Intellectual history and lexicography are related to each other in multiple ways. Intellectual historians study dictionary entries as documents of the thought – for instance, the political thought – of the past. They may also attend to broader questions of dictionary structure: how did a given lexicographer think about taxonomy? Sometimes lexicographers themselves construct dictionaries as contributions to intellectual history. And the history of dictionaries is part of the history of intellectual institutions (publishing houses, universities and academies, religious bodies, and so on), which have regularly determined the scale, the metalanguage, the degree of encyclopedic content, and the relationship to canons of literature, of the lexicographical work which they sponsored. These points have very wide-ranging implications: dictionaries ultimately belong to a global intellectual history.

This chapter provides an introduction to mediaeval Latin. After demonstrating the impossibility of providing any sort of meaningful survey of so extensive, varied and underexplored a literary field, I model two different ways of approaching the subject. One is through microhistory, where one looks at texts with certain generic, formal or geographic characteristics in a diachronic fashion from their classical ancestors to their Renaissance progeny always keeping in view contiguous material in other genres and in languages other than Latin. The other is the history of style, where one looks synchronically at texts produced in widely different regions and in different generic categories to obtain a broader vista of the way Latin as a literary language changed over time. One way to do this is to look at mannerism, or deliberate obscurity of style for rhetorical effect, as a persistent feature of Latin literature from late antiquity on, in a dialectic with classicism on the one hand, and biblical simplicity on the other. This leads to a revisionist view of the earliest stages of humanistic poetry in Trecento Italy, as growing organically from pre-existing mediaeval stylistic canons.

This chapter traces the way that questions of authorship and authenticity have shaped scholarly reception of Ephrem the Syrian (d. 373 CE). Faced with an unreliable biographical tradition, and a poetic corpus in which the boundaries between the authentic and inauthentic blurred, scholars have constructed a history, a chronology, and a notion of literary genius and consequent decline to map this corpus. I suggest that such a focus has often rested on questionable assumptions about the context of the poetry and has been pursued at the expense of other modes of organising this corpus. Within the context of this volume, I use the case of the reception of Ephrem to ask how our own histories of scholarship have shaped, and at times even determined, the patterns we see in the literature we study, and the models we build to organise the past.

This introductory chapter presents the book’s themes and contents, taking up the topic of how we define the Roman Middle Republican period. While the periodization to which “Middle” Republic pertains is wholly modern, the essays in this book argue for a discrete unit of historical inquiry. Our “Middle Republican” period was transformative for the societies of Rome and Italy, while its full dynamism is best captured through an expansive and capacious approach embodied by this collection of chapters.

This chapter explores how the local dimension of ancient Greek religion has featured in Classical scholarship. Kindt argues that the problem of location is intrinsic to the structure of ancient Greek religion, which, in the absence of traditional locations of authority, had multiple centres and peripheries. The way in which the Greeks conceived of the personalities of the gods and goddesses is a case in point: the idea of a unified existence as implied in the concept of the divine persona is challenged by the multiplicity of ways in which one and the same deity manifested itself in the human world. Three different ways in which Classical scholars have conceived of the categories of the local in relation to the Greek divine persona come into the picture here: as a realisation of the general, as the place at which variation occurs, and as two dynamic forces that variously intersect in different locations at which ancient Greek religion manifests itself.

This chapter explores how the local dimension of ancient Greek religion has featured in Classical scholarship. Kindt argues that the problem of location is intrinsic to the structure of ancient Greek religion, which, in the absence of traditional locations of authority, had multiple centres and peripheries. The way in which the Greeks conceived of the personalities of the gods and goddesses is a case in point: the idea of a unified existence as implied in the concept of the divine persona is challenged by the multiplicity of ways in which one and the same deity manifested itself in the human world. Three different ways in which Classical scholars have conceived of the categories of the local in relation to the Greek divine persona come into the picture here: as a realisation of the general, as the place at which variation occurs, and as two dynamic forces that variously intersect in different locations at which ancient Greek religion manifests itself.

Reference in the Linear B record to deities of the later pantheon, for instance Poseidon, Zeus, and Hera, among others, vividly attests to the Mycenaean pedigree of Greek religion. This chapter suggests that the resonance with local place, so foundational a characteristic of Hellenic belief in later times, also derived from Mycenaean origins. To this end, Susan Lupack decodes the complicated helix of Minoan and Mycenaean religion, illustrating that Mycenaean religion evolved through appropriations from the Minoans. The artefacts retrieved from the tomb of the Griffin Warrior in Pylos showcase the creative Minoan–Mycenaean mix. Tracing the movement of Mycenaean peoples to Crete, the linguistic examination of the famous Room of the Chariot-Tablets from Knossos demonstrates how the first wave of arrivals predominantly practised the religion they had brought with them from their mainland homes. A second assemblage from Knossos from only ca. sixty years later shows that the Mycenaeans now not only made an effort to worship Minoan deities, but also lent a new guise to their gods and goddesses, relating them to, and embedding them in, the land of the Minoans.

