by Scott McGill
Two points are particularly interesting for our discussion. First is the rather surprising distinction between gloria and fama. While the original Greek version has already given the author a certain degree of fama, and he anticipates acquiring further fama from the new Latin version, he asserts that he is not aiming for gloria, a concept that he here associates with eloquentia. And soon thereafter, Theodorus disparagingly evokes the pursuit of gloria by unscrupulous doctors:
The patient lies there, tossed about in the storm of his illness. Then the flock of our profession gathers around, but instead of being motivated by pity for the dying man, instead of being mindful of the destiny imposed by our common nature, it is like an Olympic contest: One man exercising his eloquence, another engaging in argumentation, another concurring and another dissenting, they pursue an empty glory. (inanem gloriam captant). (Faen. 1.2)
Besides the contrast between gloria and fama, aligned with that between eloquence and medicine, Theodorus advocates for a type of natural medicine that directly recalls the defense of an ancient, pre‐Greek and antitheoretical medicine seen above in the Medicina Plinii, the elder Pliny, and Cato. Theodorus introduces a powerful personification of Nature in the next paragraph of the preface of the Faenomenon; she speaks up in order to attack a certain type of doctor:
O race of mortals, ingrates in vain! The patient is being killed, he is not dying, and yet I am held responsible for human frailty. Diseases are dreadful, but I have given cures. Poisons lie hidden in bushes, but they contain even more healing functions. Enough of this peculiar, destructive argumentation and this vain love of verbosity (perturbatrix disputatio atque iste loquacitatis vanus amor). These are not the remedies I gave for the health of mortals, but rather the great potencies of seeds and fruits and herbs, and whatever else I have produced for mankind. (Faen. 1.2)
This call for the return to Nature – or more generally to origins – can be interpreted as a characteristically late antique cultural move, not only in the domain of the practical arts, but also in other kinds of texts such as historiography and poetry. Christian historians such as Eusebius and Orosius, for example, go back to the origins of the world in order to found a universal history. A number of anonymous antiquarian texts variously retell the origins of Rome (Origo gentis Romanorum, Origo gentis Romanae), while poets such as Claudian or Rutilius Namatianus develop the motif of the return to a natural, pre‐cultural age (Formisano 2017b). Finally, both biblical and Vergilian exegesis can be seen as driven by a return to the origins, in the form of authoritative or sacred texts.
30.4 Conclusion
Within the current critical enthusiasm for late antique literature, the body of textuality called “technical literature” – which I prefer to describe as “the literature of knowledge” – has been distinctly marginalized. When they have been discussed, these texts have generally been treated as if they were fundamentally no different from technical texts written in other times and places. Scholars typically trace the historical develpoment of individual disciplinary discourses such as medicine or agriculture and discuss late antique texts in this framework, that is, interpret them from the perspective of the history of science and technology. This chapter pleads, instead, for a more carefully focused study of these texts in their specifically late antique cultural and literary context, at the same time shedding light on their inherent literariness.
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Doody, Aude. (2009). Authority and authorship in the Medicina Plinii. In: Authorial Voices in Greco‐Roman Technical Writing (ed. Aude Doody and Liba Chaia Taub), 93–105. Trier: WVT.
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Fischer, Klaus‐Dietrich. (1988). Anweisungen zur Selbstmedikation von Laien in der Spätantike. In: XXX congrès international d’histoire de la médicine: Düsseldorf 31‐VIII‐5‐IX‐1986 (ed. Hans Schadewaldt and Karl‐Heinz Leven), 315–340. Leverkusen: Vicom KG.
Fögen, Thorsten. (2009). Wissen, Kommunikation und Selbstdarstellung. Zur Struktur und Charakteristik römischer Fachtexte der frühen Kaiserzeit. Munich: Beck.
