Bryn Mawr Classical Review

Michaela Konrad, Christian Witschel (ed.), Römische Legionslager in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen - Nuclei spätantik-frühmittelalterlichen Lebens? Abhandlungen der Philosophisch-historische Klasse. Neue Folge, 138. München: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2011. Pp. vi, 666. ISBN 9783769601268. €224.00.

Reviewed by Tyler V. Franconi, University of Oxford (tyler.franconi@arch.ox.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

Table of Contents

The transition between the late Roman and early medieval worlds remains a central issue in Late Antique scholarship. Since Gibbon, scholars have tended to categorize the end of the Roman Empire on a sliding scale that runs from collapse to transition, using a range of historical and archaeological arguments. The recent volume by Konrad and Witschel aims to address this period of transition from the perspectives of 25 papers that deal with a wide range of material and sites organized into five sections. Starting with several thematic studies, the book turns to sites from individual frontier provinces. By considering the history and archaeology of each legionary camp and surrounding settlement between Xanten, Germany and Budapest, Hungary, the papers in this volume produce a detailed panorama of the different trajectories of Roman towns and fortresses in this transitional phase. Military sites are favored, it is argued, because they were particularly influential centers of settlement, power, religion, and economy. The volume itself is well produced, with many high-quality images, maps, and plans which add to the value and usefulness of the work. The entire volume, except the paper by Mathisen, is in German, though English summaries of each paper are included at the end of the book. The expensive price tag for the volume might perhaps be the main drawback for many readers.

The extensive introduction by Konrad and Witschel is an excellent overview of the themes of the book as well as the general state of the field. They outline the main goals of the conference and publication across six topics (4-5): the transformation of the late Roman military, the continuity of civilian settlement clustered around military sites, the relationship between "Romans" and "non-Romans" in this period, the methodological and theoretical issues inherent in ethnographic studies, the role of military sites in religious and economic life, and the settlement history of these sites in the early Middle Ages. The subsequent review of historical, archaeological, and numismatic evidence for the time period and regions in question offers a useful overview of the status quo and makes strong attempts to address both the potential of and the problems inhering in each category of data.

The thematic papers of the first section expand upon a number of issues introduced by the editors. Pohl examines the historiography behind the study of the late Roman/early medieval period, especially the contributions of various Anglophone authors. Dietz follows this with an examination of the historical evidence for the late Roman border defense system and discusses the accuracy of the Notitia Dignitatum for the Raetian garrison. She goes on to argue that the central Roman government exercised progressively less power into the fifth century, emphasizing the importance of local military commanders and German warlords. Nuber examines the archaeological evidence for the dramatic changes in Roman fortifications between the late third century and the end of the fourth. Fortifications of this period are generally smaller with thicker, higher walls with projecting towers and deeper ditches. He particularly emphasizes evidence from the Rhine, focusing on the sites of Strasbourg, Mainz, Bonn, Xanten, and Remagen, where old forts were either partially or entirely rebuilt in new styles. These sites also offer a contrast to newly built sites because they maintained a large inner area that eventually came to be co-habited by civilians. Kulikowski offers an overview of the state of research in late Roman "barbarian" identity, critiquing both the "Vienna-school" of ethnogenesis and Anglophone proponents of "collapse". He argues that comparative historical studies are the way forward, with careful reference to problematic archaeological material. The final paper of this section, by Bierbrauer, demonstrates the difficulties of such ethnographic studies by focusing on the so-called Alatheus-Safrax group, formed by the Ostrogoths, Alans, and Huns in the late fourth century. He argues that many such groups, which are mentioned in textual sources, cannot be easily documented by archaeological research.

The second section offers four papers focusing on sites in Germania II. Otten examines developments at the site of the Colonia Ulpia Traiana, modern Xanten, after the late third century. Both the earlier legionary fortress and city were destroyed and subsequently re-occupied following the early fourth century construction of the 16 ha fortification over the earlier town center. This site continued to be inhabited by the thirtieth legion through the fourth century, as well as by a substantial civilian population. By the late fourth century, settlement again shifted to focus on the area of the modern day cathedral which was the center of the medieval town. Trier examines the transformation of Köln, capital of Germania II, from AD 400-700. He demonstrates that the city remained the most important settlement of the region even as it transitioned into Frankish rule, and settlement continued in most zones unbroken, particularly as the city became a new center of Christianity. Päffgen discusses the changing settlement patterns in the hinterland of Köln, excellently documented in the detailed work of the local archaeological agencies, largely in part due to the large-scale strip mining in the Braunkohlegebiet of western Nordrhein-Westfalen. He demonstrates through a comparison of the different regions of the province how rural settlement deteriorated from the mid-third century onwards as a result of simultaneous political, military, and environmental changes. Later Merovingian occupation did not continue to use most Roman rural sites, but instead founded their own. Müssemeier details the developments around the legionary fortress of Bonn, which continued to be garrisoned by soldiers through the early fifth century. When the fortress was renovated in the late third century, most of the surrounding canabae were abandoned and civilians moved into the fortifications. This led to substantial transformations of the interior buildings, including a church by the sixth century. The construction of another church in the vicinity of the modern cathedral caused settlement to shift in the Middle Ages, abandoning the old Roman place.

