The phenomenon of universal empires has moved to the centre of historical enquiry. This is a development that bodes well for ancient historians. Over the last generation, a new world history has evolved, but often tending to bypass the mainstream of Classics. However, here is a key theme that promises students of the Greeks and Romans significant purchase on the fast-developing discourse. From Bronze Age Mesopotamia to Qing Dynasty China, the claim to rule the world and tower high above other states and monarchs can be found ricocheting back and forth across Eurasia (P. F. Bang and D. Kołodziejczyk (eds), Universal Empire. A Comparative Approach to Imperial Culture and Representation (2012)). Geographically, the horizon of the present collection of essays is more circumscribed, seeking its topics from a universe intellectually delineated by the vision of Herodotus, the conquests of Alexander and the empire of the Roman Caesars. Nonetheless, if the volume prefers to remain within the confines of a world familiar to the discipline of traditional ancient history, it still suffices to take the reader on an adventurous tour of ancient western Eurasia, from Greek kings in India to provincial Egypt, Sasanian Persians and Byzantine chronography.

In doing so, the volume has set out to examine a particular subtheme picked from the grammar of Eurasian imperial culture: the notion of ‘universal empire’ characterised by a succession of pre-eminent powers, with the seat of world monarchy passed on between conquerors in a process of translatio. A rich trove of texts, among which the Old Testament book of Daniel takes pride of place, survives to track this theme in all its meandering and fascinating detail. It is, in short, a topic that speaks well to the antiquarian inclinations of our profession. Among practitioners of world history, a debate is presently playing out about whether to favour comparison or to pursue the study of connections: see e.g. J.-P. Ghobrial (ed.), Global History and Microhistory (Past & Present 242, Supplement 14, 2019). The former approach enables the identification of broad patterns, whereas the latter valorises the close archival study of specific individuals, locations and routes. While the editors of the present volume do not attempt to address this debate, it is clear that in the struggle between macro- and microhistory, this volume sides emphatically with the latter. The weakness that results is an almost complete lack of synthesis and wider historical context. Instead of an overarching story, the fragment rules. That might, from one side of the debate, be seen as a deficit; from the other, it becomes a defining virtue and a cause of celebration, and no more so than for a conception of history that finds its ideal in the practice of philology.

This is where the strength of the current collection of essays is located. The editors offer very little in terms of introduction and framing, but almost immediately launch the reader into the thirteen case-studies that make up this collection. These are generally built around the exegesis of a limited number of ancient texts that are mined for arcane information and, occasionally, fragments of texts otherwise lost. It is in this activity, the learned and meandering pursuit of fascinating stories, that the essays shine. Many interesting themes are excavated from the ancient textual corpus: the Iranian invention of an alternative sequence of translatio, which sees empire pass via the Medians to the Achaemenids in denial of the claims of Babylon; Lydia as ‘the empire that never was’; the boasts of Greco-Bactrian kings to rival or surpass Alexander; the overlooked position of Macedon in ancient ideas of imperial transfer; the unexpected adoption of the title of king of kings by Mithridates VI of Pontus; the aspiration to halt the succession of empires in Augustan Rome and the realisation of its impossibility during the Antonine era; the conflicted Persian image of Alexander the Great; an Egyptian claim to have generated the first universal conquests long before Persia, in order to assert the special status of the Nile country within later empires, and the integration of these ideas again into Christian time; and finally a set of posthumous reflections by Gianfranco Gaggero on the Book of Daniel.

If the list leaves an impression of random selection, it is not entirely unjustified. Systematic coverage has had to yield to the personal preferences and interests of the participants in the meeting in Genoa that generated this book. A cluster of four chapters is centred on the Byzantine chronography of John Malalas. Overlap is almost inevitable, but each paper makes interesting observations of its own. The strongest piece, both in this Malalan bundle and also in the collection more generally, is that of Umberto Roberto (‘Translatio studii et imperii’, 217–61). His discussion of Egyptian attempts to insert themselves in the sequence of empires, by way of their mythical past, embarks on a fascinating journey from Diodorus Siculus through Julius Africanus, John Malalas and Hermes Trismegistos, before ending with Petrus Patricius.

From this chapter also emerge two of the more generalisable observations from the volume. The notion of a sequence of empires served as a rhetorical trope allowing rival monarchies and groups to assert their claims to status. But by recognising the passing of power, the trope could also function as a vehicle for claims questioning established power-holders, e.g. by warning against arrogant and tyrannical behaviour. Absolutist rulers too convinced of their own superiority could thereby be reminded to stay within the bounds of moderation. Otherwise, the moral corruption flowing from self-aggrandisement would see their rule collapse and pass on to more worthy incumbents. The writing would, as we have learned, soon be on the wall. It is difficult here not to be reminded of the Chinese theory of the mandate of heaven, that saw the position of the ruler as cosmically sanctified, but also at the same time subject to ‘review’. A morally corrupt ruler might lose the mandate and see it relocate to a new dynasty or even a foreign conqueror. In order fully to reap the rewards of our antiquarian labours, or to capitalise on our rendezvous with the fragment, ancient historians must also dare to venture into comparative synthesis, even on a global scale.