Thursday, September 21, 2017

2017.09.40

Peter A. O'Connell, The Rhetoric of Seeing in Attic Forensic Oratory. Ashley and Peter Larkin Series in Greek and Roman Culture. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2017. Pp. xviii, 282. ISBN 9781477311684. $55.00.

Reviewed by Guy Westwood, Merton College, Oxford (guy.westwood@classics.ox.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Peter O'Connell's book is part of a flurry of recent scholarship on the performance aspects of classical Athenian oratory (previously an understudied area). Its concerns (and its treatment of them) both echo and complement those of other recent publications.1 Focused on a single theme (the persuasive potential of visualization techniques) and on a single genre (Athenian lawcourt oratory), it is a clearly argued, concise, and accessible work that makes a worthwhile contribution to the study of the specific phenomena it discusses and to our understanding of the persuasive strategies deployed in Classical Athenian trials in general.

O'Connell approaches the task of recapturing the elusive performance dimension of lawcourt oratory by studying the language of real and imagined sight in selected speeches from the large surviving corpus: that is, how litigants manipulate jurors' (and audience members') interpretations of the people and things that they actually see in court, and encourage them to visualize other people and things not physically present. His overall aim is to explore the persuasive possibilities of visual discourse, and his contention is essentially that it plays an important and dynamic role in this genre, something he demonstrates successfully. This demonstration comes from three main angles, reflected in the division of the bulk of the book into three parts. In each part, the argument proceeds mainly via the examination of a handful of related case-studies. Seven of the canonical ten orators feature in these (Lysias and Demosthenes predictably looming large); the endnotes frequently offer parallels for a given phenomenon in other speeches beyond those directly discussed.2 In Part 1 (chs. 1–2, pp. 25–79), O'Connell treats examples of how litigants capitalize on Athenian cultural assumptions about personal appearance and gesture in order to discredit their opponents or bolster their own credibility. Gesture (chapter 2) is particularly well handled—O'Connell concludes that speakers who conducted themselves in restrained, natural ways were most likely to succeed (pp. 60–1), but he makes the important allowance that more adventurous deportment was a choice that skilled orators could and did make to mark themselves out for a mass popular audience (pp. 67, 70, 78–9), a high- stakes manoeuvre because it offered rivals an attack route (pp. 68–74, 78). This is all reinforced by one of the most telling examples available, Aeschines 1.26 (supported by Demosthenes' response in Dem. 19) (pp. 74–9). Part 2 (chs. 3–4, pp. 83–118) deepens the analysis. Chapter 3 carefully and accurately establishes 'the Athenian preference for visual evidence' that had been advertised in the Introduction (p. 7), and explores the range and application of the vocabulary of showing and seeing by which speakers typically encourage jurors to become quasi-witnesses to the events being described. Chapter 4 then shows how this all works out in practice. In Part 3 (chs. 5–6, pp. 121–68), perhaps the most interesting section of the book, O'Connell continues to apply the insights developed in Part 2 but now focuses on imaginary sight. Chapter 5 begins with a handy introduction to enargeia (pp. 124–7) and then deals with three main case-studies (from Aeschines 3, Demosthenes 19, and Lycurgus 1), all set pieces focusing on civic suffering where the plight of the Theban, Phocian, or Athenian citizens concerned becomes a means of engaging the emotions of the jurors and conferring quasi-witness status on them. All three case-study passages are treated with sensitivity, and there are some sharp individual observations (for example on the effect of word order, p. 133). This chapter also sees deft and illuminating use of scholia (e.g. pp. 134–5, cf. 142–3). Chapter 6 moves to explore examples both of speakers' persuasive use of internal audiences as guides for the jurors' own reactions and also, interestingly (and in the book's most substantial case-study), of what orators (can) do when the conjuring up of an internal audience is ruled out by circumstantial factors: both Lysias's client in Against Andocides and Andocides in On the Mysteries appeal to other aspects of civic experience (initiation at Eleusis; Andocides' own noble ancestors) to guide jurors to the formation of mental images that will reflect badly or well on the defendant, as appropriate. By the Conclusion, we have a strong and varied sense of the potential of visualization techniques for effective rhetorical manipulation in Athenian trials.

Throughout the book, O'Connell pursues his arguments clearly, readably, logically, and with appropriate selection from the numerous examples available. The main questions that arise for this reviewer are about emphasis and balance. They are probably inevitable when the project is the surveying of a major theme in a large and diverse corpus, and the following points should not be read as detracting in any kind of fundamental way from the positive assessment offered so far.

A key strength of the book is its accessibility for readers unfamiliar with Attic forensic oratory as a genre—O'Connell explains numerous technical terms (e.g. bema and klepsydra at p. 14, diatyposis at p. 134), and the outline in the Introduction of what an Athenian court may have felt like (pp. 13–17) is not only helpful for such readers but also sets the scene for the argument in an effective way (the same goes for the occasional stimulating parallels with American trials: e.g. pp. 20–2, 25–6). Some valuable links with other Greek prose genres and authors (some of them non-oratorical) are also made and pursued, as for example with Thucydides 7 in chapter 6 (pp. 144–6). By setting aside space for these, O'Connell undoubtedly increases the book's value as a contribution to the (so far largely piecemeal) scholarly exploration of the orators as figures alive to the rhetorical potential of exploiting a wide range of literary texts. But the book would have profited from more of this. Its compactness (which I realize may be partly a series requirement) is at once an asset (O'Connell is able to set things up, make his case cleanly, and conclude in 166 pages of main text) and a difficulty. Epideictic oratory makes two brief guest appearances (pp. 117 and 146–8), and there is even less about deliberative oratory (beyond pp. 59–60). It would have been valuable to know more about whether O'Connell thinks the dynamics he identifies in forensic oratory apply in these cognate genres to the same extent, and if not, why not. In a similar vein, further discussion would have been welcome on the issue of whether visual strategies are more appropriate to some types of legal action rather than others, and why (this is raised briefly a few times, e.g. p. 51). Some of the individual case-studies are also too cursory, and sometimes O'Connell gives a sense of how the themes of sight and visualization contribute to a particular speech's overall rhetorical strategy without giving himself the space to elaborate. Another casualty in this area is the chance to give the reader more than a very brief sense of whether there are detectable differences between different orators' practice in deploying visualization techniques (though see e.g. pp. 51 and 127), and why those might exist. One implication of O'Connell's argument is that the rhetorical manipulation of sight and visualization gave orators particular scope to indulge their individual creativity to produce striking and memorable images for their audiences, but the opportunity to develop this aspect properly is not taken; and while O'Connell rightly points out that speakers clearly differ in their handling of these techniques ('while manipulation of the jurors' imaginations is a frequent tactic, all litigants and speechwriters approach it in a slightly different way', p. 167), there is still a risk that the reader will take away an impression that the similarities between speakers' treatments are much more important than the differences ('the individual strategies I have discussed are all variations on the same theme, however', p. 167 again). The aims of the techniques he describes would of course be broadly similar from litigant to litigant (i.e. seeking a condemnation or an acquittal), but it would be essential for the task of successful persuasion that the means of delivery were distinctive enough to engage the jurors, who would know the usual techniques, would be on the look-out for them, and would be able to see through them if they were not packaged compellingly. The speech synopses in O'Connell's useful Appendix (pp. 175–89) would have profited from a little more detail on questions of authenticity and genuineness, as the catalogue includes some speeches whose authenticity has been questioned (Lys. 6, 9, 20, 23; Dem. 42, 43, 47, 48) and one, pseudo-Demosthenes 25 (p. 179, featured in the main text at pp. 46–7), which is still widely regarded as unlikely to be a genuine product of the fourth century.3 The discussion of the status of the extant speech texts, in the Introduction (pp. 7–8), could also have been both fuller and more precise (e.g. our texts are 'records of…actual court performances' (p. 7, cf. p. 3) only in the rather loose sense that most represent speeches made at real trials). Finally, and on a more minor issue, O'Connell misses the opportunity for further comment on the intriguing verb peri(h)oran, which he features briefly in one of his chapter 5 case-studies (drawing it from Dem. 19.64, mentioned at p. 133). It often appears in rhetorical contexts where there is (or was) an identifiable or implied internal audience of people who could suffer, did suffer, or could have suffered as a result of the external audience's decision now or in the past,4 and some further discussion of the phenomenon would have helped to reinforce O'Connell's case in Part 3.

These points aside, though, this book should be welcomed as an articulate, thought-provoking exploration of a fascinating and rich topic not hitherto treated in the synoptic compass that O'Connell offers us here. It will be of interest to a wide readership.

Production quality is high and the book is easy to use. Typographical and other minor errors are quite rare. I detected one each on pp. xi, 1, 15, 44, 75, 77, 111, 113, 163, 197, 221, 228, and 250, and two on p. 239.



Notes:


1.   Most recently A. Serafim, Attic Oratory and Performance (London; New York, 2017) and S. Papaioannou et al. (eds.), The Theatre of Justice: Aspects of Performance in Greco-Roman Oratory and Rhetoric (Leiden/Boston, 2017). J. Hall, Cicero's Use of Judicial Theater (Ann Arbor, 2014) offers interesting cross-cultural comparison.
2.   O'Connell has himself offered a further, complementary, case-study in a recent freestanding article: 'The Rhetoric of Visibility and Invisibility in Antiphon 5, On the Murder of Herodes', Classical Quarterly 66 (2016): 46–58.
3.   O'Connell endorses [Dem.] 25's authenticity in two brief footnotes (p. 201, n. 82; p. 214, n. 5). Both of the scholars he cites (D. M. MacDowell and G. Martin) are inclined to accept the speech at least as a genuine fourth-century product, but the long history (and present reality) of scholarly disquiet probably needed some acknowledgement. E. M. Harris will argue against a fourth-century genesis for either of the Against Aristogeiton speeches in his forthcoming volume Demosthenes 23–26 (Austin, 2018); see also R. Sealey in Appendix 2 of Demosthenes and His Time (New York; Oxford, 1993), pp. 237–9.
4.   See e.g. Dem. 9.29, 16.25 (twice), 18.99, 19.84. A good vivid example of an allied visual technique—the conjuring of an internal audience who will criticize or blame the external audience later if they make a bad decision in this case, like the angry dead mentioned by O'Connell (p. 166)—is the quotation from an Assembly speech by Cydias given by Aristotle in Rhetoric Book 2 (1384b32–5).

(read complete article)

2017.09.40

Peter A. O'Connell, The Rhetoric of Seeing in Attic Forensic Oratory. Ashley and Peter Larkin Series in Greek and Roman Culture. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2017. Pp. xviii, 282. ISBN 9781477311684. $55.00.

