Bryn Mawr Classical Review

Michael Geiger, Gallienus. Frankfurt am Main, Bern: Peter Lang, 2013. Pp. 433. ISBN 9783653036510. $87.95.

Reviewed by William E. Metcalf, Yale University (william.metcalf@yale.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

This work began life as a dissertation presented at the University of Augsburg, and although the author claims (5) to have reworked and shortened it, it betrays its origins, particularly in the number and extent of the footnotes. It begins with a general introduction, with a paragraph or two devoted to each of several major cruces in the reign of Gallienus, followed by a brief history of modern scholarship and views of the emperor (1-27). There follows a treatment of the sources, broken down into literary sources from the 3^rd century, the 4^th and 5^th, and the 6^th and after, going all the way through the Suda, Leo Grammaticus, Kedrenus, Zonaras, and the "Synopsis Sathas." It is acknowledged that the serious discussions of Gallienus begin with the more canonical Aurelius Victor, Eutropius, Pseudo-Aurelius Victor, Zosimus and Zonaras, in addition to the Historia Augusta (61).¹ The few epigraphic sources are mentioned, as well as the papyrological ones; of the latter it is remarked that they are particularly valuable during the sole reign of Gallienus, as providing the dates of, for example, the rise of the Macriani and the death of Gallienus. Numismatic sources are cited as well, and it has to be said that in the appreciation of the significance of coins some better literature in English is omitted in favor of German-language treatments.²

A systematic approach to the problems of the reign is followed throughout. The book breaks down this way:

1 Introduction
2 Sources
3 The family
4 "Ereignisgeschichte"
5 The coinage
6 The development of Gallienus' portrait
7 Gallienus' philhellenism
8 Persecution of the Christians
9 Salonina
10 Economic development and price increases in the time of Gallienus
11 Developments in military and provincial administration
12 Summary
13 Bibliography
14 Abbreviations
15 Index of persons
16 Illustrations of coins

The table of contents for Section 2 occupies about a page, section 4 more than a page, 11 about half a page of subheadings. There are over 200 headings and subheadings in the book, meaning that (bibliography apart) less than 2 pages are devoted to each. The sense of fragmentation is overwhelming, and the reader is challenged to determine which problems are important, which not; which may rely on existing work, which are dealt with anew. Chapters 5 and 6 are not properties of a biography at all, and both are derivative to an extent that would have permitted their incorporation in the text. Chapter 5 starts with consideration of the chronology; here Göbl's Moneta Imperii Romani vols. 26, 43 and 44 (Vienna, 2000, but based on his 1950 dissertation) is cited throughout, an unfortunate choice since the work is eccentric in presentation and arrangement and adheres to a questionable methodology; still, its chronology is not far from that of more modern studies. Chapter 6, on portraiture, adheres quite strictly to the chronologies of Fittschen and Bergmann, and once again might have been incorporated in the text rather than treated separately.

As the Table of Contents shows, the book is not a biography, and indeed it is questionable whether a biography could be written. It is difficult enough to write the history of Gallienus' times, and the perception of a personality depends upon sources that are either exiguous (Dexippus, Sybilline Oracle), distant in time (Orosius, Aurelius Victor and pseudo-Aurelius Victor), partly fictional (Historia Augusta), biased, or some combination of all of these. These are not much different from the challenges facing the biographer of any Roman emperor, but in other cases there is more ancillary material to confirm or modify the picture drawn by the sources. Here this is almost entirely lacking (see section 2.2, which occupies two pages, on epigraphical sources; section 2.3, less than a page, on papyri).

The book has no index of places, and would benefit from an index locorum, which would no doubt demonstrate the heavy use of the Historia Augusta. The bibliography is thorough and would have benefited from being more analytical.

All in all, this book is adequate as a guide to the source material, but would have benefited from a more critical approach to the sources and deeper inquiry into the non-literary evidence. It will be useful to the student just starting out in the study of this period, but there is little here for the specialist.

---

Notes:

1.   The inclusion of these later sources leads to their misuse, since frequently they are used as testimonia. For example, at 75 the birth of Gallienus is given as 218 on the basis of evidence provided by (Pseudo-) Aurelius Victor, Malalas, the Synopsis Sathas, where either or both of the latter two may be dependent on the first. There is nothing implausible about the date given, and it has been universally accepted, but it rests on fragile evidence.
2.   I do not know where the author went to make up his list of mints active under Valerian and Gallienus, but the presence on it of both Cologne (Colonia Agrippinensis) and Samosata (68) would raise some eyebrows.

(read complete article)

Michael J. Taylor, Antiochus the Great. Barnsley: Pen & Sword Military, 2013. Pp. xviii, 190. ISBN 9781848844636. $39.95.

Reviewed by Filippo Canali De Rossi, Liceo Classico Dante Alighieri (canali.filippo@libero.it)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Il libro è una biografia di Antioco III inserita nella storia della dinastia dei Seleucidi, a partire dal fondatore Seleuco I Nicatore fino agli ultimi epigoni. È la storia di un grande impero sovranazionale e delle strategie messe in atto per la sua creazione e successiva espansione, conservazione e difesa della sua esistenza.

Nel primo capitolo l'autore traccia un panorama della estensione territoriale del dominio di Antioco III, e ne fa risalire la genesi al fondatore Seleuco I che, insediatosi nella satrapia di Babilonia dopo la uccisione del reggente Perdicca, ne fu cacciato dal nuovo aspirante al dominio universale Antigono. Seleuco, rifugiatosi presso Tolemeo, contribuì alla vittoria su Demetrio Poliorcete a Gaza e, con l'aiuto del sovrano lagide, riuscì a reimpadronirsi di Babilonia. Una rottura nell'asse con Tolemeo intervenne nel momento in cui quest'ultimo, assente nella battaglia di Ipso vinta dalla coalizione dei diadochi su Antigono, ne approfittò per impadronirsi della Celesiria, che resterà attraverso le generazioni un motivo di contesa fra le dinastie. Seleuco, da parte sua, provvedeva ad assicurarsi sul confine orientale tramite un accordo con il sovrano maurya Chandragupta, che gli fornì 500 elefanti in cambio di concessioni territoriali.

La storia delle successive generazioni passa attraverso la figura della regina Stratonice, figlia del Poliorcete, la cui mano venne ceduta da Seleuco al figlio Antioco I. Dopo la vittoria di Seleuco I su Lisimaco e la morte ad opera del traditore Tolemeo Cerauno, il regno passò definitivamente sulle spalle del rampollo Antioco I. Questi si guadagnò un credito personale grazie alla vittoria sui Galati, ai quali impose lo stanziamento in una zona circoscritta dell'Asia minore. Suo figlio Antioco II, succedutogli attorno al 261 a.C.¹ indebolì il regno con una imprudente politica matrimoniale, passando dall'unione con la cugina Laodice a quella con la principessa egiziana Berenice.

Alla morte di Antioco II, avvenuta nel 246 a.C., vi fu la presa del potere da parte di Seleuco II, figlio avuto dalla prima moglie Laodice, e la conseguente invasione del regno da parte di Tolemeo III per difendere i diritti del nipote, figlio della seconda moglie Berenice. Intanto la rivolta dei satrapi della Partia e della Battriana, Andragora e Diodoto, preludeva alla formazione di regni orientali indipendenti. Un altro elemento di sofferenza nel regno di Seleuco II fu la rivolta del fratello Antioco Ierace in Asia minore. Da Seleuco II nacque il nostro Antioco, che succederà al breve regno del fratello maggiore Seleuco III (226-223 a.C.), deceduto nel tentativo di sloggiare dall'Asia minore Attalo I di Pergamo.

Dopo una disamina sullo stato del regno alla accessione di Antioco III, l'autore passa in rassegna i principali eventi storici del suo dominio, a cominciare (capitolo II) dalla usurpazione di Molone, satrapo della Media. A questa si associò la rivendicazione di indipendenza di Acheo cugino di Antioco, cui era affidata l'Asia minore, e la guerra contro Attalo di Pergamo. In tale frangente Antioco III venne però indotto dall'interessato consigliere Ermia ad occuparsi soltanto della guerra contro Tolemeo per la Celesiria. Inizialmente pertanto Molone colse alcuni successi sui generali incaricati di condurre la guerra, ma una volta venuto a capo degli intrighi di corte, Antioco III mosse personalmente contro Molone, sbaragliandone l'esercito ed inducendolo al suicidio.

Instaurata una tregua con il cugino Acheo (i cui soldati si erano rifiutati di seguirlo in una impresa contro il re), Antioco fu libero di affrontare con decisione la contesa con l'Egitto, iniziando con la riconquista di Seleucia Pieria. L'autore pertanto, che oltre ad avere una esperienza accademica ha anche militato con l'esercito americano in Kosowo, Kuwait ed Iraq, passa in rassegna le istituzioni, e soprattutto le forze militari a disposizione di Antioco III in questo momento cruciale (cap. III). Lo sforzo bellico condotto contro Tolemeo IV, anch'egli da poco succeduto al trono, culminò nella battaglia di Raphia del 217 a.C. (cap. IV), per la quale il re egiziano per la prima volta aveva reclutato un largo contingente di nativi, decisivo nella risoluzione dello scontro. La pace che seguì lasciava però Antioco in possesso di Seleucia Pieria ed egli si volse così ad affrontare l'usurpazione del cugino (cap. V), che venne assediato nella sua capitale Sardi, fino a che la città venne espugnata con un colpo di mano e lo stesso Acheo mutilato e decapitato.

Il capitolo VI è dedicato alla cosiddetta anabasi di Antioco III, la spedizione verso le alte satrapie del suo regno, intrapresa nel 212 a.C. Essa, attraverso una serie di tappe intermedie (Armenia, Media, Partia), lo portò ad affrontare l'usurpatore greco della Battriana, Eutidemo. Un ambasciatore inviato da quest'ultimo al campo di Antioco ebbe modo tuttavia di presentare il dominio di Eutidemo come vantaggioso per Antioco: questi a sua volta promise in moglie al futuro sovrano della Battriana, Demetrio, una delle sue figlie. Ultima tappa della spedizione orientale fu l'incontro con Sofagaseno, erede della dinastia Maurya di Chandragupta ed Asoka, il quale concesse ad Antioco una nuova fornitura di elefanti. Infine nel ritorno Antioco ebbe occasione di visitare alcune località del golfo Persico, fra cui Gerrha. Nell'insieme la spedizione rinforzò la posizione del sovrano procurandogli, in imitazione di Alessandro, l'appellativo di 'Grande'.

Antioco era così pronto ad affrontare la sfida con i Romani, già vincitori del suo collega macedone Filippo, sfida che avrebbe deciso il destino del suo regno (cap. VII). Prima che si arrivasse ad una dichiarazione di guerra, i due stati navigarono a lungo in uno stato di latente ostilità (la cosiddetta 'pace infida'), dovuta alla esistenza, vera o presunta, di un patto segreto fra Antioco III e Filippo V di Macedonia per dividersi le spoglie del dominio dei Tolemei, approfittando della immatura età del nuovo sovrano Tolemeo V. Antioco assistette perciò da spettatore interessato alla guerra dei Romani con Filippo e, attraverso un gioco di scambi diplomatici,² cercò di mettere piede in Europa senza lasciarsi intimorire dai Romani, a loro volta sollecitati da alcune città d'Asia a garantirne la libertà dalla ingerenza seleucide.

