In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Indo-European Sacred Space: Vedic and Roman CultJerzy LinderskiRoger D. Woodard. Indo-European Sacred Space: Vedic and Roman Cult. Traditions. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2006. xiv + 296 pp. Cloth, $50.In all cultures gods claim possessions on Earth. Two divine realms stand out: time and space. A perceptive scholar aptly described the religious feasts, in Rome the feriae and dies festi, as "temporal possession of gods" (Jörg Rüpke, Kalender (...) und Öffentlichkeit: Die Geschichte der Repräsentation und religiösen Qualifikation von Zeit in Rom [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1995], 492). Divine space manifested itself in Rome in two distinct forms: there were places (loca) that were sacred (sacra), places that were holy (sancta), and places that were both sacred and holy (on this distinction, see more below). Roman cult of the period illuminated by literature and monuments was a confluence of Indo-European inheritance, Etruscan and Greek elements, and home-grown Italic, Latin, and Roman innovations. The Indian component of the Indo-European tradition has been brought into prominence by the voluminous publications of Georges Dumézil and his theory of the tri-functional Proto-Indo-European society: the three spheres were those of worship and legal writ, war, and work, with the classes of priests/governors, warriors, and producers and with the corresponding patron deities. In India we have Mitra and Varuna, Indra, and the As;vins and the castes of brāhmaṇa, kṣatriya, and wayśya. Georges Dumézil demonstrated great ingenuity in applying this Indian scheme to Rome; see especially his summa, Archaic Roman Religion (English trans.: Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970). This theory has captivated many, especially among the linguists and popularizers; Woodard is its ardent supporter. Students of Roman history and religion following the lead of Arnaldo Momigliano (and the indologist Jan Gonda) have been generally cautious; see recently Mary Beard, John North, and Simon Price, Religions of Rome I: A History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 14–16: while granting that "Dumézil's work has prompted much useful discussion about individual festivals or areas of worship in Rome," they do not find any compelling evidence for his overarching scheme and observe that all this "theorizing shows us once more how powerful in accounts of early Roman religion is the mystique of origins and schemata" (cf. in a similar vein, but concerning archaic Rome in general and in particular the views of Kurt Latte, Jerzy Linderski, Roman Questions II [Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007], 31–33, 595–96).Woodard has made his name with studies in Greek and Indo-European linguistics; his previous forays into the realm of Roman religion were the notes to the Penguin translation of Ovid's Fasti (2000) and a piece on "The Disruption [End Page 125] of Time in Myth and Epic" (Arethusa 35 [2002]: 83–98). The current book is to a great extent a measured polemic against skeptics and unbelievers, but Woodard's ultimate goal is more ambitious: his objective is not only to present a clear summary of Dumézil's arguments but also "to jump forward from that Dumézilian platform and to offer a new understanding of Roman and... primitive Indo-European religious structures and phenomena," an understanding which "differs appreciably from Dumézil's own interpretations" (ix). The book consists of five chapters. Here is a synopsis:I. "The Minor Capitoline Triad" (1–58). In the Capitoline temple built by Tarquinius Superbus, the reigning triad was that of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. Now there were in Rome fifteen priests called flamines, three of whom were Maiores: the priests of Jupiter, Mars, and Quirinus—Flamen Dialis, Martialis, and Quirinalis. That here we have before us another, earlier triad was already recognized by Georg Wissowa (Religion und Kultus der Römer, 2d ed. [Munich: C.H. Beck, 1912], 154); for Dumézil and Woodard this is the prime exhibit of the original trifunctional scheme of law and religion, war, and production/fecundity. But Woodard discovers still another minor triad. Before Jupiter's temple was built, various deities had inhabited the hill. Two of them, Juventas and Terminus, despite all the religious ceremonies and entreaties, refused to relocate, and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.4 (2002) 587-599 [Access article in PDF] Isto Vilius, Immo Carum:Anecdotes About King Romulus J. Linderski ISTO VILIUS. Lovers of words will love A. S. Gratwick's recent piece (2000) on this idiom. Yet this is only part of the puzzle. There exists a complement at the other end of the scale: Immo carum.A brief introduction: At the conclusion of Terence's Adelphoe, in a comical reversal (...) of roles, the stingy Demea goads the generous Micio into headlong spendthrift spending. Micio drags his feet, and when Demea suggests that in addition to freeing the crafty slave, Syrus, and his female companion, he should also provide them with a loan so that they may start a business, Micio responds, istoc vilius (line 981). This choice of words to express a petulant demurral has for centuries (or rather for millennia, if we begin with the scholia) intrigued philologists, and Gratwick guides us expertly through all the meanders of the argument. He points out that—surprisingly—the commentators of Terence have generally neglected the testimony of Suetonius preserved by