Reviewed by Guy Westwood, Merton College, Oxford (guy.westwood@classics.ox.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Peter O'Connell's book is part of a flurry of recent scholarship on the performance aspects of classical Athenian oratory (previously an understudied area). Its concerns (and its treatment of them) both echo and complement those of other recent publications.1 Focused on a single theme (the persuasive potential of visualization techniques) and on a single genre (Athenian lawcourt oratory), it is a clearly argued, concise, and accessible work that makes a worthwhile contribution to the study of the specific phenomena it discusses and to our understanding of the persuasive strategies deployed in Classical Athenian trials in general.

O'Connell approaches the task of recapturing the elusive performance dimension of lawcourt oratory by studying the language of real and imagined sight in selected speeches from the large surviving corpus: that is, how litigants manipulate jurors' (and audience members') interpretations of the people and things that they actually see in court, and encourage them to visualize other people and things not physically present. His overall aim is to explore the persuasive possibilities of visual discourse, and his contention is essentially that it plays an important and dynamic role in this genre, something he demonstrates successfully. This demonstration comes from three main angles, reflected in the division of the bulk of the book into three parts. In each part, the argument proceeds mainly via the examination of a handful of related case-studies. Seven of the canonical ten orators feature in these (Lysias and Demosthenes predictably looming large); the endnotes frequently offer parallels for a given phenomenon in other speeches beyond those directly discussed.2 In Part 1 (chs. 1–2, pp. 25–79), O'Connell treats examples of how litigants capitalize on Athenian cultural assumptions about personal appearance and gesture in order to discredit their opponents or bolster their own credibility. Gesture (chapter 2) is particularly well handled—O'Connell concludes that speakers who conducted themselves in restrained, natural ways were most likely to succeed (pp. 60–1), but he makes the important allowance that more adventurous deportment was a choice that skilled orators could and did make to mark themselves out for a mass popular audience (pp. 67, 70, 78–9), a high- stakes manoeuvre because it offered rivals an attack route (pp. 68–74, 78). This is all reinforced by one of the most telling examples available, Aeschines 1.26 (supported by Demosthenes' response in Dem. 19) (pp. 74–9). Part 2 (chs. 3–4, pp. 83–118) deepens the analysis. Chapter 3 carefully and accurately establishes 'the Athenian preference for visual evidence' that had been advertised in the Introduction (p. 7), and explores the range and application of the vocabulary of showing and seeing by which speakers typically encourage jurors to become quasi-witnesses to the events being described. Chapter 4 then shows how this all works out in practice. In Part 3 (chs. 5–6, pp. 121–68), perhaps the most interesting section of the book, O'Connell continues to apply the insights developed in Part 2 but now focuses on imaginary sight. Chapter 5 begins with a handy introduction to enargeia (pp. 124–7) and then deals with three main case-studies (from Aeschines 3, Demosthenes 19, and Lycurgus 1), all set pieces focusing on civic suffering where the plight of the Theban, Phocian, or Athenian citizens concerned becomes a means of engaging the emotions of the jurors and conferring quasi-witness status on them. All three case-study passages are treated with sensitivity, and there are some sharp individual observations (for example on the effect of word order, p. 133). This chapter also sees deft and illuminating use of scholia (e.g. pp. 134–5, cf. 142–3). Chapter 6 moves to explore examples both of speakers' persuasive use of internal audiences as guides for the jurors' own reactions and also, interestingly (and in the book's most substantial case-study), of what orators (can) do when the conjuring up of an internal audience is ruled out by circumstantial factors: both Lysias's client in Against Andocides and Andocides in On the Mysteries appeal to other aspects of civic experience (initiation at Eleusis; Andocides' own noble ancestors) to guide jurors to the formation of mental images that will reflect badly or well on the defendant, as appropriate. By the Conclusion, we have a strong and varied sense of the potential of visualization techniques for effective rhetorical manipulation in Athenian trials.

Throughout the book, O'Connell pursues his arguments clearly, readably, logically, and with appropriate selection from the numerous examples available. The main questions that arise for this reviewer are about emphasis and balance. They are probably inevitable when the project is the surveying of a major theme in a large and diverse corpus, and the following points should not be read as detracting in any kind of fundamental way from the positive assessment offered so far.

A key strength of the book is its accessibility for readers unfamiliar with Attic forensic oratory as a genre—O'Connell explains numerous technical terms (e.g. bema and klepsydra at p. 14, diatyposis at p. 134), and the outline in the Introduction of what an Athenian court may have felt like (pp. 13–17) is not only helpful for such readers but also sets the scene for the argument in an effective way (the same goes for the occasional stimulating parallels with American trials: e.g. pp. 20–2, 25–6). Some valuable links with other Greek prose genres and authors (some of them non-oratorical) are also made and pursued, as for example with Thucydides 7 in chapter 6 (pp. 144–6). By setting aside space for these, O'Connell undoubtedly increases the book's value as a contribution to the (so far largely piecemeal) scholarly exploration of the orators as figures alive to the rhetorical potential of exploiting a wide range of literary texts. But the book would have profited from more of this. Its compactness (which I realize may be partly a series requirement) is at once an asset (O'Connell is able to set things up, make his case cleanly, and conclude in 166 pages of main text) and a difficulty. Epideictic oratory makes two brief guest appearances (pp. 117 and 146–8), and there is even less about deliberative oratory (beyond pp. 59–60). It would have been valuable to know more about whether O'Connell thinks the dynamics he identifies in forensic oratory apply in these cognate genres to the same extent, and if not, why not. In a similar vein, further discussion would have been welcome on the issue of whether visual strategies are more appropriate to some types of legal action rather than others, and why (this is raised briefly a few times, e.g. p. 51). Some of the individual case-studies are also too cursory, and sometimes O'Connell gives a sense of how the themes of sight and visualization contribute to a particular speech's overall rhetorical strategy without giving himself the space to elaborate. Another casualty in this area is the chance to give the reader more than a very brief sense of whether there are detectable differences between different orators' practice in deploying visualization techniques (though see e.g. pp. 51 and 127), and why those might exist. One implication of O'Connell's argument is that the rhetorical manipulation of sight and visualization gave orators particular scope to indulge their individual creativity to produce striking and memorable images for their audiences, but the opportunity to develop this aspect properly is not taken; and while O'Connell rightly points out that speakers clearly differ in their handling of these techniques ('while manipulation of the jurors' imaginations is a frequent tactic, all litigants and speechwriters approach it in a slightly different way', p. 167), there is still a risk that the reader will take away an impression that the similarities between speakers' treatments are much more important than the differences ('the individual strategies I have discussed are all variations on the same theme, however', p. 167 again). The aims of the techniques he describes would of course be broadly similar from litigant to litigant (i.e. seeking a condemnation or an acquittal), but it would be essential for the task of successful persuasion that the means of delivery were distinctive enough to engage the jurors, who would know the usual techniques, would be on the look-out for them, and would be able to see through them if they were not packaged compellingly. The speech synopses in O'Connell's useful Appendix (pp. 175–89) would have profited from a little more detail on questions of authenticity and genuineness, as the catalogue includes some speeches whose authenticity has been questioned (Lys. 6, 9, 20, 23; Dem. 42, 43, 47, 48) and one, pseudo-Demosthenes 25 (p. 179, featured in the main text at pp. 46–7), which is still widely regarded as unlikely to be a genuine product of the fourth century.3 The discussion of the status of the extant speech texts, in the Introduction (pp. 7–8), could also have been both fuller and more precise (e.g. our texts are 'records of…actual court performances' (p. 7, cf. p. 3) only in the rather loose sense that most represent speeches made at real trials). Finally, and on a more minor issue, O'Connell misses the opportunity for further comment on the intriguing verb peri(h)oran, which he features briefly in one of his chapter 5 case-studies (drawing it from Dem. 19.64, mentioned at p. 133). It often appears in rhetorical contexts where there is (or was) an identifiable or implied internal audience of people who could suffer, did suffer, or could have suffered as a result of the external audience's decision now or in the past,4 and some further discussion of the phenomenon would have helped to reinforce O'Connell's case in Part 3.

These points aside, though, this book should be welcomed as an articulate, thought-provoking exploration of a fascinating and rich topic not hitherto treated in the synoptic compass that O'Connell offers us here. It will be of interest to a wide readership.

Production quality is high and the book is easy to use. Typographical and other minor errors are quite rare. I detected one each on pp. xi, 1, 15, 44, 75, 77, 111, 113, 163, 197, 221, 228, and 250, and two on p. 239.



Notes:


1.   Most recently A. Serafim, Attic Oratory and Performance (London; New York, 2017) and S. Papaioannou et al. (eds.), The Theatre of Justice: Aspects of Performance in Greco-Roman Oratory and Rhetoric (Leiden/Boston, 2017). J. Hall, Cicero's Use of Judicial Theater (Ann Arbor, 2014) offers interesting cross-cultural comparison.
2.   O'Connell has himself offered a further, complementary, case-study in a recent freestanding article: 'The Rhetoric of Visibility and Invisibility in Antiphon 5, On the Murder of Herodes', Classical Quarterly 66 (2016): 46–58.
3.   O'Connell endorses [Dem.] 25's authenticity in two brief footnotes (p. 201, n. 82; p. 214, n. 5). Both of the scholars he cites (D. M. MacDowell and G. Martin) are inclined to accept the speech at least as a genuine fourth-century product, but the long history (and present reality) of scholarly disquiet probably needed some acknowledgement. E. M. Harris will argue against a fourth-century genesis for either of the Against Aristogeiton speeches in his forthcoming volume Demosthenes 23–26 (Austin, 2018); see also R. Sealey in Appendix 2 of Demosthenes and His Time (New York; Oxford, 1993), pp. 237–9.
4.   See e.g. Dem. 9.29, 16.25 (twice), 18.99, 19.84. A good vivid example of an allied visual technique—the conjuring of an internal audience who will criticize or blame the external audience later if they make a bad decision in this case, like the angry dead mentioned by O'Connell (p. 166)—is the quotation from an Assembly speech by Cydias given by Aristotle in Rhetoric Book 2 (1384b32–5).

(read complete article)

2017.09.39

Angeline Chiu, Ovid's Women of the Year. Narratives of Roman Identity in the 'Fasti'. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2016. Pp. ix, 209. ISBN 9780472130047. $70.00.

