The Whole Earth as a Tomb

Halt in the name of Caesar!

2011-04-03T16:04:00.002+02:00

I'm gonna call a halt to the blog for the time being. I do love posting on it, but it's just such a pressure for time. I have about 50 things above it in order of priority and I simply can't cram enough classics into my life to keep having stuff to post about.

I'll still be reading, researching and keeping up with things. I just want blabber on about then so much :-)

Thanks everyone!

Yet More Spartacus...

2011-02-19T22:42:00.003+01:00

It's still juicy. Episode 5 was great, although the name was a tad misleading overall and the opening dream sequence made me feel cheated because it would have been very fitting. Nevermind.

What I do worry about though is the next series and how they'll manage to portray the landscapes required for the Servile War instigated by Spartacus. The set at the moment is incredibly small and there is a large amount of CGI involved. Move into the fields of Italy and following a roving army means it becomes significantly more difficult.

How shall the Roman armies be depicted? How will the battles and landscapes be done? How will the show handle being without a certain bloody fantastic John Hannah? What form will the character of Crassus take? (decadent miscreant, no doubt).

Another point it that the Ludus presents such an interesting setting for the series, and I can't help but wonder once it's been removed if the show will lack a certain anchor point which has served it well.

All that said, they have created a rather captivating show and I have no doubt they'll manage to script a second series filled with as much sex and violence as series one and the current mini series. I'm already excited about it and Gods of War hasn't even finished!

Spartacus: Gods of War.

2011-02-13T16:51:00.003+01:00

So, Spartacus returned to our screens a couple weeks back (I've seen the two thirds of the mini series that have been broadcast already) in the form of a 6 episode mini series that serves as a prequel (prelude?) to the first series, Blood and Sand.

The mini series was initially meant to plug the gap opened up by Spartacus getting cancer (not the real Spartacus) and needing time to recover before season two (scheduled to get going in Autumn this year). As it turns out, his cancer has returned and Spartacus has been recast. That's all by-the-by, though, but I sincerely hope he gets better for good.

Anyway. Gods of War has been epic thus far. Most folks felt Blood and Sand took a while to find its feet, but I think GoW (from now on, to save my weary fingers) hit its stride right from the off. It's a frothing affair sticky from blood and sweaty from the sordid sex. John Hannah (SPOILER: brutally killed at the end of the first series) is a raving lunatic once again, and his role basically makes the show. He roves around the place ruthlessly scheming and plotting, and the show takes the interesting angle of having his father come back to take control of the Ludus, which has - so far- transpired to be an excellent story line.

As a kind of origin story for the Ludus seen in the first series, it's worked really well. As always with prequels, the force of what's going on comes from the fact that we know what comes next. The various characters are seen before their *current* form and it's interesting to see why they are the way they are (which in most cases is totally understandable given what's gone on so far).

Bugbears: every important Roman is depicted as the worst kind of pervert, and they cast the creepiest looking actors to portray important politicians, so much so that it's hard to watch them. One particular actor in episode three had such a vulgar way about him that I practically knew he'd be examining slave girl hymens before the episode was over. This is, of course, the nature of the show, and so it's hardly surprising.

Can't wait for the rest of the mini series and season two later this year.

Emperor Series.

2011-01-16T10:06:00.003+01:00

I apologise for the lack of updates. I've simply been too busy. I have a professional life not quite related to the classics and it can get a bit heavy sometimes. Nevertheless, my classical reading has kept pace.

I recently finished the first book of Conn Iggulden's "Emperor" series (The Gates of Rome), which I enjoyed for the most part. It's worth saying it's a work of fiction and it's really only for geeks and historians to believe fictional works must adhere to the facts, but I have to say that the end really quite irritated me.

The setting is primarily Rome and the surrounding countryside. The story follows the young Julius Caesar and his friend Marcus as they begin to enter adulthood - through training with a veteran soldier, to eventually joining his Uncle Marius' staff in Caesar's case and subsequently witnessing his fabled Uncle being crushed by his enemy, Sulla. Marcus decides to bugger off with the navy to the East.

Now, the book reads very easily. The page and font size are very much conducive to speedy reading, and the various set pieces of action throughout are well written and convey something of the bloody mayhem of ancient warfare. The characters never quite come off the page (for my money, Sulla is most well written, but he's not around too much, although perhaps this comes down to the negative way he's presented, as opposed to the essentially good, if stern, main characters).

Anyway. To the frustrating part. Iggulden plays with the names of his characters, with Julius Caesar being called Gaius as a child and Marcus' full name not being revealed until the final page. The former seems rather pointless, as it's clear whose life the book is supposed to "chronicle" but the latter twist is awful. It's a lame literary trick and I felt cheated by it, although I must concede I didn't see it coming (incredibly). *SPOILERS AHEAD*

It turns out of course that Marcus is of course Marcus Junius Brutus - assassin of Caesar! It turns out they're best friends! How lame! I couldn't quite believe it. Established history puts them about 15 years apart in age (the boys are only that age for the duration of the book) and the famous rumour is that Brutus is in fact the son of the early-to-be-sexually-active Caesar. Naturally, that's not enough for historical fiction so they have to be friends, fighting off Sulla together, even before Brutus was actually born.

I have the second book (I purchased them from the Book Depository - as essential source for English books for those of us who live abroad and enjoy free delivery), but at the minute I loathe to read it as the dramatic set-up that ended the first book disappointed me so much. They're certainly easy to read, but I haven't had the empty period of time required to devour such a novel recently.

I recommend the novels to anyone who doesn't get annoyed as I do about such stuff.

Busy...

2010-10-17T11:40:00.003+02:00

Just terribly busy again.

Haven't forgotten about the blog, will update whenever I have something to say and some time to say it.

Hedgehogs and Profound Thoughts...

2010-09-04T11:40:00.004+02:00

I'm currently reading "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" by Murial Barbery, which was originally written in French but I'm reading the English translation. Prior to buying the book I read a review that said it doesn't particularly suit British tastes because it has no obvious plot. That's pretty true, and it's rather just a series of musings from two somewhat related but independent commentators.

They comment on a great deal of things and are keen to philosophise. Sometimes I find how it's presented rather distasteful, but it's occasionally beautiful and provoking (although I'm constantly wondering if the turn of phrase really conveys the meaning intended by the original French or if it's a best fit scenario).

One of the "profound thoughts" (the chapter really has this name) is that the world is run by "weak" men. They are the masters of language but they couldn't protect their own garden, kill an animal for food or any other more "primal" activities. This immediately led me to think about Cicero - does he qualify as a "weak" man, insomuch as he was a true master of language but not famed for his warrior spirit (in the primal sense of the word, anyway)? I suppose the answer is - yes.

The book considers this somewhat perverse or contra to something vital. I partially agree, but in the context of Cicero it's worth remembering that he's somewhat of an exception. Most of the figures of the later Republic that Cicero rubbed shoulders with were also experts in the realms of language yet were also great warriors (or Generals, at least). Caesar, for example (as he always is!), displays an amazing ability for clearness in his use of Latin and his warrior attributes are well documented.

Many ancient Romans, then, seem to combine both a mastery of language and primal abilities that is lacking in the brokers of power in modern times. Times have changed. Skill in speaking and sneakiness has outstripped more "honest" and primal ability (this may be the natural order of things, I don't know) but I do hark for what was before. I don't like quite so much talk. In this respect, I think the book has tapped into something interesting.

What is (intrinsically better) power through strength or power through eloquence? The question is then begged, though, can't you have both? I think many ancient Romans did, and accepting one as better than the other (but considering them independent) as Barbery does is missing the point a little.

Testing...

2010-08-29T13:38:00.001+02:00

Just testing from Android!

Caesar on Android.

2010-08-29T13:03:00.004+02:00

I recently picked up an HTC smart-phone (life changing, as much as I hate to admit it) and have just found out something pretty cool that it can do.

I have a fair collection of books on classical history in digital format and I've managed to get them onto my phone for portable reading. That in itself is probably not especially interesting to most people, but it's been amazing for me.

I am now reading "Always I am Caesar" by Jeffery Tatum, whenever I have a spare moment and nothing else to do. Flicking through the book using the capacitive touch screen is a really satisfying experience. (The books is pretty good, so far, by the way).

Modern technology has the capacity to really inform and change how ancient history is presented to this and future generations. Stage one was obviously the internet and easy access to information on history, ancient languages and scholarly work. Modern smart-phones now have a wealth of apps (applications) available that facilitate enquiry into the ancient world in a way never before imagined.

It's now possible for the phone to use your location to recommend sites of interest to visit and then to link directly to articles about said sites with info and other recommended reading. Another feature, although still in it's infancy, allows you to take a snapshot of anything unknown (a building, statue, painting etc) and then submit that picture to a database and then get information on what it is etc. This service will get better and better as more people use it and as the database grows.

Eventually you'll be able to visit a remote part of Greece and take a snapshot of a random ruin and have an answer as to what it was and what it's all about. That's a pretty interesting thought. The implications of such technology can be occasionally frightening, but in the realms of ancient history at least, they present a new age of connectivity and the sharing of information that in many cases is quite obscure.

Next step - try to update the blog from Android itself!

Latin Tattoos...

2010-07-30T20:30:00.005+02:00

Rogue Classicism has posted a fair bit recently about Latin tattoos (following a news report that tattoos were spurring some kind of renaissance of the Latin language) and as a person who loves tattoos (I have several) I felt like saying something about it!

First off, I'm not necessarily a fan of boneheads emblazoning Latin across their bodies in the hope of seeming erudite, when indeed the classical spirit has seemingly avoided them (although who am I to be the keeper and arbiter of who may have and what indeed really is "classical spirit"), but in some ways it's good to see people respect Latin in some way enough to tattoo themselves with it.

Rogue Classicism has recently posted a bit about classicists with classical tattoos, and I sort of fit into that category. I'm a classics graduate and I'm a bit of an amateur classicist (I don't get paid to "classicise" but I just adore it and it's one of my major hobbies). I've had a classical tattoo in the works for ages, and should be getting it inked later this year.

I've attached an image for the interested:

Essentially it's inspired by Lucan's Bellum Civile, insomuch as he characterises Pompey as an old oak tree and Caesar as a kind of storm, and in my planned tattoo the storm is striking the oak tree with lightning with the Rubicon dividing the two. The plan is for the tattoo to take up the whole of my upper right arm.

I think using an image such as this which is deeply classical in some respects to me but not instantly recognisable is the most classical I would go with a tattoo. I'd hate to get some Latin text just in case someone mistook me for being genuinely erudite or indeed faking it!

Still Alive...

2010-07-25T12:06:00.002+02:00

Alive, just busy.

Will hopefully have time for regular posts again come the end of August. I'm simply working too much to really put something down, although I am still reading and keeping up with classical news.

I hope all is well!

Scotland.

2010-06-21T10:14:00.003+02:00

I'm off back to Scotland for the summer (two months-ish) where I'll be living and working in Edinburgh (teaching) before buggering off back here to CZ.

I don't know how much I will be able to post (depends on how busy I am - but it's looking hectic now), although I will try to post whenever possible. I doubt I'll be doing many classically related things, sans a visit to my old university (Glasgow) and maybe a quick peek at the numismatic collection (providing my lady isn't too against it!).

I haven't had a great deal of time to read anything new, and much of the classical news kicking around touches on things I've basically written about before - pedestrian finds "sexed up" to get funding, nobody having a genuine clue where Cleopatra's tomb is, but having a damn good time telling everyone they do anyway and other bits and pieces - and so I've found it difficult to write anything about them.

Apart from random ruminations, the only things I've done recently that can be tangibly related to the classics are: read Beard and Henderson's "Classical Art" (although I got sunburnt while doing so, and as a result my feelings for the text have slid down somewhat); I watched the entire first season of Spartacus: Blood and Sand - which I totally dug. It was very entertaining and blood thirsty to a fault.

I was surprised how good it was, to be honest. I expected it to be absolutely trash, but Spartacus was well cast and John Hannah was sensational as he practically chomped away at the scenery. Throw in the completely OTT sex scenes intertwined with unbelievable violence (taken so far that it becomes comical, pretty much) and it was a great show. I'm looking forward to the prequel and the eventual sequel very much.

I also (re)watched HBO's Rome for the umpteenth time (I really can't recall, but it's definitely 6 times, minimum) and I enjoyed it as much as I always do. I was a bit cerebral with my attack on the depiction of Agrippa last time I watched it, but he still rankles with me. It's just such a wonderful show. I always have a distinct sadness when it's over, for the protagonists (fictive as some are and a mix of fictive and real as others are) always feel like friends come the end of 22 hours viewing and not only do we depart from listening to their tale, but they are all in fact dead and died some 2000 years ago. I suppose it's a mixture of feeling quite close to them (as bizarre as it sounds) and then immediately realising the distance between us is enormous.

Anyway. I hope the very few that stumble across this post have a wonderful summer.

Old Shoes.

2010-06-11T16:13:00.005+02:00

Not especially insightful this one, I imagine. Anyway, here I go.

A news story caught my eye this week - that of the bloody old shoe! (read it here). Essentially, some archaeologists found a 5500 year old leather shoe in a cave in Armenia preserved under heaps of sheep dung (finds don't get much more interesting than that, do they?!).

Anyway, you're perhaps wondering how I'm going to squeeze a classical angle out of this and here it is: finds like this always remind me that the ancient world wasn't that ancient. It's often a bit of a mental challenge for me to remember that very little changed in everyday life for a few millennia (until the 19th and mostly 20th century) and that the ancients lived relatively similar lives to people alive just a few hundred years ago (stress on the "relatively").

I'm always surprised when I see artefacts from ancient homes - shoes, mirrors, hair clasps, cups - the lot. Something in my mind always associates the ancients with being truly ancient. Finds like this remind me that the Romans had shoes quite similar to modern leather shoes and they're really not so distant as they seem.

Perhaps this post betrays my own stupidity, but I always find keeping a firm chronology in my head (and understanding that time matters) can be rather difficult. It's rather easy to clump the whole of antiquity to together, even though there are some 500 years or so between the beginning of the classical period and the death of Augustus, for example. A lot happened, and a lot changed.

Like I mentioned before - everyday life hadn't changed too much during that period, and so perhaps it's unfair to compare that five hundred years to the same period between the 1500s and now, where life has changed significantly, but nevertheless, it's vital to remember that antiquity is not a single period but rather many linked ones.

That's my ramble over for today. It's insanely beautiful weather here in Plzen and I plan to try to enjoy it with several beers from this wonderful place.

Lepidus: Unfairly Treated? II

2010-06-09T14:30:00.003+02:00

Finished it, then.

Not bad, not bad. I wonder now, having finished, whether the sole aim of the work (as the title utterly gives away) has in some way coloured the worth of the text? It really is a work of history that primarily aims to defend a character and then sets about it.

It's done quite well, for the most part. The Bryn Mawr review (here) has the same misgiving as I had when reading the text - there are just too much usage of "might/must have been" and "it seems quite possible that", which is most certainly a result of the evidence for removing Lepidus' tarnish being not as convincing as it's made out to be.

Like I said in my previous post, I've always thought Lepidus was hard done by, and I always feel for him, in a sense, when I watch HBO's Rome and he's usually ignored or sidelined. That, of course, perhaps puts me at a disadvantage because I want to believe Weigel's book, even if it's slightly lacking in force.

In the end, the overwhelming impression I got of Lepidus after reading the work was that he was an able man, used well by "greater" men and while he's perhaps unfairly treated, there is no hidden Lepidus that is waiting in the shadows that can be used by a modern historian to redeem the tarnished triumvir.

Lepidus: Unfairly Treated?

2010-06-03T20:15:00.003+02:00

I'm currently reading Lepidus: The Tarnished Triumvir by Richard D. Weigel, and I gotta say, I dig it.

Marcus Aemelius Lepidus has always seemed like a rather fascinating character to me, he's all over accounts of the Late Republic, but he's nearly always given short thrift. He's relegated to the sidelines of the struggle for supremacy that engulfed the Late Republic and nobody really seems to really care what he's up to.

Maybe that's why, then, I kinda looked for a book such as the one I'm reading at the moment. Weigel argues that Lepidus is unfairly treated in most accounts of his life, as well as modern commentaries, owing to two central factors: he irritated Cicero and he challenged Octavian (later Augustus).

I'll put a fuller review up here once I've finished reading the book, but it's certainly an interesting topic. Especially so as I am re-watching HBO's Rome and the somewhat cerebral and "sidelined" Lepidus makes a mandatory appearance (as he does so frequently) but he is ever so slightly mocked, derided and essentially made unimportant.

The Ancient Novel.

2010-05-30T14:53:00.003+02:00

I've just finished reading (well, two days ago) the English version of Niklas Holzberg's "The Ancient Novel: An Introduction", which I think is a pretty neat little text.

In the final year of my Masters I took a course on the Ancient Novel, and as fun as it was, I now realise how heavily it was based on Holzberg, which is a great compliment to the book - I suppose it forms the basis of all modern introductory courses on the topic.

It's 129 pages, all in - including the author's note, bibliography and index, which is made up of five chunks: the genre; the rise of the genre; the idealistic novel in early Imperial times; the comic-realistic novel and finally the idealistic novel in the age of the second sophistic. A chronological route, then.

The opening two sections set the tone - the first, especially, puts down the thrust of the whole work - that the ancient novel exists as a separate and defined genre, which the second supports by describing it's origins. Both of these are convincing. Holzberg discusses how the novels we have exhibit clearly defined motifs (or inversions of these motifs) throughout, and how the form of the novels, while influenced by other genres, clearly came about from a conscious decision to create a new genre that was separate, unique and different.

Holzberg then goes on to discuss the various novels we have in chronological order, with a large focus on detailing their respective plot lines. This is of the highest importance because by the end of the book one has the overwhelming feeling that the novel exists as a separate and distinct genre, which exhibits clear and unique motifs throughout.

The text, as a whole, is an attempt to justify the study of the novel as a distinct genre and prove not only to posterity but to classical scholars that it's worthy of consideration and that it most certainly exists as single genre with defined parameters. Holzberg is successful in doing this, for sure.

The novel has perhaps been ignored as a genre until modern times, and derided by scholars as insignificant in the classical corpus - wispy sort of stuff not really worth studying. Holzberg organises a defence of it, and it works. I like the ancient novels - they're interesting, fun, escapist but with plenty of depth and worth.

There is nothing essentially wrong with the text at all - it's a fantastic introduction, and therein is perhaps the only qualm I have with it - it does nothing more than establish the novel as a genre, further discussion is not all that frequent. Introductory texts don't usually have to defend the genre they will discuss (too much, anyway) but the novel very much needed the help, and so I can hardy moan about the book being too "introductiony".

Having a more clearly defined conclusion may have helped, and given the reader a chance to have everything summed up, but it was perhaps Holzberg's active decision to not include one, and leave the work very much as a departure point - the very foundations, so to speak, upon which a study of the genre could be built upon. In that respect, it's not such a big loss.

I recommend the book for anyone who hasn't really considered the ancient novel before - it gives a nice overview of the genre and is easy enough to read. It's concise and to the point and should be the starting point for pretty much anyone interested in the novel, but unsure how to approach it or how it fits in with classical studies more generally.

Spartacus Blood and Sand: Not so bad after all?

2010-05-26T12:04:00.005+02:00

Surprisingly the most recent low budget recreation of the ancient world, Spartacus: Blood and Sand, is actually pretty damn good.

I saw the first season in full a while ago (from U.S TV) and I was surprised how fun and interesting it really this. The teaser trailers made it look ultra low budget, faux stylistic and a little silly, and while that's all pretty much true - they've actually managed to make a pretty decent TV show that gets better as the first season goes on. That seems to be the consensus among many people - it's surprisingly not bad and it gets better episode by episode.

I'm a huge fan of the BBC'S I, Claudius and HBO's Rome, both of which are immensely well done shows that capture the essence of the classical world in different yet interesting ways. I suspected Spartacus would be a cheaply done 300 in episodic form - entertaining enough but missing something. I suppose I was wrong.

The show basically chronicles the rise of Spartacus and his reasons for initiating the servile rebellion. Since we know very little of the real Spartacus (such as one can now exist), most of this element of the show is fictive. The context it's set in (late Republican Rome) is, of course, not fictive, and the show does reasonably well in rendering the period in which Spartacus operated.

It's been remarked that the moral behind Spartacus' rebellion (betrayed by a Roman, his wife in slavery) is quintessentially modern in conception, which is true I think, but it does give some pathos and motivation to the character (despite said motivation being very similar to that of a certain Maximus Decimus Meridius, give or take).

It seems the show has been popular enough to continue, although they are making a prequel (which has to be entirely fictional) owing to the lead actor, Andy Whitfield, developing non-Hodgkin lymphoma, as opposed to a sequel.

If the sequel is made, I wonder how they'll characterise the defeat of Spartacus at the hands of Crassus, and if it'll essentially be Kubrick's Spartacus all over again. There is some mileage in romanticising characters who face the nefarious might of the Roman state and are unceremoniously crucified along the Appian Way, but it's curiously modern. I'm supporting the Romans here - and history does too. Despite the several servile wars - they were all crushed - slavery continued for centuries and Spartacus is nothing more now than a figure fit for embellishment in low budget TV shows. Kind of sad, really.

That idea, though, is ever so slightly cerebral, which I can be guilty of, and it really shouldn't take too much away from enjoying this show!

In other business, I'm reading a book about the ancient novel and I'll hopefully put something up about that soon.

Did Marathon Change Everything?

2010-05-20T09:11:00.008+02:00

Via rogueclassicism and TheDartmouth.com.

Prof. Richard Billows, in the Darthmouth.com article mentioned above claims, in a lecture aimed at supporting his soon-to-be-published book on the topic, that the Battle of Marathon can be considered one of the pivotal moments of world history.

He argues that had the Athenians lost the battle at Marathon to the Persians, Western Civilisation would be radically different - there would be no democracy, no Socrates or Plato, no Aeschylus or Sophocles. Essentially, he's claiming that the victory at Marathon set the tone for the next two generations - a period of immense intellectual, cultural and political development.

His argument is full of "mays", "maybes" and "mights". I have to say I find it a little bit tiresome. It can be an interesting exercise, but it seems like a stroke of poor imagination to pick an event (even though Marathon is well chosen) and say: "things could maybe possible be much different if that single event had never transpired or ended in a different fashion!".

I think as human beings we like these kind of explanations - they appeal to us and we enjoy the mental exercise of "what if?", but I think "research" and speculation on the topic is mostly a waste of time. I don't think we need a book on it.

Moreover - why choose Marathon? It's a single event that can be easily labelled, I suspect. Why not choose, say, the Persian decision to invade Greece, the weather or any assortment of other factors? I reckon it's because they don't have the same "pull" as the "big" events of history, but they seem to be to be just as equally valid.

Speculative counter-factual history can be interesting or fun (Nazi's hiding on the moon!?) but in the field of classics, and especially when taken seriously, it seems like a colossal waste of time to me. It has a tiny bit of merit insomuch as it may call attention to things we take for granted, but it's a fun mental exercise, nothing more.

It's overly simplistic to choose a single event and say it changed everything. Ignoring the fact that it's built on the idea that ultimately there is a prime mover of some sort in every sequence of events, it just demonstrates a lack of true imagination and demonstrates a fondness for simple or stark explanations. The flourishing of Athens after Marathon was part of a development stretching much further back in time - it was an instance on an enormous time scale which we can't really comprehend. Explanations such as this one are poor attempts at doing so.

I don't have a problem with artistic licence being taken in books, novels or TV shows - in fact, in these cases, reading into historical events can be interesting, it's just the notion of taking counter-factual history as a useful tool in genuine historical discourse that I dislike. Maybe I'm being a stick in the mud, though!

Should the Colosseum Even Be Open?

2010-05-15T10:19:00.003+02:00

It was reported this week that some "chunks" have fallen off the Colosseum in Rome (link). As ever, the show continues and the Colosseum remains open.

Should it be? I know there is a feeling that classical sites must be opened so that the millions of tourists that visit each year can spend 15 seconds of confused wonder snapping endless photographs for their Facebook pages (do people only go on holiday now so that they can let other people know about it via social networking?), but I'm not sure I hold to it.

Many classical sites desperately need some repairs (the Italians, especially, care more about marketing and flare than genuine care - although I'm generalising, of course) but they remain open, even when "chunks" are falling off of them.

I believe that the physical remains of the classical world that we have left must be preserved not to merely service the tourist industry, but to remind people of the glory of the classical past, its wonders and what it has given to us. At the moment it seems to be a numbers game, and that's rather sad.

My proposal, then, would be to make sites such as the Colosseum (those which can be damaged by constant visitation, or need repairs due to unavoidable decay) harder to visit. People can mill around outside, but make the process of actually visiting more complicated. Not elite, nor difficult, just harder. My hope would be that then only people who truly wanted to visit and are willing to appreciate what they're looking at would bother sorting it all out.

Visiting Rome now seems like an exercise in ticking things off a list for most tourists. In some ways that is similar to the Romans who simply had to see the wonders of Greece, but I hazard a guess that the modern tourist does it with much less reverence than their Roman predecessor. The process has been cheapened, somewhat, and I wish that rot could be reversed.

Again, I don't want to sound elitist at all - the remains of the classical world are our heritage, but given that we're unable to appreciate that (on the whole) something else needs to be done.

Gone missing...

2010-05-13T09:33:00.002+02:00

I'm afraid I've pretty much just gone missing these past two months. I suppose, sadly, it's simply a consequence of classics being directly unrelated to my job and so it occasionally gets put on the back burner.

I've still been thinking about them a great deal - I just haven't posted anything. I've been reading up about the genre of the novel, I'm rewatching HBO's Rome and I've been keeping up to date with classical news and blogs, but just while remaining silent.

My hope is to fit the blog into my life somehow and manage a post or so ever week. That's significantly less than before, but better than nothing.

Nathaniel Fick and Classics.

2010-03-08T09:53:00.005+01:00

For the past month I've been on a Generation Kill, Evan Wright Nathaniel Fick binge, so to speak.

I first watched the HBO TV show Generation Kill, an adaptation of Evan Wright's book of the same name, which chronicles a Recon Marine division's invasion of Iraq in 2003. I love both the book and the TV show. Wright developed a lot of respect for the Marines, and I guess I have now too.

They're not mindless, and in many cases they're incredibly bright. They feel drawn towards war because of their need to be a warrior. As a result they eschew the normal things people their ages do and join the Marines. I suppose I admire that in a way.

One of the central characters of both book and TV show is Nathaniel Fick - Lieutenant of the Hitman Platoon that we primarily follow. In both versions of the story he is an incredibly moral and intelligent leader, and it interested me to discover that he had also written a memoir of his time as a Marine in a book entitled "One Bullet Away: The Making of a Marine Officer".

Needless to say, I swiftly picked it up. To my surprise Fick is a classics graduate, and the three sections of his book (Peace, War and Aftermath) each begins with a classical quote - Thucydides, Plutarch and St. Augustine, respectively). Once I'd finished the book, it dawned on me that Fick is somewhat of a classical character.

He's immensely reflective and moral, yet overwhelmingly practical. Recalling some of the Roman soldiers of the past. The comparison continues when one considers his remarkably readable and clear writing style - again recalling a certain famous Roman General. It's not lost on him either that he was part of a military force invading a country with a great ancient heritage. The parallels between him and yet another great classical soldier could be drawn here.

All in all, it's a great book and Fick an interesting figure. The power of the text works through it's elegant but simple prose and through the introspective look Fick gives to his role during a crucial time in modern history.

Caesar and the World Beyond.

2010-02-27T11:18:00.004+01:00

Recently I've had a rather interesting experience. A friend of mine is married to psychic and is able, my friend says, to commune with the dead. Now, I'm of course rather sceptical about the whole shebang, but I do trust my friend and his intellectual faculties, and so I was open to discussing it at least.

He told me how his wife had spoken to his Grandfather and in a later session Aldous Huxley, and how interesting the experience was. He suggested that perhaps, sometime, his wife may try to speak to Caesar and accordingly he asked me if I had any questions I'd like to ask him.

The first question that sprung to mind was, as you may expect, the truth about Nicomedes and if Caesar had indeed been his lover. Second was if he could explain the manner in which his Gallic War commentaries were released and to which readership he intended them for.

So, my friend's wife put these questions to Caesar and the replies were interesting. The first question put him in an egotistical rage and he was in such a sulk no progress could be made. On the face of it that may feel like a cop out, but I think it could make some sense.

Caesar was extremely touchy about the whole affair (pardon the pun) and for his whole life overreacted to it and, ironically gave credence to the rumour with his passionate denials. So, his response here seems fitting with the attitude of the living Caesar, so to speak.

I found my friends story very interesting, I must say.

Plutarch's Moralia.

2010-02-07T14:03:00.003+01:00

As I mentioned below, I've been reading an old Penguin edition of Rex Warner's translation of Plutarch's Moralia.

So far I've just read His Advice On Marriage (I've been busy with work, plus I'm reading Camus, Orwell and a fair few books from Marines who served during the 2003 Iraq invasion), but I think they're just so incredibly interesting.

I suppose On Marriage does not suit well with modern tastes (it's very much of it's time, and could be considered, by modern standards I must stress, wholly misogynistic). That, though, is a great disservice to the work.

In it Plutarch gives advice to a newly married couple of his acquaintance and the majority of it is reassuring words on how a woman should act to keep her husband both happy and their relationship solid. Not only is it a valuable insight into Roman values, it's wonderful as a window into the "ideal" Roman marriage and the relationship between the genders.

If you consider it within the framework of the value system it was written under then it's a very touching, genuine and somewhat lovingly written piece, and it shows a really humane side to Plutarch that is very pleasant to engage with.

One thing that struck me is the expectations put upon a proper Roman wife. It was a difficult life, I have no doubt. She needed to be a master diplomat, and in many respects a servant to her husband. This, of course, may make little sense to modern (Western) readers, but I think it highlights the complex nature of a Roman woman's life and also, by implication, how well educated and able she must be to fulfil such a role - no idiot could be a proper Roman wife, it seems.

Finally, and I'm not fully qualified to comment on this, I wonder to what extent the age of Warner's translation colours how it can be interpreted. There is considerable leeway in the translating of classical texts and the translation can depend not simply on words, but on the age of the translation, the conventions of the time, the translator and many other things. It's an interesting aside.

Some Thoughts On Catherine Steel's "Roman Oratory".

