It's pretty hard to escape the pull of the Procopius-black hole when it comes to the sixth-century East Roman Empire, at least if you're interested in military and political issues. That's part of the reason why scholars like Roger Scott have devoted so much attention to the other historians like Malalas. Scott's four pillars of the age of Justinian are: the construction of Hagia Sophia, the codification of Roman law, the closing of Plato's Academy in Athens, and Justinian's reconquest of the west. Although Procopius does devote considerable attention to Hagia Sophia in the Buildings, it's the reconquest that garners so much attention in the Wars. There's no doubt that this presents a skewed view of Justinian's world. In this post, however, I'd like to flip things around. To what degree does Procopius' interests in war obscure other pertinent matters, and in turn cause most of us to overlook other important pieces of evidence? Bearing all this in mind, I want to discuss six aspects of Procopius' military history: his classicizing vocabulary, his descriptions of combat, his interest in the conquest of Africa and Italy, and his focus on Belisarius in the Wars, his account of the fortifications of the northeast frontier in the Buildings, and his account of the malaise of the empire's soldiers in the Secret History.
Let's begin with the latter, and proceed in reverse order, finishing with Belisarius. In the Secret History Procopius' emphasizes the suffering of most of the empire's inhabitants, and the soldiers are no exception. One particular group that Procopius complains suffered a great deal are the border troops, who got into such a sorry state that they effectively stopped being soldiers. If we forget about Procopius' comments here, and in the other two texts for that matter, in which frontier troops feature hardly at all, and instead look at the surviving evidence we get quite a different picture, at least potentially. We have plenty of documentary evidence for frontier soldiers in Egypt and Israel/Palestine, and to a lesser degree Jordan. That material points to thriving frontier communities full of soldiers, who identify as such. Most seem fully integrated into local life, and if anything the abundance of property documents, not to mention marriage certificates, point to some degree of wealth and prosperity amongst those very soldiers. So where are they getting their money? Have they managed to supplement their income through other means, as some has suggested was the case with the soldier from Aphrodito who also served as a boatmen? Or is their income derived primarily if not entirely from their state income? If we didn't have Procopius' comments, I suspect the argument would be that the frontier soldiers were flourishing, at least in the sixth-century southeast. The legal evidence, which is full of material concerned specifically with soldiers, would reinforce these sorts of arguments.
Next we move to the forts of the northeast. Procopius' love-in for Justinians' building programme has led to a great debate: just how many of the fortification work we read about is really attributable to him? Many have highlighted the work of Anastasius, for instance, though in other cases the jury is still out. What if all we had were the surviving fortifications and a few incidental anecdotes? Justinian's efforts would certainly be diminished, but then so too might Anastasius'. There are plenty of forts still standing in Syria (or there were until recently), and plenty more in Jordan. The date of some of those Jordanian forts are ambiguous, while others are more obviously fourth century in date. Some seem to have been occupied regularly, though only some have been privy to detailed excavations. If all we had to go on was these Jordanian (and the neighbouring Israeli/Palestinian forts) forts, we wouldn't see Justinian's reign as an age of considerable frontier work in this part of the frontier, though the comparative epigraphic and papyrological evidence would imply that many if not most of the fortifications continued to the sites of a good deal of activity.
Procopius tends to use archaic vocabulary, vocabulary better suited to the world of Thucydides, or so goes the usual complaints. This applies to military matters too, and we get hints of this in the words he uses for divisions within the military. Much of his terminology is vague: the men with general X, the infantry, the horsemen, etc. In other cases, his diction has occluded more than it has illuminated. He likes to use the word katalologos, for instance, a word rarely used by classical or even classicizing historians, when describing groups of soldiers (units or even regiments). Quite a few have taken this to mean that the term had a more technical meaning, and more specifically that it denoted the army's field units. It's not an unreasonable assumption if we assume that Procopius is mostly concerned with the field unit soldiers (at the expense of frontier soldiers). That it features in virtually no other military source for the sixth century should give us pause, however, and A H M Jones is one of the only ones to have done so. If we didn't have Procopius' Wars narrative where he used words like katalogos we'd probably devote more attention to the words we do occasionally find in the inscriptions and papyri. The newly published inscription form Perge would receive a great deal of attention - and scholars would likely be obsessed with how we get from the regiments of the eastern section of the Notitia Dignitatum to the units of Maurice, with no unnecessary - even unhelpful - pauses to consider Procopius. To some degree this might still happen, though maybe it should happen sooner. Is it not, for example, interesting that Theophylact can talk of legions on the eastern frontier around the same time that we find the word "legion" in Egyptian papyri - and just a few decades after that Anastasian inscription detailing the structure (it seems) of a legion?
Turning to combat, Maurice's Strategikon might give the impression that cavalry played a major role in combat at the end of the sixth century. But it wouldn't explain quite which proportions of the military dominated decades earlier. Our material evidence is limited, while the other evidence is ambiguous. If we had to rely on Pseudo-Joshua, we wouldn't get too far. Corippus' Iohannis, though quite detailed, is a panegyrical epic, and his combat scenes are vaguely Homeric: they involve single combats, and the dashing to and fro of soldiers into and out of battle. Agathias, on the other hand, does go to some
lengths to describe the experience of combat even if he spends only a
little on the finer details. In his most detailed battle, the Battle of Casilinum, there's little in his account that betrays a clear emphasis on either cavalry or infantry. That might help provide context for the anonymous treatise of political science which includes that fictional debate between Menas and Thomas on the relative merits of the two solitudes to borrow a Canadian literary-cum-historical phrase. But whether cavalry had supplanted infantry would not yet be clear.
Moving on to the conquest, we would suspect that the campaign in Italy had the smallest of impacts on matters in the capital, which would be in line with some of Scott's arguments. Even the more local evidence, the Lives of the Popes, devotes only a little bit of attention to the war, with the siege of Rome, such a central feature of Procopius' account, restricted to a few lines. North Africa, on the other hand, is something else. Later writers, like Photius and Theophanes, who had read all of part of Procopius, either paraphrase or quote Procopius' narrative of the Vandal Wars. The aforementioned epic of Corippus also gives the impression that a significant conflict had taken place in the region. In fact, we could even look to another of the four pillars, Roman law, for yet more evidence of the war's impact. Besides the overt propaganda at the opening of the Codex of Justinian, there are specific laws that point the acquisition of significant territory in North Africa, and the efforts of the state to administer the new lands. What this evidence might imply was that a long and significant war had taken place in North Africa, which resulted in a lasting Roman victory.
That North African success brings us to the last point, the reputation of Belisarius. It seems to me, and many others besides, that his reputation rests largely on the literary efforts of Procopius. A closer look at the epigraphy, on the other hand, might bring greater attention to Solomon, who published his successes in North Africa quite widely. Belisarius features in maybe a dozen Latin inscriptions, and a handful of Greek ones. Solomon, however, features in nearly three times as many Latin inscriptions from North Africa. On this limited evidence the impression might be that Solomon was the great general of the age, or at least the campaign. Thanks to Agathias, Narses' reputation might rise too, and though the historian is not unflattering towards Belisarius, his account gives only the vaguest impression of the man's military accomplishments. Indeed, if all we had to go on was the many later references to Procopius' works, we'd be left wondering what the scope of Belisarius' accomplishment truly was, and perhaps a little baffled the comments of authors like the one who wrote the entry on Procopius in the Suda, or the later Byzantine historian Manasses.