A scatenare senz'altro la guerra fu l'iniziativa presa dagli Etoli di invitare Antioco in Grecia, da poco sgomberata dalle forze di Flaminino, invito al quale il re né si sottrasse, né si presentò con forze adeguate (cap. VIII). Insediatosi nella città euboica di Calcide, Antioco III indulse poi a nuove nozze con la figlia di un notabile locale e, presentandosi di fatto come il successore di un esautorato Filippo, rese gli estremi onori alle ossa lasciate insepolte dei caduti macedoni di Cinoscefale. La guerra venne poi risolta in Grecia dalla battaglia delle Termopili, ed ebbe un seguito in Asia, preceduto dagli scontri navali di Side, Cisso, Mionneso. Lo sbarco dei Romani in Asia fu accompagnato da trattative, in cui Antioco III si mostrava ora pronto a concedere ai Romani le loro richieste iniziali, inclusa la liberazione di alcune città, mentre il console Lucio Scipione e suo fratello Publio esigevano l'evacuazione di tutta l'Asia minore al di qua del Tauro.

Pertanto, rifiutando Antioco tali condizioni si addivenne allo scontro finale presso Magnesia al Sipilo (cap. IX): la descrizione della battaglia da parte dell'autore è molto dettagliata, con la presentazione dei luoghi e delle forze in campo. Probabilmente la disfatta ebbe inizio dal movimento disordinato di alcuni elefanti che scompigliò la falange macedone, esponendola all'assalto delle legioni, cosicché, a detta di Livio, le perdite risultarono in oltre 50.000 uomini dell'esercito seleucidico contro poche centinaia di Romani. In seguito alla battaglia, attraverso una serie di intermediari, nuovamente Antioco intavolò trattative con Scipione in Apamea, da cui scaturirono severe condizioni di pace, che includevano la consegna dei consiglieri etoli e, in particolare, del cartaginese Annibale.

Antioco poté conservare il suo regno e cercò di rafforzarlo come poteva, incontrandò però difficoltà finanziarie alle quali si sforzò di rimediare attingendo alle risorse templari. Durante uno di questi tentativi, nel 187 a.C. egli venne assassinato in Elam, all'età di 53 anni. Segue un capitolo in cui l'autore descrive i successivi eventi della dinastia, nei quali erano destinate ad avere peso le trame intessute da Roma, dove alcuni dei futuri sovrani seleucidi a lungo dimorarono come ostaggi, in conseguenza degli accordi di Apamea.

Si tratta, come si può vedere, di un libro denso di avvenimenti e di altre notizie, qui riassunte solo in maniera parziale, che l'autore narra in uno stile avvincente, senza imporre ai fatti una visione marcatamente ideologica della storia. Il libro è corredato da una serie di illustrazioni in bianco e nero stampate su carta lucida e presenta una serie di carte geografiche (pure in bianco e nero) ed alcune appendici dinastiche e cronologiche. Sia per la veste che per il taglio narrativo, il libro appare indirizzato ad un pubblico di lettori colti piuttosto che ad un ambito specialistico di ricerca.³ Non mancano però saggi di analisi più approfondita (in particolare per quanto riguarda la storia militare, nella quale anche editorialmente il libro si iscrive) e riferimenti alla bibliografia più recente.⁴ Accanto alla ricchezza degli aspetti informativi dobbiamo però anche lamentare una certa sciattezza linguistica ed editoriale,⁵ che si manifesta in particolare nella grafia dei nomi antichi,⁶ ma anche in alcune sviste di ordine storico.⁷

---

Notes:

1.   Taylor (p. 161) anticipa l'accessione di Antioco II al 264 a.C., ma non trovo riscontri per questa data.
2.   Rinvio alla mia recente trattazione in Le relazioni diplomatiche di Roma, IV. Dalla 'liberazione della Grecia' alla pace infida con Antioco III (201-194 a.C.), Roma 2014.
3.   L'autore evidenzia questa scelta rimandando gli specialisti all'opera in tedesco di H.H. Schmitt, Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Antiochos' des Grossen und seiner Zeit, 1964.
4.   J. Ma, Antiochus III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor, Oxford 1999 è citato a p. 71. L'opera di Aperghis sulla economia seleucidica è citata in maniera diversa nel testo (p. 50 e n. 36: G.G. Aphergis, Seleucid Economy) e nella bibliografia (p. 184: Makis Aperghis, Seleukid Economy).
5.   Alcune espressioni in lingua inglese sembrano viziate da errori tipografici: p. 101: according to an inscription from King Antiochus to Ilium; p. 127: the pleb(e)ian consul; p. 128: it would brought the total number; p. 149: all grievances are (to) be submitted; p. 159: he was stood triumphant; p. 157: every private household (was) filled with gloom.
6.   P. 18: Politeia, non Politikon; p. 29: Ct(e)siphon; p. 37: BASILEW(S) ; p. 40: Ptolem(ai)c; p. 57, 67, 68, 87: Sosib(i)us; p. 74: Anaiti(s); p. 77: S(y)r(i)nx; p. 77: Hectambylos = Hecatompylos? P. 78, 145: archi(e)re(u)s; p. 82: Mayaran = Maurya?; p. 82: Sophag(a)senus; p. 83: Dra(n)giana; p. 92: Aetoli[e]an; p. 99: Is(t)hm(i)an; p. 107: Flamini(n)us; p. 110: Philopoem(e)n; p. 122: A[n]thamanian; p. 132: Semp[e]ronius; p. 152: Pharn(a)ces; p. 152, 153: Philomet(o)r; p. 153: Popilius Laen(a)s; p. 156: Her(a)clides; p. 157: la grafia Mithradites mi sembra inusuale.
7.   A p. 19, l'autore attribuisce a Cartagine (piuttosto che alla iniziativa personale di Annibale) lo sforzo bellico intrapreso contro Roma. A p. 83-84 egli sostiene che Antioco avrebbe popolato Antiochia in Perside con coloni della Tessaglia, ma nel documento (anche in Iscrizioni dello Estremo Oriente Greco, nr. 252) si parla espressamente solo di Magnesia al Meandro. Della legazione inviata dai Romani ad Antioco III (p. 92) nulla sappiamo circa l'arrivo ad Antiochia; cfr. ora Le relazioni IV cit., nr. 808; i legati non avevano facoltà di proclamare Antioco 'amico ed alleato del popolo Romano': sarà un pronunciamento del senato (ibid. nr. 889) a farlo. P. 99: la proclamazione ai giochi Istmici è dell'anno 196 a.C.; p. 102 chiaramente Ptolemy è una svista per Philip; p. 109: Demetrio era il figlio più giovane di Filippo, non il più anziano. P. 123: le Termopili lasciavano al passaggio non poche centinaia ma solo pochi metri. P. 140: comandante delle legioni romane a Magnesia fu il legato Gneo Domizio (console del 192 a.C.) piuttosto che Lucio Scipione. P. 153: la commissione era di dieci (non dodici) legati.

(read complete article)

Charikleia Armoni, Das Archiv der Taricheuten Amenneus und Onnophris aus Tanis (P.Tarich). Abhandlungen der Nordrhein-Westfälischen Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Künste, Sonderreihe Papyrologica Coloniensia, 37. Paderborn; München; Wien; Zürich: Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh, 2013. Pp. vii, 129. ISBN 9783506779342. €16.90 (pb).

Reviewed by Marja Vierros, University of Helsinki (marja.vierros@helsinki.fi)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

This book is an edition of 18 papyri written in the Arsinoite nome of Hellenistic Egypt between ca. 189–184 BCE. One of the texts was written in Demotic Egyptian (edited by H.-J. Thissen in this volume) and the rest were written in Greek and are edited by Armoni. The texts deal with a dispute among embalmers (taricheutai) over the privilege of performing their occupation in the village of Philadelpheia. The papyri of the dossier present the point of view of two (occasionally three) embalmers from the village of Tanis. Their opponents are three embalmers in Philadelpheia. The case concerns the geras (right, privilegium) to collect and/or salt bodies (the exact contents of the duties of the taricheutai are not known) previously held by a certain Psenephmus, son of Paos, who had died during the Great Revolt, apparently while taking part in the mutiny (at least that is what the case is built upon). The papyri in question place us in the middle of a period of unrest in Hellenistic Egypt, the so-called Great Revolt of Haronnophris and Chaonnophris¹ which began in the last year of Ptolemy IV Philopator (206/205) in the South and continued for 20 years. The texts are mostly petitions to officials, but there is also, e.g., correspondence between officials (text 12). These texts are an important addition to our knowledge of legal disputes, especially because we have several related petitions spanning many years. There is also some insinuation of bribery, and the embalmers spend some time in prison.

Armoni starts with 27 pages of introduction, where she discusses the contents of the texts, persons involved, and different officials attested as well as the Great Revolt. The author's expertise in Hellenistic administration is an asset in this discussion. Some of the officials are known: the dioiketes Bakchon (only attested twice before); a certain Ptolemaios carrying the court title τῶν φίλων, probably the strategos of Arsinoites; and the epimeletai Alexandros and Argeios. Previously unknown officials appear as well e.g. the epimeletes Hephaistion and the royal scribe Petosiris. A new official title is also attested: a certain Drimylos carried the title ὁ πρὸς τῶι παρασφραγισμῶι. He resided in Krokodilon polis. The title implies participation in sealing, and Armoni suggests that he had jurisdiction over imprisonment. Another police official is archiphylakites Demetrios, a previously unattested holder of that position.

The petitions are addressed to many different people, but they all seem to be connected to the court of chrematistai (the judges handling Greek cases, as opposed to the laokritai, the Egyptian judges). Armoni discusses the officials (πρὸς τῆι ἐπιμελείαι τῶν χρηματιστῶν and εἰσαγωγεύς) and the court to some extent, but does not discuss why the court of chrematistai (and, as a consequence, the Greek language) is chosen for this matter. Probably this is because the matter of geras belonged to the state and the royal treasury; and thus the embalmers had to write petitions in Greek, even though their names and profession were Egyptian. Therefore the traces of their own language are important. The Demotic text (15) was apparently a draft for a Greek petition, and traces of Demotic are found in the verso of text 14, which itself was a Greek version of a Demotic division contract.

After the introductory chapters the texts follow. The numbers run from 1 to 15, but in three cases there are two versions of the same text (A and B). A photograph of each papyrus is provided at the end of the book (except for 6B verso). All texts have an introduction and a commentary, as well as a translation. The commentaries are thorough and helpful in providing references.

Several of the first petitions from 189–8 are written from prison. In texts 1 and 2 Amenneus and Onnophris are asking to be released because they are being held there for no reason. Text 4 states that five months have passed and they are still in custody. Then there is a gap of two or three years and in 186 we hear of this dispute again: Amenneus and Onnophris are reporting (text 6A and 6B) to the dioiketes that their opponents have profited from the geras without paying a proper price. Apparently the Amnesty Decree of Ptolemy V, published in October 186, began a new phase in the dispute. Amenneus and Onnophris build their case that the property of those who have taken part in the rebellion should be confiscated and treated as adespoton. Therefore the geras should be freely made available to new owners through an auction. After the report (text 6), Onnophris alone sends several petitions, until finally in 184 Amenneus and Onnophris make an offer to buy the geras from the royal treasury (text 10). Then we have a petition complaining how this offer has been treated (text 11) and, most interestingly, some official correspondence (text 12) describing how the matter proceeded after April 184. Text 14 is a contract of division, but it is so fragmentary that we do not have proper dating or the details of what exactly is being divided. The last document in the edition, a Demotic draft of a petition, was also written after April 184 but is too fragmentary to give us details how this dispute ended.