The third section covers the provinces of Germania I and Maxima Sequanorum with papers covering the sites of Mainz, Strasbourg, Kaiseraugst and Alamannia. Mainz and Strasbourg both witnessed unbroken habitation between the late Roman and early medieval periods, demonstrated in Mainz by small finds and in Strasbourg by excavated Grubenhäuser and small finds. The interesting contrast between the sites, and indeed along much of the Rhine, is that the legionary fortress at Mainz was not part of the post-Roman settlement. The wider view of developments in the hinterland of Kaiseraugst is welcome, and indeed such contextual detail could have added to the discussions of the other two sites. This site, unlike Mainz or Strasbourg, was a new construction of the fourth century and did not see prolonged habitation after the end of Roman rule, as nearby Basel rose in prominence. Mathisen's article on the relationship between Rome and the Alamanni significantly nuances our understanding of how this region, once the Roman Agri Decumates, became a melting pot of Roman and non-Roman culture. Like the previous section, these papers highlight the quality of archaeological work being done in the region and the wealth of information that can be gained from it.

Moving now to the Danube, the following section examines the sites of Raetia II and Noricum Ripense in two papers dealing with Regensburg, one on the legionary camps and auxiliary forts of Noricum, and one on the city of Enns, site of Roman Lauriacum. Papers by Konrad and Störmer detail how Regensburg, like many sites along the Rhine, had a solid habitation through to the early sixth century, though they outline the problems in documenting habitation beyond this point. Störmer is more prepared to see continuity of habitation through to the early medieval period. Further east in Noricum, Ubl outlines how legionary camps and auxiliary forts alike became centers of mixed populations of soldiers and civilians, though there is little evidence of continuity beyond the end of Roman rule. The next paper on Lauriacum by Igl, however, argues that this city did see continuous habitation beyond the Roman period.

The final section contains seven papers on the provinces of Pannonia I and Valeria. Papers on the sites of Vindobona, Carnuntum, Brigetio, and Aquincum by Mosser, Gugl, Borhy, and Zsidi are followed by wider views of Pannonian fortifications by Heinrich-Tamáska, the emigration of new populations into the Pannonian region by Bratož, and an overview of general developments of the Middle Danube region between the fourth and sixth centuries AD by Vida. Roman cities at Vindobona, Carnuntum, and Brigetio show no signs of sustained habitation beyond the Roman period, though Aquincum does. Heinrich-Tamáska's paper on fortifications deeper inside Pannonia demonstrates (using small-find assemblages) that such variation in habitation was common on smaller sites as well. The issue of continuity is rooted in the nature of post-Roman populations in the area who are discussed by Bratož and Vida; the migration period saw great influxes of Huns and Germanic groups into the region, many of whom were not interested in settling in Roman cities, and the previous inhabitants fled in the face of their arrival. The region did not recover until centuries later.

In total, this volume of papers demonstrates the immense contribution that site-based archaeological investigation is able to add to the discussion of historical issues within these provinces. The extremely detail-oriented traditions of Roman provincial archaeology provide high-resolution chronological data which demonstrate the immense complexity of the late Roman/early medieval period. The amount of variation seen across these sites reveals how different the experience of Late Antiquity was, and how complicated it is to construct viable arguments based on available evidence. Using legionary sites as study cases is not unproblematic, however, when attempting to provide regional overviews. The papers that contextualize sites within their wider hinterlands may do a better job of this than those that simply focus on individual sites. The result is that some important sites that were not themselves legionary postings are excluded, such as Trier, Worms, Speyer, Augsburg.. However, one cannot possibly hope to fit that amount of information into a single volume, so the exclusions of these sites and their hinterlands must be forgiven. This small criticism aside, the papers within this volume do a commendable job of uniting archaeological, historical, and theoretical approaches and produce an extremely useful volume for the study of late antiquity in the west and north. Overall, this volume is now critical reading for scholars of Late Antiquity, and it will take a prominent position in the discussion surrounding the nature and evidence for late Roman and post-Roman continuity and tradition for many years to come.

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Kathryn Welch, Magnus Pius: Sextus Pompeius and the Transformation of the Roman Republic. Roman culture in an age of civil war. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2012. Pp. xxv, 364. ISBN 9781905125449. $100.00.

Reviewed by Fred K. Drogula, Providence College (fdrogula@providence.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

[The Table of Contents is listed below.]

Many of us who teach Roman history have struggled with the problem of whether and how to include Sextus Pompeius in our courses. He is obviously important as the youngest son of Pompey the Great and as a sort of 'pirate king' who caused a lot trouble for Octavian, but he does not seem to have been a major player in any of the decisive events of this period. Too young to have played a leading role in the battles against Julius Caesar, he fled to Sicily after the Battle of Thapsus (45 BC), where he built up a power base that successfully threatened Roman shipping for years. Although he scored some significant successes against Octavian, he was defeated by Agrippa at the Battle of Naulochos in 36 BC, after which he fled to the East where Antony's men executed him in 35 BC. Seen from this résumé, Sextus appears to be a mere afterthought in the great conflicts that dominated this period. At best, he was a lingering 'Pompeian' who carried on a small war of limited importance against the triumvirs, but more often Sextus is relegated to a secondary (or even tertiary) figure in this period, a 'pirate' or 'adventurer' whose activities had little to do with the fall of the Republic.

Kathryn Welch has challenged this dismissal of Sextus in her new book, and argues that he was a full partner with Brutus and Cassius in the leadership of the Republican opposition to the triumvirs, and therefore the Republican cause and its war against the triumvirs did not end with the Battle of Philippi, but rather carried on for another six years under Sextus' leadership. She argues that Sextus' role as a leader in the Republican movement has not been given proper attention in previous work, and as a consequence the Battle of Philippi has been given much greater significance as a turning point in Roman history than it properly deserves. Although the deaths of Brutus and Cassius were devastating losses, the Republican opposition to the triumvirs continued until 36 BC—a suggestion that, if accepted, would significantly change our understanding of this period. By incorporating Sextus more centrally into the events of 49 to 36 BC, Welch's book provides new insight for our understanding of the civil war that dominated this period.

