In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Stagecraft and Performance of Roman ComedyAmy RichlinC. W. Marshall. The Stagecraft and Performance of Roman Comedy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. xiv + 320 pp. 2 black-and-white figs. Cloth, $90.C. W. Marshall's new book forms part of the productive trend towards treating ancient theater as performance. In 1991 David Wiles began The Masks of Menander (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, xi) by commenting on the (...) institutional divide between classics and drama studies. Marshall, as a writer, occupies the unusual position of being able to speak both as a classicist and a professional actor, with substantial credits in both improv and Shakespeare. His work is influenced by writers in theater studies, particularly Susan Bennett on audiences, Keith Johnstone on improv, and Jacques Lecoq on masking and physical movement. Among writers on ancient comedy, he shares with David Wiles a commitment to the serious study of masking, and with Timothy Moore a focus on the interaction between actors and audience. As a performer and director, he has often worked with Mark Damen and Mary-Kay Gamel towards an understanding of ancient drama through hands-on production. Above all, this book is based in Marshall's experience as an actor; having had the privilege of working with him on a production of Persa, I can attest that the physicality of his acting pops his sense of what happened on the stage of Plautus into vivid 3-D.Marshall throughout prefers complex to simple models: the audience was not monolithic (no "Romans" here), venues differed in nature, the actors did not share a single status, literary influences on the plays were multiple (no tyranny of the "Greek original"). The introduction begins with a satisfyingly spiderwebby chart (2) laying out a stemma of influences on Plautus and, separately, Terence. As Marshall observes, audience members bring along their own performance codes, and "For Rome such codes are unlikely even to include knowledge of the play which the playwright claims as his source for the present entertainment" (109). (That is, to get a laugh out of Strange Brew, it is not necessary to know much [End Page 131] about Hamlet.) Venues for production would have been "found spaces" (47), often (following Sander Goldberg) a flat space in front of a temple, with the audience sitting on the steps, but generally any public space capable of holding a simple stage, backdrop, and seats. Marshall envisions the troupe as a mix of free and slave actors, some of whom owned others, opening up "convoluted situations" in the assignment of roles (87–88). Masks, as he demonstrates, could not have followed any rigid typology, especially (151) when they had to put a face on slaves who turned out to be free men (Captivi), whores who turned out to be virgins, and, I would add, Calydonians who turned out to be Carthaginians (Poenulus). The content of plays was determined by a simple bottom line: "the troupe sells an audience to the magistrates for a price" (83). Audiences were "heterogeneous" (186), and, while performance works to create a "consolidated audience," the "economic and social diversity of the audience itself exists in tension with this" (185); if the magistrates wanted to emphasize "Roman social stratigraphy," the plays worked to question divisions (77).The theme throughout is "flexibility," in keeping with what for me is the book's most important hypothesis: the plays of Plautus were collaborative creations (186–87): they "contain lines that did not originate with the playwright" but from "the collective of the theatrical troupe" (268–69). Here, Marshall persuasively draws on his own experience with improv groups, invoking the lazzi of commedia dell'arte and the shtick of vaudeville (165, n. 10) to suggest how Plautus's plays were put together by what he felicitously dubs "shtickomythia" (193). Speaking here as a translator of Plautus, I would vigorously agree: the register often slips into jokes that are corny (e.g., Poenulus 279), and what is corn but a shtick-on plaster? Even the inventiveness of slave-torture insults feels a lot like "yo mama" jokes, the kind of call-and-response humor that young men in agonistic cultures perfect in verbal dueling. Most... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Music and Structure in Roman ComedyTimothy J. MooreWell over a century ago, Friedrich Ritschl and Theodor Bergk independently reached the same conclusion regarding the markings of DV and C in some of the manuscripts of Plautus: the initials stand for diverbium and canticum; and their association, respectively, with scenes in iambic senarii and scenes in other meters implies that in Roman comedy passages in iambic senarii (...) were unaccompanied, whereas passages in all other meters were cantica, accompanied by the tibiae (Ritschl 1871–72, Bergk 1872).1 Ritschl’s and Bergk’s conclusions provide the best explanation not only of the rubrics in the manuscripts, but also of descriptions of performance in the grammarians and other ancient authors, and several allusions to the tibicen in the plays of Plautus. It is therefore not surprising that while there have been a few dissenters, most scholars have agreed with Ritschl’s and Bergk’s basic distinction between iambic senarii and other meters based on accompaniment.2 The implications of that distinction for the structure of Roman comedy, however, have remained unappreciated.Not that meter has been ignored by those proposing structural rules for Roman comedy. Soon after Ritschl and Bergk presented their [End Page 245] discoveries, Andreas Spengel (1877) argued that arrangement of lyric passages, accompanied stichic verse, and iambic senarii contributed to a five-act structure in all the plays of Plautus. Much more recently, Adolf Primmer has contended that all Roman comedies can be divided into three or more acts comprised of combinations of accompanied and unaccompanied meters (1984, 16–20). Although both Spengel and Primmer offer some valuable insights into the metrical arrangement of the plays, two factors vitiate their theories. First, in their determination to find universal structural principles, both scholars try to force the metrical patterns of many plays into procrustean schemata, ignoring passages which do not fit the molds they have created.Second, both scholars assume regular division of the plays of Roman comedy into acts divided by musical interludes. There is indeed one passage where a musical interlude certainly occurred (Pseud. 