Look at Figures 4.5, 4.6 and 4.7, ‘funerary altar of Gaius Munatius Faustus’ (Block 4, pp.36-7), and read the following description:
This tomb is found, fronting the road, at the Herculaneum Gate cemetery at Pompeii. It dates to the mid first century AD and is in the form of an altar decorated with sculptural reliefs. On one side these depict a bisellium (a double seat) and footstool. This ‘double seat’ may have been utilised at the theatre, amphitheatre and other public events. A ship in full sail, manned by several figures, is depicted on the west side of the altar. On the front is a detailed scene, showing a ceremony of some kind, perhaps a distribution of grain or money by the deceased to the people of Pompeii. The epitaph reads ‘Naevolia Tyche, freedwoman of Lucius, for herself and for Gaius Munatius Faustus, an Augustalis, from the Country District, to whom the town councillors, with the consent of the people, decreed an honorific seat (bisellium) for his merits. Naevolia Tyche had this monument made in her lifetime for her own freedmen and freedwomen and those of Gaius Munatius Faustus’. A small bust of Naevolia Tyche is located in the floral frame that surrounds the inscription.
Consider these sources, and in no more than 500 words:
(i) Briefly provide the context;
(ii) Discuss any points of significance in respect of the following
a. Content
b. Form
c. The value as a source for understanding certain aspects of the Classical world
As Block 3 Part 1 notes, an important source for understanding ancient Rome from a non-elite perspective consists in funerary and sepulchral inscriptions. The tomb under consideration dates from the first century CE at which time most dead bodies were still cremated. The remains were placed in a container buried in the ground or housed in a tomb as here. To stand a chance of being noticed, tombs tended to face the roads, as a result of which cemeteries had an elongated shape. It was during this period that funerary monuments came into fashion for many freed slaves, even bringing the practice into disrepute for the better off; having too lavish a tomb could be seen as a sign of lesser social status. But for the many freedmen and women of Rome, such monuments provided an opportunity to make good their status as freed persons, having faced many social difficulties as a result.
Gaius Munatius Faustus was a freedman of relatively high social status, being an augustalis, a priest of the imperial cult. His tria nomina contains the praenomen and nomen of his ex-master, Gaius Munatius. As was the custom, the commemorator’s name also features on the epitaph (Naevolia Tyche); she was likely to be of freed status also. Like most epitaphs, the one under consideration, although relatively long, is condensed so as to focus on the name of the deceased and commemorator, the positions and honours received by the deceased, and some information concerning the beneficiaries of the tomb (in this case, their combined freed slaves). To prepare for the future in this way was done to secure the tomb’s maintenance and its longevity. We might also speculate and say that it does the deceased and the commemorator a special favour to be seen as having freed slaves of their own, a real sign of their progression on the social ladder. The epitaph is completed by pictorial representations on the tomb itself; on the east side we have a double seat, probably awarded as a privilege, and used at the theatre or amphitheatre. On the west side is a ship in full sail with its crew and could either be an indicator of the deceased’s occupation or simply of the passage into the afterlife. On the front, and hence most visible to the passer-by, is the deceased distributing corn or money to a crowd of people – an element of his occupation perhaps and his civic status, something he must have been proud of as it shows him in a position of power (giving the dole).
As is argued in the DVD, funerary monuments such as this one were a way to construct an identity for yourself and your descendants, presenting to the world those facets of your existence most worthy of remembrance. They can tell us a great deal about ancient Roman society from an angle which is not as elitist as ancient literature, which was the exclusive product of the well-to-do.
472 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Funerary altar of Gaius Munatius Faustus from the Herculaneum Gate cemetery, Pompeii, first century CE.
Modern scholarship
DVD 4, Section 1: Roman funerary monuments
Hope, V. And Huskinson, J. (2006) A219 Block 4: Rome – City and People, Milton Keynes: The Open University
dimanche 20 septembre 2009
Roman Baths
Answer the following question in no more than 2,000 words:
‘Bathing occupied a central position in the social life of the day’ (OCCC, p.115). To what extent does the available evidence support this claim about the Roman baths?
To determine whether or not the above statement is supported by primary evidence we must analyse and assess the latter. First, we will look at the archaeological evidence which alone provides solid proof that baths of some description existed in Ancient Rome and that they were not a rarity. We will then turn our attention to the literary evidence which is the main port of call for assessing the social significance of bathing during the Imperial period as well as the late Republic. Finally, in the light of modern scholarship, we will conclude on the extent to which the available evidence corroborates the OCCC statement in its entry on ‘baths’.
According to DVD 4, Section 3, track 1, baths in Ancient Rome were the largest consumers of water, itself a near-sacred commodity. Impressive remains exist of the vast aqueducts the Romans built for the transportation of water. This already gives us an idea of the scale of some of the baths in question, including the baths of Caracalla built near Rome in CE 211-6 by the emperor of that name. They occupied 12,000 m2 and as the DVD points out, were ‘designed to impress.’ Plate 48 of the Illustrations Book gives us a plan of the baths and reveals their architectural symmetry and the fact that thermae such as this one were large complexes featuring a vast amount of rooms and hallways, each with their own function; among them were the changing rooms, the warm and hot, cold and tepid rooms, all with their own basins and pools, and the palaestrae or exercise-areas. In addition, the general plan (Illustrations Book, Plate 47) indicates that the baths in question boasted extra facilities such as gardens, exercise-grounds and a library. There is also physical evidence that the thermae were intricately decorated (Illustrations Book, Plate 50-51) with statues and mosaics. This information supports the view that baths were socially prominent; for what else could justify such an expenditure of resources, financial and physical? In fact the evidence goes further: a lot of time must have been spent in these thermae given the graded nature of the baths going from hot to cold, not to mention the exercise areas, gardens and library. Clearly, bathing in these baths was far removed from the quick morning swim in the local swimming pool! That Roman baths were not a rarity can be deduced from catalogues of publicly accessible establishments which amount to about one thousand (G.G.Fagan, 1999, p.25 in Reading 4.26).
According to Garrett G. Fagan (2005, p.12 in Reading 4.28) there are few ancient descriptions of what a visit to the baths was like. One such a description, albeit only as a context for further moral teachings, is Seneca’s (c.4 BCE-CE 41) letter 56 (Reading 4.5) which features a survey of the baths from the viewpoint of the sound emanating from them. Indeed this letter gives us slightly more tangible and substantial evidence (compared to other literary sources) of what actually went on in the baths; for example he hears the grunts of those exercising, the smack of a hand massaging, the ball player shouting out the score, a brawl, the noise of someone caught thieving, somebody singing in the bath, the splashes of those leaping into the pool, the penetrating cries of those whose hairs are being removed and the various exclamations of the nearby merchants and sellers. From this narrative it is obvious that public baths were not only noisy but busy places bustling with people from all walks of life, including thieves and sellers, and that they were not strictly limited to bathing per se. In letter 86 (Reading 4.5) Seneca bemoans the move towards greater luxury in bathing and implies that baths can be in and out of fashion depending on the ‘novelties’ they provide. Fashions only concern mass phenomena so we can imagine that baths were such a phenomenon. Yet further evidence needs to be adduced to complete the picture: what was the nature of the social interactions that Seneca merely glosses over? Martial (CE 38-c.101 CE) in his epigrams illustrates the fact that the baths were the setting for many a social relationship, including between patron and client (3.36), between rivals (3.44) and between potential lovers or men and women (3.51). Epigram 1.59 also shows that dining and bathing were linked activities (Reading 4.2). Indeed in Petronius’ (-CE 66) Satyricon (26-28) the ‘beginning of dinner’ occurs at the baths in the midst of much social ostentation on the part of the host Trimalchio (Reading 4.3). These authors largely support the view that bathing was a central social activity.
Other evidence is less explicit in this regard. Ovid (43 BCE-CE17) and Horace (65 BCE-8 BCE) both refer to the baths in their poems (Art of Love, Book 3 and Satire 1.6 in Readings 4.12 and 4.16). It is no exaggeration to say that popular poets such as these speak for many in their verse. Thus, for Ovid, ‘public baths provide plenty of private fun for girls’ and for Horace the right time to have a bath is ‘when the sun grows fiercer’. Authors also have their preferences; both Martial and Statius (CE 45) (Epigram 6.42 in Reading 4.3 and Silvae 1.5 in Reading 4.17) praise the baths of Claudius Etruscus in their own different ways with Statius, in particular, drawing on mythological references and humour to make his point. Lucian (120 CE) and Vitruvius are more detached sources, focusing more on architecture and layout. What is striking about their viewpoint is how elaborate the design of the baths actually was and, to repeat a point made earlier on, such effort in construction would not be commendable if it were not for an important end, namely the building of a public bath. Pliny the Elder (c.CE 23-79) (Natural History 36.121) demonstrates the ubiquity of baths by noting that the number of public baths in Rome has ‘grown infinitely’ since the 170 known to have existed during the time of Agrippa in the second half of the first century BCE. Another pointer to the centrality of bathing in the social life of Rome is to be found in Celsus’ On Medicine 1.4 (Reading 4.23) which describes the procedure to be taken when entering the baths. Indeed, the medical aspects of bathing must have been a concern for many Romans. As observed by Inge Nielsen (1990 pp.144-8 in Reading 4.25), statues of Hygieia and Asclepius featured in some baths, bearing witness to the importance of hygiene, even at that time.
If baths occupied a central occupation in society what is the evidence pertaining to the bathing habits of the elite? The emperor Marcus Aurelius (CE 121-180) himself, in his Meditations (8.24) created an analogy between baths and ‘life in all its parts’ both bringing as they do ‘sweat, dirt, greasy water and everything that is disgusting.’ Suetonius (b. c. CE 70) in his Lives of the Caesars (Readings 4.15 and 4.19) shows how some emperors like Titus and Hadrian occasionally bathed in public. As was probably the case in the Circus or the amphitheatre, the common folk would have appreciated the proximity of the emperor to their world and the emperors in turn could reap the benefits (ECW, Essay Nine). If the emperor chose the baths to appear in public that must be a sign, if not proof, that they were socially key. On his tomb epitaph, the emperor Antoninus Pius (Corpus Inscriptiorum Latinarum XIV 98 in Reading 4.8) privileged the completion of public baths using quality material (marble) over his conquest of Parthia. As Natasha Zajac (1999, pp.100-105) argues, the dedication of public baths by the emperors could be seen as an expression of social supremacy, bringing them kudos and lasting power, the baths being highly frequented and used. Further evidence of this is to be found in Pliny’s (c. CE 61-c. 112) letters 10.23 and 10.39; in the first letter Pliny makes a plea to the emperor to support the rebuilding of a public bath in Prusa, a move Piny states worthy of Trajan’s (CE 53-117) reign. The permission and funds having been granted, Pliny asks the emperor in the second letter about the site to be used. Again he reaffirms the notion that ‘the splendid public monument will be worthy of [Trajan’s] name.’ That emperors of all people should be directly implicated in the building of public baths shows that their social significance was high¬ – indeed, no one could be seen to compete with the princeps on public matters of this importance. Pliny himself, owner as he was of many private baths and swimming pools (letters 2.17 and 5.6), ordered the construction of public baths in his will, a deed recorded on his epitaph (CIL V 5262 in Reading 4.8).
What about the lower social orders? It is common knowledge that even the very poorest had access to the public baths (Carcopino, 1941, p.254). As for slaves, there is some evidence that they were accepted free of charge in some specified baths but ordinarily visited the baths in their dependent capacity, i.e. as attendants (Fagan, 1999 pp.25-34 in Reading 4.26). This is borne out by, among others, Pliny’s letter 3.14 where a slave attendant causes a citizen to hit his master. Some inscriptions record popular perceptions of the baths. The most famous is that of Tiberius Claudius Secundus (CIL VI 15258 in Reading 4.8) who places baths on the same level as wine and sex (‘the essence of life’). Socially, it would seem, the baths constituted a microcosm of Rome itself (Zajac, 1999 in Reading 4.27).