All this is to suggest that the survival of Procopius' long works has not only obfuscated our understanding of the wider world of sixth-century Byzantium, but also more specifically Byzantine military affairs. While his work has undoubtedly shed a great deal of light on matters like combat, in other instances, such as the careers of "lesser" generals like Solomon or the hardships of the frontier soldiers, what he has provided has obscured other important aspects of the empire's military history. A greater focus on these other kinds of evidence for sixth-century military affairs might bring a much more about this period to light.
NOTE: I'd forgotten about Foss' paper on Theodora. He does this, only with the Secret History. I've got a copy, but haven't read it yet (will do so now...)
Showing posts with label Agathias. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Agathias. Show all posts
Thursday, 19 April 2018
Thursday, 17 August 2017
Procopius Revisited
Time for some more reflection. First, I love the fact that Cameron's and Kaldellis' chapters bookend the book. I also confess a great love - too strong? - for reading about how scholars came to their chosen topics/views. Reading Cameron's discussion of how she came to Procopius were fascinating. At the same time, I like Kaldellis' idea that more of us (those writing about Procopius) ought to say why we like reading him. I admit in my own case I was influenced by three things. I knew little about late antiquity (why did we cut off there?), but I started doing some background reading to bring myself up to speed. One particularly influential book for me was Cameron's first edition of the Mediterranean in Late Antiquity. In that book, this fellow Procopius kept popping up. While I don't remember what stood out, I do remember the sense that he seemed an intriguing figure who deserved closer attention. I seem to recall too that some of the formative thinking about this took place on a stationary bike at the McMaster University athletic centre (circa 2001, 2002).
Second, I love these sorts of chapters/papers: ones that highlight key aspects of a topic, some gaps in the scholarship, and avenues for future work. More often than not, these are the ones that have the most scribbles in my copies. Given my love for Roman military things, historiography things, and late antique things, it's no surprise that these chapters here really float my boat.
Third, I want to go back to a couple of points that both Cameron and Kaldellis have made (separate ones, more or less), which have given me much to think about. One is Cameron's emphasis on narrative and storytelling, that I mentioned in my woe-is-me post (which also has me thinking: what sorts of efforts should we make to publicize our books, and how can I make my work reach more people?). Cameron notes that his narrative approach relates to writers of sixth century history as well as other types of Byzantine prose writing, like hagiography. That's a fascinating idea, and I'm sure not wrong. I remember coming across all sorts of useful discussion vaguely related to these comments in Clark's 2004 book, History, Theory, Text. Maybe this is one avenue that deserves more exploration: Procopius and hagiography. After all, Procopius spends a lot of time characterizing a few individuals in his Wars, to say nothing of his Secret History. In crafting his portraits of Belisarius, has Procopius adopted and adapted some of the techniques employed by hagiographers?
Cameron also draws attention to Procopius' writing practices, especially with respect to what he chose to include and exclude. I talked about this a bit, but I'll be touching on it even more in the sequel. It seems to me that one of the hardest things to grasp (and it's almost certainly impossible) is why Procopius left things out, and one particular topic I'll be looking at in the book is recruitment. I suspect that as work continues on this sequel, I might have to address quite regularly why things were left out: did it suit his literary objectives somehow, is it a desire to make his work more palatable to his audience? There's so much he likely did know, even the regularly military stuff I'm interested, that he doesn't discuss.
Yeah, I seem to be trailing off so I'll move on to the next topic. Cameron stresses that all three of Procopius' works are anchored in material life, while Kaldellis (following Turquois) highlights the materiality of Procopius' writing. This is how he "structures, textures, surfaces, and fleshes out a world for us" (Kaldellis 2017: 265). His point is that Procopius has produced a literary simulacrum of sixth-century experience, and he draws attention to a number of topics for which this might be true including weapons, wounds, and forts. What I need to do, clearly, is read Turquois' thesis in its entirety and bear her conclusions in mind when looking at all the war stuff. One current project, stemming from the grant, is on battle narrative in late antique classicizing historiography. It might be worthwhile to consider all this as I examine (or continue - it's well on its way) my intended subjects, Ammianus, Jordanes, Procopius, Agathias, and Theophylact. As it happens, when it comes to open or pitched battle, Procopius might well be one of the weaker ones of the group. I think, if anything, Agathias and Ammianus might be the strongest in this regard, though only time will tell (and more reading).
Unfortunately now Cameron and Kaldellis have me wanting to write a third and fourth sequel of my Procopius book, the third on narrative techniques in the Wars as a whole (maybe narrative and character), the fourth on the materiality of warfare in Procopius. But then I'll never do any of these other things. Maybe I could combine the two into my eventual study of Agathias? If nothing else, this book has so far reminded me why Procopius might still be one of my favourite topics. It's also been a very challenging year or three professionally, and it's stimulating discussions like these that keep me going.
Second, I love these sorts of chapters/papers: ones that highlight key aspects of a topic, some gaps in the scholarship, and avenues for future work. More often than not, these are the ones that have the most scribbles in my copies. Given my love for Roman military things, historiography things, and late antique things, it's no surprise that these chapters here really float my boat.
Third, I want to go back to a couple of points that both Cameron and Kaldellis have made (separate ones, more or less), which have given me much to think about. One is Cameron's emphasis on narrative and storytelling, that I mentioned in my woe-is-me post (which also has me thinking: what sorts of efforts should we make to publicize our books, and how can I make my work reach more people?). Cameron notes that his narrative approach relates to writers of sixth century history as well as other types of Byzantine prose writing, like hagiography. That's a fascinating idea, and I'm sure not wrong. I remember coming across all sorts of useful discussion vaguely related to these comments in Clark's 2004 book, History, Theory, Text. Maybe this is one avenue that deserves more exploration: Procopius and hagiography. After all, Procopius spends a lot of time characterizing a few individuals in his Wars, to say nothing of his Secret History. In crafting his portraits of Belisarius, has Procopius adopted and adapted some of the techniques employed by hagiographers?
Cameron also draws attention to Procopius' writing practices, especially with respect to what he chose to include and exclude. I talked about this a bit, but I'll be touching on it even more in the sequel. It seems to me that one of the hardest things to grasp (and it's almost certainly impossible) is why Procopius left things out, and one particular topic I'll be looking at in the book is recruitment. I suspect that as work continues on this sequel, I might have to address quite regularly why things were left out: did it suit his literary objectives somehow, is it a desire to make his work more palatable to his audience? There's so much he likely did know, even the regularly military stuff I'm interested, that he doesn't discuss.
Yeah, I seem to be trailing off so I'll move on to the next topic. Cameron stresses that all three of Procopius' works are anchored in material life, while Kaldellis (following Turquois) highlights the materiality of Procopius' writing. This is how he "structures, textures, surfaces, and fleshes out a world for us" (Kaldellis 2017: 265). His point is that Procopius has produced a literary simulacrum of sixth-century experience, and he draws attention to a number of topics for which this might be true including weapons, wounds, and forts. What I need to do, clearly, is read Turquois' thesis in its entirety and bear her conclusions in mind when looking at all the war stuff. One current project, stemming from the grant, is on battle narrative in late antique classicizing historiography. It might be worthwhile to consider all this as I examine (or continue - it's well on its way) my intended subjects, Ammianus, Jordanes, Procopius, Agathias, and Theophylact. As it happens, when it comes to open or pitched battle, Procopius might well be one of the weaker ones of the group. I think, if anything, Agathias and Ammianus might be the strongest in this regard, though only time will tell (and more reading).