573a; see below), and in other passages the exit and reentrance of a character would make such an interlude likely (Cistell. 630, Trin. 601). Spengel, Primmer, and others who have assumed regular musical interludes have postulated that these occurred regularly when the text suggests that the stage was empty, and temporal verisimilitude would demand that an interval should pass before one of the characters reenters.3 Given the freedom with which Plautus and Terence apparently ignore the constraints of temporal verisimilitude even when the stage is not left empty, however, any attempt to prove the existence of interludes based on how much time must pass between events on stage divided by an empty stage is doomed to failure; and as Conrad, Questa and others have shown, there is much evidence to suggest that with a very few exceptions Roman comedies were performed continuously, without act breaks.4In her study of Plautus’ polymetric cantica Helen Hull Law approaches musical structure from another perspective. She observes that a great number of Plautus’ plays feature regular patterns of iambic senarii, followed by polymetric cantica, followed by trochaic septenarii; [End Page 246] and that on many occasions polymetric cantica occur at the beginning of new units of action (1922, 103–5). Law’s observations are invaluable for an appreciation of the musical structure of Plautus’ plays; nevertheless, they are limited by her emphasis on the polymetric cantica.It is not at all clear how the polymetric cantica were performed. Most scholars have assumed that polymetric passages were sung, whereas the performance of stichic verse other than iambic senarii was either “melodramatic,” with actors speaking independently of the accompaniment, or “recitative,” in which actors chanted in time with the tibiae.5 There is, however, no evidence that the polymetric cantica were “sung” in our sense of the word, or that the method in which the polymetrics were performed differed from the performance of other passages labeled cantica in the manuscripts.6 The most important musical distinction therefore appears to have been not that between the polymetric cantica and stichic meters, but rather that between unaccompanied iambic senarii... (shrink)

Quid ais has as its two main functions in Latin to express surprise (“what are you saying?”), and to get the addressee’s attention (“tell me something…”); the latter type has a commanding tone. It is proven that quid ais in Plautus has a decidedly male character; that is, he avoided giving the phrase to women. To explain this finding, it is noted that 91% of instances of quid ais in Plautus are of the second “attention-getting” type. With its imperatival force, (...) this quid ais was probably not felt to be appropriate for Plautus’ female characters whose speech is generally more polite and deferential than male speech. Indeed, in the three cases when a woman does utter the phrase, she either assumes a male role, or belongs to a type which in recent scholarship has been shown to have a “commanding” style of speech: the meretrix or the uxor dotata. (shrink)

The article by Professor Webster on ‘South Italian Vases and Attic Drama' in C.Q. xlii, pp. 15–27, raises problems for the reader of Roman comedy. Professor Webster takes the view that the Latin plays are good evidence for the costumes worn on the Greek stage; he even says that ‘the Greek original of Sceparnio in the Rudens certainly wore the phallus’, thus reviving a suggestion of Skutsch which Marx thought sehr k's argument that ancient works of art, in (...) particular Italian vases and terra-cottas, afford faithful representations of the costumes worn on the Attic stage. ‘It is certain’ ‘that the actors in Eubulus’ Auge looked like the figures on the vase'. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Iago’s Roman Ancestors JAMES TATUM Othello is that rare thing: a tragedy of literary types who half suspect they are playing in a comedy. —D. S. Stewart, 1967 In memoriam Bill Cook1 Shakespeare’s Othello is a drama created for a world where everyone was bound by “service,” a formal connection to someone else superior, in a hierarchy that linked all persons in court, theater, and society through (...) unavoidable obligation. Service could range from the lightest kind of tie, to indentured servitude. This meaning of “service” reflects its origin in Norman French, from the Latin word for slavery, servitium. It is Iago’s sense of the word in his comment to his dupe Roderigo: “Why, there’s no remedy, ’tis the curse of service.” The perceived color of Othello poses a perennial challenge which producers and directors in the United States have to consider every time Othello is performed. Jim Crow did not officially end in most parts of the former Confederacy until the Civil Rights Acts of the 1960s; and even then such legacies of slavery and segregation as color prejudice remain a challenge, alive if now not entirely well, and they haunt many a production. It is this more recent history that inspired Patrick Stewart’s “photo-negative” production of Othello in Washington, DC in 1997, in which the English actor himself played Othello while the rest of the cast