The book ends with a brief Postscript on not reading letters. It examines the correspondence between Keats’s friend and carer Joseph Severn and Keats’s friends back in London as the poet is dying in Rome in the winter of 1820–1. The correspondence records how, having effectively stopped writing poetry more than a year earlier, Keats is now no longer able to read, let alone write, even letters. The chapter argues that this epistolary stoppage has itself fed into the cultural reception of the life and work of a poet who has become admired, respected, and loved for his correspondence as much as for his poems.

This chapter argues that the Alexander Romance mounts a subversive critique of rhetorical education in the Roman world. Though long dismissed as ahistorical fantasy, the novel draws extensively on the declamatory school tradition, only to parody its constraints and elevate Alexander as a master rhetorician beyond the reach of paideia. Through close readings of episodes involving Aristotle, the Attic orators, Darius, and the Theban flautist Ismenias, the chapter shows how the Romance reframes Alexander not as a pupil of canonical figures but as their superior and eventual replacement. By satirizing epistolary fiction, impersonation exercises, and the “travel advisories” suasoriae from chapter 4, the novel rewrites Classical history to suit Alexander’s anti-sophistic persona. His distinctive voice – described as “divinely inspired” – becomes the true marker of kingship and character, in contrast to the pedantry of rhetorical mimesis. Ultimately, the Romance envisions an alternative model of fiction mastery and learning that dethrones classical exempla and reconfigures the boundaries of elite education.

Although emperor for over thirty years (306-337), Constantine always shared imperial rule with colleagues, first fellow Tetrarchs, then his sons. During his reign he traveled thousands of miles along the northern and eastern frontiers. But he still relied on senators and municipal notables as administrators. Cities flourished, and traditional cults were still common. Inscriptions provide the most revealing evidence about provinces, cities (including Rome), senators, local notables, and cults.

This chapter emphasizes the growth and consolidation of democratic regimes across the ancient Greek world beginning in the fourth century BCE. The conquests of Alexander the Great and the policies of his successors did not spell the death of ancient Greek democracies but instead may have actually increased their number. Highly participatory institutions, including assemblies, magistracies, and law courts, can be found across the Mediterranean and beyond. Democracies shared best practices in this period on how to fend off tyranny, oligarchy, excessive demagoguery, and other threats to the democratic constitution. Festivals, monumental art, religious cult, and coinage contributed to a specifically democratic culture. At the same time, democracies settled on a general paradigm in which citizen women, while enjoying certain civic privileges, were excluded from political decision-making; democratic stability also depended on the presence of an enslaved class.

Bowen’s letters, novels, and short stories all attest to her love of Italy, a country that she visited often and one where she experienced excitement, love, grief, sorrow, and occasionally boredom. The country provided the location for significant events in her life: the breaking off of an engagement; the shared experiences of a country providing solace when she and her lover, Charles Ritchie, were apart; facing both the potential and actual loss of her family home, Bowen’s Court; or mourning the deaths of Humphry House, her former lover, and her husband, Alan Cameron. Like many of her characters in her novels and short stories, Bowen’s response to, and relationship with, Italy is multi-layered and nuanced, the result of her experiences, both physical and emotional, over many years. This chapter draws on those experiences in Italy, placing Bowen’s writing – in letters, essays, selected early short stories, novels, and her ‘travelogue’, A Time in Rome – within their biographical, bibliographical, and geographical contexts.

The earth’s shadow darkens the initial Heavens of Dante’s ascent, the shadow waning the nearer a Heaven is to that of the Sun.The inhabitants of the last earth-shadowed Heaven turn to that Heaven hoping to be free from the imperfections of terrestrial existence.But these Heavens’ vestigial earthiness exerts an effect.Each focuses on a particular imperfection: the fragility of moral vows; the defect of human law as a vehicle of justice; and the reign of “mad love.”These produce an urge to transcend this region.