In conclusion, the evidence tends to support the claim that ‘bathing occupied a central position in the social life of the day.’ However, hard evidence of what actually went on in the baths is hard to come by, as Garrett G. Fagan has pointed out (1999 in Reading 4.26). Rarely does a source consider bathing for its own sake; rather, it is alluded to in passing, as though it were something that most Romans took for granted. Perhaps this is due to the activity’s centrality; it was so common a practice that few had much to say about it, like eating or drinking wine. That said, one has to bear in mind that the evidence is not typical (Fagan, 1999); it is geographically and chronologically specific. Baths undoubtedly evolved during Rome’s long history and, with them, bathing habits. Thus, although we can accept the OCCC statement at first, the word ‘bathing’ encompasses many a social a reality, especially between rich and poor, and hence each source must be treated with care. In fact, we may contrast Tiberius Claudius Secundus’ epitaph (see above) with a letter by Pliny (letter 2.8) that replaces the word ‘sex’ with ‘cool springs.’ Bathing and the perception of it varied according to your background.
1,804 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Seneca, Letters from a Stoic, in Campbell, R. (ed and trans.) (1969), Harmondsworth: Penguin
Martial, Epigrams, in Shackleton Bailey, D.R. (ed and trans.) (1993) Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, vol.I
Petronius, The Satyricon, in Sullivan, J. (ed and trans.) (1965) The Satyricon and The Fragments, Harmondsworth: Penguin
Ovid, The Art of Love: Book 3 in Green, P. (ed and trans.) (1982) Ovid: The Erotic Poems, Harmondsworth: Penguin
Horace, Satire 1.6 in Rudd, N. (trans.) (1979) Horace: Satires and Epistles, Harmondsworth: Penguin, p.70
Statius, Silvae 1.5 in Shackleton Bailey, D.R. (ed and trans.) (2003) Statius: Silvae, Cambridge Mass: Harvard University Press
Lucian, Hippias or the Bath 5-8 in Harmon, A.M. (trans.) (1979) Lucian, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press
Vitruvius, On Baths 5.10 in Granger, F. (ed and trans.) (1962) Vitruvius: On Architecture, London: William Heinemann
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.121-23 in Eichholz, D.E. (trans.) (1971) Pliny: Natural History, London: William Heinemann
Celsus, On Medicine 1.4 in Spencer, W.G. (trans.) (1971) Celsus: De Medicina, London: William Heinemann
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations in Staniforth, M. (trans.) (1964) Harmondsworth: Penguin
Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars in Graves, R. (trans.) (1989) Harmondsworth: Penguin
Suetonius, Lives of the later Caesars in Birley, A. (trans.) Harmondsworth: Penguin
Radice, B. (trans.) (1963) The Letters of the Younger Pliny London: Penguin
Corpus Inscriptiorum Latinarum
Modern Scholarship
Hornblower, S. and Spawforth, A. (eds) (1998) The Oxford Companion to Classical Civilization, Oxford: Oxford University Press
DVD 4, Section 3, Track 1: The Baths of Caracalla
A219 Illustrations Book, Plates 47 and 48
Garrett G. Fagan (1999) ‘Interpreting the evidence: did slaves bathe at the baths?’ in DeLaine, J. And Johnston, D.E. (eds) Roman Baths and Bathing, Proceedings of the First International Conference on Roman Baths held at Bath, England, 30 March-4April 1992. Part : Bathing and Society, Portsmouth, Rhode Island, pp.25-34
Garrett G. Fagan (2005) ‘A visit to the baths with Martial’ in Fagan, G.G., Bathing in Public in the Roman World, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, pp.12-39
Nielsen, I. (1990) Thermae et Balnea: The Architecture and Cultural History of Roman Public Baths, vol.I text, Aarhus University Press, pp.144-48
Hope, V. (2006) ‘The voice of a Roman audience’ in Perkins, P. (ed.), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University, pp.193-212
Zajac, N. (1999) ‘The thermae: a policy of public health or personal legitimation?’ in DeLaine, J. And Johnston, D.E. (eds) Roman Baths and Bathing, Proceedings of the First International Conference on Roman Baths held at Bath, England, 30 March-4April 1992. Part : Bathing and Society, Portsmouth, Rhode Island, pp.100-105
Carponico, J. (1941) Daily Life in Ancient Rome, Toronto, Mitcham and Sea Point: Penguin
‘Bathing occupied a central position in the social life of the day’ (OCCC, p.115). To what extent does the available evidence support this claim about the Roman baths?
To determine whether or not the above statement is supported by primary evidence we must analyse and assess the latter. First, we will look at the archaeological evidence which alone provides solid proof that baths of some description existed in Ancient Rome and that they were not a rarity. We will then turn our attention to the literary evidence which is the main port of call for assessing the social significance of bathing during the Imperial period as well as the late Republic. Finally, in the light of modern scholarship, we will conclude on the extent to which the available evidence corroborates the OCCC statement in its entry on ‘baths’.
According to DVD 4, Section 3, track 1, baths in Ancient Rome were the largest consumers of water, itself a near-sacred commodity. Impressive remains exist of the vast aqueducts the Romans built for the transportation of water. This already gives us an idea of the scale of some of the baths in question, including the baths of Caracalla built near Rome in CE 211-6 by the emperor of that name. They occupied 12,000 m2 and as the DVD points out, were ‘designed to impress.’ Plate 48 of the Illustrations Book gives us a plan of the baths and reveals their architectural symmetry and the fact that thermae such as this one were large complexes featuring a vast amount of rooms and hallways, each with their own function; among them were the changing rooms, the warm and hot, cold and tepid rooms, all with their own basins and pools, and the palaestrae or exercise-areas. In addition, the general plan (Illustrations Book, Plate 47) indicates that the baths in question boasted extra facilities such as gardens, exercise-grounds and a library. There is also physical evidence that the thermae were intricately decorated (Illustrations Book, Plate 50-51) with statues and mosaics. This information supports the view that baths were socially prominent; for what else could justify such an expenditure of resources, financial and physical? In fact the evidence goes further: a lot of time must have been spent in these thermae given the graded nature of the baths going from hot to cold, not to mention the exercise areas, gardens and library. Clearly, bathing in these baths was far removed from the quick morning swim in the local swimming pool! That Roman baths were not a rarity can be deduced from catalogues of publicly accessible establishments which amount to about one thousand (G.G.Fagan, 1999, p.25 in Reading 4.26).
According to Garrett G. Fagan (2005, p.12 in Reading 4.28) there are few ancient descriptions of what a visit to the baths was like. One such a description, albeit only as a context for further moral teachings, is Seneca’s (c.4 BCE-CE 41) letter 56 (Reading 4.5) which features a survey of the baths from the viewpoint of the sound emanating from them. Indeed this letter gives us slightly more tangible and substantial evidence (compared to other literary sources) of what actually went on in the baths; for example he hears the grunts of those exercising, the smack of a hand massaging, the ball player shouting out the score, a brawl, the noise of someone caught thieving, somebody singing in the bath, the splashes of those leaping into the pool, the penetrating cries of those whose hairs are being removed and the various exclamations of the nearby merchants and sellers. From this narrative it is obvious that public baths were not only noisy but busy places bustling with people from all walks of life, including thieves and sellers, and that they were not strictly limited to bathing per se. In letter 86 (Reading 4.5) Seneca bemoans the move towards greater luxury in bathing and implies that baths can be in and out of fashion depending on the ‘novelties’ they provide. Fashions only concern mass phenomena so we can imagine that baths were such a phenomenon. Yet further evidence needs to be adduced to complete the picture: what was the nature of the social interactions that Seneca merely glosses over? Martial (CE 38-c.101 CE) in his epigrams illustrates the fact that the baths were the setting for many a social relationship, including between patron and client (3.36), between rivals (3.44) and between potential lovers or men and women (3.51). Epigram 1.59 also shows that dining and bathing were linked activities (Reading 4.2). Indeed in Petronius’ (-CE 66) Satyricon (26-28) the ‘beginning of dinner’ occurs at the baths in the midst of much social ostentation on the part of the host Trimalchio (Reading 4.3). These authors largely support the view that bathing was a central social activity.
Other evidence is less explicit in this regard. Ovid (43 BCE-CE17) and Horace (65 BCE-8 BCE) both refer to the baths in their poems (Art of Love, Book 3 and Satire 1.6 in Readings 4.12 and 4.16). It is no exaggeration to say that popular poets such as these speak for many in their verse. Thus, for Ovid, ‘public baths provide plenty of private fun for girls’ and for Horace the right time to have a bath is ‘when the sun grows fiercer’. Authors also have their preferences; both Martial and Statius (CE 45) (Epigram 6.42 in Reading 4.3 and Silvae 1.5 in Reading 4.17) praise the baths of Claudius Etruscus in their own different ways with Statius, in particular, drawing on mythological references and humour to make his point. Lucian (120 CE) and Vitruvius are more detached sources, focusing more on architecture and layout. What is striking about their viewpoint is how elaborate the design of the baths actually was and, to repeat a point made earlier on, such effort in construction would not be commendable if it were not for an important end, namely the building of a public bath. Pliny the Elder (c.CE 23-79) (Natural History 36.121) demonstrates the ubiquity of baths by noting that the number of public baths in Rome has ‘grown infinitely’ since the 170 known to have existed during the time of Agrippa in the second half of the first century BCE. Another pointer to the centrality of bathing in the social life of Rome is to be found in Celsus’ On Medicine 1.4 (Reading 4.23) which describes the procedure to be taken when entering the baths. Indeed, the medical aspects of bathing must have been a concern for many Romans. As observed by Inge Nielsen (1990 pp.144-8 in Reading 4.25), statues of Hygieia and Asclepius featured in some baths, bearing witness to the importance of hygiene, even at that time.
If baths occupied a central occupation in society what is the evidence pertaining to the bathing habits of the elite? The emperor Marcus Aurelius (CE 121-180) himself, in his Meditations (8.24) created an analogy between baths and ‘life in all its parts’ both bringing as they do ‘sweat, dirt, greasy water and everything that is disgusting.’ Suetonius (b. c. CE 70) in his Lives of the Caesars (Readings 4.15 and 4.19) shows how some emperors like Titus and Hadrian occasionally bathed in public. As was probably the case in the Circus or the amphitheatre, the common folk would have appreciated the proximity of the emperor to their world and the emperors in turn could reap the benefits (ECW, Essay Nine). If the emperor chose the baths to appear in public that must be a sign, if not proof, that they were socially key. On his tomb epitaph, the emperor Antoninus Pius (Corpus Inscriptiorum Latinarum XIV 98 in Reading 4.8) privileged the completion of public baths using quality material (marble) over his conquest of Parthia. As Natasha Zajac (1999, pp.100-105) argues, the dedication of public baths by the emperors could be seen as an expression of social supremacy, bringing them kudos and lasting power, the baths being highly frequented and used. Further evidence of this is to be found in Pliny’s (c. CE 61-c. 112) letters 10.23 and 10.39; in the first letter Pliny makes a plea to the emperor to support the rebuilding of a public bath in Prusa, a move Piny states worthy of Trajan’s (CE 53-117) reign. The permission and funds having been granted, Pliny asks the emperor in the second letter about the site to be used. Again he reaffirms the notion that ‘the splendid public monument will be worthy of [Trajan’s] name.’ That emperors of all people should be directly implicated in the building of public baths shows that their social significance was high¬ – indeed, no one could be seen to compete with the princeps on public matters of this importance. Pliny himself, owner as he was of many private baths and swimming pools (letters 2.17 and 5.6), ordered the construction of public baths in his will, a deed recorded on his epitaph (CIL V 5262 in Reading 4.8).