2010-01-26T19:51:00.004+01:00

Like I mentioned below, I studied under Prof. Steel during my masters and I always found her to be immensely knowledgeable and a great convenor of seminars, and during my final year of University I picked up her "Roman Oratory" with some excitement (her course on oratory was one of the most stimulating I took during my entire degree).

I recently reread the text and felt like posting about it here.

First off, I think it's a fascinating book. It's made up of four chapters (The Orator in Roman Society, Channels of Communication, The Practising Orator and finally The Orator's Education) which are bookended by a short introduction and conclusion. It lacks a glossary which may have been helpful, but the bibliography is useful and the index too. All in all it comes in at a very readable 87 pages.

The introduction is fine and really just defines the focus of the work, and it's chapter one where things first get interesting. The Orator in Roman Society is not so much a discussion of the individual but rather how an individual orator would have opportunity to use that particular skill in public life. There is considerable focus on real examples of opportunities where oratory was employed (contional meetings being the focus) and the chapter functions mostly as a summary which raises questions over the opportunities and nature of oratory and also it's relation to written forms of the speech.

Channels of Communication, chapter two, is a bit meatier. Steel discusses the way in oratory was manifest, primarily in the speech itself and also in written form. It's an intensely complicated relationship, and she does well to explain it. The point is made that the written forms which we now have that testify to the actual spoken version are, by definition, somewhat secondary and as such some difficult questions are posed about our entire understanding of oratory. Oratory, for Steel, is a phenomenon dominated by actual speeches, when perhaps oratory on the page, so to speak, is as important. Either way, the complex relationship and modes of communication an orator can employ are highlighted with skill and understanding.

Chapter three, The Practising Orator, discusses the behaviour of a Roman orator, the career trajectory of orators (young men would prosecute to attain some status, but it was seen a vulgar pursuit for experienced men, for example), and also how the practising orator could use his skill within public life, both as a tool to support friends but also attack enemies. Overall it's an interesting chapter, but lacks the spark of chapter two (I would suppose that chapter two constitutes the area of Steel's strongest personal interest, but I can't be sure).

The final chapter, The Orator's Education, is perhaps the weakest in the book. It's not poorly constructed, but there is just nothing new here. I do however applaud her decision to put this chapter last rather than earlier, which she explains by saying:

"...in the wider context of an attempt to understand the nature of oratorical training in the Roman world it makes sense to move from the the practising orator back to the the embryonic form, since the expectations and norms imposed on the full fledged orator are the foundations which support the system of oratorical education",

It may seem like a rather obvious idea once thought about, but it took great consideration to begin with, I'm sure, and it makes much sense to me.

The conclusion sums up a little, explaining the cover illustration (which I always like books to do, if needed) and makes the statement that oratory is a mode by which we can understand the Romans and their relation to their state in a public and private way, and that at it's greatest it allows us to understand, to put it simply, Romans, Rome and the occasions in which men spoke there.

Overall, it's a text I like very much. It's perhaps lacking innovation in some chapters, but it's solid and chapter two is superb. Questions are raised and answered (or at worst discussed in some depth) and it function as a superb post-introductory but perhaps pre-expert text on the topic.

Several things interested me that I should also like to mention. Firstly, the discussion of how Cicero inverts the commonly held belief that looks are related to moral worth in his speech against Piso by saying that he's all the more deplorable because he does look healthy and Roman is immensely interesting. It demonstrates not only Cicero's oratorical skill, but it's a very neat trick.

Secondly, the related discussion of an orator's style being related to his character is fascinating, i.e. that a feeble orator had a feeble character. I suppose it's something which carries on until today, but like the looks/moral worth belief it was much more potent in Rome than today.

Finally, when reading about panegyric, it struck me whether there is any mileage in considering"On The Command of Pompey" by Cicero as a sort of proto-panegyric. It seems to me that several elements are comparable to later panegyric - firstly Cicero is working out a way in which to communicate with his social betters, in a manner which makes them look good but also, by extension, helps his own career. Secondly, "On The Command" chronicles the central importance of Pompey to the state and it's continued prosperity, as does panegyric for the Emperor.

To be the idea seems worth considering at the very least, and it certainly casts an interesting light on the development of oratory from the Republic into the Empire. Some research into the notion leads me to find (unsurprisingly!) that I'm not the first to consider it and this link to Mary Whitby's "The Propaganda of Power" has some interesting points on the idea: here.

I'm not dead...

2010-01-21T22:27:00.002+01:00

...just busy.

I've been extremely busy recently, but never fear for I've still been musing over ancient history each day (only without boring all and sunder with it).

I'll hopefully get something up in the next few days.

I've just finished reading Catherine Steel's "Roman Oratory", which I think it a compact and great little text and I have several thoughts about it. I studied under Professor Steel in Glasgow and I enjoyed both her lectures and seminars greatly, in fact I'd say he seminars were the best I experienced in my time at University. That aside, she's an authority on Roman oratory, and her work is well worth reading.

I've also just started Plutarch's Moralia in an older Penguin edition by Rex Warner. He's great, so I'm looking forward to it.

That's all for now.

Some Thoughts On Tony Perrottet's "Route 66 A.D".

2010-01-06T21:20:00.004+01:00

Route 66 A.D is a pop-classical history book that (I must confess) I pretty much adore. I first picked it up when I was studying at University and it set me on a path towards being a classics buff (so to speak) that I've been on ever since.

Loosely, the book is a travel diary that follows Tony Perrottet as he covers the ancient route of the world's first tourists - 1st century A.D Romans - rich, aristocratic, with time to spare following the relegation of the Senate (of sorts) and desperate to see the highlights of their sprawling Empire, from Sparta to Athens, Troy to Egypt.

Intermixed with his anecdotes of Roman travel, he tells wry tales of his own experiences in Rome, Naples, Alexandria and more. This mix makes for some interesting and and funny parallels of the experience gap of two travellers over some 2000 years.

The book opens up with Perrottet describing the revealing of a world map (one of the first!) created under the patronage of Marcus Agrippa, and Perrottet does an excellent job of setting the scene and putting the reader in the sandals of an ancient traveller - the parallel between the two is a central theme of the entire book. Perrottet invests considerable energy drawing it.

He speaks of Roman tourists visiting Troy being like Irish-Americans visiting rural Ireland, The Knidian Aphrodite as the Playboy shoots of Marilyn Monroe that retain special status above all later imitations, the story of the Greeks defeating the Persians retold to Roman children as a proto Star Wars. The list goes on.

The narrative is thick with anecdotes of Roman travellers from nameless aristocrats to famous orators like Aristides and Hellenophiles such as Nero and Hadrian. A significant amount of research want into bringing the story to life - and the central wonder of the book is that one can truly imagine doing the ancient tourist trail in the 1st century A.D, and that functions to the greater good as it helps one get inside the head of an ancient Roman.

The book has a few factual errors, and some problems with generalisations, although I should say that Perrottet admits it's not meant to be a scholarly work. First off, he says that most ancients could be considered generally "bi-sexual" which is a bit of a generalisation - the male/male relationships of Greece are complex and difficult to categorise by modern standards, and the Romans were notoriously against homosexual relationships.

Secondly he has the location of the Subura in Rome to be South of the Aventine Hill, when it's actually located N.E of that Hill and not especially in proximity to it. Thirdly he has Ovid as recommending the Colosseum, when Ovid was in fact dead well before it's construction.

Finally (there are a few more, but I won't mention them) he anachronistically uses the term Viceroy to refer to Roman pro-consuls quite frequently, which perhaps reflects the age and heritage of texts he used for study - viceroy is a misleading term and while one could roughly equate the job description of a pro-consul to a British viceroy, it doesn't quite work.

These can be easily forgiven, though, considering it's a pop-classic history book and not intended as a scholarly work.

Following a Herodotean wonderment of the East, the characters become stranger the further East we go, and to be really quite honest the personal narrative of Perrottet's journey becomes less interesting for me, and I've entertained the possibility that some of it is made up for purpose of the story, or to further the Roman/modern traveller parallels (again that move has a Herodotean flavour to it).

The book ends with a list of short biographies which is useful and and contains a fair number of names. Likewise the bibliography is quite good and contains a list of interesting scholarly texts, although several of them are now quite old.

Overall, it's a great book. It has a lust for anecdotes and colourful history that makes it so highly readable. It's greatest triumph is the establishment of the parallels between ancient travellers and modern ones. The upshot is that it seems the tourist experience has changed little over 2000 years (although that's possibly a result of squeezing the two narratives into parallel stories). I recommend reading the book for it's light hearted approach and thickness of stories.

The Wire and Greek Mythology (II).

2009-12-29T19:27:00.001+01:00

Researching the topic of my last post, I stumbled across this really interesting article in the New Yorker (link) where the creator of The Wire, David Simon, mentions how the show is:

"ripped off [from] the Greeks: Sophocles, Aeschylus, Euripides. Not funny boy—not Aristophanes. We’ve basically taken the idea of Greek tragedy and applied it to the modern city-state.” He went on, “What we were trying to do was take the notion of Greek tragedy, of fated and doomed people, and instead of these Olympian gods, indifferent, venal, selfish, hurling lightning bolts and hitting people in the ass for no reason—instead of those guys whipping it on Oedipus or Achilles, it’s the postmodern institutions . . . those are the indifferent gods.”

That's a really wonderful observation. It's not strictly linked to what I was saying below, but it's just as interesting. Greek tragedy has an immense resonance, and The Wire does too.

Interestingly, Omar Little seems to be utterly outside this system. He's something like a Robin Hood character, and I wonder if Simon is trying to paint Omar as the only character that can really survive in the modern city-state - he is subservient to no system, yet he is hardly depicted as a "good guy".

The Greek parallels continue as Omar is gay, and in the first season his younger male lover is murdered (a modern parallel of Alexander?) and the central antagonist of the second season is known simply as "The Greek".

The sheer depth to this show is quite amazing. It's difficult to entirely digest. I'll keep posting with further classically related thoughts as I work my way through the seasons, with something more in depth once I'm all finished.

The Wire and Greek Mythology.

2009-12-29T14:55:00.005+01:00

I've been watching the rather superb HBO show The Wire recently (I'll spare you the pretty normal superlatives here and just say that it's great) and another (I'll admit) strange classical connection came to light.

In a scene with Omar Little (an almost supernatural character played by the pretty much amazing Michael K. Williams), a stick-up bandit with a code (a really superficial summary for the depth his character has) he's sitting across from a cop who's doing a crossword puzzle (or other word game) when said officer of the law starts asking (partly to himself) "Greek God of War....????".

Mars is the officers first guess, but Omar corrects him and says Mars was the Roman God of War but the Greek was Aries, explaining that they're the same dude but with different names.

Now Omar is far from stupid (in actual fact he's sharp as a tack) but he comes from an urban culture with little focus on such learning, and so I was a little surprised when he came out with it.

I did some research into the scene (it's in the season two episode "All Prologue) and the creator of the show, David Simon, claims in his book "The Corner: A year in the life of an inner-city neighbourhood" on page 283 that in his experience many children in the schools of Baltimore will pay little attention to most of what they are taught in schools, but they pay particular attention and appreciation to Greek mythology.

For me, that's a pretty interesting notion. Kids from the urban areas of an inner-city area with one of the highest murder and crime rates in the U.S love Greek mythology but care little for most of what's on offer at school. I wonder why?

Perhaps there is something fantastic about the Greek gods that appeals to them (as opposed to their - perhaps - harsh daily lives). Maybe the idea that Gods interfere with our lives gives them some hope that theirs can be changed, or maybe they just like the fun (or gory!) stories. It's hard to say.

Either way, I'm deeply fascinated by why this is the case. Any further musings will be posted here. In the meantime, like almost everyone else, I recommend watching The Wire. It's really as good as everyone says.

A Pretty Woman and The Pantheon.

2009-12-27T16:31:00.004+01:00

So, I've just spent four days with my girlfriend's family celebrating Christmas (Czech style - because she is/they are/I live in - Czech).

Now, with that bombshell you may be wondering where the "classics angle" is, and right you would be. Well, rather bizarrely, it's from Pretty Woman - that bastion of womanly cinema.

Sometime on Saturday evening, after three days of being force fed like a goose (although I'll put good money on my liver tasting nowhere near as good as a similarly treated goose), I was watching Pretty Woman (dubbed in Czech, like all broadcasts on Czech TV) and low and behold there was the Pantheon.

Richard Gere was coolly discussing something (my Czech is average, at best and I cannot recall the English version)in a very late 80s/early 90s executive meeting room that was adorned with pictures/painting/drawings all from the classical world.

There was the Pantheon and what seemed like some assorted sketches of (what looked like) the Parthenon Frieze and another which was pretty unclear. Altogether quite bizarre.

The classical connection can be found in so many places it's enough to make one's head melt (with wonder!) but I never expected to find it sitting in the provincial Czech Republic watching Pretty Woman dubbed into Czech. Still, though, it was nice.

Edit: I've been trying to find a still showing the pictures, but I can't seem to. You'll just have to believe me.

An Integrated History of the Ancient Mediterranean - A lecture series by Robert Garland (Part Four).

2009-12-23T10:38:00.003+01:00

First of all, sorry for the lack of updates. I'm just terribly busy. I suppose that's a familiar story for most people around the holidays.

Nevertheless, I've finished Garland's lecture series and this post is about the final section (lectures 30-36) which cover the growth of Christianity and how the Roman Empire dealt with both it and Judaism.

In many respects the final section chronicles the dissolution of the integrated culture Garland is at pains to emphasise. Rome becomes less and less the focal point of the Empire, and eventually the capital is moved East to Constantinople and the Empire eventually splits into a Latin speaking West and a Greek speaking East.

The greatest strength of this chunk of lectures is that Garland illustrates perfectly the cultural milieu that Christianity originated out of - the complexity of the relationship between the monotheistic Jews/Christians and the polytheistic Romans; the deep relationship early Christianity had with Greek philosophy and much more.

In some respects, then, Christianity is the ultimate synthesis of Greek and Roman culture and is essentially the poster boy for Garland's series of lectures. Christianity took the intellectual ideas of the Greeks (their great strength) and was propagated under the rule of the Roman Emperors (ruling, after all, was the Roman's job).

The final lectures cover the "fall" of the Roman Empire, but Garland, sensibly I think, stresses that "fall" is the wrong word and that Gibbon's famous work "Decline and Fall" speaks more to his particular ideas than what actually happened. Garland urges us to consider it much more of a "change and upheaval" and a gradual process.

Nevertheless, the Roman Empire, as it existed in the reign of Augustus and his successors, did cease to exist and the cultural legacy of Rome would move eastwards (to the Greek speaking world, somewhat ironically) and endure for another millennia.

I was rather sad as the lectures finished. I think they're really rather superb. Garland argues consistently and eloquently for an understanding of an integrated culture and he chronicles how it arose, flourished and how it all panned out over the 36 lectures - no mean feat. It's an interesting angle to take and I think it's thoroughly worthwhile.

Studying either Greece or Rome in isolation misses something essential about both cultures and Garland has remedied that in these lectures. For providing a different perspective, I've found it invaluable. I recommend them heartily!

On an unrelated note, the Saturnalia is coming up (a forerunner of Christmas?) and so Merry Saturnalia to all!

An Integrated History of the Ancient Mediterranean - A lecture series by Robert Garland (Part Three).

2009-12-11T17:01:00.005+01:00

I've been listening to Garland once again (I'm now finished the entire lecture series, but I plan to post about it in four parts, as they are broken down by Garland in the opening lecture).

The last section covers the full birth of Greco-Roman culture following the reign of Augustus and covers the whole spectrum of literature (Epic, tragedy, comedy, satire, history, the novel and more) as well as art, science technology and architecture.

All in all it's another fascinating series of lectures. Taken as a thematically related group, the lectures of literature are incredibly interesting - Garland outlines the origin of a particular genre, take Epic for example, and discusses how it evolves over time and is hugely important in the development of an integrated Mediterranean culture.

Epic, being one of the prime examples, has it's origin with Homer's Iliad - a tale which is very much at the root of the Greek character and is almost handed over to Rome as part of Greece's heavy cultural legacy. Rome appropriated the style and in Vergil found an artist skilful enough to take the art form and make it Roman (as Roman as it could be - maybe Greco-Roman is a better term!).

The same goes for the other genres. Garland managed to highlight the intricate links each has to Greece and Rome and how it's evolution over time into it's latter incarnation is very much illustrative of an integrated culture.

Garland is at pains to show the differences between Greeks and Romans and simultaneously how they formed such an interconnected and integrated culture (it's a paradox truly difficult to explain), and I found his discussion of architecture and science most interesting on this topic.

He mentions how the Greeks had an overwhelming focus on temples and religious areas, and their predisposition was to private spaces, while the Romans were quite the opposite and invested great energy into public spaces. I'm not sure how much I buy into this notion (the Greeks built many public areas too) but he argues convincingly regarding how the Greeks and the Romans conceived very differently of how to build a temple.

Science-wise, Garland makes the interesting point that the Greeks were the intellectual and speculative scientists while the Romans were much more practical - and that division seems to lie at the heart of how we depict the two cultures right up until today. The Romans' business was ruling the world, as it's put, while the Greeks could concern themselves with science.

Garland's lecture on science was actually one of the most useful to me. He highlighted the fact that our modern concept of science totally fails to work in the ancient world, and instead all was philosophy - or rather intellectual enquiry. There were no specifically defined disciplines like we have today. Garland manages to highlight the various cultural differences that make it difficult for us to understand the ancients - this is one such difference and how they conceived of work, another. I think he's to be appreciated for that.

Somewhat related is his nice habit of using modern phrases or terms to explain a certain quotation of situation he's describing. He'll often put something in the vernacular for us, so to speak.

On the flip side, he rarely references modern culture in relation to Greco-Roman culture, bar on a few occasions (he speaks of Harold Pinter in the philosophy lecture, which I enjoyed) and in some respects I think that it's missing. It may reflect simply my age/taste, but I'd like more of such things nonetheless.

Finally, the strength of the series remains in Garland's ability to expose the sheer amount of connections and interconnections between Greece and Rome (they truly are legion) and this part of the series illustrates that well. Coming out of these lectures, I was acutely aware of the cultural heritage passed not only through Greece to Rome but also to us and how it's not as simple as A-B-C but much more akin to evolution in it's slow ebb and flow.

I'll be posting about the last chunk of lectures soon. The topic for them is the rise of Christianity and the eventual splitting of the Empire into East and West.

A New Blog...

2009-12-09T20:15:00.003+01:00

I've started writing a new blog as a somewhat lighter companion to this one.

Link here: http://ancientmeddaily.blogspot.com/.

The purpose of the blog is for me to write a bit of light entertainment in the form of news reports from the Ancient World. Essentially, I'm pretending the modern media was present in antiquity and writing reports in that style.

The new blog requires no real preparation, unlike this one, so it's not meant to be taken quite so seriously.

I'm aware it's probably nothing original, but I hope they'll be somewhat fun. I've certainly enjoyed writing the few I've done so far:

Early reports from Cannae!

Caesar spotted marching towards Italy!?

Residents of Pompeii outraged at Google streetview!

I hope anyone who reads them will find them light and entertaining.

Medicine (Part II).

2009-12-05T12:57:00.004+01:00

As I mentioned in my post about Bad Science and Quackery (here), I have some more material on the topic that I want to write about. This post is for that purpose.

It's been a few weeks now since I finished Goldacre's book, and I still think about it quite frequently. I had it in mind quite a bit while I was reading Perrottet's Route 66 A.D and while listening to Garland on the topic of science and medicine.

From both sources, it struck me how our term "quack" really doesn't apply to the ancient world. Medicine for the ancients was a mix of the rational and the irrational, and they were very comfortable with that. They were terribly superstitious people, and our modern notion of there being "real" doctors and "quack" doctors simply does not apply. A doctor could, at once, use a rational technique but then recommend an offering to the gods or some other remedy that, to us at least, would seem like quackery. The great Galen himself practised medicine in this manner.

This is brought very much to the fore in Route 66 A.D when Perrottet discusses the Empire famous orator Aristides, who, by all accounts, was a perennial hypochondriac. He spent much of his life attempting to cure his sickness(es), with little success. He would follow the instructions of Asclepius from his dreams and often journey to famous health spas all over the Empire.

These resorts, such as the famous one at Pergamum - home of Galen, would promote both rational medicine and non-rational, side by side, for both could help. It seems to me now that to consider some of them quacks, one needs to apply modern standard and that seems unfair.

Another thing that occurred to me was that medicine was a service industry - those who did it provided a service for a fee, and so it seems reasonable to me that some of these people were surely offering bogus medical advice in an attempt to swindle the genuinely sick.

Given the Greek's penchant for service industries during the Empire, and the tradition of the Greeks being learned, they constituted most of the doctors, especially the famous ones. As in many aspects of the Greek/Roman relationship the latter distrusted the former and considered them somehow dishonest. Cato the Elder, not especially a fan of the Greeks, was worried they were killing their patients, and recommends that a sick Roman stick to the wonder cure that is cabbage and avoids sneaky Greek doctors.

All in all, then, quackery is not an especially useful term when applied to the ancient world. What we would consider quackery was practised side by side with more "rational " medicine and the ancients would use both if they helped. That said, it goes without saying that there were some doctors who were peddling wonder cures for big bucks, and in that respect the ancient world certainly would have had it's fair share of dubious doctors selling wonderful potions, much like many "nutritionists" today.

You would think that we, today, would be able to discern much more clearly real medicine from money-spinning wonder cures, but I suppose, like the ancients, many folks will believe almost anything that a "doctor" tells them in the hope that it may help. Sadly many people, it seems, are happy following the Aristides model of following dubious medical advice with great gusto, despite the fact that it doesn't really help.

Finally, something which Garland mentions which brings this all into perspective is that the overwhelming amount of people in the ancient world would have no access whatsoever to medicine, rational or quackery, and so the question hanging over whether ancient quacks were swindling people is a bit of a misnomer - for to be sold a fake medicine one must first have access to a "doctor", which most people simply did not have.

Sine labore non erit panis in ore...

2009-12-01T21:35:00.003+01:00

I'm a bit busy with work at the moment - ensuring I have bread in my mouth, so to speak!

I'll be posting as soon as possible, and I already have the topics floating around in my (in all honestly) larger than average noggin (size, not intelligence!).

They include:

Part Deux RE: Medicine and Quacks in the ancient world with some material from Garland and Perrottet.

The next chunk of my series covering Garland's lectures.

Finally, a post directly on Route 66 A.D. A book I'm admiring through different eyes in my most current read through.

That's it I reckon. I'm off to devour some hard earned bread.

The (not) Backwaters of the Empire.

2009-11-25T10:33:00.003+01:00

I was reading the most recent issue of Minerva on one of my cross-city tram journeys this week, and I came across an article I found rather interesting (many actually, but this one especially). It's written by Murray Eiland on the topic of "The Romans In Croatia".

The main focus of the article is, obviously, how Roman culture was present in Croatia, and to what extent it was influenced by Roman fashions (to quite some extent) over time. Eiland argues that Croatia is home to a wealth of Roman history, and most certainly not a backwater of the Empire.

As home to the Emperor Diocletian, it is most associated with Roman history as the home of his "retirement" Palace (an enormous building, fascinating for it's touches of militaristic architecture and design), but Eiland also discusses a wealth of statuary from Roman Croatia that has been discovered.

Members of the Imperial Family have turned up - in Augustan poses, which I think shows how the hellenistically inspired ruler cult of Augustus was spreading throughout the Empire. A number of more local busts and statues have also been discovered - many of them reflecting the fashions of the time - the realism/naturalism of the Flavian period and the classical idealism of the Augustan era, being two of the most obvious examples.

The upshot of all this is that Croatia was hardly a backwater of the Empire - and despite being most famous as the home of Diocletian - it has a deep and complex history during Roman times which is reflected in the sheer amount of archaeological discoveries.

From my own point of view, I sometimes have to resist the urge to have a Rome-centric view of the Empire, and articles such as this one remind my that other parts of it were so fully integrated into Roman culture that they deserve great attention too. I'd now love to visit Diocletian's Palace and see it for myself (this link to a site containing virtual tours of the Palace is awesome: http://www.burger.si/Croatia/Split/seznam.html).

I believe the tacit notion behind Eiland's article is that many sites of the classical world are perhaps "off the beaten track" a little because they are not the glamorous centres of the Empire, but they're still very much worth visiting and they have so much to tell us about Roman life outside of Rome.

Bothersome Barbarians.

2009-11-21T10:19:00.003+01:00

This (short) post partly ties in my my Scottish holiday posts (1,2), and with me being Scottish, I was naturally interested any way.

I was reading in the Scotsman that in Scotland they have found the remnants of more army camps than in any other part of the Empire. The number ranges around 225, compared to 30 in other comparable "edge of the Empire sites" (one of them, funnily enough, where I live now in the Czech Republic).

The theory (simple, but likely) is that the Romans drove into Caledonia (ancient Scotland) with great gusto in an attempt to subdue the native peoples, but it never really worked, ergo all the camps scattered over the country.

The story has another element (poorly discussed in the comments below the Scotsman story), in that Historic Scotland wants to survey the whole country in search of Roman camps and put them all under protection. Some folks believe the rubbish of a Roman marching camp should not stand in the way of development.

They're wrong. After all, Egyptian rubbish dumps have provided us with a lot, have they not?

Another dimension to proceedings is that Historic Scotland may be trying to "package" Scotland's Roman artefacts/sites as tourist-worthy, which may indeed be true. It'd be nice to think sites of archaeological interest would be explored for their own sake, but tourism is the worlds biggest industry, and cash trumps all.

Disregarding all that, though, I think a sustained effort to catalogue all of Scotland's Roman sites is a positive thing. Not only is there the chance that some wonderful discovery may be made, but in considering all of the sites together, they may tell us a story about Roman Scotland that we don't yet know, and that has to be worthwhile.

Rome's (concise) Blue Guide.

2009-11-20T11:21:00.006+01:00

Following my post on Rome's Blue Guide, those nice folks from Somerset Books (who publish the Blue Guides) sent me a copy of the brand new concise Blue Guide to Rome.

Generally, I love the Blue Guides - nothing comes close for the tourist who desires a "cultural" guide. My old (and not especially travel-handy) guide to Rome has had such heavy use that it's all held together by sticky tape - yet it's a testament to it's quality that it holds up ever strong, despite the beating it's taken.

First impressions of the new concise guide were very positive. The most noticeable thing is the reduction in size (it is, after all, a concise guide), to much more handy dimensions and weight. Although it was no real chore to crack out the weightier bigger brother of the concise guide - the new one will be much easier to use when "on site" in Rome.

The quality of the production is the next thing that jumps out at you. The cover is sturdy, tactile and pleasing to the touch. The pages remain glossy and smooth ones used in all Blue Guides, and the printing on them is clear and easy to read.

The contents of the guide are, as they back cover says, a "distilled" version of the full guide, which is essentially true - all the most important places to visit are included, while some of the periphery sites (maybe an unfair term) are not present.

The organisation follows a similar pattern to the full guide - in discussing a geographical area and everything of interest in it, followed by the next, adjacent, part of the city. For me it's the best and only way to organise the content - because it allows one to find a particular area of the city and see everything of interest within it.

The introduction is brief and omits much of the information found in the full guide, but that's really no problem for a concise guide. The biggest chunk is taken up by a historical sketch of the city, which is a newer version than that included in the full guide. There is little difference between the two - save length, and in my opinion both are well written and informative.

As mentioned in my previous post, the full guide is a little outdated now (primarily because of the new entrance procedures to the Forum Romanum, Colosseum and Palatine Hill). The new concise guide has all of this updated - which is essential in my opinion because the new procedure is quite different, and requires a bit of planning to pull off successfully (avoiding queues, busy periods etc).

The section of the guide on the Forum and it's surroundings is as excellent as before, but it is bolstered by the addition of several small colourful images which help break up the written descriptions a little. This applies also to the sections covering Ostia and the Via Appia - wonderful photographs add much to the guide.

I was also very happy to see that the EUR has now been incorporated into the main body of the guide. I know it may not be an especially aesthetically pleasing area, but it is aesthetically interesting and the Square Colosseum and the Museum of Roman Civilisation are especially fascinating (not least for the enormous model of Rome in the 4th Century).

One of the most useful new features is that each section has a little box featuring places to eat. It's brief, but a very nice addition, and conforms to the guides aim of being useful "on site".

Overall, then, the concise guide is just as excellent as it's bigger relation, and by my reckoning, it's still the only guide you really need. It's excellently written (by Alta Macadam) and the quality of the book's production itself is second to none.

The new size means that it somewhat supersedes the bigger version as THE guide to take on a trip to Rome. My personal plan is to take both and have the concise version "on site" and the larger version in the hotel room - having every cultural angle covered, so to speak.

As the new concise guide answers all my (admittedly minor) criticisms of the full guide, I must concede that I can find no real fault with it. Obviously it lacks the depth of the bigger version, but that's it's intention and can hardly be considered in a bad light. The price is also exceptionally fair, and I can offer no real complaints of any form.

My recommendation: If you're going to Rome - take it!

Note: Many thanks to Mr Tom Howells from the publishers of the Blue Guides for being so generous in providing me with a copy - I will be using it extensively on my next visit.

Here's a picture of my well thumbed full guide and the new concise guide, so that you may see the size difference:

An Integrated History of the Ancient Mediterranean - A lecture series by Robert Garland (Part Two).

2009-11-19T14:40:00.002+01:00

During my Scottish sojourn I managed to listen to the next chunk of my Robert Garland lecture series (lectures 12-19, although personally I think 20 should be included too), which focus on the consequences of Roman hegemony over Greece for both cultures, and ergo that's what I'm going to ramble on about today.

Like I mentioned in a post below, I lost my notes for this post on a Prague to Paris flight, so it will be somewhat briefer than I had initially envisaged.

In many respects this part of the series is where it all really get's going - the entire premise can finally be fully discussed. The lectures preceding number 12 take a very wide view of Greek and Roman history (linking them together almost from the off), leading right up until the Roman conquest but this, though, naturally precludes the period of full blown Philhellenism that comes after said occupation. This is where an understanding of Greco-Roman culture can really begin, I think.

Garland covers a range of topics, starting with philhellenism and hellenophobia (literally love for all thinks Greek and fear of those things), before covering the two languages, leisure, sex, religion, Greeks in Rome and Romans in Greece and the Hellenism of Augustus.