were black. Given recent and not so recent history, it is important to realize that there actually is a slave hard at work throughout Othello, from opening scene to last: not Othello himself, but his “ancient” or ensign, Iago. arion 27.1 spring/summer 2019 the slave-playwright of shakespeare’s OTHELLO Lodovico: O, thou Othello, that was once so good, Fallen in the practice of a damnèd slave, What shall be said to thee? Othello, 5.2.289–91 the plot of Shakespeare’s Othello comes from the story “Disdemona and the Moorish Captain” in Giraldi Cinthio’s The Hundred Tales (1565), but the theatrical tradition he used to adapt it for the stage was not other tragedies. He went back to a classical theater he had used to write one of his earliest successes, The Comedy of Errors, one he knew as well as any other through his study of it in Latin grammar school and afterwards: Roman comedy. What resulted was something of a puzzle to his later critics. Since the 17th century some of Shakespeare’s readers have alternately complained or marveled at the way Othello has the fast pace and structure of a farce. This accounts for its exceptional power as a tragedy when it is intelligently performed; the double catastrophe of Othello’s murder of Desdemona and his own suicide come more quickly and more violently, for example, than the endings of Macbeth, King Lear, or Hamlet. All of Othello’s characters are cast in the stereotypical roles first created in Menander and other playwrights of Greek New Comedy, and then passed on to later European vernacular theater through Plautus and Terence’s adaptations. In performance, Shakespeare’s Iago is at once a reprise of his earlier stage villains and a reincarnation of the servus callidus or clever slave playwright of Plautus. It is as if Zero Mostel’s Pseudolus in Sondheim’s A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum were playing Richard III. Iago creates what he regards as a comedy, from its opening scene before Brabantio’s house to its catastrophic end in Cyprus, and to the bafflement of Christian interpreters and others, he seems incapable of recognizing the enormity of his evil. Unlike his resourceful Roman ancestors, who think up ingenious plots to help their less clever owners 78 iago’s roman ancestors in their love affairs, Iago’s scenario is demonic, designed to destroy his master Othello, not save him. As I’ve suggested, one comedy in particular may have played an important role in the making of Othello: Plautus’ Amphitryon, with its story of Jupiter’s adulterous affair with Alcmena, the wife of the heroic king Amphitryon of Thebes. To aid him in his schemes Jupiter calls on his son the trickster... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 122.2 (2001) 223-253 [Access article in PDF] The Economics Of Roman Elegy: Voluntary Poverty, The Recusatio, And The Greedy Girl Sharon L. James Roman love elegy presents sexual relationships between elite men and women of lower status in apparently reversed gender and power positions, so that the male is enslaved to his beloved domina. This metaphorical reversal, however, actually retains standard Roman (...) social structures, suggesting an inequity even within a private love affair: rather than sharing goals and desires, lover and beloved stand in a gendered opposition. Historically, elegy has been interpreted from the perspective of its male speakers, and much scholarship has focused on the characterizations of those speakers. But as it is legitimate to study the male elegiac speakers' viewpoint, it is likewise appropriate to consider that of his preferred love object and frequent addressee, the elegiac doctapuella. Since much of elegy is directed at a fictive, if named, woman, 1 such an approach may illuminate some of its rhetorical strategies and gender values, particularly as they derive from and relate to Roman gendered power constructs. Since elegy in particular generically anticipates the perspective of the docta puella, 2 and makes it a structural element of the [End Page 223] genre, to read elegy from that perspective provides both a necessary corrective or balance to the dominant male voice of the genre and a revelation of its inherent disingenuity. I will examine two related topoi of elegy--the recusatio and the problem of the "greedy girl"--from the position of the puella, a viewpoint that demonstrates the relationship between these two topoi and reveals the engine of Roman love elegy to be self-interested sexual persuasion rather than sincere confession of passion. 3This approach requires identifying the elegiac puella, the counterpart to the recognizable elite male speaker of Roman love elegy, the lover-poet. In my view, she is a fictional construct based upon the courtesan of New Comedy--that is, she is an elegant, educated woman who has no financial security and thus must earn her own living while she can. 4 [End Page 224] Identifying her in this way has several consequences, but only two concern us here.The first consequence is that many apparently individual character traits in an elegiac puella turn out to be professionally motivated behavior, as dictated by both Dipsas and Acanthis in Amores 1.8 and Propertius 4.5. A primary example is greed, for which the elegiac speakers never tire of criticizing their puellae, as though avaritia were a character flaw of a specific woman rather than a professional obligation. 