CJ Online Review: Nicgorski, Cicero’s Practical Philosophy

posted with permission:

Cicero’s Practical Philosophy. Edited by Walter Nicgorski. Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2012. Pp. xiii + 313. Hardcover, $42.00. ISBN 978-0-268-03665-2.

Reviewed by Sean McConnell, University of East Anglia

This collection of papers is a useful starting point for those seeking to get an insight into current trends at the cutting-edge of Ciceronian studies. The collection does not form a full or comprehensive account of Cicero’s “practical philosophy”—his ethical and political thought—in all its dimensions. Rather it offers various snap-shots into certain key aspects. Further, the collection is not an introduction to core elements of Cicero’s practical philosophy. It aims at a more advanced readership: the papers all require a fairly solid grounding in the history of republican Rome, Cicero’s life and career, and Greek ethical and political theory; moreover, a good working knowledge of Latin is essential since not everything is translated. It must be said that in some ways events have overtaken this collection, which is the result of a 2006 University of Notre Dame symposium, as a number of major publications dealing with aspects of Cicero’s philosophical and political thought and practice have appeared since then. Nonetheless, all the papers are fresh and make valuable contributions to the state of debate.

In his paper “Cicero’s De Re Publica and the Virtues of the Statesman,” J. G. F. Powell helpfully brings to the fore Cicero’s ongoing preoccupation with the topic of the leader in the context of the republican mixed constitution. Powell stresses the importance of the four cardinal Platonic virtues—wisdom, justice, temperance, and fortitude—in Cicero’s crafting of the partially extant dialogue De Re Publica, and the paper offers a coherent account of the overall structure of the work.

Malcolm Schofield, in his paper “The Fourth Virtue,” offers a punchy discussion of Cicero’s treatment of the virtue of moderatio (temperance) that increases in particular our understanding of the De Officiis, Cicero’s great final philosophical work. Among other things, Schofield puts decorum in its proper place, stressing that for Cicero much of our practical ethical and political conduct is not merely a matter of “doing what is right” but also managing the impressions we make on others.

In his paper “Philosophical Life versus Political Life: An Impossible Choice for Cicero?,” Carlos Lévy provides a broad overview of a topic that exercised Cicero’s thinking for many years. The paper offers a taste of the scope of Cicero’s personal struggles with the issue, and it demonstrates well how the topic permeates a wide range of Cicero’s writings—letters, speeches, dialogues, treatises.

Catherine Tracy, in her paper “Cicero’s Constantia in Theory and Practice,” explores the tension between Cicero’s commitments to Academic skepticism, which advocates adapting one’s opinions and actions in accordance with the evidence or the circumstances, and the practical political virtue of constantia, firmness or resolve in the face of new pressures and developments. Tracy’s discussion is enlightening, and she illuminates helpfully the ways in which Cicero struggled in both his theoretical works and his speeches to craft an image of his constantia.

In her paper “Cicero and the Perverse: The Origins of Error in De Legibus 1 and Tusculan Disputations 3,” Margaret Graver looks at Cicero’s treatment of the theme of moral perversion—how to explain errors and wrongdoing. The general Stoic pedigree of Cicero’s thinking is stressed, but Graver shows how certain distinctly Ciceronian additions are made to the basic Stoic framework.

In “Radical and Mitigated Skepticism in Cicero’s Academica,” Harald Thorsrud explores the nature of Cicero’s skepticism. The paper provides a concise overview of the nature of Academic skepticism and its relationship with Stoicism, and it usefully shows how Cicero’s epistemological concerns link in closely with his ethical and political thought.

David Fott’s detailed and engaging paper, “The Politico-Philosophical Character of Cicero’s Verdict in De Natura Deorum,” examines Cicero’s theological thinking in dialogues such as De Natura Deorum and De Divinatione. Fott is particularly good at highlighting how Cicero saw such matters fitting into a wider ethical and political scheme. Among other things, there is useful discussion of Cicero’s distinction between religion and superstition, the nature of Cicero’s skepticism, and the acuity, care, and subtlety with which Cicero treated a range of socially and politically sensitive issues.

In his paper “Between Urbs and Orbis: Cicero’s Conception of the Political Community,” Xavier Márquez offers an engaging analysis of Cicero on the political community. He contrasts Cicero’s thinking with earlier Greek traditions of thought and stresses the synergies with modern thinking on the nation state. Key aspects of Cicero’s thinking are demarcated clearly, and plenty will be of wide interest to both classicists and contemporary political theorists.

In “Cicero on Property and the State,” J. Jackson Barlow tackles the issue of private property. It has long been acknowledged that Cicero has interesting and valuable things to say about property rights and the role that economic and ethical concerns over private property play in the development of political organizations such as the state. Barlow provides a discussion of Cicero’s thinking that shakes up existing views in the literature by stressing Cicero’s concern to mitigate an unhealthy fixation on property, in particular of the sort that led to ongoing civil strife in the Roman republic.