Like the previous lectures, Garland retains a depth of analysis and thickness of research that makes for wonderful listening. I especially liked his discussion of various concepts such as "leisure" and "work" and how they differed between Greece and Rome, but also how the very nature of the words in their respective languages mean very different things than they do to us today. It really allows one to get "inside the head" of a Roman or Greek, and that's no mean feat.

The topical nature of each lecture gives a really great overview of Rome and Greece as now integrated cultures, and how they influenced each other in quite profound ways. That said, one of the central thrusts of the lectures is that despite their history being integrated, they are vastly different. The typical flow of each lecture discusses how it's topic relates to Greece and how it then relates to Rome, and the passing of cultural information between them.

In some respects I think the term "Greco-Roman" undermines the idea of an entirely integrated history, for it has a clear division within it.

For me the best lecture in the series is the final one (that I've added to this chunk of lectures myself, although I don't recall that Garland does) on the Hellenism of Augustus. Garland argues that Augustus (when he took that moniker) "ruled" in a manner very similar to the Greek dynasts of the past, insomuch as he needed Greek models for his autocracy (the Romans had none), and he copied Greek forms of artistic representation (the Augustus Prima Porta is a far cry from the somewhat weedy, spotty Augustus we hear of).

In this way, Augustus was the full genesis of Hellenism - he took Greek ideas and Romanised them (or vice versa - how the cultures interacted truly is rather complex), and from his reign forward, I think it's fair to really consider them integrated cultures rather than merely closely related.

To use Garland's terminology, those living under Augustus could be considered "Mediterranean Men" - that is to say "people with a shared vision and living under similar conditions". This notion is one that only really begins to make sense under the rule of Augustus and afterwards, and I think it certainly has a great deal of mileage.

These lectures, then, take us from the Roman conquest until a point where Greece and Rome are intricately connected as one entity (although with distinct parts, so to speak), and the form a central part of Garland's arguments - that the two cultures should be studied together, not in isolation. Thus far, I agree with him. The series has been incredibly interesting, and considering Rome and Greece together in the same story very worthwhile.

The next part of the series covers the full birth of Greco-Roman culture after the reign of Augustus, and I'll be posting about it in the future sometime.

Bad Science, Quackery and the Ancient World.

2009-11-17T11:04:00.004+01:00

During my jaunt to Scotland I picked up a copy of Ben Goldacre's Bad Science, which I thoroughly recommend. The book attacks pseudo-science, and the practitioners of it (although not with any malice), and midway through he says "there have always been health gurus selling magic potions", and I thought - without doubt, the classical world was full of them.

From Pliny through Martial, excerpts from the Greek Anthology and Quintus Gagilius Martialis (and maybe Plutarch, but despite the prevalence of a certain quote on the internet, I can find no reference for it - any help would be appreciated), we hear of so called quacks plying their trade.

Given the unprofessional nature of ancient medicine (becoming a doctor was as simple as calling yourself one), it goes without saying that there were a fair share of opportunists around. Potions and miracle cures were all around - no doubt at great expense.

Goldacre's book makes the point that people are often duped by "professionals" who are indeed unqualified, money-grabbing quacks (he mentions many, many in his book). If it's this easy in the modern world - how easy was it in the ancient one? It must have been a piece of cake to sell some distinctive tasting water and label it a miracle cure.

Like many "educated" professions, a large number of the practitioners in the Roman world were Greeks. I wonder if the public distrust of doctors we hear about can be conflated with the general distrust of Greeks (even if they bring gifts etc)? I think it's possible.

Ancient medicine was not, of course, all quackery. Some of it's practitioners would be doing ground breaking work, and care deeply about the welfare of their patients - but that positive aspect is not my focus here.

I just wonder how many people died in the classical world as a result of quackery, because it seems the numbers that still do today are astonishingly high. All in all, it seems people haven't changed that much - some of them are still peddling their wares on the desperate and needy.

I apologise for the brevity of this post. I have some more material, so I'm sure there will be a Part Deux sometime.

Back from Caledonia.

2009-11-16T12:38:00.003+01:00

Late last night I arrived back here in Pilsen, CZ, after my whirlwind trip back home to Scotland. Generally the "holiday" was all too short with too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Still, though, it was refreshing to see some familiar faces and visit a country which speaks my native tongue.

More related to this blog, though, I managed to get reacquainted with my long lost book collection. Weight restrictions (most cheap(er) airlines only have a 15KG base limit now) meant I couldn't bring too much, but I managed to get back with a reasonable number.

Like I mentioned below, Cicero was packed in, but Gruen, alas!, had to be left. I also managed to bring Route 66.A.D, which I'll be re-reading for the umpteenth time and posting about in the near future.

Access to a large British book store also allowed me to pick up a copy of Minerva, which has a whole wealth of things I found interesting and will consider posting about. That very same book store also provided me with a copy of a rather fascinating book on bad science, which is utterly brilliant, and has inspired me to make a post linking some of the points within it to the classical world.

The travelling (one week, four planes, four trains, endless car journeys and a tonne of walking) also allowed me to listen to some more of Robert Garland's lecture series about Greco-Roman culture, and I'm about ready to make post part II on it. It won't be as long as I had originally thought because I, rather stupidly, left my notes on the plane from Prague to Paris and don't have time to re-listen to jot them down again.

All in all, a pretty good break, which has refreshed my brain a little, and given me much to post about.

Caledonia My Patria.

2009-11-07T08:43:00.010+01:00

On Monday I'm heading back to Caledonia for a short holiday, just to check in with some family and friends. Ergo, I probably won't be able to post much over the next nine days or so.

One of my plans during my visit is to get in amongst my large collection of books and hunt out the classical authors I'd like to re-read, along with some other select texts.

I think Juvenal, Livy and Cicero are top of my list, and for more modern works I'd like to get my hands on Erich Gruen's Last Generation of the Roman Republic and a work on the Ancient Novel. I'll no doubt think of others once I'm there, but these are the ones up there at the moment.

My plan will be to post about these particular works once I'm back and have managed to settle down and read them. I'm especially excited about Cicero, because I've not read too much of him recently.

The frontier of the Empire, here I come.

Also, for a bit of flavour, here's a picture of me beside Hadrian's Wall taken last year when I made a quick, lonely rain sodden visit:

...Where they make a desert, they call it peace.

2009-11-06T17:37:00.004+01:00

This quote from Tacitus' Agricola is one of my favourites from the whole classical corpus.

I suppose the reason is two fold. Firstly, Tacitus is rallying against the nature of Empire - greed begot by violently enforced tyranny. He's a deeply Republican man, and one of the main themes of the Agricola is a defence of how a man can still be a noble servant to his country even under despotic rulers (in this case Domitian). The idea that the Romans would militarily crush their opposition and then call it "peace" (Pax) never registered as righteous with Tacitus.

Is it truly peace if it only exists because of an oppression carried out by the military? Probably not, thinks Tacitus (and me!).

The second reason I adore the quote is that it is more complex that it initially seems. Our word "peace" has it's roots in the Latin word "pacificare", which means to make peace or to pacify. Now the notion of "peace" and "pacification" are quite different, and what the Romans called "peace" is vastly different to our more modern conception.

For them, "peace" was something that was achieved under the boot of the Roman military, and so this is the idea that Tacitus is against. He's making a mockery of the Roman notion of "peace" and how they concieve of it.

All in all, it's a wonderful quote, and like many such words from Tacitus is highly relevant now (this is as much reading into him as what he actually says), because it also applies, to an extent, to American foreign policy since the 2nd World War. The current military operations in Iraq are dubbed "Operation Freedom", and one must ask, if we decontruct the notion of "freedom" is it being used in a similar manner to the Roman's "peace"? Is it truly freedom, or just how the powerful define it? "The Empire Never Ended" to quote Philip K. Dick.

As ever, the ancients are as vital to understanding ourselves and the modern world. Tacitus especially is almost a rent-a-quote for those of us a little distraught at the state of the world, but it's absolutely essential to remember who he was - a member of the Roman elite rather peeved that his class could no longer rule their Empire - and never to imagine him as the proto-"liberal" commentator that he never can be.

Come On You Blues! (CYOB!).

2009-11-05T20:03:00.003+01:00

I'm a passionate football supporter, specifically of Everton F.C. The shout in the title of the post CYOB! is often heard at Goodison Park, as a call to arms (as such) to egg the team on.

Not terribly related to the classics, you may say, but actually it's not far off. I was listening to Robert Garland's audio lecture series (which I've posted about below) on the topic of Leisure and Entertainment and he mentions chariot racing, and specifically how the participants were identified by certain colours (teams, essentially) - red, white, green and blue (although Tertullian tells us the red and white teams were the originals).

I was familiar with this aspect of entertainment (I recall reading somewhere that Claudius was a fan of the blues), but it had particular resonance with me today as Garland mentions how divisive the races could be, as the fans of each team would engage in goading their rivals, often until the point of violence.

He talks about the Nika Riots, estimating that perhaps 30,000 people died and the Empire nearly collapsed - all because of chariot racing. The kind of loyalty required to a sport and a team required to kick off such an enormous barney reminded me of the sport that I adore so much - football.

The reds and the whites, as the oldest teams, had a great rivalry. I wonder if it was similar to the rivalry between Everton and Liverpool? The Liverpool city rivalry is enormous, yet the identity of being Liverpudlian pulls especially strongly, and so they often call it the family derby, as despite the rivalry, often a single family could be half blue and half red - the same but different. Would a red supporter look across at his white counterpart and identify with their shared Roman-ness, but still feel that intense rivalry burning inside of them? I think it's entirely possible.

I recall reading that the blues and the greens were the teams supported by the Emperors, and so I also wonder if the support for the various teams was dependent on social status or geography, like modern football. It's often said, for example, that the fans of teams in the North of England are more working class (Everton, Blackburn and Bolton etc), while some of the London teams are the reserve of middle and upper classes (Chelsea,Tottenham and Arsenal). It seems plausible, and is another way in which this form of ancient entertainment really as a parallel with modern society.

It was an especially interesting feeling to think that this was an aspect of ancient life that I could really tap into. The ancients (Romans especially) loved their entertainment, and chariot racing was right up there - just as football is in modern times. The passion involved and the die hard allegiance to your team are all concepts which I can understand as a football fan.

Actually, what struck me the most was the fact that if you placed an Everton fan beside a fan of the blue chariot racing team, would they be all that different in this specific situation? I think probably not. Given how the ancient seem so similar to us, but are in actual fact so different when it comes down to it, I think there is great appeal in the idea that humans are humans, regardless of society, era or other such things which separate us.

That the very same feelings stirred up in an ancient Roman chariot race spectator while cheering on his team can be comparable to the ones I feel when I'm watching Everton is one aspect in which I feel I can have a real window into the classical world. It comes to life for me, and that's very powerful.

Classics: A Love Affair.

2009-10-31T14:44:00.004+01:00

This post is a bit soft, so I apologise in advance.

I love a bit of classics. The classics bug, so to speak, bit quite some time ago, but took absolute hold when I first read Tony Perrottet's Route 66.A.D - which is a bit of a travelogue through the ancient sites of the Mediterranean - West to East. There's such a lust for history and fable in Perrottet's book, that I was absolutely enthralled and mesmerised by everything the ancient world had to offer.

Since then, I've been studying classics academically and privately with great intensity.

In many respects this blog is an opportunity for me to express the many classics-related thoughts I have each day. There is always something from antiquity rumbling about in my head, and this blog has allowed me to get it out there, even if very few people actually read it.

I like almost everything aspect of ancient history - but I suppose Roman history is where my real passion lies, although I'm also pretty interested in Greece and everything related to it. The characters and these impossibly complex societies and cultures which existed have caught me in their snare.

To me, the Greeks and the Romans kick-started the modern (Western, at least) world, and I can't imagine any single aspect of that modern world which cannot be enlightened by a study of the ancient world which gave genesis to it. That's what keeps me coming back for more.

Many textbooks or scholarly works now begin with a justification of classics as a discipline, and in many respects that's quite a shame, because I think it needs no justification. That said, I realise not everyone has been bitten in the same way that I have been.

It's been said that only a human being can study the classics and love it, and with not a hint of pretension (OK, maybe a little!) I think that's quite true. I believe there is a reason the study of the ancient world was so important for so long for everyone, regardless of career. I'm not necessarily putting myself in that group, but I do feel hugely indebted to the classical world for the development of my character and ultimately how I define myself, both through it's achievements but also the things it got wrong.

Like I said a bit of a soft post, but one I felt like making. If anyone does read this, I'd very much like to hear why you love the classics so much.

An Integrated History of the Ancient Mediterranean - A lecture series by Robert Garland (Part One).

2009-10-30T12:17:00.005+01:00

A few weeks ago I got my hands on a series of audio lectures by Prof. Robert Garland via TTC (the teaching company) and I've been listening to them quite attentively as I go about my daily business (I travel around a fair bit, and they're on my cellphone's music player).

The name of the lecture series is Greece and Rome: An Integrated History of the Ancient Mediterranean and as the name suggests, the essential thrust of the course is to consider Rome and Greece (or Romans and Greeks) together, and not in isolation, as is perhaps common (he makes the simple yet valid point that most scholars of the ancient world consider themselves either Greek or Roman historians, and that should not be the case).

The course follows a loosely chronological path, but it is heavily affected by thematically driven discussion. Garland, in the first lecture, divides the course into 4 chunks, each following each other chronologically, give or take, but being distinct in matters of focus.

Lectures 1-11 cover general topics of life in the Mediterranean and the history of political interaction (and re-action) between Greece and Rome right up until Roman hegemony was established over the Greek speaking world in the 2nd Century B.C.E. Lectures 12-19 consider the repercussions of the Roman conquest and especially their relationship with one another, in cultural and political terms.

Lectures 20 - 29 cover the birth of what we refer to as Greco-Roman culture, taken from the reign of Augustus onwards and the final chunk of lectures, 30 -36, discuss how the Roman Empire dealt with the growth of Judaism and Christianity (two religions with great ties to Greece) and how the relationship between the Greeks and the Romans evolved during this period, until the Empire split into a Latin speaking West and Greek speaking East.

Thus far I've only listened to part one, and ergo that's all I'm talking about today.

Generally speaking, I've really enjoyed the lectures so far. Prof. Garland has such an obvious enthusiasm for the subject that it's infectious, and there is a didactic quality to his voice in a positive manner that makes listening a pleasure - definitely making any trip across town by tram or trolley bus much more enjoyable!

The first 11 lectures cover a quite disparate amount of subjects, all the while leading up to the mid 2nd Century B.C.E when Greece was finally conquered by Rome. Garland's aim, like I said, is to present Greek and Roman history as intricately connected, and not as separate entities.

He's immensely successful in doing this. My own experience of studying the ancient world is very much that the Greeks came first and the Romans second, when in fact it is much, much more complex than that. Garland overcomes that by considering them together - the opening 11 lectures illustrate this perfectly.

He discusses a variety of aspects to life in the Mediterranean that both Greeks and Romans would share, and how the respective systems were perhaps different - he covers political organisation, trade, law and order, slavery and "human rights", religion and their encounters throughout the 1st millennia B.C.E, right up until Rome has Greece totally overpowered. The result is that we are left with a holistic (ὅλος) understanding of Mediterranean culture during this period, and how it was truly Pan-Mediterranean. That is to say, there is something essential missed by studying just Greece or just Rome.

One of the greatest strengths of the series is the sheer depth of research involved. Garland quotes the ancient authors frequently, and modern scholars too (Erich Gruen, who's research I like very much indeed, get's the most mentions, I think), and this all adds to the texture of the series and it's intellectual weight. Almost every 30 seconds Garland drops in an interesting titbit, or story, making the lectures very easy to engage with.

Garland also stresses the understanding of everything in context (he mentions in the first lecture how different Greek and Roman culture is to ours), and as such he does not shy away from laying out straight the horrendous nature of Roman and Greek slavery, nor the human cost of Roman warfare. There is, however, no real judgements being made here, these things, after all, just were, and Garland remains much more interested in how the Greeks or Romans thought of such things as opposed to how we feel - which is to be applauded.

It's very hard to find any criticisms of the series. Although they're perhaps aimed at an interested member of the public, the depth does presuppose some knowledge of the ancient world, and I'd find it very hard to recommend them entirely to a beginner, although they're still of such high quality that any intelligent listener could benefit from them. Given that they're not exactly narrative history, but rather focused on the Greece/Rome relationship, it might be said that they are best suited to already knowledgeable listeners. Nevertheless, the integrated approach has much going for it, and I thoroughly recommend it.

Wine Sodden Gauls - Who's To Blame?

2009-10-24T11:27:00.007+02:00

As a bit of a follow up to my previous post on Roman wine, I read today in the Telegraph that Professor Paul Cartledge at Cambridge has posited the theory that the Ancient Greeks actually introduced wine to Gaul and it wasn't the Romans as is commonly believed (although, I'm sure Cartledge is not the only scholar aware of the Greek influence here, despite the news reports). (The news piece from Cambridge is here).

His study claims that Massalia (Marseilles), founded unambiguously by Greeks (and which prior to the Romans was a bustling trading centre owing to it's location on the coast, and the rivers allowing goods to be transported inland), became a centre for the spread of viticulture among the tribes of Gaul.

He rests the theory on the notion that (i) Massalia survived because Greeks arrived and integrated themselves into the area (thereby introducing Greek ideas and tastes) and (ii) that evidence of amphorae found in Celtic sites indicate that there was a wine trade quite some time prior Roman domination of Gaul. Seems all quite plausible to me that it was the Greeks what did it because the foundation of Massalia certainly pre-dates Roman expansion into Gaul and provides more evidence than the notion that the Etruscans introduced wine to the area.

The Telegraph article also mentions that Cartledge is currently involved in a revision of what constituted "Ancient Greece", with the belief that it covered a huge geographical area, from Spain to Georgia, which is much greater than how it is usually considered as covering roughly the same area as Modern Greece. Establishing the Greeks as a major influence in bringing wine to the Gauls seems to be a facet of this. This partly explains why this is all being treated as entirely new - Cartledge has a new book! (although I doubt it's his fault).

There is no doubt that Roman expansion certainly increased the spread of viticulture (and the availability of wine) in Gaul, but it's rather fascinating to think that initially it game from Greece through Massalia, although it certainly makes sense considering the period in which Massalia was founded (around 600 B.C.E - well before Roman expansion into the area), and that Greeks, who drunk wine, were the ones that settled there.

If the Greeks did bring wine to Gaul, then I suppose they should receive the blame for all the drunken Gauls marauding around the country drinking undiluted wine and selling people into slavery for a single amphora. The Cambridge news story adds the funny titbit that:

"Travelling up the river might even have constituted the original booze cruise"

which suggests the pretty funny image of a load of smelly barbarian Gauls shouting at nearby women as their wine laden boats floated along the river.

The idea that Greece covered a much larger area than people assume, also seems to me a pretty sound one. "Greece" was not a nation as we conceive it, but rather a people linked by language. Greece was a "nation" of individual city-states, and so the notion of "Greece" as a geographical expression does not really work. The upshot is that essentially this expression "Ancient Greece" to mean some kind of nation, means that any place in which "Greeks" (i.e. Greek speakers) were could be considered "Greece".

So then, we can blame the Greeks for wine sodden Gauls, but also thank them for wonderful modern French wine. Balances out, I think.

Scalae Gemoniae.

2009-10-18T15:34:00.006+02:00

I was reading at About.com that today is the anniversary of Sejanus' execution for treason. Sejanus (occasionally, and properly, Seianus) was the head of the Praetorian guard and under Tiberius managed to establish huge control over the city of Rome, operating tyrannically with a legion of agents and informers that had the whole of Rome in fear. To my mind he's always been somewhat like the head of the Empire Gestapo.

In 31 C.E his conspiratorial plans were rumbled and reported to Tiberius who had the "partner of [his] labours" (Tacitus, Ann. 4.2) promptly executed. Cassio Dio tells us (58.11) that:

"By their order (The Senate's) he was executed and his body cast down the stairway, where the rabble abused it for three whole days and afterwards threw it into the river".

The stairway in question was the (in)famous Scalae Gemoniae or Gemonian Stairs. We have no record of their use prior to Tiberius, but it seems that they overtook the Tarpeian Rock as the favoured spot for bloody executions (the rock being "popular" during the Republic). From Tiberius onwards criminals would be strangled and cast upon the stairs for the people to desecrate their bodies, dogs to eat them and then after a few days tossed in the Tiber.

This interesting article suggests that the exact location of the stairs is unknown, but that they were near the Capitoline and were perhaps where the current Via Di San Pietro In Carcere is, which is a place I've visited during my time in Rome.

What made me especially interested in the stairs today (the anniversary of Sejanus' execution aside) is that they make a rather gruesome set piece in I, Claudius which I was watching recently. After Sejanus' execution (eerily seen from his point of view) he is tossed on the stairs and left to rot.

All in all it's rather harrowing, and goes someway to illustrate just how brutal ancient Rome truly was. Despite the overwhelming evidence of said brutality, it's a fact often overlooked as we study the humanity of the Romans or their achievements, but they were a gruesome lot, and the Gemonian Stairs illustrate that perfectly.

The Problematic Turbot.

2009-10-16T12:42:00.007+02:00

Like many folks, I really like Juvenal. Disavowing all scholarship for a moment, I think he's just plain funny. Sometimes that's overlooked in favour of this or that kind of analysis, but I think it's essential to never let slip from one's mind the great humour involved in his satires.

I'd be stretched to pick a favourite satire, but I have read satire IV recently (we have no titles, so satire IV is the proper name, and it's been given many titles, but essentially it's about the problem posed by a rather big fish), and I think it's wonderful. (an English version of the satire is available here).

The story goes that an enormous fish has been caught, and by nature of it's size,it must be presented to the Emperor as a gift. However, once it's been delivered it poses a unique problem: how to cook a darn fish so big! In the hope of finding a solution a council is called among the members of Domitian's court. They debate about what do do (they can't cook it whole - it's too big!) and so the final decision is to at once manufacture a new and unusually large vessel so that it may be cooked whole.

The essential thrust of the tale is a satire of the Imperial court and the sycophants that reside within it (not to mention those who wish to be in it). Juvenal tells how that when such an enormous fish was caught even the "shores were crowded with informers" and so who could do anything with the monster fish other than present it to the Emperor.

Once the fish has been rushed to the Emperor with all haste, a council is formed in order to decide how to cook it. Courtiers of Domitian then discuss it at length, even considering it an omen of victory, before deciding to create a special vessel for it to be cooked in.

TThe central absurdity of a council being called in order to decide how best to cook a fish and the clamouring of the members of that council to honour their Emperor is what makes the satire so funny. A fish? A giant fish? Is that really the stuff of a state council? Under the Emperors, it is, says Juvenal.

One of my favourite elements of the satire is a play on words. In the opening section Juvenal says:

"No bad man can be happy: least of all the incestuous seducer with whom lately lay a filleted priestess".

The world "fillet" in Latin is "vitta", which is the term for a particular piece of head wear worn by the Vestal Virgins (priestesses) and the cut of fish (linked meanings, I'm guessing). The dual meaning of "fillet" in both the religious apparel and applied to the priestess who lay with the seducer makes for a devilish joke. A reminder that Juvenal, and satire more generally, is at first funny, and we should not become lost in scholarship.

A familiar theme is at work in this satire, as in many of Juvenal's satires. Rome has become clogged with sycophants - she is losing the qualities that made her great to begin with.

Many modern scholars believe satire was often written under the guise of a dramatis personæ (see Kernan, Anderson and Braund), that is to say that the satirists put on different "masks" and that the viewpoint that underlies each satire is not necessarily the one held by the writer (there is a bit of debate of course, but it's an interesting notion). What mask, then, is Juvenal wearing in this satire? Generally speaking the satires could be considered very funny but grumpy and conservative, and so this character may be the one adopted by Juvenal.

Is Juvenal adopting this "mask" in satire IV? I'm not sure to be honest. I have a thought though - we have so little evidence on the life of Juvenal, but there is some agreement among the information that we do have that he was exiled for a period perhaps for insulting an actor who had a high standing in the Imperial court. To ponder that for a moment - is it possible (real) Juvenal had a grudge against sycophantic courtiers, and that this satire is not performed entirely by a dramatis personæ but by a rather pissed off Juvenal himself, mask free (or at least letting it slip)? Maybe.

The thought that this dramatis personæ may have been quite transparent to ancient readers but a kind of mystery to us makes me laugh. Could it be possible that in 2000 years people will watch Ali G, Borat or Bruno and be wonder if they are "masks" worn by a hidden performer or if they are genuine? I'd like to think so.

A God In Colchester.

2009-10-13T15:57:00.007+02:00

I've now finished watching I, Claudius. Similar to my post below, this is for some (updated) thoughts and reflections - nothing too meaty.

Well, oh well. The second half of the series becomes increasingly dark (and given the amount of poisonings in the first half that's no mean feat!). Augustus is now a memory (although a deified one!) and the reigns of Tiberius and his Grand-Nephew (the Julio-Claudian stemma is pretty much needed to make head nor tails of the series entirely!) Caligula have turned out to be rotten ones. Roman women of good birth are conniving and sleeping (literally) their way through the entire city.

In short, Rome is a festering pit of decadence.

Then along comes the bumbling Claudius (or the cleverly bumbling in order to be ignored Claudius), and manages to make the Empire friendly towards a benevolent Princeps and decides he must allow Nero to take over the reins and soil the idea of an Emperor once and for all, which would consequently bring back the glorious Republic.

Nero firmly in power, the series ends. Jacobi is amazing in the final episodes, and as the scheming Claudius (a neat juxtaposition of his position in relation to his family - he's the opposite of a schemer and they're scheming all the damn time for most of the series) is ushered into the afterlife, I got a real sense of closure. This is after all Claudius' story - and with him it ends.

I was thinking about the sources for the series (and the novels), which seem primarily to be Tacitus and Suetonius, which I think is abundantly clear in the series. Echoes of Tacitus come through in the let's say "colourful" representation of aristocratic women, especially in the case of Livia. Tacitus is a writer who profoundly misses the Republic and is distrustful of the Principate - especially under despotic rulers. His nervousness about the nature of an Emperor dominated government, and the role of women are manifest in the series no end.

When you take this relatively negative view of the Julio-Claudian dynasty, and then let the famous gossip Suetonius loose on the material, it quickly becomes the stuff of sordid soap opera. Compellingly sordid though it is. In many ways I consider the series as a Tacitean account "sexed up" (sexified?) by Suetonius (Graves and the screenwriters are also involved in the sexing up of the show).

Graves, of course, subverts both of these accounts in the case of Claudius because he allows Claudius to be narrating a (fictional) history that he is writing about his family, which in turn allows Claudius to depicted in contrast to how he usually is. Graves adds motive and explanation for why Claudius acted as he did, and I especially enjoy that aspect of the show. Claudius is no idiot - he sees what is going on around him and from his entire family is the only one to survive. Better to be alive with only half your wits than dead with all of them, as he says himself.

The show is just really bloody brilliant. The acting throughout verges on mind blowing (that scene with Brian Blessed comes to mind) and the unique direction, dialogue and score are all way, way above the standard of most TV shows (then or since). At the end of it all, after being a secret passenger to the Julio-Claudian soap opera, one is left with the real feeling that they know or understand these people that before Graves' novel were (perhaps) two dimensional historical figures. Therein is the rub - that's why the series is a triumph - we are Claudius' closet confidants, and through him everything is brought to life.

Like I said, it's just really bloody brilliant.

Oh and to blogdrop (is it even called that?) Juliette at Pop Classics has posts about each I, Claudius episode which go into much greater depth than I do. They're pretty great and available here: Pop Classics. (I don't think the entire series is there though).

He, Clavdivs.

2009-10-10T20:44:00.005+02:00

I spent this morning watching the first four parts (or so) of the great I, Claudius. Robert Graves once said that he disliked how popular the book and TV show had become, and even claimed that he wrote it for money and to a publisher's deadline for a book. Nevertheless, I think it's cracking, and lots of others do too.

I've decided against criticising it's historical veracity - it plays loose with the history, but I believe it's such a great work of fiction (based, of course, on real enough events) that sticking to the history is not the be all and end all. Instead I'm just putting some thoughts and reflections into this post.

The show is narrated by an elderly Claudius who decides to tell the story of his family (and by gum, it's one huge extended and complicated family the man has - as one glance at a full Julio-Claudian family tree will tell you). Thus, the series begins 6 or so years after the Battle of Actium (putting it around 25 or 24 B.C.E) and with each episode it jumps a quite a few years. The final episode I watched today closed with the death of Augustus (in 14 C.E) meaning it has covered some 39 years in a mere 4 episodes.

The historical skeleton Graves used to pin his story onto was already juicy enough (he bases the story on Tacitus and the famous gossip Suetonius) - the family drama of the Julio-Claudians in this period was really great stuff - full of intrigue, jealousy, bad luck and even a bit of murder (maybe). The greatest thing about Graves' story is that it brings to life an immensely complicated and important period of Roman history - one can believe in the characters, and get a real flavour for their family dramas.

The scheming of Livia (exaggerated but really compelling viewing!) and the trials of Augustus' search for a successor (everyone keeps getting murdered by Livia!) let alone the various pressures of being part of the Imperial family on it's many members, who are variously seen having all sorts of problems. The focus is the Imperial family, not political movings and shakings (although, they of course, are what the Imperial family was all about).

The direction, writing and acting are all top notch (getting a glimpse of a personal hero of mine - Patrick Stewart - as Sejanus was a particular high point for me) and I must concede that I adore the TV show - and it really, really stands the test of time. It's some 33 years old now, but barely shows it.

Derek Jacobi is in scene stealing form as Claudius, cerebral palsy (the modern consensus is) and all. The characterisation of Claudius by Graves and Jacobi's personification of that character make the whole show work. Graves reads into the history and we're all the better for it. We can get a feeling for the motivations and the emotions of these historical figures, and while they may not be true, such conjecture can help bring the ancient world to life in a way that is often difficult for us to grasp.

