2009.03.39

Anton Powell, Virgil the Partisan: A Study in the Re-Integration of Classics. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2008. Pp. xi, 309. ISBN 9781905125210. $69.50.
Reviewed by: Román Facundo Espino, Universidad Nacional del Sur (rfespino@yahoo.com.ar)

[Table of contents provided at the end of the review.]

La obra de Virgilio ha llegado a ser, en muchos sentidos, el hilo conductor de una laberíntica historia de lecturas a menudo discordantes, en sí misma objeto de lecturas.¹ Desde mediados del siglo XX, simplificando, la crítica virgiliana está signada por dos posiciones interpretativas contrapuestas: la historicista y la pesimista, generalmente atribuida a la llamada Escuela de Harvard. Comprender el libro de Powell (P.) requiere tener en cuenta estas posturas, frecuentemente polémicas.

Según el autor, la resistencia a reconocer tendencias pro-augústeas en Virgilio, y el extendido desconocimiento del contexto en que escribió, son determinantes a la hora de negar lo que constituye su tesis, a saber: "[T]he poet had an intention to defend the cause of Octavianus-Augustus, and this intention was largely responsible for the conception of the Georgics and Aeneid and of much in the Eclogues" (5). Una precisión metodológica acompaña esta postura: los poemas de Virgilio no deben ser interpretados aisladamente ya que por sus conexiones estructurales conforman una oeuvre unitaria. Más aún: esas conexiones atañen no sólo a mecanismos de alusión y trasvase propios de los recursos formales de la literatura helenística, sino sobre todo a la política romana contemporánea: la causa de Octaviano devino el leitmotiv unificador de la poesía de Virgilio. Es necesario que "the study of genre, of poetic architecture and of political history go instructively together" (5). La "reintegración" a que hace alusión el título del libro apunta a la re-inserción del proyecto poético virgiliano en el contexto político e histórico de Roma en el siglo I a.C.

La interpretación historicista de P.² depende específicamente del recurso a prosistas cronológicamente cercanos a la época augústea, y mayormente desconocidos o eclipsados por la versión, ahora canónica, de Syme: Suetonio, Apiano y Dión Casio. El lector moderno seguramente consideraría a Marco Antonio el enemigo par excellence de Octaviano. Sin embargo, los prosistas señalan que en el período anterior a la decisiva (aunque poco estudiada) batalla naval de Naulochus, del año 36, otro enemigo amenazaba el horizonte militar y la popularidad de Octaviano: el hijo de Pompeyo, "whom we now call, in accordance with victorious Augustan usage, Sextus Pompeius" (16). La prominencia de Antonio es un producto del discurso oficial de los años veinte, respuesta indirecta a los valores populares que Sexto continuaba representando en la memoria popular. La hipótesis más importante de P. es que entre los años 42 y 36, este oscuro personaje "enduringly damaged the future emperor's reputation and his prospects. The structure of much of the Eclogues, and of the Georgics and Aeneid will be presented as responding to problems raised by Octavian's failings against Sextus" (18).

Virgil the Partisan construye una interpretación alegórica de la poesía virgiliana. La obra está dividida en dos partes dispuestas estratégicamente: Studying Virgil and the established partisan: The Aeneid incluye cinco capítulos sobre elementos temáticos y estructurales de la Eneida, especialmente de sus primeros seis libros, mientras Partisan in the making: The Eclogues and Georgics, abarca sendos capítulos sobre los poemas iniciales de Virgilio.

Toda lectura alegórica responde a un mecanismo: en este caso, todo elemento de la oeuvre remite a un evento, proceso o personaje histórico. Así, en el capítulo 2, "The theft of pietas", P. sostiene que, a pesar de su cristianización, el concepto reviste en Virgilio un significado peculiar: la subordinación de los dioses a los detentadores mortales de esta virtud. Eneas es el hombre pius por excelencia; según la moral aristocrática romana, las virtudes circulaban hereditariamente: los Iulii, descendientes del héroe, debían ser pii. La pietas caracterizaba al futuro Augusto? Considerando el primer símil de la Eneida, se puede ver a Octaviano en este pietate ... gravem virum? P. considera muy posible tal identificación.

Durante las guerras civiles, las facciones en pugna intentaban, y por varios medios, erigirse ideológicamente en modelos de virtud. Lo sorprendente del énfasis virgiliano es que las proscripciones y matanzas decretadas por los triunviros representaban lo opuesto a la pietas. De la lectura de los prosistas se desprende que, en el mundo romano, pietas se aplica al ámbito familiar, y especialmente a la relación entre hermanos y entre padres e hijos: la acción de los triunviros podía ser presentada positivamente, en tanto acción debida a la memoria de César (en este caso, a través de su hijo adoptivo), pero tanto Dión como Apiano registran el descontento y la oposición suscitados por los asesinatos políticos, y Suetonio afirma que Octaviano fue más severo que Antonio y Lépido en la prosecución de las represalias y proscripciones: el contraste inconciliable entre la lealtad familiar del divi filius y las pietates de las familias de los proscriptos representaba un problema aparentemente insoluble para la ideología pública del futuro autócrata. A este respecto, los prosistas también recalcan la primacía militar y moral de Sexto Pompeyo: además del favor popular de que gozaba y de que era conocido nada menos que como magnus pius, la firma del tratado de Miseno evidencia su poder (especialmente naval) en su enfrentamiento con Antonio y Octaviano: éstos debieron no sólo aceptar la vuelta de los exiliados, sino también devolver parte de las tierras confiscadas. El año 40 es paradigmático en este sentido: "Octavian had feared to make war simultaneously against Antony and Sextus, and so had married Scribonia, an overture towards Sextus since Scribonia was the sister of Sextus' right-hand man, Scribonius Libo" (71).

Sexto Pompeyo, asentado en Sicilia, devino el principal protector de los proscriptos: mientras Octaviano decretaba la muerte de ciudadanos romanos, Sexto los acogía. En la Eneida, Virgilio construye una respuesta a este problema del pasado de Octaviano: su aparente carencia de pietas frente a este magnus pius. Eneas, antecesor y símbolo de Octaviano, pius por antonomasia, es la clave de esta solución: "Virgil gently gives to murder its imaginative underpinning. The poet takes the very virtue that was held up popularly against Octavian, and seeks to make it his title to rule" (77).

El capítulo tres, "Recovering Sicily", interpreta las versiones de Sicilia en los libros III y V de la Eneida, doble visita sin precedentes en el material mítico que ha suscitado un cierto estupor entre los críticos. Una vez más, P. analiza ambos episodios por referencia al contexto histórico: que Eneas no enfrente a Escila permite a Virgilio evitar al ancestro de los Iulii una posible pérdida de hombres y naves que despertaría en su audiencia el recuerdo de los problemas reales de Octaviano en su enfrentamiento con Sexto Pompeyo, cuyo principal baluarte se encontraba en la isla. De la misma manera, el uso reiterado de palabras con la raíz fug- (fuga, fugere), es otra compleja respuesta de Virgilio a un punto oscuro en la reputación de Octaviano: las versiones, recogidas por los prosistas, según las cuales durante la batalla de Philippi había huido de la lucha, conducta que se habría reiterado en otras ocasiones vinculadas con Sicilia (en las batallas de Scyllaeum y Tauromenium, en las que fue derrotado por Sexto Pompeyo). Por otra parte, P. vincula la celebración de los juegos en honor de Anquises y los augurios con los presagios celestes acaecidos en ocasión de la muerte (histórica) de Julio César, según un esquema de identificación entre ambos y, por consiguiente, entre Eneas y Octaviano. El sentido simbólico de la isla tenía relación directa con el pasado inmediato de la audiencia romana de la Eneida: durante seis años Sicilia había sido el principal bastión de la oposición a Octaviano, y desde ella se había organizado el bloqueo que había provocado la hambruna en Roma: "For the poet to have ignored such thoughts, not to have integrated them into the effect he contrived, would have been to allow them to interfere, to act as distraction. Rather, Virgil put contemporary memories to positive use" (128).

Las emociones y comportamiento sexual de Eneas, elementos centrales en el debate crítico de las últimas décadas, constituyen el punto de análisis del capítulo quinto, "Aeneas, sex and misery". Tomando en cuenta las fallidas relaciones de Eneas con Dido y Palante, P. afirma, en concordancia con los críticos "pesimistas", que "Virgil's eroticism in the mortal sphere is reserved for contexts of misery and death" (151): sólo tres veces en el poema se asocia a Eneas con laet-. Los paralelismos con Niso y Euríalo, y los versos 42-43 del libro XI (Tene... miserande puer, cum laeta veniret invidit Fortuna mihi...?) son interpretados por P. como evidencia de una relación homoerótica entre Eneas y Palante: los libros 7-12, desde esta perspectiva, devienen la historia de un amor frustrado, a partir de los cual se explicaría la enigmática invocación a Erato, musa de la poesía amorosa, en el segundo proemio de la Eneida.

La lectura alegórica de P. se aparta de la interpretación "pesimista" a partir de aquí: si Eneas se muestra reluctante en la demostración de sus sentimientos por Palante se debe al contraste entre un sentimiento semejante y la actitud (histórica) de Augusto como promotor del matrimonio y las familias numerosas: habría aceptado Octaviano que se vinculara a su ancestro con un "amor griego", en una época y un contexto en que las relaciones homosexuales y el afeminamiento eran considerados negativamente? Según P., tanto Julio César como su hijo adoptivo fueron objeto de burla en este sentido, especialmente Octaviano (de acuerdo con Suetonio: Sextus Pompeius ut effeminatum insectatus est). Virgilio habría proporcionado una solución indirecta, ya que "It was the pain of his love for Pallas which led Aeneas to that consummation of traditional manhood: slaying the enemy's champion in battle" (167). A esta interpretación debatible, el autor agrega otra: si la frustración es el sentimiento dominante de Eneas, también esto sirve a un propósito pro-augústeo: "Aeneas had had no sustained happiness, little obvious pleasure... The poem can have no happy ending for the hero, because in the 20s B.C. the happiness --sexual and familial-- of dynast was a frightening and divisive topic... Virgil promoted the theme of self-subordination in the ruler, contrary to reality, as a good propagandist" (172-3). El mismo esquema alegórico, de correspondencias históricas, es aplicado en los capítulos dedicados a interpretar las Églogas y las Geórgicas.