What about the lower social orders? It is common knowledge that even the very poorest had access to the public baths (Carcopino, 1941, p.254). As for slaves, there is some evidence that they were accepted free of charge in some specified baths but ordinarily visited the baths in their dependent capacity, i.e. as attendants (Fagan, 1999 pp.25-34 in Reading 4.26). This is borne out by, among others, Pliny’s letter 3.14 where a slave attendant causes a citizen to hit his master. Some inscriptions record popular perceptions of the baths. The most famous is that of Tiberius Claudius Secundus (CIL VI 15258 in Reading 4.8) who places baths on the same level as wine and sex (‘the essence of life’). Socially, it would seem, the baths constituted a microcosm of Rome itself (Zajac, 1999 in Reading 4.27).
In conclusion, the evidence tends to support the claim that ‘bathing occupied a central position in the social life of the day.’ However, hard evidence of what actually went on in the baths is hard to come by, as Garrett G. Fagan has pointed out (1999 in Reading 4.26). Rarely does a source consider bathing for its own sake; rather, it is alluded to in passing, as though it were something that most Romans took for granted. Perhaps this is due to the activity’s centrality; it was so common a practice that few had much to say about it, like eating or drinking wine. That said, one has to bear in mind that the evidence is not typical (Fagan, 1999); it is geographically and chronologically specific. Baths undoubtedly evolved during Rome’s long history and, with them, bathing habits. Thus, although we can accept the OCCC statement at first, the word ‘bathing’ encompasses many a social a reality, especially between rich and poor, and hence each source must be treated with care. In fact, we may contrast Tiberius Claudius Secundus’ epitaph (see above) with a letter by Pliny (letter 2.8) that replaces the word ‘sex’ with ‘cool springs.’ Bathing and the perception of it varied according to your background.
1,804 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Seneca, Letters from a Stoic, in Campbell, R. (ed and trans.) (1969), Harmondsworth: Penguin
Martial, Epigrams, in Shackleton Bailey, D.R. (ed and trans.) (1993) Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, vol.I
Petronius, The Satyricon, in Sullivan, J. (ed and trans.) (1965) The Satyricon and The Fragments, Harmondsworth: Penguin
Ovid, The Art of Love: Book 3 in Green, P. (ed and trans.) (1982) Ovid: The Erotic Poems, Harmondsworth: Penguin
Horace, Satire 1.6 in Rudd, N. (trans.) (1979) Horace: Satires and Epistles, Harmondsworth: Penguin, p.70
Statius, Silvae 1.5 in Shackleton Bailey, D.R. (ed and trans.) (2003) Statius: Silvae, Cambridge Mass: Harvard University Press
Lucian, Hippias or the Bath 5-8 in Harmon, A.M. (trans.) (1979) Lucian, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press
Vitruvius, On Baths 5.10 in Granger, F. (ed and trans.) (1962) Vitruvius: On Architecture, London: William Heinemann
Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.121-23 in Eichholz, D.E. (trans.) (1971) Pliny: Natural History, London: William Heinemann
Celsus, On Medicine 1.4 in Spencer, W.G. (trans.) (1971) Celsus: De Medicina, London: William Heinemann
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations in Staniforth, M. (trans.) (1964) Harmondsworth: Penguin
Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars in Graves, R. (trans.) (1989) Harmondsworth: Penguin
Suetonius, Lives of the later Caesars in Birley, A. (trans.) Harmondsworth: Penguin
Radice, B. (trans.) (1963) The Letters of the Younger Pliny London: Penguin
Corpus Inscriptiorum Latinarum
Modern Scholarship
Hornblower, S. and Spawforth, A. (eds) (1998) The Oxford Companion to Classical Civilization, Oxford: Oxford University Press
DVD 4, Section 3, Track 1: The Baths of Caracalla
A219 Illustrations Book, Plates 47 and 48
Garrett G. Fagan (1999) ‘Interpreting the evidence: did slaves bathe at the baths?’ in DeLaine, J. And Johnston, D.E. (eds) Roman Baths and Bathing, Proceedings of the First International Conference on Roman Baths held at Bath, England, 30 March-4April 1992. Part : Bathing and Society, Portsmouth, Rhode Island, pp.25-34
Garrett G. Fagan (2005) ‘A visit to the baths with Martial’ in Fagan, G.G., Bathing in Public in the Roman World, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, pp.12-39
Nielsen, I. (1990) Thermae et Balnea: The Architecture and Cultural History of Roman Public Baths, vol.I text, Aarhus University Press, pp.144-48
Hope, V. (2006) ‘The voice of a Roman audience’ in Perkins, P. (ed.), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University, pp.193-212
Zajac, N. (1999) ‘The thermae: a policy of public health or personal legitimation?’ in DeLaine, J. And Johnston, D.E. (eds) Roman Baths and Bathing, Proceedings of the First International Conference on Roman Baths held at Bath, England, 30 March-4April 1992. Part : Bathing and Society, Portsmouth, Rhode Island, pp.100-105
Carponico, J. (1941) Daily Life in Ancient Rome, Toronto, Mitcham and Sea Point: Penguin
vendredi 24 juillet 2009
Marius
Part 1 (source analysis question)
Read Sallust, The Jugurthine War, 85, ‘To live in luxury ... receive from another’ (Reading 3.20 in Readings Book 2). In no more than 500 words:
(i) Briefly provide its context;
(ii) Discuss any points of significance in respect of the following
a. Content
b. Form
c. The value as a source for understanding certain aspects of the Classical world
Sallust, the author of the text under consideration, was a Roman historian who was born in 86 BCE, the year of Marius’ seventh and final consulship. The extract is taken from his monograph of the war against Jugurtha, The Jugurthine War. This war caused an outcry of indignation in Rome by the way it was dealt with by Roman aristocrats and generals who succumbed to Jugurtha’s manipulative tactics of bribing the enemy into peace favourable to his interests. A commission was set up by the tribune Mamilius to investigate the matter and “aristocratic corruption generally” (Block 3, p.107). This provided Marius, an ambitious military man, with an opportunity to stir up the people and win popular support for his first consulship in 107 BCE. The extract seeks to capture this turn of events.
Sallust punctuates his monograph with a speech given by Marius to the people of Rome in which he decries the corruption of the ruling class and blames them for the failure to check Jugurtha’s illegitimate rule over Numidia. In particular he accuses the noblemen of double standards, of “subjecting [their] army to rigorous discipline” whilst living in luxury. Marius, on the other hand, took part in the nitty-gritty of military duties in Africa when serving under Metellus, his patron. In doing so, he won the affection of his fellow soldiers and convinced them to elect him for the next consulship (Reading 3.19). Whence his statement that “it was by conduct such as I recommend that your ancestors won renown for themselves and for the state.” Marius compares himself to the Romans of the ‘golden age’, in particular those who fought in the first two Punic Wars, thus winning the hearts of the common people. He contrasts his conduct with that of the noblemen, whose only achievement is to share in the past glory of their ancestors whilst failing to live up to their standards. Indeed they are, according to Marius, luxury-loving and idle yet expect to hold “all posts of honour” at the hands of the people. Although the theme of degeneration is evident, the speech is inflammatory because it reawakens the spectre of the Gracchi brothers whose popular legislation met with the opposition of the nobles. The tone used is threatening. Thus, he says, “these proud men make a very big mistake.” For, although they may have inherited “riches, portrait busts, and [...] glorious memory” they cannot lay claim to having inherited the “virtue” of their illustrious forebears, for, by its nature, virtue cannot be bequeathed. This is a very radical statement as it undermines head on the principle of heredity and the justification for aristocracy (which, etymologically, means rule by the ‘best’). Like the Gracchi brothers and Caesar after him, Marius is a demagogue, a man of the people, at least in appearance.
This anti-aristocratic speech, although clearly coloured by Sallust for the purposes of his monograph, gives us an insight into the very deep tensions of the late Republic, between the plebeians and the patricians. Indeed, this tension was so great that it created a rift among the ruling cast itself, as increasingly, ambitious politicians appealed to the people over and above the heads of the Senate and long-established families.
536 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Sallust, The Jugurthine War 85 in Handford, S.A. (trans.) (1963), Sallust, The Jugurthine War/The Conspiracy of Catiline, London: Penguin, pp.120-122
Plutarch, Life of Marius 7-8 in Warner, R. (trans.) (1972), Fall of the Roman Republic, Six Lives by Plutarch, London: Penguin, pp.18,20).
Modern Scholarship
Andrews, C., Fear, T. and Perkins, P. (2006) A219 Block 3: The Roman Republic, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Read Sallust, The Jugurthine War, 85, ‘To live in luxury ... receive from another’ (Reading 3.20 in Readings Book 2). In no more than 500 words:
(i) Briefly provide its context;
(ii) Discuss any points of significance in respect of the following
a. Content
b. Form
c. The value as a source for understanding certain aspects of the Classical world
Sallust, the author of the text under consideration, was a Roman historian who was born in 86 BCE, the year of Marius’ seventh and final consulship. The extract is taken from his monograph of the war against Jugurtha, The Jugurthine War. This war caused an outcry of indignation in Rome by the way it was dealt with by Roman aristocrats and generals who succumbed to Jugurtha’s manipulative tactics of bribing the enemy into peace favourable to his interests. A commission was set up by the tribune Mamilius to investigate the matter and “aristocratic corruption generally” (Block 3, p.107). This provided Marius, an ambitious military man, with an opportunity to stir up the people and win popular support for his first consulship in 107 BCE. The extract seeks to capture this turn of events.
Sallust punctuates his monograph with a speech given by Marius to the people of Rome in which he decries the corruption of the ruling class and blames them for the failure to check Jugurtha’s illegitimate rule over Numidia. In particular he accuses the noblemen of double standards, of “subjecting [their] army to rigorous discipline” whilst living in luxury. Marius, on the other hand, took part in the nitty-gritty of military duties in Africa when serving under Metellus, his patron. In doing so, he won the affection of his fellow soldiers and convinced them to elect him for the next consulship (Reading 3.19). Whence his statement that “it was by conduct such as I recommend that your ancestors won renown for themselves and for the state.” Marius compares himself to the Romans of the ‘golden age’, in particular those who fought in the first two Punic Wars, thus winning the hearts of the common people. He contrasts his conduct with that of the noblemen, whose only achievement is to share in the past glory of their ancestors whilst failing to live up to their standards. Indeed they are, according to Marius, luxury-loving and idle yet expect to hold “all posts of honour” at the hands of the people. Although the theme of degeneration is evident, the speech is inflammatory because it reawakens the spectre of the Gracchi brothers whose popular legislation met with the opposition of the nobles. The tone used is threatening. Thus, he says, “these proud men make a very big mistake.” For, although they may have inherited “riches, portrait busts, and [...] glorious memory” they cannot lay claim to having inherited the “virtue” of their illustrious forebears, for, by its nature, virtue cannot be bequeathed. This is a very radical statement as it undermines head on the principle of heredity and the justification for aristocracy (which, etymologically, means rule by the ‘best’). Like the Gracchi brothers and Caesar after him, Marius is a demagogue, a man of the people, at least in appearance.
This anti-aristocratic speech, although clearly coloured by Sallust for the purposes of his monograph, gives us an insight into the very deep tensions of the late Republic, between the plebeians and the patricians. Indeed, this tension was so great that it created a rift among the ruling cast itself, as increasingly, ambitious politicians appealed to the people over and above the heads of the Senate and long-established families.
