Bryn Mawr Classical Review

Duncan Fishwick, Cult Places and Cult Personnel in the Roman Empire. Variorum collected studies series, CS1039. Farnham; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Variorum, 2014. Pp. xii, 378. ISBN 9781472414731. $170.00.

Reviewed by Nicolas Laubry, Université Paris-Est Créteil Val-de-Marne (nicolas.laubry@u-pec.fr)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Ce recueil d'articles, qui fait suite à un premier publié il y a deux ans chez le même éditeur,¹ regroupe 21 textes écrits entre 1979 et 2011 consacrés à la religion romaine et au culte de l'empereur dans l'Occident romain. Ceux-ci s'organisent autour de deux thématiques principales : d'une part—et principalement—les lieux de culte, leur topographie, leur aspect ou leur statut ; d'autre part, les acteurs du culte impérial.

L'auteur revendique une méthode qu'il qualifie d'« inductive » et la perspective est délibérement analytique. Ces études de cas reposent sur une connaissance poussée des dossiers et du fonctionnement de la religion romaine, qui ont conduit l'auteur à élaborer des schémas d'interprétation, notamment sur certains développements du culte, qui sous-tendent une partie des démonstrations contenues dans ces articles. Pour les trouver de manière plus synthétique et explicite, on devra donc se reporter à la somme The Imperial Cult in the Latin West.² L'étendue de la matière traitée dans ce recueil interdit toute discussion détaillée du contenu. En voici par conséquent un bref aperçu avant quelques observations plus spécifiques.

Le recueil est organisé géographiquement et les cinq premiers articles sont centrés sur Rome. Le premier reprend la question du statut et des rôles des temples du divin Auguste, sur le forum et sur le Palatin, et conclut que le second était tout à fait secondaire ; vient ensuite une étude sur la statue de César du Panthéon d'Agrippa, que D. Fishwick interprète comme honorifique et non cultuelle, interdisant selon lui l'idée d'une vocation dynastique du temple. Il remet aussi en doute, après d'autres, l'existence d'un temple à Vesta sur le Palatin (III). Le quatrième article, qui s'intéresse aux implications idéologiques du temple de Mars Ultor, est surtout un examen du relief de l'autel de Carthage conservé à Alger et de l'hypothèse qu'il reproduirait le groupe cultuel du temple. Le dernier texte de cet ensemble propose de considérer l'Ara Prouidentiae comme un monument érigé non pour célébrer l'adoption de Tibère, mais, en passant par la confrontation avec un monument de Mérida, comme un autel célébrant le discernement d'Auguste dans le choix de ses successeurs depuis Agrippa.

Suivent deux brèves sections : l'une, sur l'Italie, comporte un examen du texte transcrivant les honneurs décrétés par les Artemisioi de Naples à L. Munatius Hilarianus (AE 1913, 134) que D. Fishwick rapproche, d'une manière un peu spéculative de son aveu même, de ceux rendus aux empereurs. Ce texte est suivi d'un nouvel examen de l'inscription pompéienne de Mamia (CIL X, 816) : comme I. Gradel, il refuse la restitution d'une dédicace au Genius Augusti, remplacé par le Genius coloniae. L'examen de l'ensemble de la documentation lui permet ainsi d'affirmer, en opposition à la thèse de L. R. Taylor, que le culte public du Genius de l'empereur n'est pas attesté dans l'Italie romaine.

La troisième section se limite à un article sur la Bretagne (VIII) et examine le complexe du culte impérial provincial à Camulodunum dans une perspective comparatiste avec les autres sanctuaires connus en Occident. En dépit de sources littéraires et épigraphiques quasi-inexistantes, celui-ci se révèle assez bien connu—si du moins on fait la part de l'interprétation archéologique.

La quatrième section de l'ouvrage est vouée à la Gaule. Deux textes reprennent le cursus lacunaire d'une inscription du territoire de Valence (voir désormais ILN Valence, 63). L'analyse est probante et digne d'intérêt puisqu'elle révèle que des citoyens de la colonie pouvaient devenir prêtres du culte impérial à l'autel du Confluent, à Lyon. L'unique texte rédigé en français (X) reprend le témoignage des monnaies pour déterminer l'apparence de ce monument. Dans l'ensemble, l'interprétation des différents éléments (couronnes, victoires, lauriers etc.) est convaincante. Toutefois, l'identification des objets reposant sur l'autel comme des bustes de l'empereur et de sa famille effectivement dressés sur la table de l'autel ne convainc guère : comme l'avait déjà vu R. Turcan, celle-ci ne porte généralement rien et on peut se demander quels membres de la famille d'Auguste auraient été choisis pour être ainsi représentés. La démonstration (XI) pour fixer la date de la dédicace de l'autel fédéral le 1^er août 12 av. J.-C. (Liv., Per., 139 contre Suet., Claud., 2,1, qui la place en 10 av. J.-C., année de naissance de Claude) est nuancée et recevable, même si elle ne règle pas tous les problèmes posés. Le dernier texte est un réexamen du cursus de T. Trebonius Rufus (voir désormais PIR ², VIII/1, T 316). Originaire de Tolosa, ce chevalier, dont D. Fishwick suppose qu'il occupa des postes procuratoriens passés sous silence, fut surtout, sous Vespasien, le premier prêtre du culte provincial de Narbonnaise, avant de se retirer à Athènes. Ce texte est donc de première importance pour renforcer la thèse de l'instauration du culte provincial de Narbonne par Vespasien.

L'Espagne fait l'objet de la cinquième section. Les quatre articles réunis traitent surtout, par des biais différents, des problèmes posés par l'identification des sanctuaires municipaux et provinciaux du culte impérial à Tarraco, Emerita Augusta et Corduba. La question est rendue délicate par l'absence d'éléments déterminants, mais les fouilles récentes, évoquées dans plusieurs appendices, ont permis de faire avancer la réflexion. Au-delà des questions de topographie, D. Fishwick revient sur le problème de l'existence d'une distinction entre « forum provincial » et « forum municipal » qui avait été niée par W.Trillmich. On ne peut qu'adhérer à l'idée que cette dichotomie, fréquente dans la littérature archéologique et probablement avérée à Tarragone, n'a rien d'universel. Les espaces réservés aux cérémonies et aux manifestations du culte provincial n'étaient pas nécessairement confinés en un centre unique : chronologie et contexte sont à prendre en compte. Les deux dernières études sont épigraphiques. L'une reprend le commentaire de deux inscriptions mentionnant des prêtres provinciaux de Lusitanie, CIL II, 473 et CIL II, 5264. On remarquera toutefois que, dans la première, le statut pérégrin du flamine Albinus Albui f. est en définitive peu probable, malgré la dénomination inscrite ; dans la seconde, qui est une dédicace à Titus, rien n'indique que le buste qu'elle accompagnait avait un usage cultue : de ce fait, en faire avec D. Fishwick une preuve de l'élargissement du culte aux empereurs vivants est sans doute excessif et le parallèle dressé avec l'évolution décelable dans les autres centres provinciaux est à cet égard plus probant. Le risque de trop pousser parfois l'interprétation d'inscriptions lacunaires apparaît plus nettement dans le dernier article de la section (XVIII) sur la dédicace à L. Cornelius Bocchus : la restitution de la fonction de curator templi diui Augusti, associée par les premiers éditeurs à l'édification du temple de Mérida et que D. Fishwick préfère mettre en rapport avec la « marmorization » du sanctuaire (?), est en fait très douteuse comme le montre la proposition de J. C. Saquete, citée en appendice qui en fait un élément de la titulature du légat Fulcinius Trio.

À cet ensemble succède un article (XIX) sur l'aire sacrée de Gorsium (Pannonie inférieure), qui fut parfois identifiée comme centre du culte impérial de la province mais que D. Fishwick, après d'autres, interprète plutôt comme un complexe associant plusieurs divinités « orientales », dont Jupiter Dolichenus.

La dernière section s'ouvre par une étude sur la relation entre les représentations monétaires de monuments et la réalité archéologique, qui est au cœur de certaines de ses démonstrations (Lyon, Tarragone, etc.). Il y adopte une attitude prudente et nuancée, soulignant l'emphase et les conventions de ces images, tout en mettant en valeur la représentation ponctuelle de monuments jamais édifiés. L'ensemble se clôt par un examen du devenir des prêtres provinciaux d'Occident après l'exercice de leur sacerdoce : contrairement à une idée reçue, l'ascension sociale est rare, et la poursuite d'une carrière procuratorienne ou l'intégration à l'ordre sénatorial sont plutôt des exceptions.

Le champ couvert par ces études est donc large et les démonstrations sont menées souvent de manière très serrée : leur intérêt pour les historiens de la religion romaine est donc notable, mais plusieurs points méritent d'être relevés.

En premier lieu, le travail éditorial laisse parfois à désirer. Certes, le recueil est pourvu d'utiles indices des noms et des lieux. Pourtant, on aurait pu souhaiter une pagination continue et plus de soin apporté à la reproduction des textes. À deux reprises (VIII, 51 et X, 111-112) l'éditeur a copié des pages d'articles tiers appartenant aux publications originelles ! Par ailleurs, le choix d'une organisation chronologique des textes à l'intérieur du cadre géographique est loin d'être heureux : il conduit par exemple à dissocier les deux études sur le prêtre de Valence.

Plus fondamentalement, on aurait pu s'attendre à un travail de mise à jour : or, celui-ci est très inégal. Neuf appendices ont été ajoutés, mais soit ils redoublent le propos de l'article (XXI), soit leur agencement est peu efficace. Ainsi, ils sont presque systématiques pour les dossiers des fouilles récentes à Tarragone, Mérida et Cordoue : n'aurait-il pas été judicieux de ne composer qu'un seul appendice, pour éviter les redites—d'autant qu'une partie de ces données est désormais synthétisée dans le tome III, 2 de The Imperial Cult… ?