When the more recent series Rome appeared on TV screens a few years ago, many folks in the media billed it as natural successor to I, Claudius. In many respects, I think that's quite true. Rome boasts a huge budget and lavish sets, while I, Claudius was filmed mainly on indoor stages, but the quality of both is exceptionally high. The focus of Rome was the Julio-Claudians in their infancy, and we are connected to the history via two plebeian soldiers. In I, Claudius the rank and file get little mention, and the focus remains the Imperial family - I think this shift in interest reflects changes in scholarship in the 70 or so years between the writing of Graves' book and the production of Rome.

The greatest strength that both shows share is that they animate Roman history and bring it's characters to life. We can see Caesar at the Rubicon, Octavian triumph over Mark Antony, Augustus weep when his adopted sons Gaius and Lucius both die young and witness the temperament of Tiberius - how sympathetic yet unlikeable he is. We cannot get this from the ancient historians to the same extent, and that is where historical fiction (of really good quality) comes into it's own.

Funnily enough, I think the best works of historical fiction are also the best researched ones, and often those rooted in real events are the most exciting. I suppose this is an indicator of just how fascinating ancient history is and how complex her famous figures were. I, Claudius illustrates this perfectly.

In Vino Veritas.

2009-10-09T15:31:00.006+02:00

Was it that unusual for a Roman transport ship, in the 1st or 2nd century A.D, to be carrying French wine? I think probably not.

Despite that, there has been a fair bit of news coverage recently regarding the fact that a Roman shipwreck found off the Cypriot coast was carrying some wine amphorae from the South of France.

Many of the news stories (samples here and here) have "French Wine Found in Roman Shipwreck" blazoned across their tops, but then there is very little comment on the wine at all after that. It seems a bit curious to me. My immediate thoughts are that it sounds a bit newsworthy, as in: "Romans drinking FRENCH wine!?!? are you kiddin'!?", while in actual fact it is not especially extraordinary at all.

Following the explosion of Roman viticulture after her pacification of the Italian peninsula, wine was widely available in Rome, and following the establishment of trade routes through Gaul it became one of the hottest exports (Diodorus has the story of Gauls selling their own people into slavery in exchange for wine and then drinking it undiluted like true barbarians).

As Roman culture made it's influence known, the provinces started to produce their own wine, and this was often imported to Rome (economics made it cheaper to export desirable Roman wine and demand ensured that French or Spanish vintages would be imported - especially following Domitian's edict of 92 C.E which curbed the planting of new vineyards in Italy). The upshot of this is that by the 1st and 2nd centuries A.D, it would not be all that unusual for Roman trade vessels to be transporting French wine.

Why these news reports are treating Roman importation of French wine as a new discovery is confusing, although one suspects it's because it'll make a newsworthy article for many freelance writers in need of a submission (maybe I'm being cynical).

There is maybe an element of wishful thinking that French (or Gaulish) culture had conquered Rome (echoing Horace's famous line about Captive Greece taking her rude captor captive), but that's not especially true and quite misleading.

The Res Gestae – A Podcast.

2009-10-04T14:19:00.002+02:00

Those nice folks at the University of Warwick (Alison Cooley and – I’m guessing based on something said – Peter Pormann) recently released a rather neat podcast on the topic of Augustus and his Res Gestae (The Queen of Inscriptions, as Mommsen called it), which is available, via the University of Warwick website, here: Augustus Podcast.

The podcast runs around 32 minutes, with Pormann acting as interviewer and Cooley as interviewee (although it’s much more informal than that suggests). Pormann introduces the major topics in the study of Augustus – his rise to power, becoming Princeps, his foreign policy, the imperial family and his search for a successor etc, while Cooley responds.

The content is pretty interesting, although there was very little that someone familiar with the period won’t already know – the podcast is likely for undergraduate students, and coincides with the release of Cooley’s new translation of the Res Gestae.

The discussion takes an interesting turn at a few points. Cooley’s explanations regarding how the inscription would be displayed and viewed in Ancient Rome (it’s sheer size meant it was unlikely to be read in its entirety, but the ubiquity of the inscription would mean all Romans were familiar with it, and by inference what Augustus had done for them) are especially good, and insightful (seeing the world of Ancient Rome through their eyes is notoriously difficult, but it’s always worth trying).

Similarly when she tells of the inscriptions history, and especially where it was found (in the Eastern Empire – Ankara, Galatia and Antioch), the podcast is also at its best. In particular I liked her explanations regarding the differences in context and language between the three extant inscriptions (Ankara is in Latin and Greek, Antioch just in Latin and Galatia in Greek).

The view of Augustus’ later reign as being devoid of “fireworks” and somewhat negative, is also pretty refreshing. Understanding the Res Gestae as a part response to the eight or so years of political and social problems seems fruitful to me. Afterall, Varus’ loss of the legions, the revolt in Pannonia and Augustus’ familial problems (the death of successors, and the transgression of his moral laws by his daughter and granddaughter) certainly put a dark taint on his reign towards its end. Erecting a huge inscription to remind everyone what he had done for them over his long public career would be a suitable response.

If I had to throw some criticism on the podcast, I’d say is that there a lack of continuity with naming, especially in the early parts of the show. There is mention of Octavian, Augustus, Octavianus and Julius Caesar Octavianus Son of a God, but little clarity about the reasonably clear periods in which each name was used (even if they are only clear because modern scholarship tends to use them).

One other slight criticism is that there is little discussion on the historical veracity of Augustus’ claims in the Res Gestae, despite the podcast claiming to discuss the topic. This, though, really is just a bit of me being pedantic.

Overall, it’s a really nice idea, interesting content, and although, like I said earlier, it has nothing new for those familiar with the topic, it's still a nice piece. Moreover hearing Cooley talk about the topic of her new book is interesting, but, given the content of the podcast, I do wonder if her updated edition of the Res Gestae will really contain enough new material to supersede my Brunt and Moore copy, which has been a trusty companion for a long while.

For the interested, I took photographs of the inscription as it is placed in modern Rome during my visit there this past July. They’re big enough for the entire inscription to be read, in Latin, and they are available in one of my previous posts here: Roman Holiday Post.

Suetonius and Wishful Thinking.

2009-10-03T18:10:00.007+02:00

The past few days have seen a few interesting archaeological developments in Rome and it's environs. There was a flurry of news when it was announced that Nero's famous rotating dining room, mentioned by Suetonius, was found on the Palatine hill in Rome, and there has been considerable wordage on the discovery of a "luxury" amphitheatre in Portus, near Rome.

Both of these discoveries are interesting in themselves, although much research remains to be done. The fascinating thing is how both discoveries have become headline, attention grabbing news, despite significant doubts regarding exactly what has been found.

Touching on similar themes to my Vespasian's villa post, it's quite important to ask - are these discoveries really what they're purported to be? The answer is maybe, but can't really be put any firmer than that.

Mary Beard has questioned the validity of both identifications on her blog (here and here), and I think there is significant mileage in asking if said identifications are correct. Her thoughts about the "utter tosh" written about the amphitheatre seems spot on to me, considering that the dig leader, Simon Keay, was always careful to say that the possible history of the amphitheatre is all postulation at this stage.

Why exactly do (some) archaeologists and the media sensationalise each discovery? Does everything need to be instantly related to a historical figure in case funding is immediately cut, or the University loses out on some much needed publicity? As for the media, they need a story - Joe Public does not care about the discovery of a Roman dining room, but label it Nero's and it's newsworthy.

The identification of the amphitheatre so far seems tenuous at best. Beard points out that we have no idea what the surrounding buildings are, despite their current identification as an "Imperial Palace", and so it's a bit of a non sequitur at this stage to have the amphitheatre down as a private entertainment complex of the Emperors.

Nero's rotating dining room is a somewhat more complex question. The existence of the dining room is only known via Suetonius' Life of Nero and there is considerable debate regarding what the Latin describes exactly (Beard's readers make some useful comments below her post on this topic) for example; does the room fully rotate, or does the ceiling rotate, and what exactly would it mean to an ancient Roman for the heavens to move?

Location wise, it's in roughly the right place - Nero's Domus Aurea covered huge swathes of land in the centre of Ancient Rome, but there is considerable doubt as to how the Golden House actually looked. Beard adds that there is the "terrible temptation" to equate finds on the ground with the literary descriptions of Roman writers, and that seems to be at least part of the case here.

It's probably right to be a bit sceptical about the whole affair thus far, but the pictures provided could plausibly be the described dining room, and there seems to be a fair suggestion that some mechanical device has been unearthed that was used to rotate the room. All in all, maybe a bit early to call it Nero's rotating dining room (if one existed), despite the surety apparent in almost all news reports of it's discovery.

That said, it remains an incredibly interesting find, and I look forward greatly to see if it genuinely is what it's claimed to be. The questions it has raised over the nature of archaeological work, the reporting of it and the politics behind such things, however, will no doubt continue to be asked as each new discovery is immediately sensationalised lest it be ignored.

I think that with the need to find a new Pompeii, and for each find to be elevated to "special" and "visitor worthy" status so quickly after it's discovery, there is a danger that real archaeological work, the nitty gritty of digs and research will be somewhat undermined, or that anything not immediately associated with a famous figure or event will be passed over as not being worthy of publicity. That, without doubt, would be a great shame.

Update: I realised the project leader for the amphiteatre, Simon Keay, has commented on Mary Beard's post and says the following:

"Mary, you are right of course. While I was very concerned to put across a tempered report of our discoveries, as the official press release makes clear, many of the press reports have indeed delivered more esoteric and imaginative interpretations of what I said. This is inevitable in any publicity as you know. Nevertheless the coverage it gives us is still very valuable as it is often the only way that many of us can provide the public at large with some idea of what it is that we do, and also in this case to give prominence to a world class site that is otherwise unknown and very hard to get into the public eye" - Simon Keay.

Keay gives a sound reason for the sensationalist reports, and it's easy to sympathise with him. He seems to be taking a pragmatic attitude, and I suppose the stresses of being a Project Leader mean that the saying all publicity is good publicity rings quite true.

Dating Pompey's Death.

2009-09-29T20:37:00.009+02:00

Each year at this time (the tail end of September) the internet buzzes (when I say buzz, I'm no doubt exaggerating) with debate regarding the exact date for the death of Pompey the Great in 48 B.C.E. (We can be sure about the year owing to a myriad of evidence for the general time line of the Civil War in this year, and when exactly Pompey was defeated at Pharsalus).

The dating of ancient events is always a difficult exercise. Without the vast record keeping abilities that we have today, there was considerable room for error when the ancients wrote their histories. Years, when it comes to the major events, are usually secure enough, but precise dates remain difficult to pin down. Pompey's death is a prime example of this.

The ancient sources tend to reference his death in relation to his birthday (they happened around the same date), but for this to be useful one must first confirm the date of his birth. There is no considerable debate regarding the year of his birth because we know the Consuls of that year (106 B.C.E), and there is general collusion that his 3rd triumph (in 61 B.C.E) happened on his birthday, and since the triumph can be reasonably dated to the 29th of September then that his the most reliable date for his birthday.

Now, with that a reasonably firm foundation to build on, the question now arises - when exactly did he die? The ancient writers don't quite agree. Appian and Dio are rather imprecise (Dio - Book 42.5 - says he was in his 58th year when he died, which generally puts his death prior to the 29th of September, when he would have been 59, which Appian -Book 2.86 - does also).

Valleius Paterculus is "more" helpful and and says - Book 2.53 - that Pompey died on the eve of his birthday in his 58th year, making the date of his death September 28th. Plutarch, rather unhelpfully, gives us two possibilities, saying in his life of Pompey - 79 - that he died on the day after his birthday, which gives a date of September 30th, and in his life of Camillus, says that Pompey died on his birthday, putting the date back to September 29th.

The question, then, is who do we believe? Valleius Paterculus was alive much closer to the time of Pompey, and it's possible he had sources that were alive when during that batch of Civil Wars, which adds a certain weight to his date of the day before Pompey's birthday - September 28th. Plutarch, besides giving us two dates, was alive much, much later, when no one alive during Pompey's lifetime would be still living. The same goes for Appian, and even more so for Cassius Dio, who wrote much later.

Valleius Paterculus also chastises those who misdate Pompey's age (Plutarch, in his life - Book 46 - says Pompey was almost 40 at the time of his 3rd triumph in 61 B.C.E, when in fact it was his 45th birthday). Given VP's attitude here, it's probably worth giving him the benefit of the doubt that he also was quite sure about his dating of Pompey's death, and so I'm willing to plunge for the date September 28th - the day before Pompey's 59th birthday (modern historians generally take this date too, so I'm in good company).

The problem of precise dating aside, Mary Beard in her work "The Roman Triumph" makes the wonderful observation that:

"[Pompey's] whole life - his death no less than his birth - was tied to his moment of triumph" (pg.36).

Despite the dates being in question, the possibilities only cover several days, and a result of this is that, as Beard points out, Roman cultural memory, as is evident in the ancient writers mentioned above, inevitably associates Pompey's birth and his death with his triumph. In many ways that illustrates the fall of Pompey, and it's role in later Roman culture, to such a degree that any problems of exact dating are relegated somewhat from prominence (although it's still immense fun trying to work it out).

Historical approaches becoming history.

2009-09-22T15:11:00.004+02:00

I've recently been reading A.R Burn's "History of Greece" (the 1965 edition) and it I felt compelled to make a post regarding the differences in approaches to the study of history over time.

Burn's book itself is excellent. It spans Greece from it's first peoples until her role under the Christian Roman Emperors, with the focus mostly on the Classical and Hellenistic periods, especially in Athens. The focus itself betrays the preoccupations of 1960s scholarship - the Classical period and Classical Athens in particular. However, where it becomes quintessentially old fashioned is in it's content.

For the purpose of this post I focused on a section of the book called "The Great Fifty Years: Athenian Society", as I think it helps contrast the differences in scholarship over the past fifty years.

It got me to thinking: If there was a new book out today called "Athenian Society" what topics may it cover? Politics and public life would be, naturally, part of it, but there would be so much more and they wouldn't necessarily be the focus. There would be sections on the family, the role of women, gender, social activities and what they said about the Athenian character, sexuality, an interest in other forms of literature and what they can tell us (the novel for example, esp. in Hellenistic times). Most of these topics are inherently modern, and they're not included in any real doses within Burn's section on "Athenian Society".

For him, "Athenian Society" means the way democracy operated, the intellectual atmosphere (philosophers and sophists) and what Pericles was up to. Attitudes really have changed. In many respects Burn's brand of narrative history is no longer in fashion, and I think that's a bit of a shame.

Some of my finest memories from my time at University were in "narrative" style lessons on Greek history. Covering the Persian Wars, or Greece after the Peloponnesian War. Discussing how many boats were at Artemisium and what our sources tell us. Asking whether Herodotus exaggerated something yet again and all the time quasi-worshipping Thucydides as a proto-modern historian (modern, of course, now meaning old fashioned).

The foreword to the book has a nice section where Burn introduces the book's "modern" approach, insomuch as it doesn't just consider the military or political events (which "have been traditionally considered the stuff of history proper") but seeks to introduce "public affairs" to the area of study. The thought dawned on me that all things that are once modern will also be once old fashioned.

In some respects reading the book reminded me of the fact that we should never forget to remove the goggles of our own time, nor the dogmatism of our approaches - for those of the past can still teach us much. I love reading Burn's book (it's almost in pieces these days) and enjoy the style of it, it's handy "for travelling" size, the wonderful fold-out chronological table, and it's dedication to "young travellers".

There is a spirit in the book that transcends historical approaches, and I believe it's that love of history that kept Greek history lectures at 4pm on a Wednesday afternoon in a basement with an aging, ruffled haired, academic cape wearing Professor absolutely essential viewing.

Rome's Blue Guide.

2009-09-20T08:59:00.006+02:00

During my undergraduate degree, I was required to spend a minimum of three weeks travelling around the ancient sites of the Mediterranean. Prior to departure, the classics department recommend the purchase of the Blue Guide to Rome for anyone planning a visit to the eternal city. Sufficed to say I bought it and have been using it ever since.

Styled as a cultural guide (I dislike that term, but as far as it's useful and can be applied - this is the book for it), it's a weighty 624 pages of in depth information about all the cultural treasures of Rome. I've used it 4 or 5 times in visits to Rome, and it's been totally invaluable. So much so that my copy is now dog eared and held together by sticky tape.

The main author is Alta Macadam, who lives in Florence and has a rich history of living and working in Italy. She is supplemented, on history, art history and architecture by Nigel McGilchrist, Charles Freeman and Mark Roberts - all of whom have huge experience of Rome, academic history and Italy more generally. The result of such informed persons writing the guide means that it's general intelligence, cultural awareness and depth is unparalleled by the more popular lines of travel guides.

On matters of organisation: the guide opens with a short but scene-setting introduction, followed by a concise and relatively academic historical sketch of the city from it's foundation to it's present day state. It's top heavy with regards the classical period, but it offers a good overview of the city's history over some (almost!) 3000 years. This historical sketch also has a nice section on the Popes, which is very useful.

The following main body of the guide is divided by geographical area, each of which roughly confines to the hills of ancient Rome (an illustration opens the guide showing each area pg.5). Given the scope of the guide, organising itself geographically was the only viable option, and it works well throughout.

The content itself is marvellous. Macadam has a deep and passionate relationship with the city, and knows it inside out. The depth of cultural commentary and information is excellent, and throughout the guide the aim is not just to signpost and introduce the sites of Rome, but to give them context, a story and set them into the extravagant history of the city.

The areas covering the ancient sites are detailed and interesting - highlighting the history and significance of each monument, area or ruin. There is no "look at this, move on and look at this" style advice suitable for the modern "go to say I've been/seen" tourist, but rather really chunky pieces of information for most sites of interest to the classical visitor. Often little coloured boxes are inserted that give some historical background relevant to the area being discussed - topics include Roman Gods and worship, Obelisks and the Triumph - each of them inherently useful.

The guide is also complete with wonderful illustrations (my favourite being the Carvaggio pair that are in Santa Maria Del Popolo), but not so much as to appear a picture travel book. The images capture something of the stark majesty of the paintings themselves, and add a lovely gloss to any reading of the guide.

Extensive guides to both Ostia and Hadrian's Villa at Tivoli are to be applauded - as many guides have them simply as an addendum - whereas they're an essential part of this one, which is no less than they deserve. Centrale Montemartini, a subsidiary museum (of sorts) of the Capitoline museums, also gets much deserved page space. It's an absolutely wonderful museum, which is often overlooked.

One the flip side, though, there is very little mention of anything remotely related to the E.U.R, and one gets the impression that Macadam dislikes the suburb, and the fascist ties of Rome's past more generally so much that they fall by the way side. That's not to say that the E.U.R is not ugly - it is! - but it holds the so-called Square Colosseum, which is an interesting monument, and also the Museo Della Civiltà Romana which hosts full plaster casts of Trajan's column and also a miniature, to scale (1:250), replica of Rome under the rule of Constantine, built by Italo Gismondi. Both of these attractions are worth the journey out to the E.U.R alone, but they get frightful little mention (they're relegated to a small appendix near the end of the book).

Besides the huge amount of information for the traveller interested beyond the superficial levels, I think the real strength of the work lies in it's awareness of Rome as a truly eternal city, one with so many layers they're difficult to see all at once. In the guide Rome is, at once, the heart of a great classical empire, the home of the Popes, a medieval beacon of research and civilisation, a Papal city state and the capital of a united Italy - and she is, of course, all these things and more.

The guide itself gives the reader a flavour of Rome's embarrassingly rich cultural heritage through it's content, and this in reinforced with little snippets of information or quotes from famous visitors - Goethe, Keats and Shelly among many, many others. In essence, one gets a taste of the city, and can begin to piece together the myriad of things Rome actually is. That, to my mind, is the highest achievement any guide can aim for.

The current 2006 edition is a tad outdated, especially with regards to visiting the Forum, Palatine and Colosseum, but that's not a significant problem, nor really the fault of the author or this guide - it cannot be updated constantly. Most of the information is still relevant, but in Rome, of all cities, any visitor should be aware of the irony contained in the idea of Rome's constancy, but her ever changing face.

In summation, if you're visiting Rome and want a "cultural guide", there really is nothing that compares.

The "Elginism" Movement.

2009-09-18T13:59:00.003+02:00

I recently came across the website for a rather interesting internet movement, which operates under the banner - "Elginism".

I'm sure the name "Elgin" will be familiar to anyone who reads this, but in short, Lord Elgin, a British aristocrat, took the Parthenon marbles (often called the Elgin Marbles - a label I dislike) from Greece at the dawn of the 19th century and transported them to London, where they remain. That the British Government has not given the marbles back to Greece is a subject of much debate.

The website (here) defines Elginism as:

Elginism (ĕl’gĭnĭz’əm) n. 1801. An Act of cultural vandalism.

The aim of the movement and it's general ideals can be garnered here.

In short, it's a movement that wants the Parthenon marbles given back to Greece. It hosts a phenomenal amount of material, from all over the globe, regarding the marbles and the notion that they should be given back to Greece. Personally, I tend to agree.

For quite some time the British Museum has maintained the defence that Greece, and specifically Athens, has no place to properly display the marbles. While this may or may not have been true, earlier this year The New Acropolis Museum opened, and seemed to finally dismiss the British arguments for keeping the marbles, as now there was a suitable place for them to be housed.

Still, though, the British Museum has persisted. On their website they outline the idea that the marbles are part of "everyone’s shared heritage and transcend cultural boundaries", which while certainly a moot point, seems rather like a stubborn "bugger off Greece, you're not getting them, new museum or not". It betrays a thinly veiled arrogance that the marbles belong in London, which I think is mistaken.

There is no doubt in my mind that, as the Elginism movement states, Lord Elgin essentially stole the marbles for his own benefit (he sold them to the British museum in 1817) and it makes the very idea of them being in London a rather soiled and unfortunate one. The argument that in London the marbles are displayed in an "international cultural context" is a pretty poor one in my opinion. Strictly, of course, it's true, but it's still, not to put too fine a point on it, utter tosh.

The idea that London owns the cultural legacy of the marbles makes little sense to me. They are part of Greece's most important monument, and a religious one at that - they should be there.

There is an interesting philosophical question at the heart of this - if something is of global cultural significance, should anyone actually claim to own it? Perhaps not, but this applies to the British as much as the Greeks.

It will be debated for years to come, I have no doubt, but I just happen to feel that they should be given back to Greece simply because the Parthenon is there and they belong to the Parthenon.

California is the Best of Classical Greece...

2009-09-13T12:34:00.008+02:00

Something I spotted over at Rogueclassicism today caught my attention. It seems that Arnold Schwarzenegger, Governor of California, is using classical references in his speeches (when I say references, I mean blatant comparisons). This one comes from his 2007 State of the State address:

“We are the modern equivalent of the ancient city-states of Athens and Sparta. California has the ideas of Athens and the power of Sparta.”

"What a bloody strange thing to say", I thought to myself when I first read this. It got me to thinking: is the Governator (I don't get tired of using that sobriquet!) aware of the possible implications of his comparison?

I wonder - when he says California has the "ideas" of Athens and the "power" of Sparta, does he imagine that they'll work together initially, under a common goal (drive out those damn Persians again!), then when that goal's been achieved (Ciao Xerxes), they'll start to bicker until it's full blown war (Elephant Vs Whale - The Peloponnesian War)?

I applaud that he realises Athens and Sparta were city-states, but he seems to have missed the idea that they were great rivals, and that their respective strengths (as he labels them) were what caused them to become such great rivals. Continuing his analogy surely means California is heading for a troubled time.

The (modern stereotyped) image of City-Hall having chiseled, red cape wearing Spartan musclemen arguing with the intellectual, pederastic Athenian philosophers about which direction the state of California should take does make for some laughs (I think!)

My final thought was - will the "ideas" eventually be subjugated by the "power" and will California have to endure 30 tyrants? If so, it'll need the Governator at his best to drive them out. Another potential upshot is - once they've fought themselves into weakness, who'll be the Thebes that runs in and takes over in the aftermath?

The Washington Post reports that he continues the comparison by labelling California a "nation-state". One hopes he realises the potential for comparisons by extension - the city-states of Greece were famous four, if anything!, their incessant bickering and fighting.

The potential pitfalls of using comparisons with the classical world are numerous and it seems that the Governator has fell directly into one, and in turn highlights the difficult nature of using the classical world to get a modern political foot up.

Reading into his analogy is all just a bit of fun and could probably be continued ad absurdum. For example, does he realise the "power" of Sparta relied heavily on her rigid class system that actively exploited all non-Spartiates? Or that Athens, for all her ideas, ruled over two naval Empires that heavily exploited those under her protection? I could go on, but I won't

All in all, a rather interesting thing for the Governator to say, and something which has, no doubt, provided a fair but of discussion among classicists as to whether he really knew what he was saying, or if some speech writer simply thought it weighty enough to appeal to the common Californian. There is of course the possibility that, among the Governator's staff, there is a closet classicist sneaking references into his/her bosses' speeches!

The Tyrannicides are back.

2009-09-11T10:14:00.007+02:00

Some rather good news. It seems that the Farnese collection in Naples is set to reopen it's doors on October 2nd.

Blogging Pompeii (a really excellent blog for everyone involved in archaeological work around the Bay of Naples) reports (from an Italian news service - available here) that the entire collection is scheduled to open once more to the public as of next month. The collection was undergoing a "reorganisation".

Given the quality of the collection, this is really superb news. The collection holds, among other treasures, the sculpture of the Athenian Tyrannicides (who were, monumental in the development of the Classical Athenian character and society). The pederastic couple of Harmodius and Aristogeiton (Ἁρμόδιος and Ἀριστογείτων) "liberated" Athens from the Peisistratids, and their legend subsequently became the symbol and heart of Athenian democracy.

Rather interestingly, although this is almost always the case, the extant sculpture is a Roman copy of a Greek copy of the original. The story goes - and it's a little confusing, as many stories regarding our extant statues are - that the Persians nicked the original when they sacked Athens in 480 B.C.E and depending on who you read, either Alexander or Seleucus the 1st returned it to the city sometime later.

In the meantime the Athenians produced a copy to replace the stolen original. Neither of these two Athenian versions are still around, and so the copy we have is a Roman reproduction (or original work, as you care to interpret it) of the 2nd Athenian version. The copy we have, although now in Naples, was originally found in Tivoli (near Rome) at Hadrian's Villa.

This is interesting for several reasons. Firstly, Hadrian was an immense collector of art, and one wonders how the democratic ideal represented by the Tyrannicides was installed within his Villa and how the inherent irony of it being placed in the villa of an Emperor played out to those that viewed it.

Secondly - Hadrian himself knew the power of a pederastic relationship (with Antonius, a young member of his entourage), and I wonder what elements of his own experience he could compare with that exuded by the statues.

The reorganisation seems to be a wonderful idea. According to the Italian news source, they've attempted to

"respond to the policy of exploiting the work through the reconstruction, where possible contexts of origin and to reconstruct the context and the time of formation of the collector's collection itself".

All in all a rather good idea. Viewing sculpture is a complex activity, and almost everything can change our affect our interpretation of the sculpture we're viewing. It's perhaps opening a can of worms to really try and set the works into their original context, for the notion of recreating the original context is, in itself, an act of creation. That said, it's an admirable pursuit, and I look forward to being able to view it, and witnessing how the new setting will affect the impact of viewing the statue.

Google Translate, rather usefully, can turn the Italian news source into an "English" one, which, although my Italian is pretty weak, seems to be a worthy translation. Link here.

Ludi Romani and Actium.

2009-09-06T16:40:00.004+02:00

This period of September was party time for the ancient Romans. From September 4th until the 19th (this seems to be the final length, as it was much shorter prior to the last century of the Republic and prior to Caesar's death started on the 5th - it was moved earlier in honour of him) they celebrated the Ludi Romani (Roman Games) - a religious festival honouring JVPITER OPTIMVS MAXIMVS (Jupiter best and greatest).

Following a procession from the Capitoline Hill to the Circus Maximus, the Romans engaged in chariot racing and some theatrical productions. Given Jupiter's status at the zenith of the Roman Pantheon, these games were the more important on the religious calendar. I've always found the Ludi Romani quite fascinating, yet the get comparatively little attention compared to the events that took place in the Colosseum (once it was built in the 1st Century .C.E), despite being the principal festival of the religious year. A testament to this is that one of the central works on the games remains Mommsen's chapter in his "Römische Forschungen", which was published in the 1860s.

September 2nd marked the anniversary of the Battle of Actium in 31 .B.C.E, when the forces of Octavian Caesar routed the forces of Mark Antony and Cleopatra in the Ionian Sea near Actium. Given the amount of space afforded Augustus and the Augustan Age here, I thought it'd only be fitting to mark the official start date of the whole period, for it was from Actium onwards that Octavian, although with some significant hurdles still to leap, was essentially in sole control of Rome, paving the way for all that comes after (including my lengthy rambling posts on the period of his rule!).

Depictions of Actium, naturally, come from a period when the victor was essentially in control of the whole Roman Empire and Augustus was particularly interested in making the arts part of his social overhaul. One of the most famous is from Vergil's Aeneid (Book VIII), which itself is perhaps coloured by the fact that Vergil's patron was non other than the Senate-avoiding Equestrian for life friend of Augustus - Maecenas. In Vergil the battle is almost mythic and certainly far removed from it's status as a Civil War.

Robert Gurval in his book "Actium and Augustus", makes the astute comment that Vergil's Actium is all about securing Actium's legacy to the "beginning of a more glorious future" rather than to the "distant horrors of a tainted past" (both pg.13). Regardless of how it's depicted, the magnitude of the battle and it's outcome can never be understated, not least by the fact that over 2000 years later, we're still remembering the anniversary.

The Bad Citizen in Classical Athens.

2009-08-31T17:59:00.009+02:00

I recently read Matthew R. Christ's (MC, from now on) excellent and well researched study "The Bad Citizen in Classical Athens". I picked it up for a few reasons. Primary among them was that I wanted to do something on a period of ancient history before the coming of Rome, but up there was also the fact that I'd heard this book was a really fine one. That turned out to be true.

MC's aim in writing this book, as he states in his introduction, was to offer some balance to the discussion over the "Athenian experience" (that is, how it was to be an Athenian living in the 5th century B.C.E) by way of highlighting the "bad citizen", i.e. the citizen that shirked military duties, the paying of tax and other civil payments or "donations".

Essentially the argument is for us to eschew the romanticised portrait of Athenian citizens of being overwhelmingly patriotic and concerned more with public than self interest, and realise that the truth was a great deal murkier. In his introduction MC argues that the Athenian citizen (especially a wealthy one) was particularly adept at working his way around financial and civic obligations.

