B.'s introduction to Varro Varius, a collection of eight papers arising from a Cambridge conference in May 2011, opens with the lament that ‘Varro is a figure to whom scholarship has not yet done justice’. His collection musters several solid contributions and one outstanding essay, but an unfortunate tendency of the whole is to leave several fields of inquiry rather trampled. Happily, in another part of our Varronian estate, the judicious work of N. has cleared away the interpretative brambles choking the Res rusticae (the authentic title: L. Deschamps, REA 104 [2002], 507–11; N. retains De re rustica throughout), drained off unwholesome speculation and provided a new map of the entire property. This map shows for the first time how each part of the work is organically related to the whole, and how the whole may be read as an extended metaphor for empire, a product of Rome's emerging consciousness of a hegemony defined by geography, no longer simply raw power. In the process, N. has sown methodological seeds that should bear great fruit when transplanted to the study of other technical authors.

I begin with Varro Varius. B.'s introduction provides a rapid overview of Varro's life and major works (including their fate), while an illuminating digression traces that creature of literary fancy, the ‘Armenian tiger’ of Virgil, Propertius and Ovid, to its likely Varronian source (LL 5.100). One regrets that space could only be found for an introduction to Varro himself, and not the volume's particular contents: a sense of how the essays might help us form a more judicious appreciation of Varro, or how they might be placed in dialogue with one another and with wider trends in scholarship, is entirely lacking. Despite the non-expert audience to whom the introduction is apparently addressed, those with only a casual interest in Varro surely require more orientation. The unwary reader should note that Varro did not dedicate LL Books 1–4 to someone other than Cicero (p. 9). Books 2–4 were originally written as a separate treatise and dedicated to a certain Septumius (LL 7.109); subsequently, this treatise was incorporated into a new work of 25 volumes known as the De lingua Latina, the whole (re)dedicated to Cicero with an introductory volume added as Book 1 (K. Barwick, Philologus 101 [1957], 298–304). Moreover, we do know how Varro etymologised his name (cf. p. 10): Macr. Sat. 3.18.13 (Terentius); Serv. Auct. Aen. 11.743 (Varro); F335 Funaioli (Marcus; a likely, if conjectural, attribution).

The first three papers are grouped under the heading ‘Varro on Language’, beginning with D. Taylor's ‘The New Varro and the Structure of His De Lingua Latina’. ‘The New Varro’ might be relabelled ‘Taylor's Varro’: the picture provided here of Varro as pioneering linguistic theorist (despite our inability to compare him with the Hellenistic grammarians, all of whom are lost) is Taylor's own construct. With breathtaking confidence, Taylor proceeds to outline the contents of LL Books 14–25, vanished but for four fragments (only one of which is noted: F22 Funaioli = Gell. 16.8). These are generally supposed to have dealt with syntax, which Taylor here identifies with Stoic propositional logic (despite our ignorance of the Hellenistic tradition), suggesting in consequence that Varro wrote a truly comprehensive philosophical treatment, beginning from the basics of sound and signification, and proceeding though each and every form of logical proposition. It is troubling, therefore, that one of our few pieces of hard evidence, the extensive fragment noted above, implies that the major logical concept underpinning this reconstruction (axiomaton, profatum, proloquium: ‘proposition’) was only introduced in Varro's penultimate volume. A new binary structure for the LL is also proposed, despite explicit acknowledgement that Varro uniformly conceptualised his treatise as a work in three parts. Taylor acknowledges that he is being ‘purposefully controversial’.

A. Gitner's paper marks a truly important contribution not only to the study of Varro, but to ancient thought in general. Through careful deconstruction of the scholarly tradition, and judicious sifting of the evidence, he demonstrates conclusively that ‘Aeolism’ (the claim supposedly made by Varro and others that Latin was a dialect of Greek) is a figment of the academic imagination. He provides, moreover, a convincing explanation for what was really at stake when Varro sought comparisons for Latin in Aeolic: he subscribed to the notion that linguistic development (in non-barbarian languages) was rationally governed, and thus that independent ‘civilized’ languages could develop along similar lines. This paper deserves to be widely read.

G. Piras next provides a useful survey of Varro's approach to poetry and citational practice, above all in LL Book 7, with potentially significant insights for future editors of fragmentary material (though the question of Varro's reliability as a quoting author is not specifically addressed). The influence exercised by earlier grammarians and commentary traditions over Varro's citations is placed in the foreground, and helps to clarify what was distinctive about Varro's approach to this material.

The second triad of papers is found under the misleading heading of ‘Varro on Rome’. Opening, D. Spencer undertakes a narratological reading of selections from the LL, a game of word association that ranges far and wide across Varro's treatise, but whose rules are left unstated. The results are certainly curious, but I worry that Varro would be puzzled to recognise his own work behind this presentation.