In addition, Walter Nicgorski’s 1978 paper, “Cicero and the Rebirth of Political Philosophy,” is reprinted as an Appendix; there is a Bibliography that can serve as a reasonable starting-point for further research; an Index that is clear and sufficiently detailed; and a list of cited passages of Cicero.

Taken as a whole the collection has a number of virtues. The papers are concise, well-written, and well-argued: the theses are clear and often form ambitious challenges to received views. The range of critical approaches on display—there are papers from classicists, Latinists, philosophers, political theorists—showcases well the fruitful ways that Cicero can be tackled and how inter-disciplinary scholarly endeavor can be mutually informative and rewarding. The collection achieves its aim of bringing Cicero himself to the forefront: all the papers focus on innovative and sophisticated aspects of Cicero’s politico-philosophical thought and practice. In particular, the contributors resist becoming too hung up on worries about Cicero’s Greek sources for various things, or the ways in which his own thinking in places can be characterized as, for example, essentially Stoic or Academic. This helps give the book coherence and focus, and at the end of the collection one has the strong impression that Cicero was a genuinely first-rate intellect and philosophical thinker who deserves close study and a wider appreciation amongst philosophers and political theorists alike, thus amply meeting the editor’s goal in organizing the collection. So, in sum, Cicero’s Practical Philosophy is a good collection of papers into selected aspects of Cicero’s politico-philosophical thought and practice that will be of value, in particular, to those seeking to engage with recent developments in Ciceronian studies.

Honours for Jeremy Rutter

An excerpt from the concluding half of a piece in the Valley News:

[ ...] In the archaeological universe, there are people who prefer to sit at a remove from a site, analyzing material in a lab: these are, said Rutter, the “cleans.” Then there are the other people, who like nothing better than getting out to a dig and sifting through the layers of civilizations: these are, said Rutter, the “dirtys.”

“I am definitely a dirty,” he said.

Or to put it another way: out in the field, said Roger Ulrich, a professor of Classics at Dartmouth and a colleague of Rutter’s, Rutter is “what we simply call a pot person.”

In the excavations Rutter has done in his life, Ulrich said, the thousands or hundreds of thousands of pottery fragments coming up in excavation are like “fingerprints or markers.” If you know what you’re looking at, and can piece them together, they can reveal much about these old civilizations: their rituals, their gods, their social and economic structure, their arts, aspirations and pretensions, what they ate and drank, how they lived, how they died and what they believed about an afterlife.

The trick, Ulrich said, is that to understand and interpret the minutiae of pot sherds requires years of training, a breadth and depth of knowledge and knowing when to go with your gut instinct.

“It takes a certain type of mind to look at this highly detailed stuff… and (Rutter) has become very accomplished about this. He’s one of a handful of people on the planet who can sort through this material and make sense of it,” Ulrich said.

Technically speaking, Rutter said, his specialty is the pottery of the Bronze age in Greece, from roughly 3000 to 1000 B.C.E, give or take a century or two. Asked to elaborate on the kinds of ceramics he’s studied and his doctoral dissertation, which has the weighty title, “The Late Helladic IIIB and IIIC Periods at Korakou and Gonia in the Corinthia,” Rutter, a wiry man who wears glasses and has close-cut hair, looked incredulous. “Oh my God! Do you want to fall asleep?”

Then he roused himself to an explanation of how he ended up in a profession that has been essentially devoted to what he calls “a treasure hunt.” The short version is that he hails from an old Pennsylvania family that dates back to the early days of the commonwealth. His father worked as a diplomat for the State Department so Rutter was raised in both the Washington, D.C. area and in Italy, Austria, England, Germany and Ghana.

As kids, he and his two brothers were marched around to museums and historical sites, and his interest in the ancient world derives partly from that early exposure but also from a child’s innate curiosity in exploring, digging, uprooting and unearthing, only kicked up a number of levels.

He graduated from Haverford College in suburban Philadelphia in 1967 with a degree in Classics, and then went on to get his doctorate in Classical Archaeology in at the University of Pennsylvania in 1974, with a stint from 1969 to 1971 as a radio operator in the Army north of Saigon during the Vietnam War. Then began the round-robin of trying to secure an academic appointment, a process that he said “was no easier then than it is now.”

Eventually he ended up at Dartmouth in 1976, and during his tenure there led numerous archaeological expeditions to Greece for students, and earning, Ulrich said, the admiration of both peers and students for his dedication to teaching at the undergraduate level rather than pursuing a career teaching graduate students.

On the one hand, Rutter frequently runs into people who tell him they wanted to grow up to be archaeologists, imagining the glory of the big find. On the other hand, Rutter has heard some of the skepticism directed at archaeology as a professional pursuit, including from his own father, who was, Rutter said, not pleased when his son told him he was going into the field because “he didn’t see any point in looking backward.”