La obra de Virgilio, de acuerdo con la perspectiva de P. y sus conclusiones, fue diseñada para responder a los inconvenientes y puntos oscuros de la reputación de Augusto: en las Églogas, Octaviano es introducido como un dios que soluciona un problema contemporáneo: la distribución de tierra a los veteranos y la consiguiente expropiación (que él mismo había provocado). El entusiasta elogio de la agricultura italiana en las Geórgicas es una respuesta al urgente problema de las hambrunas desatadas por la prolongada guerra con Sexto Pompeyo (y como consecuencia de las confiscaciones decretadas por Octaviano). Virgilio, en la interpretación de P., "resembles a lawyer for the defence... It is not that the reputation of Aeneas has always been elevated by Virgil to match the high achievements of Octavian-Augustus: rather, Aeneas has in some respects been reduced, to match and exculpate the embarrassments of Octavian" (285-6).

Augustan Culture, de K. Galinsky, especialmente por su análisis de la persistente asociación Octaviano-Neptuno y su interpretación del primer símil de la Eneida, y Darkness Visible: A Study of Vergil's Aeneid, de W. R. Johson, por sus útiles observaciones sobre el método alegórico en la interpretación de Virgilio, junto con el esencial A Companion to the Study of Virgil de N. Horsfall, son las omisiones más importantes de la bibliografía de P.

Si toda lectura alegórica obedece a un mecanismo, no menos cierto es que una obra con la complejidad característica de la poesía de Virgilio no siempre encaja en un mecanismo interpretativo semejante. Es notorio que los análisis de P. no se refieran más que vagamente a los seis últimos libros de la Eneida, los de la implantación efectiva del linaje de Eneas en Italia, y que no se haga referencia a la tradición según la cual Virgilio había decidido quemar su obra inconclusa, mientras, de un modo polémico y, a mi juicio, no válido, P. elabora una compleja interpretación de las razones "psicológicas" de Virgilio para apoyar a Octaviano, basándose en otra vertiente de aquella misma tradición: la de su homosexualidad.

Efectivamente, la lectura alegórica tiene límites inherentes a su misma formulación. Uno, metodológico, se vincula con las fuentes: cuando no se dispone de evidencia documental que permita establecer el nexo alegórico, se corre el riesgo de forzar la interpretación del material disponible. P., que correctamente enfatiza la importancia de las fuentes prosísticas para una comprensión más adecuada del contexto histórico de Virgilio, no puede evitar aquel peligro, particularmente al intentar explicar la subordinación del poeta a la propaganda de un "war-lord" como Octaviano: "Since Virgil had an intense sensibility towards the beauty of young men, and Octavian himself was a young man of very attractive looks who was glad to have them acknowledged, may a study of the personal in Virgil lead us back into the political? Did he, like his character Tityrus, find Octavian's face unforgettable, with consequences for his work? ... It would be irresponsible not to entertain the possibility that for Virgil part of the reason for his political partisanship was he found Octavian gorgeous" (288).

Defender, por otra parte, la validez de nuestros argumentos es parte de la estrategia persuasiva de toda interpretación. P. reiteradamente considera que críticos de la talla de Putnam, Thomas o Williams han negado intenciones políticas en Virgilio inducidos por sus propios ideales políticos y concepciones sobre la autonomía de la literatura antes que por evidencia filológica e histórica. Sin embargo, si Virgilio entendió la política de su tiempo a partir de las premisas de su tiempo, cómo podríamos entender hoy a Virgilio, sino dentro de la lógica y los límites de nuestra propia época? Si efectivamente el poeta defendió la causa de Octaviano, por qué no defender la "causa" de un Virgilio no augústeo, si tal postura es coherente con los textos? Ninguna interpretación puede rebasar el horizonte ideológico e histórico que la hace posible: el mismo P. recurre en numerosas ocasiones a analogías con situaciones políticas y personajes contemporáneos (la Rusia stalinista, Churchill, España durante la guerra civil). La suma de perspectivas y métodos distantes y opuestos enriquecen la vasta y laberíntica historia de lecturas de Virgilio, estimulan nuevos acercamientos a su poesía.

Determinar si el poeta romano realmente batalló por la instauración de la monarquía hereditaria en Roma o fue la voz de los vencidos, si contribuyó a extender el imperium sine fine o socavó las ambiciones propagandísticas de Augusto, es menos importante que el hecho de que sigamos leyendo a Virgilio y que su poesía siga generando interpretaciones tan dispares y contrapuestas.

Table of contents

Acknowledgements and Prefatory Note (ix)
Chronology (xi)

Part 1: Studying Virgil and the established partisan: the Aeneid
1. Studying Virgil: several types of circularity-and an escape (3)
2. The theft of pietas (31)
3. Recovering Sicily (87)
4. The peopling of the underworld: Aeneid 6.608-27 (133)
5. Aeneas, sex and misery (149)

Part 2: Partisan in the making: the Eclogues and Georgics
6. The Eclogues (181)
7. The Georgics: the fate of the Muses (227)
8. Conclusion (283)
9. Bibliography (291)
10. Index (301)

Notes:

1. Comparetti, D., Virgilio nel Medioevo (primera edición: Pisa, 1872), P. Courcelle, Lecteurs paiens et lecteurs chrétiens de L'Énéide, París, 1984 (dos volúmenes); Ziolkowski, T., Virgil and the Moderns, Princeton, 1993.

2. "To use an image which Virgil and his model Hesiod might have recognized, we must put the hawk of history back among the doves of literature" (5). (read complete article)

2009.03.38

André Hurst (ed., trans., comm.), Lycophron, Alexandra. Collection des universités de France Série grecque. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2008. Pp. xciii, 334. ISBN 9782251005515. €55.00 (pb).
Reviewed by Gauthier Liberman, Université Paris Ouest (gauthierliberman@free.fr)

After many years of neglect, French-speaking scholarship has now repeatedly¹ grappled with what may be the most illegible piece of classical literature, one which nobody can read without a proper commentary and which even then makes very difficult reading. I imagine some scholars may eventually, after repeated perusal, be able to read and understand Pindar or Thucydides' Greek without any external help, but I doubt if that can ever happen with Lycophron's 1474 cryptic iambic trimeters.

However, there is evidence that this poem was read and explained in ancient schools, namely Statius' well-known line carmina Battiadae latebrasque Lycophronis atri (Siluae 5,3,157). Statius tells us that his father used to explain Lycophron's enigmas to the sons of the Roman elite. Hurst (p. XLV) wrongly quotes this line as 5,2,157 and fails to note that atri is a humanistic correction for the only authoritative manuscript's reading ari, instead of which arti has also been suggested (Baehrens). The use of both words is quite unusual. Hurst might have referred to B. Gibson's 2006 commentary on Siluae V, which has a good note on the passage (see also my forthcoming edition of the Siluae). Hurst, who has much to say that is interesting about Lycophron's obscurity, fails to notice that Statius' line is apparently the earliest testimony to the application of a word meaning "obscure" to Lycophron or his poem.

The literary part of the introduction, even if it is open to criticism, seems to me much better than the one dealing with the textual transmission, which raises serious issues. Hurst convincingly (in my judgment) argues for only one Lycophron, not two, and he fully discusses the views that have been suggested on the well-known final prophecy, reasonably concluding it is not interpolated. He has too little (I believe) to say on dialects and on metrics. I for one regret that he prefers (p. XXXVII) the reading ἄκρης (which I think is a mere Perseverationsfehler due to the preceding ἄρχῆς), rejects the variant ἄκρας and comments on the "jeu sur les sonorityés" introduced by what he considers an artificial ionicism. Nothing is proved by the fact that the phrase ἄκρης ἀρ' ἀρχῆς may have become standard among Byzantine writers (Eustath. Macremb., Christus Patiens). Hurst prints the transmitted reading πρύμνης ἀρ' ἄκρας l. 515 and ἐξ άκρας σκοπῆς l. 714: why not print the hyperionicism here as well? Is it because there is no variant? Then, when there is a variant, why not choose the one which is corroborated by the transmitted reading in 515 and 714? Oddly enough Hurst mentions Bachmann's correction ἄκρης in l. 515 but not in l. 714. Bachmann 1830's policy, criticized by Hermann (Opuscula, V, p. 235-236), is (I believe) utterly wrong but more consistent.

After the chapter on the textual transmission and the editor's principles there is a short and interesting literary essay the title of which is "Pourquoi l'Alexandra?" Hurst notes how much the recent revival of interest in Lycophron's poem is linked to a change of literary taste. He and others seem to think that Lycophron can be compared with other purposely obscure poets such as Mallarmé and Saint-John Perse. I venture to disagree, for I think Mallarmé and Saint-John Perse may be called obscure, but they are poets. Contrary to what many seem to think nowadays, obscurity by itself doesn't make good poetry or good literary criticism. We must be aware that Lycophron wanted his readers to ponder over his enigmas and understand them intellectually, while Mallarmé and Saint-John Perse's readers are supposed to enjoy their poetry without necessarily understanding its literal meaning. This difference seems to me to be essential. Hurst might have dwelt more extensively on the comic and scoptic elements in the poem (for example ll. 90 sq. on Paris are excellent and delightful scoptic poetry).

Hurst offers on p. XLIII-LV a sketch of the history, viz. the circulation, of the text. He then goes on to discuss the textual tradition. Apart from eight papyri, Hurst relies on nearly the same manuscripts as Scheer, who, in an 1879 paper, discerned two families, A (XIth c.), B (Xth c.) plus A's copy V (presumably XIth.), and C (A.D. 1282 for the part containing the poem), D (XIIIth c.), E (XIVth c.). Hurst adds "Scorialensis gr. R I 18" = M, a ms. written A.D. 1255 and brought to Hurst's notice by the late Irigoin. Hurst (p. LXXII) says it clearly belongs to the second family but shares some readings with what Hurst calls "la catégorie des deteriores de Scheer". He uses it in view of its age and (a strange reason!) its "probable origin". Hurst only sporadically quotes V and M. The description of the mss., which unusually follows the exposition of their division into two families, ends with these reassuring words (p. LXXV): "all the other mss. have been systematically collated by Antje Kolde. As I said before, no clue emerged which could have made it possible to challenge Scheer's classification". On p. XLII n. 1 the reader is informed that Hurst derives his knowledge of these mss. from a list of 136 rubrics "of varying import" established by the Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies of Toronto.² In the same note Hurst writes that a history of the manuscript tradition would be interesting but is beyond the scope of this edition for which "we have been content with collating the mss. and all the published papyri in order to offer an up-to-date version of the poem". Nowhere in the introduction or the siglorum index does Hurst enumerate the despised deteriores, but a few deteriores are individually mentioned here and there in the apparatus, e.g. the mysterious "Seld. 17 (s. XIV)" (p. 82, l. 1438), which is quoted for a good reading.³ Elsewhere Hurst uses the symbol "d", though he implies that these mss. have been collated. If the deteriores are what their name means and Hurst's above-mentioned statements imply, how is it that P. Oxy. 4428 (IIIth. c.) offers a reading, κελτου (l. 189), which "supports the reading of the deteriores" (p. LX)? The truth may be that those deteriores are recentiores which may have retained wholly or partly true or traditional readings absent from the few mss. used by Hurst. The same papyrus confirms a very significant good reading formerly known through the Etymologicum Magnum, φάρωι (l. 154), to which the shallow τάφωι has been substituted in the mss. used by Hurst. The apparatus at l. 154 implies that the reading of the papyrus originates from the Etymological Magnum!