Unfortunately now Cameron and Kaldellis have me wanting to write a third and fourth sequel of my Procopius book, the third on narrative techniques in the Wars as a whole (maybe narrative and character), the fourth on the materiality of warfare in Procopius. But then I'll never do any of these other things. Maybe I could combine the two into my eventual study of Agathias? If nothing else, this book has so far reminded me why Procopius might still be one of my favourite topics. It's also been a very challenging year or three professionally, and it's stimulating discussions like these that keep me going.
Tuesday, 13 December 2016
Agathias, a Herodotus for the Age of Justinian
I've been slowly working my way through Agathias, reading the text, in translation I admit (though with the accompanying Greek text), much closer than I ever have before. Some of it I'd already gone through before, but this time I'm trying to soak it all in, so to speak, partially keeping my open for certain things, like evidence of combat motivation (for a paper) and military communities (again for a paper), but while also keeping my eyes open to interesting features. I've found more than a few, and as I near the end there are a few things stand out. I'd planned to discuss a few of them here, but the others, the careful crafting of his historian persona, his abundant (in comparison to Procopius) methodological statements, his interest in the personal or intimate anecdotes, and his interest in the sensory and the emotional will have to wait for another day, because I'm tired. So here, a couple of observations on his Herodotean proclivities.
For one, Agathias is, in many respects, far more Herodotean than I had appreciated before. Some time ago Averil Cameron went carefully through a set of supposed correspondences identified by Franke and highlighted some of the glaring problems. Much of what she said all that time ago makes a lot of sense. Some years later, Whitby (nb - former supervisor) highlighted, if briefly, Agathias' love of digressions. While I take Cameron's point, it's worth highlighting those digressions. While they might seem weird and unnecessary - Agathias has been criticized for spending too much time on things that matter too little - I think they do offer him a means of engaging more fully with his audience. He wants to show us what he knows, though more on that personal aspect in a second. It also gives him a chance to display his learning, while also adhering to the grand classical historical tradition. Digressions were important, and this was one of their distinctive features that he chose to pay attention to, in part because he knew what his strengths were.
Now the very fact that his longest of digressions concerns the Persians should be a red flag: he has Herodotus on his mind. Yes, it's also relevant. The most recent Persian war was drawing to a close, and the historian who professed to be succeeding, Procopius, had devoted considerable attention to them. But the most obvious ancient historian, for any late antique or Byzantine historian to my eyes, when Persians are the subject is Herodotus. That doesn't necessarily mean that he needed to flood his Persian-themed discussions with Herodotean-borrowings. In fact, it would be difficult, given Herodotus wrote in Ionian Greek and Agathias favoured the Atticizing Greek of Procopius and their predecessors. While there likely are a host of particular episodes in Herodotus that are paralleled in Agathias, I'm not so sure it has to be so exact.
There's one last Herodotean characteristic, a smaller one, admittedly, that I want to draw attention to. Agathias regularly presents two explanations or theories in his digressions. So, something along the lines of, some think this is the case, others think this is the case. Quite often, and possibly in the latter half in particular - though I'd have to check, it might just be my memory - Agathias will also finish a digression or extended discussion with something along the lines of, let the reader decide for him or herself how she feels. To me, that screams of Herodotus, more so than anything else. It'll do with some fleshing out, however.
So, his Herodotean-leanings deserve additional attention. Plus, it has me rethinking what I said about his Thucydidean-borrowings in a chapter that'll be out next year. Basically, I said he was less successful, by some margin, at the Thucydidean-style history than Procopius. While this hasn't changed my mind, I would, on further thought, have made greater emphasis on the possibility - lo likelihood - that this was ok, because that wasn't what he had in mind: Agathias didn't want to be a modern-day Thucydides, for Procopius had already done that. Indeed, he spends lots of time commending Procopius for what he's already done, and stressing what he'll do differently. Rather, Agathias, I'm starting to think, was much more interested in being a modern-day Herodotus.
For one, Agathias is, in many respects, far more Herodotean than I had appreciated before. Some time ago Averil Cameron went carefully through a set of supposed correspondences identified by Franke and highlighted some of the glaring problems. Much of what she said all that time ago makes a lot of sense. Some years later, Whitby (nb - former supervisor) highlighted, if briefly, Agathias' love of digressions. While I take Cameron's point, it's worth highlighting those digressions. While they might seem weird and unnecessary - Agathias has been criticized for spending too much time on things that matter too little - I think they do offer him a means of engaging more fully with his audience. He wants to show us what he knows, though more on that personal aspect in a second. It also gives him a chance to display his learning, while also adhering to the grand classical historical tradition. Digressions were important, and this was one of their distinctive features that he chose to pay attention to, in part because he knew what his strengths were.
Now the very fact that his longest of digressions concerns the Persians should be a red flag: he has Herodotus on his mind. Yes, it's also relevant. The most recent Persian war was drawing to a close, and the historian who professed to be succeeding, Procopius, had devoted considerable attention to them. But the most obvious ancient historian, for any late antique or Byzantine historian to my eyes, when Persians are the subject is Herodotus. That doesn't necessarily mean that he needed to flood his Persian-themed discussions with Herodotean-borrowings. In fact, it would be difficult, given Herodotus wrote in Ionian Greek and Agathias favoured the Atticizing Greek of Procopius and their predecessors. While there likely are a host of particular episodes in Herodotus that are paralleled in Agathias, I'm not so sure it has to be so exact.
There's one last Herodotean characteristic, a smaller one, admittedly, that I want to draw attention to. Agathias regularly presents two explanations or theories in his digressions. So, something along the lines of, some think this is the case, others think this is the case. Quite often, and possibly in the latter half in particular - though I'd have to check, it might just be my memory - Agathias will also finish a digression or extended discussion with something along the lines of, let the reader decide for him or herself how she feels. To me, that screams of Herodotus, more so than anything else. It'll do with some fleshing out, however.
So, his Herodotean-leanings deserve additional attention. Plus, it has me rethinking what I said about his Thucydidean-borrowings in a chapter that'll be out next year. Basically, I said he was less successful, by some margin, at the Thucydidean-style history than Procopius. While this hasn't changed my mind, I would, on further thought, have made greater emphasis on the possibility - lo likelihood - that this was ok, because that wasn't what he had in mind: Agathias didn't want to be a modern-day Thucydides, for Procopius had already done that. Indeed, he spends lots of time commending Procopius for what he's already done, and stressing what he'll do differently. Rather, Agathias, I'm starting to think, was much more interested in being a modern-day Herodotus.
