To the extent that one subscribes to the proposition, by now a virtual principle of criticism , that literary texts constitute sites for the negotiation, often vigorous, of power relations within a society, the reader of Catullus can hardly avoid some consideration of the poet's attitude toward contemporary political matters. It is a subject on which two principal lines of thought can be traced. Mommsen argued that Catullus responded to the enormities that followed the reinvigoration of the First Triumvirate at (...) the conference of Luca in 56 by occupying a thoroughly optimate position. Wilamowitz, on the other hand, insisted that Catullus' lyrics reflect only moments of the author's individual experience, amongst which expressions of personal distaste for certain public figures naturally appear but nothing which can appropriately be taken as indications of a political stance. The approach of Wilamowitz has proved more influential, followed in spirit if not in specifics by numerous commentators. To the degree that Catullus has been assimilated to the Augustan elegists, whose poems have been deemed by a scholar of the stature of Veyne to be anti-political in nature, it has been all the easier to reject the idea that Catullus adopts a political position, an assessment strongly maintained in a recent study by Paul Allen Miller, for whom the rejection of all political engagement is the sine qua non of true lyric poetry. Mommsen's optimate Catullus has lately found his champion, however, in a careful article by H. P. Syndikus. Although Miller and Syndikus, like Wilamowitz and Mommsen, draw diametrically opposed conclusions concerning politics in Catullus' poetry, they are agreed nevertheless that politics can be regarded as a relatively straightforward term: it refers to statecraft, matters of government, and party strife. Other readers, however, have been more self-conscious in their theoretical concerns, a salutary consequence of which has been a shift by some to a less narrow conception of the field of reference appropriate to discussions of ‘the political’ in Latin literature. (shrink)

Constans, who defends the unanimous reading of the manuscripts, explains ‘tertium’ as a reference to two previous senatus consulta which Fufius did not veto . The problem with this interpretation is that Fufius is not even mentioned in the passage Constans cites; in fact, this letter marks Fufius' first appearance in the correspondence. On the basis of what is preserved it is difficult to see how Atticus could have divined such a meaning in Cicero's ‘tertium’. Scholars have preferred to emend. (...) The proposals of Graevius and Manutius have been criticized by Shackleton Bailey on the grounds that ‘concessit’ cannot mean ‘non intercessit’ in the absence of any mention of previous intercessory action on Fufius' part. However, in view of Cicero's description of the tribune in ad Att. 1.14.1, Atticus would have been no less puzzled if Fufius' failure to veto went unexplained. No earlier allusion to Fufius is necessary. Both ‘territus’ and ‘tum’ provide an explanatory context for Fufius' behaviour which makes the word play in ‘concessit’ understandable and perfectly acceptable. Shackleton Bailey's own suggestion does not suit the context of the letter, as Ph. Moreau demonstrates in some detail. In addition to the arguments adduced by Moreau, it is important to notice that Shackleton Bailey's reading fails to conform to the confident and victorious mood of the letter or to the plot of the relevant paragraph : once Cato's intrusion has focused the resentment of the Senate against Clodius' supporters and his tactics, Cicero depicts Clodhis 'position as increasingly abject. (shrink)