A more traditional study is provided by T.P. Wiseman's investigation of the concept of Roma quadrata, ‘Square Rome’ (Solin. 1.17), providing several neat explanations of its meaning and significance. Whether this paper strictly belongs in this volume, however, is open to question. The phrase is not definitively attributed to Varro, and the context in which it is found suggests reliance on a source of Augustan date or later:

Printing Solin. 1.1–31 in translation, Wiseman notes numerous correspondences with Varro (or authors reliant upon him), concluding that the ‘whole treatment is based on’ Varro, with insertions made from other sources (p. 100). This has long been recognised (see, e.g., Mommsen's 1895 ed.; H.A. Sanders, AJPh 23 [1902], 42–4), but so has Solinus’ reliance on an early-imperial intermediary for his Varroniana (Mommsen's ‘Ignotus’; for potential candidates, see FRHist I: 123). Wiseman raises the issue of how faithfully Solinus retained Varro's wording, implying that he contemplates direct use, but does not query the troubling citation of Varro's name at this point only: why does Solinus break the pattern and cite Varro at all, if using him first-hand? As for the relationship between Roma quadrata and the material certainly ascribed to Varro, there is no necessary syntactical or topical connection, and if one removes the unnecessary full-stop separating gloss from geographical explanation (replace the first colon with a comma, the full-stop with a colon, uel sim.), then both parts of the explanation of Roma quadrata are again organically linked. Mention of the area Apollinis dates the whole notice to the Augustan period or later. The Temple of Apollo (the toponym can only have arisen subsequently) was dedicated in the same year as Varro's death (cf. p. 100), which Jerome places squarely in 28, not 28/7 b.c. (Ol. 188.1 = a.A. 1899; the confusion arises because Jerome's synchronous system required him to date new Olympiads from 1 January, not the summer). As for speculation regarding the astrological significance of Roma quadrata (pp. 117–20), one should note that Tarrutius placed the foundation of Rome in Libra on Varro's instructions (Plut. Rom. 12.4). Grafton and Swerlow (CQ 35 [1985], 454–65) certainly show that Tarrutius’ Egyptian date for Rome's foundation (Plut. Rom. 12.5–6) cannot have corresponded in 753 b.c. to the festival of Parilia (Varro's favoured foundation date), but the possibility is not entertained that Tarrutius, in converting dates from the pre-Julian calendar, simply got his calculations wrong. We know Tarrutius certainly thought his date corresponded with the Parilia (Cic. Div. 2.98). Solinus gives the sign as Taurus (1.18), which can hardly be explained as Varro's own adjustment, further problematising the notion that he provides an accurate impression of what Varro once wrote. Varro had no monopoly on antiquarian trivia; whether he used the concept of Roma quadrata must remain unanswered.

The third paper is Y. Lehmann's ‘Varro the Roman Philosopher’, an overview of Varro's ‘personal faith’ and philosophical inspiration (as the title suggests, this is a rough epitome of his 1997 Latomus volume, Varron théologien et philosophe romain). Apart from Lehmann's own works, the most recent scholarship cited is P. Flobert's 1985 edition of LL Book 6. Despite the confident claims at p. 134, note that the only fact known about the De principiis numerorum is its title (Hieron. Ep. 33): the material supposedly attributed to this work in Gell. 1.20.6 is given under a nominal reference only. Apparently unread in antiquity (was it destroyed with Varro's library in the proscriptions? Cf. Gell. 3.10.17), works on similar themes certainly did circulate, for example: Atticus de numeris; De geometria. The latter is a good fit for the contents of the fragment and the prompting of Gellius’ chapter title: quid geometrae dicant ἐπίπεδον, though it may be more prudent to leave this passage among the fragmenta ex incertis libris.

The concluding section, ‘Varro's Afterlife’, contains a handy (though necessarily compressed) survey of Varro's late-antique reception from the learned pen of L. Holford-Strevens, whose notes on Aulus Gellius, an important witness to our author, will be of special value to all those interested in Varro's Nachleben.

The final paper advertises a forthcoming edition of the Res rusticae by R. Rogers, with a review of modern editorial work and discussion of difficulties presented by two passages: RR 1.2.1–7, 1.11.1–12.4 (on p. 171, read 1.2.3–4 for 1.1.1–4). On the basis of these notes, his work should be eagerly anticipated.

Particularly praiseworthy, the volume is accompanied by indices locorum nominumque.

From this uneven collection, we pass to N.'s volume. Through a series of close readings of the Res rusticae contextualised against the ‘cultural and historical backdrop of the late republic’, this work argues that Varro's treatise functions as a sustained work of political philosophy, not only a charming bluffer's guide to farming for the Roman estate-owning classes. While other scholars have remarked upon elements of political theorising in Varro's RR, attention has hitherto concentrated upon the birds and bees of Book 3, the favoured hunting ground for signs of anti-Augustan bias or Menippean contamination (see C. Green, AJPh 118 [1997], 427–48; L. Kronenberg, Allegories of Farming [2009]). Moving beyond such limited perspectives, N. convincingly demonstrates that a concern for political philosophy permeates the whole work, and that the plan of the whole instantiates a new model of imperium. Inevitably, some of these exercises in close reading are more successful than others, but even the work's odd weaknesses show what a wealth of material still awaits exploration. The overall thesis is compelling, and some observations have the potential to alter our understanding of the text and its intellectual context profoundly.