The page pertaining to the editor's principles (LXXVI) is packed with contradictions and more or less problematic statements. He says it would be vain to draw a stemma, "which no former editor has done", but proceeds with sketching it. After saying that he has relied on Lycophron's "manner" to establish the text and consequently has not mechanically followed any of the two families, he informs his reader that he has attempted to stick to the first family. Though the deteriores do not fare well with him, he preferred some of their readings as "more in conformity with Lycophron's poetics". "I ask (he says) the reader to consider that the resulting margin of error probably (!) does not exceed the margin which would result from the mechanical application of a bias towards one branch of the manuscript tradition".

A rich apparatus of testimonia has its place above the apparatus criticus. Both are far from being always clearly and carefully written. Critical units are not separated when they pertain to the same line and, since they are packed together, they too often strain the reader's eyes and his attention. Why do mss. BD not stand in the critical unit for l. 51? The apparatus of testimonia at l. 97 is very hard to unravel. The apparatus criticus at l. 1126 attributes to the unfortunate Hermann the monstrous conjecture νούνυμνον. One may wonder a while what "πεπασμέναι Scheer cf. Π" (l. 1138) means, till one realizes that Π, which should refer to a papyrus, is all too often a misprint for "P" = antiquior paraphrasis. "478 post 479 poni monuit Canterus" and "1184 post 1185 collocari monet Canter" are bewildering. The reading which is printed at l. 1295 is not the one which comes first in the apparatus. Wilamowitz' conjecture at ll. 1436-1437, divided into two critical units with the omission of one fundamental word, is difficult to guess.

Fortunately, the establishment of the text, though not very satisfactory, is better than one might have expected after reading page LXXVI. The printed reading at l. 369 is ὡς φθιτῶν θέμις, but the truth lies in ms. B, ἡ θέμις φθιτῶν, which points to ἥ θέμις φθιτῶν, Kinkel's correction, mentioned by Hurst and confirmed by the Homeric phrase which is first to be found in Il. 9.134. The imperfect (ms. E and recentior paraphrasis) is necessary at l. 1463. Hurst, who prints the ugly prodelision ἡ 'χερουσία at l. 90, keeps the very problematic article l. 93 without noticing the difficulty of τριπλαῖς, which he translates "des trois belles". Hermann very attractively substituted to the article the necessary θεαῖς, which was lost before the next word beginning with theta. The article τόν is a mere stop-gap. On p. LXXVI-LXXVII Hurst claims to free his reader from the editor's arbitrariness through enriching the apparatus with many conjectures: actually they are too few. Still one must be happy to have them since they are not so rarely very probable or even certain (the future, conjectured by Holzinger at l. 1467, deserves to stand in the text). Lines 365-367 as printed by Hurst are neither Greek nor meaningful and the note on p. 155 fails to grasp the difficulty:

...μυρίων τέκνων
Ἑλλὰς στενάξει πᾶσα τοὺς κενοὺς τάφους
οὐκ ὀστοθήκαις χοιράδων ἐφημένους.

Even if one supposes a lacuna after l. 366, line 367 remains problematic: "ils ne sont point gisant dans leurs cercueils de récifs" (Hurst) is, even by Lycophron's standards, absurd: one would expect οὐκ ὀστοθήκαις χοιράσιν δ' ἐφημένους. Hurst attributes the essential δ' to Bachmann 1830, but I find it in the text of Meursius 1597, in that of my 1601 copy of Canter's edition, in the text of Kinkel's 1880 and Scheer's 1881 editions without anything in the apparatus indicating that it has been added (nor does Bachmann say he has added it): is it only the vulgate or is it also the transmitted reading or at least that of Scheer's primary mss.? Canter translates non urnis sed scopulis insidentia. The reading χοιράδων (a blatant solecism, if taken with the participle) is very probably a mistaken anticipation of the same form l. 373. Lycophron's Alexandra may belong to those classical texts which can still yield easy corrections: see line 1295:

ἔχθρας δὲ πυρσὸν ἦιραν ἠπείροις διπλαῖς.

Hurst prints Wilamowitz' ἦραν, "ils ont levé le flambeau guerrier (?) entre deux continents", but it is clear to me that what we need is ἧψαν. The phrase πυρσὸν ἧψαν, figurately used, is already found in Pindar, Isthm. 3 (4),61 (43) and illustrated by such Latin parallels as Florus, epit. 3,14,1, primam certaminum facem Gracchus accendit. How can the genitive stand in the second half of l. 1361? I think the last two words must be a local dative. Neither (I believe) can the accusative stand with a verb meaning "sleep in" at l. 1354: ...ἔνθα Τυφῶνος δάμαρ κευθμῶνος αἰνόλεκτρον ἐνδαύει μυχόν.

I suggest αἰνόλεκτρος ἐνδαύει μυχῶι, "where Typhon's dreadfully wedded (cf. 820) or dreadfully bedded wife sleeps in the recess of her hiding place". The correction of the hapax ἐνδαύει into ἐνναίει would solve the grammatical problem but seems implausible. Hurst's conjecture in l. 1438 implies a strained interpretation of the word βουτρόφοις and (more importantly) leaves 1436-1437 in a very problematic condition. The corruption appears to be concentrated in 1436-1437: line 1438 is very probably immune and Hurst's conjecture is no progress on former suggestions. Other proposals by Hurst may be seen at l. 520 (an obvious change of a majuscule into a minuscule, already in Canter's text), 869 (a barely apt neologism), 1212 (not better than the transmitted text).

The translation, which is understandably not more elegant than the difficult Greek, is useful but might have been much more helpful if it had been more accurate and closer to the original. More or less essential Greek words are left untranslated (e. g. ἄρτι l. 16; μυχούς l. 44; ταρχυθεῖσαν l. 369; αἰγίλιψ l. 1325; πάλαι l. 1326; μακρά l. 1451) or are mistranslated (e. g. ἄφλαστα "poupe" l. 26; "beaupré" with "poupe" for κόρυμβα l. 295; ἀρχαῖς "forces" l. 1437, through confusion with ἀλκαῖς?). The reader who faces the difficult ἔλυσε χρησμῶν στόμα (l. 4) is not helped by the extremely loose rendering "lâché le flot de ses oracles": why not "freed her mouth from its oracles"? For that seems to be the meaning of the Greek. Lines 1356-1358 are misconstrued (the first word goes with the last: they form a nice "Sperrung").

Readers of the translation will find extremely useful the commentary which runs more than 200 pages and is mainly due to Antje Kolde (cf. p. 85 n. 1): it provides them with almost all the mythological and literary information they need. Scholars, however, may miss a commentary adequately dealing with grammatical, lexicological and textual issues. There is a short bibliography at the end of the introduction. It is not very accurate: the illustrious K. O. Müller becomes C. G. Müller: his illustrious adversary G. Hermann becomes H. Hermann and his review of Bachmann's edition is quoted "H. Hermann (1834), Opuscula, Leipzig". Oddly enough the reader is informed p. XCII that the abbreviations of Greek authors' names are taken from "le plus récent dictionnaire grec, à savoir celui de Franco Montanari, Vocabolario della lingua Greca, Milano, (Loescher), 1^re édition 1995, 2^e édition 2004": what about the DGE? Montanari's dictionary is not used in France and it cannot be considered a reference work. References to secondary literature are not always clear or consistent: contrast e. g. "PCG" with "Austin-Kassel" ("Kassel-Austin" is usual): "Wilam. Comment. 7 cit." at l. 1436 with "Wilamowitz (1883) 7" at l. 1437. It seems useless to prefix "L." to every Byzantine lexicon. The book ends with an index of proper names in French.

However useful the literary introduction, the translation and the commentary may be, the recensio is clearly insufficient and the emendatio, the apparatus and even the translation fall short of expectations. A modern edition of the text with full, clear and accurate apparatus based on further investigation of the manuscript tradition and displaying critical acumen is still badly needed: we also need, after Holzinger's 1895 commentary, a modern one aiming at and reaching high philological standards. But this book fills a gap in the Budé series and, even if one may still look for a more scholarly achievement, one may welcome another⁴ edition of this abstruse poem from the pen of Hurst, who has been busy with Lycophron for decades and is one of the few living scholars who can claim to be very conversant with him.

Notes:

1. Hurst mentions a French literary translation by P. Quignard (1971) and annotated translations by G. Lambin (2005), P. Hummel (2006), C. Chauvin and Chr. Cusset (2008).

2. The list is available on http://pinakes.irht.cnrs.fr and has 142 items.

3. Did Hurst mean Oxford, Bodl. Libr., Arch. Seld. B. 18? There is no Lycophron in Seld. B. 17! Bachmann 1830 (from the collations of J. Potter) already attributed the above-mentioned reading to a "Seld." "Cod. Pal. 40" (l. 1199), "Neapolitanus I E 22" (l. 1403), "Auctar. T I 14" (l. 1438) may be worth checking.