the late fourth-century grammarian Charisius. It is to this text that we ought now to direct our attention. We read under the lemma Isto vilius: 1 rex qui vocabat ad caenam, 2 si sibi ea res exhibenda indiceretur quam exhibere non posset, respondit (respondebat), 3 ut Tranquillus refert, isto vilius hominis erit caena. [End Page 587]Gratwick (2000, 85) gives the following translation: A rex who regularly entertained, if a thing were stipulated (for him to provide) which he was unable to provide, would reply, as Suetonius reports, isto vilius hominis erit caena. It has long been recognized, indeed, since the time of the Renaissance scholars, that the main textual problem resides in the word hominis, which (so it might appear) can hardly be forced into any sensible construction or meaning. Emendations were considered, and here Gratwick's proposal (2000, 88) nihilo minus deserves acknowledgement. Following in the footsteps of several earlier erudites, and in opposition to Bentley, 4 he takes hominis (or whatever hides in it) as belonging to the quotation itself. We thus receive the text: Isto vilius, nihilo minus erit caena or (tortuously) "by that (much) the more meanly, but (by) none the less will it be a feast."But who is the rex who uttered this quip? Certainly not any real king, says Gratwick (2000, 88-91), but rather a man of influence, a "boss," a "padrone," as defined by OLD s.v. rex 8. At a dinner, an impudent guest makes an outrageous demand (e.g., in addition to food, he would also wish to have dancing girls; "caviar and striptease," as Gratwick puts it). The host gives a witty response. "The dictum has to be taken as a specific quotation of Terence's Micio, but a quotation given a deliberate twist." The twist would reside in the addition of nihilo minus and a play on the [End Page 588] causal 5 and comparative interpretation of istoc. The ill-mannered person will miss the subtlety (for a boor must ex definitione be also ill-educated) and will take this Micio-like petulant refusal for a conciliatory bon mot. "The more cultivated bystanders" will knowingly sneer at the illiterate boor and mentally applaud the refined host.In sum, a perfect donnish joke that would fare very well indeed at an Oxonian high table. "The point of Suetonius' anecdote... was to illustrate the witty comitas of some specific famous eques or senator of the past." Gratwick concedes that this person must remain anonymous for us, but his preferred urbane padrone who entertained boorish guests is none other than Atticus. Rex Atticus? Why not Maecenas, who also loved to entertain and claimed a royal lineage? In point of fact, this is not at all a likely context of the anecdote.The perusal of evidence for rex in the sense of "patron" seemingly strengthens Gratwick's conceit, for in several passages, the rex appears in a convivial context. But on closer scrutiny, the rex reveals himself as... (shrink)

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In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Historian L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi and the Roman Annalistic TraditionJ. LinderskiGary Forsythe. The Historian L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi and the Roman Annalistic Tradition. Lanham, MD, New York, and London: University Press of America, 1994. viii + 552 pp. Cloth.L. Calpurnius Piso, consul in 133, censor in 120, and a writer of history, should be pleased: this is a learned monograph. First, a computation. In the standard edition (...) by H. Peter, Historicorum Romanorum Reliquiae (2d ed., Lipsiae 1914) the extant forty-five fragments of the Annales of Piso cover twenty pages (118–37; in fact much less: a substantial space, more than one-third, is taken by the testimonia and apparatus printed at the bottom of each page). Forsythe’s monograph runs (excluding indices, bibliography and the edition of the fragments) to 408 pages. This amounts to about thirty or so pages of discussion for one page of Piso; if we applied the same method to an author partially or fully extant, for example Livy, the first five books of Livy which cover in the Oxford edition 381 pages would have required a modern work of over eleven thousand pages. For the sake of a further comparison we may note that the standard commentary on the first pentad of Livy (by R. M. Ogilvie [Oxford 1965]) contains 774 pages (the ratio is 2.03 : 1, but the pages of the commentary are larger, and so the real ratio is in the neighborhood of 3 : 1), and it is a very erudite commentary. This demonstrates vividly that the book de Pisone rerum scriptore must be concerned with something more than just Piso; nor can it be just a commentary on the fragments for even the most extensive commentary could not by any stretch of the imagination have reached this prodigious length.The subtitle informs us that the subject of the book is not only Calpurnius Piso but also “the Roman Annalistic Tradition”; thus Piso, his Annales, and the historiographic background. Unfortunately the book lacks an introduction in which the author would have set forth his goals and charted the way of achieving them. The text itself plunges directly into Piso’s political career (1–24), and then turns to a discussion of the Annales as a work of history and literature (25–73), and finally to a minute analysis of each fragment (75–408). The book is rounded off by a new edition of the testimonia and fragmenta (409–97), and by an extensive bibliography and index (499–552).Chapter 1. The Calpurnii Pisones were treated in the RE by F. Münzer, a great authority, but