This volume continues the flourishing trend of studies on the history of emotions with a collaborative volume that explores the role of emotions in non-contemporary warfare. It features solid methodological guidelines, clearly delineated in the introduction and consistently followed by all authors. Rejecting the low-key universalist approach of earlier works (e.g. J. Shay, Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character [1994]), Quaas and Raum acknowledge the challenges of discussing emotions in other cultural contexts and through media such as literary works. To preserve its methodological rigour, the volume examines the performative dimension of emotional displays in specific historical contexts and their role as a literary device. This approach is not necessarily innovative per se, but it has rarely been applied to military history and, in particular, the study of ancient warfare. The book thus paves the way for further analysis.
The scope of the work is extremely broad. The case studies span from the eighth century bce to the nineteenth century ce, covering a plurality of cultural contexts. Only four chapters discuss ancient history, one of which focuses on the Neo-Assyrian kingdom.
The first part of the volume explores how emotional displays and practices are used to characterise combat and combatants. I. Künzer argues that Xenophon was keenly aware of the potential of fear in warfare, suggesting that acts of extreme violence were purposely planned to deter the enemy’s retaliation. Künzer also notes a discrepancy between the definitions of fear in Xenophon and in his contemporaries. Xenophon emphasises the role of external elements and causes in his view of fear, stressing in particular the feeling of hopelessness rather than the effective danger of an imminent threat. This is an interesting reading, which highlights that emotions might not necessarily always be seen in the same way, even in the same culture.
D. Richter examines how emotions are depicted in the work of Colonel Robert Munro, a Calvinist officer serving under Gustav Adolf in the Thirty Years’ War. The paper demonstrates how Munro mentions fear to characterise soldiers in a moral sense. This is convincingly linked to the contemporary aristocratic ēthos, which exalted bravery, military competence and command over emotions. The rare exceptions are justified by their reframing in terms of prudence and the author’s attempts to sound realistic to his original audience, who were used to the contemporary bravado of junior officers.
C. Kecht applies M. Clauss’ narratological model to Ammianus Marcellinus’ description of the siege of Amida (359 ce), showing how emotions work as a literary device to shape readers’ responses rather than merely to explain actions. Ammianus carefully stages moments of terror and alternates perspectives through sensory detail and metaphor to remark upon key points of his agenda and entice the reader. Kecht also underscores Ammianus’ reliance on literary models. The reliance on ethnic stereotypes and tropes corroborates this reading, but the textual parallel proposed with the Iliad could be justified through a more thorough comparison of language, defining details and narrative sequence.
O. Ermakov assesses how emotions such as anger, fear and indignation functioned both as catalysts for radicalisation and as tools for discipline and cohesion in the battle of Zorndorf (1758 ce). Frederick II exploited the indignation over the Cossacks’ savage raiding to order that no quarter be given to the Russians. Although this is presented as Frederick’s emotional reaction as well, Ermakov suggests the underlying reason was strategic. More interestingly, the battle is given as an example of how emotions could be instrumentalised, to some extent, for radicalising violence. The analysis concludes with a cursory discussion of how acoustic, visual and ritual practices could serve as means of emotional regulation. The chapter pushes the methodological boundaries of the work to discuss commanders’ awareness and exploitation of emotions and emotional displays in a battle context. This line of enquiry seems extremely promising, but obviously works better in discussing the eighteenth century because of a richer and more detailed pool of evidence.
T. Carbonnot discusses how Tacitus used pudor in accounting for the role of legio XVI in the Batavian revolt (70 ce) to make a strong impression on the readers, but also to highlight, more generally, the decadence of Roman values. Particularly noteworthy are the representations of the other legionaries as empathetic towards their ashamed comrades, but also that Cerialis’ reliance on pudor is ineffective because the soldiers had already lost their honour. This example shows the substantial limitations of a conscious exploitation of emotion (cf. Xen. Cyr. 5.3.46–50; and e.g. M.H. Hansen, Historia 42 [1993], 161–80), a field deserving more attention.