“What’s wrong with you people in archaeology?” Rutter said, parroting some of the bafflement he’s heard. “Everything’s about may or might or maybe. Isn’t there an end point?” But archaeology isn’t just about scraping dirt and mud off objects, said Rutter. It is “about the full range of human life and human behavior back then. … It’s about storytelling.”

What he tried to convey to his students, he said, was that studying archaeology had benefits beyond learning about old civilizations. “It’s an issue of trying to teach them to observe, to see what’s in front of them and to have confidence in their observational skills and to train them to write about this in a logical, coherent fashion. All of that would apply to any evidence-based profession,” he said.

“One of the things I try to teach my students is that we have been encultured to think of progress as a linear phenomenon, but in detail if you look at it, it goes up and down, and every time, out of the ruins of the collapse something entirely new arises.”

Ancient Greece, he said, is a “wonderful lab” in which to look at how humans have measured the idea of progress.

He recalled the dig he went on when he was 22 and 23, to the island of Ischia in the Bay of Naples, which also was the site of the first Greek colony to the west of the Greek mainland. Called in Greek, Pithekoussai, and in Latin, Pithecusae, it was essentially a trading post. The Greeks had erected a town, temples, a cemetery, and the speculation is, Rutter said, that they had based a colony there to get at metals to the north on the Italian mainland.

“Greek archaeology was more interesting to me than Roman,” Rutter said. “If you’re going to do architecture, Roman is more interesting but if you’re going to do pottery, Roman is some of the most uninteresting the world has ever seen, while Greek pottery is fascinating. … There was a time when the finest Greek artists were working in ceramics.”

During his second summer there he went to the dig director and proposed opening up a trial trench off to one side of where the town site was. After getting the go-ahead Rutter and a colleague began to dig, delving down to where pottery fragments were denser. It was an area that seemed to have been the center of the town’s metallurgy industry. Over the course of the summer, they exposed some of the ancient buildings and the ceramics in and around them. Although Rutter says that “all evidence is good evidence,” most of the sherds they were bringing up were not terrifically interesting, with a notable exception.

One fragment, on close inspection, turned out to have a figure on it. Rutter eventually determined that it was a fragment of the rim of a krater, or large mixing bowl, in which people would have mixed wine and water for a symposium, the Greek term for a convivial gathering of people.

The fragment, which dates roughly to 700 B.C.E., showed a frontal bearded figure with wings and above it was a partial inscription, which turned out to be the artist’s signature. All that could be seen of his name were the letters, “inos,” but it was still a stirring moment. “That was very cool. There’s nothing like an inscription to make you feel close to the people,” Rutter said. It continues to be, as far as he knows, the oldest found fragment with the name of a Greek artist on it.

Which brings him to the serious ethical arguments that rage in archaeology, questions of cultural patrimony and whether to repatriate objects removed or looted from their original sites, the Parthenon (also called the Elgin) Marbles in the British Museum being a case in point. Greece wants the sculptures taken from the Parthenon in Athens back; the British have so far refused, citing concerns over whether the Greeks can adequately preserve them.

And then there is the cruel irony that even as archaeologists in every field make new discoveries all the time, there is a constant race between the archaeologist’s shovel and the developer’s backhoe, and the shovel doesn’t always win out. “A thousand years from now we will be crushed when there’s no original landscape to be found,” Rutter said. “What we’ll have lost will be huge. Thousands of archaeological sites are being lost every year.”

That aside, Rutter can’t complain about the direction his life has taken. “I never had to get out of the sandbox,” he marveled. “Boy, what a cool thing to do.” And while America is a culture perpetually criticized for its adolescent preoccupations, Rutter found a niche in a profession that places great value not only on conserving and understanding the past, but on the wisdom of the people doing it.

“There’s something to be said for an aging archaeologist,” he said. “It’s hard to bottle simple experience.”

… not sure if I’d like the ‘treasure hunter’ epithet, but it’s nice that his work is being recognized …

Heading to the AIA/APA Shindig?

I’ve always thought the AIA and APA should coordinate a bit better this time of year as each seems to be doing something really well that the other should also be doing. In the APA’s case, all the abstracts for the sessions are online and available … if you’re one twitter and/or have liked the APA on facebook, you’ve also been getting a regular session-by-session summary over the past while. Sadly, it appears you have to pay look at the abstracts at the AIA sessions. However, over at the AIA, they do have a thing which is almost the very item I’ve suggested for many years — an online scheduling thing so you can plan what you’re going to and when. It’s not confined to the AIA sessions and APA-destined folks can put their schedule in (or mix and match with the AIA sessions). Definitely handy:

… now if only they’d make it so you can look at your schedule on your iphone or android device rather than printing out paper …

*** by the way: it appears from the Twitterverse that the ‘official’ hashtag for the event is #aiaapa

*** by the way bis: as of this writing, the APA facebook page is but 92 ‘likes’ away from hitting the 1000 mark; if you haven’t ‘liked’ them yet, it’s probably a good time to show them some love:

