Bryn Mawr Classical Review

Laurent Coulon, Pascale Giovannelli-Jouanna, Flore Kimmel-Clauzet (ed.), Hérodote et l’Égypte: regards croisés sur le Livre II de l’ Enquête d’Hérodote. Actes de la journée d’étude organisée à la Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée, Lyon, le 10 mai 2010. Collection de la Maison de l’Orient,
51; Série littéraire et philosophique, 18​. Lyon: Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée - Jean Pouilloux​, 2013. Pp. 200. ISBN 9782356680372. €27.00.

Reviewed by Yvona Trnka-Amrhein, Harvard University (ytrnka@fas.harvard.edu)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

This collection of articles devoted to the second book of Herodotus’ Histories addresses the Egyptian logos from a variety of disciplinary perspectives. A very brief introduction (with summaries of the contributions) is given by Pascale Giovannelli-Jouanna, who outlines the volume’s
goal of providing a fresh approach to Herodotus’ Egyptian book with two main themes: literary studies (two articles on the book in general) and links to Egyptian evidence (five articles on specific topics). Coming down on the side of Herodotus’ genuine use of Egyptian sources, the pieces in the
second section collect a range of new Egyptian material relevant to the Histories’ account, and as such they are a valuable update to works like A. B. Lloyd’s foundational commentaries on Book 2.¹ Generally minimizing the focus on Herodotus’ historical methodology, the
collection treats both established topics (the phoenix, Osiris) and relatively new ones (Demotic narratives).

Flore Kimmel-Clauzet sets out to refine the customary structural analysis of the Egyptian logos, which divides it into two distinct parts (2.1-98 and 2.99-182 as signaled by Herodotus’ own statements), by identifying more subtle thematic links and compositional techniques in the book’s
underlying structure. She combines specific and detailed analysis (connections between passages and sections) with general and overarching claims (principles unifying the whole book), and some arguments are more persuasive than others. Particularly suggestive are Kimmel-Clauzet’s observations
that the chronologically problematic pyramid builders divide two phases in the pre-Saite kinglist and that the book is structured to reflect the evolving perspective of a newcomer to Egypt.

Karim Mansour catalogues examples of poetic and stylistically marked usages in the Egyptian logos. Such stylistic traits, he suggests, feature more frequently in Herodotus’ ethnographic passages than in the rest of the Histories and comprise an ethnographic style that is complementary
to the use of parataxis. The article is primarily descriptive, and I would have liked to see more statistical comparison (e.g. as appears for tmesis at p. 52) and directly stated proof to support the claim that Book 2 is the best example of Herodotus’ “poetic” ethnographic style. Similarly,
Mansour’s suggestion that some poetic constructions are used first in ethnographic passages and then redeployed in other types of Herodotean discourse could be more fully explored.

Joachim F. Quack presents an informative survey of new Demotic material (mostly narrative, both published and unpublished) with important connections to several episodes from the Egyptian logos (including the Ἀσμάχ deserters, the festival at Boubastis, Sesostris, and Pheros). He also treats a
nexus of older texts that relate to Rhampsinitos’ descent to the underworld (2.122), disproving a close link between this tale and the Demotic First Setna Story but identifying a general Egyptian background for the pharaoh’s journey in the story of Merire and the pharaoh Sisobek (P. Vandier).
This material will revitalize the historically vexed discussion of Herodotus’ use of Egyptian sources, and Quack has lucidly set out the evidence that changes the central question from whether Herodotus used “authentic” Egyptian material to how he utilized it. As the Demotic texts are fully
published and more hopefully will come to light, exciting new work on the Egyptian logos will be possible.

Lilian Postel argues that Herodotus used Egyptian Royal Annals (e.g. the Palermo Stone or Amenemhat II’s Annals from Memphis) as a key source for the history of Pre-Saite Egypt. A helpful overview of the Royal Annals is provided, including some newer material (one piece published by Postel
herself), but the range of evidence covered in the analysis of Herodotus’ text is limited. None of the parallels sketched between the Egyptian Logos and the Royal Annals are satisfactorily established, although the suggestion that records of inundation height from different reigns might have
been easily compared using annalistic inscriptions is intriguing (regarding 2.13). Material from the Royal Annals may lie behind Herodotus’ account in some way, but this genre is yet to appear as an important source.

Françoise Labrique traces connections between the Egyptian benu bird and the Histories’ phoenix (2.73), suggesting that Herodotus’ (source-critically) problematic comparison of the phoenix to an eagle is based on status not appearance. The conclusion that Herodotus’ description
of the phoenix conveys the meaning of the benu is overly optimistic; a solid explanation for the bird’s color seems particularly elusive. This contribution covers a variety of Egyptian sources, relying heavily on The Book of the Dead, and some explanation of technicalities (e.g.
how illustrations of the Book of the Dead work) would have been useful to orient a reader coming from Classics.

Emmanuel Jambon provides an accessible overview of Egyptian evidence for the two types of divination mentioned in Histories 2.82: hemerology and the collection and interpretation of portents and signs. The piece nicely brings out the different concepts of time inherent in these types
of divination. While hemerology was based on the unchanging cycle of the calendar (e.g. a Calendar of Good and Bad Days from the Ramessid Period), signs were tied to the linear time of real life (e.g. a Demotic treatise on divination by shrew behavior). Jambon confirms that Herodotus
recorded real Egyptian practices, suggesting that divination might have been part of everyday temple business, even if solid evidence for soothsayers themselves is hard to come by.