The main challenge with this subject is the poverty of the evidence on Sextus, who is barely mentioned in surviving accounts until his appearance after the Battle of Philippi, and whose actions during and after that battle were deliberately downplayed by ancient authors (p. 15-23). To support and strengthen her argument, therefore, Welch has researched Sextus' coinage, his naval tactics, and his connections to other Republican leaders such as Statius Murcus and Scribonius Libo to demonstrate his extensive interactions with the Republicans and his leadership role in their opposition to the triumvirs.

Chapter One ('The Lost Republic') establishes the central point that undue emphasis has traditionally been given to the Battle of Philippi as the final conclusion of the Republican movement, which has led historians to view Sextus and his supporters as 'Pompeians' rather than true Republicans. She believes this view has clouded the image of Sextus and reduced his 'respectability' to that of a pirate or adventurer. Instead, she suggests (p. 9) replacing the identity 'Pompeian' with 'anti-Triumviral', which places Sextus within a larger political movement. Sextus' identification with Republican values is introduced through a brief examination of his identification with the values of pietas and iustitia. The second chapter ('Sons of Neptune') surveys Sextus' activities between 49 and 46 BC to demonstrate that "rather than a bit player, a revised narrative of the clash between the Republicans and Caesar can demonstrate that Sextus Pompeius inherited a cause and used an established strategy to fight for it" (p. 43). Welch agrees with von Fritz that Pompey had developed a naval strategy before 49 BC to counter Caesar's anticipated invasion of Italy: his superior naval resources would control all the sea lanes around Italy, thereby trapping Caesar in Italy where he could be starved into submission without need for bloody battles between citizen armies (pp. 55-6). ¹ This plan fell apart when some of Pompey's aristocratic allies refused the abandon Italy, but it would have a powerful influence on Pompey's son Sextus. The chapter ends with a survey of Cato's role in the Republican leadership following the Battle of Pharsalus, which reinforced in Sextus' mind the value of his father's strategy to win bloodless victories in Italy through naval superiority, a strategy that would become a cornerstone of Republican thinking.

In the next two chapters ('The Pompeian Inheritance' and 'Refashioning Republicanism after the Ides of March') Welch combs through the surviving evidence to trace Sextus' Republican thinking. Chapter Three looks at the Spanish War, and argues (pp. 102-3) that the Republicans—now under the leadership of Sextus' elder brother Gnaeus—shifted the justification for their war from public policy to personal emotion. Making pietas his battle cry, Gnaeus shifted the Republican value system from legal justice to personal piety. After Gnaeus' death at the Battle of Munda, Sextus adopted his brother's emphasis on pietas, even taking the cognomen Pius for himself (p. 108). Welch sums up (p. 115) the chapter thus: "[Sextus'] role as 'the son of Neptune' was a direct result of the strategic choices made by his father and his father's allies in the first five years of the war." Chapter Four transitions the reader to Roman politics following the assassination of Caesar, and examines how the major players sought to present themselves as champions of the Republic and Republican ideals. Welch uses Cicero's letters to reconstruct Sextus' activities during this period, and she concludes that he was actively involved in politics in Rome, and that he "was willing to negotiate as part of the broader Republican faction and also that Marcus Brutus and Cicero were provisionally prepared to welcome him into it" (p. 133). She studies Cicero's Philippics to explore Cicero's alliance with Octavian and the ideological differences and interpretations of Republicanism that separated Caesar's heir from Pompey's son. These differences are used to illustrate the growing affinity between Sextus and Caesar's assassins, who were united in their opposition to the triumvirs.

In the fifth chapter ('A Republican Triumvirate?') Welch suggests that Sextus joined with Brutus and Cassius to form a united front against the triumvirs: "the power of the phrase 'Brutus and Cassius' must be set aside and a very different triumvirate allowed to take its place…" (p. 164). In this view, Sextus' naval superiority in the western Mediterranean was strategically linked to Brutus' and Cassius' control of the eastern Mediterranean, including their control of the sea: "even though our texts and commentators, ancient and contemporary, attempt to hide the fact, the res publica had positioned its defender in the West as well as in the East" (p. 169). The chapter explores how Brutus, Cassius, and Sextus resurrected the elder Pompey's strategy of controlling the seas in their effort to contain the triumvirs in Italy. Welch supports this argument well with a study of the striking similarities in the coinage and imagery used by the Republican leaders at the time, which suggests a unified message and purpose. The chapter ends with a brief description of the Battle of Philippi, and argues that the deaths of Brutus and Cassius left Sextus "an obvious contender for the leadership of the Republican forces, and the Roman world was well aware of it" (p. 197).

Chapters Six ('Pompeianum Tempus') and Seven ('Bellum Siculum') present Sextus' naval activities against the triumvirs from 41 to 36 BC as part of the same Republican mission that Brutus and Cassius had championed at Philippi. This is the best-documented period of Sextus' life, so these chapters are rich with detail. Welch argues that Sextus cooperated with other Republican commanders to employ his father's strategy by laying naval siege to Italy in order to starve his enemy (Octavian) into submission without launching a bloody and unpopular land invasion ("the pincer movement that Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus had originally wanted in 49 was finally in place" [p. 215]). At the same time, Sextus worked to break the triumvirate apart by seeking an alliance with Antony's brother Lucius and ultimately with Antony himself. The chapter follows the dynamic and shifting relationships between Antony, Octavian, and Sextus down to the treaty of Misenum (39 BC). Chapter Seven covers the last seven years of Sextus' life, including a detailed study of his victories against Octavian during the Sicilian War, and his ultimate defeat by Agrippa at Naulochus in 36 BC. Welch emphasizes that the outcome of this war was not a foregone conclusion at the time, since Octavian suffered considerable damage to his reputation in Rome for pursuing it, while popular esteem for Sextus gradually increased because of his successful promotion of his Republican values and his avoidance of battles in Italy. The chapter ends with Sextus' flight to the East, where he was captured and executed by Antony's agents. The last chapter ('Pietas at the Dawn of the Principate') looks at Sextus' immediate legacy, including Octavian's co-option of the ideas of res publica and pietas in the construction of his Principate. An appendix on the difficulties of dating certain numismatic inscriptions, a bibliography, and an index comprise the end matter.