The work is accordingly separated into four sections covering three different ways in which a "bad citizen" shirks Athenian civic obligations. They are entitled: "The Self Interested Citizen", "The Reluctant Conscript", "The Cowardly Hoplite"and finally "The Artful Tax Dodger". The ways a bad citizen may manifest themselves are outlined as the following: attempting to avoid conscription, cowardice when on military duty and also the avoidance of financial obligations that the wealthiest citizens were subject to.

M.C argues in the "Self Interested Citizen" that the "Athenian Experience", as it were, was much more self-centred than is commonly said. He points towards certain anxieties apparent in our sources (comedy, tragedy and oratory) regarding the dichotomy within an Athenian citizen with respect to self interest and common duty to the civic body.

He claims that the entire Athenian system acknowledged the "self-interested" citizen, and so only aimed to enforce civic obligation when absolutely required. He rests this argument on the idea that Athenian democracy promoted individualism and equality, which promoted self interest but had certain inbuilt mechanisms for coercing civic duties out of the reluctant.

The next two chapters ("The Reluctant Conscript" and "The Cowardly Hoplite") cover MC's arguments regarding the bad citizen in relation to the military. MC argues that many were reluctant to be conscripted into the army, pointing towards the anxiety apparent in tragedy of this fact, and also the more straight forward notion that conscription was required because not enough would volunteer.

The latter chapter consists of M.C's quite excellent description of Athenian military life, and how it left much room for the bad citizen to manifest himself, be it via cowardice, desertion or a myriad of other ways.

The final section is an analysis of how the wealthiest Athenians actively avoided (or tried to reduce) the financial obligation put upon them by the state. M.C claims these Athenians practically made a full-time job out of tax evasion. He points towards the obligation placed on the richest citizens to fund public shows (the chorus in the theatre, for example) and also exceptional financial expectations put upon them during times of strife (such as the Persian Invasion, the Peloponnesian War and the loss of the Athenian Empire in the 4th century B.C.E).

The book is excellently argued, and nicely detailed. It's intensely difficult to disagree with M.C significantly at any stage - he paints a very convincing picture of the "Athenian Experience", and an altogether more convincing one the romantic norm. There is perhaps an element of wishful thinking (or jealously/envy) when those of us from the 20th and 21st Century imagine the patriotic and selfless Athenians and compare them to the intensely self interested citizens of today's wealthy nations, and attempting to see through this is a thoroughly worthy enterprise.

To that end M.C presents an excellent study, which has plenty of depth and strikes a chord as being full and sensible in it's conclusions regarding Athenian life. It remains thoroughly useful to question what is accepted, and in doing so here I believe M.C has managed to uncover something vital and interesting about the "Athenian Experience", and while there is much room for debate, that is of great service to us all.

_______________

Relevant bibliography:

Christ, M.R, "The Bad Citizen in Classical Athens", Cambridge (2006)

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Interestingly, M.C recently reviewed a work by Peter Liddell which takes a profoundly different view of the interaction between individual and his city than the one M.C advocates. The review can be found here at Bryn Mawr and is extremely interesting, as M.C takes a 3rd person view, so to speak, and has to defend his work and criticise Liddell's different view. Read with his book, it can be seen as a sort of meta-self-commentary, which is both useful and interesting.

The debate here continues as M.C also reviewed Gabriel Herman's "Morality and Behaviour in Democratic Athens: A Social History", to which Herman has replied (all at Bryn Mawr).

M.C on Herman here.
Herman's response here.

For what it's worth, I'm still with M.C, because I think he's more convincing. Although I may have further thoughts to add to this after I chew it over a bit more.

Update: It's been chewed over, and I still agree with M.C. On the whole he's more agreeable, and he's certainly right when he mentions the very polemical nature of Herman's prose. That said, Herman makes some interesting points, especially with regards the uniqueness of Athenian society in so many ways. He's rather unforgiving, and although I would need to read his work fully to make a proper judgement, I'm leaning towards the more pessimistic view (as it's called - but is it?) of Athenian society.

Mary Beard on BBC 4.

2009-08-31T08:56:00.006+02:00

Mary Beard was on BBC 4's Saturday Live this past weekend, and she was as entertaining as usual. Lots of interesting chit-chat and, of course, Beard's ruminations on the classics (and other things!).

The show lasts an hour, but it's quite worth listening to, even if it's just on in the background. There is some topical chat about drug addiction, and much more about the classics - her love of Latin, the enduring relevance of the the ancient world and some great tidbits about herself and her life.

Here is the link to the BBC Online player: Mary Beard on BBC 4.

Her blog online at the Times (called a Don's Life) is linked in my bloglist to the right of this post ----------->.

Syme and an "Augustan Party".

2009-08-28T16:49:00.005+02:00

The following is a little edited version of an essay I wrote during my masters on the topic of whether or not the term "Augustan Party" is useful when talking about the period of Rome's history when The Divine Augustus (Son of the Divine Julius Caesar!) was Princeps.

The essay title was initially:

“Can we usefully talk about an Augustan Party, and if so, of whom did it consist and why did they support Augustus?”

Although, as was my terrible habit, I didn't necessarily answer the question. I think what comes is best considered a review/brief analysis of Ronald Syme's "The Roman Revolution" and the ideas therein, specifically with reference to an "Augustan Party".

Generally, as with the other old essays posted here, I'm quite happy with it. It contains some phrases that I wouldn't use now, a notion which can be applied to several aspects of it's style (i.e. I wouldn't employ them now) but I'm quite happy with the content, and while I'd perhaps posit something a little different now (Syme did, afterall, publish some follow up works, such as "the Augustan Aristocracy" which showed his views had evolved somewhat), I think it's an OK (if not first rate) essay on an interesting topic.

I do apologise for how lengthy this is. In the event that anyone does read it, I hope it was not too painful.

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In 1939 Ronald Syme released a book entitled “The Roman Revolution”. Unapologetically and somewhat abrasively, he set out to challenge the conviction that the Augustan Age was one of overwhelmingly successful cultural, social and political change, smoothly implemented and controlled. This view, Syme rightfully claims, I think, is “simply panegyric” (Syme, Preface, pg.8) and he then sets out to prove Augustus as despot and tyrant. The impact of Syme’s work cannot be understated, indeed the difficult questions about exactly how Augustan power was manifest have been coloured by his work since its release. One of the specific claims that Syme makes is that there existed an “Augustan Party” that oversaw the successful change from Republic to Principate. Syme dedicates a chapter to the topic, arguing for the existence of such a party on the basis of German scholarship on the prosopography of the period. It’s the aim of this short essay to discuss Syme’s assertion that there was a “Party of Augustus”, to see whether that term is useful or not and if so, to consider whom it consisted of and why they supported Augustus.

Syme begins by saying that the “modest origins” of the Octavian faction are betrayed by its founders name [Syme, pg.349]. Although he’s not too clear at this juncture what exactly he means, the fact that Octavian was provincial in origin comes full circle by the end of the chapter. Nevertheless, Syme is attempting to illustrate that Octavian and his party come from somewhat humble backgrounds, indeed Syme makes mention that prior to his marriage to Livia, only one supporter of his faction comes from a Consular family (Cn. Domitius Calvinus) [Syme, pg.368]. This talk of Octavian’s origin crops up later when Syme attempts to justify his view of latter Augustan policy, and so it’s worth bearing in mind for the time being. Syme moves on to a commentary of the senatorial purges of 28 B.C under the Consulship(s) of Octavian and Agrippa. Syme, quite reasonably, considers this a preparatory move for the coming restoration of the state in early 27. B.C. Dio tells us that some two hundred “undesirables” had retirement firmly suggested to them. [Dio, 52.42.1]. Syme considers it clear, and most modern scholarship agrees, that this purge was very much dealing with the three hundred senators that had sided with Antonius prior to Actium, or at the very least the ones from that group that were unrepentant [Syme, pg.349]. Those left, Syme says, were the “Caesarion partisans and successful renegades” [Syme, pg.350]. He claims they were aware of the true purpose of Augustus’s reforms and the irony therein [Syme, pg.351]. The damage done to the aristocracy was to be healed by the creating of a new one, which Syme goes on to discuss.

One of the central tenets of Syme’s conception of an “Augustan Party” is the new role of the Equestrian order in public affairs. He considers promotion into and above the order to have been made vastly easier during the Augustan age [Syme, pg.352], with the primary justification for such promotions being military service. He illustrates the process by hyperbole when saying “sons of knights, knights themselves and finally Thracian and Illyrian brigands became Emperors of Rome” [Syme, pg.352]. “The Roman Revolution”, Syme contends, “opened up a path of promotion, which the new state perpetuated, for the common soldier” [Syme, pg.353]. He makes mention that it was feasible to be promoted or to gain Equestrian status through finance prior to the Augustan period, but that there was no organised and established dynamic for promotion from Centurion to Equestrian posts [Syme, pg.353]. Syme tells us that promotion to the Equestrian ranks happened in two ways [Syme, pg.354]. Firstly, that a soldier or soldier’s sons earned the rank through military service – he uses an example, from Suetonius’s live of the Divine Vespasian [Sue. Div. Vesp. 1] that illustrates how Vespasian’s grandfather was a Pompeian veteran who had a son that was of Equestrian status, and whose son, in turn, became Emperor. The second mode of promotion was through being a freedman. Augustus was to employ a great deal of freedmen as secretaries, especially in financial duties [Syme, pg.354]. The natural step up from this process was that the “choice flowers” of the Equestrian ranks could be promoted to the senate (Syme, pg.354). Syme thus labels knights as the “cardinal factor in the whole social, military and political structure of the new State” [Syme, pg.355]. Under Augustus, then, Syme considers the Equestrian order somewhat divorced from the murky politics it may have engaged in during the Republic (primarily in tax gathering and the various dishonesties arising from it) and granted it a new “dignity and usefulness” [Syme, pg.355]. For Syme this part-stratification of the Equestrian order under Augustus was manifest in the practice of giving the Latus Clavus (a mark of senatorial birth) to promising young Equestrians (notably among them, although he decided not to pursue such an end, was the poet Ovid). The result was that loyalty and service now allowed the able of humble origin to “ennoble their family for ever” [Syme, pg.359]. Thus this process allowed Augustus to ensure that the senate was filled with “good, opulent men from the colonies and municipia” [Syme, pg.359]. These men, Syme claims, were the “backbone” of the Augustan faction [Syme, pg.359]. This order of promotion and senatorial establishment reverberated into the provinces as it was now possible to truly make something of oneself - an early Roman incarnation of the American Dream, to put it in crude terms. Syme concludes his chapter by going back to the beginning. He asserts that Augustus was no more than “a small town bourgeois, devoted and insatiable in admiration of social distinction” [Syme, pg.368]. The upshot of Syme’s argument here is that Augustus desired to have the old aristocracy support him, but when it was obvious that would not happen like he may have imagined (many of them were dead, many had supported Antonius) he set about re-creating the aristocracy, outsourcing it, so to speak, and developing it into a new body that owed everything to the system he had set in place.

Thus, this was Syme’s conception of an “Augustan Party”. In search of a balances narrative, I’d now like to pass over the question regarding the veracity of Syme’s argument, assume it sound for the time being, and consider the departure question of who was in this party and why did they support Augustus?

The striking point of Syme’s argument is that initially Augustus had few supporters, indeed the “Augustan Party” was a deliberate creation to fill this gap. The period of civil strife prior to the Augustan Age had much depleted the traditional aristocratic talent pool, leaving any Augustan Party rather empty. As mentioned earlier, Syme considers this problem solved by Augustus’s streamlining of promotion into and above the Equestrian class. The rub of this very deliberate act, Syme contends, was to create a new aristocracy, a group of “novis homines” that would have standing in the Empire yet also support Augustus. It’s perhaps a little crude, but Syme’s sentiments can be echoed by saying that the Augustan party initially contained no-one of real note and eventually contained everyone, with “everyone” representing, of course, the elite only. In summation, then, Syme considers the Augustan Party to comprise of the new aristocracy. This new body consisted of senators and equestrians that owed their status to him. The make up of this new aristocracy, and indeed the creation of it, was very much a product of the depleted aristocracy of the late Republic, Syme claims:

“The old families had been decimated by a generation of civil wars: the sons of the slain were found willing to make their peace with the military dynast. Augustus bent all his efforts to attaching these young ‘nobiles’ to his person, to his family and to the new system” [Syme, pg.368].

Syme is typically interested in depicting Augustus as tyrant, but nonetheless I think the make up of the Augustan Party, that Syme advocates, is now somewhat clearer: Able soldiers capable of promotion to equestrian rank; equestrians themselves capable of achieving senatorial rank through loyalty and service and also, interestingly, the new generation of the old aristocracy - now unable to rely on their forebears and instead reliant on Augustus for status, and so the party consisted of, Syme says, “diverse elements, the most ancient Patrician houses and the most recent of careerists” [Syme, pg.368]. Still, it is important to stress that, for Syme, the aristocracy was new, and was an Augustan creation. He did not force the elite to join his party, but rather created a new elite altogether that was inherently Augustan from its very conception. Syme is also at ends to point out that this new aristocracy was able to rely heavily on the provincial elite for its numbers, a fact that he attributes to Augustus as the “small town bourgeois” [Syme, pg.368] orientated towards his own class. The question thus arises of why These men allowed their crafting into an Augustan party - why did they support him? Syme’s answer is a natural continuation from his argument regarding who was in the party. This new created “Augustan Party” owed its aristocratic status to Augustus, he is, as Syme argues in a later chapter, the “master of Patronage” [Syme, pg.369ff]. That, then, was the reason they supported him - he had been the arbiter of their fate and it was thanks to him that their status has been gained. As Syme states:

“The Princeps controlled access to all positions of honour and emolument in the senatorial career, dispensing to his adherents magistracies, priesthoods and provincial commands. The Quaestorship admitted a man to the highest order in state and society, the cons ululate brought nobility and a place in the front ranks of the oligarchy” [Syme, pg.369].

This situation is how Syme articulates the support for the Augustan Party - they supported him because their status and livelihood depended on it. Syme very much emphasises the dynamic of patronage. Augustus assumed the role of patron to the members of his party and so their dependence on him ensured their support. Although on a grandiose scale compared to earlier times, Augustus was the most powerful patron there had ever been and so the patron relationship as an explanation for support for the Augustan Party remains a fruitful one.

In the almost 70 years since the release of “The Roman Revolution” the concept of an “Augustan Party” has rightfully been debated. The scholarly force and abrasiveness of Syme’s account has ensured its legacy, but nonetheless many have taken issue with his arguments for the existence of any kind of “Augustan Party”. These criticisms cover a vast amount of interpretations of Syme’s work from the veracity of prosopography, to the overwhelmingly Tacitean distaste he has of the Principate. Having discussed Syme’s chapter, it’s now my intention to discuss these criticisms and attempt to see whether or not Syme’s term “Augustan Party” remains a useful one.

One of the most interesting criticisms of Syme is that the context he was writing in (the so-called Inter-War period, between the Two World Wars) has very much coloured his account. This is, of course, the nature of any writing, but the distinction here is that the atmosphere of the 1930s is so very overt that it in someway affects his arguments for the existence of an Augustan Party. One of the startling things read into The Roman Revolution is that Syme’s portrayal of Augustus metamorphosis into “gambler and terrorist, into the most exalted father of the fatherland, Augustus Pater Patriae, invoked comparisons with the dictatorships of Mussolini and Franco, Hitler and Stalin” [Galsterer, pp.2-3]. One doesn’t need to look far to find terms associated heavily with that period, either. For example Syme labels Augustus’s rise to power as being based upon “the seizure of power and redistribution of property by the revolutionary leader” [Syme, pg.2]; he constantly refers to Augustus as the “military dynast” or “tyrant”. On the surface, it’s not difficult to see the parallels between the use of these terms and the atmosphere the book was written under. Syme consistently argues for a picture of Augustus as dictator and despot, which very much broke from previous tradition. When one considers why he perhaps places such vast emphasis on Augustus as negative, it is possible that he was being swayed by his understanding of tyranny, dictatorship and despotism in 1930s Europe. The consequences for this, if it is indeed a just criticism, are that his understanding of how the political process worked during the Augustan age is based heavily upon how the same processes worked in 1930s Europe, which at best leaves Syme guilty of anachronism and at worst throws his entire conception of an Augustan Party into jeopardy. For example, it has been argued that Syme eschewed the old methods of historical interpretation (those based on ideology and constitutions) because they had been dominant in the political discourse that followed the First World War, and instead focused on the individual, as increasingly it was the individual that dominated the world stage – Hitler, Stalin etc. [Galsterer, pg.4]. His goal here would be to reconstruct Augustan politics based on the players involved in it.

The shift of emphasis he employed here is not problematic in itself, but if it was a move influenced by the political processes of the 1930s then it becomes problematic. To elaborate: understanding Augustan Politics with a framework used to understand 1930s European politics is to anachronistically apply a method that is detrimental to the veracity of ones understanding. I think it’s easy to sympathise with this criticism. The 1930s was an immensely thick period of ideology and politics in Europe, and elements of it do seem manifest in Syme’s approach to the Augustan period. Nevertheless, use of such a method by Syme does not necessarily preclude it being useful. The shifted emphasis to the individual in Augustan politics that Syme employed has proven widely influential. It has facilitated discussion regarding the Augustan political processes that might not have happened to the same degree otherwise. For example, his contentions have forced serious discussion on how Augustan politics truly worked. As he stated was his intentions, he has provoked discussion and criticism [Syme, preface, pg.9]. Strictly, then, the criticism is valid. Syme does seem to have allowed 1930s politics to have permeated his work, especially in how he conceives of an Augustan party through emphasis on the individual. While the criticism may call his reasoning into question, it leaves his argument standing. His use of modern political processes to understand Augustan ones is a useful exercise, and as such the idea that an Augustan Party existed remains a useful one.

Closely connected is the criticism of prosopography as a discipline. Syme makes his debt to prosopography clear:

“It will at once be evident how much the conception of the nature of Roman politics here expounded owes to the supreme example and guidance of Münzer: but for his work on Republican family-history, this book could hardly have existed” [Syme, preface, pg.8].

Prosopography is the study of individuals in a collective sense that can facilitate historical understanding that would otherwise be hidden. The method is heavily based on the scant evidence we have for individuals, inscriptional and literary, although usually the former. This method features heavily in Syme’s work, and his whole basis for an Augustan Party is argued upon the evidence prosopography provides. Generally speaking, Prosopography is a useful field. It allows one, as it did Syme, to consider a collective group of individuals and perhaps come up with some historical insight. Syme uses prosopography to paint a picture of Augustan politics as large and connected political family – a party, so to speak. Syme’s employment of prosopography allows him to identify the individuals of Augustan politics and to interconnect them, that is to say that he uses prosopographical evidence to establish a Party for Augustus. As Syme says in the opening line of his chapter on the topic:

“The modest origins of the faction of Octavianus stand revealed in the names of its foundation-members: and subsequent accessions have been indicated from time to time. It grew steadily in numbers and in dignity as Caesar’s heir recruited followers and friends from the camps of his adversaries until in the end, by stripping Antonius, it not merely swallowed up the old Caesarian party but secured the adhesion of a large number of Republicans and could masquerade as a national party” [Syme pg.349]

This is a clear statement of how Syme uses prosopography. He analyses the extant evidence of individual careers and ties their achievements into their involvement in an Augustan Party. An example is that Syme conceives the Augustan party to have only one supporter from a consular family before Augustus marries Livia [Syme, pg.368]. The method at work here is somewhat hidden, but Syme has used prosopography to look for links between Augustus and consular families and came to the conclusion that few links existed prior to his marriage. The problems of how Syme incorporates prosopography into his arguments are vast. Firstly, prosopography is a method that can only be as useful as the evidence it utilises. Although we have much inscriptional evidence, there is easily as much that is lost to us. The gaps could indicate conflicting evidence, but that is unknown to us. Furthermore, prosopography is notably divided in veracity along Republican/Imperial lines [Galsterer, pp.10-11]. An example is that we have almost no inscriptional evidence for the career of Marcus Crassus, the Triumvir and large character of the late Republic, prior to his Spanish proconsulship in 72/71 B.C, despite the fact that he likely spent time climbing the cursus honorum prior to that [Galsterer, pg.10]. On the converse, we know every office held by the Senators Iulius Severus and Lollius Urbicus during the 2nd century A.D, despite them being much more minor characters [Galsterer, pg.10]. That the Augustan age falls right on the “crossroads of republican and imperial prosopography” [Galsterer, pp.10-11] presents us with a problem, for the prosopographical evidence could be somewhat lacking in one respect, but present in others. As such, any argument based on the prosopographical evidence we have for the Augustan age would be tainted. Syme’s argument very much loses some veracity owing to this problem, for if the evidence is lacking then his argument will similarly be left wanting.

Related is how Syme interprets the prosopographical evidence. Much has been made of the “mechanical” [Galsterer, pg.11] understanding of the evidence. Galsterer makes the useful point that “if a Fabius had married an Aemilia and was consul together with a Sempronius Gracchus, this should indicate an alliance among the Fabii, Aemilii and Sempronii. Moreover, if, two generations later, a Fabius and a Sempronius Gracchus were once again colleagues, this would indicate that such an alliance had continued through all this time” [Galsterer, pp.10-11]. Galsterer admits that this may be an overstatement, but I think the rhetorical force of his objection remains quite strong. The lateral way that Syme interprets the prosopography that allows him to conjecture for the existence of an Augustan party is questionable. The work of Christian Meier, “Res Publica Amissa” specifically, has further rejected the idea of straight links between individuals, for Roman politics is far too complex for such alliances, and indeed the factional theory altogether, to endure. An offshoot of this is that Syme overlooks individual agency in order to see the “mechanical” prosopographical links, when indeed the role of the individual and their personal aims and political alliances was surely important in following Augustus. Furthermore, another fault of the prosopographical approach is that it is very much elite oriented. The nature of the evidence it uses – inscriptional – means that other elements of society are excluded because they are not the subject of inscription. On this occasion one of the most obvious omissions is the rank and file of the army. The fact that much of Augustus’s power was military based – and Syme stresses his role as military dictator – makes the omission of the army rank and file as a central element of any Augustan Party somewhat suspicious. Syme does make mention of the army in how he conceives of promotion through the Equestrian class, but that emphasis lies on how such promotion develops a new aristocracy – the army in general is very much left out in “”The Roman revolution”. Syme has remedied this to an extent is more recent work, the “Danubian Papers” specifically, but how the army fits into the conception of an Augustan Party is still not clear.

The criticism of Syme’s use of prosopography is quite convincing, I feel. The problems presented by limited evidence and questionable methods of interpreting that evidence leave Syme’s idea of an Augustan Party quite damaged. That prosopography, as he admits himself, underpins his entire argument means that any weakness in it necessarily means a weakness in his argument itself. In light of this, it would seem that the term “Augustan Party” is somewhat misleading, and not especially useful for really describing Augustan Politics.

Related, again, is the overwhelmingly Republican character of the work. Syme admits himself that Tacitus, Pollio and Sallust are his main literary sources and inspirations, all of them “Republican in sentiment” [Syme preface, pg.7]. The Tacitean quality of the work has been recognized by many. Michael Comber, for example, called Syme and Tacitus the “two great Roman historians” [Comber, pg.214] in an article on the topic. The problem that this presents is that Syme is liable to fall into the same limitations and overt prejudices of those historians, Tacitus especially. As the most Republican of men, Tacitus was very distasteful of the entire Principate, Tiberius most notably. His lack of zeal of the Augustan Age also shone through in the opening parts of his “Annals”, as he briefly describes Rome being subjugated by the first Emperor. The negative focus on Augustus, and the Tacitean method more generally, that Syme readily adopts has some consequences for his argumentation. Syme would have us believe that Augustus created for himself such massive prestige in the lamentable absorption of every available power that the only available career path for the aristocracy was under his aegis. It was through the necessity of his support that the Augustan Party developed. Tacitus found this situation incredibly saddening. A familiar vein running through his works, from the Annals to the Agricola and the Dialogus is that the men of the Republic could be great owing to their skills and talents, which they received great acclaim for. All great men under the Principate were subservient to the greatest man – the Emperor. The Tacitean, and consequently Republican, character of Syme’s work presents a quandary. It obviously creates a very strong bias, but that hardly makes Syme’s theories less powerful, no more than they do that of Tacitus. Rather, I think, they present the historian with something to keep in mind while reading Syme. He wanted his work to truly jostle the established order, and the abrasive qualities of his writing often have one questioning how bias he truly is, yet the quality of his work still shines through these possible indiscretions. The criticism of his work having a Republican bent, much like the criticism that the 1930s permeated much of it, is very much something to be aware of, but ultimately leave the edifice of his theory still standing. The usefulness of the term “Augustan Party” is somewhat affected, to its detriment, by this fact, for it now holds within it not just the influence of the 1930s political process, the problems of prosopography but now also the possible Republican bias inherent in conceiving of its existence.

Assessing whether or not Syme’s use of the term “Augustan Party” is useful is notoriously difficult. The sheer impact of Syme’s work on the topic has lead to his being called “The Emperor of Roman History” [Bowerstock, pp.8-13]. The term can be misleading. For example, using the term “party” seems to be being used somewhat anachronistically, for it relies somewhat on an understanding of more modern political processes. Syme’s characterisation also suffers the same criticism for it seems very much informed by the ferment of 1930s Europe, where Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini dominated the stage. As a consequence, Syme is unapologetically Republican in sentiment, using Tacitus very much as a base and such bias in his assumptions makes one question them. Furthermore, the serious problems that his reliance on prosopography presents are difficult to overcome. The nature of the method as being based on very limited evidence, in scope and possibly number, and also the “mechanical” interpretations that reading prosopography laterally provides have called Syme’s reliance on it into question. These criticisms are quite strong, and as such they make Syme’s conception of an Augustan Party quite weak. In this sense the use of the term “Augustan Party” is certainly not useful, for they make understanding Augustan politics even more difficult than they may be initially. In some respects, though, Syme’s use of the term has been resolutely useful. Much of this reasoning lies in the fact that Syme’s work has been so influential that even in parts where he errs, the sheer fact that he unapologetically posited a theory on the topic has forced the hand of historians ever since to truly think about Augustan politics. It’s been remarked that:

“a classic work is a classic precisely because of its lasting value and its ability to offer at least partial answers to questions that one would not originally foresee” [Galsterer, pg.2].

That sentiment seems very apt when applied to Syme’s work. It’s a testament to how important, and indeed how useful, his use of the term “Augustan Party” is when discussion over it is being set as an essay – almost some seventy years since the book was initially released in 1939. In this respect, then, it’s very easy to consider the “Augustan Party” a useful term, for it has spurned discussion over the intricacies of Augustan politics no end. In concluding, then, it seems that the answer is, as with all elements of Augustan Rome, not entirely simple. In some aspects the term is not useful at all, and indeed is quite misleading, however in another it is vastly useful, stimulating fervent discussion. Thus, the only conclusion I can come to in reference to the departure question is that it’s a little useful and a little misleading, and in some ways that dichotomy altogether renders itself quite useful in the scope of Roman historiography.

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Bibliography:

Ancient:

Cassius Dio, “Roman History”

Suetonius, “Life of Vespasian” in his "Lives of the Caesars"

Modern:

Bowerstock, G, “The Emperor of Roman History”, New York Review of Books (1980) pp.8-13

Comber, M, a review of Luce, T.J and Woodman, A.J, “Tacitus and Tacitean tradition”, Journal of Roman Studies (1996) pp.214-215

Galsterer, H, “Syme’s Roman Revolution after 50 years”, in “Between Republic and Empire”, Ed. Raaflaub, K.A and Toher, M, Oxford (1990)

Syme, Ronald, “The Roman Revolution”, Oxford (1939)

Syme, Ronald, “Danubian Papers”, Bucharest (1971)

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On another note, I'm currently reading some work on Classical Athens and the role of the "bad citizen", which I'll post about soon, I hope.

Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, Where Art Thou?

2009-08-24T11:34:00.024+02:00

I've recently been watching the HBO/BBC TV series ROME (perhaps for the 6th or 7th time, I must admit), and as I mentioned in my "future plans" post, I intended to discuss the portrayal of Marcus Agrippa and how he differs from the historical Agrippa. Therefore, that is the topic I will discuss today.

I should preface this by saying I very much like Rome. I think it's a well written show, with excellent acting, dialogue and set design. Generally the departure from historical fact does not bother me whatsoever, as I can understand why it's done. One such exception is with the character of Agrippa (played by the Irish actor Allen Leech). My plan here is to list the differences between the character in the TV show and the historical Agrippa (as much as one exists), and then discuss why the writers chose to depict Agrippa as they did.

SO...the differences! There are a great number. First of all, let's consider Agrippa's family. In the TV show both Agrippa and Octavian make mention of his "low plebeian" status. It is conjectured (realistically, I believe) that Agrippa's father was a certain Lucius Vipsanius Agrippa, and that they were a family of Equestrian rank.

There is a rather strong focus on Agrippa's low status, as it's used on several occasions to drive forward the narrative. My personal feelings are that it's overemphasised, in order to support the characterisation of Agrippa as a "loyal Lieutenant" and not much else. Plebeian he may be, but he was to ascend to the highest ranks of Roman public life, and he was after all, of sufficient birth to be educated alongside Octavian (which is how they became friends).

Further to this, there is no mention of Agrippa's marriage to Caecilia Pomponia Attica (daughter of Cicero's friend, Atticus) in the early 30s (very much in the shows timeline), and as an offshoot of this there is, of course, no mention of their child born soon after the wedding (Vipsania Agrippina). In the show Agrippa is very much unmarried throughout.

Somewhat related is an affair, depicted in the TV show, between Agrippa and Octavian's sister, Octavia. This is entirely fictional, and serves only as a dramatic device in the show. Although the love affair is finished by Agrippa after Octavian finds out (an example of his being the ultimate Loyal Lieutenant), there are hints that their feelings continue throughout the 30s B.C.E, and again there is no single mention of that fact that the historical Agrippa was both married and a father.

On the topic of his public life, the show, again, fails to mention almost anything. He remains the loyal lieutenant of Octavian, but seems to hold no public office himself. The historical Agrippa entered the Senate as a Tribune of the Plebs (perhaps 43.B.C.E), and served both as Consul (37.B.C.E) and Aedile (33.B.C.E) during the timeline represented by the show, but he is not shown to explicitly hold any of these offices.