5 Thus, when the lover-poet in Propertius 2.16 complains that Cynthia always weighs the purses of her lovers ("semper amatorum ponderat una sinus," 2.16.12), he is actually describing the behavior prescribed for her not only by the lena Acanthis, in poem 4.5 but in the pages of Roman comedy as well. 6 Comedy routinely presents the courtesan's needs and the young lover's desires as being at odds. The same structure of economic opposition governs the elegiac love affair: the puella plays a generic, professional part that may conflict with her personal inclinations or character (cf. Thais and Bacchis in Ter. Eun. and Hecyra). She is also presented as retaining her self-control while her impassioned lover loses his. 7 Like other courtesans of Roman comedy, Phronesium (Plaut. Truc.) is fully aware of both her present material and social circumstances and the [End Page 225] expiration date of her professional viability. Thus she necessarily seeks money and gifts from her lovers, both to maintain her attractions as an elegant woman 8 and to prepare for the future when she will no longer be able to practice her profession. Her literary granddaughter, the elegiac puella, does likewise (see, as noted above, the instruction of Acanthis and Dipsas, particularly lines 59-62 of Prop. 4.5 and 49-56 of Am. 1.8), and here it is worth recalling that even the male speakers of elegy allude... (shrink)

This paper examines the performance dynamics of onstage texts in Plautus’ comedies and, in the process, argues that an audience-level viewpoint is essential to understanding Latin stage comedy. Examples of rare epigraphic texts are compared with the more common motif of in-play “perishable texts.” The perishable type were performed by actors as though verbatim and transmit novel information to the audience. In contrast, epigraphic texts are paraphrased and so require specific knowledge. Each kind of text thus does different dramatic (...) work, and the difference originates in the different material “entanglements” of each medium in the lives of ancient Italians. As such, Plautus’ audiences understood comic theater through its extra-textual elements as much as through “the text” as we have it. To understand Roman comedy, scholars must also account for how ancient objects were entangled in Roman culture. (shrink)

Giambattista Vico is a philosopher with a deeply tragic sense of life. His theory of the course of nations does not entail a notion of progress. Nations are born, mature, decline, and perish, and the nations that rise in their wake must begin again from barbarism. Nevertheless, Vico has a doctrine of humor and laughter, which he details in a digression within short apologia, the “Vici Vindiciae.” No significant scholarly attention has ever been paid to this digression. In this article, (...) I critically consider Vico’s theory, with the greater intention of situating it in the context of his philosophy as a whole. I demonstrate that Vico’s association of “acute remarks” with the pursuit of truth, and his criticism of “argute remarks,” mockery, and laughter are an extension of his doctrine of the heroic mind. I also discuss the significance of Roman comedy for Vico as philologist. (shrink)

Greek tragedy, in Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, represents the performative realization of binary political difference, for example, “private versus public,” “man versus woman” or “nation versus state.” On the other hand, Roman comedy and French Revolutionary Terror, in Hegel, can be taken as radical expressions of political in-difference, defined as a state where all mediating structures of association and governance have collapsed into a world of “bread and circuses.” In examining the dialectical interplay between binary, tragic difference and (...) comedic, terrible in-difference, the paper arrives at hypothetical conclusions regarding how these political forms may be observed today. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Roman Literary Culture: From Cicero to ApuleiusWilliam S. AndersonElaine Fantham. Roman Literary Culture: From Cicero to Apuleius. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996. xv 1 326 pp. Cloth, $39.95.This is a book that needed to be written, in answer to a deep gap in our resources on Latin literature. As our current time and our students keep raising questions along the lines of (...) cultural history, we are obliged to seek answers about the circumstances that conditioned the production and consumption of [End Page 135] poetry and prose. Fantham’s book is a significant start on a project which, I dare predict, others in coming generations will be inspired to continue.Fantham modestly declares at the outset that she is contributing to the search “toward a social history of Latin literature.” If we ask her to elaborate on the extent of her project, she obliges as follows: “I see as important aspects of any literary work its author in his social and political setting, its recipients and their culture, and the medium or nature of its presentation” (2). Fleshing out each of these three aspects (author, audience, and medium of presentation), she devotes most attention to the various circumstances that affect the author. First of all, the author is almost universally male: Sulpicia is a precious exception that proves the rule. But then his social class may vary widely, as will his civil status in Rome. Fantham instances for contrast Cato and Ennius, the first a novus homo and therefore an almost fanatic advocate of Roman values, a thorough politician (consul, censor, senator), a celebrated speaker and a writer of prose (history and treatises on agriculture and education); the second a noncitizen Calabrian who came to Rome and won patronage for his poetry, then citizenship, practicing a variety of genres that looked to the Hellenistic world—a poet, not a politician. (An even greater contrast would have used Terence, a slave brought to Italy from Carthage and eventually freed because of his literary talents.) Fantham does not elaborate on how the different social and civil backgrounds affected the literary culture, except to say that senators and some equestrians did not need to resort to patronage, whereas of course outsiders and equestrians like Horace did. We would expect that social background would often have had decisive and particular influence on