En outre, certains articles auraient nécessité eux aussi une mise à jour bibliographique malheureusement absente. Pour ne citer que quelques exemples, la question de la localisation et du statut des temples du divin Auguste à Rome ne peut plus faire l'économie d'une discussion sur les données des fouilles de la Meta Sudans, qui ont peut-être livré les vestiges du sacrarium Augusti, probablement restauré par Claude. ³ On peut certes contester les hypothèses—pourtant séduisantes—qui ont été avancées, mais il eût été honnête de les signaler. De même, si l'omission du bel article de A. Bresson sur l'inscription d'Hilarianus⁴ ou de celui de S. Lefebvre sur les flamines de Lusitanie⁵ ne sont pas dommageables pour le propos, l'absence de référence à la relecture par C. Letta de l'inscription de Mamia, qui tendrait, à partir de parallèles probants, à confirmer la restitution du Genius Augusti à Pompéi, est beaucoup plus gênante.⁶ Dans un champ si vaste où les connaissances sont surtout tributaires de l'accroissement de la documentation ou de sa révision, ce sont des oublis qui peuvent avoir des conséquences sur l'interprétation d'ensemble, dans la mesure où D. Fishwick, qui souhaite rester au plus près des sources, construit son propos par une constante mise en relation des cas spécifiques qu'il examine.

En définitive, on peut donc s'interroger sur l'utilité non pas de ces études—elle est indéniable—mais de ce recueil. Sans les compléments bibliographiques et critiques que l'on est en droit d'attendre d'un volume de scripta varia et à l'heure où nombre de périodiques sont désormais disponibles sur le web (cela concerne ici plus de la moitié des textes), les bibliothèques pourront à bon droit se demander si l'acquisition de ce volume constitue une dépense nécessaire, et c'est regrettable.

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Notes:

1.   D. Fishwick, Cult, Ritual, Divinity and Belief in the Roman World, Farnham, Burlington, Ashgate Publishing, 2012.
2.   D. Fishwick, The Imperial Cult in the Latin West, Leiden, New York, 1987-2005, 8 vol.
3.   Cl. Panella (dir.), Meta Sudans, 1, Roma, 1996, p. 136 sq. ; F. Coarelli, Palatium, Roma, 2012, p. 87 sq.
4.   A. Bresson, « The chorai of Munatius Hilarianus or Neapolitan Phratries as Collegia », Mediterraneo Antico,16/1, 2013, p. 203-222.
5.   S. Lefebvre, « Q. (Lucceius Albinus), flamen provinciae Lusitaniae? L'origine sociale des flamines provinciaux de Lusitanie », in M. Navarro Caballero, S. Demougin (dir.), Élites hispaniques, Bordeaux, 2001, p. 217-239.
6.   C. Letta, « Novità epigrafiche sul culto del Genius Augusti in Italia », dans M. G. Angeli Bertinelli et A. Donati (éd.), Usi e abusi epigrafici. Atti del convegno internazionale…, Roma, 2003, p. 217-236.

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Stéphanie Paul, Cultes et sanctuaires de l'île de Cos. Kernos Supplément, 28. Liège: Presses Universitaires de Liège, 2013. Pp. 442. ISBN 9782875620293. €40.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Erica Morais-Angliker, University of Zurich; Birkbeck, University of London (erica.morais.angliker@access.uzh.ch)

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Table of Contents

Cultes et sanctuaires de l'île de Cos, a monograph on the regional cults on Cos based on the author's 2011 doctoral thesis at the Université de Liège, has now been published as a supplement to Kernos (2013). Dealing with the cults from a religious point of view, Stéphanie Paul takes a fundamentally different approach from Susan M. Sherwin-White, author of a 1978 study of the island,¹ which took a broader, more historical perspective. Paul also incorporates epigraphic evidence that was not available at the time of Sherwin-White's study.

Paul focuses on the Hellenistic period from the mid-fourth to the first century BC. Her chronological point of departure and reference is the synoecism of 366 BC, which brought the various communities of Cos together in the new capital, whose name is homonymous with that of the island. Synoecism demanded a reorganization of the local pantheon that would bring cohesion and identity to the new community. ² Such a reorganization combined new religions and ancestral traditions, which are examined by Paul through two types of documents: the cult calendar (a chronological list of the sacrifices and celebrations taking place in the city) and regulations for public cults and the priest/priestess bound to them. Synoecism also established a new relationship between the recently created civic center of Cos and the demes. Paul expands our understanding of this phenomenon by examining local cults on the level of the demes (which may go back to earlier times) contrasting them with the central models offered by the cults held in the city of Cos.

Although archaeological remains (when available) enter her discussion, Paul relies mostly on epigraphic evidence, which is abundant for the Hellenistic period. She also draws on the meager sources that antedate the era of synoecism as well as on testimony from the Roman period in order to speculate, when possible, on the evolution of the cults. These sources, which privilege the city, certainly lead to a biased perception of the cults practiced on the island. Paul is aware of this problem, and she tries to minimize it through an interdisciplinary analysis of the cults and thus to examine interactions among various constituents, as well as the tributes offered by the demes, individuals, and families who organize the cults. To cite just one example, she discusses the festival of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteria in the 2nd century BC, which, founded by a private donation, was nonetheless regulated by the polis, while the priesthood was held by members of the founder's family.

The study contains seven chapters organized in two parts. Three appendices supplement the text with a translation of a calendar of the city's cults, a calendar of Cos, and a list of Coan divinities with their epiclesis. Part I offers analyses of the cults of Cos, and thus provides the basis for Part II, in which the function of polytheism on the local level is discussed.

In Chapter I, which presents the gods of the Coan pantheon, Paul stresses the prominence of Zeus, which is expressed through his various epicleses (Polieus, Phatrios, Boulaios, Patroios, Soter, etc.) and associations with divinities (Hera, Hestia, the Twelve Gods, Damos). As Paul demonstrates, one of Zeus's closest associations is with Athena, with whom he shares five epicleses. Of these the one that binds both gods with the polis is of great importance, as the author later makes clear in Chapter VI.³ She also offers a minute analysis of an inscription that refers to the festival of Zeus polieus, which took place in the month of Batromios, and notes that it culminated with the sacrifice of an ox selected through an elaborate process in which all subdivisions of the polis participated. In this chapter she also introduces the other divinities of the local pantheon, such as Apollo, worshiped with epicleses (Delios, Pythios and Karneios) that reveal ties to the world beyond Cos. Analyzing archaeological and epigraphic data, she concludes that the area of the agora and gymnasium held the most important cults of the city (e.g. Dionysos and Heracles), while that of the port contained at least three temples: Aphrodite Pandamos and Pontia, and Herakles Kallinikos.

In Chapter II, Paul examines the cult of Asclepios, whose sanctuary was not only of crucial importance to Cos but also had enormous international significance. Here, contrary to the other chapters, Paul does offer new analyses of documents that enable a re-evaluation of the cult. Given the cult's importance, however, it is crucial that the discussion present the cult of Asclepios in a synthetic way. The author discusses the divinities associated with Asclepios (Apollo, Hygieia and Epione, the Nymphes), the obscure origins of the cult in the first half of the fourth century BC, the vast architectural program that was funding Asclepieia by the third century BC, and the cult's importance in the Roman era.

In Chapter III, Paul offers evidence for the demos of Halasarna, which, though inhabited throughout the Geometric and Archaic periods and experiencing further growth in the Classical era, reached its peak only in the Hellenistic period, at the same time as the foundation of the new capital of Cos. As Paul shows, religious life in Halasarna centered on the cult of Apollo. A sanctuary excavated in the 1980s brought to light new inscriptions as well as structures from the Hellenistic period, among which at least one can be associated with the god. By examining the inscriptions, Paul is able to figure out the organization of the cult and to point out, among other things, that the calendar of the annual sacrifices by the priest of Apollo included cults celebrated by the demos for which there is no evidence in the city of Cos (Hecate, Artemis), and also that the demos had its own institutions (college of naopes, the timaques). Her reading of the calendar reveals that Apollo was likewise associated with several local cults of the demos. Finally, she posits that the singular cults practiced in Halasarna are vestiges of the pre- synoecist period. The community of Halasarna rendered homage to the gods of the city of Cos—Zeus Polieus, Athena Polias, Aphrodite Pandamos and the Soter divinities—next to those venerated by local cults.

In Chapter IV, Paul discusses the cults from the demos of Isthmos, on which was located Astypalaia, the central site of Cos before synoecism. Although it contains traces of a sanctuary that antedates synoecism (a temple of Demeter in Panagia Palatiani and the grotta of Aspripetra, where a cult of Pan and the Nymphs was held), little is known about the cults due to vast lacunas in the documents, particularly in what concerns the deme's calendar. Nevertheless these fragmentary documents mention the celebrations of divinities celebrated in the city of Cos—Aphrodite Pandamia and Hestia Phamia—which also occur in Halasarna. Paul shows how the cults offered to the local monarch parallel those celebrated in Cos. Among local cults are those of the Mother of the Gods, Apollo Oulios, Asklepios and Hygieia (the only cult of this sort celebrated outside the Asklepieion). In addition, Paul interprets an 11 BC inscription that commemorates the family foundation of a cult of Artemis, Zeus Hikesios, and the Theoi Patroioi.

In Chapter V, Paul describes the cults celebrated in four rural demes: Phyxa, Haleis, Hippia and Antimachia. These were poorly excavated, which may explain the dearth of inscriptions. The demos Aigelos, attested epigraphically, did not contain any documents significant for religious study. By examining this meager material, Paul was able to identify some of the cults and divinities worshipped in these demes. Although all her findings cannot be listed here, of particular note is a calendar from Phyxa, which refers to a sacrifice made to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira, carried out merely fifteen days after the same gods were honored in the polis by a festival known as Pythocleia, which Paul interprets as an imitation of the religious life in the polis.