536 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Sallust, The Jugurthine War 85 in Handford, S.A. (trans.) (1963), Sallust, The Jugurthine War/The Conspiracy of Catiline, London: Penguin, pp.120-122
Plutarch, Life of Marius 7-8 in Warner, R. (trans.) (1972), Fall of the Roman Republic, Six Lives by Plutarch, London: Penguin, pp.18,20).
Modern Scholarship
Andrews, C., Fear, T. and Perkins, P. (2006) A219 Block 3: The Roman Republic, Milton Keynes: The Open University
jeudi 23 juillet 2009
The Past in the Roman Republic
Part 2 (essay question)
Answer the following question in no more than 1,500 words:
‘What the Romans wrote about their past was strongly influenced by their present.’ Discuss this statement with reference to Roman society, culture and politics, using examples that you have studied.
A favourite quotation of Cicero’s was by the poet Ennius (239-169 BCE) who had written a narrative poem on the history of the Roman people, the Annales: “Moribus antiquis res stat Romana virisque.”1 For Cicero and his contemporaries it epitomized the debt they owed to their forebears and the admiration they held for the ‘golden age’ of Rome (Cowell, 1956). This notion of a ‘golden age’ of Rome was relatively common among the elite (Block 3, p.40) and found expression, as we shall see, in the works of various writers (such as Sallust, Livy and Horace) . Yet this glorification of the past had as its context the (out)growth of the Roman empire and the eventual demise of the Republican system. In other words, the more chaotic and torn Rome became, the more the past seemed to offer a measure of redemption, a tendency which culminated in the literature of the Principate of Augustus. With the exception of Virgil (70-19 BCE), who was a case apart as he was concerned with writing the founding myth of Rome in the Aeneid, the historians, poets and active politicians considered below undoubtedly adapted their vision of the past according to the requirements of their different agendas.
Another way in which the Romans linked to their past was through genealogy and the cult of their ancestors. A surviving example of this cult is to be found in the epitaphs dedicated, among others, to the Scipio family on their stone sarcophagi. Inscriptions celebrating the link between the past and the present also appeared on public monuments; thus the inscriptions of Augustus’ Res Gestae adorned bronze pillars outside his home in Rome and other monuments throughout the empire (Block 3, p.134). Let us therefore consider these sources and their respective contexts.
The problems of the present and the decline from past values are captured by the historian Sallust (86-35 BCE) (Reading 3.7). He notes that “by hard work and just dealing the power of the state increased” until Rome’s greatest rival, Carthage, was defeated in 146 BCE. “It was then that fortune turned unkind and confounded all her enterprises.” The spoils of war that naturally followed from victory, he says, “proved a burden and a curse.” They engendered in the Roman spirit the twin evils of avarice and ambition, “[destroying] honour and integrity” in their wake, and leading to religion being neglected. He characterizes the ascent of Sulla in scathing terms leading as it did to “universal robbery and pillage” and even his troops succumbed to oriental luxury, wine and women. Gone were the days of “our godfearing ancestors” who had been replaced by “bare successors” who knew no kind of rule other than that of oppression. Here, the author portrays the present (or at least, the very recent past) negatively in favour of the (more distant) past but it must be noted that this glorification of earlier generations would carry no force with it were it not for the apparent loss of scruple and order that followed the defeat of Carthage.
A similar but more subtle portrayal of past mores comes through the work of the Roman historian Livy (59 BCE-17 CE) (Reading 3.10). His use of exempla in his historical account of early Rome would have shown contemporary Romans “correct or righteous behaviour” (Block 3, p.46), that is to say, a virtuous path to follow. There is, for example, the episode involving Horatius Cocles who single-handedly kept Etruscan enemies in abeyance while his comrades burnt the bridge behind him, the only viable access to the inner city. Just as impressive is the feat of Caius Mucius who, after a failed attempt at stabbing the Etruscan king, burnt his right hand in defiance of his enemies who consequently granted him a pardon. The effect of these tales on later generations should not be underestimated. Witness an epigram by the poet Martial (c.38-c.101 CE) who recounts how he saw a representation of this event “in Caesar’s arena” and considered the act to be “glorious” (Block 3, p.49). Although extreme, the telling of these early feats of human will was no doubt designed “to help and inspire contemporary readers in their public life” (OCCC p.346), confirming the view that considerations about the present weighed heavily in the representation of the past.
It was such considerations that fuelled the celebrations of ancestors and family on the occasion of a funeral of one of the elite. Polybius (c.200-c.118 BCE) tells us that these were of a largely public character, featuring a speech on the deceased’s achievements and successes by his son or relative (Reading 3.12). The laudatio funebris would then embrace the exploits of other dead ancestors and “these orations were preserved for future exploitation” (Lintott, 1986). In some cases these achievements would be inscribed on the tomb of the deceased, as in the case of the Scipios. These inscriptions would list political offices held, military successes, public monuments in the deceased’s name and, more often than not, contain the names of the male forebears who had also achieved distinction. It was also fashionable in those times to boast divine or heroic ancestry to enhance the prestige of the family in the eyes of contemporaries (Block 3, p.71-2). Thus in the funerary oration for his aunt, Gaius Iulius Caesar claimed that she sprang from kings on her mother’s side and from Venus on her father’s side, his grandfather (Reading 3.13). This remarkable lineage of course reflected on Caesar himself who was proud in this instance to use the past to boost his status at the time he made the speech in 69 BCE.
The tie between past and present could be acute in the writing of history, especially when the author “told of events in which he had played a part” (OCCC, p.346), as in the case of Caesar’s Commentaries on his Gallic and Civil Wars. Through the use of third person narrative, Caesar purported to create a temporal distance between the actual events and his writing of them. Arguably, this device enhanced the historical dimension of the works. However, it has been argued (ECW, Essay six) that the commentaries were in fact disseminated during the campaigns, forming as it were a kind of correspondence from the front. If such was the case, here was an instance where the past, in the form of Caesar’s accounts, was actually determined by the present, namely the securing of a position back home as a leading Roman figure. Caesar being “a man of the people” (ECW, Essay six), the oral dissemination of these works would have hugely increased his popularity and constituted a deft political move.
An equally self-serving account of the recent past was the Res Gestae of the princeps Augustus. This account of his own life sought to create a link between Rome’s golden age and his personal rule. Thus, he claimed that he “transferred the republic back from my power into the authority of the senate and people of Rome” and that “after this time [27 BCE] I surpassed all in status yet I held no more power than those who were my colleagues in office” (Block 3, pp.134-5). However we choose to view this high-handed statement, the fact is it sought to strengthen Augustus’ legitimacy as a ruler by creating the impression that he was in fact restoring Rome to her former greatness. He also justified his legislative programme in similar terms: “I recalled many ancestral habits that were disappearing from our own way of life and I myself handed down many exemplary habits to be imitated by posterity” (Block 3, p.139). Again, only the past seemed to offer legitimacy to present political decisions and this philosophy can be detected in the work of the poet Horace (65-8 BCE).
Horace’s Ode 3.6 (Reading 3.25) decries the loss of piety in Rome which, in his view, was a major cause in Roman military defeats and the turmoil of the Civil War. He urges his readers to “atone for the crimes of [their] fathers” by restoring the temples and shrines of the gods, a policy which Augustus successfully pursued. He then deplores the pollution of “marriage, children and households” (Block 3, p.151) through a decline in morality and the pervasiveness of “sin.” Again, these ‘problems’ were addressed by Augustus in his legislation on marriage and adultery. For our purposes, however, most interesting are the final stanzas of the poem where his “graphic image of contemporary depravity [leads] into a contrasting picture of past virtue” (Block 3, p.151), be it in terms of military success, righteous behaviour or rural habits. His last verse concludes on a pessimistic note of inevitable degeneration through time. Like Sallust, Horace relates to the Roman past as an idyll which, although corrupted through time and religious neglect, should continue to inspire contemporary Romans to act the right way. It also paved the way for the reforms of Augustus who posed as the saviour of the Republic.
1,533 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Sallust, The Conspiracy of Catiline 1.10-13 in Handford, S.A. (trans.) (1963), The Jugurthine War/The Conspiracy of Catiline, London: Penguin, pp.181-83
Livy, 2.10-13 in de Selincout, A. (trans.) (1967), The Early History of Rome, Books I-IV The History of Rome from its foundation, London: Penguin, pp.98-104)
Martial, Epigrams 8.30
Polybius, 6.53 in Scott-Kilvert, I. (trans.) (1979) Polybius, The Rise of the Roman Empire, London: Penguin, pp.346-47)
Horace, Delicta maiorum, in Shepherd, W.G. (trans.) (1983) Horace: The Complete Odes and Epodes, London: Penguin pp.138-40; Bennett, C.E. (trans.) (1978) Horace: the Odes and Epodes, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press and London, Heinemann
Modern Scholarship
Cowell, F.R. (1956) Cicero and the Roman Republic, London and Chochester: Pelican Books
Andrews, C., Fear, T. and Perkins, P. (2006) A219 Block 3: The Roman Republic, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Hornblower, S. and Spawforth, A. (eds) (1998) The Oxford Companion to Classical Civilization, Oxford: Oxford University Press
Lintott, A. (1986) ‘Roman Historians’ in Boardman, J., Griffin, J. and Murray, O. (eds), The Oxford History of the Roman World, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press
Wiseman, T.P. (1974) ‘Legendary Genealogies in Late Republican Rome’ in Greece and Rome, 2nd series, vol.21, no.2, pp.153-64)
James, P. (2006) ‘Roman reputations: famous figures and false impressions in the late republic’ in Perkins, P. (ed.), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Answer the following question in no more than 1,500 words:
‘What the Romans wrote about their past was strongly influenced by their present.’ Discuss this statement with reference to Roman society, culture and politics, using examples that you have studied.
A favourite quotation of Cicero’s was by the poet Ennius (239-169 BCE) who had written a narrative poem on the history of the Roman people, the Annales: “Moribus antiquis res stat Romana virisque.”1 For Cicero and his contemporaries it epitomized the debt they owed to their forebears and the admiration they held for the ‘golden age’ of Rome (Cowell, 1956). This notion of a ‘golden age’ of Rome was relatively common among the elite (Block 3, p.40) and found expression, as we shall see, in the works of various writers (such as Sallust, Livy and Horace) . Yet this glorification of the past had as its context the (out)growth of the Roman empire and the eventual demise of the Republican system. In other words, the more chaotic and torn Rome became, the more the past seemed to offer a measure of redemption, a tendency which culminated in the literature of the Principate of Augustus. With the exception of Virgil (70-19 BCE), who was a case apart as he was concerned with writing the founding myth of Rome in the Aeneid, the historians, poets and active politicians considered below undoubtedly adapted their vision of the past according to the requirements of their different agendas.
Another way in which the Romans linked to their past was through genealogy and the cult of their ancestors. A surviving example of this cult is to be found in the epitaphs dedicated, among others, to the Scipio family on their stone sarcophagi. Inscriptions celebrating the link between the past and the present also appeared on public monuments; thus the inscriptions of Augustus’ Res Gestae adorned bronze pillars outside his home in Rome and other monuments throughout the empire (Block 3, p.134). Let us therefore consider these sources and their respective contexts.
