of its subsequent history can be documented in ancient sources, along with its names: Hawara, Αὐάρα, Hauarra, and Humayma."(1).

The site appears to have been founded in the 1^st c BC, by Aretas III or IV, with the public water supply system the most obvious feature. Oleson speculates that it was to "serve as a center for sedentarization of the nomadic Nabataean pastoralists" (3) and as a caravan station. A Roman fort, including a reservoir tapping the Nabataean aqueduct, was constructed in the early 2^nd c AD when Arabia was annexed. Both the reuse of Nabataean spolia in the fort and the increase in pig remains from <1% in settlement contexts to nearly 20% in and around the fort (46-48) suggest both a non-local population and some conflict associated with the annexation, although Via Nova Traiana passing through/by ensured the site remained integrated into the new provincial system after 106 AD. The fort appears to have been empty during, or by, the Diocletianic period (due to Zenobia's campaign and/or the reorganization of the frontier), and reoccupied during the Constantinian period. A pagan shrine in the settlement went out of use by the early 4^th c AD. Around the end of the 4^th century, the fort was finally abandoned, although Byzantine inhabitants remained at the site , using the fort for spolia, and eventually building at least five churches – a surprising number for a relatively small town. The end of Christianity is not clear, but the Abbasid family purchased the town around 685, building a substantial fortified house, a mosque and planting an orchard, probably of commercial proportions. Humayma as a settlement was still listed by 9^th and 10^th-century geographers. Small but consistent amounts of pottery suggest that occupation, probably concentrated at the fortified house, continued from the Fatimid to Ottoman periods, although based on the evidence of early 19^th-century travellers, the site had been abandoned by the 18^th century at the latest. New Humayma has been established in the 20^th century to the east of the ancient site near the Desert Highway, and several of the cisterns and a reservoir have been "rehabilitated" by Jordanian authorities to provide water for the local Bedouin.

Oleson's original work at this site was as director of the Humayma Hydraulic Survey in 1986, 1987 and 1989. That work, and subsequent investigations of the water usage system within the site, augmented with preliminary faunal and botanical reports, forms the basis of this volume. Naturally, as the first volume in a planned series to publish the results of excavations which have taken place (with various co-directors) on a regular basis between 1991 and 2005, this volume also includes a discussion of the topography and geology of the site, previous archaeological work, and a short history of Humayma (chapters 1 and 2).¹ Chapter 3 describes in considerable detail the water supply system outside the site. This catalogues the springs, aqueduct(s), reservoir, cisterns, barriers, terraces and channels which surround the site – testament to considerable skill in water harvesting, and a variety of techniques employed so to do. Chapter 4 catalogues the system within the settlement, both of supply (reservoirs, cisterns, conduits and drains) and of usage (the Roman bath). A series of probes into the system were excavated in the first phase of the project and the results, with finds also from the survey, are outlined in Chapters 5 and 6.

Oleson clearly sets out the Hydraulic Project's research questions, which include not only basics of the scale, components and date of the system in and around Humayma, but the additions and modifications to the system by Roman, Byzantine and Islamic authorities. Beyond this, the team sought to examine the role of the water supply system in desert sedentarization. All these questions were addressed in more or less detail by the results of the survey and excavations, and are set out in Chapter 7. The final chapter, 8, relates the Humayma system to "earlier and contemporary water supply systems in the Near East"(5), including Petra, Faynan (Phaino), Qasr et-Telah, Udhruh, the area around Ma'an, Wadi Rumm, small sites along the Via Nova Traiana, Kh. Dharih and the Hegra. Water systems in the Negev are also covered, an area which while desert-like, contains much better soils for agriculture than southern Jordan/north Saudi Arabia, and where several significant Nabataean settlements have been excavated.

The survey found "four springs, one aqueduct system, four reservoirs, 62 cisterns, three impoundment dams, three sets of wadi barriers, and eight sets of artificial terraces or cleared fields." (7). The catalogue entries of the components of the water system are extremely detailed. Each independent feature has a site number, a UTM grid reference, a Palestinian Grid reference (calculated during the survey from a 1:25,000 topographic map and certainly less accurate than the UTM coordinates) and GPS elevations, although these are recognized as less accurate than the coordinates. Along the aqueduct, features are identified only by their distance from the spring (eg. Km. 1.638) and often also have UTM and Palestine Grid coordinates. Where masonry is involved, measurements of blocks are given, as are slope degrees where relevant. Numerous excellent photographs illustrate the more substantial features. Components within the settlement and those explored by probe also have good plans and sections.

The arrangement of the catalogue is in a hierarchy of types, from springs, through the aqueduct, to reservoirs, cisterns and other features.² These last include "hillside channels" and "slides" which do not connect to the water supply system but are evidence of water control. The logic of the system is discussed in Chapter 7, where the system of terracotta pipes, including pressure pipes in the Roman Fort which were exposed during post-survey excavation of the settlement, are more fully discussed.

Probes were undertaken in 1987 "to clarify the design, chronology and function of the aqueduct, reservoir in the fort, pool at the end of the aqueduct, two major covered reservoirs in the settlement centre, one cylindrical and one domed domestic cistern and the dam" (231). Subsequent probes investigated other details of drains and conduits. Each probe entry in the catalogue describes the architecture and concretions of each feature or component, with a locus listing which includes all finds. Good sized plates of ceramic profiles of diagnostic sherds, linked to fabric descriptions, are included, as are plans and sections of some probes.

The construction materials of mortar and plaster appeared different, to the eye, in texture, hardness and composition, so 50 samples were taken, later supplemented by 8 samples from other sites in Jordan. These construction materials were probably made locally, on the escarpment where more fuel was available. Analysis showed "variation in time and according to function" (338), but that it is insufficient to use the plaster or mortar alone to date structures. Oleson notes that apart from very recent work on plaster and mortar from Petra and Um el- Jimal, there is little comparative material available in the region, and of that, not very much scientifically published.

Throughout the book, photographs are exceptionally clear and where details may not be obvious, are indicated by arrows or lines. Given the attention to detail elsewhere in the book, the rather few maps disappoint. Figures 1.1 and 2.7 are essentially the same map although important features, such as the al-Shara escarpment or Jebel Thaur, are not noted on either. Nor are any watersheds marked, and these, critical to the entire discussion of the water catchment system, are not necessarily obvious even on the good topographical maps in this volume. The narrative description of the survey area (5) is hard to follow and could have been marked on map figure 1.1, which is slightly misleading in its caption "Topographical map of survey area ...".

In terms of results, two benefits of examining the water supply system in relation to the site are immediately obvious. The value of the hydraulic survey in determining the site's history is clear: the location for the foundation not only took into account the proximity of good soil and the King's Highway and routes to Wadi Rumm and west to the Wadi Arabah, but it is also where rain run-off fields converge and is the furthest point that gravity flow aqueducts could reach from the springs 15kms to the north.

Using the volume of water stored in the reservoirs and cisterns (ignoring for the moment the discharge of the aqueduct) and assuming that there was a 100% safety margin (i.e. an expectation that cisterns would only fill from run off every two years), and that the tanks in the settlement were mainly for humans while those outside the settlement were for animals – all reasonable assumptions – Oleson calculates the water storage could support approximately 448 people (mainly living in the town), 300 camels or donkeys and 3000 ovicaprids, along with 436 soldiers in the fort, whose reservoir lost more water with evaporation and had to hold enough to withstand a long siege. These figures are clearly debatable – in this semi-desert environment perhaps the safety margin might have been 200% – but show the potential of a thorough survey and enumeration of settlement water supply systems.

Studying ancient water supply systems is a burgeoning field of scholarship, related to research on contemporary water management. In the Levant, the hydraulics of Petra³ and the wider "Water, Life, Civilisation" project from Reading University⁴ have produced a broad background of data. Oleson links the aqueduct and pool system at Humayma with the conspicuous displays of water management at Petra in a programme of "royal or cultural prestige" (446). He contrasts the relative lack of roofed tanks at Petra, compared with Humayma, but does not note that almost none of the settlement of Petra has been excavated, nor indeed carefully surveyed, so that this argument from silence should perhaps be set aside. More noteworthy are the lack of terraces or barriers at Humayma. Oleson reviewed the evidence for run-off fields around Faynan and Qasr et-Telah, and mentions in the Petra and Nahal Hever papyri, showing that the practice, using stone or earth barriers, was widespread in similar topography to Humayma, and, moreover, relatively obvious archaeologically. The conclusion must be that very little agriculture was practised at Humayma. Finally, Oleson considers the relationship of Nabataean water systems with those current in the wider Hellenistic world. He particularly notes the debt to the Theater Cistern on Delos for the idea of arch- covered cisterns in Nabataea, and the general idea of decorative pools in various Hellenistic capitals. While there was no tradition of aqueducts in the Near East before the late Hellenistic period, the idea of using terracotta pipes for long-distance transport was, in Oleson's opinion, developed by the Nabataeans themselves. One small point to note – Oleson makes no reference to Persian or Egyptian water management systems, which surely were the originators of the paradeisos concept of garden and pool. Otherwise, this comprehensive, excellently produced, volume provides a model for the description of water systems, and an important survey of water management practises in the Near East in the Hellenistic and Roman periods.

Notes:

1.   The site is well known already, through at least 49 articles and one doctoral thesis published by Oleson, Foote, Reeves, Schick and Sherwood individually or collectively.
2.   Tanks greater than 450cum were defined as reservoirs, cisterns having an average capacity of 97cum, the largest with 300cum.
3.   An annotated bibliography, up to 2009, is given in chapter 8.
4.   S. Mithen "The domestication of water: water management in the ancient world and its prehistoric origins in the Jordan Valley", Phil. Trans. R. Soc. A. 368, 2010, 5249–5274 – in fact, this entire volume is a discussion meeting issue on "Water and Society: past, present and future"; S. Mithen & E. Black (eds) Water, Life and Civilisation: Climate, Environment and Society in the Jordan Valley (International Hydrology Series), Cambridge University Press, 2011.

2012.01.35

2012-01-22T22:18:00.001-05:00

Laura Monrós Gaspar, Robert Reece, Cassandra, the Fortune-teller: Prophets, Gipsies and Victorian Burlesque. le Rane. Studi, 56. Bari: Levante editori, 2011. Pp. 330. ISBN 9788879495752. €35.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Joanna Brown, University of Reading (sd724971@reading.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

[Table of Contents listed below.]

The Trojan princess Cassandra remains a haunting figure in the cultural imagination, being most recently reinterpreted by novelists Christa Wolf in Cassandra (1984) and Marion Zimmer Bradley in The Firebrand (1988). In her mythical personae as unheeded prophetess, madwoman, and victim of Apollo, Cassandra is a powerful symbol of the silenced woman, or the abuse survivor whose attacker accurately predicts that she will not be believed. In an impressive chronological span, Laura Monrós Gaspar explores Cassandra's previous incarnations in English literature from the Renaissance to the Victorian era, concluding with Robert Reece's 1868 burlesque, Agamemnon and Cassandra. Recent scholarship has noted that most of the dramatic texts in which Cassandra appeared have since been 'forgotten' (Grafton, Most and Settis 2010: 176), a failure of memory that Monrós Gaspar seeks to rectify.

In her preface, Monrós Gaspar places her work in the context of recent studies of Victorian classical and burlesque theatre (such as Eltis 2004, Macintosh 2000, Hall 1999), trends in the theory of classical reception (Martindale and Thomas 2006) and research on the reception of Cassandra in particular (Mazzoldi 2001, Neblung 1997). Monrós Gaspar describes her research as 'unveiling [the] cultural processes' behind the refigurations of this myth, focussing on 'the semiotic dialogue between art and reality.' Accordingly, Monrós Gaspar conceptualises a break between the realm of art and that of reality, and regards burlesque 'as a refracting and a reflecting mirror' of Victorian ideals and preoccupations.

