Bryn Mawr Classical Review

Preview

John Lobur's book appears in the Routledge series Studies in Classics, edited by Dirk Obbink and Andrew Dyck, "which aims to bring high-quality work by emerging scholars to the attention of a wider audience."¹ Like other books in the series, it is a revised version of the author's dissertation. Lobur's discussion of the early formation of the imperial ideology of consensus at Rome complements Ando's earlier work on ideology and the ritual and communicative acts through which empire-wide consensus for Roman rule emerged.² Lobur's work seeks to demonstrate how a Roman imperial ideology of consensus emerged organically and as a community project through the struggles of the end of the Republic and to illustrate through the works of several imperial authors how ongoing dialogues on the nature of Roman virtue and the history of the Late Republic continued to shape and legitimize the Principate.

Lobur begins his examination of early imperial ideology with a welcome discussion of the concept of ideology and its applicability to the interpretation of ancient societies.³ Lobur improves on Eich's view of Augustan ideology wherein the emperor ultimately controls the fashioning and production of his image to overwhelm viewers by its sheer preponderance.⁴ Following a suggestion by Syme and calling upon recent research in cognitive psychology, Lobur argues that Augustan ideology emerged in a continual negotiation of beliefs as they were inflected by "a large number of personal experiences and discourses."⁵ Lobur argues that Augustus out of necessity responded to this complex, ongoing evaluation of Roman beliefs and helped to tune his ideology as a participant in the broader discussion.

The first three chapters lay out the process by which Republican ideals concerning consensus were performed, memorialized, and shaped into a working ideology for the new Principate. Chapter 1 initiates the daunting task of interweaving an account of the transformation of the Republic from the Triumviral Period through the early years of Augustus' reign using texts, such as the Res Gestae, that simultaneously interpret and memorialize that history. Lobur argues effectively that consensus is the central concept that undergirds the princeps' position. Augustus' assertion of that position on both an informal and formal basis could not have worked so well had he not repeatedly performed consensus and thereby demonstrated the legitimacy that justified his supremacy. Lobur shows how this consensus was anchored in the past through exhibiting its role in early Latin epigraphy (Scipio sarcophagus, Calatinus epitaph; 32-33) and then how it was beautifully explicated as the tie that bound the many to the unus vir in Livy's historiography (33-35). While persuasive on the whole, the chapter is sometimes quite dense in ways that reflect the complexity of the problems Lobur has set out to tackle.

In Chapter 2, Lobur employs Sallust and Cicero to illustrate how both populares and optimates appealed to the concept of concordia in the shared belief that it was vital to the health and proper functioning of the state. Such an overlap in values provided suitable conditions for the emergence of consensus. Lobur's discussion of Sallust focuses primarily on how a popular clamor for power over the various organs of the state that was both comprehensive in scope and conservative in its emphasis on tradition prefigured Augustus (45-47). Lobur then argues at greater length that Cicero, representing the optimate perspective, fashioned a notion of consensus as authorizing a leader (in this case, Cicero in 63) in such a way that he might legitimately act outside the formal law and constitution (50-55). Cicero also used one-off spectacles to perform consensus and thus to evoke such authorization. Augustus was indebted to these Ciceronian precedents. Somewhat distracting is the appearance of material on the third Sibylline oracle and the Greek concept of homonoia in this and the next chapter (56, 63). This material is relevant to the argument, but it deserves a fuller treatment in its own section.

In Chapter 3, Lobur convincingly argues for the centrality of the role of the proscriptions and their memorialization in literature in molding the ideology of the Principate. The turmoil of proscriptions and the Triumviral Period also facilitated a convergence of popular and elite interests to bring about a return to order. Lobur's analysis of passages in Appian and Dio highlights the role that the proscriptions' onlookers came to play in defining the behavior that would win fides. Augustan propaganda depicts Octavian securing that trust and Antonius violating it through his cruelty (74). Augustan propaganda also appropriates the heroism of women and slaves whose exceeding loyalty won them clemency and casts Octavian as the champion of such down-trodden persons. In the latter part of the chapter, Lobur turns to another figure whom he argues Octavian used as a model: Atticus. Nepos' biography of Atticus illustrates how he bridged the chasm between opposing sides through the principle of active neutrality (i.e., support for friends on both sides of a conflict) and won respect through generous benefactions (81-89). Augustus alluded to Atticus' example in his autobiography, as can be demonstrated through its influence on Nicolaus of Damascus' biography of the princeps.

In the second half of the book (chapters 4-6), Lobur examines Velleius Paterculus, Seneca, and Valerius Maximus to elucidate the role of historiography, oratory, and exempla in participating in and shaping a cultural discussion in which the Principate seemed to answer the questions the emerging imperial ideology had helped to frame. In chapter 4, Lobur opens with a discussion of the generic characteristics of Velleius Paterculus' history, which exhibits both brevitas and festinatio to evince the historian's mastery of his material (97). Through his particular choice of material from a vast possibility of alternatives, Velleius makes a strong statement concerning what is worthy, reframes it according to imperial values, and in doing so participates in what Lobur calls the empire's new "unified political culture." This activity builds upon the precedent of Augustus' presentation of the summi viri in the Forum of Augustus. Lobur then shows how Velleius deftly depicts the rise of Tiberius as being natural and necessary for the continuation of the felicity experienced in Augustan Rome and for precluding the possibility of a return to civil war. Velleius highlights Tiberian values (moderatio, concern for the lives of the soldiers) both by demonstrating them in the person of Tiberius (102-11) and in foils from the Republican past, most notably Antonius. Republican history is thus recast in a way that serves the ideological concerns of the present.

Chapter 5 explores the practice of oratory as a means of working out and performing imperial consensus. Lobur starts his discussion by explaining the significance of oratory in the Late Republic. He then sets out Seneca's contribution to the imperial understanding of oratory's past and the values of different genres. Although less prestigious than the political dictio that typified oratorical mastery in the Late Republic, declamatio allowed a new generation of imperial orators to reimagine episodes from the past, such as the proscriptions, and thus to play their part in constructing imperial ideology. Cicero, on account of his superior style and historical relationship with Augustus and Antonius, became not only the founder of imperial eloquence, but also a useful locus for articulating the values of the new order. Lobur then demonstrates how different depictions of Cicero's death reflected a divergence of opinions that nevertheless overlapped on the issue of his surpassing significance. This phenomenon allowed a unified, but not homogeneous and hence sterile, cultural dialogue to occur.

Chapter 6 is perhaps the most effective in the book. Lobur provides a nice overview of the concept of the exemplum, pointing out its distinction from Greek moral discourse and tracing the implications of Valerius' arrangement of exempla by categories of virtue instead of according to historical or cultural context. Romans preferred the practical and intuitive value of anecdotes highlighting virtues to the abstract and analytical approach of the Greeks. Exemplarity allowed Romans to bring their values to life, or "embody" them, by imitation of the deeds of their ancestors. Valerius Maximus' strategy in the selection and arrangement of these exempla promotes Roman values in a jingoistic fashion, but at the same time opens them to imitation by all, regardless of gender, culture, or status (albeit in an expression that maintains and reinforces the Roman concept of societal order). Furthermore, the bricolage of Valerius' exempla also allows for creativity and adaptation under a mask of traditionalism, while fostering a broad consensus. In short, Valerius' project both reflects and informs first-century Rome's unique brand of imperialism in its own mechanics.

Lobur contends that by removing historical anecdotes from their context, exempla are thereby de-politicized (182). It may have also been the case that exempla, gathered in a single work and encompassing as they sometimes did conflicting political positions, demonstrated how consensus was expressed in an accord with the value of certain virtues and the importance of their imitation regardless of the political orientation of the persons depicted therein. The politics of exempla were not stripped so much as transcended, and people with diverging views could all find reflections of themselves in the past as it was (re)presented to them, even in the actions of those with whom they otherwise disagreed. In his conclusion, Lobur provides an excellent example of the fruits of this inclusiveness in Livy, who "provided models for consensus-based autocracy in the early history of Rome, but in his narrative of the late republic, his perspective was [Pompeian]" (211). This reviewer suggests that the inclusive, in addition to the a-contextual, nature of exempla, sustained the possibility of such contributions.

Lobur draws his argument to a close by advocating for the integrative approach that he has ably demonstrated in his use of a wide variety of evidences and theoretical approaches (209-10). His method was particularly effective in pursuing a thesis that sought to illustrate the manner in which diverse voices and views contributed to the emergence of an imperial ideology of consensus that Augustus was able in myriad ways to participate in as first citizen of Rome and ruler of the Roman Empire. Lobur has successfully built on the foundation laid by Ando in showing how "Romans of all ranks are allowed to be enthusiastic about the [Principate] without being cast as mere flatterers" (210) and, since the thesis carries the reader into the reign of Tiberius, it raises new questions about the first-century empire as seen through the lenses of Suetonius and Tacitus. On the whole, the thesis is argued persuasively, but this reviewer would have liked to see the overall arc of the book's argument traced more explicitly in the individual chapters. Occasionally this reader felt slightly adrift. The first three chapters, addressing the complex historical issues of the emergence of consensus ideology, were somewhat less linear, clear, and focused than the final three chapters.⁶ This should in no way dissuade any serious student or scholar of the Roman Empire from a profitable reading of Lobur's enlightening discussion.