The problems of the present and the decline from past values are captured by the historian Sallust (86-35 BCE) (Reading 3.7). He notes that “by hard work and just dealing the power of the state increased” until Rome’s greatest rival, Carthage, was defeated in 146 BCE. “It was then that fortune turned unkind and confounded all her enterprises.” The spoils of war that naturally followed from victory, he says, “proved a burden and a curse.” They engendered in the Roman spirit the twin evils of avarice and ambition, “[destroying] honour and integrity” in their wake, and leading to religion being neglected. He characterizes the ascent of Sulla in scathing terms leading as it did to “universal robbery and pillage” and even his troops succumbed to oriental luxury, wine and women. Gone were the days of “our godfearing ancestors” who had been replaced by “bare successors” who knew no kind of rule other than that of oppression. Here, the author portrays the present (or at least, the very recent past) negatively in favour of the (more distant) past but it must be noted that this glorification of earlier generations would carry no force with it were it not for the apparent loss of scruple and order that followed the defeat of Carthage.
A similar but more subtle portrayal of past mores comes through the work of the Roman historian Livy (59 BCE-17 CE) (Reading 3.10). His use of exempla in his historical account of early Rome would have shown contemporary Romans “correct or righteous behaviour” (Block 3, p.46), that is to say, a virtuous path to follow. There is, for example, the episode involving Horatius Cocles who single-handedly kept Etruscan enemies in abeyance while his comrades burnt the bridge behind him, the only viable access to the inner city. Just as impressive is the feat of Caius Mucius who, after a failed attempt at stabbing the Etruscan king, burnt his right hand in defiance of his enemies who consequently granted him a pardon. The effect of these tales on later generations should not be underestimated. Witness an epigram by the poet Martial (c.38-c.101 CE) who recounts how he saw a representation of this event “in Caesar’s arena” and considered the act to be “glorious” (Block 3, p.49). Although extreme, the telling of these early feats of human will was no doubt designed “to help and inspire contemporary readers in their public life” (OCCC p.346), confirming the view that considerations about the present weighed heavily in the representation of the past.
It was such considerations that fuelled the celebrations of ancestors and family on the occasion of a funeral of one of the elite. Polybius (c.200-c.118 BCE) tells us that these were of a largely public character, featuring a speech on the deceased’s achievements and successes by his son or relative (Reading 3.12). The laudatio funebris would then embrace the exploits of other dead ancestors and “these orations were preserved for future exploitation” (Lintott, 1986). In some cases these achievements would be inscribed on the tomb of the deceased, as in the case of the Scipios. These inscriptions would list political offices held, military successes, public monuments in the deceased’s name and, more often than not, contain the names of the male forebears who had also achieved distinction. It was also fashionable in those times to boast divine or heroic ancestry to enhance the prestige of the family in the eyes of contemporaries (Block 3, p.71-2). Thus in the funerary oration for his aunt, Gaius Iulius Caesar claimed that she sprang from kings on her mother’s side and from Venus on her father’s side, his grandfather (Reading 3.13). This remarkable lineage of course reflected on Caesar himself who was proud in this instance to use the past to boost his status at the time he made the speech in 69 BCE.
The tie between past and present could be acute in the writing of history, especially when the author “told of events in which he had played a part” (OCCC, p.346), as in the case of Caesar’s Commentaries on his Gallic and Civil Wars. Through the use of third person narrative, Caesar purported to create a temporal distance between the actual events and his writing of them. Arguably, this device enhanced the historical dimension of the works. However, it has been argued (ECW, Essay six) that the commentaries were in fact disseminated during the campaigns, forming as it were a kind of correspondence from the front. If such was the case, here was an instance where the past, in the form of Caesar’s accounts, was actually determined by the present, namely the securing of a position back home as a leading Roman figure. Caesar being “a man of the people” (ECW, Essay six), the oral dissemination of these works would have hugely increased his popularity and constituted a deft political move.
An equally self-serving account of the recent past was the Res Gestae of the princeps Augustus. This account of his own life sought to create a link between Rome’s golden age and his personal rule. Thus, he claimed that he “transferred the republic back from my power into the authority of the senate and people of Rome” and that “after this time [27 BCE] I surpassed all in status yet I held no more power than those who were my colleagues in office” (Block 3, pp.134-5). However we choose to view this high-handed statement, the fact is it sought to strengthen Augustus’ legitimacy as a ruler by creating the impression that he was in fact restoring Rome to her former greatness. He also justified his legislative programme in similar terms: “I recalled many ancestral habits that were disappearing from our own way of life and I myself handed down many exemplary habits to be imitated by posterity” (Block 3, p.139). Again, only the past seemed to offer legitimacy to present political decisions and this philosophy can be detected in the work of the poet Horace (65-8 BCE).
Horace’s Ode 3.6 (Reading 3.25) decries the loss of piety in Rome which, in his view, was a major cause in Roman military defeats and the turmoil of the Civil War. He urges his readers to “atone for the crimes of [their] fathers” by restoring the temples and shrines of the gods, a policy which Augustus successfully pursued. He then deplores the pollution of “marriage, children and households” (Block 3, p.151) through a decline in morality and the pervasiveness of “sin.” Again, these ‘problems’ were addressed by Augustus in his legislation on marriage and adultery. For our purposes, however, most interesting are the final stanzas of the poem where his “graphic image of contemporary depravity [leads] into a contrasting picture of past virtue” (Block 3, p.151), be it in terms of military success, righteous behaviour or rural habits. His last verse concludes on a pessimistic note of inevitable degeneration through time. Like Sallust, Horace relates to the Roman past as an idyll which, although corrupted through time and religious neglect, should continue to inspire contemporary Romans to act the right way. It also paved the way for the reforms of Augustus who posed as the saviour of the Republic.
1,533 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Sallust, The Conspiracy of Catiline 1.10-13 in Handford, S.A. (trans.) (1963), The Jugurthine War/The Conspiracy of Catiline, London: Penguin, pp.181-83
Livy, 2.10-13 in de Selincout, A. (trans.) (1967), The Early History of Rome, Books I-IV The History of Rome from its foundation, London: Penguin, pp.98-104)
Martial, Epigrams 8.30
Polybius, 6.53 in Scott-Kilvert, I. (trans.) (1979) Polybius, The Rise of the Roman Empire, London: Penguin, pp.346-47)
Horace, Delicta maiorum, in Shepherd, W.G. (trans.) (1983) Horace: The Complete Odes and Epodes, London: Penguin pp.138-40; Bennett, C.E. (trans.) (1978) Horace: the Odes and Epodes, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press and London, Heinemann
Modern Scholarship
Cowell, F.R. (1956) Cicero and the Roman Republic, London and Chochester: Pelican Books
Andrews, C., Fear, T. and Perkins, P. (2006) A219 Block 3: The Roman Republic, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Hornblower, S. and Spawforth, A. (eds) (1998) The Oxford Companion to Classical Civilization, Oxford: Oxford University Press
Lintott, A. (1986) ‘Roman Historians’ in Boardman, J., Griffin, J. and Murray, O. (eds), The Oxford History of the Roman World, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press
Wiseman, T.P. (1974) ‘Legendary Genealogies in Late Republican Rome’ in Greece and Rome, 2nd series, vol.21, no.2, pp.153-64)
James, P. (2006) ‘Roman reputations: famous figures and false impressions in the late republic’ in Perkins, P. (ed.), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University
mardi 26 mai 2009
Lysistrata
Read Aristophanes, Lysistrata, lines 167-83, ‘CALONICE: Well, if that’s what you both think ... LAMPITO: ... we are ready to swear.’ Consider the above passage in no more than 500 words:
(i) Briefly provide its context;
(ii) Consider how far this passage, while at first sight appearing to be written for comic effect, nevertheless has serious issues underlying it.
This passage is taken from the prologue of Lysistrata by Aristophanes. It occurs before the parodos, the entrance of the chorus on stage. Lysistrata has outlined her plan to the Greek women gathered around her¬ – ¬“we must abstain from – cock and balls” (124). It is an important exchange between Lysistrata, the Athenian, and Lampito, the Spartan. The passage ends with the all-important pledging of the oath to enforce the plan. The two leading women also encourage each other, in a kind of friendly rivalry, to demonstrate their power over their respective menfolk. Further, challenged by Lampito, Lysistrata pledges herself to a practical political act – the seizure of the Acropolis, i.e. physically to block access to the temple that houses the state treasury.
The comic effect of the passage stems from the absurdity of the exchange. That women should be able, through sexual abstinence, to provoke peace is clearly a fantasy. The humour thus stems from the apparent seriousness of what is said, including the pledging of an oath, with the very shaky premise of the play. As is clear from the exchange, the immediate issue at stake is the apparently never ending conflict with Sparta. The war has exhausted both human and material resources on both sides. Furthermore, the structure of Athenian democracy itself has become increasingly under threat, following the disastrous Sicilian expedition (BHAG, p.213-17). The return of the tyranny of Hippias is often trailed as a threat (Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 619). The second and more central issue, from the point of view of the comedy, is the unprecedented political role played by the women of Athens and Sparta. The comedy may seem to the males of the audience as a pure fantasy given the traditionally subservient role of women during that period (OCCC p.777, BHAG pp. 157-161). He cleverly chooses the one instance of communal power the women did have in 5th century Athens, viz their specific role in all-women religious ceremonies (such as the Greek festivals of Aphrodite and Demeter that involved sexual humour, OCCC p.779) to drive the point home and this is confirmed by the fact that “the over-age women have instructions [...] to seize the Acropolis under pretence of making a sacrifice” (176-9). Lysistrata herself reminds her audience of such gatherings in the opening lines of the play (Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 1-2). Aristophanes does this specifically to counter the otherwise preposterous premise of the play. At this point, to see the play as in any way a proto-feminist tract would be a serious misreading because the real power the women wield in it is entirely based on their sexuality such as in the scene between Cinesias and Myrrhine (Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 829-1013). A third issue lies in the deprecation of Athens in the mouth of Lampito: “how is one going to persuade that riffraff not to act barmy?” (170-1). On a superficial level, of course, this statement illustrates what the Spartans typically think of the democratic Athenians. But that Aristophanes should make such a side-comment in his play is revealing of a certain loss of Athenian self-esteem following the set-back of the war and of the Sicilian expedition. While the play as a whole portrays Sparta in a favourable light, this barely implicit jibe at Athens’ reputation is revealing of Aristophanes’ trenchant humour and satirical power.
549 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 167-83, in Sommerstein, A.H. (trans.), Oxford: Oxbow Books, pp.15-53
Modern scholarship
Budelmann, F., Hardwick, L. and Robson, J. (2006) A219: Block 2: Classical Athens, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Pomeroy, S.B., Burnstein, S.M., Donlan, W. And Roberts, J.T. (2004) A Brief History of Ancient Greece: Politics, Society and Culture, Oxford: Oxford University Press
Hornblower, S. And Spawforth, A. (eds) (1998) The Oxford Companion to Classical Civilization, Oxford: Oxford University Press
(i) Briefly provide its context;
(ii) Consider how far this passage, while at first sight appearing to be written for comic effect, nevertheless has serious issues underlying it.
This passage is taken from the prologue of Lysistrata by Aristophanes. It occurs before the parodos, the entrance of the chorus on stage. Lysistrata has outlined her plan to the Greek women gathered around her¬ – ¬“we must abstain from – cock and balls” (124). It is an important exchange between Lysistrata, the Athenian, and Lampito, the Spartan. The passage ends with the all-important pledging of the oath to enforce the plan. The two leading women also encourage each other, in a kind of friendly rivalry, to demonstrate their power over their respective menfolk. Further, challenged by Lampito, Lysistrata pledges herself to a practical political act – the seizure of the Acropolis, i.e. physically to block access to the temple that houses the state treasury.