Reviewed by John F. Miller, University of Virginia (jfm4j@virginia.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Chiu's book explores the vast array of female figures in Ovid's Fasti, ranging from Lucretia to Livia, Flora to Vesta, and including the mortal women in the City who provide information to the antiquarian poet—a garrulous old woman; the flaminica Dialis. While some of these have been extensively studied by others, Chiu is the first to embrace the whole cast of characters in a single study. Her aim is to show how Ovid develops these "calendar girls" as part of an agenda to broaden and otherwise complicate the picture of Roman identity. The book is organized as a series of four chapter-length engagements with important contemporaries: Livy's History, Virgil's Aeneid, Augustus, and Ovid's own earlier poetry. The intertextual project of close readings Chiu describes modestly, but accurately, as "more impressionistic and suggestive than comprehensive or conclusive."

Ch. 1 shows how four cases of heroic exemplarity in Livy are reformulated in tone and perspective by women's stories in Ovid. In Livy's narrative of the plebeian secession to the Mons Sacer in 494 BCE, the central figure is Menenius Agrippa, the patricians' emissary who restores order through his parable of the parts of the body. In the same circumstances Ovid features instead an old baker from Bovillae named Anna, who rescues the ill-supplied plebeians with her rustic cakes. Anna is not only expressive of the poetics of the Fasti, akin as she is to figures in Callimachus' Hecale and the Copa; in contradistinction to the lofty oratorical vision of Livy's Menenius Agrippa, and the male political world in which he operates, the aged baker also represents a lower side of Romanitas comfortable with social separation. In Fasti 6 Ovid reports his own encounter with another old woman, who volunteers to him an explanation for the surprising sight of a matron entering the Forum barefoot. Chiu less successfully argues that this episode resonates with Livy's aitia for the Lacus Curtius—two tales of masculine courage—simply because the anus mentions the Lacus as part of the changed landscape of the Forum (along with the Velabrum). More compellingly demonstrated is how Ovid refashions two of Livy's exemplary women, in both cases by highlighting erotic elements. Claudia Quinta, a paragon of chastity whose virtue was questioned until her religious service at Cybele's arrival in Rome, is treated cursorily by Livy. Ovid moves her to center stage, so that the narrative culminates even more in the confirmation of her virtue than in the Great Mother's welcome. Moreover, Ovid brings her to life by styling Claudia a docta puella—beautiful, well-coiffed, confidently rejecting her critics—and in the process complicates the traditional notion of female exemplarity with elegiac sensibilities. Likewise, Ovid's Lucretia is an elegiac woman and more finely drawn than her counterpart in Livy Book 1. This analysis may tendentiously flatten Livy's heroine in setting up Ovid's emulation—"the speech of a plaster saint," "charmless" (why do we expect charm here?). But in other respects Chiu brings out well Ovid's tragic version and nicely differentiates the competing modes of exemplarity.

Ch. 2 is a series of case studies of female characters from the Aeneid whom the Fasti develops along different lines. A favorite Ovidian technique is to exploit gaps in a predecessor text. Carmentis, honored at the Carmentalia in January, is a classic instance. Twice mentioned very briefly in the Aeneid, Evander's mother emerges as a major figure in the Fasti, delivering an expansive prophecy as a prequel to the settled times at Pallanteum in Aeneid 8, and looming larger than her immature son. Dido's sister Anna furnishes the opportunity for a sequel to the Aeneid as Ovid tells of her 'Annaid,' her journey from Carthage to Italy and her encounter there with Aeneas and Lavinia. The latter's suspicion of a love affair between her husband and the new arrival may derive from the Varronian tradition that Anna loved Aeneas (not mentioned by Chiu), but Ovid's expansive story engages principally with the Aeneid—Anna incorporates elements of the Virgilian Dido and Aeneas both; Lavinia's mad hatred of Anna recalls her mother Amata's hostility to the newcomer Aeneas; Dido's ghost warns Anna as the dead Hector appeared to Aeneas. In this scenario, Lavinia, now the full-blown character that she is not in the Aeneid, becomes a jealous and vengeful wife, while the heroism of Aeneas dissolves into a near farce. Finally, the brief reference in Aeneid 12 that Jupiter rewarded Juturna with divinity after he bedded her Ovid spins into a "false prequel" where, already a nymph, Juturna rejects Jupiter's advances. The high drama of Turnus' fate drops away along with the lofty project of Rome eventually reconciled by the Virgilian Jupiter and Juno, who instead here engage in a tawdry domestic conflict over Jupiter's latest love. In all these cases, Chiu argues, Ovid destabilizes and otherwise complicates Virgil's monumentalizing epic.

Ch. 3 examines Ovid's perspectives on Augustan realities. It is interesting to contextualize the rites added through history via female initiatives against the emperor's addition of days to the calendar that is programmatically mentioned in the proem. The new Augustan honors for Vesta are shown, in the Fasti, to be at the expense of other goddesses like Venus and Flora. Chiu aligns Ovid's panegyrical treatment of Livia with his highlighting of mythological foundress figures, Hersilia and Egeria, the wives of Romulus and Numa respectively, two kings in some respect analogous to Augustus. It is not clear to me, however, how their tales diminish the dignity of their royal husbands in Ovid's telling. Likewise, in the references to Livia herself, the text suggests that there is a lot of glory to go around rather than that she "overshadows" Tiberius and Augustus. Ovid certainly accentuates Livia with closural effects giving her pride of place. At 1.535–36, however, the remarkable final prediction of her future divinity as Iulia Augusta, alongside that of the speaking prophetess Carmentis, positions Livia among the Augusti (members of the imperial family) in 531 upon whom Rome's guardianship depends, and alongside, rather than overshadowing or undercutting, the divinely accented Tiberius and Augustus—or Augustus and Julius (the unclear references suggest the familial mirroring of excellences)—cf. natusque dei; caelesti mente. Later in Book 1 Livia once again concludes Ovid's account of Concordia's temple, rededicated by Tiberius. Here the couplet does feel like a coda, with Livia's quasi–divine status, the logical afterthought of her own dedication (an ara) in view of the event being celebrated, and her fabricated honor as sola vis-à-vis Augustus (= univira). Even so, she is thus praised in an extended apostrophe to the victorious, pious Tiberius, whose glory seems complemented rather than "oddly overshadowed" by his mother. Livia's mention at the end of the Bona Dea entry at 5.148–58 is taken to substitute the imperial honorand for a goddess who would have been potentially unwelcome to the regime. This begs the question of why Livia would have restored such a temple; here she does neatly cap the shrine's history and make a compelling counterpart to the Vestal who made the original dedication (cf. the virtue of both; nominis heres). One wonders, too, about a possible relevance of Ovid's exile to his treatment of Livia in the Fasti.

Ch. 4 is "Song of Myself: Revis(it)ing Love Elegy." Chiu breaks new ground in her analysis of Janus and Carna (Bk. 6), particularly in uncovering hints of amor already in Janus' appearance in Bk. 1. Elements of love elegy are excavated in Fortuna and Servius Tullius, the important programmatic dialog with Venus at the start of Bk. 4, and the grand panel for the Floralia. In all this, love elegy is more revisited than revised. One should note, for instance, that, alongside her elegiac features, Ovid's Flora is at the same time the stately goddess called mater also in cult, a mediating figure who encapsulates the poem's new kind of elegy. Recourse to elegy seems out of place in reading Ovid's meeting with the flaminica concerning the proper time for his daughter's wedding. The poet's need to learn about marriage hardly conjures up his opposite number in the confident teacher of love in the Ars. The inquisitive persona is rather all of a piece with Ovid as searcher into religious antiquities, even if the reason is now more personal.

In her focus on the Fasti's ideological and generic revisions and collisions, Chiu follows in the tradition of Carole Newlands' Playing with Time (1995) and Alessandro Barchiesi's The Poet and the Prince (1997). Her Conclusion restates the poem's dynamic in terms of the flexibility and mutability of Roman identity in Ovid's hands. A kind of emblem for his mindset is his address to the reader when introducing the multiple etymologies for June: ipse leges, "you yourself will choose."

Throughout Chiu offers many original observations. The numerous subject headings reflecting popular culture suggest the relish with which she approaches the topic—e.g. Fatal Attraction, Sister Act, The Way We Were, Father of the Bride, The Good Wife, Vesta'd Interests. The Bibliography is full but not always easy to use, with multiple titles by a single author organized alphabetically rather than chronologically. Quoted Latin is either translated or summarized. All in all, students of Ovid's Fasti will be grateful for this investigation of the poem's female figures.

(read complete article)

2017.09.38

Matyáš Havrda, The So-Called Eighth 'Stromateus' by Clement of Alexandria: Early Christian Reception of Greek Scientific Methodology. Philosophia antiqua, 144. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016. Pp. x, 373. ISBN 9789004310087. $162.00.

Reviewed by Dawn LaValle Norman, Magdalen College, University of Oxford (dawn.lavalle@magd.ox.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

This excellent books bears what might at first be a mystifying title, which will hopefully not hide its contents from the many scholars who would benefit from reading it. Not only should scholars of Clement of Alexandria pick up this book, but also those interested in late ancient philosophy, medical theory, and especially the thought of Galen of Pergamum. This is because Havrda's bold and persuasive claim is that the "so-called 8th book" of Clement's Stromateis is actually a summary of Galen's lost logical treatise On Demonstration, and is therefore a vital witness both to ancient logic and to how ancient science was used by early Christian authors for their own theological purposes.

The reason for the confusing moniker "the so-called Eight Stromateus" is twofold. Clement's choice of title for his most philosophical work, Stromateis, expresses its nature as a miscellany: "stromateis" is a Greek word for a quilt, and is one of the titles for miscellanies listed in Aulus Gellius' preface to Attic Nights. As Clement says in Book 7, "Our Stromateis therefore make no pretense of order…seeking to exercise the diligence and ingenuity of the readers…" (quoted at Havrda 10). While most of the Stromateis certainly does that, the very end of the text as it survives descends into fragmentation beyond the level of intentional disorder normal to miscellanies. The post-Book 7 "meta-Stomatic" material contains the section that is of interest to Havrda, which he proposes to call the "liber logicus," followed by two other collections, one of excerpts from a Valentinian source (Excerpta ex Theodoto) and the other a series of short commentaries on Old Testament passages (Eclogae Propheticae). As a result, most scholars think that the "so-called Book 8," along with the other meta-Stromatic material, is not a continuation of Book 7 at all, but either summaries of Clement's lost works, or preliminary notes for future works that were never written. Havrda's thesis builds from the position that they are notes for future use.