Incorporating recent work in Egyptology, Laurent Coulon compares Herodotus’ Osiris with Egyptian evidence from four angles (Osiris’ and Isis’ status, religious silence, equation of Osiris and Dionysus, and phallophoria rites). Most convincingly, four problematic passages where the historian
refuses to name Osiris in connection with mourning and burial are explained as the observation of an Egyptian taboo prohibiting explicit mention of the murder and dismemberment of Osiris by Seth. The phallophoria ritual (2.48) serves as a case study for Coulon’s reminder that a current lack of
Egyptian comparanda does not necessarily condemn the Greek account, since much evidence has been lost or lies waiting to be discovered. Although not all attempts to match Herodotus with Egyptian sources will be successful, Coulon is absolutely correct to stress that advances in Egyptology
necessitate periodical reconsideration of the Histories’ Egyptian background.

As can be seen, there is a clear divide between the collection’s two sections which falls along disciplinary lines. Although some pieces draw on both Classics and Egyptology (in particular Coulon’s), one or two contributions that truly fused the two approaches might have helped draw the sides
together and provide further insights into this fascinating section of the Histories.² In particular, one might examine more closely what (new) Egyptian sources really mean for literary analysis of the Egyptian logos. Did Herodotus write up material from Egyptian sources in
different ways, or did he seamlessly incorporate everything into the main body of his work with the same approach? What happens when the Egyptian material has its own distinctive style and narrative conventions (cf. Postel’s comparison of structure)? Can answers to these questions help us better
understand other books of the Histories? This new collection provides a solid basis for such further work to be done.

The volume is quite polished, and its comprehensive set of indices is impressively detailed. I noticed a few typos including: some Greek is not fully translated (p. 30 n. 34); Minos for lake Moeris twice (p. 50 n. 16); fig. 6 for 7 (p. 123, n. 28). ​

---

Notes:

1.   Lloyd, A. B. (1975) Herodotus Book II. Introduction (Leiden: Brill); Lloyd, A. B. (1976) Herodotus Book II. Commentary 1-98 (Leiden: Brill); Lloyd, A. B. (1988) Herodotus Book II. Commentary 99-182 (Leiden; New York; København; Köln: Brill); a new version in
Asheri, D., Lloyd, A. and A. Corcella (2007) A Commentary on Herodotus Books 1-IV, ed. O. Murray and A. Moreno (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

2.   For a recent historical approach to such fusion, see the first chapter of I. Moyer (2011) Egypt and the Limits of Hellenism (Cambridge). ​

(read complete article)

Paul-Hubert Poirier, Agathe Roman, Thomas Schmidt, Eric Crégheur, José H. Declerck (ed.), Contra Manichaeos Libri IV: Graece et Syriace; cum excerptis e Sacris Parallelis Iohanni Damasceno attributis Titus Bostrensis. Corpus Christianorum Series Graeca (CCSG), 82. Turnhout: Brepols
Publishers, 2013. Pp. clv, 427. ISBN 9782503544144. €350.00.

Reviewed by Anna Van den Kerchove, Institut protestant de théologie, Paris (Petosiris33@gmail.com)

Version at BMCR home site

La
prestigieuse collection « Corpus Christianorum. Series Graeca » propose un nouveau volume lequel, à n’en pas douter, fera date. Consacré au Contre les manichéens de Titus de Bostra, il regroupe l’édition critique du texte syriaque, du texte grec et des extraits grecs conservés dans les
Sacra parallelis attribués à Jean Damascène. Pour ce travail qui débuta au milieu des années 1980, Paul-Hubert Poirier, qui en est à l’origine, a réunit autour de lui une équipe qui s’est étoffée au cours du temps: Éric Crégheur qui l’assista pour l’établissement du texte syriaque; Agathe
Roman, avec l’aide de Thomas S. Schmidt, pour celui du texte grec et José Declerck pour les Sacra parallelis.

Une introduction (p. XI-CVII), due essentiellement à Paul-Hubert Poirier, fait le point sur l’auteur, ses ouvrages et sur le Contra manichaeos. On a très peu d’éléments sur Titus de Bostra, dont la réputation semble être en grande partie due à son écrit contre les manichéens qui date
vraisemblablement de 363. C’est d’ailleurs sa seule œuvre qui nous soit parvenue dans son intégralité, dans une traduction syriaque. Une version grecque est également connue, ne donnant cependant que les trois quarts du texte. L’ouvrage semble avoir cependant connu une diffusion assez limitée;
Paul-Hubert Poirier avance deux raisons principales: le style et la langue de l’auteur, qualifiés de « assez rébarbatifs » (p. xx); et « le fait que les œuvres polémiques risquent toujours de sombrer dans l’oubli, une fois disparue l’hérésie ou l’erreur qu’elles prétendaient réfuter » (p. xx).