The comic effect of the passage stems from the absurdity of the exchange. That women should be able, through sexual abstinence, to provoke peace is clearly a fantasy. The humour thus stems from the apparent seriousness of what is said, including the pledging of an oath, with the very shaky premise of the play. As is clear from the exchange, the immediate issue at stake is the apparently never ending conflict with Sparta. The war has exhausted both human and material resources on both sides. Furthermore, the structure of Athenian democracy itself has become increasingly under threat, following the disastrous Sicilian expedition (BHAG, p.213-17). The return of the tyranny of Hippias is often trailed as a threat (Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 619). The second and more central issue, from the point of view of the comedy, is the unprecedented political role played by the women of Athens and Sparta. The comedy may seem to the males of the audience as a pure fantasy given the traditionally subservient role of women during that period (OCCC p.777, BHAG pp. 157-161). He cleverly chooses the one instance of communal power the women did have in 5th century Athens, viz their specific role in all-women religious ceremonies (such as the Greek festivals of Aphrodite and Demeter that involved sexual humour, OCCC p.779) to drive the point home and this is confirmed by the fact that “the over-age women have instructions [...] to seize the Acropolis under pretence of making a sacrifice” (176-9). Lysistrata herself reminds her audience of such gatherings in the opening lines of the play (Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 1-2). Aristophanes does this specifically to counter the otherwise preposterous premise of the play. At this point, to see the play as in any way a proto-feminist tract would be a serious misreading because the real power the women wield in it is entirely based on their sexuality such as in the scene between Cinesias and Myrrhine (Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 829-1013). A third issue lies in the deprecation of Athens in the mouth of Lampito: “how is one going to persuade that riffraff not to act barmy?” (170-1). On a superficial level, of course, this statement illustrates what the Spartans typically think of the democratic Athenians. But that Aristophanes should make such a side-comment in his play is revealing of a certain loss of Athenian self-esteem following the set-back of the war and of the Sicilian expedition. While the play as a whole portrays Sparta in a favourable light, this barely implicit jibe at Athens’ reputation is revealing of Aristophanes’ trenchant humour and satirical power.
549 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 167-83, in Sommerstein, A.H. (trans.), Oxford: Oxbow Books, pp.15-53
Modern scholarship
Budelmann, F., Hardwick, L. and Robson, J. (2006) A219: Block 2: Classical Athens, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Pomeroy, S.B., Burnstein, S.M., Donlan, W. And Roberts, J.T. (2004) A Brief History of Ancient Greece: Politics, Society and Culture, Oxford: Oxford University Press
Hornblower, S. And Spawforth, A. (eds) (1998) The Oxford Companion to Classical Civilization, Oxford: Oxford University Press
The Acropolis
Answer the following question in no more than 1,500 words:
‘A conscious programme of display.’ Making close reference to the art and architecture of the Acropolis, explain and illustrate what is meant by this phrase. Then take any one of the other sources you have studied in Block 2, and briefly analyse the comparisons and contrasts that may be made between this source and the Acropolis in this matter of display.
If the Acropolis in Athens is to be treated as ‘a conscious programme of display’ (Block 2, p.76) we must briefly look at the historical and political context in which it was built so as to understand the purpose and nature of the undertaking. We can then seek to interpret the remaining material evidence of the Acropolis in the light of that building programme. As we shall see, the material evidence carries with it a metaphysical dimension as well as an obvious physical one. We shall then briefly draw an analogy between the intended effect of the Acropolis and Thucydides’s rendering of Pericles’s speech dedicated to those who fought and died in the first year of the Great Peloponnesian War in 431 BCE.
By the time the Athenians, and Pericles first among them, turned their attention to re-building the site of the Acropolis in the middle of the fifth century BCE ¬-- a site which had been sacked by the Persians in 480 BCE and left largely untouched since then -- the Athenian empire was very much alive, although weakened by a revolt in Euboea and the defection of Megara to the Peloponnesian league. A connection was made in the mind of ordinary Athenian citizens between the radical democratic constitution in Athens and the possession of the empire bringing wealth and success to the polis (Joint Association of Classical Teachers, 2008, p.26). Indeed, after Xerxes’s defeat, Athens became a major cultural centre (BHAG, p.138) and some of the money received from the league against Persia led by Athens was used to celebrate religious festivals and to build magnificent buildings, such as the Parthenon in 447 BCE (ibid).
As “the guiding spirit of Athenian imperialism” (BHAG, p.145) Pericles instigated the building of this temple and others, all adorned with sculptures, on the Acropolis meaning ‘city-top’ or ‘citadel’ (JACT, 2008, p.74). According to the same source (2008, p.26) “there is little doubt that, from the first, these buildings made a statement about Athenian power and superiority. Through them, Athens presented herself as a city fit to be the leader of an empire.” Pericles justified this display of power in the following terms, according to Plutarch (Life of Pericles, 12.4): “It is fair that the city, once she has been equipped with what is necessary for war, should turn the surplus over to works which, when completed, will bring her everlasting glory.” Democratically, the public building would, appropriately, “stir every hand until almost the whole city will be under contract” (Plutarch, Life of Pericles, 12.4). In what way then does the Acropolis symbolise an imperial, yet democratic, programme?
The first point to note is that of location (Illustrations Book, Plate 3). The Acropolis is situated on a rocky hillside that rises 120 m from the surrounding plain (JACT, 2008, p.74). This made it “a natural place of refuge in time of trouble” (ibid). Secondly, on top of being “the central fortress,” the Acropolis is “the principal sanctuary of Athena, patron goddess of the city” (OCCC, p.93). One of the first monuments to be erected after the sack by the Persians was a bronze statue of Athena Promachos “set up to celebrate victory over the Persians” (ibid). This statue was visible from what was to later be the Propylaea, the gateway building to the Acropolis (Illustrations Book, Plate 10). Towards the end of the fifth century, the statue was housed in the most sacred of the temples of the Acropolis, the Erechtheion. Thus, the imperial implications of the Acropolis are evident from the outset, chronologically and geographically; at its entrance lay a statue celebrating that victory which was instrumental in the formation of the Athenian empire.
Next came the Parthenon, undoubtedly the most known and celebrated monument of the Acropolis. Temple to Athena, housing an unprecedented gold and ivory statue of the goddess, the Parthenon also served as the state treasury (Block 2, p.74) confirming its status as “a monument to Athens’ imperial position” (JACT, 2008, p.80). Indeed, the move of the treasury of the Delian league from Delos to Athens in 454 BCE (Block 2, p.74) marks the beginning of what is now called the Athenian empire. This was no ordinary treasury however. The Parthenon was “the largest temple of its day” (ibid), positioned in the centre of the Acropolis and visible from afar, to friends and foe alike (Experiencing the Classical World, p.98). Especially of interest are the temple’s sculptures, i.e. the pediments, the metopes and the endlessly controversial frieze. Together these can be viewed “as celebrating Athens’ spiritual life, military prowess and cultural pre-eminence” (ECW, p.99).
The pediments, for example, depict, on the east end, the birth of Athena, and on the west end, the contest between her and Poseidon for the possession of the land (Readings Book 1, Reading 2.6., Pausanias 1.24.5). These pediments portray the power of the polis as having divine origin (birth of Athena) on the one hand and divine sanction (reign of Athena) on the other. The metopes “depict various battles between the powers of civilisation and groups that are somehow uncivilised – the gods battle against the giants, the Greeks against the Amazons” (ECW, p.99). The message thus conveyed is unequivocal: Athens is the bastion of civilisation, Hellenism, and has to assert herself in the struggle against un-Greek barbarians on the one hand, and possibly undemocratic Greek poleis on the other, i.e. poleis not forming part of her empire, the chief among them being Sparta.
The frieze itself is said to depict the festival of the Panathenaia, dedicated to the patron goddess Athena, and certainly suggests as much in terms of the procession it depicts although its actual constitution is somewhat mythical, if not aristocratic, with a predominance of cavalry and charioteers (Robin Osbourne, 1987, pp.103-104). Nevertheless, the fact that the procession (which was all-inclusive in that all members of the polis, citizens and denizens alike, took part in it) made its way to the Parthenon frieze shows that the building programme was open to influences which were not solely those of the powerful. The frieze is a loose but undeniable representation of unity and not of struggle, like the metopes.
In his essay on Classical Athens (ECW, pp.99-100), James Robson points out the thematic unity of the Acropolis as a whole. Thus the already mentioned statue of Athena Parthenos included “a shield sculpted with scenes of the battles between both gods and giants and Greeks and Amazons [and] sandals whose decoration included the battle between Lapiths and centaurs (all motifs found on the temple’s metopes).” In addition, the Parthenos statue could be seen as complementing the already mentioned Promachos statue, while the temple of Athena Nike that sits just outside of the Acropolis boasts a frieze representing the battle of Marathon which was a major Greek victory against the first Persian invasion by Darius. Rather like the Parthenon frieze, an actual event, in this case a battle, had entered the world of myth and was thus fit to be the object of a temple’s decoration.
A similar glorification of past deeds is to be found in Pericles’ Funeral Speech dedicated to those who died in the first year of the Great Peloponnesian War in 431 BCE (Readings Book 1, Reading 2.8 Thucydides 2.34-46). In 2.36 Pericles glorifies, alongside “our ancestors,” “our own fathers, who added to their inheritance the empire which we now possess.” The not- too-distant past, symbolised by the battle of Marathon on the temple of Athena Nike, features in the opening words of the statesman’s speech. In 2.43 he notes that “heroes have the whole earth for their tomb.” The following sentence in 2.41 sums up the building programme on the Acropolis: “the admiration of the present and succeeding ages will be ours, since we have not left our power without witness, but have shown it by mighty proofs.”
As with the Parthenon frieze, there is no reference in the speech to named individuals or fighting units, although the war dead were mainly cavalry, i.e. from the upper-classes. Athens being a democracy of sorts, Pericles was careful not to single out any individuals or groups of individuals which would undermine the unity of the state. The emphasis is on participation, and there is no doubt that the construction of the Acropolis entailed a wide participation from the citizen and non-citizen body alike, as noted above. Intriguingly, Thucydides puts the following words in Pericles’ mouth: “For Athens alone of her contemporaries is found when tested to be greater than her reputation.” This sits oddly with Thucydides’ own statement (Thucydides 1.10) that were Athens to be found in ruins, “one would conjecture from what met the eye that the city had been twice as powerful as in fact it is.” This, if anything, points to the success of the Acropolis in conveying the power of Athens and her empire, making her, to quote Pericles, “the school of Hellas.” Pericles’s observation in 2.45 that the most ‘glorious’ women keep themselves discreet is mirrored in the aforementioned frieze in which a tiny minority of women figure.
1,510 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Plutarch, Life of Pericles
Pausanias, Guide to Greece, vol.1, in Levi, P. (trans.) (1979 [1971]), Hammondsworth: Penguin, pp.69-70)
Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, 2.34-46, in Crawley, R. (trans.) (1997), Ware: Wordsworth Editions, pp.93-100
Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, 1.10, in Crawley, R. (trans.) (1997), Ware: Wordsworth Editions
Modern scholarship
Budelmann, F., Hardwick, L. and Robson, J. (2006) A219: Block 2: Classical Athens, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Joint Association of Classical Teachers (2008) The World of Athens, Cambridge and NY: Cambridge University Press
Pomeroy, S.B., Burnstein, S.M., Donlan, W. And Roberts, J.T. (2004) A Brief History of Ancient Greece: Politics, Society and Culture, Oxford: Oxford University Press
Robson, J. (2006) ‘Self and Society in Classical Athens’ in Perkins, P. (ed.), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University
A219 Illustrations Book
‘A conscious programme of display.’ Making close reference to the art and architecture of the Acropolis, explain and illustrate what is meant by this phrase. Then take any one of the other sources you have studied in Block 2, and briefly analyse the comparisons and contrasts that may be made between this source and the Acropolis in this matter of display.