In her Introduction, Monrós Gaspar sketches a reception history of the figure of Cassandra from the Middle Ages to the seventeenth century. She locates figurations of Cassandra as belonging to a collection of images of females 'conceived by the anxieties of patriarchal society' (21). From the beginning, then, Monrós Gaspar utilises the term 'patriarchal' as an analytical tool, one which has provoked much dissent within studies of feminist historiography (Morgan 2006). Monrós Gaspar seems to use the term as a convenient shorthand to denote features common to the male-dominated societies in which the Cassandra myth was created and refigured. She surveys the ancient literature in which Cassandra appears, drawing attention to the emphases on her beauty (in the Iliad, Virgil, Ovid and Ionnes Malalas), on her 'mad' look and visions (in Dares of Phrygia, Tzetzes and Ennius) and on the physical effects of prophecy on Cassandra's body (Aischylos, Euripides, Seneca). It is these ancient descriptions of her marginal knowledge and dramatic visions, Monrós Gaspar argues, that set the scene for her nineteenth-century appearance as a gypsy, witch, and fortune-teller. The Cassandra of the Middle Ages, as seen in Chaucer, she asserts, consists of 'the conceptualisation of unorthodox access to knowledge,' (30) while in the sixteenth century she was associated with contemporary heretics and prophets. As the century matured, emphasis came to rest on Cassandra as a cunning enchantress, in line with the seventeenth-century peak in belief in witchcraft.

Chapter One focuses on the way in which nineteenth century translations of Aischylos' Agamemnon and Homer's Iliad 'foreshadow popular reworkings of Cassandra' (60). Noting that translations of these texts served as the 'cultural models' through which refigurations of myth could be conceived, Monrós Gaspar draws attention to the use of pejorative terms used in the translations of Cassandra episodes. Looking at three popular and influential translations of Agamemnon by William Sewell, Hart Milman and Anna Swanwick, Monrós Gaspar analyses the vocabulary choices made by the translators to render the words such as pseudomantis and thurokopos, which Cassandra says are insults used against her by the Trojans in the Agamemnon (1194-5, 1269-74). Overall, Monrós Gaspar concludes that these translators utilise words which 'attempt to depict sage women with images related to the peripheral elements of society.' The second half of the chapter concentrates on the translation of Cassandra's appearance in the Iliad. Monrós Gaspar notes the general familiarity with excerpts from the Iliad (24: 699-708) appearing in translation, and alluded to in street fairs, penny books and burlesques. Here she argues that, in the episode in which Cassandra announces the return of Hektor's body to Troy, the translations of kokosen and gegone connect Iliadic myth with dramatic gestures seen in Victorian melodramas and burlesques. Kokosen, for example, was translated as 'shriek,' a word which held particular associations for Victorians with women, madness and hysteria.

Chapter Two discusses the general appearance of Cassandra in the nineteenth century, placing her in the context of the contemporary renaissance of the occult and the trend for works of 'social prophecy.' Monrós Gaspar argues that the nineteenth-century Cassandra marked a turning point from the eighteenth-century theatrical portrayal of her as a victim to be pitied, experiencing not madness but grief. By the mid-nineteenth century, Monrós Gaspar suggests, Cassandra had come to be associated with figures who had 'marginal access to culture,' such as women, prophets, gypsies and fortune-tellers. Mid- to late- century Cassandras were based upon pejorative female types, in part of a reaction to the 1857 Divorce and Matrimonial Causes Act, which made divorce easier for women to access. Monrós Gaspar draws on visual representations of Cassandra, noting that Rossetti's 1870 Cassandra aligned the prophetess with pre-Raphaelite 'fallen' women and that artists expressed Cassandra's rage through depictions of her unbound hair. In the final section, Monrós Gaspar draws together the themes of Victorian sage writing and figurations of prophetesses, gypsies and fortune-tellers in popular Victorian culture. She notes that gypsies were treated as anthropological subjects in periodicals, and that, like Cassandra, gypsies 'are peripheral figures who stray from the paths of conventional and mainstream access to and possession of knowledge' (116). While these peripheral characters are heroic when male (as in the works of Carlisle), they are malevolent when female.

Chapter Three traces the evolution of Cassandra from the virtuous sage in the eighteenth century to the mad fortune-teller in the nineteenth, focussing on Cassandra's appearances in comic theatre. She notes that Victorian burlesque grew out of eighteenth-century street entertainments which often used classical mythology to amuse a popular audience. The first comic Cassandras appear in the eighteenth century, as well as 'sentimental Cassandras in high brow entertainment' (130). In the early eighteenth century, Cassandra is depicted as a mournful victim, far from the mad Victorian figure. However, it was in the mid-century that Cassandra was first connected with peripheral figures such as gypsies. In an 1819 play, produced at the time when Queen Caroline was being divorced for adultery, Cassandra criticises Paris and Helen for their adulterous behaviour and portrays Paris as a dandy. However, despite her overt moralising, hints are made towards the prophetess's madness, which Monrós Gaspar argues 'foreshadows' Reece's burlesque treatment of her. From her image as moral sage in 1819, Cassandra morphs into a frenzied 'shrew' taking vengeance on Clytaimnestra in 1868.

Chapter Four is a close reading of Robert Reece's 1868 burlesque, Agamemnon and Cassandra, which acts as the teleological focal point for the book. Monrós Gaspar remarks upon Reece's contribution to the genre of burlesque, and situates his Agamemnon within the context of the debates of the 1850s and 1860s about the 'strong-minded woman' and divorce. She cites the play as the first to treat Cassandra as a three-dimensional character and argues that 'the ambivalence of burlesque favours a comic Cassandra which both perpetuates and departs from the Greek prototypes, reimagining the signs within an ideological context in which her predictions are believed' (158). Cassandra in her speeches directly associates herself with nineteenth-century fortune-telling almanacs, which Victorians 'rejected as well as demanded' (191). The craze for fortune-telling represented 'the social recognition of peripheral knowledge' (191). In Reece's burlesque, then, Cassandra is rejected as well as heeded, and the ambivalence of the genre towards intellectual models and marginal knowledge allows it to associate Cassandra both with the ugly and vengeful Furies, and with the revelation of truth. While revealing the plot to kill Agamemnon, and crafting Clytaimnestra's exposure in a dramatic and clever way, she remains ambivalent. Clytaimnestra is portrayed rather as a soulless and calculating murderer without the mitigating factor of a sacrificed daughter, ruling over the henpecked Aigisthos. The play, Monrós Gaspar suggests, constructs two approaches to the figure of the New Woman in Clytaimnestra and Cassandra. Monrós Gaspar locates burlesque questioning of women's roles beside the use of the figure of Cassandra as the paradigmatic silenced woman by Margaret Fuller and Florence Nightingale (see also Monrós Gaspar 2007).

Despite continuities in the portrayal of the Trojan princess between Reece and earlier treatments, Monrós Gaspar argues that there is a substantial gap between them. Agamemnon and Cassandra coincides temporally with feminist upheaval, and '[b]urlesque offered Victorian audiences a cathartic mirror where social stereotypes were decoded for laughter' (202). Concluding, Monrós Gaspar suggests that Victorian refigurations of Cassandra include the juxtaposition of Cassandra as the false prophet with her as the wise and heeded; she is ambivalently presented between conservative fears of women's education with the Victorian craze for peripheral prophetic figures. It was the 'ambivalence' of burlesque, Monrós Gaspar concludes, that allowed for the 'coexistence of opposing refigurations of the myth and staged both a scorned and a strong-minded heroine' (205). Monrós Gaspar's book ends with illustrations of Cassandra and of gypsies in ethnographic articles and usefully reproduces the entire script of Reece's Agamemnon, a play which would otherwise be difficult for her readers to access.

Monrós Gaspar's volume is an extremely valuable contribution to nineteenth-century social history, women's history and classical reception studies, drawing attention to non-elite and neglected texts while drawing on recent rich studies of classics and Victorian popular culture. Monrós Gaspar surveys and analyses an impressive range of material, both textual and visual, and throws a light upon the reception of a deeply evocative and ambivalent classical figure. The focus on Reece's play as the culminating point of the work is suggestive of an evolutionary process through which Cassandra 'becomes' the heeded New Woman of 1868. While this highlights nicely the ways in which aspects of Cassandra's presentation in previous contexts contribute to Reece's portrait, it does run the risk of presenting a single, developing Cassandra rather than multiple Cassandras. Also notable and evocative is Monrós Gaspar's use of terms such as 'anticipating' and 'foreshadowing', in places where she suggests that certain representational aspects of Cassandra provide clues towards her future. These phrases harmonise with the theme of the second-sighted Cassandra, bringing the marginalised prophetess's vision to bear in Monrós Gaspar's text. Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Cassandras are themselves prophecies of Cassandras yet to be realised in the classical tradition. Monrós Gaspar's book adeptly illustrates the ways in which mythical figures are refigured and reproduced through layers of text and spectacle and brings a marginal classical figure in equally marginal popular texts into the limelight. Monrós Gaspar centralises Cassandra in classical discourse, reinvoking an evocative marginalised figure who continues to be a source of female identification.

Acknowledgements 9
Preface 11
Introduction: Cassandra from Homer to the 1600s 21
Chapter 1: Cassandra and the Classics in Translation(1820-1868) 59
1.1. Knowledge, Witchcraft and Fortune-telling: Aeschylus' Agamemnon 61
1.2. Images of the Voice: Cassandra in Homer's Iliad 76
1.3. Other Sources 84
Chapter 2: Nineteenth-Century Cassandra 89
2.1. Gestures, Movements and Attitudes 90
2.2. Prophets, Gipsies and Fortune-Tellers 107
Chapter 3: Comic Cassandra (1707-1854) 125
3.1. Eighteenth-century Comic Street Theatre 128
3.2. Cassandra and the Equestrian Burlesque (1819-1854) 139
Chapter 4: Cassandra, Robert Reece and the heyday of burlesque 157
4.1. Robert Reece and Burlesque 158
4.2 Agamemnon and Cassandra or the Prophet and Loss of Troy (1868) 171
4.2.1. The Liverpool Scene 171
4.2.2. Textual Sources: An 'Intertextual Extravaganza' 180
4.2.3. Cassandra: a Witch, a Fortune-Teller and a New Woman 186
Appendix I: Illustrations 205
Appendix II: List of Modern Cassandras 221
Appendix III: Agamemnon and Cassandra, or; the Prophet and Loss of Troy 225
References 287
Index 319

Bibliography

Bradley, M. Z. 1988The Firebrand. Michael Joseph, London
Eltis, S. 2004 'The Fallen Woman on Stage: Maidens, Magdalens and the Emancipated Female' in K. Powell ed. The Cambridge Companion to Victorian and Edwardian Theatre. Cambridge, CUP: 222-36
Grafton, A., G. W. Most and S. Settis eds. 2010 The Classical Tradition. Cambridge MA, London: Harvard
Hall, E. 1999 'Classical Mythology in the Victorian Popular Theatre' International Journal of the Classical Tradition, 5: 336-66
Hall, E., F. Macintosh and O. Taplin eds. 2000. Medea in Performance 1500-2000. Oxford, OUP
Macintosh, F. 2000 'Medea Transposed: Burlesque and Gender on the Mid-Victorian Stage' in E. Hall, F. Macintosh and O. Taplin 2000: 74-99
Martindale, C. and R. Thomas eds. 2006 Classics and the Uses of Reception. Blackwell, Oxford
Mazzoldi, S. 2001 Cassandra, la vergine e l'indovina. Identita di un personaggio da Omero all'Ellenismo. Pisa
Monrós Gaspar, L. 2007 'The Voice of Cassandra: Florence Nightingale's Cassandra (1852) and the Victorian Woman' New Voices in Classical Reception Studies Vol. 3: 61-76
Morgan, S. 2006 The Feminist History Reader. Routledge, Abingdon
Neblung, D. 1997 Der Gestalt der Kassandra in der antiken Literatur. Stuttgart and Leipzig
Wolf, C. trans. Jan van Heiurk 1984 Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays. Virago, London

2012.01.34

2012-01-22T21:02:00.001-05:00

Anna Magnetto, Donatella Erdas, Cristina Carusi (ed.), Nuove ricerche sulla legge granaria ateniese del 374/3 a.C.. Studi e testi di storia antica 20. Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2010. Pp. 304. ISBN 9788846728265. €18.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Alexis D'Hautcourt, Kansai Gaidai University (adhautco@kansaigaidai.ac.jp)

Version at BMCR home site

[Authors and titles are listed at the end of the review.]