On the topic of his character and his abilities, again the character of the TV show differs greatly from the historical Agrippa. It's a well documented fact that Agrippa was an excellent General, and it was through his leadership that Octavian and his armies could establish sole control over Rome. At Mutina, and more specifically Actium, it is Agrippa's military genius that won the day. In the show, he is seen briefly at Mutina, and he's nowhere near Actium (the only mention of him is by a newsreader in Rome reporting the battle).

Agrippa as a great General is barely seen in the TV show, and one must ponder why (more on this later). A few fleeting mentions to his celebrated military talents are all he gets.

The difference in character is perhaps the most striking thing of all, however. The historical Agrippa, through virtue of his accomplishments, was a commanding General, respected and forceful magistrate and strong leader. The Agrippa on the TV show, is rather meek, somewhat bumbling, a little insecure and nothing more than a loyal servant of Octavian. It's also difficult to escape the notion that he's also a little "boyish", in both manner and appearance.

On the topic of the later, Allen Leech does not strike the same robust figure that the busts of Agrippa suggest that he was. While this is not necessarily a hindrance (James Purefoy is not the bull-like man Antony is said to have been, but he plays the role superbly), in combination with the meekness of the portrayal, it's hard to ever believe that the character is Agrippa.

Given the legion of differences, I now ask the question: why?

The matter of Agrippa's family is perhaps the easiest to answer. The series omits many historical figures for the sake of simplicity and smoothness of narrative (Crassus, although dead when the series begins, is never mentioned, Octavia's husband Claudius Marcellus, and their three children, are never never seen, Brutus' wives are never seen - Claudia Pulchra, nor Porcia Catonis, and these are just some of the many historical figures not in the show).

Given the immense complexity of Roman families, allegiances, marriages and so on, it's quite reasonable to expect, for the sake of a cohesive story, that many of them will never appear. Agrippa's family is never mentioned primarily because they were considered "extra". They do not serve the storyline and would therefore just confuse matters, and so they were omitted.

The affair with Octavia was invented for similar reasons, I think. This time is does serve the story (it's dramatic and when Octavian finds out it helps give him leverage in forcing Mark Antony to leave Rome, for Octavia was his wife and she was cheating on him with a "low born Pleb").

As regards Agrippa's public career, his offices are never mentioned for a few reasons. The foremost is that Agrippa plays the role of Lieutenant, and in most cases he's simply an advisor to Octavian, in that respect the character needs no office of his own, for he's not the focus. In most ways it doesn't matter what office Agrippa holds, for his role in the TV show remains the same.

Further to this, is that the second season (the timeline when Agrippa would hold the offices of Tribune of the Plebs, Consul and Aedile) plays thick and fast with history - the many events of the early 30s and squashed or skimmed over somewhat, and so Agrippa's consulship and activities of this time are given short thrift.

The character's lack of great military abilities can also be partly explained in this way. Many of Agrippa's achievements are not mentioned in the show - it basically goes from Caesar's murder, through Philippi and then jumps very much to the later 30s and the struggle between Octavian and Antony near it's conclusion. Agrippa's defeat of Sextus Pompeius in the seas around Italy, as well as his time fighting the Germanic tribes while Governor of Transalpine Gaul are never mentioned - and so there is no opportunity to focus on his military acumen, other than brief mentions after Mutina and Actium (which are relegated from importance because the series cares more for Octavian/Antony and their power struggle than what the "Loyal Lieutenant" Agrippa is up to.

Related to this is why he's depicted as a somewhat meek and bumbling character. Without need for focus on his military achievements, but unable to really remove him from the picture, what role can Agrippa really play? The only answer is really that of advisor, and so immediately he's relegated from the status of the historical Agrippa. Again, though, why so meek? I have a few ideas, but it's still not especially obvious.

Perhaps most obviously, he plays a lover to Octavia, and his bumbling "I would tear down the skies if you asked me to" act allows a certain amount of sympathy to be felt for him, and as a consequence the love affair. He is acutely aware of his lower status throughout the relationship, and this is brought to the fore when it's used to coerce Mark Antony into leaving Rome. In essence, he plays a character who knows his social position and has no ideas beyond his station.

Another idea I've considered is that the character was designed to play foil to Gaius Maecenas, as they both advise Octavian (Maecenas being the darker, more inclined to lies style of advisor and Agrippa the excessively loyal and honest type). I'm not sure how much mileage this idea has, but I think it's valid enough.

After discussing it with my girlfriend a little, she made the interesting observation that Agrippa is required to fill the role as the only "purely nice and honest" character in the show. This may be a case when the most obvious solution is the best one, and as a mode for explaining the very different Agrippa it works very well.

Overall, I think his meekness is a result of his role in the show (a fiercely loyal and honest Lieutenant, not equal to Octavian) and the need for him to be a sympathetic character in both his love for Octavia (a women well above his social status, and he knows it) and his contrast to the more nefariously depicted Maecenas as advisor(s) to Octavian.

It's worth at this point conceding that the creator of the show (Bruno Heller) never intended the show to be 100% historically accurate, but that the aim was to show:

"Much more about how the psychology of the characters affects history rather than simply following the history as we know it".

In this respect, Agrippa is merely a facet of this. He is changed so considerably so that the character's psychology may fit the requirements of the narrative. To me, the change is so drastic, and it's perhaps simply a result of there being too many other psychologies driving the show forward, and so Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa was changed so that his could fit in somewhere.

The show's historical advisor, Johnathan Stamp, adds that the series was more about "authenticity" than "accuracy", but I think in the case of Agrippa especially neither category is fulfilled. The character is definitely not an accurate portrayal of the historical Agrippa, but accuracy has not been sacrificed and authenticity retained, for there is nothing authentic about the character of Agrippa in the show - he's almost pure creation.

I should say that I'm not altogether annoyed by the character of Agrippa in the show (historical accuracy does not always need to be the primary aim of such shows), but simply that I find the vast difference between the character and the historical figure to be curious, and so I was interested in exploring those differences and the reasons for them. In actual fact, I rather like Allen Leech as an actor, and the role of the "new" Agrippa is actually rather likeable in most ways.

I also think it's wise to realise that this small analysis is tainted by the notion that it's impossible to know the "real" Agrippa anyway, and that perhaps commenting on his character is a false enterprise from the off. Nevertheless, I think the historical Agrippa we can infer, grasp or leap at is so substantially different form the character of the TV show, that this endeavour remains thoroughly worth it.

In summing up, I think all I can say is that the driving force behind writing this article was the feeling that the character Agrippa is just not Agrippa. One conjures an image of all classical figures that is quite unique (the Caesar in my mind may be different from the one in in yours, and this in turn is hugely important in the "reception" of historical figures), and so my Agrippa, based on my studies of him and the period more generally, mixed with my own imagination, leads me to believe nothing but the conclusion that "this" Agrippa is an imposter.

Two events of note...

2009-08-24T09:48:00.012+02:00

On the 24th of August 79.C.E Mount Vesuvius erupted, sealing the towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum (among others) under volcanic ash, essentially "pausing" everyday Roman life, which would give us, almost some 2000 years later (1748), one of our most important windows into Roman society. It's difficult to overestimate how important they are to us.

Among the victims was the Elder Pliny, writer of the huge Natural History encyclopedia. Interestingly his nephew, Pliny the Younger (a prolific letter writer) wrote a letter to his friend, Tacitus, detailing the events of that day and his uncle's activities, which has survived. Conventionally numbered Letter 6.16, it ends with the rather haunting line:

"When daylight returned on the 26th—two days after the last day he had seen—his body was found intact and uninjured, still fully clothed and looking more like sleep than death".

August 24th (this time in 410. C.E) was also the date in which Alaric the Goth sacked Rome, setting the Western Empire ever more on it's doomed path. It had been almost 800 years since Rome had been subdued, causing St. Jerome to say (in a letter labelled Letter CXXVII):

"My voice sticks in my throat; and, as I dictate, sobs choke my utterance. The City which had taken the whole world was itself taken".

His words here go somewhere to explaining the magnitude of these events. Rome - traditionally founded in 753 .B.C.E, Master of the world from at least the mid 2nd Century, had fallen.

Arguably the latter event is the more important for where we find ourselves now, but I wonder how many people know of Pompeii, but couldn't say when the Western Empire fell, or who was behind it.

Interestingly, Vesuvius is getting some news coverage, while the sack of Rome gets very little.

On This Day: Vesuvius Erupts.

I should note that the exact date of Vesuvius' eruption is still up for debate. August 24th is usually the accepted date, but some varying versions of Pliny's letter, and also some archeological evidence (clothes, among other things) suggest it was somewhat later - perhaps as much as two months.

A review (of sorts) of a review of Gideon Nisbet's "Ancient Greece in Film and Popular Culture".

2009-08-21T15:33:00.022+02:00

The Bryn Mawr Classical Reviews blog (great for keeping up with newly posted reviews) recently brought my attention to the recent 2nd edition of Gideon Nisbet's "Ancient Greece in Film and Popular Culture".

Having studied under Nisbet at the University of Glasgow, I'm always keen to read his output. During my undergraduate degree, I recall reading a reworking of (what I believe was) his doctoral thesis (Martial's Forgotten Rivals) and enjoying his zesty approach and sense of humour. I've continued my interest in his publications, having read the 1st edition of the work I'm posting about now when it was a released initially a few years ago.

I thoroughly enjoyed that work - I thought it was full of fanboy passion and keen wit for the subject matter, but it also held a remarkable amount of interesting argumentation. The central idea that Greece was always mediated through Rome in both film and culture more generally resonated with me greatly, and even moreso after settling down to watch some of the movies in question.

The 2nd edition has allowed for an updated chapter on the phenomenon that was "300" (released in 2007, after the 1st edition's publication), and given the status of that work, the chapter was absolutely required to make the book relevant.

The review of the new edition is quite positive, generally commenting on the continued worth of the work, which, for me, can be fully summed up in the line:

"Avowing that academics are neither neutral nor outside observers in this area, Nisbet adopts the subjective stance of a scholar-fan toward his material"

Having seen Nisbet lecture, I can confirm that he his perhaps the ultimate "scholar-fan", and it is precisely for this reason that his work is vital and enjoyable. The reviewer (Seán Easton) points out that the work tends to prefer "big ideas" and "provoke" rather than "settle" questions, the resultant conclusion is that this work best serves as an introduction or discussion starter.

I disagree insomuch as I think both the "big ideas" and provoking of questions stems from Nisbet's fanboy wonderment at his subject material, and - having seen him lecture - his having fun with that same material. His writing style is unique and manages to capture his animated nature on paper well, transmitting all the elements I've just mentioned.

I'm yet to read the 2nd edition, but based on the strength of the 1st and combined with my experience thus far with Nisbet's knack for presenting material (I can imagine "300" gave him a lot to worth with), I think I can recommend this work to anyone.

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Seán Easton's review at Bryn Mawr here.

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A few qualifications: I know the term "fanboy" is often considered negative, but I am not using it in that way. I'm using it as the best label for someone who is excited by particular forms of media, and spends a significant amount of time with them. The connotations of being a "Geek" or "Nerd" inherent in the term "fanboy" are also something I'm aware of, and so I use the word deliberately.

Today is the anniversary of...

2009-08-19T14:11:00.007+02:00

Augustus's death. He died on August 19th 14.C.E, at the age of 76 (he was born in 63.B.C.E - Cicero's year as Consul) and by the time of his death had effectively been sole ruler for almost 45 years (beginning after the Battle of Actium in 31.B.C.E, although often his rule is dated from 27.B.C.E, when he was given the title of Augustus and he proclaimed the Res publica restored).

Although it had been coming for quite some time (Tiberius had been effectively sharing his powers, but not his auctoritas for a while), it was still an immense shock to a society and city that had been crafted (nay completely overhauled) in the first Princeps' image.

Augustus himself had been visiting Nola, place of his fathers death, when he died - Suetonius even has it that he died in the same room. Tiberius and Livia were both present and the latter proclaimed Emperor. Suetonius tells us that among Augustus' last words he said:

"If I have played my part well, clap your hands, and dismiss me with applause from the stage"

and with his freshly combed hair (also from Suetonius) he reminded Livia to stay true to their marriage and he peacefully died. It's unknown whether he was applauded off the stage, so to speak, but it's almost certain that, with hindsight, one can say Augustus did indeed play his role of Emperor well.

The Pax Romana that he had initiated, lasted over 200 years after his death, and through his remoulding of the Roman state in his image he had transcended the role of a normal mortal man - embodied in his ascension to the Roman pantheon just immediately after his death (again from Suetonius).

Christian Meier claims in his biography of Caesar claims Augustus had to be an actor, as his aims could never have been achieved unless he could be many things to many people. I happen to agree. It's partly because of this that it's truly difficult to know the real Augustus (as far as one exists).

It's difficult to overstate the impact of Augustus on the Roman state and it's subsequent history and so Requiscat in Pace.

Birthplace of Vespasian?

2009-08-18T12:21:00.008+02:00

A news story that's been doing the rounds internationally recently has thrown up some rather interesting questions regarding the practices of archaeology and as a result, what the readers of news sources want to know about classics and what is simply not newsworthy for the average reader.

That story is regarding the recent discovery of a sumptuous villa near the (reported) birthplace of the Emperor Vespasian. Filippo Coarelli, the leader of the excavation, claimed:

"it was not marked as belonging to Vespasian's family, but its extravagant trappings were an indication of its ownership.

"It's clear that such things could only belong to someone with a high social position and wealth. And in this place, it was the Flavians," he said, referring to Vespasian's dynasty".

This has caused quite the furore in classical circles with the identification of the villa as Vespasian's birthplace, with most commentators considering it a mistaken (or perhaps mislead) identification. Mary Beard in a Times column titled "Vespasian's villa? Don't you believe it", highlighted the general worries of informed commentators:

"It's just a large Roman house of roughly the right date in roughly the right place".

The whole episodes highlights the fact that unless a find can be tied into the icons of the classical past (Emperors or famous men/events) - then people are usually just not very interested. Further to this, the fact that this year is the 2000th since the birth of Vespasian has caused cynical observers to label the find too perfectly timed and the leap to name it's owner too quick and ill thought out.

Beard also mentions the sad fact, which is tied into the above, that despite the advances of modern archaeology and what we can learn from it, there is still, to some extent, an obsession with finding a Vespasian "lived here spot", and in many respects that is a little tragic. When she labels this a "non-story", I don't think she's too wide of the mark.

Nevertheless, if one can remove the fantasy and wishful thinking, the discovery of any large villa should be interesting enough in of itself, for it may contain some previously unknown works, or some painting which may contain hitherto unknown information or evidence - one never knows. For me, at least, the true excitement lies there.

In other, less controversial news, a Roman ship wreck (5 in actual fact) has been found off the coast of the small Italian island of Ventotene (located between Rome and Naples). The ships are thought to be somewhere between 1600 and 1900 years old, which could place them anywhere from the reign of Trajan to the reign of Honorius, Emperor of the Western Empire.

Seemingly well protected by their situation in deep water, the ships have been labelled, rather unoriginally, as "underwater museums". Nevertheless, the discovery of their well preserved cargo - including wine, oil and the popular fish sauce Garum - is quite exciting.

The discovery location has spurred the belief that the ship was engaged in trade between Italy and Rome's African provinces, as it falls on a common trade route. Finds such as these are, of course, not altogether uncommon, but this one is especially well preserved and every discovery hints at new information or evidence, and that makes each one special enough.

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Sources for "Vespasian's" Villa:

The BBC: "Roman Emperor's Villa Unearthed".

Mary Beard's Times Online column: "Vespasian's Villa? Don't you believe it".

Sources for the Roman shipwrecks:

The BBC: "Ancient Roman shipwrecks found".

Some thoughts on David Shotter's "Tiberius Caesar".

2009-08-13T16:27:00.010+02:00

As part of my effort to look at some slightly later periods of Roman history, I recently managed to find and read David Shotter's "Tiberius Caesar", which I found to be quite interesting, and owing to it's brevity, I managed to read it fully over just two sessions.

Shotter's short monograph (the main body of the work constitutes just 80 pages) on the Principate of Tiberius functions as a welcome and useful introduction to the man and his reign. The work is, of course, not meant to be all encompassing, but rather function as a starting point on any study of Tiberius. In that respect the work joins the ever increasing volume of monographs written by respected scholars that is both short enough and simplified enough to appeal to the general reader.

The work is separated into easy digestible chunks, covering Tiberus' early life, his accession to the role of Emperor, his relations to his contemporaries (the senate and Sejanus specifically), his administration and policies and finally his retirement and death. Treating the life of Tiberius under these headings (as opposed to studying his character outright) is, to my mind, the best way to try and understand the man and his reign, without becoming bogged down in gossip or exaggeration.

The analysis therein is generally of a high standard. Shotter's aim is to try and see behind the cruel and sadistic caricature that Tiberius is often portrayed as. Nevertheless, Shotter makes it abundantly clear throughout that Tiberius was somewhat of an awkward man, and the resulting depictions of him and his reign are an offshoot of the fact that he was misunderstood and not trusted by his contemporaries.

The illustrations are generally useful, although not referred to at all often. The images of coinage are fascinating, even if they feel a little tacked on. The stemma showing Tiberius' relations to the aristocracy is highly interesting, and the stemma of the Imperial family similarly so. Maps of both Italy and the Empire in 14 A.D are useful, although the former is clogged with cities never mentioned in the book and would benefit from a little simplification (Capri is discussed when the map is printed, although it's hard to find because of a plethora of towns around it).

The introductory sections are well written, and indicate the difficulty of pinning down Tiberius, as well as highlighting the topics that will be discussed later in the book. One bone of contention is when Shotter mentions the "inevitability" of the Republic's "disintegration" during his scene setting preamble (pg.7). Whether this is true or not is certainly up for debate, although Shotter doesn't mention it. I'm still to read his work on the end of the Republic, and so I will reserve judgement until I read that work and see if Shotter outlines his position more fully.

Shotter makes it clear from the offset that Tiberius was an odd character, especially in comparison to his predecessor, Augustus. He sets the scene for Tiberius' Principate well, indicating the early events that point towards his character (his forced divorce from his family, which he adored, and his reactions being such an example). Interestingly, Shotter also employs some modern psychology (pg.12) which is both welcome and interesting.

Coming out of the introductory sections Shotter makes one very much aware that Tiberius was a very private character, and while not "evil" as he is often painted, he certainly lacked a certain tact in his dealings with his contemporaries. Shotter uses examples to illustrate this, taking Tiberius's inability to hide his ultimate power in both a debate on rowdiness in the theatre and also sitting in court (pg. 30+31).

Shotter does well here to show the "square peg, round hole" nature of Tiberius in Augustan Rome, and not only the reluctance of Augustus to select him as a successor, but also the reluctant acceptance of it by Tiberius himself. All the while, Shotter manages to keep the readers conception of Tiberius away from the popularly slanderous ones, which is admirable.

One of the main focus' of the monograph is on the workings of the Imperial family, and especially the increasing factionalisation of it. This is evident in the fact that Shotter has two chapters named "Tiberius and the family of Germanicus" and "Sejanus" respectively. In the former Shotter makes much of the tension between the Claudian elements of the family (Tiberius himself, as well has his mother and Augustus' widow, Livia) and the Julian ones (Germanicus and his family). The discussion is light but fruitful, and serves to highlight the family politics of the period which Tiberius sincerely disliked.

The Sejanus chapter continues this discussion insomuch as it shows how Sejanus played Tiberius against Germanicus and his wife, Agrippina (especially the later), and how the increasingly factional nature of the Imperial family played into Sejanus' hands. Again the discussion is light, but very useful in understanding Tiberius and his role.

Shotter, by this point, has made his readers quite aware that Tiberius, if a little bumbling in his relationships, private and political, is not the deviant he is oft depicted as. Much effort is made by shotter to see behind the "dark hand" of Tiberius (pg.44) and that is a thoroughly worthy element of the work. On that topic, the later sections of the book, which correspond to Tiberius' later life, are refreshing.

Shotter pays little heed to rumours of sexual deviancy, rather he points out the relative modesty of the villa on Capri and mentions only once the skin condition that Tiberius exhibited in this period, and concluding that it was going around at the time, and not specific to Tiberius (pg.67). This is emblematic of Shotter's whole approach, as Tiberius skin condition and tales of it are intricately related to the stories of his perversions and maliciousness while in retirement.

The conclusions of the work are, in my opinion, decidedly fair. Shotter depicts Tiberius as a slightly tragic figure, one undeserving of how he is usually conceived. Shotter prefers to focus on Tiberius as an excellent administrator, a reluctant Princeps and someone who was ultimately uncomfortable in Augustan Rome, the two latter of which contributed significantly to how his Principate is conventionally understood to be negative.

Ultimately, Shotter calls Tiberius' reign a "stepping stone" (pg.80), that illustrated that Augustan policy could continue after Augustus and that essentially Augustan Rome could be Augustusless and still function. Arguably Tiberius unwittingly set the tone for the reigns of the later Julio-Claudians through his inability to hide his powers, but Shotter makes much effort to show that this was not from any active malevolence on Tiberius' part, but just his lack of tact. I agree with Shotter when he considers Tiberius' rule to both symbolise the continuation of Augustan Rome, but also it's inevitable consequences.

Like most of these such works, the book contains no referencing, but has a useful, if short, bibliography with recommended further reading. It also has a useful glossary of Latin terms, although the book itself is especially light on using them. Two useful sections are also tacked on at the end. One is a discussion of the primary sources for Tiberius' life and the other a brief discussion on numismatics.

The latter is short but interesting (it ties in nicely with the illustrations throughout the work, usually at the end of chapters, of coinage from Tiberius' reign) while the former is essential reading. Shotter summarises the inherent problems with Valleius Paterculus, Cassius Dio and Suetonius quite well, but it is in his short discussion of Tactitus that some excellent material can be found, which is perhaps expected considering Shotter's other extensive work on Tactitus.

I believe Shotter depicts Tiberius as the quintessential "Tacitean" Emperor. Tacitus was a senator with very strong Republican sentiments and so Tiberius' depiction in Tacitus' "Annals" is quite negative, but not excessively so. Tacitus exerts much energy showing how Tiberius had a terrible relationship with the senate, and in this respect Tiberius is the worst "Tacitean" Emperor - for he lacks the tact to deal with the senate effectively, and as a result his autocratic power is shown in the worst possible light. Tacitus longed for the Republic when the senate was so vital, and in Tiberius inability to deal with it correctly, he illustrated it's essential pointlessness under the Principate, and so Tacitus could do nothing but depict Tiberius negatively.

Admittedly, some of these thoughts are my own, but they are derived from Shotter's highly interesting discussion of Tacitus as a source.

Shotter's work is an interesting and thoughtful introduction to Tiberius. He admirably avoids the caricature, and rather seeks to understand the real Tiberius, who was altogether a rather more tragic and uncomfortable figure. One retains an overwhelming feeling of Tiberius' awkwardness, but also as a sense of sympathy for the man and his situation. Generally then, Shotter has given us a fair appraisal, and as much a taste of Tiberius' reign as such a short introduction can allow.

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Relevant bibliography: Shotter, D, "Tiberius Caesar", Routledge (2004)

Some brief further thoughts on Lucan.

2009-08-10T20:07:00.004+02:00

It occurred to me this past week, after my previous post, that Lucan was extraordinary in one way (many, actually, but this post is related to just the one) - he died extremely young (age 25 - 39-65 C.E - as a result of the Pisonian Conspiracy against Nero).

This means, in contrast to most of our other extant classical authors (Cicero, Caesar and Vergil, among many others), that he wrote such a mature work, The Pharsalia, as such a young man. Vergil composed the Aeneid in his later life, most of Cicero's great writing comes from his later years, and the same with Caesar (indeed some of his youthful compositions were suppressed by Augustus). That Lucan composed the Pharsalia before his 25th year was a remarkable achievement.

This is furthered when one realises the possibility that the work may have been published in parts, and thus begun that publication well before Lucan's 25th birthday. In this respect Lucan really is unique in the classical corpus.

Typically, writing was the concern of older senators with time on their hands or political ends in mind, which may explain why our extant work usually comes from writers in their "golden" age and not when they are much younger.

Back to Lucan, there is, of course, the question of whether, had he lived, would he have produced a "greater" work (or works) that would have eclipsed the Pharsalia, and as a result reduced the status of the latter to a more immature work. That said, the Pharsalia is a wonderful piece of poetry, and regardless of the work an older Lucan may have produced, but never could, it still stands high among the extant works for content and style, perhaps moreso for the fact that it was completed not by a Cicero, Caesar or Vergil at the height of his powers, but by a young man who had many years of artistic development ahead of him.

Lucan's "Pharsalia".

2009-08-04T21:27:00.009+02:00

The following is an (almost) unedited essay written during the honours years of my masters. The topic is Lucan's "epic" poem Pharsalia, which covers the Civil War between Caesar and Pompey. The focus of the essay (the set question, in actual fact) was as follows:

“What difficulties do you think Lucan faced in writing an epic on recent history and how well do you think he coped with them?”

Generally speaking, I still quite like the essay, although re-reading it, I'm not all that convinced I answered the question specifically, but rather gave a summary of scholarship on the topic. In that respect it's not an exceptionally original piece, but I do recall giving it some serious thought, and the Pharsalia remains one of my favourite works of literature from the classical world.

Despite some faults (which I've decided not to rectify), I think it's an interesting topic, and my short essay goes someway to discussing it.

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The difficulties that faced Lucan in the conception and production of his Civil War were, to my mind, legion. Writing a little more than a century after the civil war fought between Caesar and Pompey, Lucan would be presented with the problem of crafting a work of rhetorical ars about such a well known, pivotal and relatively recent period of history. If and how Lucan reconciled art with historical fact is the subject of this short essay.

It is my hope to summarise at least some of the quandaries Lucan faced in crafting his epic poem and to generate a personal opinion on how well he dealt with them. To do this I intend to utilise modern scholarship, which, given the indecisive nature of Lucan and how to conceive him (artist? Rhetorician?), is at times problematic. Nevertheless, I believe wandering the minefield of theories and perhaps never finding an ideal one brings one closer to the poem, a mode of understanding I hope will become clear as this essay progresses.

One of the most obvious problems Lucan encountered would be how to write an epic - not a historical treatise - on such a recent period of history and one so well known, no less. Reconciling his artistic vision with historical fact would be a major hurdle.

Frederick Ahl in his excellent work Lucan: An Introduction posits the idea that Lucan overcomes this problem with the simple but elegant solution of sticking to the history (Ahl, pg.71). Ahl understands Lucan’s narrative as following the history for a reason, namely that his adherence to historical fact gives his non-historical embellishments (such as his characterisation and unique rhetorical colouring of events) some force (Ahl, pg.70).

Ahl goes on to say that Lucan makes the decision not to dispute the history to suit his ends because he has other avenues available that allow him to retain his vision. Ahl believes that Lucan uses an exploration and embellishment of motive to communicate his message instead. Conceding that he can’t deny history that has became canon to reinforce his pointed message about, for example, Caesar, Lucan can re-examine Caesars internal and personal motives. Doing so allows an air of legitimacy to surround Lucan’s embellishments in his characterisation of Caesar as a destructive force (Ahl, pg.70).

Ahl continues by declaring:

“History is the raw material of the Pharsalia, not its purpose…It allows Lucan to give the semblance of reality to what he describes, a factual underpinning of his vision which makes the vision itself very hard to refute… [It’s] as much a means to an end as is Virgil’s use of myth…Thus Lucan’s rejection of certain epic conventions both enhances the illusion of fidelity to fact and at the same time allows the poet to manipulate fact to his own ends” (Ahl, pg.72)

So for Ahl Lucan is presented with a problem in deciding to write about the civil war, for it is such a recent chunk of history. Furthermore the enormous effect of it has ensured that it remains well known. Colouring this accepted historical narrative with his specific vision was Lucan’s aim and Ahl thinks to do so he retains the historical (public) fact and instead decides to explore the personal (private) motives of his protagonists in order to serve his vision. For example rather than re-telling the battle of Pharsalia with Caesar a monster he makes the internal motives of Caesar speak to his destructiveness and monstrosity.

As a coping mechanism I must concede that this is quite an interesting one and certainly with some merit. Focusing on the motives of his protagonists (which are open to embellishment and conjecture) - instead of the changing the history to explain how destructive the civil war was and how the evils of Caesar and the ineffectiveness of Pompey that lead to it - is an intelligent strategy. Given the overwhelming portrait of civil war as unnatural and monstrous without any absolute departures from historical fact apparent in the civil war it seems fair to understand Lucan as overcoming this particular problem quite well.

There are, however, some parts of the text where Lucan embellishes the history. The necromancy of book 6 for example serves a literary purpose but lacks a historical basis. It’s clear he uses this prophetic narrative for a purpose - to hint at the future - and in doing so doesn’t deny the history but rather festoons it with artistic force and verve - all ultimately to serve his purpose.

It can be charged that he manipulated his historical characters to fit his ends, making them essentially of his own invention. To counter this I feel Ahl would say something along the lines of he wasn’t denying the historical characters but rather focusing his attention on one aspect of their personas - Caesars malevolence, Pompey’s indecision in the face of it and the moral fortitude of Cato. Doing this allows him to create characters in his vision that have roots in historical fact - a parallel use of characterisation to fit his purposes. I think this is a nice move from Lucan - he can simultaneously confirm the historical Caesar - or an aspect of him - while fashioning his own credible version.

Related to my preceding point, but a bit more pragmatic, is the question of how Lucan could keep the reader interested in something so well known long enough to communicate his bleak vision?

His primary mode of overcoming this is his use of apostrophe, paradoxical epigrams and literary stalling. Susan Braund in her introduction to her translation of the work explains Lucan’s use of delay or obstacle (Braund, pg.47). She uses the opening to the poem as an example, arguing that the criticism Lucan receives for the constant reiteration and paraphrasing of Civil War is Bad in the introduction is invalid for the stalling provided by such use of language is exactly the desired effect. Forcing pause gives the reader a reason to consider what Lucan is saying and to feel its impact more roundly.

Similarly, as Braund continues, his use of paradoxical maxims such as the infamous “mighty structures collapse in on themselves” (Lucan, 1.81) force pause and reflection. As she concludes: “Lucan uses this technique to make the audience stop and confront the issue. He has no interest in wafting us swiftly, mellifluously along” (Braund, pg.48).