1.   Moralee, J. "For Salvation's Sake." Provincial Loyalty, Personal Religion, and Epigraphic Production in the Roman and Late Antique Near East. New York and London, 2004: xv.
2.   Ando, C. Imperial Ideology and Provincial Loyalty in the Roman Empire. Berkeley, 1999.
3.   Lobur discusses the influence of Marxist and anthropological scholarship (Geertz) on his views concerning ideology as a constructive and positive force of cultural production (2). Lobur acknowledges his particular debt to Syme, who previously suggested that ideology was not a fiction of the Principate imposed on others, but that it "reflected irrepressible elite attitudes" (3).
4.   Eich, A. "Die Idealtypen 'Propaganda' und 'Repraesentation' als heuristische Mittel bei der Bestimmung gesellschaftlicher Konvergenzen und Divergenzen von Moderne und roemischer Kaiserzeit." In: Weber, G. and M. Zimmermann, eds. Propaganda, Selbstdarstellung, Repraesentation im roemischen Kaiserreich des 1. Jhs. n. Chr. Historia Einzelschrift, 2003: 64, 68ff.
5.   Van Dijk, T. Ideology: A Multidisciplinary Approach. London, 1998: 97-8 as quoted by Lobur on p. 5. Syme, R. The Augustan Aristocracy. Oxford, 1986: 441. Jowett, G. and V. O'Donnel. Propaganda and Persuasion. Thousand Oaks, 1999: 33-34.
6.   A few typographical errors appear, and the reviewer here provides a sample: virtues is misspelled as "virutes" on p. 23. A translated quote from Sallust Cat. 13.1 on p. 46 is missing the final quotation mark. The coin pictured on p. 71, which should follow the colon at the end of the paragraph at the top of the page, has fallen to the bottom. Its description, "Figures 1," should read "Figure 1." The coin pictured on the following page also belongs on p. 71, following the appropriate reference and colon. Here the description "Figure 2 and 3" should read "Figures 2 and 3." On p. 76, Gaius Octavius is incorrectly identified as Octavian beneath the text of ILS 47 in which the former appears, although he is correctly identified as Octavian's father earlier on the same page.

Clearly, the market for "handbooks," "companions," "readings in," and other such anthologies of scholarship on all manner of classical topics has not proven so saturated as to preclude a continuing, indeed steady stream of additional titles. To its credit, the present volume is, to the best of my knowledge, the first such collection of articles or chapters exclusively devoted to Petronius's Satyricon (or Satyrica).¹ The present volume also contains entirely original work, with nothing reprinted (revised or otherwise) from some other source. Honesty compels the observation that the price of this "handbook," and others like it from the same publisher, is woefully inflated, though the production values are impeccable, from proofreading to binding.

The stated goal of this collection is to provide a series of articles on a "range of topics" that reflected in part a desire to being together work from a variety of "different approaches" on an admittedly challenging text. By and large the editors' goals have been accomplished, and creditably so, by this volume. All students and teachers of Petronius will want to have access to this "handbook," even if, as is perhaps inevitable with collections of this sort, the end result is something less than the sum of its constituent parts.

It is difficult to discern the audience(s) for this handbook; we are sent to "Homer's Iliad" (sic) to learn about more the name "Agamemnon," while elsewhere a more sophisticated readership seems to lurk. It is regrettable that Petronius's Latin is not often used for quotes from the novel, which was the end result this reviewer feared when classics titles started printing translations of all Latin and Greek along with the originals.² There are no footnotes or endnotes, but rather internal citations that are a bit distracting; there is an uneasy union here, as in other books of this type, of a desire to document and accessibility to a neophyte readership that is unlikely to pursue many of the cited references. More seriously, broad brush strokes sometimes obscure points of serious scholarly debate. There is a tendency to internal cross-referencing between the chapters that seems rather self-serving, even if the attempt at unity between the contributions is commendable (however limiting if not impossible). One gathers that the intention is for the reader to proceed sequentially through the chapters, though I would suspect most users of this book will sample according to taste. Besides the individual chapters there is a comprehensive bibliography that (refreshingly) does not limit itself to anglophone scholarship, as well as an Index Locorum and ample general index.

The editors begin with a useful introduction that includes a helpful glossary of characters from the novel and an abbreviated guide to texts, translations, and some secondary work, though strangely much of this is duplicated in the bibliography section appended to the first article, Slater's piece on "Reading the Satyrica". A conspicuous omission from the introduction is a summary of the manuscript tradition of the novel.

N. Slater's chapter is an application of reader-response criticism to Petronius's fragmentary novel that comes as no surprise to readers of the author's previous monograph.³ What is most valuable here are the reminders about the reality of book production and the practical logistics of "reading" and "listening" in Roman antiquity that students of the ancient novel need to keep in mind as they begin work on Petronius, even if "reader-response" criticism sometimes seems an exercise in dressing up the obvious.

J.R. Morgan's chapter is on the influence of Greek literature on Petronius, with the expected study of Homer, Plato, and the Greek novel. Morgan's essay also touches a bit on Petronius's relationship to Virgil, especially in considering the Cena Trimalchionis as Virgilian and Homeric underworld (though the interesting connection between Virgil and Petronius's labyrinth imagery is not made clear).

C. Panayotakis' chapter is a companion to Morgan's that focuses on Latin literature. Panayotakis observes that if it were not for the Greek novel and other related texts, he might think the Satyricon were an "impertinent Aeneid," though the necessary major correspondences are lacking, and it is more than stretching to support a connection between Encolpius' penis and Dido because both names are grammatically feminine. It is regrettable that the connections drawn with Latin literature only begin with Horace and virtually ignore everything before. The influence of the Roman elegists on Petronius is also missing here. And where is Lucan? The scant coverage is explained by material found in other essays in the volume, though most readers interested in the topic will want to find more on this vast subject in the present chapter, even if only cursory coverage. It is good to see a reference to Collignon's magisterial study, too often neglected by modern Petronians.⁴

Victoria Rimell's chapter is on language and sound, and one of the better offerings in this collection. Petronius's Latin is finally allowed to see the light of day, and Rimell does it more than justice; this chapter (and Caroline Vout's below) should be required reading for seminars on the Satyricon. Because of the appearance of the extensive Latin, there is almost a sense of shock when one studies this chapter after a sequential reading of the preceding ones. The crucial intertext between Lucan, Petronius, and the omnipresent place of civil war in the Roman psyche is here masterfully studied.

A. Richlin's chapter is on sex in Petronius. I am not sure there was a "common Roman stereotype of women as sex-crazed." The opening of this chapter is best, where an overview of Roman sexual customs is presented lucidly and succinctly; less effective is where Bakhtin, Freud, and first-person shooter computer games make unnecessary appearances. I am not convinced "that jokes establish norms much as laws do" and that jokes do not tell us anything direct about their targets; good humor is funny precisely because of its truth. "Histories of Latin literature. . .identified the main characters as Greeks and/or freed slaves" because that is what they are, not because of any agenda to keep Roman citizens out of the picture. Nor am I sure that "freeborn" connoted "chaste" to a Roman audience, or that novels offer "video" where "other kinds of texts offer snapshots" to the historian of Roman sexuality. Richlin concludes her essay with a valuable summary of the Satyricon's history as a banned text, even if I cannot share the author's concern about the possible future banning of the book (worthier of fear is the already serious decline in the number of those who can read it in Latin, as many of the conventions of this collection bear witness). Craig Williams's work should have been included in the chapter bibliography. So also Ellen Oliensis's.

Caroline Vout's chapter on the Satyrica and Roman culture is an outstanding essay, and the volume's finest contribution. Vout begins where we must, with Nero and his courtiers and the important work of the late Kenneth Rose. Not surprisingly, as with Victoria Rimell's chapter, Vout's work is excellent in part because of its close study of the Latin text, which again makes a welcome appearance. If we must imagine Petronius's original audience if we are to gain a better understanding of his work, Vout's essay provides the right material for study. Refreshingly, the prose is attractive and the ideological axes are left for others to grind. Her discussion of the Cyclops as metaphor for the emperor (after Philostratus) is splendid.

J. Andreau's chapter on freedmen is translated by Paul Dilley (if we cannot expect Latin competence these days, still less French!). One of the finer contributions, Andreau's work provides the necessary prolegomenon to understanding a crucial social dynamic at play in Petronius's novel. Good here is Andreau's reflection on John Bodel's work on the non-future of Roman freedmen.

K. Verboven's work on the economics in the Satyricon is a companion to Andreau's in offering essential material on a still relatively understudied aspect of this novel. Especially good here is the section on the agricultural underpinning of Trimalchio's economy.

V. Hope's chapter concerns itself with Roman funeral traditions and the tomb of Trimalchio, and provides a fine pairing with S. Hales' contribution on "vulgar villas." Hales offers a particularly good section on the absence of hunting narrative from the art in Trimalchio's domus.

One imagines that many people know something of Petronius from the film Quo Vadis, itself an adaptation of a novel originally written in Polish, published complete in 1896 and later translated into English. Historical fiction such as this, the most famous work of the Nobel laureate Henryk Sienkiewicz, is the subject of a fine essay by S.J. Harrison on (mostly) English novels relevant to Nero's Rome. These are the novels that (in some cases at least) many classicists have seen on dusty shelves and may even have read as part of a childhood sparking of interest in antiquity; Harrison provides a useful overview of a neglected area of inquiry.

The last essay is J. Paul's work on the Fellini-Satyricon. Paul is working on a monograph devoted to depictions of ancient Rome in film, and one gets the sense that word count worked against her in this essay; she clearly has much more to say, and to say well, on a vast subject (the same is true of Harrison's essay). One wishes in particular for more commentary on the haunting frescoed ending of Fellini's film.

The success of this volume as a whole depends of course on one's definition of "handbook." The baker's dozen of articles provided here (including the introduction) certainly cover a broad range of relevant topics, and some of the contributions offer treatments of a given topic that are both sophisticated and accessible to a wide range of audiences. The editors are to be commended for what must be one of the most lasting and praiseworthy products born over a "couple of pints of beer in a pub in Nottingham."

1.   Harrison, S.J. Oxford Readings in the Roman Novel, Oxford, 1999 covers both Petronius and Apuleius. 2.   The editors note (p. 4) that all Latin is translated (true); less accurate is the statement that "the Latin is often quoted or referred to," since only Rimell and Vout do so to a significant degree. In referencing the handbook's chapters I have in general resisted the temptation to follow Nicholas Horsfall's admirable and useful convention of citing individual contributions by surname, initial, or Christian name based on the relative merit of the essay. 3.   Reading Petronius. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990. 4.   Étude sur Petrone: La critique litteraire, l'imitation et la parodie dans le Satiricon. Paris, 1892.