4. The bibliography mentions an Italian edition (1991, with M. Fusillo and G. Paduano) with translation and notes and one in modern Greek (2004). (read complete article)

2009.03.37

Olivier Hekster, Rome and Its Empire, AD 193-284. Debates and Documents in Ancient History. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2008. Pp. xix, 183. ISBN 9780748623044. $40.00 (pb).
Reviewed by Andrew G. Scott, Hendrix College (scotta@hendrix.edu)

Hekster's book provides an introduction to the period AD 193-284, commonly known as one of crisis and instability. The volume is part of the Debates and Documents in Ancient History series, the goal of which is to present current evaluations of relevant issues combined with texts in translation; it is intended for "students, teachers and all those interested in the history of the Roman empire" (vii). The book is brief (86 pages of analysis, plus another 65 of primary texts in translation) and advanced readers would benefit more from Potter's recent offering.¹ In this volume Hekster takes on the difficult task of looking at a complicated period of Roman history in isolation and in a brief compass and is ultimately successful in providing an adequate and thorough introduction to the major issues of the "short" third century.

The volume is divided into two parts: "Debates," which contains an introduction, five chapters, and a conclusion, and "Documents," which includes select primary sources in translation.

The introduction, "History and Narrative," stresses the general instability of the third century, the main theme of the work, and it presents as topics for subsequent chapters the attempts and failures to establish dynasties, aggression from Germanic tribes and the Sassanids, plague, and economic insecurity. The introduction also discusses the primary sources for the period in question.

The first chapter, "A Capital and its Provinces," is divided into sections that analyze the situation at Rome and in the provinces. In the first section, Hekster suggests that, whereas Rome had previously been stable (with the exception of the civil wars of 68-69), the year 193 ushered in a long period of volatility. To emphasize the instability at Rome, three hypothetical lives are presented: one man living from 150-200, the second from 200-250, and the third from 250-300. According to this analysis, which seems a bit too broad to be effective, matters got progressively worse as time went on. Turning to the provinces, Hekster cites brigandage, soldiers making demands on the local population, and fighting on the frontiers as major problems. The effect of these problems on the provinces is difficult to assess, and regions are not treated individually (most likely due to lack of space). The chapter concludes with a discussion of the fragmentation of the empire (e.g. Palmyra) and the decentralization of Rome (primarily a product of constant campaigning by the emperor).

Chapter 2 addresses the issues of "Economy, Armies, and Administration," and a brief introduction presents the agricultural and financial problems of the period, as evidenced by the decline in inscriptions, building dedications, and shipwrecks; the drop in precious metal content in coins; the disappearance of banks in the West; and indications of economic instability in Egypt. Given the scope of the book, none of these issues can be discussed in detail, and for full comprehension several (if not all) require a broader timeline than can be given. Additionally, the third century saw many problems with the military, which centered on its large pay increases and extension of privileges under the Severans. Large payouts to foreign enemies contributed to the deteriorating financial situation of the empire and perhaps affected the soldiers, who were unhappy with their pay losing value through coin debasement. Hekster stresses the importance of a "military man" as leader of the empire in the third century, a point that is further made in chapter 4. The final section in this chapter addresses "Consequences of change." With the increased demands to be on campaign, the emperor formed greater connections with military men both for his imperial staff and in local communities, at the expense of the senators.

Chapter 3 examines "Law and Citizenship," with a focus on the rise of jurists during the Severan period and the purpose and consequences of the Constitutio Antoniniana. The analysis here becomes more focused as the work moves to a more specific issue. The rise of jurists was a result of the large number of legal appeals and the need for someone to deal with them in a systematic manner (thus making it normal to have a jurist serve as one of the two praetorian prefects). Another reason for the pronounced position of jurists in this period may have been Severus' interest in law, which had a subsequent effect on the system of patronage. This discussion of jurists leads to the Constitutio Antoniniana, and the different sides of a long and complex scholarly debate are presented clearly. While Hekster first follows Dio's assertion that increased tax revenue was the main purpose for the extension of Roman citizenship, he finds this explanation insufficient, and instead suggests that the periphery of the empire had become too difficult to ignore. Appeasement of the gods, the enhancement of Roman identity, and the creation of political advantages for Caracalla were also possible reasons for the Constitutio. Consequences of the measure include many people taking the name Aurelius, in recognition that Caracalla had bestowed this new privilege on them; Roman practice being adopted; Roman law extending its reach; and there perhaps being a greater centralization of the religion of the empire around the figure of the emperor. Hekster, however, is quick to point out that local identity rarely disappeared and local law and custom often supplemented official Roman statute.

Chapter 4, "Development and Perception of Emperorship," argues that because there were so many emperors, who often ruled very briefly, from 193-284, it became difficult for the emperor to present himself as the center of society. This point is complicated by the fact that making the emperor the focal point was instrumental in keeping the empire together. The third century also witnessed an emphasis on becoming emperor through the military, though the real change was the inability of most emperors to form a dynasty. Military virtues were expressed in the imperial coinage and imagery from the same period, and the discussion of the self-presentation of the emperor leads to an analysis of his reception in the empire. The third century saw an emperor who had to be available to his subjects and who therefore spent less time at Rome. Cities still acclaimed the emperor, but had to be careful not to do so too quickly for fear of supporting an emperor who would be quickly overthrown by a foe, potentially plunging the city into disgrace. Cities' lasting desire to be named neokoros shows that they were still paying attention to the emperor. The final portion of this chapter addresses worship of the emperor. Asserting the divine aspects of being emperor remained one way for emperors to exert control, but this was complicated in the third century by the fact that emperors no longer received their own state temples; and, by the time of Maximinus, Herodian suggests that divi had lost status.

The main focus of Chapter 5 is the persecution of Christians, with a final brief section discussing the continuity of religion during the period. Martyrdom developed in the third century, as persecutions became organized and Christianity became a problem for Rome, since it forbade sacrifice to the gods. Hekster goes on to assess the measures taken by Decius and Valerian. The final section addresses "Continuity and Change in third-century religion"; it notes the rapid expansion of Christianity in the third century, along with the rise of Manichaeism and oriental cults. Finally, Hekster recognizes the continuity of traditional worship, as stressed by documents such as the Feriale Duranum.

The Conclusion has two sections. "Fragmentation and unification from 193 to 284" observes that never before were there so many emperors and usurpers in so little time, and never before had portions of the empire seceded. Religious fragmentation occurred, and outsiders gained prominence. On the other hand, unification can be seen in the fact that the emperor became more important, the sense of Romanness increased, Roman law became universal, and possibly the first steps toward a unified Roman religion were taken. The second section asks, "A third century crisis?" Here Hekster reviews modern scholarship and points out that while the third century used to be seen as a time of crisis, it is now more commonly viewed as a period of change and transformation. Some areas saw very little change, the dominant troubles had their origin in earlier ages, and Romanness did not die out in the third century, but survived well into the fourth.

Part II ("Documents") contains sources in translation (literary, epigraphic, papyrological), as well as images of coins, statues, and relief sculptures. This section shows how varied the sources for this period are and provides a good overview for the student. Readers should be advised that not all sources are included and that conflicting accounts of the same issues are seldom incorporated. Some areas could be improved here. References in Part I read, e.g. "II 16 13.7844," without a page number, and it can often be cumbersome to locate the primary source. Literary sources are often excerpted, but it is not clear when the translator is omitting large portions of the text. Inscriptions and coins do not always have a reference to where they can be found outside of this volume. Finally, the translator does not indicate the original language of the text. Despite these shortcomings, this final section is useful in that it pulls together, in translation, a wide variety of primary sources, and it should prove valuable for students and instructors.

The volume concludes with sections on "Further Reading" (very helpful in letting readers know what primary texts have not been included in Part II and in recommending modern scholarship), "Essay Questions" (helpful to student and instructor alike), and "Internet Resources."

Despite being forced to treat very large topics within this brief period of time, Hekster provides a fine overview of the problems and issues of the third century. The chronological segmentation of the Roman empire, however, raises several questions, the most obvious of which is why the years AD 193-284 should be considered a unit at all, and Hekster expresses discomfort with this division (e.g. "nor should any period really be looked at in isolation," p. 86). Numerous issues and problems of the third century had precedents in previous periods, and it is rightly pointed out that the great amount of continuity within the period of the Roman empire extended across several centuries. In all, however, this book, with its presentation of current views on important issues, selection of primary texts, and extensive citation of up-to-date scholarship, provides a good introduction to the third century.

Notes:

1. Potter, D.S. The Roman Empire at Bay, AD 180-395. Routledge 2004. (read complete article)

2009.03.36

Luigi Battezzato, Linguistica e retorica della tragedia greca. Sussidi Eruditi 78. Roma: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2008. Pp. xvi, 184. ISBN 9788884985071. €25.00 (pb).
Reviewed by Martin Cropp, University of Calgary (mcropp@ucalgary.ca)

Table of Contents

Luigi Battezzato's book contains five studies of some particular features of tragic style, three of which were first published between 2000 and 2003,¹ while the first and third are new. What ties them together is Battezzato's interest in applying recent linguistic theory, especially in the areas of syntax and pragmatics, to the features he discusses, and in tracing their development from the language of early Greek poetry to the language of tragedy.

A brief essay on 'Oedipus and Homer' starts by noting the association in early Greek culture between poetic and oracular language, and the uses (and abuses) of both in politics. In Sophocles' play Oedipus' misinterpretations of oracular language are in part prompted by traditional poetic devices. He treats the oracle's warning that he would murder 'the father who begot me' (OT 793) as a mere poetic pleonasm, and the point is underlined when he refers to 'Polybus who raised and begot me' (OT 827) as if the traditional pleonasm could be taken for granted. Battezzato adds that Oedipus' casual remark that he has not caused Polybus' death 'unless he wasted away through longing for me' (OT 969-70) recalls the wordings in which both Anticlea and Penelope describe their longing for Odysseus (Odyssey 11.202, 18.203-4, 19.136), so that epic phrasing is here linked to his ignorance of the identity of his own mother and wife.

The hysteron proteron phrasing of OT 827 is one amongst many examples surveyed in Battezzato's second chapter, which offers both a strict definition and a linguistic explanation of this 'figure'. On Battezzato's definition (p. 21) a hysteron proteron arrangement 'puts on the same level, by means of a coordinating conjunction, two verbs (or two nouns) in an order inverted with respect to the order of the chronological sequence of events (or of the sequence implied in two nouns), leaving the chronological sequence to be understood from the semantic relationship between the inverted verbs (or nouns), without giving signals by means of verb-tenses or temporal adverbs'. Battezzato argues that the 'figure' originated naturally in the tendency of Homeric Greek to use coordination rather than subordination in expressing causes or circumstances, or with concessive effect. Sentences such as 'Allow me to kill the man and to come within spear-cast of him' (Iliad 5.118), where the second infinitive phrase expresses a precondition for the focal action expressed by the first, were therefore not unusual. Only later did such phrasing come to be seen as artificial and to be used as a figure by poets recalling Homeric style. Battezzato discusses some well-known Sophoclean and Virgilian examples from this point of view, and adds appendices illustrating the relevant ancient technical terminology, some contrasting modern explanations, and an array of examples from Homer and the tragedians.