In Chapter VI, Paul examines the organization of the Coan pantheon and comes up with a profile of the divinities, relations amongst them, their hierarchy and their intervention in the community. She categorizes them according to their "areas of action."⁴ This model has its limits—as the author herself admits - particularly in what concerns the integration of all the pantheon's divinities and cults while relying on documents full of lacunae. This is the case of Apollo, for example, whose place in the Coan pantheon cannot be precisely defined. Paul also shows that although the configuration of the Coan pantheon is strongly marked by the local context, it can be inserted into a common system of representation in the general Greek pantheon. She relies on these similarities to compare the pantheon of Cos to the religious systems of other Greek cities. Although not all the Coan divinities analyzed by Paul can be discussed here, among the most remarkable ones is Zeus Polieus, whom she views as a divinity with the power to unify the city, and thus certainly helped integrate the various communities that came together in synoecism. She also argues that this god's domains were quite different from those of Aphrodite Pandamos, who too protected the city but on a more global scale and likewise watched over private aspects of life such as marriage and birth. In this chapter Paul also includes a fascinating discussion of tutelary divinities and the role of Asclepios and Zeus on Cos, in which she rejects the old assumption that Asclepios—despite his international importance—was the tutelary divinity of Cos; that role seems to have been reserved for Zeus.

Finally, in Chapter VII, Paul studies the sacrifices practiced on the island, basing her argument on the rich sources that deal with Cos. Unlike most scholars who have dealt with the subject, she approaches it not from a global or thematic perspective, but by analyzing the sacrifice within the local Coan pantheon. Analyses of such procedures are also crucial to the interpretation of the Coan pantheon itself, for sacrifices imply communication and reveal the reasons why Coans were invoking divinities and thus Paul's analyses shed light on the divinities' prerogatives.

All in all, Cultes et sanctuaires de l'île de Cos
is not only a great contribution to the study of religious life on Cos, but it also lays the ground for understanding polytheism in general as it explores the tension between local diversity and Panhellenic religion. Furthermore, by showing the intense participation of the polis in the organization of cults in Cos during the Hellenistic period, Paul's book questions the much debated claim that the Classical polis-religion model declined after the political changes brought about by Alexander the Great. ⁵

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Notes:

1.  Susan M. Sherwin-White, Ancient Cos. An Historical Study from the Dorian Settlement to the Imperial Period, 1978.
2.  On synoecism and the reorganization of cults, see R. Parker,"Subjection, Synoecism and Religious Life," in P. Funke and N., Luraghi, (eds.), The Politics of Ethnicity and the Crisis of the Peloponnesian League (Washington, DC., 2009), 183-214.
3.   Paul examined pairs of epithets of Zeus and Athena in an earlier paper, "À propos d'épiclèses "trans-divines". Le cas de Zeus et d'Athéna à Cos," ARG 12 (2010): 65-81.
4.   J. P.Vernant, "Mythe et société en Grèce ancienne," (Paris: F. Maspero, 1974), 103-120; G. Dumézil, La religion romaine archaïque, (Paris: Payot, 1966), 179-18.
5.   Z. Stewart, "La religione," in R. Bianchi Bandinelli (ed.), La società ellenistica. Economia, diritto, religione (Milano: Storia e Civiltà dei Greci, 1977), 503-529; F. Graf, "Bemerkungen zur bürgerlichen Religiosität im Zeitalter des Hellenismus," in M. Wörrle, and P. Zanker, Stadtbild und Bürgerbild im Hellenismus (München: C. H. Beck München, 1995), 103-114; G. Shipley, The Greek World after Alexander: 323-30 BC (London: Routledge, 2000); J.D. Mikalson, "Greek Religion: Continuity and Change in the Hellenistic Period," in G.R. Bugh, (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Hellenistic World (Cambridge: Cambridge, 2006), 208-222.

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Kristina Milnor, Graffiti and the Literary Landscape in Roman Pompeii. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2014. Pp. xvi, 311. ISBN 9780199684618. $125.00.

Reviewed by Sarah Levin-Richardson, University of Washington (sarahlr@uw.edu)

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Preview

In her new book, Milnor explores the roles of literary elements (quotations of canonical literature, as well as literary language, content, and form) in Pompeian graffiti, applying literary criticism to graffiti studies and the material study of graffiti to literary studies. Each chapter investigates a handful of metrical graffiti on a particular theme, allowing Milnor to combine her skill at critical reading¹ with comparisons to other graffiti and literature, and examination of physical context. Ultimately finding that individuals remixed elements of oral and written culture in graffiti for their own artistic and social purposes, Milnor advances our understanding of what literature meant to the general populace, while contributing to recent scholarship on the social and material contexts of ancient graffiti.²

Graffiti and the Literary Landscape in Roman Pompeii offers something for everyone. A novice to ancient graffiti (or even antiquity) will appreciate Milnor's clear prose, ample introductory material to the culture of ancient graffiti writing, and the infrequency of untranslated Latin or Greek. Others will enjoy Milnor's discussion (embedded throughout the book) of how literary texts represent and engage with materiality. This includes not only the portrayal of graffiti in literature (e.g., erotic wall graffiti in Pseudo-Lucian's Erotes (p. 21); graffiti as political dissent in Cicero, Suetonius, Strabo, and others (p. 97-101, 119); graffiti as dangerous to wise men in Plutarch (p. 273-4)), but also, for example, Catullus' disavowal of the epitaph format for his poem on the death of his brother (p. 62). I myself value her emphasis on the ways in which graffiti act upon readers, from how second-person forms within graffiti prohibiting dumping made them more effective (p. 53-4), to how the commendation of M. Terentius' amicitia in CIL 4.4456 solidified bonds of beneficia between the writer and Terentius (p. 121-2).

Chapter 1 ("Landscape and Literature in the Roman City") describes some of the fundamental characteristics of the written landscapes of ancient cities. Noting the proliferation of inscriptions commissioned by public officials and private benefactors, Milnor reminds us that ancient graffiti belong within this larger epigraphic context, rather than outside it (as she suggests is the case with modern graffiti, p. 53). She then shows some of the ways graffiti meld various epigraphic and literary genres and engage in complex dialectics with other texts and images in the cityscape. For example, she suggests that poetic quotations painted in the garden of the Caupona of Euxinus rounded out the Hellenistic, bucolic feel of the existing decoration and landscaping, with the effect of turning the space into a "literary landscape" which "allow[ed] the guests briefly to inhabit a pastoral idyll" (p. 93).

"Poetic Politics, Political Poetics" (chapter 2) explores how Pompeian politics, poetry, and wall writing intersect in ways we might not expect from reading literary sources that show graffiti being used for political dissent. For example, Milnor notes several instances where either oral or written poetry has been added to formulaic programmata to help advertise a candidate for office. Some include snippets of what may be political chants or popular poems, another adds a possible "jingle" in hexameter, and two programmata append elegiac couplets (CIL 4.6625 and 7201) that (like literary epigram, Milnor argues) help craft the personas of the candidates and model the ideal relationship between reader and candidate. While graffiti with overtly political content are rare at Pompeii, Milnor shows how they gain power through their resonances with political oratory, the comic stage, and even Greek tragedy, and how this authority can in turn be called upon by other graffiti nearby.

In her third chapter ("Authorship, Appropriation, Authenticity"), Milnor argues that Pompeian graffiti display a popular conception of authorship valuing anonymity, appropriation, and communal composition alongside the more conventional sense of an author as sole and proprietary composer. Even for a set of poems with the seemingly traditional authorship claim Tiburtinus epoese (CIL 4.4966-73), Milnor shows how the word epoese might evoke different modes of authorship, including the Hellenistic tradition of anthologizing, as well as both manufacturing and painting Greek pottery. In other cases, a set of poems written by an unknown individual (CIL 4.1893-6, 1898) combines existing poetry (Ovid and Propertius) with other verses to create new, thematically and linguistically connected poems, and some poems appear in multiple versions with unique endings added by individual writers. Raising the provocative question of whether we (or the ancient writer or reader) can determine where generic conventions end and personal sentiment begins in seemingly individualized, context-specific graffiti, Milnor demonstrates that there are marked similarities between some graffiti and private letters (both literary and those found at Vindolanda).

Chapter 4 ("Gender and Genre: The Case of CIL 4.5296") turns to one of the most contested graffiti at Pompeii, a poem found inside the doorway of a small house that seems to be written from the perspective of a woman wooing another woman in the tradition of exclusus amator poetry. Milnor deploys literary analysis to critique past approaches that turn the poetic scenario into something other than female same-sex desire, convincingly arguing through close reading that that is exactly how we ought to read the poem. She emphasizes the poem's careful and deliberate construction, the use of diminutives to indicate both a female speaker and feminine object of desire, and the representation of men (rather than women) as fickle lovers, which points to a female speaker. Milnor concludes by discussing spatial aspects pertaining to the graffito, including its placement within the decorative scheme of the entranceway and its relationship to other graffiti in that space.

While other scholars interpret Pompeian quotations of Virgil as evidence of Virgil's role in the educational curriculum, or as indicating widespread literary engagement with the Aeneid, Milnor argues in her last chapter ("A Culture of Quotation: Virgil, Education, and Literary Ownership") that Virgilian quotations were "broken down in the digestive system of Roman popular culture" (p. 262) and turned into oft-repeated taglines just like others at Pompeii.³ For example, she notes that a programma's placement of Aeneid 1.1 (CIL 4.7131) below the abbreviation D.I.D.O. shows awareness of Dido's role in the Aeneid; at the same time, 1.1 is not related to Dido, suggesting incomplete familiarity with the Aeneid. Here the quotation extends the visual footprint of the programma and draws upon the esteem granted by literature. A more creative engagement can be seen in the remix fullones ululamque cano, non arma virumque, "I sing the fullers and the screech owl, not arms and the man" (CIL 4.9131), which seems to respond to a nearby fresco of Aeneas and a programma where a certain Fabius Ululitremulus ("owl-fearer") supports candidates for office. The fact that the majority of other quotations from the Aeneid and Eclogues come from speeches both displays interest in the communicative potential of literary genres and perhaps explains the absence of the Georgics, which has comparatively few speeches. An appendix of all Virgilian quotations from Pompeii follows.