Preview

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

Many years ago it had occurred to me that there was a need for a book that dealt with the important topic of personal motivation in the Greek historians, beginning with Herodotus. The project that I envisioned was something far less sophisticated than the treatment given in Emily Baragwanath's provocative, stimulating, dense, and often brilliant monograph. This is not simply a book about attributions of motivation narrowly conceived, but it deals in a highly original and illuminating way with the relationship between ascriptions of motive and the larger narrative strategies of the Histories. The Herodotus that emerges is not one who offers a single authoritative version of the past, but an author who presents various possible motives and interpretations, who wants his readers to realize how difficult it is to know about the past, and who encourages them to weigh the evidence for themselves and to reach their own conclusions. To be sure, Baragwanath builds on the work of other scholars who view Herodotus's historical project in similar terms, but her conclusions are by no means derivative. In many ways she models Herodotus's own method in suggesting different ways of interpreting various passages, while skillfully prodding readers in a particular direction. This is by far one of the most interesting books on Herodotus that I have read, and, quite frankly, when it comes to instilling enthusiasm in the reader to reread and to rethink even the most famous of episodes in the Histories, I cannot think of a better one.

This is not a book that one can just dip into. It should be read in its entirety, and several readings are really necessary to extract all of its riches. It took me a long time to read it through for the simple reason that on almost every page there was some new idea or new reading that made me stop and think, and often to take out my text of Herodotus. And in most cases I came away persuaded. If one purpose, indeed a primary purpose, of a work of literary criticism is to make the reader eager to return to a text and to consider it afresh, then this book is an unqualified success. The argument assumes a very detailed knowledge of the whole of the Histories on the part of the reader (and of Homer as well in chapter 2). Perhaps this is necessary given the type of close reading that Baragwanath offers (and she is at her best when demonstrating how the range of possible meanings of a particular passage is conditioned by other parts of the narrative). Yet it would be difficult to follow the arguments presented here without first having read the whole of Herodotus very carefully. This book deserves a very broad audience, and one hopes that non-specialist readers will have the patience to work through it. So much ground is covered in this book (much more in fact than the title alone indicates) that it would be impossible to give an accurate account of everything that it contains or to do justice to the sophistication of its arguments, so what follows is necessarily selective.

Chapter 1 sets out the method to be pursued and the author's own vision of Herodotus as a writer who empowers his readers, both contemporary and future, to contribute to imputing meaning to his Histories: "His frequent inclusion in his text of a range of versions, including those with which he explicitly disagrees, furnishes others with the material that they need, potentially to challenge his personal verdict" (p. 2). Baragwanath employs Wolfgang Iser's theory of reader response as her main interpretative tool. But she also uses Plutarch as a touchstone both for how an ancient audience would have reacted to the text and as a means of revealing Herodotus's narrative strategies. These prove to be very fruitful methodological choices, and my only criticism concerns what she does not do. It would have been helpful to explain more fully for the uninitiated how the terms "author", "implied author", and "narrator" are used in the field of narratology (especially on pages 32-4). So too, more of Plutarch's cultural and intellectual background might have been filled in.

More serious perhaps is a lack of precision in defining the parameters of Herodotus's contemporary audience (both oral and literate). Although throughout Baragwanath asks how Herodotus's contemporary audience would have read and reacted to the text, she does not indicate just how problematic and controversial it is to fix that audience in time. On page 6, n. 1, she refers to the "original mid to late-fifth century BC audience," but later we seem to be told that this audience was pre-Peloponnesian War or 440s BC (pp. 307-8, 315-16). It makes a huge difference, of course, in terms of audience response (as well as of authorial "intentions") whether the bulk of the Histories was being written and performed in the years leading up to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War or when that war was well underway, in the 420s or even as late as the 410s.

The first chapter ends with a test case for the usefulness of a reader-response approach. She proposes that Herodotus is taking on the authorial persona of an "unreliable narrator" in his rejection (6.121.1) of the rumor that the Alcmaeonidae had used a shield to signal to the Persian forces after Marathon ("it is a wonder to me and I won't accept the assertion..."). Baragwanath gives an insightful demonstration of how the narrative of the Alcmaeonidae's exploits, beginning in Book I, casts doubt on the narrator's own verdict, and she persuasively argues that Herodotus intended that his audience should challenge that verdict.

Chapter 2 compares the ascription of motives in Herodotus and Homer with an emphasis on how the former appropriates and develops the latter's techniques. In her epilogue Baragwanath briefly, and tantalizingly, states that the treatment of motive in fifth-century tragedy is comparable to that in Herodotus. One wishes that another chapter could have been added in which the similarities with tragedy were explored. Chapter 3 deals with the tension between the historian's purpose in conferring kleos (fame) and his revealing of motives that were more pragmatic than heroic. The depiction of Leonidas at Thermopylae stands as a case study of how Herodotus sometimes juxtaposes idealizing and pragmatic explanations for historical events. The key difference between Thucydides and Herodotus in attributing motive is well brought out in chapter 4. Whereas in Thucydides there is a high degree of congruence between human intention and resulting action (sometimes too congruent to seem true), in Herodotus there is more often than not a disjunction which highlights the unpredictability of actions and their remoteness from intentions. The two case studies are the thematically interlocking accounts of tyranny on the island of Samos and of the Persian king Cambyses. The analysis of the latter's utter unpredictability is particularly skillful.

Only once in chapter 4 did the argument seem to push this book's line of approach a bit too hard, and I was less persuaded by the suggestion that the presentation of Maiandrios, with its shifting and contrasting perspectives, is intended to prompt the reader to question whether Maiandrios was sincere in his initial offer to give up the tyranny over Samos (p. 101, 105-7). If Baragwanath's interpretation is correct, we would then need to take Herodotus as yet again acting as an unreliable narrator when he said of Maiandrios that "although he desired to be the most just of men, he did not succeed." Isn't this rather a clear case, both for Herodotus and for his readers, of good-intentions being altered under the "stress of circumstances" (a category of motivation that is explored in chapters 6 and 7)? The problem, of course, is how and when to decide when Herodotus is giving a straightforward opinion and when he is provoking his audience with an unreliable or ironic authorial comment. The only guidance that this book gives is in a footnote (p. 34, n. 98): "An unreliable narrator is not evident in cases where Herodotus did have better evidence--such as in the account of Ephialtes' betrayal of the Thermopylae pass: 7.213-14." It might seem like a circular argument to posit that the Herodotean narrator is only an unreliable narrator in those cases where Herodotus the author did not have good evidence for an assertion. How are we to know when the evidence was good, or at least was deemed by Herodotus to be good? Does the text itself provide the necessary cues in terms of congruence, or lack thereof, between authorial intervention and surrounding narrative? Would it be simpler to assume that the Herodotean narrator is always "unreliable"?

Alternative attributions of motive is the subject of chapter 5, leading to the conclusion that high ideals play a more limited role than personal advantage in motivating both individuals and communities, even if rhetorical appeals to such things as freedom or Greek unity are expected to be effective in persuading others to act. After a very interesting discussion of Athenian and Pelasgian motives in 6.137-9, the chapter ends with a subtle and nuanced demonstration that the Athenians, including the Alcmaeonidae, are depicted as willing to be ruled by Peisistratus. The next two chapters (6 and 7) deal with the Ionian revolt and the decision of various Greek states whether or not to medize in 481-79, which pursue further the tension between professed high minded motives (especially the desire for freedom) and the reality of acting from self-interest. Herodotus is intent on revealing the inadequacy of simple slogans to do justice to the complexity of the messy reality of why people did what they did, and by presenting alternative accounts he encourages his readers to sort out some of this mess for themselves. At the same time, he is aware that noble motives may be corrupted over time by the pressure of circumstances and that individuals may act out of a complex combination of motives. So we are not dealing with a simplistic distinction between motives that are noble/selfless/openly professed and base/self-interested/concealed.

Chapter 7 is a lucid and deft exploration of the necessity that drove many Greek states to medize. Herodotus's intention, according to this reading, is not to invite readers to join in accusing those Greeks who sat out the war or joined the Persians, but to understand their predicament, especially if they felt driven to take the actions that they did. At only one point in this detailed discussion did I feel that the argument left out a vital piece of the puzzle. Baragwanath suggests (pp. 211-17) that in his complex analysis of Argive motives Herodotus was concerned to demonstrate that the Argives were motivated not by a desire for command, but by concern not to fall prey again to Sparta, and that readers are being prompted not to criticize their behavior but rather to understand it. This reader feels no empathy for the Argives, and Baragwanath has left out one telling detail. She summarizes Herodotus's account as follows: the Argives demand a share in the command against Persia, the Spartans reply that in no way could one of the Spartan kings be deprived of command, and in response (quoting Herodotus 7.149.3) "The Argives say that they would not endure the Spartans' pleonexie ('selfishness/greediness'), but chose rather to be ruled by the Persians than to yield in any way to the Spartans." Baragwanath then comments (p. 213), "This response is understandable: the narrative has underlined the fact of Spartan obduracy." My difficulty is that she omits half of the Spartan response; to wit, that they offered one third of the command to the Argives since the Spartans had two kings but the Argives only one. To me at least that detail significantly alters how one is meant to read this passage, and it makes the Argives look much less reasonable (and pardonable).

Likewise, I am not convinced that Herodotus's narrative actively invites competing interpretations of Corcyrean motives for not joining the Greeks at Salamis (pp. 220-222), (one of which, again, encourages an empathetic understanding of their predicament). But other readers may well feel differently, and part of the excitement of this book is that it arouses just these sorts of interpretative debates.

A highly nuanced discussion of Xerxes' motives and character is the subject of chapter 8, and it is nothing short of brilliant. Baragwanath shrewdly leaves aside the vexed question of Herodotus's sources, and explains the double characterization of Xerxes in Herodotus as being a function of dual Persian and Greek perspectives. She gives a good deal of attention to the Council scene at the beginning of Book 7, and sees it as being programmatic for the interpretation of the scenes that follow. She has made a very compelling case for understanding Herodotus's account of Xerxes in terms of Greek versus Persian explanatory paradigms (pp. 268-9, 280), the one helpful in understanding the near success of the expedition and the ideology that motivated it, the other in comprehending its ultimate failure in terms explicable to Greeks, such as the concept of hubris.