Tuesday, 5 April 2016
Agathias on War
It may seem all too predictable, especially given the trajectories of Cameron and Kaldellis, but for a long time I've considered dabbling much deeper into the world of Agathias. As little as there has been written on Procopius, even less has been written on Agathias, and a good part of that, for obvious reasons, has been devoted to his poetic proclivities. What is more, though this is, to some degree, par for the course, opinions of his capabilities vary widely, and there have been no sustained and extensive treatments of his value as an historian. Kaldellis did write a handful of papers that focused on Agathias the historian, and Cameron wrote her monograph on Agathias more generally, but there's nothing substantial (in terms of size at least - not quality) out there on Agathias as an historian, and certainly nothing focused on his military credentials.
And yet, despite his legal background and poetic leanings, Agathias devoted a lengthy, or at least significant, and detailed history to military matters, a fact which he himself professed early in his text. He self-consciously followed in the footsteps of Procopius, at times seeking to distance himself from Procopius' perceived failings, at others subtly agreeing and/or engaging with Procopius' military leanings. Some see Agathias' discussion of military matters as excellent (Syvanne); others as sub-par (Wheeler). And yet, if no one has undertaken a sustained analysis, how can we know, and how should we use him, if at all?
It's hard to underscore his importance, whether real or potential. Like Xenophon in his Hellenica to Thucydides in his History, Agathias picks up exactly where Procopius left off in book 8. And yet, unlike Procopius, his narrative is concentrated on only a few years, though important ones for Justinian's empire. Agathias' History is undoubtedly shorter than Procopius' Wars - and the fact that current editions and translations don't exist in comparable texts makes my attempts to eyeball the differences between them questionable at best, there's no getting round the potential benefits of that level of detail.
As I go through the History for other reasons, and start thinking I should devote more energy to the military character of his writing than I have (my interest in Procopius waxes and wanes several times over the course of a day), there have been a number of things that have jumped out at me. For instance, he seems to engage with Procopius regularly, often indirectly, at least when one focuses on the military angle. This is, I think, worth drawing attention too, especially since he's less overt in these instances than he is when it comes to the Persians, for instance.
In addition, we know that Agathias lacked Procopius' experience with war, and so his sources for military matters would inevitably have differed in significant ways. This would seem to cast doubt on his usefulness on military matters, though so many people who write about war these days who consider themselves experts, at least of a sort, have had no such experiences themselves, myself included. Thus, it's not out of the realm of possibility for an educated and intelligent writer like Agathias to track down all the necessary materials to craft a believable work of military historiography. Indeed, with this in mind, another topic that I'd have to explore would be Agathias' engagement with wider military thinking, both that evinced in the surviving military manuals, but also in the wider world. It has struck me that Agathias' accounts have seemed far more sensible and satisfactory than I had expected and been led to believe - or even remember. Admittedly, the last time I read him in this much detail my interest was focused almost squarely on combat.
Anyway, much to consider. While a thorough analysis may reveal that he doesn't deserve to be classed with Procopius, it might well be that he deserves more credit than he often gets, at least, again, in the realm of military matters. Indeed, as I've noted before, if nothing else he seems to be one of the best writers of the experience of combat, a not unimportant subject in the wider category of military history.
And yet, despite his legal background and poetic leanings, Agathias devoted a lengthy, or at least significant, and detailed history to military matters, a fact which he himself professed early in his text. He self-consciously followed in the footsteps of Procopius, at times seeking to distance himself from Procopius' perceived failings, at others subtly agreeing and/or engaging with Procopius' military leanings. Some see Agathias' discussion of military matters as excellent (Syvanne); others as sub-par (Wheeler). And yet, if no one has undertaken a sustained analysis, how can we know, and how should we use him, if at all?
It's hard to underscore his importance, whether real or potential. Like Xenophon in his Hellenica to Thucydides in his History, Agathias picks up exactly where Procopius left off in book 8. And yet, unlike Procopius, his narrative is concentrated on only a few years, though important ones for Justinian's empire. Agathias' History is undoubtedly shorter than Procopius' Wars - and the fact that current editions and translations don't exist in comparable texts makes my attempts to eyeball the differences between them questionable at best, there's no getting round the potential benefits of that level of detail.
As I go through the History for other reasons, and start thinking I should devote more energy to the military character of his writing than I have (my interest in Procopius waxes and wanes several times over the course of a day), there have been a number of things that have jumped out at me. For instance, he seems to engage with Procopius regularly, often indirectly, at least when one focuses on the military angle. This is, I think, worth drawing attention too, especially since he's less overt in these instances than he is when it comes to the Persians, for instance.
In addition, we know that Agathias lacked Procopius' experience with war, and so his sources for military matters would inevitably have differed in significant ways. This would seem to cast doubt on his usefulness on military matters, though so many people who write about war these days who consider themselves experts, at least of a sort, have had no such experiences themselves, myself included. Thus, it's not out of the realm of possibility for an educated and intelligent writer like Agathias to track down all the necessary materials to craft a believable work of military historiography. Indeed, with this in mind, another topic that I'd have to explore would be Agathias' engagement with wider military thinking, both that evinced in the surviving military manuals, but also in the wider world. It has struck me that Agathias' accounts have seemed far more sensible and satisfactory than I had expected and been led to believe - or even remember. Admittedly, the last time I read him in this much detail my interest was focused almost squarely on combat.
Anyway, much to consider. While a thorough analysis may reveal that he doesn't deserve to be classed with Procopius, it might well be that he deserves more credit than he often gets, at least, again, in the realm of military matters. Indeed, as I've noted before, if nothing else he seems to be one of the best writers of the experience of combat, a not unimportant subject in the wider category of military history.
Tuesday, 2 February 2016
A Sensory History of Combat in Late Antiquity
Several months ago, Jonathan Eaton introduced a book to me on Twitter that presented a seemingly novel way of approaching historical combat. The book in question is Mark Smith's The Smell of Battle, the Taste of a Siege: a sensory history of the Civil War, does what it's title suggests. I haven't finished it yet, but I've been working through it while working on a number of other things.
Admittedly, and for my sins, I've contemplated/started working a sensory history of combat in late antiquity, and the sixth century in particular. While it's early days yet, there are a few things that have struck me about this approach to war, especially when the ancient world is the subject matter. The first is the inevitable, "is this even possible". Smith's book draws on all sorts of different kinds of evidence, from letters to newspaper and magazine articles, and paintings. He's also able to draw on the perspectives of a wide swath of the 19th c. US. As always, we don't have the same quantity of material, and the perspectives are much more limited. What's more, even if there is considerable variety in the kinds of literary evidence that we have from the sixth century, and if it comes from all sorts of different people, that late antique swath wasn't all interested in the same things. We may have monks and officers and local elites writing about all sorts of things, but it's still a restricted group of people who write about war: historians, though not always, and the occasional poet. We do have letters, of course, both the more polished published ones (say of Augustine), and seemingly more authentic ones preserved on papyri, but even when we have letters with military figures they're not writing home about war. So, we're still restricted: we have well-educated men, writing in Greek and Latin, operating in an archaic, by their own day, literary world, with some exceptions. This makes it tough to get a balanced picture.