In some sense, this monograph is part of a recent movement in Clementine studies to look at "the other Clement," as Bogdan Bucur has been reminding us, to turn our sights beyond the traditionally defined "trilogy" of the Protrepticus, Paedagogus, and Stromateis. However, the material collected at the end of the Stromateis (sometimes, as here, called its Eighth Book) does not sit easily with scholarship on "the other Clement" either. Instead of the cosmic hierarchy and secret tradition expressed in the Eclogae Propheticae, Excerpta ex Theodoto, and other fragmentary works, the "liber logicus" attached to the end of the Stromateis raises a different set of problems and questions.

Most strikingly, apart from the opening section, there is little about the "liber" that is specifically Christian. In fact, the voice of Clement's source-text is so strong that in some places it directly contradicts Clement's views stated elsewhere. For instance, at 82,27-83,1, the text relates how one can deduce that a woman is no longer a virgin if she has given birth. What might seem a logical deduction for a non-Christian medical practitioner is not a natural statement for a theologian who elsewhere discusses the virgin birth of Jesus. Clement's notes have clearly not yet been fully metabolized into usable Christian content.

Instead of biblical exegesis or theological reflection, the "eighth book" is almost exclusively about the mechanisms of logic, with long concomitant warnings of the dangers of extreme skepticism. As such, it participates in the philosophical discussions of the second century. A key point of Havrda's edition is to place it firmly in that context, and more particularly within the context of Galen's philosophical works. Although long recognized as the most influential medical writer of the ancient world, Galen's important contributions as a philosopher have only recently begun to take center stage in scholarship. Havrda is currently advancing this movement in other projects, such as an upcoming conference on Galen's epistemology, and is joined in this philosophical turn in Galenic studies by scholars such as Teun Tieleman.1

Despite the author's unnecessary apologies as a non-native speaker of English, this is a beautifully-written book, easy to follow, and interesting to read. The ideas are laid out clearly, and all the questions that are raised are answered in due course. There are three major sections to the monograph: a substantial introduction (1-77), the text itself, faced by a new English translation (81-126), and a lengthy lemmatic commentary (128-311).

The introduction admirably lays out the interpretive issues and scholarly history surrounding this text. Does the "eighth book" contain one or many texts? What are the purposes of the various miscellanies it contains? Are they excerpts from Clement's works or are they preparatory studies? Having laid out the various paths that have been followed since the sixteenth century on these questions, Havrda argues his own thesis that the eighth book of the Stromateis is Clement's excerpts (with some commentary) from Galen's lost logical text On Demonstration, collected for future use.2 He collates a large number of parallels, some of them word-for-word, between Clement's book and the fragments of Galen's lost treatise. Not only are there exact textual parallels, but Galen also mentions in De Usu Partium that his On Demonstration included a treatment of the question of whether the embryo was an animal, a question that takes up a large section of Clement's eighth book.

Despite the many merits of the introduction, I would have welcomed a more thorough discussion of the genre of the Stromateis, in order to put into context the fragmentary nature of the last "book." Is it a miscellany, a notebook, a collection of philosophical problemata, or something else entirely? Missing also from the introduction was a description of how the "liber logicus" fits with the other two "meta-Stromatic" texts, the Eclogae Propheticae and the Excerpta ex Theodoto. How do all three of these texts contribute (or not) to our understanding of imperial miscellanies? What does Havrda's close analysis of this text add to our knowledge of ancient note-taking? Or what does it add to the popular question about the ways that Clement used his sources? Due to the philosophical focus of the edition (as befits a text in the Philosophia Antiqua series), these literary questions were somewhat underdeveloped in the introduction.

After the introduction, the meat of Havrda's text is his edition and new translation of the "liber logicus." Until now, the only English translation of this section of the Stromateis was that of William Wilson in the 1869 Ante-Nicene Fathers series.3 In general, Havrda is not a very obtrusive editor, and he preserves the numeration and basic text of Otto Stählin's 1970 edition. As he explains, this is not a new collation of manuscripts (mainly because the tradition rests upon only one), but neither is it a slavish copying of Stählin. Havrda rejects some of the changes proposed by Stählin and also adds thirteen of his own emendations, some of which make it into the main body of the text. The only decision that he made over which I hesitated was a proposed emendation at 93,12, where he substitutes θνητὸν λογικόν (mortal and rational) for the manuscript's γελαστικόν (capable of laughter) in a definition of man. His commentary contains the reason why he thinks that this is necessary according to the logic of the text, and even suggests a possible textual reason the change would have been made. But before making such a substantial change, I would have been interested to see whether in the later philosophical tradition there were not hints that "man is a laughing animal" might have become an actual definition rather than simply a quality of man.

The commentary focuses primarily on philosophical questions, issues of sense and source, the most common note being to clarify the argument being made. Havrda is especially keen to bring up philosophical parallels and possible source texts. As he himself admits, his commentary forms part of his argument for the Galenic source and, therefore, frequently provides parallels with the works of Galen. The other most commonly cited philosophers are Plato, Aristotle, Sextus Empiricus (since much of the text is anti-skeptic), and Alexander of Aphrodisias.

However, there are passages in the "eighth book" that touch on issues that are more than philosophical, and it was these passages where I wished Havrda had provided more information. For instance, there is an interesting moment when the Medea story is used as an example of multiple causation: not only was Medea responsible for the killing of her children, but the chain of causation could be traced further and further back, until we come to the tree from which the Argo was made (97,13-22). The move back to the tree that was felled to make the Argo is a popular one already in Euripides' opening to his play, but it seems that it came to be especially popular in the Latin tradition (not only does Ennius' Medea begin with it, but also the first line of Catullus 64 emphasizes the arboreal origin of the Argo). I would be interested to know if Clement's example was interacting not only with Euripides, but with the later development of the Medea tradition. What would that say about the interaction of Latin and Greek literature during this period? Also, as Havrda notes, the Medea was a tragedy that was used as source material by Chrysippus in the discussion of the relative power of reason and emotion. Why was Medea seen as a particularly good story to think through philosophical problems? Are there other examples?

As always, different questions will be interesting to different scholars, and the very fact that I was led to these questions is a tribute to Havrda's excellent work in making this text more readily available. Havrda has brought out a crisp and readable new translation to replace the one buried at the end of a mid-nineteenth-century Ante-Nicene Fathers volume, and, by decoupling it from the rest of the Stromateis, he has brought it to the attention of those who would otherwise have had no idea that they should look in a Christian text with an obscure title for an ancient treatise on logical demonstration. Havrda's philosophical focus means that literary issues are not foregrounded, but this is a truly excellent monograph, which should bring an obscure text to the greater readership it deserves. Havrda's important work shows how vital it is for those interested in ancient medicine to examine Christian texts as well, which often contain testimony of philosophical and scientific theory otherwise lost.4



Notes:


1.   Especially in his project: "Human Nature: Medical and Philosophical Perspectives in the Work of Galen of Pergamum."
2.   This argument was made by him in an earlier excellent article, "Galenus Christanus? The doctrine of demonstration in Stromata VIII and the question of its source," Vigiliae Christianae 65 (2011), 343-75.
3.   The datedness of this translation is evident in the fact that its editors printed Book III only in a Latin translation, because it contained so many dangerous heretical teachings on human sexuality.
4.   Christian use of ancient medicine is a growing field of interest, as seen by the activities of "ReMeDHe: A Working Group for Religion, Medicine, Disability, and Health in Late Antiquity".

(read complete article)

2017.09.37

Hutan Ashrafian, Francesco M. Galassi, Julius Caesar's Disease. Barnsley: Pen & Sword History, 2016. Pp. 192. ISBN 9781473870789. £19.99.

Reviewed by Patrick Cook, University of Cambridge (prc36@cam.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

Illness fascinates. As Susan Sontag pointed out, physical illnesses often become 'encumbered with the trappings of metaphor' about individuals and about society.1 There is an extra frisson when illness affects a person in a position of great power, as it suggests a vulnerability at odds with their social and political power. Roman sources were fascinated by the bodies of emperors and other members of the elite, including their susceptibility to disease. The existence of this book is proof of how enduring this fascination is.

The book's basic claim is that Julius Caesar most likely did not have epilepsy, but instead suffered from several small strokes. The authors previously made this argument in an article aimed at medical professionals.2 The conclusions of the original article received media attention.3 The present work is aimed at classicists, historians, and other readers who are not likely to be avid readers of neurological journals. The greater length of the book allows for a far more detailed argument, drawing on a far number of sources. These are analyzed with what the authors term a 'philologico-clinical approach'. One might wish for a more explicit definition of what is meant by this, but none is forthcoming. It has already been reviewed from a medical perspective with more expertise than I could manage, so this review will focus on the quality of the classical and historical scholarship and its relevance to those fields.4

The book's argument is made in five chapters. The first chapter begins by noting that, as Caesar was by all accounts cremated, bioarchaeologists will have no way of examining his body, as they have done with the remains from Vergina that are believed to be those of Philip II. In the absence of such remains, this study focuses on literary depictions of Caesar's disease. The first chapter goes on to discuss not only the major accounts of Caesar's disease in Suetonius and Plutarch, but also passing references in Cicero, Appian, and Dio. The authors rightly note that the accounts of Suetonius and Plutarch are contradictory and that much previous scholarship has mingled them together without always acknowledging this.

The second chapter, by far the longest in the book, examines various explanations for Caesar's symptoms, including early- onset epilepsy and late-onset epilepsy caused by a variety of factors, including alcoholism, head trauma, syphilis, or other infection. They also look at the possibility of several genetic conditions, including Hartnup disease. Both their discussions of late-onset epilepsy and of Hartnup disease lead to a discussion of Caesar's family, and particularly his imperial descendants. The authors note that none of the available evidence is sufficient to suggest that the Julio-Claudians suffered from a hereditary disease. This is surely correct as far as stating the limits of the evidence. I would argue, however, that the authors err in taking the absence of evidence for evidence of absence. They justify this approach by claiming that 'almost every single and minute detail of Caesar's life has been reported'. This is quite simply untrue. Furthermore, most of what has been reported is known only through sources writing a century or more after Caesar's death.

The third chapter presents alternative theories to epilepsy, focusing closely on the 1865 biography of Caesar written by Napoleon III. I must admit to being somewhat startled to see this book given such prominence, as it enjoyed a substantial but brief popularity at the time of its publication and is now remembered as a curiosity, if it is remembered at all. The authors do, however, make judicious use of it. They rightly note that Napoleon's diagnosis of 'nervous attacks' 'can mean almost anything and nothing at the same time'. From Napoleon III, they move on to Donnadieu's argument, made in 1937, that Caesar did not have epilepsy but was merely faking the symptoms. This eccentric theory is given more space than it really deserves, although it does allow the reader to appreciate Donnadieu's amusingly snide comment on Felix Jacoby's medical knowledge. Finally, they look at a theory proposed by Terence Cawthorne in 1957 that Caesar had Ménière's Disease. Again, they reject this diagnosis, rightly pointing out that Cawthorne seems to have accessed Plutarch through Shakespeare and other ancient sources not at all.