writers, but that is an area where we still are groping for reliable methodology. How often did men use their literary presentation to turn their backs on their socially inferior or non-Roman background? How often did they look at Roman culture obliquely from the alien cultural position of their origins?A writer’s education was obviously very important. We have a fair sense of how senatorial sons and wealthy equestrians were educated; Horace’s father, who wasn’t exactly poor, but rather undignified in the way he personally took the boy to and from school, saw to it that Horace was given an education that equaled the training of senatorial sons, both in Rome and later in Athens. Boys were taught Latin grammar, style, and the classics of Latin literature; and they were given a grounding in Greek. The amount of Greek and the relative mastery of that language would vary according to the century and the social and political intentions of the future writer. A young man whose family destined him for a political career and who one day might retire to write history, like Sallust or later Tacitus, would be unlikely to become as thoroughly bilingual and bicultural as a poet like Vergil, Horace, or Ovid, whose entire career was centered on poetry and achieving effective intertextuality with the great poets of Classical Greece and the Hellenistic world. There were men like Cato who ostentatiously [End Page 136] put Greek culture down (while instinctively exploiting it), and men like Catullus, a century later, who idolized the literary culture of Alexandria.As Fantham notes, the word “audience” (auditores) does not fully cover what we today mean by the literary public, but it was accurate to start with. Since the first literary material was tragedy and comedy, it was aimed at the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Slavery and the Roman Literary ImaginationJo-Ann SheltonWilliam Fitzgerald. Slavery and the Roman Literary Imagination. Roman Literature and Its Contexts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. xii + 129 pp. Cloth, $54.95; paper, $18.95.The study of slavery poses significant challenges for classical scholars. Slaves were numerous and ubiquitous in Roman society, and their almost constant presence surely affected the thoughts and behaviors of free persons. Many (...) ancient writers, from almost every genre, provide information about the practice of slavery, but they do not describe what it was like to be a free person surrounded by and dependent upon other human beings whom one considered inferior, yet essential. The proverb quoted by Seneca, totidem hostes esse quot servos, reveals that the pleasures and profits of slave ownership were accompanied by anxieties. These anxieties are the topic of this engaging book. Fitzgerald analyzes representations of slavery in literary texts in order to illuminate the ways in which slave owners imagined, structured and interpreted their experiences of being attended by servants. In the introduction, Fitzgerald provides several definitions of the phrase "living with slaves," which he uses throughout to denote the situation of the slave owner. (Fitzgerald generally uses the noun "master" to designate the dominant figure in the relationship, and masculine pronouns to refer to slaves.) He notes that the Romans inherited from the Athenians a conceptual structure that defined slavery and freedom, like body and mind, as polar opposites, but he suggests that it was difficult to reconcile this [End Page 599] theoretical opposition with the various interactions between slaves and free persons in everyday life. According to Fitzgerald, the slaveholder-slave relationship can best be understood as a set of ambiguities, contradictions, ironies, and paradoxes--whose clarification he undertakes. He maintains that literary texts are an appropriate source of information about the problems generated by living with slaves because "literature is preeminently the place where such complexities are expressed, exploited and managed" (9). He also asserts that slavery provided free persons with a metaphor for a range of other institutions, relationships, and experiences, and even for literature itself.In chapter 1, Fitzgerald explores literary representations of the slave as an "other self." One striking contradiction inherent in slavery was that a slave owner was best served by a slave who, on the one hand, acted as a mere extension of the owner's will, but, on the other hand, exercised judgment and showed initiative. The process of anticipating their owners' every thought required that slaves possess intimate knowledge of their owners, but this knowledge bestowed a power that was, paradoxically, incompatible with the slaves' subordinate status. Allowing one's slave total access to one's thoughts was, as Fitzgerald declares, one of the "attendant ironies of domination" (13). Silent, watchful slaves could, moreover, be a source of anxiety, if they were imagined to be judging one's behavior. Fitzgerald demonstrates how Horace, in Satires 2.7, exploits the specter of the judgmental slave to articulate a conflict within himself about his moral failings. The outraged and outspoken servile critic is, in fact, the voice of the master's conscience, a master who ironically is himself a critical observer of others. The clever slave and the exasperated slave owner are familiar figures in Roman comedy where, as Fitzgerald remarks, the antagonism that underlay the owner-slave relationship is a focus of comic interest. In real life, intelligent, resourceful slaves were valuable to their owners. In comedy, however, their behavior is portrayed as constantly threatening to the owners, who must assert their dominance through physical abuse. Analyzing a passage in Plautus' Persa (10-12), where a slave compares himself to his master's inflamed eye, Fitzgerald argues that the comparison indicates that the slave, like the eye, is essential to the master's well-being, but nonetheless irritates him and requires frequent scratching (physical abuse). As Fitzgerald points out, the abuse further aggravates, rather than alleviates, the situation, by making the eye/slave more inflamed. Chapter 1 ends with a discussion of poems in which Horace links the slave and the poet as providers of pleasure. Fitzgerald reads Odes 1.38, for example, as a poem in... (shrink)