En 1998, R.S. Stroud a publié une extraordinaire inscription sur pierre trouvée en 1986 à l'agora d'Athènes, en réemploi.¹ Cette inscription donne à lire des informations sur une loi de 374/3 av. J.-C., qui permet de voir les institutions d'Athènes au travail. La loi concerne deux taxes, la première, une taxe d'1/12^e sur le grain des îles Lemnos, Imbros et Skyros, la deuxième, une taxe d'1/50^e, dont le caractère est plus difficile à définir. La taxe du douzième, quant à elle, est en fait modifiée par la loi de l'inscription: elle devra dorénavant être perçue en nature, plutôt qu'en argent. L'inscription est complexe et on pourrait dire qu'elle représente le pire cauchemar des épigraphistes: un texte complet en beau grec classique mais qui reste en partie obscur. C'est donc une bonne idée que d'avoir organisé un colloque sur le thème de la loi de 373/4 en 2006, colloque dont les actes sont maintenant publiés.

On nous permettra un mot d'abord pour dire ce que l'on ne trouvera pas dans le volume. Aucune nouvelle étude n'est présentée sur l'aspect physique de la pierre, en particulier sur le curieux panneau ondulé qui surmonte les lignes de l'inscription et qui était sans doute peint, comme Stroud l'avait écrit en 1998 en invitant sans succès à de nouvelles recherches sur ce sujet.² Sauf erreur de ma part, aucune tentative n'a pas non plus été faite dans le livre pour proposer de nouvelles restaurations à l'unique endroit où le texte est vraiment endommagé, l. 25-26, lorsqu'il est fait mention d'un sekoma, d'un instrument pour mesurer le grain.³ C'est un signe de la valeur de la première édition du texte.

Il aurait sans doute fallu, après le bilan introductif de Stroud (également auteur des mots de conclusion), non pas reléguer en fin de volume, mais placer en première position l'article de Cristina Carusi, La legge di Agirrio e le syngraphai ateniesi di IV secolo, qui aurait pu s'intituler « Pourquoi on ne comprend pas la loi d'Agyrrhios ». Par une étude détaillée du langage du document et par la comparaison avec d'autres textes épigraphiques, Carusi montre que l'inscription ne donne pas à proprement parler le texte de la loi ou du contrat avec les fermiers, ni assez d'éléments pour en comprendre précisément tous les tenants et aboutissants. L'inscription ne doit pas être comprise stricto sensu comme un texte légal, mais comme une annonce générale qui permet de vanter les mérites politiques d'Agyrrhios. Carusi propose aussi que l'inscription était dressée auprès du bâtiment qu'elle mentionne: l'Aiakeion, que Stroud a identifié avec un bâtiment de l'agora d'Athènes. La lecture de ce bel article est nécessaire pour comprendre ce que les autres études du livre peuvent ou ne peuvent pas offrir, pour comprendre pourquoi presque tous les autres articles du volume ne concernent pas tant directement la loi elle-même, que son esprit ou son contexte institutionnel, économique et social.

Par l'étude du calendrier, des mois mentionnés dans la loi, Leopold Migeotte quant à lui, montre bien que le blé recueilli par la taxe du 1/12^e avait un effet de soudure entre deux années, permettait de dépanner les gens au moment où leurs réserves arrivaient à leur fin, avant les nouvelles récoltes.

Comme nous venons de le dire, même s'ils se rattachent plus ou moins étroitement à quelques points de la loi de 374/3, les autres articles présentent des études plus générales, ce qui ne retire rien à leur qualité. Voici, à notre avis, quels sont les apports majeurs du livre. Vu la complexité du dossier, et la longueur de certains articles, il est probable que d'autres recenseurs y trouveront d'autres points positifs. Corsaro offre une bonne étude comparative avec les affermeurs de taxe en Sicile connus par Cicéron et une bonne synthèse sur les taxes directes et indirectes connues en Grèce. Erdas a écrit une fine analyse juridique, économique et sociale des gens qui se portaient garants des fermiers de taxe, et elle montre bien les réseaux d'affaires qu'ils pouvaient nouer entre eux. Fantasia présente d'intéressantes considérations sur la carrière d'Agyrrhios et son aspect populiste. Les articles d'Ampolo et Fantasia sont importants pour l'étude de l'approvisionnement des cités grecques et des politiques menées contre les famines et disettes jusqu'à l'époque romaine. Même si elle manque de conclusion, l'étude de Magnetto est intéressante comme elle déploie un bon panorama de mesures civiques destinées à promouvoir les échanges commerciaux, en insistant en particulier sur le droit. Enfin, Faraguna offre une belle contribution sur les mécanismes de la ferme d'impôts à Athènes, touchant aussi à la concession et à la location de lieux publics, et il s'attaque, lui, directement à un des points les plus controversés de l'inscription: la définition des meris et la façon dont les fermiers (et les historiens modernes) pouvaient estimer leurs gains avec ces taxes.

Gallo, quant à lui, essaie de trouver une circonstance précise et une disette particulière a laquelle rapporter la création initiale de la taxe du 1/12^e, mais, en 8 pages, il ne fait pas beaucoup de progrès sur l'hypothèse que Stroud avait développée en un paragraphe.

Les grands absents du volume sont les contribuables des taxes, et c'est regrettable car leur étude permettrait peut- être de mieux comprendre plusieurs faits notables de la loi d'Agyrrhios. Il est d'autant plus important de les prendre en compte qu'ils étaient citoyens athéniens, comme la majorité des savants s'accorde à le penser. Même s'ils n'ont très probablement pas physiquement pris part au vote, il n'est pas déraisonnable d'imaginer que les points du vue et intérêts des clérouques de Lemnos, Imbros et Skyros ont été considérés par les créateurs de la loi. Il faut en tenir compte lorsque on essaie de la comprendre, ainsi que ses modifications. On s'est ainsi parfois étonné de l'existence d'un impôt personnel à Athènes, mais il ne faut pas oublier que la taxe du 1/12^e alimentait le fonds des stratiotika, le fonds des dépenses militaires. Les habitants des trois îles, qui venaient d'être reconcédées à Athènes lors de la Paix d'Antalcidas en 387, étaient en première position en cas de nouveau conflit armé. Ces agriculteurs entreprenants connaissaient les avantages économiques et la fertilité des îles, mais ils étaient aussi bien conscients des risques qu'ils prenaient en s'installant loin d'Athènes et donc de la nécessité d'une armée forte. Ensuite, on a parfois été surpris par la transformation d'une taxe en argent en taxe en nature. Or, une étude numismatique publiée suite aux fouilles archéologiques récentes, par des équipes italiennes, de l'ile de Lemnos fait penser que les habitants de cette ile souffraient d'un défaut de numéraires.⁴ On peut alors imaginer que les clérouques aient préféré se passer d'intermédiaires banquiers ou autres hommes d'argent et qu'il ait été plus facile pour eux de payer la taxe en nature. A moins bien sûr qu'il se soit agi de rendre le travail des fermiers et des percepteurs des taxes plus aisé et plus profitable. Le talent d'homme politique d'Agyrrhios consistait à satisfaire plusieurs parties de la société athénienne en utilisant une seule loi pour au moins trois buts différents: améliorer l'approvisionnement en blé de la ville à un moment dans l'année difficile, faciliter à la demande de ses contribuables la perception d'une taxe et renforcer la part de budget militaire d'Athènes.⁵

La traduction anglaise de l'inscription par Stroud, reproduite depuis l'édition de 1998 et rendue en partie obsolète, une traduction en italien par Fantasia, meilleure car plus récente, une photographie de la stèle de l'inscription, une bibliographie d'une trentaine de pages et des index (sources, noms de personnes et noms géographiques) cloturent le volume. La qualité des articles de synthèse et des études de détail de ce volume en font un livre que je recommande pour toutes les bibliothèques consacrées à l'antiquité gréco-romaine, mais aussi, grâce à son prix raisonnable, à toute personne intéressée par l'histoire économique et sociale et par l'histoire d'Athènes.

Table des matières

Presentazione, 9
Ronald S. Stroud, Introduction, 11
Léopold Migeotte, Le grain des îles et l'approvisionnement d'Athènes au IVe siècle avant J.-C., 27
Carmine Ampolo, Le motivazioni della legge sulla tassazione del grano di Lemno, Imbro e Sciro e il prezzo di grano e pane, 39
Ugo Fantasia, La politica del grano pubblico nelle città greche: alcune riflessioni a partire dalla legge di Agirrio, 67
Mauro Corsaro, Il nomos di Agirrio e la tassazione diretta del grano nel mondo greco, 99
Michele Faraguna, Il sistema degli appalti pubblici ad Atene nel IV sec. a.C. e la legge di Agirrio, 129
Luigi Gallo, Il nomos di Agirrio e una testimonianza di Demostene, 149
Anna Magnetto, Incentivi e agevolazioni per i mercanti nel mondo Greco in età classica ed ellenistica, 159
Donatella Erdas, Il ricorso ai garanti solvibili nei documenti ateniesi di età classica, 187
Cristina Carusi, La legge di Agirrio e le syngraphai ateniesi di IV secolo, 213
Ronald S. Stroud, Future Research on the Athenian Grain Tax Law, 235
La legge. Editio princeps (R.S. Stroud), 243
English translation (R.S. Stroud), 245
Traduzione italiana (U. Fantasia), 247
Illustrazione, 249
Bibliografia generale, 251
Indice delle fonti antiche, 283
Indice dei nomi antichi, 295
Indice dei luoghi, 299

Notes:

1.   R.S. Stroud, The Athenian Grain-Tax Law of 374/3 B.C. (Athènes-Princeton, 1998) (= Hesperia Supplement 29); voir le compte-rendu de P.J. Rhodes, BMCR 1999.03.13. Nous prions les éditeurs et les lecteurs de la BMCR de nous excuser pour notre retard à soumettre ce compte-rendu.
2.   On peut voir une petite photographie de l'inscription sur la page internet annonçant le colloque de 2006: Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Normale News on the Web 30/5/2006.
3.   L'exemple d'Eleusis, mentionné par Stroud en 1998, a été publié, et on peut l'admirer grâce à une belle photographie du site internet de la Cornell University Library, Mysteries at Eleusis. Images of Inscriptions.
4.   A. Polosa, La moneta e la circolazione, in Hephaestia 2000-2006 éd. par E. Greco et E. Papi (Paestum-Athènes, 2008), p. 139-164. Sur les nouvelles recherches concernant les clérouques, on peut écouter sur internet l'enregistrement de la conférence donnée le 16 avril 2010 au Collège de France par E. Culasso Gastaldi: Athènes et « les établissements au-delà des bornes » (Xénophon, Mém. II 1) : les clérouquies de Lemnos, Imbros et Skyros.
5.   Sur les talents et la réputation politiques d'Agyrrhios, voir aussi W.E. Major, Farting for Dollars: A Note on Agyrrhios in Aristophanes Wealth 176, AJPh 123, 4, (2002), p. 549-557 (absent dans la bibliographie).