The fourth chapter presents their own conclusion, which as mentioned above, is that Caesar had a series of small strokes. They anticipate and address the complaint that cardiovascular disease is largely a problem arising from the diet and lifestyle typical in the modern Western world. They counter by pointing out that analysis of Egyptian mummies proves this untrue.

The fifth and final chapter examines why the epileptic diagnosis has proven so enduring. This is in some ways the most interesting question addressed by the book. Here, the authors widen their analysis to include the cultural role of illness. They rightly point out that epilepsy could be seen in the ancient world as either an indication of divine wrath or of divine favour, and could thus be exploited by both Caesar's admirers and his enemies.

The book is well presented and attractive. The prose is unusually lively. Medical terminology is usually glossed for a lay audience, and there are numerous literary allusions. This is undeniably more fun to read than the typical clinical language of medical journals, but it does introduce problems when it degenerates into a boy's-own bombasticism. If Caesar's soldiers were indeed 'almost invincible' in the Civil War (as claimed on the first page), then it seems curious that they were defeated at Bagradas and Dyrrachium and nearly routed at Ruspina. Furthermore, the excitable prose does not actually make the book a particularly easy read, as it cannot compensate for a repetitive and circuitous argument.

There are other, more serious, problems. The first relates to the use of ancient sources. There is occasionally an attempt at something approaching Quellenkritik, as for instance when the authors point out that Plutarch's knowledge of Latin may have been limited. More frequently, however, the authors operate under the assumption that their ancient sources were proto-Rankeans aspiring to write history 'as it actually happened' and, furthermore, largely successful in this endeavour. In particular, the accounts of Plutarch and Suetonius are treated as if they were clinical case studies, with little acknowledgement that they might be works of a very different genre. In fairness, Suetonius in particular has often been portrayed, even by academic classicists, as a compiler of unadorned factual minutiae. This view has now rightly fallen from favour. Had the authors engaged with Tamsyn Barton's work on the 'invention of Nero' in Suetonius, they might have been led to question whether Julius Caesar and his symptoms were equally the product of a rhetorical tradition quite different from that of modern Western medicine.5 This is unfortunately indicative of a general lack of engagement with recent classical scholarship.

The need for this level of rhetorical awareness is particularly acute with epilepsy, which is described in radically different terms in different cultures. It is no coincidence that one of the books most frequently assigned to teach cultural competency to medical students is about epilepsy.6

Reviewers writing for this journal are given a list of instructions that prohibits 'attacks for not being the book you would have written'. I have endeavoured to keep to these terms. I am reminded, however, of Keith Hopkins' review of Fergus Millar's The Emperor in the Roman World (a classic case of a reviewer doing what we are instructed not to do).7 Setting the scene for many of his objections, Hopkins uses as an epigraph a quotation (actually somewhat paraphrased) from the social anthropologist Rodney Needham: 'Problems do not present themselves, they must be conceived'.8 Conceiving the right problems and asking the right questions is a central role of the historian's job. The decision to frame the book's question in terms of whether or not Julius Caesar had epilepsy is limiting. Only in the last chapter are the wider social, cultural, and political implications given serious weight. Given that the authors made their purely medical diagnosis in a one-page article, a book nearly 150 times longer should have provided an opportunity to expand on its wider significance. Unfortunately, the opportunity has been left largely unseized. The last chapter provides a tantalizing taste of what might have been.

It must now be clear that I have serious problems with this book's methodology. Despite its flaws, it can be useful to classicists. It is most successful when it problematizes, rather than when it proposes solutions. It will not stop the parade of diagnoses de jour. Since publication of the original article, there has already been a new suggestion of coeliac disease9. This book presents a useful critique of any tendency to assert Caesar's epilepsy as a straightforward historical fact. Anyone reading this book will realize that things are not so simple. That, in the end, is a more valuable conclusion than any specific diagnosis.



Notes:


1.   S. Sontag, Illness as Metaphor and Aids and its Metaphors. London: Penguin, 2002. Quotation from pg. 5.
2.   F.M. Galassi and H. Ahrafian, 'Has the diagnosis of a stroke been overlooked in the symptoms of Julius Caesar?', Neurological Sciences, Volume 36, Issue 8 (August 2015), pp 1521–1522.
3.   I. Sample, 'Julius Caesar may have suffered mini-strokes, say doctors', The Guardian, The Guardian 14 April 2015.
4.   It was reviewed by M. Traversari in Neurological Sciences, Volume 38, Issue 1 (January 2017), pp 209–210
5.   T.S. Barton. 'The Inventio of Nero: Suetonius' in J. Elsner and J. Matthews (eds.), Reflections of Nero: Culture, History, and Representation. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1994, pp. 48–63.
6.   A. Fadiman. The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down: A Hmong Child, Her American Doctors, and the Collision of Two Cultures. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997.
7.   K. Hopkins, 'Rules of Evidence', rev. of F.G.B. Millar, The Emperor in the Roman World. Reviewed in The Journal of Roman Studies, Vol. 68 (1978). pp. 178–86.
8.   The original quotation is from R. Needham, Introduction to idem (ed.) Rethinking Kinship and Marriage. London: Tavistock Publications, 1971, p. xvi.
9.   F. Imparato, Letter to the Editor: 'Celiac Disease Could Have Been the Cause of Caesar's Epilepsy', Journal of Clinical Gastroenterology, Vol. 50, Issue 9 (October 2016), p. 797.

(read complete article)

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

2017.09.36

Adele Filippo, Marco Ugenti (ed.), Giuliano Imperatore, Elogio dell'imperatrice Eusebia. Testi e commenti, 29. Pisa; Roma: Fabrizio Serra editore, 2016. Pp. 232. ISBN 9788862279154. €92.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Gianmario Cattaneo, Università degli Studi di Firenze/KU Leuven (gianmario.cattaneo@unifi.it)

Version at BMCR home site

Two years after the publication of an edition, translation, and commentary of Julian's Consolation upon the Departure of Salustius,1 another edition of a speech composed by the Apostate has been published by Fabrizio Serra Editore: it is the Panegyric or Speech of Thanks to the Empress Eusebia, edited and commented on by Adele Filippo, with an introduction written by Marco Ugenti. Before this book, the only two critical editions of Julian's Panegyric to Eusebia were by Friedrich Karl Hertlein in 18752 and Joseph Bidez in 1932,3 so Filippo's edition represents a solid contribution to the study of the life and works of Julian before his election as Emperor in 361.

The volume consists of an introduction, a critical edition of the Panegyric with a parallel Italian translation, and a commentary. In the introduction, Ugenti reconstructs the political and historical background of Julian's speech. Julian wrote it to thank the empress for her support during the previous two years, when she saved him from the charges of disloyalty to the Emperor Constantius, granted him accommodation in Athens, and favored his appointment as Caesar on November 6, 355. Accordingly, the Panegyric was composed after this date and perhaps before the beginning of 357.

The introduction ends with a chapter on the manuscript transmission of this text. The most important witnesses are Leid. Voss. gr. F III 77 (V) and Marc. gr. 366 (M), in which the Panegyric is preserved up to 18.128D τῶν πολιτῶν (om. τις) περιβαλόμενος; some fragments of the oration are also conserved in the Souda (7.111D-112A γελοιότερον … τέχνῃ) and in the Neap. II C 32, containing the so-called Excerpta Neapolitana: 12.118 A μὴ θείας … τυχών, 13.120D-121A εὔνοιαν ... μοίρᾳ; 15.123D ἥρμοσεν ἐμοὶ τὸν γάμον, 16.125D-126A Θαλλῆν (sic) ... φαίνεται. The chapter ends with a section about the previous editions and translations of the Panegyric.4

In analyzing the critical text, we notice several changes and innovations in respect to the previous editions. One of the most noteworthy is the defense of the reading ἐφ' Ἑλλάδα against Cobet's correction ἐπὶ βασιλέα in 2.104A (Ξενοφῶν δὲ καὶ Ἀγησίλαον τὸν βασιλέα καὶ Κῦρον τὸν Πέρσην, οὔτι τὸν ἀρχαῖον ἐκεῖνον μόνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ ᾧ συνεστράτευτο ἐφ' Ἑλλάδα, καὶ τοὺς ἐπαίνους ξυγγράφων οὐκ ἀπεκρύπτετο). Bidez accepted Cobet's conjecture and translated: "mais encore celui avec qui il avait marché contre le Grand Roi," while Filippo prefers to preserve the reading transmitted by the manuscripts and translates: "ma anche quello insieme al quale aveva marciato per onorare l'Ellade," giving ἐφ' Ἑλλάδα the sense of "for Greece/for the glory of Greece," on the basis of Xen. An. 3.4.46: Ἄνδρες, νῦν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα νομίζετε ἁμιλλᾶσθαι, and other loci paralleli.5

The author seems to be right in defending the reading of the manuscripts in other passages, too. For instance, we should preserve the reading οὔτε against Hertlein's correction οὐδὲ in 2.104D (μή ποτε οὖν οὔτε τῆς Ἀθηνᾶς τῆς τοῦ Διὸς ἀπόσχωνται παιδός), since Julian often uses οὔτε alone instead of οὐδὲ (cf. Letter to Themistius 7.261C; Hymn to the Sun 1.130D, 131A; and Misopogon 30.359D). As another example, in 3.107B, Julian says about Alexander the Great τὸν αὐτοῦ πατέρα τῇ στρατηγίᾳ καὶ τῇ θαρραλεότητι καὶ ταῖς ἄλλαις ἀρεταῖς ὑπερβαλλόμενος; previous editors corrected αὐτοῦ to αὑτοῦ, but in Julian (cf. Caes. 5.309D; 7.311A; 10.313A), as well as in other late antique authors, αὐτοῦ could also be used as a reflexive pronoun, so we must maintain it, as Filippo does.6

Filippo also suggests three new emendations to Julian's text: ἢ <παρασχεῖν> τῷ παντὶ in 4.108D (ἐπεὶ καὶ πόλεως μεγίστης οἰκιστὴν γενέσθαι κρεῖττον ἢ πολίτην, καὶ λαβεῖν ὁτιοῦν ἀγαθὸν ἢ <παρασχεῖν> τῷ παντὶ καταδεέστερον), in parallel with the previous sentence σεμνότερον ἀρχὴν παρασχεῖν ... ἢ λαβεῖν;7 <ἀν>άγουσα in 10.116A (τοὺς μὲν ἤδη γνωρίμους καὶ πρεσβυτέρους ἐπὶ μειζόνων <ἀν>άγουσα πράξεων), instead of the reading of the manuscripts ἄγουσα and the correction τάττουσα suggested by Reiske and accepted by Bidez; τήν τε in 6.110B (σωφροσύνη δὲ ὑπέρ τήν τε Εὐάδνην τὴν Καπανέως καὶ τὴν Θετταλὴν ἐκείνην Λαοδάμειαν).8

Finally, I would like to propose a slight adjustment to Filippo's edition. At 3.106C (Μακεδόνων γὰρ οἰκίσαι φασὶ τὴν ώραν τοὺς Ἡρακλέους ἐγγόνους) V transmits the reading Ἡρακλέος, while M has Ἡρακλέους. Here, the choice between the two genitives is problematic: in fact, V, which is the only independent witness to the Letter to Themistius, the Oration against the Cynic Herakleios, the Hymn to the Mother of the Gods, and the Oration to the Uneducated Cynics, always reads Ἡρακλέος, and the modern editors of these speeches have never corrected it to Ἡρακλέους, but have printed Ἡρακλέος and interpreted it as an archaic poetic form (cf. for instance Oration against the Cynic Herakleios 1.204B; 7.211D; Hymn to the Mother of the Gods 6.166D). Βoth Bidez and Filippo choose the reading of M Ἡρακλέους, but, for the sake of uniformity, I think it would be better to stick to the criterion established in the editions of Julian's other works and print Ἡρακλέος.