Occasionally, I found that Milnor would push an argument beyond what seems plausible (to me). For example, while I was convinced by most of her analysis of epistolary appropriation in graffiti, I was not persuaded that the nearly 170 graffiti of the type "x sends greetings to y" should necessarily be read as "suggest[ing] not only that a certain number of people were familiar with the forms and traditions of epistolography, but that they were able to transfer the sense of themselves as authors which they found there—and which finds its most succinct verbal expression in the letter's opening formula—to the writing of graffiti" (p. 167). In addition, I had hoped for Milnor to present non-literary graffiti with the same nuance as she does literary graffiti. So, for example, when she summarizes that "Pompeian graffiti writers show an abiding interest….not just in crude erotic words and images, but in 'poetic' expressions of desire which ring familiar from more overtly literary contexts" (p. 192), Milnor glosses over the complexity of sexual graffiti.⁴ Likewise, I wished for Milnor to engage more fully with current scholarship on Pompeian graffiti,⁵ as in her discussion of how CIL 4.5296 respects the decorative scheme of the entrance hallway (p. 219-20); this could have been framed within Benefiel's work on the ubiquity of graffiti in houses, including this very phenomenon.⁶ In both cases, readers may come away with an impression of Pompeian graffiti and scholarship thereon as less complex and nuanced than they are.

Factual errors and infelicities are few: e.g., Vetii for Vettii (p. 92), boarder for border (p. 128 and 220), CIL 4.6641 is said to be outside the Nocera rather than Vesuvius gate (p. 52, although the caption to figure 1.1 is correct); the index lists CIL 4.10070 on p. 197, but it is on p. 240.

In sum, Milnor's book is a welcome addition to the field of graffiti studies. Of greatest value are her discussions of Pompeii's non-canonical notion of authorship, and the use of formulaic or even entirely appropriated texts in seemingly personalized graffiti.

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Notes:

1.   For which, see Milnor, K. 2002. "Sulpicia's (Corpo)reality: Elegy, Authorship, and the Body in [Tibullus] 3.13." Classical Antiquity 21: 259-82.
2.   Recent volumes include Baird, J. and C. Taylor, eds. 2011. Ancient Graffiti in Context. New York: Routledge; Keegan, P. 2014. Graffiti in Antiquity. New York: Routledge.
3.   Building from her analysis of the Aeneid in Milnor, K. 2009. "Literary Literacy in Roman Pompeii: The Case of Virgil's Aeneid." In Ancient Literacies: The Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, eds. W. A. Johnson and H. N. Parker, 288-319. New York: Oxford.
4.   See Varone, A. 1994. Erotica pompeiana: Iscrizioni d'amore sui muri di Pompei. Rome: "L'Erma" di Bretschneider.
5.   There is a rich body of work on topics such as political subversion and the popular voice (Zadorojnyi, A. 2011. "Transcripts of Dissent? Political Graffiti and Elite Ideology Under the Principate." In Ancient Graffiti in Context, eds. J. Baird and C. Taylor, 110-33. New York: Routledge), the role of graffiti in the domestic sphere (Benefiel, R. 2010. "Dialogues of Ancient Graffiti in the House of Maius Castricius in Pompeii." American Journal of Archaeology 114: 59-101), children's graffiti (Huntley, K. 2011. "Identifying Children's Graffiti in Roman Campania: A Developmental Psychological Approach." In Ancient Graffiti in Context, eds. J. Baird and C. Taylor, 69-89. New York: Routledge), female authorship (Levin-Richardson, S. 2013. "fututa sum hic: Female Subjectivity and Agency in Pompeian Sexual Graffiti." Classical Journal 108: 319-45), and play with personas and rhetoric (Williams, C. 2010. Roman Homosexuality. Second Edition. New York: Oxford; Levin-Richardson, S. 2011. "Facilis hic futuit: Graffiti and Masculinity in Pompeii's 'Purpose-built' Brothel." Helios 38: 59-78).
6.   See n.5.

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Helen Lovatt, The Epic Gaze: Vision, Gender and Narrative in Ancient Epic. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Pp. x, 414. ISBN 9781107016118. $110.00.

Reviewed by Neil W. Bernstein, Ohio University (bernsten@ohio.edu)

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Preview

Lovatt's major study has created a new starting point for questions relating to vision throughout the Greco-Roman epic corpus: who sees, who is seen, and how they see. The Epic Gaze is distinguished by the comprehensiveness of its discussion from Homer to Nonnus (though Claudian is unfortunately omitted). At one time, the question of "who sees" in epic might have been addressed mainly in narratological terms, e.g. by examining the presentation of the story through a series of focalizers.¹ Psychoanalytic approaches have been the more recent choice. Studies of epic vision have tended to be devoted to a single work and/or to a single controlling theory.² This study addresses a wide variety of topics relating to vision, and its theoretical approach draws strength from its avowed eclecticism.

Lovatt uses contemporary theories of the gaze, visuality, and film theory to open up questions in the ancient texts, rather than attempt to make them conform to a critical orthodoxy. Lovatt correctly treats dehistoricized or universalizing theories (such as some of the more reductive psychoanalytic approaches) as less productive than ones which pay close attention to the particularities of gender and subject position. The penultimate chapter on the assaultive gaze gains most of its critical purchase from the ancient haptic theories of vision. The reader of epic is often placed at the center of the study, as Lovatt inquires whether a particular episode of viewing by characters models an aspect of the reader's experience. Could elite males, the majority audience of epic, identify with the reactions of characters who occupy a different subject position, either one above theirs like the gods', or below theirs like a female captive's? Did the narrative pleasure of watching an epic hero die reflect any aspect of a female viewer's experience of the Roman gladiatorial games?

Chapters 2 through 4 offer a sustained response to Feeney's The Gods in Epic (Oxford 1991) through their discussions of interaction between gods and human beings. The gods have individuated reactions to the scenes unfolding on earth: the Iliadic Zeus sees the fulfillment of his boulê, whereas the Virgilian Juno views Aeneas' progress to Italy with increasing rage. The gods are not distanced authorities but engaged mediators of the epic story. Their choices to view, intervene, or turn away are tightly related to narrative causation. Human beings' ability to perceive the gods' activities indexes their subject position; yet privileged gaze is no guarantee of equitable treatment, as evidenced by a series of deceptive epiphanies, such as those of Athene in Iliad 1 and 5, Venus in Aeneid 1, and Virtus in Thebaid 10.

When human beings think they see the gods at work, divine mediation again creates absorbing problems in storytelling and philosophy. Lovatt offers an exemplary reading of a difficult scene, Venus' revelation of the gods' destruction of Troy to Aeneas in Aeneid 2. Aeneas' mother must interpret for her son much of what he appears to see, or risk making the attacking Neptune, Juno, and the rest appear "banal or ridiculous" (92). Meanwhile, the passage's evocations of Lucretius (for whom the gods are distant and serene) introduce a series of philosophical ironies that the later epic tradition is only too happy to seize upon. Chapter 4 on the privileged gaze of the prophet completes the book's opening movement on the gods. Female prophets tend to be mad, in contrast to political operators like Homer's Calchas or Virgil's Helenus—until the Flavian poets introduce the mad Mopsus (Valerius) and Melampus (Statius), each of whom complicates earlier epic's gendered lines of division (138).

Chapter 5 on ecphrasis begins with Ariadne's despair in Catullus 64, but continues to develop the theme of interaction with the gods. Characters who can read the text of a divine creation (such as the shields of Achilles or Aeneas) enjoy similar privileges to those who perceive the gods' epiphanies, while the narrator who describes a divine creation resembles the prophet who elucidates the gods' activities. Chapters 6 and 7 focus most directly on gendered gazes and bodies. Episodes of dreaming, teichoscopy, and lamentation are characteristic venues for a distinctively female gaze. Distance from the battlefield, however, does not imply lack of narrative control: as Lovatt observes "in the Ovidian narrative [of Scylla], and in Valerian teichoscopy, the battle exists only for the benefit of its female viewer, who is the point of the story" (241). Epic celebrates the heroic male body through comparisons to stars, horses, and works of art. Vernant's reading of the "beautiful death" is here extended throughout the epic corpus. Death can be eroticized in the description of the fallen young man as a flower; spectacularized, in the anachronistic comparisons in Roman epic between dueling and gladiatorial combat; or fetishized in the focus on the corpse in fragments. Attention to subject position indicates the complexity of epic's gladiatorial imagery. The poets call attention to the conceptual distance between the socially dead gladiator and the high-status epic duelist, as well as between the Roman audience watching for pleasure and the poems' internal audiences watching as epic champions determine their fate.

Chapter 8 on the assaultive gaze engages ancient haptic theories of vision most fully, from folk concepts of the evil eye to "scholarly" efforts to explain vision as beams emitted from the eye. Fear of hostile or intrusive gazes may still contribute to the modern obsession with privacy. The motif of the hero's fiery eyes that terrify or assault his observers, however, is one of the most foreign aspects of epic for us, if only because our folk theories of vision have changed so radically. Ovid's Invidia episode epitomizes the Metamorphoses' sidewise glance at the tradition, while Medea's destruction of Talos at the end of Apollonius' epic is a characteristic subversion of Homeric values in its transfer of power from Jason to his barbarian female protector. The final chapter on the monumental gaze begins with Ovid's Perseus turning his enemies into statues with the aid of Medusa's head, an example of the Metamorphoses' typical driving of epic tropes toward absurdity. Medusa's ongoing power even in her objectified state characterizes both the ambiguous status of women in epic and the genre's uneasy embrace of its monumentalizing function. The poets contrast their works' ability to preserve memory with the real world's monuments, from the Iliadic Hector's offer of a sêma to his victim to Lucan's pitiful grave of Magnus.

As noted above, scope is one of the major strengths of this study. Silius' Punica receives as full a discussion as the other Flavian epics, and the late ancient poets Nonnus and Quintus of Smyrna are given attentive consideration. Lovatt's introductions will hopefully reawaken interest in these understudied texts, ones that show both the genre's continuities and the ability of each successor to manipulate it. (Given the flood of recent books on the Flavian poets, it may be hard to remember that they were once considered equally irrelevant to discussions of "epic".) Claudian's De Raptu Proserpinae should have been included in this comprehensive study. The relative absence of human characters in this short narrative of divine rape and passage between the worlds above and below means the gods' gazes and interactions can be studied from a different perspective from the rest of the tradition.