2012.01.33

2012-01-22T20:41:00.001-05:00

P. Mureddu, G. F. Nieddu, S. Novelli (ed.), Tragico e comico nel dramma attico e oltre: intersezioni e sviluppi parateatrali. Atti dell'Incontro di studi, Cagliari 4-5 febbraio 2009. Supplementi di Lexis, 58. Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert Editore, 2009. Pp. 226. ISBN 9789025612542. €52.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Mattia De Poli, Università degli Studi di Padova (mattia.depoli@unipd.it)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

This book is a collection of essays presented during the conference on Greek tragedy and comedy, organized by the University of Cagliari. Scholars from several Italian universities deal with fifth-century Attic drama and its influence on Platonic dialogues or on later works in the Hellenistic Period and Late Antiquity.

Antonio Martina ("Il mito di Elettra e l'ideazione drammatica nell'Elettra di Euripide") traces step by step the development of Electra's mythical figure from archaic epos (Homeric poems and the epic cycle) to Euripides' Electra and Orestes, going through earlier lyric and tragic poetry (Xanthus, Stesichorus, Aeschylus, Sophocles). He mainly focuses on Euripides and his innovative approach to the mythical subject in comparison with Stesichorus and Aeschylus.

Giuseppina Basta Donzelli ("La parodo dello Ione di Euripide") offers an analysis of the parodos in Euripides' Ion and investigates its relationship with the sculptural decoration of the pediment on the temple of Apollo at Delphi . Tales about Heracles, Bellerophon and the Gigantomachy are quickly evoked by the chorus, probably because spectators knew them well. Basta Donzelli notes some inaccuracies in the description of the actual Delphi pediment and deals with the dramaturgical meaning of such a parodos within this tragedy. She supports her text with an iconographical appendix of 11 figures.

Paolo Cipolla ("Due testimonia relative a Pratina di Fliunte (Dioscoride, AP 7.707; Pap. Petrie 2.49.B.20-24)") gives a detailed reading of a fictional epigram for Sositheus in order to derive information about the works of Pratinas and the development of satyric drama, from Sophocles to the Hellenistic Age. Cipolla then suggests that the lacuna in Pap. Petrie 2.49.B.20 could be filled simply by an allusion to the genre of Pratinas' works (satyric plays) instead of a single title. Finally he adds additional arguments ("post scriptum") against the famous Pratinas' hyporchema as a part of a satyric drama:¹ lyric poetry was at least an influence on this choral song.

Patrizia Mureddu ("Il processo a Socrate nell'Apologia di Platone") deals with Plato's skilful way of presenting Socrates' character within his Apology: Mureddu argues that this dialogue gives the appearance of artlessness , while in fact nothing was said by chance and Plato looks like a wise playwright who mixed tragic and comic tones. Finally, she marks important differences between Apology of Socrates by Plato and Apology of Palamedes by Gorgias regarding the choices of the speaking character and their effects on the hearers.

Gian Franco Nieddu ("Un medico per commensale: il discorso di Erissimaco nel Simposio di Platone") focuses on Eryximachus' speech in Plato's Symposium. This character was portrayed by the ancient philosopher as a young, self-confident iatrosophistes, who promoted medicine as the most important science but misunderstood both Heraclitus' theory about the opposite elements and Aristophanes' tragicomic asking for help against hiccup. As a result, Plato presented his well-read and well-defined speech as at the same time emphatic and forced.

Antonino Milazzo ("Aristofane nella retorica tardo-antica") investigates the relationship between Aristophanic comedy and rhetorical handbooks in Late Antiquity (II-VI centuries) along three lines: interpretations of ancient texts, links between poetry and eloquence, ways of quotation. Aristophanes was often compared with Menander and rhetoricians were interested in different aspects: language, style and meaning or rhetorical effectiveness. Different points of view led to different evaluations.

Luigi Leurini ("Βοῦς Κύπριος εἶ. Gli animali nei proverbi delle commedie di Menandro") collects a wide range of proverbs taken from Menander's comedy, gathered by animal. Leurini also tries both to examine their range and the evolution in their meaning and to suggest the contexts in which they were inserted and their dramaturgical function.

Adele Teresa Cozzoli ("L'Ecale di Callimaco e la poesia 'di nuovo stile'") considers the narrative technique in Callimachus' Ecale, finds some theatrical reminiscences and investigates their functions in epic poetry. She mainly focuses on the two speaking birds and points out the features of Hellenistic epic poetry in comparison with archaic epic, such as realism and contamination among different traditional genres. Cozzoli analyses this 'new style' looking at both content and language.

Maria Pia Pattoni ("Riusi epico-tragici e distanziazioni parodiche nei Pastoralia di Longo") deals with the influence of tragedy on Longus' Pastoralia: such a contamination between tragic and bucolic tones usually produced comic effects. The novelist also took the Homeric epos as a model for his work: in any case , the different context and genre implied a shift in pathos.

Tristano Gargiulo ("Un caso di intertestualità nel Romanzo di Alessandro: i fraintendimenti di β e γ rispetto ad A") focuses on both the textual discrepancies between the several versions of the Alexander Romance and the differences in meaning they implied: the main character, for example, is not presented everywhere in the same way. So Gargiulo argues that one version is not more correct than the others and that editors of the Alexander Romance should keep this matter in mind.

Finally, Vittorio Citti ("Conclusioni") sums up the content of each paper and underlines the wide range of topics on Attic drama and its later echoes that this book offers to its readers.

All in all, this book is a complex and rich study on the relationship between different genres and works from different ages and an important contribution in the field of intertextuality, where Attic drama plays a major role. According to Friedrich Nietzsche, quoted by Nieddu (p. 101), tragedy took up elements from all the earlier poetic genres, and the Platonic dialogues had the same attitude vis-à-vis narration, poetry and drama. According to these collected papers, in Late Antiquity rhetoric handbooks and novels seem to proceed in much the same way.

Notes:

1. Cipolla contests the arguments supported by Giovan Battista D'Alessio, Ἢν ἰδού: Ecce Satyri (Pratina, PMG 708 = TrGF 4 F 3). Alcune considerazioni sull'uso della deissi nei testi lirici e teatrali, in Franca Perusino, Maria Colantonio (eds.), Dalla lirica corale alla poesia drammatica: forme e funzioni del canto corale nella tragedia e nella commedia greca, Edizioni ETS, Pisa, 2007, pp. 95-128.

2012.01.32

2012-01-21T16:37:00.001-05:00

Alessandra Gilibert, Syro-Hittite Monumental Art and the Archaeology of Performance. The Stone Reliefs at Carchemish and Zincirli in the Earlier First Millennium BCE. TOPOI Berlin Studies of the Ancient World vol. 2. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Pp. 223, figs. 100. ISBN 9783110222258. $150.00.

Reviewed by Nicola Laneri, University of Catania (nicolalaneri@hotmail.com)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

The book is based on a 2008 doctoral dissertation (Freie Universität, Berlin) and deals with the Syro-Hittite monumental art unearthed at the Iron Age (ca. 1200-700 BCE) ancient city-states of Carchemish and Zincirli (ancient Sam'al) in southeastern Turkey. Gilibert aims to approach the subject using not only an art historical perspective, but also to enlarge it into a more thorough vision that includes insights "into the complex web between images and modes of their consumption" (p. 3). In particular, the author focuses on the role played by monumental art in the enactment of ceremonial performances and on how this process achieved the objectives of the elites by materializing their ideological power. The theoretical premises on which Gilibert's study is based are briefly stated in a short introduction (Chapter 1), whereas Chapter 2 is dedicated to a geographical and historical introduction to the region during the Iron Age and especially to the sites of Carchemish, located on the right bank of the Euphrates at the border between Turkey and Syria, and Zincirli, about 100 km northwest of Carchemish.

In Chapter 3, the author concentrates her attention on the city-state of Carchemish with a specific focus on the monumental art of two city gates (the South Gate and the Water Gate) and on the ceremonial area located in the inner city at the southern foot of the main mound. The South Gate is a large rampart that divides the architectural plan by separating the 'inner' and the 'outer' towns, and is composed of a monumental entrance, two broad-rooms (Breiträume), and a stone-paved passageway leading to the inner city. In terms of monumental art, a basalt portal lion was found outside, whereas inside the rooms a funerary stele and the remains of a statue of a man, probably representing "a deceased ruler of the city" (p. 23), were brought to light.

However, it is in the northeastern corner of the inner city that the largest amount of monumental art was discovered. This area consists of an entrance to the inner citadel from the Euphrates side (the Water Gate), a long street running east-west, a large plaza the Lower Palace Area) that is enclosed by the precinct of the temple of the Storm God and the Great Staircase at the northwestern corner and by the Herald's Wall on the south, and is connected to another large outdoor space (King's Gate Area) that links this wide open area to other buildings located to the south (e.g., the Hilani).

In this area, the monumental art consists primarily of carved basalt and limestone orthostats covering the outer face of the walls as well as portal lions flanking the building's entrances and a few inscriptions. Within this context, an impressive visual impact is created by the series of orthostats that form a consecutive line along the Long Wall of Sculpture, the eastern façade of the temple of the Storm God. In this case, the stone slabs created a single 36m long figurative scene representing processions of gods and goddesses, warriors, charioteers, rulers and a long inscription by king Suhis II (ca. late tenth century BCE). The southern façade of the wall leading to the King's Gate complex, the entrance at which a monumental seated statue of a male figure on a double-lion basis (early ninth century BCE) was located, has a complex life-history that began in the early tenth century BCE and ended in the seventh; the wall was decorated with a unique series of basalt and limestone orthostats representing hunting scenes, mythological themes, processions, and an inscription by Yariris (ca. 790 BCE). As the author points out with insight, this decorative pattern "privilege[d] the chromatic alternation basalt/limestone over thematic consistency" (p. 43).

The whole section dedicated to the monumental art of Carchemish is brilliantly analyzed by Gilibert who combines good art historical scholarship of Syro-Hittite monumental art with an emphasis on reconstructing the visual impact the monumental art had on the people approaching the ceremonial open area.

The Iron Age settlement of Zincirli is investigated in Chapter 4. During this period the site is marked by two concentric fortification walls; while the outer one is marked by the presence of three double gates, the inner one has only one entrance leading to the mounded citadel. The author's decision to focus solely on analysis of the relationship between architecture and monumental art, leaving aside all the other subjects (e.g., the development of the inner citadel) that have been widely discussed by other scholars, makes this chapter an important contribution to the field. In her contextualized analysis of the monumental art of Zincirli, Gilibert starts from the Southern City Gate, "most imposing of the three city gates" (p. 58), which is also the only one providing us with monuments. More specifically, the monumental art recovered at this city gate appears to belong to the site's most ancient phase of occupation (i.e., late tenth century BCE) and consists of the remains of two large portal lions and a series of orthostats representing mythological figures, a warrior holding the head of an enemy, a ceremonial scene with two men drinking from cups and scenes from hunting wild game. In her analysis Gilibert then moves towards the citadel, investigating first the access to the inner fortification wall that is composed of two gates, one of which (the Outer Citadel Gate) was embellished with an extraordinary decorative pattern composed of a series of carved and aniconic (in the inner court) basalt orthostats placed to cover and sustain the fill of the wall, and an open area enclosed by the fortified walls and the two gates in which five monumental basalt portal lions were found intentionally buried in a pit at the end of their life-histories.

