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Reviewed by:
  • What Did the Romans Know? An Inquiry into Science and Worldmaking by Daryn Lehoux
  • John M. Oksanish
Daryn Lehoux. What Did the Romans Know? An Inquiry into Science and Worldmaking. Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 2012. xii + 275 pp. 10 black-and-white figs., 2 tables. Cloth, $45.

“Have we ever been modern?” Thus author Daryn Lehoux expresses one of the fundamental questions underlying the book under review, which seeks to present a historicizing account of the various lenses through which elite Romans in the late Republic and early Empire understood and, importantly, expressed their understanding of our world. I say “our” world because, as Lehoux makes clear from the beginning of this fascinating, if sometimes challenging, monograph, continuity with our scientific forebears is as fundamental a key to accessing their ambitions, limits, and scope, as are our divergences from them. In this sense, What Did the Romans Know? provides a kind of study in the reception of Roman sciences, whose plurality, interdependence, and context-specific viability are emphasized throughout. For although (1) physical realities have per se not [End Page 343] changed since antiquity, and (2) how we regard and describe them has, Lehoux insinuates that our own laws of nature remain limited by specific ontological and rhetorical constraints—“blind spots”—that render our modern science in some ways comparable with the sciences that operated in antiquity. By first emphasizing various contexts (epistemological, ontological, etc.) and showing readers how the ancient sciences operated within them, Lehoux effectively shows us that ancient sciences did indeed work, even astrology. However, Lehoux ultimately reveals himself as a scientific realist: the contextual viability of the ancient sciences notwithstanding, he does not believe in a Lucretian “swerve” but in atoms, electrons, and other phenomena that he has never seen directly. That he waits until the ninth chapter (200) for this admission to materialize fully is surely purposeful, but it can sometimes make for disorienting reading. Equally disorienting is the book’s tendency to present ancient scientific terms with little or no explanation (e.g., equant, 68; synodic anomaly, 69), while terms whose specific valences will be well-known to many readers of this journal (e.g., religio, 26; pietas, 27) are glossed, sometimes simplistically. Despite this and a few other caveats, however, Lehoux has broadly succeeded at a very difficult task, i.e., presenting ancient science in a manner that is accessible and interesting to Classicists of various stripes, while simultaneously delivering classical texts to historians of science through an essentially new historicist lens.

The first three chapters provide examples from and discussions of selected texts that show the Romans making links between nature and law in science, religion (especially divination), and in legal theories. We quickly learn that Lehoux’s is not a book about Romans who merely applied Greek theories in the interest of technology or about the ways in which slave-power made an ancient industrial revolution unnecessary at Rome (the so-called blocage question, discussed by Serafina Cuomo in Technology and Culture in Greek and Roman Antiquity [Cambridge, 2007]). Rather, this is a book about science as a reflection of, and participant in, the creation of Roman ideology and society. Any good discussion of Roman-ness at the end of the Republic inevitably involves a good deal of Cicero, who conveniently, and thus perhaps problematically, provides ample discussion of the kinds of topics in which Lehoux is interested, especially divination. Cicero’s apparently contradictory positions on the practice (Leg. 2.32 and Div. 2.74) are noted, as is the movement in the past thirty years away from the “naive” reading of De Divinatione as a “vigorous rationalistic protest” against a national superstition. Divination, for Lehoux’s Cicero, is neither an intellectual offense nor a politically expedient fiction; rather, it is a thoroughly Roman way of both seeing the world and doing business. Some of what is found here will not be new to classicists, and the chapter overall seems less interested in breaking new ground than in establishing, in deliberate fashion, the book’s foundational interest in seeing nature, law, and religion as legitimately connected. Divination and other phenomena reflect a Roman interest in a kind...

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