The Italian translation is elegant and fluent; still, there are some cryptic passages. For example, Filippo translates 15.124A-B (τούτοις ἐγὼ προσκαθήμενος συνεχῶς τοῖς δώροις, εἴ ποτε σχολὴν ἄγοιμι, οὐκ ἔστιν ὅπως ἐπιλανθάνωμαι τῆς χαρισαμένης) as follows: "Frequentemente immerso in questi doni, appena ho un po' di tempo libero, non mi è dato di dimenticarmi di lei che mi ha beneficiato," but, in this case, I think the translator should explain the meaning of the participle προσκαθήμενος. One possible translation could be "Giacché io sono immerso continuamente in questi doni quando ho un po' di tempo libero, non è possibile che mi dimentichi della mia benefattrice" ("Since I completely devote myself to these gifts when I have some free time, it is impossible for me to forget the one who gave them to me").

The commentary represents a significant improvement on the few footnotes of Bidez's edition, although a monograph about this speech has recently been written by Kyrre Vatsend,9 and in 2008 Stefano Angiolani published an Italian translation of it with explanatory notes.10 In her commentary, Filippo illustrates the passages where she disagrees with the previous editions and is also particularly keen on the rhetorical features of this texts, but most of the notes are actually devoted to the explanation of Julian's mythological, historical, philosophical, and juridical references.

The final section of the volume contains an exhaustive bibliography,11 along with an index of quoted passages and one of the Greek words, both compiled by Marco Ugenti.



Notes:


1.   Marco Ugenti (ed.), Giuliano Imperatore: A Salustio. Autoconsolazione per la partenza dell'ottimo Salustio, Pisa-Roma 2014. See also the review by José C. Baracat, Jr., in BMCR 2016.03.38.
2.   Friedrich Karl Hertlein (ed.), Iuliani Imperatoris. Quae supersunt praeter reliquias apud Cyrillum omnia, vol. I, Lipsiae 1875, pp. 131-167.
3.   Joseph Bidez (ed.), L'Empereur Julien,Oeuvres complètes. Tome I – 1re partie. Discours de Julien César, Paris 1932, pp. 73-105.
4.   At p. 20, Filippo says: "Bidez aveva già pubblicato, in collaborazione con F. Cumont, la seconda parte del primo volume, contenente le Epistulae, Leges, Poematia, Fragmenta varia." The work by Bidez and Cumont, published in 1922, does not represent the second part of the first volume of Julian's opera omnia; the book Filippo refers to is Joseph Bidez (ed.), L'Empereur Julien, Oeuvres complètes. Tome I – 2e partie: Lettres et fragments, Paris 1924.
5.   Filippo has already discussed this passage in "Iul. Eus. 104A7", Rudiae, 11, 1999, pp. 29-36.
6.   I present here a short list of the passages in which Filippo preserves the readings of the manuscripts and rejects the corrections accepted by Bidez: 2.104B γε mss. Filippo : μὲν Hertlein Bidez; 2.105A αὐτοῦ V Filippo : αὐτ M αὐτῷ Cobet Wright Bidez; 2.106A οὐ τῶν ἀγαθῶν mss. Filippo : καὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν Petau Bidez; 3.107B οὐκ ἄξιον mss. Filippo : <ὥστε> οὐκ ἄξιον Hertlein Bidez; 4.109A φησὶ mss. Filippo : φήσει Hertlein Bidez; 8.112Α οὐκοῦν mss. Filippo : οὔκουν Hertlein Wright Bidez; 9.116A γέ μοι mss. Filippo : γ' ἐμοί <τὲ>Hertlein Bidez;11.117Α αὐτοῦ τε M Filippo : αὐτῆς τε V αὐτῷ τε Bidez; 12.119A τἄλλα M Filippo : τἆλλα V τα <τ'> ἄλλα Reiske Hertlein Bidez; 15.123C τό γε mss. Filippo : τά γε Hertlein Bidez.
7.   Bidez supplies δοῦναι.
8.   V has τὴν, M τε.
9.   Kyrre Vatsend, Die Rede Julians auf Kaiserin Eusebia: Abfassungszeit, Gattungszugehörigkeit, panegyrische Topoi und Vergleiche, Zweck, Oslo 2000.
10.   Stefano Angiolani (ed.), Giuliano l'Apostata, Elogio dell'imperatrice Eusebia, Napoli 2008.
11.   The only addition I would suggest is an article about the ancient sources regarding the Empress Eusebia, i.e. Margherita Di Mattia, "L'imperatrice Eusebia fra tradizione storiografica, tecnica retorica, funzioni narrative", Siculorum Gymnasium, 56, 2003, pp. 327-347.

(read complete article)

2017.09.35

Claudia Tiersch (ed.), Die Athenische Demokratie im 4. Jahrhundert: zwischen Modernisierung und Tradition. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2016. Pp. 384. ISBN 9783515110693. €63.00 (pb). ISBN 9783515110716. ebook.

Reviewed by Christopher Welser, Augsburg University (cswelser@gmail.com)

Version at BMCR home site

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

All periods of Greek history are problematic, each in its own way. The central problem of the Archaic Period, for example, has long been to find a well-defined set of causes that can plausibly account for all the trends that are generally agreed upon as characterizing that era. With respect to the fourth century BCE, on the other hand, the problem is more fundamental because the trends that characterize the period are themselves the subject of much debate. In the specific case of Athens, it no simple matter to determine whether democracy faded or flourished, whether economic inequality increased or diminished, whether there was a real shift in self-identification from the public to the private sphere—and so on. In general, a fair assessment of the relatively abundant evidence for fourth-century Athens seems to reveal contradictory tendencies on almost every dimension. It has long been almost habitual for historians to speak of these contradictory tendencies in terms of continuity and change.

The 2012 Berlin colloquium from which this book of essays emerged posed the problem in slightly different terms, proposing as its theme Athens "zwischen Modernisierung und Tradition." The hope behind such a formulation, as Claudia Tiersch explains in her introduction, was that the idea of modernization might offer a theoretical framework capable of bringing conceptual order to our picture of Athenian society in the period after the Peloponnesian War. As developed in other contexts, theories of modernization (discussed in some detail by Tiersch) seek to account for such processes as rationalization, bureaucratization, socio-economic differentiation, and growing individualism, all of which seem to be operative in Athens in the fourth century. As it happens (and as John Davies observes in his concluding reflections), few of the contributions to this volume actually employ modernization as an important explanatory mode. Nevertheless, the book is a valuable collection of essays from some of the most distinguished scholars of classical Athens, providing an incomparable snapshot of the current state of the field. Some of the essays are surveys or summaries, some offer new interpretations, but virtually all are worth reading by those interested in the problems of fourth-century Athenian history.

In keeping with current trends, more than a third of the eighteen essays (not including Tiersch's introduction and Davies' conclusion) deal with issues of trade and finance, and particularly with the interface between the private economy and the state. A central theme of no fewer than four essays is the extent to which the Athenians understood market processes and tried to direct them in socially beneficial ways. Edward Cohen, for example, offers an overview of the incentives that shaped the expanding market for maritime loans and highlights the Athenians' deliberate pursuit of policies designed to ensure their city's continuance as the most attractive entrepôt for seaborne commerce. Armin Eich, meanwhile, looks at some examples of Athenian state intervention in prices and production (mainly with respect to the market for grain) and concludes his paper with a brilliant analogy: although the ancient Athenians produced no systematic treatises on the building and operation of triremes, we do not doubt that these were subjects that concerned them deeply and that they knew well. Likewise, we can infer from their interventions in the economy that they possessed a pragmatic conception of how it worked. Some sense of that conception's intellectual content is provided by Raymond Descat, who offers a portrait of an emerging market mentality among the Athenians. Descat boldly connects several apparently disparate pieces of evidence to suggest (albeit not in so many words) that the economic rationalism we associate with the physiocrats and Adam Smith was present in some form more than two thousand years before. In contrast to Descat, who describes the development of a new economic mindset, Christophe Pébarthe argues that the Athenians were perforce conscious of the interdependence between politics and economics even in the fifth century, and that their fourth-century policies were a continuation of earlier efforts to solve similar problems.

Three other essays also deal primarily with aspects of Athens' economy. Ronald Stroud reviews the current state of scholarship on the Athenian Grain-Tax Law of 374/3, one of the most interesting (and complete) Athenian epigraphic documents to appear in recent years. Stroud concentrates, appropriately, on major aspects of the law that have not yet been adequately explained: these include the identity of the one-fiftieth tax that is one of the law's chief subjects, the nature and operation of the symmories in lines 31-36, the instructions to the apodektai in lines 56-61, and the peculiar absence from the law of any reference to the nomothetai or to provisions for inscribing and erecting the stele on which it appears. Epigraphic texts—specifically, the polētai records of silver mine leases—also form the basis of Kirsty Shipton's paper, in which she argues that the profile of a typical lessee seems to have changed somewhat over the course of the mid-fourth century. Investors around 340, she finds, are probably less wealthy than those in 367/6 (a trend also observed by Xenophon at Poroi 4.28) and less likely to have family connections with the mining industry. A final paper on an economic topic—though from a very different perspective—is by Claire Taylor, who proposes that a qualitative conception of poverty as a lived experience might prove more useful in tracking changes in fourth-century Athenian society than a more conventional quantitative approach.