Nuntii Latini (YLE)

Latest Latin news:

Tria principia defensionis Finniae

JULKAISTU 31.12.2012 KLO 10.03

Regimen Finnorum relationem de politica securitatis et defensionis comprobavit. Consilia de novis armis acquirendis in posterum differuntur sed tres rationes fundamentales integrae servantur. Pro primo: Finniam manere extra confoederationes militares, pro secundo: militiam esse obligatoriam, pro tertio: totam patriam esse defendendam.

alia: Anno vergente Russi Finniam frequentant … Parlamentum Italiae dimissum … De bello Syriaco … Ursus in abscondito moritur

Temples (?) from Sozopol

From Novinite:

Bulgarian archeologists in the historical coastal town of Sozopol are working on unearthing two antique temples – of Gods Poseidon and Priapus.

The information was announced over the weekend by the Director of the National History Museum and former Minister for Bulgarians abroad, Bozhidar Dimitrov. He added that archaeological excavations were ongoing near the fortress wall where the entrance to the town was uncovered in the summer with well-preserved parts of two towers and the “Saint Nikolay” monastery.

According to Dimitrov, two antique temples were discovered on the left of the monastery, both about 2-meters tall. Inside one there is a stone plate with an image of God Poseidon. The altar of the second temple is well-preserved, and was made by squares of white limestone cemented with iron clamps and lead. There, the archeologists have found a ceramic phallus with Priapus inscribed on it in ancient Greek. Dimitrov says this could be a gift from an individual who might have had some reproductive problems since Priapus is the god of fertility, protector of livestock, fruit plants, gardens and male genitalia.

Digs are also continuing at the north tower, which is located on the highest elevation in Sozopol. When works are completed, the tower will offer a splendid scenery viewed from the sea. Dimitrov predicts it will become one of the symbols of the historical town.

Okay … I’m getting cranky with identifications lately; not really sure what the basis for identifying these temples with these particular divinities, although the phallus is, er, suggestive. The other thing that confuses me is the photo that accompanies this article … I’ll break my usual practice of simply linking and include it below:

BGNES photo via Novinite

This is apparently a temple of Poseidon … it’s kind of interesting that no connection is made to the find of an erotic vase fragment at/near this site earlier this year (Erotic Vase Find from Sozopol)  … previous temple finds  include one to Demeter (Another Temple of Demeter) …

CJ Online Review: Wells, Pindar’s Verbal Art

posted with permission:

Pindar’s Verbal Art: An Ethnographic Study of Epinician Style. By JAMES BRADLEY WELLS. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies, 2010. Distributed by Harvard University Press. Pp. viii + 266. Paper, $19.95/£14.95. ISBN 978-0-674-03627-7.

Reviewed by Thomas K. Hubbard, University of Texas, Austin

Wells’ monograph, based on his doctoral dissertation, approaches Pindar’s epinician poetry through the lens of contemporary pragmatic linguistics, while also keenly engaged with the writings of the Russian formalists and the Prague School of linguistics. As such, it adds to a growing body of scholarly literature re-examining classical Greek texts from this perspective. For Wells, close analysis of the various registers and speech genres of epinician expression (“ways of speaking”) contributes to our understanding of social practice. This is not a work for beginners in the method, but scholars interested in what Wells calls “intersubjective objectivity,” i.e. “approaching context from the inside” of the text’s language, will find much here to reward their study.

The first chapter (“Text and Sign”) opens with a suggestive interpretation of the proem to Pindar’s Pythian 1 (especially the puzzling v. 3 πείθονται δ’ ἀοιδοὶ σάμασιν, “but singers heed the signs”), where he believes the signs in question are “sociolinguistic and traditional conventions that cue the singers’ performance of epinician song and, crucially, the audience’s participation in that performance” (21). Wells proceeds to discuss Pindar’s “metalanguage” (specific words of saying or singing) and “metacommunication” (statements, especially gnomic, about the proper use of language). Criticizing what he calls the “oral subterfuge hypothesis” (which sees the performative language as a pretext of extemporaneous speech, cloaking carefully premeditated writing), Wells insists on the primacy of orality and the performative act, with written diffusion as secondary and derivative. However, the temporal perspective is not one-dimensional: he later states that the original performance is successful precisely insofar as it becomes a model for future re-performance (140–1). Drawing on Paean 6.7–15, he sees the act of composition as a form of “recognition” of a pre-existing truth.

Some might criticize these assumptions as bending Pindar’s communication to an essentially Platonic theory of language, thus subject to Derrida’s critique of the “metaphysics of presence.” I would prefer to call attention to the ambiguities and tensions of Pindar’s disseminated text as it is refracted through multiple audiences and focal points of reception long after the initial performance, music, and dance are forgotten. I am also unsure that the success of an initial performance necessarily has any connection to re-performances, which may be adapted to different music, may be monodic rather than choral, and may appeal to spectators with a different ideological apparatus. Is a premiere performance always the “model” for re-performances? I recall being present when the Deutsche Oper in 2003 revived Mozart’s long-unperformed Idomeneo, only to have the General Director booed and hissed at the end, because of the production’s perceived impiety toward some traditional religious icons. The premiere’s success was at best ambiguous, but the production gained popularity and was later replicated in multiple cities. People with certain religious sensitivities were cautioned not to go, so later audiences were more receptive.