Reference in the Linear B record to deities of the later pantheon, for instance Poseidon, Zeus, and Hera, among others, vividly attests to the Mycenaean pedigree of Greek religion. This chapter suggests that the resonance with local place, so foundational a characteristic of Hellenic belief in later times, also derived from Mycenaean origins. To this end, Susan Lupack decodes the complicated helix of Minoan and Mycenaean religion, illustrating that Mycenaean religion evolved through appropriations from the Minoans. The artefacts retrieved from the tomb of the Griffin Warrior in Pylos showcase the creative Minoan–Mycenaean mix. Tracing the movement of Mycenaean peoples to Crete, the linguistic examination of the famous Room of the Chariot-Tablets from Knossos demonstrates how the first wave of arrivals predominantly practised the religion they had brought with them from their mainland homes. A second assemblage from Knossos from only ca. sixty years later shows that the Mycenaeans now not only made an effort to worship Minoan deities, but also lent a new guise to their gods and goddesses, relating them to, and embedding them in, the land of the Minoans.

Chapter 1 does the work of conventional introduction to De Excidio by surveying everything we know about the text, from date, authorship, and provenance to manuscript witnesses, sources, and reception history, including a critical discussion that clarifies the relationship between De Excidio and its main source, Flavius Josephus’ Jewish War (written in Greek around 75 CE). Chapter 1 also lays out a framework for the rest of the study by explaining Roman exemplarity as a rhetorical discourse especially familiar within scripted character speeches by historians in the Greco-Roman world.

Provides an analysis of historical Jesus studies and the key interpretative issues scholars seek to address. Surveying scholarship from the eighteenth century on, Fowl disentangles the guiding assumptions of historical Jesus research in its quest for a dispassionate assessment of historical ‘facts’ and interpretative frameworks. As case studies, Fowl compares the major accounts of Jesus offered by John Dominic Crossan, N. T. Wright and Luke Timothy Johnson.

While noting John’s several differences from the synoptics, Christopher Skinner shows how John is particularly interested in narrating the life of Jesus within the eternal life of God. It is Jesus’ unique relationship with God which shapes John’s distinctive portrayal of Jesus as the one through whom the hidden God is known.

This introduction looks at the establishment of philology as a discipline within the developing university system, especially but not only in the nineteenth century, and explores its relation to the discipline of theology, with its equally long history back to antiquity. It argues that the interface between philology and theology is an especially revelatory point from which to observe how academic disciplines have functioned, with regard to institutions, authority, methodology – and also with regard to their own blindnesses and competitive anxieties about other fields. It discusses the historiography of disciplinary formation, and introduces the central questions which link the following chapters.

This chapter investigates the disciplinary formation of Classical Philology as an especially privileged subject in the nineteenth-century university, and the degree to which it overlapped happily with theology. It looks at how the two fields, both committed to the study of antiquity, shared methodology, ideology and an approach to education. It investigates how particular scholars straddled both fields in a way that subsequent historiography and disciplinary silos have worked to conceal – and how specific books became the site for shared intellectual perspectives. The chapter explores this through the career of Benjamin Jowett, as an exemplary figure who straddles both fields. Finally, it considers how twentieth-century historiography and the self-representation of scholars in theology and philology have enacted an increasingly sharp divide between the two disciplines, and explores its reasons and consequences.

Republican Rome saw a range of laws designed to moderate the acquisition of wealth, and this chapter focuses on two such measures, the Lex Licinia de modo agrorum (367 BCE) and Tiberius Gracchus’ agrarian law of 133 BCE. In our later sources these two historical moments tend to be conflated, and the chapter begins by confronting the ensuing methodological problems. A critical review of the previous scholarship establishes that whereas the pre-Gracchan limit applied to all landholding not just public land, Gracchus, who was interested in reclaiming public land for distribution rather than putting a limit on elite wealth, revived the earlier limit, but applied it only to public land. These findings serve as basis for a discussion of the law carried by the tribune C. Licinius Stolo in 367 BCE, including the identification of an ‘ethos of frugality’ in mid-republican Rome which was meant to prevent individuals from accumulating excessive material resources. The final part of the chapter traces the history of the tension between the pursuit of personal enrichment and the interest of the wider community to keep such pursuits in check – an endeavour rendered increasingly difficult given Rome’s foreign conquests.