The organization of the chapters is sometimes unpredictable: for example, Silius' shield of Hannibal is discussed in four separate subsections of the ecphrasis chapter (ch. 5), making an overall reading of this passage difficult to obtain. It is very rare that readings employ a heuristic that Lovatt describes as "potentially banal" (273); but it does occur in the question of whether the gaze of Virgil's Aeneas (211) or Silius' Hannibal (257) are "female". Conjugal love, terror at omens, and moments of passivity are shared by the victorious heroes of epic as well as the defeated ones; the gods too can be thwarted and disempowered (224). Subsequent sections proceed to observe that there may not be "any real difference between the feminine and the problematical masculine" (265); and that some of epic's speakers crudely apply "feminine" "to the powerless and submissive half of a hierarchical relationship" (297) (including defeated warriors), even as others deconstruct such an opposition.

It is not a criticism to observe that that the brevity of particular discussions often leaves the reader wanting more. Lovatt's remarks comparing the doomed hero/victim of epic and the "final girl" of the slasher film who turns on the slasher (299) are tantalizingly brief; this suggestion would profit from further investigation.³ The discussion of Statius' involvement in the philosophical tradition of viewing and being viewed by the gods through the figure of Capaneus is also rapid (108-111); see now Chaudhuri's full-scale reading.⁴ These minor criticisms aside, The Epic Gaze is strongly recommended for anyone interested in Greco-Roman epic, ancient narrative, or ancient theories of vision.

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Notes:

1.   See Gérard Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method (Oxford 1980 [1972]), 186. Narratological approaches to ancient epic include Don P. Fowler, "Narrate and Describe: The Problem of Ekphrasis," JRS 81 (1991), 25-35; Irene J. F. de Jong, Narrators and Focalizers. The Presentation of the Story in the Iliad (Amsterdam 1987).
2.   Examples include J. D. Reed, Virgil's gaze: nation and poetry in the Aeneid (Princeton 2007); R. Alden Smith, The Primacy of Vision in Virgil's Aeneid (Austin 2005); Patricia B. Salzman-Mitchell, A Web of Fantasies: Gaze, Image, and Gender in Ovid's Metamorphoses (Columbus 2005); Matthew G. L. Leigh, Lucan: Spectacle and Engagement (Oxford 1997).
3.   For a recent study of viewing violence in epic and film, see Kyle Gervais, "Viewing violence in Statius' Thebaid and the films of Quentin Tarantino," in Helen Lovatt and Caroline Vout (eds.), Epic Visions: Visuality in Greek and Latin Epic and its Reception (Cambridge 2013), pp. 139-167.
4.   Pramit Chaudhuri, The War With God: Theomachy in Roman Imperial Poetry (Oxford 2014), 256-297.

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Matt Waters, Ancient Persia. A Concise History of the Achaemenid Empire, 550–330 BCE. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014. Pp. xx, 252. ISBN 9780521253697. $29.99 (pb).

Reviewed by Catherine M. Draycott, British Institute at Ankara (cdraycott@biaatr.org)

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Literature on the Achaemenid Persian Empire has flourished in the last half century and continues to gather pace in a way that almost echoes the rapid expansion of the Empire itself. Much of the most recent material consists of specialist papers in edited conference volumes, which while valuable can be difficult for beginners to penetrate and for teachers to use as class set texts.¹ J.M. Cook's 1983 The Persian Empire (London) is out of date and while Pierre Briant's 1996 Histoire de l'Empire perse (Paris) remains essential, it is more encyclopaedic than introductory. Newer books by Lindsay Allen, Maria Brosius, Joseph Wiesehöfer and Amélie Kuhrt are more wieldy and all good, but cover slightly different ground: Allen's is a highly readable overview, strong on art and archaeology and especially on the historiography and Greek representations of Persia. Brosius' and Wiesehöfer's books cover more abbreviated parts of and extend beyond the Achaemenid period, and Kuhrt's collects essential textual sources with important commentary.²

Matt Waters's book should now be the first stop for those wanting an introduction to the Achaemenids and the study of them. It is a traditional history handbook, a chronological political narrative punctuated with social themes, but a thoroughly enjoyable one: well written and stimulating, the chapters pull the reader along through the book, and while concise it is packed with information and satisfyingly detailed, lucid discussions. A few typos aside, the copy is clean and well-illustrated with images and good maps.³ It shares with the books mentioned above the approach of the 'New Achaemenid History', wherein biases in the preponderance of Greek literary sources are made explicit and balanced with the different quality of information available from Near Eastern sources.⁴ Waters's book is a great success in these terms. The author displays equal control over the Greek and the myriad of non-Greek sources, which range from trilingual monumental royal inscriptions, clay tablets, Babylonian chronicles and the Bible to inscriptions and private letters from Egypt. From these he deftly weaves the story of this first Persian Empire, from their origins in the early Iron Age groups of Iran through to the take over of their vast territory by Alexander the Great, integrating into it the character of the sources.

A particular strength is Waters's expertise in the pre- and early Achaemenid periods, situating the rise of the Achaemenids within a rich, if obscure history of kingdoms in western Iran, particularly the Elamites. The Achaemenid trajectory is thereby portrayed as both grounded and extraordinary. The book will make a good companion to handbooks on archaic and classical Greek history as it covers the activities of the Greeks in Asia Minor and the Eastern Mediterranean from a Persian perspective. Of course not everything can be covered in a concise history; Waters is strong on texts, briefer on (although not inattentive to) the archaeology. The only real deficiency, though, is the limited secondary references. The endnotes contain a wealth of valuable references, but they are few in number and can feel arbitrary (e.g. a note for discussion of 'Medizing', p. 122, but not for debates about army estimates, p. 121). An overburden of endnotes might be deemed undesirable for an introductory handbook, but the selectivity here limits readers' ability to pursue scholarly debates flagged by the author.

The book is split into twelve succinct chapters of roughly 15–20 pages each. The front matter includes explanation of textual sources, and relevant volumes and internet sites through which they can be consulted (xv–xvii). After a brief sketch of geography and terminology ('Persian', for instance), Chapter 1 further characterizes the Near Eastern and Greek textual sources, with an excursus on issues surrounding use of the latter. Chapter 2 follows with discussion of Early Iron Age Iran, including the migration of Iranian-language speakers into the area and the major powers: Elam, Assyria, Babylonia and various Anatolian kingdoms. The Medes, whose empire the Persians subjugated according to Herodotus, get their own sub-section. Here marriage of story and sources is not as crisp as elsewhere, some details skimmed over. For instance, it is only at the end that one learns about Babylonian and Biblical traditions of the Medes as a major power. Explanation of how these compare with the scarce Assyrian allusions to them as a collection of fortress-based, dynast-led groups rather than an empire (a la Herodotus) would be helpful.

Any fears that skimming may be a consistent feature of such a concise book are quickly vanquished through the following chapters. Chapter 3 deals with the emergence of Cyrus and the early Empire. This is a particularly obscure area, but Waters's expertise in the Near Eastern sources allows him to balance Greek tradition with what can be understood of the Iranian context, flagging areas such as the role of Anshan in Elam and the importance of hostage princes at Assyrian courts for knowledge transfer. Chapter 4 covers the death of Cyrus, the reign of Cambyses, the extensive problems surrounding his death and the accession of Darius I, with much discussion of Darius' Bisitun Inscriptions and Herodotus.⁵ Waters shows Near Eastern precedents for the rhetorical formulas employed at Bisitun and proposes that later adjustments to add Darius' Scythian campaign may have been felt so important because this was the (general) region in which Cyrus died in battle.

The next four chapters (5 through 8) alternate the reigns of Darius and Xerxes with social institutions: first Darius' triumphs over rebellions, his rhetoric (Bisitun again) and campaigns; next the 'mechanics' of empire (the court, administration, payment of tribute, satrapies, army and roads); then the accession of Xerxes through to his invasion of Greece; and following that the 'anatomy' of empire (capitals, ideology, religion). 'Court' gives welcome consideration to gender (women and eunuchs), but discussion of court and capitals could have been brought together in the same chapter for a more holistic discussion of urbanism and the architecture of court, both material and social. Limited space means some skimming here too: one would like a bit more detail on the remains of some of the capitals (Susa, for instance).⁶ Concerning the economy, Waters explains how clay accounts tablets from Persepolis are helping to clarify this, but the lack of resolution in understanding payment systems in the western satrapies and how coinage relates to this could be flagged more strongly. Such issues do not disturb the overall achievement of the book, however. The structure allows the author to introduce themes then picked up in subsequent chapters in a way that conveys diachronic development. Religion, for instance, is considered further in the royal inscriptions of a number of rulers, where new gods are introduced. The initial discussion of Achaemenid religion handles the primary issue of whether it can be called 'Zoroastrian', with specific attention to Zoroaster, as well as the contradictions in sources about whether the Achaemenids were laissez-faire about allowing worship of other gods. One matter that might be considered further, and aside from the Zoroastrian question, is the conceptualisation of Ahuramazda.

The next three chapters, 9 through 11, run through the reigns of the subsequent seven Achaemenid Kings, who ruled from the 460s to the 330s BC: Artaxerxes I, Xerxes II and Darius II (Ochus) (Chapter 9); Artaxerxes II (Arses) and Artaxerxes III (Ochus) (Chapter 10); and Artaxerxes IV and Darius III (Chapter 11). Court intrigues surrounding accession were a popular subject in Greek literature, and Waters weighs these judiciously against Near Eastern evidence. Of the numerous things covered in these chapters, the traditions surrounding various rebellions through the empire are examined perspicaciously, including ongoing affairs in the northwest of the Empire, the Aegean and Mediterranean. Waters offers lucid, critical discussion of such issues as the Peace of Kallias, the Persian role in the Peloponnesian War and continuing fourth century conflicts of the Greeks, who frequently appealed to the rulers of Western Anatolia for alliances and aid. Chapter 11 ends with the rise of Macedonia and Alexander's conquest of the Achaemenid Empire. He places Alexander's incursions into Asia in the context of Philip's campaigns in Hellespontine Phrygia, a region with close connections to Thrace and Macedonia. Here, as with the earlier Greco-Persian wars, Waters highlights New Achaemenid History's revisions of old-fashioned, Hellenocentric ideas of Persian impetuousness and weakness. For instance, Darius' retaliation following the Ionian Revolt fits well into Near Eastern traditions of punishing recalcitrant subjects, already made abundantly clear at Bisitun (Waters reminds us that an Athenian embassy had at one point given earth and water to the King). Xerxes' larger campaign implies he was set on expansion, which also fits traditional Near Eastern ideologies of a ruler's duties. In the fourth century BC, what seem like constant rebellions attested in Greek sources are not necessarily an indication of an empire in decline, but a more or less continuous feature of such a large empire. Hence, Alexander's conquest was down to continued military successes rather than because the Empire was on the brink of collapse. At the end of Chapter 11 and in a short epilogue (Chapter 12), Waters also makes clear the difficulties Alexander faced in stepping into the role of the King as a peripheral foreigner.