his article is very brief. Hence a full treatment of the historian’s family is welcome. The question arises whether it is necessary in a book about historiography. Furthermore some interpretations are questionable: the idea (3–7) that the mission (in 210–209) of a forebear of the historian, C. Piso, to secure for Rome Etruria and the Etruscan grain was somehow connected with his cognomen Piso (which Roman grammarians explained as derived from pinsere, “to grind grain”) will strike many as far-fetched. A similar conceit crops up on p. 21: Piso’s concern over the agrarian law of C. Gracchus “should perhaps be viewed in the context of his family’s possible involvement with milling and the state grain supply. The family’s surname meant ‘mortar’.” This borders on the [End Page 329] ridiculous—in an otherwise sober account. It is also awkward to speak of “the Lex Acilia of C. Gracchus” (23). There are good points too: the explanation of the origins of the lex Calpurnia de repetundis in terms of Roman clientela is very well taken indeed (15–16). Forsythe may also be right in rejecting M. Crawford’s interpretation of the coin Roman Republican Coinage (Cambridge 1974) no. 418 as indicating Piso’s pontificate.Chapter 2 deals with Piso’s education and with his work. It contains a good discussion of Piso’s personal surname Frugi, of his character, of Greek influences on the method of argumentation in his Annales, and of Piso’s Greek and Latin sources. The truly detective work to establish the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Volcanus: Recherches comparatistes sur les origines du culte de VulcainJ. LinderskiGérard Capdeville. Volcanus: Recherches comparatistes sur les origines du culte de Vulcain. Rome: Ecole Française de Rome, Palais Farnèse, 1995. viii 1 521 pp. Cloth, no price stated. (Bibliothèque des Ecoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, fasc. 288)In the last twenty years the French School has published every two years one book on Roman religion: monographs dealing with (...) Fortuna, Mercurius, Ops, Penates, Providentia Deorum, Fratres Arvales, l’Association Dionysiaque (cf. JRS 78 [1988] 207–8), the Bacchanalia, religious architecture (Aurea templa), La vie religieuse des matrones, Le délit religieux (cf. CP 79 [1984] 174–77). Now we have a book about Volcanus. First let us remark on what this book is not: it is not a study of the cult of Volcanus, an encyclopedia that would systematically list and discuss all the literary, iconographic, and epigraphical evidence in Rome, Italy, and the provinces. It would be very pleasing to have such a book; perhaps pedestrian, but useful. For information we still have to turn to Georg Wissowa, to his ageless Religion und Kultus der Römer (2d ed. Munich 1912, 229–32); also informative is W. Eisenhut, “Volcanus,” RE Suppl. 14 (1974) 948–62. A rather balanced account of the origines appears in G. Camassa, “Sull’origine [End Page 644] e le funzioni del culto di Volcanus a Roma,” RSI 96 (1984) 811–54. Capdeville’s book we have for speculations, a paradise for those eager to delve into murky origins, and those who are transposed by the dazzling and uncertain art of comparativistic pleading. If bibliography (fifty-one pages, 425–75) stands for learning, it is a learned monograph; it ranges from Rome through Etruria to Crete and Cyprus. Surprisingly we find no Hittites or Turks (the relevance of the latter the reader will see revealed at the end of this piece).The book opens with an evocation of Georges Dumézil. Where do his manes lead the author? They lead to the fish. The monograph “est né... d’une interrogation sur les pisciculi des Volcanalia” (1), a subject which intrigued Dumézil himself (REL 36 [1959] 121–30). At the feast of Volcanalia on 23 August (see the references in A. Degrassi, Fasti anni Numani et Iuliani (5 Inscr. It. XIII.2 [Rome 1963] 500–502), populus pro se in ignem animalia mittit (Varr. LL 6.20). On 7 June (cf. Degrassi 466) the Ludi Piscatorii were celebrated a praetore urbano pro piscatoribus Tiberinis, quorum quaestus non in macellum pervenit, sed fere in aream Volkani, quod id genus pisciculorum vivorum datur ei deo pro animis humanis (Festus 274–76 L); but at the Ludi Piscatorii the offering was not pro animis but rather pro quaestu piscantium (Festus 232 L); cf. J. Le Gall, Recherches sur le culte du Tibre (Paris 1953) 48–50; J. Linderski, Ktema 17 ([1992] 1996) 58. Agni, the Indian god of fire, hated water and fish; this explains the Roman ritual (so Dumézil). Most scholars tacitly assume that pisciculi vivi were offered also on the Volcanalia, but Varro speaks generally of animalia: if he wanted to say pisces he would have said so. Volcanus was a god of destructive fire (so Wissowa, Dumézil, and many other scholars); it makes sense that to propitiate him not only fish, a symbol of water, were burnt, but also other animals (perhaps as a substitute offering; cf., on that sort of sacrifices, G. Capdeville, MEFRA 83 [1971] 283–323). In the context of incendia arcenda an inscription of the Domitianic time (ILS 4914) records an offering on the Volcanalia of vitulus robeus and verres r(obeus). This calls to mind the sacrifice of the rutilae canes to protect the crops from the burning sun (Festus 358 L).Of all of this Capdeville, surprisingly, does not write at all: after their debut on page 1 the pisciculi and the Volcanalia feebly reappear at the very end of the book (420–23), only to be disregarded. Capdeville claims that Volcanus was not at all, and never, a god of “feu destructeur.” But Dumézil too... (shrink)