But Dante has readers assess the losses as well as the gains that accrue when we leave our world behind.This assessment puts reason on trial, its inadequacies seeming to sanction reason’s subordination to faith as provided in the vision that beckons above.But these Heavens ask not only whether that’s possible but desirable.Reason’s inadequacies are shown to be inseparable from moral responsibility, from more just politics, and from the desires that generate the Comedy.Asking whether the transcendence of terrestrial existence makes for a happier life, Dante gives readers cause to consider the possibility that these earth-shadowed Heavens are more than merely a necessary step on the way to perfection.

In the early seventeenth century, female singers were novelties, objects of obsession to be admired, collected, and displayed. Heard only seldom in opera (until the establishment of Venetian public opera) and forbidden from singing in church, they performed primarily in private and semiprivate settings, inspiring their male admirers to write poems and discourses that variously praised and condemned their alluring voices and bodies. A comparison of Barbara Strozzi’s performances with the Venetian Accademia degli Unisoni with those of her antecedents and contemporaries (such as Adriana Basile or Leonora Baroni) in Papal Rome reveals fundamental differences in attitudes towards virtuose: the political structure in Venice that limited public roles for noblewomen created an environment discouraged the development of conversazioni and veglie – many of which were sponsored by female patrons – that the Roman women enjoyed. Giulio Strozzi’s founding of the Accademia degli Unisoni may well have been inspired by his experiences hearing female singers during his time in Rome.

Chapter 4 continues this examination of narrative truth, focusing on the new post-Tridentine pressure to accurately portray relics in depictions of sacred history. This chapter explores how two of Borromeo’s most cherished Passion relics, the Column of Flagellation in the Church of Santa Prassede in Rome and the relic of Christ’s burial shroud in Turin, began to appear in narrative art during the 1570s for the first time in the history of Christian art. Both relics were of doubtful authenticity: Borromeo’s Column of the Flagellation was short, rather than the expected long pillar, while the long dimensions of the Shroud of Turin failed to match with descriptions of Christ’s burial cloths in the Bible. Nevertheless, Borromeo and his fellow Catholic scholars attempted to fit these prized relics into sacred history – and artists joined in this endeavor. Artists’ visual skills in the making of the istoria, the dramatic narrative still so central to ambitious art-making, were instrumental in scholarly revisions of biblical events. Artists marshalled practices of figure drawing and composition to explain the possibilities of sacred history, producing istorie of historical value for reformers and antiquarians.

This chapter explores Augustine’s monumental City of God, written in the wake of the 410 sack of Rome, as a response to critics who blamed Christianity for the empire’s decline. Augustine constructs a dual vision of history structured around two metaphorical cities: the City of Man, grounded in pride and temporal ambition, and the City of God, formed by love of God and oriented toward eternal peace. The chapter examines Augustine’s theological reframing of history as linear, purposeful, and governed by divine providence, in contrast to the cyclical models of ancient historians. It analyzes his critique of pagan religion, his nuanced appropriation of Platonism, and his demonology, all of which served to delegitimize traditional Roman cults while affirming Christianity’s supremacy. At the heart of the chapter is Augustine’s doctrine of predestination and his unsettling insistence on humanity’s dependence on divine grace. The City of God emerges as both a critique of Roman imperial pretensions and a charter for a Christian understanding of time, politics, and salvation, whose legacy would profoundly shape medieval and modern thought.

The treatment of Rome and its history in Ennius’ Annales has received significant scholarly attention in recent years. This work has shown well that the epic sets the city at the centre of a widening Roman world, thereby making it a cosmic hub of space and time. Such epic transformations also transform perspectives on the past and the present. What of Rome in the rest of Ennius’ wide-ranging literary output? How does the tri- or quadrilingual former Rudian approach his new unelected home and its socio-cultural practices in genres beyond epic? Taking into consideration the representation of (urban) space, monuments, social practices (especially ritual acts, praise, and elite self-presentation), and intersectional conceptions of Roman identity, this chapter examines the ways in which Ennius’ writings construct and reflect Rome qua city and set of cultural values and perspectives. The Scipio, Ambracia, and Sabinae anchor the chapter, but the contribution also uncovers key themes in less expected places, with some comment on the epigrams, Hedyphagetica, and philosophical works.