These papyri deal with an intriguing topic and it is good to have this edition in our hands, shedding more light on the turbulent period of the revolt. However, as an editor of primary sources which other scholars (historians and linguists, for example) will later rely on, Armoni has left out some essential data. We are not provided with any information where, when, and how the papyri became a part of the Cologne collection.² Discussion of how these texts came together and who was likely to be the keeper of the archive would make it easier to decide whether it is valid to call this an archive.³ Armoni does state in the beginning that these documents are drafts. Therefore it seems likely that they were stored together among the personal papers of one of the antagonists. However, the discussion of the grounds on which these papyri are said to be drafts is also lacking.⁴

Nor is there any discussion of the handwriting. It would be useful to know whether the editor, as the most qualified expert on the texts, thinks that some of the texts were written in the same handwriting; then we could make assumptions on how the drafting and writing processes went and whose language we are dealing with (the photographs make the comparison of hands difficult because the scale is not the same in all of them and you cannot place the pages side by side). The bilingual nature of the dossier makes the texts interesting for a linguist as well as someone studying scribal practices. We seem to have evidence that first a Demotic version was made, then a Greek draft — or even two — before the final version, which was then sent and has not survived. That tells us something about linguistic skills and literacy. Hence it would be good to have the editor's opinion whether some of the texts were written by the same hand.

There is some inconsistency in including the apparatus criticus in the editions. Text 1 does not have an apparatus: the suggested standard forms of words are presented in the commentary. Text 2 contains an apparatus, but not text 3 — and so on. Some hastiness is reflected also in the fact that the lacunae do not contain any estimation of the number of missing letters. Some minor typos exist, but they are not grave: the document number in the last photograph should be 15, not 14, and there are some letters in Greek font in the translation of text 12.

Despite these gaps, this edition is an important contribution both for the legal and administrative history of Hellenistic Egypt as well as for studying scribal practices and language through papyrological archives. One hopes that some of the aspects mentioned above will be discussed in separate studies.

---

Notes:

1.   See A.-E. Veïsse, Les "revoltes égyptiennes": recherches sur les troubles intérieurs en Égypte du règne de Ptolémée III Evergète à la conquête romaine. Studia Hellenistica 41. Leuven: Peeters 2004.
2.   The inventory numbers (for which a concordance is not provided) are all between 21353–21379, so it seems the papyri were acquired at the same time. It would be interesting to know why some papyri within that inventory number range are not part of this publication.
3.   Later compilation of texts dealing with the same people and subject matter was not necessarily an archive in antiquity. See the discussion on definitions of archives and dossiers in B. Van Beek, "Ancient Archives and Modern Collections. The Leuven Homepage of Papyrus Archives and Collections" in Jaakko Frösén, Tiina Purola, Erja Salmenkivi (eds.), Proceedings of the 24th International Congress of Papyrology, Helsinki, 1–7 August, 2004. Two vols. Comm. Hum. Litt. 122:1–2. Helsinki: The Finnish Society of Sciences and Letters 2007, 1033–1044.
4.   Some of them have another text on the other side, but nine of them do not and for some we even have two versions. And many texts seem to have corrections between the lines. But all this is left to the reader to figure out, and the reader may not have papyrological training.

(read complete article)

S. J. V. Malloch, The Annals of Tacitus, Book 11. Cambridge classical texts and commentaries, 51. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Pp. xxi, 538. ISBN 9781107011106. $150.00.

Reviewed by Antonio Ramírez de Verger, Universidad de Huelva (rdverger@uhu.es)

Version at BMCR home site

In book 11 of the Annals Tacitus narrates, over 38 chapters, the events of the years AD 47-8, during the reign of Claudius. Prominently featured here, among other considerations, are the censorship of Claudius, the history of Curtius Rufus, affairs in Germania under the generalship of Corbulo, the debate over the admission of the Gauls into the Senate and the fall of Claudius' wife, Messalina.

In 1972 Goodyear inaugurated the series of commentaries on the Annals in Cambridge's 'Orange Series'. Those which have appeared so far are two volumes by Goodyear (I Annals 1.1-54 in 1972 and 2005²; II Annals 1.55-81 and 2), one by Woodman and Martin (Annals 3, 1996) and the present volume on book 11 by Malloch. In its 'Yellow and Green' series, Cambridge University Press has also published book 4 by Martin and Woodman (1990). There is no doubt that Malloch's study keeps up and even improves in certain aspects (e.g. history of the text, prosopography, institutions) the high standards of these commentaries, which are aimed at advanced students as well as philologists and historians of the Graeco-Roman world.

The book contains a brief introduction (pp. 1-27), the Latin text with a concise critical apparatus (pp. 28-48) and an ample and comprehensive commentary (pp. 49-468). The volume closes with an Appendix (pp. 469-71 "Claudius' Speech on the admission of the Primores Galliae to the Roman Senate," ILS 212), a substantial bibliography of works cited (pp. 472-513) and a number of useful indexes (pp. 514-38 "General", "Ancient Names", "Words", and "Passages discussed").

Malloch has used all the most important studies and editions of Tacitus from the 1472/3 editio princeps by Wendelin of Speyer down to the most recent by Wellesley (1986) and Heubner (1994) by way of Beroaldus (1515), Lipsius (1581), Acidalius (1607), Pichena (1607), Gruterus (1607 with Notes by Alciatus, Mercerus, Rhenanus, Vertranius, Pichena and others), Gronovius (1721), Ernesti (1772), the editio Bipontina (1792), Bekker (1831), Bezzenberger (1844), Halm (1857), Nipperdey (1857), Fisher (1906), Furneaux (1907), Koestermann (1963-8), Weiskopf (1973), and many others. In addition, he has included the collation of the second Medicean by Petrus Victorius of 1542, currently held by the Staatsbibliothek in Munich. He has also taken into consideration the notes by Nicolaus Heinsius (1620-1681) on the text of the Annals, which were brought together in Ernesti's edition of 1772 (Heinsii Animadversa appear on pp. 701-707 of vol. II for book 11). The notes came down to Ernesti from F. Oudendorp (1696-1761) through P. Burman Junior (1713-1778), who had already published information on them in 1742 in Operum Nicolai Heinsii Syllabus in Nicolai Heinsii Adversariorum libri IV, Harlingae, 1742, p. 56 ('Heinsii Notae in Tacitum edi coeptae in Observ. Miscellan. Vol. ix, tom. ii et iii. Earum reliqua opem eandem desiderant, quomodo et servantur adhuc notae eius ineditae ad Valerii Catonis Diras aliaque').

The introduction is concise and unadorned. Malloch offers an overview of the contents, a brief summary of the structure, and the chronology of book 11; he outlines the hostile portrait Tacitus paints of Claudius; he describes briefly and with precision the history of the most important codex of the Annals XI-XVI, the Codex Laurentianus Mediceus 68.2, the manuscript which, in addition to the Annals, transmits what has survived of the Historiae (1-5) as well as the works of Apuleius. Malloch has recollated the ms. from the facsimile edition of Rostagno (Codex Laurentianus 68 II phototypice editus, Leiden, 1902) and from the digitized online copy of the Bibliotheca Laurentiana of Florence (TECA Digitale). Malloch's readings from the recentiores come from the apparatus criticus by H. Weiskopf (Wien, 1973).

The Latin text presented by Malloch differs only slightly from the most recent editions, such as those of Heubner (Stuttgart, 1994) or Wellesley (Leipzig, 1986). He departs from Heubner's edition, for example (and ignoring the punctuation), in the following places (I cite first of all Malloch's text and then Heubner's): 11.4.2 dixisset M / praedixisset Rhenanus; 11.7.3 qui quieta re publica ... peterent Bezzenberger ex Pichena / quieta re publica ... petere Pichena; 11.9.3 faciunt Lipsius / iciunt Va² Stuttg² La, Vertranius; 11.14.3 †dis plebiscitis / seclusit Nipperdey; 11.18.1 aes diu meritus Mercerus (ap. Gruterum, 1607, p. 610) / stipendium meritus ed. Bipontina coll. 2.52.1; 11.20.2 insignia M²/ insigne M; 11.23.4 oreretur M / moreretur Bach; perissent Jacob / prostrati sint Halm; 11.27 †subisse,† / subisse vota Draeger, Hanslik; tradam M / trado M²; 11.30.1 id opperiens Halm / opperiens Andresen; 11.30.2 †eicis† / Titios Brotier; 11.32.3 egeruntur dub. Heinsius / excipiuntur corr. Heinsius ex eripiuntur M. Malloch's critical apparatus is scanty, as is Heubner's, although it is true that he reserves textual explanations for the commentary. The most complete apparatus was published by Weiskopf, mentioned above, and contains the readings of all the Tacitean manuscripts, a privilege enjoyed by very few classical texts. A halfway house is the critical apparatus presented in the edition of K. Wellesley (Leipzig, 1986), who also includes an 'Appendix critica' on pp. 143-59.

The commentary is extremely useful and enlightening, with excellent introductions to the different episodes or scenes of book 11 (esp. pp. 114-31, 206-11, 392-8). It deals with all matters that will help the reader reach a better understanding of the Tacitean text. For instance: sources (e.g., p. 342, n. 220), lexis (e.g., pp. 293-4), morphology (e.g., pp. 319-20), syntax (e.g., pp. 274-5), style and rhetoric (e.g., pp. 97, 248), paleography (e.g., p. 389, n. 273), textual criticism (e.g., pp. 267-8, 320-2), prosopography (e.g., pp. 100-2), poeticisms (e.g., pp. 328, 404).

It only remains for me to mention a few marginalia with reference to the commentary:

P. 63 The form gentiles nationes is given here, while the Latin text (p. 28) prints gentilis nationes and no explanation is offered concerning the –is/-es alternation in the accusative plural. The same occurs with inlustris in 13.1 and omnis in 22.2; cf. L. Constans, Étude sur la langue de Tacite, Paris, 1893, pp. 13-14; F. Bömer, "Der Akkusativus pluralis auf –is, –eis und –es bei Vergil", Emerita 21, 1953, 182-234; M. Pulbrook, "The Third Declension Accusative Plural in –is and –es in Ovid's Metamorphoses", PACA 12, 1973, 2-10.

P. 98 The reading negotia agantur does not come from Heinsius, as claimed by Halm (1857, I, p.xxvii: 'negotia eant G, neg. agantur H'). And, as Malloch notes, this attribution does not appear in the Heinsii Animadversa, published by Ernesti (1772, II, p. 702). According to my colleague Prof. Estévez, Haase (1855, p. LXIV) was the first editor to propose negotia agantur, as noted in the apparatus criticus of Nipperdey (Berolini, 1872, II, p. 5 'negotia agantur Haasius, cenat Ritterus'). The fact is that Halm attributed this reading to Heinsius instead of Haase and from then the error has persisted down to our day (e. g., Orelli 1859, p. 315; F. Ritter, "Bemerkungen zu Tacitus", Philologus 19, 1863, 265; Fisher (1906, ad loc.), Weiskopf, 1973, p. 6; Heubner, 1983, p. 214; Wellesley 1986, p. 3, although he reads negotia fiant following Bezzenberger).