Après un rappel des maigres informations sur l’auteur, les éditeurs reviennent sur la tradition manuscrite, qui est essentiellement directe. La tradition indirecte est en effet minime, avec, du côté grec, les Sacra parallelis (auxquels une annexe est entièrement consacrée) et le
florilège d’Étienne Gobar, et, du côté syriaque, quelques florilèges. La tradition manuscrite directe consiste en 7 manuscrits grecs et un syriaque. Se fondant sur les recherches antérieures et sur l’étude comparative des manuscrits, Paul-Hubert Poirier propose un stemma convaincant (p. LI): les
cinq manuscrits siglés BLAHD, de l’époque moderne (fin XVI^e – XVII^e siècle), remontent au manuscrit conservé à Gênes (sigle G) qui date du XI^e siècle et qui donne le texte jusqu’à III, 7, 27. Le septième manuscrit, découvert plus récemment (en 1924), l’Athonensis
Vatopedinus 236 (sigle V), est aussi ancien que G, mais aucune copie plus récente de ce manuscrit n’est connue; il est plus long que G, donnant le texte jusqu’à III, 30, 5. La section sur la tradition manuscrite grecque se clôt par une analyse non exhaustive (comme le reconnaissent les auteurs,
p. LIII) mais relativement longue (p. LII-LXXIII) du style de l’auteur, justifiant le qualificatif « rébarbatif » qui lui est donné.

La section suivante est consacrée au manuscrit syriaque qui transmet la traduction syriaque de l’œuvre, qui est un unicum et est capital pour la connaissance du Contra manichaeos. Il donne en effet le texte dans sa totalité; surtout, il est plus ancien que tous les manuscrits
grecs (il s’agit par ailleurs du plus ancien manuscrit syriaque conservé), postérieur d’un demi-siècle seulement à la composition du texte en grec; la traduction syriaque, dont le manuscrit donne une copie (avec des fautes), aurait donc été effectuée peu de temps après la composition. Au-delà des
fautes commises par le scribe, l’étude de la traduction montre combien le traducteur a eu le souci de coller au sens et à la lettre du texte grec. La dernière section de la partie introductive sur la tradition directe concerne les traductions latines, qui ont été réalisées dans le cadre de la
réaction catholique à la réforme protestante. Si on relie cela au fait que cinq des manuscrits grecs datent de la même époque ou sont légèrement postérieurs, il serait intéressant d’étudier plus en détail l’histoire de la transmission de cet ouvrage de polémique en lien avec la situation
religieuse de l’époque moderne, entre protestants et catholiques, et d’étudier également comment Titus de Bostra a été directement ou indirectement utilisé dans les controverses religieuses de l’époque. Cela permettrait de compléter les pages que Nils Arne Pedersen a consacrées à cette
thématique dans son Demonstrative Proof in Defence of God. A Study of Titus of Bostras’Contra Manichaeos. The Work’s Sources, Aims and Relation to its Contemporary Theology, Leyde, Brill, p. 69-75.

Paul-Hubert Poirier revient ensuite sur les éditions antérieures et, de manière intéressante pour l’histoire de la recherche, sur les projets éditoriaux qui n’ont pas abouti. Dans un dernier temps, un plan détaillé de l’œuvre est donné (p. LXXXIX-XCVIII), montrant son originalité par rapport
à d’autres œuvres polémiques: elle est organisée en diptyque, les deux premiers livres étant consacrés à la réfutation des thèses manichéennes, les deux suivants abordant l’interprétation manichéenne des Écritures.

L’introduction est suivie d’une annexe (p. CIX-CXXXVII) et d’une bibliographie (p. CXXXIX-CLV). L’annexe, de la plume de José Declerck, est consacrée aux Sacra parallelis. Une introduction revient sur la tradition manuscrite et sur la recherche antérieure des extraits manichéens. José
Declerck a repéré deux extraits supplémentaires, portant leur nombre à 9, dont deux avec deux versions chacun. Il donne ensuite l’édition des extraits manichéens. La partie suivante est consacrée à l’édition du grec, essentiellement fondée sur V (avec l’aide de G et B), et à celle de la version
syriaque, qui « est essentiellement une reproduction, la plus fidèle possible de l’unique témoin manuscrit de l’ouvrage » (p. CIII). Les deux sont données en vue synoptique (le grec à droite, le syriaque à gauche), avec, dans les deux cas, un apparat critique, un apparat des citations, et, pour
le texte syriaque, un apparat des doublets de la traduction. Nous n’avons pas les compétences pour juger de l’édition du syriaque, mais pour la partie grecque, l’édition est de très bonne qualité. Les citations manichéennes faites par Titus de Bostra sont signalées, dans le texte grec, par une
modification de la typographie (dilatation des lettres); dans le texte syriaque, aucune modification typographique ne les signale, mais elles sont aisément repérables grâce à la particule ܠܡ; de plus, un index des occurrences de cette particule permet de les retrouver facilement. Il est à noter
que la version syriaque signale plus de citations manichéennes que le grec.

Outre l’index de la particule syriaque qui introduit les citations manichéennes, il y a un index des noms et un index des citations bibliques.