Chapter 2 considers the state’s legal power in acquiring land and materials for construction and maintenance of public amenities, the management of the built environment in Rome and the activities of its inhabitants, the nature of urban life, and the provision and protection of amenities, such as corn, the water supply, baths, and games. The emperor assumed responsibility for the welfare of his people; this was his duty but was also politically important. The emperor provided for security and control in the city, sponsoring firemen (vigiles), urban cohorts, and praetorian guard under the command of officials with defined legal powers: prefects of the city, of the praetorians, and of the vigiles. Outside Rome: the management and status of communities in Italy, the organization of land and people, facilities including roads and bridges, important institutions in society, such as collegia and alimenta, and the legal jurisdiction of the praetorian prefect within Italy.

This chapter addresses the question of Casulana’s development as a composer. Through historical network analysis, it presents evidence suggesting that Casulana was connected to Nicola Vicentino for a significant part of her life, and that it was through him she established her first networks. Their paths led them both to Vicenza, to Siena during the siege of 1554–55, as well as to Rome, Venice, Milan, and more indirectly to Munich and Paris. Moreover, their networks intersected on several occasions. These data provide substantial evidence to argue that Casulana and Vicentino were somehow personally connected. Vicentino, the leading theorist of chromaticism in the mid-sixteenth century, had many students, including several women, and he was clearly not an opponent of female instruction. His implicit musical philogyny lends significant plausibility to the hypothesis that he may have had Casulana as a student.

Volume I offers a broad perspective on urban culture in the ancient European world. It begins with chronological overviews which paint in broad brushstrokes a picture that serves as a frame for the thematic chapters in the rest of the volume. Positioning ancient Europe within its wider context, it touches on Asia and Africa as regions that informed and were later influenced by urban development in Europe, with particular emphasis on the Mediterranean basin. Topics range from formal characteristics (including public space), water provision, waste disposal, urban maintenance, spaces for the dead, and border spaces; to ways of thinking about, visualising, and remembering cities in antiquity; to conflict within and between cities, economics, mobility and globalisation, intersectional urban experiences, slavery, political participation, and religion.

Volume I offers a broad perspective on urban culture in the ancient European world. It begins with chronological overviews which paint in broad brushstrokes a picture that serves as a frame for the thematic chapters in the rest of the volume. Positioning ancient Europe within its wider context, it touches on Asia and Africa as regions that informed and were later influenced by urban development in Europe, with particular emphasis on the Mediterranean basin. Topics range from formal characteristics (including public space), water provision, waste disposal, urban maintenance, spaces for the dead, and border spaces; to ways of thinking about, visualising, and remembering cities in antiquity; to conflict within and between cities, economics, mobility and globalisation, intersectional urban experiences, slavery, political participation, and religion.

This chapter focuses on Palmyra’s choices in weaving a wider network of social ties to both the Mediterranean and eastern world in order to enjoy the recognizable success that lasted several centuries. It gleans evidence of the presence of Palmyrenes in the Mediterranean, Egypt, the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean, before discussing the observable strategies in terms of strengthening commercial ties or choices in items of trade based on their high commercial value and lightness in terms of transport, such as silk or pearls.

Chapters 5 and 6 focus on clusters of re-narrated episodes in Cyril’s response to Julian. Chapter 5 is organized by one of Julian’s own categories: the “gifts of the gods” which, he had argued, were given in surpassing quality and quantity to the Hellenic people. This chapter groups Julian’s various iterations of gifts and Cyril’s sprawling responses in three, interrelated categories: exemplary characters, intellectual superiority, and military and political domination. In Cyril’s responses, Minos was no legendary hero but rather imitated the fallen angels’ lust for domination; the Attic language itself (not to mention the convention of writing) derived from proto-Christian sources; and the Jewish people’s turbulent history and the present ascendance of Roman superiority equally reflect the Christian God’s management of the cosmos.