P. 144 On the placing of quoque before or after the name it emphasizes (see also p. 216), cf. my note on Ovid, met. 6.26 in Philologus 155, 2, 2011, 383-6.

P. 152 Add the commentary by E. J. Kenney (Milan, 2011, p. 341) on met. 8.335 concerning the expression castellorum ardua (neuter plural adjectives with a partitive genitive).

P. 201 On the metaphor of the flamma amoris in exarserat, see R. Moreno, "Llama de amor", in Diccionario de motivos amatorios en la literatura latina, Huelva, 2011, pp. 232-40. See also pp. 199-200 of the same dictionary on the term fastidium.

P. 296 See also G. Galán, "El motivo literario del triunfo en Marcial", CFC(Lat) 11, 1996, 33-45.

P. 306 On the auctorati or free men who enrolled as gladiators, see G. Ville, La gladiature en Occident des origines à la mort de Domitien, Rome, 1981, pp. 246-55.

P. 358 It is worth reading R. Ullmann (La technique des discours dans Salluste, Tite Live et Tacite, Oslo, 1927, pp. 230-8) to understand somewhat better Claudius' speech on the entry of the primores Galliae into the Roman Senate.

P. 366 On the Balbi of Cádiz I would have expected to see the study by J. F. Rodri/guez Neila, Confidentes de Ce/sar: Los Balbos de Ca/diz, Madrid, 1992.

P. 424 At 14.3.1 the apparatus should read capesseret Heinsius : lacesseret M, not vice versa; cf. Heinsii Animadversa, in Ernesti, II, 1792, p. 718.

P. 442 Heinsius (Animadversa, pp. 706-7) proposed, in addition to egeruntur, the verb evehuntur, citing Varro, L.L. 5.21 sirpea, quae virgis sirpatur, id est colligando implicatur, in qua stercus aliudve quid vehitur.

P. 459 The definitive reflection of the haughtiness of Messalina is expressed through the epiphonema tantum inter extrema superbiae gerebat with the necessary partitive genitive; cf. Lucr. 1.101 tantum religio potuit suadere malorum; Quint. inst. 8.5.11 and H. Lausberg, Manual de retórica literaria, II, § 879.

At a time when we are witnessing a certain decline in the critical edition of classical texts and philological commentaries, we must heartily welcome works as outstanding as this volume by Malloch on book 11 of the Annals of Tacitus, a historian of poetic prose and profound thought.

The book is well produced, except for the small letter size of the commentary itself. I have complained before, and will continue to do so, that the reader is done no favours with fonts so eye-wearying that they preclude all possibility of relaxed reading. ¹

---

Notes:

1.   This review has been translated from the Spanish by J. J. Zoltowski. Thanks are due to the Spanish MEC (FFI2008-01843 and FFI2013-42529) and the Junta de Andalucía (HUM-4534 and FEDER-FSE) for their financial support.

(read complete article)

J. Donald Hughes, Environmental Problems of the Greeks and Romans: Ecology in the Ancient Mediterranean (second edition; first published 1994). Ancient society and history. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2014. Pp. x, 306. ISBN 9781421412115. $27.95 (pb).

Reviewed by Danielle M. La Londe, Centre College (danielle.lalonde@centre.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Given that the environmental history of the Mediterranean basin has received much scholarly attention in the twenty years since the publication of J. Donald Hughes' Pan's Travail: Environmental Problems of the Ancient Greeks and Romans, a second edition of this important work is certainly warranted.¹ Hughes states that the purpose of this second edition is to incorporate his new research since the book was published and to account for new publications (viii). Three new chapters have been added, (Ch. 9, "War and the Environment;" Ch. 12, "Natural Disasters;" and Ch. 13, "Changing Climates"), and Chapters Two, Five, Six, Eight, Eleven, and Fourteen have new sections or material (described below), and new bibliography has been incorporated into the footnotes. Since the main argument and much of the content is unchanged and has been previously reviewed,² I shall briefly summarize the chapters, focusing on the expanded and revised material.

Hughes argues that the failure of the ancient Greeks and Romans to maintain a balance with the natural environment and the resulting damage caused by human activities were of such a scale that the ecosystem could no longer support human communities, making them susceptible to collapse (182, 229-235). To reach this conclusion, Hughes begins with four introductory chapters, and then the bulk of the chapters (Chapters 5-13) survey different types of interactions between human communities and the natural environment of the Mediterranean basin.

The introductory chapters are largely unchanged. Chapter One ("Introduction: Ecology in the Greek and Roman World") explains the main purpose of the book and defines for the reader important concepts and methodologies to which Hughes will return throughout. Chapter Two ("The Environment: Life, Land, and Sea in the Mediterranean") describes the major features of the Mediterranean ecosystem in classical antiquity: climate, the Mediterranean sea, the land, and plants and animals. Hughes has expanded his discussion of the rocks and soil to include a more detailed discussion of the various types of soils that can be found in different regions of the Mediterranean, such as the Black Sea, southern France, and Spain. He has also expanded his discussion of plants to account for the different regions, such as mountain ranges and islands. These are both welcome additions as they make clear how diverse the Mediterranean landscapes and ecosystems are. Chapters Three ("Ecological Crises in Earlier Societies") and Four ("Concepts of the Natural World") remain unchanged from the first edition. Three gives a brief overview of the environmental history of the Mediterranean basin leading up to classical antiquity, and Four provides an overview of the various ways ancient Greeks and Romans thought about, understood, and worshipped nature.

After the overview and background given by Chapters One through Four, Chapter Five ("Deforestation, Overgrazing, and Erosion") brings the reader to the main focus of the book: how the ancient Greeks and Romans changed their natural environment and how this affected their societies. This chapter is significantly revised to incorporate recent research by Hughes and others that bolsters his assertion that deforestation, along with the resulting soil erosion, was the most damaging activity of the ancients with regard to the natural environment. Hughes provides compelling evidence drawn from multiple fields of study, such as archaeological surveys and analyses of pollen, charcoal, and ice cores. Hughes' discussion is clear and understandable to a non-specialist. His discussions of climate change, malaria, and the effects of military activities from the first edition have been condensed and the main substance of these sections has been incorporated into the new chapters on these topics (Ch. 13, "Changing Climate," Ch. 12 "Natural Disasters," Ch. 9 "War and the Environment").

Chapter Six ("Wildlife Depletion and Loss of Habitat") is largely the same with a new section "Introduction of Exotic Species" that addresses the question of whether or not any species introduced by man gained a foothold in the Mediterranean ecosystem. Except for the domesticated species, such as cats, dogs, horses, and herd animals, for which historical and archaeological records provide evidence, Hughes can only speculate about which species may have taken hold (parrots, pigeons, fish), and provides anecdotes from Pliny the Elder of Romans trying to introduce fish and oysters to Italy.

Chapter Seven ("Agricultural Decline," the first edition's Chapter Eight) is unchanged. Hughes argues that agricultural production began to decline in the third century CE as a result of factors such as falling population, soil exhaustion, and poor erosion control.

Chapter Eight ("Industrial Technology and Environmental Damage," Chapter Seven in the first edition) explores the environmental impact of industrial processes, such as mining, quarrying, metallurgy and ceramic production. A new, lengthy section on Athens' famous silver mines at Laurion has been incorporated into the otherwise basically unchanged chapter. Hughes' discussion of the mines is a welcome addition to the chapter as it provides an interesting case study of how accounting for the mines' environmental impact through analysis of evidence from multiple fields of study enriches our understanding of their historical importance.

Chapter Nine ("War and the Environment") is the first of three new chapters. In this chapter, Hughes considers the impact of war and militarization on the Mediterranean ecosystem through examples of both unintentional and intentional environmental damage caused by war and other military activities. Hughes concludes by asserting that man can be in balance with nature only during times of peace.

Chapter Ten ("Urban Problems"), largely unchanged from the first edition's Chapter Nine, looks at how cities impacted the ecosystem and what the urban environment itself would have been like, addressing issues such as noise pollution and waste disposal.

Chapter Eleven ("Paradises and Parks, Gardens and Groves," the first edition's Chapter Ten) has a new section entitled "Biodiversity in the Groves." Here, using primarily written accounts of flora and fauna in sacred groves, Hughes argues that they unintentionally functioned like the American park system in preserving pockets of biodiversity.

Chapter Twelve ("Natural Disasters") is the second new chapter. It covers epidemics and the 79 CE eruption of Mount Vesuvius. The epidemics section includes revised and expanded discussions of malaria and the fifth-century plague at Athens, for which Hughes speculatively offers typhoid fever as the most likely candidate. His discussions of both the plague at Athens and the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius are detailed case studies that effectively incorporate written sources (Thucydides and Pliny the Younger, respectively) and scientific data.

In chapter Thirteen ("Changing Climates"), the third new chapter, Hughes draws upon significant recent research on climate change and discusses the various ways scientists have been gathering data to help reconstruct ancient climate patterns, in particular by examining ice cores and tree rings. Hughes also suggests that human activities, especially deforestation, could have caused climate change.

Chapter Fourteen ("Environmental Problems as Factors in the Decline of Greek and Roman Civilization") summarizes the ways that the Greeks and Romans caused significant environmental damage, especially through deforestation and poor agricultural practices, and that this damage eventually inhibited them from thriving. Hughes concludes by briefly discussing several factors that he sees as the reasons for classical antiquity's failure to maintain a sustainable balance with the Mediterranean ecosystem (treatment of women, cultural attitudes, scientific knowledge, appropriate technology, governmental policies, the economy, slavery, frequent wars). One can see in his list of factors the implicit warning that if we do not account for these factors in the modern world and find a balance with nature, we shall no longer be able to thrive in our environment.

Hughes' aims of offering an overview of the environmental history of the Mediterranean basin targeted at a general reader or non-specialist and arguing that a major factor of the collapse of classical antiquity was the environmental damage caused by ancient Greeks and Romans are at odds with each other. Hughes succeeds for the most part in his first aim but his necessarily selective and summary discussions of the evidence and his insistence that deforestation — along with the attendant consequences of erosion and climate change — was the primary culprit preclude the detailed and persuasive analysis necessary to support his second aim. As Hughes writes in his preface, "the study of past effects of environmental forces on human societies, and the impact of human activities on the environment, gives needed perspective to the dilemmas of the contemporary world" (ix), and simplifying the complexities of this relationship and how difficult it is to disentangle the causes and effects of these feedback loops between human activity and natural environment renders the lessons of history less useful than they could otherwise be. Rather, leaving these complexities unresolved and showing how current research is beginning to tackle various problems would demonstrate for the reader that there is in fact no one overarching problem the solution of which would establish a sustainable balance within our own ecosystem. Rather, only by accounting for and teasing out the complexities of specific environmental problems will we be able to develop sustainable solutions.

Minor revisions to the text for the sake of clarity are made throughout to positive effect. In addition, the main section titles are now in boldface and the subsection titles in italics and precede rather than begin the paragraph. As a result, the chapters are much more navigable, and considering the impressive breadth of topics covered, the ability easily to locate a section is key to making good use of the book. Images of the landscapes and cultural objects under discussion have been added throughout, giving the reader added context for the discussion. References to the images as numbered figures within the body of the text would have been helpful.