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NOTE
A
ll translations are the author’s unless otherwise indicated.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Inscriptions
Raymond Van Dam
Inscriptions were the most visible and public form of literature in late Roman society. Some literary texts began as oral performances in public venues, such as panegyrics or sermons, and other texts continued to be read aloud before audiences after their initial composition, such as saints’ Lives. Some texts circulated widely between correspondents, such as letters, or among like‐minded churchmen, such as theological treatises. But most literary manuscripts eventually disappeared from general public consumption to be stored in libraries or archives and read only by scribes, learned aristocrats, intellectuals, and churchmen.
By contrast, inscriptions were highly conspicuous throughout the late Roman world. In a broad definition inscriptions include almost all writings on media other than papyrus and parchment. Wood, in the form of whitewashed boards, was probably the most common material, but very few wooden tablets have survived. Today the most common examples are inscriptions engraved on stones, such as marble blocks and slabs, the bases of statues and columns, the facades of buildings, and tombstones, or on bronze tablets, such as military diplomas. Inscriptions can also encompass graffiti, notations on lead seals and pipes, writing scratched on ceramics, and labels and texts set in mosaics. The most famous “inscription” from late antiquity was the caption that the emperor Constantine claimed to have seen attached to his vision of a luminous cross in the sky: “Conquer by this!” (Eusebius, Vita Constantini 1.28.2).
The objectives of engraving inscriptions on stones or bronze tablets were public display and permanence. Because these were goals shared with literary works, authors and orators sometimes used inscriptions as reference points. In the mid‐fourth century the priest Gregory of Nazianzus compared the treatise in which he had criticized the emperor Julian to a stone tablet, “more lofty and more prominent than the Pillars of Hercules,” which would be an everlasting proclamation of infamy (Orat. 5.42).
Thinking about inscriptions as literature raises many issues. Even though emperors still circulated edicts and sent rescripts to their magistrates, and even though cities continued to ratify municipal ordinances, during the late antique period the quantity of legislative inscriptions in cities declined noticeably (section “Agency and Identity” below). Reading inscriptions requires familiarity with modern editorial conventions (section “Editions” below). Once edited, our first reaction is to interrogate inscriptions closely as historical “sources” in order to excavate the factual data (section “Sources” below). In contrast, evaluating inscriptions as “texts” raises the same concerns about the construction of narratives now prominent in trying to understand other literary genres (section “Texts” below). Reading inscriptions as sources or texts was not the first reaction for most people in antiquity, however. The low level of literacy transformed inscriptions into visual “images,” stylized decoration accompanying monuments and statues (section “Images” below). Ancient audiences hence included many spectators and some readers, as well as censors and collectors (section “Audiences and Reception” below).
Within the regions that came to be included in the Roman Empire, most of the inscriptions were in Greek or Latin (or sometimes both languages), although other languages, such as Punic, Syriac, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Demotic, were also used. In the multitude of comprehensive modern collections, commonly known by acronyms such as AE, CIL, and ILS (see this chapter’s abbreviations list), the dominant place of Christianity in the later Roman Empire and its successor states is apparent. Not only do most Christian inscriptions date from the period after the reign of Constantine, but the great majority of inscriptions from late antiquity were related to Christianity, either directly or indirectly (Tabbernee 2008; Cooley 2012, pp. 228–250; Salway 2014). The huge number of inscriptions, secular and Christian, is a powerful argument for more use of digital resources (Bodel 2012).
Although noting large themes and trends, the short survey in this chapter will often return to the many dimensions of one exemplary inscription from Rome. This dedication commemorated a senator whom the emperor Constantine promoted as prefect of Rome. In this case religion was not an issue. Constantine may have become the first Christian emperor, but he was still prepared to honor a pagan senator.
31.1 Agency and Identity
Emperors and their magistrates circulated many decisions. Some imperial edicts were supposed to be applicable throughout the empire. In 301 Diocletian and his fellow emperors issued an Edict on Maximum Prices: “The prices indicated in the concise list appended below are to be observed in the whole of our empire.” But the reality of limited communication vanquished the rhetoric of universality. Even though fragments of inscribed copies of this edict have been discovered at more than 40 cities, its impact was restricted. No copies have been found in western provinces, and in the eastern empire it was displayed as an inscription only in three provinces. This limited dissemination suggests that individual provincial governors arranged for the engraving of the edict, or that a particular emperor, in this case, Galerius, may have been trying to strengthen his authority in western Asia Minor, Crete, and the Greek peninsula (Corcoran 1996).