The final chapter (9) is a reevaluation of Herodotus's depiction of Themistocles. The main thrust of this chapter is to argue that when Herodotus gives his famous attribution of a self-interested motive to Themistocles at 8.109.5-110.1, he is once again taking on the role of an unreliable narrator. Baragwanath's Herodotus is too sophisticated a writer to be subservient to sources that were hostile to Themistocles. Rather, in his presentation of Themistocles, as elsewhere in his text, he consciously presents the reader with various and shifting perspectives on motivation, in an attempt to get them to evaluate the narrative for themselves: "readers are prompted to engage with the material and actively work to combine the different strands" (p. 318). Historians who look for simplistic or straightforward evaluations in Herodotus's account (e.g. Themistocles was always self-interested or was a true patriot before Salamis and then became hubristic afterwards) miss the subtlety of Herodotus's treatment; for the complexity of Herodotus's narrative mirrors the complexity of the events themselves. The chapter ends with a salutary warning against looking for "exclusive readings--for keys that promise to unlock the 'true' interpretation, or Herodotus's single and central 'message'" (p. 322).

I am well aware that this brief summary does scant justice to the many and complex arguments that comprise this persuasive and many-faceted study. It is a book that constantly prompts one to rethink even long held opinions, and this is far more important, and more interesting, than whether or not one agrees with all of her readings of individual passages. Another admirable feature of this work is the way that it engages with previous scholarship, displaying grace even when in sharp disagreement with other opinions (a stance that younger scholars may profitably take note of when writing a first book). The highest compliment that I can pay this book is a simple one: if told to teach a course, whether undergraduate or graduate, on Herodotus, with the aid of only a single work of secondary literature to accompany the reading of the Greek text, without a moment's hesitation I would choose Motivation and narrative in Herodotus. A very brief Epilogue (only a single page) ends the book, in which we are told that the meaning of the Histories, like the meaning of the past itself, will always remain contested. This profound and engaging book is an important contribution to that ongoing contestation of meaning, as well as a model of how it should be conducted.

The book has nine chapters and a brief Epilogue.

Table of Contents

In Ancient Rome and Modern America, Margaret Malamud offers an alternative account of American history from the eighteenth century to the present day. The book focuses on the importance of Republican and Imperial Rome to modern America, and more specifically on the way in which the latter has used and moulded contemporary perceptions of ancient Rome. In her history of the United States of America seen 'through the lens of antiquity', Malamud presents a variety of source material, ranging from theatre, painting, novels, personal writings and speeches by politicians to more popular domains in which ancient Rome has played an active part (cinema, material wealth and luxury goods...).

Chapter 1 treats the period from the War of Independence to around 1840, when ancient Rome evolved from being an example of moral virtue to being a negative example, incarnating the excesses of tyranny, loss of liberty and moral decadence. Malamud illustrates how the history of ancient Rome initially functioned as a source of inspiration for modern America's struggle against British imperialism; consider the importance attached to the figure of Cato, as in the play Cato which was performed to demoralized American soldiers in 1778 at the request of George Washington. Figures such as Cato and Cicero became central heroes in the fight against tyranny, which was represented by in turn Julius Caesar. This emotional interest in late Republican Rome endured during the first years of independence, when some started to perceive America as a new kind of empire. The traces of this tendency can be found in writings of politicians, as well as in those of elite women, who saw themselves as reflections of Roman matronae, and in historical plays. With the rise to power of Andrew Jackson, a caesura occurred in many an American's perception of the Caesarian era. Indeed for many members of the old aristocratic class, Caesar now represented an internal rather than an external enemy, i.e., the president himself as a popular kind of dictator. As such, during the Jacksonian era a vivid debate developed, which focused mainly on Julius Caesar, imperialism and tyranny.

The second chapter illustrates how Roman history was simultaneously being written in the opposite sense The (mainly aristocratic) opponents of Andrew Jackson and of the democratic ideals he represented saw in the late Roman Republic and above all in Caesar a negative historical example and a warning against the menace of authoritarian rule by Jackson, in an era of increasing wealth and the accompanying social tensions provoked by it. But Jackson's supporters focused on themes of civic liberty and equality, which they often traced back to the Roman past. As has been the case in the preceding chapter, Margaret Malamud supports her analysis with examples taken from a number of plays, books and speeches by politicians. She also includes a growing number of press reports and figurative artworks. The chapter ends with the growing importance which was being attached to the Gracchi brothers, who, at least in the North, were seen as quintessential examples of 'working man's heroes'.

The following chapter focuses on the discourse concerning the politics of slavery, both in ancient Rome and in modern America. Through examples of speeches and writings of contemporaries, Malamud illustrates ways in which both defence and condemnation of slavery were often being supported by references to antiquity. Abolitionists, for example, often had recourse to Carthage, whose 'heroic' resistance to Roman imperialism they saw as being motivated by a fear of enslavement to the Roman Empire. Other Northerners referred not to slavery as it was generally known, but to what could be termed (white) 'wage slavery', i.e. the risk of becoming 'enslaved' by wage capital. In this context, the Gracchi brothers featured as historical exempla. In the South, supporters of slavery equally turned to the Roman Empire, arguing that slavery had brought Rome to greatness, and that it had permitted the development of culture. In their line of thinking, the decline of Rome had been the result of the avarice of the rich, and not of its dependence on slavery. The chapter ends with a case study of Southern matron Louisa S. McCord's tragedy Caius Gracchus, which reflected the way in which many Southerners saw the possibility of a Northern victory as a form of enslavement of the South to the Yankees, comparable to the effects of ancient Roman imperialism.

The fourth chapter is one of the more interesting ones, at least to a contemporary reader, while at the same time it seems to be of somewhat lesser importance to the subject of reception of antiquity. It treats the growing social tensions between finance capital and the poor working -and unemployed- classes, and elevates the discussion beyond party politics to issues of human dignity and the threat of social inequality, in other words to the level of universal themes which are recurrent in many a modern capitalist society. The specific subject of the reception of Roman antiquity rather stays in the background, and is mainly based on references to the oppression of the poor in Roman antiquity which can be found in political speeches and writings.

Next is a chapter which focuses on two novels, Edward Bulwer-Lytton's The Last Days of Pompeii (1834) and Lew Wallace's Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (1880). Both novels had a tremendous impact on their readership, conveying notions of virtue and (Christian) religious piety, as opposed to (Roman) degenerate imperialism. Whereas The Last Days of Pompeii combined this message with a stress on the importance of Greece and hence of democratic values,an issue which was highly sensitive during and in the aftermath of the presidency of Andrew Jackson, for many a reader Ben-Hur provided an alternative answer to the increasing cry for social justice. It not only offered the image of Christianity as a possible catalyst for the survival of ancient Rome -and hence also of modern America--but it also suggested that wealth and riches need not necessarily be seen as the cause of social inequality and injustice. Indeed they were to be considered as just the thing which American Christians needed to safeguard the future of their country.

Chapter 6 treats the triumph of American imperialism at the end of the nineteenth and at the beginning of the twentieth century. The latter led to, among other things, the development of a lavish classicist architectural style which gradually invaded the country's major cities. This 'American Renaissance' also reflected an increasing interest in luxury goods and services. Americans seemed to have lost much of their sense of measure; Roman antiquity became a reservoir of aesthetic rather than of moral values, as is for example evidenced by baths erected in a style which was termed Roman and luxury goods which copied ancient Roman relics. Indeed quite an untold story: 'how America's imagined relationship with ancient Rome was re-articulated to celebrate empire, wealth, and power is a fascinating but buried moment in the history of America's identification with ancient Rome.' (p. 179)

The subsequent chapter treats the period of the Great Depression. It focuses mainly on two films which appeared shortly after the Crash of 1929: Cecil B. DeMille's The Sign of the Cross and Samuel Goldwyn's Roman Scandals. Through the example of these two highly popular productions, Malamud illustrates the way in which in these times of economic and social crisis the Roman Empire, in its more decadent form, became a counter-example for modern America. Whereas Roman Scandals, featuring Jewish actor Eddie Cantor, focused exclusively on pagan Rome, DeMille also made an outspoken religious statement, using, quite ironically, images of Roman luxury and decadence as elements to attract and titillate crowds. The example of both productions shows how moviemakers used antiquity to respond to the dire economic and social conditions by offering 'reassuring and essentially conservative responses to the crises of the Depression era.' (p. 204)

In the eighth chapter, Malamud offers an insightful treatment of some instances in which, during the early Cold War years, the international political climate influenced the way in which ancient Rome was interpreted and used in the US. In an America which was rapidly evolving into a nation proffering a Manichean world view in which the Soviets and their communist 'faith' stood for the total negation and opposite of mainly Christian, democratic and free Americanism, productions such as Quo Vadis and The Robe pointed at the dangers of tyranny and 'political heresy'. Rome became mainly a negative example, the fierce, decadent oppressor for which there was only one true alternative: true, Christian faith. There were however also dissident voices, such as the novel Spartacus by Howard Fast. The latter used the example of Spartacus to promote his socialist world view, in a rare effort at criticizing the American Cold War rhetoric. Years later, his novel also inspired Kirk Douglas, who starred in a film based on the book. For all its cinematic qualities, the movie had to make many concessions to Fast's version, the result being a much less controversial, more salonfähige Spartacus.

The last chapter treats increasing American consumerism since the end of World War II, using as an iconic exemplum the ever expanding city of Las Vegas. Here we see Rome being exclusively put at the service of empty consumerist ideology. Indeed in the two main examples described in the chapter, Caesars Palace and the Forum Shops, Roman art and history are ornamentally inserted into a world which has as sole purpose the accumulation of riches through the attractive powers of pleasure and diversion. Devoid of any ideological value, antiquity becomes a symbol of opulence, riches and decadence. The latter aspect is now no longer being criticized, but it has effectively become the core element around which life seems to orbit.

The book fittingly ends in a brief assessment of the dangers of modern American imperialism, which bears striking resemblance--at least when observing the Bush-era--to the excessive, arrogant variant of Roman imperialism.

Ancient Rome and Modern America is an imaginative account on the importance of Roman antiquity throughout the history of the United States of America. The book is as much a history of American identity and culture as a history of the American reception of Roman antiquity. The fact that it considers both examples of higher and lower culture is an aspect which adds to its overall value. These merits are joined by an element which is of great value from a sociological viewpoint, and which is all too often neglected in reception studies, namely what could be termed the 'reception of the reception': not only does Margaret Malamud trace the importance of antiquity to modern America in the mentioned forms of culture, but her inclusion of press reports and personal writings gives us an idea of how the presentation of Rome in politics, novels, film, and architecture was received in turn by its American audience.