The book closes with four appendices: a useful reference timeline; a chronological list of Kings; a genealogical chart of the Kings; and further readings. As noted earlier, endnotes are limited. The further reading list is also select, with readings listed under general headings rather than according to the book's chapter and section headings, which would be a more useful reference tool. This aside, this book is a strong synthesis, which will be instrumental in disseminating the gains of the last decades of Achaemenid studies to a broad readership and in encouraging scholarship that transcends the traditional disciplinary boundaries of Classics and Ancient Near Eastern studies. It is not only useful, but a model of engaging scholarly writing, and a good read.

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Notes:

1.   Many are referenced either in the further reading or endnotes. Some from the last five years that are not: Lanfranchi, G.B. and Rollinger, R. (eds) 2010: Concepts of Kingship in Antiquity: Proceedings of the European Science Foundation Exploratory Workshop held in Padova, November 28th–December 1st, 2007 (Padova); Summerer, L., von Kienlin, A., and Ivantchik, A. (eds) 2011: Kelainai–Apameia Kibotos: Stadtentwicklung im anatolischen Kontext. Akten des Kolloquiums, München 2 April–4 April 2009 (Bordeaux), BMCR 2012.05.45; Ro, J.U. (ed.), 2012: From Judah to Judea: Socio-economic Structures and Processes in the Persian Period (Sheffield); Rollinger, R. and Schnegg, K. (eds) 2014: Kulturkontakte in antiken Welten: vom Denkmodell zum Fallbeispiel. Proceedings des internationalen Kolloquiums aus Anlass des 60. Geburtstages von Christoph Ulf, Innsbruck, 26. bis 30. Januar 2009 (Leuven); Frevel, C., Pyschny, K., and Cornelius, I. (eds) 2014: A 'Religious Revolution' in Yehûd? The Material Culture of the Persian Period as a Test Case (Fribourg).
2.   Allen, L. 2005: The Persian Empire: A History (London); Brosius, M. 2000: The Persian Empire from Cyrus II to Artaxerxes I (London); Brosius, M. 2006: The Persians: An Introduction (London), BMCR 2007.10.10; Wiesehöfer, J. 2001: Ancient Persia: from 550 BC to 650 AD, 2nd English ed., trans. by A. Azodi (London) (=1993: Das antike Persien von 550 v. Chr. bis 650 n. Chr. [Zürich]); Kuhrt, A.I. 2007: The Persian Empire: A Corpus of Sources from the Achaemenid Period, (London).
3.   For 487/86 on p. 165 read 387/86. In further reading list, p. 227, Ruzcka should be Ruzicka (see BMCR 2013.03.21).
4.   For recent overviews, more explicit on postcolonial approaches: Colburn, H.P. 2011: 'Orientalism, Postcolonialism, and the Achaemenid Empire: Meditations on Bruce Lincoln's Religion, Empire, and Torture'. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 54, 87–103; McCaskie, T.C. 2012: '"As on a Darkling Plain": Practitioners, Publics, Propagandists, and Ancient Historiography'. Comparative Studies in Society and History 54, 145–73.
5.   J.M. Balcer's 1987 Herodotus and Bisitun: Problems in Ancient Persian Historiography (Stuttgart) is not referenced.
6.   More detail in Allen (see n. 2, above). Now on Susa Perrot, J. 2013: The Palace of Darius at Susa: The Great Royal Residence of Achaemenid Persia (London). ​

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Caspar Meyer, Greco-Scythian Art and the Birth of Eurasia: From Classical Antiquity to Russian Modernity. Oxford Studies in ancient culture and representation. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Pp. xxix, 431. ISBN 9780199682331. $160.00.

Reviewed by Stephanie West, Hertford College, Oxford (stephanie.west@hertford.ox.ac.uk)

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Though the focus of this subtle, learned, and closely argued book is primarily archaeological, discussion of masterpieces of craftsmanship is integrated with intellectual and ideological history in a study which could have been attempted only by a scholar prepared to face the risks of disregarding conventional disciplinary boundaries to explore the diverse implications of a topic (or rather a group of topics) not in the mainstream of anglophone scholarship. Hovering over Meyer's skilful and distinctive synthesis may be discerned the spirit of M. I. Rostovtzeff, whose work on the region's antiquities represents a watershed for subsequent study, but it would be misleading to suggest an uncritical adherence to Rostovtzeff's approach.

In Ch.1 ,'Introduction. Discovering Greco-Scythian art' ,Meyer offers a definition of 'Greco-Scythian' (first attested in 1822) and outlines the issues raised by this style. The term covers the combination of traditional nomadic object types with a classical, naturalistic, style of figure decoration, clearly differentiated from the so-called 'animal style','Tierstil', the form of theriomorphic surface decoration originating in Central Asia and popular throughout the Eurasian steppe. Such metalwork comes from elite tombs, the kurgans (barrows) of the middle Dnieper region and the neighbourhood of the Kerch straits. ¹ Recognition of its interest owed much to the publication (from 1830 onwards) of finds from Kul-Oba, a kurgan cemetery c.6 km to the west of Kerch. These became the nucleus of the collection of northern Black Sea antiquities at the Hermitage.

From this immensely impressive assemblage (dated c.350-300) one very attractive (and much reproduced) piece raises the major questions surrounding this form of craftsmanship. On a globular electrum cup four scenes depict Scythian warriors (Fig.3, p.13); one shows a man stringing a bow, another two figures in conversation, while two show the victims of injury, in one case to the leg, in the other to the mouth, receiving care from a comrade. It is not entirely satisfactory to take these scenes as vignettes illustrating Scythian social life; though fighting and hunting must often have led to injury, it would be strange to highlight its treatment in isolation from the exploits which made it necessary.

The cup gained a fresh interest with the suggestion of D.S. Raevskii that it should be interpreted by reference to the second of the myths of Scythian origins related by Herodotus (4.8-10) and credited to Greeks of the Black Sea littoral. Heracles (with whom the North Pontic Greeks evidently identified a Scythian hero), coming to Scythia in the course of his homeward journey from Spain, fathered three sons on a local divinity and left her with instructions that when they were full-grown she should subject them to tests involving his bow and belt; whichever was successful should stay, while the other two must leave. Raevskii argued that the scenes of medical treatment on the Kul-Oba vessel depict the injuries likely to result from unsuccesful attempts to string a Scythian bow: if the lower end, resting on the right thigh, slips, the bow springs back and strikes either the left leg or the lower jaw of the unlucky handler. The other two scenes may then be supposed to depict the successful candidate, the forefather of the Scythians, stringing the bow and in conversation (absorbing good advice from his father?).

While there are differences from Herodotus' narrative, what he reports must be a story transmitted orally, and we may compare similar deviation from Odyssey 9 in many of the vase-paintings interpreted as illustrating Odysseus' encounter with Polyphemus. Raevskii also associated with Herodotus' narrative the scenes depicted on a silver cup from a kurgan of the Chastye group, Voronezh region (Fig.5, p.27), which can convincingly be interpreted as showing the outcome of the test, with the youngest (beardless) son being offered his father's bow while his elder brothers prepare to depart.

The increasing recognition of the importance of mythical genealogies in the self-definition of ethnic groups lends Raevskii's analysis a particular appeal, but Meyer is among the sceptics (pp.26-28). His discussion of these pieces and of Rostovtzeff's boldly iranicizing interpretation of the less familiar Karagodeuaskh rhyton (Fig.6, p.29) highlights the issues raised by such fruitful crossing of cultural boundaries and the pressure to integrate archaeological and textual evidence. Who commissioned and who produced such pieces? (These are questions about ethnicity and status.) How far do they reflect social reality? Were they intended as primarily a convenient, easily portable means of displaying wealth, the more desirable as it became clear that pasture for vast herds of horses was not limitless? Or did they function mainly as ceremonial gifts, cementing formal friendships among elite members of different groups? How securely can they be dated?

Ch. 2 is largely museological, examining how, from the time of Peter the Great onwards, Russians were introduced to the visual culture of Greece and Rome. Pride of place goes to the New Hermitage, inaugurated in 1852, and the questions faced in the evolution of its arrangement well illustrate the more general problems of the reception of classical antiquity and the development of classical education in Russia.

Ch. 3, 'Defining the Corpus', tackles some of the questions suggested by the introductory chapter. Meyer emphasises the importance of the social and cultural contexts to which the artefacts classifiable as Greco-Scythian belong, and warns against the misconceptions almost inevitable when they are isolated, as they must generally be in museum displays, from their burial contexts. There is, moreover, as Herodotus was well aware (cf. 4.81.1), a fundamental and pervasive problem with the meaning of 'Scythian', worsened by a tendency, particularly noticeable in archaeological publication, to switch from treating it as marking a cultural category to ethnonymic usage.

Meyer shows how confusion on this point, combined with the attraction of linking archaeological evidence to Herodotus' references to a period of 28 years of 'Scythian' rule in Asia (1.103-6; 4.1;11-12; 118.4; 119.2), has affected treatment of the material from the Kelermes barrows, c.25 km north of Maikop, a highly significant link between Eurasian and Mediterranean archaeology. The Kelermes mirror (Fig, 38, p.101), late seventh or early sixth century, which depicts inter alia a griffin between two shaggy males, often designated Arimaspians, is commonly treated as Scythian but its relevance is decidedly questionable. It now seems clear that the horse-riding warriors buried with valuable artefacts at Kelermes had no connection with the group who in Herodotus' day controlled the region between the Danube and the Don.