If the Acropolis in Athens is to be treated as ‘a conscious programme of display’ (Block 2, p.76) we must briefly look at the historical and political context in which it was built so as to understand the purpose and nature of the undertaking. We can then seek to interpret the remaining material evidence of the Acropolis in the light of that building programme. As we shall see, the material evidence carries with it a metaphysical dimension as well as an obvious physical one. We shall then briefly draw an analogy between the intended effect of the Acropolis and Thucydides’s rendering of Pericles’s speech dedicated to those who fought and died in the first year of the Great Peloponnesian War in 431 BCE.
By the time the Athenians, and Pericles first among them, turned their attention to re-building the site of the Acropolis in the middle of the fifth century BCE ¬-- a site which had been sacked by the Persians in 480 BCE and left largely untouched since then -- the Athenian empire was very much alive, although weakened by a revolt in Euboea and the defection of Megara to the Peloponnesian league. A connection was made in the mind of ordinary Athenian citizens between the radical democratic constitution in Athens and the possession of the empire bringing wealth and success to the polis (Joint Association of Classical Teachers, 2008, p.26). Indeed, after Xerxes’s defeat, Athens became a major cultural centre (BHAG, p.138) and some of the money received from the league against Persia led by Athens was used to celebrate religious festivals and to build magnificent buildings, such as the Parthenon in 447 BCE (ibid).
As “the guiding spirit of Athenian imperialism” (BHAG, p.145) Pericles instigated the building of this temple and others, all adorned with sculptures, on the Acropolis meaning ‘city-top’ or ‘citadel’ (JACT, 2008, p.74). According to the same source (2008, p.26) “there is little doubt that, from the first, these buildings made a statement about Athenian power and superiority. Through them, Athens presented herself as a city fit to be the leader of an empire.” Pericles justified this display of power in the following terms, according to Plutarch (Life of Pericles, 12.4): “It is fair that the city, once she has been equipped with what is necessary for war, should turn the surplus over to works which, when completed, will bring her everlasting glory.” Democratically, the public building would, appropriately, “stir every hand until almost the whole city will be under contract” (Plutarch, Life of Pericles, 12.4). In what way then does the Acropolis symbolise an imperial, yet democratic, programme?
The first point to note is that of location (Illustrations Book, Plate 3). The Acropolis is situated on a rocky hillside that rises 120 m from the surrounding plain (JACT, 2008, p.74). This made it “a natural place of refuge in time of trouble” (ibid). Secondly, on top of being “the central fortress,” the Acropolis is “the principal sanctuary of Athena, patron goddess of the city” (OCCC, p.93). One of the first monuments to be erected after the sack by the Persians was a bronze statue of Athena Promachos “set up to celebrate victory over the Persians” (ibid). This statue was visible from what was to later be the Propylaea, the gateway building to the Acropolis (Illustrations Book, Plate 10). Towards the end of the fifth century, the statue was housed in the most sacred of the temples of the Acropolis, the Erechtheion. Thus, the imperial implications of the Acropolis are evident from the outset, chronologically and geographically; at its entrance lay a statue celebrating that victory which was instrumental in the formation of the Athenian empire.
Next came the Parthenon, undoubtedly the most known and celebrated monument of the Acropolis. Temple to Athena, housing an unprecedented gold and ivory statue of the goddess, the Parthenon also served as the state treasury (Block 2, p.74) confirming its status as “a monument to Athens’ imperial position” (JACT, 2008, p.80). Indeed, the move of the treasury of the Delian league from Delos to Athens in 454 BCE (Block 2, p.74) marks the beginning of what is now called the Athenian empire. This was no ordinary treasury however. The Parthenon was “the largest temple of its day” (ibid), positioned in the centre of the Acropolis and visible from afar, to friends and foe alike (Experiencing the Classical World, p.98). Especially of interest are the temple’s sculptures, i.e. the pediments, the metopes and the endlessly controversial frieze. Together these can be viewed “as celebrating Athens’ spiritual life, military prowess and cultural pre-eminence” (ECW, p.99).
The pediments, for example, depict, on the east end, the birth of Athena, and on the west end, the contest between her and Poseidon for the possession of the land (Readings Book 1, Reading 2.6., Pausanias 1.24.5). These pediments portray the power of the polis as having divine origin (birth of Athena) on the one hand and divine sanction (reign of Athena) on the other. The metopes “depict various battles between the powers of civilisation and groups that are somehow uncivilised – the gods battle against the giants, the Greeks against the Amazons” (ECW, p.99). The message thus conveyed is unequivocal: Athens is the bastion of civilisation, Hellenism, and has to assert herself in the struggle against un-Greek barbarians on the one hand, and possibly undemocratic Greek poleis on the other, i.e. poleis not forming part of her empire, the chief among them being Sparta.
The frieze itself is said to depict the festival of the Panathenaia, dedicated to the patron goddess Athena, and certainly suggests as much in terms of the procession it depicts although its actual constitution is somewhat mythical, if not aristocratic, with a predominance of cavalry and charioteers (Robin Osbourne, 1987, pp.103-104). Nevertheless, the fact that the procession (which was all-inclusive in that all members of the polis, citizens and denizens alike, took part in it) made its way to the Parthenon frieze shows that the building programme was open to influences which were not solely those of the powerful. The frieze is a loose but undeniable representation of unity and not of struggle, like the metopes.
In his essay on Classical Athens (ECW, pp.99-100), James Robson points out the thematic unity of the Acropolis as a whole. Thus the already mentioned statue of Athena Parthenos included “a shield sculpted with scenes of the battles between both gods and giants and Greeks and Amazons [and] sandals whose decoration included the battle between Lapiths and centaurs (all motifs found on the temple’s metopes).” In addition, the Parthenos statue could be seen as complementing the already mentioned Promachos statue, while the temple of Athena Nike that sits just outside of the Acropolis boasts a frieze representing the battle of Marathon which was a major Greek victory against the first Persian invasion by Darius. Rather like the Parthenon frieze, an actual event, in this case a battle, had entered the world of myth and was thus fit to be the object of a temple’s decoration.
A similar glorification of past deeds is to be found in Pericles’ Funeral Speech dedicated to those who died in the first year of the Great Peloponnesian War in 431 BCE (Readings Book 1, Reading 2.8 Thucydides 2.34-46). In 2.36 Pericles glorifies, alongside “our ancestors,” “our own fathers, who added to their inheritance the empire which we now possess.” The not- too-distant past, symbolised by the battle of Marathon on the temple of Athena Nike, features in the opening words of the statesman’s speech. In 2.43 he notes that “heroes have the whole earth for their tomb.” The following sentence in 2.41 sums up the building programme on the Acropolis: “the admiration of the present and succeeding ages will be ours, since we have not left our power without witness, but have shown it by mighty proofs.”
As with the Parthenon frieze, there is no reference in the speech to named individuals or fighting units, although the war dead were mainly cavalry, i.e. from the upper-classes. Athens being a democracy of sorts, Pericles was careful not to single out any individuals or groups of individuals which would undermine the unity of the state. The emphasis is on participation, and there is no doubt that the construction of the Acropolis entailed a wide participation from the citizen and non-citizen body alike, as noted above. Intriguingly, Thucydides puts the following words in Pericles’ mouth: “For Athens alone of her contemporaries is found when tested to be greater than her reputation.” This sits oddly with Thucydides’ own statement (Thucydides 1.10) that were Athens to be found in ruins, “one would conjecture from what met the eye that the city had been twice as powerful as in fact it is.” This, if anything, points to the success of the Acropolis in conveying the power of Athens and her empire, making her, to quote Pericles, “the school of Hellas.” Pericles’s observation in 2.45 that the most ‘glorious’ women keep themselves discreet is mirrored in the aforementioned frieze in which a tiny minority of women figure.
1,510 words
Bibliography
Ancient sources
Plutarch, Life of Pericles
Pausanias, Guide to Greece, vol.1, in Levi, P. (trans.) (1979 [1971]), Hammondsworth: Penguin, pp.69-70)
Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, 2.34-46, in Crawley, R. (trans.) (1997), Ware: Wordsworth Editions, pp.93-100
Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, 1.10, in Crawley, R. (trans.) (1997), Ware: Wordsworth Editions
Modern scholarship
Budelmann, F., Hardwick, L. and Robson, J. (2006) A219: Block 2: Classical Athens, Milton Keynes: The Open University
Joint Association of Classical Teachers (2008) The World of Athens, Cambridge and NY: Cambridge University Press
Pomeroy, S.B., Burnstein, S.M., Donlan, W. And Roberts, J.T. (2004) A Brief History of Ancient Greece: Politics, Society and Culture, Oxford: Oxford University Press
Robson, J. (2006) ‘Self and Society in Classical Athens’ in Perkins, P. (ed.), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University
A219 Illustrations Book
dimanche 22 mars 2009
The Gods in Homer
(a) Choosing the books you have read in either the Odyssey or the Iliad, consider the role of the gods. Do you think they enhance or detract from the effect of the poem?
Let us consider the role of the gods through the medium of Lattimore’s translation of the Iliad, focusing on Books 1, 22, 23 and 24, bearing in mind that as a modern translation, the text cannot convey the religiosity that the oral performances must have had for the Greek listeners of 8th century BCE (CD1, Track 20). As will soon be apparent, the role of the gods appears to be both theological and poetic. I will consider both aspects together in what follows.
Book 1 (Readings Book 1, 1.1) opens with an appeal to the Muse to sing “the anger of Peleus’ son Achilles” (Homer, Iliad 1.1). This shows that the role of the gods is not merely confined to the narrative but is actually central to the performance of the poem itself. And it is because Homer is the Muse’s mouthpiece, so to speak, that he has knowledge of divine happenings (Naoko Yamagata, 2006, p.72).
Homer then notes that “Zeus’ will was accomplished” (Homer, Iliad 1.5) from the moment of the bitter enmity that opposed Achilles to Agamemnon. Thus, from the very beginning, the epic is presented as the necessary consequence of Zeus’s power over the mortal world.
The confrontation between the two kings is said to be the work of Apollo, who has been petitioned by a priest of his, Chryses, to inflict suffering on the Achaeans (Homer, Iliad 1.8-42). In this instance Apollo is making up for an injustice committed against one of his protégés (Homer, Iliad 1.26-34). He is indebted to the latter (Homer, Iliad 1.40-41). Apollo is moved to come to Chryses’s help because Chryses has sacrificed in his favour (Homer, Iliad 1.40-1). In coming to his help, Apollo is upholding the principle of reciprocity. Thus one role of the gods is to uphold certain values, for example repayment of debts and acknowledgement of sacrifices offered (Block 1, p.50).
Line 55 shows how the gods can manipulate mortal minds; in this case Achilles calls his people to assembly because Hera has put the idea into his mind. In line 56 it is said that Hera “had pity upon the Danaans when she saw them dying”. Similarly in Book 23 the gods are filled with compassion in the face of Hector’s body being mistreated by Achilles (Homer, Iliad 23.23). Not only are the gods moved by the plight of mortals but despite their ruthlessness they are capable of profound human emotion. The gods as spectators of the human world are also influenced by it as the experiences and emotions that animate it are not foreign to them. In this way they form an audience within the poem which ponders on the events that have occurred so far.