In March 59 Caesar and Pompey presided over the adoption of P. Clodius Pulcher into a plebeian family, thereby rendering the former patrician eligible for the tribunate. The immediate purpose of the dynasts' action was to silence the contumacious criticism of Cicero, whose Pro Antonio had gravely offended Caesar. And the gesture was effective: for a time at least, Cicero withdrew to his country estates. For Cicero – like everyone else in Rome – anticipated that, once tribune, Clodius would move (...) to exact revenge for the dishonour done him during and after the Bona Dea trial. For the remainder of the year Cicero made preparations to fend off his enemy, and principal among his resources was the personal guarantee of his friend Pompey the Great. Pompey, who regarded Clodius as his creature, took it to be a point of honour that he should shield Cicero from harm's way. But the Vettius affair changed everything. Regardless of who masterminded the scandal and despite all protestations to the contrary, the Vettius affair left Pompey estranged from Cicero, a reality that Cicero could not fail to recognize. After the Vettius affair Cicero could not prudently rely solely on the dynasts' promises – if ever he did. Yet the means by which Cicero endeavoured to secure his own safety – independent of his relationship with Pompey or Caesar – have not been adequately appreciated by modern scholars. They incline, quite naturally in view of the events of 58 which followed Cicero's exile, to see the contest over Cicero's fate primarily as a struggle between the dynasts, especially Pompey, and Clodius. Such an attitude, however, tends to cause one to overlook an often cited but infrequently discussed stratagem of Cicero: according to Cassius Dio, Cicero induced L. Ninnius Quadratus, a tribune of 58, to stand up against the legislation which Clodius promulgated upon his entering the tribunate. This arrangement indicates that Cicero was trying with considerable energy to look after his own interests. It is the purpose of this paper to attempt to explain the means by which Cicero hoped to thwart Clodius as well as the machinations by which the erstwhile patrician outwitted his opponent. (shrink)

In hisLife of Aemilius Paulus, Plutarch (quite naturally) rehearses the initial phase of Aemilius Paulus' campaign against Perseus, when the Macedonian had occupied a position on the northern bank of the river Elpeus so strongly fortified that any direct assault could only be disastrous for the attackers. Aemilius instead resorted to a cunning strategy of synchronized surgical strikes, while a detachment, the departure and direction of which were successfully disguised, managed to round the Macedonian camp. Perseus' position was thus compromised, (...) and in reaction the monarch hastily retreated to Pydna, where in the end his luck was even worse. Embedded in this narrative is the report that, prior to Aemilius' dislodging of Perseus, the morale of the legions was sorely depressed. The reason was simple and straightforward: they were suffering from a shortage of satisfactorily potable water. This difficulty Aemelius resolved by digging wells. (shrink)

In hisLife of Aemilius Paulus, Plutarch (quite naturally) rehearses the initial phase of Aemilius Paulus' campaign against Perseus, when the Macedonian had occupied a position on the northern bank of the river Elpeus so strongly fortified that any direct assault could only be disastrous for the attackers. Aemilius instead resorted to a cunning strategy of synchronized surgical strikes, while a detachment, the departure and direction of which were successfully disguised, managed to round the Macedonian camp. Perseus' position was thus compromised, (...) and in reaction the monarch hastily retreated to Pydna, where in the end his luck was even worse. Embedded in this narrative is the report that, prior to Aemilius' dislodging of Perseus, the morale of the legions was sorely depressed. The reason was simple and straightforward: they were suffering from a shortage of satisfactorily potable water. This difficulty Aemelius resolved by digging wells. (shrink)

In her recent discussion of ILLRP 311 Kirsteen Moir draws attention to the discrepancy between the epitaph's apparent claim that young Publius had before him a brilliant career, had he but survived, and the description which Cicero provides of Africanus' son, Publius, who is usually identified, with varying degrees of conviction, as the subject of this inscription. As Moir points out, the son of Africanus, though remarkably erudite, was incapacitated by poor health from achieving the military and political distinction predicted (...) by the necrology. Within the actual text of this inscription, one might add, there is another discrepancy: the Publius here commemorated was flamen Dialis, and the taboos which restricted the daily life of the priest of Jupiter effectively barred him, regardless of his powers or inclination, from fulfilling the promise voiced by his memorial. Moir proposes a solution which will solve both problems. She suggests that the gloria to which Publius could look forward was literary celebrity. The son of Africanus, after all, composed works known and read by Cicero a century later, works which documented his literary capabilities. Such attainment was well within the grasp of the flamen Dialis. And this interpretation of the inscription, if correct, would solve both discrepancies. (shrink)