The more substantial of the two new essays (Ch. 3) surveys the tradition of 'rhetorical superlatives' (i.e., attributions of primacy, supremacy, or authority) used in declarations of value or importance. Statements such as 'Water is best' or 'Eros rules over all the gods' were rhetorical exaggerations, often with a gnomic character which is reflected in priamels, ainigmata and the like. Their implications were limited by context and convention, but contradictions could easily arise if they were taken literally or were actually used categorically. In a culture which attributed powers to many gods and tended to deify abstractions as well, these contradictions were likely to generate theological problems, and the results emerge in the questionings of Xenophanes and later thinkers. Battezzato's focus is Euripides' Hecuba 798ff. where (he argues) Hecuba's assertions about nomos ('which rules over the gods') and peitho ('sole tyrannos for men') are rhetorical superlatives reinforcing her appeal to divine justice (799-805) and her resort to persuasion once that appeal has failed, although her gesture towards the definition of nomos as convention (800-1) hints at a tension between this traditional rhetorical mode and the implications of sophistic thought.

A study of interrogative phrasing in Euripides (Ch. 4) considers the text of Andromeda F 125, where Battezzato proposes to read παρθένου δ'εικὼ τίνα 'and what image of a maiden . . .' rather than the transmitted παρθένου δ'εικώ τινα 'and some image of a maiden . . .' which many editors have accepted (Rutherford and Housman preferred the interrogative, and it has been adopted by several editors of Andromeda since Battezzato's initial publication). Battezzato illustrates the inversion of the pronoun-noun order normally used in interrogative phrases and explains it in pragmatic terms (the promotion of the noun gives prominence to a new topic or, as here, sub-topic). He also shows incidentally that αυτομόρφων in line 3 may well mean 'true to her very form'.

Lastly, Battezzato's study of interlinear hiatus in tragic trimeters (Ch. 5) makes important advances on the discussion of this topic by T. C. W. Stinton in 1977 (following those of E. Harrison and C. J. Herington). Battezzato provides a modified definition and classification of enjambement, making an important distinction between stronger types (such as those involving prepositives at line-end) and less strong types (such as those involving separation of subject and verb). He also offers a more accurate quantification of the data and a linguistic explanation. Battezzato broadly confirms his predecessors in finding that enjambement-with-hiatus is generally more frequent in Aeschylus than in Sophocles and Euripides, though the frequencies increase somewhat in the later plays of these two (only Euripides' Helen exceeds Aeschylean rates, and of the rest only his Electra and Iphigenia in Tauris approach them). But it also emerges that in the stronger types of enjambement hiatus is equally rare throughout. Battezzato explains these phenomena as a result of changing 'phonostyles' in tragedy. For Aeschylus a slower and more formal verse-delivery would have made hiatus between enjambed lines less objectionable than in the increasingly fluent phonostyles of his successors. Sophocles, using enjambement very freely, was correspondingly sensitive to hiatus, while Euripides became more tolerant of it to the extent that he moved towards informal diction and the norms of Comedy. To these general findings Battezzato adds comments on some special cases (Prometheus Vinctus, Trachiniae, Cyclops, Rhesus), on short final syllables in lines enjambed without hiatus, and on the accentuation of oxytone words at the end of enjambed lines.

One could (naturally) debate a few marginal points of classification, but these studies are generally persuasive and enlightening, based as they are on a thorough knowledge of the scholarship in this area and of current trends in linguistics. It is good to have them in book form, which should give them a higher profile. The book itself is handsomely produced and reasonably priced. I noticed a dozen minor errors but only one that could be seriously misleading: in Table 5 (p. 136) the figure in the right-hand column for Orestes should be 8%, not 18%. On p. 69, line 14 the words 'Il famoso passo delle Nuvole di Aristofane' should be deleted. On pp. 73-4 much of the paragraph repeats what has been said on pp. 68-9. And on p. 120, in the second paragraph of section 7.1, the references should (I think) be to category E and p. 136, Table 5.

Notes:

1. Ch. 2 in G. Avezzù (ed.), Il dramma sofocleo. Testo, lingua, interpretazione (Stuttgart-Weimar, 2003), 17-48); Ch. 4 in MD 44 (2000), 141-73; Ch. 5 in Seminari Romani 4.1 (2001), 1-38. (read complete article)

2009.03.35

Othmar Jaeggi, Die griechischen Porträts. Antike Repräsentation - Moderne Projektion. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 2008. Pp. 240. ISBN 9783496013921. €39.00.
Reviewed by Eric M. Moormann, Radboud Universiteit Nijmegen (The Netherlands), (e.moormann@let.ru.nl)

On the cover of this interesting book, an antique portrait of Plato is placed next to a reconstruction in flesh and blood. This person has dark-blond hair, with some gray in it, and a straight beard. The broad mouth has red lips and the eyes have blue irises. The couple of images illustrate the subtitle of the book. One may question, however, whether the man in the right image really could represent Plato: he rather looks like a northerner, more specifically like a Mitteleuropäer. Was Plato a German?

This book is the result of a 2005-2006 Habilitationsschrift in Freiburg im Breisgau (Germany), edited in a nice volume. The study has been written in conjunction with an upcoming study on ancient portraits in a private collection at Havana, a town many readers would not expect to be so rich in antiquities! The question, 'what is a Greek portrait?', put in chapter 1, cannot be answered easily, since we have neither the ancient sitters nor their opinions about the bronze and marble faces made of them. Antique portraits contain elements of genre (prince, philosopher, citizen), realism vs. idealism and the like, which are gathered in a system of tokens. For German readers, there is a distinction between Bild (figural representation) and Bildnis (idem, but of specific person). Individuality is lacking in some forms of personal representation like funeral reliefs, where the message must be that of a good citizen, soldier or the like. At the same time, I would add, our photographic 'exactness', as we all know, is also biased by factors of time, space and the eyes of photographer and beholder.

On the basis of this sketch of general preliminary problems, Jaeggi develops some specific paths of research in the following eight chapters. In chapter 2 the history of study on portraiture is tackled. It is striking how many Germans and how few students from other countries have been involved in the discussion of Greek portraits. From the sketched discussion two 'positions' are either the outcome: (1) ancient portraits are an interplay between a realistic rendering of a person and abstract additions underlining specific qualities or (2) they form sets of iconographic tokens that define a person in his or her function (politician, military man) or qualities (wise or brave man/woman In chapter 3 Jaeggi places himself within this tradition on the basis of ancient philosophical texts (mainly Plato and Aristotle), arguing that a portrait cannot express the sitter's psyche. Looking for character in representations of sitters, consequently, is a modern concept, influenced by psychology and even Christian theology (man as effigies of God). Another bias is the Winckelmannian concept of 'idealism' still influencing modern discussion of portraits. Some scholars strongly adhere to this idea of 'beautiful realism', to paraphrase an expression of Bernhard Andreae (p. 49). Jaeggi's conclusion is that (possibly) ideal and beautiful traits are intermingled with other elements. As an example, he analyses the well-known portraits of Themistocles and Pericles, transmitted in various Roman copies: despite individual details they display iconographic stereotypes of military leaders. The boxer's ear of the Ostia Themistocles (fig. 8) is even defined as a failure of the sculptor, with which Jaeggi simplifies the issue and puts a lot of scholarly reasoning into the garbage bin (p. 58).

Chapter 4 explains Jaeggi's definition of a portrait as a means of communicating a person's physical presence, including representation and/or politics, as demanded by the commissioner. Although he does not say so explicitly, the latter is not necessarily the sitter him- or herself. When a portrait is a concoction of data, we must try to unpeel the features and to define the semantic codes. In the following three chapters, he tries to illustrate his thesis. Chapter 5 discusses portraits of princes and the esthetics of youth, chapter 6 circles around figures of thinkers and chapter 7 discusses women. Chapter 5 tackles the problem we saw in an immediate way: the 'ideal' form of Polyclitus' Doryphoros and its variants became a fixed element in many representations of rulers. As to the heads, short curly hair, deep-set eyes, a broad chin and a small mouth with thick lips can be observed in both mythical and historical figures. The comparison of a set of profiles in fig. 33 illustrates the similarity of many rulers' portraits. Other factors for recognizing specific dynasts are the wish to resemble earlier rulers and/or gods. In sum, princes are portrayed with a series of smaller and larger conventions in portraiture. In many cases the individuality of the portrait would be established by an inscription, now normally missing, as well as by the original location of the sculpture.¹

Chapter 6 focuses on the genre of Philosophenporträts, portraits of persons who wanted to be associated with learnedness and intellectual skills. Jaeggi demonstrates very clearly how this group, again, shows repeating characteristics that can also be seen in heads of other persons (Heracles, fig. 38) and genre figures like fishermen (the famous so-called Seneca). Their individuality is less clear, when you look at them from this point of view. When they are represented as philosophers or literary authors, they show their pride and mature individuality contrasted with the young heroic image of the rulers of chapter 5.

The variation in male portraiture is much greater than in female portraits that are highlighted in chapter 7. Jaeggi observes general characteristics like stance, dress, age, shape of head and facial details that, like in the categories discussed previously produce portraits that in our eyes lack really personal traits.² The messages these women (or their commissioners) wanted to express were gathered in these details. They had to be good wives (most portraits indeed show mature women), good citizens and examples of virtue. The iconography of citizens and princesses does not differ very much, apparently since the messages they transmit are similar. As in the case of their male counterparts, princesses are seldom individually recognizable. The suggestion of identifying Cleopatra VII with the Esquiline Venus (pp. 128-130) is an example of asking too much and of the wish to interpret such a presumably peculiar figure as the portrait of a peculiar personality. Attributes can define statuses of women; nudity, an attribute of Aphrodite, pops up much more rarely than in the case of men.