As mentioned by reviewers of the first edition, a citations index and more consistent footnoting of ancient sources would have been useful revisions.³ In the more data-driven discussions (deforestation, climate change), some graphs, tables, or some other such visual display of the data would have aided the reader in following Hughes' analyses. Editorial errors mentioned by earlier reviewers have not been corrected⁴ and some new errors have crept in. The formatting of block quotations is inconsistent: poetry is offset either as poetry (125) or prose without marked line breaks (145), and a passage of Plato's Critias has been put into stanzas (140-141); the footnotes of a paragraph on p. 162 of the first edition are missing from pp. 198-99 of the second edition; and there are at least two instances of repeated sentences (78 and 81, 162 and 199).

Despite these issues, Hughes deserves great praise for updating a valuable overview of the problems ancient Greeks and Romans caused and faced within the natural environment of the Mediterranean basin. His work gives the undergraduate or non-specialist in particular a new view of the ancient world that will enrich her or his understanding of classical antiquity and highlight how much research is waiting to be undertaken. I imagine this book being most useful in a course on comparative environmental history, the ecology of the ancient Mediterranean, or concepts of nature in classical antiquity, where the new case-studies such as the mines or the eruptions of Mount Vesuvius would be particularly useful.To those already familiar with classical antiquity it also has a great deal to offer.

---

Notes:

1.   For example, Lukas Thommen, An Environmental History of Ancient Greece and Rome (Cambridge, 2012), BMCR2013.02.03; Brian Campbell, Rivers and the Power of Ancient Rome (Chapel Hill, 2012), BMCR 2013.05.34; Robert Sallares, Malaria and Rome (Oxford, 2002); A. T. Grove and Oliver Rackham, The Nature of Mediterranean Europe, An Ecological History (New Haven, 2001); Peregrine Horden and Nicholas Purcell, The Corrupting Sea (Oxford, 2000).
2.   John McMahon, BMCR 94.08.07; William H. Stiebing, Jr., Environmental History Review, 18 (1994) 89-91; Susan E. Alcock, AHR 100 (1995) 501-502; A. Trevor Hodge, Phoenix 49 (1995) 187-188; Mark A. Lelle, Forest & Conservation History 39 (1995) 41-42; D. L. Simms, Technology and Culture 36 (1995) 396-397; Mary Beagon, JRS 86 (1996) 190-191; Stephen T. Newmyer , IJCT 3 (1996) 240-242.
3.   McMahon, BMCR 94.08.07.
4.   The oversights and editorial errors referred to by McMahon, BMCR 94.08.07 remain.

(read complete article)

Gaël​ Grobéty​, Guerre de Troie, guerres des cultures et guerres du Golfe: les usages de l'Iliade dans la culture écrite américaine contemporaine. Echo, 11​. Bern; Frankfurt am Main; New York; Wien: Peter Lang, 2014. Pp. xviii, 349. ISBN 9783034315111. $106.95 (pb).

Reviewed by Matthieu Soler, Université Toulouse II​ (soler.matthieu@laposte.net)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

Les historiens de l'Antiquité et du cinéma s'intéressent de façon soutenue à la réception populaire des stéréotypes anciens.¹ Dans ces études, des scientifiques comme P. Payen ou M. Winkler, abordent en particulier la question de la guerre, en partie à travers la geste troyenne ou encore les guerres médiques.² La question se pose du rôle que peut jouer la section de grec ancien dans ce travail de réflexion sur nos modes de pensée. Gaël Grobéty présente les classicistes comme un groupe à part, confronté à un supposé « inconfort du présent » ; idée qu'il nuance de loin en loin. Lui-même ayant fréquenté les bancs de cette section à l'université de Lausanne tout en étudiant l'histoire de cinéma, il propose au lecteur une vision tout-à-fait intéressante de l'image que se construisent les Américains des textes homériques.

Si nous commencions cet ouvrage par ses annexes, nous aurions déjà une image des difficultés soulevées par le riche sujet soumis à la réflexion du lecteur. En effet, la brève bibliographie mêle, et c'est assumé, ouvrages scientifiques, dont certains manquent, et ouvrages de vulgarisation, parfois douteux. Cela livre une vision troublée de cette recherche tant certains articles sont plus des sources que des études, rejoignant alors les quatre vingt articles de presse des années 1990-2007 cités qui sont le cœur du travail. Ce corpus est fondé sur une recherche informatique sur le mot clef Iliad dans la presse des capitales d'état américaines. Il est non exhaustif et multiforme, si complexe, que l'auteur se sent obligé d'en définir et d'en justifier les contours de façon redondante, dans des notes introductives, dans l'introduction générale, au début du deuxième chapitre et dans l'annexe. Ce corpus permet de se faire une idée globale de la place des textes homériques dans la presse américaine et sur le web. La faiblesse de ce corpus réside sans doute dans son caractère urbain. Qu'en est-il des Américains en dehors des grandes métropoles ? Cette sélection est utilisée pour mener l'étude, non pas de l'actualité d'un texte, mais d'une tradition qui crée une Iliade moderne, universalisée, décontextualisée, stéréotypée, référent essentiel à l'unité de la culture populaire. Vaste et nébuleuse, elle sert de support aux réflexions sur les guerres menées par les USA. Le constat de départ, mis en valeur à travers une citation de N. D. Kristof, est que les Américains pensent en général la geste homérique comme une image concrète de la réalité contemporaine. Pour simplifier, l'idée serait qu'en 3200 ans les moyens ont changé, pas les hommes, donc on peut réfléchir à la morale dans l'Iliade et se l'appliquer. C'est là tout l'intérêt de cette étude, appuyée sur les concepts de P. Bourdieu, qui s'intéresse, non à la puissance évocatrice du texte homérique, mais à l'idée contemporaine qui dépasse de loin le texte ancien. Les USA sont le pays qui utiliserait le plus cette référence, tout en étant la première puissance du globe, un « empire américain » prosélyte, dont les principaux intérêts stratégiques se situent aujourd'hui au Moyen- Orient. L'analyse de cet ouvrage se place au cœur d'une lutte entre l'idée conservatrice qu'il faut une force pour encadrer les mauvais instincts humains, l'Iliade montrant le triomphe de l'Occident sur l'Orient, et les libéraux qui ont tendance à voir un texte donnant une vision nuancée du monde. Les Anciens, que tous tentent de s'approprier, semblent alors un refuge dans un monde post guerre froide où se perdent les repères.

Le plan de l'ouvrage suit un découpage selon les sources : dans une première partie sont concernés les ouvrages à visées scientifiques pour le grand public ; dans une deuxième partie, uniquement les productions de textes journalistiques et numériques ; dans une troisième partie l'auteur se livre à une étude de cas d'une œuvre de fiction. L'ouvrage se termine par six annexes : une introduction au corpus, la liste des journaux examinés, treize articles, des statistiques, un résumé des épopées satiriques la Bushiad et l'Idyossey, un résumé de Ilium et Olympos.

Le premier chapitre, « L'Iliade au cœur des débats culturels et des réflexions sur la guerre : analyse d'une équation complexe entre université et culture populaire », s'ouvre sur une mise au point historiographique. La littérature scientifique à cycle de production court est ensuite analysée, manifestant l'importance primordiale du statut de l'œuvre qui traverse les mouvements de pensée, chacun pensant avoir assimilé le texte à sa cause. L'Iliade est considérée comme le premier jalon du canon occidental, y compris aux USA, qui se sont pourtant parfois éloignés de ces références dans leur volonté d'indépendance, et malgré la mise en retrait des études classiques qui accompagne la massification de l'enseignement. La vivacité du texte homérique aux USA est surtout encouragée par l'existence des classes de littérature générale. Ces great books courses, sont suivis depuis les années 20 par un nombre grandissant d'étudiants, cent mille par an aujourd'hui. Étudiant indifféremment des textes de cultures et de natures différentes, ils participent à la décontextualisation, à la désincarnation du texte qui devient un élément d'une suite logique de quelques dizaines d'œuvres qui conduiraient linéairement la société d'Homère à nos jours. Ce canon, contesté dans les années 60 revient en force sous l'impulsion des conservateurs dans les années 90. Ils accusent les classicistes d'être tombés dans le relativisme et de s'être fait influencer par le multiculturalisme. Cela les conduit au rejet de l'université : le professeur de classics n'a pas à être un chercheur, mais simplement un enseignant, transmettant la morale immémoriale du texte. Le but est de faire d'Homère une valeur universelle : reflet d'une société guerrière de citoyens-soldats, réceptacle de la supériorité de l'Occident dépositaire de l'aretè. Homère aurait eu le génie de transformer l'intégralité de la condition humaine dans toute sa complexité en un seul récit, un tout, qui n'aurait subi aucune influence, un livre pur. Les libéraux rejoignent les conservateurs dans l'idéalisation du texte. Tous sont amenés à émettre, à un degré ou un autre, un avis, à prendre une position sur les culture wars, la question de la guerre étant centrale. L'Amérique devient Achille, et son talon inquiète. De West Point aux psychanalystes, la littérature sert de soutien aux théories sur la guerre actuelle et ses dérivés : la folie, la commémoration des morts, ou encore le traitement du stress post-traumatique. La guerre dans l'Iliade est envisagée comme un miroir des pratiques contemporaines.

Le deuxième chapitre s'intitule : « L'Iliade au service de l'actualité : la position de l'épopée dans les médias journalistiques et informatiques. » Grobéty y montre que le texte homérique est intégré, de façon discrète, au quotidien du way of life américain. C'est le cycle de l'histoire, un texte fondateur mondialement connu, le plus vieux de la culture occidentale, plus grande œuvre sur la guerre. C'est un exemple pertinent et économique pour illustrer les articles de presse. L'Iliade est citée pour mettre en avant le cursus classique de tel ou tel, comme allégorie du beau et de la qualité supérieure, ou encore afin d'illustrer un combat honorable. Deux thématiques dominent : l'incarnation de la guerre, le miroir de notre temps. L'auteur identifie dix-sept usages faits du texte : pour illustrer l'opposition à : La bêtise de l'Américain / L'illettrisme ou le manque de culture générale / La place prépondérante de la culture populaire sur la culture classique / La culture audiovisuelle / La distinction entre culture populaire et culture classique tant l'Iliade mêle sérieux et divertissement / Au relativisme postmoderniste / L'utilitarisme économique / Au christianisme conservateur / La propagande gouvernementale ; ou pour soutenir : Les great books courses / L'importance de l'éducation libérale / Le canon / L'utilisation de la culture populaire dans le cursus ; ou, enfin, pour étayer des idées contradictoires : La perte de vitesse de la culture générale des Américains—Mais les classics connaissent un nouveau succès / On ne connaît plus l'Iliade — Mais la guerre de Troie suscite plus d'intérêt que jamais. À quelques exceptions près, tel le journaliste David Denby qui propose de revenir à la différence du texte, la plupart traitent du contemporain en faisant appel à l'Iliade, sans jamais revenir à la source. Cela donne l'image fataliste d'une culture poussée à reproduire l'opposition Occident/Orient et entraînée à la guerre. L'imaginaire prime sur le texte : à la sortie du film de Petersen, dans les discours sur la guerre en Irak, on a plus parlé des trois semaines de siège de Troy que des dix ans de l'Iliad. Quand le conflit irakien s'est enlisé, on est revenu à l'Iliade, souvent utilisée comme un biais critique face à un gouvernement de guerre peu tolérant et apôtre du choc des civilisations. On compare alors les événements et personnages : Bush est Agamemnon. Certains, minoritaires, en viennent à représenter l'Amérique en cité assiégée et à la fois porteuse de la guerre au proche Orient, s'opposant à l'idée dominante conservatrice d'une assimilation simpliste Achéens/Américains. C'est aussi un réservoir de leçons morales. La guerre est un carnage et elle a des conséquences. Il faut s'en prémunir en luttant contre l'hybris, en écoutant les Cassandres et Laocoons, en étant conciliant avec ses alliés, ou encore en respectant ses ennemis sur le modèle de la koinè achéo-troyenne. Grobéty affirme que personne ne remet en question le fait de tirer des leçons de l'Iliade, ceux qui prôneraient l'inutilité d'une telle position n'en parleraient même pas (p. 156). La question que soulève une telle assertion est celle de la représentativité du corpus, question qui n'est jamais vraiment abordée, même dans les graphiques des annexes. Si ceux qui refusent la comparaison se contentent de ne pas citer l'Iliade, combien sont-ils alors à traiter de la guerre en Irak sans jamais y faire allusion, quel est leur impact sur l'opinion par rapport à ceux qui jugent bon de l'utiliser ?

