No scholar of Late Antiquity can avoid the Latin chronicles. For certain events, a chronicle is our only source. But how widespread were chronicles? And how can we distinguish chronicles from consular lists, universal histories, or abbreviated compendia? B. and K. aim to answer these fundamental questions and provide an overview of the development of the genre from the first century b.c. to the sixth century a.d. They accomplish their goal with admirable clarity in this, the first of a projected four-volume work; volumes 2–4, yet to appear, will contain translations and Latin texts of the ‘most important chronographical sources in Latin for the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries ad’ (p. xi). These later volumes will aid the ‘Latinless’ with the tools to pursue further research, but (as the editors rightly note) are no replacement for using the original Latin text.
What constitutes a chronicle is essential for this survey. B. and K. offer their definition on page 22:
In contrast to history and biography, chronicles were ‘scientific’ rather than literary genres, concerned first and foremost with the orderly reporting of chronology. They almost always dealt with much larger passages of time than did narrative histories, and the ordering of that past time was their raison d’être. Consequently, with a few exceptions, chronicles recount their historical statements with extreme brevity and in plain and simple language, devoid of the style and rhetoric expected in narrative history.
The chronological framework was usually provided by ‘a continuous annual accounting of years’ (p. 22). Since the reckoning of time by annual blocks was of central importance, B. and K. propose that consular lists ‘could be considered the basic type of chronicle, or rather proto-chronicle, in the way that a list of years ad cannot, because not only did the names of the two annually elected consuls represent the date, but they also identified the two individuals who were the active military and legislative heads of the Roman state that year’ (p. 23). This definition has the virtue of consistency, as B. and K. proceed to categorise a wide range of chronicle traditions.
One topic that could have been addressed more fully is the basis for the selection of information for inclusion in any chronicle. Indeed, even the simplest of chronicles – and all are paratactic in structure – is the result of what B. and K. see as the ‘subjective’ choice of a writer. The ‘subjective’ principles of some authors are easy to discern. As B. has shown in his excellent publication, The Chronicle of Hydatius and the Consularia Constantinopolitana (1993), Hydatius chose events to signal the growing chaos that was the precursor to the end of the world. Prosper, in his 455 version of his Chronicle, ended his narrative with a discussion of Leo's conciliatory decision to compromise with the Church of Alexandria over the correct date for Easter, breaking strict chronology to highlight the role of this ‘sainted’ bishop in facing internal church conflicts. (Prosper notes the Vandal Sack of Rome in June 455 before concluding with Leo's decision about the celebration of Easter in April of that year.) Other chroniclers are less artful, but a wider discussion of their principles of inclusion and exclusion would have helped underscore the nature of the genre as practised by ancient writers.
B. and K. take issue with previous interpretations of the chronicle tradition. First, they argue what seems all too obvious to classically trained scholars: that the chronicle was not a ‘quintessentially medieval and Christian genre’ that was developed in the third century or later as distinct from earlier genres. That is simply not the case, as B. and K. demonstrate repeatedly. But, B. and K. also argue, rightly to my mind, that the chronicle should be given greater ‘respect’ by classicists and ancient historians for this genre was ‘the fundamental underpinning for all forms of developed historical writing in the West’ (p. xii). This volume should go far in making this case.
However, some of B. and K.'s arguments about the sources for chronicles remain to be demonstrated. In the foreword, B. and K. claim that it is not true that chronicles ‘depended on “city chronicles” compiled not only by the central Roman “government” but also by local city governments, who stored them in central archives and published them on stone’ (p. xii). This statement recurs in reference to the Chronographia of Malalas, which B. and K. argue was not a chronicle and was not based on city chronicles, since the latter, in their view, did not exist (p. 223 n. 83). They promise to flesh out this argument in Volume 2, but offer as auxiliary support their discussion of the sources for ancient calendars (pp. 146–50, 156–65, 168–9). Indeed, as B. and K. note, calendars often appeared with fasti and consularia ‘in the Roman and municipal fora of the early empire’ (p. 137). And they go on to argue that calendars, like these other texts, should be considered as private, not ‘official’, documents (pp. 146–8). I am not convinced by their arguments about calendars.
Calendars were, among other things, utilitarian. But based in part on variants between calendars, and in part on the fact that individual names are associated with their public display, B. and K. dismiss any ‘official’ source for the content of the calendars. This suggests that uniformity is the only way to construe ‘official’ sources. On the contrary; calendars should vary depending on the needs of the locality. Moreover, calendars displayed in temples or paid for by private donors might naturally enough reflect the wishes of their patrons. But private patronage does not mean that the content was not based on official lists, reflecting civic acknowledgment of the rites of the Roman year. Indeed, the calendars we do have include the holidays and festivals celebrated by their cities and were not filled with idiosyncratic notations or private birthdays, aside from those of the imperial family. On the contrary; there is great consistency in calendars that include the major ludi and holidays of the Roman year, from the late Republic through the early Empire. The evidence of the fragmentary Feriale Duranum from Dura-Europus, a selected list of holidays for a military attachment in the early-third century, reflects the ‘officially’ recognised holidays of the imperial family and Roman state. No one official calendar was slavishly followed without local variations. Even the Calendar of 354 is a product of mid fourth-century paganism in Rome; as I argued, it is not merely an anachronistic, aide-memoire (contra B. and K. p. 149 n. 48, citing On Roman Time: the Codex-Calendar of 354 and the Rhythms of Urban Life [1990]).
These differences in opinion should not detract from the strengths of this volume which provides a stimulating introduction to the Latin chronicle tradition that should inspire others to take up the challenge of working with these texts. B. and K. are to be praised for their clarity of presentation and their acuity in analysing this under-appreciated genre. Appendices on key concepts, such as the meaning of the word Annales and the newly published Leipzig Chronograph, are extremely useful additions for specialists in the field.