Ovid: Of Love and Exile: Kierkegaard's Appropriation of Ovid -- Sallust: Kierkegaard's Scarce Use of a Great Roman Historian -- Seneca: Disjecta Membra in Kierkegaard's Writings -- Suetonius: Exemplars of Truth and Madness: Kierkegaard's Proverbial uses of Suetonius' Lives -- Tacitus: Christianity as odium generis humani -- Terence: Traces of Roman Comedy in Kierkegaard's Writings -- Valerius Maximus: Moral Exempla in Kierkegaard's Writings -- Virgil: From Farms to Empire: Kierkegaard's Understanding of a Roman Poet -- Index (...) of Persons -- Index of Subjects. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Big Women:Mark Adamo's Lysistrata, or the Nude Goddess Between Monteverdi and Musical ComedyRalph HexterWe live in an age when opera companies across America are regularly presenting new operas, and some of them are even making hesitant first steps into repertory status, though it is too soon to tell how long- or short-lived their performance history will be. Opera itself began—Peri's Dafne (1597) is commonly regarded as the starting point—as (...) an attempt to recreate Greek tragedy on the stage, and for at least its first two hundred years, plots drawing on classical material, if not always classical literary texts, were staples. Nineteenth-century opera composers were relatively less inclined to turn to the classics for plots and characters, but the twentieth century witnessed renewed activity in classically based operas, from Strauss' Elektra (1909) and Stravinsky's Oedipus Rex (1927) to Hans Werner Henze's Venus und Adonis (1997) and Randolph Peters' The Golden Ass (1999), to name but a few significant examples. Mark Adamo's Lysistrata, or the Nude Goddess, which premiered in Houston in 2005, is among the first operas in our new century to continue the tradition.Accompanied by a trio of distinguished distaff classicists, I attended the 2006 revival of Lysistrata, or the Nude Goddess at the New York City Opera. Some months later, as word of the outing—any resemblance to this or any other Aristophanic comedy is purely accidental—trickled out, AJP's editor asked me to write this "Brief Mention." The reader will infer, then, that I neither watched nor listened with the idea of writing such a notice. What follows are reflections based partially on recollection of my immediate impressions (especially of the music) but also on subsequent study of the published libretto,1 Adamo's earlier and quite popular Little Women (1998), and stray remarks of the composer in published or online [End Page 119] interviews. In no sense is it a review of the particular April 2nd matinee performance that I saw. Of that let me say that my impression was almost uniformly positive. The principals, who have very demanding parts (and not only vocally), were strong; several were reprising roles they had taken in the Houston world premiere.Adamo states on the title page of the libretto that the opera is "[f]reely adapted from the play by Aristophanes," and this is both true and to the good. Before I turn to the adaptation itself, it might be worth observing that within the reception history of ancient stageworks in opera, the tradition of classical comedies turned into operas is relatively slight. I put it that way because, of course, one might well argue that New Comedy in its Roman form is the ultimate source of all opera buffa. I say nothing new when I place Figaro directly in the line of servi callidi.2Greek Old Comedy (i.e., given the state of preservation, Aristophanes) has only infrequently provided fodder for opera. One of the most interesting cases is Walter Braunfels' setting of Aristophanes Birds—Die Vögel—premiered in 1920. Braunfels (1882–1954) was fired from his teaching post by the Nazis in 1933—he was half Jewish—and his works were banished from the repertory. Die Vögel, his most successful stagework, has been recently revived, and a recording is available in Decca's "Entartete ["degenerate"] Musik" series. One must also recall the famous Frogs performed in the pool of Yale's Payne Whitney Gymnasium in 1941, since, a generation later, in 1975, the piece was revived, provided with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and, like so many other shows, transferred from New Haven (if not the Shubert) to Broadway.3Aristophanes is more at home, I would argue, in American musical comedy than in opera, at least opera as it has come to be received by modern audiences treated almost without exception to post-Gluckian opera, with major houses, until recently, shunning the more interesting hybrids. (Think even of Carmen and how long it took for it to lose the recitatives by Guiraud that replaced the original opéra comique spoken dialogue.) To modern spectators or readers, Aristophanes, with... (shrink)