Welch's book makes several important contributions. First, she redeems Sextus from the shadowy status of 'pirate' and gives him a leading role in the most important events of his day. In doing so, she has given us more information and greater insight into the civil war between the Caesarians and Republicans, and her reconsideration of the period is excellent and thought-provoking. Second, she argues persuasively that the singular importance of the Battle of Philippi as the end of the civil war between Caesarians and Republicans must be reconsidered, and that greater attention should be given to the Battle of Naulochos as being a critical turning point for Antony and (in particular) Octavian. Third, her arguments about the use of naval warfare during this period are superb and deserve close attention, since they expand our thinking about the Romans' understanding and use of naval strategy. Fourth, her later chapters demonstrate the frequent tenuousness of Octavian's position in the years following Caesar's assassination, giving us greater insight into the challenges confronting his rise to power, and in particular how his struggles against Sextus helped shape his later policies.

Welch has built a strong argument and she uses her evidence well. As with so many aspects of ancient Rome, the surviving information on Sextus is limited and Welch's conclusions will generate discussion and debate among historians, but her use of numismatic evidence and her analysis of the Republicans' naval tactics are very persuasive contributions to the literary material. The book is well written and illustrated, and Welch writes in a lively style that engages the reader easily. Her reconstruction of the events between 44 and 35 BC provides new insights and challenges older models, and students of the late Republic and the early Augustan Principate will certainly want to read this book for the important new perspectives it brings to these periods. Welch's text is a welcome reassessment of the final decades of the Republic, and it may lead more than one professor to rethink how he or she presents Sextus Pompeius in lectures.

Table of Contents

1. The lost Republic
2. Sons of Neptune
3. The Pompeian inheritance
4. Refashioning Republicanism after the Ides of March
5. A Republican Triumvirate?
6. Pompeianum tempus
7. Bellum Siculum
8. Pietas at the dawn of the Principate
Appendix: Imp. and Imp. iterum: an unreliable guide to dating

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Notes:

1.   Von Fritz, K. (1942), "Pompey's policy before and after the outbreak of the civil war of 49 BC," TAPA 73, 145-80.

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John J. Collins, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A Biography. Lives of great religious books. Princeton; Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2012. Pp. xiv, 272. ISBN 9780691143675. $24.95.

Reviewed by Roger S. Bagnall, Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, New York University (roger.bagnall@nyu.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

This book is part of a series called "Lives of Great Religious Books," with subjects ranging from Genesis to Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Letters and Papers from Prison. Leaving aside the dubious conceit behind the series,¹ there is much to like in this book. It is concise, clearly written, intelligible to those outside Scrolls scholarship, and fair-minded in dealing with the many controversies surrounding the Scrolls. Collins does not conceal his own opinions, but he is fair in representing even those he regards as clearly wrong or disingenuous; "maverick" (a favored word) scholars receive a hearing.

The preface sketches the outlines of the discovery, character, and history of the finds, all to be set out in more detail in the following chapters. But the key question that Collins wants to ask (xii) is "what difference the Scrolls have made to the study of ancient Judaism and early Christianity, and to probe what has been at stake in the debates that have often been so acrimonious. Are the Scrolls really worthy of all the attention they have received and continue to receive?" Not surprisingly, the answer is positive.

Chapter 1 covers the discoveries, acquisitions, editorial history, and major theories about the nature of the Scrolls. The cast of characters is large (there is a partial prosopography on 243-46). The Scrolls were found in Jordanian territory, initially by beduin (sold through Christian middlemen), then in excavations mainly by foreign scholars (the Ecole Biblique and ASOR), excavating under Jordanian auspices. Israelis bought some of the material that came on the market, but the Jordanian authorities excluded Israelis and Jews more generally from publishing the material under their control. Partly as a result of this exclusion, early scholarly work tended to focus more on the Scrolls' relevance for early Christianity than on their place in the Judaism of the period. But Israeli interest in acquisition suggests that the relevance for Judaism was clearly visible from the start, and it is the Israel Antiquities Authority that runs the Leon Levy Dead Sea Scrolls Digital Library.

Chapter 2 presents the Essenes, a Jewish sect explicitly known only from classical authors (Philo, Josephus, and Pliny), the nature of which was debated long before the discovery of the Scrolls. Collins gives a balanced account, which acknowledges that there are discrepancies between the evidence of the Scrolls and the accounts of ancient authors, and that there is a problem of circularity in first identifying the Scrolls as Essene on the basis of similarities to those accounts and then using the Scrolls to correct the classical sources. But errors or misplaced emphases in classical sources were suspected long before the Scrolls were known, and Collins thinks that on balance the evidence favors the identification, giving weight to Frank Moore Cross's point that it is uneconomical to suppose the existence of another group just like the Essenes except in a few points, who are never mentioned in any ancient sources (classical or Jewish). Collins notes how strident the polemics have been, as the stakes have been seen to include the nature of ancient Judaism and judgments about rabbinic Judaism, on the one hand, and the originality or Jewishness of Christianity, on the other.