In discussing 'Scythian' ethnicity we must allow for some fluidity. The evidence of physical anthropology indicates considerable diversity even among those whose manner of life was based on nomadic pastoralism, the elite, 'royal' Scythians, as Herodotus designates them (4.20), lords of a sedentary agricultural peasantry. Intermarriage among the elite, less formal unions with women captured in raiding, and the absorption of conquered groups contributed to the ethnic mix. No doubt by the mid-fourth century there were many on the northern Pontic coast who could claim mixed Greek, Scythian and Thracian ancestry, were fluent in more than one language, and familiar with the lore of more than one people. It is an obvious hypothesis that craftsmen with such a background took the initiative in producing Greco-Scythian artefacts. Meyer offers much of interest about the development and location of workshops, underlining the grounds for locating production of a high proportion of Greco-Scythian metalwork in Panticapaeum and other cities of the Cimmerian Bosporus.

Their history and culture is explored in Ch. 4, 'Political monuments of the early Spartocid State'. The names of the dynasty, which ruled for more than 300 years, are either Greek or Thracian (not Scythian), but the history of the state which overrode the conventional boundary between Europe and Asia is not much reflected in Greek texts except in relation to the Athenian corn-supply. Meyer is diligent, but not unduly speculative, in breathing life into the varied and often apparently unpromising material evidence available, returning to the central theme with the chapter's concluding sentence (p.187): 'When it came to winning over the masters of the steppe, precious metalwork was the vehicle of choice'.

Its interpretation is considered in Ch. 5, 'Looking at Greco-Scythian art'. 'The spread and persistence of Greco-Scythian metalwork show that the objects were meant to establish an exchange that went beyond an exchange in bullion, and that objects with finely wrought figure decoration were thought to accomplish the transfer more effectively than plain ones ' (p. 189). Exploring the imagery thus employed is, as we have seen with the Kul-Oba vessel, not straightforward.

One of the most interesting cases discussed is the figure frieze on the gorytos' (combined bow-case and quiver) gold overlay from the Chertomlyk kurgan; the popularity of this design is indicated by further examples recovered from Melitopol' and two other burials (Figs. 66, 67, 70, pp.196, 198). Clearly the scenes depicted were meant to tell a story, but the designer expected those who saw it to supply the links between the episodes represented. The characters' Greek dress encourages interpretation by reference to Greek legend. The most influential reading has been that of Carl Robert, who took it to reflect the story of Thetis' concealment of Achilles among the daughters of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, his detection by Diomedes and Odysseus, and the birth of his son, Neoptolemus, to Deidameia. Achilles' association with the Black Sea's northern coast, suggesting that he was early identified with a Scythian hero, recommends this interpretation, but it is not entirely easy. Other suggestions based on Greek mythology are no more convincing. The richness of the oral narrative traditions of Central Asia is better appreciated now than they were when the Chertomlyk gorytos first attracted scholarly attention, ² and a bold appeal to Scythian/ Iranian legend has been made by K.Stähler and H.-H. Nieswandt, ³ who bring out many difficulties in Robert's interpretation. But costume is against their approach— perhaps not impossibly so, but potential scenarios can only be exercises in imaginative speculation. Still, it must be significant that what appears to be the opening episode directs attention to a bow: might preeminence in archery be crucial to the hero's success (as in Herodotus' story of Heracles' three sons)?

Notwithstanding the substantial differences among the objects discussed Meyer discerns a common underlying principle (p.239): 'Greco-Scythian art can be seen to advertise as a possibility for positive behaviour a purified hyperbole of Scythian culture, evolving around notions of uninhibited personal authority, brute masculinity, and friendship – in short, the set of values that were at the core of the Bosporan system of elite ties with the steppe.' Yet the controversy surrounding the interpretation of individual instances may sap confidence in the formulation of any general conclusion, thought this does not detract from the persuasiveness of the argument that such artefacts were used to maintain a far-flung elite network connecting the Spartocid state with the steppe, a factor of immense importance in accounting for the long survival of the Bosporan kingdom, which, in its multiethnic character and transcendence of conventional continental boundaries, could be seen to prefigure the region's later development.

An appendix on 'Grave inventories of Bosporan elite kurgans of the fifth and fourth centuries BC: a summary guide to excavations conducted 1821-1917' offers a depressing reminder of what has been lost by the lack of adequate records of early excavations.

A map of the major urban sites and kurgans in the northern Black Sea region deserves more than a bare half-page (p.4). Proof-reading a work involving many languages and transliteration from several different scripts must have been daunting; I have noted remarkably few corrigenda in this fascinating and very readable book.

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Notes:

1.   In the orthography of toponyms I have followed Meyer's practice.
2.   For an excellent introduction see Kurt Reichl. Turkic Oral Epic Poetry, New York/London, 1992.
3.   Boreas 14/15 (1991/2) 85-108.

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Ben Russell, The Economics of the Roman Stone Trade. Oxford studies on the Roman economy. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Pp. xxi, 449. ISBN 9780199656394. $150.00.

Reviewed by Claire Holleran, The University of Exeter (c.holleran@exeter.ac.uk)

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Russell's thought-provoking new study of the economics of the Roman stone trade in the first three centuries AD reassesses the evidence for the structure and organisation of this trade, tracing the production process from the quarry to the final consumer. Russell argues in particular against the influential model set out by Ward-Perkins, which maintains that the increased demand for decorative stone resulted in an industry organised along 'quasi-industrial' lines, with objects being carved in quarries in standardised forms and dimensions to stock. While Russell does not deny that some limited production-to-stock took place, he places much greater emphasis on the role of production-to-order in the Roman stone trade. The approach taken is archaeological, with Russell offering a reassessment of old data and careful examination of new data. This allows him to skilfully marshal an impressive range of evidence to make his case, resulting in a useful and important book, with a clear and consistent, yet nuanced, argument throughout.

Another central concern is the relationship between the imperial and non-imperial stone trade, and the focus is not solely on the trade in marble for large building projects, which Russell rightly views as atypical. He considers the use of stone for domestic construction, road building, and so on, as well as providing detailed discussions of the trade in stone sarcophagi and statuary. In this way, Russell highlights the diversity of practice in the Roman stone trade, although inevitably much of the discussion remains focused on the more long-distance movement in exotic and unusual stones, since the evidence is skewed towards this type of trade; there is simply less to say about the local movement that was the backbone of the stone trade.

Stone is, of course, durable, and working traces and geological properties can reveal something about both its manufacture and place of origin. An analysis of stone can, therefore, offer broader insights into the Roman economy, and Russell brings out the wider resonance of his study well, engaging with current debates about the nature and performance of the Roman economy. This contribution to broader debates is one of the real strengths of Russell's book, although, as he recognises, stone is in many ways a special case. While an analysis of stone movement can provide some insight into levels of connectivity in the Roman world, it is notable that in his study of shipwrecks, the vast majority were probably carrying only stone, and while we cannot account for any perishables that may have been on the ships, other non-perishable items are rarely present, suggesting that the movement of stone need not necessarily reflect any wider patterns of trade.

The book comprises eight substantial chapters, with an introduction and a section of further remarks. The short introduction places the study into context and sets out the intention to challenge the prevailing model of Ward-Perkins, and to assess Peacock's claim that the imperial stone trade lay 'outside of the normal orbit of trade in marble and decorative stones'. Chapter two examines the demand for stone in the Roman world, its chronological and regional development, and patterns of investment. Russell demonstrates that the demand for stone was both general and specific, with a widespread growth in the cumulative demand for stone of all types, in addition to a targeted and disproportionately high demand for decorative stones. While imperial building projects drove a proportion of the trade, and set many of the fashions in the use of decorative stones, the collective demand from non-imperial activity was much higher.

Chapter three considers the process of quarrying. Using the quarry database of the Oxford Roman Economy Project, which includes almost 800 sites, Russell demonstrates that there was a close correspondence between the distribution of quarries and cities.¹ Most quarries were located as close as possible to the city that was their primary market, generally within 20-30 km, or a day's walk. Exemptions could, however, be made for material that was valuable enough to make its extraction profitable even if it were located in a remote or inaccessible place. The outlying quarries that were not found near cities, therefore, typically produced high-quality or unique materials. In practice, there was usually imperial involvement in these quarries, the most noticeable of which are those located in the Egyptian Eastern Desert, as the state had the resources to make the exploitation of these sites possible. The final trend that Russell notes in the distribution of quarries is the tendency for these to be located on the coast or close to a navigable river, a trend which is in part linked to the location of the cities that these quarries are intended to serve, but is primarily related to the need for accessibility. Russell also considers quarry ownership and administration here, highlighting the diversity of practice and drawing appropriate parallels with the structure and organisation of mining in the Roman world. Although much of our information about quarrying comes from the involvement of imperial officials at certain sites, he argues that these are actually anomalous, with the vast majority of quarries remaining in private or municipal ownership. Even within imperial quarries, there was no single model of exploitation, with choices made based on the requirements of a particular site; just as with mines, state involvement could be indirect or direct, using private contractors or state employees. At some sites, imperial and private quarrying took place side by side, making it difficult to draw a clear distinction between imperial and non-imperial exploitation.

Russell then turns his attention to stone transport, considering road, river, and sea transport. He explores a dataset of 82 shipwrecks, broadly datable to between the second and the fourth century AD, which reveal activity at every level. The vast majority of ships were carrying stone from a single source, and those with cargoes of stone from multiple sources appear to have been loaded at a single location, suggesting that most of these ships were involved in 'direct' or 'commissioned' trade. Chapter Five examines distribution patterns, focusing on which stones were used in which locations and why. Russell demonstrates the importance of taking into account the specific use of stone when considering distribution patterns, since it was considerably more difficult to move, say, a column than a veneer. Through a series of regional case studies exploring the use of stone in non-imperial architectural contexts, he demonstrates the dominance of local, and sometimes regional, distribution patterns, as well as the coastal focus of inter-regional distribution, best explained by the relative ease of importing stone to these locations. Indeed, the pattern of stone use at a particular site largely depended on its location, since inland sites rarely imported stone unless they were close to a navigable river. These sites still engaged with wider fashions, however, by finding local alternatives, using smaller amounts of imported stone for revetment or flooring, and reserving large architectural imported stones for prominent, high-status buildings. The chapter goes on to consider the varying distribution patterns of object types, especially sarcophagi and statuary, which outside the imperial context tended to move the greatest distances. Unlike Ward-Perkins, who maintains that the dominance of a particular stone in a location was due to supply lines and targeting by that particular producer, Russell places the emphasis on consumer choice and local fashions. He then explores imperial distribution patterns, which are described as 'self-consciously atypical' (pg. 184). He argues that the aim of imperial involvement was simply to guarantee sufficient supplies of prestigious building material for imperial building projects, and was never entirely divorced from the non-imperial stone trade. He does, however, concede that imperial involvement may have skewed the market (as it did other markets in the Roman world), since the emperor could draw on enormous reserves of manpower, and requisition animals and vehicles where needed.