Divine concern and sympathy (Homer, Iliad 1.195-6) can translate into deus ex machina intervention. Athena’s intervention at the point when Achilles “weighed in mind and spirit” two courses of action allows the epic to continue; a dead Agamemnon would halt the seizure of Troy (Homer, Iliad 1.194-222). As Oliver Taplin (1986, p.50) points out, some scholars have suggested that this episode is merely a poetic personification of Achilles’s better judgement and says little about the role of the divine. He goes so far as to argue that “the gods in Homer do not have a theological existence independent of particular poetic context” (p.75). In my view the question is an open one: the gods, Zeus especially, certainly have fixed theological attributes and, as we shall see, are beyond fate. In terms of their strictly poetical role it might be noted at this point that many of the lesser divinities in the poem are nature personified; Dawn (Homer, Iliad 23.109), the winds Boreas and Zephyros (Homer, Iliad 23.195), Helios (sun).
In lines 238-9 Achilles characterizes the Achaeans as “administering the justice of Zeus.” This confirms the opening lines of the epic that portray mortals as agents of divine will (Homer, Iliad 1.5). The following pages of Book 1 highlight another important function of the gods which is to bestow honour, which in the case of Achilles means punishing the Achaeans (Homer, Iliad 353-4). The scene on Olympus at the end of Book 1 sheds light on the human-like interaction between the gods, providing relief and counterbalance to the grim affairs in Troy (see esp. Homer, Iliad 1.599-600).
Jumping to Book 22 (Readings Book 1, 1.3) Apollo meets Achilles in the heat of battle and probes him, drawing a vexed answer (Homer, Iliad 22.7-20). Apollo contrasts his nature that is “not fated” with Achilles’s, and he in turn notes that the god has “no retribution to fear.” The role of the gods is characterized by their impunity as compared to mortals or, in other words, their lack of fate.
However, they play a part in determining the fate of mortal protagonists ; for example, when Zeus weighs the scales (or mixes the urns of sorrow and blessing in Homer, Iliad 24.527-33) while Achilles chases Hector (Homer, Iliad 22.208-213) and the latter’s death is decided¬ . This weighing of the scales at this point of the narrative is surely designed to heighten the tension, although we know through Athena that Hector was “long since doomed by his destiny.” The gods appear to be partisan, favouring those with divine blood (see Hera’s reply to Apollo at 24.56-63). These instances of divine participation elevate the action. Indeed, what good would great heroic deeds be without the gods as witnesses?
The gods’ favouring of some over others is manifest in Book 23 (Readings Book, 1.4) which describes the funeral games in honour of Patroclus. This happens after the gods (Aphrodite and Apollo) have prevented Hector’s body from decomposing and being fed on. In so doing they uphold Hector’s dignity as a deceased human being (Homer, Iliad 23.184-191). During the chariot race Apollo dashes the whip from Diomede’s hands (Homer, Iliad 23.383-4) and Athena, detecting his “foul play”, returns the whip to the warrior (Homer, Iliad 23.388-90). In this instance the competition between mortals is paralleled by competition between the immortals as they aid their favourites and harm those they despise.
Book 24 (Readings Book 1, 1.5), the last of the Iliad, reveals how the epic is unimaginable without the gods; they are essential to its unfolding. Lines 33 to 76 consist of a conversation between the gods over Hector’s dead body. Apollo bemoans the gods’ supporting of Achilles “within whose breast there are no feelings of justice. . . [whose] purposes are fierce. . .[whose] spirit is haughty. . . [who is without] shame” (Homer, Iliad 24.39-45) It may be argued that the gods, as omniscient beings, have a certain claim to judging the behaviour of mortals. More interestingly, Apollo’s characterisation of Achilles as a ruthless man reveals a limitation to the gods’ influence over mortals. “They do not change human nature” (Lattimore, 54). Achilles is Achilles; the gods do not make him what he is.
Do the gods enhance or detract from the effect of the poem? It is undoubtedly an intrusion of modern sensibility to think you can dispense with the gods in the narrative. The question betrays a modern taste which is used to different literary devices and certainly not to divine intervention. But it is clear in my view that both poetically and practically the gods enhance the poem enormously, giving it an extra layer of meaning as it were, not to mention of magnificence.
1,234 words
Ancient source
Richmond Lattimore (trans.) (1961) The Iliad of Homer, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press
Modern scholarship
Emlyn-Jones, C. and Yamagata, N. (2006) A219 Block 1: Homer and the Greek ‘Dark Age’, Milton Keynes: The Open University
CD1, Track 20: Homer in Translation-introduction
Naoko Yamagata, ‘Sing Muse: Authorial voices in Ancient Greek Poetry’ in Phil Perkins (ed.) (2006), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University, 69-85
Oliver Taplin (1986), ‘Homer’ in Boardman, Griffin, Murray (eds), Oxford History of the Classical World, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 50-77
Richmond Lattimore (trans.) (1961) The Iliad of Homer, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 54
Let us consider the role of the gods through the medium of Lattimore’s translation of the Iliad, focusing on Books 1, 22, 23 and 24, bearing in mind that as a modern translation, the text cannot convey the religiosity that the oral performances must have had for the Greek listeners of 8th century BCE (CD1, Track 20). As will soon be apparent, the role of the gods appears to be both theological and poetic. I will consider both aspects together in what follows.
Book 1 (Readings Book 1, 1.1) opens with an appeal to the Muse to sing “the anger of Peleus’ son Achilles” (Homer, Iliad 1.1). This shows that the role of the gods is not merely confined to the narrative but is actually central to the performance of the poem itself. And it is because Homer is the Muse’s mouthpiece, so to speak, that he has knowledge of divine happenings (Naoko Yamagata, 2006, p.72).
Homer then notes that “Zeus’ will was accomplished” (Homer, Iliad 1.5) from the moment of the bitter enmity that opposed Achilles to Agamemnon. Thus, from the very beginning, the epic is presented as the necessary consequence of Zeus’s power over the mortal world.
The confrontation between the two kings is said to be the work of Apollo, who has been petitioned by a priest of his, Chryses, to inflict suffering on the Achaeans (Homer, Iliad 1.8-42). In this instance Apollo is making up for an injustice committed against one of his protégés (Homer, Iliad 1.26-34). He is indebted to the latter (Homer, Iliad 1.40-41). Apollo is moved to come to Chryses’s help because Chryses has sacrificed in his favour (Homer, Iliad 1.40-1). In coming to his help, Apollo is upholding the principle of reciprocity. Thus one role of the gods is to uphold certain values, for example repayment of debts and acknowledgement of sacrifices offered (Block 1, p.50).
Line 55 shows how the gods can manipulate mortal minds; in this case Achilles calls his people to assembly because Hera has put the idea into his mind. In line 56 it is said that Hera “had pity upon the Danaans when she saw them dying”. Similarly in Book 23 the gods are filled with compassion in the face of Hector’s body being mistreated by Achilles (Homer, Iliad 23.23). Not only are the gods moved by the plight of mortals but despite their ruthlessness they are capable of profound human emotion. The gods as spectators of the human world are also influenced by it as the experiences and emotions that animate it are not foreign to them. In this way they form an audience within the poem which ponders on the events that have occurred so far.
Divine concern and sympathy (Homer, Iliad 1.195-6) can translate into deus ex machina intervention. Athena’s intervention at the point when Achilles “weighed in mind and spirit” two courses of action allows the epic to continue; a dead Agamemnon would halt the seizure of Troy (Homer, Iliad 1.194-222). As Oliver Taplin (1986, p.50) points out, some scholars have suggested that this episode is merely a poetic personification of Achilles’s better judgement and says little about the role of the divine. He goes so far as to argue that “the gods in Homer do not have a theological existence independent of particular poetic context” (p.75). In my view the question is an open one: the gods, Zeus especially, certainly have fixed theological attributes and, as we shall see, are beyond fate. In terms of their strictly poetical role it might be noted at this point that many of the lesser divinities in the poem are nature personified; Dawn (Homer, Iliad 23.109), the winds Boreas and Zephyros (Homer, Iliad 23.195), Helios (sun).
In lines 238-9 Achilles characterizes the Achaeans as “administering the justice of Zeus.” This confirms the opening lines of the epic that portray mortals as agents of divine will (Homer, Iliad 1.5). The following pages of Book 1 highlight another important function of the gods which is to bestow honour, which in the case of Achilles means punishing the Achaeans (Homer, Iliad 353-4). The scene on Olympus at the end of Book 1 sheds light on the human-like interaction between the gods, providing relief and counterbalance to the grim affairs in Troy (see esp. Homer, Iliad 1.599-600).
Jumping to Book 22 (Readings Book 1, 1.3) Apollo meets Achilles in the heat of battle and probes him, drawing a vexed answer (Homer, Iliad 22.7-20). Apollo contrasts his nature that is “not fated” with Achilles’s, and he in turn notes that the god has “no retribution to fear.” The role of the gods is characterized by their impunity as compared to mortals or, in other words, their lack of fate.
However, they play a part in determining the fate of mortal protagonists ; for example, when Zeus weighs the scales (or mixes the urns of sorrow and blessing in Homer, Iliad 24.527-33) while Achilles chases Hector (Homer, Iliad 22.208-213) and the latter’s death is decided¬ . This weighing of the scales at this point of the narrative is surely designed to heighten the tension, although we know through Athena that Hector was “long since doomed by his destiny.” The gods appear to be partisan, favouring those with divine blood (see Hera’s reply to Apollo at 24.56-63). These instances of divine participation elevate the action. Indeed, what good would great heroic deeds be without the gods as witnesses?
The gods’ favouring of some over others is manifest in Book 23 (Readings Book, 1.4) which describes the funeral games in honour of Patroclus. This happens after the gods (Aphrodite and Apollo) have prevented Hector’s body from decomposing and being fed on. In so doing they uphold Hector’s dignity as a deceased human being (Homer, Iliad 23.184-191). During the chariot race Apollo dashes the whip from Diomede’s hands (Homer, Iliad 23.383-4) and Athena, detecting his “foul play”, returns the whip to the warrior (Homer, Iliad 23.388-90). In this instance the competition between mortals is paralleled by competition between the immortals as they aid their favourites and harm those they despise.
Book 24 (Readings Book 1, 1.5), the last of the Iliad, reveals how the epic is unimaginable without the gods; they are essential to its unfolding. Lines 33 to 76 consist of a conversation between the gods over Hector’s dead body. Apollo bemoans the gods’ supporting of Achilles “within whose breast there are no feelings of justice. . . [whose] purposes are fierce. . .[whose] spirit is haughty. . . [who is without] shame” (Homer, Iliad 24.39-45) It may be argued that the gods, as omniscient beings, have a certain claim to judging the behaviour of mortals. More interestingly, Apollo’s characterisation of Achilles as a ruthless man reveals a limitation to the gods’ influence over mortals. “They do not change human nature” (Lattimore, 54). Achilles is Achilles; the gods do not make him what he is.
Do the gods enhance or detract from the effect of the poem? It is undoubtedly an intrusion of modern sensibility to think you can dispense with the gods in the narrative. The question betrays a modern taste which is used to different literary devices and certainly not to divine intervention. But it is clear in my view that both poetically and practically the gods enhance the poem enormously, giving it an extra layer of meaning as it were, not to mention of magnificence.
1,234 words
Ancient source
Richmond Lattimore (trans.) (1961) The Iliad of Homer, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press
Modern scholarship
Emlyn-Jones, C. and Yamagata, N. (2006) A219 Block 1: Homer and the Greek ‘Dark Age’, Milton Keynes: The Open University
CD1, Track 20: Homer in Translation-introduction
Naoko Yamagata, ‘Sing Muse: Authorial voices in Ancient Greek Poetry’ in Phil Perkins (ed.) (2006), Experiencing the Classical World, Milton Keynes: The Open University, 69-85
Oliver Taplin (1986), ‘Homer’ in Boardman, Griffin, Murray (eds), Oxford History of the Classical World, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 50-77
Richmond Lattimore (trans.) (1961) The Iliad of Homer, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 54
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