Un volume consacré à la traduction devrait paraître avant la fin de l’année 2014 dans la collection « Corpus Christianorum in Translation » et complètera très utilement cet ouvrage éditorial. L’ensemble sera fort utile pour tous ceux qui s’intéressent à l’histoire des religions et plus
particulièrement à l’étude de l’Église manichéenne, mais également à tous ceux qui étudient l’histoire des controverses, aussi bien pour l’époque antique que pour la période moderne.

(read complete article)

Response: Allan on Hunink on Allan. Response to 2014.08.25

Response by William Allan, University College, Oxford (william.allan@univ.ox.ac.uk)

Version at BMCR home site

I am grateful to
Vincent Hunink for his kind words on my Classical Literature: A Very Short Introduction. However, it is clear from the first couple of paragraphs of his discussion that he is reviewing the book as though it were a textbook intended for classroom use. I would like to clarify that this is
not the purpose of the Very Short Introduction series, which is aimed at the general reader. The review is therefore based on a misunderstanding.

One might recommend the book in preparation for a Classics degree, but its target audience is people who may have only vaguely heard of Homer or Virgil and want to dip their toe further. The book makes no claim to be, or to replace, a serious textbook (such as Rutherford’s, which he compares
it to).

One final point: the reviewer names several authors that are not covered. One could name 500 more: again, it is a VSI with a strict limit of 125 pages of text. As regards my selection, there are several separate VSIs on ancient philosophy and Christianity, so my remit was explicitly not to
duplicate those.

(read complete article)

Antony Augoustakis (ed.), Flavian Poetry and its Greek Past. Mnemosyne supplements. Monographs on Greek and Roman language and literature, 366. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2014. Pp. xxi, 453. ISBN 9789004266483. $209.00.

Reviewed by Peter Davis, University of Adelaide
(Peter.Davis@adelaide.edu.au)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

This collection of papers arises from a conference entitled ‘Flavian Literature and its Greek Past’ held at Delphi in July 2012. Edited by Antony Augoustakis, a scholar well known for important work on Flavian epic, the volume contains chapters by an exemplary blend of senior and younger
scholars from a variety of European countries as well as the USA and Australia. All papers are in English. Particularly striking (and entirely appropriate) is the preponderance of essays on epic poetry (fifteen out of nineteen), with Valerius Flaccus being the clear winner among the epicists and
over all (seven chapters).

Augoustakis’ Introduction meets its generic requirements. First, it outlines the rationale for the volume’s existence (p. 2): ‘Undoubtedly, the Flavian authors engage in a fruitful dialogue with the literature produced in Greece from the Homeric epics through the archaic period to the
classical age and the Hellenistic period’. The claim is clearly sound and a collection devoted to the topic is highly desirable. Second, it introduces the chapters that constitute the volume.

Arianna Sacerdoti’s first chapter presents a typological study of sleep and sleeplessness, beginning with an examination of the intertextual relationships between relevant passages in all four Flavian epics and the Iliad and Odyssey and concluding with a discussion of literary
sleeplessness in Statius’ Siluae.

Part II, devoted to Valerius Flaccus, opens with Darcy Krasne’s essay on the connections between Valerius and his Hellenistic predecessors Aratus and Apollonius of Rhodes. Central to Krasne’s argument is the claim that ‘the earlier poetic versions of the Argo become the literal material, not
just the literary material, used to build that poetic craft’ (p. 34). While at first sight this claim seems puzzling, it is warranted by Krasne’s focus on what happens to the Argo’s timbers in all three authors. Of particular interest is Krasne’s argument that ‘the potential for civil war is
inherent in her [Argo’s] construction’ (p. 47).

Cristiano Castelletti examines the Valerian Argonautica’s relationship with Aratus. The focus of the argument is Valerius’ use of acrostics. That Virgil employed an acrostic when alluding to Aratus is well established (see Richard Thomas’s discussion in his commentary on
Georgics 1.427-37). We should therefore not be surprised to find Valerius’ using an acrostic when alluding to Phaenomena and elsewhere. Castelletti’s discussion is highly ingenious and (I think) persuasive.

Simone Finkmann analyses ‘the key similarities and differences in the use of collective and representative speeches and collective “conversational silence”’ (p. 73) in Apollonius of Rhodes and Valerius. Finkmann reaches a number of interesting conclusions. Her analysis underlines important
differences in the ways the two crews perceive their leaders: for the Hellenistic Argonauts Heracles is the irreplaceable hero, for the Romans it is Tiphys. Further, where Valerius has equivalents for the speeches of individuals in Apollonius, he has no counterpart for any collective speech.

Although Marco van der Schuur focuses on a brief episode, the deaths and common funeral of Idmon and Tiphys at 5.1-62, he confronts a broader question in Valerian scholarship: does Valerius confidently restructure the inherited tradition or does he undermine the reader’s attempt to make sense
of allusions to poetic predecessors? Van der Schuur reads Valerius as employing the first technique with Apollonius and the second with Virgil. I do have a minor quibble: the Flavian Argonautica is not a nostos epic (e.g. p. 98), because it is not concerned with returning home
(after all, that is what nostos means ). Carey Seal proposes that ‘Valerius offers a unique reconciliation of the first-ship and Apollonian views of the Argo’s place in human history and that he uses the question of civil war as his platform for doing so’ (p. 116). The great strength of
this paper is its demonstration of the pervasiveness of the theme of civil war in the Valerius’ poem.