Preview

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

The book under review is the result of a workshop held in 2004 in Newcastle, where seven scholars met to discuss and compare seven royal courts in different cultures and periods: the Achaemenid, Argead Macedonian, and Sassanid, early and late imperial Roman, Han Chinese and New Kingdom Egyptian. What these courts have in common, is that they formed the cores (with the exception of pharaonic Egypt) of imperial states.¹ The Court and Court Society in Ancient Monarchies first of all aims at analyzing the political functioning of ancient imperial courts in a comparative perspective. It is furthermore an attempt to assign to the royal court a more central place in the study of ancient states (most of which were, after all, monarchical states) by making use of recent scholarship concerning the court in the early modern period. Ever since the seminal works of Jürgen von Kruedener (1973) and notably Norbert Elias (1969),² historians studying the cultural and political history of Europe after the Middle Ages have understood the pivotal importance of the court for the functioning of monarchical states, and the number of publications is substantial. In the study of ancient states, the court has played a far less central role.

Given the prevalence of monarchy in the political history of the Ancient World, it is remarkable that royal courts have received such limited attention. Most literature on ancient courts is concerned with the institutional and prosopographical aspects of court society, the archaeology of palaces (including ideological readings of palace architecture and iconography), or, more recently, literary patronage. Attempts at analysis are still rare and aside from the odd obligatory reference to Elias most ancient historians still study their ancient courts in vacuo.³ In the past decades, moreover, many of Elias' ideas about the court have been adjusted or even completely rejected, in particular his fundamental theory that the court was a "gilded cage" for the nobility, an instrument in the hands of the king to subjugate unruly aristocrats and so establish absolutist rule. The obligatory presence at court, the restrictions of court etiquette and the heavy burden of status expenditures, with which the ruler supposedly tied down the nobility, probably burdened the aristocrats less than the king himself, being the person of highest status. It is doubtful whether kings in the age of absolutism really controlled their courts. Rather, the court is now seen as the arena where power was (re)negotiated and not always to the king's advantage. But the notion that absolutist claims in the "official" theory of kingship do not necessarily reflect absolutist power in actuality has yet to make its imprint on the field of ancient history.

In the introduction, Spawforth demonstrates that he is well aware of new developments in court studies, taking as his point of departure Elias as well as more recent research, notably the work of Jeroen Duindam.⁴ Spawforth defines a royal court broadly as "both the spatial framework of the ruler's existence and also the social configuration with which he shares that space", but with the important addition that this space was essentially a place for communication and negotiation: between on the one hand the ruler (and his entourage) and on the other hand various elites within the empire, envoys of foreign powers, and -- in the Late Roman and Han empires -- the state bureaucracy. In most cases, courtiers close to the king operated as brokers. A distinction is furthermore made between an inner court and an outer court. The first consists of the royal entourage (or household) that was permanently in the king's vicinity (including attendants and royal women), the second of those who were at court occasionally, particularly for specific 'great events' such as royal weddings or religious festivals. Another sensible notion is to consider the court as simultaneously a platform for political negotiations and monarchical representation. The latter aspect is neglected by Elias but forms an intrinsic component of Kruedener's model of the court. (Kruedener emphasized in particular the significance of the court for competition between kingdoms.)

From this well-considered methodological backdrop the contributors to the workshop were asked to reflect on two main questions: "whether it was legitimate to talk of a 'court' in the specific monarchy being discussed, and how crucial the ruler's court was for understanding the machinery of power in the double sense of actual decision-making and power's 'representation'" (p. 8). Issues to be considered were i.a. if there existed some contemporary notion of 'court', how courtiers were recruited, if a division into an inner and an outer court could be discerned, how physical access to the person of the king was articulated, and what symbolic meanings of the court surface in monarchical ritual and ceremonial.

The first contribution, by Maria Brosius, deals with the court of the Persian Achaemenids, discussing as well its Elamite, Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian precedents. Drawing on Achaemenid royal inscriptions, administrative cuneiform records (in particular the Persepolis Fortification Tablets), Greek historians and archaeology, Brosius discusses various aspects of the social composition and functioning of the court within its physical surroundings (the palaces of Susa, Ekbatana and, notably, Persepolis). Although apparently it remains difficult for the modern historian to make out the actual workings of power behind the smoke screen of the Persian "theatre of power" which presents the empire as a solid and harmonious unity and the king as a lofty autocrat in full control of the recruitment of his courtiers, Brosius reaches the interesting conclusion that through the court members of non-Persian elites were integrated in the empire. Whether this only "helped maintain the stability of the empire" (p. 56) or must also be seen in the context of a power struggle between the king and his Persian nobility remains an open question.

Josef Wiesehöfer's chapter on the court in the Sassanian Empire shows a keen awareness of the theoretical aspects of the study of the court. After a short history of the Sassanian monarchy and an overview of the (unbalanced and difficult to handle) sources, Wiesehöfer, too, discusses both the social composition of the court society as well as court ceremonial. In contrast to the Achaemenid Empire, the Sassanian Empire suffers from a relative lack of interest from modern historians and hence from a lack of secondary literature. Wiesehöfer contribution provides a preliminary survey of the evidence and concludes with recommendations for further research (e.g. on the interesting possibility of a mutual influence of Iranian and Byzantine court institutions) and an appeal for more archaeological research on Sassanian palace architecture and royal representation.

Tony Spawforth discusses aspects of the court culture of Alexander the Great, about which we are relatively well-informed. Focussing on public ceremonial, Spawforth places emphasis on the court's physical environment. Given the peripatetic nature of Alexander's court, and hence the absence of a central palace, royal receptions frequently took place in feasting- and audience-tents. Central to Spawforth's discussion is Alexander's gradual adoption of aspects of Achaemenid court ceremonial as a medium to consolidate his empire, in particular to pacify the Iranian aristocracy. As regards the success of Alexander's state-building Spawforth registers a non liquet because of the king's early death, but suggests (against the common opinion that Alexander was a failed empire-builder) that he could have been as successful in this respect as "his great predecessor in Asia as imperial conqueror, Cyrus the Great", had he ruled for about twenty-seven years, too.⁵ The chapter is followed by a collection of ancient texts describing audience-tents of Alexander and the Achaemenids, with translation and commentary.

The Roman imperial court is covered by two chapters. Jeremy Paterson deals with the creation and evolution of an imperial court in the early Principate, showing how court society, ceremonial and palace architecture developed from Hellenistic models to an ever-changing context for the negotiation of power between the emperor and various others. The principal argument is that the nature of imperial power did not fundamentally change in the course of the first century CE (often presented as "a gradual descent into absolutism" [p. 155]), but rather that the court changed and that the emperor adjusted his position within the court accordingly. This is one of the more successful contributions. With more sources at his disposal than Brosius, Wiesehöfer or even Spawforth, as well as a growing number of modern studies, Patterson offers an insightful analysis of the functioning of the Roman court. Rowland Smith then considers the 'absolutist' court in the later Roman empire (from Diocletian to the fall of the western empire), discussing the political context, palaces, the (changing) organization and social composition of the court elite, and, most extensively, court ceremonial and protocol. While showing that the development of the late Roman court was as dynamic as the early Roman court, Smith concludes that "Christianity did not exert a significant shaping influence on the structures and ceremonial of the court" (p. 231).

The chapter by Hans van Ess on the imperial court in Han China concentrates on the function of the court as a center for the brokerage of power. A typical feature of Han government was a conspicuous separation of bureaucracy and (inner) court, the latter coinciding with the palace. Originally, the outer court of magistrates and provincial administrator was composed mainly of members of the noble households, descendant from the retinue that helped the Han to attain power, who also monopolized court offices and thus dominated the emperor. From the accession of the emperor Wu in 141 BCE an examination system for career bureaucrats developed, giving the emperor more freedom in recruiting and manipulating officials, although from this professional bureaucracy eventually an oligarchy of powerful families developed, too.

The volume ends with a chapter by Kate Spence, who considers the court in pharaonic Egypt in the late Second Millennium BCE -- a difficult task since official royal texts rarely mention individuals other than the pharaoh: "building temples, fighting wars and performing ritual were recorded as historical events but were usually presented as if kings acted in isolation" (p. 267). Spence therefore focuses on the relatively well-documented court of the reformer Akhenaten at el-Amarna. As in most other ancient monarchies, courtiers in pharaonic Egypt doubled as administrators. Since priests played a crucial role in pharaonic administration, Spence interprets Akhenaten's abolition of the powerful priesthood of Amun -- normally considered as a religious measure -- as an effort by the king to shift the balance between himself and his officials, an active reform of the administration encountered more often in Egyptian history.

Overall, this volume is a valuable and stimulating contribution to the study of ancient politics. Its most striking feature is its coherence. The contributors really took to heart the preliminaries set out in the introduction, posing similar questions to divergent historical material, and often referring in-depth to theoretical literature on courts themselves.

Table of contents:

1.   Conspicuously absent are the empires of the Hellenistic period, the "missing link" between on the one hand the Ancient Near Eastern and Achaemenid kingdoms, and on the other hand the Roman (and Parthian) Empire. In the introduction Spawforth justifies the omission at some length. Of course his own contribution on the court of Alexander the Great is 'Hellenistic', especially since he focuses on the interplay between Macedonian and Iranian influences at the Argead court.
2.   N. Elias, Die höfische Gesellschaft. Untersuchungen zur Soziologie des Königtums und der höfischen Aristokratie (Neuwied and Berlin 1969); J. von Kruedener, Die Rolle des Hofes im Absolutismus (Stuttgart 1973).
3.   One notable exception is A. Winterling, who has worked on both early modern German courts and the court of the Roman Empire; especially relevant for the volume under review is his '"Hof": Versuch einer idealtypischen Bestimmung anhand der mittelalterlichen und neufrühzeitlichen Geschichte', in: R. Butz, J. Hirschbiegel and D. Willoweit eds., Hof und Theorie (Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 2004) 77-90.
4.   Myths of Power: Norbert Elias and the Early Modern European Court (Amsterdam 1995); Vienna and Versailles: The Courts of Europe's Dynastic Rivals, 1559-1780 (Cambridge 2003).
5.   The success that Seleukos Nikator later had in cultivating, and winning the active military support, of members of the Iranian nobility supports at least the potential viability of Alexander's Iranian policy. In particular Seleukos' marriage at Susa with the Baktrian-Iranian noblewoman Apama (at the instigation of Alexander) was most helpful in this respect; his successors continued to create bonds with Iranian royal families through dynastic marriage.