Chapter 2 (“Epinikion as Event”) begins by observing that the predominantly Doric and secondarily Aeolic dialect and meters encode oral performance (51–2). But I wonder whether the Aeolic element does not also point to the possibility of monodic re-performance more in the style of Sappho and Alcaeus? The chapter goes on to list several “performance keys,” including parallelism, repetition, rhetorical formulae, appeals to tradition, and disclaimers (e.g. break-off formulae), all of which enable the audience to “evaluate and interpret epinikion in terms of the art form’s idiomatic, connotative meaning” (59–60), which Wells sees as firmly embedded in actual performance.

Chapter 3 applies the linguist Dell Hymes’ concept of “ways of speaking” to epinician poetry by identifying several micro-genres within its ambit: gnomes, lyric (i.e. self-reflexive passages), angelia (the victory announcement), and mythical narrative. Various examples of these are analyzed with respect to six defining linguistic categories: speaker, addressee, speech object (i.e. theme), speech plan (i.e. perlocutionary force), spatial dimension, and temporal dimension (i.e. past, present, or future). Chapter 4 focuses on one specific way of speaking common in epinician, namely prayer. The chapter is grounded in a useful semantic discussion of Pindar’s various words for prayer. I am not, however, persuaded by the author’s argument for euchos (“vaunt”) as a self-reflexive reference to the epinician performance itself (93): its connection to prayer is rather as the accomplishment of what an athlete has prayed for. Wells fails to observe that Pindar uses the verb euchomai (“vaunt”) especially in contexts of claim to a divine patrimony (see O. 7.23, P. 4.97) and thus a special access to a god.

Chapter 5 (“Novelistic Features of Epinician Style”) is perhaps the book’s most adventurous, applying Bakhtin’s insights about the novel to the analysis of epinician polyglossia. However, I am not persuaded that a theory developed with regard to a nineteenth-century literary construct transfers that well. Generic interpenetration has always been a feature of Greek literature from the time of epic (with its distinctive linguistic and metrical registers for speech vs. narrative, not to mention the multiple micro-genres within both) to the familiar Hellenistic Kreuzung der Gattungen. Wells acknowledges that Bakhtin himself explicitly retreated from applying his approach to poetry, inasmuch as versification imprints a stylistic unity quite different from the variegated diction of the novel. He works around this objection by insisting that epinician combines “high” and “low” categories of verbal art (177). But his attempt to find “low” art in Pindar, based largely on the concept of “parody,” does not in my opinion succeed.

Wells’ sole example of Pindaric parody centers upon a rather tendentious interpretation of the term charis in Pindar’s Olympian 1 (159–69). While it is true that the word’s semantic range includes a specific application to sexual gratification, nothing codes sexuality as an inherently “low” topic: are Iliad 14, Sappho, and Theognis examples of a “low” style? Wells repeatedly invokes “questionable” or “irreverent sexual practices” in the myth of Poseidon and Pelops, but so far as I can see, what he so designates is nothing more than his unjustified assumption that Pelops’ prayer to Poseidon for the “loving gifts of Cypris” to yield some charis (vv. 75–6) somehow implies that the grown-up Pelops now demands the right to become an erastês to Poseidon in the role of a subordinate erômenos. This is certainly a novel interpretation of the passage, but it is grounded on nothing: charis implies a reciprocal relationship, in which Pelops has granted sexual favors (the “loving gifts of Cypris”) in return for some benefit he should receive from his older lover (parallel to the love-gifts of Greek vase painting, the pedagogical mentorship offered by Theognis, or the consolatory wisdom Sappho gives her younger companions). Wells would have benefited here from Bonnie MacLachlan’s excellent The Age of Grace (Princeton, 1993), which does not appear in his bibliography.

These criticisms of detail notwithstanding, Wells has produced an original and challenging monograph that updates our understanding of Pindar’s style and generic building-blocks with the insights of an increasingly influential sociolinguistic approach. Whether he has actually succeeded in revealing anything about the social practices of Pindar’s time out of his careful analysis of “ways of speaking” is something each reader will have to judge.

Classical Words of the Day

compotation (Dictionary.com)
numismatics (Wordsmith)
concumbence (Worthless)
molybdomancy (Wordnik)

Latinitweets:

CJ Online Review: Gallia, Remembering the Roman Republic

posted with permission:

Remembering the Roman Republic: Culture, Politics, and History under the Principate. By Andrew B. Gallia. New York and Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Pp. xiv + 319. Hardcover, $95.00/£60.00. ISBN 978-1-107-01260-0.