‘In historical composition’, said Samuel Johnson, ‘all the greatest powers of the human mind are quiescent’. Perhaps so, but even if the historian must appear dull and plodding next to his more profound and shimmering brethren, the philologists and – of course – the literary critics, still he must be granted at least one virtue in plenty and that virtue is scepticism. Especially nowadays. While not quite yet ready to surrender his province to the meta-historians , the historian continues diligently (...) to scrutinize his sources with such wary Pyrrhonism as he can muster. He is especially suspicious of those ancients whose intelligence and whose literary gifts he most admires, hence the unrelenting distrust of authors such as Cicero and Caesar – and recently even such paragons of accuracy as Polybius. Still, a few authors have earned our unconscious credence, it would seem, merely by dint of their artlessness; we simply do not respect them enough to doubt them. A case in point: Varro's De Re Rustica, a remarkable ensemble of three dialogues, a highly literary work, yet one whose obvious inadequacies have distracted readers from its attempts at literariness and consequently have led them to take its veracity for granted – even when it relates to items having little or nothing to do with agriculture. A brief passage in the third book of R.R. informs us, or rather seems to inform us, that what was perhaps republican Rome's most illustrious family, the Claudii Pulchri, was reduced to poverty in the seventies B.C. in the aftermath of the death of the consul of 79 – evidence that has been accepted widely by modern scholars. In this paper I hope to show that there is no good reason for believing Varro's Appius when he claims to have been pauperized by his father's death and, furthermore, that to do so is to fail to appreciate the artistry and wry humour with which Varro has composed Book Three. (shrink)

‘Valerius Flaccus knows how to write with elegant precision.’ – R. Syme, Tacitus, 89.Phoebe, mone, si Cumaeae mihi conscia uatis 5stat casta cortina domo, si laurea dignafronte uiret …In these lines, as critics have long recognized, resides evidence for identifying Valerius Flaccus as a quindecimuir sacris faciundis. Emphasis is placed on the tripod emblematic of this sacred office which is here intimately associated with expertise in the oracular communications of the Cumaean Sibyl. The libri Sibyllini, the supervision and interpretation of (...) which were amongst the earliest and most conspicuous of the XVuiri's responsibilities, could be traced to the Sibyl at Cumae. Wreathes, too, formed part of the XVuir's equipment, and of course during the Imperial period the Sibylline books were deposited in the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine. In little more than two lines, then, one finds an abundance of references that cannot fail to fashion this addressee of Apollo as a quindecimvir. (shrink)

‘In historical composition’, said Samuel Johnson, ‘all the greatest powers of the human mind are quiescent’. Perhaps so, but even if the historian must appear dull and plodding next to his more profound and shimmering brethren, the philologists and – of course – the literary critics, still he must be granted at least one virtue in plenty and that virtue is scepticism. Especially nowadays. While not quite yet ready to surrender his province to the meta-historians, the historian continues diligently to (...) scrutinize his sources with such wary Pyrrhonism as he can muster. He is especially suspicious of those ancients whose intelligence and whose literary gifts he most admires, hence the unrelenting distrust of authors such as Cicero and Caesar – and recently even such paragons of accuracy as Polybius. Still, a few authors have earned our unconscious credence, it would seem, merely by dint of their artlessness; we simply do not respect them enough to doubt them. A case in point: Varro's De Re Rustica, a remarkable ensemble of three dialogues, a highly literary work, yet one whose obvious inadequacies have distracted readers from its attempts at literariness and consequently have led them to take its veracity for granted – even when it relates to items having little or nothing to do with agriculture. A brief passage in the third book of R.R. informs us, or rather seems to inform us, that what was perhaps republican Rome's most illustrious family, the Claudii Pulchri, was reduced to poverty in the seventies B.C. in the aftermath of the death of the consul of 79 – evidence that has been accepted widely by modern scholars. In this paper I hope to show that there is no good reason for believing Varro's Appius when he claims to have been pauperized by his father's death and, furthermore, that to do so is to fail to appreciate the artistry and wry humour with which Varro has composed Book Three. (shrink)

Review of a book Seeing the Face, Seeing the Soul. Polemon's Physiognomy from Classical Antiquity to Medieval Islam by S. Swain, George Boys-Stones, Jas Eisner, Antonella Ghersetti, Robert Hoyland, Ian Repath.