De nombreuses études récentes ont rappelé l'importance du premier siècle de notre ère dans l'histoire athénienne comme celui d'une transition vers une "Athènes romaine",¹ mais aucune synthèse d'envergure n'a encore été proposée au public depuis les travaux de Paul Graindor.² La documentation disponible, essentiellement épigraphique, s'est pourtant considérablement accrue, notamment grâce aux fouilles américaines de l'Agora et aux travaux des archéologues grecs; d'autre part, l'histoire de l'Orient grec au premier siècle ap. J.-C. comme la chronologie des archontes athéniens ont fait des progrès considérables, rendant nécessaire un réexamen de la documentation plus anciennement connue.

C'est donc ce double défi que s'est proposé de relever Geoffrey Schmalz, qui livre ici une première partie d'un travail conçu en deux volumes. L'auteur s'explique très clairement de cette démarche dans une courte introduction (p. 1-5): le présent volume avait d'abord été conçu comme une série d'annexes à une synthèse ("a narrative book") sur Athènes sous les Julio-Claudiens à paraître sous le titre Athens after Actium, A cultural Landscape between Hellenism and Rome, 31 B.C.-A.D. 68, mais devant l'ampleur que prenaient ces annexes, l'auteur a jugé plus opportun d'inverser l'ordre des choses en commençant par offrir une mise au point sur la documentation épigraphique et un catalogue prosopographique des Athéniens les plus influents de la période étudiée, qui serviraient de point d'appui à la synthèse annoncée.

Le sous-titre du livre A new epigraphy and prosopography a également une dimension programmatique: il rappelle, comme l'avaient fait ses prédécesseurs,³ combien l'histoire d'Athènes à l'époque impériale est redevable de ces sciences auxiliaires que sont l'épigraphie et la prosopographie. Face à une documentation littéraire réduite, éparse et partielle, l'épigraphie athénienne paraît en effet extrêmement riche: elle offre une variété et un stock sans cesse renouvelé de documents importants que la première partie du livre, consacrée à une révision des textes épigraphiques met particulièrement en valeur, autorisant ensuite un catalogue prosopographique des principaux acteurs de l'Athènes impériale.

La première partie, qui occupe la majeure partie du livre (p. 7-225), offre un catalogue raisonné des inscriptions athéniennes d'époque impériale qui ont été éditées après la parution des volumes de la seconde édition des Inscriptiones Graecae ou qui ont subi des corrections importantes depuis leur editio princeps ou leur parution dans les grands corpora, ainsi que celles pour lesquelles l'auteur propose un commentaire, une datation ou, plus rarement, une lecture, nouveaux. C'est-à-dire que le livre ne fournit pas une liste exhaustive des textes épigraphiques athéniens du Ier siècle -- entreprise qui eût relevé de la gageure dans le cadre d'un simple volume --, mais constitue un supplément qui vient compléter ou corriger les éditions antérieures des inscriptions citées. On ne saurait reprocher ce choix éditorial à l'auteur, mais il faut reconnaître que cela ne facilite pas toujours la lecture: de fait, le lecteur doit toujours consulter le livre lorsqu'il s'intéresse à telle ou telle inscription sans savoir à l'avance ce qu'il pourra y trouver, mais il peut facilement se reporter à la table des inscriptions étudiées, p. 327-337.

Le catalogue comporte un total de 298 entrées, dont les trois quarts sont constitués par des textes des Inscriptiones Graecae; une soixantaine de numéros correspondent à des inscriptions publiées postérieurement au corpus de Kirchner et principalement issues des fouilles de l'Agora. Les textes sont classés par catégories, trente-deux au total, suivant l'ordre des Inscriptiones Graecae pour l'essentiel, alors qu'elles mériteraient d'être regroupées en de plus vastes ensembles: le catalogue présente ainsi d'abord les documents publics, notamment les décrets, au sein desquels sont isolés les décrets en l'honneur des prytanes et les listes d'archontes, puis les catalogues, suivies des dédicaces et bases de statue, regroupées en fonction du statut ou de la nature des bénéficiaires. Au sein de chaque catégorie les textes sont rangés chronologiquement.

Chaque entrée comprend la référence sous laquelle le texte est le plus commodément accessible (IG, The Athenian Agora ou SEG), un court titre qui en indique le contenu et une date. Elle est suivie, le cas échéant, de trois rubriques qui renferment tout l'intérêt du livre et répondent aux objectifs initiaux de l'auteur: la première, "Edition(s)", sans constituer à proprement parler un lemme, donne la liste des nouvelles éditions et des principales publications consacrées au texte; la seconde, "Commentary", offre un résumé des résultats des nouvelles études de l'inscription mentionnées; la troisième, "New Analysis", rassemble les commentaires personnels et les suggestions de l'auteur. Si l'utilité des deux premières rubriques n'est pas contestable -- elles rendront bien des services -, il ne fait guère de doute que c'est cette dernière rubrique qui intéressera le plus les lecteurs, Schmalz proposant fréquemment pour les textes qu'il cite de nouvelles interprétations ou datations, ainsi que des rapprochements prosopographiques suggestifs.

Ces commentaires, impossibles à résumer car trop nombreux et souvent ponctuels, font du livre un instrument de travail précieux. On regrettera simplement leur caractère quelque peu elliptique, le lecteur ayant souvent l'impression de lire des notes personnelles de Schmalz, où celui-ci ne développe que très rarement sa pensée, et notamment les conséquences de ses suggestions pour notre compréhension de l'histoire athénienne. Cela s'explique probablement parce que, contrairement à l'auteur, le lecteur ne dispose pas encore de la synthèse annoncée; nul doute que sa parution rendra plus évidentes nombre de remarques de G. S.

La seconde partie (p. 227-318) se présente sous la forme d'un catalogue (alphabétique latin) d'environ 120 personnages issus des inscriptions mentionnées dans la première partie. Chaque notice comprend les renvois bibliographiques, la liste des testimonia, un rappel de l'activité du personnage et un commentaire sur sa famille. Cette partie comprend également nombre de remarques intéressantes, de nouveaux stemmata, des reconstitutions de carrière novatrices...Si on y retrouve, de fait, les Athéniens les plus en vue de la période considérée, le choix d'exclure ou d'inclure un personnage mériterait davantage d'explications. De même, on comprend mal pourquoi l'auteur fait le choix de ne pas toujours discuter pour un même personnage, l'ensemble des testimonia,⁴ ou de ne pas parfois prendre en compte les continuités familiales entre la basse époque hellénistique et le début l'époque impériale.⁵

Le catalogue débouche sur un tableau des principaux magistrats et prêtres athéniens de la période (p. 319-325). Il s'achève par une concordance entre les textes épigraphiques étudiés dans la première partie et les publications antérieures (p. 327-337) et par une riche bibliographie (p. 339-349), suivie de plusieurs indices (p. 351-369) des noms, termes et inscriptions cités dans la première partie. Ces indices rendent le livre plus maniable, mais on regrettera que l'ensemble des textes et des personnages cités dans la deuxième partie n'aient pas fait l'objet d'une indexation systématique.

Au total, le livre de G. Schmalz réunit une masse d'informations considérable et suggère de nombreuses pistes nouvelles et utiles. On pourra bien sûr reprocher à l'auteur telle ou telle de ses interprétations, de rares coquilles,⁶ ou des oublis dans la bibliographie,⁷ difficiles à éviter dans ce genre d'études; on pourra s'interroger sur tel ou tel de ses choix méthodologiques; il n'en demeure pas moins que ce livre constitue un ouvrage qui se rendra vite indispensable aux épigraphistes et aux historiens qui s'intéressent à l'Athènes impériale. Il le sera davantage encore, lorsque l'on pourra le consulter avec la synthèse promise, laquelle lui donnera tout son sens.

1.   Voir en particulier M. C. Hoff et S. I. Rotroff (éds.), The Romanization of Athens, Oxford (Oxbow Monographs, 94), 1997; P. Baldassari, ΣΕΒΑΣΤΩΙ ΣΩΤΗΡΙ. Edilizia monumentale ad Atene durante il "Saeculum Augustum", Rome (Archeologica, 124), 1998; F. Lozano, La Religión del Poder. El culto imperial en Atenas en época de Augusto y los emperadores Julio-Claudios, Oxford (BAR, 1087), 2002.
2.   P. Graindor, Athènes sous Auguste, Le Caire (Recueils de travaux publiés la faculté des Lettres, 1), 1927. Id., Athènes de Tibère à Trajan, Le Caire (Recueils de travaux publiés la faculté des Lettres, 8), 1931.
3.   Cf. S. G. Byrne, Roman Citizen of Athens, Louvain-Dudley (Studia Hellenistica, 40), 2003, et déjà, pour les IIe et IIIe siècles p. C., la belle étude de S. Follet, Athènes au IIe et IIIe siècle, Etudes chronologiques et prosopographiques, Paris, 1976.
4.   Voir par exemple pour Papios de Marathon, S. G. Byrne, Roman Citizens, p. 393-394, qui cite plusieurs autres documents.
5.   Par exemple pour Polykritos d'Azènia (p. 303) dont la famille est connue depuis le IIe siècle; ou pour Théoxénos [et non Théoxenès, p. 313], fils de Démétrios d'Acharnes dont la famille n'est pas "unknown" (un éphèbe de 107/6 porte le nom de Démétrios, fils de Théoxénos d'Acharnes: IG II2, 1011, III, 96).
6.   Exempli gratia: p. 114, IG XII 3, 1392 est de Théra, non de Thasos; p. 313, le nom du zacore est Théoxénos, non Théoxenès.
7.   Cf. en particulier l'ouvrage de F. Lozano, cité supra, note 1, qui s'intéresse à plusieurs personnages, prêtre du culte impérial, et cite de nombreux textes étudiés ici (avec photographie parfois, par ex. pour le no. 140, p. 110, qui rend peu probable la nouvelle restitution proposée par G. S.).

