In this article, Cribiore investigates “the influence of an orphan state on advanced education” (258) by examining the writings of Libanius, a Greek teacher of rhetoric in fourth-century Antioch. She evaluates the earlier conclusion of Krause that fatherless boys encountered obstacles that often prevented them from being students of Libanius. She convincingly demonstrates that the picture conveyed through Libanius’ writing is more complex than Krause indicated.
Libanius himself was an orphan. In his case the loss of his father, although tragic, had many “unforeseen positive consequences” (257). For example, his mother assumed guardianship of her children, choosing to be “everything” (τὰ πάντα) for them and encouraging them to pursue academic studies. Not all widows had as much power as Libanius’ mother had. For example, widows could not be designated as tutor (guardian) for their children if they decided to remarry. Usually, other male relatives assumed responsibility for the upbringing of orphans. Some of Libanius’ letters discuss boys whose relatives in fact made pursuing studies quite easy – particularly if the students were scions of wealthy families. One boy, for example, had two excellent letters of recommendation solicited by his male relatives. Mothers usually did not write to Libanius themselves – the world of rhetoric was, after all, almost exclusively male – but their influence helped their sons in other ways.
Libanius’ letters also provide evidence that some orphans faced significant financial difficulties. Cribiore rightly cautions that these obstacles should not always be read as the result of being fatherless. For example, Libanius wrote to one family pleading that his student be given enough money to continue his studies. The family refused – but they still wanted to provide an education to the boy, just not in Antioch. In addition, the relatives were angry with the boy because he had run away from them. Their decision to cut off funding, although unfortunate, thus had nothing to do with the boy’s loss of his father. On the other hand, students with neither mother nor father often had genuine difficulties with their education that stemmed from their condition as orphans. In these cases, Libanius often solicited external support – for example, from the governor or another prominent politician – to ensure that the boy could continue his studies. Libanius often advocated for boys like these because of his affection for his students. At the same time, he supported promising students in particular because their success increased his own reputation.
Cribiore acknowledges that these factors distort her sources; after all, Libanius is most likely to write about exceptional students and so the record is biased against average pupils. Accounting for these factors, Cribiore estimates the average attendance of Libanius’ students at “two or three years” (268). This was true for all types of students, including orphans, since the reasons for ending rhetorical training were diverse – from poor health to a desire to enter the job market or pursue training for another profession. Some students were even compelled to enter civic service by the city council.
Cribiore draws on this large, diverse body of evidence to make several conclusions about the education of orphans in fourth-century Antioch. First, she acknowledges that losing a father does not paralyze a boy’s education – especially if Libanius becomes his personal advocate. Indeed, orphans could even aspire to a “future at the highest echelons of society” (272) if they had the right support. In the end, the most important factor for education was not the presence of a father. Instead, what “helped a young man go to and stay in school were family support, ability to pay for costly studies, lack of urgent need to earn a living, and personal motivation and talent” (271). Cribiore sees many of these factors as being indicative, fundamentally, of belonging to “elite social strata” (272). In sum, what matters most is not whether a boy is an orphan but rather whether a student comes from a background of privilege.