This stalling pervades his use of imagery to: “Rising from the ocean more slowly than eternal law summoned him” (Lucan, 7.1). Here the slow dawning of the sun symbolises Lucan’s desire for the reader to stop and consider the coming horrors - in this case the Battle of Pharsalus. M.P.O Morford in The Poet Lucan: Studies in Rhetorical Epic agrees with Braund’s assessment of Lucan’s use of apostrophe, in particular emphasising its rhetorical basis (Morford, pg.70).

I think this conflict between epic story and Lucan’s desire for us to truly think about it - between stalling and telling, so to speak - further symbolises the poem as civil war itself - something I intend to talk about later and a line of argument supported by Jamie Masters in his Poetry and Civil War in Lucan’s Bellum Civile.

Arguably this may be modern deconstructionist folly but I still consider it an attractive argument. In providing a vision of the civil war that reflects the history but forces a reappraisal of it on his own terms Lucan as succeeded in tangling with recent history through epic to quite some degree.

How to grapple with this epic tradition was yet another problem that Lucan had to overcome. With Virgil having set the standard of epic how was Lucan to deal with this ideal?

Given his pervading motif that the civil war was a human fault and its responsibility was mans, using the Gods as a mechanism for propelling his narrative was troublesome because human responsibility becomes diminished. Furthermore, unlike Virgil, Lucan deals with the recent past and this presented the question of how he could insert Gods into a historical narrative so close in chronology to himself and so far away from the age of myth that Virgil wrote about?

The short answer is that he removes them completely. That is to say he removes the divine machinery that normally permeates epic and instead leaves the emphasis for moral responsibility on human shoulders rather than simply the will of the Gods. Indeed the civil war is famously bereft of any divine machinations. Ahl argues that Lucan “had to expel the Olympians from Pharsalia to achieve the picture he desired, to bring moral issues to the foreground” (Ahl, pg.69).

W.R Johnson in the interesting study Momentary Monsters also considers Lucan’s ejection of the Gods as skilful and required (Johnson, pg.9). Ahl and Johnson reach a point of collusion in that they both consider Lucan’s heavy use of fate and fortune as a replacement for the Gods (Ahl, pg295; Johnson, pg.16-17).

Ahl interprets the use of fate and fortune as a way to explore moral positions (Ahl, pg.295). With the Gods now gone the narrative of history can be attributed to men. As the characters make choices to court fate/fortune or surrender to them then we glimpse their moral interior. For example, Caesar willingly courts fortune making the moral choice his and the responsibility for the consequences his too.

I’m not sure how much to trust in Ahl’s assessment here. Even if Caesar is to court fate or fortune the moral decision still seems somewhat external to him as fate is immutable. It’s almost as if Ahl’s argument seems sound but becomes shaky when the difficult notion of fate is introduced. Nevertheless the basic argument remains an attractive one to me even if it becomes bogged down at points.

A more solid, I think, approach comes from Johnson. He too considers fate and fortune as replacing the tradition divine machinery of epic but considers the effect of doing so to be slightly different.

Johnson posits the theory that Lucan replaces the divine machinery with a broken machine (Johnson, pg.16-17). This broken machine is Lucan’s confusing use of fate and fortune. Johnson believes that Lucan has no set system for the two, indeed they remain as liquid throughout the poem.

Johnson uses an example from book two to illustrate his point:

“..and bound himself in fates eternal chain; or whether fickle fortune leads the dance; nothing is fixed and all things come by chance”

Johnson asks if fate can be lead by fortune and if chance rules all the how are we to conceive of fate and fortune? He concludes that the poem contains “an erratic, violent feeling that oscillates between the two poles of fortune and fate and finds no equilibrium” (Johnson, pg.8).

Johnson considers this conflict central to the poem, arguing that it is symbolic of the poem as a civil war itself: it is unsure which side to pick and what definitions to go for and as a consequence is torn by the two (Johnson, pg.16-17).

I find Johnson’s argument quite remarkable. Perhaps it is to wander in with the goggles of modern scholarship but the explanation of Lucan’s dropping of the Gods out of necessity and replacing them with such an eloquent but paradoxically discordant system renders itself quite believable to me.

That said, dropping the Gods from the epic equation still leaves Lucan with some other problems. Ahl argues that the rejection of the Gods means that Lucan is left with no traditional way of explaining the natural forces, nor how his characters take on certain moral tones and traits based upon their grappling with them.

Ahl continues by using the example of Cato in the desert in book nine as an illustration of the problems this causes. Lucan needs to stress the Herculean stoicism of Cato as a foil to the overwhelming destructive force that is Caesar and so he must find a method that excludes the Gods. For example, Cato cannot battle a dragon or a serpent to display his virtue for this use of myth would undermine Lucan’s seemingly apparent aim of making the civil war the full responsibility of man.

Ahl suggests that Lucan’s answer in putting Cato under the peril of snakes, and how his virtue eventually ensures he lives, is a little contrived, he claims that they were “real enough to have zoological names [but] fanciful enough to be preposterous” (Ahl, pg.74). In other words: just a little too much fantastic for the tone Ahl detects elsewhere in the poem.

Ahl believes that Lucan has fallen between two extremes (Ahl, pg.72). In annihilating the divine propaganda of Caesar (divine heritage etc) and rejecting the Gods from his epic he’s caught in a catch 22. This is because he can’t use such techniques to elevate Cato. So he deals with the problems posed by having no Gods, but it’s not perfect. The snake episode reads as a little forced.

So it seems to me that Lucan’s rejection of the Gods as an answer to the problem of how to lay responsibility for the war at the feet of men works in some respects for his epic, but not in others. Although Ahl concedes that Lucan usually overcomes the hurdles of having no Gods (Ahl, pg.74), he still occasionally fumbles. As he was bucking a well established tradition I think it’s not unrespectable to say that his inventiveness is occasionally a little flat.

Although this short essay means much must be excluded there is another theory I wish to discuss: that of Jamie Masters in his Poetry and Civil War in Lucan’s Bellum Civile. Masters put forward the - intrinsically modern - theory that Lucan dealt with his subject matter by allowing his poem to be consumed by it. That is to say: the civil war becomes civil war and in that sense Lucan transcends the problem of writing about such recent history by recreating it in the present of the text.

Masters thinks that Ahl has smoothed over Lucan’s politics a little too much and see the poem as a little more jagged. He construes it as about civil war but also a civil war itself (Masters, pg.10). He considers Lucan fraught with allegiances that give rise to conflict within the text.

Masters claims that “Lucan is Caesarean in his ambition but Pompeian in his remorse. The Pompeian in him condemns Caesar but the Caesar in him condemns - kills - Pompey” (Masters, pg.10).

Masters figures this conflict as being illustrated by Lucan’s ambition to tell the story of a bloody civil war (in this analogy, the Caesar) yet reluctant to explore it - fond of apostrophe and weak in the face of evil (the Pompey) (Masters, pg.10).

So, in essence Lucan responds to dealing with recent history by playing it out metaphorically within his epic.

It’s a challenging theory that Masters submits, for sure. The problem I have with it is that it is quite blatant in its reading between the lines, so to speak. It puts motive and purpose into Lucan that is perhaps not as evident as Masters would like. Nonetheless it’s an interesting idea and if we accept it as being Lucan’s aim then it’s quite masterful as a technique to overcome the problems of writing epic on such a recent period of history. Whether to tow this line or merely consider it a product of modern scholarship imposed on Lucan I’m genuinely unsure.

Shadi Bartsch in the study Ideology in Cold Blood: a Reading of Lucan’s Civil War, raises the point that more modern scholars tend to ascribe the belief to Lucan that his civil war was civil war and that the poem, for them “preserves the unconventional premises of its subject matter: evil without alternative; contradiction without compromise; civil war without end” (Masters, pg.259, Bartsch, pg.6-7).

In essence this school of thought considers Lucan to have no ideology, making him a sort of nihilist. Whether to believe this or the other side Bartsch mentions is a difficult question for they believe he has an ideology: that man is at fault for the civil war. Like much with Lucan the conflict here is difficult to resolve. Bartsch thinks trying to understand the poem through a juxtaposition of these two ideas is the way forward (Bartsch, pg.7).

I think sitting on the fence is a sensible position here, despite my thoughts that the latter camp seems the more attractive owing to the problems posed by deconstructionist modern scholarship (I think it imposes a will upon Lucan that I can’t comfortably agree with). Nevertheless, I think adopting either position still render Lucan an able manipulator of his troublesome subject matter.

These, then, are some of the main problems I believe Lucan encountered in writing about the civil war. To the greater extent I consider him to have coped with them quite well. He grappled with recent history by sticking to it and exercising his puppetry of his characters behind the scenes, in the realms of motive and morality, to communicate his vision. In the process he pragmatically dispensed of any epic tradition that couldn’t accommodate him - the rejection of the Gods being an example.

Johnson argues this problem (or criticism) of rejecting epic tradition comes primarily from the fact that Lucan is not Vergil (Johnson, pg.85) and indeed “epic changed in terms” (Johnson, pg.87). In Johnson’s eyes flying in the face of epic convention is not strictly a problem for Lucan as it was a required step, not a fault. Nevertheless I think he overcomes the problems it still poses quite well. I believe it best to agree with Ahl when he says “successes outnumber failures” (Ahl, pg.74) and consider Lucan’s ability to cope with writing an epic on recent history resilient, steely and, in general terms, quite successful.

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Relevant bibliography:

Ancient:

Lucan, "Pharsalia", alt.title: "The Civil War", trans. Braund, Susan, H, Oxford (1999)

Modern:

Ahl, F, "Lucan: an Introduction", Ithaca (1976)

Bartsch, S, "Ideology in Cold Blood: A Reading of Lucan’s Civil War" Harvard (1997)

Johnson, W.R, "Momentary Monsters", Ithaca (1997)

Masters, J, "Poetry and Civil War in Lucan’s Bellum Civile", Cambridge (1992)

Morford, M.P.O, "The Poet Lucan: Studies in Rhetorical Epic", Oxford (1967)

Roman Holiday.

2009-08-01T10:30:00.012+02:00

As mentioned below, I recently was in Rome on holiday. I've visited many times before, and so I had only some small goals with regards to visiting historical sites. In actual fact I spent most of the holiday showing my girlfriend around (her first visit) and sometimes forcing upon her visits to places of historical interest.

This post is on that particular topic. In an attempt to stay thematically related to some of my older posts, this one is to be about Augustus. When in Rome I visited both the Ara Pacis and the Mausoleum, of which the latter I would like to speak about.

Although the Mausoleum is closed and regrettably hidden by construction barriers around it's full circumference, it's possible to find a few vantage points that can afford one the pleasure of seeing it. The building is in a rather unfortunate state, and while it should really be one of the central attractions in the city, it's actually rather forgotten. Nevertheless, I enjoyed seeing it anyway.

I derived particular pleasure from the fact that one can still see the holes near the main entrance that were originally used to mount the Res Gestae upon the mausoleum. Given the importance of this document, being able to see these holes gives one the ability to imagine the majesty of the mausoleum as it was after Augustus' death, and despite the general decay of the entire structure, that makes the visit worth every second. I have attached two pictures of the mausoleum to this post, one taken from from afar (it's as close as one can get these days) and another taken, using some considerable amount of sneaking about, showing a close up of the holes used to mount the Res Gestae. (Clicking on the pictures will make them full size).

Almost directly beside the mausoleum is the Ara Pacis Augustae (the Altar of Augustan Peace), which houses that very important and interesting piece of sculpture. What I found particularly interesting, though, was the building designed by Richard Meier to house it. Unexpectedly, I found that on one side of the building (appropriately the one facing the mausoleum) is the entire Res Gestae engraved elegantly on a single wall. Needless to say I was delighted to see it, and proceeded to take pictures for my own enjoyment/records and to post them here for those interested.

Given the importance of the Res Gestae as a historical document, I was very happy to see it, in it's entirety, somewhere in Rome, especially so given it's location. Sadly it's almost entirely overlooked (visited less than the Ara Pacis, which is usually quiet, and quiet enough for people to come here for peaceful lunch, as one of my pictures demonstrates), but that nevertheless allowed me some peaceful time to study the engraving and take these pictures.

Clicking on the pictures will render them larger, and ergo make the Res Gestae entirely readable, for those with some Latin. Failing that, I recommend, in book form, the P.G Brunt and J.M Moore translation, and if that is impossible the Thomas Bushnell version available online here. Having the English versions in companion with my pictures of the Latin text should make it very readable.

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Permissions and relevant bibliography:

Bushnell, Thomas, "Res Gestae" available at the Internet Classics Archive. (Copyright 1998, Thomas Bushnell, BSG. This translation may be freely distributed, provided the copyright notice and this permission notice are retained on all copies.).

Brunt, P.G and Moore, J.M, "Res Gestae Divi Augusti: The Achievements of the Divine Augustus", OUP (1967).

Some thoughts on John W. Humphrey's "Ancient Technology".

2009-07-24T21:01:00.011+02:00

As mentioned in my future plans post, I have recently been reading John W. Humphrey's "Ancient Technology". I've long considered this particular area a weakness in my all round knowledge of Classical History, and searching out this work was a conscious effort to plug that gap. Generally, owing mainly to the quality of Humphrey's assessment, I think I have succeeded.

As part of the series "Greenwood guides to historic events of the ancient world", the work, perhaps rather predictably, begins with a series foreword by editor Bella Vivante. Given the status of the book as accessible to the general reader, this foreword is quite necessary, but I must confess as someone quite well versed in the classics, I find these forewords a bit of a bore. Essentially the thrust of this one, like most others, is a justification of classical studies.

Considering the decline of classics in schools, I understand the need to defend the discipline to the general reader, and in that respect the foreword is reasonably well written and informative. Nevertheless, it's not why I picked up the book.

Humphrey's begins with a rather snappy and interesting foreword, explaining the background behind the book, introducing the topics to come and suggesting methods of attacking the material within. I found his introductory remarks extremely useful, as they implore the reader to consider, to my mind, two things: Firstly, to consider all elements of ancient technology in context, that is to say - one must forever try not to apply modern standards to classical times - this thought is prevalent throughout the work, especially in the last chapter.

Secondly, he stresses the long term impact of technology, and in particular wants the reader to appreciate that all breakthroughs are based on ideas and inventions that precede them, essentially that where we are now is merely the peak of an ever growing pyramid of technological advances, even seemingly tiny ones.

An interesting device that Humphrey's uses to display the relative explosion in technological advances in the past 3000 years (when compared to the lengthy existence of humans) is to compress 500,000 years into one single year. The result is that on Jan 16th man can make simple tools without any standardisation of form, and then it takes to December 2nd for this to finally happen. Settled life did not begin until the 25th, the Greek alphabet was appeared as 01:40 on the 30th and man went to the moon at 11:30pm on the same day (pg. 10-11).

This compact and easily understood explanation is characteristic of Humphrey's throughout the book, and in helping set everything into context, it is utterly invaluable.

The rest of his introductory sections are also useful and interesting, not to mention expertly methodological. In particular, I liked his section on the problems of literary sources for technology - I found it illuminating and thoughtful.

One thing that is immediately clear as one exits the opening sections is that there is no referencing (a common trend), and while irritating to the academic reader, the work is also aimed at the general reader. That said, this is more than made up for by the copious other useful items added to the end of the work (which I'll mention later).

The remainder of the book is organised into sections, each related to a particular technological field, the topics cover: food and clothing; water, shelter and security, transportation and coinage, recordkeeping and timekeeping and crafts. Generally speaking the organisation into these sections make the work accessible, and prevents it from getting stale. Each section is swift yet detailed.

One of the elements constantly reinforced (even at this point) is the idea that simple devices can have many (perhaps unforeseen) future applications (pg.34) and so Humphrey's urges the reader to be aware of this fact. This is particularly important in the final chapter.

Throughout the work Humphrey's manages to employ a number of highly interesting, tart explanations and comparisons that really help colour the readers understanding of ancient technology. For example, in discussing sieges, he mentions that attacking armies would attempt to poison water supplies to the besieged town using corpses, and he immediately informs the reader that even biological warfare had it's roots in antiquity (pg.35-36). The work in general has a great ability to skim the fat and get to the point of things, often with stark and interesting devices such as this.

Another example is when Humphrey's compares the Oedipus myth to modern road rage (pg.78). While humourous when taken lightly, these brief explanations also serve to reinforce one of the books main points: that all modern technology can be traced back, and that everything is the sum product of what has come before. In this way, Humphrey's utilises these little comparisons to maximum effect.

Somewhat related to this is Humphrey's wonderful explanations of Latin and Greek terminology, where he often gives not just a translation and explanation, but also etymology of the word in question. Some good examples include one that arises from a discussion of the importance of salt (pg.76). Humphrey's outlines the the Via Salaria, that left Rome towards the salt deposits, and the salarium - the yearly allowance given to soldiers so that they could purchase salt - and how, through over 2000 years, this word is the root of our modern word "salary". His explanation is delightful.

Another example of this is the Spanish Balearic Islands, who got their name via the Greek word "baleareis" (to launch) and the Latin word Ballistae (projectile weapons) and the fact that the inhabitants of this area were renowned for their fighting style using these methods (pg.65). It seems there is some debate around the etymology in this case (some of our sources believe the word has Phoenician roots), but Humphrey's provides a valid and interesting explanation. These are just a few instances - the book is literally crammed full of interesting facts, reported in a vivid and lively manner.

Continuing in this style, Humphrey's manages to expose a few common misconceptions, for example that the pyramids were too advanced to be built by humans of that period (he proves that the technology was relatively simple, pg.55). He also challenges the image of Roman aquaducts as the primary source of water to the city, giving ample evidence that they were, in fact, the least common supply method (pg.44).

One of the slightly darker notions that Humphrey raises is the fact that both Classical Athens and Imperial Rome were financially driven by their mineral wealth (at Laurion and Rio Tinto, respectively), and that this mineral wealth, which kick started and supported them so much was effectively brought at the price of countless deaths (pg.108). The dead were, of course, slaves. That the wealth of these mines helped drive technological development is a dark fact that Humphrey is deeply aware of, and explains well.

The work does, however, have a few weaknesses. Some arise from slightly hazy statements, and one or two from poor sentence structure.

One example is that Humphrey's, when remarking on the Roman pride for their decimal system, mentions that Centurions commanded 100 men, but he fails to mention that this changes substantially in the Later Republic and especially after the Marian reforms (dropping below 100, and levelling out at around 80 - although the Centurions kept their names).

Another such occasion is when he mentions the axle blades of the chariot, especially with regards to the Gauls using them (pg.72) but he fails to qualify his statements here, which is bizarre given his extensive experience in archaeological field research, because there is absolutely no archaeological evidence for the existence of these weapons. I found this a particularly strange episode.

A case of poor sentence structure arises when Humphrey's is talking about the Emperors commissioning the building of enormous bath complexes (thermae) and he mistakenly includes Agrippa, who was never Emperor by any definition, among the list of dedicators (pg.48). The sentence is as follows: "Thermae, huge bathing complexes donated by the emperors to benefit the general population of the city. Three had been erected in Rome by the end of the first century C.E.: those of Agrippa and Nero in the Campus Martius, and that of Titus just east of the Colosseum". It could do with some simple editing, as it's misleading as it is.

Humphrey's also seems quite sure of the purpose of Hadrian's wall (pg.64), when in fact there is considerable doubts of what it's intended purpose actually is, especially considering the fact that it's almost never mentioned in our literary sources. Highlighting the academic debate would have been desirable, but Humphrey's makes no mention of it.

Finally, although this particular criticism is a tad unfair. The work is almost entirely focused on the Mediterranean, and while Humphrey's concedes this in his preface (claiming the limits of his own knowledge, and space constraints as the reasons why), it's perhaps a little unfortunate, as a treatment of ancient technology must really consider the influences of many disparate sources had on each other to be truly useful. In this respect, the title of the work is perhaps a little misleading and it may be better understood as a work on the Ancient Technology of Mediterranean Cultures.

Moving towards the end of the book, the final chapter is an exceptionally clear one. Arguing against putting modern perspectives of expectation onto ancient technological advances (he refutes the whole question of why the ancients didn't have an industrial revolution), and outlining why exactly classical civilisations did not such a revolution (a culmination of social attitudes towards manual labour, technology and the supreme interest in land and agriculture) he ties of the book quite nicely with stressing the fact that all technological advances are built upon, and that we cannot criticise the ancients for never making the leap to industrial organisation, when we have used the technological advances handed down to us in such terrible ways. Ending the work on this note brings back acute focus to the idea that all advances, no matter how small, have consequences in the future, and rounds the book off quite nicely.

The final sections of the book are a triumph, in my opinion. Humphrey's includes a large list of "primary sources" detailing all the evidence for the technology described within the book, and they are extremely interesting and accessible. He also includes a good glossary, and an extensive bibliography complete with comments on each entry - a welcome addition. Another feature is a recommendation of internet sites worth visiting and also video resources. In combination all these sections make the book an invaluable reference guide, and as a stepping stone to further research.

The work, then, is generally a great success. It's concise, interesting and well organised. The few faults it does have, of which the Agrippa confusion I hope will be rectified in the future, are easily outweighed by it's considerable good points. It stresses the importance of perspective, and in many ways gives one a greater understanding of the human journey from caveman to modern man, and how each small discovery was used and then built upon to get us where we are today. Combined with the witty and readable style, I consider it to be an excellent guide to the topic of both ancient technology and the development of modern humans.

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Relevant bibliography: Humphrey, John W, "Ancient Technology", Greenwood (2006).

Augustus' Social Legislation: a case study.

2009-07-21T13:01:00.008+02:00

The following small case study on Augustus' social legislation was prepared by me several years ago to be presented in a Masters tutorial class. I have edited it only very slightly, and so the text seen here represents, essentially, the presentation as it originally was. Generally speaking, I still like the small commentary, and I think the views therein, while hardly controversial, are quite correct. Tasked to overhaul it entirely, I may write it somewhat differently, but generally I'm quite happy with it even in this form.

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The social legislation of Augustus is one of the defining characteristics of his reign, although it is problematic in many respects. There has been a tendency in the sources and in scholarship to glaze over the entire Augustan period as having a cohesive and systematically planned objective. Zanker, for example, speaks of a “goal orientated cultural program” enacted by Augustus throughout his reign. Ostensibly, it would seem, that the purpose of this program was to heal Rome from the wounds of civil war and strife.

The aim, according to this view, is to regain the pietas of a bygone age (albeit perhaps an idealised and imagined one) – the age where Romans were real men, their women loyal and their masculine domination of Rome’s neighbours rigid and complete. The consensus was that Rome had become decadent and immoral (a view espoused by moralising writers such as Livy and Sallust) and that it was this immorality – of which adultery and debased sexuality were a feature – that had caused the gods to abandon their favoured city of Rome and allow her to almost destroy herself.

The Augustan answer to this problem was in 18 and 17 B.C.E (followed later by a revision in 9 C.E) to enact legislation making adultery a public offence, and through a system of punishment and reward to induce higher birth rates and suitable marriage among the desirable peoples of Rome. Narrowly these laws are referred to as the Lex Julia or the Julian laws.

The ancient sources for this legislation are somewhat hazy. Suetonius mentions Augustus’s revision of old laws or enactments of new ones on “extravagance, adultery, chastity, bribery and on the encouragement of marriage among the various classes”, but he doesn’t really go into the specifics, preferring, instead, to paint Augustus’s seriousness on these matters by not conceding to complaining Romans in the theatre about the strictness of these laws.

In fact Suetonius has Augustus bring out Germanicus (his grandson, through the marriage of Agrippa and his daughter Julia) and his family as an exemplar, seemingly saying nothing other than epigrammatically sitting with the children on his lap (thus using the young man as a example for all to follow). The only specific Suetonius does mention is that, a revolt upon some of the law’s provisions resulted in increased rewards for childbirth and the allowing of a three year exemption on the obligation to marry following the death of a husband or wife.

That these laws were challenged in some form attests to the difficulty in glazing over the Augustan period as one in where Augustus systematically introduced planned reform across the entire social and public strata(s) to great applause and uniform acceptance.

Some more specifics for these laws can be garnered in the Digest of Paul (as part of a greater compendium of Roman law ordered by Justinian in the 6th century). One of the main aims of these laws was to punish the extramarital affairs of women. A father (a legal paterfamilias- Head of the family) was now allowed to murder his married daughter and her lover, if caught in his house or his son-in-laws committing adultery. Although he must kill both, for if only one was killed then he may be tried for murder.

The law also stipulated that a husband could not kill his wife if he found her committing adultery, but he could kill the lover without repercussions, but only if he was a criminal, actor, prostitute, slave and perhaps if he was a freedman. Furthermore, where he could kill the lover he was also allowed to injure him. If the lover was killed the husband had to divorce his wife within three days and instigate adultery charges against her. If he didn’t then he could be charged himself (it’s all rather complicated). Nevertheless, essentially adultery became a public offence, and was no longer to be dealt with privately, as such permanent law courts were set up to deal with it.

Moreover, the legislation also covered who could marry whom. The essential thrust of this legislation was to prohibit senators and up to their 3rd generation descendants marrying ex-slaves.

Another facet of the laws would seem to paint them as reactionary to the increasing immorality and influence of women. Sempronia in Sallust and Clodia in Cicero, for example, highlighted the growing promiscuity of women. Indeed the moralising here understands these women as immoral and to be acting utterly outside the correct parameters for female behaviour. Although this leads to an extensive debate on gender tensions, for the sake of this small commentary it is enough to highlight the notion that the legislation can also be read as – at least partly – reactionary to the antics of women in the recent past (the past which the laws set out to fix).

Overwhelmingly these various pieces of social legislation seem to form a cohesive policy. The stimulation of marriage and reproduction between desirable Romans and the continued chastity and security of the unions there built seems to be its aim. It’s perhaps a little dangerous to buy into that picture wholesale, though. Our knowledge of the laws is scattered, and the fact that they encountered resistance points towards the idea that implementing them was not a smooth process (indeed that a revision was required in A.D 9 also suggests this).

I think any attempt to understand the laws needs to understand the context surrounding their enactment. The idealised view is of a streamlined cultural policy enacted by Augustus as part of his greater reorganisation of the Roman state into a monarchy. The reality, I think, is a great deal muddier.

For example, the bringing back of traditional Roman pietas which in the Res Gestae Augustus tells us he instigated (8.5) by the restoration of the practices of their ancestors and the idea that Rome was born again after her dissent into moral debasement - espoused in Horace’s Carmen Saeculare, for example, where he speaks of Rome being reborn and the return of faith, peace and ancient modesty, even asking the Gods to help bring to fruition the new laws on marriage and birth – is often accepted as an imagined fiction. Analogously, even today people imagine the past as a bastion of moral excellence, and the same mechanism drove the Romans to be forever imagining their stern and masculine forebears that honoured the gods and brought many peoples under their dominion even if they may never have genuinely existed.

Even if the enactors of the laws and those affected by it believed this moral revolution tale, I think it still highlights a problem for us in fitting the legislation smoothly into the Augustan period.

Augustus’s apparent seriousness over the laws is well attested, the example Suetonius relates about the family of Germanicus in the theatre being one such example. Suetonius also tells us (89) that Augustus read a speech to the senate by a Censor called Metellus from 131.B.C about increasing the birth-rate “as if it had just been written” (the links between the past and the Augustan period in relation to social policies being highlighted). Furthermore, Tacitus tells us (3.24) that Augustus exiled his own daughter Julia (his only natural child) for breaking the adultery laws, and Tacitus also seems to feel that Augustus was perhaps overly harsh in his treatment – which could indicate just how seriously he took the laws and their enforcement.

Nevertheless, the idea that Augustus was coerced in some ways to enact these laws is also prevalent in some sources. Cassius Dio (54.16.3) suggests that Augustus only instituted the legislation under pressure from the senate and Ronald Syme (Roman Revolution, pg 453) posits the idea that the provincial elites were putting pressure on him also. These ideas conflict with the notion of Augustus being in complete charge of implementing a policy of social change and suggest that perhaps the “Augustan Party” that Syme speaks of played a larger role in seeing the laws come to fruition.

Suetonius (69) even suggests that Augustus was an adulterer, which again sets the smooth conception and enforcement of a homogeneous social policy against a rather more complex and greyer background. That he was seemingly exempt from the laws himself (he only had one daughter – Julia), highlights not only the difficulty in understanding the laws, but also the nature of Augustus’ rule – he was above everyone else – the rules, even his own ones, did not apply to him. This idea is powerfully argued by Werner Eck in the work reviewed below.

Further to these difficulties, Tacitus sees the laws as somewhat sinister (Annals. 3.28) mentioning the “tightening of the shackles”. Although Tacitus is a notorious sympathiser for the Republic, the idea he highlights about the legislation being perhaps too oppressive is reflected in Suetonius’s mention of “open revolt” and the subsequent revision of the 18/17 B.C laws in AD.9.

Overall, the social legislation of Augustus is problematic. It doesn’t quite fit into the period as easily as first understood. It is rather a mix of reactions to the period directly before Augustus secured sole rule and a mode to fix (what it believes) are the problems that caused the Civil Wars. I think they must be understood as part of a fragmentary whole. The laws were not smoothly accepted, and it’s possible that Augustus himself was not quite the moral beacon he intended to be (explaining, maybe, his treatment of his daughter in her exile and the way in which he brought her back to a more comfortable life in Italy some years later). In concluding, in abstract terms, I think it’s reasonable to see the laws as cohesive, they do seem to set out with the same ideas in mind, but with many things, once they are set into the context of genuine human relations and interaction they became much more complex.

Future plans.

2009-07-20T16:12:00.013+02:00

My head is currently full of thoughts for what to post here, so much so that I've decided to make a post (both to serve my own memory and to act as a signpost) that covers some of the things I'd like to write about in the future.

1 - I'm currently reading a book on ancient technology, which I find very interesting. I've been meaning to read something on the topic for a while and now I've got round to it. I feel a little out of my depth commenting on the scholarly side of the work (although I may well try anyway), and so my focus will be a more general review of the book and some other thoughts. I expect to post this in the next week.

2 - I would like to re-watch Kubrick's "Spartacus" and comment on it's historical veracity, characterisations and any other issues arising from the viewing. I'm interested in making this blog varied, and so don't want to stagnate with purely reviews of books.