Another thing that has struck me is related to the first. Most of our evidence for combat comes from literary descriptions that, for right or wrong, follow a traditional model. The bulk, majority, even all the writers were classically educated, and well-versed in rhetorical exercises. Those rhetorical exercises, when they were discussing battle or not, emphasized the sensory. Indeed, battle itself was classed as an ekphrasis, and the purpose of an ekphrasis was to bring the thing described before the eyes of the reader or listener. You could, too, extend the eyes to the mind - the reader/listener should be able to imagine what they're reading/listening to. And, while a great deal of attention is placed on the visual, some of the language is directed towards other senses, like sound. The conundrum, then, should be all too obvious. I'm looking for evidence of the sensory experience of battle. To find it I'm having to rely on, by and large, literary accounts that are, in turn, heavily dependent on classical models that emphasize the sensory. How do you separate the literary from the historical? Book 8 of the Wars and Agathias' History provide very descriptive sensory accounts of combat, which aren't dissimilar from the literary flourishes of Corippus, the epic poet, in his Iohannis. Is it possible to disentangle this material?
One last thing I want to draw attention to is the character of Smith's book, at least so far. It seems to be heavy on description, and short of analysis. Granted, the purpose seems to be to get a sense of what it was like to experience an historical event, in Smith's case the Civil War (US), based on what evidence and tools we have at our disposal. In the case of war, however, this seems to be a version of Keegan's "face of battle", which advocated approaching battle from the perspective of the common soldiers rather than the officers and generals that had featured so heavily. I am, then, struggling to see what makes this sensory history unique. Granted, I've read almost nothing, and none of it has focused on antiquity, but at this point I'm quite sceptical.
I have a growing list of items to read, one of which combines archaeology and the senses. Indeed, when I decided to give it a go, I thought about how I might find comparative evidence to support (contradict, or other) what I find in the literary accounts, and the physical evidence seemed to be a way forward. I've thought about the kinds of weapons that we're likely to be used, and what sorts of sensations they were likely to give: what do iron swords sound like when they crash together, what does it feel like when 100s or 1000s of horses come barrelling down a hill, what does it taste like to have your face in the dirt as you're trampled by your comrades in the midst of mad dash to escape? If I know something about the environment of a battle (near a city or out in the middle of nowhere), the season (what temperature might it have been, and what sort of precipitation might they have had to deal with), the time of day, the number of participants, and their constituent parts perhaps I can draw on this factual material along with some comparative evidence (the feel of 100s/1000s of horses) perhaps I can write a sensory history of sorts.
At this point, however, and to be perfectly honest I'm not sure. Indeed I might be able to pull this off, though I might also end up writing an essay that all-but-slams this approach to history. And yet, on the other hand, while my mind says yes, my heart says no (don't do it) - this has often been what I'd like to know most. What was it like to be alive and experience a particular epoch? Well, perhaps I'm finally about to find out.
Admittedly, and for my sins, I've contemplated/started working a sensory history of combat in late antiquity, and the sixth century in particular. While it's early days yet, there are a few things that have struck me about this approach to war, especially when the ancient world is the subject matter. The first is the inevitable, "is this even possible". Smith's book draws on all sorts of different kinds of evidence, from letters to newspaper and magazine articles, and paintings. He's also able to draw on the perspectives of a wide swath of the 19th c. US. As always, we don't have the same quantity of material, and the perspectives are much more limited. What's more, even if there is considerable variety in the kinds of literary evidence that we have from the sixth century, and if it comes from all sorts of different people, that late antique swath wasn't all interested in the same things. We may have monks and officers and local elites writing about all sorts of things, but it's still a restricted group of people who write about war: historians, though not always, and the occasional poet. We do have letters, of course, both the more polished published ones (say of Augustine), and seemingly more authentic ones preserved on papyri, but even when we have letters with military figures they're not writing home about war. So, we're still restricted: we have well-educated men, writing in Greek and Latin, operating in an archaic, by their own day, literary world, with some exceptions. This makes it tough to get a balanced picture.
Another thing that has struck me is related to the first. Most of our evidence for combat comes from literary descriptions that, for right or wrong, follow a traditional model. The bulk, majority, even all the writers were classically educated, and well-versed in rhetorical exercises. Those rhetorical exercises, when they were discussing battle or not, emphasized the sensory. Indeed, battle itself was classed as an ekphrasis, and the purpose of an ekphrasis was to bring the thing described before the eyes of the reader or listener. You could, too, extend the eyes to the mind - the reader/listener should be able to imagine what they're reading/listening to. And, while a great deal of attention is placed on the visual, some of the language is directed towards other senses, like sound. The conundrum, then, should be all too obvious. I'm looking for evidence of the sensory experience of battle. To find it I'm having to rely on, by and large, literary accounts that are, in turn, heavily dependent on classical models that emphasize the sensory. How do you separate the literary from the historical? Book 8 of the Wars and Agathias' History provide very descriptive sensory accounts of combat, which aren't dissimilar from the literary flourishes of Corippus, the epic poet, in his Iohannis. Is it possible to disentangle this material?
One last thing I want to draw attention to is the character of Smith's book, at least so far. It seems to be heavy on description, and short of analysis. Granted, the purpose seems to be to get a sense of what it was like to experience an historical event, in Smith's case the Civil War (US), based on what evidence and tools we have at our disposal. In the case of war, however, this seems to be a version of Keegan's "face of battle", which advocated approaching battle from the perspective of the common soldiers rather than the officers and generals that had featured so heavily. I am, then, struggling to see what makes this sensory history unique. Granted, I've read almost nothing, and none of it has focused on antiquity, but at this point I'm quite sceptical.
I have a growing list of items to read, one of which combines archaeology and the senses. Indeed, when I decided to give it a go, I thought about how I might find comparative evidence to support (contradict, or other) what I find in the literary accounts, and the physical evidence seemed to be a way forward. I've thought about the kinds of weapons that we're likely to be used, and what sorts of sensations they were likely to give: what do iron swords sound like when they crash together, what does it feel like when 100s or 1000s of horses come barrelling down a hill, what does it taste like to have your face in the dirt as you're trampled by your comrades in the midst of mad dash to escape? If I know something about the environment of a battle (near a city or out in the middle of nowhere), the season (what temperature might it have been, and what sort of precipitation might they have had to deal with), the time of day, the number of participants, and their constituent parts perhaps I can draw on this factual material along with some comparative evidence (the feel of 100s/1000s of horses) perhaps I can write a sensory history of sorts.
At this point, however, and to be perfectly honest I'm not sure. Indeed I might be able to pull this off, though I might also end up writing an essay that all-but-slams this approach to history. And yet, on the other hand, while my mind says yes, my heart says no (don't do it) - this has often been what I'd like to know most. What was it like to be alive and experience a particular epoch? Well, perhaps I'm finally about to find out.
Thursday, 21 January 2016
Finding Evidence for Strategic Thinking in the Age of Justinian
Besides the aforementioned Roman military textbook, I'm also working on the follow-up to book one on Procopius. The follow-up exists - something I've referred to in past blog posts - because of some of the troubles I had with that earlier project. Basically, it nearly fell off the rails completely, then I attended a conference in Oxford (2014 on Procopius), which got me back on, by which point I had already made plans to go in a different direction. The result was that the original project was rejuvenated, while the new one became a follow-up. In a nutshell, that's why it exists.
Anyway, I happen to be on sabbatical, and so I have the time to work on these two projects, and if all goes well I'll have made considerable progress by the time the period draws to a close in July. Like a lot of things, my enthusiasm waxes and wanes depending on my progress, but there is as much positive as negative, which is more than I can say about the hockey I've been watching most of the year (and am right now - mostly negative).