Reviewed by Thomas E. Strunk, Xavier University

Andrew Gallia has written a superb book, of which he has every reason to be proud. His study examines the period from the revolt against Nero in 68 to the reign of Trajan. It should be distinguished in this regard from another superb book, which on the surface looks rather similar, Alain Gowing’s Empire and Memory: The Representation of the Roman Republic in Imperial Culture (Cambridge, 2005). In distinction to Gowing, Gallia focuses on a shorter period of time and with greater depth. This focus and depth, along with a rare ability not only to analyze texts across genres but also to incorporate material culture, particularly numismatics, stand as Gallia’s achievement.

After a brief introduction on ancient and modern understandings of memory, Gallia begins in chapter one with the concept of freedom and its significance for the revolt against Nero in 68. Gallia relies on the usual historical suspects, Tacitus, Suetonius and Plutarch, but he also integrates the numismatic evidence, which for this period is particularly significant. Gallia argues that claims to libertas recalled both Republican ideals, hence Galba’s revival of M. Brutus’ famous Ides of March coins, and earlier Imperial conceptions, which are best represented by Augustus’ statements in the Res Gestae and Claudius’ coins advertising Libertas Augusta. This point is at the heart of Gallia’s study: libertas had manifold points of reference and could simultaneously invoke the Republic and the Principate. Modern scholarship has often been divided on stressing the continuity or discontinuity between the Republic and Principate, and the argument in favor of one or the other may be valid for a certain author or discreet historical period, but what Gallia succeeds in demonstrating is that both continuity and discontinuity co-existed side by side throughout the early Principate.

Chapter 2 addresses the significance of the Capitolium and its rebuilding under Vespasian. Gallia deftly demarcates the connections the Capitolium had with the Republican libertas from its associations with Roman imperialism. These competing claims were carefully championed by Helvidius Priscus and Vespasian respectively. In Chapter 3, Gallia explores Domitian’s execution of the Vestal Virgin Cornelia. Here too there were competing claims upon the Republic: Domitian’s desire to return to the morality of the Republic and Cornelia’s invocation of heroic Vestal Virgins from Rome’s past. In both Chapters 2 and 3, Gallia does a fine job of incorporating his knowledge of the topography of Rome with the literary texts, Tacitus’ Histories for the Capitolium and Pliny’s letter 4.11 on Cornelia (the text of which is included with an English translation in Appendix A).

In Chapter 4, Gallia turns to rhetoric and oratory with special emphasis on Pliny’s letters and Tacitus’ Dialogus de oratoribus. It is here that I have my one interpretive quibble with Gallia. In his discussion on the Dialogus, which begins with some acquaintances visiting Maternus out of their concern for his politically offensive play on Cato the Younger, Gallia persuasively delineates the various strands of Cato’s memory and meaning under the Principate: that of the Stoic philosopher who calmly accepted his death and that of the political opponent of autocracy who committed suicide rather than submit to a tyrant. When Gallia comes to discuss Maternus’ controversial speech at the close of the dialogue, which records the highest praise for the regime, he reads it at face value rather than taking the flattery as ironic; this alone is not a deal breaker (though see T. E. Strunk, “Offending the Powerful: Tacitus’ Dialogus de Oratoribus and Safe Criticism,” Mnemosyne 63 (2010) 241–67). Yet then Gallia explains why Maternus’ play on Cato offended the authorities by claiming that Maternus invoked the philosophic Cato rather than the political Cato. The problem here is that the philosophic Cato was not offensive to the authorities as demonstrated by the authors who appeal to it—Horace, Valerius Maximus, and Seneca amongst others; it was the political Cato invoked by Lucan, Thrasea Paetus, Helvidius Priscus, and, I assert, Maternus, that was threatening to the Principate. Maternus’ actions in the Dialogus make the most sense if Maternus’ Cato is the political Cato and his words at the end are ironic as an attempt to establish plausible deniability should he run into trouble with the regime. This critique, which many will not share, does not wholly detract from Gallia’s thesis, and in fact, the competing modern interpretations of the Dialogus are indicative of Gallia’s assertion that the meaning of figures like Cato was contested.

In Chapter 5, Gallia examines two sources that are generally not turned to in discussions of the memory of the Republic, Silius Italicus’ Punica and Julius Frontinus’ Strategemata. In both of these authors, Gallia shows how the Republic had to compete with a growing store of Imperial memories and exempla, as well as Greek exempla, which the Roman elite were ever more willing to look towards for models.

In his closing chapter, one of his strongest, Gallia considers the restoration coins of Trajan, a fascinating example of the Republic’s perduring memory under the Principate. Trajan’s restoration coinage was a series of denarii that copied various Republican coins so precisely that in most cases only Trajan’s legend distinguishes them from their Republican counterparts. Reissues of imperial coinage had occurred previously, as Trajan would do so himself, but never had Republican coinage been restored. Gallia explores the multiplicity of interpretations available to ancients and moderns, for Trajan did not shy away from controversial images or personalities in the restored coinage. Gallia helpfully includes an appendix providing details of all of these coins, though it does not contain images of them.