Chapter 3 discusses the site of Qumran, excavated by Roland de Vaux, unfortunately not using stratigraphic methods. Collins is to my mind too willing to excuse him for this failure. There was a pre-exilic fort on the site. There are two Hellenistic-Roman phases, the first poorly dated for both beginning and end; the second phase evidently ends in a Roman destruction in 68 CE. Interpretation of the finds has been heavily driven by presuppositions about the occupants and in de Vaux's case by his tendency to borrow monastic terminology. But most scholars see Qumran as a religious community, partly because other interpretations are unconvincing, partly because most assume some relationship to the textual finds in nearby caves. Collins notes other theories and sets out cogent objections to each. The extensive presence of mikvaoth (as well as cisterns, the two being distinguishable) strongly supports the hypothesis of a group with purity concerns.

The nearby cemetery, in several sections, is large, over 1000 graves, and apparently not consistent with a very small settlement. It is unclear where everyone actually slept; the excavated buildings are communal facilities, and "upstairs" does not seem like an adequate answer. Some graves were closer to the settlement than is permitted by rabbinic law. Mostly the graves were not excavated (and probably will not be) because of religious objections from the Orthodox. A significant but minority presence of females and children among the burials has given rise to controversy, but Collins points out that this is also common in Christian monastic contexts. There was also a toilet inside the settlement, something prohibited by the Temple Scroll, which gives a 3000-cubit minimum distance (ca. 1.6 km), more than is permitted for walking on the Sabbath. Altogether, the remains offer some embarrassments for the Essene hypothesis; but they are no less problematic for supposing the site to be a villa, trading station, or fort.

Chapter 4 covers the Scrolls and Christianity, a particular focus in the first years of editorial work but still present today. Some scholars saw the analogies with Christianity as very strong, others not. The community's rootedness in Hebrew tradition could be taken as a vindication of Christianity's authentic nature or as undermining its originality, according to one's taste. Collins deals firmly (though not unsympathetically) with the extremes, like A. Dupont-Sommer's attempt to claim a high correlation between Jesus and the Teacher of Righteousness in the commentary on Habakkuk, one of the earliest scrolls to be known; John Allegro's remarkable theories in his career-wrecking book The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross; and Robert Eisenman's claims that the Scrolls represent actual Christianity. After reviewing the supposed similarities between the Scrolls and early Christianity, Collins retains only a modest number. Christianity, in his view, came out of the same milieu and produced similar types of texts; but "the differences are at least as striking as the similarities."

Perhaps closest to Collins' own interests is chapter 5, on the Scrolls and Judaism. The Scrolls include a number of texts with a strongly dualistic character, and quite a few that are apocalyptic; some unite these characteristics. Although apocalyptic is hardly unique to the Scrolls community (or communities; Collins emphasizes that the finds may represent multiple libraries), the dualism is alien to the canonical scriptures or rabbinic Judaism. Similarity to Zoroastrianism has been noted, but there is no consensus about how far it reaches or where it comes from.

Publication of the Temple Scroll and other texts (esp. 4QMMT, the "Halakic Letter"), as Israeli scholars became more involved, has swung discussion since the 1960s and 1970s toward a focus on the Scrolls' central concern with religious law and their authors' opposition to what can be identified as the views of the Pharisees and, later, the rabbis, with the Scrolls always being more rigorist. The community clearly rejected the views dominating the Jerusalem temple, from which the sect had withdrawn. Collins favors a date for this break in the second quarter of the first century BCE. There are elements in the Scrolls that reflect commonalities between the community and the rest of Judaism, among them the single God, shared scriptures, concerns about purity and observance, and ethnic identity. But there are many differences as well, and diversity in Judaism was not a "contented pluralism" but hostile. In this light, he sees the apocalyptic side as a way in which the community dealt with being the "outs" of the present day. The legal and apocalyptic sides are thus not antithetical but complementary.

Chapter 6, on the Scrolls and the Bible, assesses how this enormous infusion of material has transformed textual scholarship on the Hebrew Bible. Clearly, multiple traditions of individual books were in circulation, with some closer to the Masoretic Text tradition, which is clearly not a later invention, and others to that translated in the Septuagint. After a period in which the tradition is highly diverse, the MT strain becomes dominant in the first century CE. This was not, apparently, a question of sectarian preference.

There was no Biblical canon in this period; although it is true that every canonical book except Esther has been found at Qumran, some canonical books are rare (e.g., Chronicles), and many non-canonical are common. Interpretation of scripture is also well represented, especially in commentaries. These differ in character from later midrash by their emphasis on interpreting texts in the light of a present seen as the end time. Although these commentaries are clearly sectarian, they have some traits in common with both Christian interpretation in the New Testament and with midrash.

The final chapter covers "the Battle for the Scrolls." Collins recounts the editorial history and controversies over control of the Scrolls. He concludes that the more outlandish and publicized personal battles have been exceptions rather than the rule, arguing that the field is in general relatively collegial. In conclusion, he remarks that the Scrolls do not have any material consequences for religions per se, as they do not affect the revealed basis of Judaism and Christianity. They do, however, tell us a lot about the complexity of the Jewish world in these centuries and the matrix of ideas within which Christianity arose. "As scholars have increasingly recognized in the last quarter century, the Scrolls are documents of ancient Judaism."