Enfin, le troisième chapitre, « Une œuvre de science-fiction au carrefour des influences », livre une intéressante monographie sur l'œuvre fictionnelle de Dan Simmons : Ilium et Olympos. Ce texte illustre le choc du 11 septembre et le radicalisme qui a pu en émerger. Il permet à Grobéty de réinvestir ses réflexions précédentes. Le lecteur est en revanche assez frustré de ne pas trouver une véritable analyse de la réception de cette œuvre auprès de la critique et du public afin de mieux l'insérer dans les réflexions antérieures.

Cet ouvrage, de manière parfois redondante, fait redécouvrir un trait de pensée répandu en Amérique, celui de la permanence dans le temps de ce qu'est l'être humain : une idée qui conduit à faire le lien entre passé et présent, quelle que soit l'idéologie de l'auteur. Grobéty présente là une étude interne à la société américaine. Le lecteur est d'autant plus surpris de trouver sous sa plume une étonnante et régulière utilisation d'un « nous » personnel pour parler de la société américaine, semblant contredire l'idée de départ que la réception de l'Iliade n'est pas la même dans tous les pays occidentaux. Cette confusion est d'ailleurs énoncée : « Peut-être l'Iliade et l'Odyssée ont-elles simplement échappé à toute assimilation privilégiée par une civilisation spécifique, et sont-elles devenues des « épopées du monde » ; peut-être l'insistance des discours conservateurs à s'approprier l'Iliade répond-elle ainsi à la crainte de découvrir que « notre » identité est également celle des autres » (p. 148). Pour répondre à cette interrogation, il faudrait creuser la réception d'Homère dans le monde arabe et ailleurs, comme le propose Grobéty en ouverture, et comparer avec les autres textes majeurs. Ce livre de qualité ouvre ainsi des pistes de réflexions sur la réception de l'Antiquité et les études de la représentation de la guerre, domaines qui ne cessent de se développer chez les classicistes, ce dont on ne peut que se réjouir. ​

---

Notes:

1.   Par exemple H. Dumont, L'Antiquité au cinéma, Lausanne: Cinémathèque Suisse 2009.
2.   M. Winkler, Troy: from Homer's Iliad to Hollywood Epic, Malden MA: Blackwell 2007. P. Payen, Les revers de la guerre en Grèce ancienne, Paris: Belin 2012 ou encore la publication à venir du colloque « L'Antiquité au cinéma. Formes, Histoire, Représentations » de 2011 à la cinémathèque de Toulouse et la table ronde des rendez- vous de Blois : « Les usages idéologiques de la guerre antique, XIXe-XXIe siècle ». ​

(read complete article)

Eyal Regev, The Hasmoneans: Ideology, Archaeology, Identity. Journal of Ancient Judaism. Supplements, 10. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013. Pp. 340. ISBN 9783525550434. €99.99.

Reviewed by Friedrich T. Schipper, University of Vienna (Friedrich.Schipper@univie.ac.at)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Although the Second Temple period is an intensively researched period of Jewish history and although the Hasmonean rulers were key players for one and a half centuries within this period, only a few comprehensive portraits of the Hasmoneans and their time have been published in the past 10 years. Eyal Regev, professor of archaeology at Bar Ilan University, provides a very solid overview of various aspects of the Hasmonean rule and legacy, concentrating on ideology and identity and thereby filling a thematic gap in research on the Hasmoneans. Regev strives for a twofold interdisciplinary approach – historical and archaeological as well as text-oriented historical-critical and comparative socio-anthropological – "in order to see more clearly WHO the Hasmoneans actually were" and "HOW they ruled the Jewish people".

In his introduction Regev explains how he and other Judaic scholars tend to apply the unusual term "nationalism" in studying the Hasmonean state and he pursues this theme throughout his book.¹ He also criticizes the "dichotomy between Judaism and Hellenism in the study of the Hasmoneans and their ethos as simplistic and anachronistic", referring to previous scholarship often having failed to avoid "falling into the traps of both the critical outlook of ancient Greco-Roman authors on these rulers who shattered Greek cities and sanctuaries and the modern nationalistic Jewish-Israeli admiration of such acts".² His goal is to go beyond the canon of historical studies, not to reconstruct the nature of the Hasmonean rule along the "thin line between Hellenistic culture and Jewish identity" but to decipher the ideological matrix and symbolic language of the Hasmoneans that "created a new sense of Jewish identity".

The book falls into seven chapters and a very compact, three and a half page "conclusion". The first three chapters deal with religion and the Hasmoneans as religious leaders while the next three cover government and the Hasmonean kingship; chapter 7 synthesizes these two perspectives.

The "religious" part of the book establishes Hanukkah as the constitutional festival for the cleansed Hasmonean Temple, then examines the Temple as the real and ideal basis of Hasmonean ideology and its development and ends with the Hasmoneans acting at the Temple as priests and religious leaders as well as the authority of the Jews.

Chapter 1 "discusses the Maccabean view of Hanukkah as a Temple festival for the renewal of ancient cultic traditions." Regev discusses the cultic characteristics of Hanukkah as "the festival of Tabernacles", first explaining how it relates to the days of millu'im in Ex 29 and Lev 8-9. He suggests that despite dissimilarities to its description in 1 Maccabees Hanukkah is essentially a millu'im ceremony, making his point clear with an elaborate treatment of the relevant text of 2 Maccabees. He finally attributes to Hannukah the function of a "political festival", explaining it as an "invented tradition" in Eric Hobsbawn's sense, that served as the point of departure of the development of all Hasmonean ideology.³

In chapter 2 Regev analyzes the Temple as the center of Hasmonean ideology. Step by step he discusses the relevant sources – 1 Maccabees, Eupolemos, Josephus, 2 Maccabees and Pseudo-Aristeas – to build his line of argument. Regev focuses on the payment of the Temple tax (or tribute) and the role of pilgrimage as two major innovative religious as well as legal practices. He finally adds a sub-chapter on Qumran's "moral opposition" to the Temple as it is evident in the Psalms of Solomon, profiting from his former in-depth study on Qumran (2007).

Chapter 3 deals with the development of the priesthood of the earlier Hasmoneans. After a short treatment of the High Priesthood in the Persian and early Hellenistic periods, Regev analyzes the period of each single Maccabee in detail, starting with Mattathias the Zealot, Judah the Savior, Jonathan the Judge, Simon the elected High Priest, and ending with John Hyrcanus the Prophet. He synthesizes their rules in his overview on the Hasmoneans as religious leaders, including consideration of the priestly descent of the Hasmoneans and their lack of Zadokite descent, and finally offers a sub-chapter covering aspects of the transition from priesthood to kingship, discussing in particular the issues of the Hasmonean rulers earning Hellenistic honors and accumulating wealth.

The "governmental" part of the book investigates Hasmonean kingship. Regev discusses the more basic and general issues in chapter 4 and elaborates his theses in chapter 5 dealing with Hasmonean coinage as political medium and chapter 6 dealing with the Hasmonean palaces at Jericho as architectonic reflection of their builders' self-understanding.

In chapter 4, Regev first sets out to explain the legitimacy of the kingship of the Hasmoneans. He analyzes the Hasmoneans' royal ideology, suggesting that it resembles that of a "national monarchy" and comparing it with the idea of the "national" Macedonian monarchy. Regev examines the emergence of Hasmonean kingship against the backdrop of the idea of kingship in the Hebrew bible as well as of the quest for kingship in ancient Judaism in general in order to finally conclude with a rather crucial, elaborate and encompassing chapter on the pros and cons of Hasmonean kingship providing some useful aid for orientation in this complex discussion.

In chapter 5, numismatic evidence is used to test and expand the research results gathered so far. Regev begins by briefly describing ancient money, numismatic studies and their methodological keys, thereby enabling laymen to understand his line of argumentation.⁴ He then explains the iconography (such as anchor, palm branch, star, helmet) and legends, personal names and titles as well as language and script of Hasmomean coinage in regard to their importance for the understanding of Hasmonean royal ideology and identity construction.

Chapter 6 on the Hasmonean palaces in Jericho serves the same goal as the numismatic chapter. Again Regev first explains the basic methodological principles of archaeological interpretation before providing an overview of the size and function of the palaces themselves. He then turns to an access analysis of the palaces, as he had previously done for Qumran (2009).⁵ In the following sub-chapters he investigates different architectonic features of the palaces: the swimming pools and gardens, the bathhouses and the miqva'ot – all connected to the vital element of water. At this point an excursus is given on the problem of identifying the palaces of Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II.⁶ Regev then expands his archaeological observations to the pottery found, and finally discusses both categories – water installations and pottery – in terms of the observance of purity in the Hasmonean way of life. Relying on comparisons with other Hellenistic palaces, especially the Herodian palaces, Regev concludes that "internal modesty and external propaganda" were characteristic of the Hasmonean palaces.

The final chapter draws together all previous results to provide a new explanation for the Hasmonean construction of Jewish collective identity. Here, Regev applies most of his sociological and anthropological approaches, including his excursion into political sciences in regard to nationalism research, but here replacing "nationalism" with "collective identity". He concludes that the view observed in ancient literature, above all the scriptures of the New Testament but also the works of Flavius Josephus and Philo, that the Jews in the Second Temple period despite the emergence of religious sectarian groups formed a more or less uniform community in terms of religion ("devotion to the Temple, purity boundaries, the relationship between Judaea and the Diaspora and many others"), has been shaped by the long-term religious and political claims of the Hasmoneans. Thus the Hasmonean creation of a new Jewish collective identity was basically a partly intended, partly unforeseen result of the promotion and legitimization of their rule throughout the decades.

I find very little worth criticizing beyond the paucity and poor image quality of the plates, possibly the responsibility of the publisher. Although the text is not always easy to read the book is easy to use. Each of chapters 2-6 begins with an explanation of what Regev intends to do and ends with a few pages of "conclusions". This double service allows for a quick reading of his book if someone is looking quickly for specific information and makes up for the rather brief and compact general index. Regev's book has the potential to receive as much attention as e.g. Mendels' Rise and Fall of Jewish Nationalism (1992).