Chapter 1 argues for a new reading of the RR that takes account of the work's philosophical, satirical and technical aspects, and investigates the role played by dialogue (the philosopher's genre of choice) in elevating the RR above a mere handbook. Contrasts between the staging and casts of Cicero's philosophical treatises and Varro's own work are acutely observed: the former prefers country-houses, great men and private otium, the latter urban settings, the minor elite and chance encounters during the business day. If Varro has anything important to say (certainly signalled by the adoption of the dialogic form), this will have more bearing on the everyday social and political life of the city than Cicero's rarefied abstractions.

Chapter 2, ‘Creating the Agronomical Field of res rusticae’, shows that far from writing a traditional work on a traditional subject, Varro uses the opening dialogue (RR 1.2.1–28) to theorise and delineate ‘a new, abstract, and “scientific” field’ of study (p. 33). Dismissing Greek prolixity and mocking the Roman tradition's lack of focus, the knock-about conversation at the book's beginning actively defines a novel ars of agri cultura. Incidentally, a new explanation is provided for the whereabouts of the ‘missing’ list of Roman sources promised at RR 1.1.7: far from a lapse of editing, the opening discussion, an extensive review of Cato and the Sasernae, is actually built around it. Useful remarks are also made about Varronian taxonomies and the date and significance of the phrase agri cultura itself.

Chapter 3 teases out the many-layered Italian resonances of the Temple of Tellus, the setting given to Varro's first dialogue, and explores possible ways of interpreting the murder whose announcement concludes Book 1. The sacristan slain perperam need not have succumbed to a case of mistaken identity, but a ‘lapse of moral judgement’, and thus stand as a cypher for all victims of the Republic (including Cicero and Caesar). The bulk of the chapter provides a painstaking study of the ways in which Book 1 constructs Italy not only as an exemplary locus for agriculture, but also as a single geo-political unit: Rome's own fundus. The concluding murder may thus emphasise that the political (and agrarian) harmony of the peninsula is now at the mercy of affairs in Rome.

Chapters 4 and 5 are devoted to Book 2, unpacking the significance of its provincial setting in Epirus during Pompey's pirate campaign of 67 b.c., topical given the book's putative publication in the midst of Octavian's preparations for the war against Pompey's son-turned-pirate Sextus. A sensitive cross-reading of the inverted cast of pastoral characters found in the Eclogues (appealing to ‘intertext’ as a means of avoiding problems of relative chronology) deepens our appreciation of the ideological stances of both works. Varro and his interlocutors, configured through their military commands as ‘herders of men’, are found to play out pastoral scenes in the provinces, Rome's new pastures.

Chapter 6, devoted to Book 3, stresses the original contribution Varro made to technical literature by treating pastio uillatica as a subject for intellectual inquiry. Aviaries and bees offer allegories of the state and subjects for practical instruction, but are flawed as political models. The indulgence of the elite in such luxuries is morally questionable, though partially redeemed by producing wealth. The staging of this dialogue in the Villa Publica completes Varro's model, with Rome as the estate/imperial centre, surrounded by the fundus of Italy, and served by the pastures of its provinces.

Chapter 7 investigates the significance of Varro's novel model of imperium as praedium, reviewing competing theories and providing thoughts on the potential role played by Varro in the ideological transformation of Rome into the ‘territorial’ state of the Principate.

One quibble: N. consistently places the dedication of the RR in 37 b.c., a point of some significance given the importance assumed in his treatment by Octavian's impending campaign against Sex. Pompeius (launched July 36 b.c.). Varro was in his eightieth year when he wrote the preface (i.e. 79 years old: for Varro's use of ordinals, cf. RR 2.6.4). His birth is usually placed in 116 b.c. (Hieron. Chron. a.A. 1901), and Jerome describes him as prope nonagenarius when he died in 28 b.c. (so the best MSS), apparently when 88 years old. Jerome relied entirely on his source (Suetonius), who need only have given Varro's year of death and approximate age, nothing besides. If Varro was actually 89 in 28 b.c., he will have been born in 117 b.c., and the RR dedicated in 38 b.c. Jerome occasionally makes such mistakes (see R.W. Burgess, AHB 16 [2002], 1–32, also in favour of antedating Varro's birth by a year).

Varro's big idea is N.'s big discovery. His volume, in providing a new way of reading ancient technical works that treats their literary pretentions as a constructive counterpart to the technical content, rather than a distracting flourish, also deserves to be read by the non-specialist. The book is accompanied by lavish appendices (all citations and geographical references in the RR), and a full index locorum.