Hedgehogs and Profound Thoughts...

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.

Caesar on Android.

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!

Caesar and the World Beyond.

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.

Some brief further thoughts on Lucan.

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".

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.


___________________________


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.

_____________________

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)

Some thoughts on Werner Eck's "The Age of Augustus".

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.


____________________


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.

Some thoughts on Robin Seager's "Pompey: A political biography".

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.

___________________


Relevant bibliography: Seager, R, "Pompey: a political biography", Blackwell (2002).

___________________

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.

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".

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.

__________________________________


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.

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.