---

Notes:

1.   One may comment that this very comprehensive and systematic and well structured study lacks a general political sciences (sub)chapter on this matter.
2.   Not all modern scholarship on this topic is either Israeli or at least Jewish and therefore rather unlikely to be on the path of "nationalistic admiration". I personally view much of recent Jewish-Israeli research on the Second Temple period in general and the Hasmonean period in particular as innovative and not circular as Regev insinuates.
3.   Cf. Hobsbawn, E. 1983. "Introduction" in E. Hobsbawn and T. Tanger (eds.), The Invention of Tradition, Cambridge: University Press, 1-2 and 9.
4.   He skips some ongoing debates in Hasmonean coinage, like the current debate on chronology (cf. Ostermann, S. 2005. Die Münzen der Hasmonäer. Ein kritischer Bericht zur Systematik und Chronologie, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht), in order to keep the chapter straightforward and compact.
5.   Regev, E. 2009. "Access Analysis of Kh. Qumran: Reading Spatial Organization and Social Boundaries", BASOR 355: 85-99.
6.   There are seven different phases of Hasmonean palaces at Jericho and their attribution to certain Hasmonean rulers has been a matter of attention long before the final excavations reports were published. See Netzer E. 2001. Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho: Final Reports of the 1973–1987 Excavations, Vol. 1: Stratigraphy and Architecture, Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

(read complete article)

Douglas Cairns, Ruth Scodel (ed.), Defining Greek Narrative. Edinburgh Leventis studies, 7. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014. Pp. xii, 380. ISBN 9780748680108. $162.00.

Reviewed by Robin J. Greene, Providence College (rgreene2@providence.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Defining Greek Narrative is the product of the seventh biennial A. G. Leventis Conference held in October 2011 in Edinburgh. The conference's title, "What's Greek about Ancient Greek Narrative?," poses a timely question, given the growing scholarship that approaches Greek narrative qua narrative. Since the publication of the pioneering works of Genette and Bal, narratology has become a standard technique for the analysis of classical texts, and a number of edited volumes utilizing structural and other narratologies have been produced in recent years. Yet, as Ruth Scodel observes in her introduction to the present collection, structural narratology's synchronic orientation tends "to erase…the process of development" and differences between Greek and other literatures (5). Other approaches, especially diachronic narratology, may offer the means for tracing the evolution of Greek narrative. However, Scodel rightly contends that to comprehend the developmental history of Greek narrative, we must first demarcate its boundaries and identify what makes it 'Greek.' Defining Greek Narrative is a strong first step in doing just that. This volume offers original and compelling treatments of the 'Greekness' of Greek narrative, and it is a provocative beginning to what promises to be a long and exciting conversation.

Scodel's introduction contextualizes the volume's aims as they relate to current scholarship involving structural, historical, and 'new' narratologies. Narrative theory informs many of the volume's essays, but Defining Greek Narrative is not a collection of formal narratological studies. Rather, the fifteen contributors address the broadly construed challenge of defining Greek narrative using a variety of approaches, ranging from traditional literary study to diachronic narratological analysis to cognitive theory. Tradition and innovation meet in this collection, and most stimulating are those essays that combine methodologies, wedding formal analysis with literary interpretation.

The volume is divided into three sections that consider Homeric narrative, post-Homeric Greek narrative, and Greek narrative as it relates to Latin and modern European literatures. The variety of subjects addressed by the contributors matches the diversity of their theoretical approaches; this renders the essays difficult to encapsulate and impossible to critique comprehensively in the limited space available. However, I shall touch on each one briefly to convey the collection's scope and intimate connections between the essays.

Johannes Haubold, Adrian Kelly, and A. D. Morrison each distinguish the particularly 'Greek' through comparative study. Haubold compares the ways Homeric epic and the Epic of Gilgamesh represent and grant access to reality to ultimately affirm Auerbach's famous estimation of Homer's "immediacy." Yet Homer is not all surface; Haubold underscores the poet's self-awareness as reflected in his concern for the "unplumbed depths" beneath the facsimile of reality his enargeia creates (26). Kelly also rethinks established approaches as he challenges the practice of treating ancient Near Eastern (ANE) texts as direct source material for Homeric epic. His comparison of the structures and content of ANE and Iliadic battle narratives is particularly effective, as it highlights the singularity of the Homeric accounts. ANE battle accounts are generally brief, focus on the events before and after battle, and, most importantly, lack the narrative poikilia of Homeric combat scenes (46). In contrast, Homer aestheticises and narrativises battle itself to the extent that it becomes "a vehicle of meaning" (41). Morrison, on the other hand, compares works separated by time in his evaluation of ancient and modern epistolary narratives. His approach is a fruitful one. Although all the narratives reflect an interest in the psychology of the letter writers, he identifies several characteristics exclusive to the ancient examples, including their brevity, tolerance for narrative gaps, and lack of editorial presence. Morrison's findings, and his discussion of the letters' features as they relate to the biographical and apologetic traditions, suggest multiple avenues for further study of the genre.

Scodel adopts an innovative approach that incorporates comparisons to the Hebrew Bible and cognitive narratological theory in order to evaluate the distinctive qualities of Homeric shifts in focus, narrative gaps, and characters' capacities to make inferences. This is a dynamic essay, and one especially significant to our understanding of Homeric psychology and characterization as expressed through narrative techniques. As Scodel shows, Homeric characters often grapple with or make inferences about the mental states of other characters. She convincingly analyzes these attempts at "mind-reading" as indications of the narrator's interest in his characters' Theory of Mind. Moreover, the narrator's withholding of information about his characters' states of mind also creates drama; these gaps draw in (and perplex) the external audience as it struggles to understand the unclear motivations of seemingly known figures. Characters in the Hebrew Bible are similarly opaque, but the critical difference lies in the Homeric characters' ostensible transparency. Although the latter "talk and talk," inference is still needed in order to construe their motives (74).

Four essays explore the various relationships between Greek narrative forms, narrative meaning, and performance. Not all the elements they identify are exclusively 'Greek,' but they are fundamental elements in the Greek narrative traditions. Erwin Cook's meticulous discussion of intricate ring structures in the Odyssey ultimately connects form with performance, suggesting that Homer's distinctive applications of ring composition guide specific audience responses to eternally-returning epic narrative. Turning to the Athenian stage, P.E. Easterling surveys the narrative effects of the spatial and temporal compression of tragedy. Her section on messenger speeches delivered by actors also cast as protagonists is especially noteworthy. These narrative speeches unite the different agents of a tragedy in the single voice of the protagonist, and, consequently, cohere and reflect the multiplicity of voices intrinsic to Greek drama. The realities of performance can also be determinants of epinician narrative, as Lucia Athanassaki shows in her treatment of related occasions as stimuli for narrative creation in Pindar's odes for the Emmenidai. Athanassaki's detailed essay reveals that the content, themes, and occasion-specific elements in Pythian 6 are remembered and adapted by the new narratives of Olympian 2, Olympian 3, and Isthmian 2. As a group, the Emmenid odes demonstrate that related occasions provide opportunities for constructing rich narrative associations between successive odes for the same family. Alex Purves' nuanced consideration of the deliberately anti-narratorial Sappho offers different insight into lyric narrative. Purves elaborates Sappho's evocation and subversion of Homeric narrative forms in her analysis of elliptical interrogative and indefinite pronouns in Sappho fr. 1. Aphrodite's deployment of tis and ti recall, for example, Il.1.8 and 1.362–3 as markers for expected narrative, but Sappho's refusal to answer Aphrodite's questions denies both goddess and audience the narrative that the markers imply.

Irene J.F. de Jong takes a different approach to locating the specifically 'Greek,' utilizing historical narratology to probe the origins of the ubiquitous 'anonymous traveler' device. De Jong tracks appearances of this third-person observer from modern European novels back through a variety of ancient genres. She persuasively argues that this traveling stranger, through whom places, peoples, and narratives may be viewed, is an originally Greek device. Her meditation on the diffusion of the motif is particularly interesting. It is unlikely that every modern manifestation of the 'anonymous traveler' was consciously inspired by Greek originals; de Jong muses that the device operates like a meme that has been copied to the point that imitators are unaware of its true genealogy.

The influence of tradition and imitatio is central to Lisa Irene Hau's study of characteristics distinct to Greek historiography. Hau touches on many elements in few pages; she is most successful in her compilation and discussion of stock situations, events, and topoi that pervade Greek historiography. These stock features become abiding markers in the Greek historiographical tradition that direct and characterize the content of historical report, and Hau's identification of them is a valuable contribution. Dennis Pausch brings Greek historiography to Rome in his analysis of Polybius' and Livy's authorial relationships with their readers. His consideration of metalepsis, summaries/previews, and other narrative strategies provides insight into the narrative practices of both historians, as well as the surprising final picture of the Roman "standing for a more literary way of reading history" (296–7).

Understanding particular representations of the universal is just as critical to defining Greek narrative as identifying its idiosyncrasies. On this topic, Douglas Cairns delivers one of the collection's most exciting essays. Cairns anchors his study in cognitive approaches to detail how a recurrent artistic form can be encapsulated in a culture as a traditional norm, so that it "encourages a symbiotic replication both of the form and of the response that it evokes; it helps define the repertoire of both artists and audience" (108). Cairns uses the (likely) universal 'principle of alternation'—the idea that no human life is without suffering—to trace the ways Greek exemplary narratives incorporate and are determined by this normative pattern to the extent that the pattern itself becomes a salient feature of Greek culture. His final reading of the Life of Aemilius Paullus reveals that Plutarch organizes his narrative, and structures audience response, through the principle of alternation as expressed in Iliad 24. This ultimately "re-Hellenises the theme of the mutability of fortune" in the story of the man instrumental to the rise of Rome (135).

René Nünlist and Richard Hunter depart from the other essays and examine the Greeks' critical awareness of narrative. Nünlist moves beyond Aristotle and provides a detailed account of ancient critical discourse on the subject. United by their belief in the importance of narrative, ancient scholars engaged in heated debates on the value of narrative elements ranging from Homeric analepsis to narrative 'tedium' (τὸ προσκορές). Of particular note is the sustained interest of critics in narrative's effects on the reader, which has previously been underestimated and which resonates with a number of contributions in the collection. Hunter evaluates the relationship between narrative and critical discourse from a different angle in his piece on literary expressions of the Odyssean "problem of beginnings"(Od 1.9.–12 and 7.241–3). He begins by observing the effects that this narrative strategy had on subsequent literature, as later authors thematized issues of choice, causation, and taxis. Hunter's demonstration that some works also integrate the critical discourse about Homer's "particularly Greek" way of structuring narrative is especially provocative (A-scholium, Il. 1.1). For example, Heliodorous reflects the critical tradition of Homeric interpretation in his portrayal of the 'Odyssean' Calasiris as a character who has "fully internalized Homeric lore and scholarship" (150). Together, Nünlist's and Hunter's essays form an excellent foundation for continued study of how Greek narratives inform and are informed by literary critical discourse.

J. R. Morgan explores issues of cultural identity and narrative expression in his affirmation of the 'Greekness' of the Aethiopica. Central to Morgan's claim is the novel's intense and exclusive engagement—intertextual and otherwise—with the classical literary tradition. Other elements, such as the quality of Greek and non-Greek focalization and characterization, and the representation of a quintessentially Greek Theagenes, reinforce the novel's emphatically Greek orientation. Morgan's position that Heliodorus' Emesan background supports, rather than invalidates, his Greek identity is persuasive, and aligns with his final reading of Heliodorous' Ethiopia as a "true Greece beyond the south" (275). His discussion of the ideological perspectives that have influenced various readings of the novel is especially germane to the collection's goal: it evokes the sensitive issues (judiciously addressed in the volume's introduction) inherent in establishing literary boundaries to differentiate what is 'Greek' narrative and what is not.