In a discussion of particular significance for fields like papyrology and epigraphy, Collins argues (236) that

"the release of the Scrolls was unequivocally a good thing. Despite the dire warnings of the official editors, chaos did not result. There has been wild speculation on occasion, to be sure, but the marketplace of ideas has a way of eventually separating the wheat from the chaff. The whole episode can serve as a lesson for the way future discoveries should be handled. The privileges of editors to whom material is assigned cannot be extended indefinitely. Scholarship is best served by making the material available promptly in provisional form rather than waiting for supposedly definitive editions that might take a lifetime to produce."

There is much here with which I sympathize, and certainly papyrological opinion has gradually been shifting in this direction. But this view perhaps gives inadequate weight to the intellectual investments made by editors and the risks of complete openness to the careers of graduate students and younger faculty, for example that a mediocre edition of a text might make it impossible for them to publish a better edition to which they have devoted years of effort. Of course the Scrolls represented an extreme case (although not unique; one thinks of the inscriptions of Cos, the Derveni papyrus or the Nag Hammadi Library). Firm limitations on time allowed for the editio princeps are probably the best means of balancing these interests.²

The Scrolls are of course also a famous example of a find of manuscripts of which much reached its present homes through the murky processes of the antiquities market. Collins describes this history without a lot of comment. Perhaps more salient here is the almost equally inglorious record of national authorities: the exclusion of Jewish scholars from work on the scrolls under Jordanian control in the earlier stages, but also the litigious approach taken by the Israel Antiquities Authority until, after scathing criticism in the press (Collins mentions William Safire's blistering column), it stopped trying to control access to the Scrolls. Narrowly nationalistic considerations have by no means vanished from the broader world of the management of ancient texts and artifacts today. "Insular jerks" (in Safire's phrase) are not the monopoly of any country.

Following chapter 4 is a section with a map (not topographical), plans of the Qumran area and original fort as well as the settlement, and photos of Qumran and the caves. The volume concludes with a prosopography, endnotes, glossary, and indices (ancient texts, names, places, and subjects).

In sum, this is an excellent introduction to a complex subject, lucid and remarkably irenic. I am sorry to report, however, that the review copy was shoddily bound, and pages are falling out of it.

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Notes:

1.   "Great" is a matter of opinion, and "religious" is a dubious category for Josephus and even Dante. Collins' preface anticipates criticism of the "book" character of the Dead Sea Scrolls, but says "Nonetheless, the Scrolls now exist as a distinct corpus, with a life of its own." But a corpus is not a book, and indeed Collins proceeds to undermine any thought that unity and uniformity are to be found in the corpus from the Qumran caves.
2.   That said, I hope that before long the Papyrological Editor will make it possible to open up the editorial process from the start if the editor wishes to—and some will.

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Helena Dettmer, LeaAnn A. Osburn (ed.), Latin for the New Millennium: Student Text, Level 3. Mundelein, IL: Bolchazy-Carducci Publishers, 2012. Pp. xxxv, 623. ISBN 9780865167605. $75.00.

Reviewed by Peter Kuhlmann, Seminar für Klassische Philologie, University of Göttingen (pkuhlma@gwdg.de)

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This volume of Latin readings for intermediate level classrooms offers a selection of original texts from the classical period of Latin literature with commentaries and other helpful material based on the contributors' teaching experience. One aim of this textbook is to enable students to read and analyse their first unadapted Latin texts from prose and poetry and to prepare them for the demands of the AP Latin curriculum; the other important aim is to motivate students to read and to enjoy classical Latin literature

The book is divided into three main parts: Part 1 contains authors of the late republic (Caesar, Catullus, Cicero), part 2 authors of the Augustan age (Vergil, Horace, Ovid), part 3 authors from the post-antique era (mainly Erasmus, two pieces of Petrarch and John Park). Each author is represented by selected well-known text passages, e.g. the beginning of Caesar's De bello Gallico (1.1-7), parts of Cicero's speeches Pro Archia poeta and In Catilinam, passages from Vergil's Aeneid (books 1 and 4) and from Ovid's Metamorphoses. After these three main chapters follow five appendices with information about Roman history (in tabular form), Latin meter, figures of speech and extensive material on grammatical forms, paradigms and syntax – nearly a complete Latin grammar. At the end of the volume, a glossary contains a complete vocabulary for the texts.

Since most students beginning to read original Latin texts are ignorant about the historical context and the audience of these texts, each chapter gives fundamental information about the political and social structure of the Roman Empire, supported by many illustrative pictures and maps, and about the authors' biographies and works. The Latin texts are presented in short passages – sometimes only single sentences – with macrons above the long vowels which help students (and teachers) to pronounce the texts correctly. In the Latin texts the ellipses are completed so that students can easier translate the passage and become aware which elements can be omitted in Latin speech, e.g. the beginning of Caesar's De bello Gallico (p. 18): "Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres, quarum unam (partem) incolunt Belgae, aliam (partem incolunt) Aquitani...". This is a very useful device, because such ellipses constitute one of the most frequent difficulties for students of Latin when translating unadapted texts. Furthermore the texts are provided with lexical and grammatical commentaries and "study tips" that help to understand special grammatical features of the passages and to facilitate the translation into English. One example is a study tip (p. 19) for the genitive plural quarum of the relative pronoun qui, quae, quod, which is commonly translated "whose", but sometimes (as in Caes. B.G. 1,1) the appropriate translation must be "of which". It is just such a detail which can be a great difficulty in the classroom and lead to mistakes in tests of Latin, because many students have no problems in analysing case, gender and number of the grammatical forms, but they fail in the appropriate translation. For each passage the textbook also contains exercises on the grammatical features of the text, useful tips for learning new words and phraseology ("vocabulary builder") and more systematic information on special questions of Latin grammar ("language facts") such as the use of pronouns, comparative and superlative, adverbs, and gerunds.