Chapter 8 concentrates on the development of style in Greek and Hellenistic portraits. It is common knowledge that the chronology of Hellenistic sculpture is imprecise because there are few securely dated monuments. As we have seen, the method followed by Jaeggi makes clear that portraits are defined by signs and that these signs are not connected with specific moments. The estheticism asked for in connection with the personality depicted determines the use of features that were previously associated with chronology and fashion. Therefore, these portraits are often of little help in establishing chronology. Even coinage does not give sound clues for the interpretation and dating of portrait sculpture. Nevertheless, Jaeggi offers a wide time frame (pp. 147-150) in which esthetics are the guiding lines. In his last chapter (9) he concludes that portrayal in the sense we are used to is more or less absent in the Classical and Hellenistic world: 'portraits' express the qualities of a person rather than his physical aspects. In that sense they strongly differ from Roman portraits, even the idealized imperial heads. Jaeggi's study is highly provocative and will be of great importance in future studies on portraits and other sculpted objects, surely more for its prudence in assuming rules than in the discussion of single pieces. His work is full of theoretical approaches that may discourage the often too confident scholars who want to see an antique celebrity in each beautiful head.

Notes:

1. A similar very cautious strategy of recognising individual Hellenistic rulers with great care, viz. those from Pergamon, can be observed in H.U. Gans, Attalidische Herrscherbildnisse. Studien zur hellenistischen Porträtplastik Pergamons, Wiesbaden 2006. This is in contrast with the positivistic studies of F. Queyrel and others mentioned with critical notes by Jaeggi n pp. 80-81.

2. Two very popular types--the Large and the Small Herculanean Women--have recently been discussed: J. Daehner (ed.), The Herculaneum Women. History, Context, Identities, Los Angeles 2007. See A. Allroggen-Bedel, BMCR 2008.09.20. (read complete article)

2009.03.34

Markus Mülke, Der Autor und sein Text. Die Verfälschung des Originals im Urteil antiker Autoren. Untersuchungen zur antiken Literatur und Geschichte Bd. 93. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2007. Pp. 419. ISBN 9783110202502. $157.00.
Reviewed by Thomas J. Kraus, Hilpoltstein (t.j.kraus@web.de)

The book under review is Markus Mülke's (hereafter M.) slightly revised Ph.D thesis, which he submitted in the summer of 2007 at the department of history and philosophy of the 'Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster' and which he accomplished under the auspices of Professors Rainer Henke and, above all, Christian Gnilka. The original title (Falsare haec et corrumpere non timuerunt. Antike Autoren über die Verfälschung literarischer Werke) was undoubtedly simplified in order to attract the attention of non-specialists. M. focuses on the dangers of corruption in texts during their transmission from generation to generation, i.e., on modifications made without and against an author's will. Such dangers also arose from the process of translating a text into another language. Of course, authors themselves were often eager to keep their texts in their original form and consequently despised any attempt to distort their literary products. Frequently they regarded these attempts as attacks on the integrity of their texts and on their own status as authors. So, it is M.'s main concern to determine the (most common) practices of deformation, misrepresentation, and falsification that led to textual corruption. In order to achieve this aim M. concentrates on the testimony of the authors concerned and sets a fixed time frame for the texts and authors he addresses (from Early Greece to the Middle Ages).

The first chapter (on the limited means available for authors to protect their texts; 11-82) starts with an introduction into the conditions under which ancient authors produced their works. In antiquity, authors had little influence on the distribution and the integrity of their texts. Authorship was attributed to the explicitly named author of a text. Nonetheless, the text itself was open to modification, falsification, and corruption, and the author could not do much to prevent it. M. is right to refer to the particularities of ancient book production, and especially to the uniqueness of the copying process. A copyist might have sensed the singularity of the copy produced and thus have felt the freedom, sometimes even the right, to change a 'Vorlage' because of the special responsibility he had for the unique copy he produced (13).

Furthermore, there is another side of the coin. A revised edition could also serve as a means to get rid of corrupt passages in existing versions of a text, a process welcomed by authors themselves. Sometimes authors did not have the chance of integrating information received after the completion of their work and so favored new editions of their own texts (cf. Polybius 16.20). Besides, the collection of the works of a specific author served to guarantee a degree of authenticity and originality and to preserve the works. M. deals with several examples (the New Testament Book of Revelation; Irenaeus of Lyon; Artemidor of Daldis; Jerome; Rufinus; De induratione cordis Pharaonis; Synesius of Cyrene; Cassius Felix; Gregor of Tours; Alcuin), from which he draws some significant conclusions: the authors of the passages leave no doubt that for them deliberate falsifications of texts are detestable whereas interpolations might be acceptable. Falsifications started immediately after the composed text was given away. The range of falsifications differs from one case to another. There are large interpolations and deletions but also intense ideological falsifications (for instance, by heretic groups). The examples even demonstrate a profound knowledge and use of termini technici among authors (M. focuses on addenda, deletions, and changes by substitution). These and additional reflections are sound and clearly phrased. Finally, M. reflects on method and modern approaches to the issue of falsification and authenticity of (ancient) texts. M. recommends adherence to the individual quality of language, style and composition as well as to the individual consistent content of texts as decisive criteria without which the discussion of authenticity would be tentative and speculative. Again M. is right in referring to the present: just as today pirate copies are unacceptable violations of copyright (and cannot be avoided by copy protection or similar means), ancient authors regarded any modification of their work as unfair and unjust, whether it was malicious or well intentioned.

The second chapter concerns the status of texts--whether they were treated as "open literature and works in progress" and how their authors regarded them (83-94). The chapter is strikingly short, so that there is an obvious unbalance with the much longer chapters of the book. Although sometimes texts were seen as "open" and "in progress" even after their ἔκδοσις, authors even asked their first critics in letters about their opinion, their points of criticism, and occasionally their contribution to improve the work (87). Authors, however, did not see their texts as "open" even when, after the ἔκδοσις, a text was published (and distributed).

Chapter three deals with falsifying epitomai and florilegia (95-108). Of course, as M. states, they cannot all be judged by the same criteria, because they are individual in length and quality, to mention only two categories, . Even ancient authors knew about the dangers resulting from the rivalry between attractive epitomai and florilegia and the original composition for their own works: the first two might even have displaced the last. Nonetheless, authors accepted those short versions of their works that resulted from the intention to provide readers/listeners with a swift and precise overview and/or summary (108).

In chapter four (109-201), M. tackles a significant problem: translations and the role of translators. The title of the chapter ('the translator as falsifier or new author') seems to ignore the fact that many translators served as interpreters of the master copy they translated. Of course, the different syntagmata and paradigmata of languages even force translators to search for adequate means of transporting the sense and message of the original text into the target language. M. writes about the 'appreciation of literal translations', which have always had their place next to free (literary) translations, and discusses the well known example of Jerome's Bible translation. In addition, M. deals with falsifications occurring before the translation process itself, refers to translators who might be regarded as 'new authors' (e.g., the contemporary discussion about Jerome and Rufinus) and the problem of (new) titles of translations. Here, the translation (process) of the Greek Septuagint could have provided a very illustrative example, although testimonia about translation practices and the authenticity of the original are few. Above all, the Book of Psalms shows a multitude of strategies: translators tried to be literal, to interpret, to modify or correct (according to their views), or almost to write anew what they had found in Hebrew.

Chapter five is dedicated to comprehensive revisions of complete works (202-260). M. differentiates between the revisions made by the authors themselves and posthumous editions of previously unpublished texts on the one hand and unauthorized falsifications on the other. The sample cases again illustrate very well the various ways of falsifying a given text (corpus). M. refers to critical editions of scholarly works, usually revealed by late-antique subscriptiones: Hippocrates, Aristotle, Theophrast, Zenon, oracles (Porphyry), and others.

The final chapter is short and readers might be disappointed with it: after 260 pages only 5 pages for conclusions and the prospects for future research? But for those who have read the book carefully (and enjoyed doing so) and may have devoured and utilized the pack of precise details and cautious conclusions, a special summary and conclusion section would be superfluous. In addition, M. provides his readers with specific primary sources accompanied by critical remarks in an individual addendum for every chapter (266-288) so that the book itself can serve as a reference tool for first-hand testimony about the authors' attitudes towards their texts and potential falsifications. This impression is underlined by the comprehensive bibliography (295-374) and the exact and helpful indices (references to texts and authors and to names and subjects; 397-419). Another service M. offers to his readers is that he translates some selected texts into German (289-294).

M. does an admirable job by serving both purposes, remaining concise and methodologically accurate on the one hand and writing in a very readable and interesting style on the other. Consequently, for the scholar, the advanced student, and the learned non-specialist alike it is a pleasure to read the book as a whole (as usual, well produced and supplied with a high quality binding by Walter de Gruyter publishers); and it is to be hoped that what M. did--to let the authors themselves 'talk' about their texts and modifications of them--will serve as a model for others, too, so that primary sources will be perceived in their contexts and estimated for what they really are: invaluable testimonies of and indispensable witnesses to times long gone. (read complete article)

2009.03.33

Yves Duhoux, Anna Morpurgo Davies (edd.), A Companion to Linear B: Mycenaean Greek Texts and Their World, Volume 1. Bibliothèque des Cahiers de l'Institut de linguistique de Louvain. Antiquité 120. Louvain-la-Neuve; Dudley, MA: Peeters, 2008. Pp. x, 448. ISBN 9789042918481. €55.00 (pb). Reviewed by Michael F. Lane, University of Maryland, Baltimore County (mflane@umbc.edu)

Overview

A Companion to Linear B (hereafter Companion) is, according to the foreword by the editors Morpurgo Davies and Duhoux (hereafter AMD and YD) "an up-to-date book which would inform both specialists and non-specialists (including graduate and undergraduate students who take their first course in Linear B) about the whole range of Mycenaean studies..." They add, "the information provided must be reliable and have sufficient authority to be trusted" (p. ix). They also mean for it to be a successor to the volume Linear B: A 1984 Survey, which they also edited (Morpurgo-Davies and Duhoux 1985). The present volume is supposed to be the first of two which, judging from the subtitle, put Linear B texts in their linguistic, socioeconomic, and archaeological contexts.