Daniela Galli’s chapter aims to show that ‘in addition to Apollonius, Valerius Flaccus knows Dionysius Scytobrachion’s version of the Argonautica and that he exploits both accounts to construct his own narrative’ (p. 139). To this end she compares a number of episodes in Books 1 and 2
with the account given in Diodorus Siculus, whose version of events made use of Dionysius.

The final Valerius chapter, by Irene Mitousi, looks at the Argonautica as an ideological epic. Mitousi’s central claim is that ‘the innovative voyage of the Argo stands for the Flavian dynastic enterprise’ and speaks of ‘the interchangeability between the voyage of the Argo and
Vespasian’s reign’ (p. 155). Mitousi notes Valerius’ apparent obsession with tyrants and reads this as ‘part of Vespasian’s anti-Neronian propaganda’ (p.160). She reads the monster theme as ‘sanctioning not only the Argonautic expedition but the Flavian enterprise too, presenting both as
restorers of order and agents of a new era’ (p. 163). While I am in favour of political readings, I have problems with this one. First, Mitousi’s reading depends on a Vespasianic date. While this may be basically right, the case needs to be made. After all, Valerius refers twice to the eruption
of Vesuvius, a famously post-Vespasianic event. Second, the fact that Jason’s voyage brings Medea to Greece certainly makes him an ‘agent of a new era’, but it hardly makes him a ‘restorer of order’.

The four essays in the Statian section examine all of Statius’ oeuvre. Jörn Soerink considers the relationship between Thebaid and Euripides’ Hypsipyle. Soerink argues that Statius did know the Euripidean play and that he incorporated its plot into his narrative (p. 177). Having
established that there are indeed intertextual connections, Soerink turns to the differences, the most of important of which is the greater prominence that Statius gives to Lycurgus over his wife Eurydice.

Jean-Michel Hulls’s essay focuses on Thebaid and Siluae. Beginning with the Siluae, Hulls emphasises Statius’ ‘Romanizing’ of his Greek poetic inheritance (p. 199). In considering the Thebaid, Hulls examines the epic’s connections with the cyclic Thebais and
Greek tragedy, particularly Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus and Euripides’ Phoenissae and Supplices, arguing that Statius takes over Athens in order to ‘express a very Roman and Flavian set of political themes’ (p. 213).

Federica Bessone’s essay deals with all three Statian works, analysing programmatic passages from the two epics in relation to Siluae. Bessone argues that Statius’ ‘different poetic forms appear to be connected by a common trait: the claim to the social status of the poet as
such and of the prestige due to him, whatever, performance he offers to the audience’ (p. 215). In Bessone’s view Statius claims a Greek as well as a Roman and Neapolitan identity. She pays particular attention to the proem to the Achilleid where Statius speaks of himself as a Theban
poet and to Statius’ self- representation as Amphion in all three works.

In the final paper on Statius, Pavlos Sfyroeras examines Statius’ exploitation of a famous Homeric simile (Iliad 4.141-7) in the Achilleid. Sfyroeras highlights Statius’ exploitation of the gender ambiguities inherent in Homer’s comparison of Menelaus’ wound (blood on flesh) to
a woman staining a cheek piece for horses (scarlet on ivory).

Part IV presents four essays on Silius. Evangelos Karakasis examines the opposition between Fabius and Hannibal in Punica 7, arguing that Fabius is modeled on Domitian and that Hannibal is presented as an enemy of Domitian (p. 266). Karakasis combines tortuous writing with simplistic
argument. Consider this sentence: ‘The Homeric intertext is, therefore, often interweaved [sic] and diffracted through the prism of a parallel reading of Virgilian, Lucanean, and Statian passages, chiefly “window references”¹ to the Homeric intertexts of the Silian passages in question
(e.g. Silian night raid = Statian Thiodamas’ attack and Hopleus and Dymas incident = Virgilian Nisus-Euryalus attack = Homeric Doloneia / Silian Hannibal = Lucan’s Caesar = Virgilian Turnus = Homeric Achilles)’ (p. 264). While I find the sentence difficult to follow, I have to reject those equal
signs. Virgilian Turnus, for example, does not equal Homer’s Achilles.

Joy Littlewood examines Silius’ use of the feast in Punica 11 as a vehicle for the exploration of such moral themes as ‘the evils of the tyrannical use of power and the dangers of luxuria’ (p. 285). She pays particular attention to the double structure of Hannibal’s feast and to
his exploitation of the two sense of fides, both loyalty and lyre.

Michiel van der Keur takes on Silius’ encomium of Homer in Punica 13, arguing, first, that Silius presents Scipio as an epic hero like Achilles, but in the style of Alexander, and, second, that he suggests his own status as a Roman successor to Homer: he is the Romanus Homerus
(pp. 292-3). The argument is well made. I note, however, that van der Keur translates hic at 13.782 as ‘Homer’. While this is correct in the context, the translation prompts a question: why does Silius not name Homer in Book 13 when he is willing to name Ennius in Book 12?