Lo scritto ippocratico Natura della donna (d'ora in poi Nat. Mul.) ha beneficiato, a partire dalla edizione di E. Littré (Paris 1851),¹ di una lunga e intensa attività sia editoriale-esegetica: i lavori di Ermerins (Utrecht 1862),² Trapp (Hamburg 1967),³ Andò (Milano 2000);⁴ sia storico-critica: le ricerche di Jouanna (Paris 1974)⁵ e di Grensemann (Berlin 1975; Stuttgart 1987).⁶ È in questo nutrito filone di studi che si pone la nuova edizione greco-francese di F. Bourbon (d'ora in poi B.).

Nata da una tesi di dottorato sotto la guida di J. Jouanna, l'edizione di B. si compone di Notice articolata in tre sezioni: Structure, contenu et rédactions parallèles (pp. VIII-LXI), La gynécologie : une spécialité médicale? (pp. LXI-LXXIX), La tradition du texte (pp. LXXIX-CXXXVII); Conspectus siglorum (pp. CXXXVIII-CXLI); testo critico greco con traduzione francese a fronte (pp. 1-96, doppie); Notes complémentaires (pp. 97-218); Liste des ouvrages cités dans la notice et le commentaire (pp. 219-233); Lexique des substances pharmaceutiques (pp. 234-240); Index des noms français de substances botaniques (pp. 241-246); Index verborum (pp. 247-277).

Secondo la teoria prevalente, all'interno del Corpus ippocratico (= CH) Nat. Mul. costituisce insieme al gruppo di trattati ginecologici Malattie delle donne I (= Mul. I), Malattie delle donne II (= Mul. II), Donne sterili (=Steril.), e ai trattati nosologici Malattie II, Malattie III, Affezioni interne, un'opera della scuola di Cnido, o almeno che utilizza materiale cnidio. Gli scritti ginecologici come quelli nosologici, infatti, oltre a presentare redazioni parallele che sembrano derivare in tutto o in parte da un modello comune, mostrano alcune affinità con quello che le testimonianze dirette e indirette ci dicono della medicina cnidia. La parentela tra tutti questi scritti è riconoscibile soprattutto nella struttura dell'esposizione che procede secondo uno schema costante di notizie sulle diverse malattie o varietà di malattie: descrizione dei sintomi, prognosi, terapia.⁷

In particolare, Nat. Mul. è composto di schede sulle malattie delle donne. Ad esse un compilatore avrebbe successivamente aggiunto un prologo in prima persona (cfr. 1. 1 περὶ δὲ τῆς γυναικείης φύσιος καὶ νοσημάτων τάδε λέγω; 1. 3 ἄρξομαι δὲ διδάσκων ἀπὸ τοῦ ὑγροῦ κατὰφύσιν),⁸ adattando al nuovo contesto un passo di Mul. II 111 nel quale però non ricorre né la prima persona né quella considerazione sul divino che, in totale disaccordo con l'autore di Male sacro 1. 7 (VI 358, 10 Littré = 6, 11-12 Jouanna), percorre il primo capitolo di Nat. Mul. (cfr. 1. 1; 2), senza poi ritornare nel seguito del discorso. Il trattato consta di due parti, comprendenti rispettivamente i cc. 2-34 e 35-109. Ciascuna di queste due parti è formata da una serie di malattie che si conclude con un lungo elenco di rimedi. La sequenza di tali unità testuali è del tutto asistematica, il che fa di Nat. Mul. una base di dati piuttosto caotica. È comunque un dato di fatto ormai acquisito la distinzione tra una natura femminile e una maschile. Del resto, già l'autore di Mul. I, al capitolo 62 (VIII 126, 14-19 Littré), denuncia quei medici che commettono l'errore di non informarsi con esattezza riguardo alla causa della malattia di una donna, ma di trattare questa alla stregua di quella di un uomo provocando così la morte della donna stessa. Come scrive B. a p. LXXVI, le donne vengono guarite da medici uomini, verosimilmente assistiti da una seconda donna nel compiere manipolazioni piuttosto delicate. Inoltre, una certa inesperienza del medico di fronte alla specificità delle malattie femminili rende necessaria la comunicazione fra il medico e la malata e fra il medico e le altre donne alle quali per pudore la malata si sarebbe rivolta in precedenza (cfr. Mul. I 62 [VIII 126, 12-14 Littré]).

La quasi totalità delle malattie descritte in Nat. Mul. ha una redazione parallela, talvolta anche due, negli altri trattati ginecologici (Mul. I, Mul. II, Steril.). Questo dato di fatto pone il problema del rapporto di questi scritti tra di loro o di una reciproca dipendenza. Dopo Littré il quale ritenne Nat. Mul. un estratto diretto dagli altri tre scritti ginecologici del CH ⁹, l'orientamento prevalente nella critica (Ermerins, Jurk,¹⁰ Ilberg,¹¹ Trapp),¹² è stato quello di postulare una fonte comune più antica per tutto il gruppo degli scritti ginecologici.

Nonostante la fonte comune, divergenze di lessico, di stile e, soprattutto, di dottrina scientifica in Mul. I e Mul. II hanno consentito a Grensemann di individuare in questi due trattati tre differenti strati, A (lo strato più antico, in seguito ulteriormente differenziato in A1 e A2), B e C.¹³ In particolare, per quanto riguarda Nat. Mul., le sue due parti (cc. 2-34 e 35-109), sono scritti indipendenti di due autori diversi: la seconda parte, più antica, corrisponderebbe allo stadio A1 degli altri due scritti ginecologici; la prima, invece, allo stadio A2. Ma l'assoluta indipendenza di Nat. Mul. da Mul. I e Mul. II risulta provata dal fatto che il primo da solo contiene, invero pochi, testi di A assenti negli altri due trattati (i quali a loro volta ne contengono altri mancanti in Nat. Mul.), e a volte più dettagliati dei corrispondenti in Mul. I e Mul. II. Se, dunque, è possibile riconoscere segmenti di testo paralleli negli scritti ginecologici, essi nel complesso hanno subito nella loro trasmissione mutamenti tali che redazioni antiche risultano ora sovrapposte in parti più recenti.

Rispetto ai precedenti contributi sulla storia del testo e la genesi di Nat. Mul. la posizione di B. è, preservando beninteso l'originalità di questo scritto, quella di ricorrere alle redazioni parallele con spirito critico e nella consapevolezza di una aleatorietà dovuta e ai diversi livelli di scrittura e alle particolari vicende di trasmissione dei singoli trattati ginecologici. Ad ogni modo, delle acquisizioni di Grensemann sulla stratigrafia di codesti scritti del CH B. tiene debitamente conto nella costituzione del testo di Nat. Mul. e, ancor prima, nella Notice l'apporto di tali scritti è discusso in apertura (pp. CX-CXXIII) del secondo capitoletto, sulla tradizione indiretta, che insieme agli altri tre, rispettivamente sulla tradizione diretta sulla tradizione a stampa sui criteri editoriali, strutturano la terza sezione della Notice dedicata, come già detto, alla storia del testo. Tuttavia, la mancanza di moderne edizioni, criticamente costituite, per Mul. I, Mul. II, Steril. pone all'editore nel momento in cui se ne serve, alcune difficoltà.¹⁴ Ma è certo merito non piccolo di B. aver proceduto, nell'esame di questa tradizione indiretta, a una nuova collazione dei trattati ginecologici sui codici greci più antichi.

La riesplorazione completa della tradizione manoscritta antica di Nat. Mul. (i codici Marc. gr. 269 del sec. X [= M], Vindob. med. gr. 4 del sec. XI [= θ], Vat. gr. 276 del sec. XII [= V]), nonché degli apografi di M -- Paris. gr. 2140 (XIII sec.), Vat. gr. 277 (XIV sec.), Paris. gr. 2142 (XIV sec.) --, usati per recuperare il testo del c. 109. 12-27 caduto in lacuna nell'antigrafo, ha permesso a B. di rettificare gravi inesattezze dello stemma proposto nella precedente edizione di Trapp. Secondo la ricostruzione stemmatica di quest'ultima studiosa, infatti, i tre manoscritti antichi di Nat. Mul., discendenti di un medesimo archetipo, sarebbero mutuamente indipendenti. Questo, come vide già Klaus Alpers, è falso. Al contrario la tradizione antica del testo pur presupponendo un unico archetipo, isola M e V contro θ.¹⁵ La recensione dei manoscritti antichi ha, inoltre, condotto B. a uno studio sistematico degli errori di maiuscola determinanti sia nella ricostruzione dell'archetipo sia nella descrizione dei reciproci legami di parentela tra i suoi derivati (pp. LXXXIV-XCIX). Le scelte testuali di B. si fondano generalmente sullo stemma tracciato a p. CXXI in base al quale da una fonte ginecologica comune deriverebbero sia Nat. Mul. i cui portatori di tradizione M, θ e V stanno tra loro così come testé indicato, sia Mul. I e Mul. II per i quali i medesimi codici stanno nello stesso rapporto di parentela. Nonostante tutto, la possibilità di ricorrere allo stemma non è sempre garantita a causa sia di grosse lacune che sfigurano oltre M, come già ricordato, anche θ ai cc. 96-109 e V ai cc. 32. 100-35 (e, a differenza di M, non sono noti apografi di θ e V che possano sanare tali lacune),¹⁶ sia di comportamenti piuttosto problematici da parte di M e V all'interno dello stemma. Si registrano, infatti, errori separativi contro il resto della tradizione da parte di V (pp. LXXXIX-XCIII) e di M (pp. XCIII-XCIX). Una spiegazione del comportamento problematico di M l'aveva avanzata V. Schmidt confrontando la versione latina di Nat. Mul. nel Paris. lat. 11219 del sec. IX (= P) con la tradizione greca antica. Da tale confronto è emerso che P, pur assai affine a M così da far postulare un iparchetipo comune, risulta tuttavia indipendente dall'archetipo dei codici greci. Schmidt interpreta questa circostanza ammettendo l'esistenza di "zwei Archetypen" i quali risulterebbero contaminati in M.¹⁷

In tutti questi casi B. procede con equilibrio e buon senso. In effetti, all'interno di uno stemma che schiera i codici M e V contro θ, gli accordi in errore di θ e M e di θ e V possono riflettere lo stato fluttuante dell'archetipo. Segnalo qui, per es., il recupero, in base a nuovo ragionamento stemmatico, a p. 3, 6 B. di un δέ apodotico, tràdito unicamente da θ e V, che i precedenti editori avevano omesso in accordo con M.