All these advantages, however, might be a disadvantage, too, for the content of the texts could get lost under the effect of the sheer quantity of aids and additional material for each sentence. At the end of each chapter the students find another version of each passage, but now without commentary, so they can test if they are able to understand the whole text without help. Under the category "essay" the book makes some suggestions for interpreting the texts.

To sum up, this comprehensive volume is undoubtedly an excellent textbook that will motivate students of Latin literature who want to learn to read and translate their first unadapted texts. It offers much material to contextualize Roman literature and the most important authors and genres, which can be a good incentive for students to enjoy classical Latin texts. In addition, the volume seems to be very suitable for developing students' skills and competency in analysing and interpreting classical literature in its historical and cultural context. So, either the whole volume, or at least parts of it, can be warmly recommended to everyone who teaches Latin literature in English-speaking classrooms.

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Ido Israelowich, Society, Medicine and Religion in the Sacred Tales of Aelius Aristides. Mnemosyne supplements. Monographs on Greek and Latin Language and Literature, 341. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2012. Pp. ix, 206. ISBN 9789004229082. $140.00.

Reviewed by Johann Goeken, Université de Strasbourg (jgoeken@unistra.fr)

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While the surviving orations of Aelius Aristides (117 - after 180 CE) illustrate the main tendencies of the Second Sophistic, they also present a strong religious dimension. This characteristic is largely explained by the orator's biography. He fell ill in late 143 CE (cf. 48, 60; 50, 1-2), just when he had planned to go to Rome. He then suffered from various diseases and never completely recovered. Thus he regularly went to the Pergamene Asclepieion to find remedies for his pains, which the god delivered via dreams and omens. Asclepius not only prescribed treatments to Aristides, but also gave him helpful advice about his rhetorical career (which was often hindered by health problems). Aristides describes these communications in the Sacred Tales, whose autobiographical approach have made them famous, while Aristides' other orations still remain largely unknown.

Ido Israelowich's elegant book, the result of an Oxford doctoral thesis in history, has an introduction, three chapters and a conclusion, as well as a bibliography and a brief index of nouns and notions. Dedicated to the study of society, medicine, and religion in the Sacred Tales, the book focuses on the medical dimension, demonstrating that the Sacred Tales, particularly when compared with the medical literature and the votive inscriptions from the sanctuaries of Asclepius, represent a mine of valuable information about medical practices and the conception of illness in the 2^nd century CE.

The first chapter presents the corpus and explains when, how and why, the Sacred Tales were written. They were written in the early 170s CE, based on Aristides' memories along with precise notes he took about his dreams and the ensuing prescriptions. Covering two main periods (143-155 and 165-171), the narrative is not chronologic and does not display any narrative suspense. Describing his illness and how the god cured him, Aristides is adamant about the protection he received (and still receives) from Asclepius. While composing the Sacred Tales to praise and thank the god, but also to recount a specific experience (parallels of which can be found in aretalogical inscriptions), he follows his friends' advice and demonstrates his ethos as a superior orator (because he has been saved by the god). Aristides' redemption narrative has not always been well regarded, especially during the Byzantine period. This disrepute lasted at least until the beginning of the 20^th century.¹

The second chapter analyses in detail the relation Aelius Aristides has with illness and with those who can cure him. Ido Israelowich studies Aristides' treatments and the health-care providers he consulted, as well as the role dreams play in the recovery process. He also recounts the Sophist's medical biography, and sheds light on how patients, disease and physicians are conceptualized in the Sacred Tales. This kind of research is particularly interesting because it brings to the fore the point of view of a patient who is familiar with medicine, albeit not a specialist. Drawing his inspiration from the work of Arthur Kleinman, Thomas Kuhn, and Tamsyn Barton, the author reconstructs the "Health-Care System" wherein Aristides evolves (a system where religion, philosophy and tradition are fundamental and in which the medical profession is quite well respected), to show that the orator shares the views of the people around him on medicine, and that the treatments he follows are not odd. It was normal to consult physicians, gymnastic trainers, and the Asclepieia's staff, and also take into account the dreams sent by the divinity. As for the orator himself, he conceives of his condition as a collection of symptoms rather than the consequence of a particular ailment. And it appears that Aristides' rhetorical career and his illness follow a very similar path.

The third chapter is more specifically devoted to the religious dimension of Aristides' medical experiences. Comparing the theological ideas Aristides expresses in the Sacred Tales and in his other discourses (particularly in the hymn Regarding Zeus), Ido Israelowich has to concede that Aristides' religiosity (acknowledging Zeus' supremacy in the pantheon while at the same time preferring to turn to Asclepius for healing) is not eccentric for the period, and that it has literary precedents (Homer, Pindar, Plato, etc.). Evoking once more the role of dreams and oracles, the author finally analyses the importance of cults, celebrations and images, both in the universe of the Sacred Tales and in the 2^nd century Graeco-Roman world. Indeed, while his contemporaries share Aristides' medical discourse, the religious experience described in the Sacred Tales turns out to be equally representative of the period. This does not mean, however, that there is nothing new or original in Aristides' literary and rhetorical approach.

Sticking precisely to the historical framework, Ido Israelowich rightly shows that the Sacred Talesare not the work of an egocentric and neurotic person: it is a salvation tale that attests to an authentic experience, which is both unique and typical of the elite's religiosity in the second century CE. Despite a perhaps over-rigid general framework and a few repetitions, Israelowich offers wise thoughts on the situation of Graeco-Roman medicine during Aristides' period, on key notions in the medical domain (katharsis, pharmakon, etc.), on the apprehension of illness and the absence of a clear distinction between scientific and temple medicine.