Marco Fucecchi views the Punica as a meditation on kingship in the Greek tradition. He too emphasises the importance of the Homeric poems and considers Homer’s role in the nekyia in Punica 13. But Fucecchi also stresses the role of Cicero’s thought particularly when it
comes to Silius’ representation of ‘Scipio at the Crossroads’, concluding that ‘Scipio Africanus is chosen by Silius as the ancient precursor of the ciuilis kingship’ (p. 323).

The volume closes with three papers on Martial. Margot Neger is concerned to establish the importance of the Greek epigrammatic tradition for Martial’s literary program, despite the fact that he evokes his Latin predecessors repeatedly but seems to ignore the Greeks (p. 330). Neger argues
that it is through allusion to writers like Callimachus, Lucillius and Parmenion that Martial engages with his Greek predecessors on metaliterary matters.

Robert Cowan takes up a complex issue that others have avoided, the reception of Alexandrian literature in Flavian poetry. Cowan argues that ‘Flavian poets were influenced by Hellenistic poets, by the Roman poets who had received them, and by the very mode of that reception’ (p. 346). That
complexity he views as an opportunity and not just a problem. Cowan focuses primarily on 10.4, in which Martial advises against so-called hackneyed subjects (actually the subjects of Flavian epic and Senecan tragedy) and urges the study of Callimachus’ Aetia, and 1.92, in which he alludes
to Catullus’ Furius and Aurelius cycle and the Aetia.

The collection closes with Ana Maria Lóio’s discussion of Martial’s treatment of the talking book and its connection with Hellenistic traditions. Lóio focuses primarily on 14.83 and 10.1. Reading 14.183 as a couplet spoken not by the Martial but by the pseudo-Homeric epic, the Battle of
Frogs and Mice, results in a poem in which Homer, as a writer of nugae, becomes Martial’s predecessor. For Martial, like Callimachus, who had also professed admiration of pseudo-Homeric poetry, brief works are the ones that have value. Lóio compares 10.1 with the preface to Ovid’s
Amores. While the poems are linked as introducing second versions, they differ in their attitude to brevity: while Ovid has shortened his collection, Martial declines to do so. After all, bad readers can skip poems.

This volume serves two important purposes. First, it demonstrates the importance of Flavian engagement with Greek literature and thought even where we might least expect it, in writers like Silius and Martial. Second, it testifies to the vitality of the study of Flavian literature in
contemporary Latin studies. These major poets are finally receiving the scrutiny and appreciation that they deserve.²

---

Notes:

1.   For discussion of the ‘window allusion’ readers should consult Cowan’s essay in this volume (esp. 347-9).

2.   One final observation: some contributors quote Loeb translations. In my view this is an acceptable practice in some circumstances. The Loeb translators, however, should be acknowledged.

(read complete article)

Silvia Ferrara, Cypro-Minoan Inscriptions. Volume II: The Corpus. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Pp. xii, 305; 28 p. of plates. ISBN 9780199693825. $185.00.

Reviewed by Vassilis Petrakis, Research Associate at the National Hellenic Research Foundation
(vpetrakisrm@yahoo.gr)

Version at BMCR home site

Preview

The volume under review is the second of a two-volume work on the Cypro-Minoan (hereafter CM) inscriptions by Silvia Ferrara, initially based on her 2005 doctoral dissertation. ¹ Subtitled The Corpus, this book has been conceived as “a visual counterpart” (p.vi) to the
discussion presented in the previous volume ² (hereafter Analysis), but also intended as an “autonomous and self-standing” (p.5) reference work. Defined as an “archaeological corpus” (p.v) of the extant CM material, the format, content and emphasis of this publication represent
an intriguing departure from most epigraphic corpora, including the remarkable ‘holistic edition’ of CM inscriptions by Jean-Pierre Olivier (hereafter HoChyMin).³

Following the customary Preface, Acknowledgements and lists of Abbreviations, Illustrations, color Plates and Tables (pp.v-xii), the volume is neatly divided into three main sections, followed by two Appendices, Bibliography, a necessary Addendum and color plates of select material.

The first section (“Introduction: An Archaeological Corpus”, pp.1-12) is necessary reading for anyone wishing to use this book effectively. It begins with a very short introduction to the material (pp.1-2), accompanied by a useful chronological table of the late Middle and Late Bronze
Age Cypriot phases, which unfortunately does not include the Early Iron Age phases, where certain inscriptions (notably the Cypro-Geometric Palaepaphos Skales bronze obeloi, pp.86-88) are dated (p.1). Its primary intention is to outline the reasoning behind the conception of the
present publication (pp.3-5): Ferrara acknowledges the influence of Nicolle Hirschfeld’s and Joanna Smith’s vision of a CM corpus that would treat inscriptions as archaeological artifacts.⁴ Such an approach, firmly rooted in Daniel’s fundamental work,⁵ is now well
accommodated within the recent interest shown in the material aspects of writing,⁶ as also explored in Analysis. Her account naturally stresses the original contributions of the project, but there is also specific reference to its relation with HoChyMin and
Analysis. The volume under review works in close synergy with both. The structure of its entries and the relevant sub-fields are described in detail (pp.5-10). Olivier’s catalogue numbering and system of nomenclature (site prefix followed by typological abbreviation and inventory number,
the latter continuous within each typological category at the same site, augmented by Ferrara with the abbreviation “Pfus” for P[ierre]fus[aïole] “stone spindle whorl”) are both maintained (p.7). As in HoChyMin, catalogue numbers are throughout prefixed by double sharps (##): this is also
maintained in this review for ease of reference. The account is highly comprehensive with minor exceptions: the statement that “ENKO Abou 080 designates the 80 specimens of clay boules found at Enkomi” (p.6) is misleading, since ENKO Abou 080 refers to only one of them (##084 on p.46);
also, those readers unfamiliar with the inventory systems of all collections are not informed which “excavation inventory numbers” were missing and have been replaced by “museum [inventory] numbers” or, in the case of double numbering in the Louvre material, which number is which (p.6).