As different types of object were valued, used, and purchased in different ways, Russell considers building materials, sarcophagi, and statuary in a series of separate chapters. The chapter on building materials re-examines Ward-Perkins' model of quarry-based production-to-stock, arguing that the data do not support this interpretation; the considerable quantities of partially-worked architectural elements that remain in quarries come in a range of sizes that point to diversity rather than standardisation. The emphasis is placed instead on production-to-order, with Russell making the case for a more responsive system in which most architectural elements were produced to meet specific customer demand. Any patterns in dimensions and forms – for example, the popularity of larger column shafts in multiples of 5 or 10 Roman feet – are said to reflect contemporary architectural practice and standardisation of demand, rather than standardisation of supply. Furthermore, the architectural elements abandoned in quarries were not unwanted stock items, but were rejected due to damage or flaws; any accumulations of stock at quarries or in centres of demand such as Rome are classed as largely unintentional.

In considering the sarcophagus trade, Russell again focuses on the issue of production-to-stock, arguing that despite the relatively constant demand for these items in the second and third centuries AD, production-to-order was still the dominant model, with most sarcophagi ordered during the lifetime of the intended occupant. That is not to deny that there was some production-to-stock, both intentional and unintentional, but this was not the norm. The roughed-out sarcophagi in quarries were not standard sizes, and do not, therefore, necessarily indicate production in anticipation of demand. The shipwreck data cited by Russell also suggests that sarcophagi were not standardised. Typically, the hollowing out and roughing out of sarcophagi was done at the quarry (reducing the weight by as much as half), with further finishing close to where it was originally intended to be used. The exceptions to this are Attic and Asiatic sarcophagi, which were specialist items aimed at the very highest end of the market; Attic sarcophagi in particular appear to have been largely exported from Athens in their final form. Even when it comes to the Attic, Asiatic, and Metropolitan producers of sarcophagi, Russell puts forward a production model based largely on clusters of independent workshops, rather than any quasi-industrial enterprises; division of labour was limited, since small workshops had to remain flexible, although it was possible to have multiple carvers working at once to increase the speed of production. With statue production also, production-to-stock is viewed as limited, with statues found at quarry sites showing even more variation than architectural elements or sarcophagi.

The book ends with some 'final remarks', reiterating the main arguments. The interaction between the imperial and non-imperial stone trade is emphasised, as is the fact that most quarries were small-scale enterprises, rooted in the local market and under private or municipal control. Markets were predominantly local, but even outside of the imperial sphere, there was movement of stone, particularly to areas close to the coast or navigable rivers. Furthermore, while the archaeological evidence indicates that certain objects in the Roman world were standardised and produced to stock (e.g. ceramics, glassware, bricks etc.), the same cannot be said for stone items; these may have been produced in large quantities, but individual workshops remained the norm and much was made to order. Fundamentally, in this important and timely reappraisal of the Roman stone trade, Russell argues that quarrying and production were much more responsive than the Ward-Perkins model allows, heavily determined by very specific patterns of consumer demand.

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Notes:

1.   Russell's doctoral thesis, on which this book is based, was undertaken as part of this project at Oxford. He also compiled the very useful quarry database, which is publically available on the project website.

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Emily Mackil, Creating a Common Polity: Religion, Economy, and Politics in the Making of the Greek Koinon. Hellenistic culture and society, 55. Berkeley; Los Angeles; London: University of California Press, 2013. Pp. xvii, 593. ISBN 9780520272507. $95.00.

Reviewed by Jacek Rzepka, Warsaw University (jrzepka@uw.edu.pl)

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The present book is testimony to a rising interest in Greek federal states and adds measurably to the study of it. ¹ Although the title suggests a general treatment of factors leading to the making of Greek federal states, the author restricts her research to the three best-known federations: the Boeotian, Achaean and Aetolian Leagues, which are studied in great detail. ²

The book itself is clearly structured, one part providing a traditional political history of the three areas under research, and the other part aiming at explanation of religious, economic and political patterns facilitating the rise of Greek federations. A valuable addition is an appendix containing the most important epigraphic texts cited in the main text, both in the original and in commented translation.

The first, narrative part is not a systematic and full-scale treatment of the fates of Achaea, Aetolia, and Boeotia but rather an introductory overview, and as such it is not free of omissions and oversimplifications. For example, One may wonder why the author in studying patterns behind the making of Greek federal states ignores the process of disintegration of the Aetolian League, referred to by Thucydides. ³ On the other hand, one cannot disagree with the author when she interprets the rise of federal institutions in Aetolia in the early fourth century B.C. as a countermeasure against territorial losses and external aggression (p. 345).

The analytic part offers a study of cultic, economic and political factors behind Greek federalism. The cultic section is very technical, and tends to understand Greek religion as purely ritual. The book offers and analyses a lot of data about sacred precincts, temples, cultic artworks as well as about festivals, sacred delegates and officials, but is less detailed about local myths and tales that built ethnic unity, such as the official charter myths of the Arcadian and Achaean Leagues described in detail by ancient authors. With information dispersed in scholia, lexicographers as well as in other seemingly unrelated genres we may even trace the myths of Aetolia, and I think that an analysis of known regional myths would be a valuable addition to Mackil's conclusions on federal cultic networks. ⁴ Yet, even with the evidence she studied, Mackil's insights are innovative, and she shows important differences between the leagues. She stresses that religious interactions helped to build "a sense of community beyond boundaries of the individual polis" in Boeotia and to a degree in Achaea, whereas in Aetolia religious community preceded the growth of polis. In each of her test-cases Mackil was also able to indicate examples of the opposite: political events determining or accelerating religious processes (like the growth of the sanctuary of Apollo at Thermos in replacement of Artemis Laphria in Calydon after the Aetolians lost control over their coastal cities in the fifth century).

Mackil's contribution to understanding Greek federal states as common markets is of great value, too. She skilfully combines data and opinions from literary texts with documentary sources and with information concerning rural economy and local market-places in early modern Greece. She understands leagues as interest groups competing with other political entities for resources. One important factor in Greek leagues' policies was a tendency on the one hand to widen access to the sea, and on the other to make the own internal market fuller. In the latter regard Mackil makes an interesting observation that the landed Boeotians fought for greater access to the sea, whereas the peninsular Chalkidians were more "interested in landward expansion". She studies coinage, federal taxes, duties, state intervention in landed property, and pays attention to federal arbitration among the constituent poleis. In regard to diversity and scope of material consulted, the work is indeed pioneering. Still the author is aware of inevitable oversights. I would hint here at two such omissions. First, an important category of documents related both to local economies and sacral geography of North-Western Greece are manumissions made in local, regional and supra-regional sanctuaries, evidently related to local, regional and supra-regional market centers. ⁵ I believe, too, that one could collect data on homoethnoi being residents in member cities of their league in order to assess to what degree one or another league was truly a common market. Much could be said about mobility within Hellenistic Boeotia, Aetolia (with Delphi) and Thessaly (again one may regret this research does not include Thessaly).

It should be clearly stated that this book, in spite of minor problems, deserves high praise. It offers a wealth of useful, hardly accessible information and interesting insights into the workings of Greek federal states, and may be recommended not only to classicists and ancient historians, but also to students of politics.

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Notes:

1.   The year 2013 alone saw publication of two other important books in the field: P. Funke and M. Haake (eds.) Greek Federal States and Their Sanctuaries: Identity and Integration, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013; and E. Meyer, The Inscriptions of Dodona and a New History of Molossia, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013. The former is also a forerunner to a collected volume to be published by Cambridge University Press under the supervision of P. Funke and H. Beck and intended to replace the 1968 Greek Federal States by J.A.O. Larsen.
2.   I wonder if a true "Big Picture" of Greek federal states is possible without a systematic study of Thessalian, Acarnanian and Arcadian conditions. The restriction of Mackil's research to only the three leagues mentioned above suggests that the relation between the original 2003 Princeton dissertation and the present book is closer than the author admits. Some relevant publications of the last ten years are absent from the list, e.g. C. Lasagni, Il concetto di realtà locale nel mondo greco. Uno studio introduttivo nel confronto tra poleis e stati federali, Roma 2011.
3.   Mackil focuses on Achaean aggression against native Aetolian Calydon and Pleuron but does not notice that a period of independence prior to an annexation by the Achaeans would explain the ease of Achaean conquests on the northern shore of the Corinthian Gulf much better. Thucydides (iii.102) states that the cities of coastal Aetolia formed a region called Aeolis in his time. See: S. Bommelje, "Aeolis in Aetolia. Thuc. Ill 102, 5 and the origins of the Aetolian ethnos", Historia 37 (1988), 297-316. Mackil has this article in her bibliography, but neither follows it nor offers her interpretation of Thucydides' passage.
4.   While major historians and prose writers were certainly consulted, as well as fragmentary authors available in specialised collections of "fragments", I would say that valuable information, especially on local traditions, could be inferred from less obvious texts: anecdotic collections, geographers, paroemiographers and paradoxographers.
5.   The West Locrian and Phocian manumissions are especially relevant to the Aetolian economy, see: E. Nachmanson, „Freilassungurkunden aus Lokris", MDAI(A) 32, 1907, pp. 1-70; K.D. Albrecht, Rechtsprobleme in den Freilassungen der Böotier, Phoker, Dorier, Ost- und Westlokrer : untersucht mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der gemeinschaftlich vorgenommenen Freilassungsakte. Paderborn 1978.

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