Regarding the citadel, Gilibert focuses her attention on the portal lions flanking the sides of the entrance to the palatial complex (i.e., Gate Q), the colossal statue of a standing bearded man dressed with a long skirt found outside of Building J, the Kulamuwa orthostat (ca. 840-810 BCE) that presents the ruler next to a 16-lined inscribed text written in the Aramaic alphabet and using a North-Phoenician language that was located at the entrance to the same building, and the decorative elements associated with the Hilanis (buildings with a columned porch at the entrance). Within this context, the author correctly highlights the embedment of monumental art, inscribed texts and the cult of the royal ancestors in the process of materializing the ideological power of the Syro-Hittite elites during the Iron Age. Based on iconographic comparanda with other contemporaneous examples bearing funerary inscriptions, the author interprets the colossal statue as commemorating a "deceased ruler" (p. 77); whereas the presence of circular depressions ("cup-marks") on top of the heads of the lions and the male figure represented on the base of the statue are interpreted as locales for holding ritual offerings. For the Kulamuwa orthostat, the iconography of the ruler holding a flower while pointing his finger to a series of symbols and the written text belongs to an iconographic tradition of the Late Bronze and Iron Ages in which "the person holding the flower is deceased" and, "thus, the portal orthostat bears the image of the deceased Kulamuwa communicating with gods" (p. 82). To add more to this picture of memorialization of the ancestors, the colossal statue was found ritually buried in a cist grave, next to its own base, confirming the use of rituals connected with the end of the life-history of important monumental objects. The pivotal role played by the cult of the ancestors at Zincirli is also recognizable in the intra muros cist graves found in the citadel as well as by the presence of funerary stelae with a banquet scene found both in the citadel, next to a cist grave and adjacent to Hilani I, and, more recently, in a building of the north lower town, thanks to excavations led by the archaeological team of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.

Chapter 5 is the most important and successful section of the book. It is in this chapter that Gilibert redefines the visual impact of Syro-Hittite monumental art to consider it as part of a more complex built environment in which the decorated slabs, the statues, the inscriptions, the outdoor space, and the architecture were all part of a network of significance that "contributed together to the creation of a specific sense of place" (p. 97). In particular, monumental art at the Iron Age sites of Zincirli and Carchemish had a specific performative functionality as is clearly evident from the location of orthostats, statues and portal lions in open spaces outfitted with installations for ritual acts, and also from the depiction of ceremonies in the iconography and by the presence of written sources describing ceremonies and rituals. The presence of these three elements in the architectural context, as well as the iconographic and written evidence, allows the author to emphasize the performative relationship between the locale and the monumental art at these sites in a way that served "to mark out ceremonial spaces for ritual performances" (p. 112). Within this perspective, the ritual performances were most likely dedicated to the commemoration of the past, for the legitimisation of the ruling class and for the reinforcement of the collective identity.

In Chapter 6, Gilibert applies a diachronic perspective in the process of reconstructing the development of the relationship between monumental art and ritual performances. The author defines four phases in which a transformation in the relationship between art, ceremonial practices, and forms of power among the Iron Age Syro-Hittite elite are recognizable: "the archaic transitional period" (twelfth to mid-tenth century BCE, pp. 115-119) to which belong the earliest examples of monumental art at Carchemish characterized by an artistic "formal language" (p. 119); "the age of civic ritual" (late tenth to early ninth century BCE, pp. 119-125) that is marked by a composition of the scenes whose format can be classified as "public spectacles" (p. 119) among which the "public staging of the royal ancestor cult" (p. 120) appears as one of the prominent performances enacted in open spaces; "the mature transitional period" (870-790 BCE, pp. 125-128) that sees a continuity with the previous period as well as an increase of "non-royal funerary stelae" (p. 126); and, finally, "the age of court ceremony" (790-690 BCE, pp. 128-131) that sees an "enhanced role played by non-royal officers" in the figurative representations.

The final Chapter 7 is dedicated to the concluding remarks whereas the catalogue of all the orthostats, statues, stelae, and inscriptions mentioned in the text is located at the end of the volume. In conclusion, despite the absence of a chronological chart at the beginning of the volume that would have been helpful to the reader, Gilibert's book is a solid work that embeds a traditional art historical perspective into a more dynamic way at looking at the relationship between visual art and archaeological contexts in the process of reconstructing ancient ceremonial performances. This perspective is very innovative, especially for the study of ancient Near Eastern societies, and gives a multidimensional perspective on archaeological material that is now envisioned as part of a broader network of signifiers in which the material culture, the landscape, and the architecture are all connected in the cognitive schemata of the ancient people.

2012.01.31

2012-01-21T16:29:00.001-05:00

Olivier Hekster, Ted Kaizer (ed.), Frontiers in the Roman World: Proceedings of the Ninth Workshop of the International Network Impact of Empire (Durham, 16-19 April 2009). Impact of Empire, 13. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011. Pp. xi, 378. ISBN 9789004201194. $178.00.

Reviewed by Everett L. Wheeler, Duke University (ewheeler@duke.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

In the shadow of Hadrian's Wall two congresses of 2009 discussed Roman frontiers: an "Impact of Empire" workshop at Durham in April, here reviewed, and the XXIst International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies at Newcastle in August, whose acta remain in limbo.¹ Both groups—in theory at least—espouse an interdisciplinary approach to frontier studies, although recent Limes Congresses have largely forsaken their original multi-disciplinary roots for a predominantly archaeological approach. Epigraphers and historians are now rarities, contrary to the intentions of that congress's "founding fathers." The Durham workshop's published program featured 35 presentations, promising a varied program potentially of greater interest than that of the Newcastle group, but only 20 of those papers appear in the volume. Expectations of enlightenment are largely unfulfilled. Four of the 20 papers (Richardson, Hilali, Vervaet, Foubert) essentially excerpt or recycle larger works already in print or soon to appear. Three of the four papers with detailed geo-political aspects of frontiers (Hilali on North Africa, Strobel on Alpine passes, Lewin on the southern theater of the Near East) lack maps—an absurdity that the editors should have corrected.

The Newcastle group, however, knows what a frontier is; the Durham workshop is unsure. The Durham editors discern five categories of papers, specified only in the Preface without formal division of the contents into parts: first, changes in language reflecting changes in mentality (Richardson, Drijvers, Benoist); second, consequences of provincial borders for inhabitants of the borderlands (da Costa, Nappo/Zerbini, Hingley/Hartis, Hilali, Schörner); third, religious activity (Grijalvo, Lozano, Dirven, Evers); fourth, shifting frontiers (Strobel, Lewin, Vervaet, Ñaco de Hoyo et al., Cosme); and fifth, people crossing frontiers (Nicols, Verboven, Foubert). Geographical coverage includes the southern theater of the Near East (Dirven, Lewin), Palestine/Arabia (da Costa), Egypt (Nappo/Zerbini), North Africa (Hilali, Evers), the Alpine region (Strobel), the Lower Rhine (Cosme), Britain (Hingley/Hartis), and the Aegean (Ñaco de Hoyo et al.). Missing are the Middle and Lower Danube, the Black Sea and the Caucasus, Anatolia, and the Euphrates north of Syrian Sura—a rather large hole in the Empire's borders.

Fashionably, the Durham workshop emphasizes the multiple types of "frontier." Religious, cultural, administrative, economic, and ideological boundaries are considered in addition to the geo-political-military demarcations associated with the Newcastle group. Thus the editors (vii), whose logic escapes this reviewer, assert the self-evident relevance of all papers to the workshop's theme and abstain from defining "frontier"—an attempt to render coherent an incoherent collection. Ñaco de Hoyo et al. on the conflicts of elites and demos within Greek cities during the Mithridatic wars, Verboven on collegia of resident aliens in Roman ports, and Foubert on wives accompanying husbands in provincial service, although the latter two offer interesting papers, dubiously manipulate the word "frontier."² In contrast, Benoist's musings on extensions of the pomerium and the Empire's universal pretensions ponder borders without mustering a scholarly argument. Evers's astute treatment of the Donatist controversy, valuably assessing the archaeological evidence, overthrows some current interpretations. Yet does this paper really belong in a volume of frontier studies, where its import may be lost to posterity? Does the shotgun approach to a conceptual study of "frontier" yield progress?

The fashion for expanding conferences on frontiers from geo-political and military aspects, the Limes Congress model, to inclusion of any type of "frontier" dates at least to the mid-1990s with a Late Roman frontiers conference at the University of Kansas.³ Here "end of Empire" issues involving territory could be combined with questions of periodization and transformation of culture, thus obscuring the subtext of Late Antique specialists' justifying their claim to study of a distinct period. In theory, treating the universal concept of frontier should produce results relevant to geo-political borders for the traditional Limesforscher. The geo-political sense of frontier is, after all, its basic meaning; other usages reflect metonymy or metaphor. Admittedly the universal approach generates more varied themes, but results in discussions of apples and oranges without advancement in the study of fruit, particularly as such collections of papers rarely pinpoint what progress in study of the universal concept has occurred or how such "progress" improves understanding of geo-political borders. The absence of such conclusions in this volume and others is significant.

An alleged "discovery" in the 1990s that a frontier is really a zone of interaction and not a line, with a now hackneyed berating (explicit or implied) of the Limes Congresses, misrepresents Limesforschung and what its practitioners really believe(d).⁴ Such views, reasserted in several papers of this collection, essentially beat a dead horse. The semantic quagmire of distinguishing frontier, border, boundary, etc, whether in English (both American and British) or other languages, should not obscure that students of borderlands have always found them interesting because of their mixture of cultures and Roman efforts to deal with other states or non-Roman populations on both sides of the Romans' "fence," if one was erected. Attribution to Limesforscher of a belief in a frontier exclusively as a "line" is a gross exaggeration and ignores attention to religion, trade, and daily life in many Limes Congress acta. After all, the Limes Congresses (begun in 1949 and to be continued in Bulgaria in 2012), one of the oldest periodic conventions in ancient studies, inspired the universal approach, which cannot divorce itself from geo-political aspects. A current scholarly impatience, however, to understand the "why" of frontiers should not marginalize military concerns of Roman frontiers, of which the material remains are legitimate objects of historical, epigraphic, and archaeological study. It can be conceded, however, that Limes Congress acta too often present preliminary excavation reports instead of reflections on broader issues.

Two papers from the Durham workshop relate to this discussion. The debate of line vs. zone underlies Drijvers's discussion of the word limes in Ammianus Marcellinus, whereby yet another nail is driven in the coffin of Isaac's view that limes denoted a Late Roman administrative district, not a fortified line. Not all of Drijvers's concessions to Isaac's point for the plural limites are indisputable. Even the word's plural can be ambiguous. He does show that Ammianus could use the singular limes for a fortified border and even river frontiers. The point, however, is not as novel as the author's apparent ignorance of the relevant bibliography supposes. Isaac's views were already disputed.⁵ Hingley and Hartis, in all the obtuse jargonese of the now modish theoretical archaeology, and inspired by current hairsplitting about Roman identity, suggest that Hadrian's Wall should be seen as a confession of Roman defeat, a failure to incorporate properly the natives of central and northern Britain. The authors rightly assert that new details about the Wall's construction will not explain why the Wall was built, although they omit that modifications to the Wall over time can reveal changes in policy. Curiously, the authors' contextualization of the Wall in a lack of Roman materials found in civilian sites to the south, from which they infer the natives' non-acculturation, ignores that the Wall's erection followed hostilities requiring the dispatch of additional forces to Britain.⁶ Nor can it be demonstrated that Hadrian conducted the type of demographic and socio-economic survey of the area their view assumes, unless it be conjectured that construction of the Wall was a local decision without the emperor's input. Debate about the why of the Wall will continue.

Only two papers (besides Verboven) exploit documentary sources. Nicols briefly surveys the practice of hospitium, especially as seen in tessarae and tabulae from Western provinces, and notes that hospitality and patron/client relationships were not mutually exclusive, although precise details remain unclear. Nappo and Zerbini examine the post of quintanesis in the ostraca from Berenike. The existence of this post (civilian or military), collectors of the quintana, a tax on merchants within a Roman military camp, leads to the suggestion that the Eastern Desert of Egypt, within which the quintana was paid, was perceived as a collective military zone. Their endorsement of a favorite argument of papyrologists that administrative practices in Egypt reflect the Roman norm rather than an exception seems, however, contradicted by the presence of arabarchs, a Ptolemaic institution, responsible for supervising external trade and collecting taxes. No other province would have arabarchs.

