This chapter takes the history of literary history beyond the confines of the classical period, and past the formal parameters of prose. Its focus is Philostratus’ depiction of the Second Sophistic, one of most instrumental and contentious ancient models of epoch-making. The Second Sophistic is conventionally considered a world of prose. I make the case for the central role of poetry in Philostratus’ conception of its literary identity. After some preliminary remarks on the complex construct of the Second Sophistic as a cultural phenomenon, and the undoubtable but controversial role of Philostratus at the centre of it, I offer a close reading of the multiple moments of poetry within the Vitae Sophistarum, which shed new light on Philostratus’ approach to the textuality and temporality of this milieu. The chapter ends by discussing the Heroicus, which contains Philostratus’ most elaborate verse compositions, and sees the voices of ancient poets resurrected into new sophistic poetry. This close encounter with Philostratean verse reveals an active and experimental approach to the poetic tradition which treats canonical verse texts as both bounded and closed, and inherently unfinished, and where the lines between old and new, verse and prose, exegesis and literature are interrogated and undermined.

The Lives of the Sophists, written by the third-century-CE author Philostratus, contains the most detailed and thorough image of a Classical-period sophistic age surviving from antiquity. Previous ancient accounts of the period are comparable with that of Philostratus in various respects but never emphasize a discrete sophistic age. Philostratus’ text has been known continuously since its production, and the individual members of Philostratus’ First Sophistic were arguably the core for modern lists of the individual Sophists. Yet Philostratus’ image of the First Sophistic is colored by oratorical practices of his own day, privileging the craft of speaking performance, networks of influence and rivalry, and leadership of the city over the kind of intellectual performances that interested philosophers such as Plato. Despite his obvious departures from Plato, Philostratus also depends on Plato for qualities that establish a “Sophist” under his concept, both in the Classical period and in his own.

The Introduction situates Plutarch in his literary context, as a vivid and original thinker and writer whose popularity remains enormous, as well as his historical context as an innovator in the writing of biography. Some authors discuss Plutarch’s role in the development of the biographical tradition and his relationship to the classical Greek past. Others examine his Roman context as a Greek living in an occupied country, and his views on politics, particularly those involving barbarians or "others." Multiple essays illuminate Plutarch’s relationship to Plato and Platonism, often in the context of his influence on education, while other essays look at Plutarch in his everyday life, investigating his thoughts on gender, sexuality, wealth, and animals. Five essays focus on reception.

In this chapter, I explore the aesthetic and cultural appeal of imperial Greek declamations that stage scenes of resistance, focussing on Polemo’s two declamations on the Battle of Marathon. I argue that in an era when ‘spectacular resistance’ (steadfast and ultimately in some sense triumphant resistance to oppression) was in vogue, as seen in the careers of figures such as Peregrinus the Cynic, Apollonius of Tyana, and early Christian martyrs, such declamations allowed elites to enjoy some of the glamour and rhetorical possibilities that spectacular resistance normally offered only to the powerless; there is a parallel here with the great play that Aelius Aristides and Polemo made of their struggles with illness. In particular, these declamations offered opportunities to indulge in the exuberant ‘Asian’ rhetorical style very fashionable at the time; moreover, artistic (rather than real) resistance allowed for the selection, full narration, and endless replay of the most attractive scenes. Finally, I suggest that the ‘controversial’ nature of the genre, in which counterarguments are always implied, and, in the case of Polemo’s duelling declamations, actually present, allowed Polemo simultaneously to present himself as in some degree superior to the trope of spectacular resistance.

The Introduction discusses paideia (culture of Greek intellectuals) and its relevance for fourth-century clergy by providing a background to the Cappadocian Fathers. The chapter defines the meaning of "classical masculinity" for this study and places its treatment of gender into the broader scholarship on late antiquity and Christianity. The chapter outlines key concepts such as aretē (manly virtue), agathos (superior person), and asceticism (self-denial), and introduces agōn (contest or struggle) as the concept around which the book is organized. It also directs the reader to consider the Second Sophistic as the antecedent to the fourth-century culture of epistolary exhibitions. The chapter explains the differences in the Cappadocians’ use of genre and the distinguishing features of epistolography and hagiographic biography. And the Introduction explores identity theory and its usefulness for investigating gender and Christianity.

Chapter 1 treats the epistolary discourse of the Cappadocians as a simulation of agōn (contest) and as a locus for conspicuous display of aretē (manly virtue). It demonstrates that the Cappadocians staged literary exchanges as athletic and military ventures, enabling them to moderate a discourse on masculinity and to publicize the manhood of themselves and their addressees. The chapter explores how this culture of epistolary exhibition was rooted in the androcentric culture of paideia (education for elite males) and predicated on an ethos of competitive display similar to Second Sophistic oratory. The Cappadocians framed letter writing among intellectuals as an exercise in extreme exertion, one that promoted moral excellence. Unlike portrayals of verbal duels among orators, where winners and losers resulted in a zero-sum outcome, in letter exchanges the Cappadocians promoted character formation for both author and recipient.In orchestrating these exercises in character formation, the Cappadocians cut across religious lines and established themselves as moderators of late-fourth century masculinity.

In Chapter 5, Lucian (c. second century CE) presents a complicated model of difference that relies unevenly on skin color, attire, and language as determinants of identity. His trio of Scythian satires features characters who rework the relationships between race and identity within their specific contexts. The categories of “Greek” and “foreigner” become muddled as Greeks and Scythians share their impressions about black people in their midst: Greeks conflate blackness with Aithiopians or liken it to their own appearance with ease, while one Scythian man marvels at the sight of black Athenian athletes. These varied observations lead to a collective questioning of blackness in relation to Greek identity under the guise of humor.

This chapter examines the culture of Homeric reception in the late Hellenistic period through the vehicle of one fascinating, important and under-considered text: the third Sibylline Oracle – a largely Jewish work which contains a fiery attack against Homer, where the Sibyl accuses him of lying about the Trojan war and stealing her verses and metre. After setting this passage in the wider context of local and cosmopolitan traditions concerning both the Sibyl and Homer’s constructed identities, I then use close reading to argue that the critique contained within the Sibyl’s anti-Homeric rant (much more sustained, erudite and witty than the scholarship has previously allowed) has much in common with both Hellenistic and imperial modes of Homeric response: it blends elements familiar from earlier Alexandrian exegesis and later Second Sophistic revisionism. Read in this way, the passage stands as a remarkable witness to the shared concerns and reading practices across different ‘periods’ (Hellenistic and imperial), genres (poetry and prose) and religious cultures (pagan and Jewish) during this pivotal time.

This chapter maps out some key themes and questions for the volume as a whole. Studies of late Hellenistic Greek literature have tended to focus narrowly on individual texts and authors. The goal of this volume is to generate a set of new readings that do justice to the intertextual richness of the writings of this period. The introduction also aims to move beyond rigid accounts of the start and end-points of the ‘Hellenistic period', bringing late Hellenistic literature into dialogue with its later imperial equivalents in ways which draw attention to both the similarities and the differences between them.

Because he stages the contest between the views he endorses and Christianity as a major battle of cultures, Celsus’ mode of discourse shows significant similarities with the register commonly attributed to the Second Sophistic. For the same reason his identity as a philosopher emerges only in the course of Origen’s rebuttal.

This paper considers the use which both Celsus and Origen made of the Homeric poems and of the prior tradition of interpretative and grammatical exegesis of those poems. The paper sets the exploitation of Homer by Celsus and Origen against the background of the leading role which Homer played in the culture of the so-called Second Sophistic.

Clement of Alexandria’s Stromateis have long been recognised as a Christian version of the Greco-Roman genre of the miscellany. But how Clement shaped the Classical literary form for Christian formation deserves closer attention. In general, Classicists have studied miscellanies but not Clement, while Theologians have studied Clement but not miscellanies. By situating Clement's literary project in relation to Roman miscellanies, this book argues that Clement consistently reinterprets topoi and tropes of the Classical form through a Christian theological vision. His Christianisation of the genre is deeper and more interesting than has been recognised, as he seeks to enable his readers at once to delight in the variegated beauty of God and to become ever more focused on the contemplation of the one, hidden and transcendent Teacher, into whose likeness they are growing.

Despite the rapid growth of interest in Classical miscellanies since the 1990s, Clement of Alexandria's miscellanistic form has been consistently sidelined on account of his alleged ‘Christian difference’. But every miscellany is different from every other, and a Christian miscellany is not more thoroughly different just for being Christian. By casting an eye over the history of scholarship, we discover that the trope of ‘Christian difference’ marks the fracturing of relations between Theology and other intellectual disciplines since the nineteenth century. It resonates with anti-Christian stereotypes, which portray Christians as boring and authoritarian users of texts, by contrast with open-minded and playful pagans. In revisiting the nature and extent of Clement’s Christian ‘difference’, we should strive to achieve the Classicist’s eye for literary wit but the Theologian’s sensitivity to theological debate and to integrate the two in studying Clement's experiment with the Classical genre.

This chapter provides an examination of an ideal shared across languages and cultures in the second century: the ideal of the ‘deliberate speaker’, who aims to reflect time, thought, and study in his speech, and who draws attention to his words quawords. Articulate and educated speech becomes a vital tool for creating and defending in-groups in this period. By contrast, orators and authors in both Latin and Greek condemn their opponents as producing mere noise. The ideal of the deliberate speaker is explored through the works of two very different contemporaries: the African-born Roman orator Fronto and the Syrian Christian apologist Tatian. Despite moving in very different circles, Fronto and Tatian both express their identity and authority through an expertise in words, in strikingly similar ways. The chapter ends with a call for scholars of the Roman Empire to create categories of analysis that move across different cultural and linguistic groups. If we do not, we risk merely replicating the parochialism and insularity of our sources.