This book would have benefitted from a better knowledge of the non-English language bibliography devoted to Aelius Aristides. To cite some examples: Salvatore Nicosia has published (among other things) a very valuable essay on the social and literary context of the Asclepieion of Pergamum: Elio Aristide nell'Asclepieo di Pergamo e la retorica recuperata (Palermo, 1979); the hymn to Zeus has been analysed in particular by Julius Amann in his book Die Zeusrede des Ailios Aristeides (Stuttgart, 1931); the narrative options of the Sacred Tales have been studied by Carla Castelli ("Intenzionalità espressiva e ordine della narrazione nei Discorsi Sacri di Elio Aristide", Acme, 52, 1999, p 197-211 and "Dominante spaziale e struttura argomentativa nel V Discorso Sacro di Elio Aristide", Rhetorica, 27, 2009, p 404-419) and Martin Korenjak ("Unbelievable confusion. Weshalb sind die Hieroi Logoi des Aelius Aristides so wirr?", Hermes, 133, 2005, p. 215-34); the theme of the plague has been tackled by Marie-Henriette Quet in her lengthy article "Éloge par Aelius Aristide des co-empereurs Marc Aurèle et Lucius Verus, à l'issue de la guerre contre les Parthes", Journal des savants, janvier-juin 2002, p. 75-150; fundamental pages for understanding Aristides have been written by Laurent Pernot in his books La rhétorique de l'éloge dans le monde gréco-romain (Paris, 1993) and La rhétorique dans l'Antiquité (Paris, 2000, translated by W. E. Higgins: Rhetoric in Antiquity, 2005) and in his article "Les Discours sacrés d'Aelius Aristide entre médecine, religion et rhétorique", Atti Accademia Pontaniana, vol. LI, 2002, p. 369-383. All these works (and others, a regularly updated list of which can be consulted on the website Classicalsace) give a better understanding of the religious specificity of Aristides' work and the fact that rhetoric does not block the expression of religious feelings. It is a bit hasty to simply say "this work (sc. the Sacred Tales) was intended to be read" (p. 128), because the Sacred Tales were initially composed to be spoken. Likewise, it is strange to claim that "Aristides' lectures on theology in his epideictic orations and in his prose hymns were not written or delivered as 'academic' lectures, but as public displays of rhetorical skill" (p. 138), because epideictic eloquence does not preclude the expression of religious feelings. Consequently, it is risky to state that "their content should, therefore, not be taken as Aristides' genuine thoughts or beliefs" (ibid.). In order to be credible, the orator must express ideas his audience may adhere to; rhetoric expresses religious ideas that are shared (at least in part) by the listeners, whether in a formal eulogy or in a hieros logos with more intimate content.

Generally speaking, it is wise to be wary of some of the datings presented by Charles A. Behr in his book Aelius Aristides and the Sacred Tales (Amsterdam, 1968) and in his full translation P. Aelius Aristides. The Complete Works (Translated into English. Leiden, 1981-1986). For example, it is not sure (as Ido Israelowich acknowledges) that the hymn to Sarapis (or. 45) and the Lalia in honour of Asclepius (or. 42) were pronounced on 25 April 142 and 6 January 177 respectively; similarly, the circumstances of the composition of the hymn to Zeus cannot be established as precisely as Behr would have wished, and the Isthmian Oration (or. 46) definitely does not date from 166.

In detail, it is still preferable to refer to Aristides' text as published by Bruno Keil (Berlin, 1898) and to use the translation provided by Behr with care. For example, in 43, 25 (quoted p. 142) one cannot read καὶ Ἀσκληπιὸς ἰᾶται and translate it as "And Asclepius heals assisting Zeus". "Assisting Zeus" was added by Behr, who proposes the reading: ἰᾶται <συλλαμβάνων Διί>. The text is problematic: Keil suggests correcting the lesson from manuscript C to read καὶ Ἀσκληπιὸς ἰᾶται οὓς ἰᾶσθαι Διὶ φίλτερον (which can be translated as "Asclepius heals those whom it is more dear to Zeus to heal"). Similarly, in 43, 29 (quoted p. 143), it is impossible to read Ζεὺς πάντων πατὴρ καὶ οὐρανοῦ καὶ γῆς καὶ θεῶν καὶ ἀνθρώπων καὶ ποταμῶν καὶ φυτῶν and translate it as "Zeus is the father of all, rivers, heaven, earth, gods, mankind, animals, and plants" ("rivers" should come after "mankind", but where does "animals" come from?). Indeed, it is preferable to read Ζεὺς πάντων πατὴρ καὶ ποταμῶν καὶ οὐρανοῦ καὶ γῆς καὶ θεῶν καὶ ἀνθρώπων καὶ φυτῶν, in other words by reading, with the manuscripts, the group καὶ ποταμῶν athetised by Keil after πατήρ, without the conjecture <καὶ ζῴων> proposed by Schwartz in front of καὶ φυτῶν. The passage therefore means: "Zeus is the father of all, rivers, heaven, earth, gods, mankind, and plants".

Despite these reservations, one can only rejoice at the publication of a book devoted to Aelius Aristides. Ido Israelowich's book is both an informative read and a useful contribution to the history of medicine and the sick, while providing a welcome tool for specialists of Aristides and the Second Sophistic.

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Notes:

1.   Cf. for instance A. Boulanger, Aelius Aristide et la sophistique dans la province d'Asie mineure au II^e siècle de notre ère, Paris, 1923.

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