Esaminerò ora nei dettagli alcuni punti del testo greco per i quali è, a mio avviso, possibile muovere obiezioni alle scelte di B. Prima di procedere va espressamente sottolineato il fatto che il testo greco si segnala all'attenzione del lettore per la mancanza di refusi.¹⁸

A p. 7, 3-4 B. stampa: ὁκόταν ὁ χρόνος ἐγγένηται, οὐ θέλουσιν ἐς χώρην ἰέναι, ricavando la lezione χρόνος da Mul. II 144, laddove l'archetipo di Nat. Mul. avrebbe πόνος concordemente tràdito da θ, M e V. Mi chiedo allora se per coerenza con Mul. II non si debba espungere l'articolo ὁ di cui la redazione parallela è priva. Del resto, a 12, 10 B. si legge ὁκόταν δὲχρόνος ἐγγένηται, attestato in tutti e tre i testimoni di tradizione diretta.

A p. 9, 8-9 B. stampa: ἐπὴν δὲ ἡ ὀδύνη παύσηται ἅπαξ, ἐούσης ἐπὶ τὸ ὑγιὲς ἰσχίον. Crea problemi interpungere dopo l'avverbio ἅπαξ e tradurre come fa B., une fois que la malade n'éprouve plus de douleur quand elle se tient sur. . .. Il nesso ἐπὴν. . . ἅπαξ ha, infatti, il significato di una volta che solo quando questo avverbio segue la congiunzione temporale, cfr. nel caso del CH i due esempi, registrati nell'Index Hippocraticus,¹⁹ di Loc. Hom. VI 292, 13 Littré (= 48, 4-5 Joly) e Morb. IV VII 594, 20 Littré (= 114, 8 Joly). Proporrei pertanto di interpungere dopo παύσηται e legare così l'avverbio al participio ἐούσης, traducendolo una volta che sia. . .. L'uso di ἅπαξ con il participio, anche in genitivo assoluto, è ampiamente documentato dal lessico LSJ s.v. II; quest'uso tuttavia rimane un hapax nel CH.

Sempre a p. 9, 12 B. dopo ταύτης si potrebbe prendere in considerazione l'ipotesi di integrare τῆς νούσου sulla base del parallelo di 10, 12-13 B.

A p. 17, 16 B. mutua, come si evince dall'apparato ad loc., la lezione ὑπὸ βίης σμικρός unicamente dalla redazione parallela di Mul. II 131. Mi chiedo se non sia meglio informare il lettore già prima nel testo, stampando il restauro tra parentesi uncinate.

A p. 20, 13-14 B.: φάρμακον χρὴ πιπίσκειν καὶ ἄνω τε καὶ κάτω, fa difficoltà il primo καί. In tutti gli altri esempi del trattato al verbo πιπίσκω seguono immediatamente gli avverbi κάτω e ἄνω, cfr. 2. 3; 6. 3; 10. 3; 11. 3; 14. 2 e 3; 20. 2; 38. 2; 39. 2; 41. 2. Né, credo, si possa qui invocare l'uso di καὶ. . . τε nel significato di inoltre.²⁰ Espungerei pertanto il καὶ, prodottosi forse per diplografia dal precedente πιπίσκειν in un esemplare in maiuscola anteriore all'archetipo.

A p. 21, 13 B. stampa καὶ πυριῆν prendendo la congiunzione dalla sola redazione parallela di Mul. I 58. Valga anche in questo caso quanto osservato sopra a proposito di 17, 16.

Il testo critico è corredato di un apparato dei testimoni e dell'apparato critico vero e proprio. Quest'ultimo registra con abbondanza errori di ortografia, errori di iotacismo, presenza o assenza di ν efelcistico, nonché emendamenti e congetture dei precedenti filologi ippocratici. Alcune sviste sono alle pp. 9, 16 (l'apparato critico informa dell'omissione di ἡ da parte dei codici θ e V, ma in realtà ad omettere l'articolo sono θ e M); 50, 13 (l'apparato segnala anche il codice V per la lezione ὑγραῖσι, ma nel testimone vaticano questa parte è caduta in lacuna); 51, 10 (l'apparato non informa dell'espunzione di μή da parte di Cornarius, espunzione accolta da B. a testo; la notizia è riportata solo nella corrispondente nota 6, p. 178, del commentario).

La traduzione francese intende riprodurre il dettato dell'originale. Le note di commento sono sia di tipo filologico sia storico-antiquario. In particolare, le prime espongono, sempre con grande lucidità, i termini dei problemi che di volta in volta il testo greco pone agevolando così la lettura dell'apparato critico e la comprensione delle scelte operate nel testo dall'editore.

In conclusione, la nuova edizione di B. è senz'altro un lavoro utile e pregevole, che offre un contributo significativo alla filologia dei testi ippocratici.

1.   Oeuvres complètes d'Hippocrate, par É. Littré, t. VII pp. 310-431, Paris 1851 (rist. anastat. Amsterdam 1962).
2.   Hippocratis et aliorum medicorum veterum reliquiae, ed. F.Z. Ermerins, vol. 2 pp. 825-899, Traiecti ad Rhenum 1862.
3.   H. Trapp, Die hippokratische Schrift De natura muliebri. Ausgabe und textkritischer Kommentar, Diss. phil., Hamburg 1967.
4.   V. Andò, Ippocrate. Natura della donna, Milano 2000.
5.   J. Jouanna, Hippocrate. Pour une archéologie de l'école de Cnide, Paris 1974.
6.   H. Grensemann, Knidische Medizin. Teil I: Die Testimonien zur ältesten knidischen Lehre und Analysen knidischer Schriften im Corpus Hippocraticum, Berlin - New York 1975; Id., Knidische Medizin. Teil II: Versuch einer weiteren Analyse der Schicht A in den pseudohippokratischen Schriften De natura muliebri und De muliebribus I und II, Stuttgart 1987.
7.   Alcuni studiosi però non credono che si possa stabilire, almeno sulla base della documentazione pervenutaci, una sostanziale differenza tra una scuola medica di Cos e una di Cnido. Cfr. J. Kollesch, "Knidos als Zentrum der frühen wissenschaftlichen Medizin im antiken Griechenland", Gesnerus 46 (1989), pp. 11-28; V. Langholf, "Structure and Genesis of Some Hippocratic Treatises", in: H.F.J. Horstmanshoff - M. Stol - C.R. Van Tilburg (edd.), Magic and Rationality in Ancient Near Eastern and Graeco-Roman Medicine, Leiden - Boston 2004, pp. 219-275. Precedentemente una posizione meno chiara, ma improntata sostanzialmente a scetticismo, aveva assunto in merito W.D. Smith, "Galen on Coans versus Cnidians", Bulletin of the History of Medicine, 47 (1973), pp. 569-585.
8.   L'irruzione della prima persona nel capitolo, seriore, di apertura di Nat. Mul. mostra la volontà da parte del compilatore di evidenziare esplicitamente i tagli e la selezione del materiale dalla fonte ginecologica preesistente di cui si dirà infra. Nella seconda parte dell'opera, invece, il compilatore segnala gli snodi della trattazione mediante il riferimento alla scrittura: a 34b. 12; 37. 3; 41. 2; 44. 3; 45. 3; 46. 2; 107. 2 ricorre, infatti, il perfetto γέγραπται. Tale presenza autoriale ricorda quella, ben più pervasiva, nei trattati Malattie IV, Fratture e Articolazioni, per cui cfr. A. Roselli, "Strategie espositive nei trattati ippocratici: presenza autoriale e piano espositivo in Malattie IV e in Fratture e Articolazioni", in M.M. Sassi (ed.), La costruzione del discorso filosofico nell'età dei Presocratici, Pisa 2006, pp. 259-283.
9.   Cfr. Littré, vol. VII p. 310.
10.   J. Jurk, Ramenta hippocratea, Diss. phil., Berlin 1900.
11.   J. Ilberg, Die Ärzteschule von Knidos, Berichte über die Verhandlungen der Sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Leipzig, phil.-hist. Klasse 76/3 (1924), Leipzig 1925.
12.   Trapp, tuttavia, considera fonte diretta di Nat. Mul. un antecedente degli scritti Mul. I e Mul. II a motivo delle divergenze tra le parti di testo comparabili tra i tre, cfr. Trapp, pp. 24-56.
13.   Cfr. Grensemann 1975, pp. 82-142.
14.   Degli scritti ginecologici si dispone tuttora solo parzialmente di un'edizione critica nei lavori di Grensemann nonché in N. Countouris, Hippokratische Gynäkologie. Die gynäkologischen Texte des Autors B nach den pseudohippokratischen Schriften De muliebribus I und II, Diss., Hamburg 1985.
15.   K. Alpers, "Apollonios von Kition und die Hippokratesüberlieferung", Medizinhistorisches Journal 4/1 (1969), pp. 69-72: 71-72. Alla medesima conclusione è giunto, indipendentemente, anche J. Jouanna (cfr. Archéologie, p. 168 n. 4), per il quale modello comune di M e V fu un codice in maiuscola e la separazione dei due rami tradizionali, M e V appunto, si è dovuta produrre anteriormente all'epoca della translitterazione.
16.   Da θ non pare discendere alcun manoscritto superstite, mentre gli apografi di V, Paris. gr. 2146 del sec. XV, Vat. Pal. gr. 192 del sec. XV e Bodl. Holkam. gr. 92 del sec. XVI, riproducono la medesima lacuna del loro antigrafo.
17.   Cfr. l'edizione tedesca (nella traduzione di D. Irmer) di S. Timpanaro, Die Entstehung der Lachmannschen Methode, Hamburg 1971, p. 59 n. 173.
18.   Va tuttavia notato che in due casi (p. 8, 18; 16, 4) B. adotta per il verbo ἀποθνῄσκω la medesima grafia delle edizioni precedenti, senza cioè iota sottoscritto. Tale scelta avrebbe, forse, meritato qualche parola di chiarimento nel commentario per comodità del lettore.
19.   Cfr. J.-H. Kühn - U. Fleischer - K. Alpers - A. Anastassiou - D. Irmer - V. Schmidt, Index Hippocraticus, Göttingen 1989, s.v. II.
20.   Cfr. J.D. Denniston, The Greek Particles, Oxford 1954, s.v. τε III. 1, pp. 535-536.