Gallia ends with a brief conclusion followed by the aforementioned appendices, an impressive thirty-nine page bibliography, and an index. The text is almost entirely free of misspellings and other errata. The writing is pleasant to read, and the argumentation is sophisticated yet pellucid. This is an excellent book, which all those interested in the Roman Republic and Principate will want to read.

Demise of a Major Classics Blog, Alas

… and it was one which I was not aware of! Tip o’ the pileus to Neville Morley (at Classics International) for pointing us to an item at the Bristol Classics blog about the disappearance of an important German language Classics blog:

… you should read the whole thing, but three paragraphs are bang on (alas):

[...] It’s tempting, and probably not wholly inaccurate, to think of the Aufstieg und Niedergang of A&A as telling us something significant about German culture: in positive terms, its seriousness, its willingness to engage properly with big ideas, and its habit of taking its audience seriously and treating it with respect, whereas we British bloggers, even if respectable academics, have to avoid anything that might make us seem remotely elitist or intellectual (the pervasive trope of self-deprecation, the desperate references to contemporary pop culture…). One might equally argue that the Germans, or at any rate the FAZ, had completely failed to grasp the conventions of the genre of the blog, or its manifest advantages: blogs are great precisely because they’re not properly worked-through academic articles, they can be spontaneous responses to whatever’s going on, and because they allow the author to admit to having a personality rather than rigorously suppressing this beneath the conventions of academic prose and propriety. The demise of Antike und Abendland may then be seen as a belated recognition that this kind of serious, scholarly blog is not really suited to bringing in the kinds of mass audience that media groups, even German media groups, are looking for.

But of course that doesn’t mean that a serious blog can never reach a substantial audience, simply that it will not reach the sort of audience that persuades a newspaper group to pay the author to produce it. That leaves the question of whether the author would happily turn out a 500+ word essay every week if not being paid for it – but the same could be said of A Don’s Life. The majority of blogs, even academic blogs, are personal enterprises, with their authors willing to devote the time to writing entries for non-pecuniary motives of some sort – and for many of us in the UK, I suspect, it is above all the opportunity to play around with ideas and respond quickly to whatever catches our interest, temporarily free from the looming presence of the REF and its minions that otherwise constantly shadows our research activities. There is also the opportunity to advertise forthcoming conferences and other events to keep classics on the map, to publicise one’s ‘proper’ publications and so forth, but above all we do this because it’s fun and informal, and that then conditions what we write and how we write it.

Is that all there is, and all blogs are for? In the world of classics and ancient history, it does rather feel like that; granted, I haven’t devoted much time to looking, but I don’t visit Mary’s blog, or Edith’s, or Constantina’s or the Rogue Classicist’s, in the expectation of heavyweight discussion of current academic debates – their personal insights on certain matters, yes, but that’s not the same thing, and they aren’t discussed in the same way by other visitors to the sites. Essentially, there seems to be little overlap between the world of academic debate on the ancient world and the world of classical blogs, beyond the identity of some of the authors (History of the Ancient World offers links to academic articles, but since it doesn’t allow any comments or discussion it’s irrelevant, and rather puzzling). Serious debate about ancient history and classics appears – I’m very happy to be corrected on this – to take place off-line, in the traditional fora of conferences and scholarly publications.

… all this is bang on and gives me the opportunity to bring up something I’ve been pondering for the past while. Why do we not have the equivalent of an ASOR blog  or Bible and Interpretation for Classics? Both these sites regularly post papers of various length from academics and there is often much discussion that follows (often lively). For the past while, e.g., the ASOR blog has been mostly updated with brief accounts of digs that have just concluded and personally, I’d much rather get such info straight from the diggers rather than filtered through some press guy looking for a sexy angle. As far as I can tell, however, the main sticking point of this would be that it would have to be done via one of the major organizations (whether on this continent or across the pond) who has some familiarity with the scholars involved for it to be taken seriously. I’m not talking something as major as the Princeton/Stanford Working Papers in Classics  but something more along the lines of things which one gets in the Ancient History Bulletin, but obviously covering all aspects of Classics and not being confined to scholars from a particular institution. Personally, I would LOVE if genuine scholars at academic institutions would send such things to Rogueclassicism to publish, but there seems to  be a reluctance for that, probably because Rogueclassicism isn’t ‘serious enough’, despite the massive outreach potential  (I’ve only had a couple of guest posts, as far as I recall, from genuine scholarly efforts — I have rejected probably a thousand or more requests for offers of guest posts which aren’t quite in that category).   If there are scholars out there with something they want to ‘test the waters’ with, feel free to drop me a line … if some institution would like to be the ‘filter’ and use Rogueclassicism as a platform, similiter.