Twenty-seven inscriptions (##218-244, further indicated by the prefix ADD) were not included in HoChyMin for various reasons (pp.10-11). These entries (along with ##211) are accompanied by normalized transcriptions, since this information cannot be retrieved from HoChyMin. This
section closes with a comment on the Addendum (ADD ##244, a clay boule from Tiryns, see p.305) and the two Appendices (see infra), as well as two figures. Figure 1.1 (p.12) is a 1:2500000 scale distribution map of inscriptions ##001-243 (Tiryns is not included). Figure 1.2 (p.12),
showing the find-spots of CM inscriptions from Enkomi, is very illuminating. Although similar plans for other sites would be welcome, references to the relevant figures in Analysis are consistently given in the “Find-spot” field of each entry, where possible, even if this reduces the
autonomy of the volume.

The second section (“The Inscriptions”, pp.13-126) includes the entries of the 243 artifacts in catalogue number order. Only sequences of at least two signs are included, with two exceptions: ADD ##222-223, two Enkomi loom-weights bearing single signs which Ferrara considers as possible
logograms (pp.4, 115-116). The so-called CM ‘pot-marks’ are excluded (pp.3-4), although the similarity of several of them with proper CM graphemes should be noted.⁷

Undoubtedly, the highlight of each entry is the wealth of information provided about “Context” and the “Typological and Epigraphic Remarks”. These data illustrate most clearly the purpose of this corpus to underscore the physical aspects of the inscription itself, the artifact that carries the
inscription and, where appropriate, associated finds (either inscribed or not). The quality and value of this information can be fully appreciated, however, when this volume is used alongside Analysis. Unfortunately, entries for ##001-210 and ##212-217 do not normally include normalized
transcriptions, making a reference to HoChyMin necessary.

The “Catalogue” (pp.127-281) is a seminal part of the book, since it includes all the photographs (by the author herself except where otherwise noted in the respective entry) accompanied by drawings (by Dimitris Tsouris, except for the Maroni Vournes material drawn by Alison South,
pp.278-280). Scales are consistently stated and 1:1 wherever possible. Coverage is not complete (regrettably this includes some of the additional material not included in HoChyMin): certain artifacts lack photos or drawings, while a few are not illustrated at all. These omissions are
understandable, as most of the non-illustrated objects were not found for autopsy during the preparation of the Corpus (in certain cases an already published drawing could have been reproduced).⁸

Photos are overall of very good quality. It is important that the Ugarit and Maroni material is given photographic coverage, since this material was only represented with drawings in HoChyMin. The fifty color plates that close the volume are the color versions of b/w photos in this
section. Drawings are ‘maximalistic’, sometimes detracting attention from the inscription itself. This is not a disadvantage, because it gives a perspective quite complementary to the HoChyMin drawings that focused on the inscriptions only. The use of stippling is effective (if not
excessive occasionally) and conveys well the condition of the inscribed surfaces and the tri-dimensionality of each artifact. Although the stated objective of the drawings is to illustrate the object in its entirety (p.5), a few drawings focus, as in HoChyMin, on the inscription
only.⁹ It is important to note that most drawings here do not follow the usual conventions of archaeological artifact illustrations (except from South’s drawings for ADD ##239-241): for instance, pottery is not shown in profile and there are generally no sections. The decision to
accompany the drawings of boules with the exploded view of the full inscription (pp.128-142) was excellent, but this could have been done for certain distorted areas of other convex surfaces, including the edges of tablets (e.g. ##208 top lines of side A, ##212, ##214). A drawing
convention indicating explicitly which marks are parts of the ductus and which are cracks or wear-marks would have been desirable.

The reasoning behind the separation of the entries from their accompanying illustrations is not explained. Presenting both text and image(s) on the same page might have been more user-friendly, but this is only done for the Addendum (p.305). However, page references to the illustrations are
consistently given at the end of each entry.

Appendix 1 (“List of Cypro-Minoan objects and their possible functions”, pp.283-293) summarily presents, in tabular fashion, a list of the 243 inventoried artifacts (again, the new Tiryns boule is not included). This is very handy. For more information on the columns “Context-Possible
function” and “Possible subject matter”, the reader should be referred to the relevant fields in the catalogue entries (pp.13-126), as well as to the discussions in Analysis.