The second part of the volume collects examples of how emotions and their display are exploited to characterise idealised representations, but also of their connection to the systems of values and beliefs, especially religious, in specific cultures. F. Müller focuses on the Neo-Assyrian kingdoms of Tiglath-Pileser III (744–727 bce) and Assurbanipal (668–631). The chapter discusses how fear and panic are consistently associated with the most serious threats to the Assyrian kings, suggesting that it was a conscious attempt to delegitimise them not in the eyes of foreign ambassadors, but in those of the Assyrian elites. References to fear, panic and the madness of the enemy leaders are used to disgrace the enemy and, by comparison, exalt the figure of the Assyrian kings, who are presented in heroic terms.
A. Foerster’s study of early medieval battle narratives investigates how the attribution of emotions serves to legitimise or delegitimise warring parties. Focusing on Carolingian and Ottonian historiography, the chapter argues that emotional restraint marks the righteous Christian ruler. Displays of emotions delegitimised the combatants, showing a lack of ‘true’ faith.
C. Bröker showcases how thirteenth-century English historiography uses emotional displays to characterise historical characters negatively. This is particularly evident in the description of King John in Matthew Paris’ work, where he is presented as a tyrant through his lack of self-control. However, emotional displays – gestures in particular – are not used to distinguish specific individuals tout court, but are based on the circumstances; emotional language shifts to the English barons when they realise the mistake of involving the French.
M. Ventur focuses on the representation of Charlemagne in the twelfth-century Rolandslied. Once again, a strong connection between emotional display and faith is central in the work; Charlemagne expresses his distress at the death of Roland, which was seen as unbecoming and denoting a lack of trust in the Christian God. Aside from the display of desperation and rage, the king enters a state of paralysis at the sight of Roland’s lifeless body. Ventur interprets this imagery through the modern concept of trauma, suggesting that revenge and God’s grace allow its overcoming. The religious imagery corroborates Ventur’s reading and draws interesting commonalities with Foerster’s chapter. One wonders, though, if it is necessary to rely on the modern concept of trauma for this compelling analysis or whether categories and patterns existing at the time would have sufficed.
C. Trautmann studies references to emotions and warfare in Erasmus’ Adagia. The chapter seems less focused on the specific work and more on an overall reflection on Erasmus’ characterisation of emotions as irrational and the ramification of this belief in framing warfare.
M. Graff explores references to war in poetry diachronically, highlighting four key emotions: contempt, anger/indignation, grief/melancholy and disgust. The adoption of R. Zymner’s definition of ‘function’ frames the (political) purpose behind the poetic product. This angle brings Graff to recognise the importance of emotions and emotionalisation as a fruitful category to analyse poetry and, in particular, war poetry.
This selection of methodologically sound case studies on the display of emotions in non-contemporary warfare and their literary reception is of considerable interest to anyone working in the field of the history of emotions. It offers many examples of good practice, showcasing a plurality of viable methodological approaches, and demonstrates the potential of the military argument to discuss ancient emotions and their representations. The value of this comparison of culturally defined case studies offers an important platform to consider the methodological challenges of specific contexts, but also to be inspired by different fields to find the best approaches to pursue the study of emotions in warfare.
An attempt to discuss recurrent patterns and characteristics more explicitly would have added further value to the work. The introduction identifies some recurrent characteristics as significant: how emotional displays mark key moments of combat, their performance as culturally meaningful on the battlefield, and the exploitation of emotions and their display as a literary device to hook readers, motivate characters’ actions and emphasise points essential to the authors’ agendas. These emerge in the case studies, but they are not discussed organically. The thematic division of the chapters into two parts helps in the comparison, but only to an extent. The responsibility of drawing conclusions on the similarities and differences emerging from the case studies ultimately falls on readers. A proper synthesis would have provided an opportunity to highlight the obvious technical and tactical differences in combat over time and to discuss other interesting characteristics of the treatment of emotions in relation to war, such as the link between emotions and religion and the degree of conscious exploitation of emotions in the field.
The volume is an interesting addition to a field in great need of further development: the study of the emotional aspects of ancient warfare. The promising holistic scope, in my opinion, is an added value; exposure to discussions of experiences and approaches across different historical periods could be inspiring for the reading of ancient evidence.