Honours for Mary Beard!

Congratulations to Mary Beard, who has been awarded an OBE for services to Classical Scholarship. Very nice that such things continue to be recognized …. here are Dr Beard’s own thoughts on the matter:

  • OBE? (A Don’s Life)

FWIW, I tried to track down other Classics types who have been similarly honoured and they are few and far between:

  • Michael Grant OBE, CBE
  • Peter Jones MBE
  • Christopher Rowe, OBE
  • Martin Ferguson Smith, OBE

… I’m sure there are more, but not many more. Now I’m wondering if Dr Beard is the first woman Classicist so honoured …  Again, congrats to our favourite Don!!

UPDATE (an hour or so later): Averil Cameron received a DBE in 2006

CJ Online Review: Wight, Molten Color: Glassmaking in Antiquity

posted with permission

Molten Color: Glassmaking in Antiquity. By Karol B. Wight. Los Angeles: Getty Publications, 2011. Pp. 128; 92 color and 2 b/w illustrations, 36 line drawings, 1 map. Paper, $20.00/£13.99. ISBN 978-1-60606-053-7.

Reviewed by Susan Walker, Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford

The well-chosen cover photograph of a multi-colored ribbon flask, a product of early imperial Roman glass-making, illustrates both the sense of flow in the title and the visual appeal of this short survey of glassmaking in antiquity. Recently appointed Director of the Corning Museum of Glass, Wight has retained her sense of wonder at the technical brilliance of ancient glass, and communicates her passionate interest in glassmaking throughout the book. The work is addressed to a non-specialist audience.

A short introduction makes the modern reader aware of the omnipresence of glass in our daily lives; a first chapter explains what glass is and how its properties have been exploited. Good use is made here of illustrations from early books. Wight alludes briefly to the advances made in recent decades in our understanding of the chemistry of ancient glass. The map of the Roman Empire is puzzling: the sites marked on it require explanation as centers of glass-making at various times in antiquity. An historical overview begins with the earliest techniques used in Bronze Age Mesopotamia and Egypt: casting, core-forming and mosaic glass. Wight moves on to the Mediterranean of the first millennium BC, where there is a frustrating lack of surviving glass of monumental scale, but where gold-glass was first exploited and Hellenistic glass-makers developed mosaic glass to new heights of perfection. The processes of core-forming and making mosaic glass are well explained and clearly illustrated.

Much space is devoted to the glass of the Roman Empire, for the Romans exploited to spectacular effect the newly discovered technique of glass-blowing. Raw glass was exported to Europe from Judaea and Alexandria. Early imperial control of the Alpine regions allowed the exploitation of abundant local resources of metal and wood to turn glass from a small-scale, luxury product into a convenience for the masses. Secondary workshops employed glassmakers using iron blowpipes; these could hold heavier gobs of molten glass than the earliest known pipes of glass or ceramic found in Judaea. Large containers were produced, and, most significantly for the future of the craft, glass could be recycled.

Glass thus acquired a much wider range of uses, which are explored in the last chapter of the text. The excellent photographs are not scaled but dimensions are given in the captions, along with a brief description of the glass’s function and technique of manufacture and, most usefully, a museum inventory number. A glossary explains technical terms printed in bold font in the text. The layout of the chapter headings is irritating, set within the first page of text.

The focus of Molten Glass is technological and exclusively focused upon the Getty Museum’s collection. In the preface, the author explains that the book draws upon an exhibition prepared in 2006. Temporary exhibitions of ancient glass have been a major source of scholarship in recent years: within the short bibliography Wight refers to another influential display organized by technique: Glass of the Caesars, held at the British Museum and other venues in the late 1980s. Vitrum: Il vetro fra arte e scienza nel mondo romano, held in Florence in 2004, produced a catalogue of lasting value, perhaps omitted because the publication, edited by M. Beretta and G. Di Pasquale, is in Italian. I missed any recommendation to read E. Marianne Stern’s seminal article “Roman Glass-blowing in a Cultural Context”, AJA 103 (1999) 441–84. Scholarship on ancient glass is international, with significant publications in all the major European languages, comprehensively summarized and critically reviewed every five years by Marie-Dominique Nenna in Revue Archéologique.

Notwithstanding these limitations, Wight gives her readers a valuable, well-illustrated and clear account of the techniques of glass-making in antiquity as seen through the remarkable collections of the J. Paul Getty Museum. The museum would do well to commission a series of similar books on the making of other classes of object within its collections.

Dissection in Early Alexandria

Very interesting item at History in an Hour … here’s a tease:

During the third century BCE, the city of Alexandria was home to a remarkable event in the development of ancient medicine as two physicians, named Herophilus and Erasistratus, conducted ground-breaking investigations into internal human anatomy. This research was important not only because it corrected many ancient misconceptions about the body, but because the doctors are believed to have reached their conclusions by dissecting human corpses, a practice outlawed in the Ancient World.

Here’s the rest: