O.'s new book on the so-called Laudatio Turiae is part of a series entitled Women in Antiquity. The laudatio is a lengthy inscription that only survives in fragmentary condition and records the life of a Roman woman as related in the eulogy her husband gave at her funeral. The laudatio originally appeared in two columns and its length may be comparable to that of the Res Gestae of Augustus. The inscription offers a fascinating insight into the life of an upper-class woman during the time of civil war. It presents a unique perspective on the period of an unnamed wife and husband, rather than from that of Young Caesar, Antony or Lepidus. A prologue introduces the history of the inscription (today in the Villa Albani in Rome), from Theodor Mommsen onwards. According to O. the inscription provides a vivid picture of the stamina of a woman and of her willingness to fight the couple's enemies (p. 7). Such inscriptions of course never focus on the negative qualities of the honorand – this is a husband's story about his beloved wife. However, this is a book about so much more. The subtitle is telling for the story that O. unfolds. He has already admirably shown us the enormous impact of civil war on Roman society during the period after the murder of Caesar (Caesar's Legacy: Civil War and the Emergence of the Roman Empire [2006]). The psychological legacy of the civil war period of the Late Roman Republic was both immense and extreme.
O. unfolds the story more or less chronologically. Chapter 1 tells the story of the killing of the wife's father and stepmother, opponents of Caesar, on the eve of her wedding. O. masterly describes the historical context in support of his reading of the inscription (superior to Flach's otherwise very good German edition, Die Sogennante Laudatio Turiae [1991]). He thus succeeds in reconstructing the story of the wife, and compares it with that of other known women during the same period. This is overall the great strength of the book. Moreover, O. emphasises what is far too often forgotten when looking at the Late Republic: this is a period of great violence. Lintott in his classic study (Violence in Republican Rome [1999, 2nd ed.]) takes the view that Rome was inherently violent, and initial critique of his book suggested that he overstressed civil violence (p. xix). If anything, I would suggest that he underestimated civil violence and that scholars often underestimate the violence during civil war. The standard modern book on violence in civil war is Kalyvas’ The Logic of Violence in Civil War (2006). He challenges the conventional view of violence in civil wars as something irrational: it is generally not driven by the conflict itself, but by previous disputes and hostilities among the population. His argument echoes that of Thucydides (3.81–5, on Corcyra in 427 b.c.e.). One reason for the tendency to underestimate violence in civil war may be that it often does not take place on the battlefield, and in some conflicts there is no clearly demarked front line. Thus, much violence in civil wars simply goes unrecorded (mainly pitched battles go on record). As we are told by O., fighting neighbours and opposing warring groups with small armies was an integral part of the period and should not be overlooked (p. 16), while armed gangs roamed the countryside. As there were no male kinsmen to avenge the murdered father and stepmother, the woman acted herself. Such an independent use of power is one of the factors that make her, and her story, stand out (cf. p. 149). Significantly, O. clearly shows that the civil war was fought on more than just battlefields.
Chapter 2 discusses the fiancé and explores the situation in Rome and Italy at the beginning of the civil war between Pompey and Caesar. Many prepared to leave Italy to fight, but those left behind still potentially faced fear, violence, robbery and murder. The husband even proudly mentions that his wife defended their house (2.11a). As a supporter of Pompey he was preparing to go to the East, and she raised money to support his efforts. He was later allowed to return, due to the clementia of Caesar, and finally the couple were married. Their problems, however, were far from over. Chapter 3 concentrates on the period from the victory of Caesar to his murder, followed by the return of the civil war, including the battles of Mutina, Perusia and Philippi, as well as the proscriptions. It also considers other famous female figures of the period (Servilia and Fulvia). The husband is amongst the proscribed, but the wife successfully hides him. O. concludes that the proscriptions were motivated mainly by wealth rather than politics (p. 53), which seems overly negative. There is every reason to assume that both factors were of great importance. The husband was eventually restored as a citizen of Rome due to the clemency of Young Caesar. This, however, required the consent of Lepidus, who at least at first refused to give it. The wife was even dramatically beaten at the tribunal of Lepidus, and was forced to go down on her knees before him. Even so, she persevered. O. is rightly sceptical on this matter (p. 56), as this may be a question of discrediting Lepidus, but we cannot be certain that this did not happen precisely as the husband claims. Importantly, once again this is a story contrary to the assumed role of women at Rome (cf. Livy 34.7.8–9). However, O. correctly concludes that there was no going back and the role of women in society would change, even come peace. The conservatism of Augustus apart, Livia and the family, including children, certainly gained an unprecedented position in public life (the Ara Pacis Augustae is a prime example).
Chapter 4 considers the aftermath of civil war and the Augustan settlement (LT 2.25 echoes the ‘Augustan’ phrase pace parta terra marique; cf. RG 13, etc.). Despite the end of the war, the couple's failure to fulfil the patriotic duty of childbearing presented further challenges. The chapter also draws upon parallel evidence, in the form of the stories of Livia and Cleopatra. Chapter 5 offers an understanding on mortality and death, and Chapter 6 offers a reconstruction of a Roman funeral and that of the wife. O. fittingly concludes that the laudatio is a love poem in prose (p. 115). The final two chapters look at the inscription itself. Chapter 7 takes on the story of Turia and her husband Lucretius Vespillo. O. asks fascinating questions: how did Lucretius and others return to Roman life, having been enemies of Young Caesar? And how would they later recall the civil war? In fact, there is only one direct mention of civil war in the surviving text, in connection with Milo (2.10a). Like the Res Gestae, the laudatio focuses on the peace created by Augustus, whereas the blame is placed on (Antony and) Lepidus (p. 124). There is little doubt that the ending of the civil war dominates, but the tranquil ending can only operate as a counterbalance to the not so tranquil, that is to say, the civil war itself. Chapter 8 looks at the monument. Unlike a literary text, an inscription is always part of a monument. The chapter focuses on the new monumental culture of Augustan Rome, and the marble inscription suggests that the husband was very much aware of new practices (p. 139). Chapter 8 is followed by a brief but instructive ‘Note on Chronology’. Appendix 2 has both the Latin text and a fine up-to-date translation of the Laudatio. This makes the book invaluable for teaching purposes. This is not, however, only a book for a general audience. Its main importance, at least to this reviewer, is that it focuses upon, and gives a masterly description of, the great impact of civil war during the outgoing Late Republic and the transition from Republic to Principate. Fascinatingly, the Laudatio more than anything suggests that the civil war of the period should be viewed as one continuous war, not a series of civil wars. This inscription is a magnificent piece of evidence we cannot and should not ignore. O.'s new edition is the perfect starting point.