Today, and presumably for the next little while, one of the topics in that project that I'll be working is strategy, fortifications, frontiers and Procopius, in part because I've been (re-)reading Procopius' Buildings, with what could be considered a fine-tooth comb. A number of things are jumping out at me this time round, and one that I'll be devoting more attention to, and which I want to flag here, is his emphasis on defence. In particular, my reading of Procopius' Buildings so far seems to point towards a strong emphasis on defence in east Rome, and there is a real sense that the purpose of the fortifications was both to monitor and to prevent/check incursions of Saracens and Persians. Now, maybe this isn't all that surprising. The Buildings is on, well, buildings, and so of course he's going to talk about fortifications, and if you're talking about fortifications it seems self-evident that you'll be talking about their defensive properties, particularly based on the character of late antique fortifications. So, of course its defence, and scholars have argued in support of this defensive mentality for quite a while - Luttwak and defence-in-depth, Greatrex more recently on a longer-term defensive mentality.
Now, in this book/project, the idea is to test as often and wherever possible Procopius' views/comments/descriptions/ with other evidence, whatever shape it comes in. How do you do this, however, when your subject is strategy? Given I'm dealing with Justinian, what I'd like is his memoirs, commentarii, or some such thing that sets his foreign policy thinking. Of course, these things don't exist. Now, if I'm arguing for, or better testing for whether the strategic mentality with respect to the frontiers was defend and if I'm taking as my starting point the Buildings, there's always the Wars to compare. I could (will) take a look at all known conflicts in the east and identify who in each case is the aggressor. If you're always been attacked, then a defensive mentality would seem likely. On the other hand, it is presumably more than a little bit sketchy to check Procopius by means of Procopius. In other words, it would be easy enough for him to make sure his statements in one of those works support his statements in the other.
Thus, I'll certainly have to take a look at the other accounts we have, works like those of Count Marcellinus, Malalas, Pseudo-Joshua, Pseudo-Zachariah, and Agathias. It would be helpful to visit all known fortifications, but of course this isn't feasible (cost, political situation, etc.), so I suspect that Google Earth and assorted published excavation reports and otherwise will become my friends. On the other hand, a fort on its own can't say what a fort is doing, and that's where things get stickier. I could also take a look at Justinian's legislation - does he delve into defensive concerns at any point in his massive collection of Roman law, and if he does is it the case that this reflects a defensive strategic mentality? There's what evidence of propaganda I can find too - though would you emphasize a defensive mentality?
If I adopt the definition of strategy that I've adopted in the past (following Kagan's 2006 article), that would mean that I should look for evidence of the Roman state using its resources to pursue various foreign policy ends, and in the earlier Roman imperial situation we have all sorts of really good evidence for troop movements, dispositions, and so forth. In late antiquity, especially after about AD 400, the situation is dire. The Notitia Dignitatum is a fabulous piece of evidence, and recent research has emphasized the accuracy of the list as we have it for the east (based on examinations of the situations in Egypt and in the Caucasus). Should we really expect the list as we have it to still be applicable by the time that Procopius is writing though, nearly 150 years later? Perhaps not, or not exactly, and unfortunately we just don't have something from the sixth century that I'm aware of that provides the desired level of detail. What are we, then, to do? To be honest, I'm not sure yet, though I'll be getting to this issue soon enough.
If the defensive approach does turn out to the case at least with respect to the east, that makes for a nice contrast with the wars in Africa and Italy, so clearly offensively-minded, at least on the surface. I was wondering if these could be taken as attempts of Justinian to counter criticisms that he was too defensively-minded. If that were true, however, why not take a more offensive approach in the east rather than the west? Also, if all anyone has known for some time was a defensive approach in the east, who would really criticize a presumed-defensive mentality?
So, I anticipate a considerable amount of trouble with this topic, and more so than for some of the others that I have in mind. Only time will tell, I guess, whether I can't find some sort of resolution.
Anyway, I happen to be on sabbatical, and so I have the time to work on these two projects, and if all goes well I'll have made considerable progress by the time the period draws to a close in July. Like a lot of things, my enthusiasm waxes and wanes depending on my progress, but there is as much positive as negative, which is more than I can say about the hockey I've been watching most of the year (and am right now - mostly negative).
Today, and presumably for the next little while, one of the topics in that project that I'll be working is strategy, fortifications, frontiers and Procopius, in part because I've been (re-)reading Procopius' Buildings, with what could be considered a fine-tooth comb. A number of things are jumping out at me this time round, and one that I'll be devoting more attention to, and which I want to flag here, is his emphasis on defence. In particular, my reading of Procopius' Buildings so far seems to point towards a strong emphasis on defence in east Rome, and there is a real sense that the purpose of the fortifications was both to monitor and to prevent/check incursions of Saracens and Persians. Now, maybe this isn't all that surprising. The Buildings is on, well, buildings, and so of course he's going to talk about fortifications, and if you're talking about fortifications it seems self-evident that you'll be talking about their defensive properties, particularly based on the character of late antique fortifications. So, of course its defence, and scholars have argued in support of this defensive mentality for quite a while - Luttwak and defence-in-depth, Greatrex more recently on a longer-term defensive mentality.
Now, in this book/project, the idea is to test as often and wherever possible Procopius' views/comments/descriptions/ with other evidence, whatever shape it comes in. How do you do this, however, when your subject is strategy? Given I'm dealing with Justinian, what I'd like is his memoirs, commentarii, or some such thing that sets his foreign policy thinking. Of course, these things don't exist. Now, if I'm arguing for, or better testing for whether the strategic mentality with respect to the frontiers was defend and if I'm taking as my starting point the Buildings, there's always the Wars to compare. I could (will) take a look at all known conflicts in the east and identify who in each case is the aggressor. If you're always been attacked, then a defensive mentality would seem likely. On the other hand, it is presumably more than a little bit sketchy to check Procopius by means of Procopius. In other words, it would be easy enough for him to make sure his statements in one of those works support his statements in the other.
Thus, I'll certainly have to take a look at the other accounts we have, works like those of Count Marcellinus, Malalas, Pseudo-Joshua, Pseudo-Zachariah, and Agathias. It would be helpful to visit all known fortifications, but of course this isn't feasible (cost, political situation, etc.), so I suspect that Google Earth and assorted published excavation reports and otherwise will become my friends. On the other hand, a fort on its own can't say what a fort is doing, and that's where things get stickier. I could also take a look at Justinian's legislation - does he delve into defensive concerns at any point in his massive collection of Roman law, and if he does is it the case that this reflects a defensive strategic mentality? There's what evidence of propaganda I can find too - though would you emphasize a defensive mentality?
If I adopt the definition of strategy that I've adopted in the past (following Kagan's 2006 article), that would mean that I should look for evidence of the Roman state using its resources to pursue various foreign policy ends, and in the earlier Roman imperial situation we have all sorts of really good evidence for troop movements, dispositions, and so forth. In late antiquity, especially after about AD 400, the situation is dire. The Notitia Dignitatum is a fabulous piece of evidence, and recent research has emphasized the accuracy of the list as we have it for the east (based on examinations of the situations in Egypt and in the Caucasus). Should we really expect the list as we have it to still be applicable by the time that Procopius is writing though, nearly 150 years later? Perhaps not, or not exactly, and unfortunately we just don't have something from the sixth century that I'm aware of that provides the desired level of detail. What are we, then, to do? To be honest, I'm not sure yet, though I'll be getting to this issue soon enough.
