This book is both a study of two familiar objects in the Roman Empire and much more. It studies both mirrors and masks for themselves and in their interactions, and, as the subtitle points it, in relation to the social, aesthetic and symbolic significance they hold, as vehicles for encounter, performance and metamorphosis. On such a concrete and visual subject, the reader is immediately captivated by the quality of the book’s production, which features a wealth of illustrations—photographs, diagrams and drawings. They allow the reader to visualise masks and mirrors appearing on mosaics, furniture, reliefs, glass, and other media. In addition to this material, which is incorporated into the text and commented on in detail where appropriate, the book comprises text, notes at the end of the book (which are not very easy to refer to), bibliography, and an index of names and terms.
The variety of the artefacts discussed serves an original project, namely, to explore the links between mirrors and masks—their connections as objects, as images and as metaphors. These three aspects correspond to three functions: as vehicles for encounters (between people and objects), for performance (social, artistic, involving issues of identity) and for visual effects, physical and social metamorphoses. The originality lies in considering them not merely as passive objects, concealing or reflecting people, but as active ones that influence representations. The aim of the study is to examine the complex relationships between these objects and the populations using them; to identify not a coherent visuality but diverse occasions of use for various forms of imperial life; and to see how these objects bear witness to and reveal communication, but also to the non- or miscommunication between various communities within the Empire.
The project is ambitious because there are few material remains, apart from depictions. The ambition is further demonstrated by the scope of the selected corpus, which brings together objects ranging from the Mediterranean to Asia Minor and the Levant, and from Gaul to Africa. Finally, the project is ambitious in terms of its broad perspective, the number of approaches involved (literary theory, anthropology, psychology, theatre studies and sociology), and its constant self-reflection, as Shelley Hales also traces the critical history of the discipline through a process of constantly questioning and challenging our preconceptions.
The introduction sets out the aim, methodology and structure of the study. The first chapter is devoted to Rome; Chapters 2 and 3 examine the roles of masks and mirrors across the Empire, particularly in funerary rites and commemorations. The final two chapters deal with the performance and aesthetics of masks and mirrors: chapter 4 examines the mask in ritual and theatrical performances, whilst chapter 5 explores the notion of ‘reflection’ as a key to understanding and interpreting imperial culture.
Chapter 1, ‘Masks and Mirrors in Rome’, ‘investigates the ways in which mask and mirrors were implicated in the performance of civic and social identity at Rome, and the extent to which the encounter with classical culture influenced the ongoing metamorphosis of Romans’ conception of themselves’ (p. 19). It is based on a lexical study of the terms imago and persona in the works of philosophers and in critical scholarship.—[1] The object depicted—the mask, in this instance—is less important than the relationships it represents, and the transformations it encourages. It raises questions not only of individual identity, but also of collective identity. The example of the two personae—theatrical and civic—on the lid of a funerary chest is particularly suggestive. The exploration of the interplay between theatre and the actions of various emperors (Augustus, Tiberius, Nero) is highly evocative and illustrates the metamorphosis of the mask: rather than concealing, it begins to reveal imperial posturing. Under Nero in particular, a shift took place: whilst theatricality is often viewed negatively (by both imperial authors and modern critics), Hales shows that, in this context—thanks to Seneca, famous political adviser and playwright—theatricality can be viewed positively by the Romans in the face of autocrats, as a way—and perhaps the only way—to compose themselves, to act, to present themselves on stage, and to construct their identities.
The chapter then turns to mirrors, beginning with those used by women. Like masks, they are the subject of representations that are sometimes misleading (they are associated with feminine ‘nature’, luxury and decadence), and like masks, they enable the user to construct their own identity. Indeed, in depictions of women at the mirror, the woman herself becomes an object, a reflected, constructed image, and it is women who are the agents of the image they project. As for men’s mirrors (a section heavily reliant on Shadi Bartsch)[2], they too embody certain stereotypes, albeit the reverse: though usually overlooked, it becomes clear that they do exist and are even a central theme under Nero. As both witnesses to and vehicles of the prevailing ambiguity and hybridity, they are sometimes portrayed as examples of depraved men and at other times serve as instruments of self-knowledge. In any case, they provide not only images but also a framework for them, transcending the limits of clear and mimetic images and thereby establishing a widespread hybridity.
Chapters 2 and 3 show how masks and mirrors serve the purpose of self-representation. Chapter 2, ‘Masks and Encounters with Death’, provides an overview of the different types of masks in relation to death (clay imagines, gold masks, mummy masks, cavalry masks), whilst highlighting a common thread: the circulation of techniques and materials throughout the Empire. It takes as its example a specific type of mask in a particular context—cavalry masks in a funerary setting—which serves to demonstrate the importance of context in understanding the function of the object and to raise several methodological issues. Following a detailed material description of these various examples, which demonstrates Shelley Hales’s expertise in this field, the conclusion highlights the futility of the question of origins and, conversely, the significance of the mask’s power. Transformation takes place not on the mask but through it; it is the object that offers a temporary reconfiguration. In a funerary context in particular, masks are no longer seen as a brutal imposition but create the impression of an immortal warrior, bringing about a metamorphosis.