Space permits only brief assessment of other noteworthy papers. Da Costa suggests that circulation of local pottery can be used to determine the location of provincial borders. Her case may work for her example of Palaestina Secunda and Arabia, an area of recent intense fieldwork, but general application elsewhere remains problematic. Could local pottery define a Galatian-Cappadocian border? Despite the misnomer in his title, as the area from Syrian Sura to Arabian Ailia constitutes only the southern theater of the Near East, Lewin offers a excellent survey updating recent work for the period 284-565 and endorses both a planned reorganization of this segment of the East by Diocletian and a real threat to this area from Arab tribes, especially in the 5^th c. Strobel eventually proposes to re-date the creation of the provinces of Raetia and Noricum to 15 B.C. in the immediate aftermath of that year's Alpine campaign, although the reader is initially injected in medias res into a detailed treatment of Alpine passes without warning the reader of what the paper proposes to do. Again, editorial laxity is evident. Cosme examines the career of Iulius Civilis with new hypotheses on the causes of the Batavian revolt of 69. Dirven shares the palm with Evers on the Donatists for the most stimulating paper on religion. In attacking the notion of a common culture of Syrian-Mesopotamian cities, she stresses the religious differences between Hatra and Palmyra. One wonders, however, if she does not make too much of a contrast between Hatra as a religious center and a Palmyra as a caravan city? Was Hatra's wealth exclusively from religious sources? An effort to discount Zoroastrian influence at Hatra may also be too adventurous, inter alia in seeing the so-called "Square Building" of the Great Temenos as the site of a dynastic fire, common among Parthian vassal-kings, and not a fire-temple. Zoroastrian fire-temples were not exclusively Sasanid and Dirven seems unaware of Hellenistic Zoroastrian fire-temples in Georgian Iberia, Media Atropatene, and elsewhere. ⁷

In sum, as an acta of diffuse frontier studies this collection disappoints. Papers of individual interest, given the publisher's price, would best be used via a university library's copy.

Notes:

1.   The reviewer confesses participation in the Newcastle congress.
2.   The claim of Ñaco de Hoyo et al. to discuss an "ultimate frontier," denoting a new increased level of violence in the Mithridatic wars, is asserted without statistical or comparative evidence as proof; Foubert elaborates on F.S. L'Hoir, "Tacitus and Women's Usurpation of Power," CW 88 (1994) 12-17.
3.   R. Mathisen/H. Sivan, eds., Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity (Aldershot 1996).
4.   "Discovery" of a frontier as a "zone" is often associated with C.R. Whittaker's Les frontières de l'empire romain, tr. C. Goudineau (Paris 1989) and Frontiers of the Roman Empire: A Social and Economic Study (Baltimore 1994).
5.   B. Isaac, "The Meaning of the Terms Limes and Limitanei," JRS 78 (1988) 125-47; contra, E.L. Wheeler, " Methodological Limits and the Mirage of Roman Strategy," Journal of Military History (1993) 7-41, 215-40; cf. "Roman Treaties with Parthia: Völkerrecht or Power Politics?" in P. Freeman et al., eds., Limes XVIII (Oxford 2002) 287-92; C. Zuckerman, "Sur le dispositif frontalier en Arménie, le limes et son évolution, sous le Bas-Empire," Historia (1998) 108-28; B. Rankov, ""Do Rivers Make Good Frontiers?" in Z. Visy, ed., Limes XIX (Pécs 2005) 175-181. Drijvers relies on M. Graham, News and Frontier Consciousness in the Late Roman Empire (Ann Arbor 2006), although Graham is also unaware of Wheeler, Zuckerman, and (perhaps excusably) Rankov.
6.   See A.R. Birley, "A New Tombstone from Vindolanda," Britannia 29 (1998) 299-306, and "Der Hadrianswall," in A. Nunn, ed., Mauern als Grenzen (Mainz 2009) 109-25.
7.   For bibliography see E.L. Wheeler, review of A. Furtwängler et al., eds., Iberia and Rome: The Excavations of the Palace at Dedoplis Gora and the Roman Influence in the Caucasian Kingdom of Iberia, in Ancient West and East, in press.

2012.01.30

2012-01-19T22:56:00.001-05:00

Hans Beck, Hans-Ulrich Wiemer (ed.), Feiern und Erinnern: Geschichtsbilder im Spiegel antiker Feste. Studien zur Alten Geschichte Bd. 12. Berlin: Verlag Antike, 2009. Pp. 240. ISBN 9783938032343. €54.90.

Reviewed by Pauline Schmitt Pantel, Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne (schmitt-pantel@wanadoo.fr)

Version at BMCR home site

[Authors and titles are listed at the end of the review.]

Le souvenir et la mémoire sont au coeur des débats des théoriciens de la culture et ont donné lieu à de nombreuses publications chez les historiens. Les études ici rassemblées rattachent ces thèmes à celui de la fête, car dans les sociétés anciennes un lien étroit existe entre eux. Le livre commence par un état de la recherche dans le domaine du souvenir et de la mémoire en sciences sociales. L'historiographie du sujet est étudiée depuis les travaux de Maurice Halbwachs et sa réflexion sur les usages sociaux du passé jusqu'à l'entreprise de Pierre Nora qui a donné naissance à la publication des « Lieux de mémoire ». L'apport pour le monde antique de Jan Assmann avec la notion de « mémoire culturelle » est rappelé ainsi que les travaux nombreux et souvent collectifs des dix dernières années.

Le thème de la fête est lui aussi replacé dans une perspective historiographique, les années 70 marquant l'entrée de la fête dans la recherche historique y compris en histoire ancienne. Les fêtes du monde gréco-romain sont longtemps vues uniquement dans le contexte religieux, comme expression du culte et de la piété individuelle et collective, leur diversité étant souvent attribuée à la multiplicité des divinités et des lieux de culte. Le regard change dans les années 90. Le rôle des fêtes dans la reproduction des groupes sociaux et leur fonction de médiation des représentations collectives du passé sont alors davantage étudiés. L'articulation entre fête et mémoire permet dès lors une réflexion sur le renforcement de la cohérence du groupe par la participation à la célébration d'un souvenir collectif. Une rapide synthèse de l'histoire des fêtes est ensuite proposée pour le monde grec et pour le monde romain.

La présentation du but du livre par Hans Beck et Hans-Ulrich Wiemer est une mise au point historiographique et méthodologique très claire, inscrivant la démarche qui est celle des auteurs dans une problématique contemporaine des sciences sociales. Les contributions qui suivent donnent des exemples précis du lien entre fêtes et mémoire pour le monde grec et pour le monde romain, comblant ainsi en partie l'insuffisance de la recherche sur ce thème mise en lumière par l'introduction.

Les deux premiers articles concernent le monde grec. Hans Beck s'interroge sur les fêtes de la « polis » et la mémoire en prenant d'abord comme exemple les rituels célébrés par les éphèbes qui sont une constante dans les cités. Puis le propos s'élargit à toute fête. Chaque fête a sa propre représentation du passé et contribue à la constitution d'une conscience historique. L'image ainsi créée mélange le passé mythique et le souvenir historique, sans que les Grecs fassent de différences entre les deux. De plus une fête cultuelle existante peut fort bien inscrire dans son rituel une commémoration historique. Les fêtes religieuses, les fêtes historiques et de commémoration contiennent les mêmes éléments et le même schéma de déroulement. L'affinité entre le passé fêté et le culte de la communauté a des conséquences importantes pour la compréhension de l'histoire des citoyens. L'histoire acquiert à travers le culte une autorité propre, elle est entourée d'une aura religieuse.

Hans-Ulrich Wiemer étudie les fêtes réorganisées ou nouvellement créées à l'époque hellénistique en s'arrêtant sur le cas des Leukophryena à Magnésie du Méandre, de la fête en l'honneur d'Artémis à Bargylia, des fêtes de Méssène. La culture politique des cités grecques se transforme profondément au IIème siècle avant J.-C. et cette transformation se traduit aussi dans le domaine des fêtes et des pratiques mémorielles. Les fêtes pour Artémis Leukophryéné à Magnésie du Méandre à la fin du IIIème siècle avant J.-C. en sont un exemple. Dans les réponses d'environ cent cinquante cités, confédérations et royaumes à l'invitation de Magnésie du Méandre, plusieurs arguments sont utilisés pour donner une réponse positive: l'autorité de l'oracle de Delphes qui est à l'origine de la création de la fête, les relations de parenté très anciennes entre certaines communautés remontant à la fondation des cités, et dans un temps plus récent l'aide apportée par Magnésie à différents « états » qui se trouvaient dans des difficultés de tout ordre. Bref, à des considérations religieuses se mêlent des raisons qui s'appuient sur l'histoire mythique et sur l'histoire d'un passé récent. Cette nouvelle création de fête témoigne à la fois de l'ouverture du monde hellénistique et des aléas des conflits incessants qui rendent l'obtention d'une asylie nécessaire à la survie d'une communauté. La réactivation d'une mémoire ancienne répond bien dans ce cas à un but très contemporain, Magnésie du Méandre cherche par le moyen de la reconnaissance tout simplement à vivre en paix.

Les quatre autres articles concernent le monde romain. Rene Pfeilschifter étudie les « Poplifugia », soit la fuite du peuple, une fête mal connue, qui a lieu chaque année à Rome le 5 juillet. Les hommes quittent la ville et un sacrifice a lieu sur le champ de Mars. Plutarque lie cette fête à celle des « Nonae Caprotinae » deux jours plus tard le 7 juillet. Des femmes esclaves qui portent la « stola » des matrones, mendient, se moquent, jouent à se battre, avant de faire un repas avec les femmes libres sous des huttes de figuiers. De nombreuses tentatives d'explications ont été faites depuis le XIX^e siècle qui n'expliquent jamais l'ensemble du rituel. Celle de l'auteur met au centre l'histoire de Philotis et permet de réfléchir à l'articulation des mythes étiologiques avec la société qui les crée et les met en scène.

A partir des textes épigraphiques, Ralf Behrwald montre que le calendrier augustéen destiné à marquer une nouvelle époque scandée par la commémoration des grands moments de son arrivée au pouvoir, n'a pas constitué un cadre unificateur aussi prégnant qu'on ne l'a cru. Dans les « vici » de Rome, dans les « collegia », dans les cités italiennes, des calendriers particuliers sont bâtis à partir d'une sélection de fêtes réalisée par les communautés qui traduit la réaction de l'opinion locale face à la "propagande" centrale et montre les limites de celle-ci. Par la suite la succession des empereurs provoque l'accumulation de fêtes commémoratives et amène à abandonner en partie celles des prédécesseurs, a fortiori les fêtes qui se rattachent à la République. Subsistent cependant toujours les fêtes anniversaires des princes légitimes, et en même temps, symbole fort, l'anniversaire de la naissance de Marc Antoine, comme jour de malheur !

Matthäus Heil analyse l'évolution des jubilés impériaux (« quinquennales », « décennales », « vicennales ») depuis les « vota decennalia » sous Tibère en 34 après J.-C. jusqu'à l'extinction progressive de ces fêtes au VI^e s. Jusqu'à Constantin ces fêtes rappellent, par leurs symboles et leurs rituels, le pouvoir victorieux de l'empereur qui lui permis de conforter l'Empire et qui assure ainsi sa légitimité. Après Constantin, sous l'Empire chrétien, les célébrations perdurent encore un temps, mais la fête se vide de son contenu, l'insistance sur le thème de la victoire disparaît, à mesure que la légitimé impériale trouve sa source dans la vigueur et l'orthodoxie de la foi plus que dans l'action militaire au service de l'Empire.

Mischa Meier s'intéresse aux « venationes ». Lorsqu'en 499 l'empereur Anastase les interdit un temps, il cherche à faire des économies et à compenser les pertes de rentrées fiscales causées par la suppression de l'impôt du chrysargyre. Mais il a pu aussi penser que cette mesure, en concentrant tous les spectacles désormais sur l'hippodrome, faisait jouer à son profit la symbolique cosmique dont ce lieu était porteur et rappelait opportunément les traditions romuléennes qui faisaient des courses l'occasion de la réconciliation entre le peuple et les anciens rois.