3 - On a related note, I'd also like to choose a character from HBO's excellent "Rome" TV series and comment on the historical deviations and characterisation. At the moment I'm leaning towards Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, as the Agrippa in the show differs greatly from the Agrippa of record.

4 - I'm very much aware that most of my focus so far has been on Roman history, especially the late Republic and early Empire, and so I'd like to incorporate some other periods/areas into my writing. The obvious one is to include something Greek, which I certainly plan to do, and also to visit the end of the Roman Empire, for which Adrian Goldsworthy has kindly released a book on very recently.

5 - I'm considering re-working some of the essays used during my Masters, especially with an eye to "upgrading" them. The topics were disparate, and so I think they could be interesting.

6 - I would like to read more classical authors. I've read much of the classical corpus at some point or another, but never with a mind to write something afterwards. I currently live over 1000 miles from by book collection, and so this point may need to wait until November when I can retrieve some of those books.

7 - Finally, I am in Rome from next week, and shall be taking photographs and notes, which I intend to add to this page.

These, then, are my plans. Hopefully all will bear fruit. Note, entries in italics have been completed in some form.

Some thoughts on Werner Eck's "The Age of Augustus".

2009-07-19T13:07:00.015+02:00

Following chronologically from reading about the Civil Wars of the Late Republic between Caesar and Pompey, I recently picked up "The Age of Augustus" from the eminent German scholar Werner Eck (the work is well translated by Deborah Lucas Schneider). It's important to note, for reasons which will be made clear later, that I read the 2007 edition.

Briefly I must also make a brief statement regarding nomenclature. It's a convention of historical analysis of this period that prior to 27 B.C.E, Augustus is known by his birth name as Octavian (despite the fact he used his adopted fathers name - Gaius Julius Caesar - after 44 B.C.E) and that Augustus is used for 27 B.C.E and beyond. I will stick to this system in this small review.

Eck begins the work with a brief look at the Res Gestae of Augustus (essentially a lengthy statement of his achievements that was mounted on his mausoleum in Rome for all to see), which to my mind is the best place to start, by running through the main themes of the Res Gestae, Eck manages to introduce and foreshadow the main topics for discussion later in this work.

Using the Res Gestae to underpin the work is a smart choice, for it not only highlights the fact that our understanding of the period is heavily influenced by Augustus' own summary, plus his powerful influence, but also that the essential purpose of the work is to expose the half-truths evident in the Res Gestae itself for the propaganda that they are.

The next few sections are essentially preliminary - they cover the period before the "Augustan Age" (usually considered 27 B.C.E onwards, when the then Octavian "restored" the Republic and accepted the name Augustus), and so are a little outside the works remit. That said, however, much of the thrust of the work depends on Augustus' actions during this period. Nevertheless, it's an essential introduction and well constructed.

Eck recognises and outlines right from the offset that Augustus exerted a huge amount of influence on the period and subsequent history of it. His power was truly immense. Choosing to begin the work with a discussion of the Res Gestae both serves to illustrate this and undermine the "truths" put forward by that influence. Even in the opening sections Eck is at pains to emphasise the large amount of propaganda Octavian used in his Civil War against Mark Antony, and how much of our understanding of the period, and of Antony more generally from this time, is taken directly from the proclamations of Octavian.

The opening section also pays homage to the notion from Syme that the Augustan Age was one essentially crafted from great slaughter and promotion of partisans. Eck does not shy away from the brutality of Octavian during this period, but there is no excessive, Syme like, focus on it. Overall, I think, it's a fair and thoughtful introduction to the period - highlighting the main themes, the central problems and the general tone of the time and character of the future Augustus.

One curiosity of the opening period is the relatively few mentions of Augustus' "party" - namely his right hand man, Agrippa and his advisor Mycaenas. Agrippa is not mentioned until Actium (the decisive battle of the Civil War between Antony and Octavian) and Mycaenas gets barely a fleeting mention throughout the whole work. Given that Agrippa exerted huge influence on Octavian's early rise (he was a great General and soldier) this is somewhat bizarre. A few reasons exist for why this may be, though.

Firstly - all glory was Octavian's/Augustus'. Members of his direct family could share the glory of military victories, but essentially all glory was laid squarely at his feet. In this respect, it's not surprising that others who may be similarly powerful architects of his victories would be overshadowed. Secondly - the nature of politics in this period is essentially private - Octavian, and his aides, would make decisions behind closed doors, and so it's only natural that most of the successes that came from them would be attributed to the figurehead.

The sections following the chronologically based opening of the work are primarily thematic. The topics are all drawn from those highlighted in the opening sections. They cover the general areas of interest during the Augustan Age - the army, foreign policy, the development of his position, government and administration, the city of Rome, the succession and finally his death. Discussing the period in this way is sensible, as it allows Eck to show the deeply gradual process of change that underpins Augustus' entire reign. Nothing was immediate, every success experienced trial and error beforehand, and not everything worked as planned.

Eck's insistence on the slow and steady development of the new system (pg.57 onwards) is merited. He highlights the fact that our understanding of the period comes very much from later sources, who tend to conflate the almost final Augustan model present at his death (in 14 C.E) with the one in place in 27 B.C.E, and as such the essentially gradual development of his position is usually missed. The constant tinkering with army finances and also the fact that his actual position in the state was not clear until well after Actium, are two arguments Eck uses to support this. Given the evidence, I agree with him entirely, as does most scholarly opinion.

Each section has a nice discussion at it's heart. The official statements of the Res Gestae are compared with the, often, conflicting evidence, and Eck spends much effort trying to pull back the façade of the Augustan Age, although nothing excessively controversial comes to light. The effect of the thematic approach is that at the end one (should!) have attained a reasonably rounded and full understanding of the Augustan period. Eck certainly touches on the large themes and does them justice for such a short work.

Criticism of the work prior to the 2007 edition often focused on the complete lack of wordage given to Augustus' social legislation (an immensely important part of the overall Augustan "package" sold to the Roman world). Thankfully, this has been rectified in the 2007 edition, as the topic gets some coverage. That said, however, in some respects it's annoyingly scant - the lack of any discussion of the affair regarding Augustus' daughter, Julia, despite it being hinted at, is a source of chagrin.

Another criticism, which sadly still remains in force, is that there is little mention of the literary and artistic program instigated under Augustus. Vergil and Horace get little mention, and their patron, Augustus' confidant Mycaenas, along with his relationship to Augustus and his "program" more generally is sadly never really given any space or discussion.

The work, then, focuses more on politics. In this respect Eck is somewhat of a successor to Syme - he reads the period as one of people being bound to Augustus, forming a "party" of Augustus so to speak. That he spends considerably less time emphasising the brutal nature of the party's formulation that Syme, does not detract greatly from that essential point. Eck rallies against the conception of Augustus as a benign leader instigating a period of great (and successful) reforms across every layer of society (a rally first started by Syme in the "Roman Revolution"), and instead attempts to see through the Res Gestae (and by implication the propaganda). He sums this up wonderfully when he accuses many historians of taking Augustus "at his own word" (pg.148).

Before concluding, I'd like to make some brief comments on organisation and formulation of the work more generally. Firstly, it makes every effort to translate Latin phrases for the general reader, which is admirable, although curiously the work contains no glossary, which would be very helpful. Secondly, there is no referencing throughout the work, which makes it highly irritating to both the scholar and the general interest reader looking for more specific works.

Lastly, a copy of the Res Gestae is included within the book, and given it's importance, it's an excellent addition. It's a translation by Sarolta A. Takács, which is intended to somewhat supersede the Brunt and Moore edition. While it's an excellent addition to the work, I still think owning Brunt and Moore's edition of the Res Gestae is thoroughly worthwhile, not least for the introduction and copious notes.

In summarising, then, Eck's work is a thoughtful and useful piece of scholarship on the Augustan period. It tries to see through the propaganda (which is exceptionally difficult) and to understand the time much more objectively. Eck succeeds with this in most respects. He urges understanding of period to be clear on it's gradual development, and he covers most of the primary aspects of the complete overhaul Augustus instigated (art and literature aside, sadly).

Eck, though, is keenly aware of the difficulty in pulling back the Augustan veil (he emphasies that all portrayals of the period must stem from the Res Gestae - pg.171), but for the most part he does so with great vigor. One of the elements of Augustus' early life that is sadly underemphasised is his overriding brutality in the finishing of the Civil Wars. It's possible that this arises from Eck's German roots, and the uncomfortable nature of German's discussing brutal dictators, although I would not like to put to much weight on this thought.

In some respects, when one considers Eck's continuation of Syme's "Augustan Party" argument (in showing the Res Gestae to be a work of half truth, Eck essentially indicates how Augustus really asserted his position - brutality to begin with but ruthlessness throughout in developing a core of supporters), the essential conflict between attempting to reveal the true Augustus but being worried of the brutal dictator that may lay beneath, is the central idea that I will take away from my reading of this work.

These things aside, as an introduction, and considering it includes the Res Gestae, this work is certainly essential for anyone beginning to understand the Augustan Age, and also as an interesting piece of literature for those already familiar with it and the various scholarly debates it gives rise to.

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Relevant bibliography: Eck, Werner, "The Augustan Age" (trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider) with "Res Gestae Divi Augusti" (trans. Sarolta A. Takács), Blackwell (2007).

Addendum: Some research on the translation by Sarolta A. Takács, and also of Eck's book more generally, has gave rise to some criticisms of the work, and also with regards to it's editing. Those criticisms can be found at the following link: http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2004/2004-09-36.html #t5.

With regards the Latin translations, I feel unqualified to comment, but I can confirm that the 2007 edition reviewed here does not contain the rather humourous "Inspector Caesar" error.

A note on the merit of secondary sources and materials.

2009-07-15T19:23:00.006+02:00

This debate is far too lengthy, and complex, for me to elucidate here, but I feel I should make a brief statement of my thoughts on the topic, especially considering the fact the question was brought up in my thoughts on Robin Seager's "Pompey: A political biography".

The myriad of philosophical and historiographical views on whether secondary sources are indeed useful are difficult to wade through, and so my immediate thoughts are to consider a more simple understanding, which I hope to, briefly, explain.

I think secondary sources have inherent worth. The amount of extant works we have from the classical corpus is extremely limited, and while the focus should always be on trying to make sense of the primary sources, secondary studies are, to my mind, necessary for further understanding. Essentially I'm walking, what I consider at least, a pragmatic line - it's unlikely that we'll find any more classical manuscripts and so to avoid stagnation, secondary literature is essential.

The amount of scholarship on the pitfalls of historiography generally is legion, and while I don't advocate disregarding it entirely (I think it's useful to be familiar with the intrinsic faults of any system one uses/is a part of), I believe that truly great secondary literature drives forward discussion and understanding of the primary literature, and regardless of any possible weaknesses, that cannot fail to be helpful.

For example, Ronald Syme's "Roman Revolution" and his works on Tacitus have driven forward interpretations of both Tacitus and the Late Republic/Early Empire with great enthusiasm and vim, whether or not one holds to his views now (it's unlikely anyone does now entirely, although the are still highly respected) is irrelevant, for the jolt he gave to scholarship was immense, and one can hardly say reading him did not force them to reevaluate the primary sources with a keener eye.

Generally these are my views. I'm aware of the debate, and also of the various problems of historiography, but I choose to skim over them somewhat in order to spend more time considering the secondary sources and in the light of those (and sometimes not in the light of those) reread the primary ones, always aware of the inherent problems of historical research and interpretations but choosing not to get lost in them.

Some thoughts on Robin Seager's "Pompey: A political biography".

2009-07-14T20:50:00.018+02:00

Having read Adrian Goldsworthy's account of Caesar's life (discussed below), my appetite was whetted for some further reading on the Late Republic. My attention immediately turned to Caesar's great opponent (in the end, at least): Pompey.

Given the relative lack of dedicated English language monographs on Pompey, my choice was limited to a 2002 reprint of Robin Seager's 1979 work "Pompey: A political biography", nevertheless the work is a respected study, and so my hand was hardly forced reluctantly to read it.

Seager immediately states his intentions in the preface by saying the work is a political biography of Pompey, and will contain no detailed military discussions (it doesn't - important military battles are covered, or indeed not covered, with swift brevity. Not once does Seager mention a legion, or the triple acies). Coming straight from reading Goldsworthy (a particularly dedicated military historian), I thought this approach would be refreshing. That said, I had some reservations that the work may, as a consequence of the unswerving political focus, never quite get at an understanding of Pompey the man. That worry turned out to be somewhat founded, but I will discuss that later.

Seager chooses to carve up the corpus of Pompey's life into 13 sections, each hovering around 10-15 pages in length. The sections conform to the major events of Pompey's political life, and facilitate a somewhat breakneck jaunt through a rather full life. The opening introductory section is written in an exceptionally clear style, as is the rest of the work, and, to my mind at least, constitutes one of the clearest and brief discussions of the problems facing the Late Republic around, especially in understanding the complexities of land ownership, personal ambition and the changes in military organisation since the end of the Punic Wars (146 B.C.E).

The opening sections discuss the role of Pompey's father in his life, and the situation that Pompey faced after his death - particularly the social and political situation he had inherited. I found the explanations detailing the transition from here to Sulla's "hatchetman" (one among many instances of humour Seager injects into the narrative - pg. 32) especially engaging and adept, with special regards to understanding the complex and original position Pompey held within the Roman state. In fact, Seager does an excellent job throughout of explaining Pompey and his position at any given moment in relation to his piers and the state more generally.

It occurred to me after reading these opening sections that Seager uses a fair amount of Latin, which would seem to conflict with his statement that the work is for the general reader as well as the scholar or student. I then realised that the work was published originally some thirty years ago, and the standards for what has become popular history were undoubtedly different. The Latin provided some problems for myself, who has studied it, and so I can imagine it may hinder the understanding of some key parts of the text to those with no Latin.

Seager states in his afterword that no major scholarly advancement has been made in the thirty years since the original publication of his book, and given the views he expresses within the work it's difficult to disagree with him to any great extent, as the main elements of scholarly discussion and contention are around now as then, and he has similar views in the text to many modern scholars. He does tend to overstate the "popularis" vs "optimate" understanding of the Late Republic, but insomuch as these labels are useful he does use them appropriately, and he's careful to state the individual nature of the periods politics and the simplicity of any such conclusion (pg.29+128) and furthermore stresses the lack of a "monolithic bloc" anywhere in Late Republican politics (pg.132).

One of the areas I feel he fails to illuminate is the nature of a soldiers loyalty during this period. He does, of course, mention that a soldier has great loyalty to his General (as only the General, not the state, can ensure his future prosperity) (pg.28) but he fails to mention the further (logical, I think) conclusion that the soldiers were ultimately out for themselves, and would tie themselves to their General in the hope of self betterment. There is a wide tendency to overstate the post Marian General/soldier relationship as one of exclusive loyalty, and while it makes much sense, I feel it's important to stress not only the individual nature of Roman politics but also the, similarly, selfish world the soldiers likely inhabited too. Again, I think my view on this is influenced by Gruen's "Last Generation of the Roman Republic", so I will comment more fully on this in the future.

The greatest strength of the work is in how the political narrative can help one to understand the characters of the time. One is given an excellent understanding of the vanity of Pompey through his political decisions, and there is also considerable worth in the depictions of Cicero as equally vein (pg.77) and of the exceptionally petty actions of the ruling elite, Cato especially (pg.83-84).

The Late Republic was a time full of interesting characters, and Seager's political focus serves to highlight the often dirty side of the whole affair - which is an admirable achievement given the temptation to consider the "Great Men" of the period apart from their actions. The leading men of the time were usually corrupt, bribery was endemic and each would do almost anything to ensure their personal ambitions. It was a period of intense rivalry and widespread disorder. Seager manages to highlight these characters indirectly through his purely political discussion, and in doing so states only fact and reasonable judgements. Significant value judgements are left at square at the feet of the reader. This element of the work, I think, is an illuminating minor triumph.

One of the upshots from this is that Pompey is not painted as the tragic, somewhat bumbling political figure that he often is. Whether or not to view him like this is entirely for the reader to decide, and I found it quite refreshing to distance myself from the more common depictions of Pompey as a tragic figure and try to understand him as a more rounded individual.

Sadly, the greatest criticism is on a related note. The book feels less about Pompey and more about a constant fizz and rush of political events, albeit somewhat centred around Pompey himself. One can take a step towards understanding Pompey via his political decisions and actions, but there is very little reflection on Pompey as a man. This focus on Pompey as a political agent is perhaps a reflection of the works age - scholarship certainly used to focus on politics at the expense of other avenues, although critically this may all be for naught - as the work is clearly called a political biography. To my mind the criticism is not strong enough to damage the work significantly, but it's certainly valid enough insomuch as it highlights the age of the work and the faults that stem from that.

Defined by it's own terms the work is a success, I think, without any doubt. It's a clear and thoughtful story of the political life of Pompey that offers much to be pondered. Considered more generally it could be said to have certain weaknesses, many of these stemming from it's age and approach (Seager is aware of these and makes mention of them frequently in his afterword). He also is just one step away from rendering the reprint as pointless (given the lack of serious advances in scholarship on Pompey and in the debatable usefulness of political biography and secondary monographs more generally), but is saved by the fact that secondary sources for Pompey's life in English are somewhat lacking and having any in print serves the common good.

If indeed the work is somewhat outdated, the fact that it is now more available surely is a positive thing - for perhaps it can serve as a basis for the fuller study of Pompey that is still needed, the one that recognises not just political moving and shaking, but the events that may have driven him, like the death of Julia, or his intense fear of assassination. This criticism can be thrown at Goldsworthy also, insomuch as the death of Julia gets surprisingly little coverage or analysis, and so perhaps in many ways these two books about the two greatest figures of the Late Republic, despite claiming to be aimed at the normal reader, are still, if perhaps unwittingly, tied to the two dominant classical scholarly traditions of the past - that of politics and war.

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Relevant bibliography: Seager, R, "Pompey: a political biography", Blackwell (2002).

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Addendum: It occurred to me several days after initially posting this that Seager was perhaps limited to political biography because it's the only form biography that follows the facts we know, and somewhat avoids the problems of historiography (where possible). In that respect, many of the criticisms above are unjust, as they fail to give credit for a conscious decision in making it purely a political biography.

It's not that a more rounded study wouldn't be appreciated (despite the methodological problems that it may involve), simply that Seager considered the worth of secondary monographs more generally and concluded a political biography was the only avenue he could really explore.

Rome March 2008.

2009-07-13T13:33:00.010+02:00

I usually try to visit Rome at least once per year, and the photos accompanying this post are from March 2008. I am planning to visit later this month (late July 2009) and so will add an update to this post after that trip. The pictures enclosed within this post are just my personal highlights, and number only three.

The first picture is of the Pantheon - which is now a Christian Church. It's an astoundingly interesting building originally built by Augustus' right-hand man - Marcus Agrippa, but later altered under the auspices of the Emperor Hadrian. There is considerable debate about it's original form, and this is exacerbated regarding Hadrian's habit of plastering the names of the original builders whenever overhauling or upgrading a building, making it difficult to decide which part was intended/built/funded by whom. Despite this, the current form is a breathtaking building that is, to my mind, the best preserved Roman building in the world.

Originally the Pantheon was built on a hill, and with it's enormous bronze dome, it constituted a dominant part of the Ancient Roman skyline. Sadly, changes in topography since that period mean it now lies somewhat in a ditch, although it's a testament to it's enduring majesty that it still dominates it's surroundings.

The second picture is taken from one of the bustling transport hubs of the modern city - Largo Di Torre Argentina. Despite the buzz and movement, the four Republican temples which form the centre of the square are immensely interesting. This area was formerly located in the Campus Martius (The fields of Mars) just outside the Ancient City, but is now in the centre of one of the world's busiest cities. Nevertheless the square holds large significance, not least because the ruins of Pompey's theatre are also here, and indeed these hold the spot where it is believed Julius Caesar was murdered. My picture shows the areas relevant to that significant event.

The final picture is taken from inside the Temple of Julius Caesar in the heart of the Forum Romanum. It was taken a few days after the anniversary of his murder on the Ides (15th) of March 44 B.C.E, ergo the arrangement of flowers and other memorials. In many ways I found this very surprising, but when one considers the sheer impact of Caesar on modern culture (touched upon just a little in my last post) it's really not a great surprise. Either way, it's quite moving and very interesting.

Clicking on any of the pictures will render them full size and as a result much clearer.

Some thoughts on Adrian Goldsworthy's "Caesar: Life of a Colossus".

2009-07-08T22:23:00.027+02:00

Let me begin by stating that Adrian Goldsworthy's "Caesar: Life of a Colossus" is one of my favourite popular history accounts of any aspect of Classical History (another being Tony Perrottet's "Route 66A.D, which I also hope to write about in the future).

Weighing in at some 674 pages (including bibliography and notes) it is a substantial tome for being, as Goldsworthy himself states, a non-academic/scholarly work. Nevertheless, the narrative of Caesar's live is sprightly and gallops from his birth in 100 B.C.E until his untimely murder in 44 B.C.E with great speed and a hint of restlessness - qualities documented to be held by Caesar himself - and so the relative length is inconsequential in most respects.

Goldsworthy splits Caesar's very full life into three general sections: (i) - The rise to the Consulship 100-59 B.C.E; (ii) - Proconsul 58 - 50 B.C.E and finally (iii) - Civil War and Dictatorship 49 - 44 B.C.E, with each section having a few clear and relevant subsections. Carving Caesar's life up into three large and unruly chunks initially seemed to me as oversimplification, but having read this work several times now, I think it facilitates an easier understanding of a complicated life. Caesar's life can be understood, in it's most basic form, as working towards and attaining the Consulship, his time as Proconsul and finally the Civil War and death and so Goldsworthy, I believe, is sensible to divide it for ease of understanding.

Each section is well written and is very detailed for a popular history account, but certainly would never be boring to the layman. Goldsworthy admirably mentions facts from a variety of ancient sources regarding almost every part of Caesar's life, and despite his claim that the work is non-scholarly, he will often remark upon current academic debate, or the veracity of the ancient sources. The result is an easily readable work that touches upon the depths of modern scholarship without becoming too bogged down. That said, Goldsworthy is a scholar, and for anyone with a grounding in classical history, it's clear to see - more on this later.

From the outset Goldsworthy states that he plans to only follow his primary subject - events that are not directly influenced by or have an effect on Caesar will not be mentioned, or indeed skimmed over. The primary reason for this, one suspects, is to retain some structure to the work. The Late Republic is literally a quagmire of events, counter-events, stories, tales, anecdotes and everything in between. For the historian it must be very tempting to include all of these things, yet Goldsworthy sticks notably well to his aim of following only Caesar. One never feels lost in the Late Republic depicted by Goldsworthy (which of course could have been very, very easy), only acutely aware that Caesar is the focus.

One of the great strengths of the work is the middle section regarding Caesar's time as Proconsul in Gaul. Goldsworthy is primarily a military historian (his other publications are heavily based on the Roman army at various periods), and as a result his account of Caesar's "pacification" (Caesar's own term) of Gaul is excellently rendered, fully detailed and highly readable.

He follows Caesar's own account of the war very closely, referencing it at almost every point, but he's aware of the works purpose, and so does not hesitate to question Caesar's words, nor use alternative sources (which in turn he analyses for their veracity). The upshot is a wonderfully complex yet exciting and easily consumed section on Caesar's Gallic Wars.

The beginning and end sections are also of a very high quality, but it is the section that they sandwich that shines the most, as does any section where Goldsworthy gets to roll up his sleeves as a military historian.

Goldsworthy holds a very interesting scholarly line throughout the work, which, although not explicit, is clear to anyone with a classical background. He is keen to stress his disagreement with the now discredited idea of a party system in Rome akin to those in modern democracies, instead going to great lengths to impose upon the reader the idea that Rome was dominated by personal ambition and rivalry. This is an important point to highlight, for understanding this is key to understanding both Caesar and the Late Republic more generally. I recall studying this particular aspect of Roman history in a course entitled "Rivalry and Disorder" and ever since I've been at a loss to explain how crucial it is in understanding the period.

Caesar is treated as an individual who desires unparalleled glory and respect. His enemies are also depicted as individuals, and the transient nature of political ties in Rome is highlighted on many occasions, not to mention the impossibly complex system of patronage and family relations. Goldsworthy performs above par in trying to explain the sheer wealth of connections, grievances and everything else that existed between the Roman elite.

He also is at great pains to emphasise the un-inevitability of events - Caesar was not always aiming at revolution, but only came upon the decision when forced into a corner. Further to this, Goldsworthy makes it clear that despite all the violence and problems facing the Republic, it still managed to function, and the disease that eventually ended it was never chronic until quite late in it's life cycle - a notion that goes against much scholarship, which often reads a certain inevitability to the Republic's demise, sometimes going as far back as the mid 1st Century B.C.E.

He never quite joins Erich S. Gruen in "The Last Generation of the Roman Republic" in believing that the Republic was essentially functional right until the last, but Goldsworthy's refusal to take events as inevitable pushes him somewhat in this direction. In some respects this is a difficult decision - was the Republic resilient or not, and did it run relatively normally right up until the civil war? It's not entirely clear to me, nor in this work. One simultaneously gets the impression that the rot had set by the close of the 2nd Century B.C.E, but also that it was not as clear as all that. It's been a while since I've read Gruen, but my memory indicates that I found him very convincing on this idea, even if I didn't support him whole hog. Perhaps I will post about it in the future.

Goldsworthy also challenges a popular belief that the professional army, with armies loyal to Generals and not the Republic, brought about the end of the Republic. He stresses the individual ambitions of the soldiers in many cases, and without denigrating their obvious loyalty to Caesar, they themselves clung to him in the hope of self betterment as much as heartfelt loyalty. This notion is occasionally clouded as Goldsworthy does reference the intense ties soldiers now had to their Generals instead of the state, but I think it's clear that he doesn't put the fall of the Republic squarely at the feet of the new professional army - an avenue of thought I agree with.

He also, refreshingly, will offer a simple alternative to a heated scholarly debate - the idea that Caesar's womanising may simply be down to a love for sex, and Pompey's consecutive marriages to younger women may be a result of his despair at ageing. It's often tempting to read these particular parts of Caesar's and Pompey's characters as having greater political dimensions, especially with respect to how often private affairs were dominated by things such as public image and ambition. Goldsworthy's more "simple" conclusions are elegant, and should never be rejected purely because they might seem base and unscholarly.

His view is very anti-holistic, but is cohesive enough to be easily read and enjoyed. Given the absolute social milieu of the period, that is worthy of praise in itself. Again and again Goldsworthy challenges generally held ideas and facts about the period - urging a deeper understanding.

One of the most fascinating aspects is that everything is set into context, Caesar into his society, his actions with respect to past Romans, Roman society into the world more generally - the list goes on. He emphasises that it's important to understand Caesar in his world - not through the confusing glasses of retrospect, Hollywood cinema and the slightly bent interpretations of the Principate from which many of our ancient sources come.

The work, as a popular historical account, has no substantial downsides. It is, perhaps, a little lengthy for it's target audience and, although this may seem contradictory, the period really requires some background knowledge, which Goldsworthy can never fully provide (not a criticism per se), and it lacks a certain appeal to those already well versed in Caesar's life as it's not a ruthlessly detailed scholarly text. Walking the line between scholarship and popular history is, I imagine, quite difficult, especially for the scholar. That said, however, it is detailed enough and offers a fresh enough perspective to be interesting even to the hardened scholar. The fact that it holds within it much academic debate (although it's not explicitly referenced) adds to the inherent interest of the work to academics. The work was never intended to be groundbreaking scholarship, and so levelling a criticism based upon it's lack of academic debate seems unfair. In many ways it trumps scholarship, as it contains witty and refreshing prose about a topic that hardly lacks written volume.

The greatest success of the work, in my opinion, is it's basic challenge to the commonly held image of Caesar. Goldsworthy wants his readers to see past the idolised Caesar and get a feel of the real Caesar - as much as one now exists and we are able to grasp of it.

I think this idea is wonderfully symbolised by the front cover of the work, where the idolised bust of Caesar is halved - showing that there was much more to the man than one may superficially think, and also that, despite this, the idolised image of Caesar exists for a reason - the man is an idol. Goldsworthy's respect of this fact is one of the most endearing things about this work. Caesar was of course a real man, who the book tries to uncover with great vigor, but the magnitude of Caesar as a man, character, image and symbol, magnified by over 2000 years, is so all encompassing it's sometimes hard to see through it.

Goldsworthy admits that Caesar is difficult to pin down, as I mentioned in the above paragraph, but he tries admirably to understand Caesar in context to the greatest extent that we can. Some things can never be known, nor fully understood, and it's certain that retrospect will colour all conceptions of the man himself, but insomuch as he was a man, I certainly feel much closer to knowing him having read Goldsworthy than I was before, and that is, to my mind, certainly the greatest marker of the success of this work and of any biography more generally.

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Related bibliography: Adrian Goldsworthy, "Caesar: Life of a Colossus", Phoenix (2007).

Addendum: An interesting academic review of the work can be found here: http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2007/2007-05-35.html. It's interesting and in many ways quite valid. It is perhaps a little academically cynical regarding Caesar's status as a "great man", but is nevertheless a thoughtful and comprehensive review.

Purpose.

2009-07-08T14:10:00.010+02:00

My aim in writing this blog is simply to chronicle, and as a result have a documented record, of my musings with regards to classical history.

The plethora of blogs out there mean this one is unlikely to ever be read by any third party - a fact which I am keenly aware of. That said, my central wish is to chronicle my own thoughts, primarily for my own needs - in many respects I consider it something like a diary. If, however, anyone does read it, I welcome comments or reflections on the content herein.

My thoughts will, I hope, take a variety of forms - reviews of books, academic observations, simple musings and whatever else is being mulled over in my head at any one point, although, of course, everything will be related to classical history (to my mind that means the whole gamut anywhere from the supposed fall of Troy in the 13th or 12th Century B.C.E right through until the decline of the Western Roman Empire in the Mid 1st Millennia C.E).

Updates may be sporadic, as they'll conform to as and when I have something to say. I'm currently rereading Adrian Goldsworthy's popular history tome "Caesar: Life of a Colossus" and the topic of my first post is going to be on that work.

Awaiting content.

2009-07-06T22:16:00.001+02:00

I will be adding content as and when inspiration strikes.