Much imperial legislation took the form of responses to specific requests and petitions. Sometimes the emperors required public display. In 367 Valentinian I insisted that his new regulations about payments for pig dealers should be “engraved on a bronze tablet in the Hog Market [at Rome] as an eternal reminder” (CTh 14.4.4). In the later fifth century an emperor wanted a list of the tariffs imposed on ships sailing through the Hellespont “to be engraved on stone tablets next to the sea so that both collectors and payers might read the law” (Durliat and Guillou 1984). But most often the placement of inscriptions reflected local decisions. Cities might decide to honor a provincial governor or a municipal magistrate who was responsible for benefits, or local notables might want a public record of their accomplishments.
In the later empire the inscribing of imperial edicts declined. About 200 examples of imperial legislation have been found in inscriptions from the early empire; but only about 60 imperial edicts and rescripts have been discovered from the period after the Tetrarchic emperiors (Feissel 2010, pp. 17–42). The inscribing of municipal laws and commemorations of civic magistrates and patrons decreased even more precipitously. At Ephesus, for instance, inscribed copies of almost 30 laws issued by the emperor and his magistrates during the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries have been found, but no municipal laws (Feissel 2010, pp. 43–70). In cities throughout the empire the same chronological pattern appears. The engraving of inscriptions seemed almost to end toward the end of the third century but revived modestly in the early fourth century. Another decline continued to the later fifth century, but another revival lasted until the mid‐sixth century. By 600, inscriptions were no longer a significant component of urban political life (Liebeschuetz 2001, pp. 11–19).
Engraving inscriptions was a deliberate choice that reflected the cultural imperatives of emperors, imperial magistrates, municipal administrators, and civic patrons. The rises and declines of the “epigraphic habit” should be correlated with larger political and social trends. In many cities the latest emperors to be commemorated were Diocletian and his colleagues or Constantine, while public inscriptions increasingly honored provincial governors rather than municipal magistrates (Robert 1948). These trends suggest that during the fourth century the very top level of imperial rule was becoming more remote among provincials even as the political institutions of cities declined in authority. Instead, local notables had the opportunity to participate in larger provincial assemblies, and provincial governors were credited for local construction projects.
By the fifth century Christianity was widespread in the empire. As more people found identities in Christian values and behavior, more inscriptions appeared in churches and cemeteries honoring churchmen and parishioners. Christian epitaphs
dominated: The “epigraphic habit” survived largely as “epitaphic” practice (Galvao‐Sobrinho 1995). Even imperial edicts were to be displayed in churches. In 535, when Justinian issued a new law about the behavior of provincial governors, he sent a copy to bishops, with the suggestion that they have it written on boards or engraved on stones. The bishops were to ensure that the law was available for everyone to read by displaying it “in the courtyards of the most holy church” (Justinian, Novellae 8, Edictum). Churches were now the preferred venues for reading official documents.
31.2 Editions
Inscriptions make stimulating but sometimes also puzzling reading. The scattering of abbreviations, the minimal use of punctuation and separation between words, the continuation of words on the next line, the grammatical and factual mistakes, and the unfamiliar scripts can turn even intact inscriptions into a challenge of deciphering. Then there are the losses due to damage. Many inscriptions are fragmentary and need reconstruction.
Modern philological editions of ancient literary works typically offer a standardized text by relegating the discrepancies among manuscripts and the grammatical uncertainties to the small font of the critical apparatus. In contrast, even though editions of inscriptions are usually derived from the actual stones, bronze plates, or other media, they are not facsimiles of the engraved or painted texts. Instead, modern editions revel in the flaws and obscurities of the engraved texts, and the omissions and reconstructions are on center stage. When properly edited, inscriptions in scholarly editions look like modernist poems, with blank spaces, asymmetrical layouts, ellipses, and inventive punctuation.