Chaque article est suivi d'une bibliographie. Ce livre est plus qu'un recueil d'articles. Il propose une nouvelle lecture du rôle des fêtes dans la construction de la mémoire des communautés politiques du monde antique, chaque analyse particulière venant s'inscrire dans une problématique générale clairement présentée.

Titres des chapitres et auteurs

Hans Beck/ Hans-Ulrich Wiemer : Feiern und Erinnern – eine Einleitung
Hans Beck: Ephebie – Ritual – Geschichte. Polisfest und historische Erinnerung im klassischen Griechenland
Hans-Ulrich Wiemer: Neue Feste – neue Geschichtsbilder? Zur Erinnerungsfunktion städtischer Feste im Hellenismus
Rene Pfeilschifter: Die Römer auf der Flucht. Republikanische Feste und Sinnstiftung durch aitiologischen Mythos
Ralf Behrwald: Festkalender der frühen Kaiserzeit als Medien der Erinnerung
Matthäus Heil: Die Jubilarferien der römischen Kaiser
Mischa Meier: Die Abschaffung der venationes durch Anastasios im Jahr 499 und die‚ komische' Bedeutung des Hippodroms

2012.01.29

2012-01-19T22:34:00.001-05:00

R. W. Burgess, Chronicles, Consuls, and Coins: Historiography and History in the Later Roman Empire. Variorum collected studies series, CS984. Farnham; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Variorum, 2011. Pp. 364. ISBN 9781409428206. $149.95.

Reviewed by Richard Flower, University of Sheffield (richard.flower@sheffield.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

[Table of Contents is listed below.]

This volume spans almost twenty-five years of scholarship by Richard Burgess, who will be familiar to any late- antique historians who have needed to consult chronicles or consularia, most notably the works of Eusebius, Jerome, Hydatius and the so-called Consularia Constantinopolitana. Like other books in the Variorum series, Chronicles, Consuls, and Coins is a collection of reprinted pieces, and thus represents a challenge to the reviewer, since all fifteen chapters have already appeared in print and many are well known and frequently cited. I shall not, therefore, provide an account of every chapter's argument, but shall instead largely restrict my comments to the impact of the pieces, and the contribution and utility of this volume in its own right. A full table of contents is given at the end of the review, including details of the original publication of each chapter.

The volume is divided into two sections, entitled 'Historiography' and 'History'. The first concerns the reconstruction and use of a number of texts important for our understanding of the history of the later Roman empire, while the second is a collection of 'historical studies' ranging from the early-fourth to the early-sixth centuries. This division, however, is not rigid. The chapters that make up the second section rely heavily on detailed analysis of ancient literary, numismatic and epigraphic evidence, as well as the same type of methodical Quellenforschung that lies at the heart of the pieces in the first section. Conversely, even when his focus is on the origins or dating of a particular text, Burgess still often broadens his scope to consider the wider historical impact of his research. For example, in chapter I, the re-dating of the Chronici canones and Historia ecclesiastica of Eusebius of Caesarea to the final period of the Great Persecution in 311 allows him to argue, contra T. D. Barnes, that Eusebius was 'an apologist first and a scholar second' (I 497).¹

The first three chapters concern the Chronici canones of Eusebius and their emendation, translation and continuation by Jerome, a subject which Burgess also explored in his 1999 work Studies in Eusebian and Post- Eusebian Chronography.² In particular, chapter II, dating from 2006, contains reflections on this attempt to reconstruct the Greek text of Eusebius' original, as well as presenting some possible new approaches to this task, even though Burgess admits the impossibility of ever achieving it with any great degree of accuracy (II 37). This piece is therefore a useful addendum to Burgess' earlier treatment of this topic. Its inclusion in this volume should also make it more readily accessible to many late-antique historians, since its original place of publication (the Journal of the Canadian Society for Syriac Studies), is probably a periodical with which few are acquainted (and which, for instance, is certainly taken by only a small number of university libraries in the U.K.). The same might also be said of chapter III, which originally appeared in the marginally better known Ancient History Bulletin. It is, however, probably the piece in this volume which deserves the broadest readership. Described by Burgess in his introduction as the 'Dummy's guide to Jerome' (vii), it incorporates some of the conclusions of chapters I and II and presents them for a non-specialist readership of classicists and ancient historians, whose acquaintance with Jerome's Chronicle is likely to involve little more than mining it for 'facts'. Burgess begins by outlining the use and abuse of this text by generations of scholars in search of the birth and death dates of Catullus and Sallust, before moving on from this illustration to provide an extensive user guide to the Chronicle and its best critical edition, describing for the unwary traveller the many pitfalls and false tracks that lie along their way.³ This piece therefore serves as a salutary warning of the dangers of either dipping into complex late-antique texts or relying too heavily on other people's footnotes.

Chapters IV–VII concern the lost work of Roman history known as the Kaisergeschichte (KG), which is believed to lie behind a number of surviving texts.⁴ The first two essays in this section follow the same method of presenting parallel passages from a range of late-antique historians in order to determine the degree to which they represent witnesses to a lost common source. Proceeding in this fashion, Burgess argues firstly that Jerome employed the KG, rather than Eutropius, and secondly that the terminus of the lost work should be placed in 357, rather than 337. Chapter VI is a brief discussion of the direct use of the KG by the fifth-century author Polemius Silvius, together with a tentative suggestion that its author was the obscure figure Eusebius Nanneticus. However, in the supplementary notes Burgess steps back from both these positions, as well as taking the opportunity to respond to some criticisms of the article by Roger Green.⁵

Chapter VII employs the same method as IV–V to explore similarities and differences between accounts of the period 357–78, coming to the conclusion that the KG went through a number of versions, dated tentatively to 358, 364 and 378. As Burgess himself acknowledges, this is an awkward reconstruction, but one which seeks to provide an explanation for the confusing evidence. The piece also contains a forceful criticism of those who seek to identify the lost Annales of Nicomachus Flavianus as the source behind a number of surviving texts.⁶ The reprint of this chapter is, however, incomplete. As Burgess states in his supplementary note, this article originally contained his 'biggest mistake', namely the view that the chapter titles in Ammianus Marcellinus were the work of a late Roman writer, rather than the seventeenth-century editor Adrien de Valois, as has been explored by Gavin Kelly.⁷ In order to deal with this error, pages 186 and 187 have been omitted from this reprint, while the final paragraph of 185 now presents a rewritten version of the end of the original 187, in order to provide a smooth link to the start of 188. While the reasons behind this excision and emendation are perfectly reasonable, these changes do compromise the utility of a Variorum volume as a set of verbatim reprints (including original pagination), especially since other revisions are supplied through supplementary notes, rather than interventions in the text.

Chapter IX signals the move from the 'historiographical' to the 'historical' articles, the first four of which are united by their methodology. Each seeks to challenge an accepted or suggested description of a sequence of events by offering a detailed analysis of the surviving accounts, thereby attempting to trace the relationships between them and the development of different versions of the story. Of particular note are chapters X and XII: the first of these is the most recent of the articles in this volume, exploring the circumstances of the accession of Constantine's sons in 337 and the associated massacre of their male relatives. This piece is especially innovative in its close analysis of the numismatic evidence, which is used both to demonstrate the imperial brothers' hostility towards their fellow-caesar Dalmatius during the final years of Constantine's reign and also to attempt to provide a more accurate chronology for the events of this tumultuous period. Despite having been published relatively recently, this piece has already influenced more general accounts of Constantine's reign, including the recent treatment by T. D. Barnes.⁸ Chapter XII also deals with an imperial accession, this time that of Marcian in 450, which has often been presented as having been orchestrated by Pulcheria, sister of the deceased Theodosius II. By tracing the evolution of 'official' and anti- Chalcedonian explanations, as well as their later elaborations, Burgess seeks to replace the traditional account by making the military commander Aspar the key figure, as he was in Leo's accession seven years later. While this, like the reconstructions of events in the other chapters in this section, is necessarily speculative and thus open to challenge by alternative accounts, it demonstrates clearly the problems posed by over-reliance on certain received 'sources'.⁹

The reprints of two other pieces in the volume are also particularly useful because the supplementary notes provide important additions or correctives to the original pieces. Chapter XIII, which formed a response to a piece by Ralph Mathisen on the ephemeral emperor Avitus, was the subject of a response in turn from Mathisen.¹⁰ The supplementary notes here present a response to the response to the response, as well as an attempt to clarify the problematic regnal years preserved in Hydatius. Extensive addenda and corrigenda are also provided for the discussion of quinquennial vota in chapter XIV, mostly as a result of the material published in volume X of Roman Imperial Coinage.¹¹ While the overall thesis of the piece remains the same, those who wish to consult (and reference) this article should be directed to this revised version.

Overall, in gathering together these fifteen chapters, this book provides a clear illustration of Richard Burgess' contribution to late Roman history. Unlike some Variorum volumes, it does not reprint any articles originally published in hard-to-find edited collections, although it should serve to bring some more obscure pieces to a wider audience. In addition, the supplementary notes are particularly useful in updating the arguments and conclusions of some of the earlier pieces in the light of more recent scholarship, both by Burgess himself and by others. Many of the papers are in conversation with Burgess' earlier monographs on chronicles and chronography, as well as the forthcoming Mosaics of Time, jointly authored with Michael Kulikowski, and this volume deserves to take its place – and to be read – alongside them.¹²

I. The dates and editions of Eusebius' Chronici canones and Historia ecclesiastica from Journal of Theological Studies n.s. 48 (1997), 471–504
II. A chronological prolegomenon to reconstructing Eusebius' Chronici canones: the evidence of Ps- Dionysius (the Zuqnin Chronicle) from Journal of the Canadian Society for Syriac Studies 6 (2006), 29– 38
III. Jerome explained: an introduction to his Chronicle and a guide to its use from Ancient History Bulletin 16 (2002), 1–32
IV. Jerome and the Kaisergeschichte from Historia 44 (1995), 349–69
V. On the date of the Kaisergeschichte from Classical Philology 90 (1995), 111–28
VI. Principes cum tyrannis: two studies on the Kaisergeschichte and its tradition from Classical Quarterly 43 (1993), 491–500
VII. A common source for Jerome, Eutropius, Festus, Ammianus, and the Epitome de Caesaribus between 358 and 378, along with further thoughts on the date and nature of the Kaisergeschichte from Classical Philology 100 (2005), 166–92
VIII. Eutropius v.c. magister memoriae? from Classical Philology 96 (2001), 76–81
IX. Ἀχυρών or Προάστειον? The location and circumstances of Constantine's death from Journal of Theological Studies n.s. 50 (1999), 153–61
X. The summer of blood: the 'great massacre' of 337 and the promotion of the sons of Constantine from Dumbarton Oaks Papers 62 (2008), 5–51
XI. The Passio S. Artemii, Philostorgius, and the dates of the invention and translations of the relics of Sts Andrew and Luke from Analecta Bollandiana 121 (2003), 5–36
XII. The accession of Marcian in the light of Chalcedonian apologetic and monophysite polemic from Byzantinische Zeitschrift 86/87 (1993/1994), 47–68
XIII. The third regnal year of Eparchius Avitus: a reply from Classical Philology 82 (1987), 335–45
XIV. Quinquennial vota and the imperial consulship in the fourth and fifth centuries, 337–511 from Numismatic Chronicle 148 (1988), 77–96 + 6 plates
XV. 'Non duo Antonini sed duo Augusti': the consuls of 161 and the origins and traditions of the Latin consular fasti of the Roman Empire from Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 132 (2000), 259–90
Supplementary Notes 1–10
Index 1–5

Notes:

1.   For the contrary view, see T. D. Barnes, 'The editions of Eusebius' Ecclesiastical History', Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 21 (1980), 191–201; id. Constantine and Eusebius, Cambridge, MA, 1981.
2.   R. W. Burgess, Studies in Eusebian and Post-Eusebian Chronography, Historia Einzelschriften 135, Stuttgart.
3.   Burgess' recommended edition is R. Helm (ed.), Eusebius Caesariensis, Werke: Band 7: Die Chronik des Hieronymus. Hieronymi Chronicon, 2nd edn, GCS 47, Berlin, 1956 (reprinted with an extra preface in 1984).
4.   See also Alan Cameron, The Last Pagans of Rome, Oxford, 2011, 665–8 for a recent consideration of the KG, with approving comments about Burgess' work in this area.
5.   See R. P. C. Green, 'Ausonius' Fasti and Caesares revisited', Classical Quarterly n.s. 49 (1999), 573–8.
6.   Burgess' conclusions have recently been reinforced by the detailed exploration of this issue in Alan Cameron, The Last Pagans of Rome, Oxford, 2011, 627–90.
7.   G. A. J. Kelly, 'Adrien de Valois and the chapter headings in Ammianus Marcellinus', Classical Philology 104 (2009), 233–42.
8.   T. D. Barnes, Constantine: Dynasty, religion and power in the later Roman empire, Chichester, 2011, 17–18.
9.   For example, C. Zuckerman, 'L'empire d'Orient et les Huns: notes sur Priscus', Travaux et memoirs 12 (1994), 159–82 argues (at 169–76) that the accession was the result of an alliance between Aspar and Flavius Zeno. A. D. Lee, in his piece in the Cambridge Ancient History volume XIV, remains agnostic between these two accounts, but shares their scepticism regarding the claim that Pulcheria played a leading role.
10.   R. W. Mathisen, 'The third regnal year of Eparchius Avitus', Classical Philology 80 (1985), 326–35; id. 'The third regnal year of Eparchius Avitus: the interpretation of the evidence', in id. Studies in the history, literature and society of late antiquity, Amsterdam, 1991, 163–6.
11.   J. P. C. Kent, The Roman Imperial Coinage, volume X: the Divided Empire and the Fall of the Western Parts, 395–491, London, 1994.
12.   R. W. Burgess, The Chronicle of Hydatius and the Consularia Constantinopolitana: two contemporary accounts of the final years of the Roman Empire, Oxford, 1993; id. Studies in Eusebian and Post-Eusebian Chronography, Historia Einzelschriften 135, Stuttgart; R. W. Burgess and M. Kulikowski, Mosaics of Time: The Latin chronicle traditions from the first century BC to the sixth century AD, Turnhout (first volume due for publication in 2012).

2012.01.28

2012-01-19T22:16:00.001-05:00

Françoise Petit, Lucas Van Rompay, Jos J. S. Weitenberg (ed.), Eusèbe d'Émèse, Commentaire de la Genèse. Texte arménien de l'édition de Venise (1980); fragments grecs et syriaques. Traditio exegetica Graeca, 15. Leuven; Walpole, MA: Peeters, 2011. Pp. xxxix, 442. ISBN 9789042923133. €94.00.

Reviewed by Mark DelCogliano, University of St. Thomas (mark.delcogliano@stthomas.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Eusebius of Emesa was a fourth-century bishop, exegete, and theologian. His extant writings include a collection of homilies, biblical commentaries, and an abundance of homiletic and exegetical fragments. Little of his corpus exists in the original Greek; most of it has been preserved in Latin, Syriac, and Armenian. Eusebius is somewhat of an enigmatic figure. While long known for his connections with major players in the fourth-century church (such as Eusebius of Caesarea and George of Laodicea), his theology does not fit neatly into the traditional categories used to analyze the Trinitarian controversies of the fourth century (e.g. Arian, Nicene, etc.). Nor is his style of exegesis easily classified, as we shall see, though he is often associated with the so-called "Antiochene" school of exegesis. Eusebius is important not least of all because he problematizes the simplistic (and downright unhelpful) labels sometimes used to pigeonhole fourth century churchmen. And more significantly, his uniqueness enriches our understanding of the complex contours of theology and exegesis in the fourth century.

The pioneering work on Eusebius was done in the late 1940s and early 1950s by É. M. Buytaert, who produced an edition of the homilies preserved in Latin and many homiletic fragments.¹ While shorter studies occasionally appeared thereafter, it is only in recent years that interest in this under-studied figure grown. R. Bas ter Haar Romeny's 1997 study of his commentary on Genesis situated Eusebius at the forefront of the Antiochene school of exegesis.² Yet it is 2011 that surely marks a turning point in the study of Eusebius. Robert E. Winn's recent monograph on Eusebius has vastly improved our understanding of Eusebius and his place in the fourth-century church.³ And now the volume under review here provides scholars with all the necessary resources for studying Eusebius's interpretation of Genesis.

Eusebius's commentary on Genesis is extant in its original language only in fragments preserved in the Greek exegetical catena and in Procopius of Gaza's Epitome from the early sixth century. Yet there is also extant a translation of the entire commentary into Armenian that dates from the early fifth century. A Syriac translation of the commentary was made around the same time. Though it is no longer extant, there are fragments preserved in a ninth-century commentary by Isho'dad of Merv. The present volume reassembles the four branches of the tradition, providing new editions of each that are accompanied by annotated French translations on facing pages, in this order: the whole commentary in its ancient Armenian translation, the Greek fragments from the catena and Procopius, and the Syriac fragments from Isho'dad. Thus this volume enables for the first time a comprehensive view of Eusebius's commentary on Genesis. The meticulous research of the three editors has resulted in a truly remarkable achievement that will be used with great benefit in all future studies of Eusebius. It is a model of what an edition of a fragmentary text preserved in multiple languages can and should be.

In the introduction, the editors situate Eusebius's commentary on Genesis in its original context as part of a larger exegetical project focused on the Octateuch. In the manuscripts, this Octateuch commentary is ascribed to Cyril of Alexandria. But in 1923 it was re-assigned to Eusebius by Vahan Hovhannessian, a judgment that several other scholars have confirmed since then. The 1980 edition of the Armenian Octateuch commentary published posthumously by Hovhannessian is the basis for the edition printed in this volume.⁴ In the estimation of the editors, the Armenian version can be regarded as the work of Eusebius himself, since the translators did little to retouch it and made insertions only rarely. However, there are some divergences between the original Greek and the Armenian translation when a comparison is possible. These differences are variously explained (see p. xxxii).

One recurrent theme in the Introduction is to what degree Eusebius can be considered part of the Antiochene school of exegesis. Unfortunately, we cannot be certain from whom Eusebius learned the exegetical art, note the editors, even though he was closely associated with Eusebius of Caesarea, and studied in Alexandria and Antioch. But his influence on Diodore of Tarsus is undeniable, they admit, even if we cannot be sure whether the relationship between the two was personal or purely literary. The editors also discuss some noteworthy features of Eusebius's commentary on Genesis which bear upon the question of his association with the Antiochenes. First of all, Eusebius likes to cite the biblical text in Hebrew and Syriac. While he probably did not know Hebrew that well, he appears to have been bilingual in Greek and Syriac. Incidentally, Eusebius's quotations from the Syriac Bible constitute one of the earliest witnesses to the Peshitta. The editors also problematize the views of those who have noted the similarities between Eusebius and Diodore in their commentaries on Genesis and accordingly linked Eusebius with the Antiochene school of exegesis by pointing out some notable differences between Eusebius and typical Antiochene exegetes such as Diodore and Theodore of Mopsuestia. They elaborate upon four major differences: (1) Eusebius does not exhibit the systematic approach of the Antiochenes; (2) Eusebius does not use the same technical exegetical vocabulary; (3) Eusebius is not explicitly motivated by opposition to Origenian allegorism; and (4) Eusebius gives far more prominence to Hebrew and Syriac readings than the Antiochenes. Hence, the editors suggest that Eusebius's connections with the Antiochene school should not be pushed too far, as has been done by some recent scholars.⁵ To further buttress this position, the editors also compare Eusebius's comments on Genesis to those of Ephrem. They find several similarities between the two which perhaps shows indebtedness to the same Syriac traditions, some of which seem to be originally Jewish. Finally, the editors note that in the commentary Eusebius proceeds by discussing textual readings and variants and by investigating exegetical problems, often employing a question-and- answer approach. And so, Eusebius's indebtedness to Syriac exegetical traditions and his dialectical method of interpretation further separate him from the Antiochenes. Even if they seem to recognize the continued validity of the category, the editors' refusal to place Eusebius squarely within the Antiochene school inadvertently makes a significant contribution to the ongoing debate sparked by some scholars of patristic exegesis who argue that "Antiochene" and "Alexandrian" as labels for "schools" of exegesis are misguided and should be dropped.⁶ In the judgment of the editors, what makes Eusebius's commentary on Genesis unique is the fact that he is neither Syriac exegete like Ephrem nor an Antiochene exegete like Diodore, but a blend of both worlds. And so, just as the Trinitarian theology of Eusebius eludes easy categorization, so too does his exegesis.

In addition to the general introduction, there are more technical introductions to the Armenian commentary (p. 3-20) as well as to the Greek and Syriac fragments of the commentary (p. 183-192 and 367-371). Each helpfully discusses the manuscript evidence, previous editions and their particularities, and departures from the previous editions found in this volume. (The Greek fragments from Procopius edited here for the first time.) Based on their analysis of the style and language of the Armenian commentary the editors argue that the translation of the commentary into Armenian was done in the first half of the fifth century from the Greek original (and not from the Syriac translation, as some previous scholars have contended). They also maintain that, while Procopius utilized Eusebian texts from the Greek exegetical catena, he also quoted from the original Greek commentary. In fact, more original Greek fragments are preserved by Procopius than by the catena. Finally, the Eusebian fragments preserved by Isho'dad are anonymous, but have been identified as Eusebian based on comparisons with the Armenian commentary and the Greek fragments. It is possible that Isho'dad himself used a collection of extracts in which the Eusebian texts were anonymous. There is ample evidence for the existence of a Syriac translation of the commentary long before Isho'dad era, from which extracts were presumably taken and later used by Isho'dad.

In gathering together the four branches of the tradition, there is inevitably some overlap. The editors provide a helpful comparative chart (pp. 419-424) which clearly indicates the points of contact among the traditions for the interpretation of each verse of Genesis. Also supplied is a detailed scriptural index and an exhaustive index of proper names. Both the chart and the indices will prove quite helpful for those investigating the exegesis of particular verses or biblical figures and places. The care taken to compile these scholarly aides is in line with the editors' overall intention to provide researchers with all the necessary resources to facilitate the study of Eusebius of Emesa's exegesis of Genesis. Through their reassembling of the four branches of the tradition, their editions and translations, and these scholarly aids, they have succeeded admirably in this endeavor.

Notes:

1.   É. M. Buytaert, L'héritage littéraire d'Eusèbe d'Émèse. Étude critique et historique. Textes, (Louvain: Bureaux de Muséon, 1949); Eusèbe d'Émèse. Discours conservés en latin. Tome premier: La collection de Troyes (Discours I à XVII); Tome second: La collection de Sirmond (Discours XVIII à XXIX) (Louvain: Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense, 1953-1957).
2.   R. Bas ter Haar Romeny, A Syrian in Greek Dress: The Use of Greek, Hebrew, and Syriac Biblical Texts in Eusebius of Emesa's Commentary on Genesis (Leuven: Peeters, 1997).
3.   Robert E. Winn, Eusebius of Emesa: Church and Theology in the Mid-Fourth Century (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011).
4.   V. Hovhannessian, ed., Commentaire de l'Octateuch (Venice: St. Lazare, 1980).
5.   E.g. Nils Arne Pedersen, Demonstrative Proof in Defence of God: A Study of Titus of Bostra's Contra Manichaeos—The Work's Sources, Aims and Relation to its Contemporary Theology, Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 56 (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2004), esp. 126-146.
6.   E.g. Frances Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); John O'Keefe, "'A Letter that Killeth': Toward a Reassessment of Antiochene Exegesis, or Diodore, Theodore, and Theodoret on the Psalms," Journal of Early Christian Studies 8 (2000): 83-103.

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