Naturally, a number of the essays in this volume deal with democratic institutions and practices. Peter Rhodes provides an excellent summary of fourth-century constitutional changes in the archai through which the democracy was administered. He is inclined to accept the conventional view, common to many of the authors in the volume but perhaps worth reconsideration, that fourth-century Athens was characterized by increasing bureaucratization and "government by experts," particularly in the realm of public finance. Rosalind Thomas looks at another facet of the democracy, discussing audience participation—shouting, laughing, jeering—in the assembly and lawcourts. On the whole, she tends to regard such manifestations as evidence of the potential volatility of the dēmos and its susceptibility to manipulation.1 Lene Rubinstein also emphasizes the possible intensity of Athenian popular sentiment, specifically in the lawcourts, where she looks at speakers' demands for communal revenge and notes that such demands' presence or absence in our texts seems to reflect Athens' external political circumstances. A broader consideration of democracy is offered by Edward Harris, who argues against the oft-repeated claim that fourth-century democracy was characterized by a move away from the sovereignty of the dēmos and toward the rule of law; he notes that ancient sources unanimously regard the fourth century as a time of unrestrained popular supremacy, and he points out that even in the fifth century the Athenians "always believed that democracy and the rule of law went hand in hand" (p. 75). Although Harris sometimes seems to ignore the real tensions that can exist between the popular will and the rule of law —for example, in the trial of the generals after Arginusae—he is surely correct in insisting that the conflict so evident to us was largely invisible to the Athenians.2

A nuanced perspective on the ideological complexion of fourth-century democracy is provided by Peter Liddel, who analyzes honorary degrees as they appear in both literary and epigraphic texts. Like Rubinstein, he finds that changes in Athens' external circumstances— the loss of empire, the struggle with Macedon—are reflected in the evidence he examines, a fact he regards as indicative of the city's ongoing political vitality. Liddell also calls attention to indications of tension between the practice of honoring eminent individuals and the "collectivist" impulses of democracy, a tension perhaps relieved by the relatively numerous examples (in the epigraphic evidence) of honors for low-level administrators and boards of officials.

Danielle Allen, developing arguments from her book Why Plato Wrote (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), proposes an important revision of our picture of Athenian politics after Chaeronea. She argues persuasively that, contrary to what some scholars have believed, Lycurgus and Demosthenes were bitter opponents and that Lycurgus' Against Leocrates is best explained as an indirect attack on Demosthenes; Demosthenes, stung by this provocation, then forced Lycurgus' ally, Aeschines, to bring his long-suspended prosecution of Ctesiphon before a jury. Although Allen presents her essay in terms of Plato's influence in Athenian politics, readers may find her reimagining of Athens' political alliances more compelling than her linking of those alliances to a putative "culture war" over Platonism.

Three essays highlight issues of collective identity. Vincent Gabrielsen argues, on the basis of carefully documented evidence, that the growth of Athenian participation in voluntary (or "Hellenistic") associations began well before 322 BCE, and that the rise of such associations represented a transition from a rigorously state-centered idea of group membership to a more inclusive conception of polis culture. Giovanna Daverio Rocchi portrays a similar tendency in Athenian life, with the primacy of the centralized state giving way to greater activity at the level of the demes, and to increased private munificence. Volker Grieb, tracing the history of Athens in the century after 322, suggests that the struggle against Macedonian attempts to limit the franchise resulted in a consolidation of dēmos identity that we can observe in the establishment, after 229/8, of a sanctuary of Dēmos and the Charites. Although Grieb's portrait of a strengthened attachment to the dēmos may seem to be at odds with Gabrielsen's and Rocchi's descriptions of apparently more centrifugal processes, all three authors take the view that social connectedness in Athens increased even as Athenians' connections with formal political institutions may have waned—a notable departure from perceptions of the late Classical and Hellenistic eras as a time of increased social atomization and intensifying anomie.

Jan Timmer and Katarina Nebelin both explore broad social measures, trust and diversity respectively, and engage relatively fully with issues of modernization. Nebelin examines Aristotle's views of diversity, contrasting his belief that human diversity calls society into existence with his conviction that excessive freedom and equality are deleterious to the polis. Timmer observes that the increasing social complexity and individualism of fourth-century Athens required an increase in social trust, which ultimately had to be achieved through the "institutionalization of mistrust" so visible in fourth-century Athenian politics and, ultimately, through a general diminution of political passions ("ideologische Erkaltung"). Among all the essays in this volume, Nebelin's and Timmer's seem to have the most obvious relevance to our own times.

As I have said, nearly all the essays in this collection are worth reading; taken collectively, they furnish a highly stimulating conspectus of the dynamism and complexity of fourth-century Athens. The book's one serious fault is a lack of adequate copyediting, which has resulted in inconsistent formatting, fairly numerous typos, and, in the case of one or two essays, serious grammatical errors and stylistic weaknesses that impinge on readability. Otherwise, however, this is a marvelous book.

Authors and Titles

Claudia Tiersch, "Die Athenische Demokratie im 4. Jh. v. Chr. zwischen Modernisierung und Tradition." pp. 7-32
Jan Timmer, "Schritte auf dem Weg des Vertrauens—Überlegungen zu Chancen und Grenzen der Anpassung von Handlungsdispositionen." pp. 33-53
Lene Rubinstein, "Communal Revenge and Appeals to Dicastic Emotions." pp. 55-72
Edward M. Harris, "From Democracy to the Rule of Law? Constitutional Change in Athens during the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BCE." pp. 73-87
Rosalind Thomas, "Performance, Audience Participation and the Dynamics of the Fourth-Century Assembly and Jury-Courts of Athens." pp. 89-107
P. J. Rhodes, "Fourth-century Appointments in Athens." pp. 109-119
Vincent Gabrielsen, "Associations, Modernization and the Return of the Private Network in Athens." pp. 121-162
Giovanna Daverio Rocchi, "Political Institutions between Centre and Periphery, between Public and Private in 4th Century Athens. Constructing Shared Civic Identity." pp. 163-183
Ronald Stroud, "The Athenian Grain-Tax Law of 374/3 B.C.: Unfinished Business." pp. 185-193
Raymond Descat, "Continuité et changement: le comportement économique à Athènes au IVe s. a. C." pp. 195-206
Edward E. Cohen, "Transformation of the Athenian Economy: Maritime Finance
and Maritime Law." pp. 207-222
Christophe Pébarthe, "New Assessment on Trade and Politics in 4th Century B.C.E. Athens." pp. 223-232
Armin Eich, "Konzeptionen zur politischen Steuerung und Beeinflussbarkeit von wirtschaftlichen Vorgängen (Athen, 4. Jh. v. Chr.)." pp. 233-252
Kirsty Shipton, "The Silver Mines Of 4th C Democratic Athens: An Economic Nexus." pp. 253-260
Claire Taylor, "Social Dynamics in Fourth-Century Athens: Poverty and Standards of Living." pp. 261-277
Danielle Allen, "Culture War: Plato and Athenian Politics 350–330 BCE." pp. 279-291
Katarina Nebelin, "Vielfalt ohne Gleichheit? Das Problem der politischen und sozialen Vielfalt bei Aristoteles." pp. 293-333
Peter Liddel, "The Honorific Decrees of Fourth-Century Athens: Trends, Perceptions,
Controversies." pp. 335-357
Volker Grieb, "Konsolidierung und Modernisierung Athens Bürgerschaft im späten vierten
und frühen dritten Jahrhundert v. Chr." pp. 359-384
John Davies, "Athens after 404: A Battleground of Contradictory Visions." pp. 385-394


Notes:


1.   A somewhat more optimistic treatment of this phenomenon is Joseph Roisman's "Speaker-Audience Interaction in Athens: A Power Struggle," in Free Speech in Classical Antiquity, ed. I. Sluiter and R. M. Rosen (Leiden, 2004), pp. 261-277.
2.   Raphael Sealey has suggested that for the Athenians the rule of law was a more important aspect of democracy than popular sovereignty: The Athenian Republic: Democracy or the Rule of Law? (University Park, PA, 1987).

(read complete article)

2017.09.34

Daniel Mateo Corredor, Comercio anfórico y relaciones mercantiles en Hispania Ulterior (ss. II AC—II DC). Instrumenta, 52. Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2016. Pp. 543. ISBN 9788447540273. €49.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Christian Rico, Université Toulouse Jean Jaurès (rico@univ-tlse2.fr)

Version at BMCR home site

L'ouvrage est tiré d'une thèse soutenue en novembre 2014 à l'Université d'Alicante. Il est le pendant d'un autre ouvrage, paru en 1997 aux éditions de la même université et publié par Jaime Molina Vidal, professeur d'archéologie à l'Université d'Alicante1; celui-ci a dirigé la thèse de Mateo Corredor et préfacé l'ouvrage qui en est tiré. Voici donc deux travaux publiés à quasiment vingt ans d'intervalle qui ont en commun de s'intéresser, à partir de l'étude de divers ensembles amphoriques péninsulaires, aux échanges commerciaux entre l'Hispanie et le reste de la Méditerranée à l'époque tardorépublicaine et au tout début de l'Empire romain. Leur objectif est en effet, dans leurs grandes lignes, le même : caractériser les importations amphoriques de l'Hispanie méditerranéenne et méridionale principalement, en dépit du titre de l'ouvrage, dans la période correspondant aux premiers temps de la domination romaine, soit les deux derniers siècles avant notre ère, et tenter de reconstituer, par ce biais, les grandes stratégies commerciales qui se mettent en place avec l'arrivée et la consolidation du pouvoir de Rome dans la région. Le premier ouvrage est devenu un outil de référence pour les études amphoriques et la connaissance du commerce d'importation vers l'Espagne méditerranéenne et son évolution ; le second devrait probablement suivre le même chemin pour l'Ultérieure. Ne serait-ce que parce qu'il comble un vide : l'absence de toute vision d'ensemble sur les importations tardorépublicaines dans une région, le sud de l'Hispanie—et le territoire de la future province de Bétique plus particulièrement—qui, sous l'Empire, est devenue l'un des plus importants foyers d'exportation de l'Empire, diffusant largement, comme on sait, son vin, mais surtout ses salaisons de poissons et son huile dans tout l'Occident romain.