Chapter 3, ‘Metamorphic Mirrors and the Gender of Empire’, seeks to explore how ‘mirrors might help people turn themselves into image and leave a commemorative trace of themselves’. Hales presents a typology of mirrors across the Empire, organised according to their provenance, the materials from which they were made and their motifs. Hales distinguishes on funerary reliefs, which often depict women at mirrors, two main types: the handle mirror and the case mirror. In reviewing a variety of examples, a summary of the functions of mirrors in various contexts is presented on pp. 109-112, concluding that a reassessment of women’s place in the Mediterranean world is necessary. The ‘Classical refractions’ section is particularly interesting in terms of methodology: by asking how the mirror—an agent of transformation—is itself transformed, Shelley Hales deconstructs yet another tenet of traditional criticism: she argues that it is futile to seek the origin of an iconography, since the imperial reflexive system is complex and thrives on the hybridity of identities—something clearly evident in Lucian, who holds up a distorting mirror to the classical literary and artistic tradition. Finally, the section on male mirrors challenges stereotypical gendered representations, although one wonders whether these are really as pervasive as they seem, and whether there might not be a somewhat artificial construction of problems that are not really problems at all. Hales demonstrates the link between mirrors and imperial society, their importance as signifiers rather than as signifieds. Mirrors play a role in recognition, creating unity amidst hybridity and a common ground for communication.
The fourth chapter, ‘Performing masks’, is approached from an angle that broadens the perspective, in that theatre is seen as one aspect of the much wider metamorphosis brought about by the mask. Mention could have been made of Isabelle David’s recent study[3], which, whilst admittedly outside the imperial context under consideration, offers a comprehensive and nuanced perspective on the issue of mask-wearing on the Roman theatrical stage. A large part of the chapter is devoted to pantomime, a theatrical genre popular during the Empire, through which narratives, images and behaviours were disseminated, and in which the mask plays a major role. Mask is, in fact, a motif in itself within this form of performance, a medium through which local and classical characteristics converge. But mask in pantomime is not merely a means; it is also an agent of change and of transcending boundaries, including those between life and death, intimately linked to metamorphosis (pp. 121-122), by virtue of its three main roles (‘theatrical performance, the representation of deities, and face covering for devotees in ritual’).
Following a brief overview of masks in various performance contexts (the topic of the phersu could have been explored in greater depth, p. 124, not only for the discussion on the etymology of persona, but also for the links between Roman and Etruscans, and so for primitive forms of performance), the discussion turns to theatrical masks in the Roman Empire before focusing on pantomime, which is closely linked to metamorphosis. On this occasion, reference could have been made to the texts compiled by Christine Mauduit[4] for the links of Jullius Pollux’s compilation of masks and their appearance under the Roman Empire. The chapter broadens its scope by discussing masks in various parts of the Empire and on various media, and by considering the mask both as an object and as a motif. This is how ‘mask bottles’ and ‘metamorphic glass’ are explored, with fine passages (esp. p. 153). The conclusion—‘They provide the frame for and reinforce the theatrical environment in which this movement between reality and representation might take place’ (p. 154)—has indeed been demonstrated.
The fifth and final chapter, ‘The Heterotopic Mirror’ explores the concept of ‘reflection’ in famous myths (e.g., Actaeon, Narcissus) and in the works of classical and post-classical authors, which enables a discussion of the concept of mimesis in post-classical art, a concept defined both by its mimetic capabilities and its scepticism toward representation. The originality of the argument is further demonstrated in the section ‘Reflection and Space’, which examines emblematic sites of the imperial art of living, such as bathhouses and elite homes, whose significance lies in sharing ‘the reflective and dazzling properties of water’. The analysis continues with the example of the magnificent mosaic depicting Venus with a mirror from Cuicul (Djemila, Tunisia), which serves to expand upon the general reflections on the role of the mirror: a role of breaking down barriers, or even blurring boundaries, of disorientation and disruption. The concluding reflections in the epilogue link these analyses to modern colonial experiences (‘We cannot help but want to see the mosaic image of Venus’s reflection as a true window into the Roman African experience rather than a deflection of it’, p. 191), in particular that of France in Africa, as viewed by highly critical writers such as Albert Camus.
I have just a few minor reservations: it seemed to me that the text was at times overburdened with unnecessary jargon, and that it would have benefited from being more firmly grounded in the literature, by quoting the texts themselves in addition to the references.
I appreciated not only the originality and scope of the project, but also the robust research methodology and the didactic nature of the discussion in each chapter, which features introductions setting out the issues addressed, the approach to be taken, detailed discussions accompanied by in-depth examples, and summarising conclusions. The strength of this book lies in its consistent consideration of the threefold role of these two objects (‘mediating encounters, enabling performance and effecting metamorphosis’, p. 191) and in its exploration of their interrelationships, whilst bearing in mind the importance of the gaze and visuality, their potential for encounter and interaction, and the reflexive and metamorphic power of each. This is a stimulating study that will fascinate specialists in theatre, material culture, aesthetics and cultural history, both for the objects under consideration and for the methodological and disciplinary historical perspectives it offers.
Notes
[1] It would have been relevant to draw on Guillaume Navaud, Persona : le théâtre comme métaphore théorique de Socrate à Shakespeare, Genève, Droz, 2011.
[2] The Mirror of the Self: Sexuality, Self-knowledge, and the Gaze in the Early Roman Empire, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 2006.
[3] Isabelle David, La fabrique du personnage dans la comédie de Plaute : étude sur le masque et la gestuelle, Clermont-Ferrand, Presses universitaires Blaise-Pascal, 2025.
[4] Christine Mauduit (Praef.), L’Onomasticon de Pollux : aspects culturels, rhétoriques et lexicographiques, Paris, De Boccard, 2013.