If the defensive approach does turn out to the case at least with respect to the east, that makes for a nice contrast with the wars in Africa and Italy, so clearly offensively-minded, at least on the surface. I was wondering if these could be taken as attempts of Justinian to counter criticisms that he was too defensively-minded. If that were true, however, why not take a more offensive approach in the east rather than the west? Also, if all anyone has known for some time was a defensive approach in the east, who would really criticize a presumed-defensive mentality?
So, I anticipate a considerable amount of trouble with this topic, and more so than for some of the others that I have in mind. Only time will tell, I guess, whether I can't find some sort of resolution.
Friday, 1 August 2014
How Bad is Agathias? Experiencing War in the Sixth Century
I've been reading bits of Agathias for a chapter on women and warfare in Procopius - and really running with the thin/thick descriptions, which I had erroneously attributed to Levithan (actually found it in Petersen's massive new book on siege warfare in late antiquity, and it ultimately goes back to Geertz and anthropology). Anyway, I'm a Procopius lover, though I've had a soft spot (as one does) for Agathias too. I've engaged a little both with Agathias here and there, and have always had plans of doing more, but it's not quite worked out...perhaps soon.
Anyway, although Kaldellis has made some forceful arguments for the quality of Agathias' historical achievements, and though Syvanne is generally positive of some of his military accounts, many would place him low down the historian leaderboard. For some reasons, this might very well be a fair assessment. Given I've been looking at war, I'm wondering if it's not a little unfair. As wonderful as Procopius is, much of his descriptions are shorn of the "face of battle" style that Kagan (2006) has attributed to Ammianus (think Amida). Indeed, when Procopius bothers to mention women in accounts of warfare, his mentions are usually restricted to the inevitable (from an historiographical perspective - I'm not trying to downplay the horrors of these actions) enslaving of women and children. Now, I haven't gotten to the siege of Rome yet (537ish), and my memory is a bit rusty, so there may be more there.
Nevertheless, I read Ps.-Joshua's account and, well, as I already knew, he spends a considerable amount of time on the experience of war, particularly with respect to the siege of Edessa around 504 (is it later? - not sure off the top of my head). Good stuff, few of the classicizing topoi, and generally a vivid account of the experience of siege warfare from the perspective from those on the inside - though there's much of value in general.
Where does Agathias fit in? Well, he's next on the list, and as I've been perusing (and really only perusing) the Histories, I've been struck by the care with which he composed his accounts of warfare. I know he's a poetic historian. He does have a penchant for verbosity, and some of his descriptions are long-winded - reading about a coiling-elephant trunk and a stampede in the Greek was a painful (but pleasurable too) exercise. And yes, his lack of first-hand experience has inevitably meant that he's had to fall back on topoi, stereotypes, and the like to compose his accounts. Yet, while there is a certain consistency from account to account, there is still considerable variety, and this most superficial of readings is leaving me with the impression that his verbose and literary treatment of warfare conveys much better than Procopius does the experience of warfare. His ekphrases, then, seem to be much more effective at brining the warfare before the eyes of me, the reader. More needs to be done, but he's given me much to ponder.
Anyway, although Kaldellis has made some forceful arguments for the quality of Agathias' historical achievements, and though Syvanne is generally positive of some of his military accounts, many would place him low down the historian leaderboard. For some reasons, this might very well be a fair assessment. Given I've been looking at war, I'm wondering if it's not a little unfair. As wonderful as Procopius is, much of his descriptions are shorn of the "face of battle" style that Kagan (2006) has attributed to Ammianus (think Amida). Indeed, when Procopius bothers to mention women in accounts of warfare, his mentions are usually restricted to the inevitable (from an historiographical perspective - I'm not trying to downplay the horrors of these actions) enslaving of women and children. Now, I haven't gotten to the siege of Rome yet (537ish), and my memory is a bit rusty, so there may be more there.
Nevertheless, I read Ps.-Joshua's account and, well, as I already knew, he spends a considerable amount of time on the experience of war, particularly with respect to the siege of Edessa around 504 (is it later? - not sure off the top of my head). Good stuff, few of the classicizing topoi, and generally a vivid account of the experience of siege warfare from the perspective from those on the inside - though there's much of value in general.
Where does Agathias fit in? Well, he's next on the list, and as I've been perusing (and really only perusing) the Histories, I've been struck by the care with which he composed his accounts of warfare. I know he's a poetic historian. He does have a penchant for verbosity, and some of his descriptions are long-winded - reading about a coiling-elephant trunk and a stampede in the Greek was a painful (but pleasurable too) exercise. And yes, his lack of first-hand experience has inevitably meant that he's had to fall back on topoi, stereotypes, and the like to compose his accounts. Yet, while there is a certain consistency from account to account, there is still considerable variety, and this most superficial of readings is leaving me with the impression that his verbose and literary treatment of warfare conveys much better than Procopius does the experience of warfare. His ekphrases, then, seem to be much more effective at brining the warfare before the eyes of me, the reader. More needs to be done, but he's given me much to ponder.
Sunday, 20 January 2013
Agathias the Unloved
I've been working on a book on narrative in Procopius for some time now. I'd like to think I'm not that far off from finishing the thing, but obstacles pop up with greater frequency than I'd like. It has, at times, been an intensely frustrating experience, and for a host of reasons. Some recent feedback, for example, put a damper on the progress that I had made. At present, I've put it aside, and to prevent my motivation from slipping away in its entirety I've decided to look to the future and one of the many projects that I hope to return to in the course of this career: Agathias. It might be something of a cliche for someone whose spent time on
Procopius to turn to Agathias too - see Cameron and Kaldellis. But,
I've convinced myself that my desire to turn to Agathias has more to do
with my interest in all things late antique historiographical than with
any slavish career copying. In other words, the things that draw me to Procopius exist in Agathias too, and it's probably inevitable that I would be so drawn.
Of sixth century historians Agathias falls somewhere in the middle. He lacks the depth and descriptive force of Procopius; yet, his classicizing language and more consistently reliable narrative put him above Malalas. That is, for all intents and purposes, the communis opinio. Unlike those other historians, however, he's also an 'esteemed' poet, having written and collated a well-known collection of poetry, the Anthology. Of course, it's not the poetry that I'm interested in, though the poetry is inseparable from the history, as Agathias himself makes clear: in this regard see his comments in lines 4-11 of his preface and the papers of Kaldellis. The scope of his Histories is narrow: he describes the some of the last few years of Justinian's reign, 552-559, though he himself was writing in the last quarter of the sixth century (probably the 580s). As befits a classicizing history, his focus is on war and politics, and his short but detailed text is filled with standard history features such as a preface that highlights the work's importance and its place in the tradition; set-pieces like battles (Casilinum); speeches (comparatively few, in fact); and ethnographic excurses (the Persians), to name but a few. Yet, his religious leanings are far from clear, for some see him as a Christian, others as a pagan (as problematic that term in itself is).