L'ouvrage est organisé en dix chapitres, y compris l'introduction et la conclusion générale. Les huit autres présentent tour à tour les aspects méthodologiques du travail (chap. 2), les résultats de celui-ci en termes d'importance respective, sur la longue durée (iie et ier s. av. n. è.), des amphores locales et méditerranéennes (chap. 5 à 7), un essai de synthèse sur les routes commerciales et des grands réseaux portuaires du sud de la péninsule aux premiers temps de la domination romaine (chap. 8), et un aperçu de la situation au tout début de l'Empire, marquée par une inversion des courants d'échanges (chap. 9). Le travail de Mateo Corredor repose sur la quantification de 66 ensembles amphoriques, d'importances très diverses, provenant de 38 sites répartis essentiellement sur le littoral péninsulaire, entre Almería à l'est et l'embouchure du Tage à l'ouest (chap. 2). Vingt-six ont été directement étudiés par l'auteur ; pour tous les autres, déjà publiés, il a appliqué, dans la mesure du possible, les mêmes critères de quantification de manière à pouvoir comparer les ensembles entre eux. Le chapitre 3 présente une utile typo-chronologie synthétique des différentes catégories d'amphores identifiées. Elle renvoie, en annexe (p. 477-510), à une série de planches très bien faites, précises, des formes de lèvres reconnues pour chaque catégorie ; ces planches devraient rendre de grands services aux archéologues sur le terrain pour l'identification du matériel trouvé en fouille. Le chapitre 4 présente les 38 sites pris en compte par l'étude, brièvement décrits (histoire, historiques des recherches). Une synthèse des amphores qu'ils ont livrées, de leur quantification, appuyée par de nombreux tableaux et graphiques, fournit opportunément, pour chacun d'entre eux, le détail du travail réalisé par Mateo Corredor tant sur le matériel auquel il a eu accès que sur les ensembles déjà publiés et révisés par lui. On est étonné, pour cette partie essentielle, par l'ordre choisi pour présenter les sites, qui ne répond, en tout cas pour les 18 premiers, à aucune logique. Il eut été plus simple de suivre un parcours côtier depuis Baria (Villaricos, site le plus à l'est de la zone d'étude), jusqu'à au moins l'embouchure du Guadalquivir pour s'intéresser éventuellement ensuite au bassin du Baetis, etc. Cela aurait permis de retrouver plus facilement dans ce chapitre 3 chacun des sites étudiés. Il manque aussi un descriptif ne serait-ce que succinct—qui aurait pu être accompagné d'illustrations en couleur—des grandes caractéristiques des pâtes des productions hispaniques, classées par grands foyers producteurs. L'identification des ateliers a été en effet un aspect essentiel du travail mené par l'auteur sur le matériel et déterminant pour situer, dans le temps long, la place des différentes productions amphoriques hispaniques dans les échanges commerciaux. Le sujet est au cœur du chapitre 7 ; il est d'autant plus dommage qu'aucune présentation d'ensemble ne soit fournie sur le type d'observations effectuées (macroscopiques, microscopiques) et les caractéristiques de chaque production ou grande production, ce qui aurait permis d'éclairer les informations de type « pastas : Grupo xxx » données pour chaque type d'amphore décrit dans le chapitre 3 mais qui ne renvoient à rien de concret dans l'ouvrage.

Le cœur du livre est constitué des chapitres 5 à 7 qui présentent les résultats du long et minutieux travail d'identification, classification et comptage du matériel et de la révision critique d'ensembles amphoriques publiés. Si les chapitres 5 et 6 s'intéressent essentiellement aux importations méditerranéennes, italiques et africaines, le 7 traite à part les productions locales. Les trois chapitres mettent bien en évidence l'originalité de la région où existait une forte tradition manufacturière à l'époque ibérique et punique, autour de Gades notamment, que la domination romaine ne balaya pas d'un revers de main, bien au contraire. En s'appuyant sur de nombreux tableaux et graphiques, abondamment commentés, Mateo Corredor montre bien la progressivité du commerce italique, et celui du vin en particulier, qui prit véritablement son envol dans les dernières décennies du iie s. av. n. è., après la fin des guerres celtibériques (133 av. n. è.) qui ouvrit une période plus favorable à l'installation des Italiens dans le sud de la péninsule, attirés notamment par son économie, ce qui, en retour, fut moteur d'un accroissement des échanges en provenance de l'Italie. L'auteur est convaincant quand il lie la présence des célèbres amphores gréco-italiques à celle d'une population exogène, probablement d'origine militaire mais aussi économique. Il est à remarquer, avec celui-ci, que les productions amphoriques locales sont, à l'inverse, majoritaires sur les sites turdétans et puniques, à l'inverse de ce que l'on observe sur les sites du Levant espagnol où les sites ibériques sont rapidement intégrés dans les circuits commerciaux italiques. Mateo Corredor montre bien ici que les réseaux économiques italiens mirent un certain temps à s'imposer, et de nouvelles habitudes de consommation, du vin pour ne parler que de cette denrée, à s'imposer, ce qui explique le temps qui fut nécessaire—plus d'un siècle—pour une diffusion généralisée du vin italien en Ultérieure. D'une manière générale, ces trois chapitres reconstituent avec précision et fermeté les temps forts du commerce méditerranéen avec l'Hispanie Ultérieure, dominé peu à peu par les importations italiques, tout en mettant en évidence le rôle actif et durable des réseaux locaux, et puniques en particulier. L'importance de Gades est logiquement soulignée, mais ce qui est également mis en valeur c'est le rôle d'une part de Carthago Nova dont l'aire d'influence s'étend jusqu'aux cités les plus orientales de l'Ultérieure (Baria et Abdera), et celui, d'autre part, de Malaca qui semble s'imposer comme l'autre grand foyer économique du sud péninsulaire face à Gades et à Carthago Nova, même si on observera que l'influence fut strictement régionale. Ce sont là quelques-uns des points forts de l'ouvrage, qui sont rappelés dans le chap. 8, court chapitre d'un peu plus d'une vingtaine de pages, qui n'est pas le plus original ni nouveau, et est surtout intéressant par l'essai de hiérarchisation des ports du sud de la péninsule Ibérique à la fin de la République qu'il propose. Avec l'Empire, on assiste, on l'a dit, à une inversion des courants des échanges qui consacre le développement des productions locales, vin(s), salaisons de poissons et huile et s'accompagne d'une intense activité manufacturière pour la production des conteneurs qui vont permettre leur diffusion hors de la province (chap. 9). Il n'est pas étonnant que la province et le sud du Portugal actuel, qui fut alors séparé de la Bétique pour faire partie de la Lusitanie, consomment en priorité des produits locaux. Les amphores en témoignent. Et on suivra volontiers l'auteur pour replacer les arrivées d'amphores hispaniques dans le sud de la Lusitanie dans une tradition commerciale remontant à la période précédente plutôt que les lier, comme cela est souvent fait par ailleurs, au développement d'un commerce atlantique destiné à ravitailler les marchés militaires du nord de l'Europe. Un petit regret toutefois : que D. Mateo n'insiste pas davantage ici sur la place des autres produits méditerranéens, italiens, africains, orientaux et même gaulois dans l'économie de la province ; même si les quantités qui y parvinrent furent modestes par rapport à ce qui a pu être observé pour la période précédente, la Bétique continua à recevoir des marchandises en amphores des autres provinces. Il eut été intéressant de faire le point sur ce trafic, qui n'est que peu examiné et seulement pour les toutes premières décennies de l'Empire. En attendant, on pourra toujours se reporter aux derniers travaux de Enrique García Vargas sur Hispalis.2

L'objectif de l'ouvrage est pleinement rempli : en proposant la synthèse qui manquait sur le commerce d'importation de l'Ultérieure à la fin de l'époque républicaine, ce travail ouvre de nouvelles perspectives de recherche et invite les archéologues à la plus grande rigueur dans la publication des matériels de fouilles. Une rigueur qui est une des qualités du livre, comme l'est la prudence avec laquelle Mateo Corredor avance dans ses conclusions et ses interprétations. Les quelques pages de conclusion qui closent l'ouvrage, tout en mesure, en sont une parfaite illustration. L'auteur revient sur quelques-unes des questions traitées au long de l'ouvrage, qui, si elles ne sont pas neuves, reprennent sens grâce à ce travail d'ensemble. C'est par exemple celles des conditions dans lesquelles les amphores à vin d'Apulie, de type Lamboglia 2, furent diffusées en Ultérieure et du lien supposé avec la présence de Pompée et l'essor des clientèles pompéiennes dans la province. C'est, dans un tout autre ordre d'idée, la question du transport d'amphores vides vers les usines à salaisons du littoral atlantique et méditerranéen du Détroit de Gibraltar qui ne disposaient pas nécessairement de leurs propres ateliers de fabrication, et que l'on pourrait également envisager pour la région de Malaca. Last but not least, c'est aussi l'importance donnée à Malaca dans le trafic commercial méditerranéen, à la fois comme port de réception d'une partie de ce trafic et comme port d'exportation, plus particulièrement des métaux produits dans la Sierra Morena orientale, dans les secteurs de Corduba et de Castulo. Mateo Corredor s'appuie ici sur la présence, plus nombreuse qu'ailleurs, à Malaga même et sur le site minier et métallurgique de La Loba au nord de Cordoue, d'amphores de Tripolitaine anciennes (amphores à huile). L'auteur reprend ici la thèse défendue notamment par E. Melchor Gil à partir des découvertes numismatiques, tout en étant conscient qu'il ne suffit pas de relier deux points pour tracer un axe commercial. Mais il manque à la démonstration les témoignages archéologiques (lingots) sur cette éventuelle exportation des métaux de la Sierra Morena aux deux derniers siècles avant notre ère par Malaga. Au-delà de la route suivie par ces métaux, par voie fluviale jusqu'à Gades, qui est exclue trop rapidement par l'auteur, ou par voie de terre jusqu'au port de Malaca, c'est la question des débouchés des métaux produits dans la Sierra Morena à la fin de l'époque républicaine qui est posée. Mais c'est là une question secondaire par apport à la problématique générale. Mateo Corredor a raison, et surtout tout à fait le droit, de la poser, comme toutes les autres, montrant que son travail n'est qu'un jalon supplémentaire, et important, dans une œuvre de longue haleine.



Notes:


1.   J. Molina Vidal, La dinámica comercial romana entre Italia e Hispania Citerior, Diputación Provincial de Alicante, Instituto Alicantino de Cultura Juan Gil-Albert, Universidad de Alicante, 1997.
2.   E. García Vargas, Hispalis (Sevilla, España) y el comercio del Mediterráneo en el Alto Imperio romano. El testimonio de las ánforas, dans S. Keay (éd.), Rome, Portus and the Mediterranean, Archaeological Monographs of the British School at Rome, 21, Londres, 2012, p. 247-266.

(read complete article)