A lively and accessible introduction to the Greek and Roman origins of our political ideas In The Birth of Politics, Melissa Lane introduces the reader to the foundations of Western political thought, from the Greeks, who invented democracy, to the Romans, who created a republic and then transformed it into an empire. Tracing the origins of our political concepts from Socrates to Plutarch to Cicero, Lane reminds us that the birth of politics was a story as much of individuals (...) as ideas. Scouring the speeches of lawyers alongside the speculations of philosophers, and the reflections of ex-slaves next to the popular comedies and tragedies of the Greek and Roman stages, this book brings ancient ideas to life in unexpected ways. Lane shows how the Greeks and Romans defined politics with distinctive concepts, vocabulary, and practices—all of which continue to influence politics and political aspirations around the world today. She focuses on eight political ideas from the Greco-Roman world that are especially influential today: justice, virtue, constitution, democracy, citizenship, cosmopolitanism, republic, and sovereignty. Lane also describes how the ancient formulations of these ideas often challenge widely held modern assumptions—for example, that it is possible to have political equality despite great economic inequality, or that political regimes can be indifferent to the moral character of their citizens. A stimulating introduction to the origins of our political ideas and ideals, The Birth of Politics demonstrates how much we still have to learn from the political genius of the Greeks and Romans. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Constructing Literature in the Roman Republic: Poetry and Its ReceptionJoseph FarrellSander M. Goldberg. Constructing Literature in the Roman Republic: Poetry and Its Reception. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. xii + 249 pp. Cloth, $70.Just what forces in the earlier centuries of the Roman Republic gave shape to the literature of the late Republic and early Principate is an old question that has received new interest (...) in recent years. Sander Goldberg suggests that to put the question as I just have is to put things backwards. In this book he argues that it is not so much a matter of how earlier literature shaped later literature but rather of how scholars and readers in the late Republic converted the poetic remains of earlier centuries into "literature." For Goldberg, literature in the fullest sense did not exist at Rome before a sufficiently large and critically sophisticated reading public had emerged, and until the available texts had been collected, studied, and canonized; and this process, he believes, did not happen or at any rate was not complete until the time of Cicero and, especially, Varro. The latter, one of the heroes of Goldberg's story (and rightly so), was instrumental in (for instance) turning the scores of plays that traveled in his day under the name of Plautus into an authenticated oeuvre of the sort that defines literature: a corpus that can be owned, read and reread, studied, commented upon, argued over, and shared by a community of more or less like-minded, cultivated individuals. Literati, in fact.The idea is developed over a series of six chapters, plus an introduction and "Retrospective." The chapters are advertised as framing a continuous argument but also as capable of being read independently. They are arranged chronologically and bracketed thematically or imagistically by two arrivals: that of the Muse under the aegis of Rome's earliest poets and that of the one desired by Ovid, if not for himself back into Rome then for his works into the state-sponsored collection in the Palatine library. To my mind chapters 2 ("Constructing Literature") and 3 ("Comedy at Work") are the core of the book, as I have hinted [End Page 283] above and will explain further below; but subsequent chapters on tragedy (4, "Dido's Furies") and satire (5, "Enter Satire) offer novel commentaries on the history of these genres.In staking out his position, Goldberg distinguishes himself from two groups who already are rather at odds with one another. On the one hand there are those who think that Roman literature was indeed already literature from "the beginning"—i.e., from the time of Livius Andronicus. On the other are those who might agree with Goldberg that the Romans did not invent literature until the dying days of the Republic but who give credit (or blame) for this achievement mainly to a relatively small group of elite writers. So it will be fascinating to follow the reception of Goldberg's argument in both these camps. I, for my part, would not want to predict what effect the argument will have. Instead, I will mention what strike me as some of Goldberg's more salient points and will add a few comments by way of reaction.The decision to focus on readers strikes me as a positive contribution. Roman literary culture did not just happen, nor was it or could it have been created by writers alone. A public that wanted there to be a literature in Latin, one that was alive to ideas but also to the techniques that writers used to convey these ideas, was essential. Beyond this, scholars and teachers interested in the texts themselves and in showing readers what to do with them, scholars who were ambitious to create a culture of learning similar to the one that had for generations supported Greek literature, played an enormous role. Of course the writers are more visible to us, both as writers and as a peculiarly important audience for one another's work. But even in the smallest estimate of the literate population, there were many more readers than writers, and these numbers of readers are surely as important or more... (shrink)

This article proposes a new interpretation of slave religious experience in mid-republican Rome. Select passages from Plautine comedy and Cato the Elder's De agri cultura are paired with material culture as well as comparative evidence—mostly from studies of Black Atlantic slave religions—to reconstruct select aspects of a specific and distinctive slave “religiosity” in the era of large-scale enslavements. I work towards this reconstruction first by considering the subordination of slaves as religious agents before turning to slaves’ practice of certain (...) forms of religious expertise in the teeth of subordination and policing. After transitioning to an assessment of slave religiosity's role in the pursuit of freedom, I conclude with a set of methodological justifications for this paper's line of inquiry. (shrink)