Appendix 2 (“List of sign variants”, p.295) is a table of the chief sign forms, classified as variants of 83 different graphemes of a single writing system (‘archaic’ or CM0 variants, as represented on ##001, are not included). The chart illustrates well Ferrara’s main thesis, critical of
Émilia Masson’s distinction of four classes of CM writing, following (and building upon) Tom Palaima’s own critique of this classification.¹⁰ The reader should carefully compare her ‘integrated’ sign-table with Olivier’s revised classification (HoChyMin, p.413).

The bibliography (pp.297-304) includes references used throughout the volume (certain overlap with those in Analysis pp.296-320 is perfectly understandable). One discrepancy: HoChyMin (abbreviated so on p.x) is also included here and is consistently referred to as “Olivier
(2007)” in the catalogue entries.

The Addendum (ADD ##244) (p.305, cf. also p.11) is fully justified. The clay boule inscribed with three CM signs from a LH IIIC Developed context from the Lower Citadel of Tiryns (2^nd quarter of the 12^th century BC, approximately contemporary with Level IIIA at
Enkomi associated with most clay boules found there) has been a sensational find, exemplarily published by Melissa Vetters (accompanying illustrations are reproduced from Vetters’ publication).¹¹

The editing is excellent, with scarce typos, few of them deserving mention (e.g. p.290, footnote 2 referring to the Opheltas obelos is misplaced).

Minor criticisms notwithstanding, the immense labor that has gone into the preparation and completion of this volume, and its ensuing value, cannot be obscured. This admirable publication represents a further major advance in Cypro-Minoan studies. It supports the archaeological perspective
offered in Analysis by providing the full data-base behind it. Its welcome ‒arguably necessary‒ emphasis on the materiality of CM writing has had an inevitable consequence, however: as a corpus of extant CM inscriptions, this volume can be most effectively used alongside the more
free-standing Analysis and the inscription-focused HoChyMin. Although the autonomy of Ferrara’s new CM corpus is far from complete, no student of Cypriot writing can afford to ignore this publication, which should find the place it rightfully deserves on the shelf of any library
interested in the archaeology and epigraphy of the island.

---

Notes:

1.   S. Ferrara An Interdisciplinary Approach to the Cypro-Minoan Script. PhD Thesis, University of London 2005.

2.   S. Ferrara Cypro-Minoan Inscriptions. Volume I: Analysis Oxford 2012, reviewed by Matthew Scarborough at BMCR 2013.02.04.

3.   J.-P. Olivier. Édition Holistique des Textes Chypro-Minoens. Pisa-Roma 2007.

4.   J.S. Smith and N. Hirschfeld. “The Cypro-Minoan corpus project takes an archaeological approach.” Near Eastern Archaeology 62 (1999), pp.129-130. Also N. Hirschfeld, “Cypro-Minoan” in The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean (ca. 3000-1000 BC), edited by E.H.
Cline, Oxford 2010, pp.373-384 (at pp.374, 382-383).

5.   J.F. Daniel. “Prolegomena to the Cypro-Minoan script.” AJA 45(1941), pp.249-282, where the importance of considering grapheme morphology and variation in the context of the writing medium is stressed.

6.   Most recently, Writing as Material Practice: Substance, Surface and Medium, edited by K.E. Piquette and R.D. Whitehouse, London 2013 (especially pp.1-13).

7.   Daniel (supra n.5, p.253) was the first to exclude single signs, regardless of their morphological similarity to CM signs used in sequences (the latter probably phonographically). However, application of this criterion should be made with caution, since CM sign-sequences
also occur incised on pottery: cases displaying such contextual as well as morphological similarity might be considered as associated with true CM writing (cf. Hirschfeld, supra n.4, pp.376-377).

8.   Without photos: ##081, ##096, ##104, ##106-107, ##111, ##124, ##148, ##159-160, ##163-164, ##168, ##183, ##189-190, ##193, ##196-197, ##200, ADD ##219, ADD ##225, ADD ##229, ADD ##233 and ADD ##235; without drawings: ##157, ##207 side B, ##209, ##217 and ADD ##232); not illustrated
altogether: ##073 whose illustration is nonetheless quoted on p.42, the reported as missing ##151-152, ##173, ##186, ADD ##226, ADD ##228, ADD ##234 and ADD ##243, and the reportedly anepigraphic ADD ##230. The drawing of #157 (by A. South apud G. Cadogan, J. Driessen and S. Ferrara,
“Four Cypro-Minoan inscriptions from Maroni Vournes” SMEA 51(2009), pp.145-164, at pp.156, fig.9 and p.158, fig.11) is not reproduced, unlike drawings for ADD ##239-241 from the same publication.

9.   Examples are ##109 on p.158, ##112 on p.161 and ##188-189 on pp.234-235.

10.   T.G. Palaima. “Cypro-Minoan scripts: Problems of historical context” in Problems in Decipherment, edited by Y. Duhoux, T.G. Palaima and J. Bennet, Louvain 1989, pp.121-187. Ferrara discusses these problems fully in Analysis as well as “Writing in Cypro-Minoan: one
script, too many?” in P. Steele (ed.) Syllabic Writing in Cyprus and its Context, Cambridge 2013, pp.49-76.

11.   M. Vetters. “A clay ball with a Cypro-Minoan inscription from Tiryns.” Archäologischer Anzeiger 2011 (2), pp.1-49.

(read complete article)