The Companion contains, in serial order, chapters on the decipherment of Linear B (Maurice Pope), conventions and reference works for the study of Linear B (Ruth Palmer), the chronology of Linear B archives so far discovered (Jan Driessen), the "historical" context of the Linear B texts (Pia De Fidio), the social and political structures in which the archives were embedded (Cynthia Shelmerdine), the palatial economy (John Killen), technologies described in the Linear B texts (Alberto Bernabé and Eugenio Luján), vessels inscribed with Linear B (Peter van Alfen), and, lastly, an "anthology" (or chrestomathy) of Linear B texts (YD). YD has let it be known (pers. comm.) that the second volume will contain the following chapters: Writing (J.L. Melena); Scribes, scribal hands and palaeography (T.G. Palaima); Greek and the Linear B script (R. Viredaz); Language (AMD); Onomastics (J.-L. García Ramón); The geography of the Mycenaean kingdoms (D.J. Bennet); Religion (S. Hiller); Mycenaean and Homeric language (C.J. Ruijgh, dec.); Mycenaean and the world of Homer (D.J. Bennet); Interpreting the Linear B records: some guidelines (YD). It is due to be published in late 2009.

The Companion is, in the final analysis, a commendable book, especially as it is more comprehensive than Linear B: A 1984 Survey. However, it suffers from several editorial problems that thwart the editors' express purposes. Some of the contributions flatly contradict each other at several levels, from the transcription of Linear B into Mycenaean Greek, to the linguistic interpretation of these transcriptions and the social relationships expressed or implied in the texts. Some conflicting interpretations arise because the Continental European contributors tend to draw from Continental sources, while Anglophone contributors tend to prefer their own. Adding to problems of consistency is the fact that the first volume of the Companion was almost a decade in the making. Five of its nine chapters were first submitted for publication in 2001, and three in 2002, as the editors remark in footnotes. YD and AMD have added a longer endnote to Driessen's article (p. 77), referring to Linear B texts lately discovered.

Review Chapter by Chapter (N.b.: In the transcriptions that follow, the circumflex above a Latin letter in transcription indicates a Mycenaean long vowel only, not περισπωμένη accent.)

Perhaps because POPE is least tightly bound to Linear B studies, his chapter on the decipherment is one of the soundest in the Companion. It is an excellent summary of Michael Ventris's progress and achievement, one of the best to be found outside of Chadwick's The Decipherment of Linear B (1992 [1967]) and Ventris and Chadwick's Documents in Mycenaean Greek (1973). Indeed, it contains further historical details, some of which have relatively recently come to light, and it pays due respect to Alice Kober and Emmett Bennett for their crucial work. The chapter is copiously illustrated, including three stages of the famous "syllabic grid," reproduced from Ventris's own Work Notes (1988).

PALMER's contribution is a careful and thorough introduction to pertinent literature and handbooks, critically annotated, as well as to the various Linear B symbols, standards of transliterating and transcribing these, and the relevant epigraphical conventions (the last two treatments constituting the "Wingspread Conventions"). It should be noted that her presentation of the epigraphical conventions does not anticipate the notation of palimpsests and direction of rotation from recto to verso sides employed in the forthcoming (but long-awaited) Palace of Nestor at Pylos in Western Messenia IV (PoN IV). This chapter is well illustrated with line drawings of Linear B texts of different kinds, and grids displaying Linear B syllabograms, logograms, weight and measure symbols, and numerals. I find it disconcerting that Palmer's recommended bibliography does not match the "General bibliography" at the end of the Companion. For example, the "Studies Bartonek" festschrift (Bartonek 1991) does not appear in the latter, perhaps because it is too short (165 pages) and non-specific (Palaeograeca et mycenaea), whereas the late Cornelis Ruijgh's Études sur la grammaire et le vocabulaire du mycénien (1967) seems to get short shrift (p. 48), although I think it a helpful guide, particularly to Mycenaean derivational morphology (relevant below).

Palmer asserts her doubts about the traditional interpretation of symbols *120 and *121 (p. 33). She has argued elsewhere that the traditional readings should be switched (see Palmer 1992, 2008), with *120 (also denoted GRA) representing "barley" (not "wheat") and *121 (also denoted HORD) representing "wheat" (not "barley"). It is worth noting her assertion, because she is alone in the Companion in suggesting that the readings should be so reversed, and because her arguments have been challenged on agronomic and contextual grounds (see Halstead 1995; Killen 2004).

DRIESSEN's chapter includes a revision of his own dating of the Room of the Chariot Tablets (RCT) at Knossos (see Driessen 1988, 1990: esp. 107-8; but Driessen 2000). Not only has he adopted Warren and Hankey's (1989) "low chronology" for the Late Bronze Age Aegean, but he also dates the RCT to the Late Minoan IIIA1 period (1390-1370 BCE in his framework), rather than to the LMII (1425-1390 BCE). I will not dispute his revision, because, unlike Driessen, I am no expert in the stratigraphy of Knossos. The chronology chosen is nevertheless noteworthy because some contributors to the Companion adopt the "high chronology," whereby the LMII begins around 1490 BCE (or they have split the difference between the chronologies), while others adhere to Driessen's earlier dates. This discrepancy is perhaps a side effect of the time taken to publish the volume. Nonetheless, Driessen's chapter presents a very handy reference to the different dates of the discovered Linear B archives.

DE FIDIO's "Mycenaean history" is a fairly conventional narrative of the Bronze Age Aegean. It duly mentions the region's semi-periphery ("marginal") status with respect to the empires of the Ancient Near East (pp. 81-2), and discusses especially Hittite-Mycenaean relations evident in the score or so of Hittite letters referring to Ahhiyawa (pp. 96-102). The narrative is often framed in economic and sometimes social evolutionary terms ("recession and stagnation," p. 96; "mentality already concerned with the marks of ownership," p. 90). De Fidio is in her element when discussing the Palatial Period, Late Helladic IIIA-B (pp. 91-6, adopting a "middle chronology" in contrast with Driessen). She plays confidently here, noting, inter alia, fiscal evidence of shortfalls in agricultural and industrial production at the time of the destruction of the palace at Pylos (p. 104; see De Fidio 1987). The narrative ends (pp. 103-5) with the usual suspects: economic collapse, natural disasters (though significant "climate change" is unlikely), and mysterious marauding "Sea Peoples."

De Fidio's penchant for sources from her own continent shows clearly, some references being conspicuously absent, especially to an American scholar's eye. Suffice it to refer the reader to the very useful new Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age, edited by Cynthia Shelmerdine (2008).

SHELMERDINE's chapter on "Mycenaean society" is carefully laid out, including select bibliographies for each of its sections, and handsome, up-to-date maps and plans embedded in the main text. Shelmerdine reviews a wide range of archaeological -- including textual -- evidence, and arrives at some sound, if not fresh, conclusions. For example, she, like Killen in the Companion, uses "redistribution" (p. 144) appropriately for the majority of transactions directly recorded in the Linear B archives. It is also possible that the archival system was less centralized than has generally been thought. Hence I agree with Shelmerdine that a Mycenaean site in an area of great agricultural potential, like the stronghold of Gla (p. 115), is likely to have been a place for keeping landholding texts (though they may not be preserved). She also astutely notes, as others have, that the scribes were probably not akin to an anonymous typing pool for the palace but rather were part of the "administrative elite" (p. 144; which, I might add, may explain the absence of a specific word for "scribe" in a considerable vocabulary of titles). Similarly, she notes (p. 117), as she has before (see Shelmerdine 2007), the paucity of references to the wanaks (= ἄναξ) "king," let alone to his activities, in any Mycenaean archives. She nevertheless proceeds to detail evidence of the "palaces" as royal residences, rather than pursuing the archaeological implications of her observations about the roles of the "scribes" and their apparent social distance from the wanaks.

Several of Shelmerdine's interpretations of particular Linear B words and texts are problematic or idiosyncratic: e.g. ki-ti-ta kti(s)tâs "landholder" (rather than "cultivator," so too Killen p. 171; cf. pu₂-te-re ki-ti-je-si *p^hûtêres ktiensi "planters are cultivating," PY Na 520); and ki-ti-me-na ktimenâ "private" versus ke-ke-menâ "common" (of land; not generally accepted; see Aura Jorro 1999: 337-9, 366-7); and her gloss on the famous Pylos Eb 297 / Ep 704.5-6 landholding "dispute." I concentrate here on her treatment of proper names, because I believe it betrays a surprisingly relaxed attitude toward the conventions of word formation in Mycenaean Greek, an understanding of which is critical to accurate translation.

It has long been noticed that some of the names of the e-qe-ta hek^wetai "Followers" in the Pylos "coastguard" set (An 519, 654, 656, 657, 661) are qualified with "patronymics" (names in -iyos), and that some of these two-part names recur in the Pylos "Aq diptych" (Aq 64, 218). This is hardly a coincidence. Shelmerdine joins L. Palmer (1963: 152) and Ventris and Chadwick (1973: 429) when she observes that these hek^wetai are "cited with patronymics, itself a sign of elite status," although she admits that "another man" recorded in the Aq diptych "called son of Eteoklês is not a Follower" (p. 131). Granted that several persons named (without patronymics) in the Aq texts are assigned titles (i-je-re-u hiereus, ko-re-te ?korestêr, mo-ro-qa morok^wans vel sim.), the question remains as to why the scribes employed patronymics where they did -- especially if they were part of the administrative elite writing for its own purposes, not ours. A more systematic effort is required if we are to identify named persons with positions in a network of social relations, as opposed to a selective one which just identifies names with persons.. For example, Nakassis (2008) and I (2004) have observed separately that the collocation of the some of the same names in the coastguard and Aq texts in Pylian bronze allocation texts (Jn 725 and 750) -- without patronymics -- is statistically very unlikely to be a coincidence. The scribes therefore probably used forms like e-te-wo-ke-re-we-i-jo Etewoklewêhios in the former for specific reasons, much as they used titles in them.

KILLEN's chapter on the "Mycenaean economy" is an update of his still important article in Linear B: A 1984 Survey. That so little has changed in over 20 years is, in fact, testament to how sound an example of scholarship the original version was. In the latest version, Killen re-emphasizes the main role of the Mycenaean "palaces" as "redistributive centers," which he compares (perhaps with a little cultural historical presumption) with the "palace/temple" economies of the Ancient Near East. He likewise further underscores the similarities in the evidence of mechanisms of administration at the separate palaces, defending his conclusions against a current trend toward finding and emphasizing differences among them (e.g. Galaty and Parkinson 2007).