The classical is defined by Gadamer, following and adapting Hegel, as “self-significant” and “self-interpretive”. By its power of interpreting itself, the classic reaches into the present and addresses it. In so doing, the classical precedes, encompasses and anticipates latter-day interpretations within its own already-in-progress self-interpretation: “the classical preserves itself precisely because it is significant in itself and interprets itself; that is, it speaks in such a way that it is not a statement about what is past — documentary evidence that (...) still needs to be interpreted — rather, it says something to the present as if it were said specifically to it”. This suggests specifically how the hermeneutic theory of the classic finds in the instance of the Commedia as classic, with its highlighting of the address to the reader, an exceptionally acute and self-conscious instantiation. Moreover, Dante has purposefully woven an ideal of the poetic classic as resistant to time together with his model of Christian salvation and resurrected life in the cantos of Purgatory recounting his meeting with the first-century Roman poet, Statius. Statius’ remark that “poet” is “the name that most endures and honors” (“il nome che più dura e che più onora” — XXI. 85) gestures towards a trans-historical value in literature parallel to the eternal truth of the word of the gospel. This parallelism achieves lapidary form when Statius gives credit for his discovery of enduring, preserving, saving value in both the literary and the religious domains at once to that greatest of classical authors, in Dante’s view, Virgil, to whom he says: “Per te poeta fui, per te cristiano” (“Through you I became poet, through you Christian”). Purgatorio XXI-XXII intimates that poiesis is fundamentally a way through which humans may participate in immortality. Though immortality is certainly a gift from the transcendent Lord of life, it does not come as an object wrapped up neatly for humans in a package. It comes, or rather is given, through their own making, through an active involvement with what transforms them in their own activity of self-transcendence. (shrink)

Pogost motiv v rimski paliati so medgeneracijski konflikti. Medtem ko očetje največkrat poudarjajo konvencionalno moralo in kažejo varčnost, že kar skoporitost, se sinovi v njihovi odsotnosti radi predajajo razvratu: zapravljajo denar, popivajo in se spuščajo v razmerja s heterami, ponavadi ob pomoči kakega nabritega domačega sužnja. Ker vlada v komediji saturnalijski narobe svet, na koncu »zmagajo« sinovi in sužnji, ki so tudi glavni junaki teh komedij. Tu in tam pa Plavt sinovom položi na jezik besede, ki odstopajo od njihovega siceršnjega (...) ravnanja in jih prikažejo v odgovornejši luči. Njegova najrazvpitejša »moralistična« komedija je Trinovčevo (Trinummus), vendar zasledimo moralno navdahnjene vložke in značajske lastnosti tudi v drugi komediji s podobnim izhodiščem, ki deluje veliko bolj razposajeno: v Hišnem strahu (Mostellaria). Ob primerjavi mladih protagonistov v Plavtovih komedijah Hišni strah in Trinovčevo ugotovimo, da je komedija Trinovčevo občutno bolj moralistična od Hišnega strahu, vendar po drugi strani tudi v slednjem ni mogoče videti gole burke kot, denimo, v Oslih (Asinaria) istega avtorja. Če si v Oslih oba protagonista, oče in sin, ki se pehata za isto meretrix, pravzaprav zaslužita zgolj posmeh občinstva, imajo glavni junak Hišnega strahu, njegov prijatelj in ljubica več značajskih lastnosti, ki so jih morale prikupiti tudi kritikom Katonovega kova. (shrink)

In the twentieth century the question of the relationship of Terence's Heautontimorumenos to its Greek original has been largely neglected or else dismissed on the grounds that it presents no major problem. It is true that, because of the new light which the discovery of the Cairo codex of Menander shed on the nature and role of the chorus in Greek new comedy, there was a flurry of activity concerning the difficult passage 167 ff.; but the far more fundamental (...) problem of contaminatio in general and of the meaning and interpretation of lines 4 to 6 of the play's prologue has attracted comparatively little attention. H. Marti produced a two-part survey of work done on Terence in the years 1909 to 1959; in it he says that in the period under review the question of contaminatio in Heauton–in the sense of the fusion of two originals –has been totally abandoned, with the exception of one article by F. Skutsch in which he holds to his earlier views on the subject. Marti also refers to Kohler's earlier work on the same problem, and to the discussion to be found in Kuiper's more comprehensive work on Roman comedy, but that is all. (shrink)

This volume deploys recent feminist epistemological frameworks to analyze how concepts like knowledge, authority, rationality, objectivity and testimony were constructed in Greece and Rome. The introduction serves as a field guide to feminist epistemological interpretations of classical sources, and the following sixteen chapters treat a variety of genres and time periods, from Greek poetry, tragedy, philosophy, oratory, historiography and material culture to Roman comedy, epic, oratory, letters, law and their reception. By using an intersectional approach to demonstrate how (...) epistemic systems exclude and pathologize the experiences of ancient women and other oppressed groups, these contributions aid in the recovery of non-dominant narratives and reveal issues of sex, gender, race, ethnicity, sexual identity, religion, age, class, familial status and citizenship in the ancient and modern world. The volume contributes to a more inclusive and equitable study of classical antiquity and builds transhistorical connections capable of exposing similar injustices in our own time. (shrink)