There hasn't been a whole lot of work done on Agathias: one book, at least in the last few decades (1970 - Cameron), and a host of book chapters (Brodka, Treadgold, Whitby), journal articles (Alexakis, Baldwin, Cameron, Kaldellis, Whitby), and occasional notices (Syvanne) - that list is fairly representative. As I say, the scholarly opinion is mixed, though later Byzantine authors such as Leo the Deacon and John Kinnamos, to judge by the character of aspects of their own works, felt that his style, at least in some parts (battle, for example), could serve as model to be emulated.
What I would like to undertake is a book-length study of this little understood historian. The comparative brevity of his History might mitigate against such a project, though I think the detail therein is suggestive.
Do we need such a thing? The limited number of scholarly treatments is, I think, as good a justification as any. Plus, though Kaldellis - and Brodka - have made some important advances, the fact is there is the one book, and it's coming up on 45 years old. Late antique and Byzantine historians are still poorly served, particularly in relation to their classical and western medieval cousins. Justinian is one of the most important - or at least one of the most famous - historians of late antiquity, lo, antiquity in general, and Agathias details a significant part of the period of Justinian's decline - the last half (even two-thirds) of his reign. All in all, then, there are good reasons for doing this.
What would I do? That gets a bit more tricky.
I'd like to see how closely his work follows the classicizing ideal. Is he Procopius' sloppy cousin? In other words, like Theophylact - and to some degree Evagrius - after him, is he completely befuddled in his attempt to blend classical and Christian in his text? Or, does he deserve more credit? Not everyone can agree - and admittedly likely never will - on whether the classicizing style and framework was an appropriate means of describing and explaining the past in the sixth century. Still, a detailed study might go some small way towards resolution.
How closely does he adhere to the truth? Though this has attracted some attention - and I wouldn't want this to be an old-school positivistic analysis of all that he describes - a sustained study of the work in its entirety would be useful. Again, getting back to the comparative brevity of the text, this fact itself might necessitate a study that discusses as many aspects of the History and Agathias the historian as possible. Though the late antique audience had a different understanding of history from us, a good part of that understanding was adherence to the truth and so it's worth tackling.
The final aspect I want to highlight at this point is the narrative and organization of the text itself. How is it structured? What sort of chronological structure underlines the text? How does Agathias characterize key individuals in the text? Are his characterizations one-dimensional, well-rounded, or some combination of the two? If he isn't consistent, why is that? What role does the narrator play in the text? How does the organization of the text affect the view of the past that it presents, if it does so at all? Are the ways that Agathias structures the narrative tied at all to the explanations that he advocates? Hell, what attempts are there to explain what happens? Is the History mere reportage? A related - and important - issue is the influence of rhetoric. We know (or are aware of) the relationship between history and rhetoric, and that Agathias was himself a well-educated lawyer (i.e., well-versed in tools of rhetoric). So, what impact does rhetoric play in his work? Do ekphrases, and other aspects of ancient rhetorical theory underline his work?
Consequently, I think there's a great deal of scope there for a major study, and since I haven't come across anyone doing just that I'm happy to plow ahead. If you're out there, however, and you're reading this, please do get in touch!
Of sixth century historians Agathias falls somewhere in the middle. He lacks the depth and descriptive force of Procopius; yet, his classicizing language and more consistently reliable narrative put him above Malalas. That is, for all intents and purposes, the communis opinio. Unlike those other historians, however, he's also an 'esteemed' poet, having written and collated a well-known collection of poetry, the Anthology. Of course, it's not the poetry that I'm interested in, though the poetry is inseparable from the history, as Agathias himself makes clear: in this regard see his comments in lines 4-11 of his preface and the papers of Kaldellis. The scope of his Histories is narrow: he describes the some of the last few years of Justinian's reign, 552-559, though he himself was writing in the last quarter of the sixth century (probably the 580s). As befits a classicizing history, his focus is on war and politics, and his short but detailed text is filled with standard history features such as a preface that highlights the work's importance and its place in the tradition; set-pieces like battles (Casilinum); speeches (comparatively few, in fact); and ethnographic excurses (the Persians), to name but a few. Yet, his religious leanings are far from clear, for some see him as a Christian, others as a pagan (as problematic that term in itself is).
There hasn't been a whole lot of work done on Agathias: one book, at least in the last few decades (1970 - Cameron), and a host of book chapters (Brodka, Treadgold, Whitby), journal articles (Alexakis, Baldwin, Cameron, Kaldellis, Whitby), and occasional notices (Syvanne) - that list is fairly representative. As I say, the scholarly opinion is mixed, though later Byzantine authors such as Leo the Deacon and John Kinnamos, to judge by the character of aspects of their own works, felt that his style, at least in some parts (battle, for example), could serve as model to be emulated.
What I would like to undertake is a book-length study of this little understood historian. The comparative brevity of his History might mitigate against such a project, though I think the detail therein is suggestive.
Do we need such a thing? The limited number of scholarly treatments is, I think, as good a justification as any. Plus, though Kaldellis - and Brodka - have made some important advances, the fact is there is the one book, and it's coming up on 45 years old. Late antique and Byzantine historians are still poorly served, particularly in relation to their classical and western medieval cousins. Justinian is one of the most important - or at least one of the most famous - historians of late antiquity, lo, antiquity in general, and Agathias details a significant part of the period of Justinian's decline - the last half (even two-thirds) of his reign. All in all, then, there are good reasons for doing this.
What would I do? That gets a bit more tricky.
I'd like to see how closely his work follows the classicizing ideal. Is he Procopius' sloppy cousin? In other words, like Theophylact - and to some degree Evagrius - after him, is he completely befuddled in his attempt to blend classical and Christian in his text? Or, does he deserve more credit? Not everyone can agree - and admittedly likely never will - on whether the classicizing style and framework was an appropriate means of describing and explaining the past in the sixth century. Still, a detailed study might go some small way towards resolution.
How closely does he adhere to the truth? Though this has attracted some attention - and I wouldn't want this to be an old-school positivistic analysis of all that he describes - a sustained study of the work in its entirety would be useful. Again, getting back to the comparative brevity of the text, this fact itself might necessitate a study that discusses as many aspects of the History and Agathias the historian as possible. Though the late antique audience had a different understanding of history from us, a good part of that understanding was adherence to the truth and so it's worth tackling.
The final aspect I want to highlight at this point is the narrative and organization of the text itself. How is it structured? What sort of chronological structure underlines the text? How does Agathias characterize key individuals in the text? Are his characterizations one-dimensional, well-rounded, or some combination of the two? If he isn't consistent, why is that? What role does the narrator play in the text? How does the organization of the text affect the view of the past that it presents, if it does so at all? Are the ways that Agathias structures the narrative tied at all to the explanations that he advocates? Hell, what attempts are there to explain what happens? Is the History mere reportage? A related - and important - issue is the influence of rhetoric. We know (or are aware of) the relationship between history and rhetoric, and that Agathias was himself a well-educated lawyer (i.e., well-versed in tools of rhetoric). So, what impact does rhetoric play in his work? Do ekphrases, and other aspects of ancient rhetorical theory underline his work?
Consequently, I think there's a great deal of scope there for a major study, and since I haven't come across anyone doing just that I'm happy to plow ahead. If you're out there, however, and you're reading this, please do get in touch!
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