A conference proceedings cannot, by nature, be comprehensive, and this collection is not an exception. Herodotus, for example, receives only passing attention, and studies of philosophical, inscriptional, and oratorical narratives are absent. The inclusion of essays that consider these types of narratives would have complemented the volume's concentration on poetry, historiography, and the novel (although the editors do note that several conference participants were unable to contribute to the published proceedings). The volume is well-produced with few typographical errors. The index is thorough, but an index locorum would have been a welcome addition.

These omissions do not, however, undermine the merits of the volume as a thoughtful, innovative, and timely response to a complex question that concerns all Hellenists. This is a valuable book, both for the quality of the individual essays and the scholarship that it is sure to generate.

(read complete article)

Anna Marmodoro, Jonathan Hill (ed.), The Author's Voice in Classical and Late Antiquity. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Pp. xvii, 420. ISBN 9780199670567. $185.00.
Reviewed by Isabella Canetta, Università Cattolica di Milano (isabella.canetta@alice.it)
Version at BMCR home site

Preview
The relationship between the narrator and his narrative, the role of the author within his own works, and the reader's perception of his voice, have been a central issue in modern literary criticism. In spite of Roland Barthes' famous epitaph the author is not dead, but still enjoys good health and, as Irene Peirano puts it (and Tim Whitmarsh polemically remarks), is now a textual category and a hermeneutical tool in the literary discourse.¹ This book, a collection of thirteen contributions edited by Anna Marmodoro and Jonathan Hill, attests his vitality and constant centrality, exploring the different facets of the author's voice in ancient literature, with a snapshot on visual art. The period covered is very wide: it ranges from Homeric epic to Ignatius of Antioch by way of the Roman Republic and the first centuries of the Empire. The authors and the literary genres are numerous: Homer and Virgil, Caesar and Xenophon, Cicero, Horace, and Pliny the Younger; tragedy, historiography, and epistolography.
The volume is divided into two parts. The first part focuses on the different manifestations of the author's voice and falls into three sections: the opening section discusses third-person narratives (Homer's Iliad, Xenophon's and Caesar's works); the middle section investigates the dialogic voice (tragedy, Cicero, Horace); and the final section examines some aspects of first-person narratives (Polybius, Pliny the Younger, Apuleius). The second half of the volume looks at the ways in which the author is perceived to carry authority. In particular these essays consider the image that writers, real or fictional, present of themselves and of their works to later readers. This part takes into consideration the works of Virgil, Greek epistolography, Socrates in the Platonic dialogues and, finally, visual art.
The first two contributions mirror each other to a degree. Barbara Graziosi brings to light the poet's voice in a poem like the Iliad, which possibly had no individual author and always has been regarded as objective and impersonal, whereas Christopher Pelling demonstrates that the third-person narrative by Caesar is a sort of "falsehood", being "a first-person-masquerading-as-third-person" (p. 51) and that Xenophon, the third-person narrator in the Anabasis, portrays himself as a prominent, special character. In order to grasp Homer's voice, Graziosi focuses on the audience's perception of the poet in the Iliad and not of the Iliad, as she puts it (p. 10). Since the poem represents a verbal act, the poet's voice is revealed through linguistic features such as second-person addresses, verbal tenses, deictic markers, and different levels of focalization. Moreover, thanks to the particular relationship between the Muses and himself, a relationship established immediately at the beginning of the poem, the poet manages to "be present" in the midst of the events transcending the spacial and temporal distances between the time of the story and the time of the narration.
Christopher Pelling compares two famous third-person narratives, Xenophon's Anabasis and Caesar's Commentarii. These works share a particular feature: the author and the main character of the narrative are the same person, and both writers hide behind anonymity (Caesar) or pseudonymity (Xenophon). But there is an important difference. Every reader, ancient or modern, knows that the I-Caesar (the writer) merges with the he-Caesar (the general acting in the narrative); a close analysis of the motive-statements in the Commentarii, that is the way by which Caesar the writer sets out an intention or motive of Caesar the general, shows that the third-person overlaps with the first-person, and increasingly so as the works reach their climax. Thus, we are always reminded that "this is Caesar's story in every sense, acted out by him, perceived by him, with extra details discovered by him, then finally told by him" (p. 55). On the contrary, Xenophon presents a double attitude: on the one hand he tends to identify with the army, on the other he portrays himself as someone special and makes himself a prominent character.
The second section opens with William Allan and Adrian Kelly's contribution on Greek tragedy. In spite of the difficulty of finding the author's voice in this literary genre, dominated mainly by polyphony, this voice can be captured through the stage dialogue between the remote heroic world of the myth and fifth-century Athens. The distance between these two worlds, the mythological and the actual, is called heroic difference by the contributors. According to them, Athenian tragedy was a sort of mass entertainment, something similar to Hollywood cinema, and the tragedians used its inherent polyphony to encourage the audience to think about and appreciate the values of their society. It was a political and democratic form of art, appealing to all the social groups of fifth-century Athens.
The following two chapters discuss the dialogic voice in Cicero's works and in Horace's second book of Satires. Sarah Culpepper Stroup takes up a diachronic approach to describe the development of Cicero's dialogues, in particular De oratore, Brutus, and Laelius. Far from the political involvement, the voice of the author becomes more and more dialogic and the dialogue increasingly theatrical. Stephen Harrison shows that the different characters speaking in the second book of the Satires display various aspects of the poet himself and that their voices share important elements — biographical, philosophical, ethical — with the author.
Some aspects of ancient first-person narratives are investigated in the third section. The massive presence of the authorial persona in Polybius' Histories is interpreted by Georgina Longley as a form of didacticism. Within a long tradition of self-identification in historiography, Polybius deliberately takes on a teacher-like authorial persona and consciously presents himself both as a narrator and as a guide. Thus he can teach not only history, but also how to read it and how to derive full benefit from his work.
Rhiannon Ash draws attention to Pliny's letters, in particular to the small group describing Aquilius Regulus. These seven letters can be considered as a sort of invective embedded in the epistolary corpus, allowing the normally benign Pliny to present himself as a neo-Ciceronian writer creating the voice of a new brave orator.
The last chapter of this section criticizes the value of narratological patterns in our approach to ancient texts. Tim Whitmarsh shows that for the ancient reader the narrator-author divide so fundamental in contemporary criticism simply did not exist and cannot be used to interpret such first-person fictional works as Apuleius' Metamorphoses or Lucian's True Stories. This kind of narrative may be called "fictional autobiography", without using modern narratological categories which disregard the literary conventions of the ancient world. So it would be better to consider these narratives as conventional instances "of illusionistic impersonation" (p. 240), where the author creates an illusion of identity with the role he plays.
The second half of the book investigates a very interesting issue: how the author (real or fictitious) succeeds in making himself authoritative and in manipulating the readers' response to his work. Irene Peirano examines the authenticating force of the signature, in particular in Homer and in Virgil, as it lends credibility, authority and even value to the narrative itself. At the same time, the signature may also be spurious and used as a device to give authenticity to fake texts, as is demonstrated in some of the following chapters. With regard to Virgil, we have two sphragides, one authentic in Georg. 4.559–66 and one spurious, the famous four lines mentioned by Donatus and Servius and supposedly opening the Aeneid. Other tools to convey the presence of the author in the text are self-quotation, self-correction, and self-allusion, as the song of Iopas demonstrates following Callimachus' practice. Thus, the reader is continually reminded that there is an author and that he is reading an authoritative version.
A.D. Morrison focuses on four fictional collections of letter (those attributed to Plato, Xenophon, Solon, and Euripides), showing the different tools that the fake authors used to give authenticity to these letters, while at times undermining it. He mentions, for example, the formal epistolary opening identifying the writer and the recipient; many private details which, though unattested, appear perfectly plausible; and key events in the lives and careers of the purported authors. By contrast, the apologetic character of many of these letters, especially those in the Platonic corpus and the Seventh Letter in particular, prompts the reader to doubt their real authenticity. Yet their credibility improved with the passing of time; as the letters moved away from their original context, they were progressively believed to be real.
With Michael Erler we enter the field of philosophy. Erler points out the continuity from Plato to late Neoplatonists and philosophers like Iamblichus, Syrian, Hermeias or Proclus. Some elements thought to be typical of these philosopers, such as a modest view of one's own abilities and the necessity of an external help to achieve knowledge or to save one's own soul, are already found in Plato. Socrates, often represented as a godsend and a messenger from the realm of gods, is the figure linking their philosophical views: in fact, Socrates is considered an "instructor, who wants to give external assistance to those who seek the truth by/for themselves" (p. 319)
The role of a fake authorship in epistles is discussed again by Mark Edwards. The long recension of letters attributed to Ignatius of Antioch, a spurious canon of thirteen or seventeen letters, must have been written by a later author because many dogmatic propositions and several allusions to ecclesiastical order could only be made after the triumph of Constantine. The forger of the collection creates a sort of archetypical bishop, a personification of the ideal bishop, both on the stylistic and the religious level. In contrast to the short recension idiosyncrasies of style, borrowings from the lexicon of pagan culture, and concepts susceptible of heresy are tempered or purged. Thus the voice of a bishop of the fourth century is conjured to say what was expected of him.
The last chapter could appear odd among essays about the author's voice, since images seem to have no voice at all. Michael Squire immediately points out the problem and solves it: visual objects have their authors, too, and authorship could affect not only what the viewer sees, but how he responds to it as well. Once again the signature plays an important role. In the late Hellenistic and Roman world, sculptures, paintings, and other artistic objects relating to the great artists of the past had the function of showing the learning and the knowledge of the collectors. Furthermore, the supposed identity of the artist, either inscribed or not, determined the response of the viewer, and of the possible buyer, too! Signatures could obviously be false: a canonical set of celebrated artists seems to have been used for forgeries; nonetheless, the viewer connected these objects with the works of those famous artists and judged them on the basis of this connection. Then Squire focuses on the small Tabulae Iliacae, particularly on the six associated with the same "Theodorean" artist. The term is always inscribed in adjectival form in contravention to the nouns of standard epigraphic formulae; this oddity might mean that the name had a descriptive, maybe prescriptive, function rather than an attributive one. According to Posidippus' epigrams and Pliny the Elder an artist named Theodorus was overtly associated with miniaturism so that those observing the tablets could discover additional paratextual meaning connecting their very small dimensions with the tiny objects of a celebrated artist of miniatures. As a result, authorship — in the Iliac tablets, and in other texts or visual objects — could be "manipulated to forge certain sorts of interpretive response" (p. 400) and to evoke particular ideas and concepts.
The variety of authors and literary genres treated by the contributors, the learned and clear discussion in each chapter, and the fascinating theme of the book make this volume worth reading. In particular Tim Whitmarsh's criticisms of our instinctive use of contemporary narrator-author categories to interpret Greek and Latin literature should be contemplated in order to understand and better appraise the ancient reader's approach to narratives.

---

Notes:
1.   There are other assumptions about the role of the author; for instance, Antoine Compagnon (Le Démon de la théorie, 1998) considers him as one of the six literary functions and, more recently, Stefano Ballerio (Sul conto dell'autore, 2013) proposed a historicist reading of his voice, especially within the novel.


(read complete article)