Killen admits that De Fidio's (1977) analysis of the Er-Es-Un 718 series proves that landholding records were used to calculate taxes in kind precisely, this probably being true of all the Pylos E- series (p. 163). (To this extent, the landholding texts constitute a "cadastre," his definition notwithstanding.) He furthermore observes that it is reasonable to suppose that all Pylos E- records (and probably similar records at Knossos), including those of pa-ki-ja-na / -ne, concern places close to Pylos, perhaps in the same administrative district (pp. 164-5). In contrast, records of assessments of flax (N- series) and miscellaneous tribute (M- series) clearly include more distant places. Therefore, he suggests the method of taxation of agricultural land near Pylos (or other palace centers) is different from that of places recorded in the M- and N- series. With respect to Pylos, he notes that individual localities' contributions of flax, recorded in the Na texts, are often multiples of 10 units, 30 being particularly common. The round numbers suggest to him that these assessments are roughly calculated, in contradistinction to those made from the E- series (p. 165).

On the contrary, the multiples of 10 recorded may be a measure of the precision of computation. The tribute calculated in the Es tablets, concerning a single locality (or district), adds up to multiples of GRA 10 (as product), and are derived from area GRA 30 (as seed-corn). Likewise, all areas of land under cultivation recorded in Pylos Eq 213 are even amounts of major seed-corn unit GRA (multiples of 10 three of five times), and land is measured in multiples of division DA 10 in Pylos An 830. Hence it seems to me that if the palace knew what precisely measured part of any locality under its political control was subject to taxation (e.g. GRA 30, DA 50), then taxes within each district could be deduced as easily manageable even numbers and collected accordingly, without unreasonable logistical trouble

BERNABÉ and LUJÁN's discussion of "Mycenaean technology" deliberately focuses on direct Linear B evidence of moveable manufactures (except perhaps ships). It is particularly significant because it critically reviews alternatives to readings of texts concerning these, since some readings have become sedimented in the scholarly literature. For example, they revive Ruijgh's reading of we-je-ke-a₂ as *wei-enk^heha "turning on spear (type axles)" (of wheels; cited as Ruijgh 1967: 330, when the page number is in fact 380; cf. L.R. Palmer 1963: 462), rather than (eh)u-weikeha "in (good) shape" (= ἐπιεικής), which is difficult to reconcile with the spelling.

VAN ALFEN's contribution on the Linear B inscribed stirrup jars (ISJs) is a useful update to Hallager's and Haskell's work in the 1980s (e.g. Hallager 1987; Haskell 1984) on this rather neglected sub-discipline of Linear B studies, as well as an expansion on his own recent research (Van Alfen 1998). He makes an important point about the multivalency of both the vessels (including their inscriptions) and their contents. However, given that ISJs may have been restricted to inter-elite exchanges, I doubt that in Bronze Age contexts, even outside the Aegean, the Linear B inscriptions would often "simply have been seen as decoration" (p. 239). His suggestion, that ISJs emanate exclusively from Crete because of the "large and potentially confusing number of managers and collectors" there, is plausible (p. 239), but it probably does not do justice to the distinctions between types of "collectors" in the region that we are now beginning to discern. It may be a consequence of the eight years taken to publish Van Alfen's article that he does not mention the ISJ fragment from Gla in Boeotia, which appears to bear the abbreviation WA for wanaks or wanakteron; Driessen and Shelmerdine in do refer to this piece in their respective contributions to the Companion.

YD's "Mycenaean anthology" takes up nearly half of the Companion. It consists of a selection of Linear B texts from Knossos, Mycenae, Pylos, and Thebes, presented as line drawings (from various published sources), transliterations into Latin characters, transcriptions into Mycenaean Greek, translations into English, and commentary. The selection overlaps with those of Hooker's Linear B: An Introduction (1980) and the "Chrestomathy" in Bartonek's Handbuch des mykenischen Griechisch (2003: 510-32), but it is substantially different, particularly because of its treatment of tablets lately discovered at Thebes. It contains many astute and inventive new readings, as well as some innovative line numberings (e.g. PY Tn 316, p. 322 -- which, however, does not correspond to that in the forthcoming PoN IV). His introductory section (pp. 243-9) is the most accurate and precise part of the Companion as concerns Linear B writing and its transliteration and transcription. It is equally careful about Mycenaean syntax and reconstructed phonology. The only formal oddity in YD's chapter is his choice of transcribing the palatal glide with j. Although this conforms with the standard transliteration of the Linear B glide series, it looks strange in Anglophone linguistics, which expects y or i with a "sub-breve." Incidentally, YD evidently prefers Driessen's earlier dates for the RCT at Knossos (p. 276; see above).

Probably the most useful discussion in YD's chapter is on the meaning of symbols *120, *121, and *129 (cf. *69), with reference to Pylos tribute text Un 718 (pp. 346-347). He rightly points out that *129, transcribed conventionally as FAR, is frequently misconstrued as farina "flour," particularly because of its juxtaposition with me-re-u-ro *meleuron on Pylos Un 718. Rather, it is meant to stand for just that -- Latin far -- suggesting what has been ground, as distinct from GRAnum and HORDeum. YD suggests that *129, which resembles *69 ju, could be an old abbreviation for the name of a grain beginning in yu- (later zu-) -- alphabetic Greek ζειά being a likely cognate or descendant. Proto-Indo-European *yewo- is the stem of a number of very ancient words of grain, variously identified with barley, einkorn wheat, or emmer wheat (Hittite ewan, Sanskrit / Avestan yáva-, Greek ζειά). He muddles the discussion somewhat by adducing R. Palmer's maverick interpretation of *120 as "barley" and *121 as some kind of "wheat" (see above) and Halstead's (1995) observations of evidence of pulses. I am content to think that *120 represents emmer (Triticum dicoccum), the wheat most often found on Greek Bronze Age sites (Halstead 1995), *121 some variety of barley, and *129 einkorn (T. monococcum). This fits the Theophrastian description of ζειά, without fear of contradicting Homer's usage of ζειαί for "fodder" (pace YD) -- or anything in the Linear B corpus.

YD's lengthiest commentary is reserved for the ticklish subject of the interpretation of the Thebes tablets (Aravantinos, Godart, and Sacconi 2001). He deals with the issues directly but more delicately than he and other have elsewhere (ibid. 2002-03; James 2002-03; Palaima 2000-01, 2003). I will not recite the arguments here. Suffice it to state that YD covers the major problems: the identity of sometimes written enclitic *65 and -u-*65 as "son" (not FAR) in the Theban "dialect" (pp. 353-9); the case for dry unit GRA 1 = fraction T 10 at Thebes, as elsewhere (pp. 360-1); and the case against identifying a holy trinity of Zeus, Demeter, and Kore in the Thebes texts (pp. 361-71). The stem from which Greek words for "son" are derived is probably *suH-yus (not **suyus, p. 355). Hence all of YD's transcriptions of Mycenaean dialectal / idiolectal reflexes should contain long u or i from dissimilation and compensatory lengthening. As YD points out, while ke-re-na-i (TH Fq 126) is certainly not "to the cranes" (as if votive), neither is it likely to be "women making barley groats" (p. 371; cf. Hsch. γέρανος: instrument for making ἄλφιτα) -- not least because the word does not take the shape of a Mycenaean feminine noun of agency. There are miscellaneous, contestable issues of morphology and lexical semantics, but these are scarce.

As for contextual readings, YD revives the interpretation, first suggested by L. Palmer (1963: 340, 354), that te-ke t^hêke could be translated as "he buried" in funerary context. I will not comment on its applicability to Thebes Fq 126 (pp. 303-4). Suffice it to reiterate that the case for "buried," rather than "installed (in office)," in Pylos Ta 711 was long ago undermined by evidence that the rest of the Ta set does not record funeral accoutrements (see Palaima 2004). Perhaps of greater interest to archaeologists, YD refers to Mycenaean ta-ra-si-ja tala(n)siâ as a term for corvée (p. 268), which, to be fair, is how it is often glossed (Aura Jorro 1999: 319-20). However, he may assume too much in this definition. Killen has more cautiously defined it as dispensation of amounts of material, measured so as to prevent theft or fraud, to dependent or semi-dependent crafts-persons (see pp. 191-5 of the Companion).

Errors of Copy Editing and Proofreading

The editors could have ensured for the sake of non-specialist readers, especially non-linguists, that the Mycenaean Greek transcriptions are consistent with one another. Instead one finds labiovelars transcribed with both superscript u and superscript w. Furthermore, if superscripts are to be used to represent phonemes, then a superscript h should be used for the aspirate series, though this is inconsistently applied in the Companion. Closer attention to editing the contributions of non-Anglophones might have prevented the appearance of some occasionally worrisome misspellings and solecisms: e.g. shipwrek (p. 85); persistance (p. 89 n.10), Galilea (for Galilee, p. 89 n. 13); weaved (for woven, p. 219); amphor (for amphora, pp. 223, 225); dying (for dyeing, pp. 219, 229, 252); cultual (for cultic, Duhoux passim, except p. 304!), heroin (sic) Ἰφιμέδεια (p. 334); Pylian official described as "influent" (p. 341). There is no legitimate excuse among the authors, all classically educated, for "data is" (p. 136) and "data does" (p. 377). Finally, it seems the person who did the desktop layout forgot to toggle the "small caps" button for the running header on several pages of Van Alfen's article. A minor error I noticed in Pope's contribution is his identification of Linear B a-to-po-qo artopok^wos "(bread-)baker" with *ἀρτοπόκος. The latter is unattested: only normally dissimilating αρτοπόκος (k^w > π before ο) and metathesizing and dissimilating (?) ἀρτοκόπος are attested (the last perhaps representing conflation with words like κρεοκόπος).

Summary

Altogether, the Companion is a valuable single resource on the study of Linear B in its various aspects at the beginning of the twenty-first century. In the company of a knowledgeable instructor, the Companion could be more than adequate as a textbook for a course in Linear B and Mycenaean Greek, perhaps in combination with previously published chrestomathies, high-quality photographs, and good examples of contextual analysis of and economic inference into Linear B. As a handbook for specialists and non-specialists, one of its editors' express purposes, the Companion is rather lacking. The inconsistency not just in transcription of Linear B but also in translation of important terms is bound to confuse or mislead non-specialists, whereas even a scholar with a firm foundation in Greek, if not comparative Indo-European linguistics, is likely to find the inconsistencies in the techniques of presentation troublesome. Still, the Companion comprises extensive and up-to-date bibliographies, and it is well indexed in English, Greek, and Linear B. I am eager to see the second volume of this already well-rounded work. I hope that the editors will attend more to the details in that volume than in the present, not least for the sake of the supposed readership.

References Cited

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